“He and my mom married young,” I tell him, putting the rest of my burrito back on the counter and getting him another bottle of water. “And while he was really active in the church, it wasn’t until I was born that he took it a step further. I don’t remember his mother, but she was still running her feed store and told him to take a break and figure out what his life was going to be like as a widower with an infant.”
“Your mom died…”
“When I was born,” I say, crossing to where I have a picture of them hanging on the wall. While I had meant to show him, I just stand there staring at it for the millionth time. “There was some money that she had inherited from her own parents, and he used that to take classes at a bible college. He raised me on his own, took over the store after his mother passed, and the church when the previous pastor retired.”
“I only met him once, but he seemed very,” he pauses, staring at the last bit of his food like it holds the word he’s looking for. “Grounded. Does that make sense? Calm and genuine.”
“Grounded is the perfect word for him.” I smile at him, surprised at how aptly he described Dad. “He’s always known exactly where he’s belonged.”
“And you?”
“Not so much. I mean, where, not what,” I get slightly flustered trying to answer him. “I’ve always known I wanted to be a vet, or work with animals in some way. But I felt like I was missing out on so much living back home, so I went to school on St. Kitt’s.”
“No kidding? I’ve never been to the Caribbean.”
“It’s beautiful, but I felt more isolated there than I did back home,” I confess something I’ve only told my father. “You live on campus and there are fewer students than there are people in Kent. So, I transferred to North Carolina State in Raleigh after freshman year.”
“And here? I mean no offense, but your name’s not on the name of the business,” he says, nodding in the direction of a certification on the wall.
“I kind of fell into an opportunity where I could lease the business for a couple of years. But that’s a complicated story for another day and we have another issue to deal with.” Changing the subject saves me from worrying about what I’ll do in three months since I’ve told the owner, I don’t want to buy him out.
“Ah, you mean you’re going to let me call my brother with your ransom demands?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to take this seriously, but considering the state his body’s in, if he needs to be sarcastic right now, I can keep my freak out to a minimum. That leaves me with nodding my head.
“Here’s the problem with that, and it goes back to what you said earlier,” he says, pulling the blanket tighter around him now that he’s done eating. “I think you should call your dad and see what he’s heard. My cell phone’s gone and once we start calling my people, your name is going to be bounced around.”
“Which would bring them to my dad’s door, especially if they’re already in Kent.” I nod, understanding his point.
Heavily exhaling, trying to dispel the nerves in my stomach, I dig my phone out of my purse and click the top number on my favorites.
It rings all four times before going to voicemail and I hold the phone away from my head, staring at it in shock. Dad has never missed one of my calls.
“What’s wrong?” Jessup asks me.
“He didn’t answer,” I answer, clicking Dad’s name on the screen again, unfortunately with the same result. “Healwayspicks up.”
I frantically hit redial and this time it’s picked up on the third ring. Except I’ve never before heard the voice that answers.
“Who is this?” I demand.
“Thunder. Who are you to Dindak?” replies the man.
“Where is my dad?”
My overwhelming fear stops me from immediately putting together that this man used what sounds like a biker name, but once it clicks, I look over at Jessup who has pulled himself to the edge of the bed.
“Look, he’s fine. He was in a minor accident and knocked his head pretty good, so we’re at the clinic here in town and they’re checking him out.”
“Your name is Thunder?” I ask, and Jessup immediately reaches his hand out for the phone, sucking in his breath when one of his many fractures stops him from stretching his arm out further. “I have someone who wants to talk to you.”
Instead of handing over my phone and getting cut out of the conversation, I hit the speaker button while keeping it out of Jessup’s reach.
“Lincoln,” Jessup says, drawing a string of cuss words from the man on the line. “Yeah, good to hear your voice, too. “Look, before we start, you’re sure Everly’s dad is going to be alright?”
“Yeah, we were heading to meet a contact of his at the church when he hit a patch of ice and skidded off the road and plowed into a tree. I called Bronco to come get us and since Dindak hadn’t come to by the time he arrived, we decided to get him checked out. He woke up on the way and it’s just a concussion. They’re working up the paperwork for his release as we speak.”
His explanation sets off a series of tremors in my body, and I sit down next to Jessup; relieved and grateful that his brother didn’t mess around about getting Dad to the clinic in light of the other situation.
