“Maybe I am a lost boy. I don’t know who I am, at least half of me, that is. I don’t know my grandparents on my dad’s side. I don’t know my relatives. Not even my father. I feel like a half-baked orphan. I never would have believed it until just a few days ago. Then some deep, dark secret pops out when you least expect it. Now I have to deal with it. To be honest, I don’t know if I want to.”
“It has to be hard. But you realize there are people who love you even if you don’t have a direct bloodline to them. Like Elvina. Despite everything, you’re her grandson, through and through. And that’s what counts—the love you’ve had for each other all your lives. You need to look at it that way, Neil.”
He chuckled. “We’re sure good for each other, Debbie, telling each other how to have a positive outlook. I would almost venture to say we were made for each other.”
He saw her inhale swiftly. A red tide flooded her cheeks. She stared down at her cappuccino. Nothing came out for several moments. The seconds of solitude were agonizing. “What I meant is, we seem to have the right words to say to each other when the going gets rough,” he added hastily.
“I guess we do.”
The conversation became stilted after that. A short time later, they were saying good-bye and going their separate ways. Neil sighed in disappointment. He shouldn’t have brought the conversation to such a personal level. He didn’t need to thrust all his problems on her, even if he did feel an unmistakable attraction for her. Though he did agree with his assessment that they were made for each other. They helped each other when life dealt out one trial after another. They stood together, supporting one another. And God showed He cared, through an attractive woman named Debbie.
Neil spent the rest of the day idle, paying little attention to the insurance claims mounting on his desk at work. Instead, he gazed at the table and a miniature twinkling Christmas tree that one of the secretaries had placed there. He considered his past, present, and future, even though he had made light of it when Debbie first asked him. The past had now reared its head, even when he wanted to leave it alone. God had seen fit to resurrect it. Maybe he needed to deal with it—not only the other grandfather issue, but the idea of not having a dad and losing out on that part of his life. Until now, he hadn’t realized that, perhaps, there were things he needed to resolve in his heart, a deep aching, a hole that a dad never did fill. Sure, Mom had brought his uncles around for the influence of men in his life. But as he’d recently learned, they weren’t even his true relatives on his dad’s side. They weren’t truly his family. And it made him feel strange.
Later that evening, Neil headed to his mom’s house. It sat dark and silent but for the white lights left burning on a few outside bushes. Using the key to open the kitchen door, he ventured inside. Immediately he inhaled the delicious aroma of dinner earlier that night. Meatloaf. Raiding the refrigerator to make a meatloaf sandwich, he then headed to the basement and Mom’s place for storing everything under the sun. He was looking for a clue, something that would link him to this strange man who went off to fight at Normandy. Some name that could help him with an Internet search. Something tangible he could hold on to and not let go.
An hour later, he was still rummaging through boxes of old snapshots. There were a few of his father as a youth. He recognized Gram in many of them. Scribbled on the back, in his grandmother’s stately handwriting, were the words: Al, 1950, ten years old. Al, 1952. Then he found one labeled Al, 1948. He was getting closer. His heart began to thump in anticipation.
Suddenly a door banged upstairs. Oh no. Was it time for his mother to be home already?
“Who’s here?” her voice called out. “Sandy?”
Neil froze. He stuffed the pictures back in the box as footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Just me, Mom.”
“Neil?” His mother appeared as he sat guiltily on the floor, surrounded by photo boxes. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Gram confessed to a friend of mine, Mom. Grandpa Joe is not my true grandfather. His name was Samuel.”
Her hand flew to her forehead. “I have a terrible headache, Neil. That’s why I came home early. I can’t take this right now.”
“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, Mom. But please, I just need a little information. Like Dad’s real name before the Jenson family adopted him. That’s all I need. Then I’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”
“Why do you insist on doing this, Neil?”
He stared, surprised she would ask him. “So I can find out about my true grandfather. Mom, this is important. It’s like any adopted child who wants to know about their real parents. What if this man had some kind of family gene we don’t know about? Like genes for cancer, heart disease, or a blood condition. Sandy and Dick should know, too. I can research the Internet for the family tree.”
“Well, what harm is there? All right. His last name was Truett. T-R-U-E-T-T.” She collapsed in a chair. “Your father told me about the man from what Elvina relayed to him as a youngster—that his father’s name was Samuel Truett and that he went off to war. He fought in the battle of Normandy. He wrote Al and Elvina once and then was never heard from again.”
“Does anyone know what happened to him?”
“No one knows. Elvina always hung on to the hope that he was alive, maybe living somewhere in France. If that were the case, then why didn’t he check on Al? We always believed he died in the war. But no one knows for certain. There was no record. I think he was even listed as missing in action, but I’m not sure.”
“I know there was a lot of confusion at the battle of Normandy, with GIs being in the wrong place and with the wrong units. He must’ve gotten lost in it all.”
“Really, Neil, it was so long ago. I don’t know why Elvina is bringing this up and dragging you into the middle of it. It just isn’t right.” She stood up and headed for the stairs. “I need some hot tea. But after tonight, I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”
Neil looked at the box of pictures at his feet. He felt bad, putting this kind of stress on his mom. Maybe he should let things go and let the past stay the past. But he couldn’t shake the vision of Gram wanting to know what happened. And this was Dad’s father. He had a desire to know. A right, even. And he hoped Mom would understand.
❧
Neil wasn’t certain what to say or do when he came to see Gram a few evenings later. He had called the facility to leave a message that he would not be in for several days. He spent that time hunkered down at his computer, doing every kind of a viable search for Samuel Truett. There were Web sites devoted to veterans of the Normandy invasions. He managed to find Samuel’s unit and where they fought, but little else. There was not even conclusive evidence as to where he might have ended up, whether dead on the beach or somewhere in France. It was a bit of consolation, at least, to see the name of his actual grandfather there on the computer screen. He wished he knew what the man looked like. Looking in the mirror earlier that day as he readied himself for work, he wondered if he possessed any of the characteristics on his dad’s side. Maybe the nose? The color of eyes? That persistent small tuft of hair that drooped down over his forehead?
He was glad to share all this with Debbie over the phone that evening. He told her what he’d learned, about Samuel’s full name and his place in history on D-day. As usual, she was her own confident self, claiming that God was about ready to blow wide open the doors on his past. He hoped so.
As he arrived at White Pines that evening, he prayed that Gram would be in the mood to talk about things. It all depended on her frame of mind.
In the parking lot, he saw a tall nurse with blond hair unlocking the door to her car. She looked up then. A smile easily formed with teeth that gleamed like pearls. “Hi, Neil.”
I’m not in the mood for this. And I have a nurse I like very much, thank you. Try the next guy.
“I’m Trish, remember?
You hired me to take care of your grandma over Christmas.”
The comment stopped him in his tracks. With everything else going on, he had forgotten his idea to bring Gram home, and the plan for this Trish to care for her.
“Hey, listen. I have a few minutes. Wanna grab some coffee, and we can talk about her care?”
His fingers began to curl inside the pockets of his coat. “Actually I haven’t yet arranged for it all. I’ll have to let you know when things are settled.” He wanted to ask if there was any way she might switch with Debbie and allow her to come, but before he could form his thoughts into words, Trish stepped forward.
“Hey, I was talking to Natasha, and she was telling me about this great movie that just came out. Some kind of funny Christmas comedy. A bunch of us nurses on the floor were thinking of going. Wanna come along with us?”
The invitation momentarily stunned him. “Is this some kind of floor event?”
“Yeah, we nurses like to get together sometimes and go to the movies. Kind of a tradition every year to see the season’s latest Christmas flick. But since there aren’t many guys working here, except in the cafeteria or in maintenance, we’d love to have you come along to give us some atmosphere. I mean, you’re a regular on the floor. You practically live there, kind of.” She giggled.
He chuckled in response. If this was a floor event, no doubt Debbie was also going. That idea appealed to him, considering how his life had been topsy-turvy recently. A few laughs with Debbie and her nursing buddies might be just the thing he needed. “Okay.”
Trish’s face lit up as if she had been plugged like a strand of Christmas lights into a socket. “Great!” Trish exclaimed. “We’re going tomorrow night at seven. The Regal Theater in Roanoke. You can visit your grandma and then join us. It’s going to be great.”
He shuffled off, glad for some kind of outing with Debbie besides the coffee shop, even if it were with the other nurses on the floor. They had done little else but immerse themselves in this grandfather mystery. Maybe in the theater, he could sneak her away from the crowd to a seat on the opposite side. There they could indulge in a bucket of popcorn and conversation. For once, he had something to look forward to besides thinking about his family situation. And that made things easier to handle, at least for now.
Nine
“Hey, Debbie, Neil here. Hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. Should be a lot of fun. I’m planning to pick you up around six. See you then.”
Huh? What is he talking about? Debbie heard the cryptic message loud and clear on the answering machine but couldn’t quite believe it. She racked her brain, trying to remember if she had agreed to do something with Neil tonight. Had they made plans during the coffee outing a few days ago, and she’d forgotten about it? Looking at the calendar, there was nothing written in. But they must’ve set up something for him to say what he did on the answering machine. As it was, ever since the encounter at the coffee shop, she found herself in a daze. Despite the conversation about Neil’s grandfather, it wasn’t like other past encounters. Something had changed in Neil. . .an interest that had not been there before, as if their casual friendship had taken a personal turn. Of course Debbie would like nothing better, but it still made her feel jittery, like a girl on her first date. Was she ready for this new turn onto some unknown path with a man she had only recently begun to understand?
She decided to go along with whatever the preplanned engagement was, in the hopes that something might clue her in. Maybe this was Neil’s way of leading her by the hand down that new path in their relationship. Staring at her wardrobe, she wondered what to wear for a mystery date, finally settling on a jean skirt and a Christmas sweater. That should work for almost anything.
When the doorbell rang, Debbie opened her door to find a cheerful and expectant Neil. This must be a great time we set up, she thought with a sigh. If only I knew what.
“Do you have any idea what movie you were going to see?” he asked as they stepped out into the blustery evening air. “I know where the theater is in Roanoke, but I haven’t been by there in a while to see what’s playing.”
“Uh. . .” Did I agree to see a movie? “I’m not sure, Neil.”
“So Trish didn’t tell you, huh? I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Trish? What does she have to do with this? “No, she didn’t. We don’t talk much.”
“Hmm. I know it’s some kind of comedy. I think it has something to do with Christmas.”
Debbie was growing more uncomfortable by the minute and more depressed at the thought of Neil and Trish conversing. Obviously Trish had invited him to see a movie. Then why was he dragging her along? To be a chaperone? To dump her somewhere when the timing was right and run off to be with Trish? Really, Debbie, get a life. This guy is no Brad. He’s a gentleman. Besides, they had been getting along famously. He had shown an obvious interest at the coffee shop. Then why was Trish suddenly mixed up in all of this?
“You’re awfully quiet,” he observed.
How do I tell him nicely that I have no idea what is going on? “Neil, I have no idea what is going on.” The statement popped out of her mouth like an exploding cork.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, tonight. You leave me a message on the answering machine, but I don’t recall us setting up any kind of special outing to a theater.”
“You know—the annual movie gig you gals go to every Christmas. Trish told me all about it, how you nurses get together to see the latest Christmas movie playing. She decided since I was a regular on the floor, I could tag along.”
I don’t believe it. That woman is too much. “Neil, I’m sorry to say this, but I know nothing about our floor’s staff attending a movie tonight. That’s not to say they aren’t going. Trish gets the other nurses together to do things, even has them over to her place. They go out to the mall in Roanoke and other places—a regular groupie thing. But I’ve never been invited to those events. I don’t fit into their mold, I guess, which is probably for the best.”
He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “I assumed you were a part of this, being a floor thing. That’s the main reason I said yes, thinking you’d be there.”
At least that part proved gratifying and even endearing. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. Trish and I don’t get along at all. She really dislikes me, and I must say, the feeling is mutual, despite the fact I’ve tried not to make enemies.”
He turned off at the nearest exit and came to a stop in the parking lot of a gas station. “I had no idea. Wow, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed all this. It was pretty dumb.”
“It’s okay. You can just take me home and go on to see the movie, wherever it is.”
“So you still don’t want to go? We can get our own seats. It’ll be fun. We deserve it.”
“I’m sorry, but sitting in the same theater with Trish would be the worst kind of agony. I know that sounds mean. I wish I could say that things were okay between us, but they aren’t.” Then it all came tumbling out—how Trish was considered the belle of White Pines, even though her work ethics left much to be desired. The way she treated the residents. How everyone loved Trish but left others like Debbie hanging out to dry. How Debbie wished she had the right words to say. Why people didn’t notice her efforts but applauded Trish instead. “I just wish I could tell the head nurse, Mrs. Whitaker, about it all.”
Neil sat there, still and silent, as if Debbie had delivered a major blow to his life. “I wish I had known about this earlier,” he said glumly. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to burst a bubble or something.”
“I hired this Trish gal to take care of Gram for the holidays.”
“You what?” Debbie nearly jumped in her seat. “Neil, you can’t have her do that.”
“No, I can’t, not afte
r what you’ve been telling me about the way she treats the residents. No wonder Gram always seems depressed whenever Trish takes care of her. I thought it was because of the holiday season or the memories of this other grandfather. How could I have been so stupid?”
Debbie saw the anger fill him. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“I don’t like being taken for a ride.”
“Neil, you didn’t know. You were trying to give your grandmother a nice Christmas. There’s still time to find someone else.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. She sucked in her breath, watching the rigid lines forming on his face. “Hey, it’s no big deal.”
“I don’t like someone pulling the wool over my eyes, and that’s all I’ve been enduring these last few weeks. A wool coat thrown over my head. Maybe a whole coatrack. Between this whole grandfather scenario and some whacked-out dame pulling a few fast ones, I don’t know what’s going on. But I plan to set the record straight, once and for all.”
Tires spit gravel as the car took off, making a fast U-turn and heading back toward Fincastle. Debbie had no idea what to say so she kept quiet until Neil drove into the lot of her apartment building. Debbie offered to brew him a cup of the peach tea he liked, hoping it might calm him down enough to think rationally. But the lines of irritation were clearly written on his face like lines drawn in the sand.
Moments later, she handed him the freshly brewed tea in the bear nursing mug. “Neil, all I ask is that you don’t do something you and I will both regret. Especially me. I still work at that place, you know. You stir up the hornet’s nest, and guess who will get stung.”
“I understand, Debbie, but some things in life need to be said. And it’s high time someone told it like it is and didn’t beat around the bush. The fact is, this woman needs to respect and treat human beings with dignity and not like playthings for her amusement. And you said so yourself that you wanted people to know about it.”
Debbie flushed. She could just imagine the reaction if he strode in there with his emotional guns fully loaded. But he doesn’t understand Trish, nor does he have any inkling where this all might lead. And it won’t be Trish’s head that rolls. There were all sorts of scriptures that told how to treat one’s enemy—such as turning the other cheek when someone strikes you, or heaping coals of fire on another’s head by not reciprocating evil for evil but rather answering evil with good. She mentioned them. “So just tell her that the plans have changed, that you don’t want her working for you. Please don’t go to Mrs. Whitaker about it. Let it go at that.”
Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 56