When we turned to a Puccini aria, Byron’s voice glided through a complete octave in a slip-sliding, smooth descent, blending the tones in a glasslike transition. I’d heard the technique used before, but had never analyzed it and couldn’t remember what it was called. We all burst into applause when the final, haunting notes of the song reverberated through the room and finally settled out to a hushed silence.
“Did you folks like that one?” He could barely hide his proud smile.
The girls and Porter applauded, with comments like “Lovely!” and “Incredible!”
“Wow,” I said, turning to face him. “What’s that called? That slip-slide thing you did with your voice?”
“Indeed, my theory-challenged friend. It’s called ‘portamento,’ a technique I’ve been perfecting this year. The notes are not sung individually, but each is reached, subtly and slowly, as the quarter and half-tones blend together to progress through the scale.”
I just smiled. “Amazing.”
Elsbeth, Porter, and Valerie murmured their approval.
Halfway through “Una Furtiva Lagrima,” the phone rang. Byron rolled his eyes in irritation, but Elsbeth excused herself and picked it up.
“Hello? Yes, this is 555-1433. Yes. We placed the ad.” She paused for a moment, listening. After a few seconds, her face lit up. “Really? Valerie’s brother? That’s fabulous.”
I got up and stood beside her, trying to hear the conversation. “Ask for his number.”
“Shhh.” She held up a finger, listening again. “Sure. Tomorrow afternoon would be fine. Why don’t we meet at the Coffee Cup diner near the Public Gardens? You know it? Okay, great. Four o’clock will be just fine.”
Elsbeth put down the phone and darted across the room toward Valerie, who sat on the couch with Porter.
“It worked! Valerie, that was your brother. He’s coming for you tomorrow afternoon.”
A sense of unease flitted over me, but Valerie and Elsbeth hugged each other and laughed with girlish joy.
My protective instincts kicked in and won the battle over my usual cock-eyed optimism. “Did he know her name?”
“Huh?” she asked, slightly put off by my question.
“Her name. Did he call her Valerie? I didn’t mention it in the ad. Sort of a test, you know?”
She hesitated. “Um…I don’t remember, honey. But what does it matter? He’s gotta be her brother. He said the whole family’s been worried about her. Anyway, who else would answer an ad like that?”
I nodded noncommittally and went back to the piano, where our virtuoso stood rolling his eyes. “Ready to start this one again, Byron?”
He smirked and readjusted himself, straightening. “I’ve been ready my whole life, my boy. Now play on, Gus. Play on.”
Chapter 16
The next day at three forty-five, Elsbeth sat beside me in a booth at the diner. We both faced Valerie, whose face flushed with excitement.
The girl’s heavy mane of hair had been freshly brushed; it glistened and rippled like strands of fire down her back. She wore a pale blue denim jumper over a white, long-sleeved blouse. Her locket rested chastely on her bodice, and the antique ring sparkled on her left hand.
I stared at Elsbeth, who’d transitioned from her usual collegiate attire to that of a full-fledged hippie. Valerie’s influence on her style was rapid and overwhelming. That morning, she’d bought hip hugger jeans with wide bellbottoms and a faded green army jacket at the second hand store. Encased in pretty sandals, her feet tapped impatiently on the floor.
My wife’s dark, lustrous hair was parted on the side, now, which she’d never done before. She’d braided several daisies into her curls.
I stared sideways at her, unsure of the changes. She was still gorgeous, of course, but I found the modifications strangely unsettling. Elsbeth seemed to be transforming before my very eyes, whereas I stayed my same old boring self.
She and Valerie had stayed up late the night before, giggling and listening to the Doors and Led Zeppelin until the early hours of the morning.
Porter approached, leaning over the booth. By the way his eyes flashed at Valerie, it was obvious our ex-marine had fallen hard for her, because he kept darting glances at her. His smile came easier now, too. And for the first time in my life, I wondered if love really could cure all ills.
The two had huddled together in our living room last night during the vocal performance. At one particularly moving section of the aria, I saw Porter reaching for Valerie’s hand.
She hadn’t pulled away.
From the nervous expression that lurked deep in his eyes, I figured Porter was worried about what we’d discover today. What would Valerie’s brother say about her life?
What if she already had a boyfriend? What if she were engaged? Worse yet, already married?
Porter interrupted my thoughts. “Maybe you’ll solve some real mysteries today, Valerie. Your name. Your birthplace. The whole shebang.”
“I hope so.” She smiled. “I still can’t believe it. I’ll find out where I live, who my parents are, if I have any more brothers or sisters...”
Elsbeth leaned over the table to squeeze her hand. “Maybe seeing him will jog your memory. You might recognize him and it will all come flooding back.”
“Oh, I sure hope so,” Valerie answered brightly.
I didn’t say anything. I’d reserve my judgment until I met this guy and checked him out.
We ordered coffee and bagels and waited. Valerie sipped her coffee and picked at her bagel nervously. Finally, at precisely four o’clock, a man approached our booth.
Chapter 17
The man who walked toward our table wore matching dark green shirt and pants, with “Rick’s Gas Station” embroidered on his pocket. His short dark hair lay close to his scalp, flattened by some kind of grooming cream. He looked to be about twenty-four or twenty-five.
I glanced at his clean fingernails, and an unsettled feeling washed through me. Is this guy really her brother?
His eyes danced playfully and focused on Valerie. “Hey, sis.” He leaned forward and tried to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.
“It’s okay,” he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “I heard you lost your memory. How the hell did that happen? Did you bump your noggin’ on something?”
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Don’t you remember your big brother?” He leaned in near her, as if closer proximity would suddenly make her recognize him.
What a jerk.
“Don’t ya remember me at all?”
Valerie loosed a weak smile and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much. Or, anything, really.”
I cleared my throat and held out a tentative hand to him. “Gus LeGarde here. And you are…”
He laughed good-naturedly, shaking my hand briskly. “Oh, sorry. Jarvis. Jarvis McFadden.”
He shook Elsbeth’s and Porter’s hands. “Pleased to meetcha.”
“So my last name is McFadden?” Valerie said, as if testing the word on her tongue.
“Yep.” Jarvis grinned, but he shifted from foot-to-foot, as if he were late for an appointment.
Porter eyed him with a guarded expression. His eyes darted from Valerie to Jarvis and back before he spoke. “You sure don’t look like Valerie,” he muttered.
Jarvis wasn’t deterred. He answered matter-of-factly. “Yeah, tell me about it. She takes after mom. I take after dad. Go figure, huh, Val?”
Jarvis dragged a chair from one of the tables nearby and sat down beside her. He took out his wallet and unfolded a series of plastic-enclosed photos.
“Here’s some snapshots of the family. There’s Mom and Dad, and that’s Bingo, your cat. On this one here, that’s you, when you was three. See? You’re sitting on Daddy’s knee.”
The photos were clearly old. The little girl on her father’s knee glanced away from the camera, and it was impossible to tell if she
looked like Valerie.
Valerie picked up the photos and examined them with a tender smile. “I have a cat?”
Jarvis nodded, looking at his watch. “Yep. Bingo. He’s a big orange tomcat. Sleeps wid you every night.”
Valerie’s eyes grew moist as she touched the photo with one finger. “I love cats! I just remembered that. Weird, huh?”
Jarvis pushed his chair back and stood expectantly. “You ready to go home, sis?”
“She lives with you and your parents?” I asked.
“Sure.” He nodded. “We both do. Until we can save up some money. We both want our own pads, but we’ve gotta wait until we have enough moolah, you know the scene?”
I looked at Elsbeth. She seemed content to trust this man. Porter was another story. He started vigorously washing down the table next to us, listening with a tight expression in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Val. But I have to get to work by noon. Got a tranny to take out and replace. I’ll take you home on the subway, and then I gotta fly to the job. Is it okay if we get outta here?”
I took out a piece of paper and pencil and pushed it across the table. “Can you write down your parent’s name, address, and phone number here, Jarvis? We want to stay in touch with Valerie. She and Elsbeth have become very good friends, right ladies?”
They both nodded. A tear glistened in Elsbeth’s dark eyes, and I knew she was going to miss our flower child.
Jarvis wrote the information without hesitation. “Here ya go.”
I said, “You take the subway a lot?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, pushing the paper back to me. “It’s cheaper and easier than driving in this city.”
“I know,” I said, trying to stretch out the conversation so I could get a better feeling about him. “The traffic is brutal, that’s for sure.” I looked at the address he had scribbled on the paper. “Quincy, huh? Would you like me to give you a lift?”
“Nah.” Jarvis smiled. “I’m used to the good ole MTA. We love the T, don’t we, Val?”
Valerie smiled uncertainly at him. “Do we?”
“Absolutely. Val and I were born and raised in Quincy. Lived in the same house since we was born. Nothin’ fancy, but we call it home, don’t we, sis?”
“I guess.” Valerie stood slowly, embraced Elsbeth, touched my hand in thanks, and smiled sweetly to Porter. “It’s time to find out who I am...I’ll call you guys when I get home. I’ll come back for my stuff tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
“Wait!” Elsbeth cried. “Are you sure you have to go? You have our phone number, right?”
“Right in my pocket.” Valerie glanced at her brother, reaching out to embrace Elsbeth again. “It’ll be okay, sweetie. I’ll come by tomorrow. I just need to do this, okay?”
Elsbeth nodded tearfully, sniffed once, and then impulsively hugged Valerie again. “Okay. It just seems so sudden, you know?”
“I know. Thanks for caring, Elsbeth.”
Elsbeth’s voice caught in her throat and her lip quivered. “You can visit anytime. You’re family now. We love you.”
I slid my arm around Elsbeth and pulled her close. Valerie followed Jarvis to the door, turned to take one last look at us, and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Elsbeth watched her leave, sighing deeply. “Should we head home? I’d like to get her things ready for when she comes back tomorrow.”
“I’ve got that late class coming up in a half hour, sweetheart. Think I’ll just hang out here with Porter for another cup of coffee, and then head over to school.”
“Okay, baby.” She kissed me on the lips and waved over her shoulder, hurrying out the door.
As soon as she was gone, Porter plunked down across from me. He didn’t hesitate to let it all out. “Geez, Gus. I don’t trust that guy. He just seemed…wrong, somehow.”
I stared into his worried green eyes. “You know what? Me, neither. Something was off with him, but I just couldn’t place it…until now. It just dawned on me. Ever see a car mechanic with clean fingernails?”
“Crap.” Porter’s eyes narrowed and his face turned ashen. “Let’s go. If we hurry, maybe we can catch them before they get to the station.”
He ripped off his white apron, shouted something unintelligible to his father, who stood in open-mouthed surprise behind the cash register, and raced side by side with me into the street.
Chapter 18
We ran along the busy sidewalk in the direction of the Park Street subway, crossing over to the Commons, where it was easier to dodge the thronging crowds than the sidewalks.
“C’mon!” Porter yelled, when I stopped to catch my breath.
He was barely breathing hard, while I gulped for air. I guessed it was all that soldier-conditioning.
He jumped on top of a bench and peered across the park, searching among crowds surging toward the subway station. Leaping down suddenly, he grabbed my arm, and pointed. “I see them.”
In the distance, Jarvis moved briskly through the crowded street, practically dragging Valerie behind him.
Porter bulldozed his way through the people, and I sprinted right behind him.
We lost sight of them temporarily when they went down the steps leading to the subway terminal, and then caught them again after we dropped tokens in the turnstiles and darted onto the crowded platform.
“They’re not heading for Quincy,” I panted, leaning against the crumbly cement walls.
“You’re right. He’s on the northbound platform.”
“Let’s follow them, see where he’s taking her. He’s up to no good. I feel it in my bones.”
“Me, too,” Porter said. “Come on.”
We ducked out of sight behind a large group of noisy college students who appeared to be headed for a game. The boys and girls both wore green and white jerseys and baseball caps, and occasionally yelped, “Go Cougars!”
I stood beside Porter with my head down and hands in my pockets, pretending to read a map on the wall. Porter kept his eyes trained on Valerie, because we had to get in the same subway car with them.
When the train pulled into the station, we shuffled on board behind the throng of students and sat in the back of the car. I watched Valerie and Jarvis in a bench seat several rows up, facing away from us. It looked like she was trying to make conversation with him. He nodded curtly at her every once in a while, but seemed to be dismissing her. After a while, her shoulders slumped and she seemed to give up.
The subway stations were totally unfamiliar to me, and because I’d never taken this line, I wondered at every stop if they’d get off, and how we’d follow them in a less crowded town without being spotted.
After about fifteen minutes of rumbling through towns above ground and underground, Jarvis stood when the train pulled into one of the last stations on the line. He motioned for Valerie to follow him. We waited a few minutes, and at the very last second, leapt up to squeeze through the rear doors before they closed.
“Over there,” Porter whispered, ducking behind a signboard on the platform. There were a few dozen people in the station, not enough to hide behind.
It didn’t matter where we stood. Jarvis walked briskly away from us with Valerie in tow. She stopped suddenly, pointed to the subway sign, and appeared to be arguing with him. I wondered if she’d just noticed it didn’t say “Quincy.” He placated her, smiling and patting her shoulder. Finally, she relented, and they both began to march up the broad cement stairs to the street.
“Come on,” I whispered, for a moment feeling ridiculously like one of the Hardy Boys. “We’ve gotta find out what this creep is after. If he’s not her real brother, what the hell does he want with her?”
We trailed them into the open street of the dingy town that smelled like greasy food and exhaust fumes.
Jarvis hooked arms with Valerie and hurried her along the sidewalk. We followed behind, keeping as far back as possible without losing them or being spotted. Jarvis began turning left and right and then left again, and I wondered i
f we’d ever find our way back out of the grimy town. After the seventh turn, I gave up trying to memorize the way home. The neighborhoods grew seedier as we moved toward the outskirts. Dilapidated wooden houses lined each side of the street, crying out for paint and shingles. Tiny yards teemed with overgrown grass, old tires, and abandoned cars. We saw no children, and no animals. It was eerily silent, like an abandoned suburban graveyard.
A large black sedan trundled past, rolling smoothly along the road, strangely out of place in the squalid neighborhood. I watched as it decelerated and turned right on James Street. Jarvis waved to the driver, and hurried after it, dragging Valerie behind him.
We ducked behind a garden shed when Jarvis and Valerie slowed and headed for a decaying yellow house where the black sedan idled in the driveway. The driver hopped out and opened the car door for a stocky man in a black suit who waddled purposefully toward the house. The driver resembled an ape, with a creased brown face and long gangly arms. He walked hunched over and wore a black uniform with a cap. Obsequiously, he tailed his boss into the yellow house.
We exchanged worried glances.
“What the hell?” Porter said.
When the driver, passenger, Valerie, and Jarvis entered and closed the front door, I motioned for Porter to follow me, moving closer. “Doesn’t look like a family reunion to me, Porter.”
“No way in hell.” He whistled long and low, walking with me around the back of the house.
Chapter 19
We scrambled through two neighboring backyards and ended up crouched beneath an open window listening to men talking inside the yellow house. The air hung with cemetery stillness. No dogs barked, no children shrieked, and no curtains rustled in neighboring homes.
Nothing felt real. The community seemed deserted. Occasionally an old car rolled by, but it was infrequent.
To top off the bizarre mood, here I was, practically stalking a girl and her kidnappers with a Viet Nam vet breathing steadily at my side.
Porter’s years of tracking the enemy in the Viet Nam jungles honed his abilities far beyond any I could have developed in my schoolyard scuffles. I followed his lead, stooping beside him under the window, listening to the sounds inside the house.
Spirit Me Away Page 6