by I Beacham
Joey’s head was swimming. Logic told her she was doing the right thing in simplifying her life, but her damned heart wasn’t. In low, defenseless moments, she actually felt happy that Sam had flown out and was close by. It was as if a part of her wanted Sam to take control, sort out the mess in her head, and make everything right. Rationality would surge back and confirm it was a hopeless task. Why bother.
She rose from the bed and crossed to the window that looked out on the hectic flurry of the area below. Joey liked this part of Washington. There were plenty of little restaurants, some of which she knew well. She’d become a regular customer to some when she’d worked here on and off over the years. She still knew the owners. They wouldn’t hesitate to tuck her away in some shadowy corner and protect her anonymity. So far, the media hadn’t been intrusive. It was like the dragon that slept. Maybe it would stay that way. Maybe she was old news. Sherry’s prophetic warning might come to nothing.
Her plan was to stay in the hotel until the next NPR recording. Then she’d go back to Baltimore and continue sorting her affairs out in preparation for the move. There was nothing too complicated to attend to. She’d decided not to sell her townhouse just off Inner Harbor. She’d bought the three-bedroom place years ago. It had needed work, but she’d fallen in love with it. For the past few years, she’d been renting it furnished to friends. They would be moving out soon, and she’d put everything into the hands of a local Realtor. She had some pieces of furniture she wanted to move across to England. The rest she’d put into storage or sell.
Joey turned back into the room and looked at the laptop and paperwork she’d brought with her. She hadn’t entirely lied to her mother. She had agreed to do some editing work on a project Stallion was working on. It was a straightforward piece and would occupy her mind.
She decided to have a shower first and then settle down to it.
*
“I think I’ll show Sam around the garden, Ann. Maybe walk down to my man shed.”
Len gave Sam a guarded look across the dining room table as they finished breakfast. It was a clear coded message meant for just the two of them.
Sam wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she knew he was up to something. Whatever it was, Ann seemed oblivious.
“That’s a lovely idea, darling. Make the most of this dry spell. They’re talking about a bad weather front coming in. More snow. God, I hate the stuff.”
Len and Sam dressed for the cold and headed down the sweeping lawn to the bottom of the garden where a large metal shed was.
“I thought you were going to show me the garden,” Sam smiled as Len purposely swept her past everything in a determination to get to the shed as quickly as possible.
“Sure,” he said without dropping pace. “To your right, rose bed. To your left, Azaleas when they bloom. Over in the corner, the herb garden.”
“Nice.”
When they arrived at the shed, Len entered a code into a large security padlock that held a thick chain. He then opened two equally large padlocks via keys that held the door firm at the top and the bottom. He pulled open a substantial steel door. Inside there was an inner door which he used another key to open.
“Some man shed, Len. Little over-the-top with security?”
“Yeah, well I don’t want anyone snooping inside.”
“You get many burglaries around here?”
“Not had one yet. I was thinking more of keeping Ann out.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Yep.”
He flicked a light on. It illuminated a large space full of the type of equipment you expected to see in a gardening shed. There was a sit-on mower, a regular mower, some hedge cutters, and leaf blowers. The equipment was expensive but nothing overly impressive and certainly not worthy of Fort Knox. To the side was a workbench where Len obviously spent time. It was covered in wrenches, drills, nuts and bolts, cans of oil, steel cutters, saws, and more. Sam considered it normal for what might be needed for repair and maintenance.
But Len was still moving forward.
He led her past it all and toward the back of the shed and up to an area where a large dark green piece of tarp was thrown. He stood awhile waiting as if to ensure he had Sam’s full attention before pulling the covering off like a magician revealing a bunny.
Surprise filled Sam.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from widening and her jaw from dropping.
She was looking at three motorcycles. And not just any motorcycles. They were classics.
There was a Harley-Davidson VLD, what looked like a late 60s Kawasaki WZ, and an immaculate and beautiful BSA A10 Golden Flash just like the model she had, only in better condition.
“Ta-dah! What do you think?” He stood there beaming at her.
“Hang on a minute while I choke.” Sam felt like she’d been transported to motorbike heaven. To see three vintage classics in one shed…she pinched herself.
“My wife thinks I’ve only got one now,” he said with pride.
“I thought you’d got rid of the BSA.” Hadn’t Joey told her this?
“Nah. Ann thinks I did, but a man has to have some secrets from the love of his life. It’s why I keep the place secure.”
Sam scoffed. “Sod the padlocks, you should have movement sensors installed, with laser beam technology. Scorch anyone who comes near.” Sam caught Len’s look of astonishment. It probably wasn’t what he expected to hear from a woman of the cloth. Sam added, “God forbid I should think such a thing.”
“Understandable.” Len nodded amiably. “The Harley’s a real old gal, 1934. I bought the Kawasaki a few years back. It was in a bad state. I’ve been doing it up slowly…kind of a winter restoration project that’s stretching over the seasons. The BSA rides like a dream.”
“They’re beautiful, Len.”
“They sure are. They don’t get ridden as much as they ought to now. I’m not as young as I was, and I only take them out in the good weather. I thought you might like to use the BSA while you’re here.”
“I couldn’t do that.” Sam was shocked he’d even consider this.
“You’d be doing me a favor. It doesn’t get used as much as it should. It could do with a real shakedown. Frankly, she’s getting too heavy for me now. All I ask is that you bring her back in one piece and maybe keep her out of the snow.”
“It’s been snowing, Len,” Sam reminded him.
“Yeah, but it won’t hang around. Never does. It comes in clumps.”
Sam couldn’t turn the offer down. “I’ll ride her like an angel.”
“Let’s fire her up.”
They pulled the bike out. Len got on and kicked the pedal down. It started straightaway. He hopped off and let Sam sit on it to get a feel. It was like being home. Sam felt homesick for her own bike.
They stopped the engine.
“We’ll take her up to the house. Get her locked up in the garage.”
Len started to wheel the bike toward the door but stopped.
Sam knew something was on his mind.
He looked at Sam with intent.
“So what are your intentions regarding my daughter?”
For a second time, Sam nearly choked. Then she caught Len smiling.
“Relax, Sam. Your pedigree’s showing. Anyone who owns a classic has to be all right.”
Sam gave a nervous shrug. “Of course.”
“And I guess you being a vicar…”
Len’s priorities would have amused Sam if she wasn’t so tense. Once a biker, always…
“This isn’t an easy topic for me, Len, but I can tell you I love Joey. My intentions? I suppose if we can work things out, I want to make her happy. I want us to be together.”
“Good enough.” He was as plain speaking as Ann, but Sam could tell he wasn’t finished.
His next question took the wind out of her sails.
“You think Joey’s going to be okay?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer. She needed to talk plain to
o.
“I see what you see, Len. I don’t know what to do.”
“Why won’t she let anyone help her?” Len’s calm persona couldn’t hide his desperation.
Sam eyed him. She hadn’t expected such a serious conversation in a shed surrounded by classic motorcycles.
“I’m no professional, Len, but I have my suspicions.”
He tipped his chin forward, the silent invitation to speak candidly.
“I think this is all part of a self-punishment regime. She won’t accept help in case it starts to make her feel better. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel that.”
“That’s damn stupid.”
“Yes, it is, but I guess you and I weren’t out there. It’s part of her survivor guilt.”
“Part of?”
“Just a feeling that there’s something else going on in her mind besides the PTSD. Something else happened out there, but she won’t talk about it. I may be wrong, but it’s what I sense.”
Len studied her like he was summing up a client. She wondered what was on his mind.
“Ann and I feel the same. It’s just a feeling too. But if we’re right and it could be unlocked, we might get the old Joey back. Get her to stand straight again.”
He tapped her on the back. His way of showing the topic was finished.
“You really are resigning from being a vicar?”
Sam laughed. “I’m still ordained, Len. I chose to be a vicar…it was the job I wanted after my ordination. All I’m doing is changing job, which, I’ll be honest, I haven’t worked out yet. But I still remain ordained. If I ever wanted, I could be a vicar again sometime.”
“I see.”
Sam wasn’t sure he did.
They maneuvered the bike out of the shed. Len rode it slowly back up the pathway toward the house and into the garage. Sam ran behind.
As Len alighted from the bike, Ann appeared.
Len stood tall. “I was about to come and explain—”
“You think I didn’t know? That sound down in the shed every time you fire it up.”
“You’ve known all this time?”
“I’ve always known you’d never got rid of the SRB.”
“BSA,” Len and Sam corrected her in unison.
“Whatever. And I know you’ve got others in there too. Why all the secrecy I don’t know.” Ann looked at Sam. “Honestly, Sam, you’d think I was the wicked witch not letting my husband have a hobby.” She walked back into the house.
Len turned to Sam and narrowed his eyes. “I swear, if I live to be two hundred…”
*
When Joey arrived at the NPR building, Sherry was waiting for her.
It struck her as unusual. Sherry was a busy woman and not the type to meet and greet. Her modus operandi was usually seeing people after events, making sure everyone was happy. She let her team get on with their jobs and was fairly hands-off.
Sherry walked alongside Joey to the studio where Clara Dale was waiting to do the second recording.
“I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s been a man here asking for you. He’s been into NPR several times. He won’t say who he is, but he looks Middle Eastern and has the accent. He’s quite insistent. Reception says they’ve seen him hanging around outside.”
“Is he here now?”
“No, hon. I’ve had a good look. But I saw him a few days ago. Reception called me. He’s a tall, thin guy with a heavy dark beard. He’s not press. I can smell them at twenty paces.”
“But you’re worried.”
“Not sure worry is the right word, but he’s anxious to see you, and I can’t imagine we’ve seen the last of him. You got any idea who he might be?”
“None. Should we call the police?”
“You’re thinking about that stalker,” Sherry said.
“Hard not to. He was a persistent little bastard. I don’t want any more of those.”
Joey thought back ten years. It had made the front page news. She’d been stalked by a crazy guy when she was working out of California. He had followed her all over the place, turning up where she least expected him. He’d had a habit of getting into apparently secure buildings and leaving her single roses on her desk. It all became intolerable when a colleague working for a different network suffered a similar problem that had resulted in her being sexually assaulted. The police had acted fast after that and arrested Joey’s admirer. She hadn’t been bothered since, but there was always the possibility.
“He could be anyone, I guess. A fan after an autograph?” Sherry shrugged. “We’ll wait. If he turns up again, we’ll call the cops.”
Her response didn’t inspire Joey with confidence, mainly because she didn’t really think he was a stalker or a fan. There was a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Before Balshir, she’d done a documentary that had revealed the funding mechanisms of the insurgent regime. Certain avenues of cash had been terminated after that. It hadn’t made her popular and she received threats. Could someone be seeking revenge for the documentary?
Sherry was staring at her. Joey sensed she knew what was going through her mind.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, girlfriend.” Sherry tapped her arm in reassurance. “You’re home, and you’re safe.”
“You can’t blame me.”
“I can’t. I’d be nervous too. Anyway, security knows and will act appropriately if he comes back. I’ve got a car that’ll take you where you need to go when you finish.”
Joey smiled. “About six hundred yards to where I’m parked.”
Sherry smiled back. “We’ll drive you around the block then. Kill any scent.”
Joey accepted the offer as she walked into Clara’s studio.
It was little over an hour later when Joey walked back into reception.
The man at the desk politely advised her that someone would be out front soon with transport.
Joey waited.
She looked out the large glass windows checking the street for the mystery man. He wasn’t there. But someone else was that she knew. Sam.
As Sam walked into the foyer, she caught the display of emotions that ran across Joey’s face as their eyes met. Her unexpected appearance was rewarded with a brief smile, and again for a split second, Joey looked happy to see her. But then the smile turned into a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” Joey asked.
“I’m here to see you. It seems to be the only place I can get to meet you face-to-face. You keep avoiding me in Baltimore.” Sam smiled at her gently, hoping her presence would melt Joey’s heart, but the tactic didn’t work.
“You look good,” Sam said. She couldn’t help herself. She was in love with Joey and missing her. All she wanted to do was to grab and hug all the air out of her. Couldn’t Joey feel that?
“How did you know I’d be here? And please don’t tell me Auntie Elsa.”
Sam’s initial excitement started to grow heavy. She’d hoped after their first meeting that Joey might be rethinking things. It didn’t look like it.
Sam shook her head. “Your mother.”
“Are you two socializing now or what?”
“I’m staying with your parents. They rescued me from the motel.”
The minute she spoke, Sam realized she’d said the wrong thing. It hadn’t occurred to her that Joey didn’t know about her new living arrangements. She’d given it little thought.
Joey leaned into her and lowered her voice. “You’re making my life very difficult, Sam. Please just go home and leave me alone. I can’t do this.”
“No.”
“Nothing is going to change.”
“No, Joey. I’m staying.”
“You’re wasting your time.” Joey raised her voice.
A man at reception called over to her. “Miss Barry, is everything okay?”
Joey straightened. “Press.”
The man immediately attracted the attention of a security officer who came over. He stepped in between her and Joey.
&nb
sp; “Please leave, ma’am,” he said.
“Hang on, I’m not press.”
The security officer’s gave her the you either leave now or I throw you out look.
“Joey, please.” Sam appealed to her, but she was already walking out of the building toward a waiting vehicle at the curb. As she tried to follow, the security officer blocked her.
The last sight Sam caught of Joey was the look of total misery on her face as the vehicle drove off.
*
“She did what?”
Ann’s voice was raised to a high pitch. Len’s disposition wasn’t much different. He was pacing the kitchen as incensed as his wife was.
Sam was seated glumly at the breakfast table, her elbows on it and her face resting in her hands.
“I can’t believe Joey did that,” Ann said.
“I can’t believe they thought I was press. I’m an ordained minister for heaven’s sake.”
Sam was trying to make light of what had happened at NPR, but nothing was minimizing the ominous state of tension that filled the room.
“What is going on in my daughter’s head? Why is she pushing everyone that matters out of her life?”
Len walked over and wrapped an arm around Ann in an attempt to calm her. It didn’t work.
“Sam, what can we do? Please tell me,” Ann begged.
“I wish I knew.” Sam had no answers despite all her prayers.
“You aren’t going to go back to England, are you?” Len looked desperate.
“It’s okay, Len. I’m not giving up.”
Relief flooded his face.
“You’re the only one who seems to understand our daughter right now. I don’t.” Ann’s makeup was its usual perfection, but it wasn’t hiding the lines and dark shadows under the eyes. Neither had been there when Sam had first arrived, or if they had, they weren’t so pronounced. Sam felt guilty. Her presence was aggravating already existing problems and causing Joey to behave badly. The outcome of all of this was affecting Ann. She was worried about Joey, and she didn’t look as if she was sleeping. Len was agitated too but hid it better. Sam wouldn’t have told them anything of what had happened in DC, but they’d tipped her off about the time and date of the next recording. Naturally, they’d wanted to know what had happened when she returned. It wasn’t something she could sidestep.
