by Nicole Casey
“I grew up here,” said Claire. “Every week, I go out to the communities dispersed in the mountains. Been doing so for near twenty years now. Still haven’t been to all of them. Still haven’t seen all there is to see.”
We rode for two hours, parked the car along a dirt road, and hiked another hour. Claire talked the whole time. She had many stories to tell and was happy to share them. Holly took notes as if she were writing a book—maybe she would. After all, Claire was giving her material for several volumes.
“We’re going to arrive right about lunchtime,” said Claire. “Perfect.”
“Why is that perfect?” asked Holly.
“They all eat together; it’s a real community. That’ll save us from having to go door to door.” She added under her breath, “They don’t like to be disturbed at home, but at lunchtime, everybody will be outside and together. Makes my job a whole lot easier. Plus”—she turned to Holly and smiled— “aren’t you hungry? I know I am.”
Claire’s description of a vibrant, though closed-off, community with families and children and elderly people living off the land, tucked away in the mountains, came as a surprise to me. “We’ve been hiking the mountains for days, and we haven’t seen any trace of a community like that,” I said.
She laughed at my comment. “You haven’t seen them because they don’t want you to see them.”
Claire led us down winding trails, up steep slopes, and onto trails hidden behind the wild brush. We walked until the sound of music and children playing announced that we were close to our destination.
There must have been close to thirty people of all ages gathered at long makeshift tables and grills. Claire knew them all by name, and they welcomed her with cheers and warm greetings. I admit I was a bit jealous. In Georgia's mountains, though the experience had been a positive one, I had not been welcomed with anywhere near the same amount of enthusiasm.
The young children took to Holly immediately, which was a big help in allowing me to examine them. The older boys took to her, too, and they were proud to grab their fiddles and guitars and serenade her with music. Some even taught her a few dance steps.
From there, we hiked back to the car, drove another two hours, hiked another thirty minutes, and visited another tucked-away community. They gave us an equally warm reception.
I was amazed at how at ease Holly seemed to be. She got on as well with the children as she did with the elderly, girls and boys, men and women alike. I studied her, the way she acted and talked with them, blending curiosity and concern, respect and reassurance with remarkable grace. My bedside manner, while not bad, was something I was aware I needed to work on. Holly, unbeknownst to her, was a great teacher.
As we were driving back to Franklin, Holly raved about the experience. “I have so much material, I could write a book, or five, or ten.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said.
“It’s too bad, though, that we don’t have proper dental equipment,” she said. “There is a lot of work to do here on that front.”
“Sounds like you may have found your mission,” said Claire, and she gave her a wink and a smile.
Holly looked over her shoulder at me, crunched between boxes. “Right now, my mission is to reunite a family.”
I kept checking for cell phone reception. Eventually, we left the mountains and neared Franklin. At that moment, my phone vibrated with two messages. Both messages were from the nurse at Angel Clinic.
First message: Ryker, this is Amy from Angel Clinic. I have a lead. Call me as soon as you can.
Second message: Ryker, this is Amy from Angel Clinic. Call me as soon as you get this message. I have news. It could be big.
I’d never dialed faster.
“Ryker! I have great news or potentially great news. I found the paramedic you were looking for.”
“You found him! Amy, you’re a rock star. Thank you.”
Holly turned in her seat and looked at me. The excitement on her face matched the excitement in my voice and Amy’s.
“I spoke with him on the phone,” Amy continued. “He has eight brothers. He’s your man.”
“Oh, wow. That is great. I can’t believe it. Amy, you sure are putting the ‘angel’ in Angel Clinic. You know that, right?”
“I just made a few calls. No biggie.”
“For me, it’s huge. Thank you, Amy.”
“I have his number. I’ll give it to you now.”
My chest was restricted. My breath caught in my throat.
“Are you ready,” she asked.
I gulped. “No. Hang on a minute.” I motioned to Holly for her pen and paper. I took in a deep breath, tried to calm down, took the pen and paper from Holly, and exhaled. “Okay, I’m ready.”
When I finished the call with Amy, I leaned back in my seat, gripping the phone to my chest. I was far more nervous than I’d expected. I was even shaking.
“What is it?” said Holly. “What did she say?”
I couldn’t speak at the moment. I simply handed Holly the paper with the phone number written on it.
I didn’t call straight away. Instead, I tried planning out what I was going to say and how. Every option I came up with sounded crazy.
While I was thinking, Holly filled Claire in on my search—our search.
We returned to the same diner we’d eaten at the day prior. We invited Claire, but she said she had to get back to her family. “And,” she added, turning to me with a wink, “you need to get back to yours.”
Before entering the diner, on Holly’s insistence, I made the call.
“Hello, my name’s Ryker Dennison. I got your number from Amy at Angel Clinic here in Franklin.”
“Oh, hi. She mentioned you might be calling. Said you were looking for me but didn’t say why.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s right.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Well”—I let out a long slow breath, my shoulders relaxed, and the tension left my body— “this may sound crazy, but.…”
I told him who I was, a doctor in residence in Massachusetts here in North Carolina as part of the thru-hike. I told him about the waitress at the diner who thought we looked identical.
“And, the strange thing,” I said, “the thing that has me wondering, what’s really odd about this, is that, well, you see.…”
Holly gritted her teeth and punched me on the shoulder. She mouthed “say it” and glared at me with wide, insistent eyes.
“Well, here goes,” I said. “I was born in North Carolina, that I know, or at least nearby in the mountains. but I was adopted, and I don’t know the names of my birth parents. I came here—”
“Oh, my goodness,” he interrupted. “Wait. How old are you? When were you born?”
His voice was excited. He rushed his words, which had me thinking there might be something to this lead.
“I’m twenty-five,” I said. “I celebrate my birthday on May first, but that’s just an estimate. I don’t know my actual birthday.”
“Oh, my goodness. Where are you now?”
“At the Franklin Country Kitchen.”
“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll be there in… an hour? I want to call the others.”
I gulped. The others? This is serious. “Yeah, okay. I can be here. I’m wearing a red sweatshirt with—”
“I think I’ll be able to spot you,” he said.
I laughed nervously. “Of course.”
“See you in an hour.”
I hung up the phone and looked at Holly, who was watching me eagerly for the news.
“He’s coming here. Says he’ll be here in an hour.”
“Wow.” Holly balled her hands into fists and shook them like she was cheering on her favorite sports team.
“He said he’s going to call the others.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Can you believe it!?”
I put my hands up, open palms out. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Could be nothing.”
&
nbsp; She tilted her head to the side. “Or it could be something—something huge. In any event, we’ll find out soon enough.”
13
Holly
I’d never been a girl who pushes her luck. It was true I’d been lucky in the past: lucky to have good, caring parents, lucky to have a good job, lucky to have opportunities like this thru-hike fall in my lap. And I’d always been someone who appreciates the luck that comes my way.
A few days ago, I fantasized about some guy I’d never met and then found him in the mountains, naked, lying on a slab of rock by the river. I thought there was an off chance he was the guy I was hoping to run into, but I didn’t ask him his name. I was content with what fell in my lap; I wasn’t going to push my luck.
Then I was lucky enough to have him by my side in a quaint country diner, my hand resting on his knee under the table. I had to grip him tightly to keep his leg from shaking. His nervous energy married with mine, and I was feeling antsy. My hand was on his leg, so close to his crotch. I could slide it up and feel the bulge. No one in the diner would be the wiser. Still, I kept my hand on his knee. I didn’t push my luck; I didn’t ask for more.
Yet there I was, at the quaint country diner, staring across the table at two men, identical twins, who were the spitting image of my Doctor Dreamy beside me.
The two men, Will and Owen, were six years older than Ryker. Yet they had the same distinguishing features—the same chiseled jaw, the same wide, dark eyes set apart from high brows and a slender nose; there were features bold and unhidden which gave the three men the same look of pride and honesty.
After brief introductions, Will and Owen listened attentively to Ryker’s story. Occasionally, Will would turn to Owen and utter, “It can’t be.” Then in other parts of Ryker’s story, Owen would say, “It could be.”
“I figured,” said Ryker, “I’d come down here, spend a few weeks, ask around, see what I can turn up. I know it’s a long shot, but”—he looked at me, put his hand on top of mine, and squeezed— “I’ve been lucky before.”
Will took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The expression on his face was part wonder, part disbelief. He reached into the inside pocket of his vest and pulled out a plastic bag. He handed it to Ryker.
Ryker took it and examined the contents: a cotton swab and a vile. “What’s this for?”
“Would you mind?” said Will. “I’ve got a friend on the force. We could get the DNA tested, find out if you’re.…”
“If I’m what?”
Will turned to Owen, who simply gave him a solemn nod. Will turned back to Ryker. He cleared the place setting in front of him, put his elbows onto the table, locked his fingers together, and told us the most incredible story.
“We were living in the mountains at that time,” said Will. “Not far from here, right on the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. This would have been about twenty-two years ago already.” He glanced over at Owen, and Owen confirmed with a nod.
“Those were different times back then,” continued Will. “Good times for us kids, not so good for our parents, though. You see, they married young, and their folks weren’t none too pleased about it, either. So, they left their hometown, Blossom, Tennessee, and headed for the mountains, so they could be together, raise a family like they wanted to.
“There were seven of us kids at that time—Owen and I are twins. We’re the oldest. And we got another set of twins two years younger than us.”
“Another set of twins!” I blurted out then and belatedly put a hand over my mouth.
Will nodded. “Brock and Gannon’s their names.”
“Sorry for the outburst,” I said. “I just—” I closed my mouth and put my hand out, inviting him to continue.
“Not a problem,” said Will. “Anyway, we didn’t have much, but we had each other.” He looked at Owen, who confirmed with a nod.
Will took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and continued. “One day, our mom had to go into town with the youngest. Dennis was his name. He couldn’t keep his food down and needed to see a doctor for something bad. He was three years old at the time.”
“Three years,” Ryker mumbled—the age he’d been adopted.
I stole a glance at Ryker, and he had his attention locked on Will.
“I knew one of us should have gone with her,” Will continued, and he hung his head and shook it regrettably.
Owen put his hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to continue.
“Pops wasn’t feeling too good, and our second youngest brother, Shaun, was under the spell, too.”
“The spell?” I asked.
“He means a fever,” Owen explained. “It’s what we call it ‘round here.”
“Mom said we had to stay back and look after them, us being the oldest,” Will said. He pounded his fist against the table and shook his head.
I could tell he was fighting back tears, and my heart sank in my chest.
Will wiped his chin, put his elbows back on the table, and continued. “When she didn’t come back by nightfall, we went out looking for her.”
I gasped.
“It was a cold night.” Will glanced out the window as if it looked out onto the scene he was describing. “Too cold. She wouldn’t have survived the night if we hadn’t found her.”
He paused, looked down at the table, and ran his hand over it like he was clearing it of crumbs.
The anticipation was too great for me. I prodded, “But you found her?”
He nodded. “She was unconscious, lying off the trail. Later said she lost her footing, tumbled, and hit her head.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Problem was,” Will continued, “Dennis wasn’t with her.
“When she fell, Dennis must have wandered off, trying to find help.” He rubbed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Again, Owen put a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to go on.
“Dennis never could sit still. Not a minute.” He chuckled nervously and glanced over at Owen, who smiled knowingly.
“We were all night looking for him, all night then all day the next day then all night again.” He put his hands flat onto the table and let out a breath like he’d just run a marathon. “There it is,” he said, “Our little brother Dennis, twenty-three years ago”—he snapped his finger— “vanished.”
Ryker, still holding the plastic bag with the vial and cotton swab, looked at it and uttered, “And I could be Dennis.”
Will nodded, then motioned with his head to the plastic bag. “Only one way to find out.”
The arrival of our food marked a welcome break. We all needed to catch our breath after that story. Will wanted to know everything about Ryker: how he grew up, his likes, his dislikes. And Ryker was happy to oblige. And I was happy to listen.
I got a detail-packed crash course on this new man in my life. After one dinner, I probably knew more about Ryker than I did any other man I’d ever dated before.
I was pleasantly surprised at the common threads between his upbringing and mine. Though he grew up on the East Coast, and I on the West, our experiences weren’t so dissimilar. We’d both gone through a goth phase at more or less the same time. And we both went into medicine for the same reason: the TV show Scrubs.
Ryker told his life story all the way up to the hike, meeting me and to us now seated at the table in Franklin Country Kitchen. Then he asked Will a string of questions, interrupting his answers with more strings of questions. Owen and I were relegated to bystanders.
While Will and Ryker were engaged, Owen asked me what I did in San Diego.
“I’m a dentist.”
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a dentist.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m scared of dentists. Terrified, actually.”
“You’re not the only one,” I said.
“Somehow, I doubt your patients are scared of you.”
I cocked my head to the side and t
wisted my lips into a pensive frown. “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You have a calming presence. I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s your smile.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“I’m sorry. Would you rather hear that you’re intimidating, that you make me nervous?”
I shrugged. “I suppose I would take that as a compliment, too.”
He chuckled. “That’s a healthy attitude.”
After a beat, I asked, “Do I?”
“Do you what?”
“Do I make you nervous?”
He laughed. “Somehow, I think, even if you had a drill aimed at my mouth, I would feel just fine.”
Is he coming on to me? Or just trying to be nice?
Owen had a very confident and commanding way about him. He spoke slowly and articulated each word as if what he was saying were extremely important and that I’d better listen. He also had an imposing physical presence: stockier, more robust, thicker arms than his twin or even Ryker, who had quite the athletic build.
As for his facial features, they were identical to those of his twin, save a scar that cut through his left eyebrow.
I motioned to it with my fork. “How’d you get the scar?”
He touched it and said, “An axe.”
“An axe!”
He chuckled and brought his thumb and index finger together. “A small axe.”
“What were you doing to get a small axe to the face?”
“We were kids, playing in the woods. I had a dog back then named Ruffy.”
I smiled. “Ruffy, that’s a good name.”
“He was a good dog. Some of the kids—not my brothers—but some of the kids were playing, and they weren’t playing nice with Ruffy. I didn’t much care for that. So, I stepped up to one of the kids—older kid, mean kid—and I told him to stop. So”—he pointed to his scar— “I have a little souvenir of the encounter.”
