CHAPTER THREE: HEROES STILL
After a solid hour of plowing, shoveling and snow blowing, Jack, the boys and Beth came in from the cold, a gust of icy wind at their backs.
"Hey, Gracie, get your butt out there and do some work," Jake called to his twin sister as he shook off the snow and came to stand in front of the roaring fireplace.
"Yeah, how come Grace gets to stay in here, Mom? What makes her so special?" Jon piped in, looking every bit as frozen as his big brother.
"Leave her alone," Beth said, "can't you see she's having a private talk with Mom? She's probably in trouble."
Jack and Sam exchanged knowing looks across the room, resisting the urge to chuckle at their youngest child's patented ability to get to the heart of the matter.
"In fact, Beth, she's not in trouble at all and I think we're all finished," Sam countered, standing up and smiling softly at her older daughter. The smile was warmly returned as Grace silently mouthed the words, 'thank you' and stood up as well.
"Yeah, I think we'd better move out, Mom. It looks like Jake's planning to drip dry in front of the fireplace," Grace quipped, making a face at her brother, reminiscent of their antics at a much younger age.
Jake shot her a look even as he stood in front of the fire, divesting himself of snow gear and rapidly creating a nice little puddle on the hard wood floor. "Sorry, Mom," he said, finally realizing what he was doing. I'll clean it up."
"You do that, Jake," Jack said, "then I sure hope it's time for the great coffee I smell. Maybe cake, too?"
"I'll get the coffee, Dad," Grace said, walking past her father. "Oh," she added, almost as an afterthought, stopping in her tracks, "I love you, Dad. And by the way, not all boys are dogs, you know."
Grace walked calmly out of the den and towards the kitchen. Jon and Beth followed, lured by the promise of cake. Jack stood, staring after all of them, not saying a word.
"What?" Sam asked, walking over to her husband and placing her hand on his arm.
Jack turned slowly to look at her and answered with a question of his own, "Good talk, huh?"
"Yes, it was," Sam replied with a satisfied smile, waiting for whatever Jack really wanted to tell her.
"I'll have you know, I was one of those dogs in high school," he said solemnly..
Sam smiled. It explained a lot.
OoOoOo
After hot drinks, lunch and eventually, cake – actually, leftover brownies -- the O'Neills realized it was already the middle of the afternoon. While Jack and Jake cleaned up the kitchen, Jon, the girls and Sam, headed outside for an old fashioned snowball war. After all, what else was there to occupy time on a snowbound Monday afternoon?
Jake had slowly started to relax about the school activities he was missing today. Once he'd seen the size of the drifts he quickly realized the situation was out of his control. After making a quick set of calls to all his basketball teammates and the coach, he realized practice would simply be rescheduled. As for the physics project, with a little luck he might actually find some time tonight to add a few finishing touches.
"Enough of this cleaning, Dad," Jake said eventually, never one for doing dishes or other domestic chores. "Let's go show them what a real snowball fight is all about!"
"Jake, I was thinking we could go for a ride, just the two of us," Jack suggested as an alternative. "We could take the 'Cats'; it's been awhile since we had a chance to use them." Usually the snowmobiles were reserved for trips to the cabin in Minnesota.
"Really? That would be great, Dad." Jake said, struggling to restrain his excitement; he didn't want his father to notice how glad he was to have some time alone with him. The older Jake got, the more he felt the need for independence and the desire to prove his worth to everyone, especially his dad. Though the seventeen-year-old did his best to pull away from the rules and structures of his parents, his respect for both his mother and father was an abiding principle in his life.
"Yeah, time to fire up those machines and give them some miles," Jack said in response. "It's just the day for it. We can check out what's going on around here, how close they are to getting the roads open." Besides, we need to talk, Jack thought to himself.
OoOoOo
The other kids only whined momentarily when Jack announced he and Jake were taking the Arctic Cats for a ride. Sam had done her best to distract them, smiling to herself at Jack's uncharacteristically subtle technique. He really was a great dad, even if he did need encouragement every once in awhile to rein in some of his more extreme parenting impulses.
The sprawling O'Neill home was located in a Colorado Springs' suburban development that backed up to a small wooded area. It was a quiet neighborhood and today's snowfall had made it even more so. The only vehicles on the roads today were plows and snowmobiles. The city plows had been through once, but it would be awhile before more traditional transportation was going anywhere.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was out and the wind had died down. It was a beautiful winter day for snowmobiling. With only two hours before sunset, Jack and Jake set off on their trek. Fortunately, the snowmobiles were in good working order and they were off down the road before they knew it. After a brief tour of the neighborhood, checking out their neighbors playing in the snow and the progress or lack thereof of snow removal, Jack deftly detoured into the wooded area.
The woods had long ago been altered to accommodate snowmobiles with two trails cleared of trees and other debris. Now Jack and Jake rode down one of these trails, leading them to the nearby golf course, abandoned now except for a handful of hardy cross-country skiers and other snowmobiles barely visible in the distance.
"Hold up," Jack called, braking and pulling up towards the center of a clearing. Jake noticed his dad had stopped and parked by his side, mere inches away.
"You know it's a bad idea to drive one of these drunk or high, right?" Jack began.
Jake looked at his father. The man's face was still ruggedly handsome and though he'd never tell him so, he could only hope to age as well. As usual, that familiar face bore no trace of what was really going on his head and for a moment, Jake was dumfounded. What was his dad getting at? Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.
"What are you getting at, Dad?" Jake asked, not sure he wanted to know, and hoping his first supposition was wrong.
"Oh, not much, Jake," Jack replied, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Both he and his son were staring off into the distance, avoiding looking directly at each other. "I was moving your car yesterday and I found the butt end of a joint. I was wondering about that."
Jake wasn't ready to come clean about this with his father. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to leave it in plain sight! What was I thinking? He berated himself. Dad is gonna be so pissed!
Jake's next move was poorly considered.
"You're kidding! I can't believe he left that in my car!" he offered.
"So it was …one of your friends?" Jack pursued, wondering how far his son would take this little scam.
"Yeah, Dad," Jake lied, feeling like he was going to be sick. Lying to Jack O'Neill was so not a good plan. But as much as he knew this from past experience, Jake couldn't help himself. "You know, I told him to not leave anything in my car."
"Really?" Jack said rhetorically. "So how many people smoke pot in that car I signed off on?"
Oh boy, here we go, Jake thought. He brought me out here so I couldn't call for help.
"Just the one guy, Dad. Honest. And believe me he'll never do it again," Jake said with as much sincerity as he could muster.
"Hmm… that's good," Jack said calmly, still sharing the gaze of denial as they both focused on the clubhouse in the distance. "How 'bout you, you smoke?"
Jake was so glad he wasn't looking at his dad. He swallowed hard, blinked and gave it his best shot. "You know I hate cigarettes, Dad. And the pot, well I told this guy I didn't want to see it again."
At that, Jake felt rather than saw his father's eyes on him. Actually, they were boring a hole into him. Give it up, he told himself. Reluctantly, he turned in his seat to face his father. The face of an intergalactic hero, his father's face, was still impassive. Who was toying with whom?
"Okay, Jake, so which of your friends had the pot?" Jack asked, knowing he had his prevaricating son on the ropes and wondering how long it would take to get the truth.
This was one thing Jake never could do, get a friend in trouble. Even if it did mean saving himself from his father's wrath, he couldn't sacrifice a friend, or anyone else in the process.
"Fine, there wasn't a friend in the car, Dad. It was mine. You happy now?" he quipped cheekily.
"No, I'm not happy, Jake," came the reply, in the dangerous tone Jake was used to when his father was on edge. "I'm not 'happy' at all, son. Actually, I'm angry and I'm worried. How 'bout you. Happy?"
Jake looked at his father, trying for the life of him to make his face an impassive mask as well. He'd give anything right now to hear his father launch into a loud, angry tirade. It would make it so much easier to respond in kind.
"Dad, honest, I've only tried it twice. That's it."
"Honest? Okay, that's a refreshing change of pace after the happy horse manure you just gave me. It's a stupid thing to do and you don't do stupid things," Jack stated matter-of-factly.
"Stupid? Dad, lots of my friends smoke a little weed. It's no big deal."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. Some people even think it helps them concentrate on their school work."
"Oh, yeah! Pot's really well known for that," Jack stated in his most grandiose sarcastic tone. "You must have gotten that piece of stunning research from a Potheads of America website.
"Dad! Hey, I've read about the sixties and seventies in history class. I know you did some of the stuff when you were my age."
"In history? Oh thanks, Jake, now I feel even older than I am," Jack said, really wishing Sam had volunteered to help him with this. "Listen, sure I smoked some pot back in the day. The fact I did it doesn't make it a good idea, then or now."
Jake looked at his father, wondering where he was going with this.
"Not everything I've done was a good idea. Marrying your mother, now that was one of my better ones. Having you kids, that was yet another stroke of genius. Pot and all the drinking I did, those weren't my best moments, Jake."
Both Jake and his father were silent for a few moments, breaking eye contact when it became too intense. Then Jack continued.
"You know the real problem, Jake? I started to think doing that stuff was just normal, no big deal. That's when problems start," Jack said, pausing as he recalled some of his own regrets. "Jake, I know you've got to make your own decisions, much as I'd like to make them for you. At least I feel better about it after hearing what you had to say today."
"Huh? What do you mean, Dad?" Jake asked, truly wondering what part of the absolutely pathetic stuff he'd said would've given his father any confidence in his decision making ability.
"It was that song and dance you gave me about the pot, son," Jack said. "I know you. When you believe you're right, you never hesitate to stand up to me. If you thought the pot was a good idea, you would have told me so."
Jake shook his head. "You're right," he admitted, finally giving it up. "I'm sorry, Dad."
"You're sorry? For what?" Jack asked, wondering how this was going to play out.
"Lying, more than anything," Jake answered. "You deserve better than that from me." Jake could feel the flush in his face as he spoke and it wasn't from the cold. He was sorely embarrassed that he had lied to his father.
"That's as it should be, Jake," Jack replied simply. "Let's go home."
TBC
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story so far.
There is one more chapter to complete this short one and it will be up this weekend if all goes well.
Please review and let me know how you think Jack did.
