A Letter of No Return

Joe never met his firstborn. He didn't even know he had another son, at least not until after he picked up his mail. This particular letter hit him with a low blow nasty as an icy chill similar to last December's cool breath.

 

His was hard pressed to breathe properly. Joe clutched the letter tightly, wanting to scream, but couldn't. He had to calm himself.

 

He pushed himself away from the table. His early morning snack, a toast with peanut butter, sat cold and forgotten on his plate. It belonged to a fancy patterned set Aunt Lila sent for his wedding a year ago, a long distance gift from Winnipeg. Joe’s usual custom was to get up ahead of everyone and collect the mail, to be first to read the news.

 

He kept staring at the letter from this morning's mail. No return-address either.

 

He couldn't even read the postal cancellation, or when it was sent. By coincidence or plan, the smudged envelope helped mask any clue from a mysterious sender. Almost like a thief in the night. Except now it had become an unwelcome intruder. More like an alien invader in his home, a microbe sneaking in under his doorframe.

 

A thought snuck in from the past. It had stuck to him like a deer tick, never letting go---after all these years. His mind reeled at the sudden image of Jenny, a name from the past.

 

Her name occupied his thoughts every once in a while, like a pesky mosquito trying to wear down its prey. Now he had to face up to the possibility of certain facts, like a powerful smack right between the eyes.

 

Now thinking of his wife, Ann, sleeping in the next room brought tears to his eyes. He loved her so much.

 

His coffee was getting cold, too much thinking going on. At least his feet were snug in a neat pair of last Christmas-gift slippers. What a time to get this kind of news. Especially since the family was getting excited about holiday camping plans, in just a few weeks.

 

The cryptic message, in neat handwriting, continued to burn deeply into his heart.

 

"Joe Thompson, you have a son," the letter said. "He'll be fourteen next month, the beginning of a new year. Hah!"

 

The readable part of the envelope was dated January 14. Except this was now June. Which meant the boy was certainly fourteen by now. Somehow the letter was late being delivered. Or Jenny held it back for some reason. As if she had second thoughts before allowing it to penetrate his very soul.

 

The last sentence was cruel. It was not typical of Jenny. She must have been carrying a mountain of a grudge. Obviously she was pregnant when he left. Why didn't she say anything? She was such a secretive sort, always holding back. As if events in her life should always be under her control.

 

That dominating attitude finally turned him off. He wondered at the time why he didn't break off their relationship before something happened. Obviously it did. Staring through the window at nothing in particular allowed a flood of painful memories. Clutching bread morsels, several crows scooted to the backyard.

 

"I want my first child to be a son," he remembered saying so many years ago.

 

It was about fifteen years ago when he was sure their relationship was heading for marriage. Jenny's parents had liked him, at least at first. Later, it seemed his career choice was not ambitious enough for them. Then he and Jenny began to disagree about too many things besides wedding plans. He couldn't handle unnecessary arguments and was continually embroiled in them.

 

He and Jenny began to talk about calling off their wedding or postponing it. But she was too furious and said things, which soured any further relationship. The memory of her anger burned in his chest.

 

Her letter lay on the table---

“...When you talked about walking out of my life I couldn't tell you about my pregnancy, I  was so upset. And then my father said you were from the wrong side of the tracks, among other things. You didn't have to take his comments so personal. I blamed you for everything then...for giving up on me...on us."

 

Joe stood up, scratched an itch. He scuffled in his slippers across the polished floor to the window. He leaned on the sill wishing to absorb the peacefulness outside. The sun was rising slowly over Victoria Park’s tree line, on the western edge of Truro. It looked like an egg yolk threatening to split open and cover everything with an umbrella of warmth.

 

He needed Ann's warm embrace as he turned his head in the direction of their bedroom. What to say? She lay in their waterbed not more than 50 feet away? She's probably awake by now, wondering why he's taking so long.

 

There was a creepy chill crawling all the way up the center of his back. How to tell Ann? Will she still love him? A headache began a campaign to master him.

 

What about his two precious children? Paul, just eleven, and a baby in the scheme of life, even though he acts more like fourteen. Will he understand when he finds out he has a brother he never met? And that someone else is a first son. Joe already told Paul he was the one with that distinct honor.

 

"You're my oldest child and just a hair away from being the same as a first born son," Joe had said. "That's a very precious feeling for me," he added at the time. Joe knew Paul, his newly adopted son would chisel those words deep inside his heart. Now it was all turned around; not Paul, but perhaps someone else has the honor. Is there room for another boy in their life now? Joe wondered.

 

What about dear little Leah? She’s such a pretty young lady and looking forward to a great first summer with her new daddy. Will her reaction be a happy one? Will she still love him? Her new daddy is her special teddy bear, her protector from the darkness of the night. He’s the one who leaves her bedroom door ajar and night-light on never making fun of her fears.

 

Daddy’s the guy who chases away scary thunder and lightning bolts, and holds her close when the rain pours and clouds rumble. And who sings to her while she closes her eyes and falls asleep in his arms. How could he protect her from this? Besides, will she still turn to him in awe?

 

He loves his children so much, even if they were adopted only six months ago. The official papers were signed on December 17. That event in their lives became a special family Christmas present. It was so natural for them to be together, a family united with one common purpose, to love one another. And for he and Ann to grow older together, watching their children change into adults.

 

Will Ann truly understand? Is there enough love in her heart for another child? Will she also forgive Joe? A question adding up to more questions, was quite unnerving.

 

He heard a commotion in the hallway. Someone was ambling along in a sleepy walk. Short cautious footfalls signaled it was Leah. Obviously she discovered dad wasn't in bed with mom. After her usual first thing in the morning jumping on the bed, Ann probably sent her looking for dad. In a few moments his thoughts were confirmed.

 

"Mommy wants you to come back to bed, daddy."

 

"What about you?"

 

"Me too," she answered. "Come on, right now." She was clutching her doll, its fixed gaze staring. Not so with Leah. Her luminous brown eyes grew larger with each new question. She absorbed everything around her. 

 

"What's that in your hand?"

 

"Just something I got in the mail, pumpkin."

 

"Come here munchkins. Daddy needs a huge hug right about now. You came just in time to save me, precious."

 

She enjoyed hearing the little nicknames he showered on her.

 

Joe leaned down making it easier for his little ‘bambino’ to climb into his lap. Her breath puffed sleepily on his cheek as she circled his neck. She was soon comfortably snuggled against his chest.

 

Looking up through half closed eyes she said, "I love you daddy."

 

Were things about to change very much? A cloud now gathered in the recess of Joe's mind. It was like a finger poking around, exposing his secret. It dangled as an acrobat hanging on the edge of blackness, pointing right at his heart. What to do?

 

Joe read once again --

"...he was born in London, Ontario..." Jenny's words must have pounded across her keyboard, perhaps in pain as she hammered on the alphabet.

 

How many tears did she shed as words ripped from her heart? Did she spend restless nights thinking about her son not knowing who his father was? Their son, the little boy he never even had a chance to hold, or watch grow up. If only he had known. Would it have changed anything? Didn't she even care that just maybe they could have been a family? Perhaps they could have worked something out.

 

Was this her way for retribution? Did she tell him now out of bitterness or anger? Joe searched for understanding in the typewritten letter. He sought refuge from the stark words:

 

"...I never got married and eventually couldn't discipline him anymore. He became more than a handful. I had to give him up to the Children's Aid. It was my decision. Mine alone, even though my parents thought it best. You can find him if you want, I don't really care. And yet I do. Maybe he could hook up with your family...if you could ever find him. I just don't care about him anymore. Sorry about this."

 

…Jenny

 

Now what did she mean? Joe wondered. "...If he could find him."

 

Another noise in the hallway reached his ears. This time he knew it was Paul shuffling down the hall. The slapping sounds of his growing bare feet entered the kitchen.  He was already up to a men's size nine sneaker. At five foot six, he was almost as tall as Joe. When they stood toe to toe, Paul could look directly into his father's eyes. It was due to his long legs.

 

The boy didn't notice his father sitting quietly nearby, watching. A few cupboards were opened as the contents of shelves were searched for something good to eat. A boy's appetite at eleven years of age was something else. Probably looking for mom's peanut butter cookies, Joe thought. Then a hesitation of sound, as Paul turned his head to his father.

 

"Didn't see ya dad," Paul said peering into the living room.

 

Joe liked being called, "dad." It made him feel like a whole person, fulfilled. To have a son like Paul was something he always dreamed about, and a son who liked to fish and camp, too. No matter if it was canoeing, hiking, or even tenting. Bring it on, the boy could take it. "Rain or shine," became their motto. The weather reports never fazed them or cancelled any outings, once planned.

 

Then Joe read the almost forgotten paragraph---

PS. “Your picture was in a copy of the Truro Daily News someone sent me. Always wondered where you ended up. You might even find me if you tried. But, I'm out of your life. There's nothing here for you. It's over. Just thought you'd like to know...and oh yes, your son’s name is Edward."        

 

Looking around the room Joe wondered if his newfound world was going to go up in smoke. He sat there with a bewildered look on his face. His children would soon be joining him, and it would all have to come out.

 

His thoughts returned to Edward, the son he had not yet met. What kind of child was he? Did he have a good growing up period? Questions and more questions tossed and turned through half-closed eyes.

 

There was only one thing to do right now. And that was to sit down with his wife, then children and share the contents of this letter. Joe did not look forward to it. He carefully placed the letter on the table, and began to think about what to say to his family. Then he got up and walked slowly to his waiting wife, and tell her about the letter.