Finding You

By Jennifer Anderson

A long-lost grandfather dies, leaving Jessica Crispin a sizable inheritance. The only catch? She has to find her mom and she only has 30 days to do in order to collect the money.

Enlisting her best friend, Violet Flowers, Jessica sets out on a road trip, following clues left by her father, currently incarcerated for murder. What she learns is that no one is giving her all the information, keeping her in the dark.

Stranded on the side of the road, a hero pulls up with green eyes promising long kisses and dark hair worth pulling. Even after he is long gone, she can’t shake Jackson and doesn’t want to.

Clues in letters from her mother, leads her around three states, and countless miles, until she finds something more than she bargained for.

With a deadline closing in, does Jessica find her mother along with all the answers she craves? Can her dreams come true, allowing her to live happily ever after, or was the journey too much, pulling a single thread of hope, causing her world to unravel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Anderson
• Release date: Nov 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519994882

Book preview

Chapter One

Thursday, May 30

The chair rattled over the concrete floor. The visitor scheduled to chat with me hadn’t yet arrived. A yellow smudged phone hung from a hook on the wall. Tightness bit into my jaw, imagining countless people over the years taking their turns in this same spot, clutching the lifeline in their hands, anguishing over words shared with the person on the other side of the glass. Jail was a hard place to visit. Especially when visiting your father. I’d found out days prior that he would pass through town on his way to prison—where he’d serve twenty-five years of what was left of his life.

I glanced at my watch. Right on time, as usual. Sam, my father, however was notoriously late. Even in jail, he couldn’t stick with a schedule. I shook my arms, forcing the spastic energy from my body. Get it together, Jessica. I needed information, and there was only one person who held the answers I wanted.

To calm my nerves and keep my wits, I pulled in a deep breath, replaying my questions in my head. I came for answers. I wasn’t wasting a trip downtown on my lack of backbone.

My sweaty fingers gripped the strap of my purse. Inside was another piece of paper. Instead of answers, it opened the door to more questions.

Sam’s attorney played on my emotions, telling me I’d more than likely never see him again unless I made the trip south to the prison. As far as I was concerned, watching the judge hand down his sentence in court was enough of a family reunion. The impression remained from my grandmother’s hand gripping mine during the reading. I went for her sake. Hearing of her only son’s cruel actions and following punishment wasn’t something I wanted her to do alone.

But when I received a certified letter in the mail from a lawyer I didn’t know, I had to see my father. I didn’t want to; I needed answers.

Minutes later, a man in an orange jump suit shuffled toward the window. A chain connecting his handcuffs ran the length of his body to a matching pair around his ankles. I guess they didn’t take chances with convicted murderers.

His dark brown eyes remained glued to my face when he sat down. A police officer fiddled with his cuffs and with the soundproof glass. I imagined the clinking of the metal when they connected him to the table. I grabbed the yellow phone, cringing at my earlier thoughts. With joined hands, my father reached up and brought the receiver to his ear. Two seconds of static followed by a beep sounded through the earpiece. My mind raced with scenes from crime shows where the authorities taped every conversation, catching someone admitting to another crime.

Jessica, honey. I’m so glad you came. He smiled, revealing a gold tooth.

Sam, I stated, keeping my voice monotone.

One bushy eyebrow rose. What’s with the first name?

That’s your name, isn’t it?

The gold tooth hid away when his lips fell, turning into a snarl. Whatever. If you are going to be ignorant, why’d you even come?

His eyes remained trained on me, challenging me. Running away made his life easier. I knew the types of mind games he played. Now that he knew he couldn’t pull the Daddy loves you crap, his demeanor changed to the asshole I’d grown referring to as my father.

Except, he was far from a father.

I came to get some answers.

And what makes you think I’m going to give them to you? Or better yet, what if I don’t know nothin’?

My elbows dug into the counter jutting out from the wall. I leaned in close to the glass, making sure he saw my eyes. Oh, you’re going to give them to me, and I’m not falling for your little act.

He nodded, rolling his eyes. Sure. You think you know all about me. Well, you’re wrong. Just because you’re my daughter, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you shit. His words spit against the glass.

Trust me. I know firsthand being your daughter doesn’t mean squat in your book. And why would I think after all these years of you giving me absolutely nothing, you would, out of the kindness in your heart, help me? Because you owe me, and the guilt of not being there is eating at you like an ulcer. You may not want to admit it, but the look on your face when you realized who sat here screamed guilt. I know you asked your lawyer to get me here. You feel bad for all those years, and you should. But today is not the day where you get to ask for absolution. Today is the day where you’re going to act like a man who owes me a huge debt.

He licked his lips, set the phone away from his ear, and let his head fall forward. The yellow receiver tapped against the thinning hair on his head before he sat taller in his seat and focused his attention back on my face.

Besides, you owe Grandma. If nothing else, you’ll answer my questions for her sake.

Static shot across the line from him breathing into the phone. Fine. What do you need to know?

Instead of smiling because of my tiny victory, I raised my head, tightened my spine, and returned his stare. The letter that started my field trip to the county jail now rested in my hands. The information typed within it changed everything in my life in a matter of seconds forcing me to face my fears and ask the tough questions of the one person I hated the most.

Tell me everything you know about my mother.

Sam tapped the receiver against his head again and leveled me with a heated stare. Bees and yellow jackets took turns buzzing in my stomach. Even after the many years of no contact, any connection with him turned me into a little girl. The man had a way of dwindling my strength, so I did my best to keep on my tough girl face. I hid in my bedroom during one of the sparse visits he paid us when I lived with my grandmother. His raised voice and demands to his mother echoed in my ears long after he left. How can someone who meant so little to me and vice versa have so much power over my feelings?

He blew into the phone, and I pulled my end away, avoiding the static. He was drawing this out, and while a small part of me could commiserate with him about my mother, a bigger portion just wanted answers and as many miles as possible between us.

I won’t bore you with the details of how we met. But soon after, she got knocked up with you and now we had to be responsible. Hell, I was only looking for a good time and not a wife and baby around my neck. So I did what I could to provide. But it wasn’t good enough for her and her privileged needs. She came from money and wouldn’t dare contact her father to help us out. She wanted to be on her own but wasn’t willing to put in the effort. So instead of trying to make things work, she went off with some good for nothin’ friends of hers and met another patsy at a bar. I’m not surprised. Your mother was a looker, and everything about her screamed class. He ran a cuffed hand over his face. Damn, she could turn some heads.

Sweat licked my skin, and hearing the brief details did nothing to dampen my need for more information. My memories of her floated in and out of my consciousness with clips of images. Most of them felt like a dream, and if I woke, would it all be gone? Did I make up some of the memories? Whispered words and gentle caresses shared only with me.

I shook away the doubt and focused on the man sitting behind thick glass. Where did she go?

Cincinnati, Ohio. The guy she was shacking up with owned a restaurant. Pal’s or Hal’s... He stared off, focusing on a point of interest behind my head. Oh, I know. Sal’s. She was a waitress there or something.

Did you ever talk to her again?

Just divorce stuff. Why? What’s with all the questions?

Explaining my motives to a practical stranger wasn’t high on my to-do list. Grandma didn’t even know my intentions. She figured I was saying good-bye for the last time and asking questions about my mother. A little girl has a right to know where she came from. Who knows when I’ll get a chance to ask you, and I need to know. No one has ever said anything to me about her.

He cut me off. Because there is nothing that woman can offer you. You didn’t need to know her. My mom took care of everything for you.

Without your help, I shot back. Heat rolled up my spine. He wasn’t going to get to me. Giving him the sick satisfaction I needed something from him was bad enough. Allowing him to affect me was a card I wasn’t willing to give up.

A guard appeared behind him and tapped his watch, whispered something to Sam and moved to the next inmate.

My time is almost up. Did you get what you needed?

No. Enough.

Sam lounged in his chair as much as the short cord on the phone allowed. There’s a box of my things in the basement at the house. There might be some stuff in there worth looking through. It might help you find whatever it is you think you need to know. A pause stretched on his end, and I waited because I could see he wasn’t done with me yet. How’s my mom?

Fine. Worried. Emotions I never understood. Why care for someone who only caused you pain?

You better take care of her while I’m in here.

You mean like I have been my entire life?

His devilish smirk soured my stomach. Smart mouth. Just like your mother. In fact, you look a lot like her.

I wouldn’t know. Not a single picture hung or hid away in my grandmother’s house of the women who gave birth to me. Did she ever ask about me when you were officially separating?

It was out there. I asked the one question I craved to know the answer to.

Sam tucked the phone against his shoulder and rubbed the graying stubble scattered across his chin. Why does it matter?

Because it does, I snapped, tears burning in my throat. Did she ever ask about me? Try and get in touch with me? My voice rose, and I didn’t care if others heard.

Come on, Jess.

I leaned closer to the glass. A single tear streaked down my cheek. Tell me.

No.

Chapter Two

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The ride from downtown Clayton proved brutal. Summertime in St. Louis meant humid unpredictable weather and road construction. Even with one major thoroughfare torn up, the rest of the highways and side streets suffered the same consequences.

I’d only been home two weeks from college, and already my life had taken an unexpected turn. With my father’s trial, transfer and now a long-lost relative to find, I landed smack dab in the middle of many places to be with few resources at my disposal.

Heat bore down on my tiny Honda. I was almost broke so I settled on driving with the windows down. I hung up with the mysterious, certified letter lawyer informing him of my plans. He assured me he’d transfer money into my account that day. Until then, windows were my only option. Already, late May’s ninety-degree temperature wrapped me in its humid blanket.

After an hour in the hot box on wheels, my grandmother’s driveway shined like a beacon along a foggy shore. Inside her house, I fell into the closest club chair, and threw my feet up on an ottoman. My cell phone buzzed with a new message from Violet.

BRthere.

Hello, sweetheart. How was your visit? Grandma Bernice asked, holding a white dishtowel in her hands. Her petite body eased onto the corner of the ottoman. Did you see him?

Along with all the features I associated with my grandmother, her hands were one of my favorites. When I was little, they held onto me when we crossed the street. They brushed my hair twining the long brown locks into a braid. Her hands created stomach-filling meals and knitted colorful blankets. Her once slender fingers were now thick with arthritis, though she still wore the same mauve polish, chipped around the edges.

Yes. One of her hands touched my crossed ankles giving the top one a squeeze.

How did he look? A crack in her voice dragged my head up from my phone.

The past few months leading up to his trial proved stressful on my grandmother. Nationwide, every news outlet ran the story of an armed bank robber shooting and killing a security guard. Luckily, my grandmother’s last name was different from my dad’s, so unless someone knew our family, putting two and two together often led to five instead of four.

Tears threatened to spill over her lids. Since I’d been home, the mention of his name brought out the same emotions, breaking my heart for her all over again each time. He didn’t deserve her love or tears. But I wasn’t going to cause her additional anguish. Unlike me, who’d given up on the idea of a good-hearted man who’d eventually see the error in his ways, my grandmother held on and prayed.

He looked like normal. Orange really isn’t his color.

My attempt at a joke placed a smile across her face, which I hoped made the image of my father behind a glass window easier to digest. Knowing what he’d done reversed my sense of sadness for him. The family of the security guard he’d killed was forever without.

Well, good. What did he say?

I needed time to think about the conversation, especially the news about my mom’s rejection. I’ll tell you when Violet gets here, but let’s say what he told me involves a road trip.

Road trip? Great. When do we leave? Violet called after shutting the front door. My grandmother held an open-door policy. Besides, Violet was more like a sister than a friend. My house was her house and vice versa.

Wait a minute, you two. Where and why do you think you need to go anywhere? Besides, Jessica, you just came home for the summer. I haven’t had enough time with you yet. My grandmother sat taller, holding me in place with her stare.

Grandma Bernice pursed her lips before sucking them between her teeth. Worry deepened the lines in her forehead. Taking her hands into mine, relieving the dishtowel from her torturous hold, I scooted forward in the chair, dropping my feet from the footrest. Listen, Grandma, I have to do this. I want answers. Besides, Violet will be with me, and it isn’t like we’re little girls anymore. I’m almost twenty, and we can handle a quick trip to Cincinnati. It’s only five hours away. We might stay a night or two and then right back here, and we can go on enjoying the summer.

Did you talk to Maureen at the coffeehouse to make sure she won’t need you? my grandmother asked.

I nodded, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. My summer job provided all the money I needed to help supplement the loans I received for my tuition. Hourly pay wasn’t much, but the tip jar overflowed when I worked. I attributed it to flirting with both sexes. I was an equal opportunity tip-acceptor.

Violet clapped, jumping on the tips of her toes. Oh, goodie. I’ve never been to Ohio. Don’t they have something called a buckeye there? When do we leave?

As soon as we get a bag packed we hit the road. I want to get there and get back. I patted my grandmother’s hand, stood, and looked at Violet. Do you think your parents will be okay with you leaving today in like an hour? The black hand ticked off the seconds on my watch. The timepiece was a present from my grandmother when I graduated eighth grade. I only took it off to shower or swim. I passed many minutes watching the hands tick by while sitting in classes my freshmen year of college. Now it was going on another trip with me.

My parents? You obviously have forgotten who you’re talking to. They will be thrilled to get rid of me because all I’ve done since coming home from college is eat, watch TV, dirty up clothes and dishes, and borrow money.

Mr. and Mrs. Flowers were wonderful. Their laid-back, free-spirited nature was evident, along with a sense of humor when they named Violet. Her mother was a children’s book author, never really hitting Barbara Park status but enjoying the journey each book provided from conception to print. She said it was therapeutic. Her father was a high school teacher and basketball coach. Both let Violet blossom, so to speak, and in turn, she never gave them a worry, even when we came up with crazy ideas like driving across two states to find a woman I’d never met.

Violet nodded. I’ll meet you at my house in, like, thirty minutes.

Then she returned the way she had come.

I guess I better pack you girls a cooler with drinks and snacks so you don’t have to stop. Grandma halted and turned around. On second thought, you better not stop. I mean, I know you two are together, but try not to stop unless you need gas and it’s well lit. And stay away from rest areas. They may seem innocent, but I watched on a news show that sometimes those places are a beacon for prostitutes. She paced some more. Stopped and turned. Maybe I should come.

No, I shouted louder than expected. A deep breath filled my lungs ratcheting down my emotions. Finding out my father was in town and receiving a certified letter from a lawyer, my stress and anxiety hit an all-time high. Grandma. We’ll be fine. I appreciate your help, but I’m not a kid anymore, and I need to do this. I closed the space between us and placed my hands along her arms. Now, I’m going to pack and jump on the computer to print off some directions. You fix us a cooler. Placing a kiss on her forehead, I turned and walked toward my bedroom, stopping short when I came to the basement steps. Remembering what my father told me, I descended the stairs hoping he hadn’t been lying about what I’d find.

An hour and a half later, Violet’s feet propped against my dash before I turned onto the highway. She dug into the small red cooler and freed a diet soda from inside. So, are you going to tell me what exactly we’re doing and what Sam said? Violet knew I had daddy issues and calling him by his first name helped.

Yeah, thanks for not asking me around my grandma. You know how she is with him. She loves him and knows he’s an ass, but I guess because he’s her son she has a soft spot. A ray of hope he’ll turn around.

So, she rotated her wrist motioning me to get on with my story. Did it totally suck going there? You know I would’ve gone.

I know. I glanced at my best friend. Her dark hair blew around her head from the open window. Large, black sunglasses shielded her eyes not only from the sun but also from the blasting wind. I appreciate that. But this was something I had to do on my own.

She turned, angling her body toward mine. Was it like they show it in the movies?

Kind of. I mean there was a glass between us, and we talked through a phone. But no amount of movie watching prepared me for the wreck it caused my emotions. To see him in there. Yes, it was his fault, and he totally deserved to be there if not worse, but a small part of my childhood dreams for the perfect daddy died today.

As a kid, I never wanted to imagine my parents as anything more than great. Like super heroes. With my mother MIA and now my father transferring to a high-level prison, my hopes of an ideal life weighed on my shoulders. So I told him he owed me after he tried pulling his ‘I don’t know nothing’ crap.

Good for you.

Thanks. I explained to Violet the tumultuous conversation I had with my father. I left out the tears and his snide remarks and stuck with the facts. She absorbed what I said, letting me have