Light snowflakes tumbled outside the front apartment window as Sarah and her mom set out their boxes of Christmas décor. They had collected several boxes of various ornaments from stores and loved ones through the years, but only one really mattered to her. Sarah had won it at one of her aunt’s holiday parties when she was ten.
“There we go.” Her mom placed the last section of their artificial tree together. “As beautiful as the day we chopped it down at that yard sale.”
Sarah shook her head wearing a smirk. “Mom.”
“What? We did, didn’t we?” Karla rummaged through an old cardboard box labeled, ‘xmas stuff’. “I think we left it in here last year.”
“You’d better not hang it on the tree.”
Karla dug into the box of miniature reindeer and porcelain elf houses, paying Sarah no heed. “I’m pretty sure it was this box.”
“Mom, don’t touch my ornament.”
Her mother tossed a playful glance over the rims of her reading glasses, and then produced the little green porcelain pickle on its string. “Ta da!”
Sarah rushed over and snatched it out of her mom’s teasing grasp. “Give me my pickle.”
“Okay, okay.” Karla rummaged through the box. “Hang your pickle, kiddo.”
To an undiscerning eye, the ornament appeared to be nothing more than a shiny, cheap ordinary dill. Sarah and her mom knew better, though. It represented one of the best Christmases in their memories.
Sarah eyed up the tree for the perfect perch for her pickle. “You remember how crazy Johnny and Joanie ran around Aunt Trish’s tree at that party?”
Karla laughed as she set out the red and green bulbs on the sofa. “I thought your cousins were gonna tear her tree to pieces.”
Sarah snorted as she rounded the far side of their tree. “I thought Uncle Don was going to chase them halfway home.”
Karla exploded in a fit of laughter that doubled her over on the sofa. “He came up with some colorful places to stuff that pickle.”
Sarah fell back against the wall and convulsed from her joyous fits. “Those two must have trampled every gift under the tree.” She wiped back her tears and went about hanging her ornament. “I really miss Aunt Trish’s parties.”
“I know.” Her mom handed her a red bulb. “That’s life in the Army, kiddo. You go where they tell you.”
Sarah took the sparkling sphere and hung it on the tree. “Where is she stationed again?”
Karla downed a swig of her eggnog and set the mug back on her coffee table. “Last I talked to her, she was still down in Florida somewhere helping train their cops or something.”
Sarah hung a green Christmas bulb close to its red counterpart. “I wonder what Johnny and Joanie are up to these days?”
“Dunno.” Her mom set the hook on another scaled-down North Pole abode. “Stayin’ outa trouble, hopefully.”
Sarah placed the small fake gingerbread house on the tree and strode into the kitchen.
“You all right?” Her mom lifted a hand as she passed.
Sarah turned the small radio under the microwave on and tuned in a local station playing holiday favorites. This is nice. Really nice. The snow intensified to an all-out shower and blanketed the trees on the far hill. Her mom plugged a string of white lights into the nearby socket helping to set the surreal scene.
“Still work, thank God.” Karla tossed the string of lights to the floor.
Sarah went back to decorating the tree while her mom wrapped it in lights. Everything’s coming together for a change. Only a few of their ornaments remained in the last box.
“Ah, darn it.” Her mom jabbed a fist into her thigh. “Sarah, can you run up in the attic and get the star down? I can’t believe I forgot it.”
She strode toward Karla’s bedroom with a spring in her step. “Sure, mom.”
The access to their scuttle attic sat tucked in a corner of her mother’s bedroom. Fortunately, the owner of the apartment had installed a retractable ladder into the pull-down attic access. She made her way to the back corner of the room and gave the dangling cord a strong tug. Having secured the small set of stairs on the floor, Sarah ascended into the musty cold hollow.
“God, it stinks in here.” She covered her nose and mouth.
Sarah turned the attic bulb on with a pull of its string. A small inhabitant scurried out into the elements as she invaded its home. Red planks of worn oak lined the floor in the cramped space. Several boxes and plastic bins lay strewn about in disarray.
“Where do I even start in this mess?” Sarah crawled into the hoard shoving containers of vinyl records and old papers out of her way.
A tiny fountain of silver tinsel wavered in the light draft from the open door. Sarah crept over to the small white box and removed it from the box of files and papers. One of these caught the teen’s attention as she turned back in the direction of the steps.
“No way.” Sarah slid the faded sheet out from under her old grade school class pictures. “Ugh. Whose idea was it to sculpt my hair in to a red mushroom afro?”
She held the yellowed paper into the light. “Untied Medical Center, 1976. Yup, that’s me.” Sarah sat down and read over her birth record. “Was I a morning baby, or an afternoon one? Given my habits, I’d vote afternoon.”
Her drifting eyes stopped on the document at the line of information on her father.
Last Name/ First Name Middle D.O.B D.O.D.
Jenkins, Albert R. 9/14/1958
“No date of death?” Her mouth went dry. The paper shook in her hands. She peered at the postage stamp on the outer envelope for the record: Aug. 21, 1981. A searing anguish welled up beneath her pale skin as she placed the record back into its box. “Now isn’t the time.”
“A you all right, kiddo?” Karla bellowed from the living room.
“Fine!” She crawled to the stairs and planted a foot on the top rung of the ladder. “Be down in a sec.”
Sarah closed up shop and strode back into the living room hatching a passive way to prove her theory. If I come out and say it, she’ll shut down and not share a thing. She stopped at the thermostat on the wall and turned the dial up to seventy-two. How to go about this tactfully.
“Mom?” She rounded the corner of the sofa. “Can you tell me about my father?”
Karla scoffed as she plugged in another strand of white lights. “Why do you wanna dig that old bone up for?”
She shrugged, dropping the faux gold star on the couch. “The time of year just gets me to wondering about what it would have been like to have one, I guess.”
Karla sighed and retrieved the crowning ornament from the cushion. “I know I’ve told you about it at least a dozen times---”
“I know, mom.” She walked over to the window and let her mind sail among the cascading flakes. “Could you tell it to me again, please?”
Her mom’s head fell back on her neck. “Fine.” She stuffed the top of the tree into the base of their multi-colored star.
“Your dad and I knew each other back in high school and dated for most of that time. We went to Liberty, too. It was probably just as crappy then as it is now.” She took a seat on the couch and finished off her drink. “Anyway, we were in love back then and one thing led to another… Then, you came along.”
Sarah watched her mother’s gaze fall to the worn shag carpet.
“A few months later,” Karla said, “we all got the bad news that your father had been in a serious car accident and died.”
“When did that happen?” Sarah asked as she crossed her arms at the window.
“That would have been in ’77, if I remember correctly.” Karla took her mug to the kitchen sink and gave it a quick rinse. “What does it matter?”
Sarah wagged her head slowly, her glazed stare transfixed by winter’s dance. “Guess I was just curious. That’s all.”
“Well,” her mother said, heading down the hall to her bedroom, “I’ve gotta get changed to go in to work.” Her voice trailed off into the sixty-cycle hum of the heating unit. “Why don’t you go grab some T&L for dinner later?”
“Maybe.” The slam of her mom’s door cut her word in half.
Sarah plopped down in the armchair and collected her thoughts. She says he died in 1977. If that’s so, then why is there no date of death on my record? She criss-crossed her legs in the chair. The wreck did happen after I was born, but the date on the envelope was from 1981. She likely got that copy before I went to kindergarten. Why wouldn’t his death show up three years after the fact?
Karla flew into their kitchen and grabbed her lunch from the fridge. “I’m on the way back out, Sarah.” She fluttered her free hand at the mess on the floor. “Could you put those boxes and things back up in the attic later?”
“No prob.”
Karla pulled on her black coat and laced up her work boots. “I’ll see ya in the morning, hon.”
“Yup.”
“Don’t stay out too late.” She shut the door behind her with an extra stubborn tug.
Bing Crosby’s voice bounced around the hollow space as she surveyed the room. “Guess it’s just you and me again.” Her blue eyes came to rest on the telephone in its charger. “Then again.”
She hopped out of the chair and dialed Collin’s number. “Come on, be home.”
“Hello?” a woman answered.
“Mrs. Rogers?”
“Yes.” Her voice came across as stately and refined. “And who is this?”
“It’s Sarah. Is Collin home?”
“Mmm. Let me see.”
That was definitely a bad ‘mmm’.
In a few minutes, Mrs. Rogers came back on the line. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m afraid I can’t find him.”
Great.
“May I leave a message for him?”
“Could you just tell him that I called?” Her tone sounded like someone had let the wind out of her birthday balloon.
“Of course, dear.”
Was that a hint of condescension?
Sarah clicked off the phone and dumped it into its cradle. A dull pain throbbed just behind the bridge of her nose. She pulled a twenty-ounce bottle of soda out of the fridge’s door and knocked back a mouthful.
“Just what I need right now.” She clutched her lower abdomen. “I hope she bought more pads.”
BLEEP.
“Holy!” Sarah jumped away from the flashing LED on the phone’s cradle.
BLEEP.
She pressed the talk button and set the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Did you just try callin’ me?”
Whew! There is a Lord in Heaven.
“Hey, Collin. As a matter of fact, I did.” She strode to the couch and nursed her soda. “Your mother said you weren’t home.”
Collin sighed into the phone. “I’ve been here the whole time, babe. I swear.”
“I believe you.” She set the pop down on the coffee table. “What’s your mom have against me?”
“I don’t know.”
She gritted her teeth and painted an imaginary ceiling mural with her eyes.
“What did you want?”
Sarah shifted to the edge of her seat.” Oh, yeah. I wanted to see if you could run me up to the Clerk’s Office in Clarksburg.”
“Man.”
“Don’t whine,” she said. “You’re far less attractive when you bellyache.”
“But, it’s snowin’ out and cold,” he said.
“Tell ya what.” She got up from the couch and stacked the empty boxes over in the hallway. “You give me a lift and I’ll buy us dinner.”
“Hot dogs and cookies?” The excitement returned to his voice.
She giggled into the phone. “If that’s what you want, sure.”
“Deal! What time you want me over?”
Sarah tossed another empty box down her mom’s side of the apartment. “Whenever you can get here.”
Collin’s voice trailed away from his end of the connection. “I’ll be there in like ten minutes.”
The soft hum of a dial tone filled the void. “Love you, too.” She turned it off and toted the phone back to its resting place. “Men.”
The dull pain in her abdomen called her to the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah,” she said with a moan. “I’ll deal with you first.”
No sooner had she turned the exhaust fan in the bathroom off than the telltale clown-car honk beckoned Sarah out the front door. After putting on her shoes and coat, she grabbed her purse and locked up behind her.
“Your chariot awaits, madam.” He popped the passenger door ajar.
“You’re such a gentleman,” she said, getting settled.
Collin drove them out in the direction of I-79 North. “So, what’s at the Clerk’s Office? More history stuff?”
She shrugged and turned on the radio. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Listen.” He turned on the merge ramp. “I’m sorry about my mom and all.”
She placed her hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle tap. “Don’t worry about it. I guess I just rubbed her the wrong way or something.”
“She’s just---” He merged onto the highway and sped up over the small hill.
“Doesn’t like me?” Sarah’s gaze hardened as she stared out across the passing landscape. “Not good enough for you? It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
Collin leaned against his door. “Whoa! I didn’t intend on picking a fight or anything.”
Her gut clamped down in a wave of stabbing agony. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” She dug her nails into the flesh of her palm until the wave receded. “I’ll try to contain myself.”
The silence ended when Collin cut the engine off in the parking lot of the City Hall. The snow squall had tapered to a few stray flakes swirling around the building’s dome. Sarah wrapped her coat close to her body and led them out of the chilly afternoon and into City Hall.
“What are we looking for exactly?” He unzipped his leather jacket.
She pushed her purse up on her shoulder as she strode up to the main desk. “I’ll do the research part if you’ll give me a hand with the copying.”
“Consider it done.”
Someone’s grandma waddled up to the opposite side of the desk and set her plump hands on its polished oaken surface. “How may I help you two today?” Her snow-white curls reminded Sarah of Gram.
“Hello.” Sarah smiled. “Could you help me find the deeds for a particular person?”
The clerk’s head tilted to one side. “Depends on who you’re lookin’ for, dear.” She waved the couple into the room behind her counter. “Some of them are easier to locate than others.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Sarah fell in behind the clerk.
“Do you have a name or an address, honey?”
Sarah halted at a long table near the center of the Deed Room. “I’ve got a name, ma’am.”
“The name’s Colleen, honey, not ma’am.”
“Thanks, Colleen.” Sarah handed her the torn slip of notebook paper.
Colleen went right to work pointing to each worn spine as she shuffled down the wall. “There we go.” She tugged on a huge brown book with all of her might, but surrendered in a huff. “Can you get that down for me, young man?”
“The name’s Coh---” he grabbed the book and set it on the table behind them. “Ah, never mind. It would be too confusing.”
Colleen licked a thumb and flipped through the legal-sized pages of recorded deeds in Harrison County. After a couple of unsure shakes of her curls, the clerk slapped an open page with a triumphant, “Aha!”
“Thanks again for your help.” Sarah pulled up an old wooden chair.
“If you need anything else,” Colleen said, waddling to the doorway, “just holler.”
Sarah dove into the page like a hunter to his treasure. “See that!” She stabbed the top portion of the deed with her index finger. “This deed was written in 1989 in his name.”
“Whose name?” Collin asked, sliding closer to her.
“My father.” Her eyes never faltered from the deed. “We need to get a copy of this.” She batted her baby blues at Collin. “Would you?”
He stood with a moan. “If you weren’t my girlfriend---”
“And buying you hot dogs…”
“That, too.” He toted the massive volume up to the front counter and made her request.
Sarah rounded up her belongings and joined him out front. Colleen hobbled up to the desk and slid a small stack of papers toward them. “That’ll be thirty-five cents.”
Sarah dug some change out of her pocketbook and dropped it in Colleen’s shaky hand. “Thanks again for your help, Colleen.”
The aged clerk scrunched her jowls with a, “Bah!” Colleen walked over to help the next customer. “They’ve gotta pay me to do something, honey.”
Collin turned up the heat in his Prism and drove them back into Clarksburg traffic. “Now for some of those dogs.”
Sarah bumped the heat down and buckled in. “Can we swing by someplace on the way out?”
“You wanna drive down Duff Avenue?”
She nodded studying the address on the deed. “We don’t have to stop or anything. I just want to see what the place looks like.”
“Sure.” He maneuvered the car around to the south side of town near Nutter Fort.
At the next light, he made a right onto Duff and crested the small hill. All of the homes down this street sat packed in next to one another like sardines. Most homes were the two-story variety nestled into a narrow plot of land. Their paint and stucco had been chipped away by years of exposure and neglect.
“Slow down.” Sarah pointed over his steering wheel. “There it is.”
She watched his needle dip below twenty as the car rolled past the antiquated sand-colored house. “Three-twenty-five Duff. That’s the one.”
An overweight man dug into the light blanket of snow covering his sidewalk. His unkempt red curls rustled in the breeze. Sarah nearly climbed into Collin’s lap to get a clear look at him. Hundreds of freckles dotted his rosy cheeks. The middle-aged man’s eyes sat like a pair of black coals behind his thick glasses.
“Easy, killer.” Collin sped back up and turned back out of the worn-down neighborhood.
“What if that was him?” She settled back into her seat. “I’m pretty sure it was him.”
“Have you ever seen a picture of your dad before?”
“Until today,” she said, “I was certain he was dead.”
Collin drove the car back down the interstate heading southbound. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“But we have the same color of hair.” The passing white lines glazed her blue eyes over.
“I have the same color of hair as Bret Michael, but that doesn’t mean we’re related.”
Why is my world full of jerks today? She searched the rolling hillsides for an answer. “I think I’ve got a way to find out if it’s the same person.”
“Oh, yeah?” He accelerated the car over a tall hill.
A mischievous grin spread over her face. “Yup. I’ll show you what I mean when we get back home.”
Sarah popped her front door open with a dull crack. Collin trailed in behind her carrying an armload of Styrofoam containers and two cups of soda.
“Just set it down on the table.” She kicked off her boots. Sarah tossed her coat over the arm of the sofa as she trotted past it down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”
She pulled the cord on the attic stairs and unfolded them to the carpet. I hope she’s got one. Sarah flew up the small steps like a veteran fire fighter. She flicked on the attic light once she reached the top.
“How can one person own so much junk?”
Sarah wove among the boxes in the chilly draft that seeped in from the oxeye window on the far brick wall. Some had a stray sleeve or piece of china jutting out of the top while others remained taped shut from the move.
She stopped and scanned the cluttered attic for any sign that might point her in the right direction. “More papers, my old stuffed animals…” Her eyes locked onto a white leather sleeve laying on the top of a box to her left. “Bingo!”
The nimble teen made her way back into the tight space and knelt before the partially opened container. “Just as I thought.” Sarah lifted the old letterman’s jacket out and laid it out across the boxes. The blue felt had her mom’s name stitched into it in white flowing letters.
“Softball? Volleyball?” She ran her fingers over the matted felt patches on the other sleeve. “She probably has one.”
Sarah folded the jacket and set it aside. A small collection of loose photographs covered what she sought. Her mom’s senior photo showed a different person in a better time. “She looked so happy.” The old yearbook sat shrouded in a thin layer of dust, but none the worse for wear.
Sarah pulled it out and returned the other items to their time capsule. She scurried on all fours to the steps propelled by the grumble of her belly. “You’d better not be eatin’ my slaw dogs!”
Collin mumbled something through a half-masticated bite as she descended the steps back into the apartment. Once she had secured the attic access, Sarah jogged to the kitchen huddling her treasure close to her bosom.
“What’s that?” Collin sat his mangled hot dog in its container and slurped his cola.
“I present to you exhibit A.” She brushed the layer of dust onto the carpet.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Inspector Gadget.”
She opened the yearbook to the photos of the senior class. She turned past the first several letters of the alphabet getting a few chuckles from wild hairdos along the way. Having hit the J’s, she stopped and set the open yearbook on the table between them.
“There he is.” She tapped Albert Jenkins’s senior picture. “Red curls, freckles, and all.”
Collin slid his chair around to get a better look at her evidence. “How can you tell they’re red from a black and white photo?”
Sarah slapped his arm. “Shut up.”
“I’ll definitely give you the freckles,” he said edging closer to the book, “and the cheeks. That guy today had the same cheeks.”
She brushed her hands on her jeans and dug into her dinner. “That guy we saw was him.” Sarah chased the spicy bite of hot dog with a swig of soda. “It was my dad.”
Collin moved his seat back to its original place and finished his meal. “Let’s suppose that it is your dad. What are you gonna do now?”
“That’s exactly it.” Sarah licked her fingers and snagged a thin napkin from the pile on the table. “I don’t know.”