Sunday, January 3rd, 2010

 

     My father and I went to church together this morning, then had lunch at Mr. Ochlou’s before going our separate ways. Papa had some work to do at the station, and I came home since Gus didn’t have anything for me to do today. 

 

We saw the New Year come in with Uncle Roy like we’d planned.  We got home from eating dinner at nine-thirty, and then the three of us stayed up until two in the morning playing cards.  Because of that, we all slept late.  Uncle Roy stayed in Clarice’s room while he was visiting us, and I think he was the first one to get up at about nine on New Year’s Day.  I vaguely heard someone moving around in the kitchen, then a little while later woke up again when I heard my father walk by my room and go down the stairs. I fell back to sleep, and didn’t wake up until eleven. As much as I wanted to roll over and sleep for a few more hours, I got up so I could spend some time with Uncle Roy before he left. He was catching the two o’clock ferry to Juneau, where he would return his rental car and board his plane for home that was departing at five-thirty. 

 

I got up, grabbed clean clothes, and headed for the bathroom.  I stopped at the head of our open stairway when I heard Uncle Roy’s voice drift up to me.  His words were faint, but clear.

 

 “Are you sure that’s what you wanna do?  Sounds like a lot of responsibility to me.  I thought you’d be ready to slow down a bit when Trevor went off to college, not work even more hours than you already do.”

 

I set my clothes on the landing and eased down seven stairs, being careful to avoid the spots that I knew creaked. I lowered my butt to the first step that allowed me to look through the banisters and see into the kitchen.  Roy’s back was to me, and because Papa was seated next to him at the head of the table, I could see him in profile only. Unless he turned and looked to his right, he couldn’t see me. 

 

I pressed my body into the railing, feeling kind of foolish doing so – like a little kid trying to catch some juicy family gossip that wouldn’t be spoken of if the grownups were aware of his presence.

 

Empty plates sticky with maple syrup still sat on the table, and I could smell pancakes and bacon being kept warm in the oven for me.  I easily heard Papa’s response to Uncle Roy’s words.

 

“It’ll be a lot of responsibility, yeah.  But as for slowing down once Trevor’s gone...no, that’s not what I’d planned to do.”

 

“No?”

 

“Roy, what the hell am I gonna do once he’s off to college?  Sit around here and twiddle my thumbs? If I had someone in my life like Joanne, then sure, it might be time to start thinking about retirement, but once Trev’s gone I’ll need something to keep me busy, and I guess this will do it.”

 

“Yeah, I’d say being Eagle Harbor’s Fire and Police Chief is gonna keep you busy all right.  Now you’ll never return my phone calls.”

 

Papa chuckled.  “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson where that’s concerned. If I don’t return your phone calls, I’ll come home one night to find you sitting in my driveway.”

 

“You just might,” Uncle Roy teased, before growing serious again. 

 

“Does Trevor know about this?”

 

“No, no one does except the members of the Police and Fire Commission.  I didn’t make my decision until yesterday.  I’ll talk to Trev about it later today.  Since he’s graduating in June, and then headed for Anchorage at the end of August, it really won’t change our normal routine much.  If he was still a kid, I wouldn’t be willing to give this a shot, but in May he’ll be eighteen.  He doesn’t need me like he did just a few years ago.”

 

“He’ll never stop needing you, Johnny.”

 

“I realize that, but it’s all gonna change once he’s in college.  He’ll come home for the holidays, and then he’ll be here in the summer to work for Gus, but more or less he’ll be on his own.  Then when he goes to medical school...well, he can’t do that in Alaska, so I’ve already faced the fact that in four years he’ll fully be on his own in one way or another.”

 

“Where’s he wanna attend medical school?”

 

“Anywhere he can get the most scholarship money – oh wait, that’s what I want.”

 

Uncle Roy laughed.

 

“Seriously, he’s talked about attending somewhere on the East coast so he can be near his mother. He doesn’t wanna live with her, but he’d like to have the opportunity to see her more...get to know her better.”

 

“That’s understandable.  You okay with it?”

 

“I don’t blame him for it, if that’s what you’re asking. Other than that summer he lived with her for a month or so, he’s only seen her two weeks out of each year since he was three.  He owes it to himself, and to Ashton, to develop a relationship with her that’ll last the rest of his life.”

 

“You’re a good father, Johnny.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“A lot of things, but at the moment, because you put your son’s needs ahead of yours.  I know the issue of Ashton is...a touchy one for you.”

 

“Touchy, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the place she has in Trevor’s life.  After all, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have him.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

“And believe me, Roy, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on Trevor for all the money in the world.”

 

“I know. Anyone who’s around you for more than five minutes can tell he’s the apple of your eye.”

 

“I can’t deny that.”

 

Uncle Roy shifted the subject back to what they’d originally been talking about. 

 

“So, how are you gonna make this work?  You don’t have any experience in law enforcement.  Didn’t Carl have an assistant who could take the job?”

 

“Yeah, there’s an assistant chief.  A guy by the name of Anton Baklanov.”

 

“Sounds very Russian.”

 

“He is. Or at least, his great grandfather was.  Anyway, Anton’s good at what he does, and the job was offered to him within a few days of Carl’s death, but he turned it down.”

 

“Why?  If you can tell me, that is.”

 

“I can tell you.  Anton’s wife was diagnosed with MS seven years ago, and they have a twenty-two year old son with Down’s syndrome. Because of all that, Anton pretty much takes care of everything on the home front – cleaning, cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, getting his wife to doctor appointments, and doing what he has to for Jeremy – his son.  Jeremy’s fairly independent, all things considered. He works as a stocker at the hardware store, but still, he’s mentally disabled, and can’t live by himself.  Anton’s got a lot on his shoulders. His wife’s health isn’t good.  He doesn’t want the extra stress and workload being the chief of police will bring him.”

 

“Given his circumstances, I don’t blame him, but how’d they get around to asking you to take the job?”

 

“They were looking for a good leader, and I guess I fit the bill in their eyes.”

 

“After seeing how you run that fire department, I won’t disagree with that. You are a good leader. Your employees have a lot of respect for you. But still, Johnny, you don’t have experience in law enforcement in any way, shape, or form.”

 

“Hey, I got those bank robbers to turn themselves in that time, remember?”

 

Uncle Roy laughed. “Yeah, ‘cause you talked ‘em to death.”

 

“Whatever works, partner.  Whatever works.”

 

There was a pause in the conversation, then Uncle Roy said half in awe, half with disbelief, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?  You’re really going to take that job.”

 

“Dead serious.  And yeah, I’m taking it.”

 

“And you’re gonna be able to handle fire calls and police calls both?  Sounds like you’ll have to clone yourself.”

 

“No, it’s not gonna work quite that way.”

 

“Then how is it gonna work?”

 

“The commission is going to name another assistant chief, so instead of just Anton in that position, there’ll be another guy who can share the load.  My job will be more administrative than anything else.  And to be honest with ya’, Roy, Eagle Harbor isn’t exactly the crime capital of the nation.”

 

I could hear the smile in Uncle Roy’s voice.  “I didn’t figure it was.”

 

“Other than when Crammer came here...well, that was about the most excitement the Eagle Harbor Police force has seen in a century.  That’s not to say the guys don’t have work to do, or that they don’t know their jobs, ‘cause that’s not true, either.  Carl had a well-trained staff, but let’s put it this way, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about solving any big crimes.  Drunk driving, underage drinking, speeding, teenagers shooting off firecrackers on a Saturday night, car accidents, water patrol in the summer, searching for lost kids in the National Forest, a few cases of domestic violence now and again - Tina Browder packs a mean punch, and her husband isn’t always sober enough to duck – stepping in-between the McGee sisters at St. Peter’s Church on Monday nights when they get into an argument over whose Bingo card is whose, and keeping things under control at Barnacle Bill’s, about sums up the extent of what the police around here have to handle.”

 

“Barnacle Bill’s?”

“A tavern down on the waterfront.  Things can get pretty wild in there on Friday and Saturday nights. Especially when Rick Schneider and Tony LaMeer start arguing about their girlfriend.”

 

“Their girlfriend? As in one woman?

 

“Yeah. And you should see how crazy things get when their wives get involved.”

 

“You mean as in Rick’s wife and Tony’s wife?”

 

“Uh huh.  It can get kinda dangerous when the chairs and beer bottles start flying.”

 

“I bet. Sounds like Eagle Harbor has a cast of interesting characters.”

 

“It does. But despite our faults, this is a good place to live.  There’s no place else I wanna call home.”

 

“I know. Eagle Harbor has been good to you...good for you.”

 

“That she has.”

 

“And your back is gonna hold up for all of this?”

 

“My back is gonna hold up,” Papa confirmed. “I’m feelin’ a lot better than I was just last week.  Mark...my doctor, wants me to have a few physical therapy sessions, and then make it a daily habit of doin’ whatever exercises the therapist shows me.  There’s nothin’ wrong that’s not pretty common for guys our age who spent a lotta years climbing ladders, climbing hose towers, jumping from engines, running to the squad every time we were toned out, and repelling down cliffs, to name just a few things that, on some mornings, my body wishes I’d never done.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Uncle Roy agreed, then reeled off what were evidently the common back problems for men their age that Papa had referred to. “Degenerative disk disease, bulging disks, arthritis--”

 

“That’s about the size of it” Papa confirmed with a grin and shake of his head.  “Thirty-eight years ago we’d a’ never thought we’d be sittin’ at my kitchen table someday talkin’ about all our aches and pains, huh?”

 

I could hear amusement laced with irony in Uncle Roy’s voice. “No, we never woulda’ thought that, but then, we never thought we’d get old either.”

 

“Sure didn’t.”

 

“So, what’s next?”

 

“With my job, ya’ mean?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, believe it or not, when Trevor goes off to college, I’ll be doing the same.  Starting next fall, I’ll take a two-year Police Science course at the technical college in Juneau. Before that, I’ll be working with Anton and Jim – the guy who’s gonna be named the other assistant chief – to help them adjust to the changes.”

 

“Think they’ll work well together?”

 

“I’m pretty sure they will.  Jim’s a good guy. Carl always thought a lot of him. He and Anton get along well, so I don’t foresee any big problems once we get all the kinks worked out.”

 

“What about Carl’s house?” Uncle Roy asked.  He knew the Fire and Police Commission provided the police chief with a home as part of his salary, just like our home is provided as part of my father’s salary  “You obviously can’t live in two places at once.”

 

“Nope, I can’t. That’s why I suggested to the commission that we let Clarice stay in the house and rent it from us.  Everyone was in agreement to that, so I’ll be talking to Clarice about it tomorrow.”

 

“It sounds like a pretty good deal if the rent is reasonable.”

 

“It is. No more than what she’d pay each month for an apartment, and for that price, she’s got a better deal. More living space, a garage, and a yard.  I’m sure she’ll go for it.  She likes the house, it’s in excellent condition, and since it’s right in town, it’ll be easy for her to get wherever she needs to go - grocery store, bank, post office, doctor’s office – without driving too far.  She’s seventy-seven, so it won’t be too many more years before it’ll be important that she can run errands without driving more than a few blocks. With Carl gone...well, she’s got a lot of nieces and nephews who’ll lend her a hand, and I’ll lend her a hand whenever she needs one, but still, I feel better knowing she’ll be in the center of town, in a house she likes living in and that’s located on main street, meaning every cop on patrol will pass by the house several times a day.”

 

“Kind of like looking out for your mother, huh?”

 

“Yeah, kinda like that.  God knows she’s been a mother to Trevor and me both since we moved here.  I owe it to Carl to do all I can for her.”

 

“I’m sure Carl wouldn’t think you’d do any less than that.”

 

“I suppose not. But...you know, I wonder sometimes if I could have...well, if I could have done more for him that night in the helicopter.”

 

“Johnny, don’t do this to yourself.  You did all you could for Carl, and you know it.  The types of injuries you told me he had meant he needed to be in a hospital as soon as possible. And even then, it’s hard to say if he would have pulled through.”

 

I didn’t know when my father and Uncle Roy talked about Carl’s injuries, but they would have had plenty of opportunity during the week Uncle Roy was visiting.  I worked at Gus’s on most days, meaning I was out of the house for seven or eight hours, and on the days Pops worked, Uncle Roy met him for lunch and then hung around the station for a while.

 

“I know,” I heard my father say in response to Uncle Roy’s words, “but still...he was a good friend.  It’s difficult...sometimes it’s difficult to think about.”

 

“I’m sure it is. I’m sorry this happened.  I liked Carl. He seemed like a great guy.”

 

“He was. I’ve been lucky, Roy.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I think we all tend to throw the word ‘friend’ around without really givin’ a lot of thought to what it means.  We think of most of our co-workers as friends, and sometimes we think of our neighbors as friends, or the people we go to church with – when I go, that is - but when push comes to shove, none of us have very many people in our lives that we’re not related to, who will stick by us through thick and thin. The reason I say I’m lucky, is because I’ve had two friends like that in my life.  You, and Carl.”

 

There was a long pause before Uncle Roy said, “You give me too much credit.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Chris. The incident with Monroe.  The years that followed.  I didn’t do right by you, Johnny.”

 

“We hashed this out nine years ago. There’s nothin’ left to say on the subject.  I told you then what I’ll tell you now. If I hadn’t gone to Denver and met Ashton, I wouldn’t have Trevor.  That pretty much negates everything else in my mind.”

 

“Still, sometimes I still feel guilty about all you went through because of me.  Because I turned my back on you.”

 

“Put it behind you, Roy.  Guilt’s a pretty unproductive emotion.”

 

Uncle Roy was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again I got the impression he’d led my father right into a well-planned trap.

 

“You’re right, guilt is a pretty unproductive emotion. So how about if you let go of your guilt, too.”

 

“About Carl?”

 

“Yes, about Carl, but also where Chris is concerned.”

 

“It was a long time ago.  I don’t--”

 

“You’re right, it was a long time ago, but don’t try to tell me you’ve cast aside the guilt you felt, because I know better.”

 

“Oh yeah? How?”

 

“Because if you didn’t still feel guilty, you wouldn’t have asked Trevor to stop writing his book.”

 

Silence lingered at the table for one minute, then for two.  As a third minute was approaching without my father making a response, Uncle Roy said, “Johnny, about Trevor’s book.”

 

“What...what about it?”

 

“I think you need to let him finish it. He told me that his mother says it’s good.”

 

“I’m sure it is.”

 

“Have you read any of it?”

 

“No.”

 

“I have.”

 

“When?”

 

“On Wednesday.  After you left for work I asked Trevor if he’d let me take a look at it.  He said I could, so I sat at his computer and read parts of it.  It is good, Johnny. Your boy has a talent that shouldn’t be disregarded.”

 

“I’m not disregarding anything.  I want Trevor to explore whatever career options interest him.”

 

“Even if that means he doesn’t go to medical school?”

 

“Roy, all I’ve ever wanted is for Trevor to be happy and live an honest, productive life.  If he’s happy being a garbage man, I’ll be happy as long as he goes to work every day and gives it his all. As long as he’s the best garbage man he can be.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry that your son is gonna be a garbage man.”

 

“I doubt I do either. He wants to be a doctor.”

 

“And I’m sure he’ll make a fine one, but let him finish this book, Johnny.  Read it, and then tell him he can finish it.”

 

“I...I can’t read it.”

 

“There’s nothing in it that’ll embarrass you. Quite the opposite, in my opinion.”

 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

 

“Then what are you worried about?”

 

“I...I just don’t wanna relive some of those years, Roy.”

 

“I realize that, but you’re not giving your son enough credit. The main focus of the book isn’t about the bad times, Johnny, it’s about the good times.  It’s about friendship. It’s about the extent one friend will go to for another. It’s about...well, despite the fictional names, it’s about us, and what we’ve meant to one another for almost forty years now. You’re doing yourself a disservice if you don’t read it, and you’re doing your son an even bigger disservice if you don’t let him finish writing it.”  Uncle Roy got a sheepish look on his face, then added, “In my opinion, that is.  Trevor’s your son. I don’t mean to overstep my bounds.”

 

Papa didn’t make a response to Uncle Roy’s last sentence.  Instead, he was quiet a moment, and then asked, “Did Trevor put you up to this?”

 

“No he didn’t. I was the one who brought it up by asking him if I could read what he’d written so far.  Other than telling Trev that I thought he’d done a great job, we haven’t discussed it.”

 

“And it’s really that good?”

 

“It’s really that good.”

 

Papa didn’t say anything else, which left Uncle Roy...and me, unsure about what he was thinking. He changed the subject then, and I silently crawled back up the stairs.  I made it sound like I’d just gotten out of bed by opening and closing dresser drawers with a lot more force than I ever use, then jogging from my bedroom to the bathroom so my pounding footsteps could be heard below, and then shutting the bathroom door just hard enough so the sound would travel to the main floor. I showered, dressed, made my bed, and bounded down the stairs to the great room.  Uncle Roy and Papa looked up when I entered the kitchen.

 

“Hey there, young man.”

 

“Hey, Uncle Roy.”

 

“ ‘Bout time you joined us,” Papa said.

 

I gave him a light rap on the head with my knuckles. “I need my beauty sleep. Unlike some people around here, that all the sleep in the world can’t help.”

 

Papa made a grab for me, but I swerved so he only caught the back of my shirt.  I laughed as I yanked it out of his grasp, then opened the oven and filled a plate with the food he’d put away for me.

 

Other than when I stood to put the dishes in the dishwasher, we didn’t move from the table until Uncle Roy had to get ready to leave.  My father and I put on our boots and coats, then followed him out to the Dakota.  Roy stowed his suitcase in the cargo hold, shut the door, and turned to face us. I hugged him, told him goodbye, told him to tell Libby, Aunt Joanne, and the rest of the family hi for me, patted his back as my way of thanking him for all he’d done since he’d arrived, and stepped out of his embrace.

 

The embrace my father and Uncle Roy shared lasted several long seconds.  Papa finally clapped him on the back and said, “Thanks for everything, Pally.”

 

I could have predicted the response.

 

“You’re welcome, Junior.” 

 

“Next time I think you’re overdue for a visit, I’ll quit returning your phone calls.”

 

Uncle Roy laughed, said, “That just might get me here again,” then climbed in the driver’s seat.

 

Papa said, “Have a safe trip.” He stepped back from the vehicle as Uncle Roy promised, “I will.”

 

“Tell Joanne and the kids I said hi.”

 

“Will do.”

 

We stood waving goodbye until the Dakota reached the road, and Uncle Roy turned toward Eagle Harbor.  Papa and I did chores together, then went in the house, took off our coats and boots, and washed up at the laundry room sink.  When my hands no longer smelled like horses, I headed for the great room.

 

“Wanna watch a movie?”

 

“Uh...not just yet.” Papa stood at the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for each of us.  “Come ‘ere and sit down a minute.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ve got a few things I wanna talk to you about.”

 

If I hadn’t already known I wasn’t going to be punished for drinking with Connor, I would have thought that was coming. Since I’d overheard Papa’s recent conversation with Uncle Roy, I assumed he was going to tell me about the job he’d accepted. I assumed right, because pretty much word for word, he said the same thing to me about it as he had to Uncle Roy.

 

I smiled when he was finished.  “I think that’s great.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah. They picked the best man for the job, as far as I’m concerned.”

 

“Well...we’ll see about that. Other than seminars and short refresher courses, I haven’t attended classes since I trained to be a paramedic back in 1971. That’s been a long time ago now.  The thought of being a student again at my age...”

 

“You can do it, Pops. I know you can.  You’ll probably ace all your classes.”

 

“I don’t know about that.”

 

“Well I do. Besides, you have to do this.  Carl would want you to. I know he would.”

 

 “Maybe.”

 

“There’s no maybe about it.  He would. I can hear him now. ‘Gage, park your skinny butt in my office and take care of things for me.’”

 

Papa smiled.  “Yeah, that’s what he’d say all right, and then he’d make a bet with me he had no chance of winning.”

 

Now it was my turn to smile.  “Yeah, he would, ‘cause no matter how many times he lost, he was always ready to try again.”

 

When my father didn’t say anything else, I reminded him, “You said you had a few things to talk to me about.”

 

“Yeah...yeah, I do. About the trip to your grandpa’s that I canceled. I--”

 

“Papa, I understand.”

 

“But I haven’t even explained anything yet.”

 

“You don’t need to,” I said firmly. “I understand.”

 

And I did.  Based on what I’d heard Papa say to Uncle Roy, and based on my own recent recognition that I wasn’t the only person who’d felt guilt - however unjust it might have been - over Carl’s passing, I knew the trip to Grandpa’s had been canceled because Papa hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate much of anything in recent weeks, let alone a holiday as festive as Christmas. As well, the news about his impending promotion to police chief also clued me in on why he’d been so preoccupied during the month of December, and why he’d probably felt this wasn’t the time for him to be gone from Eagle Harbor on vacation.

 

Before Papa could say anything else about the way our Christmas had unfolded, I said, “What’s next?”

 

“What’s next?”

 

“What else did you wanna discuss with me?”

 

“Oh.  Well, the next thing...the next thing is about...about your book.”

 

Two months ago I would have jumped in and said, “Did you change your mind?  Can I start working on it again?”  But I’d grown up a lot since Carl died, so I sat there and waited Papa out. It took him a minute before he continued.

 

“If you’ve got time, can you print it for me?  I’d like...I’d like to read it.”

 

“I’ve got time. I can do it now. But it’s not done.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I haven’t worked on it since you asked me not to.”

 

“I realize that, but I’d still like to read what you have.”

 

“Okay.”

 

I didn’t pressure my father into telling me what this request to read my book might ultimately mean. Would he tell me to return to work on it, or would he say he’d prefer I find another plot?  I wanted to finish telling that story with an urgency and desire I couldn’t describe, but like I said, I’d grown up a lot since Carl’s death, and if Papa said he’d prefer I’d settled on another plot, then I was prepared to do so, regardless of whether or not I thought he was being fair.

 

I went upstairs, turned on my computer, opened the book file, and hit the print command on the tool bar.  Thirty minutes later, I carried the manuscript downstairs.  After a brief search of the kitchen, dining room, and laundry room, I finally found my father in his office.  I handed him the stack of pages.

 

“Here.”

 

“Thanks. Shut the door on your way out, okay?”

 

I hesitated a moment, uncertain as to how to interpret his mood, then said, “Sure,” and did as he asked. 

 

I watched a movie, then went into the kitchen and rummaged around in the fridge until I’d collected a smorgasbord of leftovers comprised from meals Clarice had made for us that week.  I filled a plate with everything from roast beef to spaghetti to chicken and rice to a dinner roll, and warmed the food in the microwave.  I put various pans and casserole dishes in the oven for Papa, and set it on Warm.  I had no idea if he realized it was suppertime, but some instinct told me not to disturb him. 

 

When I finished eating, I put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher, then lingered outside Papa’s office door for a minute.  I could see light spilling from underneath it, but I couldn’t hear anything – which would make sense if he was reading, as opposed to talking on the phone or working on his computer.  I finally turned away and headed up the stairs to my room.  I grabbed the book from my nightstand that I’d been reading.  I sat on my bed, pulled my pillows from beneath the quilt and propped them against the headboard, leaned back, opened the book to the place I’d left off, and started reading.

 

It was ten o’clock when I heard my father walking up the stairs.  He poked his head in my open doorway, and when he saw I was awake, walked in.  He was carrying the manuscript in his right hand. He placed it on my computer desk, and turned to face me. His command was quiet but firm.

 

“Finish it.”

 

“You mean that?”

 

“Yeah. I do.”

 

I couldn’t help but grin as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge of my mattress. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For asking you to stop working on it. You were right when you told me I wasn’t being fair.”

 

“You...I understand now that you had your reasons.”

 

Papa nodded, but didn’t say anything else.  I realized he was leaving a lot unspoken, and not all of it had to do with Evan Crammer or Scott Monroe.  Some of it had to do with Kent Stone, the man who’d murdered my father’s wife, Kim, and their baby daughter, Jessie, in 1967.  The publicity the Crammer case attracted in 1978 brought Stone, a fugitive from justice, out of hiding.  He stalked my father for weeks, then tried to kill him.  My enthusiasm for my book had caused me to lose sight of all the reasons why a plot involving Evan Crammer would not be an easy one for Papa to be a part of - either as the person the book was based on, or as a reader. 

 

When my father spoke again, he said simply, “You’re a very talented writer.”

 

“I’m only seventeen.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. You have a lot of talent. Put it to good use.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Papa shrugged. “Whatever you want it ta’ mean.  Only you can decide.”

 

I was left uncertain as to what he was getting at, but let the subject drop. I looked up at him, not sure how to ask my next question.

 

“I’ve...I’ve never told Mom that I quit working on the book.  She’s waiting for me to send her some more chapters to review.”

 

“Then I guess you’d better get writing.”

 

“I know.  I will.  But I wanted to ask you...uh... when the book’s done, before...before I turn it into Mrs. St. Clair, would you...”

 

“Would I what?”

 

“Would you...uh...well, would you read it all the way through for me?”

 

The look on Papa’s face told me it was hard for him to agree to my proposal, but his answer came without hesitation.

 

“Sure. I’ll be happy too.”

 

I knew just how difficult it was for him to say that, so I smiled again. “Thanks a lot.”

 

“You’re welcome a lot.”

 

He reached out and laid a hand on the side of my face. Neither of us said anything as he gazed down at me, but in that moment, I saw his mind taking him back to the afternoon I was born, and then reliving, in bits and pieces, the seventeen and a half years that had gone by since then.

 

Papa let his hand drop to my shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, said, “Good night,” and left the room.

 

“Good night, Pops,” I called as he headed down the stairs to the kitchen to eat supper. 

 

After Papa left, I stood, shut my door, and walked over to my computer.  I opened my book file and began reading in order to refresh my memory as to where I’d left off, and where I was headed with the next chapter.

 

Other than taking time out for this journal entry, every spare minute I’ve had since Friday night I’ve written non-stop on my book.  School resumes tomorrow, meaning I’m really going to have to cram in order to get the book done and turned into Mrs. St. Clair by April first.  When I think of all my other obligations – homework, my job, the hockey team, the student council, the school newspaper – my head starts to spin and I break out in a cold sweat, because I don’t see how I’m going to manage to keep up with it all, plus write a book. But then I think of how hard my father fought on two different occasions to keep himself and a young girl alive when they were caught in the hands of a serial killer.  When I remind myself of that, I walk away with a new resolve and know that somehow, I’ll get through this. After all, I am John Gage’s son. If even half of his perseverance has rubbed off on me, then I know I can weather any storm that comes my way as long as I put my mind to it.

 

It feels good to be writing my book again. Real good. I’m still going to be a doctor, but I have to admit, I sure like to write.

 

Sunday, May 30th, 2010

(Memorial Weekend)

 

     I feel like I’ve neglected an old faithful friend the past five months.  I haven’t had time to write in my journal since the entry I made on January third.  A lot has happened since then.  One of the best things that happened is Jake came back to school on February first. Until March, he used a cane to get around, but now he’s doing pretty well without it.  He still has a slight limp, but Jake’s doctor thinks he’ll overcome that if he continues to work hard in physical therapy, and continues to do the exercises at home that his physical therapist assigned him.  Jake isn’t shying away from that hard work, because he hasn’t changed his mind about wanting to be a firefighter/paramedic, and still plans to attend the technical college in Juneau come September.

 

     I added to my workload by volunteering to go to Jake’s house during January and tutor him so he’d stay caught up with his classes.  He didn’t want to have to repeat his senior year.  I didn’t want him to repeat his senior year either.  We started kindergarten together, so it wouldn’t seem right to graduate without Jake on the stage with me.

 

     My father started his new responsibilities in January.  Everyone in Eagle Harbor seems happy that Papa was named Chief of Police. He’s gotten a lot of support, both from the town’s people, and from his police and fire department staffs, so I know he’s going to do just fine.  He’s put in a lot of long hours at the station this year, but I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly noticed. When hockey season ended, our school’s baseball season started.  I barely had a break between the two sports.  Then there was the usual stuff like homework, the school paper, my job with Gus, animal chores, writing my book, and whatever else has come my way as my senior year glides toward a close.  Even with as busy as Pops has been, he always made it to my hockey matches, and has attended all my baseball games.  I think he was a little worried that I’d feel neglected given all the time he’s putting in at the station, but I keep reminding him I’m old enough to understand things have changed for him, just like they’re going to change for me when I head to college in the fall.

 

     Clarice still cooks and cleans for us, and still stays at our house overnight when Pops works a twenty-four hour shift. Carl’s death has been so hard on her, which is why she likes to keep busy.  She’s happy that she got to stay in the house she and Carl had shared, and she’s told me more than once that she knows the Police and Fire Commission picked the best man to replace Carl when they picked my father for the job.

 

     “Carl would be proud of your papa, Trevor,” Clarice said to me one day shortly after the new year began. “He loved his job. He’d be happy to know someone he thought so much of took it over, and will keep things running smoothly.”

 

     Clarice has also been busy spearheading the efforts to raise money that will assist Gus with replacing his helicopter.  The fire department wants another air ambulance, and though Gus had the chopper insured, additional funds will be needed in order to have the new helicopter outfitted with the necessary radio and medical equipment.  Clarice volunteered to help Gus in any way she could, and so far, the people of Eagle Harbor have been generous with their donations.  Gus has promised my father that a new helicopter (well, new to us, though probably somewhat old in years) will be ready to serve Eagle Harbor’s paramedics by the end of this year.

 

     Things remained uncomfortable between Kylee and me during the winter months. Since our class is so small, it was impossible to avoid one another, which only made things tenser between us.  I started dating Jake’s little sister, Amber, in February, but it was more to have a girl to hang out with when I got together with Jake and the twins and their girlfriends, than it was because I had any strong feelings for her.  I like Amber, but not in the way I liked Kylee.  I guess that was the reason I thought of her as a good date for a night of pizza with the guys and their girlfriends, or when all of us went to the movies, but it was also the reason why I never took her on a date that was just the two of us.  I didn’t want to hurt Amber’s feelings by making her think I was serious about her, when I really wasn’t. It worked out okay.  Because Amber’s a freshman, her parents weren’t too crazy about the idea of her dating anyway, so they limited our time together to group dates, which was fine with me.

 

     It was the end of March when Kylee and I bumped into one another – literally - outside of Hayward’s Grocery Store.  She was coming out of the store carrying a plastic bag that held lunch meat, bread, and Chips Ahoy cookies, and I was walking in because Papa had asked me to pick up a couple of gallons of milk on my way home from school. Neither Kylee nor I were paying attention to what we were doing. When I felt my body impact with someone else’s, I took a quick step back and said, “I’m sorry.  I shoulda’ been watching where I was...”

 

     I never got the word “going” out.  I looked into Kylee’s face as she too, cut-off the apology she’d started to make.

 

     I felt as awkward and shy as I had the first time I’d asked her out. “Uh...uh, hi.”

 

     The half-smile she gave me was uncertain and tentative.

 

     “H...hi.”

 

As though we didn’t see one another in school five days a week, I asked, “How...how’ve you been?”

 

     “Fine...just fine. How about you?”

     “Okay.  Fine. I’m doin’ all right.”

 

     Her smile seemed more genuine when she said, “I’m gla...glad to hear that.”

 

     People were circling around us, so we moved as one from the automatic doors to the sidewalk.

 

     “How’re your folks and Chandler?”

 

     “Good. Chandler misses you.”

 

     “I miss him too.  Maybe...maybe I could stop by sometime and tell him hi...when your mom and pops are home,” I hastily added.

 

”Sure. That would be nice. He’d like to see you.”

 

I cast about for something that would keep the conversation going.  “So...uh...did you decide what college you’re goin’ to?”

 

“Yeah. The University of Florida in Orlando.”

 

“Oh...that’s...that’s great,” I said, while trying to hide my disappointment.  The last I had known, Kylee’s first choice had been Anchorage University, so we could attend college together.  Her paternal grandparents had retired to Florida in 2007, and lived in Orlando. Kylee had visited them several times in the past three years, and I knew she liked Florida in a way I could never imagine liking any state but Alaska.

 

“My parents are comfortable with it since Grandpapa and Grandma only live about a thirty minute drive from the campus.”

 

“Are you gonna stay with your grandparents?”

 

“For my freshman year. Papa was pretty firm about it, even though I’d rather live in a dorm.  But he says if things go well, then I can live on campus when I’m a sophomore.”

 

“He’s just worried about you.  Florida’s a long way from home.”

 

“I know. It’s okay.  I’m not upset about it.”

 

A cold wind was blowing, making it uncomfortable to talk out in the open. I jerked my head toward Donna’s.

 

“Wanna get something to eat with me at Donna’s?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yeah, now.”

 

She chewed on her lower lip a moment.

 

Please say yes, I thought.  Please say yes.

 

“Well...okay. But I need to be home before six.  Mom’s with Chandler at his Cub Scout meeting. If I’m not home before they are she’ll wonder where I’m at.”

 

“All right.”

 

We walked down the street to the diner, where we ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and Cokes.  Our conversation remained stilted while we ate, but once our empty plates were pushed aside conversation came easier. 

 

 

April first was just three days away then.  Because of that, Kylee’s first question was, “Have you finished your book?”

 

“Just barely, but yeah, it’s done.”

“Have you turned it in yet?”