A Father's Quest (19 page)

“She accused me—quite accurately, I fear—of being a cockeyed pessimist. She said I was a reactionary who saw the world as half full of poison…or something like that,” he told the man sitting across from him.

The blues bar was Leonard Franey’s idea. He’d called Jonas the day before to set up the meeting. “I’ll be in town on business. Thought we could tie up a few loose ends.”

Leonard fiddled with his glass of beer, a smile working at the corners of his mouth. “Optimists are like that,” he said, his tone a great deal less businesslike than usual. It sounded a bit wistful, actually, Jonas thought. “But I prefer to think pessimists are actually realists in sheep’s clothing.”

Jonas smiled but he wasn’t sure he understood. Fortunately, the man went on without expecting a response. “The thing that’s key is balance. Ying and yang. When two extremes meet in the middle, you can create harmony and beauty.”

The markedly Eastern philosophy sounded strange coming from this man in black. “That’s very…Zen,” Jonas said.

“I speak from experience, Jonas. You are a good man. A well-trained logician. You like things to fit in nice tight boxes that can then be filed away Case Closed. So do I. But life isn’t like that, my friend. And people like us need people like Remy to keep from becoming completely jaded.”

Too late. He’d snatched a few meaningless facts from a file and immediately concluded an innocent man was a killer. Jonas did not like what that said about him. It was probably the main reason he presently sat on a fence, immobilized by fear. His dilemma was likely the main reason he’d agreed to hire a babysitter to stay with Birdie today. This was the first they’d been apart since her rescue three weeks ago.

“She told me I wasn’t the man she thought I was and left—right in the middle of everything. I heard later from one of the search-and-rescue guys that they hung around the rental-car place to make sure she got off safely and that she rented a bright red convertible and drove off, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world.”

The image continued to haunt him. Especially at night. God, he missed her.

Leonard let out a big, heartfelt laugh. “I can picture it. That girl has spunk. And heart,” he added meaningfully. “Believe me, Jonas, my biggest regret in life is giving up too easily on my Remy. Her name was Belle, by the way, and she predicted that I would wind up rich and alone if I didn’t realign my priorities. ‘Realign your priorities.’ Who says things like that? I went back to work and she went away.”

“What happened to her?”

“She lives in South Beach, where she’s married with two kids. She teaches yoga and jogs on the beach. She seems very happy and content. I know this because I’m a highly sought after private investigator, who lacks any real life so I live vicariously through my friends. Even old friends who have moved on with their lives.”

Jonas was surprised by the man’s candor. Surprised and not sure what to make of his cautionary tale. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Leonard took a small, token sip of beer. “You remind me of me, Jonas. Except for the hair.” He rubbed his bald pate and grinned. “Plus, I was in the Black Hills, visiting my pal Shane Reynard this past weekend and bumped into Remy’s sister, Jessie.”

Jonas inhaled sharply. “Really? Should I have checked to see if you’re armed?”

Leonard chuckled. “She told me about her threat to castrate you. She’s a feisty one, that Jessie. But, no, I’m not here to do you bodily harm. In fact, she asked me to give you this card.”

Like a magician, he suddenly produced a glossy business card, which he nudged across the table. Jonas picked it up and studied it a moment. “A web designer and marketing person? What do I need that for?”

“Jessie said to tell you the only way you were going to get back in her sister’s good graces was by giving her what you promised when you hired her.”

“What did I promise? Oh, wait. You mean, a glowing recommendation?”

Leonard shrugged. “She said you’d know.”

Jonas turned the card over and saw a handwritten note.
Think testimonial.
What the hell did that mean?

He heaved a sigh and tucked the card in his shirt pocket. “Too late,” he said. “Remy already has a job. I got an email newsletter from the rest home where my mother lives. It included a big spread about welcoming back Remy to a full-time position, blah, blah, blah. She doesn’t need my reference.”

Leonard didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Jonas polished off his shot, nearly gagging on the harsh sweetness. The bitter truth was Remy didn’t need a thing from him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to intrude in her life and beg her to give him a second—or was it a third—chance?

“They’re closing my department at work,” he said. “I can stay in Memphis if I want a desk job or I can transfer to a bigger market. Say…New Orleans.”

Leonard’s poker face betrayed nothing.

“And I put my condo on the market—just to see if there was a market and it sold the next day.”

“So…what are you waiting for? A neon arrow telling you where you need to be—and who you’re supposed to be with?”

“She’s beautiful. Single. Good. I have enough baggage for three people. What could I possibly bring to the table to make up for that?”

Leonard shook his head indulgently but his grin was kind—hopeful, even. “People like Remy—and my Belle—aren’t blind to the bad stuff that you and I see, Jonas. They simply choose to look beyond it. And, as to what you bring…well, check out that card.” He shrugged and reached for his phone that was sitting to one side like a gun. “Or you could sleep on it. Some people get their answers from dreams, I’m told.”

He rose, then leaned across the table to shake Jonas’s hand. “It was good meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you at the engagement party.”

Jonas stood, too. “What engagement party?”

“Jessie and her rancher fiancé. Gonna be a big affair in Sentinel Pass. All the stars of the show will be there. I’m handling security. In fact, Shane booked a private plane for me and my crew. N’Awlins isn’t too far out of the way if you need a lift.” He winked. “Just saying. First, you gotta convince Miss Remy that you’re the man to provide her heart’s desire. Better get hopping, son. The party’s in three weeks.”

The paternity test. She’d forgotten all about it.

She grabbed the mail and hurried inside, telling her sister, “I need to pinch pennies so I can come to your wedding. What’s more important? An engagement party or being your maid of honor?”

Jessie huffed and muttered on the other end of the line. Not surprising. She was living the fairy tale. She’d come to expect things to work out the way she wanted them to—right down to a glamorous, star-studded street party in Sentinel Pass to celebrate her engagement to Cade.

“Hey, guess what?” Remy asked. “The results from that test Jonas and I took are back. Wanna know what it says?”

“I already know. So do you, obviously. What’s the big deal? The real test comes when you talk Brother Thom into donating a swab of DNA. When’s that going to happen?”

Remy didn’t know. “I’ve left a couple of messages on his cell phone, but he hasn’t called back. Not surprising, I guess, given the fact he was in the middle of losing his land. He might be homeless, for all I know.”

“At least, he isn’t a homeless serial killer.”

Remy groaned and shook her head. She’d told her sister everything, of course. To Remy’s surprise, Jessie had been more sympathetic toward Jonas than Remy would have expected. “I could see myself jumping to the same conclusion,” she said. “People aren’t all sweet and charitable like you, Rem. Jonas was prepared for the worst. That’s a good thing in my book. It shows he cares.”

They’d argued for miles—Remy behind the wheel of her bright red convertible—Bluetooth in place, Jessie kicking back in her pool, exercising her ankle in preparation for her surgery.

“How’s your foot?”

“Ugly. I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me what the paternity test says.”

Remy set her purse and computer bag on the table. She’d spent the afternoon at the library, doing research into opening a small business. She wasn’t sure she was brave enough to actually hang out a shingle, so to speak, but if she decided to start offering lucid dream consultations, while working on her master’s degree in psychology, she needed to be prepared.

She skimmed down the cover letter. “Blah, blah, blah, cover my ass so you don’t sue me— Hey, I could use this format to protect myself if I decide to go into the dream business.”

Jessie didn’t say anything. A first. Her sisters had been supportive of Remy’s decision to return to college, but, surprisingly, Jessie had been lukewarm about the idea of turning Remy’s penchant for lucid dreaming into a business.

“Okay. Here it is. There is a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that Jonas is not my brother. Which, of course, means there is zero chance that his father is our father. Pretty anticlimactic, right?” She skimmed to the bottom of the page. “I wonder if they sent a copy to Jonas. Probably, huh?”

“You’re dying to call him, aren’t you?”

“No,” Remy lied.

Jonas was probably busily fitting all the loose and wobbly pieces of his life back into the perfect, white-carpet image he thought he wanted. She missed him. There was no denying that. And Birdie. She would have loved to get to know that beautiful child better, but she hadn’t heard from him since that fateful day at the GoodFriends’s compound. And she wasn’t about to call. “Men suck.”

Jessie’s laugh didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic. And she immediately changed the subject. “What did you dream about last night?”

Remy walked into her living room—with its newly painted butter-yellow walls and sat on the love seat she’d picked up at that new consignment store in town. “My dreams? Seriously? Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me.”

Remy let her head fall against the cushion. She stared at the ceiling a moment, thinking. “I was planting a garden. Pepper plants. You were there. You laughed and said there were better ways to get some spice in my life.” She smiled. “I ignored you. As usual. And when I looked up, you were gone and Birdie was there, instead.”

“You were planting a garden.” Jessie sounded speculative. “Hmm…really. That’s interesting.”

Remy’s radar went on high alert. “What’s going on, Jess? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Cade gave me an iPad for an engagement present. I’m looking at that online dream encyclopedia you told me about. According to it, planting a garden can mean you are open and receptive to new things. You are preparing to reap the bounty of your earlier investments. You are ripe with—”

Remy shot to her feet. “Stop. I know what it means. My job starts next week. I’ve filled out an application for grad school and picked up the paperwork I need to open my own business. I’m looking ahead and trying to get on with my life, Jess. What more do you want from me?”

Her sister didn’t answer right away. When she did, Remy’s inner twin sense went on high alert. Jessie was planning something—something that had to do with Remy. “Listen, Rem, no matter what happens, you know I love you, right? And I want you to be as happy as I am. Are we clear on that?”

Clear as mud, she almost said. One of her mother’s favorite sayings. But, she didn’t have time to formulate an answer, because there was a loud, firm knock on her door, followed by an excited, little girl voice calling her name.

“Remy. Remy, are you home? It’s me, Birdie.”

“Her car is here. Call again.”

He was standing a few steps back, the yard sign they’d picked up that morning after visiting Grandma balanced on the porch beside him—the front pressed against his leg so it would be a surprise for Remy.

Daddy had been planning this surprise ever since the day he quit his job and sold their condo. He’d sat beside her on the big leather sofa and explained everything. “I have a job opportunity in New Orleans, which is driving distance from Baylorville. That’s where Grandma lives, remember?”

“And Remy,” Birdie had put in. She dreamed about Remy nearly every night. Her soft voice and nice smile. Birdie felt safe around her. Not Daddy-safe—like he could beat up anybody who tried to her hurt her, but I-won’t-ever-leave-you safe. Her mommy wanted to be that kind of person, Birdie knew, but her sickness didn’t let her.

Darla, the therapist, explained the whole thing nearly every time Birdie saw her. The whole thing was getting old, which was another reason Birdie was glad to move. That, and she wanted her daddy to be happy. In her dreams, Daddy smiled a lot. And laughed. With Remy.

“Remy,” she cried one more time, her hand automatically touching the little medal on the chain around her neck.

And, suddenly, she appeared, her golden hair falling softly around her shoulders and face. She was wearing a dress, like Birdie. Only, hers was white. She could have been an angel. Except, angels weren’t supposed to cry, were they?

“Birdie,” Remy said, pushing the screen door out so she could open her arms. “You’re here. I saw you in my dream last night. I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too,” Birdie sobbed, her words lost in the warm, safe arms of her personal angel.
Me, too.