Dylan was sitting in one of the wicker chairs when Ivan came through the curtain onto the deck. Ivan carried two cups of coffee with him. He handed Dylan one before sitting in his wicker chair. This was a relatively new club Dylan had joined.
It was like being accepted as an adult by Ivan. Once Clay got up to find Dylan drinking coffee, he looked on this morning ritual as inappropriate for his son, but once Ivan broke new ground with Dylan, Clay knew better than to try to claw the little boy in Dylan back to how it had always been.
Gradually, Clay stopped noticing his son drank coffee with his fathers. Being recognized as mature enough to drink coffee was a major concession to his maturity. For as far back as he remembered, when he reached for a cup with coffee in it across Mama’s table, invariably, she put her hand over the top of the cup to keep him from experiencing the brew that was inside.
Last summer, on the Horizon, Greek always brought Dylan a cup of coffee when he brought Clay, Bill and Logan theirs. There were no children on the Horizon. All the crew were treated the same. That was the first time Dylan drank coffee with the adults each morning. He didn’t recall Clay looking twice when he stirred sugar and cream into the cup to get the taste the way he liked it. Since he’d been staying at his fathers’ house, after Ivan had been burned, he was always awake by the time Ivan got up, and Ivan brought him coffee each morning. Clay would or wouldn’t get up before they left to do the trash. Leaving from Ivan’s house meant he didn’t need to wait until after the trash was collected to have coffee.
When he was at Mama’s table, she never served him coffee. When he poured a cup of coffee, Mama watched but didn’t comment.
On this morning, as he sipped his coffee, he looked his father over as the day dawned. The burns were less apparent each morning. They began fading on day four or five. It was a week since the plane crash and Ivan’s skin was only slightly discolored.
There had been a reporter and a photographer who came by the shop the day before. They wanted to get Ivan’s story. Ivan was in Fort Myers on business. Tag answered their questions about Ivan. They were disappointed. They’d come from Tampa to photograph the scene and talk to whoever they cornered. Tampa was too far to come back.
Ivan was delighted he’d been out when the reporters came.
Getting the campgrounds in the news was always good for business, but these guys weren’t interested in anything but the sensational story about the plane crash. The more sensational they could make it sound, the more papers they sold.
The story wasn’t about Ivan. The actual story was about a girl who survived a plane crash. It was about her father dying. Ivan regarded everything else as hype.
The less said about the incident, the better Ivan liked it. He did what needed to be done.
Ivan liked reading Time magazine, because they gave you an intelligent view of the facts in stories they reported on. A story was as sensational as the facts made it. No one had to make it more exciting than the story really was.
Time reported on the world’s news.
Newspapers were filled with nonsense embellished to the point of ridiculousness. After the facts were told, Ivan was ready to move on to the next story.
He was smart enough to form his own opinion, and no one needed to tell him what his opinion was. Ivan was too busy living life to want to read about nonsense created by folks with nothing to report but their opinion of the news.
There was no time to read Time in the morning, but the latest edition sat on the railing next to Ivan’s wicker chair. He would read it later that day, after his day was done. The idea he wouldn’t be home for dinner with the Olsons that evening, never entered his mind. After dinner, and before the light left the sky, he was almost always seated on his deck reading Time.
It’s just the way it was.
Routines were nice when you had something you enjoyed doing. Eating at Mama’s table was always one of his best routines. Mostly Clay was there for dinner. Having pleasant conversation with the people at Mama’s table was a routine he didn’t miss, especially when Congresswoman Lucy Olson was home from her battles in DC.
Even while drinking his first cup of coffee, there wasn’t enough light to read even one story before leaving to do the trash.
“We’ll leave at six,” Ivan said, sitting beside his son to drink his first coffee of that day.
The birds had begun to sing and the night sounds diminished as the daylight increased. The Gulf lay out in front of them as the emerald green of the water began to become visible. Birds flew above, circled overhead, landing on the logs a hundred yards from the mouth of the river. Birds had their own routine.
“Can we go to Montana one day, Dad?” Dylan asked, still thinking about Kodak and also Taz.
“Sure. OK by me, Kiddo, but you need to walk a thing like that by your father.”
“I’d like to see how Kodak is doing. I never felt like I knew Taz that well, but Kodak was nice to me. I’ve never seen a cattle ranch.”
“I’ve always wanted to see a cattle ranch myself. I had Texas or Oklahoma in mind, but Montana works for me,” Ivan said.
“Taz was shot while he was on the cattle ranch?” Dylan asked.
“That’s how McCoy met them. He tracked down the guy who shot Taz. Can you beat that? He spends a year in a war zone and doesn’t get a scratch. He comes home to punch cows and someone shoots him. Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed,” Ivan mused.
“Why do people do stuff like that, Dad?” Dylan asked. “Who thinks, ‘I think I’ll go out and shoot me someone today’?”
“People with too much time on their hands and not much going on in their brain. From what McCoy said, the shooter was hired to kill Taz. Taz shot up some white supremacy group that took over the courthouse where some of their buddies were on trial. They’d been rustling the general’s cows. Taz put them out of commission. He wasn’t a guy you wanted to piss off, but white supremacists hate it when someone stops them from doing crazy stuff to innocent people. The head supremacist put out a contract on Taz. The guy who shot him did it for the money, I’m sure. Nearly killed him, but Taz is tough. He wasn’t ready to die yet.”
“Paybacks are a bitch,” Dylan said.
“They certainly are. Taz was a bit quiet. From what McCoy said, he was quite the hero in Vietnam. Kodak talked about it a little to your father and me,” Ivan said. “Taz being shot was a big deal on the ranch. The white supremacists, not so much. They seem to cluster in Montana for some reason. Something to do with so few people to get in their way and the same with law enforcement,” Ivan said.
“Who was shot?” Clay asked, stepping out onto the deck.
“Kodak told dad about Taz being shot,” Dylan said.
“I’ll get you some coffee, Babe,” Ivan said, getting up to pour Clay a cup of coffee from the pot he brought upstairs and put on the hot plate.
Dylan moved one seat over and Clay sat in his wicker chair.
Ivan came back through the curtains and handed Clay his coffee.
“Did you know that Kodak was marooned on an island in the Pacific for months?” Clay asked.
“McCoy said he was in a plane crash in the Pacific,” Ivan said.
“He was going to do some photography on an island for a magazine. He was going to photograph the wildlife there. The plane had engine trouble and crashed in a lagoon. The pilot died but Kodak escaped with an injury to his shoulder. He survived there for months, and a navy ship came by to check on something the National Geographic people were interested in. There Kodak was. He could have been there for years, except the navy rescued him,” Clay said.
“A regular Robinson Crusoe,” Ivan said. “When Kodak gets away from it all, he really gets away.”
“Yes, he does. I know someone who also got lost in the Pacific region of the world. We have that in common with Kodak and Taz.”
“Don’t remind me. That’s an absence I’ve spent five years trying to forget,” Ivan said.
“Half as long as I tried to forget it, Buster,” Clay said.
Ivan was glad when Dylan redirected the conversation.
“Speaking of Kodak and Taz, can we go to Montana one day?” Dylan asked.
“We could. I could ask Harry if I can take the plane,” Clay said.
“I thought it was your plane?” Dylan said.
“It’s my plane to do what Harry asks me to do. I’ve never paid a dime on it. He says he’s taking it out of my pay. I’m taking home more now than I was before he offered to sell me the Apache. It works for him. That’s what matters, but he’d let me use it to go to Montana. Probably not any time soon. He still regrets letting me go with Bill on last summer’s research trip, and that’s the most important thing I’ve ever done.”
“It’s to make it easier for you to do the speaking engagements harry schedules for you. That’s what he had in mind when he sold you the plane. Harry doesn’t miss a trick,” Ivan said. “It saves you days of travel time. Gives you way more time to do the other things he has for you to do.”
“He’s good to us. I doubt any other senator would give us the time of day,” Dylan said.
“Your father runs his Conservancy and goes to speak in front of his committee whenever Harry wants. There’s a good reason he’s nice to us,” Ivan said. “Your father is his man in the Gulf of Mexico.” “You’re right. I think that’s what was on his mind when he sold me the plane,” Clay said. “What do I need with a plane, except to go on speaking engagements? It makes my speaking tours easier on me. Most places I go, I can fly out in the morning and be home for dinner.”
“Except if the speaking engagement is at night,” Ivan said.
“Except then,” he said. “Harry wanted to make it easier for me.”
“How far is Montana?” Dylan asked.
“Two thousand miles if we fly,” Ivan said. “Probably closer to 2500 miles if we drive it.”
“How did you know that off the top of your head?” Clay asked.
“Why 500 hundred miles further if we drive?” Dylan asked.
“I left here and hitched to Seattle. I was in Montana, because that’s the way the rides took me,” Ivan said. “Don’t remind me,” Clay said as though he didn’t want to be reminded.
“By flying out over the Gulf and turning north, you cut off hundreds of miles of driving in Florida alone. Same with roads going around major cities. The plane just flies in a straight line,” Clay said, “We’d need to stop for fuel. We could make it in ten to twelve hours.”
“Only one stop for fuel?” Dylan asked.
“Should make it there with two stops for fuel,” Clay said. “You correspond with Kodak,” Ivan said. “Ask him if we can drop by and sit a spell. Maybe take a gander at those cows. Wouldn’t mind seeing a buffalo or two. That would be worth a trip to Montana.”
“I don’t know, Handsome,” Clay said. “You’d make a good cowboy, Slim. You’d look right purdy sitting astride a horse.”
“Except for the horse part of it. That would be a deal breaker for me. I’m not all that keen on ridding around on an animal for my amusement. You drive a car, you stop for fuel and dump in a can of oil now and again. A horse requires a lot of upkeep. You got to stop for food and water. A horse needs to be brushed, and there’s all that poop they leave behind them. That’s no tiptoe through the tulips, you know. I think I’ll stick to the car,” Ivan said. “That’s more my style.”
“Taz runs the ranch. I’d like to meet the general’s wife. She sounds like a feisty sort. When their sons decided to take the ranch away from the little woman, she fought them tooth and nail. That’s why Taz and Kodak were here on vacation. They couldn’t work the ranch until the courts decided who owned it. The general had title to it and he left it to his wife,” Clay said. “He left no doubt about it, but his sons got lawyers and said the general wasn’t in his right mind. He’d never leave a ranch to a woman. How deluded was that?”
“What century were they born in?” Dylan asked.
“Exactly!” Clay said. “The courts saw right through that argument. His wife ran that ranch when the general went off to war. Her sons never raised a finger to help her.”
“Funny how people never give a damn about something, and then when they see a chance to make a lot of money, they’re suddenly worried about who runs a ranch in Montana,” Ivan said. “The general had no relationship with his sons. Never heard from them. When they decided to take on their mother, they got spanked but good. Takes a special kind of son to try to steal from his mom.”
“They left the ranch once they grew up,” Clay said.
Dylan thought he’d like to see a cattle ranch. He’d never been horseback riding, but Clay went as a boy, while living in Tulsa.
It was before his father and the Olsons moved to Florida. It was before Clay met Ivan, which was before Clay realized he lived in paradise. He didn’t realize it was paradise, until after he met Ivan.
That was long before Clay decided he wanted to study the things that came out of the Gulf of Mexico, which just happened to be about the time Dylan got himself born.
He didn’t remember Sunshine, but she was ever-present in his life. He could see her smile and feel her warmth.
Why she was taken away before he knew her was a mystery.
Dylan had everything he could want. Dwelling on his mother’s premature death seemed like a poor use of his time, but he wondered why she died so young.
Dylan was the proof Sunshine once lived. That had to be enough, because he had too much he wanted to do to spend time trying to figure out why things were the way they were. Dylan understood life wasn’t all peaches and cream. When Ivan came home, he figured Clay was having none of it. He was so angry after Ivan came back. He’d never seen his father that angry. He wanted Ivan in his life, but those two were never going to be friends.
Ivan tried really hard to get one smile out of Clay. Clay wasn’t going to smile no matter what Ivan did.
Dylan needed both of his fathers in his life. He liked Ivan, in spite of his absence.
He told them both, “I need you both. Why can’t you put the past behind you? Find a way to make the future better for all of us.”
Much to Dylan’s surprise, that’s what they did. Clay made up his mind to forget his anger with Ivan. Ivan came home wanting to make it up to Clay for leaving him for all those years. Once Clay forgave him, nothing stood in the way of them being friends again. They became better friends than they’d ever been as boys. As time passed, they were able to admit they still loved each other. They’d always loved each other. Life had gotten in their way, but they were together again, and Dylan was the cream on top.
Dylan didn’t so much care about how it was done, His life got better as soon as it was. Ivan was an unknown quantity Dylan wanted to know all about. He knew everything about Clay, and it was immediately apparent that Clay represented security and stability. Daddy-O represented the joy and adventure that came out of the unknown. Clay was a success before Ivan came home. He was an even bigger deal now. Ivan started building his Cove Enterprises and he wasn’t going anywhere.
Dylan was happy being where he was, except he wanted to go on this summer’s research trip. Bill Payne and Logan Warren would be there to teach him even more of what he needed to know, and he knew there was much more he needed to learn.
It meant it would be necessary for him to leave the cove. He didn’t think Harry would let Clay go along. He left Daddy-O the summer before. He might have to leave both his dads this year.
He learned more on last summer’s trip than he’d learned in school. He learned more about what his father did. He learned more about making movies than he knew it was possible to know. He needed to go on this summer’s research trip to finish learning his lessons. It wasn’t just about what he learned; it was about the people he met. They were unique people from different places and he didn’t need to work to get them to notice him. Dylan had gone on the Horizon with his father. No one viewed him as part of the package that included Clay. He was accepted as a contributing member of last summer’s research trip.
He’d never been accepted anywhere without conditions before.
During last summer’s research trip, Dylan stood on the ground he carved out for himself. He liked all the people he was with on the Horizon, and they liked him. They talked, laughed, sang, and held on for dear life during a blow, and they did it together.
Dylan didn’t pay much attention to many people. He found few people he had anything in common with. The only kid he’d related to and felt comfortable with was Tag, and, well, Tag was seven years older than Dylan, so, he really wasn’t a kid, but Dylan never viewed himself as a kid either.
Tag became Dylan’s friend when Clay brought him to his house to visit Tag’s mama, Twila. Twila had been there with Dylan’s mama, right after he was born. Twila kept Dylan alive for Sunshine, while she was unable to nurse her son.
That created a special bond between Dylan and Twila, and between Twila and Clay as well. When he took Dylan to Twila’s house, Tag took it upon himself to be Dylan’s protector while he was there. Dylan grew up believing Tag was his big brother. In Sunshine’s absence, Mama, Aunt Lucy, and Twila were his mothers. Ivan fit right in with Dylan’s hodgepodge idea of who his family was. He loved them all, especially his two dads.
He remembered one day while he was with Twila asking her a question about them all being his family, and he never forgot what Twila said.
“It is what it is, Baby Boy.”
These were the people who loved him and gave him a sense of himself. It was that sense that had him planning to go on the Horizon for this summer’s research trip.
*****
It was later in the week when things heated up around the cove. Harry had his meeting with the Director of the CIA. Now, he was locked in a struggle over the budget. They were on the floor of the senate until after midnight and he was back on the floor at eight on Wednesday. Wednesday was a repeat of Tuesday’s marathon.
Harry had to call Ivan Thursday. He wouldn’t call Ivan at midnight. He doubted he could reach him in the morning before he was due back on the floor. He’d try during breaks Thursday.
Harry didn’t need to worry about reaching Ivan.
By Thursday it was already too late, but no one knew that yet.
Harry was about to find out.
*****
McCoy was awake, waiting to hear the distinctive sound of the trash buggy. He slid into his shorts once he heard it. He needed to feel around for the canvas shoes he bought to walk on the beach with Mildred.
He took them off in a different spot each night.
Even waking up early didn’t help much, Ivan had already collected his trash and was on campsite 8 when McCoy crawled out of the tent carefully so as not to wake Mildred.
By the time he got himself upright, standing out in the fresh morning air, Ivan was on campsite 7 and heading for 6.
It was the beginning of a new day without being light. The sun lingered behind the trees until after nine. At six it was more gray than day, and it took some time for his eyes to adjust.
Ivan was running the trash and he was halfway up the beach when McCoy began walking toward the Shop. He walked close to the water where the footing was firmer.
He was ready for a cup of coffee.
Ivan slowed and stopped beside the trash buggy. Dylan spoke to his father. Ivan laughed before going into motion again. McCoy could hear their voices but he was too far away to hear what they said.
McCoy enjoyed the interaction between father and son. Their love for each other was apparent. The amazing part was that Dylan responded to Clay the same way. It was obvious to McCoy that his two fathers were equals in Dylan’s mind. McCoy admired them.
He walked faster to close in on the trash buggy. By that time Ivan was on site five.
That’s when he saw it without being sure what it was. Against the dim light it seemed to be coming from between the trees.
What was it?
“Fire!” McCoy yelled, and he began running.
Ivan looked at him, looked to where McCoy was looking and when he saw the smoke, he dashed for wilderness 2. McCoy was already running and Dylan was the last to see what was happening.
McCoy arrived at wilderness 2 a minute behind Ivan. The space on a wilderness site was limited by the wilderness surrounding it. He memorized it at first glance. It was four feet to the tent. The fire pit contained the remnants of a fire that were carelessly scattered across the campsite. Anything that could burn was on fire. The undergrowth between the trees was burning and catching the trees.
The smoke made it difficult to see detail, but Ivan was using a container to dip water out of the site’s cistern. First Ivan threw water on the tent, before he attended to the burning brush.
McCoy was blocking the path to keep Dylan from getting onto the campsite.
Even with smoke obscuring his sight, McCoy saw the problem right away. The detective had seen such things before. He blocked Dylan from getting onto the campsite. He made certain Dylan couldn’t see what his eyes were locked on.
In a calm voice, elbows out to deny Dylan access, he gave his order. His voice left no doubt how serious he was.
“Ivan, tell Dylan to go to the shop and dial 911. Once he does that, he needs to stay at the shop. Tell him.”
“What?” Ivan said, annoyed McCoy wasn’t helping and seemed paralyzed.
When Ivan turned to confront McCoy about his order, he saw the problem.
“Dylan, go to the shop. Dial 9-1-1. Stay at the shop.”
“But, Dad.”
“Dylan, go to the shop. Dial 9-1-1. Wait for me there,” Ivan instructed his son
“Yes, sir,” Dylan said without understanding why he shouldn’t stay to help put out the fire before the entire forest burned down.
Dylan backed away from where McCoy stood blocking the path. Why was he blocking the path? Why wasn’t McCoy helping his father put out the fire?
Why wasn’t he helping his father put out the fire?
These were the times Dylan didn’t understand adults. They didn’t think he could help put out a fire?
“Call 9-1-1.”
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m at the Cove Campground. There’s a fire on wilderness 2. It’s starting to burn the forest behind the campsite,” Dylan said.
“Who is this?”
“Dylan, Madge. The forest is, like, on fire here, Madge.”
“Where are you, Dylan?”
“At the shop. I mean, like, the fire is burning here,” Dylan said. “I’ve already got the fire trucks on the way. Do you need the sheriff, Dylan?”
“If he can help put out the fire,” Dylan said. “I see it from here.”
“Stay there. Show them where the fire is when they arrive.”
“Madge, they aren’t going to have any trouble finding the fire. It’s, like, burning out of control now. I can see it from the shop. Firemen shouldn’t have any trouble finding it. There’s lots of smoke.”