The Sins of the Father
by Amanda Rohrssen
Chapter Thirteen
The next day Jacob found himself chatting with J. Gander in the hallways like old times. It was as if now that his friend knew of his activities, there wasn’t so much heaviness to it, because he knew he had the director’s backing. And with the director’s backing Jacob knew he would have more freedom to do things his way.
They were nearing his office, a quick stop before they both headed home for the evening. “One of these days, I’m going to pull you away from that desk. I promise!” he chided John playfully as he placed his hand on the knob. “Wait up a second and I’ll walk out with you. I just have to grab my coat.”
It took him only a few minutes of searching in the cluttered darkness to locate it.
“Hrm…wait a minute…Aha! There you are!” He snatched it off of his leather chair, rattling it slightly, and headed out without noticing the figure slouched underneath his desk.
“Hey John…about yesterday. Something’s still bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
Pushing open one of the glass double doors to step out in front of his friend, Jacob continued. “Just where did you get those photos of me?”
“They were sent to me anonymously,” J. Gander replied. “Do you have any idea who might’ve wanted to ruin your career? Maybe it was one of Mongoose’s men trying to get out of paying his share.”
“Maybe…” the agent shrugged. “Oh, forget it. See you tomorrow.”
His yellow Jaguar beeped twice, disabling its brand new car alarm system, and Jacob slid into the driver’s seat, which had been his favorite place to be ever since he’d acquired the car from SHUSH.
The drive always seemed too short, and there were many nights that Jacob found himself wishing with some guilt that he could just keep on driving. But every night he pulled into the same driveway, knowing that as soon as he stepped over the threshold, it would all make sense again.
“Honey, I’m home!” he called. Though it had been a joke from the start, Jacob found that he couldn’t stop using the ritualistic greeting for every homecoming.
“Oh good!” came Gail’s voice from the kitchen. “We’re just getting ready for dinner. Kids, set the table!”
There was a teenage scoff from the dining room. “Mom, I already did that.”
“Okay, thank you, Carrie,” Gail chirped, turning to give Jacob a quick peck on the bill.
The smell of roast chicken filled the air, and he could feel his mouth moisten with hunger.
“Hey, Dad!”
Jacob felt a sharp tug at his sleeve and turned to look down at his young son. He smiled broadly and scooped the ten-year-old up in his arms.
“Haha, Drake! Now you’re my prisoner!!” He spun around a few times, letting Drake’s legs flail out behind him as the duckling laughed gleefully. “And as punishment, you’re going to eat two spoonfuls of lima beans tonight!”
“Noooo!” Drake giggled as his father sat him down at the table. “That’s no fair! I could’ve gotten away! You just got lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, son,” Jacob smirked. “It’s all about what’s up here.” He tapped his temple pointedly. “Remember that.”
“I will, Dad. Hey, d’ya wanna see my science project after dinner?”
Gail came around the table and doled out portions of the home-cooked meal, and Jacob took the opportunity to fill his beak with mashed potatoes. When he swallowed, he glanced at Drake apologetically.
“I can’t, kiddo. I’ve got a lot of work to go over.” Jacob looked away quickly before he could see the disappointment on his son’s face.
“Did you have a good day at work, sweetie?” Gail asked after finally sitting herself down to dinner after serving everyone else.
Jacob smiled, glad for the change of subject. “Yeah…I did.”
It was the end of the week, and Jacob knew it was time to give his decision to J. Gander. Just past five o’clock he found himself trudging miserably into his disastrous office.
The plush leather chair felt uncomfortable around him, confining him behind his disorganized desk. He stood up and paced, but no amount of movement placated the turmoil indecision brought. Rarely was he unsure of anything, and it was times like these he was all too aware that the decision was a life-altering one. But he didn’t have just himself to think about, he had his family too.
Would this promotion mean more sacrifice on his part? Giving up more of the mallard he was for the sake of comfort?
His agitated stare fell on the many framed photographs he had lining his desk. The one of his wedding day showed a naïve young mallard, so wrapped up in love that he’d forgotten that with love came responsibility to the one whom that love was for. The second was taken only a year after Drake’s birth. A family portrait. Though he’d been thrilled at becoming a father, and even more overjoyed when he and Gail had been blessed with a son, the blatant truth was that the birth of their children had terrified him.
He had been determined to be a better father to them than his father had been to him and his brother, but he had had no idea what that meant, exactly. He still didn’t. He tried what he could, mimicking those happy fathers he saw in the park or on the occasional television show, but when it came to the meaningful things, the things he knew might have a lasting impact, he avoided them altogether. Not once did he raise his voice or raise a hand to either his children or Gail, but neither did he really immerse himself in spending time with them. Although he was home almost every night, he wasn’t really there. He was afraid to be. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up his kids’ lives, and the best way he knew how to avoid that was to avoid them.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good father. It was that he was a coward. He loved them where he could, mostly from a distance, and they would never know how much joy and pride they had brought to his life.
He sighed.
With this new job, he could work less at SHUSH with more pay, yet at the same time being chief agent meant being chained to a desk. It meant ordering other agents out on the field while he awaited updates from within the building. He would be a prisoner. And yet, J. Gander had said that he would have a lot more say in the way things were run. Who was to say that he couldn’t change the role of chief agent into a more involved one? Who was to say that he couldn’t go out on missions, travelling the world like he used to?
His thoughts began to carry him away as he dreamed of having his old life back, but before he could get his head too far into the clouds, reality pulled him back down.
He couldn’t go globe-trotting, he had a wife and kids. It wasn’t fair to leave Gail alone to do everything, and she had expressed such an idea when she was pregnant with Drake. Her opinion wouldn’t have changed by this time; she was as stubborn as he was. Then there was J. Gander. Would the director really go for his new outlook on the role of chief agent?
Suddenly he was right back where he started.
Heaving a sigh, he slumped back into the uncomfortable chair and moved to prop his feet up on the desk when something caught his eye. It was a wide manila folder stamped CONFIDENTIAL in red ink. Curious, he picked it up and tore it open at the top.
Inside was a single piece of paper which Jacob read over three times with increasing excitement. It was a mission letter, and at the bottom was the signature of Director John Gander Hooter. Jacob silently thanked his old friend. This was exactly what he needed. A chance to get out of the office and rekindle his drive, his ambition, his hunger for life. A mission would help him prove not only to J. Gander and the rest of SHUSH, but to himself, that he was still a capable and ingenious agent with the sharp wit and skills it took to be a top agent. This was the key to assuming the role of chief agent in a way befitting him. And there would be no way anyone could dispute his tactics or his leadership without being frowned upon by the organization. It was perfect! Jacob had never been more pleased to have John as a friend, and he couldn’t wait to tell Gail the good news.
In the next instant he was on his way home with a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there in nearly a decade. What he didn’t know was that night would be the last time he would see his wife and children. The letter he’d received hadn’t been left by J. Gander at all, but by an assassin hell-bent on destroying the life Jacob had. And while the SHUSH legacy Jacob would leave behind would be every bit as awe-inspiring and filled with tall tales as he would have hoped, the damage wrought upon those closest to him by his disappearance was beyond compare. He had striven to be a decent man, but those efforts had returned to him altogether unforeseen consequences. Though he’d been afraid of it, engaging with his children would have been far less destructive than his total absence would ever be.
It was a lesson learned too late for the late Jacob Mallard.