Never Knew Love Like This Before

by Denise Campbell

  Afterwards, they ate lobster at Luigi’s Seafood restaurant on the Wharf. Deni liked watching Coleman eat; he had a hearty man’s appetite. She could tell the way he sensuously chewed his meat, he was an epicurean man; a man of sensuous pleasures.

  When they made it home, Coleman looked as if he wanted to kiss her but didn’t. Actually Deni didn’t consider their New Year’s Eve outing a date, since they both lived in the same house. But she didn’t know what to call what she was feeling.

  “Good night, Miss Deni,” Coleman said, going up the stairs to his room.

  “Good night, Mr. Coleman,” Deni said. “I really enjoyed tonight. You really can blow.”

  Coleman looked over his shoulder, cracked a half-smile, then clambered up the stairs.

  Chapter 16

  The Abyss

  January started out with Coleman and Miss Johntrice enrolling the children into the local elementary school. Britton was enrolled in the third grade and Blossom in kindergarten. Blossom only attended school a half a day, but Miss Johntrice enrolled her in afternoon day care so that she could go find a job. Within a week, Miss Johntrice landed a job as a cook at a Kizzy’s Soul Food Restaurant in Marina Del Ray.

  Over the next four weekends, Deni, in an effort to show Coleman her world, had taken him to the J. Paul Getty Museum to see Van Gogh’s famous painting Irises, and to an opera—Porgy and Bess, since she’d already seen Tristan and Isolde, Phantom of the Opera, and many other favorites. She figured Gershwin’s opera was more Black and Coleman would relate to it more. One thing she realized was that Coleman, being a musician, could hold a decent conversation when it came to the arts.

  Just at the beginning of February, when the news of Hurricane Katrina and its devastating effects was dying down, Deni was getting out of juvenile court at 5:30. It was Friday evening and she was thinking, “Thank God it’s Friday,” when her cell phone rang.

  It was Coleman. “Deni, did you pick up Blossom?” His generally molasses-coated voice spurted out in terse jerks.

  “Why? Is anything the matter?”

  “I went to the after-school day-care program and she wasn’t there. The staff doesn’t have any evidence of anyone signing her out. Her blankie is still here, but her jacket is gone.”

  Deni could hear the bottomless dread and fear in Coleman’s voice.

  “Maybe Blossom was hiding from you. You know how she likes to play.”

  “No, we’ve looked all over the school. People are beginning to scour the neighborhood.”

  “Did you check with Miss Johntrice?”

  “Yes, I checked with her. She didn’t pick her up. She’s on her way to the police station now. She has Britton, though.”

  “Which station are you at? We need to put in a police report.”

  Deni’s heart pounded as loudly as the surf as she drove west on the Santa Monica Freeway, heading to the police precinct. It was already dark. She got afraid just thinking of Blossom out wandering in the cold. It even began to drizzle, and Deni found herself crying at the thought of Blossom cold and wet.

  At the police station, Deni wiped her eyes and tried to remain composed as they gave all that they could remember. She hated she hadn’t had the children fingerprinted when they first moved in with her.

  “What was she last wearing?” the officer at the front desk asked.

  Miss Johntrice had dressed Blossom for school. “Blossom had on overalls with pockets that matched her ribbons and her plaid shirt.”

  They had to go through a profile, but each minute that passed made it look bleaker and bleaker. Someone at the school thought they had seen a white woman with dark hair and sunglasses talking to Blossom on the playground, but they couldn’t be sure when they last saw her.

  Deni thought about the statistics and she shuddered.

  “Most children who are missing over forty-eight hours are found dead.”

  Somehow the Channel 5 news roving reporter showed up at the Santa Monica police department. Alisa Mendez, a Latina reporter, was on the case.

  “Could you tell us what happened to your little girl, Blossom Blue?”

  Deni felt like she was in the midst of a nightmare as she looked on and saw Coleman blink into the camera, fighting back tears.

  Coleman had a copy of the picture they took at the Santa Monica Pier blown up. Blossom had never looked so happy. Her front snaggle teeth were broken into a happy jack-o’-lantern grin.

  “I went to the school to pick her up and she was gone. Just like that.

  “You see the little kids on the milk carton. Well, Blossom has a face. I hear that to lose a child to death is the worst thing, but not knowing where your child is, is a worse kind of death. Please, if you have any information, you can contact the station here. Blossom, wherever you are, we love you. Please, whoever took her, bring her back safely.”

  That night when they got home, Miss Johntrice’s face was screwed into knots of worry. She kept fingering her rosary. Her lips silently mouthed the Hail Mary’s “Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”

  Britton broke down crying. “I should have picked her up from school. Do you think they’ll find my baby sister?”

  Coleman was so distraught he couldn’t speak or eat. He stayed in Deni’s living room, pacing up and down the floor.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.” Deni tried to be comforting to the family by hugging them, yet at the same time, she tried to hide her own anguish. She couldn’t believe how attached she had become to Blossom, to the whole family.

  The house had never felt so empty in Blossom’s absence. She’d never noticed how silence could engulf you, swallow you whole, make you want to die. Everywhere they looked was something of Blossom’s, such as the doll that Jean had given her, to decry her missing status. Every place Blossom was not was a source of recrimination. As if they had failed her—had not kept her safe.

  Suddenly she had an idea. She grabbed up her purse, found the letter from Robert Franklin, which she had been carrying around for months, and dialed his number for the first time.

  Chapter 17

  Redemption

  Santa Barbara, California

  That Saturday morning, driving along the Pacific Coast Highway 1, Deni thought of the man who claimed to be her father, Robert Franklin. The sun rising in the east warmed her right side, and the fresh smells of the ocean to her left lulled her into drowsiness. She turned up the FM classic music radio station to keep herself awake.

  She understood Coleman’s need to be near the phone and stay at the police station. She told him where and why she was going to Santa Barbara to try to help get Blossom back. “I’ll be back. You need to be here if there’s any news on Blossom.”

  Robert Franklin. Up until now, she had felt no reason to return his calls, even after her conversation with Miss Johntrice who told her “Every girl needs her father,” Deni stubbornly refused to call.

  However, with Blossom missing and no leads as to where she could be, Deni felt responsible to help get her back home. After all, she was the one who opened her home to the Blue family. This would have never happened if . . . if what? She knew it was senseless to pound herself over the head with shoulda, coulda, woulda. She knew each family member was blaming him- or herself.

  Deni worried about Blossom not having her beloved “blankie” with her. She would never go anywhere without it. She slept with that thing. Miss Johntrice said it not only was her security blanket, it still had smells in it, which reminded her of her mother. Blossom took her blankie to school with her every day and she rubbed it against her face in order to fall asleep, even at naptime.

  Deni’s heart ached, just thinking of the little girl, out there alone and lost. She knew this was a long shot, but FBI agents were known to be able to track down anybody.

  Deni looked at the highway sign, which read SANTA BARBARA NEXT EXIT. She knew in a matter of minutes she would be meeting her putative, biological father for the first time in her thirty-five-year life. He
r heart somersaulted and palpitated back and forth from between resentment, excitement, and fear.

  Robert Franklin had sounded pleasant enough on the telephone. But why would he show up in my life now? Suddenly a voice inside her answered. Maybe this is a sign that Blossom will be all right.

  Deni arrived at Crossroads Restaurant and took a seat, facing the door. Fresh orchids graced each table with a white cotton tablecloth. This early in the morning the restaurant wasn’t crowded.

  Suddenly a tall, dark-skinned man with gray hair and very clean-cut features shadowed the doorway. Right away, Deni knew that this was her father. She knew it in her blood. It was as if blood was calling to blood. That visceral recognition.

  When he scanned the restaurant, at first, Franklin didn’t seem to see her. But when he did, his eyes blazed with the fire of recognition.

  He came over and gave her a strong hug. “You look just like your mother did in her teens.”

  Deni had only meant to shake his hand, but his hug felt so natural and warm, all her resistance melted.

  Right away, Robert Franklin handed her a letter in a familiar, lacy handwriting. “Just in case you don’t believe I knew your mother.”

  Inside, the letter was yellowed and faded. It was dated January 17, 1971.

  Deni scanned the letter greedily, so happy to see her late mother’s handwriting.

  Clearly, it was a love letter:

  Dearest Robert,

  I miss you so much. I really enjoyed your leave of absence at Christmas, and even though we spent every day together, I wished the time would have never come to an end. Now I wish I had married you when you proposed, but I felt so afraid, I couldn’t make up my mind. I know they say the Vietnam War is almost over, but be careful.

  You will always be my first and only love. I feel we have a love that knows no bounds. Neither life nor death will ever separate us,

  Love Always,

  Esther

  Inside, there was a picture of a young Franklin and Esther. They were a good-looking couple and anyone could see they were deeply in love. Her mother’s eyes shone with desire and hope.

  Deni had never seen her mother look as happy in her entire childhood.

  “I take it your mother got pregnant that Christmas while I was on leave.”

  “Yes, I was born September twenty-fifth, 1971.” Deni thought about it. “Well, why did you marry someone else?”

  “I wrote Esther until I got captured by the Vietnamese, which happened shortly after I got over there. I was a prisoner of war for a couple of years before I escaped. Suong, the young woman who helped me to escape, later became my wife. I loved my wife, but I never got over your mother. And now to find Esther had a child, and looking at you, you look just like my mother—you are definitely my child. I wonder why Esther never told me she was pregnant.”

  “Who knows? Mother was very proud like that. I can only guess she was ashamed to be pregnant and unmarried at seventeen, so she didn’t want you to marry her because of me.”

  The two continued to converse, and Franklin offered to buy Deni a meal.

  “No, I’m not hungry. I haven’t been able to eat since Blossom came up missing last night. If there’s anything you can do to help, I would be forever grateful to you. Let’s get started on that. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  They drove to his house, which was an old Victorian colonial facing the ocean. When he opened the stained glass door, Deni took in the glistening hardwood floors, the high ceilings, and the moldings, and realized Franklin had good taste just like she did; however, she was too upset to savor his paintings or any of his other antique furniture.

  They walked straight to his office, which was encased in glass and faced the ocean.

  “Did they put in an amber alert on Blossom?” Franklin asked.

  “What’s that?” Deni shook her head, clueless. Franklin Googled amber alert system.

  A parent’s worst nightmare is a child abduction. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, 74 percent of children who were abducted and later found murdered were killed within three hours of being taken. Quick response is vital.

  What is an AMBER ALERT?

  AMBER ALERT empowers law enforcement, the media and the public to combat abduction by sending out immediate, up-to-date information that aids in the child’s safe recovery.

  The AMBER ALERT Program has helped in successfully recovering over one hundred children since it was established statewide in California on July 31, 2002.

  Next, Franklin picked up the phone and placed calls to several of his old FBI contacts. Before the next hour passed, the amber alert was issued.

  “Now, this will be over all the freeways, on cable TV, and regular TV.”

  When Deni left her father’s home, Franklin gave her another hug. “I can’t express how much I regret not knowing you. You are quite some woman. Your mother raised you well. We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

  Deni felt tears scorch her eyes. “I’ve been searching all my life, and didn’t know why. I’m glad to know I have a father.”

  Chapter 18

  The Wilderness

  That evening when Deni drove in from Santa Barbara, she saw a crowd of people circling around her house, holding a candlelight vigil. People of all races had placed candles in glasses and bunches of flowers for Blossom, the missing child. They were singing a threnody she couldn’t quite recognize, but it sounded soothing. As she pushed through the swarms of supporters and well-wishers, strangers shook her hand and hugged her. She even saw several of her neighbors whom she’d never had a chance to get to know.

  As soon as she got inside, Deni noticed no one was at home. She put on the news.

  “The civil authorities have issued a child abduction emergency for LA County, beginning at eleven-oh-one A.M. to eleven-oh-one P.M. tomorrow. The child was last seen at her day care in Santa Monica.”

  Next, she called Jean, to let her know what had happened. Abe answered the phone. “Jean had to go out of town yesterday on an emergency. I think her mother is sick again. I heard about Blossom on the news. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  Jean’s mother obviously had had another emphysema crisis and she had gone to see her in San Francisco.

  Next, Deni called Coleman on his new cell phone.

  “Any news yet?”

  “No, we’re at the police station. I heard about the Amber alert, which Mr. Franklin was able to get into effect. Now there are all-points bulletins everywhere. I can’t thank you enough, Deni.”

  That night after everyone had gone to sleep, Deni lay in her bed, still trying to go to sleep but unable to. She was excited about the amber alert, but still afraid. Was it too late? Would it help find Blossom?

  Suddenly she heard a soft tapping on the door.

  “Who is it?” Deni said, but she had a feeling who it was.

  A hushed voice answered, “Coleman. Can I come in?”

  Deni pulled her sheets up around her. Coleman eased into the room, looking like a broken man. His shoulders slumped in, his eyes were red from not sleeping.

  Deni looked on as he paced in a circle around the room.

  “I just needed to talk. I just feel so overwhelmed and so helpless. I keep thinking maybe she won’t get to come back home. I have to blank it out. It gets too scary to think about—what could be happening to her. Then I just have to pray.”

  Deni patted the bed. “Come sit over here and just rest your feet for a moment.”

  Coleman heaved a deep sigh, but then complied. Plopping down on the bed, he dropped his head in both of his hands.

  “This is all my fault. Oh, God, I’d do anything to have Blossom back.” Before Deni knew it, Coleman was in her arms, sobbing like a baby.

  “This is all my fault. I wanted to come to LA, to get away from the past. It wasn’t just Katrina. I needed a new life.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. It was just too much of my ex-wif
e there . . . then so much mess.”

  “Did you love her?”

  Coleman shut down and wouldn’t talk anymore.

  As he heaved deep sobs wracking from within his chest, Deni rubbed his back like a child’s. All of a sudden he wrapped his arms around her waist and held on to her like a life support, as if he let go of her, he wouldn’t know what would happen to him.

  Finally, he dozed off, arms still wrapped tightly around Deni’s waist.

  Coleman woke up to the morning light slanting into the room. At first, he didn’t remember where he was. Then he remembered coming to Deni’s room last night, but he didn’t remember falling asleep, he’d been so zonked. It was as if he’d stepped inside the sacred warmth of the womb when he stepped into her white-on-white boudoir. He’d never been inside of her bedroom when she was at home. Her four-postered bed with its sheer canopy cover filled one end of her large room. Ivory silk valances hung from her ceiling to floor windows and a matching silk comforter covered her king-sized bed. Her room smelt of a combination of talcum and fresh flowers.

  Without realizing it, Coleman felt better than he’d felt in two days. Waking up with his arms around Deni’s waist, he also smelled her soft woman scent.

  The memory of Blossom’s kidnapping no longer had him as stressed. Perhaps he had needed sleep. Now he was more hopeful. He remembered some of Deni’s soothing words from last night. She had reminded him that there hadn’t been a ransom note, so Blossom could have wandered away from the school and just got lost. With her winning personality, someone had probably taken her in.

  He had to hold on to Deni’s words of solace. “Everything is going to work out.”

  “Let’s go to the early mass,” Coleman suggested, a renewed strength and hope in his heart. He knew if God would just give him another chance with Blossom, he’d never worry about her paternity again. It didn’t matter if she was his biological child or not. He’d raised her since she was a baby and since he’d fed her and bonded to her, Blossom was his daughter. Period. He also knew he had to forgive Mellon in order for him to move on.