Soul of Cole

by Micheal Maxwell

  “Can’t tell I’ve ever been here.” He latched the shed closed, and rubbed out his footprints in front of the shed. Shuffling and zigzagging back to his house, he felt confident that his path was completely gone. The next strong wind will finish the job, he thought.

  “Thank you for coming with me.” Kelly and Cole got out of the car at the Children’s Center. Kelly was thankful, and very grateful, for his support.

  “My pleasure, it’s my hot date for the week.” Cole’s sarcasm was showing.

  “Very funny. I just need you here for moral support.”

  “I’m always good for that.” Cole smiled reassuringly.

  They approached the door and found it unlocked. “Hello!” Kelly called out as they entered the center.

  “In here!” A voice came from the office.

  In the office, Cassie was sitting at her father’s desk. There were papers and folders spread out everywhere. The normally neat desk was in complete disarray. She stood as Kelly entered the office. “This is my sister, Rebecca.”

  A pretty, dark haired girl sat in a chair against the wall.

  “Yes, I recognize her from the funeral. I’m so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. Your father was a wonderful man and he will be greatly missed. It was a lovely service.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca stood to shake hands with Kelly and Cole.

  “I’m Kelly and this is my husband, Cole.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you.”

  “Cole, you want to grab another chair from the entry?” Cole turned and left the room.

  “So, let’s get to it.” Cassie left no doubt she intended to run this impromptu meeting. “I really want to get all this sorted out. Since you’re on the board, and Becca and I are our parent’s only heirs, you seemed like the obvious choice to help us figure out the direction we need to take.”

  “We hoped that you could help us make a decision, then present our findings to the board.” Rebecca was the polar opposite of her sister. Her voice was kind, and her words carefully chosen to show she was asking for help and guidance. “Cassie tells me that the board is really just a means of reaching the legal responsibilities of a nonprofit. Is that true?”

  “That’s pretty much the case. The board is used more for fundraising and community outreach than any real decision making.” Kelly gave a slightly embarrassed shrug.

  “Here we go,” Cole reentered the room.

  The four sat and there was a brief moment of silence before Cassie spoke. “Becca and I do not agree on what should be done with this place. With my father gone, I have absolutely no desire to continue to work here. Or have anything to do with it, for that matter.”

  Kelly glanced over at Cole without expression. Nothing like cutting to the chase, she thought. “Okay, that’s one side of the coin. Becca, what are your thoughts?”

  “I have been committed to my mission ministry in Guatemala for nearly three years now. The work there is strong, well staffed, and well organized. My departure would not be a detriment to the program. I must confess I would miss it desperately if I didn’t go back, but I’m beginning to understand that the Center needs me far more than the work in Guatemala. I would like to see things continue here, as much to honor my father’s memory as the needs continue for the Cheyenne and Arapahoe community in our area.

  “My understanding is, Kelly, that you know the staff here as well as anyone. Do you think the other volunteers will continue without my father’s leadership?” It was Rebecca’s turn to be the assertive member of the family. Her gentle demeanor was a covering for a strong, determined young woman who was no pushover.

  “I believe wholeheartedly in the mission of the center.” Kelly looked intently at each sister in turn. “However, at this point in my life I cannot commit to a continued active role in the running of the Center’s daily activities. Cole and I would like to do some traveling. Our kids are in Paris, our grandkids are growing up, and we really need to spend some time with them in the very near future. I’m not saying I’ll abandon the Center completely, but I want you both to be aware that I will be cutting back on the hours that I work each week.”

  “I told you Becca, this is a perfect opportunity for people to pull back or leave the Center. Daddy was the backbone, and without him there’s no reason anyone would feel they were abandoning him if they decided to not continue working.” It was clear Cassie wanted out of there yesterday.

  “Well.” Kelly sat a little straighter. “This is quite a turn of events. I didn’t realize how unhappy you were working here. From what you say, your heart isn’t in it. It is pretty apparent it’s become a burden. It sounds like you are beginning to resent its control over your life. Am I reading you right?”

  “It’s not beginning. I do resent it keeping me from continuing my education. You know my dad. My parent’s brow beat me into making their dream mine as well. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it is far from my dream job.”

  “And that’s not fair to you, the kids, or the other volunteers, so I get it. I am curious though, if that was your feeling why didn’t you do something else?” Kelly was not overly fond of Cassie and always felt she gave just as little as she thought she could get away with.

  Cassie looked up with fire in her eyes. “Because, in my family, to not serve others is unthinkable. I couldn’t be the only one to not be a martyr to the cause.”

  “Cassie! That’s unfair, unkind, and untrue.” Becca nearly came out of her chair.

  “You know,” said Cole, entering the conversation for the first time. “Death is a funny thing. It brings emotions and truth, that can be buried for years, painfully up to the surface. Sometimes the truth comes out in ways that aren’t expressed the best way they should be. I’m speaking from personal experience here. I know I’m not on the board, or a volunteer, but if I’m being perfectly honest, I’ve never been that interested in this place, either. But I’ve spent my entire professional career as a keen observer of the human condition and people’s truer selves.

  “So, here’s my two cents: Cassie, you have to follow your heart. You can’t let the dreams of others drag you along behind them. You have to find your own path or you will grow more angry, resentful, and bitter.

  “Becca, I know you must be disappointed to hear how Cassie feels. But, you have to accept that she is sharing a painful harbored truth. You have to be able to let her go, and go her own way. Both of you, I know, loved your father and must feel that letting anything happen to this place would be turning your back on his great love and mission. But, and this is hard to hear, it was his, not yours. You didn’t start it, it wasn’t your dream, and it doesn’t have to be. Family businesses, and that is essentially what this is, often do not work into the second generation. Perhaps we would be better served here today if you two realized the feelings and needs of the other and came to peace with that between yourselves.”

  Cassie looked at Cole with what could only be described as wonderment. His words said what she struggled with so clearly, and she prayed Becca would take it to heart.

  “Thank you.” Becca smiled at Cole. “Sometimes it takes an outsider looking in to see through the window the clearest. I want my decision to be made from love of this organization, not guilt, or a sentimental longing to somehow stay in touch with my dad and his feelings.” She turned to face Cassie.

  “Maybe we should go for a long drive and decide what we need to do. I would hate for this to come between us. You’re the only family I have left and I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I think you girls are on the same page, you’re just a couple paragraphs apart. Do you think this is going to help?” Kelly glanced at Cole with a ‘thank you’ in her eyes.

  “I do.” Becca nodded.

  Kelly turned to the girl behind the desk. “Cassie?”

  “It will only help if I am free of this place.”

  “That’s pretty clear.” Cole looked at Becca. “Feels to me li
ke the future of this place is in your hands, but you need to make the decision that is best for you.”

  “As a board member, and I guess the primary board member, I feel it’s my responsibility to get things in order for the transition, whatever the case may be.”

  “I’ve already done that.” Cassie’s words were sharp and final.

  “Okay, then give me what you’ve got, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Fine.” Cassie gave the mess on the desk a wave of her palm up hand. “So are we done here?”

  “I am.” Cole picked up the chair and took it back to the entry.

  “Okay, Becca, it looks like it will be you and me determining how, or if, we will proceed. I just want both of you to know I understand how hard this is and I really hope you won’t let this come between you. I respect the decisions you’ve made.”

  “Thank you, Kelly.” Becca stood.

  Cassie began to flip folders closed and stacked them. “Then, I’m out of here.” Cassie picked up her purse. “See you later, Becca.” Cassie walked past Kelly and out the door without another word.

  “I’m so sorry, Kelly. I didn’t see this going the way it has. It’s not your fault and it appears it is no longer your problem. We’ll get this all straightened out, don’t worry.”

  “I know we will. You can count on my help too, don’t worry.”

  Becca looked over at the desk and the stack of file folders. “Looks like I have some work to do.” It was then she realized that Cassie left her key to the Center on top of the stack.

  “Geez, no wonder you wanted my moral support.” Cole started the car. “That was a tough room.”

  “I had no idea Cassie held so much resentment.”

  “I think it goes a lot deeper than that, I think that kid has some serious issues.” Cole put the car in reverse.

  “Well, I think whichever way the pendulum swings, I’m going to ease my way out.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. How about we hit Ernie’s for a sandwich before we go home?”

  “Seriously, you go straight to the food?” Kelly laughed. “You are a wonder, Cole Sage.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Cole pulled into Big Pete’s Cafeteria parking lot just a little before noon, and it felt like going home. Cole realized as he got out of the car it was over a month since he’d been to his favorite restaurant. As he approached the door an elderly couple was coming up the walk. The man used a walker and his wife was several steps behind. Cole opened the door and smiled, letting the couple go in first.

  The sounds and smells of Big Pete’s lifted Cole’s spirits, and he looked forward to chatting with Betty Cranfill. Inside the restaurant, a pretty young girl with a name tag that read Chloe approached Cole with a big smile.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Are you by yourself today?” She tilted her head to the right and her naturally red ponytail fell over her shoulder.

  Cole took a long moment to answer, wondering where Betty was and why she hired a hostess. “No, I’m meeting a friend. He’s probably here already.”

  “Okay, follow me; we’ll see if we can spot him.” Chloe was cute and cheerful. Betty picked a winner. She spun about grabbing two menus and headed across the restaurant. “There he is.” She pointed to the only person in the place wearing a suit.

  “How’d you know?”

  “He’s the only person in the place that keeps looking at the door.”

  “Good job, Sherlock.” Cole was still curious. “Is Betty here?”

  “Yes, she’s in the office.”

  “Ahh, well nice to meet you, Chloe.”

  Cole looked down and greeted Rowan Jensen, his publisher’s representative. He couldn’t have looked more out of place if he were wearing a clown suit. His $2,000 Brooks Bros. suit among the pearl button western shirts, t-shirts and jeans of Big Pete’s clientele was almost laughable. This man was so buttoned up he would probably feel naked without a tie. Jensen flew into Oklahoma City from New York and drove to Orvin just to meet Cole, a trip that Cole thought was a waste of time, and any business could have easily been done over the phone. To say he was flattered was an embarrassing truth.

  “Welcome to Orvin, Rowan.” Cole extended his hand. “Sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?”

  “I just sat down.” It wasn’t exactly true. He already took the time to clean every inch of his seat. Jensen slid the menu toward the window, wiping down the top of the table with a handkerchief from his pocket, and then slid it back to get the other side.

  Cole nearly laughed watching this germ phobic process. “I had an appointment with an attorney.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  “It seems I can’t let go of my crusading, journalist, do-gooder mentality.” Cole smiled at Rowan. “I’ve gotten myself tangled up in this fellow’s immigration problem.”

  “An illegal alien?” Rowan looked astonished and Cole laughed.

  “No, kind of the opposite. A local member of the Cheyenne tribe wants to bring an Iraqi woman and their child to the United States. He’s got the door slammed in his face everywhere he’s turned, so I was trying to help. But, it seems everybody I know is my age, or older, and they’re either retiring or have died. Anyway, we went to the attorney for him to swear out an affidavit showing that she needs to be granted political asylum because of her relationship with him and the Army.”

  “Well how is that going to work out? Doesn’t seem that difficult.”

  “You know, I’m not really sure. With the war and anti-Muslim sentiment, frankly I wouldn’t want to bring her here. But that’s not my call, it’s his.”

  Rowan looked across the table at Cole and smiled. “No, my friend, your job is to write some more books. We need to come up with a timetable.”

  “You’re right, but first, let’s have something to eat, I’m starving.”

  “Is this the Oklahoma version of haute cuisine?”

  Cole was not sure if Jensen was serious or making use of a gift of humor he didn’t possess. “This is my favorite place in Orvin, I can recommend just about anything on the menu, but if you miss the ribs or brisket, you’ll be missing something there are no words to describe.”

  Without speaking, Rowan picked up the menu and began to peruse the offerings.

  “So, what brings you all the way to Oklahoma? Surely it isn’t just to see me.” Cole still couldn’t believe his publisher would incur the expense of this trip just for him.

  “Actually it is.” Rowan didn’t lift his eyes from the menu. “We see you as one of our most valuable assets in our stable of authors. I came here to discuss our future relationship and to find out what you have planned for your next book.”

  “Well, I’m certainly flattered. I hardly see the sales of The Sages warranting so much of your time.”

  “If I can be completely transparent, I also come with a bit of a concern. Our marketing research has uncovered a couple of things we weren’t expecting.”

  “Really,” Cole said.

  Rowan finally looked up from the menu. “I’m not quite sure how to put this to you, Mr. Sage.”

  “First off, call me Cole. Secondly, there’s nothing I hate worse than people who pussy foot around bad news. Just spit it out.” As Cole looked across the table, he realized that this trip was not going to be good news. Although his book sold well, it didn’t crack the top ten on the New York Times’ Bestseller List. He was sure that his publisher spent a lot of money in anticipation of a far greater return.

  “Let me just put this frankly, Cole. The name recognition we anticipated when we signed your publishing agreement, based on your work as one of America’s great journalists of the 20th century, is far lower than we anticipated. It seems in the years since you won your Pulitzer and left your positions with major publications, you’re farther removed from today’s audience than was first believed.”

  “So what you’re saying, if I’m hearing you right, is that an over the hill newspaper man isn’t selling b
ooks like you thought he would, thus, dashing all of your expectations on the rocks.”

  “That’s a little harsher than I think I would have put it.” Jensen didn’t change expression. “Even so, it’s true just the same.”

  “I suppose it is. So, this future you see, does it still include you representing me and publishing my books?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. My purpose here today is simply to re-evaluate our relationship and future projects in light of a revised marketing strategy.”

  “I guess I’ve been in Oklahoma too long. Your boilerplate B.S. is starting to sound like a foreign language to me. Why don’t you just spit out what you’re trying to say and we’ll go from there?”

  Rowan Jensen pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. For several seconds he just stared at Cole. “Okay, here it is plain and simple, black and white. We do not feel that your place in the market is stand alone novels. It is our feeling, and that of our marketing department, that both of our interests would be better served if you were to write a series of some sort.”

  “You mean like Jack Reacher, or Harry Bosch, or somebody?”

  “Exactly. You’re a very talented writer. You have years of experience reporting, and observations that you should be putting to work in a highly marketable, highly profitable series. You could use Cole Sage, though not by name, as the main character, a journalist who gets thrown into situations, investigations and crimes and solves them.”

  “Are you serious?” Cole asked.

  “Absolutely. You have a wealth of material that could easily be shaped into an amazing series of books.”

  “I’m not sure if I am capable of doing that.”

  “I was expecting that response. Here’s what I would like to propose. We have a stable full of talented, young writers who can, and will, take your outline, draft, or whatever you feel comfortable in providing, and flesh it out and hone it into a very marketable product.”