As though a missing piece of him had finally been returned.
Sixty-eight
“Are you all right, Daddy?”
“What?”
I shook my head. I was sitting by Jake’s bed, holding Power of Three open at the last page, staring into space. We had just finished the book, and then I had gotten distracted. Lost in thought.
“I’m fine,” I said.
From Jake’s expression, it was clear that he didn’t believe me—and he was right, of course: I was a long way from being fine. But I didn’t want to tell him about seeing my father for the last time at the hospital that day. In time, perhaps I would, but there was still so much he didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure I had the words yet to explain any of it, or to make him understand.
Nothing ever changed on that level.
“Just this book.” I closed it and ran my hand thoughtfully over the cover. “I haven’t read it since I was a kid, and I guess it brought back memories. Made me feel like I was your age again a bit.”
“I don’t believe you were ever my age.”
I laughed. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Cuddle?”
Jake pulled the sheet away, then clambered out. I put the book down as he perched on my knee.
“Carefully.”
“Sorry, Daddy.”
“It’s okay. Just reminding you.”
It had been nearly two weeks since my injuries at the hands of George Saunders, a man I now knew had once been called Francis Carter. I still wasn’t sure how close I’d come to dying that day. I couldn’t even remember most of it. A lot of what happened that morning was a blur, as though the panic I had been experiencing had smeared it all away and stopped me from retaining it. The first day in the hospital was much the same; my life only swam back into focus slowly. I was left now with bandages across one side of my body, an inability to put my weight down properly on that foot, and a handful of impressions that were little more than memories of a dream. Jake shouting for me; the desperation I had felt; the need to reach him.
The fact that I had been ready to die for him.
He hugged me now, very gently. Even so, I had to do my best not to wince. I was grateful that he didn’t need me to carry him up and down the stairs in this house. After what had happened, I’d been worried he might be more scared than ever, and that the behavior might return, but the truth was that he’d dealt with the horrors of that day far better than I’d imagined. Perhaps better than I had.
I hugged him back as best I could. It was all I could ever do. And then, after he’d clambered back in, I stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He looked so peaceful in bed, warm and safe, with the Packet of Special Things resting on the floor beside him. I hadn’t told him that I had looked inside it, or what I had found there, or the truth about the little girl. That was something else that—for the moment at least—I didn’t have the words for.
“Good night, mate. I love you.”
He yawned.
“Love you too, Daddy.”
The stairs were hard for me right now, so after I turned off the light I went into my own room for a while, waiting for him to go to sleep. I sat on the bed and opened my laptop, turning my attention to the most recent file and reading what was there.
Rebecca.
I know exactly what you’d think about that, because you were always so much more practical than me. You’d want me to get on with my life. You’d want me to be happy.
And so on. It took me a moment to understand what I’d written, because I hadn’t touched the document since that final night in the safe house, which seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was about Karen—how I felt guilty for having feelings for her. That also seemed very distant. She had come to see me in the hospital. She’d taken Jake to school for me and helped to look after him as I gradually recuperated. There was a growing closeness between us. What happened had brought us together, but it had also knocked us off a more predictable track, and that kiss hadn’t happened yet. But I could still feel it there waiting.