Page 60 of The Uncomplicated Café
JAYCE
Jayce stoodon the edge of his mother’s lawn, momentarily mesmerized by the serene setting. In the pleasant dim of twilight, his parents’ homes appeared tranquil, as if the occupants weren’t waging an eternal war. He’d never noticed how both of his parents’ porch swings hung in opposite directions, facing each other. Did the decision reflect their inner desire to remain connected somehow? He certainly hoped so.
He tread quietly across the soft grass. The gentle hum of the ocean just beyond the sleepy street muffled his footsteps. As he moved in relative silence, his thoughts drifted to CeCe. Once again, he prayed over her conversation with her father, hoping for the best.Let tonight be a night of reconciliation,he internally pleaded, thinking of more than one relationship in desperate need of repair.
He stopped beside the lemon tree, his heart beating wildly, anxiously anticipating his next move. Was he doing the right thing? He wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t shake Mr. Dupree’s words from earlier that morning—words that had reshaped a long-held perception of his parents’ feud.
Jayce could still see the stark sadness in Mr. Dupree’s eyes when he’d offered to fly him home in his private jet.
Mr. Dupree—or Paul, as he’d asked to be called—had dropped his gaze, staring blankly into his steaming mug of Peruvian coffee. “I don’t think CeCe wants to see me.”
“What?” Jayce had balked, asking, “What makes you say that? She may be angry with you, but—” Before he’d had a chance to finish his sentence, Paul’s head jerked up in surprise.
“She’s angry with me?” The man’s voice had carried an unexpected twinge of hopefulness.
“A little, yeah,” Jayce had confessed, confused by Paul’s reaction but also guilt-ridden he’d accidentally betrayed CeCe’s confidence. It was her place to tell her father how she felt, not his. “But forget I said anything. And don’t let it discourage you.” The last thing he wanted was his blunder to deter Paul from coming home.
“Discourage me?” Grinning, Paul had removed his thin wire-framed glasses and wiped the coffee steam from the lenses with his frayed bandana. “My boy, you’ve given me phenomenal news.”
“I have?” Jayce had suddenly wondered if all those hours trapped underground had affected the man’s mental faculties. “How is CeCe being angry with you a good thing?”
Paul had looked at him with borderline pity, as if he’d been the one missing brain cells. “Because, dear boy, indifference is the road to death. But anger—ah, anger!” His voice rose an octave with unusual gusto. “Anger is a strong emotion. It means something matters, that there’s hope.” His eyes had danced with the delight of an archeologist who’d just discovered the Holy Grail.
Jayce had dwelled on Paul’s words for the duration of their travels home, mulling over the implications in his own life. Could the man’s philosophy be true? Did his parents’ perpetual hostility and inability to move on mean they still had feelings for each other?
There was one way to find out….
Jayce pulled the ripcord on the chain saw he’d borrowed from Evan. It revved to life, disturbing the evening’s tranquility.
Widening his stance, he drew in a deep breath, braced for the impending showdown.
The loud rumble lured his intended targets.
“What’s going on out here?” his father asked with gruff annoyance. Jayce suspected he’d roused him from the TV.
“Jayce?” His mother gawked, her bewildered gaze darting between the whirring chain saw and her beloved lemon tree. “What are you doing?”
For a split second, Jayce hesitated. His parents stood on their respective porches, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Had he? Was his experiment too wild to actually work? Or would the lemon tree—which he’d long suspected to hold deeper meaning—serve as the impetus to get them talking again?
Angling the saw’s spinning chain toward the sturdy trunk, he decided to put his theory to the test.
“Stop!” his mother shrieked. Horrified, she covered her mouth with both hands.
“Son, what are you doing?” his father demanded sharply, striding across the porch, poised to intervene.
“I’m tired of you two bickering over who rightfully owns this blasted tree,” Jayce told them. “Either you sort it out, once and for all, or I chop it down.”
His parents shared a quick glance of concern before his father narrowed his gaze in Jayce’s direction. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. It’s for your own good.” He suppressed a rueful grin at the irony of the situation. How many times had his father used the same line on him during his childhood?Jayce, this timeout is for your own good. Jayce, we’re revoking your video game privileges for your own good.Now, he finally understood.
His parents exchanged another glance, silently debating how to handle their renegade son.
Finally, his father turned to him. “Put the chain saw down.”
“Can you two agree on the rightful owner? Or is itarrivedercilemon tree?”
“The tree belongs to your mother. I’ll stop pruning it to favor my yard.”
