“Did Charlie tell anybody else of these wishes?” Brenda asked.
“Only me,” said Cynthia. “It was our secret. He did say that he never understood it, but that he had a change of heart on this issue.”
Brenda shifted again, trying to read Cynthia’s face. “What about Charlie’s parents? Were they on board with all of this?”
“Oh, yes,” Cynthia replied. “They were 100% with all of this… plus it would be easier on everybody… cheaper too.”
“So what exactly happened?” Brenda asked.
“Oh my… where do I start? It was awful. From what the police officers told me, Charlie was shot in the head at close range… twice… by some coward. Wrong place… wrong time. That’s always the case, isn’t it?”
“Not always,” said Brenda.
“Anyway, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time… two shots to the head. It would’ve been a closed casket anyway. You guys hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”
“No, thanks,” Carter replied. “We just stopped for a bite. We’re fine.”
“Okay, then we’ll just sit and relax. I’ll be fine. All my tears have dropped. I’m not sure what I’m going to do.” She glanced up at the urn. “Those were my plans.”
“Just know that you don’t need to worry about rent,” said Carter, “and you can stay here as long as you want. Whenever you figure it out, just please let Brenda and I know.”
“Actually, I’m going to be moving in with a friend.”
“Oh,” said Brenda in a voice of surprise. “I thought you didn’t know anybody around here, but that’s wonderful!”
“Yeah, I guess, but I’m going to miss this place. I’m planning on moving out in a couple of weeks… as soon as I can get everything cleared out.”
“Oh, wow,” said Carter. “I guess instead of preparing for services, we’ll be talking to a realtor. We should probably take a look around and see what’s in store for us. Would you mind if we took a look around?”
“It’s your house. You can do whatever you please. I apologize, but it was short notice. Please, don’t mind me or my stuff. Do whatever you need to do and go wherever you need to go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Carter and Brenda were off to the races. They weren’t sure what to make of what had just transpired since their arrival to his old house, but it was disturbing. Of course they expected Cynthia to be a wreck, but she was more than that, and they couldn’t figure out why. Maybe her arrangements had changed since the phone call, and that was entirely reasonable based on the circumstances.
Carter knew how difficult it was for him to stay in that house after the deaths of his parents, and he had to leave immediately. Cynthia had plans to leave the house as well, but at the moment she was worn down from the previous days and desperately needed a nap. Carter and Brenda used this time to check around the house to see what work needed to be done.
They started in the living room. All of the furniture was his parent’s, so it all could stay if they wanted to list the house as a rental with a realtor. The two bookshelves were filled with books and covered with dust, and they too would stay.
Brenda lagged behind as she would not be able to recognize anything since this was the first time she had stepped foot in this house. She began rifling through old newspapers. “Carter, there’s about a week’s worth of unread newspapers piled up on the coffee table. I’m going to check to see if I can find anything on Charlie’s murder.”
Carter heard her, but didn’t turn around. “Funeral’s all set,” he muttered, just loud enough for Brenda to hear.
Brenda began ripping open the newspapers, beginning with the days following Charlie’s murder. She found nothing, but something was ripped out of the paper. “That’s weird,” she said.
“Maybe she ripped the articles out and got rid of them… got rid of the reminders,” said Carter.
“Yeah, that could be,” Brenda agreed.
“Let’s go to my old bedroom,” Carter said. He led the way into the place where he used to spend a whole lot of time. He used to listen to the Sox games on the radio, and often kept score in a notebook. He loved reading books in his room, too. Of course, it’s where most of his homework was completed as he needed complete silence in order to concentrate fully. He always thought multi-tasking was for the birds, believing he could accomplish two things individually in shorter time than doing both tasks simultaneously. He hated when others bragged about their multi-tasking abilities, knowing full well that they were only fooling themselves.
Stepping into his old bedroom was less dramatic than he thought it would be. It was so much smaller. He couldn’t imagine having a room so small in this day and age. It was fine back then, but he was also smaller. I guess it’s all relative, he thought. He went into the room and could tell that it was exactly as he left it. He didn’t even think his houseguests had even stepped foot inside for curiosity sake. Carter began opening and closing drawers that were packed with his old clothing. He looked over at Brenda, who had lifted up the mattress and found an old Playboy.
“That must be from the family who lived here before us,” said Carter, embarrassed and with a smirk soiling his face. “We’re all set in here, let’s check out the den.”
In the den was a small closet that held the vacuum cleaner and other cleaning supplies. Carter poked his head inside, and buried on a high shelf up on the left was a small safe about the size of a shoe box. “Hold my back,” he said to Brenda as he reached up and slowly guided the safe to the ground safely. It was a combination safe that was apparently not locked, since Carter was able to swing the door open with ease. He reached in this small dark gray safe and extracted what appeared to be a bunch of important documents. He wasn’t sure if this was Charlie and Cynthia’s safe, or his parents. However, he struck gold and got his answer upon looking at the document at the top of the heap. “Holy shit! These are papers from my adoption… in 1974! Damn, I wish I had found them before.”
Carter took the papers with the adoption documents on top, and Brenda followed him to the bed. These papers verified his adoption, and listed at the top of the document was the agency that processed the adoption. “This is definitely confirmation. The adoption was legal. It even says here that I had been deserted in a desert. Man, they had a way with words.”
Carter looked over at Brenda, who had been reading over his shoulder. “My adoptive parents were saints,” he continued. “If I only knew then what I know now. I think I was the only one around here who was in the dark. Everybody must have known. Why would they want to keep that a secret from me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe they just wanted to protect you. Some kids would want the protection, especially with your history. Maybe kids have trouble knowing that their biological parents gave them up?” Brenda crinkled her forehead and pursed her lips, showing Carter a hard smile to indicate doubt.
Carter placed the papers in Brenda’s lap. “Can you put these in your pocketbook?”
“Sure thing… you should definitely hang onto them.”
Carter grabbed the rest of the documents in the safe. There were a bunch of important papers that didn’t mean a whole lot to him, so he returned them to the safe. There was, however, a Life insurance policy listing Carter as the beneficiary. It had been taken out in 1985. It may have lapsed, but what did not lapse was Carter’s brain, as he added that little document to the pile on Brenda’s lap. That was another document he had to check on.
The afternoon was getting on in hours, and Carter continued to look around the room for anything worthy. He looked out the window at old Mr. Jenkins’ house and was surprised to see that his old neighbor was not only still alive and well, but walking around in the yard. He had to be
in his mid-eighties by now.
“Holy shit!” Carter exclaimed. “I have to go say hi to Mr. Jenkins. I can’t believe he’s still kickin’. He wasn’t in very good shape four years ago. Come on with me. I want you to meet him.”
As they made their way outside to visit with Mr. Jenkins, an old green Plymouth horizon full of teenagers drove by and one of the boys yelled out through the opened window, “Hey senile old man. Where you gonna walk today?”
Mr. Jenkins looked up briefly to follow the sound of the voice and quickly back down to see where he was stepping. He was still checking on his flowers. He always had a thing for plants and flowers, and was always outside watering and pruning them. He was just looking today, but this gave Carter a good chance to visit with him. The old man did not even notice his company. He certainly looked like he did four years ago, but may have slowed down a notch. He was also a little more hunched over than Carter had remembered, and perhaps a little bit smaller as a result, but he was still old man Jenkins.
“Mr. Jenkins,” Carter called out. “Great to see you again. It’s me… Carter.”
Mr. Jenkins may have heard the screaming teen, but Carter’s regular voice apparently did not reverberate quite enough to catch Mr. Jenkins’ eardrum.
Brenda looked over at Carter. “You might want to try that again, but louder.”
“Mr. Jenkins! Great to see you! It’s Carter!”
Slowly, Mr. Jenkins turned his frail body. He just stared at Carter, who was smiling at him as he turned. He did look older from close up. Carter was now standing right in front of Mr. Jenkins, and there was no real indication that he even knew that it was Carter standing before him. There appeared to be much more aging than his first impression. His face seemed to have twice the wrinkles. He still did not say anything to Carter. It was like the shell of Mr. Jenkins, but his personality had gone into hiding. It was a very odd thing for Carter to see. He had never experienced anything like this. Mr. Jenkins appeared to be hollow.
“Try again,” said Brenda. “Maybe it will take a couple tries.”
“Hello Mr. Jenkins! It’s Carter… your next door neighbor! Remember me? My parents were Sydney and Patricia Spence!”
Mr. Jenkins looked over at Carter’s house slowly, then back at Carter. Then he looked at Brenda. “Who’s this dame?”
“This is Brenda!”
Brenda was all smiles. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jenkins. Carter has always said such nice things about you.”
Mr. Jenkins stared at Brenda. “She seems like a fine lady. I’m sure your parents would have approved.”
“You remember my parents! Glad to see you’re doing okay. It’s so nice to see you.”
“Come,” said Mr. Jenkins as he slowly walked towards the house. “Iced Tea.”
It took about 20 minutes before they were all sitting down to a glass of iced tea. Mr. Jenkins had surely slowed down over the years, but he wasn’t completely gone. His mind would come and go. One minute they were having a conversation, and the next minute he was staring off into space with no forewarning. He would just shut down and not respond, even mid-sentence sometimes.
After a few minutes of small talk, Carter concluded that his window was smaller than the talk. He needed some information from Mr. Jenkins, and although it was only one conversation over a glass of iced tea, he knew that this very likely could be his last conversation with Mr. Jenkins. If there ever was information he needed from old Mr. Jenkins, this was the time.
“Mr. Jenkins!” Carter needed to scream every word or else not say anything at all. “I was adopted back in 1974! Do you remember anything about my adoption? Were you aware I was adopted?”
“Sure.”
“Sure… you were aware?”
“Sure.”
“So you knew that I was adopted?”
“Sure.”
Carter looked over at Brenda who was sitting next to him at the round kitchen table, then back at his old neighbor. “Mr. Jenkins… were you around when I was adopted… the day I was adopted?”
“Sure.”
Carter again looked at Brenda, who made a face indicating uncertainty. Carter whispered to her, “I need to rephrase my questions. I’m not sure if he’s just saying sure for the hell of it. Maybe he doesn’t even know what I’m asking. “Mr. Jenkins… What do you remember about my adoption back in 1974.”
Mr. Jenkins did not reply. He just looked at Carter, then at Brenda. “Fine girl you got there. Your parents would definitely agree.”
Brenda smiled, but a frustrated Carter exhaled loudly. He shook his head and looked back at Mr. Jenkins. His window was getting smaller with each passing minute.
“They would definitely agree,” repeated Mr. Jenkins, who continued to ogle Brenda. “She looks like that fine young lady who finalized your adoption that day.”
Carter’s eyes grew in size and he quickly sat up in his chair. “So you remember? Brenda looks like that woman who finalized my adoption?”
“Sure.”
“Sure about that?” Carter asked. “Sure about what?”
“Sure… very sure… actually. I was there that day, and I was there the day you made this your home.”
Carter and Brenda both sat up and took notice. Now the window was open, and they needed to get the story now before they lost the chance of possibly ever getting the story.
“Mr. Jenkins, I’m so glad that you were there.” Carter felt the need to keep talking and not lose this current engagement, even as meaningless as his last comment sounded. He continued the spark. “She looked like Brenda, huh? She must have been very pretty.”
“She was okay.”
Brenda sneered at Mr. Jenkins.
“Very lovely, in fact.”
Brenda released her sneer.
“Mr. Jenkins… do you remember anything else about that day? Do you remember anything about why I was given up for adoption or why my parents decided to adopt me? How come they never told me?”
“One question at a time, son. Let’s do that again. My mind can’t capture it all.”
“What do you remember about my adoption back in the 70’s?”
Mr. Jenkins leaned forward and began his reply. “Carter… I do remember that your parents were democrats. They couldn’t agree on a name for you so they stole it from the President.”
Brenda knocked Carter’s foot under the table with her own foot, then continued to listen. This was exactly what the doctor had ordered.
“They had just miscarried… a year or so prior… to that. Your mom then found out… that she would not be able to… carry a baby to full… term… because of some condition she had… forget what it was after all of these… years.” Mr. Jenkins then paused to collect his thoughts, and Carter and Brenda allowed him to do just that. They did not wish to knock the train off the track.
“She suffered greatly from the loss of… the baby, and then the news… that she would never be able to have… one of her own. Great depression… hit your mom… for a good year. She was a mess. She couldn’t function… hold down a job or anything. Then somewhere… along the line… they decided that if they can’t… have a kid of their own, then they should… adopt. That would be the next best thing. You might not know this, Carter, but you were… the reason she was able to… live. You’re it. You gave her… a reason to live… especially since they got you… as pretty much a newborn… baby. It was like they had… their own. The only controversy they ever had… over you was what… to name you. That’s why… I remember it so… well. You were their precious… desert son.”
Carter looked at Mr. Jenkins and could see the difference in his face. He even had slight tremo
rs, which forced him to pause when he was speaking. It was almost as if Mother Nature was corroborating his story by forcing him to take his time during the storytelling process to ensure accuracy. He seemed to be with it as he was telling his story. However, he would come and go, and when it was time for him to check out, he fell hard.
“So you remember my adoption,” Carter said to him after listening to Mr. Jenkins speak at length.
“Who?”
“My story… you remembered my story.”
“Who… are you?”
“I’m Carter, your next door neighbor.”
“Out! What are you doing in my house? I’ll call the authorities. This is my house!”
Carter and Brenda placed their iced tea glasses onto the kitchen table and stood up. “We have to run now, Mr. Jenkins, but it was very nice seeing you again.”
“And thank you for the drinks,” said Brenda.
“She’s a nice girl,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Your parents will approve. Charlie’s replacement will approve too.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was time for them to move along. Carter wasn’t sure where Mr. Jenkins was at this point, but he was drifting in and out and having fits of anger in between. He was satisfied with the visit, overall, and discovered quite a bit about his parents. Mr. Jenkins’ condition disturbed him, as did those teenagers who drove past calling him a crazy loon.
Carter realized that this may be the last time he would see Mr. Jenkins. He knew when he was watching him speak that his days were numbered. He could see only the shell of the man he used to know. He had always been “the old man next door” in Carter’s eyes, but his decline over the years was more of a deep descent. It was drastic. He was not himself.
Once they returned to the house, they continued to assess the damage. Carter had a feeling that Cynthia was not long for the house. It was only days following the murder and she wanted out. He understood that part, but he wasn’t even close to understanding the part about the urn on the mantle.
Desert Son Trilogy: Desert Son, Wayward Soul, Spiritual Intervention (Books 1-3) Page 29