A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

  An auburn-haired woman not much older than him, wearing a floral dress, stepped from behind Hannah. “I’m Connie Taylor.” She shook his hand, then addressed her daughter. “Go turn down that music, so we can hear ourselves think.” She chuckled nervously as Hannah complied.

  Parker studied the room decorated with Native American blankets and pottery. So this was where his child grew up. Very different from his glass house at the beach. Texas middle-class. He wasn’t quite sure how that sat with him, but he remembered his manners. “Nice place you have here.”

  “Thank you. Have a seat.” She remained standing while the music shut off. “Would you like some sweet tea?” Before he could answer, she headed for the kitchen.

  “Sure.” Just then Hannah returned and they sat across from each other on a matching couch and loveseat upholstered in Southwestern colors. The girl watched him, but didn’t speak.

  Carrying a tray with three glasses of iced tea, Connie broke the silence. “Did you find the place okay?” She set the tray on the coffee table and offered him one of the tall glasses.

  Leaning forward, he took it from her. “Yes. No problem. Thanks for inviting me.” Everyone sipped their tea and the ice cubes clinked.

  He’d been cheated. He wished Hannah had grown up with him, wished he were the one to tell her to turn down her music, to stop chatting on the phone, to be home by midnight. Assuming she went out at night. He didn’t know. Taking into account her big brown eyes, she probably had plenty of dates. And it should’ve been his job to scare the guys into behaving like gentlemen.

  Parker watched as Hannah picked at the hem on her denim shorts and Connie kept touching the heart-shaped locket around her neck. He wondered if it held a picture of Hannah. Parker cleared his throat. “Hannah, what do you do for fun?”

  She stopped fidgeting and looked him in the eye. “I swim.”

  “Competitively?”

  “I’m on the school’s team.” Her posture grew straighter, more confident. “We won state last year.”

  “Wow. Congratulations!” Excitement buzzed inside of him. Swimmers were a unique breed. They didn’t compete for the glory of it like football players. Photos of swimmers rarely made the newspapers. Swimmers did it for the feel of slicing through the water, the thrill of edging out the guy in the lane next to them or for cutting a second off of their best time. Hannah shared this passion, too. “What’s your best stroke?” He’d always dominated with his front crawl.

  “I like butterfly.”

  “That takes a lot of strength.” He watched her squirm at the compliment. He’d nearly forgotten how much he’d enjoyed the sport in high school. Practicing seven days a week, riding the bus to meets, slapping his teammate’s legs with rolled up towels—those were good times. It was amazing that this person connected only through his DNA shared his love of the water.

  DNA. They shared the same genes. Did she carry the gene for Huntington’s then? Sadness washed over him. He’d have to tell her…eventually.

  As if trying to get more comfortable, Hannah tucked one leg underneath her. “My dad used to take me to all of my morning practices before work.”

  Parker felt the weight of the words “used to.” He sensed that it was a recent loss. A stone formed behind his ribs because he’d never get the chance to meet and size up his replacement.

  Connie thumbed her locket. “We moved to Texas when he was diagnosed with cancer. To be closer to his family.”

  Hannah piped up. “He was the best father. All of my friends were jealous. So many of their parents divorced and their dads checked-out of their lives.”

  How could a dead-beat dad look himself in the mirror each day? “That’s too bad.” Parker wondered if she blamed him for checking out of her life at birth. If only he’d known about her. Anger filled his chest. “It breaks my heart that I’ve missed seeing you grow up. I’m so mad at Bethany.”

  Hannah swallowed. “I’ve had a good life. My dad was amazing and my mom is, too. Although I’d deny it if she ever brought it up in front of my friends.” She smiled slyly at her mother, her braces twinkling again.

  “I’m happy for that, at least,” he said. “Do you have pictures of when you were little? I’d love to see them.”

  Hannah sprang to her feet. “They’re hanging in the hall.” She waved for him to follow.

  As Parker rose, Connie pointed at his still-full glass. “Don’t you like it? I could get you a Pepsi.”

  He shook his head and stepped closer to Hannah. “This is fine.” He didn’t need caffeine to add to his jitters. He balled his fists to keep his hands from twitching then hid them in his pockets. Was this just nerves or was this the beginning stage? He worried it was the latter.

  Wooden 8” x 10” frames lined both sides of the hallway. Wedding and family photos were on the right side and individual shots of a baby started on the left side. Hannah pointed at each photo and told him her age. As a toddler, she’d had chubby cheeks sprinkled with freckles. Once her hair was long enough, it looked as if pig tails were the hairstyle of choice. Until the teenaged years when she let the brunette waves rest on her shoulders. He tried to find solace in the fact that her smile appeared sincere in every shot, but it was difficult. She would’ve been happy in his home, as well.

  The photos stopped when they reached a bedroom with light purple walls. He stood in the doorway, as if he didn’t have the right to step inside. He pointed at shelves above a white painted desk. “Are those all swim trophies?”

  “Yep.” She closed the door before he had a chance to look around more. Maybe she was embarrassed that clothes and books were scattered across the floor.

  They walked back to the living room where her mom had drained her glass. “I’ll give you two some privacy so you can talk.” She headed for the kitchen, her floral dress flowing gracefully behind her.

  Before the woman disappeared from sight, Parker cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d mind if Hannah showed me around the city. I’d love to see where she goes to school. And I want to get her a little memento of our visit.”

  Connie looked at Hannah and hesitated to make a decision.

  He realized she didn’t know him well enough yet. “You’re welcome to come with us.” He appreciated the sign that this woman took her maternal role seriously. His mom had been a worrier, too. That’s what moms did.

  “Mom, it’ll be fine,” Hannah said, sounding a little annoyed at her mother’s protectiveness. Connie’s green eyes studied her daughter’s face. “If Hannah wants to, I suppose it’s all right.”

  Hannah shrugged. “There isn’t much to see, but it would be nice to get out of the house. Mom is such a homebody.”

  Parker walked her to his rental BMW and opened the passenger door for her. Avoiding eye contact, she seemed flustered, climbing in quickly and struggling with her seatbelt. Didn’t guys open doors for girls anymore? His daughter shouldn’t settle for some guy who sat at the curb honking his horn. Shaking away the thought of his daughter dating, he took his place behind the wheel. “Tell me how to get to the nearest jewelry store.”

  “You don’t have to buy me stuff. I just wanted to meet you.”

  He ignored her. “Left or right?”

  She directed him through the subdivision. As they made their way into a commercial district, he felt her eyes studying him. “You really didn’t know I existed all of this time?”

  “Beth never told me.” He shook his head, gripping the wheel tighter.

  “It’s weird to think about.”

  “If I’d known about you, I never would’ve signed away my parental rights. I would’ve been there for you.”

  “Would you have asked Bethany to marry you?”

  He cleared his throat. How to explain things? He certainly didn’t want Hannah to feel her conception was a drunken mistake. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done. Perhaps my wife, Ivy, and I would’ve raised you.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t picture it.

  “So you
cheated on your wife? No wonder.”

  “That’s not what happened. I got married soon after. . . .”

  His cell phone rang and he actually appreciated the reprieve from this confrontation. When he saw that it was the office, he turned to Hannah. “No such thing as a day off when you’re the owner and president.” He clicked the “answer” button and gave advice to his second-in-command. Just as the call ended, he pulled up to a jeweler’s with the name Whitman’s written in cursive on the window.

  They exited the car and waited to be buzzed into the store. Glass cases circled the room, which grouped together similarly colored stones. Rubies, emeralds and topazes. Pearls had their own section, as did watches. After locating the diamonds, Parker leaned over the display case. Earrings, bracelets, and charms sparkled up at him, but one piece in particular grabbed his attention—a necklace that said “Sweet Sixteen” in diamonds.

  A woman wearing a form-fitting dress and too-much makeup pulled it out of the case for him. Looking over his shoulder, he waved for Hannah to come closer. “How about this? Do you like it? You’re sixteen, right?”

  “Really, Parker. I don’t want anything.”

  “But diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” He smiled at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the saleswoman smile back.

  But Hannah crossed her tan arms. “I don’t wear much jewelry.”

  “Nonsense.” Every Christmas Ivy registered her wish list at Smithton Jewelers. Tokens of his affection made of precious stones were also requested on every anniversary and vacation. For Ivy, jewelry was the best souvenir. If he bought Hannah something special, then she’d remember him after. . . .

  He stared at her smooth skin, the turned-up nose, her bronze cheeks. He ground his molars. It wasn’t fair. He’d just found her; he wasn’t ready to leave her.

  His cell phone rang, saving him from his internal demons. The office again. He made eye contact with Hannah. “Sorry. I’m in the middle of negotiating a land deal in Wisconsin.” He answered it, signaling for the clerk to wrap up the necklace he’d selected. Balancing the phone against his shoulder and ear, he reached into his wallet and pulled out his American Express card. He mouthed to Hannah, “Can you finish this?” A moment later, he exited the store to continue his business conversation.

  While he paced outside, Hannah joined him. She didn’t have a jeweler’s box in her hand, only his credit card. He tried to handle the call quickly. When he hung up, he tucked the phone back into his pocket. “Where’s the necklace?”

  She squared her shoulders. “I told you I didn’t want it. Take me home please.”

  # # #

  Around two a.m. Parker quietly unlocked the door to his Lake Michigan home while his mind whirled. Hannah had asked him to leave. Demanded it, actually. He’d booked a flight right away to appease her, but something told him she wouldn’t be forgiving him any time soon. Why hadn’t he silenced his phone so he wasn’t tempted to answer it?

  To add to his misery, his flight had been delayed and he’d been stuck in the airport for hours. At times like these, he wondered why he didn’t just buy a corporate jet.

  He walked quietly through the house so he wouldn’t wake Ivy.

  In the moonlight streaming in from the wall of windows, he made out an odd shape on the grand piano. It looked like a fedora. He tiptoed toward the bedroom, and his shoe caught on something in the hall. He leaned forward and pulled Ivy’s black thong off of his toe. His stomach clenched.

  He heard Ivy’s giggle from behind the bedroom door. “Oh, Rick. You know what I like.”

  Parker pushed open the door and flicked on the lights.

  A naked man with dark, wavy hair jerked away from Ivy. “What the hell?” He looked at her across the satin sheets. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming home until tomorrow.”

  Parker grabbed stuff off of the nearby mirrored dresser and threw it at the man. A watch, earrings, a perfume bottle. “It’s not enough that you’re screwing my wife, but you do it in my house?”

  The muscular twenty-something with the too-long hair jumped up.

  Sizing the other guy up, Parker figured, despite his medical condition, he could give the younger man a run for his money. Instead, the coward pulled on his jeans and ran out the bedroom door. Turning toward the hallway, Parker continued pummeling him with found objects until the man fled out the front door.

  Parker pivoted to see that Ivy remained in bed with the sheets pulled up to cover her breasts. What was she hiding for? He clenched his fists. “What a welcome home. I suspected you might be cheating on me, but I didn’t realize you’d screw him in my bed!”

  “Parker, let me explain,” she cried.

  He laughed, a hollow laugh. “I’m going to be dead soon, but I guess that’s not soon enough for you.”

  Dropping the sheet, she came near him and hugged his rigid back. “Parker, don’t say stuff like that.”

  For once, his libido remained in check. Instead, sadness consumed him. His wife was cheating on him and his daughter had asked him to leave. After flying all the way to Texas, the reunion had been a bust. Not even lasting more than a couple hours. He was suing the mother of his child. He was dying.

  Melancholy mixed with anger.

  Ivy rubbed his back. “He means nothing to me. I love you. I don’t know why I… He made me feel young, I guess.”

  Although he didn’t reciprocate her caresses, he stayed. He let her touch his back, rubbing circles across his shoulder blades. A lump clogged his throat and he tried to swallow it. Hannah didn’t like him, Beth probably hated him.

  He let Ivy try to comfort him. Because he had no one else.

  # # #

  Beth knew Parker had flown out to meet their daughter because Hannah had gushed about his impending visit on her blog. Beth checked the site daily to gauge how Hannah was doing. Unfortunately, it sounded as if things hadn’t gone well with Parker. In disbelief, Beth re-read the post she’d seen yesterday.

  All this man did was try to buy me off and talk on his cell phone. I’m not even sure why he came to see me. At first he seemed happy to discover that I existed, which was nice. I was afraid he might ask for a DNA test or something tacky like that. But besides competitive swimming, we don’t seem to have anything in common. My adoptive father (whom I’ll refer to as my REAL DAD) and I had so much more connecting us. We both loved taking hikes and trying to identify the bird calls we heard or the wildflowers that grew along the trail. We both loved science, especially physics and optics. And my real dad appreciated my art. How I take pictures of butterflies and other things and turn them into mosaics.” (She’d posted a beautiful abstract photo done in blues and greens here).

  Mom says art’s a nice hobby, but I should focus on science for a career. I know logically, she’s right. I mean, if all you care about is money. Which is apparently how my biological father is. He showed up in a fancy car, I’m not sure what kind, and he wore a Rolex watch and took me to a dumb jewelry store to buy me a dorky diamond necklace. If he knew me at all, he’d know that I don’t like dressing up. In fact, Mom and I are fighting about what I should wear to the upcoming art show. Here’s what she wants: (photo of pink frilly dress) and here’s what I want: (photo of jeans and a T-shirt). My biological father was such a disappointment. I guess I thought because I’d lost my real dad, maybe finding this man would somehow fill the abyss. I have a gigantic hole in my heart and now it feels even worse.

  Reading about Hannah’s pain caused Beth’s chest to hurt. It surprised her that Parker made such a bad impression because he’d never seemed materialistic to her in college. But of course, that was years ago. He was a self-made millionaire now.

  If Hannah had a horrible experience meeting him, she probably wouldn’t be eager to meet Beth. Beth took a deep breath. This was killing her.

  Her friend’s words echoed inside her head: Don’t push, don’t push. Parker had tried too hard and it’d backfired.

  After first reading the blog, she’d ha
d an idea that she hoped was more subtle. She’d scanned the Internet for some modern pantsuits and attached them to an e-mail.

  To: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  From: Bethany@yahoo.com

  What about something like this for your art show?

  Just then her computer pinged with a new message. Seeing Hannah’s name in her inbox made Beth smile. With a click of the mouse, she could see her daughter’s response.

  To: Bethany@yahoo.com

  From: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  Not too bad. I like the burgundy one best. Thanks. Did I tell you I won Best in Show?

  Beth smiled even wider. She wasn’t very creative herself so she truly admired the trait in others. If only Hannah would invite her to visit. Beth quickly wrote a response.

  To: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  From: Bethany@yahoo.com

  Glad I could help. Congratulations! Could you send me a picture of your award-winning piece? I’d love to see it.

  ###

  “Take Ivy out of my will!” The nostalgic scent of Swisher Sweet cigars did nothing to calm Parker as he paced inside his attorney’s office. “Divide everything between the Huntington’s Foundation and Hannah Taylor.”

  Leaning back against his desk, Stan removed his reading glasses. “Slow down. Take a seat.” He gestured toward a wing-backed chair. “Are you sure about this? Have you even established paternity?”

  Parker shook his head as he slid into the chair. “She’s mine. I can tell.”

  “You’re under duress. You want to believe that she’s yours. But trust me, this could all be a scam to get your money.”

  “She wouldn’t even let me buy her a necklace. She doesn’t want my money. She doesn’t want anything from me.”

  “Then why did she contact you?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t adoptees often track down their biological parents?” If so, had she asked to meet Beth, too? Had their meeting been as awkward as his? Or did a mother and daughter have more of a natural connection? He sighed.