“I’m Charlotte,” I tell him as we shake hands. “You can call me Lottie.”
“Mitchell Lochlan. My friends call me Mitch,” he says. “I’ve heard so much about you on this trip. I feel like I’ve known you most of my life.”
“Oh boy, I can’t imagine what Jack had to say. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Mitch follows me down the hall. I show him into my office. I’ve opted to give Jack the guest room because it’s closer to Arla’s room, and I have a feeling he might want to be nearby. “You’re away from all the noise in the morning,” I say. “Arla can be a bit loud when she wakes up. She likes to sing and dance before school.”
“Sounds like my sister. She hasn’t met a song she doesn’t like.”
I laugh. “That’s Arla. She knows none of the lyrics and still belts out the words like she wrote the song.”
After Mitch sets his stuff down, I show him the bathroom and into the kitchen, where I have set out some sandwiches my grandma made, as well as lemonade and a plate of freshly baked cookies.
“You own the restaurant with all the beer, right?”
I nod. “I do.” There is no need to explain that my grandparents are private partners or that someday I’ll inherit the business entirely if I want it.
“The beer bar is amazing. Best thing I’ve seen in years.”
“Really? I figured in Italy they must have something similar.”
“Nah,” he says with the shake of his head. “Wine everywhere. Craft beer is starting to become popular, but it’ll never be as popular as wine.”
“Well, I’ll have to visit because I do love a nice wine.”
“Jack would like that.” Mitch’s eyes go wide, and he closes his mouth. He likely just betrayed his friend, and I’m going to pretend he never said anything.
I suggest Mitch dig in and hand him a plate. Over the years, I’ve learned that people are unlikely to start eating until the host does, so I make myself a plate and set two more out—one for Jack and the other for Arla. As tempted as I am to check on them, I don’t. They need their time together to navigate these thick waters created by absence and distance.
Mitch and I sit down across from each other. I ask him where he’s from and about his life. He talks a mile a minute, telling me everything about his family and how his girlfriend from high school is still around, but he can’t decide if he loves her the way he should or if he loves the idea of her. “Either way,” he says, “with me being stationed in Italy, our relationship is sort of a moo point.”
“Moot,” I say automatically. I pause and shake my head. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have corrected you.”
Mitch laughs. “I say moo because Joey from FRIENDS is my favorite character ever. He makes me laugh when I need it the most.”
“Moo, it is.”
Mitch’s statement makes me wonder if he and Jack have been to war. It’s not a question I should ask, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. Honestly, aside from Jack and Mitch, I’ve never spent much time with anyone from the service. Shockingly, none of my siblings or cousins have ever talked about enlisting. Although my cousins, Rhys and Oscar, could use the discipline. My uncle Dean lets those boys run wild.
We are halfway through our meal when Jack and Arla finally join us. They’re holding hands, and I try not to get choked up, but my efforts fail me.
“Hey,” he says when we make eye contact.
“Hey.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute? Somewhere private?”
“Of course. Arla, sweetie, this is Mitch. Jack’s friend. Be nice,” I warn her even though she’ll be a real peach to him.
“Sup,” he says to her as I push my chair away from the table. I follow Jack but tap him on the shoulder to come with me down the hall. We step into my bedroom, probably not the best idea, but it’s the most private, and Arla knows to knock and wait before she’s allowed to enter.
I sit on one end of the bed and pat the other for Jack, but he’s too focused on the photos I have around my room to pay attention. “I have duplicates of most of those if you want them.”
He nods and says nothing.
I get up from my bed and go into the closet. I pull down the box marked “Jack” and take it to him. “Everything in here is yours.”
His eyes are red-rimmed and full of unanswered questions. Jack takes the box from me and opens it carefully. “Why?”
“Why what, Jack?”
“Why does this box have my name on it?”
“Because I have held out hope we’d meet again someday. Or that when Arla turned eighteen, she could put her DNA into one of those search databases and find a match.” I shrug.
He thumbs through the box and pulls out a photo. “She looks a lot like you.”
“And you.”
“Let’s hope for her sake she takes after . . .” Jack pauses and smirks. “Never mind. She’ll have to tell all the boys that come calling her—” he stops and looks at me.
“Do you want to be Jack to her? Dad? Father? It’s your choice.”
He guffaws. “She asked me the same thing and told me pointedly she intends to call me dad, so I should accept it.”
I start to laugh. “I think I forgot to mention she’s very opinionated, strong-willed, and quick on her feet. There isn’t much that gets by her.”
“I think she’s amazing,” he says as he sets the box down. He finally sits, the mattress sagging a bit. “I don’t know how to proceed. Do you need money?” Jack asks. “I don’t have much, but I can pay child support. I’ll change my life insurance over to her name right away. I’ll have the base call you so you can give them all her information if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine, Jack. I don’t need child support or anything.” I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. “My door is always open for whatever you want or need when it comes to Arla. I’m not keeping her from you, hiding her, or demanding anything. She knows you live in Italy but doesn’t quite understand that part other than you not being here every day. I fully expect her to text you non-stop, video chat, and she’s already started a new book of drawings she wants to send. If you don’t want any of this from her, just say so. I can deal with it. But, if you start a relationship with her, I ask that you keep it. I don’t want to hear in six months, or a year this isn’t working out for you.”
Jack looks at me. There’s so much emotion in his eyes, in his features. He’s hurting, and I caused it even though that was never my intent. “I’m not going anywhere, Charlotte. I don’t even know her and can already say she’s the best thing to ever happened to me. Already, my life has meaning and purpose. I’ve never had something that belongs to me until now.”
Without hesitation, I pull him into my arms. I know all about his childhood and going from home to home. He confided in me when we were teens how he’d often show up at a new home with nothing but the clothes on his back. Until he met my family and me, Jack never had anything new. One day, while we were shopping, my mom bought him a whole wardrobe of things without him knowing. When we arrived back at my house, and he was helping carry bags in, she pulled him aside and handed everything over. I know he cried in her arms that day, but he would never admit it.