Chapter Text
The driveway was crowded with backpacks, fishing gear, coolers, and far too many last-minute supplies.
Huck insisted everything was necessary.
Michael disagreed.
"Three fishing poles?" Michael asked.
"I might break one."
"You have three."
"I might break all three."
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose.
The reader laughed from where they stood beside the truck. "Just let him go, Michael."
"I'm trying," Michael muttered.
A month-long river trip through parts of Iowa and into Illinois sounded exactly like the sort of thing Huck Finn would dream up.
And somehow Jim had agreed to supervise.
Or, more accurately, Jim had been the one to suggest safety plans, emergency contacts, backup routes, weather alerts, and enough common sense to keep Huck alive.
"Got your phone?" the reader asked.
Huck patted his pocket.
"Portable charger?"
Pat.
"Life jacket?"
Pat.
"Emergency contacts?"
Pat.
Jim smiled.
"He got all of it."
Michael still looked unconvinced.
"Huck."
"What?"
"If you do something stupid—"
"I won't."
"You absolutely will."
"Okay, probably."
Michael groaned.
The reader couldn't help smiling.
The entire summer Huck had been counting down to this trip. He and Jim had mapped routes, marked campsites, researched river conditions, and spent nearly every evening talking about adventures.
Now it was finally here.
Which made saying goodbye unexpectedly difficult.
The younger children had already hugged Huck at least three times.
Even Tom looked oddly emotional.
"Don't die," Tom ordered.
"That's your goodbye?"
"It's a good goodbye."
"It really ain't."
Tom pulled him into a quick hug anyway.
Huck immediately pretended it never happened.
Then he turned toward the reader.
His grin slipped.
The reader felt their own smile weaken.
For all his confidence, Huck was still young.
This was the longest he had ever been away from home.
A month.
Maybe two.
Long enough that suddenly the trip didn't seem quite as exciting.
"You got everything?" the reader asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
The reader stepped forward and hugged him.
Immediately.
Tightly.
Huck froze.
Then slowly hugged back.
The reader felt his arms tighten.
Just a little.
"Be careful."
"I will."
"Call."
"I will."
"Actually answer your phone."
"I'll try."
"Huck."
"Okay, okay. I will."
The reader laughed through suspiciously watery eyes.
When they pulled back, Huck noticed.
His expression softened.
"Hey."
"What?"
"I ain't leaving forever."
The reader laughed again.
"I know."
"I'll be back before you know it."
"That's what worries me."
That got a snort out of him.
Then Michael stepped forward.
Neither of them said anything for a second.
Michael simply looked at him.
Proud.
Concerned.
A little sad.
The way fathers often look when their children start becoming independent.
Even if Huck would loudly deny being anyone's child.
Finally Michael pulled him into a hug.
A real one.
Not one of the quick shoulder bumps they usually exchanged.
Huck looked surprised.
Then hugged him back.
Hard.
"Love you, kid."
The words came quietly.
Huck swallowed.
"Love you too."
Michael immediately pretended he wasn't emotional.
Unfortunately his red eyes ruined the act.
"Don't get arrested."
"That happened one time."
"It happened three times."
"The third one wasn't my fault."
"It absolutely was."
Jim laughed so hard he nearly dropped a duffel bag.
Huck rolled his eyes.
Then he looked around.
At his family.
At the home he was leaving for the first extended period of time.
At the people who loved him.
A lump formed in his throat.
He hated it.
Hated feeling emotional.
But it was there anyway.
The reader noticed.
"So," they said softly. "You ready?"
Huck took a deep breath.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
Jim loaded the last bag.
The truck door slammed.
The moment had arrived.
And suddenly everyone looked emotional again.
Even Tom.
Especially Tom.
"Don't write."
"You're supposed to say write."
"I know what I said."
Huck laughed.
Then climbed into the passenger seat.
Before Jim could start the engine, Huck rolled down the window.
The reader walked closer.
Michael stood beside them.
For a second nobody spoke.
Then Huck smiled.
The familiar crooked smile that always meant trouble.
"I'll be back."
The reader nodded.
Michael crossed his arms.
"You better."
"I will."
His smile softened.
"I promise."
The words settled over everyone.
Simple.
Certain.
A promise from someone who rarely made promises lightly.
The reader felt tears gather again.
This time they didn't bother hiding them.
Huck saw.
And his own eyes glistened for a moment.
Just for a moment.
Then he grinned.
Because that was easier.
"See you in a month."
"Maybe two," Jim corrected.
"Maybe two."
The truck started.
Slowly it pulled out of the driveway.
Everyone waved.
Huck leaned out the window, waving back until they disappeared down the road.
The reader stood beside Michael long after the truck was gone.
The driveway felt strangely empty.
Michael slipped an arm around their shoulders.
"You know he'll be fine."
"I know."
A pause.
"He'll probably come back with a dozen stories."
"A dozen?" Michael snorted. "Try fifty."
The reader laughed.
And somewhere miles away, heading toward the river with Jim beside him and a summer adventure ahead of him, Huck smiled.
Because for the first time in his life, leaving home wasn't scary.
Not when he knew exactly where home was.
And no matter how long the trip lasted—
one month or two—
he fully intended to come back.