Authors: Brandon Massey
Reverend Brown steepled his hands. "There's no simple
way to summarize the character of a man like Richard
Hunter. He was a complex individual, driven by motivations
that I think he didn't often understand himself. Just as one
cannot easily reach a conclusion about what kind of man he
was, likewise did Richard distrust easy, obvious answers"
"Like what? Break it down for me, if you don't mind."
The pastor rotated slowly in his chair. "Richard loved to
debate theology with me. He was a Christian and had been
for all of his life, but toward the end, I think he grew dissatisfied with the answers that the Bible supplies about achieving
everlasting life, Divine mercy, and a place in heaven
weighty subjects of that nature. Richard began to study other
religions: Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, all of the other
`isms' you can think of. He was seeking answers to questions that had puzzled him for his entire adult life."
"I did notice a lot of books about religion in his library."
"Of course. He didn't stop with the books, either. He
began to hold discussions with a young woman named Pearl.
She lives on the outskirts of town, and a lot of folks believe
that she's psychic. Your father was relentless in his search
and would leave no stone unturned"
"Pearl" David made a mental note to follow up on her
later. "Still, I don't get it. What was he obsessed about?"
The pastor tapped his lip with a pencil. "Have you read
your father's work?"
"I've read all of his books. Many of them twice."
"What common theme runs through them? Consider it
carefully."
David leaned back in the chair. "The plight of the black
man in America?"
"Probe deeper."
"I guess he ... he seemed kind of obsessed with death"
"Close, very close. But what, exactly, about death interested him? Think about one of his last books, Prodigal Son."
"Okay. The story was about a man who fakes his death"
The pastor smiled, but it was a rueful expression. "There
you go.
'
Shock ejected David out of his chair.
"Are you serious? You think my dad faked his death?"
"I'm convinced that he did, David."
"But .. ." David couldn't finish the sentence. He collapsed into the chair. He felt dizzy.
Reverend Brown turned, reached into a mini refrigerator
beside the desk, and withdrew a bottle of water. He handed it
to David. David thanked him and took deep gulps of the
water. His nausea faded.
Reverend Brown raised his index finger. "Please understand now, I wasn't an accomplice in Richard's plot. He
shared nothing with me about his plan to disappear. I'd never
go to the police or anyone else to voice my opinion, as it's
just based on my knowledge of his character and recollections of our discussions. I'm only sharing this with you because you're his son, and you wanted the truth. I've given
you the truth as I see it."
David shook his head. "I don't want to believe it, but I've
wondered ... you've just validated what I've suspected all
along"
Reverend Brown came around the desk and put his hand
on David's shoulder. "I'm sorry. But remember that when
you ask a question, you have to be prepared for the answer."
"So where is he?" David said. "If he isn't dead, where did
he go?"
The pastor clasped his hands, sighed. "I don't know. I tell
you, I've racked my brains thinking of where Richard
might've gone, what he's doing. He's traveled the world, you
know, and is comfortable in a wide range of cultures. He
could be anywhere"
"Why?" David said. "Why fake his death?"
"Think about it. If the world believed you were dead, you
would, in a sense, get a picture of how life on earth would be
if you had genuinely passed on. Consider all of the articles
that have been written about Richard since his supposed
death. Think of all the tributes and outpourings of love, compassion, and admiration, by friends and foes alike. I imagine
that Richard is soaking up all of it, reveling in his secret
knowledge, savoring his victory. He has, in effect, cheated
death, from a worldly perspective."
"Too much" David dragged his hand down his sweaty
face. "This is too much for me. I came all the way here from
Atlanta and moved into his house, for nothing. I'm not going
to learn anything about him. He's gone to who-knowswhere, and that's it."
Reverend Brown returned to his chair. "I disagree.
Coming to Mason's Corner was the best step you could've
possibly taken. I'm convinced that, in his home, you'll find
clues that will tell you what's happened to him."
"Clues?" David said. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Books, papers, correspondence, photographs, artwork you can search through his belongings
and piece together the puzzle. To a large degree, a man's
thoughts can be divined from his surroundings. I don't think
it'll be easy, but with the grace of God, you'll discover the
complete truth"
"I'd be lying if I said that I was ready for this," David
said. "But thank you for being honest with me. It means
more than you can know."
"Please keep what I've told you in the strictest confidence. If you have to share my theory with a friend, don't let
them know who gave you the idea. It wouldn't look good for
the pastor of the largest church in town to be responsible for
spreading a controversial rumor like this."
"Understood" David was wrung out, ready to go home
and crash on the bed.
Reverend Brown stood, signaling that their conversation
was over. He folded David into another hug.
"May God bless you, David. I'm praying for you. And
your father."
Still numb with shock following his conversation with
Reverend Brown, David returned to the house.
When he walked through the front door, he saw the place
as though with a new set of eyes.
I'm convinced that, in his home, you'll find clues that will
tell you what's happened to him.
His discussion with the pastor felt as if it had been part of
a dream. A dream he wanted to forget.
In the living room, he settled onto the sofa. King trotted
toward him and slapped his paws on David's lap, wanting to
be petted.
"Not now, King," he said. "Go lie down "
King looked at him pitifully, then lay on the floor near
David's feet.
David stared at the ceiling. The fan rotated slowly.
So my father might be alive. Might be, remember. Reverend
Brown could be wrong and has no proof to support his theory.
But what should I do next?
How about traveling? With the fortune his father had
given him he could travel the globe searching for his dad.
But where would he go? He didn't have the vaguest idea.
As the pastor had advised, the search would have to begin
in this house.
A recent black-and-white photograph of his father stood
on the coffee table. His father leaned against the vine covered column of a large, antebellum-style house. He wore a
gray sport coat and a white shirt. His arms were folded
across his chest, and his famous cigar jutted from his fingers.
David thought that his dad's confident, the-world-is-myoyster smile held a hint of mystery.
He looked into his father's piercing eyes, as though he
could communicate telepathically with him, wherever he
was in the world.
Where are you, Dad? Why have you done this?
He traced his finger across the picture frame.
Maybe he shouldn't try to find his father. Maybe his father did not want to be found by anyone, including his son.
His father, who had been photographed publicly for decades,
would have needed to alter his appearance in order to live his
new life in anonymity. What if he acted like a different man,
too?
Concentrating on the photo, David felt a realization stirring. He walked through the house, gripping the picture in
his hands.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor. He walked into
the office and stopped beside the window.
He raised the blinds.
In the distance, Jubilee loomed, as ominous as ever.
David studied the photograph, looked out the window
again.
It looked like his dad had taken the photo in front of the
Mason house.
For Sunday dinner, Nia prepared a fresh salad, lasagna,
garlic bread, and for dessert, peach cobbler.
Nia worried about how her mother would receive David.
When she returned home after her meeting with a client in
Memphis, Mama talked about how, at church, David had
stood when visitors had been asked to rise. "You could see
that the boy was eating up the attention, glorifying in it,"
Mama said. "Just like his father." She was determined to find
fault in David, and Nia was beginning to think that her mother's dislike for David had nothing to do with Davidand everything to do with a troubled relationship her mother
must have had with David's father.
David arrived at three o'clock. He was casually dressed
in tan slacks and a white, button-down shirt. He looked
handsome.
He presented her with a bouquet of fresh tulips and lilies.
"This is for the ladies of the house"
"Ooh, thank you. That's so sweet of you. Come on, I'll introduce you to my mother." She took him by the hand.
Mama sat in the recliner, a crossword puzzle on her lap.
She peered over the edge of her glasses.
"Mama, I'd like you to meet David."
David stepped forward to shake her mother's hand.
"Hmph," Mama said, allowing her hand to be held briefly.
"I saw you at church this morning."
"Did you? I enjoyed the service."
"Were you paying attention?"
Oh, Lord, Nia thought. Here we go.
"I was" David's smile had frozen.
Mama twisted her lips. "I hope so. Because I sure was. I
have a few things I want to learn the truth about. Know what
I mean?"
"Uh, sure" David's eyes shifted around the room.
Nia broke in. "Hey, dinner's ready. Let's eat"
Dinner was equally strained. David tried valiantly to engage her mother in conversation, asking about their family,
sharing details about his own family and background, commenting on things he had seen and people he had met in
town, and touching on current events, but Mama would not
be charmed. She gave him curt responses and narrow, distrustful looks.
Nia was embarrassed. She rarely brought men home to
meet her mother, but her mother had never behaved like this.
When Nia began to serve the peach cobbler for dessert,
Mama got up.
"All right, being civil has worn me out," Mama said.
"Nia, I'm going to take a nap. Make sure you clean up what
you messed up. David, take care of yourself."
Stunned, holding the spatula in her hand, Nia watched
Mama leave.
"Well," David said. "Looks like I blew it."
"I'm so sorry, David. Mama doesn't usually act like
that."
"I don't get it. What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing, you were a sweetheart," she said. "I don't think
the way Mama acted has anything to do with you. She hasn't
told me so, but I think she's bitter about something related to
your dad"
"That explains it, I guess. Doesn't help me much, though.
I can't change my bloodlines."
"Don't worry, she'll get over it." Nia put down the spatula. "I need to get out of this house for a while. Want to take
a walk? We can have the peach cobbler later."
Outdoors, they strolled along the sidewalk, hand-in-hand,
following the same path they had taken last night. It was a
warm, gorgeous summer afternoon. The earth was vibrant,
bursting with life and possibilities.
They walked into the park, where they had settled on a
bench the night before. They followed a hiking trail that
curved through the woods. The cool shade was a welcome
respite from the heat.
"I spoke to Reverend Brown this morning," David said.
"Did he tell you anything interesting about your father?"
The way David looked at her made her stop in her tracks.
Then he smiled, as if to reassure her, but it was a strained expression.
"He did," David said. He seemed about to say something
else, then appeared to change his mind.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he said.
He wasn't being open with her. She could tell that he was deeply worried about something. But she wouldn't push
him. She'd let him reveal his thoughts at his own pace.
"Have you ever heard of a woman in town named Pearl?"
David said. "She's supposed to be psychic, from what I
hear."
"Has Pearl called you?"
"Huh? No"
"Good," Nia said. "I've heard of Pearl. I've talked to her.
She called me."
"When? Why?"
"She called me a couple of years ago," she said. "I was
living in Houston at the time, but I was home for the holidays. She called me and warned me to be careful dealing
with my colleagues."
This time, it was David who stopped walking. "Are you
for real?"
"Oh, yeah. She was right, you know-Mr. Morgan, the
stalker, proves it. My problem was that he was the last one I
would've worried about"
"That's amazing. So this Pearl is the real deal, then"
"Let me put it like this: if she were to call me, I would listen to her. I think lots of people in town would agree. Some
folks thinks she's a phony, but that's probably because she's
never called them."
The trail came to a short wooden bridge that spanned a
creek. They stopped near the middle of the bridge and leaned
against the sturdy railing.
David peered into the brownish water below. "That's how
Pearl does her thing then, by calling people?"
"Sometimes. She runs a palm reading and tarot card business out of her house, too, so people usually visit her. She
doesn't come into town very often" She looked at him.
"Why all these questions about Pearl?"
"I think my dad talked to her, so I wanted to know more
about her. I might talk to her about him."
"This stuff about your father," Nia said. "It's really bothering you, isn't it?"