The Good Thing
Lynn drove up in a 20 year old rusted green Toyota. Wilson and Marti were on hands and knees planting flowers. They both turned like grazing cattle to see who drove up.
“If you drive over to Columbus I have a dealership that has at least 300 cars,” Wilson said. “Pick one out and drive it away.”
“What,” Lynn said. “I love my little Toyota.”
“Every father looks forward to the day he can buy a car for his daughter,” Wilson said.
“Will ya help me pick it out?” Lynn said.
“I’m giving you 300 hundred to choose from,” Wilson said standing up and giving Marti a hand.
“Anything but green,” Lynn said
They greeted each other with a hug.
“You work today?” Wilson said.
“Yeah,” Lynn said, “at the bar. Do I smell like it?”
“Yeah,” Marti said.
“Well you smell like you’ve been up to your elbows in manure,” Lynn said.
“If it’s okay can I take a shower?” Wilson said to Marti.
“It’s more than okay,” Marti said. “It’s required and hurry up. I need one too.”
Wilson related to Marti and Lynn the events of the last month from the supper table to sitting in the living room.
“It is sad story,” Lynn said.
“Not really,” Wilson said. “I’ve met your Mom again. It has brought back to mind some good memories. I’m glad to have them. I’m glad I have a daughter like you.”
“But your other daughter will be a doctor,” Lynn said. “How could I match that. Not so; sometimes you sense things are missing in your life. On one level it was your mother. It was in my mind someplace. There are other things yet to be revealed as if never seen and behind a curtain. You just know there is more and don’t know what it is. For me it was you. Now that I’ve met you I never want you out of my life.”
“I feel the same,” Lynn said.
“It’s not such a sad story after all, is it?” Marti said.
“No,” Wilson said.
“What next?” Lynn said.
“There is something pending and strange in Atlanta,” Wilson said. “I have to settle in somehow. After that there is one more thing that I must do and that is to find out the mystery behind this medallion. I’ve had it all my life.” Wilson removed it and handed it to Lynn.
Lynn examined it. “A B C,” she said, “and “47, 03, dash, 55, 10, 30. What does it mean.”
“An investigator, Willard, I told you about, thinks it is the coordinates on a map,” Wilson said.
Lynn handed it to Marti and she examined it also. “This is it. This will tell you who you are. For what other reason would you be wearing it. Who puts that around a child’s neck except a parent who loves them.”
“I hope so,” Wilson said. “I want to find out where I’m from.”
“Have you searched for the coordinates yet?” Lynn said.
“No,” Wilson said. “Until Marti said what she said I was afraid it was an orphanage, a prison or mental institution.”
“I think you know,” Marti said. “I think you’ve known all along. Everything else you have told me about your life you have forgotten, but this, I think you know.”
Wilson’s breath seemed to fade. He sunk back in his chair and swallowed hard. His right hand began to tremble.
“What is it?” Marti said moving closer and resting her hand on his trembling hand.
Lynn rushed and sat on the floor next to Wilson. “Tell us if you can.”