Father, Where Are You

Part 1
Search for the truth


Doreen had always had a memory of man holding her hand and saying kind words to her. She remembered the scent of his cologne and the feel of his beard against her face. He dressed almost like a cowboy, with his jeans and boots. Doreen also remembered the nice man giving her a ride in a large truck. It was thrilling to view the road from the panoramic windshield, sitting so high off of the ground. And best of all was the sound of the air horns, like a locomotive.

It had been twenty years since she had last asked her mother about this mysterious man. Doreen had been thirteen at the time. As usual, her mother denied the existence of such a man.

"You have always had such a vivid imagination, Doreen. I'm sure you must have dreamed about this person, probably as a result of some movie or one of those silly romance novels you are always reading. You're a teenager now, and it's beyond time you let this go. It simply never happened." her mother, Ruth, admonished.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time to let it go. She made a conscious effort to do just that, but there was no defense against the occasional unbidden dream or the glimpse of a stranger on a crowded street who looked familiar for no logical reason. But for the most part, Doreen went about her life pretending there was no mystery man, that he was merely a childhood fantasy.

Doreen was tired, but immensely satisfied after spending the day selling herself to a major real estate company based in Nashville, Tennessee. After her initial application process began six months ago, she was selected as one of the final three candidates chosen for a lengthy, face to face interview. At three in the afternoon she was told she would be notified of their decision, giving no indication of what the outcome would be. She wasn't feeling optimistic as she drove back to her hotel room to freshen up for the five hour drive home to Indianapolis. One of her competitors was easily ten years her senior with far more experience. The other was a lady about her age, but with more education and specialty training.

She was just out of the shower and packing her suitcase when her cellphone chirped. Her mother had been checking on her incessantly, not about the prospective new job, but worried sick about her daughter making such a long, solo car trip. Not bothering to look at the call screen, she answered with a casual hello.

"MS Samples?" a deep, male voice asked, which Doreen immediately recognized as belonging to Oscar Dunlap, President of Marketing, a man she interviewed with today.

"Yes, it is." Doreen answered, feeling trepidation creep up her spine.

"Congratulations, Doreen, you will be heading up our new Indianapolis office. If you want it, that is."

"If I want it? Of course I do." Doreen exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

"Wonderful. I understand you want to give you current employer a notice and I appreciate that. I will email you the location of our new office. Plan on meeting with the contractors there on the first and help design your office. It's a new building, from the ground up. I know you will do a fine job representing the company."

Doreen wouldn't be making the drive home tonight after all. Oscar invited her to a celebratory dinner that evening at a fine restaurant only a few blocks from the downtown hotel she was staying at. Three other associates joined them and she was made to feel welcome by all.

Not much of a drinker, Doreen had two glasses of wine with her meal, followed by a cognac with desert. Feeling all warm and fuzzy as she crawled under the covers, she dropped into a deep sleep almost immediately. The dreams began almost as quickly. In the first one, a tall man wearing a western style shirt entered the restaurant and sat at her table during the dinner just hours ago. He didn't speak and no one found his arrival to be unusual. He just smoked a cigarette, while the others went about their meal. Then he got up and left without a word.

In the fluid way dreams transcend from one to the next, Doreen was drinking her wine when the table started moving from left to right. Only it was no longer a table. It was the dash of a semi truck. Detecting the odd, but somehow pleasant mixture of tobacco and cologne, she discovered it was emanating from the man behind the wheel. He wore the shirt he was wearing in the restaurant with the addition of a ball cap pulled low on his forehead and dark tinted sunglasses.

"I'll have you back in Indy before you know it, sweetie. Just as soon as we finish this run out to LA." he told her, in a soft southern drawl.

Other dreams followed, but none as distinct as those two. She awoke refreshed, still excited about her new position, but the effect of the dreams was undeniable. She always thought of dreams as a subconscious look at the past, but she was coming to the realization that they could very well be prophetic, as well. Nonsense, she told herself, but couldn't convince herself it truly was.

 

An early start allowed Doreen to miss the worst of the morning traffic and she made good time going north on I-65. Having skipped breakfast, she decided on a light lunch to tide her over until she arrived back home. For no apparent reason, other than to avoid eating fast food, she pulled up to a truckstop in central Kentucky. By no means an expert on the subject, Doreen thought the place to be of the old school variety, what she always imagined a truckstop should look like. The squat, concrete building had a flat roof and a no-nonsense, functional look. Gas pumps for automobiles were in the front and diesel pumps for the big rigs were out back, convenient to the expansive lot set aside for weary truckers to park while they ate, showered or simply got a well earned sleep.

The diner inside had a comfortable, homey ambiance with the smell of bacon, fresh biscuits and strong coffee beckoning one to pull up a chair. The waitress greeted Doreen as if they were old friends, her speech accented with a mountain flavor. Doreen choose a small table facing the wall mounted television an ordered biscuits and gravy, something she was never able to prepare for herself, not well anyway.

The lady on the Weather Channel spoke of a snowstorm moving in from the west, coming across Illinois by midnight and covering Indiana within the next twenty-four hours. Doreen was thankful she would be home by then, not having to travel on the slippery roads. Her thoughts of the weather were interrupted by the sight of the man, a trucker, she presumed, entering the diner. He looked to be in his fifties, with his neatly trimmed beard having gone nearly completely gray. He walked with an easy gait, albeit with a slight stoop, as if worn down by decades on the road. His denim jeans and shirt were clean, but well worn, as were his boots.

Doreen forced herself not to stare as he pulled up a chair at a neighboring table, glad to be distracted by the arrival of her meal. Seconds later she was struck by perhaps the strongest feeling of deja vu she had felt in her entire life. The distinct, metallic click was no longer a common sound since the advent of butane lighters. Neither was the petroleum smell of the lighter fuel followed by the sound of the old Zippo snapping shut.

When the waitress brought out his coffee, the tall stranger ordered bacon, eggs and grits with a smooth drawl, like a true southern gentleman. His voice foreign and yet familiar. He sounded like Georgia, or maybe Alabama, places she had never been.

As Doreen rose from her chair to walk to the register, she fought an irrational urge to go over to the man's table; ask him where he was from, how long had he been trucking, did he remember giving a little girl a ride?

That's ridiculous, she told herself. Not wanting to embarrass herself by asking a total stranger what he would perceive to be inane questions, she merely paid for her meal and left. Back on the interstate, Doreen tuned in to a talk radio show on her satellite radio, primarily for the distraction, to focus on something other than her own thoughts, She began, for the first time, to doubt her own sanity.
Doreen was only blocks from home when she answered her cell phone, the tone telling her it was her mother, who seemed frantic. "Oh, Doreen, where are you?" she asked, without preamble.

"I'm almost home, Mom. Is anything wrong?"

"Thank goodness you're here. Do you have the house key with you that I gave you?" her mother said without answering the question.

"Yes, Mom. It's always in my purse. Now will you please tell me what is going on?"

"I'm afraid I have gotten myself in a little jam. It is my turn to treat the ladies from the book club. We are at that new Greek restaurant, Tomas, on Jefferson Pike and my credit card has been declined. It's my fault. I received the new card in the mail last week and I forgot to activate it. It's in the desk in my study, top left drawer. Could you be a dear and get it for me? This is so embarrassing, especially since the staff doesn't know me."

"Of course I will, Mom. I'll be there as quick as I can."

"You're the best. Please hurry, but be careful. Love you."

Doreen was certain one of the other ladies had the money to cover bill until she could be repaid, but her mother's pride wouldn't allow her to ask. No matter, they lived in the same neighborhood and Tomas was a short drive from her mother's house. The mission could be accomplished in ten minutes. Besides, she was anxious to see her mother and tell her all about her visit to Nashville and how she would be designing her very own office, not to mention being regional manager of an emerging real estate company.

In her haste, she inadvertently opened the drawer on the right, rather than the left. The envelopes in the drawer seemed old, not of the sort that would contain a new American Express card, but Doreen continued her search. One of the envelopes slid off of the top of the loose stack that had formed on the desk where she was tossing them after inspection. Bending over to retrieve it, she discovered that loose photographs had spilled onto the floor. Hurriedly gathering them up, she paused to inspect one of them, for it was different than the others, which all seemed to be of scenic vistas, vacation pictures, perhaps.

When the realization hit her that she was looking at an image of herself from maybe three decades ago, she sat down on the floor and became entranced with the picture. It was an old type Kodak print, with the date it was developed stamped on the back. This one read May, 1983. She would have been four. Who was the slender man with the beard and dark glasses? Did he drive the big truck his boot was propped on? He is holding a cigarette in one hand. Is there a stainless steel Zippo in his pocket? She tried to mentally age him by thirty years. What would he look like today? Were her previous night's dreams a premonition? Is this all some crazy coincidence? Her head was spinning with questions.

One question could only be answered by her mother. Was this man her father? Her mother always told her that her father left before she was born, just up and disappeared one day. Doreen accepted that as a young child, but now it suddenly seemed unlikely the explanation was true. In fact, she now felt it was a downright lie. She felt vindicated that the man of her dreams was real, and he had once held her. That was most likely the very truck she always believed she had ridden in.
Doreen lost all track of time as she became mesmerized by the old photograph. Her feelings were an odd mix of elation and anger.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of her cell phone. It was her mother, of course. "Doreen, where are you? It has been over half an hour. I'm in a bad spot here."

Doreen made no attempt at civility. "I'm doing the best I can, Mom. What drawer did you say it was in?"

"I distinctly told you the one on the left." Her voice taking on an edge of it's own.

"OK, I have it now." She found it immediately after opening the left hand drawer.

"It's about time. Now just hurry up."

"I'll be there when I get there." Doreen replied, having never spoken that way to her mother before.

Doreen took an inventory of her life as she drove to Tomas. Her mother had married Glenn when Doreen was six years old. Her step father was not an exciting man, but he was a loving father, always there for her. Glenn was a college professor, a born teacher. It was obvious he enjoyed helping her with her homework and special assignments. In fact, she always gave him the lion's share of credit for her straight A average throughout her schooling and her excellent college entry exam scores.

Doreen had overheard private discussions her parents had over the years and most of them pertained to having another child. Glenn wanted to father a baby, but Ruth vehemently disagreed. The closer Doreen got to high school graduation, the further the couple grew apart, it seemed. They divorced shortly after she began college fifteen years ago. It was almost as if her mother had married him for a specific purpose; to ensure her daughter excelled academically.

Was it a coincidence that Ruth rarely, if ever, dated anyone? Her only activities seemed to be the ladies book club, lunch with the girls, etc. She had taken numerous "business trips" with a female coworker, always vague about their destination, of exact purpose of the trip. Doreen had no problem with any of that, other than the deception.

Her real problem was the fact that her mother attempted to erase her birth father's memory, a man who at some point wanted to be a part of her life.

As Doreen entered Tomas, Ruth was standing by the cash register, tapping her foot, obviously agitated. Not allowing her mother to get in the first word, she slapped the credit card down on the counter. It took all of her willpower to not confront her mother at that very second. Instead she merely said "I'll see you outside."

"Now, do you mind explaining your rude behavior and telling me just what in the hell is going on with you?" Ruth demanded.

"Perhaps you can explain this." Doreen responded, forcing herself to be calm.

Ruth paled visibly at the sight of the photo, her face contorting into a grimace. She looked as if she had been physically struck.

"I see you found it. I didn't realize I still had it. I thought I had destroyed all traces of that man."

"That man? Don't you mean my father?"

"Doreen, sweetie, I've only wanted the best for you. Glenn was an educated man. He came from a good family, with some culture. Not like a common truck driver."

Doreen couldn't believe what she was hearing. "A common truck driver? Does he even have a name? Is that how you describe the man you obviously felt the urge to sleep with? Did his physical attributes make him a worthy sperm donor, like Glenn's teaching ability qualified him as my tutor until you threw him away as well?"

"It wasn't like that at all. I only wanted the best for you. His name was Steve Reid and he was from Savannah, Georgia. I was a part time shipping clerk at a paint distributor in Fort Wayne, working my way through technical college. He picked up a load going down south a few times a month and he started asking me out. He seemed nice enough, so I finally accepted. I was young and careless, got myself knocked up. I really liked Steve, but I had to be realistic. He was an uneducated southerner, not a good role model for my daughter. After you were born, he kept coming around, wanting to spend time with you, but I knew it was just an act. I foolishly allowed him to give you a ride in his stupid truck and you loved it. That was the last straw. I had a restraining order issued and told him he would be arrested if he ever came around again,"

Doreen was aghast at this admission. She had wanted the truth, but now she wondered if ignorance truly was bliss. Her view of her own mother changed at this very moment. She was utterly devastated.

"I think I saw him yesterday. I almost spoke to him." Doreen told her mother, flatly.

"Oh, Doreen, stop it .You are insane. I blame myself for not getting you into therapy years ago."

"Therapy, really? For what, to reinforce your lies? If anybody needs therapy, it is you, Mother." Doreen said as she marched toward her car.

"Doreen, wait!" Ruth shouted to deaf ears.

Doreen's Honda Civic seemed to drive itself back through town and on out to the interstate highway, heading south to Kentucky. Steve wouldn't be there, she knew. He could be crossing Ohio at this very moment, en route to New York. He could very well be on his way back south, or even up to Chicago. But she knew where to start. The waitress named Jeanie seemed to know him. She would know how often he stopped in. Doreen would beg her to help. Maybe he bought fuel there. There would be a record of that, including the name of his company, his signature on the receipt.


She held the picture against her heart, glancing at it occasionally, memorizing the image of her father as a young man. She wouldn't give up until she found him.









Published by Richard Reese
U.S.Army veteran 73-80 Driving big rigs ever since, lower 48 and some Canada. Working a more relaxed schedule now, finally having more time to write. After so many fits and starts, hoping to one day soone... View profile

 

Part II
Back to Kentucky


Steve Reid and driven straight through from Atlanta, Georgia to Smiths Grove, Kentucky with a goal in mind. After seeing Jeanie at least once a week for the last year, he had finally built up the nerve to ask her out. He always sat in her assigned section and knew her schedule by rote. He felt he was becoming an annoyance, but she never seemed to mind. In fact, she would often spend her breaks chatting at the table with him.

She knew he was single, but he revealed little about his past, other than the bland, general information that is anything but revealing. He knew she was single as well, and was ten years his junior, not a big gap, considering he was fifty-five. He was also perceptive enough to notice that she caught the eye of other men and if he failed to share his feelings for her, it could soon be too late.

Now, all of that was forgotten for the moment as he stared in awe at the old photograph Jeanie had placed before him. Without looking at the date, he knew exactly when and where the picture was taken. More importantly, it was the last time he had laid eyes on his only child.

"At first, I didn't know if I should have even told you about this. I mean, she could have been anybody. But after talking to her, I started believing her and I thought you should know." Jeanie explained.

"No, it's OK, Jeanie. You did the right thing." Steve murmured, though he was barely listening, his thoughts racing back nearly three decades.

Steve knew at once the photograph was authentic. His buddies laughed at him good naturedly when he bought that ugly truck with the school bus yellow rims. But he had gotten a good deal on the truck and in time had it repainted to his liking. More so, that was unmistakably Doreen. She had just turned four years old and her mother had allowed her to ride with him on a fifty mile trip to return some pallets to a warehouse. He remembered stopping at a Tastee Freeze to buy her an ice cream cone, and letting her stand in his lap to pull the leather strap for the air horns. It all came rushing back in an instant and he was overcome with emotion.

 

A week earlier
On the way out of town Doreen stopped at a UPS Store and had a hundred copies of the picture made. She would stop at every truckstop from Indianapolis to Atlanta if she had to. But first, she would visit Jeanie in Kentucky. Doreen didn't even remember the exit number or the name of the town where the truckstop was, but she would recognize it. Pressing her luck, she drove at least ten miles over the limit all the way back down there, her mind on nothing now but finding her father.

Darkness had fallen by the time she reached Smiths Grove. Scanning the restaurant, she saw no familiar face, so Doreen approached the cashier, asking about the waitress named Jeanie.

"Oh, honey, Jeanie is working the day shift this week. She went home at three. She will be back in the morning. Do you want to leave her a message or anything?" the cashier told her.

Doreen couldn't hide her disappointment. "This is really important." She pleaded. "Is there any way you could call her for me?"

"I'm sorry honey, but I never disturb employees at home unless it's a family emergency. You seem like a nice enough lady, but I just don't know you. If you want to come back in the morning, I'm sure she will be happy to talk to you then."

Doreen was dejected, but understood the cashier respecting Jeanie's privacy. "Is there a motel nearby?" she asked the cashier.

"Sure, honey, right across the road. The same man that owns this place owns it. If you like, I can call over there and get you a discount as a truckstop customer. Don't get your hopes up for anything fancy, but it's nice and clean. My cousin is working the desk tonight."

"That would be nice, thank-you." Doreen told her, resigned to start anew tomorrow.

Having been driving on emotion and adrenaline all afternoon, Doreen didn't realize her state of fatigue until she flopped down on the bed. This was the first time in her life she had driven five hundred miles in a single day and it all came crashing down on her at once. She also realized she hadn't eaten since she was here much earlier today. Too tired to care, she fell asleep with her clothes on; but not before staring once again at the picture of her father through tear filled eyes.

 

Part III (almost 3000 words) is currently under review at yahoo. I have submitted it as previously unpublished material and am not free to publish it elsewhere until they publish it first.
Hopefully I will be able to post it here this weekend.
I'm glad you are enjoying it and thank-you for your patience.

 

After failing miserably at realizing anything resembling any sort of decent sleep, Jeanie got up two hours prior to her usual time and started a pot of coffee. "What's the matter, honey, can't sleep?" asked her elderly mother, who entered the kitchen upon hearing the old percolator begin it's familiar gurgling.

She always knows when something is on my mind, Jeanie thought. "I thought I might go in early today. It looks like this storm is going to hit us, and you know how these roads get around here. I know Sue Ellen would be grateful if I relieved her early. She lives clear out on the other side of Bowling Green, and it could be a nasty ride if this mess gets here when they predict it will. There are already some flurries dancing around outside."

What she told her mother was true, but it wasn't the reason she couldn't sleep. All she could think about was the disturbing phone call from Jo Ann, the second shift cashier, telling her about the woman from Indiana who wanted to see her. Jeanie came close to driving back out there, but the idea of meeting a strange person at night in a motel room didn't seem very wise. And she couldn't help but wonder if it was the same young lady who seemed to be taking an interest in Steve, earlier that day. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she decided to visit the motel room this morning before her shift began, providing the mystery woman was still there.

After sharing some coffee and local gossip with her mother, Jeanie decided to head on over to the truckstop, visiting the motel en route. Light snow was already settling on the windshield of her twelve year old Pontiac, but the wipers swept away the wet flakes easily. She knew it wouldn't be so easy as the temperature continued to drop. The rural, two lane highway was only wet, the fat flakes melting as they hit, but she knew that that too would change soon enough as well.

Jeanie identified two vehicles in the motel parking lot with Indiana plates; the first being a Chevy Tahoe parked at the end of the building. She ruled that out in favor of the Honda Civic, only three doors from the office. Jo Ann had told her it as a smallish import. The bell tinkled over the lobby door as Jeanie entered. Thankfully, Jo Ann's cousin, Debbie was behind the counter, whom she had known since elementary school. Debbie told her the woman's name was Doreen Samples, and she had appeared distraught when she checked in the night before. Jo Ann also informed Jeanie that Doreen had been in the lobby just minutes before, helping herself to a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll.

Jeanie told Debbie about Doreen eating lunch at the truckstop the day before while Steve was there, and how she appeared later that night trying to contact her. "It just seems to be too much of a coincidence that she was there when Steve was there, and then wanting to talk to me the same day. I can't help but thinking she is up to no good."

"You shouldn't think the worst of her without a reason. Maybe you're just a tad jealous?" Debbie said with a mischievous grin.

"Now why would I be?" Jeanie countered, defensively, blushing. "He's just a good customer, and maybe I feel a little protective, that's all."

"OK, whatever you say. So, are you going to ask her what's up? I know you didn't come over here just to see me."

"Yeah, that was the plan. Do you think it's safe for me to see her?"

"If you're asking if I think she's dangerous, the answer is no. She seemed perfectly sane to me, just tired and worried. I think you will be fine, shug."

 

Doreen slept like a rock. She couldn't remember when she had ever been as exhausted. Feeling disoriented waking up in a strange motel room, she initially thought she was still in Nashville, before realizing that was the night before. She must have awoken at some point during the night and undressed, for she found herself under the covers. She didn't remember turning on the television on either, but she obviously did, and it was on the Weather Channel.

Oh my Lord! Doreen thought. She remembered something about an approaching blizzard, but that seemed like ages ago. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. The earnest sounding meteorologist behind the desk spoke of near record amounts of snowfall in Saint Louis, Missouri and Paducah, Kentucky. Terra Haute and Evansville, Indiana were currently under siege, with Indianapolis and Louisville due for a big hit by early afternoon. The storm was not only dropping huge amounts of frozen precipitation, it was moving rather fast. The unusual development was the direction of travel. Having moved on a direct path since it left the west coast, the storm took an unexpected turn to the southeast. That was good news for Chicago, Detroit and Cleveland, but not so good for places like southern Indiana and Kentucky; areas not expecting the brunt of the blizzard. Even Nashville was warming up the few snowplows they had and considerable coverage was expected as far south as Alabama and Georgia.

Checking the time, Doreen saw it was still too early for shift change at the truckstop and opted for a shower and whatever breakfast was offered in the lobby. Common sense told her she should be heading north right this minute, if she were to have any chance of all of making it home today. But there was no way she was leaving without first accomplishing what she came for, which was talking to Jeanie.

The coffee hit the spot, as did the cinnamon roll. Just as she decided to go to the lobby for a refill and another roll, there was a knocking at the door. Even as she did it, Doreen knew it was foolish to open the door, especially in a strange place, without at least looking through the peephole or asking who it was, but in her haste to find out about her father, she didn't take time for caution.

Apparently the woman standing outside the door wasn't expecting her knock to be answered so quickly, for she appeared startled. Neither of the two women spoke for several seconds as they each sought to recognize the other. Doreen was dismayed to see snowflakes coming down now, when just a half hour earlier, it been only cold and clear.

"Oh, you must be Jeanie." Doreen said, finding her voice, at last. "Please come in. I don't know how you found me, but I'm grateful you did."

"Small town." Jeanie answered, as if that explained everything. "Jo Ann, the woman you spoke to last night, called me and curiosity got the best of me, so here I am."

"Have a seat, please." Doreen offered, as she pulled them each a chair from the small table in the corner. "I'd offer you something, but as you can see, I'm a little short on supplies around here."

Realizing an attempt at humor when she heard it, Jeanie smiled and replied "Oh, no, that's quite alright. I should have brought you something."

"That's awfully kind of you, but I guess I should tell you the reason for me asking about you." Doreen looked around for the photo, not realizing she had been holding it when Jeanie had knocked on the door. She at last looked at it in her hand as if seeing it for the first time. She handed Jeanie the old picture, almost reverently.

"The little girl is me when I was four and the man holding me is my dad. That was the last time I ever saw him. I believe the customer you were serving yesterday while I was there is the same man." Doreen said quietly.
She watched Jeanie carefully as she studied the image, not seeing any flash of recognition as she had hoped she would.

"This is an old picture. People change a lot in thirty years, and I have only known him a year or so."

"Yes, I realize that. I was just hoping maybe you would see something, anything the least bit familiar." After a hesitation, she continued. "I see the way you are looking at me, but I'm really not crazy and I can't blame you for being protective of Steve; I'm sure he's a nice guy, I certainly hope so, anyway."

Jeanie's eyes widened at the mention of her friend's name. "How do you know his name?"

"My mother told me, yesterday, in fact. I had just found this picture and confronted her with it. Before that I had no idea about my real father. I know this must sound absolutely bizarre to you, I know it does to me also, but it's the truth."

Still looking at the picture Jeanie said "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but I don't see how I can help."

Being a seasoned real estate agent, Doreen could tell when somebody was holding back. She felt there was more going on here than meets the eye. This woman was closer to Steve's age than she was hers. Maybe she had feelings for him and was feeling threatened, which was perfectly understandable. And as a sales person, Doreen knew that applying too much pressure can ruin a deal as quick as anything. Sometimes tact and diplomacy smoothed the bumpiest of roads.

"Jeanie, you don't know me from the man on the moon, and all of a sudden I just pop into your life out of nowhere, inquiring about a man I think you may care about." Doreen began, speaking softly. "Well, I care about him too, at least I did at one time. This isn't about child support or custody or alimony or any other legal nonsense and I swear that's the honest to God's truth. I just want to see my father after having been lied to nearly all my life. Surely, you can understand that." A tear trickled from her eye as she finished.

Jeanie's expression softened, the plea, spontaneous and unrehearsed, having had the desired effect. Doreen wrote her name and cell phone number on the back of the photo and handed it to Jeanie.

"Just show him this and you will know. If he wants to call me, he will."

Jeanie accepted the photo. "I'll do that for you. I can't know exactly when he will be back, but I will show him." Doreen sensed Jeanie was still holding back something, but let it go, not wanting to spoil the progress she had made.

"Is there a chance he could show up today, you think?" she asked, hopefully.

"I have never known him to come through here on a weekend, and I would hate to see you stranded here in this weather." Jeanie answered, truthfully. She held back the fact that she was certain he would be here Monday, just as he was nine out of ten weeks. But she felt it was only right that Steve make the decision regarding seeing her or not. It would be wrong to allow him to be ambushed. After all, there may be a reason he hasn't seen his daughter, if she really is, for all these years, something that hasn't been disclosed by Doreen.

Doreen reluctantly agreed, pulling back the curtain, only to see that the snowfall had intensified. "You're right. There is nothing to be gained stuck in this room all weekend. Thank-you so much. You don't know how much it means to me that you are willing to help. I really appreciate this. And one more thing, even if he doesn't come in, could you please call me anyway, so I won't be wondering?"

"I will, honey, I promise. And if it's not Steve, I hope you find him, because I understand more than you think. My daddy went to Viet-Nam when I was a baby and he never came back home."

Those words lay heavy on Doreen's heart as she made her way back to the interstate highway. The snow was steady, but still fairly light as she let her car settle in at five miles under the limit, which seemed to be the natural flow of traffic. Searching for a news/weather station on the radio, she noticed for the first time the dark, menacing skies to the west and shuddered. Her home state of Indiana generally took great care in keeping the roadways free of snow and ice, but it was difficult, if not impossible to keep up with sudden, unusual amounts of snowfall. Another concern was the remaining hundred miles of Kentucky, mostly hilly, with some long, steep grades of which she was fearful, should they become slippery with ice.

Doreen was almost feeling optimistic about her chances of making it home without incidence when things took a sudden and unexpected turn for the worst. She was only forty miles from the state line and the relatively flat ground of Indiana, a half hour under normal conditions. But things were far from normal as she topped the grade near Elizabethtown, the highest elevation along her route; the air was much colder here, as was the road surface.

The driver of a pickup truck, pulling an overloaded U-Haul trailer lost control in a curve, careening wildly across all three lanes, into the path of an eighteen wheeler, which had been attempting to pass on the left. Unable to brake hard and maintain control on the icy surface, the driver of the big rig swerved hard to the right in an attempt to avoid crushing the pickup truck and it's occupants. It looked as if the maneuver was successful until the big, refrigerated trailer began it's own frightening slide in the opposite direction, throwing the semi into an inexorable jack knife.

Doreen watched in horror as the events unfolded before her and her mind raced to weigh her options. The pickup truck was nose down in the median by now, with it's U-Haul trailer occupying the left lane. The big Kenworth tractor was on course to collide with the mountainside, as it's fifty-three feet long trailer swung wildly across the right and center lane.

There was simply nowhere to go, she thought as she applied her brakes in a vain attempt to stop. The Honda's anti-lock brakes were no match for the icy surface as the car careened on a collision course with the stalled big rig. Doreen's world went from shades of gray to black as she slid underneath the trailer.

 

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" came a voice from another world, or so it seemed to Doreen, waking up in a lucid state, albeit totally disoriented. She had never felt so lost in her life.

"Thirsty." Doreen replied, when she found her voice.

"I imagine you are, but I want you to speak with the doctor first. He said to let him know the second you woke up." Noticing Doreen looking at the tube in her arm, the nurse added "That's just a saline solution to keep you hydrated. Are you sure you don't feel any pain anywhere?"

"Maybe a slight headache, now that you mention it. I'm awfully hungry, too. I feel like I haven't eaten in a week."

"That's understandable. It has been at least two days. As soon as the doctor approves it, we can move you out of ICU, and into somewhere more comfortable. Then you can have something to eat and drink. Ah, Doctor Shelby has arrived." the nurse announced as a distinguished looking, white haired man entered the room. His eyes were a pale blue and his smile seemed genuine.

"Sarah told me you seemed to be coming around about twenty minutes ago. It looks like I came by at the right time. Before we continue, I just want to tell you not to be startled when you look in a mirror. It's nowhere near as bad as it looks. The damage to your face is superficial and will heal quickly, although your friends may think you've been in a bar fight."

The skin around Doreen's eyes was a dark shade of purple that would later turn yellow as it healed. Her lips were swollen, with a slight split on the upper one and evidence of the nosebleed had since been cleaned up. The doctor would go on to explain that these injuries sustained from the air bag deployment weren't all that uncommon. Doreen flashed back to the recall notice she had received, and ignored, concerning her air bags. The manufacturer had warned of some of the devices being possibly overcharged and she should return her vehicle to the dealership immediately for inspection. This was what, eight months ago? Why could she remember this so clearly and not have a clue as to why she was laid up in a hospital with a battered face and a tube in her arm? She was about to hear an explanation.

"Doreen, I think you may have suffered a concussion, which is not at all uncommon in light of what you have experienced. Other than the superficial face wounds, we have found no other physical injuries. Most importantly, your cranium is intact. It's not unusual to find a hairline skull fracture in these cases. That in itself is not necessarily as critical as it sounds, but it is certainly better not to find that. NFL players take hits like this and are back on the field the next week, but there is evidence that doing that repeatedly can lead to long term damage. I don't envision that in your case. Hopefully you won't make a habit out of this." He added a smile to the last statement.

"So that would explain the headache." Doreen commented.

"Yes, plus the fact you haven't eaten. We will give you something for the headache with your first meal. My major concern, now, is your memory. Do you know your name, where you live, your birthday, basic things like that?" Doctor Shelby asked.

"Why sure, at least I think so. My name is Doreen Samples and I live in Indianapolis and I'm in the real estate business. I was born on June the eighth of 1979." She answered confidently.

"Very good. Now can you tell me what brought you here, to the hospital?"

"I can only assume I was in an automobile accident, but I honestly can't remember."

"You are in Elizabethtown, Kentucky. You were traveling north, presumably back home to Indiana. Do you know where you were coming from?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

Doreen frowned in concentration before answering almost triumphantly. "I had a job interview in Nashville. Yes, that was it, and I got the job."

"That was Thursday. You had the wreck on Saturday. Today is Monday. What happened in between? No one intentionally invaded your privacy, but an EMT went through your handbag seeking any relevant medical information, which they do routinely, to check for any known allergies or medications you may be on. In the course of that, he found a business card from a gentleman at a real estate company in Nashville reminding you of your appointment. Additionally, your mother was listed as person to notify in an emergency on your insurance documents. She told the nurse that you were back home Friday afternoon and you left almost immediately, heading back down south. Does any of this ring a bell?"

"I remember Oscar Dunlap calling me at my hotel room to tell me I had the job and inviting me to a celebratory dinner. Afterwards, I went back to my room to rest up for the return trip. I don't remember anything else. I think I'm mad at my mother, but have no idea why."

After getting settled in to her new room, Doreen pondered the missing part of her memory from Thursday night in Nashville until her car crash on Saturday morning. And why hadn't her mother come down to see her, she wondered. Her cell phone seemed to have been damaged in the crash. Sarah explained that an EMT found it in the floor and dropped it in her handbag. She tried to call from a hospital phone and her call went straight to her mother's voicemail. There was no way to tell how many missed calls she had on her smashed up cell phone. Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knocking on the inside of the open door. It was a police officer.

"Pardon the interruption, ma'am. I hope you don't mind an unexpected visitor. The nurse said it was OK to come see you." said the Kentucky Highway Patrol sergeant as he removed his hat. He was a tall, slightly muscular man in his late forties. His iron gray hair was not overly short, but neatly trimmed and his uniform was perfectly pressed. His polished nameplate read Swagger. Doreen thought he spoke like what she imagined the perfect southern gentleman might sound like.

"Come in, please. Glad to have some company, actually." Doreen said, feeling herself smile for the first time since she had been conscious.

"How are you feeling, ma'am? You sure had me worried Saturday morning. I was first on the scene. I just happened to be about a quarter of a mile behind you when it happened. When I saw your car pinned beneath that rig, I said a quick prayer. All in all, you came out better than it might have looked. I'm glad to see you in good spirits. "

"I'm almost afraid to see what my car looks like. Can't be any worse than my face, I suppose. Am I in any sort of legal trouble, Sergeant Swagger?"

"On the contrary, and please call me Clint. I spent some time with the truck driver after I made sure you were taken care of. He was a nice gentleman from Florida, on his way to Chicago. By the way, he just feels terrible about everything, was worried to death about you. Anyway, he had remote cameras installed on the front and rear of his vehicle. He was nice enough to replay the scene for me. He had hit the record button when he saw the pickup losing control. There was nothing he could have done to predict or prevent what happened. Got some good video of you coming up from behind, also. It shows you following at a safe distance and doing everything you should have been doing. I don't see how you could have known to do anything differently than what you did."

"I am so glad to hear that. I was worried that I may have caused the accident. It's awful not being able to remember something as serious as this. Was anyone else injured?"

"The driver pulling the U-Haul broke his wrist. He slipped on the ice getting out of his vehicle. One more thing, the trucker said he would be glad to share his video with your insurance company. He seemed awfully worried about you."

"He sounds like a sweet guy. Tell me something, is it your normal procedure to visit accident victims in the hospital? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the company. I was just wondering."

Clint seemed a bit embarrassed, but answered truthfully. "No, ma'am, it's not normal procedure at all. But when I saw you all banged up in that car Saturday morning, it got to me. You see, I have a daughter just a little younger than you, and she even looks a little like you. I just hope somebody cares enough to check on her if something ever happened and I wasn't around."

As he left, Doreen wondered how she had reached a point in her life when she could lay in a hospital for almost three days and the only visit she had was from a total stranger. She then picked up the TV remote, hoping a movie would take her mind off of any more depressing thoughts. Before she could decide what to watch, a nurse entered the room with a message.

"Your father is here to see you."