Coming Home
Title: Coming Home
Series: A Year in the Life - May 2010
Date: May 31st - Memorial Day
author: cunningdeb
Rating: G
Pairing: adam/kris
Summary: Josh, Adam and Kris’ son, finds an unsent letter and is determined to see it delivered.
Disclaimer: Pure fiction.
Warning: tissues needed
Part of my Allen-Lambert universe. Josh is 17 years old; Hannah is no longer at home; Mrs. Willowby has retired. My, how time passes <3.
I’ve taken creative license and constricted the time span it would probably take to do this investigation in real life. I’m not even sure if all this information is available online but in my universe it is.
Come Home - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq7OVHBc8ZA
--*--
Josh and his friends spent their Saturday wandering West Hollywood. The girlfriends wanted to shop and their guys were dragged around and used as pack mules. Josh didn’t mind - these girls were mere amateurs at this sport compared to his Papa.
Once you’ve shopped with the best, you can handle the rest.
No storefront was off limits - designer to consignment to second hand. Luckily for Josh, his girl Becka was a picky and frugal shopper so he only lugged around two bags while the other guys were running out of free fingers. The boys waited on the sidewalk as the girls attacked another store.
They talked sports, music, whatever. They were outside an Army surplus store and Josh half listened to his friends as he checked out the items in the window. They were studying the Second World War in American History and Josh found it very interesting. Of course, he had an invested interest in the military since his sister had joined the Navy after graduating from nursing school and was taking care of wounded soldiers.
Maybe it was curiosity, Josh wasn’t sure, but he dumped Becka’s bags in a buddy’s overloaded arms and said he’d be right back.
Josh stepped into a khaki camouflaged world and the musty smell overwhelmed him. It was kind of dark; he thought better about venturing further in.
“Can I help you son?” a voice from nowhere asked. Josh looked around aimlessly. “Over here, behind the counter. Can I help you?”
Josh looked towards the counter and eventually located the older man blending into the background. Boy, camouflage really worked! In his coat against the wall, the man nearly disappeared.
“Not sure.”
“Well, something must have drawn you in.”
Josh chewed his top lip. He felt stupid so he said the first thing that came out of his mouth. “Do you have anything from World War Two?”
The man laughed. “Hell, half the stuff in here is from then. Anything in particular?”
Josh shrugged. “I dunno, clothes…other things.”
The man shook his head and rolled his eyes, chiming off a list of inventory. “Combat boots, aviator shades, coats & jackets of every description, messenger bags…”
“That’s it! I’m looking for a messenger bag.” Josh remembered his Papa had one when he was a teenager.
“New or used?”
“What’s the difference?”
“What’s the…gawd, kids! New is….new, you know, never used, pristine, perfect or nearly. Used is old, worn out, marked but with loads more character.”
He liked character. “Old…I mean used.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Follow me.” The clerk led him to a bin near the back of the store. “There you go. Start looking. I’ll be back at my post when you’re ready to pay…and we don’t take checks.”
“Credit cards?”
“Credit…you can’t use your parents card son.”
“I have my own.”
“No kiddin’,” the clerk exclaimed with a mix of suspicion and awe. “Well, it is LA after all.” He shrugged and walked away.
Josh dug through the leather and canvas bags and found one that caught his attention. It was made from a goldish brown canvas with a long strap to slip over his head and two buckles to keep it closed. It was discolored in some places and the strap looked like it had broken and been repaired several times. It was stamped US Army and had printed across it ‘Envelopes 1,2,3, Deliver To’ but the rest was worn off. Aside from the handle repairs, it had no holes and seemed sturdy enough.
Josh liked it. He liked it a lot. Not too big but big enough for things he liked to, well, carry. He made his way to the clerk.
“I’ll take this one.”
“Mail bag. Good choice.”
He rang it up and Josh handed over his credit card. His parents had set a low limit on it so he wouldn’t go batshit crazy spending money but it gave him some independence. The man looked at the name on the card and glared at the young man with one eyebrow raised. He stayed like that for a bit then shook his head as if saying, ‘Nah, couldn’t be’.
“Do you want a bag or you wearing it out?”
“I’ll wear it out. Thanks for your help.” Josh slipped the receipt inside - that went to his accountant named Dad - and turned to leave.
“Hey kid, are you related to…”
“Who?”
“Ah….forget it. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Josh smirked as he walked out. More times than not he got that look when someone learned his last name. His friends didn’t care - his Dad and Papa were just parents, although really amazing ones.
Becka was waiting for him. “What, no purse for me?”
“It’s not a purse, it’s a World War Two messenger bag.”
“I didn’t know Gucci made army bags,” she joked.
Josh laughed and gave her a kiss. “Keep it up Becka and I may loose my credit card when you’re birthday comes up.”
--*--
“Oh God, do you two always have to be at each other. I mean, you’ve been married forever, isn’t it all used up yet?”
Josh had come home and walked in on his Dad and Papa making out on the couch. He really didn’t mind, he just like busting their chops about it. He was a teenager after all.
Kris climbed off Adam’s lap, wiping his mouth. “How was shopping? Did Becka give you a hernia?”
“No, but I think Keith put his back out carrying Maria’s stuff.”
“Hey, where did you get that?” Adam climbed off the couch, also wiping his mouth. He picked up the bag Josh had dropped on a chair. “It looks like one I had in high school.”
“It’s vintage WWII. Maybe it is the one you had in high school.”
Adam stuck out his tongue.
“Alright boys, time for dinner.” Kris grabbed their arms and led them to the kitchen.
--*--
Three days later, Josh came home from school and tossed his bag on the bed. He changed out of his uniform and started digging through the bag for a small sheet of paper with a website link on it for one of his assignments. Not able to find it, it dumped everything out then started searching the pockets inside and found a rip in the lining.
Damn, he could have gotten a discount for that!
Under the lining, he felt something. Maybe his paper? He reached in the rip and pulled out a letter - an old letter. The envelope was browning and stained and the writing on it was fading away. Josh couldn’t read the name very well - the handwriting was atrocious - but he managed to make out San Diego. There was no zip code and the postmark showed 1942.
Josh fell down beside his bag. Wow. This had been stuck in his bag for over 75 years. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t been discovered earlier. It was freaky…and intriguing.
--*--
When Adam had called to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner, he noted a bit of frustration in Josh’s voice. He let it pass as normal teen moodiness so when he stepped in the front door around ten and was literally dragged by his son to the library before the door clicked shut, Adam knew something was up.
“Finally!” Kris exclaimed from his seat in front of the computer.
“What’s up guys? A tad stressed?”
“How well do you know San Diego?”
“Well I did grow up there - you know that - but it’s been years. Why?”
Josh thrust the envelope into his Papa’s hands. “Can you make out that address? Does it look familiar to you? What about the name? Can you read it?”
“Whoa, hold on a sec.” Adam set down his bag and removed his jacket. He took the envelope and started looking at it then abruptly stopped. “What’s this all about?”
“I found this in my new old messenger bag. I think it got stuck in the lining and was never delivered. I want to deliver it.”
“You what?”
“I suggested we donate it to a local archive,” Kris added, “but junior wants to see if we can find the addressee and deliver it.”
“Talk about a late delivery!”
“That’s what he wants to do. So we’re going to try and if we can’t get anywhere, then Josh agreed to donate it.”
“I just have a feeling that whatever is in it is important.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “Important enough to be relevant almost 80 years later?”
“I don’t know what’s inside,” Josh declared, pacing, “and I don’t want to know - it’s private - but what if it’s, like, the last letter a soldier sent home to his family or girlfriend just before he died. Wouldn’t that mean something, even after all this time?”
Kris grabbed his son’s hand and stopped him. “That’s a kind gesture son but you know there’s a very real chance we won’t be able to find them after so long.”
“But we can try.”
Adam looked at the computer screen. “Looks like you’ve already been trying.” He got up for a closer look at the data. “Whatcha got here?”
“We’ve been looking at a directory of streets in San Diego. It’s kind of hard to read the writing on the envelope so we’ve been guessing and seeing if there are any matches,” Kris explained.
“Any luck?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe the street name changed, or it’s no longer there,” Adam suggested.
“What do you think it says?”
Adam looked it over and started rhyming off possibilities. Kris typed them in and after eight tries, they found a match. Unfortunately, there was now a retail outlet at that address.
“You mentioned archives. Why not look up the city’s historical records, old city planning maps, see what you can find.”
Kris nodded and let his fingers do the work. In the meantime, Adam handed his son the phone.
“What’s this for?”
“Call the store and ask if they know where the bag came from. Maybe they have records.”
“Already tried. It came with a bunch of other stuff from a distributor and they got it from another distributor and….”
“No one kept records.”
“Yup.”
Josh’s Papa looked at the envelope again. “It’s a shame the sender’s name is completely gone. It definitely would have helped. Are you sure you want to do all this work?”
“If Hannah had sent us mail and it got lost, wouldn’t you want it no matter how long it took?” Josh went for the jugular and his parents silently nodded.
“There’s a magnifying glass in the desk drawer Josh. Get it for me?” Adam sat beneath a reading light and flicked it on. “Let’s see what we can make out.”
--*--
The three men worked at it til after midnight and hit a brick wall. Kris and Adam resigned themselves to the fact that too much time had passed. Even though they now had a name to work with - Miss Emma Triplehorn - they lost the trail after the family left San Diego in the mid-1950s. Josh refused to give in until his Dad and Papa literally shut off the computer and dragged him to bed. Tomorrow, they’d get hold of the city’s archive.
Adam and Kris went straight to bed and they thought their son had too. Around 5:30 in the morning, Kris was up for an early studio session. He passed his son’s room and saw a light on under the door. He knocked quietly and when he didn’t get an answer, he went in. Josh was asleep at his desk beside the computer. Shaking his head, Kris turned off the machine and managed to rouse Josh enough to lead him to his bed where he collapsed and fell back asleep. Heading back to the desk to shut off the light, Kris noticed a piece of paper beside the keyboard. It read - Emma Triplehorn Nesbitt, Yonkers, NY.
Proud and annoyed by his boy’s stubbornness, Kris slipped back to his own bedroom and tried to wake up his husband. The sleeping lump wouldn’t budge so Kris wrote him a note and taped it to the toilet paper, knowing it would be found within minutes of Adam waking up.
Kris had a sinking suspicion they would be buying airline tickets by the end of the week.
--*--
Josh had searched multiple databases that night, going through birth, death, wedding announcement, census reports, and following any leads. Eventually, he located Emma living in a nursing home in Yonkers. He realized how terrific his parents were when he told them he wanted to deliver the letter and they informed him they already booked a suite in New York for the weekend and the tickets would be waiting for them at the airport.
A couple of days prior to leaving, they’d contacted the nursing home and using a little of their celebrity - it came in handy sometimes - they managed to make contact with her son and daughter-in-law. Emailing a scanned image of the letter, Emma’s family compared the handwriting to letters they had from Harry, Emma’s older brother, who had died in the South Pacific. It was a match and they were more than happy to see the letter finally delivered.
Josh waited impatiently in their hotel room, clutching at the letter like it would vanish if loosened his grip. Adam and Kris watched him fidget and twitch his foot. They were just as nervous but held it together; no sense making their boy feel worse.
“Is the car here yet?” Josh asked for the umpteenth time.
“No, not yet,” Kris replied calmly, looking through the New York Times.
“What’s taking so long?”
“We’re being picked up at two and it’s only 12:30,” Adam responded as he channel surfed. “Hey, there’s a Live from Lincoln Center on PBS, come watch it with me.”
“No thanks.”
“It’s a tribute to Gershwin. You love Gershwin.”
“Not today.”
“We haven’t had lunch yet. Let’s go downstairs for lunch,” his Dad suggested.
“Go ahead, I’m not hungry.”
Adam and Kris looked at each other; they had to do something. Adam shut off the TV, Kris put down his paper and grabbed their coats. Adam removed the letter from Josh’s sweaty grip so quickly, the young man didn’t have time to react, and tucked it safely in his pocket.
“We are ALL going outside for some air.”
“But the car…”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time for the car. Let’s go.”
It was a warm May day and the sun shone down as best it could between the skyscrapers. A few people recognized Adam and Kris and asked for autographs but for the most part, they were left in peace. They made their way down to Battery Park and looked over the harbor and at the Statue of Liberty. They leaned against the railing, lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Josh broke the silence. “Do you guys ever get scared for Hannah, I mean being in the military?”
“Not right now, since she’s in Virginia, but yeah, I do get scared when I think she might get stationed in a war zone,” Kris answered quietly. “But it’s her career, it’s what she wants to do.”
“What about you Papa? Do you get scared too?”
“I try to think of the soldiers she’s helping and all the good she’s doing.” Adam looked away, head a little low. “I try not to think about the rest, not until I have to.”
Josh rested his head on his Papa’s shoulder and Adam wrapped an arm around him. “How about you Josh?”
“I’m proud of her but every time I see a news report about another soldier getting killed, I get this knot in my stomach and feel guilty.”
Kris touched his arm. “Guilty?”
“That I’m happy it’s happening to someone else, not us. I feel like a piece of shit when that happens.”
“I think it’s natural but you don’t need to worry alone; you can talk to us.”
Josh just nodded and Adam kissed him on top of his head.
“I guess that letter has hit me hard. I mean, it was Harry’s last letter to his sister and I keep imagining how she’s going to feel when she finally gets it. I know how’d I feel.”
Kris drew his son into a hug, gazing at Adam over his shoulder. “We are so proud of you Josh. There are a lot of other people who would have just tossed it and not cared about some old letter.”
Kris gave him an extra squeeze then let go, wiping a tear from his own eye. “I think we better get back to the hotel and have some lunch before we go.”
--*--
The car pulled down a quiet neighborhood street and stopped in front of a bungalow. A couple waited on the porch, standing up when the sedan arrived. Kris stepped out first, followed by Adam then Josh. The adults greeted each other, shaking hands and Josh held back, the letter in his hand. Adam turned to him, extending an arm and their son came forward. He didn’t know what to say so he just handed the letter over.
Emma’s son held the envelope on his palm, looking at it intently. He nodded slowly, a wash of emotions over his face. He stepped in front of the boy and hugged him, his voice raspy. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing Harry home.”
--*--
They didn’t get the chance to meet Emma. She was in her late 90s and had had stroke two years ago. She could no longer speak and was very weak; her son was going to tell her on his own. He did assure Josh that she would be eternally grateful for what he did for her and her family. The Allen-Lamberts stayed for coffee and a chance to look at a family photo album and see pictures of Harry. He didn’t look much older than Josh but there was a strength and determination in his eyes that belied his age. He died believing he was protecting peace and freedom.
In their suite that night, they each kept to themselves, dealing with the emotions of the day in their own ways.
Kris sat in the living room, curled up on the couch with hotel stationary propped on a magazine. He wrote: Dear Hannah, I love you….
Adam was cross legged on the bed, soft jazz playing on the hotel’s audio system. He had his laptop in front of him and was sending an email. He typed: Dear Baby Girl, been thinking about you and loving you…
Josh was in his own room, sitting by the window, looking out at the city lights. He pulled out his cell and sent a text. He said: Hey Sis, I <3 u. b safe…
Series: A Year in the Life - May 2010
Date: May 31st - Memorial Day
author: cunningdeb
Rating: G
Pairing: adam/kris
Summary: Josh, Adam and Kris’ son, finds an unsent letter and is determined to see it delivered.
Disclaimer: Pure fiction.
Warning: tissues needed
Part of my Allen-Lambert universe. Josh is 17 years old; Hannah is no longer at home; Mrs. Willowby has retired. My, how time passes <3.
I’ve taken creative license and constricted the time span it would probably take to do this investigation in real life. I’m not even sure if all this information is available online but in my universe it is.
Come Home - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq7OVHBc8ZA
--*--
Josh and his friends spent their Saturday wandering West Hollywood. The girlfriends wanted to shop and their guys were dragged around and used as pack mules. Josh didn’t mind - these girls were mere amateurs at this sport compared to his Papa.
Once you’ve shopped with the best, you can handle the rest.
No storefront was off limits - designer to consignment to second hand. Luckily for Josh, his girl Becka was a picky and frugal shopper so he only lugged around two bags while the other guys were running out of free fingers. The boys waited on the sidewalk as the girls attacked another store.
They talked sports, music, whatever. They were outside an Army surplus store and Josh half listened to his friends as he checked out the items in the window. They were studying the Second World War in American History and Josh found it very interesting. Of course, he had an invested interest in the military since his sister had joined the Navy after graduating from nursing school and was taking care of wounded soldiers.
Maybe it was curiosity, Josh wasn’t sure, but he dumped Becka’s bags in a buddy’s overloaded arms and said he’d be right back.
Josh stepped into a khaki camouflaged world and the musty smell overwhelmed him. It was kind of dark; he thought better about venturing further in.
“Can I help you son?” a voice from nowhere asked. Josh looked around aimlessly. “Over here, behind the counter. Can I help you?”
Josh looked towards the counter and eventually located the older man blending into the background. Boy, camouflage really worked! In his coat against the wall, the man nearly disappeared.
“Not sure.”
“Well, something must have drawn you in.”
Josh chewed his top lip. He felt stupid so he said the first thing that came out of his mouth. “Do you have anything from World War Two?”
The man laughed. “Hell, half the stuff in here is from then. Anything in particular?”
Josh shrugged. “I dunno, clothes…other things.”
The man shook his head and rolled his eyes, chiming off a list of inventory. “Combat boots, aviator shades, coats & jackets of every description, messenger bags…”
“That’s it! I’m looking for a messenger bag.” Josh remembered his Papa had one when he was a teenager.
“New or used?”
“What’s the difference?”
“What’s the…gawd, kids! New is….new, you know, never used, pristine, perfect or nearly. Used is old, worn out, marked but with loads more character.”
He liked character. “Old…I mean used.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Follow me.” The clerk led him to a bin near the back of the store. “There you go. Start looking. I’ll be back at my post when you’re ready to pay…and we don’t take checks.”
“Credit cards?”
“Credit…you can’t use your parents card son.”
“I have my own.”
“No kiddin’,” the clerk exclaimed with a mix of suspicion and awe. “Well, it is LA after all.” He shrugged and walked away.
Josh dug through the leather and canvas bags and found one that caught his attention. It was made from a goldish brown canvas with a long strap to slip over his head and two buckles to keep it closed. It was discolored in some places and the strap looked like it had broken and been repaired several times. It was stamped US Army and had printed across it ‘Envelopes 1,2,3, Deliver To’ but the rest was worn off. Aside from the handle repairs, it had no holes and seemed sturdy enough.
Josh liked it. He liked it a lot. Not too big but big enough for things he liked to, well, carry. He made his way to the clerk.
“I’ll take this one.”
“Mail bag. Good choice.”
He rang it up and Josh handed over his credit card. His parents had set a low limit on it so he wouldn’t go batshit crazy spending money but it gave him some independence. The man looked at the name on the card and glared at the young man with one eyebrow raised. He stayed like that for a bit then shook his head as if saying, ‘Nah, couldn’t be’.
“Do you want a bag or you wearing it out?”
“I’ll wear it out. Thanks for your help.” Josh slipped the receipt inside - that went to his accountant named Dad - and turned to leave.
“Hey kid, are you related to…”
“Who?”
“Ah….forget it. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Josh smirked as he walked out. More times than not he got that look when someone learned his last name. His friends didn’t care - his Dad and Papa were just parents, although really amazing ones.
Becka was waiting for him. “What, no purse for me?”
“It’s not a purse, it’s a World War Two messenger bag.”
“I didn’t know Gucci made army bags,” she joked.
Josh laughed and gave her a kiss. “Keep it up Becka and I may loose my credit card when you’re birthday comes up.”
--*--
“Oh God, do you two always have to be at each other. I mean, you’ve been married forever, isn’t it all used up yet?”
Josh had come home and walked in on his Dad and Papa making out on the couch. He really didn’t mind, he just like busting their chops about it. He was a teenager after all.
Kris climbed off Adam’s lap, wiping his mouth. “How was shopping? Did Becka give you a hernia?”
“No, but I think Keith put his back out carrying Maria’s stuff.”
“Hey, where did you get that?” Adam climbed off the couch, also wiping his mouth. He picked up the bag Josh had dropped on a chair. “It looks like one I had in high school.”
“It’s vintage WWII. Maybe it is the one you had in high school.”
Adam stuck out his tongue.
“Alright boys, time for dinner.” Kris grabbed their arms and led them to the kitchen.
--*--
Three days later, Josh came home from school and tossed his bag on the bed. He changed out of his uniform and started digging through the bag for a small sheet of paper with a website link on it for one of his assignments. Not able to find it, it dumped everything out then started searching the pockets inside and found a rip in the lining.
Damn, he could have gotten a discount for that!
Under the lining, he felt something. Maybe his paper? He reached in the rip and pulled out a letter - an old letter. The envelope was browning and stained and the writing on it was fading away. Josh couldn’t read the name very well - the handwriting was atrocious - but he managed to make out San Diego. There was no zip code and the postmark showed 1942.
Josh fell down beside his bag. Wow. This had been stuck in his bag for over 75 years. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t been discovered earlier. It was freaky…and intriguing.
--*--
When Adam had called to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner, he noted a bit of frustration in Josh’s voice. He let it pass as normal teen moodiness so when he stepped in the front door around ten and was literally dragged by his son to the library before the door clicked shut, Adam knew something was up.
“Finally!” Kris exclaimed from his seat in front of the computer.
“What’s up guys? A tad stressed?”
“How well do you know San Diego?”
“Well I did grow up there - you know that - but it’s been years. Why?”
Josh thrust the envelope into his Papa’s hands. “Can you make out that address? Does it look familiar to you? What about the name? Can you read it?”
“Whoa, hold on a sec.” Adam set down his bag and removed his jacket. He took the envelope and started looking at it then abruptly stopped. “What’s this all about?”
“I found this in my new old messenger bag. I think it got stuck in the lining and was never delivered. I want to deliver it.”
“You what?”
“I suggested we donate it to a local archive,” Kris added, “but junior wants to see if we can find the addressee and deliver it.”
“Talk about a late delivery!”
“That’s what he wants to do. So we’re going to try and if we can’t get anywhere, then Josh agreed to donate it.”
“I just have a feeling that whatever is in it is important.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “Important enough to be relevant almost 80 years later?”
“I don’t know what’s inside,” Josh declared, pacing, “and I don’t want to know - it’s private - but what if it’s, like, the last letter a soldier sent home to his family or girlfriend just before he died. Wouldn’t that mean something, even after all this time?”
Kris grabbed his son’s hand and stopped him. “That’s a kind gesture son but you know there’s a very real chance we won’t be able to find them after so long.”
“But we can try.”
Adam looked at the computer screen. “Looks like you’ve already been trying.” He got up for a closer look at the data. “Whatcha got here?”
“We’ve been looking at a directory of streets in San Diego. It’s kind of hard to read the writing on the envelope so we’ve been guessing and seeing if there are any matches,” Kris explained.
“Any luck?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe the street name changed, or it’s no longer there,” Adam suggested.
“What do you think it says?”
Adam looked it over and started rhyming off possibilities. Kris typed them in and after eight tries, they found a match. Unfortunately, there was now a retail outlet at that address.
“You mentioned archives. Why not look up the city’s historical records, old city planning maps, see what you can find.”
Kris nodded and let his fingers do the work. In the meantime, Adam handed his son the phone.
“What’s this for?”
“Call the store and ask if they know where the bag came from. Maybe they have records.”
“Already tried. It came with a bunch of other stuff from a distributor and they got it from another distributor and….”
“No one kept records.”
“Yup.”
Josh’s Papa looked at the envelope again. “It’s a shame the sender’s name is completely gone. It definitely would have helped. Are you sure you want to do all this work?”
“If Hannah had sent us mail and it got lost, wouldn’t you want it no matter how long it took?” Josh went for the jugular and his parents silently nodded.
“There’s a magnifying glass in the desk drawer Josh. Get it for me?” Adam sat beneath a reading light and flicked it on. “Let’s see what we can make out.”
--*--
The three men worked at it til after midnight and hit a brick wall. Kris and Adam resigned themselves to the fact that too much time had passed. Even though they now had a name to work with - Miss Emma Triplehorn - they lost the trail after the family left San Diego in the mid-1950s. Josh refused to give in until his Dad and Papa literally shut off the computer and dragged him to bed. Tomorrow, they’d get hold of the city’s archive.
Adam and Kris went straight to bed and they thought their son had too. Around 5:30 in the morning, Kris was up for an early studio session. He passed his son’s room and saw a light on under the door. He knocked quietly and when he didn’t get an answer, he went in. Josh was asleep at his desk beside the computer. Shaking his head, Kris turned off the machine and managed to rouse Josh enough to lead him to his bed where he collapsed and fell back asleep. Heading back to the desk to shut off the light, Kris noticed a piece of paper beside the keyboard. It read - Emma Triplehorn Nesbitt, Yonkers, NY.
Proud and annoyed by his boy’s stubbornness, Kris slipped back to his own bedroom and tried to wake up his husband. The sleeping lump wouldn’t budge so Kris wrote him a note and taped it to the toilet paper, knowing it would be found within minutes of Adam waking up.
Kris had a sinking suspicion they would be buying airline tickets by the end of the week.
--*--
Josh had searched multiple databases that night, going through birth, death, wedding announcement, census reports, and following any leads. Eventually, he located Emma living in a nursing home in Yonkers. He realized how terrific his parents were when he told them he wanted to deliver the letter and they informed him they already booked a suite in New York for the weekend and the tickets would be waiting for them at the airport.
A couple of days prior to leaving, they’d contacted the nursing home and using a little of their celebrity - it came in handy sometimes - they managed to make contact with her son and daughter-in-law. Emailing a scanned image of the letter, Emma’s family compared the handwriting to letters they had from Harry, Emma’s older brother, who had died in the South Pacific. It was a match and they were more than happy to see the letter finally delivered.
Josh waited impatiently in their hotel room, clutching at the letter like it would vanish if loosened his grip. Adam and Kris watched him fidget and twitch his foot. They were just as nervous but held it together; no sense making their boy feel worse.
“Is the car here yet?” Josh asked for the umpteenth time.
“No, not yet,” Kris replied calmly, looking through the New York Times.
“What’s taking so long?”
“We’re being picked up at two and it’s only 12:30,” Adam responded as he channel surfed. “Hey, there’s a Live from Lincoln Center on PBS, come watch it with me.”
“No thanks.”
“It’s a tribute to Gershwin. You love Gershwin.”
“Not today.”
“We haven’t had lunch yet. Let’s go downstairs for lunch,” his Dad suggested.
“Go ahead, I’m not hungry.”
Adam and Kris looked at each other; they had to do something. Adam shut off the TV, Kris put down his paper and grabbed their coats. Adam removed the letter from Josh’s sweaty grip so quickly, the young man didn’t have time to react, and tucked it safely in his pocket.
“We are ALL going outside for some air.”
“But the car…”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time for the car. Let’s go.”
It was a warm May day and the sun shone down as best it could between the skyscrapers. A few people recognized Adam and Kris and asked for autographs but for the most part, they were left in peace. They made their way down to Battery Park and looked over the harbor and at the Statue of Liberty. They leaned against the railing, lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Josh broke the silence. “Do you guys ever get scared for Hannah, I mean being in the military?”
“Not right now, since she’s in Virginia, but yeah, I do get scared when I think she might get stationed in a war zone,” Kris answered quietly. “But it’s her career, it’s what she wants to do.”
“What about you Papa? Do you get scared too?”
“I try to think of the soldiers she’s helping and all the good she’s doing.” Adam looked away, head a little low. “I try not to think about the rest, not until I have to.”
Josh rested his head on his Papa’s shoulder and Adam wrapped an arm around him. “How about you Josh?”
“I’m proud of her but every time I see a news report about another soldier getting killed, I get this knot in my stomach and feel guilty.”
Kris touched his arm. “Guilty?”
“That I’m happy it’s happening to someone else, not us. I feel like a piece of shit when that happens.”
“I think it’s natural but you don’t need to worry alone; you can talk to us.”
Josh just nodded and Adam kissed him on top of his head.
“I guess that letter has hit me hard. I mean, it was Harry’s last letter to his sister and I keep imagining how she’s going to feel when she finally gets it. I know how’d I feel.”
Kris drew his son into a hug, gazing at Adam over his shoulder. “We are so proud of you Josh. There are a lot of other people who would have just tossed it and not cared about some old letter.”
Kris gave him an extra squeeze then let go, wiping a tear from his own eye. “I think we better get back to the hotel and have some lunch before we go.”
--*--
The car pulled down a quiet neighborhood street and stopped in front of a bungalow. A couple waited on the porch, standing up when the sedan arrived. Kris stepped out first, followed by Adam then Josh. The adults greeted each other, shaking hands and Josh held back, the letter in his hand. Adam turned to him, extending an arm and their son came forward. He didn’t know what to say so he just handed the letter over.
Emma’s son held the envelope on his palm, looking at it intently. He nodded slowly, a wash of emotions over his face. He stepped in front of the boy and hugged him, his voice raspy. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing Harry home.”
--*--
They didn’t get the chance to meet Emma. She was in her late 90s and had had stroke two years ago. She could no longer speak and was very weak; her son was going to tell her on his own. He did assure Josh that she would be eternally grateful for what he did for her and her family. The Allen-Lamberts stayed for coffee and a chance to look at a family photo album and see pictures of Harry. He didn’t look much older than Josh but there was a strength and determination in his eyes that belied his age. He died believing he was protecting peace and freedom.
In their suite that night, they each kept to themselves, dealing with the emotions of the day in their own ways.
Kris sat in the living room, curled up on the couch with hotel stationary propped on a magazine. He wrote: Dear Hannah, I love you….
Adam was cross legged on the bed, soft jazz playing on the hotel’s audio system. He had his laptop in front of him and was sending an email. He typed: Dear Baby Girl, been thinking about you and loving you…
Josh was in his own room, sitting by the window, looking out at the city lights. He pulled out his cell and sent a text. He said: Hey Sis, I <3 u. b safe…