Ryan clapped slowly. Each time his hands came together they sounded like a shot, the smirk on his face mocking Jake even before he reached the main path.
“Well done, Jacob.”
“It’s over, Ryan.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Ryan cocked his head as if listening, then held up a finger. “Wait. Wait. Maybe not quite finished.”
A voice, not distinguishable, called out from a long ways away. A second later, the voice grew in strength. By the time five seconds had passed, Jake knew who it was.
Ryan jerked his thumb down the trail. “If I’m not mistaken, that sounds like your father calling.”
“No. Don’t play mind games. I finished that.”
Ryan frowned as Jake’s dad’s voice grew louder. “Apparently not.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m doing nothing. This is about what you need to do. That, and that alone.”
“Don’t mess with me, Ryan.” Jake brought his fists up to chest level.
Ryan peered at Jake’s fists and laughed. “There’s no need to think of violence. I speak the truth when I agree you were enough for Sienna and that you chose wisely. Congratulations. That part is finished. However, it doesn’t appear you’re quite finished with your dad.”
Jake glared at Ryan and strode toward his father. As he reached the small trail off the main path, his dad’s voice boomed through the woods like a cannon.
“Jaker, where are you, pard? Let’s get this done!”
Jake jogged down the path, which ended in the same exact place as last time. The perfect doghouse stood where he’d left it, on the edge of his dad’s perfect lawn. His dad stood on the deck off the back of the house, hands on hips, a sarcastic smile on his face. As soon as he saw Jake, he pulled open the screen door and stepped inside.
Jake crossed the lawn in five strides, reached the back of the porch, bounded up on the deck, and pushed into the kitchen. His father sat at the far end of the kitchen table, his arms folded. A sheet of yellowed paper lay in front of him next to a red folder.
“Go on ahead and sit down, Jaker, do you mind?”
Jake stood at the end of the table and gritted his teeth against the sickly sweet tone his dad used to ask questions that were not in fact questions.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” There was no reason to sit until he knew what he had to do this time.
“Could you go on and grab yourself a chunk of chair there, Jaker?” His dad extended his hand toward the chair, his eyes like ice.
Jake mashed his lips together to keep from screaming, then said, “What do you want from me?”
“Whadda we have right here?” His father held up the paper and snapped his finger against it.
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do know, so go ahead and take a bit more of a peek.”
Jake leaned forward and squinted at the paper and he knew what it was. Knew why his dad was upset. This same scene had played out in fourth grade, eighth grade, and his junior year in high school.
“Let me fix it.” Jake remained standing. “What do you want me to do?”
Wide smile. Arctic eyes. “I want you to sit down, right now. That’s what I want you to do.”
Jake sat, elbows on the table, legs twitching.
“Let’s go ahead and remove those elbows from the table, why don’t we? That’s not the way Palmers sit at the table, is it?”
Jake pulled his arms into his lap. No shame. He wouldn’t allow his mind to go there. Just get this done. Jake repeated the question. “What do you want me to do?”
“Your report card.” His dad snapped the paper again. “Says here you got two B-minuses. That’s not going to be working for anyone now, is it? Nope, not in a million years. How are you ever going to be enough for a college to take a serious look at you if you can’t be enough in grade school?”
Jake glanced at the table’s shadow on the kitchen floor. It seemed like it was reaching out to choke him and he swallowed hard. Play the game. Tell him what he needed to hear. Fix it. Be enough.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I messed up. Didn’t study hard enough. I won’t disappoint you again, I promise. What can I do to make it up to you?” His dad opened the red folder and pulled out two sheets of white paper. He slid them over to Jake, then tossed him a pencil.
“You’re going to take a little test I made up. And if you get any of the answers wrong, you’re going to study, then take another test. We’re going to do this till you get it right. Put your name on the test, upper right corner on top of the thick line.”
Jake snatched up the pencil and started to write his name, but he pressed too hard, snapped off the tip of the pencil, and the shame he’d promised to ignore washed over him. He looked up at his dad without lifting his head.
“Here you go, Jaker.” His dad tossed him a pencil sharpener. “Ease up on the pressure there. We don’t need to be wasting any of that pencil now, do we?”
Jake blew out a breath from between his teeth as he sharpened the pencil and looked at the questions. Jake fought against the emotions screaming that he was eleven years old again, disappointing his father for not making straight As. He wasn’t eleven and this was his chance to fix the past. Had to push through the shame, dig deep, get through it.
The questions were for a fifth grader. He buzzed through them and pushed the paper back at his father. His dad took less than a minute to check Jake’s answers. He looked up at Jake but didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The tight smile across his face shouted plenty loud.
“One wrong, Jaker. Let’s try again.”
As his dad pulled another sheet out of the folder, Jake couldn’t hold his tongue.
“I’m not a kid,” he muttered to himself. “This is ridiculous.”
“What did you say?”
Jake’s face went hot. How could his dad have heard that?
“You think this is ridiculous? Hmm. Don’t believe I’m able to agree with that assessment of your situation, Jake. In fact, I’m not going to believe that sentiment came out of your mouth. No sirree. That would make you stupid. And I don’t think my son is stupid, not for a second.”
“No, I’m not.”
“And you are a kid, Jake. You might think being eleven makes you a man, but it doesn’t. Got it?”
Jake nodded.
“I want to hear the words. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Dad. I understand you.”
“I’m helping you here, Jake. You get in the habit of getting good grades now, it will stay with you the rest of your life. But if you don’t figure it out, it’ll dog you till the day you die.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Three tests later, Jake got all the answers right.
“Good work, Jaker.” His dad rose from his end of the table, came over to Jake, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No, Dad.”
“Okay then, head on out the door and we’ll see you at supper.”
Jake nodded but didn’t look up. At least this was grade school and not high school or college. He’d fixed things this time, but what about the other three times he didn’t get straight As?
“Are there any other tests, Dad?” Jake stood. “Any others, or is this it?”
“The only one.”
Jake pushed through the kitchen door onto the deck and didn’t look back. Last test? Maybe. But Jake shuddered as he strode back down the path with the thought it wasn’t close to the last fix he would have to make.
He reached the main trail and jogged back down it toward the path to Sienna’s house. When he reached it, he started down the tinier path, but stopped halfway down and looked up through the trees. Where he’d expected to find the boulder with their old house on top of it, there was only sky.
Hope surged inside. He truly had fixed that one. He’d fixed his mom. Maybe this last go-around with his dad really was enough. If only he was dumb enough to believe it.
Two minutes later he reached the path that led to where his mom’s home had stood. He slowed, then came to a retched halt when a familiar groan floated down the path toward him. Jake shuffled down the trail to find his mom’s home had reappeared. Hell’s version of déjà vu. When he reached her bedroom, a twisted cackle sputtered out of her mouth.
“I’m glad you came when you did, Jakey. If you hadn’t shown up, well, let’s just say I don’t think I would have been here to greet you if you’d come any later.”
“Don’t do this, Mom. You promised. We fixed this.”
“When did we fix this?” Jake’s mom frowned. “Fixed what?”
“I was just here. You promised.”
“You haven’t been here in ages, Jakey.” She peered up at him, confusion bathing her face. “But you can do something to help me right now. Please?”
“What, Mom?” Jake asked, even though he knew what was coming.
“Will you sing me that song you used to sing? You know the one, don’t you, Jakey?”