by Dan Walsh
“It’s okay, Mom. We can talk about the details later. I’m not upset. I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” Tears filled his eyes again. “I figured out what happened. What you and Art have done, are still trying to do with JD, with . . . my dad.” He shook his head. “I’ve been a fool, a terrible son. To you . . . and especially to Art. For so long.” He looked past her a moment, toward Art’s bed.
Had he just said he’d been a terrible son . . . to Art? Leanne’s heart began to fill with emotion. Hope and joy, a peaceful confusion. Lord, what have you done to Rick?
“And I’ve treated him so badly,” he said, sighing heavily.
“Who?” she asked. It didn’t seem he was referring to Art anymore.
“JD—my dad. I still have a hard time saying it. At the store. I didn’t know who he was, and I . . . Andrea must hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Rick.”
“Has she told you how I’ve treated him? I’ve been calling him Columbo.”
Leanne laughed out loud; she couldn’t help it.
Rick laughed too. “It sounds funny now, but I did more than that. I chased him off, Mom.”
“It’s okay, Rick. It’s been . . . complicated. For us too. Ever since he showed up last year.”
“It’s not okay.”
“Well, Andrea doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know who JD is, either. We didn’t tell her very much about him. But . . .” Leanne paused. She didn’t want to say too much about Andrea or say anything she might regret.
“Leanne?”
It was Art. She turned around. Apparently, they had started talking too loudly.
“Maybe I should go,” Rick whispered, taking a step back. “I don’t want to upset him or cause him any setbacks.”
“Actually, he’s doing a lot better. He’s not near as fragile as he was before the surgery. I think he might like to see you . . . if you’re up to it.” She turned back toward Art. “Someone’s here to see you, Art.”
“Wait a minute,” Rick said. “I forgot something in the waiting room.” He put the wooden box back in the bag and handed it to her. Then rushed off toward the waiting room.
Leanne hurried over to Art’s bed. “Art, you’re not going to believe this. Something wonderful has happened to Rick. Are you okay? Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah, just a little tired, as usual. What’s happened?”
“God’s doing something,” she said in an excited whisper, leaning over his bed. “He found the box, the one in his top dresser drawer.”
“The one with JD’s stuff in it?” His eyes instantly showed alarm.
“Yes, but it’s okay. Really.” She heard footsteps, turned to see Rick in the doorway. “Are you up to seeing him?”
“Sure,” Art said. “I think so.”
Leanne nodded for Rick to come in. She was surprised to see him empty-handed and wondered what he’d forgotten back in the waiting room. Rick walked toward the bed, slowly, almost apprehensively. His eyes filled with tears again as he drew near. She stepped back to give him some room.
This was an amazing moment. She’d prayed for Rick’s heart to change for so many years, had given up on everything but prayer to bring about that change.
“Hi, Art,” Rick said, a tear sliding down his cheek.
“Hi, Rick. Good to see you.”
Rick looked as if he were thinking of something light to say back, but his emotions took over. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Art,” he said through tears. He sat on the chair next to the bed, rested his hand on the edge. “I’ve been so wrong about you, for so many years.”
Leanne looked at Art, and he looked back at her. He was smiling. Tears were in his eyes. He patted Rick’s hand. “It’s okay, Rick.”
Rick looked up. “It’s not okay. You didn’t deserve what you got from me, the way I treated you. What I want to say now is . . . I just want to say I’m sorry.” He stood up. “And I want to say thank you.” He looked at his mom. “Thanks for all the years you’ve loved my mom. You’ve taken wonderful care of her.”
Leanne started to cry.
“I saw all the photographs on the wall in the hallway. She looked so happy . . . in every one.”
“She’s very easy to love,” Art said.
“And thanks for what you’re trying to do for JD . . . my dad. I know what you’ve been trying to do down at the store.”
“We planned to tell you about it,” Art said. “It’s just—”
“We can talk about it later, when you’re better. The most important thing I want to say is . . . well, here, let me show you.” He stepped back from the bed and walked toward the hallway. He reached for something out of view.
Leanne couldn’t believe her eyes. She was about to lose it altogether. She looked over at Art; tears began to stream down his face when he saw what Rick held in his hand.
“You need to get better, Art, real soon,” Rick said. He was holding two fishing poles. “You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
43
It was Friday morning. Rick was driving slowly through the downtown area. Sitting on the seat beside him, a white McDonald’s bag with three Egg McMuffins. He’d hardly slept a wink last night. He was emotionally spent; he thought that would mean he’d sleep like a baby. Instead he tossed and turned for hours. In desperation, he’d even tried three rounds with the Magic Fingers. Of course, it didn’t help. He’d been tempted to finish off a bottle of rum he’d bought last week, but that didn’t feel right.
He kept thinking about JD. What his life had become, how it could have turned out that way, the horrible way Rick had treated him.
Before Rick had left the hospital, his mom and Art had given him a few more details about the situation. Art had done most of the talking. But really, there wasn’t a whole lot to tell. It wasn’t like they’d been able to have coherent conversations with JD, in which he could spell out how and why his life had spiraled out of control since he’d left Rick and Leanne all those years ago. He had just showed up at the store one day, pretty much in his present condition. A homeless guy looking for a handout.
On that day, Art had arrived at the store to open up. JD had been sleeping in the stairwell. A brief conversation occurred. That’s when Art first met his invisible friend, Taylor. He didn’t know it at first. It was maybe a week or two before he figured out who Taylor was. Art continued to see JD for the next several mornings, but Leanne wasn’t with him. Often, she didn’t get to the store until a few hours later. By then JD would be gone. The next Saturday morning, she did come in with Art and was shocked when she realized who he’d been talking about.
Art had been trying to win JD’s confidence ever since. So far, he’d only been able to convince him to let Art hold his “important papers” for safekeeping. JD had to think about it for a few days, said Taylor finally talked him into saying yes. Art had hopes of eventually getting JD to a doctor, to see if they could put him on some medication for his schizophrenia. Maybe get him out of that cardboard box to a halfway house.
A blaring horn snapped Rick out of his thoughts. As he drove through the intersection, he waved to the man in the car behind him, an apology for not seeing the light had turned green. Rick couldn’t find his father anywhere. He looked at the bag of food sitting beside him. By now it had to be cold. He sighed as he turned the car around and headed back to the store to open up.
That first pot of coffee needed to be strong.
“JD is who?”
“He’s my father. Just saying it . . . I still can’t believe it.” Rick had thought he was getting used to the idea as the day wore on. Andrea’s reaction reminded him of how weird this whole thing was.
Rick was glad the store was empty. He filled her in on everything he’d learned about JD so far. “Can you hand me that box of tissues?” he asked. “Think I’m going to need them for this next part.” What was he saying? Rick never cried. Now he was asking for tissues in advance. He did his best to explain what happened on the pier by the river
last night, then later at the hospital. He did all right, till the end. He completely lost it when he got to the part about the fishing poles.
And so did she. As Rick mopped up, he wondered what Andrea must think of him.
“Rick, that is so wonderful,” she said, and threw her arms around him and cried some more.
Not the reaction he’d expected, but . . . he’d take it.
After a few minutes, she got control of herself and pulled back. Rick handed her a few more tissues. “Your parents must have been thrilled, especially Art.”
“Seemed like they were,” he said. Then an odd thought. He didn’t feel the urge to correct her for referring to Art as his parent. “But I’m still struggling.”
“About JD?”
He nodded. “I’ve got to find him. I’ve got to try to make things right.”
She held up a small trash can. They tossed their tissues in it. “If you do, are you going to tell him he’s your dad?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m not sure how he’d take it. My mom’s not even sure if he remembers who she is. She said he avoids her completely and will only come near Art. Right now, I just want to apologize, see if I can get him to start coming back.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You will?”
“I’ll call Amy’s sitter and see if she can stay there for dinner. I know most of the places that feed the homeless around here. We can stop by each one. If he’s not there, I’ll tell them if they see JD to say Andrea said he can come back to the store tomorrow, that it’s okay. He knows me. He might listen if they tell him I said it.”
“Thanks, Andrea.” He wanted to hug her again but didn’t. “I’ll pick up some fresh Egg McMuffins on the way in tomorrow.” Rick looked at his watch. He decided it was time to do something he’d been avoiding all day.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I’ve got to call my boss.”
“What for?”
Rick shook his head then sighed. “I know Art’s doing better, but it looks like he’s going to be in the hospital another few days, if not another week.”
“You going to ask for more time off?”
“I’m going to try.” The little bell above the door rang. An elderly woman walked in.
“I’ll take care of her, you go make your call.”
Rick decided to use the phone back in the office. He stared at the receiver a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Nothing came. He picked it up and dialed the number. Within a few seconds, the secretary put him through. He hoped Mr. Rainey might be in a TGIF mood.
“Hello, Jim Rainey here. How can I help you?”
“It’s Rick, Mr. Rainey. Rick Denton.”
“Rick,” he said in a pleasant tone. “Where are you?”
“Still in Florida, sir.”
“You wrapping things up?”
“Umm . . . it does look like my stepfather is going to make it after all.”
“So, you’ll be back here Monday?”
“If I need to be.”
“What’s that mean, Rick?” The pleasantness was gone.
“He’s still in the hospital, Mr. Rainey. I was hoping to give my mother a few more days to be with him.”
“Is he dying?”
“Doesn’t look that way.”
“Then I think you need a little help keeping track of your priorities. See you back here on Monday.” Then a click. He had hung up.
So much for TGIF, Rick thought. He got up and walked toward the front of the store.
Andrea had just finished with some customers at the counter. After they exited the store, she said, “Looks like it didn’t go so well.”
“It didn’t. He pretty much ordered me back Monday.”
“Would he fire you if you didn’t come back?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Rick. We’ll make out somehow.”
Rick appreciated what she said. But she had a look on her face that didn’t quite line up with her words.
44
Rick turned left at the now familiar downtown intersection, saw the morning sun lighting up the church steeple ahead on the right. As he got closer, he saw Andrea’s car parked next to the Book Nook. Last night had been wonderful and disappointing at the same time.
The disappointment was, they had spent two hours visiting every charity and street ministry in the area; no one had seen JD all day. The upside was spending two hours driving around with Andrea. Then afterward, she had agreed to grab a quick bite to eat with him before heading back to her babysitter to get Amy.
As they ate, Rick mentioned he was still planning to bring the Egg McMuffins in this morning. Andrea had suggested they get there thirty minutes early. If JD wasn’t at the store, they could take a quick drive around to all the downtown charities that served breakfast. It shouldn’t take long; it was less than half the number who served dinner.
Rick pulled in behind Andrea’s car. As he got out, she was coming around the corner of the building, shaking her head. “Sorry, Rick. He’s not here.”
Rick sighed. Where could he be? “Hope he hasn’t skipped town. If he has, I may never find him.”
She looked at her watch. “You ready to take that drive?” Rick nodded. “Let me get in there and make a quick note,” she said, looking toward the front door.
“What for?”
“In case we’re a little late getting back. Not many customers come in this early on Saturday, but in case any do.”
“Good idea.” He watched her head down the steps and unlock the door. It was the strangest thing, and the strangest time for something like this to dawn on him. But as he watched her walk into the store, he realized, very clearly . . . he was in love with her. That was what these feelings were. He’d been attracted to dozens of women over the years, even felt strong feelings for a few of them.
But nothing had ever come close to this.
The clarity in his heart just then was strong enough that if he’d heard a minister ask, “Will you forsake all others and cling only to her for as long as you both shall live?” Rick felt he could immediately and with certainty say, “I will.”
She came out of the store and looked up at him. “What?” she said.
“What?” he said back.
“You’re smiling now,” she said. “You looked so upset before.” She turned and relocked the door.
“Just had a funny thought,” he said.
“Care to tell me?” She climbed the steps. “Think I could use a smile about now.”
I would love to tell you, he thought, but he knew if he did, she’d run for the hills. “It’s nothing. Want to take my car?”
“Of course,” she said, giving her car a disparaging look.
They got in. Andrea set the McDonald’s bag on her lap and Rick drove off. “Got an extra one in there for you, if you want it.”
“I’m starving. Sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Ate mine on the way.”
“There’s three of them in here.”
“One for you, one for JD, and an extra one for Taylor.”
“That was sweet, Rick.”
Rick pulled out onto the road. “I hope we find him. You’re going to have to tell me where to stop.”
It took about twenty-five minutes to make all their stops. Once again, no luck. And the worst part, no one had seen JD for the last few days.
“Where could he be?” Andrea said as they headed back to the store.
“Maybe I scared him off for good,” said Rick. “Maybe he decided to call it quits and head south.”
“Maybe, but didn’t you tell him he could start coming back when Art got better?”
“Yeah . . . while I was yelling at him to get lost.” He wished he’d known then what he knew now. Or better yet, that he hadn’t been such a jerk in the first place.
“Say, Rick, something just popped into my head. Remember when the store got robbed and you went out looki
ng for JD? Didn’t you find him in the park, the one near the river?”
“Yes.” Rick quickly pulled into the right-hand lane and turned at the next intersection. “Certainly worth a try.”
It wasn’t far, less than a mile. He pulled into the same parking area as before, but there weren’t any other cars. They got out, and Rick looked around. He didn’t see anyone.
“Want me to bring this?” Andrea asked, holding the bag of food.
“I don’t know. Might as well, but it doesn’t look too promising.”
He walked first to the area where he’d spotted JD before: the cement wall that ran along the river. Then over by the playground, then by the fountain. No luck.
“I don’t know, Andrea,” he said, sighing heavily. “Think this is a lost cause.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. She put her hands on either side of her mouth and yelled. “JD! Are you here?”
Wow, could she make some noise.
“JD!” she yelled again. “It’s Andrea . . . from the Book Nook. Are you here? I want to talk to you!”
Rick turned around. Behind him, deep within a thick cluster of trees and scrub palms, he heard a crackling sound.
Andrea heard it too. “JD . . . is that you? It’s Andrea.”
“Taylor, you hear that?”
“I did. You’re being summoned.”
“What’s that even mean?”
The voice called out again. “JD . . . is that you? It’s Andrea.”
“It’s Andrea,” JD said. “From the bookstore. What day is it?”
“It’s Saturday,” Taylor said. “I think we overslept. I told you we might if we stayed here. The sun can’t even get through all these trees. I’ll bet we missed breakfast.”
“But it’s Andrea, from the Book Nook. That’s right, she works on Saturdays. She’s almost as nice as Art. But what’s she doing here, in this place?”