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Authors: Marian L. Thomas
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you are starting to sound like a real journalist."
Jake could have been upset at that but, for some reason, he wasn't. He understood what she meant by it.
He was finally starting to ask the right questions.
Chapter 8
"He stared at the window; he could hear the rain that was coming. He hated being old. He hated being able to barely breathe, and he hated that he was dying and still had not resolved all his life's shattering issues."
Life’s Shattering Issues
A s JK's alarm clock went off, his phone also began to ring. The noise from both of them caused him to sit straight up in his bed. He was too old for such excitement at the same time. He stared at the phone as if that would cause it to suddenly stop ringing.
To his surprise, it worked.
Looking out the window; he could hear the rain that was coming. He hated being old. He hated barely being able to breathe, and he hated that he was dying and still had not resolved all his life's shattering issues.
For over a month now, he had been trying to get up the nerve to go and see his daughter. The only one he should have ever been able to call his daughter.
JK grabbed his heart.
So much pain he had caused not just to her, to Naya, but even to himself.
His thoughts traveled to Jonathan and Simone. A sigh of relief swept over him as he remembered that they were really his grandchildren. And yet, even knowing that didn't hide the horror of what he had done and been responsible for.
He longed to see one of them and hated to see the other.
How sad my life has become
.
I know I deserve it, every bit of it, but still, I don't want to die knowing that no one in this world cares one lick about me.
JK felt something he hadn't felt in—well, years. Tears began falling down the side of his face. He didn't try to wipe them away.
Old men don't cry. Do they?
He thought about this question as he finally found the strength to pull back the covers and climb out of bed.
As he grabbed his cane he thought about Chris. He sat back down upon his bed. He had wanted to go and see him, but he knew Naya wouldn't have it. They hadn't spoken or seen each other since the night she found out that he was still alive.
I should never have listened to Chris, faked my death and lied to her for five years. But what could I do? I needed the money and a place to stay. Still, it cost me too much. If it hadn't of been for that guitar I gave her that night, I might have never seen her smile. What a mess this whole family is in!
Whose fault is it?
JK slowly raised his own hand. He watched as his cane hit the floor.
Man!
Just as he reached to pick it up, the phone began to ring again.
"Hello." He said in a rather frustrated voice.
"Is this Jonathan Kenneth Creek?"
"Yes, who is this?"
He didn't recognize the woman's voice.
"This is Felicia, Jonathan's wife."
JK let out a cough and grabbed his shirt. A sudden wave of fear took over him. He had met her only through the photographs delivered by a private investigator. He had never actually looked into the eyes of the woman who could put up with his grandson, Jonathan.
"I need to speak with you."
"Go ahead, I'm an old man. I wasn't going anywhere but to the bathroom."
"It's about Chris."
JK started to cough harder. He placed the phone on the bed and tried to catch his breath. He could hear her calling his name.
It took a few minutes but he finally placed the receiver back up to his ear.
"I'm here."
"I'm outside your gate. Can you let me in?"
JK's hands started to shake uncontrollably.
"Sure. Give me a few minutes to get to the thing and press the button."
Seconds later she was standing in his foyer, staring him up and down.
"Wow, you really are white," Felicia stated as she watched JK lean heavily upon his cane.
"Why thank you," he said very sarcastically.
They are all related, that's for sure
. She tried to smile.
JK stared at a pregnant Felicia. Her hair was cut short. Her skin was a silky brown. She had dark brown eyes with
Jake could have been upset at that but, for some reason, he wasn't. He understood what she meant by it.
He was finally starting to ask the right questions.
Chapter 8
"He stared at the window; he could hear the rain that was coming. He hated being old. He hated being able to barely breathe, and he hated that he was dying and still had not resolved all his life's shattering issues."
Life’s Shattering Issues
A s JK's alarm clock went off, his phone also began to ring. The noise from both of them caused him to sit straight up in his bed. He was too old for such excitement at the same time. He stared at the phone as if that would cause it to suddenly stop ringing.
To his surprise, it worked.
Looking out the window; he could hear the rain that was coming. He hated being old. He hated barely being able to breathe, and he hated that he was dying and still had not resolved all his life's shattering issues.
For over a month now, he had been trying to get up the nerve to go and see his daughter. The only one he should have ever been able to call his daughter.
JK grabbed his heart.
So much pain he had caused not just to her, to Naya, but even to himself.
His thoughts traveled to Jonathan and Simone. A sigh of relief swept over him as he remembered that they were really his grandchildren. And yet, even knowing that didn't hide the horror of what he had done and been responsible for.
He longed to see one of them and hated to see the other.
How sad my life has become
.
I know I deserve it, every bit of it, but still, I don't want to die knowing that no one in this world cares one lick about me.
JK felt something he hadn't felt in—well, years. Tears began falling down the side of his face. He didn't try to wipe them away.
Old men don't cry. Do they?
He thought about this question as he finally found the strength to pull back the covers and climb out of bed.
As he grabbed his cane he thought about Chris. He sat back down upon his bed. He had wanted to go and see him, but he knew Naya wouldn't have it. They hadn't spoken or seen each other since the night she found out that he was still alive.
I should never have listened to Chris, faked my death and lied to her for five years. But what could I do? I needed the money and a place to stay. Still, it cost me too much. If it hadn't of been for that guitar I gave her that night, I might have never seen her smile. What a mess this whole family is in!
Whose fault is it?
JK slowly raised his own hand. He watched as his cane hit the floor.
Man!
Just as he reached to pick it up, the phone began to ring again.
"Hello." He said in a rather frustrated voice.
"Is this Jonathan Kenneth Creek?"
"Yes, who is this?"
He didn't recognize the woman's voice.
"This is Felicia, Jonathan's wife."
JK let out a cough and grabbed his shirt. A sudden wave of fear took over him. He had met her only through the photographs delivered by a private investigator. He had never actually looked into the eyes of the woman who could put up with his grandson, Jonathan.
"I need to speak with you."
"Go ahead, I'm an old man. I wasn't going anywhere but to the bathroom."
"It's about Chris."
JK started to cough harder. He placed the phone on the bed and tried to catch his breath. He could hear her calling his name.
It took a few minutes but he finally placed the receiver back up to his ear.
"I'm here."
"I'm outside your gate. Can you let me in?"
JK's hands started to shake uncontrollably.
"Sure. Give me a few minutes to get to the thing and press the button."
Seconds later she was standing in his foyer, staring him up and down.
"Wow, you really are white," Felicia stated as she watched JK lean heavily upon his cane.
"Why thank you," he said very sarcastically.
They are all related, that's for sure
. She tried to smile.
JK stared at a pregnant Felicia. Her hair was cut short. Her skin was a silky brown. She had dark brown eyes with
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