“They didn’t win the game, but no one said I couldn’t give them nice consolation prizes.”
“I did notice that for some reason the book’s release party is being held at something called the Little Red Lighthouse Bookshop in Saint John, New Brunswick. New Brunswick? We’ve never even been to Old Brunswick.”
Jack put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I’ve always been a supporter of small independent bookstores.”
Supporter? More like savior. Hugo could already see it. Reporters and fans would descend on Melanie’s bookshop in droves the week the book came out. There’d be lines snaking around the block to meet Jack and get his autograph. The online orders alone for signed copies of his new book would keep a roof over Melanie’s head for a decade.
“I’m afraid to ask about your kidneys,” Hugo said. Andre’s one wish was a kidney for his dying father. When Andre was on the island, they’d yet to find a match.
“I didn’t give anyone either of my kidneys. Doubt anyone would want them after all I’ve put them through. But with the help of a detective in Atlanta, they were able to find a second cousin who was a match. Looks like the surgery is going to happen very soon.”
“Jack, you can’t save the world.”
“And I would never try,” Jack said. “All I did was keep my promise to those kids.”
Hugo still wondered…why now? Why had Jack suddenly shrugged off his grief and started writing again? Opening his home again? Start living again? He’d been wondering this for a while, and Jack’s mention of time opened a door that Hugo was afraid to step through. But he knew this might be his only chance for a while.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you started writing again? We’re not going bankrupt, are we?”
Jack smiled. “I’ll tell you but only in a riddle.”
“Never mind.”
“It comes after Q.”
He almost said R, but Jack had his brain so well trained—or possibly damaged—that Hugo knew it wasn’t R. It was U.
You.
“Me,” Hugo said. “You did all this for me?” He could barely hear his own voice speaking. The words were like knives in his throat.
“You were going to leave, yes? And here you are. And you haven’t packed a single bag yet.”
He swallowed. “Jack.”
“Can’t see my own hand in front of my face sometimes. Kicked myself for years for not having children. Didn’t realize until we started getting flyers in the mail from real estate agents in New York that I was about to lose my only son. And when I did, I would have no one to blame but myself. I knew you’d stick around long enough to see what happened with the contest. And depending on how the game went…well, maybe if I found a reason for you to stay, you would.”
Too moved to speak, Hugo could only look at Jack for a moment.
He remembered the night Lucy had shown up at the guesthouse, ready to go home. What had Jack told him to do to make her stay?
Distract her with something. Make her help you with a project. Works every time.
He was right. It worked.
Finally, Hugo said, “This whole bloody game was a ploy to try to trick me into staying?”
Jack laughed his old laugh. The laugh he laughed when his cleverness astonished even him. He elbowed Hugo in the side and pointed to the escalator where Lucy and Christopher were slowly descending.
Jack said, “We win.”
* * *
—
Here we go, Lucy thought as she and Christopher reached the escalator. Their new life together in Maine would start the second they reached the bottom. Christopher paused at the top of the escalator and looked up at her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I can carry you down, or you can try it. Just grab the railing and step onto the top step fast.”
He reached out, touched the railing, snatched his hand back as if it had been burned. But then, instead of jumping into her arms in fear, he tried it again.
This time he did it. He grabbed the railing and stepped onto the escalator. Lucy held him by the back of his T-shirt just in case.
“Whoa,” he said, then laughed at himself.
“Good job, kiddo,” she said. Christopher grinned in triumph. He’d been doing that a lot lately. The dark circles under his eyes were long gone. The hundred-yard stare he sometimes wore on rough days rarely showed itself. And he smiled and laughed and did somersaults around their house for no reason except he could. Because he was safe now. Because he was loved. Because that safety and love weren’t going anywhere ever again.
Lucy tugged gently on the back of his shirt. He looked up at her.
“Mama loves you,” she said.
He rolled his eyes and said, “I know.” But then he quickly leaned his head back against her, his way of saying he loved her too.
Lucy peered down the escalator and saw Hugo and Jack waiting for them. She smiled but didn’t wave or say anything to Christopher. She didn’t want him getting too excited and running down the moving stairs. Right now, he was chattering away about how crazy it was that he would be taking a boat to school every day when it started in a week. A boat! To school! Every day! He had never been on a boat in his life, and now he was taking A boat! To school! Every day!
Jack waved at her. Hugo was too busy messing around with a roll of what looked like white wrapping paper. She saw him slap Jack on the arm. What on earth were they doing? Then he and Hugo started walking apart from each other and unfurled a banner that was at least ten feet wide and three feet tall that read, WELCOME LUCY & CHRISTOPHER.
Obviously, Hugo had painted the banner. Their names were written inside the bellies of sharks. Hers was an elegant great white shark, and Christopher’s was a hammerhead. When Christopher saw the sign, his mouth dropped open. No stopping him now. He ran down the last few steps and toward the sign.
First, there were hugs for Hugo. And then Lucy got to do something she’d been dreaming about for weeks.
“Christopher,” she said as she took him by the shoulders and gently steered him forward. “This is Jack Masterson. Jack, this is Christopher.” She smiled and, with the greatest pride she had ever felt in her life, added, “My son.”
Christopher stared up at Jack, wide-eyed, silent with awe.
“Say hi,” Lucy prompted.
“Are you really the Mastermind?” Christopher asked.
“What has two hands,” Jack said, “but can’t scratch itself?”
Slowly a smile spread across Christopher’s face. “A clock!”
“Good job, my boy. You’ll do just fine on Clock Island. Let’s go, shall we? Mikey’s waiting with the car.”
When they reached the car, Christopher claimed the middle row with Jack while Lucy and Hugo sat in the back row all alone. As Jack got into the car, he gave them a wink.
For the drive to the dock, she and Hugo whispered to each other in the back while Christopher and Jack competed to see who could talk each other’s ears off first.
“I’ve never seen him so happy,” Hugo said. “Not in all the years…even before Autumn died.”
“Christopher’s on cloud nine, and we’re never going to get him down.”
“And you?” Hugo asked. “Happy?”