Page 10 of Hometown Harbor 4

“I think Julie is giving him enough of that. I’ll at least go in and cover him with a blanket,” Deenie said.

Tabitha smiled. There was nothing that girl wouldn’t do to keep her folks happy, which made her and Greg fortunate parents. She told the kids to eat anything they wanted while she went upstairs to bathe before bed.

7

Deenie took three pints of ice cream from the freezer, a squeeze bottle of chocolate sauce, and two spoons. She brought them to the nook where Kylen was waiting with a watering mouth. There was a mint chocolate chip, a cookie dough, and a chocolate brownie-flavored pint that reflected the different tastes of the women. It seemed that April had eaten hers because she always had some incarnation of strawberry.

Kylen slapped a slip of paper down on the table. The name Charles McGowan was written on the front.

“Is that him?” Deenie asked. They had talked about it earlier in the evening. Deenie hadn’t remembered him ever mentioning the man before now, and she didn’t know what prompted it.

“That’s my pop, or at least his name. Ah, let me rephrase that. He’s my sperm donor, and all I want to know is what he looks like. I want you to pull up his pic, and I don’t want to know another scrap of information about him. His address is probably the state prison, and I could care less if he has an abnormally high IQ. I don’t care if he runs a soup kitchen for those less fortunate or if he runs any marathons. It’s all about what I will look like in twenty-five years,” Kylen said seriously.

Deenie went to grab her laptop so she didn’t have to peck away at her phone. She checked on her father while she was at it, and since he was already a side sleeper, she didn’t have to turn him over. She learned in health class that drunk people sleeping on their backs could aspirate their vomit, choke, and die. Deenie retained the grossest facts, and that was one of them. She supposed that she would learn a lot more if she pursued a nursing degree.

She returned to the nook to find Kylen deep into the mint chocolate chip ice cream. Give me that name again, and I’ll show you the man you’re curious about. Deenie typed in the name, and after a few clicks, her eyes widened.

“What? I don’t care if he’s a she now or dead. I just want to see Charles McGowan.”

Deenie turned the screen so Kylen could see his biological father.

“It’s weird, right?” Deenie asked.

“It’s not every day that you find out someone is walking around with your exact face. His coloring is different, and he’s older, of course, but his genes are pretty strong.”

Deenie guessed that Kylen must have been shaken by his resemblance to Charlie. His life without a dad was good, and he didn’t seem to want anything to change. He told Deenie that he just wanted to know that he was real.

“Do you want me to tell you what he does for a living?” Deenie asked. She was curious, so she assumed Kylen would be also.

“No. I was serious when I said I didn’t want to know anything else. I know what I’ve always known.”

“What have you always known?” Deenie asked.

“I’ve known that DNA is powerful, but it doesn’t necessarily make a family. My mother, uncle, you, and Aunt Tabitha are family. I don’t want to know where he is, and I don’t want to know about his family. Thanks for your help.”

“Deenie quickly scanned the page before closing the computer. She saw he had two sons and owned a shop that sold Halloween stuff in October and Christmas curios in winter. He had a wife named Ginny, and he liked to golf. It would be hard for Deenie to keep her mouth shut, but she would try.

Kylen changed the subject as if they weren’t even talking about the man who got his mother pregnant seventeen years earlier. He was loyal to his mother and wasn’t going to insult her by looking for his bio dad.

“Are you hanging out with Dalton tomorrow night since it’s your last night in Melbourne Beach?” Kylen asked.

“Yup, that’s the plan. I’m scared that he will hang with other girls while he’s at school. Do you think the same thing our parents think that a long-distance relationship is a bad idea with a senior in high school and a freshman in college?”

“Deenie, you’re stubborn, and I really don’t think anything I say will change your mind. Everyone thinks Dalton is the one who will have a hard time, but I think it’s going to be you. Dalton’s leg will slow him down, but your senior year of high school will be fire. You’ve got homecoming and prom, which are off the hook.”

“I never looked at it from my side. I control things if it’s like that, and I plan to invite Dalton to all those things,” Deenie said. “It’s going to be epic.”

Kylen squished his face. “He’s done that stuff, and from what I get, it was valid. Dalton isn’t exactly one to sit out a sick time, and you shouldn’t either. Let’s say Dalton can’t get away from Tallahassee to go to a high school party. Are you going to stay home? Dalton really doesn’t want that, and neither should you. You forget that you have a gang of friends back home, including Cay. She’ll be hurt if you sit out all the fun.”

“I like living in my fantasy bubble instead, but I asked for your advice, and you always tell it like it is,” Deenie said. “You’re right about Cay. We’ve been talking about this year since we were freshmen.”

Quinnie Cosgrove came down from her mother’s room, looking for something in the freezer. Kylen and Deenie looked down at the empty cartons on the table and felt guilty.

“You aren’t going to find any ice cream in there. We couldn’t decide and got carried away,” Kylen admitted.

“That’s okay - all’s fair in love, war, and any time ice cream is involved. There’s still this cake that my mom made. Mind if I join you since it looks like you’re night owls like me? My mother has been sleeping for hours, and I just don’t get it. When I’m old like her, I still imagine I’ll be up late. What are we discussing? It has to be more interesting than what we want to serve for the beach-side wedding,” Quinnie said. “My mom wants canapes, but I’m thinking sushi.”

“Totally. Canapes are nothing more than tiny white bread sandwiches,” Kylen said.

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