TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

  The man’s head bowed. “I hear and will obey.”

  “Then take your friend of a beetle and go before I change my mind and kill you both.”

  “But I’m injured and he is unconscious.”

  Christopher grabbed the handle of the cane. Before he could draw it out of its scabbard, the man bounded to his feet, grabbed his companion’s shoulder with his good hand and began to drag him out of the alley, the man’s head bobbing unheeded against the pavement.

  Like a wraith, Christopher disappeared into the shadows.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Christopher stopped in front of a two-story pink house. A white wrought iron fence encircled it. On the gate was a white sign that read Shardul Orphanage, which loosely translated into Tiger Orphanage. Greenery and lush white flowers circled the building. A young girl sat on a swing, pushing it back and forth with her feet on the ground.

  Opening the gate, he walked up the stepping stone sidewalk. The girl got off the swing. It continued its back and forth motion then came to a stop.

  He wouldn’t have recognized her if he hadn’t looked into her eyes. They were old beyond her years, possibly beyond his.

  She stopped in front of him, picked up his hand that bore The Tiger ring and kissed it. “Thank you.”

  He quickly drew it back. “There is no need of that.”

  “But there is. You saved my life.”

  “Then use it to help others. Have you decided what you wish to be?” He wanted to ask how old she was but was afraid of the answer.

  “A teacher.”

  He nodded. “Good. India can certainly use you. You will go to school. America, if need be, then return and help the good Father that runs Shardul.”

  “With pleasure.” She smiled, a smile that momentarily lifted the sadness from her liquid brown eyes.

  He sighed as he walked up the steps. The need was so great and the orphanage so small. He refused to touch Aunt Tam’s money for this particular passion of his. It would drain her dry. Besides, Tam and Edward had sponsored their own orphan.

  Before he could ring the doorbell, the door was thrown open by a burly red-haired man. He threw his arms around Christopher. It’s good to see you.”

  “Hello, Greg.” Christopher returned the embrace then stepped back. The two friends studied each other.

  Christopher and Greg had met in college. They became fast friends and kept in touch after graduation.

  Greg, in an accelerated learning program, had graduated early and joined the priesthood, but stayed only a few months, disenchanted as a wave of sexual misconduct swept through the diocese.

  When he left the church, Christopher came to him and told him of the plight of the orphans in India and Greg found his calling. He ran the orphanage and Christopher supplied the money.

  Even though Greg was a very religious man, he was also savvy and firmly believed in the adage “Don’t ask don’t tell”. He kept abreast of current events and it hadn’t taken him long to connect the dots. Fabulous jewels disappeared and money for the orphanage appeared.

  He rather thought of himself as Friar Tuck to Christopher’s Robin Hood. Of course, he didn’t share this particular parable with his partner, who he knew would either snort in disgust or laugh himself silly. Christopher did not see the good in himself that Greg did. But Lai was no Maid Marian and he’d offered up a fervent prayer of thanksgiving when Christopher returned to the States.

  “Come in. Come in. Would you like tea or something stronger?”

  Christopher’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s only nine o’clock in the morning, Greg.”

  Greg slapped his head and laughed. “So it is. I attended a birthing last night.”

  They strolled into a well lit, sunny kitchen.

  “Animal or human?”

  Greg stifled a yawn. “Human. It’s tough going. I lectured on sanitation and to keep the flies away from the baby, but I’m not sure it did any good.”

  “You’re dealing with hundreds of years of superstition, Greg.” Christopher pulled out a chair from the table. It scraped the wooden floor.

  “Tell me about it. How about coffee instead?” Without waiting for a reply he poured two cups of the dark liquid out of the coffee maker. He handed Christopher a cup then sat down with a weary sigh.

  Christopher lifted the cup to his lips. The bracing fragrance teased his senses. Even though the kitchen was warm, he enjoyed the feel of the hot liquid rolling down his throat. “How is Heresh doing?” When there was no response, Christopher looked up. “Greg?”

  Greg sat at the table with his eyes closed. His head jerked. “Hm?”

  “How is Heresh doing?”

  “Graduated from medical school with honors.”

  Heresh had come to them in his late teens and had already had a smattering of schooling. He was brilliant and soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Accelerated classes had allowed him to graduate early.

  “Simi?” She was another whose thankfulness for a second chance had pushed her to finish early.

  “She’ll be graduating this summer with honors. Both will be coming home to practice.”

  “And the little one out front says she wants to be a teacher.”

  Greg nodded.

  “Take special care of her, Greg. She’s seen and done things no child should ever be exposed to.”

  “Haven’t they all?”

  “Yes. Yes, they have. But it’s worse for the girls,” Christopher’s face set in hard lines, his voice grim. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Which makes what I’m about to say that much harder.”

  Greg set down his cup and watched Christopher, waiting.

  “I’m getting married.”

  Greg jumped up from the table, pushing his chair back across the floor. He reached over and pumped Christopher’s hand. “Chris, this is wonderful news. Boy, she must be something to have brought the elusive Saint to heel. Or should I say Saint to Church,” and laughed at his witticism. “Get it Saint to Church, on your wedding day.”

  Christopher rolled his eyes. Greg’s sense of humor was an acquired taste.

  Greg sobered. “So what’s wrong?”

  Christopher grimaced. His hands encircled his coffee cup. “Let’s just say I don’t see my intended being particularly excited about the manner in which I raise money for my favorite charity.” It was as close as Christopher had ever come to admitting he was The Tiger.

  “I plan on turning all my attention to the import-export shop that I’m a silent partner in. Max has been talking about retirement and it’s time I learned the ins and outs of running the place. But it will take years to bring it to the point where it can support this.” He waved his hand around the kitchen.

  Greg made a dismissive gesture as he hitched up his pants and sat back down. “God will provide.”

  Christopher snorted. He got up and prowled around the room. “I appreciate your faith but don’t talk like a fool.”

  Greg watched his friend pace. “Christopher, it’s time and past time. You’ve been lucky. Damn lucky. Some of the countries that you have worked out of don’t exactly have prisons that equal the Ritz.”

  Christopher paused in his pacing. “How do we take care of them, Greg? If I had to, I guess I could go to Aunt Tam…” He grimaced, finding the idea distasteful in the extreme.

  Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “Sit down, Christopher. I’m getting a crick in my neck.” When Christopher didn’t immediately comply he motioned with his hand. “Sit. Sit.”

  Christopher pulled out his chair and sat back down, staring out the window at the growth of bamboo in the backyard garden.

  “How many orphans have come through these doors in the past five years?”

  Christopher shrugged. “Twenty, twenty-five.”

  “Thirty-five.”

  Christopher arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Half of them were young adults when you pulled them off the streets, some are in college in the
States. The ones you placed as apprentices have already learned trades and are working. Every one of them owes their existence to you and they know it. The ones that work send money regularly to help the orphanage. I never told you about it because I knew you’d find another orphan or two or three to use it on, but I knew this day would come. I’ve been putting away a portion of the money you’ve sent us for the past several years. We will be okay. All our students want to help others as you helped them. We’ve talked about it a lot. They are willing to pay their dues, to sponsor the new orphans as they come through these doors.”

  He reached over and clapped his friend on the back. “We are going to be okay, Chris. We are going to be okay.

  “The miracle is that you managed to keep this place from Lai the years you were together and since. Now tell me about your bride.”

  Christopher leaned back, tipping his chair. “She terrifies me.”

  Greg’s brown eyes sparkled. He chuckled. “I’ve got to meet this woman. Tell me more.”

  “She’s tall and blonde in a Nordic queen sort of way.” A reminiscent smile touched his face. It was one of those smiles that men and women have when they are thinking of particularly good sex. He looked at Greg. “She’s an independent reporter and her dad’s a policeman who hates my guts.”

  Greg’s eyebrows soared as he straightened in his chair. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  Christopher sighed. “I’m afraid so, right alongside my heart.”

  “Pardon my lack of finesse but I’ve never known your dick to rule your head before.”

  Christopher laughed. “I’m afraid I have no choice. She saw me in Aunt Tam’s crystal ball.”

  “I may need something stronger than coffee,” Greg muttered. “Would you care to explain?”

  “Sometime when I have a couple of hours to spare, I’ll tell you the story. But right now, I’ve got to go. I should already be heading back for the States. But I had to let you know about our young friend and of course see how you were doing.”

  The chair scraped against the wooden floor as Christopher rose and pushed it away from the table.

  He clasped Greg’s hand in a firm grip. “If you need me call.” He loved this man like a brother.

  Greg nodded returning the pressure. “And give my regards to the bride.”

  “Will you come to the wedding?”

  “You know I will. When?”

  “I’ll let you know.” Adding with a crooked grin, “I’d ask you to officiate if the States would recognize your authority.”

  Greg grinned back. “You may use me in any other capacity.”

  * * * * *

  Gabby sat in the study staring at the blank computer screen. The cursor blinked in place, like a digital alarm clock needing resetting after a power outage, waiting to move in a linear fashion across the iridescent white page.

  Gabby had looked through her computer files and found research she had started on crystals and stones. The file intrigued her, especially considering her own special crystal.

  Glancing at her ring, she wondered what the oriental witch had done with her globe. She turned her hand back and forth. The emerald sitting amidst the glittering diamonds shimmered in the light. It was very similar in shade to the crystal. Gabby had read that green quartz was rare and often found near emerald deposits.

  She tapped a long lacquered shell pink nail against her lip while staring at it thoughtfully. The globe was an anomaly. If anyone had told her about it, she would have laughed herself sick. But she now knew its power and missed it like a lover’s touch.

  And speaking of which…where in the hell was Christopher?

  She sighed, feeling torn. Part of her wanted him back with an intensity that was terrifying, part of her was glad he was gone. It bought her time. What was she going to do when he came back?

  Why would he do it? Lord knows he didn’t need the money. Was he just a bored bad boy? Whatever his reasons, she couldn’t, wouldn’t marry a thief.

  Gabby made a half-hearted attempt to take the ring off. But just like the other dozen or so times she tried it, it wouldn’t slip over her knuckle. It rested resplendently on her finger like a nightingale nesting on her eggs.

  Trying to push Christopher to the back of her mind, she glanced again at the blank screen. Getting her thoughts in order she began to type.

  Through the ages crystals have been synonymous with energy and energy fields, availing mankind with the ability to tap into the natural world around them. Many believe the quartz crystals beneath the earth’s surface help keep the earth’s magnetic field in balance.

  Gabby hit her stride, the keys flying as she watched the words appear as if by magic on the screen. Totally engrossed in her subject matter it took a minute or two for the gong of the doorbell echoing through the house to register.

  She tried to ignore it. Maybe, just maybe, she could figure out what caused her globe to tick. She felt its loss like a physical pain. Gabby thumped her fist against the desk. Somehow, I’ll get that globe back if it’s the last thing I do.

  The doorbell shrilled again. With a sigh, she stretched and got up. Her feet sank into the plush carpet as she padded to the door. Where was everybody? Shopping?

  She nodded. That’s right, Tamara had said something about shopping.

  She made it to the door seconds before Ned and Jericho arrived. Ned’s tail wagged madly from side to side, as if to say, “Oh boy, company”. Jericho plopped his fanny squarely in front of the door and stared at it.

  She nudged Ned out of the way and walked around Jericho to stick her eye to the peep hole. A well-dressed young Indian stood at the door.

  She opened it, but left the latch on the hook. “Yes?”

  The young man nodded politely. He was about four inches shorter than Gabby, with short black hair and wore a dark conservative suit. “I’m here to see Mr. Saint.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  He cleared his throat, his eyes shifted.

  Gabby lifted her nose and literally sniffed the air. Her journalistic instincts began to quiver.

  She unlatched the door and gave him her most charming smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  He extended his hand. “Joshi. My name is Heresh Joshi. My friends call me Henry.”

  Gabby placed her arm through his and drew him inside. “Won’t you come in, Henry.”

  She led him into the sitting room. She closed the door behind him, shutting the animals out. The last thing she saw before she shut the door was two offended blue eyes.

  The sitting room was a cozy little spot with old-fashioned roses papered on the wall. Two over-stuffed cream colored love seats faced each other, an antique coffee table sat between them. Ecru lace curtains were bunched at the windows, their folds falling in a graceful arc to the floor.

  Henry studied the room. “This is nice.”

  Gabby glanced around the familiar enclosure. “It is isn’t it? Would you like something to drink, tea perhaps?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Make yourself at home.” Gabby smiled at him then opened the door. She’d forgotten the dog and cat. They nearly knocked her and each other down in the race to get through the door.

  She threw up her hands in defeat as the animals rushed forward to sniff Henry.

  He laughed. “It’s okay. I like animals.”

  “That’s a good thing.” She left the room, with the animals entertaining their visitor with tales of their derring-do. At least that’s what it sounded like to Gabby’s experienced ears.

  She looked back over her shoulder and saw him petting and talking to both creatures. Smiling, Gabby headed for the kitchen.

  She filled a small silver platter with a pitcher of tea, two crystal glasses and a bowl of mixed nuts and then sprinkled fresh mint leaves on the golden-red beverage.

  “Hope he likes it sweet.” She sent a brief prayer spiraling toward heaven that her own teeth didn’t decay and fall out.

&nbs
p; In the Midwest, one made tea and added sweetener. In the South, the sugar bowl was emptied into the steaming brew, where it dissolved into a liquid confection designed to elevate blood sugar the moment it slid down one’s throat.

  She started toward the door, then backpedaled and grabbed treats out of the kitty and dog jar sitting on the kitchen counter, placed a couple on the tray and pushed through the swinging doors.

  When she reached the setting room, Jericho was perched on the arm of the love seat next to Henry and Ned was at his feet, his plumy tail thumping.

  Jericho saw her, sniffed the air, his nose twitching. He jumped down and ran to her. Ned followed.

  “Fickle.” She laughed and threw both animals a treat. She sat down across from Henry, poured each of them a glass of tea then sank back against the cushions. “Hope you like it sweet.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Gabby took a sip, the subtle fragrance of mint tickling her senses. “So, Henry, what did you want to see Christopher about?”

  He looked at her, his thin features solemn. “To thank him.”

  Gabby stared at him for a long moment. “Would you care to explain that?”

  His back ramrod straight he said with simple dignity, “I’m from the orphanage.”

  Gabby blinked several times then opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  “I know Mr. Saint is very secretive about us. I don’t know why. I always thought perhaps so many people would beg for his help that he would have to turn them away and that would bother him.”

  He glanced around. “I assumed he was very rich.” Then hastened to add, “All this, while being very, very nice, is hardly the home of a billionaire, which we always thought Mr. Saint must be to help as he’s done.”

  Gabby closed her eyes and shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

  He tried again. “I’m from the orphanage that he and Father Greg run. Father isn’t actually a priest anymore but we call him that.”

  Gabby’s head spun. She had an insane desire to giggle. Could this possibly be what Tamara was talking about when she alluded to Robin Hood?