by Rick Simnitt
“Well, you see, I have gained quite a few contacts over the years, some on the, let’s just say, less seemly side of the law.” He paused, noting Tawny taking an involuntary step back in revulsion from the announcement.
“Yes, unfortunately, being in my position, both as a physician and my father’s ties, I am forced to carry some hefty burdens. But if the Stanton’s can help my friends in their time of need, I will carry those burdens without complaint.” The false self-effacement was nauseating to Gregg, yet it elicited a sympathetic look and hand on the shoulder from Tawny. Gregg simply shook his head in disbelief at the two.
“Anyhow,” Darrion continued, “when I heard what had happened to the boy, I thought that some of my acquaintances may be able to get in and find Beverley where the police and FBI have failed.” He paused for effect. “They may have the contacts the police don’t. Not that the police aren’t doing the best they can, mind you, its just that, well, the police are so backward at times.”
The statement fit exactly Tawny’s impression of the local constabulary, and the idea intrigued her. Not that she could approve of such a good man tainting himself with these associations, but she had a duty to perform as a mother and felt that there may be no other way to find her prodigal daughter.
Gregg, on the other hand, knew that the Stanton’s did indeed have many “less seemly” associates, many of which had been retained by the family to help smooth over the obstacles they faced, often ending with someone in the hospital or cemetery. He also knew there wasn’t a single altruistic bone in the family; there was a price tag associated with this “assistance” and he had the nauseating feeling that he would be forced to sacrifice either his daughter or his integrity. Again. He didn’t have much integrity left anyway, he belittled himself.
“Exactly what will this aid cost us?” he asked, winning a scathing look from his wife and a feigned hurt look from his adversary.
“Gregg, I can’t believe you would say that, after all the years our families have been friends. It hurts me to think that you would think so little of me.”
The senator didn’t buy it for a minute, but had no recourse but to apologize given the situation, although he did manage a great deal of sarcasm as he did so. “Sorry, Darrion, I can’t think of where that came from. I’m sure you just have our peace of mind at heart.”
Stanton smiled his most disarming smile. “Think nothing of it Gregg. I’m sure it’s just the long, hard days of worrying. Why, it’s been a whole week now, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” Gregg confirmed. “Well, as you said, I’m a little out of sorts today, after seeing what those monsters did to that poor man, and thinking what they could have done to my little girl. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go try to catch a nap. Thank-you for thinking of us.” He turned, gesturing toward the front door.
“Of course.” Stanton strode over to the door, followed by Gregg, leaving Tawny to shut the music down. He paused a moment before the entry way, and mentioned to Gregg, loud enough to ensure Tawny could hear it, “And thank-you too. I’m sure you would do the same for me. If there was something you could do to help with something I wanted, I’m sure you would stop at nothing to see that it was done. Nothing. Not when a daughter’s life was at stake.”
He stared at the shorter man, a malevolent look on his face ensuring there was no doubt to his implication. The horror that showed on the senator’s face assured him that it was not, and he turned, heading out the door toward his awaiting corvette.
Tawny walked back over to Gregg. “I’m sure you will do everything in your power to get our daughter back, won’t you?”
His shoulder’s slumped, his eyes red threatening fresh tears, he nodded. “Yes, dear, I will.”
She watched him walk slowly toward his office and through the door, closing it behind him. She realized that she too had something that needed doing to protect her daughter. An idea flitted through her mind, bringing a smile to her face. Yes, she too had something to do.
She left the house in the gold Lexus, arriving at the hospital a few minutes later. The heat of the day was most unbearable, but the strong engine of the luxury car lent power to the air conditioner, cooling the interior quickly. It had the effect of reminding Tawny of her position, bracing her for what was coming. Not that it would be hard, to the contrary, this would be a rejuvenating discussion. It was just that she despised even talking to the hideous man.
She entered the hospital room and noticed immediately that the man lying on the bed was looking much better than he was when she had left him several hours ago. She strode up to his sleeping form and shook his shoulder to wake him. He moaned at the movement, and then slowly opened his eyes. She stood back a few feet, feeling dirty just standing this close to the man.
“Mr. Frindle, I am Tawny Windham, Beverley’s mother.”
He tried to speak, licked his lips to give them moisture, swallowed painfully, and then tried again to talk. “I know…” he rasped.
“Of course you would,” she responded disgustedly. “I am here because my daughter needs to be protected.” She paused for a moment to let the insinuations sink in.
“You see,” she continued, “somehow you have beguiled my daughter, for rather obvious reasons.” She looked him up and down, attempting in vain to see what her offspring must have noticed.
“So what you will do is very simple. You will not see my daughter again. You will also tell your Mormon friends to do the same. I’m sure even you can handle that.”
He tried to say something, but found he was still too exhausted from his ordeal. Finally he just shook his head.
“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Frindle. I am not making a suggestion or merely asking. I am telling you that you cannot, will not, see Beverley again. You must know that I have the power to make your life extremely uncomfortable, and I will not hesitate to do so. I can break you more easily than that heathen broke your ribs!”
She was breathing heavily, evidence of the depth of her passion. She took a deep breath before continuing her tirade, but was interrupted by the croaking voice originating at the head of the bed.
“No. I, we, love….” It was too much for him, and he collapsed back on the pillow.
Tawny laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! Love has nothing to do with this. You see, Mr. Frindle, Beverley is not like you or your religious fanatics with whom you associate. She is a Windham and is out of your league. Way out. She couldn’t possibly love you and as soon as she is found I’m sure she will come to recognize it for what it was, simply being a rebellious child.”
She noticed that tears were slipping down his cheeks and she smiled knowing that she was getting through. She knew she was hurting him and didn’t really care. He was just a lower class commoner. Really, she was doing him a favor. She decided to clinch the deal.
“I understand that you may think you love her, but as you can plainly see, it is just a fling to try to get at me. However, I will help you get over this easier.” She reached into her bag and withdrew her checkbook. She wrote out a check, tore it from the pad, and placed it on the table beside the bed.
“That will help a great deal I’m sure. It’s more than you could possibly earn in six months, probably a year. Enjoy your newfound riches. Go find yourself a nice little Mormon girl in your own class and have lots of little kiddies.”
She turned to leave, then spoke over her shoulder, “Just remember, you can be hurt much worse than the mere bruises you have now. Now we wouldn’t want that to happen would we.”
She smiled, victorious. So much for Peter Frindle and that cult of his. Now she just needed to fix Gregg and that insolent attitude he had developed.
* * *
Bill showed up at the McConnell’s early to spend some time with six-year-old Kate, whom he hadn’t seen for over a year, since before the accident. To his delight, she not only remembered him, but also still had the crush on him she had felt since she was barely three. Nancy McConnell never let him forget the t
ime he had held her little three-year-old Kate and agreed that someday when she grew up he would marry her.
He could still remember asking Kate if it would be okay to marry Lacy. She had screwed up her face as if she were going to cry, then nodded somberly and quietly said, “It’s okay, if you really like her.” They had all laughed, but now the thought saddened him, the memory triggering his still healing grief.
He turned his attention back to the checkerboard and the mature acting tot sitting across from him. “Beating his socks off of him,” as his grandmother always used to say. He smiled at her concentration, busily analyzing her next move as if her whole world hinged on the outcome of this game. So far she had beaten him three times, with just a little help from him, and it looked as if this game would end the same. One of the best ways to befriend a youngster was to lose a game of checkers to them.
The doorbell rang behind him and he turned from where he laid face down on the floor to see who his blind date would be tonight. His stomach tightened at the thought of dating, and he wasn’t very happy to have learned that Jack and Nancy had arranged one, pretty much behind his back.
At first he was angry with them, but he knew that they looked at him more as a little brother than a co-worker. His dad had taken Jack under his wing while he was a rookie and recent law school dropout. He was always looking out for him and teaching him the ropes of police work, and the politics of being a police officer. Bill had grown up around the McConnell’s to the point where he sometimes forgot the difference in their rank. He just wished they would leave him in peace about his social life. Not unlike most caring families, they adamantly refused.
“Welcome to our humble home,” he heard Nancy say to the new visitor. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the family. This is my husband, whom I believe you have already met. And this is my ‘little brother’ Bill”
Bill stood up, the checker game momentarily forgotten, and took a deep breath before turning to meet the innocent conspirator. “Hi, glad to…Lissa!”
“Bill? What are you doing here?” a surprised Lissa Brandon replied. “You’re Nancy’s brother? I had no idea.”
He chuckled. “No, not really. We kinda grew up together, so it feels that way sometimes. And you must be the ‘cute doc’ Jack was talking about.”
She reddened at the appellation, but smiled in pleasure at the compliment. “I assume from your face you knew nothing of all this?” she observed.
He sent a scowl hurtling toward a beaming Jack McConnell as he answered. “Not until a few minutes ago. You see my ‘big brother’ here feels the need to get me re-attached.” He turned back to her with a big smile, “but in this case, I will agree he has great taste.”
She blushed again, feeling the warmth of acceptance from the group. She liked the idea of attachment to these people, even though she was little more than an acquaintance. She covered her feelings quickly though, turning to introduce herself to the small girl standing next to her, impatiently waiting to be acknowledged.
“And who is this pretty lady?”
“I’m Kate, and Bill is going to marry me when I grow up.” She grinned widely at the attention, and the reaction to her announcement.
Lissa laughed lightly at the comment, and then looked up at Bill, who was now taking his turn with crimson cheeks. Not as much at the comment, he knew, as to his reaction to the tinkling sound of his blind date’s laughter. He decided he enjoyed the feeling that it sparked, and joined in the game.
“That’s right. But right now she’s only this many,” he held up three fingers, much to Kate’s indignation.
“I am not. I’m six now!” She put her hands on her hips and glared at the man, bringing another round of laughter from the crowd, including Kate after she realized he was only teasing.
Nancy broke into the conversation with the announcement that dinner would be ready in just a few minutes. She asked Bill and Lissa to assist in setting the table, a not-so-subtle attempt to get them together.
They moved toward the kitchen in the large home, grabbed the plates and utensils, and then headed toward the recently added formal dining room. It was an obvious addition to the home and Lissa commented on it.
“Actually, most of the original home has been lost with all of the additions and renovations,” Bill informed proudly, circling the table while placing the plates in front of the chairs. “When they first moved here it was a one bedroom shack, the living room taking up nearly half the house.”
“That is a big living room,” Lissa agreed, following behind him, arranging the silverware around the plates. “They’ve done a lot with it.”
Bill chuckled at the comment, winning him a confused look. “That living room we just left,” he clarified, “was the house. We tore out all of the inner walls after they got the left wing finished, and came up with this. The only thing we didn’t move was the guest bathroom, which used to be the kitchen. We needed the water for the fixtures.”
She stared at him dumbfounded, and then looked around the house again. The front door was off to the right of the dwelling, and opened into the spacious great room. On the right of the entry way was a door leading into what appeared to be the kitchen/guest bathroom, and just behind it the room sank into the kids’ playroom, complete with toy chests, book shelves, and a small TV/DVD combo surrounded by Disney videos.
She continued her visual tour from there, following the side wall until it jutted out to create the large formal dining room, complete with a chandelier over the table. Then on to the huge kitchen, with its yards of cabinetry, counter space, and center-island right in the middle of a long aisle separating the two sides of the room. She could see that the other end of the kitchen had an opening into a hall, which presumably led to the bedrooms. She also noted that in the center of living room side of the kitchen wall sat a large fireplace, with a rough-hewn log for a mantle.
Then she noticed all of the pictures and wall hangings. There was hardly any space on the walls that didn’t have something hanging on it. One wall was lined with what appeared to be a chronological history of Kate, beginning on the left with an 8x10 of her as a newborn, leading up through what appeared to be her kindergarten picture. It was a wonderful idea, Lissa thought, something she would have to do some day.
However the one thing that really caught her attention was the large painting that held a place of prominence over the fireplace. It was of Christ looking over his shoulder, wearing a scarlet robe and looking somehow sad. It made her feel like he was watching in discouragement at the world, at how they continued to reject his message of happiness. She felt captivated by it, as if He were speaking directly to her to do her part in bringing about his plan. She also felt humbled, knowing that there was always more that she could do, if she could only get past her own selfish desires.
“Impressive, isn’t it.” She nearly jumped at the startling voice of Nancy at her shoulder. She had been so caught up in the painting that she didn’t even notice her approach.
“Yes it is. It’s like He’s calling on us to help him help others. Something I think we all need to work on.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Nancy agreed soberly, “but there’s something more to it. Like he has something specific He wants us to do, and is sad because we haven’t done it. I never have figured out what that is, but someday I’m sure I will.” Then, shaking off the mood she continued, “Come on, dinner’s on the table, and I don’t want my special enchiladas getting cold.”
Lissa smiled, following her hostess into the formal dining room, noticing that the rest of the family was already seated. She took a seat next to Bill, the one left conspicuously vacant, and looked around at the smiles surrounding her. She glanced over at Bill, unsure if there would be a prayer on the meal or not. She didn’t have to wait long, as they all took hands and Jack intoned a simple but heartfelt prayer of gratitude over the food they were about to enjoy.
“So Bill,” Jack began the conversation as he took a big helping of the delectable sm
elling concoction before him, “I see you and Lissa are already acquainted. I take it that there is more than simply taking that report the other day?”
Bill wasn’t quite sure what to say, and was saved by Lissa. “He keeps showing up wherever I go. I think I might need to get the police involved.” She smiled at him, noting that he was again turning a lovely shade of scarlet.
“He does have a habit of doing that you know,” chimed in a giggling Nancy.
“Don’t you dare!” Bill exclaimed, succeeding only in producing a wider grin from the woman.
“This sounds pretty serious,” Lissa prompted, egging Nancy on, and loving the reaction on Bill’s face.
“Oh it is,” Nancy replied, a look of mock sobriety on her face. “You see, Bill has this way of trying to get to know people that some find somehow odd….”
“Nancy, don’t go there,” Bill tried to warn her, to no avail.
“It’s okay, Bill, she needs to know what to look out for,” Nancy soothed, as if Bill were a small child. Lissa noticed that Jack was having trouble swallowing from the laughter he was trying to hold back.
“There was this one girl that he really liked,” Nancy continued, “and wanted to get her attention. So one night he decided to follow her home. Only she had no idea who he was at the time, and thought she was in real danger. So she called the police.”
Lissa glance over at Jack again, and noticed he had completely given up eating until he was able to calm back down. She also noticed that behind the crimson cheeks, Bill was also struggling to hold back a grin. She found herself engrossed in the story, and was smiling widely as well. “What did they do?”
“Oh, they sent out their finest officer, one who was recently made Lieutenant,” she responded. Lissa’s look jumped back to Jack, who was nodding vigorously, now laughing so hard that he had tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Yep, good old Lieutenant Jack McConnell. Well, he was out to save the world, so he got at least a dozen cruisers out there, surrounded him and had him on the ground before anyone knew what was happening.”