Jamison and I laughed at Selah’s combination of our names.
“My father was a clown in the circus,” Selah said.
I chuckled. “I thought he was a famous magician and author.”
“That too.”
While Jamison was paying for Jameo, Selah tugged at my arm. She pointed to the picture booth. “Can we?”
“Sure.” I waved for Jamison, and we sat in the booth with Selah between us. We made silly faces for each shot. After the pictures slid out of the dispenser, we selected our favorite, and Jamison purchased a small frame for it. Once he mounted the photo inside, he presented it to Selah.
She said, “I’ll keep this on my night table to look at before I go to sleep at night, and first thing when I wake up.”
After walking Selah back to her apartment, we again asked her to wish Grace a speedy recovery, and we made plans to have dinner with Selah again the next evening.
Getting back to our log cabin, Jamison and I shared a giggle at Kendall’s empty room—assuming he was continuing his war of the roses with Phoenix. After getting ready for bed, we snuggled under the silk sheet.
Jamison said, “I’m glad we met Selah.”
I agreed. “I miss her when we aren’t together.”
“Me too.” Jamison kissed my neck. “I hope Grace gets better soon.”
“I wish we knew what was wrong with her.”
“I’m sure Grace will tell us if she wants us to know.”
“In the meantime, Holmes, you and I have an appointment.”
“Elementary, my dear Watson. The game is afoot!”
I took in Jamison’s woodsy scent. After sharing an intoxicating kiss, we made sweet love with the moonlight cradling us in its arms.
Chapter Seven
JAMISON AND I were in his car early the next morning continuing our quest to find Armando Caro. We looked respectable in dress shirts, sweater vests, and slacks. Munching on the restaurant’s whole wheat apple popovers, we listened to music and a short audiobook before finally arriving in Altoona. Passing the popular sites, I found myself again thinking about Selah and missing her. “Selah would like Lakemont Park.”
Jamison added, “And the Railroad Memorial Museum.”
When the GPS guided us to our destination, Jamison parked the car, and we stretched our stiff legs and backs. The Caros lived in a middle-class neighborhood in a modest home at the end of the block. After we climbed the concrete stairs to the front door, I rang the bell. We identified ourselves, and a middle-aged, buxom woman in a plain housedress led us into a small living room full of worn furniture. A tall elderly man with white hair sat on the sofa. His thin body seemed to disappear inside a bulky gray sweater and baggy pants. An oxygen tube lined his nose, and a portable tank rested at his side.
The woman said, “I’m Natalia Caro. This is my father, Gonzalo. Please have a seat.”
Jamison and I sat across from the sofa on wobbly armchairs. Natalia rested next to her father, covering his knees with a patchwork quilt.
“Thank you for seeing us,” I said.
Cutting to the chase, Natalia asked, “You have information about my brother?”
“Actually, we were hoping you could give us some information about Armando,” I said.
“Do you know my brother?”
Jamison explained, “We own the Nolan Giorgio’s Resort in the Poconos. Our head manager, Asher Hillel, served with your brother in the Navy for many years.”
Natalia’s spine became rigid, and her tone icy. “Armando told me about him.”
I nodded. “Since Armando and Asher were… close back then, though a great deal of time has gone by, Asher would very much like to see Armando again. Actually, it’s become somewhat of an obsession for Asher.”
Natalia folded her arms over her chest. “Well that’s rich.”
Her father’s voice was thin. “Calm down, Natalia.”
“I will not calm down.” She glared at Gonzalo. “That man destroyed Armando’s life!”
“Asher destroyed Armando’s life?” I asked.
She tsked. “I’m not surprised your manager didn’t tell you about that.”
Gonzalo chastised her. “We shouldn’t speak against someone who isn’t here.”
“Asher certainly spoke against Armando when my brother wasn’t there!”
I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Are you saying it was Asher who gave Armando’s name to the Naval investigators in 2004?”
“Of course.” Her dark eyes hardened. “And my brother was kicked out of the military. The Navy asked, and your manager told—on my brother.”
“Where did you hear this?” Jamison asked her.
“From my brother.” She softened. “We were always close.” Turning to her father, she said, “Weren’t we, Papa?”
He nodded.
“And Armando sent me letters from the Navy—one a week. I was teaching grade school in Reading back then. I’d bring them into my class and read them to the students so they could learn about the life of a sailor in the Navy.” Her fists clenched. “But that last letter, I wouldn’t show to anyone.”
Jamison asked, “Armando wrote to you saying Asher Hillel had given Armando’s name to the Navy in their witch-hunt to discharge gay servicepeople?”
She snapped her fingers. “And just like that my brother was questioned and then separated from service—losing his health benefits, pension, and dignity. He was a successful sailor for eight years in the Navy. Your manager told someone Armando’s sexual orientation, and my brother was suddenly ‘incompatible with military service!’ When my brother returned to Reading, where we grew up, Armando couldn’t find employment.”
“He got the job in the real estate office in Reading,” Gonzalo offered.
Natalia gestured toward us. “Then your friend Oliver hired Armando at Edington Department Store in Allentown. At the same time, my father got a job as the head mechanic for a motorcycle manufacturing company here in Altoona. I transferred schools to be with him. All of our lives had finally turned around. I danced at my brother’s wedding.”
Jamison explained, “Oliver isn’t our friend. We just met him yesterday. He was nice enough to give us your contact information.”
“Nice indeed! Oliver is a terrific guy.” Natalia ran a hand through her long, dark hair. “But Armando didn’t appreciate him. My brother was still pining away for your manager—the man who destroyed Armando’s career in the Navy! It broke Oliver’s heart and ended their marriage.”
I explained, “Natalia, there’s been a misunderstanding. We really need to speak with Armando. Can you please give us his phone number?”
The lines on her face deepened. “I don’t have it.”
“I thought you and your brother were close.”
“Were being the operative word.” Natalia blinked back tears. “After Armando told me about the divorce, I laid into him for losing a great guy like Oliver. Afterward, I felt guilty. I called his cell phone number, but it was no longer registered to Armando. Oliver didn’t know how to reach Armando either.”
Jamison said, “You haven’t spoken to your brother in two years?”
Natalia nodded. “That’s why I was hopeful when you called. I thought you might be able to lead us to Armando.”
I gestured toward Gonzalo. “Doesn’t Armando visit his father?”
Gonzalo replied, “Armando and I had a falling out after he was discharged from the Navy. When I heard the news, I told him… well, you can imagine what I said.” He cringed in recollection.
“You took the Navy’s side?” I asked.
Gonzalo hung his head. “I called my son an abomination, quoting something written two thousand years ago in another language about another time and place. Ignoring the lines in the Bible before and after that, which labeled just about everything I do an abomination as well.” Tears brimmed his sad eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Natalia took his hand. “We all made mistakes.”
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I asked him, “You haven’t spoken to your son since he was discharged from the Navy?”
“We shared words over the years, but not much else. My shame and Armando’s anger didn’t make for a close father-son relationship.”
Natalia added, “Armando doesn’t know about my father’s lung cancer.”
I said, “If we find Armando, we’ll ask him to contact you.”
“Thank you.” Gonzalo wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “I would like that.”
Jamison asked them, “Do you have any idea where Armando might be? What he could be doing for work?”
Natalia replied, “Armando received a large financial settlement after the divorce.”
“Do you think he went on an extended trip somewhere?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Armando didn’t enjoy traveling.”
Gonzalo offered, “Armando always said he’d like to open his own business one day.”
Asher had recalled that about Armando as well. “Did Armando ever mention the type of business? Was it a gymnasium?”
Natalia offered, “Armando was passionate about solar and wind energy saving the planet. If he opened a business, it could be something in that field.”
Gonzalo added, “Armando would love that. And he’d be good at it too.”
“That’s helpful,” I said.
“If you make contact with Armando, tell him his sister is sorry.”
“And his father feels like an old fool.”
We thanked Natalia and Gonzalo for their time and candidness, wished them well, and left Altoona. On the drive back, I said to Jamison, “So Asher believes Armando gave his name to the Navy investigators, and Armando thinks Asher gave his. That explains why neither Armando nor Asher attempted to contact each other over the years.”
As we entered a highway, Jamison picked up speed. “Armando hasn’t spoken to his father, sister, or ex-husband in two years. What’s he been doing?”
“What do you think of Natalia’s theory that Armando started a solar and wind energy company?”
“Could be.”
It hit me like a windmill. “That’s it!” I yanked the phone out of my pocket and searched through my messages. “I think I know why the name Armando Caro sounds so familiar.” I read from the screen. “Armando Caro Wind and Solar. He’s left five phone messages for me! Jamison, I may have had Armando’s phone number all this time!”
“Phone him and see if he’s our Armando Caro.”
I had already punched the number and put the phone on speaker.
“Armando Caro.”
“Hello, this is Theo Stratis.”
“The new owner of Nolan Giorgio’s! I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I apologize for not returning your calls sooner.”
“I’m glad you did now. I’d really like to talk with you about your resort converting to wind and solar energy. It’s more affordable and reliable than you might think, and terrific for the environment.”
“I’ll admit it’s something my husband and I have considered.”
“Great! I’m the guy to answer all your questions.”
Glancing at Jamison, I said, “You come recommended.”
“By whom?”
I held my breath. “Gonzalo Caro of Altoona.”
After a pause, he said, “He’s my father.”
Jamison and I gave each other a thumbs-up.
Armando asked, “How do you know him?”
“Where are you located?”
He replied, “About a half hour’s drive from your resort.”
“Can you meet with us in our administrative offices at four this afternoon?”
“I’ll rework my schedule.”
“Great. We’ll explain everything then.”
After I disconnected the phone, I turned to Jamison. “We found Armando Caro!”
“Hallelujah!”
We stopped at a bistro for lunch to celebrate. When we returned to our log cabin, we found Selah at the front door. She looked cute in a canary blouse and jeans.
I asked her, “What’s wrong?”
Jamison spoke over me. “Where’s your mother?”
“She wants to see you guys.”
“Is your mom all right?” I asked.
Selah replied, “She’s in bed.”
“And your mom sent you over here by yourself?” Jamison asked.
Selah nodded.
We each took her hand and walked briskly to the third floor of the employees’ living quarters. Selah opened the door and led us inside the small apartment. We followed her through the living room laden with clothes, food containers, and papers piled on modest furniture. After Selah brought us into her small bedroom, Jamison pointed to our framed picture on the tiny night table, and the three of us shared a smile.
“Honey?” We heard Grace’s voice from the next room.
Selah took us inside.
Grace sat on the bed, her head resting against a knotted wooden headboard. A cloudy glass and medicine containers rested on the night table. “Thank you for coming.”
I noticed the dark circles under her eyes.
Selah pointed to the stuffed elephant on the worn bureau. “Jameo misses you guys.”
Jamison and I waved to our namesake.
Then I said to Grace, “Selah told us you’ve been ill.”
Jamison added, “Do you need more sick days? Help with Selah? Meals from the restaurant? Housekeeping to help clean up?”
She asked Selah, “Honey, would you like to work on your letter to Theo and Jamison?”
Selah nodded. Then she turned to us, “I think you’re going to like it.”
After Selah disappeared into her room, Grace clutched at her closed robe. “It’s a thank-you letter for all you’ve done for Selah the last few days.”
I said, “You didn’t need to ask Selah to do that.”
“It was her idea.” Grace produced a waxen smile. “She’s grown quite attached to you two in a very short time.”
“We’re equally smitten,” Jamison said.
I couldn’t help asking, “Grace, is your illness serious?”
She nodded.
Jamison and I shared a worried glance. He asked, “Does Selah know?”
“I try to hide it, but as you see, Selah’s a very smart little girl.” Grace sighed. “And I haven’t been well for a while. Selah has watched me leave for doctor visits, get somewhat better, and then feel much worse. And the cycle continues.” She flinched, holding her stomach. After swallowing a pill, she said, “The pain has been manageable—until lately.”
Jamison beat me to it. “Would you like to tell us what’s wrong?”
“Given the circumstances, I suppose I should.” She spoke softly but firmly. “I have ovarian cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.” I sat at the edge of her bed.
Jamison joined me on the other side. “Are you undergoing treatment?”
She nodded. “For quite a while. At first it seemed promising. Now, not so much.”
I asked, “Are there any trials or experimental drugs—?”
“Been there, done that.”
Jamison asked, “What did your doctor say about your prognosis?”
Grace blinked back tears. “That I would soon be taking a turn for the worse.” She held her stomach. “He was right about that.” She added, “The restaurant manager has been understanding. If I can’t return to work, I’ll move out of the apartment.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Don’t worry about working.” I reached for her hand. It was ice cold. “You shouldn’t be facing this alone.”
A tear brimmed in her eye. “Actually, the time alone has helped me work through some things.” She smiled weakly. “They’re right about going through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally numbing acceptance—all laced with a heavy helping of fear.”
“Are you seeing a therapist?” Jamison asked.
“I’m not concerned about myself.” The
tear slid down her cheek. “I’m worried about Selah. I haven’t told her I’ll need to enter the hospital… or hospice soon, but she suspects things will change.”
“How do you know?”
Grace’s voice quivered. “Selah mentioned her uncle in heaven. She asked me if I miss my brother, and she wondered if I’d like to see him again.”
Jamison took her other hand. “What can we do for you?”
She chuckled ironically. “You won’t believe what I’m going to say.”
“Try us.”
“We want to help you in any way possible,” I said. “Do you need money, a bigger place to stay, a nurse—”
She shook her head. “I’m only concerned about Selah.”
Jamison asked, “Would you like us to call a family member to come and take care of Selah?”
Grace took in a shallow breath. “There isn’t anyone.”
“Can we contact your minister?” I asked.
“Reverend Gertrude has been a rock for me, but she has a church to run. Most of the congregants are struggling to raise children of their own, or they’re too elderly to care for a child.”
Jamison said, “Isn’t it premature to think about this?”
Grace stared at Jamison. “No, it isn’t.”
I asked, “Have you contacted social services?”
“I don’t want that for Selah.” Grace sighed. “If my brother were alive….” She let go of our hands to wipe her face with a tissue.
“What would you like us to do?” Jamison said.
Grace replied, “You mentioned applying to adopt a child.”
“That’s right.”
“We haven’t had any interviews yet,” I explained.
She said, “Well, you have one now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do.” Grace glanced from Jamison to me. “Selah adores you. And you both seem to return her affection.”
“We do.”
“Of course we’ve only known each other a short time. I’m sure you think I’ve lost my mind. Perhaps I have, along with everything else.” She ran a hand through her knotted hair. “Given the circumstances, I’m just going to come right out and say this. Would you consider adopting Selah?”
I felt as if someone had hit me in the stomach. Jamison seemed equally in shock.
Finding Armando (Found At Last Book 2) Page 10