Boardwalk Summer

by Kimberly Fisk

  She went back into the house and shut the door. Susan was waiting. Hope looked at her coat and then to the phone. For sixteen years she had taken care of her children all by herself, and her first instinct was to do that again tonight. But what if she did leave and Joshua called? Indecision sliced through her. She wanted to be out there, searching. But she knew she needed to be here, too, just in case. She needed to be two people.

  Two people.

  She wasn’t in this alone anymore. Tonight hadn’t been just about telling the twins Nick was their father, it had been about her finally accepting that he was their father. Why hadn’t she called him already?

  Frantically, she swiped through her list of contacts on her cell and called Nick.

  “What are you doing?” Susan asked, coming up behind her.

  “I’m calling your father.”

  “You’re what?”

  “You heard me.” She turned and looked at her daughter, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. “I’m calling Nick. I need help.”

  “What about Dana?”

  “She won’t be home for hours yet.”

  “I can go look,” Susan said softly.

  Hope wrapped her free arm around her daughter. “I know you can, honey. But without a driver’s license, you wouldn’t get very far.” She gave her daughter a reassuring smile and waited, tapping her foot as the phone rang once, twice, three times, then four. Hope put the phone on speaker so both of them could hear.

  Nick finally answered. “Hello?”

  At the sound of his voice, the bravado of strength she’d been clinging to since the hospital called abandoned her. Her voice wobbled and a lump formed in her throat. “Nick, it’s Hope.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Is Joshua with you?”

  “No. Of course not. Why—Hope, what’s wrong?”

  “He’s run away from the hospital.”

  There was a slight delay and a noise crackled through the lines. His voice, sounding distant and scratchy, finally came through. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The line went dead.

  Susan stayed by her side, and for several moments, they didn’t move. The refrigerator hummed in the background and the clock that hung above the door leading out to the garage ticked away. After a while, Susan stepped back and gave Hope a questioning glance. “What was all that noise on his phone?”

  “I think it was his plane.”

  “His plane?”

  Hope nodded.

  “And he’s turning around and coming back?”

  “Yeah,” Hope said. “I think he is.”

  * * *

  RAIN fell in fat, persistent drops, giving the sky a dark and dismal look. Nick flicked on the rental car’s wipers and scowled out the window. Only in Washington would it rain in July.

  He kept his eyes trained on the dark street and tried to remember if Joshua had had any warm clothes with him. But he didn’t know. Hell, he didn’t know most everything about his children.

  He exited the airport and turned left. The miles flew past; he kept his foot pressed on the gas, not caring that he was speeding. The streets were deserted and with the free road, he flew.

  Goddammit! This was his fault. He should never have pushed Hope to tell the kids who he was. He should have just played along, kept pretending he was only a friend. Even when they thought he was from the Make-A-Wish Foundation, he could have explained that away. No one had been more surprised than he was when Hope had told their children who he was.

  He silently swore once more and pushed a hand through his hair. God, the look in Joshua’s eyes had been enough to rip his heart out.

  The miles sped past. In less time than he would have thought possible, he was nearing the small town of Tranquility. Streetlamps bordered the narrow road, their ethereal light filtering down into the damp, dreary night. For the first time he noticed the reader board at the grocery store. Get Well Joshua! And as he turned onto Hope’s street, he noticed the balloons tied to the stop sign, with a large sign: We ♥ U Josh! Nick felt a lump in his throat. This little town—the town he’d so quickly and wrongly stamped with his own prejudices—was full of heart for his son. The realization shamed Nick; he’d judged before knowing. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  Hope’s house was lit up like the Fourth of July. Every outside light was on, and from the bright glow that came from each of the windows, it looked as if all of the interior lights were on as well. It was as if Hope were trying to light the way home for their son.

  The car jerked to a stop and Nick barely took the time to kill the engine before he raced up to the front door. He took the porch steps two at a time and was just about to knock when the door was flung open.

  “Nick,” Hope said, her voice throaty as if she’d been crying. Her face was pale, and standing there she looked so alone, so small and fragile.

  “Have you heard anything?” Nick asked, taking her in his arms.

  She shook her head, her cheek brushing against his chest. “No. And the p-police . . .” She stumbled over the word, drew in a deep breath. “The police told me to stay here in case Joshua called or came home. But it’s so hard to just wait.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We’ll find him.”

  As if she’d just realized where she was, she stepped out of his embrace. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Stop thanking me. He’s my son, too.”

  She stared at him for several moments. Then, finally, she said, “Yes, he is.”

  She stepped back into the house and gestured for him to follow.

  Warm air hit him and he once again thought of his son out there in the cold. Nick felt antsy. He didn’t want to go into the house, he wanted to be out looking for Josh. He took one look at Hope’s face and knew she felt exactly the same way.

  Nick looked around. “Where’s Susan?”

  “My friend Dana showed up and she and Susan are out looking for Josh. The police are also looking, concentrating their efforts mainly in Seattle, near the hospital, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t think he’s in Seattle. I think he’d come here. Come home. But he didn’t, did he?” She looked up at him, huge pools of tears gathering in her eyes. “He didn’t come h-home.”

  Staring into her heartbroken eyes, Nick felt so damn helpless. He gathered her in his arms.

  For a moment she let herself be held. Then, sniffling, she pulled back. Put distance between them.

  He dug the keys out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing them to her. “Take my car and go look, you know it’s what you want to do. I can stay here.”

  She stared down at the keys, weighed them in her hand. “I want to,” she said softly as she looked up at him. “God, how I want to, but I should be the one who’s here in case he calls or comes home.”

  “Then tell me where his friends live, where he likes to hang out.”

  “How would you find them? You don’t know this town. Besides, Susan and Dana and the police are checking there.”

  “Hope, I go to a new city each week and manage to find my way around. Just tell me where he might be.”

  * * *

  OVER three hours later, Nick’s worry had grown tenfold. He’d gone to every place Hope had written down, questioned all of Joshua’s friends and anyone else that Nick saw or woke up with his door pounding, but so far, nothing. Every fifteen minutes, he called Hope to check in, even though he knew his call was unnecessary. She’d call him if she heard any news. So far, nothing. No one had seen or heard from Joshua.

  Once more, Nick made his way down Main Street. He’d covered this area already, but right now he was grasping at straws. Rolling down the window, he let off on the gas and let the car slow to a crawl. Through the opened window, he scanned the storefronts, alleys, and side roads, praying for a miracle. He ca
lled out Joshua’s name and then listened, hoping to hear a reply. But all he heard was the gentle lapping of the water as it hit the nearby beach and then flowed back out into the bay.

  Tranquility Inn came up on his right and he braked to a stop. Earlier he’d gone in and talked to the night staff. He’d gotten the same answer from them that he’d gotten from everyone else: no one had seen or heard from Joshua, but they were looking and praying.

  At this late hour, the place looked deserted. There was no movement inside and the lights had been dimmed.

  Nick eased his foot off the brake and let the car roll forward. Ahead, on his left, was the boardwalk. It was where he had been when he’d first learned of Joshua’s leukemia. That conversation seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Nick pulled into the small parking lot and cut the engine. The bay was so close he could smell the salt in the air and hear the shallow waves. He remembered Hope telling him about the time when the twins were young and had colic. How she’d bundled them up and put them in their stroller and brought them down to the head of the bay to stroll along the boardwalk. The walk and the water had soon soothed them into a peaceful sleep. It had become one of their favorite spots, she’d said.

  One of our favorite spots.

  With a sense of urgency, Nick got out of the car and made his way to the boardwalk. Water pushed against the solid beams and brushed against the underside. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way down the walk when he saw him.

  Huddled against the railing, Joshua stood, a dark shadow against the black night.

  “Joshua,” Nick called out.

  Joshua turned toward him, his pale face bright in the darkness. “Go away.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Get back in your car and drive away. Pretend you never saw me.”

  Nick walked closer, then stopped when Joshua took a step back. His son looked tired and in pain. His shoulders were rigid, and perspiration dotted his forehead and trickled down the side of his face. Nick wanted to rush forward and grab him, hold him, but he knew Joshua would only try to break free and run. Possibly hurt himself even further. “Everyone’s worried about you, especially your mother. Why don’t you come back with me? We can go and get your mom and then head to the hospital.”

  “The hospital.” Joshua’s voice was flat, emotionless. “I’m not going back there.”

  The rain had eased up. A light mist was all that was left.

  “Then where are you going?”

  Joshua stared out across the water, scuffing his foot across the boards. His shoes looked to be at least two sizes too big, as were the clothes he was wearing; Nick didn’t want to even think about where his son had dug them up—more than likely, dug them out of.

  “Anywhere but here. Some place where I won’t cause so many problems,” Josh said at last.

  “Joshua,” Nick said stiffly, emotion clogging his throat. “You don’t cause problems.”

  “Yeah?” Josh spat the word at him. “What would you know? The only reason you’re around now is because I’m gonna die.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then where the hell have you been?”

  “I’m here now,” Nick said with conviction. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Joshua stared at him for several long moments. “One of the nurses let it slip that you were tested to see if you’re a match, but you’re not.”

  Nick swallowed hard. “No, I’m not. But that doesn’t mean they won’t find someone very soon who is.”

  Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you lie to me, too. I see the truth every day in the nurses and Dr. P. They know my number’s up. And Mom . . . jeez.” He kicked hard at the bottom rail. “I don’t want her to have to worry anymore.”

  What did he say to that? “Your mother will worry no matter what. It’s her job.”

  Joshua’s grip tightened on the weathered handrail. “Maybe . . . maybe it would be better if I just ended it now.”

  Nick felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Don’t say that.” He swallowed hard, knew he hadn’t said the right thing, but what was the correct response? He didn’t have any experience with this. With kids. He drew in a breath, thought about a dumb ad he’d done where the slogan was Just Do It. Because, right now, Nick was the only one here, the only one Josh had, and Nick had to just do something.

  Slowly, he walked forward and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. Joshua was ice cold. Nick shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around Joshua’s shoulders, holding it on him, trying to lock in as much heat as he could.

  Josh bowed his head, blew out a shaky breath. “Do you know what happens in a couple of months?”

  “No.”

  “It’s my birthday. Last year, when I turned fifteen, all I wanted was to be sixteen. You know? Have a driver’s license, hopefully get a car one day. Maybe then I could take Belinda out . . .”

  “Belinda your girl?”

  “Yeah. No. I mean she was. But now . . . My stuff is just too real to deal, ya know? She hooked up with my best friend, Denny. Well, he’s not my best friend anymore.”

  “After a shit move like that, I’d sure as hell think not.”

  A small smile crept across Joshua’s face, and then it was gone. “Life’s just too hard.”

  When Nick had first started looking for his son, he’d naïvely thought finding Josh was going to be the tough part. Now, he saw how wrong he’d been. Inside, he was crying for all of the pain and heartache Joshua had gone through. He wanted to make it right; he wanted to take it away. He knew he could easily steer his son’s weakened body to the car and force him back to the hospital. But that would be the easy way out, the quick fix.

  Children come first.

  He remembered Hope’s words, understood them fully for the first time. He drew in a deep breath and tried to help his son make sense of this senseless disease. “Life is hard. And you’ve been dealt a hell of a hand, Josh. I don’t know many men who could have coped as well as you have. If I could change places with you, I’d do it in an instant. I’d give anything to free you from this.” He swallowed hard, tried to regain his composure. “But I can’t. I don’t know why this has had to happen to you, but it has and somehow you’ve got to find a little more strength to finish this battle. And while I don’t know the whys, I can tell you this: it’s during these times, when we think we can’t go on, but we do, we find out just who we are and what we’re made of. You are an amazing man, Joshua, with an amazing future.”

  “How would you know?”

  Nothing in Nick’s life compared to what his son was going through, but maybe there was something he could say that would help. “Eight years ago I crashed during a race. The doctors said I’d probably never walk again, let alone race. But I did. We Fortunes are stubborn that way—it takes more than a bad diagnosis to level us.” He looked down at his son. “Not only was I back next season, I won the championship that year.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” Josh said.

  “Didn’t mean what?”

  Josh kicked at a rock on the boardwalk and sent it sailing off into the water. “At the hospital. When I yelled at you. I didn’t mean it. I was just mad.”

  The lump in Nick’s throat doubled in size.

  Joshua tilted his face toward Nick. “I’m . . . I’m glad you’re here now.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here now too.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  Joshua tipped his ball cap back on his head and scratched. “My hair—or what’s left of it—is driving me crazy. It itches, ya know? And Mom, every time more of it falls out, she gets all sad. I was wondering . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I was kinda hoping that you could shave my head.” Joshua looked at him again, and his blue eyes that reminded Nick so
much of his own were filled with uncertainty and a tentative hopefulness.

  “Yeah,” Nick said, so overcome with emotion he could barely form the words. “I can do that.”

  “Thanks.”

  They stood next to each other and gazed out at the water. The tide lapped at the beach and a few cars rolled by.

  “Joshua?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t give up. Great moments are waiting for you.”

  “Was winning that championship your greatest moment?”

  “No.” This time the emotion broke free and trembled his words. “My greatest moment happened when I met you and your sister for the first time.”

  Twenty-one

  IN the hallway outside, the hospital was stirring awake. Muted voices drifted through the closed door as night nurses prepared to leave and the day shift arrived. Every so often, a clang and a bang could be heard as custodians emptied the garbage cans. The steady drone of a floor cleaner moved down the hall. But inside Joshua’s room, all was quiet.

  Hope stared down at her sleeping son. One tear and then another trailed down her cheek. She’d thought she’d used up her store of tears, but she’d been wrong. She could hardly take her eyes off him, afraid that if she did, he’d disappear once more. Even now, so many hours after Nick had called to tell her that he’d found Joshua, the intense relief she’d felt was still with her.

  After Nick’s call, he’d driven Joshua back to the house. While Dana had stayed behind with a tired Susan, Nick had driven the three of them back to the hospital. The moment they pulled up to the emergency entrance, a whirlwind of activity had ensued. Joshua had been wheeled back to his room, where the doctor and nurses had examined him. They replaced his IV and catheter that he’d ripped out before he’d fled. He’d developed a low-grade fever that they believed was caused by an infection. They administered antibiotics at once. And through this, Joshua silently endured it all, even though it was clear to see he was exhausted and in pain.

  Hope turned to the man standing next to her. “I know you don’t like it when I say thank you, but thank you,” she said in a throaty whisper. “Thank you for bringing our son back.”