Chapter 2
As things turned out, it was the end of the week before they drove to the cottage. The lunch and John's appointments had exhausted him so he took an extra day to rest. Tim joined him for an early dinner both days, enjoying some quiet time with his father. While things were going well between them and he was still blown away by his father's two-fold admission of pride and being impressed, Tim was reluctant to open up any further with the Admiral. Baby steps, he told himself, taking a page out of DiNozzo's playbook. The second evening he was at his father's, he got a genuine call for help from Gibbs. Between his phone and ever-present laptop, he was able to dig through an electronic mess of folders and files to find information the team could use, his father watching discreetly behind him. Later that night as he was leaving his father's house, he received a text from Tony that the dirtbag had been caught, thanks in part to the information he had provided. His father, catching his son's smile, asked, "Good news?" "Yes, they captured the dirtbag; ah the perpetrator, with plenty of evidence." "And your work tonight helped them do that, didn't it son?" "Yeah Dad, it did." "I'm proud of you, Timothy and I regret ever thinking you were wasting your time or not working to your potential. You really enjoy this, don't you? "
Tim looked thoughtfully at his father. He had waited half his life to hear those words; he just wanted to savor them for a minute. Then he gave his father a big cheeky grin, "Yeah Dad, I do. After all, who's going to take care of the bad guys?" His father chuckled, recognizing his reference, and then asked if this latest case was one that would be included in the next adventure of L.J. Tibbs. At the jaw drop and look of utter amazement on his son's face, John laughed until it drove him into a coughing fit. After Tim hastily brought a glass of water, he breathed easier and told his son that Penny and Sarah had tag teamed him to make sure he read Tim's first book and he had put himself on automatic purchase for the others. Tim wondered why, if his father could stand to read his books, the man had never reached out to him before his illness and the case that threw them together.
Considering John's fluctuating energy levels, father and son decided to make their trip to the cottage an overnighter. After checking to ensure the place was empty of tenants and had internet capability, the two men took their overnight bags; John's with all his medications and had a leisurely drive. The property manager had been in to air out the place, even stocking a few groceries. The pair reached their destination in early afternoon and after tucking their bags away, stretched their legs with a walk on the beach. Returning to the cottage, they ate the lunch they had brought with them and then John headed to his room for a rest. Tim took the time to poke around the place, having not visited since his early teens. Relying on his memory, Tim found the secret release for a locked cabinet and chuckled at the treasures inside. A few rather ancient board games, some that he remembered being from his grandfather, although he suspected the hand carved chess 'n' checker set was from his great grandparents, a baby doll passed along to a very young Sarah from a great aunt and somehow left behind, and a treasured quilt, made by his great grandmother specifically for the cottage, wrapped carefully against the damp and dust. He removed the quilt and laid it carefully over the sofa so his father would see it when he got up from his nap.
Tim then inventoried the kitchen to see what he could pull together for dinner. He laughed to himself at the pile of takeout menus near the ancient phone; if there was any one thing he did not miss from work it was all the takeout. Finding the key ingredients for a favorite pasta dish and, bless the property manager, a fresh loaf of bakery bread, he quickly washed the pans and utensils he needed. Humming softly to himself, he started prepping the vegetables and herbs. As he finished his prep work, he realized his father had been asleep for nearly three hours; grinning to himself, he pulled a bag of freshly ground coffee out of the refrigerator and made their first pot of coffee. As anticipated, the smell of the fresh brew pulled his father from sleep just as the coffeemaker finished its cycle. Hearing the bedroom door open, Tim reached the living area at the same time as his father, handing the man a mug full of the deep rich nectar. Navy coffee, remarkably similar to Marine coffee. The two men took their mugs to the front porch where they sat quietly enjoying their beverage. After a few minutes, John started talking.
"I was just a baby when I first came here – as you were when you came along – the first trip I actually remember, I must have been 4 or 5. My grandparents always stayed here for the summer, my grandfather was retired by then and he hated being away from the ocean. My dad was pretty busy with his Navy career, sometimes he came with us, sometimes he visited us while we were here. Sometimes he never made it. Huh…" turning to look at his son, he continued, "sound familiar? Anyway, my grandparents always bought local fruits and vegetables and my grandmother canned them and made the most wonderful pies, jams and jellies. A lost art, I imagine. Nana and Pop had their routine and we pretty much followed it when we were here. A walk on the beach in the morning after breakfast, before it got too hot. We were allowed to play at the water line and get our feet wet, but no swimming before lunch, don't know why, maybe fewer cleanups of sandy, wet kids. Then back to cleaning up the cottage, doing the dishes, making the bed, whatever other chores Nana had for us, then we'd play on the porch for a while or we'd go for a walk in the woods. Sometimes I'd even get to go out to the pond, you remember the pond, Tim?" Tim nodded slowly; yeah he vaguely remembered a pond. "Pop and my dad would let me go fishing with them and we'd bring home dinner. Other times, we'd have a light lunch and then have to wait an entire hour before we could finally go swimming. We kids would spend the whole afternoon swimming in the ocean, playing in the waves, pretending to be all sorts of sea creatures. Whichever adult was with us, usually Nana and my mom, sometimes one of the great aunts, would prop up an umbrella and yell at us not to go out too far. At some point we had to get out to have a rest under the umbrella, but we were always allowed to go back in. "
"Sounds almost magical, Dad. I'd like to include that in one of my books."
"LJ Tibbs in the ocean? How would you make that work, son?"
"I'm spreading my wings with the writing, Dad; I actually have an outline ready for a children's book after I finish the next Deep Six."
"That would work!"
"Do you have more stories about your grandparents and their lives here? Do you know why they decided to build here? Did they ever live here fulltime? I don't know much about them."
"I've got plenty more stories, Tim, you sure you want to hear about those old days? No computers or anything electronic…hell there was barely electricity in the cottage!"
"Yeah, I do, Dad. I hope to have my own children some day and I'd like to have that family knowledge, the stories, the flavor they give to a kid's imagination."
John put his coffee mug down and looked thoughtfully at his son. "I know you'll be a better father than I've been, son. When you bring your kids here, I hope you do pass along the stories; you have a wonderful gift with words. I'm glad you're putting them to good use with your writing."
Tim felt his heart pound and his ears redden as he gave his dad a shy smile. "Thanks!"
After another cup of coffee and a few more stories, Tim completed making their dinner and the two sat down to enjoy the meal. They shared cleanup duties and then Tim pulled out the chess 'n' checkers set he'd found in the family cabinet.
"Dad, I found this in the locked cabinet, do you remember where it came from?"
"Let me see, Tim. I believe my grandfather made these, if I remember right, there should be a…" John turned the chessboard to the back, "yes, here it is, your great grandfather carved his initials and the date in the wood when he made the board and pieces."
"Wow, Dad, that's amazing!"
Examining the carefully carved chess and checker pieces, along with the board, they set it up and played a couple of games of checkers. As they finished their second game, Tim eyed the coffeemaker. John laughed softly and shook his head.
"You may not be Navy, son, but you sure drink coffee like a sailor!"
"Not a sailor, Dad; I've been working with a Marine for 10 years, more like a leatherneck!"
Both men chuckled and John rose from the armchair.
"I'm turning in, this has been great today. Tomorrow, how about we follow Nana's routine – beach walk in the morning, swim in the afternoon?"
"You want to stay an extra day, Dad?" "I'd like to son, if you do."
"Yeah, I'd really like that!"
The Admiral paused at the sofa and looked quizzically at Tim. "That's the quilt Nana made for this place. You found it in the family cabinet?"
"Yeah and it's in great shape, I thought you might want to use it while we're here."
"I will, thanks, haven't seen this since you were a baby, just learning to walk. Your mother was afraid that your cousins would ruin it, so she packed it away."
"Sarah and I used it, Dad; I guess just not when you were with us."
"Tim, I…tomorrow, I have some things I need to discuss with you."
"Ok, Dad. Maybe in the hour we have to wait between eating lunch and swimming?" Tim said, trying to lighten his father's mood. It worked; his father gave him a smile and patting his son on the shoulder, gathered up his Nana's quilt and headed to bed. Tim spent a few hours on his laptop, checking his e-mail and then doing some writing, capturing the stories his father had told him that afternoon while they were still fresh in his mind. When he finally fell asleep that night, it was to dream of a small boy, playing in the waves while two women watched from under an umbrella.
