The Kids Are Gonna Ask

by Gretchen Anthony

  “These are working hours. Nothing stronger until we’re off the clock.” She pointed a blue-and-white-striped fingernail at him. “Anyway, probably best you have a clear head today.”

  Jack nodded, adding nothing.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You come here to think or to talk? Either one’s fine by me. But if you’re here to think, I’m gonna get some work done while you’re at it.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. He knew he ought to check his email, see if there was word from Thomas. Only, today’s decision had to be about Ford. About how to make things right. And he also knew that if Thomas still wasn’t answering his apology email, Jack just might not be able to handle it.

  Janie turned back to her screen. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  There were a handful of smaller decisions Jack had to make, too. Loose ends he needed to tie up before he was gone. Here, Janie’s tick-tick-ticking keyboard and the pattering of the rain against the metal roof of her garage worked like a talisman on his thoughts, commanding them to shut up, line up and sort themselves into groups.

  Janie typed. Jack sat. The storm passed.

  Ford was right when he’d told Jack he was looking in his rearview mirror. Jack may have left Hartwell years ago, but he hadn’t gone anywhere. Not really. Nor would he until he cut anchor.

  He decided, too, he was done living as a stranger in his own town. Maybe as a kid he hadn’t chosen to be the odd one, the boy singled out for circumstances beyond his control. But he hadn’t been a kid since he left Hartwell. Being the stranger in town was a role he’d gone on to pick for himself.

  Students who intend to graduate don’t flunk out.

  Men who see a future for themselves don’t look for it in a transient mountain town.

  Yankees who yearn for their roots don’t stay in the Old South.

  Jack wanted more. He wanted a home. He wanted a family. He wanted a life. And he’d wasted all those years ignoring the subtle signs that would have shown him how to reel it all in.

  But at least he could finally point to where he wanted to go.

  “Janie,” Jack said. “I think I’m ready.”

  Thirty-Six

  Jack

  “Well, well,” Janie said. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Jack?”

  “Guess so.” It hadn’t taken long to lay out his plan to Janie, who had agreed and said she figured that was the way things had to be.

  It was his last request she hadn’t expected.

  “I’ll make sure it happens,” she promised. “He’ll fuss and tell me what to do with myself, but he’ll come around. Ford ain’t afraid of Slush and neither am I.” She popped up from her desk chair and pulled him up from the couch into a hug. “You’re a good man, Jack. Tybee’s gonna miss you.”

  The rain started again, pounding his windshield by the time Jack pulled up at Ford’s a few minutes later. Ford heard him coming and had the door open before he’d even stopped.

  “My guess is you’re coming with your answer.” He ushered him in. Ford’s house wasn’t anything fancy, a painted cement brick rambler with a trim yard and a car park, but it was tidy and had most everything a person needed. “I’d offer you a drink, but I can see on your face you’re not stayin’.”

  Jack shook his head. “I think you probably already know what I’ve decided.”

  “Yeah, but I’m gonna make you say it, anyway.”

  The moment had come. Jack shoved his fists in his pockets and forced out the words. “You ought to take Slush’s offer. The money’s better and you deserve it.”

  He wanted to see a change on Ford’s face, something to reassure him that Ford knew he was being sincere. But he didn’t.

  “I know Slush’ll crow and carry on and try to make you feel miserable about handing your business over to him, but he’s not going anywhere. Slush’s people have been on Tybee as far back as anyone remembers. He’s loud, but he’s Tybee. And that means he’ll take care of what you built.”

  Ford studied him, his scowl framed by the deep lines of all those years in the sun. Then, finally, he laughed. “I wish I could stand here and say Slush ain’t the son of a bitch he seems to be. ’Cept he is. Most days. Give or take a time or two.”

  Jack chuckled. “He wants your business something awful, though.”

  “That he does.”

  “Which is why I have one request.” Jack didn’t have to read Ford’s mind to know he was treading awful close to pissing him off. “I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you. I didn’t mean to create such a mess of things, but I did. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

  Ford gave him a small nod, accepting the apology.

  “Maybe once you hear what I’m asking, though, it might make accepting Slush’s offer just a little bit sweeter.”

  Jack told him what he had in mind. It wasn’t much. Not nearly enough to erase the aggravation he’d caused, but enough to make Ford bark with laughter.

  “Janie’s promised to help make sure it happens,” Jack assured him.

  “Oh, I’m sure she has. She’s been pushing Slush around since they were riding the school bus together.”

  He walked over to his kitchen table and picked up a piece of paper from the stacks he must have been working on while waiting for Jack to show.

  “I had my lawyer put this together.” He handed the paper to Jack. “Had a hunch we’d need it.”

  The header read Dissolution of Contract. Jack pulled a pen from his pocket and signed. The less he drew this out, the better. He handed Ford his pen, and he did the same.

  “I suppose you want to know what I decided on the other,” Jack said.

  “Would be good.”

  Jack wished he could give him more than news. “My dad’s in tough shape. Like always. But he fell, and it sounds like it was bad. I need to go home and be of some use while I’m there.”

  “You gonna stay long?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “My family and I aren’t made for long.”

  “Then?”

  “Then, forward.”

  Ford nodded, and this, Jack realized with relief, told him Jack had heard his advice.

  “They know you want to meet ’em?” Ford asked.

  “Not yet. I’ll reach out. Try my best to do it right for once.”

  “Well. Seems to me like a good first step.”

  Jack hoped so. “You know I want to thank you for everything, right? For more than the job or for taking the chance on me. I mean it. For everything.”

  Ford held out his hand and Jack took it. “And you know if you get emotional on me, I’m going to kick you out on your ass in the rain.”

  Jack grinned. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

  “Didn’t think so.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “Now go. Before the storm starts again or I change my mind or both.”

  Jack waved one last time as he drove away, and saw that Ford was smiling.

  * * *

  Jack suspected it wouldn’t take long to pack up and get on his way. He didn’t have many more charters booked and there wasn’t much in his apartment worth taking. He’d already had to surrender the security deposit on the place for all the damage he’d done.

  Even so, he woke the next morning to a fist pounding on his front door.

  “This is getting really old, Carter.” He wasn’t about to let on to the kid that he was just the person Jack had been hoping to see.

  “I’ll stop bangin’ on yer door soon as you stop sleepin’ through yer morning charters. Yer jus’ lucky I got nothin’ better to do ’til I’m old enough to be a deckhand.”

  Jack opened the door.

  “Same old story, then.”

  “Yer sleepin’ when you should be out on the water and I want to be out on the water but no one’ll let me.�
��

  “What if I said I took care of that?” He wondered how long it would take before the kid caught on.

  Carter eyed him. “You sayin’ you got a spot fer me on yer boat?”

  Jack shook his head. “Nah. Not me. I’m done with the fishing business. Ford’s retiring and I’m moving on. Slush, though. As soon as you turn fifteen, go see him. Tell him you’re ready to take your spot on deck.”

  “Slush ain’t never promised me no spot.”

  “No. But he’ll have one for you. As soon as you turn fifteen, you’re old enough and he won’t have the excuse of having to pay you under the table. If he gives you a hard time, go see Ford or Janie. They’ll make sure he follows through.”

  Carter backed up. “Yer leavin’?”

  Jack nodded. “Family stuff.”

  “Fer good then?”

  “Most likely, yeah. But here’s the thing. Ford gave me a chance no one else would have. I didn’t treat him nearly as well as he treated me, that’s for sure. But I figure I ought to at least try to do for someone else what he did for me.”

  “So, you got me a job with Slush?”

  That was the plan. “You want to learn the fishing business, right?”

  “’Course.”

  “Then that’s what I did.” He waited a few seconds, letting the kid sort everything he was telling him. Then Jack said, “You’re driven and you’re responsible, Carter. More responsible than me, even. You’ve earned your shot.”

  He held out a hand for him to shake, and Carter eyed him again, still wary. But he took Jack’s hand and shook it.

  “Hold on,” Jack told him, walking back inside for something. He found it quick and went back out to the porch. He handed Carter the same packet of maps Ford had handed him all those years ago—laminated, spiral-bound and flecked with the rain, grime and sea spray of their travels. “Any good fisherman knows the importance of a good map.”

  BOOK THREE

  Thirty-Seven

  Thomas

  Thomas never called people on the phone if he could text, email or Snapchat instead. This time, he didn’t have a choice.

  “Thank you for calling Big Tybee Fishing Adventures. Can we book you a charter?”

  The mess with Jack and Savannah was his fault, and he was willing to do anything to fix it. He’d already called three other fishing charters and Jack didn’t work at any of them.

  “Hi, I’m looking for John—um, sorry—Jack Thorson. Does he work for your company?”

  The woman on the phone paused. “You’re looking for Jack Thorson?”

  “Yes.” Thomas felt a surge of promise. “I’m trying to get in touch with him. Is he a guide with your company?”

  “No, not with Big Tybee.”

  “All right.” He was about to apologize for bothering her when he realized she sounded sort of curious. Everyone else had just hung up at that point, but she was still there. Thomas said, “Do you happen to know what fishing charter he works for on Tybee?”

  “Sure do.”

  When she didn’t say any more, he knew he had something.

  “Could you tell me?”

  “Depends. You’re gonna have to tell me who you are first.”

  This, Thomas was prepared for. He and Savannah had done so many cold calls for the podcast they’d developed a strategy. “I’m a friend of the family and I’m trying to reach him, but I don’t have his cell phone number.”

  “Hmm. Funny. Jack’s had all kinds of ‘family friends’ looking for him lately.”

  “I, uh—are you talking about the podcast?”

  “Well, lemme tell ya. I’ve had a guy offer me two hundred dollars for any pictures I have of Jack. I had a guy offer me fifty dollars to drive him to Jack’s house. And I had a guy offer me three hundred dollars to book him on one of Jack’s charters.”

  The woman hesitated just long enough Thomas wondered if she was trying to shake him down for cash. Finally, she said, “I just have a hunch, though. You’re not with one of them tabloids, are ya?”

  “No.” He realized he was shaking his head wildly. “No, I promise I’m not.”

  “I didn’t think so. You sound a little bit too young to get messed up with all their nonsense.”

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “But then again, here you are calling random Tybee fishing charters trying to find him.”

  “I don’t have his cell phone number. And you don’t have to give it to me. If you could maybe just pass on a message?”

  “Have you emailed him?”

  “Yeah. But he stopped answering. I think he might be mad.”

  The woman let out a long, quiet whistle. “Listen, I’m a friend of Jack’s. And a few of us around here feel a certain protection for him, with all that’s happened lately. So, here’s what I’m gonna propose—I’m gonna tell you a bit about me, then I want you to prove who you are by answering some questions. You good with that?”

  “Um, all right.”

  “Good. Then, my name’s Janie. I’ve known Jack since he moved to Tybee to work for Inland Fishing Adventures. That’s not the company you just called, but I happen to answer the phones for both. I’m sort of a central office to a bunch of companies here on Tybee. Chances are, if you’d kept calling random charters, you’d get me again. So, really, it’s sort of your lucky day.”

  Thomas let out a sigh of relief. “Hope so.”

  “Okay.” Her tone changed like she was smiling. “Now that you know my name, I’m going to guess that your name is Thomas. Am I right?”

  He hadn’t realized she so obviously knew who he was. “I, uh—”

  “No, I know. You shouldn’t give yourself up without proof. So, here it is. I know you and Jack had been emailing. I also know you hadn’t told your sister about it.”

  “What?” The conversation had suddenly gone off a cliff and he was in free fall. “Wait, just stop. Who are you?”

  “Look, I’m not trying to corner you. But you called looking for a friend of mine who’s been in a bit of a pickle lately. And I happen to know that you and Jack were emailing because he told me. Not everything, mind you, but enough to know he suddenly had a lot to think about.”

  “Okay.” Thomas couldn’t believe he was standing in his kitchen in Minneapolis talking to a woman in Georgia who actually knew his father. It was almost too much to process. So close to solving the mystery that had upended their lives.

  “How do I know you’re not going to turn around and tell someone everything I say—like, one of those people offering you money?”

  “You don’t. But I will tell you something they haven’t seemed to figure out yet.” She stopped.

  “Yeah?”

  “Jack is leaving Tybee.”

  Thomas felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. “What? For good?”

  “Well now, Thomas, I can’t tell you that until you keep your end of the bargain. I need you to answer a question for me that proves you are who I think you are.”

  His head was such a mess he surrendered. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “All right, true or false. Jack sleeps well during thunderstorms.”

  He knew this! It wasn’t some trick question. It was easy. “False!” He was practically hollering.

  “Whoa!” She laughed. “And why is that?”

  “Because of the lightning. It makes his ears pop or crackle or something. I can’t remember exactly what he said but it happens to me, too, only slightly different. It’s one of the reasons he started to believe he might be our dad. Because we mentioned it on one of the podcasts. Not the exact problem, but just that I don’t sleep well when there’s lightning, and then he emailed and said he thought he knew why I didn’t sleep well and told me what happened to him during storms and, like, we knew. Neither one of us had ever met anyone who has that problem.”

&nbs
p; It was way more than Janie really needed to know, but it felt so good to explain all the amazing coincidences.

  “All right!” Janie was laughing even harder now. “Relax. You passed. I believe you, Thomas.”

  He took a breath to calm down and said, “But Jack left?”

  “He did, or he’s going to. Family stuff. I’ll let him tell you.”

  “But, see—”

  “I know. You’re trying to find him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How about I tell him we spoke. It’s not my place to give away his private phone number, but I’ll be happy to pass along the message for you. Now that I trust you are who you say.”

  “Thanks.”

  He knew the next step was to hang up. To end the call and wait for Jack to get in touch. But he couldn’t. He needed her to understand just how important it was for Jack to call him back.

  “Can you just, I dunno, tell him—” What? That Thomas was such a screwup he’d possibly destroyed Jack’s life and his relationship with Savannah? That he wanted to get to know Jack as their father, even though he wouldn’t ever be their dad? That he and Savannah were really more normal than they seemed?

  “Just, tell him I’m sorry. For the mess. We really didn’t mean for it to happen. And, well...” He tried to make sense of his thoughts but couldn’t. “Just tell him that, I guess.”

  “I will, Thomas. And one more thing?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t you want to leave me your phone number, so he can call you back?”

  Thirty-Eight

  Maggie

  Maggie smiled and patted herself on the back. She’d just completed the one job she promised herself she’d do today: she made an appointment with a cardiologist. It was in a week. And she was going to show up.

  She opened her calendar and wrote the details in pen. August 4. Dr. Addington. 3 p.m.

  She closed the planner just as the phone rang.

  “Hello?” She’d quit answering with McClair residence as soon as the reporters started calling. Telling a stranger her name gave too much away.