It's been a long time since I've written something of this nature. Enjoy...
As I sit here in the laundromat, I'm left to contemplate an idea that wedged itself in my brain earlier today while I was cutting my hair. The idea of being "whole". People discuss it frequently. They don't feel complete. They feel someone else completes them. My conclusion about the matter is fairly simple, but it seems to be one that the majority of people miss. There is no wholeness within ourselves. It's against the nature of humanity. Yes solitude and singularity can be a great thing and can be fulfilling for many but truly, at their deepest level those individuals are at peace, are happy because of someone else, or something else in their lives. I alone can attest to this. At the end of the day, we are just a piece. We are only one small component in what creates a larger whole. Not all the pieces are equal in size and most people will admit to making their life work without having all the pieces in front if them. Most people don't know how to put them all together either. It's more of an art than a science. You can't look at the picture on the box for help with this puzzle. You have to to about it blindly. There's no way around it. Sometimes you have to force a piece into it's place; and sometimes they fall into place without any strategy or planning on your own accord.
In one way or another, everyone's puzzle links to each others. There is no avoiding it. As it's been said, "no man is an island."
As life enraptures you, don't forget that it's a reliance and acceptance of the other pieces that will ultimately leave you feeling whole, and you, you are a piece that will do the same for someone else. Here's to figuring out how to fit all the pieces together. Salud!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Storm (Ch 1)
Rain pelted the glass. The drops stung the panes and raced down to the sill. The porch was no protection. Puddles pooled at the curb's edge. Mud swirled into the pure liquid, contaminating it. Other than the final few that clung to the branches overhead, leaves clogged the drain as the muddy water tried to escape to the aquifers beneath the pavement. The wind whipped heaven's tears down the street. He sat by the window, safe and dry. He tried to see through the gray. He sat patiently and waited. Soon his love would return. It was that time. He would appear around the corner. He would cross the street and come down the block. He would catch that first glimpse and his heart would skip a beat. It happened every day. He couldn't avoid it. He couldn't, no matter how much he tried to prepare himself for it. He loved him. When he climbed the stairs to the front door, his heart would race. He'd let him in, kiss him. That was about as much as he could handle. He truly loved him. He was his everything.
He tried to hurry, but he didn't make it. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't carry his fast enough. He saw the flashing orange hand. His umbrella was stowed securely beneath the driver's seat of his car. It offered him no protection now. He stepped into the crosswalk. He held his bag overhead. It was a futile effort, but he continued nonetheless. There was not a moment's notice. There was no avoiding it.
From across the street, he watched. Every movement crawled by as a sloth going uphill. He wanted to do something, he wanted to warn him. But there was no stopping it. There was no way to save him. He lunged from his spot by the window, tripped over the leg of the coffee table and limped to the front door. He swung it open and yelled a warning to him. The sound of the rain colliding with metal, glass, and pavement drowned out his call. He didn't even look up. He never turned to the side. He never altered his course. There were no brakes. The driver didn't slow. The driver didn't stop. He fell to his knees as he rolled up the hood of the grey sedan. He screamed and looked to the sky. There was no reply to his why. He heard the impact. He felt the pain. He was helpless as his lifeless form met the pavement. The sedan disappeared into the storm. He was shattered. She was broken.
He drug himself to the edge of the porch. The sky flashed white light in agitation. Rain soaked his clothes. His t-shirt clung to his skin. His face was stained with emotion. The rain mixed with his salty tears and ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He ran his hands over his head as the collecting rain sprayed up and away. His mouth still hung open in agony. Thunder rolled through the clouds and spit rain out in a greater fury.
He grabbed the banister and used it to slowly pull himself to his feet. His love lay in the street. Cars came to a stop and formed lines away from her body in four directions. He clumsily made his way down the front steps and towards her. Bystanders on the street stood still without movement. They stared, umbrellas, briefcases, and newspapers overhead, anything to shield them from the downpour.
The lights changed from green to yellow to red and back to green again, but there no vehicle moved. Brake lights illuminated the block. He traipsed to her side and crumbled once more. Blood stained her jacket and shirt. The gash in her forehead was washed by the rain. The red discharge diluted and faded away in puddles and runoff. He tried to pull her to him. He tugged at her lifeless body, falling back to the ground from his knees. Her legs lay stiff, but he threw himself around her torso, embracing her tightly. Pedestrians, and motorists who had exited their cars, looked on unable to see his tears, but more than able to feel his grief.
The increasing lines of traffic simulated arrows pointing their attention toward the center of the intersection. He lay on the pavement with his arms wrapped around her. He ignored all that surrounded him. He saw only her. He felt only her. He had loved only her.
Sirens screamed toward them. It was too late for that. Much too late for that. Faces, smiles flashed through his mind. He held her tighter, kissed her. He held his lips against hers. He didn't want to pull away. His body trembled. The cold November rain was unmatched by the frigid feeling of loss and solitude that exuded from within. His mouth traced the bone of her left cheek and hovered in the wispy hair around her ear. He whispered softly to her in a delayed and broken fashion.
"My love...my love. Is this how it ends? I...I had thought...this journey had just begun."
His nose nuzzled beneath the lobe of her ear.
"You...you...I can't...this...this isn't part of our plan. I...I'll never let you go. Never...we can't...we can't be apart. You will always...always be mine...always be here...always be here."
His right hand covered his heart as he lowered her back to the ground. He lay next to her. His arm across her body, his face still buried in the nape of her neck.
"Sir. Sir. Step back please."
He felt the tug on his arm. The medics had arrived. They rolled him to the side.
"Sir please step back."
He tried to stand but easily gave up. He crawled to the side, giving them room to work. He knew it was in vain, but he didn't interfere. He tried to compose himself but he only fell more and more apart. He sat, huddled on his knees with his face in his hands as if they would hold him together. His resolve was dissolved by the rain. It stung his flesh as lightning flashed once again. He looked up to the sky and let the rains washed across his face. He stared upwards terrified of what the clouds above him held.
"Go on. Go on. Rain. Rain on me. Hail. Bring the winds. Light up the sky."
Thunder interrupted him as it clapped through the city, rattling windows, sending children to hide, and causing dogs to bark. It was a low and growling rumble. It did not break his gaze. The angry sky looked back at him. It had offered its reply. There was no movement in that city block. Only the rain fell. Only the wind blew. All else stood still.
He tried to hurry, but he didn't make it. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't carry his fast enough. He saw the flashing orange hand. His umbrella was stowed securely beneath the driver's seat of his car. It offered him no protection now. He stepped into the crosswalk. He held his bag overhead. It was a futile effort, but he continued nonetheless. There was not a moment's notice. There was no avoiding it.
From across the street, he watched. Every movement crawled by as a sloth going uphill. He wanted to do something, he wanted to warn him. But there was no stopping it. There was no way to save him. He lunged from his spot by the window, tripped over the leg of the coffee table and limped to the front door. He swung it open and yelled a warning to him. The sound of the rain colliding with metal, glass, and pavement drowned out his call. He didn't even look up. He never turned to the side. He never altered his course. There were no brakes. The driver didn't slow. The driver didn't stop. He fell to his knees as he rolled up the hood of the grey sedan. He screamed and looked to the sky. There was no reply to his why. He heard the impact. He felt the pain. He was helpless as his lifeless form met the pavement. The sedan disappeared into the storm. He was shattered. She was broken.
He drug himself to the edge of the porch. The sky flashed white light in agitation. Rain soaked his clothes. His t-shirt clung to his skin. His face was stained with emotion. The rain mixed with his salty tears and ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He ran his hands over his head as the collecting rain sprayed up and away. His mouth still hung open in agony. Thunder rolled through the clouds and spit rain out in a greater fury.
He grabbed the banister and used it to slowly pull himself to his feet. His love lay in the street. Cars came to a stop and formed lines away from her body in four directions. He clumsily made his way down the front steps and towards her. Bystanders on the street stood still without movement. They stared, umbrellas, briefcases, and newspapers overhead, anything to shield them from the downpour.
The lights changed from green to yellow to red and back to green again, but there no vehicle moved. Brake lights illuminated the block. He traipsed to her side and crumbled once more. Blood stained her jacket and shirt. The gash in her forehead was washed by the rain. The red discharge diluted and faded away in puddles and runoff. He tried to pull her to him. He tugged at her lifeless body, falling back to the ground from his knees. Her legs lay stiff, but he threw himself around her torso, embracing her tightly. Pedestrians, and motorists who had exited their cars, looked on unable to see his tears, but more than able to feel his grief.
The increasing lines of traffic simulated arrows pointing their attention toward the center of the intersection. He lay on the pavement with his arms wrapped around her. He ignored all that surrounded him. He saw only her. He felt only her. He had loved only her.
Sirens screamed toward them. It was too late for that. Much too late for that. Faces, smiles flashed through his mind. He held her tighter, kissed her. He held his lips against hers. He didn't want to pull away. His body trembled. The cold November rain was unmatched by the frigid feeling of loss and solitude that exuded from within. His mouth traced the bone of her left cheek and hovered in the wispy hair around her ear. He whispered softly to her in a delayed and broken fashion.
"My love...my love. Is this how it ends? I...I had thought...this journey had just begun."
His nose nuzzled beneath the lobe of her ear.
"You...you...I can't...this...this isn't part of our plan. I...I'll never let you go. Never...we can't...we can't be apart. You will always...always be mine...always be here...always be here."
His right hand covered his heart as he lowered her back to the ground. He lay next to her. His arm across her body, his face still buried in the nape of her neck.
"Sir. Sir. Step back please."
He felt the tug on his arm. The medics had arrived. They rolled him to the side.
"Sir please step back."
He tried to stand but easily gave up. He crawled to the side, giving them room to work. He knew it was in vain, but he didn't interfere. He tried to compose himself but he only fell more and more apart. He sat, huddled on his knees with his face in his hands as if they would hold him together. His resolve was dissolved by the rain. It stung his flesh as lightning flashed once again. He looked up to the sky and let the rains washed across his face. He stared upwards terrified of what the clouds above him held.
"Go on. Go on. Rain. Rain on me. Hail. Bring the winds. Light up the sky."
Thunder interrupted him as it clapped through the city, rattling windows, sending children to hide, and causing dogs to bark. It was a low and growling rumble. It did not break his gaze. The angry sky looked back at him. It had offered its reply. There was no movement in that city block. Only the rain fell. Only the wind blew. All else stood still.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Dakota (Ch 39)
We met the ambulance as it pulled into the lane. I climbed into the back carrying baby Jason and the journey to County began. Kahle stayed behind to work the crime scene. On our walk through the woods I had filled him in all the details I knew. He wanted to cross every T and dot every I in the investigation. This was his first case as sheriff.
Baby Jason was very tiny, and very early. I worried about the challenges he would face in the coming weeks and in the long term. I knew it was going to be a long road. The EMT assured me that his lungs were surprisingly strong. That was the biggest concern. He had been exposed to the elements for too long for a preemie.
The ride was filled with worries. I was going to have to raise this baby on my own. With each mile, my tension grew. I thought about Rebekah, she was gone forever. She would never see her son. She would never know that through it all, no matter what, I still loved her.
The ambulance pulled into the emergency bay and the EMT carried baby Jason through the sliding doors. I followed a half step behind. My body was exhausted. I had forgotten about my wrist. It didn't matter now. My focus was on my son. He was my family. That tiny little baby was all the family I had. I didn't care about anything else.
We didn't stop at the emergency room. We turned to the left and pushed our way through the double doors that led to the rest of the hospital. We took the elevator to the fourth floor. The EMT pushed stopped outside of two red doors. He pushed the yellow call button. A scratchy voice responded. He spoke in response.
"I've got the Samuels' baby."
The yellow button flashed and a buzz resounded through the hallway. He pushed the door open and we entered the secured area. It was the ICU. County Medical wasn't big enough to have a designated Neonatal ICU, but there wasn't time to drive, or even fly Jason to a better hospital. His care needed to start now. Nurses swarmed around us and whisked Jason off to a room. They cleaned him and inspected him. Nothing went unnoticed. I sat in the chair and watched as they worked. Methodical and yet with speed. Finally they put him in a small clear plastic bassinet. They lowered the top in place, sealing him off from the outside world and the contaminants that threatened him. Tiny patches covered his body, monitoring various functions. Devices set up next to his bed buzzed and beeped and dripped life into my son.
I left my place in the chair and stood at his side. I stared down at him. I never thought a ray of hope and a sliver of joy would result from this disaster, but there he was. I reached my hand down and slid it into the glove that allowed me to touch my son. I brushed my index finger over his chest. He moved slightly. I smile broke the stiffness of my face.
"Hi buddy! I'm your daddy. Yeah, you're going to get big and strong and then you're going to come home with me."
I thought I saw him smile. But I'm sure it was my imagination. I pulled my hand from the glove and stepped to the nurses station. I had a few questions. I wanted to know how long my son would be here. I wanted to know if he was OK.
The nurse took me back to his side, pulled up a chair, and sat me down.
"Mr. Samuels, Jason, that's the name you settled on, right?"
"Yes. Jason Lyle Samuels."
"Very well. They'll come up to fill out the official birth certificate in a little while. But, your son, Jason, he's going to be fine. It's going to take some time though. He's a strong little guy. His lungs are much stronger than we would expect this early. We're helping him breathe a bit, because we don't want those lungs to get fatigued and cause him other problems. I can't say there is any major concern right now. We just need to get some food in him and get some weight on him so you can take him home. I'm not a doctor, and with preemies things can change quickly, so we want to keep an eye on him for a while. But I'd say a week, two tops, and you're little guy will be home in your arms."
I didn't have words to respond. I had braced my self for bad news. I was worried. This was my son. My parental instincts were rushing at me full steam.
"Do you have any other questions I can answer?"
"No. I just wanted to know he was OK."
She smiled warmly and stood from her seat.
"This one's a fighter Mr. Samuels. Are you sure you're alright? Do you need us to bring you anything?"
"No. I've got everything I need right here."
I stood as a sign of courtesy.
"Well then, get some rest. I'll be in to check on him periodically."
She reached out her arm to shake my hand. Without a second thought, I responded in kind. She grasped my hand and firmly shook. The pain paralyzed me. I fell back into the chair. Her face was painted with confusion and concern.
"Mr. Samuels. Are you alright? What is it?"
"My wrist. Oh, God, my wrist."
She waved her hand for another nurse.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Pull my chart. My wrist was shattered a few months ago. They repaired it with pins and screws. I fell on it today. I felt things shift."
"We need to get you downstairs right away. You need an X-ray. And probably another surgery to fix it."
The two nurses crowded over me, trying to help me to my feet.
"I know. I know."
I spoke quietly, then much louder. I motioned with my arms for space. They took a step back.
"Just give me a moment. I need a minute."
"Yessir."
"Of course."
They took another step back as I stood up again. I stepped to my son's side and watched his chest rise and fall. I watched as he slept and breathed in the air of this world.
"Welcome to Dakota, buddy. I'll be back. Don't you go anywhere."
I winked. I knew he couldn't see me.
"I love you."
I turned back to the nurses, who both appeared as if they were about to cry.
"Let's go.
I ushered them both out.
The nurse who had answered my questions stayed behind while the other took me downstairs to be treated. They didn't make me wait at the emergency room. I went straight to X-ray.
After the X-ray tech took the images, I sat in the orange plastic chair outside the room and waited for the doctor. The tech told me it was the same doctor that had performed my initial surgery, but I was unconscious when they brought me in, so to me it didn't make a difference.
When the doctor finally came she didn't say much. She just shook my hand, my left hand, and escorted me to the operating room. Her team was already assembled. She had me lay on the table, they administered anesthesia, and went to work.
/ / /
I don't know how long the surgery lasted, or how long I was out, but when I awoke, a familiar face was at my side. Karen smiled at me, but immediately began on the defensive.
"I know you don't want me here. I know. But I saw your name on the board at the nurse's station and I couldn't just not come in and see you. I'm sorry."
I spoke slowly and carefully weighed my words.
"It's alright. It's just been a very long day."
"So how'd you mess up the wrist again?"
I was still groggy. My mouth was cottony. My eyes were heavy.
"Like I said, it's been a very long day. There's an unbelievable story to tell. But now is not the time."
"I'm sorry. Maybe I should go."
"No."
I cut her off. I didn't want to be alone. Not now.
"Can you just sit with me?"
She slid her chair forward. She still smiled. She reached her hand up and wrapped it around mine.
"Sure. I'll sit with you as long as you'd like."
I didn't respond. I turned my head to face her. I looked into her eyes. Blink. She knew that the past was forgiven. She squeezed my hand. I smiled in reply and let my eyes drift closed once more.
/ / /
That spring had a certain calmness to it. After the bodies were buried in the ground, I said my final goodbyes to Janie and Rebekah. Kahle was officially sworn in as the new Sheriff for Wessington and the surrounding county. Karen made regular visits to check on me, but her stops weren't all work related. Jason came home from the hospital after nine days in the ICU. Doctors said they never saw a preemie make such a rapid recovery. I settled in to the life of being a father.
I left Chicago behind me. I let go of those days when I thought I couldn't survive outside the city. The country air rejuvenated me. I felt more alive than before. My focus turned from editing to writing. I had spent my life reading others people's work. For the first time, I allowed myself to explore my own creativity, professionally. Days passed, they turned into weeks and months.
I sat in the office, huddled beneath the stairs, as I tapped away at the keys on the keyboard. Jason slept soundly in the nursery which had been his uncle's room. It had been almost a year since I returned to Dakota. Life was different now. I scrolled back to the top of the page. I clicked 'Save'. And waited as the pages slowly fed their way through the printer. I glanced over at the baby monitor before pulling the sheets from the tray. I fingered them gently, careful not to smudge the fresh ink. I turned them over and lay them face down on the larger stack that set to the left of the computer. I took a deep breath and lifted the thick stack. I flipped it over and stared at it. It intimidated me. I rubbed my fingers over the title. The corners of my eyes were moist. I half smiled before folding the screen down on the laptop. I rubbed my fingers across the title once more. Coming Home: A True Story of Love and Loss.
I stood, and walked to the door. I switched off the light and pulled the door shut behind me. I leaned against it for a moment. My mind wandered. I was brought back by the sound of Jason crying in the nursery upstairs. And I knew I was home.
Baby Jason was very tiny, and very early. I worried about the challenges he would face in the coming weeks and in the long term. I knew it was going to be a long road. The EMT assured me that his lungs were surprisingly strong. That was the biggest concern. He had been exposed to the elements for too long for a preemie.
The ride was filled with worries. I was going to have to raise this baby on my own. With each mile, my tension grew. I thought about Rebekah, she was gone forever. She would never see her son. She would never know that through it all, no matter what, I still loved her.
The ambulance pulled into the emergency bay and the EMT carried baby Jason through the sliding doors. I followed a half step behind. My body was exhausted. I had forgotten about my wrist. It didn't matter now. My focus was on my son. He was my family. That tiny little baby was all the family I had. I didn't care about anything else.
We didn't stop at the emergency room. We turned to the left and pushed our way through the double doors that led to the rest of the hospital. We took the elevator to the fourth floor. The EMT pushed stopped outside of two red doors. He pushed the yellow call button. A scratchy voice responded. He spoke in response.
"I've got the Samuels' baby."
The yellow button flashed and a buzz resounded through the hallway. He pushed the door open and we entered the secured area. It was the ICU. County Medical wasn't big enough to have a designated Neonatal ICU, but there wasn't time to drive, or even fly Jason to a better hospital. His care needed to start now. Nurses swarmed around us and whisked Jason off to a room. They cleaned him and inspected him. Nothing went unnoticed. I sat in the chair and watched as they worked. Methodical and yet with speed. Finally they put him in a small clear plastic bassinet. They lowered the top in place, sealing him off from the outside world and the contaminants that threatened him. Tiny patches covered his body, monitoring various functions. Devices set up next to his bed buzzed and beeped and dripped life into my son.
I left my place in the chair and stood at his side. I stared down at him. I never thought a ray of hope and a sliver of joy would result from this disaster, but there he was. I reached my hand down and slid it into the glove that allowed me to touch my son. I brushed my index finger over his chest. He moved slightly. I smile broke the stiffness of my face.
"Hi buddy! I'm your daddy. Yeah, you're going to get big and strong and then you're going to come home with me."
I thought I saw him smile. But I'm sure it was my imagination. I pulled my hand from the glove and stepped to the nurses station. I had a few questions. I wanted to know how long my son would be here. I wanted to know if he was OK.
The nurse took me back to his side, pulled up a chair, and sat me down.
"Mr. Samuels, Jason, that's the name you settled on, right?"
"Yes. Jason Lyle Samuels."
"Very well. They'll come up to fill out the official birth certificate in a little while. But, your son, Jason, he's going to be fine. It's going to take some time though. He's a strong little guy. His lungs are much stronger than we would expect this early. We're helping him breathe a bit, because we don't want those lungs to get fatigued and cause him other problems. I can't say there is any major concern right now. We just need to get some food in him and get some weight on him so you can take him home. I'm not a doctor, and with preemies things can change quickly, so we want to keep an eye on him for a while. But I'd say a week, two tops, and you're little guy will be home in your arms."
I didn't have words to respond. I had braced my self for bad news. I was worried. This was my son. My parental instincts were rushing at me full steam.
"Do you have any other questions I can answer?"
"No. I just wanted to know he was OK."
She smiled warmly and stood from her seat.
"This one's a fighter Mr. Samuels. Are you sure you're alright? Do you need us to bring you anything?"
"No. I've got everything I need right here."
I stood as a sign of courtesy.
"Well then, get some rest. I'll be in to check on him periodically."
She reached out her arm to shake my hand. Without a second thought, I responded in kind. She grasped my hand and firmly shook. The pain paralyzed me. I fell back into the chair. Her face was painted with confusion and concern.
"Mr. Samuels. Are you alright? What is it?"
"My wrist. Oh, God, my wrist."
She waved her hand for another nurse.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Pull my chart. My wrist was shattered a few months ago. They repaired it with pins and screws. I fell on it today. I felt things shift."
"We need to get you downstairs right away. You need an X-ray. And probably another surgery to fix it."
The two nurses crowded over me, trying to help me to my feet.
"I know. I know."
I spoke quietly, then much louder. I motioned with my arms for space. They took a step back.
"Just give me a moment. I need a minute."
"Yessir."
"Of course."
They took another step back as I stood up again. I stepped to my son's side and watched his chest rise and fall. I watched as he slept and breathed in the air of this world.
"Welcome to Dakota, buddy. I'll be back. Don't you go anywhere."
I winked. I knew he couldn't see me.
"I love you."
I turned back to the nurses, who both appeared as if they were about to cry.
"Let's go.
I ushered them both out.
The nurse who had answered my questions stayed behind while the other took me downstairs to be treated. They didn't make me wait at the emergency room. I went straight to X-ray.
After the X-ray tech took the images, I sat in the orange plastic chair outside the room and waited for the doctor. The tech told me it was the same doctor that had performed my initial surgery, but I was unconscious when they brought me in, so to me it didn't make a difference.
When the doctor finally came she didn't say much. She just shook my hand, my left hand, and escorted me to the operating room. Her team was already assembled. She had me lay on the table, they administered anesthesia, and went to work.
/ / /
I don't know how long the surgery lasted, or how long I was out, but when I awoke, a familiar face was at my side. Karen smiled at me, but immediately began on the defensive.
"I know you don't want me here. I know. But I saw your name on the board at the nurse's station and I couldn't just not come in and see you. I'm sorry."
I spoke slowly and carefully weighed my words.
"It's alright. It's just been a very long day."
"So how'd you mess up the wrist again?"
I was still groggy. My mouth was cottony. My eyes were heavy.
"Like I said, it's been a very long day. There's an unbelievable story to tell. But now is not the time."
"I'm sorry. Maybe I should go."
"No."
I cut her off. I didn't want to be alone. Not now.
"Can you just sit with me?"
She slid her chair forward. She still smiled. She reached her hand up and wrapped it around mine.
"Sure. I'll sit with you as long as you'd like."
I didn't respond. I turned my head to face her. I looked into her eyes. Blink. She knew that the past was forgiven. She squeezed my hand. I smiled in reply and let my eyes drift closed once more.
/ / /
That spring had a certain calmness to it. After the bodies were buried in the ground, I said my final goodbyes to Janie and Rebekah. Kahle was officially sworn in as the new Sheriff for Wessington and the surrounding county. Karen made regular visits to check on me, but her stops weren't all work related. Jason came home from the hospital after nine days in the ICU. Doctors said they never saw a preemie make such a rapid recovery. I settled in to the life of being a father.
I left Chicago behind me. I let go of those days when I thought I couldn't survive outside the city. The country air rejuvenated me. I felt more alive than before. My focus turned from editing to writing. I had spent my life reading others people's work. For the first time, I allowed myself to explore my own creativity, professionally. Days passed, they turned into weeks and months.
I sat in the office, huddled beneath the stairs, as I tapped away at the keys on the keyboard. Jason slept soundly in the nursery which had been his uncle's room. It had been almost a year since I returned to Dakota. Life was different now. I scrolled back to the top of the page. I clicked 'Save'. And waited as the pages slowly fed their way through the printer. I glanced over at the baby monitor before pulling the sheets from the tray. I fingered them gently, careful not to smudge the fresh ink. I turned them over and lay them face down on the larger stack that set to the left of the computer. I took a deep breath and lifted the thick stack. I flipped it over and stared at it. It intimidated me. I rubbed my fingers over the title. The corners of my eyes were moist. I half smiled before folding the screen down on the laptop. I rubbed my fingers across the title once more. Coming Home: A True Story of Love and Loss.
I stood, and walked to the door. I switched off the light and pulled the door shut behind me. I leaned against it for a moment. My mind wandered. I was brought back by the sound of Jason crying in the nursery upstairs. And I knew I was home.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Dying to Live
When all the color of the world begins to fade,
when they run and fade like watercolors,
the canvas is wiped clean again.
The pigments combine and swirl into grey.
At the end of the day,
death comes.
The sun hides behind the hills.
Warmth escapes until another day.
It ends the same for us all.
The means, the circumstances vary from one to another,
but fate comes.
Fate doesn't discriminate.
It reaches out and grabs us all.
We try to run.
We try to go back.
We want to be younger.
We want to be more attractive.
But youth is unattainable.
From birth,
the process of dying begins.
For some the process is much shorter than others.
With age,
wrinkles crack our skin and creep across our faces.
They wither our vibrancy and strangle our pallor.
They dry our humor and steal our will and strength.
It's unavoidable.
The sun sets.
Death comes.
And new life will spring up to replace what was lost.
But for you and I,
we have no choice but to march forward into the flames.
We must accept the death which lies before us.
Today,
tomorrow,
or somewhere down the road,
it will stare us face to face.
It will grab us
and bring us to our knees.
It will wrap its icy fingers around our necks
and strangle the life from our bodies.
Be sure.
Death will come.
when they run and fade like watercolors,
the canvas is wiped clean again.
The pigments combine and swirl into grey.
At the end of the day,
death comes.
The sun hides behind the hills.
Warmth escapes until another day.
It ends the same for us all.
The means, the circumstances vary from one to another,
but fate comes.
Fate doesn't discriminate.
It reaches out and grabs us all.
We try to run.
We try to go back.
We want to be younger.
We want to be more attractive.
But youth is unattainable.
From birth,
the process of dying begins.
For some the process is much shorter than others.
With age,
wrinkles crack our skin and creep across our faces.
They wither our vibrancy and strangle our pallor.
They dry our humor and steal our will and strength.
It's unavoidable.
The sun sets.
Death comes.
And new life will spring up to replace what was lost.
But for you and I,
we have no choice but to march forward into the flames.
We must accept the death which lies before us.
Today,
tomorrow,
or somewhere down the road,
it will stare us face to face.
It will grab us
and bring us to our knees.
It will wrap its icy fingers around our necks
and strangle the life from our bodies.
Be sure.
Death will come.
Dakota (Ch 38)
Kahle held the new baby in his arms. He wasn't sure what to do next. He couldn't chase a killer with a child in tow. Backup hadn't arrived from any of the local counties or the FBI. Gunshots continued to echo through the woods at sporadic intervals, not all were fired from a shotgun. Someone else was shooting, shooting back. He knew there were dead bodies scattered around the outside of the house. The four FBI agents had been methodically hunted by the shooter. Each of them taken out. He left Rebekah's side and began the walk back to his car. He moved slowly. He crossed the dirt lane, passing Rebekah's car and the slumped body of the final FBI agent to be shot. The dirt surrounding him was a muddy red. It looked like clay. Kahle continued his walk. He felt relief as he finally heard the distant cry of sirens racing towards him. He saw his car, parked behind the pines, fifteen yards in the distance.
"Goddammit! It's over. It's over!"
He heard the voice call out from somewhere in the woods. He turned on his heels and set out towards the house. He moved at a quicker pace now. He stepped down the lane. He passed another body of an FBI agent. He had fallen face down in the dirt. Shot from behind. Never saw it coming. His eyes shifted from the body to the house. His gaze was fixed on the front door which hung ajar. He crossed in front of the surveillance vehicle parked at the end of the front walk and proceeded toward the door.
/ / /
I stared at the lifeless form of my brother's killer for a few moments. She was likely my sister's killer as well. Justice had been served. I got my answers. I hit my target. Now that the story had ended, the pain returned to my wrist. It was slowly creeping up my arm. I lifted my head and looked back at the house. I turned one hundred eighty degrees and set off into the woods. Janie was out there. Hopefully alive. Probably dead. I knew that. I walked over fallen branches and the early shoots of spring. The ground beneath my feet was soft. The sounds of spring returned. Birds sang in the distance. Branches swayed as the wind whistled over the trees. The sun shone bright.
I had gone thirty or forty yards when I saw her. She lie face down in the leaves. Her right arm was fully outstretched. Her left was bent back and rested on the small of her back. Her right leg was also stiff and straight. The left bent slightly at the knee. I stopped a few paces before reaching her body. She was the final piece of my family. I felt the emotion catch up with my body. My arms trembled. Tears overcame me. I stepped closer to her, each step more tentative than the last. Finally, I found myself at her side. Blink. I dropped to my knees. I couldn't attempt to hold back the emotion. I leaned forward and draped my body across hers. It was like September all over again. My grief turned to happiness. Memories floated into my mind. Those feathers found a resting place. It was still and quiet. A smile broke the pane of my face. I remembered the smiles. The snowball fights. The fort among the trees. The canoe. The hunting trips with Dad. The pies Mom had backed. The trip to Jamaica. Memories flooded my mind. Memories I hadn't recalled for years. I clung to each one before it slipped away and another took its place.
I returned to my knees next to Janie's body. Blood now stained my shirt. I stared at her. A few paltry words exited my mouth.
"Rest in peace, sis. You're stronger, braver, than I."
It was only a whisper. I cleared my throat.
"Say hi to Mom and Dad for me. Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them I love them."
I rose to my feet.
"It's just me in this life. I'll see you soon, someday."
"Jake?"
He spoke from behind me. I turned slowly to face the familiar voice.
"You're not alone in this world."
The sirens were near. They would be here soon. My emotions see-sawed as I was struck with the first image of my child.
"You have your son. You have him to live for."
Kahle held him tightly in his arms. I set the gun down in leaves and he passed my son to me. I hugged him. I kissed his head. Reality jarred me. I shot a glance to Kahle.
"Rebekah?"
He reached out his hand and placed it on my shoulder.
"She stayed with me just long enough to make it through the delivery. I'm sorry Jake."
I fell to my knees again. I was torn between grief and joy. This should have been the proudest moment in my life. It was marred with tragedy and loss instead.
"I know you're overwhelmed right now Jake. But we gotta get out to the road. This little guy is gonna need a doctor. We gotta get him on an ambulance."
"Jason--"
"What about him?"
"No. Jason. His name is Jason. Jason Lyle Samuels."
Kahle paused for a moment and I could tell he was swallowing back his emotion.
"I think that's the perfect name for him."
The three of us faced the road and began the walk between the trees.
"Goddammit! It's over. It's over!"
He heard the voice call out from somewhere in the woods. He turned on his heels and set out towards the house. He moved at a quicker pace now. He stepped down the lane. He passed another body of an FBI agent. He had fallen face down in the dirt. Shot from behind. Never saw it coming. His eyes shifted from the body to the house. His gaze was fixed on the front door which hung ajar. He crossed in front of the surveillance vehicle parked at the end of the front walk and proceeded toward the door.
/ / /
I stared at the lifeless form of my brother's killer for a few moments. She was likely my sister's killer as well. Justice had been served. I got my answers. I hit my target. Now that the story had ended, the pain returned to my wrist. It was slowly creeping up my arm. I lifted my head and looked back at the house. I turned one hundred eighty degrees and set off into the woods. Janie was out there. Hopefully alive. Probably dead. I knew that. I walked over fallen branches and the early shoots of spring. The ground beneath my feet was soft. The sounds of spring returned. Birds sang in the distance. Branches swayed as the wind whistled over the trees. The sun shone bright.
I had gone thirty or forty yards when I saw her. She lie face down in the leaves. Her right arm was fully outstretched. Her left was bent back and rested on the small of her back. Her right leg was also stiff and straight. The left bent slightly at the knee. I stopped a few paces before reaching her body. She was the final piece of my family. I felt the emotion catch up with my body. My arms trembled. Tears overcame me. I stepped closer to her, each step more tentative than the last. Finally, I found myself at her side. Blink. I dropped to my knees. I couldn't attempt to hold back the emotion. I leaned forward and draped my body across hers. It was like September all over again. My grief turned to happiness. Memories floated into my mind. Those feathers found a resting place. It was still and quiet. A smile broke the pane of my face. I remembered the smiles. The snowball fights. The fort among the trees. The canoe. The hunting trips with Dad. The pies Mom had backed. The trip to Jamaica. Memories flooded my mind. Memories I hadn't recalled for years. I clung to each one before it slipped away and another took its place.
I returned to my knees next to Janie's body. Blood now stained my shirt. I stared at her. A few paltry words exited my mouth.
"Rest in peace, sis. You're stronger, braver, than I."
It was only a whisper. I cleared my throat.
"Say hi to Mom and Dad for me. Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them I love them."
I rose to my feet.
"It's just me in this life. I'll see you soon, someday."
"Jake?"
He spoke from behind me. I turned slowly to face the familiar voice.
"You're not alone in this world."
The sirens were near. They would be here soon. My emotions see-sawed as I was struck with the first image of my child.
"You have your son. You have him to live for."
Kahle held him tightly in his arms. I set the gun down in leaves and he passed my son to me. I hugged him. I kissed his head. Reality jarred me. I shot a glance to Kahle.
"Rebekah?"
He reached out his hand and placed it on my shoulder.
"She stayed with me just long enough to make it through the delivery. I'm sorry Jake."
I fell to my knees again. I was torn between grief and joy. This should have been the proudest moment in my life. It was marred with tragedy and loss instead.
"I know you're overwhelmed right now Jake. But we gotta get out to the road. This little guy is gonna need a doctor. We gotta get him on an ambulance."
"Jason--"
"What about him?"
"No. Jason. His name is Jason. Jason Lyle Samuels."
Kahle paused for a moment and I could tell he was swallowing back his emotion.
"I think that's the perfect name for him."
The three of us faced the road and began the walk between the trees.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Dakota (Ch 37)
I had persuaded Janie to do things my way instead. I didn't want to run. But she needed to. It was her only way to survive. She put on one of my flannels and pulled on an old ballcap. It wasn't the most convincing disguise, but it was all that we could garner in the few minutes we had. I sent her off with the shotgun. Just in case. I wanted her to have a means of protection. I on the other hand relied on the gun Rebekah had shoved in my face. I unlocked the liquor cabinet and found it where I had left it. I glanced out the window in the the back door and saw Janie moving slowly away from the house. I had told her to, 'Move forward. Don't look back.' She had listened. I knew there wasn't much time. A shot sounded again from outside. This one was very near the house. I paused for one more look out the window, she was still standing. Blink. I ducked under the stairs and took my place beneath the desk. I held the gun in my left hand, and hoped that I would be able to hit my target. The pain still swelled through my right wrist. Sweat was already running down the sides of my face and neck. My heart raced. My breathing was labored and unsteady.
A gun shot rang out once more. This was it. I heard the front door swing back and hit the wall. I sat silently and listened as footsteps moved inside, and circled the living room. It was impossible to move across old wooden floors without a sound. I waited. I lost track of the movements. He had moved to far away. He had to be in the kitchen or dining room. I anticipated his track. I waited for him to exit the kitchen and head for the stairs. I waited. Where was he? I tried to hold it together. I was getting anxious.
I heard another shot discharge from his gun. It sounded like it came from outside. It wasn't inside the house. It wasn't aimed at me. My thoughts turned to Janie. He must have seen her. She hadn't made it out of sight in time.
I pushed back the chair and opened the door letting in a sliver of light. I didn't see him. I didn't hear any footsteps. I pushed it open the rest of the way and ducked low as I slinked through the kitchen. I stepped in front of the back door and there, twenty paces ahead I saw the form of a body clad in black. I turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. I dragged my foot onto the wooden planks. The door hung ajar. I stretched out my arm, cocked the hammer, placed my finger on the trigger, closed one eye, took a deep breath, and fired.
The hammer smacked back. The bullet propelled itself toward the target. I exhaled. I didn't waste a moment. In a seamless motion, I cocked the hammer, placed my finger on the trigger, closed one eye, took a deep breath, and fired again. As the second bullet torpedoed towards the target, I lowered my weapon and stepped forward. His shotgun fell on its butt end before landing prostrate between some fallen branches. The shooter stumbled, dropped to his knees and collapsed on the forest floor with a soft thud.
I glided down the old stairs and walked steadily in the direction of the shooter. I cocked back the hammer and readied to shoot again. The thirty paces from the porch to the body seemed like ten miles. By the time I reached his side, I was panting. I was drenched in sweat. My breathing had grown more erratic. And my worry for Janie continued to grow.
I looked down at the figure of the man who had caused all of this pain. The one who had started this struggle. The one who had changed the course of so many lives. And the one who had destroyed my family. For a moment these Dakota woods were silent before I heard the faint call of sirens in the distance. Death surrounded me. I was the last one standing. Somehow, fate chose to let me stand tall while every other person fell.
I nudged the body with my foot. My bare feet stood out in stark contrast to the black coat and pants the shooter wore. I propped the body on its side before rolling it onto its back with my heel. The aim of my gun never left the target. I could see his chest still rising and falling. It was labored breathing. But he was still breathing nonetheless. I knelt down at his side, and reached out my right arm. Wincing from the pain, I pulled up the mask that covered his face.
My mind raced. I felt my eyes bulge. I felt betrayed. The body before me was that of Carolyn Murphy.
"Why?"
I spewed spit and disgust at her as I questioned. Her opened and closed slowly. She wetted her lips with her tongue. She swallowed back the pain.
"For love."
She stared directly into my eyes as she spoke.
"I don't understand. These people didn't deserve to die."
"I had no choice. It was time. I had to finish what I started."
I spoke rapidly. I wanted answers before it was too late. She struggled for each word.
"Jacob, it all started so long ago."
She looked into my eyes. For a moment I thought I saw concern or pity.
"Tell me. I need to know. I need to know why you killed my family."
"When I was in college, I, I..."
She pushed her left elbow into the ground and readjusted her body. Her legs were still twisted together.
"I spent a year studying in Costa Rica. When I was there, I met a man. I was young and naive, much like your sister Janie is now. I fell in love."
My eyes moved back and forth as if I was reading the words in print. I tried to process what she was telling me.
"Pablo de Amantillo."
"Yes. He told me he was about to take over his father's trading business. He was two years older than me. I was enthralled with the idea of meeting an exotic man. He was wealthy, he had it all. He treated me like his princess. That year...the year we spent together was the best year of my life."
"When did you find out the truth?"
I noticed the leaves were being stained with her blood. I didn't know how much time she had left. Her speech was still fairly steady, but it didn't come easy. She tried to speak but was interrupted by a few coughs. They were wet. Blood. I pushed my right arm under her shoulder and slid her body to a tree that stood a few feet away. I propped her up against the tree. The pain in my wrist was excruciating now. I ignored it and turned my attention back to her story.
"When?"
She slowly raised her left arm to her face and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Blood stained the cuff.
"We had been dating for about four months when I realized his father wasn't trading produce and handcrafts like he had said. It was drugs--"
She coughed again. She tried to bring her arm up but lost the strength midway through the motion. Her arm dropped to the ground. She let the blood and saliva run out of her mouth and onto the shoulder of her coat instead.
"For a while, I didn't let myself believe it. But eventually, I just decided it was best to just pretend I didn't know."
"What about Bobby? You loved him. What happened?"
She spoke with her eyes closed. She winced from the pain occasionally as she continued.
"My year of study ended. I wanted to stay despite what I knew, but I couldn't. My visa was going to expire. I tried to renew it, but it was denied. I went home."
The coughing returned.
"My love for him never faded. I went back every summer to be with him."
"I thought you took the kids to Boise to see your parents."
"I did. But I never stayed. I flew to Costa Rica to be with Pablo."
The coughing was no longer intermittent. It was getting worse. Blood now stained her lips and chin.
"Last summer he hold me not to bother coming down. It was the firs time in years."
She looked up at me for the first time since she had begun her story. Blink.
"He said he had a new girl. Janie."
She paused for a long moment. I thought I had lost her completely.
"Carolyn. Stay with me. Finish it."
"Jake, I never meant to kill Jason. I'm sorry. I wanted information about Janie. I wanted to know where she was. Pablo had told me she ran. I thought Jay would know something."
She paused and swallowed the blood that continued to pool in her mouth.
"He got defensive, I got angry. I panicked. I told him I was leaving. I went to the van we used to use for the store's deliveries. I got my shotgun. I went back inside and I killed him. I'm sorry Jake."
She glanced up at me again. I stared down at her without emotion. Apologies wouldn't bring him back.
"I brought the knife to scare him. I didn't think. I just put it in his hand. And left. I took off up the lane and turned on Elk River towards home. I saw lights in my rear view mirror. That must have been you."
"I was that close. That close!"
I couldn't believe the story. It was too much to process at once. I tried to slow my mind.
"It wouldn't have saved him. And you'd probably be dead too."
I nodded.
She was almost gone. Her speech grew slower.
"Why'd you kill Bobby?"
"I was tired of him. I knew that once Janie was gone. Pablo would want me again. I was ready to move on."
"You had a family..."
"I know. But I loved him. Once Jay and Bobby were gone, I couldn't stop. Time rolled by but I had to finish what I started. Janie came home. It was just a matter of waiting for the right time."
"You destroyed my family."
She was gasping for air now. Blood blocked her airway. It spilled out of her mouth and ran down her chin and neck.
"But I got...her."
Her head sagged down. It was over.
A gun shot rang out once more. This was it. I heard the front door swing back and hit the wall. I sat silently and listened as footsteps moved inside, and circled the living room. It was impossible to move across old wooden floors without a sound. I waited. I lost track of the movements. He had moved to far away. He had to be in the kitchen or dining room. I anticipated his track. I waited for him to exit the kitchen and head for the stairs. I waited. Where was he? I tried to hold it together. I was getting anxious.
I heard another shot discharge from his gun. It sounded like it came from outside. It wasn't inside the house. It wasn't aimed at me. My thoughts turned to Janie. He must have seen her. She hadn't made it out of sight in time.
I pushed back the chair and opened the door letting in a sliver of light. I didn't see him. I didn't hear any footsteps. I pushed it open the rest of the way and ducked low as I slinked through the kitchen. I stepped in front of the back door and there, twenty paces ahead I saw the form of a body clad in black. I turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. I dragged my foot onto the wooden planks. The door hung ajar. I stretched out my arm, cocked the hammer, placed my finger on the trigger, closed one eye, took a deep breath, and fired.
The hammer smacked back. The bullet propelled itself toward the target. I exhaled. I didn't waste a moment. In a seamless motion, I cocked the hammer, placed my finger on the trigger, closed one eye, took a deep breath, and fired again. As the second bullet torpedoed towards the target, I lowered my weapon and stepped forward. His shotgun fell on its butt end before landing prostrate between some fallen branches. The shooter stumbled, dropped to his knees and collapsed on the forest floor with a soft thud.
I glided down the old stairs and walked steadily in the direction of the shooter. I cocked back the hammer and readied to shoot again. The thirty paces from the porch to the body seemed like ten miles. By the time I reached his side, I was panting. I was drenched in sweat. My breathing had grown more erratic. And my worry for Janie continued to grow.
I looked down at the figure of the man who had caused all of this pain. The one who had started this struggle. The one who had changed the course of so many lives. And the one who had destroyed my family. For a moment these Dakota woods were silent before I heard the faint call of sirens in the distance. Death surrounded me. I was the last one standing. Somehow, fate chose to let me stand tall while every other person fell.
I nudged the body with my foot. My bare feet stood out in stark contrast to the black coat and pants the shooter wore. I propped the body on its side before rolling it onto its back with my heel. The aim of my gun never left the target. I could see his chest still rising and falling. It was labored breathing. But he was still breathing nonetheless. I knelt down at his side, and reached out my right arm. Wincing from the pain, I pulled up the mask that covered his face.
My mind raced. I felt my eyes bulge. I felt betrayed. The body before me was that of Carolyn Murphy.
"Why?"
I spewed spit and disgust at her as I questioned. Her opened and closed slowly. She wetted her lips with her tongue. She swallowed back the pain.
"For love."
She stared directly into my eyes as she spoke.
"I don't understand. These people didn't deserve to die."
"I had no choice. It was time. I had to finish what I started."
I spoke rapidly. I wanted answers before it was too late. She struggled for each word.
"Jacob, it all started so long ago."
She looked into my eyes. For a moment I thought I saw concern or pity.
"Tell me. I need to know. I need to know why you killed my family."
"When I was in college, I, I..."
She pushed her left elbow into the ground and readjusted her body. Her legs were still twisted together.
"I spent a year studying in Costa Rica. When I was there, I met a man. I was young and naive, much like your sister Janie is now. I fell in love."
My eyes moved back and forth as if I was reading the words in print. I tried to process what she was telling me.
"Pablo de Amantillo."
"Yes. He told me he was about to take over his father's trading business. He was two years older than me. I was enthralled with the idea of meeting an exotic man. He was wealthy, he had it all. He treated me like his princess. That year...the year we spent together was the best year of my life."
"When did you find out the truth?"
I noticed the leaves were being stained with her blood. I didn't know how much time she had left. Her speech was still fairly steady, but it didn't come easy. She tried to speak but was interrupted by a few coughs. They were wet. Blood. I pushed my right arm under her shoulder and slid her body to a tree that stood a few feet away. I propped her up against the tree. The pain in my wrist was excruciating now. I ignored it and turned my attention back to her story.
"When?"
She slowly raised her left arm to her face and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Blood stained the cuff.
"We had been dating for about four months when I realized his father wasn't trading produce and handcrafts like he had said. It was drugs--"
She coughed again. She tried to bring her arm up but lost the strength midway through the motion. Her arm dropped to the ground. She let the blood and saliva run out of her mouth and onto the shoulder of her coat instead.
"For a while, I didn't let myself believe it. But eventually, I just decided it was best to just pretend I didn't know."
"What about Bobby? You loved him. What happened?"
She spoke with her eyes closed. She winced from the pain occasionally as she continued.
"My year of study ended. I wanted to stay despite what I knew, but I couldn't. My visa was going to expire. I tried to renew it, but it was denied. I went home."
The coughing returned.
"My love for him never faded. I went back every summer to be with him."
"I thought you took the kids to Boise to see your parents."
"I did. But I never stayed. I flew to Costa Rica to be with Pablo."
The coughing was no longer intermittent. It was getting worse. Blood now stained her lips and chin.
"Last summer he hold me not to bother coming down. It was the firs time in years."
She looked up at me for the first time since she had begun her story. Blink.
"He said he had a new girl. Janie."
She paused for a long moment. I thought I had lost her completely.
"Carolyn. Stay with me. Finish it."
"Jake, I never meant to kill Jason. I'm sorry. I wanted information about Janie. I wanted to know where she was. Pablo had told me she ran. I thought Jay would know something."
She paused and swallowed the blood that continued to pool in her mouth.
"He got defensive, I got angry. I panicked. I told him I was leaving. I went to the van we used to use for the store's deliveries. I got my shotgun. I went back inside and I killed him. I'm sorry Jake."
She glanced up at me again. I stared down at her without emotion. Apologies wouldn't bring him back.
"I brought the knife to scare him. I didn't think. I just put it in his hand. And left. I took off up the lane and turned on Elk River towards home. I saw lights in my rear view mirror. That must have been you."
"I was that close. That close!"
I couldn't believe the story. It was too much to process at once. I tried to slow my mind.
"It wouldn't have saved him. And you'd probably be dead too."
I nodded.
She was almost gone. Her speech grew slower.
"Why'd you kill Bobby?"
"I was tired of him. I knew that once Janie was gone. Pablo would want me again. I was ready to move on."
"You had a family..."
"I know. But I loved him. Once Jay and Bobby were gone, I couldn't stop. Time rolled by but I had to finish what I started. Janie came home. It was just a matter of waiting for the right time."
"You destroyed my family."
She was gasping for air now. Blood blocked her airway. It spilled out of her mouth and ran down her chin and neck.
"But I got...her."
Her head sagged down. It was over.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Dakota (Ch 36)
He tried to keep Rebekah focused. He tried to keep her calm. He knew she was in pain. He knew she was concerned for her baby. And he knew there was a killer out there. He locked his eyes on hers. Another shot broke the silence and ripped their eyes from one another.
"Dammit."
He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house. He didn't fully turn around, only checked the area out of the corner of his eye. For a moment he thought he saw movement at the door. He couldn't move. Not now. He had to focus on Rebekah.
"OK. It's alright. You're OK. Rebekah--"
He tapped her cheek with the back of his hand. He placed his thumbs on her eyelids and pulled them open.
"Beka...Beka. I need you to stay awake Rebekah. You can do this. You can do this for your baby. C'mon Beka, stay with me."
He removed his fingers. Her eyes fell shut, then slowly reopened. Her right arm twitched.
"Uh."
She couldn't say anything else. But she was awake. She found the strength to stay awake. The strength welled up from within.
"Keep your eyes open. Focus on something. Ignore the pain. Focus on something that can keep you awake."
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down. He pulled her shirt up over her belly. He took off his jacket and placed it under her legs.
"I need you to listen to me, OK?"
He looked back at her. Her head barely nodded. She didn't utter a sound.
"OK, when I tell you to push, I need you to try to push with everything that you have in you."
Again her head moved just slightly.
"Deep breath, Beka...and...push!"
Her back didn't arch. She didn't lean forward. She didn't squeeze his hand. But she pushed.
"Good. Good."
He readjusted his position. He now knelt between her legs, hands ready to cradle the infant. He pushed back some leaves and branches with the back of his hand.
"Uh."
She couldn't speak. But he knew that she was in pain. And the pain was very intense.
"OK. Time to go again. Push Rebekah, push."
Her body tensed and with the push he could now see the head. He kept coaching her. She pushed for a third time, a fourth, a fifth.
"Let's rest. Deep breaths. Calm it down."
He turned his head for a moment. He wanted to know what was going on in that house. He should have been there. He should have been inside. He should be taking down the killer right now. He wasn't happy with this alternative.
"Rebekah. We're almost there. But I need a big push. I need you to give it everything."
She nodded her acknowledgment. Tears filled the corners of her eyes. Sweat covered her brow. Her hair was matted into the leaves and pine needles behind her head.
"Ready? Push!"
She dug deep. Her eyes squeezed closed. Her ears turned red. Her mouth was held shut. He saw her fingers tense.
"Breathe, Beka, breathe!"
He had to remind her. She left out a deep gasp. The baby was fully crowned. She was so close.
"Alright. We gotta go again. One more Beka. One more, I promise that's all. But we gotta go now."
The baby was almost out. But for the moment it wasn't getting air. It's face was pressed against the wall of the birth canal. Kahle needed one more push to be able to slide the baby out.
"Now, Beka, now!"
The familiar sound echoed through the trees. Kahle knew it had been fired outside once again. But he didn't allow himself the time to turn and inspect the area. He didn't have time. He needed to get this baby out. He didn't have time to waste.
"Alright. It's OK. You're alright. Push! Push now Beka!"
Again her face grimaced. She brought herself slightly forward. She was stronger than he thought. His hands met the head as she successfully birthed the child. He gently pulled the baby the rest of the way from its mothers womb.
"Rebekah, it's a boy."
He pulled the jacket from the ground and did his best to wrap the tiny boy with it. He brushed off the loose leaves. The child's face was blue. It was early. She wasn't due for another 6 weeks. But he could tell that the boy was breathing.
"Rebekah, this is your baby boy. You did it. You made it. You're alright."
For the first time he looked up at her face. Her eyes again had that skyward gaze. They didn't blink. Her mouth hung slightly agape. Her palms both lay open and facing the shining sun. Hair clung to her forehead. Blood stained her chest and the ground between her legs. He lowered his head, and pulled her shirt down to cover her bare skin. He pushed her legs together with his knee. He knelt by her side and with one hand gently closed her eyes.
"You'll live on in him. He'll be safe. He'll be safe right here, always, under the Dakota sky."
He looked down at the infant in his arms. The child didn't move much. But his eyes rolled up for just a moment. To the sky.
"Dammit."
He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house. He didn't fully turn around, only checked the area out of the corner of his eye. For a moment he thought he saw movement at the door. He couldn't move. Not now. He had to focus on Rebekah.
"OK. It's alright. You're OK. Rebekah--"
He tapped her cheek with the back of his hand. He placed his thumbs on her eyelids and pulled them open.
"Beka...Beka. I need you to stay awake Rebekah. You can do this. You can do this for your baby. C'mon Beka, stay with me."
He removed his fingers. Her eyes fell shut, then slowly reopened. Her right arm twitched.
"Uh."
She couldn't say anything else. But she was awake. She found the strength to stay awake. The strength welled up from within.
"Keep your eyes open. Focus on something. Ignore the pain. Focus on something that can keep you awake."
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down. He pulled her shirt up over her belly. He took off his jacket and placed it under her legs.
"I need you to listen to me, OK?"
He looked back at her. Her head barely nodded. She didn't utter a sound.
"OK, when I tell you to push, I need you to try to push with everything that you have in you."
Again her head moved just slightly.
"Deep breath, Beka...and...push!"
Her back didn't arch. She didn't lean forward. She didn't squeeze his hand. But she pushed.
"Good. Good."
He readjusted his position. He now knelt between her legs, hands ready to cradle the infant. He pushed back some leaves and branches with the back of his hand.
"Uh."
She couldn't speak. But he knew that she was in pain. And the pain was very intense.
"OK. Time to go again. Push Rebekah, push."
Her body tensed and with the push he could now see the head. He kept coaching her. She pushed for a third time, a fourth, a fifth.
"Let's rest. Deep breaths. Calm it down."
He turned his head for a moment. He wanted to know what was going on in that house. He should have been there. He should have been inside. He should be taking down the killer right now. He wasn't happy with this alternative.
"Rebekah. We're almost there. But I need a big push. I need you to give it everything."
She nodded her acknowledgment. Tears filled the corners of her eyes. Sweat covered her brow. Her hair was matted into the leaves and pine needles behind her head.
"Ready? Push!"
She dug deep. Her eyes squeezed closed. Her ears turned red. Her mouth was held shut. He saw her fingers tense.
"Breathe, Beka, breathe!"
He had to remind her. She left out a deep gasp. The baby was fully crowned. She was so close.
"Alright. We gotta go again. One more Beka. One more, I promise that's all. But we gotta go now."
The baby was almost out. But for the moment it wasn't getting air. It's face was pressed against the wall of the birth canal. Kahle needed one more push to be able to slide the baby out.
"Now, Beka, now!"
The familiar sound echoed through the trees. Kahle knew it had been fired outside once again. But he didn't allow himself the time to turn and inspect the area. He didn't have time. He needed to get this baby out. He didn't have time to waste.
"Alright. It's OK. You're alright. Push! Push now Beka!"
Again her face grimaced. She brought herself slightly forward. She was stronger than he thought. His hands met the head as she successfully birthed the child. He gently pulled the baby the rest of the way from its mothers womb.
"Rebekah, it's a boy."
He pulled the jacket from the ground and did his best to wrap the tiny boy with it. He brushed off the loose leaves. The child's face was blue. It was early. She wasn't due for another 6 weeks. But he could tell that the boy was breathing.
"Rebekah, this is your baby boy. You did it. You made it. You're alright."
For the first time he looked up at her face. Her eyes again had that skyward gaze. They didn't blink. Her mouth hung slightly agape. Her palms both lay open and facing the shining sun. Hair clung to her forehead. Blood stained her chest and the ground between her legs. He lowered his head, and pulled her shirt down to cover her bare skin. He pushed her legs together with his knee. He knelt by her side and with one hand gently closed her eyes.
"You'll live on in him. He'll be safe. He'll be safe right here, always, under the Dakota sky."
He looked down at the infant in his arms. The child didn't move much. But his eyes rolled up for just a moment. To the sky.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tonight
I wrote this back in July of 2005. Angel called to tell me that Jonathan and Alyssa were engaged. It seems like a lifetime ago. But this captures the emotion of the moment for me. And Jon and Lyss, I'm so glad to know that life's journey just keeps getting better for you! Love you guys!
Tonight
Wish I could say
I was sitting underneath the stars
on this muggy summer’s night
But the clouds have rolled in
once again
and I’ve gone inside the cool
My mind’s been wandering lately
to the memories of my senior year
I can’t help but love
those simple days of the past
Sometimes I wish I could escape
the reality of now
and enter the youth of my history
Found out just today
that prom’s king and queen will become
2003’s first mister and misses- -
soon saying ‘I do’
I have to step back and let my mind attempt
to grasp the apparent realness of now
I’m praying for the day
that she comes my way
Don’t know quite how
but I’ll know it’s her somehow
In my heart I know my someone’s out there
The hardest part is not knowing
the when and the where
Turn back the pages of my yearbook
as I pass the time
in the dim light of the room
All the memories flood back into my mind
like a tidal wave of repressed delight
I glance over all the photos
and fast-forward to where they are now
The days are no longer simple
but complicated
Sometimes I wish I could escape
the reality of now
and enter the unknown of my future
Tonight
Wish I could say
I was sitting underneath the stars
on this muggy summer’s night
But the clouds have rolled in
once again
and I’ve gone inside the cool
My mind’s been wandering lately
to the memories of my senior year
I can’t help but love
those simple days of the past
Sometimes I wish I could escape
the reality of now
and enter the youth of my history
Found out just today
that prom’s king and queen will become
2003’s first mister and misses- -
soon saying ‘I do’
I have to step back and let my mind attempt
to grasp the apparent realness of now
I’m praying for the day
that she comes my way
Don’t know quite how
but I’ll know it’s her somehow
In my heart I know my someone’s out there
The hardest part is not knowing
the when and the where
Turn back the pages of my yearbook
as I pass the time
in the dim light of the room
All the memories flood back into my mind
like a tidal wave of repressed delight
I glance over all the photos
and fast-forward to where they are now
The days are no longer simple
but complicated
Sometimes I wish I could escape
the reality of now
and enter the unknown of my future
Dakota (Ch 35)
He was on his way up the gravel road when the sound of a shot ricocheted through the air. He slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a complete stop and sending a swirl of dusty air up around him. He waited for a moment so that it was clear in front of him. He looked around. It had come from too far off. He knew he wasn't close enough to the Samuels' yet, but the sound of the shot surprised him. And scared him. He punched the gas and sped off in the direction of the house and hoped that he wasn't too late for Rebekah. Or any of them. He knew he already had men down and he had called in so much backup he feared the National Guard would show up. That would be overkill. He kept the sirens off. He didn't want to scare this guy. He wanted to catch him. He wanted to take him in. He owed it to the Samuels and the Murphys. He owed it to Holt.
Trees swept past the windows as he neared the dirt lane. He slowed to a crawl and kept a careful watch of the area. He didn't want to risk get any closer. If the shooter was in the woods and saw the Sheriff's vehicle pull up, he was sure to become a target. He drifted to a stop behind a group of thick pines. He left the car, pulled on a brown jacket, unfastened his holster, and readied his weapon. He wasn't going to hesitate to shoot at any target he saw.
He walked slowly in soft fallen pine needles and half-rotted leaves that had just been made visible again from the spring thaw. He saw the three cars in the lane. Rebekah's door still hung open. All three appeared to be abandoned. As he continued to move along the road gaining a perspective of the situation, he crossed the lane and moved in the direction in which he assumed Rebekah would have moved. There was not a sound. No movement. Nothing. He glanced back at the open door and saw the body slumped against the side of the car. Panic set in. He rushed to the body. He leaned down expecting to see the face of Rebekah, but instead discovered that of a dead FBI agent. He was relieved she had made it out of the car. But his level of awareness peaked. This guy knew what he was doing, he was a trained member of a government agency, and the shooter took him out, one shot.
Crouching low, all of his weight on the balls of his feet, Kahle, scanned 360 degrees. Still nothing. He focus returned to that of Rebekah's path from the car. He moved in the direction of the road. He looked for ditches and adequate places to hide, as he had instructed her to do. As he moved, the silence faded and he heard the gasping of labored breathing. He moved steadily, but still cautiously in that direction. As the breathing grew nearer, louder, he spotted her yellow shirt. His pace quickened. He dropped on his knees at her side. She lie on her back, eyes toward the treetops and the sky beyond. Her gaze was glassy. She didn't recognize his presence. He took a visual inventory of her condition.
"Rebekah..."
He spoke softly but urgently. Her eyes batted slightly at the mention of her name. He put his hand around hers.
"Rebekah, I'm here. And help is on its way for you. You're going to be OK. You're going to be just fine."
He did his best to reassure her. There was a lot of blood. The brown leaves were stained to their autumnal reds once again. She was struggling for air. Her eyes never wavered from their skyward trance. She tried to speak. She tried to push a few words past her lips. It was difficult. But she finally was able to muster just two.
"My...baby..."
That was all. That was all that she could force out. Kahle's eyes shifted to her stomach. He placed his open palms on her belly. He reached for his radio and called for an ambulance. They were already on their way but he put a rush on one. He tried to assess her. She had been hit in the left shoulder. It was high enough that she might be able to get through it, but she had lost a lot of blood.
"Aahhh--"
She tried her best to squelch her scream. She tried to keep quiet. But the pain was too great. And the trauma from the gunshot was bringing on her labor.
"Rebekah, I need you to listen to me. Is the baby coming?"
She couldn't answer. She didn't have the strength. Blood was draining into her lungs.
"OK, OK, Rebekah? I need you to blink if you're in labor."
Blink.
"Alright. It's OK. It's alright. I can do this. Just hang in there. We can do this."
He couldn't do this. He was terrified. He was distracted. He had helped deliver two babies before. But that was under fairly normal circumstances. The expectant mothers had just waited too long before heading to the hospital. This was completely different. The mother could very well be dying. There was a lot of blood. He didn't know if she was going to be able to stay conscious to push. He didn't have any equipment. He was in the middle of the woods. There was a killer roaming the woods. The targets of that killer were still locked up in the house to his back. This was not normal. This was not a run of the mill Sheriff-delivering-a-baby-scenario. This wasn't in the training. This was essentially the combination of every piece of training and contingency that could possibly occur. And it was all happening at once, right now. He didn't have a choice. He was the only one on the scene. He was going to have to deal with one issue at a time. And Rebekah was first in line.
/ / /
After firing a fifth shot at the unknown figure in the distance, there was no reconsidering. He didn't know who was out there. But he didn't care. He was here for one reason and one reason alone. Jake and Janie Samuels needed to die. He turned abruptly toward the front of the house and completed the fifteen paces to the door. He stopped for a moment, raised the gun to his shoulder and blasted the knob off the door.
He pushed in and the door swung back against wall. He put out his foot to prevent it from swinging back and blocking his view. The room before him was empty. He moved past the coffee table, glanced into the kitchen and proceeded toward the fireplace. He rounded the other side of it and found himself in the dining room. The house was quiet. His head spun and took in the entirety of the room and the kitchen beyond. Blink. No one.
The door to the back porch was in front of him. He stepped up to it. He peered through the screen. His eyes dragged across the horizon from left to right. They stopped midway between center and right. Movement. He pushed open the door and stepped silently onto the wooden porch. He kept his foot in the door for a moment to prevent it from slamming shut. He descended the four or five stairs to the ground, keeping his eye on the body moving steadily away from the house. He raised the gun to his shoulder once again, and placed his index finger on the trigger. The nail was carefully manicured, precise. The trigger was pulled back. The blast left the barrel and propelled its way through the thin cool air of the early Dakota spring. The shell fell to the ground at the feet of the shooter. It bounced once on the soft forest floor and rolled to a rest against his left boot. The sound seemed to silence all other sounds. Birds didn't sing. The air didn't blow. The trees seemed to grow more rigid. Echoes bounced back and multiplied. The body in the distance stumbled and fell to the ground between the trees. A muffled thud answered back to the blast.
The shotgun was lowered. As a hunter retrieving his kill, the boots began their march in the direction of the fallen target.
Trees swept past the windows as he neared the dirt lane. He slowed to a crawl and kept a careful watch of the area. He didn't want to risk get any closer. If the shooter was in the woods and saw the Sheriff's vehicle pull up, he was sure to become a target. He drifted to a stop behind a group of thick pines. He left the car, pulled on a brown jacket, unfastened his holster, and readied his weapon. He wasn't going to hesitate to shoot at any target he saw.
He walked slowly in soft fallen pine needles and half-rotted leaves that had just been made visible again from the spring thaw. He saw the three cars in the lane. Rebekah's door still hung open. All three appeared to be abandoned. As he continued to move along the road gaining a perspective of the situation, he crossed the lane and moved in the direction in which he assumed Rebekah would have moved. There was not a sound. No movement. Nothing. He glanced back at the open door and saw the body slumped against the side of the car. Panic set in. He rushed to the body. He leaned down expecting to see the face of Rebekah, but instead discovered that of a dead FBI agent. He was relieved she had made it out of the car. But his level of awareness peaked. This guy knew what he was doing, he was a trained member of a government agency, and the shooter took him out, one shot.
Crouching low, all of his weight on the balls of his feet, Kahle, scanned 360 degrees. Still nothing. He focus returned to that of Rebekah's path from the car. He moved in the direction of the road. He looked for ditches and adequate places to hide, as he had instructed her to do. As he moved, the silence faded and he heard the gasping of labored breathing. He moved steadily, but still cautiously in that direction. As the breathing grew nearer, louder, he spotted her yellow shirt. His pace quickened. He dropped on his knees at her side. She lie on her back, eyes toward the treetops and the sky beyond. Her gaze was glassy. She didn't recognize his presence. He took a visual inventory of her condition.
"Rebekah..."
He spoke softly but urgently. Her eyes batted slightly at the mention of her name. He put his hand around hers.
"Rebekah, I'm here. And help is on its way for you. You're going to be OK. You're going to be just fine."
He did his best to reassure her. There was a lot of blood. The brown leaves were stained to their autumnal reds once again. She was struggling for air. Her eyes never wavered from their skyward trance. She tried to speak. She tried to push a few words past her lips. It was difficult. But she finally was able to muster just two.
"My...baby..."
That was all. That was all that she could force out. Kahle's eyes shifted to her stomach. He placed his open palms on her belly. He reached for his radio and called for an ambulance. They were already on their way but he put a rush on one. He tried to assess her. She had been hit in the left shoulder. It was high enough that she might be able to get through it, but she had lost a lot of blood.
"Aahhh--"
She tried her best to squelch her scream. She tried to keep quiet. But the pain was too great. And the trauma from the gunshot was bringing on her labor.
"Rebekah, I need you to listen to me. Is the baby coming?"
She couldn't answer. She didn't have the strength. Blood was draining into her lungs.
"OK, OK, Rebekah? I need you to blink if you're in labor."
Blink.
"Alright. It's OK. It's alright. I can do this. Just hang in there. We can do this."
He couldn't do this. He was terrified. He was distracted. He had helped deliver two babies before. But that was under fairly normal circumstances. The expectant mothers had just waited too long before heading to the hospital. This was completely different. The mother could very well be dying. There was a lot of blood. He didn't know if she was going to be able to stay conscious to push. He didn't have any equipment. He was in the middle of the woods. There was a killer roaming the woods. The targets of that killer were still locked up in the house to his back. This was not normal. This was not a run of the mill Sheriff-delivering-a-baby-scenario. This wasn't in the training. This was essentially the combination of every piece of training and contingency that could possibly occur. And it was all happening at once, right now. He didn't have a choice. He was the only one on the scene. He was going to have to deal with one issue at a time. And Rebekah was first in line.
/ / /
After firing a fifth shot at the unknown figure in the distance, there was no reconsidering. He didn't know who was out there. But he didn't care. He was here for one reason and one reason alone. Jake and Janie Samuels needed to die. He turned abruptly toward the front of the house and completed the fifteen paces to the door. He stopped for a moment, raised the gun to his shoulder and blasted the knob off the door.
He pushed in and the door swung back against wall. He put out his foot to prevent it from swinging back and blocking his view. The room before him was empty. He moved past the coffee table, glanced into the kitchen and proceeded toward the fireplace. He rounded the other side of it and found himself in the dining room. The house was quiet. His head spun and took in the entirety of the room and the kitchen beyond. Blink. No one.
The door to the back porch was in front of him. He stepped up to it. He peered through the screen. His eyes dragged across the horizon from left to right. They stopped midway between center and right. Movement. He pushed open the door and stepped silently onto the wooden porch. He kept his foot in the door for a moment to prevent it from slamming shut. He descended the four or five stairs to the ground, keeping his eye on the body moving steadily away from the house. He raised the gun to his shoulder once again, and placed his index finger on the trigger. The nail was carefully manicured, precise. The trigger was pulled back. The blast left the barrel and propelled its way through the thin cool air of the early Dakota spring. The shell fell to the ground at the feet of the shooter. It bounced once on the soft forest floor and rolled to a rest against his left boot. The sound seemed to silence all other sounds. Birds didn't sing. The air didn't blow. The trees seemed to grow more rigid. Echoes bounced back and multiplied. The body in the distance stumbled and fell to the ground between the trees. A muffled thud answered back to the blast.
The shotgun was lowered. As a hunter retrieving his kill, the boots began their march in the direction of the fallen target.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Dakota (Ch 34)
After the fourth shot, I knew Janie and I were now the only target. We now had the full attention of the shooter. The only thing standing between us and him was the front door. I didn't know how this was going to go down. I didn't see an acceptable outcome. If Janie didn't shoot first, we were both goners. She kept her focus on the door, but her body fidgeted. She couldn't sit still. Her eyes shot to me for a moment, then back to the door. She spoke in a whisper.
"Jake. Don't say anything. Just do what I tell you. You're not going to want to hear it. But you need to. Just do what I say. OK?"
"Janie--"
"Just tell me now. Promise me that you'll listen to what I tell you."
"I can't make that promise."
"If you love me, you will. Please, Jacob, please."
Her eyes left the door for a moment and she looked directly into my eyes. It was as if she could see inside me. She could see my fear. She could see my concern. She could see my love. Blink. I dropped my head. I didn't know exactly what she was going to ask me to do, but I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I already knew that I couldn't do it. I knew that I wouldn't want to. But I loved her. And I trusted her. So I shook my head and made the commitment anyway.
"Alright Janie."
I felt the emotions bubbling back up again. My eyes were moist. I was still sweating from the tension of the moment.
"I promise...I'll do it."
I worked hard to get those words out.
"Go. Grab your phone and go."
"What do you mean go?"
I spoke at full volume before catching myself midway through my protest. I sat more rigidly. For a moment, I forgot about the pain in my wrist.
"I mean, get the hell out of here. This isn't about you. It's about me. So go. Just go. Run. This'll end one way or another, but you shouldn't have to go down because of me. Go."
"I'm not leaving you here."
"Yes you are. You promised me. And I expect you to honor that promise. It may be my last wish."
"Don't say that. We're gonna make it."
"We don't know that anymore. It could go either way. I don't want you here if that guy wins. And I don't want you dead."
"I can't just leave you here."
"You can and you will. Now hurry up. You're wasting time. That last shot was further away, but the shooter will be headed back toward the house. You have to go now."
"What kind of big brother just leaves his sister behind?"
"You're not leaving me. Now goddammit get the hell out. Do it. Go!"
"I love you Janie."
"I love you too. But please..."
She trailed off. She looked back at me for a moment. She didn't say another word. She just mouthed, 'Go'.
/ / /
He bent down and glanced in the vehicle Rebekah had abandoned. It was unoccupied. He looked up again. His eyes scanned the woods. It was still. It was quiet. He walked behind the car and circled to the other side. He scanned the woods again. North, South, East, West. No one. He was concerned with the idea that someone else was also in the woods with him. Who were they? Where were they? Why were they here? His attention turned back toward the house. He didn't have time. Someone would have heard the shots. Someone would have called the Sheriff by now, even out here. He couldn't waste time searching for a phantom in the forest. He was here for one reason. He was going to finish what he started. This had gone on long enough. It was time to put an end to it. It was time that Janie Samuels met her end. She couldn't just walk away from Pablo de Amantillo. And someone got in the way, they'd meet their own fateful end.
He proceeded down the dirt lane in the direction of the Samuels' house. He didn't rush. He took his time. He was sure to keep cover behind trees on his trek. He paused every three paces or so to scan the area again for the mystery visitor. He was unaware that at the same time, Rebekah watched as he made his progress towards the house. She watched and waited, nervously.
He made steady progress toward the house. The tension grew with each step. Someone was out there. Someone was watching, waiting. He stopped and rested behind the other FBI agents' car. He knelt behind it and faced away from the house. Nothing. He didn't see anyone. Someone was out there, and whoever it was had made themselves the enemy. Just for being out there.
He began again at the abandoned car. He scanned away from it. The door was left open. The driver would have moved in that direction. He carefully examined the woods. He paused at each tree. He saw only green and brown. Nothing. He glanced at the house. The curtains were all drawn. It was quiet. There was no movement. He made a move passed the cabin and paused behind the hood of the car. His focus was still on the woods. He traced the path again, from the vehicle towards the house. It was time.
He ducked down and hurried to the corner of the house. With his back to the wall he prepared to move beneath the front window, to the door. The silence of the Dakota Woods was shattered. In the distance, the digital tones of a cell phone ringer chirped.
She didn't know what to do. She grabbed for the phone to silence it. Kahle had warned her. She forgot. She hadn't done it. Fear surged through her. Her body shook.
He spun his head in the direction of the sound. Staying low to the ground, he spotted the movement of a young pine, between the branches, a patch of yellow was visible. In one swift motion, he raised the gun to his shoulder and fired.
"Jake. Don't say anything. Just do what I tell you. You're not going to want to hear it. But you need to. Just do what I say. OK?"
"Janie--"
"Just tell me now. Promise me that you'll listen to what I tell you."
"I can't make that promise."
"If you love me, you will. Please, Jacob, please."
Her eyes left the door for a moment and she looked directly into my eyes. It was as if she could see inside me. She could see my fear. She could see my concern. She could see my love. Blink. I dropped my head. I didn't know exactly what she was going to ask me to do, but I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I already knew that I couldn't do it. I knew that I wouldn't want to. But I loved her. And I trusted her. So I shook my head and made the commitment anyway.
"Alright Janie."
I felt the emotions bubbling back up again. My eyes were moist. I was still sweating from the tension of the moment.
"I promise...I'll do it."
I worked hard to get those words out.
"Go. Grab your phone and go."
"What do you mean go?"
I spoke at full volume before catching myself midway through my protest. I sat more rigidly. For a moment, I forgot about the pain in my wrist.
"I mean, get the hell out of here. This isn't about you. It's about me. So go. Just go. Run. This'll end one way or another, but you shouldn't have to go down because of me. Go."
"I'm not leaving you here."
"Yes you are. You promised me. And I expect you to honor that promise. It may be my last wish."
"Don't say that. We're gonna make it."
"We don't know that anymore. It could go either way. I don't want you here if that guy wins. And I don't want you dead."
"I can't just leave you here."
"You can and you will. Now hurry up. You're wasting time. That last shot was further away, but the shooter will be headed back toward the house. You have to go now."
"What kind of big brother just leaves his sister behind?"
"You're not leaving me. Now goddammit get the hell out. Do it. Go!"
"I love you Janie."
"I love you too. But please..."
She trailed off. She looked back at me for a moment. She didn't say another word. She just mouthed, 'Go'.
/ / /
He bent down and glanced in the vehicle Rebekah had abandoned. It was unoccupied. He looked up again. His eyes scanned the woods. It was still. It was quiet. He walked behind the car and circled to the other side. He scanned the woods again. North, South, East, West. No one. He was concerned with the idea that someone else was also in the woods with him. Who were they? Where were they? Why were they here? His attention turned back toward the house. He didn't have time. Someone would have heard the shots. Someone would have called the Sheriff by now, even out here. He couldn't waste time searching for a phantom in the forest. He was here for one reason. He was going to finish what he started. This had gone on long enough. It was time to put an end to it. It was time that Janie Samuels met her end. She couldn't just walk away from Pablo de Amantillo. And someone got in the way, they'd meet their own fateful end.
He proceeded down the dirt lane in the direction of the Samuels' house. He didn't rush. He took his time. He was sure to keep cover behind trees on his trek. He paused every three paces or so to scan the area again for the mystery visitor. He was unaware that at the same time, Rebekah watched as he made his progress towards the house. She watched and waited, nervously.
He made steady progress toward the house. The tension grew with each step. Someone was out there. Someone was watching, waiting. He stopped and rested behind the other FBI agents' car. He knelt behind it and faced away from the house. Nothing. He didn't see anyone. Someone was out there, and whoever it was had made themselves the enemy. Just for being out there.
He began again at the abandoned car. He scanned away from it. The door was left open. The driver would have moved in that direction. He carefully examined the woods. He paused at each tree. He saw only green and brown. Nothing. He glanced at the house. The curtains were all drawn. It was quiet. There was no movement. He made a move passed the cabin and paused behind the hood of the car. His focus was still on the woods. He traced the path again, from the vehicle towards the house. It was time.
He ducked down and hurried to the corner of the house. With his back to the wall he prepared to move beneath the front window, to the door. The silence of the Dakota Woods was shattered. In the distance, the digital tones of a cell phone ringer chirped.
She didn't know what to do. She grabbed for the phone to silence it. Kahle had warned her. She forgot. She hadn't done it. Fear surged through her. Her body shook.
He spun his head in the direction of the sound. Staying low to the ground, he spotted the movement of a young pine, between the branches, a patch of yellow was visible. In one swift motion, he raised the gun to his shoulder and fired.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Dakota (Ch 33)
I sat for a moment without moving. My breathing was heavy. I was sweating. I stared blankly at the bedroom door. I wanted to get up. I didn't know what to do. My legs felt as if they were made of concrete. My body didn't want to move. Blink. I pressed my open palms against the sides of my face. The tips of my fingers pushed my hair back. I rubbed consciousness back into my body. I lifted my legs and placed two feet on the floor. I pushed down on the edge of the bed with my hands and stood. I walked to the door and pulled it open. I heard the gun discharge again, as it echoed through the woods.
"Janie!"
The adrenaline kicked in. My body caught up with my mind. It was hear. No more waiting. This guy was here. He wanted to kill Janie. He wanted to kill me. This was it. We had to fight back, or die.
I sped down the stairs and hit Janie full force at the doorway to the kitchen. She screamed.
"Goddammit Jake!"
We both stumbled backwards. I tried to stay on my feet. I tried swung my arms frantically to regain my balance. But it was no use. I was going down. When I realized I couldn't right myself, I put my arms back to help break my fall. In hindsight, I should have thought that through. I shouldn't have processed the situation. I should have tried something else. Anything. But I shouldn't have put my arms back.
My already fragile arm collided with the wooden floor. I felt the pins and screws shift in my wrist as the weight and momentum of my body drove my arm into the floor.
"Ahhh! Shit!"
Janie was able to catch herself on the kitchen counter. She didn't hit the ground, but she watched idly as I landed at the foot of the stairs once again. She had no memory of the last time I found myself broken and lying on the floor here, but I did. It was an eery and surreal feeling. I rolled over onto my left side. I tried not to let the pain show. I tried to keep it together.
Janie knelt down next to me. Her head repeatedly tilted up and down as she kept careful watch on the front door and window. Whoever was firing the shotgun was looking for us. And we weren't sure who to expect. De Amantillo's control was far reaching.
"Are you OK? Your arm, it's broken isn't it?"
"My wrist, yeah."
I winced. I grasped my wrist with my left hand and tried to keep my hand still. I sat up and leaned against the door frame. She reached a hand out and placed it on my shoulder. She looked into my eyes.
"It's going to be alright. We're going to be fine. I promise you."
"Janie--"
"Just sit tight."
She crawled through the living room and turned between the coffee table and the sofa. She laid flat on her belly and lifted the sofa skirt with one hand. With the other, she reached and retrieved what I soon recognized as her shotgun. She crawled back to where I still sat in pain.
"OK. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to sit right here. You keep an eye on the back door and I've got the front. If you seen movement let me know and then get down. If I tell you to move, then move."
Her eyes were intense. Her voice didn't waver. If I had been on the outside, I would have been afraid of her. But I was here, with her, my sister, and I trusted her. I believed her. We were going to be fine.
I slid back into the doorway to my tiny office. I could still the door that led into the kitchen from the back porch, but I was more protected in the event some came blazing through the front door. I wasn't going to be able to move quickly. I needed to be able to take cover behind something. Janie didn't appear interested in staying out of sight. She sat comfortably against the door frame with the shotgun across her lap, her finger on the trigger. She looked anxious to eliminate whatever threat was out there, but she appeared calm at the same time. She looked surprisingly prepared for this type of situation. Her eyes shifted from the door to the window and back again. Over and over she changed her gaze. Every now and then she would look over at me. Once our eyes met. Blink. She reached her hand and pointed at the back door. Her demeanor changed. Her face was intense, almost fierce. This was serious, she wasn't playing any games. She wanted me to stay focused.
We sat there for what seemed like hours.
"I think there gone."
"They're not gone. They didn't get us yet. They're still out there."
"Maybe it was just a hunter close by--"
"No. If it was a hunter, the agents parked outside would have called or come in to reassure us. My guess? My guess is those shots took out the men that were supposed to be keeping us safe."
She paused for a moment and looked away before finishing her thought.
"...And we're next."
"But there were only three shots. There were four men."
Her hand never moved. Her finger rested, poised on the trigger. She continued her repetitive surveillance of the front door and window.
"Then our shooter is either very efficient, or he's one of those four men."
"But--"
"Sshhh. No more talking. We need to listen."
My mind just kept racing. The more my mind raced, the less my wrist hurt. I didn't want to clear my thoughts. Because I knew that once I did. The pain would return. The pain would get worse. But I had to listen. I had to watch. I didn't have a choice. I tightened my grip and tried to focus on the backdoor. I didn't hear anything. Just silence. There was no movement. Just stillness. Silence, stillness, and the throbbing of my right wrist.
/ / /
Her car sat only yards from the FBI vehicle. The first shot had caught her off guard. She didn't know where it had come from and she didn't know who the target was. She regretted coming. She regretted putting herself and her baby in danger like this. But she couldn't bring herself to turn back now. She could have put the car in reverse and left. But she didn't. She just couldn't do it. Not with Jake inside the house. She needed to get to him. She needed to be here. She needed to help. She tried to compose herself. She sat still. She turned off the car. She reached down and pulled the handle to let her seat recline. She wanted to stay out of view. She carefully reached into the seat next to her and grabbed her purse. She dug into it and found her phone. She dialed 911. She waited.
The second shot resounded through the woods. She grew more nervous.
When the dispatcher answered, Rebekah quietly described the situation. The call center was well aware of the potential for incidents at the Samuels residence. She was patched directly to Donny Kahle.
"Officer Kahle?"
"Chief Kahle for the time being."
She spoke slowly and softly.
"My name is Rebekah Dekolowitz. I'm sitting on the lane to Jacob Samuels house. I just heard gunshots."
"Gunshots? From inside the house?"
"No. I don't think so."
"Did you see anything?"
"No. I'm hiding in my car. There's an FBI car not too far in front of me."
"Listen to me. You need to get out of there. Get out now."
"I don't know what to do. I can't start the car. They'll hear it. They'll see me driving."
"Alright. Do you know what direction the shots came from?"
"Yeah they were towards the house. But I don't think inside."
"I need you to very carefully, and very quietly crawl out of your car and into the woods. Stay low. Make as little noise as possible."
"To where?"
"Move away from the house as far as you can until you feel you can stay hidden and stay safe. Find a ditch or some underbrush. Lie in it or hide and cover yourself with leaves as best you can. But make as little noise as possible. Got it?"
"I think. I'll do my best."
"I'm on my way. And Rebekah--"
"Yeah?"
"Keep your phone with you. Turn the ringer off."
"OK. I will. Hurry."
She closed her phone and took a deep breath. She couldn't just sit here. There was no use wasting time.
She pulled her key from the ignition. She never remembered being as clear headed as she was at that moment. Maternal instincts were already taking effect. She was never this calm in stressful situations. She was going to protect her baby no matter what it took.
She reached for the handle and gently pushed the door open. She waited a moment before making a move. She didn't hear any movement, just the wind in the trees. She took one final deep breath before learning forward and turning to one side. She hunched her body over as best she could with her belly. She put both hands on the packed dirt and inched her body forward. She wanted to run. But she knew she had to be calm and quiet. She stayed low to the ground and stopped behind each tree for a rest before moving on. By the time she reached the fourth tree she heard the familiar sound. A third shot had been fired. She paused. The sound was much closer this time. She looked down at her body to ensure she hadn't been hit. Somewhat amazed that she was still unharmed, she leaned her back against the tree and slid down the trunk to a sitting position. She waited for a moment. The woods were silent again. She leaned forward and rested on her hands and knees. Her mind was still clear.
After a moment she decided she must keep moving. She needed to get farther away. Jake was inside, that's where the shooter would head. Tears welled up in the corner of her eye as her mind shifted to the idea that she may never see him again. She may never again have the chance to tell him she loved him. She may never be able to introduce him to their child. She may never be able to hug him or kiss him again. She tried to regain her composure. She needed to act now for that baby.
She crawled slowly away from the house, back toward the gravel road. The fallen pine needles softened her footing and quieted her movements. She found what she thought was a safe place. She lay on her back in the ditch under a younger pine and pulled some fallen branches to cover her hiding place. The only thing she could do now, was wait.
She didn't have time to rest or get comfortable. She could still see her car from where she hid. She could see the door still hanging open. She could see the FBI's car parked a short distance in front of her on the lane. She watched as a man who appeared to be one of the agent's crept next to Rebekah's car and hid behind the open door, using it as a shield as he pointed his weapon in the direction of the house, unsure of his target's location.
A fourth shot tore through the silence. She watched the man collapse against the car and then drop to the ground. She saw the red stain grow on his chest. This shot was much louder than the others. She knew the shooter was close. She froze. She didn't move. She didn't make a sound. She didn't even take a breath.
She waited for a sign. Some movement, the scuffling of feet to identify the direction of the shooter. What she saw was the shadowy form of someone walking between the trees 10 yards away. The body just appeared from behind a tree and walked, with a shotgun at its side, in the direction of the dirt driveway. Rebekah sat still and waited a moment longer to finally take a breath. She was safe right now. The shooter moved away from her. She watched as the shooter, clad in black from head to toe reached her car. The shooter looked down at body on the ground. The agent's hand moved slightly, resting on the the shooter's foot. It was kicked off in an agitated motion.
Rebekah breathed more easily but carefully watched the dark form that held the shotgun at its side. She saw the head tilt up and toward the house.
"Janie!"
The adrenaline kicked in. My body caught up with my mind. It was hear. No more waiting. This guy was here. He wanted to kill Janie. He wanted to kill me. This was it. We had to fight back, or die.
I sped down the stairs and hit Janie full force at the doorway to the kitchen. She screamed.
"Goddammit Jake!"
We both stumbled backwards. I tried to stay on my feet. I tried swung my arms frantically to regain my balance. But it was no use. I was going down. When I realized I couldn't right myself, I put my arms back to help break my fall. In hindsight, I should have thought that through. I shouldn't have processed the situation. I should have tried something else. Anything. But I shouldn't have put my arms back.
My already fragile arm collided with the wooden floor. I felt the pins and screws shift in my wrist as the weight and momentum of my body drove my arm into the floor.
"Ahhh! Shit!"
Janie was able to catch herself on the kitchen counter. She didn't hit the ground, but she watched idly as I landed at the foot of the stairs once again. She had no memory of the last time I found myself broken and lying on the floor here, but I did. It was an eery and surreal feeling. I rolled over onto my left side. I tried not to let the pain show. I tried to keep it together.
Janie knelt down next to me. Her head repeatedly tilted up and down as she kept careful watch on the front door and window. Whoever was firing the shotgun was looking for us. And we weren't sure who to expect. De Amantillo's control was far reaching.
"Are you OK? Your arm, it's broken isn't it?"
"My wrist, yeah."
I winced. I grasped my wrist with my left hand and tried to keep my hand still. I sat up and leaned against the door frame. She reached a hand out and placed it on my shoulder. She looked into my eyes.
"It's going to be alright. We're going to be fine. I promise you."
"Janie--"
"Just sit tight."
She crawled through the living room and turned between the coffee table and the sofa. She laid flat on her belly and lifted the sofa skirt with one hand. With the other, she reached and retrieved what I soon recognized as her shotgun. She crawled back to where I still sat in pain.
"OK. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to sit right here. You keep an eye on the back door and I've got the front. If you seen movement let me know and then get down. If I tell you to move, then move."
Her eyes were intense. Her voice didn't waver. If I had been on the outside, I would have been afraid of her. But I was here, with her, my sister, and I trusted her. I believed her. We were going to be fine.
I slid back into the doorway to my tiny office. I could still the door that led into the kitchen from the back porch, but I was more protected in the event some came blazing through the front door. I wasn't going to be able to move quickly. I needed to be able to take cover behind something. Janie didn't appear interested in staying out of sight. She sat comfortably against the door frame with the shotgun across her lap, her finger on the trigger. She looked anxious to eliminate whatever threat was out there, but she appeared calm at the same time. She looked surprisingly prepared for this type of situation. Her eyes shifted from the door to the window and back again. Over and over she changed her gaze. Every now and then she would look over at me. Once our eyes met. Blink. She reached her hand and pointed at the back door. Her demeanor changed. Her face was intense, almost fierce. This was serious, she wasn't playing any games. She wanted me to stay focused.
We sat there for what seemed like hours.
"I think there gone."
"They're not gone. They didn't get us yet. They're still out there."
"Maybe it was just a hunter close by--"
"No. If it was a hunter, the agents parked outside would have called or come in to reassure us. My guess? My guess is those shots took out the men that were supposed to be keeping us safe."
She paused for a moment and looked away before finishing her thought.
"...And we're next."
"But there were only three shots. There were four men."
Her hand never moved. Her finger rested, poised on the trigger. She continued her repetitive surveillance of the front door and window.
"Then our shooter is either very efficient, or he's one of those four men."
"But--"
"Sshhh. No more talking. We need to listen."
My mind just kept racing. The more my mind raced, the less my wrist hurt. I didn't want to clear my thoughts. Because I knew that once I did. The pain would return. The pain would get worse. But I had to listen. I had to watch. I didn't have a choice. I tightened my grip and tried to focus on the backdoor. I didn't hear anything. Just silence. There was no movement. Just stillness. Silence, stillness, and the throbbing of my right wrist.
/ / /
Her car sat only yards from the FBI vehicle. The first shot had caught her off guard. She didn't know where it had come from and she didn't know who the target was. She regretted coming. She regretted putting herself and her baby in danger like this. But she couldn't bring herself to turn back now. She could have put the car in reverse and left. But she didn't. She just couldn't do it. Not with Jake inside the house. She needed to get to him. She needed to be here. She needed to help. She tried to compose herself. She sat still. She turned off the car. She reached down and pulled the handle to let her seat recline. She wanted to stay out of view. She carefully reached into the seat next to her and grabbed her purse. She dug into it and found her phone. She dialed 911. She waited.
The second shot resounded through the woods. She grew more nervous.
When the dispatcher answered, Rebekah quietly described the situation. The call center was well aware of the potential for incidents at the Samuels residence. She was patched directly to Donny Kahle.
"Officer Kahle?"
"Chief Kahle for the time being."
She spoke slowly and softly.
"My name is Rebekah Dekolowitz. I'm sitting on the lane to Jacob Samuels house. I just heard gunshots."
"Gunshots? From inside the house?"
"No. I don't think so."
"Did you see anything?"
"No. I'm hiding in my car. There's an FBI car not too far in front of me."
"Listen to me. You need to get out of there. Get out now."
"I don't know what to do. I can't start the car. They'll hear it. They'll see me driving."
"Alright. Do you know what direction the shots came from?"
"Yeah they were towards the house. But I don't think inside."
"I need you to very carefully, and very quietly crawl out of your car and into the woods. Stay low. Make as little noise as possible."
"To where?"
"Move away from the house as far as you can until you feel you can stay hidden and stay safe. Find a ditch or some underbrush. Lie in it or hide and cover yourself with leaves as best you can. But make as little noise as possible. Got it?"
"I think. I'll do my best."
"I'm on my way. And Rebekah--"
"Yeah?"
"Keep your phone with you. Turn the ringer off."
"OK. I will. Hurry."
She closed her phone and took a deep breath. She couldn't just sit here. There was no use wasting time.
She pulled her key from the ignition. She never remembered being as clear headed as she was at that moment. Maternal instincts were already taking effect. She was never this calm in stressful situations. She was going to protect her baby no matter what it took.
She reached for the handle and gently pushed the door open. She waited a moment before making a move. She didn't hear any movement, just the wind in the trees. She took one final deep breath before learning forward and turning to one side. She hunched her body over as best she could with her belly. She put both hands on the packed dirt and inched her body forward. She wanted to run. But she knew she had to be calm and quiet. She stayed low to the ground and stopped behind each tree for a rest before moving on. By the time she reached the fourth tree she heard the familiar sound. A third shot had been fired. She paused. The sound was much closer this time. She looked down at her body to ensure she hadn't been hit. Somewhat amazed that she was still unharmed, she leaned her back against the tree and slid down the trunk to a sitting position. She waited for a moment. The woods were silent again. She leaned forward and rested on her hands and knees. Her mind was still clear.
After a moment she decided she must keep moving. She needed to get farther away. Jake was inside, that's where the shooter would head. Tears welled up in the corner of her eye as her mind shifted to the idea that she may never see him again. She may never again have the chance to tell him she loved him. She may never be able to introduce him to their child. She may never be able to hug him or kiss him again. She tried to regain her composure. She needed to act now for that baby.
She crawled slowly away from the house, back toward the gravel road. The fallen pine needles softened her footing and quieted her movements. She found what she thought was a safe place. She lay on her back in the ditch under a younger pine and pulled some fallen branches to cover her hiding place. The only thing she could do now, was wait.
She didn't have time to rest or get comfortable. She could still see her car from where she hid. She could see the door still hanging open. She could see the FBI's car parked a short distance in front of her on the lane. She watched as a man who appeared to be one of the agent's crept next to Rebekah's car and hid behind the open door, using it as a shield as he pointed his weapon in the direction of the house, unsure of his target's location.
A fourth shot tore through the silence. She watched the man collapse against the car and then drop to the ground. She saw the red stain grow on his chest. This shot was much louder than the others. She knew the shooter was close. She froze. She didn't move. She didn't make a sound. She didn't even take a breath.
She waited for a sign. Some movement, the scuffling of feet to identify the direction of the shooter. What she saw was the shadowy form of someone walking between the trees 10 yards away. The body just appeared from behind a tree and walked, with a shotgun at its side, in the direction of the dirt driveway. Rebekah sat still and waited a moment longer to finally take a breath. She was safe right now. The shooter moved away from her. She watched as the shooter, clad in black from head to toe reached her car. The shooter looked down at body on the ground. The agent's hand moved slightly, resting on the the shooter's foot. It was kicked off in an agitated motion.
Rebekah breathed more easily but carefully watched the dark form that held the shotgun at its side. She saw the head tilt up and toward the house.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Dakota (Ch 32)
"I'm sorry."
I tried to swallow the words that just escaped my mouth. I took a step toward the kitchen.
"I shouldn't have said that."
She turned to face me. The expression on her face was somber, yet stern.
"No. It's OK Jake. I'm fine. I have to learn to deal with this in the real world. I can't live my life sheltered. I'm going to experience temptation. I'm going to want to drink. I know that."
"But I shouldn't be the one causing those temptations. I don't want to be that guy. It's too soon for you to have to deal with that kind of crap at home. Out there, fine, I get that. But you shouldn't have to deal with it here, Janie. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
I took a few more steps toward the kitchen as I spoke. She dropped the spatula on the counter. She reached her right hand to push the bangs off her forehead. She leaned forward, against the cabinets.
"Enough. It's fine. Let's just not talk about it anymore."
I'd made it worse by pushing the conversation further. What was I thinking? I knew what it was like. I had been there before.
"I'm sorry. How's breakfast coming?"
I tried to change the subject. I wanted to dispel the emotional outburst that I could see building in her.
"It's almost ready, Jake."
She was holding the spatula again in one hand and grasped the handle of the skillet in the other. She looked up at me with an innocent and forgiving sort of half smile. I bit my bottom lip and gave the same in response.
"And I'm sorry about Karen. That was unexpected, I'm sure."
"Yeah. I didn't expect that emotionality from her. I thought she had it together. Just proves that people only show you what they want you to see. Til now I thought there might be something there, but after that hint of drama...I don't really want to find out anymore."
"Mmhmm. Best to leave well enough alone."
I stopped by the island and slid a stool out from under the counter. She lifted the skillet and turned to slide two fresh pancakes onto my plate. I reached in the cabinet and pulled out the syrup. I covered the plate in the sweet confection. She took her seat next to me.
"I don't know where to go from here."
"Yes you do Jake."
"No I don't.
As she chewed, she tried to speak.
"Yah ya do."
I placed my fork across the edge of my plate. I wiped the corners of my mouth and just stared at her.
"Do you want to tell me then?"
She followed my cue and set her fork down. Syrup still stained her mouth.
"Jacob. Life is going to go on. Stop freaking out. That girl...Rebekah is having your baby. You are going to be there for her. You are going to be a father."
She picked up her fork again and stabbed at the soggy pancakes.
"And a damn good one."
She muttered between bites. I shifted positions. I tried to stretch out my legs, but I just fidgeted awkwardly.
"That's what I should do."
"That's what you will do."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is easy."
"It's not."
I shook my head. Blink. She continued to respond in a very calm and collected fashion. I was growing more and more agitated. I was nervous. I truly didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to expect anymore.
"Calm down, OK?"
"I just don't know how."
I dropped my fork on my plate. The steel clanged against the porcelain. I pushed back on the counter and rose to my feet.
"Jake--"
I climbed the stairs and retreated to my room. I should have stayed in bed. It was safe there. I shouldn't have answered the phone. I shouldn't have left the blankets. She didn't follow me. But she came to the foot of the stair and called after me. I could feel that she waited there a few minutes before giving up and returning to finish her pancakes. It didn't bother me. I needed to be alone. I needed time.
/ / /
"Well in the meantime, I need to be with him then."
"Miss, it'd be best if you just stayed here. It's safest for you and your baby."
"You listen to me Agent Dirksen. I don't give a damn what you think. And as for my baby, don't you dare tell me what's good for my baby. What's best? What's best is that I be with the man I love right now. What's best is that we are all together. Just do your job. Keep us safe."
"Miss I understand you want to be with him right now--"
"It's not up to you. Either do what you're paid to do, or get the hell out of my way, because I'm going to Wessington. Now."
He stepped to the side while she pulled her suitcase from the beneath the bed. She packed her belongings yet again. She was beginning to feel like a vagabond. Always packing, always moving, but never home. She hoped this time would be different. She wanted it to be different. She just wanted a family.
She pulled the zipper around the outside of the luggage. She placed it on the ground and pulled the handle up. She paused to rub her belly.
"It's alright buddy, we're just going to go for a little ride."
She grabbed the handle and kicked the base of the suitcase, wheeling towards the door of the room. She fought to hold open the heavy door while pulling her luggage out behind her. Agent Dirksen stood, unmoving in the room. She watched the door close and heard the latch click. She thought she heard him talking into the phone before she stepped off down the hall.
She reached the desk where she spoke with the portly bald man who had been there before. She swiped her card and waited nervously for it to be approved. She was almost out of money. She knew she was near her limit on the card. And she knew the others were already maxed. He slid the slip to her and she quickly signed. She was happy to see the sun as she exited the lobby. She did her best to get the suitcase in the trunk of her rental. She carefully took her place behind the wheel, turned the key and pressed the gas.
The drive seemed shorter this time. She was becoming accustomed to it. For the first time, she found herself realizing how different Dakota was. She missed Chicago, but she liked it here too. It was refreshing to be away from the city. Time ticked by and the miles seemed to disappear. She recognized the familiar change from pavement to gravel. Then from gravel to dirt. She saw the house in the distance. She saw the FBI car blocking the lane. She tapped the brake and the car rolled to a stop.
/ / /
I pulled the blankets up around my neck. The cool sheets felt good against my skin. The ticking of the clock comforted me. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted peace. I didn't want to think about any of it. I need to be away from it all. I had to escape. It's the only thing I knew to do. I was too stressed to write. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't formulate a coherent thought. Sleep was the only option.
I laid on my stomach with my face pushed into the down pillow. I didn't move. I breathed deeply. My eyes closed. I felt myself slipping away. My rest didn't last.
It was unmistakable. I sat up and threw back the covers.
"Janie!"
The noise resounded again. A shotgun.
"Janie!"
I tried to swallow the words that just escaped my mouth. I took a step toward the kitchen.
"I shouldn't have said that."
She turned to face me. The expression on her face was somber, yet stern.
"No. It's OK Jake. I'm fine. I have to learn to deal with this in the real world. I can't live my life sheltered. I'm going to experience temptation. I'm going to want to drink. I know that."
"But I shouldn't be the one causing those temptations. I don't want to be that guy. It's too soon for you to have to deal with that kind of crap at home. Out there, fine, I get that. But you shouldn't have to deal with it here, Janie. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
I took a few more steps toward the kitchen as I spoke. She dropped the spatula on the counter. She reached her right hand to push the bangs off her forehead. She leaned forward, against the cabinets.
"Enough. It's fine. Let's just not talk about it anymore."
I'd made it worse by pushing the conversation further. What was I thinking? I knew what it was like. I had been there before.
"I'm sorry. How's breakfast coming?"
I tried to change the subject. I wanted to dispel the emotional outburst that I could see building in her.
"It's almost ready, Jake."
She was holding the spatula again in one hand and grasped the handle of the skillet in the other. She looked up at me with an innocent and forgiving sort of half smile. I bit my bottom lip and gave the same in response.
"And I'm sorry about Karen. That was unexpected, I'm sure."
"Yeah. I didn't expect that emotionality from her. I thought she had it together. Just proves that people only show you what they want you to see. Til now I thought there might be something there, but after that hint of drama...I don't really want to find out anymore."
"Mmhmm. Best to leave well enough alone."
I stopped by the island and slid a stool out from under the counter. She lifted the skillet and turned to slide two fresh pancakes onto my plate. I reached in the cabinet and pulled out the syrup. I covered the plate in the sweet confection. She took her seat next to me.
"I don't know where to go from here."
"Yes you do Jake."
"No I don't.
As she chewed, she tried to speak.
"Yah ya do."
I placed my fork across the edge of my plate. I wiped the corners of my mouth and just stared at her.
"Do you want to tell me then?"
She followed my cue and set her fork down. Syrup still stained her mouth.
"Jacob. Life is going to go on. Stop freaking out. That girl...Rebekah is having your baby. You are going to be there for her. You are going to be a father."
She picked up her fork again and stabbed at the soggy pancakes.
"And a damn good one."
She muttered between bites. I shifted positions. I tried to stretch out my legs, but I just fidgeted awkwardly.
"That's what I should do."
"That's what you will do."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is easy."
"It's not."
I shook my head. Blink. She continued to respond in a very calm and collected fashion. I was growing more and more agitated. I was nervous. I truly didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to expect anymore.
"Calm down, OK?"
"I just don't know how."
I dropped my fork on my plate. The steel clanged against the porcelain. I pushed back on the counter and rose to my feet.
"Jake--"
I climbed the stairs and retreated to my room. I should have stayed in bed. It was safe there. I shouldn't have answered the phone. I shouldn't have left the blankets. She didn't follow me. But she came to the foot of the stair and called after me. I could feel that she waited there a few minutes before giving up and returning to finish her pancakes. It didn't bother me. I needed to be alone. I needed time.
/ / /
"Well in the meantime, I need to be with him then."
"Miss, it'd be best if you just stayed here. It's safest for you and your baby."
"You listen to me Agent Dirksen. I don't give a damn what you think. And as for my baby, don't you dare tell me what's good for my baby. What's best? What's best is that I be with the man I love right now. What's best is that we are all together. Just do your job. Keep us safe."
"Miss I understand you want to be with him right now--"
"It's not up to you. Either do what you're paid to do, or get the hell out of my way, because I'm going to Wessington. Now."
He stepped to the side while she pulled her suitcase from the beneath the bed. She packed her belongings yet again. She was beginning to feel like a vagabond. Always packing, always moving, but never home. She hoped this time would be different. She wanted it to be different. She just wanted a family.
She pulled the zipper around the outside of the luggage. She placed it on the ground and pulled the handle up. She paused to rub her belly.
"It's alright buddy, we're just going to go for a little ride."
She grabbed the handle and kicked the base of the suitcase, wheeling towards the door of the room. She fought to hold open the heavy door while pulling her luggage out behind her. Agent Dirksen stood, unmoving in the room. She watched the door close and heard the latch click. She thought she heard him talking into the phone before she stepped off down the hall.
She reached the desk where she spoke with the portly bald man who had been there before. She swiped her card and waited nervously for it to be approved. She was almost out of money. She knew she was near her limit on the card. And she knew the others were already maxed. He slid the slip to her and she quickly signed. She was happy to see the sun as she exited the lobby. She did her best to get the suitcase in the trunk of her rental. She carefully took her place behind the wheel, turned the key and pressed the gas.
The drive seemed shorter this time. She was becoming accustomed to it. For the first time, she found herself realizing how different Dakota was. She missed Chicago, but she liked it here too. It was refreshing to be away from the city. Time ticked by and the miles seemed to disappear. She recognized the familiar change from pavement to gravel. Then from gravel to dirt. She saw the house in the distance. She saw the FBI car blocking the lane. She tapped the brake and the car rolled to a stop.
/ / /
I pulled the blankets up around my neck. The cool sheets felt good against my skin. The ticking of the clock comforted me. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted peace. I didn't want to think about any of it. I need to be away from it all. I had to escape. It's the only thing I knew to do. I was too stressed to write. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't formulate a coherent thought. Sleep was the only option.
I laid on my stomach with my face pushed into the down pillow. I didn't move. I breathed deeply. My eyes closed. I felt myself slipping away. My rest didn't last.
It was unmistakable. I sat up and threw back the covers.
"Janie!"
The noise resounded again. A shotgun.
"Janie!"
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Dakota (Ch 31)
When she picked up the newspaper and saw the headline in bold type, her hands tightened their grip. Her mouth went dry, and she felt perspiration form on her brow. She knew what this meant. She feared for him. She shoved the paper in her purse, picked up her keys and headed out the door. She wasn't going to make it in to work today. She needed to see him. She needed to make sure he was OK.
She drove the four miles to his isolated home and found herself being stopped on the lane by men with badges. She explained who she was. She explained that she needed to see him. But the men didn't budge. No one was allowed into the house. No one was allowed to see him.
She pushed back. She asked them to talk to him. They only shook their heads in rejection. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. It rang. She waited.
/ / /
"Who the hell are you?"
"Miss I'm Agent Dirksen with the FBI."
"What do you want? Is this about Jake's brother?"
"Yes. But it's also about Jake. And you."
"Is Jake alright?"
Both her hands caressed the underside of her belly.
"Jake is fine for the time being. But that's why I'm here. I think we should sit down for this."
She pulled the door open farther and gestured him in. He took a seat in the armchair next to the window and she rested on the foot of the king size bed.
"Miss, we have reason to believe that the person that killed Jason Samuels was actually targeting Janie. We also believe that the killer lives abroad and was recently made aware that they killed the wrong person. Right now, we are keeping an eye on the Samuels house because we fear the killer will return to finish what he started."
"I should be with Jake..."
She began to rise from her seat, but Agent Dirksen quickly stopped her. He put both hands on hers and helped her back to a sitting position on the bed.
"That's not a good idea. I understand that you are concerned for Mr. Samuels, but we need you to stay here. We don't want you to put yourself or your baby in danger. We're keeping him safe. But you need to sit tight here."
"Then what?"
"Well, my parnter and I are assigned to keep an eye on you here, just in case."
"And that's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"So I'm just supposed to wait until this guy shows up?"
"The Bureau is doing everything in its power to locate the suspect and capture him before he reaches the Samuels. Unfortunately at this point we haven't been able to pinpoint his current location. But we do know he is on the move."
/ / /
I heard the phone ring again. I still didn't want to leave the comfort of my bed. But I drug myself back to the dresser anyway.
"Hello?"
The hint of smile began as the corner of my lip turned upwards.
"I'm glad you called...You're where?"
"Put them on."
"Hello? Yeah this is Jacob Samuels. Please let Miss Jameson through. I want to see her."
"Yes, I understand the situation, but either let her come through or I will come to her."
"Thank you, sir."
I placed the phone back on the dresser. I stood and stared into the mirror. I still wore only my underwear. I hurried to the bathroom to grab my robe. I looped the belt and pulled it tight. I tried to tame my hair again. I wiped the corners of my eyes and mouth. That would have to do for now. Back at the dresser, I unwrapped a piece of gum and placed it in my mouth. I hoped it would mask my morning breath. I picked up my phone and headed for the stairs.
At the foot of stairs, I glanced into the kitchen. Janie was at the stove working on the pancakes.
"You might want to put a few extra in the pan."
She lifted her head but didn't lose focus on the batter in the skillet.
"Why's that, you that hungry?"
"No, but my friend Karen's here."
I heard the knock at the door.
"Well go let her in."
I smiled at my little sister and turned toward the door. Karen was agitated. She was nervous.
"What's wrong?"
"How can you even ask me that? You know damn well what's wrong!"
"I--"
"I'm worried sick. I saw the paper this morning Jake."
"The paper?"
"Yeah, don't try to pretend that you don't know."
"Excuse me, Karen? Right?"
Janie had appeared between the kitchen and the living room.
"Yes."
"Hi, I'm Janie, Jake's sister."
She reached her hand out to Karen, who just looked at it questioningly.
"Well anyway, I'm making breakfast so I hope you like bacon and pancakes."
Karen just stared back.
"Um--"
"I'll take that as a yes. Oh, and by the way, calm yourself before I throw your ass out."
She said it with a smile and never lost a beat. As quick as she had appeared, she disappeared back into the kitchen.
"What the hell, Jake!"
"I warned you once!"
Came the call from the kitchen.
"Karen why don't you have a seat."
I pointed at the sofa behind her. She cautiously took a seat, half on, half off. I walked around the coffee table and sat comfortably on the sofa's arm.
"Why don't you start over and tell me what this about? Are you worried? I don't understand what's changed?"
"You don't understand?"
She started out loudly then caught herself and tempered her voice.
"How can you not know Jake?"
"Is this about Sheriff Holt?"
"That's only the half of it."
"Well that's the only half I know, so you are going to have to fill me in."
"You really don't know? You haven't seen it?"
"Karen, I just crawled out of bed five minutes ago. It's been a rough night and morning. I can assure you I have no idea what you're getting at."
She shifted in her seat. She was frustrated with him. She still didn't believe that he didn't know. The distance from one end of the sofa to the other seemed much greater.
"The entire front page of The Telegraph was basically about your case. Holt's murder was obviously the feature. But the other article is what caught my eye."
"And--"
"And that article..."
She reached into her purse and pulled out the crumpled paper. She continued.
"was titled, 'Is Baby Samuels Safe?'"
I reached and pulled the paper from her hand. I didn't understand how some things made it to print. My mind drifted--Rebekah.
"Karen, I don't know how this got in the paper. I don't. I haven't spoken with anyone except Donny Kahle since yesterday."
"Jake--"
"Wait. I like you Karen I do. But I'm not sure I understand why you are upset? You were already aware that Rebekah was carrying my child. We haven't even really started dating yet."
"I don't want to see this stuff in the news Jake. I want this to work between us."
"Karen. Let's just cool off. My life is a mess right now. There is too much going on. I can't take another curve being thrown at me right now. It's too much. At some point I'm just going to crack, and honestly I know that point is very close."
"I'm sorry, it's just, I don't know. I felt we had a connection ever since the hospital."
"And we did. But a lot has happened since then. Janie's home, I'm going to be a father, Holt's dead, we know who the murderer is. I need to focus. I need to try and keep it together."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I can't deal with this right now. I need a couple weeks, months probably until my life is pulled back together. And if that baby is definitely mine, then I need to try to make that work."
Her head dropped. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on her bag.
"I just. I really--"
"Stop. Don't say anything else. I'm sorry Karen. It's just not the right time. In other circumstances, maybe. But not now. I'm sorry."
I leaned forward and put my feet on the ground. I moved to the door and opened it.
"I think you better go."
She didn't answer. She just nodded and stood. She took tiny steps down the walk.
"Goodbye Karen."
I pushed the door closed and pressed my head against it. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what else to expect. What else was going to be thrown at me? I pounded my fist against the door, just once. I rolled my head to the right and let it lead my body to spin around. I leaned my back against the door.
"Please tell me you're serving shots with breakfast."
I immediately regretted that statement.
She drove the four miles to his isolated home and found herself being stopped on the lane by men with badges. She explained who she was. She explained that she needed to see him. But the men didn't budge. No one was allowed into the house. No one was allowed to see him.
She pushed back. She asked them to talk to him. They only shook their heads in rejection. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. It rang. She waited.
/ / /
"Who the hell are you?"
"Miss I'm Agent Dirksen with the FBI."
"What do you want? Is this about Jake's brother?"
"Yes. But it's also about Jake. And you."
"Is Jake alright?"
Both her hands caressed the underside of her belly.
"Jake is fine for the time being. But that's why I'm here. I think we should sit down for this."
She pulled the door open farther and gestured him in. He took a seat in the armchair next to the window and she rested on the foot of the king size bed.
"Miss, we have reason to believe that the person that killed Jason Samuels was actually targeting Janie. We also believe that the killer lives abroad and was recently made aware that they killed the wrong person. Right now, we are keeping an eye on the Samuels house because we fear the killer will return to finish what he started."
"I should be with Jake..."
She began to rise from her seat, but Agent Dirksen quickly stopped her. He put both hands on hers and helped her back to a sitting position on the bed.
"That's not a good idea. I understand that you are concerned for Mr. Samuels, but we need you to stay here. We don't want you to put yourself or your baby in danger. We're keeping him safe. But you need to sit tight here."
"Then what?"
"Well, my parnter and I are assigned to keep an eye on you here, just in case."
"And that's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"So I'm just supposed to wait until this guy shows up?"
"The Bureau is doing everything in its power to locate the suspect and capture him before he reaches the Samuels. Unfortunately at this point we haven't been able to pinpoint his current location. But we do know he is on the move."
/ / /
I heard the phone ring again. I still didn't want to leave the comfort of my bed. But I drug myself back to the dresser anyway.
"Hello?"
The hint of smile began as the corner of my lip turned upwards.
"I'm glad you called...You're where?"
"Put them on."
"Hello? Yeah this is Jacob Samuels. Please let Miss Jameson through. I want to see her."
"Yes, I understand the situation, but either let her come through or I will come to her."
"Thank you, sir."
I placed the phone back on the dresser. I stood and stared into the mirror. I still wore only my underwear. I hurried to the bathroom to grab my robe. I looped the belt and pulled it tight. I tried to tame my hair again. I wiped the corners of my eyes and mouth. That would have to do for now. Back at the dresser, I unwrapped a piece of gum and placed it in my mouth. I hoped it would mask my morning breath. I picked up my phone and headed for the stairs.
At the foot of stairs, I glanced into the kitchen. Janie was at the stove working on the pancakes.
"You might want to put a few extra in the pan."
She lifted her head but didn't lose focus on the batter in the skillet.
"Why's that, you that hungry?"
"No, but my friend Karen's here."
I heard the knock at the door.
"Well go let her in."
I smiled at my little sister and turned toward the door. Karen was agitated. She was nervous.
"What's wrong?"
"How can you even ask me that? You know damn well what's wrong!"
"I--"
"I'm worried sick. I saw the paper this morning Jake."
"The paper?"
"Yeah, don't try to pretend that you don't know."
"Excuse me, Karen? Right?"
Janie had appeared between the kitchen and the living room.
"Yes."
"Hi, I'm Janie, Jake's sister."
She reached her hand out to Karen, who just looked at it questioningly.
"Well anyway, I'm making breakfast so I hope you like bacon and pancakes."
Karen just stared back.
"Um--"
"I'll take that as a yes. Oh, and by the way, calm yourself before I throw your ass out."
She said it with a smile and never lost a beat. As quick as she had appeared, she disappeared back into the kitchen.
"What the hell, Jake!"
"I warned you once!"
Came the call from the kitchen.
"Karen why don't you have a seat."
I pointed at the sofa behind her. She cautiously took a seat, half on, half off. I walked around the coffee table and sat comfortably on the sofa's arm.
"Why don't you start over and tell me what this about? Are you worried? I don't understand what's changed?"
"You don't understand?"
She started out loudly then caught herself and tempered her voice.
"How can you not know Jake?"
"Is this about Sheriff Holt?"
"That's only the half of it."
"Well that's the only half I know, so you are going to have to fill me in."
"You really don't know? You haven't seen it?"
"Karen, I just crawled out of bed five minutes ago. It's been a rough night and morning. I can assure you I have no idea what you're getting at."
She shifted in her seat. She was frustrated with him. She still didn't believe that he didn't know. The distance from one end of the sofa to the other seemed much greater.
"The entire front page of The Telegraph was basically about your case. Holt's murder was obviously the feature. But the other article is what caught my eye."
"And--"
"And that article..."
She reached into her purse and pulled out the crumpled paper. She continued.
"was titled, 'Is Baby Samuels Safe?'"
I reached and pulled the paper from her hand. I didn't understand how some things made it to print. My mind drifted--Rebekah.
"Karen, I don't know how this got in the paper. I don't. I haven't spoken with anyone except Donny Kahle since yesterday."
"Jake--"
"Wait. I like you Karen I do. But I'm not sure I understand why you are upset? You were already aware that Rebekah was carrying my child. We haven't even really started dating yet."
"I don't want to see this stuff in the news Jake. I want this to work between us."
"Karen. Let's just cool off. My life is a mess right now. There is too much going on. I can't take another curve being thrown at me right now. It's too much. At some point I'm just going to crack, and honestly I know that point is very close."
"I'm sorry, it's just, I don't know. I felt we had a connection ever since the hospital."
"And we did. But a lot has happened since then. Janie's home, I'm going to be a father, Holt's dead, we know who the murderer is. I need to focus. I need to try and keep it together."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I can't deal with this right now. I need a couple weeks, months probably until my life is pulled back together. And if that baby is definitely mine, then I need to try to make that work."
Her head dropped. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on her bag.
"I just. I really--"
"Stop. Don't say anything else. I'm sorry Karen. It's just not the right time. In other circumstances, maybe. But not now. I'm sorry."
I leaned forward and put my feet on the ground. I moved to the door and opened it.
"I think you better go."
She didn't answer. She just nodded and stood. She took tiny steps down the walk.
"Goodbye Karen."
I pushed the door closed and pressed my head against it. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what else to expect. What else was going to be thrown at me? I pounded my fist against the door, just once. I rolled my head to the right and let it lead my body to spin around. I leaned my back against the door.
"Please tell me you're serving shots with breakfast."
I immediately regretted that statement.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Dakota (Ch 30)
She descended the stairs and turned the corner into the kitchen. She didn't like that the house was under surveillance from the FBI. It made her nervous. She was prepared for whatever came her way. She wasn't afraid. Perhaps she had feared Pablo de Amantillo before, but not now, not here. This was her home. It may have taken a while for her to realize that. But she knew it now. And she wasn't about to lose everything she had gained. She rounded the island and headed back towards the front door. She crossed the living room and knelt on the sofa, facing the window. She gently lifted her fingers to the dusty slats that kept out the sun. She bent them down and light filtered in. She lowered her head and peered through the crack. She saw the car parked just off the front path, two bodies inside. She looked further up the lane and saw the other detail. She felt all eight eyes on her. They burned through the gap in the blinds. She didn't like being watched. It didn't matter who was doing the watching. It made her nervous, uncomfortable.
She slid her finger back and let the blind snap into position, creating a small cloud of dust. She raised her hand and wiped her nose. She tucked her hair behind her left ear and rubbed her own neck. Her hand trailed down and met her collarbone. Her tiny fingers traced the bone to the center of her chest. There her fingers rested. They gently rubbed the tiny golden pendant that hung from a simple delicate gold chain. She had worn it so long, it had become a part of her. She had forgotten it was even there. It just always was. She paused for a moment to think about how long it had been. She couldn't believe she had held onto it all these years. It seemed like something she should have-or at least would have thrown away long ago. Her fingers still lingered on the pendant that hung on the chain.
She pulled her legs out from beneath her and rested against the arm of the sofa. She tilted her head back. She caressed that tiny heart. Blink. She let her eyes go closed. She was ten again. It was the last time she remembered everyone together in the house. She remembered the smells. Apple pie was in the oven. She remembered the fire crackling in the hearth. She remembered begging her dad to roast marshmallows over the flames. He obliged, reluctantly. It had been a cold autumn. Snow came early. She hated the cold. She lived in a red cardigan from October to March. She remembered that night. Jason and Jake had come home. They had made it just before the storm really got bad. The house was locked up tight. The wind whipped the snow between the bare trees. It whistled as it weaved its way through the woods. But the Samuels were all safe and warm at home.
She remembered the night like it was only the day before. The images were vivid. The colors, the textures, the tastes, the smells. They were all right there. She sat next to her father, between the fire and the tree. Mom sat between her two sons on the sofa. She was so proud that they were both successful in the big city. She beamed with joy to have them back at home with her. Jason sat on her right, his hand in her lap. Jake sat on the left, his hand in her lap. Everyone was happy.
That was the last moment she could remember everyone being happy together. That Christmas came and went. Jake and Jason went back to Chicago. The snow melted. The moment faded. Happiness faded.
She opened her eyes. Her fingers remained on the pendant. Blink.
She reentered the memory. She remembered sitting in the leather chair, legs across one arm. Her fingers still sticky with marshmallow remnants. Mom still wore her gingham apron. She remembered her mother nodding with an approving smile. Her father took the cue and stepped next to the tree. He reached under the low hanging branches of the Spruce and grasped a tiny red box. The silver bow atop it had started to come loose. He tightened it with a careful motion and placed it in his daughter's lap. He grasped her hands and wiped them on the sides of his shirt.
"Open it."
She remembered staring at it, half afraid. Four happy, staring faces looked on. She liked waiting until Christmas morning for her presents. She took a moment before-
"Go on...open it."
Her mother urged.
She sat forward and placed her feet on the ground. She tugged at the loose end of the bow with two fingers and the ribbon unwound. She remembered carefully placing it over her right knee. She remembered seeing the corner of the yellowed tape against the shiny red paper. She picked at it with her fingernail, before ripping it off. The tiny white wooden box inside was not fancy. But she immediately knew her father had made it. On the top, a 'J' was carved. She pushed the lid up with her thumb. Within the box, on a small white satin pillow, rested the necklace she now wore.
"Wait. There's more."
Her father had said. She remembered the excitement in his voice. He reached forward and his coarse fingers fumbled with the fragile piece of jewelry. It took a minute, but he finally got it.
"Here."
He placed it back in his only daughter's hands. She peered down at it. There, in the center of the locket, was her family.
Blink.
Her left hand was frozen on the locket. But her right reached to wipe the tears from her eyes. Ten years had passed. And only now did she remember that Christmas. There were happy times. This was home. She had let it slip away. She had spent years running from what she didn't even realize she had. It took coming back to see to that. A smile crept across her face.
"It's funny where a journey takes you."
She spoke softly to herself. She waited a minute longer before letting her hand release the pendant. She rose from the sofa and stepped back toward the kitchen. She called up the stairs.
"Jake, you still up for pancakes?"
She thought she heard the faint mutter of a response. She reached over the island and pulled the skillet off the hook. She placed it on the stove and gathered the ingredients. She went about the preparations and was stirring the batter when the phone rang. She held the bowl in one arm and reached for the receiver. She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.
"Hello."
She didn't think. She had just reacted. She didn't recognize the voice on the other end. But she felt the voice knew her. She tried to think. She shouldn't have answered.
"Janie? Um, no, um Janie hasn't been released from rehab yet."
She lied. She set the bowl on the counter and wiped the sweat from her palm on the side of her jeans.
"Me? Sorry, this is Rebekah. Can I take a message for Janie? We hope she'll be home next week."
She lied again.
"No message? Can I ask who's calling?"
The voice on the other end went silent. Her finger mashed down the button and she dropped the phone on the counter. She pushed her bangs back with her right hand and took a deep breath. She knew she needed to tell the men in the cars parked outside. They needed to know what she had done. She heard a knock at the door. They already knew.
She slowly moved to the door. She peered through the peephole and saw the badge held up next to the man in the gray suit. She turned the handle and ushered him in.
"Sir."
"Ma'am."
She pushed the door closed behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. My mind had been somewhere else."
"You can't go and do that to us. We weren't prepared. I don't think we can wait outside anymore. We need to have someone in here with you."
"No. My brother and I are fine. We can't be prisoners here. We have no idea when they're coming back. I can't have you here indefinitely. You're just fine where you are."
"I understand your frustrations, but we are trying to protect you. But you have to work with us. You can't just answer every phone call, and especially not right now. They're having a little trouble with the tap out here. We can't trace anything right now. OK?"
"OK. I'm sorry, I am. I just wasn't thinking."
"Well, who was it? What did they want?"
"Just someone looking for me."
"Goddammit."
"It's fine. It is. After I answered I realized I shouldn't have-so I lied."
"You lied?"
"Yeah. I just said that she was still in rehab."
"You didn't tell them who you were?"
"No. I said my name was Rebekah...that's Jake's ex."
"I know who Rebekah is. Kahle briefed me. We've got someone on her too, just in case."
"So now what?"
"What do you mean, now what?"
"Well..."
"Well, did you recognize the voice."
"No, I don't think so."
"Then we just wait."
She slid her finger back and let the blind snap into position, creating a small cloud of dust. She raised her hand and wiped her nose. She tucked her hair behind her left ear and rubbed her own neck. Her hand trailed down and met her collarbone. Her tiny fingers traced the bone to the center of her chest. There her fingers rested. They gently rubbed the tiny golden pendant that hung from a simple delicate gold chain. She had worn it so long, it had become a part of her. She had forgotten it was even there. It just always was. She paused for a moment to think about how long it had been. She couldn't believe she had held onto it all these years. It seemed like something she should have-or at least would have thrown away long ago. Her fingers still lingered on the pendant that hung on the chain.
She pulled her legs out from beneath her and rested against the arm of the sofa. She tilted her head back. She caressed that tiny heart. Blink. She let her eyes go closed. She was ten again. It was the last time she remembered everyone together in the house. She remembered the smells. Apple pie was in the oven. She remembered the fire crackling in the hearth. She remembered begging her dad to roast marshmallows over the flames. He obliged, reluctantly. It had been a cold autumn. Snow came early. She hated the cold. She lived in a red cardigan from October to March. She remembered that night. Jason and Jake had come home. They had made it just before the storm really got bad. The house was locked up tight. The wind whipped the snow between the bare trees. It whistled as it weaved its way through the woods. But the Samuels were all safe and warm at home.
She remembered the night like it was only the day before. The images were vivid. The colors, the textures, the tastes, the smells. They were all right there. She sat next to her father, between the fire and the tree. Mom sat between her two sons on the sofa. She was so proud that they were both successful in the big city. She beamed with joy to have them back at home with her. Jason sat on her right, his hand in her lap. Jake sat on the left, his hand in her lap. Everyone was happy.
That was the last moment she could remember everyone being happy together. That Christmas came and went. Jake and Jason went back to Chicago. The snow melted. The moment faded. Happiness faded.
She opened her eyes. Her fingers remained on the pendant. Blink.
She reentered the memory. She remembered sitting in the leather chair, legs across one arm. Her fingers still sticky with marshmallow remnants. Mom still wore her gingham apron. She remembered her mother nodding with an approving smile. Her father took the cue and stepped next to the tree. He reached under the low hanging branches of the Spruce and grasped a tiny red box. The silver bow atop it had started to come loose. He tightened it with a careful motion and placed it in his daughter's lap. He grasped her hands and wiped them on the sides of his shirt.
"Open it."
She remembered staring at it, half afraid. Four happy, staring faces looked on. She liked waiting until Christmas morning for her presents. She took a moment before-
"Go on...open it."
Her mother urged.
She sat forward and placed her feet on the ground. She tugged at the loose end of the bow with two fingers and the ribbon unwound. She remembered carefully placing it over her right knee. She remembered seeing the corner of the yellowed tape against the shiny red paper. She picked at it with her fingernail, before ripping it off. The tiny white wooden box inside was not fancy. But she immediately knew her father had made it. On the top, a 'J' was carved. She pushed the lid up with her thumb. Within the box, on a small white satin pillow, rested the necklace she now wore.
"Wait. There's more."
Her father had said. She remembered the excitement in his voice. He reached forward and his coarse fingers fumbled with the fragile piece of jewelry. It took a minute, but he finally got it.
"Here."
He placed it back in his only daughter's hands. She peered down at it. There, in the center of the locket, was her family.
Blink.
Her left hand was frozen on the locket. But her right reached to wipe the tears from her eyes. Ten years had passed. And only now did she remember that Christmas. There were happy times. This was home. She had let it slip away. She had spent years running from what she didn't even realize she had. It took coming back to see to that. A smile crept across her face.
"It's funny where a journey takes you."
She spoke softly to herself. She waited a minute longer before letting her hand release the pendant. She rose from the sofa and stepped back toward the kitchen. She called up the stairs.
"Jake, you still up for pancakes?"
She thought she heard the faint mutter of a response. She reached over the island and pulled the skillet off the hook. She placed it on the stove and gathered the ingredients. She went about the preparations and was stirring the batter when the phone rang. She held the bowl in one arm and reached for the receiver. She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.
"Hello."
She didn't think. She had just reacted. She didn't recognize the voice on the other end. But she felt the voice knew her. She tried to think. She shouldn't have answered.
"Janie? Um, no, um Janie hasn't been released from rehab yet."
She lied. She set the bowl on the counter and wiped the sweat from her palm on the side of her jeans.
"Me? Sorry, this is Rebekah. Can I take a message for Janie? We hope she'll be home next week."
She lied again.
"No message? Can I ask who's calling?"
The voice on the other end went silent. Her finger mashed down the button and she dropped the phone on the counter. She pushed her bangs back with her right hand and took a deep breath. She knew she needed to tell the men in the cars parked outside. They needed to know what she had done. She heard a knock at the door. They already knew.
She slowly moved to the door. She peered through the peephole and saw the badge held up next to the man in the gray suit. She turned the handle and ushered him in.
"Sir."
"Ma'am."
She pushed the door closed behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. My mind had been somewhere else."
"You can't go and do that to us. We weren't prepared. I don't think we can wait outside anymore. We need to have someone in here with you."
"No. My brother and I are fine. We can't be prisoners here. We have no idea when they're coming back. I can't have you here indefinitely. You're just fine where you are."
"I understand your frustrations, but we are trying to protect you. But you have to work with us. You can't just answer every phone call, and especially not right now. They're having a little trouble with the tap out here. We can't trace anything right now. OK?"
"OK. I'm sorry, I am. I just wasn't thinking."
"Well, who was it? What did they want?"
"Just someone looking for me."
"Goddammit."
"It's fine. It is. After I answered I realized I shouldn't have-so I lied."
"You lied?"
"Yeah. I just said that she was still in rehab."
"You didn't tell them who you were?"
"No. I said my name was Rebekah...that's Jake's ex."
"I know who Rebekah is. Kahle briefed me. We've got someone on her too, just in case."
"So now what?"
"What do you mean, now what?"
"Well..."
"Well, did you recognize the voice."
"No, I don't think so."
"Then we just wait."
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