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Maisey looks up and answers, “It’s Miss DeeDee.”
I say, “Hello Miss DeeDee.” Maisey laughs. “What so funny?” I put my hands on my hips in mock confusion.
“Miss Deedee doesn’t talk yet.”
I have to laugh at myself. Of course, she doesn’t.
Maisey and I have tea and chat about nothing in particular. I made a peanut butter sandwich, and split it into four pieces, so everyone could have a bite to eat. Maisey fed Floppy and Miss Deedee. When I tried, she said I was not Miss Deedee’s mom and therefore I could not feed her. Very intuitive for her age.
Once Maisey went down for a nap, I went snooping around the house looking for anything and everything that would tell me who Parker was. The first day was a bust. I looked in photo albums and scrapbooks. I pulled out drawers and felt behind them for hidy holes and found nothing but pictures with just his first name and the usual junk drawer items like tape scissors and random bolts and screws. I didn’t dare look in the office yet. I had to keep an eye on Miss Bailey too. She was a wiley one, turning up when least expected. The second day, during Maisey’s nap I hit pay dirt.
I bundled up my courage and stepped inside the office after talking myself up. I was surprised it was unlocked but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. On the wall was a certificate. As I looked closer I saw it said Parker Smith, not Parker Madison.
I knew it.
Piedmont North Dakota.
He is Josie's brother.
Was Josie’s brother. Does someone stop being a brother when their sister passes? I didn’t know the answer to that question.
I am shocked it took me seeing his last name to figure out who he is. He has the same green eyes as Josie and their noses are basically the same.
The realization of who he is awakened other memories, sad memories. The day of the funeral when I said goodbye to my best friend and looked over to where Parker was standing. He was stoic, and calm. No emotion. I remember wanting to run over to him and knock him down, get some sort of reaction from him about his sister's death. Instead, tears streaked my cheeks as I put a rose on her casket and turned away. At the reception afterward he just sat in a chair, his face in his phone. He ignored condolences and handshakes regretting his loss. It was like he was body snatched and replaced with a robot. When I tried to talk to him, he sneered at me and walked away.
So this is where he ran away to hide while the rest of us dealt with Josie’s death. I had wondered for years what happened. He just up and left. He buried his emotions, started an artificial intelligence company, and never looked back. He even changed his last name. Probably too ashamed of where he comes from. Coward.
The anger bubbled up and simmered just below the surface. The memories flooded back with a vengeance. I tried to pushthem back down, but they were coming at me like a seventy-mile-an-hour wind.
When Parker arrived home that evening, instead of eating with them, I took my meal in my room and stayed there, feigning a headache.
The following day, I tried to avoid him. I had thought I heard the front door close, so I got up and padded into the kitchen for some of Ms. Baily's delicious coffee and there he was, sitting at the kitchen island, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. I murmured a greeting.
“Good morning Cam. How are you today?” His cheery voice grated on my last nerve.
I poured my coffee, grunted, and left the kitchen before he could initiate more conversation.
How can he not recognize me? I thought. He tortured me, made fun of me, and was pretty much a jerk the whole time we grew up together. I guess it was easy for him to forget the people that didn’t matter to him. But he mattered to me, in a big way. The crush I had for him I thought would torture me til the end of my existence. Josie’s big brother. I will never forget how much I wanted him to notice me. When he did, it was for all the wrong reasons. To taunt and torment me. It’s probably why he hired me. So he could continue to torture me. I guess some people never change.
Chapter 4 - Parker Madison
I sit on the balcony and drink my coffee. Gazing out, I see the skyline of New York City. It is one of my favorite ways to start my day, besides being with my daughter.
I love Sundays.
This is my day to relax and hang out with Maisey. Unless it’s an emergency, I don’t work. We do whatever Maisey wants to do on this day. I’m gone so much during the week, she gets only snippets of my time. I can give her this one day and it is always a pleasure to spend time with her. Maisey is the light of my life and I look forward to every Sunday.
The sun is bright and the sky is cloudless. The hustle and bustle of the city below is but a whisper up here and I can see the entire city from my perch. I never thought I would end up in New York when I was growing up. Living in Piedmont was a day-to-day existence. Any thoughts about the future were swallowed up by chores, school, and responsibilities. I never really could see ten feet beyond my nose. I wasn’t lazy or stupid, I just didn’t have a clue.
Small town living was never for me and I will forever be proud of myself for getting out and making a name and life for myself. If I had stayed in Piedmont I never would have met my late wife or had Maisey. I had no clue what my life would have been like without them but I am glad I never have to find out.
Hearing the patter of pajama feet heading in my direction, I put my coffee down just in time to catch the tiny bundle that threw herself at me from the doorway. I cuddled her in my arms as she and Floppy snuggled in close.
“Good morning precious girl. How are we this morning?” I include Floppy in this because the last time I didn’t, there were tears.
“We are tired,” she says, her voice still sleepy. She leans against my chest and I hear soft breaths and realize she has fallen back to sleep. I kiss the top of her head and lean back in the chair slowly so I don’t wake her.
I look down at her sleeping face. She reminds me of her mom so much. They have the same curly hair and big eyes. Sometimes I have to look away before Maisey sees the tears in my eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep them at bay and switch my thoughts to something else.
