“Thank you,” she said. “How cool that my grandfather’s name is attached to something like that.” She looked at the cover. “Cute fish.”
Seamus beamed and exchanged a look with Eli, who didn’t say a word. He’d learned long ago not to step in when the Holy Spirit was at work.
On the way home, he told Emma about the Abundant Catch ministry that helped underprivileged kids in the Panhandle, and she shared her favorite memories of fishing with Artie in the Finger Lakes near their house.
“But he never let me drive the boat,” she finished, giving him a playful elbow jab. “So, thanks for that.”
As they crossed Gulf Shore to the house, Jonah’s Honda rumbled into the driveway and came to a sudden stop behind Eli’s truck.
“Wow, he worked late,” Eli murmured as he walked toward the driver’s side.
“Thanks for the boat ride, Eli,” Emma said, holding up the Bible. “I’m going to run this up to my room.”
“Thanks for being a great boater—and listener,” he said with a smile.
She disappeared into the house. Jonah climbed out of his car looking like a man who’d been through a war and lost. His hair was pushed in every direction, his back hunched like he’d run out of gas.
“How’s Atlas?” Jonah asked without any greeting.
“Atlas is great. His cold’s almost gone—barely any congestion today. He ate well, napped twice, and charmed every woman in this house, which is quite a few.”
Jonah closed his eyes for a second, exhaling. “Good. That’s good.”
“How was school?”
He ran his hand through his hair, reminding Eli very much of himself under stress. “Lab ran long, and I couldn’t leave because Broussard wanted to…” He huffed a breath. “I have this opportunity and it’s amazing, but…it requires time and I sure don’t have a lot of that.”
“What is it, son?”
“A stellar—and paid—internship at Driftwood, with a top chef.”
Eli drew back, familiar with the high-end restaurant. “That’s wonderful, Jonah.”
“You have no idea. Full credit, on the line by week three, and if Isobel Vega likes me, it could lead to a real, legit job.” He paused. “Chef Broussard gave her one name out of twenty-two students. Mine.”
The pride that swelled in Eli’s chest was immediate and fierce. His son—who had spent years lost and drifting, who had lived in a van and dodged his potential and nearly broken Eli’s heart with his refusal to become anything—had been singled outby a chef he respected for an opportunity that could change his career.
“Jonah. That’s incredible.”
“It’s incredible on paper and I’ve been trying for a week to figure out a way to do it.”
“You will,” Eli said, certain of it. “Why didn’t you mention this?”
“Because it’s Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, five to close. And Saturday service when needed, which could be every week. All on top of my lecture schedule.” He looked at the house, shoulders slumped. “On top of Atlas.”
“Busy, yes, but you can do it.”
“I wanted to work out the childcare piece first, but I can’t because there is no answer. I simply cannot impose on anyone to watch Atlas that much.” He shook his head. “It’s not right or fair or smart or kind, even though every person in this house wants to help. I just…can’t.”
Eli nodded, knowing the dilemma was real, but solvable.
“I thought about taking him with me to school tomorrow,” Jonah said. “It’s a light day, no lab. I can keep him in the harness or the stroller.”
Whoa, that was a terrible idea, but Eli didn’t say that. “Have you thought about hiring someone?”
“It’s too expensive,” he said.
“That’s a solvable problem.”
