Hope and Honor

by Marilee Brothers

I gaze at the bobbing red balloon. “It’s a good thing my name isn’t Hope because, right now, I feel pretty damn hopeless.”

  On impulse, I stand on the couch and tug on the ribbon tied to the balloon. I wrap it around my hand, curl up on the couch and close my eyes. I will myself to relax and enter the fugue state halfway between sleep and wakefulness. The red balloon warms against my hand. Comforted, I ask Hope to come to me. She doesn’t.

  Frustrated and exhausted, I drift into a deep sleep fraught with terrifying dreams. I see the twins on a wooded path. Gunner, clad in camo, walks a few steps ahead of Kimber who is clutching Blossom Bunny. The two are unaware of the cougar perched high above them, its gaze tracking their movements.

  Suddenly, I’m there too, trailing behind, a red balloon tied to my wrist. I try to call out, but I have no voice. I scream silently in my mind. Hurry, Mel, hurry! The kids are in danger. When I try to run, my feet are anchored to the ground. Unable to speak or run, I watch the cougar leap from the tree and creep up behind the twins who are oblivious to the danger. The wind howls through the pines, their frenzied branches whipping back and forth like living things.

  I’m powerless. Helpless. A frustrated, soundless “No!” reverberates through my body. The ribbon, securing the red balloon to my wrist, wriggles and unwinds, releasing the balloon into the air. It floats upward, gently bouncing along the treetops before rising upward.

  As it disappears, I feel strength and energy pour into my body. My feet fly down the path and I scream a warning. The big cat pauses and turns to face me. Its yellow eyes now fixed on me. The twins freeze. Then, Gunner pushes Kimber behind him. I look for a weapon and find nothing but a pile of pinecones. I begin hurling them at the cougar. As the makeshift missiles bounce off the animal, they turn into tiny red balloons and rise in the air.

  Kimber screams in terror. Gunner picks up a stick and advances toward the cougar.

  “No!” The scream rips me from the dream. I awake covered in sweat, my heart pounding, the inside of my mouth like cracked leather. My hands are shaking. While thrashing in my troubled sleep, the red balloon slipped from my hand. It now rests against the window, deflating slowly. I watch as it collapses, folds into itself and settles onto the sill.

  I pace the floor. My feelings of fright and confusion will not subside. It’s time to call the one person who truly understands the strangeness of my life.

  Steve answers on the first ring. “Melanie, how are you?”

  I hear voices in the background. “Sounds like you’re busy. Are you working?”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  I hear footsteps, a door opening and closing.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  The words pour out, my voice quivering with emotion. Steve listens attentively, interrupting from time to time to clarify a point.

  By the time I finish describing the dream, I’m in tears. “You sent the balloon as a reminder to include Hope in my life. I called out for her but she didn’t come. Now, I feel like she’s slipped away from me. I don’t understand.”

  When he speaks, his voice is comforting. “Mi hija, I’m so glad you called me. You’re feeling abandoned, but it’s actually very good news.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s simple, really. Hope knows you don’t need her anymore. The red balloon deflating means her soul is at ease. She knows that you, Honor Melanie Sullivan, are capable of acting alone. She knows you are fearless and smart. The dream is a sign. It means this is the time to release Hope’s spirit and let her rest in peace.”

  I stay quiet and let his words sink in. I so want to believe him. Steve has always been straight with me, but my ego is still stinging from Hitchcock’s spot-on analysis of my current life situation. Finally, I murmur my thanks.

  “You’re welcome, dear one. Call if you need me.”

  As I’m getting ready for work, Kendra calls. “Remember my mini blinds order?”

  “Of course. It’s the last time I saw Jake Gunderson.”

  “You know I really didn’t need them. I just wanted to get a look at Gunderson and actually, I was a big help. Right?”

  “Refresh my memory.”

  She clucks her tongue in annoyance. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten I was the one who found out Jake isn’t the twins’ real father. Geez, Mel. Anyway, I called today and cancelled the order.”

  When I don’t respond, she says, “What’s going on with you? You sound depressed.”

  “Sorry, I got some bad news about the kids today.”

  I fill her in on my trip to New Dawn.

  “So, now what?”

  I hear a familiar sound. “Hold on a sec. Thunder Paws is pounding on the door.”

  Her laughter follows me to the door. I open it and the cat darts through. He has something in his mouth. A large furry something with a tail. He looks up at me with a smug expression and drops the fattest mouse I’ve ever seen at my feet. It’s virtually unharmed and scampers across the floor. Before it can duck beneath the couch, Thunder Paws follows it and re-captures it with a furry paw.

  Startled, I yip in alarm and drop the phone. “Damn it, Thunder Paws, bad kitty!”

  I hear Kendra yelling, “What? What?”

  The cat returns to me with his prize. I walk to the door and open it, hoping he’ll take the hint. But, no, instead he makes a U-turn and stalks into the kitchen, the mouse still clamped between his jaws.

  Breathless, I tell Kendra. “It’s Thunder Paws. He has a live mouse. It might even be a rat. It’s not dead. Damn, what shall I do?”

  Kendra finds the whole scenario amusing. When she finally stops laughing, she says, “It’s a sign of his love. He brought you a present.”

  “He’s toying with it. He lets it go and then grabs it again.”

  “Yeah, it’s a cat thing. No worries. Help is on the way. In the meantime, see if you can corner it and trap it somehow.”

  “Trap it?” I screech. “How am I—”

  It’s too late. She’s clicked off. I leave the front door open, hoping the rodent will make a break for it. Trap it, Kendra said. My mouse-catching arsenal is pretty lame. It consists of a broom and plastic bucket. If I can get Thunder Paws to release it, I’ll whack it with the broom and throw the bucket over it.

  The cat is now under the kitchen table, playing with the mouse who still has plenty of life left in him. With one eye on Thunder Paws, I open the fridge and look for something he can’t resist. Slim pickings. Yogurt? No way. Then, I spot a shriveled wiener hiding behind a package of buns. Knowing his love of garbage, it should work.

  Armed with my broom, I wave the wiener in front of TP’s nose. “Here you go, kitty. Yum!”

  He’s definitely interested and spits out the mouse, but pins it to the floor with his front paw. His nose twitches. I back away, holding the wiener. He squints at me, suspecting a trick. I crouch down and drag the wiener across the floor in a zigzag pattern. He stands and crouches, ready to spring. Yes! “It’s all yours, buddy. Come and get it.”

  I drop the wiener and grab the broom with both hands. TP releases the mouse and pounces on the wiener. As the mouse scrambles away, I whack it with the broom. Thunder Paws emits a hideous yowl and leaps upon the kitchen table with the desiccated wiener. The mouse is stunned but alive. I trap it under the bucket, feeling proud of myself. Kendra told me to trap it and I did. Yay, me.

  I whirl around at the sound of footsteps. Billy is standing behind me, his Glock clearly visible in a shoulder holster inside his sport coat. He’s trying not to smile but amusement dances in his eyes.

  “Kendra called to report a damsel in distress. Something about a mouse? I was in the neighborhood.”

  I point to the bucket. “It’s there. I trapped it.”

  “That’s terrific, Minnie. What do you plan to do next?”

  Oh, yeah, the next step. I know he’s toying with me like Thunder Paws was toying with the mouse. Not to be outdone, I say, “I’ll scoot the bucket across the floor until I rea
ch the back door and then, I’ll…I’ll…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll set it free.”

  “What if it runs back into the house?”

  I glare up at him. “Highly unlikely since there’s a cat in the house.”

  “You sure about that?’

  “Pretty sure.”

  He chuckles. “You know what I find funny about this situation?”

  I shrug. “No idea.”

  “What’s my nickname for you?”

  I roll my eyes. “Minnie Mouse.”

  He points at the bucket. “He could be your first cousin.”

  “Oh, shut the hell up, Billy. Are you going to help me or not?”

  He whips the gun out of his holster and says, “On the count of three, lift the bucket.”

  Horrified, I clap a hand over my mouth.

  He laughs and slides the gun back into the holster. “Just kidding. Minnie, if you could see your face.”

  “Fine,” I huff. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “No worries.” He clamps his hands on my shoulders, turns me around and points at the living room. “I’m on the job. Wait in there.”

  I want the damn thing out of my house so I take a seat on the couch. There’s a scraping sound, a muttered, “Gotcha,” and the back door opening and closing.

  He comes into the living room. “No more mouse. By the way, there’s a cat on your kitchen table.”

  I demand details. “Did you kill the mouse?”

  “Nope. Threw it outside.”

  “With your bare hands?”

  “Paper towel.”

  He walks over to me. “You can thank me now.”

  I dart in close, give him a brief hug and back away. “Thanks.”

  He grins down at me. “Don’t trust yourself, huh?”

  “Your ego is enormous.”

  “I hear Friday’s your day off. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  Before I can respond, he’s out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The next few days pass swiftly. Back in a prescribed work routine, I regain my equilibrium and good nature, even though worry about the twins nibbles at my mind. Resolutely, I refuse to think about my date with Billy. Not an easy feat since he stops by the pub every night after work with his cop friends.

  When I deliver their food and drinks, one of his buddies asks, “Are you two back together?”

  Billy gets a competitive gleam in his eyes. “It’s a possibility.”

  “Better bring your ‘A’ game,” I say, evoking a round of ribald laughter.

  Thankfully, things have calmed down on the Ziggy front. She’s had a couple more lessons from Cowboy Jim. Nick said he actually saw her smile once and declares he’s cautiously optimistic. She even mucked out stalls at the Rockin’ R without bitching and moaning. Still, I warn Nick to make sure he knows her whereabouts at all times.

  “Really?” he says. “She’s being responsible. I think she’s earned a little more freedom.”

  I don’t agree, but Ziggy is his kid, not mine.

  When Friday rolls around, Chad pulls into my driveway at noon. I grab a shopping bag with treats for the twins. String cheese. Juice boxes. Several boxes of cute little crackers shaped like goldfish. It’s my attempt at providing healthy junk food.

  I deliberately bought an extra box of crackers, which I share with Chad on our trip to New Dawn. He digs in enthusiastically, leading me to believe he is also junk food-deprived. Perhaps this will lead to a new job description for me: Melanie Sullivan, New Dawn’s Fake Food Specialist.

  When we arrive, Hitchcock is still behind closed doors. Chad points to a chair in the hall. I don’t want him to think he’s the boss of me, so I tell him I’ll wait outside. He’s not happy, but joins me on the bench outside the hall. I’m sure he has explicit orders to keep a close eye on me after my disappearing act on Tuesday.

  I pass the next thirty minutes tormenting Chad. “Do you like it here? Why? Do you have a wife? Girlfriend? Kids? What did you eat for dinner last night? When you’re not driving me back and forth from 3 Peaks, what’s your job? Do you get paid? How much?”

  Finally, he turns red in the face and holds up a hand. “Gawd Almighty, woman, don’t you ever run out of questions?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course not.”

  He groans.

  I’m feeling a little guilty, so I add, “If you ever come to 3 Peaks when I’m working, stop by Nick’s pub and I’ll buy you a beer.”

  He smiles. “You got it.”

  His phone vibrates. He looks at the read-out. “Mr. Hitchcock is ready for you.”

  The door to the meeting room is closed. Hitchcock stands in the hall.

  He leans close and lowers his voice. “This might be a little confusing for you. I’m negotiating a deal with the gentlemen inside. It involves a considerable amount of money.”

  I can’t resist saying, “They must want to buy a bunch of blinds.”

  A shadow floats across his soul and he grimaces like he’s trying to control himself. Is it my imagination, or are his hands twitching because he’d like to wrap them around my neck?

  He says, “I’m making a point here, Mel. You’ll hear us talking about the product. I need to make sure they’re good for the money. That’s where you come in.”

  “So, is this the test? To make sure I’m telling you the truth?”

  He blows a disgusted sigh. “If it were, do you think I’d tell you? Actually, you passed with flying colors. Like I told you before, I pretty much knew George was making Agnes steal for him.”

  “Well, goodie for me. So, what happened to Agnes and George?”

  “Don’t push it, Mel.”

  He takes me by the arm and ushers me into the inner sanctum, where I see two men sitting on one side of the table. Both wear red baseball caps emblazoned with the logo from a bait and tackle shop. One man is older with a scruffy gray facial hair and a ponytail tied back with a leather thong. The second man is a bit younger with olive skin and luminous dark eyes. When I’m introduced as Hitchcock’s legal assistant, the older man frowns and rakes me with a look of suspicion.

  Since Hitchcock hasn’t bothered to tell me their names, I look at frowny face and say, “And you are…?”

  “Bill.”

  I beam at him like he’s just passed the orals for his doctorate degree, and then look inquisitively at the other man.

  He gets the hint. “I’m Oscar.”

  I plant my butt in a chair and pull it up nice and close. “Very pleased to meet you both.”

  Bill stares at Hitchcock. “Why do you need a legal assistant, especially one who looks like a teenage girl? Is this a joke?”

  I return his frown and, while I’m at it, take a good long look into his soul. “I assure you, sir, this is not a joke and I am not a teenager. Would you like to see my identification?”

  He squirms a little and harrumphs, “Aw, forget it. Still don’t understand why you brought her in, Ken.”

  Hitchcock places a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Because I trust her judgment in business dealings. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Bill isn’t happy but, thankfully, shuts the hell up.

  Oscar leans across the table and looks into my eyes with a seductive smile. “Melanie, I think you must be very intelligent for a businessman like Mr. Hitchcock to have such trust in you. I am impressed.”

  If you only knew, Oscar. I give him a big, cheesy smile. “Thank you.”

  I think I detect a slight accent in Oscar’s syntax, but need to hear more to make sure. I’ve already had the opportunity to map the landscape of both men’s souls. If they lie, I’ll know it.

  Hitchcock says, “So, let’s get started. I need to make sure you have adequate funds to pay for the product. You told me some of money is in offshore accounts. How do I know you have access?”

  Bill narrows his eyes. Damn, he’s making me work way too hard.

  He said, “If w
e didn’t have the funds, we wouldn’t be here.”

  Oscar adds in his silky tone, “Your insistence on cash added a layer of difficulty for us.”

  “The accounts are in both your names?” Hitchcock asks.

  “We have accounts under a number of names,” Oscar says. “But, no worries. The money is available.”

  Bill leans back and folds his arms across his chest. “Before we come to an agreement, we want to inventory the product.”

  “No problem,” Hitchcock says. “I’ll take you there shortly.”

  He glances over at me. “Mel, I believe you said you have another appointment.”

  I nod like a bobble-head doll.

  He says, “I have a message I’d like you to deliver for me. Will you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?”

  In the hall, Hitchcock says, “Well?”

  “They’re both shady characters, but you already know that. To answer your question, they have the money.”

  His eyes gleam with avarice. “Thank you.”

  “Now,” I say. “What’s the message you want me to deliver?”

  He chuckles, “Guess you weren’t looking into my soul. It was a lie. Enjoy your time with the twins.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  As Chad walks me down the trail to the school, I feel guilty for having been part of the transaction, like I’ve aided and abetted a pair of criminals, not to mention Hitchcock and his obvious greed. I only hope I’ll have a chance to redeem myself.

  School’s out so I have more time with Kimber and Gunner. Recalling my dream, I ask if they know about the cougar.

  Gunner straightens up to his full height and puffs out his chest. “Yes, I look everywhere when we go outside. I tell Kimber, no going off the path looking for wildflowers. It’s my job to protect my sister.”

  It seems like Gunner is getting stronger, back to his old self. Maybe Hitchcock wants him to look good for his new family. I should be happy for them, but all I feel is a sense of loss. Kimber is still clingy. Blossom Bunny is clamped under one arm while she grips my hand with the other.

  She says, “I wish you lived here, Mel. Then, me and Gunner could stay with you.”

  Her voice is wistful and tugs at my heart. “I’m afraid I can’t, sweetie. I have a job and a home in 3 Peaks.”