by DJ Wilson
“D, I think I know where your mind is.” I blushed. “I can tell by the looks of your bulging jeans.”
“You caught me,” I confessed. “I do promise you, I am more than ready to recreate the ride with you, anytime — anyplace — anywhere.”
“You’re always ready to do it again, anytime, anyplace, anywhere. Slut that you are.” I grinned. “Right now, I’m hungry ... let’s ride,” I chimed, climbing onto the bike behind him.
“Your wish is my command, precious,” cranking my engine with Mile and Gio following suit. “We ride.”
I took us over the same route we had walked earlier this morning, across West Bay Street and along River Street, before catching Abercorn and riding it four blocks to Clary’s Cafe. Experiencing only a ten minute wait, we settled into a six top far away in the back. Hanging on the wall behind us were numerous autographed pictures from the stars, cast and crew of the movie; the most recognizable, Clint Eastwood standing with Patricia, the owner, and a native Tennessean.
“Does this seem oddly familiar?” Not waiting for an answer, “It should, you saw this setting last night multiple times. What you didn’t see is their food. My favorite is their Eggs Benedict Florentine. Gio you might like the Elvis ... Peanut butter and banana, stuffed French toast.” Mile chose that instead. Gio ordered Hoppel Poppel made of scrambled eggs with chunks of Kosher Salami, potatoes, onion and green peppers. While Candi ordered Corned Beef Hash, eggs over easy, grits and whole wheat toast.
Thirty minutes later, we were stuffed and ready for a nap. I ordered a carafe of coffee and three mugs. “Driver’s beware, we need a caffeine fix before we get on the road.” Mile and Gio happily agreed. Candi wouldn’t allow coffee to cross her lips if my life depended on it. Thankfully, she’s not too particular about the other things that cross her lips ... number one of which was me. I gloated.
“D, Clary’s deserves a five-star rating on Trip Advisor. Wouldn’t you agree?” I asked, logging onto the website, checking all 5 stars while raving favorably in the comment section.
“I’m glad you liked it. I can only hope you’ll say the same about dinner tonight. We’re going to the world famous Tybee Island Crab Shack.”
With a generous tip on the table equal to our tab, we left Clary’s much lazier than when we arrived. Riding through the streets of Savannah, I zigzagged our way to U.S. Highway 80 east, before taking the Islands Expressway to Tybee. Disregarding the GPS for the moment, I led us to the end of the island, now a virtual ghost town since the tourists were gone and only the locals remained.
Quaint, costal small town, that’s how I’d describe Tybee Island. Tapping D on the helmet, “Baby, I could live here. Couldn’t you?”
My heart skipped a beat. “I could, actually. Or some place much like it,” I replied. “Be careful what you wish for baby doll. Remember with me dreams have a strange way of coming true.”
Paying attention to the GPS again, we rolled down Tenth before hanging a right and driving straight to the ocean and our condo just beyond the black iron gates. Using the universal code provided when I booked them, the gates swung wide welcoming us to our home away from home. I could say that many times over. “Candi, do you realize over the last few days this will be only the second time I’ve stayed anywhere more than one night?”
Patting him on the shoulder, I whispered, “poor baby,” into his ear. “For the next two days, I promise, you can relax, unwind, drink beer and screw.”
“Screw? If we’re gonna screw, we have to eat. You whose whole world revolves around food.”
“By all means, D, that too.”
Chapter 75
For the next two days, Candi was true to her word. The four of us relaxed on the beach, drank beer and — well, with Candi, the third one was a given — and fourth, we ate far too much seafood.
Watching pods of Dolphins, not 75 yards off the shore trail the shrimp boats through the bay was enjoyable, as well as relaxing. We parked Giovanni under a large beach umbrella in a reclining lounge chair and there he remained. Mile, in between waiting on him hand and foot, a beer readily in hand, worked to bronze her tan, before they returned to Italy next week.
By the morning of our third day, I felt used and abused ... in a good way for a change ... and rested. Soaking up the suns’ rays of our last morning here, I followed up with Candi on our earlier conversation. “Baby, did you mean what you said when we arrived at Tybee that you could live in a small town like this, especially if it was on the coast? There are no large hospitals here. What would you do?”
“There are many things still on my bucket list, D. Nothing is set in stone. I could set up a free medical clinic. Thanks to you, it’s not like I have to work. Besides, if I don’t like it, I can always pick up and go somewhere else.”
“What about your family?”
“They’ll get by with or without me. As far as I’m concerned, the farther away the better.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it, D. Why the third degree all of a sudden, especially about my family?”
“Choices, Candi. Sometimes we have to make hard choices — spur of the minute choices — and live with them. Could you follow your gut and just do it?”
“What exactly are you saying, baby?”
“I’m saying, sooner or later, there is going to come a time in your life when you have to move out of your families shadow, live your life for you and let the chips fall where they may.”
“I did that when I came looking for you.”
“Not true. You always knew they were there to fall back on if you failed or ran into a problem that you couldn’t overcome. Remember when you tossed your mom’s name around, telling me she could control Standford? She didn’t. More than likely, since I was involved with you, she didn’t want to. Standford has been and is my problem. He has become the monster of my making. I will have to deal with him straight away at some point. Especially since all this running is making my head hurt every damn day.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“I know you were. I don’t fault you for that. Last question and then we need to get on the road. If you had no Family ties that could deal with Standford and he remained a threat to me ... to you ... what would Candice Parker do?”
Don’t let him see you hesitate, you know the answer, say it, “No question, I’d take him out anyway I could.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, Candi.”
“Now please rouse Gio from his three day nap and release Mile from her servitude. I’m sure he can’t wait to get his cast off tomorrow.”
I chuckled. “Two to one, I bet Mile wants it off a whole lot more than he does. After the last three days, she needs a break from him.”
“Good point. We could leave him here,” I said in jest. “Then again, because of his propensity to breed, Tybee Island would never be the same.”
Our three and a half hour ride back to Daytona Beach down I-95 went fast and was surprisingly uneventful. No one wanted to leave the ocean. I got it. Sadly, reality knocked more than once in Tybee. But I didn’t want to answer it. Today, once I dropped them off at the dealership, I had to.
With Gio and Mile turning in their bikes, Candi readily assisted me in loading mine, handing me the cinch straps while I tied it down.
I’ve ignored this long enough. Here goes, “I can stay here with you, D. Gio and Mile can go back without me.”
“No you can’t. Marcy is due in tonight. Remember? To have a friend, you have to be a friend.”
I relented. “OK, you win. They all fly out Sunday after the All Children’s Hospital Gala. I’ll come back then. Where will you be?”
“Candi, remember, I’m a non-entity at the moment. Besides, you’ve single-handedly accomplished all you originally set out to do. You retrieved the ledgers and collected the reward. Realistically, there’s nothing more I can do for you at the moment except involve you in my madness.”
“That’s not true. I wish ... I wish I could rewind
the clock and never left Florida. Then again, I’d never have met you.”
“What does your gut tell you to do?” She looked troubled and perplexed. I had put her on the spot. “You don’t have to answer right now. There will come a time soon enough when I ask you the same question again. Think long and hard, then answer with the same conviction you conveyed this morning toward Standford. But, be prepared to live with it.”
I heard the clanking and clopping of Gio’s crutches approaching. “Give me a hug, baby. We’ll talk soon. By the way, where’s your passport?”
“In my purse. I’ve yet to take it out from our ride. Why?”
“Just wondering. I ran across mine earlier and that made me think of yours.”
“Are you going on a trip? Excuse me, are we going on a trip?”
“Baby, I’ve been on a trip all day, every day, since I met you.” I grinned.
Moving to change her train of thought, I walked off the trailer and picked Mile up in my arms, kissing her squarely on the lips. “Thank you for not laying your bike down on this trip. It’s bad enough taking care of Gio, let alone taking care of you, too.” Ha, Mile kissed me back.
“D, happy. Good guide, good food, good fun,” shared Gio, while giving me an Italian man hug.
I whispered, “Don’t forget tomorrow. Whatever you have to do, make it happen.”
“I will, D. You see.”
Watching the three of them drive away pulled at my heartstrings. Over these last six weeks, the four of us bonded through the throes of adversity and formed ties we would carry to the grave. Gio cared deeply for Candi, that’s why he joined us on our ride in Sioux City. My saving his leg and possibly his life didn’t hurt, either. He has my back and I have his, of that I am sure.
Chapter 76
Finally in the comfort of my truck en-route to the Plaza Hotel, I envisioned Major calling my name, possibly using a litany of four letter words. Again, I had pawned him off to strangers. At least this time it was only for three days, not six weeks like before. I called the Plaza, confirmed my room for the night and asked them to notify the kennel that I was on my way to retrieve the dog.
Using Candi’s iPad the day before, I found waiting emails from Jim, Victoria and Greg. I didn’t open them, but I would tonight. Over the last three days I welcomed a brief respite in the drama I’ve come to know as my life.
To my delight, Major was bathed and brushed, and sporting a blue bandana around his neck when I arrived. The tech confirmed all his shots were current, his paperwork up to date. Major could travel anywhere with me in or out of the country, including Hawaii. “Thanks for taking care of it. With my travel plans continuously in flux, Major will be happy to know he can go anywhere the wind blows.”
I checked into the hotel, took Major to the room, stopped by the bar and snagged two Sams on the way to the business center. The first email I read was from Jim asking me where I was and to let me know all was quiet on his end. I skipped Victoria’s and opened Greg’s next. He wanted me to know that Missy was responding exceedingly better than expected in the trials. The whole town was grateful, so much so, they asked him about having a Candice Parker Day. And if so, would she come? Note to self ... I should ask her. Lastly, he wanted me to know he booked a trip to Hawaii and all the islands for the entire month of December, after hunting season. Of course you did. I laughed.
Saving the best for last, I opened Vic’s email.
“Asshole” ... she began. ... “Why haven’t you contacted me? It’s been days! Where are you? How are you? When can I go home? I have a new phone, just for you. Here’s the number — use it. Hugs.”
I put her number in the iPhone, hit send, then end to save it. Draining the last of Sam number two, I stopped by the bar, ordered an avocado burger platter, plus a side of green beans and had it sent to the room. Taking the bartenders last cold six-pack under my arm, I hurried back to the room where I had a long overdue date night planned with the D. O. G.
Twenty minutes later, I was nibbling at my burger, while he feasted on lamb and rice mixed with southern style green beans and a handful of crinkle fries. Moving to the balcony, watching waves crash on the beach at high tide, I downed another Sam in thirty-seconds flat — mostly for courage. Then I called Vic.
“Asshole.”
“Guilty, as charged,” I confessed. “Good evening to you, Victoria.”
“It’s good to hear your voice. It means you’re alive. I was worried you might have been involved in that shootout in Illinois last week — the one involving the U.S. Marshals. You did hear about it, didn’t you?”
I paused. “No, Victoria.. ... I didn’t read about it. Haven’t paid much attention to the news since I left Sioux City.”
He’s lying; I know it. “D, let me rephrase the question. Is it possible you didn’t read about it because you were the one making the news in Illinois last week?”
Astute, isn’t she? “You do an excellent cross, counselor. Let’s just say I once again resemble that remark and leave it at that.”
I knew it — ha! I won’t press him. He’ll tell me when he can. “D, when can I go home?”
“Sunday soon enough?”
“Yes, thank you.” I don’t want to go there, but I will. “Have you worked through your issues with Candi?”
“Not yet. We’ve made great strides. Much has changed since Calgary, Vic. I won’t lie to you. I’m trying to work through them as best I can.”
“How can I help?”
That’s what I was waiting on — her offer to help. “I’m glad you asked. Get a pen and paper, please. Let me know when you’re ready.”
I rummaged around in my purse till I found a pen, “Go ahead.”
“First, I want you to create a blind trust for the property in Tennessee, transferring it to my sons equally. It can’t be sold and is to be used to watch their kids and their kids grow up appreciating nature. Then, calculate how much money it will take to maintain it for the next fifty years. We’ll set that money aside.
“If per chance, none of them want anything to do with it, then transfer the control of it to The Wounded Warrior’s Project, where soldiers suffering from PTSD will have a place to heal. But, before that happens you’ll need to make a run to Tennessee and retrieve two wooden crates and deliver one to Second Harvest Food Bank of East Tennessee, the other to The Wounded Warrior’s Project in Nashville. You’ll need the code to the safe. If you’ll look inside the second to last page of your passport you’ll find it.”
“Clever ... When did you put it there?”
“I don’t remember, maybe while we were at Greg’s. Which reminds me, according to Greg, Missy is responding better than expected to treatment. Looks like she’s probably going to make it. Mistatim even wants to celebrate with a Candice Parker Day.”
“You tell Candi that? Of course you didn’t. She doesn’t even know you did it, does she?”
“It’s not important, Vic. It’s the thought that counts — that and the fact that Missy will get a second chance at life. Speaking of Missy, set up a college trust fund that will cover her expenses all the way through med school. She impresses me as the type of child who will appreciate all those who have been there for her and will graciously pay it forward.”
“I haven’t heard those words in a while.”
“You’re right ... I’ve been up to my eyeballs in alligators here lately. It’s been hard enough trying to stay off radar without doing something magnanimous to bring attention to myself again.”
“All this will take money, D. Do you want me to use what you’ve given me to get this rolling?”
“Heavens no. That’s yours to use as you want. Which brings me to my next item of business. Find a no nonsense, no questions asked, commodities trader who deals in precious metals. He’ll need to be bonded, say up to 20 million and should be able to convert into cash whatever is sent to him within 48 hours. Once you find him, I will ship you a crate which I suggest you divide and send him half to see how he performs
.”
“Crate — like the one in the safe at your house in Tennessee?”
“Yes. There were ten total holding four 27 pound bars. Which brings me to my last item of business. I want you to set up a non-profit 501C in Iowa, complete with a board of directors whose mission is to help people who have been defrauded by unscrupulous bankers and investors, or as I like to call them, crooks.”
“D, who needs clients when I have you?”
“That’s the plan. You’ll do great — checks and balances, girlfriend. Checks and balances.
“Finally, I’m changing the subject on you. Put down your pen and close your eyes. I’m going to paint you a picture — a scenario if you will. Answer truthfully and honestly. There’s no right or wrong answer here. Let’s suppose you were given two choices on where you could spend your life. One is by far the most beautiful place in the world. Ideal year round temps, blue waters, waterfalls, lush green forests in a small town with less than 1200 people, mostly mainlanders looking to retire in peace.”
“Sounds wonderful, D. ... This is about Mayberry, isn’t it?”
“It is, but now — it’s so much more. The second place has mild summers, but harsh winters. Over fourteen feet of snow a year, blustery cold winds off the North Atlantic, an abundance of wildlife like moose and caribou and by far, 20,000 of the nicest, most unselfish, giving, genuine people you’ll ever meet. Here’s my question — which place would you choose?”
“Hands down, I’d choose the first one.”
“Me, too, because it’s almost perfect. Thank you, Vic. That’s all I’ve got for now.”
“Wait! Wait! When will I see you? I miss you, D. We had fun, didn’t we?”
“No promises, Vic. Yes, we had fun, shared many laughs and shared even more tears. Kindred spirits that we are — we’ll always have each other to fall back on.”
Sounds like goodbye. I started tearing up. Damn, girl, get yourself together. “D, go find your Mayberry. Call me when you get there. I’ll take care of everything on this end — checks and balances, I know. I know.” I pressed end ... I didn’t want him to hear me cry ... and cry I did, long into the night.