RESCUE MAN, page 17
“You bet I am,” said Lisa as she bounded up from the bed. I joined her, patted my pockets to be sure I had wallet, car keys and room key card, and we left my room behind, elevatored to the lobby and climbed into the rental for the fifteen-minute drive to the restaurant.
Sixteen
Saturday evening and traffic overshadowed the daytime traffic. The drive took twenty minutes, and the restaurant parking lot was already filling up. We found a short wait line outside the restaurant entrance, something I hadn’t anticipated. I asked a couple waiting in line ahead of us if we needed to go inside and give our names. “They don’t take names. It’s first come, first served,” the man told us, his expression saying What side of the moon are you from? I thanked him and Lisa and I moved to the back of the line. We were three couples from getting a table. Our timetable was still on schedule.
Lisa and I chatted about everything and nothing as the line inched forward. When a couple or group came out, the next in line went inside and took the empty table. Our turn came, and we scooted inside and spotted the empty table being attacked by a busboy. He worked quickly, piling dishes and glasses on a tray, and finished up by giving the table surface a quick swipe with a damp cloth that had seen plenty of action. He picked up his laden tray and weaved his way to the kitchen. Lisa sat down and I sat next to her. It put me closer to her than if I sat across from her.
A solidly built female waitress materialized from somewhere in the busy restaurant. “Welcome to the Loving Spoonful, the best restaurant in Schenectady, folks. My name is Mimi and I’ll be taking care of you. Can I get you folks something to drink?” she asked as she set menus in front of Lisa and me.
“Iced tea, please,” said Lisa.
“Make that two,” I said.
“Is that sweet or plain tea?” asked Mimi sweetly.
Sweet tea in Schenectady? Will wonders never cease. “Regular tea, please. With lemon,” added Lisa.
“Make that two,” I said again.
Mimi recited the specials du jour and left us to our decisions while she fetched our teas.
Lisa eyed me, smiling, and said, “You’re having the meat loaf special, aren’t you?”
“How’d you know? Hey, the best restaurant in Schenectady can’t afford to screw up the meat loaf, right?”
“Good point. I’m going to take my chances with a cobb salad,” she said.
“Another good choice. It’s hard to mess up a salad, even a cobbed one.”
Mimi wove her way through the tables with our tea on a small tray and set them in front of us. “Have you folks decided?” she asked.
“I’ll have the cobb salad,” said Lisa.
“Perfect. And you, sir?”
“I’m having the meat loaf special.”
“Excellent. You can’t go wrong,” she said while she picked up the menus and performed her vanishing act.
We sipped our tea, and I searched the restaurant for our lunch waitress, Alice. She was nowhere to be seen. It seemed that she didn’t work the dinner crowd. Maybe she had a little one to tend to.
“Are we still okay timewise for our after-dinner stroll?” Lisa asked.
“Yes, we’re fine. Twenty minutes, a half hour either way isn’t going to make a difference,” I said.
“Once more, with feeling, I want to thank you for all you’ve done, all you’re doing and all you’re going to do to help me deal with my demons,” said Lisa, her warm eyes enveloping my own.
“Oh, pshaw, ma’am, it’s nothing,” I said, my way of making a molehill out of a mountain.
“Stop it, Joe! I’m serious. Without your help I could never do this.”
“All right, Maid Marian, I accept your heartfelt thanks. But know that I am doing this because I want to, and not simply because you’re a damsel in distress,” I said, making a bowing motion towards her as an exclamation point.
“Oh, Joe, you’re so, so chivalrous,” she said while she put her supercharged hand on my arm. The flowing warmth was expected, but it still left me breathless. Mercifully, Mimi appeared with our dinners. Lisa removed her hand, breaking the spell.
My meat loaf platter looked as good as the picture on the menu and Lisa gave out with a big ‘Oh, yum,’ when she settled her eyes on her cobb salad. Mimi and the best restaurant in Schenectady were batting a thousand. We picked up our forks and set to work, an easy silence falling over us as we made inroads into our chosen meals. The meat loaf, mashed potatoes with gravy and whole kernel corn had my full attention. For the moment, anyway.
We both set our forks down at the same time. My plate was wiped clean by a dinner roll and Lisa left a few stray morsels of salad on hers. Her way of saying that she’d had more than enough. My way of saying that I’d enjoyed everything completely. Ever alert and attentive Mimi arrived at our table when she saw that we’d finished. “Can I bring you folks a nice homemade dessert to top everything off? A piece of pie with ice cream? Some nice warm bread pudding?” she asked expectantly.
“I’m sorry to say, Mimi, I didn’t leave room for it,” said Lisa.
“Look at my plate, Mimi. I didn’t leave room, either” I said, pointing at my immaculate plate.
“Very well, then. I’ll be right back with your check.”
She was. With a little tray that held two mints anchoring the receipt. I scooped up the mints and passed them to Lisa while I picked up the check to eyeball the total. I dropped a generous tip on the table and pushed back. Lisa did likewise, and we made our way to the cashier. I paid and we headed for the entrance. I pushed it open slowly, wary of colliding with the next couple in line, and we stepped out into the lingering humidity. We passed five waiting groups. Business was booming at the best restaurant in Schenectady. The time had come for us to begin our recon.
Lisa and I walked past my parked chariot and turned the corner, heading for the tavern. Foot traffic was light. I walked with an eye out for trouble, a reflex developed and honed to a keen edge in Iraq. I probed every dark nook and cranny as we passed. I missed the weight of my M9.
We arrived at the tavern unscathed. Business was booming there as well. The parking lot was crammed with cars and pickups, and a few vehicles took spaces along the street. No line formed outside. Everyone had found standing or sitting room inside.
The tavern was a landmark, not our destination tonight. We turned and followed the route to Wittingly Way. I checked my watch, so I’d know how long it took us to Wittingly’s. I guessed at ten minutes.
As we strolled along, we quickly left the hubbub of the tavern behind. Now we were on quiet suburban streets where Saturday night meant a TV movie for most of the residents, with a drink at home, not in a tavern. The sidewalk was clear as far as I could see. Most dogs didn’t need a walk this early.
Lisa surprised me by taking my hand in hers as we strolled along. She completed the picture of a young couple out for an evening walk together. A closer look with the right electronic detection equipment would show a radiant glow coming off the man. It never failed. Lisa’s touch suffused me with warmth. I wondered idly if it would diminish, fade even, with the passage of time. I hoped not.
We were approaching ambush site number one and we slowed, checking for other people about. Seeing that we had the street to ourselves, we ducked behind the screening bushes to examine the area more critically. Faint, diffused light filtered through the gloom, helping us with our inspection. Lisa was first to speak. With her hand resting lightly on the wood fence, she turned to me and whispered, “It’s perfect, Joe.”
I thought so, too. Captain George Wittingly would meet his Waterloo here, if all went well. We stepped back onto the sidewalk and continued. As we passed Wittingly’s, I saw lights on in a front room. The flickering light of a TV floated from the window. Ma and Pa Wittingly were enjoying Saturday night in front of their boob tube, perhaps daydreaming about their son’s approaching visit.
A check of my watch confirmed my guess. Ten minutes had passed. It included our brief sojourn behind the bushes. We went on to the end of the block before we crossed the street and made our way back on the opposite side. Lisa took my hand again, and the warm flow made me weak in the knees. A solo walker coming towards us diverted my attention from Lisa’s energy field to the man’s intentions. It was a perfect place for a person with evil intentions to commit a robbery, or worse. I watched him closely. I thought about my M9 pistol left behind in Surprise. If he tried anything violent, I’d need to rely on my self-defense skills.
As the gap between us closed, the man smiled and said, “Good evening, folks. It’s a nice night to be out, isn’t it?”
The man’s words meant nothing to me. They could have been spoken by Ted Bundy. Lisa responded with, “It certainly is.” Short and sweet. We passed each other, and I looked over my shoulder to follow his progress, knowing from my Iraq experience that it was a crucial moment. The assailant acts all friendly, passes by, and then turns back with a weapon in hand to rob, maybe kill.
Not this time. The man kept on walking without a glance back. When he was well beyond us, no longer a threat, I turned my attention back to the street ahead. Lisa gave my hand a small squeeze and said, “What?” She had sensed my unease. I told her why I was wary of strangers passing in the night. She gave my hand another squeeze and threw in a smile for good measure as we continued.
Ambush site number two came into view, and we slowed our pace while I checked for other nightwalkers. With the world to ourselves, Lisa released my hand and stepped into the site. Like the first one, bushes grew between the fence and the sidewalk, offering a shield to a potential tack hammer-wielder. I could see that the space between the fence and the shielding bushes was smaller, making it more difficult to swing a hammer. Still, it offered a good second choice. Watery light filtered through to the space, providing some illumination to work by. Lisa summed it up perfectly. “Number two is number two.”
We emerged from the hidey hole and continued our way back to the tavern and the additional two blocks to my car. Nobody else was out and about. Nobody else posed a potential threat to us. The tavern continued offering up its usual fare and the restaurant had four late diners waiting patiently outside. Who knows? Maybe it really is the best restaurant in Schenectady.
The parking lot was crowded so my car didn’t stand out like a pounded thumb. I unlocked it, held the door for Lisa like the good knight that I am, and came around to climb in the driver’s side. She rewarded me with a smile and a squeeze. All I needed. Right, Mom? I pulled out of the lot and pointed the headlights at the road leading back to the motel.
“That was a productive walk, Joe. We learned what we needed to know about the two sites, and I enjoyed your company,” she said, breaking the brief silence between us.
“Yes, it was. On all counts,” I added as I piloted us towards our home away from home.
I parked in the motel lot, and we did our final stroll of the evening into the motel and up to our floor. At my door I asked Lisa if she wanted to split another mini bar wine. “Why not, Sir Galahad. The night is yet young.” I opened my door, and we entered my room together.
“You choose the wine while I get two more of those crystal glasses,” I said. I plucked two sterile plastic cups from the bathroom counter while Lisa ran through the wine options in the mini bar. She picked up a bottle and closed the mini bar door as I returned, stripping off the wraps.
“Oh, my, what perfect crystal glasses you’ve found. Are they Waterford?” she asked.
“If they aren’t, they’re a close second. They’re a perfect match for the perfect wine you’ve chosen,” I said.
“How perfect is that?” she said, exhausting the use of perfect for the foreseeable future.
Lisa had chosen a red wine to top off the evening. I held out the cups while she unscrewed the cap and poured. When she’d shaken out the last drop, she set the bottle on the bedside table next to the other empty and took one of the cups, holding it up to the light. “Ah, just look at that rich red color. Clearly a wine made in heaven,” she mouthed.
“Let’s hope it’s not vinegar,” I said. I took a sip and smacked my lips with enthusiasm. “Nope. It’s not half bad.”
“My goodness! We have a budding wine critic in our midst,” she said, putting on her happy face.
“More like two, I’d say.”
Lisa sat close to me on the side of the bed. We weren’t touching, but I could feel her warmth through the clothes that separated us.
You tread lightly with her, you hear me, Tojo?
I’m trying, Mom. I really am.
We sipped our wine, a comfortable silence settling between us. Lisa was first to speak.
“We’ve done all this planning and searched for the best ambush spot, but there’s still one great big unknown: Captain Wittingly himself. If he doesn’t go to the tavern, and if I can’t lure him into taking me home with him, then we’ve wasted all this time,” she said, her expression turned serious.
“True. Every plan has the potential for failure. From what we know he’ll go to the tavern on Saturday night, and I think you could coax an ogre from its lair. Together, we can do this,” I said.
“Thanks, Joe. I mean that,” she said, her soft black eyes capturing mine. She tipped her cup to drain the last of her wine and handed me the empty. I slid it into my drained cup and turned to set them on the bedside table. Lisa stood up and when I turned back to her, she brushed her lips on mine for the briefest second. Fire leaped between us.
You tread lightly with her, you hear me, Tojo.
It gets harder every time, Mom.
“Good night, Joe. Thanks for the lovely evening.” She stepped to the connecting door, opened it, and closed it behind her. She took the fire with her. A part of me exited through the connecting door with her.
I dropped the cups and empty bottles into the trash can, distracted from trying a two-point shot with the cups. In the bathroom I went through my pre-bedtime checklist and stripped to a T-shirt and skivvies. When I climbed into bed. I remembered to go through my nightmare checklist, reviewing the adjustments I needed to make to blunt my nightmare’s attacks. As I had done many times before, I hoped for uninterrupted sleep. I turned on my side, pounded the pillow into shape and settled in.
Seventeen
A muffled scream woke me from a sound sleep. I sat up, listening. It came again. Lisa! I could hear her words. “Get off me! Stop!” she cried out. Someone had broken into her room and was assaulting her!
I leaped out of bed and raced to the adjoining door. When I turned the knob it swung open. Thank God, she hadn’t locked it. I dashed into Lisa’s room. She was sitting up in bed, a wild expression on her staring face. She was naked from the waist up. I looked at the outside door. The chain was hooked, undisturbed. Nobody had broken in. The realization of what happened swept through me.
Turning from the door, I hurried to her bedside. Her screams had died to a loud whimper. “No!” she kept saying. “No! No!”
I put a hand on her bare shoulder. It was damp with perspiration. “It’s okay, Lisa. I’m here with you. It’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice soft, soothing as I tried to bring her out of her nightmare. As I spoke, I watched her eyes clear, begin to focus. She turned her face toward me, and recognition flooded her features. She wrapped me in a death grip and held me against her nakedness for a long moment. I hugged her to me with equal ferocity. Sparks flew between us.
As she regained awareness, she realized that she was unclothed. She released her grip on me and pulled the sheet around her, hiding her beautiful, upturned breasts from my view. “It was a nightmare, Joe,” she said, her voice hoarse from screaming out.
“I know, Lisa. Thank God you left the connecting door unlocked so I could get to you.”
“I did?”
“Yes. I came in, expecting to find someone assaulting you, and when I saw that your outer door was undisturbed, I knew you were having a nightmare.”
Lisa lay back down, her head on the pillow, the sheet drawn up. “Do you think they’ll ever end?” Her question was meant for me as much as it was for her.
“Yes, I do,” I said. I believed it. The alternative could lead to suicide, dependence on drugs or alcohol at the very least.
“I really want to believe you, Joe. Please, stay here with me. You comfort me, make me feel protected.”
Without a word I swung my feet up onto the bed and lay down next to her. The warmth coming from her flooded through me.
You tread lightly with her, you hear me, Tojo?
I hear you, Mom, though I have to say, your voice is getting harder and harder to hear.
Daylight was leaking around the window shade when I woke up. Confused by my surroundings, I couldn’t figure out where I was until I felt Lisa’s warm breath on my neck. I turned slowly to face her, not wanting to waken her. She was under the sheets. I was on top of the sheets. My promise to Mom remained intact.
Lisa stirred and stretched, awakened by my movement. She opened her eyes, saw me, said “Huh,” and then a smile broke out across her sweet, round face. “I remember now. Thanks for rescuing me, Sir Galahad,” she whispered, her hand reaching for my arm. Knowing what her touch would do to me I bolted upright. “At your service, my dear lady,” I said as I stood up.
“I owe you, Sir Knight,” she said.
“You owe me nothing,” I said.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“Whilst you’re judging, might I suggest that we reclaim our clothes and invade the breakfast nook, pillage it for whatever fits our fancy,” I said.
“Your brilliant suggestions are exceeded only by your chivalry. I shall knock three times on yon door when I am ready to join you in the attack on the breakfast room,” she said, her happy face back in place.
I scooted through to my room and closed the connecting door. Alone, and feeling very much alone, I went through my morning bathroom rituals, double-checking my face for stubble before setting aside my razor. I added a splash of bait to my clean-shaven face and padded to my suitcase to retrieve my final change of clothes. First on was a pale-yellow polo shirt, followed by light brown slacks. I socked my feet and stepped into my loafers, then donned my belt and fed my pockets with all the items I lug about with me every day. My wallet was last aboard. With my shirt tucked, pants buttoned, and belt buckled I was ready to face the day. I sat on the edge of the bed with the TV remote in my hand, prepared to play the waiting game with Lisa.
