The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: Seeking Others

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  The next day, Wednesday, Aimee spent time cleaning up. Joseph found some clothes in his parents’ closet that seemed to fit both her and Dylan, since they lost their suitcases in the crash. She also spent hours traveling between the bed and the comfortable chair and Ottoman in their room, catching up on the cheesy romance she had packed. Dylan got stir-crazy sitting in the room so he took to hiking around Joseph's farm, snooping around in the barn looking at all of the antique farm implements, and feeding the animals. He even walked down the road to Dr. Payne's farm to visit. Aimee heard Joseph a couple times wandering around the house, going in and out of rooms, and then occasionally the back door opening and shutting, but their paths didn't cross. She didn't like being in the house with Joseph while Dylan was out scouting the countryside. Anyway, it was hard enough being in a room full of photos of Joseph.

  Thursday couldn't arrive fast enough. Sore, but moving a tad better doped up on the pain medication Dr. Payne had given her to get through until she could see Dr. Miller, Aimee hobbled out of the bedroom. Dylan was right behind toting her backpack, the only thing besides Aimee that Joseph managed to pull out of the car before it caught on fire. Fortunately it had their passports and Aimee’s phone in it at the time of the crash.

  Dr. Payne greeted them as they came out of their bedroom. “Good morning! Are ye two ready for the big trip back to the States?”

  Dylan answered, “Yes, sir. We're ready to go.”

  “There's been a change of plans,” revealed Dr. Payne.

  Aimee looked at Dylan, and he looked at Aimee. Both of them had the same expression. Together they asked, “A change of plans?”

  “Yes, a change of plans,” replied Dr. Payne. “I'll be taking ya to the airport.”

  Again they both looked puzzled at each other. Dylan asked before Aimee could, “So, what happened to Joseph? I thought he was going to London today for business and would drop us off at the airport?”

  “Well, yes, as I said, there's a change of plans. Seems that Timothy got a rather urgent request yesterday to return to the University. He had been doing some research that only he could complete. They have been after him for months now to return, and I guess it was imperative he return today. He felt he couldn't say no this time.”

  “We were hoping to thank him for his hospitality, and to thank him for...well, for...” Aimee stopped. She couldn't finish so Dylan jumped in.

  “Yes, there's no way we can really thank him for what he did, for saving Aimee, but we wanted him to know that we are eternally grateful.”

  Dr. Payne smiled as he patted Dylan's shoulder. “I'm sure Timothy knows. Perhaps someday you can come back to visit Briar Farm, and hopefully see the rest of the sites you didn't get to see.” Dr. Payne winked at Aimee and added, “Just make sure that Dylan drives.”

  **********

  Dylan jumped out of Dr. Payne's car and headed into the terminal to get a wheelchair. Dr. Payne and Aimee stayed in the car. He waited until Dylan disappeared through the doors, then he pulled an envelope out of his jacket and reached across the console. He set it on her lap.

  Aimee peered down at the envelope. “What's this?” she asked before looking at Dr. Payne.

  “Timothy wanted me to give this to you. A little good-bye something or other, but he wanted me to make sure ya knew it was for your eyes only, if ya get his drift,” he said with one eyebrow raised.

  She looked up and noticed Dylan coming their direction pushing a wheelchair. Quickly, Aimee stuffed the envelope into her backpack. Just then Dylan opened her door and held out his hand for her to take. Dr. Payne came around the front of the car. He extended his hand, and Dylan shook it and said, “Well, Dr. Payne, thank you so much for all you did for us, and be sure to let Joseph know, too.”

  “I will,” he said with a twinkle in his voice. “God speed, son. Take care of her. Make sure she gets to see her doctor when you get home.” He dropped Dylan's hand, then without a hint or a warning, he leaned over and gave Aimee a kiss on her forehead. “It was a pleasure meeting ya, young lady.”

  Dr. Payne watched them head into the terminal. Aimee looked back one more time. He waved.

  **********

  “Omigod, Marie Aimee!” Dad exclaimed as he raced down the porch steps and greeted Aimee at her door before Dylan could put the FJ into Park. “Here, let me help you out.”

  “Dad...Dad, I'm okay. I can get out by myself.” But her dad wasn't wavering. The stress of the past week, by himself, waiting for them to return from England, unable to do anything but wait and worry, was obvious on his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, despite Dylan's daily calls with updates that Aimee was doing better.

  “Sweetheart, can I hug you?”

  She didn't have the heart to say no. Aimee was still upset with him, but if her most recent near-death incident had taught her anything, it was that life was short, and it could be cut even shorter in the second it took for a tire to blow. She needed to try to forgive, or at least be sociable. After all, he was the only parent Aimee really had.

  Aimee answered, “Yes, but watch the right shoulder.”

  Like she was a china teacup, he eased his hands delicately around Aimee's arms, and drew her easily into his body, cheek to cheek. Moisture fell from his eyes onto her shoulder. She broke too. With her good arm, Aimee patted Dad's back. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Before he let go, Dad whispered, “I love you, Amos.”

  She whispered back, “I know, Dad. I love you, too.”

  He kissed her wet cheek, then wiped at his eyes.

  Zonker's frantic barking caught Aimee's attention. He was waiting impatiently for her at the front window. Dylan shook Aimee's dad's hand briefly. “Mike, I'm sorry...”

  Dad interrupted, “No, Dylan, no apologies. Thank you for taking care of my little girl and getting her safely home.”

  Dylan answered, “Yes, sir, you don't know how glad we are to be home.” He grabbed Aimee's hand, a smile spread from ear to ear, and they started slowly up the sidewalk with Dad right behind toting her backpack.

  She grinned at Dylan. “I guess we better get inside and say hello to Z Boy before the whole neighborhood complains about his barking.”

  Chapter 3 Not Guilty

  Aimee's attorney called her to approach the bench. Before sitting, she had to take the oath to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Of course she wanted to tell the truth, but she couldn't tell all of the truth from that horrible night. After his questioning, it was Jordan Sims's attorney's turn.

  “Miss Schmidt,” the defense attorney continued after a few minutes of intense drilling, “did you see the face of the person driving the truck that night?”

  She took a few seconds, then answered, “No, sir, I couldn't see the person well. It was dark and I was trying to keep my eyes on the road.”

  The defense attorney quizzed, “So then, how was it that you were able to identify my client - he looked back and gestured towards Jordan - when you report now you couldn't see the face of the person driving?”

  He paced slowly back and forth in front of the jury. Aimee looked at Randi Sims's cousin sitting at the defense table. In his shirt and tie he looked so different from the night she first saw him at the party. There he was loud, drunk, and stoned. Having a great time celebrating my death, she presumed. But now he was giving Aimee a look that gave her the willies, and his cousin, Randi, and the other two in the Loser Circle, Brandi and Nicole, were sitting behind him, giving her the same menacing stare.

  Before answering she looked at Dylan, Dad, and James, all sitting in the front row behind the prosecution table. Without a doubt, she knew it was him, the person driving the huge, white truck, and who intentionally ran her off the road. He was one of the two boys at the party, and the only boy at the party and in the lineup with dark hair, so it had to be him. But it was true, she hadn't really seen him in the truck. Only Aimee did see a male with dark hair driving so she answered, “I didn't see his face that night, but I did look over
long enough to know it was a young male with dark hair, and there was only one male with dark hair in the lineup.”

  “Hmm, a young male with dark hair, and you believe there is only one young male in Oregon with dark hair driving a white truck, Miss Schmidt?” he asked, an air of arrogance in his query, as he stopped and looked at the jury, then back to Aimee.

  “No, sir, but I was informed that one of the males in the lineup had a father who owned a large white truck with a black front guard. I did identify the truck that ran me off the road from a series of photos. Anyway, I know the person I saw had dark hair, and the only person in the lineup with dark hair was him,” she answered and pointed towards Jordan Sims, the person on trial for attempted murder.

  The attorney replied, “Yet, we already have testimony putting him at a party in Grants Pass at the time of your misfortune. So, how could my client be in two places at the same time?” He peered intensely at Aimee, then back to the jury.

  Aimee waited for a few seconds, then answered, “I don't know, but I know it had to be him.”

  The defense attorney replied, “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  Aimee's legs felt like cooked spaghetti when she stood to take her seat. Dylan smiled at her and mouthed, “I love you.” She forced a smile, then sighed warily.

  Four hours later, the jury returned with a verdict. In an unanimous count decision; Not Guilty. And since Jordan was found not guilty, Randi, Brandi, and Nicole got off, too, not enough evidence to prove a planned conspiracy to murder Aimee, even though the black Lexus that had been stalking her happened to belong to Randi's parents. Brandi didn't get off completely. She had to do some community service for her MIP when she was dumped totally polluted at the ER that night.

  The three men escorted Aimee to her car following the trial. They all walked in silence, despite the anger boiling underneath the surface. It was hard to believe he got off scot-free. Actually, all four got off, but she knew it wasn't over. Despite not having to pay for what they did to her, they would try again, some day, some way, to get revenge. Brandi's heart was black. Evil. Her absence of guilt, at least legally, wouldn't stop her until she got what she wanted – to hurt Aimee for taking her boyfriend.

  After an eternity, Aimee sucked in a long breath and broke the awkward quiet. “Well, I know it's not what we wanted, but at least it's over. I'm ready to get on with my life, and hopefully when we get to Eugene...” She paused and looked at Dylan, then continued, “...we can forget this ever happened.”

  Dylan squeezed her hand and added, “Yeah, hopefully, but you know what they say about people who get away with something bad?”

  “No, what?” asked James.

  “What goes around, comes around. They'll get theirs someday,” Dylan stated with an unsettling tone.

  Dad quipped, “Yeah, and I'd like to be the one to give it to them.”

  “Dad!” exclaimed Aimee. “No, all of you. Let it go. It's over. The jury decided. This didn't happen to you. So, let it go so I can get over this.”

  The three men looked at each other, then at Aimee. No one said anything else, but she knew none of them would let it go. She didn't really believe she would either.

  A couple weeks of not working and nothing to do except hanging out with Dylan was really nice, but they both were growing anxious about their move to Eugene. Dylan had to be there for training camp in early August, so even though Dad tried his best to get her to stay until at least the middle of September, Aimee decided to go early. She wanted to be up there with Dylan. Dad decided to throw a Going Away party to give them a memorable send-off. James and Sacha were coming down to help Aimee move her stuff, so the weekend she was leaving, Dad, Dr. Morris, and Mel had a barbecue, Texas style, at Mel's airport. The weather was perfect for the first of August, and the plentiful summer rains made the landscape from the air look like patches of green velvet intermingled with burlap sacks. Dylan had never flown in a two-seater. Dad hadn’t been released yet to fly since his heart attack, so Mel treated him to his first ride, and then Mel, who had been more like Aimee's uncle, took her up. After the plane was put in the hanger, Dad and Mel brought out an ice chest full of beer and other assorted non-alcoholic drinks. Aimee had never had more than communion wine, but Mel popped open a beer and handed it to her, and one for Dylan. With a big grin, Mel said, “Just one, and not another until your thirtieth birthday.” Ten minutes later, after Dad and Mel's heart-felt toasts, Aimee realized this was it. Her childhood was officially over, and the life she knew for the past fourteen years was coming to an end. She would always be Dad's little girl and Mel's favorite flying buddy, but Aimee was leaving to start a new life. She fought back the tears while everyone clinked their beer bottles together to finish the toast.

  The next morning, with Aimee's car stuffed as full as she could get it, plus James's back seat crammed full, and Dylan pulling a small, tightly packed trailer, the convoy of University of the Cascades bound Bears set off. Aimee watched Dad in the rearview mirror. He moved from the driveway to the middle of the street, hand in hand with Dr. Morris who was waving with her free hand, while Dad, holding on to Zonker's leash with the other hand, stretched his hand high in the air and waved. Aimee hung her arm out the window waving until she turned at the intersection to head to I-5. Suddenly, the dam broke, and tears flooded down her cheeks.

  Just then Aimee's cell phone rang. She tapped her bluetooth; a going-away present from Dad which she promised to always use while driving. Dylan was on the other end. “You okay?” he asked.

  She sniffled before answering. The wavering in her voice was obvious. “I'm...okay. You?”

  Dylan answered, “Okay, too. Hell, I didn't think it was gonna be this hard leaving parents, friends, and even Medford, but you know, we're only a hundred miles away, and we'll come home to visit, and our parents will come to Eugene for the games. It'll be good. I promise.”

  Aimee repeated, “You promise?”

  “Yep, I promise. And I promised Mike I would take care of you, so don't make me break my promise to your ol' man, all right?”

  “All right. No more drama. From here on out, I won't make anyone worry about me. I promise.”

  Aimee had a lot of stuff to unpack when they finally got to James and Sacha's apartment. Dylan stayed for a while to help, then he had to get to the dorms to get checked in. The official start of football kicked off tomorrow for him. He was pumped. He had trained for this time since he was five. Aimee knew she wouldn't get to be with him much now that preseason practice was beginning, but it would give her time to get settled, to learn her way around town, get her schedule and buy books, and find a part-time job. Unlike Dylan, she wasn't there on an athletic scholarship. Her ride was on her dad so her resources were limited. She needed a job to help pay her share of the rent, food, utilities, cell phone, and hopefully have enough left to buy a ticket to all of the home games. Aimee knew Dylan wanted her at all of the games and would gladly shell out the money if she was broke, but Aimee didn't want to depend on him to financially support her, even though they were in a serious relationship. Anyway, she had saved some money from the years in high school she worked at the bookstore. Plus, Aimee's dad didn't have a lot of money, but he wouldn't let James or her struggle.

  Shortly after lunch on that first day in Eugene, Aimee decided to go to the bookstore to buy her books. It felt creepy when she walked upstairs into the same room that she had been a half year earlier when she traveled, and where the young female worker had narrowly escaped being fatally maimed by the meth-head. Aimee slowly made it over to the wall where she last saw the girl. The blood stain was gone. It suddenly reminded Aimee she hadn't been on a mission since her trip in England. Her injuries from that travel were nearly healed. Dr. Miller threatened Aimee with surgery if she didn't listen to him and take it easy. Aimee behaved. She figured she would give it a couple more weeks before running again. Maybe she might take up marathons. Training would force her to keep in shape, and fill in the time she couldn't be w
ith Dylan. Fortunately, Aimee hadn't had any of the normal signs of an impending mission since returning to Oregon. She needed some time to completely mend before being sent on another one.

  The bookstore was fairly empty so Aimee cruised through taking her time to look at books. School didn't start until the end of September, but she wanted to make sure she had all of her books ahead of time so she could get a jump on reading. Her dad suggested since it was Aimee's first quarter in college, and she would be working part-time, that she take a light load. Dr. Morris strongly backed his suggestion so Aimee agreed to take it easy. Still, she had plenty of time to get a head start with her courses. She was taking a light load, but the courses weren't lightweight. Aimee found two of the books she needed for her chemistry class and lab. After reaching into her backpack, Aimee pulled out her wallet, grabbed a magazine, stuck it in the basket with the books, and then she strolled by the UC paraphernalia. She didn't have any UC t-shirts. She found a couple in her size and threw them into the basket, too. Her basket felt heavy so she figured she had enough to carry. She still couldn't handle too much weight with her right arm. When Aimee got to the register, a couple of girls were ahead of her, and a person was in front of them. Aimee checked out the items hanging at the end of the register while she waited. The girls were discussing their upcoming classes. Aimee couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

  One of the girls asked, “What classes are you taking this quarter?”

  The other stated, “English, geography, anthropology, and trig.”

  The first girl mentioned, “Hey, I'm taking anthropology, too.”

  “Which course?” asked the second girl.

  The first girl responded, “161.”

  “Me, too!” the other responded excitedly.

  So the first girl asked, “Do you know who's teaching it?”

  “Someone named Small, or Smith, maybe, I don’t remember,” responded the second.