Installment #42 Kevin

Installment #42

Kevin

Jack quickly caught Kevin up to speed with what he knew, which was not much. Meg was missing. A man she had planned on meeting in Denver was missing. Someone had hacked into her email. That person lived either in Denver or near here. Or both. What did Kevin know? Nothing. He had not even known about the man in Denver. Mom had been a widow for over three years now, so it did not surprise him. Could the man in Denver have done something to Mom?
No.  Jeffery Purcell was missing first.
Had Meg seemed different in any way when he last spoke to her?
No, she was always just mom.

Suddenly the door burst open and Leroy and Ferrel hurried across the yard. “Jack! You are not going to believe this! The computer in Denver belongs to a man named Marshall Purcell! Marshall Purcell is Jeffery Purcell’s twin brother. They have been estranged for years. The father is in Brattleboro, Vermont.  He has not seen either son in several years.  No contact at all with Marshall since before the mother died.  Marshall never went back for the funeral. The father remarried and moved to Vermont or moved to Vermont and then remarried, but shortly after the marriage Jeffery wrote him out of his life.”

Jack frowned as he digested this bit of news.  “This is just getting worse.  Have someone pick up Marshall Purcell and take him in for questioning.  He is going to have some explaining to do about hacking Parkers’ computer.”  He turned to Kevin.  “How does your mom know Marshall Purcell? Who is he?”
Kevin shook his head. “ I have no clue. I never heard her mention him at all. What does he do?  Mom never goes to Denver unless it is business. What does this Purcell guy do?”

Ferrel glanced at his notes. “He is a stock broker. Quite successful. Your mom have stock?”
 “Yeah, but I bought it through my broker. I keep her portfolio and she does not buy anything any more. We are just kind of riding the sinking ship and hoping it makes a comeback.”

Who in the hell was this guy and why was he spying on his mother?  Mom would surely have told him if she were interested in someone.  And she would have told him if she had someone playing inside her computer.  Well, she would have told him had she known it. Leroy disconnected from his call on the cell phone and turned to face the group.  He was very solemn.

“Well, they sent a team to Purcell’s office.  He was not there, but Jennifer, the office manager was and she was quite helpful.  Seems Purcell left the office on Thursday morning and has not been heard from since.  When she went to transfer money from the main account into the payroll account, she found there was nothing to transfer. Seems Marshall Purcell had already transferred it somewhere.  She went to his apartment to confront him, but that is gone too.  Nothing there.  Like he fell off the face of the earth.”

 Kevin sat down on the small patch of grass by the back porch.  Immediately Daisy and Elvira were in his lap.  He laughed as he saw Icarus, Miss Independent cat, watching the dogs.  These three animals had the same disposition as Meg,  all love and happiness.  He stared at the mountain.  What secrets did it hold?  He and Greg had known something was amiss, but never dreamed it would lead to this.  Mom was way to trusting. Meeting a guy on the Internet was absurd.  Making plans to meet him in Denver was even more out of character.  He watched as the fingerprint guy came out and walked to his van. Jack intercepted him. Kevin watched them with their heads together. Goodbyes were said and Jack approached Kevin.

No good news there.  Says a preliminary turned up a lot of prints, but they all seem to be accounted for and he does not have much hope.”

Somehow Kevin was not surprised by this.  He suddenly felt like he was smothering.  “Jack, I am going for a short walk.  Probably up the mountain a ways.  I need to call California and the reception here is not the best.”
Jack nodded.  “ I hear you buddy.   Here is my cell phone number if you need me or see anything unusual just give me a jingle.” Kevin slipped the card into his cell phone case, nodded at the dogs to stay and headed north, up the mountain in the direction Meg had refused to go just a week earlier.  The dogs watched him go a ways and then settled down in the grass and the cat lay in the grass twitching her tail and contemplating a nap.

Installment 39 Fred

Installment #39

Fred

Fred switched on the miner’s light on his hat. Damn glad he had it on there. Well, it was always on his head except when he was sleeping. You just never knew when you might need a light and right now he sure needed one. This tunnel was black as old Coty’s ….well it was black alright. He took a few tentative steps forward. The tunnel was dark, and damp, and musty. He would have bet there were lots of spiders and centipedes and Lord only knew what. It was hard to believe that just a foot above his head the sun was shining very brightly, because down here it was another world. Well, this was no place to wishy wash about something. Just do it. Sooner you do it the sooner it was done. And Fred, although every fiber of his being wanted to turn and run out into the bright sunlight, pointed his lantern forward and walked determinedly forward.  Something was not right and by God in Heaven, Fred Himes was going to find out what it was and for once in his life, set it right.

He was amazed at how quickly he arrived at the back entrance to the house.  Sure seemed a lot further when he was digging the silly thing. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Not a sound.  He knew the man was gone, but still the cabin was deathly quiet. Very slowly he eased the door inward. Nothing. Not even a drippy faucet. Absolute silence. Now the door was completely open. He looked around at the kitchen. Not a dish out of place. The towel hung on the oven door handle. The clock hand moved jerkily around. Fred stepped in the kitchen and closed the tunnel door behind himself. He moved stealthily across the kitchen to the bathroom. Empty. Living room. Undisturbed and empty.

There had to be a woman here somewhere. He had seen the man bring her inside. He very slowly opened the bedroom door and peered inside. No one. Fred stared in consternation at his face in the mirror. Where was she? He canvassed the house once more and then his eyes fell on the door beside the door he had come through. The root cellar! That had to be the root cellar. After he had dug the tunnel the man had altered it and instead of coming up the tunnel to the root cellar, he had come up the tunnel to the back door. Why had he changed that? Fred reached for the door and froze.

How many times had he pictured his father doing this exact samething? Only when he pictured his father he also pictured his mother. His dear, dead mother being placed in the wall of the root cellar by his father. How many times had he gone to the root cellar to get beets, or potatoes, or onions. How many times when the tornado sirens were screaming had he and his father gone to the root cellar knowing that was the one place the tornado could not touch. And not once had he even thought about what might be in the wall of the root cellar.

Never once had he dreamt that his dear sainted mother was sleeping her death sleep just a few feet from him and his father. His father knew. He knew all along and never said a word. When Fred had wished his mother would come back to them and voiced that desire to his father, his father had only said, “Quit dreaming, Freddie, if she was coming back she never would have left.”

Fred often wondered what had happened the night she died. Or was it day? He never even  remembered them ever fighting. Just mom looking sad and dad reading the paper. They never talked. How could his father have ever worked up enough emotion to kill his mother? His father and mother were both unemotional people. He stared at the door.  He was going to have to open it and see what was behind it. Slowly he grasped the knob and turned it. Well, not turning. Locked. Locked! That meant the woman, probably Meg Parker was behind that door and she was locked in there. If she was locked in there she was not a willing participant that was clear. He scoured the door frame for a key. None. The man must have the key.

Think! Think! He remembered back to when he dug the tunnel. At that time it had been through the root cellar. Now it was not. He jerked the tunnel door open, took a few steps and reached his hand out and felt the wall. A little further down.  More. There! The dirt was soft. The man had removed the dirt over there, placing it over here. By doing that he had altered the location of the tunnel. Not much, but enough so the root cellar could now be used as a prison for someone. Or a place to bury her. Maybe she was dead. With a furor he never knew he had Fred unsnapped the folding shovel that hung from his waist and began to dig frantically in the soft dirt. Very soon he had a hole through and could see inside the root cellar. All he could see was another wall, but he would be in the room very soon. And like a man fighting for his very life, he continued to throw dirt over his shoulder until at last the hole was big enough for him to slide through.

As he stood up and looked around he saw her clearly. Meg Parker lay on a small cot with a soft cloth on her shoulder. Chloroform! He moved the cloth, but Meg did not stir. Fred was unsure of anything at that moment. As he gazed down at the sleeping woman something stirred in his soul. Something very far back in the deep recesses of his mind fluttered and made him feel wanted. Something made him feel warm. He touched her cheek tentatively, then smiled. Funny, he did not remember smiling in a very long time, but now it felt rather natural. He knew what he had to do and as he reached for
the woman he felt like he had just come home from a very long and bitter war.

Meg Parker. Darling.

Installment #36 Fred

Installment #36

 Fred

Fred shouldered his gun and started across the road following the small deer.. He had come across it behind his barn just as the sun was trying to pull itself up out of the ground.  It was just the size he liked, not too big, but out of its fawn spots. The shot had gone just a hair to one side and not brought it down with a clean shot that he liked. It bolted and ran across the road heading west. Fred was in no hurry because the deer would not go far and his house was just up ahead.

As he started towards Storm Lake Road he heard a vehicle and habit made him conceal himself. He was surprised to see the black Jeep. Today was Sunday and usually when the man was at home he arrived on Friday. Oh, there was someone with him. That would explain him being here now.  He apparently had been partying and now they were just getting home. Fred caught a brief glimpse of the woman as the jeep skidded, slowed and righted itself. That guy must be drunk to drive like that.

 Hey! That looked a lot like Meg Parker. No way. What would she be doing with that weirdo? Nothing, that was what, absolutely nothing. He shook his head and continued following the blood droplets through the forest. The little deer was now headed just slightly down hill. Oh crap! At this trajectory it would end up right at the scar faced guy’s cabin. Well, too bad because he was not going to lose this meat. This was his and nobody was going to take it away. He had spent the last few weeks with only minimal amounts of squirrel and dove meat and this was going to be his feast. The small deer lay at the base of the tree where the telescope was stored. Oh, well.

He quickly took a length of rope from his belt and lashed the deer’s back feet together with one end. Then he took a longer length from his bag on his side and tossed one end of it over a tree branch on another tree. He did not want to leave signs here where the man could find them. Not that it mattered, but why rock the boat? He then returned and dragged the deer to the rope that dangled from the branch. He tied the rope to the trussed deer and began to raise the deer. As soon as it’s head was waist high he secured the rope, took out a very sharp hunting knife and slit the deer’s throat. He did not like to watch this part so he walked away a few yards and looked up the hill at the cabin.

What was that guy doing? He was carrying logs to the rear of the Jeep and now he was putting them in the back. Did he have a fireplace at his place in town? And he could not tell from here, but the woman seemed to be sleeping very soundly. The man slammed the door on the back of the Jeep and went around to the passenger door.  He watched as the man lifted her out and carried her inside. Drunk, no doubt, but she sure looked like Meg Parker from here. But that made no sense. When the door closed behind the man, Fred turned back to the deer. He slit it from sternum to anus and spilled the insides out on the ground for the forest critters. He took an old sheet from his bag and wrapped the deer securely. Now he could carry it back to his barn and finish butchering it. This would be very good venison. But he must do something first.

 He quickly climbed the tree and pulled the telescope into position. He zeroed in on the farm below. It was quiet. Too quiet. The dogs were in their yard looking very forlorn. Why had Meg left them outside? How long had they been there? They were always with her, unless she was not there. He looked back at the cabin behind him and saw the man hurrying to his Jeep. He watched as he jumped quickly inside and drove away. Why would a man with a woman inside leave like that? Fred did not know. What Fred did know was that the tunnel that led to the house was right over there. And he also knew if the woman inside the cabin was Meg Parker , she was in trouble. He also knew that the very thought of entering that tunnel scared the bejesus out of him.

That tunnel would be just like the root cellar where his mother had spent so many years entombed by a man he called his father. The man was gone. He could walk right across the yard and see what was going on inside. But how would he get in the house? Right back to the first solution. The tunnel led to the house and into the kitchen. He was going to have to go through the tunnel. And he was going to have to do it very soon. The man would be back, of that he was sure. With a sad glance at his beautiful deer, and another down the mountain where he saw the Jeep now passing the Parker farm, he climbed down the tree and headed for the entrance to the tunnel. His lips moved in silent prayer as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Installment #27

Installment #27

Him

Marshall Purcell doused his lights and pulled to the side
of the road. He watched as Meg drove into the garage and the
door closed behind her. First the kitchen light came on. She
would be greeting the dogs if the idiot that took care of the place
had not locked them in their crates. Then he saw the light at the
top of the stairs and he watched as the kitchen light went dark.

Ah, if he were there now she would be coming down the
hallway to him. He would be laying on the bed reading.

NO!  He would be IN the bed reading. He would be naked under the
lavender sheets. NO! That was not right! He would be setting in
the overstuffed chair, fully dressed. He would be reading
Tolstoy or something just as boring. She would come in and kiss
him lightly on top of the head and then touch him lightly on the
shoulder. And he would grab her and pull her to him!

NO! My God what was he thinking! If he were to kiss
her she would no doubt part her lips slightly and he might touch
the tip of her tongue with his. NO! This was wrong! This
whole thing was getting out of control! He hated sex! He
groaned as he felt the hardness pushing against the crotch of his
suit pants. If that thing was going to keep acting like this he
would cut it off! “If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out.“
Well that was already plucked out and by God, no less.

He started the Jeep and pulled onto the road as he began to sob.

Installment #28

Installement #28

Fred

Her farm was a small one and not really a farm at all. Just a
house, chicken house and that was it. The garage was attached
to the house.

Meg Parker was a fine figure of a woman, he had to give
her that. She pretty much kept to herself and not much traffic
that he had ever seen. Sure thing no men running in and out.
Dogs pretty well had the run of the place now that he had
installed the doggie door. Hadn’t needed the cage on the
outside. Little bitty doggie door and you’d have to be a damn
string bean to get through it and into the house what with the
dog leg he had installed inside. Guy could get trapped and
starve to death in a deal like that.

As Fred neared the edge of the clearing he saw car lights
coming up the road. And back further a second car. Lot of
traffic for this area and this time of night. The first car slowed
and turned into the Parker place. Hmmm. Meg must be home
from wherever she had gone. Was that other car going to her
place? Meg drove into the garage and lowered the door. The
second car drove slowly past her drive and then its lights went
out and he watched as it parked on the side of the road. What
was that all about? Was Meg in danger? He touched his 44
Magnum, reassuring himself that it was there. And the machete.
He watched as the light came on in the kitchen. Then he
watched as the light went on upstairs and the kitchen light went
out. And he watched the car. Well not a car, some kind of big
vehicle. Hey wait! That vehicle looked familiar. He crept
closer. It was a Black Jeep. Like that fella over west of him.
The guy who had him dig that long tunnel into the forest. Jeez
that had been a job and a half. Damn near got the best of him
all those rocks and roots.

Fred waited, wondering what the guy was doing. Spying
on Meg Parker? What could he see? Nothing. Needed to take a
leak? Gonna have to get out of the car to do that! Nothing was
happening. Nothing. Whoops! The car started suddenly and Fred
jumped guiltily. At least he was behind it so he probably had
gone undetected. Then the Jeep pulled onto Bonner Road and the
lights came on along with the blinker turning left onto Storm
Lake Road. It was that crazy bastard! This was very strange, but
along with the feeling of bewilderment came a growing sense of
dread. Something was not right here and he did not like it. He
had dealt with this character and not been comfortable at all when
he did. And the tunnel. What was that all about? He had
wondered, but only a little. Now it took on new meaning. Why
was the guy parked there watching Meg’s house? Better be on
our toes, Freddy boy.

And he turned back and headed North to his little cabin in
the big woods.

Installment #26

Installment #26

Meg

Meg stepped out of the little silver Ford and took the
parking stub from the valet. She smiled as she walked into
the lobby of the Sheraton and spotted the entrance to the
restaurant. She smiled at the maitre de and told him she was
meeting some one. “Is he here yet? His name is Eldon.”

“No one by that name has checked in yet. Perhaps
madam would like to wait at the bar and I will let you know
when he arrives?”
 Meg agreed and soon found herself seated
at the bar. She checked her watch and saw that it was already
12:20. Eldon had said noon. He was already 20 minutes late.
Well maybe he had gotten tied up. Things do have a way of
doing that. She ordered a glass of white wine and began her
favorite pastime of people watching. By one o’clock she was
fidgeting and by 2:00 she was fuming. The clientele in the
lounge had turned over at least once. The waiter was
beginning to look askance at her. She knew how many
glasses of wine she had sipped and that she really needed to
get something in her stomach before she started the long drive
home. She caught the waiter’s eye.

“ I guess my friend is tied up. Might I have a small
table, preferably by a window? I really should eat something
before I drive my car.” She smiled at the sad young man.

“Certainly, ma’am. I have just the table for you. Great
view of the garden and if you stretch your neck to the right you
can see the fountain.”

“Then I shall ‘stretch my neck’!” She laughed as she rose
to follow him to the table. Once more she was seated, but this
time with a glass of Raspberry Iced Tea instead of wine and a
blackened tilapia served on wild rice with pinon and basil,
recommended by Jerome, the waiter who reminded her very
much of her dear Kevin. She had craned her neck and managed
to see the fountain, which was indeed a work of art. But then so
were the gardens.

She would reserve judgment on Eldon aka “redranger”
until she heard from him. He might have a very good excuse.
Or he might be what the Internet warned us all about, a faceless
little creep hiding behind the boiler in a prison somewhere
figuring out a way to get to Meg Parker. She made a silent vow
to herself to find out more about this man that she had become so
attached to through her computer. But right now she just wanted
to go home, back to her part of the mountain where she felt safe
and not so vulnerable as here in the middle of Denver, Colorado,
waiting for a man that she knew was not coming.

She put her money with the bill and closed the cover,
leaving a very generous tip for Jerome. She crossed the lobby
and handed her ticket stub to the valet and waited. When the
little silver car arrived, she tipped the valet and climbed inside.
She adjusted the seat, checked the mirror and pulled into traffic.
She did not notice the black Jeep pull onto the street at the same
time. Nor did she notice the black Jeep when she took the ramp
to I 25 South. Nor as she turned on the Johnny Mathis CD, one
of her deviations from Country Western.

She began to sing along with him “There is someone,
watching your footsteps , Turn around, look at me! There is
someone waiting to hold you, Turn around, look at me. For I
have waited, and I‘ll wait forever, for you to come to me.
Turn around, look at me!”

And she was completely oblivious when she turned into
her yard and pulled into her garage.

But He was not.

Installment #20

Installment #20

Kevin and Greg

Kevin merged into the north bound lane of Interstate 25 and quickly set the cruise control on 75 mph. They would catch I 80 West in Cheyenne. It might be a bit out of the way mileage wise, but it would cut almost two hours off the trip.

 “OK, Greg. What is eating you? You been all tied up since yesterday. You might just as well spit it out!”

“Ok, Kevin. Are you buying that crock about your mom building a fortress of her house just cause she is getting old? She is not that old and I am pretty sure she can take care of herself. Something is going on there that she isn’t telling you, and I don’t like it.” He waited for a response and when none came he forged on, “ Why didn’t we walk up the mountain? There are trails up there. I seen them, but she was like a little frightened rabbit when I suggested that. Did you notice?”  He stopped and this time waited for an answer.

“Well, yeah. We used to hike up there a lot. Maybe there are more houses up there now and it is private property. Or it is rattlesnake season when they shed their skin and they are blind and can’t get out of our way. That’s how people get bit by those Timber Rattlers.” He stopped and looked at Greg. He needed more. He sounded like a little kid. “All right! All right! I don’t know what is going on and I am sure there is more than she is telling us, but what can I do? They outlawed the tying up and grilling of mothers a very long time ago. I am sure she will be all right and she will do what needs to be done and if something or someone is threatening her, she will handle it. She is a big girl.”

Greg sighed. “Well, I really like your mom and I hope you are right. I wish she had some closer neighbors. Do you know any of them? Can they check on her?”

"Greg.  Greg.  People move to the mountains to be alone. I know the handyman she uses a little. We always called him ‘that silly old Fred’. He has lived upon  the mountain for years. I think he still has the same old pickup that he had when I was living at home, but maybe not. We always thought he was married and his wife left him and his son moved away, but seems like that was just a rumor. Never been married. Never had a kid. Guess the only rumor that held any water was that his dad had killed his mother and hid her body in the root cellar. I think he is scared of root cellars. Oh, yeah and women. Seems he was an only child. But I don’t know if he even has a phone. Sure he doesn’t do the Internet!”

They fell into a restless silence as they thought about Meg and the miles whipped past. They stopped in Cheyenne for a rest stop before getting on I 80. They bought a cappuccino and a bag of Fritos. When they returned to the car, Greg took the wheel. They enjoyed the scenery and sipped the hot cappuccinos. Meg was never very far from their minds, but they could not think of a way to protect her when they had no idea what to protect her from.

Chapter One...Loose Ends

Chapter One...Loose Ends

INSTALLMENT #1
*Meg
Meg Parker stood very still in the gathering dusk as she
watched the sun slowly slip below the western rim of the
Rocky Mountains. This little farm in the foothills had been very
good to her. True it was lonely, but not really. Since Tommy
had been killed in the avalanche three years ago, she had made
new friends and kept the old ones. The acre here in "next to
paradise" gave her security and enough to support her volunteer
causes. What had begun as a hobby of a few chickens for eggs
had grown into a chicken farm that put money in her pocket.
Lot of dirty work, but she liked work.
Hard work and perseverance by both her and Tommy
had actually been a blessing in disguise. Tommy had been an
over the road trucker all of his life. When they had met in a
truck stop in Montana back in 1990 it was the end of the road
for both of them. Kevin was just 14 and almost past the need for
a daddy, but he and Tommy had hit it off as buddies. Since
Kevin had never known his father it seemed an ideal
arrangement.
Meg sighed as she remembered the man she knew only
as John Horner. She had been working in a cafe in Selda,
Kansas at the time. Selda was her home and the only one she
knew until John came along. She had graduated and gone to
work at the Steak Shop instead of going to college as her
parents had hoped. Waiting tables paid good in tips and while
there were no benefits, there was a lot to be said for the social
contacts and meals were free. She never tired of the banter with
the customers and sometimes even accepted a date with one of
the fellows. She had just celebrated her 19th birthday when
John Horner walked into her life and turned it completely
upside down.
Meg knew when the door opened and the tall stranger
walked in that he was different from the local boys. And she
was right! He was over 6 foot tall and walked with an air
about him that made everyone's eyes follow him across the
room and to the counter. He knew who he was and he knew
what he wanted. Tonight he wanted food. As Meg handed
him the menu their fingers touched briefly and their eyes
met. As she stared into his brown eyes she felt a jolt to the
bottom of her soul. This was fate as surely as fate had ever
walked, and it had just walked into her life.
The next two days were spent in an agitated state as she
waited for him to enter the Steak Shop again. And then, there
he was. He gave her a fleeting smile as he settled at the
counter. But tonight she had the dining room and Greta had the
counter. Greta was married with kids at home and the stranger
held no interest for her, but Meg could not help but admire him
as he chatted with a couple at the counter and with the cook
who was running the Charcoal that night. After an agonizing
period of time he paid his bill and left without a backward
glance. Meg was crushed. Then Greta handed her a napkin.
"Your sweetie pie left you this. Quite taken with you, I
think. Asked a million questions, but you better watch him.
Guys like that leave girls like us crying in the dust." Then she
laughed and began wiping the counter.
Meg stared at the note in her hand. "Tomorrow-7:30.
Ted's Roadhouse. Drinks and a dance." There was nowhere to
check yes or no. No telephone to call and say "Sorry, can't make
it." Presumptuous bastard! Then she smiled softly to herself. No
reason not to go. She was off the next two nights and this man
gave her an itch she could not scratch. She would go, just out of
idle curiosity was all. Just find out who this guy was.
And find out she did! John was a pipe fitter working on
the construction at the new hospital on the east side of town. He
was from Nebraska; twenty-six years old and still lived at home
with mom and dad on the farm. He had a wonderful sense of
humor and as he guided her to the dance floor and took her in his
arms she knew that life as she knew it was over. And the last
thing that went through her mind as she drifted off to sleep in his
bed at the Motel 6 that night was an old adage she had heard
years ago…”Eyes of blue; a love that’s true. Eyes of brown will
let you down.” But tonight was not a night for adages, it was a
night for new beginnings.
Meg began to dread the day the hospital would be done
as she knew John would leave; probably. Days were spent in
work and nights were spent in his arms. They laughed, they
loved and talked of future plans. It seemed they lived in an
idyllic world and were not touched by the mundane. He talked
little about his life in Nebraska and not at all about his plans
when the job here was done.
Two months and she was late on her period. She
wondered briefly what John would say, but instinctively knew he
would be happy. They could start their lives together. As she
walked across the hotel lobby to pick up the room key a
headline caught her eye. She stopped to study the front page.
HOSPITAL NEARS COMPLETION.
Well, there it was. Things were nearing completion and
her and John could make some decisions. She reached the desk
and smiled at the clerk. Nebraska might be a welcome change
from the humidity of Kansas.
“Room 609, please.”
The clerk looked at her kn er knowingly. “Sorry, Meg, he
checked out this morning. He is gone.”
“No! He is not.”
“Here. See for yourself.” The clerk smirked as he handed
her the key.
Meg took the key which suddenly felt very big and very
cold and started the ascent in the elevator. At room 609 she
placed the key in the lock and turned it to the right. The door
swung open into a big, cold, empty room. It smelled of Lysol
and Tropical Flowers, but not of John Horner. There was
nothing personal anywhere. No sign that John had ever been
there. No warmth or laughter or anything that would show how
much happiness she had known.
On feet of lead she approached the desk for the second
time and handed the key to the clerk, Brian, she recalled
suddenly.
“When did he check out?”
“Right after you left this morning. Hell bent on putting
this town behind him, it seemed.”
“Did he leave a forwarding address?” She suddenly
remembered all the things they had not discussed. “Where do
you send the final bill?”
“Paid cash, Meg. His business here is done.” Brian
smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I
know you really had the hots for him, but maybe now somebody
else will have a chance.” He winked playfully and Meg suddenly
felt a sob welling up in her throat and
turned and ran from the Motel 6 and into the bright sun outside.
Meg wiped a tear from her eye as she noticed it was
dark now and the sun was only a bit or rose color on the far
horizon. She had hoped against hope that John would come
back, but he hadn’t. When she had inquired at the construction
company about him, they had never heard of John Horner. Was
she insane? Maybe, but the child growing inside of her was not
a figment of her imagination. So she had taken her meager
saving and moved to Montana to at least spare her mom and
dad the humiliation of her transgressions. Kevin Lee Jackson
was born in the county hospital and his bill was paid by the
state of Montana. A welfare baby. But her baby.
And it was all water under the bridge because now she
was a widow in Colorado and Kevin was a computer
programmer and system analyst in San Francisco. And he was
gay and he was HIV positive. He had his life and she had hers.
She had Tommy’s ashes on the nightstand by her bed and a very
long road to travel before she could ever reach the prize
whatever it might be.
As Meg turned toward the house she once more heard a
country western song play through her mind, “Brown Eyed
Handsome Man“ She rarely thought of John Horner and the
eyes of brown that let her down and she would not think of him
tonight. Tonight she would remember her Tommy. Tommy, 5’9”
and eyes of sky blue. Tommy with his laughter and honesty and
kindness and love that had brought her from the footloose girl in
Montana to the settled, secure, kind, caring, compassionate,
giving woman in Colorado; the woman who faced the West and
had no desire to cross the mountain.