Abandoned: MIA in Vietnam Read Free

she go?”
    “She took your brother to Costa Rica to bird watch,” Wolfe said, padding his way to the small kitchen to make some coffee.
    “How long have she and Junior been gone? This place is a disaster,” Kayla said, eyes roaming over the mess in the great room: several day’s worth of newspapers on the couch and floor. Dirty dishes sat on the end table, dining table, and floor. Sweat clothes occupied one of the recliners. “Those jogging clothes are pretty rank, Pops. Are they headed for the washing machine?”
    “No, I can get one more walk out of them. Don’t sweat as much as when I used to jog. So now I’m walking three miles, three times a week. Swimming in the clubhouse pool twice a week. Working out with weights twice a week, too.” Wolfe listed his ideal retirement workout schedule, one he didn’t follow too closely.
    “Really, Dad?” She eyed his dirty, holey, old T-shirt, bare feet, and week’s growth of beard. “When was the last time you left the house?”
    Wolfe rolled his eyes, thinking. He said, “Let’s see, the kids are out of school, so they don’t need tutoring –“
    “Did you really like tutoring reading?” Kayla asked.
    “A frickin’ elephant, I did.”
    “What?”
    Wolfe smiled, recalling a first grader’s first attempt at reading a caption in an alphabet zoo book. He said, “That’s Hooked on Phonics for African Elephant .”
    “And the last time you left the house?” Kayla asked.
    “I needed some bananas last week.” He pointed to the black bananas hanging from the holder on the counter. They oozed liquid essence of banana onto the granite countertop.
    “Yech,” Kayla said. “You go take a shower and shave. I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
    “I only shave on Sunday and Wednesday now,” Wolfe protested. “It’s only Thursday….”
    “Friday. Get your ass in the shower or I’ll call Mom.” She held her cell phone in front of her. “By the way, why didn’t you answer your phone when I called this morning?”
    “Same reason you can’t call your mother. The reception stinks,” Wolfe said. He picked up his telephone from the table and tossed it to her. “See for yourself. No bars.”
    Catching his phone, she looked at it then at her phone. She flashed the front of hers at him. “Four bars,” she lied. “Shower, Dad.”
    Shoulders slumped and head bowed, Wolfe shuffled slowly toward the master bedroom and bathroom. She heard both doors close and lock. When the shower water ran, she went to work.
    In thirty minutes Wolfe reappeared, clean-shaven and smelling fresh. She had loaded the dishwasher and the washing machine. A bowl of oatmeal, toast, and two scrambled eggs, along with orange juice, waited for Wolfe at the dining table.
    “Smells good,” he said. Inspecting the room, he added, “You didn’t throw out any of the newspapers, did you? There are some articles in them –”
    “They’re all in the recycle bin, if you really want to search for them,” she said.
    Wolfe sat heavily in front of the food. One elbow on the table, he poked at the eggs with his fork for a while, and then stirred the oatmeal with his spoon. He didn’t eat much.
    Kayla waited in silence for ten minutes, watching her father’s facial expressions, frown on her face. When he finally put the silverware down and looked up at her, she said, “Get your jogging shoes. We’re going for a walk.”
    “I just took a shower,” Wolfe said. “I’ll need another if we walk. It’s already eighty degrees out there.”
    “It’s Florida, Dad. Deal with it.” Wolfe trundled into his room and retrieved his worn ex-jogging shoes.
    Using her father’s keys, Kayla locked the front door. “Wait, my phone.” Wolfe said.
    “Is dead. That was the real reason you couldn’t answer. I plugged it into the charger,” Kayla said.
    They walked on Copperhead Circle toward the Cascades clubhouse. Wolfe said nothing.
    After reaching Legacy Trail, about a quarter mile from his house, Kayla