by Patricia Fry
“Oh, yes. I’ve learned that there are some battles better left unfought,” Michael said. “…or something like that.”
Keith grinned. “I know what you mean.”
“The place should be right around here,” Michael announced thirty minutes later as he slowed the car. He then said, “Well, this can’t be right, can it?” He gazed out across the street at a large home behind a gate.
“That’s the right address,” Keith said. “Gee, it’s no showplace anymore, is it?”
Michael turned off the ignition and looked at his brother, then at the women and kids in the back of the car. “Well?”
Holly peered out the window. “If it had a heyday, I’d say it’s certainly over. What a run-down, overgrown place! How could anyone allow this to happen?”
“Well, what do you think?” Michael asked. “Do we want to check it out or shall we go someplace cozy and get some hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate!” Adam called out.
Cassie agreed. “Yeah, hot chocolate.”
Keith grinned at the children, then said, “I don’t see any no-trespassing signs.”
“Would it make a difference if you did?” Holly asked.
He looked back at her and winked. “Depends. Hey, we’re here; why don’t we take a look around?”
“I’m game,” Savannah said, easing out of the car and pulling her jacket around her.
“Of course, you are Ms. Marco Polo,” Michael quipped.
The eager trailblazers had managed to slip through a gap in the broken fence and make their way through a thick accumulation of snow when Cassie called out, “Hey, look at Rags. Where’s he going?”
At the same time, Adam felt the cat tugging against the leash. “He wants to go under that porch thing. No, Rags!” he shouted.
When Adam slipped on an icy spot and fell, Cassie grabbed the leash and tried to help him manage the cat. She pointed. “There’s a door under there. I’ve never seen a door under a porch before.”
“Look, it’s open,” Adam noticed. “Hey, that’s where Rags wants to go. Dad, should I let him go in there?”
Michael walked closer to where the children and the cat were. “It must lead into the basement.” He looked around. “I wonder if vagrants have been crashing here.”
“What’s a vagrant?” Cassie asked.
“Usually someone who’s homeless,” her father explained as he and Michael moved closer to the opening.
She took a step back. “You mean there might be someone in there?”
“Yeah, what if he’s mean or crazy?” Adam said, making a face.
Michael put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Well, junior explorers, let’s go see.” He reached for Rags’s leash. “Here, give me the cat.” Once Michael had opened the door wide enough for them to enter, he asked, “Adam, do you have your flashlight with you?”
“Sure do,” he said, pulling it from his pocket. “It’s a good thing I brought it, ’cause we keep needing it, huh, Dad?”
“Sure is, Son.”
“Does someone live here, do you think, Dad?” Adam asked after they’d carefully descended five or six steps and moved to the middle of the room.
Cassie, who’d hung back with the women, rushed to catch up with Adam. “Yeah, look at all this furniture and stuff.”
“Well, if someone does live here,” Holly said, “they sure haven’t cleaned house in a long time.” She ran her finger over a table and made a face. “Filthy.”
They’d walked around in the basement for a while when Keith asked, “Shall we take the stairs up to the main part of the house?”
“Yeah,” Adam said excitedly.
“Wait there,” he instructed, “I’ll go up and check it out.” He turned and asked Michael, “Can I take that light?” Shortly, Keith called quietly, “Come on up.” He held the light so the others could see to climb the stairs. Michael carried Rags.
“Oh,” Holly yelped when she reached the main floor, “look at this furniture. Oh my gosh, I can’t imagine anyone leaving it behind.”
“Yeah, it belongs in a museum, at least,” Savannah said. When she noticed Michael struggling a little with the cat, she offered, “Here, I’ll take him.” She then simply allowed him to go where he wanted to go on the retractable leash as she continued to look around the room in the turn-of-the-century mansion.
After several minutes, Adam pointed. “Hey, Rags is digging in there, Savannah.” He rushed to the cat. “What’s in that box, anyway?”
“Looks like a kindling box,” Michael said. When he noticed a puzzled look on Adam’s face, he explained, “Where they store small pieces of wood and other materials to light a fire in the fireplace.”
Holly looked inside the box. “And old newspapers.” She picked one up. “Here’s one published in nineteen seventy-six.” She carefully took another one and shook it in front of her. “They’re dusty.” She then announced, “Nineteen eighty.” She looked at Keith and Michael, who were across the room eying an old painting. “That’s the year you two were born.”
“I want to see what was happening then,” Adam said eagerly. “…you know, in the olden days.” He picked up one of the newspapers. “Look at these old cars and people with funny hair.” When he showed the pictures to Cassie, both of them giggled.
“Hey, Rags found one over here on this table,” Cassie said.
When Adam joined her, he picked it up. “It says nineteen seventy-nine.”
“Let’s look at that one,” Cassie suggested. She watched as Adam turned a few pages, then she swatted at the dust swirls in front of her. “Whew, that’s dirty,” she said, sneezing.
“Are you okay?” Holly asked.
“Yeah,” she said, sneezing again.
“Here’s a tissue,” Savannah offered from a small package.
“Thanks,” Cassie said, taking it.
Adam giggled. “Look at how funny people dressed in the old days, Savannah.”
She glanced at the newspaper he held and something caught her eye. “Wait, isn’t that your mother, Michael?”
“Where?” both he and Keith asked.
“It’s the same picture we saw at your grandfather’s farm, only she’s with someone here. He’s the guy who was cut out of that other picture.” She read the headlines, “Carol Tilford announces her engagement to Scott Hanson.”
“Wow!” Holly said when she joined them.
“He looks like you, Dad,” Adam said. He tilted his head and gazed at Keith. “…and you, too, Uncle Keith.”
Cassie scooted in front of her mother so she could see the picture. “Dad,” she shouted, “it looks like a picture of you.”
“Well, isn’t that…um…interesting,” Keith said.
“And the plot thickens,” Savannah muttered under her breath. She turned to face the men. “He’s the spitting image of you guys.”
Michael shrugged. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. But I do see a resemblance.”
“And he looks tall,” Keith said. “The pictures I’ve seen of our father show him to be a fairly small man, right?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t very big,” Michael concurred.
“Oh, my gosh,” Holly said upon opening the pages of another newspaper. “Check this out.” When the others looked up, she said, “Here’s Scott Hanson’s obituary.”
“Obituary?” Keith repeated.
“What’s the date on that paper?” Savannah asked.
“Um…November fifteenth, nineteen seventy-nine.” She looked at Savannah. “What’s the date on your paper?”
“November fifth. They were to be married on Thanksgiving.”
“So he died while they were engaged.” Holly then muttered, “I wonder how.” When the others looked at her, she said, “I mean how he died.”
“Doesn’t it say?” Keith asked.
“No. This is just an announcement.”
Keith ran his hand through his hair and paced across the room. He turned to face h
is brother.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Michael asked, obviously baffled by this discovery.
“That Scott Hanson may have been our father?” Keith said.
Suddenly, they heard a man’s voice behind them. “That’s possible, I suppose.”
The couples turned quickly and saw a man of about forty-five staring across the room at them. “…or maybe not,” he said quickly.
“Oh,” Michael said, startled. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. “I guess we have some explaining to do.”
The man studied the intruders for a moment, then said, “Not really. I’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?” Keith asked. “Why? Who are you?”
“Jess Hanson,” he said. “I’m the caretaker here.”
Holly rolled her eyes and whispered to Savannah, “Caretaker?”
“I live in that cottage behind the main house.”
“Cottage?” Savannah questioned. “I didn’t notice a cottage.”
“Yeah, I think I saw it,” Holly said, “off to the left, there.”
Jess nodded.
“Why is this place closed up and abandoned like this?” Holly asked.
Jess shrugged. “Why not? I guess I’m just not interested in maintaining it. I’d rather live a more simple life and pursue my art.” He gazed around the large room. “This is too much of an encumbrance and Dad wasn’t interested.”
Keith swallowed hard. “Your dad? So who is your father, may I ask?”
“Yeah, you can ask,” Jess said, “but I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.”
Keith and Michael looked at one another, their eyebrows lowered. The next words out of Jess’s mouth stunned everyone in the room.
“Same as your father,” Jess said matter-of-factly.
The brothers stared at the stranger named Jess for several seconds, then they turned in opposite directions and each ran a hand through their hair. Michael paced for a moment toward the large fireplace and Keith took several steps off to the right.
Holly looked at Savannah and they both began to laugh.
When the men turned to face them, Holly pointed out, “You’re both pacing.”
The brothers looked at each other, then Keith approached Jess. “Okay, what’s going on? What don’t we know that we should know?”
“Yeah, what can you tell us?” Michael asked. He nodded toward Keith. “It appears that we’ve both been kept in the dark about important family matters for a very long time. What gives, man?”
“I guess that’s right,” Jess said. He looked at the others. “Hey, why don’t you come back to my place where it’s warm and I’ll see if I can clue you in.” Suddenly, he noticed Rags sitting next to Adam on the fireplace hearth. “What’s that?” he asked, taking a couple of steps back.
As if apologizing, Michael said, “Oh, that’s our cat.” He winced. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh…well, no, I guess.” He looked sideways at Rags, then turned and said, “Follow me, will you?”
Chapter 9
“So here’s the Hanson family album,” Jess said, opening a large leather-bound book. He pointed. “This is Dad.”
After glancing at his brother, Michael said, “Hold on there. You’re going to have to take it slowly. As of a few minutes ago, as far as we knew, Randall Ivey was our father.”
“Yeah, but no,” Jess said. “Sorry about that. You boys are Hansons through and through—well, with a little Tilford, of course, from your ma’s side.”
“How do you know this? Why didn’t anyone tell us before?” Keith asked.
Jess looked at Keith, then at Michael. “Which one of you was raised here?”
“I was,” Michael said.
“And you were adopted?” he asked Keith.
He nodded.
“Well, I guess your pa—that is your stepfather, Randall Ivey—stepped up to the plate when Uncle Scott died, and rescued the lady in distress—saved her reputation, you might say. From what I understand, he married Carol knowing she was pregnant, but he didn’t know she was carrying twins.” He winced. “I guess he didn’t want too much responsibility and he made your ma give up one of you boys.” He pointed at Keith. “You, I guess.”
“So you’re telling us that Scott Hanson was our father?” Michael asked.
“No!” Jess said. “I didn’t say that.”
Holly spoke up. “We saw a picture of Scott Hanson in a newspaper back there, and he looked just like Keith and Michael.”
Jess nodded. “Yeah, you guys look a lot like him.” He paused. “…like his pictures, anyway. I don’t remember too much about Uncle Scott. I was seven when he died.”
Holly looked suspiciously at Jess. “He was obviously engaged to their mother while she was pregnant, but he wasn’t their father?”
“That’s right. She was carrying Scott’s older brother’s child…” he looked at the two men and amended, “…as it turned out, children.”
“Wait, you’re losing me,” Michael said. “Are you saying our mother was engaged to Scott, but…” he glanced at the two children, who were playing with Rags, and spoke more quietly, “…she was...um…dating his brother?”
“Yes, Brandt Hanson, our father.” Jess sat back in his chair. “Actually, she dated Dad first. My mother had left Dad by then and I was living in the Midwest with her, so I didn’t know about any of this until later. Dad told me the details a few years ago when we went on a fishing trip together. He thought I’d like to know that I had brothers.” He looked at Michael, then Keith. “I grew up an only child.”
“But they look just like Scott!” Holly exclaimed.
Jess stared at her for a minute, then scratched his head. “Yeah, that they do.”
Savannah stepped up alongside Jess and looked down at the album. “So, which one is your dad?”
Jess turned a few pages, then pointed. “That’s him, Brandt Hanson. That’s his college graduation photo.”
“Now you look like him,” Holly said to Jess, when she got a look at the photo. “…very different from Scott and these two guys.”
Savannah agreed. She studied Jess for a moment, making note of his light-brown, slightly wavy hair and close-set eyes. She gazed at Keith and Michael, focusing on their straight, dark-brown hair, each with the same stubborn cowlick over one eyebrow and light-blue eyes. “But neither you nor Brandt Hanson have the same features as Keith and Michael.”
“They’re quite a bit taller than you, too,” Holly said.
Jess nodded. “Yeah, I got my short stature from my mom’s side, I guess.”
“Can I see?” Adam asked. After gazing at a couple of the pictures in the album, he looked at Jess. “Who are you to me?”
Everyone laughed and Michael said, “Well, he tells us he’s your uncle, both yours and Cassie’s.”
“And Lily’s and Bethany’s uncle?” Cassie asked.
Michael nodded.
“Wow, two new uncles in the same week!” Adam said.
Cassie grabbed his arm. “Hey, let’s go play with Rags some more.”
Michael studied the pictures for a few moments. “Where’s Brandt Hanson buried?”
“He’s not,” Jess said. “He and his current wife run a restaurant just over in the next county.” He looked at the men. “He wanted to go in search of you boys after your mother died. He’d stayed in touch with people who knew her and he heard of her death, but he was into the booze then and decided not to interfere. He’s been sober for almost ten years, now.” Jess stretched his legs out, then shifted in the chair. “He’s doing pretty well, actually. This would be a good time to meet up with him. I can take you to him if you’d like. He doesn’t know you’re here. So if you want to skip it that’s okay, too.”
When Michael and Keith sat without saying anything for a few moments, Jess raised his eyebrows. “Hey, there is someone you really should meet, though.”
Stunned, Keith asked, “Who’s
that?”
Jess made eye contact with Keith, then Michael. “Our grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” both of them repeated.
Michael confirmed, “That would be Grandmother Hanson?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she—in a nursing home?” Holly asked.
“No,” Jess said, laughing. “Heavens no.”
“Then why isn’t she living here?” Savannah asked. “I mean in the main house. That’s her home, isn’t it?”
Jess sat forward in his chair. “It’s the memories. She’d rather close it up and walk away than spend any time here. The historical society is interested in restoring it and opening it to the public. That’s what we’d all like to see.”
“So where is their grandmother?” Savannah asked.
“Just over the border in Rhode Island.” He glanced at Rags. “She loves cats.”
“How old is she?” Keith asked.
“Ninety-two, but you wouldn’t know it. She’s one spry gal. Would you like to meet her?”
“Sure would,” Keith said, looking to Michael and the women for confirmation.
Michael nodded, then said, “I’d like to meet the man you say is our father, too. How about you, Keith?”
“By all means.”
Jess nodded. “Okay, how about we get together tomorrow? I’m sure she’ll want to meet all of you. You say there are more children? How many are there?”
“There are nine of us vacationing together,” Holly said, “four children and five adults. We’ve actually rented two large SUVs. We can take two cars tomorrow. Want us to pick you up?”
“Can Rags come with us?” Cassie asked.
Jess grinned, asking, “Do you take that cat everywhere you go? Does he like riding in the car?”
“Yeah,” Adam said, “he goes in the car all the time and he rode here in an airplane.” When Jess appeared to be interested, Adam added, “He’s famous.”
“He’s in a movie and in books,” Cassie explained.
“No kidding?”
“And he saved a little girl and a dog in Massachusetts last week,” Adam said.
Jess simply stared at the cat and shook his head. “Yeah, GranGran will want to meet that cat, for sure.”
