by Evan Ansot
While he could always count on nature, women on the other had come and gone.
First, in 2000, there was the widow with three kids who was looking for someone to replace her deceased husband. She was a wonderful toy to Eddie, but he wasn’t in the mood to be a replacement father. Secondly, in 2005, there was the woman he met in Alcoholics Anonymous, whom, if it was possible, was even sicker than he was. He couldn’t even look at or talk to another woman at the meetings without getting the third degree once he got home. Lastly, in 2009, there was the hot blonde whose goal in life was to go to the bars every Friday night and dance all night long. Minding his sobriety, she didn’t last very long.
Not that it was all their faults—not by a long shot— Eddie had done his fair share of screwing up relationships. It got to the point where he didn’t much give a damn whether they worked or they didn’t. Once he realized he didn’t want them anymore, he would just shut himself down from them, withdrawing all feelings from them until they had enough and left.
Now that he was nearing fifty years of age, he figured he would just be an electrician, live in nature, and raise dogs the rest of his life. If a woman came along who could understand him, then it would be wonderful for Eddie. If not, then so be it. But he couldn’t find one yet who could grasp his complex mind, nor did he think he ever would.
Trying to find a spiritual woman was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He tried a couple of churches, but most of them were taken or very materialistic. All they wanted to know was how much money Eddie made. With his gifts, he could see right through their deceptions. He ventured to a couple of retreats held for those new-agetype people to see what they had to offer, but in Eddie’s mind all they wanted to do was hold hands, pray to the moon goddess, and sing “Kumbaya” all night long. That wasn’t for him either.
He began to adopt a few hobbies. Besides nature and reading, which he always loved, and softball, which he had played for over twenty years now to keep his body at least halfway fit, history and genealogy became a couple of his favorites.
He remembered his grandfather Ronald Dudley tell him, “Eddie, your name used to mean something back in England.” Eddie never thought much of it until the last couple years. His grandfather had his family line traced back from Michigan back to Hamilton, Ontario, to Bristol, England, and finally on to Worcestershire, England. Twelve generations of Dudleys going back to Sir Edward of Worcestershire county back to the time long before the American Revolution. His knowledge of history told him that Dudley was an Anglo-Saxon name that had links back to England and more than likely mainland Europe before that.
The last couple of years Eddie would research further into this surname, Dudley. He didn’t get any further than Sir Edward, but he would find further branches of Dudleys in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and England.
While researching one night, he decided to activate an account on Facebook and look up as many Dudleys as he could. He found many in England, Canada, and Australia, and about ten different states in America, mostly in Michigan and Florida.
Twice he was banned from Facebook for inviting total strangers to be his friends. Apparently, a complaint was made against him. Eddie didn’t know he actually had to know someone to befriend them, so he learned this lesson the hard way. He couldn’t befriend someone for a month due to this transgression. Those fools, didn’t they bother to look at their last names and realize that this was all for research? Someone must have complained, and Facebook had to take action for this seemingly outrageous act. Eddie was surprised he didn’t get the death penalty for it.
Despite the warnings from Facebook, Eddie managed to befriend forty-five different Dudleys around the globe. They came in all shapes and sizes, from twenty-oneyear-old Steve, who’s attending college at Notre Dame, to eighty-six-year-old George, who was a retired greens keeper in Bristol, England. He found out he had distant cousins everywhere.
One of them was Elizabeth Dudley of Sydney, Australia.
When she received Eddie’s request, her first instinct was to ignore it. Who is this? Edward Dudley from Bald Eagle Bluffs, Michigan? Is this some long-lost relative of mine? Elizabeth wondered. Being a private person, she didn’t have much of a friends list—two dozen or so people, mostly colleagues from work. She couldn’t be bothered with anyone new that she didn’t know.
Before she befriended or ignored him, she sent him a message. “Who is this?”
The next day, Eddie answered. “A Dudley like you. I’m doing genealogical research on the Dudley family.”
“What do you wish to know?” Elizabeth replied to him.
“Well.” Eddie hesitated. I’d better move slowly with this one, she’s quite cautious. “First, how much do you know about your genealogy? How did the Dudleys arrive in Australia?”
She laughed to herself, This guy must be an idiot, and how does anyone arrive in Australia? In chains of course! She typed to him, “I’ve no idea about our family’s history, Bob is my father, and his father is Ronald. That is all I know.”
Eddie looked at Elizabeth’s reply and thought, Well, I can see this one here isn’t of much use. She has no idea where she came from. Yet something deep within him told him to ignore that and keep the conversation going with the Australian woman. “Would you mind friending me?” he asked. Who knows where this could lead. Maybe she has a brother who has a clue. She certainly doesn’t.
Elizabeth thought, Now, why the hell would I want to do that?
As soon as she asked herself that question she heard her Grandmother Nina, who had passed away two years earlier, say, “Lizzy, connect with this man. His roots run deep within you.”
So because of her late grandmother’s wishes, she befriended this Edward Dudley from Bald Eagle Bluffs, Michigan.
Elizabeth had a routine each night. To ward off evil spirits, she would meditate and be able to contact her grandmother whom she missed greatly. Now there she was, her grandmother talking to her without any meditation technique beforehand. This must be very important for Nina to do that. “His roots run deep within you.” What is that supposed to mean?
So she answered Eddie and told him she would, but she had to go and tend to her daughters. She also said she’d speak again tomorrow if that was okay with him. She said whatever it took to get rid of this man at the moment. She needed to talk to Nina before she went on any further with this guy.
That night, before bed, she would put herself under and have herself a talk with Grandma Nina. After she performed her ritualistic form of meditation beforehand, to make sure that nothing evil could enter into her travels, she put herself in her meditative trance. Nina entered her mind, and they had themselves a little chat.
“Nan, who is this man?” asked Elizabeth. She called her grandmother either Nina or Nan; either would do in such circumstances.
“I am limited in what I can tell you about him, to do otherwise would violate,” answered Nina.
“Well, what can you tell me about him?”
“He’s a special man, favored by the Father,” said Nina.
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” said a frustrated Elizabeth. “What do you mean special and favored by the Father?” she pried.
“They won’t let me tell you. Sweet child, you are going to have to figure some things out on your own. But I can tell you this: he is meant to be in your life,” said Nina.
“Well, that just made him all the more intriguing,” said Elizabeth.
“Indeed. I wish I could tell you more, but they won’t allow it.”
“Me too, Nan,” and with that last comment, Elizabeth nodded off to sleep.
March 21, 2014
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
For four months Eddie and Elizabeth kept up with their
Facebook conversations. There was something very special about these two. A feeling of familiarity seemed to penetrate both, and it didn’t take long to open up to each other. A deep, inner feeling felt by Elizabeth more than Eddie at first, but he
would come around in time. Elizabeth, being the more sensitive of the two, felt it first. It scared her in the initial stages, but her Grandmother Nina would come to the rescue during the night to tell her it was okay for her to trust this one. “He’s true, Lizzy, you can tell him how you feel without getting hurt.”
She fought the feeling tooth and nail, preferring her shell that she liked to crawl into instead. It was safe there, and one couldn’t get hurt that way. It took her months to quit calling him Edward and start calling him Eddie.
One night during their second month of communications, she almost unfriended him. But once again, it was Nina who talked her out of it. “Why are you fighting this, Elizabeth? Don’t be afraid.”
So she took a rather large risk and told him all about herself and her strange upbringing. Her nightly visits by the spirits didn’t seem to faze Eddie one bit. He told her he had been an expert in that field and proceeded to tell her all about the night with the hand and the near-death experience he had. This made her feel more at ease with him. He seemed to understand what she had been going through, and the unusual didn’t bother him. Strange, spiritual experiences seemed to be a common denominator for both.
She was falling in love with a man who lived on the other side of the planet, and it shook her to the core of her being. He lives in Michigan, for god’s sake. Why couldn’t he at least live somewhere in Australia? And where the hell is Michigan anyway? She had to Google it all on the Internet. She had been to California once for medical purposes for the twins but never in the heartland of the United States. And from the looks of things on her map, Michigan was off the beaten path. It looked like that state with all those huge lakes around it.
They exchanged pictures, and she thought he wasn’t bad looking, a little rough but sexy in a rugged sort of way. The type of guy who looked like he belonged in a log cabin up in a mountain. Robert Redford in Jeremiah Johnson came to mind. It was a beautifully set picture of him holding up his kayak along the Manistee River, the picture of nature with the picture of the river and the woods behind him.The picture of Eddie with that smile of his and those bright, green eyes. Where do those eyes come from? Mesmerizing to say the least, she thought.
She looked at this picture of him nightly, wondering about this man who seemed to be captivating her mind in a way not felt by her in this lifetime. Her soul stirred at the thought of this man. She was having sexual feelings that had long been dormant for her. What is it with this man? Maybe he had cast a spell on me? Who is this guy, and how did I end up letting him in?
She was dismayed with herself for letting her shields down. Elizabeth was having mood swings, ranging from being happy and content to sad and downcast for the same exact reason—having him be a part of her life. It would be so much safer for her to tell him good-bye, but there was no way she was going to let that happen.
He became a routine with her. Once a day, when he was just beginning his day and she ending hers, they’d spend half an hour or so together, communicating through messages on Facebook. His words burned through her entire being. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Eddie seemed to know her better than she knew herself. How can this be happening? she pondered.
Then the day came when she needed more than that. Elizabeth told Eddie about a phone application he could download to his smartphone. This way they could talk on the phone without all the international charges. He downloaded the application to his phone, and she called him.
“Eddie, is that you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “How are you doing?”
She blushed at the sound of his voice and almost fainted.
Never in her life has she heard such a strange accent. But she liked it. “Eddie, it is good to hear you.” She had no idea what to say at this point; her knees were knocking, and he would have to break the ice here. Elizabeth was on the verge of passing out.
“You sound, good Elizabeth. Do all Australians sound like yourself ?”
She blushed again. She thought to herself, He’s a real charmer, this one. I wander how many women this man has charmed the panties off ? Oh, Elizabeth! Don’t think like that, you’ll get yourself in trouble that way! “We have different dialects here, just like you do in the States.”
“None like yours,” was Eddie’s response. He continued, “You sound wonderful, your accent tickles my ears.”
She laughed. Tickles his ears? “I like yours too, it sounds rather…”
“Canadian?” asked Eddie.
“Yeah, a bit Canadian,” she answered. She’d met a few Canuck tourists in Australia in her time, but none of them were quite like his. To her, Eddie’s was different.
“Well, that is because I’m just a stone’s throw away from Ontario,” he said.
With them talking of each other’s accents, the ice was broken.They had talked on the phone for the first time, and both knew there would be many more to come. Night after night she spoke to this man and opened up her heart and soul to him. Never before in her forty-two years of living had she ever opened herself up like that. It made her feel so vulnerable, petrified of her feelings for him, yet she couldn’t help herself, and she would have to press on with this man from Michigan.
She became addicted to him. She became completely vulnerable to this intriguing man from Michigan.
Keeping Eddie a secret, she wouldn’t bother telling her daughters of him. He became her happiness, and she wanted him all to herself. Until one day when she was studying his image on her computer, her daughter, Joan, walked by and saw him.
“That’s my daddy!” exclaimed Joan. “That’s the one I see in my dreams!”
Elizabeth nearly fell off her chair. “What?”
Joan moved closer to study his image on the background of the computer, “Mommy, that is my Daddy, he comes to me in my dreams. Can you print a picture of him?”
Elizabeth was incredulous. “Sure, honey, I can do that.” She managed to regain enough of herself to print an image of Eddie on her printer. What is my daughter talking about? Her daddy? Has the whole world gone insane?
As soon as it was finished, Joan grabbed the image and raced to her twin sister, Jessica, who was in the twins’ bedroom playing with Elizabeth following close behind.
“Look, Jess, it’s Daddy!” said an excited Joan as she was handing the image to her sister.
Jessica took the image, studied it, smiled the largest smile Elizabeth had ever seen her with, and proceeded to kiss the image of Eddie. After she kissed it, she held it so she could study it, and the only words to come from her mouth was, “Daddy, my daddy.”
Elizabeth was floored by this turn of events. What are the twins talking about? James is their biological father, but the two are saying otherwise. She was watching both very intently looking at the picture of Eddie.
“Mommy, make a picture of Daddy for both of us so we can hang on our wall,” said Joan. “I can’t believe we finally found him!”
“Sure, honey. What makes you think he’s your daddy?”
“He is, Mommy, we see him in our dreams,” was all she could say about him. They both seemed to dream of this man. Their recognition of his picture was instantaneous. Elizabeth was baffled and about ready to have herself a breakdown.
“You see him in your dreams?” asked an Elizabeth, who, at this point, was visibly startled.
“We have for years, Mommy,” answered Joan.
“Years?” said Elizabeth.
“For as long as I can remember,” said Joan.
The words stunned, floored, shocked would be understatements to what Elizabeth was feeling at this point. How can Eddie be the girls’ father? That’s impossible! The IVF process I went through was completely secure. James had signed several legal forms and donated his sperm. There is no possible way the girls can be telling the truth, she mused. But they don’t lie, they never have. And the way Jessica looked at that picture was unmistakable. I’ve never seen that reaction from her before. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen
Jessica smile like that.
That night Elizabeth, called her mother, Helen, and had her come over to watch the twins so she could be alone. Her mother had asked her what was wrong, but Elizabeth couldn’t say anything. The truth is she needed to be alone so she could communicate with her spirit guide, her Grandmother Nina.
She put herself under in her usual fashion and proceeded to speak with Nina. Elizabeth called her what she had always called when she was a child, Nan.
“Nan, are you there?”
“Yes, child, what is it?” asked Nan.
“You see, more than me, Nan, you saw what happened today with my girls,” said Elizabeth.
“I did indeed, are you surprised?”
“Of course I am! What are the girls talking about, Nan?” Elizabeth was baffled that her Nan seemed to know something she didn’t and hadn’t bothered to tell her of it.
“Are you wanting to know if this man is their father?” asked Nan.
“Of course!” said an incredulous Elizabeth. It seemed obvious to her why she was talking to Nan, why she was being so coy with her.
“Honey,” started Nan, “do you remember at their birth the shock of everyone over their blood type?”
“Well, sort of,” answered Elizabeth. It was such a rough childbirth that the whole thing seemed a blur to her. There was so many complications, that it was a miracle all three survived it.
“Also, do you remember the physicians asking you if either James or you had ever gotten a DPT vaccination?” said Nan.
“I remember that part,” said Elizabeth. And then she added, “Neither of us had.”
“Sweet child, haven’t you ever found it odd that their blood matches neither yours nor James? And that they both showed signs of the DPT shot, yet neither of you have ever received that?” stated Nina.
“Nan, can you speak more plain to me?” Elizabeth was getting frustrated at this cryptic sequence of questions she was being asked.
“Eddie is their father,” declared Nina. She paused then added, “He always has been, and the children have always known it.”