Wisdom Spring, page 5
“Besides,” she added with a slight smile, “I want to know who you are.”
A minute went by. She just looked at me expectantly.
“Okay.” And I started.
Chapter 6
Talking about your life is supposed to evoke remembrances of a happy childhood—or of a difficult childhood. We have memories of family trips, barbecues, holidays, playing catch, or being read to by our parents. Or, we have memories of abuse—emotional or physical—turmoil, yelling, sadness, and anger. Either way, the memories involve emotion in some way.
Not me. I never realized it at the time, but my home was completely devoid of emotion. You don’t necessarily notice these things as a kid. You don’t really know what’s supposed to be normal. You don’t compare your family to your friends’ families, at least maybe not until you’re a teenager.
So as I described my childhood to Jess, I could see an expression of sympathy forming. Or maybe it was a look of pity. At minimum, it was incomprehension. Could someone really grow up like that?
My father was an Army drill sergeant. My early years were spent going from base to base. Nothing ever felt permanent in those days. Friends never lasted long. Either we’d move or they would. Our house was never “homey”, it always had a transient feel to it. When he became a drill sergeant, things seemed to settle down. He was stationed at Fort Jackson, in South Carolina. We were there for what seemed like a long time.
“It’s funny,” I said to Jess. “On my way here, I passed Fort Jackson when I was on Interstate 20. Okay, maybe my thoughts were elsewhere, but you’d think I would get some sort of feeling of nostalgia. But no. Nothing. Not a thing.”
“So what made it emotionless?” she asked. “Whether you know it or not, you are not being emotionless as you describe your childhood. I’m sensing a tremendous amount of sadness.”
“Now. Not then. Yes, now I feel sad. For years after my parents died I felt nothing but anger toward them. I guess that’s finally dissipated. You’re right. Now it’s just a profound sadness.”
I explained to Jess that the life of a drill sergeant isn’t easy. Long hours and a tremendous amount of stress. I didn’t see much of my father, but when I did, he really didn’t have time for my brother and me. When he was home, he would spend hours washing and waxing his car—a vintage Pontiac Trans Am—usually with a buddy or two.
“He was one of those people who kept everything bottled up. He never talked much. Maybe it’s because he talked and yelled so much in his job. When he did talk, it was to reminisce about his teenage years—he seemed to be happiest then—before he had to enter life for real. When he wasn’t home, or at work, he’d be at the bar with those same buddies, his fellow drill sergeants. I can’t say I really knew my father. Looking back, I think he was really unhappy—unhappy with his career choice, with my mother, with just about everything. Even his Trans Am. He spent a lot of time with it, but it wasn’t his ‘pride and joy’ like you see in the movies. It was just something else to occupy his time.”
“Listening to you, I feel like putting a gun to my head,” said Jess. “That’s really depressing. I get the feeling your mother wasn’t much different.”
“If there were two people made for each other, it was them. I think they both had a secret death wish. My mother had no personality whatsoever. Again, you really don’t notice it as a kid, but looking back I can see it. She went through the motions. She got together with the other Army wives, but I think it was more because she felt she had to. I don’t have a lot of memories of the other wives as time went on. I think they slowly distanced themselves from her. She wasn’t a horrible mother from the standpoint of keeping us fed and clean, helping us with our homework, things like that, but there wasn’t anything behind it. I don’t think she ever formed that mother-child bond with us.”
“Anyway,” I continued, though not enjoying the conversation at all, “my father retired when he hit the twenty-year mark and earned his pension. I think he just wanted out. I was in my teens at that point. We moved up to Massachusetts, where they had both grown up, and my father got a job at a Home Depot. He seemed happier there than in the Army, but he also seemed lost. Maybe he needed the Army structure. I don’t know, but by that time I doubt he was able to change—either one of them. I went off to college when I graduated high school, happy to get out of there. They spent their evenings drinking. I think my mother had been a secret drinker for years. A year after I left home, I got word that my mother had liver cancer. She died soon after that. A year later, my father followed. He had pancreatic cancer. Again, it was quick. Age-wise, they were very young—mid-forties—but in reality, they were old. Old and tired.”
Jess seemed stunned by my story—obviously very different from her own. “You seem to have come out of it okay,” she finally said.
“It’s taken a long time. I promised myself I’d never be that kind of parent to Karen, and I wasn’t. I loved her with my whole being. But I didn’t totally escape my parents’ clutches. I’ve been tightly wound my whole adult life. In my mind, I blamed my wife for the distance between us, but I now know it was me. I’ve gotta tell you that I feel more free right now than I ever have in my life. I’m finally loosening up.”
“I’m glad the whole federal government on my trail could help,” replied Jess, trying to inject some much-needed levity into the situation. But I barely heard it.
“I kind of feel guilty saying that. It sounds like I’m saying that I’m free now that my daughter is dead. But I don’t mean it like that. I’d like to think that if she was with us right now I’d be feeling the same freedom.”
“I didn’t take it that way. It’s obvious that you loved your daughter very much.”
And then out of the blue the tears came, and gushed down my face like a flash flood. Luckily I had just seen a sign for an approaching rest area. I could barely see as I exited off the highway. I pulled into a spot far from any other cars and just sobbed. Jess undid our seatbelts and pulled me over to her, holding me tightly.
Long after the tears had ended, she still held me. Finally, I lifted my head in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re the one with the world after you. I should be holding you. I don’t know what brought that on.”
“I do,” she answered. “It was partly the death of your daughter, but mostly I think it was the death of your old life—your daughter, your parents, your childhood that really wasn’t a childhood at all. It’s all gone. And that’s why you feel so free now. There’s nothing left of who you used to be. You can now be anyone or anything you want to be. But it’s also scary for you. There’s a lot of loss. It’s like your old life ceased to exist.”
I put my hand behind her head and guided it down to where our lips met, and I kissed her. I could feel her body relax as she gave in, her tongue touching my lips, then exploring my mouth. The kiss lingered until finally, we came up for air. Nothing was said. We held each other gently, but firmly. We had each found an island of safety in our messed up lives, and we didn’t want to let it go. Finally we released each other. But Jess wasn’t finished. She leaned over and kissed me again, running her hands across my face, through my hair, and down my back. The second kiss lasted longer than the first. Finally, our lips parted and I looked at Jess, really noticing for the first time the deep blue of her eyes.
“Let’s get some air,” she said.
We got out of the car and walked, hand in hand, just soaking in the moment. Eventually, we sat under a tree and held each other. We were in no hurry to move. Here, we didn’t have to think about who might be after Jess—and me by association—or how to get her out of it. We were sitting under a tree in the middle of nowhere. No one was going to find us here.
Finally, after a couple of hours basking in the sun and in each other’s presence, barely saying a dozen words the whole time, we got up and brushed ourselves off.
“We’re not going to make Vegas tonight,” I said. “We’re not too far from Phoenix and Scottsdale, so we can find a place there for the night.”
Neither of us voiced it, but there was another reason we didn’t want to drive that far.
We found a Sheraton and I repeated the check-in process from the night before. I used the keycard to let us into the room and had barely set down the luggage when Jess was in my arms kissing me. She pulled me over to the bed as we frantically tore at each other’s clothes. In seconds, we were in bed naked, still clawing, as if there were more clothes to come off. We rolled the length of the bed, frantically kissing and feeling every inch of skin we could find. We were breathing heavily, and the sweat from my body merged with hers, creating a fine sheen between us. Finally, we reined in the pace a bit and took our time exploring. Slowly and tenderly, I ran my hands the length of her body, starting with her toes and moving my way up her legs, thighs, and hips. She was working from the other direction, starting with my head, down to my chest and stomach, until our hands met in the middle. The touching instantly increased to a frantic pace, until finally I entered her and we exploded together.
For a little while our lives were forgotten. No one was chasing us. Shadowy government conspiracies and memories of a lost child didn’t exist. It would all still be there when we emerged from our emotional oasis, but for now it was only the two of us.
Afterward, we laid there, completely exhausted. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and woke up an hour later craving food.
“What time is it?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Jess answered. “I don’t want to move.” She had her head on my chest.
I craned my neck and caught a glimpse of the clock. “It’s after nine.”
“Can we do Chinese again? I kind of missed out last night.”
“Yeah. Most Chinese restaurants are still open this late. Maybe someone delivers.”
I called the front desk and was given the name of a close Chinese restaurant that delivered. I called and put in a large order—larger than we’d ever be able to eat, but we just couldn’t decide. A combination of hunger and a separation from reality was guiding us.
The scent of sex hung heavily in the air. We took turns in the shower and were reasonably refreshed when the knock on the door came. Jess hid in the bathroom while I paid the man for the boxcar-sized delivery of food, and we quickly dug in, not saying much until we had at least sated the worst of our hunger.
At eleven, we turned on the local news and were immediately brought back to the bad dream Jess’s life had become. Jess was the first story, and the news wasn’t good. In the thirty hours since I had seen her picture on the TV in the bar at the Marriott, her story had snowballed, catching the American fancy as only a story this sensational—as promoted by the news media—could. The cocoon of relative anonymity that we thought we were living in had broken open, and reality had emerged.
Newscaster: “We start tonight’s broadcast with the Jessica Norton story. Federal authorities have announced that progress is being made in the search for Norton, sought in connection with the brutal slaying of her four co-workers, all staff members of Senator Gary Hillstrom of Massachusetts. Since the story first broke naming her as the suspect, hundreds of calls have come into the FBI tip line with purported sightings of Norton. While most have led nowhere, FBI spokesperson Michelle Carter announced at a press conference this evening that some of the information has proven helpful.
Carter said that Norton was seen taking a bus from Washington, DC, to Charlottesville, Virginia, the day of the murders. Trucker Wayne Henderson confirms picking up a blonde woman he says was Norton in Charlottesville and dropping her off in Atlanta.”
Wayne Henderson: “She seemed really nervous and didn’t talk the entire eight hour trip. She kinda huddled down in the seat. A couple of times a cop or ambulance went by with their sirens on, and it definitely made her nervous. I was kinda glad to get rid of her in Atlanta.”
Newscaster: Carter also said Norton was spotted two days ago in a truck stop off Interstate 20 in Texas with a man. Witnesses said she seemed emotional. While the witnesses couldn’t provide a description of the man, other than that he was white, authorities are hoping he will come forward with more information as to the whereabouts of Norton. No video surveillance was available from the truck stop. Meanwhile, a nationwide search for Norton, thought to be armed and dangerous, continues.
I looked over at Jess, who was staring at the screen. Finally she looked at me, fear in her eyes. I put my arm around her.
“You’ll be okay. I’m going to keep you as safe as possible. Even more than that, you’re going to have to trust in The Voice. It seems to be protecting you.”
“I know. This is just so surreal though.”
“Well, I’ve done a complete and thorough search, and I can assure them you are definitely not armed,” I said, hoping to break the tension.
It didn’t work. She looked at me with a fragility that was positively scary, then put her head down on my lap and started crying. A moment later she jumped up and ran to the bathroom, where she threw up. I followed her in and held her head the way I did when Karen would get sick. In fact, at that moment, she seemed as vulnerable as a child.
It was as if it had all suddenly become all too real to her. We both knew that if she was caught, the Hillstrom machine would never let her live. Or me either, for that matter. We were no longer far off the grid. They were closing in and would soon have us in their sights. She had every right to be sick.
Then it hit me. I cared about something again. Life was worth living, if only to protect Jess. It wasn’t fair that she was in this nightmare. She was a good person who had only been doing her job. I was aware that the chances of me being able to help her out of this mess were miniscule, but I had to try. As far as I could tell, my identity was still hidden, especially there being no video from the truck stop. And there was no word about the Burger King, so we may have caught a break there, too. I had to make sure Jess was never seen with me. As long as we could maintain my secrecy, we still had a small chance. A small chance of what, was the question.
After a while, Jess finally stood up shakily and headed for the shower, where she stayed for over half an hour. When she came out, she brushed her teeth and got into bed without a word. Shell-shocked is the only way I could describe it. I could hear her quietly crying into her pillow. I rolled over to put my arms around her, and while she didn’t object, she also didn’t respond.
*****
In the morning we repeated the now-familiar routine of getting her to the car, then me going back in to pay the bill. We started on our way. She was quiet, but not totally disengaged. I held off suggesting breakfast. Even though she had nothing in her stomach, I knew she wasn’t ready to eat. And since I was still full from the night before, I could survive until lunch.
An hour into the journey she turned to me, all of a sudden clear-eyed, and said, “Is there any relationship between Las Vegas and a circus?”
I laughed. “Yeah, Las Vegas is a circus.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“You really don’t know much about Vegas, do you?”
“‘Fraid not, why?”
“You’ve never heard of Circus Circus?”
“Uh, no.”
“Famous hotel and casino. Not high end like the Mirage or Bellagio, but still popular.”
“I think that’s where we’re supposed to stay. I was sitting here thinking of Las Vegas, when all of a sudden I flashed onto a circus tent. It felt more like a message than just a random thought.”
“Circus Circus it is, then.”
“I want to apologize,” Jess said.
“What could you possibly have to apologize for?” I asked.
“The way I shut you out last night. The way I just kind of shut down altogether. I know how much you’re doing for me. It’s not fair to you. I just feel like I’m in way over my head.”
“That’s because you are. We both are. We can’t let this guy beat us though. Yeah, the odds are against us, but nothing is impossible. And with that Voice leading the way, you just never know.”
“Every once in a while, I get a feeling. Hard to explain, but it’s a feeling of … I don’t know … warmth maybe? Whatever it is, it gives me hope. And I know it’s coming from the source of The Voice. I had that a few minutes ago, right before the circus image. I’m ready to face this. My life isn’t what it was, and I just have to accept it. I’m ready to go after this guy. You’re right. I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we’ll just take it one step at a time.”
A minute later she said, “I’m hungry.”
I smiled. “That’s a good sign.”
As I looked over at her, I saw her jump, as if an electrical charge went through her body.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed.
“What was that?” I asked, ready to pull the car over.
“It was a message. I’ve never had one hit me like that. Wow! About as loud and clear as you could get. My whole body is tingling.”
“What was the message?”
“‘Find Wolf Run.’ Do you have any idea what it means?”
Chapter 7
“You okay?” I asked. Jess was breathing heavily.
“I think so,” she answered. “That was pretty intense, and it’s coming back in waves.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s starting to pass. I think I wasn’t meant to ignore that message.” She looked at me quizzically. “So does that mean anything to you?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “I mean, in relation to Vegas I’m definitely familiar with it, but at the same time, it makes no sense.”
“Umm,” she began.
I cut her off. “Yeah, I know. That was a little vague.”
“A little.”
“I’ve spent a fair amount of time in casinos. I was in sales. Sales conferences take place where people can drink and gamble in the evenings. Sales and gambling seem to go together. As a result, I’ve played a lot of slot machines.”
