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Dottie's Unexpected Guest

by Anne O'Donnell
2/03/2021 / Short Stories

Dottie opened the front door expecting to see Mr. Fisher for his 3:00 reservation, but instead, stared into the face of a stranger who appeared perturbed and disoriented. Looking like a tattered vagabond, the elderly gentleman stepped across the threshold and shuffled past Dottie down the narrow hallway leading to the dining room and paused, asking if his dinner was ready and waiting on the table.

Dottie needed a second to catch her wits, and followed behind the stranger asking him to state his name and clarify his purpose for entering her home.

The man stared past Dottie as if he was trying to recall the last time he had been there. Dottie had never seen the man before and felt a sudden urge to usher him back to the front door, for her safety, and the safety of her guests visiting Abundant Grace Bed and Breakfast.

“Sir, if you please,” Dottie blurted out, “Let me show you to the front porch and we can talk.” The stranger let his eyes remain fixed on the wall sconces as the candles flickered and cast dancing shadows as though they were welcoming him home. A smile emerged around the corners of his mouth, and pointing to the wallpaper he sighed, “Missus, you done seen these flowers here? I picked them for my momma. Yeah, pretty momma loved yellow, and would give me a hug for every bouquet I brought her from down by the river.”

The sweat accumulating in Dottie’s palms forced her to gather a section of her apron and ruffle the fabric through her fingers, in an attempt to remain calm and allow her mind to decipher the identity of this man who seemed confused yet adamant about his understanding of the history of this house.

“May I get your name please sir? My name is Miss Dottie, and I own this place. I’d be more than obliged if you would allow me to know your name,” Dottie pleaded.

Franklin glanced up to her face. “Miss Dottie, aye, don’t reckon anyone lived here by that name.”

“And you sir, what brings you to Lola, Kansas?” Dottie managed to blurt out in spite of her growing impatience.

The stranger glanced at Dottie, then let his eyes wander to some photos hanging in the hallway. Without warning, he raised his voice in consternation and demanded to know from Dottie what happened.

“If you are hiding something from me, I will turn you in to the authorities! It is my right to know where my momma and papa went after the fire, and why they never came back for me!”

By now, Dottie felt aghast at the tone of voice coming from this intruder, and insisted he step outside, so as not to disturb the guests on the other side of the wall.

Dottie held a steadfast glare into the man's eyes and spoke, “Sir, tell me again your name, I would like to offer you some tea if you’d be so kind to allow me.”

“Franklin O’Hare’s the name, firstborn of the rich and famous Preston and Fanny Pierce. Cept my name got changed to O’Hare when they good folks adopted me. My real papa ran the First Herald Bank and momma made the best pies this side of the Mississippi. They was good folk, they was, always helping the neighbors and offering food when they done had none.

When Dottie heard the name Pierce and the First Herald Bank, the hairs on her head stood straight up, sending ripples of goosebumps up and down her arms. She recalled hearing disturbing talk about an incident involving some bankers in this town and how a fire swept through, causing deaths and leaving a wake of devastation in its path. And now a stranger was standing in her presence recalling a tragedy she wished to remove from her memory.

Dottie had carried the images of the fire and the town’s people in her mind, unable to comprehend something so awful. Who could stoop so low to burn a bank over a banker’s refusal to hand out a loan illegally? Dottie shuddered at the thought of someone striking back with such hatred, and offered a silent prayer to God, thanking him for the peace that had settled upon the area in the years following the trauma.

Dottie clamored for reassuring words to her new acquaintance, “I am sure as sorry for your loss, Mr. O'Hare. Of course you have a burden to know more about your momma and papa! I reckon some of the other folks living here may recall more details than I am able to tell.”

“Always had a searching in my heart to go back to my roots, and now I see there ain’t much waiting for me here cept maybe one thing,” Franklin retorted.

“And what might that be Mr. O’Hare?”

Without offering the reply Dottie wanted to hear, Franklin continued to prove his connection to a past that included this house. He went on the share that, after all these years, he felt the urgency to return to his home town generations later, convinced there was something waiting for him, even though the current occupants never knew his family or his history.

Dottie apologized for the way she had so abruptly greeted Franklin, and excused herself to fetch some hot tea, so they could sit down in peace and reacquaint on friendlier terms.

Upon returning to the front porch, and extending a warm consolation to Franklin, Dottie spoke up. “Sir, Mr. O’Hare, I’d like to invite you to stay for our evening meal. We are kind and friendly folks here, and we always welcome the company of a new guest. Won’t you do us the honor of joining us at our table tonight?”

Franklin glanced up and stared at Dottie, hiding his reaction to her invitation, and leaving Dottie in suspense as to why the hesitation to accept her offer. He then slowly leaned forward, and in a hushed tone she could barely hear, he asked, "May I take a look around, you know, for old times’ sake." Dottie contemplated for a moment and said with heartfelt ease, “Sure, Mr. O’Hare, let’s tour the house after dinner and walk you down memory lane. That is the least I can do for you – give you a gift of the past to sooth your soul.”

As dinner came to a close, and the guests dispersed to their various rooms, Franklin got up from his chair and came around the table to whisper something into Dottie’s ear. “The closet,” he murmured. “It was in the back of the closet. Best I check there first, if you don’t mind.”

Dottie cast a bewildered look to Franklin, not expecting this specific location to be first on his list of places to inspect for past memories. She managed to hide the questions lurking in her mind, and lead Franklin to the staircase leading up to the attic which matched the description of his memories of the bed, the walls, the windows, and the closet.

Dottie’s heart began to beat wildly, never having entertained the thought that perhaps a family treasure, or momentum, or an heirloom of sorts could have been left behind from generations ago. She held her breath in anticipation, wanting to believe Franklin knew something she didn’t, yet doubting if his memory served him correctly at his age, especially having shown signs of it in the hallway just hours earlier.

Dottie stepped back, and sighed deeply. Franklin spotted a familiar wall, and placed his hand on a lever that when tugged at, lifted up enough to let his hand slip inside the cracked open door enough to pry it open without too much effort. With his blood pressure escalating and adrenaline taking over, he turned to look at Dottie with anticipation and disappointment mixed into one.

Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he reached in and touched the surfaces hidden in darkness, and suddenly stopped when his hand rested on a leather surface, one so familiar to him, his head fell down and he wept. Uncontrollable sobs fell from his lips, and his shoulders buckled under the heavy weight of relief, tenderness, and love for this priceless and precious treasure, hidden all these years, yet waiting for his return. His heart swelled with life and sadness, love and sorrow, and laughter and tears as he pulled from the closet a Bible from decades ago, staring at it in utter disbelief that God has preserved this gift for his arrival today.

He removed the book from the closet, pressed it into his heart and fell to his knees. “Oh God, oh God! My parents, my Bible, my home - my heart is overwhelmed at your goodness to me. I never expected I would find it, but here it is, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Franklin remained lost in his thoughts, and Dottie proceeded to leave him alone with God, as he needed this healing in his soul like never before.

As Dottie descended the steps, slowly and astounded by this visitation of an unexpected guest, she turned her thoughts to God, and thanked him for allowing her to witness a display of his mercy to man who trusted him for peace and found it.

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