by Gary Parker
Although she tried to focus, Allie found herself distracted for most of the evening and offered Trey little help. Finally they said their good-byes, and she drove back home. In her bedroom she started to call the Masons again but then decided it was inappropriate since it was past eleven o’clock. Feeling frustrated, she pulled out some old stationery, sat down at her kitchen table with a glass of tea, and scratched out a letter to Walt and Beth Mason.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Mason,
I hope this letter reaches you both and finds you well. Perhaps you won’t remember me, but I’m the daughter of Gladys Wilson, over in Harper Springs, North Carolina. You were friends of my dad, Jack Wilson—perhaps you still are.
That’s why I’m writing you now, out of the blue.
I’m trying to find out what happened to my dad, where I might get in touch with him, if he’s still alive—I don’t even know that.
If you have any information about him, would you please respond by calling me collect at 423-771-2260 or by emailing me at [email protected]? You can, of course, write me back if that’s easiest for you.
Thank you for your help, and perhaps I can meet you sometime in the future.
Satisfied that she’d done all she could for the day, Allie signed the letter, addressed it, slapped a stamp on it, and left it in her mailbox for Monday pickup. Back in her apartment, she put on her pajamas, grown-up tan ones with no patterns this time, and climbed into bed. Patch jumped up beside her and snuggled down. Allie closed her eyes but found it hard to sleep. The image of her dad kept popping into her head—the eyes, always the eyes, staring at her.
What? she wondered. What are you trying to tell me?
She thought of Trey and considered the idea that some latent fear about marrying him had pushed up from her subconscious to make her go off on this wild goose chase but quickly dismissed the idea. Trey and she loved each other; they were the right age, it was the right time, everyone agreed they fit. Marriage with Trey made sense; she knew it as well as she knew that Patch had spots of black all over her. But if it wasn’t something about Trey, then what was it?
For the next two hours, Allie tossed and rolled under her covers and pulled her pillow over her head. Patch jumped to the floor and left the room after a while, obviously disturbed by her hyperactivity. Allie tried listening to some music, half expecting some lyrics about eyes to pour through the radio speakers, but thankfully, nothing of the sort happened.
Calming a little, Allie decided what she needed to do. Give it a few days, she concluded. Let her letter to the Masons go out; give them time to write her back. Until then there was nothing else she could do. Finally satisfied, she calmed herself enough to slip into a troubled sleep.
4
Allie spent Monday through Friday of the next week trying to focus on wedding matters. Since Trey’s mother had given them a cottage-style, three-bedroom house that had all the basics in place but needed a great deal of renovation, she worked for hours each day to help redo it. She donned old jeans and a sweatshirt to aid the painters Trey had hired, gave directions to the carpenters repairing the front porch where a column had rotted out, and watched anxiously as a flooring team put down new carpet, tile, and hardwood. In addition, the windows needed new drapes, the bathrooms completely new fixtures, and the kitchen new countertops and cabinets. She saw Trey every day after he left his office, but they didn’t talk much about anything but the most immediate concerns—the caterer wanted to charge them two dollars more per plate than originally agreed upon, one of the groomsmen had an emergency at the bank where he worked and didn’t know if he could make the wedding, and the airline company through which they had booked their honeymoon flight to Cancun had gone bankrupt and they needed to switch their tickets to another carrier. By Friday Allie wanted to pull her hair out; how did anyone ever get through the last minute wedding plan snafus?
As busy as she was, though, Allie’s thoughts never drifted far from the letter she’d sent to the Masons. Every day when she got home, she rushed to her answering machine to see if they’d called. When she came up empty there, she moved to her email messages but again found nothing. On Thursday she’d started checking her mailbox for a letter. If the Masons got her letter on Tuesday—Wednesday at the latest—and wrote back the same day, a letter might have reached her by Thursday. But she found no letter of response. She also repeatedly called the phone number the operator had given her, but the same computerized voice sounded back every time.
By Friday Allie had almost decided to let it all drop. If her dad was trying to beam some telepathic message to her through songs, television documentaries, and high-school girls’ basketball teams, why didn’t he also show her how to get in touch with him? Or if it was God wanting to snatch her attention—no, she didn’t really think that—but if so, why couldn’t God make it a little easier to move forward?
Allie tried the phone one more time late Friday but once more reached nothing but the computerized voice. She slammed down the phone and stood in her bedroom, her jaw clenched in frustration. Patch eased up to her ankles and rubbed against her.
“I’m done,” Allie said, picking Patch up. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Patch purred and licked her lips.
The phone rang. Allie jumped back and stared at the phone. It rang again. Patch looked at her as if to ask, “Aren’t you going to answer?”
Her hand trembling a little, Allie reached for the phone. Her mom answered when she said hello. Allie sighed heavily, disappointed and yet also relieved. What had she expected? A bolt of lightning, a last-minute call to give her directions on her absurd quest? Craziness, she concluded, premarriage jitters causing her to go off the beam for a few days.
“What are you doing?” Gladys asked.
“Just walked in from the house—been cleaning out the basement all day.”
“Anything I can help do?”
“You know how to grout?”
“Not sure what grout is.”
“I do, and you’re wise to stick to that story as long as you can.”
Conversation paused for a moment. Allie sensed something in the silence. Her mom was holding something back. “What’s going on?” she probed.
“I got a call,” Gladys said.
“What kind of call?”
“From Knoxville.”
Allie held her breath. “The Masons?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Their son, Chase.”
“What did he say?”
“His parents are traveling in Europe right now. He goes by their house every few days to check on things, pick up their mail, monitor their phone messages.”
Allie’s shoulders slumped. Although she’d considered giving up her search, disappointment still ate through her. If she didn’t find out about her dad now, she sensed she never would. Life would get too busy after her marriage; too many other things to call her away from some silly notion of locating her dad.
“Why did he call you and not me?” she asked, slightly perturbed.
“He said he tried you first, but no answer.”
Allie dropped Patch and moved to her window. “Did he say when his folks will come home?”
“Yeah, he expects them back the end of next week. He said he heard your message and found your letter. Wanted to know if this was some kind of emergency or something.”
Allie stared into the oak trees past her window for several moments and wondered the same thing. Was this an emergency—a once-in-a-life sliver of time that demanded an action that if not taken would be lost forever?
“I guess this is the end of it?” Gladys offered.
Allie weighed the matter and surprised herself when she answered. “Did Mr. Mason leave a number?” she asked. “Well, yes, he did. Said if it was an emergency, call him back. You’re not figuring on doing that, are you?” Allie stayed quiet.
“Look, the Masons aren’t available. You have a wedding in two weeks. I’ve indulged
you to this point, but enough is enough. If you want to contact the Masons when you get back from your honeymoon, fine. I’ll support that. But you’ve got to drop this for now; you know it as well as I do.”
“Just give me his number,” Allie said. “I’ll make one call.”
“What do you think he can tell you?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to try.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
Gladys started to speak again, but Allie interrupted her. “Mom, you said yourself, I’m a grown woman. If I want to do this, you have no right to stop me.”
“Not even if I think you’re being foolish?”
“Not even then.”
“Okay,” Gladys said. “Here’s the number.”
Allie grabbed a pen, wrote down the number, thanked her mom, and hung up. Not even hesitating, she punched in the number. Seconds later a male voice answered, a voice deeper than any she’d ever heard, like the man had found it on the bottom of the Mississippi River.
“Is this Chase Mason?” she asked, her heart racing. “It is.”
“This is Allie Wilson; I sent your folks a letter.”
“You called too, several times.” The voice sounded warm in spite of its depth, a voice that immediately inspired respect, maybe even awe.
Allie wondered what he looked like.
“You’re trying to reach my folks,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Is it an emergency?”
Allie hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Have you read the letter I sent?”
Chase chuckled, and Allie felt like the phone rumbled from the sound. “No,” he said. “I don’t read other people’s mail; it’s a crime, I think.”
“I need to talk to your folks,” she said, feeling embarrassed for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.
“I’m not sure exactly where to reach them,” he said. “They’ve been in France, Spain, all over the place. Kind of a lifelong dream trip finally come true.”
“You have a phone number where I can call them?”
“Not really. They call me every few days, not the other way around. They’re in one place today, another tomorrow.”
Allie’s frustration rose, and she spoke before she could stop herself. “You don’t know how to reach your mom and dad?”
“They’re grown-ups.” He laughed gently. “In an emergency I can track them down, I suppose; otherwise, I expect they’re old enough to make it on their own.”
Allie bit her lip and told herself to calm down. “It’s not an emergency,” she said.
“Okay, then.”
Allie knew she should say good-bye and hang up, but something kept her on the line.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Chase asked. “Read the letter I sent,” Allie said quickly.
“What?”
“The letter; you still have it?”
“Yeah, with my folks’ mail.”
“I want you to read it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, hang on a sec.”
Allie sat down at the kitchen table and waited while Chase left the phone. Patch lay down on her feet and yawned. Chase returned to the line.
“I’ve got the letter,” he said, his tone easy.
“Read it,” Allie ordered him.
Again silence. Allie picked Patch up and held her.
A minute later Chase broke the quiet. “I’ll help you track my parents down if you want,” he said softly.
Allie almost said yes, but she then remembered her manners. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother them on their trip,” she said.
“I’m sure they won’t mind, given the nature of your call.”
Allie suddenly got cold feet. Bothering the Masons on their trip seemed odd, out of place, almost kooky. What would she say if she reached them—“Hey, I recently received a revelation from God, and it told me to begin a quest to find my father”? They’d consider her stark raving mad.
“I think I’ll just wait until they return,” she offered.
“I’ll have them call you the minute they reach Knoxville.”
“I hope they get back before the wedding,” she said.
“I’m getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Allie’s mind locked, and she didn’t know what else to say, yet she couldn’t bring herself to hang up. Something about Chase’s manner, the soothing in his voice, comforted her and made her want to stay on the line.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said gently.
“What?”
“Why don’t you run over here to Knoxville, and we’ll talk.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“You want to know about your dad, don’t you?”
“But your folks aren’t there.”
“That’s true, but I am.”
Allie’s fingers gripped the phone more tightly. “I don’t understand.”
“I called him Uncle Jack,” Chase said.
“What?”
“Your dad. I knew him, called him Uncle Jack.”
Allie dropped Patch on the floor. “You knew my dad?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see him?”
“I think you need to come to Knoxville.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just come.”
Allie wanted to say no but couldn’t. Neither, however, could she just hop in a car and drive to Knoxville without more reason than this. “When did you last see my dad?” she asked.
Chase hesitated but then said, “About a year ago.” Allie’s head suddenly ached. Her dad had come that close to her but hadn’t visited her! “How was he?”
“Come see me, and we’ll talk.”
Allie considered her plans for Saturday, thought about what she would tell Trey, how she would explain a trip to Knoxville. He wouldn’t understand, she knew that, and if his mother found out... she didn’t even want to imagine the grief he, then she, would receive. Yet how could she refuse to go? She’d discovered someone who knew her dad, someone who had seen him! She easily made her decision.
“What about tomorrow?” Allie asked.
“That’ll be fine.”
“About noon okay?”
“Fine by me.”
“How do I get there?”
Chase gave her directions to an address off I-40, and she jotted them down.
“See you then,” he said.
Allie hung up and dropped her head on the table. Patch eased up, and Allie took her into her arms. “What am I doing?” she asked the cat.
Patch yawned, obviously as uncertain as she.
“What will I tell Trey?” she asked. “Or Mom?”
Patch licked a paw, and Allie rubbed her behind the ears. Without quite knowing why, she sensed that tomorrow she would find out something that would change her life forever. For the better or worse, though, she had no way to know, no way at all.
SECTION 3
When people are true friends, even shared water tastes sweet.
Chinese proverb
5
Gladys didn’t think much of Allie’s plan to go to Knoxville when she called to tell her about it the next morning.
“You got two weeks until your wedding,” Gladys said. “It’s half a day,” Allie said. “I’m there and back before dinner.”
“You don’t have a half a day to spare,” Gladys argued.
Allie thanked her for her concern and hung up. Although she respected her mom, she didn’t always follow her advice.
Thirty minutes later she met Trey at his school for a morning walk before breakfast. Sliding into step with him around the school track, Allie tried to calm down.
“Tile for the bathrooms at the house came in yesterday,” Trey said.
“Good.”
Trey smiled, and Allie decided she might as well plow right into it. “I’m
going to Knoxville when we’re done here,” she said.
Trey glanced at her but kept walking. “I’m sure you have ample reason.”
“I do.” She told him about the conversation with Chase Mason.
Trey’s pace picked up a little. “What can Mr. Mason tell you in person that he couldn’t say over the phone?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you ask him that question?”
“No.”
Trey’s arms pumped at his side. “Where are you meeting Mr. Mason?”
“His place; he gave me an address.”
“Do you think that wise?”
“I don’t understand.”
Trey stopped dead in place and stared at her as she stopped too. “You’re so naïve; that’s one of the things I love about you. But what do you know about this man? The world is stuffed with lunatics; how do you know he’s not going to lure you somewhere and... you know what I mean.”
“That’s absurd. He sounded...” She remembered Chase’s voice and felt relaxed just thinking about it.
“Absurd or not, I don’t like the idea of you running off to meet with another man.”
“Are you jealous, Trey?”
He started walking again, her beside him. “Why don’t you just call Mr. Mason back. Ask him anything you want, but not in Knoxville,” he suggested.
She considered the notion but then discarded it. “Mr. Mason is safe,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”