CHAPTER ONE
Twenty years ago …
“Dad! Come on! We’re gonna miss him if we don’t get up there fast!”
“I’m coming, Dennis, I’m coming. I had a long day at work today, you know, and don’t have all of your youthful spontaneity and energy.”
Ten-year-old Dennis Pullman—a short, scrawny boy with smooth black hair—stopped and looked down the ladder at Dad. “My youthful sponta what?”
Dad—who looked a lot like Dennis, except taller and older—smiled his tired smile. “Spontaneity. That means your ability to get up and do things without warning. It’s a good word to describe you.”
Dennis frowned. Dad always used big words like that, mostly because he was an English professor at a nearby university. It usually bothered Dennis whenever Dad used big words, but Dennis was in such a hurry to get to the
