Touching Cottonwood

by Randall Simpson

  “Excuse me, Ms. D’Arcy,” said the sheriff, grabbing the doorknob before Diane could push the door open. “I think I’d like to go into the house first—if you don’t mind.” He turned and looked at the Reeses. “I’m going to ask that you all stay outside on the porch here.” He then looked at Sparky. “Deputy, you stay outside as well—and please make sure they all do the same.” The sheriff turned on his flashlight, drew his pistol from its holster, and began to step inside.

  Diane grabbed the sheriff’s arm that held the flashlight. “What the hell is going on here, Sheriff? Why do you have your gun out?!”

  The sheriff looked at her and then glanced at the concerned looking Reese family. “There’s more going on here tonight than you all know about. I can’t explain it right now. Please, all of you, just stay out here with Sparky.”

  “This is my daughter’s house! I should think I can go in if I want to!” replied Diane as she started to move forward again.

  Sparky grabbed her by the arm and held her back. “Ms. D’Arcy, please…”

  Diane glared at him but stopped.

  With his pistol and flashlight pointed inside the darkened house, the sheriff pushed the door open and stepped inside. The rest of the group stood on the front porch, watching through the window as the sheriff’s flashlight worked its way back further into the house.

  “Why isn’t he calling out her name?” asked Diane in a panicked voice after a few moments. “I don’t hear him calling her name!” She looked at Sparky first and then at the Reeses, who also then looked at Sparky.

  Sparky was silent.

  “That is odd,” said Amanda. “Shouldn’t the sheriff be calling out Rebecca’s name? What’s he doing?”

  “Like the sheriff said,” Sparky finally declared, “there’s more going on right now than you all know.”

  “Stop this secrecy crap, Sparky!” said Diane, stepping right up to Sparky and looking him in the face. “My daughter hasn’t shown up for work! Tell me what the hell is going on?!”

  Before Sparky could answer, lights started turning on in the house, and the group turned and watched. A few moments later, Sheriff O’Neil appeared again at the front door, putting his pistol back into its holster.

  “I’ve searched the whole house,” said the sheriff. “There’s no one here.”

  Diane immediately stepped up toe-to-toe with the sheriff. He was a bit taller, but she glared up into his eyes. “You need to tell me right now, John—why did you have your gun out? I’ve got a missing daughter—not a missing criminal!”

  The sheriff looked at her for a moment, drew a deep breath, and then glanced at the Reeses. “I guess you’ll all find out soon enough—we have an escaped criminal we’re dealing with in Cottonwood tonight. We were over here looking for him when the Reeses showed up—looking for Rebecca.”

  “An escaped criminal!” exclaimed Diane. “Escaped from where? Why would he be here at Rebecca’s?!”

  After another pause, the sheriff said, “It’s Matthew Duncan. He escaped earlier this evening. This is one place we thought he might head to.”

  For a moment, no one said a thing as bits and pieces began falling into place in different minds—some correctly, but far more, incorrectly. Each mind was building a jigsaw from the same pieces, only some had fewer and some had more—though none of them knew exactly what the entire puzzle looked like. Of the group, Chelsea had the most interesting piece of all, for she knew she’d seen the man the sheriff was now looking for—in the window of Rhonda’s Bridal & Floral—appearing to be quite free and wanting her to keep it a secret. She planned to do just that, as she turned the piece over and over again in her mind, trying to discover how it might fit and connect with all the others.

  “May I go in now—Sheriff?!” Diane finally said as she pushed by him and into the house without waiting for a response.

  The sheriff watched her for a moment and then turned back to face Dr. Reese, Amanda, and Chelsea.

  “Folks,” began the sheriff, “I’m going to need to speak with Ms. D’Arcy privately. I think it’s best if you all just go about your other business now.” He then looked at the doctor. “Doctor Reese, I’d appreciate some regular updates from you if Rebecca should somehow show up at work tonight. I’ll keep you posted as well on any progress we make in finding her.” The sheriff then looked at Sparky. “You stay here at the front door.”

  “I’ll call work again, and we’ll at least drive down and check at Ernie’s,” replied Dr. Reese.

  “Shouldn’t I stay here with Diane?” asked Amanda. “I think she might need someone right now.”

  “Maybe you could come back later, Ms. Reese,” replied the sheriff, “after I’ve spoken with her.” The sheriff gave Sparky another guard the front door reminder look as he turned and went into the house.

  Chelsea made no protest as Dr. Reese took the keys from her and drove the three of them to Ernie’s Diner. Chelsea ran inside and came back out a minute later. No one had seen Rebecca at all during the evening. They then drove to their house where Dr. Reese dropped Amanda and Chelsea off and decided to continue on alone as he drove to the Home. He wasn’t sure what good he could do there, but he thought his presence could potentially be comforting if any of the staff were getting upset by Rebecca’s unaccounted for absence.

  Dr. Reese drove north along the highway out of Cottonwood. At about two miles from town, he passed Eddie’s house on his right. Just a little further on, he drove his silent and shiny new electric car directly over an equally silent and shiny object resting on the roadway. His passing headlights reflected brilliantly in the facets of the small object. Had he seen its rainbow reflections and bothered to stop and pick the object up, he would have instantly recognized it; he had seen it for the first time only the day before. As it was, both his eyes and tires missed the object. As Dr. Reese passed on, the object remained resting undisturbed on the cool, damp blacktop of the empty highway, alone under the stars, waiting patiently for other eyes to seize upon its light.

  Eighty-One

  Back to the Farm

  A flood of memories filled Matthew’s mind as he approached the final turn in the road. Just ahead, the outlines of the farm buildings became visible in the darkness, lit up only by a few scattered yard lights. Toward the right, he recognized the main greenhouse and the two smaller ones on either side of it, and off to the left, the Yamamoto family home.

  He left the highway and walked up the long gravel road leading to the complex of buildings. Several hundred feet from the highway, the gravel road split into three separate roads—one of them led off to the left, toward the house; one went straight ahead, toward one of the smaller greenhouses; and one veered off toward the right, in the direction of the larger greenhouse and second smaller one. Matthew took the road toward the house.

  The home was surrounded by trees of various species, though in the darkness, they blended into a continuous solid curtain of leaves and branches that hid the full view of the house from the main road. At scattered points in this curtain of dark foliage, the light from inside the home would escape through the windows. With the slight evening breeze washing across the branches of the trees, these scattered points of light seemed to dance in rhythm to the wind, creating a living kaleidoscope of dark and light.

  He stepped onto the porch and then up to the front screen door. Through the screen, he saw a light and heard voices coming from somewhere further back in the house. He knew it was coming from the kitchen area—a kitchen where he’d shared many meals with his adopted family. He knocked lightly on the door, and the voices continued. He knocked a second time, more loudly. The voices stopped. He heard footsteps and saw the silhouetted outline of a person coming toward the door from the direction of the kitchen. A small woman appeared at the other side of the screen door.

  At first the woman paused, but then exclaimed, “Matthew?!”

  “Hello, Takara,” he replied, smiling broadly.

  Takara turned around and yelled back i
nto the house, “Amida…Miki…come here, quickly! It’s Matthew! Come quickly!” She then opened the door and stepped onto the front porch, giving Matthew a big hug—her head coming to the center of his chest.

  “I don’t believe it!” she said, pulling herself away to look up at him. She wiped away a few tears. “We thought we’d never see you again!”

  From behind Takara, a short man, only a few inches taller than she, stepped onto the porch from the house, followed by a taller and younger man.

  “Matthew! This is such a surprise,” said Amida Yamamoto, the shorter man, as he nudged Takara out of the way and gave Matthew a strong hug. “After so many years! And now you suddenly appear on our front porch! Such a surprise!”

  The taller and younger man stepped over and also gave Matthew a strong hug. Miki Yamamoto was much taller than his parents but still a few inches shorter than Matthew.

  “You always did like big surprises,” said Miki. “You’re still taller than me, but not by much. I think you’ve put on a few pounds though,” he added, poking Matthew mockingly in the stomach. Matthew didn’t flinch. Miki squeezed Matthew’s bicep. “Well, at least I see you’ve been keeping in shape!”

  Matthew put his hand on the top of Miki’s head. “Yes, and you’ve gotten much taller! The last time I saw you, I think you maybe came up to my waist.” Matthew then smiled at Takara and Amida. “I’m sorry I didn’t call in advance. I left the last place I was staying in a hurry and didn’t have a chance.”

  Takara reached up, putting her hands on each side of Matthew’s face, and pulled his head down to hers. “Let me get a good look at you,” she said. She studied his eyes carefully. “Yes, you’re still the honest young man I remember. You are telling the truth. You didn’t have a chance to call.”

  “No cell phone?” asked Miki. He then looked out to the drive in front of the house. “And where’s your car? Oh, I suppose you don’t have an electric one.”

  “He’s probably walked from town, Miki,” said Amida.

  “No, I don’t have an electric car, and, yes, I did walk from town,” said Matthew. “It’s a beautiful night, and I had a pleasant walk out here.”

  Amida motioned toward the screen door. “Well, let’s not stand out here on the porch all night. Please, let’s go in.”

  The four stepped from the porch and into the living room of the house. Decorated with simple elegance in a Japanese motif, each meticulously placed item was of exceptional quality and beauty. The three Yamamotos, who were barefooted, paused just slightly as they entered, waiting for Matthew to unlace and slip off his hiking boots before setting them next to several pairs of sandals near the door.

  “Matthew, you are hungry perhaps? After your long walk from town?” asked Takara.

  “No, I’m fine,” said Matthew.

  “Some tea, perhaps?” she then asked.

  “Yes, I think some tea would be wonderful,” said Matthew.

  They moved to the brightly lit kitchen and sat around a large oak table. Amida and Miki sat across from Matthew, while Takara went over to the stove to prepare the tea.

  “So, tell us where you have been the last few years?” said Amida. “You stopped writing at least three years ago. That was very unusual for you. You’d written us so many nice letters, and then you disappeared from the world. We thought maybe you forgot about us.”

  “I thought maybe a bear had eaten you,” added Miki. “There are bears in that park in Washington, right?”

  “Yes, there are a few,” laughed Matthew. “And, I’m glad to say, I managed to keep from being their lunch or dinner.”

  “And so, what have you been doing that has kept you from writing us?” Amida asked again. “Did the forest service stop giving rangers pens and paper?”

  “No,” replied Matthew with a smile. “I’m sure they haven’t, but I don’t work as a ranger anymore and haven’t since I stopped writing.”

  Amida paused and stared at Matthew. “No longer a ranger? What have you been up to then?”

  “Up until a few weeks ago, I was doing some work at a prison.”

  “A prison?!” said Takara from across the room, almost ready with the tray of tea. “How do you go from working as a forest ranger to working in a prison?”

  “Well, let’s just say that both involve a kind of stewardship—only each is of a different nature.”

  “And they did not have pen and paper for employees at this prison?” asked Amida, studying Matthew closely.

  Matthew knew there was no hiding anything from his old friend—the man who had become a second father to him. There was no reason for Matthew to hide anything from any of these three, as they were the closest thing he had to a family, except now, of course, for Rebecca.

  Matthew looked at Amida and said calmly, “I was not an employee of the prison, Amida—but an inmate. I chose not to write to anyone during my time there.”

  Takara paused in the middle of the kitchen with the tray of tea as Matthew said this, before continuing over to the table. There was silence as each of them took a small cup, and Takara carefully poured tea into each.

  After sipping tea for a moment, it was Miki who braved to break the silence first. “So what did you get busted for?”

  Amida and Takara glared at Miki.

  “That’s none of our business, Miki,” Takara said calmly but then looked at Matthew to see if he would respond.

  “That’s all right,” said Matthew, smiling. “Miki has always been so naturally curious. I like that about him.” Matthew turned to Miki. “I was put into prison for manslaughter. I was innocent of that charge but was found guilty anyway. It was necessary.”

  “Necessary?” asked Takara. “What do you mean?”

  “My job in the prison,” replied Matthew. “It was necessary I go there to do that job. I was needed.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Takara. “You were innocent but had a job at the prison? This is very confusing to me.”

  Matthew reached over and put his hand on Takara’s shoulder. “I will tell you more sometime. It does get confusing. Just trust me that I was innocent of the charges against me but made the best of my time in prison by trying to help others there.”

  Amida had been watching Matthew closely and spoke up immediately. “I know you could never be guilty of such a thing,” he said. “Being sent away to a prison is not always a sign of guilt. My father and grandfather were sent to the Japanese internment camps during the war, though they had done nothing wrong. They were locked up for no fault of their own. You should, however, have written us and trusted that we’d understand.”

  Matthew smiled at Amida. “Yes, I should have written, and thank you for your trust and faith in my innocence. I also failed to write another important person in my life, but she forgave me for that. I hope you can do the same. I’ve learned that trusting a friendship is always the right thing—trust is the fertilizer of friendship.”

  “Of course, we forgive you, ” said Amida, smiling. “It broke our hearts when you stopped writing, but you are one of our family, and though we thought we’d lost you, we could never turn our backs on you. I think you’ve learned a lesson—trust friendship, and keep a supply of pens and paper!”

  “I did feel sad when you stopped writing,” said Takara, “but I stopped and spoke with Rebecca several times over the years when I’d meet her in town, and she said you stopped writing her as well. Her sadness made me feel guilty for any I might have had.” Takara looked sternly at Matthew, exactly the way a mother would. “I hope you’ve apologized to her as well. You broke her heart, you know.”

  Matthew welcomed Takara’s look. He knew he had returned to his family. “I have apologized to her, and even more than that…I’ve married her.”

  “Married!” exclaimed Takara. She glanced at Amida, who was smiling, and then back to Matthew. “You’ve married her and didn’t invite us to the wedding?! When did this occur?! I’ve not heard of it! Now, for this, we may not forgive you!”

 
; Matthew looked at Takara and then put his hand on hers. “Please, don’t be upset. It happened very suddenly. We’re planning to have a reception with close friends and family a bit later on. We did it very quietly last week. You are now one of only a few people who know.”

  Takara leaned over in her chair and hugged Matthew. “Well, I’m so happy for both of you—you’ve done the right thing. I guess you’ve made up for your many years without writing.”

  Amida, who had been silent for a few moments, finally said, “So many secrets you have…from prison…to a quiet marriage. And all these secrets appear on our doorstep the same week the Dead Zone also appears. The connections are auspicious. I am happy you have returned. Are you now planning to stay in Cottonwood? We have no prisons here, but is there some job here for you?”

  Matthew smiled at the depth of Amida’s insight. “Yes, I’m planning on staying here in Cottonwood. I—”

  “He could work here with us again!” Miki blurted out.

  Matthew smiled at Miki. “If your father would have me.” He then turned back to Amida. “I do have another job I’m currently working on though that could delay any other work for a while. Perhaps though, we could speak about these things a bit later.”

  Amida nodded. “Of course, we’d take you back here—that is, if you still don’t mind getting your hands dirty for a living. But, yes, we’ll spend some more time together later.”

  Matthew nodded to Amida and then looked over at Takara. “So, how is Ichiro? Are his children getting big?”

  “He’s doing quite well,” said Takara, “and my grandchildren are my precious gems. Perhaps we should call him. Though it’s getting late, I’m sure he’d want to come over to see you.”

  “I’d love to see him as well, but there’ll be plenty of time for visiting later, now that I’m moving back. So he’s still living in the area and helping with the business?”