spooned: a lighthearted utensil Romance

Chapter Two

Jack

Boston, Massachusetts

1941

Fear is something I’ve never allowed myself, but my heart is racing.

“There’s still time to change your mind,” my mother says as she parks the Plymouth Deluxeshe taught herself to drive as soon as my father left for his latest deployment. Every able-bodied man is either already off to fight in the war, or they’re readying themselves to go.

No one asks if I’ll be called for duty. Many people’s expectations of me lowered the day I was born and the doctor broke it to my parents that I was blind. My father fought the truth at first, summoning specialists from around the world. There was nothing any of them could do for me.

I died to him the day he accepted he couldn’t fix me. He was a man used to being in control and my imperfection broke him on an elemental level. From that day onward, he claimed he didn’t have a child—until my younger brother, Paul, was born.

Paul would be with Mom and me today, likely also trying to talk me out of this, if he wasn’t already training to go. The irony of my father celebrating the son he adored heading overseas to fight in a war that so many were not returning from isn’t lost on me.

Nor is the fact that I’ve asked the woman who has always protected me to give me the opportunity to do the same. I clear my throat. “You raised me to see beyond my limitations. If I can play a role, any role, in saving the world—I want to. No, I need to.”

She places a hand over mine. “I know, but I wish Farley hadn’t told you about the flier.”

Farley is the only reason I feel I can leave her. I turn my hand so I can give her a reassuring squeeze. He’s been my mother’s driver since before I was born. Now that the other male housestaff have been called away to fight, he’s taken on the role as general caretaker of the estate. In his late sixties, Farley is considered too old to serve, but I suspect he would have signed up anyway had he not felt my mother needed him.

He’s always cared for the two of us. He was the one who secured tutors from Boston’s School for the Blind to educate me. He was the one who taught me martial arts and street fighting to ensure I can protect not only myself but my mother if I have to.

Although neither have ever said a word that hinted at it, I suspect Farley loves my mother and would have stolen her from my father if he were younger. I wouldn’t have judged him for it. Farley is a good man who believes I am as capable as any sighted person.

When he saw a flier with a fierce eagle descending for an attack, wings spread wide and proud, but with one leg instead of two, he thought of me. And then he shared the message:

Uncle Sam needs every bird in the air.

Support the troops by learning a specialized skill.

With your help, we will be invincible. Sign up today to save the world.

Farley knew it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass by. Will it entail decoding encrypted messages? Going undercover to glean intel? We have no idea, but I have to do my part.

My mother is covertly as strong-willed as my father. She won’t beg me to stay with her, just as she didn’t ask my father or my brother to. This is a battle of good and evil. Everyone must do what they can. She’ll let me go for the same reason she stays with my father: she believes it’s her duty

.Still, I know it’s not easy for her, so I raise a hand to locate her face then kiss her cheek.“Live or die, I do so unafraid. You made that possible and I love you for it.”Her hand finds mine again and she gives it a squeeze before saying, “When you exit the car, the flier says to go down an alley that is perpendicular to your side of the car. It’s dimly lit so I’m not sure, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone else here. The door you’ll need to knock on will be on the right. If you’d like, I can walk you to—”

“No.” I straighten, grab my walking stick, and open the car door. “And don’t linger. It might not be safe. You should have allowed Farley to drive me.”

Her voice has a familiar firmness when she says, “I will remain here for thirty minutes. If you do not return to tell me all is well, I have a revolver and I will go in there after you. I don’tfear death either, not when it comes to my son.” After a moment, she adds, “If this goes badly,and Farely had taken you I wouldn’t be able to forgive him for it, and that wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” I answer quietly. Integrity. Loyalty. Self-discipline. My mother has it all.

I could tell her not to risk her life to save mine, but I’d be wasting both of our time. Instead, Isay, “I’ll sign in, then I’ll come back to tell you all is well.”

Her deeply indrawn breath is audible and the only tell that her emotions are running high. “I understand why you can’t sign up as a Chatfield, but thank you for honoring my family by using their surname.”

“Jack Sully.” I say the name aloud and like the way it sounds. Less pretentious than Jackson-Chatfield.“It’s a good name.

”A strong one.”

I smile and unfold my large frame onto the sidewalk. “Move the car if you sense anything questionable. I’ll find you.”

“Be careful, Jackson—Jack.” The slight crack in my mother’s voice my cue to leave.

“I will be,” I say, despite knowing next to nothing about what I’m signing up for. The regular military branches are public, but none of them want me. I don’t care who made those fliers, if they are offering people like me a chance to get involved and make a difference, I’ll traverse a thousand musty alleys to meet with them.