Missing Part III

Philomena talked with her boys and they decided they would take time off school to go with her. They wanted to know too what might have happened to their father, even if this man wasn’t him. They left their dog with Rosalind, loaded the Focus with luggage and snacks and headed north to Ashland, Wisconsin.

“Mom, how did dad get all the way there from home? It isn’t even on Lake Michigan,” her son asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe he washed up somewhere and didn’t know who he was. He could have hitched his way there. Is that logical? Or am I just grasping at straws?” she asked.

“I think that sounds as logical as him missing for ten years and suddenly turning up. I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” the other twin chimed in. “I hope it’s dad,” he said, tearing up. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Damn it! I’m too old for this.”

Philomena reached over and touched the top of his head gently. “No, you’re not too old. I think Detective Corcoran nailed it right on the head the other day. We have no closure. We don’t know what happened so we can’t move on and we can’t put him to rest because he might be alive and well somewhere. We need answers. You need to know where your father has been all these years.”

He smiled weakly at his mother and looked back at his brother in the back seat. They were taking turns riding ‘shotgun’ with mom and Gary had to sit in back first. He noticed Jerry wasn’t in much better shape than he was. 

Philomena looked at her son in the rearview mirror. “Hey, guys, this is an adventure until it’s not. Why don’t we wait and see how it all shakes out? Jerry, can you dig out a Coke from the cooler for me, please?”

The next morning they completed the trip and pulled up in front of the Human Services Offices in Ashland. The man knew to expect them and he was waiting when they got there.

“How are you?” he asked. “I imagine you’re pretty tired after that trip. My name is Ed.”

“Yes, sir, but mostly we’re just curious. We really need to see this man. Would you give us directions to the shelter?”

“Of course, but I’d rather drive you there myself. If you don’t mind, that is,” he said. “If it’s him you may be too emotional to drive; same thing if it isn’t.”

“I see your point,” Philomena said. “Sure, that would be fine.” 

 

Philomena wrung her hands all the way to the shelter. She and her sons sat in the back seat, she between the two of them. The boys looked nervously out the windows pretending to take in the scenic city. Philomena barely noticed Lake Superior with all its ships and yachts and sail boats in full sail, or the rock walls jutting out into the water and the coal fired power plant with barges of coal unloading their cargo nearby. They pulled to a stop at a large building with a line reaching the outside of the building to a door in an alley that ran downhill. 

“That’s the line for the soup kitchen in the basement,” the social worker told them as they skittered around the line of people to the front door and up a short set of concrete stairs.  

Philomena took a deep breath and then passed through the office door. The social worker introduced them and they shook hands all around. Philomena pulled out an old picture of Terrance and showed it to the director.

“This is old of course,” she said. “I imagine if he’s followed suite with the other men in his family, he has white hair by now. This is about ten years old,” she added. 

A young woman about thirty years old took the faded Polaroid shot of Terrance and his boys playing baseball. She studied it for a full minute and then handed it back nodding. “I think this is the man who calls himself Terry. He’s been around here for awhile.”

Philomena’s heart raced and she smiled at her boys. “I think we found Dad,” she said.

“Where’s my dad?” Jerry asked

.

“Unfortunately, he got sick. He’s in the hospital,” she answered.

“What? What’s wrong with him?”Jerry asked. He grabbed hold of his brother’s arm for support and he returned the gesture.

“He’s got pneumonia I believe. He’s been living out of doors and with the recent cold snap, well, he just couldn’t take it. He’s had a lot of close calls over the years.”

 

A tear escaped Philomena’s eye and she wiped it away. “Where is the hospital?”

The family loaded back into the county vehicle and the worker took them to the hospital. 

“Oh, I just realized I don’t know what name he’s using. I mean, I know he’s using Terry, but what last name?” Philomena looked down and sniffed a few times.

Gary stepped up to the information desk. “Excuse me, ma’am. We’re looking for someone – we’ve actually been looking for him for ten years. His name is Terry and I understand he was brought in with pneumonia from the homeless shelter.”

The woman looked up at the twins and their mother sympathetically. “I’m sorry son; I can’t give out patient information. If you don’t have a last name, I can’t tell you where to find him anyway.”

The social worker stepped up. “Alice, it’s their father. He may be using an assumed name.”

She straightened up a little in her chair and patted at a loose strand of hair, pushing it back into place. “Edward, I didn’t see you back there. Is this an official visit?” she added. 

“Well, I guess it is. Terry has been around here for a long time and if this is his family, they’d like to take him home to Michigan,” he answered.  

“I understand.” She tapped on a few keys on her computer keyboard. “We have someone from the shelter named Terry. He says his last name is Cantor.