He heard her sigh long and hard, then sniffle as if she were crying. She spoke so softly when she gave him the telephone number that he almost didn’t hear her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Terrance.” he told her, before hanging up and to call Terrance’s office.
“I need to speak to Mr. Terrance.”
“Who's calling?” the secretary asked suspiciously.
“Brennan Rawley.”
“Is he expecting a call from you?” she asked and Bren knew they must be getting many calls from reporters here, too.
“No, just tell him that I’m a friend of Hope's.”
While Brennan waited, he said a silent prayer that the man would take his call.
“This is Mark Terrance.”
“Mr. Terrance, I'm Brennan, a friend of Hope's.”
“I know.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“What would we have to talk about?”
Brennan thought a moment. “I have some things of hers that I thought you might want. I realize you two were close.”
Mark took a moment. “Why don't we meet somewhere? Any suggestions?”
“Why not my house in an hour?”
“Fine, I know where you live.”
Brennan was shocked. “How—”
“Hope checked up on you often. Always feared you'd get yourself into some kind of trouble. I went along with her once.”
Brennan didn’t say anything else, and seconds later he heard the phone click. Slowly he put it back on the receiver and gave a half-laugh, half-sigh.
“She checked up on me.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair.
Hope's expression did not falter when she entered his apartment and saw him, his face bruised and sprinkled with a growth of dark blond hair. She tossed her purse onto the couch, then moved to the kitchen and gathered a wet towel and some ice. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, forcing him to sit.
Brennan flinched when she began to clean the cut on his lip. She didn’t even appear sorry she had hurt him, just went along washing him. She dropped the ice into the towel and pressed it to his bruised face.
“How'd you know?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his words a bit slurred.
She sighed and for the first time, she showed some emotion. The pain in her eyes was so intense, he couldn't bear to look at her.
“Jim called me when he saw your car at the bar. I told him to call me back when you got home.”
“You shouldn't be here. I can take care of myself, Hope.”
She cocked her head sideways. “Of course you can.”
“That guy deserved to get the crap beat out of him.”
“And I'm sure you handled that.” she said, not sounding at all sarcastic, though he knew she was mocking him.
“I just went out to have a little fun.”
“Yes, and from what I've heard you've been having fun everyday for the past two weeks.”
“Jim, that bastard! This is none of his business either.”
Her chin slowly went up into the air and she looked down at him. “We’re your friends and you know that— but you're right. It probably isn't any of our business.”
“Then why don't you just leave? I don't want you here.”
Hope peered at him a moment, then stood and took her purse. “You really want me to go?”
“Get the hell out of here.”
She walked away and eyed him one more time before she opened the door. “Bye, Brennan.”
Not an hour later, Brennan picked up the phone and dialed Hope’s number. He struggled not to hang up after the second ring. When she finally answered he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Were you sleeping?” His voice was raspy with emotion.
“Of course not.”
He sniffed and remained quiet for a moment. “Could you come over?”
“I'll be there in a minute.”
He left the door cracked open for her. She entered and found him sitting on the floor, stacks of photos all around him and a wooden cigar box in his lap. He did not get up, did not even look at her when she came in, just continued pulling things from another larger box, looking at them, then throwing them into the fire.
Hope approached him and just stood waiting for some cue as to what he needed. He grabbed a small picture of a little boy and his mother, fishing. His fingers trembled, then he dropped the photo as if it had burned him and his shoulders began to shake.
“I didn't—say good-bye.” he grated.
She fell to her knees and pulled his head into her chest. Tears poured over her own face as he cried against her. Hope rubbed his head, rocking him like a child, not saying anything, just lending him comfort and strength.
A shudder went through his body and he lifted his face and peered at her. She brushed his long, dark blond hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.”
His eyes began to well again and he searched his soul for the strength to speak.
“I didn't think it was as bad as it was. I was just a selfish bastard as usual—”
Hope did not speak, just waited patiently for him to go on.
“I didn't tell her—tell her good-bye, Hope. I didn't tell her I loved her and—all Mom wanted was to see me before— she went. I wasn't there and she died waiting— for me— she died! She died!” Brennan began to scream in rage and pain. He kicked the box and photographs and papers flew everywhere.
Minutes passed and he continued his tirade, throwing pictures, dropping them into the fireplace, and screaming about not being able to say good-bye. Hope knelt there and watched, her expression evidence of the way her heart broke along with his. She sniffed and sobbed with him as Brennan released all of the pain that had been building in him for the past two weeks.
Then just as suddenly as they had started, his hysterics stopped and he dropped onto the couch putting his head in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Hope crawled to him and pulled his hands down into hers. Squeezing them, she smiled even as a tear rolled along her face.
Brennan did not smile back, but his face seemed more relaxed and the bruises and cuts were not so profound now. He clenched his eyes closed and fell back against the cushions of the couch, pulling Hope up to sit next to him.
“Could you—” He spoke in a husky voice. “Could we just sit here for a while and not talk?”
“Of course,” she replied as she always did and wrapped him up in her arms.
Brennan nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell jolted him from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, realizing it must be Mark Terrance. When he opened the door, the man looked at him with a bit of a smirk on his face.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked.
Bren touched his face and he could feel the indentations left by the pillow on which he’d been laying. “Just a nap,” he replied and motioned Mark inside.
“Now, what is it you have of Hope’s?” Terrance inquired, wasting no time.
“Sit down.” Brennan gestured to the couch. “Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Terrance?”
“Call me Mark, and no, I just want to know what all this is about.”
“Last night I was in Houston, and I ran into Hope at a service station.”
Mark's face paled. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. “She spoke to you?”
“Yes, I ran her down when I recognized her. She begged me not to tell anyone I saw her, but something told me when I read about that letter in the paper that you knew she was still alive.”
“I knew,” the man answered.
“Do you have the letter? Can I read it?”
Mark studied him a moment.
“Please.” Brennan begged when he saw the hesitation. “I don't want to do anything to hurt her.”
“The cops have the actual letter, but I made a copy before I let them have it. Here.” He pulled the folded note from his wallet.
Dear Mark,
&
nbsp; I'm sorry about the money, but I have no choice in the matter. Don't worry, I'll pay you back as soon as possible. I suppose I should get right to the point. Tonight I will kidnap a baby, Michelle, from her grandparents. I know you probably think I must be out of my mind, but I have good reason.
Michelle's mother Justine has just been sent to prison for manslaughter. I think I’ve told you this story, but Justine was a prostitute I was counseling with the church. She and I became friends, and she confided to me that her father sexually and physically abused her. I finally pulled her from the prostitution, and I found her an apartment and helped her through most of her pregnancy.
Casey Leonard, a man she used to “work” for, found her and tried to get Justine to leave with him. When she refused, he tried to force her. In the struggle, she hit him on the head with a lamp and killed him.
I tell you, I swear to you, that Justine is not a criminal, but a victim. Leonard turned out to be a hot shot business man, and the prosecutor convinced the jury that Justine was bribing him for money by threatening to go to the press about his prostitution ring.
Her parents got custody even though Justine swore that she was physically and sexually abused. I can’t allow little Michelle to grow up in that home. I will not allow it. Please understand.
I won't get back in touch with you. I do not want anyone to believe you are an accomplice in this. Just believe that I love you and Cindy and always remember me. Good-bye.
Love,
Hope
Brennan folded the paper, gave it back to Mark. “She can't do this alone.”
He nodded. “What are your plans?”
“I'm going to go with her.”
Mark shook his head and released a frustrated laugh. “Do you know what you're saying? This thing may never go away. She might have to spend her entire life hiding. Can you sacrifice your life?”
Brennan cut a wry grin. “She'll need someone to help her get settled somewhere.” He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at Mark again. “She's told you everything about me, hasn't she?”
Terrance sat up a little straighter, a defensive stance. “She's told me enough.”
“We’re all stupid kids at one time or another in our lives, Mark. I know I hurt her, but still she's always been there to help pick me up. She's always helping someone, but this time she’s in way over her head. She can’t do this alone. I owe her something for her friendship all those years. Besides, I don't have to stay away forever. I just want to make sure she makes it to a safe place and is able to care for herself.”
Again Mark nodded, sighing. “You know where she is?”
“She should still be in Houston. I don't know where she's staying, but I'll find her.”
“Keep your inquiries vague. Don't let anyone suspect who it is you're looking for. The cops believe she's dead, but they won't hesitate to reopen this case if so much as one clue shows up.”
“I realize that.”
“Do you need anything? Money? Anything?”
Bren shook his head and stood, pacing the room. “No, I have money.”
“Fine, just be careful.” He turned for the door, then thought better of it and spun back around to face the younger man again. “Don't let her down this time, Brennan.”
He put out his hand to the older man and smiled. “Thank you for your help, Mark. Good-bye.”
Mark shook his hand, and both men smiled to cover the worry they were feeling.
“Bye. And try to send me some sort of word to let me know you're all okay. And let her know from the start if you don’t plan to stay with her. It will break her heart to believe she has you by her side, then to lose you.”
“I will. Is there anything you'd like me to tell her?”
“No, just that I love her and am thinking of her. And if the two of you ever need anything, just ask me. I'll always be here.”
When Mark was gone, Bren picked up his phone and called Jim. The friends owned a business together and even though Brennan’s daily interaction these days was minimal, he still owed his partner some kind of an explanation.
“Hey, man!” Jim exclaimed when he answered the phone. “How was that hot and heavy cruise? You put a ring on her finger yet?”
Brennan snorted, propping the phone between his ear and shoulder while he started exchanging the dirty clothes in his travel duffel for clean ones. “’Fraid not. Things aren’t going to work out with Jenny.”
“Ahahaha. I could’ve told you that about two months ago and saved you the cost of that trip. She’s not what you need.”
Silence ensued a minute and he could hear Jim tapping on his keyboard, probably entering figures into his accounting software. After high school, the two friends started working for Jim’s uncle, doing home improvement, plumbing and handyman type jobs. Bren even went so far as to work toward becoming a master plumber. When Brennan’s mother passed, he inherited a bit of cash and decided to buy out the business. It eventually morphed into a sort of an employment business, the two men arranging workers for contractors and sub-contractors. Jim was good with numbers so the two of them had gone in together as partners. Later Brennan realized he was much better at the sales, planning and logistics, so most days he worked via his computer.
“You okay?” Jim finally asked, and Brennan could hear shuffling on the phone, indicating his friend was switching the receiver from one ear to the other.
“I need some time, man. I need to try to figure things out. Can you handle things if I skip out a while?” He knew Jim could take care of things. These days Brennan mostly handled marketing and promotions, spending very little time on job sites.
Another period of quiet, then, “You okay? I mean, you’re not gonna go off and get into some trouble, are you?”
Smiling, he shook his head even though his friend couldn’t see the gesture. Leave it to Jim to stab straight at the heart of what was on his mind. Brennan had never been a stranger to “trouble” in all the years of their friendship. “Nah, no trouble. Just a breather.”
“Listen, I know you’re ready to settle down. Mindy’s been telling me you’re lonely for a long time now. Just because Jenny’s not the one doesn’t mean you won’t find someone, ya know?”
“Yeah, I realize that. I just need some perspective, okay? I’ll keep in touch and you can contact me if you need me?”
“Bren—”
He stopped folding a shirt and waited for Jim to continue talking.
“Have you seen the news? The papers?”
He felt his stomach lurch, and he took a deep breath. “You mean about Hope?”
“Yeah. You know, then?”
Brennan swallowed to clear his dry mouth and nodded mutely into the phone. “I know. I don’t know what to think about it. She was always getting herself into things like this. And always to help other people.”
Jim laughed, but the sound was hollow. Bren knew his friend must be grieving in his own right. He regretted not telling him the truth. Hope was his friend too, but it wasn’t fair to get Jim wrapped up in this when he had his own family to take care of.
“Seems like now that she’s gone, I keep finding a reason I want to call her. We hadn’t talked much in a few weeks.”
“You okay?” Bren asked, plopping down on his bed and causing the headboard to hit the wall with a thump.
Jim sighed. “I’m good, man. What about you? Is this part of the reason you’re taking a break?”
“I guess in a way it is. Just because we haven’t been close in a long time doesn’t mean I didn’t miss her too.” It was the truth after all. “But I’m cool. I swear. You have anything you need to run by me before I go?”
“Yeah, let me pull a few things real quick.”
Brennan listened absently while he finished packing. He wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible so that he could catch Hope before she disappeared forever.
Hope slowly pulled down the padded kneeler and bent to pray while little Michelle
slept quietly in her carrier. Soft organ music drifted through the church, and she felt tears sting her eyes as she recognized the song. Clenching her hands together, she closed her eyes and sought the strength to face all that might be ahead of her.
As her mind wandered to her family and friends, she dropped her head and felt a sob begin to build in her throat. She imagined the pain and suffering her mother and father must be going through now, believing her dead. What kind of daughter does that to her parents? She longed to write to Mark so that he could share with them the truth of her circumstances, but she knew it would be better to wait a while longer, until the fervor of everything died down.
The choir director's voice told the congregation to open their hymnals and sing as the mass began. Hope took several deep breaths, struggling to bring herself under control, and then raised her head and began to stand.
When she looked up and saw a pair of tender blue eyes peering down, her knees gave out, and she slid back down onto the kneeler. Brennan glanced at the baby resting behind her, then smiled a little and came to stand next to her. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up just as the priest was entering the church.
“How did you find me here?” she murmured, shock showing clear on her face.
“It's Sunday. I thought you'd come to mass, and this is the only Catholic church in the area of that service station. I took a chance.”
“But why?”
Bren squeezed her hand and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “You didn't think I'd let you do this alone, did you?”
Hope was seated in the church, her rosary clutched tightly in her hand as she silently repeated the Hail Mary over the last decade of beads. Easter was fast approaching and she had always been told that Catholics should say a rosary at least once during the Lenten Season.
Though she was no longer in high school, she still attended Mass more often than not. Most of her Catholic friends had ceased their goings-on with the church the moment they became old enough that their parents couldn’t force them, but Hope was different. Her feelings about church dogma had changed with adolescence, but the comfort she got from attending the mass couldn’t be underestimated. She attributed it to her mother who had planted a strong faith within her heart.
All for Hope Page 2
