Ties That Bind Page 5

  “Ok, let’s get the car loaded. McDonalds or Burger King? ”

  “Let’s live precariously. Burger King,” I said laughing.

  We both ate in silence with only the occasional sounds of chewing and slurping hot coffee as noise. Spunky was interested in our food as well. Even though I knew it wasn’t good for him to have human food, I gave him a couple of pieces of bacon and some of my egg as a reward for being an outstanding traveler.

  * * *

  I remembered when we got Spunky. He was the runt of the litter, and Carole wouldn’t leave without him. A Terrier mix, Spunky was the spitting image of my aunt’s dog by the same name.

  I clearly recalled the day. I was about six years old, and I was so excited about our visit to Aunt Margie’s house. I had been told they’d gotten a new addition to their family, a dog.

  I ran as fast as I could into her house to see the little dog. Little did I know, he wasn’t fond of children. Before they could stop me, I was in the house, sitting on the couch and petting the little dog. Aunt Margie couldn’t believe her eyes. From that day on, Spunky and I were inseparable.

  When our family adopted a pup that looked so much like Spunky, we decided to name him the same. It seemed fitting, and the children loved the name.

  The closer we got to Sioux City the more nervous I became. I guess it held too many sad memories for me to be happy. I was hoping it would feel different. I mean I did have some happy moments. They were just too few and too far between and almost all of them had to do with Daddy.

  I forced myself to recall some of the happier moments. The homemade sled Daddy had made, my days of running in the park with my best friend, even the days in the pool hall, listening to music, and watching my parents shoot pool when I stayed up way too late for a child my age, and meeting my aunt’s Spunky for the first time.

  Charles could sense I was no longer looking at scenery, but deep in thought. “You ok?”

  I nodded, “Just thinking about some stuff.”

  “It’s going to be ok,” he said touching my hand.

  I studied his face. He was telling the truth. He’s been with me all the way, and everything would be ok. I relaxed my shoulders.

  “Let’s finish up breakfast and get on the road,” I said eagerly.

  Charles reached over and patted me on the leg. “That’s my girl.”

  * * *

  All we could see were acres of growing crops—mainly corn. That was our constant landscape for miles and miles. It was a vast canvas with only a palette of neutral and yellow colors that began to run into each other like frames on a camera with only the occasional farmhouse, tractor, or scarecrow to break up the monotony. This was America’s farmland.

  We passed several little roadside fruit and vegetable stands. They were almost as impressive as California’s. I convinced Charles to stop. While he walked Spunky, I picked out a couple of peaches, some fresh corn, and some tomatoes.

  Charles put the fresh produce in our little ice chest in the back of the car, and we were off. We’d be making Sioux Falls in a few hours.

  “Just rows and rows of corn,” Charles said as he tried to find a radio station.

  “Yep. Living here, you’d be in a world of hurt if you didn’t like corn,” I chuckled.

  “It’s good for you that I love corn,” he said laughing. “How many ways can you fix corn?” He quickly asked, trying to keep the conversation going. It had been a long, boring drive through Nebraska and Iowa.

  “Well, the most popular way is boiling it. But in California, we grill everything, so that’s my preference.

  “Yeah, I like all the vegetables grilled. A little olive oil, salt, and pepper, and hmm good,” he said. “Are you about ready for a rest stop?”

  “I could stretch my legs,” I said re-positioning myself in the car seat.

  We stopped and were not the only ones eager to get out and stretch our legs, Spunky was too. He sniffed every garbage can and tree trunk before finally settling on a place to do his business. Then we were on our way again.

  “I estimate we’ll be pulling into Sioux City in about two hours,” Charles, the navigator said.

  I looked over at my husband and smiled. Even at fifty-seven, he was as handsome as he was the day we got married. His hair was now grayer, but he had the same laugh lines and wrinkles I had.

  Chapter Eight

  Charles and I found a quaint little motel for our first night in Sioux City. Our plan was to find a more permanent housing situation, but the motel would do for now. It was clean, with the basics, and that was good enough. The desk clerk was very friendly, so what the hotel lacked in shine, the staff made up for.

  We asked about good places to get dinner. The clerk had several recommendations, but we settled on Denny’s because Charles wanted breakfast for dinner. I was good with that as well.

  Returning to the motel, Charles walked Spunky. Then we did what all travelers do after a long day in a car, we fell into bed exhausted. As tired as I felt, I didn’t sleep well the first night. However, it didn’t have anything to do with our accommodations. Too many things were running through my head. And, although it had been years since I stepped foot in that state, I swear it felt familiar.

  I finally drifted off to sleep and woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and donuts.

  “Oh, that aroma is wonderful,” I said in between yawns.

  “I stepped out since you were still asleep. The clerk told me of a bakery down the road. I got fresh apple fritters,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Over coffee and fritters, we looked over the newspaper he’d bought as well. I was looking at the local section of the paper, and Charles was looking at the real estate section.

  We’d agreed that it would be best to rent a small bungalow that allowed pets so that we could take our time, and at the same time be as comfortable as we could.

  “This one sounds promising. One bedroom, one bath with a fenced in backyard near Chester Park,” he read aloud as he took out his pen and began circling a few of the ads.

  I smiled. “Near the park would be nice. I remember that park. I used to go there a lot.”

  Charles looked at me, blinked a couple of times and then went back to looking at houses for rent.

  “The only other house I see is on W. 2nd Street. Do you know where that is?”

  I shook my head. “I think it’s downtown.”

  “I’ll call about the Chester Park house right now,” he said as he reached for the phone.

  * * *

  It was a quaint little bungalow built in the 50’s long after I moved away. In fact, I recalled an empty lot where the house now stood.

  We knew almost instantly we’d take the house. It was perfect for us and for our mission. It had all the requirements—a bedroom, a bathroom, and a fenced in yard for Spunky, and it was completely furnished.

  We told the property owner we’d take it, signed the papers, paid the deposit, and got the keys.

  We unloaded the few possessions we brought with us, and I made a list of the items we’d need. I knew a town of this size would have a Wal-Mart.

  “You go ahead and get the shopping done. I’ll stay with Spunky. He needs to get used to his new space.”

  Reaching down, I gave Spunky a pat on the head and turned to give Charles a kiss on the cheek.

  He turned slightly, and our lips touched. I started to pull away after a quick peck, but he held our kiss, and something about it felt different. He pulled me in closer and the kiss became passionate. It seemed an odd time for this to be happening, but I went with it. I kissed him back, and he was leading me into the bedroom. “So much for the shopping,” I whispered as I tossed the list onto the coffee table.

  * * *

  I hadn’t set foot in this town in over 40 years, yet I still felt I knew my way around. I drove right to the Wal-Mart, even though it had not even existed when I lived there. Later, Charles and I discussed how I had driven right to the supercenter. He chalked it u
p to me being aware of my surroundings and knowing the direction the downtown area and shopping would most likely be. I nodded my head. I guess he had a valid point.

  As I walked up and down the aisles looking for the items on my list, I couldn’t help wondering if anyone would recognize me. How would someone recognize me after all this time?

  I felt a bit anxious about being in the store by myself. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought someone would run up to me and say, “Patsy. Is that you?”

  I had an excellent memory, which made me a great private detective. I could remember things that happened when I was three and four years old. Why was it so out of the realm of possibility that I would recognize someone from my past? After all, many people from small towns such as this never leave.

  I finally finished my shopping and got up to the checkout counter to pay for my things. As the young lady rang up my items, I searched her face for details, for a resemblance to anyone I might have known. She smiled at me. I smiled back. We made small chit chat about the weather, and when the last item was placed in my bag, I decided to be bold.

  “Have you lived here long?” I asked.

  “All my life,” she answered.

  “So your family has been here for a long time?”

  “For as long as I can remember,” she said as she handed me my change.

  “Well, it’s a lovely town. I’m new. We just moved in.”

  “Where are you living?” She asked.

  “We just rented a little bungalow across from the park.”

  “Oh, I know right where you mean. My family knows the owners.”

  I smiled. Not sure, of what else to say, I gathered up my bags and placed them back into the cart.

  “Have a great day,” I said as I headed out the automatic glass doors.

  My heart was beating fast as I loaded the bags into the trunk. If this is how it was going to feel when we began to poke around, I’d better get used to it. There were many deep-seated secrets in this town regarding my birth. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble; I just wanted to know the truth. Was Lyle my real dad (like Irma had hinted at when she mentioned he’d been promiscuous) or was my adoption just a cover up for a family member who’d been careless?

  I knew Charles was just as anxious as I was about finding out the truth. He would have never committed to this adventure if he didn’t believe that solving this mystery would help me somehow. I loved that he loved me that much.

  For our first night in the new house, we made hot dogs and chili for dinner. Afterward, we settled into the evening by reading. I was reading a new romance and Charles was reading a detective book.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll get the phone hooked up. We’ll need it,” he added turning the page to his book.

  “Ok, that sounds great.”

  After reading a few pages, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt about the time when I was a little girl, and we were at my Aunt and Uncles farm. The chickens were chasing me, and my mom grabbed one of them and rang its neck so we could have it for supper. Watching that caused me to lose my appetite. They all laughed at me and told me I was a crybaby. What I remember most, though, was how easily my mother killed that poor chicken. That apparent cruelty was burned into my memory.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, we made the trip to the telephone company and afterward, went for lunch. Charles said it was a good way to get to know our surroundings. We ordered sandwiches and fries and sipped on freshly brewed iced tea. As we ate, we went over our strategy regarding the search for information about my parents.

  We agreed the first thing we’d do was go to the old neighborhood where the pool hall was.

  We’d lived in a few places in that town, so we planned to check them all out. Charles also wanted to drive by the farm where my aunt and uncle lived. We’d looked up my maiden name in the telephone book and saw several families with the name. Charles said we could do some cold calling. I was a little afraid of that, but I followed his lead.

  He looked up from his plate and stared into my eyes. “This reminds me of the days when we were hitting the pavement,” he said eagerly. I could see the enthusiasm in his eyes.

  I smiled. “We’re the perfect duo for this,” I agreed remembering what a team we were.

  His grin told the entire story. Charles was enjoying our new adventure.

  As we made our way across town toward the pool hall, another memory surfaced. Next door to it had been another building with a dance hall upstairs. On weekends, my parents and their friends, with kids in tow, would go there. As the parents danced, we children would sit around and play jacks, and watch our parents laugh and be loud. I wondered if the old building was still there.

  With the map on my lap, I highlighted the area we were looking for, and when we arrived at the address where the pool hall had been, Charles slowly drove by. It looked all different. I checked the map and notes to make sure we were in the right place. Nothing looked the way I remembered it.

  “According to the map, this is it.” I said. Nothing looked the same.

  “Are you sure?” He said as he continued driving.

  He made a U-turn and headed back to the gas station. He pulled into the parking lot and parked the car.

  I got out and looked around trying to get my bearings. Nothing looked the same. I closed my eyes and attempted to picture our apartment, and the building next door to us.

  I tried to remember what was across the street and down the block.

  With my hands blocking the sun from my eyes, I searched the area looking for clues.

  “I remember a large hill that was behind my house. We used to go sledding on it.”

  I walked to the other side of the gas station to try to see it. It was there but didn’t appear as big as I’d remembered it.

  Charles followed me. “Children sometimes remember things as being bigger, or even small than they actually were,” he said trying to calm me.

  “Across the street is where my best friend, Lisa lived,” I said pointing to a three-story apartment building that now stood in place of her home.

  “They tore everything down,” I said sadly.

  “That’s progress for you,” Charles muttered as he reached out to take my hand.

  A tear formed in my eye, and I brushed it away. It was too soon for tears. We’d only just started the search.

  We drove out to the last address I had for Uncle George and Aunt Toot’s farmhouse. There among rows of corn stood an old farmhouse. The paint was peeling from the boards and the front porch that had seen better days. The old farmhouse was much smaller than I remembered.

  We drove up to the front of the house and got out of the car. Before either of us could step foot onto the porch, the screen door flew open, and a sour-looking woman about my age wearing an apron stared at us.

  “H-h-hello,” I stammered.

  She stood stone cold saying nothing.

  “Hi, wondered if you could help us. We’re looking for some folks,” Charles said.

  “Who might that be?” She replied curtly.

  Charles looked at me, and then he directed his attention back to the woman on the porch. “The Bowmans. We’re looking for the Bowman family.”

  She looked at me, and then she looked at Charles.

  “There’s no one here by that name,” she said, and as quickly as she came out she went back inside, slamming the screen door shut behind her.

  Charles took my hand. I was shaking, and he knew very well that this incident had upset me.

  “I don’t think she’s telling the truth, but we’ll let it go - for now,” he said as we walked toward the car.

  We drove in silence for a while. Finally, I had, to say something. “What makes you think she’s not telling the truth?”

  “Well for one, she wasn’t very friendly. Most Iowans are very friendly. She wanted to get rid of us. You’d usually pick up on that, Pat. You have excellent investigative and instinctive skills,” he added smiling.

  �
�You’re right. I felt her uneasiness with our presence. I suppose it’s too close to home.”

  “That’s Ok, that’s why you brought me along,” he said, gently squeezing my hand.

  “We may be searching for a needle in a haystack, Charles. Aunt Toots and Uncle George had left Iowa before we did. That old farmhouse has probably changed owners a zillion times,” I said looking out the car window at row after row of corn. Charles just kept driving.

  “See all these rows of corn? We used to run and hide among the stalks. We were dirt poor, but we had so much fun in those days. We didn’t know we were poor or, at least, we didn’t care,” I said, smiling about the days I played on the farm.

  Sometimes I felt Charles couldn’t relate to my stories. His family had been pretty well off. His dad was a big shot in the car industry in Michigan. Charles was educated and had military experience. I felt like a dumb farm girl from Iowa by comparison.

  “I realize that maybe the lady doesn’t know anything about your family, but I still think in a small town such as this, stories still float around or are passed down from family to family. I think she might know a little something.”

  I turned to him, and although his eyes remained on the road, I spoke to his face. “Whenever you say enough is enough I’ll be ready to leave too.”

  He cut his face sharply to look at me. “We just got here, Pat. Give it time. Besides, we’re retired now. This is for fun. Relax. Take a chill pill,” he said laughing.

  Although he didn’t see it, I nodded.

  “Let’s look for the convent,” I said with the enthusiasm I knew he wanted.

  Chapter Ten

  I felt nervous as we entered the building. I’m not sure why, except that we were about to find out some things that maybe I did not want to know.

  Just inside, we were greeted by a smiling young nun dressed in the habit of her order.

  “Hello. How can I help you?” She asked.

  I gently nudged Charles. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to ask the difficult questions yet.