Discussions
Mr. Stark stops the car in Dr. Connors’ drive way. He looks at me and says,
“You sure?”
I take a deep breath. “No. But what choice do I have?”
He nods, and says, “Good. Let’s do this then.” With that, he unlocks the car and we both get out.
The air is warm, hinting at the coming summer. Dr. Connors’ house is a small brick ranch style, with white shutters and a black tiled roof. The door is a pale green. I ball my hands into fists, then release them. My stomach is jittery as I walk up to the door. With only a moment’s hesitation, I knock three times.
At first, nothing happens. I lean over to Mr. Stark and whisper, “Do you think he’s home?”
“Yeah. His car is here.”
I look over at the small Prius in the driveway. “Right.” Turning back to the door, I fidget with the top button of my shirt. After toying with it for about ten seconds, Mr. Stark says,
“Seriously, Pete. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just nervous. I mean, what if this guy can tell me what happened?”
“Oh believe me, no one doubted you were nervous.”
I force a chuckle. “Right.”
The door opens, and I jump back with a gasp of surprise. A man stands before me, with pale blond hair and glasses. He wears a green button-down shirt, one sleeve tied up where he has lost an arm, and neatly pressed khakis.
“Hello?” he asks in a light British accent.
“Dr. Connors,” I say. “I’ve um…I like your research.”
Mr. Stark sighs behind me. My face goes a beet red. That’s seriously the best thing I can say? This guy knew my parents!
“Well, I thank you, but this is a home, and it’s very late. So I’m afraid I must bid you goodbye. You can drop by my office tomorrow,” he says, moving to close the door.
Right when the door is about to close, I raise my voice and say,
“I’m Richard and Mary Parker’s son.”
The door stops, then opens. Dr. Connors looks at me with a new shock, then whispers,
“Peter?”
-------
In moments, Mr. Stark and I are sitting in Dr. Connors living room, each sitting on a chair near the fireplace. The living room connects to the kitchen with a bar, and Dr. Connors moves in the kitchen, getting us drinks.
“I’m so sorry, Peter, you caught me a bit unprepared. And Mr. Stark, of course.”
“Sorry,” I say, as he comes back in and hands me a cup of tea. I’m not much of a tea drinker, but MJ is determined to change that, so I take the cup and sip it. It’s actually pretty good, with a sweet orange scent. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s perfectly all right,” he says, handing Mr. Stark his drink and sitting on the couch opposite us with his own. “I’m happy to have you. I hardly recognized you, of course. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you.”
My heart skips a beat. “We’ve met before?”
“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I used to see you when I visited your parents’ home, as I often did in those days. You were so small then.” He chuckles. “I even remember when you were born.”
“You do?” I say softly.
“Yes, it was a humid Sunday in August. It was raining, as I recall. Your parents called me and told me you’d been born. I was the first to see you, apart from your parents. You were so small, they were worried. But you had some strength in you, even then.”
I look down, a small smile on my face. It was raining on the day I was born. I never knew that.
“But…why haven’t you called? Or emailed, or something?” I say, looking back up.
He sighs and looks away. For several seconds, he doesn’t say anything. Mr. Stark looks at me and in his eyes I can read what he might say.
Dr. Connors doesn’t want to talk about this.
But then the man speaks.
“After they passed, I was distraught. All that research, gone. Those kind people, who only ever wanted to help others, dead. My best friends. I was sad and…angry.” He looks back at me. “And so I stayed away from you and your family, and for that I am truly sorry.” He takes a breath. “I didn’t know if you would even want to speak to me.”
For a moment, I can’t find the words. I don’t blame him, not even a little bit. But it’s written all over his face that he thinks I do. My heart aches, and I gulp. Then I say,
“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I’m just glad to meet you.”
Dr. Connors smiles, bringing a little bit of happiness back to his face. “And I you, Peter. You’ve become such a wonderful young man. Richard and Mary would be proud.”
I blush and give a smile of my own.
Mr. Stark clears his throat, and Dr. Connors and I both jump.
“Remember why you came here?” he says.
“Right,” I say, biting my bottom lip. I turn to Dr. Connors and say plainly, “I’m trying to find out what happened to my parents.”
“What happened?” he asks with a frown. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I know they died in a plane crash. But I don’t even know where they were going, or what they were doing.”
Dr. Connors releases a breath. “Well I can tell you that much. They were coming to visit me.”
Lightning jolts through my body. “They were?”
“Yes,” he says. “I was upstate at the time, in a private labratory. That lab no longer exists, of course. But they were on their way to it when the plane crashed.” He looks down. “I blamed myself. I thought you would too.”
I blink. “But I don’t.”
He gazes at me. “Thank you, Peter. That’s very kind of you.”
“So do you know what was wrong with the plane?” I ask. “Why it crashed?”
He shrugs. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I always assumed it was some kind of mechanical failure.”
I nod. “Okay. Thanks, Dr. Connors.”
“You’re very welcome, Peter.”
-------
Mr. Stark and I drive back to the apartment in silence. We’re driving up into the building’s parking lot, when he says,
“So is that it?”
“What?” I look at him. “I mean, yeah, I guess.”
“It seems a little too easy.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But I found out where they were going.”
“I don’t know.” He looks around, then leans in to say, “Maybe look into why the plane crashed.”
“Really? Why?”
He sits back. “It’s too simple, Pete. They were going to visit a friend when the plane just crashed? I don’t believe it.”
“How can you say that?” I say, a sharp edge coming into my voice. “For the last time, Mr. Stark, they weren’t killed.”
“I’m not saying that Pete, just consider it a possibility—”
“Whatever,” I say, getting out and slamming the door. Without even saying goodbye, I storm up to the apartment, giving May and MJ the barest greeting before retreating to my room and closing the door.
With a sigh, I flop face-first onto the bed. I want to be mad, I really do. But a part of me knows Mr. Stark may be right. I just don’t want to accept it.
That doesn’t stop me from texting Ned at 2 am, saying,
‘Can you help me look into something?’ If anyone can find those plane records, Ned can.