by W B Dineen
Jake reaches his hand into his jacket and pulls out another damn envelope. He slides it over to me. Again, it says “Katydid” on the front. I open it slowly like I’m expecting a snake to jump out.
CHAPTER 10
I take a sip of iced tea before pulling the paper out of the envelope.
Dear Katie,
If you’re reading this letter, you’ve decided to keep pursuing the answers to your questions. I’m glad you’re sticking with it. I want you to know the truth, but there are a couple of rules you must follow.
The first is that Jake will stay with you at all times. He’ll even go back to California with you. Don’t balk at this, it’s for your own safety, and one hundred percent non-negotiable. If you choose not to let him come with you, he’ll stop passing on information.
The second is that no one can discover Jake was my friend. You can’t even tell Jenny.
Jake has a list of people for you to visit in California. I’ve left correspondences for each. They are to open the letters and read them in your presence. Jake knows what this is regarding and will advise you how to act in each situation.
My sweet daughter, don’t lose your nerve now. You’ve come this far, and answers are within your reach. Remember how much I love you and how proud I’ve been to have you for a daughter. You and Jen are the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.
All My Love,
Dad
I put the letter down and stare at Jake in total shock. Before I can form a coherent thought, he takes my hand and smiles. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. If you’re really lucky, I might even pretend to be your boyfriend.” I know he’s teasing, but it’s still kind of a thrilling thought. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, primarily due to my travel schedule and my distrust of the male species as a whole.
What am I getting myself involved in? How in the fresh hell am I going to explain this man to my sister? She knows me better than any person on the planet. She’s my best friend and knows I keep my distance from romantic entanglements. Sure, I’ve dated, but it’s been ages since I’ve stuck with one guy long enough to claim exclusivity. Yet somehow, I’m supposed to come back from my father’s funeral and move Jake in without explaining why?
Jake must have been more than my father’s friend, so I ask him about it. He nods his head, “First and foremost, your dad was my friend. But you’re right, there’s a lot more to it than that.”
I ask, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“How long were you friends with my dad?”
“About nine years.” I briefly wonder if Jake and Theo were lovers. Jake doesn’t appear in the least bit gay, and my gaydar is pretty darned accurate, but you never know. Two men living on the same property in a remote setting. Could my dad have left us because he was a homosexual and was tired of living a double-life?
CHAPTER 11
After Jake pays the check, we walk out of the restaurant and head toward his truck. We’re almost there when he grabs my arm and suddenly changes direction. “Don’t look around, don’t act strange, just follow me.”
You know how someone can say something truly bizarre, like “don’t think of purple socks,” and then purple socks keeping popping into your head until they’re the only think you can think of? That’s how I feel right now. All I want to do is look around and find out what Jake doesn’t want me to see.
I shuffle along next to him as he pulls me in the direction of a grocery store. “What don’t you want me to look at? What’s going on?”
He keeps his eyes straight ahead and increases his pace through the shopping center parking lot. “Kate, remember how you said you wanted to stay and find out the truth about why your dad left you?” I nod my head, and he continues, “This might be a good time to reevaluate that decision.”
“Why?” I can’t restrain myself anymore, I turn my head and scan the area. There are a lot of moms with young children, a variety of old people, and a beat-up pick-up truck just like the one that almost hit me on the freeway. “Holy shit, are we being followed?”
Jake grabs my hand and instructs, “Quit looking around and hold my hand like you want to. You’re acting as jumpy as a wet cat and that’s only going to draw attention to us.”
Okay, first of all, I kind of do want to hold his hand. It’s rough and slightly callused, but it’s also big and manly, and it feels oh-so-right in mine. Yet, I also want to keep looking around and figure out what’s going on. I just met this guy. I only have his and my father’s word that I should trust him. Considering my dad abandoned me when I was a child, I’m not sure I should put much stock in his opinion.
When we finally walk through the sliding doors of the IGA, Jake grabs a cart. “Push this to the back of the store where the bathrooms are. Leave the cart there and keep going through the storage area in the back.” He instructs, “It’s marked Employees Only. Find the exit and go out that door. Wait for me there.” Before I can ask any questions, he runs swiftly in the opposite direction toward the deli.
Fear prickles at the base of my neck. Little hairs all over my body stand on end. I’m not sure I should listen to him. The alternative would be to stay put and find out who comes into the store after us. Neither idea sounds particularly enticing, so I ultimately follow Jake’s directive.
As I rush down the cereal aisle, I realize I waited too long to move, because when I turn around to see if I’m being trailed, I discover I am. A man wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket is scanning the aisles. He’s wearing dark sunglasses which make him look like one of the “men in black” you see in the movies. When he sees me, he makes a bee-line in my direction. I pick up my speed, push an employee out the way, and run out the back exit in record time.
Jake’s truck is waiting right outside the door and I jump in as he peels away from the curb. “What in the hell was that all about?”
He turns left down the alleyway behind the store before pulling out onto the main road. “I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure? Who’s following you?”
He shrugs his shoulders as he looks over at me. Then he turns right into a school parking lot. “Look, Kate, I don’t know who that was and I’m not sure what they’re after. I just think you might want to reconsider whether or not you keep pursuing answers about your dad.”
“Was my father in some kind of trouble?”
He sighs. “Theo instructed me to only let you know certain things at certain times. He was my friend, so I’m going to do as he asked, but that might not be enough for you.”
“So, my only choices are to walk away and learn nothing or stick around and only learn what my dad wanted me to know.”
He nods his head thoughtfully. “That’s pretty much it.”
I look out the window as young children run around the playground at recess. I hear their squeals of laughter and delight. They look so innocent and free of worry. Yet, I wonder how many of them have secret struggles like I did. I finally answer, “I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow.”
When we get back to the house, Jake tells me to wait in the truck while he goes in first to make sure the coast is clear. When he finally signals, I have to force myself to open the door. I’m no longer sure I want to have access to Theo’s secrets. I’m not sure they’re worth putting my safety at risk. Having said that, I’m more intrigued than ever to find out why he left and curious to see if the person who was following us has something to do with it.
CHAPTER 12
Today is my dad’s funeral. I wonder if there will be an open casket and I’ll get to see him. Why didn’t I think to ask Jake about that before now? Suddenly, my chest tightens, and I can hardly breathe. I start to sweat and become a little dizzy. I’m not a person who suffers from anxiety, but darn if this doesn’t feel like some kind of panic attack.
I sit down on the bed and talk myself into slowing my inhalations. After a minute or two, my skin cools and I no longer see spots in
front of my eyes. I stay still for a few more seconds before I trust I’m not going to faint again.
Jake told me that Theo died at home from a heart attack. He was fifty-nine years old and otherwise in good physical health. I haven’t found any current pictures of him, making the thought of seeing him dead nearly unbearable. How did he age? Will he still look like the dad I remember, only grayer and with wrinkles? What will he be wearing? Will he look peaceful? Will there be a smile on his face? A grimace?
I never had grandparents. They all died before I was born. It never occurred to me to think that was odd, but now I’m wondering if my dad’s parents really are dead or if he just said they were because he was living under an assumed name. What if they’re still alive? They’d be in their eighties, so it’s entirely possible. What if they’re at the funeral? It’s a staggering thought.
I close my eyes and let my brain take another trip down Memory Lane. I remember Christmas the year I was six. It was hands down the best one of my childhood. Jen was a baby, so she still felt new and shiny, like an early present. I’d lost my two front teeth and incessantly sang the song on the same topic. My favorite line was, “Thithter Thuthie thitting on a thistle . . .”
It was the first year I can remember driving down Christmas Tree Lane, which was an entire street in Pasadena lined in huge pine trees. The branches were so wide they connected to corresponding partners across the street. They were all adorned with big colorful lights that formed a magical tunnel for cars to drive through. We drove up and down four times before going out for ice-cream. I had Peppermint Patty and Fudge Ripple.
I got my first Barbie that year and a doll that talked. But the most exciting thing was my mom letting me get my ears pierced a full four years before she’d previously said I could. She said I was a big girl now that I was a big sister. It made me love Jen all the more.
We all had the stomach flu during Christmas the following year, so I’ve done my best to block those memories. And by the time the holidays rolled around the year I was eight, my dad had already been gone for two months.
Long forgotten images like these keep popping into my head: my dad walking me to school when he wasn’t teaching an early class, my mom making fresh lemonade from the lemon tree in our backyard, my parents sitting side-by-side on the sofa in front of a roaring fire, commenting on the beauty of the Batchelder fireplace. These recollections are so sharp, like for the first time since the real events occurred, it seems like they happened in my life and not like I saw them in a movie.
Jake slams the back door. “Kate, are you ready?”
Am I ready? Is any child ever ready for something like this? Even if I’d had the luxury of growing up with my dad, I can’t imagine being emotionally prepared for his funeral. Yet I know that’s not what he’s asking. I holler back, “Give me two minutes!”
I wish Jen were here with me. But even if she were, she’d have no idea what I was feeling. I’m sure she’d be sad in a detached sort of way, like if you grew up knowing you were adopted and found out one of your birth parents had died. It would be upsetting, but not debilitating. Although how do I know? I wasn’t adopted, I was abandoned. Maybe the two are more similar than I think.
Jake looks particularly stunning in his black suit. He’s not wearing a tie and the top two buttons of his white shirt are open, giving me a tiny peek at his muscular chest. I wonder how in the world I’ll be able to be around him for a full year without throwing myself at him. I’m usually not this fluttery in the presence of men I’m attracted to, but everything about being in Oregon has heightened my senses. Everything is amplified to an almost unbearable degree.
I have on my favorite power dress. It’s the one I always wear when I have an important meeting and need a boost. It’s a black wrap dress that shows off a good amount of skin without revealing any real cleavage. It’s knee length and I pair it with a classic pair of Kate Spade kitten heels. This ensemble makes me feel like I’m in charge of whatever situation I’m in, except for now. Now, I feel like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. I’m vulnerable and scared. It’s like I’m eight years old all over again.
CHAPTER 13
Theo’s sendoff is being held at a funeral home instead of a church. Jake drives us to the historical part of town and parks his truck in front of an old brick house covered in ivy. Nothing about the structure suggests it’s a funeral home. It looks like it started out as a private residence and could have been such for a hundred years or more before being converted. If I were a location scout, I’d choose Albany as the setting for everything from Little Women to more current stories requiring a charming small-town backdrop.
We arrive a half hour ahead of time. Jake’s adamant we’re there before any of the other guests. I’m not sure what his reasons are, but it helps place me on firmer footing by acclimating to my surroundings, so I don’t complain.
My father’s friend turns off the ignition and faces me. “Follow my lead, okay?”
“Um, okay. What does that mean?”
“It means your story might change depending on who we’re talking to. Not everyone is going to hear the same version of your history with Theo.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Kate”—he brushes a strand of hair from my cheek and I get a whiff of his manly scent— “I know this whole situation is strange for you. I know it must be frustrating not to be handed the answers you want, but if you decide to pursue this, it all has to be done in a certain way.”
What he’s saying is that he’s not going to answer any of my questions and I have to blindly trust he has an important reason for perpetrating all this drama.
I’m still not sure what I’m going to do after yesterday’s excitement. I just want to get through today without falling apart. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough to decide.
The first person we meet upon walking through the front door is an attractive woman of middle years. She’s wearing a burgundy sweater dress and introduces herself as Barb. I learn she and her husband, Jim, own the funeral home.
Barb shakes my hand and offers, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Kate. Your dad was a special part of our town.”
I try to say, “Thank you,” but suddenly I’m being strangled by heightened emotion. I manage a weird guttural noise before Jake puts his arm around my waist and replies, “You and Jim have been amazing, taking care of everything so quickly.”
Barb smiles kindly. “It’s what we do.” Then she gestures to a door on the right of us. “If you’ll follow me, Theo’s in here.”
Oh, my god, this is it. Theo is in there. I still haven’t asked Jake if it’s going to be an open casket, so I have no idea what I’m walking into. He senses my hesitation and pulls me closer to his side, probably so it’s easier for him to drag me along should my feet refuse to budge.
Barb opens the door but doesn’t join us. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone.”
The room is on the small side, like the parlor of a hundred-and-forty-year-old house would be. There are fifty or so chairs set up in four rows facing the casket, which is closed. This relieves and disappoints me at the same time. I slowly step forward until I’m standing right in front of it. I stare at the dark-mahogany box tenderly as my eyes fill with tears. I tentatively run my hand across the glossy lid and whisper, “Damn it, Dad, what kind of reunion is this?”
My body is weighed down by grief. My father, my idol during my earliest years, is in this box, dead. I’ll never hug him again. I’ll never have a picnic with him. He’s gone, and all I’m left with are innumerable questions and endless sadness.
I don’t know how long I’m standing there before I notice Jake walking around the room. He lifts a painting away from the wall before lowering it back. Then he moves to the floral arrangements and fusses with a couple of them. He proceeds to the seating area and sits in a few different chairs before joining me at the casket. I watch him reach underneath it.
Suddenly, my eyes widen. “Are you looking f
or bugs?”
He smiles crookedly. “You picked that up, huh?”
“It was either that or you have some pretty freaky OCD tendencies.”
“Just curious to see if someone is trying to eavesdrop on the service without showing their face,” he replies.
I think of our near run-in at the grocery store yesterday, and a thought hits me, “Do you think my dad was murdered?”
Jake shakes his head. “No.” And that’s all he has a chance to say before the door opens and people walk in.
CHAPTER 14
In an effort not to talk to anyone before the funeral begins, I sit down in the front row and stare straight ahead. Jake works the crowd, welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming. He plays the part of host, which is more appropriate for him to do than for me. Jake was closer to my dad than I was. It’s a painful realization.
Everyone moves to find a seat as Theo’s lawyer, Duncan Fenway, steps to the front of the room. He stands quietly next to the casket while they settle down. Then he begins, “We’re here to celebrate the life of our dear friend, Theodore Hawks.”
His eyes scan the room. “Theo not only grew up in Albany, but he helped to put us on the map as having one of the best high schools in the state.” Gesturing to Jake, he says, “Jake Sorenson’s own father, Bill, saw something special in Theo while teaching him advanced math at West High School.”
This is a new piece of information. I wonder why Jake never mentioned it, but then again, he doesn’t say much, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
Duncan fidgets with a small stack of index cards. “Back then, Theo was creating hypotheses and working on theorems so far ahead of his education that Bill brought him to the attention of the head of the math department at the University of California, Berkeley. As a result, Theodore graduated West two years ahead of schedule and moved to California to start his degree in astrophysics.”