by Sue Knott
“You seem more comfortable with the finality of these fates than I am.”
“The secret is…once you accept the fate…shed the hope. The pain lessens when the hope dies.”
“I…I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You, my dear Rachel, are a person who holds onto hope to the very end. But, I know you. I can assure you of the alternate path you would take. You would decide to throw Rachel’s law to the winds. Perhaps we would fool ourselves into believing we could have a future together. But, at the moment of finality, you would realize the obstacles are insurmountable.”
Amir looked into my eyes, seeking verification that I understood the truth of his scenario. My answer was barely a whisper.
“Damn you for being so rational.”
“Curse you for being so desirable, yet unattainable.”
Amir insisted that I spend the night in Toronto and accompany Cala to the theater (or theatre, since we were in Canada). I couldn’t decide whether the purpose of his insistence was to give Cala a nice night out, or to relieve his guilt for dragging me up here just to drop me.
I could tell poor Cala was lonely for female companionship. She traveled so often with Amir, she really didn’t have much of a personal life. And most of her business dealings were with men. She had no one to let loose with.
We had a spectacular dinner and saw “Jersey Boys,” which was fabulous. We giggled quite a bit. And Cala shared some of Amir’s faults with me, making me just a wee bit less sad. It turns out Amir was so fastidious, he had his socks and underwear pressed (or, at least, he thought his socks were pressed…she ignored that request and he was none the wiser). I couldn’t see me ever sharing a household with such a neat freak. I seemed to create a mess everytime I attempted to do anything – even to clean. And my style was so casual and relaxed, I didn’t even own an iron.
Chapter 60
The meeting with Amir had certainly left me in shock. But, he was right. Now that I’d lost the ridiculous hope that somehow a miracle would allow Amir and me to be together, the pain was fading. I could move on.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure where I was going professionally. Could I rely on Amir’s company to unlock the secrets of the Glyphs? Or should I pursue that separately as well?
With so many outside interests involved in Amir’s company, any breakthroughs there would remain private. Perhaps Amir specifically told me about those partnerships so I’d be aware that any Glyphs revelations wouldn’t be shared with the world?
That put me right where I was before. No scientific contacts. No independent financing. Just a quandary as to how to proceed. But, at least my personal quandary was laid to rest. Unfortunately, I now felt more like having a bowl of Cherry Garcia than like going to the gym. But, somewhere deep inside I found the resolve to head out for at least one Zumba class. I knew that after I made it through, I’d feel better. The music would lift my spirits. The exercise would invigorate me. Maybe it would clear my head.
I’d been letting my guard down little by little ever since the Glyphs became a public phenomenon. I still couldn’t tell Kim everything, but I did share with her that I had met someone and that it just didn’t work out between the two of us. She didn’t need to know the details to appreciate my sense of loss. My one last hope for a meaningful relationship had dried up.
Kim set about taking my mind off my woes. She joined the Y and arranged to meet me at a Zumba class three nights a week. That was pretty major for Kim. She wasn’t one to exercise. I must really be a basket case if she was willing to mambo for me.
Those workouts really did help. I started feeling like I had some energy. I was in a better mood. Even just having someplace to be three times a week gave my schedule a needed sense of normalcy. (Though, in the back of my mind, I was nervous about sticking to a routine. What was good for my sanity might not be so good for my safety.)
Kim and I started “trolling for men” in all the most ridiculous places. We went to the library, the two major art museums, we even took a drive down to the Corning Museum of Glass, stopping at all the little wineries along the way. We had a blast, but neither of us came up with any romantic prospects. (A couple guys at Heron Hill winery seemed promising, but they quickly became appalled at our low wine IQ…right around the same time their wine snobbery reduced us to uncontrollable fits of laughter.)
I was starting to relax and enjoy myself despite my lack of male companionship. But, the good times soon came to – not exactly to an end – but a drastic slowdown. Kim met someone at one of her office baseball games. (She kept score for the team.) Most everyone in the league would go out to shoot darts and have a beer after the Tuesday night games. That’s where she met Curtis.
He was a really nice guy: charming, handsome, intelligent and a real gentleman. He treated Kim like a queen. He actually went a little bit overboard in that regard.
“I shouldn’t let Curtis spoil me the way he does,” Kim giggled, “but I know this kind of treatment won’t last, so I figured I’d enjoy it while I can.”
“Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself when you fall off that pedestal.”
“Nothing to worry about. It’s not that high a pedestal.”
“I was getting a little spoiled with all the time we were spending together.”
“It’s not like I’m seeing Curt all the time…”
“I know. Don’t be silly. I’m just yanking your chain.”
“Well, I’m not abandoning you altogether. I just have to squeeze in a little time for Curt.”
“I’m fine. Really. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you once Curtis starts scratching his butt and asking you to make him a sandwich.”
“I think he has that scheduled for next week.”
“He’s a keeper if he can hold out that long.” We both giggled
I was truly happy for Kim. I had gotten past all my own self-pity. In fact, I realized the one I missed most of all was Ozone. He was always happier to see me than any boyfriend was. And he could sort of be replaced. I was getting in my car to leave for the SPCA when Amy pulled –tires squealing – into my driveway with the twins.
“Rachel, upstairs fast.” Amy was in a panic. I dashed up the stairs in no time. Amy was on my heels the entire way.
“There’s been a breakthrough. The team working on the Glyphs has determined part of the code includes plans for a weapon.”
My jaw must’ve just about dropped on the floor. A weapon! It was too bizarre to comprehend.
“Are they sure? I can’t believe…”
“There’s no time to talk. I’ll take your computer down to the car. You grab your cell phone and anything you don’t want to fall into the wrong hands. Put a couple days worth of clothes in a shopping bag – not a suitcase. I’m going to pull around to the next street. Cut through the backyards and meet me. And do it fast.”
I flew through the apartment, grabbing up my phones and throwing clothes in a bag. I ran down the back stairs and out the door. When I was halfway through the neighbor’s backyard, I heard tires pulling into my driveway. I sprinted to the far side of the neighbor’s house and slunk along the wall. Even if my “visitors” came to the back door, they wouldn’t see me. Once in front, I dashed over to Amy’s car, got in, and pulled the door closed oh-so-quietly.
“They’re here!”
“Don’t worry, they won’t find us.” Amy drove further into the neighborhood, not toward the main road. We continued to drive along side streets as much as possible. Finally we arrived at a truck stop adjacent to a Thruway entrance.
“Do you have your regular cell phone with you?”
“Yes. It’s right here.” I pulled out my phone
“Is it on?”
“No. I turned it off back at my apartment.”
“Turn it on now and put it on “silent.” I’m going to pull up next to that truck with the motor running. I want you to slip your cell phone somewhere on the truck. Someplace it won’t be seen. But someplace secure,
where it won’t fall off.”
Amy pulled up. I slipped out and tossed the cell through an open window in the truck’s cab. It landed behind the seat. That should be perfect. I got back in the car and Amy took off again – but, not onto the Thruway. We took the country roads.
“I’m going to take you and the girls someplace out of the way until things calm down. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I think you all need to lay low until we see how things shake out.”
“How long will that be?”
“I have no idea. Hopefully not too long. But, I’m guessing it will be at least a few weeks.”
The girls were giggling in the backseat. They thought this was an exciting adventure. I don’t think they really had a sense that they might be at risk…that the government might want them in protective custody…or might even want to keep them as some sort of guinea pigs.
I was having a hard time assimilating all that had just occurred. Would I be wanted for questioning? Could a warrant be put out for my arrest even though I hadn’t done anything illegal? I didn’t want to burden Amy with my questions, at least not while the girls were in earshot. She likely didn’t know much at this point anyway. I was guessing no one did.
Chapter 61
I was surprised when I found out that Amy had no plans to accompany us.
“It will be better if I stay at home. I have a job I can’t leave. And that job provides information vital to your safety.”
“I think I’d feel safer if you were with us.”
“I don’t think you would be. To begin, my staying should buy you time. If I disappeared, it might trigger an immediate search for the girls. If I stay put, it may take them quite some time before anyone realizes the girls are gone. They won’t want to question Gerry right away. They wouldn’t know what to ask. If they look for you now, they’ll be looking for a woman traveling alone…not a woman with two children.”
We drove for 14 hours straight, with Amy and I spelling each other behind the wheel. We didn’t even stop to eat in a proper restaurant. We loaded up on prepared sandwiches at convenience stores. Finally, we arrived on the Atlantic coast. Amy hustled us onto a yacht. We cut Gerry’s hair, transforming her into a boy with some clothes we picked up at Wal-Mart. Amy gave the girls kisses and hugs and tried not to cry as our boat pulled away.
Chapter 62
If we had to be on the lam, at least we were doing it in style. It was a really, really nice yacht. Or maybe all yachts were this nice? What would I know?
Amy’s brother-in-law, Sam, was skippering the boat. He apparently owned a yacht of his own, but he traded his for a friend’s boat for the month…“just for fun.” If anyone went looking for his yacht, they’d find it right where it belonged. Hopefully that would end any investigation into his whereabouts – if there was one.
We were headed for Tortola, one of the British Virgin Islands. But, we hooked up with a catamaran in open water just outside the U.S. Virgin Islands. That boat was from Tortola. I didn’t know how much it’s Captain, Jonathan, knew. I suspected he didn’t know much. But, he was a close friend of Amy’s. He trusted her enough to smuggle the three of us onto the island.
This boat was larger than the tiny catamarans I was familiar with. It had an inside cabin! I didn’t even know they made catamarans that big. It was such a different experience from being on the yacht, which had no sails. So quiet and peaceful. If I weren’t totally freaking out about sneaking into another country, I would’ve really found that ride relaxing.
Jonathan timed it so we arrived at Tortola near dusk. He pulled the catamaran next to a place called Smugglers Cove. (How apropos.) He loaded the girls and me onto a little dinghy and took us ashore. In the twilight, Smugglers Cove lived up to its name. It was dense with coconut palms. A cacophony of sounds was coming from the tree tops. Loud chirping and whistling – completely exotic sounds echoing off the surrounding hills. Jonathon said most of the chirps were coming from tiny tree frogs. That gave the girls and me no comfort. The entire scene was just too eerie.
Jonathan guided us across the beach and into the coconut grove. It didn’t help that we passed between a burned-out car and an eerie, abandoned nightclub. I suspected the club, with its missing wall, was the victim of a hurricane or poor economic times. The burned-out car was another story…and I sure didn’t want to hear it just then.
We didn’t have to go far. Jonathan’s wife was waiting in a car in what must have been the parking lot for the derelict bar.
“Judy will take you up to your place. It’s quite nice. I think you’ll be very happy there.” Jonathon’s British accent gave him such a sophisticated edge, but no one could be more folksy and down-to-earth. He could tell we were nervous.
“Don’t fret for your security. There’s virtually no crime against visitors on this island. And no one’s going to be bothering you up at your villa.”
“It’s not just people I’m worried about.”
“Even less to fear then. There are no poisonous snakes, no deadly spiders, not even any predators that could take down more than a chicken. We have lots of feral chickens, though. Goats, too. Don’t let those give you a scare.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. Judy will settle you in good. And we’re just a phone call away.”
Judy, was a pleasant as Jonathon was. I didn’t know how she kept so relaxed and composed on that road. The deep ruts had the Jeep bouncing us right off our seats every few seconds. I’d imagined the road was long abandoned. And as soon as we got on what you might call a main road, the terrain became incredibly steep, with even steeper drop-offs on the side.
Judy deposited us in a huge villa near the top of a mountain. She came in to help us turn on the lights and get acclimated. It was a gorgeous villa, but arriving at night…not knowing the surroundings…with all those surreal sounds emanating from the jungle…it felt creepy. I don’t know about the girls, but I didn’t get much sleep that night.
The morning was a different story. I woke up to discover we’d landed in paradise. It was difficult to say which was more spectacular, the villa or the views. Tortola rose up from the ocean in a series of mountain peaks. The mountains were covered in lush greenery and rimmed along most edges by gleaming, white, sandy beaches. The water near the shoreline was crystal clear and the most amazingly vivid color of turquoise you could imagine.
The villa was huge and decorated in bright colors and bold patterns. It had a swimming pool, a guest cottage, and tennis courts. (The courts were useless to me…I’d invariably hit the ball over the fence and it would roll hundreds of feet down the steep hillside into the dense vegetation.)
Summer was the off-season here. Many of the villas on the surrounding hillsides were empty. Even so, the island was big enough that we didn’t attract much attention. Our villa was at the end of a long, steep road of loose gravel. That gravel would crunch loudly under the wheels of any vehicle that dared to brave the incline. No one could drive up without us knowing about it.
The girls and I marveled at the beauty of Tortola. Even though the summer weather was hot and humid, the villa’s elevation treated us to temperatures that were amazingly pleasant. As long as the breeze kept up – and it was almost always there – we had no need for air conditioning. Which was good, because fancy as this villa was, there was no air-conditioning.
One day when Terry took a nap, I had a little heart-to-heart with Gerry.
“You said before you had a bad feeling about staying together as a family. Do you have a bad feeling about us being a family right now?”
“Un-uh.”
“Care to use an actual word…maybe even a sentence?”
“The bad feelin’ I had before is gone. It went away when we went to stay at Amy an’ Marcus’s house. It never came back.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yep. That was a really big, really bad feeling. I’d know if it was back.”
That was worrisome. A really big, reall
y bad feeling and she hadn’t mentioned it until the cause was gone? Yipes!
“Are there any other really big feelings you want to tell me about?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the bad feeling about us staying together when we were together the first time?”
“I worried that might make things get worse.”
“You know, I trust your feelings. And I care about you and Terry. I wouldn’t make things worse for you. Even if it made things better for me.” I hoped that was the truth. I thought it was.
“Uh huh.”
“Is there anything at all you want to tell me?”
“Un-uh.”
“Think hard, is there anything you know – or feel – that might be important?”
Gerry hesitated.
“Even if it’s just something little. Or something you’re not sure about.”
“The Glyphs aren’t bad. They’re good.”
“I feel that way, too.”
“I don’t just feel it. I know it.”
“I know it, too.” Gerry let me give her a big hug. She fell asleep on my lap as I stroked her hair.
Chapter 63
Life in Tortola wasn’t bad. A Jeep came with the villa, so I’d take the girls down to the beach for a bit most days. We discovered that, by day, Smuggler’s Cove wasn’t scary at all. In fact, it was one of the best beaches on the island. The water was tranquil. The snorkeling was superb. And you could get a great barbeque lunch on the beach. Far from being abandoned, the rutted road to the beach was just par for the course when it came to Tortola’s side roads.
The scary scenario we encountered on our first night was just beyond the main beach area. I imagine the tourists were totally unaware the abandoned nightclub was even there.
Being off season, we often had huge sections of the beaches almost to ourselves. Especially Smuggler’s Cove, since there was no resort nearby. Occasionally a church group or family reunion at the beach would provide the girls with opportunities to talk to kids their own age. I stayed to myself. I figured the closer people got to me, the more questions would arise. Better to be perceived as a haughty stranger than to have to weave a web of lies.