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He spoke without rancor, his tone matter-of-fact. She wondered what all he’d seen in his seventeen years with a woman who’d never wanted him and certainly hadn’t loved him. She considered it a small miracle that Jake had grown up relatively unscathed.
“Did someone help you?” she asked. “After you left home? Seventeen is awfully young for a kid to be on his own. Did you even have any money?”
“Actually, I did. Micheline had me homeschooled, so I didn’t have any friends my own age. I started working at Burger Barn when I was sixteen. Micheline didn’t know. By then, she was already busy starting up her foundation.” He grimaced. “The people I worked with—other teens mostly—were my first real friends. Despite the temptation to party with them, I saved every penny I made. Because I already had a plan. I also managed to keep it hidden from Micheline. If she’d found it, she wouldn’t have had any qualms about taking every cent.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Fiona remarked.
“Yeah. And I did have help. I used some of my money to buy an old motorcycle. I headed north, figuring I’d keep going until I found a place that felt right.”
He went quiet for a moment, clearly lost in his thoughts. “I was driving through this small ranching town when I saw someone toss a kitten from a car window. I pulled over, and the little thing was still alive, though injured. I picked it up and drove to the veterinary clinic I’d just passed.” He shook his head. “They were amazing. The vet, an older man named John Letcalf, rushed the kitten into emergency surgery to repair a broken jaw. They let me hang out in the waiting room and gave me a drink and some chips. I think they knew...”
Watching him, her heart swelled. He’d been through so much.
After a moment, he continued. “In the end, Dr. Letcalf fixed the kitten and promised to find it a home. And he offered me a job and a place to stay.” His voice had gone rough. “If not for him and his wife, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”
Fascinated, she nodded. “So you worked at the vet clinic?”
“No. Actually, he and his wife lived on a ranch. He hired me on as a ranch hand. It was a big enough place that the hands had their own bunkhouse. I learned everything I know today about cattle ranching from that job. Believe me, it wasn’t anything near as fancy as the Coltons’ operation, but was a profitable, working cattle ranch.”
“Is that the same one you own now?” she asked.
“No. Dr. Letcalf’s wife got dementia. He retired, sold the veterinary clinic to two of his partners. His son took over the ranch. He let me stay on, but I knew it would be only temporary. When one of the neighboring ranches went up for sale, I bought it. It’s much smaller—only a couple hundred acres—but works for me.”
“I’m impressed.” She smiled at him. “Let me guess. You saved up every penny you made working for Dr. Letcalf.”
He nodded. “You would be correct. I wasn’t able to pay cash for the place, but I had more than enough for a hefty down payment. Still, Dr. Letcalf had to cosign for me. I had no credit history at all.”
Unable to resist, she reached over and touched his arm. “Still, you overcame tremendous odds and made something of yourself.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at her, making her wish it wasn’t too dark to read his expression. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“I grew up in Phoenix. My father was a police officer and my mother a teacher. I was an only child. I had a basic, boring, wholesome childhood.” She swallowed hard. “It was great, actually. Until the day my dad was killed by a drunk driver. Life changed in an instant.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She nodded. “Thanks. After that happened, I focused my entire life’s purpose on becoming a cop. When I got to college, I took criminal justice classes. The FBI recruited me right after graduation, and here I am.”
“That’s impressive, too,” he told her.
“Maybe. I always wished my dad were alive to see what I’ve done with my life.”
“I’m sure he knows. What about your mother?”
“Oh, she’s proud, though she can’t really relate. She retired from teaching and keeps busy with a bunch of volunteer work. She still lives in the same house I grew up in, though she’s remarried.”
They turned down the long drive leading to the AAG Center.
“I wonder how she came up with this idea,” Fiona mused of the AAG. “Even her catchphrase is kind of general, as if she couldn’t think of anything better.”
“She was working toward something like this even when I was a young child,” Jake said. “Because she truthfully believes everyone else is an idiot, she always used short, catchy sound bites.” He shrugged. “It seems to have worked out for her.”
“Yeah.” Fiona shuddered. “But try sitting through seminar after seminar, hearing Be Your Best You over and over. Now, whenever someone says it, I fight the urge to be sick.”
He laughed. “Well, we’re here. You’d better get ready to put your game face on.”
“I’m ready,” she said, though she was reluctant to get out of the car. “What about you? Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Slowly, he nodded. “I like that you’re giving me the option of saying no. But I really want to help, even if every time I have to be nice to that woman, I want to vomit. It helps to know you can relate.”
