Sweet Reunion

by Melanie Shawn

  “That's right, that's right. Well, I tell you, I sure wasn't. But I didn't know how to explain. That's when Parker came along. You see, Parker was – what we used to call in those days – a big man on campus. He was popular with the other kids. He was good with his studies, and good at athletics. The teachers all loved him, and so did the students. Not to mention, he was very well liked by the girls.” A chuckle rose again from the crowd.

  “So, he comes up to me – and Brick still has me in the air by the front of the shirt mind you – and he slings his arm over my shoulder, as casual as you please. And he says, 'Hey, Henry, how are you doing?' as if we're just good buddies, running into each other in the hallway, making plans to go to the movies or have a burger later.

  “Then he looks at Brick, and he says, 'Brick, what's the problem you have with my good friend Henry, here?' and just like that, Brick put me down. I managed to apologize for running into him, and the whole thing blew over faster than it had started.

  “Well, I don't have to tell you, that's the kind of man Parker was. He never met a stranger. Every person in the world, to him, was just a friend he hadn't met yet. He always saw the good in people. Sometimes, that's all he would see, even if no one else could see it.

  “He loved his family more than pretty much any man I've ever known. His beautiful wife Claire, who he's now joining in heaven, and their beautiful daughter Amanda. My Manda bear. Parker lived for 'his girls.'

  “And he always knew the exact right thing to say in an awkward situation. That was just Parker's way. He brought out the best in people and helped to connect them. Even in his death, he's bringing people together.” Amanda could swear that Henry gave her a meaningful glance.

  “I was lucky enough to know Parker Jacobs, and that's something every person in this stadium has in common. We're all here together today to pay our respects to a great man, a man who has brought us all together, and I think that's the best tribute we could give him.”

  Henry stepped back from the podium and replaced the mic in the stand, wiping his eyes with the red bandana he always carried with him.

  Pastor Harrison returned to the podium and introduced the next speaker, a member of the city council who had served with Amanda's father for years. The next couple of people to come up and give tributes were more of the same, business and political associates Parker's, and people Amanda knew, although not terribly well.

  Then, in a move that was a total surprise to Amanda, Pastor Harrison said, “And now we have a very special tribute by one of this town's shining success stories. Here to share a special song is Karina Black, who we all know as Hope Fall's own Karina Blackstone.”

  Karina stood and made her way up to the platform, squeezing Amanda's shoulder as she passed her.

  Karina walked to the center of the makeshift stage and Pastor Harrison handed her a guitar. Amanda was surprised and touched to realize that there must have been a fairly significant amount of planning that went into this. Amanda wondered what she was going to sing.

  Karina walked up to the mic, lifting the guitar strap over her head and then settling it over her shoulder. She adjusted its height and then spoke into it, making eye contact with the crowd as she spoke. It was abundantly clear that, without even trying, she was absolutely comfortable on a stage with a mic, in front of thousands of people. She wasn't trying to perform, not in the least. It was just her natural home, it was where she belonged.

  “I've thought long and hard in the past couple of days about what song I should do today. I knew that I wanted it to be special, and that it should accurately reflect Parker, and how I felt about him. I knew, because of that, that it shouldn't be the typical memorial service emotional ballad, like 'Tears in Heaven' or 'Candle in the Wind' – but, what should it be, then, “I thought about writing a song for Parker myself, but honestly, it still feels a little raw to put into words.

  “But, then, the perfect song occurred to me. I remembered when Amanda and I were kids, Parker used to play this song in the house, and we'd goof around and sing and dance along. Maybe it was those experiences that influenced my wanting to be a performer, even.”

  Karina looked skyward, “This is for you, Parker.”

  With that, she closed her eyes and began solemnly picking and strumming a familiar melody on her guitar, and then stepped close to the mic and began to sing, “Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love, some people call me Maurice...”

  Karina stepped back as the entire crowd imitated the high pitched, electronic noises which famously followed that line, whooping, “Wiiiiii Wooouuuu...” and then returned to the mic and continued singing.

  When she reached the chorus, she gestured to the crowd grandly, with both hands, encouraging them to pick up the song with her.

  What seemed to Amanda like the entire crowd of 5,000 sang loudly, in unison, “Cause I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, and I'm a sinner...” and picked it up again, every time the chorus came around. Amanda was laughing and crying and singing all at the same time, and she knew that Karina could not have chosen anything more perfect.

  As Karina passed her on the way back to her seat, Amanda stood and gave her a long hug, which lasted well after Pastor Harrison had begun to speak again.

  At the end of the scheduled speakers, Pastor Harrison returned to the podium. “Before the program adjourns, Parker's daughter Amanda is going to share a few words. But before that, I'd like to open the floor for anyone that has something they'd like to share about Parker, such as a story or a tribute.”

  To Amanda's surprise, Justin sprang out of his seat and strode purposefully toward the podium. Because he had been seated in the folding chairs in front of the bleachers with Amanda and the rest of Parker's close family and friends, he arrived there before anyone else, and took the mic without hesitation. Justin was another person who wasn't big on speaking in front of crowds, or of talking about his feelings, for that matter. Yet, here he was, not just reluctantly doing both of those things, but rushing eagerly to do them, resolute and courageous. She felt incredibly proud of him, as well.

  Justin held the mic up to his mouth and opened it to speak. However, in a move that was very uncharacteristic of him, he got too choked up to continue and had to wipe his eyes and get his emotions under control before beginning his speech.

  “Everyone here in town knows my father,” he began, “I don't have to tell you what it was like growing up with him.” Unlike the chuckles from the crowd which had punctuated Henry's speech, Justin's words were met with a tense, uncomfortable silence.

  “One night when I was 16, I got a call from a bartender at JT's Roadhouse to come pick up my father, because he was too far gone and he was making a scene. Believe me, it was far from the first call like that I'd gotten.

  “I drove down to pick him up, dread knotting up my gut, and just praying that he would have passed out by the time I got there. He was a lot easier to get into the car when he was passed out. If he was still walking around, he usually fought me trying to take him, and sometimes it was messy. Spilled glasses, overturned tables. And people always glared at me, looked at me with disgust, yelled at me as if I was the one who was doing it. I was just a kid.

  “At least at 16, I had a car to push him into and drive him home. Before that, I had to herd him the whole mile back to our house on foot. Imagine doing that as a 10-year-old.

  “And the thing was, no one ever offered to help me. No one ever gave me a sympathetic glance, even. Every time someone saw me with my father while he was on one of his benders, they treated me like I had some kind of disease and it was catching. Like I was a leper.

  “Not Parker, though. That night when I was 16, the last night I ever drove down to collect my father, Parker was in the back room at JT's Roadhouse, discussing some city business or something with JT, and he heard the ruckus my father was making as I tried to get him to go with me. He was yelling at me, pushing me, and shaking me off every time I got even a bit of a hol
d on him.

  “And on this particular night, he took it a step further. When I grabbed him by the upper arm one time, he used his opposite fist to punch me right in the jaw.

  “That's when Parker intervened. He tackled my father to the ground, then pulled him up by his shirtfront, sat him on a stool hard, and told him he better not move a muscle. He had JT call the Sheriff to come and take him in for assault.

  “And then he leaned down close to him, and in a low menacing voice I never heard Parker use before that time or after it, he threatened my father. He said that if he ever so much as thought about laying a hand on me again, he'd kill him. Parker wasn't a violent man, but in that moment, I believed him. I could tell my father did, too, and that he'd remember it. I could see in his eyes that fear had sobered him right up.

  “That night, after the Sheriff drove off with my father cuffed in the back of the car, Parker put his arm around my shoulders and said, 'Son, you're coming home with me.' And I did. I started working for him at the resort. I lived in his bunkhouse.

  “My father never laid a hand on me again, in fact, I never even saw him again. That's not easy in a town this small. But I think he was avoiding me because he was so afraid of crossing Parker.

  “I'll never be able to thank Parker Jacobs for saving me, or put into words how much it really meant to me. He was more of a father to me, ten times more, than my own father was. I'll miss him forever.”

  Justin opened his mouth like he might have something more to say, but then thought better of it. He replaced the mic and walked back down the steps, tears rolling down his cheeks, but with his head held high.

  Amanda sat watching him, empathy and compassion fighting for space in her heart with shock. She had never heard that story, had not known that was the reason that Justin had come to live and work at Mountain Ridge Outdoor Adventures.

  Of course she had known about his alcoholic father, had known that his father could get hostile and abusive. But she had never known that her own father had gotten in a physical altercation with the man, had even threatened him! It was so unlike Parker, it was hard to reconcile that scene with the man that she herself had known.

  But it's true that he did have a soft spot for Justin, and he did have an overwhelming hatred for bullies, so she supposed that it made sense. Still, it was difficult for her to picture.

  She could only imagine that the fact that neither her father nor Justin had ever mentioned to her a happening which was so major was a significant indicator of how deep and sacred that event was to the both of them. It had happened, and neither of them felt the need to tell anyone or to discuss it. It was enough that it had transpired at all.

  --- ~ ---

  As the afternoon progressed, it started to become clear that the memorial service was going to last for many more hours, if the constant stream of people wishing to share one final memory of Parker were to continue unchecked.

  When Pastor Harrison had slipped down to kneel beside Amanda's chair during one of the tributes, his opinion had been – and Amanda had agreed – that Parker's wishes would have been to give anyone who had something to say the opportunity to speak, and let the event naturally draw itself to a close when people tired themselves out.

  Geoffrey, who had been privy to this entire conversation, leaned down to Amanda and whispered furiously, “I don't know what you're thinking about!”

  Amanda looked at him, taken aback, and replied, in the same furious whispered tones, “What do you mean, Geoffrey?”

  He angrily looked at his gold Rolex, “Even if every other person in this stadium has so little else of import in their life that they can sit around here all afternoon, you knew for a fact that I have a plane to catch. And yet you sit right here and agree to let this drag on indefinitely?”

  Amanda looked like she had been slapped. The color drained from her face, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  “Well, if this is such an inconvenience to you, you can certainly leave,” she said shakily.

  Geoffrey shook his head in disgust, looking again at his watch, although this time it was clearly more to make a point than to see the time.

  “Who knows how long this whole process is going to take? I have to leave,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance, “I'll call you tonight from Boston.”

  And with that, he stood and strode purposefully out of the stadium, not once looking behind him or making eye contact with Amanda.

  Justin, who had been seated in the row immediately behind Amanda, four seats over, had been in a perfect position to hear the entire conversation, and see Geoffrey leave. Before Geoffrey had even exited the stadium door, Justin had left his seat slipped into the one next to Amanda, taking her hand and squeezing it. He was rewarded with a grateful smile.

  The process of letting people give voluntary tributes to Parker took, as it turned out, close to five hours. Amanda was amazed that people sat through it – with no food, no water, and no shade. It was an amazing tribute to the love of an entire community for a giving and generous man.

  When the sky was just beginning to turn brilliant shades of orange and purple at its edges and the last person had finally spoken, Pastor Harrison called Amanda up to close the service. She took a deep breath and walked up to the podium, knees shaking.

  She took the mic and said, “Hi, everybody, and thank you so much for coming. Thank you to the people who saw my father everyday living here in town, and thank you to those who hadn't seen my father in years and traveled great distances to say goodbye to him. I know he held each and every one of you in his heart.

  “A lot has been said here today about how great my father was, how much he loved my mom and me, how much he loved this town and how much he gave to it. I think merely the fact that so many of you had such wonderful things to say about him – and that so many of you have patiently waited the many hours that it took for all of those things to be said – is the best illustration of that greatness that there is.

  “But, when it comes to me, I was his daughter. To listen to the things said here today, you'd think he was perfect, and I'm glad that to many of you he was. But to me...I grew up with him. As an adult, I saw him every day because I worked in the family business. I probably knew him better than anyone else, warts and all.”

  She smiled, “Yes, he did have flaws. For instance, he was stubborn. Oh man, was he stubborn!” She paused to let the laughter die down, “But in the end, that's how I truly know that he was great. I saw him at his best times, and his worst times. I saw his strengths, and I saw his weaknesses. And I'm here to tell you that he was the greatest person I've ever known.”

  Amanda stopped and wiped her eyes, and sighed, “There will never be a day that goes by, from now until the day I die, that I don't miss him. But, getting bogged down and maudlin about him would not have been what he would have wanted. In fact, the next part would have been his favorite. The part where we're going to eat. And laugh.

  “I had planned on hosting a reception in my home immediately following the memorial service, but now it's quite clear to me that – not only will my home not hold nearly all of you – but I didn't even make close to enough potato salad.” This drew a chuckle from the crowd.

  “But, rather than forgo what, like I said, would have been my father's favorite part of the day, this is my idea. I'm going to load up all the food from my house, and I'm going to bring it to the Riverside Recreation Area. Since the public open area stretches all the way down the banks of the river for miles in either direction, and it's lighted, it's the only public space large enough to hold a gathering this size.

  “You bring whatever you can down as well, and we're going to make this a potluck memorial service slash town festival. I think my father would have liked that. I think he would have liked that a lot.”

  --- ~ ---

  As Amanda neared her car and pulled her keys out of her handbag, Justin reached out and pulled the keys away from her.

  Amanda looked at him, surprised, an
d reached up to try to retrieve them. “Hey! What the...”

  Justin held them out of her reach and shook his head. “No way, lady. There's no way in hell I'm letting you drive after that emotionally draining afternoon. That was hours upon hours of upheaval, and I would imagine it pretty much knocked the stuffing out of you. I'll be driving.”

  Although Amanda could hardly deny the truth of this statement, she still took a small amount of umbrage at his presumption. “Do you think I'm not capable of driving my own car?” she asked testily.

  Justin looked at her, surprise written across his face in the form of a half smile, and shaking his head. “Amanda, honey,” he said wryly, “I think you're capable of anything you set your damn mind to. But just because you're capable of something doesn't mean that you should have to do it. You always take care of everyone. Let me take care of you for a change.”

  Amanda took a deep breath and felt all of the tension of the day seep from her muscles. Someone to take care of her. Oh, yes, that sounded so nice. Someone to worry about the details so she didn't have to. Someone to constantly keep tabs on her physical and mental well-being the way she constantly had others' well-being in mind. Someone who would ask her how she was, someone that she could talk to, someone who would assure her that everything was going to be OK...oh, yeah, she could definitely stand to relax into the idea of someone taking care of her. She could luxuriate in it. It was so tempting.

  But, she had to be careful when she took into account the fact that the person who was offering to let her lean on him was Justin. After all, when you've been on your feet for many long hours, standing on your own, the temptation to lean against something which seems strong and solid can be almost overwhelming. But what happens when you do transfer your weight, even partially, from your own feet onto the seemingly stable thing you're leaning on, and that thing suddenly disappears? That's right. You fall right on your butt.

  So, yes, while it may be more tiring to just stand on your own two feet and continue doing so, it was safer. There was a much smaller chance of finding yourself suddenly and unexpectedly tumbling ass over teakettle, possibly down a hill, headed toward a boulder or a tree...Amanda shook herself. She could mentally stretch this analogy into any number of lethal conclusions, but what was the point?