The soft crunch of wheels on gravel made its way to them as they fished, followed by the slam of a car door.
"Jack! Jackie!!"
"Aw, fer cryin' out loud. " Jack winced as he heard the old childhood nickname and pulled in his line.
"Jackie?" Laughing, Joanna took pity on him. "I was Joey. "
"Yeah, but you're a girl. Comin' Dad!" Jack set the pole down as Joanna reeled in and they both made their way to the cabin.
An elderly man in jeans and a flannel shirt slowly walked toward them, leaning on a knobby walking stick. Joanna felt her throat tighten as she saw a near duplicate of her dead father.
Imaginary father. she had to remind herself.
"Stopped by Brown's stand. Brought you peaches, last of the season." James O'Neill looked up to see Joanna waiting in the background.
"You steppin' out on Rosie, Jack?" he frowned up at his son.
"No, Dad, she's just a friend." He took the paper bag of peaches from him. "This is Joanna O'Neil. I work with her."
His father hmphed. "Oh yeah, that 'deep space telemetry' job of yours." Coming closer he peered at Joanna. "O'Neill, huh? You look a lot like my sister, what branch are you from?"
"It's one ell, actually," she corrected, unconsciously standing up straighter. "Aunt Dorothy," she mouthed at a puzzled Jack.
Their father snorted. "Oh, THAT branch. Humorless sods, all of them."
"Tell me about it," interjected Joanna, under her breath.
"But if Jackie'll vouch for you. " James turned toward the lake. "Come on, the fish won't wait!"
Jack and Joanna watched silently as he went around the back of the cabin.
"Go on," she said, taking the fruit from him. "I'll take these in."
"Okay." He hesitated, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder as she gave him a watery smile.
~~~~~
"Hope you have something else for dinner, Jackie m'boy, since the damn fish weren't biting again." James grunted his thanks as Joanna handed him a scotch and soda.
"Steaks are marinating as we speak, and the grill is almost ready to go." Pulling a beer out of the 'fridge, Jack came over to see what Joanna was doing.
"You got sour cream for those potatoes?" yelled James from the living room.
"Yes, Dad," Jack answered.
"And the real butter?"
"Yes, Dad," chanted Jack and Joanna. She froze, but James just chuckled.
"Cobbler?" Jack reached for a piece but Janna smacked his hand with the flat of her knife.
"Over there." She motioned to a small bowl with a bit left over in it. "I know us."
"Sweet." Forgoing a spoon, Jack pressed the butter, brown sugar, and flour crumbs together and ate with his fingers. "Mom made the best cobbler. Dad and I tried, even Rose gave it a shot, but it never was the same."
"I know. This is her recipe." Joanna slid the pan into the oven and began to wipe the counter down.
Jack paused, hand halfway to his mouth. "How can you know it? I don't even know it."
Shrugging, she looked over at him. "We used to watch her, right? You do know it, somewhere in that thick head of yours. Loki gave me memories of her teaching it to me; traditional mother/daughter bonding over cooking lessons," she added with a touch of mockery.
"Well, I'm glad he did. Dad will be too. Can you, ah, write it down for us?" Jack peered into the bowl, searching for the last bit of brown sugar and butter.
"Of course. You better get those steaks on. We're just about ready."
~~~~~
"Git. Go sit with your Dad." Joanna took the last of the plates from Jack as he cleared the table.
He frowned, looking back to the sofa where James sat with his feet up. "He's your Dad too."
Shaking her head, Joanna nudged him out of the kitchen. "I need some time. He's been dead to me for two years. You think seeing a Sam and a Daniel who didn't know me was tough ."
"Oh yeah." Thoughtful, Jack nodded then went to sit next to James. The two O'Neill men sat in silence only broken by the sound of dishes being washed.
"So who is she? Really?"
Jack looked over at his father, the old man's face thrown into shadows by the fire. A creeping feeling of unease started to come over him.
"A friend."
James laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "Give me some credit, Jackie m'boy. She's the spitting image of Dorothy, she knew how I liked my scotch and soda, that cobbler tasted exactly like your mother's, which I know for a fact is a Ryan family secret; she moves like you, acts like you, sounds like you. She has all your ways."
"Dad ."
"I know your job doesn't have anything to do with deep space telemetry. I suspect the deep space part is right though. I may not act like it, but I love you, and ever since Charlie. I've been keeping my eye on you. Sarah told me a little bit about when you came to the house looking for him about two years after he died."
Jack sighed, watching the light refract in his beer bottle. "This is nothing like that."
James sighed too. "I don't care about your work, just as long as you come back in one piece." He tossed back the last of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. "I just wish your mother was still alive. She always wanted a daughter."
~~~~~
"He knows."
Joanna turned from contemplating the scenery speeding by at seventy miles an hour to look at Jack.
"How much?"
Jack frowned. "Okay, he doesn't know, but he sure suspects something."
"He's a smart man, I'm not surprised." They fell silent for a few more miles. "So what now?"
"Nothing. He'd just like to see you again."
"Of course." Joanna twisted the silver ring on her finger. "So you do Thanksgiving or Christmas?"
"Christmas. But don't let me not being there stop you from going other times."
She nodded, turning back to the scene out the window.
