《Because of Vensilla Street》


 Prologue: Herb Jackson

    Prologue


    In the perspective of Detective Herb Jackson


    The sun rose steadily over the mountains on an early Monday morning in the developing


    town of Jeade. The air was crisp, though the weatherman had predicted that it would be


    the first warm day of spring. Along the town¡¯s border, congested highways tested the


    patience of commuters navigating crowded roads. I, however, found myself tucked away in


    the Jeade City Police Department, in the Forensics Center, where the workday had just


    begun.


    The division¡¯s offices slowly filled with the groggy, yawning faces of men and women,


    reluctantly returning to their routines. The ubiquitous coffee cups and donuts in hand were


    the department¡¯s hallmark¡ªsticky glaze left behind on keyboards and doorknobs. Staff


    members glanced out the windows, watching the traffic below, their eyes drawn to the


    vibrant hues of the sunrise. It seemed like the beginning of a pleasant, warm day, but in


    the precinct, the challenges of the job loomed ahead.


    I arrived early this morning after a weekend that left me drained. Late nights, too much


    alcohol¡ªboth of those were hard to bounce back from, especially for a man my age with a


    full week of responsibility ahead. My middle son, Dean, celebrated his eighth birthday at


    the bowling alley after our usual Sunday morning trip to the Methodist Church. Afterward,


    my wife and I attended a wedding for a dear friend¡ªthe kind of friend who also happens to


    own the local beer distillery. So, the reception was¡­ well, let¡¯s just say it was more lively


    than expected.


    I made my way to the Forensics Division, taking the elevator to the second floor. As I


    passed the secretary¡¯s station, I gave Dawn a friendly smile before walking down the


    narrow hallway that led to my office. That hallway always seemed to offer some kind of


    encounter¡ªsometimes a shoulder bump with a colleague you¡¯d rather avoid, inevitably


    leading to a five-minute conversation easily avoidable with a wider hallway.


    I opened the heavy glass door to my office and began preparing for the day. A striking blue


    sky, dotted with white clouds, was above, although I glanced out the window at the


    freeway, still choked with traffic. I picked up the first manila folder from the stack on my


    desk¡ªit was filled with classified material, including some graphic photos and police


    summaries from an active investigation.


    Just when I thought I had seen it all after fifteen years on the force, I remembered how a


    lead pen and a hammer could truly reshape a person¡¯s skull. As I reviewed the files, I


    heard a faint knock on my door before it swung open.


    ¡°Hey there, hotshot,


    ¡± said Kevin, a fellow detective. His energy was unusually high for this


    early in the morning, and his grin seemed to match.


    ¡°I heard you needed a ride home last


    night. I¡¯m surprised you made it in this early.


    ¡±


    ¡°Well, after the call I got at two this morning, I figured sleep was a lost cause,


    ¡± I said with a


    wry smile.


    ¡°And don¡¯t act like I¡¯m not a pro at dodging hangovers.


    ¡±


    Kevin was my partner¡ªactually, he was the first detective I hired when I was promoted


    three years ago to head the division. He¡¯d started as a general detective, but his aptitude


    and drive earned him a fast promotion to becoming unit leader.


    ¡°The police responded to a call early this morning from a home on Vensilla Street,


    ¡± I


    informed him.


    ¡°They found the body of an elderly woman, bloodied in her bed. When I


    spoke to the responders last night, I told them to secure the scene and that we¡¯d send your


    team over first thing in the morning to start gathering evidence. The scene should be pretty


    much untouched.


    ¡± I handed him the address on a small yellow sticky note.


    ¡°Get your crew together. We¡¯ll head over around nine.


    ¡±


    Kevin adjusted his reading glasses, scanning the address.


    ¡°We¡¯ll meet you there,


    ¡± he


    replied before walking out of the room.


    A few minutes later, as I was reading through another police summary, I was interrupted


    once again. This time, it was Dawn, my secretary.


    ¡°Good morning, Herb,


    ¡± she greeted me warmly.


    Dawn was the kind of person you could rely on¡ªcompassionate, kind, and always willing


    to help others, even at her own expense.


    ¡°I left a little gift for Dean on your desk on Friday,


    ¡± she said.


    ¡°I know you were out on a call,


    so I just left it by your computer.


    ¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I saw it,


    ¡± I replied.


    ¡°Sherry was upset with me for getting home so late. I didn¡¯t make


    it home until after nine.


    ¡±


    ¡°Oh my goodness, Herb. You really need to take some time off. You can¡¯t keep working


    these fourteen-hour days. Those kids of yours¡ªthey¡¯ll be grown before you know it. You


    need to be there for them.


    ¡±


    I sighed, considering her words.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always worked like this. It¡¯s a habit I picked up from


    my father. I haven¡¯t been able to shake it.


    ¡±


    ¡°When I was at Fort Knox, I¡¯d always get approval to stay late and load trucks for the next


    day. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to let the troops do all the heavy lifting in the morning.


    ¡±


    Dawn shook her head.


    ¡°The police will handle the urgent stuff. I appreciate your


    dedication, but you need a break. Your family needs you. Don¡¯t let these years slip by.


    ¡±


    For a brief moment, I mulled over her words. I understood what she was saying, but I


    struggled to find a balance.


    ¡°This agency needs my devotion. If I don¡¯t give everything I¡¯ve got, how can I live with


    myself? These cases won¡¯t close themselves.


    ¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so stubborn, Herb,


    ¡± she said with a soft chuckle. She walked closer, gently rubbing


    my shoulder with her weathered hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be honest with you, Dawn,


    ¡± I said, my tone shifting.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much faith that


    anyone else here can handle the darker aspects of this job. There¡¯s a darkness in this


    town that I¡¯m just starting to comprehend.


    ¡±


    I caught Dawn staring at the desk, her eyes wandering to the wooden box that sat on the


    corner, the only thing not covered in files or coffee mugs. A smile briefly reappeared on her


    face.


    ¡°What did Dean think of his present?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how you knew it was the exact book he wanted, but he loved it. It¡¯s already


    his favorite.


    ¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s perfect,


    ¡± she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.


    ¡°He pointed it out to me in a


    magazine last week.


    ¡±


    After a brief pause, I returned my attention to the case summary in front of me.


    ¡°I sent over a few emails this weekend,


    ¡± I said, shifting focus.


    ¡°Could you follow up on


    them? There are also assignment sheets for the crews you can distribute and some files I


    wrapped up that need filing.


    ¡±


    Dawn nodded.


    ¡°Anything else, Herb?¡±


    ¡°Decaf. Two sugars, one cream.


    ¡± I smirked.


    I peered out the window once more. Traffic had eased, and the day was beginning to settle


    into its usual rhythm. However, I was still preoccupied by the multitude of tasks ahead. I


    quickly made a list in my head¡ªSherry¡¯s doctor appointment was a priority. I couldn¡¯t


    afford to forget that.


    Dawn returned with my coffee and set it on the desk.


    ¡°I peeked into Jay¡¯s office. His lights are on, but I haven¡¯t seen him yet. Is he already at the


    house?¡±


    ¡°No,


    ¡± I replied, glancing at the clock.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t even had a chance to meet with him about


    it yet. The state is strongly recommending that we cut investigative positions to reduce


    spending.


    ¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re already stretched thin,


    ¡± she said, concern lining her face.


    ¡°If we lose more


    detectives, you¡¯ll never get to go home.


    ¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fighting it,


    ¡± I said.


    ¡°I have a meeting with the Lieutenant Governor tomorrow. It¡¯s a


    delicate relationship, so make sure the conference room is ready for us. We can¡¯t afford to


    start off on the wrong foot.


    ¡±


    Dawn raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Why is he so hard on you, Herb?¡±


    ¡°He wants answers,


    ¡± I said, regret heavy in my voice.


    ¡°And, truth be told, he¡¯s not wrong.


    The crime in Jeade is out of control. He thinks I can¡¯t fix it, and I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m able to


    prove him wrong yet.


    ¡±


    Dawn hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the window. I knew what she was


    thinking.


    ¡°The Lion is going to fall, Dawn,


    ¡± I said softly, my voice low with resolve.


    ¡°I can¡¯t sit on this


    much longer.


    ¡±


    Dawn looked at me with a mixture of concern and fear.


    At that moment, Jay poked his head into my office.


    ¡°Am I interrupting anything, Mr.


    Jackson?¡±


    ¡°No, come in. I have something for you.


    ¡± I handed him the weekly assignment sheet.


    ¡°I heard the agency is cutting a unit in June,


    ¡± he said, looking for confirmation.


    ¡°Nothing is certain yet,


    ¡± I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing everything I can to keep all four units we


    have.


    ¡±


    I glanced at the clock. Nine o¡¯clock was fast approaching.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I need to make a quick phone call,


    ¡± I told them.


    Dawn and Jay left the office, the door clicking softly behind them. I dialed our family


    physician¡¯s number to schedule Sherry¡¯s appointment.


    As always, Doc answered with a warm, scratchy voice.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Doc, it¡¯s Herb Jackson.


    ¡±


    ¡°Herb! How¡¯s everything going? How are the kids?¡±


    ¡°Well, I can hardly believe it, but Dean just turned eight this weekend. As for William, well,


    he¡¯s your typical teenager¡ªlives in the moment, makes poor decisions now and then.


    ¡±


    Doc chuckled.


    ¡°I hope it¡¯s not one of those poor decisions you¡¯re calling about.


    ¡±


    ¡°No, actually, it¡¯s Sherry. She¡¯s been dealing with some mild stomach pain, dizziness, and


    nausea over the last couple of weeks. It¡¯s bothering her enough that she insists on seeing


    you.


    ¡±


    ¡°How long has this been happening?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure. It could be anything, but I¡¯d appreciate it if you could take a look.


    Hopefully something simple¡ªa quick check up and prescription.


    ¡±


    ¡°For an old friend like you, I¡¯ll make time. I¡¯m booked tomorrow, but I can see her around


    five when the office closes.


    ¡± he offers.


    ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver, Doc. She¡¯ll be thrilled.


    ¡±


    Once the call ends, I immediately dial Sherry. It¡¯s strange how quickly she¡¯s come down


    with something. She¡¯s never one to make a fuss over minor pain or discomfort.


    ¡°Sherry?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re calling. Is everything okay?¡± she asks.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, I rarely hear from you, Herb. It¡¯s just odd that you¡¯re calling me during your workday.


    Do you not have a heavy caseload, or are you waiting until it¡¯s time to come home this


    evening to start your day?¡±


    ¡°Sherry, is this really necessary?¡± I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.


    I can sense she has more to say, but before she does, I hear her swallow back her words,


    and her tone shifts¡ªthere¡¯s a noticeable emotional change.


    ¡°The kids feel like you¡¯ve abandoned them. We haven¡¯t even had the chance to talk about


    it. Do you have time?¡± she asks, pausing for a response. I don¡¯t immediately reply,


    choosing instead to listen to the silence, knowing she¡¯ll continue in a few moments.


    ¡°You


    decided not to coach William this year in baseball, which is strange considering you¡¯ve


    coached him for the last eight years. It would be nice if you would talk to him,


    ¡± she adds,


    her voice soft but firm.


    ¡°I will,


    ¡± I assure her.


    ¡°When you do come home, you¡¯re pretty much dead to the world for the night. I know how


    exhausted you are, but you don¡¯t tell me about your day. I don¡¯t know how you feel about


    anything anymore. I couldn¡¯t even tell you the last time you kissed me.


    ¡±


    ¡°Sherry¡­


    ¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been sick, and you haven¡¯t been here.


    ¡±


    ¡°Honey, I told you I would schedule you an appointment.


    ¡±


    ¡°Do you realize this is the most we¡¯ve talked in the last week?¡± she responds quietly.


    ¡°You¡¯re being awfully harsh right now, Sherry. How is this fair? I spent the entire weekend


    with you.


    ¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit, Herb!¡± she snaps.


    ¡°At our son¡¯s birthday party, you sat at the back table in


    the bowling alley, flipping through file folders. I¡¯m sure it felt just like any other day for him.


    ¡±


    She pauses, and the weight of her words sinks in.


    ¡°We had a great time at the wedding,


    ¡± I remind her, trying to grasp at a positive moment.


    ¡°Yes, for most of it,


    ¡± she agrees, her voice edged with bitterness.


    ¡°You got so drunk that


    you started making a fool of yourself in front of people who I need votes from in November.


    You finally let yourself relax, and you had no idea how to handle it.


    ¡±


    Sherry is running for city council. I don¡¯t quite understand why she¡¯s worried about what


    voters will think about a wedding reception.


    ¡°I could barely even eat last night,


    ¡± she continues.


    ¡°I vomited constantly throughout the


    evening, unable to keep anything down.


    ¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no winning with you,


    ¡± I mutter under my breath.


    ¡°Why are you concerned about winning, Herb?¡± she responds sharply.


    ¡°I scheduled your appointment,


    ¡± I say after a brief pause. She can undoubtedly hear the


    resignation in my voice.


    ¡°Tomorrow at five. Dr. Richardson was kind enough to make


    special arrangements to see you.


    ¡±


    ¡°Principal Lambert wants to meet with one of us tomorrow after school to discuss her


    concerns with William. I won¡¯t be able to do both, so you¡¯ll have to help me,


    ¡± she says, her


    voice strained.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call the school and see if Mrs. Lambert has time after school to talk to us today. I¡¯ll


    leave work early tomorrow so I can go with you to Dr. Richardson¡¯s office. I want to be


    there,


    ¡± I respond. I can hear her starting to cry through the phone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,


    ¡± I say, my


    voice thick with guilt.


    For ten or fifteen seconds, neither of us speaks. During that silence, I make a silent


    promise to myself. I¡¯ll change. I¡¯ll focus on restoring my marriage and being there for my


    wife and kids. But each moment of regret I feel, another thought reminds me I spend every


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    minute of overtime trying to protect them. This is a battle I fight every day.


    Sherry and I go way back. We were high school sweethearts¡ªthe two everyone looked for


    between classes. We¡¯d sneak behind the theater¡¯s thick black curtains, or we¡¯d kiss under


    the back staircase. We carved our names into nearly every wooden surface in that school.


    When we weren¡¯t in school, we were out causing trouble somewhere else. We spent


    nearly every evening, weekend, and holiday together. Her younger brother played baseball


    year-round¡ªgames at least three nights a week¡ªso we attended most of them. But on


    some nights, we¡¯d sneak away to the car parked outside the stadium. After graduation, we


    went our separate ways to college, but made time to see each other every weekend. She


    majored in business at one of the most prestigious schools in our state, while I stayed local


    to study forensic science. After she graduated with a business degree, she returned to


    school for a second degree in political science. That was when I enlisted in the Army.


    The next three years were the hardest of my life. We were apart more than we ever had


    been before. We wrote letters as often as possible, but when I was sent to Afghanistan,


    our communication was cut off for months until I returned to Fort Knox. The day I was


    discharged was one of the best days of my life. On the flight home, I thought constantly


    about how I would make up for the lost time, how excited I was to finally be with her again.


    Seven weeks after I got off that plane, we received the news that we were going to be


    parents for the first time. She was beginning her career in finance, and I had started as a


    patrolman with the police department. It seemed like everything we had dreamed about as


    kids was finally coming together. After nine difficult months, Sherry¡¯s complicated


    pregnancy ended, and she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Daisy. We were overjoyed,


    but more nervous than we had ever been. Complications during the birth kept her in the


    hospital longer than expected, and we quickly realized the extent of her injuries¡ªand the


    challenges she¡¯d face if she managed to pull through. She fought for a week on a


    ventilator, but ultimately, it wasn¡¯t enough to save her.


    Her passing devastated me. We had witnessed our greatest joy turn into one of the most


    difficult trials we would ever face. We knew that if we could get through that, we could face


    anything else life threw our way. It took several months before we even considered trying


    again, but when we did, we were blessed with William.


    That boy is grown now. He¡¯s tall, stubborn, just like his father¡ªand his mother. He


    inherited every great quality Sherry has: keen athletic ability, a priceless smile, and just a


    bit too little patience. I¡¯ve let him down, I know that. Sherry¡¯s the campaigner; I have no


    business running for father of the year. The painful truth is that Sherry¡¯s words are not


    without merit. The worst part is, they confirm everything I¡¯ve been trying to find excuses


    for.


    ¡°Hey, hotshot! Did you decide not to come or what?¡± Kevin asked as he entered my office.


    I glanced up at the clock¡ªit was already two minutes past nine.


    ¡°Oh, shoot!¡± I exclaimed, louder than intended. In a quieter tone, I added,


    ¡°Sorry, Kev. I¡¯m


    running a bit behind.


    ¡± I quickly explained,


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a minute¡ªlet me just shut down


    my computer.


    ¡±


    I began putting files away in the cabinet and closing tabs on my laptop.


    ¡°Herb, are you alright?¡± Kevin asked, his voice tinged with concern.


    I nodded, choosing not to delve into any unnecessary explanations. It was better to leave


    the conversation there. Instead, I focused on the task ahead¡ªheading to Vensilla Street to


    investigate the night-time murder.


    ¡°Keep it together. Keep it together,


    ¡± I whispered under my breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading to Vensilla Street. If I get any calls, Dawn, please forward them to my


    voicemail. I¡¯ll be back by noon.


    ¡± I said, passing her desk.


    I left the agency parking lot and pulled onto the two-lane road, taking a sharp left onto


    another road before speeding up the freeway ramp. Since the school and work traffic had


    quieted down for the day, I flew down the highway and took the third exit, heading into one


    of Jeade¡¯s largest residential areas near the college. Street after street of homes, packed


    tightly together, lined the neighborhood. The yards were lush with Spring-green Bermuda


    grass, still dewy from yesterday¡¯s rain. The sun filtered through the oak trees, casting


    gentle shadows over a little boy sitting beneath one. It felt like any ordinary, peaceful


    morning¡ªquiet, calm, and unhurried. The sounds of birds chirping and lawn mowers


    humming replaced the buzz of the city¡¯s downtown chaos.


    ¡°This neighborhood isn¡¯t usually where we find incidents like this,


    ¡± I radioed to the other


    cars.


    ¡°Everything seems normal here. I assume most people haven¡¯t caught wind of this


    yet.


    ¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s definitely strange to be here for a homicide,


    ¡± a member of Kevin¡¯s unit radioed back.


    ¡°Are you almost here?¡± Kevin¡¯s voice came through the radio.


    ¡°I¡¯m turning onto Vensilla Street from Park Street now,


    ¡± I replied.


    I passed a few more houses, each with gleaming sidings, vibrant doors, and meticulously


    trimmed yards. Then I arrived at 32 Vensilla Street¡ªthe scene of the homicide. The


    house, though modest, stood out with its yellow door and bright red shingles. Other than


    the police tape around it, the house fit right in with the rest of the neighborhood.


    ¡°I feel so out of place,


    ¡± I muttered aloud as I stepped out of the car and shut the door


    behind me.


    Kevin and another officer followed me to the front entrance. We donned shoe covers and


    gloves to prevent contaminating any evidence. The body had already been removed, sent


    off for examination, but no other physical evidence had been taken from the house.


    ¡°Ms. Marsh lived alone?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s been widowed for years. Lonnie moved out after high school, so she¡¯s been living


    alone ever since,


    ¡± Kevin explained. Lonnie, a fellow police officer, was a regular at meeting


    up with our team for lunch dates.


    ¡°I bet he¡¯s devastated,


    ¡± one detective said.


    ¡°I was thinking about stopping by his house tonight, taking him a card, maybe offering


    some company for a while. Losing a mother¡¯s hard¡ªespecially since his father¡¯s also


    gone. He¡¯s grieving alone.


    ¡± I suggested.


    They seemed sympathetic toward Lonnie, and I¡¯m sure most of them considered joining


    me. But Kevin, always focused, didn¡¯t seem interested in small talk. He was already deep


    in the crime scene.


    ¡°Through here, guys,


    ¡± a police officer directed us as he led us through the house and into


    the bedroom.


    ¡°The medical examiner believes she was sleeping when the attack occurred.


    She was in this bed.


    ¡±


    ¡°Has the lab confirmed the cause of death?¡± I asked.


    I called the laboratory to see if they had any leads regarding the cause of Miss Marsh¡¯s


    death and any potential murder weapons related to her injuries.


    ¡°We think we have a


    diagnosis, Mr. Jackson,


    ¡± a technician informed me.


    ¡°There are many puncture wounds, so


    we have to expect the killer used some sort of sharp object. We found several broken


    bones, bruises around her stomach, chest, and upper legs, as well as a severe skull


    fracture.


    ¡±


    I covered my mouth, processing the information.


    ¡°So, this was a brutal beating? A brutal


    stabbing? She never stood a chance.


    ¡±


    After a few clarifying questions, the call ended. We were all well-trained investigators, so


    there was no need for lengthy team meetings or assigning tasks. The front door seemed


    intact, which made it unlikely that it had been forced open. Kevin began examining the


    exterior windows, checking for fingerprints or signs that someone had climbed or peeked


    inside. I focused my attention on the bedroom where Ms. Marsh had been killed. There


    were no signs of theft or any damage to her belongings¡ªeverything appeared


    undisturbed.


    ¡°Mayor Meyers is out front, Herb,


    ¡± one of the detectives informed me.


    I looked out the window. Mayor Meyers was standing beside his new green truck, still


    gleaming from his recent purchase. He appeared just as puzzled as we were when we


    arrived.


    ¡°This is crazy. This city used to be one of the safest in the state,


    ¡± he said to a


    group of officers standing nearby.


    ¡°It all started when they put that highway right through


    the middle of us. Once businesses started rolling in, our crime rate shot up. The economic


    benefits are great, but incidents like this make it frustrating to develop this community.


    ¡±


    I approached the truck. The mayor, with his high and tight black hair, had a few graying


    patches in his stubble. His long-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled


    up to his elbows. He wore his usual disheveled style: no tie, shirt untucked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just get a new truck last year?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°And who picks


    your colors?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s good to see you too, Mr. Jackson,


    ¡± he said dryly.


    ¡°I have full faith you¡¯ll get to the


    bottom of this.


    ¡±


    ¡°Meyers, we¡¯re doing our best, just like we always do,


    ¡± I replied, trying to remind him that


    we didn¡¯t need any judgment from elected officials like him, especially those who are so


    quick to blame the highway for their negligence.


    ¡°What¡¯s the story?¡± he asked, squinting toward the house. He had no clearance to enter.


    ¡°Stay out here, Meyers. It¡¯s a crime scene,


    ¡± I said firmly.


    ¡°She was found around two this morning. We¡¯ve still got a lot of work to do, and it¡¯ll take


    time to identify suspects,


    ¡± Kevin added from the doorstep.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit strange that someone like Ms. Marsh would have any visitors at that hour,


    ¡± the


    mayor mused. He was trying to sound like he had a breakthrough.


    ¡°This is terrible.


    ¡±


    Kevin continued his conversation with Meyers while I slipped back into the house. I was


    trying to focus on the evidence and ignore the distractions. Then, I could hear a phone


    ring¡ªa sudden, alarming ringtone that quickly caught my attention.


    Meyers, looking concerned, pulled out his phone to answer, likely the source of his sudden


    anxiety. I motioned for Kevin to rejoin me inside.


    ¡°We¡¯ve done most of what we can for now,


    ¡± I told him. I pointed to the team of officers.


    ¡°Tell


    them to wrap up their exterior checks. We¡¯ll review the photographs later, and the evidence


    will go to forensics. The lack of a motive here is troubling, we will have to interview the


    family.


    ¡±


    I glanced out the door and saw the mayor ending his call. I signaled to the officers,


    instructing them to clear out.


    ¡°Meyers, we¡¯re wrapping up. I just need to board up the


    windows and lock the door.


    ¡±


    ¡°Well, if you insist,


    ¡± he said, walking away.


    ¡°The lodge was calling. Apparently, we have a


    leadership meeting this afternoon.


    ¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget the Lieutenant Governor will be in town tomorrow.


    ¡± I remind him, already


    knowing that he wouldn¡¯t miss an opportunity to rub elbows with powerful figures. Mayor


    Meyers was smart¡ªslick¡ªslimy, like any self-serving politician would be.


    After everyone left, I stayed behind, lost in my thoughts. I had a lot on my mind¡ªSherry¡¯s


    anger, William¡¯s school problems, Dean¡¯s disastrous birthday party. Kevin had gone with


    the others, leaving me alone with my thoughts.


    I covered the exterior windows with wood to prevent curious neighbors from peering in. As


    I stepped back and checked that everything was secure, I noticed the basement door was


    wide open at the back of the house.


    Why had Kevin not shut this?


    The basement was pitch black, with only a sliver of light filtering through the open


    doorway. I grabbed my flashlight and ventured inside, the darkness closing in around me.


    The basement was filled with boxes¡ªhoarded school supplies from Ms. Marsh¡¯s


    retirement. I began moving through the rooms, shining my light into each corner. It seemed


    to grow darker the deeper I went, and the unease inside me began to intensify. There were


    so many hiding places¡ªso many places where someone could be lurking.


    I noticed a fresh wet footprint on the floor, still damp from the morning dew outside. It


    wasn¡¯t mine. Someone else was in here.


    My heart raced. I pulled my gun from its holster, realizing I wasn¡¯t alone. My hand trembled


    as I carefully moved forward. I shined my flashlight into the shadows, but saw nothing. I


    tried to steady my breath, my body freezing in place.


    Then, I saw him.


    A man emerged from the darkness. I recognized that shirt, that hair, that face. I knew who


    he was. The Lion.


    He grabbed my arm with a tight grip, pinning it against the wall before I could react. My


    flashlight flew from my hand, and before I could do anything, he twisted my wrist, forcing


    the gun from my grip. His strength was overwhelming as he pressed me into the wall.


    I struggled to break free, as he tightened his hold around my neck. Though the pressure


    made my vision blur, I saw another figure appear out of the darkness. I start to fade,


    feeling myself start to lose consciousness. Then I felt it ¡ª the blade. It penetrated my skin


    with a sharp sting, cutting through the flesh just below my right eye. Pain exploded through


    my face as he slashed again across my neck.


    I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My head was spinning. My breaths were ragged.


    And then, everything went dark. I am dying. I could no longer feel anything.


    And even though my eyes are closed¡ªI can see. Dean sitting on his bed, munching on


    Teddy Grahams. There I was reading him a bedtime story. William¡¯s triumphant smile after


    hitting a homerun at the baseball field. He looks so proud.


    And then it was gone. It was dark. This time, a much greater darkness than I¡¯ve ever seen


    before.


    Complete, total, pitch black darkness.

 Chapter 1: Opening Day

    Chapter 1: Opening Day10 Years Later ¨C 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¡ªthough 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¡ªit 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¡ªjust 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¡ªsomehow, 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¡ªWilliam, 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¡ªthe 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¡ªa ¡°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¡ªsome 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¡ªKevin 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¡ªmainly, 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¡ªLauren¡¯s older brother¡ªhanging 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¡ªprobably 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¡ªshe¡¯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¡ªMom¡¯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¡ªshe 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.

 Chapter 2: Corned Beef and Cabbage

    Chapter 2: Corned Beef and Cabbage


    I sit in an old wooden desk, one of those where the chair is permanently attached, forcing me to cramp my legs against the sides. It''s the first day of college. We¡¯re all adrift, unsure of what comes next: where to eat, where to park. It¡¯s vastly different from high school¡ªteachers seem distant, and the others around seem to barely notice you. We¡¯re strangers in this new world, and I can¡¯t shake the feeling that we''re all just marking time.  I don¡¯t recognize any other person from Jeade. Not many stay local after high school.


    The college itself feels like another institution on the slow decline into financial instability. I can''t help but wonder if it¡¯ll even survive the next four years. I glance around the room. The walls are covered with Shakespearean quotes and posters, and the bookshelves are packed with textbooks that haven¡¯t been touched in decades. A soft tick from the second hand of the clock fills the silence, but doesn¡¯t seem to move quickly enough. We¡¯re given no direction, no help in navigating who we are or what we¡¯re supposed to become. It already feels like a checklist: show up, check. Show up three times a week, check. If we fulfill these basic requirements, maybe, just maybe, this freshman seminar will become a distant memory.


    I look down at the page in the dull academic manual, its contents blurring into the same paragraphs I¡¯ve been staring at for the past thirty-five minutes. Do they really think we haven¡¯t already gone through this catalog before enrolling? The same bolded graduation requirements mock me from the corner of the page¡ªso formal, so daunting. High school just ended. How is it already time for this?


    ¡°Can I have everyone¡¯s attention, please?¡± Professor Viola¡¯s voice interrupts my thoughts. ¡°We have some new business to discuss before the end of class today.¡±


    The room stirs as students shut their manuals, some already shoving them into their backpacks, preparing for dismissal. The bell¡ªor whatever marks the end of class¡ªcan¡¯t be far off. At this point, we¡¯ve learned that when Professor Viola speaks, time seems to stretch. She loves to talk. It¡¯s almost as if she enjoys overwhelming us with information. She must know how lost we feel.


    She hands out a paper, and the class falls silent again.


    ¡°As you can see from the title of this assignment, we¡¯ll be starting a project about a career of your choosing. This is not meant to be a formal presentation¡ªjust a simple homework task designed to encourage some exploration and self-reflection. Your decision time is limited before you¡¯ll have to declare a major. Next week, we¡¯ll start outlining the courses you¡¯ll follow for the next four years, and the path you choose here will likely mirror the path you take through life,¡± she explains. ¡°Presentations will begin tomorrow.¡±


    A few students audibly gasp. I¡¯m not one to panic about assignments, but I can¡¯t help but feel annoyed. It''s the first day, my first class, and now I¡¯m already being asked to write a paper?


    ¡°I understand this might feel overwhelming,¡± Professor Viola continues, ¡°but this project is more about getting to know yourselves and your classmates. I promise, it won¡¯t take long to complete. And remember, you¡¯re not locked into your choice¡ªyou¡¯ll have a few more weeks before you have to declare a major.¡±


    She gestures to the handout in front of us. ¡°Per the rubric, you¡¯ll need to choose a career that interests you. Write at least two pages explaining why you chose that field, the daily responsibilities of someone in that career, its societal benefits, and the education and skills needed to succeed. Once your paper is finished, you¡¯ll outline a short speech summarizing the key points. This project will be your first heavy grade, so please don¡¯t approach it lightly. I encourage you to pick something that you can relate to personally, something that will allow you to offer a unique perspective.¡±


    What on earth am I going to write about? I¡¯ve had several career ideas over the years, but they¡¯ve all changed with time. For a while, I wanted to be a doctor¡ªuntil that emergency trip to the hospital two years ago, when I swore I¡¯d never step foot in one again. The nurse poured some liquid on my cut that felt like gasoline on raw skin, and I jumped out of the bed screaming. I cursed that poor nurse for five minutes straight.


    For a time, I thought about being a fish biologist. That dream soured, though, when I learned that was Mayor Meyers¡¯ background. I don¡¯t want him to have any claim over my career choice, nor do I want anyone to think he influenced me. I just don¡¯t know anymore. This project could not have come at a worse time.


    As I sat in that creaky chair, the minutes dragged on, my mind racing with possibilities, none of which felt right. A teaching career popped into my head, but not because I¡¯m passionate about it. Maybe I could gain some sympathy points from the professor, though I quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way I could fake my way through a paper and presentation about loving school when I¡¯m just trying to scrape by these four years. There¡¯s no way I would ever make a career of that.


    ¡°What are you doing yours on?¡± a voice asks. I turn to see the cute brunette from the desk behind.


    ¡°I was thinking... a male stripper,¡± I say with a grin. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about the clientele. Do you think I could pull it off?¡±


    She giggles.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± she replies, still laughing.


    ¡°To be honest, I have no idea,¡± I admit, turning back to my manual.


    ¡°I want to be a veterinarian,¡± she says. ¡°Third-generation vet.¡±


    ¡°A family legacy,¡± I comment.


    ¡°Yep. My grandma, Valerie, founded Val¡¯s Village in Clemendale. My mom took over when she retired. Now she runs the practice.¡±


    ¡°The Village?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we call it. No teepees or small towns here¡ªit¡¯s just a name. Vet Val¡¯s Village. It has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think? It looks like a zoo, quite a nice theme.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s got a lot of /vvv/ sounds,¡± I say, smiling.


    ¡°It¡¯s called alliteration, silly,¡± she laughs. ¡°What do your parents do?¡±


    ¡°My mom works for the city. Sherry Jackson¡ªshe¡¯s the councilwoman for the second district.¡±


    Her eyes light up. ¡°Sherry Jackson is your mom? Oh my goodness!¡±


    I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and discomfort. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And your dad... he¡¯s so nice. My family loves the Mayor.¡± she says, clearly starstruck.


    My heart sinks. What is she talking about? Do people actually think this? If it weren¡¯t for her being so cute, I might have walked out of the room right then and vomited.


    ¡°Oh no, he¡¯s not my dad,¡± I say, trying to hide my shock. ¡°You¡¯re totally wrong.¡±


    She looks confused. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°My mom and the Mayor are friends, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to explain,¡± she says quickly, giving me an understanding smile. ¡°So what does your dad do then?¡±


    ¡°Well... he works out of town. He¡¯s actually in Afghanistan right now.¡± The words slip out before I can stop them. It¡¯s partly true¡ªhe was deployed there before¡ªbut I don¡¯t want to dive into it.


    ¡°Is he in the military?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s been gone for a while. Hopefully, he¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    I need to change the subject, but my words get tangled. ¡°What are you doing tonight?¡±


    She looks surprised, but pleasantly so. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing tonight?¡± I repeat, feeling bolder this time.


    ¡°My grandmother¡¯s having us over for dinner. She¡¯s making corned beef and cabbage, which I¡¯m not crazy about, but it¡¯s my parents'' favorite. We usually play cards after dinner,¡± she says.


    I pause, taken aback. Family dinners? That sounds nice... too nice.


    ¡°You could join us,¡± she offers.


    ¡°What?¡± I say, hoping desperately she would insist to ask a second time. I don¡¯t even know her name. ¡°I just met you. You could be a foreign asset.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d love to have you. Just meet me at the pump station on Clemendale Road at 5:00. I¡¯ll give you a ride from there. That¡¯ll give me enough time to get ready and update my Russian contacts.¡± she winks.


    I can¡¯t refuse. Her warmth and sincerity are irresistible. ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± I agree.


    The class has mostly cleared out now. How did we not hear the bell? There¡¯s no bell here, I guess. I gather my things quickly, and as I shove my papers into my bag, I hear her voice again.


    ¡°Lacey Shepler,¡± she says, turning to leave.


    ¡°Dean Jackson,¡± I reply, watching as she walks out of the room.


    ¡°Mr. Jackson.¡±


    There are still four more classes today. I can¡¯t focus¡ªmy mind keeps drifting to tonight. I¡¯ve got a date.


    ¡°Mr. Jackson!¡± Professor Viola calls again, her voice sharp. ¡°Are you alright, Mr. Jackson?¡±


    I stammer, ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine.¡± I scramble to grab my bookbag off the floor.


    ¡°If you weren¡¯t aware,¡± she continues, ¡°it¡¯s time for your next class.¡± She gestures toward the hallway, ushering me out.


    I step into the dimly lit corridor, a broad grin on my face, one that feels too wide to be contained¡ªstretching wider than John Candy. The hallway is quiet, no sight of lockers like those I¡¯d grown accustomed to in high school. The second class is just down the hall, and the third class is in a completely different building. The general education schedule, I realize, is meant to separate the students, offer a wide range of courses to produce what they consider to be ¡°well-rounded graduates¡±. By the time I reach my fourth class, I haven¡¯t seen a trace of Lacey, that green-eyed girl from the first class.


    It¡¯s not so bad, I tell myself. The seminar was dry, and the others¡ªstandard novice level fare: writing, algebra, and a quick dive into ancient civilizations. When the day wraps up, I exit through a side door and walk along the cracked sidewalk leading to the student parking lot at the rear of the campus. I reach my car and pull my phone from my pocket, eager to call William. He¡¯s not going to believe what happened today.


    ¡°Will. Hey, you won¡¯t believe it,¡± I say, excitement creeping into my voice.


    ¡°College must be treating you well. Already scoring with someone?¡± he teases.


    ¡°There¡¯s this girl, Lacey Shepler,¡± I begin.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve heard of her. What¡¯s the big deal?¡± he replies, indifferent.


    ¡°She¡¯s gorgeous,¡± I tell him. ¡°And, if I told you I¡¯ve got a date with her, would you be proud of me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d give you a handshake. How¡¯d you pull that off?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Meet me at the downtown parlor. I¡¯ll tell you everything,¡± I say.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m on my way,¡± he answers before hanging up.


    I drive out of the parking lot, heading toward Main Street, passing four traffic lights and making a left turn. It¡¯s a familiar stretch¡ªthe kind of street that¡¯s home to the best pretzel bun hotdogs, the finest local brewery, and, of course, The Ice Cream Company.


    I park on the side of the street and pay for thirty minutes of parking, then step into the parlor. William is already sitting at a booth in the back, away from the bright sunlight that seeps in through the front. It¡¯s a shorter trip from my house, but I know he hasn¡¯t been waiting long. The parlor is bustling with high schoolers grabbing their after-school snacks, but William stands up when he sees me, offering a handshake, as promised.


    ¡°Look me in the eye and tell me you¡¯re going on a date tonight,¡± he says, unsure whether to believe me.


    I meet his gaze and nod, the grin on my face so wide I can barely form the words. His expression softens after a moment, and then he cracks a smile too.


    William has already ordered ice cream bowls, and a waitress drops them off at our table. He digs in, still looking at me with a mix of disbelief and amusement.


    ¡°Raspberry¡ªthat¡¯s Anna¡¯s favorite too,¡± I comment as he takes a spoonful. ¡°You¡¯ve got a sweet tooth today.¡±


    I didn¡¯t intentionally change the mood.


    ¡°She¡¯s doing better today,¡± William says. ¡°I think she was just embarrassed. Everyone saw what happened. She¡¯s still just a kid¡ªit¡¯s hard to shake something like that off.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I reply quietly. ¡°She didn¡¯t want to talk about it last night. I gave her some space.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t blame us. She doesn¡¯t blame anyone,¡± he assures me. ¡°Don¡¯t let Mayor Meyers guilt-trip you over it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. I¡¯m just... worried about her,¡± I admit.


    I don¡¯t want to keep talking about it. It¡¯s stealing my focus, and I¡¯ve got enough on my mind. Tonight, I¡¯ve got something to be excited about. Fortunately, a couple of old friends from the neighborhood walk in, and they notice us in the back. They¡¯re guys I grew up with, though we drifted apart in high school. William, however, has kept in touch with them. They were very close.


    ¡°Hey, hey!¡± William greets them, scooting over to make space at the table.


    I shift across the booth, making room for one of them also.


    ¡°What¡¯s new?¡± Gabe asks. We haven¡¯t caught up since last summer.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you asked,¡± I say, leaning in with a grin. ¡°I¡¯ve got a date with Lacey Shepler. She¡¯s from Clemendale.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what you¡¯ve got planned,¡± William points out. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a beautiful night. You should take a walk or something.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re actually having dinner,¡± I say. ¡°And she wants me to meet her family.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± William says, his tone shifting slightly. ¡°You sure you want to rush things? Moving awfully fast, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Meeting the family already?¡± Gabe chuckles. ¡°You didn¡¯t waste any time.¡±


    ¡°So, what are you doing at dinner?¡± Shawn asks, eager for details.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be her parents and grandparents,¡± I explain. ¡°Her grandma¡¯s cooking, and then they play card games afterward.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a cozy family night,¡± Gabe remarks. ¡°But, man, you¡¯ve got to watch yourself. Anything past second base, and you¡¯re in danger. Imagine her grandma walking in on you two. She¡¯d have a heart attack.¡±


    ¡°There won¡¯t be any ¡®action¡¯ tonight,¡± I clarify. ¡°We¡¯re working on a school project.¡±


    ¡°A school project?¡± William raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°This sounds like an excuse for a date if I¡¯ve ever heard one. Grandma, homework, what is this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a career exploration project. Due tomorrow,¡± I say, trying to explain.


    William doesn¡¯t respond right away. Instead, he says, with an almost disappointed tone, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re falling for that.¡±


    Gabe and Shawn nod in agreement. I don¡¯t get it.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, confused. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the classic move,¡± William says. ¡°She¡¯s probably using you to get her project done. Every pretty girl has that trick up their sleeve. She¡¯ll ask you to write her paper and save her the hassle. If you¡¯re lucky, you might get a kiss, but after tonight, she won¡¯t have anything to do with you.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± I insist. ¡°You didn¡¯t see how into me she was. She¡¯s not faking it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but given how quickly she¡¯s asked you out, I wouldn¡¯t be so sure of that,¡± Shawn adds. ¡°Just don¡¯t get your hopes up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had instances like this before.¡± Gabe adds. ¡°It never lasts long.¡±


    Before I can respond, I hear the unmistakable sound of a tow truck outside, the beeping of its reverse signal growing louder. Through the window, I see the truck slowly pulling toward my car.


    ¡°Crap!¡± I mutter, leaping out of the booth and heading for the door.


    ¡°Sir! That¡¯s my car! It¡¯s my Challenger!¡± I shout at the tow truck driver, but he barely acknowledges me.


    ¡°Son, you paid for parking fifty-eight minutes ago,¡± he says without turning. ¡°The sign clearly states the parking limit is thirty minutes. You¡¯re double your time.¡±


    ¡°Please, I paid the fee,¡± I protest, frustrated. ¡°My mom works for the city. I¡¯m sure she can sort this out.¡±


    He barely glances at me. ¡°Tell your mom if she¡¯s got an issue, she can talk to the council about increasing the time limits. Otherwise, your car will be towed to the garage. There¡¯s a $500 fee to release it.¡±


    I mutter under my breath, ¡°What a jerk.¡±


    I return into the parlor, my frustration evident.


    ¡°Everything alright?¡± William asks, though I know he saw the whole thing unfold.


    ¡°Thanks for the backup, kind brother,¡± I say sarcastically.


    ¡°This kind brother will drive you wherever you need to go tonight,¡± William assures me, flashing a grin. ¡°That guy gets paid minimum wage to tow cars and look like Mick Dodge while doing it. Don¡¯t let it ruin your night. This is a huge moment for you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll probably tow your truck next,¡± I warn. ¡°We better get out of here.¡±


    We wave goodbye to Gabe and Shawn and head out the door. We make our way to William¡¯s old pick-up parked behind the bank.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you liked Aerosmith,¡± William comments as I turn up the radio.


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I reply. ¡°But it¡¯s better than silence.¡±


    ¡°What do you think Mom¡¯s going to say?¡± I ask, already dreading the conversation.


    ¡°About your car being towed?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s already upset with us.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll probably be able to call and get the car back with no trouble,¡± William reassures me. ¡°Between her and Richie, they¡¯ve got this town figured out.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Mayor Meyers really blasted us yesterday. I¡¯m not sure one of them will want to help me now.¡±


    ¡°Mom¡¯s had time to cool off. I¡¯m surprised she hasn¡¯t been blowing you up asking about her baby¡¯s first day of college.¡± William says, throwing in a playful jab.


    I still doubt whether they would help me or not. I am an adult now.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drive us home. You can get ready for your date,¡± William continues. ¡°Tonight, I¡¯ll talk to Mom about the car. Don¡¯t worry about that right now.¡±


    I give him a small smile, not entirely sure what to make of his sincerity. But for once, I¡¯m glad to have him in my corner.


    When we arrived at the house, I found a clean pair of jeans¡ªno rips¡ªand a neatly pressed long-sleeve shirt. After a quick shower, a touch of cologne, and last-minute research to prepare for our projects, the clock read 4:30. I slipped on my special occasion watch, securing the sleek black band around my wrist. The gold edging around the face made it stand out, but it was the glossy black dial with its shining gold hands that gave it an air of exclusivity¡ªas if I had stolen it from a Trump or a Bloomberg.


    I descended the stairs and entered the living room, where William sat on the couch, flipping through a sports magazine.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah. Where are we headed?¡±


    ¡°The pump station on Clemendale Road,¡± I replied. ¡°You¡¯ll need to drive fast. I can¡¯t afford to keep her waiting.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± he assured me. ¡°Nice watch.¡±


    We climbed into his truck and set off, the engine rumbling as we headed back into town.


    ¡°Are you nervous?¡± William asked.


    ¡°No, I just think it¡¯s a bit cold in here,¡± I said, though my legs betrayed me, trembling uncontrollably.


    ¡°Let me give you some advice,¡± he began.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, glancing at him. This is unusual.


    ¡°A few years ago, when I met Lauren, I was terrified of messing things up. Here¡¯s the thing¡ªyou¡¯ve just got to be yourself. For me, it wasn¡¯t about the trophies or the weightlifting, and for you, it shouldn¡¯t be about the watch you¡¯re wearing or how smart you are. If she¡¯s genuinely into you for the right reasons, tonight¡¯s going to be perfect.¡±


    As we neared the pump station parking lot, it was dark, heavily shaded by surrounding trees. Only a few distant lights from The Village pierced the night. A black Mercedes SUV was parked by the road¡¯s edge. William pulled his rusted truck up next to it, and I climbed out, feeling more than a little out of place next to the luxury vehicle. At least it was dusty. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, walking toward it.


    When I reached the car, I saw Lacey sitting in the backseat, her eyes eagerly fixed on me. Her mother sat in the driver¡¯s seat, also looking my way, while her father occupied the passenger seat. Unlike the others, he was using the side mirror to study my approach.


    ¡°Hi, Dean,¡± Lacey greeted me softly as I opened the door.


    Her mother couldn¡¯t have been older than her late twenties. With her straight blonde hair and meticulously maintained appearance, she clearly took great care of herself. She smiled warmly at me and said, ¡°We¡¯re so glad you could join us tonight, Dean.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for having me, Mrs. Shepler. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet all of you,¡± I said, extending my hand to the front of the car.


    ¡°Aww, you¡¯re so sweet,¡± Mrs. Shepler said, shaking my hand with a warm smile. I turned to Mr. Shepler, offering my hand. He barely moved, acknowledging it with a stiff nod before shaking it with a firm grip, his eyes returning to the mirror.


    The moment was awkward, and I stood there waiting for someone to speak, unsure of what to say next. Mrs. Shepler broke the silence as she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.


    ¡°My parents are thrilled you¡¯re joining us for dinner. They don¡¯t get many guests anymore,¡± she remarked. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it surprised us when Lacey said she wanted to bring a boy over,¡± she added with a laugh.


    ¡°It caught me off guard, too, Mrs. Shepler,¡± I replied, trying to ease the tension. Lacey giggled beside me, and Mr. Shepler, still silent, didn¡¯t appear to have stopped watching me through the rearview mirror.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally. He doesn¡¯t talk much to new people. He¡¯s afraid he comes off too intimidating,¡± Mrs. Shepler explained.


    I decided to crack a joke to break the ice. ¡°Well, Mr. Shepler, instead of being intimidating, you come off as mute. Do you speak?¡±


    I could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Lacey and Mrs. Shepler both laughed, so I must¡¯ve been on the right track. It seemed like they all had a good sense of humor, and Lacey¡ªwell, she giggled at almost everything I said.


    Lacey gave me a subtle nudge as we approached her grandmother¡¯s house, just off the old highway on Park Street. The front porch was lined with animal-themed decorations and bird feeders, a testament to the family¡¯s love for animals. The house, with its red brick walls and small concrete porch, gave off an old-fashioned charm. A porch swing sat invitingly beside a lone maple tree in the front yard.


    As we approached, Lacey¡¯s grandparents emerged from the house to greet us. ¡°Hey, Dad,¡± Mrs. Shepler said, giving him a quick hug, while Lacey rushed over to her grandmother.


    ¡°You must be Dean,¡± Grandma Valerie said, her arms wide open in welcome. ¡°Come here and give Grandma and Pap Pap a hug! You look like a fine young man.¡±


    After the brief family introduction in the yard, Grandma Valerie announced, ¡°Supper¡¯s on the stove¡ªready to serve.¡±


    We gathered around the dining table, settling into the stiff wooden chairs. The smell of the food was so strong that anyone within three houses could¡¯ve told you exactly what we were having. Steam billowed from the pots, and everyone passed them around the table, filling their plates.


    ¡°It¡¯s rare for kids these days to enjoy a meal like this,¡± Grandma Valerie remarked.


    ¡°Growing up with my mom, there wasn¡¯t anything we were allowed to dislike,¡± I said, hoping to contribute to the conversation.


    ¡°That¡¯s some rare parenting these days, but I like it,¡± Pap Pap added, glancing over at me.


    ¡°We got lucky. Lacey will eat anything we put in front of her, ever since she was little,¡± Mrs. Shepler said.


    ¡°She¡¯s definitely not picky,¡± Mr. Shepler chimed in, his first words of the evening. I was questioning whether he was still talking about the food.


    Once we¡¯d finished eating and small talk faded, Grandma Valerie suggested a game of Rummy. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll deal,¡± she announced.


    ¡°Actually, Grandma,¡± Lacey interrupted, ¡°I think Dean and I should head to the guest room to work on our project before it gets too late.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, dear. But don¡¯t make a mess, okay? If you move the pillows, put them back where they belong,¡± Grandma Valerie said softly, as if offering a gentle reminder.


    As we walked down the hallway toward the guest bedroom, I noticed the walls adorned with pictures of people I didn¡¯t recognize, though one face caught my eye¡ªLacey¡¯s.


    ¡°Wow, you were so little here,¡± I said, stopping to take in one of her childhood photos. ¡°And you must¡¯ve really loved orange push-pops.¡±


    ¡°I was six when that picture was taken,¡± she said with a laugh. ¡°Orange push-pops were the best.¡±


    Once inside the guest room, Lacey quickly made herself comfortable, tossing the throw pillows aside. I followed her onto the bed and settled down beside her. She opened an empty notebook and wrote the words "Career Exploration Project" in elegant cursive at the top of the page.


    ¡°Do you have your notebook?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No, I thought I was using yours,¡± I replied, confused.


    ¡°What do you mean? We can¡¯t both write in my notebook,¡± she said with a smile.


    I hesitated, then confessed, ¡°I thought you wanted me to write your essay for you.¡±


    Her eyes softened, and she smiled. ¡°I appreciate you wanting to help, Dean, but I can do my own essay. You must have misunderstood.¡±


    I felt a weight lift off my chest. ¡°I thought that might be the only reason you wanted me around.¡±


    ¡°No, Dean,¡± she said gently. ¡°I want you around because you¡¯re a cool guy, and you¡¯re funny. And don¡¯t ask me to repeat this, but... you¡¯re kind of cute.¡±


    I was taken aback by her honesty, but her words left me feeling both shocked and elated. She handed me a few sheets of paper, grabbed a book from beneath the bed for me to write on, and we began working on our projects together. She quickly filled her page with ideas, but I remained unsure about which career path I wanted to pursue.


    ¡°So, a veterinarian?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve always been around animals. It just feels right,¡± she explained.


    I paused for a moment before asking, ¡°Is that something you want to do, or do you feel like you have to?¡±


    ¡°No, I want to do it. I really love animals. It¡¯s my decision,¡± she assured me.


    "How is it that I never knew you?" I ask, another question slipping out before I can stop it. "You''re local, but I never saw you at the high school."


    "It wasn''t my choice," she replies, her voice steady. "I went to Clemendale School until seventh grade, but when the consolidations started, the backlash from the small-town folks was overwhelming. My mom was worried about how outsiders like me would be received at Jeade." She pauses, gathering her thoughts. "So, I stayed on the farm and was homeschooled. Helping Dad feed the animals and run the brush hog earned me a phys ed credit. He was always too stubborn to ask for help, so it ended up working out perfectly for all of us."


    It¡¯s hard to imagine someone like Lacey¡ªa girl with striking green eyes¡ªworking the land, but I don¡¯t doubt her. She has the look of someone who can handle it. I understand her mother¡¯s concern; I remember the tension surrounding the consolidation¡ªalmost no one was in favor. But Lacey didn¡¯t miss a step¡ªshe was still as social and sharp as ever.


    "There were plenty of girls I grew up with who stayed around," she continues. "I certainly didn¡¯t miss out on the drama." She says it with a look, almost as if she''s anticipating judgment for being homeschooled.


    "So, this college thing¡ªit''s a bit of a change of pace for you?" I ask.


    "Kind of," she smiles. "But I¡¯m the one who already has this assignment all planned out," she teases.


    I give her a look that acknowledges her playful jab.


    "Have you ever considered joining the military, like your father?" she asks.


    I hesitated, dreading the conversation. ¡°Lacey, there¡¯s something I need to tell you about him.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked, sensing my unease.


    I took a deep breath before answering. ¡°My father was in the military, but only for three years. He¡¯s been out for a long time.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said he¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what I said. Talking about my dad is hard for me,¡± I paused, the words heavy. ¡°He died, Lacey.¡±


    Her eyes widened, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. ¡°What?!¡± she gasped, her voice softening. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I nodded, struggling to keep my composure. ¡°After he was discharged, he became a police officer, working in forensics for years. But when I was eight, he was murdered. They found him in a house on Vensilla Street, where he was investigating a crime. That¡¯s all my mom ever really told me about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± she whispered. She slid closer to me, her hand gently resting on mine. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    For a moment, we lay there in silence, each of us processing the weight of my words. Finally, Lacey broke the stillness.


    ¡°Solve it,¡± she said, her voice full of quiet determination.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, confused.


    ¡°Solve the case,¡± she urged, her eyes filled with conviction.


    I thought about it for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I said aloud.


    ¡°What''s it?¡±


    ¡°Career exploration,¡± I said, the realization dawning. ¡°I can become a detective. Solve my father¡¯s case. And I¡¯m sure Professor Viola would appreciate the personal connection to the career choice.¡±


    We lay there, side by side, writing our essays and working on the script for our presentation the next day. There were moments when I¡¯d pause, pencil in hand, just watching her write with such focus and determination. Every stroke, every line, made me realize how in awe I was to be here with her. She¡¯d catch me watching her. I¡¯d smile and she¡¯d smile. I¡¯d giggle and she¡¯d giggle too.


    In this moment, I knew, with complete certainty, that I¡¯d found something special. My life¡¯s purpose had been right in front of me all along. How was I so oblivious to recognize it? It¡¯s in my blood. It¡¯s my duty. I¡¯ve got to make my father proud.