Chapter 11

We were an hour south of Chicago, lost in our thoughts when Dad surprised me, “Tim, your mother gave you a powerful gift. Use it appropriately.”

He was trying to warn me but in a strange way he was also recognizing something very personal to me and apologizing for laying it bare to our friends. He was trying to say that power and responsibility ran both ways.

“Yeah, I got it, Dad. I’ll keep it under control.”

“Good. No more video, I promise.”

“Well, maybe one more video, Dad.” I explained to him that Mandy said the church basement had cameras, and the Blacks had likely caught all of the dancing on tape, or hard drive, or memory card, whatever passed for storage. I didn’t say it, but I wanted Dad to see Mandy and me Tango. It was a testament to Mom’s time spent with me that I don’t know if he had ever witnessed before.

He pulled out his phone, connecting to the Tahoe’s Bluetooth. “Call Emersons!”

The phone rang several times before a slightly breathless Mrs. Emerson answered. Both Dad and I started laughing. I let him handle this one, “My, Mrs. Emerson, it would seem that I’ve caught you at a bad time. Tell me, have you been doing something innocently erotic?” He poured on that Georgia accent.

She shrieked and dropped the phone. When Bill picked it up finally, he too was laughing, “What’s going on McKenzies? You didn’t forget something here, did you?”

Dad explained about the dancing at the church social and that I thought there might be a video of it. He mentioned that it would be a nice keepsake for me of my time spent there.

Bill was certain that he’d be able to get his hands on it, promising that we’d get a copy. “Here, my wife wants to talk to you guys.”

Dad was prepared to take it like a man, but Angie wasn’t angry at all, “You make sure you thank that Casanova of yours for me.”

Before she could get off the line, I began yelling, knowing that the phone pick up would catch it, “Hey, no kissing Dad. That’s not what she meant. Get off me!” Since Dad was driving, there was nothing he could do to me, which made it the best kind of revenge to get.

There hadn’t been a lot of fishing done recently, so before we left Chicago, we had decided to head south along the Illinois/Indiana border, stopping at Beall Woods State Park to camp and fish. Two days were spent there, seeing us leave on a Wednesday, the second week in August. We made sure we kept up our schedule of running and tossing heavy objects around, but I was getting tired of our transient lifestyle.

Dad must have been too. After breakfast at a hotel dining room in Indianapolis one morning he looked at me, uttering the words that would end up having a profound impact on my life, “I think I’m ready.”

“Pardon me?” I was chewing a piece of toast pretty loudly, at least it was loud in my personal space.

“I’m ready to head down to see my folks, and for you to meet your McKenzie grandparents.”

“So, what makes today different than yesterday in that respect?”

He paused for a moment, “I’ve been thinking about this summer, what it meant to the two of us. One of my reasons, whether I knew it or not at the time, was to strengthen my relationship with you.”

I had already figured that one out. I had even mentioned it to Mandy.

“But I think that another thing I needed to do was learn how to have a relationship with an almost-grown son, so that when I saw my dad again, I had that experience to draw from to keep me from falling back into our old patterns.”

“Tim, I see a lot of myself in you, but I also see a lot of your mother too. I know I haven’t said it enough, but I’m proud of you and I love you, and I want the very best for you.”

“You’ve taught me a lot over the summer, starting from our first night on the road. I don’t know how you do it, but you have your mother’s gift for reading people along with her compassion. That’s what makes you such an effective ‘Casanova’ as Angie said. I have to admit I was worried at first. All I could see was the potential you had for reading and then hurting others. But you don’t do that.”

He got up to get another cup of coffee. “That first night with the waitress, you managed to make her evening fun, but you also let her down gently. Then with Amber – I still don’t know what it was, but I’ve figured out that something was eating at her. I thought you had devastated her at the end of lunch, but whatever happened, she came out the other side stronger and happier. I’ve kept in touch with Professor Litton these last few weeks, and he says she’s no longer destroying the post-docs or turning undergrads into quivering masses of jelly.”

“Then there’s Mandy. That girl adores you with a for-the-ages type of love is what her mother calls it. But she knows you’re not coming back, and she’s okay with it. I hear that suit jacket will never be the same, but it is what it is.”

I had to laugh at that, but even before Mrs. Emerson confirmed it for me on the morning we left, I had suspected that’s what had happened to it.

“I have to admit,” Dad went on, “I have no idea how you did that. It seemed like everything that evening was leading up to disaster. The Tim makeover, the rigid timing, her parents not letting you meet until moments before the date began, all of that had the potential to turn a nice evening with a beautiful girl into a date with Cinderella’s sisters, both of them, the ugly ones, at the same time, in a Yugo.”

“I don’t know if you were scared that night, or if you had everything planned out, no I take that back, you didn’t have a plan, you were ‘in the moment,’ weren’t you?”

I confessed, “Yeah, but I was terrified. There was no way I could do the itinerary though. They tried to make it their date, by their rules. Mandy and I were so nervous that we couldn’t say word one to each other for fifteen minutes.”

“So how did you do it, what changed?”

“I pulled over and told her she wouldn’t have a good time that evening.”

“You what?!”

“I told her there was no way she would have a good time, and neither would I if we didn’t loosen up with each other. That’s when I sent you that text. We spent probably a half hour at McDonald’s playing a game. After that, we could have spent the night arrested and in jail together and had fun.”

“Huh, see? That’s what I mean. Even now you’re teaching me about people. My first two dates with your mother were disasters. I don’t even know how I got her to agree to go out with me a third time. If I had been able to do what you did, on your first date ever, no less, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have turned out any differently, but it sure would have gone smoother.”

Dad was introspective for a time, thinking about Mom I suppose. “So I guess I see you growing up right in front of me, and I realize what a precious gift that is to a father. That’s something my dad lost when I turned eighteen and left home, and he’s never been able to experience that with you. That’s what I mean when I say I’m ready. I’m ready to forge a new relationship with my dad. I’m ready for you to meet him. I’m ready for my mother to discover her grandson. I’m ready to go home.”

There was only one possible response to that, “Okay.”

“Okay? I lay my heart out to my son and all he says is okay?”

“Can it, Dad.” I pulled out my Surface Pro, connecting up to the hotel WiFi. “Let’s see, it says we can make it to Macon with about nine hours of hard driving.”

I looked up to see Dad nodding.

“Let’s do it.”

We packed up and checked out in record time for us that morning. A quick stop for gas and snacks saw us provisioned for a good six of those nine hours. As we got under way, Dad handed me his phone.

“I may say I’m ready, but there’s still a little bit of me that’s not sure. Call your Grandma and let her know we’ll be there this afternoon, around four.”

“Wait, they know we’re coming though, right?”

“Well, they know we’re coming sometime this summer. I emailed that I’d contact them when we got near.”

“Dad, near was Chicago. That would have given them a week or two to prepare. Near is not nine hours away, hope you have room for us.”

“Well, as a brave man once said, ‘In my defense,’ I didn’t know I’d be ready ‘till now.”

I gave him a dirty look. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Dad told me where to find her contact number on his phone. It really wasn’t hidden that well, look for McKenzie, and find the two names I don’t know, Lionel and Candace.

A pleasant voice answered when I called, “Hello, you’ve reached the McKenzie residence, how may I help you?”

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, how often do you have your first conversation with your Grandmother?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. McKenzie? This is Tim ... uh ... Tim McKenzie. My dad asked me to call you and let you know we’ll be in Macon at about four today.”

There was silence from the other end.

“Mrs. McKenzie? Are you there? Ma’am?” I waited a bit.

The voice on the other end got small, “Did you say you were Tim?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Tim? From Seattle?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You’re my grandson?”

“If you’re with the FBI, then no, I can’t say I am or that I’ve ever heard of this alleged grandson, but if you’re James McKenzie’s mother, then there’s a good chance, Ma’am. We’re still waiting on DNA results.”

Her voice strengthened and I could hear the joy in it, “Oh, yes! With that sense of humor you have to be my grandson. Wait, what time did you say you’d be here?”

“Four o’clock, Ma’am. Is that going to be a problem? We have camping gear, we could find a place to stop for the night and come on in tomorrow, or we could find a hotel if that would be better for you.”

Dad’s eyes went wide when he heard me start to offer alternatives to my never-met grandmother, and he began to shake his head vigorously. “No, now that you’ve told her, we’re committed,” came out in a rush.

“Sorry, Ma’am, we just passed a highway sign that says we’re committed to being at your house tonight. Here’s another one that says we have no choice in the matter. Forget I made any other suggestions. I’m new to the South.”

There was more silence on the phone, followed by peals of laughter. They were so loud that Dad could hear them, bringing a smile to his face.

“Tim, Tim, I love you already. You find your way here and we’ll find somewhere to put you up. Don’t worry, everything will be alright.”

“Okay, Grandma, we’ll see you later today.”

“I could get used to the sound of that. Bye, Honey, give my love to your father.” There was a click and we were disconnected.

“Uh, Grandma says to give you her love.”

Dad had an amused expression on his face. “You’re lucky you’re her one and only grandchild. You gave her a mortal insult, and all she did was laugh. You’re in the South now, boy; you’re going to have to learn the rules.”

“Dad, Dad, Dad. You forget,” I said as I polished my fingernails on my shirt, “I am good with the ladies.”

He laughed for a long time. “This is going to be interesting.”

We must have gotten lucky with road conditions, or maybe the calculations were for a few miles under the speed limit, whatever, we made it to the outskirts of Macon around three o’clock, an hour earlier than we originally expected. Dad was watching the time as we got close, and he had me call his mom again to see if we could surprise his dad out on a job site.

The same warm voice answered the phone, “McKenzie residence, how may I help you?”

“Grandma, Dad says we’re on the north end of Macon, and he wants to surprise Grandpa at his job site. Can you give us directions to where he’s working today?”

“So long as you boys promise to take the old man to the hospital when he has his heart attack.” She then proceeded to tell me to tell Dad that my grandfather was at the old Deever place putting on a new roof. “Check with him if he remembers where that is, or if he needs directions.”

I passed along the information, seeing Dad’s eyes light up and a smile cross his face, “Oh, yeah! I remember where that is. We can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Grandma, we can be there in twenty minutes Dad says. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Good luck, boys.”

Apparently Dad knew where the old Deever place was, because the first job he had ever been on with his dad was to rebuild a barn that got knocked over by the tail end of a hurricane. That’s right, hurricane. I was now in an area where they had marked ‘Hurricane Evacuation Routes’ along the highway. I guess that’s better than seeing all the Tsunami warning signs in and around the Seattle area. At least a hurricane gives you days if not weeks of time to prepare for it.

We got to the job site to spy a Chevy truck with doors that pronounced it to be the property of McKenzie General Contracting. This must be the place. There was an older version of Dad up on the bare rafters, using a pneumatic nail gun on sheathing to hammer in eight penny ring-shank nails along rafter centers, and using strapping to add a further element of security that would keep the sheathing from departing the roof in a strong wind. He was yelling down at his help, who was nowhere to be found.

“Jose, get me another sheet of plywood ready, I’m almost done with this one.”

Dad nodded at me, pointing over to the pile of sheathing that must have been deposited by the lumber truck. I headed over to pick one up.

“Jose, where’s that next sheet?”

I lofted it up on end, hoisting it above my head to hand to the old man.

“Thanks. You been eating your Wheaties, Jose? Maybe I’m not working you hard enough in the afternoons. You haven’t set one up that high for me in years.”

I waited until he had put it in place and the air compressor had quit its hammering. “Nah, no Wheaties, just good McKenzie genes.”

The old man stopped when he heard my voice. He carefully hung the nail gun where it wouldn’t slide off the roof, turning around finally to take a look at me.

“James.” He squinted a little, “No, you must be Tim.”

I’ve never seen a guy his age get off a roof that fast. He ran over to where I was, engulfing me in a huge hug. There was water in his eyes, allergies most likely!

“Tim, you look just like your dad did when he was a teenager. Wait, if you’re here, he must be too. James!”

Dad stepped out from behind the Chevy where he had been watching. Father and son reunited in as big a hug as I had just gotten. Allergy season was heavy upon us obviously.

“I’m sorry, Pop. I should have done this long ago.”

Grandpa brushed the apology aside, “I think there’s enough blame to go around. It was my fault, too.” They stood there looking at each other until Grandpa realized something. “Crud, you’re making me fall behind schedule. I’ve got to get this roof buttoned up before I go home tonight, there’s a windstorm coming.”

“How much do you have left?” Dad knew what it was like to have weather-related deadlines.

Grandpa looked at the roof and considered the remaining pile of materials. “Little over 500 square feet. I just need to get the sheathing down, I can finish the rest up at my leisure. Gonna take me another hour.”

Dad looked at me. I was already on my way to the Tahoe to grab our work boots. “How fast if you have extra help?”

“What, you two? You’re on vacation, besides, I don’t know what pansy coffee-culture instruction you’ve given to my grandson.”

I caught the last of that. “Come on, old man, try and keep up.” I looked at what he had been doing, “Eight penny ring-shank? Six inches on the interior? Four around the edges?”

He looked impressed, a smile beginning on his lips.

“You two old guys up there and me down here? Shout out lengths and I’ll get them cut for you.”

Grandpa looked at Dad. “Tool belts in the truck. I have another tape on one for you, Tim can have mine. Get up there and start calling out lengths to your boy so we can get this finished.”

The two of them climbed the roof after Grandpa showed me where the saw was. Dad started yelling out measurements, me cutting to fit and handing them up to him. He’d put them in position, making sure the edges set together in the tongue-and-groove ply, and then move on to the next placement. Grandpa called down for more nails, feeling the need to try and explain to me where they were on the truck. I guess old habits die hard, because I could have found them in my sleep. Dad set up every one of our trucks just like Grandpa’s.