Her Daddy's Eyes

by Gary Parker

  “No, I’m good.” He wiped his palms on the knees of his jeans.

  Allie dropped her head, her guilt strong. She liked having Chase with her; it felt comfortable. He was sensitive without being soft, strong without being threatening.

  She held up the phone clutched in her hand. “Guess I need to do this.” She exhaled.

  “Before it gets too late,” Chase agreed.

  She punched in the number. The phone rang on the other end. She stared at Chase. Somebody in St. Louis picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Allie Wilson calling from Harper Springs, North Carolina. To whom am I speaking?” Chase stood and moved close so he could listen.

  “Who would you like to talk to?” The female voice carried a slight accent.

  Allie tilted the phone so Chase could hear.

  “I’m not sure. I’m trying to find someone who might know a man named Jack Wilson. I’m his daughter.”

  “My name is Rose Linh.”

  “Do you know Jack Wilson?”

  “I’m not sure I should answer to a stranger.”

  “But I’m not a stranger. I’m Mr. Wilson’s daughter, and I desperately need to talk to him!”

  “Why?”

  Allie glanced at Chase, her emotions boiling. “I found a picture,” she stated. “I think you’re in it—you and my father. Do you know him?”

  Again hesitation from the other side. “Hold on a moment.”

  Allie heard Rose Linh drop the phone, then the sound of another voice, but she couldn’t make out the words. A few seconds later, the woman picked up the phone again.

  “You bring the picture and come to St. Louis. We’ll talk when you arrive.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “You say you need to see your father, that you have a picture. How do I know that’s true? You come, prove to me who you are. Maybe then I’ll have some information for you.”

  “But I’m getting married on Saturday!”

  “Come when you can.”

  “Is my father all right?”

  “You come to St. Louis. I suggest as soon as possible; that’s all I can say.”

  Allie searched Chase’s face for help.

  “Go!” he whispered. “You have no choice!”

  Allie focused again on the phone. “Would you give me an address, please?”

  Chase grabbed a pen from a table by the sofa and wrote the address on his palm as Allie repeated it from Rose Linh.

  “I’ll call tomorrow after I can make flight arrangements,” Allie told her.

  “Good.”

  Allie punched off the phone and collapsed on the sofa, her body weary, her emotions wrung out. Chase perched beside her on the sofa arm.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Allie moaned. “Trey will go ballistic if I go to St. Louis, probably Mom too. But how can I drop this now?”

  “You can wait until after the honeymoon.”

  Allie considered the possibility but sensed that she didn’t have that much time. Whatever her dad wanted her to know, she had to learn before the wedding.

  “I feel like I’m being squeezed between a tank and a dump truck,” she said. “Something bad will happen no matter which way I go.”

  She faced Chase, grateful for his presence. “What would you do?” she asked.

  “You know what I want you to do,” he said.

  “Whatever upsets Trey, right?”

  “I’m not without motive, I admit it.” He smiled.

  She pulled her feet under her. “No, really,” she said. “What would you do?”

  “It’s not fair for me to answer, because I can’t without bias.”

  “But how would a believer deal with something like this? That’s what I’m asking.”

  Chase chewed the end of his thumb for a moment. “A believer asks for God’s direction,” he said.

  “But how?”

  “Through prayer, the advice of trusted friends, Scripture.”

  “But how does a believer know when the answer comes?”

  Chase smiled. “You’re asking tough questions. Sometimes you don’t know until you look back and see how it’s all worked out.”

  “So you don’t get a blinding revelation—messages written in the clouds?”

  “Some people say they do; not me though. I just ask, then listen real hard, then act on what I believe I hear.”

  “But what if you’ve got a million voices speaking to you?”

  “Then you need to go see Trey the psychologist.” Allie laughed, and it felt good.

  “Listen,” Chase said, shifting a little closer to her. “I believe that if we’ll put ourselves in a quiet place and seek God’s heart and then keep our ears wide open, a lot of the voices will gradually fade away. We’ll end up with only a couple of voices talking—one beckoning this way, the other that way. Then, at least in my case, I can usually find a false note in one of the voices, something that doesn’t quite ring true. Once I hear that false note, I know what to do.”

  “And that always works?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows about always? I’ve just got thirty-five years on record.”

  Allie rubbed her eyes. “I’ve got some thinking to do,” she said.

  “I expect so. Should I leave now?”

  “Let’s have some coffee first. I don’t want you falling asleep headed back home.”

  After Chase left, Allie stepped onto her deck, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, and stared in the direction of the interstate where Chase was heading. Although she knew she shouldn’t, she wished he were still with her. She gazed at the twinkling stars. Quiet fell. She placed her coffee on the railing and leaned on her elbows. Several minutes passed. A soft breeze feathered her face and hair. The smell of honeysuckle blanketed the air. She concentrated on shutting out every sound except the whisper of her heart. Gradually the inner distractions became fewer. The opinions of her mom, her friends, even Chase slowly faded away. Everything calmed in her soul. Allie peered deeper into the sky, something beckoning her upward, farther than she’d ever gazed. Now, as she looked past the heavens, only two impressions remained: Trey’s and one she recognized only dimly, like a vague whisper from the edges of the universe—the voice of her father.

  Trey said, “It’s all silliness. Be logical.”

  Her father said, “Be open. Follow your heart.”

  Trey said, “You’re at a transition point, a natural time for old hurts to arise. But that’s all this is.”

  Her father said, “Life is more than logic. It’s also mystery, miracle.”

  Trey said, “Your father is dead.”

  Her father said, “I’m alive.”

  Trey said, “If you go, I fear for us.”

  Her father said, “If you don’t go, I fear for you.”

  Trey said, “Do what I say.”

  Her father said, “Do what you believe will bring you peace.”

  Allie heard the false note, and it broke her heart. She wiped her eyes as the tears formed but knew instantly what she needed to do. Tomorrow morning, as early as possible, she would make one more phone call. What happened after that only the stars, God, whoever, could know.

  10

  Allie found Gladys in bed when she dropped by Monday morning. Dark circles surrounded Gladys’s eyes, and her skin was pale. Her hands trembled as Allie sat down beside her.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” she asked.

  “Just feeling weak. You know how I can get.”

  Allie kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll get you some breakfast,” she offered.

  “No, I’m fine really.” Gladys pushed up as if to get out of bed, but Allie gently forced her back down.

  “You stay right here,” she insisted.

  Gladys closed her eyes, and Allie hurried to the kitchen, quickly prepared toast with jam, tea, and a bowl of fruit, and hauled it back to Gladys on a tray.

  “I know you don’t eat when you get like this,” she said, setting the food on the bed.

/>   She handed Gladys a piece of toast. “You’ve had too much on you lately,” Allie continued as Gladys nibbled.

  “Maybe so.”

  “I know so.”

  Allie opened a window and turned on the overhead fan as Gladys ate another few bites. “Need some air in here,” Allie said.

  Gladys sipped from the tea, then put the cup on the tray. “What are you doing out so early?” she asked, patting the bed for Allie to sit.

  Allie eased close to Gladys. Although she feared her timing, she couldn’t lie about what had happened. “I’m going to St. Louis today,” she said, anxious and excited at the same time.

  Gladys’s eyes widened, and Allie continued. “I may have found Dad.”

  Gladys sat up straighter, fluffing her pillow behind her back. Allie quickly filled her in on all that had transpired in the past few days. How she had visited Walt Mason, read the letter from her dad, visited the safety deposit box in Asheville, found the picture with the phone number, and talked to the Vietnamese woman in St. Louis. She kept her eyes fixed on her mom as she talked, hopeful she wouldn’t push her over the edge with so much news. When she finished, Gladys folded her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw.

  “You did all this without telling me a thing!” she accused.

  “I worried about you... didn’t think I should say anything until I knew more.”

  “I always hoped you wouldn’t do this,” Gladys said, “but I guess it was inevitable.”

  “Probably so.”

  “What does Trey say?”

  “He’s not happy; I haven’t told him about my plan to go to St. Louis.”

  Gladys shook her head. “This won’t be good.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You could lose Trey if you insist on this.”

  “Not if he really loves me.”

  Gladys studied Allie for several seconds. “You’re willing to take that chance, aren’t you?” Surprise rode her voice.

  “I suppose I am.”

  Gladys stared toward the window. “Did you bring the picture with you?” she asked.

  Allie produced it from her purse and handed it over, and Gladys inspected it and then gave it back to Allie. “Jack never said what happened in Vietnam,” she whispered. “I imagined all sorts of things but never this.”

  “You think it’s true, then? Dad took a Vietnamese wife?”

  “Look at that girl’s eyes, dark as yours, your dad’s.”

  “But you said he loved us!” Allie stood.

  “He did! I know that!”

  “Then there’s got to be another explanation, something we can’t see or understand.”

  “I can’t imagine what that is.”

  Allie sat back down. “I have to find out,” she said. “And I have to do it now.”

  “The letter suggests he’s already dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you think he’s alive.”

  Allie nodded.

  “But why? Nothing indicates that.”

  Allie wanted to tell Gladys about the voices from the deck, how the one in her heart told her to keep going, that her dad was alive. But she didn’t know how to explain it, so she said, “I just know it, that’s all.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “I hope it’s worth it.”

  Allie lay down by her mom and hugged her close. “We both need to know,” she said. “One way or the other.”

  Gladys closed her eyes. “I’m tired,” she said.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Allie said.

  “Will you talk to Trey before you go?”

  “Of course.”

  “I hope he understands.”

  “Me too.”

  Allie said the words, but they sounded hollow the instant they fell from her tongue.

  Eight hours later Allie stuffed a bag into the overhead luggage bin on a plane to St. Louis, plopped wearily into the window seat, and snapped her seatbelt for takeoff. Chase sat beside her, his feet edged toward the aisle.

  Allie shook her head at Chase. “You really shouldn’t be here,” she said.

  “I know.”

  Allie’s shoulders slumped with grief as she recalled her visit with Trey that morning. He was already at their house in his painting clothes when she’d reached him. He’d held a paintbrush as she told him of the phone call to St. Louis and advised him of her plans to take a quick trip to see if her dad was alive. Trey had slammed the paintbrush into the can as she finished.

  “This is unbelievable!” he’d stammered. “You’re going halfway across the country just five days before the wedding to find a father you haven’t seen since before you started school?”

  “But everything for the wedding is in order!” she’d argued. “All you and I have to do is show up on Friday and Saturday!”

  “This house isn’t finished!” he’d reminded her, waving toward the ceiling.

  “We’ve got our whole lives to finish the house!”

  He’d spun on his heel, then faced her again. “You going with this Chase guy?”

  “I want you to go with me,” she’d tried to soothe him. “Just a day, then right back. I want you there.”

  He’d picked his paintbrush back up and shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

  “But my dad might still be alive.”

  “Not from the sound of the letter he wrote.”

  “But I can’t be sure.”

  He’d held the brush at his side. “This is your quest, not mine.”

  She’d moved to him, taken the brush from his hand, and wrapped an arm around his waist. He’d stayed still, sphinx-like. “It should be our quest,” she’d said. “Don’t you see? This is important to me, so it should be important to you too.”

  “Finishing this house is important to me, should be important to you too.”

  “But the two things don’t compare!” She’d backed away and clenched her fists at her sides.

  “To me they do. My folks lived in this house, my grandparents before them. My mom gave it to us for our wedding; all we have to do is renovate it. To leave it now, before we finish it, seems wrong, disrespectful. We said we’d do this together, but you haven’t... haven’t kept your part in that bargain. It makes me wonder if you’re always going to be undependable.”

  Allie had felt shocked. “I don’t get it,” she’d said. “What’s to get?”

  “You’re a psychologist, you help people, you’re sensitive to people. But... here... now...” Allie had grasped for words. “You’re comparing a house, even one as sentimental as this one, to a person’s father, my father? How can somebody trained in human emotions do something like that? It seems so... so cold, so... uncaring.”

  Trey had closed his eyes, then opened them again and gazed at her. “You’re distancing yourself from me,” he’d said softly. “I don’t know why, and I can’t do anything to stop you, but all of this—the whole matter of your dad—it feels too unreal, too random for it to be anything but that.”

  “But I’m not. I—”

  He’d held up the paintbrush to stop her. “Think about it on your trip,” he’d suggested. “See if there’s not some truth in what I’m saying.”

  Allie had almost reached for him again, but he’d waved the paintbrush, indicating she should go.

  “I’ll be back by the end of the day,” she’d offered.

  “I’ll be here.”

  “We’ll talk then.”

  “That will be good.”

  “Trey?”

  He’d squatted down to the paint can, then looked up and smiled. She’d rushed to him, kissed him on the forehead, then hurried from the house before she’d started to cry.

  Now, on the plane with Chase, Allie still couldn’t make sense of what had happened between her and Trey in the past two weeks. Right now it seemed that Chase underst
ood her while Trey didn’t, that Chase seemed to care about her feelings more than Trey did, that Chase seemed—and she really hated to admit this—steadier, more grounded, more substantial than Trey. Add a sense of humor to that, not to mention his good looks, and... She pushed away the thought.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said to Chase.

  “It’s not what I saw in my future a week ago either.”

  The plane lifted off.

  “I’m getting married Saturday,” she said.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  She shook her head.

  “What?” Chase asked.

  “Trey suggested I was using this search for my dad to distance myself from him.”

  “Are you?”

  She stared out the window as the clouds rose beside her. “No.”

  “Then he’s wrong. You’ll see him tomorrow, make up with him, walk down the aisle on Saturday, and live happily ever after.”

  “What will that do to your idea that I’m supposed to marry you?”

  “Blow a hole the size of this jet in it.”

  Allie stared out the window for a few seconds, then said, “What if I’m not the one using this to create distance between us?” she asked.

  “You’re suggesting Trey is doing what he’s blaming you of doing?”

  “You think that’s possible?”

  “They’re cloning babies now; anything is possible.”

  “But he’s a therapist; he should know it if that’s what he’s doing.”

  “A doctor always makes the worst patient.”

  Allie folded her hands and played with the possibility. Could Trey be looking for a way out of the marriage, even at this late date? Was he using this conflict to express his discontent with her? To create distance between them without feeling any blame? But didn’t he love her? Yes, she had faults. She procrastinated too much, she got moody every now and again, a stubborn streak ran up her backbone, and she could show a temper occasionally. But was that enough to make Trey break up with her?

  “It’s scary,” she said.

  “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Trey can call off the wedding, that’s what!”

  Chase shrugged. “That’s not the end of the world.”

  “Not to you, maybe.”

  “So it’s embarrassing. You return some wedding presents, and you’re out some cash. But think of the other side of it.”