Talk to Me Dad!

By Pete Williams

Over 200,000 children are objects of parental abduction each year in the US. Many times physical and sexual abuse are involved.  The question most of us never have to face is "How far would we go, to find our child". The Scott Meredith Literary Agency says  "...Talk to Me Dad, a deeply troubling novel of child abuse, brutalization and revenge… this novel… has been a particular pleasure to read; we've been touched by many of its components, particularly your courage in telling a story of this disturbing nature. You manage to effectively combine relentlessness with sensitivity in your presentation, and that's no small feat."  An in-depth mystery that addresses parental love, brotherly love, love for parents and even romance. As one reader said, "After reading your book, I could close my eyes and it was just like a movie playing in my mind."

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: RyeCal Publishers
• Release date: Apr 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988132257

Pete Williams

As with many writers, Pete Williams draws from a wide variety of experiences. Quite regularly, someone asks if there is anything he has not done. Some of the positions he has held include: serving those with special needs, carpenter, groundskeeper (of a ball diamond), farmer, data entry clerk, fine dining waitress, editor, columnist, taxi driver, truck driver, pastor, salesman, single parent...Pete Williams spent several months working as a Red Cross volunteer for several hurricanes.

Book preview

The clock showed 3:35.  A sound had awakened him.  He put on his robe and stepped into the hall.  Soft crying came from the next room.  He gently knocked on the door as he opened it.  She laid there, one hand grasping the cover as she pulled it tight against her neck, the other arm wrapped around her teddy.  Tears were rolling down the side of her face.

What’s wrong?

I, I had a dream.

Do your want to tell me about it? as he sat beside her on

the bed, laying his hand on hers.

Softly sobbing, she whispered,

I, I...I dreamed that you died!

1

The day had been productive.  There were still a couple of hours of daylight left.  Jim had finished disking early, preparing a seed bed for planting. He was headed for the house. The tractor he drove was a monster of a machine.  The four tractor tires on the front axle were as tall as a man.  On the rear axle were four more just as mammoth.  The tractor swiveled in the middle to turn.  The cab of the tractor was temperature controlled for all-weather comfort.  Instead, Jim had propped the doors wide open.  A warm south breeze carrying the smell of spring lifted Jim’s spirits.  After a long cold winter, he was anxious to start planting for another growing season.

Jim slowed down as he crossed a narrow bridge.  He could see the homestead down the lane.  An old large barn stood to the far left, silos for grain storage were behind the barn and two large machine sheds on the other side surrounded a large grass covered manicured barnyard.  On the right side of the lane stood a two-story farmhouse with an old-fashioned porch that stretched the full length of two sides.  His parents had lived there.  This farmstead was the only home he had ever known.

Jim pulled into the barnyard circling so he could look out over the south pasture.  His cattle were grazing contently on the other side of the creek.  Little calves were nursing as mother cows grazed, slowly moving across the field.  Tomorrow, he would move the herd to another pasture.  Now that calving was over, the brood cows didn’t need to be so close to the house.  After moving the cows, he needed to take the truck to town and pick up seed corn.  If the weather held, next week he would start planting corn.  Jim shut down the tractor.

Sobbing, Convulsing Screams floated across the yard from the house.  Jim jumped from the tractor hitting the ground running.  Long strides, like those of a distance runner, carried him quickly across the barnyard, then across the yard to the house.  He cleared the porch steps with one step and jerked the screen door open.  Stepping inside he stopped, momentarily blinded by the darkness inside. 

She gradually came into view.  Her hair was piled high on her head, tightly wound around large curlers. White cream covered her face.  A cigarette dangled from her lips.  Her eyes never left the romance novel she was reading.  She just sat there in her chair.

Gasping, Sobbing, Convulsing Screams came from down the hall.  Jim groped down the darkened hall, eyes struggling to adjust from the bright sunlight outside.  He reached the bathroom door ... pushed it open.  Hot steam billowed out at him, obscuring his view.  Screams, Sobbing Screams.  Jim searched for the shower handles, found them, then turned the scalding water off.  As he lifted her out of the tub, her uncontrollable sobbing continued.  Jim grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. Blisters were already forming on skin reddened by the steaming water. 

Back down the hall, he screamed at his wife.  She can barely walk and you ... you...you put her in a scalding shower!!

She shit her pants, got to potty train her some way. 

Are you ok?

Jim looked up, momentarily frozen in thought.  Yeah, little more coffee, please.

The waitress filled his cup.  Whole wheat, dry? she asked, Two eggs over easy, bacon crisp?

Jim nodded yes.  But wait a few minutes, I’m not hungry yet.

The restaurant had been part of some forgotten chain at one time.  Now it was a mom-and-pop operation.  Facing the kitchen, a long counter with stools stretched the full length.  A row of booths ran along the windows.  The windows started at floor level and reached to the ceiling. Jim sat in a booth and the cold radiated from the full-length windows.  He wondered why anyone would build a building with so many windows.  Frost covered the windows except for a little space at the top where the heat had risen, what little heat there was in the restaurant.  Jim still had his coat on. 

The winter had been bitter.  Snow that had fallen before Christmas had never melted.  There had been more snow in January and now in the middle of February there still was no relief from the below freezing temperatures.

Are you ready now?

Jim nodded yes.  Did you get me a paper last night?

No.  When I came to work, they were all gone.

Okay.  Why do you work the graveyard shift anyway?

I’m going to school at the University here in Lawrence.  My folks died some years ago and left me a small farm; but I don’t get enough income from the farm to pay my tuition and live too, so I have to work.

What are you taking?

I’m studying to be a CPA.  This is my last year.  Been five years and this spring it will finally be over.  I can hardly wait.

Jim pulled out a map of Kansas as she left to place his order.  He spread it out on the tabletop.  Each route that he had covered was marked with a yellow marker for when he traveled it in the morning.  When he covered that road in the afternoon or evening, he would mark with a red marker.  The red would overshadow the yellow and he would know that he had covered that road.  This way he could check places on his return trip that didn’t open in the mornings.  Most of the roads around Lawrence had already been marked with both colors.  Already he was traveling far enough from his base in Lawrence that sometimes he would spend the night at the far end of the trip and then come back the following day.  He was considering moving his base.  He had never stayed in one place and traveled this far away from his base; instead choosing to stay in a new town as he systematically covered every road and byway.  Deep down he knew that the reason he had stayed so long in Lawrence had something to do with the waitress.  She served him well, never pried, wasn’t over friendly, and she was the only face he had seen on a regular basis in years.  How long had it been now?

Here’s your order, sir.

I’m not really comfortable with ‘sir’.

I don’t know your name.

It’s Jim.

Ok, Jim.  Here’s your order.

I guess I don’t know yours either.

Connie.  She stuck out her hand and he shook it.

Better late than never, I guess.  How long have you been coming in here anyway?

I guess about three months.

Are you a salesman?

No.

Jim reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a picture.

Have you ever seen this woman?

Connie looked at the picture, Not that I can remember.  Why?  Are you looking for her?

Jim never answered.  He started on his breakfast.

As Jim left the restaurant, the sun was starting to come up. He walked out to his pickup truck.  He had left the motor running.  He opened the door.

Scoot over, big boy.  I’m spoiling you.  Dogs like you shouldn’t have to have a warm cab to sit in.

2

Another day, another line marked in red.  Now he returned to his base.  The motel where he was staying was past its prime. It, like the restaurant, had at one time been part of a chain.  Whatever chain the motel had belonged to had either went out of business or built a more modern unit.  An older couple had taken the motel over, trying to live out their retirement years in relative ease.  There were two long rows of units that curved around in a half circle.  Jim had requested a room on the backside.  Most motels wouldn’t allow dogs.  He would never mention the fact he had a dog.  Since he left before sunrise and got back after dark, sneaking his dog into the room was not a problem.

The cleaning lady had turned off the heat and the room was bitter cold.  Jim turned the knob of the steam-heat radiator to high. The pipes thumped and banged from the metal expanding as they filled with steam.  Jim went to the bathroom and got one of the cellophane wrapped plastic glasses. Tearing off the cellophane, he then opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of 1889 whiskey.  He twisted the cap off the bottle.  He couldn’t remember when he had stopped buying the more expensive stuff. When the taste meant less than the result, he guessed.  He poured a glass.  Then tipped the glass up and slowly drained the liquid within.  The liquid spread warmth through his insides.  He sat down in the broken-down armchair beside the radiator.  He could feel the coils of the chair through the imitation leather cushion.  Warmth continued to radiate through him even though the room was still cold.  He poured another glass.

––––––––

Jim could remember when a half pint would suffice. Then a pint was a necessity.  Now, a fifth wouldn’t put him to sleep.  He had another half pint, but he would save that bottle.  That half pint would start his day the next morning.

Jim looked out the window at the full moon crossing the sky.  The snow reflected the light.  It was almost as bright as day, but cold reflecting from the snow making him shiver. He checked to make sure the valve on the radiator heater was completely open.  He shivered.  Husky lay curled up on his feet.

There were tears in her eyes.

Dad, it hurts!

I know, but we have to.

How much longer?

They will operate again in a couple of months.

The last time it hurt worse.

I know.  And it will again, but if we don’t, then you won’t be able to straighten your arms or even be able to walk.

––––––––

Her face and hands had escaped the disfiguring burns, but the rest of her body was scarred.  Every night he helped her stretch her arms and legs as much as possible.  Scar tissue tightened without this daily exercise.  She was a brave girl and tears would form in her eyes before she would say she couldn’t take any more.  Then he would hold her tight as tears ran down his face.

The moon had passed overhead, out of sight.  Jim looked at his watch, two A.M.  He would be up at five or five-thirty without an alarm clock.  He poured his last glass of ‘89.  The room was still cold.  He tipped the glass and drained the bitter liquid without stopping.

Husky, you can sleep with me, but only because its cold.  Now don’t go getting used to it.

Jim lay across the bed without undressing.  Husky curled up beside him.

He was awake at five.  He poured a glass of ‘89, drained it; and then lit a cigarette while waiting for his system to begin functioning.  After his second cigarette, he dragged himself out of the chair and struggled to the bathroom.  Looking into the mirror, he saw dark circles under his eyes. The crease between his eyebrows was ever deepening.

Need to shave.

He rubbed the back of his hand against the stubble on his chin.  Every day he found it harder and harder to shave, even to shower.  He found himself wearing the same clothes for days on end.  At least, it wasn’t summer, and he didn’t smell.  Jim ran water in the sink to shave.  After a few minutes, the water ran warm, but never became hot.  He soaked his beard anyway.  The razor pulled.  He cut his chin. He only turned on the hot water for a quick shower.  The water was lukewarm at best.  He finished off the half pint and finally felt some warmth in his body. 

The snow crunched under his feet as he walked to the truck.  Husky crawled in on his side as he opened the door of the pickup.  He left the motor running when he went into the