4

 

The drive through Mill’s Landing told Jack that six years away had changed little…and everything.

Cole’s Hardware still sat on the corner of Fourth and Main, and Minton’s Drive-In Theater, one of the few that remained in operation in the state, was open for the season. Jack had spent countless summer nights there with Misty, though he could hardly recall the name of even one of the movies that had played. He’d been too busy watching her dark curtain of hair dance in the breeze, admiring the tilt of her nose, the slope of her mouth, and dreaming of coaxing a kiss.

The Landing was different now…the design and feel. The willows had exploded, their long, flowing fingers swaying gently in the last vestiges of moonlight and across dewy grass. A jogging trail flanked the river’s edge. A sign for a preschool he didn’t recognize, Precious Miracles, beckoned beyond the refurbished playground.

Did his son—daughter—play there?

Jack rolled down the window and let the chill of a spring breeze wash over him. The hum of the rental car’s engine wasn’t enough to drown out the memories, so he switched on the radio and cranked it to a volume somewhere between Lose the Past and Wake the Dead.

The lyrics of a hymn washed over him, bringing with them a sense of peace. So many things were hard right now. Jack wondered who’d rented the car before him. Was this some kind of sign?

Jack brushed a hand across his jaw, startled to find the stubble he’d neglected to shave for several days was morphing into a full-on beard. The cool air revived him, and at the next corner, he turned right and followed the familiar two-lane road.

The hushed sigh between night and dawn was quiet, but he sensed nature inhaling a breath, ready to whisper the morning alive. Birds fluttered in the treetops, and a dog barked in the distance. Low, dark storm clouds veiled the stars. The moon glowed through rifts as the clouds swirled, illuminating a pasture that fronted the road. Just before the telltale fork, a tidy, white-washed house rose into view. It was still there, a lone sentinel.

Floodlights spilled across the darkness, warning travelers to turn right or left. Jack had installed them himself the day after a driver missed the turn and took a midnight plunge across the front lawn. The pick-up truck demolished the porch stairs and rails before its hood came to rest just inches from the living room where he and Misty nestled, watching a movie.

Beneath the light, he noticed the reconstructed porch could use a new coat of sealant, and the shutters that flanked the front windows were a bit weather-beaten. One winked at him as though it knew his deepest secrets. No doubt, the house still had character and held memories—lots of them—but it was beginning to show its age.

A sturdy oak with an array of branches just waiting to be climbed stood proudly to the rear-left of the detached garage. The skin beneath Jack’s right eyebrow throbbed as he remembered falling from an upper limb and scraping his face along the length of bark. The impact when he hit the ground had knocked him out cold, and as he came to, Misty was leaning over him, her face a mask of worry. She’d murmured for him to lie still while she tended his wound with a gentle touch, her fingers like feathers along his skin.

It was the first time Jack knew for sure that he loved her.

“Who’s there?”

The voice startled Jack back to the present. He turned his attention to the front porch and saw Misty’s mother rise from a rocking chair, her cream-colored flannel nightgown tufting in the breeze.

“Mimi.” He used the name they’d agreed on years ago, back when he was in middle school. Mrs. Larsen was too formal for a boy who spent most of his waking hours exploring the great outdoors with her daughter, but Jack felt disrespectful using Mimi’s given name—Judith. So they’d agreed on Mimi, pure and simple. “It’s me…Jack.”

“Well, it’s about time the prodigal son returned.” Mimi took a step toward him. “Park that car and come into the light where I can see you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack did as he was told. He’d learned early on there was no use arguing with Misty’s mom—unless he was in a losing kind of mood. Better to just stick with the program…go with it. He swung the car up the short gravel drive and killed the engine. Stepping into a halo of light, he leaned back against the sedan’s fender and crossed his arms.

“Where is she?” The chilled breeze roused Jack.

“You look all grown up, Jack. Maybe it’s the beard…”

“Where is she, Mimi?” he repeated. “I have to know.”

“In town. Misty’s had a place of her own since…”

“Is the baby OK?” He took a step forward.

“She’s hardly a baby anymore.”

“She?” The breath escaped Jack. “So, I have a daughter.”

“That’s right.” Mimi slipped back into the chair, pumped furiously. “Why now, Jack? After all this time…”

“I just found out.” He glanced at his watch. “Not even a full day ago.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just tell me where to find Misty. I need—”

“What about what Misty needs?” Mimi smoothed her gown over her knees as it fought with the breeze. “You’ve waited six years; another hour won’t hurt. Come in. You look like you can use a cup of coffee.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Mimi stood and held up a hand like a cop directing traffic. The rocker’s rails slapped against the porch slats, shocking the night as friction worked magic to bring the chair to a stop. “Give Misty a chance to down her coffee, too. You’ll get a whole lot further reasoning with her that way—and let me tell you, Jack, the road ahead is sure to be rocky.”

 

****

 

“Tie your shoes, Allie.” Misty coaxed as she packed Allie’s lunch box. “We have to get going.”

Allie plopped onto the kitchen floor and tugged at the laces of her sparkly-pink tennis shoes. “Can I have three cookies today?”

“May I,” Misty corrected. “And two Oreos are more than enough.”

“But I share with Sally. Her mama doesn’t pack her cookies…just peanut butter with no jelly. Sometimes she doesn’t even pack a juice box.”

“Is that so?” Misty knelt to double-knot Allie’s laces. She was sure, if she didn’t, they’d come undone before she and Allie even finished the ride to school. “Maybe her mom has a good reason for no cookies.”

“Maybe.”

But Misty added a third Oreo to the zippered plastic bag and tossed in a second juice box, just in case.

She handed the lunch box to Allie, adjusted the child’s flowered headband, and patted her on the bottom. “Head to the car.”

“Yes, Mama.” Allie skipped through the front door and across the drive to their car. “I talked to Lucky last night, and he wants us to keep Ralph—just for the weekend, though.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Mama.” Allie waited as Misty unlocked the car. “He told me. Will you come in after school and help me carry him?”

“He has a cage, right?”

“’Course, but Mrs. Barnett said it’s not a cage—it’s a playground. And Ralph has a big box of food. Mrs. Barnett says he likes lettuce and carrots and all kinds of salad stuff, too.”

“We can manage that.”

Allie chattered all the way to school. Usually, Misty idled through the car line, dropping Allie at the front walk. But, today she parked the car and walked Allie to the entrance.

“Honey, here’s something for your art project—your family tree.” Misty handed Allie a photograph. “Show it to Mrs. Barnett, OK?”

“Who is it, Mama?”

“It’s…your daddy.” The words stuck in Misty’s throat like glue. “I wrote his name on the back for you.”

“This looks like the Landing. Did he used to live here, Mama?”

“Yes, he did. We went to school together.”

Allie turned the photo over. “Jack Sea…Sea…”

“Seaton.”

“Jack Seaton…Daddy.”

“That’s right, honey. He’s your daddy.”