by Amanda Tru
Carter’s breath whooshed out in frustration, but his hands retained their death grip on the wheel. “You know what? I’m sorry if I didn’t express myself very well four years ago. What I meant at the time is that you didn’t match who I wanted to be with romantically in the long term. That didn’t mean I couldn’t like you or care for you in any other way.”
“So, you don’t need to like your friends in order to be friends?”
“There are certain, specific things about all of my friends that I don’t like,” Carter said hesitantly, seeming to not like how that sounded aloud.
“No, thank you.” Geneva kept her tone tight and unemotional, divorcing her verbal response from the anger and hurt she felt. “If you can’t like who I am, then I don’t want to be your friend. Some women don’t know they’re liked and cared for. Other women know they aren’t liked and cared for. I’m in the latter category.”
Carter sighed, “I hurt you. I get it. I just couldn’t—”
“No need to apologize.” She cut him off quickly, continuing to draw on all her professional reserve to respond as if Carter just admitted he’d made a mistake on a simple report. “I appreciate your honesty. But please don’t offer platitudes or say we can just be friends. It is what it is. I don’t want the friendship of someone who doesn’t like me. We can respect each other professionally and be colleagues. We can work together and find Allie’s dad. How about this? I will try to refrain from tossing bitter barbs in your direction if you can refrain from acting like we’re friends or pretending you like me when you don’t.”
Carter watched the road, making the turn onto Main Street. He never responded to her proposition, and she doubted he ever would. Like Sam waiting for Arlene, she could wait five to six years, and Carter still wouldn’t change to give her anything but a bunch of bipolar mixed signals. One minute he hated her, the next he spun this romantic flirting tension around her, and still the next, he just wanted to be friends. Deep down, she knew he would never be able to give her the one signal she most desired—one that meant a forever of loving her for who she was.
And really, she couldn’t blame him. Half the time, she didn’t even know who she was, let alone find herself lovable. Yet, she couldn’t help but hope that someday a man who saw the world from a different perspective might deem her worthy of waiting five to six years for her “yes” to sharing some pie.
Geneva knocked firmly on the solid oak door a second time, unwilling to give up when her first knock met only silence.
“Maybe she isn’t home,” Carter finally ventured the obvious thought aloud.
“She’s home,” Geneva whispered back. “Remember? Sam said she only leaves the house for groceries and church.”
Movement at the window to the left of the door caught Geneva’s eye, and she saw the curtain wave aside a couple of inches. A half face with a curious eye peeked out at her, and Geneva met the gaze directly before it pulled back inside, and the curtain swung shut.
When the door still remained unopened, Geneva lifted her hand to knock a third time, but Carter stepped up and pounded himself, the sound he created making Geneva’s previous attempts seem like the feeble scratching of a caged bird.
“Mrs. Drew, please open up,” Carter called. “We’d like to speak to you about your grandson!”
The breathless silence lasted a full five seconds. Then a voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Jimmy isn’t here. Go away!”
Carter looked at Geneva, seeming at a loss.
“We can’t just give up!” she whispered.
Carter tried again. “Mrs. Drew, I promise you we aren’t trying to sell you anything or get Jimmy in trouble. We need to locate him so we can help.”
“Don’t know where he is,” came the woman’s immediate response. “Now, if you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”
Carter sighed and shrugged in defeat before turning back to the car.
“Mrs. Drew, we know your great-granddaughter,” Geneva called desperately. “She’s the reason we’re here. We’re trying to find Jimmy for Allie.”
Carter reached out and took Geneva’s hand, urging her back to the car. With silence the only response to her final plea, Geneva imagined the old woman’s gnarled fingers busy dialing the police. Feeling like a failure, Geneva turned to follow Carter.
“My great-granddaughter?”
The tremulous question instantly froze Geneva. She swung back around and saw the front door open just enough for a small woman to peek her head out.
“You know Allie?”
Geneva nodded vigorously. “Yes, we do! She’s very ill and wants to see her dad.”
The door opened wider. “Come on in and tell me about Allie.”
Fearing the old woman might change her mind and slam the door before she made it through, Geneva hurried inside. Mrs. Drew shut the door after Carter and indicated that they should take seats in the living room.
Geneva scanned the room quickly, seeing that it was meticulously clean and yet very cluttered with knickknacks on every surface and in every corner. Geneva breathed deeply, appreciating the smell of old everything mixed with a touch of cinnamon and… bacon? It was the aroma of something warm and comforting, immediately reminding Geneva of her own grandmother and the instant love and comfort that wrapped around her like a blanket every time she entered Grandma’s house for as long back as Geneva’s memories reached.
The furniture and décor in the room belonged to a long-past era. Geneva perched on the orange and brown floral couch that had likely seen its prime more than forty years ago. Though worn, it still felt remarkably comfortable. Geneva looked around the room with great interest, thinking she could spend a few hours perusing the variety of vases, figurines, and eclectic antiques.
And clocks. Apparently, Mrs. Drew was an avid collector of clocks. Almost every surface in the room boasted some unusual, ticking apparatus with moving hands turned to the same exact minute.
No wonder she never leaves the house! Dusting all of those knickknacks and keeping each clock perfectly timed must require a full-time job!
“Can I fix you some tea? I have some coffee, too,” Mrs. Drew asked, her sweet, friendly tone in stark contrast to their earlier reception.
Geneva wet her lips nervously, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t want to offend their hostess and risk turning her back into the formidable sentry who threatened them with law enforcement. However, the steadily moving hands of the clocks and the incessant ticking sound that filled the room reminded Geneva of the urgency of their task.
They needed to find Allie’s father, and this woman was their only lead. Unfortunately, it had taken them this long just to find her. Even more concerning, they really didn’t yet possess any more information than when they’d left Crossroads.
Geneva turned and spoke professionally and to the point. “Thank you, Mrs. Drew, but we don’t want to take more of your time than we must. What we really need is to locate Jimmy. His daughter, Allie, needs him.”
“Please, call me Arlene,” the old woman said, settling herself into a large brown recliner across from Geneva. “The only person who ever called me Mrs. Drew was my good-for-nothing husband, God rest his soul. I didn’t like it then, and I sure don’t like it now. I’m not sure I can help you. I haven’t seen or heard from Jimmy in over a year. I never could make that boy stay in one place. He’s got a gypsy spirit, and not in a good way.”
Geneva studied Arlene. She was a small woman, but plump and soft everywhere a grandma should be. Her hair was cut short, and the light, bottled-blonde hair looked like her few ventures outside the house probably included a trip to a beautician for a permanent. Her plump cheeks sagged with age, but the pale skin looked soft and smooth. Wrinkles adorned the corners of her mouth and her bright, blue eyes. All in all, she presented the ideal picture of everything a grandma should be, except a strong, tense sadness seemed to pull all of her features down and steal away the comfort her presence might usually ins
till in others.
“Can you tell us anything about Jimmy or where he might have headed?” Carter said from where he perched on the couch beside Geneva. “We need to find him right away.”
“Right now, we have nothing,” Geneva explained. “And we’re desperate. We flew from Brighton Falls here to Kentucky yesterday because Charula was the last place we knew for sure Jimmy lived. We ended up getting a bit lost, and the strangest thing happened. The address we followed was actually the address for the cemetery!”
A spark lit in Arlene’s dull gray eyes and danced as if secretly amused. “That isn’t strange at all. If you were searching for Jim Drew in Charula, Kentucky, don’t you think you’d find the man’s current address? After Jim passed away and left me with a passel of bills—the good-for-nothin’ spendthrift—I started putting his new address on all of the bills and in every call I received. If they really wanted to find my husband, then they were welcome to pay him a visit in the graveyard!”
Geneva tried valiantly to control a sudden fit of the giggles at the older woman’s antics. She said everything in a dry voice, devoid of any dramatics, and the insults toward her husband were spoken in the same level, unexpressive voice as if part of her conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Geneva managed seriously. “I imagine that must have been rough to lose your husband and then deal with all of that.”
Mrs. Drew shrugged, the folds of her face shifting slightly downward. “I knew Jim was a dreamer when I married him. He always had plans—such big plans. He’d spin a yarn so big you could crochet it into an afghan to cover this house. He was always working on his next make-it-rich-quick scheme. Nothing illegal, of course. My Jim was a man of integrity—bless him. But dreams don’t pay the bills. I had nothing the day I married him, and I had less than nothing the day he passed away. He didn’t even leave me with children to take care of me in my old age. The only thing I have is this house and only because I dug in my heels and refused to leave when he wanted to sell and invest in a pig farm. A heart attack, they told me. Jim always did like his bacon. I told him it would kill him, but he didn’t listen to me. Sure enough, the day he died, he got up, ate his bacon, and promptly died on me right there in the kitchen. I count my blessings that I said no to the pig farm. I would have lost him ten years earlier with more bacon.”
Carter cleared his throat, making Geneva suspect he was trying valiantly to mask his own laughter. “You didn’t have children?” he asked gently. “But isn’t Jimmy your grandson?”
Mrs. Drew winced and let the ticking clocks fill the silence for several seconds. “Yes, he is, for as much good as that does me. Jim and I only had one daughter, Tina. The good Lord didn’t bless us with any more than her, and oh how Jim spoiled her! I suppose I did as well, but she was a daddy’s girl. Jim bent over backward to grant every wish that ever passed through her selfish head. Tina was just eighteen when she gave birth to Jimmy. She promptly dropped him off here, told us his name was Jimmy, after her daddy, and took off. I guess she knew we’d take care of him, and, of course, we did. We never knew who Jimmy’s daddy was. Tina came around every once in a while loaded down with a bag of gifts for Jimmy that would give Santa Claus a run for his money. Then, after a few days, she’d take off again. Tina stopped coming when Jimmy was six. The police told us she was killed in a car accident. She wasn’t the one driving, but everyone had been drinking. Tina knew better than to drink. She knew better than to get in the car with someone who’d been drinking. But then again, she knew better than to abandon her baby. With every decision she made, she knew better, and yet she did it anyway. After all that, it’s hard to call that kind of thing ‘an accident.’”
“Oh my!” Geneva murmured sympathetically. “I had no idea. That must have been so difficult for you, and for Jimmy as well. I didn’t realize any of his background, but that gives a little insight into his behavior toward his own family.”
“Jimmy—poor boy—was a lot like my Jimmy. He was always a dreamer and a gypsy, just like his grandpa and his mama as well, I suppose. I used to hear from Jimmy regular-like. He got married, and I thought that young lady was the best thing that ever happened to him. Then they had little Allie, and she was the cutest little thing. They brought her here once as a baby, and I got to hold her. A couple years ago, Jimmy showed up here and said Allie was sick. He said he was trying to earn money to help her. But I knew better.”
Arlene stopped talking and stared intently at a small antique clock sitting on the coffee table. “I saw the guilt in his eyes,” she finally continued. “Jimmy was never a strong boy, and I knew he’d taken off and left little Allie just like his mama had left him. I tried to get him to go back, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even give me an address or a number where I could send a card or call. I don’t think he wanted me to talk to his wife and hear all about what kind of poor excuse for a husband and father he’d become. After a few months, he took off again. He said his ship had come in. Said he got a line on a good job that would take care of all of his problems. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”
“You don’t know where he was headed at all?” Carter asked, his face registering shock.
Mrs. Drew shrugged. “California, I suppose. Isn’t that where they all want to go to strike it rich?”
California was a big place. Without any other details, it would be nearly impossible to find him. Yet they’d come too far to finish at a dead end!
“Where did Jimmy work while he was in town here?” Carter asked. “Is it possible he left them a forwarding address?”
Arlene snorted. “No. He worked for a contractor who goes to my church. His name is Bill Moire. Jimmy just didn’t show up for work one day. Bill called and asked me about it, but Jimmy was already gone. Just skipped town. Put me in a fine kettle of fish. Bill Moire is a deacon at church and gave Jimmy a job out of the goodness of his heart. Then Jimmy behaved like that—the wandering scamp.”
Geneva didn’t know what to say. It felt as if a dense layer of depressing fog descended into the room, and she felt helpless to stop it or find a way through such an impossible situation. This poor old woman had no one. Everyone she’d ever loved had left her. No wonder she felt so conflicted. One second she sang the praises of her loved ones, and the next, she acted as if she despised them. With sudden insight, she recognized the truth behind Arlene’s attitude.
Grief.
Even after all this time, she still deeply grieved the loss of her husband, her only daughter, and now her grandson. She coped by flinging around insults. After all, it couldn’t hurt as bad to lose someone you felt angry at. All of the insults and anger comprised her defense mechanism, and when that slipped, you could glimpse the truth of her deep love for her dear ones.
The sound of the clocks ticking grew oppressive, and Geneva couldn’t think of a way out. Not only could she not help Mrs. Drew find a way out of her grief, but she also found herself lost in her search for Allie’s dad. Without a clue or any whisper of information, what was she supposed to do now?
The clocks declared the hour was getting late. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she believed Arlene to be telling the truth. The lonely grandma had no idea where Jimmy had landed, and nothing she could do could help them.
“You said Allie was sick?” Mrs. Drew asked hesitantly, her voice barely audible over the ticking. “I knew she was sick a while ago, but I hadn’t heard any news in so very long.”
“Allie has a very aggressive cancer,” Carter replied quietly but in his straightforward manner. Mrs. Drew turned all of her attention to his words. “She went into remission after her initial bout, but it came back about six months ago. All the tests indicate Allie won’t make a recovery this time, and she doesn’t have much time left.”
“That’s why we’re trying to find Jimmy,” Geneva explained, the hopelessness creeping through her voice.
Tears slipped from Mrs. Drew’s eyes, and she reached for the tissue box parked on an end table beside her chair. “
You mean that all this time, Jimmy hasn’t contacted his little girl either?”
Geneva shook her head. “No. Kara tried to find him. Now Allie is asking to see him before she passes, and we don’t know where to go.”
Mrs. Drew shut her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sure you must think the worst of my grandson, and he deserves every bit of it. But he adored that little girl. When he came here, he was a broken man. I don’t think he could watch her suffer, yet the guilt of leaving her tore him up so bad he couldn’t get out of bed some days. He wouldn’t talk to me, but I know him. He’s not made of strong stuff. He’s got too much of the dreamer in him. When the real world comes knocking, he takes off and leaves the rest of us to deal with the ugly things he can’t handle.”
“Let me give you my phone number, Mrs. Drew,” Geneva said, taking a card out of her purse and writing her cell phone number on the back. “If you think of any other clues Jimmy might have mentioned about where he was going, please give me a call.”
Arlene accepted the card and looked at it. “You’re a doctor?”
Geneva nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Both of us are doctors. Allie’s doctors.”
Arlene looked hesitantly back at Geneva. “Do you think… Do you have an address where I could send something to Allie? Or does that fall under all that privacy nonsense?” She stood up and went to a box in the corner. She took out a large stack of envelopes and brought them back to the coffee table.
Arlene nodded to the stack. “I thought a little girl would probably like to get mail, so over the years I’ve written Allie a lot of cards, but I never had an address to send them to her. She has a whole passel of mail from her great-grandma that I’d sure like to get to her.”
Geneva’s heart broke even more, and she felt a new surge of anger toward Jimmy. His selfish actions had robbed his grandmother of knowing her only great-grandchild and prevented his daughter from knowing that someone special loved her dearly.