Dovetail(5)

“No, I . . .” He ran his hand over his shaggy dark hair. “I don’t know why you claimed me as your grandson, but I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m sorry to have to tell you I’m not related to you. My name is Joe Arneson.”

His confession amused Pearl. “I know your name,” she said. “Arneson is my name too. I’m Pearl Arneson. Your father is my son.”

“My father?” He squinted, puzzling it out.

“Your father is Bill Arneson, is he not?”

“Yes, that’s his name.” The duffel bag dropped to the pavement. “But maybe we’re talking about a different Bill Arneson? My dad’s mother died a long time ago. Before I was born.”

“Good news,” she said, rifling through her large purse. “Not so dead after all.” She pulled out the two birth certificates that proved their shared lineage and thrust them toward him. “I’m not surprised he told you that. Bill always did have a flair for the dramatic.” And a sense of righteous indignation, she thought. He was probably still mulling over all her wrongs decades after the fact. As if he were so perfect.

Joe took what seemed like an exceedingly long time to read over the birth certificates. She could almost see the wheels turning and the gears locking into place as he made the connection. Mother to son, son to son, grandmother to grandson. Howard motioned toward the car, and she waved her permission for him to get behind the wheel. Standing was difficult for him.

Joe looked up and met her eyes. “So why would he say you were dead?”

Pearl grimaced. “We had, shall we say, a falling-out.” A mosquito buzzed around her face, and she brushed it away.

“A falling-out?”

“Yes. I’m sure you love your father very much, but he can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. Likes to hold grudges. That kind of thing. It’s not a very interesting story, but I can tell you later, after we get home. You do want to leave here, right?”

“Right.” He handed the paperwork back to her, and she stuck it into the middle compartment of her purse.

“And you don’t have any other way of leaving. No trains or buses around here.” She glanced around the parking lot ringed by trees. On the drive in, they’d passed a whole lot of nothing. Just one small rural town after another, with farm fields and woods in between. “You could hitchhike, I suppose, although it’s getting dark.”

He put two fingers to his chin, a familiar mannerism. “How did you even know I was here? Did my dad tell you?”

“Ha!” She spat out the sound. “Don’t go giving him the credit. It was me who saved your butt. This was all me.” She pointed to herself. “It was meant to be, I tell you. I phoned your house, trying once again to talk some sense into your father. He’s a stubborn man, but I had planned on apologizing this time just to placate him.” This was not the truth, but it served her purposes. “As it turned out, he wasn’t home, but I had a nice conversation with your sister, Linda. I didn’t even know I had a granddaughter, if you can believe that, but I found her to be a lovely girl with very nice telephone manners.” She grinned. “It didn’t take me but a minute to get the truth from her. She told me that Bill and his wife had stuck you in here. And for what? A few bad dreams? I couldn’t believe it! No one in our family has ever suffered from any sort of mental deficiency. It’s an outrage. It was then I devised a plan to spring you. No one treats my grandson that way!”

She’d expected admiration for her cleverness, the way she’d tracked him down and gone to so much trouble to help him. Praise for how resourceful she’d been. Appreciation for all her efforts. Clearly, that wasn’t forthcoming, but she would have been happy with even a little gratitude. A thank-you would have gone a long way.

Instead, he said, “Is Linda okay? I haven’t talked to her in weeks.”

Pearl waved her hand. “She’s fine. If you just get in the car, we’ll be at my house in no time at all. You can call her from there and talk to her yourself.”

“Maybe there’s a phone booth down the road I could use?”

“There’s nothing down the road, believe me. Just get in the car.” She saw the hesitation on his face. “Please, Joe? It’s getting dark, and Howard’s eyesight isn’t the best, so we really should get going. We’re just two old codgers who wouldn’t hurt a fly. We’re not going to hold you against your will. Just come to the house, and we can sort out the details later, okay?” Off in the distance, the chirping of insects broke the silence. “If you want, you can stay for the summer. I have a project I could use some help with. I’d pay you a good wage.” She tried to read his face. Had she broached the idea of staying for the summer too soon?

“I can’t believe I have a grandmother I didn’t know about.”

So he was still stuck on that. “Yes, I’m sure that was a shock to find out,” Pearl said. “I’m guessing there’s a lot you don’t know about your father’s side of the family. If you come with me now, I can show you lots of family photos. The family home is about two hours north of here, in a charming little town called Pullman.” She gave him a forced smile. “You might find it illuminating. It is your history, part of who you are.”

Joe vacillated. He’d never heard his dad mention a town called Pullman, but then again, his father had always been evasive when talking about his childhood. Once Linda had asked where he grew up, and he’d answered, “Nowheresville, Wisconsin.” They’d laughed then, but he wondered why no one had ever pressed the issue. Probably because they’d sensed he didn’t want to talk about it.