Me & Jack by Danette Haworth

“Dad—what’s wrong?”
    Millie rose and patted his back.
    â€œI talked with Stan Kowalski today. He got a visit from an NCO and the army chaplain—”
    â€œNo!” Millie clutched her arms to her chest.
    Dad lifted his head and stared into space. “David was killed in action. They’ll be flying his body back.”
    â€œOh, dear Lord.” Millie’s hands flapped in the air. “Poor Jan. Oh, my gosh …” Tears rolled down her face. She pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and wiped her cheeks.
    The muscles in Dad’s jaw flexed. His eyebrows pressed down and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I drove over to their house.” He looked up at Millie. It seemed as though he were pleading or searching. “They lost their son …”
    Bewilderment filled his eyes. I was younger when Mom died; I knew only how sad I was. Now seeing the grief on Dad’s face, I didn’t know what to do. Someone died. He wasn’t related to us, but he was connected somehow. He was connected through death.
    Millie reached out and hugged Dad, and he let her.
    Jack laid his head over my feet. I couldn’t believe that guy— David —I couldn’t believe David had died. I didn’t have to wonder what his family was doing right now; I knew firsthand. This can’t be real , they were saying to each other. I just sent him a card the other day , or, I thought he was coming home. They said he would come home. Yeah, I knew exactly what they were saying.
    After a few moments, Millie broke off, poured a cup of coffee, and set it on the table for Dad. “I’ve got to call Jan, okay?”
    We stared at the table, listening to Millie sob into the phone.
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” Dad said, already climbing out of his chair, unbuttoning his shirt.
    Jack stirred at the movement. “Where to?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know.” He wrested his air force shirt off. “But let’s go.”

chapter 17
    W e sat on the beach at Harveys Lake, sand crunching into our shorts because we didn’t have a blanket or even towels. When we headed out, Dad just wanted to drive; we didn’t know where we’d end up. At least he’d thought to change out of his air force clothes.
    Jack lifted his nose in the air, sniffing different gusts. The fishy odor of the lake, the buttery popcorn scent from the concession stand, and the whiff of hot dogs breezed over us—a smorgasbord that smelled like summer.
    Towels carpeted the beach. Brightly colored umbrellas looked like happy mushrooms sticking out of the sand. So many people laughing, playing, splashing in the water. Jack yanked at the leash. No sitting around for him.
    â€œYou want to go for a walk?” I asked.
    He barked and jumped in answer.
    â€œDad?”
    â€œYep.” He pushed himself up and dusted off his shorts. He always looked younger out of his uniform, especially in shorts and a T-shirt. Sometimes people thought he was my bachelor uncle instead of my dad.
    As we walked, I kept Jack close by. We stuck to the loose, white sand, away from the actual shoreline so as not to bother people. Jack zigzagged on the leash like a divining rod—nothing was getting by him. He’d smell every smell on this beach before we left. I grinned, but when I looked up at Dad, I saw he was lost in thought.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?” I bet I knew.
    He shrugged.
    We passed a huge building with white letters on the roof: SANDY BEACH. Good thing they spelled it out for me—I never would’ve known. Jack snarfed up the ketchupy leftover of someone’s hamburger without even stopping. His ears were erect, his step bouncy.
    Dad sighed as we passed under the shade of the building. “I’ll be going to the funeral.”
    I’d been to only one funeral, and I always tried not to think of it. Not to think of all the other ladies crying, not to think of the