JFK would rather go into a fully-involved house fire with no turnouts than take on this spunky girl. He nodded again.
Clover nodded back. “Okay then. You’re not going to like this next part. Everyone knows Justice has a stick up his butt. Mercy hurt him as much as she hurt anyone back in her bad days, and he still holds a grudge.”
“What does he have to do with any of this? Why can’t we just avoid that guy for the rest of our lives?”
“Trust me,” said Clover, sitting back confidently and pulling both of her daughters in tight.
“I’m not going to publicly kiss his feet or anything.”
“Oh no,” agreed Clover. “I’ve got a much better idea.”
Her wicked smile made JFK wonder if he’d gotten himself in above his head.
Chapter
JFK left Clover’s house and drove straight toward the Cornerstone Office Complex. If he didn’t do it now, he might never be able to find enough courage to do it. It was only ten minutes away, but JFK wished it was much further than that.
“Mercy’s worth it,” he told himself as he pulled open the door of the four-story office building and stepped inside. He’d gone to church for her. Learned freaking manners for her. Even sold his home brewery after those bad jokes about taking the recovering alcoholic out for a drink. A month before, he would have sworn he’d sell a kidney first.
Fluorescent lighting immediately began sucking his soul away. He decided to make it quick. The bulletin board in the lobby said that Summit Actuarial Consulting was just down the hall. Just perfect. JFK couldn’t even waste more time looking for the elevator or dragging himself up the stairs.
After taking a deep breath, JFK walked into Summit Actuarial Consulting. If the lobby had been soul-draining, this place was enough to send him into a permanent depressive state. It was times like this as much as it was good days at work that made him thankful for his job.
In a nasally voice, the receptionist asked, “May I help you?”
“Yeah, is Justice McGovern in?”
The middle-aged woman looked over her glasses at JFK’s work clothes and asked, “Do you have an appointment with Mr. McGovern?”
Lying might be the easiest way to get in, unless she called his bluff, then it would just start everything out on the wrong foot. “No.”
“And this would be regarding …?” This woman was a professional eyebrow manipulator and she raised one eyebrow to an impressive height.
JFK felt like he was back in elementary school and the librarian had busted him for making his friend Chance crack up by showing him ‘fart’ in the dictionary. “Tell him … I’ve come to make peace with the Jewells?”
“The jewels?”
“Yes. The Jewells.”
“Hm.” The receptionist’s mouth pinched up. “And who should I say is here to see him.”
“JFK.”
“JFK?” One eyebrow went up.
“Yes. JFK.” He stepped away from the desk and from the fifth degree and tried to ignore the receptionist as she lifted the phone to her ear and cupped the mouthpiece to keep her conversation private. Who knew the hardest part of this day would be making it past a stern gatekeeper? The magazines on the rack in the waiting area were as boring as the rest of the office. Money, Kiplinger’s, and Coin World. There was actually a magazine called The Actuary. JFK would rather have bamboo shoots shoved into his nail beds.
“Mr. McGovern will see you.” The receptionist gave him another disapproving look. “His office is the first on the right.”
“Thank you,” muttered JFK and walked past her desk.
In the main area of the office were half a dozen cubicles surrounded by small offices. At least Justice wasn’t subjected to death by cubicle on a daily basis. Then again, with this alien group, the cubicles were probably sought after real estate.
The door to Justice’s office was ajar. JFK pushed it open to see Justice sitting behind a desk, staring questioningly at the door. He said, “I wondered if it was you. But I couldn’t conceive of any reason you would have to come here.”
You’re not here to fight, JFK reminded himself. But he also wasn’t there to crawl. “I’m uncouth and I don’t know about church things. But knowing your sister and hearing what the priest said—” he purposefully avoided saying pastor even though he knew what it was, “—I think going back might be good for me.” JFK paused before going on with the next part of the rehearsed speech. “I never thought I could change. Mercy has opened my eyes.”
Justice studied him like he would do with a spreadsheet with scrambled numbers.
JFK went on with what he had planned. “I know you don’t believe she’s really changed and you probably don’t even think people can change—”
Justice put a hand up to stop him. In a precise voice, he said, “If I may. I realize I could have been more Christlike in the way I’ve treated Mercy. Even in her steps,” he air-quoted and rolled his eyes ever so slightly, “it says she has to make restitution. I deal in probabilities, and proving that she is trustworthy takes time to establish a preponderance of evidence.”
Yeah, he really just said preponderance of evidence. This guy would be tons of fun at a party. JFK could tell he wasn’t done talking. “There is also the issue of attempting to undo what she’s done and transform that into a good example. My grandparents have 49 offspring. She lied to and about a lot of them. She deceived them all. And she stole money or anything she could sell from people who trusted her, despite their better judgment—people trying to be good Christians and help her out.”
“I don’t want to hear it from you,” said JFK, then realized it sounded harsher than he intended. “I’m not doubting it happened, but those aren’t your secrets to tell. Tell me what she did to you personally if you want, but I didn’t come here to gossip.” That was the absolute gentlest he could be at the moment.
“That’s fair,” said Justice after a moment. “I was a senior in high school and I had scrimped and saved to get myself started in college. She came to me the day before her own tuition was due, in tears, swearing she had sobered up and was a new woman and hadn’t had a drink in months. Had the AA coin to prove it. She painted a sob story that would have made a rock weep, and begged me to lend her one thousand dollars. If she didn’t get it within twenty-four hours she’d be kicked out of school and since she’d already been on academic probation there was no chance she’d get accepted again. Like a dummy, I believed her and gave her a thousand dollars cash.”
Justice was staring at JFK’s eyes, but he was far away and the silence stretched for a while. On some unseen cue, his gaze sharpened, focused in on JFK. “I was naïve and stupid, but she was …,” Justice paused, collecting his thoughts, “…what she did was unforgivable. Or at least I haven’t learned how to let it go yet. Maybe someday.”
JFK considered all that. Justice was allowed to have an opinion. And he did say he’d try to be more like Jesus. That had to be a good thing, right? “So, can she go to your church now?”
“It’s not my church. But I have decided to stop chastising her in public.”
That was probably as good as JFK could hope, especially since he hadn’t even gotten around to asking Justice to do anything.
“What about you and me?” asked Justice.
“I know we don’t like each other, but,” JFK swallowed his pride and got ready to lie for the sake of peace in the Jewell family, “I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us.” Even after agreeing to Clover’s little plan, JFK still hadn’t found it in his heart to forgive Justice.
In a tone devoid of emotion, Justice said, “The one time we met you called me a hypocrite in front of my entire congregation. It’s difficult to put that behind me and act as if it never happened. In fact, based on the data, there is a high likelihood similar incidents will occur in the future since every encounter you and I have shared has resulted in conflict.”
“There’s this encounter,” said JFK spreading his hands. He was st
ill standing in the center of the small office since he hadn’t been offered a chair.
“This encounter still isn’t over.”
JFK resisted the urge to point out that an actuary should be able to take into consideration the small sample size, and instead picked up somewhere in the vicinity of where his speech had stopped. “It was wrong to blow up like that.” Don’t make excuses, don’t say, ‘but’. “I apologize. I can see that you take the roll of older brother to eight siblings very seriously, and of course you have the right to your opinion. And it’s big of you to decide to treat Mercy better.”
Justice gave one small nod in acknowledgement. “And what exactly are your intentions with my sister?”
“Uh-uh,” said JFK. “If she allows me to intend anything with her that’s not between you and me.” At least one thing Dom had taught him stuck—the silly thing about asking a girl’s father if he could marry her before asking the girl herself, because what was this, the 1700s?—but JFK still didn’t see any way a relationship with Mercy would progress to the point where Daddy McGovern would get involved.
“Fair enough,” stated Justice. “If there is nothing else, I need to get back to my analysis of risk of insurance claims due to brawls in churches.”
“Wait,” said JFK. “Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”
Justice’s lips clenched in an attempt to hide a smile.
“Good job, bro!” JFK put out a fist and Justice bumped it. “Now, you and I are as good as we’re going to get, but there’s the issue of making nice for the family.”
The hint of a smile disappeared. Justice was all business again. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
“I have an idea,” said JFK. “Actually, it’s Clover’s idea.”
“Then there is a likelihood it doesn’t include anything illegal or immoral.”
JFK pointed at him. “I like it. That’s two jokes in one conversation. You need to be careful or people will stop taking you seriously. Now, here’s what we have in mind.”
Ten minutes later, JFK stopped at the front desk on his way out. He knew how Uber worked and he didn’t need any help, but he wanted to have a little more fun. He asked the receptionist, “Excuse me, could you help me out?”
The woman leaned slightly away in a suspicious manner.
“With what do you need assistance?”
“Would you mind calling me an Uber?”
“An Uber?”
“Yes, an Uber.”
The woman turned dismissively toward her computer screen. “I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. I can’t help you.”
JFK tipped an imaginary hat and with a smile on his face, left the actuarial nerds to their numbers and probabilities. He was still shocked Justice had agreed.
Apparently that little elf Clover knew what she was doing.
Chapter
JFK waited backstage of the annual Jewell family talent show. Really, backstage was just an adjoining room of the small indoor auditorium at the mountain cabin complex. One of the uncles—JFK couldn’t remember the name Clover had mentioned, but it started with the letter D—was singing a Weird Al Yankovic song. Before that two tweens had done a tap routine. The third act would be one that might be talked about for a very long time.
The very success of the skit depended on everyone in the family knowing about the incident in church between Justice and JFK. Or in other words, knowing what a hothead idiot JFK was, because they all already knew Justice had a stick up his butt.
In the two days since Clover had planned this, and Justice had agreed to it, JFK had wondered about a thousand times whether Clover really knew what she was doing. Sure she was considered a relationship expert in the family, but that didn’t mean she actually knew what she was doing or had any experience other than some vague involvement in Emily and Dom’s amazing love story.
Clover swore up and down that this skit was exactly what was needed, but to JFK it seemed more likely for this to blow up in his face and just make the entire family remember what an idiot he was. Not to mention embarrass him in front of Mercy, which was the opposite of what he wanted now that he wasn’t trying to sabotage his chances with her.
The uncle finished singing and JFK felt his pulse race. He looked over at Justice who wore a collared shirt with a tie and slacks. JFK wore his lucky Broncos jersey, and hoped the blasphemy he was about to commit against his team didn’t ruin the good juju of the jersey.
Justice raised his eyebrows in question and JFK nodded, acknowledging his readiness and willingness.
From the auditorium stage, the emcee said, “Great job, Uncle D! Let’s give him another big round of applause.” The audience hooted and hollered. “Next up: Clover, Justice, and … a special guest have a skit for our viewing pleasure. Give them a warm Jewell welcome!”
Clover gave them both an excited thumbs up, then walked out onto the stage, dragging three chairs with her. After ten seconds, Justice walked out. JFK counted to three and ran out yelling, “Taxi!”
At about the same time, Justice called for a cab as well. Clover, who was sitting in the front seat of the improvised taxi, mimed pulling over to the curb and both men stepped up to the invisible cab door.
Their eyes met, and each suspiciously and judgmentally examined the other—JFK in his Broncos jersey and Justice in his tie.
“Let me guess,” said Justice, “the … football stadium.” He said it as if he was licking a stadium urinal.
“Yep,” said JFK. “You heading downtown?”
Justice reluctantly nodded.
“Share?” They said at the same time. Then, “Share.” They both climbed into the waiting seats of the cab.
“My name’s Justice.”
“JFK.”
Introductions out of the way, they both pointedly ignored the other, looking out the window. A low buzz rolled over the hundred or so people sitting in the auditorium seats. Trying to be discreet, JFK lightly scanned the crowd for Mercy, but didn’t spot her right off. He did notice many of the Jewells leaning casually and whispering in someone else’s ear while keeping their eyes on JFK. Many of the people being whispered to shifted their eyes to JFK.
Oh yes, if he wasn’t well-known in the family this morning, he would be by the time this skit ended.
Out of the corner of his eye, JFK saw Clover making movements for the crowd. According to the script, she would be showing them two water bottles labeled, Truth Serum, then slipping generic water bottle labels over that.
“Water bottle?” she asked over her shoulder.
JFK said, “Sure,” and Justice answered, “Yes.”
They both accepted a bottle and JFK pretended to remove the lid and take a swig.
As JFK lifted the empty bottle to his mouth and faked drinking, he caught Mercy’s eye. She was sitting in a back corner next to Dom and Emily. It was hard to describe the look on Mercy’s face; the only thing he could say was it looked … alive. She was happy and also appeared curious.
He always thought he’d known how attractive she was, but every time he saw her, his expectations proved dramatically insufficient. What was he thinking even trying for a girl like her?
Emily shifted on her seat and drew JFK’s attention. She was even more curious than Mercy and looked ready to mock him to no end if he gave her any ammunition at all. It seemed to JFK as if she was telling him telepathically, Don’t sabotage yourself. You’re good enough.
“So you’re a Broncos fan?” Justice delivered the line while JFK still had the bottle to his mouth. JFK had been so distracted by Mercy that he’d been drinking way longer than the skit called for.
What was his line again? What had Justice asked? Oh yeah. The Broncos. Time to go into actor mode. The tough part would be trying to not sound sarcastic. In as flat a voice as he could manage, he said, “Nah. I just want my buddies at the fire station to think I’m cool so I waste hours and hours every week watching football. And as if that wasn’t bad enough
, I pay way too much for overpriced, scratchy jerseys that chafe the tender skin on the insides of my forearms. ”
“Football is the gladiator’s arena of the modern age,” replied Justice. “It’s barbaric and pointless.”
JFK didn’t think Justice needed to drink truth serum to deliver that line. “Unless you consider giving the fans a chance to beat their chests like apes, a valid point, I agree.” What was he saying? People here would hold his words against him for years. A few people in the crowd chuckled, but overall they weren’t fully in on the joke yet. There was nowhere to go but onward. “What’s that magazine?”
Justice pulled a folded magazine out from under his arm. “The Actuary.”
“Isn’t that insurance stuff about using long formulas to guess how long someone will live or what the chances are of a sixteen-year old wrecking daddy’s car?”
“Basically. I only use it as an insomnia cure,” said Justice with a straight face. JFK knew Justice loved the nerd numbers stuff, but Justice actually pulled the line off.
“It’s the middle of the day,” said JFK. “Why are you carrying it around?”
Justice looked at the magazine and said, “Oh, this one’s just a front.” He slipped the cover of The Actuary away, revealing an obviously fake cover that read Artsy Fartsy Magazine.
The audience cracked up, finally getting in on the gag.
With the faintest sneer, JFK said, “You like pointless art cinema films about nothing?”
“Love them,” said Justice.
JFK paused, maintaining the sneer as Clover had told him to do when they’d rehearsed. If Clover knew what she was doing, her family members were hanging on his response. It was the turning point of the skit where it would go from silly to completely absurd.
Transitioning to an excited smile, JFK said, “Me too!” As predicted the audience cracked up, but more importantly, Mercy was laughing harder than any of them. “Black and white films?”
“Yeah!” said Justice, as excited as JFK had ever seen him. “Why have color in movies just because the technology makes it so easy? What about dialogue? How do you feel about characters just saying what they’re thinking?”
Rescue and Redemption: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 13