by Helen Conrad
“No, I...” She stopped, thinking. Everyone seemed to assume she was looking for her father. What if she did find him? She wasn’t even sure she would want to do that if she could. “I came back to find my past, but I don’t know if I need to find my father,” she told him honestly.
He frowned. “But don’t you think you would know yourself better if you found him?” he said tentatively. This was obviously something he had thought about a lot. “I mean, you could see where you got things, like the way you look, the way you act...”
She nodded slowly. “You’re right. That could be helpful. But I’m not sure it’s necessary. I’ve gotten along fine without knowing my father all these years. I’m sure you’ll do okay, too.”
She smiled at him, but he wasn’t really listening. He studied her for a moment, then took a step toward her, his eyes alight with some impulse toward revelation. “I—you know, I never told anyone this, but I think I know who my father is.”
Just a bit startled, she said, “Oh?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I figured it out. But I think I’ve always known, you know? I could just tell. And...it’s kind of neat because I think I’m getting more like him every day.”
“Oh.” Surely she could dredge up some other word from the depths of her vocabulary. But for the moment, it seemed to be impossible. She stared at him, wondering why he gave every indication of being infected with the same need his mother had exhibited to open up to her in ways she was pretty sure he didn’t ordinarily do. Was it because she was a stranger in town? Did they pour out their souls to every passing tourist? It seemed very odd, but somehow endearing at the same time.
“So he’s someone you see all the time?” she asked weakly, though she really didn’t want to know any more. It was none of her business, after all.
Trevor stared at her, not answering. His eyes darkened. “I don’t know why they don’t come right out and tell me it’s him,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Neither did she. Still, she was an outsider and it really had nothing to do with her. There had to be reasons. There were always reasons. “Have you tried talking to your mother about it?”
He laughed shortly. “No. We never talk about that stuff. I couldn’t ask her. She’d just get that hurt look...” His voice faded away and he merely shook his head. “But one of these days,” he went on softly, his eyes focusing into the distance, “I’m going to get up the nerve to ask him.”
He didn’t continue, and she was just as glad. What he was telling her was much too personal. She felt very uncomfortable hearing it.
It was funny, though. She wanted to reach out to this boy she hardly knew, to comfort him, to make all this old pain well again. There was something about him that drew her closer, made her care.
And that made her angry at his mother, his father. Could he be right about the identity of the man? If so, why hadn’t the man acknowledged the tie between them? But on the other hand, what if he was wrong? Her heart ached for the boy. What if he laid his soul bare for this person, and the man rejected him?
“You know what, Trevor?” she said earnestly, touching his arm with her hand to get his attention back from his dreams of reconciliation. “Before you confront this man, you ought to do some digging.”
He gazed at her blankly. “Digging? What do you mean?”
“Looking for clues, something concrete to base your hunch on. Old newspaper files. Old letters. Old pictures. I don’t know. Maybe get a look at your birth certificate. You want to be absolutely sure before you... before you ask someone if he is your father.”
“Is that what you’re doing to find your father?”
She sighed. “Well, now that you mention it...” She stopped. What was she denying here? What was she resisting? She kept insisting to anyone who would listen that she had no interest in finding her father. But why not? She could at least ask around and find someone who knew him. What would it hurt to find out a few things? “Actually,” she said slowly, “I just might.”
A new feeling of excitement filled her. Why hadn’t she allowed herself to consider the possibility before? She wasn’t sure. But all at once it had become something she was looking forward to. And what if she actually found him?
Suddenly everything looked different. Why shouldn’t she look for him? Knowing him might be exactly what she needed to give herself a new perspective on things, help her attain that peace of mind she’d been searching for.
“I tell you what,” she said impulsively to Trevor. “I’ll help you, if you help me. What do you say?”
Trevor’s grin was impossibly lovable. “Deal,” he said, sticking out a muddy hand.
She took it warmly and smiled back at him. He was such a nice kid. She felt as though she’d known him all her life.
Joe paused just outside the green door to his mother’s room. He always had to steel himself to face her lately. Taking a deep breath, he rapped sharply and let himself in, even though she hadn’t invited him.
She was propped up against a dozen fluffy white pillows, her silver hair flawlessly combed and styled. The television was tuned to a game show. A plate of cookies sat on a tray to her right. The telephone and remote for the TV sat on the bedside table.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, standing in the doorway.
“Darling.” She smiled and patted a place on the bed. “Come here and see me. You’ve been away so much lately.”
His steps were slow and reluctant, but he sat where she’d indicated and leaned close to kiss her cheek. The scent of lilac filled his head, making him want to sneeze.
“I’ve just been talking to Gloria Engles on the phone,” his mother told him with a sense of quiet satisfaction. “Do you know that her son Sam is remarrying? He’s been so lonely since Grace died, and now he’ll have someone to take care of that dear little baby....”
“Mother,” Joe broke in, stemming the flow of words he knew were meant to make him feel guilty, to manipulate him into doing what his mother had been trying to get him to do almost all his life. “That’s great about Sam, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. I have to tell you something. Jeremy had an accident yesterday.”
Her expression didn’t change from the relentless cheerfulness she always exhibited. “Oh, yes, dear, I know.” She gave him a sunny smile. “Tanya at the emergency room called me last night and told me all about it. How is he today? I noticed he didn’t go to school with Beth.”
“He’s fine.” Joe turned and looked at her, trying hard not to be annoyed. She was his mother. He loved her. He owed her... well, respect at least. “You didn’t notice when it happened? You didn’t hear Beth banging on the door?”
She shook her head with exaggerated regret. “I must have had the television on too loud. I’m so sorry I didn’t hear them. Of course, I couldn’t have done anything much but called 911 for him.”
Joe didn’t respond. A part of him wanted to let go the anger he felt for her inattention to his children, and at the same time he had to remember her disability. It must be horrible for her to be cooped up this way all the time. He had to be careful not to let resentment blot out that fact. So he didn’t say anything, but stared out the window, waiting for the emotion to fade.
“Has Millie been by this morning?” Phyllis was asking brightly.
He nodded slowly, clenching and unclenching his hands. “She put in some petunias for us.”
Phyllis laughed softly. “That darling. But why didn’t she come on up and see me? We haven’t had a visit for days.”
“She had to get back home.” He looked out the window again, noting the panoramic view she had of most of the yard. The ditch where the tractor had gone over was too far to the right to be visible. He calmed down a little. Of course, she hadn’t seen a thing. How could she have had any idea Jeremy was in trouble and not have done anything? She was annoying at times, but not completely heartless.
“Millie is such a dear,” Phyllis was going on. “If only you had married her back then all
those years ago when she needed you so badly.”
Joe turned and glared at her. It had been a while since she’d played this old tune. What had brought it up again? “Mother, she was sixteen and I was eighteen. If I’d married her then, I wouldn’t have Beth and Jeremy today.”
Phyllis laughed softly, as if to say it was all just a whim, nothing to get excited about. “Well, of course, there are advantages and disadvantages to everything, aren’t there? Think what a difference it would have made in your life, in Millie’s life, and of course, in Trevor’s life.” She sighed and her gaze sharpened as she looked at him before continuing very carefully. “And now we have this new person in the house.”
Joe almost grinned. He’d wondered how long it would take her to get around to this. “How did you know about Carly?”
“I take phone calls, darling. I talk to people. And I see what goes on out my window. Now, tell me all about her.”
He shrugged, willing to do that at least. “Her name’s Carly Stevens. She won’t be here for long. She’s just in town for a sort of vacation, and she needed a place to stay. She heard that I needed help with the kids, so... Doris at the coffee shop put us together.”
Phyllis’s dark eyes gleamed. “Doris. Ah...of course.”
Joe moved restlessly. “So... That’s about it.”
Phyllis gave him a look that told him she wasn’t about to be satisfied with such meager information. “Has she told you anything about her background?” she asked him.
“You mean, did I ask for references?”
Phyllis pursed her lips. “No. I mean, did she tell you about her father and how she used to live here when she was small?”
Joe blinked, surprised. “A little. How did you know all this? What did you do, recognize her from the window?”
Phyllis ignored his questions. “What did she say exactly?”
“She just said she’d grown up here, that her parents split up when she was ten and she hasn’t seen or heard from her father since. Why?”
She was gazing at him sharply. “She said that? She has no idea where he is?”
He nodded. “That’s what she said.”
Phyllis frowned, thinking. “Then she came to look for him, didn’t she?”
“She says not. She came to revisit the old homestead, so to speak. And to think over where her life is going. And that’s about it.”
Phyllis let out a rather unladylike snort. “So she says.”
Joe shook his head, puzzled. “What makes you doubt it? What do you know about this?”
Instead of answering his questions, Phyllis posed one of her own. “Do you remember him?”
“Howard Stevens? No. Everyone else seems to, though.”
“Everyone?” Phyllis clutched the hem of her bed-jacket in her pale hand. “You mean... have you told Millie?”
This whole topic was getting muddled and more and more mysterious. Joe was beginning to lose patience with it. “No,” he said evenly. “Millie is the one who told me.”
Phyllis gasped and threw herself back against the pillows. “Why don’t you turn off the television?” she suggested, her voice strained. “I think I’d better fill you in on things you seem to have forgotten.”
Joe stared at her for a moment before he rose to comply. He had a very bad feeling about this. He was pretty sure he was about to hear something that would change everything. And at this moment, he wasn’t sure he was ready for changes.
Joe was in the den with Jeremy when Carly came back from her sojourn in the orchards. He stood at the window and watched her walk toward the house. Her step was light and she had a spray of orange blossoms in her hair. She looked like a woman without a care in the world.
His shoulders tightened. He should get rid of her, get her out of here, and he knew it. How was he going to tell her?
“Jeremy?” he said, still watching Carly.
The only response he heard was another page being turned in the coloring book Jeremy was working diligently at finishing before Beth got home.
“Jeremy?” He turned and looked at his son, and the little face rose slowly, reluctantly, to acknowledge his attention, crayon poised. “Do you like Carly?” Joe asked him.
He gazed back into his father’s eyes and shrugged. “She’s all right, I guess,” he said noncommittally. “She can’t make waffles.”
Well, Joe thought, there you have it. The kids aren’t all that attached to her yet. Why let things go on until they are? It would be best if she left quickly, quietly, with a minimum of hassle. And he would have to be the one to tell her so.
He heard her come in the back door and he went out into the hall, walking slowly, trying to find the words he would use. He could hear her doing something in the kitchen, humming as she worked. He hesitated for a moment, listening to her. She sounded happy. There was all too little happiness in this house these days. It was too bad.
Swearing softly, he shook his head and made the move into the doorway, and there he stopped, leaning against the jamb, watching her.
She turned and gave him a smile that reminded him of sunshine coming from behind a cloud on a gloomy day.
“Hi,” she said gaily. “It’s way past time for lunch. Will sandwiches be okay?”
He hesitated. He should go ahead and tell her now. The longer he waited, the harder it was going to be. “Sure,” he heard himself saying. “Sandwiches would be great. Thanks a lot.”
She smiled again. “No problem.” Spinning, she pulled open the refrigerator and began rummaging through the shelves.
He went on out through the kitchen door and into the yard, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. He’d been standing right there and yet he hadn’t been able to get the words out. But he would. Just give him some time. He would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN IN DOUBT, TRY ELEPHANT JOKES
“How does that head feel, Mr. Jeremy?” Carly asked as she plunked a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in front of where the boy was sitting at the kitchen table. “Have you had any problems with it today?”
She stopped and waited for a reply, watching his face. He looked at her quickly in a searching, questioning way that surprised her. For a moment, she wondered if he were trying to figure out what she’d said, but then his face relaxed and he answered.
“I’m okay.”
He turned his attention to his food, but she stayed where she was, interested and a little concerned. There was a haunted look to the boy’s eyes, as though he knew something he wished he didn’t know, or had seen something best left unnoticed. Impulsively, she reached out and caressed his shoulder with her fingertips, searching for some way to make a connection with this child who seemed so lonely.
“Jeremy, I’m very glad you’re okay. But you let me know if anything bothers you, all right? It’s part of my job to help you when you need help. Okay?”
He stared up at her for a long moment without speaking, and she wondered what he was thinking. She couldn’t read him at all. And then she realized he was looking behind her. Startled, she turned to find Joe standing in the kitchen doorway, watching them.
How long had he been there? It didn’t really matter, but she colored slightly anyway. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. Was there? So what the heck was wrong with her?
This wouldn’t do, this jumping out of her skin whenever she saw him. She was going to fight it. Withdrawing her hand from the boy’s shoulder, she smiled a welcome to his father and tried to pretend there was nothing unusual going on inside her.
“I hope you like ham and Swiss,” she said, going to the counter and picking up two plates, one for him and one for her. She carried them back to the table and sat across from him, with Jeremy between them.
“It’s my favorite,” Joe told her, but there was something in his eyes that made her look away quickly again, and kept the redness in her cheeks.
They ate in silence. She considered telling him about Trevor and the thin
gs they’d talked about in the orchard, but on second thought she decided not to. So she picked at her food and Joe ate heartily and Jeremy ate little tiny bites and stared at his plate. The ticking of the clock on the wall was as loud as cannon fire, and the sound of milk splashing into Jeremy’s glass as Joe refilled it reminded her of the surf at the beach. Even louder was the echoing silence of the tension at the table. Carly wasn’t sure why, but she knew they all felt it. And she couldn’t think of a thing to say to break it.
Joe was the one who finally spoke, and the sudden sound of his voice made her jump again. She closed her eyes for a second, giving herself a good talking to. This had to stop.
“I’m going to have to take the tractor in to town to the mechanic,” Joe was saying, glancing down at his son. “It’s got more wrong with it than I can fix.”
Jeremy’s face crumpled with guilt. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I wrecked it.”
Joe’s stern look didn’t soften. “I hope this will teach you not to fool around with machinery you’re not old enough to handle,” he said evenly.
Jeremy nodded, looking miserably down at his plate, a shining suggestion of tears pooling on his lower lids.
Carly itched to reach for him. She looked at Joe. He was in that damned male mode that brooked no softening. There was a lesson to be taught here. He wasn’t about to unbend and comfort the child.
Well, as far as she was concerned the lesson was learned and over with. It was time to lighten the mood. There had to be something she could say... something she could do.... An idea came and she smiled to herself, looking quickly at Joe who was finishing up his sandwich. Good. His mouth was full. She’d have time to get started before he could say anything to stop her.
Leaning down near his son’s ear, she said softly, “Hey, Jeremy. Do you know how you can tell an elephant from a banana?”
The boy was looking at her, blinking away the tears and hanging on her words, but clearly puzzled. Quickly, he flashed a glance at his father, who looked just as startled as he was, then shook his head.