Welcome Reluctant Stranger

by Evelyn Journey

  Tomorrow, that sultry, dark-haired, dusky-skinned beauty would come to tell them how she found Justin and, maybe, why he was beaten up. Leilani Torres intrigued Elise. She could not be sure of her origin. Maybe, Asian? But Leilani’s eyes suggested Latin American, or possibly, Caribbean origin. Or a mix of those.

  But more than that, something about Leilani—a certain look on her face, or her guarded manner—gave Elise the sense that Leilani had secrets, or a hidden life, or a soul that hadn’t yet found what it was looking for. Secrets or quest, to Elise, Leilani seemed like a solitary soul. A fascinating solitary soul.

  *****

  Leilani arrived at the Thorpe residence a few minutes before four. She smoothed the skirt of her black dress and pulled her shawl down her arms before she rang the doorbell. She had dressed a little more formally than usual.

  From the Thorpe residence, she was going directly to dinner with a man her mother introduced her to, the Saturday before. They had already met once for coffee. He was nice enough, but a little dull and too satisfied with himself.

  To her trained eyes and ears, people like him seldom saw a need to change. That meant he would be hard to live with. She was going out with him, from a sense of obligation to her mother, and so she could convince her, as well as herself, that she gave this man a chance.

  A boy of about four opened the door. A few paces behind him, Greg Thorpe approached, smiling.

  The little boy, with his father’s blue-grey eyes and his mother’s generous lower lip, stared long at her.

  His father prompted, “What do you say to the lady, Goyo?”

  “Hello, Miss. Please come in,” Goyo said as he opened the door wider and stepped back to let her in.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Torres. Come in.” Greg Thorpe ruffled his son’s hair affectionately as he led her to a seating area.” My wife will join us shortly.”

  He added with a hint of an amused smile, “She insisted on baking cookies. It’s not one of her strong suits, but I give her an “A” for trying. Please take a seat; make yourself comfortable.”

  As Leilani sat on an armchair, her gaze swept discreetly around the room. Certainly different from her mother’s small living room, cluttered with knickknacks from their old country and fragrant from the inevitable vases of colorful flowers from her garden.

  This modern room looked spare but, somehow, not as cold as she had anticipated. At first glance, she had judged its clean solid lines and black and beige hues a little too stark. But the room seemed to vibrate as she sat in it now. Maybe the people in it gave it warmth, or the toys on the couch that the boy snatched away, as his father sat down. How little it sometimes took to make a home feel like any other.

  Leilani looked up to see Greg Thorpe watching her with amused eyes. Her skin heated up and she lowered her eyes. Could he tell what she was thinking? She was thankful a blush was hardly obvious on her skin.

  He smiled and said, “Can I get you something? Elise should walk in any second now.”

  His wife came in as Leilani said, “Thank you, but no. I’m off to dinner straight from here.”

  Elise sat on the couch next to her husband. She said, “You mean I can’t persuade you to try one of my cookies? It’s good, actually. I’d say I’ve finally gotten the knack for it. The food processor. My mother does hers by hand and that’s how she taught me, but that method has never worked for me.”

  Leilani had to laugh. “Well, maybe one. It smells good in here and it must be your cookies.”

  “Ah yes, you can be sure of it: Yummy scents, yummy bites.”

  Leilani looked long at Elise. She could not help liking this woman. At their first meeting the night before, she was somewhat intimidated by her. Her gaze and manner were so direct that she found herself literally taking one step back. But in the soft afternoon light, with the air suffused with sweet smells of baking cookies, Elise charmed her. The twinkle in her eyes, her easy manner, the bit of flour that still clung to her sleeves, and the wisps of golden hair escaping from the barrette that loosely clipped her hair —everything about her that day seemed so familiar, comforting.

  Greg laid a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I’ll get us a plate. C’mon, Goyo. Daddy needs your help. Ms. Torres, are you sure you don’t want something to drink? We have plenty of sparkling water.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll have sparkling water,” Leilani said.

  “Good.” Greg nodded and strode toward the kitchen, his son at his heels.

  Elise said, “I’m glad to see you, Leilani—may I call you that?”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  “Call me Elise, my husband is Greg, and our son is Goyo. It’s so kind of you to come and satisfy our curiosity about last night.”

  With a little embarrassed smile, Leilani said, “I’m happy to be of help.”

  “By the way, Greg picked Justin up at the hospital early this afternoon and took him back to his apartment. I thought you might like to know. ”

  “How is he?”

  “Swollen, bandaged up, and stitched together in a couple of places. Otherwise, he’s good. He’ll come here later, stay with us a few days, but he wanted a few hours alone by himself at his apartment.”

  “I’m glad. Please tell him I wish him well.”

  “I’ll do that but my fastidious brother gives me the impression he wants to thank you personally when, as he said to me, he’s more presentable.”

  “That would be nice. You have my number.”

  Elise nodded absentmindedly and regarded Leilani for a minute, without saying anything. This time, Leilani held her gaze.

  “I’m concerned about my brother, Leilani. These last few months, our family’s been trying to cope with some tragic news about my oldest brother. But I have not—even once—asked Justin how he’s taking it. He’s always done things right, never been in any kind of trouble. I worshipped him when we were kids because he was so cool, always had something funny to say when things grew too heavy.”

  “I see. Yes, he was in a lot of trouble last night. I can give you my version, but I think only you can say how it relates to what you’ve had to cope with in your family.”

  “True.” Elise paused and stared at Leilani for a moment.

  “Are you some kind of therapist, Leilani?”

  Leilani returned her gaze with wonder. “Yes, I’m a psychologist, but how could you tell?”

  “Well, when you look at someone, you seem to be probing into their minds. You and I are both in the business of trying to read people, except you want to heal them and change their behavior and I have to get them out of their legal difficulties.”

  “You’re quite perceptive, Elise.”

  “Not like you are, I’m sure. I do work with your profession a lot, so what I might know of you comes from experience and not what one of our consulting psychologists calls a ‘clinical eye.’”

  “What line of law do you practice, Elise? If you don’t mind my asking,” Leilani said, wondering what kind of lawyer needed to consult with psychologists.

  “I’m a defense lawyer. You might say, I’m a bit of a bleeding heart. Like you. At least, that’s what one psychologist called me once. A handicap in my line of work, he said. A friend from law school tried to tempt me to go into corporate law where he said I could make money.”

  She looked up at Greg who was coming back into the room with a tray of cookies on a plate, bottles of sparkling water, and glasses. She held her hand out to him and added, “But when I married this guy, making more money for a reasonably comfortable life became much less of an inducement. Now I can be as much of a bleeding heart as I want.”

  Greg placed the tray on the table and enclosed her hand in his. He sat down next to Elise.

  “Where’s the little beast?” Elise asked Greg.

  “He went out with as many cookies as his hands can carry to offer them to Andy and Joe.”

  “Ahhh! Then, they must be good.”

 
“They are, surprisingly, because they don’t look it. Good texture, too.”

  Greg offered the plate to Leilani, “Try it, you won’t regret it. My wife has finally become the most perfect woman on earth for me. I was beginning to despair that there was such a person.”

  He turned to his wife and gave her a peck on the lips.

  Leilani watched with some pang of envy she could not suppress. That brief gesture told her so much. She was twenty-seven and she had never known that kind of love. Elise was probably about her age, with a son who was about four.

  Elise said, “Greg, you’re back in time to hear Leilani’s version of the incident last night.”

  Greg looked disappointed. “I’m sorry, can’t stay. I’ve been dying to know what kind of scrape Justin got himself into. It’s so unlike him. But … he texted me a few minutes ago to help him pick up his car. It’s at a parking garage where he left it Friday night. Bob and I are off to his apartment in a couple of minutes.”

  “I guess you’ll have to hear it from me, then,” Elise said.

  Greg gave his wife another kiss. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours with Justin in tow.”

  When he was gone, Leilani began her recounting from the time she saw the thugs while she waited for stoplights to change. At the instance where she pointed the gun at the men, she hesitated, suspecting that Elise—who probably dealt not only with offenders, but also with victims of violence—opposed gun ownership among civilians.

  The issue was a touchy one among her friends and colleagues, most of them in the helping professions. They all believed in gun control. She did, too, but she had never shared her strong feelings about it with them.

  More than sensitive to the harm firearms could do in the wrong hands, she was, in fact, terrified of them, but she did not want to admit it to anyone. The man who honed her marksmanship had peppered practice sessions with tales of bloody death, spilled guts, and splattering flesh. At eight years old, those tales gave her nightmares lasting many nights. She believed, when she was older, that she learned to channel her anxieties by learning to shoot well to conquer her fear of guns.

  After moments of hesitation, Leilani decided to disclose everything. If she left out using a gun, her story might not make sense. It was important to her that others understand why people do what they do.

  Throughout her story, Elise kept silent and only from her animated face could Leilani infer her reactions. She, herself, was more careful about showing her feelings; but Elise knitted her brow, gasped, gaped, muttered ‘Oh, no” under her breath.

  When Leilani ended her story, Elise’s face shone with gratitude. “You saved Justin’s life. They might have killed him. You did a very brave thing.”

  “Do you think so? Last night, I was so bothered by the mugging that I couldn’t sleep. I wondered if I took an unnecessary risk, even a foolish one. Maybe I should have called the police as soon as I saw what was going on. If one of the thugs had a gun on him that I didn’t see, the evening might have ended in tragedy.”

  “That could have happened. It didn’t, fortunately. Sometimes we don’t think, we just react. You had a gun. You know how to use it, so maybe, instinct told you, you could do it.”

  Leilani nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I have to admit that gun gave me courage.”

  “As someone who helps people, you may also have believed you didn’t have much choice.

  “That occurred to me, too. You do read people.”

  Elise smiled. “Goes with my job. Also, my best friend in law school taught me a few things. Her father’s a therapist.”

  She paused for an instant; then, changed the subject. “But, I’m curious—how’d you learn to be so good with a gun? You’re the only female sharpshooter I’ve met. Justin and Greg do quite well at it. Strictly recreational, though. They don’t own guns, but they go to a shooting range in San Francisco once in a while.”

  Leilani hesitated to answer. Why she had to practice shooting when she was still a child was a part of her past that remained hazy. All she was sure of, at that moment, was she would rather not talk about it. She said, “I learned when I was quite young. That’s all I can tell you for now. Maybe, next time.”

  Elise nodded, but her direct, curious gaze made Leilani look away.

  “Those thugs, did you get a good look at them?” Elise said.

  “No, it was too dark and I was too scared. All I could think of was I had to stop them and get away from there.”

  “Be prepared for the police to come, ask you questions. They may already have talked to Justin. Hospital staff are obligated to report cases of assault.”

  “Thank you for giving me a heads up. I’ll make notes before I talk to them.”

  Leilani picked up the purse on her lap, discreetly took her cell phone out, and glanced at the time. She said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go, Elise.”

  Elise nodded and said, “Can you join us for dinner some time? My way of thanking you for what you’ve done for Justin. I’d also like to get to know you better. I think you and I think alike about many things.”

  Leilani smiled with pleasure. “I’d like that. May I use your bathroom before I go?”

  “Come, I’ll show you where it is.”

  *****

  Greg returned with Justin nearly three hours later. Bob had come home earlier, after dropping the two off at the parking garage where Justin had left his car. The house was quiet, with low lighting from one lamp in the living area.

  Greg said, “Elise must be putting Goyo to bed. Let me show you to your room.”

  Justin said, “Do you mind saying hello and good night to Elise for me? I’m really beat.”

  “No problem. Plenty of time for family in the next few days. While you’re here, your needs come first. Hole up in your room as much as you need to. We’ll understand.”

  “Thanks, Greg. I think your easy company will be good for me.”

  Elise was coming out of Goyo’s room when Greg reached the second floor. She pulled the door behind her but left it ajar.

  She said, “Is Justin all settled in the guest room?”

  “Yes, he’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “How does he look?

  “As well as can be expected. He can move around. I think he’s depressed.”

  “No surprise there. But, he’ll tell you more later, I’m sure. Did you get anything to eat?”

  “We grabbed some burritos. Bob knows all the great places for them. Let’s go to the study and tell me what Leilani Torres told you.”

  An arm on her shoulder, Greg led Elise to the study. They sat on the couch facing Greg’s massive desk. He lifted Elise’s legs up, placing them on his lap.

  “Now, tell me how it all happened.”

  When Elise finished, Greg said, “For all that she told us, I still don’t understand how Justin found himself in a mess with thugs. I’m terribly sorry he’s been hurt badly, but I have this feeling he’s going through some changes, major ones. We still don’t know why he was in that part of town, and we haven’t heard everything about the breakup with Megan.”

  “Yes, I think the breakup must hurt him a lot. She was Justin’s first love and he thought they would grow old together. I can see why he got drunk.”

  “Seven years is a long time. Many marriages don’t last that long.”

  “He asked her to marry him, about three years ago. Just before we all went to Aix en Provence for our wedding celebration. Mom said he wanted to start a family. Megan said no, having children was the only reason she’d marry, and she wasn’t ready. He went along with it because he loved her. I wonder if she was already having an affair with that other woman.”

  Greg shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Justin agreed to stay with us for a while because he wanted to talk to me. Maybe it’s about that.”

  Elise sighed. “Poor Justin. This, on top of what’s going on with Peter. Do you think he’s hurting more because Megan left him for a wo
man?”

  “I don’t know. If he asks me how one copes with something like that, I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  Elise yawned and said, “No, but I’m sure you two will figure it out together. Shall we go to bed, my love?”

  Greg said, “How about your foot massage? We didn’t finish it.”

  “I’m too sleepy and in need of cuddling after all this excitement. You’re what I want right now, my love.” She grasped his hand and pulled him up as she rose from the couch.

  III. Justin

  Justin had been in pain from his bruises and the swollen joint in his right foot. He had taken a sleeping pill with the painkiller the doctor had prescribed for him. The combination had knocked him out like a log. For the first time, he slept well since Megan left him.

  He woke up before eight to a typical autumn morning in the San Francisco Bay Area. Hazy sunshine with a light breeze. Great Sunday weather for walking, a little later in the day. He felt cheerful as he hobbled on a crutch out of the guest suite.

  The suite was next to the living area on the first floor, in an addition Greg and Elise undertook right after they married. Outside his door, he saw the couple and little Goyo having breakfast in the dining room.

  Greg sat with his back to him, but Elise, sitting across from Greg, saw him and called out, “Oh, you’re up. Come and have breakfast. I’ll make you your favorite omelet.”

  Justin moved slowly toward the table. He was still aching all over and he hurt with every step he took as he dragged himself on one leg across the hard concrete floor. For a moment, he wished he was back in his more compact apartment, with its thick carpet under his feet.

  He took the chair next to Greg and said, “Bro, that was torture. I never realized how big your living room is. That was the most painful thirty feet of flat, familiar terrain I’ve ever gone through.”

  Greg chuckled. “It has its uses. Ask this young man right here. He turns that space into worlds he builds in his head. Eh, Goyo?”

  “Yeaaah!” Goyo said, from his high chair at the head of the table.