The Windchime Legacy

by A. W. Mykel

  “Hmmm,” she purred.

  He ran the edge of his hand up gently into her crotch. “Get your clothes off,” he said and smiled.

  They lay in each other’s arms for hours, as the afternoon slid by. The lovemaking had been exceedingly gentle, as Justin’s ribs hurt considerably more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

  He told Barbara about the vacation time he had saved up and had been offered as a part of a bonus for that last job. She jumped at the chance to put her free-lance writing aside and have him all to herself for so long.

  “Where should we go?” she asked, bubbling with a child’s enthusiasm.

  “Greece, Italy, Austria, Switzerland, France, Germany, England…Israel,” he called off, smiling.

  “I can’t decide. Which ones?” she squealed delightfully.

  “All of them. A week in each,” he replied.

  Her face was a mask of joyous disbelief.

  “And, if you wouldn’t mind,” he went on, “we could spend a week in Saudi Arabia.”

  “Saudi Arabia? Sure, anyplace you say,” she said. “I don’t care where we go, as long as we go. But…why Saudi Arabia?” she asked. “Not that I mind, but any special reason why there?”

  “Pappy’s there. Don’t you remember? I told you all about Steve being in Saudi Arabia.”

  “Yes, I remember. Your friend from college.”

  “Not just my friend from college,” Justin said. “He’s the best friend I have. He was my big brother when I pledged for the fraternity. There are a lot of years and a lot of memories that we’ve shared together.”

  There weren’t many people Justin considered real friends. Ted had been one. There were, perhaps, a few more from his fraternity days, but Steve was his closest.

  “I haven’t seen him in over a year. And I’ve written him about you. He’s dying to meet you. The opportunity is perfect, I’d hate to let it pass,” he said.

  “That would be fine.” She smiled beautifully.

  “Maybe we could start out in Saudi Arabia, then go to Israel, then Greece, then through Europe, finishing up with a week in England,” he proposed.

  He had something specific in the back of his mind when he said England.

  “How’s that sound, pretty lady?” he asked.

  “Oh, I love it!” she bubbled. “I can’t believe it. Nine weeks.” Her face grew suddenly serious. “That’s going to cost a lot of pesos, amigo. How are we going to afford all that? It’s got to cost—”

  He silenced her with a kiss.

  “Don’t worry about what it’s going to cost. I got a real fat bonus from that last job. I was on my way back when the accident happened,” he lied.

  “Oh, wow! But you’re going to save as much of that bonus as you can. We’ll bum it. Dungarees and sandals, all the way,” she insisted.

  “Hey, wait a minute. I’m offering a first-class deal. Start to finish,” Justin protested mildly.

  “Just being with you is first class,” she said, kissing him. “We’ll bum it. That’s the only way to see Europe. First class in Saudi Arabia, because of Steve. Bum it the rest. Deal?”

  He never could resist her charm. “Okay, it’s a deal. We’ll do it any way you want to,” he conceded.

  Later, after they had showered together, Justin started to get dressed. Barbara had wrapped his tender rib cage for him and put a fresh bandage on the hand.

  Justin had been right about the cut. It was closed into a thin, pink line. The doctor had done a good job. The sublayered stitches would be felt for a while, until they dissolved. All his cuts had been stitched closed beautifully. Only faint traces would show, once the redness disappeared, adding a certain handsome ruggedness to his face.

  Barbara began dressing, as Justin was getting ready to leave. He was going to pick up little Michael for the weekend. The dinner he had planned with Michael and his father was on for the next day. Barbara was going to meet him at his apartment after he picked up his son.

  “Bring clothes for the weekend,” Justin said. “I want you to stay at my place. Okay?”

  “I don’t plan on being out of your sight for more than an hour at any one time for the next nine weeks,” she said, giving him a catlike purr.

  Justin walked over to her and held her close to him. After several long moments, he looked down into her pretty blue eyes.

  “That’s not as long as I’d like it to be,” he said. “I had a more definite period of time in mind.”

  She stared up into his eyes, mist forming again in her own.

  “I want you to marry me, Jugs,” he said.

  Tears began flooding down her cheeks.

  “I’m not going to let you think that one over,” she said, through the tears. “I accept. I accept. I accept.”

  She jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him hard.

  She felt very small and warm in his arms. He wanted her so much that he could have squeezed her until she became a part of his body. But the ribs protested, and he lowered her.

  He was happier than he’d ever been in his life.

  “I love you, Jugs, like I’ve never loved anyone or anything in my life,” he said.

  “Come on, you big lug. Get out of here, before I tear your pants off again.”

  “We’ll have a long time for that,” he said. “A long time for one another from now on.”

  “A long time for one another,” she said, putting her head against his chest. She closed her eyes tight, to keep the tears from falling.

  The dinner wasn’t exactly what Justin had hoped it would be. Michael was irritable and cranky, his father seemed uncomfortable, and Justin felt ill at ease in his own apartment after what had happened there.

  He kept going into the bedroom to look around, making sure that there were no traces of his struggle with Ten Braak. Barbara hadn’t noticed the ashtray. It all looked right. But he felt strange in his apartment. Like being in a fish bowl.

  It wasn’t safe anymore. It wasn’t private. His sanctuary had been violated.

  The evening seemed to last forever. All he wanted was to be alone with Barbara. He felt like he didn’t know his father and Michael anymore. Or maybe it was that they didn’t know him—what he really was, what he did.

  The only saving grace of the evening had been Barbara. She kept things going, finding the right things to talk about and to do all night.

  But it finally ended. Justin took his father and Michael home and returned to the apartment with Barbara.

  The dreams of the faceless stalker returned that night. His mind kept thinking about his defenses, where the gun was, where the thermal mug was, where the ashtray was.

  Some defenses—a thermal mug and an ashtray.

  He finally fell into a deep sleep, with Barbara holding him in her arms. She woke him up at about 4:00 a.m. because he was thrashing about wildly, as though fighting with someone in his sleep.

  He held her tight, sweat covering his body. He lay in bed thinking about the windchimes, trying desperately to hear them. But they weren’t there.

  “Do you like windchimes?” he asked.

  “Hmm? What?” she asked, coming out of a light sleep.

  “I asked if you like windchimes?” he repeated.

  “Yes, I guess so,” she answered. “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “When I was a kid, we had windchimes on our back porch. I could hear them at night. They were soft and comforting. They used to put me to sleep.

  “I just thought that it would be nice to have them, to listen to them play their soft tinkling music at night. There’s a certain peace in their music.”

  “That would be nice,” she said sleepily.

  Yeah, that would be nice, he thought. If only he could hear them now.

  He hardly slept the rest of the night, finally nodding off as the morning sun began to fill the room.

  That morning he tried to call Steve in Saudi Arabia. But Pappy was out. He had a tape-answering system that took Justin’s
message as to the reason he called and asking him to please return his call at his earliest convenience.

  Justin and Barbara spent the whole next day making plans for their trip. They planned what clothes to bring, to keep their baggage light. They decided to rent a car, once in Europe, and drive across the countryside, stopping where their fancy dictated.

  Later that day, at almost seven, the phone rang.

  Barbara was in the kitchen making hot chocolate when Justin answered it.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “J.C.?” Steve’s voice sang out.

  “Pappy!” He recognized Steve’s voice immediately.

  The overseas operator cut in, to go through the formalities. Once they were completed, she got off the line.

  “Hey, little brother. How the hell are ya?” Steve boomed out. Steve was a giant of a man, standing a full four inches taller than Justin and having about forty pounds on him, forty very solid pounds.

  “I’m great. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you,” Justin said.

  “I know. You gotta remember that our times are almost reversed out here. I was out cattin’ around when you called.”

  Same old Steve. Always did have a weak spot in his pants for the ladies.

  “What time is it out there?” Justin asked.

  “Almost three in the morning,” Steve replied.

  “You just getting in?”

  “Nope. Just going out.”

  “Christ, you ought to get some sleep, you know,” Justin scolded jokingly.

  “No, this is business, little brother,” Steve said.

  “Business? At three o’clock in the morning? You mean monkey business,” Justin chided.

  “No, no.” Steve laughed. “This is business. I mean it. I’m leaving for a new drill site. I’m going to have to be out there for about three months. That’s why I’m calling at this ungodly hour. We’re not going to be able to get together for that vacation just yet. Can you put it off—maybe just a week of it—until I get back?”

  “Sure, that’s no problem,” Justin said.

  “That’s great. Listen, I’ll let you know by letter when I should be back in my digs and when the best time would be to come out,” Steve said.

  “Fine. You say in about three months?”

  “Yeah, if everything goes right. I’ll let you know for sure, though. Can that gal of yours make it then?” he asked.

  “She wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Justin said.

  “Great. I really want to meet her.”

  “You will, Pappy. We’re going to get married.”

  “Say again. You broke up a little for a second there,” Pappy said, referring to the crackling interference in the line.

  “I said, we’re going to get married,” he repeated more loudly.

  “Really? That’s great, little brother. Hey, listen. If Barbara doesn’t mind, I’d like to take you out when you’re here, for a little one-on-one bachelor party. Think she’d mind terribly?” Steve asked.

  “No problem, Pappy. As long as you bring me back alive and with no exotic diseases,” Justin said.

  Barbara was just coming in with the hot chocolate. “Hey, I don’t think I like the way that sounded,” she joked.

  “Is that her?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me talk to her a minute.”

  “Sure. Hold on.”

  Justin held out the phone to Barbara. “Here, get it from the horse’s mouth,” he said and smiled.

  Barbara took the phone. They talked like old friends for a few minutes, then she let out a little surprised scream and began laughing hysterically.

  Justin took the phone back. “Hey, what are you two up to?” he asked with a big smile.

  “That’s our little secret. You’ll find out when you get here. Listen, little brother, I have to go now,” Steve said.

  “Okay, Pappy. Hey, when are you gonna come home? I thought you were only supposed to be gone for a year?” Justin asked.

  “Can’t, not yet, anyway. I’m making too much money out here. I tell ya, I really got the good life. You’ll see what I mean when you come out. Looks like at least another year before I’d even consider it. We’ll talk more about it when you’re out here. In the meantime, little brother, take care of yourself and that gal of yours.”

  “I will, Pappy. You do likewise,” Justin said. “And don’t come back from the desert with camel clap or anything.”

  Steve laughed. “Not me, little brother. I’ll save the camels for you. I really look forward to seeing you, buddy.”

  “Me, too. Take care, Steve.”

  “Good-bye, little brother.”

  The phone clicked.

  “It was good to hear his voice,” Justin said.

  “You really love him, don’t you?” Barbara asked with a warm smile across her face.

  “Yeah, I do,” Justin answered, looking inward over a long collection of memories.

  “What was so funny before?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to wait until you get there,” she answered, with a catlike grin crossing her face. “I hope you like camels,” she laughed.

  Justin chased her around the couch. She ran, squealing delightfully, into the bedroom. She tried closing the door, but Justin was too fast and easily pushed his way in.

  Out of breath, she surrendered.

  “Camels, huh?” Justin said.

  “Well, you know what they say, ‘There’s no hump like a camel’s hump,’ ” she said, throwing her arms around Justin’s neck and then kissing him deeply.

  “Get naked,” she said.

  The thoughts of defenses and dreams of the stalker didn’t come that night. She had a way of making him forget, sometimes—like the windchimes.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  A Fourth Reich was beginning before our eyes. Invincible, unbeatable. A world of Aryan dominance without force. A world of perfect Aryans. Rulers.

  I nearly died that month from illness. But death and I were old friends. I had cheated him once thirty years ago. But I am no longer afraid. I could die at any time knowing that my dream is fulfilled, the promise kept.

  If only I could tell all those who died. I cry from joy.

  Entry No. 74 from the partially

  recovered Wolf Journal

  “Well, that finishes the list,” Barbara said, as she and Justin began walking across the sunny parking lot after leaving the Paramus Park Mall. Each carried several light packages.

  “We’re all set for tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll take our time packing today, and then go to bed early, so that we’ll be fresh in the morning for our flight.”

  The past week had gone quickly for them. Although they were traveling light, there were still a lot of preparations to be made for such an extended trip. The only advanced reservations that were made were their airline tickets and first-night accommodations in Israel and Greece. The rest would be played by ear, as they stopped where they liked, for as long as they liked.

  Moments later they were pulling out onto Route 17 south, heading for the Garden State Plaza and their last stop. Justin wanted to pick up some cigars at his favorite tobacconist, Wally Frank, Ltd.

  He preferred a special private stock, hand-rolled, that Wally Frank put his own label on. They weren’t expensive, as cigars go, but they suited his taste well, better, in fact, than most of the more expensive cigars he had tried.

  “Do you have some paper? I want to make a list,” Barbara said.

  “Another one? We’ve got twenty of them at home, already. You’ve been making lists all week,” he said.

  “Yes, I know. But, each time I made a new list, I was paring one down. I want to make the final packing list now. Then, when we repack as we go, we just have to check off the list to be sure that we don’t forget anything,” she explained.

  “I think there’s a small note pad in the glove compartment,” he said.

  She began rummaging through the glove compartment. “Umm
m. That looks like a good one,” she said, pulling out a fine-looking cigar.

  Justin recognized it immediately as one of two that Fanning had given him during the Ten Braak hunt. He had smoked one and saved the other. He couldn’t find it later. He must have stuck it there without thinking.

  “That is a good one,” he said. “A fella I know gave me that about three weeks ago.”

  “Here, smoke it. I love the smell of your cigars,” she said, handing it to him after unwrapping it.

  Justin took it, bit off a small piece of the end, and put the cigar between his teeth. He fished through his pockets for a match, but couldn’t find one. A second later Barbara handed him a matchbook she had found in the glove compartment.

  Justin held the cigar in his teeth for a while, thinking about Ted. Every time something reminded him of his dead partner, it struck home with a fresh realization that it had all really happened.

  Barbara found the note pad and began preparing her list.

  Justin struck a match and raised it.

  Here’s to you, Ted, he thought. He pulled gently on the cigar, drawing the flame to the fat tip. Aromatic puffs of smoke began to fill the car. Justin opened the window a crack to let the smoke out.

  “Gee, that really does smell good, honey,” she said. “Your friend certainly has good taste. Why don’t you get some of those at Wally Frank’s,” she suggested.

  “They don’t carry them. They’re Cuban, I think. He told me that he picked them up in England. Private stock of some tobacconist.”

  “Do you know where he got them? I mean, who the tobacconist was?” Barbara asked.

  “Nope.”

  Barbara reached into the ashtray and pulled out the cigar ring that she had removed earlier.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to find. This looks like a pretty distinctive band,” she said. She handed it to Justin.

  He looked at it closely. It was distinctive. Very finely done. “That’s probably a trademark used by the tobacconist or the manufacturer. I’m sure we could find out where he got them.” He remembered then that he had put one of the bands in his wallet. The mark on the band seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Well, if you like them, we’ll ask around when we’re there. I think you should get some. They’re great-smelling cigars.”