No One's A Fool (Revised & Complete)

Chapter 6

This time, it wasn't the Imperial Hotel, where he had gone halfway around the world to track her down all those years ago, after one of the many times she threatened to break up with him. Now, it was the Davenport in Spokane, Washington.

It hadn't been hard to figure out where she was staying – the Eagles always stayed there when they came through town, because it was the nicest hotel in the city. Joe knew Stevie and the rest of her entourage well enough to know they wouldn't bother looking elsewhere.

"May I help you, sir?" The woman at the front desk asked, her voice polite.

"I'm looking for Sara Anderson's room number, please."

"I'm sorry, sir. Miss Anderson has very tight security, as you may be aware of. All visitors must be announced. Does she know you're coming?"

"No, but I think she'll want to see me. Can you phone her and see if I can come up? Tell her it's Joe Walsh, she'll recognize me."

"I can certainly try." The woman smiled at him and picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Katherine with the front desk. I have a Joe Walsh here who would like to see Miss Anderson." There was a pause. "Yes ma'am. Not a problem. Thank you." She hung up the phone and looked at Joe. "She asked if you can wait five minutes before going up."

"Sure." Joe shrugged. He took a step back from the counter, took out his cell phone, and dialed Marjorie.

"Are you there?" Marjorie asked him, sounding as if she'd been waiting just as impatiently as he had.

"I'm in the lobby. The desk clerk called up. She's going to see me in five minutes."

"I can't believe you got ahold of her that easily!"

"I can. She's a creature of habit. She's still going by the same fake name she did thirty years ago."

"Well that's a lucky break! Do you know what you're going to say?"

"I still haven't figured that out yet. I just want to ask her about Wrenna, you know? I want to know about her, Marjorie. It's been thirty years."

"I don't think that's too much to ask, Joe. Just keep your cool. Don't get smart with her." Marjorie advised him.

"She won't be as big of a problem as her girlfriends. If I can get past them, that's half the battle right there."

"Just be careful, Joe. Use your head." He smiled at how well Marjorie knew him. She'd been saying this to him for years, and it had always proved invaluable. Maybe if he'd met his wife sooner, he could have avoided a lot of past mistakes.

"I'll use my head." He assured her. "I'll call you when I'm out."

As he headed into the elevator he tried to collect his thoughts. He knew that if he attacked her, if he made her feel at all threatened, it would be over. Stevie was never afraid to start screaming at him, or to simply walk out. But how could he ask her what he wanted to without her feeling like he was interrogating her? Would she even let him ask her anything?

He deserved to know about his daughter, he thought. But in truth, he didn't believe that. He'd gave up the right to know anything when he abandoned Stevie back in 1987 – an act that he would come to regret deeply over the next three decades. It was his fault he was in this situation, and he knew better than to go in there guns blazing. He shuddered to think of how she had begged him all those years ago.

"Please!" She had said. "Please don't abandon her! I don't care about myself. I don't care if you never speak to me again, but please don't walk out of her life too! Joe, will you please get help? Will you please come and see her?"

But he hadn't gotten help, and he wouldn't for another ten years. By then, it would be too late, and he would be too ashamed to come knocking on their door. By then, Mick and Stevie had taken up together, Mick adding his last name to Wrenna's birth certificate, and he couldn't bring himself to disrupt Stevie's life once more. He had already done so much damage. He'd promised her the world and given her the weight of it instead.

Hell, he wouldn't blame her if she slapped him across the fact, just as she had done the last time they spoke, back in the spring of 1987. When she realized the screaming and cursing wouldn't work, and neither would the begging, she'd come to him one final time. Six months pregnant, she appeared at is house and asked him calmly to be a father. Drink in hand, he'd said something to the effect of, "I'll do what I want." The words were barely out of his mouth when he felt her hand across his cheek. The slap was fierce, stinging, and when he recovered he saw her standing perfectly still in front of him, tears falling down her cheeks.

"You've always been a bastard. And now you've made your daughter one too." The words hurt him more than he could ever tell her. He had been a bastard child, before his own stepfather adopted him at the age of five. Hearing that word again, along with the news that the baby was a girl, was too much for him to take. He turned his back on her, and she retreated. Before she'd even closed the door, he was back in the bottle.

A quarter of a century had passed since that day, and he'd never gotten over the guilt of it all. And now here he was, knocking on the hotel door of a woman he'd walked out on when she was pregnant with his own child.

What am I even doing here? He wondered, as someone unlocked the door and turned the knob. And then, once again, he stood face to face with Stephanie Lynn Nicks.