Free One Summer by David Baldacci

explaining myself very well.” She drew a deep breath while Jack stared at her, his hands clenching into fists with his anxiety. “It’s strictly a feel-good piece. One man’s triumph against the odds, a family reunited. These are hard times for folks, especially around here. All we hear is bad news. War, crime, people losing their jobs and their homes. I write about that stuff all the time, and while it is news, it’s also very, very depressing. But this is different. This is a great story that will make people smile. That’s all I’m shooting for. To make people feel good, for once.”
    His anger quickly disappearing, Jack looked around while he considered her request. He saw Sammy up on another ladder watching him intently. He waved to show him things were okay. Jack turned back to the woman.
    “So what exactly do I have to do?”
    “Just sit down with me and tell your story. I’ll take notes, do a draft, get back to you, polish it, and then it’ll be published in the paper and on our Web site.”
    “And that’s it?”
    “That’s all. I really believe it will be positive for lots of people. There are many folks out there with what seem like insurmountable obstacles in front of them. Reading about how you overcame yours could do a lot of good. It really could.”
    “I think I just got lucky.”
    “Maybe, but maybe not. From the research I’ve done onyour condition, the odds were zero that you would recover. No one else ever has.”
    “Well, I’m just happy I was the first. How about tomorrow after dinner?”
    “Great. About eight?”
    Jack gave her his address. She glanced at his exposed upper right arm and then his scarred calves. “I understand you were in the military. Is that where you got those?” She indicated the ragged bullet wound on his arm and the network of scars on his legs.
    “Arm in Afghanistan and legs in Iraq.”
    “Two Purples then?”
    “Yeah. Were you in the military?”
    “My son just got back from the Middle East in one piece, thank God.”
    “I guess we both have a lot to be thankful for.”
    “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    The story ran, and a few days later Janice Kaplan called.
    “The AP picked up my article, Jack.”
    Jack had just finished cleaning up after dinner.
    “What does that mean?” he asked.
    “AP. Associated Press. That means my story about you and your family is running in newspapers across the country. My editor still can’t believe it.”
    “Congratulations, Janice.”
    “No, thank
you
. It wasn’t the writing; it was the story. And it was a great picture of you and the kids. And I think lots of families will be inspired by your struggle and triumph. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up. You’re famous now. So be prepared.”

17
    Janice Kaplan’s words proved prophetic. Letters came pouring in, including offers to appear on TV and to tell his story to major magazines; one publisher even wanted Jack to write a book. Overwhelmed by the blitzkrieg and wanting a normal life with his kids, he declined them all. He figured with the passage of time other stories would emerge and take the focus away from him. His fifteen minutes of fame couldn’t be over soon enough for him. He was no miracle man, he knew, but simply a guy who got lucky.
    A week after Kaplan’s call, Jack was lying in bed when he heard voices downstairs. He slipped on his pants and crept down to the main level.
    “Stop it, Chris!”
    Jack took the last three steps in one bound. Mikki was at the door, and a teenage boy had his hands all over her as she struggled against him. It took only two seconds for Jack to lift the young man off his feet and slam him against the wall. Jacksaid, “What part of
no
don’t you get, jerk?” He looked over at Mikki. “What the hell is going on?”
    “We… he just came over to work on some… Dad, just let him down.”
    Jack snapped, “Get upstairs.”
    “Dad!”
    “Now.”
    “I can handle this. I’m not a child.”
    “Yeah, I can see