by Amanda Tru
“I don’t know Jimmy personally,” Geneva said, grateful for any background information that helped understand Allie’s dad. “All I know is that he left when Allie was battling cancer the first time. Allie’s leukemia has relapsed after a remission, but they haven’t heard from Jimmy at all in a very long time.”
Gloria nodded. “I saw Jimmy a few times around town over a year ago, but I can’t say that we actually had a conversation.”
“Hi!” a nice-looking man came up behind Gloria, joining the little congregation around Carter and Geneva. “Everything okay?”
Gloria’s eyes brightened at the sight of the newcomer. “Yes, we’re fine. These people are trying to locate a man I went to high school with.”
“Wait. I know you.” The man stuck his hand out to Carter in greeting. “Dr. Carter Solomon, right? The pediatric oncologist? I’m Dr. Jeff Brock. I attended a medical conference where you presented.”
Carter stood from his seat and shook hands. “That’s why you look familiar. Weren’t you in one of my breakout sessions?”
“Good memory.”
The entire group introduced themselves and shook hands, completely abandoning the food still on the table as they all stood to better converse.
“You’re very clean,” Noah announced suddenly, still studying Carter as if oblivious to the others’ conversation. “You definitely would make a good Viking. Vikings had excellent hygiene. They bathed once a week. Archaeologists have found combs, razors, tweezers, and even ear cleaners made from animal bones and antlers. You’re also tall. But some historians think that maybe only some of the Vikings were really tall, but others weren’t. You’d be one of the more powerful warriors.”
Geneva recognized the little boy’s fixation on Vikings. She also understood the meaning behind his careful study of Carter and the way his gaze swerved away and wouldn’t meet Carter’s when the man looked his way. Sweet Noah was autistic. Geneva had enough experience with her own patients to notice the signs and appreciate Noah for all his specialness without being told an official label.
Unable to resist, Geneva jumped into the little boy’s world. “If he’s a Viking, he’ll need to grow a beard. Then we’ll need to find a way to dye both it and his hair blond. Maybe we could use some strong lye soap like the Vikings did. It’s like a rule that Vikings are blond. If they weren’t that way naturally, then they would bleach their hair. Of course, there are other benefits as well. Just think, Dr. Solomon, if you bleach your hair and beard, you won’t need to worry about head lice!”
Noah looked at Geneva with wide eyes as if realizing he’d just found a kindred spirit. His excitement obvious, he opened his mouth to surely unleash more fascinating Viking lore.
“Now you’ve done it!” Gloria laughed. “We need to get back to our own dinner or we’ll be here all night, and Noah will have Dr. Solomon wielding an axe in no time!”
“Thank you for your help,” Geneva said warmly.
Gloria’s expression fell. “I don’t know that I was any help at all.” She hesitated and then spoke quietly while Carter and Jeff held their own conversation. “I don’t want to dash your hopes, but even if you find Jimmy, I doubt you will convince him to return to his daughter.”
“Why is that?” Geneva asked curiously.
Gloria shrugged and smiled sadly. “Jimmy never graduated high school. He passed Biology, but that wasn’t his only issue. We also had a Social Studies class where we were expected to do volunteer work at a hospital, retirement home, or some other community service venture. I don’t even know exactly what Jimmy was assigned. I just know he never completed it. He never even asked for a different assignment, he just gave up and took off. Jimmy was smart, and I heard he later became an electrician. But he didn’t get a high school diploma. I don’t understand why, but he has never been able to deal with emotionally difficult situations. Unless God has changed him, I doubt he will handle any more than he did in high school.”
Carter and Jeff finished their conversation as well, and the couple returned to their own table with Noah in tow.
Geneva handed Betsy her card with her number and her thanks.
Betsy slid her unoccupied chair back where it belonged. “I’ll let you two finish your meal without my yakking.” She sorrowfully shook her head. “We’ve just got to find a way to get that little girl her daddy back. I’ll do my best to search out any rumors floating around town about him, but I’m afraid no one will know any more than Gloria did.”
Betsy turned back around to survey her domain. The sadness seemed to slip off her shoulders, and her cherry lips widened in a grin as she called, “As I live and breathe, is that Stan and Melinda Somers? You two haven’t darkened my door in a month of Sundays!” With that exuberant greeting to the couple across the room, once again, Betsy took over head waitress duties from the young lady with vibrant green hair who had bustled around tables like a busy bee while Betsy chatted.
“So, Vikings?” Carter asked, his brows pumping over eyes gleaming with amusement. “When did you become an expert in Vikings? Did I miss out on a great class in college?”
Geneva shrugged. “I once dated a Viking.”
With a hand holding a fry halfway to his open mouth, Carter froze and gawked at Geneva in disbelief.
“Well, I guess he wasn’t officially a Viking,” Geneva admitted. “But he did make me watch a history channel show on Vikings. You know how details stick in my head. Comes in handy for prescriptions or when reciting the definition of a particular medical diagnoses. Or when impressing a kid with my vast Viking knowledge.”
“Just one show?” Carter asked, finally making it to his mouth with the fry and turning his amused curiosity directly on Geneva.
With her face completely serious, she answered. “The relationship didn’t last longer than just the one show. I found that I just couldn’t kiss him after he started filing his teeth!”
Carter tipped his head back and let out a full laugh.
The sound sent thrills through Geneva, and she remembered how very much she enjoyed making Carter laugh. With everything they’d dealt with lately, laughter stayed scarce and only now did Geneva get to experience the brief release of tension it provided.
Before Carter recovered, Geneva reached out and snagged another fry from Carter’s plate, idly munching while her thoughts returned to the reason for the tension and spun in circles, trying to identify even a small, usable clue from the past few hours.
“Seriously, Gen?” Carter asked, adopting a dramatic scowl upon regaining his composure. “You order a salad, eat half of it, and then chow down on my fries?”
Geneva’s gaze slid down to Carter’s plate, suddenly realizing she’d absently cleared off more than just two of Carter’s fries in the past few minutes.
Rather than stop and apologize, she deliberately reached out, swiped another fry, and stuck it in the corner of her mouth in a pose reminiscent of Sam with his toothpick “I’m thinking,” she said as if that explained everything.
“No. You’re sulking. Viking joke aside, it’s driving you bonkers that we’ve come to a dead end with no actual leads.”
He was right, but she wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t fail at this task. Her heart constricted at the thought of looking into Allie’s eyes and telling her that one of her last wishes would go unfulfilled and that they couldn’t find her daddy after all.
She looked down at the black screen of her phone, searching for any option to offer a glimmer of hope. An idea flitted through her mind like the nagging reflection of the overhead light on her black phone screen. No matter what angle she set her phone, the light made its reappearance whenever she tipped it one way or the other. Just like the light’s reflection, she tried to dismiss the idea, yet with every slant of her thoughts, that nagging idea made a brief reappearance.
The bell above the door of the diner tinkled, catching Geneva’s attention. She looked up just in time to see Arlene Drew walk through the door. But the woman in Arlene’s sk
in wasn’t the same one Geneva had left less than an hour ago. This Arlene wore a rose-colored dress with long sleeves and a high ruffled collar decorated with a brooch at the neck. While decades out of style, the dress somehow still flattered her. The soft curls of her permed hair looked freshly brushed, and she actually wore makeup. Even from a distance, Geneva could see the pink-tinted triangles carefully painted on her smooth cheeks and the raspberry lipstick tinting her lips.
“Geneva, I think—"
“Shhhh!” Geneva said, cutting off Carter and inclining her head to where Arlene stood in the entrance.
Though Carter sat with his back to the door, he understood and subtly turned to peek over his shoulder at the diner’s new arrival.
Arlene surveyed the diner until her gaze landed on Sam. Her raspberry lips twitched nervously, but she straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and marched directly toward his booth, her heels clicking unsteadily across the tiled floor.
Geneva didn’t breathe, her eyes glued unblinkingly as Arlene approached Sam.
Sam looked up, and Arlene’s mouth relaxed into a gentle smile.
Sam immediately bolted out of his chair, standing at attention and towering over the small woman. His back was to Geneva, making her wish she could see the shock on his weathered face.
“Good evening, Sam Rambo. I hope I’m not too late for pie.”
Arlene’s voice spoke so softly that Geneva could barely hear the words, even holding her breath and straining her ears.
“Not at all, Arlene. You’re right on time.” Sam’s deep voice practically glowed with warmth. “Please have a seat.”
Betsy came by with Carter’s piece of pie, and Geneva lost her focus, allowing Sam and Arlene’s conversation to change to a frequency she could no longer pick up.
Geneva saw the light of recognition when Betsy spotted Arlene. The older woman’s mouth opened to launch one of her exuberant greetings. Then, she suddenly paused, the spark in her eyes softened, and her mouth closed.
“Arlene will take a piece of your lemon meringue pie and a cup of decaf, Betsy,” Geneva said helpfully, hoping the woman would take the hint and leave the couple alone.
“Gotcha,” Betsy replied, shooting Geneva a wink before going to retrieve a slice of pie and a coffee mug, which she then expertly and subtly slid in front of Arlene without causing even a ripple in the couple’s conversation.
Geneva took her fork, reached across the table, and speared a bite of the pie Carter was obviously thoroughly enjoying.
Carter squawked in objection. “Hey, I’ll let you steal my fries, but I draw the line at Betsy’s pie. Get your own!” He blocked her fork with his own, trying to prevent her escape with the bite. After a brief fencing match, Geneva’s fork slid past, and she swiftly popped the bite into her mouth.
“Sam was right. That is good pie,” she pronounced.
Carter scowled at her and hunched around the remainder of his piece, trying to protect it from further assault.
Though Geneva would very much like the freedom to conduct a mission to acquire Carter’s last few pie morsels and openly eavesdrop on the couple across the room, she needed to figure out what to do with her other pressing mission, and she knew that with Betsy, Sam and Arlene were in good hands.
“I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes,” she told Carter, sliding cash onto the table to pay for her meal and standing from the booth. “I need to make a phone call.”
Carter looked at her quizzically but didn’t ask any questions.
The cold air greeted her as she stepped from the diner, and she breathed deeply, letting it soothe her stress and frustration.
She took out her phone, once again looking intently at the blank screen and thinking about what she was about to do. The lights of the diner shown squarely in the reflection on the screen. That nagging idea would give her no peace.
Resolutely, she woke the phone and pressed a few buttons. She put the phone to her ear, listening to it ring as she prepared to ask for something she’d never requested before.
“Hi, Gen,” the voice over the phone came confident and calm as if she already fully knew the situation and what Geneva was about to ask.
“Hi, Sydney.” Geneva took a deep breath. “I need that help about now.”
Carter looked at the screen listing the flights and groaned. “Seriously? This was the only flight we could get from Kentucky to L.A.?”
“No,” Geneva said, not appreciating the “delayed” labels any more than Carter. “But, this was supposedly the fastest way to get there.”
Carter flopped down on one of the plastic airport chairs specially designed for discomfort. “We’re in Seattle. And our flight is delayed. It certainly won’t be the fastest by the time we actually make it.”
“We would have waited another twenty-four hours before we could get a more direct flight,” Geneva explained. “With the latest report on Allie, I figured it was worth two layovers if we could make it to L.A. and find Jimmy sooner.”
Carter sighed. “You’re right, and it isn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you. I’m just tired and frustrated. I really hope Sydney’s intel is correct, and Jimmy is right where he’s supposed to be in L.A. With our luck, we’ll get there only to find that Jimmy has moved to Seattle!”
Geneva sank into the chair beside Carter, her head pounding. She couldn’t blame Carter. Like him, she was also past the limit on exhaustion and frustration. After staying the night at a small hotel in Charula, they had driven back to Louisville. On the way, Carter had called to check in on Allie.
Geneva had listened as Carter requested the nurse read to him Allie’s numbers and respond to her direct questions. After hearing only one side of the report, Geneva knew the news wasn’t good. Allie was failing fast. Time was running short.
With renewed urgency, Carter took over driving, and Geneva booked their flights to L.A. based on the information Sydney had provided.
Geneva sighed and reached back to rub the tight muscles in her neck. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to know if Jimmy is still in L.A. or not. It’s entirely possible that he left. Maybe we will need to make another trip back here to Seattle. Sydney conducted a search, but she couldn’t use all of her resources in a more in-depth inquiry on such short notice and without attracting red flags. Jimmy doesn’t want to be found, which adds to the difficulty of getting his current location.”
“What do you mean?” Carter asked, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he want to be found?”
“The man hasn’t paid child support in over two years. Sydney said he was leaving very little footprint. She said someone who doesn’t use social media accounts in this day and age usually has a reason. Jimmy keeps his head down and isn’t in criminal trouble, but Sydney guesses he doesn’t want the consequences of back child support catching up to him.”
“So, what made her think that she found his location in L.A.?”
Geneva closed her eyes, her mind going back to the matter-of-fact call with Sydney. While asking for help locating Jimmy seemed monumental to Geneva, Sydney took it as a matter of course. She simply asked a few short questions, gathered the information she needed, and said she’d call back in five minutes.
True to her word, soon after Geneva and Carter left the diner to drive through town looking for a hotel, Geneva’s phone rang. Though Sydney provided the address of Jimmy’s California employer, she could not offer any assurance that they could actually find Jimmy there.
Sydney obviously felt bad about not offering more information. As if afraid of being overheard, Sydney had tersely explained, “If circumstances were different, I’d pull out all the stops and get satellite confirmation of Jimmy Drew’s physical location, but I can’t really bend the rules and call in favors at the moment. I’m sorry, Gen.”
“You gave me a lead, Sydney, which is more than I had five minutes ago. Thanks for your help, and don’t feel bad. I can take it from here.”
However, somewhere in the last
few hours, exhaustion caught up with her, and her earlier confidence took a skydive at about five thousand feet up, abandoning her to the mercy of sheer exhaustion and a mind that couldn’t process Allie’s hopeless situation. With their flight delayed and Carter voicing her secret fear that Sydney’s lead was really just a continuation of a wild goose chase, Geneva’s practiced, professional control began to slip.
“Geneva?” Carter’s voice brought her back to realize she’d never answered his question.
“Sorry.” Geneva shook her head to clear it and continued her report. “The last employment record Sydney could find for Jimmy was a construction company in L.A. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t somewhere else by now. Sometimes contract workers don’t show up in the systems right away. Sydney couldn’t find a residential address, and with no social media info to work with, she thought the construction company in L.A. was likely the best lead we could get.”
Geneva felt Carter’s gaze on her, and it unsettled her. It felt too intent, almost as if he could see right through her calm façade to the turmoil she worked so hard to keep hidden. Her lip trembled rebelliously, and she impatiently bit it to keep it in place. Battling the discomfort, she rummaged through her carry-on backpack, pretending to search for some gum but really seeking any way to avoid meeting Carter’s intent stare and distract herself from the emotion threatening to boil over.
More than gum, what she really longed for was her white doctor’s jacket. She recognized the desire as ridiculous, but if she could just put it on, she knew it would add a layer between her and the world. She could function and think. She could pack all of her emotions beneath it and play the role of Dr. Geneva Hutchins. But she hadn’t thought to make sure her jacket was packed. In fact, she remembered taking it off while visiting Allie before catching the plane to Kentucky, and she suspected it had stayed at Kara’s. Now she longed for it the way a child longs for her favorite teddy, and without its comfort, she felt vulnerable and defenseless against the events and emotions too big for her.