Thank you FD45, for your comment and the inspiration to do this.
A sad tale of missed signals and opportunities. No sex, just pain, redemption, and love.
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"Greetings all. This is Barbara Barnes Perkins of Book Report on PBS. I'd like to welcome an old friend, someone who helped launched my career in radio and later television. He's written three best sellers, including his last, The Apology."
"As I said, he's a dear friend, the godfather of my first born, my relief when I go on vacation, a still sought after public speaker and essayist. Ladies and gentlemen, Joe Williams."
She was at a table, similar to the one Charlie Rose used through the years when he had his PBS show. When he moved back to commercial television, she became his replacement, putting her own spin on the broadcast. Joe was seated across from her.
This broadcast was different. It wasn't in studio, but was live in the auditorium of Mountain State, just a few miles from his home. It was a benefit for the school. It was packed. Tickets had actually been scalped for three to four times the original cost before the university clamped down.
"Well, Joe, to quote Yogi Berra, it's deja vu all over again."
He smiled sadly and made a small joke.
"Yeah, Babs, we have to stop meeting like this. How's Mike?"
"Still with me. Being a first time Dad was interesting, but he picked up on it pretty quick. When our third came along he seemed almost bored. But he loves us just as much as we do him. Life is good."
"I'm glad for you."
"Thanks."
She paused. For the first time in her life she wasn't anxious to start an interview. This man was her friend, and the pain he had gone through recently was almost too much for him to bear. He was quieter now, less prone to smile. Her heart went out to him.
"Before we start talking about you latest book, give us an update on the Annie Foundation."
He smiled, happy with the subject.
"As you remember, it started out with the original group corresponding. First came the website, then the blog. Before we knew it, it had spiraled out to something much more."
"When more women started joining, Jane and Anne realized it had gone past their ability to control. They turned it into a foundation, not just to help members, but any woman who needed it. They still run it, with help from professionals. I can't overemphasize the good they've done."
Babs read off a list.
"Scholarships, business loans akin to the African micro loan program, medical clinics for women, the list goes on and on.
"You know I'm a member, Anne 6537. I also sit on the regional advisory board."
" I also mentored Wendy Thomas, Annie 499. She got her associate degree, and now runs the quality control department at Apex. It's the only place she's ever worked. She says she owes her whole life to you."
Joe blushed slightly.
"I think she over states my contribution just a little. She was and is a determined young woman, she would have done well eventually in some field."
"You'll never convince her of that, Joe. I know for a fact you've changed quite a few lives through your writing and appearances. You changed mine."
"Please Babs, this is getting embarrassing."
"Sorry."
She paused, then took the plunge.
"So, Joe, I know you have adamantly refused interviews to discuss your latest book. You refused to do any of the publicity functions that a writer usually has to go through when a new book comes out. Despite that, it became a huge seller, captivating readers around the world. Why now, and with me?"
"Because I know you and trust you. You're very good at asking the right questions, getting unexpected answers. I guess that's why CBS courted you."
"Plus, being on PBS allows me the time to do it justice, instead of condensing it down to a five minute sound bite."
"Thanks, but this time before I start asking, why don't you give us the reasons why you wrote the book, and how it came about."
This is going to be so hard, he thought, but I want, no I need to get it right. Apologies in private aren't as powerful as ones in public, and for the sake of his soul he had to be as public as possible. He owed her that much.
"Babs, I don't know if you're old enough to remember him, but there was a great commentator on radio years ago named Paul Harvey. He became famous for 'The Rest Of The Story', commentaries about famous people or popular topics where he goes past where everyone else did and dug into the back story. They were insightful, and made you view the person or story in a whole new light."
"This is my Paul Harvey book. It's the rest of the story. The story of Annie."
For a brief moment he closed his eyes, reviewing the last two years of his life. Then he started his narrative.
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I got home and Maria was sitting at the kitchen table. It appeared she had been crying.
My first thought was of the children. Had something happened?
A J had three now, two boys and Bunny. She was thirteen now, beginning to show the woman she would become.
Mickey was a lawyer, practicing in Chicago.
Tony was a professional baseball player, in AAA. He knew and I knew he would never make the big leagues, he was going to make use of his engineering degree come next winter.
The twins had graduated, Tina was a teacher in Grant City, their hometown, and Cassie had stayed close, getting a high tech job locally. They had gone to different colleges, leaving the twin mentality behind them. Tina had married, a local boy, and was pregnant with her first.
"What's wrong, honey? Are the kids all right?"
"They're fine. You got a package today, from Rio."
"Rio? As in Brazil? Who do we know there?"
The tears started falling.
"Annie."
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I hadn't thought of her much in years. The pain faded over time, with help from Maria and the kids.
She had refused to speak to me the last time I had seen her, and I left it at that.
We had moved to the mountains of North Carolina. Tony had gotten a baseball scholarship to Mountain State. We helped him move down and fell in love with the area.
I liked the Chicago area just fine as far as people, but I was a Southern boy, and hated the winters. The mountains of North Carolina was far enough South to make me happy, and had enough of a winter to suit the family.
We were driving around, doing the tourist thing. We were on a back road, on the way to some where else, when we saw the house.
Huge, white, two story. A typical farmhouse of the era, built at a time when large families were the norm. It was a bit run down but in good structural shape. It had a real estate sign out front. 'For sale, with acreage'. Without consulting Maria I pulled into the driveway.
"Why are we stopping?"
"Curiosity."
We had the twins with us, Tony was settling into his dorm, embracing college life. Maria was a little sad. The twins were all that was left, and in just a few years we would have an empty nest. This bothered Maria quite a bit.
I walked out back and was sold. the house sat just under a ridge, overlooking a small valley. At the top was a small waterfall, about twenty feet, turning into a pretty large creek running through the center, joined by three small streams along the way. Almost exactly opposite of the house on the other ridge was a small log cabin, just barely visible.
I made up my mind, Even If I couldn't live here I wanted this house.
Maria was captivated by the view also, and we agreed with some work it would make a nice vacation home. We were surprised when the realtor told us the whole valley, three hundred forty acres, came with the house.
"All we need is the house and a few acres. Can we split that off from the rest of the property?"
"No, it can't be divided. The whole valley is considered a flood plain, no structures can be built on it. About all it's good for is timber and pasture. It's part of the original homestead from the eighteen forties."
"But," said the realtor, "Because it is flood plain it's not valued at much. Plus, it's been on the market for a good while, I'm sure the owners would be glad to negotiate."
It was more than we wanted but we got it for two thirds the asking price.
The house had twelve rooms and three fireplaces, including the one in the kitchen.
It was a floor to ceiling remodel, luckily the house was just new enough to exempt it from historical property laws. We rented a condo while the work was in progress, and by the time the house was done we decided to stay permanently.
The house was beautiful when it was done. My State magazine did a spread, showing pictures of the house and the states' newest celebrity couple.
The twins did their last year of high school there. They were teased unmercifully for being rich Yankees. But their beauty, charm, and intelligence soon had everyone won over. Many a young Southern boy seriously considered crossing the Mason Dixon line.
We integrated into the community. I took up gardening and found I enjoyed it immensely. Maria joined several civic organizations just to keep busy.
Through one of the charities she worked with she met and became friends with the wives of J.G. Wilson, a retired college dean and popular writer. It was inevitable we would be thrown together.