Her Daddy's Eyes

by Gary Parker

  “I expect so.”

  She held up the key. “It’s been worth it, no matter what happens.”

  “I think that’s a good way to look at it.”

  She inserted the key and turned the lock. The box clicked, and she pulled it open, stepped to a small table, and set it down. Chase quietly followed. Allie peered inside. A large manila envelope stared back at her, and she pulled it out, opened it, and poured the contents onto the table.

  Two small wads of cash lay before them, and she pushed the money aside without bothering to count it.

  She found her dad’s dog tags next. Her fingers touched them as if she were holding diamonds. “He wore these in Vietnam,” she said, holding them so Chase could see.

  Chase lightly touched her shoulder, then pulled his hand away.

  Allie turned again to the envelope’s contents—her dad’s honorable discharge papers from the Marines, then a smaller envelope under that. Allie picked it up and showed it to Chase.

  “This is it,” she whispered weakly. “Whatever I’m supposed to find is in here, I just know it.”

  Chase moved closer. She could feel his breath on her neck, could smell the woodsy smell that seemed as much a part of him as his deep voice. Fighting her thoughts of Chase, she tore open the seal on the envelope and spilled out the contents.

  Pictures again—at least ten.

  But of whom?

  Allie picked up the top photo—a color shot of her dad standing in front of a bar somewhere, a guitar in his hands, his hair long and wavy. She studied the image and wanted to know its history but knew she might never have the opportunity to do so.

  She laid it down and looked through several more of a similar kind. Her dad here and there, gradually getting older as the years passed, other people—strangers all of them—in some of them, her dad alone in others.

  Allie’s hands stilled as she reached another picture. A willowy Vietnamese woman—quite attractive—stood by her dad, he in his military uniform. A little girl stood by the two of them, her face showing unmistakable signs of both Vietnamese and American parentage. The girl’s eyes were as dark as Allie’s and seemed to stare out from the page, much like her dad’s had when she found his picture two weeks ago.

  Allie’s eyes watered, and the picture blurred. She handed it to Chase, then hurriedly looked through the last three pictures in the envelope—two of them of her dad alone, the last one showing Allie with her mom and dad. She looked about the same age as the Vietnamese girl, and her eyes seemed just as dark, only not as intense.

  Allie faced Chase. He opened his arms in sympathy, and she sagged into them and sobbed.

  “I didn’t want to believe it,” she cried softly. “But... I can’t... can’t deny it any longer. Dad had a Vietnamese wife and daughter.”

  “There may be other explanations,” Chase offered. “But what? How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Allie’s tears stained Chase’s blue shirt.

  “I’ve got a half sister,” she moaned. “That’s what happened in Vietnam. That’s the source of dad’s guilt. That’s why he couldn’t stay with me and mom.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chase said. “I’m sorry.”

  Allie leaned into his strength and thought of Trey. She wondered how he would have responded to this and wished she could say for sure that he would have been as sensitive as Chase. Although he was a psychologist, a man skilled in helping others deal with their emotions, Trey often seemed unable to face his own. Was he a doctor who couldn’t heal himself? Or was she the problem, too spontaneous for his rigidity, too intuitive for his science, too something for his something?

  She suddenly felt afraid, unsure of the future, and that scared her so much that she started to sob again. Chase didn’t move, didn’t do anything to take advantage of her, just stood like a rock and let her lean on him.

  Allie thought of Gladys and tried to figure out how to report this to her. Indeed, she wondered whether she ought to tell her at all. Gradually, her tears subsided, and she leaned away from Chase and wiped her face.

  “I’m a mess,” she said.

  “A little smeared mascara but not too bad.”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve been so kind,” she said.

  “That’s me, kind man.”

  “What am I going to do?” she asked, pointing to the picture in his hand. “What do I say to my mom?”

  “It’s up to you,” he said.

  “Do I keep looking for my dad? Try to find this Vietnamese woman?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “But where do I start and when?”

  “Not for me to say.”

  “You’re a big help.”

  “I’m a kind man, not a controlling one.”

  Allie smiled slightly at the irony, then reached for the picture. As Chase handed it over, she caught a glimpse of the back and saw something written on it. She flipped it over.

  555-888-4615.

  “A phone number,” she said, holding it up for Chase to see.

  “Unbelievable.”

  “You think it can be that simple?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “My cell is in my car.”

  “If that’s what you want to do.”

  “Where’s that area code?”

  “Not sure.”

  “What will Trey think if I do this?”

  “I don’t think it should be up to him what you do.”

  “Or Mom?”

  “She’ll support you, I’m sure.”

  “She’s fragile right now, and this could upset her. Maybe I need to think about this, what kind of Pandora’s box I might open if I call this number.”

  “Whatever you decide, I’ll help you if you want.”

  Allie flipped the picture over and studied it again for several seconds, then shoved everything but the photo back into the big envelope, put the box back up, and led Chase out of the bank and back to her car.

  After thanking Chase again, Allie left him and drove straight back to Harper Springs, her mind a swirl of confusion. Although she didn’t call the number on the picture, she did call information to ask about the area code. The operator told her it came from Missouri and the exchange sounded like St. Louis.

  Reaching Harper Springs right after noon, Allie headed straight to Trey and found him sitting on a sawhorse in the kitchen. His khaki shirt was covered with paint, and his face was perspiring from his labors. A glass of tea and a ham sandwich sat before him on a workbench. Allie stepped to him, gave him a quick hug, and placed the picture on the bench.

  “What’s this?” he asked, examining the picture. “You tell me,” she said.

  “Looks like your dad kept more secrets than anyone knew.”

  Allie’s heart fell. She’d hoped Trey might come up with some other explanation for the photo. “Check the back,” she said.

  He turned it over and saw the phone number. “What’s your next move?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to decide whether to call the number or not.”

  “Interesting,” he said, rubbing his chin.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  He tossed the picture onto the bench. “You should leave your father where he obviously wanted to be left... out of your life.”

  She grabbed the picture and blew dust off it. “That’s your best advice... as a psychologist?”

  He took her hand. “No, it’s my best advice as a fiancé. We’re a week away, or have you forgotten that while you traipsed around the mountains with Chase Mason?”

  Allie pulled away, her face red with increasing anger. “You’re missing the point!” she argued. “Chase is a friend; I’ve told you that. He’s helping me do something I want to do, something I would expect from you but haven’t gotten!”

  “So now I’m coming up short in comparison to Mr. Mason?”

  “No... yes... look, Trey, you’ve had trouble with this from the start. I know that, but it’s something I
can’t run from.”

  “If you were a counseling client, I’d call you obsessed,” he said. “And that’s never a good thing.”

  “Not even if it leads to a good end?”

  “It never does. That’s just the problem.”

  He picked up his tea glass and sipped from it. “You’re going to call that number, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  “Even if I forbid it?”

  Allie bit her lip to keep from lashing out. When she finally did speak, she kept her tone as even as possible. “I’m not a child,” she said, “and I won’t be treated like one.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Allie started to step to him to push his hair out of his eyes and ease away from the precipice she felt they stood on, a precipice that led to an abyss she didn’t want to fall into, but Trey interrupted her before she could move.

  “You mentioned a few days ago that this would make you happy,” he said. “But what about my happiness?”

  Allie straightened, surprised that he wanted to turn the focus to him. “I don’t see how any of this hurts your happiness,” she said.

  “You know I want the house finished before the wedding.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I want us to do it together.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I don’t want you running all over the country with some strange man.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Then why aren’t you complying with anything I want?”

  “I’ve told you why... I can’t escape this, whatever it is... that’s the only explanation I have.”

  He grinned sarcastically. “Yes, the song, the dreams, the message from on high regarding the eyes, oh, the mysterious eyes. How can we deny them? It’s practically equivalent to the angels telling Mary she’d give birth to the Son of God.”

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “What do you expect?” He threw the tea glass to the floor, and it broke into a thousand pieces. “It’s totally irrational, a side of you I’ve never seen. If you came to my office with this story and then acted the way you have the last two weeks, I’d be hard pressed not to advise hospitalization and medication.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  He stared at the floor. “Maybe not, but listen...” He gazed up at her, his eyes confused. “You’re a sensible woman. Why this sudden leap into religious mumbo jumbo?”

  “I told you I can’t explain it.”

  Trey wiped his forehead with a pocket handkerchief. “Will you go find this woman if you reach her?” he asked, pointing at the picture.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  Trey glanced at his boots. “Yes, you have,” he said. “No reason to lie to yourself... or to me.”

  Allie realized he’d read her correctly. “I have to do this,” she said.

  “We all have to do what we all have to do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Make your call. Let me know what you find out. Then we’ll see what I mean.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Trey looked her dead in the eye. “I will not be made a fool of,” he said.

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  He waved her off. “Go on. I’ll be here when you want to talk.”

  “I don’t want my mom knowing about this just yet,” she warned. “No reason to bother her until I know more.” Trey shrugged but didn’t speak.

  Once again Allie wanted to go to him, but he picked up a sanding machine and switched it on. Seeing no other option, Allie pivoted, left the house, and drove home. No matter what Trey did, she had no choice but to make the call to St. Louis. After that who knew what would happen?

  SECTION 6

  Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.

  Arthur Schopenhauer

  9

  Allie spent the day between her apartment and her mom’s house, cleaning things out, throwing things away, making phone calls to her bridesmaids, who were scheduled to fly in on Thursday, stacking more presents as they arrived. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t keep her mind off the St. Louis phone number. Although she now had it memorized, she still hadn’t called it when the sun dropped. For some reason she didn’t want to be alone when she made the call. What if the woman was her dad’s Vietnamese mistress, the girl her half sister? She didn’t want to hear that kind of news by herself. But who did she want with her?

  Not her mom in her frail state. Besides, she hadn’t even told her about the number yet.

  Not Trey either—he’d shown he wanted no part of this.

  She had a lot of girlfriends she could call. But how do you explain a circumstance like this to a girlfriend?

  She rejected the idea and thought of one other person.

  Chase. He was the one to be with her. But that felt wrong. In spite of her troubles with Trey, he was still her fiancé and in less than a week, her husband. What kind of woman would flee to another man at such a crucial time? To make it worse, if she went to Chase, he might wrongly interpret it, and she didn’t want that.

  More confused by the minute, Allie went to bed right at nine. Sadly, though, sleep wouldn’t come. After an hour of tossing and turning, she got up and tried to call Trey but got no response, so she called Gladys.

  “Hey,” her mom said. “What’s up?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “I know the feeling. You’re less than a week away now, an exciting time.”

  “That’s not it,” Allie said.

  “What then?”

  “Me and Trey. We had a fight. I’m not sure what he’s thinking right now.”

  Gladys took a breath. “A fight before a wedding is normal; don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s more than that. He’s mad that I’ve tried to find Dad, thinks I’ve lost a screw or two.”

  “He’s jealous, that’s all.”

  “Of what?”

  “Your time, your focus. He’s caught up in preparing for the wedding, finishing the house. He wants you to feel as passionate about it as he does, and when he sees you distracted, it makes him think you’re not.”

  Allie chewed at a nail. “I’m not sure I am,” she admitted. “How so?”

  “I don’t know... Trey seems so controlling lately, condescending, like he knows everything. If he’s this bad before we get married, how’s he going to be once I’m his wife?”

  Gladys hesitated, and Allie kept going. “I don’t know, Mom, it’s so scary right now. I’m... wondering about some things.”

  “Not your marriage to Trey?” Her mom sounded panicked.

  “I don’t think so, but... this has me thinking about other things, bigger things.”

  “What’s bigger than a marriage?”

  “God, maybe?”

  “God?”

  Allie chuckled at the notion she’d rolled out, how funny it must sound to Gladys. “Forget it,” she said. “Maybe I do have a screw loose.”

  “You’re nervous, that’s all.”

  “You’re right. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Allie hung up and fell back into bed.

  She tried Trey’s number again but didn’t reach him. Probably at his mom’s, Allie figured. At his mother’s request, Trey kept his cell phone off when he visited her. She wanted his total attention, she told him, no interruptions from a phone.

  Her cell phone in hand, Allie shuffled to her deck and looked up at the stars. Then, before she could stop herself, she called Chase. He answered immediately, almost as if waiting for her call.

  “You still up?” she asked.

  “It’s just ten fifteen; I’m not eighty. Any news?”

  “Nope. I haven’t called St. Louis yet.”

  “Scared?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to be alone when I call.”

  “Trey’s not into it, is he?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you don
’t want to upset your mom.”

  “You’re such a wise man.”

  “I’m wise and kind; what more can you want?”

  “Humble would be good.”

  Chase chuckled. “You want me to be with you when you call?”

  Allie leaned over the deck. Although she’d called for just this reason, hearing it said frightened her. It moved their friendship to a new level, and she didn’t know how to handle that.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I figured I’d never see you again. Wedding next Saturday, you know.”

  “I don’t mean to press, but you know I’m your friend.”

  “You won’t try to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state?” she asked, half teasing.

  “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. As long as you’re engaged, I’m a friend, nothing more.”

  “I need a friend right now.”

  “I can be there in an hour and a half.”

  “Is that too late to call St. Louis?”

  “They’re an hour behind us. I can be there by eleven forty-five, ten forty-five their time. That should be okay—in an emergency, anyway.”

  Allie quickly gave him directions to her place. “Chase,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Park in the back, okay?”

  “I read you loud and clear.”

  She hung up and studied the stars again. What in the world was she doing? Although not sure, one thing was certain. She trusted Chase. If he said he’d be her friend, she could count on that. She retreated to her bedroom and began to dress, her heart thumping with a combination of fear, guilt, and excitement.

  Chase arrived at just past eleven thirty, and Allie opened the door before he reached it. She quickly waved him inside, glanced around to make sure no one had seen him, and shut the door.

  “You’re acting like a criminal in a hideout,” he said as she turned to him.

  “I feel weird,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’ll leave if you want.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re here. I’ll make this call, then you go, okay?”

  “You’re the boss.”

  She pointed him to her TV room, and he sat down on the sofa. She flipped off the television that played quietly in the background. “Want Coke, tea, water?” she asked.