Seeking Refuge

by Alana Terry

  “I always wonder why that’s supposed to be a good thing.” Lorie stared at Alexa’s dress, watching the light shimmer on the iridescent fabric. “That looks like you. Did you have it made just for this?”

  Alexa shook her head. “No, I just saw it and decided I had to have it. I know a designer with a flair for the early decades of the twentieth century.” She stood back and admired Lorie again. “You know, the way they wrapped your head in your hair... it makes me consider growing mine longer. It’s such an elegant look.”

  A glance in the mirror proved Alexa’s words true. The wrapped style did look good. “I wasn’t sure when they suggested it, but you’re right. It’s perfect for this dress. All those times Dad tried to get me to cut it. I’m going to have to rub this one in a little.”

  “You should. It would be criminal to cut that hair.”

  “Everyone is always telling me to get it in a China-doll styled pageboy thing. Ugh.”

  Lorie fidgeted until Alexa ordered her to sit. “Close your eyes and relax.”

  A knock interrupted Lorie’s nervous giggle. Panic flooded her as she jumped and then sank back into the chair again. “What if he can’t stand me? What if he thinks I’m ugly or that I look like a little girl? What if they paid all that money for tickets and I’m just a big disappointment?” She felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. Panic seemed to have frozen them too.

  Alexa pointed to the door. “Will you get that? I need to check my nylons. I think I feel a run.” Lorie tried to protest, but her voice refused to cooperate. Alexa pointed to the mirror. “Before you do, though, give yourself a quick glance in that mirror. Don’t be overly critical. Be honest, and then open that door.”

  Dismayed, Lorie watched as the bathroom door shut behind Alexa. What was the woman thinking? How was she supposed to answer the door to two strange men? She glanced at herself in the mirror and then turned to answer the knock. She turned again.

  This time, she truly looked at her reflection. Despite her short stature, she didn’t look anything like a little girl. The tailored gown was exactly what she needed to give her height and maturity without making her look like a child playing dress up. Her hair, makeup, manicure—it all enhanced each of her features to their best advantage. She looked beautiful. Lorie leaned in a bit closer, shaking her head in surprise. Who knew that the two things that she hated most about herself could be her best features when properly accented?

  The second knock came—even more insistent his time. Alexa called for her to hurry and answer the door. At that moment, Lorie realized what Alexa had done and was grateful. She could now open the door with confidence.

  “Hey, come in. I’m Lorie—Alexa’s fiddling with her dress in there.”

  A man with a mustache smiled as he kicked the door shut. “I’m Joe Freidan, and this is my brother Jeremy.” When his brother didn’t respond, Joe jabbed him in the ribs.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lorie. I—”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “We don’t let Jeremy in civilized society very often. He would like to offer you the flowers he brought.”

  All of Lorie’s nervousness disappeared as she saw Jeremy just as awkward as she had felt only moments earlier. She accepted the flowers, smiling at the men. “They’re gorgeous. I love orchids, and look, they’ll be perfect with this dress!”

  Alexa stepped into the room, smiling briefly at Joe. She introduced herself to Jeremy before helping Lorie attach an orchid to her dress. As she stood back and surveyed the results, she said, “You know, Lorie. It would look gorgeous if you put one in your hair like this...”

  Flowers set in her hair, Lorie chatted with Jeremy as they strolled from the room to the elevator. Alexa and Joe followed, talking about the dozen or so calls she’d received from half the police force in Fairbury, Lorie’s father, and Alexa’s brother. As they stepped from the elevators, a man wearing a black tuxedo and a deep purple rose boutonniere stepped up and handed Alexa a napkin and his pen. “You’re Alexa Hartfield, aren’t you? Would you mind? I’d love your autograph.”

  Jeremy shot a panicked look at Joe as Alexa snickered and Lorie cried, “Daddy! You’re terrible!” Joe, confused, reached for a gun he wasn’t wearing.

  THE ORCHESTRA TOOK a thirty-minute break at ten o’clock. Alexa expected elevator music for the duration of the intermission, but sighed in delight as the strains of Jo Stafford’s “No Other Love” wafted through the sound system. Darrin Thorne stood and asked her to dance.

  “Would you like...”

  Alexa loved the gentle beauty of the melody, and Jo Stafford was a personal favorite. “I’d love to.” As she left the table, she winked at Lorie and Jeremy as they struggled to hide their amusement at Joe’s expression. He glowered behind crossed arms, and his tuxedo jacket made him look like a mobster ready to “whack” someone for giving him a sidewise glance.

  Halfway through the dance, Alexa noticed that Joe followed Lorie and Jeremy to the refreshment tables and wondered if he was more irritated than he’d seemed. However, by the time they returned to their seats, Joe arrived with drinks for all three of them. Darrin seemed surprised, which just made the whole thing ridiculous. She felt like a girl at a school dance with two friends fighting over whose turn it was to dance. Ridiculous—especially considering neither man had shown particular interest.

  Several minutes later, another Stafford number, “Whatcha Know, Joe,” filled the room. Joe jumped to his feet before the introduction finished. “Alexa?”

  Her eyes met Joe’s, and her smile answered his. She accepted his hand, following him to the nearly empty dance floor. Though several dancers hovered around the edges, Joe led her to the middle of the floor, snapping one hand to the beat of the music. Smoothly he swung her around into position, his eyes twinkling with the spinning lights of the room. Grateful for the classes she’d taken to authenticate her writing, Alexa recognized the simple steps of east coast swing.

  His skill showed best in his ability to lead her into moves that she managed to follow, even as he spun her with seemingly effortless ease. Alexa found herself enjoying the dance more than she’d expected.

  By the last third of the song, the other dancers stood rocking to the music, watching as Joe led her through steps she’d never imagined trying. His familiarity with the song became particularly evident as he dipped her slightly at the precise moment the song ended. Alexa’s delight shone in her eyes as the room erupted in applause. A few cries of “encore” echoed around them, but Joe ignored them. He set her on her feet, and an echo of the applause sounded around them once more. Still out of breath, Joe raised her hand as though declaring her a winner before bowing and leading her from the floor. The crowd loved it.

  Alexa beamed. “Who knew you were such an amazing dancer!”

  “Well, Jeremy, my mom...”

  “You know what I mean. I love that song—one of my favorites. They played two of hers. That seems odd, but I’m glad.” She sighed contentedly.

  “Probably easier to use a couple from each album when making the playlist. Saves time.” He led her through the tables. “She does my favorite version of ‘You Belong to Me,’ too.” Joe glanced down at her. “I love the balance of possession without clinginess. She sends her guy off—lets him go—but reminds him that he’s not free indefinitely.”

  Alexa nodded as she resumed her seat. “That’s true. I’ve never thought of it that way. There is some sort of claim—marriage or engagement I suppose—but she doesn’t use it as a choke chain. It’s just a reminder that there’s another half of ‘us.’”

  Lorie watched her father and saw the exact moment when Darrin decided to ask Alexa—there he went—for another dance. Joe half rose from his chair as they sauntered to the dance floor, swaying to the sounds of some song she’d never heard.

  Jeremy kicked Joe under the table. “You’re being too obvious, man. Take her for a walk or something,” he growled under his breath.

  Lorie heard him and smiled to herself. Joe and
her father were very slowly growing comically competitive over Alexa. While it was fun to observe, the strain around Joe’s eyes wasn’t. He’d paid a lot for the tickets so that he and Jeremy could escort them to the ball. She thought for a moment and then stood. “Excuse me, but I think I want to finish this dance with my father.”

  Lorie cut in with an exaggerated masculine bow and took over the dance. Joe rose and hurried to meet Alexa near the edge of the dance floor. She was right. “Dad...”

  “Having fun?”

  “Loads. Jeremy is great.”

  “Will I think he’s great?” Darrin winked at his daughter.

  “You don’t already?”

  “He makes my daughter smile and hasn’t groped her once—right now, yep. I like him.”

  Lorie blushed. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have to worry about that. He’s kind of shy around me. According to Alexa, that’s not normal. She thinks he likes me.”

  “I agree with her assessment.”

  “Really?” Her errand forgotten, Lorie smiled. “I hoped, but Alexa has bias toward me.” She manufactured a frown. “Then again, so do you.”

  “Guilty. But anyone can see it. He’s watching you now, wondering if he offended you—should he have asked you to dance again.”

  “He thought I needed to rest. He’s done that a lot, and he doesn’t make me feel like I’m handicapped when he does it.”

  Darrin’s face softened. She knew that look. “That’s why I think he’ll be ok.”

  “So, I was thinking...”

  “About?”

  “Joe and everything. It’s just that—”

  “You think I’m making things uncomfortable between Joe and Alexa and that maybe being a fifth-wheel wasn’t such a good idea.”

  Lorie blushed. “Well, no. I didn’t think that—”

  “Well, I do. I bought the ticket when I thought you didn’t have escorts. I wanted to be sure you both had someone to dance with, but I’ve spent most of my evening dancing with strangers. I’m tired, and frankly, a little too old for this kind of thing.”

  “You are not!” she objected.

  “I am too.” Darrin winked. “And even if you won’t admit it, I am a fifth wheel. I’ll go home in a little while so it isn’t obvious that we talked about it. No reason to make things any more awkward than I already have.”

  Lorie pulled her father’s face down to her level and kissed his forehead. “You are the best father in the world.”

  THE ORCHESTRA PACKED their instruments after they ended “Auld Lang Syne.” Confetti littered the floor as the Everly Brothers filled the room over the sound system. Alexa and Joe waited at their table for the crowd near the doors to thin. “Let It Be Me” played lazily as other couples migrated to the dance floor.

  Joe watched Lorie and Jeremy as they swayed to the music, nudging Alexa. “Look, he’s singing to her. I wonder if he realizes it. He loves these guys.”

  “How do you guys know this stuff? I only learned it after college.”

  “Really? Why?”

  She played with the tablecloth. “It was kind of my own music appreciation course. I researched the music from the eras of my clothes—Beethoven, Rossini, Schubert for Regency, Joplin during the Edwardian, Benny Goodman during the thirties and forties, and of course, the Beatles in the sixties. So much better than the stuff I grew up with.”

  Joe nodded. “Right? My mom and dad grew up with this stuff, so I grew up with it and all the stuff my grandparents liked. I never heard much modern music until high school, and who cares about pop stars when they were weaned on Vic Damone?”

  Alexa didn’t answer. She watched Lorie and Jeremy closely. If their faces had looked angry, she would have sworn they were arguing. As it was, Jeremy looked embarrassed, and Lorie—was she teasing him? “Joe, look. What do you think is going on?”

  Joe watched as the couple slowly danced to the corner of the floor, still engrossed in their conversation. Jeremy suddenly looked both relieved and then even more embarrassed—simultaneously. “I don’t know. Maybe he realized he was singing or maybe his voice cracked.”

  “Do you think we should stick around, or should we go? I told Lorie we’d probably be gone before they got back here.”

  Joe stood and offered his arm. “Let’s go.”

  ALEXA AND JOE SAT AT the table in her room, playing a lazy game of War and nibbling on the remainder of her fries. Alexa rested her feet on the corner of her mattress, using it as an ottoman. “So, did Wes mention if Nolan has checked out the computer yet? I thought he was coming over on Friday.”

  “Who is Nolan?”

  “Some computer geek that Wes knows—and is always trying to fix me up with.” She sighed. “Nolan isn’t any more interested than I am, but Wes doesn’t get that. Anyway, he thinks that if the computer is the weak point, Nolan can find it.”

  “Why aren’t you interested?” Joe ignored that he blew off part of the case with the question.

  Alexa looked at him quizzically before answering. “I know enough about Nolan from Wes. He loves children and misses his very domestic mother. He wants a home, wife, and family. I am not what he’s looking for.”

  Joe took in the information and in his typical “Friday” style, asked another question. “How do you know you’re so wrong for him? He may think he wants things a certain way, but once he meets the right woman, maybe he’d discover he doesn’t know what he wants.”

  “The one thing I know for certain is that Nolan wants children. I can’t give him that.”

  Joe’s heart sank. He’d opened a wound. It didn’t take an exceptionally perceptive person to recognize the defeat in her tone. “Want to talk about it?”

  Alexa played her cards silently for several minutes. Just as Joe started to ask about Nolan and the computer again, Alexa began talking as if the words forced themselves from her. “I get this way every Christmas. Not quite sure why it has to be at Christmas, but it is.”

  “What is?”

  “My parents.” She sighed. “They haven’t forgiven me and every Christmas is a dagger-like reminder that I’ve failed them in every way possible.”

  “I would have thought your parents would be proud of you—successful author, strong Christian, respected citizen...”

  Alexa shook her head and took a deep breath. “They’re not. Not only have I disappointed them emotionally and physically, I’ve hurt them spiritually. I write evil books not fit for a Christian to read, much less imagine, in a warped twisted mind obviously not filled with the purity of Jesus.”

  “What?” It sounded preposterous. What kind of parent—?”

  “I’ve always been thankful that my talents weren’t in acting or music. No one looks for juicy gossip on authors. We’re sort of an untapped quasi-celebrity market.”

  Joe winced. This wouldn’t be pretty. “What happened?”

  “When I was in high school, I got pregnant. It took a lot of fighting the school, but they finally let me finish out the year with my class since I wasn’t due until summer—unheard of, but my mom can be... persuasive.”

  “And the baby?”

  “They demanded that I give him up for adoption.”

  Joe watched her features as the pain of the memories distorted her normally cheerful face into a picture of misery. Alexa continued, unaware that she told more than the bones of the story. Her face fleshed out the tale more than she could ever have imagined.

  “The day after school let out for summer, I went into early labor—barely survived. Everything went wrong. They tried to intervene too much some said; I don’t really know. They did a C-section and I came to with a healthy son and no uterus.”

  The words kicked him in the gut. He laced his fingers in hers and prayed for the encouragement she needed to continue. Alexa smiled her thanks, but the gesture did little to convince him she was emotionally well. “You don’t have—”

  “So,” she interrupted, “if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve been punished for the past fifteen years
for not refusing the papers once I knew I was unable to have more children. I disgraced the family name by getting pregnant out of wedlock. My repentance was deemed genuine until my body failed me, and now I am trying to destroy my family from the inside out because I made the incredibly selfish choice not to become a teen mother.”

  Joe stood and brought Kleenex from the bathroom and passed it to her before taking her hand again. “I’m so sorry. Who was he—the father, I mean? What did he have to say about it all?”

  “Most people don’t ask about him. Even my family only asked so they could be sure he got the censure I did. Almost no one ever asks ‘who’ out of concern for him as a person.”

  With those words, she stared at their hands, unspeaking. Joe watched, compassion in his eyes. Part of her personality began to make sense, but he suspected a large chunk of the puzzle remained upside down.

  “Jimmy Kawolski,” she began eventually, “was the coolest guy at school. I was so excited when he asked me out. I didn’t tell Mom who I was going out with—she was still mad that I hadn’t accepted a date with Clay—a guy from church. She rode my tail about it all evening. By the time Jimmy got there, I ran to his car before he could turn it off and jumped in. I knew Mom would say something to embarrass me.”

  “You don’t have to...” he repeated, ashamed that he hoped she’d ignore him.

  “He took me to get fast food—I don’t remember what kind—and then we drove out to the pinnacles.”

  “The pinnacles?”

  “Rock formations—well, calcium carbonate, actually. They grow out of a dry lakebed near where I grew up. They’re beautiful—almost eerie at night.”

  “Big make-out spot?”

  “Not really. In the desert, people find more sheltered places—too much wind, sun, or cold.” She slowly shredded the tissue with her thumb and index fingers. “Jimmy... I think he knew I was ripe for rebellion. We walked around with flashlights and sticks—still warm enough out to encounter snakes, you know. When we got back to the truck, he pulled out an air mattress and pumped it up in the back of the truck—tried to act like it was a way to lie back and look at the stars.” Tears moistened her eyelashes. “I wasn’t as gullible as he thought.”