by Patricia Fry
“Even a husband or wife?” Colbi grumbled. “I used to let you read my articles before they were ready to turn into the newspaper editor.”
“Yeah, but that’s a whole different kind of writing,” Damon insisted. “We have to write our news stories on the fly—our first draft is often the final draft. A novel needs a lot of massaging before it’s ready for readers. It can take months.”
“Or years,” Colbi said. “I read about a woman who’s been working on her memoirs for thirty years and it’s still not finished.”
Bud chuckled. “Maybe she’s waiting to see how it ends.”
Savannah smirked playfully at Bud, then asked, “What kind of novel is it, Damon—historical, romance, science fiction…?”
He took a swig of iced tea and shook his head. “No. It’s a crime story—sort of a mystery crime story.”
“Hey,” Craig said, smiling broadly, “who’s your star detective?”
Damon gave Craig a sideways glance and stammered, “Well… um… she’s… ”
“She?” Craig exclaimed. “A woman?”
“Yeah, that’s the trend now in crime fiction.”
“Colbi, you’d better read it before it goes to print,” Margaret said. “You want to make sure he portrays her in the right light.”
Meanwhile, Craig shook his head in disbelief and muttered, “A woman detective. If that don’t beat all. And here he has a real detective in the family as a perfect model.”
“Oh, can it, Craig,” Iris nagged good-naturedly. “Let him write his story.”
“Yeah,” Margaret said, laughing, “no wonder authors don’t like to show their manuscripts to anyone—too many critics out there.” She spoke more sharply. “But, Vannie, if you plan to quote me in Rags’s memoirs, you’d darn well better let me see it before you publish it.”
Once the laughter and comments had died down, Colbi leaned toward Margaret. “Maggie, I’m afraid we’re all a part of Rags’s story. Get ready to sign some autographs.”
“Yes,” Savannah said, punching the air with her fist, “that’s the spirit.”
Colbi chuckled. She looked at Savannah, then Michael. “So are you ready for your big adventure?”
“Yup.” Michael said. “By this time next Sunday, while you’re all having lunch together, we’ll be settled in our new temporary home in Colorado.”
“…spending our days in search of Michael’s father,” Savannah added.
“Alleged father,” Michael corrected.
“Alleged?” Max questioned. “You still aren’t convinced that he’s your father?”
“Hey, I wasn’t there at the time. How would I know—I mean, how would I know for sure? First I grow up an only child, being told that Randall Ivey was my father. Then, when I thought I knew everything I needed to know about myself, I learn that I have a brother—a twin brother—who was adopted out to another family at birth over thirty years before.”
Savannah nodded and bounced a bit in her chair. “Then we happen across some random relatives in Connecticut with quite a different story about Michael’s and Keith’s beginnings.”
“Yeah,” Michael said, “indicating that one of the wealthy Hanson brothers is our father.”
Savannah threw her hands into the air dramatically. “But which one? Scott was engaged to their mother, but he supposedly died before they could marry. Brandt claimed that he also dated her and that he was the father.”
“Uh-huh,” Michael agreed, “only to change his mind on his deathbed and tell us that it was actually Scott.”
“Yeah, Scott,” Savannah added, “who, incidentally, isn’t dead after all!”
When he saw that he still had everyone’s attention, Michael explained, “But there’s no proof and we don’t even know where this guy is.”
“Which is why you’re going to Colorado in the first place, right?” Margaret asked.
Michael nodded. “Yeah. So when we get back, we may know something more about my crazy family tree.” He shrugged. “…or not.”
Savannah put her arm across her husband’s shoulders and squeezed. “Either way, it could be quite an adventure. The notes and letters Brandt Hanson gave the guys before he died indicate that Scott,” she glanced around at the others, “the guy who may be the father, has headed for the hills again to live like some sort of mountain man and may be hard or impossible to track.”
“Doesn’t he want to meet his sons?” Iris asked quietly.
Michael raised his eyebrows. “Good question. It doesn’t appear to me that he does. However, Brandt told us, before he died, that Scott said if we can find him, he’ll be glad to see us. But it doesn’t sound like he’s going to make it easy.”
Craig shook his head. “Seems like a strange way to live.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “I think the trauma he suffered in the near-drowning, and maybe the fact that he lived with that old recluse for a while, has done some damage to his brain or his way of viewing life.”
“And the fact that he had amnesia,” Bud said. “That’s gotta cause some disconnects in a person’s brain, wouldn’t you think so?”
Michael sighed deeply. “Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Keep us updated,” Iris said.
“We will,” Savannah promised. “I’ll text and email all of you when I can. But in case it’s hard to get a signal or something, how about if my aunt is our main pipeline? I’ll keep her apprised of the situation as much as I’m able. Would you spread the word to the others, Auntie?”
“Sure,” Margaret agreed. She then addressed Bud. “So you’ll be our go-to vet while Michael’s gone?”
Bud nodded. “Yup. I’m it—me and Pamela.” He looked sideways at her. “So Maggie, tell your cats to stay healthy until Dr. Mike returns, will you? I sure hope we won’t be overwhelmed with any difficult cases or mysterious maladies.”
When the conversation around the table seemed to slow, Colbi said, “Hey, I made cookies—macaroons and some of those ginger cookies from Maggie’s recipe. Anyone interested?”
“Me!” Lily called out. “I want a cookie!”
“Of course you do, you little cookie monster,” Michael teased.
****
The following morning Savannah opened the door to their longtime housekeeper. After greeting one another, Helena motioned toward the family standing with her. “You remember my niece, Maria, and her husband, Emilio.”
“Yes,” Savannah said, warmly shaking hands with each of them.
Helena continued, “These are their children, Gabe and Rita. He’s twelve now and she’s eight.”
“Hey, there they are,” Michael said to their guests, upon entering the room. “Are you ready for a new experience?” When no one responded, he explained, “…a new home—living in a new home?”
The children and their parents all smiled and nodded. Maria said, “We’re grateful for the opportunity and the work.”
“Well, we appreciate you taking care of things while we’re gone,” Michael said. “I hope you’ll enjoy being here as much as we love living here.”
“I’m sure we will,” Maria said.
Her husband smiled and nodded.
Once the Iveys had given the Ruiz family a tour, instructed them on how to manage things such as the cooling system, and introduced them to Walter, who would remain in the home, they bid them good bye.
“Rest easy,” Helena said. “I’ll be here in case they need help with anything. Your home and your kitty-cat are in good hands.”
Savannah hugged Helena. “We have no doubts. Thank you so much, dear friend.”
****
“Renting that cargo trailer was a good idea, hon,” Savannah said nearly four hours later as the Ivey family and Gladys rode comfortably along the highway in their large SUV.
“Yeah, there’s no way we could have fit all that stuff in the car with us or even in one of those cartop cargo carriers. Plus, I wasn’t sure how Lexie and Buffy would travel,” Michae
l admitted. “It’s been a while since we’ve taken either of them on a car ride. I wanted the animals to have enough room.”
Savannah chuckled. “They seem fine. As long as Lexie’s with us, she’s happy. And all Buffy needs to be contented is her cozy bed or someone’s lap.”
Michael sighed. “And then there’s your cat.”
“He’s your cat too,” Savannah insisted. “He was part of my dowry, remember?”
Michael rolled his eyes at his wife and said toward the backseat, “Do you believe that, Gladys?”
“Huh? What?” she asked. “I was reading.”
Savannah crooked her neck toward the backseat. “Is that one of your book-club books, Mom?”
“Yes. They said I could participate using email and text while we’re out of the state.” She spoke more excitedly. “We did FaceTime with a member who was recuperating from surgery last week.”
“You haven’t actually attended many of the meetings, have you?”
“No. They accepted me into their group only two weeks ago.” Gladys smiled. “Good thing I knew one of the leaders. It’s not easy to get into a book club without a sponsor. But I don’t want to lose my place in the group, so I’ll stay in touch by email until we return.” She reached over the front seat and squeezed Savannah’s shoulder. “You ought to be working on Rags’s book as we travel, Vannie.”
“And miss all this lovely scenery?” she said. “…and this fascinating conversation?”
Michael grinned at her.
“Actually,” Savannah added, “I think Rob would like me to finish Rags’s memoir sooner rather than later, but my life’s been just too hectic. I hope to have some time to work on it in Colorado.” Her face lit up. “I’m close to starting the actual writing.”
“That’s progress,” Gladys said. She then suggested, “Once it’s published, maybe we could review it at the book club. You can be our guest author.” Gladys giggled. “Oh, wouldn’t that be fun, Vannie?”
Savannah laughed. “Yes. That would be an interesting new experience for me.”
“What’s funny, Mommy?” Lily asked.
“What’s funny?” Savannah repeated. “Mommy being an author, that’s what.”
Lily looked confused, then said, “Gammy, I hungry.”
“Already?” Gladys said. “Heavens child, where do you put it all?” She handed her a sippy cup. “How about some juice?”
“So, Michael, your brother has found Scott’s family?” Savannah asked.
He glanced at her. “Yes, he spoke with a daughter who still lives in the family home there in Colorado. There’s also a son in the military. The girl, Brenda, is a pastry chef who hopes to one day open her own place. She’s married to a mechanic. No children.”
Savannah smiled. “So she and her brother are your siblings, huh?”
“I guess they are—maybe… um… half siblings.” Michael let out a sigh. “Gosh, how can someone go from being an only child to suddenly being a part of a large family of virtual strangers? It’s all rather overwhelming.” He chuckled. “Keith said that he and Brenda exchanged photos and he thinks she looks a little like Aggie’s younger pictures. Brenda told him he looks like her dad… um… our dad.”
“Have they met?” Savannah asked. “I mean, Brenda and her grandmother, Aggie?” She smiled. “GranGran?”
“I don’t think so. As I understand it, Aggie’s still in Connecticut with her daughter-in-law. What’s her name?”
“Irene.”
“Yes, Irene and Jess. I guess Jess is having a hard time with his father’s death.” He glanced briefly at Savannah. “Aggie may join us in Colorado later in the week.”
“Good. I like Aggie. She’s a kick.” She shook her head. “She’s an amazing woman—I mean as spry as she is at ninety-two.” She then asked, “So Brenda’s mother’s deceased?”
Michael nodded.
Gladys tapped him on the shoulder as he drove. “Michael you could write a book.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I could—how one man’s simple life exploded into something utterly over-the-top complex and mysterious.”
“Oh!” Gladys exclaimed.
When Savannah turned to see what had happened, she smiled. “Awww. Looks like Buffy wants to cuddle.”
“Yes, she jumped out of nowhere and landed on my lap. It startled me.”
“Buffy-kitty,” Lily said, reaching out to pat the cat as the Himalayan-mix lay down on Gladys’s lap.
“You’re such a sweet cat,” Gladys cooed while she smoothed Buffy’s silky fur.
Savannah smiled. “Yes, she is. We sure do love our Buffy.”
Meow.
Everyone laughed when they saw Rags standing in the cargo space with his paws on the seat back.
“He wants some attention too,” Gladys said. “Sorry, buddy, the backseat’s full.” She waved her hand in the air. “Go up and see your mama. She has an empty lap.”
Rags meowed once more, then slid down the seat back until he was standing halfway on Gladys’s leg and halfway on the seat. He then awkwardly climbed across the console and eased onto Savannah’s lap.
“Hi there, buddy,” she crooned. “Were you getting lonely back there?” She patted her lap. “Come on, you can curl up with me.”
However, rather than settle down, Rags stood on Savannah’s legs with his front paws on the door, watching the world go swiftly past through the window.
“What are you doing,” Savannah asked the cat, “charting the course so you can make your way back home if you get bored in Colorado?”
Michael chuckled. “Are you kidding? No way will he leave this family. Even when he roams, he always comes back. He’s a boomerang cat.”
Another thought occurred to Savannah. “Do you think he’s worried?”
“About what, for heaven’s sake?” Michael asked. “What would Rags have to worry about?”
“Maybe he thinks we’re going to drive him to the boonies and abandon him.”
“Don’t give me any ideas,” Michael muttered.
“Oh, stop it,” Savannah said, slapping at him. She caressed Rags. “He’s just joking, baby cat. No one’s going to hurt you.” She ran her hand down Rags’s back and he rubbed his head affectionately against her chin.
Without warning, Michael swerved and the calm in the car turned to chaos. Savannah yelped upon being thrown against the door. At the same time, she tried unsuccessfully to catch Rags, who had lost his footing and fallen to the floor. She reached for him while quickly turning to check on the children.
Gladys gasped and grabbed Buffy before she slid off her lap. Buffy, feeling momentarily insecure, dug her claws into Gladys’s legs and she yelled, “Ouch!”
“My sippy,” Lily wailed, reaching toward the floorboard for her cup. The child then scolded, “Daddy, don’t do that! My sippy.”
“Sorry, punkin,” Michael said, sounding more than a little flustered.
“Here’s your sippy cup, sweetie,” Gladys cooed, handing it to the toddler.
“Teddy!” Savannah called. “Mom, is he okay?”
Gladys peered into the reverse-riding car seat next to her and smiled. “Sleeping like a baby,” She then asked, while rubbing her thigh, “What happened?”
Savannah frowned. “Did you get hurt, Mom?”
“Buffy clawed me, that’s all.”
“Oh, Buffy,” Savannah scolded.
“Don’t blame her. That scared her. What happened, anyway?” Gladys asked again.
Meanwhile, Michael had pulled off to the side of the road. He stared straight ahead for a moment, obviously shaken, then turned and asked, “Is everyone all right?”
“I think so,” Savannah said. She looked back at the children, then called, “Lexie. Where’s Lexie?”
Gladys strained to see into the cargo space and reported, “She seems okay—she’s huddled down in her bed.” She spoke in calming tones to the dog. “It’s okay, Lexie.”
“
What happened, Michael?” Savannah asked. “Why did you swerve?”
“Well, some guy ahead of us evidently lost something or tossed it out his window. All I know is, suddenly there’s this black thing coming at me like a large Frisbee and I swerved to keep it from hitting the windshield.” He let out a breath. “Our car may have acquired its first dent. I’ll check when we find a better place to pull over.” He shook his head. “We’re just lucky no one was in the left lane. I don’t even think I looked; I just swerved.”
“You sure did,” Savannah said, rubbing his arm. “That was quick thinking.”
“Don’t do that, Daddy,” Lily scolded again. She pouted. “Buffy hurt. My sippy cup hurt.”
“She’s hurt?” Michael asked, looking back to see Gladys holding the buff-colored cat against her chest and petting her.
“I think she’s fine; just a little scared. I kept her from falling, and,” she grumbled, “I have the claw marks to prove it.”
“But you’re all right, Gladys?”
“Yeah, except that there’s blood on my beige slacks—otherwise, yeah.” She patted Michael’s shoulder. “How are you? Must have been a frightening moment.”
“Yeah, it was.” He looked toward the back window. “I wonder what that was and where it went. I hope it didn’t hit someone else’s windshield.”
Savannah turned in her seat. “I don’t see anyone pulled over.”
“Well, good. Okay, then shall we continue?”
“Want me to drive, Michael?” Savannah offered.
“Naw, I’m okay. As long as all of you are okay, I’m okay.” To lighten the mood, he broke out in song, “On the road again…let’s get on the road again…”
Savannah smiled at him and sat back in her seat. Just then, something caught her eye in the side mirror. “Wait!” she shouted.
“What?” he asked, pressing quickly on the brake pedal.
“What’s that behind us?”
“Where? What does it look like?”
Savannah squinted into the distance. “Well, it looks like a black briefcase or satchel or something.”
“Hey, that’s probably what hit us,” Michael said. “We’d better check it out. It might be valuable to someone.” He switched on the emergency flashers, carefully exited the car, and retrieved the item. After returning to the SUV, he suggested, “How about we take that off-ramp and get a cup of coffee or something. I wouldn’t mind taking a break.” He handed the case to Savannah. “Maybe we can find a phone number in there or we can drop it off at the local police department for them to check out.”
