Echoes (15 page)

Trying another sip, she decided this was the tea for her. It even tasted better than coffee. She had to tell him. With another sip of her soothing tea, Lauren tapped out her reply:

With a tap of a few keys her letter was sent. Lauren prepared a short note for Brad, telling him about Hawthorne, and sent it off to him within five minutes. She was about to close down her computer when she noticed she had a letter waiting
for her. Checking her box, she found a second letter from KC. Amazing! It was after one o’clock in the morning her time, and wherever KC was, he was at this very moment sitting at his computer, and the minute he had received her letter, he had turned around and written her back:

If she had any hesitation about opening up to this man before, that concern had flown. The opportunity for a non-threatening, stimulating relationship with this unknown man felt safe and wonderfully romantic.

In the months that followed, without anyone else knowing about this correspondence, Lauren launched into consistent communication with KC, discussing volleyball, literature, music, movies, friends, family, and God. She noted the subject of cats didn’t come up again, and she wondered if KC approved of cats. She hoped he did.

A
chill winter wind chased Lauren across the campus of Belmont University. In her right hand she clutched her admissions papers. It wasn’t likely that she would be admitted at this late date for the next semester, but she was ready to plead her case. She had just learned a few days ago that only Belmont offered the upper division course she needed before she could apply for her teaching credential in Tennessee. She had come this far in her schooling, and she didn’t want to stop now.

Striding through the center of the campus, Lauren couldn’t help but notice the big white gazebo with elaborate ironwork and scrolled pillars. A couple bundled in long coats stood close together in the center, their laughter echoing off the dome ceiling. She smiled at the young couple and kept walking. They were in the spring of their relationship, and they were standing in the gazebo the hairstylist-hacker had told Lauren about last summer. Thoughts of Jeff and planning their wedding in a gazebo were far, far away, buried beneath the cold winter turf.
That all had happened during another time when she was another person.

Lauren found the admissions office, turned in her paperwork, set an appointment to talk with an admissions counselor the next week, and walked briskly back to her car. A light snow began to fall as she pulled out of the parking lot. The Friday evening traffic was a mess, and Lauren wondered if she should try to run some more errands before going home. Christmas was in two weeks, and she hadn’t finished her shopping yet.

As the windshield wipers furiously fought to keep her window clear, Lauren signaled for a right turn into a strip mall shopping center. She turned in and noticed a scruffy looking man poking around in the dumpster.

Lauren parked and dashed into the dry cleaners to pick up her clothes. Writing out the check for the four cleaned items, she thought of the man. He was probably homeless. She did a rough calculation of how many meals could be purchased for the outrageous amount she was paying for her dry cleaning. It bothered her.

Unlocking her car and hanging the clothes on the hook in the back, Lauren noticed the man was now standing under the sheltering eaves of the video store next to the dry cleaners. He looked cold.

Lauren got in her car and, with a sense of purpose, drove to the Long John Silver’s fast food restaurant across the street. She waited in a long line before ordering enough food for two, or maybe even three, people. With the bag of hot food beside her in the front seat, she drove through the busy intersection and parked in the snow sprinkled parking lot.

The man was no longer by the video store. She drove slowly, checking out the dumpster area and the dark alley between the hardware store and the insurance office. Something moved in the alley.

Lauren slung her purse over her shoulder, reached into her glove compartment, took out her leather gloves, a gift from Jeff last Valentine’s Day, and tucked them into the sack of hot food. Then, carefully balancing the large coffee in one hand and the bag of food between her teeth, Lauren used her free hand to lock her door and then to pocket her keys.

No one was around as she ventured into the dark alley. Silent snowflakes caught a ride on her hair and shoulders, offering quiet comfort.

“Hello?” she called out in small but cheery voice.

The man rose from his huddled position against the wall.

“I, um … I brought you some dinner.” She held out the bag and the coffee cup.

The man stared at her without moving a muscle.

“There’s, um, creamer and sugar in the bag if you don’t like your coffee black.” Lauren held it out closer to him.

The man looked both directions. In one swift movement, he pulled something from his belt and in a gravelly voice ordered, “Gimme your purse.”

“Excuse me?” Lauren couldn’t believe her ears.

She did believe her eyes when the blade of the vagrant’s six-inch knife caught the light from the yellow security lamp.

“Give it to me, now!” he shouted.

Too startled to do anything else, Lauren put down the food and coffee and quickly slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. The man snatched it from her and took off running.

Lauren stood there, dumbfounded. She checked her pocket. Her car keys were still there. At least he couldn’t steal her car, too.

“I’ve been robbed,” she muttered, looking down at the food. “I brought him dinner, and he stole my purse.” Dazed, she made her way back to her car, opened the door, climbed in, locked the doors, and sat there. She held the bag of food in
her lap but knew she could never eat any of it. “I can’t believe this.”

Should she call the police? Go tell someone? How would she explain that she had entered the dark alley at night, knowing a questionable character was lurking there, and now she was actually surprised at the outcome. Any police officer would call her foolish.

Forgoing the rest of her errands, Lauren started the car and inched her way home on the slick streets. She shook her head and muttered to herself all the way.

Hawthorne’s eager “meow” as she unlocked her apartment door brought her sweet comfort. She lifted the medium-sized cat and took him with her to the couch where she sat for a long time, stroking his fur and allowing his contented purring to calm her nerves.

It was after eight before she got up and fixed herself a cup of tea. She opened a can of cat food for Hawthorne and said, “At least you won’t turn on me when I offer you some dinner.”

Reaching for the phone, she finally dialed the local police. The officer who took her report was understanding when she described the circumstances. He advised her to cancel all her credit cards right away, close her bank account, and call the DMV on Monday. Then he added in a fatherly tone, “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, miss. I understand your goodwill toward men, being that it’s Christmastime and all. It’s a sad world we live in when a person can’t be neighborly. I only hope this unpleasant experience will serve you well in the future and protect you from an even greater harm.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said. “Good night.”

She hung up and decided to pick up her mail before it became much darker. Her mom had said last week that she was sending Lauren plane tickets so she could come home for Christmas. Tucking Hawthorne under her arm for protection,
Lauren scanned the apartment parking lot as she carefully descended the snow covered stairs. The common mailbox was only ten steps from the bottom of her stairs. She had never been afraid of going there at night before. But then, she had never been robbed before, either. Lauren stuck her key in the slot, quickly unlocked her box, extracted a few letters, and hopped through the snow back to her apartment.

She turned on the gas fireplace and curled up with Hawthorne to read her mail. She had received four Christmas cards. One was from her old college roommate, Teri. Lauren opened it, read the few lines scrawled at the bottom, and bit her lower lip. Teri didn’t know about Jeff. She said she was looking forward to coming to Nashville for their February wedding. Teri was older than Lauren, had graduated two years before her, and was doing exactly what Lauren wished she were—teaching in a small town.

Forcing herself to the phone, Lauren looked up Teri’s number and glanced at the clock. It was around dinnertime in Oregon where Teri lived. Lauren began to dial. It was Friday night. Teri hadn’t mentioned dating anyone. All her card said was that she had spent the summer with her sister on Maui. Chances were she would be home.

A strangely deep and froggy voice answered.

“Is Teri there?”

“This is Teri,” the raspy voice said.

“Is Teri Moreno there?”

“It’s me,” the voice barked. “I have laryngitis.”

“Oh, Teri, you sound awful. It’s Lauren. I hope I’m not bothering you.” Lauren hoped she hadn’t gotten Teri out of bed. Had the raspy voice startled Lauren more than it should have because of her bad experience that night in the alley?

“How are you?” Teri said. Her words sounded painful. Lauren decided this would be a quick call.

“Well, actually,” Lauren chose to skip the mugging story and make this a casual conversation, “I’m doing quite well.”

“Good!”

“I received your Christmas card,” Lauren continued. “And I realized I hadn’t talked to you in a long time, so you don’t know what’s happening in my life. I was going to write you, but then I thought it would be easier if I called.”