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I was looking for
my dad and maybe all the things that come naturally to girls with fathers, like
stability, confidence, and a sense of purpose in life.
Of course, none of
this was new—although the location was. I'd been looking for my father for as
long as I realized that most people have one. One hundred percent of people on
EARTH have fathers, but only 2% have green eyes. I don't actually know if my
dad has green eyes. I'm only guessing because my mom has blue eyes and red
hair—another rarity, by the way. It is possible my dad had pink eyes, like an
albino. I wouldn't know because Mom refused to talk about him, and she didn't
have any pictures of him. Mom called him the sperm donor. It's all well and
good for her to be demeaning—he hadn't contributed her DNA, after all.
Thunder sounded,
and rain began to fall in fat drops. Petrichor, the smell of hot, wet cement,
floated through the windows. My phone buzzed with a text. I expected to see
another picture of Andrea and Piper in front of Snow White's Castle or the
Matterhorn, but instead, it was a message from Mom.
'YOU'RE MAKING A
MISTAKE,' she wrote. 'HE'LL ONLY HURT YOU.' Had someone told her where I was?
Impossible. I hadn't told anyone of my detour from the theme parks and beaches…
had I? Maybe Aunt Jess had let it slip that I'd been pouring over her
scrapbooks the Sunday before my trip.
My phone buzzed
again. This time it was a picture of Andrea, Piper, and two guys they must have
found in Downtown Disney. My friends looked goofy but happy with their arms
wrapped around the strangers. Neither of the men had blond hair or green eyes,
so I dismissed them. There was only one man I was interested in meeting.
Bo Hovde. No one
else mattered.
Beau, of course,
means beauty in the Romance languages. I didn't know what Bo stood for—other
than the acronym for body odor. I wondered if he even knew I existed. Mom
hadn't been forthcoming about that information, either.
It was easier to
believe my father had been ignorant as opposed to indifferent to my existence.
Somehow, his being clueless was a lot less painful than his simply not caring.
Blooper was another name Mom had for him. That hurt because if you carried out
that train of thought, it meant I was also a slip-up. Someone who should have
never been born. Someone who shouldn't be sitting outside a Stater Brothers and
waiting for a blond, green-eyed, Nordic-looking man to dart through the rain in
search of his car—but not his daughter.
I put my car in
gear and turned on the windshield wipers. I would drive by his house one more
time. Maybe this time, he'd answer.
#
Piper pulled her
Rav4 up to the curb of my house and shot me a glance in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out as you had hoped.”
“We still had a
great time, though, right?” Andrea glanced up from her phone. She’d been
texting the guy she’d met at Downtown Disney nonstop ever since we’d left him
at the airport. If she didn’t stop soon, she’d get a cramp in her thumbs.
Rain splashed on
the windshield and I pulled on my hoodie before gathering up my bags. “Thanks,
guys. You’re the best.”
“No, you are,”
Piper said.
“I thought I was
the best,” Andrea laughed.
I said goodbye,
climbed out into the rain, and slammed the door behind me. Mom met me at the
door. I knew as soon as I saw her face something had happened. She wrapped her
arms around me and held me tight.
“How was your
trip?” She scanned my face.
Buster frolicked
around my ankles, and I bent to scratch between his ears. “I didn’t find him,
if that’s what you’re asking.”
She relaxed a
fraction and closed the door behind me. The warm air surrounded me and I
relaxed.
“Really, Mom. How
bad can he be?”
She blew out a
sigh. “You don’t know him—”
“And you would
like to keep it that way.”
She blinked. “It
seems I can’t protect you forever.” She held out an envelope. It wavered
between us.
“What’s this?” I
dropped my suitcase at the foot of the stairs and took the letter to read the
return address. Who sends snail mail these days? Lynch and Merrill, attorneys
at law in Mount Vernon, Washington, that’s who.
“Your father’s
mother has died and you’re a beneficiary in her will.” She shrugged and didn’t
look the least apologetic. “I opened it.”
I turned the
letter over in my hands, taking note of the ragged tear on one edge. “Isn’t
there some sort of law about tampering with the mail?”
“That’s a question
for Lynch and Merrill.” Mom took a steadying breath. “You know what they say,
an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
I didn’t know how
to respond to that. I thought about pointing out the obvious that my father was
one of the two trees in my life. Mom, like me, was a nurse and should have a
reasonable grasp on biology, although she really should have been thinking about
that twenty-two years ago when she and my father got together.
Without another
word, I tucked the letter into my shirt pocket, gathered up my suitcase and
headed for my room. Buster wiggled after me.
I had lived in
this house my entire life. I knew which stairs squeaked and which electrical
outlets worked. Piper and Andrea had been bugging me to move in with them.
Sometimes I thought about it, but living with Mom had its perks. Free rent.
Free food. Plus, it was blissfully quiet every evening because Mom went to bed
around ten. But privacy was in short supply.
I kicked my door
shut behind Buster, dropped my suitcase on the floor of my closet, and plopped
onto the bed to re-read the letter from my maternal grandmother’s attorneys.
Dear Miss Whiting,
We regret to
inform you of Olivia Hovde’s passing. You are a beneficiary in her will. You
will find an enclosed note drafted just prior to her death.
Sincerely,
Kyle Lynch,
attorney at law
I glanced over the
second sheet of paper.
My dear Mercedes,
Not knowing you
has been the greatest regret of my life. I hope you’ll accept my gift with all
the love I have to offer. Circumstances kept us apart, but not even death can
separate you from my mother’s heart.
Mother’s heart?
What does that mean?
You will find the
deed to my house along with the keys at a safety deposit box at Skagit
Community Bank. Ask to speak to Clifton Meyers, the branch manager. Everything
should be in order, and he’s expecting you.
A house? I had a
house? My heart fluttered with excitement, and a twinge of resentment and
regret that I had never met my grandmother. I returned to her letter.
My attorney, Kyle
Lynch, can assist you in transferring my home to your name. My hope is that
you’ll grow to love it as much as I do and that you’ll choose to raise your
family there—just as I had done—and that you'll do your best to make sure it
stays in the family. But please, if the time comes when personal or family
concerns mean that it makes sense to sell it, do so with a light heart -- and
knowing that it's just what I would have done.
Farewell, my dear.
I pray that in another day and time, we can be more than friends.
Much love,
Gladys Hovde
I dug out my
phone. It had died sometime between the airport and home. The moon peeked
through the curtains, reminding me that attorneys and bank managers would most
likely be enjoying their dinners, wearing slippers, and watching TV. I would
have to wait until business hours to call.
I mentally ran
through the next day’s agenda. As an at home nurse, I had some flexibility. Not
all of my patients had a firm grasp on their time, although a few of the
sharper ones possessed military-like precision, their days being regulated by
the timing of their favorite soap operas. I flipped open my calendar.
Tomorrow’s party started with Gloria’s bath at nine, followed by Mrs.
Gladwell’s weekly hair appointment at the Silver Scissors at eleven. If Gloria
wasn’t feeling too chatty, I could call the attorneys before picking up Mrs.
Gladwell.
A knock sounded on
my door, and Mom poked her head in. “Do you want to talk?”
I eyed Mom. She’d
never wanted to talk about my father before. Would she now? I considered giving
her the same treatment she’d always given me whenever I tried to raise
questions about my dad and blowing her off, but thought better of it.
“I have a house,”
I announced. The words felt strange and foreign in my mouth.
“I know.”
“Do you know where
it is?”
Mom shook her
head. “I never met your father’s family.”
Mom strode into
the room, sat on the bed, folded her hands and dropped them between her knees.
“The reason I haven’t been the most…” she paused, as if struggling to find the
right word, “forthcoming about my relationship with your father is I
was...am,” she corrected herself and bit her lip before admitting,
“embarrassed. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger.” She reached out to
pat my leg. “Not that you were a mistake. You are, by far, the best thing that
ever happened to me.” She swallowed and raised her gaze to meet mine. “I want
you to know that.” Her lips quivered and she pressed her fingers against them.
“I know, Mom.” I
sagged against her. I appreciated all she’d done for me. Being a single mom had
to have been hard, and she had always been devoted to me. But maybe it
shouldn’t have been so difficult. Maybe if she had let my father and his mother
be more a part of my life, she wouldn’t have had to do everything on her own.
“God can always
create beauty in ashes.” Mom rested her cheek on the top of my head and wrapped
an arm around me. “You are the blessing that came from that dark time. I love
you so much, and even though you’re here now, I’m terrified of losing you.”
I pulled away to
look at her face. “How will you lose me? I work for you. I live in your
house.” Although, I realized with a
jolt, that would change. Did I want to move to California? It was a fun place
to visit, but could I afford to live there even if the house was free?
Mom blinked away
tears. An odd thought hit me. I turned over the envelope in my hands and read
the return address. Mount Vernon. As in Skagit Valley County. Mount Vernon was
in our league. In high school, I had played soccer there a dozen times.
I raised my gaze
back up to meet hers. “Why would my grandmother’s attorneys be in Mount
Vernon?”
Mom picked at her
fingernails.
“I thought you met
my dad in California.”
“I did.”
“The senior class
trip to Disneyland?”
“That’s where we
met. I didn’t mention that he was from…around here.”
I huffed out a
breath. “When are you going to start telling me the truth?”
“Now.” Mom stuck
out her chin as if she expected me to punch it. “It’s time. You’re an adult.”
“Did he rape you?”
“No. I’m sorry if
I made you think that. It was definitely consensual. I was just young and dumb,
and your father was handsome in a bad boy sort of way. And you know my parents.
So devout. So strict.” She lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “I thought he
loved me. When he rode off with his biker band, I thought he would take me with
him. Instead, he just disappeared.”
“To Mount Vernon?”
My voice squeaked with surprise. Mount Vernon was famous for its tulip fields.
Not biker bands.
“I’m not really
sure where he went,” Mom admitted. “The internet really wasn’t much of a thing
back then.” I nodded because my grandparents still had a spotty internet
connection and almost no cell service. If I wanted to send a text from their
house, I had to go outside, stand on a hill overlooking their farm, hold my
phone in the air, and pray my text wouldn’t be picked up by a Canadian
satellite.
“And, of course,
he was never one for social media.” Mom gazed at the rain streaking down the
windowpane.
“Is his name
really Bo?”
Mom shook her
head. “It’s Beauregard.”
“Mom!”
“He’s not a nice
person. I was simply trying to protect you.”
I slapped my knee
with the attorney’s letter. “I’m probably going to meet him. If I inherited my
grandmother’s house, don’t you think he’s going to try to contest it?”
“That depends on
where he’s at.”
“It’s a house—”
Mom cut in. “He
has all the sentimentality of a rock. And he might be in prison,” she added
with a hopeful lilt in her voice.
I shook my head.
“Has it ever occurred to you that he might have changed?”
“People like him
don’t change.”
“You’ve changed.”
Mom rocked back as
if I’d slapped her.
I pointed at her
chest. “You admitted you fell in love with my father because he was exactly the
sort of person your parents would hate.”
She dipped her
chin, which I took as an admission of guilt.
“And yet, for as
long as I can remember, we’ve been going to dinner at Grandma’s after church
every Sunday.”
Mom bit her lower
lip. “I thought your grandparents would kick me out when they found out I was
pregnant. Instead, they helped me graduate from a home-study program and took
care of you so I could go to nursing school.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not
sure, but I suspect Grandpa pulled some strings to get me hired at Bellingham
General.”
I didn’t argue
with her.
“I owe them so
much.” Her voice broke. “Like I said, I was young and dumb, and your dad…” She
swallowed, and her expression lightened. “Maybe he has changed. I mean, I
haven’t seen him since the night I told him I was pregnant.” She threw her arms
around me and pulled me into another tight hug. She smelled of her
lavender-scented shampoo. “Whatever happens, whatever that house looks like, it
can only be good news because you deserve nothing but the best.” She sounded as
if she was trying to convince herself. “When are you going to see it?”
“I have a full day
tomorrow.”
Mom shook her
head. “Celeste can continue to cover for you.”
“Oh, Mom, are
you—”
"She’ll be
glad for the extra hours. In fact, I already spoke to her about it."
“You did?” My
voice cracked. I should be grateful, but somehow, this rankled.
Mom nodded. “We
can go tomorrow, first thing.”
Technically, there
were six words in that sentence, but I only heard one: we.
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