If I was in an illustrated kids’s book right now an imaginary light bulb would go off over my head. “And all this time I thought Sharp was just some sort of weird way of twisting the saying ‘sharp as steel.’”
“That’s what most everyone thinks these days, and there is some truth to it. But the truth is the creative genius behind SteeleSharp is Jack Sharp.”
“I don’t remember meeting him at the office.”
“Because you didn’t. Nobody that works there these days has met him or heard from him in ages.”
“My gut tells me nobody doesn’t include you.”
Silas’s eyes move from mine to the wall, admiring his best friend’s work. “Usually best to trust your gut instinct, right?”
Who was this caring man who could just have a ‘normal’ conversation all of a sudden? Where was the bossy company founder who preferred instilling discipline in his employees, or at least me, with a steel fist…no pun intended?
“Where is he?”
“Why, would you like to meet him?”
I nod.
“Good, because he’s been waiting all his life to meet you.”
11
Silas
“Is Jack on his way over?” Scarlett asks as I lead her out into the back garden of my property.
“He’s not on his way over because he was always here.”
“Jack,” I holler toward the guesthouse that sits behind a gazebo and duck pond.
“Not today,” a voice calls back, and Scarlett turns and looks at me with shock, her eyebrows skyward.
“Somebody lives there?”
I nod. “Not just somebody. Somebody very special…to both of us.”
“Come on out. I’ve got someone here I want you to meet.”
“Tomorrow,” he cries back, agitation in his voice.
I firm my voice. “Not tomorrow, Jack. Today.”
I can hear him mumbling something under his breath and know he’s slipping into a robe and seconds later the door made of blown Mexican glass opens and he steps out into the day, clearly having been asleep up until this point.
But one look at Scarlett and he’s wide awake. His hands freeze, the string from his robe falling in the midst of tying it. Fortunately he’s wearing boxers and a T-shirt under it, but right now nothing else matters except the immediate look of recognition on his face.
“You…”
“Yeah, Jack. I found her.”
“After all these years.”
He stumbles forward, his arms extended like a zombie as he approaches us in a daze.
I look down at Scarlett and see every inch of skin on her body is covered in goosebumps. She should turn and run, it would be the logical answer, if it weren’t for the same recognition in her eyes as I can clearly see in Jack’s. It’s the same recognition I had when I first saw her enter my building. The eye color. The face structure. The same youthful exuberance, the same genius, I saw in Jack all those years ago.
And they both see it in each other.
“Dad?” slides off Scarlett’s lips as she stands there in shock.
“Scarlett, meet your father…the legendary Miami artist Jack Sharp.”
Seconds later Jack is on us, wrapping his arms around a stunned Scarlett who collapses into him.
And then faints.
12
Scarlett
Apparently I was only out for a second, and Silas and Jack both had a hold of me so I didn’t fall or anything close to it.
Five minutes later I’m sitting at a beautiful little circular iron French table in the backyard, both men not more than a couple feet from me.
And I’m still in shock.
“Most of that area we visited earlier today has been gentrified, but I convinced the city that some of the old graffiti in the area should be designated as historic landmarks, and with a little prodding, and a lot of money,” he laughs, “they complied.”
All I can do is nod as I continue to stare at ‘dad’ and he does the same.
“Your dad was very hard on himself Scarlett, but in a belittling way,” he continues as if my dad isn’t sitting right here with us.
“It’s true,” dad says, making me feel a bit more comfortable. “I needed a heavy hand to convince me that my self-talk was more important than anything else. But the truth of the matter is when your mom was pregnant I was so damn happy that I thought I didn’t need it anymore, so I quit practicing my affirmations. And then…she left with you, or at least you were inside her belly, and my whole world fell apart.”
“It was a tough time, and we’ve never really gotten past it, have we?”
Dad just shakes his head. “I still work, but it’s not the same. But now…in this moment…I already feel everything changing.”
He reaches out and places his hand on the table palm up.
I can’t take my eyes off him. His gentleness, his kindness, the way he resembles me so much, or technically the way I resemble him.
I place my palm in his, continuing to take it all in as I ask, “How did you know, Silas?”
“I’m constantly on the lookout for new talent, but not just talented artists. I need people that have stories, history, things that clients and advertisers want to hear. Something that makes them stop and take notice in this busy world we live in.” He pauses. “When the temp agency said they had a new young girl in town, it wasn’t anything new. But when they told me how old you
