ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE (5 page)

Jackson was restless. He had to get out and do
something—anything: take a drive, go to the beach, whatever. Weekends went by
too fast. Of course, if he’d get up earlier and didn’t stay up half the night,
maybe he’d have time for other stuff. Problem was, he liked staying up late and
getting up even later. He shrugged. Sooner or later he’d figure it out. Maybe a
drive to Clearwater Beach would help.

That email from Mom had upset him. He’d known Dad
had health problems and that it was related to his drinking, but he never
thought it would become life-threatening. Mom probably hadn’t intended to
reveal the true extent of his condition; she’d more than likely gotten carried
away writing and the truth slipped out. The way it sounded, Dad was going to
die; it was only a question of when.

Jackson didn’t know what to do or if there was
anything he could do. Should he quit his job and return home? Offer to give his
father a portion of his liver? Was that even possible? He knew he only had the
one liver, so it wasn’t like a kidney, where a person had two.

Then there was the question of expense. Since his
father had seldom been able to hold a job for more than a few months at a time,
he doubted he had medical insurance. Even if Jackson was a match and donated a
portion of his liver, how would they pay for it?

Dad had had a drinking problem for as long as he
could remember. When he was little, he remembered his father coming home from
work drunk. He’d literally drink his paycheck, leaving little or nothing for
the family. Thankfully, he wasn’t a mean drunk, so at least they were spared
that. 

Jackson inhaled. It seemed like he’d been worried
about either his dad or his brother his whole life. Now he was living his
dream—and feeling guilty for leaving his mom to deal with the situation. What
should he do?

Clearwater Beach was calling. Grabbing his car
keys, he headed out the door.

****

Traffic across Courtney Campbell Causeway and
over to the Gulf was fairly light for a change, no doubt due to the lateness of
the hour and the cool temperatures. As a result, Jackson didn’t have to spend
time driving around in search of parking. While he would have preferred that it
was a few degrees warmer, he’d take what he could get and be grateful for it.

His beach towel and a bottle of water in hand,
Jackson locked the car and headed toward Pier 60, a popular spot known for live
music, spectacular sunsets over the Gulf and, yes, action—if you managed to get
lucky, which he seldom ever did.

Removing his shoes to let sand flow through his
toes, he marveled again at the beauty of the Gulf of Mexico and the blindingly
white sand. More accustomed to cornfields and the rolling hills of Iowa,
Jackson didn’t think he’d ever get used to it even if he stayed in Florida the
rest of his life.

He spread his towel, turned his face into the sun
and took a deep breath as cool air riffled his thick hair. His eyes wandered
across the beach to the water which sparkled as it reflected the sun and lapped
the shore. Silhouettes of sailboats in the distance added to the charm of the
scene.

Jackson had just started to relax, when he saw
them up on the pier, leaning over the rail. The man pointed, his arm on her
shoulder guiding her to whatever it was he wanted her to see below. It was most
likely a porpoise or dolphin as they often were seen in these waters. But it
wasn’t the creature in the water that caught his attention—it was the woman.
Was
that Izzie?

He squinted, then stood to get a closer look. It
was
her. He could tell by the distinctive hair style, the way she stood with one
hip thrust out, her head tilted just so as if she was posing for a picture. It
had to be her. She stood like that all the time. And Jackson always noticed.

He took several steps forward to get a better
look.
Was that the guy from the balcony?
He couldn’t be sure, but
desperately hoped it wasn’t. What should he do? Go over there and pretend he’d
been hanging out and came upon them by accident?

Izzie’s angry words came back in a sickening
rush.
I don’t need your so-called concern or your protection either for that
matter. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.
Even his mom had told
him to let it alone.

Suddenly the beach lost its appeal. He decided to
go home by way of the Sunshine Bridge. Maybe that would lift his spirits. It
usually did.

The first time Jackson saw it, he and Izzie were
covering a suicide. Some
mook
had climbed over the
side and jumped sixty feet into Tampa Bay. He remembered how emotional Izzie
had become. The jumper couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Izzie told him
later that a few years ago, her brother killed himself at about the same age.
In his case it was an overdose of sleeping pills, but the tragic outcome was
the same.

He shook his head. The drive was meant to make
him forget about the damned woman—and he meant to do precisely that. He looked
down at the rippling waves glinting like diamonds in the afternoon sun. As many
times as he’d gone across the four- mile span, it never failed to ignite a
thrill inside.

Being new to the area, he’d done some research
and learned the design was inspired by the
Brotonne
Bridge in France. The Travel Channel ranked the Sunshine Bridge as one of the
top bridges in the world. Wow, now that was something worth bragging about.

However, it’d take a whole lot more than the
view—spectacular though it was—to dispel his concern for Izzie’s reckless
behavior. His father’s deteriorating health only added to his discomfort.

Heading back to his apartment, the double helping
of worry wormed its way into Taylor’s psyche destroying the modicum of peace
he’d managed to achieve. He had decisions to make, very serious ones. But it
was Sunday night and there was nothing he could do, at least for now.

Monday morning came all too soon. Jackson had
spent a restless night worrying about his father. When he finally managed to
nod off, his dreams became nightmares with Izzie alternately insisting he mind
his own business and screaming for help. He’d awakened with blankets in a
tangle around his legs as he shivered in the cool morning air.

Spending the day with Izzie at his side was not
something he looked forward to, especially after having had so little sleep. He
yawned and rubbed his eyes. Although he hadn’t had more than a few beers the
previous evening, Jackson’s head throbbed. He briefly considered calling in
sick, but thought better of it. A few aspirins and some breakfast—his stomach
lurched at the thought of food. Maybe just aspirin and some black coffee…

****

It was noon and Jackson felt better. His headache
was gone and his stomach had settled down to the point that he was starving.

“
Wanna
grab some
lunch?”

They’d just finished covering a story in Ybor
City where a tourist had been robbed. A unique area not far from downtown
Tampa, it once was the epicenter of cigar manufacturing in the U.S. Now home to
specialty shops boasting “only-in-Tampa” wares, it was a favorite stop for
tourists and natives alike. But unsavory types also roamed the area—at least
they had today. Fortunately the only thing this particular woman lost was her
purse. While inconvenient, it could easily be replaced.

Izzie was unusually quiet for a change and that
suited Jackson. He not only hadn’t been feeling well, but his father’s
condition weighed heavily on him to the point he couldn’t keep his mind on his
work. He’d been screwing up all day, but hoped his partner hadn’t noticed. She
did.

“So, what’s the story? You didn’t get any this
weekend?”

Izzie could be a real bitch sometimes. Jackson
ignored her and kept chewing.

“She stand you up?”

Jackson set his Coke on the table a little too
hard, splashing brown liquid onto the tabletop.

“Whoa, I hit a nerve, didn’t I babe? What’s her
name?”

“There is no
her
,” Jackson said, trying
without success to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He picked up the
remnants of his sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth hoping to discourage Izzie
from engaging in further conversation. It didn’t work.

“So what’s with you today? You’ve hardly said a
word.”

“If you must know, I’m worried about my dad. Mom
said he’s in bad shape.” He took a final gulp of his soft drink. “So, now you
know.” Then, without meaning to, Jackson added, “How about you? Enjoy watching
the dolphins?”  

If Jackson had hauled off and punched Izzie in
the stomach, the response wouldn’t have been any more dramatic.

“How’d you know I went to the beach? You
following me now?”

“Hell no. I went to the beach for a little R&R,
looked up and there you were with some guy.” When Izzie’s eyebrows shot up in
disbelief, Jackson added, “That’s the god’s honest truth.”

“Then why didn’t you come over and say hey? Or
did you feel guilty for stalking me?”

“I told you I wasn’t spying on you!” Jackson’s
voice rose. “Trust me, I have better things to do in my spare time than chase
after you.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

“So, isn’t he the guy we saw on the balcony?”

“What? That again?” Izzie sounded flustered.

“I just wondered
’cause
from where I stood it
kinda
looked like the same
guy.”

“You win. I’ll tell you if you promise to shut up
about the whole trafficking thing. Okay?”

Jackson nodded. Despite the warm temperature
outside, a cold chill made its way down his spine.

“It’s the same guy. You satisfied? And no, he’s
not some big trafficker—drug or otherwise. He’s just a guy living by himself in
what looks like a fairly nice house. The girl we saw on the balcony was his
niece, his sister’s kid visiting from Chicago. Guess she was on spring break or
something. Anyway, she went back home, so it’s just him and his dog. That’s all
there is to it. He’s a nice guy and I like him. Satisfied? You can stop
worrying now. There’s no bogeymen, no traffickers, no nothing. Just sunny
Tampa—beaches, festivals and lots of work for us news-media types. Which, by
the way,” she tapped her watch, “we’d better get a move on or we’ll be late.”

Jackson was still digesting the part where Izzie
had revealed she’d been inside the man’s house, that she liked him and, while she
didn’t explicitly say so, that she planned on continuing to see him. He
shrugged, gathered up the leavings of their lunch and tossed them in the trash.
She and Mom were right. Izzie was a grown woman, free to make her own
choices—and like the rest of the adult world, would have to live with the
consequences.

****

That afternoon as Jackson sat in the edit bay,
reviewing his day’s work, his boss stopped by.

“Hey Jackson.”

“Hi Morrie.” Jackson tried to hide how startled
he was. The chief photographer didn’t usually stop by in the middle of a shift
for no reason.

“Stop by my office when you’re done here.”

Jackson nodded. “You got it. I’ll be finished in
about half an hour.”

“That works for me.”

What could the man possibly want with him? Had he
done something wrong? Offended someone? Jackson mentally reran the events of
the past several days but could think of nothing that might warrant the
attention of his supervisor. Well, he’d find out soon enough.

Thirty minutes later, Jackson popped into the
chief photographer’s office. “This a good time?”

Morris Stone looked up from a document he was
scrutinizing. “Sure, c’mon in and close the door.”

The trepidation Jackson felt went up several
notches.
What was this about? Was he going to be fired?
It wouldn’t be
the first time a photographer was let go. He just didn’t think he’d be joining
their ranks.

“Pull up a chair and stop looking so scared.” The
man appeared to be trying to lighten the mood.

Jackson slid into a guest chair across from his
boss and folded his hands, resting them on his thighs. They were slippery with
sweat.

“So, how’re you doing?” Morris Stone leaned
forward, his weight shifting in his chair.

“Uh, fine,” Jackson cleared his throat and sat up
a little straighter. He didn’t know what Morrie was getting at, but was fairly
certain he hadn’t asked him to come in simply to see “how he was doing”.

“I can see you’re puzzled, so I’ll get right to
the point.”

Getting to the point was Morris Stone’s specialty.
Everyone knew the man didn’t mince words. Jackson braced himself for the blow
he knew was coming—he was getting canned.

“You’ve been here, what? Nearly a year?”

Jackson nodded and tried to breathe. His chest
felt tight. His throat was constricted, making speech difficult.

“I realize your annual review is a few weeks off,
but wanted you to know we’ve been pleased with your work so far. Plus you get
on well with the rest of the staff, have a consistently good attitude and
appear willing to step up when something happens—even when it’s not your shift.
Those are the kinds of things we look for—someone who’s a real team player.”

So he wasn’t being fired?
The man had
called him in to compliment him? Jackson inhaled. His muscles which had tensed
up began to relax. He smiled. “Thank you.”

But Morris Stone’s expression didn’t match his
complimentary words. Something wasn’t quite right. He fiddled with his
ballpoint, letting it roll from one hand to the other. Then he stopped. His
hazel eyes searched Jackson.

“So, I’m wondering what’s going on? I mean I
thought we had a solid photographer in you and now I’m hearing there are
problems. The quality of your work has slipped. You’re late in filing and
you’ve been making mistakes, the kind someone new on the job might make. So,
Jackson, what the hell’s going on with you?”

Unprepared for the dressing down he’d just
received, Jackson was momentarily speechless. “Uh, well, I, uh, what do you
mean?”

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear,” Morris
said. “The work you turned in today is not representative of the cameraman I
hired. Surely you recognize that.”

Slowly nodding his head up and down, Jackson
said, “You’re right. It’s not my best work. I’m sorry. I’ll do better from now
on.”

“Jackson, I didn’t call you into my office for an
apology. I want to know what’s happening that has you so distracted you can’t
keep your mind on what you’re doing.” When Jackson didn’t respond, he
continued, “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years and I think I know a
little about human nature. You didn’t come in here talented and enthusiastic
then all of a sudden shut down for no reason. I want to know what that reason
is and I want to know now.” He folded his arms, leaned back and drilled Jackson
with his eyes.

Jackson breathed in a lungful of air. “It’s my
dad. Over the weekend my mom called and said he’s in a bad way. It’s liver
failure. He may even be…” He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes several
time. “She said he may die if he doesn’t get a transplant and…he can’t get one
because, well, he’s an alcoholic and they won’t even put him on the list since
he’s still drinking. I keep thinking I should quit my job, go home and find out
if I’m a match so I can offer him part of my liver.” The words tumbled out so
fast, Jackson was breathless. “I’m sorry this has affected my work, Morrie, I
really am. It’s just that I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even if I
go home, I’m not sure we can come up with the money for the operation.”

Empathy for his young photographer was painted on
Morris Stone’s face. “God, Jackson, I had no idea. I thought it was just some
girl who’d blown you off and I was prepared to tell you to suck it up and take
it like a man.”

He tapped his fingers on the desktop. Jackson
could hear the murmur of newsroom activity through the closed door. The
situation was hopeless and he knew it.

“Tell you what. I don’t want to lose you, but
family comes first. So this is what we’ll do. You go home and find out if
you’re a match. If you are, maybe you can have some fundraisers to come up with
the money. Take as much time as you need. Just keep us posted so we know what’s
going on, okay?”

In spite of his best efforts to control himself,
tears flooded Jackson’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Morrie’s kindness was
so unexpected it left him grasping for words to express his gratitude.

“Now, how’re you going to get home? Fly?”

“Uh, well, I don’t have the money for that. I’ll
have to drive.”

Morris shook his head. “In
your
car? I
don’t think so. You’ll break down halfway home, then what? No, you’ll fly and
I’ll pay for it. Just don’t tell anybody or they’ll expect me to do the same
for them. Deal?” He stood up and shook Jackson’s hand.

“Deal.” Jackson’s entire body shook with emotion
and gratitude as he left the office and headed home.