by Judy Kundert
“Yeah, I’ve been up since 6:00 a.m. at my deli stand. Can’t wait to get home.”
Katherine nodded and offered a pursed smile before she returned to glancing out the bus window to watch the night traffic zoom past the bus.
Something tickled Katherine’s wrist. “Excuse me, miss,” the older man said. “Is this feather yours? It was on my seat!”
Katherine didn’t need to examine it. It was the eagle feather. Should I claim the feather? What if this man is a fish and wildlife expert? What if he’s a retired police officer? What if I get arrested? Katherine kept her silence.
The man shrugged. “Must be from someone’s hat. Do you want it?”
Katherine’s heart raced. She told herself to act nonchalant. “Oh, I have an aunt who wears old hats. Maybe she could use it.”
“Fine.” The older man handed Katherine the cherished eagle feather. “Oh, here’s my stop.” He bent down and tied his tennis shoes. “Now I’m almost home. Be careful, sweetie.”
Katherine waved the feather at the man and smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Have a good night.” Katherine watched the man leave the bus. She clutched the feather and glimpsed around her before she dropped it in her purse. I hope no one saw that. Katherine slouched in her seat, her heart pounding. It felt like someone was watching her.
Katherine pretended to cough. She took a Kleenex from her handbag and dropped it on the floor. Stooping to retrieve the tissue, she bowed her head and lifted one eye to look at the back of the bus. Her eyes narrowed in on a man with bushy eyebrows hanging over squinty eyes that set off his contorted face. His leather jacket opened to a white satin shirt unbuttoned down to his navel to display a hoard of gold chains hanging down his chest. She couldn’t believe it! I might be wrong, but I think that’s the guy from the library. He was outside O’Leary’s office. Katherine’s hands got sweaty. I remember he stepped back from the door when I ran out of O’Leary’s office. He was listening at the door. Katherine covered her mouth to stop a scream when she glimpsed the scar across his cheek and the toothpick hanging from his cracked lips.
What’s he doing on this bus?
19
THE BUS JERKED TO a stop. Katherine wiped her sweaty palms inside her jacket pockets and rushed off the bus three blocks earlier than her usual stop. Like a warrior ready for battle, her shoulders tightened; her legs prepared to dash. Stealing a glance back, Katherine couldn’t see anyone following her. What did that man want? If he was the guy at the library, then he was trailing her. Why? What did he want with her? Maybe Dominick sent him. But why would he have done that? He must be with that woman Debbie now anyway. Who else would be stalking me? And why? Maybe he’s just a nut.
One block and she’d be at her apartment. On a spring night, she loved to stay outside and walk with friends. Her mind tussled with how much difference one day could make in a person’s life.
Today had started with a happy, chatty talk with Emma Jean while they’d munched on flaky croissants smothered in strawberry preserves. Then, with the best of intentions, she’d taken To Kill a Mockingbird to Angelos. What a muddled day. She’d shared an inspirational story about the harm caused by prejudice, and then a real-life discrimination experience had hit her hard as a cold wind. What would cause Adam and Charlotte, even Emma Jean, to conjure such a ridiculous idea that Angelos kidnapped her? And then there was the eagle feather’s strange appearance and its shamanistic vanishing act. What was happening?
Katherine smiled. I’m becoming a character in One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. When I talk to Emma Jean, I’ll tell her I’m learning how to be Scheherazade.
Footsteps pounded behind her like thunder. The sound of heavy breathing flowed through the quiet spring night. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. Her Native American instincts warned her of danger: a mugger, a rapist, that jerk on the bus.
Like a frightened deer running in Wisconsin’s Northwoods, she dashed to her apartment, her heart pounding to the rhythm of the clunk of her feet on the sidewalk.
When she reached safety, Fred, her building doorman stood guard outside. He whistled and gazed at the stars. “Hey, Miss Katherine, what’s your rush? I love these warm spring nights. Summer’s just around the corner. Charlotte just left, and I have a note for you.”
After her last call with Charlotte, Katherine didn’t care to get a note from her. She just wanted to get inside and upstairs to her locked apartment. “Thanks.” She paused. “Oh, Fred, if anyone comes asking for me, please say you don’t know me and, whatever you do, don’t give them entry to the apartments. Call the police if you have any trouble.”
Fred nodded. “Okay, Miss Kate. Protecting the tenants is my job.”
Katherine closed her eyes and nodded. “Thank you, Fred.” She paused and admired his shoulders, which rested on a body-builder physique. Just like a knight protecting the entrance to her castle. She patted his strong shoulders. “You’re the best. Have a good night.”
Tonight, the elevator ride to her fifteenth-floor apartment was like a cross-country flight. Katherine longed to retreat from the world to clear her mind and catch her breath. I can’t wait to lock the door and never open it again—at least, until daylight.
When the elevator door opened in front of 15B, she dug into her purse with shaking hands, searching for her apartment key. Her hand touched every corner and side pocket of the bag but found only the lone eagle feather. Katherine pounded on her apartment door, but no one came to the door. None of her neighbors opened their doors to see what the hallway raucous was. She lifted her purse and shook the contents on the floor. Still no keys. She kicked the apartment door and stamped her feet. She wanted to use every curse word that her mother had washed out of her mouth.
The elevator door opened, and Fred walked over to her. “Hey, Miss Kate, are you looking for your keys? A strange gentleman brought these to me. He said he found them on the bus. What a scary guy. He held his chin down and looked up from under his hat brim for just a second. And he wore sunglasses at night. It’s dark as molasses out there.”
Her knees shook like cymbals slamming together. Her stomach knotted. Her chest tightened with fear. What’s the matter with me. I’m safe now. Fred is here and stands guard downstairs to stop any strangers. Now why did I think about that terrible mass murder Richard Speck’s hiding under those nurse beds to kill them? She squeezed the apartment key so hard, a trickle of blood dropped on the floor. She looked at Fred with a glassy stare. “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Miss Kate, please let me help you into your apartment. Your roommate moved her things today; you’ll be all alone in there.” He touched her squeezed hand and worked to release her hold on her keys. “You looked frazzled.”
Katherine lifted one finger at a time to open her palm. A key imprint rested in the middle of her hand. Her body sagged; going loose like leaves ready to fall to the ground. Her day had begun with hope and joy and had ended in a gray haze of confusion. With a quiver in her voice, she sighed. “Oh, Fred, I need your help.”
Fred helped Katherine gather up her belongings from the floor. “Is that guy a threat? I can call the police for you. He sure looked creepy. I don’t mean to get involved, but you don’t need that kinda guy.”
Before Fred could notice, Katherine slipped the eagle feather into her purse. The quill rubbed her hand. Katherine wrinkled her nose and scratched her forehead. Her mind raced like a greyhound dog chasing the mechanical hare around the racetrack. A flash of questions darted like a rapid-firing gun clicking in her mind. Who was that guy? Why did he follow me? How did he find where I live? Glancing to the right and left, twisting her purse’s handle, Katherine swallowed before responding. “I don’t know that man.”
20
KATHERINE JOSTLED WITH HER blanket and twisted on the living room sofa until daybreak. Sunlight infused the living room with a glow. Don McNeill’s Breakfast Club replaced Dick Biondi, the Wild Italian’s Midnight Radio show.
&nb
sp; Katherine, fatigued from the sleepless night, lingered. The phone, hidden under a crumpled lavender quilt resting on the floor next to her, let out a muffled ring.
Charlotte’s soft voice increased an octave with each word. “Kate. Are you okay? I called you every ten minutes until nine last night. Adam and I even went to Emma Jean’s place to check on you.”
Katherine held the receiver against her chest and bit her lips. She wasn’t ready to talk to her. Charlotte’s words—“Adam, and I”—bounced around her stomach. I can’t trash a lifelong friend. And Adam, well, he was just a friend. So, two of my friends went to dinner? So what? Bigger problems glared in her thoughts like a burning sun: meeting her supervisor to fix the charity event issue and finding an explanation for last night’s frightening experience with the stranger and her keys.
Katherine scanned the bedroom, now empty of Charlotte’s belonging. She needed to sit with her friend and tell her everything. The two girls from Chippewa Falls had shared their entire lives, from their first kindergarten nap to their last time together in this apartment.
“Hey. Did you read my note? Nothing happened with Adam. We just freaked out. We thought that Greek had kidnapped you.”
Katherine’s stomach quivered. What happened to her and Adam doesn’t matter, but I want the truth. “Okay, I better get moving. I’ll call you.”
Charlotte responded with a muffled good-bye.
Katherine dropped the receiver in the phone’s cradle. She’d get to Charlotte’s note, but right now she needed a good long bath.
Jungle Gardenia bubble bath swirled in the tub like the rush of a fresh stream running to unite with a river. The scent elevated and revived her spirits and calmed her heart.
Katherine’s mind drifted to the lesson her mother had shared with her when she was only six years old. Her mother had always avoided discussing her Native American heritage unless she wanted to teach Katherine. To help her learn how to live, her mother explained the remarkable aspects of being Native American.
One day, when Katherine ran outside to avoid taking a bath, her mother dashed after her and sprinted alongside her. When weariness overcame them, they stopped by a pond. Her mother wiped her brow and smiled at Katherine. “Sweetheart, I hated to take baths once upon a time too. Then my grandmother and your great-grandmother, beautiful Hanging Cloud, told me an important characteristic of our ancestors, the Chippewa. Native American’s valued their hygiene and daily bathing. They bathed in the waters of nearby rivers.” She paused and glowed at Katherine, who shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Yep, even on frigid winter days. Now, we have warm water and luxurious bubble bath. And you know, when you have a cold, a nice warm bath always helps you get well. That’s what our ancestors did. In times of sickness, they searched for healing springs. Even when you’re not sick, a good bath gives you extra energy and joy.”
Her mother’s words drifted to her as she whisked the soothing bubbles around her. Katherine remembered one time, fifteen years ago, when she’d been worried, she’d never talk to Charlotte again after an argument. “Best friends are like diamonds, precious and rare,” her mother had said. “False friends are like leaves, found everywhere.”
Katherine gazed in the bathroom mirror. “Mirror, mirror, who are my real friends?”
Before she got an answer, the phone rang. It must be my loyal friend or Mom.
“Hi, Katherine,” Angelos said on the other end. “How are you? I wanted to thank you for the fantastic book, To Killing a Mockingbird. I tried to call last night.”
Katherine slumped on her bed and wished she’d never answered the phone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but her stewardess good nature won out. “Oh, Angelos, you’re welcome. I hope you found it interesting. All my teachers told me that this book will be a classic since it shows some serious issues in our country’s cultural history. Hey, right now, I’m running late for work.”
“Oh, okay. Would you like to go out for dinner next week?”
Katherine believed that every person that wandered into her life had a message. Some have lifelong messages, and some are little reminders and warnings. There’s also Aesop’s quote, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” And Angelos was on her “Good Deed” list. She tried to have at least three people at all times on this list—friendly, kind individuals who had crossed her path and would only be in her life for a short period. Her mother had told her to do kind acts for a stranger or people who couldn’t repay her. “Okay. Can you call tomorrow?”
“I’ll call in the afternoon. Good-bye.”
“Bye,” Katherine said.
Katherine rubbed her hands over her brow. She turned and noticed Charlotte’s Chanel-scented note crumpled on her bed. It can wait until I’ve had breakfast.
21
ON THE WAY TO THE Third Coast Coffee Shop, Katherine stopped at the local drugstore to buy a new journal. The Diary of Anaïs Nin had inspired Katherine’s journal writing. Like the eleven-year-old Anaïs Nin, who began writing in her dairy as a letter to her father, Katherine, an archer, wrote notes in her journal to Artemis, the goddess of hunting. I’ve neglected my best friend, she thought. And I’m disconnected from my thoughts. I need to reconnect. Life moved me along, and I need to pull out snippets one at a time. Each bit forms a tapestry. Each piece calls out and begs a place in a completely woven message.
With a steaming cup of coffee, Katherine pulled out the new journal and wondered how to start. Why did I share To Kill a Mockingbird with Angelos? After a long gulp of coffee, Katherine rubbed her cheeks. Her eyes riveted on the blank page, she rubbed her forehead and took in a deep breath. Prejudice and injustice: that’s what she’d been thinking. Slavery was part of our history. Why hadn’t she gone further back to the United States first act of prejudice toward Native Americans? Katherine wiped her hand over her face to stop the stream of tears. There was too much to tell, from losing their land through broken treaties to the false images today of Native Americans as savages.
A picture of her parents slipped out of her wallet and rested on the table.
“Hey, Katherine. Are these your parents?” Neal asked.
Katherine looked up and saw Neal, a friend of Charlotte’s. She wrinkled her brow and nodded. Neal was one guy Katherine would like to date, but alas she thought he was interested in her charming roommate, even though he and Charlotte had not been on an actual date. He spent many nights visiting in the young women’s apartment. His blond hair and bronze tan framed cosmetically whitened teeth. Katherine liked his square-jawed good looks. “Hi, Neal. It must be photo shoot time for you.”
Neal plopped in the chair across from her. “No. I just got back from one. It was a commercial sunrise shoot on Oak Street Beach. Sunrise on Lake Michigan lets off the best light. The air is fresh, and the waves just swish on the shore. What else do I need? Hey, I talked to Charlotte last night. She’s concerned you got kidnapped, or worse.”
Katherine took in a deep breath and burst out, “Kidnapped, or worse!”
“Yep. Charlotte asked me to check in on you.”
“Check in on me?” Katherine’s body tightened. Her face turned red. She grabbed her purse and her notebook.
Neal reached out and touched her hand. “Hey, lady. Charlotte is your best friend. You should feel good that someone cares that you’re safe. Now cool it. Please sit and chat. Let’s have one of those wonderful sugar and spice muffins and a cup of coffee. Okay?”
Katherine gazed at Neal’s cobalt blue eyes; his touch made her knees weak. No wonder Charlotte liked this guy. A rush of devil-may-care thoughts abounded. Maybe Neal and I could go to dinner like Charlotte and Adam. Hmm, she thought, and her eyes twinkled. I need to talk with a good and understanding listener.
“Well, I’m bummed. When did you talk to Charlotte? Before she went out with Adam?”
Neal’s face turned red; his brow wrinkled. “That guy that she was with? Is he your friend?”
Katherine cocked
her head. “Yeah. Did you see them?”
“Well, I thought Charlotte might want to go for a drink. Her phone was busy. So I walked over to ask her out. Just as I got inside your apartment lobby, Charlotte and your friend came into the entrance. Charlotte slumped into a chair and burst into tears. In between gulps, she gave me the story about you. Your friend, Adam, asked if I wanted to join them.”
Neal leaned forward and stared into Katherine’s eyes. “I went to McGuire’s and had a couple of beers with them. You were the topic of our conversation. They admire you. So, I decided to find out what had happened to you. I stopped at your apartment; the doorman said you’d left for coffee.”
Katherine threw her head back and laughed. “As Alice said, this gets ‘curiouser and curiouser!’” Katherine filled Neal in on Angelos, Charlotte, and Adam. She ended with a smile. “People and their heads! I took a book to an interested young man from Greece, and you’d think I became a war prisoner or something.”
Neal shook his head and nodded. “People are too lazy to discover the truth. They don’t bother to find out the facts. I guess that’s why I’m going to law school. People will never stop jumping to conclusions and make poor decisions. That’s employment security for me.”
Katherine’s heart leaped. A lawyer? “You’re going to law school?”
Neal smiled. “Yep. I’m in my last year. I never mentioned it to Charlotte. Since she liked Neal the model, I left the law school part out. You know, I remember you with your nose in textbooks when I visited Charlotte at your apartment. You surprised me with all the knowledge and wisdom that you expressed. Are you a stew in school?”
Katherine howled and patted his hands. “Yes. I’m a stew who’s on a sabbatical of sorts from school. Two years ago, when I left Beloit College to become a stewardess, my professor agreed to give me an incomplete.” She paused and looked up at the ceiling and smiled at Neal. “I got hooked on my travels and life in Chicago; the time stretched to over two years. Now I have had the drive to get back on track. The past couple of weeks were wild.”
