Missing Maggie

By Jennifer L. Davidson

“Before today, I thought of him as a sweet man with a dreadfully sad story – a story that I would’ve been happy to have as my own.”

Unbeknownst to Kody Burkoff, a ghostwriter, and her latest love interest, Kevin, they are hot on the trail to finding out the truth about her client Daniel’s past; a truth that isn’t meant to be uncovered. In the beginning, Daniel’s recount of his past sounds like an extraordinary love story that anyone would envy. Their friendly conversations end, however, after an unpredicted encounter one cold winter afternoon, igniting Daniel’s suspicions that he’s finally been found. A twist of trails and one shocking event sends the trio spiraling, leaving one individual with a heavy heart and one begging for more answers. Entwined with shocking surprises, chance connections, and endearing conversations, Missing Maggie explores love in all of its forms, revenge at its worst, and truth in all its glory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer L. Davidson
• Release date: Oct 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466101050

Jennifer L. Davidson

After spending ten years as a technical writer, I quit my job to focus on my family, which at the same time allowed me to write my first novel. I thought all of my creative juices had been sucked from my very existence until I sat down one day and wrote a personal piece for a local magazine. It was published within a couple of months. I was incredibly excited, of course, but what that one article really gave me was the confidence to keep writing. I've been writing ever since and am enjoying every minute of it.

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Prologue

January 23, 2001

It wasn’t until Kevin’s mother was on her deathbed that he learned she had been lying to him his entire life. She was barely able to speak above a whisper when she said, I need to tell you the truth about your father.

What do you mean? Kevin asked, thinking that perhaps the drugs were making her delusional. Before today she had never alluded to there being a secret about who his father was. His father died in the war.

He’s not who you think he is.

As Kevin sat bedside in the sterile hospital room surrounded by the sounds of medical equipment and Drew Carey peddling wares on The Price is Right, his mother proceeded to tell him the shocking truth. Never in a million years had he imagined what she disclosed to him, yet in some odd way it all made perfect sense.

I’m sorry I kept that from you, his mother sobbed. I meant to tell you, but then I didn’t. I thought you would rather like to believe that your father was a brave soldier instead of a man who chose a life that didn’t include us.

Worrying about how upset his mother was getting, Kevin quickly reassured her that he wasn’t upset with her for what she told him. I understand, Mom. You thought you were doing the right thing. I will never fault you for that. I’m glad you told me now. It’s important that I know the truth.

Was it important that he knew the truth? Did it matter who his father was? His father could be the President of the United States or a bum on the street for all he cared. The real truth was that Kevin grew up without a father, and he thought he had turned out just fine.

You must hate me, his mother said with closed eyes.

I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.

Kevin’s mother passed away hours later. It was as if the weight of that one secret had finally lifted from her heart and she could then pass on to her next phase of existence. Unfortunately for Kevin, his heart grew heavier. The weight of losing his mother would stick with him until his dying day. He was also now forced to carry along the newly gained knowledge that there was a man out there, possibly living right in the area, with his same DNA.

Did it matter that he was out there? Nah. Not really. Kevin would still go on living his life. His mother never suggested that he go and find this guy. She just needed to get the truth off her chest. She did what she needed to do. Kevin would then do what he needed to do. He figured he would do nothing.

January 16, 2011

Hello? Kevin grumbled as he picked up the phone.

It was late and he hated to answer calls on his landline. It was almost always a telemarketer. Even so, a call this late at night intrigued him.

I know who your father is, the woman said.

I know who he is too.

Do you know where he is?

I haven’t been looking. And who are you to be asking me these questions?

He lives on Lake Washaka. You should seek him out.

I don’t…

The woman hung up. Kevin was left to shout at no one.

Lake Washaka, huh? he mumbled to himself.

Kevin, now wide awake, stared out his bedroom window. How did that woman know him, or his father for that matter? If she did know what she was talking about, why was she telling him this now? He hadn’t thought about his father for years. Well, really thought about him. On occasion he saw men that looked similar to what he envisioned his father looking like, but other than that he still hadn’t felt compelled to conduct an all-out search. But now what? Now he knew the man’s name and whereabouts. He had to admit that now that he was a thirty-year-old man, the idea of finding his father was more interesting. Ten years ago he scoffed at the thought. Was this the indicator he had been waiting for?

1

Hello. Can I help you? I asked the older gentleman as he entered my office.

Are you Kody? Kody Burkoff? The ghostwriter?

Yes, I am.

Oh! he said, looking rather surprised. Sorry. I guess I was expecting Kody to be a man.

I get that a lot, I said nonchalantly. How can I help you?

After taking a deep breath, the man said, I need you to write a love story… my love story.

And that’s how my day started.

My new business, In Your Words, was my first attempt at doing what I wanted to do: write the memoirs of everyday people as described by them.

Most people made excuses to get up and leave when someone went on and on about how they met their husband or how they chose the name of their firstborn child, but I found it all rather interesting.

Okay. Please come on back, have a seat, and tell me what you have in mind.

I took the man’s heavy winter coat and offered him a recliner near the fireplace at the rear of my newly renovated office space. I liked to make my potential clients feel as comfortable as possible. With the fireplace as the focus, I had created a soothing environment using dim lighting, dark wood on the floor, and a rich color on the walls. It wasn’t easy for most people to just start spilling their guts, but the proper environment helped them to relax.

As I said, I want you to write my love story. My wife recently passed away, and I want our story documented before it’s my turn to visit the pearly gates.

The man sitting in front of me appeared to be in his mid-to-late sixties. His hair was cleanly parted on one side, and he was dressed rather nicely for this neck of the woods. The majority of the men around here wore worn-out jeans along with a free t-shirt they won at a softball tournament.

I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. …

My name is Daniel, Daniel Livingston. I live out on Lake Minska, on the north side where all the good fishing is. Maggie was always giving me a hard time for never bringing any fish home. She said I spent too much time fishing with nothing to show for it. Eh…I guess now I have all the time in the world.

Daniel stopped talking and peered into the fire. I let the man have his time.

After a few moments, I said, Daniel? Are you okay?

Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I’ll be talking about Maggie and then the next thing I know five minutes have passed without me saying a word. I feel like a real ass when I realize what’s happened. I’m just having a hell of a time dealing with this. I miss her so much.

That was sweet. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He seemed absolutely heartbroken.

Well, how about this? I said. To take a little pressure off of you, why don’t I tell you more about what I do and how I can help you?

All right, that sounds good. I don’t mean to take up much of your time. Maybe you got things you need to do.

No, I don’t have anything scheduled today. Really, I have time to listen, and to talk, I said reassuringly. Typically, I spend the initial meeting with a new client going over exactly what it is they’re looking to accomplish. Some people want their entire life story written down, including memorable short stories from their past. Some people just want the basic timeline of their lives documented. I even had one gentleman only document his life between the ages of eighteen and thirty-four.

What did he do that for?

Partly because he was ninety-two and his youth was clearer to him than his present, and then because he led a pretty fascinating life during those sixteen years.

What was so fascinating?

Well, Mr. Anderson was a professional baseball player during that time and he traveled along the East Coast entertaining people with his fastball. He spoke about the good times he had with the other players, seeing the sights, meeting beautiful women, and eating great food. When he was thirty-four that lifestyle came to an end. Because of the Great Depression and the collapse of the Eastern League, Mr. Anderson could no longer play baseball and was forced to go home to help his parents on the farm in Iowa.

That’s a damn shame, Daniel said.

It certainly is, although, at least he had the opportunity to play. Not all of us are able to fulfill a dream like that.

Agreed.

Squirming a bit in his chair, Daniel said, Well, I think I’d like to do this. Can we be done today or will you need more time?

I almost laughed. Get this done today?

I don’t think we’ll be able to finish up today. You have to keep in mind Daniel that this memoir is for you and your loved ones. You can include anything you want. I’ll help to organize your thoughts and make the story read smoothly. I can even help bring out memories through our conversations and by asking questions.

Yeah, yeah, I understand, he said with a sigh. It’s all about how much effort I put into it, right? I came in here thinking we could just get this done this afternoon, but you’ve already made me realize that that would be expecting a lot from you, and from me for that matter.

While Daniel pondered the situation, I stole a glance outside. It looked as though another snowstorm was rolling in.

Raising his head, Daniel said, I want my story to include how I met Maggie, when and where we got married, and about how my brother got really drunk at our reception. We have two children, so I want to include how Maggie was such a great mother to them. I also want to include stories about some of the quirky things Maggie did to keep our family laughing.

Really? My ears perked up. I loved hearing about funny family stories. I always highly encouraged those types of stories when working with my clients. What kinds of things did she do?

Well, there was the time she made us wear ugly sweaters to our stuffy neighbor’s Christmas party. We were the only ones having an ugly sweater party. The rest of the party-goers didn’t have a clue. We laughed for years about that one.

I politely laughed along with Daniel.

He met my gaze. His eyes glistened. Most importantly though, I want to put into words how much I loved that woman and how much I miss her right now.

What a lucky woman Maggie was to have had such an endearing husband. I only hoped I could do her justice writing their love story.

We can do all of that, Daniel. After our discussion here, I’ll locate the file with questions I’ve used in similar interviews so that the next time you come in I’ll have everything ready and we can start right in with your story. To prepare you a little, I’ll start off by asking you the basic questions, such as when and where you met Maggie. Those answers should come pretty easily.

He nodded.

I continued.

In my experience, the more a client talks about his or her past, the easier it is to remember. That’s when the fun little stories come out. For instance, there’s the ugly sweater party you mentioned. Those stories are, in my opinion, what really make the characters shine. You and Maggie, and whomever else you choose to talk about, are essentially characters in your own story. You are the author, Daniel. I am merely the narrator.

Daniel looked a little uncomfortable after my empowerment spiel.

I’m no author, Kody. I’m just a guy who lost his wife and wants to remember the love we shared. He got up as if he was about to leave. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m not quite ready for this.

Uh-oh. I needed to think of something quick. Daniel, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. My only intention in saying all of that is to let you know that you’re in control, and you can make it what you want. The experience is yours.

Daniel remained on his feet. I couldn’t help but think that I had royally screwed this one up. I shouldn’t have gone into the you are the author, I am simply the narrator mumbo jumbo. Some clients were totally into the control thing while others weren’t. I assumed that Daniel wasn’t looking to be in control, and if I wanted to keep him as a client, I was the one who needed to take charge.

How about this? Can we set up a time to meet again and just start talking about Maggie? I think that will ease your nerves a bit. Sometimes actually doing something is easier than talking about doing it. In my case, running is actually easier to do than to think about. Thinking about it just makes me nauseous.

A smile spread across Daniel’s face. It appeared to me that I had just saved myself a client.

2

I found one, the text read.

Great. That could only mean one thing. She found another guy to set me up with.

Kendall, who has been my best friend since the third grade, has made it her mission in life to find me the man of my dreams. She worried about me living alone the rest of my life, not experiencing love and motherhood. I was almost convinced, however, that I wasn’t meant to find love and bear a child. Maybe I was put on this earth to simply tell stories; to share stories that could help others reshape their lives.

Kendall didn’t agree with me. She, among others, had told me on more than one occasion that I was way too picky. But here was my thinking: why not be picky? Was it wrong to have high expectations? Was it wrong to want the perfect romance, love at first sight, to be swept away the moment I laid my eyes on a man? Absolutely not! And obviously I wanted the man to know right away that I was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Dammit. Why not?

I ignored the text from Kendall and sat down to work on some freelance writing I had been putting off. The ghostwriting business didn’t exactly send me to Macy’s with unlimited credit. Submitting articles here and there was essential.

After hours of writing about how to make your partner happy in and out of bed, of which I only pretended to be an expert, I was ready to hit the gym. There was a spinning class at the small gym down the street that I liked to go to after work once in a while. I usually couldn’t walk for a couple of days afterwards because I exercised pretty sporadically, but I loved the mindlessness of it all. I always felt so much better after a good workout, and as a bonus, the instructor was super hot.

The instructor was one of those guys who had rippling muscles and a deep tan, always flexing in front of the mirrors, hoping to impress anyone that might be watching. Since joining the gym, I have secretly had a crush on him. Kendall was always teasing me about asking him out, but I was way out of his league. I saw the women he talked to, and they weren’t even in the same category as me. I wasn’t ugly or anything, but I wouldn’t wear a pair of sweats with hottie printed across my butt, if you know what I mean. I was an average, some might say above average, beauty with an average height and weight. Having average printed across my behind wasn’t exactly the mating call I wanted to present to my male suitors.

The hour-long class was all the time I needed. I didn’t waste time stretching or doing crunches before or afterward. If the hot instructor stood next to me while I did everything, I might reconsider. As expected though, right after class he trotted off to help the hot chicks with the fake boobs. Yes, even in a small town there were hot chicks with fake boobs. Those things are everywhere. Even the soccer moms had them. What was this world coming to? I wasn’t certain what my future entailed, but fake boobies were not a part of it. My husband and I would have to relish in the art of old age and watch and enjoy our private parts succumb to gravity.

On my drive home I decided it was time to call Kendall. I was curious who she found this time?

Kendall answered on the fourth ring.

Kody, I’m glad it’s you. You must have gone to the gym today. You should just ask him out already. You don’t know he’ll say no. Without taking a breath, she continued. Anyway, I think I found a promising candidate for the character in your love story.

Kendall wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

Really, Kendall? Is he as promising as the last character you found for me?

There was nothing wrong with Travis. He plans to move out of his parents’ house as soon as he can afford to. He told you that.

Sure, he told me that. He told me that, and he also told me that he was planning to take down the Pam Anderson posters off his walls, box up the high school trophies, and trade in his twin bed for a king. Doesn’t that sound a little weird to you, Kendall?

Well, other than that he’s a decent enough guy. I didn’t know all of that when I introduced the two of you. Let’s not think about Travis right now. I think I found someone better. I have yet to check out his bedroom though.

Who is he?

He’s our company’s newest computer geek.

"Ooooh… you do know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?

Just listen, Kody. I called the IT department this morning to get someone to look at my system because it sucks royally. Two hours later, in walks a cute blond with no ring on his finger. We end up chatting for awhile because I needed to reboot my system several times before the problem was resolved. I hate computer problems by the way. He’s super cute, extremely polite, and the best part of all, he’s single. He moved here from Williams only a few months ago.

Did you already mention me to him?

No! I just met the guy! I still need to ask around the office about him. If that goes well, I say you take your chances on him. Aren’t you lucky to have me for a best friend?

Can you sense how lucky I feel right now?

You love that I interfere with your love life, what there is of it.

Thanks for the sensitivity in the matter.

You know what I mean. I’ve sent a few decent ones your way. What about Kyle? He had everything you were looking for.

Sure. He was a good one. You never know what would have happened if he hadn’t moved. His long, lost daughter appreciates it, I’m sure. Do you remember how awkward that was when he found out he had a child out in Montana?

At least he was taking care of his responsibilities. You could have gone with him. The offer was there. I don’t understand why you can’t take that leap with a man. You are constantly pushing them away rather than reeling them in.

Not true.

How about Gus?

Too chatty.

Ray?

Too bossy.

Ben?

Too cute for his own good.

Jake?

Cute butt. Not my type.

Sam?

Too smelly.

Karl?

Too hairy.

Brendan?

Brendan thought he was in love with me when we met and the man couldn’t hold a conversation if his life depended on it.

Jim?

Kendall, stop! I get the point.

Oh, Kody. Do you see that you find something wrong with every guy?

I’ve heard all of this before, Kendall. I’m working on it! Really, I am!

How are you working on it? Oh, wait. Don’t answer that just yet. Taylor is scraping peas onto the floor and Jason is nowhere to be seen.

Kendall put the phone down and I heard her ask her oldest son, Zachary, where his daddy was. More dinnertime commotion ensued.

Kendall always painted a dismal picture of her family at mealtime. She said she and Jason attempted to talk about their day, while their five-year-old groaned and looked dismally at his plate of food and their two-year-old spilled his milk on the table or threw his food on the floor. Unfortunately, they typically spent their dinnertime feeling frustrated, making false threats, and cleaning up messes.

Speaking of messes, I would