Pieces of You
By J. F. Elferdink
Based on a True Story
Copyright © 2012 by J.F. Elferdink
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address:
Beyond Communication LLC
300 Farington Blvd., Unit #4
Holland, Michigan 49423-7421
ISBN-13: 978-0-615-66449-1
Printed In the United States Of America
To the Mark who graced my world for a brief time and changed it forever.
And to some dear people from the LinkedIn LinkEds & writers Group who freely shared their expertise to transform this author from a business and academic writer to a novelist, especially
Linnet Woods, editor-extraordinaire.
Table of ContentsTable of Contents
PREFACE
A LOVE STORY BEGINS
1 AN IMPROBABLE BEGINNING
2 DESTINATION: DETROIT
3 REASSURANCE
4 PLANS INTERRUPTED
5 A STRANGE BEDSIDE VISITOR
6 AN ANGUISHED WAIT
MARK TRAVELS BACK
7 A BIZARRE PROPOSAL
8 IMPLAUSIBLE EXPLANATIONS
9 A BARGAIN, A MEMORY AND A PROMISE
10 THE FIRST JOURNEY BACK
11 JANINE’S JOURNAL
12 FROM A WAR ZONE TO PEACE TALKS
13 WHAT? NO SEX IN PARADISE?
14 PURGING NIGHTMARES
15 MATCHLESS VISION
16 MARK’S SECOND STOP
17 A BANKER’S DAY
18 FOUND! A WAY TO JUSTIFY RISK
19 HARROWING CONSEQUENCES
20 SIGNS AND REVELATIONS
21 REUNION
22 DESPERATION
23 THIRD STOP – PIRACY
24 MARK’S DEFENSE
25 TURNING POINT
MARK TRAVELS FORWARD
26 GLIMPSE OF THE IDYLLIC
27 PARADISE GIVES WAY
28 TECHNO-WATCHERS, 2025
29 KINGDOMS, 2025-STYLE
30 TALES OF GREED AND COURAGE
MARK DECIDES
31 BREACHING THE BEYOND
32 FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES
33 HIS CALL
34 EVER AFTER
EPILOGUE: FINDING THE PIECES
BIBLIOGRAPHY
PREFACE
Shortly after Mark boarded the train to Zurich, his cell phone rang. Seeing the name on the caller ID, he knew he had to take the call, even though he wanted nothing more than to settle into his seat in first class and lock the world out. He pushed the talk button.
“Hello, Dr. Lövblad. What’s up? Is golf on your mind already this morning?”
“No, Mark, this is a professional call. The lab work you had done this morning shows a blood infection. We need to locate its source, so I want to see you back here this week.”
“I appreciate your concern, Doc, but we’ve been through this before. I’m on my way to my son’s, but I’ll be back next week and I still have a couple of the pills you prescribed last year…”
“Don’t take those! This infection may not be what you had last year and why didn’t you finish that bottle? Oh well, no use arguing. Next week, then, but be sure to call me if your temperature goes up, even slightly.”
After scheduling the appointment, Mark tried to relax. He wasn’t overly concerned with the call. His doctors got nervous every time he got an infection and this had been going on for forty years.
Actually, he counted himself very lucky. He was only missing a spleen, the result of emergency surgery in 1967 in Vietnam. Several of his Navy buddies, including his best friend, Bob, had been taken home in pieces.
Mark dozed off but was startled awake by a peculiar sensation, almost like a gentle stroking of his tense neck muscles. The only person in view was a train attendant. Seeing no one else, he decided it must have been his overactive imagination dredging up memories of how his ex-wife used to help him relax.
Daydreaming got him through the next few hours and he was startled when the intercom announced his was the next stop.
His son, Martin, waited until Mark had grabbed his travel-worn overnight bag before giving his dad a vigorous hug. It occurred to Mark that public hugs were becoming more infrequent, now that Martin was a husband and father-to-be. This one was especially appreciated.
“Dad, you look drained. Some people retire at sixty-two. I’m not going to suggest you do that yet but I really think you should take more time off. You don’t need to make all these trips to Chicago. I’m pretty sure your clients have access to cell phones and high-speed internet.”
“Okay, son, I get your point, although face-to-face meetings still seem to be warranted when the issues are as complex as the recent regulatory changes. Even so, I’d be highly motivated to take some time off if you and Claire could join me at the Florida house. How does a few days of sailing and scuba diving sound?”
“Let’s ask Claire over dinner. If she feels up to it and if we can both get a few days off work, I’m game.”
Martin led the way to his two-year old BMW and dumped his dad’s bags on the back seat next to his own briefcase.
When they pulled up at the house Martin and Claire had bought six months before, Mark couldn’t resist a broad grin. Helping his son and new daughter-in-law buy this charming house was at the top of the list of what made him grateful for his job. Gratitude was also an emotion he felt for Peggy, Martin’s mother, ever since she had chosen not to fight him for custody of their son.
Mark followed Martin through the front hall into the glowing open-design living area. Sunlight flowed through the wall of windows and dropped from dual skylights.
As Martin closed the door and hung up his father's coat, Mark sat down heavily in the first chair he came to.
"Dad, are you all right?" Martin's brow furrowed. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thanks, I'm a little tired, that’s all; jet lag." Mark rubbed his forehead and smiled at his son.
"Trips to the States never bothered you this much before."
"I've never been this old before. I'll be fine."
"Could there be something else going on? Do you think you should see a doctor?"
Mark's voice took on an edge.
"I've got an appointment with Lövblad. Don't worry so much."
Martin took the chair directly across from his father's and looked in his eyes for a long moment.
"I'm your son. I worry because you’re one of the two people I can’t live without."
Almost as though on cue, the kitchen door swung open and Claire came into the dining room.
"Oh, you're here and just in time!" she said as she set a platter of Zürcher Geschnetzeltes on the table.
Serving the traditional sliced meat and ragout recipe from Zurich was her way of making her husband’s father feel welcome.
“I didn't hear you come in." She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to give Mark a kiss.
Mark made himself stand up to hug his daughter-in-law. Every time he saw her, he gave silent thanks that Martin had been able to survive his parents' divorce and build a stable marriage with this delightful woman.
Blonde, with hazel eyes sparkling with her love of life, her enthusiasm communicated itself to everyone around her.
"How's the mother-to-be feeling?" he asked.
"Much better, now that the morning sickness has passed."
As they filled their plates, Martin cleared his throat and said, “Dad, we don’t like you being alone s
o much. Claire and I want you to move in with us.”
“I’m touched by your invitation but I can’t imagine myself living anywhere but in my own home. I just can’t see myself depending on anyone - even my two favorite people.”
Martin looked at Claire, and she spoke up.
“If you won’t share our home will you, at least, let us help you find someone to share yours?”
“Well, I have ample space but I don’t think I’d be a very good landlord.”
”Come on, Dad,” Claire said, “You know what we’re getting at. We wish you’d find a good woman. Would you let us help?”
“Now that’s a new dilemma. My children don’t think I can attract members of the opposite sex any more. It’s true I haven’t had a date in a few years but only because I didn’t take the time to look.”
“We know that, Dad. You’ve got so much to offer! But, because of your constant traveling, we think your best bet is an online dating service. Several of our friends swear it’s the only way to find a good match.” As she said this, Claire gave her father-in-law a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Succumbing to her persuasive tactic, Mark agreed to look into it.
By the time Mark left for home the next day, a subscription to “SeniorFriendFinder” and a detailed profile already awaited his approval.
A LOVE STORY BEGINS
1
AN IMPROBABLE BEGINNING
Janine Receives a Message
Just as I was about to give up on Internet matchmaker services, a message came from ‘Bluewatersailor: Good catch for a good woman.’ His profile started:
“Until now, I have not had the time to find my special companion. However, the clock keeps ticking and I think I am missing something.”
The basic information profiled a man two years older than me who spoke two foreign languages, French and German, and had an MBA. He had a multitude of interests including cooking, exercise, sailing, traveling and reading.
The only reason his profile was not a 100% match was the miles—actually an ocean—between us. I looked up the distance between his primary home in Geneva and mine in Detroit: 4,200 miles.
His first note furnished the fundamentals not included in his profile. He gave his name as Mark and said he had recently purchased a temporary home on the west side of Michigan. That was a mere three-hour drive from mine. I could handle that much space between us. Actually it might be just about right, since I wasn’t looking for a man who required constant attention. In spite of an outsized red flag—his primary residence—I wrote back.
The next evening he called. The voice on the other end projected a calmness and confidence I found appealing.
“Janine, how are you? I’ve read your email several times.”
“Mark, I’m really glad to hear from you!” I carefully set my full glass of Riesling on the living room table so it wouldn’t spill.
After all, it was the first time I’d been noticed by a guy from an exotic place known for clocks, chocolates, and secret bank accounts.
“Are you calling from Switzerland?”
“No, I would have had to set my alarm for 3 a.m. to make this call from there—not that I wouldn’t have! But today I’m just across the state from you. Is this a good time to talk?”
“It’s a great time! I was just trying to decide whether to start a movie or read a book. You gave me a more interesting option.”
“Another reader; I prefer historical novels and biographies. Which genres are the favorites of an intelligent woman?”
I smiled to myself and took a sip of wine.
“I really like science fiction. C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy is my favorite, and I loved Carl Sagan’s Contact.”
“I remember being awed by the special effects in the movie version of Contact with Jodie Foster. Didn’t she get to travel to a distant galaxy in a space ship designed by aliens?”
“Your memory is very good about the movie version, Mark, although I liked the book better. In the book, the original flight team represented five countries, not just America, and most of the developed world united behind the project.
“I wish world leaders could find such a cause in our lifetime! Oops, I’m sorry, Mark. I shouldn’t be bringing up causes the first time we talk.”
“Don’t worry, Janine, I got it that you have liberal leanings when I read the description of your neighborhood: ‘A place where homeless pilfer the trash and most yards are planted with ‘No War’ signs.’ Did I get that right?”
“Word for word; did you copy my profile?”
“Uh, Janine, why DO you live among homeless people and hang out with nuns?”
“Because Corktown feels like community; I’m not invisible to my neighbors. Some say street parking has something to do with it and the nuns look out for strays, both felines and female transplants.”
Mark chuckled. “I was one of those traditional invisible neighbors before moving to Geneva.”
He continued; “Why’d you move to Detroit?”
“For a job which ended in just a few months but, by then, I was already hooked on the urban lifestyle. I guess Geneva offers that, too. What’s it like to be an expat in an international city?”
“Where do I begin? Let’s see; I walk more than drive, which is a good thing since I’m addicted to the wonderful Swiss pastries and chocolates.”
I was thinking of Mark’s picture as he admitted this. “I didn’t see any extra weight on the man in the photo. Is it a recent shot?”
Mark replied. “Maybe I should send you photos of the hills near my home. They’re better than a treadmill for keeping one’s weight under control. Don’t think I’m a fitness fanatic, though. When I get together with my neighbors, the spreads might be obscene to serious dieters.”
“Are your neighbors primarily local people, or transplants like you?”
“Mostly locals; I live in a village just outside the city limits. Younger expats typically choose Zurich for its nightlife. But I like a more peaceful environment, especially when it comes with phenomenal scenery.”
“I’ve seen photos of Swiss lakes with the surrounding mountains reflected in their glassy water. Is that what you see when you look out your windows?”
“Not quite. I have to walk a couple of miles for those views. The landscape is impressive, but so are the people; they come here from all over the world.”
“I bet you’ve heard some amazing stories.”
“Well, yes, and I promise to share some if I may call you again. I’m sorry to have to go, but I have a breakfast meeting in Chicago.”
We talked again within the week. In between, I got friendly little text messages. After the third phone conversation, we agreed to a face-to-face meeting or, as he put it; ‘the four eyes test’, a reference to the Chinese position that talking and writing are only storytelling. It takes looking into the eyes of the storyteller to know the truth.
Anticipation and nervousness knotted my stomach as I got started on planning how to make a good first impression.
***
“You must be Mark. You look just like your picture.”
He stood, and the way he nodded and looked directly into my eyes reminded me of Humphrey Bogart in a scene from Casablanca.
“I’m Janine—and I’m sorry I’m late!”
He gave me a quick hug before I settled across from him in the booth.
“Relax, you’re here, and I’m delighted.” His smile conveyed approval and helped me feel more at ease.
I looked him over quickly, trying not to be too obvious. Very nice smile, neatly dressed in khakis and a classy checked shirt. He was shorter than I had imagined but trim, with lively blue eyes, the kind that seem to take in every detail; all good so far.
The first couple of hours together were fairly typical for a first date: sharing our best stories over dinner and drinks in a nice restaurant.
An occasional slip of his mask made me wonder what I, too, might be revealing. His expressions assured me I was doing okay.
“Mark, how did you get your overseas job? I wanted to work in international service after returning from the Peace Corps. But I couldn’t make it happen.”
“I knew someone. At least that got me my first job at UBEC. An old friend from my first banking job gave his boss my name.
My current position—although with the same bank—came as a complete surprise. It was not what I woke up thinking would happen that day.”
“I’ve had job surprises, too, but not the kind you’re talking about. So what happened?”
“The senior exec, someone I’d only waved at in passing, came to my cubicle and invited me to lunch, where he told me I’d been chosen to run a client’s bankrupt shipping company. A significant pay increase was attached to the offer. As you might imagine, I was astounded.”
“I can imagine!” In truth, I couldn’t; it was more the stuff of fairy tales.”
“How long did it take you to say yes?”
“Actually, I wanted to turn it down. I really didn’t think I could handle it. That was about seventeen years ago when the company had three ocean-going freighters. It’s a lot different now; more headaches with thirty-one.”
“How’d you know what to do? None of my banking colleagues could’ve pulled that off.”
“They called up my naval record as proof. And once I agreed to try it, I wouldn’t allow myself to think of failing, even though it meant focusing, almost exclusively, on my work. Well, that and my son, of course. I don’t regret it, but I think it’s time to….”
“…find a special companion?” Then I thought, ‘You’re pushing it, Janine’, so I added, “At least, that’s what you said in your profile.”
Just then the waiter returned, bringing with him a tray of desserts. We agreed to split a piece of their sinful chocolate cake. When Mark wiped a crumb off the corner of my mouth, I was both embarrassed and pleased.
I said quickly: “Was this cake as good as what you get in Geneva?”
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