Page 133 of One Last Shot
A loud sip. Then, “You’re under the illusion that your happy ending is up to you. You’ve been bought bylove, son. And that love wants to do amazing things through you. It already is, if I’m seeing things right. So, yes, actually. But, you know, you gotta let go. Push yourself out of the plane.”
Oaken shook his head. “People get hurt that way.”
“Only if they’re depending on themselves to fly.”
“You don’t happen to watchWild with Grizz,do you?”
“Live big, live wild?” He took a final sip. “Your mom told me about the show.”
“I called her before I went to Alaska.”
“How is your friend Mike?”
“In rehab, still in Anchorage. But he’s getting better.”
His father pushed up from the table. “He starts all his shows with jumping out of a chopper. That’s crazy right there.”
Oaken laughed.
And then, weirdly, his father’s words came back to him.“People who fear end up doing stupid things. They hurt people. Destroy lives.”
He got up and went to his room, found his cell phone. Then he texted Moose.
Oaken
Any news about Mike’s chute?
No answer. Maybe Moose was out on a call.
His father was waiting in the kitchen, making a couple sandwiches. “Daylight’s burning, son. I hope you’re still handy with a wrench.”
“I’ve never been handy with a wrench, Pop.”
“That’s not true, son. You have a mind like a trap. Always marveled at the way you could look at something once and remember it forever. And you’re the most adaptable, handy guy I’ve met. Never seen you tackle something you weren’t fantastic at. Roping, herding cattle, baseball, music... Seemed to me sometimeslike you were born sixteen and burnin’ to change the world.” He handed Oaken the ham sandwich. “Follow me out to the barn.”
Oaken ate the sandwich, his father’s words settling inside as he walked down to the shed on his father’s property. Inside, his father’s old 1962 Ford sat up on blocks.
“I need to bleed the brake line. Get in the cab.”
Felt like old times. Especially when his father turned on the radio. Or maybe it was an old boom box, because his sister’s voice emerged, young and timeless.
He sat there, his throat tightening when his father walked up, put a hand on his arm.
“I know you miss your sister. I do too. But you can’t look at your life as the consolation prize. God’s love is perfect, even in the dark times.” He squeezed Oaken’s arm. “I’m proud of you, son. Now, pump the brakes and don’t stop until I tell you to.”
“I’m not sure what sort of shake to offer you with that face.”
Moose looked up at Tillie and found a smile. “Yeah. I dunno.”
“Bad callout?” She leaned a hip against the booth.
He hadn’t forgotten about his pitiful attempt to ask her out a month ago, but he’d largely put it in the back of his mind, what with Boo’s injury, the blizzard, and the fallout from the frozen bride.
“No. Snow is gone, and except for a couple fishermen caught in rapids and one missing hunter, it’s been quiet.”
She slid into the booth. He frowned.
“I heard about that girl in the news, the one you tried to rescue.” She hesitated as if she might actually reach out, touch his hand or something. Then, “I’m sorry, Moose. I know... well, I remember you telling me about your cousin missing, and I would guess that hit alittle close to home.”