Surviving Valencia

“I guess embarrassing your family is hereditary,” I yelled after her, kicking my knocked over bike. The street was silent, save for the fading rumble of my mother’s car. And all was still, save for the lingering sway of the neighbor’s blinds.

Chapter 36

Jeb Wilde said he had some information for me.

“Should we meet at the Golden Dragon?” I asked.

“Yeah. How’s two o’clock.”

That was fifteen minutes away. “Sure.”

Click.

Jeb Wilde was a man of few words.

Exactly one week had passed since our first meeting, and this was the first time I had heard from him. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, intentionally leaving my cell phone behind so Adrian couldn’t reach me when he got out of the shower. I jumped in the car and drove to the restaurant. Jeb was already sitting inside.

I slid in across from him and the waitress came over. I ordered tea.

“I hope you got cash for that,” said Jeb.

“I do.”

“Don’t want to be using credit cards or checks. You got to be discreet.”

“Do you mean so Adrian doesn’t find out?”

Jeb just looked at me without saying anything, which made me feel stupid. And didn’t answer my question.

“What do you have for me?” I asked.

“So far, not much. But I like to check in, so you know I’m working for you. Forgive me if you know this already, but it’s something.” He had a manila envelope and from within it he drew two copies of birth certificates along with some old photographs.

“This,” he said, showing me a tall blonde man, “is your sister and brother’s dad. So you might already know all this, but this is how I work a case. I got to get to the bottom, look at every angle, you know.”

He had photographs of my mother with a man, posing for a dance, sitting together in a car, waving while she sat beside him on a blanket, both of them wearing swimsuits. I examined the information on the table, careful to slide it out of the way when the tea arrived.

“You need to order food,” said the waitress.

“None for me,” said Jeb.

“I’ll take an egg roll,” I said.

“Egg roll? What else?”

“Dipping sauce. Thanks.”

“Hmph!” said the waitress as she walked away.

“Who is this guy? Why do you think this is their dad, and not just someone she used to date?” I asked.

“This picture is from a Christmas dance, 1967. She would have already been pregnant. Then she marries your dad in July, after your brother and sister are already born. What a sucker. I bet she tried to get him to marry her before they came along, but he was dragging his feet. Back then you didn’t have babies out of wedlock. So the question is, what happened to this guy?” Jeb poked at the photograph. “Turns out he’s working in Tacoma at a bank. Oh, and their birth certificates have his name on them.”

“But Van’s middle name was Roger, after my dad.”

Jeb laughed. He laughed and laughed until tears ran down his leathery cheeks. Finally he pulled off his glasses and wiped them on the corner of his shirt.

“I can’t believe everyone kept this from me. What’s so funny?” I asked.