The Kids Are Gonna Ask

by Gretchen Anthony

  “No!” Maggie rushed to her and wrapped Savannah in her arms. “Oh my heavens, no. I feel fine. In fact, I have an appointment at the doctor just to make absolutely sure.”

  “Okay, good.” Savannah was muffled against Maggie’s robe, but neither of them let go.

  “We need to be able to trust you.” Thomas’s voice was tight, and Maggie could hear the tears coming. “I want to come home and feel safe, not stuck in a house full of strangers. I want to be able to tell you about my day. And I want you to listen. Everything I say doesn’t have to lead to some story about Granddad when he was young.”

  His first tear fell, and he wiped it away quickly. “We’re our own people.”

  “Is that why you wanted so badly to find Jack? Because he’s all yours?”

  Thomas grabbed a napkin and wiped his face dry. “Part of it, yeah.”

  “Ours and Mom’s, actually,” Savannah said. “He was Mom’s, first.”

  An unexpected chuckle escaped Maggie’s throat. “I guess it’s funny, then. That it was Jack, not me, who told you the first new thing you’d heard in a long time.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Thomas’s voice was still wobbly with emotion.

  Maggie promised to try and do better.

  “Maybe it’s not all bad.” Savannah released Maggie from their embrace and sat up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I wanted to meet our biodad. But I really wanted to learn as much as I could about Mom.” She wiped her nose. “Good news is, we’re doing both.”

  In Maggie’s mind, Bess giggled suddenly, and whispered, She’s right. My fabulous daughter is right.

  Trigg:

  My parents just called and they’re not picking me up until next week! I’m going to die!!! [skull emoji] [praying hands emoji] [sobbing emoji]

  Trigg:

  My grandma just told me she was going to Target and asked if I needed any maxi pads!!! OMG

  Trigg:

  At least Kyle Larson is a Cornhuskers fan, tho [football emoji]

  Trigg:

  We’ve been texting [football emoji] [corn emoji] [football emoji] [corn emoji]

  Trigg:

  OMG I think I might like Kyle. Don’t be mad!!! Are you mad???

  Trigg:

  ARE YOU EVER GOING TO ANSWER ME?????

  Forty-Two

  Savannah

  Savannah slept in. All the late-night emotion of the past several days had taken its toll, and she was officially exhausted.

  It was sometime past noon when she finally crawled out of bed. She’d heard the mailman, who never came before lunch, and the sound of him opening the slot in the front door made her stomach growl. She headed downstairs in search of food.

  She grabbed the scattered pieces of mail from the floor in the entryway and flipped through on her way to the kitchen. Most of it was college brochures, until she saw a fat white envelope addressed to Savannah McClair.

  The return address was “Tybee Inland Fishing Adventures.”

  Whoa.

  Savannah clutched the envelope and ran upstairs to her room. She sat on her bed for a long time, looking at the envelope. The handwriting was masculine and square. The postmark was from Tybee Island, Georgia. Obviously, Jack. Or a hoax from some hater with just enough smarts to think about postmarks.

  It could be bad.

  It could be from Jack.

  She ripped it open.

  Two envelopes lay inside. One read open first. The second read open the other letter first. Both in the same boxy penmanship.

  Obviously, the juicy stuff was hiding in that second envelope. The sender may as well have written, “The contents of this envelope are so incredible, they may burn your eyeballs right out of your head.”

  She went straight for it. He had to have known she would.

  Then again—if Jack really was her dad, this was a pivotal moment. She was only going to get to open these letters once. She had an idea.

  A minute later, Nadine was knocking on her bedroom door. “Savannah? I got your text.”

  She hurried Nadine inside. “I need a favor. I got these in the mail. I think they’re from Jack.”

  “Whoa,” Nadine said.

  “I know. You’re not the only one.” The surprise was definitely mutual. “Thing is, I need you to hold them up to the light and tell me if you can see anything that shows what order I should open them in.” She held up the second envelope. “I mean, I’m thinking the good stuff is probably in here. But context is everything. Like, will I understand what’s in the second envelope if I don’t read this one first?”

  Nadine took them both and walked to the window. She held them up, one at a time, and peered inside as best she could. Finally, she turned back. “I think you ought to open them in order.”

  Of course, Nadine would say that. Any sane person would.

  “Did you see anything? Like, something terrible that makes you think maybe I shouldn’t even open them at all?”

  “No. I just think he had his reasons, you know?”

  Savannah nodded. “Will you sit with me while I read the first one? Just in case?”

  “Sure, but wouldn’t you rather do this with Trigg?”

  “She’s in Nebraska.” It was an excuse. Even a few weeks ago, Savannah would have called Trigg, and she would have come right over, and they would have spent hours speculating on what the letters might say and spinning scenarios on every single what if they could imagine. Then Trigg would tell Savannah what to do and she’d do it.

  That was back then.

  “All right.” Nadine sat down on the rug with her back against the bed. Savannah joined her. She told herself to quit thinking so hard and eased the first envelope open.

  It was a letter in the same handwriting.

  Dear Savannah,

  My name is John James Thorson and I knew your mother.

  She realized she was shaking. “I can’t read it.”

  Nadine looked at her, confused.

  “I’m trying to read the words, but it’s like I can’t absorb them. My brain is running too hard to take them in, like I’m on overload.”

  “Okay.” Nadine took the letter but refused to look at it. “Don’t you think that’s sort of private? Something you should read with Thomas, or even Maggie?”

  Savannah shook her head. “It’s not addressed to them. It’s addressed to me.” She could have called Thomas, but something in her screamed no. She wanted this moment for herself. Thomas had gotten plenty already.

  “Plus,” she told Nadine, “you’re so calm. My brain won’t have any choice but to settle down and listen.”

  “You’re sure?” Nadine and her lovely eyebrows begged an honest response.

  “Positive.” Then, “No. Wait.”

  Savannah stood, grabbed a pillow from her bed, and tucked it behind her spine where the bed frame hit. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

  Nadine began.

  Just as she’d hoped, Savannah’s brain settled down and listened.

  Dear Savannah,

  My name is John James Thorson and I knew your mother.

  I think you already know about me, but I assumed you knew about me before and I was wrong. So I’d like to introduce myself in my own words.

  Most people these days call me Jack. I’m 40 and I live in Georgia as a fishing guide on an island off the coast called Tybee. This is going to sound like I’m lying, but Tybee is just 20 minutes from Savannah, GA and highway 80 runs all the way there, connecting the two. It’s just a coincidence, I know. But also cool.

  At this, Savannah stopped Nadine. “He’s talking about my name, right? That’s the coincidence he thinks is cool?”

  “Must be,” she said.

  Savannah smiled. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  As I write this, I’m actually gett
ing ready to move out of Georgia. I’m going to drive to Colorado and spend time with my parents. They own a wheat farm in Hartwell in the eastern part of the state. I haven’t been the greatest son and I haven’t helped much with the farm or with my parents as they’ve gotten older. That’s a long story I’ll tell you sometime (if you want to hear it). My dad fell recently and anyway—I’m heading out to CO for a while.

  I listen to a lot of podcasts, but I heard about yours from a kid who was on my boat one day. The show is great—I want to tell you that. You have a lot of talent and even if I didn’t think I might be the guy you’re looking for, I would have kept listening. I know you want to become a producer someday and I hope you do.

  This time, Nadine stopped to say, “That’s really nice.”

  But Savannah couldn’t take in the compliment, not from a stranger. “Mmm. Keep going.”

  When I saw the picture of Thomas on your website it was pretty shocking. I looked exactly like him at that age. I even have the gap in my teeth and I never got braces so mine is still there, too. If I had a picture with me I’d send it to you, but I don’t, so I’ll just tell you that I’m tall—6´1˝—and I’m still pretty thin even though I don’t eat great, being a bachelor (which is NOT to say I expect a woman to cook for me but just that I work late and it’s not all that easy to cook for one). Anyway, I’ve always had wavy hair and freckles like Thomas does, too.

  “Wait. Don’t you think it’s strange he doesn’t have any pictures of himself? I mean, who doesn’t have pictures? He could snap a selfie right now and text it to us.”

  “Does he have your cell number?”

  “No. But I mean, there are options.”

  Nadine bobbed her head. “Yeah. But maybe he’s just not that into technology, spending his time on the boat and all.”

  “He listens to podcasts.”

  “You could ask for one,” said Nadine, of course, being the totally logical person she was.

  “True.”

  Nadine went back to reading.

  I began emailing Thomas after I’d heard enough clues that I knew (at least believed) this had to be more than coincidence. I honestly thought I was emailing with both of you and I guess now I should have asked why it was always Thomas who replied but maybe you were busy with the show or something. I’m really sorry, Savannah. I feel responsible for coming between you and your brother and that was never my intention.

  Savannah put a hand on Nadine’s arm and said, “It’s good that he’s a guy who can apologize, right? I don’t trust people who can’t apologize.”

  Nadine agreed.

  If it turns out that I am your biodad, I want you to know that I never knew about you and Thomas. Not that I blame your mom, either. She was really smart and had plans for her future and I was sort of a ski bum who didn’t know what I wanted to do. So, I’m glad you and Thomas both seem to have inherited her smarts. I’m not dumb, I just haven’t always taken advantage of the opportunities I had in front of me. Your mom probably saw that in me and knew I wasn’t ready to be a father. At least, that’s my best guess.

  I would like to meet you and Thomas someday, if you’re interested. I’d be willing to do a paternity test and answer whatever other questions you have. I don’t know what sort of relationship you’d like from me, if any. I didn’t ever expect to be in this situation. But I feel like, most of all, I want you to know that if I am your biodad, I’m not ashamed. You’ve been treated pretty awful by some people and even I had people trying to find me on Tybee. That’s why I want you to know these things. You’re both really impressive and inspiring. If you don’t want any sort of a relationship, I will understand.

  Anyway, you’re probably wondering about the second envelope. Inside you’ll find the story of how I met your mom and the week we spent together. I want to give you something I never told anyone. Maybe it will even the score—though I realize that’s the wrong word because this isn’t a game. I guess I’m just trying to be fair. But I also realize you may not want to know that story. So, you can do whatever you want with that envelope. Read it or not—it’s up to you. If you choose to name me in the podcast or use the story there, I won’t deny it.

  I just want to say, do what you think is best. I won’t reach out again unless I hear from you. I’ll put my cell number at the bottom of this letter (Thomas has my email address, but my computer is broken).

  Best regards,

  Jack (Thor) Thorson

  Nadine waited for Savannah to say something.

  “I can’t feel my hands. I think I’ve gone completely numb.”

  “Should I get you a glass of water?”

  Savannah shook her head. “I’ll be okay.”

  They sat quietly for a few more minutes.

  “Thanks, Nadine. Seriously. You were really nice to do that.”

  She smiled. “It’s a lot. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m good. Really good.” She took the letter back and looked again at its precision. “It’s funny. From his handwriting you’d expect him to sound like a professor—all business. But he’s not. He’s just normal.”

  “Seems like it.”

  They both looked up, hearing what sounded like a whiffling on the other side of the bedroom door.

  “I think Katherine Mansfield’s getting desperate for her walk,” Nadine said.

  “Go.” Savannah smiled. “I’ll stay here and read this eighty-seven more times.”

  Which she did. Or at least portions of it. At least long enough to delay the decision she had to make.

  Did she want to open the second letter, or not?

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know the story of how her mom and Jack met, because she did. Eventually. But she didn’t feel ready. Right now, it was enough to take in the fact they might have found him—their biodad. The guy Savannah had thought of in fictional terms her entire life.

  Until she could process the fact that he was real, flesh and blood and walking the earth, she knew she wasn’t prepared for her and Thomas’s origin story.

  Savannah lay down on her bed and tucked the second envelope under her pillow.

  It could stay there until she knew what to do.

  Forty-Three

  Jack

  Jack was finally packed up and ready to hit the road. He’d stuck around Tybee just long enough to tie up loose ends. Ford and Slush finalized the sale and Jack threw away everything but his cell phone, his tools and a couple of boxes of clothes he couldn’t justify getting rid of.

  His belongings didn’t even fill the bed of his truck.

  On his way out of town, he stopped at Janie’s to say goodbye.

  “This island is gonna miss you, Jack,” she said. “But if there’s any bunch of people who understand the need to sail on, it’s us.” She gave him a long hug.

  “Say goodbye to Coop for me, will you?” Jack said. “Whenever he’s done chasing hurricanes or floods or whatever.”

  “Will do.” She gave him one last squeeze. Then said, “Did you call the number I gave you?”

  “Yeah. Talked to him. It was wild.”

  Janie winked. “I bet it was.”

  He left Janie’s and pulled out onto the highway, past Fort Pulaski, over the causeway, into the marshes. One more bridge and he’d be within Savannah city limits. Off the island. On the mainland and on his way back to Colorado.

  At the last minute, he decided to make a final stop. He swerved onto the exit for the boat landing and pulled his truck into the parking lot.

  There were a few cars that likely belonged to tourists out on morning charters. The door to the guides’ shack was locked, and even the wind was low, blowing thin curls across the surface of the water.

  Jack walked one last time to the end of the dock and stood, watching an egret fishing at the edge of the marsh, its stick legs barely discernible among
the salt meadow and its white, swan-like body sitting atop a nest of green. It was just the two of them, the egret and Jack. The bird gave him barely a look before scooping its next bite from the water.

  Tybee hadn’t been perfect, but it had been good. His whole life, Jack and the water had managed to find a way to get along.

  Footsteps on the dock broke the quiet. Startled, Jack turned to look behind him.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be John Thorson, would you?”

  The man wore an inconspicuous outfit—jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. The expensive camera in his hand, however, was a dead giveaway.

  Aw, hell. If only he’d just kept driving, not stopped for a last farewell. “You know they call me Jack now, right?”

  “I do.” The man held up his camera and fired off a few clicks.

  “Didn’t see you in your car back there,” Jack said, jutting his chin back toward the lot. “How long you been waiting?”

  “Didn’t have to.” Camera guy fired off a few more clicks. “Just followed your truck out of town.”

  And to think Jack had been so careful these past few weeks, watching his rearview mirror, checking his tail. Today, though, his attention had been squarely focused on the road ahead. He considered where he stood now, the water on all sides, a guy with a camera between him and the land. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Well then, good work. You got me.”

  Again with the clicking camera shutter.

  “How would you like me?” Jack said. “Smiling? Angry? Putting up a fight?” He winked, showing the guy he planned to be a good sport. “Seeing as I’m pretty much cornered, like you said.”

  The guy let his camera answer for him. Click click click. Jack could tell he was working with an expensive kit. The lens itself probably cost more than Jack’s truck, and there was a rectangular digital screen on the back where he could get a sneak peek at the pictures.

  Jack said, “Hey, if you’re going to make money off of me, let me at least see a few of the shots.”

  Camera guy smiled, shaking his head. “Nah. I get too close, you’ll shove me into the water. Not happening.”

  Jack gave him an appreciative grin. “Hadn’t thought of that, but good for you. Playing it safe.” He let the guy fire off a few more shots. “How much you figure you’ll get for these pictures, anyway?”