All Who Dream (Letting Go)

by Deese, Nicole

  At the end of the evening, I talked with Jenny—a woman Rosie brought to me. My heart broke for her. At the age of twenty, she had been exposed to more heartache than most would know in a lifetime. Growing up with a violent father, she lived now with an abusive boyfriend. It was a recipe for destruction, but tonight she had taken the first steps toward healing her past and reclaiming her future—one free of violence. I cried with her as she told me her story, and our conversation ended the same way I ended every conversation with a first-time visitor, I handed her a card with my phone number on it, along with explicit instructions to call me day or night as needed.

  As I drove home to pick Cody up from his friend’s house, my thoughts lingered on Jenny. Her story pulled me back to the memories of my past, reminding me of the voices I had ignored for so long.

  I packed carelessly, stuffing a third pair of sandals into the large, black duffel bag on my bed. My bedroom door flew open with a bang, and I staggered back.

  Briggs, my younger brother by a year, stood in the entryway, his legs planted wide. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, staring a hole into my duffle bag. Why couldn’t I disappear into it?

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s all over school, Ang.”

  My eyes darted toward his, my stomach hallowing as our gazes connected. This close to graduation I’d hoped the rumor mill would’ve been busy with other gossip, but apparently I’d been wrong.

  “I love him, Briggs.” The statement came out weaker than I had intended.

  He wrapped his fists in his hair. “No, you don’t…and Dirk Luterra sure as heck doesn’t love you, Angela!”

  “And what makes you such an expert on love? You have a new girlfriend every week!” He wasn’t the only one who could yell in this family.

  “You don’t know him.” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step forward. “You might think you do, but I see how he is when you’re not around. He’s a lazy deadbeat.” Briggs grabbed my wrist, eyes pleading as he looked from me to the duffle bag. “Please call this off. I’m begging you, please.”

  “I’m marrying him, Briggs.”

  He released my hand as quiet commanded the room. Minutes twisted into a long braid of silence. We were at an impasse—our first.

  My brother’s stare brimmed with a potent mix of hurt, fury, and disappointment. But my desperate need to be loved was stronger than the deepest dregs of his opposition.

  As he walked toward the door without another word, panic swelled in my chest.

  “Wait—are you making me choose?” I blurted.

  Briggs turned around slowly. Our eyes met, and a dull pain burned in the back of my throat.

  “There is no choice, Ang. You’re my sister; you’ll always have me. I’m just afraid I won’t have you anymore.”

  I lifted up a silent prayer for Jenny, that she would break the cycle now. That she would never have to know the pain and betrayal of a husband who would vow to love and protect her and then do the total opposite.

  Betrayal tainted love’s purity.

  And tainted love changed one’s view of humanity.

  **********

  After helping Cody with his second grade math homework and saying bedtime prayers, I logged into my blog, A Lone Joy. I read the counter at the bottom and nearly fell out of my chair. That’s impossible!

  My most recent post had been on the topic of Fear: A Parent’s Deadliest Pitfall—a subject I knew all too well. My heart thumped hard as I read through the comments.

  “…I never thought anyone would understand my struggle as a single parent…until I read your blog.”

  “I used to cry at night after my daughter was born, I felt so isolated and alone…and afraid. A friend suggested your blog recently and it’s given me hope. I can do this.”

  “Your posts make me laugh, cry, and feel connected. Thank you, Angie.”

  Pushing back against my chair, a new warmth radiated within my chest.

  “God never wastes an opportunity.” Rosie’s voice from a few hours earlier echoed in my thoughts.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe, just maybe, my simple little blog had a purpose beyond my understanding.

  New York.

  Who would have thought?

  Chapter Two

  (Six weeks later)

  “Mom! Mom! Look at that!” Cody exclaimed, looking out the window of the plane and pointing as New York City came into view below us.

  Cody had been like the energizer bunny ever since we stepped foot in the DFW airport in Dallas. The trip to New York was only a three-hour flight, but I was grateful to be landing. Rosie had put several of her favorite books onto my e-reader, but there was no way I could read when Cody quizzed me on every fact he’d studied about The Big Apple. My eight-year-old loved facts; he lived and breathed them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly as well-versed in the city’s history or attractions. When he’d started making the questions multiple choice—just so I could get a few answers correct—I knew it was going to be a long, long flight.

  “Did you know that the Brooklyn Bridge was the first bridge to be lit by electricity, Mom?”

  “No, sweetheart, I did not.”

  “Did you know that there are enough restaurants in New York City for one person to eat out every night for 54 years and never visit the same place twice?”

  “No, sweetheart, I did not.”

  As we made our way through the busy airport to baggage claim, I scanned the crowd. Dee had assured me that the assistant they were sending would be holding a sign with our names on it. Cody spotted his Transformer suitcase come down the conveyor belt. I pulled it off, and seconds later, reached for my own. At least I’d had the good sense to wear comfy clothing for the trip. But if Rosie knew I had on a pair of black capri yoga pants and a yellow fitted tee, she would probably disown me as her BFF. I liked comfort; why was that such a crime? On the fashion-plus side, I’d worn makeup. That should count for something. It wasn’t like we were going anywhere other than the corporate apartment this evening, Dee had sent me the itinerary in advance.

  Cody and I rolled our suitcases through the swarm of people at baggage claim, and headed through the doors to stand on the curb. Then I spotted the bright green sign with our names on it. As I approached the young Wynona Ryder lookalike holding it, she was standing on her tip-toes, scanning the crowd.

  “Um…excuse me?”

  “Yes?” she said in a perky tone, turning vivid green eyes on me.

  “I’m Angela Flores and this is my son, Cody. Are you with Pinkerton Press?”

  The young woman stared as if trying to solve a complicated math equation, mouth hanging open a tad. I touched my face, checking for leftover animal cracker crumbs.

  “You’re Ms. Flores?”

  “Yes…is there a problem?” I looked down at Cody, who seemed equally confused by her reaction.

  Suddenly the woman smiled—white teeth gleaming as her eyes sparkled with life.

  “No! I’m sorry!” She shook her head, “You’re just…different than what I was expecting.”

  What had she been expecting?

  She clapped her hands together, smashing the neon-colored sign between them as she hopped in place twice—yes, hopped. The tone in which she said the word different wasn’t insulting, but it did spark my curiosity.

  “I’m Pippy! It’s so nice to meet you Miss Angela Flores! And you, young sir, must be Cody!” She extended her hand to each of us after dropping the sign at her feet.

  “Nice to meet you. It’s Pippy, you said?”

  You don’t hear a name like that every day.

  She beamed as if I had just complimented her. “Yes, my full name is Penelope, but everyone I know calls me Pippy. My twin brother came up with it when we were toddlers, and it just kind of stuck. Come on, let’s get your bags into the car and we’ll get you settled in at your apartment.” She looked toward an older gentleman standing behind her near a shiny black
town car. “This is Walt. He’s Mr. Ross’s personal driver.”

  Dee had mentioned that name several times during our meeting with the attorney three weeks ago when we finalized my contract. What had she said about him? I couldn’t remember now. My mind had been far too preoccupied that day to retain such details, except for one, my concern for Cody’s privacy.

  Dee’s eyebrows had shot up as I spoke my terms, and anxiety built within my chest.

  “So you refuse to answer any questions regarding Cody’s father?” she clarified.

  “That’s right,” I said quietly. “Though my son doesn’t remember him, I won’t discuss our family history with the media.”

  She nodded slowly, a hint of comprehension passing over her features. “You’re so young to be a widow.” She exhaled. “We’ll make a master list of approved questions for your interviews.”

  I fought back the urge to swallow. “Thank you.”

  And with that, an addendum was added to my contract.

  I reached my hand toward the driver. “Hi Walt, it’s nice to meet you.”

  He was an older gentleman, early sixties maybe, with grayish-white hair, dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt and tie. He loaded our bags in the truck and then opened the door to the nicest town car I’d ever seen. The black leather inside smelled new—a far cry from my old beater back home that smelled of crusty french fries and dirty socks.

  Pippy scooted in next to me. Her hair was styled in the cutest pixie-cut I’d ever seen, framing her oval face perfectly. Her green eyes seemed to exude happiness when she spoke with dainty, heart-shaped lips.

  Cody had already struck up a conversation with Walt, quizzing the driver on New York facts. The man seemed pleasantly amused, so I turned my attention back to Pippy.

  “So here is the new itinerary.” Pippy handed me a sheaf of papers. “I wanted to make sure I gave it to you today so we could go over any questions or conflicts before tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you sooner, the work load has just buried me alive this week—not that I’m complaining—but that’s also the reason I wasn’t sure who I was looking for at the airport. I didn’t have a chance to look at the picture Dee sent before I left for the airport.”

  “Oh…okay, thank you,” I said, reaching for the six-week schedule. I bit my bottom lip as I counted the highlighted formal events. My two semi-formal dresses were about to get a lot of use. This was not good.

  “Is something wrong?” Pippy stared at me.

  “Um…I just didn’t realize there would be so many formal occasions.”

  My hand instinctively went to my necklace, as my thoughts cast around for some kind of answer to this new dilemma. I had no idea how or where to shop in this city, or what kind of extravagant cost would be associated with such an endeavor. This was so not my element of expertise.

  Pippy nodded, her smile sweet and genuine. “I can take care of anything you need, Miss Flores, just let me know.”

  No one had ever said such words to me before, yet even at her young age I sensed she was more than capable. I could just picture Pippy smiling at the challenge of any task asked of her—big or small. Her personality was like sunshine: bright, warm and totally addictive.

  About forty-five minutes after leaving the airport, we pulled up to a large, red-bricked building with black shutters that had intricate detailing around every window. My stomach dropped to my knees. This is really happening. A doorman stood outside of the massive glass doors, and Cody was beside himself in child-like wonder, eyes wide. The gold-plated words scripted over the doorway read, The T. Ross Building—Est. 1945. A young man at the desk in the lobby took our luggage from us and allowed us to catch the elevator ahead of him. Our room was on the fourteenth floor, and I found myself thinking again about the long trip down to the bottom. Pippy handed me the room key (which was an actual key) with a tag looped through it, the numbers 1408 stamped into the metal.

  When we reached our room at the end of the hall, I unlocked the door and exhaled loudly. Though the apartment was small in size, it was nice—very nice. Two bedrooms were attached by a central living area with a galley kitchen at the far end. It was fully furnished, with a chic sofa and chair set, a small table, and even a corner desk. Cody ran for the room on the left. I heard several loud gasps, while the sounds of paper ripping gave me pause.

  “Mom! Mom! I have a big basket on my bed! It’s full of toys—Mom! You won’t believe it! There’s an iPad in here and a card with my name on it!”

  I dropped my purse to the floor in the entry way and met Cody inside his new bedroom. No bigger than a walk-in closet, Cody’s room was made up of a full-size bed, small desk, chair, and closet. It was a perfect space for him. He sat on the bed, touching the loot beside him—an iPad and a basket filled with toys and books appropriate for an eight year-old boy. I was stunned—speechless.

  Who did this? Dee?

  Cody passed me the card as he started opening the box for his new iPad. He probably knew exactly the steps necessary to set it up. His best friend, Dillon had one, so he had seen the device in use plenty of times.

  Dear Cody,

  Thanks for visiting our city with your mom. We hope you will have a good time here even though there will be a lot of very boring events filled with boring people.

  Hope this helps.

  Jackson

  Pinkerton Press

  “Who’s Jackson?” I asked Pippy who was standing in the doorway, smiling.

  “Oh that’s-”

  A phone buzzed.

  Pippy searched the giant bag slung over her shoulder for the vibrating device, placing several things onto the arm of the sofa outside Cody’s door during her mad scramble. Finally, she found it.

  “Hello? Yes…sure, okay…I’ll add it. Oh? Sure, I’ll be down before he’s here then.”

  Pippy slid the phone into the front suit coat pocket, a wise choice since the entire state of Texas was in her bag.

  “I have to get going…I have some things I need to attend to this evening, but there has been a change in the schedule.”

  I suppressed a frown that tried to surface. Okay…so maybe this is something I need to get used to. The schedule has changed twice, and I’ve only been in New York for an hour.

  “You’ve been asked to attend a special dinner tomorrow night—you are welcome to bring Cody, of course. It’s a meet and greet with the upper management at Pinkerton and some of our sponsors. Dee thinks you should be there—she called Mr. Ross to make sure you were extended an invitation.”

  “Oh? Okay…” I started to sweat at the thought of my measly wardrobe. I looked at Pippy, debating. Seeing the way Pippy and Walt were dressed on a Thursday evening after a workday made me question the few things I had packed. I hoped one of the two dresses I had would be sufficient for such an event, but all of this was so out of my league. “Um…I’m sorry to ask this of you—I’m just really bad at this kind of thing. Would you mind looking at my dress options and telling me which is most appropriate for a dinner event like that?”

  Pippy grinned like I had just offered her a briefcase full of cash, and followed me into my room where my suitcase lay on a luggage stand at the edge of the bed. The thin garment bag was hung in the closet. It held several blouses, slacks, a pencil skirt ensemble and two semi-formal dresses. One dress was short, fitted and black, with a shimmery overlay, while the other was a red, silky slip dress that Rosie insisted I purchase. The hem stopped just above my knee. Floor-length gowns were always a letdown as they usually fell just above my ankle—one of the curses of being tall.

  As I pulled the clothes out and laid them on the bed, Pippy looked back to the garment bag as if expecting something else to come dancing out of it.

  “Oh, is this it?” Her eyebrows lifted.

  “Yes…until…I can figure something else out.” Heat flushed my face.

  “Alright, then I’d go with the red one. That will be beautiful with your blonde hair and hazel eyes.”

  Pippy�
�s phone buzzed again. After reading the screen she hurried into action, hiking her purse higher up on her shoulder before heading through the living room toward the front door.

  “I’m sorry—I have to leave, but tomorrow morning the car will be here at nine to pick you up for the signing at the first bookstore. I’ll fill you in on everything else then, and we can talk more about the plan for tomorrow evening.”

  “Oh, okay, sounds good. Thank you for all your help, Pippy…it was nice to meet you.” I followed her out the door of our new temporary home.

  She stopped mid-stride in the hallway and turned toward me. Her smile was huge. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Flores. See you tomorrow.”

  Inside our apartment I found Cody spread out on his bed, iPad instruction booklet in hand, and shook my head, laughing. I’d never see the kid during the course of the next six weeks if I didn’t lay down some ground rules soon. Tonight though, I’d let him have his fun.

  As I passed the couch I saw Pippy’s green binder, the one that had held my most recent itinerary.

  “Cody, can you stay here for a minute? I need to see if I can catch Pippy. Come lock the door behind me. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Cody walked to the door as I raced down the hallway toward the elevators.

  Fidgeting, I watched each number illuminate as I made my descent down fourteen floors. Finally, the door dinged open, and I raced through the lobby toward the exit doors where Walt had parked earlier. As I trotted into the bright lights of the city, I turned my head, hearing Pippy’s voice rise above the sounds of traffic. She was engaged in a focused conversation with a tall, suited figure. Though the man’s broad back faced me, I could clearly see how he dwarfed Pippy.

  I paused my steps as her words found me.

  “...so I’m thinking I should take her shopping, but I’m not sure what kind of budget she has...her wardrobe is scarce at best.”

  “Pippy—I trust you can take care of it. I pay you to sort these types of things out so I don’t have to,” the man said, seemingly preoccupied with something in his hands—I couldn’t see what, but I assumed it was a phone.