Emily and Jacob Fitzgerald

Ian continues his search for answers, this time questioning Gabe's timid niece and her abused children.

I stayed in a hotel that night, and the next day, I followed the GPS's directions to the address Diana had given me. I knocked on the door to a much smaller house. A thin blonde woman in her thirties opened the door. She frowned when she saw me.

"Hello," I said. "Are you Emily Fitzgerald?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"My name is Ian Smith. Is there any way I could talk to your son?"

"Which son?"

"All of them, if possible. But especially Jacob."

She looked at the staircase behind her, then started crying. I stepped back, startled. "I'm sorry ma'am," I stuttered. Her fine blonde hair fell in front of her face and stuck to her teary cheeks. I tried to comfort her by awkwardly placing my hand on her shaking shoulder. She fell to her knees and continued to sob, louder and louder. "Please no!" she choked, tears falling to the floor.

"What?" I managed, completely baffled. She grabbed onto my pant leg and rested her head on my knee. I tried to comfort her once more, touching her head this time. I had just decided to leave when she looked at me through dampened strands of hair and sobbed, "Please don't take my babies away from me!"

I stood speechless for a moment, then said, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't take them, please, they're all I have left! I'll leave before he gets home from work, I promise! If you just give me some time to get everyone packed up, I-"

"What? Hold on a minute, listen-"

"Fine, I'll leave right now if you want, just please don't take my sunshine away!"

I once again stood speechless. Finally, after more begging and sobbing, I swallowed my disbelief and said, "Look lady, I'm not with child services! I'm not trying to take anything away from you."

She stood up, then covered her mouth with her hands. "Then who are you?"

"I'm Ian and I'm here to find out if there's anything you or your son could tell me about Gabriel Watson. I just moved into his old house."

She let out a sigh that almost sounded like a laugh. "Oh. I'm so sorry about that, it's just that I thought-" She wiped the tears off of her face then smiled weakly. "Anyway, come inside, make yourself at home." She led me into the kitchen and I sat down at the table.

"Jacob, Jasmine, Junior, come downstairs please!" she yelled, looking at the ceiling. She pulled a chair over to sit across from me as I heard the kids running down the stairs. "Jacob," she said to the oldest one, "this is Mr., um-"

"Ian's fine."

The boy looked uncertainly up at me and I smiled, trying to make him feel comfortable. He looked back to his mother. "Mom? Why do you look like you were crying?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is he going to take us away?"

"No. It's okay, Jacob," she smiled. "This man is friends with your Uncle Gabriel." The teenager looked back to me now, still untrusting.

"What does he want?"

"Jacob, don't be so rude!" She looked at me as if to apologize for her son's behavior.

"It's okay," I said to Emily. "I just had some questions about your uncle."

"Why?"

"I live in his house now and he wrote a lot of things about you, and a lot of things that aren't about you, but I don't know what any of it means. I was hoping you could help me figure it out." I handed him the letter. He looked to his mother, who nodded and told him to take it. He took it out of the envelope, which he gave to his mother.

He read over the letter silently, looking up at me occasionally with distrust. He handed it back to me. "I don't know what it means," he said, staring at me through squinted eyes.

"Well it was worth a try," I said.

Emily took me in the living room and told me about Gabriel. "He was such an intelligent man, and a deep thinker. Really creative too. I have no doubt that whatever that piece of paper says, it has a perfectly logical meaning to him. He's just so much more abstract than most people. But he was an amazing man and a real blessing as an uncle, both to me growing up and to my children. He's so compassionate and selfless."

"Selfless?" He didn't seem selfless the way Diana had described him. He just left his step-daughter who he raised because their whole relationship was nothing to him but a responsibility that he no longer had once her mother was dead.

"He willingly offered to take in my children when things weren't good at home, which was a lot. That's why I thought you were child services...it's still a lot."

"But he doesn't take them anymore?"

"Not since he moved, no. He's so far away now."

"Right." I stood up to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot!" I said. "Do you know who Tommy Hancock is?"

"No, I wish I could help. Sorry. But I know Frank Butler."

"Who's Frank Butler?"

"It says his name on the inside of the envelope you showed me with the letter inside."

I gaped at the envelope. "I didn't even notice that! Who is he? How did Gabriel know him?"

"I don't know how Gabe knew him, but he was Jacob's PE teacher throughout middle school. If you want to talk to him Monday before or after school, I can give you the school address and his phone number."

"That would be great! Thank you." Before I left, I gave Emily my cell phone number and told her to call if she needed anything or if things get hard to handle at home.

As I was leaving, the little girl, Jasmine, tapped on my leg. She looked maybe eight or nine. "Mr. Ian?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"If you see Uncle Gabe, can you tell him I miss him a lot?"

"Of course," I smiled. "Thanks for letting me talk to everyone," I said to Emily. "Sorry about the scare." The oldest boy was still standing in the door staring at me suspiciously as I drove away.

That night, as I was back in my hotel about to go to sleep, I read over the letter once again, hoping all of the new information might help me to understand. It didn't.

The letter:

Dear [name smudged],

I have been thinking about the maniacal song lately and I remembered that you never knew that I can be found with at least one of the bestselling carpenters. I thought I would let you know this information so that if ever you are underneath the same umbrella at fourteen o'clock, you will know it's not only you. Please write back as soon as possible, because the caterpillar will not be here much longer as it is almost Tuesday, and the chrysalis is getting too big.

Your favorite pirate,
Gabriel Watson

PS: If you get this and write back, please confirm that it is you and not the famous double-dutch champion. Thank you!

I shook my head and put the letter back in its envelope, then turned off the lamp and closed my eyes. I dreamed of the secret life of Gabriel Watson, the loving husband and stepfather, nurturing uncle, and secret jump-ropinging pirate agent.