Jaxson shook his head as a fresh wave of grief, only slightly dulled by time, washed over him. “He passed a while back.”
“Ah hell. I’m sorry to hear that,” Zeb said, sounding sincere. “He was a good man. Knew his way around an engine.”
“You knew him?”
“Yeah, I knew him. We went through basic together, both as green and wet behind the ears as they come. He was one of the best damn mechanics I’ve ever seen.” Zeb inclined his head toward the bike. “Like father, like son, huh?”
Jaxson nodded once, the lump in his throat requiring a moment before he said anything. “It shouldn’t take much to get her drivable again, but I need the right tools and equipment. Looks like you’ve got both.”
“That I do,” Zeb agreed. “I usually don’t let anyone touch my tools, but I suppose I can make an exception for Bo’s son. Use whatever you need.”
“Thanks.”
After Harry’s warning about Zeb not being a friendly sort, he’d been prepared for a colder reception. Then again, maybe Zeb just didn’t like Harry.
Jaxson removed his slicker and hung it on one of the many pegs on the wall, his hands itching to get to work. Three of the four bay walls were covered in equipment and tools, much like his own garage. Jaxson moved toward them, his eyes scanning for what he needed.
“Motorcycle accident?” Zeb asked, no doubt referring to Jaxson’s limp.
“Car bomb,” Jaxson answered without turning around.
“Ah. Followed in your dad’s footsteps and went into the Army, too, eh?”
Jaxson nodded and selected a couple socket wrenches and a small mallet. With luck, he wouldn’t have to replace the peg. Finding an authentic replacement could be a challenge.
“Only had daughters myself,” Zeb said, shaking his head. “Four of them. Just married the last one off. My oldest used to come by and tinker sometimes, but she’s got her hands full with her own kids now.”
Jaxson didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Zeb didn’t seem to mind. He eased himself onto a stool and carried on the conversation himself.
“Quiet guy, huh? Your dad was like that, too. Didn’t say much. Told me one time I talked enough for the both of us.” Zeb chuckled at the memory. “This used to be my dad’s place. I told Bo that if he ever needed a job, he’d have one here. He actually looked me up after he got out, too, but things had changed by then.”
Jaxson’s heart beat faster at the confirmation that his father had been in Sumneyville at one time. “What happened?”
“Life,” Zeb said with a shrug and a wry smile. “Back home less than a month, I was working on a truck. The lift gave out, and I got pinned. Ended up losing a piece.” Zeb lifted his left arm, revealing his prosthetic. “We didn’t have insurance, and the medical bills cut deep. Then, my dad got dementia. People tried to help, did what they could, but with my dad and me out of commission, the garage went out of business. I’ve had offers on the place, but ...” Zeb scratched his neck. “I guess I wouldn’t mind selling to someone, but they’d have to be the right someone, if you know what I mean.”
Jaxson nodded in understanding and carefully lowered himself to the ground to get a better look at the damage.
“What about you?” Zeb asked. “What are you doing now that you’re out?”
“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do,” Jaxson answered honestly. “I only got out about a week ago.”
“A week! What the hell are you doing in Sumneyville, son?”
Jaxson couldn’t have asked for a better opening. “Looking for someone. A woman named Ilsa.”
“Ilsa,” Zeb mused, wariness entering his tone. “Ilsa Appelhoff?”
“That’s the one.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you came all this way for nothing. Ilsa passed a long time ago.”
“I’ve heard.” Jaxson gave a hard turn on the wrench, removing the damaged shift peg. “Mind if I use your vise?”
Zeb waved his okay.
“Can you tell me how she knew my father?”
“What makes you think Ilsa knew your father?” Zeb asked, his voice curiously neutral.
“He kept her letters. I found them when I was going through his things.”
Zeb was quiet for a few minutes, as if thinking, and then nodded. “Her family had a bakery in town, and your dad had a thing for pie, if I recall.”
Jaxson debated on how much to reveal and then decided to put it out there. If Zeb was going to be forthright, then so would he. “The letters suggested there was something between them, but he never mentioned her.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
Jaxson was sure he had, too. That didn’t mean Jaxson didn’t want to know what they were, especially since there was a very real possibility that he had family he didn’t know about.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what those reasons might have been, would you?”
“Why is it so important to you?”
“It just is.”
“You are just like your dad.” Zeb chuckled softly and then grew serious again. “I suppose you’ve got your reasons, too.”
Jaxson nodded.
“All right, son. I don’t imagine you’re likely to get the answers you’re looking for from anyone else, and seeing as you’re Bo’s son and all, I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much, mind you.”
Zeb took a deep breath and several moments, as if gathering his thoughts.
“Ilsa was ... not like other girls. My mother used to say she walked to the beat of a different drummer. Worked a lot and kept to herself mostly. All the Appelhoffs were like that. Not bad people, but not very sociable.”
Jaxson nodded again.
“Ilsa took a liking to your dad though. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, and I’d hear them talking out on the back porch.”
“And?”
“And nothing. After a week or so, your dad went back home.”
”That’s it?”
Zeb looked uncomfortable, like he knew more but didn’t want to say. Jaxson understood his reticence, but this was important.
“I read the letters,” Jaxson reminded him quietly. “I know there was more to it than that.”
Zeb exhaled. “In Ilsa’s mind maybe. Not your dad’s. I’m not saying he was totally without blame, but he didn’t understand what he was getting into, not right away. Ilsa mistook his attention for something more. Bo felt bad about that, I think, but he was still trying to find his way.”
That was something Jaxson understood all too well.
“What happened after he left?”
“Nothing much,” Zeb said on a shrug. “Ilsa stopped coming by. She left home not too long after, if I remember correctly. Next I heard was a couple years later, when social services showed up at the bakery with little Sammy in tow, saying Ilsa was gone and they were the next of kin.”
“You have no idea what happened?”
Zeb shook his head. “Not sure anyone does. Like I said, the Appelhoffs kept to themselves. There were rumors, of course. Always are in a situation like that, but that’s all they are—rumors.” Zeb pinned him with a look. “And nothing I’m willing to repeat, so don’t bother asking.”