by Pamela Tracy
“Give his granddaughter my cell phone number,” Gary suggested. “Russell’s been coming here every morning since he made that trespassing call. She can try here if he doesn’t answer, and if she’s worried, I’ll go check on him.”
Leann frowned. “That’s too easy and makes a whole lot of sense.”
Gary smiled.
Russell rolled his eyes. “You came all the way out here just to tell me my granddaughter’s trying to get ahold of me?”
“I came out here to make sure you were all right.”
Leann wore a look he’d seen before, on the face of a young woman in Manbij. It was just after ISIS had lost its hold on the town. That woman had been hurrying through the streets, her voice frantic as she called a name Gary couldn’t pronounce then and couldn’t remember now. Gary had been told she was searching for her mother.
He didn’t know how that story ended.
“You’re a lucky man, Russell,” Gary said.
“What? I am?”
“You not only have a granddaughter who worries about you but a cop who’s willing to drive all the way to the outskirts of city limits just to make sure you’re okay. I’m a little jealous. After all, for a moment I thought Leann had come all this way to see me.”
“I’d send Oscar to check on you,” Leann scoffed. Something in her face changed, became thoughtful. “Oh, and Russell, would it be all right if the boys and I come up one evening this week, and I get some target practice in?”
“Sure. You want me to help?”
“Anything.” With that, Leann punched a button on her phone and then handed it to Russell. “Talk to Lydia, tell her you’re okay.”
Russell nodded, took the phone and headed for the chair he’d been snoozing in earlier. He sat, said a few words, and then started nodding and uttering, “Uh-huh.”
“Bossy,” Gary whispered to Leann, half joking, half serious.
“Sensible,” Leann responded.
“Tell me your cell number, Officer Bailey, and I’ll call you. That way you can save my number.”
She frowned but did it, adding, “I’ll make sure Russell shares it with his granddaughter.”
She took a few steps toward his construction site. “What are you making?”
“Kennels.”
“You’ve got quite a bit done. I thought they weren’t your dogs?”
“They’re not, but Wilma keeps running off and—”
“You need to stop her. She could get hurt.”
“I know that. Which is why I’m building the kennels,” he said patiently. “Wilma’s the problem child, er, I mean dog. She obeys Max and merely tolerates me.”
Leann looked Gary up and down. He started to laugh, liking the assessment, but then she said, “You need to show Wilma that you’re alpha.”
“I am alpha. You should have seen me order her to hit the dirt and give me thirty, but she played dumb.”
She blushed and wasn’t sure how to answer. “As far as the dog training goes, you’re not in the army now. Dogs are a bit different from soldiers.”
Gary opened his mouth to answer but her cry of “Kommen” silenced him. The next second a bark sounded in the distance.
“I’ve said Kommen to her at least a dozen times,” Gary grumped. “She pretends she doesn’t understand.”
“Probably the accent,” Leann said at the exact moment Wilma burst from between two trees, running with pure abandonment, and skidded to a stop by Leann’s feet. Then, Wilma looked up expectantly, waited for praise. Leann scratched the dog behind the ears and then smiled sweetly at Gary—clearly indicating look-what-I-can-do-and-you-can’t—and innocently watched Russell sitting with the phone pressed against his ear. “Should I go remind him that his granddaughter can’t see him nodding?” Leann wondered out loud and grinned.
Gary wasn’t sure he wanted her to change the subject. He’d not held his own just now, not with the dogs and not with Oscar throwing around wrong assessments, and Gary wanted a redo. But, he had a feeling that he wasn’t quite ready for a redo with Officer Bailey—at least not on the topic of dogs.
“It means he’s listening,” Gary said.
Leann nodded, watched Russell for another few moments and then murmured, “You’re right. Good guys who listen deserve a break.”
“I take it your ex-husband didn’t listen well?” Gary queried.
“I wasn’t thinking of my ex-husband,” she surprised him by answering. He’d have bet money she kept her personal life close to the cuff, not sharing, especially with someone like him: a virtual stranger.
Maybe she felt safer because he was a stranger.
“Who were you thinking of?” he asked.
“I was thinking about my father. The last time I talked to him on the phone, he did all the talking and I just nodded.”
“How long ago was that?”
“The day I showed up back in town and called to see if he’d let me and my sons—his grandsons—stay with them until I could find a job and a place to live.”
“And he did all the talking?”
“I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.” She headed for her patrol vehicle.
“He did all the talking?” Gary followed her, his words urging her to continue. Aunt Bianca had mentioned the disconnect between Leann and her parents. He’d wondered but hadn’t expected to learn the truth.
She opened the door, and with one foot on the floorboard, the other still on the ground, said, “I didn’t do much of the talking. The only words he let me say were ‘Dad, I need help,’ and then he proceeded to tell me that I’d embarrassed my family name and why he and my mother wouldn’t give us a hand. If I hadn’t hung up on him, he might still be telling me. Then he had the audacity, when I became a police officer, to complain about my choice of career.”
She sat, straight and stiff behind the steering wheel, hesitating before closing the door, and added, “But today I wear a badge, I’ve got a college degree, a three-bedroom house, I pay my bills on time and my kids don’t want for anything. Turns out I didn’t need his help.” She looked Gary in the face. “Or anyone’s.”
Gary wanted to tell her that everyone needed a hand, needed someone, but he tended to share her feelings. It wasn’t lost on him, though, that he was here thanks to his aunt’s helping hand.
“Oh,” she said, almost as an afterthought, “I saw your brother looking through one of our cold cases. When I asked him, he said this place might be the last known residence of your father.”
Oscar was already looking into his aunt’s claim. Interesting.
“My father walked out on us when I was ten. Aunt Bianca says this was the last place he was seen.” Gary looked toward the neglected cabin. He’d been in there yesterday, walking over dirt-crusted floorboards and furniture that had been at best secondhand-store rustic.
“My aunt got it in her head that Oscar and I should keep an eye out for any hint of what happened to Berto.”
“Berto?”
“Roberto Guzman, my father.”
“And your aunt thinks something happened here.”
“It’s what she’s saying now.”
“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” With that, she slammed the vehicle door shut, turned the ignition and backed up.
Too late Gary remembered that Aunt Bianca had suggested getting Leann to help. Maybe it was for the better, though, because Leann had opened up just enough to let him know how off-limits she was and that she also had father issues.
Heck, he had father issues too.
He watched her cruiser until it went around the bend and only a wisp of flying dust from her tires evidenced her movement. Then, he checked Russell, who still nodded at whatever his granddaughter was saying.
Gary pulled out his cell phone and punched the number that connected him to his mother. When s
he answered, he found himself smiling. “Hey, Mom, can you email me a photo of Berto?”
It took him a minute to convince his mother to find a picture of Berto, close to the age Gary was now, and message it to him.
“You’re wasting your time,” his mother groused.
“No,” he countered, “Aunt Bianca is. Guess where I am?”
Thirty minutes later, he hung up. His mother had promised she would be by to visit real soon, and that he should take care to avoid spiders.
Once a mother, always a mother, he figured. He’d forgotten to say, “I’m sorry for the misdeeds of my childhood.” Guess he’d do that when she came for her visit.
Russell came to stand next to him. “Yup,” Russell stated matter-of-factly, “Leann’s going to be trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve only been here a few days and she’s been by twice. There’s got to be a connection.”
“She’s been here two days because of you,” Gary corrected. “First that silly trespassing call and now your granddaughter.”
“Fate is a funny thing,” Russell said. “It puts someone in your path right when you need her most.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Russell only smiled. “I was married for more than three decades. Knew I’d found a keeper the moment I met my wife. I miss her every day.”
“I’m not the marrying kind.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Gary laughed. “Really, from who?”
“From Leann. And, you’re the first one I’ve seen her cozy to in a long time.”
“I wouldn’t call it cozying exactly.”
Russell chuckled. “You should take her out, do a comparison, figure out which way it leans. If it’s cozying or harassing.”
“She’s a good cop.”
“She’s a good woman. I’m thinking you’re crazy about women.”
Gary laughed again. “Plus, she’s got two kids. Not something I’m willing to take on.”
“A lot of people say that at first.”
Gary thought about Oscar and Little O. Little O was Oscar’s, no doubt. But, Oscar wasn’t the biological father. Didn’t matter.
Nope, the right woman, a cool kid or kids, and a man might become so settled that he lost himself. Gary knew just how to distance himself from her. “We’re not right for each other. We’d clash. I just know.”
“You sure you have her pegged, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes it’s the one who challenges you that’s the most fun. My wife chased me out of the house once.” Russell laughed, his eyes crinkling on the edges. “I’d taken a huge piece of chocolate cake that she’d baked for a social function. Couldn’t help myself. Darned if she didn’t have a rolling pin as she sped behind me, hot on my heels. I’d give anything for that day to happen again.” He nodded toward the disappearing vehicle. “Best way to test the water is to jump in.”
“I don’t swim.”
Russell scoffed.
“Okay, I do swim. I’m just very cautious about the deep end.” Then, in an effort to get Russell off the subject of Leann, Gary asked, “What did your granddaughter want?”
“She says I’m not allowed to walk down to your place anymore. She’s afraid I’ll fall, not be able to get up and no one will know.”
“She’s got a point.”
Russell didn’t look happy. “I’ve walked these woods since before you were born.”
“Your knees were a lot younger back then.”
Russell looked at his knees. “Stupid things,” he muttered.
“I’ll lend you my quad. If I need it, I’ll drive up and get it.”
“You’d do that?”
“We’re neighbors and comrades. Plus, I make my own schedule.” What Gary didn’t say and would never admit was that right now, he had trouble being alone and the old man’s company far outweighed the time spent fetching the quad.
Russell nodded and said, “Neighbor, you’d better take me home. I need to do a few things.”
Meaning, Gary thought, that it was Russell’s nap time. It took Gary a few minutes to clean up. Then, he opened his truck’s doors, herded the dogs into the extended cab, helped Russell into the passenger seat and ran him home. He walked the old man in. Just as he was about to head back out, his phone pinged, and he brought up his emails.
True to her word, his mother had found a photo of Berto. He stared at the image. He’d seen this photo before. His father leaned against an old red truck, one that belonged to Uncle Ernest. It wasn’t all that different from the blue one Gary drove. Berto had on loose jeans, a black T-shirt and a jean jacket. His hair was dark, and a faint stubble covered his jaw.
“Hey, Russell, do you think I look like him?”
Holding out his phone, he showed the photo. Russell took it, studied the likeness for maybe half a second and said, “Yup. Been a long time since I thought about Berto, even longer since I thought about him being this young, but you are the spittin’ image.”
“You knew my father?”
“Quite well.”
Gary didn’t like what he was feeling. It was anger, like he always felt, but this time a bit muted as if something akin to hope had been mixed in.
“From the time he was a child. He was at the cabin a lot. Your grandparents were still alive, of course. He and my daughter were about the same age and great friends. Odd, really, because your dad was all fixing cars, playing pool with his friends and camping. My daughter was all nail polish, beauty pageants and hair salons. I thought for a while they’d become a couple, but then she took off.”
“I’m sorry. Her leaving had to be hard.”
“It was, but I got two grandchildren out of it. Sometime when you can stay longer, I’ll show you their pictures. My wife and I pretty much raised them.”
Then, Gary returned to his truck and was soon bumping down the dirt road, aiming for town.
He probably said the words no way a dozen times as he drove into town. He couldn’t get the image of his father out of his mind.
After securing the dogs in Aunt Bianca’s backyard, he helped a few guests out to their cars with their luggage, earning himself a little over five dollars in tips—which he put in a tip jar on the front desk. In the kitchen, he watched Aunt Bianca finish dicing potatoes for what appeared to be pot roast. The Crock-Pot stood waiting on the counter.
“Smells good already,” he commented.
“You’re always welcome to stay.”
“I might do that.” Gary helped himself to a glass of milk and then sat at the table watching as she deftly swept the carrots from the counter into the palm of her hand and then dumped them in the Crock-Pot. “I wasn’t expecting you today,” she said. “How’s it going out at the cabin?”
“Good. I’ve got the kennels a third complete. I’ve been researching the best roofing. And, Russell comes by and helps every morning.”
“Helps?” Aunt Bianca laughed.
“He helps himself to my coffee and then helps me out by giving me advice.”
“He probably has good advice.”
“I’m all ears when he talks about preowned tin roofing,” Gary agreed before asking, “Do you know his granddaughter?”
“Lydia might be a few years older than you. She’s nice. She’d have stayed here, lived on Blackgoat land, but her husband wanted the big city.”
“Russell says he helped raise her. How did that happen?”
“It’s quite a story,” Aunt Bianca said. “Russell and his wife had just the one daughter. Well, now that I think about it, she wasn’t Russell’s. She was by his wife’s first husband. Her name was Angela, and she was a beauty. She was your father’s age, and he thought she hung the moon. Your grandparents were still alive, and Berto spent lots of time with them at
the cabin.”
“I wish I could have met them.”
“They were something. I can’t imagine living without plumbing or modern electricity, but they did. Russell’s family, too, for that matter.”
“What did Angela do for fun?”
“She drew. Here, come look.” Aunt Bianca led him into the dining room. He’d noticed the large framed pencil drawing of dense trees amid cloud cover. Now, Aunt Bianca tapped her finger on a signature: Angela Blackgoat.
“She was good.”
“Good enough to be in galleries,” Aunt Bianca agreed, “but that wasn’t her passion. Angela was in every theater production at the high school and even won some local pageants. Her picture is on the wall at the Station Diner. A month after she graduated, she headed off to Hollywood. People talked about it for years. We scanned the television credits looking for her name. It did pop up a few times, but never anything substantial. She played a dead woman on one of the forensics shows and she was once a customer on a fast-food burger commercial.”
“Didn’t Russell say anything? Tell people what shows she was trying out for?” Gary asked. If one of the Guzman clan acted in a show, his mom would have announced it in the local paper.
“No, he only rarely came to town back then. And, I don’t think she actually got any speaking parts. More than a decade after she left, she came home with two kids—a boy and a girl. Lydia and her younger brother, Jace. Angela stayed a short while and then left again, just after her mother died. She convinced Russell the kids would be better off in Sarasota Falls with him, insisting she needed to move on.” Aunt Bianca finished with, “As far as I know, the father wasn’t in the picture. I think Angela struggled quite a bit, didn’t handle being a single mother quite as well as your mom did.”
“My mom had a lot of help.” Gary remembered the days after his father left. His mother refusing to leave her bedroom. His older brother, Oscar, cooking hot dogs or canned spaghetti on the stove. His aunts and uncles coming to the house every day for two weeks. Then, his mother went back to work, and took care of her brood as best she could.
