Page 11 of Smuggler's Cove
It occurred to her there had been a lot of talk about war during the past decade. J.T. rarely spoke about his experiences in World War II, but sometimes, when he had been drinking, he would rant about the horrors he’d witnessed. And then came the Korean War and daily reports of the fighting, bombing, and loss of lives. Rita never thought about the impact this was having on her. She promised herself she would be more aware and more engaged with her children.
“We’re having mac and cheese for dinner,” she announced.
“Goody!” He whooshed the bug as if it were in flight. “I like mac and cheese!” He smiled up at his mother and waved one of the bugs at her. “This one is the good guy.”
Rita felt a sense of relief. Jackson was behaving like a kid—playful, imaginative, full of joy. He wasn’t sullen or unhappy.
“I’ll call you for dinner as soon as it’s ready.” Rita moved toward her bedroom.
“Okay!” Jackson sang out.
Rita rummaged through the dresser drawers where her husband kept his personal papers. She was taken aback when she found a disciplinary letter from the railroad among his things. She slumped on the bed and read it. He had been caught drinking on the job and put on probation. The letter was dated a year ago. The probation was for a period of one year. She checked the calendar. The year was up this week. She wondered if that had anything to do with the accident. She thought she may never know.
She continued to sift through the papers and found his military discharge. At least it was “Honorable.” She slipped the paper into her purse and returned to the kitchen, where George was dutifully stirring the cheese with one hand and the boiling macaroni with the other.
“You are a man of many talents,” Rita quipped.
“At your service, madam.” George bowed with a flourish.
Rita smiled but quickly turned serious. “I found the discharge papers, but there was also something among his things.”
George noticed the corners of her mouth turned down. George furrowed his brow.
Rita continued, “There was a disciplinary letter from the railroad. He was caught drinking on the job.”
George stopped stirring. “When was this?”
Rita looked down the hall to be sure Jackson wasn’t within earshot. “A year ago. He was on probation for a year, and the year expired this past week.”
“Hmm. Do you think it was a night of celebration that got him into this?”
“Possibly.” Rita sighed. “But I can’t let his behavior have a negative influence on the children. I have to come up with a plan. Regardless of what happens at the hospital, I must find a way to be more in control. You saw Jackson’s mood swings?”
“I thought it was the change in scenery. Being away from home. But when the call from the hospital came, I dunno, the kid acted strange. No offense.”
“None taken. But you are correct. I don’t think we realize how much our moods affect others, no matter how hard you try to pretend things are alright.” Rita was nodding to herself. “I think I should speak to a lawyer.”
“About?” George thought he knew the answer.
“A divorce.” Rita pulled out the colander and handed it to George. “I can’t keep living this way, and now I see how much it’s influenced my son. Kirby is still young, but in a couple of years, he’ll be Jackson’s age, and Jackson will be older and much more aware.”
“Whatever you need, Rita. Betty and I will back you up.” He rinsed the macaroni and then dumped it into the pot of melted cheese.
“Look at you! A regular Chef Boyardee,” Rita joked. “I’ll get Jackson.” She went down the hall and found Jackson lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Sweetie? Are you okay?”
“Yep. Is dinner ready?”
“Yep,” she replied. “Come on.”
They returned to the kitchen, where George was scooping the saucy mac into bowls. The three sat at the kitchen table and ate. Uncle George was encouraging conversation with Jackson. “Your mom tells me you like Cootie bugs?”
“I like to smash ’em up,” Jackson said gleefully.
George shot a glance at Rita, who nodded imperceptibly with a worried look in her eyes.
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