Hank was shaking in his tracks. He knew without a doubt, the mob had done their dastardly deed. He called Oahu and Frank answered the phone.
Hank said, “Frank, I need you. Bonnie’s plane has disappeared; the authorities are checking it out. How long will it take you to leave Oahu?”
Frank was quick to respond, “I’ll drop everything possible and leave on the soonest flight out! Hank, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Hank said, drained of emotion, and then he added, “How long will it take you to turn me into a human machine of destruction?”
Frank said, “That depends on your condition, and the level of desire and determination, but let’s talk about that when I get there. I should be able to leave Monday, or no later than Tuesday.”
Hank knew that Love’s Companion had just been moved a giant notch farther from his grasp; disappointing is an understatement of enormous proportions. One little half truth, one little lie, caused a chasm of forty years to close in around his heart.
He knew it was necessary to begin a regimen of activity that would harden his body and mind to a razor sharp awareness. A sharpness that would allow him to hone in on underworld activity to the degree that no one would be safe in the underworld environment -- there could be no hedging, no middle of the road, no compromise.
The first thing he had to do was to begin at the beginning. Even before Frank’s arrival, he would get to the club and set up a six-day plan of physical and mental conditioning that would prepare him for the rough daily routine that was sure to follow. One thing is for sure: from that day forward he was determined to avenge the loss of his most precious Bonnie.
Chapter Three
Hidden Identity
Saturday morning Hank arrived at the club and arranged to set up a program of activity on their Nautilus equipment. During the set-up, he performed fourteen different exercises. Even before he had left the club, he felt his muscles tightening. He had thought he was in pretty good physical condition; after all, he hadn’t abused his body and his nutritional habits were superior to most of his contemporaries. Fortunately, the club had purchased new exercise equipment and all the machines were computerized. That made it convenient and systematic, but he quickly found that his physical condition was not nearly as good as he had previously thought.
He decided to develop a daily regimen of extensive activity: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he would work on his legs, back and stomach. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, he would work on the rest of his body.
Frank called Sunday and said it would be a week before he could get away: he said he expected to arrive a week from Tuesday evening. He added that he was looking forward to working with him to prepare him for his new lifestyle. Frank was absolutely on the money, it would be a new lifestyle.
He realized it would be necessary for him to practically disengage from his normal business; in fact, it had to be all or nothing at all. He decided that he would turn over the day to day running of his business to his most loyal and able manager, explain the situation to some degree, promote him and officially name him the new executive vice president. The week that he would spend awaiting Frank’s arrival would work out perfectly for training his new VP and introducing him to all the appropriate people.
That week passed like a whirlwind. He was extremely pleased with his selection of the man he chose to run the business. He knew the man was competent, but he was surprised at the level of total knowledge of the business, and his enthusiasm. He felt that the business was in good hands, and that he need not be concerned about the operation at all. Obviously, that was an immense relief: he would have no problem putting all his energies into the task at hand.
After that first week, it seemed that his body was always hurting. He found that apparently he needed more time for his body to heal. After that first week, he decided to work on all parts of his body, but only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. At the end of that week, he had added three more Nautilus exercises, plus one additional exercise for his stomach, one for his arms, and one to improve his endurance. Meanwhile, he knew it was necessary for him to work his mind: he had to become mean as well as lean, and that was going to be a task to be tackled with vengeance in mind.
He expected to hear from Hawaii any day: when the phone rang at 3:00 O’clock Monday morning, he naturally expected it to be Frank. The voice on the other end said simply, “Hi.” He dropped the phone and began to shake: it was Bonnie! He quickly retrieved the phone, and before he could say anything she said, “Don’t speak; I’ll contact you at your bank at 9:03 this a.m.” The phone went dead.
He didn’t quite know how to deal with his feelings at that moment. For the past twenty years or so, he had been a person who knew what he wanted and was in total control of his emotions, but now he was a wreck. The only thing he could think to do was enjoy music and just allow the rhythm to soothe his raging excitement. He had made a CD with an assortment of tunes including “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” by Roberta Flack and, “In a Long White Room” by Nancy Wilson. He plopped himself onto his most relaxing chair and began to listen, but as the rhythmic patterns of his most treasured tunes invaded his psyche, he still could not shake the questions that continued to pop up: “Was that really Bonnie?” “What happened, and if that was truly Bonnie, why did she not call sooner?” “What was the result with her and the mob?” “Did the mob agree that she was not a threat to them?” Those questions and many more kept intruding upon his psychic space.
Nevertheless, he managed to wheedle some measure of relaxation as he tried to totally immerse himself into his rhythmic music. Suddenly, he realized it was time for his physical activity at the club. He got dressed, grabbed his equipment bag and headed for the club. He was really uptight: he still could not shake the resounding questions that continued to rock his emotions. One phrase kept popping in front of him, “9:03 at the bank,” “9:03 at the bank,” “9:03 at the bank.”
One more thing came to mind that he knew he had to do immediately: he had to call Frank and stop his departure from Hawaii. That was important regardless of what was about to happen with Bonnie’s situation. Fortunately, when he called, Frank was not available to answer the phone. He was thankful because he didn’t want to try to explain what had happened: he just left a message and said he would explain later.
At 8:45, he drove to the bank. He knew they opened the doors at 9:00 O’clock: he arrived at 8:57 and waited out front. They opened the doors, he entered, and at 9:03 the bank manager asked him to go into his office to receive a phone call. He entered the office: he was expecting to hear Bonnie’s voice, but the voice he heard was a man who introduced himself as an FBI agent. He said he was not at liberty to talk at that time, and he couldn’t answer questions. He gave him an address, and a time to arrive, and then hung up.
“What is going on?” He said to himself. He’s up and he’s down, he’s up and he’s down: now, he is supposed to go to one of the suburbs of Cincinnati, arrive at the address at 12:17 and await instructions. He was reminded of the old “Mission Impossible” TV show, where they did all manner of unusual things to complete their mission. This was sure nerve-wracking to say the least, but if it meant Bonnie was still alive, and there stood a chance to spend the rest of his life with her; there was nothing he would not do
He arrived at the address at the allotted time: it was an office building. He was ushered into a small inner office and told to have a seat; someone would be with him shortly. The time seemed to stand still, why were they doing this to him, he wondered. Shortly, a woman emerged and introduced herself as an FBI agent. She said she had bad news and good news: the bad news was, “You will never see Bonnie DeKarr again because she no longer exists.” His heart didn’t just sink: he nearly lost consciousness. She continued: “Our intent is not to play games, it’s just that we want you to understand the finality of what I am about to tell you.” “Your precious Bonnie,” her face seemed to come alive with pleasure, “is alive and well with a new
identity in a new place.” He held back the undiluted joy with a face as devoid of emotion as possible, but he wanted to reach over and hug the lady.
“The plane crash and all the ancillary info that was attached to that flight were staged. All the other passengers’ names and bodies were FBI agents.” She seemed proud that she was part of the mission as she continued, “Obviously, it took a great deal of planning to bring this off, but it appears that the plan was totally successful.” We don’t need her to testify, because everything that she could attest to was on the planning calendars that we discovered.”
“When can I see her? …Bonnie, I mean.” Hank was beside himself with joy.
She paused briefly and looked him directly in the eyes, she began to speak, then she paused again before she said, “We are in the process of making that happen. If you want to join your Bonnie, you must also gain a new identity and the Hank everyone knows must disappear, never to return.”
Hank said, “That’s no problem, what do I have to do?”
“But it is a problem,” she said, “and it will take about sixty to ninety days to make it happen – that is, if all goes as planned. First,” she said, “You’ve got to sell your business or in some way get out of it. You’ve got to divorce yourself from all your family, relatives and friends. Then you’ve got to…”
That evening, Hank was feeling so relieved and so relaxed that he would find himself smiling at every turn, then he realized he had a new problem: he had to find a way to tell Gwen, Bettye Jean, and the rest of the family goodbye without them becoming suspicious that something was not as it should be. The biggest problem was how he was going to handle this with Frank. He was sure he would figure it out.
He decided to go to the club, and if he could find somebody to compete, play a few games of racquetball and relax. Otherwise, just sit and relax, and savor the goodness of the return of Bonnie.
Divorcing himself from his life as Hank was much more difficult and tedious than he could have imagined; in addition to the finality of it all, it caused a ripple in his emotions that he was sure would last through eternity. On the other hand, to gain the companionship and love of Bonnie was worth any price he would have to pay.
Ninety-nine days ago, he had met with the FBI agent when she revealed that Bonnie was still alive. Today, he had been flown on a special flight, to a small town out west. There he caught a bus to another small town with a new identity, and he expected to begin a new life with the love of his life.
When he arrived at the station, he walked to the ticket counter and asked if there were any messages for him. The lady said there was one message for him, and handed it to him. It said, “Look over your right shoulder and you will see a lady with a blue and teal scarf: she will be reading a magazine. Speak to her.”
His legs were trembling, he could feel cold sweat running down his side: he heard nothing but the beat of his heart. He walked over to the lady with the blue and teal scarf, cleared his throat, and the lady looked up with a smile – it was not Bonnie! He became lightheaded. The lady said, “Hi, you must be Eric, I’m Judy and I’m pleased to meet you. Come with me, we will drive you to your new home.”
All during the drive, she talked incessantly: he said nothing. Upon arrival at the place she identified as his new home, she stopped the car and said, “This is it, good luck!” She drove away.
The house she pointed to was a quaint little cottage-type house with simple yet classy landscaping. As he began walking toward the home, he saw a figure running toward him. The closer the figure got to him, he recognized it as a woman and he too began running. When they got within about three steps of each other, they both stopped, and then rushed into each other’s arms.
Bonnie said, “Hi.”
Hank said nothing: he just held on and squeezed the love of his life, thankful for his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…
The End
Epilogue
Benchmarks of Love
LOVE! What a magical word: it is also the most misunderstood word. Strange as it may seem, a person does not have to have a great deal of intelligence to know it, to feel it, to understand it; nor does he need to be a great lover. One of the great things about the emotion is that all of us have experienced the pull of its power at one time or another.
Love! What is it?
There should be no disappointment about love, and there would be none if all of us understood the difference between the emotions of love and the desire for sex. The major difference is that love is spiritual, while the all-enduring feeling for sex is biological. The natural tendency to seek pleasure and avoid pain is part of life; however, no experience which touches the human heart with the spiritual force of love can possibly be harmful, except through ignorance or jealousy. That is a point to be made; we will savor that point exquisitely during our discourse.
Many individuals have attempted to define love; however, it is so awesome a word that, to varying degrees, everything in the world fits: one thing is for sure, it is a positive emotion, and all of us have emotions. Now, I want you to do something for me: stop what you are doing, sit back and consider this definition of LOVE!
Love is the emotion a person feels when something or someone causes that person to feel that he is the way he positively pictures himself. (Think about that simple, yet all-encompassing definition)
After all is said and done, Love is an emotion, and emotions come in all sizes, shapes, and colors; however, when it comes to the emotion of love, the size is huge, the shape is infinite, and the colors are dazzling. The most magnificent thing about love that can’t be said about any other emotion is that it always triggers very pleasant and very special feelings.
Memories of love never evaporate; in fact, they linger, guide, and influence a person long after the source of them have faded. There is nothing new in this: every person who has been moved by love in its many forms knows that it leaves enduring traces upon the human heart because it is spiritual in nature. The man or woman who cannot be stimulated by love is hopelessly depressed – in fact, though he may seem to be alive, he is dead.
If a person hungers for a means of savoring past experiences, or simply grabbing hold of an artful and most pleasant way of relaxing, he can revisit his yester years and bathe his mind in the beautiful memories of past loves. It will soften the influence of his present concerns and/or annoyances, and if need be, it could give him a source of escape from the realities of life. The result could cause his mind to yield ideas or plans that could alter the entire path of his life.
If you believe you are unfortunate because you have loved and lost, perish the thought. One who has loved truly can never lose entirely. Love is whimsical and temperamental: it comes when it pleases and goes away without warning. Accept and enjoy it while it remains, but spend no time worrying about its departure. Worry will never exchange the past for the present or future.
Dismiss also the thought that love comes but once. Love may come and go times without number, but there are no two love experiences which affect a person in the same way. Travel with me, if you will, as we share the loves of Hank. He said Delia was totally different from Erica, and Virginia was different from Bonnie, who was different from all his other associations; nevertheless each of them left deep imprints on his heart, each different than all the others; in fact, that is usually the case. Nevertheless, all love experiences are beneficial, even when a person becomes resentful and cynical (if love makes its departure). Each of us might be enjoined to avoid resentfulness and cynicism because that attitude simply makes it more difficult to find, enjoy, and embrace the next love experience.
We are going to put teeth into our quest to define love by revealing scenes of love by our mentor, Hank. During our visit with him, a person might think of the truth of his comments. He states that Love is, without question, life’s greatest experience. He believes love brings a person into communion with Infinite Intelligence; whatever is a person’s belief, when he shares himself with Infini
te Intelligence, he is sharing himself with the almighty wisdom and power of God.
When that happens and his attitude is mixed with the emotions of romance and sex, it seldom fails to lead one far up the ladder of creative effort and success. The emotions of love, sex, and romance are sides of the eternal triangle of achievement, and pave the road of success with awesome memories.
One more thing about Love: it is an emotion with many sides, shapes, and colors. But the most intense and burning of all kinds of love is that experienced in the blending of the emotions of love and the physical sensations of sex. You will note that in Hank’s first marriage… but now I’m getting ahead of myself. Nevertheless, allow me to finish this brief thought: marriages not blessed with the eternal affinity of love properly balanced and proportioned with sex cannot be happy ones – and seldom endure. Love alone will not bring happiness in marriage, nor will sex alone, Hank’s marriage to Delia was a fine example. However, when these two exquisite emotions are properly blended, marriage may bring about a state of mind closest to the supreme spiritual power and success that is possible in a person’s life.
The pinnacle of life is reached when the emotion of romance is added to that of love and sex; when that happens, the obstructions between the finite mind of man and the Infinite Intelligence of God are removed. That’s when love becomes more than just a word, it becomes a way of life, and joy becomes incidental and incremental.
The above words have meaning, to be sure; however, for them to contain substance, they need to be attached to a person. That’s where Hank comes in; the way he expressed the loves of his life provided us with glorious pictures and it is hoped that it helped us feel some measures of defining moments of love.
End of the Rainbow : There Lies the Portrait of My Love Page 15