Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (22 page)

“No, no it’s okay.” He can
see the horror of realizing what she just said in her eyes. “I know you
didn’t.” He sighs. “Your right. I’ve had a hunch for a while that I should see
them sooner rather than later.”

“It’s the right thing to
do.” She’s relieved, he hasn’t taken offense.

“It is.” She doesn’t want
him to go, and pauses before she continues. “You can arrange a flight out
tomorrow. Spend some time with them; they’ll be missing you.”

“Will you come with me?”

“No. It’s your time Jeff. I
can’t come in between, they would only resent me.”

Al and his new companion
pass the table without a single glance in their direction. Minutes later the
sound of the Harley draws the eye to the girl hoisting herself up and sitting
astride as pillion. Al clunks the bike into gear, and cruises out onto
the highway. He’s not going to be bothering Eve whilst
Jeff’s away.

It’s late in the evening and
Eve takes a shower. Jeff’s outside watching the age old battle of positive and
negative ions. Streaks of light dance in the distant skies. He holds in his
hand a miniature music box. Slowly he turns the fragile handle listening to the
fairy tale sound. Eve can hear the music as she approaches; pausing, she leans
against the door. A poetic moment of sadness made even more so, as Jeff looks
out across the desert towards the approaching storm. Wearing only a towel Eve
steps out onto the porch, bare feet on timber; a childlike excitement as she
creeps up on him.

“What you got there, honey?”

 
“A music box.” He displays it in his hand.

“Let me see.” Eve holds her
hand out and Jeff passes it to her. A purple and pink fairy tale castle; two
princesses and one knight. “A present from your daughters?”

“Yes, I was their knight in
shining armor.” He feels a deep sadness. “They gave it to me. It was custom
painted for my birthday. For years I kept it in my office; a token of their
love.”

“And then I came along?” She
enquires, curious.

“You know it wasn’t like
that. I love you.”

“Enough to stay here?”

“Of course.”

“So you’re staying?”

“Yeah.” He’s surprised she
has to ask.

“As long as you don’t
leave?” Why does she feel so insecure?

“I promise, I’ll never leave
you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Eve
turns the handle “It’s a beautiful sound.” She hands it back to Jeff. “A
wonderful gift, you must be proud of them.”

“I am.” He wonders, Eve’s
not mentioned children. “Would you like to be a mom?”

“You offering?” This isn’t
like Jeff.

“I’m asking.”

“Yeah, maybe. Is a life
wasted for a woman if she doesn’t have children of her own?”

“No.” He frowns. “That’s
like saying a woman’s sole purpose is the continuation of the species.”

“I agree, but however you
look at it, my body is designed to bring children into the world. My breasts
weren’t created for you alone to suckle on, were they?”

“In my eyes, yes.”

“Get out of it.” She loves
the attention. “Here, have a beer.”

The storm’s drawing ever
closer. Whipping wisps of sand can be seen, swirling dark shadows in the
desert. The old timber weathervane starts to creak and groan.

“Do you feel rain?” He’s
sure he just felt a spot.

“Yeah, best we get in.”

“Do you think this place
would hold together in a bad storm?”

“Has done so far.”

Eve brings down a large
sheepskin rug and a blanket to wrap around their shoulders. They settle in
front of the fire. The crackle and occasional pop adds to the ambiance, warm
and secure as the storm rages towards them. The rain has turned to lashings,
beating against the windows and timbers of the building. This makes the moment
more precious for two people, sheltering together, so in love. Later, in
passionate embrace, their skin glistens in the flames.
 

Jeff looks up at the music
box sitting on the side; considers his feelings of betrayal. His daughters'
knight in shining armor has become the dragon that other knights wish to slay.
Eve follows his eyes. The moment is bittersweet for her, for she holds the
darkest secret of all.

The heat ripples
at Pueblo Memorial Airport. Eve stands beside her beloved Camaro, studying the
crazy-paved baked tarmac of the car park. Waiting for the plane carrying Jeff
to take off. The distant turbines start to howl; shimmering, the plane thrusts
forwards: reaching airspeed it leaves both the safety of the ground and Eve’s
concerns behind.

Jeff looks through the
window trying to locate the car, and Eve. The moment is exhausted as quickly as
it presents itself; disappointment leaves only the contrasting plains of the
South West to contemplate. For protection, Eve gave him a Saint Christopher
that belonged to her grandma; he holds it in his hand. Jeff tries to focus his
mind on what lies in Cambridge; the memories and expectation of things to come.
How will he be received by his daughters?

 
The air miles are mercifully short, and the
pilot backs off airspeed for descent. The familiar quilted city landscape
residing alongside estuaries reassures passengers that all’s well. The plane
circles over the glistening waters of Massachusetts Bay and over Long Island
before making the final approach. Touchdown is a routine affair, landing safely
and on time at Boston's Logan International Airport.

Once through the gate, Jeff
finds a quiet area in the lounge. He promised Eve he would phone on touchdown.
He receives 'the number you have dialed is not valid' message. This is Eve’s
primary phone, and there’s no landline back at the ranch. He tries once more
and folds in to the fact that he’ll have to phone later from the apartment.
Jeff makes his way through the airport, feeling the loneliness of the crowd.
Not a soul waits here for his arrival. A shiny white limousine draws up, and
Jeff steps into the back.

“Kingston Court, Cambridge
near the university please.”

“Sure, good flight?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jeff settles into the
leather seat as the cabbie turns on the meter. They travel through the tunnel
beneath the inner harbor, exiting into the glory of daylight and the bustling
metropolis that defines the Boston landscape.

The capital and largest city
of Massachusetts defines itself through music, sports and culture. This city,
these streets are alive and vibrant. The Charles River crossing is
thought-provoking, the terrain flat, open and picturesque with all manner of
yachts, speed and sail boats. Instead of mountains and plains, high rise
buildings built from quarried stone now form squares and rectangles rising into
the sky. Jeff hasn’t paid any attention to the driver until now. He’s young,
friendly, and charismatic. He wouldn’t look out of place as a leading actor,
wearing a grey fedora hat, with brown shoulder length hair, a designer beard
and round metal framed glasses. His hands stretch up to the steering wheel,
displaying colorful leather beads and bands around his wrists.

“Business or pleasure?”

“I’ve an apartment here.”
Jeff’s thoughts are in the past. “I’ve lectured at the university for many
years.”

“Academic. I’m more your
free spirit so to speak, but then again what better place than the university
to meet young ladies?”

“Yes, what better place?”

Early memories of Eve flood
back. It was in the summer of 2007. All postgraduates face a new ladder to
climb; this is their first day. Jeff sets up his equipment and checks his notes
are in order. The theatre fills up around him. He’s to ensure that all new
students leave with the impression that their course is off to a good start.
Eve catches his eye as she walks in. His first thought is 'what are you doing
here'? And does a double take, the realization filtering through; he didn’t
know her, and yet feels he does.

“Here we are.” The driver’s
voice slices through time.

Jeff takes out his wallet,
pays the driver and reaches for the door handle.

“One moment, here’s my card,
the name's Joe.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Jeff tucks the card into his
pocket, and steps out onto the sidewalk. He doesn’t hear the taxi pull away;
his senses are still in the past, focused on the house that’s been his home
since the marriage failed. A five story mid-nineteenth century red brick
bow-front house. It has a small garden that blooms out onto the sidewalk,
fenced with ornate black cast iron. Jeff walks up the concrete steps, opens the
front door, and walks into the communal hallway. There’s little mail in his
pigeon hole. Before he reaches the stairs the ground floor apartment opens.

“Mr. Gregory, how are you
today?” The old timer stands in a tartan dressing gown, expressionless and
without a smile. “Mr. Gregory?” He simply walks back into his apartment,
closing the door without saying a word. Jeff’s concerned he’s had a funny turn;
he reminds himself to check on him later. Walking up the stairs, he hears the
door open again. Is Mr. Gregory avoiding him?

The old brown door to his
apartment shudders against the frame. Jeff walks in; something feels wrong. It
only takes a second.

“Where are my photographs?”

Closer inspection reveals no
holes in the wall paper, where he knocked the nails in to hang them in the
first place. Fearing a burglary, he goes through all his personal possessions.
Everything of value is here except his car keys, photographs, paperwork, and
keepsakes relating to his years of teaching. Why would anyone want those?
There’s no signs of forced entry. He walks to the back of the property. When he
reaches his allocated parking spot, the car’s no longer there. It appears
someone else took the liberty of parking in his spot.

The police spend their
valuable time listening to Jeff’s account, and take a statement. They are
equally baffled. Then discover that Jeff’s parking spot has been rented by the
owner of the car parked there for over twelve months. Jeff has no vehicle
registered in the police database. In fact the cops aren’t even sure if he’s been
a lecturer at the university. Are they dealing with a psychopath? Towering over
Jeff, the cop tactfully defuses the situation, whilst ensuring he doesn’t
trouble them again.

“Dr. Davies. We have no idea
where your personal photographs and memorabilia are. Without any evidence of a
break in there’s nothing we can do.”

“Someone’s been here.”
Jeff’s aghast; he feels violated and humiliated. “There must be something you
can do?”

“Our investigations show no
vehicle is registered to you. The parking spot you claim as yours has been
rented by a neighbor for over twelve months.”

“That’s not possible.” What
the fuck’s going on?

“Dr. Davies, do not approach
the vehicle owner. Make sure your facts are clear and correct before calling us
out. It’s an offense to do so otherwise.” The
cop’s
angry at this time waster. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly, but-”

“That’s all I need to hear.
Goodbye, Dr. Davies.”

Complicating matters
further, Eve’s telephone connection is still unobtainable. Confusion deepens
when he turns the laptop on, and discovers that all correspondence with Eve has
been deleted. Lonely and confused Jeff retires for the night. The last voice he
hears before drifting into sleep tells him that 'the number you have phoned is
not valid'.

Not so many miles away from
Jeff’s apartment is a quiet sleepy neighborhood where good folks sleep soundly
and dogs don’t bark at night. It’s here the special blue townhouse resides, the
most beautiful rose amongst the many. The hue of the streetlamp shines through
the landing window, reflecting on the pink bedroom door where at this precise
moment secret whispers may be heard.

“Louise.” Jessica waits for
an answer and doesn’t receive one. “Louise, are you awake?”

“No, go to sleep.” Louise is
too tired to be bothered with her sister’s stupid questions.

“Louise.”

“What?” She snaps.

“Dad’s coming tomorrow.”

“So?”

“Do you think they’ll get
back together?”

Louise reaches for the
bedside lamp and switches it on. The girls squint their eyes whilst white
butterflies, fairies and unicorns illuminate pink bedroom walls. They share the
bedside cabinet which resides between two flower-quilted single beds. Louise
looks at her sister and shakes her head.

“No.” Her voice is sad. She
wishes Jessica would leave it alone.

“Why not?”

“Mom said she doesn’t care
if he drops dead.”

“When did she say that?”
Jessica’s shocked. What an awful thing to say.

“On the phone. She said he
was a deadbeat dad.” Louise emphasized the words 'deadbeat dad'.

“Who was she talking to?” As
far as she’s concerned, mom shouldn’t be saying such horrible things.

“I don’t know.” Louise
doesn’t care. “Anyway, she’s got Steve.”

“He’s creepy, I don’t like
him. I wish we had dad.”

“Well we don’t, shut up and
go to sleep.”

Louise turns the bedside
lamp off, and the room is once again in darkness.

“Still wish we had dad.”