The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  To save the aggravation of driving and parking, James had a driver take them around the city. His fitness club was obviously elite and she didn’t dare ask if he owned or rented the penthouse apartment where he stayed when in Manhattan, and where he urged her to camp out while in town.

  They were at a corner hot dog stand, her chosen lunch spot. She needed to back away from “the posh,” and he seemed eager to comply. As he paid with a one hundred dollar bill, she turned to him and asked him just how rich he was, anyway. He thought for a moment, and asked her, “In money or blessings? Well…never mind, the answer is pretty close to the same. So, specifically, or ballpark?” He was loading his dog with every condiment on the stand.

  She wondered if he was that liberal with onions when out on a date as she piled some of the same on her own growing mess. She considered his question and answered, “Ballpark.”

  He looked a little guilty, then smiled, giving her one word.

  “Filthy.”

  She nodded.

  “Fair enough.” She felt uncharacteristically at ease riding this wave as long as James accommodated. The truth was, he seemed to enjoy indulging her more than she enjoyed being indulged; and she enjoyed it immensely.

  Once at his apartment for the night, James mixed drinks and she knew it was time to see what he had on his mind. But as she dissolved into a plush leather recliner, she thought of the ancient furnishings in their mother’s modest flat.

  “I know this is really none of my business, Jimmy, but since you’re such a baron and are obviously pretty generous, why is Mom living over there, like that. Not that it’s poverty level or anything… but,” she kept her head and shoulders still--she was so very comfortable--but her eyes swept her surroundings, “you know, compared to this, she may as well be living in a cardboard Frigidaire box. Has she been here? I can’t believe she hasn’t booked a major guilt trip for this one. Oh, thank you…cheers!”

  He had handed her a large drink and she was pretty sure it was a good thing neither of them were driving. She half expected him to dump it on her head, as much as he loathed being called Jimmy, but he must have forgiven the indiscretion because he gave her question his full attention. As they toasted, she offered a quick, silent ‘thanks’ for the knowledge that she need not fear getting a bit tipsy tonight.

  He sat on an ottoman next to her, drink in hand. He could have chosen a twin recliner or the huge couch, but this was how James was. He was good and ready to communicate and he was incapable of casual exchange. He was mere few feet away from his sister, yet he still leaned toward her as he spoke.

  “You know all those years we didn’t really have a home-home, you know, like everyone else did?” He didn’t seem injured by the subject, he was quite matter of fact. She was very clear on what he meant, and it, as always, struck a nerve with her because her mother expected her home to be their “home” now. She reserved comment as he continued.

  “Well, she didn’t have a home either. She gave up her roots even though she wanted them worse than we did because she did have a place that she came from. Do you know what I mean?” He looked imploringly at Johnnie…the last question was a sincere query; he hadn’t asked in a way most did, as slang. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Johnnie’s drink had stopped at her lips when the meaning of his question hit home. She peered at him over the glass as she felt a pang of contrition. Since her mother, in effect, drove the moves, Johnnie never saw her as a victim too. Now, based on James’ statement, she realized it may have been even tougher on Mary than her children. James’ point was well taken…they hadn’t ever had a permanent home, so how could they have missed it? Mary had been Brooklyn, born and raised, yet she chose to leave it to protect her children from an unseen fate.

  James read her expression and his empathy was clear. He gave her a little smile and put a hand on her knee,

  “No guilt intended, Sis…my point is, yes, she’s seen this.” Taking a swallow from his drink, he gestured about the room with his eyes.

  “And I have offered her this and more…but she chose that. She lives there because, for her, that’s the home she missed. She’s where she wants to be and I think that’s fine.” He removed his hand, and waved it at the air, his large, easy smile returning as he set his drink on a glass and chrome end-table.

  “But I assure you, she wants for nothing. She knows how to push those buttons, and I’ve pretty much given her a full panel, if you know what I mean.”

  Johnnie’s smile was more thoughtful than humorous. This was a time of great learning, for sure, and she was no longer just learning about herself.

  Then she felt his gaze. She glanced at him, and he had that look. As in his office this morning, he looked ready to pounce. He was ready to fix, or create….or devise. But he was ready. She laughed and knew it was time to see what was going on in the galaxy he called a brain.

  “First of all, Young Frankenstein,” she wagged a finger at him, “I don’t dig the whole ‘savior/messiah’ terminology and I want you to know…Mom keeps bringing up Jesus…which is ludicrous…but, along that line, just so’s you know; that whole celibacy thing? It’s not going to happen.” James jumped on the comment immediately; he reminded her of a puppy who couldn’t resist the play.

  “What? You’ve agreed you can’t be alone with anyone…and family doesn’t count -- so does that mean you’ve taken to doing these things in public? I think our problems far exceed saving a few lives here and there….”

  She reached over to smack him, but he was too fast. He grabbed her hand and said more seriously, but eagerly,

  “We’ll do what you want and I will fund everything, but Sis…I think we need to find out what this is. Don’t you want to know?” Their hands were still locked, and she squeezed his and felt a rush of relief, trust and a little excitement.

  “Dude, more than life itself. I want more for it to just go away…but if I can’t make that happen, then, yes.”

  “Well…you can’t terminate a pest if you don’t know what it is, right? You can’t stop drinking till you know you’re an alcoholic. But those are all negative analogies…and honestly? I don’t think that’s how we should look at it…so, in a different light…. You can’t climb a mountain till you know it’s there, right?” He was pumped, and she snorted at his animation. But it was a little contagious. He noted her amusement, but as a student of people, he also sensed her interest.

  “Right? Before we can lick this…or before you can accept or whatever it is you need to do, we ought to at least see if we can figure it out, right?”

  She smiled and let go of his hand. No wonder he was such a crackerjack…he emitted energy and sincerity, and he was totally irresistible.

  “Yes.” She said, laughing with surrender, but also wanting, so badly, to believe they could figure this out.

  “OK. Well, I can’t make any promises, except that we’re going to use whatever contacts I can scrape up to investigate this thing. I want to help…but it’s your baby. We should…” He was interrupted by his phone and looked just a bit irritated at having his train of thought derailed. When he glanced at the caller I.D., however, he winked and told her he needed to take the call. He walked back to the bar with her glass in one hand, and the phone in the other. She hadn’t realized she’d downed the first drink so quickly, but stood to find a bathroom while he was on the phone.

  When she came out a few minutes later, he was off the phone and her glass was full. Anxious to continue their conversation, he told her quickly, “Sandy and Bessy...or Betsy?...anyway, they’ll fly in day after tomorrow…I’ll have someone take you to get them or I’ll send a car, cool? Anyway, I was thinking this…” He launched into a series of thoughts…all he lacked was a dry erase board and a lectern.

  Johnnie, still struck by the first bit of information, reached without looking, for her drink and marveled that this man was her brother. She listened first, then they talked. They brainstormed. And they planned.

  Wing would no
t have changed his recent actions…or controversial inaction, even if George Washington, himself channeled to him and told him to get off his ass and get on the offensive. He would have loved guidance from President Washington, of course, or from any source other than his gut…but he had never had a more overbearing sense of intuition in his life and every fiber of his being told him it was not emotionally based. But, while his resolve did not weaken, his credibility with even his staunchest supporters and advisors would wane, and quickly, if he failed to take their sound recommendations. And he needed to counter with a plan or, at least, a tangible reason for his stance. What was his stance, anyway? He rubbed his mouth worriedly and moved his attention to the PDB which lay in his lap.

  In the President’s Daily Brief, he learned that Britain, historically an ally with the U.S., was playing a courting game. The Brits were in the early, but aggressive stages of brokering a deal with Canada and India for future gas and oil resources. It made sense, he told himself…Canada was a commonwealth member, and Britain had been heavily invested in India forever. But the logical perspective he typically used to analyze objectively had lost its luster.

  What this was, was placement of another card on the precarious house of cards; another wooden block on the tense international game of Jenga. It was another small tornado spinning among others throughout the globe in a weather system which could easily spiral out of control.

  Wing questioned himself. He always believed one should look inward before ever looking outward when it came to accountability. He prayed, not questioning God, but asking for the peace and clarity he would need to be open to the answer. His faith insisted there would be an answer.

  He faced a day of meetings on predominantly domestic issues. But he knew, as he stepped through the door of his ever-propelling schedule that the world would spin and move and not wait for him. But he also knew there was something more. He was missing something and he didn’t know what.

  He acted and he waited, telling himself he was on God’s clock, not Wing’s…not China’s nor Pakistan’s, nor Israel’s. He’d just feel better if he could read that divine clock…and see the time, for he could surely hear it ticking.

  _____________________________________________________________________

  Initially Johnnie thought someone had glued her mouth shut. As consciousness crept around the eaves of her brain, she realized the roof of her mouth was able to separate from her tongue, but then wondered who had put a sock in there…or was it individual furry socks on her teeth? She began to roll over and winced, moving back to her original position since it felt as though most of the weight in her head belonged on that side. In the light of other recent mornings of slow painful wakening, she may have been apprehensive about her situation. Not so much this morning; she knew a good old fashioned hangover when she felt it. It’s very unfortunate when a severe hangover is preferable to another more frightening alternative.

  She may have just stayed in bed for a week or two, but her bladder was set on another course of action. Once she was able to sit without falling to the favored side, she hung her head and tried to remember what, exactly, James had infused her with, and how much.

  “Who the hell cares?” she asked herself, as she slid forward and hunker-walked toward her bathroom. Her bathroom. What was it James had said in response to her query on his wealth? Oh yes…filthy. He was filthy rich. Must have been an honest response considering she had her own room and bath again, in her second time as his guest this week.

  As her head cleared, she vaguely remembered seeing another room last night to which she could avail herself; James had a fully equipped workout studio as well. She might even use it today, she thought thickly, if she managed to survive the basic warm-ups of showering and power drinking a gallon or so of coffee. As if adding insult to injury, she realized a good part of her stiffness was due to the yesterday’s run with James. Her body could not have felt more alien.

  It was a little after nine A.M. and she appeared to have the place to herself. James had undoubtedly leapt out of bed, worked out and left for the office, even though he had easily imbibed as much as his little sister; she wasn’t sure if a hurricane could throw that man off track.

  If James had even been in the kitchen earlier, there was no evidence, but she found everything she needed to ensure survival; very strong coffee and a bagel. She longed for about a pound and a half of grease ala hole-in-the-wall diner, but she wasn’t about to go scouting on the streets of New York. James was apparently a very healthy eater judging by the contents of his refrigerator and cupboards. How very sad; she’d give her world for just one chicken fried steak or a slab of bacon…

  As she moved about the well-lighted penthouse, the previous evening’s conversation crept into her head. In spite of herself, she felt relief and excitement and really wanted her body to catch up with this feeling. Figuring she had nothing to lose but her bagel, she changed into shorts and headed for the treadmill which faced a huge window overlooking the east side of Manhattan. Of course there was bottled water next to the running machine, so she grabbed one and activated the moving belt.

  The first five minutes reminded Johnnie why one should not over indulge in alcohol for any reason and the second five reminded her why one shouldn’t take a multi-week break from exercising, regardless of the rationale. In the third five minutes, she began to feel that her Mojo may return after all and her mind’s awareness dominated over her body’s discomfort. After she settled into an easy pace, she reflected on her brainstorming session with her brother; she could remember it more clearly now.

  James had excellent ideas for trying to better understand her gift, as he called it. She still didn’t qualify it as a “gift,” but he reasoned with her to hold off on classifying the whole thing as a curse. They also had to agree to disagree on reasonable goals in their collaboration; she wanted to understand the thing so she could make it go away while he felt understanding would lead her to be able to use it for the good of others, while preserving and building herself.

  His whole world was built on the premise that all people had the inner power to experience greatness, but he stressed to her that true greatness or even happiness were not possible if one didn’t first give to others. When she attempted to throw down the red flag on his philosophy in the light of his indulgent lifestyle, he told her that he gave no less than forty percent of everything he earned to worthy causes; he further shut her up by insisting – with his characteristic enthusiasm, that the more he gave, the more he received.

  “You’ve heard the term ‘endless cycle?’” he asked, and to her horror, she detected an actual twinkle in his eye. “Well this is not only an endless cycle, but one that grows and takes on a life of its own. I have nothing to gain by telling you anything but the truth…and this truth defines my whole life, Johnnie.”

  He pointed out that her “gift” was already helping others, whether she liked it or not, thus, he was convinced that if harnessed, it could continue to do so…only not at her expense. And in that light, he believed she could experience peace and happiness in the process. While Johnnie could hardly challenge the success her brother’s belief system had brought him, she did not feel at all convinced that it would plug so succinctly into her crazy state of affairs. She tried to tell him that it felt as though there was another element at hand in her fate, one that drove this thing out of her realm of control. He heard her, but urged her to withhold judgment till she learned more.

  He introduced her to multiple concepts and practices to investigate in hopes of better understanding the world in which she unwillingly dabbled. While she had heard of faith healing and channeling, she didn’t understand much about either; apparently she would soon. He spoke of a type of healing called “Quantum Touch,” and asked if she would consider hypnosis as a means to see if she stored any unconscious memories or knowledge of the unremembered events.

  The subject of their discussion which was most foreign to her was quantum physics. Just the w
ord “physics” was very intimidating to Johnnie, but her brother assured her that what he was talking about was not a difficult concept to grasp, it was just difficult to believe; it had more to do with the universe, spirituality and possibilities than science. Needless to say, however, it was a concept in which he deeply believed. This part of their discussion had surfaced after they’d tapped well into his bar, however, which either helped animate his description of the practical life applications of quantum physics, or the fact that, for Johnnie, at the time, it actually sounded plausible. Now it all seemed a little fantastic, and not in a good way.

  As she continued to plod on the treadmill, Johnnie could feel the denial associated with sobriety. Although she loved her brother very much, she followed her natural inclination to discount the majority of his topics as a bunch of nonsense…then instantly chastised herself. Resistance had gotten her nowhere and she was well aware of the fact that she had to step out of her comfort zone… no, she needed to blindly leap and leave everything she believed behind.

  Scanning the building tops as they bobbed in her vision, Johnnie pondered that learning more about ideas previously foreign to her might make her own world seem less alien. It took all she had to block the term “mumbo jumbo” as it yearned to attach itself to everything she and James had discussed. Between her own alleged experiences and clear evidence of James’ success, she had to acknowledge another way of seeing, viewing and possibly existing. This scared the hell out of her and she felt her heart rate and body temperature increase.

  She reduced the speed on the treadmill so she could cool down before dismounting, surprised that her substantial perspiration didn’t reek of booze. Focusing on the sweat, she reluctantly decided there was no time like the present to open some of the doors presented her last night. She certainly had nothing to lose.