Erika (2 page)

* * * *

Shanna could tell by Templeton’s unshaven face, his blurry-sleep-laden eyes he’d been thoroughly drunk the night before, perhaps for several days. Nevertheless, her heart still skipped a beat. She was still passionately in love with him. It was a hopeless love, doomed to never be fulfilled unless miracles happened. As she stared at him she realized she was praying for one. “Hawk, I’d like you to meet Templeton Gordon. Templeton’s a private investigator, and once in a while we compete by racing against each other.”

The two men shook hands.

“Follow me. It’s time for coffee and conversation.”

The walk to Templeton’s cabin was only a few minutes long. Soon Shanna and Hawk were curled up in comfortable chairs and enjoying the bitter flavor of strong coffee. Hawk gazed at the writing on the mug.

“World’s Greatest Teacher.” He looked at Templeton.

Templeton smiled as he sat on the fireplace ledge. “Your face tells me Shanna hasn’t told you a great deal about me. I taught school for three years. Then I decided to associate with a better class of people so I became an officer of the law for a brief time. Finally I became what I am now. Why aren’t you drinking your coffee?”

Hawk wrinkled his nose. “It smells.”

“It’s merely a little whiskey and quite a cheap brand at that.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

“And well you shouldn’t. But you’re shivering, so drink it.”

Hawk took a sip and gagged.

“That’s fine. Take another sip.”

“I have only coffee,” said Shanna. “Where’s my whiskey?”

“You’re not shivering,” Templeton said with a smile.

“I could pretend. Maybe next time.” Her brown eyes met Templeton’s. “There will be a next time, won’t there?” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear and Hawk to ignore while sipping his coffee.

She saw Templeton’s smoldering passion flame into a blazing fire as his gray eyes looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “One can never say what the fates have in store for us,” he replied before glancing at Hawk. “So tell me something about yourself.”

Shanna didn’t hear their further conversation which seemed to dull down to an incomprehensible mumble. She wanted desperately to scream, I love you, Templeton. Why did you call off our romance shortly after it started? What terrible thing came between us? You even told me to never come to see you at Cannon Beach. Well, I brought Hawk here to break off dating with him and to show him the guy I really love. I love you, Templeton. I can’t stop loving you, ever.

In an effort to calm herself she looked at the cabin furnishings. They seemed to be mostly composed of nondescript chairs and a table in dark wood. There was a fireplace. It appeared to be unused most of the time. The sink contained a few dirty dishes, probably from breakfast. Templeton couldn’t possibly own the cabin, not on a private investigator’s uncertain income. Or could he? There was some evidence he did. At the end of a short hallway was a closed door. Was it a bedroom, where he slept between cool sheets all alone? On the right wall was an enormous photograph of him in his racing Corvette.

“Shanna, look at this!”

She snapped back to their conversation upon hearing Hawk’s excited voice. He was holding a handgun. Templeton was talking.

“A Thompson Contender is a smashing good weapon even though it’s only a single shot.”

He took it from Hawk, squeezed the trigger guard, breaking open the action and noting the empty barrel. “It doesn’t hurt to check them twice to see they’re unloaded,” he said, closing the action and handing the Contender back to Hawk. “You have to pull the hammer back before the trigger can be squeezed and then just the slightest touch will fire the weapon. I can acquire almost any caliber I wish simply by purchasing another barrel. The one mounted on the gun is a .22 Hornet. I also have a .357 Magnum barrel.”

“It’s a superb weapon,” Hawk declared. “I’ll have to buy one.”

“Perhaps you would like to shoot with me, someday.”

“Name the day and the time and I’ll be there. I’d love to shoot in competition against a private investigator.”

“Not without me,” said Shanna. “I dislike all weapons but I would like to see who wins the shootout.”

Gray eyes met brown eyes. Templeton’s voice was husky with emotion as he spoke. “Of course you may come. But I would have thought your unicorn paintings might keep you too busy to accompany us.”

Shanna felt her face expressing her surprise. “How do you know about my paintings when I’ve never mentioned them to you?”

She loved Templeton’s facial expression. Was it devilish or secretive? “I do have my methods. You have them hanging in four Portland galleries.”

“That’s right, but how do you know?” She stopped and looked at Templeton’s camera. He had removed it from his neck and put it on a nearby table. It was an older brand, a Mamiya 2-1/4. Its pictures could be blown up to a large size and still be perfect. “Do you know a professional photographer named Templar?”

Templeton nodded. “Probably not as well as I should. I do, however, see him when I’m ambitious enough to shave.”

Shanna’s smiled. “All the years I’ve known you, yet you’ve never once mentioned your photography. You’re a very talented shutterbug. I’ve seen your photography being purchased for quite a price. I almost bought some on several occasions. I should have. I’m sorry.”

Templeton laughed. “And well you should be. I receive sixty per cent of every sale. But it’s not too late for you to do that. Two days ago I delivered a new bunch to five different galleries.”

All this time during their conversation Hawk had been fondling the Thompson Contender. Templeton noticed and shouted, “Bang!”

Hawk jumped and laughed. “I do get excited over weapons,” he said while handing it to Templeton.

“Quite so,” replied Templeton. He looked at Shanna. “Well, are you two away now?”

“Yes, I suppose we should be,” replied Shanna. Her voice was saturated with sudden sadness.

Templeton nodded at her. He went to the fireplace, picked up a rock and handed it to Shanna. “Here, keep this. It’s been looking for a decent home.”

It was the size of a golf ball. When Shanna took the pumice she could feel the warmth of Templeton’s hand still lingering on it. With reluctance she said goodbye and followed Hawk out the door, grasping the pumice like it was part of the man she so desperately loved.

Chapter Three

What the bloody hell is wrong with me? I’m having emotions about Shanna I thought I had in control. As I gave her the pumice I touched her fingertips. Their warmth excited me to where I surged rock hard. I wanted to send Hawk on an errand, throw her on my bed, tear off her clothes, kiss every inch of her nakedness and make love to her night and day and forever.
No, calm down, remember your wife. Remember the walks in the parks, the long educational discussions, the endless love making, like it was all only a day ago.

Then why did I remove my wedding ring the moment I saw Shanna? Why did I begin dating her until my conscience won out and I said no more? Why, when l still love my wife more than life itself, do I love Shanna so much she is constantly on my mind? Why, in the name of all that is holy. Why?

Tears gushed from his eyes.
Forget everything
. But his mind wouldn’t allow him to have emotional peace. It recalled the days of utter horror without his wife, the loneliness inside his gut as well as outside and how the loneliness had caused him to sit for days and not move.

He raised his head upward and hollered. “I love you, Sara. I will always love you. Hear me Sara. I love you. I love you!”

It took several more minutes of shouting and sobbing before he poured whiskey into a glass. Lots of it would be his dinner.

Chapter Four

Tuesday morning, 3:12 A.M.

“I’m here, Hawk. Reach out to me.”

He stumbled through an impossibly thick fog, feeling with blind fingers, using them as tactile eyes, to at last hug tightly in his firm hands the faceless woman.

“I am the woman you love.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I will be coming for you.”

“Why can’t I see what you look like?”

“It’s because the memory you have for me is weak. You fail to even hear my name when I say it. Your dreams are fragments of remembrance, moments we shared together. If you want to see my face, you must wish to see me with all your heart.”

Eternally long minutes passed before he glimpsed blond hair done up in a hundred perfect curls. But where the face should be was impenetrable fog.

“I can’t see your face.”

“Try harder, Hawk. Try!”

More desperate moments passed before the fog parted. Perfect pale green eyes stared at him above an exquisite mouth he kissed and wanted to kiss for all eternity.

“I love you. I have always loved you.”

She returned his kisses, his words of love.

Until, “I must go my darling. But I’ll be with you soon, forever.”

Hawk felt her torn from his grasp by unseen hands. An eye blink later she was gone into the fog.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Erika.”

He woke up and screamed. “Erika!” That was her name, Erika!

But what did she mean? How could she be with me? She’s a dream, isn’t she? How could a dream possess me? Yet we did confess our love for each other, which is impossible. Or is it? Maybe I’m also a dream? No, I’m real. And my being real means Erika is real. Why can’t I remember her? She said we’ve known each other forever. We’ve been in love forever. I must find her.
“Do you hear me Erika? I will search for you. I will find you!”

His stomach rolled over. God, he was going to vomit in his bed. He jumped up, ran for the bathroom, caromed off the closed door, fumbled with the doorknob, ran inside and just made the toilet as he burped up his guts. He was dying. Everything seemed completely insane. If he looked in the mirror would he see a prime example of total madness?

He didn’t look.

* * * *

In the huge dining room Hawk smiled as Davis appeared carrying a silver coffee server.

“Thank you, Davis. I’m feeling quite lazy this morning so I would rather not sort through my clothes. Please put out several pairs of white trousers, matching socks, black polo shirts and black shoes for me. Call Dr. Tyler, then bring the phone to me.”

“Is there something special I can do for you, sir?”

“No not really. But thank you for asking. Just get Dr. Tyler for me then tend to my clothing.”

Davis was back in a minute with Dr. Tyler on the telephone.

“It’s 5:30, Hawkins. It’s Tuesday. You’re not scheduled to see me until Saturday.”

“I’ve got to see you, today, Dr. Tyler. I’ve had another dream. The faceless woman’s name is Erika.”

There was a long pause before Dr. Tyler answered. “Very well, Hawkins. Be at my office by 9:30.”

Chapter Five

“That’s an interesting dream, Hawkins. Can you possibly tell me more? Think hard for a minute.”

“There’s no need to. I told you everything.”

“All right, if you’re certain. So, we know she loves you, she’s going to be with you soon, she has blond hair, green eyes and her first name is Erika. Did she tell you her last name?”

“I don’t think she did. No, I’m certain I didn’t hear her last name. Why?”

“If she’d given you her last name, we could do as you requested and begin a search for her.”

“Then you agree with me about her being real?”

“I’m not paid to agree, or even come to a ‘written in stone’ conclusion about anything. I am paid to investigate everything and do whatever it takes to help a person. Now if we had Erika’s last name I would have a trace put out on her, even though at this stage of the game she appears to be a head fantasy.”

“Head fantasy isn’t a very clinical way to diagnose my problem. Shall we roll the voodoo bones again to see what else might come up? Okay, you don’t have to say I’m being my usual hostile self. I know I am. So, I’ll stop it right now. Let’s get back to Erika. Tell me what you would do if we had her full name.”

“I’d rather not, Hawkins. A few people I deal with want no publicity. They assist the public in various beneficial ways. Some of their methods are not entirely legal. This is of course off the record.”

“Well I’ll be. Dr. Tyler, do we really have shady deals sponsored by the man of respectability, or is my hearing going bad?”

“Keep it clinical, Hawkins. Besides what I do isn’t illegal. It is however on the borderline. It does help my clients. That’s why I do it.”

“I won’t repeat what you told me.”

“I was aware you wouldn’t before I passed on to you that bit of personal information. It was meant to assure you I am here to help you in any way I can. Now I suggest you go home. Take a few days off from college. I don’t think you’re socially able to attend classes or communicate with fellow humans for perhaps an entire week.”

“Are you saying I’m a complete mess?”