him for his twelfth birthday. I brought it with me when I left the house, just in case I ever saw him again. I thought he’d like having it back. Do you want me to get it for you?”
The idea that Petey’s precious hairbrush was one of the few treasures Naomi had lugged to the mission in her puny paper bag full of possessions raised goose bumps on my legs. She had really loved the guy and still did.
“Please,” I said.
“Will I get it back when you’re finished with it?”
“For sure!” I promised.
“Okay. It’s in my room. I’ll go get it.”
Naomi left. I glanced over at Rachel Seymour, who was smiling. “I don’t think that was quite what you expected, was it?”
Boy howdy, did she ever have me there!
Naomi returned a few minutes later, carrying a man’s classic military-style hairbrush with a wooden back. When she handed the brush to me and I examined it, I saw that the black bristles were knotted with strands of light brown hair. If follicles were present, DNA profile here we come!
As soon as I held the brush in my hand, though, I realized that once upon a time I used to have one just like it. My mother had bought it for me, also as a birthday present, at a no-longer-extant Seattle department store called Frederick & Nelson. On our limited budget, buying that brush had counted as a big splurge. My birthday brush traveled with me to Vietnam but never made it back home. I don’t know if I simply misplaced it at some point or if someone swiped it. Seeing Petey Mayfield’s brush made me miss mine. In that instant it also made me miss my mother.
“I loved him,” Naomi murmured sadly. “I really wanted Petey to come back.”
“I can tell,” I told her.
“If you do find him, will you let me know?”
“Yes,” I said definitively. “I certainly will.”
When I’d told Hilda Tanner more or less the same thing, I hadn’t meant it in quite the same way. This time it was a blood oath.
“What if you find him and he refuses to sign?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I told her. “But about that relinquishment of rights, you’re positive you won’t change your mind after you sign?”
“I won’t,” she said.
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ve already demonstrated to myself and to the rest of the world that I don’t make good decisions. If I can’t be trusted to look after myself on my own, how can I be trusted to look after a baby? My dad and grandma will do a better job of that than I ever would.”
“You know that to be true?” I repeated.
“I do.”
“Okay, then I’ll set it up. We can probably come here for the signing. Is it okay if I give Reverend Seymour a call to sort out the details?”
“That’s fine,” Naomi said. “I don’t exactly own a phone.” She stood up. “If it’s all right, I want to go now.”
“There’s one more thing,” I added as she headed for the door.
What?” Naomi asked.
“Your dad wanted me to tell you how sorry he is about the things he said to you when your mother was so sick. If he could take back those words, he would.”
Naomi looked down at her feet. When she raised her head moments later, her face had softened. “I’ve been on the streets for a long time, Mr. Beaumont. I’ve been called lots worse than that more times than I can remember. Tell Dad he’s forgiven. And when you set up the time to meet with that social worker, maybe he and Athena could come along. She was so tiny and sick in the delivery room that they took her away from me as soon as she was born. I got to see her, but I never got to touch her.”
Suddenly I was beset by a new worry. If Naomi was able to see Athena, what were the chances she might still change her mind about signing? How could she not? That’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t say a word of it aloud.
“You’ve got it,” I told her. “I expect your dad will be here with bells on.”
Lucy and I left then. As we headed home on Fourth Avenue, I knew I was about to have a come-to-Jesus moment with Alan Dale. Yes, I’d done what I’d said I would do. I had found Naomi, and I for sure owed Sam Shelton his five hundred bucks. But