CHAPTER 1

She knelt to one knee on the soft grass and set the geranium betweenthe gravestones, sprinkled dirt around the flower with her long,graceful fingers and tamped the moist black earth with her gardentrowel, thankful for the cemetery's sensitive policy allowing flowersto be planted in the spring if they were removed by Labor Day. Thered flower, always her mother's favorite, cast a small shadow on thelawn, and it complemented the gravesite near the scenic west end ofthe cemetery where she adored the tranquil beauty of the scene withthe hill, plain-pretty in the sunlight, above the confluence of the twinrivers that wound northeast to the Mississippi River.

She sat back on her heels but still shivered despite the MemorialDay sunshine that was unusually warm for the high latitudes of theCentral Minnesota Lake Region. The light breeze off the river valleymassaged her bare feet and tousled her well-groomed auburn hair. Sheachieved some peace with her family here in the cemetery near herhometown of Twin River Falls. She smiled as she brushed her barelegs below her Capri style denim jeans, and at age fifty-two she stillfelt attractive when part of her long, shapely legs were showing.

But long-time emotions of loneliness, which had gripped her forfive decades and caused the shivers, swelled at the thoughts of whatshe had missed. She had made substantial progress when her Prozachad taken effect, and her loneliness dulled following treatment foralcohol abuse. She had earned a masters degree nine years ago thatled to a teaching position at the local junior college, and now she wasa candidate for the academic dean's position.

Despite her success, a hollow sadness in her heart still lingered asshe read the headstones:

Grace Morgan 1920-1989. Walter Morgan 1920-1945.

Mama died just a few years ago, but she had been without daddyall of her life. She smiled again at the pleasant surprise of how easyit was to call him daddy now that she had finally put her plans intomotion. She could not smile like that before she had his gravestoneplaced in last fall. She smiled again and looked to the future for therewere more plans to come.

She placed another flower near his stone and leaned close wherethe sweet scent twitched her nose. Mama was buried here. Shetamped the earth near the flower, and her tears trickled again becausedaddy was not buried here. He had been killed in World War II andwas buried in Belgium. She had never seen him and now, with acrushing but sensitive empathy, she broke down, crying again overher new—but very late—realization that she was not the only loser.Daddy had never seen his daughter, Jessica.

Jessica had endured a lifetime without a father, and she hadblunted the loss for years with alcohol. She stared at his name as sherose straight on her knees. The urge to learn about him, buried belowher sorrow and feelings of abandonment, rose to an irresistible drivethat she finally faced. Her tears diminished, and she formed a smile asshe pulled down her white blouse to cover a streak of her slender barewaist.

"I'm coming to see you, daddy. I'm coming to Belgium to seeyou."

She and her older brother Don had received little as children andteenagers. At times they had enough money for a Saturday afternoonmatinee sharing a box of popcorn and on special occasions for an icecream sundae. Don delivered newspapers during junior high school,and if he had just been paid he chipped in for some additional candy.She did see enough movies to select The Wizard of Oz as her favorite.

School had been painful despite her good grades. She sufferedsilently as she was the only one in her early grades without a father,and it hurt when other kids and teachers talked about their dads. Sheshed tears if they asked about her father. She was in seventh gradebefore she was able to answer without tears, and that was due toa sensitive teacher who talked with her about fathers. But sadnesswas never far away. She grew to be willowy-attractive, almost sixfeet tall with smooth poise and balance. She was a natural dancer,an inheritance from her mother, and also a skilled swimmer. Donand she, at the guidance of her mother, took free swimming lessonsoffered by the city's park board. Don and mama both encouraged herto try out for the high school cheerleading squad. She had performedher difficult try-out routine without flaw, and she was a standoutwith her height. But she wasn't selected. The squad positions went topopular girls with fathers. Forty years later that loss still hurt her. Shewondered if fatherhood promoted popularity in girls?

A car honked, and she jumped to see Don's white Cadillac pullup near the wrought iron fence. She wiped her tears and brushed dirtfrom her Capri jeans while Don eased out and strolled with athleticprecision across the lawn in crisp blue slacks and a red and white sportshirt under a dark blue sweater. For him, those clothes were casual onMemorial Day, but he was still resplendent without one of his tailoredsuits.

"Hi, Don," she said gaily, greeting him with a hug.

"Hello, Jessie," he replied, and returned a stiff hug, his lips tightin his prominent jaw. He was two years older and six-feet two inchestall—she was five feet eleven. He was broad-shouldered and had beenan outstanding football player in his student days at the University ofMinnesota. His success, intelligence and ambition led Ward Cullen,the father of his wife Andrea, to bring him into their family business,a growing chain of fifty small variety stores in strip malls and smalltowns. His ability and ambition also established him in her familyand boosted him up the ladder quickly to manager and later to seniorexecutive. Jessica's career as a community college English teacherdressed in department store styles paled next to his performance."That's a nice outfit for a holiday," she said.

"Thanks," he replied. "It's good to be out of a suit for a day." Hetook her hands and smiled with warmth at her. "How are you, Jessie?Anything new on the deanship?"

"I'm fine, and I met with Dr. Shaw," she replied, shaking her headwith a light smile. "I am still under consideration."

"I am glad to hear that. I'll put in a good word for you," Don said."Quietly, of course."

"Thank you. It's nice to have an influential big brother."

Don stepped over and surveyed the gravesites. He crouched andgazed at the headstones for several moments. "You spend a lot of timehere," he said flicking an eye toward her as she moved next to him."The gravestone and all." His face tightened but he didn't face her. Hestood and stared at his father's gravestone.

She bit her lip. "Yes, I do, much more than in previous years."Don's distress had been evident this spring when she invited him tosee how the new sod had turned green in the spring weather. "You see,daddy—"

"Daddy?" he quipped and turned to her with a sober look. "That'ssomething new in your thoughts."

She clasped her hands and shifted her eyes to the hill above theriver. "I have come here almost daily since I—" She stopped. Shewouldn't tell him the rest of her plans. She dropped her arms andshook her head. "I just started calling him daddy."

"That can be a problem at your age," Don replied. "We didn'tknow him and calling him daddy isn't going to help anything."

"Why can't it help? We're still humans."

Don brushed a twig from his sleeve. "Never mind," he said softly.

"Don, please don't be upset with me."

"I'm sorry, Jessie," he replied in earnest. "I don't mean to be rude.But right now I'm stretched thin. I face serious issues at the companythat I must attend to every day. It's not an easy time."

"Business," she murmured, looking down, "always business."

"Please don't become cynical, Jessie."

She gazed back to the low valley beneath the bluff and the TwinRivers to the west. "Something's on your mind, Don."

"Yes, there is, come." He took her hand and led her to a benchwhere they sat close to each other. "This business of yours withfather," he said, his gaze intense, "distracts me at a bad time. Mr.Cullen announced he would retire as company CEO at the end ofthe year. He will stay as Chairman of the Board. Five years ago hepromised me I would succeed him as CEO if I could handle the job."Don smacked his palm. "I must keep on top of the business. I'mdeveloping plans for new stores. I want to be CEO the last ten yearsof my career. I simply can't afford to do anything that will lead him todoubt me."

"And I'm distracting you?" she said in cool voice.

"Jessie—"

She jumped to her feet and stared at him. "Did you ever think itwas daddy who distracted you?" she asked.

"Jessica, please. I need to handle the business. I even decided notto run for re-election to the city council."

She clasped her hands to ease her words. Despite her turmoil, shefelt empathy for his situation. The decision not to run would have beendifficult to make. As chairman of the city planning and developmentcommittee he was very successful, and he was considered by many tobe a strong candidate for mayor of Twin River Falls. He was lookinginto ideas to develop something on the bluff above the confluence ofthe rivers. Her facial lines softened, and she touched his arm. "I'msorry, Don. I don't mean to be angry, and I'm happy that you will beCEO," she said and gazed back to the rivers again. "Marrying AndreaCullen was very beneficial for you."

"I have worked hard to be successful," he said. "I love Andreawhether she's the boss' daughter or not, and Mr. Cullen has been like afather to me."

Mr. Cullen—his father. Those words stung and cut a breachbetween brother and sister. But she kept her poise. "Yes," she repliedin a shallow tone.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "They have been a family tome."

She slipped away from him. "But can't you acknowledge yourown father? Can't you say that you miss him?" She cried and took hishands. "Can't you acknowledge us as your family, that we have hadfamily memories?"

"Family memories?" Don murmured and stared back to the hilland the rivers. "Did we have any?"

"Of course we did!" Jessica snapped, her face in tight lines. "Momworked hard for us at that supermarket and in her part-time job as awaitress in the evenings."

"Yes, she did work hard, very hard." Don blinked and nodded."But she was quick to scold us, and she often fell asleep on the couchin the evenings."

"She was tired," Jessica said dabbing her eyes. "She had nobodyclose to support her, but she did love us."

"I know." Don looked down in silence then spoke in a nearwhisper. "That I do know; she did love us."

"And she saved for a down payment so she could buy us a house,"Jessica blurted. "And she always kept it clean."

"Quite a house," he sighed. "It was tiny and two houses from therailroad tracks. If Andrea had seen it before we became engaged shewouldn't have taken my ring."

"Don! That's not fair," Jessica snapped again. "Mom bought thehouse so the woman next door could look after us when school wasout. It was our home. We each had a bedroom." Jessica broke downcrying. "It looked nice with the lawn mowed and the sidewalk sweptso we could play hopscotch." She whirled away as her anger surgedagain but swung back to him and snorted, "If Andrea hadn't takenyour ring, you would have been better off without her."

Don's poise faded. "My bedroom was in the attic," he said in aweak voice.

"And don't be insensitive about our home because you live in abig house now," she jabbed at him. "Mom saved for our collegeeducations and encouraged us to go."

Don sat back down on the bench with his elbows on his knees."Yes, she did the best for us," he said softly. "We both graduated fromcollege. She was proud of that."

"Our graduations were the pride of her life. Those were herhappiest days with us. She decorated the house beautifully for ourreceptions. Don't you remember?"

Don looked to the rivers again. "I remember. Yes, the graduationswere happy days. But father wasn't there." He paused. "Mother hardlyknew him. He never saw you, and I don't remember him. Our liveswere days of loneliness." He pointed to his father's gravestone. "Heisn't even buried here. He's buried in Belgium."

"The Henri-Chapelle Cemetery," Jessica wept. "Mother talked ofhim. They were a fine couple."

"Yes, I always hoped that," Don said in a muffled tone. "But theymet at a USO dance when he was home on furlough and married afew months later."

"No, that's not right," Jessica said sharply. "They met in 1940.Daddy was in the National Guard. They married, the war startedand the army called his unit to active duty. You were already born,they wrote to each other, and he came home on a furlough." Jessicapaused in frustration but straightened with determination. "Don,"she continued, her voice firm, "you don't even have the facts straightabout mom and daddy."

Don's facial lines deepened. He shook his head as he stared off,and his eyes blinked. Jessica thought he might cry. She was surprised.It was the only time she had ever seen him look defeated.

"We had his letters, she said softly. "He wrote many of them, andmom talked to us about him. Sometimes."

"Sometimes," Don repeated. "And letters? We didn't read themuntil years after he wrote them; they were about places in Europe ofwhich we knew nothing. Yes, he went off to training and came homeon furlough once. He saw me but I was too young to remember him.Then he shipped out to England."

"Don't forget me. I was conceived during that time he was home."Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm his daughter, and he never sawme."

She shuffled back to the gravesites and read the headstones insilence as her heart cried for Don. He was bitter and knew so littleabout his parents' beginnings. Yet he had remained close to her.When they were growing up, he assumed greater responsibilities asher protector. She often sensed that beneath the veneer of his successhe felt the same loneliness and isolation that she did. But he neveracknowledged it.

He came to her and put his arm across her shoulders. She tried tomuster courage to tell him her plans. "Don, I—" she stumbled on herwords. "I'm sorry for what I said about Andrea and her family. I knowyou love them. But I wanted to tell—" She stopped.

"It's all right, Jessie." He took her hands again. "Put this behindyou. Build a new life. Focus on your work at the college. Become adean. And you know—" His voice trailed off.

She turned her eyes to him. "And get married again, you mean?"

"Well, yes. Get your life in order. Maybe marry again."

"I won't marry again," she replied. "If I find out about daddy,I'll be content in retirement." Talks of marriage nudged up her strongsexual yearnings. Even with age they were never far from the surface,but she suppressed them. She spoke in a soft, steady voice, "Don, it'seasier to be lonely alone than to be lonely with someone."

He shook his head once, and her words seemed to strike a chordin him. He strode to higher ground and looked to the bluff andconfluence of the rivers. Jessica followed and took his arm. "It's sobeautiful up here. Does the city council have any plans for it yet?"

"No, we want something fitting," Don replied, "an historicalremembrance or memorial that represents the town. It's a good project.Working on it settles me down."

"Well, it's good it helps you," Jessica said with a light laugh."Don—" She started to tell him of her European trip but he took herhands.

"Look, I have to get back home," he said. "We'll talk again, Jessie.Like I said, I'm carrying a big load right now, and I have to get to theCullen's for a reception, but Andrea and I want you over for dinner onThursday evening. Will you come?"

Jessica thought for a moment and nodded. "Yes. Of course I will."

Don left with the poise he had when he arrived. She returned tothe gravestones. A light breeze drifted off the valley and the rivers asshe read aloud, "Walter Morgan 1920-1945." She knelt and tampedthe flower next to his headstone. "I'm coming, daddy," she said. "I'mcoming to find you. I'll follow your paths from Normandy Beach toyour burial gravesite. I'm coming."

CHAPTER 2

Jessica swam with grace and precision from the deep end of the publicpool to shallow water where she brimmed with joy while the throng ofseventh and eighth grade girls in her swimming class frolicked andsplashed near the aluminum ladder, spraying water on others during afinal moment before the end of the instruction period.

She was a skilled swimmer since childhood, which led her tovolunteer to teach swimming following her completion of treatmentfor alcohol abuse when her therapist recommended she find anactivity that was self-fulfilling. She loved the water, and she foundcontentment and fun with the young girls who wanted to swim. Herinstruction was very successful.

She thrust her long body smoothly through the final twenty feet ofwater as the last girl scrambled up the ladder, and Jessica grabbed therungs to pull herself up with ease and saw one of the girls, a skinnyfreckle-faced redhead in an orange suit with a flare for boisterousnessand wise cracks, standing alone watching her.