So Kay disappeared into the kitchen and left Annie in her room.  Annie climbed onto her bed and hugged her knees to her.  She looked across the room at her reflection in the vanity mirror and tried to clean her face up a bit.  She looked awful.  Her eyes still looked wide from fear and astonishment and were now red-rimmed from crying.

Kay came back in with two steaming mugs of tea and sat down on the bed with Annie.  She was still looking at herself in the mirror, thinking about how her outside appearance matched how she felt inside: mangled and raw.  Kay touched her shoulder, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Annie closed her eyes and turned towards her friend.  After a long pause she said, “I’ve never felt so young before…”  She opened her eyes and looked at Kay’s loving face, “I thought he was so great because he seemed different.  I thought he was original.  And it seemed like he needed me…”

“You couldn’t have known he would be this way, Annie, don’t blame yourself.”

Annie faced herself in the mirror once more, “No, I should have known.  I should have known on our first date.”

“What do you mean?”

Another tear rolled down Annie’s cheek, “He took me out to eat at some fancy restaurant and when were done eating, I started sucking on the lemon wedge that was in my water.  You know, I always do that.  My mother always said it was so bad for my teeth.  But I can’t help it, I love the way it tastes.  So I had a cute idea that I was going to kiss him when we got out of the restaurant because I knew my lips probably tasted like lemons, and you know, I thought it’d be cute.”  Annie paused, to wipe the tear from her cheek, “And when I leaned in to do it, he kissed me and then pulled back suddenly, with a mad look on his face.  He said, ‘What the hell?’ really aggressively.  I got embarrassed and told him that I was sorry and that was a stupid idea, and we didn’t talk about it again.  But I remember the look that he had in his eyes when he pulled back, and I should have known then.  I should have known then.”

Kay opened her mouth to say something and was interrupted by a cell phone ringing on the bedside table.  Kay leaned over to pick it up and answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Annie?”

“No, hold on one second please.”  Kay took the phone from her ear and handed it to Annie.  “It’s for you.”

“Hello?” Annie answered in a shaking voice.

“Hello, ma’am this is officer Rick Wallace from the Colby County Police Department, and I’m calling to ask if you know a young man by the name of Ian Greene?”

“Yes I know him.”  Annie’s mind was racing.  Why is this policeman asking about Ian?

“Can I ask what you’re relationship is to him?”

“He is…he was my boyfriend.”

“Well ma’am, we’ve tried to find contacts or family members of his to call about this, but we didn’t find any ID on him, and there were no numbers saved in his phone except yours.  We got his name from the license plate information on his car, but we are not sure how to reach his family yet.  But we decided to inform you, at least, since you were the last number he called before the accident.”

Annie’s heart throbbed in her chest. “Accident?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Ian was in a bad car accident on some back roads near Scottsborough.  Ran straight off the road into a tree.  Killed instantly.  Again, I’m sorry ma’am.”

Annie hung up on the police officer and looked back over at Kay, wide eyed.  “What’s wrong, Ann?  Who the hell was that?”

“Ian’s dead.”

***                                    ***                                    ***

Annie walked into the garish red room that smelled of freshly ordered flowers and musty suits that men kept in the back of the closer for just these types of occasions.  Her eyes wandered around the room, trying to get her bearings on the surroundings.

The emotions in her heart were in a whirlwind, but every other part of her felt dead.  She felt like a caterpillar must feel right after he seals himself completely in his cocoon.  Paralyzed and alone.

She felt that it was wrong of Ian to hurt her, but that he didn’t deserve to die.  And even though he wounded her deeply and made her feel vulnerable and small, she kept replaying to herself what her mother said to her when she had told her all about Ian, “Baby, I’m gonna tell you something that I learned from The Rolling Stones a long time ago:  sometimes in life you don’t like what you got, but almost always, it’s what you need.”

Still smiling at the thought of her mother quoting “The Stones,” Annie felt a tap on her shoulder.  When she turned around, she saw Jonathan, Ian’s friend standing in front of her.  “Jonathan, it’s good to see you.”

He smiled and hugged her, “You too, Annie.  I’m so sorry about everything.  I heard about everything that happened.”

“It’s okay.  I’ll be okay.  I know I will.”

“Are you just leaving?”

Annie nodded in response.

“Here, I’ll walk you out.”

When they reached Annie’s car, Jonathan tugged on Annie’s elbow and turned her to face him.  “Listen Annie,” he began, “I really am sorry about all of this.  I feel like I should have given you more warning than what I did.  Or at least gone about it in a different way.  But I know that you regret it…”

Annie stared down at the wet pavement beneath her shiny dress shoes.

Jonathan asked, “You do regret it, don’t you?”

Annie stared back at him, trying to find an appropriate answer for the question she was just asked.

Then, with quiet assurance, Annie turned her gaze back towards him and said, “Sometimes, what you need is not beautiful or pleasant.  Sometimes you need something terrible, and you don’t even know it, but you need it.”

A year ago now I was going through my families old Christmas decorations and I found my mom’s old Bible buried beneath the heirloom Angel that has adorned our families trees for generations.  I wasn’t going to open it at first, I had given up on God a long ago, but there was something about that Bible in my hands, it’s old worn white leather brushing softly on my palms, that made me want to know why my mother had ever taken such an old and dated book so seriously.  I had never really understood the whole church thing with the robes and the hymns and the praying to the unseen.  When I had gone to church with Dan over that year and a half that we were some what together, I had thought that I was finally maybe getting it, but that had all vanished once I decided no one would ever get me and no one would ever let their family hurt as much as mine had if they really loved that person.

I think that when I was little I had had a Bible of my own, but I don’t really remember it.  I know I never looked through it.  Dan tried to buy me one when we were dating but I kept turning him down telling him that I had one I just kept forgetting to pull it out on Sunday mornings.  I know he didn’t believe me, that he knew I was lying, but I always figured I could just pulled up what I needed on the internet if the time ever came where I actually wanted to know or cared about what it said.  The main point is that, before that night, a year ago, when I was going through those old decorations, I had never really looked at a Bible.  I had never really taken the opportunity to even flip through some of its thin pages and notice the poetic writing left there just for me.

But that night I did.  That night I opened it, hoping to find some kind of answer for why my family had been taken from me and why everything in my life was just constantly falling apart.  I didn’t understand what my mother had ever seen in this thing, but I knew that she had at least seen something.  So I opened the book, and barely finished the dedication page before I starting crying.

My mother received her white leather Bible on October 19, 1979.  It had been the week of her twenty second birthday, in a time before she met my dad, before she had even thought of children, before she had graduated from any form of higher education, while she was living in the projects of Western New York with her drug addicted older sister, scraping by on her own waitressing tips from the local dinner to be able to afford a McDonalds hamburger three days a week.  It had been a year that my mother hardly ever talked about but that you knew she remembered with every gory detail.

When I was fifteen years old, my mom had talked to me about how she had been molested and eventually raped by her landlord who was more than twenty years her senior during that year.  She told me that she had never said anything or even tried to do anything about it because she was afraid he would evict them and she and her sister would have no where to go.  She had told me this she said to warn me of the dangers that can come to you through a life that you don’t necessarily pick for yourself but that you instead let fate draw for you based on your own lack of good choices.  She had said she told me this as a warning, but I knew it was more than that.

I can still remember the tears that started to peak at the edges of both of her shimmering blue eyes as she told me the story.  My mom might have wanted to warn me, but more that that, she just wanted me to know that crap happens, life goes on, and you can’t always wait for someone else to help you change the chips.  She had wanted to share a little part of herself with me so that I could be a better person.  She had wanted to make that emotional sacrifice for me by going back and reliving a part of her life that no one would ever want to relive because she loved me, and she wanted what was best for me.  It wasn’t a pity-me-story; it was an I-love-you story.

In the dedication of her Bible, there were few words.  The date was really what got me.  It said that it was given to her by someone named Marge Stephens. Underneath the date and signature were the words, “Let go and let God,” followed by a short list of a few pointed verses that upon further inspection into the book must have been previously highlighted for my mom upon her receiving.

My mom never talked about Marge Stephens.  I really can’t remember her mentioning the name at all.  But I do remember her mentions of that summer, and I do remember her devotion to that book, and I do remember her always telling me to remember that no matter where you were in life, someone, somewhere, always had it worse off.  I remember all that now, just like I remembered it all in one big way on that night a year ago.

I broke down crying that night.  But it was a good cry, the kind that’s mixed with laughter so that when you taste the salt running down your face, you’re not overtaken by more sorrow but instead by more joy.

When I finished crying, I called Dan.  We met at a Waffle House down the street since it was open 24/7.  I told him that I wanted him to be the first to know that I had just accepted Christ into my life and had prayed the prayer that his preacher had talked about every week I had attended that church.  I told him I was thankful for all that he had done for me, that he really had been the one to spur me onto this new life of gratitude.  I told him I would always be thankful for that, for him, but that I didn’t see us together in this new phase of my life.

I think he was a little offended at first, but more so I think he was in denial of all that I was telling him.  When I pulled my mom’s Bible out of my oversize designer purse and showed him what I had found and the pages my tears had fallen on that had changed my life and brought us to this moment, his expression changed.  And you could tell he finally understood.

I’ve only bumped into Dan a few times since then.  I am still so thankful for all that he did for me.

My brother’s ended up coming home for New Years that year and we’ve celebrated every major holiday together since.  We’re racking up sky miles on our travels back and forth to see each other and hoping to cash in for a family trip to Greece next fall.  Our family’s growing too!  George proposed a few months ago and will be marrying Margaret this coming spring.  She’s a terrific girl.  Reminds me of mom a little in her being able to carry a conversation on with a rock and always finding a commonality with any situation.  I think she’s going to fit in just fine.

I met Luke a little over a month after what I like to call my huge revelation.  It was the most unexpected and wonderful thing that could have ever happened.  We literally bumped into each other at a Journalism conference in downtown Atlanta as we were both trying to rush to make our individual church’s Wednesday night services.  Needless to say he managed to spill my venti café slim mocha, with an extra eight-ounce dollop of caramel on top, all down the front and back my blue silk blouse.  We ended up spending the evening roaming Lenox for a replacement, on his insistence, and sampling the Chinese chicken from the fast food court.  Through talking we found out how much we had in common, one thing lead to another, and here we are today, happy and going on a strong ten months.

I actually called Meredith up last week, elated out of my mind at what I had just found Luke in potential possession of.

I was being a good girlfriend and taking Luke’s car to get washed at a local shop when I had to clean out his back seat so that they could vacuum.  As I reached under the driver’s side to make sure nothing important was about to get confiscated into the abyss by the commercial grade machines, I pulled out a small blue bag.  On the outside of the blue bag was the simple trademark logo of none other than Tiffany and Co.  Inside the blue bag was a single blue box.  Just big enough for a ring.

I know I’m going to marry Luke, I just didn’t know that he knew it too.

Meredith laughed and said that it was about time, but that she had never been worried.  She had always told me that one day my prince would come.

I’m just excited because her little girl will be turning four next month so she’ll be perfect as my flower girl…

This journal entry marks my last session with my depression counselor, Mary.  She had me start a journal the first time I went to see her, just a few weeks after my big break through last year.  For the first three months she had me write something new everyday, then for the next three months she had me read back through what I had written in the first three months.  Over these past nearly six months now, I’ve just been free to do as I wish, writing or not, but after those six months of constant writing, I found I was more easily able to say what I was feeling on paper rather than in real life.  But today, today I quit writing. (At least about this portion of my life.)

Today I, Erin Marie Armstrong, move on to bigger and better things.  To better and more honest open communication with those I love.  Today I give it all away in the knowledge that somewhere out there someone really does have it so much worse than me.  I give it away with the knowledge that I can let go and let God and it’ll all turn out perfectly.  Today I give it away with the knowledge that I’m happy.  Really happy, and that no one, not today, not tomorrow, and certainly none of my yesterdays can take that away from me.    I give it away with the knowledge that I have beaten depression and that I have beaten life of its never ceasing journey to make me crumble and give up.  I give it all away with no regrets.

So I sign off smiling, and happy, and content, and full.  Finally, full, and ready for whatever this wonderful life of God’s planned fate has in store.

I awoke to change, a new world of justice, revenge, and death. I lifted my head from Earth’s blood infused soil and slowly glanced around to realize man’s true goals. We live to die and die to live, but this is the result. Lifeless flesh surrounds me as I laid my head back to the ground. The sky was beautiful. I now understand why Alice loved it so much.

I want to sleep, but I know it’s not a good idea. However, I think this is a fitting death for me. The clouds are sinking back to the ground, my ears are being soothed by the sounds of the waterfall, and I’m alone. That’s the way it should be. Thinking back on it know, the last 10 hours of my life before I ended up lying here were satisfying.

I remember…

10 hours before

“Ok, Skool, you’ve been assigned to stealth in this battle. Don’t engage any enemy into you’re onboard their ship because you don’t have the weaponry to combat the Eastern mechs,” said the captain.

“Got’cha Captain. However, did we ever find out how many other energy breakers will be fighting on our side or theirs,” I asked.

“Yea, from our side, you’re the only one. After all, if any mech spots you you’ll die. No doubt. All we were able to make for you to wear is a slightly more aero dynamic suit armored suit, but for the most part, it’ll feel like you’re at work.”

“You’re right, I’m the only crazy person willing to do it. Any word on their generals?”

“Nope, we can only assume they’ll be inside their mechs, but you won’t have to worry about them. Just concentrate on boarding Gen. Enatsu’s ship.”

“Ok.”

The ship flew into formation with the rest of the fleet. This was it. My heart began to pound harder until I threw up. I’ve never killed anyone since my sister’s murderer, nor have I been in many fights growing up. All I could see before me was death, but it didn’t matter. I just needed to board Enatsu’s ship.

An announcement blasted over the intercom from Christian.

“Ready yourselves. Skool, prepare for take off outside on the deck, Dexter and you’re crew take care of this ship, Steve take your crew and the mechs and defend the ship, Bruce and Serena prepare to recover Skool if he lives, everyone else…don’t die,” said Christian.

I took off and awaited orders over my headset from the West’s commander. It began to rain and grey clouds roamed throughout the sky. Across from me were, a few hundred miles in front of me were hundreds of air ships.

“For all the soldiers and crews fighting for the West, remember all our sons and daughters we lost. Remember the hope that lies in front of us. We seek change for the future, and we’ll start today by putting the East in it’s place. Good luck!”

I charged my boosters on my board and prepared to travel as fast as the board could go. While traveling at 130 mph, I couldn’t turn my neck to see the rest of the battle, nor could I stop if anything were in my way. I was on a one way trip to the general’s ship, and it’s looking like the intel was correct.

I slyly slipped past the ships mech defense. Because I’m a board, I don’t generate enough heat energy to be noticed by any radar. The only way Serena and Bruce can track me is because I have a tracking device on me. Now the hard part, sneaking around on the ship.

According do the map I just need to head to the deck. I dismounted from my board. I walked slowly down the corridor until I saw a guard. As he turned around I quickly ran up from behind and snapped his neck. However, I don’t believe I did it correctly, so I just slit his throat.

It was slow and tedious like this for a couple of hours and by the time I reached the bridge my lower body was covered in blood. I stood outside of the door knowing that once I opened it, I would find the cause of all my pain. Behind this door, I could maybe find peace. I opened the door.

“Enatsu!!!!!” I didn’t care how loud I was.

Enatsu sat in front of me looking slightly confused. I wanted to kill him then, but I had to ask him what was the purpose of this war. I had to know why Alice really died. What was their true intention?

“Do I know you? You look familiar. You’ve got a shitty look to you. You’re covered in blood, swords gleaming red, and you dare to yell at me,” he said.

“You and your damn nation killed my daughter and millions of other children. You took Alice away from me, and you took my wife as well. What were your intentions for this Enatsu,” I asked.

“Derek? Ahhhh, that’s why you look shitty,” he laughed. “You’re wife would say hello if she were here. Oh, and what did you say about Alice? I’m sorry to hear that.”

I pulled out my sword and pointed it at him. He smirked.

“You think killing me will replace the children? I’m only following my orders. You kill me and they’ll just be another person to replace me.”

“So tell me why you killed them.”

“It’s simple. It has nothing to do with our former emperor’s death, but we just needed to clean the Earth. Purification was needed to restore balance. We just did what needed to be done.”

I ran at him and thrust my sword into his gut. He looked at me and smirked again. I reached for my knife and slit his throat. I had enough of his talk. His eyes rolled backward as he fell. I began to walk toward the bridge‘s exit and then I noticed a tall figure in armor. It walked toward me, pulled out a gun, and me.

At that time my world went black. I woke up and found myself being tossed out the airship, and as I fell to Earth I knew it was my time to die. All around me, mechs were fighting and explosions sounded off. I realized that the peace I had found was only temporary, Enatsu was right, Alice was still dead.

However, I realized that I wasn’t just fighting for her, I was fighting for all of those who died. I hit the ground. I think I’m dead.

Final Verse

That’s what I remember…I’m not sure what saved me, but I’m glad I’m alive. The sky never looked so wonderful. I lie here looking in retrospective and I realize that I want more from this life. Hours later, Serena and Bruce found me and told me the West won. As they took me back to the ship, I asked myself.

“What do I do know?”

My answer: Live.

“Need a light?” she asks, trying desperately to mask her fear behind a calmer expression.  She steps towards him slowly and stops several feet from where he sits, the lighter still in her outstretched hand.

Jeremy doesn’t move, can’t move, the cigarette hanging from his mouth, barely.  He reaches a hand out for the lighter, his gaze fixed on hers, but he makes no move to stand, and she makes no move towards him.  Finally, she breaks the silence.

“You didn’t used to smoke, Jeremy,” she says coldly.

He stands up and grabs the lighter.  He lights it, facing her, and takes a large drag, exhaling it less than a foot from her face.  She doesn’t move.

“Neither did you, Caroline,” he replies, returning to his spot in the cool grass.

“Well I guess things change, don’t they?”  She sits beside him, but not too close.

He looks at her for a while before he speaks, his face softening as he remembers the time that they’d spent together, much of it in Laurel Park.

“They don’t change that much, Caroline,” he says, a strange sort of tenderness in his voice.

She is taken aback by his words and by the tone of his voice, especially considering what he’d done, what she’d seen him do only a few nights ago to that little boy.  Had it not been for the nameless old bum who’d saved her from the fate she’d been pursuing with the booze and the pills, Caroline White may not have lived to witness the terrible crime that Jeremy had committed, Jeremy and the friendly balloon salesman.  It’d been dark and her mind had been clouded from the substances, but she’d seen enough in the shadows to sober her up significantly.  When the indistinct figures had moved closer to the path, into the dim glow of a light post with the boy’s lifeless body, Caroline had recognized them immediately, even from her hiding place behind a row of hedges.

She remains calm as she answers, “I’ve changed.  I’ve actually changed a lot, Jeremy, more than you know.”

“You look the same as you did the last time I saw you, still just as pretty,” he smiles at her.

She’s over his romance.  “I’m pregnant, two months, Jeremy.  The baby’s yours.  I’m positive.”  She lifts up her shirt to reveal a growing bump.

Jeremy stares, and he puts out his cigarette.  “So that’s why you’re here?  You don’t return my calls for two months, and now you follow me and tell me you’re having my kid?”

She can’t read his face; it’s either anger, pain, confusion, sarcasm, terror, some kind of emotional volcano waiting to explode in an undetermined direction.

“That’s not the only reason that I’m here,” she says, waiting for him to respond.

He pretends not to hear her, “What are you going to do?  You’re seventeen…”

“I’m fifteen Jeremy.”

“Well, then, to lied to me about your age, but I guess that’s not really an issue any more.  Caroline, why didn’t you tell me?  I guess that’s why you disappeared so suddenly.  You left me without any kind of goodbye; I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Caroline is almost positive that his words are sincere.

“You’re not the victim,” she says, no emotion on her freckled face.

Puzzled, he answers, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Summoning all of her courage and trying to remember the words that she’d rehearsed, Caroline speaks, “I saw you here the other night.  I saw you and that balloon guy,” she pauses, “I saw what you did to that little boy.  I saw everything.”

Jeremy’s stomach churns as he sees his perfect murder crumble before him.  His face remains calm. “You’re crazy.  I heard about that little boy, but if you think I had anything to do with it, you’re wrong.”  He tries to sound convincing, but he can read her, and he knows she’s serious.

“Really, Jeremy?  Don’t lie to me, I was there.”

“Prove it.”

His voice sends shivers down her spine.

“The cops would never believe a pregnant teen,” a twisted smile spreads across his face, “besides, I think that they found their guy, well, their girl.”

“I took a picture on my phone,” she says, and his blood turns to ice.

He knows that he’s lost this battle, but the war may not be completely out of reach.

Earnestly, he asks, “what do you want?”

“The money Jeremy.  I want the money that he gave you that night, the money in the backpack.  Not for me, but for my baby.  I’m going to get my life together and raise this baby on my own, but I need that money.  You give me the money, and you’ll never see me again.  I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, and I definitely don’t want you anywhere near my baby, ever.  Give me eighty thousand dollars or I’ll call the cops and tell them the truth.”

•••••

Several days later, an old homeless man sat beneath an old stone bridge in Laurel Park, drinking whiskey straight from a glass bottle and resting his tired back against the hard façade.  A strong breeze loosens a piece of discarded newspaper from the top of an overflowing trash bin, and the paper lands beneath the bridge within reach of the man.  He hasn’t read a newspaper in several months, mostly because the news doesn’t concern him and most news these days isn’t very promising anyways.  However, he can’t ignore this paper.  It’s the front page of the city’s largest newspaper, and on the cover is a story about the dead little boy whose body had been discovered recently in the park.  The story isn’t what catches the man’s attention; it’s the image of the boy’s nanny, the girl who’d been arrested for his kidnapping and murder, a mug shot on the front page of the newspaper.

Ray’s old grey eyes fill with tears as he stares into the blank face of his only daughter, the daughter he hasn’t seen in years, his little girl who’s grown up to be a murderer.

“All rise,” the bailiff called over the crowd of criminals whose charges ranged from traffic violations to drug possession and in the middle of it all was little Leigh Childrey – the girl who had single-handedly turned a public intoxication charge into harassment, disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest.  She wasn’t proud or boastful of her situation (except for the resisting arrest) which she claimed was the fault of America’s growing obesity epidemic – surely it wasn’t her fault the handcuffs hadn’t fit properly.  They could really make a 20/20 insider report on how fat people were obstructing justice.  But she didn’t have time to think about that right now.

“Where the hell is he?” Leigh repeated again to her equally worried boyfriend.  “I’m so fucking screwed it’s not even funny.”

“No one’s laughing, trust me.”  Harry opened her purse and began to rifle through the odds and ends.  He made a mental note to remind her to clean it out if they ever got out of this mess.  Why the hell does she feel the need to have two yo-yos and a pack of dental floss with her at all times? He finally found her cell phone.  She gave him a tear-filled look of worry when he started to leave without telling her where he was going.  Harry rolled his eyes.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m going to call Standridge’s office.”

Leigh watched him walk out into the lobby and then focused her attention on a woman standing behind a wooden podium.  She was calling out names in what Leigh perceived to be no particular order, certainly not alphabetical, which provided a little relief.  She might have a little bit more time for her lawyer to get here.  Leigh was so involved in listening to the names being called she hardly noticed Harry sit back down next to her.

“No answer.  I don’t know where the fuck this guy is.”  She was impressed with his profanity, especially considering that earlier in the morning, he had warned her not to cuss in court.  The stress must be getting to him too.  This both comforted and worried Leigh.  On the one hand he cared, but on the other, he seemed to have lost confidence that Standridge would ever show up.

So they sat and waited.  The list of names got shorter and shorter and Leigh knew that any second her luck would run out and she and her four charges would be judged without any legal aide.  She once again questioned her outfit.  Heels were wrong, she thought to herself then repeated out loud so her boyfriend could hear.  “I should have worn flats.  I need to look as small and weak as possible.”  She started crying.

Harry began to say something in the realm of comfort but was interrupted: “Leigh Childrey,” the judge called.  Visibly shaking, Leigh walked up to the bench, ankles wobbling in the shoes she regretted more than her criminal actions.  The judge watched her procession through leopard print reading glasses that were perched on the end of a sharp and skinny nose.

“Hi,” Leigh said because she wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Hi?” the judge repeated.  “Did you just tell me hi?”

Leigh’s face had turned a deep red and she began to do what she always did when she was embarrassed.  She started talking.

“Umm, well, yeah I said hi because I thought it would be a nice way to start things off.  I don’t really know how long interactions with judges usually take – this is my first time in court – first time to ever get in trouble, really.  I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.  Of course, I don’t have a car, so, it’s easier to obey that particular law, but as a full time pedestrian, I’ve never gotten in trouble for jaywalking or anything . . .”

“Shut up,” the judge said.  “Stop talking.  I do the talking.”

Harry watched what was happening with quiet discernment.  He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see his girlfriend’s head move around and her tiny hands flail which was usually the sign that she was rambling on about something.  From studying the judge’s expression, he guessed that Leigh was doing something wrong and/or socially unacceptable.

“I talk from now on.  You answer questions, okay?”

Leigh hesitated, not sure if that was a question or not.  She decided to go with, “Mmm-hmm.”

The judge squeezed her eyes into a very tight squint before continuing.  “What are the charges?” she said to one of the clerks to her left.  The man produced a large manila file with several official looking papers in it.  The judge read them for a while and then looked back at Leigh.  “What happened?  How on earth did a little tiny thing like you do all this?”

Leigh took a deep breath in and began to explain, but came up blank.

“Well?” the judge said.

“I don’t know.  I honestly don’t remember.  I think I might have an aggression disorder?” she squeaked out.  After a moment, she added, “By the way, I’m super nervous because my lawyer hasn’t shown up.  His name is Roy Standridge, I don’t know if you know him, but he promised he’d be here and I’m just so scared.”

About that time, an attractive middle-aged blonde woman stepped in to the room from one of the side doors.  Harry noticed her immediately and to his surprise she was staring right back.  After a few seconds, she motioned for him to follow her outside.

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Standridge,” she said while shaking his hand.  “You’re Harold, right?”  They took a moment to greet each other before the woman said, “Where is Leigh?  I’m supposed to meet her here.  Roy is in the hospital.”

“So after that happened, I just became really defensive around guys and I would say that I noticed myself gradually becoming more aggressive,” Leigh continued.  The judge had been reading more of the papers in her file while the little girl rambled away.  “I just wish my lawyer would have shown up.  I somehow knew this was going to happen.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leigh saw a tall blonde woman approaching her.  After turning around fully, she saw Harry was following her.  The woman bypassed her all together and went straight to the judge.  “Your honor, I’m Roy Standridge’s wife.  We had to take him to the hospital in the middle of the night.  He sent me here to request a rescheduling for Leigh’s case.”

The judge examined the three of them standing there.  Harry, in his jeans and Polo, looking uncomfortable and bored, Mrs. Standridge with her highlights and lowlights and impeccably tailored suit, and Leigh, wobbling in her heels with her hair frizzed out from stress and weather.  She took a deep breath.  “No.”

Harry and Leigh looked at each other sharing the same expression of horror.

“Request denied.  I can’t listen to this girl talk anymore.”  Turning to face Leigh, she said, “Childrey, you’re situation is just pathetic enough and more than irritating.  I’m sentencing you to twenty hours of community service at the animal shelter.  You’re not allergic are you?  Actually, I don’t care.  Twenty hours.  And an alcohol class.  And random tests for alcohol and drugs for the next four months.  Do all of that, and I’ll take these things off your record.”  She paused for a moment and stared down the little girl.  “And hopefully never, ever see you back here again, understand?”

Leigh couldn’t believe it.  Harry couldn’t believe it.  Mrs. Standridge looked satisfied that her presence had made such a significant difference.  After signing a couple of documents and paying the fees for the alcohol class, Leigh and Harry walked back to the car.  They both stayed quiet, wanting to get the hell out of there and not jinx anything.

That night after all the obligatory calls to concerned relatives were made, they lay on the couch together, Harry holding her, still cautious of her bruising.  She turned to face him.  “When do you think I’ll grow up?” she said.  “When do you think I’ll be a real grown up who does and worries about grown up things?”

“Not until you have to,” he said and kissed her forehead.  “In a way, I was actually kind of hoping this whole arrest thing would somehow snap you into the world of responsible adults.  I was hoping you’d get what was coming to you so you’d understand that you can’t just do whatever the hell you want.  But I don’t think that’s going to happen.  You fucking love animals.  Do you know how hard it was not to laugh when she said you’d have to do community service at the animal shelter?”

They both took a moment to laugh at her luck.  Then Harry pulled her in tight.  “This can’t happen again.  I know everything worked out, but that doesn’t mean it should have or will ever again.”

Leigh was still chuckling a little bit as Harry scolded her.  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said.  “I know all of that and trust me, I don’t plan on doing anything like that again, but let’s not think about that.  Let’s celebrate.”

“Celebrate how?” Harry asked, obviously thinking more devious things than his girlfriend.

“Well, we could go out for some midnight ice cream and play Skip-Bo!” she squealed excitedly.

“Yep, you definitely haven’t grown up yet.”

“Thank God,” she said with a smile.  And Harry smiled too; glad to have his little girl back.

W.

The treaty of peace with Japan was signed today to officially end World War 2. My life has been turned upside down and shaken since the start of World War 2 and I take this day as marker to end the chaos. Only one particular event had anything to do with WW2 but it seemed that our lives took a turn from for the worse as soon as our country entered war. I could not sleep last night for sitting up and watching Mary Carol sleep in peace, for the first time ever maybe. Everything is settled. I can finally breathe. Although, the memories of our past will still be there, and little things will sometimes remind us. But the important thing is that I want to be with Mary Carol and a part of this family as much as I did the day I left my parents and drove to her to ask her to marry me. I did not do everything right, but thank God she can see past that and love me the same. I am a stronger man because of her. The Treaty was used to end the war and help repay those that were hurt. I think it is time I repay those that I hurt, not only my wife, but also my children and my family. I do not know exactly how much of our crazy lives will effect the girls. I guess we will see the advantages and disadvantages of how our lives have affected them. Since the first ten years of their lives were mixed up in mine and Mary Carols mistakes its hard to know if they learned for the good or for the bad. I think I am going to go talk to my mother today. I will probably take the girls. I need to build a bond with her now that my life is stable.

I shouted from the kitchen “Breakfast is ready!” a few minutes later Mary Carol came into the kitchen and put her arms around me. She laid her head right in between my shoulder blades. It fits like a glove and I do not speak I just take in her warmth on my back and continue stirring my gravy. She kisses the back of my neck and my knees go weak.

“Mr. Mom are you this morning?”

“ Yes mam” I turn around and put my hand on her collar bone. I kiss her forehead because I know that is where she loves to be kissed.

“Girls wake up. Come on. Daddy cooked breakfast.”

Julia came down first still rubbing her eyes and I knew Mary Carol would have to go upstairs and get Rose; she is the late sleeper around here.

We finally all sit down at the table to have our favorite breakfast, biscuits and Gravy, scrambled eggs and bacon. I take a look at my three girls and feel nothing but happiness. I reach under the table and squeeze Mary Carols hand “Today’s the start to a new life girls, Japan signed a treaty today.”

M.C.

I should have always known I would come back to him no matter what. We loved each other from the moment we saw each other. For the first time in a long time we did something together, we conquered a battle together. We talked to Rose together. I was scared; the last thing a mother wants is for her daughter to think badly of her. I did not want her to think her mother was a murderer. It took enough to get that thought of myself out of my head, I couldn’t have her thinking it too. Luckily Julia was gone during the talk so we didn’t have to try and distract her as well as talk to Rose about this sensitive subject. So Walt walked Julia next door to her piano lesson and we took Rose out on the back porch, I was shaking and Walt could tell so he did most of the talking.

“Hey Rosie, so your mother and I just wanted to talk to you about something and we hope you do not get upset, or angry, we just want to clear some things up. Okay?”

“ Alright daddy sounds good but can we make this quick.”

“Yes baby girl, okay well your mother happened to see your diary a while back and”

“MOM, why were you looking through that! What did you see?”

She glanced her eyes at mine, which were filled with tears. She huffed and turned her shoulders back to Walt.

“Well honey, a while ago we know that you overheard a phone conversation your mother had about the child we lost. We simply wanted to clear things up with you and let you know that it was not your mothers fault.”

Rose began to cry and she moved from her seat to my lap, “Oh mama you didn’t do it, I knew you couldn’t have, I didn’t tell anybody.”

“ Thanks honey” those were the only two words I could get at I just held on tight and kissed her forehead. Everything was okay. That night I slept more peacefully than ever. I was back where I needed to be.

I woke up to my sweet Walt cooking our favorite breakfast. He has a light in his eyes that made my knees go weak as he was putting the food on the table.

There we sat, my family

my girls

my husband

There is no doubt in my mind whatever this world throws at us; I will always come back to those three people.

♦

After the crowd had left Rhinos, Ariel and Amy stayed behind to clean up and get the bar back in order. The girls sat on the barstools sipping cranberry juice until the guests left and then Jackson added in the vodka. Ariel couldn’t believe that she had successfully executed and pulled off a wonderful memorial. The guests had informed her that it was honoring and special, that it should really become an annual event.

“Jackson? Will you tell us a story about Adam Cooper?”  Ariel said.
He chuckled, “I suppose. What would you like to know?”
Amy chimed in, “His ability to write the perfect letter and say the most perfect things.”
“Amy? Wait, how do you know about my letter? …and it wasn’t perfect at all”  Ariel asked.
Amy rolled her eyes. “If you would have just listened to me earlier. I was trying to tell you that one of our professors gave us an assignment freshman year regarding letters. I found it odd, but Adam Cooper wrote me a letter. I was trying to figure out if this letter you were talking about was from the same assignment.”
“Adam’s best friend growing up handed me one of these ‘famous’ letters today.” Jackson said. “ I had no idea that he was such a writer to be honest. We talk about life in here, sports, crazy happenings of Bakersfield. Never in a million years did I think Adam would ever write me a letter.”

♦
Dear Dr. Roberts,
As I finish my final few hours of class and prepare for graduation I can’t seem to get my mind off of your final assignment freshman year. I guess I’m in a sentimental mood due to the fact that I’m about to transition into a couple of new roles. For one, I’ll be getting a job (let’s hope) and going off into the working world. College was fun, but I guess I am ready to grow up some. I’m going to have to. This will be the first time that baseball won’t be controlling my life. (although I’m sure I’ll find a church league or something like that to join) No more practice, or discipline though.
I found out the other day that I’m going to be a dad. It was weird because I was writing these letters and I kept remembering all of your advice and talk on making the best out of life. Sometimes we are going to be thrown so off course that we don’t know what to do. We can handle it though we just have to have confidence. You said in class three years ago that we “owe people” for shaping us to be the person we are. I guess I’m giving into your assignment and letting you know that you impacted me and I will take so much of your wonderful advice with me down this road. I’ve already written several letters that are very simple, but I’m hoping get my point across. I owe you and so many people for shaping me into the man I am today. Thank you.

I owe you,
Adam

“Sara! Hurry up or you are going to miss your flight.  I made a big breakfast downstairs and I would like for you to eat something before we go to the airport.” I think I mumbled something about how I would be down soon and hoped that would satisfy her.  I got dressed and went downstairs to have the last breakfast with my family for six weeks.

It was kind of sad.  My mom kept talking about how weird it was going to be for the next six weeks without me here.  My dad was sad as well and kept reminding me not to spend all the money he was giving me for food and some souvenirs on clothes after being there a week cause once it was gone, it was gone.  My sister was a little sad I suppose.  She said it would be weird, but unlike mom, she wasn’t almost in tears.  I think my brother could have cared less and his exact words were “it’ll be nice to have one less chick always in the bathroom.”

After breakfast, my parents helped me load up the car and the whole family went to the airport to see me off.  When we got there, Meghan, Lexi, and Abigail were there too, just to see me off.  After the fun task of having to go through airport security, we just sat in the waiting area and talked.  My flight didn’t leave for another hour.  Finally it was almost time for my flight to leave.  We said our goodbyes and I promised we would webcam and talk every day.  That’s when my mom lost it.  After promising I would call her everyday too, she finally calmed down a little.  As I picked up my backpack and got ready to say my final goodbye and get in line to board the plane, I realized that Ethan wasn’t hear.  Last night when we were in the tree house he promised he would be at the airport to see me off.  He had stayed until about three this morning until my mom finally came outside and demanded that he go home and I go to bed.  Then it came time when I had to board the plane, he still wasn’t here.  As I handed the woman my ticket and turned around to wave a tearful goodbye to my family and friends, I wondered if I was crying over them or because Ethan had let me down for the zillionth time.  If only I had known at the time what was going with him.

~*~

It turned out that Ethan overslept that morning due to staying out so late.  He woke up with thirty minutes to get to the airport and find me before my plane left.  When he realized he had overslept, he quickly got out of bed, threw on some jeans and shirt and raced out the door.  He made sure to grab the small black box sitting on his dresser on the way out.  He knew he had to give the promise ring to me today or he might lose me forever.

I was already on the plane when he arrived at the airport.  I thought I would never have a so-called fairy tale romance with Ethan it was just too hard.  Until he showed up in New York a week later that is.  He surprised me as I was leaving the dorm room I was staying in; he had flown up for the weekend.  He said he had something for me and had to give it to me now.  He actually got down on one knee and had a small box in his hand.  He told me it was a promise ring with the promise that we would get engaged at graduation.  He asked if I thought I could be with him forever.  Now even though I don’t believe in promise rings, I’m sure you can guess what my answer was.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt placed the coin on his desk in the Oval Office. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. He loosened his tie. Only a few days before, on April 5, 1933, he had issued Executive Order 6102 to stop the circulation and private possession of United States gold coins. Four years had passed since the stock market crashed, and still the economy suffered. Roosevelt and his advisors felt the Executive Order would help the Federal Reserve’s drained gold supply. Many Americans and institutions had exchanged their cash for gold during the bank failures of the Great Depression.

The president glanced at the coin on his desk. He hoped the missing one could be found. He glanced at his watch and took a deep breath. Senator Wagner would be there soon.

♦

“Up the stairs, to the right. At the end of the hall.”

The lady behind the counter pointed in the direction. Agent Jason Radford grabbed Clara’s hand. He told the lady thank you. Officer Kepper, who had been waiting to escort Jason and Clara out of the building, started to stay something, but Jason just nodded at him and turned away.

“We have to hurry,” Jason told Clara as they made their way up the stairs two at a time.

Neither of them knew why Agent Tim Luker had been chasing for the coin for a year. They assumed Luker knew about the coin’s curse, and worried what he planned to do with such a powerful object. If they lost the coin to Luker now, they knew they would never get it back.

Jason pushed open the exit and let go of Clara’s hand as he held the door open. She rushed though, greeted by a strong gush of cold winter air. She pulled her coat into her and tugged at the white scarf around her neck. She took in the afternoon brightness and tried to form a plan. She reached into her jean pocket and felt for the coin. She couldn’t believe she had finally found it. She imagined her grandfather’s smile.

Jason led the way, walking along the side of the building. Clara tried to take a breath. She noticed Jason’s athletic silhouette. He stopped at the edge of the building and Clara bumped into his back.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “What do you see?”

Jason turned and put his hand on her shoulder. Clara looked into his green eyes.

“Just act natural,” Jason said. “There’s a cop smoking in the front, I’m going to ask him to call a taxi.”

The officer took a drag out of his newly lit cigarette. He exhaled, the white smoke drifting up and then disappearing. Jason approached the officer, showed him his badge, and asked him to make the call. Clara waited a few feet away, trying to appear calm.

The disgruntled officer took his time walking to the station’s doors. Jason returned to Clara. They stood side by side looking out at the street. Clara had calculated that in less than five minutes, Luker would be leaving the station. She knew he would look through Michele Parker’s things, realize the coin wasn’t there, and make his way out. That is, unless the woman at the counter or Officer Kepper told him Jason and Clara had run off at the mention of another CIA agent in the building.  Clara kept glancing over her shoulder.

“I don’t know if we have time to wait on this taxi,” Clara said, looking up at Jason.

“It already feels like it’s been forever. God, what’s taking so long?”

“I know. I just feel like we need to hide or something. Luker will be walking out here any second.”

“Just give it one more minute.”

He sounded frustrated. Clara wondered if he would chase after her if she just started running. Then a bright yellow taxi turned the corner.

“Thank God,” Clara said. “Let’s go.”

Clara got into the cab and proceeded to direct the driver. When Jason tried to step into the cab he heard a voice close behind.

“Jason! Jason, stop!”

Jason turned. Agent Luker ran toward them, waving his arms and flashing his badge for the taxi driver.  Jason ignored him and shut the taxi door. He showed his badge to the old man behind the wheel. “Go!”

Half an hour later, the taxi pulled up to the entrance of Luxor Hotel and Casino, where Jason had a single room. The two raced through the casino and to the elevator. They hadn’t seen anyone following them in the taxi, but knew Luker would soon find out where Jason had booked his room.

Jason locked the hotel room door. Clara took a seat on the bed. Jason paced, running his fingers through his hair.

“Jason, I have to destroy this coin as soon as possible,” Clara said. “I’m not sure how quickly this curse works, ya know?”

“Right,” Jason said from the window, his back to the bed.

Clara thought she should just run away. She didn’t know if she could trust Jason. She wanted too, though, so she waited.

“Look, I could get fired for all of this,” Jason said, not turning around.

“I know. So let me go by myself.”

“How would you even destroy it anyway?”

“Burn it? I don’t know.”

“Then it’s just melted gold. And where would you put it?” Jason asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Clara realized she had no idea how to destroy gold. Maybe her grandfather had done the best he could when he buried the coin.

“I don’t know either,” Jason said.

Clara shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hands.

Then someone knocked on the door.  Clara stopped breathing for a moment. Jason turned back to the window, searching for some way out.

“Jason, open up!”

Agent Luker stood on the other side of the door.

♦

Senator Wagner entered the Oval Office. He stood in front of the president’s desk. Roosevelt greeted him and offered him a seat.

“Mr. President,” Wagner said. “We need to destroy the coin you have. We’ll find the other one soon, sir.”

Roosevelt rubbed his forehead and picked up the coin.

“Five people in total, right?” Roosevelt asked.

“Yes, five of the Mint employees have had these dreams. Something is making these dreams come true. Horrible things.”

“Melt down all of the coins into bullion bars. Did you trace the gold?”

Wagner glanced at his feet. He lifted his head.

“Yes,” Wagner answered. “We believe some of the gold used to make these Gold Liberty coins had been stolen from the tomb of Pharaoh Ramesses The Great.”

“Gold from tomb raiders?” Roosevelt laughed.

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure how it made it into the market. But there is something about this Pharaoh you should know.”

“What about him?”

“He was the richest, most powerful pharaoh in early Egyptian history. Never lost a battle according to the records. And, well, there are stories about him having the ability to see the future.”

“You believe this Wagner?” Roosevelt asked, a slight smile on his lips

“I know it sounds implausible, Mr. President. But these Mint workers have all described their dreams as similar to prophecies.”

“These workers have had terrible things happen to them,” Roosevelt said, furrowing his brow.  “Are you saying they all had these events destined for their future?”

“Not quite. There is a myth about this Pharaoh that states any of the gold stolen from his tomb would be cursed.”

Roosevelt let the information sink in, but then shook his head.

“Wagner you can’t honestly believe this, can you?”

“It can’t just be coincidence, Mr. President. This coin causes a curse, I feel sure of it.”

“Well then secure the bullion bars and find that missing coin. We don’t need any more bad luck in this country.”

♦

Jason unzipped his bag and dug around the clothes until he found the handgun. He loaded it and walked toward the door.

“Luker, what do you want?” Jason asked through the door.

“I want the coin, Jason.” Luker said. “I’ve searched for that coin over a year. It’s mine.”

“Luker, I don’t have the coin anymore. The woman that was with me, she took it and ran.”

“I don’t believe you. Step away from the door. I’m kicking it in.” Luker yelled.

Jason motioned for Clara to come closer to him. He whispered for her to call hotel security.

“Luker, I just called security.” Jason said. “Get out of here.”

“Open this door, Jason!” Luker yelled. “Open this door right now. You don’t think the police will help me bust down the door when I show them my badge? Give it up. I found you.”

Jason opened the door. He pointed the gun at Luker’s face.

“Put that gun down, Jason,” Luker said as he walked into the room.

Jason moved over to stand in front of Clara, protecting her with his gun raised. Luker stared past Jason at Clara.

“I don’t think we’ve met, Ms. Jones,” Luker said. “I’m Agent Luker. That coin you have belongs to me.”

“Why do you want this coin?” Clara asked. “It’s cursed.

“Cursed?” Luker reached for his gun holster. “No, it shows you the future. William J. Donovan used it to solve all of his cases.”

“No,” Jason interjected, noticing Luker reaching for his gun. “Donovan was cursed, too. He thought he was seeing the future, but he wasn’t. The coin causes horrible things to happen, Luker. Maybe the cases he was solving were actually crimes caused by the coin.”

“What are you talking about Jason?” Luker said. “That coin shows the future and it’s mine. I won’t fall for your pathetic lies.”

Luker lifted his gun. Jason used his free hand to push Clara closer to his back, trying to hide her from the gun’s shining barrel.

“Okay look,” Clara said. “I’ll give you the coin.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the faded gold coin. She peaked her head around the side of Jason and extended her hand.

When Luker lowered his gun to reach for the coin, Jason stepped forward. He gripped Luker’s arm and yelled for Clara to take the gun that had fallen on the floor. Without his weapon, Luker let his arm fall and Jason moved his hand to Luker’s neck.

“Let him go!” A security officer at the door held his gun at Jason.

“I’m with the CIA,” Jason said.

The officer hesitated.

“He’s lying. I’m with the CIA!” Luker said. “Shoot him!”

“Put your gun down, officer,” Jason said. “And I’ll let this man go.”

The officer lowered his gun and Jason released his grip. He tried to push Luker away from him, but Luker rushed toward Clara and reached for the gun in her hand. Clara tried to turn away, but Luker ripped the gun from her hand. As he pulled the gun closer to him, his finger slipped.

The gun went off. The loud explosion sent Clara to the floor, as the bullet hit the hotel bed. Tiny pieces of blanket and mattress floated in the air. Jason snatched Luker’s hand and threw him to the floor. The officer ran toward the two men and placed handcuffs on Luker.

Jason reached for his badge and showed the officer.

“He’s a CIA agent, also,” Jason explained to the officer. “But he tried to attack this lady, and I had to step in. Please escort him out of the building. We’ll settle this soon.”

When Luker and the officer left the room, Clara sat on the bed, finally able to breath. She held the coin in her hand and feared she had held it for too long. She could be cursed by now. Jason shut the hotel door. He walked over to Clara and took her free hand. He lifted her up and placed his hand around her waist. Pulling her into him, he leaned down and kissed her full lips.

♦

They decided to melt the coin. Jason brought up the idea of cremation, and Clara agreed that the cremation fires would be hot enough to melt gold.

“They cremate John Does,” Jason said. “I could find out where and we could put the coin with the body.”

“That’s a great idea,” Clara said. “That’s the easiest, fastest solution.

Fifteen minutes later, Jason and Clara exited a cab outside of Desert Memorial Cremation Society. Jason had already called and explained the situation to the owner. They entered the small building. Jason introduced himself and Clara to the soft-spoken Mr. Newsum.

Mr. Newsum led the way to the back of the building. Clara could feel the air warming around them, as they neared the room with the cremator furnace. Mr. Newsum pushed open the door to the crematory and pointed to his right. A single body, covered with a white sheet, lay on a table.

“Only the agent can stay here,” Mr. Newsum said. He motioned for Clara to follow him out of the room.

Alone in the small room, Jason pulled the coin from his pocket. He lifted the sheet from the corpse. The John Doe looked young, maybe early twenties, Mexican. He pulled the coin from his pocket and placed it in the man’s mouth. He apologized to the dead man and walked out the door.

Clara and Jason left the funeral home. The taxi first stopped at the Excalibur Hotel and Casino.

Jason stood next to the taxi. Clara faced him.

“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” Jason said. “You know, we make quite a team, Clara.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Clara said, smiling at him and remembering his victor kiss. “I mean that, really. Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. I’m so glad we met.”

Clara took a breath. Something about him made her so calm.

“Clara, I’d really like to see you again sometime. I know I’m in D.C. and you’re in California, but maybe I’ll just have to take a little vacation.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Clara said.

He placed his warm hand on her cheek. With his other hand, he wiped the long brown hair from her face. Clara looked up at him, and then he kissed her.

Clara stood and watched the taxi drive away. She was stuck in the perfect moment of the kiss, and the bliss that came with the final destruction of the coin. No one ever again would be cursed.

She pictured Benjamin Williams, losing his precious money. She imagined Michele Parker, sitting in her cell waiting for a jury to convict her of a crime she never wanted to commit. Finally, she envisioned her grandfather. She remembered the tears in his eyes when he looked at the picture of his six-year-old daughter, with her brown curls and joyful smile. A gentle breeze blew against Clara’s cheeks, and in that moment she could feel her grandfather’s caring embrace, thanking her for ending the ancient curse.

♦

That night, Clara had a dream. She saw herself sitting in a dark room alone. No pictures adorned the mantle above the fireplace. She wrapped a wool blanket around her old, wrinkled body. White had replaced her brown hair, and glasses adorned her fragile face. She fell into the overwhelming silence, and cried in the darkness.

When Clara woke up in the hotel room, she knew the cursed coin had brought the dream. The haunted images had showed her fear of being alone. Back in California, Clara tried to move on. She wanted to believe that she could stop the curse from coming true.

Months passed since her adventure with Jason, but he never called. She waited, and wondered, and feared the curse coming true.

♦

Jason thought of Clara every day. The covert CIA operation he had been assigned failed. He lost count of the days he spent in his cell on a remote mountain in Afghanistan. He knew he had to escape.

♦

Along with the ashes, the melted coin had been placed in the brown box labeled John Doe No. 149. In time the gold would harden. Then, the cursed gold would wait again for someone to take it from its tomb.

By the time Justin made it to the on deck circle, right fielder Gary Holden was already deep in the count. Justin was only able to get a few practice swings in before Holden struck out swinging for the 26th Seattle out in a row. The Detroit fans erupted, knowing one more out and a run in the bottom of the ninth would seal a perfect game for Bud Gunn, the Indians’ pitching ace. As Justin approached the plate, the noise only got louder. Everyone in the stadium was on their feet, waiting to see history that only a handful of people in the world knew was illegitimate.

The first pitch was a breaking ball that caught the outside corner of the plate for strike one. Gunn went with the high, inside heat with the next pitch, and Justin took an unsuccessful off-balance cut at it, leaving one more strike in what he knew would be his last opportunity to win the World Series for Seattle. He took a waste pitch in the dirt for ball one, and laid off a fastball that just missed the inside corner for ball two. After fouling off the next four pitches to keep the count at two balls and two strikes, Justin stepped out of the batters box to collect himself. He took his batting helmet off, wiped the sweat from his brow, took a deep breath, repositioned the helmet and stepped back in.

The next pitch was a slider that broke outside. It wound up a few inches off the plate, but Justin swung anyway. He hit a low, sharp line drive to right field. The Indians’ right fielder charged as fast as he cold toward the infield, trying his best to keep the perfect game in tact. He dove at the last second but was not quite close enough, and the ball hit the grass and darted past him all the way to the outfield fence. The centerfielder sprinted over to cover, but by the time he got to the ball Justin was on his way to third. As he threw the ball in, Justin looked up at his third base coach, who was jumping up and down, frantically throwing both his hands in the air, signaling for Justin to stop at third. Justin did not hesitate; he bolted through the stop sign and toward home plate. Halfway to the plate, he saw Doug readying to catch the ball. Justin was still 15 feet from home when Doug secured the ball and blocked the plate.

It was the most violent plate collision anyone in the stadium had ever seen. Justin plowed into Doug at full speed and rolled over the top of the plate. The silence of the crowd told him everything he needed to know, but when the dust settled and Justin turned his head to the side to see a baseball nestled in the dirt beside him, he was certain he had scored.

The umpire yelled, “Safe!” and Doug threw his glove down in disgust as Justin ran toward his dugout with both arms in the air. Before he even got there, McCall was the first to meet him. He gave him a big hug and said, “Yeah baby, let’s go win this fucking game, damn it!”

In the dugout, Hayward sprinted desperately to the phone to call the bullpen. “Get fucking Martinez up! Now! Now! Now! Come on, go! Fuck!”

Instantly after he slammed the phone down it rang again. He picked it up to hear Jones screaming.

“Get fucking Martinez up! What the fuck is this shit!”

“I know! I know! I already called. We’ll get him in the game.”

“You were supposed to pinch hit him! What the fuck!”

“Well, excuse me Al for not thinking our fifth starting pitcher could hit a fucking homerun off Bud Gunn.”

“Whatever Hayward, just make sure Martinez gets in and blows the save.”

“I will.”

Right after he hung up the phone, it rang yet again.

“Yeah?” Hayward asked.

“Nobody’s warming up!”

“What the fuck do you mean nobody’s warming up? I just told you to get Martinez to warm up! Come on Kyle, do your fucking job!”

“He’s refusing to warm up or go in the game, as is everyone else out here. I offered them hefty bonuses and I’ve threatened them everyway I know how, including the steroid tapes, but they won’t budge!”

“Oh, horse’s ass!” Hayward hung up the phone and quickly dialed Jones.

“The entire bullpen is refusing to warm up!” Hayward yelled.

“Shit! Fucking bitches! I’ll fucking take all of them down if we win this game! All of them!”

“What do we do? Put a position player on the mound?”

“We can’t. How could we possibly explain that?”

As the two masterminds thought of any way to salvage their fix, the next Seattle batter got the final out of the top of the ninth inning, and Justin sprinted out to the mound with his glove before any idea could formulate. Behind him were eight of his teammates, all sprinting to their respective positions on the field, looking like the competitors that hadn’t been there since game three.

“This kid has beaten both teams today,” Jones told Hayward. “There is simply nothing we can do.” The two sat in silence for about 10 seconds, then Hayward gently hung up the phone and went and sat on the bench with his head in his hands.

*

Justin needed just three more outs, but he was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, and to an even greater extent, emotionally. As the first batter stepped in, Justin felt like his arm was about to fall off. The first pitch of the inning was hit deep to centerfield. Matt Downs made an incredible diving catch at the warning track for the first out. Just as Downs raised his glove to solidify the catch, Jones’s cell phone rang for the 23rd time in the last 10 minutes, and he hurled it against the back wall of the owner’s box.

Justin’s weary arm blew fastball after fastball by the next batter, the final one clocked at 98 miles per hour for his 14th strikeout of the game the second out of the inning. Justin toed the rubber and leaned in for what he hoped would be the last batter of the game. Before he received the signal from the catcher, he glanced up in the stands at his father. He was clapping his hands, and Justin saw his mouth form the words, “You can do it son!”

Something inside Justin jerked him off the rubber. He walked around the mound for a few seconds, squatted down behind the rubber and looked up at the sky. He thought about Cade, and wondered if he was watching. What was about to happen made him ecstatic and sick at the same time. It gave him goosebumps of pride and chills of fear. He knew if he made this final out, his steroid tape would be the first to be released. Cade would not just know he took steroids, he would see the needle pierce his backside and the drug seep into his body. His father would know Justin broke his promise to never cheat the game, and Justin knew his father would never view him in the same way again.

Justin stood up and gave one more glance at his father. In that moment, the 22-year-old pitcher made the decision; this would be his last game he ever pitched.

*

Seattle catcher Bill Stewart called for time and jogged to the mound. “Come on Justin, you’ve got this man. You can finish this.”

Justin had just thrown three straight balls to the third batter of the inning. He didn’t say anything back to Stewart. He kept a dead stare at the ground and gave a deep sigh. Stewart patted him on the shoulder with his glove and ran back to the plate. The next pitch was in the dirt, and the batter jogged to first base.

Justin got the ball back from Stewart, and the corner of his eyes began to water as he set up for the first pitch to the next batter. Just before he went into his stretch, his bottom lip began to quiver. He released the ball – an 87-mile per hour fastball right down the middle of the plate – and began walking toward the dugout without even watching the ball sail over the left centerfield fence.

The Detroit fans erupted, and the Indians’ bench cleared and reassembled at home plate to meet the hero of the game. Justin kept his head down as he ambled to the dugout. He could not look his father in the eye.

*

Cade rolled over and buried his face in the couch. He didn’t understand how his dad could pitch so well the entire game only to give up a homerun in the bottom of the ninth to lose the World Series. Tears were still streaming down his face when ESPN went live to the postgame press conference.

Justin appeared on the screen as he sat down at the interview table. He was still in full uniform; the only difference was the huge bag of ice wrapped around his right shoulder. His cap remained pulled down just above his eyes, which became even glossier as the camera lights shone on the man reporters would refer to as “choker” in the next day’s paper. Dirt was smeared across his long face. Grass stains defaced the Bulldog logo on the front of his jersey. His entire body hung over just enough to indicate exhaustion. He was a true ballplayer. But today, he didn’t feel like one.

He didn’t take any questions, but simply gave an announcement. He took a deep breath and wiped his hand downward over his face before he began. “You know guys…” he paused, leaned back in his chair, readjusted his cap, and leaned forward again. “Every kid has a dream. You dedicate your entire life…” he paused for another deep breath. “You finally get a chance to live out that dream, and then you realize it may not be as great as your imagination made it out to be.” He looked down. His body began to shake slightly, and moisture began building in his eyes. He looked back up at the room. “You soon realize,” he choked out, “that it’s not what you thought it was. It’s not even what you truly want in life.” His fists were tightly clinching the table now, and he could barley hold himself together. “That is why I sit here tonight – to announce my retirement from baseball.” The room gasped. “I need to go spend time with my son. If my short experience in the ABA told me anything, it’s that he has much more to offer me than this game ever could. Thank you and God bless.” He stood up and walked off the television screen.

Cade smiled.