“My never-ending devotion?” he tosses back.
She snorts. “Like I would ever want that.” She blows an errant lock of dark hair from her eyes.
“Come up with something you want. I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
“I’ll need three very capable men to clean out the shack out back so I can develop the pictures.” She looks at the three of us each in turn.
Her mother had a small shed in the back corner of the tiny lot that she used for developing the pictures she took. Through the years, it got filled with junk, but it’s still there. It just needs to be cleaned out.
“So, is that a yes?” she says, parroting what Aaron asked before. She glares at each of us in turn again.
“I didn’t want any pictures,” Jake says as he shoves half a sandwich into his mouth in one bite. She glares at him. He pretends to deflate. “I’ll help,” he grumbles, mouth full.
“I just need the junk moved out. And for somebody to get rid of the spider webs.”
“Consider it done,” Aaron says.
“And somebody needs to clean off the little table so I can set up the developing trays.”
“Also done,” Aaron says.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Bess chirps as she walks toward the front door, camera in hand. She goes out, and I hear her laugh when Katie teases her quietly about her camera.
“She just laughed,” I say quietly. I shake my head in wonder. “I haven’t heard that in years.” I look at them. “I’ve missed it. I’ve missed her.” I swipe my hand down my face. “Jesus, I’m a sap.”
“I still don’t want any pictures,” Jake says, as he reaches for another sandwich and shoves it into his mouth.
Aaron throws a grape at him. It bounces off his shoulder and rolls onto the floor. Jake bends over, picks it up, and pops it into his mouth. “Five second rule,” he says around his already full mouth.
“You’re disgusting,” Aaron says on a laugh.
“Katie likes it when I do disgusting things.”
“Like eating ass?” I ask. I shove his shoulder. “You should keep that shit to yourself, dude.” But I’m laughing. I haven’t laughed like this in a very long time.
He waggles his brows at me. “A gentleman never tells.”
“Mr. Jacobson didn’t raise a gentleman,” Aaron says.
“Thank God for that,” Jake replies with a chuckle.
11
Aaron
The kids stay awake way too late after eating their sandwiches, mainly because they went on a mission to catch lightning bugs. We’d migrated over to my cabin after the kids finished eating. Mr. Jacobson had shown up on his red golf cart after he’d come home from bingo, and he’d brought a few empty jars with him. “Perfect lightning bug catching night,” he’d grumbled as he’d passed out the jars.
As the sun set, I’d sat on my porch with Miles struggling to stay awake on my lap while I watched Sam and Kerry-Anne chase each other around the yard catching lightning bugs. Jake and Katie ran around with their two small children, and they all hung out long after the little kids were yawning and scrubbing at their eyes.
Bess and Eli said their good-nights and headed for their cabin.
Old Man Jacobson sinks down onto the top step next to me, groaning as he sits down. “That step was farther down than I thought it was,” he says.
“My mom says that the distance between the ground and her is greater now that she’s older.” I grin at him.
“And it hurts more when you fall.” He scratches his elbow. He looks at me, finally. “You feeling all right?”
“I’m okay,” I say quietly.
“When my wife was doing chemo, she could barely get out of bed.” He slaps a mosquito that landed on his arm.
“They’re giving me a mild dose.” I shrug. “It’s not that bad.”
“Is that normal?” He stares at me. “A mild dose?”
“For now. It’s only for the next two weeks. Then I’m done.”
He lets out a slow breath. “When does palliative care start?”
Palliative care is when they give you pain meds and things to handle pain, instead of treating the cancer.
“I’ve got a few weeks left. Maybe a month or two.” I shrug. “Who knows.”
“Your two oldest kids are sleeping at my house tonight?” he asks.
I smile. “I heard Jake built a blanket fort.”
“Fort, my ass. It’s like a condo, with Christmas lights strung through it and shit. And air mattresses inside.”
“When we were boys, we had a sheet strung across the dining chairs and a sleeping bag. And we were happy with that.”
He shoves my shoulder. “I gave you boys pillows, too.”
I chuckle, and it feels good, so I close my eyes and drink in the sounds. I don’t want to miss a moment. I want to feel everything, all the way to the end.
“Okay, kids,” Katie calls out. She claps her hands together, and all the kids freeze. “If you’re a Jacobson, go home, take a shower, and get in your jammies. If you’re not a Jacobson, go get your jammies. You can shower at our house.” She claps her hands together again and they all run in different directions.
Gabby and Jake go with the first wave of kids, and my two girls streak up the steps, their bare feet filthy as they pound up the steps between me and Mr. Jacobson. The boards shake a bit as they run across the porch. They leave their jars with the lightning bugs outside next to the door. In minutes, they’re back outside and they’re both carrying their pajamas, the blankets from their beds, and Kerry-Anne has her stuffed bunny which she never sleeps without.
“’Night, Daddy,” Kerry-Anne says. She kisses my cheek, and then she runs off after Katie.
“Wait for me!” Sam calls. She starts off after them, but at the last moment she turns back, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”
“Have fun,” I say. I watch as they all walk away, with Jake bringing up the rear.
Silence settles around us like a warm blanket.
“Have you told her yet?” Old Man Jacobson asks, his voice quiet and reverent.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He grunts. “You might want to get on that.”
I nod. “I will. As soon as the time is right.”
“Better you tell her than let her find out on her own. Or worse, after the fact.”
“I know.” I do know. I just don’t want to do it yet. Not with the tension we’ve had between us since her mom died. I want to fix us before I have to break us. “I’m kind of jealous they’re going to get to sleep in the fort.” I force out a chuckle I don’t really feel.
“Does the little dude sleep well?” he asks.
“He sleeps almost the whole night. If he does wake up, he just wants a bottle and a diaper change, and then he goes right back to sleep.”
Miles is heavy on my lap, his head tucked into the crook of my arm at an odd angle, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He fell asleep about a half hour ago. I didn’t want to put him down.