The Letter - Chapter 8

I took a sip of my tea.  Beverly nibbled the end of her lady lock and smiled expectantly.

“Well, let’s have it Ellie.  Tell me what’s been bothering you.”

I took another sip of tea and sighed.  “OK.  I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“The beginning is a good place to start,” Beverly said.  “God, I love these pastries!” she said taking a bite.  “Sorry, please go ahead.”

“All right.  So I guess I was feeling a little lonely.  I mean, Jim’s death devastated me, but I thought I had dealt with it pretty well.  Then recently the loneliness hit me.  Jim Junior is a doctor living in Cleveland, the rest of my family is still in Pittsburgh and here I am living thousands of miles from anyone.”

“And I love you, too, neighbor,” Beverly snarked.

“Oh, Beverly, you know what I mean, and I’d absolutely die if I didn’t have you here.  But anyway, I decided to call Marnie, my sister in Pittsburgh, and cry on her shoulder a bit.  When I complained of being lonely, she immediately invited me to fly out for a visit.  I thanked her but told her the thought of Pittsburgh in January is not exactly making me run out to buy a plane ticket.  Then she tells me she heard that George Leskovic just went through a messy divorce, so maybe I ought to hurry out there before he gets taken by someone else.”

Beverly sat back in her chair and gave me a quizzical look.  “Who is George Leskovitz and why haven’t you told me about him before?”

“Leskovic,” I corrected.  Oh this is really ridiculous.  Back in high school he was in one of my classes, and I thought he was dreamy.  I used to write his name and I would try my name with his last name.  Eleanor Leskovic, I’d write.  Over and over.  He was kind of shy, but so was I.  We never talked to each other beyond something like, ‘You dropped your pencil.’  Crazy, huh?” I said with a laugh.

“No, I remember doing that sort of thing in high school.  So did you ever go out with him?”

“No, any romance existed strictly in my mixed-up teenage mind.  But of course, Marnie heard me mooning over him back then and when she recently heard about his divorce from a friend, she thought of me.”

“So that got you thinking about taking that trip to Pittsburgh?”

“Actually, it did make me wonder about him.  Then Marnie started telling me about what a star basketball player my nephew Jeff has become and that now is the time to come watch him play.  This is his senior year and the season will be over in another month or so.  So it’s now or never, so I tell Marnie, ‘Clean out the guest room, I’m coming.’”

“So when do you go?”

“Ha! That’s the part that gets really weird.  I was supposed to fly there last Thursday, and Jeff had a game on Friday.  So about a week before I’m scheduled to fly there, I start thinking about this guy.”

“Boy George?”

“Stop it,” I said smiling.  “Yes George from high school.  So I write a letter to him and invite him to come to the game and coffee afterwards.”

“Very nice.  I approve.”

“But then I started to get cold feet.  I mean, this guy is going to think I’m some kind of nut.  He probably doesn’t even remember who I am.”

“Highly unlikely, Eleanor.  You are an unforgettable woman.  This George probably started checking out diamonds online after he read your letter.”

“You’re such a loyal friend, Beverly.  Anyway, I had second thoughts about sending it, so I left it sitting on my desk for a day or two.  Then I woke up one morning just feeling confident and great and said to myself, ‘I am just going to send that letter and if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as me.’ So I stuffed it into the envelope, put a stamp on it and immediately walked to the mailbox on the street corner and dropped it in.”

“Good for you, girl. This is really sounding sweet.”

“Not really.  On my way back from the mailbox a thought hit me.  In my haste to mail the letter, I forgot to sign it. I don’t think I even put a return address on the envelope.”

“God.  What a disaster,” said Beverly drinking the last of her tea.  “But on the other hand,  it could still work out – maybe even better.  He’ll be intrigued and come to that game for sure to see who shows up, right?  Oh, but wait a minute. Did you just say you were supposed to fly there last Thursday? Does that mean you didn’t go?”

“You remember that big snowstorm that hit the Midwest last week.  My flight was cancelled because O’Hare was shut down and remained shut down until Saturday. I couldn’t go.”

“Ooo, Ellie.  I see now why you’re so upset.  If he showed up to see who came, nobody was there.  He either thought he was stood up or it was some sort of vicious prank.”

“Yes, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Well, Ellie dear.  That’s what friends are for.  Put on another kettle of tea and let’s put our heads together and figure this out.  And you haven’t touched your lady lock.  Are you saving it for me?”

“Not a chance, Beverly.  Not a chance,” I said, taking a bite of the flaky, cream-filled pastry.   

The Letter - Chapter 7

This is so crazy!  I can’t believe I am doing this.  Snow was coming down hard.  The roads were wet, but they were getting slick as the snow started to stick.  I should be ok once I get to the main roads, but this looks like a pretty serious storm.  They’re saying four to six inches, but most of that is supposed to fall after midnight. I drove as fast as I dared given the treacherous conditions. What should have been a twenty minute drive looked like it might take forty-five or more.

And what kind of punishment should I give Jennifer?  I mean, what could have gotten into her to pick up my letter and then not give it back right away.  I do have to give her credit for owning up to her mistake before it was too late.  Of course, the way it’s snowing, it may already be too late.  I turned onto the main road and it was clear of snow.  Then I saw the long line of tail lights about five hundred yards up the road. 

“Shit!  Look at that line of cars,” I said out loud.  I gave the steering wheel a good whack. I considered turning onto a side road and turning on the GPS to help me find an alternate route.  No, I’m better off going the way I know.  Knnowing the hills of Pittsburgh and the way it’s snowing, I’d probably get stuck somewhere and never get there.  I saw flashing lights up ahead.  Just my luck.  An accident. 

I got in place behind the last car, hoping the accident would clear quickly.  I checked my watch.   Quarter to eight.  I tried to think.  How long is a basketball game anyhow?  Are there quarters and a halftime like in football?  If so, how long are they?  I tried to think back to high school – probably the last time I attended a basketball game.

“That would be a mere forty-five years ago,” I chuckled to myself.  It could be 8:30 before I get there.  The game might be over by then.  Anyway, what the hell am I doing?  Running off like some desperate school boy to see a woman that I haven’t seen in forty-five years.  And I don’t even know who she is. 

I looked at the cars ahead of me.  Cars were starting to move slowly.  Either the accident had cleared or the police were letting cars pass. 

She said we were classmates.  We had nearly 400 in our class if I remember correctly.  And she said we were only in one class together. How in the hell am I supposed to recognize her, let alone how will she recognize me?  People change in forty-five years.  Why would she write to me?  And not sign her name.  The only thing I can figure is she must be desperate.  Probably old, gray and weighs like 300 pounds.  Why else would she be trying to meet?  Her husband’s dead.  She probably drove him to the grave.

I passed the scene of the accident.  The car was on the side of the road, hitched to a tow truck.  No one appeared to be injured, thank God.  My thoughts returned to the letter.  Well, if nothing else, it piqued my curiosity.  Of course there’s that saying that ‘curiosity killed the cat.’  But no one is saying I have to marry whoever this is.  It’s just a chance to say ‘hi’ to an old classmate and chat over a cup of coffee.  And the way it’s snowing, we may have to take a raincheck on the coffee.  Or would that be a snowcheck?

I turned onto the road that would take me to the high school.  About another mile.  I looked at my watch.  Twenty past eight.  I hope I haven’t missed it.  I turned into the school parking lot.  Still full of cars.  The game must not be over yet.  I parked and ran to the school lobby.

“Is the game still on?  Can I get a ticket?” I asked the two students that were sitting behind a table in the lobby outside the gymnasium.  I heard a loud buzzer and the crowd inside cheered.

“Sounds like it just ended,” the female student with the frizzy red hair said.  We were ahead by 20 with a couple of minutes left.” 

Yeah, we creamed Steel Valley.  This will put us in first place,” said her male counterpart with the slicked back hair.

People started filing out of the gym.  I looked at the mass of people filling the lobby to see if I recognized anyone.  I positioned myself near the main exit thinking maybe she would recognize me and introduce herself.  The lobby slowly emptied until I was the only one there except for the custodian and the students that had been selling tickets.  I walked over to the students. 

“Hi.  My name is George Leskovic.  Is it possible that someone left a message for me?”

“You mean with us?” asked the kid with the slicked back hair.  “Not that I know of.”

“Me neither,” said the girl.  “I guess someone could have left a message with Cherry.  She sells candy at half time.  But she probably would have told me or Jared.”

“OK, thanks.”

“Hey mister,” said the red haired girl. “Here’s a schedule in case you want to come to a future game.”

I took the paper she handed me and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.  “Thanks.  Looks like the snow storm has taken a break,” I said looking out the glass doors.  “That’s probably a signal to all of us to get home while the gettin’ is good.”

I walked to the car.  The parking lot was almost empty.  I got in and drove back home.

  

The Letter - Chapter 6

“Just shoot me, Liz!  Go ahead and get your dad’s gun and put me out of my misery.”  I flopped down on my best friend’s bed.  Liz followed me into her bedroom.

“Jennifer, what on earth is wrong with you?”

“I am in the deep dark depths of despair.”

“That’s good alliteration.  I should write that down for our English assignment,” said Liz.

“Don’t tease me.  I’m miserable.  Has anyone invented a time machine?”

“I’ll Google it.  What year do you want to go back to?”

“Just three days,” I groaned.  “Three days is all I need!  How could I have been so ridiculously stupid?”

Liz sat down on the edge of the bed.  “Sounds like you can use a good hug.”  I sat up. Liz wrapped her arms around me and patted me on the back.  “Now is that a little better?”

“No.  Well, OK,” I allowed.  “Maybe a little better.  Thanks.”  I stood up and walked over to the bedroom’s wall.  “Would your parents mind if I banged my head against your wall?”

“Alright, Jennifer, that’s enough drama.  Save it for your big role in the senior class play.”  Liz stood up and walked to her desk.  “I’ve got homework to do.  If you want to tell me what’s bothering you, I’m here to listen.  Otherwise, go home.  Your dad will be wondering why you’re late.”

“I texted him to let him know I stopped at your place.  Anyway, I can never go home again.”  I walked back to the bed and sat down.

“Jennifer, you’re being ridiculous.  What is this all about?”

“OK, here it is.  But you can’t tell a soul.”

“Jennifer, I’m your best friend.  You know you can trust me.”

“OK.  Three days ago I went home after school and my dad wasn’t there.”

“Abducted by aliens?”

“Seriously, Liz.  He was out helping my Uncle Bob with something, but that doesn’t matter.  Anyway, I walked into the kitchen and the mail was on the kitchen table.  On top was a letter addressed to my dad – from a woman.”

“Your mother?”

“No, not my mother.”

“A new girlfriend?”

“God, maybe.  But I think I destroyed any chance of that.”

“What on earth did you do?”

I groaned and lay back on the bed.  “My first mistake was that I didn’t put the letter down and forget I ever saw it. Instead, I started to read it.  When I realized it could be a girlfriend, I got even more curious and took it upstairs to my room.  But before I could read it, my Dad came home.”

“OMG!  What did you do then?”

“I panicked.  I hid the letter and ran down to see him, trying to act as innocent as I could.”

“Did he say anything about it?  I mean, he must have wondered what happened to it.

“No, he didn’t ask me about it.  He started cooking dinner and I went upstairs to do my homework.  But I could hear him looking for it and when I came back downstairs, he was outside looking for it in the car.  But he never even asked me if I’d seen the letter.  It was like he figured he had just misplaced it.”

“So then what did you do?”

“Well, I sure couldn’t tell him I’d taken it.”

“Yeah, you would have been so grounded!”

“No, worse.  I would have died of embarrassment. Don’t you see?  He’d never suspect I’d take a letter meant for him.  He trusts me.  If I had confessed, I’d have lost his trust.”

“Couldn’t you have just put it where he would find it?”

“Think, Liz!  He had searched everywhere.  Only the two of us live there since Mom abandoned us.  If the letter materialized somewhere, he would know that I put it there.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I was too upset to try to read it when Dad was in the house.  So I planned to take it to school, figuring maybe I’d just pitch it if it wasn’t important.  But Wednesday morning I was running late, and forgot to take the letter with me.  That evening Dad decided to take us out to dinner, and I sort of forgot about it until this morning.  I did remember to take it today.”

“Well, spill the beans.  What did it say?”

“I wasn’t able to read the letter until I was coming home on the late activities bus.  We had play rehearsal all afternoon and after school.”

Really? On a Friday?”

“Yeah, well, we open next Thursday, and a lot of kids still don’t know their lines.  And we’re helping build the set.  Anyway, I finally read it on the late bus and then stopped here so you could shoot me – unless you’ve got that time machine.”

“All right, Jen,” said Liz.  “You wait here and I’ll get my father’s rifle. My time machine is in the shop for repairs.  Seriously, are you going to tell me what’s in that letter, or keep me in suspense forever?”

I sat up on the bed and faced my friend.  “I’m sorry.  OK. It was pretty bland to start.  ‘A lot of time has passed since we were in high school together, blah, blah, blah – that sort of thing.”

“OK?  I’m not going to get my dad’s gun based on that.”

“Then it gets more complicated.  She heard from a friend about Dad’s divorce.  She says that her husband died – so it is clear we’re talking about a woman.”

“Hey, it’s 2017.  You never know.”

“C’mon, Liz.  These are old people we’re talking about.  So she says she knows how painful it can be to lose a spouse – not that Mom’s dead or anything.”

“Just dead to your father.”

“Yeah, pretty much.  So she’s not coming right out and saying it, but it sounds like she’s making a play for my dad – in a real subtle way.  She says she’s thinking about moving back to Pittsburgh, because she still has family here and her son is a doctor in Cleveland.”

“Yeah, I’d say she’s subtle – very subtle, maybe even extremely subtle, said Liz.

“Stop it, Liz.  That’s not funny.  But then she writes that she’s planning a visit to Pittsburgh real soon.  She says her nephew plays basketball for their old alma mater and she’s planning to take in a game during her visit.”

“Wow!  How romantic,” Liz said sarcastically.

“That’s not the point.  She says maybe Dad can come to the game for old time’s sake, and they can meet and catch up over coffee afterward.”

“Well, that actually sounds very nice,” said Liz.  No pressure.  Just coffee and a chat.  Kind of check each other out and see what the ravages of time have done to each of them.”

“Yeah, but that game is tonight!”  Jennifer looked at her phone.  “And it starts in about five minutes!”

“Oh no!”  said Liz.  She thought for a moment.  “Well, maybe your dad actually read the letter and is at the game, holding hands and gazing into the eyes of your mystery lady.”

“I thought of that too, so I called him when I was on the activity bus to see what his plans were for this evening.  He told me he was planning to stay home and watch a movie.”

“Hmm.  Well, maybe he read the letter, figured out who it was, and decided he didn’t want to accept her offer.”

“I don’t think so.  When he was desperately looking for it, and I asked him about it, he told me he had just started reading it when he had to leave to help my uncle.”

“So what are you going to do now?  If you show your Dad the letter, he might still have time to make it to the game.  Where is his old high school?”

“It’s Thomas Jefferson.”

“That’s only like twenty minutes from here.  If you go home and show him the letter, he could be there by halftime.”

“But if I show it to him, he will be so upset with me.”

“Look, Jen.  This is not all about you,” said Liz.  You’re screwing with your Dad’s life here – and this woman’s life – whoever she is.  Maybe she’s your future stepmother, or maybe she’s just a cup of coffee and some conversation, but it’s not your job to keep it from happening just because your dad may get upset at you for reading his mail.”

“If he never knows about it, what’s the harm in that?”

“Well, that’s your choice, Jennifer.  Confess and bear the consequences or be a jerk and destroy the letter.  Now, I love you, you’re my best friend, but go home, because I’ve got a ton of homework and I’ve got to get it done tonight.  My cousins from Philadelphia are coming tomorrow and staying till Sunday, and we’ve got a lot of family stuff planned.”

“So you think I should show my dad the letter?”

“Yes, Jennifer.  You heard what I said.  Now go home and talk to your dad – or not – it’s your choice.  Either way, don’t blame me for whatever happens – or doesn’t.  Oh, and by the way, my dad got rid of his gun years ago, and I honestly don’t have a time machine.”

“Thanks for letting me know.  And thanks for listening.  I feel a little better. I’d better hurry home.”  I gave Liz a quick hug and ran down the steps and out the front door.

A Winter's (Tall) Tale

On a cold, blustery March afternoon, I was babysitting my six-year old grandson who was staring out the front window with a bored look on his face.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested.

“No, Grampa.  It’s too cold!  I really wish winter was over.”  He flopped down on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling.

“Winter is over, young man.  Yesterday was the first day of spring,” I observed.

“Well, it still feels like winter, Grampa.  And it’s lasting too long.  When’s it going to get warm?  I want to go swimming.”

“See here, grandson.  This is just a typical March day.  And this year’s winter was hardly fit to be called a winter.  Let me tell you boy, when I was young, we had some real winters – not like the wimpy ones we’ve had since you were born.”

“Tell me about them, Grampa.”

“Well, let me think for a minute.  Oh yeah.  I remember the winter of 1972.  Now that was a real doozy – a winter to beat all winters.”

“What was it like?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, the snow started falling around Thanksgiving and it didn’t let up until Easter Sunday.  I was in college at the time.  It snowed so much that it piled up past the third floor window of my dormitory.”

“Wow!”

“Yes sir, young man.  With that much snow you’d think they would have cancelled classes, but they didn’t.  So we made tunnels through the snow, and they connected all the buildings on campus.  Then we’d strap on skis and go whooshing through those tunnels to wherever we needed to go.”

“Really?!”

“You better believe it.  In college you’ve got to pay for classes, so we didn’t want to miss any.  In fact, we built a second layer of tunnels on top of the first in order to get to classes that were on the second floor.  Those tunnels were reserved for sleds and toboggans.  If you had a class on the third floor, you had to put on snow shoes so you could walk on top of that huge accumulation of white stuff.”

“Was it cold like it is today?” my grandson asked looking back out the window.

“Hrumph.  My boy, you can’t be serious.  As cold as it is today, it can’t come close to how cold it was back then.  I’ll tell you, the temperature never got above zero that whole winter.  It was so cold that when you talked to anyone outside, the steam coming out of your mouth would freeze into a bubble, and the words you were speaking would be captured inside it.  You’d actually have to read what the person was saying to you, just like you were reading a comic book.”

The young boy turned to face me.  “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” I said looking right at him.  “And one day it was so cold that the air froze completely solid.  When you opened the door and tried to step outside, you walked into a frozen wall of air and couldn’t get beyond the front door.”

“I think you’re kidding me now,” he looked a tad unsure.

“No, seriously,” I countered.  “And anyone that got caught outside when it happened was unable to move.”  I stood up, took a step and froze to demonstrate.  “I suppose those folks were just held motionless, like fish when a pond freezes solid.  I also remember distinctly that it happened at night, and the moon got stuck where it was in the heavens until it warmed up enough for the air to thaw.”

“So what did everyone do?”

“Well, when it happened they actually had to cancel classes because no one could get out of the buildings where they were living.  And having no classes gave us the perfect excuse to have a huge party.”

“With cake and ice cream?”

“That would have been an excellent idea, but it was so unexpected that we didn’t have a chance to plan it out and get to the store for party supplies.  We went around the dorm to see what everyone was willing to contribute to the party and came up with a bunch of those big, two-liter bottles of soda.  We had ginger ale, orange and cherry soda and root beer.  Unfortunately, the bottles had all been opened, so they’d all gone flat.  Besides that, they were warm because we weren’t allowed to have refrigerators in our rooms back then.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party, Grampa.” 

You’re right about that.  Yes, it was going to be a pretty sad excuse for a party with nothing to drink but warm, flat soda.  But luckily, one of the guys down the hall happened to have a tool box.  He had the bright idea of using a hammer and chisel to break off a few chunks of the frozen air outside to cool our drinks.  I’ll tell you, those drinks turned out to be colder than you can imagine.  And when those air cubes melted, they put the fizz right back in that flat soda!  Yes sir, it turned out to be a great party until the air unfroze and we all had to go back to class.”

“Did it get warm?

”

“Eventually, it warmed up and all the snow melted.  And you know what happens when snow melts?”

“What, Grampa?”

“Why it turns to water, of course.  And all that snow made enough water to flood the whole campus.  So instead of skiing through tunnels of snow, we water skied from our dorms to class.  The college was very cooperative and replaced their shuttle buses with motor boats for the rest of that school year.  They even bought an old steamboat and turned that into the cafeteria.”

Just then the front door opened.

“Grandma!” our grandson reached up to her for a hug.

My wife hugged the boy and turned to me with a wink.  “So what mischief are you two scoundrels up to?” she asked.

“Grampa was telling me about the steamboat cafeteria at his college.”

“Actually, we were just getting our coats so we could go out and enjoy this beautiful spring day. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

“Sure, Grampa - because it’s only a little bit cold outside – nowhere near as cold as it used to be when you were young.  I wish I could have seen those air cubes and the word balloons like you did when you were in college.”

“Air cubes?  Word balloons?  What kind of stories have you been filling this boy’s head with?” my wife put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at me. 

“Never you mind,” I replied.  “The boy and I were just talking about the weather.  Nothing more than that,” I said grabbing my coat and pushing my grandson out the door.  “We’ll be back in a while.  Give my cell phone a ring when it’s time for dinner, honeybunch.”  I waved to my wife as I stepped outside and closed the door behind us.

The Letter - Chapter 5

I finished filling the large pasta pot with water, added a little salt and placed it on the stove.  I turned the burner to high and went back to the pile of mail on the table.  I leafed through each item again, more carefully, looking for a flash of lavender.  It’s not here.  Damn!  I flipped through the paper one more time.  What do they say is a sure sign of insanity?  Doing something over and over and expecting a different result?  But I swear I left it here on the table.  Let me think.  I made tea and sat down to read it.  I had just started reading it when the phone rang.  I got up to answer the phone.  Now did I leave the letter on the table or carry it with me to the phone? 

I walked to the phone in the study and looked around my desk.  I picked up the bills I’d been paying and sifted through them, knowing full well that if it were here, it would most likely be on top of everything else. 

OK, so Bob told me about his car problem and asked me to rescue him.  Maybe I subconsciously stuck it in one of the desk drawers.  I opened each drawer and riffled through the contents hoping I had stuck it in one of them – maybe to keep it away from my teenage daughter’s prying eyes.  No, I didn’t see it in any of them.  I looked around the floor under the desk.  Nothing.

What did I do next?  I went to the closet to get my coat and hat.  Then I picked up my keys from the table by the front door.  No, they weren’t there, and I spent some time walking through the house looking for them.  God, I was all over the place!  And then I found them on the floor under the table and left.  No, that’s not right.  I decided to take my book to read in case we had a long wait and ran out of things to talk about.  I walked to the living room and started to look around the coffee table where my book had been.  Not there either.  I went back to the closet and checked the pockets of my coat. Just my gloves.  I picked up the book and fanned the pages.  Not there.  Could I have taken it to the car?  I picked up my keys and walked outside to check.  As I was rooting around the front seat, I heard Jennifer’s voice from the front door

.

“Dad, is everything OK?  The water’s boiling like crazy.”

“Oh, sorry Jen.  I thought I’d forgotten something in the car.”

“Come in.  You don’t even have your coat on and it’s freezing out there.  Did you find it?”

“No, but don’t worry.  It’s no big deal.”

I locked the car and went back into the house.  Jennifer looked hungry.

“Sorry for the delay.  You know the saying, ‘A watched pot never boils.’  So I figured it would boil faster if I ignored it.  Ha Ha.  Anyway, I’ll get the pasta right in.  Is linguini OK?” I asked.

“Sure, Dad.  Can I get the salad going?  My homework is practically done, and I really am hungry.”

“OK, honey.  Go ahead.”

Jennifer pulled the lettuce out of the refrigerator and start tearing leaves into a salad bowl.  

“So I heard you walking around down here,” she said.  “Were you looking for something?”

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s a letter I got today.  I started reading it, but then Uncle Bob called, and I don’t remember where I put it when I left to meet him.  I’m sure it will turn up.”

“Yeah, sure, Dad.  It’s got to be somewhere.”

“Well, dinner’s ready," I said.  "Let’s eat.”

The Letter - Chapter 4

I unlocked the front door and hurried into the house, stomping my feet.  God, it’s cold out there today!

“Da-ad!  I’m home!  Hello-oh!  Anybody home?”  No answer.  He must have stepped out.  I dropped my backpack, stuffed my hat and gloves in my coat pockets and hung up my coat in the hall closet.  I walked into the kitchen to see if my dad had left a note.  He hadn’t.  No note, no text, no phone call.  I’ll give the old man some flak about that.  He’s always telling me, “I just want to know you’re safe.  It’s courtesy, not control that I ask you to let me know where you are.”

Well, he’s going to hear something from me about courtesy though I have to admit he’s pretty good about letting me know when he’s going to be out.  He must have left in a hurry.

“What’s this?” I said to the empty house.  There was a lavender envelope on top of the stack of mail on the table.  I picked it up.  It was addressed to Dad.  Hmm.  Looks like a woman’s handwriting.  There were folded sheets of lavender stationery under the envelope.  I picked up the stationery and unfolded it.

Dear George,

You may be surprised to be hearing from me after all these years. 

Ooh, this could be juicy.  I slid the letter and envelope into my math book, grabbed a diet cola from the refrigerator and walked upstairs to my bedroom.  I sat down on my bed and pulled out the letter to see who was writing love letters to my father.  I quickly flipped to the last page.

“Fondly,” and no signature.  That really stinks.  Who would write a letter on lavender stationery, in

red ink no less, and then choose not to sign it.  It was definitely a woman.  Lavender stationery, “fondly.”  Yes, definitely a woman.  I sniffed the paper.  A hint of something.  I know that scent, what is it?  God, that’s Wind Song!  That’s what Mom used to wear when I was little.  Sometimes she’d dab a little behind my ears.

For a split second, I thought this might be from Mom.  Maybe she regretted running off with that jerk.  No, it wasn’t her handwriting.

 

“Jennifer!  I’m home.  Where are you?”  My dad had come in the front door.

“In my room, Dad!  Be right down!”

Oh my God, the letter.  What the heck should I do with it?  Dad will have a fit if he finds out I’ve been reading his personal mail.  I panicked and slipped it under the mattress on my bed.  I bounded down the stairs and gave my dad a big hug.  

“Where were you?”

“Your Uncle Bob had a car problem, and called to ask me to help him out.  Sorry not to leave a note, but I left in a hurry because he sounded so desperate.”

“You have a cell phone, Dad.  You should have texted me.”

“Yeah, sorry.  I actually thought about texting you, but I was driving at the time.  Then, when I caught up with Bob, I guess it just slipped my mind.  You know I’m a Luddite when it comes to cell phones.”

“You are.  You refuse to get a smart phone.  I’m surprised that your old flip phone still works.”

“Hey, I use it the way a phone is supposed to be used.  It works fine to talk to people.  Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where I was.”

“Is everything O.K. with Uncle Bob?” I asked as I followed my dad into the kitchen.

“It will be.  We hoped it was just a dead battery, but the guy from Triple A tried jumping it and couldn’t get it started.  So they towed it to a garage where we proceeded to sit for a couple hours only to be told they needed a part.  He won’t find out until tomorrow how long it will be until it’s repaired.”

My dad glanced at the pile of mail on the table, but didn’t say anything about the missing letter.

“So what’s for dinner?” I asked.

“I didn’t have time to pull anything out of the freezer.  How about I boil some pasta and open up a jar of sauce?”

“Sure, I’ll make a salad.”

“No, you go up and do your homework.  I’ve got dinner under control.  Everything will be ready in half an hour.”

He picked up the pile of mail and riffled through it before laying it back on the table.

“Now, scoot!  I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”  He started filling a pot with water.