Andrea Millhouse

__________ 19 __________

...Esther Barnhart ...is unavailable; please leave a message after the tone...

"Good morning Esther, my name is Tim Donavon; I am the oldest son of Lovisa Donavon. As I'm sure you're aware ...we lost Mom a little over a year and a half ago. We have since settled her estate, and while going through her personal effects have found your phone number listed in several places. I believe Mom knew you through the Al-Anon family group - Come As You Are. I was hoping that my significant other and I could sit down with you sometime and perhaps talk about Mom; we will be in Seattle in the near future. There are still some questions we have surrounding her personal life and we are seeking all of the friends, which she held dear, that may be able to enlighten us. I can be reached at ..." I then gave my phone number and ended with the words Thank You.

-- Worth a try I guess, I thought to myself as I hung up the phone.

I set down the Al-Anon schedule, which was dated two thousand seventeen, and began looking at the photograph of the girl once more as I continued to towel myself dry. I was currently sitting at Mom's antique vanity, which I had given to Andrea when Mom's house had been demolished the year before. Sipping my coffee now, I studied the girl in the photograph. This was the one photo that made absolutely no sense to any of us, whatsoever.

The photo was odd to begin with because it had been taken at the very beginning of the roll of film or at the very end of the roll and was more or less a three quarter frame. Sometimes with nineteen sixties and earlier rolls of thirty five millimeter film, a photo that was taken at the very beginning of the roll or at the very end would appear, more or less, somewhere between the next conjoining frame of the film itself. This occurrence was rare and usually only happened at one end of the roll. It wasn't a double exposure, per say, but really more of an involuntary "crop." Such was the case with this photograph.

The photograph showed a considerable amount of amateur talent on the part of the photographer and the subject, alike. The girl in the picture was stunning and knew how to present herself for the camera. Obviously Rick Sheffield had taken the photo; the angle and lighting were perfect and captured the girl's best features all at once. Taken at a forty five degree angle of her rear side, the girl had her head tilted back and her left hand perched upon her hip as she looked into the camera from over her left shoulder with a very seductive expression. She wore tall Go-Go Boots with heels and sported black leather short pants with a tiger striped vest. None of us had really paid much attention to this particular photo and there were no annotations associated with the picture either.

"The Wild Card, again, Tim?" Andrea asked, wrapping herself in a towel and emerging from the bathroom and sitting next to me.

"...(sigh)... yeah, where the hell does she fit into the scheme of things, Andrea?" I asked for the millionth time, referring to the "wild card," as we had since dubbed the photo.

"I don't know, Tim, but she's got legs clear up to her ass, that's for sure. What do you think, twenty seven?" Andrea asked sipping the coffee that I had set out for her, upon the vanity.

"I would dial her in somewhere around there yes, twenty six or twenty seven years old, I think. She's Korean ...pretty girl." I said sipping my own coffee and admiring the long black hair.

"Let me see" Andrea said reaching for the photo and studying it with the magnifying glass then.

"Why is there, only, just this one photo of her? Who is she?" I asked frustrated.

"I don't know but she's modeled before, that's obvious ...she's also blitzed out of her mind in this photo" Andrea replied studying the girl's eyes.

"I've noticed that ...anyone who can remember the sixties - wasn't there, Andrea" I replied with finality.

"I wish we knew which Seattle night club that she's standing in front of" Andrea replied.

"It's probably long gone by now, honey. Maybe someone will eventually recognize the band in that poster, Andrea" I said referring to the paper advertisement in front of the girl with "SEATTLE" in bold block letters at the top. The band and club's names were both blocked by the girl, herself

"There were probably thousands of them printed, Tim" Andrea replied.

"Maybe it's not even a nightclub that she's standing in front of, maybe it was a coffee shop or who knows what else" I concurred.

"There's such a deep sadness within her eyes, I wonder why? She's such a pretty girl; it's tragic that she should be so deeply saddened. Andrea observed, looking closely at the girl's eyes with the magnifying glass.

"Yes, I wonder if Rick was working for her or if she was modeling for him, perhaps, like a photo contest or something." I replied.

"...No, I don't think it was a professional relationship of any kind, Tim. There's, what I would call, yearning in her eyes as well as trust and those are very hard to fake, even for a top model. The girl in this photo is preening but she's preening for the cameraman which we know was Rick. Maybe she was a girlfriend at one time, which makes the most sense to me when I look at this photo." Andrea said, looking up at me.

"Yes the camera work is definitely Rick Sheffield's, no doubt about it" I said looking over at the photo.

"Tim, did it ever occur to you that maybe Rick and Lovey just simply broke-up and ended their relationship and that maybe he's even still alive?" Andrea suddenly asked.

"No way, Andrea, Mom would never have kept the letter or the jewelry box in that case. Nor would she have buried the photos within her garden either, her garden was sacred, Andrea. The more I think about it, the more I believe that Mom must have been close to a nervous breakdown after Rick's loss which would explain why she buried the photographs in her garden to begin with. If it had been a break-up, Mom would simply have returned the photos or thrown them away" I replied.

"Yeah, that makes more sense ...Did you call Esther?" Andrea asked, setting the photo down and standing.

"Left a message" I replied.

"Honey, let's leave the photos here and forget about them, for now, OK" Andrea suggested.

"Yes" I replied, also standing.

"C'mere, love you" Andrea said as she kissed me.

"Love you too, honey" I replied, smiling.

Andrea and I proceeded to get dressed and then refilled our coffee cups. Sitting at the kitchen bar we each chewed on a cinnamon roll in silence then. I was excited about going to Lake Havasu with Andrea and Hans this morning, a little time playing with antique vehicles would be a nice change of pace for us. Andrea had her camera equipment ready to go and she was now dressed in her tomboy clothes, she wanted to YouTube our little adventure with Hans and his grandson Owen, whom we had yet to meet.

Brenda had been helping Andrea establish a YouTube page and the two were always discussing video ideas, techniques and various camera equipment. Brenda, Andrea had informed me, actually made money on YouTube. Apparently this was done through something called "The Partner Program" and involved the advertisement banners at the beginning of each video which Brenda selected to "Monetize." The man Rick Sheffield would have loved YouTube I suddenly thought as the doorbell rang.

"That should be Hans; I'll get the door, Tim. Finish your cinnamon roll, honey" Andrea said as I started to rise up off the bar stool.

"Good morning, Hans, come in and have some coffee and a cinnamon roll with us, please" I heard Andrea say.

"Mornin', Andrea, thank you that would be nice." Hans replied.

"Good morning Hans" I said turning my head as Hans walked into the room.

"Hey Tim, good morning" Hans said, pulling up a dining room chair and sitting to my right.

I reached over the counter and handed the plate of cinnamon rolls to Hans as Andrea poured him a cup of coffee.

"Should be a nice day to do some work" I said, glancing out the window.

"Owen is really excited about this project, Tim, and I've already shown him the photos of the cars you've built over the years" Hans elaborated.

"This one is a nineteen fifty Chevy short bed, Hans?" I asked, in reference to Owen's truck.

"Fifty one, yes short bed with corner windows." Hans replied with a mouth full of cinnamon roll.

"Lot of room under the hood to work with on one of those, a V8 transplant in the fifty trucks is a cake walk. I've done one or two V8 swaps in those. The actual designation of that truck model was The Advance Design Series" I said, thinking back over the years.

"I bought a brand new one in nineteen fifty three, in Helena Montana; it was a turquoise green, pretty truck too." Hans replied, opening his phone and showing me Owen's truck.

"We're fortunate that there is no rust in this part of the Country" I said, looking at the photo and nodding my head.

"Oh, by the way, I talked with Les, last night, and Andrea's Ford coup is on its way now" Hans informed us.

"I know, Randy called last night and told us. Les mentioned that he's planning to have the motor in the Kenworth redone in Edmonton, I think, when he goes through Canada this time, Hans." I said in reply.

"Calgary not Edmonton, Sid Hall does all of Les's work. They've known each other for forty years, Tim. I think Les is about halfway convinced to have a new clutch and a remanufactured eighteen speed transmission installed at the same time." Hans said sipping his coffee.

I nodded my head and said nothing in reply.

"Man ...that's some of the best coffee, I've had in a long time" Hans said, taking a sip from his cup.

"Honey, show Hans your coffee machine. Andrea's machine grinds the beans for each individual cup, Hans." I said, looking at Andrea.

Andrea walked into the kitchen and slid the machine closer to her.

"Each individual packet is for one cup, just select which flavor you want, dump the beans in the grinder, then put the grinds into the strainer and push BREW and a away ya go!" Andrea said showing each individual feature.

"Andrea only uses bottled water too, Hans" I said.

"Good coffee is one thing that I won't compromise on, Hans" Andrea said looking at us.

"Where do you get a machine like that?" Hans asked.

"I got this one in Vegas a few years ago but I've seen them in Bullhead, they're not cheap though" Andrea replied.

"I may need to get one, that's awfully good joe" Hans said, looking at his coffee cup.

Thirty minutes later the three of us piled in Andrea's BMW and set off. Hans and I were up front with me driving while Andrea rode in the back. Half way along the route we decided to stop for breakfast before proceeding onward to Lake Havasu and Owen's house. The restaurant we had chosen was a national chain and recognized as family establishment. The food was good and there were always specials on kid's meals within the menu for families on a budget. The walls and seats were decorated with bright colored fabrics and materials that were easy to keep clean as well as being indestructible. Upon entering, a young waitress led us to our table and handed us each a menu. A few minutes later she returned with a coffee pot. She was a young redhead around the age of thirty and reminded me of Patti Anderson, our real-estate friend in Anchorage.

- I need to call her and say hello, I suddenly thought.

A young couple with two boys, both around the age of seven, sat one table away from us I now noticed. Neither of the two adults looked like they had yet celebrated their thirtieth birthday and the entire family seemed to be enjoying their meal together. "Quality time" as Mom would have said smiling, undoubtedly. Mom would have adored seeing the young family together and would most likely have engaged in friendly conversation with the family throughout one point of the meal; she always had, whenever a young family had been in close proximity to her.

A few minutes later we placed our orders with the waitress and I glanced briefly at the young man as he sat beside his wife. He was in good physical shape and dressed in rugged outdoor work clothes, maybe a cowboy, warehouseman, carpenter or construction worker, I thought. Leaning towards his wife then, the young man suddenly kissed her on the lips. ...Mom always said that the healthiest thing a man can ever do for his children is flirt openly with their mother.

I suddenly tried to imagine Ricky and me, at the ages of six and nine, sitting in the restaurant booth with Mom and Rick Sheffield. What would it have been like to have seen a strong, gentle man kissing Mom romantically like that, I wondered? I unexpectedly felt a strong pain in my heart. Not the pain of losing a woman or the death of a friend ...yet it was still the pain of loss never the less. I never got to see Rick Sheffield flirting with my beautiful mother and I wish I had. I never got to see my mother swept off her feet, I never got to see her in love.

As Andrea and Hans began talking about coffee machines and where to purchase them, I abruptly thought of Mark, when Andrea and I had visited him at his Wyoming home and enquiring if he had known the man, Rick Sheffield, in Vietnam. During our visit, Mark had asked the pointed question "Discovering who this man was, is really that important to you?"

...Yes it most certainly is I thought, watching the young family in the booth beside us now.

The boy's mother was now wiping jam from the cheeks of the smaller boy and asking him if was ready to go help his dad and brother work on the John Deere that afternoon? Rick Sheffield had been a hot rod enthusiast, I reflected while I continued to watch the young lady wiping her son's face. I envisioned Mom asking Ricky or me if we were ready to go help Rick work on his forty one Plymouth as she wiped jam off one of our faces. The young mom that I was now looking at was slender and attractive with long chestnut hair tied in a blue ribbon, similar in style to Karen's, giving the impression that she could be a Kansas farm girl, solid, dependable and pure in heart.

The expression in the young mother's eyes suddenly made me think of Mom. An extremely strong revelation then abruptly came upon me now like a bolt of lightning ...a revelation that suddenly shook me to my very core. I closed my own eyes and rubbed my forehead. I suddenly understood something about Mom which had puzzled me for many years now, I suddenly understood simply by watching the girl wiping jam off her son's face.

Fearing that I might become emotional now, I quickly got up without speaking and made my way to the restroom. Standing at the sink, I turned on the Fawcett and wetted a paper towel with cold water. I closed my eyes and began to scrub my face with the cold towel as I recollected looking into my mother's eyes for the last time on the day she had left us. To her last hour on earth, the eyes had been kind and gentle. She had caressed my cheek as I had peered deeply into her eyes with tears in my own. I had gone to Mom's side to comfort her but she had instead, comforted me. Even on her last day within this life, my mother had been the adult and I, the child.

I continued scrubbing my face with the towel.

Her last act of selflessness had been that of consoling her fifty three year old man-child. I slung the wet towel into the waste basket completely disgusted with myself. I got a fresh towel from the dispenser and began to dry my face before composing myself in front of the mirror, I then walked back to the booth where Hans and Andrea where seated and sat down again.

When I had turned forty five years old, I began gradually over the course of time to realize that there was a deep wound within my mother's eyes which she had always kept hidden from us. Yet, try as I might, I had been unable to understand this deep sadness, a sadness which Mom would vehemently deny whenever asked. Now, after watching the young mother clean her son's face in the booth next to us, I abruptly understood what the pain within my mother's eyes had been. The remembrance of looking into my mother's eyes and seeing her pain within, now broke my heart with my sudden understanding...

"Eyes are the window to the heart" Mom would always tell Ricky and me, growing up.

My mother's eyes had been a deep and lovely shade of brown, like a doe's eyes. Her eyes had witnessed the Great Depression as well as the Dust Bowl, later they had been witness to the rise and fall of Adolf Hitler and the horrible destruction of the Axis powers amidst the carnage of war. My mother's eyes had also beheld utter joy with the birth of her two children and the sensual love of a strong and kindly man that she had once known and adored, in Rick Sheffield.

The photographs of the two of them together revealed this love in great detail. My mother's eyes also never lost sight of The Good Carpenter whom she had revered as The Prince of Peace throughout her entire life. I surmised with strong conviction within my own heart that she was now looking into His eyes as well as those of Rick Sheffield...

As a child, I had always looked to my mother's beautiful brown eyes for protection, guidance and later, permission when pertaining to certain things as an adolescent. As I grew older I sought the brown eyes for their strength, wisdom and reassurance whenever I was afraid or filled with self doubt. The brown eyes were always steady, never wavering, I remembered. They could at times, be hard and cynical yet most often they were gentle and brimming with joy, seeing only the beauty within life and in all living things.

During the last five years of her life, Mom had turned her brown eyes to me for her own guidance, strength and wisdom. -A guidance, strength and wisdom which I felt I didn't have to offer her. I had suddenly gone from being the one protected, to the protector and this had frightened me. My fear had not been for my own well being ...my fear had stemmed from the "Good-bye" which was, by then, becoming evident within my mother's eyes... Regardless, there had always been love within the brown eyes and that's what I would always remember.

I continued watching the young mother, eating her food now, and thought of how she had cleaned her youngest son's face. With this small and selfless act of motherly love, a complete stranger had revealed to me what had eluded me for so long. One of my own unanswered and age old questions had now been abruptly answered, brutally and with blatant honesty to me -- I now understood the pain that I had seen inside my mother's eyes. ...I remembered the way my mother's eyes had appeared to me when-

" - Honey, are you listening to me?" Andrea now asked, nudging my arm and bringing me back to the present moment.

Following the earlier example of the young man in the booth next to us, I leaned down and kissed Andrea on the lips "Yes I am honey..." I replied to her surprise.

"Oh, ah well then ...uh, you don't mind if we go back and stop at that garage sale we saw, a few miles back, then do you?" Andrea asked, a little star struck from my unexpected display of public affection.

"I would like that, Andrea" I replied, as the waitress returned with our food.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that, Tim. ...I can't help it, Hans, when there's a garage sale -- then we need to stop" Andrea said simply and holding up her empty palm while biting into a piece of toast with her eyes going back and forth from me to Hans.

"No argument from me, Andrea -- Syrup please, thank you Hon." Hans said to the waitress, while nodding his head at Andrea and cutting into his pancakes.

"I'm so excited about the green car arriving!" Andrea suddenly said, changing subjects while simultaneously shaking her head "No" to more coffee offered by the waitress.

"I remember when you could buy one of those deuce coups for twenty five dollars, when I was a kid. There were lots of them in junkyards then and a lot of guys would fix them up and race them." Hans said, reflecting.