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Saltwater City

Dennis Robleski

    Kimme picked up her cellphone from the desk and saw from the caller ID it was him. She stared hard at his name, looked away and exhaled and then back. She had ignored his call yesterday; she knew she might as well answer this one.
    “Hi Dad.”
    “I need a favor, Kimme.”
    She bit down lightly on her lower lip, “Really nice of you to call, Dad. What’s that – oh, I’m well, thanks for asking.”
    Speaking slowly, he said, “Oh come on, don’t start with that attitude, little girl. You know I’d ask.” He could be so patronizing.
    “Right. Let me guess, you’ve been arrested for tax evasion and you need me to come to Miami and bail you out?”
    He laughed, “I’d never get caught, you know that. I’m smart enough to hire the best scumbags around to complicate things and no minimum wage IRS flunky will ever figure out what I owe.”
    “OK, then you got some twenty-year-old pregnant and you want to introduce me to my new mom?” Her real mom, probably all of twenty herself in the picture on her desk, smiled at her. She hit him with that one especially for her.
    “I didn’t know you had such a low opinion of me, Kimme. How about this, rather than you continuing to make disparaging guesses, why don’t I tell you why I called?”
    “Actually, I kinda like doing this. Can’t we just keep going, Daddy?”
    But now he had taken control of the conversation. “I need you to travel to my 50^th reunion in Ionia with me.”
    With a million guesses, Kimme wouldn’t have hit on that. Was he kidding? Not likely. He was a lot of things – agelessly handsome, crafty, and as smooth as any pickpocket - but he was no kidder. He didn’t waste his precious time.
    “Are you serious? You want me to chaperone you to your high school reunion? In Ionia? OK, Dad, ok, tell me why? Why the hell would you go? All you’ve done since I can remember was badmouth that place.”
    “Same reason everybody goes – curiosity. I want to see if my guesses about people were right after fifty years. See if the football stud ended up doing road construction and reliving ‘the big game’ every weekend over cheap beer. Maybe see some ugly ducklings who look better now than they did then. I’m surrounded by women here who use every trick they can to fight off gravity. I doubt many of my high school classmates can afford the best plastic surgeons, so maybe I’d see ‘graceful aging’, if there is such a thing.”
    “But not to show off the money and the tan, right?”
     Without a trace of anger that she could detect he replied, “You know Kimme, I don’t need this. I need my daughter to come with me to a reunion. Will you do it for me, baby?” She knew he couldn’t be goaded into anything. He had always been this way, but she still felt it her duty to try. For her sake. And her mother’s.
    Before she could answer, he added, “And of course I’ll pay for everything.”
    “No Dad, if I’m going, I’m paying my own way. Got it?”
    “Hey, just trying to make the decision easier. They can’t pay a winemaker in Santa Barbara that much.” And then, for the first time in a while, he surprised her. “Kimme. it’d mean a lot to me if you’d go. I need your help if I’m going to go.”
    Disarmed, Kimme lost the will to continue her barrage and quietly replied, “Let me check the schedule around here, and I’ll get back to you. When is it?”
    “Two weeks away, August 17^th, but I’ll probably need you the whole week to get here, there and back to LA.”
    “Alright, I’ll let you know.”
    Two years ago she would have said no without worrying about coming up with a reason. After all, traveling with him meant spending several days with him, and that would violate her strategy of dealing with him only in small doses. But things were different now.
    She could think of at least one good reason not to go. A few hotter days here and there in the summer months, rains that came unexpectedly in the usually dry August, or the descent of fires across the valley as had happened last year, could all push harvest timing around quickly. Leaving the grapes at a time like this could be disastrous, like taking a walk on the beach when steaks are on the grill.
    There was nothing else on her calendar that would stop her from going, since she blocked out August, September and October each year for the harvest. She could make this excuse if she wanted to, even though she knew the reality. The sparkling grapes had already been harvested and based on the weather this year and the condition of the grapes, no one expected harvest until mid-September or later. And Paul could probably handle any emergency.
    Paul was the owner of Lillian Lewis Vineyards. In some ways, he was the quintessential rich guy. He made his fortune in the energy business and decided to pursue his passion for wine, but what made him different was the way he did it. Rather than collecting ten thousand ridiculously expensive bottles, he started his own winery. Paul had no interest in just lending his fame to a 750ml bottle. He wanted to make memorable wine, so he learned the business from the bottom up. He planted and cultivated the first vines, tasted grapes alongside Kimme to understand when to harvest, learned blending techniques to produce the varietals, and visited restaurants and retailers to push his wines. And whenever possible, Paul was pouring tastes and talking to guests in the tasting room.
    Kimme decided to talk to Paul, half hoping he would say she shouldn’t leave at such a critical time. Either way, a face-off with regret was coming, but she figured if someone was going to be disappointed, it shouldn’t be a man she respected as much as Paul.
    He wasn’t in his office when she stopped by. She left a note and an hour later he poked his head through her doorway.
    “Morning Kim,” he said in his baritone South Texas voice.
    Kimme looked away from the weather report she had been reading on her computer screen and up at him. “Hi Paul. I’m guessing you were out in the fields. What did you think about the Chard grapes?”
    “You were right, they’re still on the bitter side. Probably a month or six weeks away, you think?
    “Yeah, about. Hey, I wanted to bounce something off you. My dad asked me to go somewhere with him in two weeks, probably gone for a week. It’s not good timing. I’d understand if you don’t want me to be gone.”
    His eyes narrowed as he said, “You want me to say no?”
    She hesitated with her answer, “I’m not sure what I want you to say, although no is probably easier for me to deal with.”
    “You know Kim, I’ve known you for six years and in all that time, the only thing you ever told me about your dad was that your mom divorced him. The way you said it says a lot.”
    “There’s not a lot else to say. We’re cordial but not close, mostly by my choice. He tries to stay in touch and I-”
    Paul pulled a chair out and sat down. “You know I had a falling out with my daughter when she was, I don’t know, about twenty-five. For a long time, things were just barely cordial between us. She was mad and I didn’t like getting blamed for something I didn’t think was my fault and that’s how things were for years. But as I got older, we both started seeing that there wasn’t a lotta time left to decide if we wanted to try and talk things out. I called her first and, well, she wasn’t interested in talking, but we eventually worked through it.”
    Kimme knew their situation wasn’t the same because Paul was a different man than her father.
    “I know what you’re thinking, things are different with your dad and you, and maybe they are. But what’s the same is he’s all the family you got. And whatever happened between your mom and him happened a long time ago. I think you should give him a chance. I think you should go.”
    Kimme unlocked eyes with Paul and looked down at her desk. Now she didn’t see that she had any choice, because not going would be like telling Paul he was wrong. And she would have to lie to her dad, although that was a lesser consideration.
    She looked back at Paul, “You sure? What if something happens here?”
    “It won’t, and if it does, I’ll be calling you, Kim. You can count on that,” he said with a wink and a nod.
    So now she was going.

_____________________________

    Kimme made her flight arrangements to Miami before she texted him to let him know she was coming. She decided to let him pay her way to Grand Rapids, Michigan and back; after all, she was doing him a favor.
    Two weeks came and went, and she boarded the plane out of LAX bound for Miami. Six hours to kill. During the flight she started and stopped two books and a movie on her iPad without investing any real time or attention in any of them. She was thinking of the typical daughter duty to her father. She knew he would hate that word, duty. Duty is obligation, repayment, and expectation. Duty is what you do for the weak, and she was about to do her duty for her old man, another phrase he wouldn’t like. But she also thought about what Paul had said about making amends before it’s too late. Did she care about that? There was no way for her to sort that out yet, she had been trying for two weeks. She would make that decision later.
    She had decided it was best for her to spend one night in Miami before going on to Michigan to break up the flights, so she was headed to his condo in Key Biscayne. After leaving the Uber outside his building, she paused before going in, looking up at the nine stories and knowing his condo was on the top floor, of course. She felt nervous but didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him recently. He was in L.A. last year and they had dinner. This felt different, like there was an expectation this time. She knew she had better push that feeling aside because nothing had really changed.
    She knocked on his door and waited and was about to knock again when it opened. There he was in the stereotypical Miami outfit – white Capri pants with a pale sky-blue shirt, barefoot. Even at sixty-eight, his hair still had a healthy dose of his original black mixed in with the distinguished gray. He was almost flawless, other than the sunspots just below his hairline on his forehead. He was Miami.
    While he held the door open with his left hand, he reached out with his right and took hers, drawing her to him. “Oh, it’s good to see you, little girl,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her back and hugged her. “Let me get your bag, honey.”
    “Hi Dad. How are you doing?”
    “Me? I’m great, great. How was your flight?”
    She examined him closely. A quick glance from anyone would tell you this is a man who lived the life. But she had history to compare him to. His voice still started in a strong, confident place, but she noticed how it softened the longer he spoke. His eyes, bluer than his shirt, met and held hers and would have looked completely normal to most, but as she looked into them, she was counting the seconds between his blinks.
    If she hadn’t been to his condo before, she would have needed some time to take it all in. The expensive furniture and art. The floor to ceiling windows, at least fifteen feet high facing east to the Atlantic Ocean shoreline. The white tiled floors. “The reward for applying yourself every day to what you do”, that’s what he called it. The place was immaculate, you wouldn’t even know anyone lived there.
    He led the way to her room, and she put her bags down then followed him back to the living room. He had already opened a bottle of Screaming Eagle, knowing her preference for California wines, and he poured them both a glass and they sat, he on a couch and she in a chair to his left. They talked for an hour. He was worse than the last time she had seen him, now that she knew the signs to look for. His speech was slower than before, and his face frequently held a blank expression, until he caught himself and forced his mouth open and into a smile. Whenever she asked about him, he gave short, nondescript answers and kept trying to turn the conversation to her, the winery and Santa Barbara. The veneer of her dislike began to peel away in the face of his diminishment.
    Kimme needed to try to sleep. Even though it was only 8:00 in her time zone, it was late here and they had a flight to catch mid-morning the next day. They retired to their rooms and Kimme laid down to rest, listening for his movements in the next room.
    As she laid across the still-made bed, she remembered how they had gotten here. How he had chosen another over her mother, not out of love but out of opportunity, and not of a desire for permanence with the other woman, but out of a lusting for the temporary. The overnight change in a child’s world from the family rituals – dinners, bedtime stories, walks around the neighborhood – to separate lives with a mother this day and a father the next, both too busy when their lives were divided to keep up with the daily routines. The divergent paths of their three lives; his into monetary nirvana and the excesses it brought; her mother’s into devotion to daughter and work, ignoring her own needs; and Kimme’s into bitter defense of her victim mother. He was suffering now, but her mother had suffered too, until God decided she had suffered enough and ended it.
    Fatigue from the long trip soon took over and she fell asleep, on fine linens to the sound of waves gently rolling over the white sands.

_____________________________

    She woke around 7:00 and wandered out to the living room to find him sitting in a chair that faced directly towards the ocean and the sun, which was now just above the horizon casting a beam of sunlight directly across the water towards them. “Have you been up for a while?”
    He must not have heard her come out of his room because her voice caused him to turn quickly in her direction. “Morning honey. Yeah, a few hours. I’d like to say I rise so I can catch the sunrise every day because that sounds romantic.”
    “But untrue?”
    “It’s a fringe benefit of waking up early every day. Hey, there are fresh berries and croissants and coffee in the kitchen, help yourself, ok?”
    “Do you want anything?”
    “No thanks, I’m just going to shower and finish packing. I have a limo picking us up at 8:30.”
    Kimme grabbed a croissant, strawberries and a cup of coffee and walked out to the patio to eat. She couldn’t linger too long, but it was breathtaking, the sights and sounds and smells of the ocean. This city would be paradise, if it weren’t materialistic and pretentious and fake. Kimme had started calling Miami “Saltwater City” after her first visit here; it seemed like the need for conspicuous consumption never ended in this town, just as drinking saltwater made you thirstier than you were before.
    After a quick shower and repacking of her bag, she stepped out of her bedroom and found him already dressed, packed and ready to go. It was 8:20; he was ready. On time is late. She could hear him thinking it.
    “Do you need help with your bag, Dad?”
    “Nope, I got it. Let’s head down. I’m sure the limo will be there, and it doesn’t hurt to leave early; traffic to the airport can be a bear sometimes.” He brought a single, rolling bag, and managed it through the hall and into and out of the elevator. Just as he said, the limo was waiting, and the driver loaded their suitcases into the trunk and brought them to curbside check in at the airport.
    He climbed out of the back of the limo and started looking along the sidewalk, apparently spotted what he was seeking and walked away from Kimme.
    Kimme caught up to him and they approached a uniformed airline employee standing behind a wheelchair.
    “I’m James Moore. I believe that chair is for me,” he said.
    The airline employee, Todd S. according to his name badge, said, “Hello Mr. Moore, my name’s Todd. I’m happy to take you through security and to your gate whenever you’re ready.”
    “My daughter is traveling with me. She’ll take care of that. Thank you,” he said and handed the young man a twenty-dollar bill.
    “Thank you, sir. You’re flying out of gate B37 and security section E is the most convenient. You can leave the chair at the gate and we’ll retrieve it, Miss.”
    Kimme knew this was why she was here, to push him around in a wheelchair. She was sure it was easier for him to stomach the disgrace by having her do it instead of someone else. Was this asking too much of her, though, to help him when she knew he genuinely needed it?
    He took a seat in the chair and Kimme guided him into the terminal, through security and to their gate, where he climbed out and into a seat in the boarding area.
    “So Dad, how far can you go without the chair now?”
    “It’s not a matter of how far, it’s how fast. I don’t use one at all at home, and since I retired last year, the walking has been mostly around my condo. My limo takes me everywhere I need to go.”
    “But no more salsa dancing, huh?” Kimme said with her first smile that day.
    His eyes traveled away from her as he replied, “Nope. No dancing. Just me in my condo most days.”
    Boarding was called and since they were in first class, they boarded early. Kimme followed him closely from behind down the jetway. He made it on his own, but she noticed how he shuffled, his shoes rubbing on the carpeted walkway. As he entered the plane, he kept a hand on the doorway, the interior walls and then the seats until he reached 5D and sat. Kimme took her seat, 5F, next to him on the window, and they settled in.
    “How’s retirement? Honestly, I didn’t think you would ever stop working because I just didn’t see you as one to recreate 100% of the time.”
    “It’s ok, I’m doing ok.”
    “How are you spending your time?”
    “Well, I’m reading a lot, I get out to dinner and drop by my office every couple weeks. They still have some investments that I’m involved in and on the board of. I stay in touch with those.”
    “What about socially? Do they do anything in your building regularly so you can hang out with your neighbors?”
    “Kimme, my neighbors all own three or four homes and they’re only here sporadically. When they are here, we aren’t getting together on Tuesdays to play bingo. They’re rich and they’re busy and they’re cordial but they’re not looking to fill in their social agendas; they’re already full.”
    “Do you have friends in the city that you see?”
    “Why are you suddenly interested?”
    Kimme didn’t know the answer to this. She never asked him about his life, because in the past he always gave her the rundown of his wonderful existence, even though she didn’t ask and didn’t care. Something about seeing him this way made her ask.
    “Because it sounds like you have a pretty lonely existence now, Dad.”
    “I said I’m doing ok, alright?”
    Kimme figured it was time to drop it. This wasn’t her concern anyway. She was just a valet for a few days and then would head back home. For the rest of the flight, they both mostly read from their tablets and were silent. When their flight touched down in Grand Rapids, the process reversed with the airline having sent a wheelchair and a porter into the jetway, the latter of which he declined in favor of his daughter. She pushed him through the terminal traffic until they reached baggage claim, where she saw a limo driver holding up a sign that said “James Moore”.
    The ride was short to Ionia, just over an hour, and they checked into their rooms at the Union Hill Bed & Breakfast around 3:00 that afternoon. They decided to rest in their rooms for a while and meet for dinner at 6:00. A few minutes before 6:00, though, he called and sounded like he had just woken up. “Is it ok with you if you just run out and get us something we can eat here, baby? I’m feeling a little worn out from the travel.”
    “Sure Dad, I’ll see what’s around and bring something back. Are you ok?”
    “That’s fine. Thanks, little girl.”
    Kimme fetched their food, walked back to the B&B, and knocked on his door. As she waited, she wondered how it could take someone this long to make it to the door in these little rooms. Finally, he appeared. “Thanks, Kimme. I’ll see you in the morning. Just text me when you are up and ready for breakfast.”
    It was too early to call it a night so after Kimme ate she left the B&B on foot to explore the city. She hadn’t been to Ionia since her grandmother passed away almost eighteen years ago, and the town had changed a lot. Like many small towns, Wal-Mart had invaded and changed the fabric of the city. Many of the little stores had closed, and Main Street was now a collection of boarded-up shops and coffee shops, bars, and banks, all businesses Wal-Mart hadn’t yet chosen to ruin. The streets were spruced up with decorative lights and a chiminea on one corner, and the courthouse had been given a facelift, at least from what Kimme could remember. She passed the courthouse and turned south, and six blocks later came up to the First Presbyterian Church. A sign placard advertised the Ionia High School Class of 1969 50^th Reunion being held in the church tomorrow evening. It promised ‘Great food, drink and reminiscing with your old friends. No cliques, just fun!’
    As she stood and read, she saw a man walking toward her. He was around the same age as her dad, but the slouch, the unkempt gray hair and beard distinguished him. When he reached the sign, he stood next to her and said, “You look a little young to be going to this, dear.”
    “I’m here with my dad, he was in that class.”
    “Oh, what’s his name?”
    “James Moore. I’m his daughter, Kimme,” she said as she extended her hand.
    He took her hand and gave a weak shake. “Hi Kimme, I’m Pete Dolan. You say your dad is Jim Moore? He said he’d be here, glad to see he made it. I wasn’t sure he would.”
    “What do you mean he said he was coming, Pete? Did you talk to him lately?”
    “No, we have a Facebook group for the Class of ‘69 that he joined about six months ago. We’re pretty active on it, you know, talking about what a pain in the butt it is gettin’ old. He mentioned the Parkinson’s. Sorry to hear about that, dear.”
    “Thanks, he’s doing ok. He’s too stubborn to be limited by it.”
    He laughed. “Just keep swinging, that’s all we can do. Well, Kimme, you tell him I said hello and I’ll see him tomorrow night.”
    He walked away, leaving Kimme to process. Millions of people used Facebook for this reason, to reconnect with and keep in touch with old friends. Why was this news surprising? Because he was no longer part of this world, she thought. He had turned his back on it, moved on and found his people in Miami. Sure, he was born here, but that was before he changed himself with the UofM and Northwestern degrees, the years living in New York, San Francisco and Miami and the money. What was here for him now?

_____________________________

    After breakfast the next morning, he felt strong enough to walk into town for some fresh air and coffee. As Kimme and he walked, he looked all around and saw many of the things Kimme had seen the night before, but unlike most people, he didn’t regale Kimme with stories from his youth about the crazy times, the near-misses, or the now out-of-character escapades that seeing your hometown would usually spark. He just looked and walked.
    They ordered drinks at The Coffee Mill and sat and Kimme asked, “What do you want to do today?”
    “Well, I arranged for a rental car to be dropped off at our hotel for the day. My doctors don’t let me drive so I’ll have to ask you to do the honors. I’d like to go visit my parents’ graves and drive by the high school. Maybe have lunch at The Saxon if it’s still there. I should probably rest this afternoon before the reunion, too.”
    “Anybody you want to visit before the party, because you know sometimes you don’t get a chance to see everybody or really talk at those things. Maybe Pete Dolan?”
    He suspiciously eyed her and said, “Why do I think that isn’t a random name you pulled out of the air?”
    “I saw him last night when I was taking a walk. He said you had been communicating via Facebook. I was kinda surprised.”
    “He’s an old friend. He used to live two doors down from me and we did a lot together. That’s it,” he said as he raised his left hand palm up.
    “I get that. I was just surprised you were talking to people in Ionia again after all these years.”
    He leaned back, interlaced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, “I guess it was just a way to do something social. It’s been harder at home since I retired.”
    That was probably true, but she knew his Parkinson’s didn’t help, either. “Are there any retiree groups you could join, or friends in the area that you can see?”
    He slowly nodded as he started saying, “You’ll learn Kimme, in about twenty-five years. When you retire, they forget about you. And when you can’t get out to see your friends, they don’t notice you’re missing because they’re busy. They’re just as busy as you aren’t.”
    His voice tailed off as he talked, and she wasn’t sure if that was a symptom of the disease or something else.
    He downed his cup and started to stand, saying, “Enough of that. Let’s go back and get the car. It should be there by now.”
    They spent the morning visiting the sights he wanted to see, and also made a detour to the old fairgrounds. It was the one spot in town where he did share stories. He told her about the time the city offered free health checkups and his parents took him when he was about ten. The nurse had handed him a cup and directed him to the bathroom. He had figured she was thirsty so after he did his business, he got her a cup of water from the faucet and brought it back. When she looked at it, she told him it was the clearest pee she had ever seen. Kimme loved that one and laughed and laughed.
    The Saxon was still open, and they stopped for lunch. Primarily a drive-up and eat in your car kind of place, the building consisted of a roof covering the drive up spots and a small interior with only four tables. The Saxon looked like something out of the 1950’s because it was. Kimme had never seen so much activity packed into such a small place. The waitresses hustled orders from and to the cars. The cooks worked feverishly to keep up, shouting back and forth over the sounds of Elvis And Little Richard. The few patrons inside stood in line, snaking around the interior, leaving a narrow path for the waitresses.
    Her dad boasted the Saxon was a Michigan landmark known for the best chili cheese dogs and cheese fries in the state. As they stood scanning the menu, a man about her dad’s age joined the line right behind them.
    He had the build of someone who worked for a living. He wore a camouflage shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his thick forearms, blue jeans and work boots, with an unkempt gray beard and a VFW cap. His weathered face was expressionless at first, but then Kimme saw his eyes narrow and his lips purse.
    “Is that you?” he said as he looked at her dad.
    Her dad turned around. “Bill. Bill Munson. Yes, it’s me,” he said without a trace of a smile.
    “Well, whatta you know? Jimmy Moore, back to where it all began. Never thought I’d see you here again.” Kimme assumed jealousy of her dad was feeding the obvious sarcasm in his tone.
    Her dad stood straighter to match the man’s height and looked hard into his eyes before answering. “It’s been a long time, Bill.”
    “Yeah it has, it sure has, Jimmy,” he said, firmly locked in a stare with her dad. “Didn’t know if you’d make it back here for the reunion. Heard you got Parkinson’s. Is that true?”
    Not just jealousy, Kimme now saw. This man’s bluntness carried more than that.
    “I’m doing fine,” her dad replied.
    “Not what I asked, but you answered the question. I guess the high and mighty can’t buy their way out of God’s judgment, huh?”
    “Everyone gets judged eventually, Bill.” With that, her dad put his hand on Kimme’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”
    They walked out of The Saxon and got back into the rental car before Kimme asked the obvious, “What was that about?”
    “Bill Munson. We went to school together. When I went off to UofM, he stayed here since he was too stupid to get into any college. I had a girlfriend who was still in Ionia my first year in college. She didn’t like the separation, and she and Bill ended up together.”
    “As in married?”
    He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Not quite. It was more of a one or two night stand thing, enough to break us up and give him bragging rights.”
    “You never got over it? After fifty years?”
    “It’s the first time I’ve seen him since then, Kimme.” His lips barely parted or moved as he spoke.
    She wanted to point out the irony of it, but what was the point? He probably saw what happened then and what he did to her mother as two totally different things.
    “Why’d you come here? This isn’t your life anymore. You haven’t had contact with these people for decades, and the first person you see you have bad history with.”
    “I told you, I’m curious. Wouldn’t you be if you were me?” he said, turning away from her.
    “Most people scratch that itch through social media, and now that I know you’re on Facebook, why isn’t that enough?”
    He didn’t speak for a time, then said, “It’s not enough looking at people on some website. If that’s all I needed, I’d never leave my condo.”
    Needed. The word stuck out to her.
    “I understand, but if it’s curiosity you didn’t need to come here. And you live in a huge city and can go anywhere and do anything you want, see people anytime you want. I don’t get it, Dad,” she said, gripping the steering wheel a little firmer.
    “As you know, I can’t ‘go’ anywhere and ‘do’ anything anymore. Someone made the decision those days are over for me.”
    “Granted, but you’re sixty-eight, too. Isn’t it ok if life slows down and you spend your time doing things with friends people your age do?”
    She watched him bite his lower lip, reminding her who she inherited that habit from. “What is that for someone like me? If it weren’t for this disease I could tell you, but with it, I can’t. People don’t see me as capable of doing things anymore. Sure, they text or once in a while stop by, but it’s obligation, sympathy, whatever. I don’t want it.”
    Kimme looked at him but he didn’t return her glance. “I thought I’d come here and see if there was anything left, anything to build on with people who are different than the sycophants I live with. Different than me. To see if I still have some Ionia in me.”
    She felt her throat tighten. “Why didn’t you tell me you were lonely, Dad?”
    Now he did look at her. “Kimme, we haven’t exactly been on the best terms for the last twenty years, so what would you have done if I had? I know you blame me for everything and I’m not saying you’re wrong. Why would I dump this on you?”
    He was right, of course, but Kimme said, “Ok, then what? You move back to Ionia in hopes these people will be your friends? Because otherwise going to this reunion is a moment in time, like a drink of water for a man in a desert.”
    He laughed at that. “When did you get dramatic? ‘A drink of water for a man in a desert’? I should write that down.”
    “Metaphors aren’t my strong suit. But what do you do after tonight?”
    “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m ready to rest for a while.”
    “What about lunch?” Kimme asked.
    “I’m not hungry. You can drop me off and go get something for yourself.”
    She pulled into the B&B parking lot and he got out of the car. She watched him slowly take the front stairs; one foot up followed by the other to the same step. After he made it through the door, she shut off the engine and sat in the car.

_____________________________

    At five o’clock she texted to ask when he wanted to leave. He didn’t reply for about thirty minutes, then said he was ready and would meet her by the front desk.
    She took the stairs down and saw him checking his phone near the door. He looked good – blue slacks, medium blue striped shirt, black loafers – but not too snazzy. He dressed to fit in with the likely crowd. He looked rested and when he turned to her, she saw a smile on his face.
    “As we say in California, nice threads, Dad.”
    “Thanks, little girl. Ready to go?”
    He moved quicker than before and seemed to be pushing himself to stand taller and speak louder. She understood, now.
    The drive to the reunion was short, and she dropped him at the curb. “Text me when you’re ready for me to pick you up. And remember, young man, make good choices!”
    He laughed. “Thanks mom, I will,” then closed the car door. She saw him approach another man, place a hand on his shoulder and shake his hand and walk into the church together.
    Kimme stopped for dinner at The Saxon and enjoyed a hot dog with the fixings and cheese fries. He was right about them. Back at the B&B, she saw an email from Paul letting her know all was well with her grapes. It was the first time she had thought about the winery since she left. While she was scrolling through Facebook, she heard a knock on her door.
    “Hello, Ms. Moore. Mr. Moore asked me to deliver this to you,” said Kayla, the girl who was working the desk earlier.
    She took the letter and sat on the edge of the bed. She turned the envelope over in her hands and then over again. The stationary was from the B&B. She slid out two handwritten pages:

    “Kimme:
    First, thanks for coming with me to Ionia. I bet you had your hesitations, and I can’t fault you for that. To be honest, I’m not sure why we’re here. Like you said, if this is a great experience it’s one day in my life, not a cure for my situation. But I decided I need to start thinking one day at a time, which is foreign to me. I’ve lived my life with my eyes on the prize, sometimes to the exclusion of all else – time, people, feelings – and I’m sorry it’s taken Parkinson’s to change that.
    I’ve gotten a lot more introspective of late and I don’t always like what I see. I’ve hurt people I love, most importantly your mother and you. We never talked about what happened because you were too young. Then you got older, and I never had the courage to bring it up, knowing how angry and hurt you were.
    I made a huge mistake, Kimme. Your mom did nothing but love me and I took her love for granted. I figured I could have much more in life besides a wife and a kid and a home. I could have excitement and risk and triumph, all the things I had in my work life. I sought it out, and I found it. I ruined my life and hers and yours. OK, there I go being dramatic. After your mother and I divorced, I protected myself from my own judgment by not looking back on what happened. You figured out life and from what I can see, you’re doing great. Susie, I’m not so sure about. She always told me everything was good, but I think she didn’t want me to know when she struggled. When she passed, it hit me hard – her life was less than it should have been, and the biggest reason for that was me.
    Is this some kind of payback for the life I’ve led? I don’t know. I struggle with the concept of trusting in some all-powerful being who will take care of me. I’ve always had more confidence in my own ability to do that. Now I have this disease which is changing me, and I can’t stop it. And I can’t look to God at this point after looking away from him my whole life – I have to believe he’d see right through that. All I care about at this point is to find some way to make things better with my daughter. To let her know how sorry I am about everything. To let her know how much I love her.
    Love, Dad

    There it was. Kimme had been waiting for this for years. Waiting for him to admit his mistake and apologize for what he had done to Mom and to their little family. Now it had happened and all she could think about was her mother.
    Kimme laid back on a pillow. Memories of her mother flooded her mind. Memories of walks, shopping trips and long talks about boys and girls and everything. She had always been there for Kimme. When she was in college and feeling empty, Mom came to hold her, cry and tell her everything would be ok. When her relationship with Sean had fallen apart after he cheated, it was Mom who made her realize Sean the person, not Sean the representative of all men, was to blame.
    She laid there, still, thinking until her phone dinged and she saw his text. Where had the last two hours gone? Where had eleven years gone?
    Kimme drove to the First Presbyterian Church and waited for him to come out. When he appeared, she saw he was trying to be upright and confident. He opened the car door and said, “Hi baby, how long have you been waiting? You should have let me know you were here.”
    She replied with silence, conflict bubbling below the surface. There was his apology and the imminence of his decline on one side. There was her mother and the years of hurt and anger on the other. She was on the narrowest precipice between them.
    His smile faded. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
    She closed her eyes tight and held them there for a second before she said, “Your letter. It’s a lot to absorb, Dad. I need some time to think, ok?”
    “Sure, honey, I understand.”
    When they arrived, Kimme exited the car and went inside without waiting for him, not out of anger but confusion. She opened the minibar in her room and decided the Columbia Crest Chardonnay would be her companion.
    There was no clarity for her this evening. Was she being manipulated by a father who was trying to use his disease to gain sympathy and forgiveness? She remembered the grace her mother exhibited before she died when she told Kimme he was a good man and that she had forgiven him. She also remembered how he had left them to fend for themselves. There were needs coming rapidly in his life. Who would be there for him when they did?

_____________________________

    Sleep evaded her. By 7:00am she showered and packed, two hours before the limo would pick them up for the ride back to Grand Rapids.
    His text was brief: Are you up?
    “Yes,” she replied.
    “Can we talk?”
    She wanted to know where she was with everything before she faced him. “I still need some time.”
     “OK.”
    Kimme strolled the streets without a destination in mind. Her feet led her back to the First Presbyterian Church, where she stood in the same spot she had two days ago, in front of the now out-of-date placard advertising the reunion.
    “We have to stop meeting like this,” someone said. When she turned, she saw the friendly, weathered face of Pete Dolan.
    Kimme gave him a weak smile. He replied with words that many would think but few would say, “You don’t look too good, Kimme.”
    She laughed and shook her head.
    “I hope you weren’t up worrying about Jim. All things considered, he seems to be doing ok.”
    “I know. Like you said, he keeps swinging.”
    “There’s more to it than that, dear. He knows he’s fighting a losing battle but he’ll fight anyway. Right now, I’d say he’s more concerned about making things right with you.”
    Kimme couldn’t return his gaze as she felt the now-familiar welling in her eyes. “It seems a bit late, Pete.”
    “Dear, as long as he’s still around, it’s not too late for him to be sorry and for you to forgive him. He talked to me last night. It would’ve been better if he’d done a lot of things different, but there’s no changing the past. You gotta decide what’s right for you and for him.”
    “I’ve been trying to figure that out for a long time, only now there’s a clock ticking.”
    “Yeah, there is. All I can tell you is last night I saw a good man who made a mistake. The thing he cares about now is knowing his daughter forgives him. You think about that,” he said, touched her arm gently and walked away.
    Kimme took a deep breath. Her mom had said almost exactly the same thing eleven years ago. She hadn’t honored her mom by doing what she had done, forgiving him.
    She stopped for coffee and made her way back to the B&B. The limo was already waiting, so she grabbed her bag and came back downstairs. Her dad gave her a look and a quiet “Good morning” when she came close.
    They walked out to the limo where the driver helped them into the car. A few miles down the road, her dad asked again, “Do you feel like talking?”
    “OK.”
    He started, “Kimme, I apologized and it made things more confused between us, which wasn’t what I was after. Can you help me understand?”
    “Why did it take you getting sick before you came to me? Where was this twenty years ago?”
    “Buried under pride, something I don’t have any more. Or maybe I do, but I care more about other things now. I waited until your mother was dying before I told her I was sorry, and now this has happened before I told you. You’d think I would’ve learned, but I didn’t.
    “Your mom left this for us to work out, Kimme. She wanted us to have each other when she was gone, but she wasn’t going to use her illness to get us to do something we weren’t ready for. She didn’t think forgiveness in a situation like that would stick. I’m not sure, but I failed your mom, and I don’t want to fail her again by not making things right between us. Tell me, please, what can I do?”
    Kimme didn’t know what to say. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her mom had tried to show her the power of grace, and she had learned to grant it to Sean and everyone else, except the most important person left in her life. But if her mom had forgiven him, how could she not? She wrapped her arm through his and whispered, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
    “Me too, little girl. Me too.”
    They were quiet for a time, with silent tears for the years they missed with each other. After those minutes passed, a genuine, loving smile took over Kimme’s face, “Tell me about the reunion.”
    Three weeks later...
    Kimme dialed his number and waited for him to answer. On the fourth ring, he did.
    “Dad, I need a favor.”
    He laughed, a hearty laugh that stayed strong. “Who is this?”
    “I need a favor, Dad. We have our key season for visitors at the winery coming up and we are very short-handed. It would mean a lot to me if you could pour tastes for our guests for a few weeks. They’re from all over the country and are just want a little conversation and some good wine. When Paul mentioned it, I thought you might be interested. Of course, I’ll pay for everything.”
    “I’ll have to check my calendar and get back to you. I’m pretty booked up, but I might be able to make it work.”
    “Who knows, maybe you’ll come out here and love it like I do, and finally leave Saltwater City.”
    He laughed again. “We’ll see, little girl, we’ll see.”

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