“There’s one other thing we need to discuss before we leave,”
Sandra said.
“What’s that?” Dee asked as she turned to face her.
“Your favorite charity. We agreed you’d give me a name and I’d make a donation for whatever I thought your lessons were worth.”
“Oh. Make it out to the Center for Special Children.”
“I’ll make it in your name. That way you’ll know I made the donation.”
Dee frowned. “I trust you. If you tell me you’re going to do it, I know you will.”
Sandra wondered how it would feel to have such complete trust in people. I trust Dee and Laura, she thought. And Margaret, Ida, and Connie. The more she thought about it the longer her list got. She smiled suddenly, grabbed Dee, and kissed her loudly on the lips. “Thank you.”
Dee returned the smile and gave her a long hug.
Another hour passed before they rushed out of Dee’s apartment.
0
CHAPTER 11
Dee and Sandra rode back to the bike shop in silence. Connie was talking to a customer when they came in. She waved to them before returning her attention to the customer.
“How do you want to handle getting your car and bike home?” Dee asked. They were standing outside her office door.
Sandra was glad she was not alone with Dee. It was too hard to keep from touching her.
“Could I leave the car here until this afternoon? I’ll bring someone over to drive it home,” Sandra said.
“I could drive it home for you tonight,” Dee offered, looking at her searchingly.
“Yes, you could, but I could also start missing you too much.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“I’ve found my lover in bed with someone else once. I don’t want that to ever happen to me again.”
0
Dee nodded. “It probably would with me,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to settle down, I guess.”
“I’ll never forget you.”
“You make it sound like good-bye.”
“Only to what happened between us last night,” Sandra assured her.
“There’s nothing that says we can’t get together for a little fun once in awhile,” Dee said.
Sandra smiled and hugged her tightly before going to retrieve her bike from the garage. Last night had been wonderful, but she could not handle a prolonged affair without a commitment.
Sandra went home and ate a breakfast hearty enough to make Margaret beam. Afterwards, she set about getting everything ready for her departure.
She called Allison, who would be handling both her personal and business affairs while she was gone.
At first, Allison had been uneasy about Sandra going off alone on a motorcycle, but the more Sandra talked about it, the more enthused Allison became.
“I think I’m jealous,” she said, after listening to Sandra describe the sensation of riding.
“I could take you for a ride,” Sandra said.
“No thanks,” Allison replied, waving off her offer. “I’m more jealous of your two months of freedom than I am of the mode of transportation.”
“Chicken.”
“Absolutely!”
After hanging up, Sandra dropped a check and a letter in the mail to the Center for Special Children for fifty thousand dollars. She changed into clean jeans and a shirt before emptying her purse on to the bed. She pulled out the things she absolutely needed and found they fit quite comfortably in her pockets. The rest she threw in a drawer. Exhaustion overtook her and she stretched out across the bed, thinking of the previous night. She drifted into a peaceful slumber with a smile on her face.
0
It took Sandra until the following Wednesday to get all of her affairs settled, say good-bye to the handful of friends she cared for, and to get Margaret to quit nagging her. She gave Margaret two months of paid vacation and a round trip ticket to Dublin, where Margaret’s sister lived. After that, Margaret forgave her enough to allow Sandra to close up the penthouse. Margaret would stay with Minnie until she left for Ireland.
Sandra packed a small backpack. At the last moment, she took the photo of her and Mr. Peepers and slid it into her wallet. She walked away from the penthouse without looking back.
Sandra rode her bike to Laura’s, where she planned to spend the night. Tomorrow morning she would begin her journey.
Sandra and Laura sat in the swing on Laura’s front porch.
“You’re sure you don’t mind taking care of the Jag for me while I’m gone?” Sandra knew Laura was in love with the car.
Laura placed her wrist dramatically against her forehead.
Its a nasty chore, but I’ll try to get through it. After all, I’d do anything for a friend.”
Sandra chuckled. They swung in silence, listening to the night creatures.
“Are you going to try to find your mom?” Laura asked.
“Yes. I need to know why she left. I want to know why Dad worked so hard to keep us apart.” She took a deep breath. When I was growing up, my dad was my entire world. We moved around so often I never really made friends. Thinking back, I see things in a different light now. The way he always insisted on being paid in cash.” One of the horses, in the corral behind the cottage, blew loudly and stomped.
Sandra continued. “When I went through Dad’s things after he died I never found a single canceled check, no tax returns, credit card slips. I never even found a driver’s license. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Laura nodded. “Did he ever give you any indication of why you moved so often?”
“He always said we were moving because there was a greater
chance of him getting a better paying job.”
“Did you believe him?”
Sandra shrugged. “He was my father. I never thought to doubt him. Until recently, anyway.”
“How do you feel about him now?”
Sandra had been asking herself the same question since reading her mother’s letter. “I’m not sure. I want to believe he didn’t keep us apart out of petty jealousy. I never saw him as the egotistical macho type. But maybe I never really knew him.” She sighed and shook her head. “He was my dad. I don’t think I could stop loving him. I just need to try and locate my mother and find out what happened.”
“How will you find her?”
“I’m going to the address on the letter and see where it leads me.”“Will you spend the entire two months in San Antonio?”
Sandra shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not making any long-term plans. I’m going to take each day as it comes.”
“There’s hope for you yet, Tater,” Laura said, squeezing Sandra’s arm.
Sandra gazed into the star-riddled sky. What would tomorrow bring? She experienced a twinge of fear mixed with excitement, but she had never felt more alive.
The day dawned in glorious hues of pink and purple. Laura insisted Sandra eat breakfast before she left. Sandra was so anxious to get on the road she could hardly sit still. When at last she felt she could politely leave, she found herself growing hesitant.
Laura seemed to sense her sudden doubts.
“Don’t get weird, Tater. This is going to be the greatest adventure of your life. This will be an adventure you can tell your grandkids about.”
“I won’t have grandkids,” Sandra reminded her.
“Okay, so tell my grandkids.” Laura hugged her tightly. “Get going before I start crying.”
Unable to speak around the knot in her throat, Sandra nodded and pulled on her helmet.
All doubts left her when the bike roared to life. She smiled as adrenaline shot through her.
“Don’t forget to call me,” Laura yelled over the noise of the bike.Sandra gave her a thumbs-up and slowly edged the bike toward the roadway.
City traffic made her nervous. Luckily, there was only a short stretch of heavy traffic before she reached the open roadway.
Wanting to enjoy the ride and the scenery, she chose a less tr
aveled route to San Antonio.
The wildflowers were beginning to pop up along the road-side. Sandra stopped several times to enjoy their beauty. For the first time in her life, she felt completely free. She could continue on to San Antonio to try to find her mother, or she could turn at any intersection and go wherever she pleased. The traffic was light and the sun was warm on her back. For the moment, life was almost perfect. Her only regret was no one was with her to share the beauty and excitement of the trip.
It was mid-afternoon before Sandra reached San Antonio.
She studied a city map and memorized the directions to the address on her mother’s letter. She tried not to let her hopes escalate out of control as she cruised through the quiet neighborhood. She found the address without any trouble and breathed a sigh of relief at finding the house still there. The house was a large, two-story red-brick. Over the years, the building had been divided into apartments. She circled the block three times before she got the courage to stop. She walked up the sidewalk slowly, wondering what she would say if she were to actually find her mother. She rang the doorbell on the door marked office. When no one answered, she turned to leave with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Who you looking for?” a voice called.
Sandra turned, but could not see anyone. She was about to decide she had imagined it when the voice spoke again.
“I’m over here on the other side of the hedge.”
Sandra walked toward the voice. “You’ll have to go out to the
sidewalk and come in through my gate.”
Sandra followed her instructions. High hedges surrounded the house next door. She pushed the gate open, finding an older woman in a wheelchair.
“They’re all out. Which one do you want?” She tugged at a wisp of curly, gray hair.
“I’m trying to locate Jessica Tate. I don’t know for sure if she still lives there. She lived here about thirty years ago.”
“Thirty years ago!” The woman sputtered, shaking her head and making a rude noise deep in her throat. “You’d be lucky to find anyone who’s been in there for thirty days.” She leaned closer to Sandra. “I think they run drugs.”
Shocked, Sandra looked toward the apartments. The hedges hid most of the building.
“Why are you hunting this woman? You a cop?” The woman glared at her through narrowed eyes.
“No, ma’am.”
“Don’t be calling me ma’am. Never liked to say it and sure don’t want to be called it. Name’s Hilda Cunningham.” She fixed Sandra with a sharp glare. “Who’d you say you were?”
“My name is Sandra. Mrs. Tate was a friend of my mother’s and I told her I’d drop by to see if she still lived here.” Sandra did not want to have to explain she was searching for her mother. She hoped the woman would not press her further for her name.
The old woman cocked her head to the side and closed one eye. “Tate, Tate. I don’t remember anyone named Tate. Course I’ve been living here since thirty-four, so I’ve seen too many people come and go to remember them all, I suspect.” She shook her head and stared at the apartments. “What did she look like?”
Sandra felt a sharp stab of pain. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. She had no memory of her mother’s face.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. You ain’t likely to find her after all these years.”
On that less-than-promising note, Sandra went to find a place to eat. She stopped at a small restaurant a few blocks away.
She knew her next step should be to hire a private investigator, someone with the skills and contacts to pursue the search. Now that she was here, she was again having doubts. As she ate, she weighed the pros and cons of continuing her search. A part of her wanted to meet her mother, yet she still harbored a deep fear her mother would not want to see her and would send her away.
At this point in time, she could still tell herself her mother had always loved her and there was a valid reason for her leaving. The letter helped reinforce her fantasy, but if her mother told her to leave, the rejection would be final.
When the waitress came to clear the table Sandra asked for a phone book. There were six Tates listed. None with the first name Jessica or the initial J. Opening the Yellow Pages, she copied the names and addresses of a few private investigators onto a notepad from her pocket. She might decide to call them later.
She did not know San Antonio very well. She had been here several times for conferences or an occasional meeting, but during those trips she usually only saw the route from the airport to the hotel.
San Antonio was the only major city in Texas she and her father had not lived in. She realized her dad had not taken any chances of running into her mother. She flipped through the Yellow Pages idly. Seeing a listing for restaurants, she scanned the list. During the next two months, she would probably get to know several of them quite well. Suddenly her finger froze over a listing for Peepers Diner. She saw a mental image of the photo in her wallet and the bear she held, Mr. Peepers. She started to close the book, but stopped and copied the address of the diner. It’s just a coincidence, she told herself, but she had plenty of time for wild goose chases. Why not check it out? She paid her bill and left the restaurant. Sitting on her bike, she studied the city map. Peepers was located on the far south side of town.
Between missing her exit and getting lost while trying to double back, it took her an hour to get across town and finally find the address. She spotted the huge blue and white sign announcing Peepers while waiting at a red light.
The diner was on a small side street in the next block. The large blue and white building sat on an ample parking lot and sported a 1950s motif. Cute idea, but a bad location, Sandra thought.
The light changed and she started forward. She was studying the building when a car darted out from behind a long row of high oleander bushes.
Instinct guided her. She knew she was going to hit the car. She turned her bike into a slide and managed to roll free as Dee had taught her, just before her bike slammed into the car. Stunned, she lay against the curb. Her left shoulder throbbed. She slowly took assessment of the rest of her body. Nothing seemed to be broken. Sandra heard the rustle of clothing as someone knelt beside her. She rolled over onto her back.
“Don’t move him,” a voice commanded.
“He’s moving himself,” a second voice answered.
Sandra’s shock was wearing off. She flipped up the visor on her helmet and started to sit up.
“I don’t think you should move.”
She looked up to see a woman with emerald green eyes filled with concern. An extremely short blond buzz-cut and a strong, slightly squared chin projected a sense of strength and determination.
These eyes are real, no contact enhancement here, Sandra thought.
The woman’s arm went around Sandra’s shoulder and supported her. Sandra’s heart did a rare tat-a-tat.
“Why don’t you lie back,” the woman instructed as she cradled Sandra’s head on her lap.
Maybe I shouldn’t get up too quickly, Sandra reasoned as she continued to stare into the woman’s mesmerizing eyes.
“Someone has gone to call an ambulance. It’ll be here soon,”
the woman assured her.
That bit of news shook Sandra from her mooning.
“I’m fine,” she replied, regretfully pulling away from the woman and inching her way to her feet.
The woman kept a firm grip on her arm.
“I’m fine, really,” Sandra assured her as she removed her helmet. She heard the woman’s breath catch when Sandra turned to face her. For a long second, their gazes held.
The arrival of a police car shattered the moment. Glancing around, Sandra was surprised to find a small crowd gathered around them. She located her bike. The front tire was under the car. She felt a wave of pain and anger. Dee had warned her about people who never paid attention to motorcycles. She glared at the crowd around her.
“Who hit me?” she d
emanded as she turned back to the woman. She would prosecute the careless fool who had destroyed her beautiful bike.
“I did,” the woman replied.
Before Sandra could retort, two police officers approached them. One of the officers led Sandra off to interview her.
He was a middle-aged man with a face so deeply lined Sandra wondered what he had witnessed during his life to age him so.
“I’m Patrolman Peterson. Are you hurt?” he asked. Sandra rotated her shoulder. “I banged my shoulder, but nothing is broken.”
He nodded. “All right. Tell me what happened,” he said as he removed a pen from his pocket.
“I had just pulled away from the light,” Sandra said, pointing at the traffic light behind him. “The next thing I know a car came flying out in front of me.”
He studied the traffic light, the driveway from which the car came, and the accident site itself.
“You’re lucky the bike slid,” Peterson said as he eyed the bike beneath the car.
“I had a good teacher,” she replied as she looked at her bike.
Dee’s guilt and persistence had probably saved her life, or at the very least, prevented her from sustaining serious injury.
The patrolman began to write out the accident report, and Sandra turned her attention back to him. He asked her a few more questions about the accident. After discovering she was passing through San Antonio, he took down her Dallas address
and recommended several downtown hotels she could stay in until the repairs on her bike were completed. As he was reciting the list of hotels, an ambulance arrived.
“Since they are already here, you ought to let them take you in and have your shoulder x-rayed,” he said.
Sandra declined. She did not need a doctor. Her suit and the helmet had protected her from the pavement. Her shoulder throbbed. She was sure a nasty bruise would result by morning.
Checking her shoulder movement carefully, she was certain no permanent damage existed. The woman who hit her bike was shouting at the other police officer.
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