Welcome Reluctant Stranger

by Evelyn Journey

  Leilani scowled, appalled. Why had she assumed Virgie had not heard about her father?

  If Virgie had noticed her reaction, she didn’t show it. “I didn’t think anything of it then. The story went away after a while. I think anyone who still remembers it probably thinks Dr. Torres escaped or was executed.”

  Leilani grimaced in pain. Executed? Is that what Costa Morans believed? She didn’t want her father dead. She wanted him to vindicate himself, or at least justify his actions. But to whom? Did anyone still care?

  She kept silent. Justin rose from his chair and took the one next to hers. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

  Virgie said, “Oh, Leilani, I’m sorry if I said something that hurt you. Actually, many people at that time, including my father, thought your father was a hero. That president had so many people killed, innocent people.”

  Justin said, “Can we go somewhere private? Let’s tell your relatives Leilani ate too much and needs to lie down.”

  Leilani made a face at him. But she was grateful. The gathering had become too oppressive, and she felt a need to explain her father’s actions to Virgie, but she couldn’t do so at the dinner table.

  Virgie led them to a guest bedroom. Once inside, Leilani and Justin sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’ll leave you to rest. Come out when you’re feeling better,” Virgie said.

  Leilani said, “Please stay. I want to tell you what I know about my father. I trust you to keep it a secret.”

  Virgie sat on the bed next to Leilani.

  Leilani hesitated. She turned to Justin, “Maybe you should tell her.”

  “No, you should. I’ll be here, if you need my help.”

  After another minute of hesitation, Leilani related all that her friend needed to know. Her father was alive. The new government, which had taken over, promised to release him, but never did. Across the years, the public probably forgot he was in prison. Someone recently got him out and, with his help, she and Justin were going to take him back with them as quietly as they could.

  Virgie didn’t say a word for some moments, her gaze fixed on Leilani’s face. She took Leilani’s hands in hers and said, “You’ve confirmed many rumors I used to hear of political prisoners from the old regime rotting in prison, forgotten, their families not informed of their fate. I don’t condemn the political prisoners because I’d never know what it’s like being in their shoes. We all try to live our individual lives and, for us, that’s all that matters.”

  “Thank you for saying that. My father was the most notorious of those prisoners and that’s agonized me more than anything ever has. Should I condemn him or forgive him?”

  “If your father was my father, would I condemn him? I don’t know. Could I forgive him? Yes, I think so. But it might take time.”

  Leilani gazed long at her friend, her mournful eyes asking for apology. Not only for her father, but also for herself. And not to Virgie, but to the country she left behind. A matter of conscience, Elise once said to her. Maybe, an apology would ease her conscience.

  Virgie said, “I may not understand what you’ve been through, but I want to show you I care. If I could help you in any way, I will. Just tell me.”

  Justin and Leilani looked at each other. Justin said, “Maybe you could help.”

  *****

  At the end of their second week in Costa Mora, Bernie handed Dr. Torres over to Justin and Leilani. She had tried, but was unable to imagine what meeting her father would be like. He had known she and Justin were coming.

  He sat on a wooden chair, waiting for them, a brown paper bag on his lap. In it was one change of clothes Bernie had given him.

  Leilani walked into the room, her steps hesitant. Justin followed a couple of paces behind.

  She stared at her father. He had put on more flesh and looked better, younger. That bit of flesh made enough of a difference to sink into her subconscious the old man who squinted at her on her cell phone screen. She could almost see in this less despairing face that young handsome man in the portrait she had in her office.

  He stood up when he saw her. The bag on his lap fell on the floor but he ignored it and approached her with open arms. Still weak, he tottered a little in his steps. He wound his arms around her in a long, tight embrace that left Leilani no choice but to embrace him back.

  He said, “I’d recognize you anywhere, my child.”

  How? Leilani thought. I was just a kid with a chubby face.

  But if Leilani still doubted that this man who held her was her father, she was reassured as she slowly picked up a scent he gave off. A distinct mix of soap and the slightly salty smell of drying sweat which, if mixed with hints of a specific aftershave, could only belong to the man on whose lap she sat as a child, while he read stories to his three children. She inhaled a little deeper and as she released her breath, she could see a room in their old house, filled with light, breeze blowing in through the open windows, and a little girl—herself—listening, mesmerized by her father’s voice. I wonder what’s happened to our house?

  She closed her eyes, reluctant for her memories to dissolve once more into nothingness. Tears rolled down her cheeks and this time, she knew they were tears of relief and gratitude.

  Whatever she might feel days, weeks, or months later, she was sure, at that moment, that this was the same tender loving man who told them stories and brought them treats. Her father. She wallowed in those memories.

  But not for too long. Right behind them, unbidden, came an image of the same man putting a gun in her hand. She shuddered and willed that image away, but before it vanished completely, she saw his eyes, sad and pleading.

  How, she thought, does one forgive when forgiveness is not sought? His eyes were pleading, not for forgiveness, but for understanding.

  And yet, I feel I must forgive him. Not for his sake, but for myself. A matter of conscience, yes. Mine.

  Forgive. The only thing she could do, to embrace a past that was once a disturbing mystery to her. She now saw that past clearly, and the most important part of it—her father’s role—would continue to trouble her. But she needed to accept it.

  There was more to that past. The country itself—as flawed as it was—including the friends and people who helped shape who she was. It was already a part of herself.

  She clung to her father and would not let him go. Some things she would never understand. But she would learn to accept that he did what he felt he had to do. And as horrific as it seemed to her, his intent still had been to save lives. She would start with the thought that he was never able to carry it out.

  She felt firm hands on her shoulders gently pulling her away from her father.

  Justin said, “Leilani, come, let your father sit down again.”

  She dropped her arms to her sides. Justin grasped her father’s arm and led him back to his chair.

  After her father sat down again, Justin introduced himself as Leilani’s husband. The old man smiled faintly and nodded.

  A long moment of silence ensued before he answered. “I thought you might be. So many years that passed me by. So many years I missed. I imagined them—all those years—my children as they grew up, my wife …. But not you, of course.” He smiled and extended his hand to Justin.

  Dr. Torres stayed with Virgie’s parents at their home on the green hills above the city. They welcomed him, honored to have him for a guest. In a secluded location where the nearest neighbor was a kilometer away, he could move more freely and spend a day outdoors when he wanted to.

  Three days later, Bernie met them for the last time to give them her father’s passport and visa, and a list of expenses that he had asked them to reimburse. Leilani handed him a sealed envelope with $15,000 in it, and paid him the sum for all other expenses he had incurred.

  Epilogue

  Leilani gazed at her father’s peaceful face. He was asleep on the seat between her and Justin. He seemed to have
thrived in the fresh, open air on the hills of Costa Mora, and was more energetic when she and Justin picked him up that morning for their flight to Hong Kong, the first leg of their trip back home.

  Soon after the plane took off from Costa Mora, her father said, “I saw General Huang at Bernie’s house, the day before I went with you to stay with the Bellos. I wanted tell you, but he asked me not to, until we’re in the air to America.”

  Leilani stared at her father, her mouth agape, before she said, “Did you say you saw General Huang?”

  Her father said, “Yes. He’d gone to America to live with a cousin. But he’s back.”

  “The General is in Costa Mora,” she and Justin said, at the same time.

  “Yes, he said he didn’t like America.”

  She scowled. “Are you also saying General Huang and Bernie Tanteo know each other?”

  “Yes. Bernie was an aide to Huang before we went to prison. He was also in prison, but got out after five years. Huang and I were released together.”

  Leilani said, “What do you mean released together? Didn’t you escape?”

  “No. We walked out. They released us. The prison had more inmates than they could hold. Maybe, they thought we were no longer dangerous because we’d become old and weak. Every one of us charged in the assassination plot twenty years ago finally got out. Nine, in all. Ten, including Bernie. The others died or were killed long ago.”

  Justin said, “Well, what do you know?”

  Her father said, “I thought it was strange they asked me to wait to tell you about our release, but I owe them so much that I went along with it. I could have died outside of prison, if they didn’t help me. I hope I’ve thanked Huang enough.”

  “I’m sure you have,” Leilani said lamely.

  “When he left for America, he offered to visit your Mamá, out of the goodness of his heart, to tell her I’m alive. If not for him, I wouldn’t be on this plane with you.”

  She and Justin looked at each other. As if by mutual agreement, neither said anything more. During the layover in Hong Kong, they left her father in the waiting room, under the pretext that they needed to stretch their legs.

  Justin said, “No wonder those two looked shifty-eyed. They weren’t being straight with us.”

  She said, “I don’t know what they’re at. Papá doesn’t know we practically paid ransom for him.”

  “And quite likely, not only to Bernie Tanteo, but to General Huang, too.”

  “Ugh, we’ve been duped.”

  “Are you going to tell your father?”

  “I don’t know. He thinks he owes them his life and his family.”

  “In a way, he does. Granted, you paid money for it.”

  “Yes, but how could those two have been so devious?”

  “Well, General Huang wasted twenty years in prison, has no job. He needs the money and, maybe, Bernie helped him get it.”

  “You think he’s behind all this.”

  “I’d bet my bottom dollar.”

  “Ugh,” she said, burying her face on his chest.

  Justin wrapped an arm around her and said, “Your father is back with you, after all these years not knowing if he’s dead or alive. Think about it—$15,000 is a small price to pay for that.”

  Her father had slept through most of the flight to Hong Kong. Now, on the second leg, they were a quarter hour away from landing at the Oakland airport.

  More than an hour later, Justin, Leilani and her father emerged from the processing at Customs. They saw Rudy, Carmen and their families waiting in the area for arrivals. Rudy rushed toward them to explain that their mother, who had been preparing for their arrival, had a headache and couldn’t come. She was waiting at her home for all of them.

  Their father nodded and said, “What’s another half-hour or more?”

  Rudy introduced his father to each member of the big extended family he had acquired and never knew all those years in prison. He looked dazed, but endured hugs and kisses from everyone, with a smile on his face.

  After the last grandchild, he said resolutely, “Now, take me to my wife.”

  *****

  Leilani set the bag of sandwiches on the dining table. She had picked them up from the deli two blocks away. Justin should be home any minute now. Usually, she came home after him, into a warm, homey place redolent with the delicious aromas of the dinner he was preparing. But that afternoon, she had gone to see the doctor and was home an hour earlier.

  They came back from Costa Mora with her father two weeks before, and she had moved into the penthouse upon their return. They had both been busy catching up on work that had piled up while they were gone and they had been bringing some unfinished tasks home. She had had to see more clients than usual—two or three of whom suffered a little setback while she was away. She had psych reports to write that evening.

  She walked to the large view window and watched the city down below. Daylight was waning and soon, the city would turn into silhouettes outlined by glimmering yellow lights. Several stories high, in a well-insulated room, she couldn’t hear the din of commuter traffic on the streets below. This evening, all seemed right with her world.

  She heard the lock on the door turn, and she went to the door to greet Justin. He smiled broadly when he saw her.

  “How wonderful to find you home to welcome me.” He took her in his arms and kissed her.

  “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “No, but I can tell you about it after we’ve had a quick dinner. I got us sandwiches from the deli.”

  “Tired of my cooking?”

  “No, I thought we could eat and cuddle up on the couch before we do catch-up work.”

  “I’m all for that. Why don’t we eat and start cuddling up on the couch right now?”

  He tossed his messenger bag on a chair and swiped the bag of sandwiches from the dining table. Leilani followed him to the couch.

  Half an hour later, she lifted her head from Justin’s shoulder. “I’ve something to tell you.”

  “About your doctor’s visit?”

  She nodded, took Justin’s hand in hers and placed it palm down on her stomach. She said, “You feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “Focus. Close your eyes if you need to.”

  “Your tummy isn’t rumbling.”

  “What’s the next thing you wanted, after me, of course?”

  “No. You mean ….” Justin was incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head.

  He looked at her for a long moment, searching her eyes, his mouth widening into a smile and then joyous laughter. “I’m going to be a … how do you call your father?”

  “Papá. Accent on the last syllable.” She said, laughing with him.

  “Papá. Papá, Papá. When?”

  “In eight months.”

  That night, Justin was too excited to work and Leilani decided to put off writing her reports. She could work on them between sessions with her clients.

  Sometime during the night, Justin rang up Greg and Elise’s house. Greg answered.

  “This better be good, little brother. I’m in the middle of a tryst with my wife. We’re catching up on a few weeks of starvation.”

  Justin said, “You could have ignored this call.”

  “Oh, yeah? You call at 10:30 at night, an ungodly hour for casual or friendly phone calls, and you expect me to ignore it? Naturally, we assumed this had to be important.”

  “Well, it is. We’re having a baby.”

  There was a moment of silence at Greg’s end. Then, he said, “Your little sister says, ‘Congratulations and it’s about time. We’re truly and sincerely thrilled. I owe you a bottle of the best champagne. Now, can we get back to what we were doing?”

  Mrs. Torres cried over the phone when Leilani told her she was pregnant. She spent about a quarter hour afterwards telling her wh
at to expect in her pregnancy and how to care for a new baby.

  Leilani listened patiently. When her mother finished giving advice, Leilani asked how her father was, a question that had become routine since she and Justin came back with her father. Her mother, restrained in her joy and quieter than Leilani was used to, had always answered that everything was fine and moving along.

  Leilani suspected that she was too distressed about the state her father was in. When her mother first saw him, she embraced him tight, burst into tears, and couldn’t stop crying for about ten minutes. Later she whispered to Leilani, her tears flowing again, that his homecoming was like coming back from the dead.

  This time, Mrs. Torres sounded more upbeat. She said, “Three more months and he’d weigh what he did when he was in his mid-thirties.”

  “Have you been weighing him every day?”

  “Of course, I want him healthy and back to normal. He’s also sleeping a lot.”

  Leilani asked a question she didn’t have the heart to ask earlier. “How does it feel having him home?”

  “Great. Unbelievable feeling. I used to say he was still alive when we had no evidence of it. I confess I didn’t really believe it. Now, I sometimes sit, watching him sleep, eat, read. He refuses to watch television.”

  “Do you think he’s adjusting well to his new home?”

  “He thinks he’s in paradise. He doesn’t talk much about prison and he asked me not ask him about it.”

  “Does it matter anymore? It’s past and we should move on.”

  “You’re right. But you know what’s odd? General Huang hasn’t visited your Papá.”

  Leilani was taken aback. For reasons she could only guess, her father had not told her mother that General Huang was back in Costa Mora.

  She said, “It sure is. He and Papá had a shared history, the kind that binds people forever. I would’ve thought he’d visit often.”

  “Well, maybe he’s giving us time to be together by ourselves for a while.”

  “Maybe, that’s it.”

  *****

  Leilani uncovered the mystery of General Huang from a long email she received from Virgie, two months later. Virgie attached two scanned newspaper articles.