by Jim Moens
Ayala smiled sweetly. “Of course,” she said.
Desmond steered Dennis to a far corner of the living room. Time for a private chat.
“I admit I was skeptical,” Desmond began. “This foreign girl and her gypsy family, but I have to admit you found yourself a lovely young lady. She might make you a fine wife.”
“I'm nineteen, Grandfather.”
“Yes, and perhaps it's time to start thinking ahead. One day, you'll be running the quarry, you know. One day you'll want children and a family.”
Dennis knew that eventually the torch would be passed his way, but that day seemed so remote. Suddenly he felt the anvil of familial obligation hanging over him by the thinnest of threads. Suddenly he knew why Grandfather's harshness had been dialed back for the evening.
“Dean will never be the one to carry on the Schmidt name,” Desmond continued. “We all know that. We all know he'll never amount to anything, really. But you... I always knew you had potential. This is all going to be your responsibility. You understand that, don't you boy?”
Dennis nodded. “I do understand,” he said. He understood this was less about Ayala and more about family legacy and the Schmidt business empire. Desmond gave Dennis' shoulder a perfunctory squeeze.
“I should discuss some financial matters with your father,” Desmond said. “I'm glad we had this talk.”
“Thank you, Grandfather,” Dennis said. He turned and saw Ayala across the room, deep in conversation with his mother. Helen appeared to be introducing Ayala and her sisters to the myriad of wonders contained in her curio cabinet. Dennis caught Ayala's eye and she gave him the briefest of smiles and turned her attention back to Helen. Dennis' enthusiasm for one day steering the Schmidt family empire had always been minimal at best, but with the prospect of Ayala Cristescu at his side, it suddenly didn't seem quite so awful.
Dean, just around the corner, took a deep, unsteady breath. Each of Desmond's words was a dull knife driven straight into his heart.
CHAPTER TEN
The voices got louder and louder. Doug's curiosity about what was at hand became concern. Suddenly, Shirley Patton burst out of Brian's office, tears running down her red face. She glanced at Doug then turned around to face Brian again.
“I told you no,” she shouted. “I haven't done anything wrong, so I won't SIGN IT!!”
Brian emerged from his office. “Sign it or you're terminated,” he said. “Your choice.”
Shirley looked at Doug, then back at Brian. Doug wanted to slowly back away, but thought maybe he should punch in first.
“I was not insubordinate,” Shirley said, her voice suddenly quiet.
“You were,” Brian said, pointing a finger in her direction. “I gave you some specific instructions and you proceeded to tell me I was wrong and that you wouldn't do what I asked. That is, by definition, insubordination.”
“I won't sign it.”
“Then you're terminated.” And with that, Brian went back into his office, shutting the door behind him.
Shirley again turned to Doug.
“Shirley, I...” Doug began to say, but no other words were forthcoming.
Shirley blew past Doug and grabbed her coat. She walked off without saying a word.
“Shirley, wait!” Doug said and followed her.
Doug didn't catch up to Shirley until she was almost to her car.
“Shirley, one second, okay?”
She turned to face Doug.
“We can fix this,” Doug said, “I'll go talk to him, and--”
“Don't bother,” she said. “He cut hours... again. I was just trying to tell him, again, how hard it would be to maintain my area and help customers, and he just went off on me. I couldn't believe it.”
“Maybe you should say something to corporate.”
“Doug, I don't know what to do at this point.” She paused and wiped a tear from her eye.“Maybe it’s for the best that he fired me. I can't work with that guy. I just can't.”
“Well, you can't just walk away from a job you've had since you were sixteen,” Doug said.
Shirley didn't respond except to step forward and give Doug a quick but warm embrace.
“Tell the others I said goodbye.”
Doug watched as Shirley got in her car and drove off.
“So yeah, today was rough,” Doug said as he and Rebecca walked hand in hand. He had called her just as he got off work, and she suggested that they meet for a walk.
“Sounds like it,” Rebecca replied. “This Brian character sounds like an enormous asshole.”
“Yes he is.” Doug wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible from the day's unpleasantness. He fished through his pocket and handed her a couple pieces of folded up paper. “By the way, here you go.” He handed them to Rebecca.
“What's this?”
“Well, check it out,” Doug said.
Rebecca unfolded the paper and began reading. At one point she smiled.
“What do you think?” Doug said.
“I think you're a writer, Doug Schmidt.” She kissed him on the cheek. “And, as a nice bonus, you can spell. Being a good speller is actually kinda hot, in case you were wondering.”
“You're quite a catch, you know that?” Doug said.
“You sure about that?”
“Pretty damn sure,” Doug said, leaning in and returning her kiss.
“I have issues, you know.”
“Issues? You have issues?”
“I was engaged a little over a year ago,” she began, “and he left me about four months before we were supposed to be married. He told me he wanted to be with 'a real woman' and almost immediately moved back in with his old girlfriend. I was, of course, completely devastated. So basically... you terrify me.”
“You do know he's an idiot, right?” Doug said.
Rebecca shrugged.
“I have issues too, you know. About four years ago, Frankie's mother decided to move to Milwaukee on more or less a whim, leaving us behind. My grandfather is in prison for life for murdering three people during an armed robbery. My father has been on disability for the last couple years because of his back and basically doesn’t do much but watch TV and do word search puzzles. My mother pretty much lives by the advice of her psychic. Oh, and my sister died ten years ago and my parents usually act like she never existed.” Doug paused. “So yeah, I have issues too.”
“Sounds to me it's more like everybody around you has the issues,” Rebecca said.
“Maybe.”
They walked in silence for a moment.
“I'll make you a deal,” Rebecca said. “If you don't mind me being terrified of you, I won't mind all your... stuff.”
“I think I can do that.” Doug said.
“I'm guessing it will be worth it,” Rebecca said and gave Doug's hand a squeeze.
Xen blocked the Dragon Lord's swing with her own sword. Both took a step back, still brandishing their weapons.
“It's apparent that we're at a stalemate with our strength and skill,” Dragon Lord said. He smiled slightly, just revealing a row of fangs. “Perhaps I should try a different strategy.”
“Surrender?” Xen said.
“Of course not,” the Dragon Lord replied. “I'll attack your mind.”
“My mind?” Xen said.
The Dragon Lord sheathed his sword. His eyes began to glow.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Frankie said, looking up from her latest Lego project, this time an enormous, multi-colored castle.
“I'm writing a story,” Doug said.
“About what?”
“About Xen the Warrior, actually.”
“For serious?” Frankie said.
“For serious,” Doug said. “A... a friend suggested I try to make a book about Xen. I thought I'd give it a shot.”
“Can I read it when you're done?”
“Of course. I was thinking maybe even you could help me write some of it.”
“For serious?”
> “For serious,” Doug said.
It was harder than normal to get Frankie to sleep, excited as she was about writing some Xen the Warrior adventures with Doug. Doug finally got her to settle in after the promise of working on the Xen book the next night (subsequent to any and all homework being done, of course).
Doug wrote for a short while, until he started to doze off at the keyboard, having accidentally typed “Dragon Lord” as “Dragon Looooooooo”. He corrected that little error and settled in for the night himself. He fell into a deep sleep quite quickly.
He woke up in broad daylight and oddly, he was on the front steps of the public library downtown. He stretched, stood up, and began to walk around. Even stranger than having inexplicably woken up outside, was the fact that the downtown area was completely deserted in the middle of the day. Not a living human soul in sight.
“Hello,” Doug cried out. “Can anyone hear me? Anyone?”
“I can hear you.”
Doug, startled, turned to see who it was behind him. A tall, well-built man, dressed in black from head to toe, stood mere feet from him. The man's face was expressionless, yet Doug could sense something unpleasant, something angry even, just below the surface.
“Who are you?” Doug said as he involuntarily took a step back.
“Some call me Damon,” the man said.
“Uh... okay. Damon. What's going on?”
“Nothing,” Damon replied, gesturing broadly. “It's a beautiful day, don't you think?”
“I suppose,” Doug said. “But maybe I should just be on my way.”
Doug turned and started walking back the way he came.
“You're at a tipping point, you know,” Damon said.
Doug stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Damon.
“A tipping point? What does that mean?”
“You're at a point in your life that things could easily go one way or another. Do you understand?”
Doug turned around again without replying. Suddenly Damon was in front of him again, mere inches away.
“Oh shit,” Doug said under his breath.
“Do you understand, Doug? I really don't think you do,” Damon said, a hint of anger starting to break through his impassive demeanor.
Doug stepped off to the side in order to walk around the stranger. Damon grabbed Doug's arm and tried to force him to the ground. Doug responded by smashing his fist into Damon's chin. He was barely able to pull away and step back. He stood ready, in a fighting stance he hadn't practiced in years.
“Who the hell are you?” Doug said, his teeth clenched in anger.
“Are you sure you can pull off the Bruce Lee stuff?” Damon said. “After all, it's been ten years.”
“It's like riding a bike,” Doug said.
“We'll see,” Damon said.
Damon swung his beefy arm at Doug, who blocked it easily. Doug immediately twisted on one foot and drove the other heel into Damon's midsection. Damon didn't quite double over as Doug had hoped, so he immediately leaped up and caught Damon in the temple with a flying kick. The force of the kick pushed Damon through the front window of Adolfo's Restaurant. Doug raised his arms to block the flying glass. Damon landed face first next to the maitre d’ station.
“Yeah... I think I pulled it off, bitch.”
Damon pushed himself up by one arm and slowly stood. He brushed the broken glass off himself and turned to Doug. His face was a mass of small cuts. He pulled a piece of glass out from his eye.
“Is this how you want it Doug?” Damon said, pulling another piece of glass from his cheek. “Fine then. I hope you're ready for what's coming.”
Doug awoke with a start. It was 2:28 in the morning. He didn't get back to sleep for almost two hours.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
1951
The farmhouse was less than a mile from the Cristescu campsite. It was in a state of disrepair, as it had been abandoned many years prior. The main door was immobile, so the only access was through one of the windows. The hayloft was dicey, but usable, if one was cautious enough. The building certainly wouldn't provide adequate shelter during a storm, as there were several large holes in the roof.
Dennis and Ayala didn't care. It was their place to be alone with one other. They would most frequently sit square in the middle of the ground level, usually with Ayala reclined against Dennis had his arms wrapped gently around her. Dennis especially liked to go there around dusk, because the setting sun would fall right on them through one of the gaps in the roof. He could stare at Ayala's face in the orange glow forever.
“What are you thinking?” Dennis said as he stroked her hair.
“Nothing, really,” Ayala said. “I'm just enjoying being here with you.”
Dennis smiled. “Me too.”
Minutes passed. They never felt they had to be engaged in conversation every moment they were together. Being near one another was at least enough.
“You know, I have a present for you,” Dennis said.
“For me?”
“Yes, for you,” Dennis said and chuckled. “You want it?”
“I do.”
Dennis reached into the side pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a small box covered in pink velvet. He held it in front of Ayala.
“Dennis? What... what is this?”
“Open it and see.”
Ayala took the box and opened it slowly. Within was a ring, a band of gold with three diamonds set into it. A tear rolled down Ayala's cheek.
“Dennis--”
“Ayala Cristescu... I love you more than I ever imagined I could love anyone.” Dennis paused and took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
Ayala leaned back and kissed Dennis on the cheek. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course.”
Dennis took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Ayala's finger. It fit perfectly.
“We should probably go talk to papa about this,” Ayala said as she marveled at the ring.
“I already talked to him,” Dennis said. “I actually asked for your hand in marriage.”
“How very old-fashioned of you,” Ayala said with a giggle.
“He was very appreciative that I asked first.”
A silent moment, then, “I truly love you, Dennis Schmidt.”
“I love you too,” Dennis said. He kissed Ayala on the neck and she drew in a deep, slow breath. He ran his hands along her legs then slid out from under her. He looked down at her face in the orange glow of the twilight. She smiled and put a hand to his cheek. He kissed her, lightly at first, then a lingering passionate kiss that quite literally took her breath away.
They were grateful they were alone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Somebody's in a good mood today.”
Rebecca, lost in her work, was a bit startled by the voice behind her. She turned to face Helen Godwin. Helen taught fifth grade at Franklin Elementary. She was beloved by students and parents alike for her caring nature and patience. Helen had been at Franklin for nearly thirty years, so she had taught many of the children of former students.
“I am,” Rebecca said, grinning shyly.
“You're almost giddy,” Helen said. “What gives?”
“I... well, I might have met someone.”
“Did you really? Details, please.”
“His name's Doug. He's smart and handsome and nice.” Rebecca paused and adjusted her glasses. “I actually met him through my brother.”
“Really?” Helen said.
Rebecca nodded. “They work together at Nick's new job.”
“Somebody in retail,” Helen said. “I thought you'd go for more of the professional type.”
“Last time I went for the professional type, it didn't end so well,” Rebecca said.
“I suppose,” Helen said.
“And he's an excellent father,” Rebecca said. “You'll probably have his daughter in your class next year.”
“Well, be careful with that,” Helen said. “It's no picnic being a stepparent,
believe you me.”
“I didn't say I was going to marry him. We've only been out on a couple dates.”
“I'm just saying, you have to be mindful of the future.”
The two of them were silent for a moment
“Well listen,” Rebecca said, “I need to finish barcoding these books. Maybe I'll catch you later.” She turned back to her computer.
Helen stood by Rebecca's desk for a moment, unsure of what she said or did. She was only trying to help, after all.
“You get back to it, then,” Helen said and walked off.
“What's up, bud?”
Doug looked up from the sheaf of papers he was going through, a print-out of all the price changes and stocking research he needed to do. He nodded as Nick approached the camera counter.
“Hey, Nick,” Doug said.
“So what the hell did you do to my sister?”
“What do you mean?” Doug said.
“The girl can't stop smiling,” Nick said. “I haven't seen her like this in... well, quite awhile.”
Doug smiled slightly and returned to his printouts.
“So what have you got there?” Nick said.
Doug sighed. “Just all this stupid crap I have to do and I don't really have the time to do it all.”
“What's the matter with you, Mr. Grumpy Pants?”
“Sorry,” Doug said, “I just slept lousy last night. Had really weird dreams.”
“Well, maybe I can help you with some of that stupid crap you have to do,” Nick said.
Doug looked through the print-out once again. “How would you like to learn about price changes?”
“Yeah. Let's do this,” Nick said as he clapped his hands together.
Dale heard a knock on the door just as the evening news started.
“Can you get that?” Karen shouted from the kitchen, “I'm in the middle of stirring the sauce.”
Dale stood. “Fine. I'll get it,” he said. There was another knock. “I'm coming!”
He reached the door and opened it slowly. There stood Nina, flanked by two very tall, very thin and very identical young men with very dour faces.
