“Sorry, I’m not following.”
“Think about it,” Andy said. “One minute your life is headed in one direction and then it takes a U-turn, but not to backtrack. Instead, you’re on these unfamiliar roads, navigating in the dark. Everything that was secure to you is suddenly insecure. In Freudian psychology, it’s known as the displacement theory. It’s the unconscious redirecting of emotions from one thing to another. You lost your sense of security, so you replaced it with prepping. Now you feel secure again. It’s pretty simple when you think about it.”
And Jake did think. He thought a lot, falling silent, gazing out the window, but not really seeing the traffic. Everything Andy had just said hit him square in the heart-right where it counted.
“They taught you all that at school?” Jake said.
“And some.”
“We’re sure getting our money’s worth.”
“It’s free tuition, Dad.”
“Well, aren’t we lucky, then?” Jake held a serious expression, but soon it slipped into a wry grin. Andy relaxed enough to allow the corner of his mouth to lift a little as well. When it did, Jake slugged Andy’s shoulder in a loving, guylike way.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Andy started to laugh. “Dad, I’ve been trying to tell you this for ages. You just haven’t been listening.”
“That’s not true. I listen to everything you say.”
“No, Dad, you want just to teach me about communication equipment, gardening, and self-defense-which, by the way, is the only thing I really like.”
“It’s not just about what you like to do,” Jake said. “It’s about having the skill set you need to survive.”
“You see? You see? You’re doing it again! You’re not hearing me.”
Jake held up his hands to show he wasn’t going to be defensive. “I’m hearing you! I’m hearing you! So you don’t want to drill anymore?”
“That’s right. No more three A.M. wake-up calls. It’s affecting me in a negative way.”
“Did you learn that in Professor Cooper’s psych class as well?”
Andy chuckled. “No, that’s my own personal observation. If you love me, and I know you do, we’re going to stop being preppers.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?”
“I want you to dismantle the bug-out location,” Andy said.
The mood turned sour in the time it took Jake to change lanes. Jake fell silent for several miles, and Andy let him think.
“You may want to hamper our ability to get out of Dodge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same. Stop the drills if that’s your desire, but the BOL stays. And I’m not going to stop doing what I have to do to protect us.”
Andy pondered the offer; then he extended his hand. “Yeah, I guess it’s a deal, Dad.”
Jake shook on it.
“But I want you to do something for me,” Andy said.
“Anything, but what I said I wouldn’t do.”
“I want you to think about dismantling the bug-out location. I’m not asking you to do it. I’m just asking you to give it some real serious consideration.”
“It’s not happening, son.”
“Just think about it, Dad. That’s all I’m asking.”
Jake gazed out the window and said nothing. Andy gripped his father’s arm.
He’s trying to reach you… Listen to him…
“Please,” Andy pleaded.
Jake saw the desperation in his son’s eyes.
“Yeah, buddy,” he said. “I’ll think it over. Promise.”
The rest of the drive back to Winston was uneventful. They stopped at McDonald’s for a couple of shakes and some burgers, and made excellent time the rest of the way home. Jake kept the conversation light. They talked about music and TV shows, Andy’s classes and college, and Vines that his son found endlessly amusing. Little by little, Jake would goad Andy back into the life. He felt hopeful, because Andy’s decision put them both at risk.
The sun had nearly set when Jake turned onto the dirt road that led to the trailer a quarter mile away. The tough winter had left deep ruts in the road, and Jake imagined making a midnight dash to his bug-out location, driving right over those divots using his truck the way he intended when he bought it.
As Jake pulled into his driveway, the Tahoe’s headlights illuminated the figure of a woman sitting on the stairs at the trailer’s front door. Jake came to an abrupt stop and cut the engine, but he kept the headlights on so he could see the person clearly.
His jaw dropped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
Andy followed his father’s gaze, and his eyes went wide as well.
The woman sitting on the front steps smoking a cigarette didn’t look all that different from her pictures-the pictures in the memory book, the pictures seared into his consciousness. The years hadn’t aged her beyond recognition. Andy knew his mother.
He’d know her anywhere.
CHAPTER 13
Laura.
Jake shut off the Tahoe’s headlamps, but the spot over the front door shone down on Laura as if she were the focus of some play.
On the pitching mound, feelings didn’t matter, actions did. After baseball, Jake had continued to use actions to dampen his feelings. In this instant, all that changed. Emotions came at Jake so hard and so fast, he had to sit in the truck a moment to get his bearings.
Eventually Jake got out, but Andy didn’t budge. He looked weak, stunned, and could only stare openmouthed at his mother.
Jake approached Laura with caution, as if fast footsteps or a sudden movement might scare her off. The pounding of his heart drowned out all sound. Jake stopped a few feet from the front stairs and tried to relax his jaw muscles.
Laura took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke out the side of her mouth. Her head was tilted to the right, and her long, blond hair cascaded across her shoulders in a way Jake remembered and adored. It was brisk outside, and Laura was dressed for the weather in a thick green parka, jeans, and hiking boots.
Laura’s car was parked off to the side in the little pullout used to make a three-point turn. It made Jake sort of sad to see Laura driving a Chevy, a beat-up Impala, because she was always so proud of her fancy cars. Laura had left them with hope of having a better life. Up close, it was clear she had been chasing that dream ever since, and the years had been harder on her than they had been on Jake.
While Laura had smoked some in high school, she’d shelved the habit after they married, occasionally having a cigarette or two when they went out for drinks. It appeared that Laura had made it a habit once more. Jake could see where her skin had wrinkled and puffiness marred the underside of her eyes. But nothing truly dampened her beauty; and while Laura’s hair was less lustrous than he remembered, her mouth was the same as ever.
“Hi, Jake. You look good.”
Jake scratched at his head, trying to make sense of it all. His emotions went wild. He was exhilarated, dazed, and angry. He’d never experienced anything like this before. He could only imagine how Andy was feeling.
“What are you doing here, Laura?”
Laura stood and took a few steps toward him. Her eyes were like two warm pools, inviting him inside, pleading to forgive and forget.
“I’ve been thinking about you, about us,” Laura said.
She came closer. Every move-the dip of her shoulder, that playful upturn of her mouth, a slight list of her head to one side-it was all so Laura, so familiar to Jake. He could tell right away she was flirting, acting coy, and gauging his reaction to see if he, too, could pretend she had never walked away.
But he couldn’t play along. Jake folded his arms across his chest, closing himself off. Laura took another step toward him, and Jake turned his head to look back at Andy. His son was sitting inside the truck, eyes lowered. He couldn’t watch, and Jake couldn’t blame him.