A STORM OF VOICES story

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

That never forgotten moment was still fresh in his mind. At the time he was descending Jacob's ladder at Victoria Park in Truro, Nova Scotia. He was in a silly race down the steep stairs with his son Paul when he slipped and landed on his backside, sliding at least thirty steps downward.

Thankfully the landing was into a small snow bank, and his added reward was a neck full of snow. Now he reached around and rubbed his backside, remembering. His lungs were the same now, 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. Also to be alone with his thoughts, enjoying the short fresh air walk and the quietness of the trees rustling in the breeze on his front lawn.

Joe gobbled up almost anything in print. Keeping up to the morning news was a delight, except for this shocking letter.

MacLean's magazine topped his list of magazine subscriptions, none today though. Thankfully the Halifax Chronicle Herald newspaper was waiting. He had to read early in order to start the day off. To catch up on what was happening in the world. Too often, the world's sadness displayed itself in lurid headlines. He preferred reading fillers with good news. Considering all the difficult situations he faced in his Social Service work, he needed something besides coffee to give him a healthy lift.

And various news items provided ammunition for more interesting conversation than just talking about the weather with friends at coffee break. "Hey, did you hear about that movie star who died of cancer?" they usually asked. "No," Joe would answer then turn the conversation into a lighter moment.

Dad said, “There’s always a silver lining in every cloud.” And Joe tried to follow that precept.

He kept staring at the letter from this morning's mail. No return address either. Joe hated that. How could anyone not address mail properly? Perhaps ‘No Return’ meant someone didn't want it returned. And could have easily ended up in the 'Dead End' bin.

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; an alien invader in his home, a microbe sneaking in under his doorframe.

Joe had a chill remembering an old saying coming home to roost. "What goes around comes around." 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.

Just 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 Christmas-gift slippers. What a time to get this kind of news. And with the family talking about holiday camping plans, in just a few weeks.

The cryptic message, in neat handwriting, continued to burn its way deep into his heart...
"Joe Thompson, you have a son," the letter began. "He'll be fourteen next month, the beginning of a new year. Hah!"

The readable part of the envelope was dated December 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 their relationship was heading for marriage. Jenny's parents had liked him, at least at first. Later, it did not really matter and the family agreed it was best not to go ahead with their plans. Somehow he and Jenny began to disagree about too many things besides wedding plans. He couldn't handle arguments and was continually embroiled in them.

He and Jenny tried to talk about calling off their wedding or even postponing it. But she was furious and said things, which soured any further relationship. The memory of her angry statements still burned in his chest. Now he understood why she was so upset.

Her letter lay on the table:
“...When you talked about walking out of my life I couldn't tell you about the baby, 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, scratching an itch. His slippers scuffled 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 this precious moment. Mown the memory of Ann's warm embrace made him turn 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. He could picture her chuckling to herself right now.

Joe enjoyed talking to JC, their cat or anyone passing by, a paperboy or a jogger, perhaps having their tasks interrupted by his chatter. After that he would backtrack with eyes curious as to what else was going on. His ‘chatty’ habits always made her shake her head in an amused way.

She was amazed at the way he noticed most everything; someone's new car, even the trimming of a tree. Or, a neighbor's changed hairdo. Unfortunately right now 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.

And Paul 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. The one who leaves her bedroom door ajar with the night-light on and never makes 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? Questions added 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 exploratory trip into their room then jumping on the bed. Ann probably sent her. In a few moments his thoughts were confirmed.

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

"And 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."

"Oh."

"Come here munchkins. Daddy needs a huge hug right about now. You came just in time, precious." She liked to hear all the little nicknames he kept showering 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. In a few moments she snuggled comfortably against his chest.

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

Joe had met Ann just over a year ago. It was long after his involvement with Jenny was over. Any memories of their relationship had almost been forgotten over the years, blurred by work demands in various social service positions throughout Ontario.

Then a new job opportunity almost jumped at him from the newspaper classifieds. He applied, flew in for an interview and was hired. Moving to Nova Scotia was an adventure for Joe. It was this characteristic he wished to pass on to his children. To be prepared for moves, for meaningful changes in busy lives. Would this be the first major test? He wondered.

Ann had been divorced for five years when he first met her at a church dance. She was everything he wanted. Saying he loved her was not enough to express a release of feelings, wanting to be with her and near her forever. The loneliness he had felt so long was over. Their courting was brief. He knew they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together.

Why not complete the dance before someone else spots this treasure? He told himself. They joined together as a family within three months. In fact, before the next major rainstorm he proposed. That they be joined together as one. Man, wife, a daughter and son. It was perfect. Well, at least most of them had wanted it this way.

There was another child not quite in the picture. Thirteen-year-old Chris could not accept the fact his mother wanted to marry again. It seems he always hoped his dad would get back together with his mom. When it didn't happen, Chris relented to his dad's request and moved to Halifax with him.

It was Joe's wish that adoption of his two other children take place as soon as possible. That is, if Leah and Paul consented. They did. And of course, so did Ann. Their dad was very considerate to give up his legal rights. Joe felt bad at first, asking Paul and Leah’s natural father to give up so much. But when he saw the excitement in both their eyes, he realized it was a most reasonable request, and the natural thing to do.

The day they were officially man and wife was like a sweet-smelling bouquet of flowers. It created a wonderful garden in his heart and now this morning, weeds threatened to take over. 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 keyboard.

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? Maybe they could have worked something out.

Is this her form of 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 because of 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 out. 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.

Paul tiptoed into the room, not wanting to disturb Leah coiled up on dad's lap. As he approached her hands raised up pretending to ward off some menacing monster.

"I can see you," her little voice piped up. She was making scared-cat faces as she peeked through splayed fingers.

"Aarrgh!" he yelled out. Then her imaginative brother fell to the floor, writhing as if in agony. This always captured his sister's attention. She quickly scrambled from her father's lap, looking down at her brother with a serious frown. Suddenly a hand snaked up and pulled her on top of the boy.

Both tumbled around on the floor bringing a smile to Joe's face. He watched as his children tickled and wrestled, arms and legs intertwining, noticing how gentle Paul was with his little sister.

Ann said after their divorce Paul was only six, and had to grow up quickly. Money was tight which meant they couldn’t go many places with an admission price. The family spent a lot of time on 'freebies' like picnics and playing in the park. The boy had also learned to enjoy his sister's company, like now.

"Dad. Help me," his son asked. "Quick, I'm getting eaten by an ugly creature."

"Not!" Leah's voice said indignantly. "I'm a saber-toothed tiger."

Joe reached forward, only to lose his balance as Paul also pulled him down. Now there were three in the scramble. Grunts and cries of "Oohs" and "Ahhs" were sure to bring their mother to join in the fun. It was good being here on the floor, both children laughing as they sat on their dad's chest and tummy.

"Do you think I'm an elephant, or something?" Joe asked.

"You're an, 'or something' " Leah answered smartly.

"Tricked ya, huh?" His son was wearing a grin as wide as the sky. Then he leaned forward and placed the tip of his nose against his father's. His eyebrows lifted as he stared deeply. "Love ya," he whispered.

During these moments of pure joy, something as interruptive as a letter from a stranger out of the past was unimportant. It lay discarded and crumpled on the floor, the last paragraph almost forgotten-
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. By now, his children stopped wrestling, leaving him to his thoughts, understanding he had something on his mind. From past experiences they knew dad would talk with them about it when the time was right.

Joe reviewed why he had moved to Truro, Nova Scotia after a long and successful career in Social Services in various jurisdictions in Ontario. He worked as a General Welfare Caseworker for the Town of Brampton, then joined the Provincial Government as a Family Benefits Worker, in London, Ontario.

There he earned a reputation as a caring and concerned civil servant. After his breakup with Jenny, he knew he needed a total change of scenery and decided to move to the East Coast. A previous visit several years before to Cape Breton had convinced him he'd like to live in this province one day.

Applying for and getting a position with the Colchester County Social Services Department was a stroke of luck. Someone had just retired and the supervisor was looking for someone with experience who could try to fill 'big shoes.’

Everyone seemed satisfied with his style and personality. Rapid advancement through the ranks of respect was based on his common sense approach to any situation. The best comment he had heard about himself was when someone said he had his head “screwed-on-right.” The expression was a plus and confirmed by another co-worker.

Joe had received extensive training in Child Abuse situations. He invested a lot of time and energy in making himself knowledgeable about abuse in the areas of physical and sexual situations. It was a developing field in preparing social workers to deal with an increasing problem, compounded by revelations in provincially administered training schools in the province. Serious questions of abuse against children, investigated by the RCMP already produced a lengthy report.

And Joe had been called upon several times to provide helpful input. Besides, Joe had some unpleasant memories of his own he needed to deal with. Unknown to anyone on staff, he himself had been a victim of sexual abuse at an early age by an older boy.

Through increased training he hoped to be of help to children in the community, with similar unhappy experiences. He knew his coming to Nova Scotia would challenge him in ways not yet known. And, they did. Little did he realize that his past would follow him to Nova Scotia.

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 his 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 headed to the bedroom knowing his wife really loved him.

~ ~ ~

(c) Richard & Esther Provencher 2008

NOTE: This ends the first chapter of a 66,500 word completed novel titled: “FOOTPRINTS.” This contemporary novel is now available from www.synergebooks.com. It’s about family relationships and how a wife and two children deal with a father/husband’s search for a son he never knew he had.

“Someone’s Son” and “Into The Fire” will also be available soon by the same company. These books were written during the first several years while Richard was recovering from his stroke, which felled him in 1999. He is still recovering.

The link to “FOOTPRINTS” is as follows: http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_footprints.html