The Lost and Found

The Lost and Found

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Jami Ober Gan

Copyright © 2019 Jami Ober Gan

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

Cover illustration by Julie Stein / jsszerina@gmail.com

Cover and interior format by Debora Lewis / deboraklewis@yahoo.com

Dedication

For my three greatest masterpieces. For Maddison, my daughter and, Noah and Max, my sons. You inspire me and you teach me, every day. I am a very blessed mama.

And grateful, every single day, that you are mine.

For my Immah, who shared with me her tulips and windmills. And so much more.

And for my Abbah, who flew to Phoenix to talk to my baby brother before his first vacation.

And so much more. You were such big people.

So big that all who knew you were better for it.

There is much of you in these pages. I miss you.

Acknowledgments and Gratitude

To my early proofers: Susie H., Gail O., Eddie O., Gail G. and Scott G. I would like to thank you for your critiques and suggestions. I truly appreciate the encouragement, the support and the honesty.

To Dorian Rolston, my creative writing editor. You were a cheerleader, a challenger and an intuitive editor who has great ability to see the words through the lens of the writer. Your creative guidance helped my story grow up. Thank you for helping me to stick the landing. I am so grateful that we met. Truly.

To Nancy Ozeri, my friend and final line proof editor. You are my comma queen, grammar guard and catcher of many oopse’s. Thank you.

To Lauren Grossman, a fellow author, who kindly advised and shared what she knew to help me get to the last part of my birthing book journey. And for sharing Debora Lewis with me.

To Julie Stein, who designed my cover. I am honored that my book gets to wear one of your creations.

To Debora Lewis, who put my pieces together to look like a book. Finally! So you get two thank you’s.

To Marty Johnston, for more than you will ever know.

I want to thank Dr. Sereta Robinson, Ph. D., who so graciously shared her time, her vast knowledge of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and her enthusiasm for my project. You helped me stay true to my story AND this disorder. Something that was important to me from the start.

And thank you (always), Susie Hallowell, for pointing me in Dr. Robinson’s direction. And more importantly, for being my very own Lost and Found.

The mention of specific songs, places or events are all made as a loving fan and I thank those who helped make them possible. Some characters and events in my story were inspired by different things or people that happened to me. And some were inspired from dreaming. The rest are from somewhere in between.

P.S. Noah, come out and (word) play. You are a much greater writer than I am.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Part I: Lost

Goodbye

On the Road... and Then Not So Much

Part II: Found

Day 1: Jade, Meet the Lost and Found. Lost and Found, Meet Jade.

Day 2: Note to Self... You’re Not 13!

Day 3: Birdland

Day 4: Roadrunners, Dirty Sunsets and Corned Beef... Oh My!

Day 5: Perfection Doesn’t Teach You What Mistakes Can. ~Nonnie

Day 6: P-ball and Scorpions. Yeah, You Read That Right!

Day 7: The Art of Root Beer Floats

Day 8: Broken Crayons Still Color

Day 9: Feeling Good to Be Lost in the Right Direction.

Day 10: To Karaoke or Not to Karaoke? That is the Question.

Day 11: Five More Minutes

Day 12: DID and Other Stuff

Day 13: Side Effects May Include... a Sore @ss.

Day 14: Angry Nonnie... Just kidding!

Days 15-16: Because Sometimes You Just Have toHave Some Mango Slices.

Day 17: Seeds Need Room to Grow. Kind of Like the Rest of Us.

Days 18-20: Lessons From an 8-Year-Old

Day 21: Swinging

Day 22: Struggling to Get Past Sixies

Day 23: Back to Where it All Started.

Day 24: La Noche de las Margaritas y Sticky Floors

Day 25: Hang Overs, Wedding Vows and Hally Berry

Days 26-27: Laying Bricks 101

Day 28: A duck with an arrow in its wing, homemade ice cream sandwiches and javelina. Or, as I call it... Wednesday!

Day 29: eegee’s. If You Live in Tucson, You Know What I'm Sayin'.

Day 30: Operation Guthrie

Day 31: The Most Touching Moment I Have Ever Witnessed.

Day 32: I think It Was Buddha who Said that the Problem Is That We All Think We Have Time.

Day 33: We only get one life. But if we do it right, then one is enough.

Day 34: Poppie always said...

Day 35: Different Shades of Blue

Day 36: The Blues, continued.

Day 37: At Last

Day 38: A Day with the Dynamic Duo

Day 39: A Wonderfully Ordinary Day... Which is Weird!

Day 40: She Took a Deep Breath and Just Let Go.

Day 41: Topic Tuesday. For Poppie.

Day 42: Mt. Lemmon... Another One of Tucson’s Perks.

Day 43: Packed. Loaded. Ready.

Day 44: You Can See a Troubled Soul, Especially When it’s Big.

Day 45: Sunshine with a Side of Ladybugs

Day 46: Jacks, Ozzie and Doodles

Day 47: You’re welcome and thank you back.

Days 48-49: Falling back into life.

Days 50-51: Bittersweet: bittersweet |ˈbitərˌswēt| adjective

Day 52: The Wait is Over

Days 53-56: We are all unfinished.

Epilogue

About the Author

THE LOST AND FOUND

Prologue

I didn’t want tomorrow to come. Thank God the sun didn’t need my permission to rise. I never would have given it. I didn’t want to tell him I was leaving. But, even more, I didn’t want to stay. Dean was lying. I had no proof or confession; only denials. But I was as sure he was lying, as I was the sun would rise. He would be returning and I would be leaving. He’d been away on business for almost a week. I had spent much of that time sitting, numb and pained at the same time. I relived events and conversations, arguments and promises made and broken. And, occasionally, I found lucid moments that pushed me forward. It was during one of these times that I decided that I didn’t want this life. It was time to stop.

It was strange, I thought, that my first reaction when I first truly knew, was relief that I hadn’t planned more for the wedding. We had been together for almost five years. It was only in the last year that we got engaged, but we hadn’t really finalized anything, other than to decide on a fall wedding. While I thought about it, I went and got my pen and a notebook. I grabbed them and climbed back into bed, where I had spent most of the last three days. Writing had always been my therapy. When I was sad, I opened my heart and put it on paper. Tear stained collections to revisit later. When I felt anger, I screamed at the pages and they held my rage. And when I was happy, I thanked with my pen. Words to remind me when I forgot to be grateful. I had notebooks full of beginnings, middles and ends of poems, songs and tales.

I got out my journal. I stared at it for a few minutes, not sure what to do. I opened it and looked at the page waiting for me. After a few more minutes, with a purpose I did not know I had, I began:

I don’t want to write about Dean tonight. I want to not write about him. And since I have nothing else inside me, I will write about writing. I’ve never said it out loud but, for too long, I felt like I had a story inside of me. What’s strange is that I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel this way. But I never knew what to do with it. I still don’t. I don’t know if I can string my words together well enough to grab anyone. I don’t know if I can decorate my thoughts enough to lure anyone in. But, I know enough to understand that the words that first greet the reader are some of the most important. They must give the reader a desire to turn the page to see what is on the other side. Unfortunately, that’s all I know... about writing, that is.

Part I: Lost

Goodbye

Jesse greeted me as I approached the table where he was waiting. He came in for a big oversized hug. Sometimes it even surprises me that we’re twins. He’s tall and solid with brown wavy hair and deep green eyes. I’m petite, a bit thin, with wavy long brown hair and brown eyes. His arms enveloped me and held me slightly longer than his usual bear hugs. I think this hug was telling me he was sorry that I was going through this. And that he was there for me. And that Dean was a prick. That’s what twins did. They possessed unconditional love, solidarity and the ability to know what the other was thinking.

My mother was gone. Again. She was somewhere other than home, which was usually the case since our father died almost 20 years ago. Phone calls or, more often, voice messages were our preferred mode of communication. My mother never quite comprehended our thorny relationship. A voice message letting her know my plans worked well for me.

Jesse and I sat down and fell into twin mode. It was comfortable and easy. I was leaving the next day and I wanted to see him before I left. I didn’t really have a plan other than to be away from here. Jesse just accepted this and trusted me. My mother wouldn’t have.

Because he is four minutes older, Jesse is my self-declared protector, my best friend and my confidant. He is so much better at handling things than I am. He is pragmatic. I, according to my mother, am problematic. He jumps in. I watch from the side. He got the calm. I got the chaos. We are very different. Jesse has a much better relationship with our mother. It was always that way. I never blamed Jesse. I did blame my mother. As far back as I can remember, she’d always been supportive and attentive to Jesse, while absent and impatient with me. And while we both see this, neither of us understands why. So he acts as my buffer and I love him even more for it.

I had broken off my engagement with Dean. Feeling broken felt unbearable. It hurt so big, but I was sure it was right. He protested at first, but when he saw my resolve, he confirmed what I already knew. It was over. Somewhere between my 50th and 60th hour of soul searching, I realized I needed to get away. Having no man was preferable to having this one. An old college friend, Deb, had called recently and reminded me that I had an open invitation to visit her in New Mexico.

You want a drink? Jesse interrupted my wandering mind.

Sure.

Jesse grabbed the waiter and ordered drinks. We sat for hours, drinking and eating, and going backwards, doing the remember when...? thing. We began with one memory and it triggered another. And it led us far from where we began. Our favorite cartoons and summer camps. School pranks and museum mishaps. Favorite movies from childhood through last week. And the day we went off to different colleges. Maybe playing Memory Lane was his plan. It was a small distraction from Dean. And it made me happy for a little bit. Our memories mostly were about the two of us. Not our parents. It was as if they visited some of our memories. But most were just Jesse and me. We were almost all we had for family. I would miss Jesse.

It was time to say goodnight. And goodbye.

You know I don’t like goodbyes, I reminded him.

I know. That’s why I’ll just tell you that I’ll see you later. He walked me to my car and gave me another big bear hug, reminded me of brotherly things and that he loved me. I told him I loved him back, pulled away and got in my car before I got teary. I drove away, already missing him.

On the Road... and Then Not So Much

The bad thing about bad things is that they have the power to spillover, so the damage, really, is immeasurable. A broken heart does that. Lies do that too. Especially the kind that make you feel like a fool and scare the trust out of you. This seemed like Dean’s favorite kind of lie. Whatever distraction I found only served as a tether to the grief. Fortunately, the pain was so big that I was becoming numb. Unfortunately, it was so big that I knew that it was going wherever I was. So I packed my car, pointed it east and drove. I didn’t plan out the trip. I had a reservation in Arizona, at a quaint inn for the night. Tomorrow I would plan the next leg.

The drive was a long one, but it went fast. When your mind can’t stop thinking, an hour goes by like a minute and before you know it, you have 500 miles behind you.

"Long ago, and so far away. I fell in love with you..." I punched the radio off.

Is every song on the radio about this crap? I screamed. Song after song was filled with love and happiness. I never realized how many there were. I sulked for a minute before noticing the flashing lights.

God damn it! I hissed, slowly pulling off the road.

Do you know why I stopped you? the officer asked through the open window. On any other day, my heart would have skipped a beat. Looking through the window was a Greek god in a patrolman’s uniform. But today I hated men.

No, sir.

Well, you were going a little fast. Exhaustion swept over me.

I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I was going so fast.

Something on your mind distracting you? He seemed to actually want an answer. What to say? Do I start with the way Dean used to look at me a certain way before stroking my cheek? Or how we had planned a future? Or how he betrayed my trust?

And so it came. I didn’t plan it, but it came anyway. Tears and sobs. The officer stepped back for a second, genuinely surprised, and then came in a bit closer.

You OK, miss?

No, I almost yelled. I’m not. He looked like he was sorry he had asked. My fiancé cheated on me, I cried, and I don’t know how this happened and... I stopped to blow my nose while the tears kept falling. He waited for me to finish my defense.

Listen, my divorce just became final a couple months ago. I kind of understand. I’m just going to give you a warning. But you have to slow down. You don’t want this guy doing more damage than he already has. OK?

Yes, sir. Thank you. The Greek god walked back to his car and I rolled up the window, cried some more, blew my nose and then pulled back on to the highway. I took a deep breath and punched the radio on.

"Aaaah, let’s get this party started..." Pink screamed, invitingly.

Well, that’s an improvement, Carlos. I called my Jeep Carlos.

I believed in signs. My brother said I found them, whether they wanted to be found or not. But I didn’t care that he didn’t believe. I did. When I bought my Jeep, the first time I turned on the radio, the D.J. said, This is Carlos at 97.3 FM. I changed the station and heard an advertisement for Carlos Diego’s Taco Shop, which I love, but punched another station, looking for music. Then I heard, This is Carlos Santana. Enjoy. Needless to say, Black Magic Woman was our song. I didn’t have a song with Dean, but I had one with my car. It was just as well. It would have been one more thing poisoned for me.

So Carlos and I hit the road again. A little bit calmer and a lot slower.

The sun was a little warmer now and the day was perfectly clear. You could see for miles. The music didn’t bother me as much. I resolved not to take it personally. Soon the trees mingled with cactus and the landscape began to change.

I thought that once I left, the healing would slowly begin and the thinking would calm a bit. But the healing couldn’t begin because the thinking never stopped. I was on a hamster wheel of tantrums and broken promises. And holding hands, not ever wanting to let go. I wasn’t quite sure when things had changed. It happened so slowly that I didn’t see it. And then I remembered the waiting. So much time spent waiting to see if the next time would be different.

I tried to think of something else. I focused my attention on the signs approaching. Tucson 23 Miles. I kept driving. The Arizona desert was magnificent. So much nicer than California’s. It had a synergy about it. It seemed that all of the parts connected somehow.

As I approached the city, pubs and shops escorted me into town off the highway. I decided to take one of the major streets across the city to where I planned on sleeping through some of my broken heart. The reservation I had was for a small inn on the east side of town. The street was a tunnel of signs asking me to put my future in Boyd’s hands at Pima Realty or reminding me that seat belts save lives and offering me 50 percent off car detailing with any car wash at Tucson Speedy Wash and Detailing. Soon, the signs began to fade and the mountains that came into view again were majestic, peppered in grays and greens and browns that almost surrounded the city. I followed my GPS to the base of one of the mountains and found the Catalina Inn.

After checking in, I ordered a salad that I didn’t want. The last thing I had eaten was a bagel for breakfast. I knew I should eat something. Even the blues could not detract from the view from my patio. I sat out there and slowly ate what I could of my dinner, taking in the beauty of the mountains as the sun began to set. If I squinted, I could see the details of the colorful landscape. The trees and shrubs that made up the greens. The rocks and rims that made up the browns and grays. All different shades and hues. When I turned to look at the sun setting, I was stunned by the colors in the sky. I had only seen this kind of sunset in pictures or movies. I always thought it took the magic of the photographer to take a picture like this. I stood in awe, trying to catch the last glimpse of the peaches and lavenders that began to hide behind the top of the roof.

Suddenly, I felt drained. I had just enough energy to reserve a room for my next stop and take a hot shower before falling into bed.

* * * * * * * * *

When I woke, I remembered where I was. Dread and pain hit me. Tears welled up in my eyes. And so another morning came that I had to will myself to shower and dress, get up and out. I relied on muscle memory to do this. My mind felt like mush. I checked out and gassed up before turning my Jeep towards the highway that would lead me to New Mexico. I stopped at a quaint cafe for a coffee and muffin to go, and then got in the car and drove. I headed east and navigated some hills and turns before the road opened and I could see miles ahead. I took out the muffin and carefully opened the flap on the coffee cup. I was so engrossed in my muffin that I didn’t notice the ping from underneath the hood until the engine light came on.

This is not good, I said to myself. I pulled over, stopped and turned off the car. And then the worry came. What if I got stuck here? What if Carlos is broken? Why did Dean do this to me? As if the engine light was in cahoots with my ex. I turned on the engine to see if the light would come on again, but it didn’t start. I tried again. Still nothing. I took a few deep breaths and then took out my phone, but I had no signal.

Damn you, Dean! I screamed to the cacti, the trees and the oh-so-cute cottontail bunny that hopped away, startled at my outburst. I stopped my rant and it was quiet. About five seconds later, the panic arrived. I knew myself enough to know that the lack of reception coupled with my imagination was a dangerous combination. I stopped myself and went out to raise the hood. I hoped this, along with my hazard lights, would alert a passing motorist that I was in need of some help. I went back and sat in the Jeep, waiting for my unknown rescuer, armed with a nail file in one hand and a rape whistle in the other. Just in case.

I sat for an hour before the first car passed. It kept going. I checked my phone and car again. Still nothing. So I sat some more. At least it was a beautiful, cool, clear day. But after a little while, the blues kicked in so the panic wouldn’t feel so alone. I replayed how I told Dean that I was leaving. Questioning how things could have been different. It didn’t take long to get right back on that track of questions and condemnations.

I was thinking about this when I heard a tap on the window. I jumped and turned to see a man looking in. He smiled apologetically. His smile was disarming, but I grabbed my nail file anyway.

Need some help? he offered through the window. Unsure what to do, I nodded. He waited a few seconds before adding, Maybe you should tell me what the problem is.

I was nervous, but I didn’t really have much of a choice. I looked at the man on the other side of the window. He looked nice. But so did some of the serial killers I had seen on TV. This man, I thought, didn’t look crazy. In fact, he looked as though he were the one looking at a crazy person. I made a mental note not to look crazy. He was around my mom’s age, mid-50s or 60s, somewhere. He was tall, tanned and wore jeans and a button-down shirt. And he had on a wedding ring. I opened the door slowly and got out.

My car is dead, I started. I was driving and heard a ping and then the engine light came on and I stopped and now it won’t start again. As he listened to me, he made no sudden moves for a weapon. I relaxed a tiny bit.

Let’s take a look. He glanced over his shoulder and added, I’m Barry. I followed him.

Nice to meet you, Barry. I’m Jade. He looked at me as I spoke.

Nice to meet you, too. Sorry you’re having car trouble. I doubt I can figure out what’s wrong, but let me take a look and if not, then I can point you in the right direction. He lifted the hood and tickled around, pulling, tapping and tugging various parts. While he did this, I explained that my phone had no service, probably because of the mountains, so I couldn’t call for help. As he unscrewed some cap, he explained that most phones don’t work on this stretch. He reassured me that his did.

If your engine light was on, and it won’t start, I think we should have it towed to a garage. I have a friend, close by, with a garage. Want me to call him? He looked at me as if we knew each other. He recognized my worry and remembered that we didn’t. Or you can use my phone to call a friend or another garage. Whatever you want to do. I didn’t really know what to do or who I would call. I didn’t know anything about Tucson except that it had beautiful mountains and desert and delicious coffee and muffins.

I’d appreciate that. I don’t live here and wouldn’t know where I would take it. It occurred to me that I could be providing information to the enemy. He appeared genuinely sympathetic. So, I explained how I was from L.A. and passing through on my way to New Mexico.

Well, this sure is a glitch in your plan. But, hopefully, just a little one. Let me call my friend. I’m sure that he can help, but not sure how soon. He dialed his friend’s number and waited. Someone answered on the other end. Barry’s face brightened.

Hey, Ace. How ya doin’, my friend? I listened to him explain my situation. He kept smiling so I thought this might be good. I heard him make arrangements and then he hung up.

Looks like we lucked out. Ace said that Joe’s already out with the truck and he would call him to come get your car. He should be here in about 15 or so. The shop isn’t far. I can drive you over and we’ll see what Ace thinks. He waited, patiently, while I thought about what to do. He then added, Or, if you prefer, you can ride with Joe. He didn’t say this with any malice. Listen Jade. This probably seems unsettling. You don’t know me. I’ll do whatever you want. But I’m one of the good guys. I’ll only take you over to the garage. I won’t try anything. I looked up at him, a bit startled by his word choice. That would be foolish of me while you are armed with a nail file and a whistle. He offered that same disarming smile that greeted me in the window just a short while ago. It made me feel a little better. I took a deep breath, then told him that I would appreciate the ride.

I like seeing Ace anyway. He’s a good friend. He’ll know exactly what’s wrong. Like I said, cars are his thing. I felt slightly better than I did before Barry stopped.

Is there someone you need to call? I thought about it for a second. Who would I call and what would I say? My car is broken.

No, but thank you. I’ll call later when I know what my situation is. Jesse knew I was in Tucson today and that I would check in with him later. We both leaned on my car and waited.

So, New Mexico? Have you been there before? Barry was trying to put me at ease.

Nope.

And you’ve never been to Tucson before, right?

Right. Barry waited again. First time, I added. There was too much quiet. So how long have you lived in Tucson?

Almost 19 years. I waited. So did Barry.

And you have a wife?

Yes.

Any kids? Barry looked away.

We had a daughter. She’s gone now. So was his smile. I felt terrible for asking.

I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so nosey. I’m really sorry.

Barry didn’t smile, but he was relaxed when he turned back to me and spoke. Don’t worry about it, Jade. You didn’t know.

I didn’t know what to say after that, so I didn’t say anything. Barry saw my discomfort.

Really, it’s OK. It comes up now and then. It’s just hard to talk about. What else do you want to know about me?

I thought about it for a few seconds. What could I ask that was safe? What did I even want to know? Then I heard a dog bark. I startled.

Do you like dogs? He’s a sweet one. I didn’t realize that there was a dog in his truck. It was parked behind the Jeep and I hadn’t really paid attention to it.

I love dogs.

Barry whistled and a German Shepherd jumped out of the cab window and came running to Barry with his tail wagging.

Jade, this is Shasta. Shasta, this is Jade. He introduced us. Shasta, where are your manners? Shake Jade’s hand. The dog walked over to me and actually put his paw up as if he was waiting for me to shake hand. So I did.

Nice to meet you, Shasta. He’s beautiful, I told Barry.

Thanks. He’s a good dog. Do you have any? he asked. I bent down to pet Shasta.

No. I thought about it. But, no. No pets. Shasta nudged my hand. He wanted me to pet him some more.

Shasta, Barry said with a stern voice, don’t bother Jade.

It’s OK. He’s no bother. I knelt down and scratched Shasta some more. So does Shasta know other tricks?"

Ask him! I was surprised. But I did.

Shasta, do you know any other tricks? Nothing. Should I take that as a ‘no’? I asked Barry.

Hey, Shasta? Do you know other tricks? Tell Jade. Shasta barked. I looked at Barry.

So he only listens to you?

No, he’ll listen to you, too. Tell him to tell you something. You gotta use the world ‘tell.’

Shasta, tell me if Barry is a good guy.

Shasta barked. I looked at Barry.

See? I’m a good guy! Watch... Shasta, tell Jade I’m here to help.

Shasta barked.

That’s right, boy. Tell her more. Shasta barked again. Lilly and Shasta have conversations that can last for 15 minutes. It’s kind of funny.

Who’s Lilly? Barry looked at me and it seemed like he was searching for an answer when the tow truck pulled over in front of my car. The driver got out and greeted Barry.

Hey, Barry. How the hell are ya? This the car Ace was talking about? He greeted Barry with one of those man handshake hug combos. Shasta snuggled between them.

Hey, Shasta, boy. How ya doin? Joe gushed while scratching the sides of Shasta’s head.

Yeah, this is the car. Joe, meet Jade. Jade, Joe, he introduced us. Jade’s car engine light came on, she pulled over and now it won’t start. Ace is gonna look at it for her.

Nice to meet you, Joe. Thanks for coming out. I appreciate it.

Hey, no problemo. Any friend of Barry’s is a friend of mine. Glad we could help. Wanna give me the keys or are you just gonna go to the shop too? We explained that we were going to head there too and he told us that we could take off. We thanked him again and told him we would meet him there. Shasta, Barry and I headed back towards town in Barry’s truck.

I lied, Barry said. I looked at him, a little startled.

I said I’d take you straight to the shop. But do you mind making one stop? We’re gonna have to wait for your Jeep anyway. I just need to stop and get some honey for my wife. It’s on the way, at a roadside stand. Do you mind? I relaxed again.

No problemo.

He smiled. We drove just a bit before Barry pulled over to a makeshift tent by a van on the side of the road. A big wooden sign said, Local Honey. Barry told Shasta to stay and kept the car running while he got out and walked up to the guy under the tent. They talked for just a minute, shook hands and then the man got a bag out and filled it for Barry. He paid the man and came back to the car. He put the bag in his glove compartment.

Honey sticks. My wife loves them, he said, as if I knew what a honey stick was. We got back on the road and headed in the same direction as we had before. I was going to ask what a honey stick was but Barry spoke first.

So, if Ace needs to keep your car for repairs, where do you plan to stay until it’s fixed? I thought about it for a second.

I don’t know yet. Like I said, I don’t know Tucson and I was heading out. Any suggestions on where to stay? Maybe I can get a room again at the Catalina Inn.

With a reassuring tone, he told me that he would help me figure it out. It won’t be a problem finding someplace nearby. There’s a bunch of places. I’m gonna offer an alternative. You can take it or leave it. He looked over to see me waiting for him to continue.

You could come stay at the ranch. My family has a place just a few miles from here. We have a lot of property with lots of extra rooms. People come and go a lot at the ranch. You can stay there ’til your car’s fixed. You can’t beat the rates. You help out.... we feed you and house you. That’s the way the ranch works. He looked over at me and saw that I wasn’t sure what to say.

I know this is weird. Some strange guy comes to the rescue and then wants to take you home. But really, it’s not like that. We just have a unique situation going on there and, like I said, we always have people coming and going. I’m just trying to help. Think about it. Hopefully, you’ll luck out and Ace can fix it today. And if not, I can easily help you find another place to stay if you want. We kept driving.

I was thinking about this when we pulled off the road into the parking lot of an auto shop. The big faded wooden sign announced that we had arrived at Ace’s Auto Works. We parked near the building and Barry turned off his truck.

I’m gonna just holler for Ace. Want to come with or wait here? We both walked up to the garage entrance, after he told Shasta to stay in the truck. From underneath a white El Camino came a booming manly voice, Yo, Barry. That you?

Yeah, it’s me buddy. You gonna be awhile?

Nah. Just finishing up. I’ll be right out.

This Xavier’s car?

Yeah. He’s coming to get it... about an hour ago!