The Orchid

by Robert Waggoner

  The next day, Lindsey repeated what she knew. “Apparently Mr. Jones has some relationship with the chess tournament in New York. Every year he has entered his Chess Club members in it and the best they’ve ever done is made it to the second round.”

  I held my information back to let her talk.

  “He told my parents that it didn’t matter about the school because it wasn’t school sponsored. He wanted to ask me last year but didn’t—can you guess why?”

  I could not.

  “Remember that one game I lost when my parents were fighting me about coming over here?”

  I nodded, remembering that awful time.

  “He was at that match and wasn’t impressed!” She giggled.

  I laughed with her, appreciating the irony as much as she did. I guess he did know, after all.

  “You’re going to have to study up, buster,” she said. “I need some real competition between now and April!”

  “I’m your man,” I said. “Let me tell you about Mr. Cletus Jones.” I could barely contain the excitement that ran through me. “He played against one of the greatest chess masters ever!” I hunched forward. “He fought William Tallish, the Irish tournament champion, to a draw. He lost but he is famous because they drew six times in that tournament. If Mr. Jones would have won, he’d have walked away with a purse of $100,000.”

  Lindsey looked impressed.

  “He gave up chess five years ago. At least, I guess he did. I haven’t found anything about him after that in my research.”

  “That makes sense then,” Lindsey mused. “He told my step dad that he was one of the organizers of the chess tournament in New York. He said he was going to look into getting a scholarship for me to go.” Her eyes shone.

  I took Lindsey to school each morning as usual even though I only went to the University on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. I hated dropping her off and then driving away. She rode home with Cindy or another friend on the three days I was at school or when I had to meet with Steve Singleton. Cindy had a sweet little Mustang her parents bought her and she was a good driver so I felt okay about it. Funny how possessive I was feeling these days—or maybe protective is a better word.

  Lindsey and I talked about me spending more time with her folks. I began making it a point to spend time in her house when we came home. It gave me a chance to talk to her mom and after a month or so, I began to feel better about our relationship. When her step dad got home though, I could feel the tension mount so I usually excused myself and went home.

  I wished there was something that I could do with her step dad that would bond us. Playing golf was out of the question and he apparently loved to play. He had a regular golf match a couple times a month. I watched a few weekend tournaments on the television so I knew who the good players were in case we ever talked about golf but it never came up. I guess he didn’t want to bring up a topic he figured I had no interest in and I didn’t bring it up because he didn’t. Stupid, I know.

  My parents stumbled across a domino type game called Spinner that was fun to play. When Lindsey came over we sometimes played a game in the kitchen before going up to do our homework or talk. I loved the interaction between my parents and Lindsey. My mom and dad really loved her and she knew it. She often told me how good she felt with my mom. Occasionally I reminded her of the awesome belch she did not knowing my mom was around. I loved it when she blushed!

  Lindsey finally suggested that we take the game of Spinner over to her house and see if her mom and dad would play it. I was dubious because they were not board game players. It would also mean a monumental shift in their attitude toward me; at least, that is what I thought.

  Lindsey made the offer to her parents and to my surprise and hers, they accepted without hesitation. I hoped it would not turn into something other than a friendly get together when I rolled across the yard to her house that night. Her mom made tea and snacks and we took first ten minutes to explain the game and play one hand. They caught on and we started to play.

  The game was fun and Lindsey won by thirty points. The lowest score was the winner because it meant you were not caught with high numbers in your hand when someone played their last cube.

  Lindsey’s mom suggested we retire the game and have cake and ice cream. I found her step dad unusually pleasant. I could tell Lindsey was encouraged by what she was feeling and she squeezed my shoulder as a signal that I was being a good boy.

  “How are you feeling, Jimmy?” Her step dad asked when everyone settled in to eat cake and ice cream.

  My suspicion was that this was an opening gambit for a discussion they wanted to have with us and I could feel my hands shaking slightly so I put them in my lap while I answered. “I’m feeling okay. My backside feels like ants are constantly crawling up and down on their way somewhere. I just wish they’d get there!”

  Her mom suppressed a giggle. “Sorry, Jimmy. You just describe things in very picturesque terms.”

  Mr. Anderson glanced at his wife. “So, you’re a junior in college. How do you like it?”

  Now Lindsey was suddenly nervous. It did not help my stomach any. “I like it. I’m in a pre-med program but I’m not planning to be a doctor. I want to do medical research.” I went on to explain about my mentorship and some of the research I was doing on my own. I fell short of mentioning Meckler’s Disease when I got Lindsey’s warning glance.

  “Medical research,” that is interesting. “What made you decide on that field?”

  I blushed and then said, “That time I got the blood clot. I decided to see if I could help other paraplegics…” I finished lamely.

  “A very noble cause,” Mr. Anderson said. I thought it might be a trifle condescending but I was not sure.

  The conversation rather petered out at that point. I thought it was going somewhere but that might have been my imagination. I was honestly relieved and I do not know why.

  We played six more times with the Andersons during that month. I felt much more comfortable with them but I could feel something unsaid. I wondered when it would come out and if I would be ready for it. But then again, maybe it was my imagination.

  The police came to school and interviewed Lindsey a week after Frank Thornton had accosted her on the way to the Library. They interviewed her in the Principal’s office. She learned during the interview that Frank had fled the school immediately after the incident and that the detectives were looking for him. That worried her but she did not let me know until the next day as I was driving her to school.

  “Keep your eye out for Frank Thornton,” Lindsey said when we were about halfway to the school. I was enjoying the day, happy about my blossoming relationship with her parents—because that would only help when I asked if Lindsey and I could get married.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The police asked me about the incident again yesterday at school. I guess they are looking for him for some reason. They wouldn’t tell me why, of course, except that he was wanted for something worse than truancy.” I could see the look in her eyes had shifted to worry. It altered my attitude.

  “Maybe because your parents filed charges?” I suggested.

  She looked at me. Something else was bothering her.

  “Lindsey, I don’t want to go to school now,” I said and pulled over to a safe area and stopped the car. “Damn! I wish Frank would just go away!”

  “I know.” She sat silent, watching me. Then she put a hand on my arm. “I’m not going to worry about it. I cannot let him control my happiness. Whatever happens do you remember what you said to me once?”

  I shook my head. I had no idea where she was going with that.

  “Someone might just be guiding us?”

  I was astonished. Lindsey, the girl who only talked with certainty about things she had researched was speaking in religious terms!

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she grinned. “I think higher thoughts sometimes. Do you remember when you were in the hospital? I went to the cha
pel to try to figure out how to deal with you…”

  That was an understatement! She always thought higher thoughts, if you asked me. I felt at peace suddenly. I started the car and pulled back onto the highway. All the way to school that morning, I just kept looking at her. She was no longer worried. She was the confident, beautiful Lindsey.

  Because of her confidence, I did not think about Frank all day. School occupied my attention and then therapy. After that, I had to meet with Steve for a mentoring session so when my phone buzzed at 4:30 that afternoon and I heard Lindsey’s voice I was amazed at how fast the day had gone.

  After greeting me, she said, “I just want you to know that I’m okay.” My heart lurched. I was wheeling across the parking lot at Steve’s office getting ready to leave. I pulled up beside my car and sat there with the warmth of the sun beating on my head. Sweat beads were forming on my body. “They caught Frank,” she said when I did not respond because my heart was in my throat and I could not.

  I could feel sweat trickling down my back and my legs felt funny, unusually funny but I ignored it. “What happened, Lindsey?” My voice was dry.

  “I’ll tell you when you get home. I just didn’t want you to worry, that’s all.”

  “Gee thanks! Now I’m worried. Lindsey, I can’t drive home! What happened?”

  “I can’t really talk right now. I’m still at the police station.”

  I felt like throwing up. “Was it Frank?” I asked feeling weak.

  “Yes, but everything’s okay.”

  I wanted to keep her on the phone while I drove home but I could not. I reluctantly closed the phone and put it in my pocket. I was in a nervous sweat by the time I got my wheelchair loaded onto the seat next to me and drove out of the parking lot. It would take me almost an hour to get home and it was going to be the longest hour of my life!

  I flipped the radio to the news channel. After twenty minutes of commercials—it seemed like—and ten minutes of Rush Limbaugh—the top of the hour news came on.

  “A high speed chase ended peacefully a few hours ago when a Cross-field High School student surrendered to police and released his female hostage, another student at the high school. We’ll have more details as they become available. The names of the suspect and his victim who are minors are being withheld by the Police.”

  I had to pull over. I felt like I was going to be dizzy. Cars whizzed past me at a thousand miles an hour while I tried to focus enough to drive home. When I arrived, Lindsey’s driveway was full of cars, reporters, and news cameras. I pulled in to my garage and shut the overhead door before I got out of the car.

  Lindsey was in the kitchen talking to my parents. Her parents were looking out the window at the circus across the yard. “We came the back way,” Lindsey said throwing her arms around me and hugging me. I held her so tight I thought she was going to protest but she did not. When I let her go, I begged her to tell me what happened.

  Lindsey’s parents and my parents had heard the story already but they listened with interest again. “At lunch I went to the library with Cindy. We kind of stick together since Frank did what he did a few weeks ago.” She glanced at me. When I nodded to show that I remembered he had accosted her by the library, she continued. “He parked his dad’s car in the parking lot just on the other side of the bushes that line the sidewalk. When Cindy and I walked by, he jumped out of the bushes, knocked Cindy down, and then grabbed me and threw me into the backseat. I was stunned because it happened so quickly.”

  Lindsey stopped to take a breath. “I didn’t even know it was Frank until I started to sit up to get out of the car. He jumped into the driver’s seat and put a gun in my face. ‘Get on the floor or I’ll blow your head off!’ he said. All I could see was a great big hole at first. He was slobbering and trembling and I could see his finger tightening on the trigger so I just did what he said.”

  Tears gushed and we had to wait. Her mom moved over, sat by her on the couch, and put her arms around her. After a minute she continued. “The car was a station wagon. He was so nervous he sideswiped a car and broke the glass. I felt it landing on my feet. I wanted to jump out and run but he didn’t even look, he just accelerated out of the parking lot and into traffic. I bet we were doing thirty miles an hour by the time we reached the street!”

  I could not stop trembling as I listened. I think her step dad saw that I was about to have a nervous breakdown and did something I will never forget. He got up, came over to where I was, and put a hand on my shoulder. Then he just stood there listening to the rest of Lindsey’s story.

  Cindy called the police. Frank had knocked her down when he grabbed Lindsey so she would not interfere. While he was squealing out of the parking lot with Lindsey in the back seat, Cindy was talking to the 911 operator. Within thirty seconds, she saw a police car speeding past the school. A few seconds later, every police car in town was screaming toward the freeway in hot pursuit.

  “I kept my head down and prayed,” Lindsey said. The car swayed like a boat and I got as small as I could get on the floor. I had no idea what he was going to do. I prayed that he wouldn’t commit suicide.” She smiled through her tears. “I suddenly felt calm. I sat up and began to talk to him. He was scared. The cops were everywhere. I said, ‘Frank, thanks for the ride, but you’re going in the wrong direction. I live on the other side of town.’ I could see the speedometer was eighty miles an hour.”

  Lindsey paused for a breath and a drink. “He just started to cry. He slowed down and pulled over and put his hands out the window crying.”

  Mr. Anderson squeezed my shoulder. “We spent most of the afternoon at the police station. I don’t think Frank is going to be bothering Lindsey anymore.”

  My mom offered drinks around and cookies. When Mrs. Anderson got up to help her, I took Lindsey’s hands. She looked at me. “I felt so calm, Jimmy. Remember what I said to you on the way to school?”

  I nodded, tears leaking.

  “It was as if a big arm just came down and went around my shoulders. I felt safe. I knew what to say. I meant it to be light-hearted and joking. When he broke down, cried, and pulled over I could not believe it. It didn’t last more than fifteen minutes.”

  When interviewed by the detectives, Frank said he did not want to hurt her. He had become the butt of jokes because Lindsey preferred someone in a wheelchair to him. He knew that Lindsey went to the Library at that time each day so he decided to talk some sense into her. He was sure she would not listen to him because he had already blown it with her so the only thing left was to make her listen to him. To do that, he had to get her away from her friends. He claimed he was in a mental fog until Lindsey’s calm words that he was going the wrong direction snapped him out of it. The double meaning hit him and made him realize that his whole life was heading the wrong direction. That is when he broke down and surrendered.

  After Lindsey and her parents snuck out the back door and went home, my mom and dad sat in the living room with me. “She’s one of the bravest people I know,” my dad said. He gave me an approving look. “She’s always been that way.”

  My dad did not say much but when he did, it was right to the point.

  Mom smiled.

  That night I lay in bed looking at the ceiling. “Thank you,” I said into the darkness. “Whoever you are, thanks.”

  Dr. Steve Singleton called with some exciting news. He had gotten a response to one of his hundred e-mails. The response was from a relative of Dr. Jeremiah Laird, the researcher who had written the Cataleya Orchid report. The relative was a brother who promised to do what he could to help. He told Steve that he had not heard from his brother in three months but that was not unusual. He was in Hawaii or at one of the islands doing research. Then he told Steve that their father had died of Meckler’s Disease.

  Steve called me right away. While he was talking, I suddenly remembered something that happened to me. I had noticed it while Lindsey was talking to me on the day of the kidnapping while I was in his parkin
g lot.

  “Steve, remember the day Lindsey was kidnapped?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My legs felt weird,” I said.

  He paused and then said dryly, “Describe weird.”

  “I felt pressure on my legs.”

  Steve got excited. “I want to see you right away!” He shouted it into the phone. “How soon can you get here?”

  “Steve, it’s been a week. Let me wait until our next mentoring session Tuesday,” I begged.

  “Okay, okay. I don’t have time today anyway.” He made me promise to come on Tuesday. I had never missed an appointment so his concern was excitement more than anything else.

  On Tuesday, I did not have classes at the University so we met at 9:00 in the morning. He was waiting impatiently. “I’ve got to test you!” He said. He led me into the exam room. He squeezed my leg just above the knee—the same place my dad used to when I was a kid. He always made me squirm because it hurt.

  “Can you feel this?” Steve asked.

  “When you squeeze hard, yes,” I said quietly and in shock. I’d been afraid to tempt fate by testing it myself.

  Steve tried a few other places lower down on my leg. I felt the pressure each time. “It’s really happening, Jimmy,” he said softly. “It’s really happening.”

  I could not wait to tell Lindsey.

  That night I told Lindsey what was happening in my legs and we talked until 10:00 p.m. before Lindsey noticed the time. She kissed me goodbye and dashed out the door. I hoped it would not hurt the new better relationship with her parents. I got ready for bed and lay there for a while thinking about what it could mean. My parents were excited. She was going to tell her parents. I felt happy.