Daddy had taken care of getting rid of Jackson’s clothing for me in our old house, but he hadn’t touched his office, and it had been one of the last things on my mind. I remember standing in the doorway of Jackson’s office in the old house, Daddy’s arm around me, as we stared, glassy eyed, at the sea of papers on the floor and desk and pouring out of open file cabinet drawers. “Let’s just throw it all in boxes,” Daddy said. “You’ll just have to go through everything when you have time at the new house.”
I’d been all too eager to agree. I’ll do one box a night, I tell myself now. That should be manageable.
I get a trash bag for recycling, planning to get rid of absolutely everything I can. The evening is cool and remarkably dry for June and I open the windows, surprised when the scent of the Hockleys’ fire drifts into the room even though my house and theirs are at opposite ends of the street. I think of that burn on Buddy Hockley’s arm and hope he’s not in too much pain.
I clear the top of the desk so I have plenty of space to work. Opening one of the boxes, I pull out a handful of old bills and other paperwork. I make a “keep” pile on the desk and begin sorting through the papers. I’m halfway through the box, having trashed nearly all of it, when I’m stunned to find a typewritten letter from my father.
Dear Jackson,
I’ve watched as you and Kayla plan your new home. I’m proud of how the two of you have made names for yourselves as architects and how you can now afford to build the beautiful home you’ve dreamed of. It’s a real honor to be your father-in-law, Jackson.
I’ve kept quiet as you two searched for the perfect site for the new house and I was pleased when you said you were looking to build just two miles from me; I love having Rainie be a big part of my life. If I didn’t sound thrilled when you told me your exact choice of location at dinner tonight, I’m sorry. I know my reaction disappointed both of you and I think I need to explain. I didn’t want to go into it all with Kayla there and poison her feelings about the site, if it does turn out to be where you decide to build.
The Hockleys, who, as you know, own the only property on Hockley Street, will never sell their house as long as either Buddy or Eleanor, who lives in California, are alive. They are the stubborn types who will probably put something in their wills to turn that place into a halfway house for drug addicts or some such thing after they die. If you go through with building your home on Hockley Street, just know you’ll most likely have that old house in your neighborhood for as long as you live there.
One other thing, and of course I feel like a fool writing this, but … when I was young, everyone thought the woods where you plan to build were haunted. I don’t believe in spirits, of course, but I can’t help it; I’ve always had an uncomfortable feeling about that area. But who knows? If you and Kayla decide to build there, maybe it will be your beautiful new home that puts my discomfort to rest.
I felt like I needed to share my thoughts with you, but I trust your judgment and I know you always have Kayla and Rainie’s best interest at heart.
With love and admiration,
Reed, a.k.a. Dad
What the hell?
Jackson never mentioned the letter to me, but I do remember the dinner Daddy referred to. He came over on a weeknight, as he often did. He was lonely since Mom died and I loved the way he interacted with Rainie. Even then, when she was barely two, he was so attentive to her and she lit up when he was around. That evening, as we ate tuna noodle casserole made from my mother’s recipe, one Daddy loved, we told him that we were in negotiations with the developer who planned to put twenty-one houses on Hockley Street, turning it into an upscale neighborhood they’d call Shadow Ridge. Jackson and I were about to put our deposit down on the prime lot; the one with all the trees at the end of the street. I expected my father to congratulate us. He knew we’d been looking for the right piece of land for over a year. But he pushed his casserole around on his plate, not looking at either of us. I remember exchanging a glance across the table with Jackson.
“You know where we mean?” I finally asked my father.
Of course he knew. It wasn’t like Hockley Street was tucked away out in the boonies.
Daddy finally looked up. “Sure,” he said. “I’m just trying to picture it. All those houses on that little road. All that kudzu.”
Jackson had laughed. “Yeah, that’ll be a mess to get rid of all right, but not my problem. The developers are responsible for clearing the land. I just want to be sure they leave the most trees possible.”