The Long Journey to Jake Palmer (23 page)

Maybe he hadn't joined ROTC, or gone to work in Alaska on a fish processor, or taken that internship with his dad's integrity-deprived friend down in Texas, but he'd built the doghouse the way his dad wanted.

“Did you hear me, Jaker?” His dad chuckled, hands on hips.

“Sorry, Dad. What was that?”

“You heard, or if you didn't, time to get the wax out of your ears.” His dad gave him a lopsided smile.

“I might need to get some wax out.”

The smile didn't leave his dad's face, but his eyes were ice. “What I said was, pretty good might be fine for some people, but not for the Palmers. You need to pay attention to your work, Jaker. You can't be sloppy, can't be goofing off.” He pointed at the structure. “That's nothing you could ever be proud of.”

Jake pointed at the doghouse. “Are you serious? That—”

“Don't say something you'll later regret there, pard.” His dad waved his hand over the doghouse. “Tear 'er apart. Let's go again.”

Jake rebuilt the house. Again it wasn't good enough. After the
third time of tearing apart and rebuilding the doghouse, accompanied by his dad's third berating, Jake broke.

“It's just a doghouse,” he growled at his dad. “And it's as near perfect as is possible.”

“Nope.” His dad waggled his finger. “That's where you're dead wrong, Jaker. It's much more than a doghouse. You're off by a centimeter on this doghouse, it sets you up to be off a centimeter in life. And a centimeter doesn't sound like much when you're ten, but if you keep being off by a centimeter, by the time you're thirty, you're off by miles. Let's go again.”

By the seventh time they'd torn the structure apart and rebuilt it, Jake's hands ached like he'd never known. His eyes burned, and the skin of his knees was so tender he couldn't put any weight on them. But he was done. His dad approved Jake's seventh attempt.

Jake shook his dad's hand to say good-bye as he'd done since he was six years old, then wobbled down the tiny trail that led back to the main path. He'd told himself his dad would be more challenging than being enough for his mom. Obviously he was more right than he imagined. Which did not bode well for what was next. Sienna.

A
s he shuffled down the path, Jake rubbed his hands, trying to bring some life back into them, and at the same time trying to guess what he would have to do for Sienna. Jake had always been there for her. Believed in her dreams of becoming a clothing designer. Encouraged her during the lean years.
Don't give up, it's coming, it's coming.
And when success finally rained down on her, he soaked it in with her. Flowers, trips, surprise birthday parties. Their marriage had cracks like any marriage, but nothing even close to major. He'd been everything she wanted him to be. He'd been more than enough. As Jake strode up the path, he scoured his brain for what he hadn't done. There had to be something to make right.

Should be a path leading to her house coming up.
There. Thirty yards ahead. He broke into a jog, his knees tender but already feeling better, reached the trail, and slowed to a quick walk. After forty or fifty feet of a gently winding path bordered by pine trees, the trees gave way to a house that sat on top of a two-story boulder. Smooth. No apparent way up. Part of the challenge? Or symbolic? It didn't matter. Jake would find a way up.

He clipped around to the right, running his tender fingers along the surface of the boulder. Nothing. Still smooth, but when he reached the back, he found slots cut into the rock at four- and five-feet intervals. Not easy. Impossible to do with his burnt legs, but in here he would make it, even with them aching from kneeling on the grass for the past five hours. He was more worried about his hands. No clue if he had enough strength in them. Time to find out.

The first slot in the boulder was cut ten feet above him. Jake stepped back five paces, then dug his shoes into the green turf and propelled himself forward at a dead sprint. He leaped up and planted his foot hard on the boulder, praying it would hold. It did, and he launched himself upward.
Stretch hard. Yes!
He grabbed the cut in the rock, then found an imperfection to his right. He tested it with his shoe. Solid. He pushed off again and reached the cut twelve feet up.

From there the boulder flattened to forty-five degrees and the cuts were spaced out evenly every three feet. Jake easily navigated the remaining section of the boulder and stood panting on top, staring back the way he'd come. He couldn't see the spot where his dad was, but his mom's house was just visible through a break in the trees. As he stared at it, it shimmered, then slowly melted into nothing. Yes. Confirmation. It was over. Hope rose inside Jake, and with it, renewed energy. He'd done it. Fixed things with his mom. Same with his dad. Now, the final piece. Sienna.
Deep breath. No time to hesitate.
He pushed open the front door, his heart hammering, and stepped inside.

Sienna sat nestled on a green leather couch, the one they'd
bought together right after getting married. Her feet were up on a coffee table Jake didn't recognize.

“Hey, sweetie,” Sienna said.

Jake stood in the entryway and tried to stay calm. It was their house exactly as it had been a week before he'd been burned. A house he hadn't stepped inside for over a year. All the old memories, the good memories, buried him in an avalanche of emotion.

“You okay?”

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”

The words slipped out before Jake could stop them, but if they confused Sienna, she didn't show it.

“Then let me assist.” She patted the couch. “You're supposed to come over here, sit down, and give me a long, passionate kiss.”

He stared at her as he shuffled forward, not knowing how to ask what he could do to make things right.

Sienna looked up from her book and set it aside. “You okay?” she said again.

Of course this moment wouldn't be current day. Just as the scenes with his mom and dad had been set in the past, this one would be too.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“Then why do you have a look on your face like you haven't stepped foot in this place for a year and haven't seen me in even longer?”

“It's hard to explain.”

“Then don't. Get over here and give me a kiss.” She smiled wide and patted the couch again.

Jake didn't move, his feet frozen to the black stone floor. “We're good. You and me. We're good.”

“Good?” Sienna stood. “No, we're not good. Not good, not good, not good. We're fantastic.”

She picked up a remote from their glass coffee table and pointed it at the fireplace, and flames appeared. “For a bit of ambience.”

Jake ignored the repulsion the sight of the flames sent through him. “I have to ask you a question.”

“Sure.” She sauntered over to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Anything.”

“In our life together, where have I not been enough for you?”

“What?” Sienna pulled away, took two steps back, and scrunched up her face. “What are you talking about? You've always been enough for me.”

“I'm serious, Sienna. I need to know this. Where have I let you down? Where haven't I come through?”

“You want to know? You really want to know?”

“Please.”

She stuck out her hip and pointed at him with mock anger on her face. “I've asked you two times now for a kiss, and you've turned me down both times. There. There's where you've let me down. Not been even close to enough.”

“Sienna, please.”

Her hips swayed from side to side as she came back to him, sliding her arms around his neck again. “You are really kind to ask, but there's nothing. You've been everything I've ever dreamed of.”

Jake wished she were kidding, but this Sienna was serious.
Where could he go from here? If there was no problem, there was no solution, and he was in a stalemate.

“Let me ask you something else then.”

“Sure.” She motioned toward the green couch. “But could we sit while you ask me?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

She took his hand and Jake fought the part of him that screamed this was real. It wasn't. It was only a test. And he would not fail.

As soon as they settled onto the couch, Sienna pulled her knees up on the cool, green leather and stroked Jake's hair. “Okay, sweetie. Ask away.”

“If I was in a fire, and I was burned—my torso, my feet, legs, everything from my stomach down—would you still love me?”

“That's never going to happen.”

“But if it did.”

“Of course I'd still love you.”

“I need you to think about this.”

“I love you, Jake.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “You. What's inside. The outside, too, of course. I mean, you're gorgeous, but I love
you
.” Sienna frowned. “Why don't you tell me why you're asking all these strange questions?”

Jake stared at her for only a second before agreeing. Why not? Maybe if he told her the story, he'd figure out what it was he had to make right. When he finished, she smiled and then a contemplative look came over her face.

“If I could believe, even for a moment, what you're saying—which of course I can't—then I'd tell you exactly what you should do.”

“All right.”

“You got what you wanted. Your body restored.” She pointed at his torso and legs, then opened her arms wide and glanced around the room. “And you have this, all back. And me. Right here.”

She took his face and brought their noses together. “So if you have everything you've ever wanted, why would you leave?”

“I can't stay here.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn't work that way.” He got up and moved to the back of the room, where a picture window overlooked a parkland, and kept his back to Sienna.

“Why not? How do you know? Did you ask your lying, backstabbing pal Ryan? Have you met someone who tried to stay but couldn't?”

Jake's conversation with Leonard flooded into his mind. Leonard had wanted to stay. Suddenly Sienna's question wasn't insane. Could he stay? Was that what Ryan meant? That the healing would remain if he passed the test, which meant staying indefinitely in the meadow? Was it even possible? And what did that mean for everyone on the other side? Did time stop here forever?

The questions melted away as he turned and stared at Sienna, as beautiful as she'd ever been. The thought of taking her in his arms and feeling the rush of her lips on his filled him. In that moment there was nothing he wanted more. He'd been restored, and this would be the crown jewel in his celebration. Jake moved toward her, a smile on his face, and she began to move toward him.

But just before they reached each other, the truth, unbidden, filled him like the sun breaking through a cloud-soaked summer
afternoon. Even though every emotion inside him shouted it was right, staying here with Sienna could not have been more wrong. Jake held up his fingers to stop Sienna from sliding into his arms.

“No, I can't let this happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

He stared at her and let a puff of surprise seep out of his mouth. “I thought you would be the hardest by far, and in a way you are, but not in the way I expected. The hard part is to not choose you.

“But being enough for you? Fixing things now? There's nothing to fix, is there? I
was
enough for you. I gave you everything I had, gave you my whole heart, and until I was burned, it was enough. But it's okay, because I left nothing on the table.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There's nothing to take out of here except the choice to live in the truth.”

“What truth are you talking about?”

“My body was burned, Sienna, whether you believe it or not. It happened. And you rejected me because of it. If I stayed here with you, I would always know that. Know I was living a lie. I came here today to fight for the truth, and that's what I'm going to do. Because I think that was the final test. As much as I wished things could go back to the way they were, the test was to choose the truth instead. It's over. And I've won.”

Jake strode toward the door as a smile broke out on his face, followed by laughter. He'd done it.

“Jake! Come back here. Jake!”

Just before walking through the door, he turned his smile to her. “I wish you a good life, Sienna.”

By the time Jake reached the ground at the back of the boulder, he was almost giddy. He'd done it, faced his mom, faced his dad, most of all, faced Sienna. And now, to get back through the corridor and leave this place forever.

As he strode around the back of the boulder and onto the trail, he clenched his fists in victory. And then, before he was halfway back to the main path, Ryan stepped into view.

R
yan clapped slowly. Each time his hands came together they sounded like a shot, the smirk on his face mocking Jake even before he reached the main path.

“Well done, Jacob.”

“It's over, Ryan.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Ryan cocked his head as if listening, then held up a finger. “Wait. Wait. Maybe not quite finished.”

A voice, not distinguishable, called out from a long ways away. A second later, the voice grew in strength. By the time five seconds had passed, Jake knew who it was.

Ryan jerked his thumb down the trail. “If I'm not mistaken, that sounds like your father calling.”

“No. Don't play mind games. I finished that.”

Ryan frowned as Jake's dad's voice grew louder. “Apparently not.”

“What are you doing?”

“I'm doing nothing. This is about what you need to do. That, and that alone.”

“Don't mess with me, Ryan.” Jake brought his fists up to chest level.

Ryan peered at Jake's fists and laughed. “There's no need to think of violence. I speak the truth when I agree you were enough for Sienna and that you chose wisely. Congratulations. That part is finished. However, it doesn't appear you're quite finished with your dad.”

Jake glared at Ryan and strode toward his father. As he reached the small trail off the main path, his dad's voice boomed through the woods like a cannon.

“Jaker, where are you, pard? Let's get this done!”

Jake jogged down the path, which ended in the same exact place as last time. The perfect doghouse stood where he'd left it, on the edge of his dad's perfect lawn. His dad stood on the deck off the back of the house, hands on hips, a sarcastic smile on his face. As soon as he saw Jake, he pulled open the screen door and stepped inside.

Jake crossed the lawn in five strides, reached the back of the porch, bounded up on the deck, and pushed into the kitchen. His father sat at the far end of the kitchen table, his arms folded. A sheet of yellowed paper lay in front of him next to a red folder.

“Go on ahead and sit down, Jaker, do you mind?”

Jake stood at the end of the table and gritted his teeth against the sickly sweet tone his dad used to ask questions that were not in fact questions.

“What's wrong, Dad?” There was no reason to sit until he knew what he had to do this time.

“Could you go on and grab yourself a chunk of chair there,
Jaker?” His dad extended his hand toward the chair, his eyes like ice.

Jake mashed his lips together to keep from screaming, then said, “What do you want from me?”

“Whadda we have right here?” His father held up the paper and snapped his finger against it.

“I don't know.”

“I think you do know, so go ahead and take a bit more of a peek.”

Jake leaned forward and squinted at the paper and he knew what it was. Knew why his dad was upset. This same scene had played out in fourth grade, eighth grade, and his junior year in high school.

“Let me fix it.” Jake remained standing. “What do you want me to do?”

Wide smile. Arctic eyes. “I want you to sit down, right now. That's what I want you to do.”

Jake sat, elbows on the table, legs twitching.

“Let's go ahead and remove those elbows from the table, why don't we? That's not the way Palmers sit at the table, is it?”

Jake pulled his arms into his lap. No shame. He wouldn't allow his mind to go there. Just get this done. Jake repeated the question. “What do you want me to do?”

“Your report card.” His dad snapped the paper again. “Says here you got two B-minuses. That's not going to be working for anyone now, is it? Nope, not in a million years. How are you ever going to be enough for a college to take a serious look at you if you can't be enough in grade school?”

Jake glanced at the table's shadow on the kitchen floor. It seemed like it was reaching out to choke him and he swallowed hard. Play the game. Tell him what he needed to hear. Fix it. Be enough.

“I'm sorry, Dad. I messed up. Didn't study hard enough. I won't disappoint you again, I promise. What can I do to make it up to you?” His dad opened the red folder and pulled out two sheets of white paper. He slid them over to Jake, then tossed him a pencil.

“You're going to take a little test I made up. And if you get any of the answers wrong, you're going to study, then take another test. We're going to do this till you get it right. Put your name on the test, upper right corner on top of the thick line.”

Jake snatched up the pencil and started to write his name, but he pressed too hard, snapped off the tip of the pencil, and the shame he'd promised to ignore washed over him. He looked up at his dad without lifting his head.

“Here you go, Jaker.” His dad tossed him a pencil sharpener. “Ease up on the pressure there. We don't need to be wasting any of that pencil now, do we?”

Jake blew out a breath from between his teeth as he sharpened the pencil and looked at the questions. Jake fought against the emotions screaming that he was eleven years old again, disappointing his father for not making straight As. He wasn't eleven and this was his chance to fix the past. Had to push through the shame, dig deep, get through it.

The questions were for a fifth grader. He buzzed through them and pushed the paper back at his father. His dad took less than a minute to check Jake's answers. He looked up at Jake but
didn't speak. He didn't have to. The tight smile across his face shouted plenty loud.

“One wrong, Jaker. Let's try again.”

As his dad pulled another sheet out of the folder, Jake couldn't hold his tongue.

“I'm not a kid,” he muttered to himself. “This is ridiculous.”

“What did you say?”

Jake's face went hot. How could his dad have heard that?

“You think this is ridiculous? Hmm. Don't believe I'm able to agree with that assessment of your situation, Jake. In fact, I'm not going to believe that sentiment came out of your mouth. No sirree. That would make you stupid. And I don't think my son is stupid, not for a second.”

“No, I'm not.”

“And you are a kid, Jake. You might think being eleven makes you a man, but it doesn't. Got it?”

Jake nodded.

“I want to hear the words. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I'm sorry, Dad. I understand you.”

“I'm helping you here, Jake. You get in the habit of getting good grades now, it will stay with you the rest of your life. But if you don't figure it out, it'll dog you till the day you die.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Three tests later, Jake got all the answers right.

“Good work, Jaker.” His dad rose from his end of the table, came over to Jake, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now that wasn't so bad, was it?”

“No, Dad.”

“Okay then, head on out the door and we'll see you at supper.”

Jake nodded but didn't look up. At least this was grade school and not high school or college. He'd fixed things this time, but what about the other three times he didn't get straight As?

“Are there any other tests, Dad?” Jake stood. “Any others, or is this it?”

“The only one.”

Jake pushed through the kitchen door onto the deck and didn't look back. Last test? Maybe. But Jake shuddered as he strode back down the path with the thought it wasn't close to the last fix he would have to make.

He reached the main trail and jogged back down it toward the path to Sienna's house. When he reached it, he started down the tinier path, but stopped halfway down and looked up through the trees. Where he'd expected to find the boulder with their old house on top of it, there was only sky.

Hope surged inside. He truly had fixed that one. He'd fixed his mom. Maybe this last go-around with his dad really was enough. If only he was dumb enough to believe it.

Two minutes later he reached the path that led to where his mom's home had stood. He slowed, then came to a retched halt when a familiar groan floated down the path toward him. Jake shuffled down the trail to find his mom's home had reappeared. Hell's version of déjà vu. When he reached her bedroom, a twisted cackle sputtered out of her mouth.

“I'm glad you came when you did, Jakey. If you hadn't shown up, well, let's just say I don't think I would have been here to greet you if you'd come any later.”

“Don't do this, Mom. You promised. We fixed this.”

“When did we fix this?” Jake's mom frowned. “Fixed what?”

“I was just here. You promised.”

“You haven't been here in ages, Jakey.” She peered up at him, confusion bathing her face. “But you can do something to help me right now. Please?”

“What, Mom?” Jake asked, even though he knew what was coming.

“Will you sing me that song you used to sing? You know the one, don't you, Jakey?”