“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?”