Richard Paul Evans: The Complete Walk Series eBook Boxed Set

  She was quiet a moment, then asked, “When is your father’s funeral?”

  “It’s just a viewing. It’s this Friday.”

  “In Pasadena?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind if I came out?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “We can talk then,” she said. “There are things to be said.” Her voice was laced with sadness.

  I breathed out slowly, wondering what she meant. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll talk then.”

  “I’d like to contact my brother. Can you tell me where he is?”

  “He was in the King County jail in Seattle.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for looking for me.”

  “Like you did when I disappeared in Spokane.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Call me when you’re in town,” I said.

  “I will. Bye.”

  “Goodbye,” I said.

  I hung up the phone. The call hadn’t gone the way I’d hoped it would. Actually, I’m not sure what I’d hoped for—except that she would sound more excited to hear from me. Or that she would tell me she still loved me. Instead, it sounded as if something had changed in the time we’d been apart.

  Nicole was in the living room reading the family history when I walked in. She set the binder down. “Did you call?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head. “No. But she’s coming out for the viewing.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-One

  Kailamai is back. Fortunately she brought her jokes with her.

  Alan Christoffersen’s diary

  The next two days were busy, which was a blessing, as it kept my mind from all the things I would rather not think about, including my conversation with Falene. Something had clearly changed. Still, she was coming out. That had to be significant.

  I systematically worked down my father’s list. I decided that until I knew what I was going to do after I finished my walk I would just keep the house. Maybe I would live in Pasadena for a while. Maybe forever. At this point anything was possible.

  Kailamai flew in from Spokane on Thursday night around six.

  Kailamai was the young woman I had rescued from a group of men just outside of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. She had run away from her foster care family just before her eighteenth birthday. I had connected her with Nicole, and the two of them now lived together.

  We went directly from LAX to dinner, a little sushi restaurant in Pasadena called Matsuri. It had been more than six months since I’d seen Kailamai, and she had changed quite a bit. Her appearance was different. She looked like a student. She wore a Gonzaga college sweatshirt and purple-framed glasses. She had taken out her nose piercing and wore only one pair of earrings. But the more significant change was less tangible. She seemed . . . domesticated. After we had ordered our meals Kailamai said, “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  “Thank you. He was a good man.”

  “Nicole said that all the time. She’s going to miss him.”

  “We all will,” Nicole said.

  “So how’s school?” I asked.

  “It’s going really well,” Kailamai said.

  “Straight As,” Nicole said.

  “And I met someone.”

  Nicole’s eyes widened.

  “Someone?” I asked.

  “His name is Matt. He’s also prelaw. He’s pretty special.”

  “This is news,” Nicole said.

  “Well, you’ve been gone like two weeks. Things happen fast with me.”

  “Apparently,” Nicole replied.

  “You’ll meet him when we get back. If you ever come back.”

  “I’m coming back,” Nicole said.

  Kailamai turned to me. “How far have you gotten on your walk? The last I heard you were in Alabama.”

  “I made it to the northern border of Florida—a little town called Folkston.”

  “Are you still going to finish?”

  “I’m planning to.”

  “And we’re planning on being there when you arrive in Key West,” she said. “So just make sure you don’t do it around any of my finals.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes.

  After we had started eating, Kailamai said, “So a woman is sitting in a bar when someone says, ‘Hey, you’re really hot.’ She looks around but can’t see anyone looking at her. Then she hears, ‘Is that a new blouse? You’re lookin’ good, girl.’ She suddenly realizes that it’s the bowl of pretzels in front of her that’s talking. She tries to ignore it and orders a Chardonnay. The pretzels say, ‘Hmm, Chardonnay. You’re one classy babe.’ The woman says to the bartender, ‘Hey, your pretzels keep saying nice things to me.’ The bartender replies, ‘They do that. They’re complimentary.’ ”

  “You live with this?” I asked Nicole.

  “Daily,” she said.

  “She loves me,” Kailamai said.

  Nicole lifted a piece of sushi with her chopstick. “I do,” she replied. “But I also love raw tuna.”

  I went to bed around ten while Kailamai and Nicole stayed in the kitchen and talked. As I plugged in my cell phone to recharge it, I received a text from Falene. All it said was that she would be in LA around noon. I texted back to see if she needed a ride or a place to stay, but she didn’t respond.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  Today I said goodbye to two people I love.

  Alan Christoffersen’s diary

  I woke the next morning to Nicole’s and Kailamai’s voices in the kitchen. I pulled on a robe and walked out. The kitchen was a mess.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Nicole said.

  “What are you concocting in here?” I asked.

  “Eggs Benedict,” Nicole replied. “It will be a few more minutes.”

  I sat down at the table. Kailamai sat down next to me. “Do you want to hear a joke?”

  I rubbed a hand across my face. “Sure.”

  “A new preacher was asked to speak at a country funeral. He had never been to the area where the funeral was and he got lost in the woods. After wandering around for nearly an hour he came upon some men gathered around an open grave. The preacher apologized for being late and started in. Feeling bad that the deceased man only had the diggers around his grave, the preacher tried to make up for it by giving the best eulogy he could. He preached with such passion that even the workers were shouting, ‘Praise God’ and ‘Glory be!’

  “After the eulogy one of the diggers said to the preacher, ‘Preacher, that was inspirin’. I ain’t never seen anything like that before, and I’ve been puttin’ in septic tanks for twenty years!’ ”

  “Kailamai,” Nicole said indignantly. “Really?”

  She flushed. “I asked if he wanted to hear it.”

  “About a funeral?” Nicole said.

  “I’m sorry,” Kailamai said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. I whispered to her, “It was pretty funny.”

  Kailamai grinned furtively. “I thought so.”

  A few minutes later Nicole brought over our breakfasts.

  “You really don’t need to go to all this trouble,” I said. “I’m used to eating light.”

  “Who said I’m doing it for you?” she said, grinning.

  After Kailamai went upstairs to get ready, Nicole said, “I’m sorry about that joke. Kailamai doesn’t know how to deal with death.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said. “After all she’s been through, it’s amazing the changes she’s made. You’ve done a remarkable job with her.”

  “Thank you,” Nicole said. “Sometimes I feel like I’m her mother.”

  “You are,” I said.

  She smiled. A moment later she asked, “Have you heard from Falene?”

  “Just a text. She said her flight will be in around noon.”

  “That’s good.” She breathed out. “Are you pic
king her up?”

  “I offered, but she never responded.”

  “Give her some time,” Nicole said. “Things will work out.”

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Unlike Nicole, I hadn’t really thought about what I would wear to the viewing, and I ended up running out at the last moment to buy some loafers, a dress shirt, and a two-piece suit. I got home just in time to shower and get dressed. I borrowed one of my father’s ties.

  Before leaving I went to my room and got the letter that Falene had written. I folded it in half and put it in my coat pocket.

  Nicole suggested that we drive separately to the funeral home, so I would be free to stay out late with Falene. I wondered why I still hadn’t heard from her.

  The viewing was scheduled to start at six, and at the funeral director’s request we arrived an hour early. I had taken just a few steps into the chapel when I froze. Seeing the casket at the front of the room brought forth a rush of such painful memories that I had to sit down. Nicole stood next to me, rubbing my back. It took me several minutes before I could look at my father’s body.

  He was dressed in his navy blue suit with a solid, light blue tie and a matching handkerchief. After I had walked away from the casket Nicole and Kailamai approached. Nicole said softly, “He looks good.”

  “For being dead,” Kailamai replied.

  “Stop it,” Nicole said.

  “I’m sorry,” Kailamai said.

  The chapel wasn’t large, but it was more than sufficient for the modest attendance we expected. In one corner of the room there was a Steinway grand piano. Near the entryway there was a round burled walnut table with an easel holding a gold-framed picture of my father in his military dress uniform and a wedding picture of my parents. There was also a felt-lined case of his war medals, something my mother had put together for him before I was born. I hadn’t provided the memorabilia, so I assumed my father had left it with them years before.

  A few minutes before six o’clock a woman sat down at the piano and began playing “The Impossible Dream” from Man of La Mancha. If lives had theme songs, “The Impossible Dream” would have been my father’s.

  Guests began arriving a few minutes before the hour. There was a sizable crowd, much larger than I’d expected. It was a testament to the man my father was. I believe every client he’d ever had was there.

  I stood next to the casket and thanked people for coming. Some of them were grieving heavily, and I heard story after story about how good my father had been to people. I felt sad that I hadn’t known all this about him, but my father wasn’t one to talk about the good that he’d done.

  There were many women, some whose names I recognized from the packages that had been left on the doorstep over the last few weeks. An attractive, middle-aged woman with short, dark hair introduced herself as Gretchen O’Connor. I remembered the name from the family history. She was the woman my father almost married. I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  There were many of my father’s buddies from Vietnam. They approached the casket as a group. They spoke of my father’s courage and leadership. One told me that a common occurrence in Vietnam was fragging, where platoon leaders were so disliked by their soldiers that they were killed by grenades thrown by their own men. He said, “That never would have happened with your father. Every one of us would have taken a bullet for him.” As he said this all the men nodded in agreement.

  An hour into the viewing Nicole brought me a glass of water. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has she come?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “She’ll come,” she said.

  It was a little past eight thirty when I saw Falene standing at the end of the line, near the chapel entrance. As always she looked strikingly gorgeous. Still, she looked different. Though she always dressed nicely, tonight her clothes looked expensive. It might sound strange to say it, but she looked expensive—her makeup and jewelry and shoes, even the way she carried herself. Her new world had changed her appearance. I wondered if the change was more than skin deep.

  Our glances met, and I motioned for her to come up. Her beautiful brown eyes were filled with tears as she put her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Alan. You don’t deserve this.”

  I just held her. After we separated she said, “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  “I was wondering if you were going to make it.”

  “Me too,” she said. “The taxi driver took me to the wrong place. Twice. He barely spoke English.”

  “I’m glad you made it,” I said. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiled sadly. “So do you.” She glanced back at the line of mourners. “You have a lot of people here. We can talk after you’re done.” We embraced once more, then she walked to the back of the room.

  It took another full hour to go through the rest of the line. One of the visitors was my father’s friend Carroll, the private investigator who had found Falene for me. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly. “Your father was a fine man. A man’s man. The world’s a darker place without him.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “By the way, did you get my message about the woman you were looking for?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Thank you. In fact, that’s her right there.”

  He turned and looked at Falene, his gaze lingering on her longer than was appropriate. “Wow, she’s a looker,” he said, finally turning back. “No wonder you wanted to hunt her down. I’m glad that worked out.”

  I just nodded, bothered by his assessment but still in his debt for finding her. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Anything for your father,” he said. “You make him proud.”

  At one point I noticed Nicole talking to Falene. To my relief they both looked comfortable. When the line had finally dwindled, Nicole walked up to me. “Kailamai and I are going back to the house. Do you need anything?”

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Thank you for everything today.”

  She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Good luck.” She walked off. Falene had been sitting quietly in a tucked leather chair across the room. She stood and walked to me. “May I see your father?”

  “Of course.”

  She walked to the side of the casket. Her eyes filled with tears. I stepped up beside her. She said, “I know you two weren’t always really close, but he loved you. When I was looking for you in Spokane . . . he was so upset.” She turned and looked at me. “What I would have given to have had a father like that.”

  A moment later the funeral director walked up to us. “It’s after nine thirty, so I’ve locked the front door,” he said. “It was a beautiful evening—a real tribute to your father.”

  “It was nice,” I said.

  “I tell you, your father was a pleasure to work with. We don’t need to talk about the details right now, but at your convenience, give us a call and we’ll go over his burial plans in Colorado.”

  I nodded my assent.

  “Oh, and on your way out remember to take your pictures and medal display. I’m sure you’ll want those.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m going to shut the casket now. Would you like another moment?”

  “Please.”

  The director stepped aside. Again I approached the casket. I looked at him for a moment, then said, “Thank you for being my father. I hope you’re with Mom.” I closed my eyes as they filled with tears. Then I leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and turned to the director. “Okay.” I stepped away from the casket, my eyes still fixed on my father’s body.

  The funeral director stepped forward. He reached inside the casket and unlatched the lid, then slowly shut it. Another pang of emotion filled my chest, and Falene put her hand on my lower back.

  The director turned back to me. “I need to turn the lights out in about fifteen minutes. You can let yourself out the front door.” He walked out of the room.

  I took a deep breat
h, then turned to Falene. “We can talk in my car.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. As long and as well as I had known her, at that moment I couldn’t read her.

  I collected the pictures from the display, and Falene carried the case of my father’s medals.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” I said.

  “It’s a lot warmer here than it is in New York. It was in the thirties at JFK. Maybe not even that.”

  “How was your flight?”

  “Long,” she said. “The guy sitting next to me had sneaked a fifth onto the plane. He was sloshed by the time we landed. He kept trying to touch me. The police had to carry him off.”

  “Lovely,” I said.

  “At least he didn’t throw up on me,” she said.

  We put the pictures and medal case in the trunk. Then I opened the door for her and she climbed in. I got in the other side and started the car.

  “Do you want to go somewhere?” I asked.

  “Whatever you want,” she replied.

  I drove to the arboretum. It was after hours and the park was closed, but after spending so much of my childhood there I knew how to sneak in. We walked in the dark along the back fence to a section of the grounds near a pond where McKale and I used to catch crayfish. There was a streetlamp about thirty yards from the bench, providing enough illumination for us to see. We sat down next to each other.

  “This is where you got married, isn’t it?” Falene said.

  “Over there on the other side of the entry. It’s a little better weather tonight.” I looked into her eyes and could see the moon’s reflection from the pond. “Thank you for coming,” I said.

  “I wanted to be here for you.”

  “You’ve always been there for me,” I said.

  “Except for when I wasn’t,” she replied. I guessed that she was referring to what I’d said to her on the phone, which made me regret saying it even more.

  I said, “You asked how I found you. I hired a private investigator. It took him a while to track you down. I think he called every modeling agency in New York.”