The Lighthouse Man

By Simon Smith

Quincy was an extraordinary eleven-year-old girl facing an extraordinarily difficult, life altering situation that was gradually turning her entire world upside down.

Drex was a grown man still battling demons from a past life, still trying to figure things out, and still trying to cast-off doubt as to whether or not he was a total and complete bum.

And, in the blink of an eye, their worlds would converge, in a way that would link them together, in some manner, in some way, forever.

The question was how would it all go down? Could something so far out of the realm of possibility actually become possible?

And, could something clearly heading for disaster end up being…just what they both needed?

Doubtful.

That kind of stuff just doesn't happen.

But maybe, just maybe there was a way…?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Smith
• Release date: Nov 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386747567

Book preview

THE

LIGHTHOUSE MAN

Simon Smith

Also by Simon Smith

Bubbles Always Burst

Stealing Office Supplies

Copyright © 2018 Simon Smith

All rights reserved

Cover by Tyler McCoy

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Formatting by Type A Formatting

This is a work of fiction. The characters and happenings set forth in this book are completely made up. Any similarities to real people, either alive or passed on is pure coincidence and absolutely untended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any way or form or by any means whatsoever without the express permission of the author.

Contents

THE LIGHTHOUSE MAN

Also by Simon Smith

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

About the Author

Thank You

Dedication

For my awesome uncle and friend Leif Y. Jacobsen, Jr.,

an amazing man and an inspirational beacon of light for us all

And my Abbie love,

whose bursts of joy and purest form of light

imaginable were the inspiration for this story

And my Zoe love,

whose courage and strength and

fortitude inspires me every single day

Chapter 1

THE DAY WAS going to be just another chill day in the virtually carefree life of Drex Parker. Drexel Parker III, if anyone cared, which nobody did these days.

These days, he was just Drex.

So yeah, a good day, filled with an abundance of more of the same, which, truth be told, basically translated into much of . . . well, nothing really.

Which was just how Drex liked it.

Until he got the call.

From Sandi.

His ex-girlfriend.

From, like, twelve years ago.

Sandi. Jesus.

They had been together just long enough to cause a stir amongst the rest of the first-year associates at Smith Wacker LLC, the largest, most prestigious law firm in Baltimore, Maryland. Everyone knew they would end up together, almost like it was preordained. Didn’t the smartest, best-looking boy and girl who had gone to the best colleges and law schools and were each from super-rich blueblood families always end up together? Well, they did. And their togetherness lasted just long enough to make everyone happy, give everyone what they wanted, satisfy everyone’s sense of balance and propriety.

And it lasted just long enough for each of them to conclude that they hated each other.

Completely.

So to say Drex was happy to hear Sandi’s voice would have been a gross misstatement.

Their talk was short. Sandi was never one to mince words or dance around a subject. Always laser sharp and decisively focused, which was why she had been such a supremely good lawyer.

As he put his cell down Drex was acutely aware of how quiet everything had become. He was aware of the in and out of his now jagged breath. He was also aware that at that exact moment in time, everything had changed.

Because of what Sandi had just laid down.

He wondered how it could be that for the past twelve or so years he had gone about his life deliberately embracing the mostly numbing sameness of each day, and then in the span of a few seconds, it all changed.

Irrevocably.

Forever.

Because Sandi told him he, Drex Parker, carefully cultivated slacker extraordinaire, was a father.

Chapter 2

A FATHER, REALLY?!

Had to be a joke, right?!

But Sandi wasn’t a joker. Wasn’t funny. Didn’t have an ounce of mirth in her body.

Drex had stammered some weak denials, some tepid how-could-it-be’s, but as usual, she cut him off, took control of the conversation, silenced him just like he’d seen her do countless times during conference calls with opposing counsel, or in cavernous board rooms filled with long mahogany tables and plush black leather chairs and stacks of papers and empty coffee cups and the highest of high-paid lawyers from the best of the best firms. Where the acrid smell of white-collar sweat permeated the still air. When she talked, everyone listened.

Hearing her voice instantly brought back a flood of memories, of that time in his life he’d been trying to forget about, trying to move past.

Funny how twelve years of space and distance could come cascading back in one wide, despair-filled arc.

Their conversation was one-sided, really more like a press briefing: She said he was the father of her daughter. Who was now eleven years old. Yes, she was certain he was the father. Yes, she had the DNA test to prove it. As always, she was at least two steps ahead of him, refuting his protests before they even got past the incubation stage.

She said she’d had no intention of ever involving him with her daughter. Ever. That she hadn’t needed him to know, or to help, or to be aware of her existence. Until now. Because now things had changed. Irreversibly. Again, she cut off his questions as to why with a simple they just had. And that she needed him to come see her. Immediately. That she needed to explain the rest in person.

She gave him her address and said to come the next day. He knew better than to tell her he was busy. The truth was he wasn’t. Really. Plus he knew it really didn’t matter what he told her. He was going to meet her the next day.

Only later did it dawn on him that the address she gave in Baltimore City was for The John’s Hopkins Hospital.

Chapter 3

SANDI HAD ONLY instructed him to be at Hopkins at 1:00 and had said that she would text him further instructions when he arrived in the main lobby.

Classic Sandi: feeding him just enough intel, parsed out incrementally, to keep him moving forward and, most importantly, within her control.

And Sandi was always in control.

Which was something Drex almost never felt.

Probably why she liked him for that brief period of time Drex mused as he coaxed his thirty-year-old Jeep Wagoneer around a ridiculously tight corner in the parking lot adjacent to the main hospital building. She had seen his vulnerability, that he was able to be manipulated, sensed it like a shark sensed bloody meat. Drex reflexively leaned into the next hairpin corner, his six-foot-two-inch frame ranging into the passenger seat like a bobsledder finessing a turn, finally spied a spot and somehow squeezed in.

The engine sputtered, coughed a few times, then finally gave up. Drex took a deep breath, then another and another, slowly exhaling each time.

He looked at the image staring back from the rear-view mirror: Three-day-old black stubble with an almost imperceptible sprinkling of gray, red-rimmed eyes, his thick wavy brown hair thrown into odd geometric shapes. The result of a whole lot of handwringing last night and unanswered questions and uncertainty.

And almost no sleep.

He took another deep breath, followed the air in and then out like the instructors preached at the yoga studio Sandi used to drag him to. It didn’t take long for everyone in the class to conclude his body was just not designed to be flexible. But Sandi didn’t much care. Yoga was good, and he was going with her.

One more breath, a quick glance in the mirror, a slight, tight-lipped smile.

Good.

Resolve.

Not this time.

No matter how devoid of meaning his life felt at that exact moment, he was not going to be talked into something he didn’t want to do.

Couldn’t do.

Not this time.

As Drex made his way toward the hospital lobby, he wondered again why Hopkins? Why a hospital? Was the girl sick?

The girl.

Jesus.

His daughter.

HIS daughter?

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, raked his hand through his hair, reached around and tried to pry his T-shirt from his back. The late May air was thick, the humidity palpable. He knew he looked a mess.

He also knew he was not a father.

Fathers wore suits and had combed hair.

And answers.

Drex just had a whole lot of questions.

Maybe Sandi was now also a doctor? In addition to being a supremely gifted lawyer, also a physician? Not improbable, given her bulging intellect and herculean drive. But unlikely.

Maybe she was also meeting a client, some super-rich dowager entrusting Sandi to sort out the entangled wed of interests and family millions? Killing two birds with one stone, some billable time and a brief meeting with her now off-the-grid slacker ex?

Oh, and also father of her child.

Father.

Why now? Why the need to tell him now?

At the appointed time, like right on the click of 1:00, Sandi texted him where to go: Through the lobby of the main hospital, past the cafeteria to the bank of elevators to the third floor. As Drex navigated the cavernous halls, the white-coated doctors all seemed to have an acute sense of direction and purpose and energy.

He bet they all had answers.

The third floor said, Oncology.

Damn.

A brief stop at the nurse’s station.

Yes, Sandi Harris, room 302, she was waiting for him.

Chapter 4

THE DOOR WAS slightly open. Drex knocked once, lightly, and a woman’s voice ushered him in. Sandi’s voice, no doubt, only less . . . strident maybe?

His first thought as his eyes adjusted to the low light in the room was shock at how many tubes and wires and monitors were connected to something that wasn’t a robot, wasn’t a machine.

Something that was human.

Sandi?

It was a withered, head-scarfed version, but the strong jawline and penetrating light blue eyes were hers, unmistakably. She was propped up on a bunch of pillows, the blue-and-white paisley hospital gown offered a slight splash of color against the sterile white sheet and blanket pulled up a little past her waist.

But her head scarf was hot pink and bright and brilliant.

Sandi. Even this clearly sick version was perfectly put together, with a flair for the extraordinary.

And beautiful.

Drex involuntarily took a big deep breath.

Hi, Sandi.

Hi, Parker.

Drex had forgotten that she always called him, everyone, by their last names. Some prep school thing she had once tried to explain.

He took another breath, tried to gather himself.

But man this was just . . . overwhelming.

And weird.

A few seconds of awkward silence.

She was studying him, taking in his stained tan cargo shorts, slightly ripped Make America Think Again T-shirt and green Converse tennis shoes covered with strategically placed gray duct tape patches.

Her eyes lingered on his belly straining against his battered brow belt.

Looking good, Parker, she said, finally.

He hadn’t forgotten her irony, always at the ready.

Drex smiled, patted his belly. "Thanks. Hours of lonely practice to get this just