Cross Roads

by William P. Young

  “Momma will do, sweetheart; Momma will do.”

  “Thank you… Momma.” Maggie had barely uttered the word and Amelia leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Again, Tony slid.

  The car ride to their next destination was mostly quiet, each involved in his or her thoughts. Tony guided them back into southwest Portland, down by the river and into the parking garage that housed the abandoned janitorial closet, its unlocked entry barely visible, set as it was into the building’s facade. He told them where to park and then directed them to remove the batteries from their cell phones as well as the SIM cards.

  “Smart,” grunted Clarence.

  “Clarence, Tony thinks we need to put on gloves.”

  “We do,” agreed Clarence, removing two pairs from his jacket pocket. “Tony, I only have two pair, so don’t touch anything, okay?”

  “Tony says keep your day job.” Maggie chuckled. “He says his prints are all over this place anyway.”

  The two traversed the fifty feet to their destination, careful to walk exactly where Tony told them.

  “Stinks in here.” Maggie stated the obvious as she pulled open the storeroom door. She felt along the wall and flicked on the switch, a single yellow bulb that barely cast light into the junk-filled space. “So this is your secret spy place? I expected more from you, Tony.”

  He ignored her and then noticed she was carrying a handbag. “Purse? Really? You brought your purse with you?”

  “A woman don’t go nowhere without her purse. What if we get trapped in here or something? I got a week’s supply of everything.”

  “All right, sorry I said anything. Just go over to the corner over there. See that rusted box on the wall about three feet up from the ground? Yeah, that’s it. Open the cover and you’ll see a keypad.” He waited until Maggie was ready.

  “Now, push these buttons: 9, 8, 5, 3, 5, 5… good. Now, press the Enter button at the same time as the Power button, and hold them for six seconds.”

  Maggie did as she was instructed. Six seconds is longer when one has to wait, and she almost let go before a whirring and clicking started and the far wall slid back to reveal a shining steel fire door.

  “Whoa!” uttered Maggie. “Now that’s more like it. Dun, dun, dah, dah, dun, dun, dah, dah.” She scatted the first bars to the theme from Mission: Impossible.

  “Now,” continued Tony, shaking his head, “Maggie, read off the numbers that you got from Loree and have Clarence enter them into the twenty-digit keypad.”

  “Okay: 8, 8, 1, 2, 12, 6… Now, Clarence, Tony says push the Enter button and hold it until you hear a beep. Good! Now press the numbers 1 and 3 at the same time and hold them until you hear another beep. Perfect!”

  With the second beep also came the clanking of something in the wall mechanically shifting.

  “It worked!” Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “You can go in now.”

  As the steel door easily opened, lights flashed on, revealing the hidden space: a modern but sparsely decorated apartment, complete with bedroom, bathroom, small kitchen and table, and large work area. The only things missing were windows, but art suitably decorated the walls. One wall was completely shelved, housing an array of books and documents, and an oversized oak desk sat in a corner complete with large-screen computer. The door closed automatically, and they could hear the wall outside slide back into place. Tony knew a timer would shut off the single bulb still shining in the closet space.

  “Wow.” Clarence whistled. “This is amazing.”

  “Yeah,” grunted Tony. “It is crazy what a little paranoia can create.”

  “You like to read, huh?” Maggie had stopped to look over the books. “Stephen King fan?”

  “Yup, that Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption is a first-edition novella. Got more first editions downtown, but that’s my favorite.”

  “And let’s see…,” continued Maggie, “you got some Orson Scott Card, that book by Emma Donoghue that I been wanting to read, and… Jodi Picoult? You read her stuff?”

  “Not usually. Somebody left it on a plane in a seat pocket and I took it.”

  “Wow! Looks like you have a bunch of classics, too. Now that’s more my style, along with Lewis, Williams, Parker, and MacDonald, and murder mysteries for fun.”

  “I haven’t read most of those old books, not lately anyway,” Tony admitted. “They are investments more than any personal literary interest. I pick up one now and then from Powell’s downtown. Did you know that they have an incredible rare book room?”

  “All right, you two,” interrupted Clarence. “This place is kinda creepy, no offense, Tony, and I would just as soon get what we came for and get outta here.”

  Tony agreed and directed them to the corner of the workspace opposite the desk. Built into the floor was the vault, with the traditional knob-turning tumbler. It took a couple tries of 9, 18, 10, 4, and 12, with the proper clockwise and counter spins before Maggie was successful and some internal hydraulics whished open the top. Inside were stacks of papers, documents, and cash, along with other items in small boxes of various sizes.

  Maggie produced a black garbage bag from her coat pocket.

  “What am I supposed to take?” she asked. “The cash?”

  Tony laughed. “No, unfortunately. It’s all counted and serial numbers recorded off-site. Secondary insurance that no one would be snooping in here unnoticed.”

  “Wow! You are paranoid, but I’m impressed.”

  “Thank you, I think,” responded Tony. “But you might want to tell Clarence that he doesn’t want to watch this part. Plausible deniability and all. And tell him not to use the water in the kitchen or bathroom. It will leave a record.” Maggie did so and Clarence obediently went to explore more of the place.

  “Okay, Maggie, see that big stack of documents on the right? Yeah, that one. Grab a big handful of them, but keep them in the same order as you pick them up. I have to find the right one.”

  She did so and placed a large pile of official-looking papers on the floor in front of her. Maggie read the top one. “Your Last Will and Testament? Is this the cat stupidity?”

  “Yeah, like I said, not my best moment. Just take that one off the top and put it into the garbage bag.” Internally, he slowly exhaled his relief, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach subsiding as the tension eased.

  “Okay, now take about ten of the stapled documents off the top and put them on the floor to your right.”

  “Are these all Last Wills and Testaments?” asked Maggie, confused.

  “Yup! What can I tell you? I have been a rather fickle guy. Mood swings.”

  “Glad I didn’t know you back then,” huffed Maggie. “I don’t think we would have been friends.”

  “Sadly that’s true, and it would have been my huge loss, Maggie.”

  Maggie was speechless for a moment. Then she said softly, “So what am I looking for?”

  “I actually don’t need you to look for anything, Maggie. I just need you to turn the pages until I tell you to stop.”

  They slowly worked their way through another dozen of these wills, each one reviewed placed on the discard pile to the right.

  “Stop!” exclaimed Tony. Something he was looking for had finally caught his eye. “This might be it. Maggie, just look somewhere, don’t turn your head, but don’t read, please, while I check this out.”

  “Okay?” She fought hard the temptation to see what it was that Tony was looking at. “Tony, I have curiosity DNA,” she groaned. “Don’t be doing this to me.”

  “Well, grab that photo that’s in the safe over to the left of the docs you pulled out and look at that,” he suggested. “Maybe that will distract you.”

  She reached for it, aged and inside a protective covering. Turning it over, she was surprised. “Hey, Tony, I’ve seen this photo before.”

  “What?” He was shocked. “That’s not possible.”

  “No,” she continued, “Jake showed me the same photo a couple days ago
. His was in lots worse shape than this one, all wrinkly and folded, but it’s the same one. It’s you and him and your mom and dad, right?”

  “Yeah, it is.” He was stunned. Jake had a copy of this picture?

  “Jake said it’s the only picture he has of your mom and dad. He used to keep it in a shoe so no one would steal it. He said it was one of the last happy days he can remember with your folks… I’m sorry, Tony, I didn’t mean to…”

  He found his voice again, and spoke softly. “It’s okay, Maggie. Seems there are still lots of surprises in this world.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Maggie, did Jake happen to tell you what we were laughing about in the picture? I’ve tried, but I can’t remember.”

  “Ha!” She laughed. “He sure did. You were laughing because…” She stopped. “You know what, Tony, I think I’ll let Jake tell you. I think that would be special.”

  “Maggie!” begged Tony. “Don’t do that to me. Please, just tell me.”

  “You two almost done foolin’ around in there?” came the voice of Clarence from the other room. “We’ve got to get outta here soon.”

  “Back to work, Tony!” whispered Maggie. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Well, thank God, I found what I was looking for and it is notarized and everything. Seems there was some value to my state of mind after all. Anyway, leave this one on the top, and return it along with the rest of the stack back to the same place you pulled it out from. Perfect! Now, the pile on the right, just throw those into the garbage bag. Have Clarence just give the whole bag to his friend to shred.”

  Maggie did as she was told and was about to push the Close button on the vault door, when Tony spoke.

  “Wait! There are a couple other things I want to get out of there. Look over at the far left on the top shelf… See that envelope that says TWIMC on the top? Grab that, and… let me think. Oh yeah, on the shelf under where you found that letter there is another stack, on the left side. Yeah. Somewhere in there is a letter addressed to Angela. You found it? Great.”

  “Angela?” Maggie inquired.

  “I had my moments. Sometimes I wrote to her things that I couldn’t say, you know, asking for forgiveness and stuff like that. But I never sent them. This was my last one and if things don’t work out, I want you to give it to her. Promise?”

  She hesitated before answering. “Yeah, Tony, I promise,” she said and added quickly, “but everything’s going to work out just fine and you can tell her all these things yourself.”

  “I hope so.” Tony faltered.

  “Is that it? We done here?” asked Clarence sternly.

  Tony made a quick decision. “Nope! There’s one more thing. Do you see that small blue box over in the corner on the bottom left side? Would you take that, too? Please don’t open it. It’s rather personal. No one will know it was here, but I don’t want to leave it here regardless.”

  “Sure, Tony.” And without another question Maggie deposited the little felt-covered box, along with the two letters, in her purse.

  “We’re done,” Maggie announced to Clarence and handed him the garbage bag.

  He nodded that he knew what to do with it and helped her secure the safe, making sure it was properly locked.

  “Don’t worry about lights,” Tony advised. “They are on motion detectors and will shut off automatically.”

  They exited the way they had come in, carefully retracing their steps to ensure that nothing appeared disturbed or out of place.

  Back in the car Maggie broke the silence. “So, Tony, now what?”

  “Now,” he stated with complete certainty, “now, back to the hospital and do some healing.”

  18

  CROSSED ROADS

  I met you at the crossing

  Where one road finds another

  I did not even ask your name

  I would not even bother

  I looked at only what I saw

  And did not see you fall

  And even though I said I loved

  I hardly loved at all

  I didn’t mean to leave you there

  It wasn’t my intent

  I simply looked the other way

  And said nothing I meant

  I didn’t choose to cross this road

  Although it’s what I wanted

  Instead pretended you weren’t there

  Believed you never counted

  Oh, see I have this golden chain

  Tied round my throat and heart

  A bond more real to me than you

  Is keeping us apart

  I need a Voice to answer me

  I need Someone who’s true

  I need new eyes that let me see

  That in my me is You

  Oh, Someone please now guide me cross

  This road betwixt between

  And join my broken bits of soul

  To real that is unseen

  19

  THE GIFT

  Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.

  —Mark Twain

  Tony was more alive than he had ever been, but still he knew that he was tiring. He had slept, or rested, or something in between, without the memory of a dream but the lingering sense of being held when he awoke. Wherever he had been, it had been safe and would continue to be. Even if there was an explanation, he didn’t want to know it. He was tiring. He was dying. He accepted that, with a consuming sense of peace. It was time to act.

  “Maggie?”

  “Hey you. I wondered when you were going to show. This place is not the same when you aren’t around.”

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “I don’t say what I don’t mean,” she said affectionately, and then added with a snicker, “most of the time.”

  “So what’s the plan?” he inquired. “When can we go up to the hospital?”

  “Glad you asked. Well, I’ve been on the phone while you were gone, wherever it is you go, and we’re all heading up there this afternoon.”

  “We?” asked Tony, curious.

  “Yup, the whole gang. Even Clarence is coming.” Maggie added quickly, “Now, don’t you go worrying. I haven’t told anyone what we’re up to, just said it would be nice to be up there together.”

  “Who all are we talking about?” Tony still didn’t quite understand.

  “The whole caboodle of us, you know”—and she began itemizing on her fingers—“Clarence, me, Molly, Cabby, Jake, Loree, Angela”—she paused for effect—“and you. That’s eight. Nine if you include Lindsay but she’s already up there. Looks like we are starting our own church. Just better that no one knows that’s what it is.”

  “You think that’s a good idea? All of us up there?”

  “One never knows if anything’s a good idea. You just make a choice and go with the flow and see what happens. You only get one day’s worth of grace, so why not spend it extravagantly.”

  “All right then,” he acquiesced. That was a choice he could make, to stay inside the grace of one day. Everything else was just imagination anyway.

  Maggie, who was busy baking as usual, suddenly stopped and asked, “Tony, you don’t even know what day this is, do you?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I’ve sort of lost all track of time. I don’t even know how long this whole coma thing has been going on. What’s so special about today?”

  “Today,” she announced, “is Easter Sunday! Two days ago was Good Friday, you know, the day that we all poured out our wrath on Jesus hanging on the cross. The day he entered into our experience completely, got so deeply lost in all our crap that only his Father could find him… that’s what day that was. God in the hands of angry sinners day.”

  “Seriously?” He was surprised. The irony did not escape him, or Maggie, who continued her preach.

  “Tony, don’t you get it? This is resurrection weekend!… And today we are going up to that hospital and we are going to raise you from the dead. By the power of God, we are goi
ng to raise you into a new life. Sunday’s here! I can hardly stand how cool this is!” She let her Pentecostal roots show, waving a wooden spoon, sticky with a delicious-looking batter, and dancing a little jig. “Well, say something! What do you think?”

  “How soon do we go?” he said, trying to match her excitement. It came out flat in comparison.

  “Tony, how can you be so cold when something is this unbelievable! What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m white—even out of body, what can I say.” Tony laughed. “I’m grateful to be inside your head and not somewhere where someone might want me to dance or something.”

  Maggie laughed. Clean from the bottom of her toes and along with Tony. When she calmed she added, “Well, we should head up there pretty soon. I’m just waiting for some sweet dough to rise, and then you and I can go on up. Molly and Cabby are already there, probably the rest, too, but don’t know for sure.”

  “Sounds good,” he responded, but Maggie was already clearly focused on the tasks at hand, humming a tune that Tony barely remembered from somewhere. Everything was motion.

  Maggie entered the waiting area outside Neurosciences ICU and was greeted warmly by Molly, Loree, and Angela. Jake and Cabby were off exploring the lobby Starbucks for a latte and hot chocolate. Clarence gave Maggie an appropriate but extended hug and she almost blushed. If only the others knew what they did.

  A short time later Maggie dismissed herself to visit Tony in ICU alone, explaining that she wanted to pray for him and didn’t want to embarrass anyone with her exuberance if she got a little carried away. Clarence gave her a knowing wink and whispered, “I’ll be praying, too.”

  She checked in at the reception station, and as she approached Tony’s room, an attending physician dressed in his whites emerged from inside.

  “Maggie,” Tony said, “do you still have that letter you took from the safe with you?”

  “The one you wrote to Angela?” she muttered without moving her lips.

  “No, not that one, the other one. Do you still have it?”