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“It’s the most rewarding thing ever,” I agreed, missing my little son horribly. Knowing he was safe, though—that was worth everything. I’d called my mother earlier and talked to Henry. He babbled in my ear about nothing in particular.
He was safe. Safe and happy.
Melanie was still in her hospital room but was being released later. The baby would stay for at least a week, perhaps more, until he’d gained a pound or two and his breathing had completely normalized.
“She wants to stay here with him,” Joe said. “I booked her a suite at the Carlton.”
“You staying with her?” I asked.
“I want to, but she insists I get back and figure out what’s going on.” He sighed. “It breaks my heart to leave them, but she’s right.”
Marj looked up then. “When are you going to give this little guy a name?”
Joe sighed again. “I don’t know. We were going to name him Brad, after Dad, but now? Knowing he might have faked his death yet again? I don’t know.”
“He’s still your dad, no matter what. He meant a lot to you. What’s wrong with naming your son after him?” I stroked the baby’s soft cheek.
“I don’t know, man. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“What does Mel think?” Marj asked.
“She thinks I need to get over myself.” Joe chuckled.
“You should listen to your wife,” Marj said.
“I usually do,” Joe said. Then, to me, “Remember our first son pact?”
“I feel bad for kids with only one dad,” I said, making the last fold on my paper airplane.
“Some kids don’t have a dad at all.” Joe added a pinstripe to the wing on his.
“Our dads are the best.” I shot the plane into the air.
Brad Steel had taught me how to make a perfect paper airplane. He’d taught me to work the land, to do an honest day’s work.
My own father had taught me how to pitch a tent, how to fish for my own food, how to shoot a gun.
“I’m going to name my first kid after your dad,” I said.
“Then I’ll name mine after yours. And mine. Thomas Bradford Steel.”
“Bradford Thomas Simpson,” I said.
Joe spit on his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
I spit, and we shook. “Deal.”
“Damn,” I said. “I’d actually forgotten about that.”
“So you don’t mind if I break it?”
“Of course not. I already have. I guess Henry should have been Bradford Thomas. Instead he’s Henry Thomas. Frankie wanted to name him after an uncle she admired. I’m going to change his middle name once all this blows over. I don’t want him bearing that bastard’s name.”
“Obviously I wasn’t going to stick to it either,” Joe said. “Not after…”
He didn’t need to finish. Not after he found out who my father actually was.
“Why not name him Bradley instead of Bradford?” Marj suggested. “Then you can call him Brad, so he’s sort of named after Dad, but he also has his own name.”
