Visions of Hope

by Candace Murrow

  "I have a few phone readings, then I'm off to Denver on Friday to participate in an intuition workshop. I'll be home Sunday evening."

  "What about Kipp?"

  "Would you forget about Kipp? I have to call some clients. Why don't you see if I have anything in the fridge for lunch, and I'll help you in a minute?"

  After Ellen closed the office door, Libby took a moment to reflect on Kipp's reading. She'd trained herself to let go of her client's issues, but Kipp's reading troubled her. She knew he had lost a child, but the abrupt ending stopped her from pursuing the details. Even so, the pain he displayed, albeit through the lens of anger, was clue enough to know the facts of the matter were not pleasant.

  * * *

  The next morning, when Libby entered the living room, Ellen was sitting in the rocking chair with a wadded tissue in her hand. As soon as Libby greeted her, Ellen fled to the kitchen.

  Libby pursued her. "What's wrong, Ellen?"

  "Nothing. Do you want coffee?"

  Libby moved in range of Ellen's face. "You've been crying."

  "It's nothing." Ellen filled the coffeemaker with water and measured out the coffee.

  "You're always helping me. Let me help you for a change."

  Ellen set the coffee can down. "I'm just in the dumps. Today I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe I should go home."

  "Or maybe you should just give it more time."

  "I don't know."

  "Look, I have an idea. Why don't we go to the gym and work out?"

  Ellen stared at Libby as if she'd suggested they drive to town naked in a convertible.

  "It will do you good."

  "You mean my fat figure."

  "I mean emotionally."

  "I haven't seen the inside of a gym since high school. I wouldn't have the guts. I didn't know you did anything like that."

  "I got talked into a membership once. I go when I can. Exercise helps keep the energy moving."

  Ellen glanced down at her body. "I can't go like this."

  "People of all shapes and sizes go. Come on. It will give you a lift"

  "I don't have a membership."

  "You can be my guest."

  "I don't have any clothes to wear."

  "You brought sweatpants, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "No more excuses."

  "Don't you have work to do?"

  "I'll rearrange my schedule. It won't be a problem. Let me make some phone calls, and we can get going." As she entered her office, Libby thought what a gift it was to be going to the gym. She could sweat out the pent-up energy she had regarding Kipp, because all night long she couldn't get him off her mind.

  * * *

  Libby drove down the country road to the edge of town, and within ten minutes they were at the Power House Gym. All the way in, Ellen had desperately tried to talk Libby into turning around, but Libby remained adamant that the workout would help Ellen's mood.

  After signing Ellen in, Libby prompted her upstairs and instructed her on the treadmill, starting her at a low speed. Ellen complained for the first few minutes, but then Libby noticed the old Ellen returning; she was laughing and joking as usual, back to her old self.

  An older woman in yellow sweats was reading on an elliptical machine, and a young man in shorts was working up a sweat on the Stairmaster. Because it was a weekday, the gym was less crowded.

  Fifteen minutes later Ellen stopped to get a drink of water and was stooped over a water fountain. A petite, ponytailed woman, dressed in a black shirt and running shorts, came from the weight room and tapped her on the back. The loud, driving music drowned out their voices, but they chatted as if they'd known each other for years. Libby thought she recognized the woman from high school. They finally wandered over to Libby. She got off the treadmill, wiped her forehead with a towel, and waited to be introduced.

  "Do you remember Jill Mason?" Ellen said. "She was a year behind us. She was a cheerleader like me, and she married Fred Foster. You remember Fred."

  "He was in my English class."

  "Boy, you've changed," Jill said. "You look great, Libby. It's Libby isn't it?"

  "Yes, and you look great, too."

  "I saw you at the reunion," Jill said.

  Ellen elbowed Libby and gave her an I-told-you-so look. "How did you like the reunion, Jill?"

  "I loved it. I got to see all those seniors, especially my old boyfriend, Kipp. Didn't he look great? I mean, he wears glasses now, but he still has that thick head of hair and those bedroom eyes." Jill fanned her face and blew out a breath. "God, was he a great lover. Oops, I'm telling on myself, what a bad girl I was. Well, we were all doing it back then. That's no secret."

  "Tell us more," Ellen said.

  This time Ellen received the elbow, but the jab didn't faze her, or Jill.

  Jill's eyes took on a dreamy glaze. "We used to park down by the water near the old warehouse. You know, the old lovers' lane. He used to fly me to the moon. He knew just how to press the right buttons." She glanced around, then put her hand to the side of her mouth to shield her next words. "Boy, is he a stud, if you know what I mean." She giggled. "I shouldn't be telling you that, but we'll never see him again. I just can't believe I did it with a famous TV personality. My claim to fame."

  "We better finish our workout, right, Ellen?" Libby placed her hands on Ellen's shoulders and directed her toward the treadmill.

  "Sure enough. I've heard all I need to know. Nice talking to you, Jill."

  "You, too." Jill strode toward the stairs.

  With Jill well out of earshot, Ellen laughed so hard she couldn't place one foot in front of the other. Libby refused to look at her, and when Ellen tried to speak to her, Libby hushed her up and realized their workout was finished for the day.

  Ellen held it in until they reached the car, then burst out laughing again.

  "Why on earth did you egg her on like that? What she said about Kipp was so personal."

  "Oh, Libby, lighten up."

  "I didn't need to know that about him."

  "Just look what you're missing." Ellen burst into another round of laughter.

  "Libby pinched Ellen's arm.

  "At least we know why he broke up with Jill," Ellen said. "With a big mouth like that, nothing is sacred."

  On the drive home Ellen jabbered about everything from her marriage to the price of underwear. The workout had done her a world of good. Libby tuned in now and then, but her mind unmercifully drifted to the picture of Kipp and Jill in a car on lovers' lane.

  * * *

  Over the weekend Kipp wandered aimlessly around the house. He didn't shave, he didn't cook, he didn't see the light of day. For two days he refused to open the blinds. He hadn't gone through a state of depression like this since he'd first learned of Kelly's disappearance. It was unsettling, to say the least.

  On Monday he felt like Punxsutawney Phil coming out of his den for the first time. He opened the blinds to the backyard. Though the cloud cover shielded the sunshine, he had to squint to get used to the light.

  The initial pain, brought on by Libby's reading, had subsided, and he was more in control. He decided to quit brooding and do something productive.

  He sat at the computer, but his stomach wouldn't stop growling. He was hungry for the first time all weekend. He prepared bacon and eggs and sat in front of the TV. The news took too much concentration, something he wasn't ready for.

  He flipped through the channels and hit on a talk show in progress. While eating his breakfast, he listened intently to a psychic field questions from the audience about deceased relatives and relationships. The people seeking answers were emotionally affected by the experience; many tears were shed. His original reaction to Libby's reading had been the same.

  Call-ins were encouraged, and Kipp was so engrossed in the show that he reached for his cell phone and punched in the 800-number. Once he got through to the studio, he asked how to know if a psychic was for real. The woman gave him a no-nonsense
reply. She said, "If psychics are genuine, you'll know. They'll be able to get to the heart of the matter. They'll know how to help you see the truth."

  Kipp hung up, more relaxed, and stared at the TV, but his thoughts were on Libby. She definitely got to the heart of the matter; she knew just where he hurt. Could she help him any further? How would he ever know for sure? He'd burned his bridges. Why had he been so stubborn? She said he was stubborn. Those were her words. He thought about the words he'd flung at her: quack and misfit. He had to apologize. If he could swallow his embarrassment and make the call, would she even forgive him?

  For the next few days, he struggled with his decision to call. By Thursday night he'd mustered up the courage. Even if he never saw her again, he could at least express regret for his inexcusable behavior. He owed her that.

  At eight he grabbed his phone, fully aware that she might hang up on him. Her phone rang four times before the recorded message switched on. He hung up, relieved she hadn't answered. His shirt stuck to his armpits.

  He stalled an hour, telling himself he needed to calm down, then tried again. This time someone picked up. When she said hello, his heart skittered in his chest. "This is Kipp, Kipp Reed." The exaggerated pause convinced him she wasn't going to make it easy on him, might even hang up.

  "How are you doing, Kipp?"

  Her gentle voice reassured him enough to continue, "I wanted to...Could I take you out to dinner tomorrow?" He wondered where that question came from. He hadn't thought of dinner beforehand, but maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

  "I can't. I'm sorry."

  Of course she couldn't. Why would she go out with him after the horrible way he'd insulted her?

  "I'm going out of town for a workshop."

  Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. "Can we meet for a drink before you go?"

  "I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon."

  Something, like an invisible jab in the back, pressed him forward. "I'd really like to meet with you. An apology is in order."

  "There's no need for that, really."

  "I think there is. I'd like to see you before you go. Could I meet you at the airport?"

  A space of time elapsed, and Kipp was sure she was thinking of a way to let him down easy, and then she said, "I can be there early, say twelve-thirty. That should give me enough time to meet with you and get through security. My plane doesn't take off until three-fifteen. If you want, we can meet at Starbucks in the Main Terminal."

  "Great. I'll be there."

  "And really, there's no need to apologize." She hung up.

  Freed from the suffocated feeling that had gripped him, Kipp felt lighter than he had all week. His legs began to relax and weaken. Then reality set in. Tomorrow he and Libby, this strange yet bewitching woman, would be face to face.

  * * *

  One look in Ellen's impish eyes and Libby immediately regretted having taken the call in the kitchen instead of in her office. Ellen was perched on a chair next to her.

  "Was that who I thought it was?"

  Libby refused to answer and strode from the room with Ellen on her heels.

  "You know, the temperature is heating up again," Ellen said. "And I definitely mean heating up. I think that red sundress would be just perfect."

  "And I think you should go to bed and let me get packed."

  "Spoilsport." Ellen pranced from the bedroom, then looked in again. "Don't think too hard on what Jill said about Kipp's you-know-what."

  Libby gave Ellen a killer look. "I think I liked you better when you were depressed. At least I got a break from this Kipp thing you're so stuck on."

  "Something beyond me is drawing you two together. Fate or something. You have to admit that. But I get the credit. I thought of it first."

  Libby waved her off and closed the door. If Ellen only knew how close she was. Libby and Kipp were being drawn together, but the reason was still unclear. Recalling her resolve not to get involved with anyone, she hoped the purpose of the mystery had nothing to do with her personal life.

  * * *

  Ellen insisted on driving Libby to the airport. She complimented Libby on her appearance and told her she looked sexy in the white linen slacks and lavender scoop-necked blouse. She instructed Libby not to be aloof, to give Kipp a chance.

  Upon entering the terminal, Libby breathed easier. Being away from Ellen's incessant prodding, even if it was the friendly variety, was sheer relief.

  Late summer crowds swarmed the airport, and she had to stand in the check-in line longer than usual. It was one o'clock by the time she neared their arranged meeting place.

  Travelers were milling around Starbucks, but she didn't see Kipp. She had a sinking feeling he'd left and at the same time wondered why it mattered to her.

  Then Kipp appeared from behind two chatty women pulling carry-on luggage. Today he had on a pair of beige slacks, not jeans, and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. She was relieved to see him.

  He glanced at her blouse. "You look nice in that color."

  "Thanks."

  "I thought you weren't coming."

  "I thought you'd left."

  Libby agreed to accompany him to a nearby eatery where they ordered club sodas and he sat next to her at a table just outside the entrance.

  He turned his glass around and around, sliding his thumbs through the condensation before looking at her. "I think this is where I say I'm sorry for being such a jackass."

  "I told you, you don't have to apologize."

  "Yes, I do. I said some awful things to you. I'm truly sorry. I had no right."

  Touched by his sincerity, she placed her hand on his arm, then drew it back. "I accept your apology, but it really isn't necessary. It's normal to get emotional in those situations. I don't take it personally."

  He stopped twirling his glass and smiled for the first time since they'd met up. "So, where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "Denver. To a conference on intuition and creativity."

  "Are you teaching or participating?"

  "Teaching. Actually, there are a number of different topics being presented throughout the weekend. I'm just one of the presenters."

  He questioned her more about the conference and she sensed a genuine interest. She asked him about his former job as a national news reporter and all the exotic places it took him. He was surprised she hadn't seen his face on TV.

  As if on cue, a tall brunette, dressed in a flight attendant's uniform, came up to their table and asked Kipp for his autograph. He scribbled his name on a napkin and forced a smile. She acted as if she wanted to talk, but glanced at Libby and left.

  "You must have been a famous TV personality. I'm sorry I didn't know."

  His face turned a rich pink. "That never happens, at least it hasn't in a long time." He offered to buy Libby another club soda, but she refused. "Do you travel a lot?"

  "Too much. But it's my bread and butter." She leaned forward, making an effort to peer into his eyes. "Are you going to be okay? After our session..."

  "You brought up some things I didn't want to look at. I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

  She sensed his pain was deeper than she'd imagined. Offering him another reading seemed warranted, but she decided to respect his wishes and leave the subject alone. She had a feeling he'd come to her when he was ready.

  She glanced at her watch. "The time, it's gone by so fast."

  He agreed, and as she pushed her chair away from the table, he stood and said, "Would you have dinner with me?"

  He caught her off guard, and she grasped for an answer.

  "Please, I feel like I need to make amends for my stupidity."

  "There's no need," she said.

  "Then let me take you out to dinner, as a friend."

  She was about to decline when she stared into his eyes and saw the eyes of a man who had been beaten down, yet a man who showed tremendous strength and resilience. She found herself drawn to him.
"All right."

  "When will you be back?"

  "Sunday night."

  "May I pick you up at the airport, that is, if you don't have a ride? We could have a late dinner on the way back to your house."

  "That's out of your way, and I don't get in until seven-thirty."

  "I don't mind if you don't," he said. "I can stay at a friend's house if it gets too late to drive home. Please."

  Reluctantly, she agreed and gave him the arrival information. He walked her to the security checkpoint, and they said their goodbyes. When she glanced back, he was still standing there.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 7

  Traffic crowded the freeway, and Kipp hated traveling this time of day, especially on Fridays. He tried to avoid the chaos whenever possible. Keeping his attention on the cars ahead gave him no time for frivolous thoughts.

  An hour later the quaint town of Port Anderson and its snug little harbor came into view. He never tired of the scene from the top of the hill: the azure waters, sailboats moored at the marina, houses snuggled among the fir trees across the bay. Here, life was simple and less demanding--qualities that reminded him of the Connecticut town he'd lived in before he moved to the Pacific Northwest.

  He approached The Fish and Ale and considered stopping in, but instead continued around the bay and up the winding road.

  Entering his house was like a time warp. Its condition didn't match his new outlook on life. It looked like the home of someone who didn't care, someone who had no purpose: garbage on the counters, papers everywhere, clothes strewn over the furniture. What had changed for him? Libby came to mind. Though his week had been miserable, the short time they'd been together at the airport made him feel better.

  He changed into shorts and a tee shirt, put on a Rolling Stones CD, and launched the task of cleaning up. The music blared. He was singing along, straightening piles, and was deaf to the phone until the fourth ring. He turned down the volume and caught the phone before it switched to the recorder. But the voice on the line jerked him out of his good mood.