Okay, I lied about every chapter being about the key. This title seemed more appropriate, seeing as we have already discovered the meaning behind the key. When you read, perhaps you will agree:

-

Chapter 23

Concerning item #3: The Gray Hat 2 (continued)

-

As Spot rode confidently down the road, looking and feeling like a celebrity in the governor's carriage, his victory felt so close now. There was nothing left that could stand in the way, no complications, no hindrances… nothing he may have forgotten.

"Patrick?"

Guess again.

It was a name he hadn't heard in a long time. He turned around toward the voice, and saw a woman standing in the road behind. Her dress was tattered, her hair was a mess, her face was dirty, but Spot could recognize her anyway.

His mother.

"Oh, my goodness," she said, chasing after the carriage. "Can it really be you?"

Spot was in shock, and reacted defensively.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, lady," he said, waving her off. "I ain't no Patrick."

"But you are. Your eyes. I know it's you!"

"Stop for a second, would ya?" Spot told the driver, and he did so.

"Hang on a minute, Teddy," Spot said, hopping out of the buggy to the woman.

"I'm tellin' you, lady. I ain't no Patrick, and I don't know no Patrick. So shove off. Go home."

"I forgive you, Patrick, darling," she said. "In fact I'm forever thankful for that night on the bridge. Just know that, and that I love you still. Come home, please."

"If I meet a Patrick, I'll be sure to tell him that for ya."

The woman sighed, giving up.

"Thank you," she said sadly. "That's all I ask."

She turned to leave.

"Hey hey, lady!" Spot called after her. She turned to face him again.

"I think I know a Patrick back in Brooklyn. I seem to recall him mentionin' somethin' about a mothah. That she was a sweet broad, and he loved her, or somethin'. I don't know. Maybe that's your guy."

She smiled in a grateful relief, and nodded.

"Thank you," she said, with sadness that he insisted on denying her.

Oh god. That was his mother. She must have given up everything to find him, from the way she was dressed. All these years… Memories flooded Spot's mind like a busted dam.

"Hey lady!" he called after her. She stopped and listened.

"You ain't gonna find him in Brooklyn. Word is, he's headed out west. Maybe someday he'll be back for you. If not, just know… he… he turned out a'right."

Relief swelled on her face, and she ran up and embraced him tighter than anyone ever had.

"Oh, my boy! I missed my boy!"

"Yeah, yeah," Spot said, pushing her back. "The name's Spot, by the way."

She looked at him with full understanding, giving him a single nod. She looked upon him with such pride, and smiled faintly, then went on her way.

She looked back once to him only once, with eyes swollen with love, and had the look of a person who was taking a picture in her mind to live on. Then she turned her back to him, and wrapped her cloak tightly around her to fight the chill, and moved on.

"Kind lady," Roosevelt commented, still waiting patiently in his carriage.

Spot still kept his eyes locked on the older woman walking away from him forever, but nodded in complete agreement.

-

The train ride seemed like an eternity to Spot, staring out the window for days on end, wondering if he was too late. Wondering if he had made the right choice. He was so confident when he left, but as always, his head was butting in again, making things complicated. He felt an expected remorse for leaving his beloved Brooklyn behind. So much had happened on the grounds of Brooklyn, so many things had shaped him into the man he was now. Was he really going to change, to settle down, all for a lady?

He looked at his gray newsie hat fondly, remembering when he had stolen it from Snoddy all those years ago to look the part of a newsie. So long ago…

It was then he realized, as the open lands passed by the window of the train:

He already had changed, he already had settled down. He had given up everything for this woman. It was only his mind that was thinking differently. It was time for it to let Brooklyn go.

Spot stood up suddenly, and opened the window of the train. He grinned at his hat for a moment more, then threw it from the train window as hard as he could, and watched as it floated down a hill and drifted into a tree.

And oddly enough, it was a sight that made him smile.

-

Now you know the reason why I said it was "concerning… The Gray Hat". It seemed to have a sense of symmetry to have the hat mark the beginning of his Brooklyn career and now the end of it.

Still working it up toward the climax. It's a doozy. I'll post more very soon. Review for now.

Signed,
--RedRogue