Fancy Dancer Read Online Free Page B

would have taken off like a bat out of hell, but he saw the yellow butterfly settle itself in the middle of his windshield. He stared at it, then across to the space where the black marble angel hovered over the babe in the cradle. He sucked in his breath and whispered, hoping the butterfly heard him, “Okay.”
    A second later, the delicate little creature was airborne and out of his line of vision. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the beautiful little creature flew back to perch on the angel’s wing.
    Jake leaned out of the car window and said, “That was just so rude of me. Whatever was I thinking? I don’t know what got in to me, Dad . What that means is, don’t call me, I’ll call you.” And he would, because at the age of thirty-five, the new Jake St. Cloud was a man of his word.

Chapter 2
    J ake turned off the highway and into a St. Cloud gas station. He pulled to the side and just sat there. Did I just deck my father? He looked down at his throbbing hand—all the proof he needed that he’d done just that. What the hell was I thinking? What was it? Thirty-five years of pent-up rage?
    Was it because of the way his father had treated his mother, and this was payback for his betrayals? Or was it all the father-son things he’d wanted that had never happened during his growing-up years? Maybe it was that he’d been forced to work at the drilling sites during the summer and all vacation days? And to think that, somewhere in the back of his mind, at one time he’d wanted to grow up to be just like his father. What a crock.
    Jake massaged his throbbing hand. He felt ashamed at what he’d done. But at the moment he’d let his clenched fist fly, the man he was aiming at wasn’t his father. He was a man who had betrayed his wife. A man who couldn’t be bothered to be at her side when she died. A father who was never there for his son. A sperm donor. He’d let his seventeen-year-old son make all the funeral arrangements. It still boggled Jake’s mind that he’d even shown up at the service for his wife. The son of a bitch had even managed to squeeze out a tear. And then he was gone, leaving Jake standing alone, with only Estes and Elroy Symon to provide comfort.
    Jake took great gulping breaths as he struggled to gain control of his emotions. Everything else aside, now he finally had the name of his half brother and his address. That alone was worth whatever consequences there were from the confrontation with his father.
    The address was burned into his brain. He typed it into his GPS, headed for the gas pump, and filled the Porsche.
    Twenty-three minutes later, the robotic voice on the GPS told him that he was eighteen feet from his destination. Jake drove around the block twice, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood. He decided it was a great place to raise kids. There were sidewalks; humongous trees shaded the front lawns and the sidewalks as well. Old-fashioned lampposts were on every corner. All the houses were well maintained, the lawns mowed, and the flower beds just perfect. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Mika worked the neighborhood on his off-hours. The house itself was a ranch with diamond-paned windows. The front door was a cheery yellow that matched the yellow cushions on the two chairs on the small front porch. He could see pots of late-summer flowers lining the walkway to the front door. The house itself was painted white and had dark hunter-green shutters and trim. The white paint sparkled in the bright sunlight. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the house looked freshly painted.
    Here goes nothing , Jake thought as he climbed out of the car that he had parked on the street in front of the house. He walked to the door and was not the least bit surprised to see that there were no weeds in the lawn. He wondered if anyone would be home at that hour of the day. Surely, the mother and son worked.
    That’s when he noticed the Mustang convertible sitting in the driveway.