Jordan didn’t know how long he slept, but when he awoke, the only one in the bed with him was a small black and white cat. He dressed and went downstairs. Cate, now fully dressed, was busy in the kitchen. She smiled sweetly when she saw him and motioned for him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs.
“I’ve made us some pasta for lunch,” she said as she handed him a plate of spaghetti with a rich red sauce and a slice of garlic bread.
“I’m starving, and it looks delicious. Thanks,” he said, placing his full plate on the kitchen table.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Actually, Cate, a soda would be great.”
“I’m from the Midwest. We have pop, but not soda,” she answered with a mischievous grin.
Jordan broke out laughing. “Pop, soda! I guess you must feel we’re becoming too nice to each other, out of character.” He rose, walked over to her, and pulling her to him, kissed her on the neck while his hand moved up the back of her sweater. He inhaled the aroma of flowers on her long smooth neck. He tried to pinpoint her perfume choice, with no luck, and realized there were so many things he had to learn about her. His mind was already making that detailed list the FBI taught him to make, the one he tended to use on everyone out of sheer habit.
Her manner now was easy and flirtatious as she opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of green grapes. She plucked one from the bunch and plopped it into his mouth. He held her hand, and they stood silent for a few seconds, until Cate laughed and broke away.
She served the lunch and drinks, and they settled down to dining and talking about their past, present, and future.
Jordan grinned as he asked Cate, “So, my dear, I picture you as a Jewish princess, catered to by your quiet, easy-going, adoring parents, something like the famous Kate from Taming of the Shrew.”
Instead of getting angry, Cate took a large sip of white wine straight from the bottle before she countered with, “Nice picture. But don’t ever think you can tame me. Better men than you have tried.”
Jordan leaned forward and rested his chin on his arm. “Tame you? I would never do that. I would, however, guess that while I was squeezed into a tiny flat, sharing a room with two siblings in the Bronx, working my ass off to get into Harvard, you probably had your own room in a massive, luxurious house, sailing through school on brains, wit, and connections.”
Cate grinned at his words. Yes, she had a much more privileged life than Jordan. She was an only child, and her dad was a doctor, and her mom, though a nurse, was a stay-at-home mom, and her grandmother had connections with a famous federal judge, but she wasn’t going to tell him all that now.
Instead, she answered, smiling, “And it’s such a fine ass too. But no one gets into Harvard and London’s esteemed law school without brains, Mister Gould, so, um, let’s talk about something else.”
”Speaking of fine asses,” Jordan got up and moved toward her. Sliding his hand down her spine and cupping her rear end, he whispered in her ear, “Besides that stunning little heart-shaped birthmark on your spine, I love your sharp wit.”
“That’s not where I keep my wit.”
“No? Is it… here?” Jordan slipped his hand down the front of Cate’s pants and smiled as he found her panties rather damp.
“Uh, THAT’s not where I keep my wit, either,” Cate said, smiling, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Hmm,” Jordan said, kissing her neck, “We’ll have to do more exploring, then.”
The spell was broken when the fire alarm went off and smoke poured out of the stove. Jordan turned the stove off, recovered the burnt piece of garlic bread, and opened a window as Cate reached for the phone and dialed the alarm company before the fire department appeared.
They opened a few windows and settled down on the sofa in the living room, congratulating each other for working together so well. Tigger hopped onto the window ledge and curled up before the screened window, welcoming the fresh air.
Soon, they settled into a normal conversation. Cate told him about her job offer with Federal Judge Pierce in D.C., who actually was a relative of her grandmother’s best friend, Rain. He told her it would be a great opportunity for her and a chance for them to get to know each other better. He envied her connections to a federal judge, something he never had. They discussed his ambitions in the FBI, the differences between the British and American legal system, and his doubts about the murder case being solved.
They discovered that they had much in common besides their love of competition and sarcasm. They were runners, tennis players, game players, Harvard graduates, and Jewish lawyers. Once they discovered that they differed on politics, they quickly dropped the subject.
He insisted on helping her clean the kitchen, saying, “My mom worked, and we had to do chores. I would disappoint her if I left you with this mess.”
Jordan left early that evening, knowing he would be heading for the States in two days and she would be following in two weeks. Before going, he held Cate close to him, once more exploring every part of her mouth as he gave her a kiss goodbye. Cate reluctantly shut the door slowly as he left. Neither of them wanted their night to end.
Jordan grinned the smile of a Cheshire Cat as he turned the key in his car. That Cate is something else, self-possessed, someone he will never own. But what fun he will have trying!
***
Feeling like a high-school girl with a crush, Cate moved upstairs, taking two steps at a time, and settled under her nice warm comforter, smelling her sheets to breathe in the scent of their lovemaking. Tigger followed Cate onto the bed, only now instead of sleeping at the foot of the bed, she occupied Joseph’s former spot.
The next morning Cate woke up with a smile on her face. She lay in bed thinking about Jordan. She asked herself, Why had I tried so hard to hate him? They really fit together so well, physically and personality-wise. They were both smart, aggressive, ambitious, and fun-loving. She now allowed herself to admit that when she had accepted the job in D.C. with Judge Pierce, she was thinking of Jordan working there.
She made it to the bathroom, stepping over boxes, thinking, Lots of work to do before picking up Gram. Joseph had already moved back to his father’s flat in town, which made things easier. Poor Joseph. He was such a good person, but as hard as she tried, she was never in love with him. Last night, things were so different with Jordan; there was chemistry there that was missing with Joseph. She wanted to do things to Jordan to get him excited, to make him crazy with desire; with Joseph, sex was nice, but… It seemed so proper, so obliging. Sex with Joseph was like coloring within the lines; sex with Jordan was like using a different medium altogether.
She stepped out of the shower, still daydreaming. She told herself to settle down and start working. Her flight back home to Chicago was only two weeks away, and her job in D.C. was to start in three weeks.
Chapter 24
Lori sat in the garden of Lyon's Rehab. The facility was an old country white stone building located in Chelsea with a beautiful English garden full of petunias, four-o’clocks, marigolds, hollyhocks, and an interesting footpath along a meandering stream. Two ducks with heads tucked under their wings slept while another one swam aimlessly. A wind rippled the water’s surface, but the sleeping ducks didn’t stir, making Lori believe they were the older ones.
Lori was so happy to be out of the hospital. She hated hospitals. Every time she was forced to step into one, her eyes only saw pain and death, particularly the death from leukemia of a beautiful young teenage girl. She avoided the word cancer and hospitals like the plague, just as she avoided comparing Cate and Julie, even though they had many similarities. Both smart, beautiful, witty, and feisty. Stupid of her, but she had been so relieved when Barry passed seventeen and then Cate passed seventeen, the age Julie died.
Lyon’s Rehab was perfect for Lori now. She spent her days resting, eating, reading, and going to physical and emotional therapy. Her room and adjoining bathroom were decorated in old coun
try English with toile-patterned wallpaper, oak dressers, wicker chairs, painted English plates, and flowers everywhere.
One day, while resting in her new favorite spot, the sun parlor, a heavyset, dark-haired woman dropped her newspaper in her ample lap, turned to Lori, and asked, “Have you been following the Wheeler Case?”
Lori was about to get up and escape from the question when she glanced down at the paper. Today, the London Times article wasn’t about Roland and the kidnapping or about the money lost to hundreds of investors; today’s article was accompanied by a picture of a young high school football hero. Right there in the paper was a picture of the Josh Wheeler a young, naïve Lori Brill was once in love with.
“Not a bad looker,” the woman stated, glancing back at her paper, then up at Lori.
Lori smiled, remembering the tall, blue-eyed, blond, muscular boy she knew. God, she thought, he put me through hell and heaven in those four years of high school. She was his, but he wasn’t hers. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she loved him. There, in the restorative warmth of the sun parlor, Lori recalled with painful accuracy the nights she cried her heart out because he didn’t call or show up for the date he made with her, or how she had refused to listen when friends spotted him with other girls, because he always came back.
When Josh came back to her, life was wonderful. She could fly through the air like a bird when he twirled her around the dance floor, with her petticoats and skirts swishing back and forth, and everyone in the room watching them.
”Tea or coffee?" the server in the parlor room asked.
It jolted Lori back to the present. “Yes, please. Black coffee…" she started to say, then asked for some warm milk with it; she remembered Josh always drank his coffee with warm milk and a cigarette. She could picture him taking a gulp of coffee and then a deep drag on his Chesterfield cigarette. He was the one who taught her how to smoke, back when the world thought it was so cool and grown up to smoke. Who knew?
The woman with the newspaper said, more to herself now that she realized Lori was not engaging her in conversation, “They say he was so charming that he could sell sand to an Arab in the desert, and make him believe he needed it!”
Lori stared at the paper in the woman’s hand for a moment or two, thinking, yes, he could sell you anything. He charmed her into taking him back after fucking who knows how many high school girls; he charmed her out of her virginity at the age of eighteen, telling her she was the love of his life and they would always be together. Then he went off to college and disappeared. Only Adele knew how she almost killed herself when she thought she was pregnant. Thank God it was a false alarm.
A melancholy bitterness overcame her as she recalled their breakup; it was more like abandonment. She raised her coffee cup to her lips and took a sip of the warm liquid.
After her senior prom and their first night together at the Drake Hotel, Josh had flown back to Washington D.C., where he was attending college. She was floating on cloud nine until weeks and then months passed by without a word from him. Her letters and phone calls went unanswered. Finally, when he came home for Thanksgiving, she confronted him.
Shaking like a leaf, she had walked down the block and knocked on his front door. When he opened it, he was all charm, hugging her like a found puppy. “Lori!” He smiled that charmer’s smile.
Then she accused him, “Josh, why haven’t you called or written? I’ve been frantic with worry! I called your parents, they said they heard from you, but—” Lori could not fight the tears flowing down her cheeks.
He’d moved away from her and responded, “Lori, I’ve been busy. School and studying. You know how it is, kiddo. But you do know how much I treasure our friendship.” As he turned to her, his eyes twinkled and he kept that brilliant smile plastered on his tan face.
Lori had cried out, “Friendship?! What the hell are you talking about, Josh? We’re friends now? You told me you loved me, Josh! You told me that we would always be together. I believed we would get married. What about our night at the Drake? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You left and never got back in touch with me! I gave up my virginity for you, Josh!”
His voice turned to ice as he gazed down at her, his smile gone; darkness had doused the light in his eyes.
“Jeeze Louise with the virginity thing again. Get over it. What is the big fucking deal, Lori? What’s with you? Did you really believe me that we were gonna get married? I’m in college! Jeeze. You’re nothing but a kid.” He tousled her hair and smirked dismissively. “Go home.”
He’d turned away from Lori and walked up the stairs. She’d run home in tears and shame.
Yes, Josh could be charming and he could also be cruel. She must remember that, too.
Several people gathered around the paper. A stooping, bald-headed elderly man using a walker pointed at Lori and then at the picture. “I say, aren’t you the Brill woman? Here, now, you seem to be a lovely lady. Why ever were you with that Wheeler bloke?”
Lori set her coffee cup down at a nearby table and rose from her chair, grabbing a hold of her silver walker that now accompanied her everywhere. She had had enough.
Before exiting the room, she turned to the old man and said, “Because fifty years later, I still believed him.”
Lori's therapist Cassie, an Irish lass with emerald green eyes and ginger red hair, had the task of helping Lori deal with the murder of Josh and her kidnapping, a difficult task to accomplish in the few weeks Lori was scheduled to stay in the facility. They met for an hour daily. It took several sessions with Cassie, but slowly, Lori managed to pull herself together and begin the emotional healing
"Lori, I'm so pleased with your progress. I even heard your appetite has returned."
"Hell, Cassie, anything would be better than that awful hospital food. I especially enjoy tea time here with those great sandwiches and cakes."
"I see you've exchanged your walker for a cane today. By the end of your stay they will have you running in races."
"I doubt that. It's Joan who has encouraged all of us. She is a victim of multiple sclerosis at the young age of thirty-nine. Instead of giving up or being discouraged, she works like a dog at moving, and she pushes the rest of us. I so admire her."
"She is so full of life with all her problems. You know she's been here almost a year," Cassie said as she walked Lori out of the office. Lori meandered into the rec room where a bingo game was in session.
Joan approached her. “Lori, you are too beautiful a woman to let yourself go. I’m going to schedule you an appointment with the beauty salon.”
Lori hesitated. “Thanks, but I’m not ready for that.”
Joan smiled. “Rubbish, you’ll feel so much better when you look better.”
Joan was right, Lori realized, after looking at herself in the beauty shop mirror. Yes, her whole being looked and felt better with a new haircut, some makeup, and soft hands with painted pink nails.
***
In the physical rehab room, Joan slowly maneuvered her legs by the use of hand braces. Though her movements were painful, she did not show it. On her face was a big smile, and her voice had a cheerful lilt to it.
“Good morning, everyone!” Joan called out. “Guess what? I was visited by a good fairy last night, and he told me we were all going to walk out of here straight and tall and happy!” Then she leaned on the chair and pointed one brace around the room. “That means you, Lori, and you, Nadine, and you, Jean. In addition, of course, me, so let’s get to work! We can’t disappoint my good fairy.”
They all laughed and started to work with their physical therapists. When movement became too painful for Lori, she looked over to Joan for inspiration and courage.
Lori had awakened this morning terrified. She had a nightmare where she was back in the barn struggling to get away, but she was chained to something and couldn't move. She woke up with a jolt. Sweat was pouring down her face like she had really been in a struggle. It took her awhile before she was abl
e to calm down, shower and dress.
She decided to stay away from dealing with the kidnapping in therapy. Too many narrow death misses for her to confront now. Instead, during her sessions with Cassie, Lori spoke extensively about Julie, about their constant clashes until the age of fourteen when Julie was diagnosed with leukemia, and about the family banding together in a fight to keep her alive. They lost the battle, and Julie died almost thirty years ago.
Cassie asked Lori, “How did the death of your daughter change your life? And did it prepare you to handle the kidnapping?”
Lori stopped and looked away for a while. “Cassie, my daughter came down with leukemia when I was in my late thirties, a time when one feels one can overcome everything and conquer the world. Most people, while scared of death, never really believe it will happen to them or their family until they are old. Parents are supposed to die before their children.”
“You asked how it changed my life. I became a different person, a person with a permanent hole in my heart, a person with part of her mind shut down, a person who was again afraid to let love come in. Cate’s birth provided the only healing spot in my life.”
“How did it help me deal with the kidnapping? After you have lost a child, nothing really touches you deeply, or totally surprises you. You have either gone crazy, or let your heart turn hard.” Lori turned towards Cassie and smiled. “Growing up, I hated my mother because she was cold and unloving towards me. Later, I learned in her former life in Germany she had lost a son in the concentration camps.”
“Did you forgive her then?” Cassie asked.
“The adult Lori did, but the child Lori couldn’t.”
Cassie stopped cold. “Lori, that one sentence covered a year of my schooling. I think you have done especially well, considering what you have gone through. My job was to help you deal with the kidnapping, but we’ve hardly touched on it.”
“I remember reading Elizabeth Kübler Ross’s book about the stages of death. During the kidnapping, I never once thought I was going to die. I kept thinking, how did my mother and daughter tolerate the pain and fear? I guess I was in denial, or finally traveling in their shoes.”
Murder Across The Ocean Page 18
