Take a Chance on Me(56)

Jensen’s mouth opened a bit.

“The first time I met you, you were doing a backflip off the dock. As I remember, it was May, the lake too cold to swim in, but you—and Darek—were showing off for the girls.”

“I never—”

“Please.” He moved his piece, blocking Jensen’s next jump. “All you and Darek did all summer was flex and show off your tans to Claire and Felicity. Even when you weren’t driving your father’s speedboat around the lake, you seemed to be hanging around. But while Darek was always trying to find the next great adventure, you were the one who made sure the girls got home safely. You always had a smile for Nelda and me. And don’t tell me you weren’t the one who came over early and stacked my shipments of wood. I’m not stupid.”

Jensen moved a piece across the board, affecting some semblance of strategy.

“It’s nice to have you back, is all. I’m just wondering if my granddaughter has anything to do with that.”

Jensen looked up, tried a smile. “Nah. You saw her last time I was here.” He wasn’t sure Claire had mentioned her household improvements to her grandfather. “Besides, I never left, Gibs.”

Gibs moved his piece forward, a strategy that made no sense to Jensen. “Sure you did.”

“I’ve been living in the same place, my father’s house, for three years. You know that.” He moved his piece closer, attacking.

“Just because you’ve been living there doesn’t mean you didn’t disappear.” Gibs moved his piece back, away from Jensen’s. “The day you walked out of that courthouse, bound to Deep Haven, you vanished. The Jensen I knew simply died. And this strange boy who walked with his face to the ground took his place.”

Jensen studied the board. “What was I supposed to do? I had to live here. But I didn’t have to like it. You can’t imagine how terrible it is to walk around with a target on your back, people talking about you, accusing you of something you didn’t do.” He moved his piece.

Gibs moved his king across the board, flanking Jensen’s position, should he jump Gibs’s piece. “I know exactly how you felt, son. I’m a Vietnam vet. I came home to a country that hated me, accused me of killing children, of burning villages. They threw blood and paint on me, and they refused to serve me at the VFW. I was a pariah in this country, even this town. I knew I hadn’t done what they accused me of, but it didn’t matter. They believed what they wanted. Your move.”

But Jensen couldn’t move. He stared at Gibs. “I’m sorry.”

“Once people form an opinion, it’s very hard to change it, and the frustration of that went inside, became a battle I faced every day. For a while there, I let it eat at me. I turned to drink, made a nuisance out of myself. I still can’t believe Nelda hung on to me. Booted me out of her bed but not the house. I thank God for that. And then one night, I came home, buttered. Took a smoke on the sofa and fell asleep. My son, Ricky, woke me up, yelling—he was about eight at the time. Scared the tar out of me, but the rug was on fire. Nelda and I carried it outside, beat out the flames on the sofa, and then she lit into me.”

He met Jensen’s eyes. “I nearly lost them both that night because I was angry at how I was treated. My Nelda cleared through the fog in my head when she told me that I might not have killed any babies in Vietnam, but I was still a sinner back here in Deep Haven.”

Jensen frowned.

“She pulled her Bible off the shelf and shoved it at me. I’ll never forget her words. ‘No one is righteous, not even one. So stop acting all wounded and realize that you’re a mess, Jack Marshall Gibson’—scared me half to death when she used my full name. ‘The good news is that God still loves you. And so do I.’”

He made a face. “That’s when she finally threw me out of the house and barred the door.”

“Ouch.”

“I went straight to my little church there on Third and Third, got down at the altar, and wept. See, she was right. I was angry at how I’d been treated, calling it unjust. But it didn’t matter what they accused me of; I was still a sinner. I wasn’t guilty of war crimes, but I’d done plenty to be ashamed of. The truth is, if we had to walk around with our sins taped to our backs . . . well, we’d all be finding ways to hide in the woods, huh, Jensen?”

Jensen stared at him, not sure who he might be talking about. Just once he’d like the town of Deep Haven to take a good look at Darek and his part in the nightmare that destroyed so many lives.