Chapter 1: Opening Day10 Years Later – From the Perspective of Dean Jackson


    I slide the heavy bed comforter off me and sit up on the edge of the mattress, my feet dangling. I sit there for a moment, trying to shake off the lingering sleep, but when I stand, I rise too quickly and a wave of dizziness comes over me. Today’s a big day. A lot of cameras will be around, and I’m sure even more pretty faces will be running about. I grab a crisp shirt for the occasion and slip into a pair of light brown khakis that are just nice enough to pass for classy. I check myself in the mirror, give a wink for good measure, wash my face with a damp towel, and comb my hair to one side, the way I always do.


    “Dean? Breakfast is ready,” I hear Mom call from downstairs. “Hurry, son!”


    Our house is perched on a hill, offering a view of an open field. It’s a beautiful place, with porches wrapping around every side, a perfectly arranged patio, and windows everywhere to enjoy the trees and stars that surround us. A twisty country road leads from here into town.


    I jog down the carpeted stairs, cross the living room, and head into the kitchen. Mom’s already setting out plates of food on the table, so I grab some utensils and set them out. The rest of the family is gathered around the kitchen island, eager to start eating. That includes William, who’s still as hopeless as ever. He’s twenty-three now, and hasn’t attended a single class since high school. He works part-time, cleaning local parks for the city. Most mothers would’ve kicked him out by now, but Mom insists on having him around to help with Anna. It''s amazing to me that, despite his lack of ambition, he’s still managed to build a life he enjoys. He’s got an incredible girlfriend, Lauren, and a reputation from his high school baseball days that still holds some weight.


    “We don’t have much time, so eat up,” Mom says, clearly anxious about the day ahead.


    Anna takes a bite of her pancake before speaking. “I’m really excited for the park to open today.”


    “The cameras will be rolling during the ceremony, so kids, please remember to smile.” Mom directs, then reassures us, “It’s going to be fun.”


    “We’ll have to try the obstacle course, Anna,” William tells her.


    “Did you all pick out your bathing suits?” Mom asks.


    “I’m wearing the orange and white one,” Anna says with a grin.


    Anna is so special to all of us, but I don’t think anyone could love her more than I do. She’s the last gift Dad gave us. She’s got his endless energy, and is more introverted like he tended to be. Since Mom has become so invested in the city, Anna’s childhood hasn’t been the same as mine or William’s. Without Dad around, she’s never had a strong male role model to guide her. Despite that, Anna embodies the best parts of both Mom and Dad, and yet she’s entirely unique. She’s ten years old, but so independent and driven. Her heart is pure, and that’s something neither Mom nor Dad could have passed down to her. She’s the only one of us who didn’t inherit Dad’s dark brown hair. She didn’t get mom’s auburn hair either. William and I share the same bright green eyes and dimples when we smile, but Anna’s eyes are different.


    I hurry through my breakfast, syrup dripping from my lips, and rush back upstairs to grab a pair of swimming trunks. I pick out the most eye-catching pair I own: short, tight, and fluorescent, covered with dolphins.


    Like Anna, I’m thrilled about the park’s opening today. It’s the first public water park in the community, and I spent my whole childhood dreaming of having one here. These past few years have been rough on our town, so the excitement surrounding the park is palpable. After the tornado tore through, many homes and businesses were destroyed, and parts of the highway were demolished. The damage to the landscape was so severe that repairing it became a long-term project. Due to our struggling economy, most of Jeade’s surplus funds were reallocated elsewhere, so we didn’t have the resources to rebuild the highway or restore the town ourselves. A year later, the state decided to reroute the highway, allegedly to make the project more affordable and provide better access to other parts of the state—though Mom thinks they were just trying to combat the rising crime rates in our town. The new route bypasses Jeade entirely, and there are no major exits leading into the city. Ever since, the population has steadily declined, and we’ve fallen further off the map. Businesses relocated to booming new towns, and residents left in search of better opportunities. Jeade went from a small Midwestern town to a developing urban hotspot, then, in the blink of an eye, fell further back than where we started.


    Grandpa used to tell me stories about the days when cornfields and mom-and-pop shops filled the streets. To him, it wasn’t ancient history—it was his life. Jeade is still a larger city now, but it’s less than half the size it was before the tornado.


    Mom was elected as a councilwoman shortly after Dad disappeared, and since then, her mission has been to bring hope back to our town. She’s a visionary, highly motivated, and relentlessly ambitious. Several years ago, she started a fund for the public water park. With many schools closing and ending their extra-curricular programs and recreation centers relocating, she knew the kids needed somewhere to go. Plus, she was frustrated that Anna never had a proper place to learn how to swim. River splashes on warm days just weren’t enough, especially with how few opportunities exist given the terrible weather we face here. Local banks and business owners chipped in, and Mom worked with other city officials to cover the rest of the cost. The park is now a reality, and today’s ribbon-cutting ceremony has everyone buzzing. All the local kids will be there, and it’s probably the last fun thing many of us will do before school starts back. College starts tomorrow.


    “Is everyone ready?” Mom calls as she leads us out to the car. Lauren has just pulled in to meet us.


    “Lauren, you brought a bathing suit, right?”


    “Yeah,” Lauren replies, already attaching herself to William’s side.


    “Let’s go, then,” Mom says as she slides into the driver’s seat. “Kids, you get in the back. Lauren, shotgun.”


    I slide into the car, and Anna follows, plopping down in the middle seat. She must still be tired because, as soon as she buckles in, she curls up against me, resting her head on my shoulder.


    “Are you sleepy, Anna?” I ask gently.


    She mutters “yes” but doesn’t move.


    William gets in next, and Lauren takes the front seat beside Mom. Without wasting time, Mom starts the car and hits the gas, zooming down the driveway.


    “Mom, slow down!” I shout as she takes a sharp turn out of the driveway and down the hill at what feels like sixty miles per hour.


    “Dean, remember when you crashed the day you got your license?” William says, his eyes glued to his phone screen. “Maybe you’re not the best person to make speed suggestions.”


    “I’ve told you a hundred times, I saw a deer. I panicked,” I snap back.


    “It’s funny, because when I followed you home from the DMV, I didn’t see any deer. I did, however, see you run that yellow light and rear-end that red Hyundai.”


    “Is Richie going to be at the pool today, Mom?” Anna asks, lifting her head from my shoulder, yawning, and rubbing her eyes with her fists.


    “Of course Richie will be there, sweetheart,” Mom says, her grin widening. “You really like him, don’t you? He spoils you.” Mom teases.


    “Exactly,” Anna agrees.


    “My mom talks about him sometimes,” Lauren adds. “Dad never says anything nice about him, though.”


    “Why’s that?” Mom asks, a hint of seriousness in her voice.


    “Dad says he’s been mayor for almost my entire lifetime, and all he’s done is push people out of town and raise property taxes. He says the town is no better now than it was twenty years ago,” Lauren says, pausing before adding, “How does someone with that kind of track record maintain public trust? How does he keep a rubber-stamp council? There are no checks and balances with him.”


    Mom glances at Lauren and smiles, aware that if anyone else had said that, it would have warranted a different response. “You know, Richie isn’t responsible for all of the city’s problems. Most men would’ve folded after the tornado hit. And as for the council, you should come to one of the sessions sometime. I’m the furthest thing from a rubber-stamp for Richie Meyers. We don’t always see eye to eye.”


    There’s something about Mayor Meyers that doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe it’s that I get wary of Mom’s close friendships with certain men. I remember how much Dad used to do for this town, and how much I miss having him around, even if it was only sometimes. I feel like Richie has taken too much of Mom’s attention. I don’t want to lose her too. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize the weight of her job, but I still think it’s unfair, especially to Anna, that she’s become so distant from us—just like Dad used to be.


    The parking lot is packed, and cars spill out onto the main road parking alongside it. Mom points out a reserved spot at the front, and we make our way toward the entrance.


    “That’s a crowd,” Lauren says, amazed by the turnout.


    Mom scans the sea of people before spotting Mayor Meyers. “There he is. Let’s go, guys,” she says, nodding toward him.


    We step out of the car, and the sun beats down on the crowd, turning this grand opening into something more akin to a sweat-fueled endurance test than a festive celebration.


    “Good morning, beautiful people!” Mayor Meyers exclaims, giving Mom a quick hug.


    “I can’t believe this many people showed up,” Mom says, her eyes wide as she takes in either his gaze or the crowd.


    “Isn’t it amazing?” Richie replies, clearly delighted. He spots Anna and calls out her name. He leans down, pulling her into a short embrace, and pulls a dum-dum from the chest pocket of his untucked white button-up shirt. Raspberry flavor—somehow, it’s always her favorite.


    A gray bus pulled up to the sidewalk beside us. The driver and a passenger exited the large vehicle, each carrying equipment as they made their way toward the building.


    “Can you help them out?” Mayor Meyers asked, glancing at William, who had inherited our father’s impressive height and build.


    “Channel 6 is here,” Mom remarked, her voice betraying a hint of nerves as goosebumps spread across her skin.


    “You’re going to be on TV, live for the whole state to see,” Mayor Meyers added with enthusiasm. “This is your moment!”


    A short, middle-aged woman with neatly pinned, dirty blonde hair approached. She wore an eye-catching, bright pink dress that stood out against the large group of people that surrounded us. “Richie. Sherry,” she greeted, extending her hand to shake the mayor’s.


    “Becky!” Mom exclaimed, shaking her hand as well. She turned to us, proudly introducing us once more. “These are my kids—William, Dean, and Anna.” She paused, then beamed at Lauren with a heartwarming smile. “And this is Lauren, my future daughter-in-law. Isn’t she just gorgeous?”


    I wasn’t sure why Mom felt the need to introduce us again, but of course, we were all familiar with the woman in the pink dress. Becky was a fellow councilmember, a force in the business world, and the CEO of MeadowWorks—the largest lumber yard and hardwood distributor in the state. As Jeade’s biggest employer, she held a significant sway in the community. Despite her radiant image in commercials, her decision-making at city hall often raised eyebrows, often favoring her own interests—a “rubber stamp,” as Lauren put it.


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    Together, we made our way through the crowd, which buzzed with excitement. The group before us was a mixed bag—some wore bathing suits, eager for the ceremony to end so they could dive in, while others stood in formal attire, prepared to smile for the cameras and serve as the backdrop for interviews. Among them were the town’s wealthiest patrons, who had donated to the cause, as well as members of the lower-income demographic, taking advantage of a free day out in some water.


    As we approached the podium, the crowd’s chatter hushed, and all eyes turned to us. William and I stood off to the side, allowing Mom to have her moment at the front. Lauren had already taken Anna into the pool area for early access, escaping the wave of people who would soon rush in. Mom, Becky, and Mayor Meyers posed for photos by the podium, and I stood there, waiting for the speeches to begin, quietly observing those around me. Flashing cameras captured the moment, many focused on Mom at the podium, some on the pristine building entrance or the shiny gold ribbon strung between two black concrete pillars, while others seemed more interested in the bikini-wearing women among us in the crowd.


    For a brief moment, I had to force myself to focus. There were many beautiful girls in the crowd, but also just as many shirtless, bearded bikers, covered in tattoos standing nearby. That is a huge turnoff.


    Suddenly, strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind. I jumped, startled, but relaxed when I turned to see an old family friend—Kevin Abely. Dad used to work with him.


    “Looking more like your old man every day, buddy,” he said with a smile. “How’ve you been?”


    “It’s been a long time,” I replied. “I hardly recognize you.”


    The last time I’d had a meaningful conversation with him was at Dad’s funeral. We’d spoken briefly then, but it has been ten years, and we’ve never caught up. Mom and Kevin aren’t particularly close anymore either, and after Dad’s passing, he seemed to keep his distance. There were a few times we’d spotted him at the grocery store or baseball games, but we never approached him. What would I say?


    “Where has the time gone?” Kevin asked. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”


    “Definitely,” I agreed, before turning my attention to the podium as Mayor Meyers began his speech.


    “Ladies and gentlemen, honorable citizens of Jeade, and visitors from surrounding areas… I welcome you to Jeade City Pool, the first large-scale water park and full-sized aquatic space this town has ever seen!”


    The crowd erupted into applause.


    “I must introduce the person who made all of this possible,” Mayor Meyers continued. “She fundraised, planned, and advocated for this water park with unwavering passion and determination. Through her hard work, Councilwoman Sherry Carte made this a reality for us all. Let’s give a huge round of applause to one of my dearest friends, Sherry Carte-Jackson!”


    Mom was well-known around town as a politician who actually got things done. Over the years, she had built a reputation for being effective, and many in the community urged her to run for mayor or seek higher office at the state level. But despite the pressure, she always insisted she was content in her role and had no desire for more power. Still, she was one of Mayor Meyer’s strongest allies.


    “Good morning, Jeade!” Mom’s voice rang out as she stepped up to the microphone. “Today, we celebrate what’s great in our town. We celebrate unity, strength, and redemption. Today, we no longer dwell on what has been lost, but instead, we focus on what is yet to come. This is the first step in rebuilding our city, improving the lives of our children, and restoring Jeade to its former glory.”


    It was her moment to shine, and I was so proud of her. She had worked tirelessly for this day, rehearsing her speech in the shower, while cooking dinner, anywhere she could find a few seconds to refine it.


    After a few more words of encouragement, Mayor Meyers grabbed the mic. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, when Ms. Carte cuts the ribbon, we’ll pose for pictures and open the doors wide. It’s opening day! I know you’re all excited to jump right in!”


    Becky and Mayor Meyers untied the golden ribbon and held it tight, walking in opposite directions. Mom stood in the center, a large pair of golden scissors in hand. As the crowd began chanting, “Three… two… one…” she cut the ribbon, and the crowd roared in excitement. After a few quick photos with the donors and council members, the doors opened, and a rush of eager people flooded into the locker rooms.


    Mom walked over to us, looking both relieved and thrilled. “How did I do?” she asked.


    “Very powerful speech, Ms. Jackson,” Kevin said, his voice sincere from behind me.


    “Awe, Kevin,” Mom said, smiling warmly at him.


    “Y’all better get in there,” Kevin added, nodding toward the entrance.


    William and I headed into the boys'' locker room to change into our swim trunks. Like everyone else, this would be our first time seeing the park behind the building. Mom had kept it a secret until now. I couldn’t believe she had let Anna and Lauren get the first look.


    The pool area was impressive. It resembled a small lake, with several slides and diving boards at the deep end. Sprinklers dotted the perimeter, and barrels above the water periodically tipped over, dumping water on whoever happened to be below. At the center of the largest pool, a three-story obstacle course stood, with swings and climbing ropes. People were falling off in all directions, trying to conquer the course for the first time. I watched as Anna attempted the rope swing, barely managing to make it to the next platform. I couldn’t help but laugh at her expression, a mix of embarrassment and pride. Lauren stood below, waiting patiently for Anna to jump into her arms once she reached the end.


    Mom walked up beside me and nodded toward William, who was now taking a turn on the obstacle course. “He’s just a big kid, isn’t he?” she commented. “Did you get a chance to talk yet today?”


    “We talked for a minute,” I replied, sensing where this conversation was headed. Mom was always worried about my relationship with William, always concerned that we argue too much or didn’t get along.


    I could tell by the look on her face that she regretted bringing it up.


    “Go have fun,” Mom says, playfully pushing me away.


    I make my way over to the ‘Corkscrew,’ a towering water slide that spins and spirals all the way down to the pool below it. The lines were long, moving at a snail''s pace, and each step upward felt like a slow, laborious climb. But there was plenty to keep my mind distracted while waiting—mainly, the view.


    “Alright, wait until I give the go-ahead,” the lifeguard instructs as I approach the slide.


    At the top, I pause, looking down at the sea of people below. I grasp the handlebars tightly, waiting for the signal to let go. At that moment, I couldn''t help but wonder if this dizzying ride, with its endless loops and a drop into ten feet of water, was really the smartest choice.


    “All clear,” the lifeguard calls, and I let go, plunging into the spiral.


    To my surprise, I wasn’t as dizzy as I’d imagined. However, it quickly occurred to me that I was still underwater and needed to swim to the surface before I started to drown. I swam to the nearest ladder and pulled myself out. I saw William and Lauren walking toward the concession stand with Anna, their hands intertwined like two little kids in love. Gross. I trailed a little behind them, the smell of fried corn dogs and funnel cakes making my mouth water.


    As I passed the seating area near the stand, I noticed small children, drenched from head to toe, sucking on popsicles or dripping nacho cheese onto their shivering legs. That''s when I spotted Danny—Lauren’s older brother—hanging around. I couldn''t imagine anyone trusting him to babysit, but here he was, talking to a younger boy, probably around Anna’s age. Danny stood tall, towering over the kid, clearly using some form of intimidation tactic to get that funnel cake. I could tell this was all part of some little performance—probably one of his “Hey, look at me, girls!” antics. The kid seemed unfazed, but I noticed Danny was looking over at a group of high school girls watching from a nearby picnic table. Great.


    “Danny Maxwell,” I called out, walking over.


    The kid looked up, confused, clearly not knowing me. “Look at this!” he said proudly, holding up an old, rusty penny. “Danny gave it to me. It''s a coin Indians used to use to buy arrowheads.”


    I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Of course, Danny thought this was amusing.


    “Kid…” I started, feeling the need to explain just how poorly he was being swindled. But before I could finish, the boy spoke up.


    “And besides,” he added, “Danny told me if I give up the funnel cake, he’d get me a kiss from the cutest girl at the pool.”


    I nearly laughed out loud. Danny Maxwell, always working his charm.


    “Well, I do happen to know the cutest girl your age at this pool—she’s my sister. I don’t like the idea of any kisses, but I promise she’d be a better friend than this knucklehead.” I said looking at Danny. “Come with me, kid. I’ll buy you a fresh funnel cake. And by the way, they have all kinds of toppings in there.”


    I led the boy back to the line, where William, Lauren, and Anna were already waiting. Their expressions were priceless when they saw me with my new “sidekick.”


    “This is Anna,” I introduced him.


    The boy flashed a wide grin. Anna, on the other hand, just stared at him, too shy to say anything but too polite to look away. Of course, any sort of peer interaction is a bit awkward in front of your older siblings.


    “Why don’t you two go over to the shallow pool and play while we wait on some food?” Lauren suggested. “We’ll bring snacks over to you. Be careful, Anna.”


    The boy immediately started heading toward the shallow pool, glancing back to make sure Anna was following. After a moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath and joined him. It was sweet to watch.


    “What are you up to?” Lauren asked me.


    “I owe this kid a funnel cake. And your brother owes him a kiss,” I said with a chuckle.


    Lauren didn’t quite get the reference, but she giggled along anyway.


    As we waited in line, something caught my attention. A few gasps from the crowd broke the usual chatter, followed by a heavy silence. My heart dropped. Something wasn’t right. I turned toward the deepest pool, right on the other side of the pavilion, and saw several lifeguards rushing toward it. I looked at Lauren and William, all of us thinking the same worst case scenario.


    We ran to the pool. There, a group of dads, and a few young lifeguards, were lifting someone out of the water. My stomach dropped. It was Anna.


    She was conscious but barely, coughing up water. The entire area was deathly quiet. A deep sense of relief washed over me, but it was still overshadowed by the dread of what could have happened.


    “Anna!” Mayor Meyers exclaimed, rushing from the admissions building. He stopped in front of us, glancing down at Anna, then back up to us. “What have you done?” His voice was frantic.


    The boy from earlier stood nearby, looking terrified. “I pushed her,” he stammered. “I was just playing. It was an accident.”


    I could see the distress in his eyes. He was scared.


    Then Mom and Becky appeared, running over to us from the building. Anna was sitting up now, arms wrapped around her legs, looking embarrassed and overwhelmed. Everyone was staring at her.


    The click of cameras in the background only added to the tension. I could already imagine how the town would react to this—Mom’s big day turned into a nightmare. It would be blasted all over the news channels.


    Mom knelt beside Anna, whispering something I couldn’t hear. She stood up, helping Anna to her feet.


    “William and Dean, come with me,” Mayor Meyers demanded, leading us into an office inside the admissions building.


    “You better have a good explanation for this,” he continued, his voice full of judgment. “This could be bad for all of you.”


    I stayed silent. I knew whatever excuse I gave wouldn''t satisfy him. So did William.


    “And the news? If this story gets out, it’ll be everywhere. It’ll look terrible,” Mayor Meyers said.


    I couldn’t hold back anymore. “It was an accident, Mayor Meyers! How can you not see that? It could’ve happened to anyone.”


    Before he could respond, the door opened, and Mom walked in. At first, I couldn’t tell if she was angry or just relieved that Anna was okay. Her face softened a bit, but there was a shift in her expression that told me she was upset about it.


    “You and Danny sent Anna off with the boy?” she asked, her voice surprisingly sharp.


    “Not exactly,” I replied, trying to explain. I didn’t send her off, but I wasn’t about to cast the blame onto Lauren. She doesn’t deserve to be shamed by my mother. And there’s no way I’d throw her under the bus in front of William anyway.


    Mom’s frustration was clear. “I know how much you love your sister. But you let your guard down in a crowded place like this. What did you expect to happen?” Her disappointment was evident.


    Mayor Meyers added, “She could have drowned.”


    The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air.


    Finally, he explained, “I will convince the news to not run a story. Not with Anna being your daughter. But it’s going to cost me.”


    I could hear his footsteps stomping away as he left the room, a final glare thrown in my direction.


    Mom looked at me, her face creased with stress. I felt terrible—she didn’t deserve to feel this way on what was supposed to be a proud day for her.


    “We’re going home,” she said quietly, turning toward the front entrance.


    We all piled into the car. Anna was crying softly. It was the first time I’d seen her since she was pulled from the pool. A pang of guilt hit me. Maybe I was at fault. William got into the passenger seat, and Lauren and Anna joined me in the back.


    Anna rested her head on my shoulder, just like she had earlier that morning when she was tired. Lauren rested her head against the car window, facing Anna and I. She wasn’t upset like Mom, sad like Anna, or emotionless like William. She just sat quietly, gazing at us with those bright Carolina eyes.


    The car ride was very quiet, all but the Beatles playing softly on the radio and the occasional adjustment Anna made to get more comfortable. Mom didn’t glance at me through the rearview mirror. I didn’t look at anyone either. I had plenty of time to replay the events over and over in my head. “It’s over,” I kept telling myself. In a town like ours, there would always be something else for people to talk about tomorrow.