“Not so much here, but in the large towns and cities, yes. England isn’t what it used to be,” Pete stated. “So, you’re a hero.”
“No. Just somebody who stood up and did the correct thing.”
“That takes courage. I’d wear that injury like a badge of honour, my friend.”
Confused, I frowned at Pete. “What do you mean?”
“Adam, you got that protecting hundreds of innocents, if not thousands. You challenged a bad man who had only darkness in his heart, and you lived while he didn’t. That leg wound, Adam, doesn’t make you less of a man; it shows exactly what type of man you are. A strong man who cares about the defenceless and those weaker than him. I’m glad I made your acquaintance.”
Surprised, I stared at Pete, trying to find any sarcasm or mockery in his words. There was none I could discern.
“What surprises you about my words?” Pete asked.
“Damn, I’ve never thought of it like that.” I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure how I felt hearing it.
“Bet you haven’t. The type of man you are, I bet you looked more at your disability than the positives,” Pete said, but there was no ire in his tone.
“Yeah, I felt less because of the injury,” I admitted openly. The younger three weren’t listening, instead, they were arguing about what they’d do when they got back to the inn.
Walker, however, was paying close attention. “Nobody ever believed that, just you.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
“No probably about it, Dad. Nobody judged you for having a limp. But your attitude upset a lot of us. We didn’t like how you reacted or thought about yourself.” Walker wasn’t holding back.
“I see.”
“You changed overnight. Our dad disappeared, and you became a bitter, nasty shit,” Walker continued, and I laughed.
Pete burst out laughing, too. “Got a good lad there. Speaks the truth and from the heart.”
“Dad, I’m proud of what you did. Loads of people could have been killed, and you put yourself on the line. I don’t care you’ve got a limp; it could have been amputated for all I care. I’m just proud of who you are because a lot of my school friends’ parentscowered behind locked doors. None of those in my class can say their dad is a hero.”
I stared at Walker in surprise as his words sank in. “Didn’t know you thought like that.”
“Dad, you didn’t bother to find out!” he retorted.
I couldn’t deny that.
“Well, now. Seems as if you’ve both had a breakthrough. Good luck to you both and Happy Christmas.” Pete got up and touched his head in a salute before shuffling out.
“Pete didn’t stay for his food.” Walker frowned.
“No.” The waitress appeared with a plate for me and one for Walker. “Sorry, Ma’am, the guy with us left. Can we cancel his order?”
She looked confused. “What guy? There wasn’t anyone else.”
“Pete, he ordered the shepherd’s pie,” I said.
She paled, staggered, and placed a hand on the table. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re playing at. Pete died last Christmas. He always ordered the shepherd’s pie.”
“Are you kidding me? The guy was sitting right here!” I exclaimed.
A woman I recognised hurried over.
“What’s going on?” Rose-Marie asked.
“This customer claims Pete was here,” the waitress hissed as grief shone on her face.
