The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  Nothing. Sgt. Owens said nothing to that. He only nodded. “I’m lost as to what to tell you. Maybe Sgt. Ryder can assist. I believe he knows the code.”

  “Great. Can you tell him I need to see him when you see him?”

  “Um . . . yes.” Sgt. Owens smiled. “I’ll look for him on the way to the school.” He checked out the time. “Sir, class begins in twenty minutes.”

  “O.K.”

  “You have to teach.”

  “Me?” Frank laughed. “Teach what?”

  “I believe you are to teach Shakespearean Drama.”

  “Oh, good. I thought it would be something hard like math. Piece of cake.” Frank gave a wave of his hand then returned to the phone.

  Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-buzz.

  “Fuck.”

  “Piece of cake? Shakespearean drama?”

  “Yeah, I saw Mel Gibson’s Hamlet. Cool movie.” Frank bit his bottom lip as he continued to try the phone.

  Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-buzz.

  “Fuck.” He set it down. “Can you get Ryder?”

  “Yes.” Sgt. Owens held back a snicker of amusement. “Right away.” He walked to the door and stopped in the archway. He hurriedly looked back. “You wanted to be warned. Dr. Hayes is coming, the female Dr. Hayes.”

  “Shit. Thanks.” Frank rushed to the door.

  Ellen waltzed down the hall in her own world. She smiled at Sgt. Owens as he passed her. “Hi,” she said and kept walking. The second she reached the office door, it slammed closed. “Hey.” She tried the knob. “Frank?” She knocked. “Let me in.”

  “On one condition,” Frank said from the other side.

  “What’s that?”

  “You won’t laugh.”

  “At?”

  A slight hesitation, then Frank opened the door. “This.”

  Ellen shrieked.

  “See.” Frank closed the door.

  “Oh, my God.” Ellen covered her mouth.

  “I told you not to laugh.”

  Staring, Ellen’s hand slid from her face. “I’m not. Really, I’m not. Whoa.”

  “Whoa?”

  Ellen giggled then with a widening of her eyes, she nodded and stepped to him. “Whoa.” Her hand reached out and ran down his chest that sported the standard officer’s uniform shirt.

  “Took me twenty fuckin minutes to get these buttons right.” Frank’s eyes shifted to her hand. Ellen was no longer just touching. She was feeling. He smiled.

  “You look so good, Frank.”

  “No, don’t . . .” He winced when she stepped back.

  With her arms folded, Ellen cased him up and down. “You don’t like the uniform?”

  “I didn’t. Well, I still don’t like the pants. They’re smashing my balls.” He pulled at the crotch.

  With a laugh, Ellen stepped back into him. “The fashion boot thing works for you.”

  “Now, I know you’re kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not. Frank . . .” she stated his name. “How long have you known me? What was my and Hal’s favorite movie?”

  “I don’t know . . .” Frank hem-hawed.

  “Frank.”

  “Um, seeing it’s Hal, Gone With the Wind.” He laughed when she grunted. “I’m joking.”

  Ellen moved closer to Frank. She softened her voice. “Are you uh . . .” She brought her finger to her lip. “Gonna wear this little outfit tonight?”

  “You want me to?”

  “It could work in your favor.”

  “I’m wearing it.” He cleared his throat when Ellen, with her eyes locked on him, stood toe to toe, body to body. He wanted to laugh. In oddness, he peered down. “What are you doing?”

  “You look really good.”

  “El, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were coming on to me.”

  “I am.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Frank pulled her into him and crouched down some to be at her level. He tilted his head and stopped. “No.”

  “I hate you,” Ellen grunted. “Don’t even tell me it’s Dean again.”

  “No, El. It’s these fuckin buttons and uniform. I have to teach in less time than it takes me to get dressed. But . . .” He winked. “You know what?” He snickered ornery. “When, not if, when we’re back together, you know, completely, we should have sex on Hal’s desk. He’d be so pissed.”

  “You would tell him?”

  “Fuck, yeah.” He looked down at his watch. “I have to go teach. Wanna come?”

  “No. I’d love to but I have patients to see and . . . I have to get blood from Elliott and make him spit in a cup.”

  “Oh. O.K. I’ll stop and see you later.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Walk out with me?”

  “Sure.” Ellen took a step. “Hey, Frank? Can you put on the bandana?”

  “Does it give me brownie points for tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Frank pulled out the bandana from his back pocket, flapped it open, and then stuck it on. “Well?”

  Ellen grinned with a thumbs up.

  “Let’s go.” He laid his hand on her back. “You know, El, aside from the uniform being too tight . . .” He stopped to pull at the crotch of his trousers. “I could get used to this leadership thing.”

  “You should put in for Joe’s replacement when he retires,” Ellen spoke seriously.

  “You think? Me?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “But, El, people think I’m dumb.”

  “Frank, all kidding aside, when you put your mind to something, you can do it. You’re a great leader. You come by it honestly. Hell . . . if this country needed a president, I can see you being it.”

  “El . . . come on.” He shrugged in an embarrassed way. “Now I know you’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Think about it. Me? President? I can be the leader of a country. A president is pushing it.”

  Ellen hesitated in her walk. She looked up at Frank. She didn’t want to say anything, but maybe he had a valid point.

  ^^^^

  It was tiresome for John whenever Johnny would show up where he was. In the middle of the day with really nothing new to say, John was actually getting bored with fighting and arguing.

  “John,” Johnny spoke out snidely, his voice echoing into the empty chapel. “Just the man I was looking for.”

  With a grunt and a turn of a screwdriver, John looked from the pew he was securing to the floor. “If you made some friends around Beginnings, you wouldn’t have to leech onto me.”

  “Funny. We need to talk.”

  “When don’t we?”

  “Shut up and listen.”

  Figuring, he wasn’t going to get his work done with Johnny there anyhow, John rose to his feet. “What?”

  “The Bev murder investigation will be over soon.”

  John chuckled. “You’re nuts. They aren’t even close. They don’t want to be close.”

  “I am. I know who killed her and they go down today, literally. If not, I can bring them down another way.”

  “What makes you think you know the killer and your grandfather doesn’t?”

  “I have proof.”

  “All of the sudden you have proof?” John laughed. “That sounds awfully convenient. Maybe this person is on to you and they’re just setting you up to see what you do.”

  Johnny fluttered his lips in sarcasm. “Hardly. Now the reason that I’m here.”

  “There’s another reason? Wow. Here I thought it was to share the demented results of your own Nancy Drew Mystery.”

  “Who?”

  John rolled his eyes.

  “Here.” Johnny handed him an envelope.

  “What is this?”

  “Your job. I need you to finish it off.”

  John tried to hand it back, but Johnny wouldn’t take it. “I’m not helping.”

  “Really? I would think you’d want to do this. It has to do with someone else doing dirty work. See, there’s someone in Beginnings w
ho can help us. That info in that envelope is their downfall. They help us . . .” Johnny shrugged. “Or they go down. You get them to help us. That’s your job. I already started it for you. He has a copy of that.” He stepped back. “Try to secure him by the week’s end.”

  Holding the envelope, John watched Johnny leave. Another victim of Society circumstance in Beginnings? John’s curiosity piqued. If a person in Beginnings was being blackmailed into helping, then surely this person would want to help John, in his task of bringing down Johnny Slagel.

  ^^^^

  New Bowman, Montana

  Cold and flu season was certainly off to an early start in Bowman and Ellen had poof. She couldn’t recall doing so many throat cultures in one day since Robbie, four years earlier, started the rumor that a deadly form of strep throat was going around. Panic hit Beginnings all because Robbie didn’t feel like harvesting at the greenhouse.

  Ellen could hear Dean whine when he saw how many tests he had to do. She knew him well and figured he was going to take the lazy route, mark them all positive for strep. and hit everyone with antibiotics. Ellen paused in her work when she heard the rattling cough before she heard the voice.

  “Dr. Hayes,” Elliott said her name as he walked in.

  Logging in her throat cultures, Ellen shook her head, ‘Oh, he just thinks I’ll get pissed because he went back to being formal. What a childish game.’ she thought.

  “Dr. Hayes,” he called again.

  “One sec . . . Sgt. Ryder.” Ellen marked down the last one then turned around. “Now what . . .” She froze when she saw him and she whispered his name in concern without control. “Elliott.” She walked to him. He was pale, too pale for Ellen’s liking.

  “How are you?” e asked.

  “Good.” She reached for his neck. “You’re warm.”

  “I have a little cold. I received word you wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, I’m admitting you tonight in the clinic here.”

  “What?” Elliott asked with a laugh. “What for?”

  “Dean wants you hit with some antibiotics.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good, but you’re warm. That’s a sign of infection. Let’s fight it before it wears you down. Plus . . .” She walked over to her tray of supplies. “I need blood.” She pulled some tubes out. “Dean says you have a cough. I heard you so I’m gonna need you to produce a sputum sample for me.” She picked up a small cup. “Dean wants to examine it for . . .” She turned, holding the specimen cup. Elliott was gone. “Shit.”

  “Hold it!” Ellen blasted out just as she saw Elliott reach for the door of the school. “Just . . .” She trotted his way, ignoring the wince she saw him do. “Hold it.”

  “I need to get in there.”

  “I need my samples.” She grasped his hand that reached for the door. “Elliott, I am serious.”

  “I am not spitting in a cup. Tough.”

  Ellen placed her hands on her hips. “You will. I’ll have you know this is the first time I have ever chased someone down for phlegm.”

  A look of disgust hit Elliott. He flung open the door and walked in the school.

  “Elliott,” Ellen called out in a soft way. “Please, stop.”

  “Dr. Hayes . . .” Elliott grunted from the smack to his stomach.

  “Stop that. You know my name.”

  “Ellen.” He had a slight smile. “I am fine. It’s just a cold. Are you running around with a sputum cup for every man in this town who is ill?”

  “No.”

  “Argument over.”

  “Argument over? Oh, I don’t think so, Elliott. I’m not chasing every man around Bowman because they aren’t you.” She walked closer to him. “Your immunities are way down, like it or not. We need you strong. A common cold will beat you if you don’t stay ahead of it. Now . . . I’ll forget the spit.” She chuckled at Elliott’s cringe. “If you agree to let me hook you up to an IV for a good dose of antibiotics.”

  “I’ll agree to that if . . .” He held up his finger. “We stop this back and forth and you allow me to go assist Frank in his teaching of Shakespeare.”

  Ellen’s eyes widened. “Frank’s teaching Shakespeare? Frank?”

  “What the fuck is this shit?” Frank held open the book as he stood before the classroom of men. “Where’s the ‘To be or not to be’ line?”

  A soldier raised his hand. “It’s not in there. That is Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Oh.” Frank nodded. “I thought we were doing Shakespeare.”

  The same soldier spoke. “Romeo and Juliet is Shakespeare as well.”

  “He wrote more than one?” Frank nodded impressed. “O.K., I guess if Hal wants Romeo and Juliet, I’ll teach it.” He took a deep breath and looked at the notes Hal had left him. “Scene interpretation. Read the scene and help the men interpret it.” He shrugged. “Easy enough. I guess it doesn’t matter where I start, huh?” He flipped open a page. After a blink, Frank began to read. “Many a mourning hath . . . what the piss is hath . . . he . . . been there . . . seen?” Frank looked up from the words. “Hath he been there seen?” He shrugged. “Must be a typo.” He began to read again. “With . . . tears . . . aug . . . aug . . . augmenting, yeah, with tears augmenting . . . the fresh . . . morning’s . . . dew.” Exhaling, Frank lowered the book. “Interpretation.” He paused. “Haven’t a clue.” He raised the book again.

  “Sir,” one of the soldiers called out. “The Captain often has us read. Would you like that?”

  “For you guys to read? Yeah.” Frank walked to the desk. “In fact, let’s make this even more fun. Let’s act it out. Wait. There are no women.” He gave a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Not like you’ll kiss or anything. All right. Um . . .” Frank hummed as he flipped through the pages. “Excellent. A two character scene. Page . . . seventy-two.” He listened for the flipping of pages. “Let’s get the worst part out of the way. I need a Juliet.” Frank was surprised by the show of hands. “All right how about . . .”

  “Oh!” Ellen who quietly had been watching called out from the back excitedly. “Let me, Frank. Please.”

  “El.” Frank’s eyes smiled. “Hey, look, it’s El. She’s a woman. Yeah, you be this Juliet person.”

  Ellen looked so pleased as she trotted into the classroom, waving as she did. “I always wanted to be Juliet. Will you be my Romeo, Frank?”

  “Fuck no.” Frank then spoke to the class. “I need a Romeo.”

  No one raised their hands.

  “What?” Frank asked confused. “You raised your hand to be a broad, but not a man?”

  Little did Frank know the reason no one volunteered. Elliott slowly walked into the classroom. “I’ll be Romeo, Frank.”

  “Good.” Frank walked to Elliott, whispering, “You better have a word with these guys. They all volunteered to be a woman, but not one for a guy. Either they’ve been hanging out together, you know, too long or the House of Lesbians is having a bad influence.”

  “Got it,” Elliott said.

  Frank handed Ellen, then Elliott, a book,. “It’s some story that, check this out, that Shakespeare guy wrote but it doesn’t have ‘To be or not to be’ in it. O.K. page seventy-two.”

  Ellen opened her book and turned the page over. “Oh,” she said softly.

  “You know this scene?” Elliott asked.

  “Are you surprised I know it? I’ll have you know, I loved the movie.” Ellen nodded. “How about you?”

  “All of his works are required for eloquence amongst us..” Elliott faced her. “You’re not angry at me for doing this, are you?”

  Frank’s voice spoke up instead of Ellen. “Stop. I’m lost.” He flipped page. “Are you guys on the right scene?”

  Ellen looked over her shoulder. “Um, no. We got it now.”

  “Good. Start.” Frank walked to his desk. “You’re confusing my class. I had them prepped. And do good, because I don’t want them thinking this Shakespeare guy writes bad.” Just as he was about to sit d
own, he heard whispering from the men, then almost in unison, they all hurriedly grabbed a notebook, opened it up, held a pen, and looked forward. Instead of sitting, Frank made his way to the soldier seated up front. “Are you supposed to take notes?”

  “No, sir,” the soldier answered. “Actually, to be honest, knowing the Captain, we figure, since it is Sgt. Ryder and Dr. Hayes doing the scene, he’ll pay a hefty Danny Dollar reward for the man who best writes down the outcome.”

  “Oh.” Frank nodded. “O.K., well, I want in on this.” He grabbed a piece of paper and figured he could critique as well. “Start,” he told Ellen and Elliott.

  With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Elliott took Ellen’s hand. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, the holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

  Frank set down his pencil and lifted his own copy of the play. With a silent snicker, he shook his head thinking even a good acting job from Ellen and Elliott wasn’t going to help with the writing on the play.

  Ellen spoke so unlike herself, soft, and with an added slight British accent. “Pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch. And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

  Frank, at first, thought the play was about something else. He didn’t even know Shakespeare wrote another play. He was quiet impressed that a little British guy wrote about the first settlers.

  Elliott continued. He brought Ellen’s hand to his chest as he stepped into her. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too.”

  Ellen looked up to his eyes. “Ah, yes, pilgrim, lips that must use in prayer.”

  Frank was lost. He hadn’t a clue what they were saying. Then he looked up as he took his notes for the Danny Dollar contest.

  With a voice dropped to a barely audible one in a classroom so quiet, Elliott let go of the book and lowered his head. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Softly, he brought his lips to Ellen’s, parting them, and drawing them away.

  Frank stood up. The soldiers in the classroom began to write quickly and diligently.