Cynic, Surfer, Saint (Scenic Route to Paradise #1)

by Andrea Aarons

  Cynic, Surfer, Saint

  a novel

  by Andrea Aarons

  Book 1

  Scenic Route to Paradise

  Book 2 ~ Merry’s Marauders

  Book 3 ~ Catching Kate

  Book 4 ~ Desperado Dale

  Book 5 ~ Men Most Miserable

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Last Chapter

  Chapter 1 - Blinded by the Light - Merry's Marauders

  Give to me the romance of an eighteenth-century alley

  with its dark corners, where footpads lurk…

  Winston Churchill quoted over dinner with the King of D’Almata, circa 1931

  Cynic, Surfer, Saint

  Chapter 1

  Her third gig as an emergency nanny pitched Toni’s race called Life into an unexpected rabbit hole. A novel, unlooked for beginning occurred where previously Toni foresaw an uneventful ending, a foregone conclusion to her run. The necessity to pay off several credit card bills and one college loan persuaded her to take the nanny position. Toni enjoyed great rapport with children; raising three rambunctious youngsters who evolved into thoughtful, well rounded adults. If this was not certificate enough, she also spent three decades on the mission field working with children. Toni wanted flexibility and an immediate cash flow to fend off the creditors. The nanny job was a perfect fit.

  The job description of an emergency nanny required Toni to be available at beck and call. According to her employer the Nanny & More Agency, tourists or a local family whose own nanny was indisposed were the usual clients.

  On this warm June night, Toni arrived several minutes early. She was inside this particular historic hotel only once and that had been over thirty years before. It was a local landmark, four stories high and one of three older hotels returning visitors to Santa Fe, New Mexico preferred. Years ago, Toni and her fiancé lunched in the restaurant off the lobby downstairs with some of his family the day before their wedding… That had been when Toni was young and hopeful and adventurous. Now, after life dished out its best and its worst, Toni was not young and her hope was no longer vague and shapeless but deliberately focused. Adventurous desire coursed her veins yet. This last characteristic irked her parents who were at the threshold of their ninth decade and also, vexed her four sisters who were comfortably settled… even the most adventurous of them.

  Tonight, Toni would be watching the child, Misha Nelson until about midnight. Misha was eight. The grandmother, Rose Cervantes was a few years older than Toni but more worldly although less traveled. She was visiting from New York. After introductions, Grandma Rose left to join Misha’s parents for a night at the opera.

  Misha had a brother. According to her, he was always away at school. Misha added, “He is handsome but mean.” The child was a chatter-box, explaining that Grandma Rose didn’t like her brother. But Misha liked swimming and she was taking violin lessons.

  Grandma left them $50 for room service. They ordered pizza with green chili from a local dive to be delivered, instead.

  Toni wanted to work on grandma’s puzzle with Misha. The pieces were spread out covering half the table top. A picture of an European castle was far from finished but Misha wanted to put on a movie. She began searching about for the remote hidden by Toni a few moments before.

  Toni back from the mission field for well over a year continued suspicious of anything or anyone out of the ordinary because of various robberies and con jobs she fell prey to during her time abroad. That's why the ever-so-slight noise on the balcony spurred her. In an easy, well-practiced move, Toni moved her hand into her purse releasing the safety from her .32 Beretta Bobcat. Pivoting, she took a defensive stance. By the time the man stepped furtively into the room through the balcony French doors, she shifted fully to face him, leaving Misha shielded behind her.

  With gun in hand, Toni showed a poker-face, astonishing both the burglar and herself. Often paranoid to the extreme after living overseas in a high crime area of Africa, she followed through with her impulsive and oft repeated defensive practice which in the past proved futile. Seemingly, her obsessive discipline now paid off.

  Appearing to ignore the pistol, the man said, “I will not hurt you – either of you but I need to take the child.” Still, he didn’t move. And, neither did she.

  Misha fell silent. Without taking her eyes from the intruder, Toni said, “Misha, take your cell phone – it’s on the bed and go into the bathroom and lock the door. Lie down in the bathtub.” As a spasmodic afterthought, she added, “But don’t turn the water on! Call 9-1-1 and tell them to come right away because there is a dead man in your motel room. Lie down in the tub and tell them room 424.” Trying to sound authoritively confident in the silence, Toni wondered if she overplayed her hand as there was no sound of movement behind her.

  Perhaps, the girl is frozen in fear?

  “Misha,” she said sternly. “Hurry up because I am going to shoot this man if he doesn’t put his hands up in the air and drop down to the floor on his knees.”

  Toni heard shuffling as Misha picked up the phone and opened the bathroom door. The girl paused in the doorway to say, “That’s evil.”

  Toni grabbed at this straw. “Yes, it is extremely evil… and messy. Didn’t grandma tell you I was a mean nanny? Yes I am! Get in the tub and call 9-1-1!” Toni’s words were followed by the door clicking shut behind her. Toni hadn’t taken her eyes from the prowler. His features were dark and he wore black from the snug hat on his head to the sneakers on his feet. His eyes had followed Misha from her initial post in front of the television to the bed and then to the bathroom doorway. Slowly, his hands were going up but his eyes showed uncertainty and Toni sensed he was weighing up his options. As the bathroom door shut he shifted a undisguised glare toward Toni. When the man began slowly sinking to his knees, Toni hoped she would have a momentary reprieve but she was wrong. As he sprang forward, she was bowled from her feet. He was half her age and twice her size. Like a rag-doll, she collapsed. The breath was pulled from her. When her head hit the floor, Toni shut her eyes and willed her body to appear limp.

  Does he think I’ve been knocked out? She felt the gun plucked roughly from her hand.

  Standing, he tossed the pistol aside. He went to the bathroom door and gave it a forceful side kick. Toni opened her eyes. The door held. This wasn’t a budget motel. The building, walls and doors were solid. When Toni thought for sure she was going to pass out, air came rushing back into her lungs. The intruder was busily distracted having taken a piece of metal from his pocket to pick the bathroom lock.

  With forced caution, she moved, slowly sitting and then standing on wobbly legs directly behind him. The pistol was lying on the far side of the king-size bed. Doubting she could get to it before he got to the child, she cast about for an alternative weapon.

  Pepper spray! It was in her purse.

  No... Her bag was within his peripheral vision. Toni could not get to it before he got to Toni.

  The pillar-like lamp on the crowded night stand next to
the phone was huge as was all the massive furniture in the room. Toni decided she probably couldn’t even lift it over her head to bring it down squarely on his.

  The gun, it will have to be the gun.

  The pizza call had been made from a number found in the thin Santa Fe phone book. It was laying open next to Toni. The bathroom door was swinging wide under his hand when a loud thump near the French Doors made the apparent kidnapper jump and then, veer toward the balcony. As he turned one way, Toni sprang the other way. She landed next to the gun and rolled over to sit up.

  “Buddy… you are so dead!” She yelled. Spinning around to face her, a curse hissed between his teeth. He underestimated this woman and undoubtedly, his boss had too.

  Giddy with success, she shouted, “I’m ticked… When I am this ticked-off, I do cra-a-azy things.” Toni was indignant and it was oh-so-true that she defaulted to impetuous improvisation when angry. “Now, get over by the doors,” she commanded with a thrust of her pale chin toward the balcony.

  Forcing herself to remain calm, Toni said with firmness, “You’re out of chances.” He moved toward the French doors.

  “Why don’t you get down on your knees because if you don’t I will shoot you right between the eyes. According to my late husband, I’m an excellent shot,” she explained while emphasizing the word ‘late’. Smirking at the insinuation, Toni’s face showed determination too. Any uncertainty the criminal witnessed in the woman before had vanished. With an intake of breath sounding like a dry sob, the man put his hands up and wondered if the gun would go off; her finger was on the trigger. It hadn’t been before.

  Inching back from the bed, Toni stood, both hands wrapped round the .32. “One move and I’m unloading all nine shots. I might not want to wait for the police to arrive.” They both knew she meant what she said. The compromised scenario placed full guilt on the intruder whether he lived or died.

  It seemed an honest hour later when the police did arrive but the guy delivering the pizza came to the door on the officers’ heels and he assured her that their order was placed only 30 minutes before. Giving him the $50, Toni told him to keep the change. The police explained that they always prioritize their response when there has been a shooting. Of course, no one was shot or dead - Misha gave both descriptions to the 9-1-1 operator. The officers weren’t disappointed but irritated that the message was wrong: No one was shot and no one was dead.

  Without going into detail, Toni said, “What do you expect from an eight year old?”

  The empty ambulances drove away and the would-be kidnapper was hauled off. All but two police officers left the scene. The four of them were eating cold pizza when grandma Rose and Misha’s parents arrived from their night at the opera. Toni had hoped to have a quiet evening with Misha asleep when Rose Cervantes returned. She wanted time alone to worry over her debts, like a dog worrying over his bone – as the saying goes. It wasn’t to be; not with a failed kidnapping taking place and Toni playing the hero.

  First one officer and then the other relayed to the astounded parents what had happened. Next, Misha piped-up with how mean a person Toni turned out to be but she was “okay because the bad man needed someone really mean to keep him in line.” Toni’s smile was imperceptive when both policemen nodded seriously, understandingly at the child’s words. Misha’s parents, the Nelson’s showed incredulity and agitated Grandma Rose kept insisting she was going to faint but she never did.

  Although Toni, like myriads of Americans, carried a concealed weapon, she hadn’t planned to bring her Beretta with her. Her day had been busily filled and she forgot she was packing a pistol until she heard the scrape and the grunt echo from the hotel terrace. At that critical moment, Toni Merriweather remembered. Later, on her way home she silently rejoiced, Oh happy day! My .32 was in my purse!

  Toni walked the dogs and read the online news before falling asleep at 4am. Normally, she was an early riser although she certainly was not a morning person, nor were her dogs, Blondie and Blue morning dogs. Accordingly, everyone slept-in until almost ten.

  She was met with a bright New Mexico day and Toni decided it was going to be hot. At over 7000 feet, the capital city, Santa Fe got sunny warm, even hot but seldom sweltering in the summer months.

  Recently, she had moved into what she called a “cozy cottage” off of Upper Canyon Road. A squat dwelling made of adobe bricks, with deep windows, low viga beamed ceilings and whitewashed walls which suited her taste. The owners, Floyd and Dottie Sanders confided that this guesthouse was the original home before the newer larger house was built in the ‘80s. Toni liked the cottage immensely although she simplified her possessions to fit within the cramped space. Mountain views, expansive yard and private entrance made up for the snug size and besides, the landlords offered her a generous deal. The larger house was their vacation home making the place empty 9 and sometimes, 10 months of the year. Twice since they purchased the property, it was burglarized. The previous renter of the “cozy cottage” was deemed negligent. The Sanders heard that Toni needed a place from their youngest son, Josh who lived in Santa Fe with his wife and infant; the young family were part of the same church as Toni. The rental agreement was a win-win for the landlords and for the tenant, Toni.

  On this cool June morning following such an unusual late night, Toni was bewildered as she wasn’t sore like she assumed she would be. She was stiff. Sitting in the sunny yard on a wrought iron chair, Toni sipped Kenyan tea, hot with cream and honey. Foggy minded, she tried sorting through life’s latest events.

  The dogs sniffed about the garden as she watched. They were careful not to trample any plants as that offense got a rebuke from their mistress, Toni. Although, she wasn’t much of a gardener and would never be accused of having a green thumb, she appreciated fresh tomatoes, never buying store tomatoes. Snow peas and several herbs were endeavoring to survive too but it was a late planting, even by Northern New Mexico standards. No matter, these greens were nearly effortless to grow as long as the dogs didn’t interfere and Toni hoped to get sufficient harvest from her slight labor.

  The last of the Lilacs were in bloom and their perfume traveled over the coyote fence from the main yard. Lilac was a Santa Fe early summer smell as much as roasted green chili was the city’s late summer smell.

  It was difficult to be worried about her looming debts in such a cosseted setting as this. Even so, Toni concentrated on her bills and tried to work up some real concern but the Lilacs acted as sedation. After an indifferent struggle, she conceded to the lazy day and the morning calm which overtook her.

  The minutes passed and then Toni trotted stiffly inside to get another cup of tea and to retrieve her cell phone. The phone was dead. She plugged it in before returning to the patio. The dogs plopped down in shaded dirt next to the adobe wall that separated her yard from Canyon Road.

  Toni decided if she couldn’t worry over her debts, the least she could do was focus on her income.

  The emergency nanny position was working out commendably but with anxiety, she mulled over the agency’s anticipated response to the previous evening’s disturbance. To be sure, Misha’s parents were extremely grateful that the mishap was handled with deft skill and that their daughter was safely delivered from any violence but Toni was carrying a gun; a weapon, loaded and at the ready while on the job. An intuitive thought flitted hummingbird like through her mind. Sighing, the thought that she would be fired over last night’s ordeal persisted. A gut centered intuition she arbitrarily experienced was rarely wrong. Cultivating these inner perceptions as a missionary had been beneficial over the years. Godly insight was best not to be ignore she had discovered.

  I will be fired. She sighed again.

  The cell phone beeped in the distance. Toni murmured, “It was dead but now it lives again.” She unfolded from the chair and went inside to see who was buzzing her.

  Two text messages and a voicemail.

  Misha’s father had called! She listened to the message: He thanked Toni on
ce again for her quick thinking and actions and he added that he and his wife would like to meet with her, as soon as possible. Toni did a little jig as Blondie, a Boxer mix, cocked her head, one ear up in wonder at her mistress.

  Toni sang out as she headed for the bathroom, “Hallelujah, happy days are here again.” She brushed her teeth and then returned Todd Nelson’s call.

  Would she like to have lunch with them at the café in the hotel lobby?

  Sure!

  You bet!

  You’re darn tootin’…!

  Instead she replied, “Mr. Nelson, it would be a pleasure to meet with you and Mrs. Nelson for lunch. How kind of you. And how is little Misha?” Pause… “I’m glad to hear she is no worse for the wear, as they say. What a traumatic ordeal for an eight year old to experience.” Pause… “Fine. I’ll see you at one.” They hung up.

  Toni’s gut feeling said that there was a job in the making and most probably, the Nelsons were aiming to hire her as a nanny.

  “You’re darn tootin’,” she shouted.

  Toni checked her text messages; her daughter, Merry wanted Toni to check her e-mail and the Nanny & More Agency asked her to give them a call at her convenience. Shower first and perhaps, one more cup of tea and then, get fired.

  Toni parked the faded green pick-up truck on the street in front of the hotel. The required coins were dropped into the parking meter before she proceeded across the street and stepped inside. She was early. Having 10 minutes to spare, Toni sat down in the lobby to call her supervisor at Nanny & More.

  It was official. She was fired.

  Deciding the time had come to revisit and to re-worry about those debts, Toni commenced a full fledged worry work-out when Misha’s mother walked into the lobby. Toni stood smiling as Mrs. Nelson looked her way.

  Chapter 2

  After the waiter took Toni’s grilled chicken salad order leaving the trio to themselves, Todd Nelson began his own grilling. He wanted to know everything about Toni… her job history, her family, her faith. If Toni had known that the Nelsons already ran a thorough background check on her, she may have been more detailed recounting her life history. As it was Marie-Antoinette Merriweather, that is, Toni gave a limited outline, concluding her summary by the time lunch arrived.