by Sandra Hill
“I know.”
“Do you want me to talk with him?”
“Oh, my goodness, no!” She suspected that Jake had been told of her dating Kevin. What would he think—how would he react if Kevin approached him? “He has all the help he needs, I think. Tons of appointments coming up, doctors, hospitals, therapists, rehab, and he’s on the phone every day with someone at the Pentagon.”
“The Pentagon?” Kevin arched his brows at her. “Seriously? The Pentagon?”
“Yeah, a Major Durand.”
“Do you want me to look him up for you?”
She thought about his offer and was tempted, but then shook her head. No, Jake would not appreciate her going behind his back.
Kevin had to be wondering why she didn’t just ask Jake herself. Hah! He clammed up at the least questions about his experiences of the last few years. Somehow, it seemed traitorous of her to mention this to someone who was a stranger to Jake. And it was embarrassing to her, as well.
“Anyway, how’s the treasure hunt going?” she asked, going for a change of subject.
“Slow. We’re just setting up the new site. Farther out in the ocean than the last one. About seventy-five miles.”
“Is it still the Three Saints that you’re looking for?”
“Yep.”
There was a reason why the Atlantic Ocean off the Outer Banks was known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Because of the treacherous shoals and frequents storms, some hurricane strength, thousands of ships had gone down out there. Among them were the Three Saints, a Portuguese convoy that sunk in the 1850s. Their cargo was worth millions. The Three Saints had been the initial target of the salvaging company Kevin worked for. The treasure they found belonged to an entirely different shipwreck, which left the Three Saints still undiscovered.
Just then she heard the swish of the door to the shop and there stood Jake. Despite the cane he held in his one hand, he looked almost like his old self, wearing running shorts and a white T-shirt. He was still too thin, but she could swear he’d already regained some of his old weight. He even had some color from being outdoors with the boys so much. The happy expression on his face, something that had been absent since his return, faded suddenly to questioning, then grim.
It was obvious what he was seeing and what he was thinking.
“Jake,” she called out, but he’d already turned and was going back through the shop.
She followed after him, but Nancy Dreyer, one of the planners for the Lollypalooza festivities, wanted to talk with her about an order involving a cake in the shape of a treasure chest with gold coin cookies. By the time Sally was able to get away, Jake was gone.
“Oh, shit!” Kevin said, joining her on the sidewalk outside the shop. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come by here. Let me go catch up with him and straighten him out about what he saw—or thought he saw.”
“No, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry. I’ll clear it up myself. No biggie.”
But was it?
After Kevin left, she finished up her work at the shop and told José that she would be in that evening to prepare all the bread doughs for tomorrow morning, thus relieving him to spend time with his visiting daughter, who lived in Nags Head with his divorced wife and her new husband.
When she got home, she was surprised to see that Jake’s truck was missing. Still, as she went inside, she called out an idiotically hopeful “Honey, I’m home.” He was hopeful that, after calming down, he wasn’t as upset by what he’d seen with her and Kevin as she expected. But a quick look around showed that he hadn’t returned after his trip to town. His laptop, various notebooks, and a calendar were strewn about the kitchen table where he must have been working this morning.
She called Jake’s cell number, but it went directly to voice mail. It was three o’clock, and the kids didn’t need to be picked up in the school parking lot until five; so, she decided to make a special dinner, one Jake used to love in the old days. He’d ordered it every time they went out to eat in a restaurant. Back then, Sally hadn’t been much of a cook. It was linguine with white clam sauce and a crusty baguette she’d brought home from the bakery for dipping in the rich, garlicky juice. Joe had given her a bag of fresh clams last night.
While she prepared the meal, stopping every few minutes to make notes on a tablet sitting on the counter for Lollypalooza monster cookie ideas, she kept calling Jake’s cell. To no avail.
Finally, around four, she got a text from him. I’ll pick up the boys.
Immediately, she texted back, Where are you? I’ve been worried.
She got no return text. Instead, Recipient Unavailable.
Was Jake out of the area, so soon after texting her?
Or had he blocked her?
The ass!
Dinner was ready by five; so, Sally set everything on warm and waited. And waited. And waited.
At five fifteen, she expected the truck to pull into the driveway and the kids to come barreling into the kitchen bubbling with excitement over their excursion. The school was only three miles from here. At five thirty, she figured the bus might have been a little late. By five forty-five, she grew worried. At six, when she finally heard the roar of the truck’s motor and the shouts of the kids, she was alternately relieved and angry.
They came running into the kitchen, giving her a quick hug, then rushing into the living room for their two-hour video game fix. They were permitted only two hours per day during the summer, and there would be a one-hour limit come fall on school days, after homework, according to the rules Sally insisted upon. In the midst of their chatter, she caught the words burger and fries and The Bay Shack. When Jake sauntered in, he carried a doggie bag with The Bay Shack imprint on it.
“You took them out to eat? Without letting me know?”
“We brought you some food, too,” Jake said, plopping the bag on the table, as if she should be happy at the surprise. Just then, he took a look around the kitchen, saw what she’d prepared, and said, “Uh-oh!”
“Listen up, oh, clueless one,” she said, trying to keep her voice down to control her fury. She put her hands, which were shaking, on the table and leaned forward. “I get that you were upset, but you didn’t give me a chance to explain. Kevin just stopped by to see if I was all right.”
“No, you listen,” he said, seething back at her, his hands on the opposite side of the table, leaning forward, too. Their faces almost met in the middle. “I don’t give a damn if you want to continue your affair with good ol’ Kev, but at least have the decency to do it in private.”
“Affair? Affair?” she sputtered.
“Shhh!” Jake cautioned, looking toward the living room where the creepy ambient cave sounds of Minecraft could be heard at a high volume.
“Don’t you shush me,” she said, although she lowered her voice. “Where were you all afternoon?”
“Driving around.”
“For three hours?”
“Yeah. I was pretty upset, but I calmed down. That’s why I took the kids out to eat and brought you food. A peace offering. Some peace, huh?”
“Here’s a news flash, Jacob. I never had sex with Kevin or any other man since we’ve been married, but, if I decided to, I sure as hell wouldn’t need permission from you.”
She could see that she’d startled him, and he started to apologize. “I’m sorry if I overreacted—”
“If? I’ll give you if, Mister Ass-of-the-Month!” With that statement, she went over and lifted the pot of linguine with clam sauce and dumped the contents in the sink. “Thank you very much, Sally,” she said in a fake male voice, “for preparing my favorite meal, even though you were scared to death when the kids were an hour and a half late. Thanks for the fucking phone call. And, oh, thanks for worrying that I might jump off a cliff. Like I ever would! Ha, ha, ha.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just regaining my sanity. By the way, who’s Major Durand from the Pentagon?”
He ha
d been gaping at the mess in the sink. The pasta and sauce could go down the disposal, but the shells would have to be picked up. His head jerked up suddenly as he realized what she’d asked him. “How do you know that name?”
“It popped up on the caller ID of your phone a few days ago when that oddball ring came on. You know, brr-ing, brr-ing, brr-ing.”
“That brr-ing, brr-ing, brr-ing caller ID doesn’t come up automatically,” he replied with a decided note of sarcasm. But then he tilted his head in question and stared at her suspiciously, as if she’d been deliberately invading his privacy. “His calls are on a private, secure app.”
A private, secure app with the Pentagon. Interesting. “Yeah, well, you were out in the garage lifting your stupid weights, and the phone kept buzzing, and I thought it might be important, so I punched a bunch of buttons till it stopped and the caller ID came up. Big fat hairy deal!” She glowered at him.
“And you never bothered to mention it to me?”
“So sue me!”
Jake hated that expression. It was what people said when they lost an argument. “Calm down.”
“No, you calm down, you clueless moron. And don’t worry. I didn’t read any of your precious secret messages.”
“Good.”
Sally felt as if the threads that had held her together the past few weeks were frayed and beginning to unravel. Any minute now she would start bawling. And so she picked up her car keys and purse and headed for the door. “I’m going back to the shop where I’m wanted and needed and appreciated. See you later. Maybe.”
“Sally, don’t go. Let’s talk.”
But she was beyond talking now. She slammed the door after her.
Even clueless men know that a slammed door makes a statement . . .
Jake let Sally go.
And he didn’t follow after her.
Or call to check up on her. He trusted that she was at her shop. At this point, if she’d remained celibate for three years after he “died,” like she’d said, then she wasn’t about to hop in the sack with a guy just to spite him. He hoped.
Instead, he let the boys play an extra hour of video games, despite his wife’s rule. “So sue me!” he murmured, reiterating Sally’s lame exclamation. He actually didn’t disagree with her TV and video game limits, but sometimes rules were made to be broken. This was one of those times.
If anyone disagrees, they can friggin’ sue me.
While the boys played, he started to clean up the mess in the kitchen, thinking the whole time. In some convoluted way—a clueless man’s brain works that way at times—Jake decided that Sally’s bombshell reveal about her celibacy had been like throwing down the gauntlet. Yeah, they had a million problems, foremost being his wavering thoughts on Bell Cove and on his marriage and on his future in the military, which raised two million questions that needed to be answered, but her never taking a lover, not even once, well, that threw a whole lot of other questions into the mix.
Like, did he still love Sally?
Hell, yes!
Did she still love him?
Up in the air.
Did he want to stay married to Sally? No, the overriding question in that regard was: Would she be better off without him?
Probably.
But if he gave up on his marriage, what about the kids?
He was just getting to know the boys and loved them with a ferocity that made his heart ache at just the prospect of giving them up.
On the other hand, if he and Sally were to separate or divorce, that didn’t mean he would sever all connection with his children, did it?
A fly-by father, that’s what I’d be. Nope. No way!
Then, fight for your wife and your family, dammit.
Which brings us to my military career. My being assigned away from home, whether DC or the Middle East, was the bone of contention that splintered my marriage from the get-go.
So, give it up. Stay in Bell Cove. Work on what’s most important.
And do what? Become a commercial fisherman like my dad?
There are worse things.
Yeah, I can see it now. A one-eyed cripple hauling nets.
Stop the pity party. Wounded vets are doing amazing things in the workplace. Find something you can love, or at least live with, to save what’s most important.
Easier said than done.
Suck it up, soldier, and fight for what you want.
So many questions! So few answers!
Blah, blah, blah.
Where’s Dr. Sheila when I need her?
Maybe it’s time to contact that local shrink.
Maybe I’m losing my friggin’ mind.
Unfortunately, his father dropped by in the middle of his convoluted thought process.
“Uh,” his father said, taking in the slop in the sink and the clam shells he was dropping into the trash bin he’d pulled over. “An accident?”
“You could say that.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“You could say that.” Jake turned on the disposal three times to handle it all. Then he pushed the now-closed trash bin with his right foot over to its spot by the door. “What’s up, Dad?”
His father blushed.
Which caused Jake’s brain to go on red alert. Last time Dad blushed was when he told me about condoms. I was twelve at the time. Oh, Lord! Do I have to do that with my boys?
“Mike and I have an idea.”
“Okay.” Not the condoms then. Whew! But this oughta be good.
“We’d like to take the boys for an overnight . . . actually, a weekend out on the boat. Fishing. Cooking fresh fish on board. Swimming in the coves. Board games. That kind of thing.”
“You and Old Mike? And three kids?”
“What? You think me and Mike are too old?”
“That’s not what I said.” Although, as his dad stood there, wearing ratty old fishing pants and a plaid shirt with one of the buttons missing, Jake noticed how tired he looked. Jake knew that he and Old Mike had been up since dawn, fishing for blues. Maybe it was time his father cut back. Had he considered retirement? He was sixty-two, after all. Did he need the money? Would he sell the boat? Or was he still holding out for Jake to take over?
More questions!
“You implied it.”
“Huh?” Jake had lost track of their conversation.
“You implied that I’m too old to take care of your three boys out on the boat for one blasted weekend. You don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that. I just find it kind of strange. Your timing and all that.”
“Actually, it’s all about timing. Labor Day is coming up soon, and the boys will be busy. The scouts are going to be in the parade, you know, and they have a float to prepare. Then, after Labor Day, they’ll be busy with school. Plus, the weather starts to get iffy after September. Yep, it’s all about timing.”
Jake stared at his father, not at all convinced. The old man was up to something. But he didn’t have time to argue with him now. He had too many other issues on his plate. “Discuss it with Sally. She’s the boss when it comes to the boys.”
His father smiled. “Good. Sally told me to discuss it with you.”
“When did you talk to Sally about this?”
“Tonight. I stopped in the bakery when I saw the light on out back. I was dropping off some fish at The Honey Hole.”
So, Sally really was at the bakery.
Not that he’d doubted her.
“Another thing,” his father said, and the blush was back. “Vana Gustafson offered to come out with us. So, three adults to keep an eye on three kids.”
Jake’s eyes about popped out at that news—well, his one good eye. The sexpot senior had offered to go boating with his father? Was this a senior version of a dirty weekend? But no, Old Mike would be there, too, and three mini chaperones.
A grin twitched at Jake’s lips as he thought, Maybe I should be having the condom talk with dear old Dad. “That’s just great. Let me discuss it wi
th Sally first, though.”
After his father left, he made the boys a big bowl of microwave popcorn because they were hungry again. They were always hungry.
“Okay, Minecrafters, time to shut off the TV and play the butt game,” he announced to the boys a short time later. It was nine p.m. and Sally wasn’t home. Looked like he was going to have to put them to bed. Which was not going to be a pretty scene.
“What’s the butt game?” Luke asked. He was the first one to meet Jake in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. The other two soon followed, coming to a skidding stop. Aside from always being hungry, his boys were always on the move. They never walked when they could run.
“Is the butt game like the fart game?” Matt wanted to know, smiling widely. “I can do three in a row.”
“Especially after he eats beans,” Mark agreed.
“But Binky Jones ith the champion. He did one really loud at the mutheum today,” Luke said.
Matt nodded. “Yep. He cut the cheese real loud. And Mr. Allen, the assistant scout leader, made him go sit in the bus for an hour.”
Jake had discovered that little boys loved anything involving body noises, whether they be farts or belches, as well as body emissions, like poop or piss. “No, my butt game has nothing to do with farts,” Jake said. “I need to go upstairs to get you guys to bed. I’m gonna need a little help. On my butt.”
“You’re coming upstairs?” Mark asked.
Even if it kills me.
“Sorry. That was a silly question,” Mark added.
Not a silly question since Jake hadn’t been upstairs since he’d gotten home.
“What about your leg?” Matt wanted to know. “Won’t it hurt?”
Like a hot iron, which I am ironically familiar with.
“Will you read uth a bedtime thory, like Mommy doth?”
“Dads don’t read bedtime stories,” Mark chided Luke.
“Besides, I’m too old for bedtime stories,” Matt contended.
Luke ducked his head.
“Actually, dads do read bedtime stories. And you never grow too old to listen to a good story. You wouldn’t believe how much the guys in my unit love to tell and listen to stories when we’re out on a live op.”
