Understanding: Journal II (Author’s Cut)

© 2010 Hollie Delaney. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  01/21/2021

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3130-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3129-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3128-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011911539

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

NA T ‘EI-N

Author’s Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and events are a product of my imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

As always, thank you to the Dave Matthews

Band, Stevie Nicks and Yo-Yo Ma.

"WHEN I WAS HANDED A TICKET TO THIS PLAY I

DIDN’T REALIZE IT WAS MORE THAN ONE ACT.

WHAT A TREAT."

V. HAMILTON

Chapter 1

I woke to the cell phone ringing. Not on the bedside table, somewhere on the floor. I looked at the clock, 1:00 p.m. I remembered.

My eyes found James lying next to me wrapped in the blanket he’d asked for. So, so still. The normal chalky undertone of his skin now owned him. Even the maroon red of his lips took a backseat to the chalky tone. The drawings on his face were dull, not the vibrant black of awareness.

I touched his cheek and found the cold of raw meat. Slack. No underlying tension. I felt nothing returning my touch. No breath. My hand rested its weight on his chest for minutes awaiting the painfully slow contraction of his heart. Nothing. Yet, in the still, cold body lying next to me, there was something. He wasn’t what I would consider dead, not really. I wondered if his beautiful eyes held their lightning strikes. No, I couldn’t bring myself to be so bold.

I moved carefully off the bed not to disturb him. Smiled to myself when I realized that I could not.

The cell was in the pocket of my sweats. Mary had called. Closing the door, I left the bedroom. First night, first morning, let him wake in privacy. I was in one piece. I assumed he was, too.

Made coffee knowing I would fully wake after a much needed shower. Took the mug to my little home office and turned on the computer. Watching the ocean, I sipped coffee waiting for the computer to load very aware that I had broken my hard rule for the first time since moving into the condo. No male overnights. Ah, hell. Beginning the second cup, I returned the call.

What’s up?

Did I wake you? Mary sounded excited.

Not really. Just being lazy.

Contractor’s here working on the door and your window. Nothing structural was damaged in the fire. Are you good with the final plans? They were looking at the walls that need to come down. I think they plan to start the serious work. Excellent.

Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for asking.

Did you forget something yesterday, Vic? Did I? Ahhh, geez, Sam.

I’ll call him. Nina upset?

Not that I can tell. I’m going to have to pin notes to your coat. She said Sam called her and she had a lovely lunch. She told him you must have been OBEed. (Overcome by events.) When you’ve made nice with Sam call me back and tell me about the man on the horse. I’m waiting. Mary hung up and I cursed her great memory that had saved my ass more than once.

I called Sam and made profuse apologies asking if he was interested in trying again. He didn’t sound upset. A good faker or laid back, I didn’t know him well enough to know which. We rescheduled his interview for drinks tomorrow at four, same place. I penciled it in the calendar I hadn’t looked at since Friday. Not good. Maybe I should learn to set the cell calendar so it would yell at me. Yesterday I wouldn’t have gone, but at least I would have called with regrets. Using large red letters I wrote a big sticky note and stuck it on the refrigerator before pouring the third cup. Returning to the office, I scanned emails, sipped caffeine and tried to figure out what I would say before calling Mary back.

Sam’s fine. Rescheduled.

Good. So, I was on my way to the beach yesterday and I saw you on the horse with the guy from Billy’s pen and ink drawing, this time I couldn’t see the body art. Just tell me Vic, yes or no so I can call Cheryl for the name of her shrink. Okay? I took a moment to think.

I was on the horse.

That’s not what I asked. The same guy I saw before, right? With the tattoos from the picture? Don’t bullshit me. The talisman rolled against my ankle and the bedroom door opened to a delightful sight, alive and well. You there?

Ah, yeah. Just a second.

He’s there isn’t he?

Answer if you would like, James offered and I wondered if I would like. Mary would remember the condo rule. I had never out-and-out lied to Mary. To start now for a guy, no way.

Yes. Yes to both. I waited for her to say something, anything and she took her time.

You broke the rule, Vic. Knew it wouldn’t last, but thanks. Billy said things over the years, especially towards the end. He was right, wasn’t he? My view returned to ocean swells. Mary’s questions required thought, not distraction.

Depends on what he said.

That’s a yes and you’re evading. What a hoot! Don’t worry. I’ve never said a word about our talks, I’m not starting now. Boy, that’s a relief. I thought I was losing it. Does he have the necklace? Oh! He was at the funeral home. In the momentary silence that followed I could almost hear the click, click, click in Mary’s brain. He released Billy, let him go, right? All I could do was take a big breath. Victoria?

I’ll ask and yes. Your cousin did tell you. I sure hadn’t and no one else but the Funeral Director knew about Billy’s guest.

Of course. Are you allowed to talk? You sound a little distant.

Of course I can talk. Crazy Kenny and his friends bother me. That’s all.

Yeah. I drove past the office and around the block before coming in today. If you leave time tomorrow before your Closing, can we walk to the park for a few minutes?

Sounds good. Call if you need me. Phone closed, I turned my chair to find James standing in front of me.

He stood without expression, still wrapped in the blanket. The chalk had receded from his skin. The drawings were sharp again and those lips, those eyes. My heart skipped a beat. Was he happy he’d spent the night? Hard to tell without body language. I smiled, stood and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Welcome back. Felt you wake but no tickle.

You are here. His arms opened with the blanket stepping closer to include me when they closed and, oh yes. My fingers found the bare skin of his back, again relieving me of an unrealized homesickness. The plus to his staying the night was being greeted like this. The minus? No work getting done when distracted and the broken rule. GoodmorningVictoriaIdisturbedyoursleep.

Slept great. Just got up. How’d you do?

"IwokeIamalwaysgratefultowakeThankyouforallowingmetostay

WakingtoyourvoicemademyheartsingMaryisgood." My thoughts raced to add inflection and punctuation to his words, but when it was done I understood. He was pleased.

Seems to be alright. You knew that was Mary. You heard the conversation?

Yes. He’d known before he’d stepped out of the bedroom. I gave him a moment to explain and received nothing.

She passed us riding to Ledge House yesterday. Had passed you coming here last weekend. Apparently Billy and she talked over the years, yadda-yada, and she’s started putting things together. You don’t seem surprised.

YaddayaddaIdonotunderstand. He thought the expression was serious. I laughed.

Just a phrase. Rather than saying etcetera. I stepped out of the blanket, grabbed my coffee and returned to the chair. His eyes followed. I tipped the coffee mug to him. I’m not a morning person, need coffee to kickstart. Technically it might have been afternoon, but for me, it was definitely morning.

"IamalsonotamorningpersonMarybeginstounderstandShe

couldnotlivewithBillyforsolongincompleteignoranceVictoriaMary

doesnotknowmywheeldoesnotturnBecautious." Yet again, it took me a moment to add meaning to his words.

(I must note to a reader of this Journal that James speaks without cadence or punctuation and, at times, it drives me nuts. Rarely will his voice soften, deepen or shout. He speaks without the breaks, breaths and the emphasis we all use when speaking. Add this to his lack of facial expression and body language and it is my brain that adds those little extras as I listen. The words you read here, James spoke. The punctuation of his speech is mine. I add it to this writing for clearer understanding. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong. VH)

Thanks for the heads-up. She wants to talk tomorrow. Do you have Billy’s necklace? She’s been looking for it.

Yes. The amulet. No. It will be returned to Billy when I know him next. James looked at the computer screen. You are able to access information for the apartment next door. What? Oh, subject change.

Sure. A couple of key strokes later he was looking over my shoulder scanning the north condo information. I moved through the fact sheet and into the pictures.

May I. James moved the trackball around the pages before they could finish loading. A mirror as you said. It would be good if we controlled the apartment. Acceptable Victoria.

For Padma and Raam? They should see it first. I thought about my standard objection - Clients, friends or family for neighbors. Life would be easier without the need to hide his horse from strangers, but how long would he last, and I would be stuck with the neighbors. James, I have a rule that’s served me well over the years. I make it a point not to have Clients or family for neighbors. Same for friends. Mary, Carolyn and my kids know I live here. Of course, Jay Matthews. No one else. It’s kind of… well… I was trying to come up with a phrase less coarse than I would normally use.

Victoria do not be gentle. Speak, he stepped back from my chair turning it to face him, the truth of your thoughts. Our homes provide refuge. Visitors cannot feed within thirty miles of the property or avail themselves of our Family. I continue to define limits. The property will remain vacant if you prefer. This does not matter. Unknowns should not be allowed residence. Whoa. How many subjects had he just tapped? Please contact the lawyer. I will inform Johnathan. He turned with the blanket and stepped into the living room as my thoughts opted for vacant.

As I scrolled Jay in my contacts, I created an offer price from, well, my gut. What the heck, had to start somewhere and my gut pricing, after twenty-whatever years in the business, was pretty good.

Hey Jay. Our friends want to purchase the condo next to mine. I’m sending the sheet as we speak.

Good morning, Victoria. You’ve been a busy bee. Price?

$550, no conditions. I guess Keirns will call you. Same company, I think. Same privacy clauses. Listing is Tina Daniels. Could you fax the Confidentiality Clause to her?

Sure, no problem. Seen the paper today?

No, not in the office. What’s going on?

Go to the front page on the net. Apparently Father Williams met with our paper’s star reporter over the weekend. Jim Olsen is being charged with aiding and abetting felons as we speak. Jay laughed. I’ll never get over that name. Anyway, he was picked up the minute the paper hit the street. About an hour ago. The Editor is raising holy hell.

Opening the local paper link while Jay was talking, front page pictures of Kenny, Father Williams and Charon on the right side of the page displayed. Ledge House on the left.

Charon playing property manager made me smile. His illusion to the public and his reality were visually not all that different as I thought about it. He retained the strawberry blonde hair and his navy blue eyes, but somehow he had added a few wrinkles around his mouth and eyes along with minor age to his skin, implying humanity. He had combed his hair straight back, added a suit, a slight tiredness to his shoulders that subtly hunched his six-foot frame with the added weight of extra tissue. Charon was Everyman.

Without thinking, I turned my chair and was surprised to see James standing in the doorway. Most people would have entered resuming their position in a room. James hadn’t and I found that interesting. I waved him over pointing at the screen. He glanced the page and left the room again.

I’ll point it out to Keirns when he calls and let you know when you can pick up the Offer for Tina. Phone’s ringing, got to go. Have a good one. Jay hung up. James again remained in the doorway.

Victoria. I must return to the big house. Ride?

Everything alright?

Zara. A crucifix was placed upside down inside the gate. Do not be concerned. I must… I will return. Dress warmly.

He entered and lips briefly touched mine before he returned to the bedroom. A second at the alarm pad and James was gone. Another turn of phrase took on a new level of meaning for me: moved like a bat out of hell. Well, maybe not hell.

I gave Tina a quick call about Jay’s fax and the coming Purchase and Sale Agreement Offer. The more I spoke to Tina, the more I thought about the condo. James was right. I didn’t think I would have used the phrase ‘control of the apartment,’ but it was the truth. Tina didn’t hesitate when I explained the confidentially request that would be faxed, nor when I asked her …to please honor it.

Tina has always been a no-biggie kind of Broker when reasonable requests are made. I’ve never known her to play power games. She was a happy camper to hear about the Offer. If there was a sale, it would return her up-coming summer.

I had spoken to Tina once about moving her license to Classical. Yeah, another woman, but there are always exceptions. Unfortunately, she had pointed out that the little agency holding her license was down the street from her farm and she was comfortable. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I understood.

Tina’s farm is off Island; Little Compton to be exact. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes by boat off the east side of our little, eighteen mile long Aquidneck Island. In the summer, tourist season, it’s a traffic-clogged drive into Newport of at least forty-five minutes, sometimes more. I knew exactly how she felt.

I picked up a couple of Listings in her area a few years ago. Showing them killed most of a day, not to mention the time required to re-learn Little Compton’s Town Hall, get access to its information and people, and re-learn the politics of a town government I rarely used. My summer that year had been lost.

Delivering the Purchase and Sale Agreement to Tina in March would take twenty-five minutes or so. Not bad. We had a very nice, quick talk resolving to get together for a social, no business talk, dinner.

I took the time after the call to make the bed and shower. Summerscaping came to mind. My little spring tradition for end of winter doldrums. After years of repeated waxing of ashy blonde hair there wasn’t all that much, but being body-hair free always felt good.

While in the shower I noticed that now I had one hairy leg and an unintended Brazilian. My fingers and eyes couldn’t detect stubble or even hair follicles where the tats — wrong word — spirits resided. Wow. A benefit and I wasn’t complaining. I had figured James’ lack of body hair was genetic, but maybe not so. The question was added to the massive mental list that would probably never get asked. An appointment for one leg? Right. I grabbed a razor.

The cell rang before I was dressed and, not thinking, I answered.

Hi Jay. Can I give you a quick call back? Even though I couldn’t be seen, clothes were a must. Yeah, one of those things.

It’s me. Sorry ‘bout that. I zipped the cords one handed.

No problem. Offer’s ready. He sounded pleased.

That was fast.

Very. Plug-in numbers, Seller’s name, property location, condo filler and date. Universal replace is a wonderful thing. Good Faith check’s ready, too. Tina’s Confidentiality Agreement is faxing as we speak. I assume you’ve spoken to her. Is there going to be a problem?

No, not with Tina. She’s happy as a clam. No lost summer if this works. Jay, I’m going to have to clear some stuff before I pick it up. I didn’t expect this today. I’ll be by, just not sure of the time. Oh, did you tell Keirns about the article?

Yeah. He thanked me. No comment. Asked for a call when the Agreement was complete. I asked for parameters. Keirns said whatever Mrs. Hamilton could manage would be fine. That’s a first. Care to comment?

First I’ve heard of it. Keirns still has to sign. Is he stopping by?

Said he would momentarily.

I guess he’s just not interested in the back-and-forth bull on such a small amount. The thought made me smile. Jay chuckled. Anyway, got to change stuff around, but I’ll be by.

As I thought about it, I couldn’t picture either of the boys involved in this type of a negotiation. To them it would be, well, not important. Come to think of it, I bet neither of them spent time on things that didn’t seem important or… shit. Was I the current challenge? I told my doubting mind to shut up.

I slipped a sweater over the tee, finished clipping back my hair. Wondered if I should leave a note on the garden door or call Johnathan? Probably should call. After another five minutes of debating with myself, I called. No answer. Left a message for James on Johnathan’s voicemail.

I was walking back to the car from Jay’s office when Johnathan called. I answered to clicking and buzzing before the connection finally cleared. Dang cell. Hello. Are you there?

Victoria?

Yes. I think my phone’s being weird. I can hear you now.

Do what is needed to acquire the apartment. James will find you later. Do not worry. Worry? Why would I worry?

Consider it done. Tell him I’ll see him when I see him. I listened to a moment or two of quiet.

Yes. Fine. His phone disconnected and I wondered what he really wanted to say.

I called Tina, asked if she had the Confidentiality Agreement in hand. She did, was faxing it to the Owner.

The P&S is done. Can I come up?

Sure. When?

On my way. Might as well do it, there wouldn’t be time tomorrow. Figured today’s horseback riding was out. I loaded one of my favorite CDs and kicked the volume for the ride.

Tina’s office was in the center of Little Compton, population about 3,500. One elementary school, one volunteer fire-department building, small police force, two cars - or was it three now? Town Hall with out-of-place modern add-ons.

No town water - private wells. No sewer - private septic. Minimum residential lot size - two acres and a conservation tax of four percent after the first $75,000 of the sale price. Given that a house price is commonly over $300,000… well, do the math. That’s it. That’s Little Compton. Need milk at night after the local store/lunch counter closes? Take a twenty-mile or more drive. I would never be organized enough to live in Little Compton.

Tina was waiting for me when I walked in. Let’s go into the conference room, Vic. How was the ride from the big city? She was laughing.

Good. Nice break. How’s the farm? I don’t think we’ve spoken since last fall. No. I saw you at a Christmas party, didn’t I?

Oh, right. I think we had time to bitch about Christmas presents. Farm’s fine. Too much work, but fine. How’s your world? Congrats on Ledge House. Good sale and Mason selling the hotel in the same week, why aren’t you retiring? She may be in the boonies, but Tina kept her finger on the pulse of the business.

I think it crossed my mind. But hey, what would I do? I picked up the space next door so we’ll have a real conference room and our own bathroom. You know you’re always welcome. She can tease me, I can tease her.

Actually, the owners of this place are going south. I’m playing with the idea of buying them out. You interested? I was going to call anyway. This is fortuitous. Tina looked at the envelope in my hand. I didn’t see you with anyone at the open house. These Buyers haven’t seen the condo?

Think I could grab some coffee?

Sure, cream or milk, can’t remember. I should have one, too. I have a mare that I swear is going to foal tonight. Tina stepped out of the conference room and I had a moment to think.

Another office? I wouldn’t consider it alone. With Tina, maybe. She returned with two cups that smelled, well, like our coffee. I had shared my coffee source a few years ago.

Are you serious about picking up this brokerage? Have you given any thought to a business model, or how you’d run it?

Yeah, I have. The only way I’d do it was with permission to use yours, Classical’s. It seems to work with minimal hassle. Has anyone ever left you for another agency?

No.

I hear you’ve turned people down. Oh, a very small world indeed.

Yeah. The first inquiry a year in told me the model was working. I did turn him down. He was a guy who’d told me I was out of my mind when I started. I’ve got to say, that felt really good. A few others, but you know me. Picky, picky. When you have some numbers together, give me a call.

Your buyers are Clients?

Always. Buyers with a capital B.

Going to live there full time?

No. I think it’s to have a small place on the water here. They’re serious. I opened the envelope.

Quite a detailed confidentiality requirement. Paranoid? I shrugged.

Cash will show at the Closing. Don’t know what else to say.

Hmm… cash. You know them well?

Yep.

In the time it took you to get here, I got the Seller to sign and fax back. She slid the Confidentiality Agreement across the table. Original is being over-nighted. She didn’t think she’d get an Offer this fast. Honestly, in this market, neither did I. Have your people been looking for a while? Normal questions.

Tina, they’re serious about the confidentiality. I’m not being rude, but if they were here they’d ask you ‘what does it matter?’ I shrugged my shoulders again.

Even that?

Even that. I pushed the P&S and the check across the table. 550, no conditions. Close as soon as the Seller is ready. Tina checked the important pages.

No inspections?

None.

Let me make a phone call. She stood with the Offer and her coffee.

Take your time. The door closed behind her and I dug out my cell phone. Tina would have to do some serious talking to her Seller.

Ames, Hi. Victoria here. How’s it going?

Fine. I’m at the office and the contractor is trying to remember where he actually ran the electrical in the wall. Guess it won’t be long before it comes down. Why’d you call?

Just checking in. You have two Closings this week don’t you? Any problems?

Everything seems to be fine. Buyers are excited. Hell, I’m excited. Thanks for the talk. Thank you so much.

You’re welcome. If you need anything, let me know.

Thanks Vic. I couldn’t help but wonder if Tina would make phone calls like this, pay attention to her people or would I end up adding Little Compton to my day?

I looked around the conference room. No windows, even though windows would have been easy and geez, what was under the industrial carpeting? The carpeting along with the fluorescents would have to go. Drop ceiling would have to go. Actually the office, a stand-alone, shallow-peak building, would be a gut job. I would have to check out Classical’s investments before Tina and I talked. The door opened.

So, she has a counter. Tina returned with cell phone in hand. 690, Close on the 15th. She wants to know who’s going to live there. Do you want to make a call? We were going to do this right here, nice.

Close the 15th, no problem. I thought for a second. What can I say but, what does it matter who lives there? I know you’ve probably said it. Tell her I said that I don’t want to get involved in anything that could be construed as discrimination or steering. How does that sound to you?

Not bad. When in doubt, use the law. I like it. Tina was smiling.

As for price, you’ve run the numbers in that building. It’s a garden apartment, Tina. It’s the basement. I thought for a minute. The south unit sold for a little more than half of this Offer price. The comps in LSS are all the upper units and their interiors are spectacular. They’ll go 560. Higher would be pressing.

Victoria, the view is wonderful. How do you know what the south unit sold for? Oh, tax stamps.

It’s not Ocean Drive or Bellevue. 560, that’s it. Is she waiting for your call? I wouldn’t mind walking out; give me a chance to look at the rest of the office. Tina thought for a second.

Yeah, go ahead.

I closed the door behind me and seriously scanned the space. Full bullpen. Ick. No privacy for any of the agents. Desks looked like old Navy issue. So did the file cabinets. It didn’t look like anything had been reinvested in the property or the brokerage. I found the utility closet, opened the door and had a real holy smokes moment. Fuses and a kluge of phone and computer wires. It was amazing the computers worked at all.

Carpet is rarely run into utility closets. The floor looked like original beat up wide pine that ran out of the closet under the bullpen carpeting. Wide pine could be nice. The few windows in the rest of the office looked original too, but years of paint made them nonfunctional.

Restored, the building would be nice. I have some pictures of it taken pre-WWII. Tina was at my back. She’ll take it, Vic. Not thrilled, but wants to move on. Seriously not happy about the lack of gossip on the Buyers, but she’ll live. We walked back to the conference room.

Let me try to get to Jay before he leaves for the day. I called, relayed the information, including my current location. The Phoenix on my back started itching like bugs were walking over my skin. I shivered as Jay spoke.

It’s a shame to pull everyone into the office to change a few numbers and add a date. Victoria, initial and date the new numbers. Get Tina to deposit the check. It’ll be binding. I don’t believe Keirns will have a problem. Do the same for the Closing date. Put the 15th, 1:00 p.m., initial and date. Good for you?

Sure. I’ll drop a copy by your office tomorrow morning. Jay hung up. I assumed he would call Johnathan. I made the changes on both originals and asked Tina for a copy.

Your Buyers won’t have a problem?

No. Jay asked that you deposit the check ASAP. It’ll make him warm and fuzzy. Overnight to the Seller? I won’t be happy until I have original paper with her signature. You know the feeling.

Know what you mean. I’m putting it ‘Under Contract’ in LSS when you leave. Don’t worry. Deposit in the system, too. I picked up my copy of the P&S from the machine and headed to the door.

Everyone here Brokers? I wondered if it would be too much to ask her for a back scratch before I crawled out of my skin.

No, just me, but that can be remedied. I’ll give you a call when I have my numbers together. Good meeting. Maybe worth the ride for you. Tina laughed.

Definitely food for thought. Let me know when you have an original back. Talk soon. I walked around the outside of the building before I left. Music on and thinking about another office, I was back on the road.

Made a drink when I got home and turned on the CD player trying to ignore the itch of the dang Phoenix across my back. Sat in the office making notes rather pleased with another unplanned day, so much better than sitting in a corporate office. Consistent paychecks and 401K programs are nice and I had done some serious time in the world of power suits when the kids were young, but I had never cared who did what or how productive my own work was. It didn’t seem to matter.

Notes done, I started laundry. Life does chug along, no matter what’s going on including the itch that James had said was temporary. I tried to rub my back against the wall and that didn’t work, but the doorframe did, a little. Nice to know.

After answering the call of nature and refilling the drink, I returned to the doorframe determined to find relief. After another ten minutes of serious scratching and half of the fresh screwdriver, the skin across my back fluttered with a tingly flush that ran to my toes and took my balance. I slid to the floor and closed my eyes. Not a bad feeling, just odd.

When I opened my eyes, I could see the bumps in the grout of the tile in the bathroom from my bedroom door; the different shades of grey mixed in the tile color on the other side of my dressing room. What the hell? A couple of big breaths and my legs steadied when I stood. I walked out the garden door for a few more breaths of crisp ocean air to clear my head.

From the patio the waves on the beach were fully in focus, not their usual blurred white line in the distance. The small amount of bubbly foam remaining when each wave receded was detailed. My eyes went to Hanging Rock and the bushes on its sides were individual, its bare spots reflecting moonlight. A half-moon surrounded with stars, nice.

The dryer’s ding interrupted the low, background sound of the rolling ocean and I returned to the laundry. Upstairs, the unit’s owners were home. I heard… no… I felt them, an awareness, and the more I focused the more I knew of them; home from a party with a good buzz on. I plugged my ears to make sure and even though there was serious sound dampening between floors, nothing changed. The sound dampening had been a selling point of the building when the conversion occurred, but it had nothing to do with what I was aware of that night. What the hell, I wondered, from the Phoenix? Holy moley! and I had to push back a threatening panic attack.

A step forward… or backward… or maybe sideways. I didn’t have a clue. Would it be gone tomorrow? No idea. I laughed out loud, blew off the laundry, grabbed a blanket and returned to the patio. What the heck, enjoy while I could.

The night was beautiful: ocean, stars, beach. The more I looked, the more I focused, the more I could see.

Very beautiful, the voice said and James sat beside me, arm around my shoulders. His presence behind me was not the surprise it should have been.

I can see the bubbles in the foam on the beach. Zara okay?

She will calm. We sat quietly for a time.

You are cold. He spoke the words and I felt the chill but didn’t move when he stood. Please. Come in Victoria. I remember thinking that the heat rolling out of the patio door felt nice, yet my fixation on the beach remained until his fingers touched my shoulder. Victoria. Come in yes?

I finally stepped into the living room and that is when I truly saw James. Really saw him; his detail, the light in his eyes – individual lightning strikes within their black irises as if each flash contained depth. The tattoos, the spirits – very much alive as they appeared to ‘roll’ ever so slightly under his skin.

Of course I had looked at him before, but apparently I had never ‘seen’ him and he was amazing. His eyes continued to return my stare, his face without expression and I couldn’t believe that he had actually come back to the condo, come back to me. I shook my head and smiled.

Sorry, a little spacy tonight. My back itched so I rubbed it against a door jam.

The itch continues. I am sorry. Why he should be sorry was beyond me. I asked for what I really wanted.

May I have a kiss? Before I could blink his arms were around me, his mouth on mine and I was home, again ignoring the rational part of my brain.

Hands moved under the sweater, under the T-shirt and chemise, chasing the bugs around the Phoenix and beginning the relief of tension that comes from an unscratched itch. It was heaven.

My legs began to give way and I started to slide down his body with the pleasure as my eyes closed. On the floor; on my stomach. Palms sliding across my back. Sweater, T-shirt and chemise over my head; cords gone. Heard more clothes tossed. Weight pressed skin to skin. Hands extended arms, legs wrapped and extended with legs. I was stretched as far as my body would allow. Relax… relief… flutter… relief.

Better yes? he whispered.

Ah… geez… so much better. I blew out a huge breath and his body relaxed.

Relief of the itch left room for desire and my thoughts could only imagine the man at my back. Mentally, I tried to replace him with the feel of other lovers and none satisfied. The concept was not a happy one in my world, but lying as we were that night in front of the fire, I didn’t have the will to toss him out.

Speak here. Talk. He wanted to talk? My arm was stopped when it extended to grab my T-shirt.

I can sit up. Thanks. His head found my shoulder and his heart lightened against my back. If he wanted to talk, this position wasn’t going to work. Seriously, I’m itch free for the moment.

This is good. The cross was not from… his weight adjusted along my back freeing himself against my thigh and I couldn’t help but shiver. A moment of silence came and went. Victoria words another time yes? Finally.

I laughed and rolled him to his back without argument. Thighs on either side of his hips taking his mouth with mine. His heart sped against my breasts, his shaft pressed against my ass and I wondered how long he would let me play. Heck, I wondered how long I would let me play and all thought of previous lovers disappeared.

My tongue explored the smooth skin of his jaw, the tendons, muscles, veins and arteries of his neck. By the time it slid over bones marking the width of his shoulders, my need for him was a knot of aching muscle. A rough, threatening growl vibrated through his body, then another with a reflective thrust and now blew through my brain.

Straightening my spine on shaking knees, I lifted over him curling fingers around his penis. The responding push through my fingers revealed all as I watched. Positioning him as I tried to breathe, he thrust again and I looked up. Those light-stroked eyes rose up my body stopping at mine.

You are spectacular, my friend, I said, smiling at the sound of my words.

In the moment that followed my hand stroked excitement down the shaft it held and I watched the drawings roll under his skin, felt his body tighten and the growl came again with words.

Allow. Please. Now.

He was as desperate as I was and, with the rise of his hips, I grabbed his wrists, the sensation pushing a guttural moan from my lips. His eyes closed and control of our movement became mine. How far, how little; where he went inside of me. For this brief time, he was mine.

The wave rose too quickly and I stopped. His eyes opened pulsing lightning-strike after strike – overlapping his irises and striking through the red. I smiled and allowed just a little; then more, then less, less, more. I felt his body vibrate and watched as the spirits skimmed over his skin revealing bits of fur, feathers and a shimmer of what, scales? I wondered, and he arched against me. I continued trying to think about the scales.

When my name came out of his mouth as a howl, the control I had attempted left me and I was flipped to my back. His arms tightly wrapped my shoulders, my legs wrapped the cheeks of his ass and each thrust took a different angle, a different depth as his body slid farther and farther up mine lifting my hips from the floor.

Without warning we crashed, yet he continued. The wave of orgasm crashed again and he continued. Again, again until there was nothing left of me but sweat and the rasping breaths of exhaustion.

Victoria. I whimpered at the sound of my name. It was all I had. His head rested against mine and I tried to gather my senses. When finally words formed, I said what I was thinking, the truth.

Sometimes there’s nothing like a great fuck. That’s what it had been, a freaking fantastic fuck like no other and to my words, James actually laughed a great, wonderful full body laugh I had not heard from him as he rolled to the floor and reached for the blanket. Unfortunately, by the time he spoke all evidence that the laugh had occurred, was gone. Such a shame.

Victoria come by the fire before you chill. I could not control longer. You would have continued yes?

I sat next to him, blanket around us. Not for much longer. Enjoy? Each flame of the fire had its own colors. I blinked trying to clear my vision. James was watching the fire.

The men who set fire to your office did not place the crucifix. The brother of Cheryl Kingston placed the icon.

I had to take a breath for so many reasons, the least being his topic change without warning. He had gone to crazy Kenny and his friend demanding the names of the ‘devils’ purchasing Ledge House. After various verbal threats they had Molotoved the front of Classical, seriously scorching its façade. Thankfully, no one had been hurt, but the office had looked like an over roasted marshmallow. And now the topic was Cheryl Kingston, Listing Broker for Ledge House with a big mouth that lacked discretion.

Cheryl has a holy roller for a brother?

Jesuit. We travel to New York. Again I must leave you. James was not happy.

To visit him?

No.

Just tell me. It’ll be easier than editing and forcing me to ask a million questions. He took a moment before extending his legs in a V.

Yes. Sit in front please. Touch yes?

I moved between his legs and scooted as close as I could against his body, but somewhere his adjustment found room and his body outlined mine touching all as his arms wrapped around my middle and his head rested on my shoulder. Exhaling the large breath I took seemed to deepen my sense of contact with him, my sense of home. Yes, my mental flags were waving. Yes, I ignored them knowing I would regret it.

There exists an Agreement with the Christian Churches with many of the old religious corporations. Each made as the faith gained structure. The Agreement with this corporation has stood since the exterminations. Before Johnathan. The Agreement vows to hold their secrets. In return this Church vows to tolerate our existence. Stop the hunting. As for all corporations vision becomes lost with time and honor is forfeit. He paused as his hand found my leg. Again the time has come for this corporation to remember. Charon will remain. Zara’s phone number. Charon’s phone number on your desk. Do not hesitate as yours is with them. Didn’t have a clue what I could do for anyone, but he was comfortable so I let it go.

See, no big deal. Do what you need to do. Take a shot at another question? Sure, what the heck. How many asra-pa are there?

Few. Five hundred. Maybe less. I do not believe there has ever been more than a thousand. I know others hear stories recognize if they come near. Rare if contact is made. Some may see us. Others do not. James really didn’t seem to care, he relayed what he perceived as facts.

Interesting. One more question if you don’t mind?

Victoria. Ask. I do not know what you find of interest. I have spoken only to Johnathan about many things but never freely as he…. James pulled me tighter against his body and the Phoenix rolled a shiver through me. I waited for the rest of his sentence but it didn’t come.

Are you more Shaman or more asra-pa? I had been wanting to ask that one for a while.

I do not know this answer. Johnathan is… asra-pa. Charon is asra-pa. You gain energy. The Phoenix the vine your spirits feed you as mine feed me. Bonus answer. Your back is good yes?

Truly comfortable. How did you stop the itch?

Your Phoenix is of the one I carry. James thought for a second. Half is now alone. Separate from its half from the others. Separate from you. In time it will not be… James searched for the correct word. Alone is the only word I can find. Thank you for your patience. Finding correct words… I do not speak of… I have not put words to such things.

No one asks you questions?

Many, and, as if on cue, we both turned to the garden door and found Johnathan standing outside. My time for greater understanding was up.

Standing for me wasn’t going to happen. James stood, making sure I remained covered by the blanket. He dressed, added wood to the fire and leaned to my ear.

You are my soul Victoria. Know this. He stepped to the door, opened it and both were gone.

I put on sweats, made soup and watched the fire burn down as I ate, mulling over his words. When I finally went to bed I wondered if I’d sleep with everything flitting in my thoughts, but when I inhaled his smell buried in the sheets, I crashed.

I knew it was a dream that played like a foreign language movie without subtitles. A trial, and if one of the few words I picked up was correct, it was unfolding in some already ancient place of stone and wood, mud and handcarts, tall pines and grey skies called Bruges.

A woman dressed in ragged grey wool, her hands and face bruised and muddy, stringy brown hair falling from an unsecured old white cap accused of calling demons or devils or some such unsavory thing. A very nervous looking man was giving hesitant witness as he focused only on the hat twisting in his hands. The man dismissed, the woman was questioned by three elaborately robed judges.

Whatever was asked, the already whimpering woman began stuttering her words as she tried to communicate over increasing cat-calls from a crowd of equally shabby onlookers. Something heavy was thrown and struck the side of her head with a force that bent her over bringing cheers from the crowd and hysterics from the woman. Instantly sentenced and shackled, both hands and feet, she was dragged through the crowd to the building’s doors as those near struck her. Down the steps and into a larger crowd outside, her stomach emptied all it contained as she was lifted into an aged wooden cart drawn by one shaggy, small horse.

The woman, splashed with black pitch on a pyre of sticks and brush, was tied unforgivingly to a thick evergreen limb and, without warning, the nightmare changed drastically. I could feel leather cut my neck and wrists; through the wool at my waist and ankles, and the hot pitch raising blisters on my skin. I reminded myself that it was a dream, but I couldn’t wake.

The three, no, not judges – priests, they were priests! stood at the edge of the sticks and brush, small books open in one hand. One spoke aloud, another held a cross, the third a lit torch. My attention suddenly went to the edge of the crowd – to a man on his knees fighting his own terror, a large black man bent to his shoulder, speaking. With the sudden smell of burning pitch and evergreen, I watched James through tearing eyes stand and shimmer revealing himself, but no one turned to look. I was the show. His spirits rose from his skin and, feeling a gentle tug from my gut, I was filled with home watching the body burn below me and hearing the cheers of the crowd.

I sat straight up in the comfort of my own blankets. Holy shit! But as my real life surprise began to settle, I looked around the bedroom realizing that, this time, the dream had been different. I wasn’t sweating or shaking. I hadn’t felt the fear of the woman, not truly her pain or emotion. The only sensations I experienced had come from my own imagination trying to fill in the blanks. I pushed myself against the headboard feeling sad for the James in the dream.

The talisman tickled, then buzzed and he was gone with the sun. I slid down the pillows, inhaled him and returned to a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 2

I actually walked into Classical at 11:00 a.m. probably more surprised than Mary. The front door to Classical had already been stripped of its blistering layers of paint and lightly sanded, as had the multi-paned bay window. The newly revealed carving on the solid oak door tempted me to ask for staining, not painting.

Good morning, Mary. Hi Georgette. Did you see that door? Could be original. What do you think of staining rather than painting?

Hey Vic, back at you. Funny, I was thinking the same thing. I wonder if the door to the other space is the same. They look about the same except for that molding on the edge, but with all the layers of paint, I can’t tell. Mary was sitting behind Georgette as she typed. Doing more than answering phones was progress for our new receptionist.

Ready for a walk? It’s not too bad out today. Summer might actually come.

Sure. Let me get my coat and gloves. Odd to see you this early, how ya’ doing?

I stepped outside to wait for Mary and check out the door to our newly acquired space. Interesting, but Mary was right. So many layers I couldn’t really feel carvings, just bumps under soft paint. I wondered if we could do a two-door illusion with only one actually opening? It would be attention getting, that’s for sure.

What do you think? Same door? Same carving? Mary stood next to me seriously bundled against the spring chill.

Let’s ask Joe. If it is, an implied double door would be a heck of a statement. I started our walk to the little park across the Avenue and a block to the south, determined that this talk would be to answer questions only.

So tell me, Vic. Are you really okay?

Seriously, I didn’t want to talk on the phone. James wasn’t stopping me. I’m fine. I should be asking how you are. So, how are things? She shrugged.

What should I say? Personally, I’m doing fine, especially after you told me Billy wasn’t stuck here. Shit, it was giving me nightmares, Billy in that box. I turned, smiled and patted her shoulder.

What did you want to ask?

So his name is James. Must be serious for you to break your rule. You were at the condo, right? Cell phone, I could have been anywhere. Why didn’t I think of that?

I was. Geez. I couldn’t remember if his name was on the bank letter Johnathan had given me. Right. Questions only.

Where did you find him? Did Billy know him? Is it true, all that stuff Billy said? We found a dry bench in the park.

Let’s see. He… we met. Apparently, they’d known each other for a long time. Like I said, I don’t know what Billy said.

Does he have the necklace? Can I have it back? Is he the guy in the pen and ink? Does he know when Billy did it? Mary, slow down.

Yes, no… ahhh… yes. A few weeks before Billy died. This was going to go on forever.

Why not?

Why don’t you tell me what Billy told you. The star is an amulet. It’s specifically for Billy.

Oh. Mary thought for a second and her eyes found the ground. Billy claimed that early on he lived with a very strong Shaman who could call animal spirits. He said that he saw him do it in Oklahoma… or was it Texas? Anyway, he would cut himself and call spirits. They would come and one would enter his body and stay. When it was settled you could see the spirit in his skin. After a while, the spirits just came. This guy was supposedly born with a bird on his back. She chased a lost hair in the breeze and looked at me. Anyway, he said that by the time he left this guy, he could see them moving in his skin. Sounds like Billy and his friend had some great peyote. Mary gave Billy’s story a nervous laugh.

He talked about how wonderful the time had been. I guess he spent a few years there. That’s where he got the necklace. He talked about souls not continuing on to wherever they go when the bodies weren’t cremated. Stuff like that. Interesting, I was learning, too.

Good. Now ask your questions.

Think Billy was nuts, Vic?

He told you about his experiences. He must have trusted you, that can’t be nuts.

Yeah, guess not. So why the pen and ink drawing? Not his style. Why now? I shrugged my shoulders.

All I know is that they spent an evening talking and telling stories. You know - old times. When James visited again Billy showed him the pen and ink.

He used to spend days and nights painting in that garage, so who knows what went on out there. Is the guy in the drawing James? Direct question. I took a moment to think, but there was no way around it.

Yes. My answer hung in the air while Mary just sat, curled in on herself looking at the ground. Her brain was trying to sort the best it could and, after quite a few minutes, I figured it was about to explode. I took a deep breath and made a decision.

Look at me, Mary. I’ll do it for you. James is the Shaman Billy knew and no, it wasn’t peyote. Billy saw what he saw, experienced what he experienced, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The whole conversation was funny. Enough to blow your hair back isn’t it. It was her turn for a big breath and she relaxed a little.

You’re right there; small world. You’ve always believed this stuff was real. I was never a church-type person, but I guess some of it stuck. I watched Mary zip her jacket all the way up and pull the hat over her ears even though the sun was warm and the breeze gentle. I think the chill was more subject than the weather.

You know Vic, since Billy I’ve had second thoughts, but it’s never been high on my serious consideration meter. He was always sure that someday it would be. He kept saying, ‘just wait, it’ll come to you’. She cleared her throat and crossed her legs. "I guess it has. Was it just a few times or are you seeing him, seeing him? James I mean, he spent the night. I’d really like to meet him