finished. “You may hate me, and I may deserve it, but my son, he’s out there, and he wants me to be here, and I’ll be anywhere he wants me to be. I don’t care how many people hate me in this town.”
“Plenty!” someone calls from the stands.
Ethan hangs his head and takes a deep breath. Then he straightens his spine. “Hate me all you want. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay.”
He turns and rests his elbows on the top of the fence again, and I can tell this conversation is over.
Derrick reaches to spin Ethan back around to face him, but suddenly Mr. Jacobson squeezes between them, forcing Derrick to step back. “I suggest you leave the man alone,” he says, his voice deadly serious.
“This doesn’t concern you, Jacobson,” the other man says, stumbling slightly as Mr. Jacobson advances and moves him back even farther.
“This young man may as well be part of my family now. He lives at my place, and he’s become pretty special to all of us. So I suggest you find somebody else to pick on, unless you want to pick on somebody who will pick back.” He thrusts out his considerable chest as he leans toward the man and says very clearly, “That’s me, in case you were wondering.”
“Well, I never!” Imogene sputters.
“Get over it, Imogene,” Mr. Jacobson says. “Let it go, forgive him, push it to the back of your mind… I don’t really care what you do. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by holding on to the hatred.”
Mr. Jacobson turns away and rests his forearms on the fence right next to Ethan, who looks over at him and just stares. “Thank you,” I hear him say quietly. He bumps Mr. Jacobson very gently with his shoulder.
“Shut up,” Mr. Jacobson replies, which makes Ethan laugh.
Mitchell runs up, carrying a bag of chips, a popsicle, and a juice pouch. “Can we go to the lake now?” he asks.
Ethan settles his hand on top of Mitchell’s head and gives it a scrub. “Let’s go.”
He leans toward Ethan and asks, “Is Abigail going with us?”
Ethan grins at me. “She is. Is that okay with you?”
He shrugs. “Fine with me. She’s nice. Even if she is a girl.”
I laugh to myself as we get Mitchell’s booster seat settled in the car, put his overnight bag in the back of the truck, and then I get in the middle seat. I watch out the front window as Ethan and Mitchell say goodbye to Ethan’s mom. This is harder and easier for her, in equal measures, I can tell. Ethan and Mitchell finally get in the truck, so I scoot over as far as I can go to make room for Mitchell’s booster seat. I’m over so far toward Ethan that I have to put one leg on each side of the gear shift, and Ethan grins at me as he reaches to shift into reverse.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he says.
“You’re very welcome,” I reply.
Once or twice, as he drives us back to the lake, his arm drops a little low as he shifts gear, and his forearm rubs my inner thigh. I don’t say a word, though. Instead, I try to put the pieces of the puzzle together in my head.
But I’m still missing some vital parts. I assume he’ll explain it all to me when he’s ready.
18
Ethan
When we get back to the lake, I drive straight to my campsite rather than to Abigail’s cabin, mainly because I’m hoping she might want to hang out with us for a little while.
“Oh, my gosh!” she suddenly says, as she gets out of the car. She looks around frantically. “I just realized that Wilbur wasn’t with us.” She walks to the tent and shakes the side of it. He doesn’t come strolling out like he normally would, because he’s not there.
“Where’s Wilbur, Dad?” Mitchell asks. And I get all mushy inside because my son is here and he’s calling me Dad.
I tousle Mitchell’s hair affectionately. “He’s with his girlfriend.”
Mitchell’s mouth falls open. “Wilbur has a girlfriend?”
“He does.” I get Mitchell’s bag from the back of the truck and set it in the tent.
“Why did he have to go and get a girlfriend!” he exclaims, and he makes it sound the same as if he’d said “get his appendix taken out.”
“She might not be his girlfriend yet, but he’s seriously working on it,” I say. I wink at Abigail and her cheeks turn rosy. She