Jessie

Jessie

Listen To Your Heart

Ancient Destinies Series: Book One.

Revised Edition 11-24-2015.

Copyright 2014 by: JJ Aughe

Published by JJ Aughe at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by Melody Simmons @ ebookindiecovers.com

Smashwords Edition License Agreement Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All copyright rights reserved. This ebook may not be re-sold, printed or given away to other people without the written consent of the author. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This eBook is a work of fiction and, except as noted elsewhere in the front or at the end of this work, any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters in this work are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Historical Disclaimer

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Part One

Chapter 1: Jessie Melano

Chapter 2: Dreams

Chapter 3: The Realm Of Reality

Chapter 4: Check Yes or No

Chapter 5 Anxious Moments

Chapter 6: Exposed!

Chapter 7: An Unorthodox Proposal

Chapter 8: Curious Events

Part Two:

Chapter 09: Melissa

Chapter 10: A Safe House

Chapter 11: Past Sins

Chapter 12: Red Alert!

Chapter 13: A Secluded Haven

Chapter 14: Amazing Discoveries

Chapter 15: A Daring Escape

Chapter 16: Do or Die!

Part Three:

Chapter 17: An Ancient Parcel

Chapter 18: Needing Coffee

Chapter 19: Monica Radcliff

Chapter 20: Alone Time

Chapter 21: A Similar Encounter

Chapter 22: A Special Surprise

Chapter 23: An Agenda Of Her Own

Chapter 24: In Enemy Hands

Chapter 25: A Bridge To Safety?

Chapter 26: Five-Finger Lake

Epilogue

Charli Kissed Him

Pizza Party

S.A.B.L.E.

An Electric Touch

About the Author

Other Books By Author JJ Aughe

Connect with Author JJ Aughe

Historical Disclaimer

Important message. Please read this disclaimer.

I have used a term for the ancient peoples in the context of this story that was not my first choice. Be that as it may, after extensive research into the histories of the peoples who first came to this continent I came to the conclusion that, no matter what I referred to those people as there would be detractors that would condemn my use of whichever term I used. Therefore, in this work and all that follow I begin by referring to those peoples as Native American. I change to my first choices of Ancient People(s) and The People later on in the texts. It is my hope that you, the reader, will understand that because I believe some of my ancestors were counted among those people, I do not in any way, shape, or form use those terms to demean or malign my brothers and sisters. I use them in reverence and honor for, as what the name they refer to themselves in each of their languages translates to, they were, are and always will be The People, The Human Beings.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my family and friends for their support and enormous patience in putting up with my reclusiveness while working on my manuscripts. Here also, a grateful Thank You to Melody Simmons who designed the cover of this ebook. Her book cover designs are masterpieces. Over a hundred individuals and private enterprises have contributed to the completion of this manuscript and the furtherance of the other books in this series. It would be great to acknowledge every single one individually, but the list would fill pages. That being the case, and knowing those individuals and businesses know who they are and what they have contributed, I will say a hearty Thank You to all who have contributed.

Thank you for choosing my novel. I hope you enjoy reading Jessie, (Listen to Your Heart) as much as I enjoyed writing it for ‘You’.

Prologue

Fifty-five-year-old Charles Logan, once a respected archeology professor, now homeless and continually hungry, reduced to accepting clothing and meals at the rescue mission or other charities and searching trash bins for aluminum cans or other recyclables to survive, shuffled along the sidewalk, his sad blue eyes downcast. He had learned the hard way that, because of his past, even though exonerated, no one cared. That hurt. He had tried to rebound from the stigma of a wrongful conviction and prison sentence. Nothing he tried would convince people that he was a good person, not a philanderer who preyed on young women. It seemed there was no way to change people’s minds.

Well, he resignedly mused. It is what it is. I just have to live with it.

His busy eyes searching for anything of value along the sidewalk fell on what he thought was a folded one-dollar bill lying in the grass. Visions of something from a dollar menu had him immediately stooping to pick it up. He was surprised when he unfolded the bill to see Andrew Jackson pictured on the front instead of George Washington. As if he had found a hundred -dollar bill, Charles clutched the bill in his left hand and hastened toward a fast food restaurant two blocks down the street.

An ancient Native American woman stood hidden from view in the shrubbery forty or so yards further down the sidewalk. Her wrinkled lips turned up in a toothless smile when the homeless man picked up the money she had left for him alone to find. When he was near she stepped onto the sidewalk, pointed a gnarled finger at him. In a raspy voice she croaked, You are the chosen one.

Startled by her sudden appearance, Logan stopped, asked, What did you say?

Reaching inside her black doeskin cloak the old woman brought out an object wrapped in thin, white leather. Holding it out to him, she continued. You will use the money you just found to deliver this to the one to whom it rightfully belongs. Take it, but do not open it. It is written in the stars that you are the one to do this deed. You must do as I have said. After the deed is done you will receive a sign that you have done the right thing.

Charles wanted to ignore the woman's words and started to brush past her. However, when he happened to gaze into her ancient eyes he was sure he saw the image of a young Native American maiden with waist-length, ebony hair smiling back at him. A chill went up and down his spine. Only the night before the same Native American maiden had been in his dreams. Certain he was supposed to do as the old woman bade him he accepted the leather bound object.

He started to ask how he would know who the owner was but the old woman anticipated his question. The name of the one who rightfully owns what I have entrusted to you will come to you when the need is there. There are ways for you to find out where she lives and you will know how to get it to her. I promise you that you will have done an honorable thing.

Charles glanced down at the object in his hand for a second. When he looked up again the old woman was gone! He quickly looked around, his eyes scanning the shrubbery from which she had stepped. She was nowhere. She vanished in the blink of an eye!

Charles shook his head, wondered if he had actually seen her. The money and the leather bound object in his hand proved he had seen her and he was obligated to fulfill her request.

Part One

Chapter 1. Jessie Melano

Monday, 9:45 pm.

Anton’s By The Lake, Bellevue, Washington.

Seated at a table for two next to a floor to ceiling plate-glass wall overlooking the waters of Lake Washington, the explicit suggestions of her fiancé sent Jessica Melano’s building ire flaring. Her usually soft, calm, articulated voice revealed her shock as it rose above the murmur of conversation at the surrounding tables.

What? Realizing she had shouted the word, she quickly lowered her voice, continuing in an agitated whisper, You can’t possibly be serious, Gerald?

Her shocked voice brought the guarded conversation of two mid-eastern men sitting at a nearby table to a sudden halt as, interested but acting as if they had heard nothing out of the ordinary, each strained to hear more. Though surprised, but pretending not to notice Jessica’s uncharacteristic outburst, the other patrons quickly resumed their conversations.

The muscles in Jessie’s right arm tensed with an almost overwhelming urge to reach across the thick smoked-glass table to slap her fiancé’s face. Remembering they were dining in a restaurant full of people who knew both her and her fiancé she clasped her hands together, forcefully holding them in her lap as she leaned toward her date. Lowering her voice to just above a whisper, she carefully chose her words. You can’t be serious, Gerald! How could you ask me something so outrageous when you know I am not now, nor have I ever been, promiscuous?

Yes, Jessie. I am well aware of that fact. Gerald G. Hamlin IV, heir to the vast fortune of Hamlin Industries, smugly answered. Then, employing the radiant, beguiling smile that had attracted her to him in the first place, he lowered his own voice, I love you. I have since the day we met. By the emphatic, ‘Yes!’ you gave me when I asked you to marry me you must love me too. When I placed my grandmother’s engagement ring on your finger that night you claimed you loved me so much you would do anything for me. That statement alone should make it perfectly acceptable for me to ask you to go to bed with me!

Gerald reached out as if to take her hand to try to reason with her, decided it might be better to go ahead and say exactly what he wanted her to do for him, and let his hand drop to the table. Besides, Jessie, we have been dating for almost four months and I have never pressured you. I have been patient with you because I knew that you had never been with a man in that way. But, damn, Jessie, like any man my age I also have needs.

That said, he smilingly proclaimed, as he leaned toward her. I think it is only right that you let me make love to you before we get married. That way I will know whether we are compatible in that area of our relationship.

Hell, Jessie! he exclaimed when he saw the shock return to her face. Like I said, I believe I have the right to know whether you are exciting in bed or not.

His egotistical, so important attitude, that last infuriating remark and the way his eyes bore accusingly into hers as if she were the one being unrealistic, was just too much. Convinced that he had been conning her from the very beginning of their relationship she pushed her chair back, stood. Angrily glaring down at the man she had come to admire and love for his chivalry, his drive to succeed, his care for the comfort and well-being of those around him, she shook her head. She could not believe how mistaken she had been! Everything he had said and done from the first day she had met him had been a sham. A con! Like every other man she had ever dated, all Gerald really wanted was to get her into bed, maybe get her pregnant so she would be compelled to marry him. Everything had been just to gain free access to her fortune!

Well, she silently raged, that is not going to happen! Not now, not ever! Covertly glancing around the quieted dining room, she debated what to say. Should I tell him exactly what I think of him now or, just walk out?

The restaurant is full of people I associate with on a daily basis. These people know me. I know they are all surreptitiously listening and secretly watching to see what I will do. They will expect me to act the epitome of dignity and not make a larger scene of this than it already is. I have to remember that. So maybe the right thing to do then is to walk out.

The overwhelming shock, anger and revulsion at the atrociousness of what Gerald was suggesting she should do for him in bed again took over, negating her sense of propriety. I have my pride and my honor at stake here and I don’t really care if I make a scene. The people here will just have to understand that if Gerald feels he has the right to say something outrageous as that to me, I have the right to voice my opinion too!

How should I handle this, though? Should I sit down and calmly tell him what I think of his suggestions, tell him to go to hell then get up and calmly walk out? Convention tells me it would be better to leave without giving him a piece of my mind. She lowered her head as she thought and her glance fell to the chair she had just vacated and made her decision. Seating herself, she silently glared at him.

The corners of Gerald’s lips lifted in a satisfied grin she knew meant he was certain he was winning his way. She again had the urge to smack that grin right off his face but, continuing to stare angrily at him, she controlled herself.

Gerald was quiet for a moment and she wondered if he was trying to come up with the right words that would coerce her into his bed. She was not even remotely prepared for his next outrageous statement. Words that would send her temper flaring and prod her beyond the realm of reason.

Well, Jessie, Gerald smiled confidently before continuing. What’s it going to be? Do you get in bed with me tonight, do all the things I want you to do? Or do I have to go see Miranda again?

Outrage immediately filled Jessie as her eyes shot daggers at him. Her nostrils flared in anger as she yanked his ring from her finger and roughly shoved her chair back again and stood, the motion sending her waist length, coppery hair whipping from shoulder to shoulder. Beyond caring they were in the crowded dining room of one the best restaurants in Bellevue, she fisted her hands, placed them at the waist of the slinky black dress Gerald liked to see her in and screamed, Again? You snake you! What do you mean, ‘again’? How many times have you visited Miranda after we have been on a date? Her voice breaking right along with her heart, she screamed through trembling lips, H-How could you do something so, so rotten, Gerald? Trying unsuccessfully to choke back emotional sobs Jessie’s voice broke again as she screamed, A-And w-with, of all people, my friend, Miranda Bagnold?

Jessie was tempted to snatch up the long stemmed crystal glass filled with expensive vintage wine and throw it into Gerald’s handsome face. A childish act like that just was not who she was, nor was it what she wanted to be seen as. So, rejecting the impulse, she instead leveled a hateful glare at him as, her voice carrying to the far reaches of the restaurant, she tossed his engagement ring on the table, finishing with, Y- You’re just like every other guy I’ve ever dated, Gerald G. Hamlin the Fifth! You don’t love me! You never have! All you care about is getting your hands on my money and using my body to satisfy your deviated and vulgar lust!

She violently shook her head again sending her hair whipping back and forth. Well, Mr. ‘so sure of yourself.’ You will never get either my money or m-my body! You can go straight to hell! Yes, I know I am shouting. I hope everyone in this restaurant hears what I say, too. Maybe then they will all know what a cad you really are and will have nothing more to do with you! Jessie started to turn away, but checked herself as she finished with, Furthermore, Gerald, I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again! Tears streaming from her eyes, she turned to flee the restaurant as applause and not just a few knowing, ‘Hear! Hears!’ and ‘Atta girls’ exploded from the patrons.

The supportive response from the people at the other tables bolstered Jessie’s self-respect and courage. Willing her tears to stop, she swiped them from her cheeks with both hands, slowed her pace, stiffened her spine and regally lifted her chin. Seeing encouraging nods from the people at the tables near her, she strode purposefully from the restaurant.

Once outside she paused beside one of the faux marble support columns to retrieve her keys from her purse. The concerted support from those in the dining room not-with-standing, her composure suddenly crumbled. No longer able to keep her emotions at bay, a sob of anguish escaped her quivering lips, tears again streaming, unchecked, down her lovely high boned cheeks and, feeling weak, she leaned a shoulder against the column. She suddenly had the thought that Gerald might follow her outside and, not wanting to ever have anything more to do with him, she sprinted across the parking lot to her car in her two inch, Gucci heels.

Nearly blinded by tears, she tried several times before she was able to unlock the car door. Once the door was open, she slid under the steering wheel, slammed the door shut, jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine. Shaking the tears from her eyes, she revved the engine as she crammed the gearshift into reverse. Her anxiety caused her legs to begin an uncontrollable trembling and her foot slipped from the clutch pedal. The car shot backwards out of the parking space, nearly hitting Gerald who, indeed, had followed her.

Jessie heard Gerald scream her name as he jumped out of the way. Intent on getting away as fast as possible, she ignored him. Without braking, she ground the transmission into first gear and let out the clutch, causing the rear tires to scream their complaint all the way to the street.

Bailey Gilmore, a tall, dark haired man in his forties, had left the restaurant minutes before in his latest of many unsuccessful attempts to secure financing for the most important project of his life. Sole owner/operator of C&G Charter Aerial Adventures, Bailey was in a quandary as he stared dejectedly at the keys in his hand, pressed the button on the remote unlocking the door of his rental car. Hearing a woman’s loud, anguished sob, Bailey glanced toward the entrance of the restaurant from which it had come.

A strikingly beautiful woman he had noticed earlier as she and her date entered the restaurant now stood with a shoulder against one of the columns supporting the portico. His heart went out to her as she burst into anguished tears and ran across the parking lot to a vintage Corvette.

What a shame, he sympathized as he opened his car door. I wonder if her date had anything to do with her distress. If he is responsible, he should be ashamed of himself. I know I would be. I would hope I would be ashamed anyway.

As Gilmore stood with his hand resting on the frame of the open door his mind turned to his own problems. He was deep in thought, deliberating on whom he could contact next to get the financing he so desperately needed when he heard tires squalling on pavement and a pleading man’s voice shouting a woman’s name.

Curious, Gilmore glanced behind him to see what was happening just as the Corvette the woman he had seen running across the parking lot to, sped away, its back tires smoking, leaving a man helplessly glaring after it. Sadly, shaking his head, Gilmore murmured, Brother, I think you have ticked that beauty off, and, if I were a betting man, from the way she tore out of here, I would bet that she never wants to see you again.

His train of thought broken, Gilmore slid behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and sat for a minute getting his thoughts together. He noticed a light rain begin to speckle the windshield as he silently shook his head. My last hope, I guess, he muttered as he started the engine and backed out of the parking space, is to go back to the bank tomorrow. Devlin did say he would consider giving me the loan if the paperwork I gave him checked out.

Gilmore stressed over the situation he was in on the drive back to his condo on the west side of Lake Sammamish. "Why can’t I seem to convince anyone to finance this project? The loan rejections I have been getting, especially this last one, do not make sense. I have worked, fought beside and even stood up for Dave Jenkins when he married Sabrina. Yet, even though he easily could, he refused to finance the project. Why? He knows that I have never been arrested, and, as far as I know, my credit rating is excellent. I own a thriving business that has been in the black since just over a year after I started it. Except for being forced off the road last week, I have never had an accident in a car or even been issued a traffic ticket. Therefore, I have a perfect driving record. Yet, Dave said he couldn’t do anything for me. I just don’t understand it. I gave him all the paperwork to prove that what I want to do is not a fraud, swindle or scam. He even agreed the project was fascinating. He told me he was sorry, but because of all his other investments and the sluggish stock market right now, circumstances beyond his control dictated he decline.

What circumstances could he have that would prohibit him from investing in this project? Dave’s wise investments in the aeronautical industry have made him a billionaire. Seventeen million dollars should be almost nothing to him. The return he would realize on his investment alone, not to mention the satisfaction of knowing the public’s enjoyment of the finished project would be well worth the risk!

So involved was he with his financial problems, Gilmore did not notice until it was almost too late to avoid a collision, that a car without its headlights on was coming at him on the wrong side of the street. Braking hard he swerved to the left and immediately back to the right as his car went into a skid on the wet pavement. The other car passed behind his as he steered over the curbing between a pickup and an SUV, coming to stop on someone’s front lawn.

His nerves shook up, he slowly drove off the lawn and down the sidewalk past the parked SUV then back onto the street again. Seeing there were no cars parked across the street he pulled to the curb there and sat for a moment with the engine running trying to get his nerves settled.

I better go see if there was any damage to that lawn, he resignedly muttered. He started to open his door and saw a police cruiser pull to a stop behind him with lights flashing. Oh, god, he thought. Now what? Am I going to get my first traffic citation?

Chapter 2: Dreams

Devastated by Gerald’s betrayal and his mistaken, vulgar, repulsive, even reprehensive, assumption that she would willingly go to bed with him, was even obligated to go to bed with him, Jessie tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning. She finally decided that if she were to get any sleep at all she needed to put Gerald out of her mind. She let her mind wander for a minute and tried to relax. Her last trip to the Seattle Waterfront came to mind and a smile came to her lips.

She had just left the Rescue mission when she spied Gertrude Brown, an old friend from the UW she had not seen for years, walking toward the mission. The woman smiled radiantly at seeing Jessie and asked if she would like to go have coffee to catch up on their lives.

Gertrude had graduated the year before Jessie and immediately moved to New York to become the CFO of a prestigious accounting firm. She told Jessie she thought it would be exciting, but, what with the traffic, the crowded sidewalks and the hours she had to spend at her office, it turned out to have almost made her go insane. She finally decided she had had enough, quit and returned to Seattle to start her own accounting business. They talked for hours and made plans to meet the following week for lunch. Before they parted that night, Gertrude turned to Jessie and, smiling broadly, confessed that she was going to be married in the spring to the most wonderful man she had ever met. The man was Charles J. Engles, a student they both had briefly met while attending the UW. She said that he had fell head over heel for her then but had been too shy to confess how he felt. Then she had graduated and left town. His heart was broken for years. He didn’t know where she had moved to but pined for her so bad that he hadn’t dated or even associated with any other woman since.

Then one day a few months ago he saw her photo and an article in the local newspaper and made a beeline to her office to ask her for a date. She had thought him a perfect gentleman on that date and had continued to date him. Just the previous week he had proposed and she had accepted.

The thought of her friend’s happiness calmed Jessie’s mind and, her eyelids sliding closed, she slept. She hadn’t slept long before she was revisited by a vivid dream she had begun experiencing while on vacation in Belize at her parent’s vacation home when she was four years old. The dream again awoke her.

Though at times the dream varied in its locale, its one constant was a very beautiful young Native American woman. The mysterious woman’s beautiful image had been so ingrained on Jessie’s memory over the years she knew she could accurately describe the beautiful woman without a second thought.

The woman’s straight flowing, waist length, ebony hair glistened with silvery blue highlights. She always wore a thin strip of tan rawhide tied at the back of her head. The rawhide threaded through an oval piece of rawhide with a cougar’s head intricately worked into it and placed above the woman’s right ear. A downy white eaglet feather hung from the oval rawhide on another thin strip of rawhide, the feather lightly brushing the woman’s temple.

The maiden was always attired in a white doeskin garment, the large image of the head of a tawny, snarling cougar gracing the bodice. Though smaller, the same image was at each side of the larger one. Jessie was certain the images of the cougar were important, but had no idea why.

The young woman’s facial features were intriguingly beautiful. Her unblemished, sun-tanned complexion, high cheekbones, Cupid’s bow lips, narrow nose and thick black eyebrows complimented each other. The woman’s eyes always drew Jessie’s unwavering attention. Though her irises were deep brown, instead of emerald green as Jessie’s, the silver and golden flecks in them mirrored the identical flecks of her own. Other than her own and her mother’s, Jessie had never seen anyone who had those same very distinctive colored flecks in their irises. As always, when Jessie awoke from each of those dreams she remembered thinking that the petite woman’s eyes were the most beautiful, provocative eyes of any woman she had ever seen.

In all the previous dreams, the maiden always made hand gestures similar to those of present day deaf sign language and seemed to be speaking to Jessie, but Jessie had never before been able to hear her voice. In this morning’s dream though, Jessie had actually heard the maiden’s soft, soothing, yet firm, commanding voice. Even though she could hear the maiden’s voice, Jessie could not understand the strangely familiar, yet unknown, language.

This morning’s dream was also different in that while the woman spoke, one of her hands pointed toward Jessie and a man standing just to the left of Jessie. Jessie had been aware of the man in the previous few dreams but she had never seen the man’s face, only his right hand, arm and shoulder. She remembered marveling at the magnificently sculpted biceps and forearms the man possessed. As if he was in the act of lifting something very heavy, the muscles in the arm bulged, straining the short sleeve of the sport shirt he wore to almost bursting at the seam. Every time the man moved his arm, Jessie’s eyes were drawn to its only imperfection, a jagged scar similar in form to a downward striking, four pointed lightning bolt that seemed to shimmer when the arm moved.

When Jessie awakened from the first dream the man had appeared in, and in every dream since, she was certain she could detect the faintly euphoric, spicy bay and sage scent of a man’s cologne or after shave lotion in her bedroom. Certain the scent was that of the man in her dream and feeling the driving need to personally meet him, she caught herself unconsciously trying to get a whiff of that same scent on every man she had met since the first dream he had appeared in. Her efforts to detect that spicy scent were never rewarded though because no man’s scent had ever come close to matching that particular, euphorically arousing scent.

Now, with that euphoric scent stirring her senses, Jessie shook the sleep from her eyes, tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the lush carpet. As she rose from her bed, the euphoric, masculine scent of the man in her dream seemed to fill the room and she had the sudden, distinct impression there was someone in the room with her! Instead of feeling alarmed at the presence as would be normal, Jessie felt just the opposite. Her senses, her whole body, seemed to be calmed by it. She glanced around the room trying to locate the scents’ source, but just as quick as it had bombarded her senses the pleasing scent vanished.

Whoever you are, she heard herself breathlessly say, as if the man were standing in the room with her. If you are real, are you my soul-mate and is today the day I will finally meet you? Amazed at the craziness of her own words she anxiously glanced around the room. Half expecting to find the man standing in the shadows she scolded herself for her silliness. Of course you ninny, there is no one here! Then her thoughts unaccountably went somewhere she never thought they would ever go again as she whispered, But, oh how I would love to feel those strong, muscular arms holding me gently to his chest!

Tremendously shocked by her thoughts, she chastised herself. After last night, how could you even think something as outrageous as that? Then she shocked herself again, as she dreamily breathed, But, wouldn’t it be so wondrous to be held in the strong arms of a real man like him?

She caught a glimpse of her wistful image in her vanity mirror and immediately became disgusted with herself, yelling, No! After what Gerald has been doing behind your back, what he said to you last night, what he wanted you to do and especially what he wanted to do to you? It would be insane! All men are the same! All they are ever after is your body or your fortune, or both! Yeah, she ruefully finished. Remember this, girl, and don’t you ever dare to forget it! All any man ever wants you for is a trophy wife and, of course, access to your body and your money. They would never be faithful! So, don’t go there! Grabbing her terry cloth robe, she stormed into her bathroom to shower and wash her hair.

Later, as was her daily routine, she sat at her vanity carefully counting her usual one-hundred brush strokes through her waist length tresses. As was her habit, she talked to herself as she went over what she planned to do during the day.

I know Maureen doesn’t approve of me spending so much time at the rescue mission and will probably frown when I tell her what I’m going to do. Never the less, I will talk with Burney again about Sam Durant’s situation. I really believe that if Burney were here, he would do exactly the same thing I want to do for Sam.

A frown creased her usually unblemished forehead as she thought about the poor man’s situation. She had hired an investigator to check Sam’s background. The upshot of it all was that, through no fault of his own, Sam Durant had become homeless and desperately needed the Castleman Fund’s help. Jessie had to admit that when she had talked with him on Saturday she had been skeptical of what he told her. Her heart had gone out to the poor man though, when, as proof of what he claimed, he pulled his battered wallet from a pocket of his worn jeans and handed her the news clippings from the local newspaper. What she read in those clippings just broke her heart.

Though he told me he had previously been a heavy equipment operator, she murmured half to herself. Sam told me he was working a second job at night as a short order fry cook to make ends meet. He had been half way through his shift when his manager called him back to the office. I can’t even imagine what went through Sam’s mind when the manager introduced the man with him as a Bellevue Police Detective and walked out, softly closing the door behind him.

From the horrible account in the clippings, there had been a natural gas leak at Sam’s home and something, the investigators thought may have been the natural gas hot water heater, had ignited the fumes. The house had virtually disintegrated, killing Sam’s wife, his six-year-old twin boys and infant daughter. His whole family wiped out in the blink of an eye.

Jessie had to wipe tears from her eyes just thinking about what Sam Durant must have gone through during that tragic time. Sam’s insurance plan from his construction work had taken care of most of the funeral costs but his home/auto insurance had taken months to send him a check for the contents of the house and his wife’s car, a meager sum of money he desperately needed before he could purchase the head stones for his family. Sam’s grief over his loss during that time had consumed him. He was so grief stricken that he couldn’t function at either of his jobs and was let go by both.

Jessie called both employers and asked what they were thinking. Why hadn’t they given the man a bereavement leave of absence instead of firing him?

The response from each company had been the same. Each company’s union contract allowed for a short bereavement leave. They each give him a week. They claimed that length of time should have been enough. When he still couldn’t cope with his duties, he was terminated. End of story.

Jessie thought the attitudes of the companies involved were completely outrageous. As far as Jessie was concerned, if she had anything at all to say about it, the decisions of those companies would not be the end of the story! She immediately called Reginald Harper, her attorney, for instructions on what she could do for Sam. Reggie had been sympathetic but told her that legally, or otherwise, both companies were within their rights to fire Sam. He said he was sorry but he couldn’t see any way she could force them to rehire Sam.

Legalities be deuced, Jessie was not going to be stopped.

"I can honestly say that I know what Sam told me is true. I really feel the man deserves the Fund’s help. He doesn’t drink, take drugs or even use tobacco, and Jim Boles, the volunteer in charge of the Rescue Mission, says that when he arrives every morning to open the kitchen Sam is waiting outside offering to help.

I still need to discuss it with Burney. I hope he will give me some sign, something that will let me know he agrees before I go forward with implementing the funds from The Castleman Fund to help Sam."

Her brush suddenly stopped half way down as the thought occurred to her that she needed to think about her most important need for the morning. A secretive grin had the corners of her perfect Cupid’s bow lips rising as she finished that brush stroke. I’ll see what kind of mood Maureen is in this morning before I tell her what I have planned for today. If she is in one of her over-protective moods again, as she tends to be when I mention Burney, I may not even let her know what I plan to do so she won’t hassle me about going to the cemetery. Which I will have to do first so I’ll be satisfied Burney would do the same as I plan to do. Then, when I go to the bank for those Cashier’s checks I ordered last Friday I’ll know whether to order a Cashier’s check for Sam that I can pick up later today.

I’ll take the checks to Reggie for him to examine and mail. Then, if I don’t spend too much time talking with Reggie, I’ll go into Seattle to shop for a suitable evening gown to wear to Saturday’s dinner-dance benefit in support of our local Firemen and Law Enforcement personnel. Then I’ll stop at the Bank to pick up that Cashier’s Check for Sam and drop it off at Reggie’s on my way home.

Thinking of Saturday night’s affair at the country club again brought the depressing thought of what Gerald had inadvertently confessed back into her mind. She again grimaced at herself in the mirror. Get over it, Jess, she ordered. Gerald and all men, for that matter, are out of your life for good. It’s time to move on to better, more fulfilling things.

Giving herself a mental shake, she couldn’t help but ask, But who is going to escort me to the fund raiser? Oh, I guess I could go unescorted, but that would mean I would be in the position of being approached by Herman Oakes. Oh God! I could not stand it if that lecherous old man came anywhere near me. I always thought he was the biggest egotistical lecher in the Puget Sound region. Now I know that Gerald has that dubious honor! So I had better think of someone safe to escort me.

A few moments later, after mentally going over the available bachelors she knew, she disqualified all but George Witherspoon, heir to the famous John T. Witherspoon import/export fortune. Since G.W., as he preferred to be referred to, was a good friend and was presently unattached, she was certain he would have no objections to going to the function with her. She decided she would have to wait until after she left the bank to call him though because she knew he had been to last evening’s baseball game. She had no doubt that he had stayed until the game was over and had undoubtedly not left the ballpark until long after the last pitch.

That problem tentatively solved, Jessie stepped into her walk-in closet to decide how she should dress for the day.

When Jessie turned thirteen, to her mother’s delight, her father, sure his lovely daughter would need more space for a new wardrobe, hired a bed and bath contractor to remodel her small closet into a spacious walk-in wardrobe. The contractor had taken it upon himself to design the walk-in closet so that the garments would be arranged on an electronic track system similar to those used at dry cleaners. The garments, all displayed in color co-ordinate order of complete outfits were sectioned in the various types of formal, semi-formal, casual, and athletic wear. He had explained his reasoning by saying that if their daughter were rushed for time, all she had to do was press a button for that specific type of clothing and the track system would rotate until the section she wanted, complete with lingerie, hose and shoes, would be displayed in front of her. Jessie hadn’t really appreciated the design until she had turned seventeen and been to her school prom. She had stayed out all that night and had an early appointment the next morning. She had raced into her room, flung open the walk-in wardrobe doors, pressed the button for semi-casual outfits and, instantly had what she needed. Realization struck her at that point and she sat down right then, wrote the contractor a note of thanks and added a promise to visit his office soon. Both the note and the promise to visit his office proved unnecessary as, following her appointment she decided to drive there to thank him in person.

Jessie wanted casual clothes this morning and selected a floral print, white knee-length sundress with dainty fire-red chrysanthemums splayed over Kelley-green leaves, an outfit that would best show off her figure and emphasize her green eyes without detracting from the natural luster of her coppery hair.

Dressed for the day, and hoping her lifelong cook and housekeeper, Maureen O’Brian, who always insisted she take time to have a wholesome breakfast, would be occupied elsewhere in the house, Jessie hurried downstairs to sneak a glass of orange juice and a bagel slathered with cream cheese.

Her hopes were not to be.

As Jessie entered the small private kitchen/breakfast nook her Grandfather, an architect, had designed for casual family meals, Maureen was standing at the stove. She noted Jessie’s attire and welcomed her with a cross expression, then smiled and motioned to Jessie’s usual place at the small table. Her expression softened as did her Irish brogue as she commented, You’re up earlier this morning than I thought you would be, Jess. Your attire tells me you are headed into town or somewhere. Her voice hardened as she said, I know you so very well, dear Jessie. When you are going somewhere early like this you don’t take time to eat a good, healthful breakfast. I know you are in a hurry to leave. Please take the time to pause long enough this morning to have some fresh squeezed orange juice and eat this good breakfast I have almost ready for you.

Jessie negatively shook her head and Maureen quickly admonished, Now, Jess don’t you be giving me any of that ‘I’ve got to get somewhere’ stuff, either. Nothing is more important than having a wholesome breakfast before you start your day! Besides, you don’t eat enough at any of your meals to keep a bird alive, girl. If your mother, God rest her soul, were here, you know she would insist you eat a good meal at least twice a day. Tears came to her eyes and her voice broke as she finished with, Your mother isn’t here Jess. Therefore, it is left up to me to make sure you eat properly. Now, I’ve been working since six this morning just so you will have good, wholesome food to start the day for a change. Now sit!

Jessie knew Maureen was right and had her own best interests at heart. Letting out a resigned sigh, she pulled out her chair and sat.

Without giving Jessie a chance to get a word in edgewise, Maureen kept up a continuous dialogue while putting finishing touches to the breakfast she insisted Jessie eat. She informed Jessie that she had heard her come in late only because Gerald had called about an hour before that and, in a huffy, dismissing voice, demanded to speak to her employer. She said that Gerald had sounded surprised when informed that Jessie was not yet home. Then he said it was important he talk to Jessie as soon as possible.

Because of what Gerald hadn’t told her, Maureen said she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. In essence, though he hadn’t come straight out and said it, what