Chapter 10
Lola walked into his room and hung his cut over the back of the chair. He jerked his tee shirt over his head and swung toward the delicate knock coming from the doorway.
Mia stood there clutching a paper to her chest.
“Come on in. I’ve been washing bikes all morning. Just drying off. What you got there?” He toed off his boots and dropped onto the arm of the tall back chair, one leg still firmly on the floor. “Come sit down.”
Mia held out the paper then eased onto the edge of his bed.
He scanned the information listed. Several addresses. One noted to be his mother’s home address and others were popular hangouts of teens during the time she lived here. The last was the high school’s address with a notation ‘may find her friends in yearbook to interview’.
“You did all this research for me?”
She smiled.
“Going with me?”
“Want me to,” she mouthed slowly, not attempting to sign.
He grinned. “Ever been on a motorcycle?”
So, she hadn’t. He nodded. Did she realize how adorable she was when she bit her lips like that? Maybe it was her eyes. The innocence of willing to learn something new flashing in them. “Opposed to it?”
A smile was all he needed to continue. “Good. I’ll change and get Amber’s helmet, and we’ll hit these places.”
Thirty minutes later, they were stepping from his bike. Lola studied the brick home as he hung his helmet on the handlebar. Nice neighborhood. He glanced toward the yard imagining his mother running and playing there as a child.
Mia tapped his shoulder.
“Yeah. Let’s do this.” He strolled toward the front door and rang the bell waiting for answers.
A pleasant woman who appeared to be in her forties opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so, ma’am. I’m Tim and this is Mia. I’m trying to track down some information about my parents. I know it’s a long shot, but did you know the former owners? Baur? They would have lived here in the early nineties.”
“Oh, that has been a while. I wish I could help but we’ve only lived here for twenty-one years. We purchased it from a family named Barilleaux, who I think only lived here a short time, and I don’t know any history of the home before that. I’m so sorry.”
Lola’s heart dropped. His body suddenly felt the weight of every disappointment he’d ever had. “Thank you, ma’am.”
He turned toward his bike and looked house to house wondering if anyone had lived here for more than the thirty years his mother had left.
“Wait a minute,” the homeowner called out. “You said the nineties. That’s about thirty years. Mr. Jones lives across the street.” She pointed to a blonde brick home behind him. “As far as I know, he’s been here since his kids were young. And I do believe they’re my age. So, he may can help.”
Adrenaline shot through him. “Thank you so much. We’ll talk to him.”
Lola turned toward Mia. The excitement on her face rivaled the hope filling him. Each step across the blacktop spurred a new question on Lola’s mind. What if the man didn’t remember his mom? What if he did? Did Lola really want to know the truth?
The man was standing on his porch before they stepped foot in his yard.
Lola approached him and introduced himself and Mia with a handshake and stated his dilemma.
Mr. Jones studied Lola a moment before giving him a smile. “Yeah. Come have a seat.”
Lola followed Mia toward an arrangement of lawn furniture and sat in the chair beside her where they faced the old man. “Do you remember my mother, Anja Baur?”
“I do. I haven’t thought about her in many years. My wife and I wondered what had happened to spur their sudden departure” His head bobbed as he recalled the time. “She was a year younger than our daughter, but they were friends. She spent a good bit of time here. When the neighborhood kids hung out in the yard, there was one fella she gave her attention to. Don’t recall the name but I do believe he was from the neighborhood.
“My wife would know. She talked to them more than I did. She’d always have drinks for them and let them know they were welcome. When your mother left, Penny, that’s our daughter, was worried about her. At times, she mentioned thinking she’d show up on our doorstep one day needing a place to stay. That puzzled me. But now, it makes sense.”
“Is your wife here to talk to us?”
The man’s smile was soft and reminiscent. “I wish I could say yes. But she passed four years ago. She had a good fight but eventually cancer took her.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Lola offered his condolences and fell silent searching for what he needed to ask.
“You say you’re looking for information on your mother’s family?”
“Not exactly. I’m searching for information on my father. All I have to go on is the address where my mother grew up. She was seventeen when I was born so I hoped to find a clue here.”
“That sounds about right. All I can tell you is that the family was very strict. Grandparents, I believe they were the mother’s parents, were immigrants. From Germany, if I recall correctly. Never talked to them since they spoke very little English. That would explain the sudden move if they discovered she was pregnant.”
“What about a family named Monroe?”
“There were Monroes who lived down the street. The boy went into the military. They lived there until they both passed years ago. Can’t say I know more than that.”
Lola wished he knew more about Mac to ask specific questions. But until this moment he had no reason to question Mac about his background or even his given name. He knew nothing other than Mac Monroe. And he only knew that much from paperwork at the garage.
“Our kids loved going to the Burger Hut after school and during the summer. We joked that it was their second home. I’ve been there a few times. The walls are filled with photos through the years. Plus, the original owners still run it. Maybe they can recall something.”
Burger Hut. That was also on Mia’s list. Lola stood. “I appreciate your time. You’ve helped more than you know.”
***
Lola rolled to a stop in front of the burger joint where his mother enjoyed spending time as a teenager. Or so he hoped. Has it changed much since then? It had a vintage look about it. He smiled toward Mia next to him and led her inside.
Mia tapped his shoulder and walked past him.
The old man was right. There must be three generations of kids filling the walls. He strode next to Mia and began scanning faces in the photos.
“Some of those photos go back a-ways. Looking for yours?”
Lola whirled toward the young girl clearing a table. “Someone I know used to hang here.”
She laughed. “They’re most likely on the wall somewhere.”
“Would the owner be around?” Lola asked.
“Sure thing. I’ll get him.” She wiped the table and gathered the tub of dishes and disappeared.
Mia’s finger began tapping a furious cadence on his back. He whirled around to see her staring at a photo. “Find something?”
Her eyes were wide when she looked his direction.
She hadn’t seen a photo of his mother, young or old. What could have made her so excited? He zoned in on the face she pointed out. He sucked in a breath and froze. This was not possible. He leaned closer. There, smiling back at him with his arm around the young version of his mother was himself. Or at least the spitting image of him. The boy had eighties style black hair with Lola’s face. He was happy. So was his mother.
“Carley said you wanted to see me.”
Lola wanted to answer the man behind him. He tried, but nothing came out. He had never in his life been at a loss for words. His father was right before him, and he couldn’t look away.
“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know sign language. If you slow down, maybe I can help.”
Lola smiled. Of course, Mia jumped right in to help. He turned toward them. “Hi. I’m Tim Baur, and this is Mia. I was told I might find some answers here.”
The owner chuckled. “Well, I don’t know how I can help, but let’s see.”
“The original owners. Are they still around?”
“You got him. Well, I didn’t own it then, but my parents did. My brother and I run it now.”
“Can you tell me anything about the people in this photo?” Lola twisted back toward the wall pointing out the specific photo.
The owner walked close and studied it a moment. “That’s been a minute ago. But I remember.” He tapped a face. “That’s me. That’s my brother. I believe this was taken after a football game.”
Lola’s felt all the built-up anxiety of the day fade from his body. “Can you tell me about anyone else there?”
The man grinned and lifted the frame from its hook. “Sure can. Let’s have a seat.” He glanced at the photo then back toward Lola. “I believe I see what you’re searching for.”
Yeah. The resemblance wasn’t Lola’s imagination. He settled into a booth next to Mia.
The owner began naming each person. The last two he identified as Anja Baur and Ayden Monroe.
They had hit gold. This was all the evidence Lola needed. Mac was the teenager in the photo with his mother. Lola did look like Mac. And he was named after him. Timon Ayden Bauer.
They sat at the bright red table, traveling through the past with the owner for a lengthy time. Lola took in every detail of his stories involving his parents. Football games. Hanging out in the parking lot on the weekends. Sharing music and the constant competition for the loudest sound system. The last he knew of them, Ayden had signed up for duty and shortly after that, Anja just stopped coming in. He said he thought she had left to be with him.
No doubt he had discovered the truth. At least part of it. But the truth only brought more questions.