Happenstance Ch. 01

While trying not to discourage her, I explained about the news media's changing landscape and encouraged her to broaden her subject spread to include television in her thinking.

"Technology has already had a huge impact on the newspaper industry," I said. "And I can see a time - and I don't think it will be very far down the road - when people will get their daily news fixes via the Internet rather than the print media. Television news reporters and presenters will soon be in higher demand than print media reporters.

"Being one of the few people in my organisation who can still take notes in shorthand, I'm already considered a dinosaur, which is why I've tended to focus my efforts on investigative stories. Even if the paper I currently work for gives me the boot in their next round of redundancies, I can still continue to ply my trade as a freelancer or a stringer.

"You, though, have an opportunity to get into the next generation of reporting. So, look to the future when planning your subjects when you enrol at uni. The choices you make now will affect your career opportunities when it comes time for you to start earning a living.

"I know that if I were younger, I'd be looking for an opening in television. But it's too late for me. Besides, I'm too big for that medium. At six-foot-two and built like a rugby scrum prop, I'd intimidate the people I was interviewing. Not to mention the fact that I have a face that is better suited to the non-visual media. Unless it's a sports network, where badly set broken noses add to an interviewer's appeal, television producers want to see pretty boys and girls up on their screens."

Shelley laughed at my self-depreciation before responding to my comments.

"Don't put yourself down, Daddy," she said. "You're the cutest man I've ever known. Hard and handsome on the outside and soft and cuddly on the inside. And I don't know why you think your nose makes you ugly. It adds character to your face. I know all my girlfriends at school were in love with you."

"Cute, heh? That's exactly how every man wants to be described by a beautiful young woman... not! And your girlfriends were eleven and twelve at the time and were driven by their first hormonal flushes. They would have thought a well-built goal post was cute."

We were still laughing when, with the dinner over and the dishes washed, dried and put away, we adjourned to the living room. After resuming our seats on the settee, Shelley snuggled into my chest. As we settled into a peaceful after-dinner reverie, the six years of separation seemed to disappear. After only a few short hours together, we had resumed the close relationship we'd had so long ago.

"Can I ask you something, Daddy?" she enquired, breaking our comfortable silence.

"Anything, My Darling," I answered.

"Are you one of those people who is a mild-mannered reporter by day and a superhero or something by night?"

"Why would you ask that?" I queried, lifting her off me so I could look at her. She had been away for so long that I had forgotten about her quirky sense of humour. This was the sort of question she'd ask me when she was little.

"It's just that I noticed all the gift-wrapped parcels in my room, and it made me think that you might secretly be Santa, and you were using my room to store all the presents you planned to deliver on Christmas Eve."

"You're partly right," I answered with a chuckle. "I am a mild-mannered reporter. But contrary to your vivid imagination - which doesn't seem to have changed since you've been away - I'm no superhero. I do play at being Santa from time to time, however. I also play at being a father.

"Those presents are the Christmas gifts and birthday presents I bought for you over the years in the hope that I would be able to give them to you when I found you. They start with the Christmas presents I bought for you the year you disappeared and end with the gifts I bought you for this Christmas.

"Their selection became harder as you became older, so I had to ask my friends what they were buying for their fifteen, sixteen and seventeen-year-old daughters. Sadly, the presents became more generic the older you became because I had no idea how your personality was developing.

"You're welcome to open them if you'd like to. I suppose some of them will seem childish now you're eighteen, but I felt they were appropriate at the time. The only one I'd like you to leave unopened is the gift marked Christmas 1998. I'd really like to give that to you personally; that's if you plan on staying until Christmas, of course."

"I'd love to stay until Christmas," Shelley said through the tears that were cascading down her face. "I'll stay for as long as you want me to. Since I've deferred my uni entry, I'm a free agent. I'll just have to let Mum and Dad know that I'm planning on staying a bit longer than I'd originally anticipated. They don't need to know why. They'll be happy just to know I'm alive and safe."

"I disagree," I responded. "Certainly, they need to know that you're alive and safe. But they also need to know why you are staying over here longer than you'd planned. There's already been too much lying and deception in our lives. I don't want it to continue.

"When your mother left me for the man you now refer to as Dad and stole you away from me, I wanted to find them so I could exact revenge on the pair of them for the hurt they had caused me. I was prepared to dig the two graves that Confucius spoke of - one for them and the other for me - because they had taken away the one thing I cared most about in life.

"I'm not saying I could have, but I might have been more accepting of the situation had your mother come to me and told me that she'd fallen in love with someone else and wanted to leave me for him. It still would have hurt to lose you both, but at least I would have known what was happening.

"As it was, she was cheating on me with him, and rather than face me, they waited until my back was turned before vanishing like thieves into the night, taking my most precious possession with them.

"I suppose I should have been thankful that she didn't strip our joint and savings accounts. I took that to mean she still had a modicum of decency left in her. But that thought was dashed when I learned she had been short-changing us for quite some time.

"While investigating your disappearance, I discovered that your mother had been depositing her sales commissions - which added up to a substantial amount - into a separate bank account. She cleaned that out a couple of days before loading you and whatever else they could squeeze into their getaway wagon and performing their disappearing act.

"That discovery told me that her disappearance was no spur-of-the-moment decision. She had obviously been planning it for some time. Jim Davis' appearance on the scene probably brought her timetable forward by a few years. My guess is that had he not turned up when he did, she would have waited until you were old enough to fend for yourself before taking off.

"So, while I don't want to tell you what you should do, I want you to do it without subterfuge. I can only have you back in my life if our relationship is based on truth and honesty. I know that's probably going to be hard for you, living the lie that has been the basis of your life, but it's the only way we can hope to get back to what we once had.

"Don't be like them. Be the open and honest person you once were. Tell your mother the truth and let her deal with it. Let her know that you and I have reconnected and that you will be staying with me while you're over here. She might not like it, but she'll learn to live with it... or maybe she won't. But that's her problem. Not yours. At least she'll know you're in safe hands, and you're with someone who cares for you at least as much as she does."

"Oh, Daddy," Shelley said, once again through a curtain of tears. "I've missed you so much. There have been so many times I wished I could talk to you and ask your advice. You're right. Mum and Dad are so caught up in the lie they live that they can't seem to be open about anything. I don't think they are being dishonest so much as guarded.

"I can't tell you what I know about the reasons behind that - I've sworn not to talk about it - but what I can say is that the lie they are living is the reason why I haven't picked up a phone to call you when I really needed to. All I could do was ask myself what you would have said had I been able to talk to you. Sometimes I got it wrong; mostly because I ignored what I knew would have been your advice. But most times, I listened, and my problem worked itself out.

"When I look back on it, the big difference between your advice and that which Dad gave me was perspective. While you had always helped me work things out for myself, Dad was pragmatic. You would give me the principles upon which to base my decisions. You helped me to see that we live in a world that is made up of shades of grey. Dad, on the other hand, sees everything in black or white. Not necessarily right or wrong, because he believes we can do wrong things for the right reasons, but good and bad.

"A prime example of that is that I don't believe he sees anything wrong - or bad - in stealing Mum away from you because he believed it was the right thing to do; the good thing, in his mind."

"And why would he think that?" I asked.

"Because he's my biological father," Shelley answered. "And he felt he was doing the right thing by Mum and me. You didn't come into the equation because, in his eyes, you were merely a bookmark - a stand-in, if you like."

The news that Davis was Shelley's biological father hit me with such force that I was momentarily stunned. Despite wanting to ask her to clarify her comment, I couldn't utter a word.

"The sad part about it was that Mum felt the same way," she continued, obviously missing the perplexed look on my face. "He had been her first love, and she never got over his abandonment of her when she fell pregnant. That's why she would never marry you. She was always waiting for him to return. Even after she met you and we started living with you, she never gave up the hope that he would someday come back to claim her.

"That might never have happened if it wasn't for happenstance. He came to work at the real estate agency Mum was working for. He had a different name by then, and he had changed physically. He was much bigger than he'd been as a seventeen-year-old, and six years in the army had matured him. With his facial features hidden behind a neatly-trimmed beard, she hadn't recognised him. But he had recognised her as soon as he set eyes on her.

"He saw this as his chance to make up for his past mistake and set to work to make it happen. Within a few weeks of him starting his charm offensive, they were sharing lunches and after-work drinks together. She was cheating on you - if only emotionally at that point - with the new salesman.

"Apparently, at one of those meetings, he told her who he really was, which triggered the progression of their emotional affair to a physical one. You went away on an assignment around that time, which, I believe, is when they slept together for the first time."

What Shelley was telling me explained the changes that had occurred in Charlie and my relationship during the five months or so leading up to her disappearance. The later than usual working hours were explained away with either stories of client meetings - possible, but unlikely. Or after-hours drinks with her co-workers - true, but co-worker rather than co-workers. The extended viewing times on weekends - possible, once again. And the reduction in our sex life due to her being physically and mentally exhausted - reasonable, but unlikely; certainly not over such a long period. I couldn't believe I'd been so naïve and trusting.

When I asked Shelley how she knew about the things she was telling me, she explained that she had learned from the master.

"You taught me that when working on a project, I should store away every little snippet of information I collected for future reference," she said. "One day, you told me, all the pieces of the puzzle would fall into place, and I'd have the full story. Well, that's exactly what I did.

"Some of it, they told me - the bit about Dad being my biological father, for example - but the rest of it I put together myself. Each piece I picked up would be examined for fit - measured against what I already knew if you like - and either locked into place or set aside until I found a matching piece.

"You wouldn't believe how often your name comes up during their arguments," she continued. "Mum uses you as a weapon to beat Dad with when he doesn't measure up in one way or another. In her eyes, you are the gold standard of responsible fatherhood and husbandly behaviour. Strange, huh?

"Unfortunately, I can't say the same for Dad. He sees you in an entirely different light. I won't go into detail but suffice it to say that none of his comments are complimentary.

"From an information-gathering perspective, though, their arguments are enlightening. It's amazing just how much one can learn when listening to two people who have had a few glasses of wine - or Scotch, in Dad's case - start letting honesty and truth intrude on a life built on deceit and lies.

"I don't think Dad would miss me all that much if I didn't go back. He believes that the years I spent with you have corrupted me. He's a bit controlling and doesn't like that I don't unquestionably accept his authority like Mum does. Although he has never hit me, he has come close a few times. I think the only thing holding him back is that he knows I'd be knocking on the doors of the nearest police station if he ever did.

"Mum would probably miss me, but she's got my young brother and sister to take care of. I know she's only waiting for them to reach school age so she can return to work. She hates being a stay-at-home mum."

I thought about what Shelley had said before speaking. I got the impression that Charlie's new life might not be all she had dreamed it would be when she threw me over for her old boyfriend.

"It sounds like, after giving away my desire to exact revenge on your mother and Davis when I'd failed to find them, my decision to take the advice of George Herbert, the sixteenth-century poet, that 'living well is the best revenge' has paid off," I said. "It appears that Karma might be doing for your mother and father everything I would have wished for them.

"You mentioned a brother and sister. Tell me about them."

"Thomas - or Tom, as he is known - was born in March of 1994, making him four years old. He's a sweet little boy and will be starting kindergarten next year. There's no mistaking who his father is - with his dark brown hair and brown eyes - but he has Mum's personality. He's as smart as they come and is going to grow up to be a real chick magnet.

"Geraldine... yes, I know. Tom and Gerrie, right? What were they thinking? Apparently, they were named after his father and paternal grandmother. Mum's family only got second billing. Thomas received Mum's father's name, John, as his second name, and Gerrie's second name is Charlene. I have no idea of the psychology of the whole thing, but I suspect it might have had something to do with Mum naming his first child - me - after her maternal grandmother, Michelle, and her mother, Irene, completely ignoring his side of the family.

"Anyway, Geraldine was born in November of the following year, which makes her three years old. Being born so late in the year puts her at a disadvantage so far as her schooling is concerned, however, because it means she'll be at home for another two years before she starts school. I think Mum plans on putting her into pre-school when she turns four so she can get back into the workforce. I think she'll be happy even if it's only part-time. She desperately needs to feel like she's more than a haus frau.

"Dad's not happy about it, but I don't think he will have much say in the matter. Despite his controlling nature, he's learned that Mum can be a force to reckon with. She's become an entirely different person to the one she was when you and she were together. I think she's come to realise what she threw away when she left you for him."

"Well, that's a bed she made for herself," I commented. "Living under an assumed name with a husband who's in witness protection and two young children hanging off her apron strings, there's no turning back."

"What makes you think he's in witness protection?" Shelley asked, a look of concern - even fear - replacing the smile she'd previously displayed. "I hope I've not said anything to lead you to that conclusion."

"No, Sweetheart. You've not said anything to let the cat out of the bag. But I've thought it had to be something like that all along. It was just too easy for the three of you to disappear in such a short time. I saw only two alternatives. Either your biological father had very influential criminal connections, or he was in a witness protection program.

"Had it been the former, I'd have thought - with my knowledge of the criminal organisations currently operating in the country - that his disappearance - or, perhaps, all of your disappearances - would have been more permanent. They don't like having people with information that might do them harm wandering the streets, where they might be picked up by the police and used against them. That was my greatest fear.

"You'll never know the relief I felt when you appeared on my doorstep tonight. But your turning up, and a few of the things you've said since, gave me the last pieces of the jigsaw puzzle you mentioned earlier that allowed me to complete the puzzle I've been working on for the past six years.

"So, no. You didn't tell me that your father - and, by extension, your mother and you, and your brother and sister - was in witness protection. But some of the things you've told me confirmed my suspicions that that was the case.

"You needn't worry about me knowing about it, though. I have no intention of going public with that knowledge. I consider myself to be an ethical journalist. I have no idea what he's done to deserve the level of protection he's receiving, but it seems to me that if he has helped to put someone behind bars who deserves to be there - and it must be someone who has the power to do him harm - I'm not going to out him."

What I didn't say, however, was that I would put my investigative skills to work to find out who it was he had testified against. Before learning that, however, I needed to find out who the man now known as Jim Oliver had been before becoming the Jim Davis who had stolen my wife and child.

I hadn't become a successful investigative journalist because I was sloppy. I didn't like loose ends, and my inquisitive nature dictated that I needed to have the whole picture before closing the book on a story I was working on, regardless of whether it was for publication or, in this case, for my own peace of mind.

---oooBJSooo---

Despite not getting to bed until well after midnight, I was up and about at my usual five-thirty the following morning. Also as usual, I had donned a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a polo shirt before heading out for my morning run. The note I'd left for Shelley was still sitting on the kitchen bench when I returned almost an hour later, so, after showering and shaving and performing my other morning rituals, I returned to the kitchen, where I made my first coffee of the day before disappearing into my office.

I had checked my emails and had posted an opinion piece on my website when Shelley surfaced, two hours after my day had begun. I had also emailed my editor to let him know I would be working from home for the last two days of the week. With the two Christmas public holidays falling on the Monday and Tuesday of the following week, I would have six days to spend with her before returning to work.