THOUGH IT WERE TEN THOUSAND MILES
By Joan Stephens

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Chapter Seven

  

Hands clasped behind his back, Elliot Burch stood in front of one of the glass walls of his office, considering the New York panorama spread out ninety-five floors below him.  He bowed his head in sadness as he heard the soft click of the door closing behind his erstwhile friend and mentor, Paul Malloy.  Paul had brought him a message–a warning–from the man behind all the shady happenings that had overwhelmed the city for the past year.  This was something he had never considered; he had trusted Paul all his business life.  To find out that the man who had counseled and guided him had been bought was a blow to his already shaky belief in the integrity of his friends and business partners.  The warning was not blatant.  No, it was couched in the most refined and evasive statements, but he knew, without a doubt, that he had been warned to back off in his effort to decode that blasted book.  Elliot turned back into the interior of his office and picked up Paul’s glass that was nearly full of the scotch that the young man had cheerfully poured for him.  Pouring the tea-colored liquid into the wet bar sink, he gazed solemnly at the glass in his hand as he tossed it from one hand to the other, considering what to do with it.  Coming to a conclusion, he pitched it into the wastebasket and wiped his hands as if they were suddenly dirty.  Unexpectedly, he smiled his charming, candid smile.  Catherine Chandler had, indeed, changed him.  At one time, an event like this would only have made him angry but now it also made him feel unclean.  He would see Joe and tell him of the warning.  Leaning over his desk, he buzzed for his secretary, Jeannie, and told her to send for Tony, he was going out for a few hours.

 

                                                        ************************

 Dozing fitfully in front of his TV, Joe was rudely awakened by a loud banging on his door.  “Who is it?” he demanded.

 

“Elliot.  Let me in.”  As Elliot barged through the partially opened door, he almost knocked over the still half-asleep man.  His two bodyguards stationed themselves on either side of the entrance.

 

Focusing his bleary eyes on Elliot as he stalked around his living room, Joe would have to be blind not to see that the man was greatly upset.  “Good god, Elliot, what’s the matter?”

 

“Can you believe it?  I’ve been warned off, Joe, by my own friend,” he raged, pacing back and forth.

 

Crossing his arms, Joe remarked as he leaned back against a wall, “Fun, isn’t it, to find out that the ones you trust are crooked?”  His eyes tracked his agitated colleague as Elliot strode rapidly through his apartment.

 

Stopping in front of Joe’s grimy windows, he stared at the brilliant, sunlit day, seeing nothing but the knowing half-smile on Paul’s face as he delivered his damning message.  “Paul Malloy has been my friend since I started to work in his brother’s construction company.  He helped me to get funding for school and shunted any business he could to me when I started my own business.  How can he do this?”

 

“Money talks, Elliot.  Even you know that; you’ve used it yourself.”

 

“I know but not like this . . . never like this.  I might grease the skids a little but nothing really illegal.”  He shook his head in dismay once again.  “By my own friend.”

 

“Hell, Elliot, I trusted Moreno and look what he did.  He warned me a long time ago.  What are you going to do?”

 

Turning from the window, Elliot walked toward the door and stopped in front of Joe, looking him straight in the eye.  Slapping his gloves in one hand, he answered, “Keep on, of course.  It’ll take a lot more than just a warning to make me stop.  I’ve got to find out what happened to her and that lousy book is the answer.”

 

“You may not like what you find,” Joe cautioned.

 

Looking at Joe from the doorway, he said, “I know, but it’s something I must do.”  Elliot softly closed the door.

 

                                                   ********************** 

That night Julia and Vincent sat on the back porch swing enjoying the night air.  He was fidgety, needing to be on his way, but Julia had convinced him to remain one more day to be sure that he was well and truly over the flu.  She had pointed out that it would do no good if he should have a relapse on the road.  Reluctantly, he agreed. The day passed swiftly when he was busy helping her but on snail’s feet when there was nothing to do.  He sat drumming his fingers on the armrest, impatient to be on his way.  Guided by the sound, she reached over and placed her soft hand on his restless fingers.  “That won’t help,” she commented.  “Try to relax.  Tomorrow will soon be here.”

 

“I know but she is about seven months now, and since we don’t know how long I was in the womb, I worry about getting to her in time.”  He got to his feet and began to pace as he always did when worried.

 

“I hope I can meet Catherine someday.  I’d like to know her.”

 

“She would feel the same way about you.  I can feel her getting drowsy and ready to sleep.” 

 

“This connection you have is truly a  remarkable thing.”  Julia said, remembering her incredulity when he had told her of their bond.  Now, after coming to know him, she knew that he did not lie, that he always told the truth if possible.

 

Sighing deeply, he nodded, “I miss her.  I need to hold her in my arms again.”

 

“I hope it will be soon, Vincent.”

 

“Yes . . . soon.”  All his love was in that reply.

 

                                                     *******************

 

The next afternoon as Elliot was holding an executive meeting with his staff, his secretary rushed in to tell him to turn on the TV and go to CNN.  The picture on the screen brought a collective gasp of dismay from the people around the conference table, and the words were indelibly printed on Elliot’s mind.  Words that he would remember forever.  “Two hundred and fifty people have died in this fire, so far.  The Lucky Break, owned by Elliot Burch, is almost completely engulfed in flames.”  The calm voice of the comely young woman reading the words printed on the paper she held in her hands was in glaring antithesis to the raging fire gutting the casino hotel.  Seated at the head of the conference table with his company’s executive officers ranged around the table, Elliot watched the TV in horror as the flames engulfed building and people alike.  Several firefighters were spraying massive amounts of water on the hotel but all was futile.  The fire had broken out and spread so rapidly that the casino was past saving in a matter of minutes.  “My god, all those people,” he whispered.

 

“This could wipe you out,” Walker, his CFO, stated.

 

Turning on him Elliot snarled, “The money’s not important; the people are.  I can always get money.”  Passing a hand over his tear-dampened eyes, he wondered, “What kind of monster is he to kill more than two hundred and fifty people to get to me?”  

 

“Whom do you mean, sir?” Walker asked.

 

“Someone I hope you never have to meet, but never mind, we need to start liquidating our assets.  Get ready for a battle.”

 

“A battle, sir?”

 

“Yes, we are in a war with some unknown force that has a strangle hold on this city.”

 

                                             ********************

He was safe, resting after his illness, no longer on the move.  Catherine had spent a few anxious days and nights when he was so ill, wishing that she was the one to care for him, but he had found a haven of peace.  She could feel his tranquility, his comfort.  Wherever he was, whomever he was with was not threatened by him but accepted him for himself.  She was relieved that he had found a safe refuge and someone to care for him.  When they were both safely back in the tunnels, she would make sure that that person received her thanks, and she would do anything she could for them.  She hoped he would remain where he was until he was fully well.  She was aware of his driving need to put himself in harm’s way for her, and she was grateful that the unknown person had persuaded him to stay until he was better.

 

As she was finishing her homework, she heard Elliot’s name mentioned on the six o’clock news.  His prize casino, The Lucky Break, was going up in smoke.  So many people killed.  She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.  “Poor Elliot, what will this do to him?” she murmured.

 

“Are you crying for Burch?” Gabriel’s voice broke into her thoughts.  Enthralled, she had not heard him enter her room.  It pleased him to unsettle her, entering her room unexpectedly.  Angrily, she brushed away the tears.  “Yes, for his dream.  You did this,” she accused him.

 

“He has disappointed me.  I warned him.”

 

“What has he done?”

 

“He has Hanlon’s book.”

 

Catherine directed a thin smile at him.  “I wonder how that happened?” she asked sardonically.

 

“I think Maxwell had something to do with it.  I’ll take care of him after Burch is broken.  In a matter of months, Burch will be penniless.”

 

“He’ll just start over.”

 

Gabriel shrugged.  “He may have a tough time.  You see what can happen to people who disappoint me.  Think carefully about giving me the child.”  With that, he spun on his heels, leaving her to stare in loathing after him. 

 

“Never!” she mouthed.

 

                                                        *****************

 

At last, the night of his departure had come.  Julia stood in the doorway, listening to Vincent pack.  She turned abruptly and left.  Vincent glanced up when he noticed her leave then returned to his packing.  He could hear her rummaging in her room, and he wondered what she looking for, and if she might need his help.  In a few minutes she returned with a rolled up sleeping bag and a warm coat, which she offered to him.  “These were my husband’s.  He was about your size.”

 

“I can’t take these, Julia.  You’ve already given me more than enough.”

 

“Please, Vincent, I want you to have them.  They need to be used.  Don would want you to have them.  You need them.  The days are getting cooler.  I don’t want you to get ill again and be delayed in getting to your Catherine.  I want someone I care about to have them.”

 

“All right, Julia, thank you.”  He slung the backpack over his shoulder, picked up the coat,  sleeping bag, and canteen.  With his other hand, he took her arm and then went into the kitchen.

 

“There’s a package of food on the table for you; all I could spare.”                   

 

“You’ve been more than a friend, Julia, you’ve been a godsend.  I can’t thank you enough.”  He engulfed her in a huge bear hug.  Releasing her, he bent down and scratched Max behind the ears.  “Take good care of her, Max.”

 

Tearfully, she chuckled.  “Actually, Vincent, I should thank you.  You have literally opened my eyes.”  Together, they walked out onto the back porch.  “Be sure to let me know what happens.”  She stood on tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, then patted him on the chest.  “Be careful,” she admonished.

 

“I promise.  Goodbye.”  He slipped into the dark.

 

She stood listening as his footsteps faded into the distance.  “Come on, Max.  Let’s go in.  It’s time for bed.”  It would be lonely for a while without him, but she had plans for the future.  He had taught her that adversity could be overcome.  She intended to live life from now on.

 

                                                          ******************** 

Curled up on the chaise lounge, Catherine looked up from her reading when Martha arrived.  “Hi, Cathy, how are you feeling?”

 

Catherine laid the book on the table beside her.  “Uncomfortable.  This baby is so active.  He seems to take particular delight in kicking me in the ribs.  I’m going to be black and blue by the time he’s born.”

 

Grinning at the young woman’s happy complaining, Martha moved purposefully to the desk.  “Let’s get busy with the lessons so we can have some time for chess.”

 

The young woman got up and poured two glasses of iced tea from the moisture covered pitcher sitting on the corner of the dressing table.  Knowing that Martha would be overly warm from the hot and humid morning, she had requested the iced tea, and it had arrived just before Martha did.

 

Clearing the desk, the older woman deposited a load of books then sat down.  Catherine handed one glass to the older woman, then placed her own glass on the desk, and pulled a chair next to Martha, settling awkwardly into it.  Soon they were engrossed in this day’s lesson.  Martha had the facility to make even the most boring of lessons interesting.  Her stern exterior had softened considerably.  They worked well together and had developed a friendship of sorts.  There was still a part of her life that Martha kept hidden.  Catherine, understanding secrets, did not push her to be any more than she was: her teacher.  She just enjoyed the company. 

 

When the lesson was completed, Catherine set up the chessboard between them.  “You take white,” she offered.  Martha made the first move.

 

“Checkmate,” Catherine announced later in triumph.

 

“You’ve improved considerably,” Martha told her, setting up the board for another game.

 

“Thanks to you.  You’re a wonderful teacher.  I might even be able to beat my friend although I doubt it.  He’s an excellent player.  Too bad he can’t play tournament chess.”

 

“Why can’t he?”  Martha was intrigued by the story of this remarkable woman sitting across from her and the man she loved. 

 

“He’s special. Different, wonderful, beautiful.”  Catherine’s eyes softened with love as she spoke of him.  “I could go on, but he can’t live among the people of this world.”

 

“I see . . . No.  I don’t see.  What’s wrong with him?”

 

“It’s his physical form.  He frightens people who don’t look beyond the outer surface to the inner man.  He’s gentle, kind, strong, courageous, and he loves me as I’ve never been loved before.  He has spent his entire life overcoming adversity that would break a lesser man.  Maybe some day you will meet him.”

 

“I would love to.  He sounds like a very interesting person.  Does he have a name?” Martha asked with a grin.

 

About to tell her, Catherine paused.  Surely just his name would not hurt.  She thought she could trust Martha that far.  “Vincent,” she answered with a sigh.

 

“Vincent.  What a strong, masculine name.  It means the conqueror, doesn’t it?”

 

Catherine nodded her head.

 

There was silence for a few minutes then the older woman seemed to draw herself up straight and, taking a deep breath, inquired, “Cathy, may I ask you a question?”

 

“Surely.”

 

“How do you do it?”

 

“Do what?” Catherine asked quizzically.

 

Martha dropped her eyes.  “Maintain your cheerfulness, your optimism in the face of what awaits you.  I hear the servants whispering among themselves.  They call you ‘the poor lady.’”

 

“Vincent.  He showed me what courage is.  Besides, I know in the deepest part of me that we will win out in the end.”

 

Martha had no reply to such deep abiding faith.

 

After she left, Catherine finished her studies then laid down for a nap.  As the pregnancy progressed, she discovered that she tired more easily and an afternoon nap restored her energy.  Besides, it gave her a chance to be with Vincent in her dreams.  Later, after her nourishing but drab dinner--she wished that they were a little more creative in the kitchen and then immediately felt ashamed when she thought that Vincent might not have anything to eat–she took a walk in the garden.  The roses were particularly lovely this evening.  There was one large red rose that brought Vincent to her thoughts.  He had been very much on her mind today.  He seemed so much closer.  Although her part of their bond was not as strong as his; nevertheless, he seemed closer.  “Be well, my love, be safe,” she breathed to the rising wind, hoping it would take her words to him.  “I miss you.  I love you.  We love you.  Hurry home.”  She wrapped her arms possessively around her swollen abdomen, holding the baby within her.  He was suddenly very quiet as if he was listening.  “We do love him, baby, don’t we?”  The child began to move, causing her to wonder if there was a bond developing between them and their child.

 

                                                     ********************* 

Diana had been called to the DA’s office to meet with the temporary DA.  She wondered who it was now that John Moreno was missing.  She knocked on the office door.

 

“Come in,” a vaguely familiar voice called.

 

When she entered, the man was sitting with his back to her, looking out the window.  He spun around to confront her.

 

“Joe!” she exclaimed.  “They made you the new DA?”

 

“Yeah,” he grinned, “Being laid off worked in my favor.  The others are tainted by association.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“I’ll tell you later.  Are you still working on the missing girl case?” he asked, gazing intently at her.

 

She sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs facing his desk.  That was one of the perks of being the Manhattan District Attorney, the comfortable furniture.  Even his desk chair molded itself to his body and was the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in.  He even had his own parking space. 

 

“No,” she said, leaning back wearily.  “We lost her when the kidnapper killed himself.  I was just about to start on the Chandler case.”

 

“Good,” he said with a happy grin.  “I want you to add the Moreno case.  I think they are related.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Diana asked, rummaging through her voluminous handbag for a tissue.  She was coming down with a cold.

 

“Moreno was dirty, Diana,” Joe stated flatly.

 

“Not Moreno!”  She straightened up in surprise.  “He has a spotless reputation.  What proof do you have?”

 

“Oh, I have the proof all right.  I have plenty of proof, but I really need help with Cathy’s case.”

 

“All right, I’ll get right on it, but I want to see this proof you claim to have.”

 

“Don’t worry.  I’ll have Andrea give it to you.”

 

“Thanks.  Oh, I work better alone, Joe.  I don’t want any partners.  When I have anything, I’ll let you know.”

 

“Ok, fair enough.  I’ll tell the super of Cathy’s apartment building that you will pick up the keys.”

 

Nodding her head, Diana stood up as Joe came around the desk.  “Get busy on this, Diana.  I have a feeling time is running out.”

 

“I’ll keep you informed,” Diana said as she left.

 

                                                        *************** 

After a delicious meal of spaghetti Milanese at his mother’s, Joe pleaded a previous commitment and went Below to see Jacob.  Zach, one of the tunnel kids who was leaving just as he was coming through the Park threshold, told him that he had seen the tunnel patriarch enter the Great Hall and offered to guide him there.  Pointing out the door to the Great Hall, Zach hurried off on his own errand after Joe had thanked him for his kindness.  Jacob was standing in front of the painting by Kristopher Gentian when Joe breezed into the huge cavern. 

 

“It’s a lovely painting, isn’t it?” Jacob asked, never taking his eyes from the sight of his son and the woman who loved him.

 

“Yes, it is,” Joe agreed.  “When I’m above, I find it hard to believe he’s real.  Then I see the painting and I know he’s real.”

 

Tenderly Jacob touched the faces on the canvas.  “I know.  I come here often to find strength and solace from the love they share.  Joe, if ever two people were destined for each other, it’s those two.  It’s as if they were incomplete until they met.  Now they are whole.  God, I miss them.”  He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders sagging.

 

“Well, maybe the news I have for you will help.”  Jacob raised a forlorn, hopeful face to the younger man.  Joe continued, “I’ve added one more member to the team.  Diana Bennett is a topnotch investigator and the power of her mind and imagination is fantastic.”

 

“You really think she can help?” the tunnel patriarch asked expectantly.

 

“I certainly hope so.  I don’t know what else to do.  Elliot’s working on decoding the book, and Diana will work on Cathy’s disappearance.”

 

“What will you tell her about this world and Vincent?” Jacob asked quietly.

 

“Nothing.  I gave my word and I’ll stick to it, but I think that you will find that she can be trusted with your secret.  I’ve never heard about her giving out any private information on one of her cases.”  He chuckled, remembering how hard it had been to even get her to work on the case.  “If she’s as good as they say, she won’t need any help from me.”

 

“We will just have to wait and see,” the older man said reluctantly.  “Is there anything more that I can . . . ?  What can we do?”

 

“Just keep your people asking around.  They might come up with something yet.”

 

“I wish there was more I could do.  I feel so impotent.”

 

Joe clapped him on the shoulder, remembering his father’s murder and how impotent he felt at the time.  “You have the hardest job of all, Jacob, to keep the home fires burning, to wait.”

 

                                                    ******************* 

Days later, Elliot dropped by Joe’s office to report some progress in decoding the book.  “Mason, the code expert Manning found for us is beginning to crack the code.  We have the names of Malloy-Davidson and the Norton-Hanover Trust.”

 

“Malloy is the friend who . . .”

 

“Yeah . . . anyway I thought he was my friend.”

 

“Any idea how long it will take to finish?” Joe asked.

 

Elliot shook his head.  “It’s slow going, Joe, but the more code that’s cracked the faster it should go.”

 

“God, I hope so,” the young DA said in frustration.  “Elliot, there’s a new member on the team, Diana Bennett.  She’s one of the best investigators I know.  She’ll be working strictly on Cathy’s disappearance.”

 

“Well, we need all the help we can get.  Maybe she can find out where Cathy’s being held,” Elliot  turned to leave.

 

“You think she’s alive then?” Joe queried.

 

The dapper architect turned back to his partner in the search for Cathy and nodded his head solemnly, “Yes, I do.  Don’t ask me why, but I do.  Don’t you?”

 

Joe nodded in confirmation, “Yeah, I haven’t given up hope.”

 

                                                  ***************** 

The lessons for the day were over, the chess games played amid much good-natured bantering and teasing accomplished mostly by facial expressions and rolling of the eyes, well hidden from the ever present glinting eye of the surveillance camera.  They were afraid that if it appeared that they were becoming close friends Gabriel would stop the lessons.  Whenever they could, they whispered their growing friendship or wrote little notes that were immediately destroyed.  Still Martha seemed reluctant to leave.  “What is it, Martha?” Catherine asked.

 

This was a safe subject as Gabriel had told her when he summoned her to try to convince Catherine to give up her child.   “Why do you do it?  Why do you defy him?  It’s just going to cost you your life.  He’s promised not to kill you or Vincent if you give him the baby.”

 

“Don’t you see?  Even if I die or we both die we will have won.”

 

“How can you say that?” Martha asked, puzzled.  “Dead is dead.”

 

“True, but if I do what he wants, he has control over me.”

 

Exasperated, Martha quipped, “Well, it seems to me that he has control over you right now.” 

 

“No, he only controls my body.  My spirit is free and the worst that he can do is kill me.  If I die true to myself, true to Vincent, I will have won.  Even if I die alone and unmourned, if no one knew of my battle for the truth, I would win for I would know that I had been true to Vincent, myself and our love.”

 

They were silent for a few minutes, each thinking their own thoughts, when Catherine said, “If I were to do what Gabriel wants, I would lose everything that I love.  I would lose Vincent’s love and trust.  That would be worse than death to me, it would be a living hell.”

 

Martha’s eyes filled with tears.  “I wish I were as strong as you.”

 

The young woman pulled the older woman’s head to her shoulder.  “You can be,” she whispered, “We all have the strength if we follow our hearts.”

 

“Thanks, Cathy.”  She straightened up, dashing the tears away.  “I’ve got to go.  See you in a couple days.  Get you homework done.”

 

“Don’t worry.  I’ll have it done this evening,” Catherine chuckled.

 

In the hallway Martha met Pope.  “What was going on in there?” he demanded.

 

The bottom dropped out her stomach.  Remembering her conversation with Cathy, she mustered as much courage as she could and smiled, nervously.  “Nothing.  Why?”

 

“You were huddled together, whispering.”

 

“Oh that, I’ve had a really bad day, and she was just comforting me.  After all, today is the anniversary of my husband’s death.  You ought to know that.”

 

Pope stared at her coldly.  “Don’t get too close to her.  She won’t be around for long.”

 

“I know,” the frightened woman replied.

 

He watched her closely as she hurriedly walked away.  This bears watching, he thought.

 

                                                               ************ 

After leaving Julia, Vincent traveled through the Appalachians for several days.  At these higher altitudes the nights were getting colder as the days marched toward winter.  He had to reach the city before winter set in and that could happen as early as October.  It was still September, late September, and Autumn was in the air. The leaves were beginning to turn color, even though the days were still relatively warm.  But the nights were increasingly cooler, and he was thankful for the coat that Julia had given him.  He had to reach home before it became too cold.

 

About midnight he topped a small rise and came upon a car and pickup lying on their sides, smashed together.  Hearing moans emanating from the wrecks, he cautiously approached.  As gently as he could, he extricated two young people, a boy and a girl, from a red mustang and two young men from a silver and blue Dodge pickup.  He examined them as best he could after laying them on the ground.  Miraculously, the girl was just scratched and bruised, not seriously hurt.  The others had various broken bones and head wounds, and Vincent covered them with whatever was on hand.

 

“No, stay away,” the girl screamed when she saw him.

 

Shrinking back from her, he said, “I mean you no harm.  You’re hurt.  So are they.  Let me help you . . . please.”

 

“What are you?” she cried, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Only what you see.”

 

“Who are you?”  She uncovered her eyes to look at him fearfully and then in wonder as she realized that he meant her no harm.

 

“No one, just a traveler.  Are you all right?” he asked.

 

Suddenly her face filled with alarm, “Joey?  Where’s Joey?”  She struggled to sit up.  “Oh, my head,” she said, clutching at her head.

 

“Is there another?”  Alarmed, Vincent looked back at the wreckage.

 

She hesitated then gave him her hand as he helped her to her feet.  Unsteady as she was, Vincent kept her from falling.  “Yes, my boyfriend, Joey.”

 

Looking around, he found the young man, out of sight, pinned up to his hips under the mustang.  “When I lift the car, pull him out . . . carefully.”

 

“You can do that?” she asked in awe.

 

“Yes.”  He reached down, grabbed the car and, with a mighty effort, lifted it enough for her to pull the young man out.

 

Frantically, she began to call the boy’s name, clutching at him, trying to wake him up.  In an effort to calm her, Vincent asked, “What’s your name?”  He knelt by the battered body, checking for life-threatening injuries.

 

“Marcie,” she answered, watching this strange looking man assess her boyfriend’s injuries.

 

“What happened here, Marcie?”

 

“I don’t really know.  We were just joyriding and all of a sudden there was this pickup in front of us.  I don’t know where it came from.”

 

“Joey is lucky.  He has no serious injuries that I can find, just two broken legs.  You are all very lucky.  Is there somewhere you can go for assistance?”

 

“Yeah, there’s a convenience store just down the road.”

 

Sitting down on the ground beside Joey’s unconscious body, he said, “I can’t stay long.  I must go before the police arrive, but I will stay until you get back.”

 

In a few minutes, she was back.  “They’re coming,” she said breathlessly.

 

Standing up, he picked up his backpack and sleeping bag.  “I must go.  Can you handle things from now on?  Will you be all right?”

 

She would have liked to have him stay with her, but she made the first adult decision in her life, realizing that he would be in terrible danger if he stayed with her.  Bravely, she stated, “Yes, I think so.”

 

“Don’t move them,” he cautioned and was out of sight in a minute.

 

She settled beside Joey and held his hand.  “Hey mister, thank you, whoever you are,” she called after him. 

 

His gentle, raspy voice floated back to her, “You are welcome.  Take care.”

 

She thought she would always remember that voice, and for many years afterward, she dreamt of him.  In the short space of an hour, she had started to grow up and become the woman she was capable of being.  She never forgot him.