The Reunion (13 page)

A
fter the waitress brought their dishes, they spent the next twenty minutes getting to know each other better. Karen told Dave about life as a realtor in today’s sad housing market. She’d talked a little about Gail and about her church, which Dave realized was at least ten times larger than the one he attended back home. She’d started to talk about her father a few times—her real father, as she called him, not Aaron Miller—but then stopped. Dave detected she was struggling, but he didn’t want to pry.

Dave started asking questions about her favorite music (country western, but she also liked Coldplay), the kinds of movies she enjoyed (romantic comedies and anything set in the 1800s), favorite places she’d visited (New York City, the Disney theme parks, and Rome). She’d stopped him then, insisting he talk for a while.

Dave told her what life was like growing up in an Italian family on the south side of Chicago, living with a Vietnam War widow who’d never remarried. It really seemed to affect Karen when she’d learned his father had died in Vietnam. Dave talked about how his mother had moved down to Florida to be near Jake after Anne had died. He’d spent the rest of the time talking about Jake and how much closer they’d become since he’d quit his job in Atlanta and moved back to Florida.

This felt much more like a date than an interview. He didn’t want the evening to end.

The waitress returned to clear their plates. “Would you folks like any dessert or coffee?”

“I’m not ready for dessert, but I would like some coffee,” Dave said.

“Me too,” Karen said. “But how about we head over to a Barnes & Noble down the road? It’s at an outdoor mall. We could get some coffee there and keep talking.”

“I’d like that.” He looked up at the waitress. “Guess we just need the bill.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Karen looked at Dave. “So where were we? You were talking about your son Jake. That’s great you guys are so close. Usually it’s just the opposite. Kids tend to pull away when they hit the teen years. I never had any children, but my brother Steve and his wife have had all kinds of ups and downs when their kids reached that age.”

“I’m really grateful for the way things are going between Jake and me. But lately, it feels like he’s pulling away a little. Not in a rebellious way. I think it’s just life. He’s a senior in high school, on the basketball team, making friends.” Dave paused, wondering what Jake was doing now. He looked at his watch; he needed to remember to call him. It was an hour later in Florida. “I’m kind of dreading next year.”

“When he goes off to college?” Karen said.

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“Did he get a basketball scholarship?”

Dave laughed. “No . . . that’s not likely to happen. But he’s got a 3.9 average, so we’re hoping he might get some kind of academic one.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, were you and your fiancé engaged very long before you broke up?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. “I’m sorry, that’s way too personal.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s kind of a sad tale, though. Right out of college I was mostly into my career and hanging out with friends. Wasn’t really thinking too much about marriage and family. Then I met Greg. Thought for sure he was ‘the one.’ I met him at church, we dated for years.” She shook her head as if in disbelief. “I mean . . .
years
. That should have been a clue he wasn’t as serious about me as I was about him. We finally got engaged, but that dragged on for a few more years, until finally four years ago, he decided he’d met ‘the one,’ and it wasn’t me.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Yeah . . . so I never married and never had any kids.” She sighed. “I really love kids too.”

“You seem like someone who’d make a good mother.”

Karen’s expression suddenly changed. She picked up a napkin and began dabbing her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Dave asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine.” She put the napkin down and blinked away the tears. “That was a sweet thing to say. I always thought I would too. Make a good mother, I mean. Maybe we should change the subject.”

Dave wished he could comfort her somehow. The waitress returned with the check. Dave looked it over, then handed her the debit card. The interruption seemed to help. When he looked back at Karen, she’d regained her composure.

Karen led Dave to their next stop. She’d asked him to keep their cars close since it was totally dark out now and the traffic was fairly heavy. He reminded her his rental car had GPS. She turned off the Frontage Road beside 114 into the Southlake Town Square and up to the parking lot of the Barnes & Noble. On the way there, the rational part of her brain kept trying to convince herself this was a silly, stupid fantasy she was entertaining. He wasn’t interested in her; he was just a genuinely nice guy.

A nice, good-looking guy.

A nice, good-looking guy who was the right age.

And a Christian.

And available.

And . . . he was flying back to Florida tomorrow to a life that did not, and could not, involve her. Besides, he wasn’t even interested. That part
was
total fantasy.

He held the doors open for her as they walked in. It was nippy enough to be able to see their breath. The heat inside the store felt great. “I’m definitely ready for coffee,” she said.

“Me too.” They walked through the aisles toward the café. “This is still part of the dinner, so still my treat.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” she said. “I’m the realtor who’s not selling any houses, remember?” He paid for their coffee, once again with a shiny gold debit card. She noticed how he looked at it, smiling as he handed it to the cashier. “So what’s with this gold card, and why do you smile every time you look at it?”

He laughed. “It’s just . . . I still can’t believe I get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be here with you, in Texas. That I could just buy a ticket without worrying about the price, fly here, rent a car, buy dinner, pay for my hotel. All of it.” He looked down at her with his handsome face. “I don’t usually have this kind of money. I’ll tell you about it when we sit down.”

As she sipped her caramel macchiato and he sipped his latte, he explained the origin of the gold debit card. Which led into a story about an oil executive named John Lansing and his search for her birth father, Aaron Miller.

She wished she hadn’t asked. Because now the subject would shift to the real reason Dave wanted to meet her in the first place. She knew there was very little to say on that subject, and when they were through, he would probably need to leave. And walk right out the door and out of her life.

But she absolutely loved hearing him talk.

“I know it’s probably hard for you to fathom, Karen . . . having a dad who won the Congressional Medal of Honor, when he wound up being such a disappointment after he got home. But I heard the story of what he did over there, and it was pretty amazing. He literally saved three guys’ lives. They definitely would have died if it hadn’t been for what he did. And from what John Lansing said, it sounds like Aaron got messed up on drugs because of all the pain from his injuries.”

“I remember my mom saying something about him always having nightmares. I don’t remember any details, though.”

“Sounds like most of the guys who fought over there had them. It was a nightmare kind of war. The guys who come home from Iraq and Afghanistan have the same problems. The difference now is, there’s all kinds of help available. Your dad didn’t get anything like that when he got home. It didn’t help that the general public treated the Vietnam vets like outcasts.”

Karen didn’t share Dave’s passion for this. But she remembered his father had been killed in Vietnam. In a way, that war had taken both their fathers’ lives. She sipped her coffee. “I’m not really mad at my dad for leaving us. I was when I was a kid. A lot, for the first few years. But when my mom remarried, well, it wasn’t long before I forgot all about my first dad. Mark, my new dad, really treated us like we were his own. Actually, until Steve called this afternoon, I hadn’t thought about Aaron Miller, probably for years.”

“So you’re okay with me trying to find him?”

“Sure, but I really don’t see how I can help.”

“You have no idea where he is?”

She shook her head.

“No idea at all?”

“From what my mother said, after he left us, things went from bad to worse. He wound up living on the streets. My brother went through a phase when he hit thirteen where he wanted to find him. I remember him and my mom arguing about it. She said Steve wouldn’t like what he found. She was telling him that he needed to be thankful. That he had a real dad now. Our first dad, she said, was nothing but a homeless drunk. He deserted us and never gave us a dime.”

“Wow.”

“That was pretty much the end of the discussion,” she said.

“Did that conversation take place here in Texas?” he asked.

“Yes. And that was pretty much the last time we talked about Aaron Miller.” She thought about what she’d said. “I guess it must sound strange, me calling him by his name. But I don’t think of him as my father.”

“No, I understand,” he said. “So, did he stay in Florida?”

“I don’t know. That was so many years ago. He could be anywhere by now.” She didn’t want to say the next part. “He could be dead.”

Dave sighed. “I know, I thought about that. I hope not for these three veterans’ sakes. They’re really hoping to have this big reunion with him so they can thank him properly for saving their lives.”

Karen was quiet for a moment. “I wish I could be more help,” she finally said. “But Dave, I’m afraid your war hero book isn’t going to wind up with a happy ending. Not if you make it about Aaron Miller.”

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.

T
he 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.