Feels like Home (Lake Fisher 2)

As the sun set, I’d sat on my porch with Miles struggling to stay awake on my lap while I watched Sam and Kerry-Anne chase each other around the yard catching lightning bugs. Jake and Katie ran around with their two small children, and they all hung out long after the little kids were yawning and scrubbing at their eyes.

Bess and Eli said their good-nights and headed for their cabin.

Old Man Jacobson sinks down onto the top step next to me, groaning as he sits down. “That step was farther down than I thought it was,” he says.

“My mom says that the distance between the ground and her is greater now that she’s older.” I grin at him.

“And it hurts more when you fall.” He scratches his elbow. He looks at me, finally. “You feeling all right?”

“I’m okay,” I say quietly.

“When my wife was doing chemo, she could barely get out of bed.” He slaps a mosquito that landed on his arm.

“They’re giving me a mild dose.” I shrug. “It’s not that bad.”

“Is that normal?” He stares at me. “A mild dose?”

“For now. It’s only for the next two weeks. Then I’m done.”

He lets out a slow breath. “When does palliative care start?”

Palliative care is when they give you pain meds and things to handle pain, instead of treating the cancer.

“I’ve got a few weeks left. Maybe a month or two.” I shrug. “Who knows.”

“Your two oldest kids are sleeping at my house tonight?” he asks.

I smile. “I heard Jake built a blanket fort.”

“Fort, my ass. It’s like a condo, with Christmas lights strung through it and shit. And air mattresses inside.”

“When we were boys, we had a sheet strung across the dining chairs and a sleeping bag. And we were happy with that.”

He shoves my shoulder. “I gave you boys pillows, too.”

I chuckle, and it feels good, so I close my eyes and drink in the sounds. I don’t want to miss a moment. I want to feel everything, all the way to the end.

“Okay, kids,” Katie calls out. She claps her hands together, and all the kids freeze. “If you’re a Jacobson, go home, take a shower, and get in your jammies. If you’re not a Jacobson, go get your jammies. You can shower at our house.” She claps her hands together again and they all run in different directions.

Gabby and Jake go with the first wave of kids, and my two girls streak up the steps, their bare feet filthy as they pound up the steps between me and Mr. Jacobson. The boards shake a bit as they run across the porch. They leave their jars with the lightning bugs outside next to the door. In minutes, they’re back outside and they’re both carrying their pajamas, the blankets from their beds, and Kerry-Anne has her stuffed bunny which she never sleeps without.

“’Night, Daddy,” Kerry-Anne says. She kisses my cheek, and then she runs off after Katie.

“Wait for me!” Sam calls. She starts off after them, but at the last moment she turns back, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”

“Have fun,” I say. I watch as they all walk away, with Jake bringing up the rear.

Silence settles around us like a warm blanket.

“Have you told her yet?” Old Man Jacobson asks, his voice quiet and reverent.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

He grunts. “You might want to get on that.”

I nod. “I will. As soon as the time is right.”

“Better you tell her than let her find out on her own. Or worse, after the fact.”