Derek shook his head.
Samuel sat.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Derek said,
“I called him Dad.”
“Yes.”
“In front of her.”
“Yes.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Often.”
Derek laughed weakly.
Then his eyes filled.
“I didn’t go to the funeral because I thought she hated me.”
Samuel waited.
Derek continued.
“Richard called me six weeks before he died.”
Claire did not know this yet.
“Asked me to visit.”
Samuel nodded.
“I know.”
“I said after the championship.”
Silence.
“I won.”
Samuel looked at him.
Derek continued.
“Then I called.”
“He was in hospice.”
“Yes.”
“I could’ve still come.”
“Yes.”
Derek’s face tightened.
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Seeing him like that.”
Samuel nodded.
“Human.”
“No.”
Derek shook his head.
“Cowardly.”
“Both can be true.”
Derek stared at the pavement.
“I sent the flowers because I didn’t know how to walk into a room full of people who did what I didn’t.”
Samuel said nothing.
Derek continued.
“Then every year I stayed away made coming back worse.”
“Yes.”
“I thought today would fix something.”
“Did it?”
Derek laughed softly.
“No.”
“Good.”
Derek looked at him.
Samuel smiled.
“Things that need years should not be fixed in an afternoon.”
That stayed with him.
The fundraiser ended just after six.
Claire expected to leave with her mother.
Instead, she found Derek waiting near the memorial wall.
No cameras.
No students.
No smile.
He held something in both hands.
Richard’s old training notebook.
Claire stopped.
“Where did you get that?”
“Samuel.”
She looked around for the older man.
Gone.
Coward.
Derek held the notebook out.
“I think this is yours.”
Claire did not take it.
“What is it?”
“Your father’s notes.”
“I can see that.”
Derek swallowed.
“Mine are in it.”
Claire looked at him.
“Meaning?”
“He tracked my fights.”
“Samuel showed me the binder.”
“No.”
Derek shook his head.
“This is older.”
Claire finally took the notebook.
The cover was cracked blue vinyl.
Richard had written dates inside.
Training notes.
Student names.
Drills.
Problems.
Some pages were from more than twenty years earlier.
Claire flipped carefully.
There it was.
DEREK — 14.
Too angry after mistakes.
Good speed.
No patience.
Needs structure, not punishment.
Claire read the line twice.
Derek looked away.
She turned another page.
DEREK — 15.
Stayed late to help clean without being asked.
Better control.
Still lies when hurt.
Claire almost smiled.
Another.
DEREK — 17.
Won state qualifier.
Terrible attitude afterward.
Make him teach beginners Tuesday.
Claire laughed.
Derek looked at her.
“He did.”
“What?”
“Made me teach six-year-olds for a month.”
“Good.”
“I hated him.”
“You survived.”
She kept reading.
Then found her name.
CLAIRE — 13.
Too hard on herself.
Stops breathing when frustrated.
Do not praise results first.
Praise choices.
Claire became still.
Derek noticed.
She closed the notebook.
“He wrote everyone down.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Derek shrugged.
“He said memory lies.”
That sounded exactly like Richard.
Claire held the notebook to her chest.
Derek looked toward the old photograph.
“I owe you more than an apology for today.”
Claire said nothing.
“I owe him one too.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
Derek looked at her.
“Nothing.”
That answer surprised her.
“I just want you to know I understand why you’re angry.”
Claire almost snapped back.
Then stopped.
He continued.
“I made a career telling people where I came from.”
He looked around the center.
“Then I acted like coming from here meant I could carry it with me without ever coming back.”
Claire watched him.
“That isn’t the same as loving him.”
“No.”
“I know.”
He swallowed.
“I did love him.”
Claire looked down.
“That makes it worse.”
“Yes.”
No argument.
Again.
That was new.
Derek continued.
“I don’t want you to forgive me because I finally showed up.”
“Good.”
“I want to start showing up.”
Claire looked at him.
“For what?”
He pointed toward the ceiling.
A brown water stain spread across one panel.
“The roof.”
She stared.
“You’re going to write a check?”
“Probably.”
“That’s easy.”
Derek nodded.
“Yes.”
That response disarmed her more than defensiveness.
“So?”
“I asked Samuel what the center actually needs.”
Claire waited.
“Coaches.”
“Mentors.”
“Equipment repairs.”
“Transportation money for kids.”
“Saturday supervision.”
He exhaled.
“Things that require being here.”
Claire looked at him.
“Your schedule?”
“I’ll make one.”
“You live three hours away.”
“I know.”
“Your team?”
“I know.”
“Your sponsors?”
Derek smiled faintly.
“They’ll survive.”
Claire studied him.
Maybe he meant it.
Maybe guilt was talking.
Time would tell.
She handed him the notebook back.
He shook his head.
“No.”
“It’s yours.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“It has your name.”
“It has yours too.”
She looked at the cover.
Derek said,
“He kept it in the office.”
“Samuel said it should go to family.”
“You are family.”
Derek’s face changed.
Claire immediately regretted the sentence.
Not because it was untrue.
Because it was more true than she was ready for.
Derek looked down.
“Thank you.”
Claire sighed.
“Don’t make it dramatic.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
He laughed.
The next Saturday, Derek came back.
No SUV convoy.
No photographer.
He drove himself.
He arrived at eight in the morning wearing jeans and an old Franklin Street sweatshirt Samuel found in storage.
The sleeves were too short.
Claire was not there.
That helped.
Derek spent three hours helping replace damaged ceiling tiles.
Then carried old heavy bags downstairs.
Then swept.
A ten-year-old asked for an autograph.
Derek gave it.
Then asked the boy to hold a ladder.
Samuel watched.
Said nothing.
The week after that, Derek returned again.
Then again.
Not every Saturday.
Enough.
He brought two training partners once.
Samuel put them to work painting.
One asked,
“Are we training?”
Samuel handed him a roller.
“Yes.”
Derek laughed harder than anyone.
The fundraiser money covered part of the roof.
Derek’s sponsorship donation covered another part.
But he insisted his name not be added to the donor plaque.
Samuel asked why.
Derek said,
“Because I already have enough walls with my name on them.”
That answer traveled back to Claire.
She said nothing.
Three months later, Helen called.
“You should come Sunday.”
Claire sighed.
“Why?”
“Derek is teaching.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“He’s teaching beginner footwork.”
“Good for him.”
“Samuel asked me to tell you.”
“Tell Samuel phones work.”