Soul Survivor

by I Beacham

  “Like dogs with a bloody bone,” her dad moaned. “Why they can’t leave you alone? I don’t know.”

  “I’ll eventually bore them, and they’ll lose interest,” Joey said.

  “No, they won’t, my love. You’re always going to interest them, especially the tabloid press. You’re media fodder…the internationally renowned journalist who got caught up in tragedy and who broke down on national television. Shit sells.”

  “Stop this talk. Your daughter doesn’t need reminding of any of this.” Joey’s mother was in protection mode.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I can handle it as long as I don’t put myself in the firing line again.”

  “Do you want to?” her father asked.

  “Return to what I did before? No, Dad. I’m through with that.”

  “Does Stallion Productions offer you what you need?” He knew her drive. She would never settle for anything less than she wanted, or needed to give.

  “Yes. And if I decide I want more, they’ll let me spread my wings. The BBC has already made muted noises. But right now I’m happy with the arrangements.”

  “If you’re happy, then we are. Just don’t suffer in silence.” Her father disappeared into the sitting room, leaving Joey alone with her mother.

  The moment she knew he was out of earshot, her mom turned to her.

  “And this Sam?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s a vicar?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve got the hots for her.”

  “Mother!”

  “I’m just calling it like it is. I’ve never known you to speak about the same woman for more than two days, and the fact that this one is a minister of the church, gives me hope she has more in mind than a quick lay.”

  “Jeez, Mom.”

  “Well?”

  How could Joey forget that her mother was nothing if not tenacious when she thought something was going on? Joey grinned. This was why she loved her parents. They knew exactly who she was and adored her without reservation. After a few hissy fits, they had come to accept that she was a lesbian and only wanted her to be happy. Her mother was a wise old bird.

  “Yes, Mother, Sam is a vicar…and yes, I love her.” A lump rose inside Joey. Being home was wonderful. It would be perfect if Sam were here with her. “And I think she loves me, but it’s early. I don’t want to rush this.”

  “My God, my daughter is taking things slowly.”

  “Yes, well. None of us are getting any younger.”

  “She must be an incredible woman…and a vicar. Are you turning religious?”

  “No.”

  Her mother positively beamed. “What a fascinating combination. Your father is going to love this…a vicar in love with his daughter, and who owns a BBR motorbike.”

  “BSA, Mom.”

  “Whatever.” Her mom’s flippant response highlighted her total disinterest in anything remotely two-wheeled. Joey sometimes wondered how her parents ever got along. Motorbikes were her father’s obsession. At least she and Sam shared this. She couldn’t imagine her mom getting down and dirty with a bike engine. Not with her polished nails.

  “Don’t say anything to Dad yet. Let’s wait and see how this all pans out. I don’t want to jinx anything. Besides, if things do move along, we’ll face some interesting hurdles.”

  She watched the machinations cross her mother’s face. She was probably thinking of the same issues Joey did. How did one mess with the taboos of the church, even if external appearance suggested it was growing more liberal?

  Her mother started to put thoughts into words. Joey wasn’t ready for this.

  “Don’t start, Mom.”

  “But—”

  “No!”

  “I haven’t said anything.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  Her mother sensibly chose to leave the subject alone.

  A week passed, most of which Joey spent in a semi-reclusive state, not wanting to be tailed by the press. She bonded with her parents and caught up with a few people she considered trusted friends. She answered all their questions and they too were shocked by her changes in habit. So she was no longer the night owl who partied? Was there someone special in the wings? Was her new behavior a sign she was ready to settle down?

  Her mother kept giving her odd stares when she thought she couldn’t see. Joey figured she thought she was either truly in love, or events in the Middle East were turning her into a reclusive hermit.

  Maybe it was a test when her father made a sudden announcement one morning at breakfast.

  “Time to socialize,” he said. “Your mother and I have been invited to Sandy and Carol Ellingham’s wedding anniversary party tomorrow night, and they’ve extended the invite to you. Would you like to come? You’ll know quite a few of the guests.”

  Sandy was her father’s ex-partner in their law firm. They’d both retired about the same time, and remained friends. She saw no reason to decline.

  When the evening came, the party turned out to be fun. There were a lot of guests, a few Joey recognized, but many she didn’t. Thankfully, none of them took much notice of her. It was either because they never watched television and were blissfully unaware of the celebrity in their midst, or more likely, they were being polite. Either way, it allowed her to relax and mingle.

  She was just looking for her next target of conversation when a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

  “Josephine Barry, I’d know that cute ass anywhere.”

  She turned to see Sherry Tyler, a petite woman she’d worked with years ago in radio before Joey got her big break on television. Sherry was much the same except her long dark brown hair was now cut in a bob and had turned strikingly gray. Once Sherry had looked impish, but now she appeared rather distinguished.

  “Sherry Tyler?”

  Joey hugged her close. She hadn’t seen her for almost twenty years. The two of them had started out as journalists working for a local radio station. When Joey had moved to another media, Sherry had stayed true to radio. It seemed a long time ago.

  “The one and only,” Sherry said as they broke away from each other, “except I’m now Sherry Dexter, with a husband and four children.”

  “Four?”

  “John was married before, and came with two kids. We added a couple.”

  “Are you still working?” Joey couldn’t imagine Sherry being a stay-at-home mom, even with four kids. The two of them had been equally ambitious.

  “I sure am. I’m still in radio.”

  “Here?”

  “No, I live in Baltimore, but work out of DC. I’m with NPR. I’m senior producer for news and public affairs. It keeps me busy.”

  Sherry’s eyes twinkled, and Joey laughed. Her fondest memories of Sherry were her inability to cope with boredom. World War Three could have been raging and Sherry would be complaining of ennui. Joey was impressed. She was a huge fan of National Public Radio, a media organization that served as a national syndicate to a network of over 900 public radio stations, producing and distributing news and cultural programming. Sherry had done well.

  “What about you?” Sherry asked.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I do. I’m aware you’ve taken a sojourn from RSB. Personally, I think you waited too long. They’ve treated you badly.”

  Sherry was being kind and Joey appreciated it. “I’m currently over in England. I’m contracted to a company that produces political documentaries for the BBC.”

  “And when the contract runs out?”

  “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

  “Planning to go back to RSB?”

  Joey grinned. “As I said, I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

  “You’re still closer than a tick on a hound.” Sherry shook her head good-naturedly. She took Joey’s arm, and they moved to a quieter part of the room. “Listen, Joey. Serious question. Would you ever consider returning to radio?”

  Joey hadn’t though
t about it. “Why?”

  “Because NPR needs people like you. You’re informed; you’ve got a great reputation. You’ve got a huge following…still. Your roots were in radio, you’ve produced and made programs, it would be coming back to where you belong. There are rapid changes in audience trends out there that we’re having to adapt to…trends you understand. You could be part of that.”

  “I have a job.”

  Sherry ignored her. “Over twenty-six million people listen to us every week, Joey. When your contract runs out, think about it?”

  She could see Sherry was earnest.

  “Your bumping into me…was it by chance?”

  “Totally planned, my dear. When I saw that ridiculous news article last week about you flying home, I started plotting. Sandy’s party was entirely fortuitous. It was a sign.”

  “I’m not interested at the moment.”

  Sherry passed her a business card. “But you’ll keep an open mind, yes? The offer’s there if you change it.”

  “Sure.” Joey placed the card in her pocket.

  She continued talking to Sherry for the rest of the evening, her old friend didn’t hold back in telling her all about her loving husband and the kids.

  Joey listened, but her mind was preoccupied. Every waking moment she thought of Sam, always wondering what she was doing at that particular time. Joey imagined her at St. Mary’s giving a sermon, or listening to choir practice. She visualized her at home, in the kitchen, talking with Gloria. Perhaps on Saturday Sam was out on her motorbike, and on Sunday was heading for lunch with Neil and Miriam. These silly little thoughts cushioned Joey and brought her strange comfort.

  At night, it was different. Sometimes she wondered if she was right for Sam. She wondered when her mental state would improve. It was getting worse, and now it affected her during her waking hours. The nightclub had been a nasty example of its tenacious grip. She hadn’t been in control. Joey worried that she might hurt Sam, not physically, but she’d been verbally brutal lately when Sam kept pushing that she needed help. Would this get worse?

  Always Joey’s thoughts returned to Syria. She’d already hurt others there. Because of her insistence on going for a great story, there were now families without dads. Kurt, Mitch, and Mo. She thought of all their photographs she’d seen showing happy, smiling family units full of love. She’d destroyed all of that. Everything seemed worse at night, and Joey would panic.

  Joey sometimes imagined she was lying next to Sam, that Sam was the pillow she hugged. But then she would fall asleep, and her dreams would morph into a nightmarish concoction where she was trapped, frightened, and suffocating. Sometimes she called out to Sam, but her voice wasn’t strong enough, and Sam was walking away. As usual, she woke when she screamed out in the dark.

  *

  Time crawled for Sam while Joey was in America.

  In Joey’s absence, the producer of the WM radio series Forgotten Worcestershire contacted her. He asked if she’d do a guest slot at the studio and talk for thirty minutes about any historical church topic she felt comfortable with. He thought she’d laid a few seeds in her initial interview when she’d mentioned topics like the radar survey of the churchyard, or the marauding Welsh coming along the River Severn and attacking the Worcestershire borders in the tenth and eleventh centuries.

  Sam decided to do it. It was a subject she loved, and there wouldn’t be too much preparation as she already covered much of the material on the bishop’s certificate course. Neil would be happy, as it was a means of promoting fundraising, and it was also a way for Sam to kill time till Joey returned. When she turned up at the studio for her guest spot, she’d initially worried she might bump into Carrie. It was a relief to find she was on a different team and worked out of offices located elsewhere.

  Her time on the radio passed quickly, and the broadcaster was pleased. He was a gentle spoken, congenial man with a warm wit. Sam could see why his program was popular.

  “That was excellent,” he said. “You really know your history.”

  “I’ve always been interested.”

  “It shows. Would you be interested in doing more?” he asked.

  “You don’t even know if the listeners have enjoyed this. Best wait for some feedback.” Sam was surprised how keen he was.

  “I have sixth sense.” He smiled. “They’re going to love it.”

  When she returned to the vicarage, she made a cup of coffee and thought of Joey.

  She crossed another day off the wall calendar.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The automatic doors swung open to reveal a busy airport terminal where people were waiting to meet friends and family off recently arrived flights.

  Joey looked for her ride—Auntie Elsa’s neighbor, the same man who’d kindly brought her here when she’d flown home. She did a quick scan but couldn’t see him.

  What she did see was a recognizable face amid the mass. Sam. The minute their eyes connected, Sam broke into a huge grin. In one second, Joey went from being a weary traveler to an excited one.

  Sam stepped forward. “I nearly didn’t make it. There’s a huge pileup on the motorway.”

  Joey flung her arms tight around her. She closed her eyes and melted into her body as she rested her head on Sam’s shoulder and breathed in her scent. She had missed this.

  Sam pushed back to look at her. “I hope I’m a happy surprise. I told Elsa I wanted to meet you.”

  “You’re the best surprise.”

  Sam kissed her, then laughed, “I gave up a pulpit experience for this.”

  “I’m indebted.” Joey pulled Sam close.

  They were jostled by irritated passengers.

  “Let’s get out of here before we start a riot.” Sam had her suitcase and was already pulling her along the concourse.

  It was midday by the time they got back to Joey’s place. Joey noticed that the fridge had been stocked and a vase of fresh flowers rested in the middle of the dining room table. She was touched. No one had ever done this for her. It was the little things that Sam did.

  “I thought we’d go for lunch. Unless you’re jet lagged,” Sam said.

  “I’d love to.” Joey hadn’t eaten on the flight.

  “Missed you,” Sam said as they waited for their order at a small nearby restaurant.

  “Missed you more.”

  Sam reached across to pat Joey’s hand. “Have you had a good time with your family?”

  “I have. Mom and Dad loved having me home. I’ve been spoiled.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask if you’ve changed your mind about counseling,” Sam said.

  “You’re spoiling lunch.”

  Sam capitulated as Joey shook her head. Instead she produced an envelope.

  “I’ve got something for you.”

  “What is it?” Joey looked excited.

  “Open it and see.”

  Joey ripped into it and read the contents aloud. “Josephine Barry is invited to a bike ride and private tour of Ludlow Castle this Saturday at ten o’clock. Afterward, she will dine at the Compton Hotel where she is booked into a suite for the night.”

  When she finished, Joey eyeballed Sam. “Who am I going with?” she said.

  Sam was grinning like a lunatic. “I thought we’d make a weekend of it. I’ve got cover for Sunday services.”

  Joey stared at the invite again. She was beyond happy.

  “So?” Sam said. “Do you accept?”

  Joey leaned across the table and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Josephine Barry has much pleasure in accepting the kind invitation. Now, I’ve got something for you too. Close your eyes.”

  She waited until Sam obeyed before taking a small cardboard box out of a bag and placing it in front of her. “You can open them now.”

  Sam’s eyes widened as she stared at the box. She opened it.

  “It’s a magneto!” she exclaimed.

  “It’s a BSA A10 magneto,” Joey corrected her.

  “This is a genuine
part. It must be—”

  “Nineteen fifties.”

  “But it’s new, Joey. It’s never been used.” Sam was in seventh heaven as she took the item from the box and kept turning it in her hands.

  “Dad acquired it from some place. He thought you’d like it.”

  “Thought I’d like it? Do you know how rare these are? It’s almost impossible to get these now.”

  “A good gift, then?”

  “Shit, Joey. I couldn’t wish for anything better.” Then Sam blushed. “Well, I probably could, but this is close. Let me have your dad’s email. I want to thank him.” Sam placed the magneto back into the box like it was a rare bird’s egg. When the delicate task was completed, Sam passed another envelope to Joey.

  “Another invite?” Joey was already opening it. There were two tickets inside.

  “They’re to the West Mercia Police Orchestra Concert—”

  “—playing at St. Mary’s.” Joey grimaced. It seemed a bit too much like church business.

  “Seriously, they are wonderful, and the tickets always sell out. I know it’s at the office, but I promise you, you’ll enjoy it. I don’t have to do anything, either. The police steward the entire event.”

  After they finished their meal, Sam saw Joey back to her place before returning to church to conduct a service. When she was done at St. Mary’s, she wasted no time in driving back to Joey’s to spend the night.

  “I thought you’d already be in bed,” Sam said as she walked in.

  “I wanted to wait for you.”

  Joey’s words flooded Sam with love. Jet lag was beginning to show on Joey’s face, yet she had stayed up. As she led Joey by the hand to the bedroom, she wondered if she could be any happier than she was at this moment. Joey was in her life, and she felt complete. The loneliness that had lodged inside her like a weight was gone.

  As Joey snuggled up to her she couldn’t stop a yawn. “Sorry, Sam.”