26. Jack
JACK’S MIND KEPT WANDERING BACK TO THE CANDY STORE, TO Pickles, and to Teddy’s tanned legs and bouncy ponytail. Since he had met Teddy, thoughts of Angela were less frequent. He didn’t want to lose Angela, not after all this time. But he needed flesh and blood, he knew that now.
He stopped for shrimp at the bait shop and picked Pete up for the fishing trip. A good day of surf fishing would be just the thing to sort things out.
At the beach, wind whipped at the waves, sending spray spewing into the air. The wind blew Pete’s long hair so that the strands of gray waved like silver fish in the surf. Pete said the water roiled too much for surf fishing, but neither one of them wanted to scrap the trip.
Jack threaded a shrimp onto his hook and tossed the line into the surf. He planted his pole in a holder and settled into a chair next to Pete. “This is the life.”
“Glad you think so. After that health scare, I’m happy to be looking at anything. But this is the most beautiful thing in the world.” Pete buried his toes in the sand like a little kid who hadn’t been to the beach before.
“You’re good for another fifty thousand miles.”
“Hope you’re right. I’m not the kind of guy who trades in a car at a hundred thousand miles. Hope the guy upstairs,” Pete lifted his head to the sky, “feels the same way.” Pete pitched him a can of sparkling water in a foam “I’d Rather Be Fishing” koozie. “I hope water is okay.”
“Proud of you, man.” He pulled the tab on the can.
“Talked to Dot last night.”
“Oh.” He tried acting casual.
“You ever been married?”
“My wife died five years ago.” He always hated the sympathy that often accompanied the news of his wife.
“Sorry to hear that,” Pete said. “Kids?”
“No.” A simple no usually stopped this predictable line of questioning. He jerked, reeled his line, then cast the bait back into the wild surf. He wanted to hear what happened with Dot, but he needed to concentrate on his line. Fishing in the surf required different skills than fishing in the lake, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Pete.
“You know Brooke?”
He stiffened. “Your daughter?”
Pete’s eyes widened. “Was I the last to know?”
He searched his mind for something smart to say. “Seems like a nice girl.”
“She is now. Wait until she finds out about me.” Pete tossed a rock toward a flock of gulls. “What if she’s pissed? Scratch that. She’s bound to be pissed.”
“Don’t borrow trouble. I imagine it’s time she found out, don’t you think?”
“It’s past time as far as I’m concerned. She’ll think I’m a lowlife who wouldn’t take care of his own daughter. But I didn’t know about her.” Pete paused, kicked the sand, and then buried his toes again. “But even if I had known . . .” Pete’s words trailed off as he shook his head.
“It’s a tough one. Figuring out women is bad enough. Now you’ve got a daughter.”
“I’ve made a mess of my life.” Pete stared at the Gulf.
Jack resisted the urge to argue with him. But what can you say to someone you barely know who just found out he has a sixteen-year-old daughter? Congratulations? Here’s a cigar. Jack chugged his water so long the gulp made a heavy lump in his chest.
“I figure most messes can be cleaned up.” Jack felt a tiny bit of pride for thinking up such a profound response.
Pete tugged at his fishing pole, released the line, and then jerked the rod. “Got a fighter here. Maybe a black drum. They are not good to eat, but they’ll give you a fun fight. You’ve got to give them plenty of line.”
“Like women.” He chuckled.
“You got that right.” Pete kept a strong grip on the pole.
The fish twisted and flapped on the line. The body curved into a crescent shape and scales gleamed in iridescent hues while the fish flopped ferociously. At first, Jack thought Pete would lose his catch. But Pete knew just when to pull and just when to add line. After ten minutes or so, he reeled the catch to the shore. He left the drum slapping on the sand while he grabbed a pair of gloves to unhook it.
After removing the hook, Pete threw his prize back into the Gulf and said, “About the only thing I know how to do is fish.”
“You made a fine catch.”
“You really think Brooke turned out all right?” Pete glanced at him.
“I do.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Be friends with her.” He gave Pete a friendly punch on the shoulder. “You can worry about the dad part later.”
“It’s not too late?”
“As long as you’re breathing, you can make things right.” Jack believed the statement to be true. Compared to Pete, he had plenty of life left in him. But Jack knew personally that life came with no guarantees.
“Maybe you, Teddy, me, and Dot could go for dinner with Brooke—no, there’s no place to eat except Dot’s.” Pete scratched his head.
Jack imagined sitting down with Pete when he revealed his true identity to Brooke. He’d rather eat at a two-day old salad bar. “You need to work this out with Dot. I don’t know anything about teenagers. And I certainly don’t know anything about women.”
“I could text her.” Pete grinned.
“She just might like that. Hey, girl, I’m your father. Thumbs-up emoji, happy face emoji, girl and dad holding hands emoji. It’s absolutely perfect. I mean totally, man.”
Pete laughed. “I could send a friend request on Facebook.”
“Kids don’t use Facebook anymore.”
“How can that be?”
“It’s been replaced by Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat.”
“That’s one fad I missed entirely while I was busy being a lowlife.” Pete slumped in his chair.
“That just means you need to move fast before you miss another one.” He spoke of his own predicament as much as Pete’s. “I’ve got some unfinished business of my own. Whatdaya say we go to the candy store? They should be finishing up right about now.”