A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

Hannah tapped a pen on the table. “So you were friends with benefits.”

  “Hannah!” her mom said loudly in a chastising voice. She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin then picked at her baked potato.

  “To be honest, we were really just friends who made a mistake. It was a one night stand.” Bethany paused and twirled the straw in her water glass. “What else did you ask? Oh, right. Siblings. No. I don’t have any children.”

  Parker’s eye twitched. “Me, neither.”

  “Oh.” Hannah sounded disappointed. “But when I called your house, Bethany, a little girl answered the phone.”

  “She’s my niece. I mean, she’s my boyfriend’s niece.” She cleared her throat. “Ex-boyfriend.” Her focus darted downward.

  “Why didn’t you have more kids?”

  No one spoke. Bethany shrugged her shoulders. “I was thinking I would have a family someday, but it’s not looking too good at this point.”

  Parker tilted his head at Bethany and looked sympathetic. “I thought about children, too, but my wife. . . .” He seemed to stumble on that word. “She isn’t exactly the mothering type.”

  “My mom said I should get an updated medical history from both of you since some things have a genetic component.”

  Beth made eye contact with Parker, whose square jaw fell slightly ajar. She took a deep breath. “I don’t have much to report except a terrible sweet tooth and a grandmother with diabetes.”

  Hannah turned her attention to Parker.

  He took a sip of his nearly empty water glass, the ice rattling when he set it down. “Um.” He ran his hand through his thick, brown hair. “I don’t have anything to add.” He started to choke. He coughed and coughed.

  Beth patted his back. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded and continued to cough. “Excuse me.” He stood and walked away.

  # # #

  As she and Parker strolled down the hall toward their hotel rooms, Beth couldn’t believe she’d just met Hannah. She bumped Parker’s hand. “Oops. Sorry.” Her adrenaline, which was already ramped up, skyrocketed from the touch.

  He smiled at her. “We have a daughter. We just ate dinner with our daughter.”

  She loved that he was as excited about seeing Hannah as she was. This was his second encounter with the girl, after all. “I think it went well, don’t you?”

  “Except for the scuffle with Connie about my paying the restaurant bill.” He chuckled. “As if I’d ever let her pay.”

  A fast-walking couple approached rolling two suitcases. Beth moved to the side to let them pass and held on to her thoughts for an extra minute. “I’m scared Hannah doesn’t want anything more from us than the answers to some questions.”

  “We’re still strangers to her.”

  She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. She’d lost Emma, the closest thing she had to a little girl of her own. And she was getting too old to find a new guy, fall in love, get married and have a baby. Hannah would have to be it. “I want to know everything about her. And I want her to know everything about me.”

  “She caught me off-guard with that medical question.”

  “Yeah. You choked. Literally.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe I lied. I just wasn’t ready to tell her.” They slowed down as they located their side-by-side rooms.

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  Neither of them unlocked their door. Instead, they rehashed the evening’s events as if they couldn’t savor them enough.

  Beth pulled her hair into a ponytail, then let it drop. “I can’t believe how tall she is! Taller than me.”

  “But not too tall. I hear it’s hard for women if they’re taller than most men.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” At five-foot-four, she’d always been shorter than any guy she met. “I’m glad she didn’t inherit my body type.” He didn’t argue and she allowed it to hurt her.

  “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” He smiled like a proud papa.

  They had to move to the side of the hall to let three hotel guests walk by.

  After about an hour, a bald man in a robe stuck his head out of a neighboring room and asked the two of them to keep their voices down. Beth apologized.

  Parker inserted the key card into his door and lowered his volume. “See you for breakfast.”

  “Sure.” Once she walked into her room, her body went through her bedtime routine while her mind danced in the clouds. She’d been reunited with her baby. Her baby had spunk and freckles and combined the best of Beth and Parker.

  Of course, after she put on her p.j.’s and climbed into bed, she couldn’t sleep.

  # # #

  As early as deemed polite, Parker drove Bethany to the Taylors’s house the next morning. Right away, he noticed a blue vintage Mustang parked by the road with a “For Sale” sign taped in its front window. For a moment he was torn between checking out the car and rushing to the front door. He chose to walk with Beth to ring the bell, of course.

  Hannah opened the door in a Yale T-shirt and blue jeans. She didn’t wear a drop of makeup, which for some reason, caused him relief. He hated to think of his little girl trying to attract the attention of boys.

  They exchanged greetings and he couldn’t help but point his thumb toward the car. “Who’s Mustang is that?”

  Hannah led them into the kitchen, which was sunny and bright. “It was my dad’s. Mom said it doesn’t make sense to keep it any longer.”

  “Don’t you have a license?”

  She sighed. “I do, but the car’s a stick shift. Dad always said he’d teach me how to drive one, but. . . .”

  Connie, her auburn hair pulled back in a loose bun, sipped a mug painted with “World’s Best Teacher” and an apple. She folded up a newspaper and set it down on the counter. “Would either of you like a cup of coffee?”

  He and Beth declined before he continued with his train of thought. “My father had a 1965 Mustang just like that one out front. Only it was red like that apple on your mug. If it’s all right with you, Connie, I could teach Hannah to drive.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide and for once, she didn’t try to hide her braces. “Really?” Her attention turned to Connie. “Can he? Please, Mom? Then it could be my car when I go off to college.”

  The woman pursed her lips and seemed fragile. She squeezed the locket hanging around her neck. “You don’t have to do that, Parker.”

  He wondered if perhaps her late husband’s photo was tucked inside that tiny gold heart. “Actually it would be a treat for me. But I don’t want to impose.”

  She pointed toward a key hook near the door. “It’s the one on the silver ring. Just be careful.”

  Hannah jumped up and down. Beth didn’t seem thrilled with the idea as she fiddled with her purse strap. Was this going to make her feel left-out? He didn’t mean to do that. But that smile on his daughter’s face mattered more than Bethany’s feelings.

  On their way out the door, Connie handed Parker a small cooler. “I packed you some sandwiches in case you get hungry.”

  He thanked her and headed for the car. Hannah placed some camera equipment in the backseat before climbing behind the wheel.

  He spent some time sitting in the driveway talking Hanna through the concept of gears. “You have to push on the clutch before shifting. It’s like asking permission before you can change gears.” She seemed to catch on quickly. The truth was that driving a stick shift mostly required practice. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “My dad took me out a couple times.” She pressed the clutch, put it in first gear and hit the gas. The car jerked and stalled. “Darn it. Let me try again.”

  He looked over his shoulder and grinned at Beth in the backseat. She waved as if she were going on an adventure with him. In a way, she was.

  The herky-jerky drive to the park didn’t bother him at all. The car died at a stoplight and someone honked. Parker whipped around and gave the driver the finger.

  “Parker!” Beth
said from the backseat. “That’s not like you.”

  His face burned. Once again, the Huntington’s had shortened his fuse.

  He shook away the thought, noticing that Hannah was already gaining confidence and skill. He loved that his father taught him to drive and now he had the pleasure of teaching his daughter. The comparison gave him goose bumps.

  Within ten minutes they passed a sandstone sign that read “Lake White Rock Park.” Hannah pulled into a paved parking lot and grinned with pride.

  Because the temperature was in the lower sixties, he decided to leave his coat in the car. “This weather is so much warmer than where we came from.” He reached for their picnic.

  Hannah grabbed her camera bag and led them east along a massive lake. She didn’t get very far before she started snapping pictures. Wildflowers, leaves, birds, clouds. Everything seemed to intrigue her and she utilized a telephoto zoom lens like a pro. It surprised him that she preferred an old-fashioned 35-mm camera to a digital.

  She pointed toward the Dallas skyline in the distance. “See that island?”

  He and Beth answered, “No” at the same time.

  The adolescent squinted with a wistful expression. “Bonnie Belle Island is the secret home of leprechauns and unicorns. Legend has it that it can only be seen on the fifth Tuesday of the thirteen month when the moon is full.” She started hiking along the trail some more. “When I was little, I actually believed my dad when he told me that.”

  Parker smiled and reached for Beth’s hand, checking her expression for approval. When she didn’t pull away, he allowed the heat from her skin to warm his heart. Last night when they’d bumped hands in the hall, he’d suddenly realized that holding her hand might be nice.

  He watched Hannah make her way down the path, alternating marching and stopping. A couple of bikers whirred past them, causing the white pelicans on the nearby shore to step away.

  Hannah got down to ground level and aimed her lens at the birds. Once she’d taken a few shots, she stood, brushed herself off and continued on. “Tell me about your families. . .my grandparents.”

  He talked about growing up in northern Indiana, his father a manager at the Uniroyal plant, his mother, an Avon Lady and his grandparents, Belgian immigrants. “In Belgian households, you greet visitors with a handshake—even the children. If you know them well, then it’s a kiss on the left cheek, right and back to left again.”

  Hannah smiled. “Oh, like in France. I study French in school.”

  “Did you know they speak French in part of Belgium?”

  Hannah nodded and led them across a concrete bridge over a creek. “Don’t you think immersion is the best way to learn a language?”

  He made eye contact with Beth who seemed content to listen. As far as he knew, she hadn’t traveled outside of the states, so he decided to answer. “There’s no comparing learning in the classroom and actually conversing with native speakers. Plus experiencing the culture is part of the fun.”

  Hannah slowed to fall in step beside them. “That’s how I feel, too. My school is taking a trip this summer to Europe, but my mom won’t let me go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Parents aren’t allowed to chaperone—only teachers. Mom claims it’s too expensive, but I think the truth is she’s over-protective. She doesn’t want to let me out of her sight.”

  Parker hated to think that his daughter was being held back. “You need to see the way people live in other parts of the world. It’s a global economy. Too many Americans fail to understand things beyond our borders.”

  Hannah’s brown eyes lit up. “Exactly. I just have to go. Plus now that I know my grandparents are Belgian, it would be like studying my ancestry.”

  “I hope your mom changes her mind.”

  “She won’t listen to me. I’ve been begging her. Even offered to get a job to help pay for it. Any chance you could talk to her for me?”

  He glanced at Beth who shrugged. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Hannah did a little happy dance and he loved that he’d caused it. First with teaching her to drive the stick shift and now this. They were starting to connect.

  They neared a grove of cypress, oak and elm trees. Hannah spread her arms wide. “This is called Celebration Tree Grove. If you donate $1,000, you can get a plaque in remembrance of someone. I wanted to get one for Dad, but Mom said we should save the money for college. Dad would’ve preferred that.” She sighed. “Someday when I have money of my own, I’ll have them plant a tree in his honor.”

  Or I could pay your tuition and for your trip to Europe. You shouldn’t ever worry about money. You should pursue your dreams. But he swallowed his thoughts, worried she didn’t want him to swoop in and save the day by writing a check. He’d learned his lesson in the jewelry store.

  Putting down the cooler, he ran his fingers along one of the bronze plaques: Henry Macy, 1940-2008. How much would Hannah grieve when Parker passed away? Would anyone want to plant a tree in his honor?

  He squeezed his eyes shut. How the hell was he ever going to tell her?

  Sunshine warmed his cheeks, reminding him that the weather was a pleasant respite from the snowstorm in Chicago. He decided to focus on the here and now. Without letting go of Beth’s hand, he retrieved the cooler.

  Hannah continued along the path. “What’s your family like, Bethany?”

  Beth hesitated. “My mom stayed home until I went to college. My dad is a minister.” She took a breath before continuing. “That’s part of why I couldn’t keep you. Now it seems ridiculous that I cared so much about what my parents thought, but I did.”

  Hannah looked at the ground. “I still care what my mom thinks. . . . I act like I’m independent and ready to graduate a year early, but the fact that Mom wants me to stay at home makes me wonder. Do I really want to miss my senior year? Does she know what’s best for me or is she just lonely without my dad around?”

  Beth shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re almost done with high school.”

  “The hardest part is declaring a major. I’m good at all of my subjects, but art is what I love.” She froze and signaled for them to be quiet.

  Leaning against a tree to steady her camera, she took a few pictures of a yellow-breasted bird. It made a high-pitched trill that sounded like “tree-ee-ee.” The bird flew away and Hannah faced them, her braces shining in the sun. “Did you see that? I think it was a Tropical Kingbird. Wow. Don’t see too many of those.”

  Parker rubbed his thumb along Beth’s skin. He hadn’t held hands with a woman in years. She reminded him about the little thrills in life that he’d nearly forgotten.

  Smiling at him, Beth seemed receptive to his moves. She then turned her head toward Hannah. “Who taught you about birds?”

  “Both my parents are crazy about wildlife. My dad knew about birds and my mom’s an expert on flowers.”

  “I love how you take pictures of nature then transform them into collages. When we get back to the house, I’d love to see more of your artwork.”

  With the energy of youth, Hannah marched onward. She called over her shoulder. “I have an on-line portfolio at hannahbanana.net.”

  Beth chuckled. “Hannah Banana? That’s your e-mail address, too.”

  The teenager kicked a rock along the path. “It’s a nickname my dad gave me.” Her voice cracked.

  No one seemed to know what to say until Beth broke the silence. “At work we’ve been talking about redesigning our bottles, trying to make them prettier. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to send your portfolio link to my boss.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “I hate that I have to leave tomorrow. We can keep e-mailing. Perhaps you could come visit me sometime.”

  Their daughter didn’t respond and Parker felt bad for Beth. They crossed another creek and found themselves amongst stone tables and benches that had probably been built decades ago.

  He gestured toward t
he cooler in his hand. “This looks like it was made for picnics. Anyone want to stop for a bite?”

  Hannah put her finger to her lips. “Just a minute. I think I see a rabbit over there.” She moved stealth-like while raising her camera to her face.

  Sitting down at one of the stone tables, Beth watched him empty the cooler of bottled water and PB&J sandwiches in Ziploc bags. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you going to tell her soon?”

  He stared at the gray stone surface. “I don’t know how to bring it up.”

  “Yesterday she asked about our medical histories, so she wants to know.”

  He watched his little girl crouch near a dried up pond. “I wonder if she has the gene. God, I hope not.”

  “I’d think she’d want to get tested and find out.”

  “Some people don’t want to know. I didn’t. Especially after I watched my father. Toward the end. . . he asked me to help him overdose, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t man enough to fulfill his only request.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to ask of your child.”

  Parker shook his head. “You don’t understand. At the end, you can’t walk, talk or swallow. If the disease doesn’t make you depressed, the drugs they give you to treat the symptoms do. Suicide is very common.” He bit the inside of his mouth to make himself shut-up. He didn’t want anyone to know how he planned to make sure he never needed someone else’s help to finish things.

  Just then Hannah bounded up to the table. “I’m getting some great shots today. Hey, what are you two talking about? You look like you’re at a funeral.”

  He placed a sandwich and a napkin in front of his daughter, then picked up his food. “Nothing. Let’s eat. It was so thoughtful of your mom to pack us a lunch. Did she used to cut the crusts off for you? She seems like the kind of mom who’d do that.” He was babbling and he hated it, but couldn’t stop. “My mom did. And she’d cut sandwiches in half diagonally.”

  Beth glared at him and mouthed, “Tell her.”

  Hannah noticed the exchange. “What’s going on?”

  Dropping his sandwich, he leaned back. He took a deep breath. His cell phone rang, saving him.

  Shooting him a disapproving look, Beth grabbed his hand. “You said no more business calls.”