by Anthology
“I know this is an odd thing for me to ask, but do you mind if we just take off somewhere. I’ve heard that Oregon is beautiful. I have been cooped up for so long that I just want to be on the road somewhere, I don’t really care where at this point — just as long as eventually you can point me in the direction of some good food, I’ll be happy.”
“Are you sure you trust me to drive?” I ask as I turn on the scooter.
“As long as you don’t want me to ride piggyback on the freeway on that thing, I suppose I do,” she answers with a healthy degree of skepticism.
“Are you kidding? People around here drive like maniacs! You need a seatbelt. I drive a nice safe minivan like a soccer mom.”
Chapter 6
Taylor
HONESTLY, I DIDN’T KNOW QUITE WHAT to expect, especially after learning that Sam was from Tampa. I really almost lost it. After I figured out who he really is, I realize that the chances that he’s really an ally rather than the enemy are pretty good. I decided to trust my gut for whatever that’s worth. It’s still a pretty scary proposition since my gut has let me down before. Under the circumstances, I really don’t have much choice.
The Pacific Northwest sure lives up to its billing. The first thing that hits me is the fact that there are trees everywhere. It looks like a Christmas tree farm exploded. As soon as we leave the congestion of the naval base in Washington and head toward Portland, everywhere I look there are large trees and they look nothing like the trees in Florida. Sam explains that if in Eastern Oregon, there is a mountain range where people go skiing. I pull out my cellphone and start to take pictures of the snow-capped mountains. Even in the middle of the day, it looks like something you’d see on a postcard.
When Sam told me where he lived, I was dreading the almost three hour drive with someone I didn’t know, but Sam is refreshingly honest in a way that tells me that he spends a lot of time watching people. My grandmother would have loved him and I’m sure they would’ve spent a lot of time comparing notes. He doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to calling people out on fake behavior and his commentary is touchingly funny. I can’t remember laughing this hard in a really long time. He has an odd way of encouraging me to open up and talk about myself. I haven’t felt this comfortable since before I met Reid.
I’m not sure what I find most appealing about him. It could be that he is really smart and funny but doesn’t find it necessary to go out of his way to convince me; or maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t trying to show me how brave and macho he is every other second. Perhaps it’s that he seems to value my opinion about things. It doesn’t seem to matter whether it’s something trivial like what makes a standup comedian funny or something serious like global politics, Sam seems really interested in what I think about things. Even if we disagree about things, he doesn’t challenge my opinion just for the purpose of proving me wrong or making me feel inferior.
*****
Instead of sightseeing today, I elected to stay in. Even though Sam hasn’t said anything, I can tell that his muscles must be really sore. Today, while we were at Powell’s bookstore, the mechanism that lifts the scooter in and out of Sam’s van broke down. Fortunately, I was able to run to an auto supply store and grab the parts I needed to fix it. Sometimes, having a degree in engineering is helpful. A lot of guys are threatened by what I do but Sam was really gracious,; he thanked me for my help and told me that I saved him a lot of money. Unfortunately, while his scooter was in the van, he was using his crutches and the added pressure broke open an existing blister on his hand. He didn’t say a word, but I could tell that it was causing him a great deal of pain so I volunteered to make dinner tonight.
“How do you feel about mushrooms?” I yell into the living room.
“Knock yourself out,” Sam replies, “but I hate those bamboo things.”
“You’re in luck, I hate them too. Pea pods?” I ask.
“I have no opinion about pea pods,” he responds.
“Okay, I’m adding them for your health — besides, every good stir-fry has pea pods.”
After I finish the stir-fry, I dish it up on a couple plates and carry them into the living room. Poor Sam, he looks half-sacked out on the sofa, but when he sees me, he sits up and says, “You didn’t have to wait on me. Cooking dinner was more than enough.”
“Don’t worry about it. Whenever I’m not deployed, I always eat in front of the TV. Unless I’m having company, my table usually is the place where my junk mail lives.”
“I know this is going to sound like a stupid question, but are you gone a lot?”
“It depends on the conflicts around the world. Sometimes more than others, why?”
“You’re probably going to think this is silly, but you know my dad was in the Navy and he seemed to be deployed all the time. My mom also admitted to me once that my dad never dealt well with my disability. When I was growing up, I often wondered if my dad chose to be gone so much as a coping mechanism of sorts. I didn’t say my logic was very sound, I just couldn’t help but wonder because I had other friends in high school whose parents were in the military that weren’t gone nearly as much as my dad. It was hard not to take it personally on some level.”
“Yeah, there are a lot of decisions my parents made that I take way too personally. Since I don’t know your father and I don’t know the circumstances under which he served, I can’t really tell you the answer to that. Didn’t your dad serve during the Gulf conflicts? I think the usual rules go out the window during a war like that. I’m sorry though, that must’ve sucked for you.”
“It did, but I have to remember that it was a whole lot worse for other people. What do you guys do on the ship? Don’t you get bored in your downtime?”
“Sure. There are a bunch of gym rats and a group of poets and writers who got together and published a book. There’s this one guy who really should work at Pixar Studios because he is a great cartoonist. He’s done so many caricatures of all of us he could probably do his own little mini movie. You just find something to do. I taught myself how to crochet with videos I found on the Internet. It isn’t gorgeous, but it keeps me busy. I read a lot and I happen to think that the Kindle is the best invention ever, outside of the personal computer,” I answer, pointing to the Kindle case sticking out of my purse.
“We should swap reading lists sometime, I read a lot too. Although, I would’ve guessed that you’d be into Trivial Pursuit.”
I grin as I reply, “I didn’t say my list was all-inclusive. You’re looking at the second-place champion. I would have been in first place, but I had to back off because the current reigning champ is one of my superior officers and he wouldn’t take kindly to an enlisted chick dressing him down, even if it’s for fun and games, so I settled for second — although I would’ve had no trouble beating him.”
Sam straightens his spine and rubs his neck, “I’ll tell you what. How about we play ourselves a little game. We’ll even let the game console keep score. You play as hard as you possibly can, no holding back to save my ego, promise? Although, I have to warn you, no one has beaten me at this game since I was nine.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as I ask, “No one? Why haven’t you tried out for one of those game shows and made a ton of money?”
“It’s weird. Casting directors get all bent out of shape when you can’t talk well. Having to repeat myself several times to be understood doesn’t play so well on TV.”
“Oh, I see. Well, for this game, there is no clock; it’s just us. If I win, I’m going to act as your own personal masseuse and work on your sore neck and shoulders,” I announce.
Sam is silent for a full minute before he turns to me and says, “Ditto.”
I wink at him before I whisper softly, “Okay, Samuel Jonathan Taylor let the games begin.”
Chapter 7
Sam
SHE BEAT ME. SHE FLAT out beat me — and it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Who knew that nave plates and hubcaps were the s
ame thing? Taylor thought that perhaps I took it easy on her so that she could win, but I honestly didn’t know the answer. Even before she gave me the single best massage I’ve ever had in my lifetime, I can’t remember having so much fun with someone. I told her that after she worked so hard to beat me at the trivia game, she deserved a massage too.
For a woman with extensive self-defense training, Taylor is remarkably ticklish. Every time I would start to reach out toward her to give her massage, she would start to laugh which would cause me to have a spastic reaction. My reaction would cause her to flinch, which would make me flinch too which would make her laugh even harder. Finally, I did what any self-respecting man would do. I took off my glasses and kissed her. It wasn’t something I really planned in advance; it just seemed to fit the moment. Usually, I get so nervous about this kind of stuff that I can’t really relax and enjoy myself. But between the two of us, it just seemed like a natural extension of where our conversation and activities were going. There didn’t seem to be any dramatic buildup or expectation. It was just like one thing flowed into another.
After one intense kissing session, where we both were struggling to catch our breath, she whispered, “I think the glasses are sexy, but I never realized how gorgeous your eyes are.”
I’m not really sure how to answer that; it’s pretty unusual when women notice me at all. I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning my eyes or any other body part. I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment as I mumble, “Thank you, I guess.”
Taylor quirked the side of her mouth up as she inquired, “Am I not supposed to think you’re handsome?”
“It’s going to take some getting used to, but I suppose there are worse things.”
*****
As we wait for the waitress to bring back our check, I ask, “So, what did you think?”
“I never would’ve thought to eat crêpes that weren’t sweet, but it was amazing,” Taylor answers.
“I keep trying to tell you, there’s more to Portland than Voodoo Donuts. Le Happy is one of my go to places. I have to ask, if you liked it, why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”
“You don’t understand. When I had to leave, I had to leave everything behind. Reid knew everybody. What’s to say he didn’t change the paperwork to say that I never bought the ring? What if I can’t prove it and I’m out $9,000 for that stupid piece of carbon that represented nothing but empty promises and pain?”
“Taylor, with the way our records work within my company, that simply can’t happen. Our corporate folks are not going to want to have an unhappy customer on their hands. They’ll likely work with you to help recover it. If they don’t, I know who will.”
*****
Clicking my phone case shut, I turn to Taylor, pulling her attention away from the bright Christmas displays in Pioneer Courthouse Square. “I know you were frustrated this morning when our folks at the jewelry store said they wouldn’t be able to do much except provide copies of your paperwork. To be honest, so was I — but, fortunately, it wasn’t my only plan of attack. Remember I told you about my friend Jessica from Florida? We used to work together — well, that’s not exactly right — she worked in the same mall and we used it take our lunches together. Anyway, she has more connections than God and her fiancé, Mitch, works with some high-powered law enforcement guys. It turns out that your ex is not unknown to the law. He’s been running sweetheart swindles for a while.”
“You mean I wasn’t his first sucker?” Taylor asks sardonically.
I pull her down onto my lap and kiss her before I answer, “No, but you’ll be the last.”
Chapter 8
Taylor
I PAUSE AS I PLACE silverware on the table. “How many people did you say are coming? Do they usually just show up like this? It just seems weird to me,” I comment before I can stop the words from flying out of my mouth.
Sam laughs when he sees the horrified expression on my face. “No, I totally agree. It’s bizarre. I still don’t know how Jessica gets used to that lifestyle. I guess Tristan invented some really famous software and he owns one of those Internet security firms that hunts down hackers and stuff like that. He married Rogue and her father-in-law is a legendary law enforcement guy with the feds. Isaac works with Tristan now and they both have some project with Jessica’s fiancé, Mitch.”
“That’s all very fascinating, but that doesn’t explain why they’re coming the day after Christmas?”
“Oh, that… Well, the official story line is that Jessica never got to say goodbye to me when she moved to Kansas and that she and Ivy — Rogue’s twin sister — were checking out where I live and decided they wanted to come see the zoo lights at Christmas time. I think there’s probably a whole lot more to the story than that, but we won’t know until they get here,” Sam answers carefully — a little too carefully. I spend my days around military types who need to keep secrets for a living, so I recognize cagey behavior when I see it — it doesn’t make me happy. Still, I don’t know what he’s been told.
“We’re having nine people for dinner?” I ask, looking around his modest home trying to mentally map it out.
“Actually, it’s ten, Rosa is coming — she’s Isaac’s wife.”
“Great. I haven’t cooked in months and this is the first meal you throw at me? Nothing like a logistical challenge,” I reply as I pretend to snap him with the dishtowel.
Sam blocks it with his forearm crutch and grins at me as he replies, “I’m not worried. I’ve had your cooking before, and it was delicious. If the smells coming out of the kitchen are anything to go by, it’s going to be perfect.”
*****
I know it’s easy for me to forget how much military life has changed me, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve been around civilians. I have to admit, if I ever had a sister, I would want her to be just like Jessica. She makes it impossible to feel excluded or out of place. She even has me half convinced to go see a classical music concert. I’m not exactly sure how she got me to do that.
After Sam brings out the apple pie we made together this afternoon, Isaac addresses me, “You’ve been far more patient than I would ever be. As you may have guessed, we have more than one purpose here.”
I can feel my heart rate speed up and a light sheen of sweat appear on my forehead as I hear those words. I have no idea what type of news he could be bringing. Before today, I’ve never even met these people.
“Just tell me,” I answer robotically. I’m so used to soul shattering news about Reid Weber, I almost don’t have a reflex against it anymore.
“From the look on your face, I don’t think our news is anything like what you’re expecting,” Tristan comments as he leaves through a thick file. “Your would-be Casanova has a bit of history with the ladies and hasn’t bothered to hide his digital footprint very well. How he got hired by the county as a dispatching supervisor is beyond me.”
“You actually know where the slime ball is?” Sam asks incredulously.
“Actually, it was not hard to find him. He was still doing the same type of work; he was just over in the next state.”
I roll my eyes as I mutter, “Great, he’s got even more cops in his back pocket. No one will ever believe me now.”
“Officer John, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. It seems that your ex-fiancé had a little hobby of photographing his victims and sharing them on a website with a bunch of people who are just as sick as he is. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to wipe the metadata off of his photos first. My FBI buddies were able to match the photos online to a camera in his possession.”
My eyes widen and I gasp a little as I ask, “Have you already confronted him?”
Isaac chuckles a little as he responds, “To be honest, we didn’t get very many words in, he was too busy spouting off. In a manner of speaking, we did speak to him. Mitch happened to have his search and rescue dog, Hope, with him when he and Jessica came to Gainesville. He’s been cross training her on some
narcotics tasks, so we brought her along with us. Let’s just say she took an instant dislike to your ex and was looking especially menacing.”
Glancing over at Sam, who is using the tip of his crutch to give the German Shepherd a belly rub, I look back at Mitch and comment, “Somehow I have a hard time reconciling the word menacing and this puddle of furry love.”
Jessica giggles and responds in a stage whisper, “Sometime when the guys aren’t around for their egos to be crushed, remind me to tell you about the day that I met my fiancé.”
Much to my shock, Mitch sticks his tongue out at Jessica and then looks at me and continues, “Anyway, as I was saying, your ex-fiancé wet his pants a little, turned over some cocaine and after we explained why we were there, he handed over the ring.”
“That jerk had it all along? Reid told me he gave it back to me! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have made a fool out of myself at all those pawnshops trying to sell my ring. Now what happens?” I ask, barely able to keep the rage out of my voice.
“With the holidays, he’s not going to be arraigned until Monday, but they’re going to do it via closed-circuit television. I’ve made arrangements with the FBI for you to make a visual I.D. just to confirm what we know from the DNA. The truth is, that boy has bigger problems than stealing that ring from you — but your testimony will be important too. More than likely, he’ll go back to jail on the probation violation from his attempted murder charge out of Wisconsin.”
“His what?” I hiss.
“The routine he pulled with you was not new, but the victim before you was not quite as lucky and she sustained a traumatic brain injury that she is still recovering from. He fled from Wisconsin and was able to get a job with the county before they were finished investigating the crime because she didn’t regain consciousness for several weeks and after that, she lost her memory for a while. By the time the law enforcement agency was able to reconstruct the crime, you had already fled. Your fiancé had simply moved to another state and was lying low. When he felt it was safe, he found another job using a different name. Sincee he still used all the same websites and social media settings, all the money he used to pay off people to hide became meaningless.”
