by James Abel
Applause rippled through the hall as Jessie walked out and approached the podium. She didn’t look anything like the young woman who had been hanging out at Beat Nick’s a week earlier. She was now wearing a $3,000 black pantsuit, a cream-colored silk blouse, and low-healed black pumps. Her hair was no longer blond with a blue streak. It was black, the color that Governor Warring had selected for her long ago. It was neatly parted on one side of her head, falling evenly to both shoulders. She was wearing makeup with light pink lipstick and matching nail polish. She looked every bit like a Princeton graduate, one who could easily have just stepped out of a Wall Street boardroom. As Jessie stood there smiling and waiting for the applause to die down, Molly’s brow furrowed a bit. She was fixated on Jessie Warring’s face, particularly her smile. There was something familiar. No. It couldn’t be. No way.
When the applause died down, Jessie nodded and said, “Thank you all so much. It’s such a pleasure to be here today. It feels like home, even though it’s so far away from my beginnings back in Savannah, Georgia.”
Maybe the reference to Savannah helped, but it was the unique, slight Southern twang in Jessie’s voice more than anything that sparked Molly’s memory. Without thinking, without realizing where she was, Molly leapt out of her seat and blurted out, “Blue! Is that you?”
There was a collective gasp from the audience as all heads turned toward the strawberry blond now standing in the second row. The men in black started to whisper into their microphones.
Jessie Warring froze, staring at Molly. Then her face exploded in joy as she yelled out, “Molly. Oh My God.” She paused for a second, looked at the audience and said, ‘Sorry, but you’ve got to excuse me for a minute.”
Then Blue rushed from behind the podium and ran down the stairs fronting the stage as Molly pushed past the three people blocking her way to the aisle. The two men in black down on the floor quickly moved to cut off Molly’s path. The dean of students, still on stage, watched in shock as the scene unfolded.
Blue reached Molly just ahead of the security guards, and she and Molly embraced, tears of joy flowing down their faces. Two seconds later, one of the men in black arrived and started to push Molly away. Blue gave him a dirty look and said, “Let go of her.” He briefly backed off. In that split second of time, Blue leaned forward into Molly’s ear and whispered, “I’ll write you—in code. Please, I need your help.”
And then the second guard arrived, preparing to break the young women up. Molly backed away from Blue under her own power. Blue gave the men another dirty look and walked back up the steps toward the podium as murmurs rippled through the audience.
When Blue got back to the mike, she took a deep breath, chuckled, and amped up her captivating Southern twang by saying, “I suppose y’all are wondering what that was all about, aren’t you?”
A few in the audience let out a nervous laugh, but most stayed silent. Blue got a broad smile and said, “Sure you are!” And she was suddenly Jessie Warring again rather than Blue...back in control of the room as the audience broke into laughter.
Blue said, “Well, that wonderful young woman down there just happens to be the best friend I’ve ever had. We got separated when I went into foster care 10 years ago, and y’all just got to witness our spontaneous reunion.”
Blue then looked directly at Molly and said, “In a lot of ways, we saved each other’s lives back there on Tybee Island, didn’t we Mols?”
Molly smiled, nodded, and held up her thumb for all to see as Blue concluded by saying, “But that’s a story for another day, so now let me get to the reason I’m here.”
For the next 45 minutes, Blue captivated the crowd with her pre-scripted, Warring-approved story. Molly, however, didn’t hear much of it. Her mind was racing over the events that had just occurred. As happy as she was to see Blue, she couldn’t make any sense out what she had just whispered into her ear.
A piece of the puzzle was solved when Blue wrapped up her presentation by saying, “In closing, I want to announce an exciting new initiative that we’re kicking off at WWA. We all know that to be successful in the business world, it is imperative to have excellent communication skills. But what you may not appreciate is the incredible power of the written word. I don’t mean quickly hammered-out text messages or tweets. I mean hand-written letters or notes. They create a personal touch that can bond for a lifetime. Ask yourself why you use the written word to send birthday cards, wedding wishes, and condolence letters to your closest friends and family. Why not a simple tweet or a text message? It’s because we all intuitively understand that the hand-written word strengthens the meaning, the significance of our underlying message. This little tidbit of wisdom can be even more valuable in the business world. After all, it may help get you your next promotion, ink an important contract, or at the very least land you a bigger office.”
She let the laughter subside and then continued, “But sadly, the young children of America are not being taught how to effectively communicate through the written word. In fact, many schools no longer even teach cursive writing. At WWA, we think this is a mistake, and to address this problem, I’m here to announce a new nationwide program at all our foster homes. We plan to double our efforts to work on every young girl’s writing skills and help each of them to establish a pen pal to exchange letters once a week. To kick off this new program, I think it’s appropriate that I ask Molly Nichols, my best friend, to become my pen pal. Mols, will you do that for me?”
Once again, Molly held up her thumb for all to see.
On stage, Blue smiled and said, “Terrific! Now if the rest of you follow suit, I think you will come to rediscover a certain joy, a bond that we’ve lost in this age of instant information exchange. Thank you all, and good afternoon.”
As the students stood up and applauded, Molly left her seat and tried to move toward the foot of the stage. One of the men in black blocked her and motioned her toward an exit. Molly held her ground the best she could as she watched Blue tear off a page from her presentation and scribble something on the back. Then Blue waived off several admiring fans, including the dean of students, and quickly moved toward Molly. When she got to the edge of the stage, she knelt and held out the scrap of paper toward Molly. The security guard, standing between Blue and Molly, snatched it out of Blue’s hand before Molly could take it. In that instant, Blue’s demeanor changed, reminding Molly of a side of Blue’s personality she had seen once before. Blue glared at the man and said, “Weren’t you paying attention for the past five minutes? It’s my mailing address for God’s sake! You know, so we can kick off the pen pal program! Do you want to call my mother for permission?”
The guard quickly backed off, sheepishly handing Molly the paper. Blue stood up. Before returning to the other people waiting to talk to her, she looked at Molly and said, “Remember, this is important. Please don’t let me down.”
CHAPTER 6
Molly didn’t live on campus. She was living with her dad, Jordan Nichols, in a nearby house he had rented. Jordan, in his mid-forties, had done a good job holding the signs of middle age at bay. His flat stomach was a by-product of a daily regimen of sit-ups and early morning five-mile runs. He still had a thick head of dark brown hair, although the grey had recently started to move in, and the only wrinkles on his face were the crow’s feet that framed his light blue, deep-set eyes. With his well- proportioned, six-foot-tall frame, solid jaw line, and welcoming smile, he was a sought-after target of many single women, most of them on the rebound after a failed first marriage. But Jordan, while always gracious, didn’t allow himself to get caught up in any romances. In fact, he didn’t seem to enjoy life the same way he once had. He had never recovered from the murder of Molly’s mother, his wife and soulmate— some 10 years earlier.
The reason for Jordan’s recent move to Ithaca was to complete a long-postponed goal, a promise he had made to his dad to get a law degree. He was about to become the third son in a direct lineage, and the fourth man in his
family with a law degree from Cornell. In fact, his father, Molly’s grandfather, was Judge Jim, the man sitting on the New York court charged with determining the constitutionality of the proposed New York LUV Act.
When Molly completed the 15-minute drive to the house, she found Jordan standing outside, waiting. As she pulled into the driveway, she gave him a big smile and a wave, anxious to tell him about her reunion with Blue. But by his body language, Molly knew something was wrong. She jumped out of the car and asked, “What’s wrong, Dad?”
Jordan put his arm around Molly and, choking on his words, said, “It’s your Pop. He passed away last night in his sleep.”
Jordan started to cry. They embraced each other as Molly said, “But he seemed so healthy. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Neither does Nana. I’m guessing it was his heart, but they’re gonna do an autopsy tomorrow morning.”
Jordan choked back some more tears and pulled away from Molly. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’m a real mess.”
Molly, tears running down her cheeks, said, “That’s okay. How’s Nana doing? Shouldn’t we check on her?”
“She seems okay. You know how stoic she is. But yeah, we do need to get over there. I already threw a few of my things in the car. Let’s go inside so you can pack. I’m gonna stay with Mom for at least a couple of days, but you do whatever you need to with school and all. If you need to come back right away, you can drive back in my car, and I’ll make other arrangements.”
“I’m not worried about school, Dad,” came the answer.
Jordan put his arm around Molly’s shoulder, and they walked inside.
Twenty minutes later, they were on the road for the hour and a half drive to Oneida Lake. Something jolted Molly’s consciousness, and she blurted out, “Oh! Aunt Jenna. Does she know yet?”
Jordan, keeping his eyes on the road, said, “Yeah. I tracked her down just before you got home. She and Uncle Rob are in Paris now. They’re gonna make arrangements to get back as soon as possible, but I suspect it will take at least a couple of days.”
“How was she? Did she seem okay?”
“Yeah. She’s strong like mom—at least on the outside.”
“I’ll be glad when she gets here. I miss her so much.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They were quiet for about 10 minutes when Molly said, “You’ll never guess who I ran into today!”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“Sure. She was my best friend from Tybee Island, the one we’ve both been searching for!”
“You finally found Blue?”
“Actually, it’s more like she found me.”
“Did you see her at that speaking event today?”
Molly smiled and said, “As it turns out, Blue was the speaking event. Dad, she’s now Jessie Warring, the adopted daughter of Heather Warring!”
Jordan took his eyes off the road for a second, turned toward Molly, and said, “What?!”
Molly motioned for him to pay attention to his driving and said, “Yup. It was quite the reunion.”
Jordan shook his head slowly from side to side and muttered, “Blue. I’m so glad you found her. Unbelievable. It sure brings back some bittersweet memories.”
“Yeah, Dad. It does.”
Molly watched her father wipe some new tears from his face and decided that telling him about what Blue had whispered into her ear that morning would have to wait.
CHAPTER 7
Dearest Mols,
Thank you so much for the very first official letter of the new pen pal program. With that said, I was so sorry to read about your Pop’s passing. You and your dad have my deepest condolences. I wish I could somehow ease your pain, but it gives me comfort to know that you are staying with your dad for now. I know you will help each other through the healing process.
While this must surely feel a bit selfish given the circumstances, reading the rest of your letter truly lifted my spirits. It took me back to when we first met, and how much our friendship grew after that shaky start. (All thanks to me. Ha!) I know that I will never have a better friend than I have in you, even though it has been way too long since we last spoke.
Anyway, your letter also took me back to that wonderful trip we took with your dad to Disney World. That’s my best memory of all. It was just the three of us in the happiest place in the world. Of all the parks, Magic Kingdom was my favorite. The Haunted Mansion, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, and the Pirates of the Caribbean still stick in my mind. Remember the end of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride when the boat goes under the bridge, and there’s that cute little animatronic dog with the keys in his mouth? All the prisoners were reaching out of the cell, trying to get the dog to bring the keys over so they could escape. I guess they were really desperate.
Animal Kingdom was my second favorite park. Remember how embarrassed your dad was when we were waiting in line to see the 3-D movie inside the Tree of Life? I think the attraction was called “It’s Tough to be a Bug” or “Stop Bugging Me”, or something like that. Your dad’s cell phone rang, and that cast membersmade him turn it off..
Tell you what! In your next letter, why don’t you tell me what your favorite rides were. It will help make me feel like I’m a kid again. Anyway, gotta run now. Love you!
Jessie—aka Blue!
Molly, sprawled out on her dad’s sofa, held out Blue’s letter, and said, “Dad, take a look at this. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Jordan, pulling his eyes away from the evening news said, “You want me to read Blue’s letter? In my day, pen pal letters were private.”
“What do you mean in your day? I bet you never had a pen pal in your entire life.”
Jordan smiled and said, “Okay, you got me. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that most of what Blue wrote about never happened. After offering her condolences for Pop’s death, all she talks about is the time that we went to Disney World together. We never did that! In fact, I remember when you asked her to go with us. She refused. The entire letter, she’s just making stuff up.”
Jordan walked over to Molly, reached out, and said, “Okay. Let me see it.”
Molly sat up, handed the letter to him, and walked out of the room toward the kitchen.
When she returned, soda in hand, Jordan looked up from the letter and asked, “Remind me, what exactly did Blue whisper in your ear that day?”
“She said something about writing to me in code. That she needed my help. But I can’t find any code. I’ve tried reading it backward, every other word. You name it, and I’ve tried it.”
Jordan winked at Molly and said, “Interesting. We’ll have to call it Blue’s Code!”
Molly shook her head and said, “Ha. Ha. And I bet you’re just dying to figure it out.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Jordan, glancing at his watch, asked, “Any idea who that could be?”
“Nope,” came Molly’s response.
Jordan walked over to the door and, without removing the security chain, peeked outside. He saw a face he recognized. It was that of William Bennings.
This can’t be good.
He opened the door, and Benning’s, a man about Jordan’s age, about five-foot, nine-inches tall with a small, athletic frame and short, black hair walked in. He was a man that always seemed on edge, the kind that brings a certain tension with them wherever they go. Bennings smiled and said, “Hi, Jordan. Good to see you after all these years.”
Jordan nodded and said, “Really, Bennings. You sure it’s good? Why are you here?”
“Ouch. What kind of greeting is that?” Then, Molly caught Bennings’s eye, and he said, “And look at you! If it wasn’t for the file photo, I’m not sure I’d even recognize you. Molly, you have really grown up”
Molly smiled, but Jordan glared at Bennings and asked, “What file photo? What the hell is this all about?”
Bennings held his hands out in front of him and said, “Whoa
, sorry about that. Social skills are not my strong point. Let me start over.”
Jordan said, “You do that! Start by telling us why you’re here.”
“Okay, but can I at least sit down?”
Jordan motioned toward a doorway and said, “In the kitchen.”
The three of them moved into the kitchen and sat down at a small table tucked against the wall. Jordan walked over to the fridge, pulled out a Bud Light, turned, and asked Bennings, “You want one?”
“No, thanks.”
Jordan sat down and asked, “What exactly is going on here?”
Bennings said, “Before I start, I need your word that this meeting and everything we talk about stays right here. Are you guys good with that?”
Father and daughter glanced at each other, and then Jordan said, “Yeah, sure. But first, let me see your creds. How do I know you’re still with the Bureau?”
Bennings reached for his pocket as he smiled and said, “Always the cop.” He pulled out a leather covered cardholder, flipped it open, and handed it to Jordan.
Jordan looked at the badge and the FBI identification card and handed it back as he said, “Okay, go ahead.”
Bennings nodded and said, “A while back, I was put in charge of a team charged with investigating the deaths of seven individuals in various states across the country. What they had in common was that they all occurred in states where the LUV Act was being proposed and, with only one exception, all of the victims were key legislators arguing against passage.”
Jordan immediately understood where the conversation was headed and said, “And that one exception was my father.”