by Lia Conklin
Jonathon was standing inside facing the door, paying little attention to the newspaper he held in his hand. He let out a crooked smile, as he saw her. She wondered how big his smile would get if he just let it be.
“Hello, Amelia. It’s nice to see you again,” he said, grabbing her hand and shaking it in both of his.
“Imagine us meeting again. So many coincidences,” she kidded.
“What can I get you?” he asked pointing to the menu above the counter.
After ordering sandwiches and coffee, they found a seat by the window, the sun once more reveling in the tawny waves of Jonathon’s hair. This time Jonathon seemed more intent on Amelia’s eyes, as he stared into them for the first time. He flashed his crooked smile as he caught himself.
Without a blush he admitted, “You just catch me off guard, Amelia.”
She, however, did blush and for once without a comeback, turned her head. The sandwiches arrived just in time to give her a legitimate excuse to look away.
“So, you know what I do,” Jonathon began, “but what about you?”
She was surprised to discover she was completely unprepared for the question. She suddenly realized she had no inkling of her future career plans. Her life in Honduras had been day-to-day, and her life here was now a reality TV show of the investigative kind. The closest thing she had to creating a future for herself was putting an end to her past. How could she say all that?
“I didn’t realize I asked the million-dollar question,” Jonathon laughed. “Maybe you’re a student?” he suggested.
“To be honest,” she finally replied, “I’ve just recently got back to the States and haven’t had much time to contemplate what I’m going to do.”
“How old are you, anyway?” he asked a bit surprised at her answer.
“Twenty-one.”
“You’re younger than I thought,” he replied even more surprised.
“It’s that third-world lifestyle. Ages you beyond your years. I may as well be fifty! But at the same time, I’ve really just begun my life.” She was staring off somewhere beyond the tips of his wispy hair, barely aware of her candor, when she suddenly felt one of his hands on hers.
“You have lived beyond your years,” he responded softly. “Haven’t you? Where were you?” he inquired earnestly.
His hand and words brought her eyes back to him and with it the realization of her vulnerability.
“You know,” she said, using her sandwich as an excuse to withdraw her hand, “unless you have three hours off for lunch, we better save all that for another time. Suffice it to say, I’ve been in Honduras and recently escaped back here where I’m figuring out what to do next. Anyway,” she added laughing, “you’re supposed to be the one on trial here, remember?”
“Somehow I have a feeling your trial would be a lot more enlightening than mine,” he mused, “but have it your way. I’m twenty-nine, a personal injury attorney at Lundberg and Son, and recently lost my mother to cancer.”
“So, our mothers are neighbors,” she replied. Then realizing her response sounded flippant quickly added, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“So am I, and for yours too. When did she pass?” he asked turning the tables once again.
“Over thirteen years ago, but I hadn’t been back until last week.” Amelia stopped there, aware she was heading back into dangerous territory. “What was your mother like?” she asked.
As she had hoped, he was more than eager to pick up the thread. Amelia actually enjoyed his eulogizing, seeing in his mother the things she had so loved in her own. The time passed quickly in this way, and Amelia was excited to see Jonathon check his watch before she ever had to answer another probing question. Except for one, but when he asked her if he could take her to dinner Friday night, she was quick to answer “yes.” Amelia wasn’t sure if the quickness of her response was due more to the fact that she had never been on a formal date or that she was interested in him. But when she found herself picturing him arriving for her, it was Donovan who stood at the door. She realized above all, she just wanted to forget.
Chapter 43
She hadn’t planned on talking to Connie again that day, but the moment she walked through the door, her grandmother held out the phone.
“Connie’s on the line,” she smiled. “So good to talk to her after so many years. She’s really a dear, that one.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” Amelia responded, grabbing the phone and stepping into the hallway for more privacy. “Hey Connie. Missed me already, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Connie snickered. “Actually, I’m calling ’cause I’ve got the obvious solution to our most recent dilemma.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“We hire an investigator.”
“Oh yes, with the two thousand dollars I saved over the summer. Be realistic, Connie. I have no money and no job, and your freelancing doesn’t actually rake in the dough.”
“No really. It’s quite simple. We hire a lawyer who requires a minimal retainer to represent you in a claim against the gas company. The law firm will pay for the investigation and will get paid a percentage of your settlement if you win.”
“Is that how it works? It does sound easy,” Amelia agreed. “Of course, there’s the small thing about the retainer, and then the other small thing about finding a lawyer dumb enough to take a cold case.” Then she smiled. Maybe dumb wasn’t necessary when chivalry was still alive.
“Yes, I think we have a plan,” Amelia concurred.
Chapter 44
Amelia decided to tell her grandmother about her plan to hire a lawyer. Her hope was that her grandmother would offer to loan her the retainer. She was unprepared for her grandmother’s response.
“Why aren’t you going to use the money your mother left you?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” Amelia said, unable to believe she had heard correctly.
“From her life insurance policy. Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about that!” She suddenly threw the hot pad she held in her hand upon the counter. Amelia had never seen her angry before. “I’ve made a lot of excuses for him in the past,” she exclaimed, fists clenched, head lowered towards the counter, “but this is inexcusable.” She lifted her face and looked over at Amelia. “As far as I’m concerned, your father is no longer a son of mine. Sit down. Let me tell you what he should have told you a long time ago.”
They sat down at the table, her grandmother’s pot roast and potatoes momentarily forgotten as they cooled on the stove.
“Your mother had a fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy divided equally between the three of you. Since your brother died as well, it was split between you and your father. A lawyer drew up accounts for both of you. Yours was available to you once you turned eighteen. I believe your father took his to Honduras.”
Amelia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They had lived like peasants in Honduras. Sometimes worse than peasants. She had slaved for him until she was twenty-one, and here there had been a ticket to freedom awaiting her since she turned eighteen. Three years lost in that hellhole when she could have gone to college, or traveled abroad. Or gone to college abroad. The world would have been opened to her. Instead she spent each day as much a beast of burden as her burro Destino had been. She was furious, but lacking a hot pad to throw, she sat there staring at the table, her fury fueling the nausea that began to bubble within.
“I have the lawyer’s name here somewhere,” her grandmother recalled, scrambling to her feet and making her way towards the den. “It’ll take me a bit to find it. I’ve got a bit of a mess over here. Tomorrow you could go to see him and get this all straightened out. No wonder you were in no hurry to get your own place,” she called back over her shoulder. “Here I thought you just liked my company when here you thought you hadn’t a penny in the world. Don’t feel you need to rush out of here, though,” she added. “I have liked the company more than you can possibly know.”
While her g
randmother searched through the drawers and shoeboxes of papers on her desk, Amelia occupied her time with plans of revenge. She wouldn’t waste one more second worrying about her father. She would collect her money and go to college anywhere in the world she wanted, and she would never lay eyes on him again.
It felt good, this fantasy, almost as good as the fantasies that woke her in the night yearning for Donovan. But like those fantasies, reality—and one’s place in it—turned the sweet to bitter. She sat, still staring at the table, tasting the bitterness of knowing she needed to stay to pursue the truth that her father had not.
“Ah, ha!” she heard her grandmother cry from the den. “I can’t believe I actually found it. Not the best filing system, but a shoebox marked ‘tragedy’ does the trick.” She waddled out of the den, a business card extended from her hand. “This’ll give you something to do tomorrow. But right now, let’s get you fed. No sense coming into money on an empty stomach.”
Amelia heeded her grandmother’s wise advice and for the first time, as she savored the tender roast and potatoes, she became excited about the money. She had thought she had no future, yet here, in the midst of discovering her past, she had uncovered a wide-open future. She remembered those glimmers she had held in each palm and suddenly wondered what they actually meant about finding the truth. She had assumed they meant finding out more about the tragedy and about her father, but maybe it was as simple as finding this money. She truly wished that were the case, yet she knew she had gone too far to turn back now, despite the complications and her anger and bitterness. She would search on, twenty-five thousand dollars better equipped.
Chapter 45
She met with the lawyer the next day, and he confirmed everything her grandmother had said. In fact, the news was even somewhat better. In spite of the fact that he had collected his fees out of the original twenty-five thousand dollars, it had been invested and was now a portfolio worth thirty-five. He admitted to her that he had been surprised to see her eighteenth birthday come and go but decided she had simply been patient enough to wait until she really needed it. She didn’t tell him the truth, but she did suggest that he must have been just as surprised that her father hadn’t touched his account, either.
“No, he withdrew it all as soon as it was available, along with the home insurance claim I handled. I suggested he invest it, but he said he needed the cash. It’s not my job to argue, so I got it for him.”
Amelia could not fathom what he could have done with the money. She was sure none of it had made it to Honduras. That twenty-five thousand along with an insurance settlement would have left him with sufficient start-up funds in the U.S., let alone in a third-world country where the dollar would stretch ten or twentyfold.
She decided to concentrate for the time being on her money and told her lawyer that she was content with a few thousand dollars for now and would keep the rest of the portfolio intact. He said he would be delighted to help her, sending her away with a polite handshake, the details of her portfolio, and a five-thousand-dollar check.
As she left his office, she remembered suddenly the date she was to have that evening with Jonathon. She realized that a pair of ratty jeans would never be acceptable, but in the afterglow of dollar signs, she gave herself little time for concern. She simply went shopping.
Chapter 46
Several hours later, she was waiting at her grandmother’s door in an outfit that cost her more than four months’ wages in Honduras. She hadn’t flinched as she paid—okay, she had, but it took her little trouble to justify it upon remembering the years stolen from her. She had painted her finger and toenails to match the pink of the negligee-style top that hung to her hips from beneath the black, loose-knit sweater that tied across her slender waist. Her shiny black pants began at the hem of her camisole and ended at her pink toenails that peeked from beneath the rhinestone circle of her peekaboo pumps. Catching a glimpse of herself in the darkened windowpane, she realized looking that good was worth four months’ wages, regardless of where the money came from. She smiled feeling a twinge of excitement, knowing that Jonathon would be impressed. Her smile was short-lived as she realized Donovan would have been amazed.
She saw his headlights stop below the front steps before she had the chance to ruminate further. No need to have him up for introductions since her grandmother was already at a cocktail party, so Amelia made her way out the front door. Her grandmother would have been thrilled to meet him she knew, and for a moment, Amelia almost felt it was up to her to make her grandmother proud. After all, her own children had left her disappointed. No lawyers or doctors among them, not even by marriage, but here she was, her lawyer looking up at her as she descended the front steps, cutting another of her mental ramblings short.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, giving her the once-over as politely as he could. “You look stunning.”
Amelia couldn’t tell what he looked like under the double-breasted wool jacket he wore but assumed he couldn’t look much better than he already did. His coat and the northern breeze suddenly made her realize she should have spent another month’s wages on a fall jacket. But as Jonathon took her arm and led her to the car, the warmth of his hand through the mesh of her sweater assured her she wouldn’t be needing it, not for that evening at least.
La Belle Vie was a posh downtown Minneapolis restaurant and even after splurging on her outfit, she felt underdressed. Jonathon demonstrated his good breeding by pulling out her chair and gently pushing it back in once she was seated. Amelia tried to picture Donovan in this setting and realized with a smile how out of context he would be. That realization, however, brought home to her how out of context she was as well. Suddenly she felt like an imposter. Who did she think she was? So, she had a portfolio worth thirty-five thousand dollars—pocket change to these people—and an outfit worth two hundred, probably the price of the underwear the lady at the next table was wearing. How much more comfortable she had felt in the grungy shorts and T-shirt she was stuck in for three days on the reservation. How much more at home looking into Donovan’s black eyes than into Jonathon’s blue ones, which she now found staring at her.
He had removed his jacket, and Amelia was struck by how amazing he looked. He had forgone the tie, and instead the top two buttons lay open, revealing the beginnings of his prominent chest that pushed at the buttons of the blue and white striped shirt he wore beneath a blue pinstriped vest. Amelia remembered suddenly that she had been as overwhelmed by the whole of Donovan as she now was by Jonathon’s looks alone, and as unaware as she had been of Donovan’s good looks, she now was of whom Jonathon really was. The magazine cover was so flawless that Amelia wasn’t sure it was worth opening at all. Not only in her opinion, she felt, but in Jonathon’s as well.
She caught his crooked grin and knew she had been caught admiring him. In spite of her blushing, she managed to remain coy.
“I’ve never dated a GQ cover boy before,” she grinned. “I’m a bit taken aback, not to mention by all this as well,” she added, spreading her arms wide.
“I hope that means you like it,” he replied, fighting the grin that threatened to spill across his whole face.
“It’s perfect,” she responded in all sincerity, “but coming from four months on the trail, not to mention the thirteen years spent in a shack in a third-world country, it’s a bit overwhelming, to say the least.”
He was about to respond when the waiter arrived to take their drink order. Jonathon ordered a bottle of wine.
“I hope you like wine,” Jonathon said. “Pinot Grigio has a subtle sweetness, a hint of fruit and not too dry. I think you’ll like it.”
“That will be fine,” she replied, remembering how she had enjoyed her first glass of wine with Pamela.
The waiter returned with their wine, and after he poured it, Jonathon swirled and tasted it and waited for Amelia’s opinion.
She passed on the swirling and went straight to the sipping. “It’s very nice,” she decided. “I have the
feeling I can trust your taste in about anything,” she added smiling.
“Then let me recommend the salmon, if you like fish. It’s delectable. If you prefer beef, their filet mignon is exquisite.”
“The salmon it is then,” she informed the waiter, appreciating the help with a menu she could barely follow. “I ate so much steak this summer that my heart might go at any second. Better to be safe with the salmon.”
After he ordered the salmon as well, Jonathon returned the conversation to its beginning.
“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten your intriguing conversational lead in,” he admonished. “Just not sure which to ask about first, the trail or the shack. Heads shack, tails trail,” he said flipping an imaginary coin.
“Tails, it is,” Amelia quickly responded. She didn’t feel quite ready to tackle the shack. She found it quite enjoyable, however, reminiscing about her summer at the ranch. They were both so thoroughly engaged that they had barely touched their salads by the time the main course of salmon arrived.
“What amazes me,” Jonathon admitted between bites of salmon, “is how courageous you were to go out there in the first place, without any money and any idea that they’d even hire you. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”
“Actually, I’m more afraid right now in this restaurant than I was during the entire summer!” Amelia confessed, laughing.
“Now that I don’t believe. You’re a natural it would appear in any setting.”
“Anyway, you’re the courageous one. First, I can’t imagine even completing a law degree, but then to have to represent someone in court, well that’s brave.”