by Robin Shope
Now came the third tap on her door. It slowly opened. Lucy quickly sat up on her elbows expecting to see Joe, her smile brightening with the thought. Instead Mike stood in the opening.
“Just checking on you.”
“What time is it?” Lucy’s smile evaporated as she reached for her alarm clock.
“Seven.”
“Seven?” Lucy jumped out of bed and rummaged around for a bathrobe. She found it at the bottom of the bed and snatched it up.
“Don’t bother hurrying. He’s gone already.”
“Oh, no!” Lucy slipped the robe over her flannel nightgown and rushed downstairs. She looked through the kitchen window to the driveway. Sure enough his car was gone. The only thing left were tire tracks. Disappointment flooded her emotions. Lucy turned around and faced Mike. “You were very rude to Joe last night. He’s an employee of ours now and you will treat him with the utmost respect. Do you hear me?” She jabbed him hard in the stomach.
“There’s something about him I just don’t trust, sis,” Mike said. “He’s hiding something.”
“Well, after your shenanigans yesterday, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised, if once he got back to Chicago, he didn’t send us an email saying ‘after careful consideration, I’ve decided not to take the position with your little paper because of that offensive brat your parents named Mike Collins!’” Now she wagged her finger at him.
“It’d be fine with me if he did that.” Mike walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Well, it wouldn’t be all right with me.” Lucy followed close behind him. “And it wouldn’t be all right with Mom or Dad. And it wouldn’t be all right with everyone at the paper. We need him.” Lucy stared at the pan and mugs she used for hot chocolate last night. They had been washed and set in the dish drain at the side of the sink. She hadn’t done that and was fairly sure Mike hadn’t either. Mike never carried his dishes to the sink let alone clean something. With her parents still in bed, it had to be Joe. He was thoughtful.
Mike blew on his coffee and then took his first sip. “Ahhhh, that is so good.” After his second sip, he said, “We’ll get by just fine without him.”
“I hope so because we just might have to do it without him.” She puffed out angrily.
“There’s something odd about him.”
She gave her brother a long look. There was an element of truth in Mike’s words but she hoped he was wrong.
“When he gets back to Turtle Creek, guard your heart.”
“You mean, if he comes back.”
“Oh, he’s coming back. I just have to figure out why he’s coming back.”
****
December 3
Back at his Chicago residence, Joe McNamara showered and changed clothes. He checked himself in the mirror. Although falling apart on the inside, he looked perfectly put together on the outside which was all that mattered, for now. Not only had he learned valuable techniques of dealing with perception but he had mastered them. Satisfied he was ready, he left the apartment and went to the office like any other normal entrepreneur in a suit and tie. He’d save his business causal for the newspaper. It was important to fit in when he got back to Turtle Creek.
Joe stepped into the elevator and pressed the round black button for the sixth floor. A couple of women standing to his side started sending him looks. Giggling. Whispers. Snickering now. Joe checked them out. There weren’t wedding or engagement rings on their well-manicured fingers. Still they wore plenty of bling.
He noticed the slightest things about people. Things no one else would think to note. Like the earring that had fallen from the blonde’s earlobe and now lay lodged in a fold of her blouse. There was a minute scuffmark on the side of a shoe worn by the second woman. Yes, he noticed everything, especially women when their make up and coiffed hair were perfect like on these two. It was a challenge to find something wrong about them but he always succeeded. No one was perfect and it thrilled him to discover what that was.
They tried too hard to be beautiful. It made him wonder what they were like au natural …like Lucy Collins was. One look and he knew she was decidedly not high maintenance. However, she came with other requirements that could be more deadly. Loyalty. Honesty. Commitment. He could handle fake women just fine; it was the sincere ones who rattled him.
The silver doors slid open. His floor. He stepped out in the welcome area, feeling almost like this was the first time he had done so, but he had walked this way for a couple of years.
“Good morning, Mr. McNamara,” the receptionist greeted.
“Morning, Phyllis.” Joe nodded and then went by her, heading for the back office. He stood for a moment in the doorway wondering if he was about to make a huge mistake by taking a leave of absence. His psychiatrist was within blocks of the office which was handy when his mind spiraled toward the dark tunnel again. Maybe he really should stay and work through all his issues.
On one hand, Angela Steel, his coworker and former girlfriend, knew he had been considering taking a leave of absence for some time and did all that was within her power to make him stay here, including offering him a partnership. On the other, his psychiatrist, Dr. Boshar, encouraged Joe to take time off and try to rekindle his passion for life. After spending a couple of days in Turtle Creek, he knew he needed to go with Dr. Boshar’s advice and he also knew just where that time off would be spent.
Joe stared at his framed diplomas on the wall. He didn’t think twice as he began taking them down.
“What are you doing?” Joe turned to discover Angela had come in the room behind him. Standing with her hands on her hips, she shook her head at him, making the gold loop earrings part the strands of her auburn hair.
“I told you last week I might leave for a while. After taking some time over the weekend to think about it, I have decided to do just that. Since you will be short handed, I figured you might want to hire someone else so I’m clearing out my office.” He set the frames down and leaned over his desk to press the call button on his phone. “Phyllis, would you contact maintenance and get boxes for me, please?”
“Right away, sir.”
“You can’t do this right now,” Angela insisted. “I counted on you accepting my partnership. Joe, you’re the brightest and best I know. I trust you.”
Joe slowly lowered himself into the expensive, Italian leather chair behind his desk. “I hate to disappoint you but if I am not able to do my best work then I’m no good to anyone, least of all you.”
“Ah, sweetie, let me be the judge of that, will you?” she asked softly as she sat on the corner of his desk. Joe could smell her perfume which at one time had been appealing; now, it seemed almost overpowering. Angela’s beauty was so striking that just being in the room with her compelled one to look at her. She was the total package—extremely rich, wildly successful, and exotically stunning.
On some level, Joe knew she still thought she loved him which was another good reason to leave. Their relationship had always been complicated but she had stuck by him through some terrible moments in his life these past few years. He owed her for that and she worked it, until he was finally drained of all feelings for her. There was nothing left to offer.
“I know what this is really about.” Angela looked at him through heavy mascara-lined eyes, analyzing him.
“Oh?” Joe couldn’t meet her gaze. He looked away, thinking of Turtle Creek, the special ornaments and the Douglas fir all gussied up with them. He had put on the string of lights, and that was no easy task with the way they had been stored, all jumbled together. He’d come up with a better system for the Collins family by next year.
“Joe…” Angela started to shake his arm. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Why do they celebrate Christmas in the country differently than here in the city?” He looked up at her with his first smile of the day.
“Huh?” she shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
“Here in the city everyone b
uys the most expensive ornaments without thinking about sentimentality, but in the country, each ornament is unique and has a story all its own. I like that.” Joe leaned back in his chair and turned to face the window. He stared out at the frozen water of Lake Michigan.
Angela walked in between Joe and his view. “Joe…hello?” She looked worried. “Come back to me, please.”
“And people in the country take the time to write letters instead of sending emails.”
“That’s because people in the country only have dial-up. Okay, I can see you need time off.” Now she was disgusted. “Take whatever you need. Your office and the offer will still be here when you get back.” She straightened her back.
“I appreciate it, Angela.”
“You better!” she snapped at him with a smile. “In the meantime, keep in touch and leave your forwarding information with Phyllis. Beware—I am going to check up on you.”
The Christmas Edition
The Christmas Edition
Chapter Four
December 4
Joe couldn’t move his arms or legs. He lay in the midst of his bedraggled covers, breathing slowly. Soaked to the bone with perspiration, he was cold and wet, as if he had been pulled from an ice bath. He saw the hint of a gray dawn around him and wasn’t sure if he was awake or still asleep. The two worlds seem to mesh at times. He struggled to move from the bed but felt bound there by unseen hands. “Hudson? Is that you?” His eyes gazed wildly around the room.
Suddenly, the room became even colder as a white mist began to plug his nose and mouth. It stopped his breath. He began coughing and flailing against it.
“Where are you, Doctor? Where are you? I need you! I have to find you.” He could see someone running out of the room, down the hall, and through a door, but the voice remained a dark ghostly whisper in his head. “Where should I go? What should I do? I have to get out of here. Help me! Ah, stairs. I see stairs. I need air.” A man ran up the steps, out the door.
Joe was on the roof now. The air was cold, so cold it made him shake. All he wanted now was his bed. He went for the door. It had locked behind him. He’d freeze here. He shook uncontrollably. Slowly the edge of the building called to him. He tried to resist but it mocked. Had to refocus. Look away. There was steam coming from a pipe at his side. He’d keep warm there. He hurried to it; maybe he could survive until morning. Maybe.
Joe lunged forward and sat up in bed; he was fully awake feeling a terrible hopelessness. At last his legs worked. He dangled them over the side of the bed. Joe reached for the phone to call Dr. Boshar, whose number was on speed dial. It was on its second ring when Joe changed his mind and slammed the phone back down.
After regaining his equilibrium, Joe stood up and stiffly walked into the bathroom. There he rinsed out his mouth and blew his nose. Leaning against the counter, he took several deep breaths before turning on the sink faucets full blast and putting his head under. Standing up, the water ran down his neck and onto his chest. He turned off the water and stared in the mirror for a moment before pressing a towel into his face. You’re out of your mind, Joe. You shouldn’t be going anywhere. The only place you should go is with Hudson . Joe jerked back as if fighting off an invisible opponent.
He walked out of the bathroom slowly. Everything was still in its place. Just the way he had left it the night before. No one there. No sign of the nightmare. Joe tore off the bed sheets and padded down the hall to the washing machine. He stuffed the sheets inside, poured detergent on top without measuring, turned the gauge to hot, slammed down the lid and punched the on button. Immediately, water began flowing into the tub.
Joe went to the kitchen and read the list. The night before he jotted down a number of items he wanted to take with him. Working off this list, he packed his suitcase and boxes with surgical precision. Only to be interrupted by a high-pitched ring. Joe picked up the phone. He didn’t speak. It might be Hudson. When Hudson was around, Joe had to be invisible. Sometimes the specter played tricks on him, making him hear things that weren’t there.
Someone sounded breathless on the line. “Hello? Hello?”
“Yes?” Joe answered warily.
“Is this Joe McNamara?” He recognized the sound of Lucy’s voice, a voice that brought music back to his soul and flooded the room with color.
“It is!” he laughed, feeling normal once again. “And would this be Lucy Collins of The Turtle Creek Newspaper?”
“None other.” Her laughter was like wind sweeping through a house, chasing out the cobwebs and ghosts. “I called to check on my new ace reporter.”
“I am almost finished packing, Boss.”
“Then you are really coming?” her voice filled with relief.
“Yes, if the offer is still good. Lucy, is everything okay?” he asked in a concerned manner.
She sighed. “I was worried after Mike was so awful the other night. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided not to come, but I hoped and prayed you would.”
“Of course, I have my contract to honor.” He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of tomato juice.
“What contract? I don’t remember giving you a contract.”
“Your dad’s handshake.” He smiled, already feeling like he was building memories with this family.
“Oh, that’s right. Good old Dad. By the way, Mom and I spent all day yesterday cleaning out the apartment.”
“You really didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, yes we did. You say that only because you have no idea how bad it was, but it’s all clean now with fresh sheets on your bed and…”
“Let me guess…there’s a blue towel on the rack in the bathroom.”
Lucy laughed again. It was filled with happiness and it made him smile knowing he had put that feeling inside of her. It was a nice change.
****
Daylight burned as he turned onto the Interstate. In a couple of hours, he’d be back in Turtle Creek. Odd how the answers he sought might end up being in a small town.
Why are you doing this ?
“The answer is simple, Hudson. I have a story, but as you know, it’s not a pretty one I can blurt out at Christmas. For years, I’ve planned on writing the ending for it. Now is my chance. My one chance.” Joe had an Achilles' heel inside his soul.
The black line on the Interstate was buffed with snow and seemed to go on forever. Then, as if out of nowhere, came the sign “Welcome to Wisconsin.” Joe put on his right turn signal and accelerated.
There was something he wanted. Something he had needed for a long time. For the first time in years, he felt hope as he drove back into the Collins’ driveway. He didn’t even have the SUV all the way in gear when he saw her. Lucy was running out the door toward him. Long legs wearing tight jeans were headed his way. With her curly blonde hair blowing in the cold winter’s air, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Joe grabbed a hold of the door handle and jumped out. She looked at him as though she didn’t have a care in the world. He’d give anything to feel that way again.
****
Right after her phone conversation with Joe, Lucy sent Mike out of town for the day. His assignment was to scout out towns in Walworth County and report back about the most festive Christmas decorations. Her motive was two-fold—collect information for a newspaper piece and get him out of the way while Joe settled in.
After she reviewed Mike’s information, she’d head back to photograph the street decorations and get sound bites from the residents about holiday shopping and traditions. She envisioned adorable holiday shorts for the newspaper in the coming weeks up to Christmas. People loved to read about their towns which made it an excellent way to pump up circulation. Joe didn’t know it now but he was going to do the interviewing as she took pictures.
Proactive, Lucy looked for ways to impress her Dad with smart business decisions. She felt this was one way to show him and make it obvious to him she could handle the company. She worked tirelessly, learning every aspect of the trade f
rom handling customers at the front desk to laying out the spread, to the delivery of the newspaper. Her latest feat was hiring Joe as their new editor.
Mike took a more laid-back approach, which was fine with Lucy, although he was good in a pinch and never complained. Lucy suspected someday he’d go off on his own and work for someone else. The newspaper wasn’t his forte; it was just convenient. For Lucy, the newspaper was her life.
On numerous occasions, before he passed away, her grandfather told Lucy that once Harold retired he wanted her to be the next owner and manager. “It’s time for a smart female to take over and shake things up!” was the exact phrase he used.
Remembering those good times with him always made her reflective. “I’m doing my best to make you proud of me, Grandpa.” Lucy stood, looking out the window again, still watching for Joe.