“Tell me again why you named me Jack.”
She looked at her son lying in bed looking so much like her brother. “Because of Uncle Jack.” She tucked the sheets in around him.
Jack traced the outlines of the bee design with his finger. “Mom?”
“Yes?” she said, lightly chuckling.
“Why was Uncle Jack named Jack?”
She went over to Jack’s book case and pulled out a storybook for the night. She looked at the cover of a little boy in an orange grove and she longed to be in the winter sun in Florida when she met Jack’s father. He was perfect, and a great father who accepted the family business with grace and dignity she didn’t think she deserved. Jack looked just like him when he was born, but soon started taking on the family traits. It wasn’t Jack’s fault and Alan loved him just the same.
“Well,” she said, taking the storybook over to his bed. “You know the story, don’t you remember it?”
He giggled under his sheets. “Tell me again, why him and I are called Jack.”
She couldn’t resist a small smile. “You are named Jack because every boy born in the family is called Jack to remember who we are.”
“Who are we?” he asked, giggling even harder.
Slowly she put the storybook down and put her hands under his electric blanket. “You.” Sliding hands further under the blanket as Jack started squirming. “Are.” Closer. “Jack.” Closer. “Frost!” she yelled, grabbing his feet and tickling them. Jack was laughing and squirming for minutes.
This short was inspired by the Three Things Challenge: orange grove, bee, Jack Frost