The Reunion, page 13
He didn’t know what to say. He took a long sip of his latte and looked at his watch. “I probably need to get back to my room. I want to call my son before it gets too late.”
She knew their time would end once they started talking about Aaron Miller. She stood up, and Dave looked in her eyes, the same way he had before . . . before they’d gotten on this subject.
“Karen, I . . . I don’t know how to say this. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m flying out of here tomorrow, I’d never be this bold.”
“What is it?”
“I’d really like to see you again.”
“You would?”
“I really would. I’m not flying out till late in the morning. Do you suppose . . . would you consider meeting me somewhere for breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“You would?”
“Yes, I definitely would.”
He smiled a wonderful smile. But what was she thinking? This couldn’t go anywhere. He was leaving tomorrow.
He gently took her hand, but not like a handshake, more like someone about to ask for a dance. “I’ve got to go. I’m really glad I met you, Karen, even if I don’t wind up finding Aaron.”
“I really enjoyed this too,” she said.
He smiled. “If anything else about your dad, you know, Aaron Miller, pops into your head, will you let me know?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“And tomorrow, before I leave, I’d definitely like to get your email address.”
“All right.”
He turned and walked her out to her car. She thought about what her brother said about coming over at Thanksgiving, that she could “bring a friend” if she wanted. Thanksgiving was the day after tomorrow. How she wished Dave lived in town. She would definitely invite him. But he didn’t. He lived in Florida, over a thousand miles away.
It might just as well have been a million.
29
The next morning, Dave drove to a nearby Cracker Barrel to meet Karen for breakfast. This trip was turning out better than he could have imagined. He still had no idea where Aaron Miller was, but he’d found Aaron’s children. That was huge. And he was from Florida. That didn’t mean he was still there, or even that he was still alive, but it was a solid lead. For now, it meant he could ignore all the other Aaron Millers in the remaining forty-nine states.
But the biggest deal by far was meeting Karen. He had the hardest time falling asleep last night, just thinking about her. And he woke up thinking about her. He was obviously attracted to her, but that was no surprise. She was beautiful. But this was something more. The longer he thought about it, the more certain he’d become—and he knew now it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been thinking about Anne just before Karen walked into Chili’s.
Dave hadn’t felt these feelings for anyone else but Anne.
That had to mean something.
As he pulled into the parking lot, he was keenly aware that this breakfast—at least for him—was more a date than official business. Karen had already said she didn’t know where her father was and couldn’t remember anything significant about him. She had said yes to meeting Dave this morning without hesitation. And it had nothing to do with talks about Aaron Miller. She had to be interested in him on some level.
So . . . it was a date. He had no idea what they would talk about. He got out of the car and left his pad and pen on the front seat. He walked into the store side of Cracker Barrel, which was decorated for Thanksgiving, and found Karen standing in front of a display of bowls and platters. “Karen,” he said from behind her.
She turned, and her eyes seemed to light up. “Hi, Dave.”
They stood there a moment, as if unsure what to do next. Shake hands? Hug?
“Are you browsing or shopping?” he said.
“I’m trying to find something to bring to Steve’s house tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Just a little present for his wife, Aileen.”
“You need a little more time to decide?”
“No, we can go in. I know you’ve got to get to the airport. I can walk around some more after you leave.”
They walked to the hostess. Fortunately, there was no wait. A waitress brought them water and coffee, and they small-talked awhile as they read the menus. She ordered oatmeal and an apple bran muffin. He ordered Uncle Herschel’s Favorite. “Somebody’s hungry,” she said.
“I am, but I’m also not sure when, or if, I’ll get to eat lunch.”
“Do you like to travel?”
“I used to. Not anymore.” Then he had an odd thought. Maybe that was the wrong answer. If they were going to have any chance of a relationship, he’d have to travel; they lived in different states. Then a more rational thought: You’re being ridiculous. This is breakfast; we’re not in a relationship. “I mean, I used to do it all the time in some of my other reporting jobs. Now I only travel a little.” He thought something else and decided to just say it. “I’m very glad I made this trip.”
She smiled. “I am too.” She sipped her coffee. “Sorry I didn’t have more to tell you about my dad. Steve called me this morning. He wanted to hear all about last night.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I enjoyed meeting you, but that there wasn’t much to say . . . about our dad, I mean. He’s so fired up about this Medal of Honor thing. He can’t wait to tell his son Steven. He’s a Marine in Afghanistan.”
“Is he there now?”
“Yes, but he’ll be on leave for Christmas. After that, he’ll be staying in the States.”
“I’m sure a soldier would find it pretty amazing to hear his grandfather won the Medal of Honor.”
“That’s what Steve said. I asked him if Steve Jr. even knew about his other grandfather. All he’s ever known is Mark Rafferty, the father who raised us.”
“What did he say?”
“My brother said he did talk about our birth father a little, back when his son signed up for the Marines. All he knew was that he’d fought in Vietnam and got seriously wounded. Not much else.”
“I guess that must be a little strange.”
“It is. We never talk about him. Do you ever think about your dad?”
“I have lately. Quite a lot. But before I got going on this book project, hardly ever. So, I think I understand what you’re saying.”
The waitress came with their food. Dave didn’t think it wise to suspend the “don’t talk with your mouth full” rule like he had with John Lansing, so they continued talking in between bites and swallows of oatmeal and eggs. The conversation shifted to more conventional topics. The kinds of things you talk about when you’re on a date.
He loved talking with her; it was the easiest thing in the world. She wanted to know some more details about growing up in Chicago, what it was like being a reporter, did Jake have a girlfriend, did he know where Jake was going to college or what he wanted to do when he graduated. He wanted to know some more about her favorite books and movies, did she have any friends at church, what she liked to do on her time off.
When they had finished their meal, the question Dave wanted to ask most of all was: When can I see you again? If he lived in Fort Worth, that was what he’d ask. Or even better, Can I see you again tonight for dinner? But what could he say? He looked at his watch.
“I can’t believe your time’s almost over,” she said.
It seemed she wanted to also say, And you have to go. He decided to be bold, at least a little. “Karen, I . . .” He looked right in her eyes then sighed.
“What?”
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. I only came here hoping to find a lead about your dad. But now . . . I don’t want to leave. It almost feels like the real reason I came here . . .” It was way too early to say something like this. But it’s what he felt, strongly.
“Was to meet me?” she said.
He nodded. “I really like you.” He looked away. “Listen to me, it’s like I’m back in fourth grade.”
She laughed. “I like you too, Dave. I do feel like something . . .” Then she stopped, took a breath.
See, he thought, she doesn’t want to say what she’s feeling either. “We’re both being so well-behaved.” He smiled, glanced at his watch. “I really have to go.”
“I know.”
“But I really want to see you again.”
“I’d like that. But . . . how?”
“I don’t know.” The waitress brought the check.
“Here,” she said, and handed him a card. “It’s my business card, but I wrote my cell number and personal email address on the back.”
“That’s a good start.” He pulled a card from his wallet and wrote the same information on the back. He stood up and handed it to her, then grabbed the check.
“How will you spend Thanksgiving?” she said as she stood up.
“Just my mom, Jake, and me. Sometimes she invites a couple of friends from church. But my mom makes the whole spread. We eat leftovers for a week. Jake and I start the day off making fun of the Macy’s Parade.”
She laughed. “Oh, I almost forgot. It’s probably nothing. But Steve reminded me this morning, he’s got a bunch of boxes stored at his house from when my mom passed away. When she first died, we divided up the sentimental things each of us wanted. But there was a box with my father’s name written on it that Steve took. He thought we could look through it together tomorrow when I come over. Maybe we’ll find something you can use in your hunt.”
“That’d be great. Call me if you do. Or . . . even if you don’t find anything.” He smiled. They walked through the double front doors, then stood on the sidewalk out front. “I gotta go.”
“Well, bye,” she said.
They stood there a moment, neither wanting their time together to end but not knowing exactly what to do, so he hugged her. It was more like two relatives hugging or two Christians hugging at church, though he wanted to convey more than that. He took a step back after and just looked at her. “I don’t want to leave.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. As he pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
She smiled.
“Call me tomorrow,” he said and waved as he walked away.
Karen walked through the front door of the model home. She was over thirty minutes late, but she’d already called Gail to let her know. She took off her coat, set her purse on her desk, and walked over to the coffeepot. Gail had been sitting at her desk reading some papers in a black notebook. As Karen carried her mug toward the desk, Gail was sitting back in her chair, staring at her.
“Are you going to tell me?” she said.
“Tell you what?”
“What that look on your face is all about?”
“What look?”
“C’mon, Karen. I know you. I haven’t seen you look this happy coming into work for . . . years.”
Karen laughed and sat down. “It’s . . . nothing. Sort of nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. What’s going on?”
“I may have . . . met someone.”
“Really?” Gail closed the notebook.
“Yes and no. It can never work, though. I’m just being silly.”
“Why can’t it work?”
“It just can’t.”
“Why . . . is he married?”
“No.”
“In jail?”
Karen laughed. “No.”
“Is he . . . the right age?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“He lives in Florida.”
“Okay . . . that’s a wrinkle.”
“It’s more than a wrinkle. It’s four states away.”
“Four states . . . okay, a big wrinkle.”
They looked at each other. “Well,” Gail said, “you know we’re not going to get a single thing done around here until you tell me the whole story, from top to bottom.”
“Okay,” Karen said. “But I don’t see how this can work.” She took a sip of her coffee as an image of Dave flashed through her mind. The moment he kissed her forehead, the look on his face as he stood in front of her. Then a strange thing happened. A deep stirring inside. A flash from someplace else, a memory from somewhere very far away. Far back in time. That’s what her father—her first father, Aaron Miller—used to do before bed every night. Lean over and kiss her on the forehead, just like Dave had done.
“Karen? Hello . . . it’s me, Gail.”
Karen laughed. Her eyes refocused on Gail’s face. “I’m sorry. Okay, the rest of the story.”
“From top to bottom,” Gail said.
30
The normal city buses didn’t run on Thanksgiving Day, but the folks at the outreach center downtown had a fifteen-passenger van at their disposal. Aaron was sitting in it now, along with ten other volunteers who’d just served Thanksgiving dinner to over two hundred people. He looked at his watch. By the look of things, if he waited till the driver dropped everyone off in the right order, he’d be late getting back to the trailer park. He sat one row back from the driver so he leaned forward and said, “Hey, Joe, wonder if you can do me a favor?”
“Sure, Aaron, if I can.”
“Any chance you could alter your route here and get me back home pretty quick? I’ve got this second Thanksgiving thing at my church I’ve got to get to, and I don’t think I’ll make it otherwise.”
The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Gosh, Aaron, I’d like to, but I’m not sure I can. The director gave me this route to follow, and I better stick to it.” Then he leaned back in his seat and said quietly, “And I’m thinking some of these people might get upset if I drove right past where they live and skipped to your place. Your trailer park is the farthest out.”
Aaron sat back in his seat. Another Vietnam vet named Drew sat next to him. “Say, Aaron, I wouldn’t mind if you skipped my place if you’re in a hurry. Our family dinner’s not till five-thirty. What time’s the church event?”
“Four-thirty,” Aaron said. “Thing is, they’re sending a special van to pick me and a friend up at four. He’s a vet too. Lost his legs to a Bouncing Betty. I just got him talked into coming with me. There’s no way he’d go on his own. So if our church van stops by the trailer park and I ain’t there . . .”
“Let me see what I can do.” Drew turned around to face everyone. “Hey, everybody, listen up. Aaron here’s in a bit of a hurry. He’s got a church event he needs to get to, another Thanksgiving dinner, kind of an outreach thing, and they’re sending a special handicap van out to his trailer park. He’s got a friend who’s agreed to go to this thing, but he won’t go if Aaron’s not on that van. Anybody have anyplace they’ve got to be in the next twenty minutes?”
“You mean, are we okay if Joe takes him home first, then backtracks?”
“That’s about it,” Drew said.
“I’m okay with that.”
In a few moments, everyone else weighed in the same. “Whatta you think, Joe? Can you head over to Aaron’s place next?”
“Sure. I’m just here to serve. If that’s what y’all want, I’m game.”
“There you go, Aaron.”
“Appreciate that, Drew.” He turned around to face the rest. “Thank you, everyone, means a lot.”
“What’s this fellow’s name anyway?” Drew said.
“Billy Ames,” said Aaron. “He’s a hard nut to crack, but he seems to be coming around.”
“Well, I’ll be praying for him.”
About twenty minutes later, the van pulled into Bentley’s Trailer Park and let Aaron off. He waved and hurried to his storage room. Didn’t see the church van anywhere. When he got inside, he checked himself in the mirror. Wasn’t much could be done; didn’t see too many hairs out of place. He glanced over at the faded picture of his kids sitting on top of his little metal box. How were they spending this day? Did they spend it together? He didn’t even know how many grandkids he had, if any.
Well, he needed to stop this right now. Thoughts like these didn’t lead down a thanksgiving road. After washing his face and hands, he locked up and hurried over to Billy’s trailer. “Lord,” he muttered, “please don’t let him chicken out.” He knocked on the door just as the church van pulled up to the park office. Tess barked a few times.
“That you, Aaron?”
“It’s me, Billy.” The door opened. “Look at you.”
“Whatta you mean, look at you?”
“Your hair . . . it’s all . . .” He thought to say clean. And combed.
“Oh stop.”
Aaron sniffed the air. “You wearing cologne?”
“Just a few sprays. Would you stop?” He looked to the side, around Aaron. “That the van?”
“It just got here.” Aaron turned. “Let me go wave at him so he’ll come over here.”
“I don’t mind riding there.”
Aaron started walking. “Just come on down the ramp. He won’t mind.” Aaron got the driver’s attention and motioned for him to head over. When he turned around he saw Billy had eased out the front door.
Billy was hugging Tess’s neck, then patted her head. “You can’t come this time, girl. You got to stay here and watch the place. I’ll see if they won’t let me bring you home something. Now, you go on.” Tess backed up and Billy closed the door. He met Aaron at the bottom of the ramp. “Say, Aaron, you think they might let me take home a little bit of turkey and stuffing for Tess?”
The van pulled up. “I think they might. They usually have leftovers they let the workers take home. Tess can have mine. How’d your day go so far?”
“We had a good day overall. Watched the Macy’s Parade together, and then it turns out they have this National Dog Show right after. She sat right beside me, eyes glued to the TV. I could tell she was watching.”
Aaron smiled as the van door opened. He had never seen Billy so upbeat.
“Mom, you’re killing me. This smell. When are we going to eat?” Dave Russo walked into the kitchen, peered over his mother’s shoulder. She was stirring homemade mashed potatoes. The turkey had been roasting in the oven for hours.
