The Poker King Returns novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: Hal's Hands

On Sunday morning my father stood up out of his wheelchair in front of the whole Roost.

I had not asked him to do it today.

I had asked him to do it when he was strong enough, and he had looked at me and said, "I won't ever be."

It was eleven o'clock, the first of November, and the bar was full for the Sunday brunch crowd.

Bea had passed the word at dawn.

Forty regulars sat on the stools.

The postman was there, and the woman of eighty with her cushion, and all four of the dealers.

Cade stood against the back wall by the jukebox with his arms at his sides.

I had told him he didn't have to come.

He had said, "I do."

My father held on to the edge of the bar with both hands.

His glasses hung on their cord, and his oxygen tube was gone.

"I need to tell you something," he said.

The room went quiet in a ring.

"Most of you have known me thirty years. You've watched me pour your drinks and cash your checks.

"Some of you came in the week my wife died, and nobody made you pay."

His voice shook, then steadied.

"I'm going to tell you what I did, and I'll say it once.

"I'm not going to ask any of you to forgive me."

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