Broken Song (18 page)

I smiled then looked around conspiratorially and started pulling antique picture frames out of the plastic bag and stacking them one at a time on a chair.  She was grinning like an idiot as I whispered, “For your art.  It needs to be displayed properly.”

We talked for a bit, and she somehow roped me into talking about life and love again.  She showed me her strength and how not even cancer could take her soul and beauty and love from her.  She talked about Sandra and told me how stupid we both were to not see how much we loved each other.  This dying girl knew more about life than I could learn in a dozen lifetimes.

I was in awe of this young lady, and I sang for her.  Every song denied to me by my record label.  I had nothing to offer her but this and love.  By the time I was done I was surrounded by children and parents from all around the ward.  Once I finished and said goodbye to this wonderful shining star.  She reminded me that whether it was spoken or not, I had made a promise to Sandra as well, that reminded me also of the forty eight hour promise that I had welched on.

I had the cabbie drop me off a block from the bridge and gave him a huge tip and told him to have a great day.  I watched as he drove off and made my way to the bridge, to my spot, to my end.

I stood there looking at the gap above the railing but Yvette's words about my promises rattled through my head.  All I could see was Sandra's face.  I couldn't do this to her.  I loved her.  That's what it came down to.  I loved her and that was enough, that was the hope.  I wouldn't, couldn't let her down.  If there is one good thing to be said about me, I take care of those that I love.

I just screamed, “Fuck!” out into the universe and started stalking off the bridge with a single purpose in my head.  I couldn't fix my life, but there was one thing I could do for the most selfless person that I have ever met.

Shortly after, I was in a cab I wasn't sure where to start.  If only there were someone I could talk to and get my bearings... Missy!  I don't know why, but my sister-in-law is actually my closest friend.  She kept encouraging me to leave Victor for years.  For me, for the girls.  She knew her brother was poison.

I have always found it odd that she chose to support me over her own brother.  But that's Missy.  She is her own person and if you can get past her acidic demeanor and her bitchy armor, she has a huge heart.  Though I do pity anyone who gets in her way when she is protecting those she cares about.

I love her like a dysfunctional sister.  But I couldn't even tell her about the cancer, about my decision to... no, she'd have talked me out of it.  That's probably why I have avoided her since I got the diagnosis.  But how did I find her?  I didn't know her address, it was on my phone, and I had never been to her house though she visited us in California a couple times a year and we were staunch email and phone buddies.

I knew where she worked as the curator of the Seattle Gallery, but it was the weekend, she wouldn't be there.  I asked the driver if he has a tablet or laptop.  He had an iPad and I asked him to look up the phone number for Missy Hannigan. Luckily she was listed and I borrowed his cell.  I snorted at the “Who the hell is this?”  After I let her know it was me and I was in town, she immediately gave me her address which I promptly shared with the driver, then I told her I'd be right there and I handed the driver his phone back.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the very posh neighborhood and the one story rancher style house with my tall blonde pseudo-sister leaning against her closed door with one foot lazily kicked back on the door.

I paid the driver and she met me half way up the walk with a smile and a barb. “What up rocker bitch?”

She engulfed me in a big hug as I replied with a warm smile for her, “Just needed to see you, twit.” And I don't know why, but I broke down crying on her shoulder.  She just held me and shushed me then guided me into her house with her arm around my shoulder.

She brought me to the couch where Steven was sitting watching sports.  He had a concerned look on his face and shut off the television and vacated the couch so Missy could park us there.  She made some head movements and Steven cleared his throat and his deep voice rumbled out as he said, “I have to run to the store to get snacks for the game tomorrow.  Umm... I'll be back in an hour... oh, ummm... a couple hours.”  I felt her nod as I tried to get a hold of myself, and like a spirit, Steven was gone.

Missy wiped the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs and seemed satisfied I had stopped crying then she nodded gently and turned her cell off and said, “So Penny, tell me, what's going on hon.  When did you get into town?” It was the gentlest voice I had ever heard from her since I married Victor.

I just stared at her and blinked.  I didn't know what to say.  But I knew she wouldn't hold any punches and could probably help me get my bearings.  That is just how she is.  I shrugged and smiled nervously.  “I don't know sis.  The world has gone to shit around me and it is all spiraling out of control, I'm beyond rock bottom.”

She just consoled me and didn't push as I relayed the hell my life had turned into and the soul rending pain of losing my daughters to her piece of shit brother.  She agreed on that count,  I shared everything except why I was here.  She shared that she hasn't seen someone this messed up since Mia Jacobs.

She had hundreds of questions about Sandra and Yvette and the homeless people, but kept saying there was a puzzle piece missing.  Finally I caved.  “I have breast cancer sis,” I whispered into the universe.

She was so gentle and understanding and had just a couple questions about it.  Her solution was simple and straight forward as she said, “Get that nasty shit cut out of your body, my sistah from another motha.”

I snorted. “Don't ever say that again.”

She nodded with a wicked grin. “Yeah, it sounded better in my head.”  Then she tilted her head. “You are aren't you?  Getting that shit cut out?”

I shrugged and said in a little voice, “My children have already been taken from me... now the universe wants my womanhood too?”

She stared at me for a long time then shook her head in anger and resignation.  “Bullshit...  but this still doesn't explain why you are in Seattle.  Did you move back here without telling me?”

I didn't say anything, I didn't want her to even guess, so I changed the subject.  “So that led me to you.  I don't know what to do.”

She thought for a minute then said in her old sarcastic tone that had been missing through the whole discussion,  “Well you dweeb, it sounds like you have something unresolved with this Sandra chick.  Your one flaw is that you care too much and will do anything for the people you care about.  Well fine, it's not a flaw but it is annoying.  It sounds like you owe her something for a reason you won't tell me.  Square up with her and you can move forward or it will drive you nucking futs.”

I shrugged. “I think I passed that stage, but I think you are right and I know what I have to do.  I owe it to that wondrous blonde.”

She let me leave it at that then she brought me out to lunch so we could just discuss the old days.  I think she knew what she was doing because she had my spirits raised by the end of lunch.  We walked out of the restaurant and I hugged her. “I love you sis.  There is something I need to do.”

She nodded and whistled for a cab.  “OK.  I understand.  I love you too.  But if anyone asks, I'll deny it.”  I grinned as she opened the cab door for me.

I kissed her cheek and smiled as I got in. “Of course.  Bye Missy.”  I shut the door and instructed the cabbie to head to SeaTac Airport.

I didn't think it would be that hard to track down a family that was obviously richer than God in Washington DC.  But it seems that describes a hell of a lot of people there.  I was a little shocked when I found out that my little Sandra was the heir to the Callahan Shipping empire.

Alistair Callahan's net worth rivaled that of Bill Gates at just over seventy billion dollars.  Callahan Shipping had subsidiary companies around the globe and controlled over ten percent of the entire global shipping industry.  If you get something from overseas, odds are good that Callahan Shipping had their hands on your shipment at one point or another on its way to its recipient.

My heart swelled with pride for her that she chose to walk away from that to take care of “her people”.  She didn't let any of the upper crust snobbery taint her.  The only thing she wanted more in life than to help those in need was to make her father proud and show him she could make it on her own.

I'd make sure she got his recognition before I left this world, or die trying, then my slate would be clean and I could just fade away.

It wasn't as easy as it would seem.  It took me two days just to work my way through the juggernaut that is Callahan Shipping to finally get in touch with Alistair's personal assistant, Tip.  Who the heck is named Tip?  My international fame is the only way I made it through the labyrinth to that point.  I hate trading on my name, especially now that it isn't associated with Leather and Heels anymore.

All that work just to find out he was in Germany, striking a deal with an international consortium for exclusive shipping rights, but he would be home in ten days.  He had promised his family he would be back before Thanksgiving.  I got Tip to set up a short meeting for the day he arrived back in DC, he could only give me fifteen minutes.

I spent the next ten days dwelling on every possible scenario.  Every way I could imagine me screwing things up.  I researched everything I could about her family and their business.  I visited a salon and had them strip my hair and dye it my natural color to the best of my recollection and give my now chestnut brown locks some golden highlights.  Then had them cut it in a more professional style.

I bought a professional business suit, too bad I didn't have any of the clothing Sandra had got me except for what was on my back when I left Seattle.  I wouldn't give them any reason to turn me away at the door.  I almost didn't recognize the woman in the mirror.  That was Penelope Marie Franklin peeking back at me.  I smiled. 
I remember her.
  The wide eyed girl that was in awe of the world.  She had discovered music and with some friends, created a band who's music would “change the world”.  I snorted at the naivety of that young girl all those years ago.

I looked at the time.  Just over an hour until the meeting.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew Sandra idolized her father, I also knew he loved her, but it wasn't his love she wanted... it was his respect.  Whether he knew it or not, he was the chink in her armor, the one thing that could bring my girl down. 
Shit... my girl?  If only.

I grabbed my purse and made my way out of the hotel and to the curb, and the doorman opened the taxi door for me.  I fought down the panic on the ride over to the corporate headquarters of Callahan Shipping.  What the hell was I doing?

I made my way into the lobby of the huge modern five story office building.  I walked up to the security desk and they verified I had an appointment with Mr. Callahan then gave me a visitor’s pass and a young intern, Wendell his security badge said, materialized out of the ether to lead me to the office of the president of the company.

On the top floor I was handed off to Lara.  She had the no nonsense, stern demeanor of a Sunday school teacher.  She led me through the impressive open office area that had what appeared to be a sea of administrative assistants with large glass walled offices ringing the exterior.  I was led into one.  A conference room and she hit a control on the wall and the glass went opaque.  “Someone will be with you in a moment Ms. Franklin,” she said in what could only have been a German accent.  Then she was gone in an instant.

Not more than five minutes later a handsome red headed man entered the room.  He was fit and impeccably groomed and maybe an inch or two shorter than me.  His suit looked like it cost more than my first car.  His piercing green eyes seemed to be studying me.  He made some sort of decision then stepped up to me and offered his hand.  “Ms. Franklin, I'm Tip Dunn.  Mr. Callahan's  personal assistant.  What can I tell him this meeting is about?”

This was pissing me off, he was screening me! “Tip, what's going on?  Don't jerk me around here.  Do I have an appointment with Mr. Callahan or not?”

He seemed unmoved and said, “It depends on if 'I' decide you do or not.”

I started walking past him to leave the room.  “Fine, you explain to Alistair why you refused to let me talk to him about his daughter.  I have better things to do than play your dumb ass superiority games.”

That had the desired effect when he said in an unsure voice that was the counterpoint to the snobbish regal tone he was using earlier, “Miss Callahan?”

I stopped half way out the door and turned toward him. “Yes.”  Then I walked out.

He was right on my tail calling out, “Ms. Franklin?”

I smirked to myself then put a perturbed look on my face.  I spun around to face him. “What Tip?  Don't waste my time.”

He motioned back to the conference room and said with a combination of aggravation and resignation, “Mr. Callahan will be with you shortly.”  After I passed him, I grinned to myself. 
Asswipe!
  I glanced at the door as he disappeared down the hall.

I looked around the spacious room with the huge glass table at its center surrounded by satin nickle frame chairs with maroon cushions.  I poured some water from a carafe at a sideboard and walked to the window and looked out over DC.