The Hungry Heart

by Brenda Gayle

  But just because they wouldn’t change didn’t mean he couldn’t. Taylor was wrong about him. People could change if they wanted to. Nora had changed in the brief time they had been together. She had opened herself up to new experiences, learned to accept what life had to offer, become comfortable in her own skin. Change was possible if the incentive was strong enough.

  He picked up the letter from the insurance company and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. He had one stop to make on behalf of his family. And then he’d find Nora and tell her he wanted to change the game. He liked her rules better.

  ****

  Gary’s tremors were worse than Nora had ever seen them. After several unsuccessful attempts to insert his key into the lock she took it from him and opened the door, holding it wide so he could pass. He smiled gratefully as he manipulated the walker over the threshold and preceded her into his apartment.

  She was a little surprised to find herself accompanying a virtual stranger home to his apartment for dinner. The old Nora would never have done that. But then, the old Nora wouldn’t have opened herself up and laid bare her soul to anyone either.

  Gary had been sympathetic when she stumbled upon him in the plaza. His demeanor was so calm and unassuming she couldn’t help but trust and confide in him, and accept his offer of a home-cooked meal.

  She was glad she’d agreed to come with him. Her assistance made it easier for Gary to board the city bus that took them across town. He was starting to have more bad days than good, he’d said, and soon he’d be confined to his wheelchair, and then to a bed.

  Her heart ached for him and she wondered about his life before the disease. What was there in his past that gave him the strength to carry on with grace and good humor in the face of such a dismal future?

  “It’s not much, but it suits me,” Gary said motioning to his surroundings. “I think it was designed as a granny suite for the home’s original owners.” He leaned heavily on his walker and watched as Nora scanned the room.

  His apartment was nothing more than a single large room located in the back of a family’s home. The kitchen area, to the right of the entryway, consisted of a cooking surface, a fridge, and a small aluminum table with two folding chairs. A wardrobe made a makeshift wall that she assumed blocked off the sleeping area from the small sitting area with its ancient couch and television/stereo shelving unit. A door tucked in the back corner probably led to the bathroom.

  “It looks very cozy,” she said. “Do you have anyone come in to help you?”

  He shook his head. “No, can’t afford that. But the current owners, a nice young couple, often pick up my groceries when they’re getting their own, and then insist on putting them away for me. They also make sure the path around to my door isn’t blocked by their kids’ toys and stuff.”

  What a challenge his day-to-day life must be. Enough with the self-pitying—compared to him I have a lot going for me, a lot to be grateful for.

  If Gary could persevere in the face of his disability, she could certainly move on from CAN and Hunter Graham. Her heart clenched at the thought of Hunter. How strange that the loss of someone she had known for only six weeks would be more devastating to her than the association she’d founded over a decade ago. Sometimes she barely recognized herself.

  “Do you like pasta primavera?” Gary asked, his voice quivering.

  Nora could see his body sway slightly as he clung on to the walker. “Yes, but let me make it.” She took his arm and helped him over to a chair in the kitchenette.

  He sank down and sighed heavily, relieved. “I invited you,” he protested half-heartedly.

  “I know, but you’re tired. Just tell me where everything is.”

  He told her where to find the pot, utensils, and ingredients. She set to work. Unlike Hunter’s expansive kitchens, Gary’s efficient layout didn’t overwhelm her, and she was quite confident she could pull off a simple pasta dish. As she carefully chopped the vegetables, she tried not to remember how Hunter had laughed at her knife skills when they’d first met.

  “How about some music?” Nora said, trying to shake off her memories of Hunter.

  “Sure.” He started to rise.

  “I’ll get it.” Nora dropped the knife and headed for the stereo.

  Someone had turned on the outside light that illuminated the pathway to Gary’s door. The rays shone in through the window, a direct beacon cutting through the night to dance off the intricate design of the ornate sterling silver picture frame.

  Nora heard herself utter a soft whoosh in response to what felt like a punch to her gut. She reached out to pick it up. Time seemed to stop while she gazed down at the familiar photo. The teenage girl holding a baby stared back at her.

  She turned to face Gary, the thing clutched in one hand, her other hand pointing at it. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. How?

  Chapter 22

  “Señora Pearce, there’s a gentleman here to see your husband. I told him Señor Pearce was not at home, but he insists—”

  Hunter pushed past the housekeeper and walked into the room. He wasn’t going to wait at the entrance to see if Nora’s sister was going to let him in.

  Karen looked up, past her agitated housekeeper, to Hunter. She sighed, closed the book she’d been reading, and rose from the couch. “It’s all right,” she told the housekeeper, who scowled at Hunter as she edged past him in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Pearce,” Hunter said, giving her an apologetic half-smile, “but your husband’s office said he was on his way home, and I need to speak with him urgently.”

  “Well, come in, sit down. And you might as well call me Karen.”

  He sank heavily down into one of the wingback chairs, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. He needed to speak to the attorney general for his family’s sake, but he greatly wanted to see Nora for his own, and this delay only added to his sense of emptiness.

  Karen had been in Albuquerque when Nora had ended things with him, but Nora had said the two sisters had never been close. He wondered how much Karen knew about what had happened, or if she could give him a sense of where Nora’s head was at. Then again, Karen hadn’t seemed very happy to see him at the hospital. Judging from her stiff posture and pinched face, she didn’t seem any more pleased with his appearance at her home.

  “Have you seen Nora recently?” Karen asked.

  Hunter’s head shot up. “No. Why?”

  “Today’s her birthday. I thought you might have seen her.”

  “I didn’t remember.” His voice was very quiet. How could he have forgotten that? He knew turning thirty-five had been preying on her mind. She’d said it was part of the reason she’d given in to his seduction. “How is she? I heard she’s leaving her job. It must be a very difficult time for her.”

  Karen’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to study him. She looked older than the last time he’d seen her. Was her life as a political wife wearing on her or was there something else?

  “Karen?” Hunter and Karen jumped as Robert’s voice boomed from the front entryway.

  “In here,” she called to him.

  Hunter rose as the attorney general entered the room, but Robert waved him away, turning to Karen.

  “Where’s Nora?” he said.

  “I don’t know. She said she had some sort of reception to go to.”

  “No, I saw her there earlier. I mean now. Do you know where she is now?”

  “What’s going on?” Hunter said. The urgency in Robert’s voice sent his heart pounding into his throat.

  “I need to find Nora right away. I’ve already tried her cell, and I’ve been to her office and apartment.”

  “Robert, you’re scaring me. Is something wrong?” Karen said.

  “She was at my suite earlier this evening, shortly before six, I think,” Hunter said.

  Karen turned to him, startled. He had denied seeing Nora earlier. He shrugged. “I wasn’t there,” he explained. “Someone else told
me.”

  “Do you know where she went after that?” Robert asked.

  “No. I was planning to see her myself after I left here, but I just assumed she’d be at her apartment,” Hunter said.

  “Please, Robert, what’s going on?” Karen grabbed her husband’s arm and looked into his face. She seemed on the verge of descending into full-fledged panic.

  Robert steered Karen back to the couch, and urged her to sit down. “I received a call from the Albuquerque police. They’d just completed the forensics on Nora’s laptop.”

  “The one that was damaged in the shooting?” Karen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But that was weeks ago. Why would you just get the report now?”

  Robert sighed heavily. “The labs are backed up, and it was considered a low priority.”

  “Low priority?” Karen jumped up. “She was shot!”

  “What did the report say?” Hunter interrupted.

  “Well, the only reason they examined the computer at all was because she didn’t seem to know where it came from. Both of you denied giving it to her.” He paused, waiting for them to confirm the statement before continuing. “Nora thought that the break-ins of her apartment and office were related to her work, and that was the reason that her first computer was stolen. So, the lab was looking for some sort of tracking program that would monitor her computer’s contents—some way for the thieves to steal data.”

  “And?” Hunter prompted impatiently.

  “And there was a tracking device in the computer. A GPS device.”

  “GPS? But that’s...” Karen began, but couldn’t finish.

  “Global positioning system,” Robert said. “They weren’t monitoring her data, they were monitoring her location.”

  “Oh God.” Karen sank down on the couch and buried her face in her hands.

  Hunter was surprised by the intensity of Karen’s reaction. It seemed Nora might be in trouble and that was definitely concerning, but it was entirely possible she’d simply gone to pay a final visit to one of her association’s projects, or gone to dinner to hammer out one last deal. She’d only been out of touch for a few hours, and yet Karen seemed to be anticipating the worst. Why was that? And why did she seem to feel responsible for it?

  “It’s okay, Karen. We’re going to find her. I’ve got the police looking for her now.” Robert sat beside his wife and wrapped his arms around her. Karen buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing.

  Hunter tried to rationally sift through Robert’s information. “If they were tracking her, then the shooting most likely wasn’t random.”

  “That was always a possibility we were considering, but now it seems almost certain,” Robert said.

  “Any idea why she’d be targeted this way?”

  Before Robert could answer Hunter’s question Karen emitted a long painful moan.

  “Karen?” Robert forced her head up. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head, unable to look at him.

  Hunter’s voice was hard with certainty. “You know something about this.”

  “Karen?” Robert repeated. “Look at me.”

  “What is it?” Hunter had moved to stand beside the couch. “What do you know? Tell us.”

  She shook her head.

  “If you know something…anything…you have to tell us,” Robert said gently.

  Her body convulsed and she raised her gaze to stare at her husband. Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” Karen sobbed.

  “What do you mean, darling? How can this be your fault?” Robert said.

  A shudder rattled through her, and she curled in closer to her husband.

  “She’s your sister, dammit!” Hunter yelled. “Tell us what you know.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper. “Not my sister.”

  “What was that?” Robert said, trying to position her so that his shoulder didn’t muffle her voice.

  “Nora is n-not my s-sister,” she said, struggling for words. “Sh-she’s my d-daughter.”

  Robert lurched back as if he’d been hit. Karen wrapped her own arms around herself in misery.

  Hunter gasped, shocked by the confession. Nora is Karen’s daughter? Nora couldn’t possibly know, could she? Was that why Karen seemed so upset by Nora’s disappearance? Had Nora found out? Had they had a fight and she took off?

  “Your daughter?” Robert raked a hand through his hair and stared at her.

  She nodded. “My daughter.” She said it stronger this time, with more pride than fear. It was as if, finally after thirty-five years, she was relieved to tell the truth.

  Hunter turned away from Robert and Karen. This was something they’d have to sort out themselves and he wanted to give them a few moments of privacy. He also needed some time to clear his own head, to try to see what relevance this information could have to Nora’s supposed disappearance.

  He moved to a table that held an assortment of photographs. What the…?

  He picked up the picture frame and stared down at a very young Karen holding a baby, Nora he presumed. “Is this like the photo that was stolen from Nora’s apartment?” he asked.

  “That’s the original. I had identical copies made, and bought matching frames.”

  “Copies? There’s more than two?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes,” Karen sighed. “There’s a third.”

  ****

  Nora stared at Gary lumbering toward her. His gait was clumsy as he tried to hurry. Her heart pounded furiously.

  He has my photo? How is that possible?

  Her head was telling her to get away, run very quickly, that she was in danger. Yet she didn’t move. She couldn’t believe that this man, who had always instilled in her a sense of calm, could be a real danger to her. Besides, she wanted an explanation.

  “Where did you get this? Did you steal it from my apartment? Are you the one responsible for the break-ins?” Another thought suddenly occurred to her. The shooting. She looked around quickly to check for signs of a gun.

  “It’s not what you think. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

  “This is my picture. How did you get it?”

  “It’s not your picture.” Gary sounded desperate. “Open it up. Look at the back.”

  She eyed him suspiciously, but did as he said. She wasn’t sure what it was going to prove. She had never looked at the back of her own copy—she’d barely looked at the front. How would she know if this one was any different from hers? It looked the same. It had the same frame.

  “She should never have sent it to me, of course,” Gary said, gripping the back of the couch. “I don’t even know how she got it through the security net. But I look at it every day. Cherish it. My one and only contact with my past.”

  There was a metallic clattering and the sound of shattering glass as her trembling fingers dropped the frame. She turned over the photograph.

  My darling Thomas,

  Meet our beautiful Nora.

  Be safe.

  I’ll love you forever,

  Karen

  Nora felt dizzy. Who the hell was Thomas? And why would Karen send him a photo of them? Of her? “I don’t understand.”

  “Sit down, please Nora. I’ll try to explain everything.” He rounded the couch and slumped down heavily at one end.

  Nora sat at the other end, clinging to the photograph. “Who’s Thomas?”

  He smiled. “I am. Or rather, I was. I was born Thomas King, and I grew up in Shiprock.”

  “Then who’s Gary Smith?”

  “No one, actually. Smith is the first name that popped into my head when I met you. Not very original, is it? For the last thirty-odd years I’ve been going by the name Gary Trenholm.”

  “Why would you make up a name when we met?”

  “You have to understand, Nora, I never intended to meet you—to speak with you. I just wanted to see you.”

  She felt an icy chill, remembering the sense of being watched, first a
long the path by the Santa Fe River after her disastrous brunch with Karen, and then again just before she was shot in Albuquerque. “You’ve been stalking me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then what do you mean? And why the false name?” Her head was pounding, and her body was rigid from frustration. What was going on? What did it mean?

  “You usually stopped at the coffee shop on your way to work. I would wait for you to leave before I would go in myself. After all these years, it was enough just to see you from a distance—to know that you were real, and you were all right. But that day, the day we met, you were later than usual. I panicked when you came to talk to me. I didn’t want you to be able to find me, so I made up the name Smith.”

  “That doesn’t explain the Thomas King to Gary Trenholm transition. Or the photo. Why do you have this? And why did you want to meet me?”

  “Uhm, yes. Well, that’s a much longer story. I think your pasta is done, and I’m starving. Can we talk while we eat?”

  Nora wasn’t the least bit hungry, but the act of serving up dinner gave her something to do while she tried to calm the whirling thoughts in her head.

  She dropped the plate in front of Gary—Thomas. She was having trouble adjusting to his new name.

  “Okay, dinner’s served. Talk.”

  “Are you always so direct?” he asked, chuckling softly to himself. “Just like Karen. You remind me so much of her. At least, how I remember her.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We’re nothing alike.”

  He shrugged and picked up his fork, clutching it in his shaky fist. She steeled herself from going to help him.

  “I met Karen when she was sixteen. She and some friends had come to a party in Shiprock. A lot of the kids from Farmington would come to Shiprock to party.”

  Nora nodded, remembering her own excursion—and her parents’ over-reaction to it.

  “She was beautiful. So full of life. So ready to change the world. I fell in love with her instantly. And it was crazy, but she seemed to feel the same way about me.”

  He took a forkful of pasta and closed his eyes while he chewed it slowly. Nora wondered if he was savoring the food or his memories. Her stomach was churning so violently she couldn’t contemplate the thought of eating.