The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next. So close to his ear that her soft, but firm words actually tickled him while they simultaneously shocked him.

  “Take me with you. I want to meet her…I want to help.”

  __________________________________________________________

  Johnnie jumped and Mary sighed when the telephone rang, filling the room with a disruptive clangor. They both knew this signaled the end of an extraordinary and rare moment between them.

  Mary stood and scooped up her cigarette pack as she headed to the end table where the relic of a phone rested; it was large and heavy, not cordless – it was remarkable that it even bore push buttons as opposed to a rotary dial.

  Johnnie used the interruption to go to the restroom, mostly to escape and synchronize her surging thoughts and emotions. She closed the door as she heard her mother speak loudly into the phone as if her caller had rung from Hong Kong.

  She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering how she could look so normal. How could anyone feel exhausted, wired, relieved and filled with dread, all at once? She rubbed her face briskly, considering the word which could possibly describe the inward raging tsunami; that one weird word which was rarely appropriate; discombobulated. Releasing her cheeks and nose, she was, again, amazed that her reflection could look so un-discombobulated.

  She pushed the crazy wisps of dark blonde hair away from her face with one hand, and turning on the hot water spigot with the other, figuring if she looked the way she felt, the mirror would likely display something straight out of a Picasso gallery.

  “Johnnie, are you alright in there?!” The loud voice right outside the bathroom door caused her to shoot water past her face, splattering it everywhere.

  “Fine, Mom!” She hollered back with equally unnecessary volume. It felt so much more natural to address her mother with irritation than dependent love. She could handle this.

  “That was James…” Mary yelled. “He’s sending a car over to take you to the city and I think that’s prudent…”

  Johnnie cringed at her mother’s screeching and opened the door to Mary, who instantly lowered her tenor to finish, “…under the circumstances.”

  Did the woman think she required outrageous decibels in some sort of compensation if she couldn’t see the person with whom she spoke? Now the two stood face to face.

  Regarding her mother with curiosity rather than exasperation, Johnnie leaned on the door casing. The hair, the bad make-up, the invisible, but certain wisps of smoke emitting from the pores – these were elements which would probably frighten most small children and a few sheltered adults. But, at this moment, they were oddly comforting to Johnnie, who was apparently still caught in the tidal wave of emotion.

  “Mom, you make me understand the term, Muskrat Love.” She knew this made no sense whatsoever, but it made her smile instantly, just as it made her mother scowl and stride away, patting her lumpy head, swinging her half burned Camel in a wide arc with the other.

  “I offer you the most sacred of love, and you compare it to a parasite. May God help us all!”

  “A rodent, Mom, not a parasite…haven’t you ever heard that… Oh, never mind.” And with her best imitation of her mother and her mother’s millions of neighbors, she flipped her hand out and down, saying, “Fahgit about it!”

  Jesus, Johnnie thought to herself. No wonder she was crazy.

  Johnnie walked into James’ office, or rather, his domain. He was on the phone with his back to her. He faced an expansive window with all of Manhattan spread in the view before him as he spoke energetically, apparently as much with his free hand as with his very highly paid mouth. Him standing there, the beautiful contemporary suite with a panoramic vantage of the city and water reminded her more of a photo spread in Fortune 500 than what one would expect when dropping in on their brother at work. The one thing that was not like all the others (the Sesame Street song ran through her head), was, ironically, the man himself. The guy behind the “The Power that is You” legend.

  James Cain stood in the midst of every tangible sign of great success, yet wore faded Levi 501 jeans and an AC/DC tee shirt. Johnnie couldn’t see his shoes, but would bet they were Adidas… James’ preferred footwear since he earned the money to buy his first pair as a young teen. Although you’d never know it by looking at him now, Johnnie knew her brother cared about the things which concerned her very little…labels, status and visible success. Oddly, he was not superficial in these tendencies, he worked for all he had, but he apparently had never forgotten the days when such things weren’t within reach.

  In the heat of the discussion, James spun around with a grandiose gesture and spotted his sister standing alone and looking quite small in the expanse of the office. Her hair was out of whack and her hoodie sweat shirt had slid off of one shoulder; when she smiled, he half expected a tooth or two to be missing because at that moment she looked six years old again. His intense game-face reshaped into one of delight. He immediately told the person on the other end that he had a priority visitor, ended the call and closed the distance between the two of them with a few short strides. Before Johnnie knew it, she was being slung around like an ill-prepared dance partner.

  If there was one thing James Cain was not short on, it was enthusiasm.

  “My God, it’s good to see you! Sit down…want something to drink? Sorry about the mess with Mom, but I guessed we needed to get that out of the way and we were both pretty worried…”

  He was a tall, fit man, but his presence had less to do with his physical size than his personality, or accurately, his aura. James literally filled the room with his essence. Johnnie was still a little light-headed from the unexpected spin and reached out to a near-by chair for balance, but she never took her eyes off him. They’d been distant in the past years even with occasional conversations and e-mail; he checked on her very regularly, but they hadn’t shared their lives. Their learned independence had served them both well, but she only now realized how much she’d missed him.

  He grabbed her hand and led her to a glass table near one of the massive windows while, almost on cue, a professional-looking young man brought a tray with water, tea and fresh fruit. He flashed a warm smile and left the room. She marveled that this “helper” looked far more like a wealthy professional than a lackey, remembering how impressed she’d been with all of James’ house staff as well. She needed to get back down to earth…feet-on-the-ground was an important concept to her sanity these days.

  “Dressing for success?” she asked skeptically. He glanced down and his already large smile spread.

  “Hey…I’m the boss. Besides, I just flew in this morning and wanted to get here to put out fires so I could spend the day with you, unless you had other plans?”

  “James, I’d love that. And even though your ‘arrangements’ for me were truly plush, you still owe me…” How any could man smile that much, she wondered as he roared with laughter, raising his hands in a ‘guilty as charged’ posture.

  “I don’t know why I couldn’t have had ‘the discussion’ with you first. If you were really worried about me, why was the one-way trip to mother’s lair so important?” She’d transformed herself into Mary with the last sentence, Brooklyn-ese, animated hands, single raised eyebrow and all.

  James poured water into glasses, smiling in a way that suggested he was imagining the entire exchange.

  “Well, you could see it as my gift of perspective, considering everything that must be happening with you right now…anyone who thinks life is jacked up can end up being grateful for sliced bread after an hour with Maa-ry.” He’d mimicked their mother as well, with the pronunciation of her name. But his expression changed after he slid a glass to Johnnie and locked eyes with her.

  “She may be a lot of things, but she is our mother. And maybe now you understand that while she may have a bat or two loose in the belfry, she’s not as self-absorbed as it seemed.”

  The two held the gaze and Johnn
ie felt the first inkling of a life-line, the almost-hope of a rescue at sea from her recent weeks of being so lost and confused. Kinship and understanding were things she desperately needed, but she couldn’t ignore the spark of anger in the pit of her stomach.

  His hand was still on the glass and she placed hers over his. Her cheeks flushed and she said in a low, controlled voice, “James, how could you guys just leave me in the dark on this…you have no idea…” Unexpected emotion rushed and she felt her jaw clench in effort to pace her words.

  Always expressive, James’ face emitted enormous empathy as he continued to look into her eyes. He didn’t attempt to escape the heat she flung in his direction.

  “Johnnie, I won’t even try to understand what you’ve been through or to excuse what must seem like betrayal to you…but she made me promise to keep my mouth shut. It seemed like it had all stopped anyway and Mom was sure you didn’t understand or remember anything. I can’t say I disagree with the fact that it was wonderful to see you live a happy and normal life, for once. We just wanted to let this work…”

  “…just let things roll and hope for the best? Don’t you think a little warning would have been nice before I was in …well, the Twilight Zone, with no remote control?!” She took her hand from him, but instantly regretted her outburst; she wanted to be here with him...and she wasn’t really angry. What would she have done in his shoes?

  “Johnnie…that’s why I checked on you all the time. I know that’s not enough but I can’t say I’d do it any differently now.” He looked directly at her, pressing his lips together. He spontaneously raised his hands in surrender. It was all he had and like his other communication, it was one hundred percent him; she knew he meant it.

  She shook her head and raised her hands too, signifying a truce. She was not in a position to alienate him or any ally right now, and, besides, she loved this guy.

  “What are we doing today?” She asked him, wanting badly to move past the speed bump she’d just imposed.

  James, large in every way, pushed his wheeled chair back with his long legs and used those same spidery appendages to maneuver his chair around the end of the table, turning her chair so they were knee to knee. He grabbed both of her hands with obvious excitement.

  “We can go wherever you want, but what we’re going to do, my sister-the-saver-of-others, is figure out how to save you!” He ended the statement as if it were the most amazing plan conceivable…and utterly plausible.

  She leaned back from him a bit, regarding his pure enthusiasm. He looked like a mad inventor on the verge of a magnificent discovery like, oh, fire or nuclear fusion. His grin was a little wild, but joyous, and the light in his eyes led Johnnie to a clear conclusion; he was just as crazy as Mary.

  But…she cautioned herself with a quick glance at her surroundings. James knew how to make things happen just to prove it was possible, while Mary’s specialties were apparently damage control and guilt management. If there was ever a time in her life to be proactive rather than reactive, it was now. Mary had done her part…and James was next out of the chute.

  But the most prominent difference between her mom and James, she thought, as she looked back at his relentless excited stare, was that while she loved them both, she really liked him.

  Margaret Beulah Turner was remembered with grace at her large funeral in Bloomington, Illinois. In her prime, she had been a woman of prominence as an education administrator, and her family had been well rooted in the community for decades.

  Byron was the ultimate behind-the-scenes support man for Margie throughout the week and the role suited him well. He’d never been particularly socially acceptable; his eccentricities had made him a popular teacher and a decent fit on the tabloid staff, but he was not a smooth front-man in more formal settings. Marg, however, was eloquent, and due to her upbringing, her social graces were superior.

  The two struck a perfect balance to manage Marg Senior’s affairs. Byron remained close by to ensure his wife wasn’t overwhelmed, but believed that although grieving, Marg was actually experiencing a healthy transition throughout the week. The interaction with others, the planning and execution of necessary events, and the independence of being out and about as Margie Hoffstedder was exactly what she needed to extract the fatigue and depression she’d experienced from many months of caretaking her ailing mother. She had unwittingly lost her identity and reclaiming that role was the best medicine an independent woman such as she could ask for.

  Byron aided in every way possible, but mainly, he sat back in awe of the amazing woman who, for some reason, had chosen and stayed with him for most of their lives. If possible, he loved her more, during those days, than ever and her recent request to join him in his passion was not lost on him.

  Byron had assumed they would be tied up for some time, dealing with estate issues, as well as securing a home for themselves; they had sold theirs when Margie moved in with her mother and he took the job with the Constellation. Margie, surprised that her husband wouldn’t have already realized the state of affairs, gently informed her husband that her mother had left everything she had to her only daughter in a trust, so there was no probate…no legal hurdles. The estate included the large and very well maintained family home and all associated property, as well as a sizable inheritance which consisted largely of old, family money.

  When she broke the news, his expression of disbelief endeared him to her even more; she loved her husband, but he could be so unaware of the obvious at times.

  “Byron, we’re actually quite wealthy now.” She snootily pursed her lips and extended her pinky while taking small sip of milk from a plastic cup. Deep in her heart, she would have traded the entire fortune for the return of her mother, her mother’s health, her mother’s presence. But, always a realist, she was poised to move forward. In fact, she longed to move forward.

  Byron was flabbergasted. They had been teachers their whole adult lives, living on modest salaries. Their inability to have children of their own was a bitter fate, but it had probably lent to a better financial standing for the two of them over the years. He was an honest and simple man; while he knew his wife came from a prominent family, he had truly never seen this as an element for financial planning. It would have surprised him far less if Marg Senior had left everything to charity.

  It appeared they would be free, in many ways, to resume the “Johnnie Carter Project,” as Margie began to call his ventures, much sooner than he had surmised. In their short discussion, they agreed driving would be more fun and probably cheaper than flying, although they could apparently afford that option, if needed.

  Toward the end of the week, he tried to refocus on the case he’d dropped cold the week before. He hadn’t heard Johnnie’s voicemail until a few days after his mother-in-law’s death, and while disappointed, he simply saved it for further action once things slowed down.

  He needed to reattempt contact with her as well as decide where to go with the extensive background information. The problem was, of course, he found himself questioning his motivations now and wondered why he was driven to continue this chase. He shared this with his wife, late one night.

  Margie’s views on the venture had altered dramatically since the distant night she made the deflating comment to him regarding the value of “hope.” Certainly, guilt for that comment and her previous ambivalence toward his work were partial factors in her attitude adjustment; but there was more.

  After Margie had learned how many pieces of information seemed to fall into Byron’s lap, she was intrigued by the possibility of outside influence. As practical as she was, she did believe in a higher power and she was not a fan of the concept of coincidence. Although it would take time for her to become as involved as Byron, the entire affair had a quality that appealed very strongly to a woman who’d led such a conservative life. She let her husband know, under no uncertain terms, that she was game for anything. Although she hadn’t helped him answer his own questions as to why they should proceed
, her enthusiasm was good enough rationale for him.

  He figured since they had nothing to lose, they should start strong. He prepared for his next communication with Johnnie Carter, and short of a successful contact with her, he planned two key interviews for the immediate future. He wanted to visit Wei Liang, who lived a matter of miles from their current location…and, thanks to the background information compliments of young Jason Barker, he had what he needed to attempt an interview with Mary Carter.

  Let the games begin.

  Since James left their day’s activities up to Johnnie, she opted for a lunch out, a run together and a sight-seeing drive around the city; basically she sought the things she’d missed most during her plight. She knew a big discussion regarding a “plan” for her salvation was looming, but she wanted respite for the first hours of the day so they could enjoy each other’s company. She wanted to feel safe and understood for the first time in weeks. Although she was never “safe” from a “messiah-attack” as she and James dubbed her black-outs, between his knowledge of the issues and the fact that she wasn’t alone, she felt perfectly secure in his company.

  They did talk about the generalities of the situation throughout the day, particularly during their run. She was very grateful that, unlike their mother, he wasn’t at all interested in the dirty details of the recent “attacks;” it was enough for him to know that the nature of the events were similar to when she was a child – and that it resulted in the loss of her military career. His disposition hinted that he was eager to take on the situation; he was a man of initiative and action, both traits likely spawned during their suppression in younger years.

  He was adamant about the fact that she should be accompanied at all times until they got to the bottom of it all, and she took that opportunity to tell him about her near-arrangement with Sandy. He wasted no time gathering Sandy’s contact information to arrange his rendezvous with Betsy and assist in any other way possible. Johnnie had been extremely self-sufficient her entire adult life, but she was so exhausted by her strained solidarity, she allowed James to do his thing, and was completely at ease with it all. He made and received calls all day and she suspected that at least a couple of the calls had something to do with her friends…of the two and three-legged variety.