Five years.
It had been five years since Jonathan first contacted him. Frank had never imagined that an unexpected telephone call would lead him to where he was today. The contract work had given him something he'd been missing since leaving the military. A sense of purpose. Something he was good at, something that required the skills he'd spent years developing.
And it paid exceptionally well.
More importantly, it gave him something most of his neighbors didn't have. Time.
Frank received four or five assignments a year. When he did work, he might be gone for several days, occasionally longer. But when he was home, his time belonged to him.
And most of that time belonged to Jack.
That October, Frank let Jack stay up late to watch the Cubs playoff game against the Marlins. They sat together on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on Jack's lap, cheering as Chicago carried a three-run lead into the eighth inning. Jack insisted he wasn't tired. Before long, his head had settled against Frank's shoulder, his hand still resting in the popcorn.
When a fan reached for a foul ball, Frank muttered "Interference" at the television. He wanted to shout, but one look at Jack stopped him. He steadied the popcorn bowl and watched in disbelief as the Marlins scored eight runs. Jack slept through the whole thing.
The following day wasn't any better. The Cubs lost again that night.
At eight years old, Jack had developed an interest in just about anything involving a ball. Baseball in the spring, soccer in the fall, and whatever game he could convince the neighborhood kids to play in between. Frank loved watching him grow. He attended nearly every game, volunteered whenever the teams needed help, and spent countless afternoons throwing a baseball or kicking a soccer ball around the backyard.
Jack wasn't always the best player on the field, but he gave everything he had. Frank enjoyed watching his son improve, though he found just as much pleasure in the little things. The excited wave from across the field. The smile after a good play. The conversations on the drive home.
Sometimes those conversations had absolutely nothing to do with the game.
Like last Saturday.
Frank smiled as he remembered the soccer match.
Jack and his best friend, Anthony, played on the same team. The boys had been in classes together since kindergarten, and apparently being in the middle of a soccer game wasn't enough to interrupt whatever conversation they were having. The ball was moving quickly down the field, with most of the children running after it.
Except for two.
Jack and Anthony stood near midfield, facing one another, talking as casually as if they were waiting for the school bus. Frank watched them for a moment, shaking his head.
"Would you look at those two?"
The voice came from beside him.
Anthony's father, Anthony Sr., stood with his arms folded, watching the boys with an amused expression.
"Unbelievable," Anthony Sr. said. "They're standing right in the middle of the game."
Frank laughed.
"I swear, those two could be in the middle of a tornado and still find something to talk about."
Anthony Sr. chuckled.
"Probably wouldn't even notice the tornado."
"Not unless it interrupted their conversation."
They laughed as a player raced past the boys with the ball. Neither Jack nor Anthony moved.
"Hey, Ant!" Anthony Sr. called out. "You planning on playing today?"
The boys turned toward the sideline, looking briefly confused.
Anthony pointed toward the ball. Both boys suddenly realized what was happening and took off running, leaving their fathers laughing even harder.
"At least they're having fun," Anthony Sr. said.
"That's what matters."
Frank watched the two boys chase after their teammates, then gave Anthony Sr. a quick smile. They weren't particularly close, but Frank liked him. He was friendly, easygoing, and seemed as devoted to his son as Frank was to Jack.
He was grateful for the freedom his work provided. Frank knew he had Jonathan to thank for much of it. Jack had grown accustomed to his father's work schedule. Sometimes Dad went away for a few days. Sometimes he was home for weeks. And when he was home, he was there.
Of course, none of it would have been possible without Jane.
Jack loved his aunt, and Jane loved him just as fiercely. Whenever Frank traveled, she stayed with Jack, maintaining his school routine, taking him to practices, and making sure he had everything he needed.
She knew Frank worked as a corporate consultant, advising businesses across several different areas. It explained the irregular assignments, occasional travel, and long stretches between projects. She'd accepted his explanation from the beginning.
Frank was grateful for that, too.
Jonathan handled the assignments. Jane helped care for Jack when Frank traveled. And Frank made certain that his son had the stability and attention he deserved.
He had built a good life.
Frank shifted his attention back to the windows across the street. The office was still empty. Shouldn't be much longer now. He adjusted his position on the concrete and settled his eye behind the scope.
Time to get back to work.