by Frank Perdue
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
They shared a ride to the airport the next morning. They weren’t together, they were just there at the same time. Joanna had served her purpose and more. He had no more questions. There were no more answers. It had all been laid out for him. Now there was one more stop he had to make. One more person to call on. So he would go his way, and finish the odyssey that had begun on the day he was born.
He left her standing in the rain. It hardly ever rains in San Diego. It must have been symbolic. He didn’t want to go, but there was nothing left to say. They had both tried to bridge the gap between them, and nothing seemed to work. They had been together less than two weeks. It was left unsaid that he wasn’t Jake. Never would be. But he felt it, and he knew he had to let go. It hurt so much. He guessed that she would head back to San Francisco, and try to pick up the pieces of a life that was shattered that January day.
She watched as he walked across the tarmac, and climbed the stairs to the plane. Her eyes became misty, but he didn’t see. he turned to wave, but she was walking away, her coat hood pulled up over her hair that had been so shiny with the glistening moisture. He went inside.
His jet made three stops before reaching Chicago. He transferred to a smaller prop job for the last leg into Buffalo. He rented still another car, and drove northeast into Vermont.
It was late evening when he finally found the small hamlet of West Perris. It was too late to make any inquiries that night, so he began looking for a hotel or motel. There were none. In fact the whole town consisted of a general store, and a short main street with a few businesses. There were older homes surrounding the stores on all sides. There wasn’t even a gas station.
He had to find a place to sleep. He was beat. He headed southeast on one of the highways leading out of town. After about an hour he saw a motel sign. The place consisted of a few cabins and a small office.
He found himself wishing that Joanna had made the trip with him. He missed her already. Somehow he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He kicked himself for leaving her that way. If he had asked, maybe she would have come with him. But he didn’t give her the chance. It had seemed that she was anxious to get on with her life, to get back to San Francisco and family. If he had misread her, she didn’t set him straight.
He decided to call Joanna’s number. After registering, he asked the attendant, a small old woman with a ready smile, if he could use the office phone. She told him to go ahead. The charges would be placed on his bill. It was a woman’s voice on the other end of the line, but not Joanna’s.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“Hello. Is this Joanna Thomas’ residence?”
“Yes, I’m her Mother. Who’s calling please?”
“My name is Ted Warner. Is your daughter home?” He hoped she had returned from San Diego, but she hadn’t been sure of her connections.
“No. She called me from San Diego and said she’d be back some time tonight, but she didn’t know how late she’d be.” She had a gentle voice, and Ted liked her immediately. “She said she would get Anna Heis to pick her up at the airport.” she continued. “Do you know Anna, Mister Warner?”
He could probably tell her some things she didn’t know about Anna Heis. But he just answered “No, but Joanna has told me about her.” He was remembering their conversation about how she and Jake had met.
“Would you give her my phone number when you see her, or in the morning would be fine, if it’s too late when she gets in.”
“Why I’d be glad to.” And he gave her the number. He added the address as an afterthought.
“Vermont!. That’s a long way from San Francisco. How do you happen to know my daughter?” Beulah Thomas was puzzled.
“It’s a long story, Missus Thomas. I’m sure Joanna will fill you in.” He was surprised that Joanna hadn’t mentioned him.
“Well if you say so young man. I hope she comes home soon. I haven’t seen her in a few days. I don’t know why she had to run off to San Diego.”
“Yes. You should have a lot to talk about when you see each other.” You don’t know the half of it, he thought.
When he finally fell into bed, he was asleep almost immediately. There were no dreams that night. When he awoke there was bright sunlight streaming through the front room curtain. That’s strange, he thought, and looked at his watch. It read twelve forty-five. He was sure that his window faced west. Then he remembered that his watch was still set on Pacific time. It was really almost four in the afternoon! He’d been more tired than he thought.
He showered and shaved, then dressed and headed for the motel office. He wanted to find out if he had any calls, and he was starved. He hadn’t stopped to eat, his mind was so preoccupied. His last meal had been on the plane, before Chicago.
The same kindly old lady was manning the desk. She said no, there were no calls. Ted felt a letdown, but he didn’t blame Joanna. He hadn’t been able to tell her how he really felt. He had taken his cue from her. And he read that she wanted to end it before either of them got hurt. But it was too late. He was already involved emotionally to the point of no return.
“Why don’t you just go into our dining room, and let us fix you a nice hot meal, young man?”
Ted realized the woman was speaking to him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
The woman repeated herself, and pointed in the direction of a door. He hadn’t realized the night before that the place had a restaurant.
“You just pick any table you want. We’ll bring you some coffee and fresh water while you decide what you’ll have.”
When he went into the dining room he realized that he was the only one in the whole place. Then it dawned on him that this was ski country, and there was very little snow. When she brought his coffee and water he asked the woman where all the people were.
“Oh, it’s been nearly a month since we’ve had a good snowfall. All the ski areas in the Greens are closed. They won’t open again until next Fall.” It turned out that the woman he had met, and her husband were running the whole operation. They were starved for company. They told him the life story of the place while he tried to eat the feast they had placed before him. The Green Mountains were just across the highway.
He hadn’t been able to appreciate it the night before. It was a beautiful setting.
He finally broke away at about five-thirty. It was too late to find out anything in West Perris. He was sure that they rolled up the streets early in a town that small. Everybody was probably home eating dinner already. He decided to drive south toward Manchester, and see part of the country. What he had seen so far was really impressive. He had never been to New England before. It was breathtaking. He made a mental note to buy some maple syrup before he left. He wouldn’t eat it, just place it on a shelf in his apartment. It would remind him of this quiet picturesque countryside. He thought how amazing it is that everywhere he had ever been was so different. Of course it’s really the people that make a place memorable. For that reason, Ted had never been anywhere that he didn’t like.
When he returned to the motel he checked for messages. There was nothing. He turned in early after leaving a call with the desk for eight o’clock. It took awhile to get to sleep, because his head was full of Joanna. He knew it was futile. Still he was awake for a few hours. The last time he could remember looking at his watch, it was just after midnight. He must have dropped off right after that.
The drive to West Perris went fairly fast. The roads were more narrow than he was used to, but traffic was light. He was again struck by the beauty of the area. One of the buildings adjacent to the General Store had a sign that proclaimed County Office. Ted decided that was as good a place as any to start. The lady inside was very helpful. She searched her records, found what she was looking for, and drew a map to guide him. He was full of anticipation as he drove up an even narrower lane to the old cemetery.
There were no parking lots. He stopped on pavement, and pulled as far to the right a
s he could. It left just enough room for cars to go by, one at a time. Ted didn’t think there would be many vehicles trying to pass. There was no need to lock the rental car.
There was a light breeze, and that was the only sound he heard as he made his way to what appeared to be the area marked on his map.
He was immediately struck by the feeling that he had been transported to another time. He was the only living breathing soul there. The grave markers were all made of a material that appeared to be slate. They stretched up a hill, across a path, and then spread out to cover an area of about three or four acres. Each marker was tilted at a different angle, as if a fierce tornado had tried to rip them out of the ground, but the spirits of those buried there fought back, and won. It was in stark contrast to the military cemeteries one sees, where all the monuments are alike, and arranged neatly in a row. The stones in this old cemetery grew out of grass that needed to be mowed.
As Ted probed for the name Gentry, he noticed that most of the inscriptions were dated in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, many during and shortly after the Civil War. They didn’t have anything like that out west, he thought.
He was searching in a valley near the edge of the property that was guarded by huge maples, their branches and leaves providing shade from the Sun. It was a nice setting, but Ted surmised that, with high ground on three sides, it might flood in a heavy rainstorm. And that would be sad.
“Damn, there it is!” Ted blurted, aloud. He was proud of himself for finding the needle in the haystack. Then, lowering his voice so as to not disturb the dead, he whispered “Jacob Gentry.” There were no dates, just years, “1856-1945”.
As he stood there in that lonely place, with the thin slab tilted up in front of him, he had visions of a small, frightened child of nine, traveling alone, not knowing where, but headed north. It must have seemed that this was not his country, and these were not his people.
The black child was mercifully taken in by some fair-skinned family. He couldn’t have even known he was in Vermont at first. Ted knew not who these people were. But the boy might have died were it not for their kindness. The great-grandson blessed them silently.
He looked back at the dates on the stone. “I only missed you by twenty-five years, Sir.” Tears suddenly streamed from his eyes. He felt a great loss. He had so many questions that would never be answered.
Ted felt a sense of pride in who he was, now. He was proud of his great-grandfather, and all that he had accomplished despite the restrictions that had been placed on him because of the color of his skin. Ted couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been. The boy had been discouraged from learning to read and write. He had been looked upon with disgust through no fault of his own. He had been purposely denied a feeling of self-worth. And the chief contributor to all this had been Jacob Gentry’s own biological father.
But Jacob had had the last laugh. He outlived many of his detractors, and he became a respected member of his community, overcoming prejudices that would devastate many whites. That’s why Ted was proud.
He kneeled in front of the tombstone, and with his hands, pulled the high grass away from the memorial. Then he leaned forward and kissed the cold slab. Before he left the cemetery, Ted noted the other names of family members who were buried in the same section. He knew that some relatives were still in the area. He intended to find them on his next trip, but there was no time now.
It was dark when Ted returned to the motel. He wondered if there were any messages, so he stopped by the office before making his way to his cabin. He would need a good night’s sleep before heading back to the real world, and his next assignment.
“No. No messages.: The kindly old desk clerk said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
Was she always this happy? he wondered.
When he neared his cabin, he could see that the light was on. “I don’t remember leaving any lights on,” he muttered. As he fumbled for his key the door opened. Joanna graced the doorway, as if in testament to the truth that wishes do come true.
“I thought I’d lost you. I was so s-stupid!” He could only stammer.
He wanted to ask how she found him, but she quickly moved to him and placed her right index finger on his lips, mouthing “Shhh. Good evening darling, Joseph. Do you mind if I call you that? Did you have a nice day?” She smiled, and giving him no chance at all to answer, she cradled his head in her hands, and kissed him hard, her lips parting.
By the time the kiss ended, he had forgotten the questions. There would be plenty of time tomorrow.
The end of a novel by
Frank A. Perdue
