What’s your big family secret? The story whispered beyond earshot of the kids, the question nobody asks Grandma? Will it stay buried? Some secrets should. Others, though, yearn to see the light. Nothing can stop them from coming out.
Raymond Gooch was a young man who was missing a piece of his past, a piece he never expected to find. A twenty-three-year-old partner in a leather-goods store, he traveled from town to town taking orders from fashion retailers for custom, handcrafted belts. On a sunny summer day in 1980, Raymond climbed out of his car on the south side of Knoxville, Tennessee, ready to sell. He was optimistic about his prospects. But as he started his rounds, he felt a strange urging: Go to the north side of town.
The north side? His potential customers were here on the south side. Raymond puzzled over the strange feeling and decided to compromise. If I don’t sell anything at my first stop, I’ll know I’m supposed to be on the north side.
Raymond strode confidently into the first business he saw and launched into his pitch, but the manager cut him off without even glancing at his samples. “We’re not interested,” he snapped.
He got back on Interstate 75 and drove north to the first exit: Merchant’s Drive. That sounded promising. As his dad, Buddy, would say, “Go with your gut, son.” He parked at a shopping center. Clothing store, shoe store—great places to sell—but the urge took hold of him again. The Baldwin Piano Company—that’s where Raymond had to go, even if he didn’t have a clue why.
Pamella Parker had no idea either. The twenty-seven-year-old piano saleswoman had worked at the Baldwin Piano Company for about a year, since moving to Knoxville. She’d dealt with plenty of people selling used instruments or wanting to leave flyers advertising piano lessons. So she just didn’t know what to make of the young man selling . . . belts. She wasn’t surprised when her manager politely sent the man on his way.
“You have a good day now, Mr. Gooch,” Pam overheard the manager say. She saw Raymond headed for the door.
Pam called out to him, “It’s nice to hear a familiar name! My maiden name is Gooch.”
Raymond turned, a bit stunned. He’d never met anyone outside his family with his last name. “Maybe we’re distant cousins,” he said, half joking.
The two salespeople got to talking. Pam had grown up in Orlando, but she’d moved to Knoxville after a divorce. “I came to work here because I love to play music.”
“Me too,” Raymond said. “I’ve been playing piano since I was six.”
“I got the music gene from my late father,” said Pam. “He played piano and saxophone—he could play anything he put his mind to, really.”
“My grandfather was a fantastic musician,” Raymond said. “He met my grandma playing piano and sax with a jazz band. At least that’s what Grandma Irene told me. Dad . . . well, he never knew his father . . .” Raymond trailed off. There was more to the story, he’d always felt. His dad and grandma never talked much about it. But in his heart, he knew.
“My father was Elmer Gooch,” Pam said. “Maybe your grandma would know who . . .”
“Elmer?” Raymond interrupted, his eyes widening. “That was my grandfather’s name!”
Later that day, Buddy listened to Raymond’s excited phone call. “I don’t believe it,” Buddy said and hung up. Five minutes later, he called back. “Tell me this again,” he said. “I have a half sister? Twenty-two years younger? You actually met her?”
Weeks later, Pam, Raymond, and Buddy paid a visit to Irene Gooch. Pam brought a photo of her dad. “That’s him,” Grandma Irene said. “Buddy’s father. We were married for three months. He left me in Ohio to look for work in Florida. Soon after, I discovered I was pregnant. I waited for him to send for me, but he never did. All these years, we wondered . . .”
“I knew he’d been married before,” Pam said, “but I never suspected the truth. He took it to his grave.” And it had stayed there. Until a young belt salesman followed an urge he didn’t understand and found an aunt he never knew. And a family secret was finally revealed.