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“I may look like him, but I’m not your father,” Joe said to the two children gazing at him as if he were the villain in a horror movie. “My name is Joe Smith.”
“That sounds like a made-up name,” the boy accused.
“It’s not. If you wait just a minute, I’ll go inside and get my wallet. It has my driver’s license in it.”
“It’s probably fake.”
“If you’re not going to accept my license as proof, what will satisfy you?”
The little girl whispered something to her brother, who then turned and said, “Take off your shirt. Or are you chicken?”
Joe almost chuckled at the absurdity of the request. Two kids were accusing him of being their deadbeat dad—and demanding that he remove his shirt to prove it. He decided to humor the kids rather than argue with them. He’d do pretty much anything to show them he wasn’t their father. He pulled the bottom of his T-shirt from his pants and lifted it over his head, leaving him bare chested and the object of their wide-eyed stares.
“It is you!”
Dear Reader,
What is it about fathers?
Alex, the ten-year-old boy in this story, wants one so badly that he goes to great lengths to find his missing dad. That’s because a father holds a very special place in his child’s heart. I know mine does, and it’s been a while since I was ten. My father was my first hero, chasing away the monsters under my bed at night and carrying me on his shoulders to keep my feet from getting stuck in the snow. He taught me how to ride a bike, to drive a car and above all, how a woman should expect to be treated by a man.
I’m no longer a little girl, but I haven’t stopped looking at my father as a hero. He has no medals of honor or commendations for bravery, but he is kind, gentle, honest and dependable. Most important, he’s given his children a great gift. He’s loved their mother for more than sixty years.
Alex’s search for his father leads him to an important discovery. He finds a hero who holds a special place not only in his heart, but in his mother’s, too. I hope you’ll enjoy their story.
Sincerely,
Pamela Bauer
Two Much Alike
Pamela Bauer
For two very special sets of twins:
My dad, Clifford Ronning, and his brother, Clarence and Marilyn and Marlene Muehlbauer, two dear friends who introduced me to my real-life hero, their brother Gerr
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PROLOGUE
“DID YOU GET IT?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy.” Alex Harper unzipped his backpack and pulled out a photograph. “My mom threw out most of his pictures. I found this one in a box in the basement.” He gave the photo to Josh Gallivan, who studied it closely.
“He’s a sailor?”
“He was a sailor. Now he’s a bum.”
Josh glanced at the photograph, then at Alex and then back at the photo again. “He looks normal.”
“He’s not. I’m just glad I don’t look like him. I don’t, do I?” Alex’s tone dared his best friend to disagree.
Again Josh looked from the picture to Alex. “Naw, you don’t look like him at all. He could be a total stranger.”
He was a total stranger as far as Alex was concerned. With each passing birthday, Alex’s memories of his father had dimmed, until now—at the age of ten—his father was simply a face on a piece of paper, a man who smelled like cigars and didn’t like to get his pants wrinkled.
As Josh slipped the photo into the scanner, Alex turned his attention to the monitor, waiting for the image to appear on the screen. He wasn’t nervous, yet his stomach felt funny—the same way it had that time he’d fallen out of the big oak tree in the backyard.
“Here it comes,” Josh said, as the image appeared on the screen in startling clarity. “Okay, we’ve got it. Now all we have to do is cut and paste it to your poster.” Josh moved the mouse with a familiarity Alex envied. Known as the biggest computer geek in the fourth grade, Josh knew more about computers than some adults. Most kids thought it was because his dad was a programmer and Josh had had his very own computer since he was big enough to sit on a chair. Alex, however, knew the real reason. Josh was super smart.
“Done,” he boasted proudly.
Alex gazed at the monitor. At the top of the screen in large letters were the words “Have You Seen This Man?” Occupying the rest of the space was the picture Josh had just scanned. A shiver rippled through Alex.
“What happened to the stuff at the bottom?” he asked.
“It’s there.” Josh scrolled down the page until the message typed in capital letters appeared. Then he read aloud, “His name is Dennis Harper. He’s a deadbeat who deserted his family. If you see him, call me immediately.” He rattled off the digits of Alex’s phone number. “Well?”
“It’s okay…I guess,” Alex said tentatively.
“I think it’d be better if we put your picture on it, too,” Josh suggested. “My mom’s in advertising and she says that if you want to get people’s attention, you should use pictures of kids. You do want people to take a good look at the poster, don’t you?”
Alex thought for a moment. “You really think it would help?”
Josh nodded, then reached across his desk to a cork bulletin board where push pins held half a dozen wallet-size photos in place. He grabbed the one Alex had given him at the start of the school year and placed it in the scanner.
A few moments later, he said, “Now we’ll print.” He hit another key and almost immediately a paper emerged from the printer. He pulled it from the tray and handed it to Alex. “What do you think?”
Alex thought it was weird to see his picture on the same paper as his father’s. A deadbeat dad and a searching son. They weren’t exactly the typical father and son.
Not that Alex cared. He didn’t need a dad and he didn’t care if his ever came back. He just wanted to find him so the judge could make his dad pay what he owed his mom. Then she wouldn’t have to work so much. If she had someone to help pay the bills, she could take some time off to spend with him and his sister and brother this summer. They might even get to take a vacation. And get some new clothes instead of having to wear the stuff his mom found at garage sales. Maybe he could even get his own computer and show the other kids at school that he was just as smart as Josh.
“Well, is it okay or isn’t it?” Josh asked. “You want me to make copies?”
With his father’s face staring at him, Alex found that suddenly he wasn’t sure. For so long he’d wanted to find his dad, yet now that there was a possibility he might just do it, he found the prospect a little scary. What if his mom was right? What if they were better off without Dennis Harper in their lives?
He looked at Josh. “This isn’t a dumb idea, is it?”
“Uh-uh. When Billy Carson’s cat was missing, he found it by printing up posters and putting them all over town. If it’ll work for a cat, why wouldn’t it work for a person?”
Alex realized that Josh thought he was questioning the wisdom of printing the posters, not his attempt to locate his father. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his friend wouldn’t understand why he might have second thoughts. After all, Josh had a father. It was true his parents were divorced, but his dad came every other weekend to pick him up and take him places. He also played catch with Josh and helped coach his little league team. He hadn’t abandoned his kids after the divorce. He wasn’t anything like Dennis Harper.
“Do you want me to print them or not?” Josh asked a bit impatiently, when Alex still hadn’t given him the go-ahead.
Alex hesitated only a moment before saying, “Yeah. It’s about time somebody found that dead-beat.”
CHAPTER ONE
JOE SMITH WAS ON HIS WAY into the hardware store when he heard a voice behind him say, “Someone’s looking for you.”
For a moment Joe felt trapped. It was an instinctive reaction caused by a fear that the identity he’d worked so hard to conceal might be exposed. It didn’t matter that during the two years he’d lived in northern Minnesota, no one had suspected that he was anyone but Joe Smith, a man looking for a quiet life along the shores of Lake Superior. He knew, however, that the past had a way of catching up with a person, especially when that past contained secrets.
Hoping today wasn’t that day, he forced himself to turn around. Standing behind him was the owner of Whispering Pines, a resort on the outskirts of the small town of Grand Marais.
“Hey, Pete. How’s it going?” Joe greeted him with a handshake.
“It’s going good. How about yourself?”
“Can’t complain.” Joe knew he needed to get right to the point. “Did you say someone’s looking for me?”
“Yup. One of the guests at the lodge,” the older man responded. “Says he wants to talk to you about a fly-in.”
The muscles in Joe’s body began to uncoil. He should have known that it would be someone wanting to go fishing, not a snoop asking questions.
“Did you tell him to contact Blue Waters?”
“Sure I did, but I suspect they told him what they tell most tourists about this time of year. If you don’t book ahead, you’re out of luck. And you know how these rich folks are. They think they can get whatever they want by flapping a few extra bills in someone’s face.”
“How big of bills?” Joe asked with a sly smile.
“Big enough to turn my head,” Pete admitted with a chuckle. “Seriously, it could be a nice little side job for you,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “I know you have a loyalty to Blue Waters, but you really should think about being your own boss.”
Joe looked out at Lake Superior and squinted as the sun bounced off the glistening water. “It’s a lot of work running your own business.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” the other man said with an understanding shake of his head. “But you’re a good pilot, Joe. And as for the responsibility and hard work…well, you’re practically running Blue Waters right now.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Pete, but I’m content to leave the problems behind when I go home. Blue Waters has been good to me.”
It was true. Joe had worried that with a new identity he’d have trouble finding work as a pilot. Although he’d logged a considerable number of hours in the air while in the Navy, they were hours he’d been forced to leave behind, along with his name, when he’d moved to Minnesota. Not wanting to risk being traced because of his license, he’d started over, taking flying lessons and passing all the requirements of a new pilot. If anyone at Blue Waters thought it was odd that he appeared to be a much better pilot than his experience indicated, they didn’t comment on it. He was able to work in relative anonymity, without any questions about his past, without any enquiries into his personal life.
It was the way Joe wanted it and the way he needed it to be. It would have been nice to run his own flying service, but it was a risk he couldn’t take. Running a business meant regulations and regulations meant red tape and inspectors. What he couldn’t afford was to leave a paper trail that would allow the wrong people to come looking for him. He’d made a new life for himself, deliberately choosing Smith as a surname because it was common and hard to trace. There was no point in taking a chance that someone would discover that he’d once been somebody else.
“Besides, with my dad’s health being what it is…” He let the sentence trail off, knowing perfectly well the lodge’s owner would deduce that Joe worked for someone else because he needed to take care of his father.
Which wasn’t a lie. A head injury and subsequent stroke had forever changed his father. Joe hadn’t anticipated that the strong, imposing man who had run his home with the same discipline he’d used when commanding his naval troops would ever need to lean on anyone—and especially not his son. The man who had been the epitome of authority now found himself dependent.
“I understand what you’re saying, Joe,” Pete said, his eyes as sympathetic as his tone. “How is the Admiral?”
“He’s doing all right,” he answered honestly.
Pete shook his head. “The brain’s a complicated thing, isn’t it?”
Joe nodded. “It is. He can tell you exactly what he paid for every car he ever purchased, yet he has trouble making change for a dollar.”
“How’s Letty been working out for you?”
Letty was a retired nurse Joe had hired to look after his father whenever he was gone. “She’s been great. She certainly has made my life a lot easier.”
“I knew she would.” Pete nodded toward the hardware store. “You going in or coming out?”
“In. Need to get a washer for a faucet. What about you?”
“I’m on my way to get my ears lowered,” he said, glancing in the direction of the barbershop down the street. “But I’m glad I ran into you. About this fella that’s looking for you…should I tell him to stop by?”
What Joe didn’t want was people coming to his place. His home at the lake was his sanctuary. The fewer people who visited there, the less complicated his life would be. “I’ll tell you what. How about if I give him a call when I get back to the house?” he suggested.
“Good enough.” Pete gave him the man’s name, then bid Joe goodbye, leaving him with a “You take care now.”
Joe certainly would do just that. He’d taken a lot of care from the very first day he’d arrived in northern Minnesota. He’d been careful to mind his own business, careful not to raise anyone’s curiosity about his or his father’s past, and especially careful not to give anyone a reason to believe he was anything but a concerned son who’d brought his ailing father to spend what was left of his life in the peaceful woods near the Canadian border.
No question—Joe would take very good care not to let his past catch up with him.
“I WISH I COULD GO WITH,” ten-year-old Emma said on a sigh as she watched her mother apply mascara to lashes that were already long and lush.
“You wouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Frannie Harper told her daughter.
“Yes, I would. Auntie Lois is so much fun.”
Lois was fun, Frannie thought as memories of their last night out together filtered through her mind. Latin music, salsa dancing, Corona beer, handsome men.
“Sorry, love, this is a night for grown-ups only.”
And there weren’t many of those in her life, Frannie acknowledged as she put aside the mascara and went to the closet. Being a single parent, she’d had little time for anything except work and taking care of her family. Nor did she have the money for going out with the girls—something she was reminded of when she opened her closet door.
She grimaced as she pushed aside hangers holding garments that should have been relegated to the rag bag years ago, but still constituted her wardrobe. She didn’t have a single thing that could be classified as trendy. Practical yes, trendy no. She knew the kind of places her sister frequented, and they were filled with people wearing the latest styles.
She sighed, knowing she really had only one choice: Old Faithful. It was a black sheath with a touch of glitter, a dress she figured she must have worn at least a hundred times. “Timeless” was how the clerk who’d sold it to her had described it. “Boring” was how Frannie had come to look at it. She dragged it from the hanger and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror.
“One hundred and one,” she mumbled to herself as she tugged the dress over her head.
“One hundred and one what, Mommy?” Emma asked.
“Nothing, sweetie. I was wondering if I’ve worn this dress a hundred times yet,” she said as she straightened the hemline.
“I’d wear it a million times if it were mine. It’s so pretty,” Emma said with a childlike sincerity.
Frannie sighed. “It’s old.”
“You said there’s nothing wrong with old,” Emma reminded her.
Frannie smiled.So my words come back to haunt me. “You’re right. Old is comfortable.”
When Frannie spritzed her neck with a cologne Lois had given her for her birthday, Emma said, “You never wear perfume. Are you going looking for men?”
She put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue. “You know better than to even ask that question. I have all the men in my life that I need.”
Emma slipped her feet into Frannie’s high-heel sandals and walked over to the mirror where she pirouetted on wobbly legs. “I’m never getting married.”
As much as Frannie was tempted to say, “Smart girl,” she simply said, “Never is a long time.”
“I know, but I hate boys. They’re stupid. That’s why I’m never getting married,” Emma insisted. “I’m glad you don’t have a boyfriend. They’re too messy.”
Curious, Frannie asked, “Messy how?”
“Ever since Ashley Wilcott’s mom got a boyfriend, their life’s been messed up. They don’t get to dog-sit for the humane society anymore, Ashley can’t eat her dinner on a TV tray and if she leaves even one little sip of milk in her glass he tells her she’s wasting food and makes her do extra chores. Ashley says he’s always at her house butting into their business, too.”
Frannie felt a wave of sympathy for Ashley’s mother. She knew firsthand how difficult it was for a single mom to have any kind of personal life. When Lois had finally convinced Frannie she should start dating again, it hadn’t taken long for her to realize that whether or not the kids were with her physically, they were always with her emotionally. And the few men she had brought home had been put through an inquisition no human should have to endure. Frannie had decided a long time ago that life was complicated enough without adding romance to the picture.
Just then the doorbell rang, and Emma kicked off the shoes and exclaimed in delight, “Auntie Lois is here!”
“Tell her I’m not quite ready, but I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
As Frannie ran a brush through her blond hair, she could hear the commotion her sister’s presence generated. It had always been that way. Her kids hovered around their aunt like bees around a flower.
By the time Frannie went into the living room, however, the bees and the flower were nowhere in sight. She poked her head inside the boys’ room and, as she’d expected, saw her children gathered around Lois. She held a bright yellow piece of paper in her hands that Alex snatched away when he noticed his mother.
Normally Frannie would have asked what it was they’d been looking at, but her sister’s appearance had her mouth agape. Lois’s short hair, which normally fell in soft blond layers, was the color of a red pepper, sticking straight out from her head like porcupine quills. She had on black leather pants, a matching leather bandeau top that revealed more of her midsection than it covered and platform shoes that added three inches to her already tall figure. More than trendy, Frannie thought.
“Like my new look?” she asked Frannie with a crooked grin.
“If you open your mouth and I see metal, I’m not going anywhere with you,” Frannie warned.
Lois grinned, then stuck out her tongue. There were no rings of any sort piercing it. “You know I hate pain. The hair’s cool, isn’t it?” she asked, then stuck out her hands. “Look. My nails are the exact same color as my hair.”
“They are!” Emma exclaimed. “Cool!” She examined her aunt’s long, slender fingers carefully.
“Is it permanent?” Frannie asked, nodding toward her sister’s red head.
“Heavens, no. It washes out. I have to be in court tomorrow morning.”
“Is it a murder case?” Alex asked, his eyes widening.
“No, just someone who needs help,” Lois answered.
“I’m going to be a lawyer and help people when I grow up, too,” Emma said, gazing at her aunt with adoration.
“Me, too,” said three-year-old Luke, who often repeated everything his older sister said.
Lois ruffled her nephew’s hair affectionately. “I thought you were going to be a cowboy.”
“I think he’s going to be a demolition man. He destroys everything,” Alex said dryly.
“He’s not that bad,” Emma chastised her twin.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the baby-sitter.
After going over a list of instructions with the teenager, Frannie gave each of her kids a kiss and hug, then headed out the front door with her sister.
“Is that for us?” Frannie asked when she saw a taxi at the curb.
“Yes. I figured you wouldn’t want to take your car, and you know how much I hate driving downtown. Besides, someone wanted to do me a favor,” she said as she ushered her sister toward the cab.
“And this is the favor? A chauffeur?” she asked, as a thickset man hopped out of the taxi to get the door for them.
“Yes. This is Lenny.” She tossed a smile at the man who fussed over them as if they were celebrities.
Lenny, Frannie discovered, was the brother of a woman Lois had counseled through a domestic crisis. Relieved that the man who’d made life so miserable for his sister had been put behind bars, Lenny had insisted on showing his appreciation by giving Lois free taxi service on his night off.
“It will be nice not to have to worry about traffic and parking,” Frannie said as she settled into the back seat.
“Yes, it will,” Lois agreed. As soon as the taxi had pulled away from the curb, she said, “You didn’t tell me that Alex is trying to find Dennis.”
Frannie sighed. “You know how he feels about money. He thinks we don’t have enough and that getting Dennis’s child support payments would make our lives much easier.”
“It would,” Lois said candidly. “That’s why you were looking for him, too. Remember?”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t remind me.”
“Frannie, he should pay. He’s their father.”
“At one time I felt that way, but not now. I don’t want his money and I certainly don’t want him back in our lives.” She hated the bitterness that always managed to creep into her voice at the mention of her ex.
“Well, Alex does, and he’s printed up a couple of hundred posters with Dennis’s picture on them. He’s going to put them all over town.”
A knot formed in Frannie’s stomach.
When she was silent, Lois asked, “You do know about the posters, don’t you?”
“I knew he was thinking about doing them. We talked about it a couple of weeks ago, but I thought I’d convinced him it wouldn’t accomplish anything.” Unsure if she needed to persuade her sister, she added, “It won’t, you know.”
To her relief, Lois said, “I didn’t say it would. If he hasn’t been found by now, I doubt anyone’s going to locate him. We know Dennis Harper’s not in the Twin Cities and chances of him being anywhere in the Midwest are next to none.”
“Which means it’s just a waste of time,” Frannie concluded.
“Not to Alex it isn’t.” She shot her sister a sideways glance. “That’s what’s really bugging you, isn’t it? The fact that Alex still thinks about his father.”
“Of course it bothers me,” Frannie admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it. “My kids have spent more time with their dentist than they have with their own father. Dennis was never a dad to them, just a man who drifted in and out of their lives when it was convenient for him. He doesn’t deserve to have any of their thoughts and he certainly isn’t worthy of a son like Alex. Believe me, if I had it in my power to make Alex forget Dennis ever existed, I would do it in a minute.”