by Jean Martino
She got up and raced to the window again. “When will they get here,” she cried, glancing out at the quiet tree lined street. “We should have gone to get them, Scott. We should have brought them back here last night.”
He walked over and put his arms around her as they both stared out the window. “Honey, try to relax. They will be here soon.”
She leaned back against him, knowing he was right. Michael and Cindy were free and safe, that’s all that mattered. She had to be patient...
“It’s them!” she cried as a taxi pulled up outside the house.
Before Scott could stop her, she raced to the door and threw it open as the tall olive skinned young woman with short black hair, and the tall well built, tanned young man with blond hair and the beginning of a growth of beard around his chin got out of the car.
“Cindy!” she cried, running down the path.
The young woman ran towards her, her face breaking into a smile. “Mom!” she yelled, and in seconds they were hugging and laughing and kissing and talking as the young man came up to them, dropping the suitcases on the ground and throwing his arms around his wife and mother-in-law. “Thank God you are alright,” Linda cried happily, hugging them both tightly.
Scott came up behind her and stood smiling at them, his heart reaching out to Linda for her happiness. She turned her head and saw him over Cindy and Michael’s shoulders and reached her hand out to him too. He took it and stood waiting. The world was right side up again for his Linda.
* *
Tuesday, July 1st
Scott’s once organized home had become cluttered and crowded. But he didn’t care. For the first time his house was alive with the chatter of happy women and men, all vying for attention, all trying to talk at the same time. Cindy and Michael had been moved into the guest room, all their belongings brought over from the cramped little apartment they had been hiding out in, in San Francisco.
For two days they had all been explaining to each other everything that had happened that had brought them together.
Scott had explained to Michael how Max had worked on Michael’s discs, that Benny had given him, to unravel the true identities of Michael’s investors. The newspapers and television news reports had been filled with details of the arrests of the underworld crime figures and Carl Denholm. Reporters had tried to interview Michael and Cindy, but been fended off by Scott, and soon they had given up and dashed off to other sources to get their stories.
“We knew you were in California,” Cindy told Linda, “But we didn’t know exactly where. All we knew was that Joe, Michael’s friend who lives in Australia, had gone to see you and learned you had flown to California.”
“Joe?”
“Yes, mom,” added Michael, looking like his old self again with all the hair shaved off his face. “I’ve known Joe since I was a kid back in Arizona. He moved to Sydney to live 5 years ago, married an Australian girl and works at the Commonwealth Bank.”
Linda started piecing it all together in her mind. “So you asked Joe to fly to Adelaide and go see me and... and then what? Would he have told me where you were if I had still been there?”
Michael shook his head. “We didn’t want to take the chance of getting you involved. In fact Joe didn’t even know what had happened. All he knew was that it was serious and I needed his help. He was supposed to just tell you not to worry, and that your investment money was safe---”
“In the Commonwealth Bank? In Sydney?”
“That’s right,” nodded Michael.
Linda frowned. “And how was he going to explain what had happened to you both and why my investments had been sold?”
“He was supposed to tell you something had happened to cause us to have to leave Newport Beach for the time being and assure you that we were alright,” said Cindy, “without giving you any other information, except of course that you have over a million Australian dollars in his bank under his management, converted of course from the US dollars we sent them less the monies left in Wells Fargo for possible taxes on your profit.”
Scott walked into the cluttered living room carrying a tray with cups of coffee and tea. “And I presume this Joe knew where you were in order to get back to you with the information your mother had flown here to find you,” he said, placing the tray on the coffee table.
“Not exactly,” said Michael. “We only communicated by public phone. My first call to him was at his bank in Sydney and I just told him to call a number here, which was to a phone booth in Frisco, at a certain time, from a phone booth in Australia. He knew something serious had happened but he knew whatever it was I would handle it. I know it sounds like cloak and dagger stuff, but remember we were dealing with underworld criminals and couldn’t take any chances. We were afraid even to use our cell phones so we turned them off when we left Newport Beach then threw them into the bay when we got to San Francisco.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry we caused you all this worry,” said Cindy. “We didn’t have a choice. When we left that morning I felt so terrible knowing how worried you would be when I didn’t arrive in Australia. I told Michael you’d come looking for us. Didn’t I, Michael?”
“She did,” he said. “When we reached San Diego, and decided to dump the car, she made that scratch on the side of the car, telling me that if you ever got to see it you would know and understand.”
Scott shook his head. “How did you know she would be able to look at the car even?”
“We didn’t,” said Cindy. “We just hoped somehow she would.”
“A long shot,” said Scott. “Luck was on your side for that one. But why San Diego?”
“That was my idea,” said Michael. “We were heading for San Francisco where I had friends in Haight-Ashbury who I trusted to help us. We knew Denholm would look for us and we wanted the car found in San Diego to throw them off our tails. When we got to San Diego I called a cab from a phone box to take us to the airport, and we locked the car and left it in that parking lot knowing it would be found and impounded.”
“I’m still a bit confused,” said Scott. “You lived in that Newport Beach house for almost two years and there was nothing there, except Cindy’s car, to prove you had lived there. You must have had some personal items gathered over that time. How did you get them all in your four suitcases?”
Michael shook his head. “It wasn’t easy, believe me. I knew before we even moved into that house that I had done the wrong thing. I was afraid to tell Cindy even. I thought it sounded like a good deal, give me a chance to put some money behind us.” He reached for Cindy’s hand. “I hated lying to her and pretending we owned the place, and then I was in too deep to tell her what a mess I had made of it all.”
Cindy squeezed his hand. “At first, when Michael told me we shouldn’t bring anything personal into the house I was totally freaked out. It sounded ridiculous to me. But Michael convinced me we should start from scratch and finally I agreed. It started to make sense. Our other stuff wouldn’t have fitted in well in that place anyway.”
“So we rented a storage shed over in Costa Mesa, and put everything in there before moving to the Newport Beach house, I mean everything,” said Michael. “Furniture, appliances, television set, stereo, the works.”
“Well we did sell a few pieces of furniture to the couple that bought our Huntington Beach house,” added Cindy.
Michael nodded. “But everything else we put in the storage facility. We only took our clothes and personal stuff we needed.”
“Which still had to have filled more than four suitcases,” said Scott.
“Considerably more,” said Michael. “When we decided we had to leave that house, we made several trips to the storage facility, usually late at night, until all we had left was what we could pack in those suitcases.”
Scott nodded. “And that file I found of your work papers?” he asked Cindy, “and your travel documents? Were they left on purpose?”
Cindy shook her head. “No, I had hidden that file next
to the computer tower because I hadn’t wanted Michael to see it at first. I had uncovered a few things about Carl Denholm when I was researching that assignment that made me feel suspicious. But Michael was acting so weird and I knew Denholm was one of his clients that I was afraid he would think I was spying on him too. And I couldn’t find where I had put those travel documents so Michael told me to forget it, that they had to be in the stuff we took to the storage place.”
“Well it was good that you forgot that file,” said Scott. “It was the key in helping me unravel some of the mystery of your disappearance.”
Linda shook her head. “I can’t believe what you both went through. But why didn’t you take your car too, Cindy?”
Cindy groaned. “We couldn’t because we didn’t want anyone to trace it. I really felt bad about leaving it. Then just before we left I thought about you, mom, and thought, what if mom decides to fly over here to find us. I knew you could get into the house so I left the keys in the glove compartment just in case. I wanted to leave you a note too, but we decided it was best if you knew nothing and then nobody would bother you.”
“So you mailed me that brochure from San Francisco to let me know you were there and not to worry?” said Linda.
“We didn’t know what else to do,” said Cindy. “Mom, I am so sorry we caused you all this worry. And I felt so bad leaving the beautiful couch and chairs you bought us in that house.”
Linda reached over and patted Cindy’s hand. “I know, honey,” she said. “But now the important thing is that you are both safe, and free to come out of hiding. Your folks, Michael, will be so happy to see you when they get here this afternoon. They have been through a lot too but your mother is a rock. She is so strong in her religion that she never doubted for one moment that you were safe. I talked to them every day. They gave me faith to believe too, even when I felt we would never find you again.”
A quietness fell over the four of them as they sipped their tea and coffee and thought about all that had happened over the last few days.
For Scott it was a relief that the FBI had now taken over the case and Denholm was in jail on multiple charges, including being under investigation for Roger McLean’s death and money laundering, but suspicion also that he had some connection to terrorist groups and their funding. He had been refused bail, and could no longer hurt Cindy and Michael. But now that they were safe and planning to move back to Newport Beach, what would Linda do? He didn’t want to lose her now. She had brought him to life again and he couldn’t let her walk out of his life now. But she also had the right to live her own life where she wanted without him getting in the way.
For Linda there were so many mixed emotions she had trouble unraveling them all. Cindy and Michael were safe, but now had to rebuild their lives, and Michael needed to get work again, which might be a bit difficult with the notoriety he had gained through the newspapers the last couple days. Could she just fly off back to Australia not knowing what they would do now? She looked over at Scott and her heart sank. How could she leave him now? He had worked so hard to save Cindy and Michael’s lives. And the thought of not being with him anymore caused a pain in her heart. But he had never mentioned anything about her staying and being with him. Not one word.
Cindy and Michael held hands and sipped their tea; neither wanted to think too hard about the future for now.
Feeling the heaviness settling around them, Scott stood up. “Well, what a glum group we are,” he said, grinning. “I think we should all try to look on the bright side and give thanks we are all together and safe.”
Linda stared up at him, her eyes mirroring the love she felt for this man who had done so much for her. “You’re right, Scott,” she said, smiling and standing up also. “We have to seize the moment and be grateful we’re together again. Now Cindy, let’s get going. We have to meet Maggie at the mall to buy something to wear tonight.”
Cindy leaped to her feet. “Oh, great! I need to get my hair fixed too.” She ran down the hall to get her purse as Michael stood up and carried the cups back to the kitchen before following her.
Scott put his arms around Linda and hugged her tight. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, trying to ignore the ache in her heart that wouldn’t leave until he told her he felt the same way about her as she did about him. “Of course,” she said smiling up at him. “This is the happiest time in my life. And it’s all due to you. Scott. How can I ever repay you for all you’ve done?”
“By going shopping and buying the prettiest dress you can find for tonight,” he said. “Now get going. Take as long as you need. I’ll take Michael to the airport to pickup his folks.” Dan and Jocelyn had flown in last night and were staying with Maggie. “You didn’t mention to them that Benny and his wife are flying in also?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said. “Benny didn’t want me to tell them.”
“My lips are sealed then,” said Scott, kissing her full on her lips.
She kissed him back, not concerned that Cindy had come back into the room and seen them. After all, she and Scott were sleeping in the same bed, in the same room, and she was not a child. She had tried to explain this to Cindy but Cindy had told her to not go there, that she was old enough to have a relationship without explaining it to her.
* *
The restaurant Scott had chosen for their dinner was on the outskirts of Sacramento; an intimate restaurant he had chosen because of it hominess. Heavy wood beams criss-crossed the ceiling, from which hung huge overflowing baskets of ferns giving it a green house look. Deep wine colored wallpaper covered the walls, which were then covered almost entirely with paintings of the early gold rush days Sacramento was famous for, intermingled with painted plates and wall hangings. He knew Linda would love it, and had reserved a table for sixteen.
Linda had never looked more beautiful to Scott as he sat at the head of the table, cluttered now with drink glasses, watching her, on his right, talking animatedly to Cindy; trying to explain as she had for the last two days since Cindy and Michael had moved into his house with them, how they had found them.
She was wearing a short black cocktail dress that Maggie had helped her choose when the women had gone shopping that afternoon. Her blue eyes were shining, and her now golden highlighted hair, fluffed softly around her flushed face, suited her. He listened to her laughing, thinking what a wonderful sound it was and how he had not heard it enough over the last two weeks.
Cindy, sitting alongside her mother, looked stunning in a white dress, her black hair framing her olive skinned face and her black eyes sparkling. On the other side of Cindy sat Michael in black slacks and a black roll top shirt beneath his gold wool blazer, talking as animatedly to Benny, whose wife, Rosie, sat, shyly listening and smiling at everyone. Across the table from them, on Scott’s left, sat Maggie, and he glanced at her with pride, thinking how beautiful she looked in her royal blue dress, as Matt, sitting next to her, listened curiously to all the conversations swirling around him. His eyes moved to Dan, who had entered the discussion Benny and Michael were having on computers across from him, his eyes excited as they talked. Jocelyn, sitting between Dan and Matt, and looking like she had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine in her off the shoulder black cocktail dress, was laughing at something Cindy had said.
He had never felt such love for his kids and pride in them as he did tonight. They had stood by him and helped him and Linda without question.
Less fashionably attired but reeking of good old American down to earth values, Michael’s parents, Geoff and Carmel Brampton, sat at the other end of the table, their eyes riveted on their son, their faces showing pride and relief. He had wanted to seat them up across from Michael and Cindy, but they had chosen to sit at the end; perhaps, he had thought, because their religious leanings didn’t allow them to approve of drinking. But they showed no disapproval either as they sat quietly with their glasses filled with fruit punch.
No one seemed to be concerned
that there were still four empty seats at the end; everyone was too busy talking and having fun.
He glanced around the restaurant at the few other tables filled now also with diners and felt pleased he had chosen this place for Linda to celebrate the return of her daughter and son-in-law. The meal had not been served yet. He turned to look at the entrance, glancing at his watch. Everyone was getting hungry, but he had to stall them for a little longer.
He picked up a spoon and hit the side of his glass then stood up; smoothing the jacket of his black tuxedo that Linda had begged him to wear earlier that evening, and which he had finally given in to her on. “I’ve never seen you in it except in that photo you had taken on that cruise you took to Alaska last year,” she told him. “I have dreamed of seeing you in it in real life ever since. You are a handsome man, Scott; so tall, and straight, and elegant.” And then she had added something that had made his heart stand still. “And I probably will never get the chance to see you in it again. So please wear it for me tonight.”
