 |
Saying Goodbye
by Angelshell |
Chapter One
He was sitting at a table in a very crowded mall trying to find some peace alone with his
coffee. It didn't look like he was going to get any.
Suddenly, over the loud buzz of the people around him, he heard someone laugh. Immediately
his head shot up and he looked around the expansive area, trying to locate where this
spine tingling laugh had come from. He knew that laugh. But it couldn't possibly
be…no, it was impossible…wasn't it?
It had been 16 years since he'd left her that dark and lonely night. One hundred ninety
two months since he had smelled her sweet innocent fragrance. 768 weeks since he had
looked into her sparkling eyes and known he was home again. 5840 days since he had felt
whole. Could he possibly remember her laugh? The answer of course was yes. The real
question was would he ever forget it? He knew he would never find her in this crowd. But
now his mind was racing. He couldn't let her go again. He came into town less than 48
hours ago with the sole purpose of finding his daughter. Only he'd been stopped short when
he had no idea how to find her. He'd left her in that dark room, a note on the down stairs
fridge. The note had said simply 'find a home for my daughter'. He had known their house
cleaner came every Saturday morning - that's way he had to leave that night. Without
looking back. Would she remember him now? Would she know those who raised her weren't her
real parents? So many questions, all leading to one answer. He had to find her, and he had
to find her now.
Chapter Two
Lisa floated through the door after a fantastic day. She walked into the kitchen grabbed
an apple and hopped up onto the bench.
"What 'cha doin'?" she asked her brother Aaron quizzically as she watched him
take what looked like it could have been a pop tart out of the toaster.
"I'm trying to cook," he said dropping a scorched oblong object into the sink.
"Do the world a favor babe and have an apple," she held out hers to him but he
just pushed it away.
Aaron was 10 months older than she and because of this they were both best friends and the
worst of enemies.
"Would you like me to show you how it's done?" she asked.
"No," he said sticking his nose up in the air and grabbing another pop tart out
of the packet.
"Suit yourself," she said swinging her legs, "just don't look to me for
help when you try explaining how you burnt down the kitchen."
"Don't you have any thing else to do?" he asked in his usual
'get-out-of-my-hair' tone.
"Nope."
Aaron's dark hair was a brilliant contrast to her blonde ringlets. His friendly blue eyes
were an even bigger contrast to her intense green ones. Many commented on how the two of
them couldn't have even passed as cousins, let alone brother and sister. But though they
may not have shared anything physically in common, mentally and emotionally, they were
almost the same person.
"When is mom going to be home?" Lisa asked taking another big bite of her apple.
"Dunno," Aaron said concentrating way too hard considering he was only trying to
toast a pop tart.
Suddenly the phone rang and Aaron answered it. Within a few minutes he was sitting in
front of the television watching MTV and talking to his best friend Matt. Lisa stayed
where she was on the bench, eating her apple and sorting through today's mail.
"Junk, junk, junk, ooh Victoria Secret junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, junk, Aaron,
Aaron, mom, mom, junk, mom," with a sigh she put the mail down and aimed her apple at
the waste bin. "She shoots," Lisa threw the core at the bin, "she
scores!" Suddenly an all-too-familiar smell rose to meet her nose. She smiled to her
self and called sweetly to her brother. "Aaron darling, your pop tart's
roasting."
She heard him swear down and run into the kitchen to take it out before it caught fire. He
threw the phone into her lap on the way past and grabbed the toaster, shaking it upside
down over the sink.
Lisa raised the phone to her ear and giggled softly as the not so sweet crooning of Matt
greeting her down the telephone.
"Aaron…why does Matt sing to you?" she asked not covering the end of the
phone. The singing suddenly stopped and Matt quietly asked who was on the phone. She just
laughed and handed it back to her brother. "Well, the kitchen was gonna catch fire, I
kinda needed two hands…" her brother said walking back out into the living room
giving up his feeble attempts of cooking.
Lisa hopped down off the bench when the doorbell rang and went to answer it turning the
television down on her way passed. Her brother yelled something at her but she wasn't
listening. Standing out side her front door was a man in his early forties.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.
"Is this the house of Andrea Martin?" he asked.
"Yes it is," Lisa replied, "but she's not home right now."
"Oh, well, I'm an old friend of hers, I was just passing through town and I wanted to
meet up with her, do you know when she'll be back?"
"No, she works late on a Friday and then she usually goes out to dinner with some of
her work mates, but if you like you can leave your number and I'll get her to call you
when she gets in."
The man smiled and nodded. "That'd be great."
Lisa held up one finger and ducked just back inside the door to get a pen and some paper.
She returned moments later. "Okay," she said.
"Well, I'm staying at the Grand Plaza on Oak Street."
She started to write, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did. Suddenly he could see a
tiny mark on her left ear lobe. A birthmark.
"Lisa?" he asked his voice shaking slightly. She raised her head and smiled.
"You're Lisa?"
"Yeah, Andrea's daughter."
He looked closely at her face and wondered how he could have missed it before.
"You look very much like your mother."
Lisa smiled again. "Really, because every one says I look more like my father. My
brother Aaron looks like my mother…did you know my father?"
"Um…no, not really, I was more a friend of your mom's…my name's Peter
McIver, I'm in suite 35, can you tell your mom to give me a call when she gets in, I don't
care how late."
Lisa nodded and outstretched her arm, offering him her hand. "It's nice to meet
you," she said.
He took it, shocked at how mature she was, and shook it weakly. "It's nice to meet
you, too, Lisa." |
|
