The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  Just when she was convinced she could get the hang of this thing, she nearly ran into the tripod which still held the digital recorder along with guaranteed disturbing images of her hypnosis session. She froze and retreated as if it posed a physical threat.

  She turned away and thought, “Okay, I am grateful for what that session revealed, even though I don’t like it...I can’t change it.”

  Oh. Acceptance. She was tiredly encouraged by the small revelation of progress and as she walked away from the device, she raised a hand to dismiss it, say aloud to no one but herself,

  “And I am grateful I have the choice not to see...not to watch...that.”

  She scooped up the remote control, considering a little boob tube therapy when the intercom buzzed. As she walked to the control panel on the wall, she wondered which of her three amigos it could be.

  James had opted to drive Mary home; it was his contribution to the joint effort to secure her place on the well prepared pedestal. Sandy, who would begin his full time role as Johnnie’s keeper with the trip to Washington D.C., had nearly had kittens when he realized neither of them had the proper attire with which to visit the White House tomorrow. Because they had a very early flight, he’d deployed for an evening mission to secure the necessary clothing and other items for the trip. James funded the entire spree and Johnnie was somewhat concerned about Sandy’s choices, reminding him to stick with something conservative; this was not a walk on the red carpet.

  Jeremy, who appeared capable of wearing any hat required, was out with Betsy who, unaccustomed to city life, had begun to show signs of cabin fever.

  Johnnie knew it was most likely Jeremy which scared the hell out of her, but kind of excited her too. Indeed, it was his low serious voice announcing “Avon Calling,” which slid through the intercom. She snickered in spite of herself, and pressed the button to allow entrance to the lower level. This gave her at least three to four minutes to strike the most unassuming pose possible on the couch, grabbing his book off the table as an afterthought.

  Betsy found her within a split second of bounding through the entryway and had her large head wedged between the book and Johnnie when Jeremy followed. She couldn’t believe he’d escorted the slobbery dog in suit pants that probably cost more than her last month’s rent. He’d lost the tie completely and was shaking off the jacket as he walked in. She had the book poised in the air, while she tried to push Betsy away from her face, too late to escape the first couple of tongue slaps.

  He tossed his jacket on a chair and stopped across the room, scratching his neck, one hand in a pocket.

  “No kidding? You’re reading that book, actually any book after a day like today.” A question-statement. He turned his head and furrowed his brow if he were genuinely curious.

  Pushing the writhing mass of fur away and dropping the book in the process, she said, “Apparently not.” She accepted the dog’s upper body into her lap, then said, “Thank you for taking her.” She really didn’t know what else to say, a state which in and of itself, was foreign to her.

  He smiled, of course, and headed across the room toward the bar.

  “Wine?” He asked as he made himself at home inspecting this bottle and that. “Your brother spends bank on wine... no Mad Dog here...”

  He lifted his head above the bar, holding a bottle of red in one hand and white in the other.

  She straightened as much as possible with the added weight on her chest.

  “Um...well, I really shouldn’t. I guess I really am going to meet the dang President tomorrow, and we have to go pretty early.” She didn’t sound particularly convincing.

  He stood in the dim room, two bottles still poised in midair. He crooked his mouth in an understanding expression, and replied, “Yeah, I can see your point. So...wine?”

  When he gave her a glass and sat nearby on the couch, she just spit it out.

  “Why did you become a lawyer?” He looked at her in surprise, but after a second’s consideration, he carefully replied.

  “Well, I guess for a few reasons. I...had some issues when I was a kid. I stuttered.” He looked at her quickly as if waiting for a response, and when she continued to look at him over Betsy’s now-still head, he continued, “And I was bullied. A lot. First I decided I’d get strong so I could fight back...I did both in high school...got strong and did some fighting. And then I decided I’d rather use my words – I hadn’t had them for so long, you know?” He smiled, then after setting his glass back down, he finished. “And I had a pretty strong need to make things right. Being a lawyer kind of made sense.”

  He had never articulated this combination of facts in his life, but he seemed content to have done so tonight. He almost got to take a drink of the wine when she lobbed the next round of questions.

  “So, what’s the connection? After the whole spiel about the President, everyone pretty much lost their minds around here. But you kind of had a moment, there, when that call came in...you know, the one from Hoffstedder?” She didn’t feel as confident as she tried to sound. She was almost afraid to ask, because she honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. But she had to know. “What’s the deal?”

  His cheeks filled with air for a moment as he glanced at her. He blew it out and sat his glass down, still full.

  “I talked to Sandy about your session...I guess something came up in your session about a kid that could suddenly speak...right.” He had pointed at the recorder when he spoke, but when he looked back at her, her eyes narrowed on him. She shook her head slightly, not understanding.

  He exhaled.

  “Like I said. I stuttered as kid...badly.” He looked at her and after falling silent for a moment he apparently decided to cut to the chase. “Long story short...I was feeling really bad on the schoolyard one day, this little girl came out of nowhere and...” His eyebrows went up and he swallowed. She saw a hint of tears. “Well, as I remember it, she held my hand for a few minutes and I’d never felt better. And she left. And I could talk.” She said nothing, but stared at him. She didn’t want to follow, but the slow realization was a bombshell, nonetheless.

  “And the first person I told was my teacher, Mr. Hoffstedder. I grew up in Normal, Illinois.” He smiled, not so much embarrassed as humble, and shrugged, as he picked up his wine glass.

  She looked away and was very quiet. She forced herself to stay still. She didn’t want to withdraw...but she felt so vulnerable right now. With all the things she had to deal with right now, she couldn’t believe that she was getting her panties in a knot over a guy. But...it was something she could try to handle here and now. She squirmed in her seat, pushing the drowsy dog’s torso to join her one leg on the floor. And she sat her glass down; for once, she didn’t want to ease her mind or feelings.

  “So was that what the deal was with all the staring and stuff yesterday?” She refused to sound like a hurt girl, so she steadied her voice. “You had figured it out…that maybe I was that girl? Why didn’t you just say something....it’s not like anyone here would have questioned you. I feel pretty stupid right now...”

  His hand flew up and he started to speak, then stopped. He started to stand, then had second thoughts. He settled back down and said, “No. I didn’t make the connection until Hoffstedder’s name came up. It hit me like a ton of bricks.” He looked at her with an openness and honesty that she wouldn’t have thought capable of a lawyer. He looked so believable, but his words were ridiculous.

  “Really. Really? So you’d spent about twenty-four hours in my crazy-ass world and even got to play in it....then last night you got a very detailed description of my particular talents...in chronological order. Shit, you even told me you and James had lived in the same town for a while when you were a kid! Do you think there are just random girls that spring up and heal people? It never entered your mind? Even though I’m not thrilled with my part in this, even I don’t believe those odds, Jeremy.”

  She had no idea why she was so close to crying and it pissed he
r off. Her waterworks were way too active lately and this was not a good time for the flow to kick on.

  She had no expectation of his becoming emotional too. His initial response shut her up.

  “You’re the only one who’s allowed to forget these things? I didn’t know there were rules.” He immediately regretted his statement, especially when he saw her face redden and her jaw set. He slid along the couch in her direction and although he didn’t touch her, he held his hand out, as if to stop the momentum of the conversation.

  “Wait. I’m sorry. Look, my parents convinced me that my encounter with some girl was not the cause of the stuttering just going away. They thought it was somewhere between an emotional response to almost getting beat up...and divine intervention. But they managed to distract me enough – and I was happy to be done with it all... and I just moved on with my life and...honestly, until he called yesterday and you said his name, I just didn’t make the connection.” He leaned back and threw his hands in the air if to show her that was the best he had to offer.

  She stared at him, wanting to believe him. She had to believe him. She had finally decided she believed him when he said the worst thing he could have said,

  “Thank you. I guess that should have been the first thing I should have done when I remem...”

  “No!” She said it so suddenly and loudly that a startled Betsy raised her head in confusion. Johnnie gently pushed the dog’s head back into the sleeping position as she composed herself, cleared her throat and looked at the perplexed man next to her, trying not to show the extent of her emotion.

  “No. Please don’t say that. Not you.” She sucked her lips in, realizing this probably would require an explanation she wasn’t ready to give.

  He turned his head slightly and stared at her – but it wasn’t a bad stare. It wasn’t that stare -- that look she’d gotten from Lisa or Jeff; this was Jeremy, and this look was his. She had never known anyone like him and wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she knew for sure that she needed to lighten things up.

  She picked up her wine glass and said, evenly, “Just consider it a pro-bono healing thing – you know, like a paid public announcement.” She smiled at him, then, without warning to herself, she added, “Jeremy, for this one, I don’t want to remember it. I don’t – not the thing with you.”

  The air around them seemed to shift and it was so pronounced, she touched the chair arm to steady herself. Of course, it didn’t work.

  “I guess I don’t want to either.” He looked down, then back at her. “Nothing personal. But I don’t want this to be about that. I was kind of okay with the direction this was taking before...”

  “Oh.” She looked at him like he might be a little off his center. Not to mention she was trying not to feel the same way. “You mean the direction this was taking for that whole day we’ve known each other?” She laughed nervously to demonstrate at how silly that seemed.

  “Well. Yes.” He said, very frankly and smiled.

  “Jeremy...” She leaned away, thinking a few inches might clear her mind. Then her mouth did its thing.

  “Lookit. I am not even in your league. Are you sure this isn’t that knight in shining armor thing?...I mean, after all, James said you saved my ass yesterday, and I can see how a successful guy like you could see me as a damsel in distress. Although I don’t think I ever qualified as a damsel...Or, aw geez, maybe it’s more like I’m seeing it that way? Oh, shit.” She looked away and took a deep breath. He didn’t make it any easier on her by speaking up. The only sound was dog’s snore and she couldn’t stand it.

  She couldn’t hide, so with a deep breath and a cringe, she looked at him.

  “I’m making an ass out of myself, huh?”

  He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head with mock prudent sternness.

  “Under the circumstances, I think it best I not comment on your ass at this time.” He smiled and picked up his glass, touching it to hers, responding to her rambling questions.

  “None of that stuff, Johnnie.” He sounded so much like a regular guy, that she forgot her nervousness as he continued. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure this is your basic, run of the mill, boy likes girl thing. Just without the ‘basic,’ or ‘run of the mill’ parts. Oh, and the boy is forty years old.’”

  She looked at him with a neutral expression although she was secretly wondering when forty years olds went from being old guys to this... But she said, instead, “I have always been partial to senior citizens.”

  He had no time to respond, when the intercom blared. She almost jumped out of her skin and quickly handed him her glass, standing and navigating around the dog.

  Emboldened by the promise of company, she said over her shoulder, “Saved by the bell! We wouldn’t want to be caught making out on the couch by my brother or seven-foot body guard after all.”

  Jeremy watched her cross the room, with a catch in his chest. He wished it was going to be that simple, the boy and girl thing. But something told him nothing with this woman was simple.

  __________________________________________________________________

  In a motel room in Toledo, Ohio, another couple huddled over a laptop, at a small desk. Both had reading glasses perched on their noses and as their heads leaned closer to the screen, each pointed to the same spot and they burst into a high five. They were exhausted but excited by their discoveries and stood slowly, with creaking bones, to discuss their next move. Neither could have guessed the avalanche of information their first dig of the day would cause.

  That morning, on the drive from South Bend to Toledo, Byron had been on a high from the earlier phone conversation and its implications. Although they had no idea what, if anything, the pairing of the young woman and the President would bring, both Byron and Margie felt vindicated and excited about their role to this point.

  James Cain had returned to the earlier conference call when Margie had asked about Frank Wallace, he knew that Wallace was President Liang’s top advisor and shared the fact with them. He and Sylvia were already light years ahead of everyone else in the deductive reasoning which the call induced; Jeremy’s connection with Hoffstedder only fueled their speculation. James had thanked the Hoffstedders and invited open communication, passing on alternate phone numbers...and he respectfully asked that they continue, for the time being, with their dig since it had reaped significant results so far.

  But what promised to be a miles-long quest, ended very quickly and unexpectedly later that day while in Toledo.

  After a ridiculously short search in Johnnie’s old neighborhood, the two found an elderly resident who remembered the small family of renters from the neighborhood at the time in question...a single Mom and two children. But the old woman who was so eager to talk had immediately trumpeted to the couple that she was surprised they weren’t there to ask about a more famous neighbor. They, in Toledo, were the proud home town of the current Secretary of State, Toby Chrone, and wouldn’t you know, he grew up three houses down!

  Although Margie and Byron were initially put off by their source’s change of subject, in short order, the implications dawned on them. Although they didn’t ask, outright, what Johnnie’s involvement may have been with the Chrone family, Byron chatted the lady up about things Chrone may have overcome to move up and out of such humble surroundings. Particularly if it was an event, say, in the late 80’s.

  Margie barely had time to admire her husband’s approach, when the old lady cried,

  “Oh my, yes! It wasn’t so much our humble neighborhood as the car from out of town that run that boy down. Little Toby...we never knew how he survived. The emergency fellows, when they got here, said from the looks of it, he should have been dead or crippled...especially since he must have laid there for an hour before anyone noticed. His folks, they said it was a little angel that saved him...they didn’t see it, they just knew what he said when they found him.”

  It was all the couple could do to keep from hugging the old gossip and dash
ing away, but they politely maintained small talk and waited till they were back in the car to erupt into excited chatter and speculation.

  Although they could have made it to the next town on their list by late that night, the couple agreed to get a room and follow the not-so-dim path which seemed to lay out before them. They stayed in a much better motel than Byron had become accustomed, although their only true need was a fast internet connection. By five that afternoon, they were at work.

  It was beyond fortunate that due to his stint in journalism, Byron had more advanced internet research skills than most folks his age. It was an additional bonus that Margie was a quick study. They combined skills and proved to be a near machine in their cyber efforts.

  After a few intense hours at the grindstone, the explosive high-five represented the third hit, out of many misses in a semi-organized attempt to match Johnnie Carter’s childhood residences with men or women currently associated with the White House. It was Margie’s idea to scan the President’s entire executive office, as opposed to the more obvious heavy hitters. It paid off. They were tired, starved and very excited.

  Margie looked up nearby restaurants as Byron called Wei and James with compelling information that the young girl had, in some way, interacted with and almost certainly impacted five key people. In addition to President Liang and his top advisor, Frank Wallace, Johnnie had crossed paths with Toby Chrone, the Secretary of State, Donna Pettigrew, the White House Chief of staff, and, oddly but possibly significantly, David Carver, the Director of Science and Technology on the Executive staff.

  Once the calls were made and excitedly received, the couple intended to research farther into the night, but only after a break at the nearest Denny’s. Byron was sure he had died and gone to heaven.