Jarillo Sunset

by Constance Bretes

  “I know. You’re in preschool, aren’t you?” Char asked.

  “Yep.” Maria smiled broadly at Char and stood proudly.

  “It’s just so cool.” Char hugged the girls again and they all laughed.

  Char stood up and looked at Cam. He had been her father in more ways than her own dad ever was. “Hi, Cam.”

  “Hello, Char.” He held out his arms and she went into them. Cam was almost six feet tall. His hair and his eyes were gray, and he was as thin as a rail.

  “You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Char remarked.

  “Yes, I have. Too much, according to the doctor. He’s reviewing my medications.”

  “How was your flight, Char?” her mother asked.

  “It was fine.” Char shrugged.

  “Ladies, we need to go get Char’s luggage,” Cam said quietly.

  He led the women over to the luggage area, and Char grabbed her suitcase off the luggage roller. Cam took it from her and they walked out to the parking lot.

  As Cam put Char’s luggage in the back of his Dodge caravan, everyone else got inside the vehicle. The girls sat in the back of the van, while Char, Joannie, and Kathy sat behind the front passenger seat. Char’s mother turned to Char and said, “The coroner’s office called me, and they told me that your father died of a massive heart attack. It killed him instantly. They wanted to know what to do with his body, and I told them you would be contacting them tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

  Kathy shook her head. “Why not just let them bury him in a potter’s field? He sure never did anything for us that would warrant us having to pay for his funeral.”

  “Your father and Char kept in touch,” their mother said gently. “Maybe Char would feel better if there was some sort of service, a way to say goodbye and bring some closure.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Kathy grumbled.

  Char sat quietly in the back seat of the SUV while everyone talked about stuff happening around town. Yes, her mother was right. Her dad did mean something to her. She was more like him than she cared to admit, but also, he loved her enough to keep in touch with her.

  When they reached her parents’ home in Ann Arbor, her mother told Cam to take Char’s suitcase up to her old room. Then she told Char, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, so sit down, relax, and try to enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

  * * * *

  Char went upstairs to her old room and sat down on the bed. She pulled her cellphone out, searched for Vincent’s phone number, and called him.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Vincent. I’m here in Ann Arbor now with my parents.”

  “Flight went okay?” he asked.

  “Yep. No problems at all.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Char could hear the concern in his voice. “I’m feeling okay. Mom said the coroner called and told her that Dad died of a massive heart attack and he never knew what hit him. So I’m relieved that he didn’t suffer.”

  “Yeah, that would be a relief… Char, did I hear you correctly that you got fired from Stillwater today?”

  “Yep, you heard right.”

  “What in the hell was his excuse?” Vincent asked indignantly.

  Char let out a sigh. “He said that even though I was his best seller, and was good at my job, I wasn’t a team player. I didn’t get along with the other men. Then he tried to sugarcoat it and tell me that he’d give me an excellent reference, and that I would do much better with a different realty. His exact words were, and I quote, ‘There are plenty of other good realty companies out there that are far better places for you to work than here, and you’ll thrive at one of those companies.’”

  “He really fired you for no reason at all,” Vincent said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What are you thinking of doing? You know, sexual harassment is difficult to prove.”

  “I know, but if I can find an attorney to take the case, I could tie him up with court costs and legal fees that would eat up any additional profits he’d make, maybe even put him out of business.”

  “And my lawyer friend that I told you about—Nick Saber—might be just the person for you to talk to about this. When you get back, I’ll set up a meeting for you, and we’ll see what you can do, if anything at all.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Vincent.”

  It gave Char great comfort to know that Vincent was there waiting for her and would help her. She didn’t want to hang up from talking to him, but knew the juice was about to run out on her cellphone.

  “Vincent, I have to hang up. My phone needs to be recharged. I’ll call you tomorrow after I get some running around done. I imagine I’ll have to go to a funeral home in Kalamazoo and talk to them, and I don’t know what else. Maybe I’ll have to go to his trailer and get a suit for him. There’s so much—”

  “You take it one step at a time, Char,” Vincent interrupted gently. “I’ve just finished all the arrangements for Tammie’s dad, so if you have any questions or need to discuss anything before making any decisions, you call me. Okay, honey?”

  “Okay. Vincent?”

  “Yeah.”

  Char hesitated. She was going to say she loved him, but she didn’t know if she should. “Thanks for your support and help,” she finally said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 20

  The next morning after Char finished her shower and got dressed, she walked downstairs to the kitchen. Hearing voices and her name, she stopped inside the dining room and listened.

  “Cam, Char needs to realize that no-good father of hers doesn’t deserve her tears and grief,” her mother said. “He never did a thing for her. You were more of a father to her than he ever was. I know that Kathy’s been sarcastic and bitter toward the whole thing, but I do have to agree with her—he should have just been buried by the coroner’s office in a potter’s field. Now we have to go through all of these funeral arrangements and settling his estate, which will probably be worth absolutely nothing.”

  “Diana, you need to let go of your anger toward him. It’s not helping the girls any, and it’s certainly not helping you,” Cam said quietly.

  “I can’t help it. I curse the day I got involved with him. Marrying him was the worst mistake I ever made.”

  “You got two lovely daughters out of the deal,” Cam said reassuringly.

  “Yes, I did. I guess I can give him some credit for lending half his DNA to fathering two beautiful young women.”

  Char had heard enough. She walked noisily into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mom, Cam,” she said with a lump in her throat.

  “Good morning, Char. Did you sleep good?” Cam asked.

  “Yes, fine.” Char smiled at Cam.

  Her mother was leaning against the counter, looking at her quizzically. “How are you doing, dear?”

  “Okay.”

  “We need to sit down and decide what you want to accomplish today.”

  Cam got up and pulled his blazer from the back of the chair. “I’m off to work. I’ll talk with you ladies tonight.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, and then gave Char a peck on the cheek. “It’s good to have you home again, Char,” he commented, and then walked out the door.

  As Char and her mother ate breakfast, they talked about getting the funeral arranged. “Is Kathy coming to the funeral?” Char asked.

  “Yes, she wants to come to be with you. But Joannie isn’t, because she really can’t afford to miss any time from school. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know why Kathy wants to come since she obviously hates Dad.”

  “Well, I think she’s carrying some guilt about this whole thing, and maybe this is her way to help alleviate that. What do you think about having the funeral here rather than in Kalamazoo?”

  “I think it needs to be in Kalamazoo. That’s where he’s lived all his life, and his co-workers may want to pay their respects. Plus, it would cost us to have his body transported here
,” Char said thoughtfully.

  “Oh, okay. You’re right, of course.”

  Kathy walked in through the back door. “Well, let’s go get this over with, shall we?”

  The three of them walked out to her mother’s car and Kathy got in the front seat with her mother while Char climbed into the back seat.

  “Char, do you know which funeral home you’d like to use?” her mother asked.

  Char opened her purse and pulled out the sheet of paper she had written funeral home information on. “Yes, it’s Whitely Funeral Home in downtown Kalamazoo.”

  “Okay, that should be easy to find.”

  Char hunkered down in the back seat of her mother’s car, and let Kathy and her mother do all the talking the whole trip to Kalamazoo. Char thought about her relationship with Vincent. That was more pleasant to think about than what she had to do over the next few hours.

  Of everything that had happened to her the past few weeks, the best and brightest thing was meeting Vincent. And the greatest part of it? He was into her. He wanted more from her, and she wanted to give him more. More than anything, she wanted to give him her heart. But she was afraid. She was afraid of losing herself in the process. She was afraid of his working at the casino. She was against casinos on principle, and it struck a nerve with her. But mostly, she was afraid that he wouldn’t return her love. There was a difference between him being into her and wanting more from her, than him loving her.

  And then there was the subject of marriage. She thought about the man, and his name—Mr. and Mrs. Vincent and Charlene Carter. Mrs. Charlene Carter. She liked that. It had a good ring to it. She thought about a wedding and what she’d wear, and that sadden her because her father wouldn’t be the one to walk her down the aisle. In all honesty, Cam deserved that privilege, but right now, she was melancholy and knowing her father wouldn’t be there hurt.

  They arrived at the funeral home and got out of the car and went inside.

  “Hello, how can I help you?” a gentleman asked.

  “I’m here to arrange my father’s funeral,” Char replied.

  “Okay. Let’s go into my office and we’ll see what we can do.”

  They followed him to his office, and he brought in an extra chair so all three of them could sit together.

  He took a seat behind his desk and said, “My name is Gabriel Whitely, and I’m one of the owners of the funeral home. You are...”

  “I’m Char Johnson, and this is my mother Diana Patterson, and my sister Kathy Marcus.”

  “And who is the deceased?”

  “My father, Maxwell Johnson.”

  “Where is his body?”

  “At the county morgue.” Char looked at her mother and she nodded in confirmation.

  Mr. Whitely continued to ask Char questions, and some answers she had to defer to her mother as she did not know.

  In the course of talking about the funeral and what they would do, Char decided she would just like one viewing, and then have him cremated. That way they would only have to pay to rent a casket, and they wouldn’t have to pay for a cemetery plot, or any of the other expenses involved in having someone buried.

  “You will need to provide us with some clothing to put on him for the viewing.”

  Char looked at her mother then back to Mr. Whitely. “Um, I think he probably has a suit at his place, but, um, I don’t know, we’ll have to go and see.”

  Her mother spoke up, “We’ll go to the police department and get the address where he lived, and then we’ll go take a look and see if he has something that would be presentable.”

  Char shifted uncomfortably in the chair as Mr. Whitely gave her a surprised look. She felt guilty that she didn’t know where her own father lived, and that she hadn’t made more of an effort to be a part of his life. During her childhood, her father never came to take her to his home and didn’t do things with her. She wondered what he liked to do besides gambling and drinking. Why hadn’t he taken more interest in his daughters? She had so many questions about her father, and now she would never know the answers, because the only person who could answer those questions was gone.

  “Is there anything else that we should see about getting while we’re there?” Char’s mother asked Mr. Whitely.

  “I think we have everything we need,” he replied.

  Kathy snickered. “All this just to cremate his dead body.”

  * * * *

  After they left the funeral home they drove over to the police station. Char told her mother and sister, “You don’t have to come in with me. I can do this by myself, just wait for me here in the car.” She scrambled out of the car and ran up the steps to the police department lobby before anyone could say anything.

  A police officer standing at the desk looked up as Char walked in and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, a day or so ago, one of your officers responded to a call to my father’s trailer and discovered that he was dead. I’ve came up from New Mexico to make funeral arrangements, and I don’t know where his trailer is. I need to get the address from you if possible.”

  “What’s the victim’s name?”

  “Maxwell Johnson.”

  The officer keyed information into the computer and then looked at her. “Do you have any ID?”

  “Yes.” Char pulled her driver’s license out of her wallet and handed it to the officer.

  The officer looked it over and said, “He lived in a trailer at a campsite just out of town called Sheridan Campsite. He was in trailer number fifteen.”

  “Do you know how to get to the campsite?” Char asked.

  “Yes, take this road back to I-94, and just as you go over the overpass, on the right, is the campsite.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Char said as the officer handed her driver’s license back to her.

  “You’re welcome.” The officer looked over to assist the individual that came in behind Char, and Char walked out the door.

  She went outside, got back into the back seat of her mother’s car, and gave her directions to the campsite.

  As her mother pulled out of the parking lot, Kathy muttered, “I don’t understand why we’re even going to have a viewing for him. It’s not like he was particularly close to anyone. Why not just have him cremated and be done with it?”

  “Because I think there might be people who want to pay their respects,” Char answered quietly.

  Fifteen minutes later, Char’s mother pulled up to the trailer that was number fifteen and parked the car. She asked Char, “Do you think it will be open? We might have to go get a key to get in.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Let me try the door first.” Char climbed out of the car and walked up to the door and turned the knob. It opened. Char looked back and shrugged her shoulders at her mom.

  The other two women got out of the car as Char walked into the trailer. It still smelled. It was a smell that Char would never forget, having smelled Dennis’s decomposing body a few weeks ago.

  “Oh my God, I’m gonna barf,” Kathy said.

  The trailer was a little forty foot camper trailer with a front living room, center dining area and kitchen, a small bathroom, and a small bedroom. Char started searching through all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen and living area of the trailer to see if there were any papers or things of value that he might have tucked away.

  Kathy went outside to throw up, while Char and her mother continued going through everything. Char walked into her father’s bedroom. On his dresser, he had numerous pictures of Char and Kathy as they were growing up. Char noticed that he had her and Kathy’s graduation invitations clipped to his mirror. She sorted through the school pictures that she and Kathy had sent to her father each year.

  She took a closer look at a familiar-looking snapshot. Then it came to her. He’d taken that picture at her graduation when she got her diploma! He had taken several pictures of her, and he also had pictures of Kathy at her graduation. She noticed that he had pictures of Kathy and herself when
they performed a piano duet at a recital one year.

  “Look at this,” she said to her mother. “Dad was at some of the major events that happened in their lives.”

  Her mom looked at the pictures, and said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Char also found some photographs of Kathy’s wedding. She and her new husband were stepping outside the church, and from the angle of the picture, it looked like her father had snapped it from across the street. “Look, Mom, Kathy’s wedding. He was there! I wonder why he never showed himself to us.”

  “I don’t know why, Char. He was such an odd man.” Her mother looked through more of the pictures, shaking her head.

  “It must have pained him to see Kathy and her husband, knowing he wasn’t able to be there to give her away.” Char looked through more pictures.

  Her mother scowled at her. “It was more like an imposition that he had to come at all.”

  Char opened a drawer and found his birth certificate and a number of other things, like life insurance policies and stuff she would have to sort out later. She stuffed the papers in her purse and continued going through everything.

  Her mother opened the closet and found that her father had three suits.

  “Which one do you want to bury him in?” her mother asked.

  Char looked them over and said, “The blue one.”

  Her mother pulled the blue one off the hanger and took out a clean shirt and tie.

  Char looked at her mother and said, “I guess we’ve got everything we need.”

  “I think we do too, honey. Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked back to the front of the trailer and out the door. As they were loading the stuff in the trunk, a car pulled up and an older gentleman stepped out. “Are you relatives of Max Johnson?”

  Char walked up to him. “I’m his daughter.”

  “I’m the owner of the campsite. Can you tell me when you might be able to move his things out? We need to clean the trailer and rent it out to someone else.”

  Kathy came up behind Char. “You want to rent that out after he died there?” she asked scathingly.

  “Yes, the trailer is in pretty good shape,” the man said.