Repairman Jack [07]-Gateways (36 page)

“Are you in some sort of trouble, Jack? Because if you are, maybe I can help.”

Jack laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “Trouble? No, not me. But someone I know might be in a little.”

“What kind?”

Jack knew he’d been acting strange—at least in his father’s eyes—but he wasn’t used to all these questions, or having his comings and goings noted and commented on.

This is why I live alone.

“You might say it’s a kind of family thing.”

“Do those toys have anything to do with it?”

“It might come down to that.”

Dad sighed and dropped into his recliner. “You are the hardest person to talk to, Jack. You were a great kid, but now you’re a stranger. It’s like you don’t want to know me or me to know you. You’ve got this wall around you. Is that my fault? Did I do something…?”

This was painful. Jack could see the hurt in his father’s troubled eyes.

“Absolutely not. It’s me. It’s just the way I am.”

“But it’s not the way you were.”

Jack shrugged. “People change. You must know that.”

“No. I don’t. Most people don’t change. Kate didn’t change. And Tom didn’t—although it might not be such a bad thing if he had. But you—you’re a completely different person.”

Jack could only shrug again. He wanted off this uncomfortable topic.

“Enough about me. How about you, Dad? How are you getting on down here?”

His father gave him a long, baffled stare, then shook his head.

“Me? I guess I’m doing pretty well. I like the climate enough, but…”

“But?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think I made a mistake moving down here. Sometimes I wonder why I ever left Jersey.”

“I’d wondered the same thing. So did Kate.”

“I’ve never been the impulsive sort, but this was an impulse. A Gateways South brochure came in the mail one day and that was it. I took one look and had to be here. The graduated care aspect and the idea of never being a burden appealed to me…appealed to me so much it became an obsession that took hold and wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t get it out of my head that this was the place for me. I sold the old house and reinvested some of the money in this place and…” He spread his hands. “Here I am.”

“From what Anya told me while you were in your coma, it sounds as if you’ve gotten into the swing of things down here.”

“I have. I’ve had to. I had it in my head that Kate and Tom would jump at the chance to gather up the grandkids and come down to Florida to visit. But only Kate did that. And only once. Everyone’s so busy these days. So I made a choice: I can sit before the TV and ossify, or get up and about and do things while I still can. I figure I’d rather be a moving target than a stationary one.”

Target, Jack thought. Helluva word choice, Dad. If you only knew…

Dad was shaking his head. “But as nice as it is, I still can’t believe I sold the family home and left my kids and grandkids up north to move down here. I know not being a burden was a big part of it, but really…what was I thinking?”

Something in the words sent a chill through Jack. His father had done something he didn’t quite understand…developed a compulsion to move down here, to this particular development, right outside the Everglades, close to the lagoon where Semelee and her clan lived…

…close to a nexus point.

Hadn’t Carl told him that he’d developed a yearning—an “ache,” as he put it—to get back to the place where he’d been born, back to the lagoon…?

Back to that same nexus point.

Coincidence?

He’d been told there’d be no more coincidences in his life.

Was someone or some
thing
moving pieces around the board—Jack’s board?

But wait…Anya had said she’d done part time work addressing brochures. Had she sent one to his father? Had she influenced him to come down here? So she could—what?—protect him?

Jack’s head spun. One thing he knew was he wanted his father out of here, out of Gateways, out of the whole damn state.

“Nothing says you can’t go back. In fact, I think you should. I’m sure Jersey’s got a load of graduated care places, if that’s what you want.”

Dad stood silent a moment, then, “I don’t know. I’d feel like an old fool.”

“Which is more foolish: admitting you made a mistake and rectifying it, or hanging around a place you don’t like?”

“When you put it that way…” He shook his head. “I’ll have to think about it.” He clapped his hands. “But no matter what I decide, we have to eat tonight. I’ll run out and get eggs and cheese and some ham. I make a mean omelet. How’s that sound for dinner?”

“Perfect.”

With a pang of reluctance, Jack gave him the keys to his rental. He had an urge to go with him, to not let him out on his own unprotected, but Semelee had said he wasn’t a target, and he believed her. She’d had Jack at her mercy—outnumbered and outgunned—when she’d said it, so she’d had no reason to lie.

11

As soon as he was alone, Jack pulled out the toys. He inspected them for repaired seams, found one on each, and slit it open. He removed the sundry weapons Abe had sent him and, armed with a screwdriver and an adjustable wrench, hid them around the house.

Then he called Gia. She and Vicky and the baby were doing fine.

“When are you coming home, Jack?” Vicky asked. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Vicks, and I’ll be home as soon as I can. As soon as I know my dad’s okay.”

He seemed okay now, but it would take a little doing to make sure he stayed that way.

Still no word from the clan. Jack stepped outside and looked around. The sun lay low over the Everglades, brushing the fringe of the far-off hardwood hummock. He wondered if that was the same hummock that housed the lagoon and his nexus point. If so, he might see these mysterious lights tonight.

“I’ve got your damn shell!” he shouted into the fading light. “Let’s do this!”

Then he waited, not really expecting anything, but hoping. After a moment of listening to frogs and crickets, he turned to go back inside. He noticed a light on at Anya’s. Maybe she’d like to come over for dinner.

His knocks went unanswered, even by Oyv, so Jack stepped around to the side window. There he saw her and Oyv sleeping in front of the TV, in the same positions they’d been in Wednesday night. Again, they looked dead. But he kept watching until he caught Anya taking a breath.

He was halfway back to the house when he saw his rental car pull into the parking area. He angled that way and arrived in time to carry a couple of the grocery sacks.

“I picked up some scallions,” Dad said as they were unpacking. “I figured that would add a little extra flavor.”

“You’ve become a regular Chef Boyardee.”

“Had to learn
some
cooking. When you live alone, you can get awful tired of frozen dinners and fast food. And it gives me something to do at night.” He looked at Jack. “Nights are always the hardest.”

Jack wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to tell him he was sorry about that but sensed his father wasn’t looking for pity. He’d merely been stating a fact.

So Jack ducked it. “Hey, want me to slice those scallions?”

“Sure,” Dad said with a grin. “Think you can slice them nice and fine?”

He washed them off, then handed Jack a slim knife and a cutting board. Jack positioned himself on the other side of the counter and began slicing.

“Hey,” Dad said. “You’re pretty handy with that blade.”

“I’m a super sous chef.” He’d picked up a lot from helping Gia cook.

“While you’re doing that, I’ll open this bottle of Chardonnay I’ve had in the fridge. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Omelets are a special occasion?”

“Company is a special occasion, especially when it’s one of my sons.”

Jack realized then with a pang how lonely his father was.

“Can I ask you something, Dad?”

“Sure.” He’d pulled a pale bottle from the refrigerator and was twisting a corkscrew into its top. “Go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you ever remarry?”

“Good question. Kate always asked me that, always encouraged me to get into a new relationship. But…” He grabbed two glasses and half filled them. “There’s more where this came from, by the way.”

Jack got the feeling he was trying to stall, or maybe even evade an answer. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“You were saying about not remarrying?”

He sighed. “Having your mother taken away like that—one moment she’s sitting next to me in the car, next moment there’s blood all over her and no one can save her. She’s…gone. You were there. You knew what it was like.”

Jack nodded. His knife picked up speed, slicing the scallions faster, harder, thinner.

Dad shook his head. “I never got over it. Your mother was special, Jack. We were a team. We did everything together. The bond was more than love, it was…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it. ‘Soul mate’ is such a hackneyed term, but that pretty well describes what she was to me.”

He pulled a carving knife from a drawer and started dicing the thick slice of cured ham he’d bought.

“And let me tell you, Jack, the grief over losing someone that close to you, it doesn’t just go away, you know. At least it didn’t for me. Something like that happens and people pepper you with all sorts of platitudes—it got to the point where I wanted to punch out the next person who said, ‘She’s in a better place.’ I almost committed murder on that one. Then there was, ‘At least you had her for a little while.’ I didn’t want her for a little while. I wanted her forever.”

Jack was moved by the depth of his feeling. This was a side his father kept hidden.

“If I can use an equally hackneyed phrase: She wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone.”

“I haven’t been completely alone. I’ve allowed myself short-term relationships, and I’ve taken comfort in them. But a long-term relationship…that would be like telling your mother she can be replaced. And she can’t.”

Heavy going here. Jack tossed off the rest of his wine and poured them both some more, all the while trying to think of an adequate response.

His Dad saved him by pointing the carving knife at Jack’s chest.

“Your mother,” he said. “That’s it, isn’t it. I’ve always suspected that it made you a little crazy, but now I want to hear it from you. I remember you at the wake and the funeral. Like a zombie, hardly speaking to anyone. You were never a momma’s boy. Far from it. You were closest to Kate. But to see your mother killed by violence, to have her bleeding and dying in your arms…there’s no shame in having a breakdown after what happened. No one should have to go through that. No one.”

Jack gulped more of his wine. He could feel it hitting him. He’d had nothing to eat since breakfast and the alcohol was jumping directly into his bloodstream. So what? And why not?

“I agree that no one should have to go through that. But it wasn’t Mom’s death that put me on the road.”

“What then? It’s driven me crazy for the past fifteen years. What made you disappear?”

“Not her death. Another death.”

“Whose?”

“I was pissed at everyone back then for not finding the guy who’d dropped that cinder block. The state cops were going on about keeping an eye on the overpasses, but it takes a lot of effort to track down someone who commits a random act of violence. And they had better things to do—like ticketing speeders on the Turnpike. God forbid we drive above the limit. And you, you weren’t doing anything but talking about what should happen to the murdering bastard when they caught him. Only it wasn’t a ‘when,’ it was an ‘if’—an ‘if’ that was never going to happen.”

Jack finished the glass and poured himself some more, killing the bottle.

Dad looked up from the ham. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Something. Anything.”

“Like what? Go out and track him down myself?”

“Why not?” Jack said. “I did.”

Oh, shit, he thought. Did I just say that?

“You
what
?”

Jack raced through his options here. Say never mind and stonewall it? Or go ahead and tell all. Abe was the only other person on earth who knew.

But now the wine and a cranky, don’t-give-a-shit mood pushed him to let it roll. He sucked in a deep breath.

Here goes.

“I tracked him down and took care of him.”

Jack thought he saw Dad’s hand tremble as he put down the carving knife. His expression was tight, his eyes bright and wide behind his glasses.

“Just how…I’m not sure I want to hear this but…just how did you take care of him?”

“I saw to it that he never did anything like that again.”

Dad closed his eyes. “Tell me you broke his arms, or smashed his elbows.”

Jack said nothing.

Dad opened his eyes and stared at him. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Jack…Jack, you didn’t…”