Win for Love

by Isabelle Peterson

  I catch Talia's eye and wave her over. Graciously, she excuses herself from Aunt Tina and Marlene and comes to me.

  “Talia,” Jimmy says. “It really is so good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you as well, Mr. Goodman and to meet your wife.” Talia smiles at Debbie who smiles right back.

  “Stop with the ‘Mr. Goodman’ business, okay? Please call me Jimmy. Everyone does.”

  “Speaking of names,” Debbie says politely. “Talia is an unusual name. It’s Jewish, right?”

  Talia glances at me nervously. I know it’s because of her name. She isn’t sure if she should tell everyone her story, or just let people call her Talia and move forward with the life she’s created. I let the decision be up to her, and I told her I would support whatever choice she made. I see her nervous habit of rubbing her thumb and finger together and take her under my arm. She clears her throat and “Talia is actually a nickname from my brother.” Talia tells them her real name which relieves me greatly and then tells how she got the nickname and that she decided to use a new name when she moved to Chicago.

  “So, where did you move from?” Jimmy asks.

  “A super small town in southern Illinois. Harton,” she divulges. I’m so proud that she’s being so forthcoming. I would have held all these secrets for her, and will still hold others until she reveals them, but so much better not to have to keep things from my family.

  “Really? Harton?” Jimmy asks and chuckles. “Wow. That brings back some memories.”

  “Isn’t that where your Uncle Chuck lived?”

  “Yeah. Wow. Small world.”

  “So, you’ve been?” Talia asks with great interest.

  “Believe it or not, I used to want to be a mechanic. I’m from Springfield, and my Uncle Chuck had this little garage in Harton. And summers while I was in high school, he let me stay with him and tinker on the easy jobs that came in.”

  “That’s right! Back when everyone called you Goodwrench,” Debbie says, laughing.

  Talia stiffens in my arm, and when I look down, I see her looking positively pale.

  “Then once in college, my dad talked to this guy who talked to that guy, and the summer after graduation I found myself in an internship program at the law firm. That’s where I learned I really loved law.”

  “Wh… When was that?” she asks timidly, her voice tiny and wavering, forcing a smile. She swallows then adds, “When you were in Harton.”

  “Oh, geez. That’s gotta go back to…” Jimmy runs his hand through his hair and scratches the back of his neck. “Summers from 1992 to 1994. I imagine a lot’s changed since then.”

  Talia nods, and the conversation shifts to what Jimmy and Debbie have planned for their upcoming anniversary—twenty years.

  When Debbie and Jimmy have joined Marlene and Albert with talk about where to stay in Bali, I lead Crystal to a quiet corner. “Hey, you okay?” She’s been uncomfortably quiet since the whole Harton conversation. “Are you afraid that Jimmy might know your mom?”

  She doesn’t answer me, but her eyes are wide, and she looks like she might be sick. She glances around and asks, “Can we talk somewhere?”

  Her question surprises me, but the fear and uncertainty in her voice grips my heart, so I usher her down the hallway and into my old bedroom.

  CRYSTAL

  We step into a room down a dark hallway, and when I look around, I realize this is David’s old bedroom. Tan and blue plaid bedding with a coordinated wallpaper and paint job surround us. Photos of David with family and various people on sailboats, on rowing and sailing teams, as well as ribbons and trophies line the walls. Baseball caps and mitts make a display tucked in the corner. It’s like a shrine to David’s youth.

  “What’s up?” David says once the door is closed, and we’re sitting on the edge of his bed. His face is so filled with concern my heart does a little squeeze.

  How do I tell David the crazy thought spinning through my head? It’s so absurd I’m sure I’ve started making things up. Hell, I almost expect to see the Mad Hatter run through the room and find the Cheshire Cat up on a shelf wagging his tail and grinning at me.

  I haven’t given this whole notion any thought for the past twelve years or so. But the coincidences add up and are unavoidable to address.

  “Talia, just say it. You’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t think Jimmy just knew my mom…” I start, the rest of the idea seeming more and more outlandish as I think of it. Yet, at the same time, so many pieces fit together. David looks at me, waiting for me to finish my thought. “I think he might be my dad.”

  David blinks a few times and is silent.

  I should have just kept my darn mouth closed. I’m ruining everything.

  “Forget it. I don’t know what I’m thinking.” I move to get up from the bed, but David pulls me back.

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, I just don’t know what to say. What makes you think he could be your father?”

  “It’s a number of things, and one really big thing. For starters, I was born in 1994. He was there then. And he has red hair. No one else in my mom’s side of the family has red hair. Something contributed to my coloring. And I feel really comfortable around him. But the big thing…” My mouth is dry. I swallow and finish my thought. “My mom always said she didn’t know who my dad was. She has said it could be a number of guys, but one guy she thought was a possibility was someone named Goodwrench. Okay, now that I’m saying this out loud really makes me seem crazy. I’m sorry, I—”

  “Not crazy, Tal. That’s a lot of coincidences. You know something? Your little finger and thumb rubbing thing? The thing you do when you’re nervous?” I look down at my hand and rub my thumb in circles on my index finger and glance at David who is looking at the small thing I do. “Yeah, that. Jimmy does it, too.”

  I stop the motion and look at David. He doesn’t think I’m crazy after all. His eyes search my face like he’s doing some math equation. “You know something else? I do see some uncanny resemblance between the two of you.”

  “So now what? I can’t just say ‘Hey. I think you’re my dad.’ I mean, I wasn’t even looking. I stopped thinking about finding my father when I was eleven or twelve.”

  “You’re right. This has to be handled delicately. Jeez, Jimmy was just a high schooler back then.”

  I’m mortified when David puts it like that. My mom was twenty-six when I was born. Jimmy was really young.

  “What a mess,” I breathe, dropping my head into my hands. “I should just forget this whole notion. I mean. I made it this far. I don’t need a dad.”

  “Hey,” David says, gently taking hold of my shoulders. I realize I’m shaking. David pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Everyone can benefit from a father no matter their age. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  32

  A Million Questions

  CRYSTAL

  I call my mom that night. I want to ask her a million questions, but I have no idea where to start. I’m thrilled that Mom is still working for Candy and attending AA meetings. She’s so excited for Tuesday when she’ll have earned her thirty-day chip. She also tells me that things are going well for Jude. My mom sounds so happy and positive, I almost chicken out asking her my big question, not wanting to bring her down at all.

  “So, I know I haven’t brought it up in ages, but my father. You’re sure you don’t know anything about him?”

  “Wow. That sure is a blast from the past. We’ve been talking about the past in AA. Working on remembering how we got to where we are. Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about back then when Jude’s daddy left us. That was kind of the start of my downward spiral. I don’t remember a whole lot, baby doll, I’m so sorry. I…” I hear her voice catch, and I feel terrible for putting her on the spot like that.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I promise. I just…” I start to question my next move. Should I tell her I think I found him? What would telling her do?
/>
  “I was just wondering. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

  I turn the conversation back to the positive things—her job and Jude. She asks me about my job, and I fib and tell her things are going great. She asks me if the pay is enough, and she cautions me about my spending, then laughs, saying, “Look who I’m telling how to run her life?”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “All set?” Jimmy asks as I exit the exam room only four days after my suspicion that Jimmy ‘Goodwrench’ Goodman might be my father. My head is spinning, and it’s not just from the vile of blood the doctor just pulled from my arm.

  I nod feeling a bit dizzy. He smiles at me, and he wraps his fatherly arm around me.

  When David and I asked to meet with Jimmy on Monday, I had no idea how he would react.

  * * *

  “Thanks for seeing us,” David said as we stepped into Jimmy’s office on State Street.

  “Not at all. What can I do for my favorite Waterston?” Jimmy greeted us, his grin oddly putting me at ease. We take seats in a small conversational seating area in his huge office. “You’re not in some legal hotbed, are ya?” he asked pointedly, sitting across from David and me.

  David laughed, and I’m not sure, but he sounded nervous.

  “Actually, it’s more about Talia,” David said, knowing I was nervous about breaking the ice. “And you.”

  “Me?” Jimmy asked, clearly surprised. He shot me a look as if to say, ‘Is David feeling okay?’

  I took a deep breath and finally spoke. “Did you meet a woman named Sheryl Jameson when you were in Harton?” I pulled a picture from my purse. It was the only picture I had of my mom and me. Jude had gotten a camera for his birthday and was taking pictures of everything. I’ve always loved this picture because my mom was sober that day. The three of us had been playing a game of Sorry, with made-up game pieces, but that was no matter. We were laughing and having fun.

  Jimmy took the picture from my hand. “This is you and your mom?” he asked, glancing at me while studying the photograph.

  “Yes. I was eight or so.”

  “You must look more like your dad,” he mused out loud. He chuckled softly, then looked at the picture, me, and then the picture again. He studied the picture with an intense stare, and his hand holding the tattered picture started to tremble slightly. “Wow. You look just like my sister, Jenny, did at that age.”

  I held my breath. Was he going to put the pieces together the way I did? Slowly, he looked up at me and studied my face.

  “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” he asked carefully.

  “I don’t know. What are you thinking?” I asked just as carefully.

  David squeezed my hand. I glanced at him and saw nothing but pride and love on his face. He knew how hard this was for me. David’s eyes glanced at Jimmy’s hands then to mine, and I saw what David wanted me to see. That Jimmy was doing that same finger-rubbing thing that I did! That I was doing right then!

  “She does look familiar. Your mom.” He licked his lips then swallowed hard. I noticed a bead of sweat on his forehead just a moment before he wiped it away. “When were you born?” he asked. His voice was shaking as much as his hand was.

  “March 8, 1994.”

  I can practically see the cogs in Jimmy’s head turning. “That would mean you were conceived in June 1993. The summer before my senior year…”

  Jimmy took a shaky breath and stood, then started pacing a well-worn path on the carpet in his office.

  “Is it possible, Uncle Jim? Could you be Talia’s father?”

  Jimmy stopped pacing and looks at me. His eyes soften, and he lets out a breath. “All evidence seems to point to that conclusion, doesn’t it?”

  * * *

  “You know this was just a formality, right? Everything in my bones tells me that I’m your dad. I’m just sorry I never knew.”

  I can’t help but smile. I hug the man, and an excited peace comes into my heart.

  “C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream. What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “Strawberry,” I answer.

  “No way! Me, too! With chocolate sauce,” Jimmy tells me.

  “I’ve never had chocolate sauce on mine.”

  “Well, lemme be the one to introduce you.”

  We spend the next two hours walking and talking, sharing our likes and dislikes. Jimmy tells me that he’d wanted kids, but Debbie had been unable to conceive. “That’s why we’ve always treated David, and when she was still here, Darlene, like they were our kids.” Jimmy falls quiet for a moment, his face tight like he's thinking about something. Then he asks, “How is your mom doing?”

  Oh boy! I want to tell Jimmy everything. About growing up in the trailer park with my alcoholic mother. About my repeat offender brother and his numerous run-ins with the law. But I don’t. I don’t want him to feel bad about my childhood. If he is my father, he might feel bad for having seemingly ‘abandoned’ me. He might feel bad about my mom and what’s become of her. I don’t want Jimmy to feel bad. Instead, I focus on the present. “She’s doing well. Has a job she really likes, a great friend, and a place that’s paid for.”

  “Good, good,” he mutters, nodding. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he says, his blue eyes watering.

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. My mom didn’t even know,” I offer with a shrug.

  I feel so badly for Jimmy. I can’t imagine what he must be feeling with this whole business dumped in his lap.

  “So, what brought you up this way?” he asks. “School?”

  “Eventually. I have to get my applications in and hopefully start at the new year.”

  “Do you know what you want to study?”

  “No idea. A friend of mine actually suggested law.”

  Jimmy’s face lights up. “Well, I know an office where you can work and get lots of experience.”

  “Seriously?" I ask. He nods. “Thank you,” I reply, grinning like an idiot.

  “And how are you going to pay for school? I’d like to help.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I, uh, I actually have the money, I think.”

  “Oh?” he asks with surprise.

  I might as well tell the man since it’s very likely he’s my father. Besides, he is a lawyer, and I may need his help at some point.

  “I actually won the lottery a few months back.”

  “Say what?” he asks, clearly thrown for a loop.

  I explain the whole story, well, most of it—leaving out why I didn’t bring my mom up, and that I was still paying her mortgage.

  “That’s fantastic! I have a lucky daughter!”

  I look at him in surprise at what he just said.

  “As I said, I’m certain of it. And hey, my offer still stands for paying your tuition. It’s the least I can do. You keep your money for you.”

  “Jimmy, I—”

  “You’ll take the money. Please. I insist. Call it the Jimmy Goodman Scholarship if you want.”

  I’m overwhelmed with this man’s warmth and generosity. I hope… oh, I hope it’s true. I hope he’s my father.

  “What if…” I say, uncertain how to say the rest of what I’m thinking.

  “What if the results are no?” he finishes as though he’s reading my mind.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’ve still met a heck of a lucky, young woman. With a scholarship.”

  I hug him tightly. I know, just as he does, in my bones, that he’s my dad.

  33

  The Results

  CRYSTAL

  Lainey and I are just coming back to our building from the gallery where her show opened last week to rave reviews. It had been David and my first public outing, and fortunately, the paparazzi were kind, not to mention that Lainey was fiercely protective of David and me. Since the show, Lainey’s sold almost all her pieces and has two offers from other respected galleries.

  On our way back, we had stopped at my PO Box, and since th
en, although I’m trying hard to concentrate, I don’t hear much of what she’s saying. My mind is on my mail in my purse. In just a couple minutes, I’ll be in my apartment and can open that envelope which threatens to burn a hole in my bag. It’s been two weeks since the blood draw with Jimmy.

  “Which do you think?”

  “Sorry, what?” I say, embarrassed to have missed the question.

  “The… Never mind, where have you been? I swear you’ve been MIA since we left the post office. Is everything okay?”

  She’s so caring, and I feel like a bad friend for not cluing her in on everything going on. “Can I distract you for a bit from the gallery stuff?”

  “Oh God, please! I feel like it’s all I think about, and I really want to think about something else!”

  The elevator gets to our floor, and we walk off. “Come inside for a bit. This is a long story if you have time.”

  “Gladly!”

  Once inside, I grab us a couple of bottled waters, and we sit in my living room.

  I decide to go for broke with my story and dive right in.

  “So, my real name is Crystal Jameson,” I say.

  “Right. We went over that the other day,” she says, unbothered.

  I take a deep breath and then dive into a quick overview of my life in Harton with my criminal brother and alcoholic mother. I tell her about the lottery, and now my drama with Jimmy Goodman. She already knows about David.

  “I just can’t even,” she says, her eyes wide and glassy. “I mean, what are the odds? I’d say you should play the lottery, but you already did that! Holy shit!”

  “You’re not mad at me for not being totally honest earlier?”

  “Hell no! We all have our secrets. One day I’ll tell you mine, okay?”

  “You have secrets?”

  “I might,” she says with a coy smile.