CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Thackery and the Blue Guard
11:30 a.m.
Inside the Demitasse, I found a seat near the back where I could wait for Jason. Rather
than facing the wall as I always did, I looked out over the people as they came
and went and sipped their drinks. What looked to be a dad and his son were
sitting at a table across from me. Even though their emotions were stilted,
they were obviously enjoying each other’s company. The boy, about ten years
old, reached over and grabbed the last potato strip from his father’s plate,
then laughed. Dad rumpled the boy’s hair and smiled. A couple in the corner were
experiencing the beginning of an attraction neither seemed to understand nor
felt comfortable with. He kept averting her eyes and stared into his cup with a
hidden grin. I had to smile. Being part of the world was an amazing, new
experience. Maybe I had been aloof in the past, just as Jason had teased.
Then, a man entered the café
and looked directly at me without glancing away as most people did. He not only
kept his eyes fixed on me, he continued to approach me from yards away. I
squirmed a little in my seat as the bold, strange man continued toward me. In
the present era, men simply do not openly watch a Legacy woman. When he got to
my table, he leaned on it heavily with the knuckles of both his hands and
whispered.
“Hi, Gorgeous, I haven’t seen
that beautiful, shiny hair around town before.”
I was both irritated and
afraid. Men not only didn’t talk to Legacy women, they did not flirt—with
anyone. The truth was, in our current age, men simply didn’t have the emotional
capacity or adequate hormonal level to flirt.
How was I going to respond to
him? He frightened me in a way that made me want to run and hide. I thought of
my grandmother and the kind words she had for everyone while maintaining a
razor back dignity. Looking at the man with Grand-mère’s royal authority, I
spoke with all the confidence I could muster. “Young man, who are you and what
do you want?”
He grinned arrogantly at my
response. “Well done, My Lady.” Then he leaned in even further. “I wonder if
you have noticed how bright the lights are today. The reds and greens are
great.”
“Yes, but ―”
“Thomas thinks the blues are
casting dark shadows though.”
“Who are you?” I demanded. A
cold chill shot across my back and his mentioning Thomas’s name offered no
comfort. Maybe it was because my world had never been intruded on before and it
was now being bombarded with stimuli from every angle. I sipped on the water
the waitress had placed on the table, hoping to calm the sickening feeling that
refused to be controlled.
“I’m Thackery, Ma’am. A friend
of Sean’s.” Then he winked.
His brashness amazed me. “You
also have a friend at the medical center don’t you,” I said. It was a
statement, not a question.
He smiled mischievously. “You
mean . . . well never mind. You may be talking about someone or something else.”
“There are others?” I
whispered.
“There are many of us,
Christiana.” Again he smiled and then suddenly became serious. “Are you with us
or against us?”
“I’m just learning who us may be, Thackery.” My discomfort had
changed to interest but a measure of fear remained. I didn’t know what to think
about the man or of all the new people in my life. “I have one singular goal at
this time. Nothing else can get in my way, Thackery. I can tell you that.”
“I know My Lady,” He
whispered.
“What do you know?” I questioned
indignantly. I didn’t like his smugness. He seemed to know my mind before I
knew it myself.
Thackery boldly slipped onto
the chair next to me. “I know you have dear ones who will be celebrating their
birthdays very soon.”
“I don’t think I like your
knowing all about me and I know nothing about you.” The feeling of being spied
on crept in again.
“You and all the Elites,
Christiana. We may not be able to print your pictures in magazines that were
banned a long time ago, like the celebrities in ages past, but we still know.
The underground newspaper announces your every move, each and every event in
your life. You are our stars today, My Lady. It’s just against the law for us
to intrude on your privacy. You must not see us watching.”
I suddenly had a need to rub
the chill from my arms. “Being watched is just creepy,” I said.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I’m
not the focus of all that adoration.”
“Adoration? Thackery, is it
admiration? I thought it would be disdain, not respect.” My thoughts wandered
to the many times I knew I was being observed and my experience was not
Thackery’s experience.
“You don’t have to be afraid
of us, Christiana. But, have you noticed
the increase in Blue Shirts on the streets? There had been fewer last evening,
but now just before the holiday, there is definitely a stronger presence.”
“Until the last few days, I
don’t think I noticed anything going on around me.”
“I have. I don’t know what it’s
all about, but you’d better be careful. No smiling in public, no laughter, no
display of affection or emotion of any kind.”
“That’s hard to do.” I thought
of Jason.
“I know. When you have someone
in your life like the Doc, it’s hard not to smile all the time. Dahlia gives me
the flutters.”
“Dahlia?” I tried to show no
surprise then stopped. What had he just said before referring to Dahlia? “Wait!
Have you seen Jason and me together?”
“Many of us have, Ma’am.” He
lowered his voice to a whisper and looked around the room. “Do you still hear
the music?”
My heart stopped its beating
and my breath caught in my throat. “You know about the music?” I could not
resist rambling on. “Isn’t it the most miraculous sound you have ever heard?”
Then I stopped.
“What is it?” Thackery asked
without turning around. He slowly sat back in his chair, apparently not wanting
to give away any urgency in our conversation.
“Some high ranking Blue Shirt
has just come in,” I whispered, then unobtrusively dropped a detox table into
the water the waitress had previously placed in front of me. I held the glass
to my lips, hoping I could block any expression of curiosity or fear. “I’ve
seen him around town several times this morning, and I think last evening as
well.”
“A lot of people have.”
Thackery responded nonchalantly as if he were talking about the price of
peaches in the winter season. He smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the table
cloth. “Is he sitting down?”
“No, he’s coming this way.” I
stopped and replaced my glass on the table.
The Blue Shirt touched his hat
but didn’t remove it. “Ma’am.” He looked at me then at Thackery. “Is this man
bothering you?”
I had to think fast. Was he
asking me about my association with this man I had just met? I didn’t know who
Thackery’s friends were. If I responded in the affirmative, I may have admitted
to an association with those engaged in seditious actions or words. If I said I
didn’t know him, it might place Thackery in jeopardy.
“We have a mutual
acquaintance,” I said. “He was asking for a suggestion on a possible Gift Day
present for her.”
Stoner’s facial expression
never changed. With his steely eyes fixed on me, he demanded in a frighteningly
friendly manner, “And who might it be, Miss Applewait, that you both know?”
“Dahlia Zoobamba lives in my
building.” I responded confidently, then added. “She is also my physician’s
nurse.”
“Yes, I know. Dr. O’Reilly.”
“You know when I’ve gone to
the doctor?” I blurted out. I should have let the comment pass. I was close to
revealing an emotion I dare not display. Novels described it as anger.
“No Ma’am. I happen to know
that Dahlia Zoobamba is Dr. O’Reilly’s nurse.” He stared intently at me and
then asked? “What have you suggested?”
“About what?” I stammered.
“She thought Dahlia might like
a brightly colored silk scarf to wrap around her head in this cold weather.”
Thackery interjected.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Stoner
glared. Then he turned to me again. “That sounds fine, Ma’am. Just where might
one find such a scarf.”
“I was just in the boutique
down the street. They have a whole display of beautiful, brightly colored
scarfs in floral and geometric patterns.” Luckily I had just admired the scarfs
as I was leaving the shop.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll check on
that.” He looked at me again and stated flatly as if he were reading from a
formal report. “You have had a busy schedule this morning, My Lady.”
“Yes, thank you for keeping
your eye out for me. I’m finishing my shopping for Gift-giving Day.”
“Oh you are?” he stated
doubtfully. “And what have you bought this morning?”
I felt uncomfortable. It was
as though the hunted had turned and faced the hunter. A chill came over me that
threatened to freeze out my fledgling confidence. Again, I could hear the faint
sound of angel voices singing their calming songs. Peace warmed my spine and
recharged the boldness battery I had inherited from Grand-mère. “I bought a lovely
caftog just a little while ago at that same boutique. I’ll enjoy wearing it at
my family’s dinner on Gift-giving Day.” Then I added, because I rarely bought
anything and had some sudden need to justify my purchase, “I haven’t bought
anything new in quite a while. Would you like to see it?” I reached for the
shopping bag I had stashed under the table. I froze. The book, would the
Inspector see it if I opened the package?
“That’s not necessary, Ma’am,”
Stoner replied flatly. He turned and walked away.
I finally exhaled and sat
back.
“That was interesting,”
Thackery whispered.
“What was interesting?” Jason
came up to the table while I was still trying to shake the jitters I had just
acquired from the inspector’s prying comments.
“Jason,” I gasped in relief.
“Calmly,” Thackery warned.
“I can be calm,” I assured
him. “Did you see him, Jason? The Blue Guard officer that was at the apartment
building last night. He was just in here. He was asking questions and trying to
trip us up.”
Jason stood for a second and
then started to take a seat. “Are you all right?” Then he looked at Thackery.
“Who is this man, Christy?”
Thackery jumped to his feet.
“Here, Dr. O’Reilly, take my seat. I was just leaving and you two will probably
want to be alone.”
“How did you ―?”
“Dahlia called me last night.
I had hoped to get over to see her during the evening but I was helping Sean.
I’ll see Dahlia later.” Then he bowed slightly. “I’m Thackery Swift.”
Jason seemed to be shuffling
through recent memories in his mind. “Oh,” he restrained a smile, “Swifty.
Dahlia has mentioned you, one or two or twenty times.”
“Yes, Sir,” he admitted.
Swifty’s cheeks turned red and
I remembered the warmth of my own cheeks the day before. So that’s what we look like when we blush.
Thackery pulled the chair out
for the doctor and leaned forward a little as he moved. “Dahlia will be at home
on her piano bench again this evening if you want to join us.”
“I would love to,” I agreed
with enthusiasm. “The music was so soul strengthening I long to hear and sing
more.”
“See you tonight,” Thackery
waved as he headed toward the door.
Jason frowned as I told him
how the Blue Guardsman had almost threatened me. “I see him lurking around
wherever I go, Jason.”
“We must be careful not to
give him anything to be suspicious about,” Jason said. “But as Legacy Citizens,
we should be free to move about the city, to take a walk, to have an
uninterrupted cup of coffee. Are you ready to go?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Story Checking
Ward Stoner
had accomplished little at the Demitasse.
As he stepped out of the coffee shop, he looked out on the street and shook his
head. No one had stood up to him in so many years he had forgotten how it felt.
Chalky Boone always stood her own ground, but, she didn’t count. That was her
job. Besides, her keen investigative mind and her resistance to intimidation
were two of the reasons he had kept her around. Now, there was a new
person in his life who didn’t flinch in his game of political poker.
Well now, we’ll just see about you, Missy. He jerked open the door of the store his new opponent had
mentioned. There had better be scarfs
near the entrance.
“May I help you, Sir?” Valley asked
as the inspector entered the store.
“I was told about these scarfs
you have on display here,” he began in his skilled way.
“Yes, Sir,” she smiled and
picked up one of the colorful pieces of silk.
“Perhaps you waited on her . .
. Lady Applewait?”
“Yes, she was in here.”
“Well, what did she buy?”
Stoner had lost his patience years ago and raced through life on raw adrenaline
charged by anger, excitement, danger, or any other experience in his day.
“Sir, I’m not supposed to
gossip about our patrons and certainly not if they are Legacy Citizens.” Valley
smiled slightly and pursed her lips tightly.
“She just told me she had
bought a caftog,” he tried to mask his agitation and managed only a fair
imitation of a real person. “That sounded like a good gift for my mother. She’s
young at heart and would enjoy wearing one just like Lady Applewait’s.”
“Yes, Sir,” Valley perked up
with the thought of another generous commission for the day. “They are right
here. Lady Applewait chose this gorgeous green. I’m sure it will be lovely with
her hair.”
“Those things seem to be
important to some people . . . not my mother.” He ran his fingers over the
fabric. It was exquisite, with hand embroidered details on the hem. “I’ll take
it. Wrap it up,” he ordered.
“Yes, Sir!” she smiled. Valley
didn’t mask her surprise or joy. With that additional sale, she had earned more
in one hour than she had all that day.
Stoner grabbed the package and
started for the door where he passed the scarfs again. You may have won the first hand, but I will win the game, he
snickered. You don’t even realize you’re
in a high stakes game with your own life in the pot. The challenge of each
hand he was dealt invigorated him. No one was clever enough to trump him. He
would not lose for any reason. By the time he had reached that hand in the game, he would have marched into hell to win the match.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A Dance in the Snow
12:30 p.m.
As we left
the café, I shivered as I looked around to see if the Blue Guard might be
waiting outside. I was still upset over the contact with the Guardsman.
“Are you cold?” Jason asked as
he put his arm around my shoulder.
“No, it was something Thackery
said.”
“According to Dahlia, Swifty
has quite an imagination.”
Looking up ahead in the
square, I saw a car pull to the side of the street. Two more men from the Blue
Guard got out and stormed the area, running in cadence toward the hospital. I
tried not to think about them or the cause of their increased activity. I
wanted to enjoy my time with Jason.
Focusing on the season rather
than the sinister, I turned back to what Thackery had said about Gift Day
mentality. “They think the lights cause the little moths to cluster around so
they can spend their hard earned money until they get burned on the bulbs.” I
snuggled closer to Jason as we walked along in the crisp air of the winter day.
“I guess they think if you
have nothing in your life that brings you joy except spending money, you’ll
spend until you bury yourself in debt you can never repay, just to get a small
reprieve from the numbness of your existence.” Jason looked to the changing sky
and the world around him. “Those who drink the water can’t find happiness in
even the smallest things around them.”
“I understand now what you’re
saying,” I agreed in amazement. “It’s like I’ve never seen clouds before, and I
want to take in every glorious image I possibly can, in case the beauty is
taken back again. Do you have time for us to walk a while? I want to absorb all
the color I see around me.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d
rather do.” He patted my hand as it rested on his arm. It fit there like we
were made for walking together.
“How much time do you have?” I
could have walked all day if I were walking with him.
He checked the clock on the
courthouse tower. “About twenty minutes. I have to make two phone calls and do
some paper work this afternoon and then I’m going to leave the office for the
rest of the day.”
“You’ll come to the apartment
so we can talk and then join the group for singing later this evening won’t
you?” I whispered.
“I wouldn’t miss it for
anything.” He patted my hand again.
“If you come about three, I’ll
have a special concoction for you to try. Then, we could go down to the lobby
―” I saw the inspector coming out of the boutique and didn’t finish what I was
saying. He eyed us suspiciously as we walked arm in arm, but I thought if I
pulled away, it might raise more questions. I pretended not to see him. He
walked on past us. Is he checking up on
me? That thought made my skin prickle with fear.
Jason and I said no more for a
few minutes until we got to the town square where the old octagonal, shake roofed
structure stood in the center. Twinkling lights were artfully wound in and out
of the white railing that surrounded it. The afternoon sky was overcast with
fluffy gray snow clouds that dropped a linen-like film of shimmer over the day.
“I’m dreaming of a white
Christmas, just like the ones I never knew,” I improvised.
Jason took my hand and led me
up the steps and onto the stage-like platform of the octagon. He pulled me near
him and took me in his arms, like dancers I had read about in the books of old.
He hummed the melody that streamed under the words, in my ear, “Where the tree
tops glisten and children listen . . .”
“We’d better stop, Jason.” I
knew dancing would be just as forbidden as the music and the joy that the
holidays had inspired.
“I don’t know if I can stop
anymore now, Christy. I know I’m moving fast, but I have waited so long for you
to come along. Attraction is a powerful thing and without additives, it is like
it was in the days of old. They called it love
at first sight.”
“I’ve heard of such an emotion,
and for the first time, I understand what that means.” Being with Jason this
short time had awakened me to the new emotions that had the power to make me
understand risky behavior. “What will happen if someone sees us dancing,
Jason?”
He stepped back and looked
into my eyes. “Yes, I know it is best not to draw attention. It’s best no one
sees us. If our outward behavior gives away our inner emotions, people may notice.
That could be dangerous.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Warmth from a Distance is No Warmth at All
It was too
late. Someone had already seen the doctor and his Lady in an embrace. Inspector
Stoner sat in his strata-car at a nearby curb. The frosty air was fogging up
his windshield so he cleaned it with a small scrapper. It made him even angrier.
Every small inconvenience was interpreted as a personal affront to his
worthiness, his intelligence. The gods were against him. Why does it always . . . ? Then he would fill in any complaint to
complete his protests against life.
Well, well, well, he mumbled to himself as he watched the happy couple dancing in
the park. I may have caught a really big
fish. This little mermaid does anything she wants to do. He sneered into
the emptiness around him. Why do they
always think they can get by with breaking the law? And why are they so sickeningly happy?
He had watched them with
irritated interest from the time they left the café. He saw the couple laugh
and twirl together in each other’s arms. As he watched, he could feel his stomach
tie up in its usual knot as he tried to process his loneliness without
acknowledging his wife’s death. Stoner had no one to smile with. No ear to
whisper into. No love to hold next to his heart. His heart had ceased aching.
He felt nothing anymore.
Stoner had seen enough. He
pulled his car back into the street and headed in the direction of his
headquarters. Still, he couldn’t resist the need to watch the couple through
the rear-view mirror until they disappeared when he turned the corner. He had
to acknowledge the reality of his burnt out feelings but couldn’t figure out
why the romance between the Lady and the doctor fascinated him. Romance had
died in the sleep chamber with Miriam. He preferred feeling nothing. It was
easier. His heart beat only by habit. It had become like his name, a stone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Eyes in the Apartment
1:30 p.m.
It was
still early when Jason and I left the town square with the promise that he
would come to my place later. In the evening, we would join the singing group
again. The city had turned the holiday lights on earlier than other days. Now,
it was the afternoon of Gift-giving Eve and the colorful lights seemed to
encourage the shoppers to spend more
money. Society liked to pretend that it was a time to honor one another with
gifts and an opportunity to bring families closer together in celebration. But,
there was little joy or meaning in any of it anymore, not like the old books
had described. It was no secret that Gift-giving was a vital part of our
economy and provided the financial support to keep stores and businesses open
the entire year, based on the proceeds from gift purchases. So, the cities were
brightly decorated to stimulate what fragile emotions remained, to prompt more
and more purchases. At least that was my theory. I looked for the blue lights
among the precious gold, and I shuddered a little.
2:00 p.m.
I had
ridden the P-T back to my building. I hurried into my apartment and threw the
curtains open to let in as much of the afternoon light as possible. It was
nearly 2:00 p.m. so the long shadows of trees and buildings stretched out
across the city. The holiday lights twinkled even brighter than I had
previously noticed. I stood at the large wall of windows and looked out on the
city I loved. With few private cars and the tremendous cost of air fare and
high speed train tickets, very few people traveled beyond the boundaries of the
city, since that was as far as the Public Transit system ran. And, it was
forbidden to travel to the other zones. Mass communication offered a sterile
education about other places but that was different from actually walking in
their green woods.
I turned on the large wall
mounted communications screen and curled up on the couch. Society reserved one
channel that looped a video throughout the day. The scene was of softly
pounding waves on a pristine beach.
2:30 p.m.
Suddenly,
the doorbell rang. As I turned to respond, I noticed something strange near the
bookcase. Was it something that was there that hadn’t been there before? Or,
something that wasn’t there, that had been there before. But . . . what was it?
What was missing? What had been moved? What had been added? No one could have
been in my apartment. It was forbidden to enter the home of a Legacy Citizen
unless treason, sedition, or other acts against society were suspected.
The doorbell rang again and
interrupted my thoughts. I hurried to answer it, hoping it was he.
“Good afternoon Christy,”
Jason’s speech was carefully measured there in the public hallway, but his eyes
spoke bushels more.
I hung his coat in the closet
with mine and then grabbed Jason’s hand and almost dragged him into the room.
He pretended to be surprised and stumbled in, then regained his balance once
the door was closed. He whisked me nearly off my feet and hugged me long, with
all the emotion his words could not express.
“It is so good to see you and
I was just with you a few hours ago,” I laughed softly. I found myself
whispering in my own apartment. “Come out to the kitchen, I have made something
special.”
I led him into the food
preparation area and ladled a full cup of cold creamy liquid into two cups. I
handed it to him and waited for his reaction.
“Looks good. What is it?”
“Eggnog, Jason. I read about
it in one of the books. It’s made with eggs, cream, milk and nutmeg. It’s a
holiday drink they used to serve at Christmas parties. What do you think?” I
was too excited to sip mine until I got Jason’s reaction. When Jason smiled
over the rim of his cup, as he savored the sweetness of the drink, I tasted a
sip of my own.
“This is wonderful, Christy!”
He closed his eyes. “I want to enjoy the entire flavor of the drink with no
other distractions—just taste.” He tipped up his cup and emptied the contents.
“Would you like more?”
“You know I would,” he
admitted as he placed his cup on the counter and dipped out another ladle full.
We took our drinks into the living
room and sat them on the table in front of the windows. It was beautiful there.
The late afternoon lights were even more magical than they had appeared
earlier.
“This looks wonderful,
Christy.” Jason waited for me to be seated.
We talked and laughed and
enjoyed each other, as red and green and gold lights danced across the scene
beyond the building.
The events of the last day and
a half raced through my mind like a collage of snippets and glimpses into a
whole new world of emotions and color. Practicality was no longer the word that
would define my life. But, I had few feeling-words in my verbal vocabulary to
express my experience. I had read them but never expressed them. I was just a
mass of sensitivity, and the raw nerves hurt at times.
I finished my eggnog as we sat
in the quiet for a while. Later, I smiled at life, love and the cozy shadows
that had settled into the apartment as I looked around the dimly lit room.
“Something wrong?” Jason asked
as he followed my gaze into the corners of my space.
“I don’t know.” I looked at
the bookcase again. “Just as you rang the doorbell, I noticed that something
has been moved or added. I can’t put my finger on what it would be.”
We both looked around but
couldn’t see anything out of place. “I must have imagined it,” I said. “Or, the
kitten may have moved something.”
“I am so sorry you’ve been
frightened so many times lately. I wish I could take it all away.” Then, Jason
paused. “I know we forgot to finish something.” He stood up and took my hand,
guiding me from the table. “Our little dance was interrupted,” he said as he
gathered me in his arms in an old-fashioned waltz position. I remembered a
well-written chapter in a book that described the dance and the music and the
romance of it all.
We moved in a simple step in
the silent room, but music soared within me. “The whole world is missing out on
so much. I wonder why they banned the music.”
“Emotions ride through the air
and lodge in the heart on the strings of musical notes. If we weren’t permitted
to feel anything anymore, they had to ban that which stirs the emotions.” Jason
twirled me around. Then, like a grand ballroom move in an old book, he bent me
back in a low dip.
“Jason!” I whispered a muffled
gasp from my upside down position. It’s funny how we see things differently
when we view them from another angle.
“What?” he hurriedly pulled me
up. “Are you all right?”
“Oh . . . yes, but I saw
something.” Again, I looked toward the book shelves.
Jason followed my gaze,
looking for some clue, though neither of us knew what we were looking for.
I walked over to the books and
searched up and down the shelves, pretending I was looking for a particular
volume. The intruding object was there just as I suspected. I turned slowly and
quietly, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. With my back to the bookcase,
I winked solemnly at Jason.
“Well, now I’m ready for that
ice cream you promised me this afternoon.” I was glad I hadn’t identified a
time when we supposedly talked about ice cream. I had seen Jason during the
early afternoon hours but I was so shaken, I didn’t remember when. A misspoken
time frame would have alerted whoever was watching us that a story was being
fabricated. Would he take hold of the subtle thread I had tossed out? I could
only hope that he had pulled together all the hints I had dropped.
He never missed a beat. “Ice
cream it is,” he agreed with a smile. I grabbed my hat and our coats from the
closet and walked out the door. Jason looked at me seriously, quizzically.
“If we hurry, we can get to
the ice cream shop while they’re still open. I imagine they’ll close early
today, since it’s Gift-giving Eve,” I added to the impromptu conversation.
We hurried to the elevator,
hopped in and said nothing. We rode to the first floor in nervous silence. My
limbs were shaking from the anxiety I was feeling. We slipped through the front
door and took long strides to Jason’s automobile.
When we were safely inside, I
began shaking totally out of control. I buried my face in my hands and
screamed.
“Christy?” Jason’s voice was
full of bewilderment and concern as he rocked me in his arms. “What did you see
on that book shelf? What was it?”
“Someone has been in my
apartment, Jason.” I searched my bag for something to blot my eyes. I couldn’t
believe I was crying again. Jason took a handkerchief from his pocket and tried
to blot my covered eyes.
“What? Someone is watching you
inside your apartment?” he gasped as he pulled me even closer.
“Drive, Jason, drive, move. I
don’t know who may be watching us.” I was yelling through clinched teeth. I
knew I dared not make any noise or draw attention to us but my restraint had
dissolved with my tears.
He started the engine and
pulled out into the street. “Christy . . . what . . . ?”
“Jason, there was a small
camera of some sort stuck in among my books. I could feel that something was
there. Someone must have been in my apartment, probably earlier this afternoon.
When I saw the camera, I knew someone had been there. Now, someone may be
outside too—watching our every move.”
“You felt it? You didn’t
actually see it?” Jason eased slowly in and out of traffic like any other
traveler on the road.
“Yes, I felt it at first, but
then, when you bent me back, I saw it. So when I went over to the bookshelves
to get a better look, I saw it clearly, Jason . . . like a camera thing I had
seen in an old book. It takes motion activated pictures of anyone who happens
to be in the room.”
“How does something like that,
an old camera maybe, continue to operate?”
“I don’t know. I just glanced
at it and kept pretending not to see it. But, some of the old cameras turned on
and recorded when movement activated them. I read about them last week in an
old spy novel.” I sat back and tried to gather my thoughts. “Motion sensitive,
I think they called them. The one in the book took one picture after another as
long as there was movement within the range of the lens.”
“I see another problem.” Jason
shook his head as he looked in the rear view mirror.
“What is it?” I turned around
and tried to see what had caused alarm.
“No,” Jason snapped and then
added, “sorry. We’d better act like we don’t notice it.”
“What?” I asked but resisted
my need to look.
“Maybe nothing but every time
I turn, the car behind us turns too.” Jason went around another corner to test
his theory and looked in the mirror. “I was right. He turned again.”
“With that camera in my
apartment, if it had sound, they may have heard us. We’d better go to the ice
cream shop like we said we were going to do, in case the camera had sound.
Marion’s Ice Cream Parlor is on North Main Street.”
“Right,” Jason agreed and
turned the last corner to get us back on course.
“Who do you suppose would be
following us and why?”
“I don’t know but maybe
they’ll give up once we go into the ice cream shop.” Jason said as he checked
his mirror again.
Even when Jason stopped the
car at the curb, I resisted the urge to look around. We had to pretend we were
happily spending an afternoon out. By this time we both knew it was important
to maintain that charade or we might be caught, accused, and tried for crimes
against the state.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ice Cream as an Alibi
4:00 p.m.
Luckily for
Jason and me the little ice cream parlor was still open. I started to get out
of the car but Jason touched my arm and stopped me.
“I’m not going to let whoever
is back there, make me less than a gentleman.” He smiled, walked around the car
and opened the door for me. He offered his hand and I slid out. I resisted the
temptation to look back to see if the other car had also stopped.
Once inside Marion’s, we moved
past the other patrons eating frozen treats. Their eyes told the Gifting Day
Eve story. There usually was no life, no joy, no gift of Hope, but for the
Gifting holidays, there was a faint glimmer of something beautiful. I wanted to
find a shadow to hide in. My new happiness may have been dangerous to reveal
and hard to hide among the walking dead.
We settled into a small booth
in the back. I inhaled the sweet aroma of rich cream and chocolate. I used to
think that some wise soul would finally make a perfume from those scents. “No,
an aftershave.”
“What? We came to the ice
cream parlor, and you want to order aftershave?” He smiled but held in his
laughter as a precaution.
“No silly. You must have read
my thoughts. I was just thinking of a perfume fragrance, then realized the
scent would be better put to use as an aftershave. What woman wouldn’t be
attracted to a man who smelled like chocolate?”
“Chocolate? You design the
fancy bottle, and I’ll invest in the company.” He smiled.
“I would really be in trouble
if you started using our new fragrance, Chocolate
Mystery.” I couldn’t believe I had said it, but it was already out.
“Wow, that almost sounds like
forbidden talk. Remember, women aren’t attracted to men anymore. They have no
libido.”
“Well, most women don’t,” I
teased.
We laughed softly and allowed
ourselves to forget. Had we actually been followed? Was there someone—waiting
and watching us?
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1st in a trilogy.
