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Having left the Nevada desert two days ago, I was floored when I got the call that my father was in the hospital. For one, I didn’t even know who my father was, and two, did I really care to?
I decided to drive, instead of taking the first flight out, simply because it gave me the chance to change my mind and go back home to where things were familiar. Never one for change, this was a definite big step for me, and as soon as I crossedinto Canada, I knew there was no turning back.
The first call that I had received was from Rory Hennessy, and I ended that by telling him to go fuck himself.
Not more than a second later, my phone rang again. This time it was a woman; Wren was her name, and she apologized for the prick’s outburst. She said his name was Rory Hennessy. That wasn’t a name I would forget, considering it was an alcoholic drink. My field of expertise.
She proceeded to tell me that my name and number had been found in her father-in-law’s safe while they were searching through some documents.
I could hear the shuffling sound of papers over the wire as she said,“It appears to be that you’re Tomas MacGallan’s daughter. I’m sorry, we weren’t aware that he had any other children. Or at least that’s what this says. Is your mother’s name Dahlia?”
Tears stung my eyes, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, her passing still fresh. “Was. She passed away a month ago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. I know how that feels.”
I got the feeling that she was genuine.
“It’s fine. Do you mind telling me what this is all about?”
“Certainly. Tomas seemed to think it was a good idea to… go riding on one of the heifers in the pasture… wearing only a bathrobe on my wedding night of all nights. He had a bit too much rum you see.”
I burst out laughing as the visual played in my head, and Wren cleared her throat.
I had to bite my lip to stop my laughter. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s fine. I can see why you would think it was funny, it would be. However, the cow had other ideas and took off like a bat out of hell. Tomas went flying over her rump and hit his head. He’s currently in the hospital with a bad concussion, which isn’t good considering he’s in his late 70’s and has Dementia.”
That sobered me up quickly. My mother had passed away from Alzheimer’s. “Dementia? He won’t even remember that I exist.”
“Possibly, there is a stack of photos here as well. It looks like your mother kept in touch with him over the years. He’s in the early stages of it and does still remember who people are. Well at least he did before the accident. Declan thinks you should come.”
“Who is Declan?”
“Your half brother, my husband.” She hurried on to say, “If you need money, we can wire it to you.”
Half brother? My mother never told me I had a half brother. I didn’t need their money, nor did I wantit. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
The conversation ended at that, and I had no intention of going. That was until I shared it with my friend, Derek. He insisted he would take care of the roadhouse while I went to meet this newfound family of mine and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not even after I told him what my mother had said to me.Never go meet your father, he’s not a nice man.
As much as I loved my mother, I had a yearning to meet him and my brother. I called Wren, who sounded like someone I would like, and told her I would attempt to make it.
So here I am, traveling down the highway in my mother’s beat up old Chevy Blazer, that she so fondly called Nellie, to the greater Toronto area, and my GPS is telling me to get off the highway. I merge into the exit lane and follow the directions until I’m heading away from the city.
Twenty minutes later, it tells me I have arrived at my destination. I stop in the middle of the two-lane road and look around. There is nothing here but a dirt road to my left.
Cranking the wheel, I start down it. The only thing that I can see is hydro poles and a field on either side, but no houses as far as the eye can see. At this point, I’m thinking my GPS led me astray, and I’m about to pull over to call Wren, when I approach a forested area.
My curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I continue through the tunnel of trees. Coming from the desert, the lush greenery all around has me in awe as I follow the curve in the road. I decided that once I got out of the trees, I would call Wren. But a small building up ahead, set beside the road, and the iron gate across my path, stops me from going further.
A short man steps out as I pull to a stop and walks up to my car. He taps on my window, and I lower it.
“Katrina George?” He says my name.
Confused, I nod. “Is this the MacGallan place?”
“It is. My name is Radley, nice to meet you, Katrina.”
“Please, call me Kat. No one calls me Katrina and gets away with it,” I say with a grin.
