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Anchor 1
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • Jun 9
  • 12 min read
Man sitting on deck with drink in hand, watching the sunset over ocean.

James watched the sun slide into the ocean and took another sip of his ginger ale. Maybe his decision to forego alcohol had been hasty. He was only thirty-eight. He was still in good shape, thanks to hitting the gym every morning before work. Work, of course, was not doing so well, not in this economy. Some of his investors had been devastated by the slump, but his own portfolio was already recovering.

“I want your life. The view from this deck, your house, your lady, I want it all. Well, not yours, but I want the whole package.”

James turned to his new assistant. At this kid’s age, James had been determined to make his fortune by the time he was thirty-five. He’d actually achieved all of his goals before that, closer to thirty.

“You’ll have it. Won’t take you long,” said James.

“You think?”

“Sure, Dave. You’re good at closing those sales, and you’re pushing all the right products, the ones that give the company the best return.” That’s what had gotten some of James’ clients into trouble. “You’ll move right up.”

“I heard about that woman who went off on you. That was crazy.”

“Yeah, well, looks like you’re ready for another drink.”

James led the younger man back into the house. He wasn’t going to discuss Mrs. Atwater with Dave. Her husband had committed suicide. Everyone told James it wasn’t his fault the man’s investments had tanked. It was the market… But James knew he should have counseled the man to get out sooner, even though it wasn’t the best move for the company.

Charlotte had insisted on this party for his birthday, including everyone from the office. She wanted him to be the up-and-coming guy she’d hooked up with ten years ago. He’d scared her with his talk of retiring, selling out, maybe getting a sailboat and living on it in the Caribbean.

James was relieved when the last guest left. He just wanted to go to bed.

“Your father called to wish you a happy birthday,” Charlotte said as she put her earrings away.

“When?”

“While you were talking with Bob.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Interrupt you while you’re talking to the head of the company?”

True. He would have been upset with her for doing that a few years ago. Maybe even a few months ago. But today, he’d have taken the call.

“It’s the middle of the night in Kansas. I can’t get back to him now.”

“You can call him tomorrow if you really want to.” Charlotte slid into their bed. “I didn’t think it was that important. It’s not as if the two of you are close.”

She turned slightly, making the silken strap fall off her shoulder, and gave him that smile she’d used to catch him in the first place. What the hell, Dave was right. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

As the weeks wore on, James shrugged off thoughts of retirement. It had been that pushing-forty birthday combined with Mrs. Atwater’s attack, that’s all. He did, however, start making more recommendations that put the customer’s interests first.

When he lost his place as top salesman, he didn’t mention it to Charlotte. Dave was no longer his assistant; he was moving up the ranks on his own, quickly.

When June rolled around, James called his father. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

“James! Good to hear from you. I called on your birthday. You were busy.”

His father had never met Charlotte and never referred to her, as if James were still going through an anonymous string of girlfriends.

“I was hoping you could get away for a week, do some fishing with me,” James offered.

“Actually, I was hoping you could come here for a visit.”

James hadn’t been back since he first left for college. He’d worked his way through school, and it was easier for his father to close the garage for a few days than for James to take time off from multiple jobs. Besides, his mother had died when he was nine. There wasn’t anyone else to see back there.

“You need to get away from that garage, Dad. Come fishing with me. We can meet in San Diego and I’ll charter a boat, see if you can get a Marlin.”

There was plenty of room at the house, James could have had his father come there for a visit and they could still have gone deep-sea fishing, but he told himself his father wouldn’t be comfortable there. He knew he wouldn’t approve of Charlotte. She was gorgeous, an excellent hostess, and had a successful career of her own. She wasn’t interested in marriage or children.

“I was thinking you should meet Sean,” his father said.

“The kid who helps you out at the garage? Hasn’t he gone off to college yet?”

“No, he should have.”

This conversation was going nowhere, like most of their conversations. That’s why it had taken months to return the birthday call. James cut off his father.

“Well, if you can’t get away, you can’t. Let me know when you can and I’ll try to get some time off myself, so we can go fishing.”

“Yeah, we’ll go fishing.” His father paused. “Are you happy, son?”

“You know it,” James replied. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted.”

***

Two weeks later, James was in his cubicle at work when his cell phone rang. Customers didn’t have that number and calls were only forwarded to it when he was out of the office. His brow knit at the familiar number – the garage. His dad always called in the evening or on weekends.

The kid who worked with his dad blurted out the news. “Jim had a massive heart attack yesterday and died before they could get him to the hospital.”

“Just like that? With no warning?” James felt empty.

“Well he’d had that bypass surgery.”

“What bypass surgery?”

“A couple years ago.”

“He never told me he had any surgery.”

“I guess you were busy,” the kid said scathingly.

“He should have told me.”

“The funeral’s Friday, ten o’clock, at Smith’s. We figured you might be able to take a long weekend and actually show up.”

“We?”

“Yeah, the people who cared about him.”

James forgot quiet voice cubicle etiquette. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you just worked for him. You get that? Don’t talk to me about my father like that. He was my only family and maybe we didn’t see each other all the time, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t care about each other. You got that?”

James ended the call before the kid could reply. People in the other cubes had stopped working and were staring at him. Now they hastily looked down and got back to their jobs, except Dave. Dave came over to James’ desk.

“Are you alright?”

“My father died.”

“Jeeze, that’s tough. If you need to take some time off, I can watch your accounts for you.”

James stared at Dave for a moment, seeing himself at that age. Of course Dave would watch his accounts for him, and take as many as he could while he was at it.

“The funeral’s Friday. I’ll fly out Thursday night. It might take a few days to arrange for disposal of all his property, but I’ll be gone less than a week. I’ll have my cell and laptop.”

He was surprised when Charlotte insisted on going with him.

“It may take a few days, honey. Do you really want to be in Kansas that long?”

“He was your father. I should be with you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. The way that boy talked to you on the phone, you need someone with you who knows you loved your father, that it wasn’t your fault it was so hard for both of you to get away at the same time more often.”

He went online to make reservations while Charlotte made dinner. When he was done, he went to the kitchen and pulled her back against him, and gave her cheek a kiss.

“Thanks for going with me. We’ll fly to Lincoln on Thursday and stay in a decent motel, then drive down to Marysville Friday morning.”

“There isn’t a motel in Marysville?”

“Nothing that shows up online. We should be able to stay at my dad’s house, anyway, once we get there.”

In Lincoln, they rented a Cadillac and stayed at the Marriott. When they got to Marysville the next morning, James drove Charlotte around town to show her the sights.

“It’s changed a lot,” he said. “A lot of businesses are gone, a lot of it’s new.”

“Twenty years is a long time.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t change in my head. Silly, huh?”

“Normal,” Charlotte replied. “I mean, I grew up in L.A., so I’ve watched all the changes happen, but if I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, I wouldn’t know what to expect.”

He drove by his father’s house.

“When I was little, my mother always had a huge garden there, right where they put that trailer. Dad must have sold off the lot. He should have told me if he was having money problems.”

Then they drove past the garage.

“I started working with my dad the summer after my mother died. I was only ten, but he wanted to keep me out of trouble, so he had me helping out, doing clean-up and learning by watching.”

“I can’t imagine you as a mechanic.”

“I was actually pretty good at it.”

“Mechanics always have dirty nails.”

“Yeah. It’s almost impossible to get all the grease off.”

That was the biggest reason he’d never come back. He’d never told Charlotte about losing his virginity with Mary Jo in the back of that old pickup out on the logging road. They’d been lying on the blanket afterwards, enjoying the sun, when Mary Jo took his hand, then pulled back with an instinctive “euw” from the forever grease embedded by his nails. He’d avoided her after that, and when he left for college a few weeks later, he never looked back.

“It’s nine-thirty,” Charlotte said.

He found the funeral home and parked. Mr. Smith wasn’t anyone he remembered, but the man recognized him immediately.

“James, I’m so glad you were able to get here early so you can have a private viewing.”

He led them into the room where James’ father waited in a plain but tasteful casket.

“You got his hands clean,” said James.

“It wasn’t that hard. He’d been working primarily with the customers the last few years. Sean’s been doing all the mechanics.”

James didn’t want to sound ignorant of his father’s life, so he didn’t ask why his father had stopped working on cars, or who had made all the funeral arrangements, or any of the other questions that had started bubbling up as he drove Charlotte around town.

“I’d like a few moments alone with him.”

“Of course.” Mr. Smith led Charlotte out of the room.

James stood staring at the body that had once housed his father.

“Were you proud of me?”

He’d never asked before. Now he’d never be sure. There had been compliments, congratulations on promotions, that sort of thing, but he’d always had a sense there was an underlying disappointment. Mostly, they’d stuck to safe conversations. Except his father’s last question, ‘Are you happy?’ He’d said yes, but was it true?

“James, honey, people are starting to arrive for the viewing.”

He looked up at Charlotte and nodded. “I’m ready.”

He was shocked at the number of people who came through in the next hours to show their respect for his father. He’d been a good man, an honest mechanic, not a prominent man, but a key figure in the community.

“When my husband first died and I didn’t have any income, your father kept my car running until I could find work and start to pay him back.”

The same sort of story repeated throughout the morning. Most of the people he didn’t recognize. He did notice Mary Jo was among those who followed them to the cemetery for the interment. She didn’t seem to be with anyone in particular.

Finally it was over. Charlotte stood by James as people shook his hand and offered their last condolences as they headed for their cars. Mary Jo came up and gave him a quick hug.

“I’m so sorry.” There were tears in her eyes. “He was a wonderful man.”

Charlotte put her arm around James. “We know. We’ll miss him terribly.”

Mary Jo gave Charlotte a long look and nodded, then walked away.

“While other people were talking to you, the attorney let me know he’s arranged to disclose the will formally this afternoon at four,” said Charlotte. “He gave me his card with the address. He said that young man who worked with your father will also be there, that he’s in the will.”

That made sense. His father would remember a loyal employee.

A young man greeted them outside the attorney’s office. He offered his hand to James somewhat stiffly. “I’m Sean. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. Had an emergency repair.”

“Dad would have understood.”

They went into the office together and were shown into a meeting room where they all sat at a table made for much larger groups.

“Well, James,” the lawyer cleared his throat. “Did your father ever tell you his plans for the garage?”

“Not really.”

“Well, your father decided he wanted the garage to stay open, you know…”

James’ first thought was that his father had put in a clause to assure the kid would have the first chance to buy the place. Then the cold certainty that his father had left the garage to Sean settled into James’ stomach.

But the lawyer continued, “What your father decided is to leave the garage to the two of you, fifty-fifty. If you both want to sell, you can do that only after working together at the place for a year.”

“What!” Charlotte was the one who shouted; James was speechless.

“James can’t do that,” Charlotte explained. “He’s got a good job; he can’t walk away from it for a year and expect it to be there when he gets back.”

“That’s always an option,” said the lawyer. Then he turned to James. “But if you don’t come back within a month and stay for a year, the garage is all Sean’s to keep or sell.”

‘Are you happy?’ had been his father’s last question. He’d lied, but his father had heard the truth. A year break might be exactly what he needed to regroup and plan a new career. But he’d need a place to live.

“What about the house?” James asked.  

“You dad sold the house long ago,” said the lawyer, surprised. “You didn’t know that?”

“No, he always joined me for vacations. It was the only way to get him to take time off from work.” No one seemed to believe this half-truth.

“Jim split the property when I was a kid and set himself up in a trailer,” said Sean. “He sold the house to my mother.”

Maybe the kid was his illegitimate half-brother. His father had never been involved with a woman while James was growing up, but after he left, it would have been reasonable for him to get involved with someone.

“The trailer and the property that’s on is yours, James,” said the lawyer.

“So I could stay in it and work the garage with Sean here for a year, then we can sell the place and you can get out of this town.” He finished with a nod to the kid, a truce offering.

“That’s fine with me,” said Sean. “I loved working at the garage, but that was because Jim was there.”

“Your father practically raised Sean,” the lawyer explained.

How could he not have realized? Why wouldn’t his father have said something? There was no striking resemblance, but there was enough. The kid had to be his half-brother.

“There must be a way to break this will.” Charlotte’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. “James would lose more by giving up his job than he’d ever get from selling a garage in this little town.”

Her condescension lay heavily in the room.

“Actually,” said James, “I’ve been thinking of making a career change anyway. The year will give me time to sort out the future.”

Charlotte glared at him.

“It’ll take a few weeks to clear things up so I can come back,” said James.

“We’ll clean up the trailer for you,” said Sean. All seemed to be forgiven.

 

Charlotte didn’t talk to him about it until he turned in his two weeks’ notice.

“I went with you to stop you from doing something this stupid. You’re never going to be happy anywhere. Why not keep a good job where you don’t have to be a grease monkey?”

“I need a change. I want to do work that’s useful.”

“You help people plan their future.”

“I help them lose it...”

“Well, I’m not moving to have my future in Podunk. I have a good job here and I’m keeping it. And I’m keeping the house. You’ll be glad when you come to your senses.”

“The garage is only for a year, but I’m not coming back to this life,” said James. “I don’t want to work for a system that pretends to care about people. I want to do something that’s tangible, give people something they really need instead of convincing them to buy whatever will make the most profit for a corporation.”

He moved most of his personal belongings into storage. He and Charlotte worked out an agreement on the house and had a lawyer draw it up formally. When Sean called to let him know the trailer was ready, but not very big for two people, he admitted the relationship was at an end.

***

“Are you sure you’re not going to come to your senses and come back?” asked Charlotte. “You’re not taking much.”

“I’m going to be living in a trailer for the next year. I won’t have room for anything else. I’ll get my other things out of storage when I know what I’m doing next.”

She gave him a stiff hug and watched him drive away.

Three days later, he got to Marysville mid-morning and drove straight to the garage. The big doors were open and Sean was working on an engine. He came out to greet James, wiping his right hand on a rag, then holding it out. James ignored the remaining grease and shook hands.

“Glad you’re here,” said Sean. “Mom’s been helping out with the phone and paperwork, but she’s using her vacation time to do it.”

“Your mother?”

Sean looked over James’ shoulder and grinned. “Come on, he’s here finally.”

James turned into a hug, then Mary Jo stepped back and smiled at him.

“Welcome home.”            


The audio version of this story is at


Defining Moments is a series of character studies and defining moments- short sketches to whet your appetite. If you’d like reading more about one of these characters, leave a comment.

Thanks.


Author Sheri McGuinn in bucket hat at Machu Pichu

 
 
 
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • Jan 24, 2019
  • 8 min read

Updated: Dec 11, 2020

Marvin unplugged his computer for the fourth time as yet another thunderstorm rolled through. He worked on battery, trying to meet his self-imposed deadline, but the computer died before he could finish. Frustrated, he gave up. He turned off the lights and stretched out on the couch to watch the storm outside. He toyed with the idea of plugging the computer back into the wall, but repeated lightning strikes lit up the room. He couldn’t afford a new computer and he didn’t want to lose all of his work on this one.

His cell phone jarred him awake. Why had he set the ringtone to that annoying buzz? He stumbled across the now-dark room towards the sound, bumping into a chair and cursing on his way. He grabbed the phone and caught a glimpse of a 716 area code before the display flashed its low battery warning and went dark. The clock on the microwave beamed a steady 12:06. A few hours ago, the phone had said the battery was at 100% and he’d unplugged it.

Obviously it had lied.

He turned on a light. The storm had passed, so he plugged in both the phone and his computer to let them recharge, though he didn’t hold out much hope for the phone. He probably needed a new one, or at least a new battery – if they even sold batteries for it anymore. Someone told him the new ones didn’t have batteries.

He decided to make a cup of coffee and get back to the story he’d been trying to finish all day. As he waited for the microwave to chime, his thoughts wandered back to the phone call. He knew that area code. It was an East coast number. It would be three in the morning there. If he knew the caller, their name would have popped up, not the number.

A telemarketer? Not at three in the morning. A bill collector? They weren’t supposed to call in the middle of the night either, and he didn’t have any debts anyway.

It had to be an emergency – someone calling with bad news.

The phone rang again. He didn’t think it let calls through while it was charging. He looked at the number and hit answer, but again the phone died before he connected with the caller. He repeated the number as he wrote it on his whiteboard.

The first thing he did on his computer was a reverse search for the number. Angela Newsome – no one he knew. He took a sip of coffee. She was probably calling his number by mistake. That’s all – it was probably just a dyslexic error or she was drunk, this time of night.

He tried to work on his story.

He went back and looked for more information about Angela.

She did live in a small town near his aunt and uncle. What if she was letting a stranger – a member of his family – use her phone at a hospital because their cell phone had died? It had to be important for her to have tried calling twice at this hour.

The phone rang again and he dashed across the room to answer it. Again it died without making a connection. As Marvin stared at the useless piece of technology in his hand, he felt he had to contact Angela Newsome as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t get any work done until he knew the reason for the calls. He copied the number onto a piece of paper and the phone actually let him check that he had it right, though he couldn’t call out.

It had to be something wrong with Uncle Joe or Aunt Helen. They were in their eighties. It could be either of them, one lying in the hospital with a heart attack that promised to be fatal and the other desperately reaching out to family for support.

He slipped his wallet into his pocket with the paper, put on his shoes, and found his car keys on the kitchen shelf where he’d left them earlier. He didn’t stay in touch the way he should. A few years back, Aunt Helen had called him late at night when one of their grandkids wrapped a car around a tree. The kid didn’t make it, and Marvin hadn’t gone to the funeral.

He paused on his way to the door. Did he really want to know what was happening?

Maybe he could wait until tomorrow, go buy a new phone or battery, have his number transferred if necessary, and then he could call. The only funeral he’d ever attended was the one for his parents and kid sister, when he was sixteen.

It was his fault they weren’t safe at home. He’d gotten so obnoxiously drunk that night that someone had called his parents – either to get rid of him or to get him home safe. He didn’t even remember. His sister rode along because when he was like that he responded better to her. He didn’t even get hurt in the accident; neither did the drunk who plowed into them.

Marvin hadn’t had a drink since that night.

Joe and Helen had taken him in while he finished high school. Their kids were older – already had families of their own, scattered all over the country. Some of them might even be living out his way. Aunt Helen could be calling for him to go help someone dear to them.

The night was crystal clear, with stars shining brightly. The air was still moist and aromas heightened – damp earth and pines. It wasn’t a bad night for a drive. He wound down dark roads into the little town near the highway, where the diner was open all night.

He explained his dilemma to the woman who seated him.

“I can’t let you use the business phone, but I’ll get my cell for you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said as she handed him a menu. He felt like he had to order something. “I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

“It’s yesterday’s.”

“That’s okay.”

He planned to leave her a large tip anyway.

The first time he called the number, he got a voicemail message that confirmed it was Angela’s phone. He left a message and took a sip of the bitter coffee.

“No one answering now?” asked the waitress.

He shook his head.

“They called you three times… I’d call them back the same,” she said.

Not sure if he was angry or worried, Marvin called the number again and hung up when it went to voicemail. His third try a young woman answered – groggy, confused, and irritated.

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“Marvin Harrington. You called me three times.”

“I didn’t make any calls. You called me.”

“Your number was recorded on my phone. Three times, about forty minutes ago.”

“I was asleep. It’s the middle of the night.” She was mostly irritated at this point.

“Could someone else have used your phone?”

“No, I live alone.”

He could hear her running water.

“So you’re saying your phone must have called me itself?”

“No, you probably made a mistake copying the number,” she said, then yawned.

“I double-checked it.” Marvin was sure he’d gotten it right.

“Listen, I don’t know how my phone could have called you, but…”

“What?”

“Wait a minute.” Suddenly she was alert.

He waited, heard her walking down stairs. When she didn’t say anything, he asked “Are you okay?”

“There’s a weird light in my yard. . . Are you some kind of psycho trying to lure me out of my house? I have a gun.”

“No. I’m sitting in a diner in Arizona.” He flagged down the waitress and held the phone out to her. “Tell her I’m not in her yard.”

“Hello?” said the waitress. “This fella’s sitting in the diner, using my phone. He was six kinds of worried who was calling him so late from back East.” She gave him the phone back. “She says she’s going outside to see what’s going on.”

“You should call the police,” he said into the phone, suddenly fearful for Angela.

“I’m walking out to the hedge to see. . . Oh shit, someone’s put their car in the ditch. I have to call 911.”

“Call me back. I want to know you’re okay.”

The line was dead.

“You done with my phone?” asked the waitress.

“She said there’s a car in the ditch. I asked her to call back. Can I wait here awhile? In case she does? It’ll be your phone number.”

“I’m here until eight in the morning. You can keep my phone on the table, but let me know if there’s a local call. My kids should be asleep, but you never know.”

“Of course, and I’ll get some breakfast, I guess.”

“You don’t have to, but it’ll keep that coffee from rotting your gut.”

“It is a little strong. But that’s okay. I wasn’t going to sleep more tonight anyway.”

He was half-way through his greasy eggs and hash browns when the cell phone rang. It was the 716 number again.

“Hello?”

“Marvin?” The woman’s voice quavered.

“Yes. This is Marvin.”

“It’s Aunt Helen. This nice young woman’s let me use her phone. She said you woke her up insisting she’d called you.”

“Are you okay? Was it your car in the ditch?”

“Yes, and your uncle’s arm was bleeding something terrible. I didn’t dare leave him – I had to keep pressure on it. We were on our way home from Junior’s and we were close enough we decided not to spend another night in a motel. I was supposed to stay awake and help keep him alert, but I dozed off and he must have, too.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine. This angel is driving me to the hospital behind the ambulance.”

“Angel?”

“The girl you called,” explained Helen.

“Is Uncle Joe going to be alright?”

“The medics took him to the hospital because he lost a lot of blood, but they were able to get it to stop. They said he wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t kept the pressure on.”

“How long ago did you crash?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but it seemed like forever. I was terrified I’d fall asleep again and he’d bleed to death.”

“Where were your cell phones?”

“I think they were in the cup holder, but they must have gone flying when we rolled.”

“The car rolled?” he asked in a panic. He was answered by silence. “Aunt Helen? Are you there? Are you okay?”

“Hold on,” said a different female.

As he waited he heard voices in the background, not clear enough to hear the words.

“Marvin?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Angela Newsome. It’s my phone? We’re at the hospital now. They’re both going to be okay. You’re really in Arizona?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there any family here that I can call?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, but Helen carries a little address book in her purse. That’ll have people you can contact for her.”

“Okay. . . Nice meeting you, I guess,” she said.

“Yeah. Thanks for going out to check on that light when you thought I was a psycho.”

“Psycho, psychic – where’s the line? I didn’t really have a gun.”

“You would have here. It seems like I’m the only person I know who doesn’t have one.”

“So if you were a psycho, you would have believed me,” she said.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute.”

“I’ll stick around until someone they know comes. And I’ll call you later and let you know how they are,” Angela promised.

“Thanks. My cell phone’s not working right, but I’m getting it replaced first thing in the morning. My number should work by noon your time.”

Marvin gave his future wife his phone number.

“This coffee really isn’t too bad.” He smiled at the waitress as he returned her phone.

Defining Moments is a series of character studies and defining moments- short sketches to whet your appetite. If you’d like reading more about one of these characters, leave a comment.

Thanks.



 
 
 
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • Dec 20, 2018
  • 5 min read

Updated: Dec 11, 2020

Novel Bites is a series of short stories from the perspective of secondary characters in my novels. Sometimes the story is straight from the novel, sometimes it’s not. This is from Alice – her father Jack telling us about the moment he became her father. Please comment. Thanks.



I had one Christmas with Sunshine.

We’d been together since August, though sex and drugs flowed pretty easy on the farm, so there was no way to be sure whose bun was in her oven. But now her belly button was inside out, I was the only one there massaging her back and cuddling up with her at night. I didn’t want anyone else.

We were still having sex. Anna told Sunshine it was perfectly natural and safe. In fact, she said pregnancy hormones increase a woman’s interest in sex – though that might have been wearing off. The last time we did it on Luke’s waterbed, Sunshine needed help getting out of it.

“Jack, I feel like a beached whale.” Then she rubbed her belly and smiled as if being a whale was the best thing in the world.

There were three or four toddlers and a couple waist-high kids living at the farm. I wasn’t completely sure which kids went with which adults, because they ran in a pack and we all watched out for them, more or less. There were two houses and who slept where changed frequently.

At our Thanksgiving feast, one of the older kids asked about Christmas, and there followed quite a debate about whether or not we should promote a commercial holiday. But we didn’t have a television, so the kids weren’t pestering anyone for the latest toys or anything. The kid asking just wanted to know what to expect – which I understood. Looking back at my life overall, you might be surprised to hear me say it, but living day to day with no plans for the future does have its down side.

Usually I kept quiet when the group was deciding on things like that, but that time I spoke up.

“I spent last Christmas in a miserable jungle, wondering if I’d make it through the day alive.” Mostly I kept being a vet to myself, so that was a surprise to most of them. “I don’t give a shit about it being commercial or religious. I just want that warm, peace-loving feeling everyone seems to get when they put up a tree and lights and start thinking about what they can do for other people.”

Longest piece of talk most of them had ever heard from me. Then I sat back and listened while they sorted it out. They decided they didn’t have to be Christians to believe Christ was a good guy who worked for peace, so it was okay to celebrate his birthday.

Once that decision was made, everyone got into it full bore.

We all hiked out into the woods and found a small tree to cut down. Luke suggested digging one up, but Ben, who had spent some time on the farm while his grandfather was still working it, said the tree would likely die when replanted and the one we were cutting would never grow because it was shaded by bigger trees. He said it was actually better for the forest to be thinned out now and then.

The ladies got to baking cookies and pies and popping corn that the bigger kids sewed together into garlands for the tree. I was supposed to call the ladies women, but that’s not how I was brought up and some things stick. Mostly I avoided calling them anything.

Once the smells and glitter got everyone into the spirit, we drew names from a hat, so each of us was responsible for one present and no one knew who had what name. Well, except for the ones helping the toddlers. Susie and Becky and couple other women stepped up to draw with the kids. They were probably the mothers, I guess.

I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but when I opened up my slip of paper, I had Sunshine. The rule was we were to make one gift for our person, unless there was something we knew they really needed or wanted that had to be bought, and they wouldn’t or couldn’t get it for themselves.

Well, Sunshine had all the hand-me-down baby stuff she was going to need, but there was one thing I could buy for her. She wanted a Polaroid camera so she could take pictures of her baby as she grew up. Sunshine didn’t talk much about where she came from – I never did know her real name – but she was sad that there’d never been any pictures of her growing up. She said it made her feel as if maybe she never really existed as a child.

Back while my father was still dragging me around, bragging about my medals and laughing about my shaggy hair, back before hordes of kids descended on the City and drove the original peace-lovers away, one of the guys passing through Sunshine’s life had taken her photo on a sunny day in Golden Gate Park. Sunshine had a copy of it, so she knew she existed there, in one of her gauzy outfits, with a ring of flowers in her hair. She was beautiful. She must have been a beautiful child, too.

So that’s what I got her. I didn’t share my finances with anyone, but I hadn’t spent all my money on drugs. When I first went to ‘Nam, I set it up so almost all my combat pay went into the bank for when I got home again. Figured it would give me a good start. But when I got back, there was nothing I really wanted to do with it, so most of it was still there – more than enough for a camera. I wanted to get Sunshine a lot of other things, but there was that one gift rule, so I settled for buying a dozen rolls of film to go with the Polaroid and wrapped it all in one box.

We exchanged gifts Christmas Eve, because otherwise the kids would have had us all up at the crack of dawn. It was after dinner and we opened them one at a time. I don’t remember what I got, or anyone else. I just remember the smile on Sunshine’s face. Annie wanted to take a photo of us together, but Sunshine said no, she was saving all the film for the baby.

There was a fire in the fireplace and all the lights were off but the Christmas tree and one for Ben to read by. He had a book of Christmas stories and he read them aloud, one by one, until the last kid got carried off to bed asleep and by midnight the adults were ready to call it a night. Then it was just me and Sunshine sitting on the floor, me spread-eagle with her leaning up against me so I could rub her belly as we watched the flames grow low. I leaned my head forward and breathed in the sweetness of her hair.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said softly, pressing her cheek gently against mine. “Not just for the camera, but for sticking with me. We’ll take a picture of all three of us once the baby’s here.”

She was assuming I was going to fill in as this baby’s father, and part of me wanted to, but I wasn’t sure it was mine or whether I would be any good as a father anyway. So I didn’t say anything, just eased back, but I kept rubbing her belly, watching the fire.

That’s when I felt it. The first time, I wasn’t sure. I sat there holding my breath, keeping my hand still in the same spot. Then that baby did a flip or something and there was no doubt at all.

From that moment on, Alice was my daughter.



 
 
 


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