Chapter 2

APRIL

Driving with Jackson is more enjoyable than I expected. I thought it would be awkward, and quiet, and I was more than ready to converse enough for the both of us; from what Robert had told me, he wasn't exactly looking forward to moving to Moline. I can see the sadness in his eyes, the disappointment in his voice as he talks to me. He doesn't want to be here.

We drive down the gravel road to Nora's property, and Jackson's eyes widen as he takes in the house. It's a beautiful cottage, entirely too big for just him and Nora, but it was in her family and I know Robert has always kept space in that house especially for his son. I park Bert, the truck, in the driveway and jump out, Jackson following me as we grab his luggage and head up the front porch steps. I set his suitcase down and pull the set of house keys from my pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside, holding it open so Jackson can come in.

He pauses for a moment before walking in, looking at me curiously, "You're just full of surprises." he says, looking at the keys in my hand.

"You don't know the half of it." I smirk.

We leave the luggage by the door, and I lead Jackson into the kitchen, "Anyone home? I come bearing gifts!" I call out.

"Office." Nora's voice calls back.

I turn quickly and nearly collide into Jackson's hard body. He holds me at arm's length, looking flustered and overwhelmed.

"You alright?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just, uh, taking it all in." Jackson mutters, releasing me.

I smile and gently squeeze his shoulder "You're okay. Come on, let's go find your dad."

Jackson stays silent as we head upstairs, and if it wasn't for the shuffle of his feet against the dark hardwood floors, I would think he had run off. His nerves are wafting from him in waves, and I can't quite understand what could have him feeling so worried. Robert seemed so happy when he had asked me to pick up Jackson from the airport. For the last day, every conversation I've heard him have he's managed to weave in the words 'my son is coming to visit'.

"April," Nora smiles when she notices me, seated beside Robert in the office as he stitches up John Miller's arm "Thank you, so much. How was the drive?"

Jackson watches Robert, a mixture of confusion and fascination across his face. John's a sweet man, though quite clumsy in his old age; I see him getting fixed up in Robert's office more often than I do in his convenience store.

"Easy." I say, looking to Robert "Hi Doc."

Robert smiles bright, "April. Jackson! Oh, it's so good to see you." He stands and comes towards us while Nora wraps Jack's sutures, hugging me tightly and kissing the top of my head like always, before moving to hug his son.

Jackson steps back before that can happen though. Robert's hand drops to his side, his smile faltering. Silent, unspoken words sit in the space distancing them. Jackson looks to me, then Nora, anywhere but his father.

I have no idea what to say but thankfully, Nora seems to, "Hi, Jackson. It's nice to see you again. How was your flight?"

"Fine." Jackson says, crossing his arms over his chest like he's trying to protect himself.

"Good. Those little planes into Swanton don't usually feel very comfortable. Or safe." Nora says and I laugh. The handful of times I've ever been on a plane, it was out of Swanton, and it felt like I was sitting inside a rattling tin can holding on for dear life.

Jackson offers nothing, just nods back. Robert clears his throat, "Well lunch will be ready soon. Nora makes the best Mac n Cheese in Moline."

"Actually, I'm pretty tired. I think I'll just hang out in my room."

Robert looks disappointed, and Nora interjects once again, "Of course. You should rest. If you're hungry later, let me know."

"Thanks."

Nora focuses back on John, who's sitting and watching the entire exchange rather awkwardly, and Robert and Jackson just stare at each other.

"Doc, I can show Jackson to his room." I offer, and they both nod gratefully.

Jackson walks back down the stairs, and I follow him, patting Robert's shoulder as I pass him. He mouths 'thanks' and shuts the door behind me. I meet Jackson in the foyer, taking one of his bags and walking him to his room. I know this house like the back of my hand – I grew up in it as much as I did my own home – and Jackson's room is one of my favourites. It's at the back of the first floor and has the most beautiful view of the property and my family's farm.

I open the bedroom door and smile wide, motioning my arm like I'm presenting the space to him. Robert, Nora and I did a lot of work in the last 40 hours. Robert bought a navy-blue wallpaper to put over the white painted walls and Nora and I drove to Northwood and bought a new bed, bookshelf, and desk in dark wooden tones. The room looks quite sophisticated for a cottage house in Moline, but fitting for a young man, I guess. I wouldn't really know what suits a young man, or any man.

Jackson looks around, pausing at the bookshelf and taking the photo frame off one of the shelves. It's a photo of Jackson sitting on Robert's lap, helping to blow out the candles on his dad's birthday cake. There's a party hat sitting lopsided on little Jackson's head, and Robert is smiling down at his son.

"Your Dad's had that photo sitting on his desk for as long as I've known him." I tell him. Jackson hums but says nothing, putting the photo face-down on the bookshelf and sitting on the bed.

"Your dad's pretty happy that you're here. I think he talked to just about everyone in town telling them his son was coming to stay for a few months. I haven't seen him like that before; so excited." I chuckle.

Jackson stays silent staring out the window. I walk closer to him, sitting cautiously beside. I take a breath, trying to muster up the courage to ask him. It's not that big a deal, why am I making it. a thing?

"Are you doing okay?" I finally say. He finally looks at me, and the surprise on his face makes me feel the need to backtrack, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Sorry. I don't mean to pry or anything."

I jump up from the bed, ready to leave when Jackson says, "You're the first person to ask me that in a while."

"Oh."

"I don't really know what I'm feeling, honestly." Jackson whispers.

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder in comfort, "That's okay. It's probably a lot to take in right now."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "I, uh, I'm actually kind of tired so …"

"Oh! Right, yeah, of course," I get up but linger in the doorway. I don't know if I should stay or go – Jackson doesn't seem to want anyone around him, but there's a sadness in him that I can feel; one that's telling me to not leave him alone.

"I-I'll see you later, maybe. Well, probably; I'm kind of around here a lot. We're bound to run into each other."

"I look forward to it." Jackson smiles.

His eyes meet mine and I can't seem to pull away. I don't know that I want to. Jackson breaks first, looking back to the window and I walk out of his room quickly, hoping the heat I can feel in my cheeks went unnoticed by him. I call out a quick "bye!" to Robert and Nora on my way out the door.

Sitting in the safety of my dad's truck, I finally let my breath out. My stomach feels tight, my face is hot, and my heartbeat is thumping in my ears. I've barely known him an hour and it feels like he's already throwing me off my game. He seems kind, but he's got his guard up; I can see it in his eyes. And the more I think about it, the more I find myself wondering why he's built such a firm wall around himself. And why does it feel like he's letting me glimpse past it?

JACKSON

"Jackson, come on, we gotta go." Robert shakes my shoulder, rousing me.

It's dark when I sit up and open my eyes. Did I sleep through the entire day? I pick up my phone from the nightstand and frown, "Why the hell are you waking me so early?"

"I have work in Toledo this morning, we need to leave in half an hour. So, get up please."

I groan and flop back down on the mattress, closing my eyes again, "Pass."

"Excuse me?" Robert sounds confused, and I can picture the frown on his face. The same expression he wore when I told him I didn't want him to visit mom and I anymore.

"Too early. I'm going back to bed."

"Jackson, you're supposed to-"

"I don't care. Goodnight." I pull the covers over my head, willing him to leave me alone.

The last thing I hear before I fall asleep again are his heavy footsteps and defeated sigh.

…

My first three days in Moline start the same way. Robert wakes me up at the crack of dawn, I ignore him and go back to bed. But today is different. I wake when the sun is high in the sky obscured by clouds, but it's still later than when Robert would usually try to wake me. I get out of bed and jump when my feet hit the hardwood floor. The cold is different here; less windy, instead a bitter ice that seems to penetrate through to my bones.

I pull a bunch of clothes out of my suitcase, dumping them on the floor and grabbing the thickest pair of socks Gertie packed. I put my hoodie over my pyjamas and head to the kitchen, stopping short when I hear Nora and Robert.

"It's a big adjustment for him, just give him some time." Nora says.

Robert's voice is muffled by something, "I just don't know how I'm gonna get through to him. I don't want to let Cath down."

"If there's one thing I've come to learn, it's that Avery men are strong-willed. And from the few times I've talked to Catherine, I'd say Jackson got a double dose of that." Nora's tone is light-hearted, and it makes Robert laugh softly.

I haven't heard him laugh like that in years. I haven't heard him refer to my mom as 'Cath' for even longer. It stirs something inside of me. Sentimental memories from a happier time – ones I locked away a long time ago and refuse to let out now.

Robert and Nora are in their own world when I walk in. Nora's arms are wrapped around Robert's waist and his arms are around her shoulders. His chin rests atop her head while hers rests on its side against his chest. They look content in each other's arms, and that bitterness rises in my chest once again. This is the life he left mine for.

Nora notices me first and quickly steps out of Robert's hold, smiling at me, "Good morning Jackson."

"I guess." I say, not meeting their eyes as I walk pass, grabbing the milk and cereal.

"So, Jackson, I was thinking we could do some work at the Kepner's farm today. Mrs Kepner asked if we wouldn't mind lending April a hand with some fencing that needs repairs."

I've seen April on-and-off since I first got here. She wasn't kidding when she said she comes around the house a lot. We haven't spoken much, but she gave me her number and we've traded a few texts – it would be nice to see her. She's been surprisingly nice to me, a near stranger, and I feel the need to return that kindness.

"Okay." they both seem surprised by my answer, and I shrug in response, "She picked me up from the airport, I owe her."

Robert nods in reply and I focus on my breakfast, trying to ignore the smile that he seems to be sharing across the room with Nora.

Jackson

Robert and I sit in silence as he drives. He kept trying to make conversation the first few days, but he seems to have accepted that I don't want to talk. I don't want to sit and catch up with him, like he's been on a business trip for a few weeks and is finally home. He can't just pretend like the last two years haven't happened; I'm not letting him. It's still surreal that I'm here living with him. I truly didn't think I would see him again. It's weird to see him and Nora in their home – he's gentle with her, soft and caring in a way that I hadn't seen him with mom, and Nora looks after him. They seem to have a healthy relationship, and in another reality, I would probably be happy for him.

When we reach the Kepner house, there's two young girls sitting on the porch swing. They smile when we pull up and the younger girl runs down the stairs to greet Robert, the elder trailing after her. They hug Robert tightly as he smiles down at them.

"Hi girls, you been good for your mama?" He asks and they nod "Kimmy, Alice, I want you to meet my son, Jackson. He's going to be staying with us for a couple months. Jackson, this is Kimmie and Alice Kepner. April's younger sisters."

I'm still standing by the car, taking them in. Seeing him with other kids stirs my emotions in a way I hadn't anticipated. I'd always pictured Robert and Nora in their own little world, alone. I didn't want to think about the possibility that he'd had other children, or people to consider his family. But it seems he does.

"Jackson, come on." Robert waves me over and I slowly step forward, forcing a smile onto my face.

"It's nice to meet you."

Kimmie holds out her hand to shake and Alice waves, her face tucked into Robert's side. They both look so much younger than April, but I can see the resemblance in their soft features. If I recall my conversation with April right, they can't be more than ten and fifteen. While April has a more mature look, defined edges and sharp features that come with age, the Kepner siblings all share the same piercing green eyes and sparse spattering of freckles along their nose and cheekbones. And, of course, the red hair.

"April's doing the fences." Kimmie says, leading us inside the house.

Robert frowns, "She was supposed to wait for us."

"You know how she is," Kimmie shrugs, taking Alice's hand "Mom's in the kitchen."

The girls walk into the living room, and I trail behind Robert as he walks into the kitchen. Another redheaded woman stands at the sink, wiping a mug. She's looking out the window, as if taking in the view, but she seems preoccupied by something else; not really focused on anything she's doing.

"Karen." Robert calls softly and she startles, grappling at the mug before it slips out of her hands.

"Oh, Robert. Good morning." She says, setting the mug down and coming around the kitchen bench to hug him. She turns to face me and smiles, "You must be Jackson. I've heard so much about you."

I'm tempted to give a snarky reply, to tell her I can't say the same because Robert and I aren't a part of each other's lives like everyone seems to think we are. But I force the smile to stay on my face and hold out my hand instead, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs Kepner."

"Please, call me Karen."

Robert and Karen talk for a couple of minutes before we head outside. The size of the property blows me away; I could see the Kepner's house from my bedroom window, but I didn't realise just how much area surrounded the little cottage house. There are animals everywhere, and in the distance, I can see what looks like acres of tall grass – the corn crops.

I hear April before I see her, lugging a wooden beam across the grass. Robert and I move quickly to her, helping her carry it. She looks back, surprised, but smiles when she notices us.

"You were supposed to wait until we got here." Robert huffs.

"It's alright, I got it."

He gives her a stern look, his voice low, "Well, we're here now so let us take this."

April sighs and steps back, and I follow Robert's lead as he follows her to the hole she's already dug in the ground.

"Jackson, push from your end and I'll guide." he says.

April watches us, and I can tell she's tempted to jump in and do it herself, but I think she knows Robert will stop her before she has the chance. As soon as we drop the pole in, she's grabbing wooden planks to stick in the gaps, so it stays secure.

"April, you're supposed to be taking it easy. That wrist is barely healed."

"It feels fine, like I never even injured it." She's quick to dismiss him, and I can see Robert struggling to keep his cool. It seems like they have this conversation a lot.

"Did you at least put the wrap on?"

April avoids his gaze, pulling off her work gloves to reveal her bare hand, "It's annoying, I can't get any work done with it on."

"No, you just can't work as quickly as you would normally." Robert sighs, pulling out a roll of bandage from his jacket pocket and gently taking her hand. Yeah, definitely a reoccurring thing with them.

While Robert bandages April's hand and wrist, I take in the work going on; there's at least ten of these poles in the ground already, with wire fencing running through them all.

"Did you do all of this?" I ask.

"Don't sound so surprised." she retorts.

She's grinning at me despite her sullen tone, and I chuckle to myself. She's so sharp and witty in one moment, nervous and soft in another; it's oddly endearing.

"Alright, that should do it." Robert says, clipping the bandage down, "Let's get to work."

APRIL

One thing I learned quickly is that Jackson doesn't like to talk around Robert. When it's just the two of us, he's different; open and inviting. But as soon as his dad is with us, he clams up.

But Robert keeps making conversation as we work, so I try to fill in the silence as much as possible. He directs some questions solely at Jackson, and I can hear how tense he is with every answer. I don't know if Robert is purposely ignoring it, or if he's so desperate to reconnect with his son that he simply doesn't notice how uncomfortable he is.

Jackson uses the twist-tool to finish securing the wiring around the fence. He looks proud of himself, and I smile as he surveys his work. For someone who's not used to manual labour, he's holding his own better than I thought he would.

Robert comes up behind him and pats him on the back, resting a hand on Jackson's shoulder as he tells him, "Looks great. You're a natural, son."

It seems to be the one thing that sets him over the edge. Jackson's jaw tightens and his fists clench and he looks like he's about to release every locked in feeling he's had for the last few years. And before I know it I've stepped in, taken Robert's hand and started to lead him back towards the house.

"Uh, Doc, would you check on mom please?" Robert looks confused and I lower my voice, "You know how she gets when I bring up food. You usually have better luck than I do."

It seems to do the trick. Robert nods and squeezes my shoulder, glancing back at Jackson before heading up the steps and into the house.

I walk back to Jackson, trying to push the shovel into the dirt and dig the next post-hole but not getting very far; just angrily stabbing at the grass. I reach out slowly, taking the shovel from him and using my foot to push it into the dirt, then let it go so he can finish.

"Thanks." He mumbles.

"All good." I say, keeping an eye on what he's doing, "those shovels get a bit tricky sometimes."

Jackson pauses, looking up at me, "That … it's not what I was thanking you for."

I smile, squeezing his shoulder as I tell him, "I know."

He places his hand atop mine, holding me in place as he smiles; it's a small, silent gesture but it holds such weight. I've also come to learn lately, that Jackson isn't big on talking about his feelings. I've gotten to know more about his life in Boston over the last few days. He's told me about his friends, his job, his dog; he talks about his mom the most. He doesn't call her by name like he does with Robert, but there's that same tension felt when he mentions her. Whatever's weighing on him has clearly affected his relationships, and the more he avoids talking about it, the more it piques my curiosity; he's like a puzzle that's missing a piece. I feel like I have a sense of who he is, but the picture's incomplete.

Jackson coughs loudly, releasing my hand and focusing back on the task. It's another thing I've learned about him – that's his go to move when he starts to feel like his emotions are coming to the surface.

"So, uh, have you got plans this weekend?" Jackson glances up, a look of 'are you seriously asking that' across his face, and I smile, "Good. Do you maybe want to hang out? There's something I want to do with you."

"More manual labour?" He chuckles.

I shove his shoulder, his smile grows, and it makes me feel warm. I like seeing him smile.

"No manual labour, I promise. I thought we could do something fun."

"I didn't realise there was anything fun to do around here," He quips, "Yeah, sure, let's do it. What's the plan?"

I smile back at him, "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Jackson

"Kayaks?" I ask.

April's laughter floats through the phone, "It's winter. Every body of water in a hundred-mile radius is frozen over."

"Okay, hiking?"

"Bugs and I are not friends."

I groan, falling back on my bed and setting my phone beside me. I've been trying to figure out what April's planning since she first asked me to hang out with her. Two days later, and she's still tight-lipped.

"Are you seriously not going to tell me what we're doing?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now, would it?" she says, "It's barely two more days, surely you can be patient."

"I really can't."

My whingeing makes her laugh harder, and it cracks a smile on my face. April's laugh is quickly becoming my favourite sound. Her breathing is erratic as she tries to settle herself. Then, "How was today?"

"Eh. Same old, same old." I tell her.

Robert keeps trying to spend time together and waking me up at 5:30 in the morning to come with him to Toledo, and I keep telling him to stop waking me up so damn early.

"Do you really think you can avoid spending time with him the entire four months?" April asks, "I thought the whole reason your mom sent you here was to bury the hatchet or something."

"I can't just pretend like the last few years of our lives didn't happen. Just forgive and forget? It's not that easy."

"No one said it would be easy."

I close my eyes and take a breath. It's hard to move past my anger. It's dictated my life and my actions for so long that I don't know who I am without it anymore. It makes it that much harder to do what mom asked of me, to give Moline and the Foundation's work a real chance, when the man that's meant to be showing me the way is the same man that broke our family.

"Every time I see him, I'm just reminded of all the anger I've felt. That I still feel."

I can hear April's sharp breath, and I know she's surprised. We've talked a lot in the last week that I've been here, but we don't usually get this far into a conversation; I'm quick to shut her down when she tries to bring up Robert.

"Then be angry with him." She says, like it's the simplest thing in the world, "tell him what you're feeling, otherwise you'll never be able to move forward. He should know how you feel, J."

That simple, little moniker she's given me has my heart thumping in my chest and part of me worries she can hear it through the phone. It's weird how quickly I find myself connected to April. A good weird, I think; like she's an old familiar friend I'm reacquainting myself with, as opposed to a stranger I met nine days ago. There are a thousand thoughts and feelings rushing through me when it comes to her, the most prominent of them is that April makes me feel more comfortable than I've been in a long time – like I can be vulnerable, be myself, with her. I'm trying to trust in that feeling.

"I don't know if I can." I admit. Truthfully, there have been plenty of opportunities to tell Robert exactly what's on my mind, but for some reason I don't.

And as usual, April says what she knows I won't, "He's your dad. Even after all of it, I think you still love him; I don't think you want to hurt him, even though you feel that he's hurt you."

She yawns then, and I seize the opportunity. I might feel comfortable with her, but I'm nowhere near ready to dive into whatever feelings I have surrounding my father. Especially at this hour.

"I should let you get some rest." April doesn't say anything in response, but I'm pretty sure she's nodding, "Go to sleep, I'll talk to you in the morning."

"M'kay." She murmurs, "Jackson? Your dad, he- he's fighting as hard as he can for you. Give him a chance to explain things."

We sit in the silence together, neither of us hanging up. I don't know what to say to her, but I don't think April expects a response. Robert's always been a sensitive subject. Anytime mom mentioned him, I reacted badly. He blinds me, in a way. There's a lot of hurt there, in such a short span of time in our lives.

There's a big part of me that's scared to let him in, to let him explain his side of the story. I've been stuck in my ways for so long – following the narrative for which the antagonist has always been Robert Avery – and I don't know what would happen, what it might look like, if I stopped now. If I let him in, how do I know he won't hurt me?

"What if I say he doesn't deserve a chance?" I finally ask.

"Maybe he doesn't. But you deserve to know the whole story."