Not yet.
“I didn’t sleep well,” he reminds her.
Her face softens. “Kevin, I also want you to sleep tonight. I’ll compromise; you can have a soda, okay?”
He leans over and rubs his temple against hers, clearly not afraid of the hit it will give his image to show affection to his mother. My chest aches from being in his presence all of a few minutes. Surreptitiously, I rub my hand over it.
Demonstrating he may be my visual image but he’s as observant as his mother, Kevin remarks, “Are you all right, sir?”
Dropping my hand back to the table, I reply, “I drank too much coffee,” to cover the fact I want to burst into tears my teenage son is asking about my welfare. “And if it’s all right with your mom, calling me Jennings is fine,” I hesitate a breath before tacking on quietly, “Son.”
Kevin’s head swivels to Kara, who’s already nodding, much to my relief. He relaxes before he acknowledges, “I was wondering what I should call you. Mom’s kinda strict about addressing people properly as ‘Mr. This’ or ‘Ms. That.’ That would have been a bit awkward with my birth father if you ask me.” I blink in astonishment when my own dimple flashes for a brief moment in a much younger face.
Fortunately, I’m saved from responding when the waiter appears to ask Kara and Kevin their drink orders. Inside I’m relaxing a little. My first act of parenthood and I didn’t screw it up. Or would this be my second, I think glumly. If so, that would mean I fucked up the first, which would be showing up.
“So, Jennings? I have a lot of questions for you.” Kevin’s seems to be calm, but something must alert Kara. She sits up straighter and narrows her eyes on our son.
“Kevin,” she warns.
“Mom says you didn’t know about me, but I’m not so sure. Maybe you can clarify if you just didn’t want me?” His voice is as calm as if he asked if I take cream or sugar in my coffee.
I freeze even as Kara moans, “God, Kevin. We talked about this. Jennings didn’t know.” Her head is in her hands, rocking back and forth. She looks like she’s ready to burst into tears any moment.
Leaning forward, I drop my voice. “I won’t ask for an apology for me. You don’t know me at all. But I will absolutely demand one for your mother.”
“Excuse me?” Kevin’s chair squeaks a bit as he leans forward himself.
“You just flagrantly disrespected your mother by asking that. Ask me anything about my history, my life; I’ll answer it. But it’s obvious by her reaction you upset your mother the first time you asked, and yet you asked it again. That shows a lack of respect for the woman who gave up everything to raise you. Consider her and where we’re at when you ask your questions.” Finished making my point, I sit back, leaving my son seething.
The waiter walks up just then to take our orders, and I snap, “Not now. Come back.”
Kevin smirks in a way that’s disturbingly familiar. I’m horrified when I realize I likely gave every person of authority the same attitude at some point in my teenage years.
Kara takes compassion on me because she issues out a warning “Kevin,” which is heeded immediately.
He sits back in his chair and braces his arms on the table just as his soda is placed in front of him. Twisting his head to the side, he says, “Thank you,” politely to the server I was so rude to earlier.
“You’re welcome,” the waiter says before scurrying away. Of course. Just when I need him to throw me a lifeline by asking if we’re ready to order, I think darkly. I take a drink of my coffee to cover my discomfort.
I’m bracing myself for anything, so I have to blink when Kevin asks, “Tell me, Jennings, what do you like to do?”
“I feel like I’m being interviewed,” I feebly joke.
Kara winces.
“Well, if you don’t mind.” Kevin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of college-ruled paper. I stare. “Mom says I should always make lists of questions about things I’m interested in,” he explains. “That way if I have the opportunity to get them answered, I can.”
I gape at Kara, whose face holds no apology, merely acceptance. “He was an inquisitive child, Jennings. From the moment he could cogitate, I was answering a million questions about a million topics I had no answers to.” For a moment the dark that’s been carefully hidden on her face escapes. “It made us a formidable team at Trivial Pursuit against Jed and Dean, didn’t it?” Her hand runs along his arm.
Kevin swallows hard, the death of his beloved uncles obviously not something he’s easily comfortable with discussing. But, as much as it hurts to think of Jed being gone, I like Kara’s idea of not letting their memories die. Especially for our son.
“Flying,” I blurt out, shifting the focus away from Kevin’s discomfort and back to his questions.
“Really? Like, what kind of planes?” His eyes narrow.
Yep, definitely an interview. I sit up straighter and fold my hands around my cup. “Well, I’m qualified to fly everything up to and including a Gulfstream, but the plane I fly most often for work is a Pilatus PC-12 Turbo-Prop. My personal plane is a Cessna 172.”
“I get a Gulfstream is big; what’s the difference between the other two?” The hostility slips slightly as curiosity takes over. So, without pandering to his age, I explain the difference between the different types of planes, what they can do, and why I use them. Because I keep the explanation straightforward, I estimate that takes me all of five minutes. I prepare myself for my next question, so it’s almost a relief when he asks like a typical teenager, “You own them all?”
I’m about to answer, when Kara frowns before saying, “Kevin.” It’s a rebuke but a gentle one.
He mumbles, “Sorry, Mom,” before explaining, “It’s just the only people I can think of who own their own planes are celebrities. You didn’t tell me my father was like that.”
Shame is making my heart beat erratically. “I’m not, Kevin. I should have explained I own an air charter service in Seattle where I live.”
A myriad of expressions fly across his face before confusion finally lands. “I don’t know what that is,” he admits.
“There are a number of small islands around Washington state people live on. So, boats and planes are used to get everything onto and off of the islands.”
“Like what?” His inquisitive nature is making this easier than I expected.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until Kara’s calm facade drops. She tosses her head back, laughing. “You say that now, Jennings, but I would have loved for you to have been the one to answer his questions about why Elmo is red.”
“My answer would likely not have been anywhere as good as yours, Kara. I would have probably said something about the creators liking a bold color for their craziest character,” I jest.
There’s no way I could have predicted what happened next.
Kevin starts coughing while Kara’s mouth hangs open in stunned silence. “What? Was it something I said?” I’m bewildered.
Kara shakes her head to get her bearings. “I apologize, it’s just—”
“Yes?”
Kevin answers for her. “That’s pretty close to what she said, Jennings.” With a private smile, he picks up the pen he placed next to his list and scratches off a question near the bottom of the list. I feel a crazy burst of pride I survived another question without trying. “Now, back to flying. Are you like FedEx with overnight delivery?”
Deadpan, I tell him, “Does FedEx transport bodies?”
I lift my coffee to hide my smile when Kevin screeches, “Bodies?”
Just then our waiter comes back. His words wipe the smile right off my face when he asks, “Before you ask where he hid the dead ones, would you like to place your order?”
Being interrupted erases the ease off Kevin’s face. My muscles bunch as my temper slips. Kara quickly leans across the table, places her hand on mine, before saying, “Let me.”
Breathing hard, I settle back. Over time, I hope Kara
learns to trust me enough to protect our son. And maybe when we’re all together, her. But right now, I have to let her handle this.
“What’s your name?” Kara asks with false sweetness. This must be her teacher-to-student face. Suddenly intrigued, I sit back to watch her work.
“Um, Patrick,” the kid, not much older than Kevin, stammers.
“Well, Patrick, let me take a moment to explain something I was taught by Henry James.”
“Do I care?” he snarks.
I’m about to jerk Kara and Kevin out of there when Kara quotes the literary genius. “Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” Her smile fades before her next words come out. “You work in an industry where you rely on the benevolence of strangers for your livelihood. It behooves you to behave in a manner accordingly.”
Instead of addressing Kara, he bumps Kevin’s arm. “Does she talk to you like this a lot?”
Kevin doesn’t hesitate before answering. “Yeah.”
“Then maybe you can translate, because I have no idea what the hell she just said.”
And much to my immense satisfaction, my son snarls, “Stop being a rude dick and listening in on all your customer’s conversations. Maybe then your tips will pick up. Otherwise”—he gives a negligent shrug—“I suspect more people than my mother and father will be complaining to your management. Oh, and for the record, I’d like pancakes.”
If I’m bursting with pride, I can only imagine what Kara’s feeling. This boy/man she raised from the time he was mere cells in her body didn’t hide he wasn’t down with what was going on. He also, with a few words, showed his mother she had his support and love.
Less than a half hour in his presence, and I’m already falling for him.
Then Kara pipes in with, “I’d like waffles with blueberries on the side.” She leans forward and hands her menu to the waiter, who hasn’t made a move to take it.
I lift it from her hands, not letting her hold on to any more burden than she has to, not anymore. “And I’ll take the manager’s special. Plus I’ll take the manager,” I tack on.
That seems to startle the kid out of his trance. Quickly he pulls out his pad, writes everything down, snatches the menus from my hands, and darts toward the kitchen.
Kevin painstakingly draws a line through another question on his list. Then he asks me, “So, are the bodies dead?”
And despite the fact I know I’ll continue to be interrogated for the rest of the meal, Kevin’s question snaps the tension between all of us. Somehow we all manage to stop laughing before the manager arrives at our table to profusely apologize before we have to say a word.
Jennings
“So, what happens now,” Kevin asks after we make our way out of the cafe. “Is this ‘see you until I graduate’ or something? Or do we make plans for actually getting to know one another?”
I’m exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. I don’t know if I’ve ever talked so much about myself as I was answering the list of questions my son threw at me.
Except maybe when I was getting to know his mother.
Knowing he’s part Kara’s, I should have expected he’d ask anything that came to mind. But his questions took me all over the place. But when the simple “What’s your favorite color?” which I easily answered, “Blue,” segued to, “Do you believe using a nuclear energy—the kind that makes bombs—could propel a spaceship faster than chemical rockets, thereby accelerating the space program into a new generation of exploration?” I thought I was going to need the Heimlich maneuver.
Fortunately, while I recovered, Kara intervened. “Stop trying to interview people for your AP Physics project without giving them any context. We’ve talked about that. You need to give them an introduction and ask their permission to use the question in the results, otherwise it doesn’t count.”
“I wasn’t going to use his answer,” Kevin argued.
Kara just raised a brow.
“Well, unless it was a really good one. I mean, come on, Mom. Jennings is a pilot. He might have some insight into the topic.”
“Maybe if I understood half of what you asked, I might have an opinion on it,” I muttered.
Kevin’s dimple popped out before he presented an explanation about the kind of energy it takes to launch a rocket into space. During that time, I sipped coffee and openly admired the young man, while secretly admiring the woman who raised him.
How did she do it? I want to ask her, but it obviously wasn’t the time.
Now, we’re outside awkwardly blocking the narrow sidewalk. And I have to explain what happens in the immediate future. I have no idea how it’s going to be received. “Well, I have to fly back,” I start.
Kevin’s face closes up, and Kara’s face pales even as her lips compress together. I hurriedly continue. “I only packed enough clothes for the weekend. I need to get enough stuff to last me for the summer, a work computer, things like that. I can run my business from here, but I need time to prepare.” Seeing the relief Kevin’s trying to hide, I dare to lift a hand to his shoulder and squeeze. “I’ll only be gone three days tops.”
“Oh…okay. Sorry, it was just… Sorry.”
“We’re all dealing with something new here, Kevin. And I think I’ve proven there’s nothing you can’t ask me.” I hold his eyes as I speak the truth. I don’t look at Kara because right now, this is about regaining the altitude I might have lost with my son. It’s not about her. At least, it shouldn’t be.
Or, it isn’t until I hear her soft voice chime in, “I never gave that much thought, Jennings. I’m sorry.” And when I do look at her, her face is contrite.
And standing on a sidewalk, with my hand on our son’s shoulder, the final barrier between the memories of me and Kara gives way. Oh, God. The last time she said that to me was the night I called her to break up with her. “You’re right, Jennings. I never gave that much thought. I’m sorry you want it to end because I feel so much for you. Just know you’ll always have a special place in my heart.”
Right before she hung up.
My fingers tighten around Kevin’s shoulder.
“Jennings, it’s okay. Really,” Kevin reassures me. “I get it. None of us were prepared for this, were we?” His laugh is hollow.
“No, but I’ll be back. I promise.” My voice is hoarse. “Just a couple of days.” Then I flinch when I recall how many times I said that too. My mind conjures up memories of saying that to Kara with her long hair draped over my arm as we lay on the grass in the Smiths’ backyard. She’d nod and say…
“I know, Jennings. Don’t worry. Just…travel safe.” Suddenly, she takes a tiny step back as if she too was thrown back into a time vortex sixteen years ago. Because she said that.
Every fucking time I had to leave.
“I’ll call you when I land,” I tell them both.
Kevin tilts his head. “I’m assuming you didn’t fly commercial.”
I bark out a laugh. “No. I flew up one of my planes.”
“How long…” Kara starts, and then she stops herself from asking as if she doesn’t have a right to know when other than the boy who’s my mirror image, she probably has the right to know more about me than any other person in the world. Lifting her face to the misting rain that started while we were having breakfast, Kara prompts Kevin, “Is there something you’d like to ask your father?”
“Oh, yeah! Mom said it was all right to ask if you wanted to come to dinner tomorrow.”
I want to say yes with everything that’s in me, but I know if I don’t leave to go back to Seattle now, today, I won’t go. “Can I take a rain check on it? If I leave today, I can be back in time for dinner, say Tuesday?”
Even as Kevin’s nodding, my heart’s pounding while I wait for Kara to respond. I’m trying to not let anyone down. I’m trying to not screw up this opportunity. I’m trying to behave responsibly, but part of that is taking care of the people who work f
or me.
Kara nods. “That’s fine. Let me know if there’s something special you want otherwise we tend to feed in bulk to accommodate the hollow leg in the house.”
Kevin puffs out his chest. “I proudly resemble that remark.”
“So does our food bill, darling, but that’s okay.” They both laugh when Kara pats him on his flat stomach. But my heart clenches not only at the byplay, but with worry. Kara and I need to have a conversation right after I have one with my attorneys.
“So, Tuesday?” I bring them back around to the original topic at hand.
“That sounds good, Jennings.” Kevin holds out his hand. I take it and shake it firmly. “Thank you for joining us today.” God, his manners are beyond reproach. Now, I wish I’d pushed harder to meet Jed’s husband while he was alive so I could say thank you for being the parent I should have been. But it’s too late. And it’s way too soon for me to grab my son and hug him.
Instead I turn to Kara and pray all of the emotion in two simple words conveys when I say, “Thank you.”
Her “Of course. It’s what Kevin wanted” tells me so much about the kind of mother she is. “We’ll see you Tuesday.” Turning, the two of them make their way down the street to the public parking garage.
While I wait until they become specks, I call Lou, telling her I’ll be in the office tomorrow. I contact the airfield to fuel up the Cessna. And I call my attorneys to arrange for a late-evening meeting. “No, I don’t give a damn how much it costs. These changes are urgent. I have to have them signed before I fly out Monday,” I snarl, before I press End on the phone.
Then, I stalk off in the direction of the same public parking garage to head to the B&B. Once there, I slam right into Ron, which is a good thing as I was going to hunt him out anyway. “Ron, do you have availability to rent me my room for the summer?”
Ron smiles before walking behind the desk. Pulling up his computer, he murmurs, “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Jennings.”
“I’m grateful.” And I truly am. Because even this small act will allow me to get to know my son better.
Return by Air (Glacier Adventure Series Book 1) Page 12