by L. N. Cronk
“What in the world is going on here?” he asked.
“I came over here to get the rest of my stuff,” I cried “and I found this . . . this stranger going through all of my things!”
“Jacob,” my dad asked. “Are you okay?”
Jacob nodded.
Dad loosened his grip.
“Jacob, this is my son, David. I’m sorry if he was rude to you–”
“You’re sorry if I was rude to him?” I yelled, shrugging Dad’s hand off of my arm.
I couldn’t believe it.
“Jacob is a guest in this home,” Dad began firmly, but I didn’t stick around to let him finish.
I turned and snatched up the sweatshirt and the yearbook and then I stalked out of the room, ignoring the sounds of my dad, who was calling after me.
~ ~ ~
I DIDN’T ANSWER the phone either time that Dad called as I drove the two blocks to Mrs. White’s house. I could see through the garage window that her car was there, so I rang the doorbell.
“Hi!” Mrs. White smiled when she opened the door. I did my best to smile back. “This is a nice surprise.”
I nodded.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. I couldn’t answer. I just gave my head the slightest of shakes and looked away.
“Come in,” she said, and I obeyed. We walked over to the couch and sat down.
“What do you have there?” she asked, pointing to the sweatshirt in my hand.
“Oh, um, this was Greg’s. I was going through some stuff in my old bedroom and I found it. I thought you might want it.”
She took it from me and held it out in front of her.
“Oh, goodness,” she said. “I remember this! He got it one of the times Paul took you guys to Chicago, didn’t he?”
I nodded. Paul was Mr. White, but I could never bring myself to call him anything except Mr. White.
“You can keep it if you want,” she offered, extending it back toward me. “You’re the one that went on those trips.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Sure, I’m sure.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her and trying to give her a smile.
“Charlotte told me about Chase,” she said, obviously assuming that’s what I was so upset about.
I nodded.
“It seems like that family’s been through so much lately.”
I nodded again.
“That’s not all that’s wrong,” she said, looking at me questioningly.
“There’s so much wrong,” I said, shaking my head again. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She didn’t ask me any more questions. She just sat quietly until I was ready to talk.
“Did you know that my parents let somebody move in?” I finally blurted. “Some guy they don’t even know is living in my bedroom?”
“Yes,” she nodded, looking at me sympathetically. “I know.”
“I went over there and caught him pawing through all of my stuff, helping himself to whatever he wanted!”
“What?”
“I went over there to get some boxes, and he was going through all of my stuff . . . like he owned it or something!”
“He was helping himself to whatever he wanted?” she asked.
“He, well . . . he had my stuff out. He was looking at it.”
“But he wasn’t taking anything?”
“Who knows what he would have done if I hadn’t of come along?”
“Looking at your stuff isn’t exactly the same as taking things.”
“Anybody who would violate someone’s privacy like that is pretty much capable of anything if you ask me,” I told her.
“David,” she said, tilting her head and looking at me doubtfully.
“What!?”
“What was he looking at?” she asked.
“Are you defending him now or something? It doesn’t matter what he was looking at! He shouldn’t have been going through my stuff!”
“No, maybe he shouldn’t have been. I was just wondering what he was looking at.”
“My yearbook,” I said quietly after a moment.
She looked at me doubtfully again and I could tell she was wondering what was so private about a yearbook that had been purchased by over twelve hundred students.
“It was private,” I insisted. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, “but, David–”
“He also punched me,” I told her.
“What?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, showing her my jaw. “He slugged me right here!”
“I can’t believe Jacob would do that!” she said, reaching out and touching my jaw.
“You know him?” I asked, incredulous.
“Do you want some ice?” she asked.
“How do you know him?”
“I met him Wednesday when he moved in.”
“You honestly think this is a good idea for my parents to have some stranger living in their house when he obviously can’t be trusted?”
“I think he can be trusted,” Mrs. White said.
“He was pawing through all of my stuff and he punched me!” I reminded her.
“I think maybe you two must have just gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side!”
“I’m not taking anybody’s side,” she said. “I just think that–”
“I mean, someone at church says they know someone who needs a place to stay and suddenly my parents decide they’re a Ramada Inn? How is that a smart thing to do?”
She looked at me for a long moment and then sighed.
“David,” she finally said, “there’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.” She sighed again. “You’re going to find out soon enough anyway.”
“What?” I asked again.
She leaned back and took a deep breath.
“What’s going on?”
“David,” she said, still looking at me and giving me a little smile. “Paul always thought a lot of you.”
“I always thought a lot of him too,” I said, smiling back.
“I know you did,” she nodded. “And he knew it, too. He knew that you and Greg looked up to him, and it was really important to him that he set a good example for both of you.”
“He did,” I said. “The best. As a matter of fact, the only reason I’m even leading that stupid youth group is because he did such a good job with ours . . .”
She smiled again.
“Listen, David,” she said, glancing away for a moment as if trying to decide what to say next. “You know that everybody makes mistakes . . . sometimes we do things that we regret later and wish we hadn’t of done.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
“And,” she went on, “when you’re a parent, sometimes you may not exactly want your kids to know everything that you’ve done . . . right?”
I nodded.
“It’s not that you want to lie to them or anything,” she explained hurriedly, “but you also don’t exactly want to brag about it either. They might think, ‘Oh, well, Dad used to smoke cigarettes, so it’s okay if I do too.’ Even if you’ve told them it was a mistake and that it’s not okay, there’s this unspoken message that since Mom or Dad did something, it somehow is okay. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Mr. White used to smoke?”
She sighed.
“No, David. I’m not talking about cigarettes.”
“Pot?”
“No, not pot. Well, actually, he probably did smoke pot and cigarettes, but that’s not what I’m trying to get at here at all.”
Mr. White smoked pot and cigarettes?
“What are you trying to get at?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” I told her, trying to pull myself together and making sure my mouth wasn’t hanging open in dismay. “You’re not going to tell me anything that’s going to change how I felt ab
out him.”
And as I said those words, I realized that they were true. She smiled at me and nodded.
“I didn’t meet Paul until my junior year in college,” she said. “He was a senior, but I’d never seen him before. One night he showed up at one of our Campus Crusade for Christ meetings and . . .”
She paused.
“Love at first sight?” I guessed.
“Well, maybe not love at first sight,” she smiled, “but it was close.”
I smiled back at her.
“He had just accepted Christ,” she explained. “And he was just so . . . so on fire. You know what I mean?”
I nodded.
“But before that,” she went on, “I’m afraid he spent the first three years of college, um . . .”
“Sowing his wild oats?” I suggested.
“Yeah, whatever that means,” she laughed. Then she turned serious.
“I . . . I wasn’t Paul’s first girlfriend.”
“Okay.”
“I mean . . . I’m afraid he didn’t exactly save himself for me. Do you know what I mean?”
“Uh-huh,” I nodded. For the first time in this whole conversation, I think I actually did know what she meant. “But why are you telling me all this?”
“He had a girlfriend before he met me,” she said. “Her name was Olivia.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“They broke up after he accepted Christ. You know . . . different values, all that sort of thing.”
I nodded.
“He never saw her again after we started dating. Never even knew what became of her.”
I looked at her, confused again.
“David,” she sighed, “Olivia never told him, but . . . she was pregnant when they broke up.”
“Pregnant?”
“With his baby.”
I felt my eyes widen.
“Olivia went away,” she explained, “and had the baby and never told Paul. He never knew.”
“When did he find out?” I asked.
“He never found out,” she said. “Paul died thinking he had no other children except for Greg and Charlotte. He never knew about the baby.”
“How do you know about it then?” I asked, not even close to figuring this out on my own.
She gave me a little smile and looked at me gently.
“Because that baby’s all grown up now,” she explained, putting a hand on mine. “And he’s sitting in your old bedroom right now, pawing through all of your stuff.”
~ ~ ~
I SHOOK MY head.
“What?”
She nodded.
“No,” I said, still shaking my head. “There’s no way that guy is . . .”
“Yes,” she said when I hesitated. “He’s Paul’s son. And he’s Greg and Charlotte’s half-brother.”
Half-brother.
“There’s got to be some kind of mistake,” I said, still shaking my head. “Something’s not right. How’d you even find out about him?”
“He found me,” she explained. “His mother was able to give him enough information about Paul that he was able to track me down.”
“How do you know Mr. White’s really his father?” I asked. “She could have slept with a hundred other guys.”
“Didn’t he look familiar to you?” she asked gently. I remembered how he’d turned and smiled at me when I’d first walked into my old room. It had been Greg’s smile . . . Charlotte’s smile. The truth of what she was saying made me stop shaking my head.
I stared at her.
“What’s he want?” I finally asked. “Money? He found out about Charlotte’s trust fund and now he thinks he’ll just come right in here and help himself?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not what he wants.”
“You need to get yourself a lawyer and–”
“David!” she interrupted. “He’s not after the money. That’s not why he found us.”
“Us?”
“Me and Charlotte.”
“Charlotte knows?”
“No,” she answered.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“She doesn’t know yet,” Mrs. White explained.
“Yet?” I practically shouted. “You’re not honestly considering letting Charlotte find out about this, are you?”
“She’s his sister!”
“HALF–sister,” I corrected. “Do you really think anything good’s gonna come out of her finding out that she’s related to that low-life?”
“He’s sick, David.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No. I mean . . . physically. He’s very sick. He needs a bone marrow transplant.”
I stared at her, and suddenly everything became crystal clear.
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head again. “A bone marrow transplant? From Charlotte? Are you kidding me?”
“If he can find a donor, his chances for survival increase tremendously.”
“Then tell him to go to that national registry thingy and find a donor there!”
“They’ve already looked on the national registry and there were no perfect matches. There were three people who matched five out of six markers and they can use one of those if they have to, but it would be much better if they can find a perfect match.
“There’s only a small chance that Charlotte’s going to be a match because they’re only half-siblings,” she went on, “but Jacob’s doctors felt it was worth pursuing. That’s why Olivia gave him the information he needed to find us.”
I rubbed my forehead and looked at Mrs. White.
“When are you going to tell her?” I asked.
“I was going to tell her tonight after she gets back from skiing.”
“Is she going to meet him?”
“As long as she wants to. That’s the main reason he’s here.”
“So this isn’t just about him being sick. He wants to meet her.”
“Of course he does! If you had a sister you never knew about, wouldn’t you want to meet her?”
“Half-sister,” I corrected.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
“Well, I know,” she said. “You’d want to. And he wants to. And I expect that Charlotte’s going to want to as well.”
Laci listened on the car ride back from the airport with her hand clapped over her mouth most of the time, her eyes wide.
“I cannot believe Charlotte has a brother!” she finally said when I finished.
“Half-brother.”
“Does he look like Greg? I wanna meet him!!”
“No, you don’t,” I assured her. “He’s nothing like Greg.”
“You talked with him for what . . . five minutes?” she asked. “How could you possibly know anything about him?”
“He punched me!” I said.
“Yeah,” she argued. “After you pushed him.”
“You don’t want to meet him. Trust me.”
“I can’t believe Greg has a brother,” she whispered, completely awed.
“A half-brother! How many times do I have to say that?!”
“Mr. White had another son. This is unbelievable!”
“What’s unbelievable, Laci, is that you’re getting so excited about this. I’m telling you that Charlotte is going to wind up getting hurt here. Nobody seems to be thinking about her, except for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s not . . . he’s not the kind of person you’d really want to be related to. This is someone who . . . who’s going to be nothing but a burden to her! Maybe for the rest of her life! She’d be better off if she never even knew about him.”
“Well,” Laci said, “she’s going to find out about him. I don’t think that you need to let this ruin your day.”
“Oh, that’s not the only thing that’s ruining my day.”
“What else happened?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I muttered. I couldn’t bring
myself to tell her about Amber just yet.
“Tanner and I are going to go do something tonight,” I said.
“Tonight?” she asked.
“I know you just got back,” I said, “but it’s really important.”
“But what about dinner? My mom’s cooking for us!”
“Can you take the kids and go without me?” I asked. “Please? It’s really important.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I glanced at her.
“This isn’t a good idea, David,” she said when I didn’t answer.
“You don’t even know what we’re going to do!” I protested.
“I know it’s not a good idea!”
“You’re probably right,” I had to agree.
I was so mad at my dad and Jacob and Erin Lamont that by the time Tanner picked me up that evening, I was feeling reckless.
“Hello, Tanner,” Laci said ruefully when she let him in the door. He stepped into the living room and she inspected him. Like me, he was dressed in dark clothing. Unlike me, he had black grease smeared under each eye.
“You look ridiculous,” she said, glaring at him.
“Well, you’re in a fine mood this evening,” he observed. “Jet lag?”
“No,” she said. “I just think this is a bad idea.”
“You told her what we’re doing?”
“No,” Laci answered for me, “I just know that whatever it is, it’s not a good idea and I don’t appreciate the fact that you’re corrupting my husband.”
“Me corrupting him?” Tanner cried. “I think you’ve got it backwards, little missy. Your husband’s the one that dragged me into this.”
“Oh, yeah,” I interjected. “I really had to drag you.”
Tanner grinned at me and held a little container toward me.
“Eye black?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, taking it from him, (partly because I was feeling so reckless, but mostly because I knew it would make Laci roll her eyes). I looked in the mirror by the front door and put two black smudges under my eyes.
“How do I look?” I asked, turning around. I got the eye roll I was hoping for from Laci.
“Like a criminal,” Laci answered.
“You ready?” I asked Tanner, pulling on a dark jacket.
He nodded.
“Oorah!”
We parked on Amber’s street, a couple of doors down from her house. It was dark outside and there were lights on in the house. We sat in the truck, watching it.