Jack nods. “Oh, I know. But Tom’s human, too.” He picks up the McDonald’s bag with the sandwich wrapper and loudly crushes it. “You probably never knew this, but when I was in my early forties, Frances and I nearly got divorced. It was a bad time. This was after I’d quit Hughes Aircraft and joined Argus Minicom. I’d made too much money for my age; I was drinking way too much and . . . overdoing some other things as well. When things hit the crisis point, Tom flew out to California and spent three days with me. He wasn’t overbearing about it, but he’d come to talk me back down to earth. I was out of control. Worst of all, I felt like there was no way to go back to Frances, after the things I’d done.
“The last night he was there, Tom got to drinking with me. And then he did what we all do when we’re trying to make somebody on the low end of the downslope feel like there’s still hope. We tell them they’re not the only ones carrying heavy baggage.”
My pulse quickens. “What did he tell you?”
“That he’d done some things in the past that he didn’t think he could be forgiven for. He’d felt for years that he was damned because of them. Literally beyond redemption, beyond any happiness. But eventually, he got past them. I think you and your sister had a lot to do with that. And your mother.”
“What was he talking about, Jack?”
My uncle shrugs. “Tom stopped short of telling me. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.” Jack looks up at me, his eyes as sober as I’ve ever seen them. “But my feeling was, it had to do with the war.”
“What made you think that?”
“I was only a toddler when Tom came back from Korea. But years later I talked to Phil, who was nineteen when Tom got back. Phil said Tom wouldn’t tell him a damned thing about what happened over there. But when Phil enlisted in the Marines, Tom nearly killed him. Later on, Mom and I found a couple of medals Tom had won over there. Not small stuff, either. But whatever he’d done to get them, he kept to himself.”
“I know he was wounded, but only because of the shrapnel scars on his back and belly. When I asked how he got those, he just said he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t think he ever even told Mom the real story.”
Jack shrugs. “There you go. If I had to lay money, I’d bet he did some things over there that no man should have to do. That was a brutal war, and he was in the thick of it. The retreat from Chosin, for God’s sake. And he was a medic. There’s no telling what he saw. So, if Tom has decided he doesn’t want to talk about whatever it was, I say let him be. He’s alive; that’s all that matters.”
“I know. My mind’s been running wild with speculation, but Korea’s the black hole in his life, as far as the family is concerned. That must be it.”
Jack gives me a bittersweet smile. “Let it go, Penn.”
“Let the dead bury the dead?”
He raises one eyebrow. “Actually, no. Jesus supposedly said that to a disciple who asked to be excused from his spiritual work to go and bury his father. In reality, the disciple wanted to leave Jesus and go live with his aging father until he died. Jesus wanted the man to focus on his spiritual calling. As an atheist, my advice is the exact opposite: go home and live with your aging father until he dies. And take him as he is. Let the past die, and let the future take care of itself.” Jack pats me on the thigh. “But I’m just an old hippie. What do I know?”
More than most, I answer silently. As the Examiner building comes into view, I’m overwhelmed by an impulse to see my daughter and fiancée. “Do you mind if we stop and see Annie and Caitlin before going back to the hospital?”
“Of course not,” Jack says. “I’d love to see them.”
Taking out my BlackBerry, I text Caitlin that Jack and I are about to pull into the front parking lot. Only moments after I finish sending my message, the ringer goes off.
My heart thumps when I see my mother’s number on the screen. “It’s Mom,” I tell Jack.
“It’s okay,” he says in a steady voice. “It’s going to be good news.”
“How do you know?”
He smiles. “Because we’re due some, by God.”
“Hello?”
“We got another troponin level back,” my mother says, her voice tremulous with excitement. “The damage is serious, but Dr. Bruen says he’s cautiously optimistic.”
“Did he say what that means in concrete terms?”
I ask this without quite thinking about what I’m making my mother face to answer me. After a long silence, she says, “A year, probably. Two or three if Tom will straighten up. He’s going to be in congestive failure soon, if he doesn’t.”
“Then we’ll make him straighten up,” I say quickly, with some of Jack’s certainty.
“That’s right,” Mom says. “Now you and Jack come back. Tom’s been asking for you.”
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
I relay the information to Jack as we pull into the Examiner lot.
“I told you,” he says, looking more relieved than satisfied.
Before we can get out of the car, Annie pushes open the front door of the building and looks around in confusion. Then her eyes settle on the black BMW and her face lights up.
“My God,” Jack whispers, seeing her willowy form run toward us. “She looks exactly like Sarah.”
“Yep,” I say, a hitch in my voice. “It’s a mixed blessing, brother.”
He squeezes my arm in empathy, but then Annie yanks open my door and says, “Where’s Papa, Daddy? What are you doing in Papa’s car?”
Before I can answer, her eyes light on Jack. “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
Jack smiles. “I’m Papa’s little brother,” he says, reaching out to shake her hand.
“You don’t look very little,” Annie says, her eyes still wide with curiosity. “What’s going on?” Her mouth tightens with anxiety. “Has something happened?”
By this time Caitlin has walked up behind Annie. She leans down and smiles at Jack. “So what’s going on?” she asks in a casual voice that belies the concern in her green eyes.
“We’ve got good news,” I tell her. “Get in.”
Her eyelids close with relief at this promise of deliverance. We’ve both seen enough death recently to last us quite some time. After a moment, Caitlin wipes her eyes with her sleeve and then opens the back door for Annie, whose sudden laughter fills the backseat like warm light. “Let’s go see Papa!” she cries. “I made a one hundred on my history test, and I want to show him.”
Jack turns and smiles, then gives her a thumbs-up. “Sounds like a plan, kid.” He winks at me. “Let’s go, Dad. Show us what this baby can do.”