supposed to do with all these ribs, Pop?” Jake asks. “You could have just left them. It’s not like we can eat all this.”
Mr. Jacobson shakes his head as I hand him one of the ribs. I wrapped the end of it in a paper towel before I passed it to him so he can keep his hands clean. “I couldn’t leave them there, Jake. I just couldn’t.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Jacobson,” I say quietly. “It really wasn’t worth it.”
He meets my gaze in the mirror. “You’re worth it, Ethan,” he says. “You are most definitely worth it.” Then he takes a bite of his rib, puts the truck in gear, and eats with one hand while he drives with the other. “These are some of my best work,” Mr. Jacobson says contentedly, waving his rib bone in the air.
“They are mighty fine, Pop,” Jake replies.
“What do you think, Ethan?” he asks. But I can tell he’s asking me about more than ribs.
“I think they’re the best ribs I’ve ever had. Ever.”
And I think Mr. Jacobson is the hero every lost soul should have in their life. Because when you’re lost, he’ll be sure you get found.
And in that moment, I feel found. I feel seen.
Mr. Jacobson reaches back with his bare beef bone, and says, “Give me another.” I replace it with a new one. Around a full mouth he says, “They thought they could kick us out and still eat ribs.” He grunts out a laugh.
“Technically, they didn’t kick you out, Pop,” Jake chides.
“They may as well have,” Pop says quietly.
“My dad, always fighting for the underdog,” Jake mutters. He shakes his head with a laugh.
“I take my responsibilities seriously, Jake,” he replies softly. “One day when you’re as old as I am and you’ve seen as much as I have and done as much as I have, you’ll be just like me.”
I want to be just like him too.
We make eight stops on the way home, and Mr. Jacobson leaves a batch of ribs with various families, all families who could use a little help, but Mr. Jacobson makes it seem like they’re doing him a huge favor by taking the food off his hands. Then he drops by the two local nursing homes and leaves the rest for an evening snack for the residents. He stays to talk for a few minutes, and Jake and I lean against the tailgate, waiting for him to be finished.
“You got lucky, Jake.”
Jake heaves out a sigh. “I know.” He grins at me. “Just don’t tell him I said so, or his head will swell up so big we won’t be able to fit him in the truck.”
30
Abigail
A gentle rain begins to fall around seven o’clock. I hear the pings on the tin roof and look out the screen door and watch as fat raindrops splat against the porch. I open the door and step outside. A cool wind lifts my hair, blowing it back from my face, and I inhale deeply.
I know I’m not going to be able to stay here forever, not without a job. So I either have to get a job and decide to stay, or I need to go home. But I don’t know how Ethan feels. I know he likes me—he has said as much. What I don’t know is if he can love me. Or if I can love him back.
If anyone were to ask me right now this very minute, I’d have to say that I am falling in love with him. I think about him all the time, even when he’s not around. I wonder what he’s doing and if he’s happy. I wonder how people are treating him, and whether or not they’re treating him well enough.
He’s gone now with Jake and Mr. Jacobson to the fire and rescue meeting in advance of the coming storm. But I’m pretty sure I know what kind of reception he’s going to get, and I know he’ll be heartbroken over it.
My walk takes me up to the big house, the house on the hill where the Jacobsons live, and I find Katie in the yard with her children. Her older two children are kicking a ball around with her two little ones, and she has a baby in her arms as she occasionally runs after one or the other of the small ones. She looks up as I approach.