The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

“Who’s Brett?” Grant asked.

“The drummer. Have you checked his social media?” Jessie asked.

“We’re not friends with him. I guess it’s not cool to be friends with your parents on social media.”

“Hold on.”

Grant could hear his daughter talking to her husband, asking him to check on social media for Jonas. “Okay, he hasn’t posted for a couple days. Tell you what, I’ll message Brett. I’ll have him reach out to you. Okay? I’m sure my brother is fine.”

“I am, too. But ... you know, your mom has me worried. And on a different note, are you guys coming for dinner? I promise no Jonas talk.”

Jessie chuckled. “We’ll be there.”

Grant thanked his daughter, feeling bad he even had to call her. It seemed that Jonas' behavior always dragged her into the drama and it wasn’t fair.

She was the epitome of ‘you are your brother’s keeper’ always the one who talked to him when things were bad. Always overshadowed by her brother’s bad behavior.

Grant felt stupid.

What was he doing?

Jonas was a grown man. Thirty-two years old. Mistakes were for him to make, not for Grant to try to cut off or fix.

The bottom line was Jonas was his child. No matter how old, he was still his child.

Cate returned from church and as usual after services, she had an optimistic attitude. Her worrisome attitude from the night before seemed to be buried.

Unlike Grant, she seemed less worried about not hearing from Jonas and more irritated that he would do this.

Their Sunday lunch spot was Sandy’s Diner. A small spot Grant had found when they first moved to town years earlier. It was a place they took the kids. Like Grant, they always got breakfast, no matter what time of day it was. Cate preferred a sandwich.

Now they were alone, empty nesters they were called.

Cate enjoyed the lunches with her husband. He was a good man, looked almost as young as the day she met him. Sure, his face had a few lines, but he was still handsome. The gray in his hair was masked by his natural, sandy, blonde hair. Granted he put off getting a haircut as long as possible. As they sat in the diner, it was at that phase where the bangs curled up, some dancing across the tops of his wire rim glasses.

To Cate, he was a little less talkative than usual. He was preoccupied and doing that thing where he tried too hard to hide the fact something was bothering him.

She didn’t want to prod, eventually he’d open up about it. He never really was good at keeping things inside.

Midway through the lunch, his message alert sounded off. In an unusual occurrence, Grant looked at his phone. He lifted his eyes to Cate.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I need to make a phone call.”

“Sure.”

The phone was in his hand, and after a swipe of his thumb on the screen, he brought it to his ear. “Hey, yeah, thank you so much for reaching out.” He paused. “I know it’s weird. And I’m really sorry, but we haven’t heard from Jonas and …” His facial expression suddenly switched to concern as he listened. “At all? Who did he drive with?” Grant’s eyes closed. “Yes, please. Call me right back. Thank you.” Slowly, he set down the phone.

“What?” Cate could feel that panic, the feeling she had left behind when she walked into church. “What is it?”

Grant hesitated before answering. “That was Jonas’ drummer, Brett. No one has seen or heard from Jonas since they left the club. He was still there. He never made it back to the hotel. Brett is actually a block away from Jonas’ place now. He’s checking there.”

“And he’ll get right back to us?” Cate asked, shivering an exhaling breath.

“Yes, he said he’ll get right back. Maybe … maybe he met someone.” Grant shrugged. “He said he was still at the club. He met some people. Did his partying thing and is sleeping it off. That wouldn’t be out of character for him.”

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Cate lifted her coffee.

“We won’t worry until we have to,” Grant said. “Right.”

“Right.”

Grant’s eyes kept shifting to the phone. He mentioned not worrying, but said nothing about relaxing. She knew neither one of them would relax until after his phone rang again.

NINE

“I got you.”

It was him. The man in the car, David. The vision of him flashed before Jonas’ eyes. It happened out of the blue while he aimed the remote at the television. There wasn’t anything that triggered it, at least none he knew. But it came to him.

It was dark, it was after the accident. Jonas was reaching, his hands bloody and David suddenly appeared, his face drew close to Jonas. “I got you.”

Gone.

That was it.

But it was a start. It was his first memory of the accident, if indeed it was a memory.

“Hi, there, Harold!”

Who was the old guy that just poked his head in the door of his hospital room?

Jonas just stared.

“Want some visitors?”

What Jonas wanted to say was, “Do I have a choice?’ but he refrained and said nothing.

Had he known the old guy wasn’t alone, he may have said something.

A man walked in with him, a little younger than the older guy and with them also was a woman. Younger, maybe Jonas’ age or around that, she held an iPad or something in her hands.

The guys stepped closer. “You look … well, I’d say good, but you look kind of swollen in the face. Anyhow, visitors in the hospital are good for the soul and healing. Since you don’t have any family in town, Pastor Rick here thought it’d might be nice to send some visitors your way to keep up the spirits.”

“I don’t need a priest,” Jonas said.

“I’m not a priest,” Pastor Rick said. “I’m a pastor and this is my daughter, Haley.”

“Hi,” she said politely.

“And who is he?” Jonas pointed to the old guy.

“You don’t remember me?” he asked. “I’m Joe. Joe Baker. My wife