The Mysteries by Lisa Tuttle Read Free Book Online Page B

and after a few attempts he gave up and just drove. When we reached the motel, at least he didn't try to pretend that this was the ending of a sentimental made-for-TV movie, or apologize, or explain. Not a word about how someday we might see each other again. I didn't even say good-bye, just shut the door and walked away without looking back.
    When I got home on Sunday night, I told my mother that I'd found my runaway father. I waited until Heather was in her room, and I had my mother all to myself, eating grilled cheese sandwiches at the kitchen table.
    “Ah,” she said quietly, searching my face. “And was it all right?”
    I shrugged, then shook my head. “It wasn't like I always thought it would be. I thought I'd be solving this great mystery, and all I did was to find a guy who didn't want to be found.”
    “People are mysteries,” said my mother. “There are no solutions.”
    “File under the Wisdom of Mom,” I said, but not in a nasty way. I scowled at my sandwich and felt my pulse rate speed up. “You don't seem very surprised.” I looked directly at her. “Did you already know where he was?”
    She looked uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, Ian. Your grandmother told me about two years ago.”
    “Why didn't you tell me?”
    “Because . . . you didn't ask. No, really, I mean it. I didn't want to force it on you, stir up painful feelings. You were doing so well at school and all, I thought you'd gotten over it. Especially since I had no intention of getting in touch with him. I decided that if you asked, or were obviously, you know, thinking a lot about it, then I'd tell you.”
    I was shocked, but tried not to show it. How had she not realized that I had never stopped thinking about and wondering what had happened to my dad? It was an obsession with me, and yet she had not known anything about it. As the first shock faded away, I was more relieved. There were plenty of things in my mind that I wouldn't want my mother knowing about. People were mysteries. Thank goodness for that.
    I stuffed the rest of my sandwich into my mouth and, as I chewed, thought about my paternal grandparents. We'd never seen that much of them. They lived, frugally, in Madison, in the same two-bedroom house they'd owned since my father was in grade school. They had never approved of my mother and didn't visit us, their excuse their reluctance to take their deteriorating old Ford out on the highway; but we went to them at least twice a year, and they'd always been very generous to me and Heather at Christmas and on our birthdays. They had seemed as worried and as clueless as us when their only son disappeared.
    “How long did Grandma know?”
    “I didn't ask her that,” said my mother, pulling her crusts apart and nibbling at the cheese.
    I thought of something else from two years ago. “He wasn't at Grandpa's funeral.”
    My mother nodded, looking sad. “He didn't want to meet us. He knew we'd be there. He'd been in Madison with Grandma just the day before. She tried to talk him into staying, but he wouldn't. He wanted her to promise she wouldn't mention that she'd seen him.” She shook her head.
    “So that's when she told you. Has she even met her new grandchildren?”
    “Ian, that's between them. It's none of my business, and I don't care—but I
do
care about Grandma's feelings, and I don't like seeing her hurt. Joe didn't have to create this big mystery and hurt everybody else just because he'd stopped loving me.”
    “I don't think it was about you,” I said. “I don't think he wanted to be a dad anymore. Or a son. He wanted to disappear out of the world and start all over again, fresh. That's more or less what he said, I think.”
    She nodded as if this was old information, and reached across the table to hold my hand. “Then I hope you know it wasn't about you, either. You're a wonderful person, Ian. Your dad doesn't know what he's lost.”
             
    After finding my father, I lost all interest in being a