The guard trilogy box se.., p.11
The Guard Trilogy Box Set, page 11
part #1 of The Guard Series
In late November, she’d told me she would be getting the prescription soon. Soon? My senses had tingled again, and my rant with badgering her had begun again too. I’d kept at her; couldn’t deny the feelings and the sense of panic I’d had while waiting for her to address the issue. I had told her to have the doctor fax the prescription to the imaging center and book the appointment now. Finally, in December, Joanna had gone to the imaging center. But, unlike the normal, ‘We compress because we care’ send you on your way routine for a mammogram, Joanna had been at the appointment much longer than expected. They’d needed to do a second set of images, because they’d found three separate masses, and all had had to be biopsied. When the tests came back, not only where they malignant, they were three different forms of the disease. Luckily—if you can say luckily under these circumstances, the tumors were encapsulated, and the cancer had not yet reached her lymph nodes. Through January and February, Joanna saw several specialists that ended with her having surgery. Incredibly a day later they released her from the hospital to go home.
Now Miss Joanna, she’s a tiny slip of a woman, but with a heart the size of Canada, and we’ve developed a close friendship since that first breast cancer talk and scare. Joanna thinks she and I share the same guardian angel, or at that least mine talks to hers regularly, and I had to agree with her on that one. Joanna fought that bastard cancer a second time and at this stage of her life. She turns 72 years young this August, and is thankfully is now cancer free.
Over the years, I have sensed various weird events like this. Some have had a negative or evil element, sometimes associated to a person’s presence, or bad vibes others might call it. On those rare occasions when I get a bad feel or image, I try to push it away. Most times I get good or helpful feelings or premonitions. But sometimes—even when the information comes across as bad news, it often ends up as helpful. To me it’s a bunch of bizarre coincidences and a quirky thing that seem to happen to me—through me—whatever. But the feeling I was having right now… was that I was starving.
Typically, on Friday, Luc and I get out for lunch and sometimes our pal Darius comes with us, and today was one of those days. We were quite the threesome. Me, well—I was me, Luc was his typical edgy-looking self, and Darius, he was the gentle giant. Other than our love of movies and good food, he and I were a comical contrast. He has strawberry-blond brush-cut hair and pale northern complexion. He stood upward of 6 feet 3 inches, and weighed over 300 pounds, most of which was muscle. Even with his great size, he was as calm and quiet as a mouse—shy you’d say, but we pulled him out of that quiet nonsense frequently, and he was always happy to join us for lunch.
Out on the street in front of our building, our motley crew stood waiting for the trolley. Our ride was an old-fashioned trolley system that took passengers along a fixed route. It’s never on time, but it was free, and we were grateful it took us to where the best restaurants were—namely our favorite Thai restaurant. The running joke was that they must put crack in the food because we were all addicted to the Chicken Panang they serve. Luc had said he wished they had breakfast panang because he loved it so much. The place had great food, the service was fast and cordial, and we were always in and out of there in less than an hour which included travel time, and it worked perfectly with our restricted lunch time.
As usual on our return from lunch, we unloaded from the trolley and walked the short 10 yards to where we always crossed the busy road. And as always, we played the ‘I saved your life’ game, where you block the other person from stepping off the curb into oncoming traffic, though none of us would ever take the dangerous step. Darius with his gigantic body, often blocked my view of the oncoming cars, but still I would put my arm out to stop him from crossing, telling him, ‘I saved your life’. It was a joke for obvious reasons because it wasn’t as if I could stop him if he chose to take that step.
Today was no exception, and I played the old ‘stop’ game with Darius. It was Luc who made a break for it and darted across to the median separating the two directions of traffic. I followed quick on his heels and left Darius to meander across after us. He never ran, ever. I’m confident that if a car ever made contact with him, the car would suffer more than he would.
From the median, the two of us watched as Darius sauntered across the road to where we stood waiting for yet another opening in traffic to cross to the far side. An oncoming car slowed, and the driver waved for us to cross, giving us the opening we’d been waiting for. The driver was clearly not from Miami, they’d sooner mow you down than stop. At that, Luc took the opening and ran. I turned to see Darius step onto the median behind me, making it across the first divide finally. When I turned back, I watched as the stopped car resume its way and sure enough, the license plate on the car read North Carolina. Now it was my turn, and I stepped out on to the road. An awful ear-piercing screech of breaks sounded to my right, and I turned towards the squeal.
Something wrapped around me and lifted me into the air. Before I could grasp what was happening, I was on the other side of the road next to Luc above where he stood—looking down at him. I was high off the ground… in Darius’s massive arms. I turned my head to stare at my giant friend.
His face was red and running with sweat, pouring onto his shirt. He panted as if he’d run the fifty-meter dash. He’d grabbed me and run across the street. And that screech hadn’t been from a car, it had been from a huge delivery truck, which thanks to Darius, just missed plowing me down and, well, killing me.
Luc gawked up at us, eyes bulging, mouth gaping open. “Darius man, you okay?” he said. “What the hell?”
“You can put me down now, Darius,” I said. I spoke soft and smiled to let him know I was okay, but he remained motionless, blank, staring down at the ground. “Darius.” I spoke a little louder this time and patted his arms.
His head shot up and he turned his sweaty face to look at me. “You okay Lynn... did I hurt you?” he asked in a strained whisper.
“Are you okay, Darius?” I asked back. “You can put me down now.” I gently patted his arm again.
“What the hell happened? Where the hell did that f’n truck come from?” Luc asked, unnerved and pointing at the dark patches on the road. “Look at the skid marks. How did you get to her so fast—get across so fast, without getting killed?”
“Uh I, I don’t know. I don’t know I—I just, ran… and grabbed her. I barely remember doing it. It was… instinct. My brain screamed, protect, so I ran,” Darius mumbled out, trying to wipe the sweat from his face.
Luc attempted to spin Darius’s big body around, as if checking for any injuries. But there weren’t any—not a scratch, not on either of us.
“C’mon boys, let’s go,” I directed, pulling the two stunned men along the walkway towards the building’s entrance. Neither of them said another word as we walked. We continued into the building and rode the elevator to the fourth floor in silence. When we reached the entrance to Darius’s secured area of the office, I placed my hand on his massive arm stopping him mid-stride. “Thanks, Darius. You saved my life.”
His shy eyes looked down at me. “Sure-sure, no problem.”
He still seemed confused as he turned away from me. He swiped his security card, opened the door, and passed through without looking back.
Luc and I continued down the hall to our entrance, but both stopped short of the door. “What the hell happened,” I asked him, half smiling half grimacing.
Luc fumbled under his shirt for his scapulars. Pulling the two small pieces of wood free, he held them together in his fingers and kissed them. “Hell—if I know,” he said. “One minute you’re standing on the median—next, Darius has you clutched in his big arms beside me.” He rubbed the top of his shaved head. “The truck came out of nowhere, Lynn… and those skid marks, they stopped past where you’d been standing on the median.”
I shook my head and huffed out a breath. “Go check on Darius, would ya?” I said, pleading a little.
“Ya-Ya, sure thing.” Luc seemed upset, and a bit shaken, but we continued through the door and back to our desks.
It was all confusing, but to add to the confusion, I wasn’t shaken like I should have been. My heart should have been racing—pumping hard over what had happened, but it wasn’t. My brain on the other hand, was in hyper speed.
I sat at my desk going over the event… and then other incidences that had occurred with coworkers. Nothing quite like this, but the others were equally strange. One occurrence happened right after I first began working here. I’d been assigned to work on a project with another team member. All I’d know about the woman at the time was that she was married, had a son about six years old, and was then pregnant with her second child, but that was it. We’d been sitting in the lunchroom reviewing documents, when once again—even with people banging and clanging all around us, the words came. “How is your son making out at school?” I’d said. I hadn’t known a thing about the kid, couldn’t even remember his name, but as I’d spoken the words, her mouth had gaped.
“What? I have been sitting here trying to focus on this stupid project when all I can think about is my son. He’s been having problems at school. Kids are teasing him because he wears glasses. How did you know?” she’d questioned.
“I didn’t, not really,” I’d said, and had tried not to look surprised myself. I’d known my words had been odd, but I’d sat there thinking instead how weird it was kids still did that, made fun of kids with glasses. I hadn’t been trying to pick up on any concerns of hers—it had been a compulsion to say the words. I’d told her it wasn’t anything I knew, more what I’d felt. I’d suggested she should get her husband to talk to her son about it.
“He’s not his real father, but they are buddies,” she’d explained, adding that she’d been wondering the same thing right then. Later in the week, she’d told me her husband had talked to him about the problems at school and had helped him resolve the issue. She’d said he’d even become the kid that all the other kids looked to for help with their schoolwork. She’s received a few other bizarre tidbits from me since, and she always laughs and says, “You're freaking me out, but I like it.”
Situations like these are sometimes hard for people to take, but I’m used to it now and the varying reactions. It’s uncanny when a person whom I barely know or just met, opens up and tells me things they would never tell me—or anyone else for that matter. I figure it has something to do with people needing to unburden themselves by telling me their stuff, their secrets. It happens to me a lot.
Another incident happened in a one-on-one meeting with a coworker, the first time we had ever crossed paths. Right in the middle of our meeting, during work dialog, I’d stopped… and the words came out. “Are you okay?” I’d said, though there’d been no sign she wasn’t. She’d looked up from her documents, opened her mouth, and let the floodgates for all her troubles open as well. She’d talked about her life and all that had been going on. At the end of the flood she’d apologized for saying too much. When I’d asked if she felt better, she’d said a firm, “Yes.”. I’d told her not to worry and that I’d never say a thing about what she’d told me. She’d nicknamed me ‘Vegas’ that day. Like the saying, What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but for her it was, ‘What you say to Vegas, stays with Vegas’.
There have been other events too, but this thing with Darius, it was different. I replayed the images over again in my head, and I couldn’t shake the odd notion, it was somehow more—something… special. I remember taking a step off the curb when I sensed it, not with Darius—but a split second before, sensed something new. But before I could process it, Darius had me on the other side of the street. It’d been the first time one of my feelings had blended with a person’s actions. And under normal circumstances, my heart should have been pounding through my ribcage, but instead I was calm, strangely calm. Luc had been the one who’d been losing it, Darius a little too it seemed. But me, I’d felt safe. Lucky for all of us, we were alive. And lucky for me again, the last few hours of my shitty workday had flown by.
I shut down my computer, grabbed my tote, and headed to Luc’s desk. Due to all the commotion, I’d forgot to ask him about the favor. When he looked up from his work, I flashed him a smile, and said, “Wanna come over—keep me company while I go through the shipment bins?”
“Sure,” he said, “What’s for dinner?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he said the word dinner.
Eye-roll. “Head home first and get Raven. I’ll have something ready when you get there. You don’t mind staying over—right, crashing in the guestroom? I’d appreciate it, you know—the not staying in the house for this first-time alone thing,” I said, giving him a wide innocent smile, hoping he wouldn’t tease me until we were out of the office.
“No prob.”
“Cool,” I said, turning to leave, but then he grabbed my arm.
“That was something, Lynn—really, something.” He let go of my arm.
Clearly the event from lunch was still weighing heavy on his grey-matter. I said nothing in response, only nodded and continued to turn and go. When I glanced back quick, he was still watching me, smiling now though puzzlement still lingered in his expression.
Chapter 15
At home I pushed any thought of the day’s event out of my head and went into weekend mode.
After changing into an old pair of jeans and one of Will’s old t-shirts, I plopped myself down on the couch and once again woke up my trusty laptop. I was eager to see if I’d received any response from the PI. And there it was, the response I had hoped to see. It read,
Hello Lynn,
Good to hear from you, and yes, I have more information. I’ve located the high school your birthmother attended. I’ve obtained yearbooks from the previous years and found quite a few photos of her and another girl together. I’ve located the friend and luckily enough the woman still lives in Ottawa. I was able to track her down, and she was responsive to taking my call.
On the call, she told me she and your birthmother had been best friends. She knew of the pregnancy and said your birthmom started to show around Christmas time, but it was still kept a secret. As close as the two were, she’d not told her who the father was. She hadn’t had a boyfriend at the time and had tried to brush it off as a one-night stand, some boy who apparently had gone away to college. She’d told her the boy didn’t know about the pregnancy and she’d wanted to keep it that way.
The woman also mentioned a peculiar event regarding your birthmom, something about telling her she’d gone to a fortuneteller of all things. Said the fortuneteller had told her to take this pregnancy full term, but it would be best she gave up the baby. The friend said she didn’t believe story about the one-night stand nor the fortuneteller, but I hadn’t questioned her on either. They lost track after high school when the woman went out East to university. The last thing she mentioned, was how it seemed your birthmother had been looking for a specific type of family for the adoption, which she considered strange. She had been very specific, as though she’d known the people or something close to it, and that there had to be only boys in the family, no other daughters.
She asked to meet me later today, said she had more information but wasn’t in an appropriate place to talk.
Try me later today, I’ll let you know what else I find out.
Anthony
That wasn’t much to go on, and what’s with all the secrecy, and a fortuneteller, really? I’ll be calling to see what else he gets, for sure. And now was as good a time as any.
I grabbed my phone from my tote. I dialed the number saved as PI – Anthony.
It rang one and picked up. “Hello, Anthony Merenda here.” His voice sounded like an answering service though a joyful one.
“Hey there, it’s Lynn—Lynn Westlake—in Miami,” I responded, trying to sound as jovial.
“Oh, Lynn, hey—ya—you got my email I take it?” He sounded surprised even though he’d said to call. “Sorry, ya uhm, there hadn’t been much to go on with the best friend—or so I thought.”
“Or so you thought?” I shot back.
“Well ya, the email I mean—not much there,” he confirmed. “But the meeting with her, was good—but strange.” He paused, and I heard him take in a long breath.
“Go on,” I urged. Was this guy trying to kill me or what? Not like I haven’t been waiting years to hear something, well something I didn’t already know. I mean throw me a bone, man.
I was about to burst from waiting when he blew out the breath, and said, “Well, she had nothing else to say about who the father might be, but she did have a few things to say about your birthmother.” Disappointment escaped me in a sigh, but when I didn’t respond, he continued. “She said your birthmother had this way about her—always knew stuff. Like a psychic gift, she said. Strange I know. She was always interested in things like Wiccan practices, spiritual stuff, Earth and stars, natural healing stuff. Said after she’d gotten pregnant, she had talked a lot about angels—not in a religious sense, but more about the paranormal connection they have with humans. She kept coming back to how incredible your birthmother’s insight was.”
“Whoa—really?” I don’t know anyone like that—right.
“I can’t vouch for the facts, but that’s what she told me.” He stopped to clear his throat. “She explained that they hadn’t seen each other or even talked in years, but that they’d met up a short time before the cancer diagnosis. The friend works at the hospital where your birthmother had her cancer treatments.” He paused, clearing his throat again. “She mentioned on another occasion that they’d met up, gone for a walk… in the park, near the house where your birthmother lived when you were born. Said it was the first time they had talked about the baby since the day she’d given you up.” He stopped. I guessed this wasn’t the type of news he was used to delivering and perhaps he was waiting for me to comment, but when I remained silent, he pushed on. “This is where the story gets a bit off.” He made another throat clearing sound. “I don’t know what to make of this, but the women said your birthmom told her the baby—you, were still on your correct path… and she’d said something about the balance being kept. The friend hadn’t understood the statement, figured it must have been the meds causing the odd talk—the cancer drugs I mean. She’d had explained prior that your birth mom always seemed to know stuff, but she’d considered that possibly your birthmother had been keeping an eye on you or something.” There was another pause. “You still with me Lynn?” My brain was reacting, but my mouth wasn’t, I couldn’t find my words. “Lynn?”
