Hell in a Handbasket - The Journey

by Damara Blackthorne

  I started running, not sure of where I was going, or how I was going to get back to the airport, or how I was going to get home. Nothing seemed to be making it fully into my thoughts, nothing except escape. I wasn’t worried about anything other than the fact that I had to get away and fast!

  I spun again and spotted what appeared to be a door down at the end of the hall and I took off running as fast as my skirt would allow me to go.

  * * * *

  I ran to the door, relieved that it had an image of stairs on it. I paused just long enough to try to take a deep breath, my lungs didn‘t seem to want to accept any air into them, and I nearly choked. I looked back down the hall, from the direction I had just come, and there was Ryder looking as gorgeous as always and sadder than I think I had ever seen anyone look. I shook my head trying to get any sympathy for him out of my mind. I gasped as I tried again to take a breath, and I felt a pain in my chest that hurt almost as bad as when my Gram died…almost. I hung my head, and opened the door to the stairs. I started to run down them, tripped over my skirt, and decided that maybe a slower pace would be better. Thankful that I had made it to the first floor, I thought I couldn’t move another step. I paused for a moment to gain some composure and take another deep breath, I walked over to the corner, and sat down on the cold tile floor. I pulled my knees up to my chin, wrapped my arms around my legs, hung my head, firmly planting my face into my knees and began to sob. I am such an idiot! I had no idea why I even let this guy get this close to me in such a short amount of time, yet I had, and now I had to pick up the pieces, and figure out what I was going to do. How I was going to pick up those pieces and fix my life, I didn't know. Gram would have called this a “Life Lesson,” and one thing was for sure, I hated life lessons, they sucked!

  I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I was making a weird sobbing, hiccupping sound. I decided it was time to lick my wounds, get out of this building and try to find a way back to the airport. It was at that moment that I realized that Ryder had everything I had brought with me. My carry-on bag with my change of clothes, my purse and laptop, my cellphone, and God help me, my panties. Talk about being at someone’s mercy. God, I’m an idiot!

  I placed my right hand on the tiled floor beside me, and pushed myself up. I used my left hand to brace myself against this wall. After everything that happened today, I was no longer sure of myself. I wasn’t even sure I could trust that I would be able to get up by myself, let alone walk!

  I took another ragged breath, trying to draw as much oxygen into my lungs as I possibly could, they complained with the effort. I walked through the door that lead me back into the main lobby on the first floor, and blinked heavily as I entered the stark yet professional lobby. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since I last walked through this room and yet it had barely been an hour. An hour and my whole life had been shattered into little tiny pieces, some of which I didn’t think I would ever find or replace.

  I straightened my spine and braced my shoulders, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. I headed for the main doors, when I heard my name called. I turned so rapidly, I’m surprised I didn’t fall over. It was Mrs. Palmer standing at the information desk.

  “Ms. Bendis, Can I speak to you for a moment?”

  I hesitated, my face a mix of shock, confusion, and embarrassment.

  “Please, it’ll only take a moment and I think it will be of help to you.” Her expression was one of sympathy. Great, now I‘ve got people feeling sorry for me. I started a slow, agonizing walk toward her. I guess she was impatient. She began walking toward me and reached me long before I was really ready to face her.

  “Ms. Bendis, I won’t pretend to have any idea about what has transpired between you and Mr. Madsen. However, I can see that you are upset, and I am truly sorry for any misunderstandings, and or discomforts that may have occurred to you, or at your expense.” Her face showing sincere concern.

  I blankly blinked at her. Misunderstandings? Misunderstandings? Part of me wanted to scream at her, and yet another part was just too tired and hurt to care anymore. I blinked again, and she continued talking.

  “It has come to my attention that you are without your personal items originally brought with you, when you began this journey. From one woman to another, I am truly sorry…I can’t do anything about getting you your things back, but I hope you’ll allow me to help you get home.”

  Again, I stood there looking stupid and blinked at her. She handed me an envelope with my name written in flourished handwriting, almost like calligraphy. I looked down at her extended hand and blinked again. I looked back up at her with my blank expression. She gently picked up my hand and placed the envelope into it.

  “Think of this as a sort of advance on your next book. I have a feeling that it will be a much more powerful story.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left me standing there looking stupid.

  I looked down at my hand and the envelope, not knowing if I should open it or not. I took another deep breath, kicked my pride in the ribs, and opened the envelope. Inside were boarding instructions for a private flight home, cash, and another slip of paper. I started to yell at her that she could tell Mr. Madsen that he could take his private jet and shove it into a place that would surely cause my Gram to cringe. But then I remembered that I didn’t have my purse, my ID, my plane ticket, my cell phone… God… I am an idiot! How in the hell did I lose myself so much that I trusted him enough, to not only give up my panties, but also my purse, ID, cell phone, all of my belongings! Stupid, stupid! Realization that I was effectively stranded smacked me upside my head with such a force, I was surprised that I wasn’t knocked out. I looked back inside the envelope and pulled out the second slip of paper, on it I read: “Outside you will find a cab waiting to take you to the airport.”

  Well, Mrs. Palmer had thought of everything. My shoulders slumped. I felt as if I had lost my best friend or my very soul, I wasn’t sure which. I headed out the doors and sure as shit, there was a cab right out front. The cab driver was leaning against the front passenger door, holding a sign that had my name on it.

  “That’s me, I’m Maeve Bendis.” My voice was a weird mix of dying frog and broken glass.

  The cab driver never said a word, he simply leaned over and opened the back passenger door for me. I placed my right hand on the top of the open door and took a step to get into the car. I stopped, turning back toward the building, I glanced up to the windows of the floor where Ryder’s Publishing House was located. It must have been the sun glinting off of those windows, I could have sworn that I saw Ryder standing at the window, looking down at me. Yep, it had to have been the sun, after everything Ryder had done to me, there was no reason for him to be looking out for me. Shaking my head, I eased into the back seat. The cabbie shut my door, strolled around to his door, got in, put the car into gear, we left.

  The drive to the airport was dead silence. The cabbie kept glancing at me in the rear view mirror, but he never said a word. We reached the drop off area of the airport. I reached into the envelope, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to him. The cabbie actually looked at the money and then at me as if it were covered in poison.

  “It’s already been taken care of, miss.” He grunted as he opened his door. I watched in total disbelief as he came around, and opened my door. He held out his hand to help me out of the car. “Have a safe trip.” He uttered as he tipped his hat at me.

  Once I was out of the car, he slammed the car door behind me, and took off practically running back around the car to his door. Jumping inside and slamming his door he took off as if I might somehow ruin his stellar reputation.

  I sighed, placed the twenty dollars back into the envelope, and took out the boarding instructions. I fought back a sob, and overwhelming tears, screwed up my courage, and walked through the airport doors.

  Chapter Seven

  The flight home was quiet and relatively pleasant. The pilot actually came to me and expressed his pleasure at
being able to take me home. I tried to smile, but I think it came off as a weak, watery version. The stewardess tried to make conversation, but stopped when I could only give her one word answers.

  Making my way through the throngs of happy people in the terminal only broke my heart even more. And here I thought I hated airports before…huh…I was so wrong.

  I made it outside only to see a different cab, with a different driver, holding up his own sign with my name on it. I walked up to him, “That’s Me. I’m Maeve Bendis.”

  Smiling, he opened my door, softly closing it as I got situated in my seat. As he was closing his door, I leaned forward, about to tell him my address. He held up a hand, “It’s all been taken care of.” He put the car into gear and drove away from the reminder of one of the most confusing days of my life. I couldn’t help but think that if Mrs. Palmer planned all of this in that short of an amount of time, she was indeed a great friend to have. If she didn’t, well—well, I didn’t want to think about who might have made these arrangements for me, and what that might mean about them. I settled back into my seat, anxious to get home and get this day over with.

  * * * *

  I walked into the house, and tossed the spare key that I kept hidden in the front yard, onto the side table inside the front door. Walking over to the couch, I flopped onto it and started crying again. Just how long does feeling like a fool last?

  That thought had just crossed my mind when the phone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone, so I let it ring, waiting for the answering machine to pick it up. Hell, if it was important, they would leave a message, right?

  I was wrong, again, it wasn’t important, it was Ryder.

  “Maeve, I’m sorry. I would like to explain myself to you. If you’re there, please pick up, I want to make sure that you made it home okay…” Silence fell over him, me, and the house. I refused to pick up the phone. He cleared his throat, “Maeve, I am truly sorry for hurting you, call me back, please.” And then the line went dead. Yeah, snowballs had a better chance of surviving Hell than he did of me returning his call. I may have been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night…well, then again based on today’s behavior, maybe I was born the night before last…idiot!

  * * * *

  Ryder called me every day, three or more times a day, and I let the machine pick up all incoming calls. Each time he left a message, and each time I deleted the message. I guess he, too, was under the wrong impression that if it was important they would leave a message. A couple of times I seriously thought about talking to him just so I could get my purse and stuff back. I really didn’t want to have to go to DMV and get a new driver’s license or the hassle of getting a new bank card and credit cards. God help me, I was so stupid. Gram would have said that I was getting my come-uppance for now contributing to the hand basket the rest of the world was traveling to Hell in. Yep, come-uppance hurts!

  Once again the phone rang and I sat there hoping it was a bill collector. It wasn’t. I heard Ryder’s voice telling me to answer the door. I looked at the phone as if it had grown wings and horns. Then I heard the front door bell ring. Now the door had grown horns, and those horns were attached to Ryder.

  “Maeve,” I heard in a weird echo, as he said it through the door and the phone just a second or so behind each other. So weird. But, I wasn’t going to answer either one, so I just sat on the couch. “Maeve, please I know you’re home. I just want to talk to you, please. I’m sorry. I brought you your belongings. I have them with me if you would just let me in.”

  I cleared my throat, not sure if my voice would betray my pain.

  “Go away, Ryder. Just leave my stuff on the porch. I’ll get it later.”

  The phone line disconnected and I thought that he was actually going to do as I asked.

  “Maeve, please?”

  “Ryder, go home.” I hung my head. For a few minutes I thought that maybe he hadn’t heard me, but then I heard his shoes scuffing across my porch and then down the steps. I didn’t realize that I had been holding my breath, until a sob broke through. And just like that, the tears fell out of my head.

  I don’t know how long I sat there and cried. When I was finally able to get control of the waterworks, the sun had shifted and was making long shadows across the room.

  I got up and went to the door. I looked out to make sure that Ryder wasn’t waiting for me to open it. I didn’t see him anywhere. I quickly opened the door, grabbed my carry-on bag, my laptop case and my purse, and jerked them over the threshold and slammed the door shut, locking it just for safe measure.

  I dragged everything back into the living room and slumped back onto the couch. Well, that was that, wasn’t it? The only connection I still had to that man was that he was my publisher. Maybe I could get out of my contract and find another publishing house to contract with me. I’d have to check into that, later, right now I needed to unpack my stuff.

  I left my purse and laptop on the table in front of the couch and trudged my carry-on up the stairs to my room. I flung the bag onto my bed and skulked over to it. I briefly debated whether to dump everything out or carefully remove my stuff and put it up. Not being responsible led to my heart being broken, so careful won out. About half way through, I grabbed a small box. It was a fragile little box, a dark shade of a purplish-blue, it had a delicate design embroidered in gold thread, and felt as if it were made entirely of velvet. It wasn’t mine, and that meant it was Ryder’s. That sneaky son-of-a-bitch! Did he think he could just buy my forgiveness? That giving the poor girl a pretty little bauble would make me forget that he had stalked me and lied to my face? No, not this girl. Not only was I going to send it back, I wasn’t even going to open it and give him the satisfaction.

  * * * *

  Early the next morning, I took the fragile little box to the UPS store. I wanted it returned absolutely, positively, as soon as was humanly possible!

  With a heavy sigh that mirrored my heavy heart, I headed back home. It was so odd, even though that box was oh-so light, my hands felt incredibly empty without it.

  * * * *

  Two days later, a FedEx delivery guy rang my doorbell. He smiled as he handed me a box that looked similar to a flower box. I checked the return address. It wasn’t from anyone I knew, I didn’t recognize the name of the company. I opened the box, and there inside was the tiny fragile box Ryder had slipped into my stuff.

  “Hey, wait!” I screamed at the delivery guy. I ran up to his truck, waving my arms like a crazy person to get his attention so that he didn’t drive away. I couldn’t believe that I was out of breath in that short of a run.

  “Wait, I don’t want this.” Waving the box at him expecting him to just take it from me.

  “Then you have to return it.” His smile was gone, and he wouldn’t take the box from me.

  “Really? I have to pay out of my pocket to return this thing?” waving the box at him harder, like that would make a difference.

  “I’m sorry Ma’am, I can’t take the box back. It’s against company policy. You’ll have to take it to the office and reship it. Perhaps if you contact the sender, they may refund the cost you incur from returning it.”

  “Fine.” In a move that mirrored my face, I dropped my arm holding up the box, and dragging my feet, I slowly walked back up to the house. Damn it all.

  Grabbing my keys and my purse, I drove to town, to the FedEx office. The clerk was helpful. At least she was able to return it without it costing me anything other than gas money.

  * * * *

  Three days later, my U.S Postal Carrier rang my doorbell.

  “Miss Bendis.” He nodded in my direction.

  “Hi Mr. Sampson, how are you?” I smiled at him.

  “I’m fine thank you, and you?” His smile was genuine as it rang true in his eyes.

  “Doing good, thank you.” I nodded.

  “I have a package for you.” He extended a package toward
s me the size and shape of a shoe box.

  “Really?” After the FedEx experience, I was a little apprehensive. “I didn’t order anything.”

  His smile never faltered as he continued to hold out the package.

  “What if I don’t want it?” arching my eyebrows in a look of quizzical confusion.

  “You don’t want it? Why don’t you want it?” Now his face was wearing my little girl lost look. If I hadn’t been so concerned over the package, I might have found his expression funny… … … … . .

  “I’m not sure if I want it or not. I don’t recognize the person who sent it or address. Can I open it and decide if I want it?” I made my eyes as big as I could in a silent plea.

  “Normally I would tell you it’s against policy, but your grandmother was a good woman and I’ve watched you grow up, so if you’re having doubts about accepting this package, then yes, open it and if you don’t want it, I’ll mark it as refused.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Sampson. I really do appreciate this!” Relief flooded my whole being. I reached just inside the door and grabbed my keys. Using my key like a knife, I split the clear tape holding the box closed. Pulling the top off, and glancing inside, I saw the tiny fragile box. Seriously? Seriously?

  Mr. Sampson saw the look on my face and peered down into the box.

  “Well it’s just another tiny box. But judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing you don’t want to accept this package?” Mr. Sampson gingerly reached for the package, and I let my grip on the box go slack.