When Memories Fade (14 page)

“Please stop fretting. I can handle this okay. Don't you need to be going?” Wes rubbed his hand over his head and observed as his mother gripped the car keys in her hand.

“He's just had a really bad day. I really need to work this shift tonight. I've traded as many shifts as I can. Ms. Williams had to go out of town. She's been so good about helping me watch him.” Wanda looked back into the bedroom where Pops lay resting. “As long as he is sleeping, he shouldn't be any trouble.”

“We will be fine. Like you said, he's sleeping. He usually sleeps through the night, right?”

“I know you think this should be simple, but he could wake up disoriented, and he may not know you.”

“Mom! He's sleeping. Now go. I got this.”

Wanda stared at him for a long minute and then took a deep breath. “Okay.” She kissed Wes on the cheek and went out the door.

He closed the door behind her, hoping to use the time to rest himself. Wes had been running and tracking down leads. He had finally set up a time to talk with Minister J.D. If he could find out what the minister knew about Melanie's secret record deal, surely this would make his producer, Alan, a happy man. Wes was interested in knowing what type of contacts Minister J.D. still had in the business to be able to help Melanie.

Wes sank down into his mother's chair. No wonder his mother loved this chair. He could feel the tension leaving his body as he jotted down notes for Minister J.D. Soon his eyes began to close. Seeing a losing battle coming, Wes tossed his pen and notebook on the coffee table and decided to let a catnap take over.

He was jarred awake by his ringing cell phone. Wes sat up as quickly as he could in the recliner, which seemed to be pulling his body backward. With one last lurch forward, he reached for the phone. “Hello.” He rubbed his eyes and realized it was after ten o'clock.

“Hey, Wes. This is Big Al, man. I think I see your guy.”

Wes shook his head. “What?”

“Your man, the one in the photo you showed me, with the Kangol hat. He's here, kind of creating a scene.”

“You're kidding me. What's going on? What's he doing?” Wes grew warm with excitement. Melanie Stowe's dad had surfaced.

“Well, he seems upset. Is this guy the father of that missing singer?”

“Yes, he is. Is he talking about her?” Big Al didn't answer him back. “Al? Al, are you still there?”

“Yeah, man. Hey, look, brother man just broke down. I don't think he knew she was missing. Isn't that crazy?”

Yeah, real crazy!
Wes thought he heard something in the back. He got up and walked toward the hallway but didn't see anything.

Big Al continued. “Drunk as a skunk. What do you want me to do with him?”

Wes asked, “How long do you think you can keep him? Has anyone come up to him to ask questions?”

“I don't know. He has been talking to a lot of people.”

“Hey, Al, hold on a minute. I got to check something.”

Wes looked at his watch. He walked to Pops's room and peeked inside. He could make out Pops's body in the bed. He walked into the room to listen. Pops was breathing regularly and sleeping soundly. Wanda would kill him if he did what he was thinking about doing, but he had to do this. It would take him all of fifteen minutes to drive downtown, ask questions, and come right back. He could return in an hour. Even as he thought about it, Wes felt uneasy.

“Al, try to distract him and hold him. I will be there soon.”

Wes peeked in on Pops one more time.
He's sleeping. He will be fine.
Wes drove the whole way, willing Pops to remain asleep and hoping this wasn't a wasted trip. If Melanie's dad slipped through his fingers, this could be one of the stupidest stunts he had done in a long time to get a story.

He arrived at the bar and looked around. He didn't see Big Al anywhere at first. He nodded to the bartender he'd seen the other day and walked toward the back. Wes saw Melanie's dad before seeing Big Al. He glanced around the room and slipped into the chair across from the man. He looked much thinner and grayer than in the photo, but sure enough, he was wearing a Kangol hat. The hat could've been the same one in the photo.

Larry squinted at him. “Who are you?”

“Just here to be supportive. I heard about your daughter.”

The man rubbed his head. “It's my fault. Sins of the father have come back to haunt me.”

Wes leaned in farther. “Sir, what do you mean?”

“Somebody took my girl to get at me.” Larry picked up his glass and drained the rest of the liquid. He looked at Wes. “You going to give a brother a refill? There was a big cat around here helping me out.” Larry searched around the bar.

“Probably Big Al. He should be back soon. Why would someone take your daughter to get back at you?”

Larry looked back at him; his bloodshot eyes were watery. “I've done some bad things.”

“If you think you know who has your daughter, why don't you tell the police? People have been searching all over for her.”

“No! I told you, I did some bad things.”

“Your daughter has been missing for weeks. Don't you want to save her?”

“It's too late.”

Wes looked at the man across from him. Whatever had happened to Melanie, his gut had been telling him this man had to have something to do with it or knew who did. This was out of Wes's league, though. It was time to get some backup, but he needed to be sure not to let Larry disappear again. “You look like you could use some rest. Can I take you home?”

“I don't have a place to stay. Got kicked out of the last place I stayed.”

“I can get you a room for the night. Get you a good night's sleep. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow.” Wes looked at his watch. He'd been there almost an hour, and he really needed to get back to the house. “So, what do you say I get you a place for the night?”

Larry must have been ready for a bed, because it didn't take too much convincing from Wes for him to get in the car. Wes drove to a nearby motel, paid for a room, and made sure Larry entered the room. Then he dialed Darnell's cell number.

Detective Jackson came on the phone. “Wes, this better be good, man. I just got in the bed.”

“Man, I'm so sorry, but I thought you might want to know I found Melanie Stowe's dad. He was pretty wasted, but he confessed he knew who took his daughter.”

“Are you sure?” Darnell asked.

“Yeah, he was spouting stuff like ‘sins of the father.' Look, I got him a room at the Wren Motel. His room number is two-twenty-three. Can you get someone down here pretty early? I don't want him to slip away, and I've got to get back to the house.” It was now over an hour and a half since he had left Pops alone.

“All right, man. I'll be there to pick him up.”

“Great. Keep me updated. Don't forget I helped you find him.”

Wes drove like a madman back to his mom's house. As he approached the front door, he froze. The front door was cracked open.
No!
Either the house was broken into or . . . Wes pushed the door open and called out, “Pops.” He ran into the house. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in the living room. The lamps were still on, and the television was showing an old black-and-white
Twilight Zone.
Wes rushed to Pops's bedroom. He turned the light switch on.

He's gone. Where would he go?
It was after midnight. There was no way he could explain this to his mother. Wes ran toward the kitchen and checked the side door that led into the backyard. It was locked, but he opened it and ran down the steps. “Pops!” he yelled. Wes turned and unlatched the gate in the fence, headed to the street, and sprinted down the sidewalk. “Pops!” If there was any time in his life when he wished he could turn back time and reverse a decision he'd made, it would be right now.

Melanie rocked back and forth on the bed, humming, “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear!” She hadn't thought of this song in years. It was one of her mother's favorites. Mary Stowe would sing or hum the song in the morning or at night. When her mother was alive, they went to church almost every Sunday. Her daddy went on occasion, usually on a holiday like Easter. Most of the time, it was just her and Mom.

Her mom could have sung in the choir, but she preferred to sit on the pew. Melanie could remember hearing her mother's soulful and smooth singing along with the choir.
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!
Oftentimes people would turn around and look at her mother, smiling. Her mother would smile back and keep on singing. It was the joy on her face that had always struck Melanie. She never looked that peaceful when they were home, especially when Daddy was around.

Melanie stopped rocking and looked over at the table. She'd rationed what the man had brought her to eat. It seemed it took him longer and longer to come. Was this a part of his game? Why did she have to be his game piece? She still hadn't touched the candy bar he'd left. It was tucked away. Her mind still spun with questions about how he knew.

Does it matter?
Melanie rocked again. She was almost sure she would go crazy from being cooped up in this place. Today, for the first time in a long while, she could vividly see her mother's face. Not the face that was thin from the cancer that tore at her body, but a fuller version, smiling and singing.

Melanie started to hum again. She hummed along as she heard her mother's voice and then opened her mouth. In her mind, she sang alongside her mother.
O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.

As she rocked, she prayed. “God, if you save me, I will sing for you. I will sing for you.”

Wes prayed. His mother would be home in a few hours. He had been up and down the neighborhood, driving around and around. His body was so tense with worry, Wes thought he would explode. Then he remembered where, a few weeks back, his mother had found Dad. It was worth a shot. He drove a few blocks down to the park. Surely, Pops didn't really walk this far. Wes drove by the park and at first glance saw no one there.

He parked the car and walked around. From a distance, he could see a figure sitting on a bench.
Please let that be him.
Wes walked up slowly and said, “Hello.”

Pops turned around and looked at him. “Hello. What are you doing out here, young man?”

Wes exhaled, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. “Pops, I have never been so glad to see you. We've got to get you back. Mom is going to walk in the door soon, and I already will be toast when I have to tell her I lost you.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Wes, your grandson.”

“I don't have a grandson.”

Wes nearly lost it, curling his hands into fists. This was a nightmare.
Okay, keep your cool.
Pops had wandered away because he was confused. Wes needed to be smart to figure out how he was going to get him back home. Wes decided to try a different tactic.

“Why don't I take you home?” Wes looked down, observing that his grandfather had on shoes, but he was still dressed in pajamas. “We should get you back so you don't get sick.”

“I can't. I'm waiting on my friend.”

Wes pleaded. “Well, maybe I can take you to your friend's house. We can save him the trouble, and I can give you a ride.”

“No, Nick will be here soon. He is always on time.”

“Nick?” Wes asked. “Nick Roberts?”

“Yeah, we are going to practice. Got a gig tonight. How do you know Nick?”

“No, the gig is another night. You mixed up the night.” Wes was trying to think of whatever he could to get his pops out of this park. His phone rang. Wes pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Wes, where are you? Where's Pops? I have been calling the house. Do I need to leave the hospital?”

He closed his eyes as he heard his mother's frantic voice. He should have known his mother would try to call to check on Pops. “Don't panic. Pops and I are at the park. We will be home shortly.”

“Wes! How did he get there? Did you watch him?”

“Mom, I messed up. Let's not get into that now. I will have him home soon.”

“I'm going to try to get off earlier. I knew this wasn't a good idea. You don't know how it is with him.”

Wes pleaded with his mother. “No, Mom, just finish your shift. I will have him home. Please let me do this.” He pressed the button on the phone to end the call.

I can handle this
. His broken promise to his mother dangled before him. He could only pray that both the Jesus in her and the fact that he was her son would keep her from wanting to kill him. He sat down on the bench next to Pops.

Pops said, “You sound like you have some trouble, young man.”

Before he knew it, laughter had bubbled up in Wes. His laughter bounced around the park, and then Wes fell silent as tears of gratefulness flooded his eyes. Wes looked over at his granddad. “I'm in pretty big trouble, but I believe God is helping to save me in my foolishness.”

“God is good like that, son. You should come out tonight to hear us play.”

Wes went along with the conversation. He needed his pops to trust him enough to get him out of this park. “I would love to hear you play.” Pops had stopped playing with Southern Soul before Wes was born. Wes asked, “So is there something special about tonight?”

Pops looked at him. “Yes, it will be the last time I play with the band.”

“Why would you stop playing? Don't you love the band?”

“I do. Love playing with the fellows. Things have changed. I have a family that needs me. Plus, it's time to move on. When Nick comes, I'm going to tell him.”

Wes realized that Pops had reached way back into his memory bank. Why was Pops focusing on this particular memory? Wes would have to ask his mother, if she would even talk to him, why Pops continued to return to the park.

He said to his grandfather, “Let me get this straight. Tonight is your last night playing with the band, but you haven't told your friend Nick yet. Won't he be upset with you springing this on him?”

“Nick? No, he won't be upset. We talked about it before. I told him I was thinking about it. I warned him that things were changing too fast.”

Wes was totally confused by the conversation. “What was changing? The music?”

Pops stared off into space.

Wes tried to prompt him. “Pops, what was changing?” He touched his grandfather's shoulder. “Why don't you let me drive you? Nick wants me to take you to him.”

Pops nodded. Wes stood and took his grandfather by the hand. The conversation had stopped. He didn't know where Pops was now, but he was able to get him inside the car. Ten minutes later, he drove into the driveway to find his mother's car was there.

Wes guided Pops into the house. Wanda jumped up from the couch. “I was ready to call the police if you hadn't gotten back here.”

“I'm sorry. I will get him back in the bed.”

“No, you've done enough.”

“Mom.”

“Go home, Wes. I can handle it from here.”

Wes watched his mother take Pops back to his bedroom. He did the only thing he could do. He left, feeling the weight of his choice on his shoulders.