Hope and Honor

by Marilee Brothers

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “What, exactly, did he say?”

  “That he wanted them in a traditional family. Mother and father.”

  “Did he say where?”

  I think about my last conversation with Hitchcock and his attempt to entice me to move. “I assumed he was referring to New Dawn. Why?”

  “He’s got a deal going with people in Portland who are willing to pay big bucks for the twins.”

  Black spots dance before my eyes as the blood leaves my brain. My knees buckle and I sit on the edge of the bed. I whisper, “He’s selling them?”

  “Yeah, I thought you should know. I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Wait!” I desperately try to come up with something to keep her talking. I recall Hitchcock’s words. We have a number of single men at New Dawn who need a wife. Anna is a single woman. “Anna, why aren’t you married? Hitchcock says there’s a bunch of eligible men. If you married, you could keep the kids.”

  “Long story,” she says and clicks off.

  I punch in her number, but she doesn’t answer.

  Sleep doesn’t come easy. I toss and turn, punch my pillow and finally drift off into dreams jumbled with disturbing images of Kimber and Gunner being dragged into a car by a well-dressed middle-aged couple. Kimber is clutching Blossom Bunny and crying. Gunner, still dressed in camo, looks pale and defeated.

  I fight my way to consciousness. It’s still dark and I’m exhausted, but unwilling to slip back into dreamland. I opt for coffee instead. Seated at the table, I check the messages on my phone.

  Nick. Last night. Eight-thirty p.m.

  —Need some advice about Ziggy.—

  Damn, when did I turn into The Designated Advisor of Teenage Girls?

  ****

  “How long has she been gone?”

  We’re done prepping for the lunch crowd and taking a break before the doors open.

  Nick says, “Since last night. She left me a note.”

  He slaps a sheet of paper on the bar. It says, “I’m spending a few days with a friend. No biggie. Don’t panic. Just needed a little time off. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  I study the note, obviously written on a computer with a word processing program. The only hand-written item is the large Z scrawled at the bottom in black ink. I splay my hand across the paper. “Do you think she wrote this?”

  Nick nods.

  “Does she have access to a computer and printer?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “In my office.”

  “And, you have no idea who the friend is?”

  He shakes his head. “Is it time to panic? Call the cops?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I think about the note, how easy it would be for anyone to type it up, print it out and sign it with a Z. “Does she usually sign her name with a Z?”

  Nick shrugs. “Hell if I know. She never left me a note before.”

  “Do you want to report her missing? I can call Billy, ask him how it works.”

  He says, “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet, so they probably won’t consider her a runaway, especially with the note she left. I’m thinking, give it another day and see what happens.”

  “Okay, fingers crossed.”

  Billy comes in for lunch. I want to tell him about Ziggy, but he has another agenda.

  “You planning on going up to New Dawn again?”

  “It depends.” I fill him in on the soul reading I’m doing for Hitchcock. “It’s the only way I can see the kids. And, I have to see the kids.”

  His forehead furrows in suspicion. “Have you seen anything shady at New Dawn?”

  I think about what I observed in the call center, and my last meeting with the two guys paying big bucks for product. I’d like to dump all this information on Billy, but I can’t. I don’t want to jeopardize our tentative, new relationship. If I share my sketchy knowledge, he’ll jump in with both feet. Then, I’ll have to sneak around in order to see the kids. I pick my words carefully. “I have no definite proof of any wrong doing, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  “Do you feel safe there?”

  “So far, I do.”

  “What do you mean, so far?”

  I put a hand on my hip and cop an attitude. “Hey, you’re talking to a girl who can field strip a Glock and recite the Twelve Golden Rules of Safe Gun Handling.”

  He chuckles. “But, can you shoot one?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Is it on your person? Can I pat you down?”

  I fake-punch his shoulder. “Not on my person, but you can still pat me down.”

  His eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Hold that thought.”

  He leaves a twenty-dollar tip on the table. I catch him at the door and try to give it back. “It’s too much.”

  He waves me off. “My choice. Live with it.”

  As I clear off the table, Nick saunters over. “You two back together?’

  “We’re working on it. It’s a little awkward right now.” I describe the wooing process Billy is so fixated upon.

  When he stops laughing, Nick says, “I have an idea.”

  He leans close and whispers his suggestion.

  At first, I gasp in surprise. Then, I think it over. “Brilliant,” I say.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  During my break, I attempt to contact Hitchcock. After talking to Anna, I’m hearing tick, tick, tick. How much time remains before he decides to make money selling a couple of cute little kids? In our conversation yesterday, I told him I’d think about moving to New Dawn, even though I have no intention of doing so. Still, I have a skill set he wants. I need to take advantage of it as long as possible. He’s using the twins as a pawn. In spite of Anna’s fears, I don’t think he’ll act if there’s a possibility of luring me to the compound.

  His phone goes to voice mail. I leave the following message. “Ken, I’m arranging my work schedule for next week and need to know if you’ll require my services. Please let me know.”

  I check every fifteen minutes for a reply, to no avail. Therefore, I’m free to carry out the plan suggested by Nick. I send a text to Billy.

  —I’m off at midnight. If so inclined, meet me in Number Ten.—

  His response is lightning fast.

  —I’m SO inclined.—

  I give Nick a thumbs up and at eleven thirty, he hands me the key to unit number ten. “Take off. You need to get ready.”

  I look down at my Nick’s Pub pink T-shirt, jeans and apron. “Yeah, I look real sexy.”

  Nick guffaws. “Somehow, I don’t think it will matter.”

  I smooch his bristly cheek. “I’ll check with you tomorrow and see if Ziggy is back. If not, we need to contact the authorities.”

  One of his eyebrows shoots up. “Unless I’m mistaken, one of the authorities will be available in Number Ten.”

  My face heats up and I mutter, “Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

  His laughter follows me as I exit through the kitchen.

  When I unlock the door to Number Ten, I’m swamped with a tsunami of emotions. This was my first home away from home. I’d arrived in 3 Peaks with little but the clothes on my back. Even with my lack of waitressing experience, Nick hired me and gave me a place to call home. Yes, I’ve paid my dues. Under the iron thumb of Connie, Queen of the Motel Maids, I earned my keep, cleaning up more than one disgusting room. Fortunately, I’ve become more valuable as a server and no longer under the thumb of Queen Connie.

  Number Ten has history. If the walls could talk, I’d be blushing. Billy and I first got together in Number Ten and I remember every teensy detail. The heat had been building between us and it was inevitable we would act upon it. Billy was experienced. I was the novice. Not that I was virginal, but most of my encounters had been in haste, fumbling in the cramped back seat of various and sundry automobiles. In other words, Billy initiated me into the joys of sexual union. His goal was to make me happy. And, he did, at least, until he cheated on me. No, I haven’t forgot
ten. I wish I could, but I can’t. But, I will do my best to put it out of my mind tonight.

  In all fairness, as I step into the shower, I wonder if Billy is thinking about Mick, like I’m thinking about his fling with Haley, last name unknown. It’s hard to forget and forgive when the love of your life cheats on you. I know he was screwed up with PTSD at the time, but a little nagging voice in my brain says, “What if he does it again?”

  Note to self: ask Billy what he thinks about my relationship with Mick. Do you really want to know, Mel? Yes, I do.

  Squeaky clean and sprawled on the bed, I check my messages, hoping to hear from Ken Hitchcock. Nothing. I’m tempted to call Anna and check on the twins, but come on, it’s almost midnight. Not much I can do until tomorrow. Let it go, Mel. You can cut loose once in a while.

  Billy arrives at five minutes after midnight, another bouquet of red roses clutched in his hand. I answer the door with a towel wrapped around the essential parts. His eyes widen in appreciation.

  “You didn’t have to bring roses,” I say. “I still have the ones from yesterday.”

  He says, “I’d like to bring you roses every day.”

  I take the roses to the bathroom, put some water in the basin and make sure the stems are covered.

  When I return, Billy holds out his arms. “Get in here, Minnie. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  I step into his embrace. The towel falls to the floor. He sweeps me up and sits on the edge of the bed with me on his lap.

  “Talk first,” he says.

  Safe in his embrace, I look into his eyes and smile.

  He meets my gaze without hesitation. “Isn’t it about time to tell me what you see?”

  I think about my options. I can tell him what I see, or I can fudge a little as I did before. L-O-V-E. Such a little word. So easily uttered insincerely by people with an agenda. I believe I’m seeing the real thing in Billy’s soul, but what if I’m wrong? Maybe Billy is thinking about all the beautiful roses he wants to bring to me. I decide to go for it. “I’ve seen the same thing in your soul for the last few months. I didn’t know what it meant and asked Steve.” I pause and take a deep breath.

  He says, “What did you see?”

  I describe the crimson rose, how it floated across his soul, and is now in a fixed position with golden highlights.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  I nod. “Yes. It’s a very good thing. I don’t want to tell you what you feel and, if I’m wrong, no hard feelings.”

  He sets me down on the bed and cups my face in his hands. “You don’t have to say another word. The rose is a symbol and what you’re seeing is my love for you.”

  My chest feels tight. Tears well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. “Yes.”

  He leans closer until his lips are against my ear. “You don’t need to read my soul to know that.”

  I know the response he’s looking for. I love Billy. I do. But, it will take time for me to regain trust and utter the words. Thankfully, he understands. He stretches out next to me. I feel him shaking with need. When I look into his soul, I see desire burning hot and barely under control.

  I lever myself up on one elbow and stare down at him. “You’re still fully clothed. Why?”

  He needs no more encouragement and strips off his clothes. He is lean, muscular and magnificently aroused.

  I hold out my arms, inviting him in. “Wow, I think you’re glad to see me.”

  “You have no idea.”

  His lips are warm as he trails kisses down the length of my body. “You first,” he murmurs. “You first. Always.”

  His warm, moist lips linger on my belly a little longer than necessary. I twitch and moan. He looks up and we make eye contact. I see the old competitive gleam is back. For a brief moment, I wonder if he’s thinking, I need to be better at this than Mick, and I almost smile. But then, his lips move lower and I’m in a fever of need. His warm, wet tongue flicks over the heated, sensitive bit of flesh so eager for his touch. I stiffen as my climax sweeps over me in waves of ecstasy, stealing the breath from my body.

  True to form, he holds off on his own desire until he’s sure I’m fully satisfied. He covers my body with his, taking care not to crush me with his weight. I welcome him into my body in the familiar way of experienced lovers.

  Later, much later, I murmur, “Now what?”

  He props himself up and gazes down at me. “Have you heard from Mick after he moved?”

  “He texted me a few times. Nothing lately.”

  He shakes his head as if he can’t believe it. “I would never leave you behind, Minnie. Never. If I needed to move for a job and you decided not to go with me, I’d stay. That’s a promise.”

  I gaze into his soul and know the words he uttered are sincere. “I believe you. I just need a little time to sort things out.”

  “Take all the time you want.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m competing with another guy for your attention. I think it’s a pair of five-year-old twins. Tell me about them.”

  My heart is full and the words spill out like water bursting from a high-pressure hose. “Oh, Billy, they’re so sweet and I love them so much.” I tell him about their past, how Jake Gunderson raised them as his own and now, about their precarious situation living with Anna in the school house. Finally, I finish with “Anna says Hitchcock has plans to sell them.”

  Billy frowns down at me. “You can’t sell kids. It’s against the law.”

  “I’m sure he’s figured out a way to make it legal.”

  Billy turns me over until we’re in a spooning position. He’s quiet for so long, I think he’s fallen asleep. Finally, he says, “So, do you have a plan?”

  Good question. “I’m working on it.”

  He sighs. “That’s what I thought. I’ll help if I can.” His breathing evens out as he drifts off to sleep.

  Not me. My mind is still racing and I realize Kimber and Gunner are not the only worry keeping me awake. I blurt, “Ziggy took off.”

  Billy awakes with a jerk. “Huh?’

  After I fill him in on the latest Ziggy crisis, he says, “Aw, give it a rest, Minnie. It’ll wait until tomorrow. After twenty-four hours, Nick can report her missing.”

  My mind doesn’t work that way. Once I start fretting about something, sleep is not an option.

  After Billy is sleeping soundly, I slip from his embrace and go to the window. I part the drapes and peer through the crack. It’s well after midnight. Most of the hard-core drinkers have split and the motel is flashing a no vacancy sign. I smile as I spot Thunder Paws sitting on the back steps of the pub, waiting for a handout. Is it possible I miss living in a motel?

  Finally feeling drowsy, I’m ready for bed. As I release the drapes, I glimpse a car pulling into the parking lot. I pull the drapes apart again and spot an old junker car with primer on the sides and a tan, flaking vinyl roof. I know this car. It belongs to green-haired Benny. Is he the friend Ziggy is spending time with? I watch as it stops, make a U turn and drives slowly out of the lot. Benny is clearly alone.

  Where the hell is Ziggy?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Billy has an early shift and leaves before I’m awake. When I pry my eyes open, I find a note pinned on his pillow.

  “Hey, Minnie Mouse,

  Sorry to bail out so early. I made coffee. I’ll check with you later. Let me know if you need help with Ziggy.”

  The note is signed with a giant, somewhat egotistical, B to which he’s added a pair of legs astride a Harley Davidson. The note ends with a string of hearts pierced with arrows, followed by multiple X’s and O’s. I can’t help but snicker. Who knew Billy was so creative?

  Over coffee, I check my messages. Nothing from Hitchcock. I try calling him again. He doesn’t answer. I leave another message, even though I’m afraid it sounds a bit desperate. “Still waiting to hear from you. Let me know if you need me next week.”

  I follow up with a call t
o Nick. “Ziggy back yet?”

  “Nope. I called the school. She didn’t show up.”

  A half-baked plan is forming in my tired brain. I need to follow up with Benny, see what he knows. Ethically, I need to keep Nick in the loop. “Last night, I saw one of Ziggy’s friends pull into the parking lot. She wasn’t with him, but he might know something. I know where he lives. If it’s okay with you, I’ll pay him a visit.”

  “Damn, girl, would you do that for me?” The relief is palpable in his voice.

  I know I’m enabling him. Nick’s the dad. He’s the one who should be out searching for his daughter. I can’t help myself, because I remember how screwed up I was when I was sixteen. But then, I had Sandra, who would move heaven and earth to save me. Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose. Ziggy already hates me. Maybe I can salvage her relationship with Nick.

  As I gather my belongings and head for the door, my ears are assaulted by a familiar squeak, squeak, squeak. It’s a sound I know well. Connie, Queen of the Motel Maids is pushing her squeaky-wheeled cleaning cart, making her rounds. I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to pass by, after which I’ll zip out the door and dash to the car. At least, that’s my plan.

  The sound stops directly outside the door of Number Ten, blocking my escape route. Then, the jangle of keys and the door flies open.

  Connie, now sporting bright red hair streaked with pink highlights, screeches, “Ay, caramba, it is you! Why you back? Want a job? Number twelve needs cleaning.”

  I shake my head. “Just visiting.”

  She cocks her head to one side and studies the bed. “Si, I think Billy the Keed is still in your life. Billy the Keed is macho man. Is Connie right?”

  Unable to speak, I nod.

  She takes a step closer and lowers her voice to a seductive purr. “What about your Uncle Paco? Tell him Connie still has mucho caliente dreams about him.”

  All I want is to get the hell out of here, so I choose not to inform Connie of Paco’s marital status and impending fatherhood. “I’ll be sure to give him your regards, Connie. Gotta run. Bye.”

  Before she can press me into service, I slip by her and head for Buttercup. I fire up the engine and pull out into the traffic streaming by the pub. I’d like to go home and freshen up before launching into my plan, but somehow, I think earlier is better for what I’m about to do.