Quinn and Kimberly Harris

"Yes, dear. You should go. Call if you need anything. I'll call you a cab. I don't think it would be good having us drop you. I mean if your dad even so much as sees our car . . ." said her mother.

"Yes, I understand," said Sam.

******

She saw the sign, and thought it had to be a mistake. "SOLD" it announced. It was a realty sign.

She asked the cabbie to wait. She had her old key. She went up the walkway, keyed the door, and entered.

Nothing! Nothing was left. He was gone. Her dad was gone. Not even a scrap of paper remained. Going back outside she noted the phone number of the realtor on the sign, and had the cabbie return her home.

******

"Mom, he's gone. I called this number myself, the realtor's. The guy said the only contact number he had was to a lawyer's office: Abraham Maxwell is the guy's name. Can you call him, mom?" said Sam.

"Okay, okay. Give me a minute. I need to think," she said. The girl in front of her was still standing and clearly upset.

Kimberly Harris headed into the library of the semi-mansion to make the call on the land line. She shut the door denying her daughter entry until the call was made and done with.

"Mom!" she heard her daughter plaintive voice, but she needed to do this one alone. She was fully aware, was Kimberly Harris, of just who Abraham Maxwell really was; and she was also well aware that any information she would get from him would be to Quinn Harris' benefit not hers or Henry Harris'.

Sam paced outside the door waiting for her mother to come out. She had to wait but less than five minutes.

She could tell by the look on her mother's face that the news was not good.

"He says that your dad does not want to be found, Sam. We have to wait for him to contact us, I'm afraid," she said. Sam fell into the chair nearest the door to the library and made fists so tight that the blood supply to them had to have been cut off.

"It's my fault. I didn't go last month, when I was supposed to; and I didn't even call to cancel, and now he's hurt and gone!" said Sam.

"Sam, he'll call. He'll contact us. I know your father; he won't be out there alone for too long. He needs you as much as you need him," said Kimberly.

******

"Well, the weather's nice," said Kimberly.

"Yes, well, let's hope the festivities turn out to be just as nice," said Henry. "Since we haven't heard from him, we're going to have to play it by ear. Cross your fingers."

Little knots of friends and relatives began arriving. Kids headed for the park's play apparatus while the grownups started setting up the picnic tables and getting the barbecues - three of them - going.

"Hello Henry," said aunt Millie. "Kimberly how are you?"

"Hello to you too, aunt Millie," said Henry

"Hi, aunt Millie," echoed Kimberly.

"Where's Quinn," said aunt Millie.

"Not here yet," said Kimberly. Aunt Millie shrugged.

"Well, tell him when he gets here that he's slated to say grace for the dinner. Okay," said aunt Millie.

"Sure bet," said Henry, with a confidence that he did not feel. They watched as their aunt moseyed off to greet other members of the clan.

"What if he doesn't show? And as for that, I doubt that he will?" said Kimberly.

"In that case, we take aunt Millie aside and tell her the story, the truth. It's all we can do. But, until we're sure there is no reason to upset the apple cart," he said. She nodded.

"Okay, I guess you've got a point," she said.

******

"It's no use, Kim. He's not coming. We've got to tell aunt Millie and then make our excuses and get out of here," said Henry, she nodded. They headed for where aunt Millie was holding court. They pulled her aside.

The look on the face of the Harris matriarch was soon one of increasing sadness and shock as the story unfolded.

"And that's the long and the short of it, aunt Millie," said Henry.

The older woman looked at the younger. "You cheated on that good man with his own brother!" said aunt Millie, looking directly at the other woman. And you expected him to cover your collective asses with the family."

"We are so sorry aunt Millie. We just couldn't help ourselves," said Kimberly.

"Well, that's just wonderful. You are going to hurt a lot of people with this selfishness of yours. And, I tell you now. You too will never be happy, not really. You think you will. You think that this 'love' of yours will carry you through, but I can tell you that it will not. You will eventually split up or worse. The pressure is going to be just too great. Believe me.

"I'll say your goodbyes for you. I have to think of how I am going to break this to the family. At best it is not going to be pretty, not even," she said.

"Aunt Millie . . ." started Kimberly.

"Just go, Kimberly, the both of you. It's hard for me to even look at you," she said. "Tonight, you two should try and imagine where Quinn is and what's going through his mind and searing his very soul."

"But . . ." started Kimberly.

"Go, just go," she said, turning her back on the two of them.

Their aunt watched as the two of them retreated to the parking lot. Millie Harris gritted her teeth. This was not good. She headed for a little knot of family elders getting it on in the horseshoe pit. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

******

"Well, that went badly," said Henry. She nodded.

"It was to be expected. If it had been anybody but Quinn . . ." she said.

"Yeah, anybody else," he said. "He was always her favorite. But, aunt Millie was wrong about us. I will never give up on you. I need you and love you. And, Kim, I mean forever."

"Yes, and that goes for me too. You're mine, no matter what or - who," she said.

******

Sloan Mackenzie looked tired and wired and wound up. Well so what, the Lamplighter was a place to unwind wasn't it? Teaching school was definitely not all summer vacations and intellectual repartee with one's colleagues, not by a long shot.

She'd seen him before, on parents' night. He was Samantha's father, Quinn Harris. He did not look too good, but not tired so much as - depressed. She headed over to the man at the bar.

"Hi," she said. I turned to see who the interrupter of my thought processes was.

"Uh - hello?" I said. She looked familiar, but I couldn't actually place her, not in my present state of alcoholic euphoria at any rate. "Do I know you?" She smirked.

"Hmm, in a way. Samantha was my student in pre-AP English last year," she said. "You're mister Harris if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, yes, sure," I said. "Nice to see you." I was being properly polite, but probably not thrillingly so. She smiled. She was a pretty wench, I thought, as I tried to organize my thoughts.

"So, you come here much?" she said. I shrugged

"Yeah, I guess you'd call me a regular," I said. "You?"

"A couple of times a month, I guess. To unwind, you know," she said. "Your wife with you?" she looked around as if scanning the crowd for her. I snorted. She picked up on it.

"Not a good subject?" she said. I shrugged again.

"It is what it is," I said. "We broke up."

"Wowzer," she said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." I resorted yet again to my favorite means of expressing myself - I shrugged.

"It is what it is," I said. I took another sip of my JD.

"Breakups are tough," she said. "Been there didn't like it."

"No, me neither," I said.

We talked a little more but eventually she made her apologies and wandered off. I smiled her a goodbye.

Almost as soon as she'd turned to go, my bud, Roscoe Lamm, came up to me and asked if I could use a refill. I nodded in the affirmative.

"Yeah, another one," I said. "Say Roscoe, you know anyone who's hiring? I'm looking to change jobs."

"You serious?" he said. He knew I was a fixture at Carter's Auto. He seemed genuinely surprised that I'd want to be changing work places.

"Yeah, serious is the word," I said.

"Well, actually, I might," he said. "I know this family. They're looking for a mechanic who'd also double as a chauffeur. The pay would be good and whoever it is that accepts the job could live there free." He knew I was divorcing.

"Yeah? Who? Where? Where do I apply?" I said.

"Actually, right here. The lady is a regular. She asked me to vet possible candidates. You just got vetted. You got the job if you want it," he said. He pulled out his ballpoint and wrote something on the pad he had behind the bar.

"Here, call this lady at that number," he said, passing me the little four by five sheet of paper.

"Okay, I will," I said. And I did. And then I was employed and unreachable by the trio responsible for my change of employment venues; well, that's the way I saw things.

The lady's name was Anita Childress. handsome, middle aged, divorced, two kids living with her.

In order to assure myself of being unreachable by the dirty quarter dozen, I'd had to explain to mister Carter why I couldn't give notice. He didn't much like it, but he understood and wished me well.

And just like that, I was born again in a family sense.

******

She was shaking her head. "He really has disappeared. Sam is going nuts. Hell, I'm going nuts! What is that ex of mine thinking!" said Kimberly.

"I don't know. He's mixed up, confused, I guess," said Henry. "It was the same when we were kids even in grade school. In high school somebody would insult him because he was so skinny, he was five-eight and one-twenty in his freshman year, and he would hang his head nobody knew where. He's doing it again. As good a man as he is, and he is a good man, he really never grew up in the true sense of the word." She nodded.

"Yes, I guess that's true. But, all of that said and all of it true, I do wish I could have at least minimized the hurt I put on him," she said.

"The hurt 'we' put on him. It was me as much and maybe more than you," he said.

"The more I think about it the more I think you were right. I should have given in to him on the custody issue. That would have mitigated the pain he must have suffered to at least some extent. Kinda let him have some of his back. Now, he sees everything he had before, even Sammy, as lost to him. Oh my, how he must be hurting right now," she said. He nodded his head in slow, sad agreement with her words

"You talked to Sam today?" he said.

"Yes, she distraught. I think she spends her nights alternating between developing outlandish plans to find him and wallowing in despair. I just don't know what to do.

"You know, we have to find him and give him what he wants. I mean if we wait too long he's liable to try and get revenge and find out the unfindoutable. You know what I mean," he said.

"I know exactly what you mean. He'd go nuts, not a question in my mind about that," she said. He nodded.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Does Sam get home at the same time today?"

"Yes, her new schedule at school is the same as last year. She's even got that same English teacher again, Sloan Mackenzie, the Advanced Placement teacher," she said.

"Good, I liked her. I think she's Sam's favorite teacher too," said Henry.

******

"How you doing, Sam," said the teacher.

"Okay, I guess, miss Sloan," said Sam. Sloan Mackenzie could see that her student, who was the first to arrive almost every day, was not really okay, but all she could do was acknowledge her response with a nod.

"Miss Sloan?" said Sam.

"Yes, Samantha," said her teacher.

"Can I ask you something?" said Sam.

"Of course," said Sloan.

"My mom and dad broke up; she, my mom, has a new man. How's a kid supposed to act after something like that?" said Sam.

Sloan leaned back in her desk's chair. She knew from her conversation with the man, her dad, that there had indeed been a breakup, but she had not let on to anybody that she knew. Now, she was discussing the issue with one of the principals.

"You're with your mom and her new man?" said Sloan

"Yes, ma'am," said Sam. The older woman became thoughtful.

"Are you getting along okay with them, I mean your mom and this new guy?" said Sloan.

"Yes, I mean I guess so. He's not really new though. And yes mom and uncle Henry are good to me. But, I miss my dad. Since the divorce things are not the same."

"You call your new step dad uncle then?" said Sloan. "That kinda tells . . ."

"No, he is my uncle. Well used to be. Now he's my step-dad I guess," said Samantha Harris. Her teacher looked her askance.

"You mean you used to call him uncle, right?" said miss Sloan.

"No, no he's my real uncle my dad's brother," said Sam.

Suddenly things took on a whole new slant per Sloan Mackenzie's understanding of what her number one student was going through. Not only had her mother divorced her dad, but she was essentially living in an incestuous relationship with her ex brother-in-law.

"My oh my," said Sloan. "You say you're not seeing your dad much?"

"No, he left and nobody knows where he is," said Sam.

"Really," said Sloan. She had seen Quinn Harris a few times, most recently two weeks past. The man was apparently a regular at the Lamplighter, but the family, his family and ex, was apparently not aware of it.

Now Sloan Mackenzie had a problem: to tell or not to tell. And, as well, now she had a whole new appreciation of the Man's, Quinn's, depressive state. She knew better than to involve herself with someone whose baggage was as multitudeness as was this girl's dad's. Still . . . She would be unwinding at the Lamplighter that very night. She decided, she wanted to talk to the man some more if not substantially, but would he even be there?

******

She spied him in close confab with Roscoe, everybody's best friend; well, everybody who frequented the Lamplighter B&G.

"Hi guys," said Sloan.

I turned to look at her. She looked - something - purposeful. "Hi Sloan," I said.

"Yeah, hi Sloan," said Roscoe.

"Did I interrupt anything?" she said.

I'd gotten to know Sloan Mackenzie over the past little while, was maybe the right way to say it. She wasn't a close friend or anything, but well, I trusted her. And no, I didn't know why it would even matter that I did.

"No, no," I said. "Just planning a fishing trip," I said.

"Yea, right," she said, and laughed.

"No, we were just shooting the shit," said Roscoe. "What can I getcha, Sloan?"

"Just a draft," said Sloan. Roscoe headed off to the taps some dozen feet down the bar.

"I talked to your daughter today," said Sloan, looking serious. "She volunteered pretty much everything, Quinn. I had no idea. I mean . . ."

I stared at her. "Really? My daughter? Whatever, Sloan, it is what it is," I said, finally thinking of something to say that didn't sound whiny or wimpish. I did not want to talk to her or anyone else about my daughter. I was hoping she would drop the topic. I hoped in vain.

"I can just imagine the problems that a relationship like theirs must have caused," said Sloan, just as Roscoe returned with her beer.

"Beyond my control," I said.

"Evidently. Quinn - can I ask you something? Something personal?" she said. I didn't like where this was heading, but I shrugged my okay anyway.

"Your daughter, she doesn't know how to contact you?" said Sloan, taking an only slightly disingenuous path in the conversation.

"No, I don't think so. It was her choice," I said. Okay, so I was rearranging the facts a little; it was how I felt.

"I didn't get the feeling that she chose not to be able to get in touch with you," Sloan said. "In fact, she's kinda down because she can't find you." Suddenly, I was nervous.

"You didn't tell her that I come here, did you?" I said.

"No, no. I didn't know your feelings on the matter, so I kept my yap shut - for the moment," she said. "I mean if it's a secret . . ."

"It is," I said. "Samantha chose to live with them and not with me. And add to that the judge went along with it. Gave my ex and my so called brother total custody too. So, I opted myself out of their lives."

"Wow!" she said. "I can see why you feel stung by it all."

"You don't approve?" I said. "I mean of my opting out of their lives."

"Not my place to approve or not approve," she said. "But, for what it's worth, you might want to give your daughter another chance. I know for a fact that she misses you." I snickered.

"Feels guilty maybe, but miss me; not in any real sense of the word," I said.

"Okay, I'll butt out, and I will keep your secret. But, like I said, you might want to be thinking about giving that kid another chance."

"Yeah sure," I said, effectively ending the conversation.

******

Working at the Childress residence was easy-peasy as my Samantha used to say when she was a deal younger. The Childresses had three vehicles two Chevy sedans and a Caddy. Needless to say they were all in tip top condition. The Caddy was Miss Anita's, the mom's. The two impalas belonged to her two daughters Crystal age nineteen and Hermione age seventeen. The good news was that the pay was good. I did have to move out of my apartment and into the servants' quarters because I was on call to drive mom wheresoever, but that was not proving to be much of a problem. Plus, I did enjoy the lady's company - and no, not in any kind of lover on the side kind of thing. Our relationship was strictly platonic, employer-employee, whatever.

The girls uniformly drove themselves though I had been asked a couple of times by mom to shadow Hermione's dates. Seems she kinda gravitated toward boys of questionable integrity. After several such forays, I was able to report to mom that the boys while less than perfect, I suppose, were not anything to worry much about. Mom seemed to relax after that.

"What was the boy's name again, Quinn?" said Anita.

"Christopher Sand," I said. "Seventeen, into punk rock, dad's an engineer: And, so far he's kept his hands to himself."

I had Sundays off, and only worked nights if arranged for in advance. This latter reality allowed me to maintain my membership in the Lamplighter's barfly association. I needed that. What my ex had done to me still hurt like hell: I needed the camaraderie of other losers like myself.

I began to have a more or less regular association with Sloan Mackenzie though it never went anywhere close to being an intimate relationship. She just listened and opined when her input seemed required. She had, I was sure, kept her word to keep my nightly hangout on the QT as regarded my ex family.

******

Did I wonder what was going on in the other Harris household, if they ever thought about me, or cared a whit either way. Of course I did. I figured my ex-brother's money, he was marginally a millionaire, pretty much covered any feelings of guilt that might the trio might otherwise have been assailed by withal. My analysis of such notwithstanding, I would discover much later just how completely in error my analysis was.

******

It was Thanksgiving week. The Henry and Kimberly Harris household was duly appointed with the trappings of the season. The smells from the kitchen put the period on that sentence.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Love you, babe," said Henry.

Still facing away from him, she smiled. "Love you too big boy," she said. "Did you get an RSVP from aunt Millie?" she said.

"Yes, she sends her regrets. No explanation, just her regrets, same as last year," he said. "It's been a year and a half and she still hasn't forgiven us for - well - you know."

"Yes, I know. I wonder what he is doing for the holidays," she said.

"Who knows. He could be here or us at his place, but my erstwhile brother has decided to cut himself off from us, and there's no getting around it. It's up to him same as always," said Henry. "At least some members of the clan still talk to us. It could have been worse."

She turned to face him. "Yes, but if anybody ever gets wind of the fact that you are Samantha's real dad - well - I hate to think of what might come of it," she said.