The Way Back to You

by Sharon Sala

  Tina patted his arm. “The four of us have already talked. We’re saying nothing about this to anyone. This will be your story to tell or not to tell. We just wanted you to know.”

  He was too emotional to answer and could only nod.

  After family night was over, David and Linda drove back together in her car, and Marc followed. All he could think about was leaving for home as soon as the funeral was over. He needed to be back in his office with all the tools of research at his disposal. It should be easier to find his son than to find Janie. But life being what it was, easy wasn’t often part of the answer.

  He went to bed that night and dreamed of Janie calling his name. He could hear her, but she couldn’t hear him answer. And then the dream morphed to a little boy growing up and wondering what was wrong with him, and why had he been given away.

  It was all Marc could do to get through the funeral. When it was over, he said his goodbyes without attending the dinner afterward and drove straight home with a fire in his gut.

  He’d taken pictures all over the world of children in the midst of war. And of women who’d survived brutal rape and capture in war-torn countries and had given birth to their rapists’ children.

  He’d done a whole series on children orphaned or separated from their parents by natural disasters. And now, to learn he had a child in this world who did not know him was the worst of sins.

  It was nearing sundown by the time he reached Springfield, and all he could think about was beginning his search. But the project for Nat Geo wasn’t finished.

  He’d never failed to deliver a job. He’d never been late with a project. But he’d failed terribly as a man, and that was not to be borne. He wasn’t backing off on his search. Not even for one day. If he had to, he’d finish the project on the move.

  He kept thinking of Janie and what she must have endured alone. And the son who did not know the bloodline of his ancestors. In reality, they might have worked out all their issues years ago and might be perfectly happy with where they were now, but this was new to Marc, and the horror of it was real.

  He threw his luggage on the floor of his bedroom and headed for the office. He’d acquired a few hacking skills over the years. Nothing worth doing time for, but he was able to find his way around the World Wide Web with alacrity.

  The first thing he did was start a search for Joe and Dolly Raines of Kansas City, Missouri. He found them and their address through property records, and after further searching came up with their occupations and the mention of one child named John Sullivan, age five.

  So now he needed to find a John Sullivan Raines, around forty-five or so years old, who was born in Kansas City, Missouri.

  Instead, he found a death notice for Joseph Frederick Raines, listing survivors as his wife, Dolly, and one son, Sullivan Raines, also of Kansas City, Missouri.

  Marc paused, staring at the name. It didn’t seem real. He needed a face to go with it, so he kept digging.

  Then he found a very recent death notice for Dolly Raines. The only surviving member of the family was a son, Sullivan Raines, with no wife or children listed. Marc frowned. His son’s life was eerily similar to the life he had been living. He had not put down roots with a family, so what the hell had his son been doing with his life?

  It wasn’t until he ran a search on the name Sullivan Raines that he began to get hits on the same subject matter and finally came to the realization that his son was a fireman. That sent his search in a whole other direction, as he began looking through Kansas City newspapers for mention of him. He found one very poor photo showing a fireman in full gear carrying out a victim of an apartment fire. The photographer had attributed the rescue to a Fireman Raines and mentioned the station he was from, but Marc still didn’t have a photo of his face.

  And then he found a notice about Sully Raines retiring after twenty-six years of service, which surprised him. Sully must have joined the fire department straight out of high school.

  But it wasn’t until he found a photo of the retirement ceremony that he finally saw his son’s face. It was a blow to the heart to see his face on a stranger. The thick, black hair like Marc’s used to be. The dark eyes like his. The slight hook on the bridge of his nose. The classic shape of a very Mediterranean face. An Adamos face.

  He stared at the picture until his vision blurred, and then he covered his face and wept.

  Chapter 19

  Marc’s dreams that night were nightmares. He woke up the next morning with a heavy heart, but as he was making coffee, it dawned on him that he might be able to contact his son through the fire department where he used to work.

  After a short search to find the phone number of the station, Marc made the call.

  “Station Twelve, this is Rick.”

  “Rick, my name is Marc Adamos. I’m trying to locate Sully Raines.”

  “He doesn’t work here anymore,” Rick said.

  Marc frowned. He wasn’t giving up this easy. “I’m Sullivan Raines’s birth father, and I’m trying to find him. By any chance do you have a contact number for him?”

  “The Sully Raines I know wasn’t adopted, or at least he never said anything about it.”

  Marc frowned. “Maybe he didn’t know. I just found out that I had a son. Could you at least give him my phone number? Then if he chooses, he could call me.”

  “I guess I could do that,” Rick said.

  Marc gave him the number to his cell and his address.

  “Okay, got it,” Rick said. “I’ll send him a text, but I don’t know where he is right now. He’s traveling.”

  At that moment, Marc heard the alarms going off inside the station.

  “Sorry, mister. We’ve got a call. Gotta go,” Rick said. He disconnected, dropped the note pad with the number on the chief’s desk, and ran.

  “I appreciate anything you can do,” Marc said, but the man had already hung up.

  Marc disconnected and put some bread in to toast. Right now, he’d done all he could do, and in the meantime he had to finish this project for Nat Geo.

  He pulled out the notes he’d made about follow-up trips and decided to revisit the Georgia locations first. That dramatic rescue using the bulldozer for transportation was nothing short of heroic. He wanted to interview this man, Johnny Pine, and he needed a picture of the woman Johnny had saved. Maybe he’d find something interesting about the story that played into how natural disasters changed the landscape of countries and the landscape of lives in the people who inhabited them.

  When the toast popped up, Marc covered it with peanut butter and jelly and ate as he worked, looking for the exact location of Blessings, Georgia, and the kind of motels available for travelers.

  Once he’d located Blessings on the map, he googled motels and got two hits. One was a small motel; the other was a very inviting bed-and-breakfast. He called the B and B and made a reservation, after estimating how long it would take him to get there, then finished his PB&J and went to pack.

  He was going to overnight in Nashville and then drive on to Blessings the next day.

  He made it to Nashville without incident. Exhausted from a drive of over eight hours, he stopped at a La Quinta Inn and got a room. He showered and crawled into bed, then for the first time in ages, forgot to set his alarm.

  When he woke and saw that it was almost noon, he groaned, got up and showered and shaved, ate a quick lunch in the motel café, and continued southeast.

  He drove into rain just as he crossed the border into Georgia, then drove by a wreck that blocked traffic for almost two hours before motorists were allowed to proceed. At that point, he called the B and B to let them know his arrival was going to be delayed. The nice woman who answered assured him that it was no problem and told him to travel safe.

  He stopped once after that to refuel and then drove through intermittent thunderstorms the rest of th
e way.

  * * *

  It was just after 11:00 p.m. when headlights flashed across the front windows of the Blessings Bed and Breakfast. It had been raining for hours, but the lights were on outside in the parking lot and along the walkway to the entrance, as well as inside the front lobby.

  Bud and Rachel’s late check-in had finally arrived. They saw him run up to the porch, then pause to shake the rain off his jacket and run his hands through his hair. When he came in carrying a bag, they were at the door to greet him.

  “Mr. Adamos?” Bud asked.

  “Yes, and call me Marc,” he said. “Thank you for staying open for me. I apologize for the late arrival.”

  “Not a problem. We’re glad to have you,” Rachel said as she introduced herself and Bud, then began explaining the B and B’s schedule as Marc registered.

  “The kitchen is closed, but if you didn’t get a chance to have dinner, I can bring up a tray of fruit and cheese, and some toasted baguettes—homemade, of course.”

  “I did not take time to stop and eat, and that offer is much appreciated.”

  “A bottle of wine perhaps, or would you prefer something else?” Bud asked.

  “A glass of wine would suffice,” Marc said.

  “I’ll get the tray, and Bud will show you to your room. We have other guests, and they may already be asleep,” Rachel added.

  “I will take care to be quiet,” Marc said, then picked up his bag and followed Bud up the stairs.

  Bud took him to the last room on the right at the end of the hall, and Rachel followed a few minutes later with his food. Ignoring the suitcase he had yet to unpack, Marc sat down at a little table with his tray of fruit and cheese, put a slice of smoked Gouda on a still warm, toasty baguette, and turned on the TV, making sure to keep the volume low.

  He hadn’t seen or heard much in the way of news since he left Springfield, so he turned the TV on to CNN. His feet were up. The tray of food was in his lap, and the glass of wine on the table at his elbow.

  This was as relaxed as he’d been through the whole trip. Tomorrow he’d check at the police station for the whereabouts of Johnny Pine and find out about the lady Pine had rescued, along with the identities of the two orderlies who’d helped get the woman into the hospital. Just the thought of a new piece to add to his story was exciting.

  It was nearing half past one in the morning when he finally crawled into bed. This time, he set his alarm so that he wouldn’t miss breakfast and then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  When the alarm went off the next morning, Marc was up in a flash. He showered and shaved, then dressed casually for the day, choosing a pair of navy slacks and a long-sleeved light-blue polo shirt to go with a pair of black loafers.

  He came down the stairs, sidestepping three elderly ladies at the desk who were settling their bill.

  “Enjoy your breakfast. It’s buffet-style,” Bud said as Marc walked past.

  “Thanks,” Marc said, and walked into the dining room and picked up a plate.

  This was a much more enticing menu than the honey bun and coffee he’d had yesterday. When he had what he wanted to eat, he carried his plate to an empty table and was sitting down as Rachel came in from the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Mr. Adamos. Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.

  Marc smiled. “No, ma’am. This looks and smells amazing.”

  Rachel beamed. “Enjoy,” she said, and went back into the kitchen.

  Marc was already planning the morning as he ate. First stop was the local police to find out how to contact Johnny Pine and Lovey Cooper. Marc was also thinking about the man at the fire station, and if he had given Sully his number. He didn’t want to consider it, but there was always the chance that his son wouldn’t be interested in meeting him. He let the thought go. No need worrying about something that might never happen, so he settled down to enjoy the food.

  The best-laid plans are often sidetracked, and such was Marc’s morning. He had just finished breakfast when he got a call from his boss at Nat Geo. To answer the questions his boss wanted, Marc had to go back to his room and boot up his laptop, send the information in an email attachment, and then wait to make sure that was all the boss needed. By the time that message came, it was half past 10:00 a.m.

  Marc left the B and B and drove back to Main Street, then all the way down to the PD where he parked and got out. After last night’s downpour, the air smelled fresh and clean.

  There was a man at the front desk with a panel of radio equipment behind him. Whatever else his job entailed, it appeared he was also the dispatcher. Marc walked up to the desk.

  “My name is Marc Adamos. By any chance is your police chief here?”

  Avery curiously eyed the tall, gray-haired stranger.

  “He’s on his way back now, if you care to wait.”

  “Yes, I’ll wait, but maybe in the meantime you could answer a couple of questions,” Marc said.

  He pulled out his ID as well as one of his business cards and a copy of the photo that had brought him here. “I work for National Geographic as a photojournalist and a documentarian. This picture came off the AP wire service, along with a brief description of the story behind it. I know the young man’s name is Johnny Pine. I was hoping to interview him and the woman he helped save and include the film in a documentary I’m working on.”

  Avery’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir! Johnny pulled off quite a rescue there and saved Lovey Cooper’s life. She runs Granny’s Country Kitchen up at the other end of Main. She was hurt real bad, but she’s back at work now.”

  “I would like to contact the both of them for an interview, but I understand about protecting people’s privacy. Maybe you could contact Johnny Pine and tell him why I’m here, and see if he’d be interested in doing an interview.”

  Before Avery could answer, Lon Pittman walked into the lobby from the hall.

  “Oh, Chief! I didn’t know you were back,” Avery said. “This gentleman was wanting to talk to you. Here’s his info.”

  “I just got here,” Lon said as he glanced at the ID and the business card, and then recognized a picture that had run in the first issue of the local paper after power was restored. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I’m Marc Adamos,” he said and reiterated his reason for being in Blessings.

  “We’re a fan of Nat Geo documentaries in my house. I can only imagine the things you’ve seen in this world,” Lon said.

  “Many things. Some beautiful and amazing. Some unbelievably horrifying. Man and nature are often at odds. That’s the focus of the piece I’m working on now.”

  “I can find out where Johnny’s working,” Lon said. “Avery, what’s the number to Pine Dozer Service?”

  Avery pulled up Google Search. “I’ve got it, Chief. Want me to dial the number for you, or do you want to take it in your office?”

  “Give me the number,” Lon said. “I’ll call him right here.” He made the call and waited for an answer, knowing Johnny’s wife, Dori, usually answered the phone for the business.

  “Pine Dozer Service,” Dori said.

  “Dori, this is Chief Pittman. Nothing’s wrong, but I have a guy here wanting to talk to Johnny, and I wondered where he was working today.”

  “He’s not at work today. Beep got sick in the night, and Johnny took him to the doctor this morning. They just got back. Hang on a minute, and I’ll put him on the phone.”

  “Thanks,” Lon said, then glanced at Marc. “He’s coming to the phone.”

  Marc loved it when plans fell into place. He stood and listened to the chief explaining the reason for the call.

  “He’d be happy to talk to you,” Lon said as he disconnected. “He said he could meet you at Granny’s in about ten minutes. That way you can meet him and Lovey at the same time.”


  “That’s awesome,” Marc said, then shook Lon’s hand. “I really appreciate this.”

  “Sure,” Lon said. “And here are your photo and ID. Glad we could help.”

  Marc left the station and headed to Granny’s. He’d already seen it on the way to the PD, so no searching was involved. The parking lot was more than half empty as he pulled up and parked, then wasted no time going inside.

  A young, muscular man was sitting on the bench in the lobby, and when Marc walked in, he stood.

  “Mr. Adamos?”

  “Yes,” Marc said. “Are you Johnny Pine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Johnny, I need to shake your hand. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but nothing that exceeds the photo I saw of you perched on the side of that giant dozer in hurricane-force winds with that woman in your arms.”

  Johnny shrugged. “You do what you have to do in life. Lovey matters to all of us, and Granny’s is the heart of Blessings.”

  “You’re still a hero in my book, which brings me to why I’m in Blessings. I want to include you and Lovey in my film. It’s the last documentary I’ll be doing for Nat Geo, and I will be retiring after it’s turned in. I just wanted to meet you, get a feel for the story, and see if you and Lovey would be willing to participate. If so, we can set up another time when the two of you would be available to talk, and I could get some updated photos to prove you both survived. Also, maybe get a bit of info from the two hospital employees who helped you get her down from the dozer.”

  Johnny grinned. “Yes, sir. I’d be honored. I think Lovey will agree, but I can’t speak for her.” He handed Marc his card. “This has my cell number on it. Just let me know a day ahead of when you want to do this, so I’m not out on a job somewhere.”

  “Will do,” Marc said. “I’ll be in touch. Now how do I go about finding Lovey?”

  “Just wait at the counter. She should be back any minute.”

  “Got it, and thank you for agreeing to do this,” Marc said.

  “Sure thing,” Johnny said. “See you soon.”

  Marc walked up to the register and was leaning against the counter when he saw a pretty gray-haired woman in jeans and a red shirt hurrying toward the counter. Then he looked at her again and straightened up, staring at her face, at the smile—and felt like he’d been sucker punched.