The Old Man

By Douglas Roff

About the Book

 

Amos Bruckford is the retired President and CEO of a large, multinational biotech firm headquartered in Seattle, Washington. He had settled into a life that no longer included work or most of his friends from work; his firm had been bought, then moved to another city. As he took stock of his life, his mind wandered to his ex-wife who divorced him years ago, and his son, estranged and no longer in contact. He was at a point in his life where he was reassessing his past and what little was left of his future; he was sixty-eight and not getting any younger. 

There was something going on inside his head, something he hadn't reckoned with either before he retired or afterward. But now that he was wealthy and alone, he had time to reconsider just what had gone so terribly wrong in his personal life that left him without family and friends in the twilight of his journey. 

He thought maybe a shock to his existence was what was in order, something to distract him from the everyday humdrum of retired life. He had no hobbies, rarely played golf any longer, and his daily routine was, well, utterly routine. Shake it up he thought, but how? It occurred to him the solution was a cruise, a cruise to Hawaii, or maybe in the Caribbean to get out there, mingle with the

ladies and find inspiration in something new. He would find meaning, even if it was just company for an evening then a return to solitude.

He didn't mind solitude. It was quiet.

As he was ruminating on his target destination, as the summer was drawing to a close, he went for his daily walk along the bay promenade in the downtown area, and noticed, perhaps not for the first time, a young girl, maybe in her mid-teens, sitting on a park bench, her hat out beside her to catch coins from the passersby, her "clients" who passed by every morning going from home or the bus stop to their place of work. The location was excellent and had no other panhandlers as competition.

Amos would occasionally drip some loose pocket change in her hat, say hello, then move on. She was a street kid, that was clear, but as he looked more closely at her, and past her level of personal hygiene, he noticed for the first time just how young she was. He wondered what a young lady, a child, was doing on the streets when she should be in school. He passed by for days, then decided to investigate.

He approached her, sat down and said hello. He had no idea why.

His reception was chilly.

He persevered until one day, arriving late for his morning coffee with her, he found her upset and panicky about her friend; her

friend had had an incident and was in trouble. Now, the girl needed his help; her friend needed his help. Within hours, he had met the two teens who would change his life forever; Alice who seemed to hate and distrust everyone, Amos included, and Mari who was just the opposite.

He took the girls in and their story with him began. It was not always happy; it did not come easily or without conflict. On this journey, learning the meaning of unconditional love eluded them all until one day it didn't.

The Old Man is a story of love, patience and one man's search to find redemption. 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Douglas Roff
• Release date: May 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223216117

Douglas Roff

Douglas Roff is a retired corporate executive. He has lived around the world working in various capacities for government and industry.  Doug has written twenty-nine novels to date, mostly in the mystery, paranormal and fantasy genres, but not exclusively.  He currently resides in Latin America, speaks Spanish, and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada.  

Book preview

About the Book

Amos Bruckford is the retired President and CEO of a large, multinational biotech firm headquartered in Seattle, Washington. He had settled into a life that no longer included work or most of his friends from work; his firm had been bought, then moved to another city. As he took stock of his life, his mind wandered to his ex-wife who divorced him years ago, and his son, estranged and no longer in contact. He was at a point in his life where he was reassessing his past and what little was left of his future; he was sixty-eight and not getting any younger.

There was something going on inside his head, something he hadn’t reckoned with either before he retired or afterward. But now that he was wealthy and alone, he had time to reconsider just what had gone so terribly wrong in his personal life that left him without family and friends in the twilight of his journey.

He thought maybe a shock to his existence was what was in order, something to distract him from the everyday humdrum of retired life. He had no hobbies, rarely played golf any longer, and his daily routine was, well, utterly routine. Shake it up he thought, but how? It occurred to him the solution was a cruise, a cruise to Hawaii, or maybe in the Caribbean to get out there, mingle with the ladies and find inspiration in something new. He would find meaning, even if it was just company for an evening then a return to solitude.

He didn’t mind solitude. It was quiet.

As he was ruminating on his target destination, as the summer was drawing to a close, he went for his daily walk along the bay promenade in the downtown area, and noticed, perhaps not for the first time, a young girl, maybe in her mid-teens, sitting on a park bench, her hat out beside her to catch coins from the passersby, her clients who passed by every morning going from home or the bus stop to their place of work. The location was excellent and had no other panhandlers as competition.

Amos would occasionally drip some loose pocket change in her hat, say hello, then move on. She was a street kid, that was clear, but as he looked more closely at her, and past her level of personal hygiene, he noticed for the first time just how young she was. He wondered what a young lady, a child, was doing on the streets when she should be in school. He passed by for days, then decided to investigate.

He approached her, sat down and said hello. He had no idea why.

His reception was chilly.

He persevered until one day, arriving late for his morning coffee with her, he found her upset and panicky about her friend; her friend had had an incident and was in trouble. Now, the girl needed his help; her friend needed his help. Within hours, he had met the two teens who would change his life forever; Alice who seemed to hate and distrust everyone, Amos included, and Mari who was just the opposite.

He took the girls in and their story with him began. It was not always happy; it did not come easily or without conflict. On this journey, learning the meaning of unconditional love eluded them all until one day it didn’t.

The Old Man is a story of love, patience and one man’s search to find redemption.

Dedication

For my family, Steve, Jake and Luci.

Part One

A Rough Start

Chapter 1

The old man was retired and had been for only a few years. He had done well in his lifetime; he was a good provider for his extended family, now scattered to the four winds. In truth, however, there had only ever been two others in his life, his wife Helen and his only child, a son, Will. They had grown apart many years ago while he was at the apogee of success in his career, earning wads of cash and moving up the corporate ladder until finally, he bought the company he worked for. His home was bigger, his bank account full, and his fame in the business community spreading.

He was a can do kind of guy willing to do whatever was necessary to get the job done.

And he did.

On Christmas, on birthdays, at graduations, at ball games and during hospitalizations, he was working. He was somewhere, just not with his wife and son during their moments of triumph or tragedy, or through good news or bad. He was closing deals, lots of deals, just not any near home and hearth in the suburbs of Detroit.

If he was anywhere, he was at head office in Seattle

For his wife, there were always more bobbles, for his son more things to make up for his frequent absences.

He was surprised when, after nearly thirty years of marriage, his wife moved out of their Michigan estate and bought a huge condo in Boca Raton. She filed for divorce in state court before leaving for Florida, and asked only for a fair settlement from him, given all the years. He was shocked at the time, though in retrospect, years later, he would admit that the only observer of his marriage who wondered how it lasted at all, was him. He settled, settled generously, and asked if they could still be friends.

We were never friends, Amos. We were lovers briefly, and roommates on occasion over the many years. If I said yes, what would we talk about, even if I wanted to have any kind of conversation with you? Sports? Politics?

Family?

Whose?

That was the last conversation that Amos and Melissa Bruckford had before she left for Boca, and he left for Seattle. Their friends predicted that the pair would never connect again; their first experiment had been such a disaster.

That was fifteen years ago.

His son, Will, had been a good athlete and student, a child to be proud of. Amos never passed up a chance to sing his praises, but the accolades always seemed to reflect on him, not his son. Two years after graduation from college, his grandparents' trust fund now paying out, he kissed his mother goodbye and left his father a simple note.

I’m joining up. Goodbye.

If his divorce blindsided Amos, he was confounded by the terse farewell he received from his ungrateful son.

Years later, he realized that the note he received from his son was their divorce, too. If he had been inattentive to his wife, he had been wholly absent from his son, his son’s life, and his son’s dreams.

I was a sperm donor, that’s all. I might as easily have claimed any kid on the street as my son for all the parenting I ever did. He once told me he ‘lettered’ in two sports in high school; I had no idea which sports he played.

Amos Bruckford moved to the city that was his real home. His company, Advanced Biological Dynamics, Inc., had made a name for itself in the biosciences during the boom in the ’80s and ’90s in Seattle, and if he had a home, a real home, it was there. He had the cash to buy a home on Mercer Island or one of the other toney sections nearby to downtown Seattle, but he chose a condo in a high rise in the city center. He liked the noise, the hustle and bustle of urban living, and the sense of vitality that downtown Seattle offered. He had lived alone on the road all those many years, meticulous in his fidelity to his wife, and genuinely comfortable with the self-imposed single life of a chaste executive faithful as much to an ideal of marriage as to a real woman.

Helen was more practical in her needs, and whether filled by male or female acquaintances, she made no effort to hide her indiscretions or apologize for them. If Amos was even aware, she couldn’t tell.

In fact, he wasn’t, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. It might have given him permission to stray too, but since even he had to admit to the disaster that was his home life eventually, neither forgiveness nor permission seemed relevant. The situation was of his own making, and if Amos could do only one thing well, it was to own his decisions.

When the family formally divorced him, he owned that, then took fifteen more years to try, through introspection, to understand what he had done so God-awful wrong. As the years went by, as the company he carefully managed continued on, things changed. Five years after retirement, after he sold the company to its management, the company merged with another larger concern and corporate headquarters was moved, along with whatever few business friends he had left, to LA. Most old chums retired too but moved to sunny Florida, Arizona, or Mexico.

Ten years out, his company was gone, his friends had all moved away, and he was alone.

Fifteen years out of retirement, having finally come to terms with his personal and professional deficiencies, he decided that a change of scenery was in order. He thought that meant a nice cruise to Hawaii or perhaps a visit to the Continent on the other side of the pond for an extended vacation. He was deep into planning his getaway when the single event that would shape the remaining years of his dwindling life expectancy happened entirely by accident.

He was seventy years old, happy to be alive, and living alone.

She was sitting on a park bench down in a harbor park, hustling for money. She was perpetually bundled up, even in summer, and had an attitude not conducive to pedestrian largesse. He watched her as he took his daily walk along the bay shore promenade, sometimes giving her spare change, sometimes just seated nearby and wondering why a teen, a child of no more than fifteen years, would be in a park every day begging for money. He began to obsess over what her back story could be that would drive a child, a young girl away from home and onto the streets with its dangers, drugs, and temptations.

Later, Amos would say that those days of watching the girl was the beginning of him growing a conscience, an awareness of others around him who simply had never attracted his attention before. Like so many before him, it had always been easier for Amos to look away from street kids, shutting them out of our collective consciousness, failing to see them as people worthy of love, help or salvation. Of course, at the time, he was utterly oblivious to his own emotions, they had been buried so deep for so many years, that he would hardly have been able to recognize or understand them even if he knew they existed. He felt little; that would change.

Amos would later recount that he had always had an awareness of and cared about the plight of humanity. Caring about individuals, actual living breathing humans, was a different story. Individuals were messy and unappealing; humanity, on the other hand, was noble.

I don’t know why I finally saw another human in need that particular day; I had never really been very interested in any other life beyond my own. But it was on that day, in early fall, that I saw her at her park bench, a hat out beside her to collect coins and bills, that I decided to approach and talk to her. She was shivering, and her clothing was far from warm. I don’t know what I thought, but maybe for once I wasn’t thinking, I was just reacting. So, I walked up to her and sat beside her.

It did not go well.

What do you want, old man? Make a donation and move on, or just move on. I don’t need company, and I don’t need some perv scaring away my regulars.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just noticed you were shivering, and the weather is turning. You must not be from around here.

It’s none of your fucking business where I’m from or how I’m dressed. Like I said, move on old fella. You’re bad for business.

Amos wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, neither was he expecting such outright hostility. He dropped a twenty in her hat, then quickly stood up and walked away. But instead of going home, he walked a few blocks to a large sporting goods store, picked out a warm down jacket and some other warm items, then went back to the park, just as the girl was leaving.

You again. I’m not interested, old man. I’m not going anywhere with you, so get away from me. If you keep this up, I’ll call the cops.

Fair enough. But I have something for you.

He handed the girl a big shopping bag, then turned on his heels and walked home. The next day, he went back to the park in the morning as the drizzle was coming down, and the city was already under a million umbrellas. The girl was back at the bench, hooded against the wind and wet, wearing her new jacket.

He approached slowly, making sure the girl saw him as he came closer.

Look, old man, I appreciate the gesture. The jacket and socks are nice, but I’m trying to get across to you that I’m OK, and you’re not my father. So, while this stuff was nice, I’m not going to sit around chatting and wait for you to tell me what you have in mind. I get men all day long stopping by to see if I’ll blow them in the alley for a quick twenty. I’m not going to blow you either. So, thanks, but we don’t have anything to talk about, and you’re bad for business. People see you here with me and keep on walking. Get it? You’re bad for business.

OK, I get it. But can I ask you what your daily haul is here in the Park? What do the regulars pony up?

Fifty, if I’m lucky. Twenty if the weather is bad. Zero if the weather is really bad.

If I give you fifty, will you pack up and go home? Go somewhere warm?

Maybe. What’s it to you?

How old are you, child?

I’m not a child. And I’m old enough to recognize a creep when I see one.

I’m not a creep, and I asked you a question. Humor me.

You with social services? Is that your angle? Jesus freak? Want to save my soul? Get lost.

A hundred. Answer the question. Consider me a social scientist.

What’s that?

I study people. I’m a professor.

Bullshit. You’re a pervy old man, and you have an eye for young girls. Your kind is everywhere; I’m not interested, not now, not tomorrow or next week.

Amos opened his wallet and pulled out five twenties.

Your age?

What’s your game?

What difference does it make? As you said, I’m an old man. What harm will it do?

Eighteen, I’m eighteen.

Nice try, but this time, try lying with more conviction or just tell me the truth. You aren’t eighteen.

What are you, a psychic, old man? How the fuck do you know how old I am? Or am not?

I used to be a father once. I know some things. And you aren’t eighteen.

Seventeen.

Keep going.

Look. You’re beginning to piss me off. I told you my age; give me the cash. You said.

I know you’re lying, and I’m sure you have your reasons. But I’m not here to hurt you; I’m just trying to understand you.

There’s nothing for you to understand. I’m here; I’m on the streets, and I’m surviving. I don’t need or want your help. Give me the money then go. I’ve had enough of you for one day.

Amos folded the bills and put them in his pocket. He stood up and began to walk away.

Alright, alright. Fifteen. I’m fifteen; does that make you happy?

It does. Here’s the hundred, and you’ve earned a bonus gift.

Don’t touch me.

"Heaven