Page 86 of Everything We Give

Ian wiped his damp palms on his athletic shorts. He bounced his knees and cracked his knuckles, pretending boredom to hide the nerves. What did Jackie have planned? He’d asked earlier and she wouldn’t tell him, simply replying, “You’ll see.”

He reached for his backpack in the rear seat. Intent on distracting himself, he removed his camera, set it on the seat between them, and took out his science textbook.

“What are you doing?” Jackie asked, annoyed.

“Studying.”

“Now? How can you focus on that?”

Ian jutted a shoulder. He flipped the pages to the periodic table and glanced at Jackie from the corner of his eye. She gnawed on her index nail. “Are you scared?”

Jackie blew a raspberry. “No.”

Ian didn’t believe her. He looked at the book on his lap and tried to study.

Twenty minutes later and not one more element memorized than he knew, the air inside the station wagon thickened with tension. Jackie leaned forward, squinting at a large rig pulling into the truck stop, her lips moving. Ian glanced from Jackie to the truck and back and realized she was mouthing the license plate number.

The truck cruised around the lot, gears low and rumbling, and pulled into a space that gave them an unobstructed view of the rig, about thirty yards from where Jackie had parked the station wagon.

“Is that him?” Ian whispered.

“Yes,” Jackie said, reaching under the seat.

Ian shoved the textbook off his lap. It thudded on the floor. He picked up his camera, shouldered the strap, and turned it on. The camera whirred to life, the lens expanding and retracting as it set itself on autofocus, the noise loud inside the car. But it was another sound that froze Ian, chilled him to the bone. Beside him, Jackie checked the magazine chamber of a semiautomatic pistol. His dad’s gun. The one that should have been locked up inside the safety box in Stu’s desk. The one Jackie should not have known about.

“Wha—What are you doing?” Ian choked on his words.

“Fulfilling a promise.”

She slammed the magazine into the well in the handle. Sweat sheened her forehead. Her hands trembled, making the gun shake. She settled the weapon on her lap and looked coolly at Ian. Under her tough, hard-as-steel exterior, Ian saw her fear. But he also noticed her resolve. Whatever she had planned, she’d see this through. He had to stop her.

“You don’t want to use that, Jackie.”

“Yeah, I do.”

He tried another tactic. “Mom, please. You’ll get arrested.”

Movement outside caught their eye. The driver had opened his door. He lumbered down from the cab, muscles stiff from sitting for long hours. He stretched his hamstrings, then his quads. For a guy with a sedentary job, he appeared to be in good shape, his physique lean and defined. Twenty years ago, Ian bet he’d been built like his dad.

Jackie opened her door and got out of the car. She didn’t bother closing the door or hiding the gun. She marched straight toward the trucker. Whatever was going to happen would go down quickly.

Ian brought the camera to his face. He shot photos in rapid succession, the shutter clicking as fast as his heart pounded. He might not be able to talk Jackie out of her plan, but he could use the photos as evidence. Somehow, Ian would prove Sarah hadn’t brought him here tonight. It had been Jackie.

Ian leaped from the car and jogged after her. “Mom!” he shouted, giving it one last attempt. “Don’t do this. This isn’t something you want to do.”

Jackie swung a one-eighty, arm raised, and pointed the gun at Ian’s forehead.

He gasped and skidded to a stop, hands raised. A whimper escaped and a tear fell. “Please, Mom,” he whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“You can leave now. I don’t need you anymore.”

Her expression, the way she said the words—she looked and sounded like Sarah.

Ian shook his head. Tears blurred his vision. This woman was not his mother. “You told me once that whatever you did it was because you loved me. This isn’t how you’re supposed to show me that you love me. You have to stop.” Ian pointed at the trucker. “Killing that man is not what you want to do for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Sarah. Know why?”

Ian violently shook his head, his lower lip trembling. He dragged a forearm across his face to clear his vision.

---