by Ronda Pauley
“I can take you as far as the taxi station in the next city. That’s going to be a lot of money, miss!”
“OK, if you’ll take me that far, I think my father could meet me there. Is there a phone I could use?”
“Sure, but it’s not free. That call gets added in.”
Tina shrugged. Nothing was going to keep her from getting home.
“OK. You’ll get the money. I have to call.”
The taxi driver handed the phone to her.
“You’re travelling light. You OK?”
By now, Tina had learned to trust no one, especially no man. She gave him the same story she’d rehearsed, the story Miss Shoe made up. Tina asked about the next taxi station and how soon they would arrive.
She called her father’s number.
Please, God, let him pick up! She prayed.
The phone call went to voice mail. Tina had so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare with the driver overhearing every word. She simply said, “Hello!” Then she left instructions about when and where to pick her up and to tell the FBI that Miss Shoe had been kidnapped.
“Please be there,” she whispered.
“Thanks.” Tina handed the phone back to the driver. Then she prayed some more. The taxi driver gave her a strange look. Tina didn’t care. She leaned back in the seat to rest. She felt exhausted. As soon as her eyes closed and her body relaxed, tears started falling. Trying as hard as she could, she couldn’t stop them.
“Hey, miss! Here,” he said and handed her a box of tissues. “Go ahead. No charge.”
Tina took three.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just hate school.”
“Sure you do. I know that feeling,” the taxi driver said, as if he was just going along with her story. “Me, too, but I never cried about it. You’ll be O.K.”
Tina smiled. Leaning back again on the plush seat of the taxi, she allowed herself to rest and eventually fall asleep.
When the taxi came to a stop, Tina woke up. She saw her father and a small crowd of people at a taxi station in a small Texas town, a place that, before today, Tina had never known existed. Tina quickly reached into her bag and asked what she owed the driver.
She thanked him again and gave him a generous tip. He smiled at her and told her to stay safe. Before she finished paying, her father and a group of other people met her at the taxi.
Sobbing uncontrollably now, Tina rushed out to re-unite with her father.
TWELVE
Abbi straightened and tried to regain her composure, ready to interrogate. She wanted, needed, answers. More answers.
“So my dad’s a special agent. Hmm. Let me guess—FBI? What about Mom?”
“She is too. Undercover, mostly.”
“Does Lowell know about Mom?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he got the same text or one like it.”
Abbi thought about the funny look on Lowell’s face when he mentioned a kidnapped woman, before he hopped on his bike and rode away. He knew, alright.
Abbi went to the top of the basement stairs and opened the door. Before Lowell could stop to take a breath, Abbi yelled and raced down the stairs. Louise walked down right behind her.
“Lowell! You’ve got some talking to do! NOW!!!
“What?” Lowell came up the stairs and looked at Louise. “What just happened?”
Abbi stepped up into Lowell’s face and pushed the trumpet out of the way.
“You know stuff. The only reason you’re blowing that bugle is to keep from spilling,” she said.
She pushed Lowell who suddenly looked bewildered.
“Talk!” Abbi pushed him again.
“There’s more involved here than just you,” Lowell said. “If I were you, who I’m definitely not, but if I were, and I wanted to push people around like that, I’d get some training in self defense first, cause someone’s gonna push back.”
“Self defense. OK,” Abbi said. “Train me. But talk to me first!”
“Louise, what’s going on here?” Lowell asked.
“She knows I got a text. You did, too. What did yours say?”
“What about ‘information will be dispensed on an as-needed basis’?” Lowell asked.
Abbi pushed again, got even closer to Lowell’s face and yelled, “‘AS NEEDED’ is NOW!”
Again Lowell looked at Louise and then at Abbi.
“Think about it,” he said softly, taking a step back. “It’s not all about you. Sometimes there are things we can’t talk about, for everyone’s well-being.”
Then he turned to Louise and whispered, “Mrs. Hightower won’t go for this.”
“Lowell, Abbi’s grandmother is trying to reach her. She’s been calling,” Louise said.
Lowell’s eyes became wide, and he looked at Louise as if this was significant. He sort of shook his head, trying not to be noticed.
Abbi ignored the exchange.
“Come off your High Tower, Lowell! A little while ago you were so excited. What was that all about?” Abbi asked. “And I don’t care what Mrs. Hightower thinks any more than she cares about what I think. I don’t even know her. How’d I get so popular all of a sudden? You’ve kept all kinds of secrets from me! It’s time to talk to me!”
With a quick kick and a thrust of his hand at the door as a brief demonstration of his defense skills, Lowell brushed past Abbi and went to the stairs.
“We’ll talk later. First let’s try some self defense. If you pass, we’ll talk.”
Lowell showed her some moves. When Abbi mimicked Lowell’s movements, Louise looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Be careful,” Louise said.
“Louise, I’ll be careful but I need answers!”
She had her first 30-minute session with Lowell. When she finished, she tried out some moves on Louise.
“Don’t even start. I understand how you feel, but Lowell’s right. Your parents do this work, and it’s sometimes dangerous. They send you to live with us because they love you. They want you to live in a safer world,” Louise said. “Just let them do their job without messing things up. Relax. Let me braid your hair.”
“Girls, I need to run to the drugstore and get a few things. You’ll be OK until I get back? No strange visitors?” Lowell said as he went down the stairs. “Don’t go into my room. I like things just the way they are.”
“I wouldn’t touch your stuff,” Abbi said.
“Just don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be back soon and we’ll talk.”
Abbi started relaxing. She allowed Louise to braid her very curly hair as she sat on a kitchen chair.
The rhythm of braiding lulled Abbi into another time. Her thoughts turned to when she was younger. Nanny Fanny used to watch over her at home, braiding her hair just like this. It seemed like a simpler time.
Years ago, when Nanny Fanny had come to live with Abbi and her parents, the woman had been better than a hired nanny and much closer than the grandmother that Abbi couldn’t even remember. Nanny Fanny was like family.
On those times when Abbi’s parents had meetings, conventions, or other “shoe” business to do, Nanny would take Abbi on her lap, the very softness and gentleness of her overtaking and diminishing Abbi’s fears while braiding her hair.
The cooing voice had put to rest all the insecurities, whether she talked, told Abbi’s favorite stories, read books, or sang songs. Nanny Fanny--big, black, and beautiful--had always been there for her. She would sometimes take her on trips. One time, the two visited Washington, D.C.
Shortly after that trip, she stopped seeing Nanny Fanny regularly. No one explained why. She was just gone. Losing Nanny left a hole that Abbi couldn’t fill. Closeness made the separation that much harder. For awhile she came back for holidays. Before long, Nanny was gone. No answers, just gone. Abbi thought she must have died. Her parents must have tried to protect Abbi from that fact, like they’d tried to protect her from life itself.
The thought of Nanny Fanny in her flowing robes made A
bbi smile, but she quickly dismissed it. The woman left, without a word, and without a forwarding address.
“OK,” Louise said as she handed Abbi a hand mirror. “Take a look at your hair!”
Abbi smiled as she admired the braids.
“Thanks, Louise. I feel better already. It takes me back to being a little girl.”
The landline rang. Louise picked up.
“It’s your grandmother again. She wants to see you.”
Abbi put her head down on the table and looked wide-eyed at Louise.
“NO! No, no, no, no, NO! Huh-uh!” she shouted.
“Abbi, your parents might not be coming back,” Louise said quietly as she handed her the phone. “Take the call.”
Suddenly, long-held feelings of intense dislike welled inside her, making Abbi’s face feel hot to the touch. She raised her head and said quietly, “My grandmother hates me. I’m not going to talk to her, not now, not EVER!”
THIRTEEN
Louise hung up the phone. Abbi went upstairs and said she would refuse any calls from her grandmother. She climbed up into her bunk and stared out the window for just a minute. Then she realized she gained nothing if she didn’t study the folders.
When Abbi came downstairs, she found Louise sitting on the arm of the couch waiting for her, a worried look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Abbi asked, looking straight ahead. Her emotions had been all over the place lately but taking her anger out on Louise, not good.
“It’s OK, Abbi. Just call your grandmother. Seriously. That’s all I can say.”
“Maybe my parents aren’t coming back. Everyone says, ‘Information will be given on an as-needed basis’. Not true. I need information now! But no, I’m not going to talk to my grandmother.”
“You wanted answers. She knows things you don’t know, things we don’t know,” Louise said. “She can give you information.”
“What? What information? We can’t trust her,”Abbi said, although the words were hard to get out, especially with the lump in Abbi’s throat.
Louise moved over toward Abbi.
“She cares, Abbi.”
“She doesn’t care. Not about my dad and not about me.”
“We’re in this thing together, you know,” Louise said. “Just trust me.”
The two girls hugged and did their secret fistbump, a complicated little maneuver.
“Thanks!” Abbi said with a laugh. “But my grandmother can’t do anything.”
“There are things you should know, Abbi,” Louise said quietly.
“And things you should know! She hated my father and wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t want her in my life. Besides, I thought she was dead.”
“None of that’s true,” Louise said. “She gave me her number. It’s urgent.”
Abbi got up and went back toward the stairs, not wanting to show her tears.
“That woman made her decision a long time ago. You know who I need to talk to? Mr. Agent-Man!”
“Abbi, you’re not thinking straight! She can tell you things you really need to hear! Things I can’t tell you. Things Mr. Agent Man probably can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t. About Fred’s Boots?” Abbi asked with sarcasm. “That’s the person I need to call.”
Abbi picked up the phone and dialed.
Shoe Clerk’s voice mail picked up. As bad as she hated to, Abbi left a message.
“I thought you’d be calling by now, or do I know more than you do?” Abbi asked. “Where’s my mother? Who has her? And someone broke into my house today. Someone is following me. What’s that is all about?”
Within minutes, Shoe Clerk called back. Abbi started in again.
“Slow down, Abbi,” Shoe Clerk said. “There are things in the works. As soon as the pieces start to fit together, you’ll see it.”
“Who has my mother and where is she?”
“Give me a little time. Someone is trying to reach you.”
“I know! The thugs who broke into my house!”
“Someone else. Don’t worry. We’re on it,” Shoe Clerk said.
“Really? I was just there and didn’t see anyone. You sure you were at the right house? Meriweather Lane?”
“We’re not miracle workers. These things take time. The police have been there already. And why were you there?”
“I’m trying to find a miracle worker who can get my mother back. OK?”
“Abbi, we’ll get it done. You know I told you to talk to no one?”
“That’s what I’ve been doing. Talking to no one,” Abbi said. Her eyes rolled around. Still no answers. “I went home. I didn’t talk to anyone except the chicks and the guinea hen.” So she was being watched! “That was you watching me!”
There was some hesitation before Shoe Clerk spoke again.
“Talk to the next person who calls you.”
“How will I know it’s the real thing?”
“Ask her how she knows you and what your real name is. That will be the code. Then you’ll know.”
“Thanks, Shoe Clerk! Please help make something happen.”
“That’s what we’re doing.”
Louise handed Abbi a cookie when she was off the phone.
“Answers?”
“He wants me to talk to someone. I don’t even know who.”
Abbi turned away from Louise and munched on the cookie.
“Thanks! This is good. I just need to think for a little bit,” she said.
Abbi’s feet felt heavy as she walked up the stairs and went back upstairs to the bedroom. She no longer had an urge to dance. That desire was replaced by the compelling drive to get some answers.
Lately there were times when she thought she was being watched. Not by Shoe Clerk but by her mother. In spirit. So real she could almost reach out and touch her. This was one of those times. She felt comfort in believing that someone watched over her in her time of need, guiding her, loving her. She knew she had been blessed with a gift, not cursed with an evil obsession. And she began to trust in the gift, finally, but she still didn’t understand how it worked. If a person’s spirit left their body, wouldn’t it seem the body was near death? Or can you just wish yourself to be close to someone and fly there as if in a dream? Could she be there with her mother or father just by willing her spirit there?
“Mom, Dad, somehow I will find you!” she said as she climbed into her bunk to rest from a long, stressful day, a day that wasn’t yet over.
FOURTEEN
Tina and her father had made their move quickly, packing light and then suddenly flying to the east coast. It felt so unbelievably good for Tina to be with her father again, even in this bizarre situation. Still, attempts to talk to him were awkward.
“Daddy,” she said, as she enjoyed the flight. “Look out this window! It’s like a quilt down there! Like Momma’s quilt.”
She knew her father brought the only quilt her mother had ever made. She wondered if he had brought pictures.
“It’s nice, Maria, er, Tina. Sorry. This is hard. Probably for you, too.”
Tina sensed that he was choking up.
“We’re together. We’ll be O.K.,” she said, determined to create a new home, a new life with him. “You can call me ‘Kid’, if it’s easier. It’s easier for me because I call you ‘Dad’ and ‘Daddy’. ”
Her father was a policeman. The job skills and street knowledge had helped him assist the FBI in finding her. Now he had suddenly been relocated. Having a new identity was an adjustment he would struggle to get used to. He would be starting a desk job, very different but safer than his street beat.
Tina and her father talked very little for the remainder of the flight. They took a taxi to their apartment.
After they arrived, her father went straight to the police station to meet people he would work with and to get situated at the desk that would soon be his. He left before unpacking or picking up little necessities.
Tina, alone, looked around. There was v
ery little to unpack for herself or her father. Nothing of Tina’s former life as Maria could be brought with her, although she smuggled one stuffed animal, Pooky Bear. She looked forward to relaxing now, hoping to peel off the layers of filth and guilt like an onion, but first there was something she had to do, something Miss Shoe had stressed as urgent.
The apartment, unfurnished except for a cozy little dining set in the kitchen, was small but had a balcony with enough room to grill out, something Tina looked forward to. The freedom and fun of cooking her own food! Right now there was no food in the apartment. She had eaten a sandwich at the airport but her stomach needed more.
“There’s already a landline here,” her father had said before he left. “Call me if you need anything.”
I need a lot of things, Tina wanted to say. I gotta have food. That would be a good start. And there’s nothing here! Where am I supposed to sleep?
It would be getting dark earlier because of the time change. That would be another adjustment for awhile. Tina decided to take off on her own to get some food and the help she needed before the sky turned completely dark.
She studied the address Miss Shoe had given her and called the taxi company to find out how far she would have to travel. It sounded like a walkable distance but it could be a long walk in unfamiliar or unsafe surroundings. She decided to use some of Miss Shoe’s money to get a taxi, find some food and get to that address. Maybe she would walk back.
Tina arranged for the taxi. Although she didn’t trust anyone to drive her, she tried hard not to be afraid. Miss Shoe wanted her to get to the address she’d been given. She picked up her apartment key and took out the notepad from inside her handbag. Before the taxi pulled up, Tina wrote a note for her father explaining what she was doing.
Tina gave the driver the address and said, “I want the safest walking route so that I can walk back on my own. You can just drop me off at the nearest corner. I’ll find the place.”
“Sure,” the driver said. He started up the street.
Using her notepad, Tina methodically wrote down the street names and all the turns. Before long, the taxi pulled up and let her out near a street corner.
