I know they called you the miracle man after you got better. But just so you know, I considered you a miracle from the moment you came into Lizzie’s life. And I know she felt the same way. You got a second chance of sorts, son, so you live your life good and well. And Lizzie will be waiting for you when your time has run too. And I’ll probably come by for a cup of coffee myself. Until then, keep hugging those precious children and take care of yourself.
Love,
Jack slid the letter back in his pocket, drew a long breath, and wiped his eyes. Even though he had never been to this place before, he felt like he’d just come home. He rose, took off his shoes, and jogged out toward the water to be with his kids. When they were tired out and headed inside for a late dinner, Jack stayed behind, walking along the beach as the sun dropped into the horizon, burning the sky down to fat mounds of pinks and reds. The warm waters of the Atlantic washed over his feet. He stared out to sea, one of his hands absently feeling for the letter in his pocket. It had been a good first day.
“Hey, Dad!”
He turned to see Cory frantically waving to him from the rear screen porch.
He waved back. “Yeah, bud?”
“Jackie turned the hose on.”
“Uhhh... okay?”
“After he dragged the other end in the house.”
Jack started to walk fast to the Palace. “In the house? Where’s Sammy?”
“In the bathroom with a magazine.”
Jack started to jog. “Where’s Mikki?”
Cory shook his head helplessly. “Dunno.”
Jack started to run faster as he yelled, “Well, can’t you turn the hose off or pull it out of the house?”
“I would, but the little knobby thing came off in my hand and Jackie won’t let go of the end of the hose. He’s a lot stronger than he looks.” Cory’s eyes grew a little wider. “Is it bad that stuff’s starting to float, Dad?”
Oh, crap.
Jack started to sprint, rooster tails of sand thrown up behind him. “Jackie!”
My three precious children. This one’s for you, Cecilia.
23
The next day, while Sammy stayed with the other kids, Jack and Mikki drove in the pickup truck to the hardware store in downtown Channing, about three miles from the beach house. Along the way, they reached a stretch of oceanfront that was lined with magnificent homes, estates really, thought Jack. There was serious money down here. If he could catch some work from some of these wealthy folks, it might really be good.
Mikki said, “Are those like condo buildings?”
“They’re mansions. This is prime beachfront property here. Those places are worth millions each.”
“What a waste. I mean, who needs that much room?” she said derisively.
He glanced at her. “Are you feeling better about things?”
“No.”
As they passed one house that was even larger than the others, a teenage girl came out into the cobblestone driveway dressed in a bikini top and tiny shorts with the words HUG ’EM printed on the backside. She was blond and tanned and had the elegant bone structure of a model. She climbed into a Mercedes convertible about the same time a tall, lean, tousled-haired young man came hustling up the drive. He had on wakeboard shorts and a tank top. He hopped in the passenger seat, and the car roared off, pulling in front of their old truck and causing Jack to nearly run off the road.
Mikki rolled down the window and yelled, “Jerks!”
The girl made an obscene gesture.
“Catch up to them, Dad; I want to kick her butt.”
“Since when did you develop such anger issues, my little miss sunshine?”
“What are—” She stopped when she saw him smiling.
She muttered, “Shut up.”
They reached Channing and climbed out of the truck. Jack had on jeans and a white T-shirt and sneakers. Mikki was dressed in knee-length cotton shorts and a black T-shirt. Her skin was pale, and her hair was now partially green and purple. His daughter’s supply of hair colors seemed endless.
Mikki looked around as Jack checked his list of supplies.
“Looks like something right out of Nick at Nite,” she said. “Pretty old-fashioned place.”
Jack looked around and had to admit, it was a little like stepping back in time. The streets were wide and clean and the storefronts well maintained. The shops were mostly mom-and-pops. No big-box retailers here, it seemed. A bank, grocery, large hardware store, barber’s shop with a striped pole, restaurants, an ice cream parlor, and a sheriff’s station with one police cruiser parked in front were all in his line of sight. They also saw a public library with a sign out front that advertised free Wi-Fi service inside.
Mikki said, “Well, at least we can get online here.”
People walked by in shorts and sandals; some of the older ladies had scarves around their heads. One elderly gent had on seersucker shorts, white socks, and white sandals. Others rode bikes with wicker baskets attached to the fronts. A few people had dogs on leashes, and some kids ran up and down the street. Everyone was very tanned. There was also a sense of prosperity here. Most of the cars parked along the street were late-model luxury sedans or high-dollar convertibles. Some had out-of-state license plates, but most were from South Carolina. But then Jack noted dented and dirty pickup trucks and old Fords and Dodges rolling down the street. The people in those vehicles looked more like he did, Jack thought. Working stiffs.
They passed a shabby-looking building with a marquee out front that read, CHANNING PLAY HOUSE. An old man was sweeping the pavement in front of the double-door entrance. Next to the entrance was a glass ticket window. The man stopped sweeping and greeted them.
“What’s the Channing Play House?” Jack asked.
“Back in its day it was one of the finest regional theater houses in the low country,” said the man, who introduced himself as Ned Parker.
“Regional theater?” said Jack.
Parker nodded. “We had shows come all the way down from New York City to perform. Singers, dancers, actors; we had it all.”
“And now?” Jack said.
“Well, we still have the occasional performance, but it’s nowhere near what it used to be. Too many video games and big-budget movies.” He pointed at Mikki. “From your generation, missy.”
Mikki pointed to the marquee, which read, CHANNING TALENT COMPETITION. “What’s that?”
“Hold it every year in August. Folks compete. Any age and any act. Baton, dancing, fiddling, singing. Lot of fun. It’s a hundred-dollar prize and your picture in the Channing Gazette.”
They continued on, and Jack and Mikki went to the local, well-stocked hardware store and purchased what they needed. A young man who worked at the store helped Jack load the items. Jack noticed that the boy was giving Mikki far more attention than he was Jack. He stepped between the young man and his daughter. “Some of this stuff won’t fit in my truck bed,” Jack pointed out.
Before the helper could answer, a stocky man in his seventies with snow-white hair strolled out. He was dressed in pleated khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt with the hardware store’s name and logo on it.