Sheri WhiteFeather - Lost and Found Father

Ryan said to Kaley, “I got the box down from the attic this morning. So anytime you’re ready, we can look through it.”

“Really? Wow. That was fast.”

No kidding, Victoria thought. Not only had he spent time outside, he’d rummaged around in the attic, too.

“We can look through it after breakfast,” Kaley said. “Then afterward, I’ll get my photo album.” She grinned. “We can have a picture party.”

Ryan grinned, too. Boyish as hell. Victoria cursed the knee-jerk reaction it gave her.

He said to their daughter, “Too bad we don’t have any cake and ice cream to go with it.”

Kaley tapped her purple people eaters together, making the eyeballs roll around. “Victoria is going to teach me to bake.”

“Yes, she told me. That’ll be cool. You two can fatten me up while you’re here.”

He was still leaning against the counter, with his lean male hips and whipcord arms. Cake and ice cream wasn’t about to fatten him up. Funny thing, too, he probably stayed in shape from his country-fresh lifestyle, hiking and biking and lifting bales of hay, whereas Victoria belonged to a trendy gym, taking scheduled classes and running on a treadmill like a hamster on a wheel.

He refilled his coffee and asked Kaley, “Do you want a cup?”

“No thanks. I’m more of a cappuccino girl.”

“With purple feet?” He chuckled. “There’s a gourmet coffee machine in the break room at the clinic. It’s one of those single-serve models with disposable brewing cups. No one ever really uses it. I can bring it in here, if that suits you.”

She shot him a winning smile. “Thanks. That’d be super.”

He left by way of the mudroom.

After he was gone, Kaley sad, “He’s nice. He’s handsome, too, for the dad type. But so is my dad. I wonder if they’re going to become friends.”

“They’re not going to know each other very well, honey. It could be a long time before they ever meet.”

“Why? Because they live so far away? They’re going to have to hang out, eventually. I want both of them to be at my college graduation.”

“You’re only just starting school in the fall. You’ve got at least a full four years to go.”

“I know, but there are other things, too. Like me getting married and having kids. If they don’t become friends, stuff like that will be awkward for everyone.”

“Let’s focus on one life-altering event at a time.” Victoria didn’t want to consider how many times in the future that she would be required to see Ryan.

He returned with the gourmet coffeemaker and set it up, brewing a single cup of flavored cappuccino for Kaley.

Victoria finished making breakfast and set the table.

“This is nice,” Ryan said, as the three them sat down.

Apparently Kaley thought so, too. She hummed while she ate, tucked cozily between her birth parents. Victoria was glad that her daughter was enjoying herself, but that still didn’t make them a family.

Ryan remarked how good the food was, and Kaley agreed, marveling over the fact that they were feasting on fresh eggs and drinking milk provided by a miniature cow.

“This feels so fifties,” Kaley said.

“That’s the era this table is from,” Ryan told her. “It belonged to my dad.”

Victoria spoke up. “I’ve been wondering if it was the same one.”

He shifted his attention to her. “You recognized it?”

She nodded. Everything about the past was resurfacing. Everything she’d worked so doggone hard to forget.

He said, “When I first bought this place, Dad moved in with me because he was recovering from a stroke. He insisted that he was going to get well and to move back out on his own. So I put all of his stuff in storage, including this table.” He ran his fingers along the Formica. “But Dad didn’t get well. About a year later, he had another stroke and died. I ended up keeping the table, maybe because it had been around for so long.”

“How long?” Kaley asked.

“Since before my mom died, and I was five when it happened.”

“How did she die?”

“In a car crash. I was too young to hear the specifics, and I never asked about it later. Soon after she died, Dad boxed up any reminders of her, and that was pretty much the end of it. She was a wife and mother who no longer existed.”

“That’s sad,” Kaley said.

Victoria thought so, too. It also explained why his childhood home had been devoid of pictures or mementos.

Kaley turned quiet. Thinking, it appeared, about Ryan’s family. Then she asked, “Did your dad ever date anyone after she was gone?”

“There were a few women, but nothing serious. Mostly he kept to himself.”

“My dad hasn’t dated, and if he has, then it hasn’t gone well. He never brings anyone home. I don’t think that’s healthy.” She turned to Victoria. “Do you?”

Victoria frowned. She rarely dated, and the boy she’d once loved was still alive—and seated right across from her, of all things. “People need time to grieve.”

“It’s been seven years.” Kaley was frowning, too. “I want my dad to have someone in his life.”

“I know, but he has to want a relationship. And contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing wrong with being alone. My parents think that I should be married by now. But we all need to do what’s right for us.”

Victoria could feel Ryan watching her. He’d obviously never been involved in a discussion like this. But he hadn’t remained alone, not the way she had. He’d been married and divorced in the time frame that she’d been determined to stay single.

Kaley said to her, “What if someone doesn’t know what’s right for them? What if my dad doesn’t know?”

Victoria replied, “You need to trust him to find his own way. He’s an amazing guy, and he’s done a wonderful job raising you. When the time comes for him to date, he’ll handle it just fine.”

“I hope so.”

They finished eating, and Victoria cleared the table, grateful to keep busy.

“Should I go get the stuff from the attic?” Ryan asked Kaley.

“Definitely.” The teenager sounded anxious to get started on his side of the family tree.

He left the room and returned with a battered box. By now, Victoria was at the sink, rinsing dishes and getting them ready for the dishwasher.

He and Kaley sat down and began rummaging through the contents of the box. Kaley had a spiral notebook and pen beside her, preparing to catalog items of interest.

Were there pictures of Ryan’s ex amid the stacks of stuff they’d dumped on the table? Or documents associated with her, such as his marriage certificate or divorce decree? Or did the box contain only things from his childhood, the hidden-away mementos his dad had stored?

Ryan said to Kaley, “This is my mom. It’s a little faded, but it’s her.”

Curiosity piqued, Victoria forgot about Ryan’s ex and focused on his mother. She dried her hands and wandered over to the table and stood behind Kaley’s chair. “Can I see, too?”

He showed it to both of them.

The woman in the Polaroid appeared to be in her late teens, probably around Kaley’s age, and was dressed in shimmery 1970s garb. Tall and thin, with long brown hair and a natural smile, she represented the free, fun sign of her times.

“Her maiden name was Margaret Dodd,” Ryan said. “But she went by Molly.”

“She was pretty,” Kaley said. “She looks happy, too.”

He studied the image. “She was from the Paiute Nation, but I never met any of her family. I asked my dad once why no one from her side ever came to see me. He said that she’d been raised by an old aunt who’d already passed on.”

“What band was your mom from?”

“I have no idea. The Paiute are divided into three groups, with quite a number of tribes among them. I assume she was registered with one of their federally recognized tribes, because when I signed the adoption papers for you, my dad said that he would provide the documents they needed for the Indian Child Welfare Act. At the time, I didn’t think about what that meant. But later I realized that he’d probably given them my mom’s registration papers and whatever else they required to prove what tribe I was connected to.”