“You think she could really see if Ryan’s okay? What’s happened to him?” Claudia questioned. “To all of them?” Glinda had read Claudia’s fortune many times before so Myrtle knew Claudia trusted the psychic.
“She can try.” Myrtle was standing now. “Let’s get your car and we’ll drive to the house. You can speak to Glinda about this. She’ll help as much as she can.”
“Yes, perhaps she can tell me something.” Now Claudia, her body trembling, was also on her feet.
Myrtle and Claudia accompanied Irma to her shop and left her there. Irma had thought about tagging along with them but remembered she had deliveries coming in later that afternoon so she’d had to pass.
Claudia was silent on the way to Glinda’s, seemingly concentrating on her driving, or pretending to. Myrtle could see the woman was a nervous wreck.
Glinda, a compassionate smile on her lips, waited at the open door for them. She moved forward and clasped Claudia’s hands. “I had a feeling you’d be visiting. Come on in and I’ll lay out the cards for you. There’s something you want to ask them, correct?”
“There is.” Claudia followed the psychic into the house and when the three of them were seated at the reading room’s lace covered table, Glinda picked up the deck of tarot cards. She shuffled them and had Claudia cut them three times. The cards were carefully laid out.
“Is Ryan still alive?” Was the first thing Claudia wanted to know.
Myrtle’s deep breath intake sounded loud in the room.
Glinda scrutinized the cards before her. Her face reacted with confusion at first and then went blank. Her eyes, when she met Claudia’s, were sympathetic.
“He’s still alive. If I’m reading the message correctly, he’s in great peril.” She touched one card and then another. “He’s being contained, kept, somewhere against his will. I’m not sure, the cards don’t always give simple answers, but it’s possible he may have been...abducted. The people in his safari have been taken.”
“Taken? My Ryan has been taken?” Claudia’s shoulders stiffened, her eyes filling with horror. “By who? Why?”
“My readings are rarely that specific. They provide me with general scenarios and I have to puzzle out what the cards are trying to say. But my guess here,” Glinda’s fingers gently skimmed the cards, “would be he’s been taken by someone, or a gang of someones, who want something in return to give him back. Almost certainly money. Kidnapping wealthy white foreigners for ransom is fairly common in Africa and other less prosperous countries these days. It happens a lot more than people think.”
“Ransom!” Myrtle reclined in her chair, a shocked expression on her face. “It does occur a lot, especially in places like Africa. I saw on the television the other night they just rescued some woman who’d been missing for weeks out in the Mexican jungle. She’d been snatched. They saved her, though. She was really skinny and dirty, but hadn’t lost any limbs. You know, sometimes those kidnappers beat up a prisoner or like to tor–”
“Stop!” Claudia was wringing her hands together; her eyes had filled with tears. “Are you sure, Glinda? Sure it’s a kidnapping?”
“As sure as I can be if I want to believe what the tarot is telling or trying to tell me. The good thing is,” she brightened, “he’s alive. That’s the most important thing.”
“They reveal nothing more?”
“Only what I’ve already told you.”
To Myrtle her friend Claudia seemed weary, suddenly much older, and her heart went out to her. She put her arms around the distressed woman and briefly hugged her. She’d often thought Ryan was a bit eccentric, somewhat of a risk taker, but he was a gentle natured, good man, and Claudia loved him. The two had been married a long time and had raised a family together. They still undeniably loved each other. That sort of love was hard to find. “It’ll be okay. Ryan, Jim and Pete will be rescued one way or another, you’ll see. They will.”
“But for now, what can I do?” Claudia moaned. “I feel so helpless.”
“If Ryan’s really been abducted, you’ll have to wait until the kidnappers contact the safari company, the American Consulate or one of you three waiting wives,” Glinda told her, “and demand money, or whatever it is they want–unless Ryan and his companions somehow liberate themselves.”
“Liberate themselves?” Claudia sounded confused. “Ryan?”
Glinda looked up from the cards but didn’t answer.
“Well, never mind that. Rescues happen all the time,” Myrtle rushed to reassure Claudia. “You did say the safari company had sent out men to search for them? Hopefully they’ll find them. Free them if they need to be freed.”
“Maybe,” Claudia echoed in a scared voice.
“Here,” Glinda said to her, “let me make you some tea or coffee? You’re welcome to stay as long as you want; as long as you need to feel better.”
“Tea sounds good,” Claudia accepted in a small voice. “Thank you.”
Myrtle came to her feet. “Coffee for me. I’ll get it myself. Make Claudia’s tea, and a cup for you, too, Niece. I’ll bring them in to both of you. You just take care of Claudia here. I won’t be long.” Myrtle went into the kitchen. As she made the coffee and tea she listened to the hushed voices in the other room and then the sound of Claudia’s crying. Poor woman. Myrtle felt bad for her and murmured a prayer that Ryan and his friends would be found soon, and found safe. Alive. She’d ask her church on Sunday to say prayers for them, too. It couldn’t hurt.
Myrtle carefully carried the coffee and tea on a tray to the other room. Her balance wasn’t the best so she took it slow. She could barely look at Claudia’s tear stained face. She felt like crying herself. Other peoples’ heartbreak did that to her. Instead she forced her face to wear a compassionate expression because she wouldn’t make Claudia feel worse than the woman already did.
When Claudia had left the house and gone home, Glinda turned to Myrtle. As they lingered in the reading room watching the day seep into night outside the windows, she said, “Ryan’s situation is very serious, I’m afraid. What I didn’t tell Claudia is that there was death infusing most of the cards. People have died. People might still die. The cards wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me who. If it isn’t Ryan who is dead, then it’s one of his friends, or some of his companions. I couldn’t tell her that.”
“No,” Myrtle mumbled, “you couldn’t. She was upset enough.”
The two women sat there for a long time without saying much. Shoulders slumped. There wasn’t much to say. They both felt so sad for Claudia and afraid for Ryan, Jim and Pete.
“So you left your cane somewhere again, huh?” Glinda queried. “In Frank’s truck this time?”
“How did you know that?”
Her niece grinned at her.
“Never mind.”
Glinda got up from the table. “Let’s go make some supper, Auntie.”
“All right. Supper sounds good.”
The two women left the room, switching off the lights as they went.
AFTER GLINDA’S READING, though it wasn’t anywhere near her normal closing time, Claudia couldn’t return to the bookstore. Too upset. She drove home and tried to watch television; her cell phone never more than two feet away.
People had begun calling her as soon as she’d walked in the door, wanting to know if it was true that Ryan had gone missing in Africa. How had they all found out so soon? Irma. Myrtle? Someone who’d overheard her conversation at Stella’s? Who knew? In Spookie nothing remained a secret for long. She wasn’t surprised.
She jumped each time the phone rang, waiting for an update from the safari company or the U.S. Consulate about what had happened to her husband’s safari group. Or waiting for Ryan to call and, laughingly, tell her everything was all right, that he hadn’t been lost or kidnapped by rebels. He was fine. Nothing bad had happened at all, merely a misunderstanding or innocent happenstance like the safari had lost all their cell phones crossing a river, or a wild lion had eaten their phones, or the
y’d been in a deep valley and the signals couldn’t get out, or...or...something else–not that he was a prisoner somewhere or worse. The tarot cards had been wrong or Glinda had read them wrong.
The hours tortuously dragged by, the sun crawled down from the sky and went to sleep, and Claudia waited, praying and pacing. She couldn’t keep her mind on her television programs, yet left the set on for company. She numbly answered the phone calls from concerned friends and family and tried not to scream in between their words or hang up on them. They only wanted to let her know they cared enough to call her, that they were worried over Ryan, too. She did appreciate the sentiment. Everyone, even her children, who spoke to her said, oh, everything will be all right, I’m sure. You’ll see. She didn’t believe a one of them.
She had this awful feeling and it was growing. Ryan’s well-being, or very life, was in jeopardy. Ryan was in pain, lying somewhere, bleeding. In agony. He’d been beaten by his abductors. He was being tortured.... No, no! Don’t think of such things, she sternly reprimanded herself.
She’d taken her husband for granted; she knew that. Their lives had been so safe, so predictable. Their children had grown up, moved away, and didn’t seem to need them anymore, and, little by little, she and Ryan had fallen into a comfortable rut. The years went on one after another with not many changes. Living their lives in Spookie, each day much like the one before, she’d been satisfied with that. Not so, her husband. In his old age, he craved adventure, as if he had wandered into a second childhood. Then he had to go and stumble around in a dangerous wild country where anything could happen at any time and often did. People went to Africa and never came back. Darn that husband of hers. He’d been too old to be journeying all over the globe like some twenty year old. She’d warned him. He hadn’t listened and now look at what he’d done. Got himself kidnapped. Got himself killed? Darn husband!
She blamed herself. What had she been thinking letting him go off like that? Ryan couldn’t take care of himself in the best of conditions; never could. She should have stopped him. She hadn’t. If her husband was dead it was her fault.
Stop it. It was possible Ryan hadn’t been kidnapped at all. Maybe he was okay. The psychic had been wrong. He’d call any minute and how they’d laugh over her big scare. That’s when her tears began again.
MYRTLE CALLED CLAUDIA late that night. “I been thinking and worrying about you all day, what with the state you were in when you left our house. How are you doing?”
No good lying to the old woman. She would see right through it. The woman’s instincts were uncanny. “As good as can be expected. I’m worried, but not desperate yet. Since I, or anyone else for that matter, don’t really know for sure what has happened. Do we?”
Myrtle didn’t answer that, instead asked, “Have you heard anything yet?”
“No. Not from the safari company, the Consulate or Ryan.” She sighed over the phone. “I just wish someone would call me. Let me know what’s going on.”
“Would you want me to come over and stay with you, Claudia? I can, you know. Glinda wouldn’t miss me for a night or two.”
“No, no thank you, but it’s sweet of you to want to stay with me. You or anyone else being here won’t help. Hearing that Ryan is safe is all I need.”
“Well, if you change your mind, sweetie, just call me, you hear? I’m sure Frank would drive me over anytime if I ask him.”
“If I need you, I’ll call. I promise. Thank you. Right now I’m just waiting for word and I’m not very good company. Best I wait alone. I might try to sleep a bit and pray that when I wake up that someone has heard from the safari party. Or I get a text or a call from Ryan.”
Claudia clicked off her cell phone and carried it into the living room. She laid it beside her on the sofa and tried to watch more television. Eventually she must have dozed off because it was morning. The television was still on but she’d slept the night away.
Checking her phone and her laptop there was still no message from Ryan.
She couldn’t bear to stay at her book store in the morning and hung a sign on the door, closing the shop temporarily, and went back home. She hadn’t felt like talking to anyone. By now everyone in town would know why the book store was closed. She didn’t care, all she cared about was Ryan and when he was coming home. The rest of the day she did whatever she could to pass the time.
She awoke in the middle of the night on the sofa. As the night before, the lights and television were still on. Rising from the couch she went into the kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea. Wide awake, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep any more that night. She got out a book she was reading and continued the story. The hours passed. It was as if she were dragging a heavy weight around and her heart hurt. She waited.
IT WAS AS DAWN WAS breaking she received news. Her cell phone rang.
“Claudia...it’s me,” her husband’s shaky voice came across the miles. “I’m okay.”
Tears of relief streamed down her face. “Oh, Ryan! I’m so happy to hear from you. I was so worried. Thank God you’re okay. What happened?”
He told her.
Glinda and her tarot had been spot on. Ryan, Pete, Jim and the safari group had been kidnapped by rebels, a ragtag collection of desperate and vicious men, and held for ransom. Yet the abductors hadn’t had the chance to demand anything before unexpected events overtook their nefarious plans.
“I’ve been hurt, Claudia, but–don’t get upset–after medical care, I will be as good as new again.”
“Hurt?”
“It’s only a wounded arm, Claudia, sweetheart,” her husband confessed, sounding strangely fragile. “I got the injury during the escape. Because after they killed the first hostage, Janus, by cold-bloodedly shooting him to prove some senseless tough-man point or other–he was from Iceland and a hell of a nice guy–and they started beating on the rest of us, we had no choice but to attempt an escape. The men who’d taken us were sadistic animals and we feared they’d hurt or kill more of us unless we got away from them. They despised us for being Americans and prosperous. Money wasn’t all they wanted. I think they wanted to have power. Be more than they were, which was impoverished and weak. They were such angry young men.
“So we waited until nightfall. The night guard was prone to snoozing and we waited until he fell asleep. Jim had this small knife hidden on him and used it to cut his ropes and then ours. We almost got away, but I guess we made too much noise. The guard woke up. He began yelling and shooting at us. We all ran, the darkness hiding us enough so we could escape; but I took a bullet. So did Pete. In his shoulder. He’ll be all right, as well, the doctors say.
“It was quite a flight through the African pampas. We were so lucky we got away. With only two of us hurt. We had no weapons, no food or water. We were blessed, really, that no animals waylaid or attacked us as we fled. Our guide led us to a nearby village and we got help. The safari company sent in helicopters to pick us up. We’re at the hospital getting checked out in Zambia right now. They let me use the telephone. The terrorists took all of ours when they captured us.”
“So besides the man they murdered, you and Pete were the only other ones hurt?” she asked, still in shock over everything he’d told her. Shock and the greatest sense of relief she’d ever felt in her life. The dizziness caused her to collapse to the sofa. All she knew was that Ryan was alive, Ryan was alive....
“There are others in the group who were abused, beaten, by our captors. They have bruises, cuts, and such. But only Janus died.” There was deep sorrow and exhaustion in his words. “The authorities here are out hunting for the kidnappers now. They have hopes of catching them. Eventually. They think they know who they are.”
He said more, but she wasn’t sure what any of it was. Words, words, words. Blab, blah, blah. Her mind was on cruise control. Her body was still shaking, but her tears were now tears of joy, not despair.
She interrupted him in the middle of a sentence. “When are you coming home?” That�
�s all she really cared about. Having him home safe again with her. Nothing else mattered.
“As soon as they release us. A day or so, they tell us. Oh, honey, I am so happy to be talking to you. So happy to be free. To be alive.” He sounded as if he were crying. “I can’t wait to get home.
“I think, sweetheart,” his voice was weak but relieved coming across the long miles, “I’ve had enough adventure for a lifetime. All I want to do now is come home. Be with you in our comfy home and in our safe little town with our family and friends.”
“Then come home, husband.”
“I’m coming as fast as they can get me on an airplane. Jim and Pete, too.”
“I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“I count on it.”
She could have said so much more, but he was gone, the connection cut.
The real flood of tears, and sobs, came then and she let them.
Ryan was okay. Ryan was alive. That was all that mattered. Ryan, Pete and Jim were okay, alive, and coming home. Hurrah!
Her tears finally stopped, but she was so tired from the last couple days all she wanted to do was go to bed. Instead, she called Pete and Jim’s wives and the three shared what they knew. Jim and Pete had already called them.
Afterwards she telephoned Myrtle and Glinda and spilled the good news that Ryan, Pete and Jim were all right. They were coming home. She was sure Myrtle would spread the information all over town for her. By tomorrow everyone would know everything they needed to know. Then the book seller went to bed and slept the rest of the day.
When she awoke, to be sure his survival hadn’t all been a dream, she put in another call to the telephone number Ryan had given her. This time, her husband sounding a little stronger, they talked longer. Gosh, she thought, how she loved him. She promised herself she would never take him for granted again. Not ever.
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