Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the kitchen table. Jaz rubbed his eyes, blinking away the blur from staring at spreadsheets for three hours. He was used to moving, to action, not sitting still building databases.
He’d cooked the thawed steaks for lunch and pulled fish from the freezer for dinner.
The normalcy of it all felt surreal. Like he could pretend, just for a moment, that this was his real life.
That he could have this—cooking meals, working alongside someone he cared about, building something real instead of living life one step ahead of trouble.
Kenzie pushed back in her chair and stood to stretch.
He enjoyed the sight a little too much. Man, she was beautiful. And smart and brave.
What would happen when this was all over? He was a recovering gambling addict who’d lost everything. No money, no real job, no prospects. Even if he could shake off Magras’s grip, what would he become? He had literally nothing to offer her.
She tilted her head to the side. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.” He stood, too, and went to grab another bottle of water. At least he had plenty of that, if no fresh food. “Want one?”
He took two from the refrigerator as Kenzie wandered to the back door.
“I’m going to step outside.”
He followed her. When he’d first bought this house, he’d dreamed of expanding this small deck, doubling or even tripling the size of it, buying a grill, adding some outdoor furniture.
He’d done none of those things, though. The house was still decorated with the furniture it’d come with.
Except for hanging some of his own photos and bringing some clothes here, he’d done nothing to make it his.
Kenzie walked to the railing and looked out at the native bushes, some flowering. It was spectacular, if wild and out of control. She found the only spot to see the ocean from, barely a glimpse. “It’s so pretty here.”
“If I were going to stay, I’d cut down a lot of these trees to get a better view. Right now, I don’t want the house to be seen from the water.”
She shifted to face him. “It’s beautiful even without the ocean. So peaceful.”
“I like it.”
“Do you want to live here permanently? Or keep it as a vacation home?”
“I wanted to return to Driftwood and raise Charlotte. But she’s not mine anymore, so…” He shrugged. “I think I’d just be in the way now.”
“I doubt that. It would be different, though. Hard for you, I’d think, watching someone else be Charlotte’s father.”
“Yeah.”
“But you’d be with her, with them. What would you do for work?”
“No idea.”
“Anything you want to do?”
“Honestly, I haven’t been able to think past basic survival since the day I realized what I’d gotten myself into with Magras. When you don’t think you’re going to have a future, you don’t exactly let yourself dream.”
“I can see that. But before Magras, what did you want to do? You must’ve had plans.”
“Maybe. A long time ago.”
It was never quiet here. A breeze whispered through the trees. Birds called to each other. Insects buzzed. His island was constantly playing a symphony of nature.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“A personal question?”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“I got the sense, earlier…” Her words faded, and then she blurted, “How’d your father die?”
Of all the questions.
It was his turn to face the forest. He wished he could escape back into the house without answering. Could he, without making it weird between them?
No.
So, weird or honest? Not the best choices.
“He drowned.”
“Oh.” She slid her hand over his on the railing. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been a shock.”
He pulled away and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, feeling unsure of…everything.
Kenzie didn’t push, but she didn’t let him off the hook, either. Just waited for him to go on. He didn’t have to tell her anything. He could keep the truth to himself.
But he liked Kenzie, liked her a lot. He’d spent so many years with fake friendships and marginal friendships, with acquaintances who didn’t know the real him.
He and Laguerre were friends, but it wasn’t as if they shared their deepest, darkest secrets.
Jaz couldn’t remember when he’d last truly connected with another human being. Scary as it was to be honest, he wanted to tell her. If she rejected him? Well, then it had never been a real connection to begin with.
“It was my fault.” He glanced at Kenzie, seeing curiosity mixed with compassion.
“How so?”
He sighed. “I was being an idiot. Jasper being Jasper.”
“You’re not an idiot, Jaz.”
“Fine. I was being reckless. We were sailing, and I was flying across the water. My friends were handling the sails, and they weren’t experienced.
Mom and Dad were below, making lunch. I guess Dad thought we were doing something wrong—and we probably were—because he barreled upstairs, yelling at me.
Just happened to come up right when the boom was shifting. It hit him, and he went over.”
Kenzie’s eyes widened, and her hand covered her mouth. “Oh, my gosh. How awful.” She recovered from her shock and slid her fingers around his wrist.
He barely felt the touch. He was back on that sailboat, off the Virginia coast, wind in his hair, land barely visible in the distance. It was his fifteenth birthday. He was celebrating, having the time of his life. And then he heard his father’s angry voice.
He turned just in time to see Dad fly overboard.
Noah dove in after him.
Jaz couldn’t leave the helm, not without putting everyone else in danger.
Noah’s girlfriend was screaming. Jaz’s friends realized what had happened and followed Noah.
It took forever for Jaz to come around and get back to them. Ahead, he saw Noah and his friends treading water.
But Dad wasn’t there.
His father. The strongest man he’d known. Powerful, successful, kind and gentle.
Just gone.
Because of Jaz’s recklessness.
“Did you shout?” Kenzie’s question pulled him out of the memory, the yacht captain wanting to know if he’d followed protocols. “Did you warn everyone?”
“He was belowdecks. He didn’t hear.”
“But you did shout.”
He had. He knew he had, and everyone had confirmed it. As if it mattered. “He didn’t hear me.”
“Was your father not familiar with sailing?” Kenzie’s voice was gentle.
“He taught me how to sail.”
“So he knew better than to—”
“He came up because I was being reckless.”
“I get that. I also know the rush you feel when you catch the wind just right. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how fast you’re going. You’re just in the zone.”
“My father’s dead because of the zone.”
“I don’t think so. It sounds like your father died because he wasn’t paying attention. If he was a sailor—”
“You’re blaming him?” Jaz couldn’t help the way his voice rose, the anger humming on the words. “You’re blaming a dead man? A good man who should’ve lived to meet…?” He snapped his jaw shut before more emotion flew out of his mouth.
Dad would’ve loved Charlotte. He would’ve been such a good grandfather, just like he’d been a great father.
“I get it,” Kenzie said. “You’re taking the blame because he can’t defend himself.”
“I’m taking the blame because I was at the helm.”
“But your father made the decision to come on deck without looking, without wearing a life jacket.”
“One split-second decision shouldn’t end a man’s life.”
Kenzie was quiet for a long moment. He thought…feared, maybe, that he’d convinced her. That what he believed was true—he’d killed his own father.
“Funny,” she said.
Funny? He glared at her, but her expression was kind, her head tilted to one side. She was studying him.
“What?”
“You can’t bear the thought of your father’s rash decision ending his life, yet you’ve let your decision to sail that day end yours.”
“You might’ve noticed, I’m still breathing.”
“But are you living? Are you becoming the man God created you to be? Or have you spent all these years hating yourself, blaming yourself, running from that good man God created?”
Jaz wasn’t a good man.
He wasn’t. But he wanted to be. He was trying.
He looked away again, but Kenzie’s question wouldn’t be drowned out by the tropical symphony.
Who had God created Jasper to be? He’d spent half his life trying to live up to the man whose death he’d caused, believing, knowing, Dad would be disappointed in him.
He hadn’t ever considered who God wanted him to be.
He’d never been able to face what he’d done. As soon as he’d been old enough, he’d gone away to college, rarely returning home to see his mother. After her death, he just ran farther.
He drank too much, slept around, gambled. Anything to drown out the accusing voice in his head.
Running, running, running from what he’d done.
And although he’d put away all those bad habits, he was still running.
He wanted to be one kind of man, but somewhere along the way, he’d quit believing it was possible. He’d quit believing he deserved anything good.
Kenzie squeezed his hand in both of hers. “It wasn’t your fault. Even if you were to blame—and you aren’t, but even if you were—do you think that’s an unforgivable offense? One you should spend the rest of your life paying for?”
“Dad paid for it for the rest of his. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Was your dad a Christian?”
Dad had loved the Lord. He’d had a temper, but he was a faithful man. Jaz nodded.
“Then your dad fell into the water and woke up in the arms of Jesus. I promise you, he’s not up there angry with you or blaming you.
God numbers our days, Jasper. For whatever reason, God chose to take your dad that day.
I don’t know why, and I can’t begin to imagine how horrible that was.
But God chose to let you live. He must have a plan for you.
And if your father has the privilege of looking down at you, I bet he’s button-popping proud of the man you’re becoming. ”
“Of what? Of…of…” He couldn’t imagine what he’d done that would make Dad proud.
“You’re trying to bring down a killer.”
“I don’t have a choice.”