Echoes of a Distant Summer (54 page)

An alarm went off on top of the fridge and the mood was broken. Elizabeth pulled her hand free from his grasp and exhaled. “Time to go, Tremain. Uncle Elroy is expecting us.”

“What is this ‘Tremain’ stuff? Don’t you like my first name?”

“It’s just a holdover from my days as a police officer,” Elizabeth answered as she donned her coat. “Everyone was called by their last name. Jackson is an okay name, but it isn’t what I want to call you. It’s too formal for me. What’s your full name?”

“My friends call me Jax.”

“That’s a guy name. What’s your full name?”

“Jackson St. Clair Tremain.”

“St. Clair? Oh, I like that. St. Clair Tremain. I’m going to call you St. Clair. Do you mind?”

“Only if I can do the same with you.”

“Just don’t call me Liz, Beth, Betty, or Eliza and you’ll be okay.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Elizabeth Alexandra Carlson.”

“Alexandra? Too long.”

“Don’t call me Sandy!”

“What about Alex? It’s got a crossover quality.”

Elizabeth nodded her head. “Alex, hmmm. Alex is good. I like that, but don’t introduce me like that. That’s a special name only for you.”

“You have a hell of a lot of rules.”

Elizabeth grabbed his arm and ushered him to the door. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Buster.”

Elroy Fontenot stood on his balcony and watched the traffic whiz back and forth in a sunken roadway over which Ocean Boulevard passed. The fourplex which he owned was located in the Westlake District of San Francisco on a hill with a view over the City College campus and
Ocean Boulevard. He lived in the top apartment and when the fog rolled in like milk of magnesia billowing in water, and visibility ended at the street below his building, Elroy would go out on his balcony with a drink and stare into the gray nothingness. It gave him a sense of the supernatural. He often imagined that the entrances into both heaven and hell would be shrouded in swirling fog. For the most part, he was a pragmatic man who gave little thought to gods or demons. Elroy was an empiricist, who believed in cause and effect, action and reaction. There was a logic to life; one need only piece the facts together. He had little use for faith or prayer. He believed in solid things like hard work, property ownership, guns, flag and country, and an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.

The afternoon sky was free of clouds. The view from his balcony extended across the bay to the dark line of the East Bay hills. Elroy sipped his scotch and looked at his watch. He was awaiting the arrival of Elizabeth and King Tremain’s grandson. He still did not know what there was to say, yet he felt that finally meeting some member of his long-lost family would bring to resolution some of the questions that used to haunt him. Who was LeGrande? Why was he left in an orphanage? Why had King never contacted him? Was Serena his mother? These questions no longer possessed the intensity to upset him, but if there were answers, he’d like to hear them.

He heard the sounds of footsteps climbing the stairs to his apartment and went to the front door. He opened the door as Elizabeth was poised to knock. He smiled and stood back for her and her companion to enter. Elroy was prepared to be formal and polite. After all, her companion had neither a hand in the injustice of leaving him in the orphanage, nor the ability to remedy the situation. At best, he would be a source of information. At worst, a brief nuisance. The man who followed her was tall and athletic, but it wasn’t until Elroy stood face-to-face with him as they shook hands that Elroy saw something that shook him to his core.

“Hello, Mr. Fontenot. My name’s Jackson Tremain. I’m glad to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you” was all that Elroy could muster. Jackson Tremain looked like his oldest son, Denmark, the one who was killed in Vietnam. It was not that they could be confused with each other, but there was no doubt they were part of the same genetic stream. The eyebrows,
the cheekbones, the shape of the head, the little smile which appeared at the corner of the lips: all were pieces of Elroy’s dead son, pieces that were assembled differently, but recognizable nonetheless. Elroy had not expected anything like this. The resemblance was unsettling.

“I brought Grandfather’s file on you.” Jackson held up a fat accordion file. “Where would you like me to put it? I’m sure you will find it very interesting reading. I did.”

“Take it to the kitchen table. We can sit and talk there.” Elroy watched as Elizabeth led Jackson into the kitchen. He felt a shortness of breath and a hollowness in his chest cavity as if the air had been knocked out of him. All the unresolved issues that had existed between Elroy and his sons seemed to bubble to the surface of his consciousness. He had not even said good-bye to Denmark before he had shipped overseas for his tour of duty. He had not ever told the boy that he loved him. Neither of his sons had received much warmth from him, a fact that filled him with regret whenever he thought of them. Unknowingly, he had denied them the very same things he had been denied in the orphanage. A bad taste filled his mouth, but he suppressed his misgivings and followed his guests into the kitchen.

“We brought some wine to lubricate our palates and some barbecue to ease conversation,” Elizabeth said with a smile. She went to a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. “St. Clair, get three glasses out of that cabinet.”

“I’m doing the higher-octane stuff, I’m already drinking scotch,” Elroy interjected with a frown. “I don’t need a glass. And I’m going to have to ask you to take that barbecue back to the car, because the smell of it makes me sick. Sorry about that.”

There was a moment of silence then Jackson shrugged. “Sure thing; if we’d have known we would’ve brought something else. I’ll be right back.”

Jackson was gone several minutes and when he returned the wine was opened and poured. Elroy watched the interaction between Elizabeth and Jackson and saw them exchange a bantering conversation without words, consisting of facial expressions and hand signals. He saw her use her hip to nudge Jackson toward the table. Elroy mused that if she liked Jackson sufficiently to show this level of affection in front of him, then Jackson must have something. Elizabeth had high standards. He wondered how they had met. If Jackson was even thinking
about carrying on his grandfather’s business, they were from different worlds. Elroy sipped his scotch as he studied Jackson covertly. What was his story?

Jackson raised his wineglass for a toast and said, “To the end of a long search and the reestablishment of family ties.” Elizabeth raised her glass in agreement and Elroy followed suit but with reservation. Jackson continued, “It’s unfortunate that this meeting didn’t happen while my grandfather was alive, but you’ll see from the file papers, he kept up with the events in your life. Personally, I don’t know why he never contacted you himself, but it’s obvious he wanted me to talk to you, or he would’ve never left this file for me to read.”

“How well did you know your grandfather?” Elroy took out a cigar and clipped the end before he lit it. He puffed it until it was glowing brightly. “Did you know he was one of the main crime bosses running the Fillmore back in the forties and early fifties?”

“I don’t know details, but I know my grandfather was an Old World gangster. He started back in the prohibition era. Did you know him? He doesn’t mention that you knew him.”

Elroy examined the end of his cigar and replied, “I knew of him, through police reports. I only met him once.”

“There’s nothing in his papers that mentions you met him. You saw him face-to-face?”

“It was 1954. We were looking eye to eye. He saw me and I saw him. He knew who I was then, but at the time I didn’t know who he was. He didn’t say anything to me about our kinship then, so I don’t understand this now.”

“He’s dead. I’m the one making the overture,” Jackson answered, thumping his chest. “You have a right to your inheritance. You and I are related. We should know each other. I’m just trying to do the right thing now. I can’t help what went before. In his papers he acknowledges you as his son. I want to respect that. After you were kidnapped, he spent thirty years looking for you. He had no idea that Serena knew where you were all along. By the time he tracked you down, you were already working for the police department.”

“I was kidnapped?” Elroy scoffed. “By whom? From whom?”

“You and your mother were taken by the DuMonts and the sheriff of New Orleans. It’s all in here.” Jackson tapped the accordion file.

Elroy was silent for a while as he digested Jackson’s words. He
looked at Jackson and asked, “You know who my mother is and where she is?”

Jackson nodded. “Why don’t you read the materials and we can talk when you’re ready. It’s better you have all the information first.”

Elroy took another long puff on his cigar then gently tapped it out in the ashtray. He looked at Jackson and asked, “Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you? If you don’t have to cut me in, why do it?”

“Two reasons. First, it’s the right thing to do. Second, your life may be in danger. The feud with the DuMonts is still going on and if King’s enemies found out you were alive, they might come looking for you. You deserve a fighting chance.”

Elroy picked up the file. “How do I know that the information contained in here is true?”

Jackson shrugged. “You don’t, but you have to think what do I have to gain by misinforming you?”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m wondering if some old man who was close to death was trying to rewrite history, put his own spin on reality, make up for past weaknesses. Somebody trying to adjust his account.”

“Read it and make your own decisions,” Jackson suggested as he stood up. “We can talk in a couple of days if you like. Here’s a number where you may reach me.” Jackson handed Elroy a card.

Elroy studied Jackson then got to his feet slowly. “You believe what’s in here is true, don’t you?”

Jackson nodded. “My grandfather was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. His word was his bond. I believe this information is true to the best of his knowledge.” Jackson stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fontenot. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Elroy shook Jackson’s hand but kept a grip on it as he said, “I wouldn’t like to hear of Elizabeth getting hurt behind some mobster activity. I hope you’re not keeping anything from her and you’ve got the means to protect her if things get rough.”

Jackson smiled. “She knows what I know and I plan on protecting her with every means at my disposal.”

Elroy released Jackson’s hand and stepped back from the table. Elizabeth rose and gave him a hug. He whispered in her ear as they walked to the door arm in arm that she should call him later. She nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out the door with Jackson. Elroy watched them descend the stairs. He saw there was a bounce
in Elizabeth’s step and a sparkle in her eyes that was new. This Jackson Tremain was a serious contender. He was a cool customer too. Elroy reviewed their conversation. Jackson had revealed very little about his grandfather’s business or his involvement in it.

Elroy refreshed his scotch, opened the windows, and went out onto the deck. He wanted to air out all smell of the barbecue. The night was clear. The lights of the city and the East Bay sparkled and twinkled in the distance, allowing the imagination to run to fantasy and illusion, yet the streets immediately below his building seemed windswept and wretched. Dim shadows of people in flapping coats appeared and disappeared under the sporadically placed streetlights. The lights of passing cars revealed a neighborhood without magic. Elroy took a large drink of his scotch and chuckled humorlessly. It was always easier to see mystery and pleasure in the distance.

Elroy thought about the file sitting on his kitchen table and experienced an unusual giddiness, as if he were about to take an important examination for which he had prepared for a long time. He felt both reluctance and excitement. Would the file answer all his questions? Could he really believe it, if it did? Did the answers really matter? He turned away from the view and walked back into his apartment. If the contents of the file affected him one-tenth the amount that Jackson had, he was in for quite a ride. It was like experiencing something out of the Twilight Zone, to see a man who looked so much like Denmark walk through his door. Elroy had read somewhere that people who made mistakes concerning important events were doomed to repeat their activities in a recurring cycle until they got things right. Was Jackson an augur of such a lesson? How else to explain the similarity in appearance to Denmark? How else to explain that Jackson had stirred something inside of him that gave him a trace sense of belonging, a genetic bridge linking past and future? Against his will and better judgment, he knew that he liked Jackson and wanted to see him again. If he couldn’t be a father to his own sons, perhaps he could be an uncle, or distant cousin, to someone else’s son. He sat down at the table and opened the file.

A few blocks away from Elroy’s building Jackson pulled the car to the curb and turned off the engine. He stared into the lights of the passing traffic, seemingly lost in thought.

Elizabeth gazed at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

He exhaled and turned to her. “This is a big night for my family. A son who has been lost has been found. I have made the first move in correcting a tragedy that has gone on for more than sixty years. I had no idea it would affect me emotionally. Elroy looks so much like my father and grandfather that it’s eerie. I was actually getting choked up in his apartment.”

Elizabeth commented, “I thought our departure was a little abrupt, but it wasn’t apparent to me that you were upset.” She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. Her face was illuminated only intermittently by headlights, yet the warmth in her expression was obvious even in the semidarkness. “Why do you think you were affected so deeply?”

“I don’t know. I just felt the floodgates weakening. Since my grandfather was killed I feel like I’m holding so much back, so many unresolved things that they’re slopping over the dam I’ve built to keep them from overrunning my thoughts.”