Uncle Sarge

Most of Checkmate’s work was doing background checks for Okaloosa County businesses. She seldom saw the people she researched. She seldom reached out and touched the people whose lives she explored. It would be wonderful to experience something good and positive.

“Shouldn’t we be turning now?”

Jennifer snapped out of her thoughts and ran a finger along the course she’d marked. “About two blocks. Then turn left.”

The neighborhood was a relatively new one comprised of small houses, with small mortgages, for couples just starting out. Most of the yards were well tended, and most had one car in the carport and one in the drive. She and Duke had once lived in a neighborhood like this together. She sighed. Now, she lived there alone.

Finally, they came to the street. “Right turn,” Jennifer said with less than full confidence.

Rich turned, and Jennifer began scanning for house numbers. “I think we’re headed in the right direction,” she said. “It should be right around this curve.”

It was.

Rich pulled up to the curb and parked. He exhaled slowly as he assessed the appearance of the small, yellow bungalow. Sherry had always loved the color yellow, but she never would have let the lawn go so long without mowing.

He knew that from the way she’d loved to do the yard work when they were in foster care together. She’d always said she wanted to have a little yellow house with a white picket fence and lots of yard to putter in. There was no fence, but two out of three was pretty good.

The lawn looked as if it hadn’t been mowed in several weeks, and children’s toys were scattered throughout the tall grass. There was a very old minivan in the carport, but the second car, if there was one, was gone. A pile of newspapers filled the seat of a lawn chair on the tiny front porch. Though it was too early in the evening for lights to be on, the house looked dark and forlorn.

“Do you suppose they’ve gone on vacation?” Jennifer echoed exactly what Rich had been thinking.

He nodded. “You’d think they’d’ve canceled the paper, though.”

“Let me check the mailbox,” Jennifer said, pushing open the door. She came back in a minute. “Nothing there. Maybe, one of the neighbors is picking up their mail. But, if they were going on a trip, wouldn’t they put away their kids’ toys first?” she mused.

“Beats me,” Rich said. “Now what?”

“We talk to the neighbors. We’ve come this far, we might as well see what they know.”

The house to the right was as dark as Sherry’s with no cars filling the carport or the drive. But the one on the other side seemed cheery and open, and cooking smells wafted from that direction. “Guess we start with that one.”

Rich drew a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Here goes nothing.” He rang the doorbell.

A plump, middle-aged lady appeared, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “May I help you?” Her expression was pleasant, but cautious, as she pushed open the storm door a crack.

Rich cleared his throat, struggling to dislodge the industrial-size lump, as Jennifer stepped forward and smiled reassuringly.

“My name is Rich Larsen. I’m looking for my sister, Sherry. I haven’t seen her in several years, but I think she lives next door.”

“Oh, Mr. Larsen. It’s so good that you’ve come,” the lady dithered. “I’m just so sorry you couldn’t have come sooner.” She pushed her screen door open and beckoned them in. “It’s too bad you couldn’t have come before…” Her voice trailed off, then she sighed. “It’s so sad.”

Chapter Two

She might as well have walloped him with a rifle butt. Rich staggered backward. Before what? No, he couldn’t have finally found her only to have…

Jennifer took charge. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. What’s happened?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The woman paled. “I am so sorry. I could have softened the blow some.”

“What blow? Please. Tell me what’s happened to my sister.”

“It was terrible, just terrible,” the lady said, wringing her hands. “They had gone out to celebrate their anniversary. Five years, I think it was. They didn’t go out much. They were just starting out and their budget was stretched to the limit. I used to sit with the little ones so they could take in a bargain matinee from time to time.”

“Please, Ma’am. My sister?” Rich didn’t like the way she kept referring to the past.

“It was a terrible accident. It was raining really hard and they skidded right into oncoming traffic. Mike was killed. Sherry’s in the hospital. Broke her neck. They tell me it’s going to be a long road before she’s back on her feet.”

Jennifer squeezed his hand, then released it. “Thank you, Mrs…. Can you tell us which hospital?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m June Benton. She’s in Baptist Hospital. I think she’s supposed to be transferred to a rehab facility soon.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel she was still holding. “Sherry often spoke of her big brother. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have you visit. It’ll help having family around at a time like this.”

Rich had heard everything, but he wasn’t sure he’d absorbed the content of what Mrs. Benton had said. He had still been thinking of the fifteen-year-old he’d last seen, and in one afternoon he’d learned she’d married, borne children and been widowed. Not to mention the injury from the accident. This was not the happy reunion he’d hoped for.

“Thank you, Mrs. Benton. We’re sorry to have bothered you.” Jennifer turned to Rich. “Come on, we’ll go to the hospital. At least, you can see her.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They started for the door, then Jennifer turned back. “Do you know what’s happened to the children?”

Kids. He hadn’t even thought about that. Sherry had kids. Who was taking care of them?

“Sherry’s friend, Rebecca, took them home with her.” Mrs. Benton looked inside. “I have a phone number for her somewhere.”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Benton. We have to hurry to reach the hospital before visiting hours are over. I can get that number later.” Jennifer was certain Rich would want to know once the shock wore off, but right now, it was better to let him see Sherry than find the location of the children he didn’t know. She took a business card from her purse and handed it to Mrs. Benton. “When you find it, call me. You can leave a message on my voice mail if I’m not there.”

Mrs. Benton took the card and studied it, then nodded.

“Thank you, again, for being so helpful.”

Rich had begun to show the classic signs of shock, so Jennifer took him by the arm and urged him through the door.

She steered him toward the passenger side of the truck and waited for him to protest, but Rich barely murmured a word as she climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted it to accommodate her smaller frame. “I need the key.”

Rich dug it out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“There’s some cola left in the cup holder. I think if you drink some, you’ll feel better.” She wasn’t sure it would help, but Rich needed to do something, or when they did reach the hospital, they’d be visiting the emergency room and not his sister.

He did as she suggested. Jennifer checked the map for the location of the hospital, then turned the key.

Rich just stared out the window.

He’d probably been assuming that Sherry was living a fairy-tale life, and that presumption had just been tossed into the garbage. He might be in shock tonight, but when he had time to assimilate everything, he’d have questions, doubts. But for now, she knew he just needed to see his sister.

THE LARGE, suburban hospital came into view. Rich’s heart began to race, and his breath rushed to catch up with it. It might not have been the same hospital, but it was the same feeling all over again.

Rich tried to push away the memory of his mother’s last days, tried to forget those tumultuous, confusing weeks when he and Sherry had had nowhere to go, no one to turn to before the state put them into foster care. His father had died in the veterans’ hospital several years before from the aftereffects of his tour in Vietnam and alcoholism. The ten years Rich had spent in the air force might as well not have happened the way one look at that large hospital brought it all back.

Hospitals scared the bejesus out of him.