I had just finished packing the last box from the bathroom when I heard rapping on the door.
Strange, I thought, don't think I remember many people showing up here, especially without calling first.
I walked over to the door and pulled it open to see a boy, maybe around seventeen, he was lanky, with long dark hair, and brown eyes. He looked like a man I once knew. For that reason, I stood in the doorway, no intent on letting him in.
I heard the sound of gravel popping, my head automatically looked over to see where the noise was coming from. I saw a taxi pulling away. I was about to ask him to leave, before I noticed him opening his mouth, about to say something.
"I'd like to talk to Mr. Jake Rundell," he stated, standing up taller. My heart sank, at that moment I wanted to slam the door and go cuddle up with one of grandpa's old sweaters. "I have a note from him asking me to stop by. I was given the security code to get in here and told I didn't need to call ahead."
I felt the corner of my eyes begin to sting as I stopped a tear from rolling down my face. I felt dizzy, I grabbed onto the door frame to steady myself.
I took a deep breath and responded, "His funeral was a couple of days ago". At this moment I was beginning to feel angry, my grip tightened on the door, my knuckles starting to turn white. I looked down at the ground and back up, just in time to see him sag slightly.
"You're obviously not selling anything," I noted trying to lighten the freshly darkened conversation. "Otherwise I'd tell you that this community has strict rules against going door to door. But you came in a taxi".
I said it in a way that let him know that I would like to know more, as in why he's here, what he needs grandpa for. I need to get back to packing. My thoughts were interupted when he spoke again, "flew in from Toronto. This morning. My grandfather sent me." Strange, I thought, why wouldn't he just- oh wait he said grandfather, maybe he's- "he's too old to travel himself?"
I asked, but after his answer I really wish I didn't. "His funeral was a little over a week ago," hmm he really didn't need to tell me he's from Canada, his accent is as thick as their maple syrup!
"At the reading of his will, he left me a note saying he owed Jake Rundell a favour and I was supposed to help." Oh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key, "I was given this too."
Oh my... that's- "You're Jim Webb?" I stepped back, offering him inside. "Please, come inside. Shut the door behind you."
He pushed the door closed and followed me into the living room. I pointed to one of the leather chairs, "I'm Jana Rundell," he sat down and I continued. "The rest of the family has already flown back to their own homes. I've stayed behind to begin getting the house ready for sale."
I walked into the kitchen to grab the letter and envelope my grandfather left. I hold onto the letter trying to calm myself before speaking. "Here's what it says," I start to read the letter, although I didn't really need to read it, I could probably recite it from heart, I've read this letter over and over, wondering when this Jim Webb will get here? Or wondering what it means.
"When Jim Webb shows up with a key, hand him the envelope." I handed him the smooth envelope and sighed, he took it from me and wasted no time before tearing it open.
He looked at the paper with a puzzled look, he read out an address and looked at me expectantly.
"Doesn't mean anything to me" I said shaking my head. "Your father didn't say anything else?" He asked, a look of disappointment and a hint of annoyance on his face.
Wait did he say- "My father?"
"Jake"
I laughed at this "Jake had his eighty-eighth birthday a month ago. He was my grandfather."
Jim looked surprised. The looked disappeared before he responded. "David McLean was ninety-two, he was my grandfather. My mom is about your age. I keep forgetting not everybody had children as late in life as my grandfather."
Did he say David McLean? Why do I know that? Oh he's the man my grandfather always talked about. He's in the picture!
"David McLean? Hang on." I walked into grandpa's bedroom and grabbed the picture of my grandfather, David, Harlowe, and Ray.
I walked back into the living room and handed him the picture, I leaned over him pointing at grandpa.
"There's my grandfather, Jake. He talked a lot about David McLean. Said there was nobody like him, ever." I smiled to myself remembering how his face lit up when he told his stories.
I stopped my reminiscing as Jim started asking more questions, "the other two?"
"Harlowe Gavin and Ray Daley. They look like brothers don't they? Twins, almost. Grandpa Jake said that in training camp, Harlowe would take a duty shift for Ray so that Ray could go into town and chase girls, and the commanding officers couldn't tell the difference."
Jim's face dropped, "Long time ago"
"World War Two," If David was anything like Jake, Jim new all about that already. "But I don't have to tell you that do I?"
A silence fell heavily over the two if us, it wasn't awkward, it was more of a mourning silence.
I jumped slightly as the air conditioning kicked in.
"So-"
"So-"
"You go first" I said awkwardly. "My grandfather sent me here to help Jake," he said, his eyes flicking to the picture and back up.
"He didn't know that Jake was dying." He paused. "Or maybe he did. I know he wanted me here as fast as possible."
Why is this kid so mysterious? The question crossed through my mind repeatedly.
"Why?" I asked. "I expected Jake Rundell to tell me," Jim tossed the key into the air and caught it, leaving his hand open. "But I guess since he knew the end was coming for him, he left me an address instead."
I stared blankly at the key. I want to know what's going on, I thought, "If it helps, I can drive you".
