In Places on the Run Ch. 04

"That was a nice Kamikaze attack," Sam said as he walked behind me into our room. "You know, kinda sweet in a way. Sudden, but sweet."

"Sweet, if you like cobras. Notice the way the girl kept to the shadows, like maybe she's learned how keep out of danger?" I was angry, and now all I saw were two lumpy beds in a tiny room, and that's all I needed to cap off my day. It didn't matter, however, because I was already asleep as I fell into lumpy oblivion.

It was early afternoon when I awoke, and Sam was gone. I struggled up, found the head and took a shower then got dressed. I heard talking, faraway, laughter too – and fought the impulse to run, to get away from any further attacks, then it hit me.

I have a kid, a daughter I've never known, and she's out there, waiting. Hell, for all I know she's been waiting all her life for this moment, and I'd – what? Gone to bed? Sam's bed was made, so I quickly spread mine into some semblance of order, then brushed my teeth again, hoping to rid the foul taste that lingered in my mouth.

Then a simple knock on the door.

"It's open, I think."

"Dad?"

I'm speechless. I'm almost sixty years old and for the first time in my life someone has called me 'Dad'...

"Dad, can I come in?"

"Lucy? Sure, come on, it's open."

She's a pretty girl, I see, and for some reason that's comforting. Not quite as tall as Deb or myself, slim, athletic even, sandy colored hair, gray-green eyes...I look at her and just know she's making a similar inventory, trying to make sense of this, our new world.

"She didn't tell you?"

Those were her first words to me.

"No. I guess she thought it would be more fun this way."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," and she came to me, like it was the natural thing in the world for a daughter to come to her father for a hug.

And it is, isn't it. I took her and held her and cupped my hand around the back of her head

"Don't be sorry, Kiddo. Not your fault. Not mine. Not your Mom's. People do what they think best, ya know."

She was crying, crying faraway tears, I could only imagine, that had been a long time coming.

"It's alright, Luce. I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere..."

Her hands grabbed my shirt, and I felt her fists ball up on my chest.

And there I was, in the opening moments of what was likely to become a new life with my first kid, and already I'd told my first lie.

+++++

Deborah's house was on Grange Road, across the river from the old college, so it was not quite a half mile walk to the Chapel at King's College, and that's where Lucy wanted to walk that afternoon. Just the two of us, she said. We'd just finished lunch at the house, Deb and Sam and Luce and myself; Rhea was in classes for the day, still excited to be back in school, but her schedule was full.

It was a gorgeous late summer day; warm, a line of towering clouds north of town, hints of a cooling breeze ahead of the storm. We walked in silence for a minute, then like a sudden summer's storm – the silence broke.

"You never knew? Really?"

"Really, Luce. I didn't even recognize your mom on the trip, or back in LA. I was stunned, completely. I still am."

"Stunned? Bad stunned?"

I looked at her, heard the caution within her words, the traces of uncertainty in her voice. "Luce, I look at you and there's no way I could feel anything bad about life, this life. I'm not religious, but right now I see my life as a miracle. You, you are the miracle of my life. So no, I wasn't stunned in a bad way, and I'm as happy as I've ever been right now."

She stopped and looked up at me, and I could see a little happiness in her eyes dancing around the edges of a big question.

"But...?" she said.

"But I feel like I've missed out on something grand. Watching you grow up, being with you on your birthdays, all those Christmas mornings. Helping you grow up, I guess. Being there."

She nodded her head. "I never missed you. I never knew you existed. There's a part of me that wants to be mad at you, but it's impossible. Like it's impossible for me to say I love you. I don't even know you, yet I'm supposed to love you."

"I don't know about that, Luce. Babies trust their parents, I guess. Love comes later, when all those years of trust begin to make some kind of sense. When you know your mom and your dad are there for you, and..."

"And when I'm there for you?"

"Yeah, I guess that's the deal, in the end. Love is a two way street. Always has been."

"So, will I be able to trust you? Will you be there for me?"

"That's the deal, Kiddo, but we've got a lot of livin' to get caught up on. You and me. Love and trust are words, good words, but actions always speak louder than words."

"Could you teach me to fly, Dad?"

"Could I...well, hell yes, I can teach you to fly. Anytime you want."

"You know what's funny, Dad? Ever since I was a kid, I mean like five years old, all I've ever wanted to do is fly."

"That's not funny, Luce. That's me in you, and my father too. He was a pilot, in the war. That's who you are, darlin', maybe what you were meant to be, I reckon. And I bet that drives your mother..."

"Crazy!" She skipped ahead, smiling, really smiling for the first time since I'd arrived.

She was a little rebellious, I saw in that moment, just like my grandmother. It was time for me to smile, too.

+++++

We went to dinner that night, not to one of Deborah's faculty clubs but to a sweet, if rather ancient pub deep in the old town. Sam got acquainted with the man pulling the taps, then started looking at all the stockinged legs and fulsome breasts drifting by carrying soups and sandwiches.

He'd never change – I knew then – and wondered why, for a moment anyway, I'd ever considered he might. We are what we are, right? Old dogs and new tricks are bullshit.

So what was I? A bachelor so set in his ways that running away was all I knew how to do? Well, if ever there was a reason to run – or not to run, for that matter – here it was, gathered around a beeswaxed oak table that had to be hundreds of years old. How many families had gathered around this very table over the centuries. How many important decisions had come and gone with elbows planted right where mine were. How many break-ups and make-ups had these posts and beams been silent witness to? What would they witness tonight?

Lucy was on one side of me, while Rhea – and what I just had to assume was daughter number two – sat on my other side. Deborah prowled right across the planks from me, her elbows firmly planted too, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. This was all her doing. Bringing us all together, trying to build something new out of fragments of memory and the burning core of her own humanity.

And it was strange, my presence at that table. In a way I suppose I should've been the center of attention that night, yet I couldn't help but feel very peripheral to the action, almost incidental. Yet Rhea was excited. Excited about being in school again, excited about Cambridge. Excited about being a mother. Excited, I assumed, about getting married sometime soon. And Lucy. Excited about finally finding out about her father, about the possible changes this might bring into her life.

And then there was Deborah. Completely unreadable – as always. Excited? Not that I could tell.

No, she appeared the exact opposite of excited. Inert. Implacable. Set on her course, no deviation allowed.

And I still didn't have the slightest idea what her back game was. And I guess the song remains the same, eh, John? Ooh, it really makes me wonder...

(C) 2015-16 Adrian Leverkühn | ABW