Jack and Denny staked out a little piece of river on Saturday and began casting. Fly-fishing was a quiet sport for the most part and Jack waited a long time to begin talking.

“This place has a reputation for father-son talks,” he said. “Rick wasn’t really my son, but I thought of him like you would a son. He counted on me like a kid would a father, that’s for sure. This was the place I brought him when he was sixteen to tell him not to mess with his fourteen-year-old girlfriend. He promised me he wouldn’t, but I gave him some condoms anyway.”

“How’d that work out for him?” Denny asked.

“He got her pregnant.” Denny just whistled. “Then I brought him here to counsel him about not giving in to panic. I told him to come to me with his issues, that I could probably help him somehow, but that he shouldn’t be crazy enough to try to marry some young girl just because she was pregnant, only making one problem into several problems. By that time they were fifteen and seventeen, so…” Jack paused. “So, they ran away to get married.”

“I know Rick’s married, but I guess I didn’t realize he’d been married as a teenager.”

“He wasn’t. I caught up with them, stopped them. He married Liz, the same girl, last fall. That baby from their teenage years, that baby was stillborn. It was horrible for them. They stayed together—all through his Marine career, all through his war injuries and disabilities. They’ve had a rough road, but they love each other a lot. Needless to say, I don’t have a real good track record with the advice I give out on this river….”

“You oughta give yourself an A for effort, Jack. Sounds like you tried to do all the right things.”

“You know, probably the only reason I really thought of Rick like a son was because of his young age when I found him. Just a kid, not even close to grown-up. With you, it’s different—you’re a man. Even without that letter your mom left, even if that hadn’t become a consideration, we were bound to be friends. We think a lot alike. And it goes without saying—I’m proud of you, Denny. Proud of your actions, your behavior. Proud of your ethics. We were gonna be friends who just keep getting to be better friends. You’ve been there for me and my family in an outstanding way. Not only am I attached to you by now, Mel and the kids are, too.”

Denny performed a beautiful cast and said, “I told you, Jack—if you can’t think of me as your son, I get that. I mean, you don’t remember my mom, which isn’t your fault. And even without that, I like you and the family.”

“Denny, I remember your mother. It came to me all of a sudden at the picnic this week and I remember her very, very well. And… Denny, I’m not your biological father.”

When Denny turned to look at Jack, Jack met his eyes. Clearly Denny was shocked speechless.

“Here’s how it was, son. Your mom cut my hair every single week—she worked in the barbershop at the PX. I was a dedicated young Marine and I never let much hair cover my head. It wasn’t a quick friendship, but I liked her right away—she was awesome. She looked a little different back when I knew her—different than the picture you showed me. Her hair wasn’t brunette like in the picture. But now I know exactly why you turned out so great— Susan was the best. She was positive, friendly, happy all the time. I never let anyone touch my head but her. Not only did she do a real good job, I liked talking to her. We talked about our families, our ambitions. I was determined to make a name for myself in the Corps. She wanted to settle down, have a family. Then one day she wasn’t so happy and I took her out for some coffee, let her talk and found out she was in a bad relationship.

“We got to be real good friends, Denny. I was willing to do just about anything to help her get out of that bad situation—anything but marry her. I knew you were on the way and she was definitely worthy of a good solution, but I had my family—my parents and sisters—to consider. I couldn’t marry her just to help her out. My family would have higher expectations of me. They’d expect me to be a dedicated husband and father and I wasn’t ready. I didn’t love her that way. I would have ended up disappointing her, you and my whole family. But I laid it all on the line—I offered to help her financially, to help her get that guy out of her life for her, anything that would work. And then I got my orders. She slapped on a cheerful face, told me everything was going to be fine, her parents were on her side and she had all the help she needed. She also said she wished she’d have met me first—that I was the kind of man her child would be proud to have as a father.” Jack took a breath. “I had no idea what that might mean in the end. And now I understand why she did what she did. And I understand why you turned out to be a fine young man.”

Denny was quiet for a long time. Finally he let out a breath with the word, “God.”

Jack gave him some time to absorb all that. He fished awhile, grateful nothing bit; he didn’t want to be distracted. When Denny didn’t speak, Jack said, “I don’t see that it changes anything.”

“It changes everything,” Denny said at once.

“No, Denny, it just alters a few biological facts, but the important things are the same.”

“My mother lied to me,” he said. “My mother never lied. And she implicated you when you had nothing to do with me.”

“She reinvented your past. I know she had a reason. Probably a good one. And from what you told me, she didn’t expect you to hunt me down. She just wanted to give you some comfort. I’m good with that.”

“Because you don’t know the guy, Jack. If he’s my true father, I have issues to worry about.”

“Why? Because he wasn’t a good guy? What’s that have to do with you? You’re a good guy. And I have witnesses.”

“She made you a part of her drama and—”

“Stop right there. The Susan I knew didn’t have drama, she had survival instincts.”

“For all the good that did her,” Denny said with a bitter tone.

“I don’t think there’s a lot we can do about serious illness, son.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said, anger at the edges of his voice.

“Okay, listen up, kid. Last year Mel had it in her head we had to adopt a child. She just wasn’t done having children, but she’d had a hysterectomy so her body was done. When you came along she reminded me that we were ready to take on a child with different biological parents and she never doubted for a second that we’d accept that child as our own. She thought we—you and me—should do the blood work, if for no other reason than to know who was a potential candidate if anyone in the family ever needed help, like a bone marrow transplant. But she reminded me that the outcome of the blood work didn’t really matter in relationships. Relationships are connections you make. What that means, Denny, is you don’t have a connection with the man you always knew as your father because he was indifferent and cruel. You don’t owe him anything, either—let him go. You’re free to create your own family. Think about that.”

“Let me tell you what’s different, Jack. I came here to find you, thinking you were my father, thinking that meant I belonged here. I don’t belong here.”

“You do if you want to. I came here not knowing a soul and I dare you to argue I don’t belong here.”

“It’s different and you know it. I’m sorry. It was all a lie and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, I understand that you’re disappointed. Suck it up—we’re still good friends. You’re still important to the family, to the town, to a lot of people.”

“Yeah. Maybe, until they find out the truth.”

“I haven’t said anything to anyone about this.”

“You have to tell Mel,” Denny said.

“Of course I’ll tell Mel,” Jack replied. “But I don’t see why anything has to change between us. I don’t see why we have to alert the town. Give your mom a break here, kid. She had a dying wish. I don’t know if it was as much for you as for herself. She regretted that relationship. The only thing about it she didn’t regret was you. She wanted you. She loved you. She raised you right.”

“Yeah? Maybe so. But even considering that, I don’t feel like living a lie.”

“I know you’re offended. It wasn’t what you expected,” Jack said. “How about you just remember, it doesn’t have that much to do with us. We were friends for months before you laid this on me.”

Denny reeled in his fly. “Yeah. I understand. Listen, if it’s all right with you, I think I might be done fishing for today.”

Jill and Colin attended a great salmon dinner at Erin’s cabin; Jill brought a nice assortment of salad vegetables to contribute. Of course she already knew that she got along very well with Colin’s family, so no surprise there. And she not only offered a tour of the Victorian, she threw together a light dinner and invited them all to stay, including Denny.

But the real excitement in the weeks following the Fourth of July picnic came in the form of harvesting some of her most precious fruits and vegetables. The Russian Rose was in. Not quite as large as her nana used to get, but big, dark, delicious and beautiful. There were teardrop-shaped yellow tomatoes—a bush in the garden, a hanging basket on the porch. She had baby melons, miniature eggplants, a variety of colorful peppers, red lettuce, red brussels sprouts, tiny beets smaller than cherry tomatoes. Jillian and Denny boxed up some of her best samples of most rare and beautiful fruits and vegetables and shipped them off to Kelly via overnight express; she would know if they were just the sort of thing that high-end restaurants could use. Since they were free, Jill didn’t have to worry about licensing her farm and crop.

The rare heirlooms aside, she had a delicious assortment of organic fruits and vegetables—her zucchini, yellow hook squash, cucumbers, carrots, leeks and scallions were out of this world and she made baskets of them daily to be taken to Preacher. She even shared some of her rare lot with him; she couldn’t save it or eat it all. She did photograph everything, however.

Jillian and Denny were at the outside edge of the fenced garden gathering their crop in a wheelbarrow, separating what she wanted to eat and what she wanted to send to town.

“Don’t you want to take it to him, Jillian?” Denny asked her.

She shook her head. “No, go ahead. You were as much a part of growing it as I was, and don’t you usually stop there after work anyway?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug.

The way he glanced away and shrugged wasn’t the first time she noticed that he might be a little quieter than usual. In fact, he’d been less excited than she had expected. “Hey, is something wrong? I thought you were all keyed up for the harvest! And this is just the beginning.”

He just ducked his head shyly. She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back to face her. She tilted her head and gave a sharp nod, urging him to answer.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s better than I expected. You’ve got something, Jillian. I don’t know what it is, but if you stick a seedling or starter in the ground and nurse it along, it returns the favor and gets big, beautiful and strong. I never thought I could get so jazzed about that.”

“Unless we want it small, precious and rare,” she said with a smile. “What’s up with you?”

“Aw, I don’t know…”

“Spit it out,” she demanded.

“It’s too soon to say, really.”

“Say it anyway!”

“You know I like this, right? And you know it’s been working, right? At least I think so. But Jillian, I don’t know if it’s going to work for me in the long term. I’d never run out on you during your harvest, especially your first harvest, but I think I’m going to have to get serious about finding something more permanent. And no offense, something that has more security and benefits and pays a little… Sorry, but a little better. I’ve been kicking around going home.”

“Home?”

“San Diego,” he said. “I grew up there.”

“I thought you’d decided to relocate?”

He shrugged and looked away again. “I don’t know if that’ll work.”

“But Jack’s here,” she said, because everyone knew the story about how this young man had come here to find his father.

“Nothing stopping me from visiting sometimes,” he said.

Jillian shook her head. “Something else is going on here. Something—” She stopped talking as she was distracted by the sound of a vehicle. She automatically assumed it was Colin in his Jeep, then remembered the Jeep was already here as Colin was in the sunroom painting. She squinted toward the drive that ran along the side of the house and recognized the BMW convertible. “Aw, shit,” she said. “Christ on a crutch. Son of a bitch.”

“Um, I take it you’re not happy to see this guy?” Denny said.

“You armed? If you’re armed, just shoot him right now!”

“Jillian, maybe you should just take a few deep—”

But Denny watched as she stormed away, toward the BMW. A man got out and stormed toward her. He was about five-ten, blond, tan, slender, dressed like a city boy. But he had a sneer on his face. It was nothing to the grimace Jillian had on hers.

There was a part of Denny that thought it would be best to give her a little space to deal with whatever this was. Clearly it was private. It might be an old love affair gone sour. Hell, it could be an ex! But he just wasn’t comfortable letting the kind of blind rage he saw on Jillian’s face, matched by Mr. BMW, go without some backup. So he moved toward what was certainly going to be a conflict, but he tried to go slow to let her have her privacy and fast enough to intervene if necessary.