by Gail Sattler
Before she realized he’d moved, Monty grasped both her hands, riveting her attention to his face. “Cindy, she dumped me off like unwanted baggage. A couple of days before I was to start kindergarten, she took me to the mall, sat me on a bench in the middle of the food court with two plastic bags beside me, told me to stay there, and said she was getting dinner. That was the last I saw of her. When the mall closed, the security guard called the police to take me away. I was taken to a juvenile care center and then on to the first of many foster homes.”
She couldn’t conceive of a mother doing that, nor could she imagine the trauma to a small child. “How awful.”
He stared off into space. “I know I shouldn’t let it bug me, it was so long ago, but I’ll never forget my first day of school. The first day of kindergarten, the other mothers hugged and cried over the other kids being dropped off, and a lot of the mothers spent most of the day in the classroom. The social worker patted me on the head, sent me in, and as soon as I was inside the classroom, she left. I felt sure that my mother would pick me up when all the other moms came, but of course, she didn’t. For the longest time, I hoped she would just show up and take me home. I never saw her again.”
“Are you sure nothing happened to her? She didn’t have an accident or something?”
He still didn’t look at her as he spoke. “No. When they looked through the bags my mother left, I remember the security guard talking to the police officer. There was a note saying my mother didn’t want to be stuck with a kid anymore and not to try to look for her because she made sure they would never find her.”
Cindy gulped. “Do you remember her?”
“Only through the eyes of a child. I don’t even have a picture of her. My most outstanding memory is that she was always very busy, different men were always coming and going, there was a lot of smoking and drinking, and looking back as an adult, I’m sure there were illegal drugs. And we moved a lot. Often the police came, which made me even more frightened of them when they took me away from the mall. We’d just moved again when she abandoned me, so I couldn’t even lead them to where I lived. They never did find her, or if they did, they’ve sealed the records. Obviously I’ve never seen my father. I don’t know if she knew who he was.”
“Oh, Monty. . .”
He turned to face her for a second, then turned away. “Don’t feel sorry for me. God took care of me when my mother didn’t. Now let’s pack up and keep going.”
They’d barely started again when Cindy thought she heard a phone ring. Monty halted in front of her, shucked off his backpack, and quickly dug through one of the outside pockets and pulled out his cellular phone.
Cindy tried not to let her mouth hang open as Monty opened the case and hit the button.
He shrugged his shoulders, then turned away. “Smythe Computers,” he answered brusquely, then nodded a few times as he listened to the caller. He looked around, then cautiously stepped atop a fallen tree in an attempt to get better reception.
Cindy watched, dumbfounded, as Monty explained something in complicated high-tech computer lingo.
Upon completion of the call, he snapped the phone shut and eased himself down, carefully settling all his weight on his right leg. Then, he picked up his backpack, which he had left on the ground at Cindy’s feet.
Cindy tapped her foot, but her thick-soled hiking boot didn’t produce the desired effect, scrunching into the mulch of the trail rather than producing the more satisfying sharp staccato sound of a rap against a tile floor. She crossed her arms. “We were supposed to be communing with nature.”
He grinned sheepishly. “I have my office calls forwarded to my cell phone after hours and weekends.” He shrugged his shoulders, tucked the phone back into its case, and then slipped the backpack over his shoulders.
She didn’t move or speak but continued to stand with her arms crossed.
“I can’t expect my staff to be on call on weekends, especially when most of the time I’m at home working beside the phone, anyway.”
She remembered he’d mentioned spending a lot of time working, including weekends. Up until now, though, she had no idea what that meant in practical terms. “You’d better not have a palm-size computer in there,” she mumbled.
He laughed, but she noticed he didn’t confirm or deny it.
Cindy led for awhile, again making sure they walked slowly and stopped often. By the time Monty took the lead once more, she noticed a significant change. He limped heavily. Although they were walking on fairly level ground, she saw traces of moisture on his brow. Of course, he said nothing.
Finally the path widened again, permitting them to walk side by side. Unlike the beginning of their journey, their conversation was stilted. She knew he wasn’t out of breath, but Monty wasn’t talking much. She felt an almost tangible stab into her heart, watching him try to remain cheerful, when she suspected he felt anything but.
By the time they reached the car, Monty’s pace was slow and labored and his limp very pronounced. Even knowing his reaction, she had to ask, “Are you all right?”
He nodded as he tossed his backpack into the backseat, then cautiously eased himself into the passenger seat, using his arms to lower himself in, noticeably not putting any weight on his left leg. “I may have overdone it a bit, but I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
She worried anyway but said nothing.
Their initial plans were to go out for a greasy hamburger after their hike, but instead Cindy drove him straight home. She had to bite her lower lip and fight the tightening in her throat as she watched him pull himself out of the car.
Before he left, Monty turned and bent at the waist to lean into the car window, supporting his weight on his arms, bracing himself against the door frame. “Thanks, Cindy. We’ll have to do this again. I’ll be in touch.” As he disappeared into his apartment building, his limp was the worst she’d ever seen.
And he never tried to kiss her good-bye.
❧
The words to Pastor Colin’s sermon went in one ear and out the other. She’d never strayed from paying attention in the past, yet it had now happened two weeks in a row, and she knew the reason. To get her mind back on track, Cindy tried reading the notes on the back of the bulletin. It didn’t help.
Monty hadn’t shown up at her door this morning. She’d waited for him. As the time for her to leave drew closer, she picked up the phone a dozen times, then hung up before she finished dialing his number. For the first time, Erin left before she did but thankfully said nothing. Also for the first time, she arrived only minutes before the service started and snuck into a seat in the back row.
She keenly felt Monty’s absence. Even though they’d only attended church together once, she almost felt as though a part of her was missing. After the service, rather than mingling around to chat, she hurried home to check the answering machine. The display read zero.
Cindy couldn’t stand it anymore. She dialed his number, but only got Monty’s answering machine. Instead of telling him how worried she was, Cindy left a short, cheery message along with a request to call her back.
She stayed home, despite Erin’s repeated requests to join her and Troy for the evening service. Monty didn’t call.
He still hadn’t called by the time she crawled into bed. Most of her prayers centered on him and waffled between prayers for healing and whatever it was that was happening between them. Cindy feared that despite her caution and careful discretion surrounding the circumstances of meeting him, it was too late. She had fallen in love with Montgomery Smythe.
Ten
The intercom buzzed. “I need a coffee, please, and then I need to see you.”
Cindy nearly choked on her coffee. She couldn’t remember the last time Robert had said “please,” which told her she wasn’t going to like what he was going to ask. Cindy immediately abandoned her work to pour his coffee, then hurried into his office to find out what was wrong.
While Robert sifted through the file in front
of him, Cindy discreetly checked her watch. She’d only been at work half an hour and didn’t want to appear too anxious, therefore she planned to wait until nine-thirty to phone Monty at his office. The arrival of a small vase containing a red salvia, a white hyacinth, and a yellow carnation only served to make it worse, being a constant reminder of him as she watched the clock.
Robert slid the contract she had taken to Monty’s office across the desk. “There’s been a small amendment, and I’m going to ask you to retype the last page and take it back to Smythe Computers and have it signed again.” He handed her a paper outlining the changes. “We need it right away, and I need you to witness it again and be back in time for the one o’clock meeting. And then I’ll need the notes from the meeting typed, so you’ll have to stay overtime.”
She didn’t care about the overtime. This was the chance she needed. Instead of merely phoning, she could see him in person. Cindy thanked God for His timing, grabbed the paper out of Robert’s hand, and rushed back to her desk.
Fortunately, she managed to complete the corrections with little interruption. Before she ran to the elevator, she brushed her fingers over the velvety flower petals. She couldn’t believe the ache in her heart after not hearing back from him.
Cindy drove to Monty’s office as fast as she could without getting a ticket. When she entered the reception area, her heart nearly stopped. He wasn’t in his office. No suit jacket hung over the back of the chair, and the desk was as neat as a pin.
She turned to Agnes. “Will Montgomery be back soon? He wasn’t expecting me.”
She tried not to squirm as Agnes studied her face and then the large manila envelope in her hand.
“Montgomery phoned to say he won’t be in today. He said he likely wouldn’t be in tomorrow, either.”
Cindy’s stomach tightened into a knot. She knew he never missed work unless he was so sick he couldn’t drag himself out of bed.
At Cindy’s silence, Agnes continued. “I wouldn’t tell anyone else but you, but I’m worried about him. He didn’t do any work this weekend. The few times he’s phoned in sick, he’d at least done some work from home, and so far today he hasn’t even answered his E-mail. In fact, he hasn’t done anything all weekend. If I hadn’t spoken to him personally on the phone, I’d be in a state of panic right now. It’s spooky, almost like when he had his accident. You can’t imagine how frantic we were at that time. He didn’t show up for work. He didn’t call. He didn’t answer his phone. And nothing was being done from his home. It took us three days to find out what happened to him.”
At least Cindy knew why he’d done nothing Saturday, but that didn’t explain Sunday or today’s lack of correspondence. A surge of relief passed through her, knowing Agnes had spoken to him personally.
“Did he say what was wrong?”
“Montgomery? Of course not.”
She knew the woman was worried. Monty had joked about Agnes and her concern for him, but deep down, she knew he appreciated it. Cindy glanced once more at his empty office, as if she needed the reminder, then turned around. “Can I use a phone?”
Agnes’s gaze wandered through the room, then settled on Monty’s office. “You might as well use Montgomery’s phone. He’s usually very particular about his office, but I think for you he’d make an exception.”
She dialed Monty’s number but only got his answering machine. When he didn’t answer after she called out to him to pick it up, she phoned Robert. While she waited for him to answer, she studied Monty’s office. Every paper and accessory sat in perfectly straight order. The only thing that might have been considered out of place was a pile of computer disks neatly stacked beside Monty’s keyboard on the otherwise empty desk. She didn’t dare touch anything, but the label caught her eye, only because it was the single thing in the office that wasn’t perfect. The words “Trashing Troy” had been crossed out, and beneath that, neatly printed, were the words “Prince’s Perils.” She turned her head. Cindy didn’t think she wanted to even guess what that was all about.
Without divulging any details, she confirmed with Robert that her errand would take longer than originally anticipated, said a quick good-bye to Agnes, and hurried back to her car. On the way to Monty’s apartment, she made a quick detour at the drive-thru of the local hamburger joint. If she needed to justify herself, she could admit on the surface that she was doing this as a favor to Robert, followed by the excuse that she knew how important this business alliance was for Monty. As she got closer to Monty’s apartment, she could no longer make excuses for herself. She was worried sick about him.
When she arrived at the front door, she noted that his apartment was the penthouse, which shouldn’t have surprised her. She buzzed his number, but as she expected, he didn’t answer.
While she fidgeted, wondering what to do, a woman exited the elevator and walked toward the door. Taking her chances, Cindy hustled inside before the woman could protest her unauthorized entry into the building.
The elevator rose quickly and silently. At the twenty-fifth floor, she stepped onto the thick red carpet and tapped lightly on his door. When he didn’t respond, she tapped louder.
“Monty, open up. It’s me, Cindy.”
She waited, but he didn’t answer.
Cindy’s heart pounded as she knocked louder. “Monty, please, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
Silence answered her. Panic started to overtake her as she banged on the door with her fist.
She heard his voice, muffled through the door. “I’m not accepting visitors.”
The door didn’t open, nor did she hear movement inside. “Please. . .” Cindy rattled the doorknob. At least now she knew he hadn’t died after speaking to Agnes earlier this morning. “I brought you some lunch.” She hoped that perhaps food if not her presence would entice him.
Nothing. She knocked again. “Monty, open the door. I’m worried about you. I’m not leaving until you open the door, even if it means I stay here all day.”
When that garnered no response, she leaned both palms against the door and spoke loudly into it. “If you don’t let me in, I’m going to find the building superintendent and tell him there’s an emergency, that I think you’re dead or something, and he’ll use the master key to let me in. I’m not kidding!”
She pressed her ear to the door, and when she heard a shuffle, she straightened and waited.
Slowly, the door opened, and Monty appeared, scowling. His usually impeccably neat hair hung in clumps, a few locks hanging over his forehead. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and instead of the power suit and neatly pressed shirt, he wore a wrinkled T-shirt, baggy sweat pants, and his feet were bare. Dark circles beneath his eyes contrasted the washed-out hue of his normally dark complexion.
And he was leaning on a cane.
Cindy struggled to breathe.
This was her fault. She had let her desire to spend time with him overshadow good sense.
His mouth drew into a tight line. “Yes?” he ground out between his teeth.
She tried to keep her expression blank and her attention riveted to his face instead of staring at the cane and the way he was leaning on it to support himself. She thought he’d be sore, but she hadn’t expected this.
Cindy sucked in a deep breath, stiffened her posture, and held out the bag containing the hamburger and fries, keeping the envelope with Robert’s contract tucked under her arm. “I brought you some lunch. And some work.”
He stared at the bag in her hands.
“There’s also been a slight change to Robert’s contract. I know this is important to you, and he needs it back by one o’clock.”
He turned around slowly, carefully supporting himself on the cane. Cindy’s heart nearly wrenched in two at the pitiful sight of him. He said nothing.
Her words came out in a rough mumble. “And I was worried about you. You didn’t return my calls.”
Stone-faced, he glared at her in silence.
Without asking his p
ermission to enter, she pushed the door open and squeezed past him. Being very careful not to brush against him for fear of knocking him over, she sat on his couch.
She couldn’t help but notice the size and elegance of the living room or the decor. She could see her footprints in the plush of the light gray carpet, which was the same color but a few shades darker than the gray wall. The sheer draperies were the exact color as the dark burgundy couch, as was the frame on one single piece of original artwork, which hung above a pristine gas fireplace. The furniture was all of a fine quality and obviously very expensive. The decorating was sparse, but masculine and well chosen. It suited him.
The contrast between her half-duplex and Monty’s apartment only accented the differences between them. His home spoke success. Hers shouted rummage sale.
She set the envelope on the coffee table and held out the bag toward him. The smell of the burger and fries wafted out. “Well? Aren’t you hungry?”
❧
Monty stood and stared. He’d wrestled with the decision to call Cindy back on Sunday, but he feared she would hear the strain in his voice and ask too many questions. When she phoned an hour ago, he’d nearly picked it up, desperately needing to hear her soothing voice, but he didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. Now he regretted his mistake. He’d never imagined that she would show up at his door unannounced.
He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, least of all Cindy. His condition after the accident was bad enough. He’d had no control over that or his limitations during the course of his slow recovery, but his condition today was nothing short of pathetic. The surgeon had warned him about starting slowly and taking it easy. Monty knew the doctor hadn’t meant it would be okay to hike the slow nature trail at the base of the mountain, but he hadn’t expected the hike to affect him this severely. He’d gambled and lost, and now he was going to suffer for it, and suffer badly.
He struggled to stay standing, but the strain of leaning on the cane to support himself using the arm that had been broken was taking its toll. Before his arm gave out, mustering as much dignity as he could, he slowly made his way to the love seat across the room from Cindy and dropped himself into it.
