Chapter 12 - THE HOUSE WHERE NOBODY WAS AFRAID
Summer came slowly to Hollow Creek.
The snow melted.
The river rose.
Wildflowers appeared along the forest trails.
Jackson's legal matters continued.
He spent long hours with attorneys.
Cooperated with investigators.
Accepted restrictions on his business activities.
He no longer lived in Manhattan.
He rented a modest house outside Hollow Creek.
Not because he was hiding.
Because he'd discovered he liked the quiet.
Wyatt visited sometimes.
Always with Harold's permission.
Titan came too.
They fished.
Built birdhouses.
Played chess.
Jackson was terrible at fishing.
Wyatt thought this was hilarious.
One afternoon, the boy caught a trout.
Jackson caught nothing.
Wyatt grinned.
“Mr. Jackson, you're bad at this.”
Jackson laughed.
“Apparently.”
Harold watched from the porch.
For the first time, he smiled without suspicion.
Later, Jackson helped repair the cabin's old porch steps.
He wasn't particularly skilled.
He made mistakes.
Had to redo several boards.
Wyatt laughed.
“Grandpa would've finished already.”
Jackson grinned.
“Your grandpa is better at this.”
Harold appeared behind them.
“That's the first smart thing you've said all afternoon.”
They laughed.
That evening, the three of them ate dinner together.
Titan slept beneath the table.
Jackson looked around.
The kitchen was small.
The furniture mismatched.
The food simple.
And he felt richer than he'd ever felt in his penthouse.
After dinner, Harold poured coffee.
He looked at Jackson.
“You know, when I first met you, I didn't trust you.”
Jackson smiled faintly.
“I noticed.”
Harold nodded.
“I still don't trust easily.”
“Neither do I.”
The old man studied him.
“But you've kept your word.”
Jackson looked down.
“I'm trying.”
Harold nodded.
“That's a start.”
May you like
For Jackson, it was more than a start.
It was a life he hadn't known he wanted.
