The Castaway Hotel
Book 6

By: B W
(© 2012 by the author)

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Chapter 26
A Ray of Hope. 

As we approached the end of the month, the tremendous amount of individual recognition Trey received began to wane.  As this happened, my focus shifted back to Cody. 

This shift began after I came home one afternoon and discovered a letter from the Genelex Corporation.  I knew at once this was the laboratory the blood samples had been sent for DNA testing and I suddenly felt a little dizzy and light-headed.  It was obviously the report specifying whether Cody’s mother’s pimp was also his father.  I tore the envelope open, wishing to end the agonizing suspense as quickly as I could.  I needed to learn the truth about his parentage.  Excited, yet nervous, I began to read.

“The samples you provided were run through the Genelex testing procedures and it has been determined that there is 0% chance that donor A is the father of donor B.  These results were verified, using a secondary testing procedure.”

Damn.  It worked.  That piece of garbage isn’t Cody’s father.  I was very relieved.  I phoned Steve immediately, not only to tell him the good news, but to also ask him to draft a letter to the creep, telling him there would be no more money coming his way.  Now, I just had to hope this other guy was a perfect match and would agree to donate merely for Cody’s sake.  Whether I wanted it this way or not, all of our eggs were now in one basket.

As Saturday morning neared, I grew more and more nervous.  I didn’t want to call this guy to arrange a time to meet him first, because I didn’t want to spook or give him an indication something might be wrong.  I felt it would be best if I just confronted him out of the blue. 

For those reasons, we were just going to drive to his residence and take a chance we’d find him home on a Saturday.  We’d also be taking a risk he’d be willing to speak with us.  I don’t usually go off half-cocked like this and not have a more detailed plan, but in this case I felt it would be a calculated gamble we’d have to take.  Since Steve agreed with my reasoning, it gave credence to my plan and eased my paranoia.

It was a long drive, or at least it seemed that way, primarily because I was so nervous about this meeting.  I couldn’t stop wondering if this visit would go any better than the one with the pimp, but I had no way to predict it.  I was hopeful that once we proved this guy was Cody’s father, I would be able to get him to accept his responsibility and do what was best for his son.  I also felt it would be an easier pill for Cody to swallow if this man was his father, rather than the pimp. 

From the information the investigator had gathered for me, this guy seemed to be an upstanding citizen, with a family of his own.  I was told he had a decent job, no criminal record and was well respected in the community.  It sounded good and I was encouraged. 

Once we verified he was Cody’s father, I was planning to tell Cody this guy was never told Cody’s mother was pregnant, let alone that he had a son and Cody existed.  I was counting on the ignorance factor to be my ace in the hole, proving to Cody that his biological father never actually rejected him or shunned his role as a father.  The reason he hadn’t been there for Cody was due to the fact that he just never knew he was a dad. 

Following the maps I’d printed off the Internet, I quickly found his street, which was located in a very nice neighborhood.  The house was probably twenty or thirty years old, but it was very well maintained.  Seeing his current situation, I began to wonder how this guy had gotten hooked up with a prostitute in the first place. 

I parked along the curb and we watched the house for a brief time, to determine if there was any indication that someone was home.  After noticing movement inside, I decide it was time to see if he was there.  Nervously, I walked up to his house alone.  I did this in case his wife or children were also there, since I didn’t want to create a problem or piss him off.  If I did, I knew he would be less likely to help us. 

I figured if his family was home, I’d ask him to go with us for coffee or something, but if not, then I’d just wave to Steve and let him know he could join us.  I was now standing in front of his door, ready to ring the doorbell, but I just couldn’t get my body to cooperate.  I was a mass of nerves and filled with trepidation.  My hand was shaking like a leaf in a strong breeze and I more nervous than a virgin on her wedding night. 

Realizing how important this was, I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.  Slowly, I began to overcome these strong emotions and was able to lift my index finger upward, until it made contact with the button.  As I pressed it, I heard the chimes go off inside the house.  Soon, a small, blond-haired boy, about 8 or 9 years old, opened the door.

“Hello, is your father home?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a second,” he told me.  “Daaaaaaaad,” he screamed, as he walked away from the door.  He left it open, with me standing there alone. 

“It’s for you,” I heard him continue, as he disappeared from sight. 

After a few seconds, a good-looking guy in his early thirties walked up to the door.  “Hello.  May I help you?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I hope you may, but I think we need to discuss this in private,” I responded in a whisper, while peering over his shoulder to see if anyone else was approaching.  I didn’t want to be overheard and hoped he got my drift.

“In regards to what?” he countered, suspiciously, while still keeping his voice down.  It was obvious he was unwilling to take me at face value. 

“About something it’s better for little ears not to overhear,” I answered, hoping this time he’d get my meaning.  After hearing my last comment, he glanced quickly over his own shoulder, before he stepped out on the doorstep and pulled the door shut behind him.  It seemed he had finally caught on to the fact this was a delicate matter that needed his undivided attention.  He glared at me, before he spoke. 

“Now what’s this about?” he asked softly, but quite firmly.

“Do you remember a Marianne Reynolds?” I asked, in a low tone.  He quickly looked over his shoulder again and eyed the door, to make sure it was still closed.  When he looked back in my direction, I could read the panic in his eyes.  Beads of perspiration were also beginning to appear on his forehead as he opened his mouth. 

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.  “I… well, maybe it’s… a… a possibility.”

“Don’t you agree it would be better if we continued this conversation somewhere else?” I suggested.  “There’s a lot to explore, concerning this topic?”  

He scanned nervously over his shoulder yet again, to make certain the door hadn’t opened in the past few seconds.  “But what shall I tell my wife?” he wondered.

“You could tell her an old friend, high school teacher or college professor looked you up and wants to take you out for a drink,” I suggested.

“That won’t work,” he countered.  “She’d want me to invite you in. so she could meet you too.”

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to think up a new strategy.

“I’m vice-president of a bank,” he responded. 

“Could you tell her we just notified you of a problem concerning the bank and you have to go with us, to check it out?” I suggested. 

“I don’t think that would work either,” he mumbled.  “First of all, I’m not the one who would respond to those types of situations, and when there is a problem I need to handle, someone would phone me at home, not show up at my door.”

“Can’t you think of anything that WOULD work?” I pleaded.

“Not really,” he told me, looking nervous.  “I’m not the type of guy who has problems pop up like this, at least until now.”

“Okay, how about this?” I offered, while praying my next idea might work.  “We’ll leave and drive down the street and take the first right we come to.  We’ll stop and wait for you there.  You can drive down to meet us in a few minutes and then we’ll follow you to a place you choose, where we can talk.”

“But what will I say if my wife asks who you were and what you wanted?” he pressed, still not convinced this would work. 

“Tell her we were Jehovah’s Witnesses or a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints, hoping to convert you and your family to our religion,” I recommended, thinking situations like that often arise in nice neighborhoods. 

“But don’t they generally give you a hand out before they leave?” he challenged. 

“Yes, but tell her you were adamant that you didn’t want any,” I told him, hoping he’d find it acceptable. 

“Okay, that might work,” he agreed, hesitantly, “but then how am I going to get out of the house to meet you?  What excuse shall I use?”

“Tell her you need to pick something up, check something out or that you’re going to watch one of the college basketball games at your local hangout.  Do I have to do all of your thinking for you?”  I know I was a bit sarcastic, but I was desperate and my eyes were pleading with him.

“Hmmm, let me think,” he replied, while taking up my challenge.  “Well, the kids have been asking me to get a new mouse for the computer.  The old one has been acting up.”

“Great, then tell her that’s what you’re going to do,” I agreed, eagerly. 

“Okay, but I hope she or the boys don’t want to go with me,” he replied, concerned. 

“Just think of an excuse why they can’t go or don’t give them time to ask,” I indicated.  “We need to do this quickly.  It’s very urgent.”

“Okay, I’ll join you shortly,” he agreed.

I went back to the car, got in and drove down the street.  When I came to the first street where I could make a right turn, I took it and then stopped and waited for him to show up.  It wasn’t long before he pulled up, signaled for us to follow and then we slowly made our way out of his development. 

He eventually led us to a small bar, so we went in and ordered drinks.  We carried them to a secluded table in the far corner, where we could talk without interruption or fear of being overheard.  Once I thought he was comfortable, I broached the subject again.

“So, do you remember Marianne Reynolds?” I asked. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he shot back.  “It’s a name from my past, the very distant past.  I was in college then and needed an occasional sexual outlet, without any strings or commitments that would interfere with my studies or my future.  That’s how I met her, but why are you here and bringing this up now?”

“It’s a long story, but let it suffice that you and she are involved in something that also affects me,” I explained.  “There is also another person connected to this matter, someone whom you have never met.”

“And whom might that be?” he wondered. 

“Her son… and possibly yours too.”  His mouth dropped open after I said this and then a shocked and horrified expression spread across his face.

“Oh, shit.  That can’t be true,” he mumbled.  “She never said anything, so I never knew.  Why would she wait until now to bring this up?”  He thought for a moment and then continued.  “Wait!  She was a hooker, so how could she be sure the child is mine?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, but she did leave the names of those she thought might possibly be the father,” I told him.  “The others have already been eliminated, so now your name is the only one left in the hat.”

“No, this can’t be happening,” he stated, in disbelief.  “I’m happily married, have two sons of my own and I don’t need this now.  It could destroy my marriage.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to get blown out of proportion,” I told him, soothingly.  “All we are asking is that you allow some blood to be taken, so it can be sent to a lab for a DNA comparison.  It’s that simple.”

“And if it turns out this kid is mine?” he wondered.  “I suppose Marianne will then sue me for child support.  Once that happens, my wife will find out and my whole world will come crashing down.  My wife will probably take my sons and leave, and then I’ll end up paying child support for three kids, none of whom will ever want to see me again.”

“No, that’s not how it will play out,” I countered, adamantly.  “Let me fill you in about a few things.”  I paused briefly and took a deep breath before I continued.   

“Marianne has passed away and her son lives with me.  We don’t want any money from you and your wife doesn’t ever have to find out about any of this,” I assured him.  “The reason we need to know whether you’re his father is because he has leukemia and needs a blood and bone marrow donation.  The doctor says a related donor would work best and provide the greatest chance for him to get healthy again.  If you are the boy’s father, all we’d ask is that you donate the blood and bone marrow he needs, to increase the likelihood of his survival.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry I was so insensitive about this earlier,” he apologized.  “Is he going to be all right?  I hope so and I’ll certainly cooperate, as long as everything is done discretely.  I know I’d want the same consideration for one of my sons and, well, he just MIGHT be my son.”

“This is my friend and lawyer, Steven Shay,” I told him, “and he has drawn up an agreement for you to sign.  All it states is you are willing to allow the DNA testing to be performed, to determine if the boy is your son.   If the match is within acceptable limits, it states you will then agree to donate blood and bone marrow cells to help him.  It also stipulates you are willing to sign off on your parental rights, so I might adopt him.  Will any of this be a problem?”

He thought about it for a few seconds, before he replied.  “No, in fact it would get me off the hook concerning my own situation, but I can’t have the blood taken locally.  Word might get back to her.”

“You’re not very far from Pittsburgh,” I pointed out, “so I could arrange to have everything done there, if that would be better for you.”

“Yes, it would,” he agreed, looking more relaxed now.  “Okay, set it up and let me know when you need me there.  I’ll take some time off from work and think up some excuse to tell my wife.  Thank you for not blurting this out in front of her or the kids.  That would have been devastating, especially if she found out I might also have impregnated a prostitute.”

“It was the least I could do, as long as you are willing to help my future son,” I reasoned. 

The guy smiled at me and I could tell it was because he was appreciative of the fact that I was going to take care of this child, even if it turned out Cody was his son.  He signed the contract willingly and we grabbed a total stranger to serve as a witness.  Once everything was formalized, we left and went our separate way, but not before he gave me the information I’d need to contact him later. 

As we drove off, we each had what we needed.  This guy’s secret was still intact and I had a man willing to be tested, to see if he could donate cells to Cody.  All in all, it was a good day. 

On the way back, Steve and I took a detour through Pittsburgh, so I could make the arrangements for his blood to be tested and for the possible harvesting of cells later.  When everything was completed, we took off for home, more optimistic about Cody’s future.  I have to admit I breathed a sigh of relief as we drove out of the ‘Steel City,’ but I also understood Cody wasn’t out of the woods yet.  We still had to hope this guy was an acceptable match, so we could go forward with the donation process.

We got back late that evening, because we had spent most of the day on the road.  I thanked Steve, yet again, for all his help and he merely smiled and told me he’d add it to my I.O.U.  I told him it must be about equal to the national debt by now, which caused him to chuckle.  He then got out of the car and I watched as he strode toward his front door.  Damn, how would I ever repay him for everything he has done for my boys and me? 

Since if was so late, I waited until the next day to call the guy and give him the information he needed.  Once he had copied everything down, I thanked him, once more, for his cooperation.  In a whisper, he reiterated his stance about hoping someone would have gone to the same extremes to help his own sons, if they were in a similar situation. 

Now that everything was set, I told him I’d notify him once I got the results back, to let him know if a donation was possible.  He indicated that if Cody did turn out to be his son, he might like to meet him, without Cody knowing whom he really was.  He said this would just be to satisfy his curiosity and let him see what he had missed out on.  I told him that would be fine and he could come to our house, or we could visit him, whenever it was convenient.  I said I’d introduce him as the son of a friend and no one would ever question that explanation. 

He then thanked me for being willing to do this for him, but I reminded him I was doing it for Cody.  I just tried to make it simple for him and not create unnecessary problems.  I also told him that until the test results were back, we wouldn’t need to contact each other further.  I thought telling him this would be best, in case he worried Cody or I might become a reoccurring distraction.  I think hearing me say this gave him a little peace of mind as well.  Now, we just had to wait and see what the tests showed. 

To be continued...

Posted: 11/09/12