Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (5 page)

“To the left of your house.”

Sam thought a minute. Was she the girl Peter
had a running feud with? Uh-oh.

“I’m glad to help. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Lara Stewart. She’s twenty-six
and nice looking from what I’ve been told, so please keep Pete away
from her, okay?”

“If she can’t see him, that’s half the
battle. When do I meet her?”

* * * *

The window next door was closed when Peter
started to practice. As he stumbled on an arpeggio and paused, he
heard it slide open. He shifted his focus to the part giving him
trouble, playing it over and over again. He waited for the nasty
comments from next door, but they never came, so he continued to
play the same part over and over again.

“You’re doing it again! Play it through!”
she yelled.

“Too bad!” he shouted.

“Maybe you should try Chopsticks!”

Peter played Chopsticks three times to annoy
her.

“Enough! Enough! I give up,” she yelled.

Peter smiled at her defeat. He took a deep
breath and went back to practicing the Beethoven piece.

Next door, the window and shade were up.
Peter heard crying and stopped playing for a moment. He switched to
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a sad piece, calculated to annoy her.
She went to the window.

“Very funny! Very funny!” the young woman
screamed, her voice shaking. She banged down the window so hard the
glass rattled. The window bounced up, leaving it open about four
inches. Peter could hear everything.

“What’s going on here?” an unfamiliar female
voice asked. Peter heard soft crying in the background. He stopped
playing.

“Look, you can’t fall apart, Lara. Don’t be
a baby. Stop crying. Pull yourself together and get your life back
on track. Return to New York where you belong. I can’t baby you all
the time. Grow up.”

Peter heard the clomping of heavy footsteps
and the slamming of a door. Turning on the seat, he peeked through
the opening of the window, and saw the back of the girl in the
leotard as she lay curled up on the floor, crying softly. A pang of
guilt stung his heart as he neared the window. Watching her
struggle to get up, reaching for a wall or chair, her hand flailing
blindly only to find nothing but air and crash to the floor again,
intensified his feeling. She sat up on the floor, swearing, then
crawled on all fours over to a chair and pulled herself up and
in.

“Where’s the music?” she called out the
window in an unsteady voice.

Peter sat down and played the Beethoven
sonata all the way through.

* * * *

Sam knocked on the door of the well-kept
gray and white house next door. A woman about thirty-five years
old, with short brown hair and an annoyed look on her face
answered.

“Yes?”

“I’m Sam Caldwell. I’m here to see to Lara
Stewart.”

“Come in, Dr. Caldwell. I’m Fran, Jim’s
fiancée.”

The young lady he assumed to be Lara was
slumped in a chair when Fran barged into her room, with Sam
following close behind.

“Lara, you have company. This is Dr. Sam
Caldwell,” Fran said.

“Doctor, like in medical doctor?” The young
woman asked, sitting up straight in her chair.

“I’m an ornithologist…a PhD, Lara, not a
medical doctor.”

Lara stood up to greet him. Sam reached out
to take her hand. When their fingers met, she screamed and shrank
back.

“Sorry. I forgot to tell you…Lara can’t be
touched.”

Sam peeked out the window and saw Peter
there, listening. He hadn’t told his son where he was going.

“I’m sorry, Lara. I didn’t know. It won’t
happen again,” he said in his deep, soothing voice. He looked at
her battered face, neck and legs and his heart melted. She was an
attractive young woman, about five foot six, with a ballet dancer’s
slim body. Her glossy, fluffy, brown hair had red highlights that
glinted in the light from a bedside lamp.

Sam was impressed with her beauty. She had
slightly full lips, a perfect nose, and a delicate jaw line. He
guessed her skin must have been flawless before the attack. Her
breasts were full, her bottom small and well-toned. Her legs were
trim and strong. She was stunning but fearful.

“I’ll leave you two,” Fran said as she made
a quick exit.

“I’m here to read to you. Or would you
prefer to talk?”

“What would you read?”

“How about the newspaper? Then we can talk
about the news and what’s going on in town.” he suggested, pulling
a folded paper out from under his arm.

“You have a nice voice, Dr. Caldwell, like
my father,” she said, smiling.

“Please call me Sam,” he said. “Where is
your father?”

“Both my mother and father were killed in
the World Trade Center on 9/11.”

Silence filled the room as Sam looked down
at his hands.

“Did you bring a newspaper?” she asked,
positioning her face in the direction of his voice.

“Shall we start with the front page? Do you
want to get comfortable?”

Lara nodded and stood up from the chair.

“Please tell me where the bed is.”

Sam directed her. Lara felt her way around
the wall and sat cross-legged on the bed, hugging a pillow. He
walked over and pulled the coverlet up to her hand. Lara arranged
it around her shoulders.

Sam read the first words from a story then
glanced at the window. He saw Peter move to the side and heard the
beginning of his Beethoven piece.

Chapter Three

In June Dr. Cho gently advised Marcia to
look into hospice care for Jay. He gave her a booklet and the phone
number of a woman in charge of the arrangements. Marcia rang her
and made an appointment to look round.

A few days later, Marcia picked up a sweater
before she went out the front door and pulled it shut. The sun was
shining but there were some clouds in the sky. It was the day for
Marcia’s trip to the hospice. She tried to listen, but her mind
wandered, finding the whole idea of the facility distasteful, even
though the quiet place with its thick carpets and soft blue and
green walls was calming. Although she didn’t believe in miracles,
she wasn’t ready to discuss how to make Jay’s death easier yet.

When she returned home, the door was
unlocked. By now she was used to Jakub Novacek in the house fixing
something or painting something else. The house needed repairs and
perhaps Johnny figured she’d move out after Jay was gone. But where
would she go?

The reality of the hospice drained her
remaining energy. She entered the house feeling dizzy. She clutched
the doorjamb, but her grip slipped. Jakub was fixing a light switch
in the living room when Marcia lost consciousness.

Marcia opened her eyes, wondering how she
got on the sofa. She looked up as Jakub walked in the room with a
bowl of soup on a tray.

“Eat this,” he said, placing the tray on the
coffee table in front of her.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” she said,
pushing the tray away.

“Eat this,” he commanded, pointing to the
bowl on the tray.

She looked up at his furrowed brow and
picked up the spoon. He sat down next to her. Marcia tried to
swallow the soup, but she choked. Then she burst into tears, her
chest rose and fell as she sobbed out of control.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed a look
of alarm on Jakub’s face. He seemed confused, moving his hands one
way and then another. Finally she felt the comfort of his strong
arms, engulfing her and holding her close. Marcia collapsed against
him, her face buried in his chest, her sobbing continued. Finally
out of strength, she quieted down and leaned against him, listening
to his strong heartbeat. He put his hand on her head and stroked
her soft hair. She closed her eyes and imagined he was Jay.

Jakub picked her up and carried her up the
steps and deposited her gently on her bed. After he left the room,
she removed her clothes and slipped between the sheets. The last
thing she heard before she drifted off was the locking of the front
door.

The next morning Marcia woke up to a brusque
command.

“Eat,” Jakub said, placing a tray with
scrambled eggs and toast on the nightstand.

Marcia opened her eyes, alarmed to see him
at first, then she saw the food and smiled. She slept in the nude,
even without Jay in her bed, so when she sat up, she had to pull
the sheet up. At the sight of her bare shoulders, Jakub’s cheeks
turned pink.

“Eat breakfast. Have a good day,” he said,
leaving abruptly.

“Thank you,” she said.

* * * *

After Raj turned off the sign, Deena stepped
out into the light of a street lamp. Rex was waiting for her in
Alan’s car. He opened the door.
Women love it when you open
doors, light cigarettes and that crap. So easy to manipulate, so
predictable.

He got in the car. “Where to?”

“The Sugar and Cream is still open.”

“What is that?” he asked, pulling out of the
parking lot.

“A coffee shop.”

“Isn’t there anyplace nicer?”

“Not at this hour. This is Willow Falls, not
New York City. We gotta get up at sunrise, tend the farm and the
cattle,” she said, smirking.

“If that’s all there is.”

“Next time you can take me at five o’clock.
Then we can go fancy.”

“A second date, already?”

“Maybe…Let’s survive this one first,” she
said, narrowing her eyes.

Rex followed Deena’s directions and pulled
into the parking lot at Sugar and Cream. When they were seated and
ordered, Rex took her hand again.

“What did you do in New York?”

“I was in charge of security at The
Hideaway, a high class nightclub.”

“What business are you in here?”

“It’s a business I thought I might be able
to interest you in.”

“Look, if you’re a pimp, you’re barking up
the wrong tree. I’m not a prostitute and I’m not a whore,” she
said, yanking her hand away from him and tucking her handbag over
her shoulder, preparing to leave.

Rex held up his palm to her. “Nothing like
that.”

She sat back in her seat and put her purse
down.

“I’m in the secrets business. Everybody has
secrets. With your work, you meet plenty of people with secrets.
I’ll bet most of the guys who buy you drinks tell you all kinds of
things…things you can use to make money.”

“Most of the guys who buy me drinks are
trying to get into my pants, usually by telling me how their wife
doesn’t understand their needs.” She sniffed.

“Even that can be used to make money. So
they proposition you?”

“Yeah and I’m not about to sleep with them
for money.” She shouldered her bag.

“I’ll bet they would pay to keep it secret
that they propositioned you.”

“Blackmail?” She stopped and sat back.

“Insurance. Insurance you won’t tell their
wives.” Rex’s face cracked a small smile.

“I’m not going to jam up some poor sucker
who’s only trying to get laid.”

“You wouldn’t. All you do is tell me. I make
contact.”

“Yeah?”

“You get the secrets and give them to me
with a name, and I do the rest. You collect a commission and walk
away. Very easy money.” His smile broadened.

“There is no such thing as easy money. But
this…I don’t have to do anything? Just give you the information?”
She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward.

“Not every customer is going to have a
secret worth money, but only a few good ones about people who can
pay and we’re in business.”

Deena grinned her approval.

“I could sure use some extra money,” she
admitted. “I could get some new clothes. How much would I get?”

“How about forty percent to you and sixty
percent to me because I’m taking all the risk,” he said.

“Sounds fair to me.” She nodded her
agreement.

“If you could get me a job there in
security…” Rex prodded.

“You wanna be the bouncer?”

“I’ve got experience.”

“Right. Benny’s been the bouncer ever since
I started dancing there. But he’s a drunk and often doesn’t show
up.”

“I’m reliable. Even as a bouncer I can pick
up some tidbits. Why don’t you recommend me to the owner?”

“And what would be in it for me to do that?”
Again she narrowed her eyes at him.

“How about a finder’s fee?”

“What’s that?”

“How about I pay you…right now…for your help
getting me the bouncer’s job.”

“How much?” Deena asked.

Rex reached into his pocket and peeled off
some bills.

“Does two hundred dollars make you
happy?”

“Hell, yeah.” Deena’s eyes lit up. She took
the money and put it in her purse.

“I’ll talk to Ray tomorrow. He’s the
manager.”