Steve’s smile again transformed, this time into a more serious expression. He allowed his lips to graze Kerri’s. “It’s nice to be back,” he groaned, then gently placed his right hand against the back of her head and pulled her into a long and passionate kiss. She responded eagerly. At last she was where she wanted be, in the arms of a man she had thought would forever be unavailable. The multitude of problems that had plagued her for so long were temporarily forgotten.
CHAPTER 64
The next stop on Kerri’s planned itinerary was Steve’s Port Carling home, the place she knew he had not seen since the day of his accident. Even though Steve’s therapist had encouraged her to take him there, she worried that the exposure could upset him further. His last day in the house did not end well.
“Stop here,” Steve said as they drove slowly through the village and approached the Canada Post building, an aging one story, red bricked edifice on Highway 118, also the main street.
Kerri parked in front of the building while Steve fumbled in his pocket. He removed a key ring holding at least six keys, then stepped from the car and hurried inside. He emerged three minutes later holding a five inch stack of envelopes and flyers. She continued her drive while Steve sorted his stack, consisting primarily of letters from attorneys, bills, and junk mail. She turned right on Stephen Road and continued until Steve pointed to his driveway. “There it is. Turn left here.”
She stopped in the small parking area, less then fifty feet from the front door. An ugly mixture of mud, gravel and ice coated the wheels of her car. She emerged from the car and studied the small, dark green stained, single story wood framed structure. She saw the blue white southern extension of Lake Rosseau through the tall hemlocks beyond. “It’s beautiful,” she said, and meant it. The thought of living in a setting as modest, natural and tranquil was enormously appealing to her. She turned to face Steve, who was now standing beside her and still sorting his mail. “Did you hear me?” she asked.
He nodded. “Thank you,” he said, still examining his mail. He removed an envelope from his stack and handed it to her. “This one’s for you.”
She glanced at the letter and verified that it was, indeed, addressed to her at her Tribeca home. The March thirty-first postal stamp confused her. ‘RETURN TO SENDER. FORWARDING ADDRESS UNKNOWN’ was stamped on the front in bold red letters. She turned the envelope over and was shocked to see that the sender was Steve. “This is from you… Do you remember sending it?”
He gave her a blank stare, then shook his head.
“I’m going to open it and read it to you. Do you mind?”
“No. Go ahead.”
She opened the envelope, taking care not to destroy it, then read aloud,
“Dear Kerri;
There is so much I want to say to you, it’s difficult to know where to start. A large part of me is insisting that I do it in person, but a larger part wants me to do it in writing. I’m not sure why, but I think the first part is afraid I’ll make a mistake, leave something out, say it the wrong way, or worst of all, say something I’ll regret. After what’s just happened in my life, I’m not exactly long on confidence.
The first thing I want to do is to thank you again for everything you have done for my mother. I appreciate it more than you could ever know. Your generous efforts and unique insight into the source of her grief have made an incredible difference in her attitude in a very short period of time. It is my sincere hope that someday I’ll be in a position to thank you in a much more tangible way.
Next, I want to explain to you why I ended my wedding the way I did. I don’t expect you to understand, but I think I owe it to you. I wanted to tell you at the reception, but you were with my mother at the time. I did not want her to know what I was planning to do because she would have tried to stop me, or forced me to give her an extended explanation. I couldn’t do it. I was in shut down mode. It took every ounce of emotional strength I had left to make my apologies and leave. The woman I had just married had hurt me like I’ve never been hurt before. Even worse, she did it dishonestly. It was painful to stand in front of my friends and the guests at my own wedding and disappoint them the way I did, but my only justification is that my disappointment was larger than theirs.
I had just learned that the woman I thought I loved had terminated her pregnancy, clinically, without telling me. The news was devastating. Learning of the abortion from a friend of Christine’s only increased the pain. I don’t know when Christine planned to tell me, but whenever it was, it was far too late. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay and pretend for one second longer than I did. I’m sure some people will accuse me of being a quitter, but I know in my heart they’re wrong. I was running away from dishonesty. I can’t live with it. I never will. I experienced it so frequently while I travelled the world with Paracon. I didn’t belong in a culture that fed at that trough, so I left, disappeared into obscurity. I need to stay there until I can be certain of what to do with the rest of my life.
You are a wonderful woman, Kerri King. You and I share a special and unique bond. We agreed to be friends, and you lived up to your end of the bargain. I didn’t. I’m telling you this because there is something inside me that I know will torment me until I do. I knew from the second I saw you at The Health Club last September that you were special. You proved it in so many ways: by sharing my pain, by attending my father’s memorial, and by caring so selflessly for my mother. You have a strength of character that I would very much like to get to know, if you will let me.
By the time you read this, I will have left Canada. I don’t know where I’m going, or how long I’ll be gone, but it will be far and it will be for as long as it takes.
Until we meet again,
Your friend,
Steve.”
Tears had flooded her eyes long before she finished reading. It was obvious that Steve had written the letter after he ended his marriage to Christine and before his accident. Equally obvious was the fact that he cared a great deal for her, and that he had been deeply hurt.
The letter affected Steve in an entirely different way. Like a mind-stimulating miracle drug, it went to work. It started as a gentle trickle, then graduated to a torrent. An explosion of visions flashed through his brain: his marriage to Christine in Naples, his wedding vows, the horrifying revelation of Jennifer Adams that the woman he had married had terminated her pregnancy, his unilateral termination of the wedding, his confrontation with Jamie Stewart, the writing of the letter to Kerri, his final visit to The Monster, and finally, his accident. His blank stare transformed into a knowing smile. “I remember,” he said, then took Kerri into his arms and kissed her, long and hard.
Kerri responded eagerly to the kiss, deliriously happy that the letter had done so much for his memory, thrilled to be in Steve’s arms, wanting to stay there. “I’ll let you,” she whispered after the kiss ended.
“You’ll let me do what?” he asked, puzzled.
“Get to know me.”
CHAPTER 65
Toronto. Thursday, April 18.
As was her usual early morning custom, Kerri reached for her Blackberry and checked her calls and emails. Still in her pink nightgown and sitting on the edge of the queen-sized bed in the guest bedroom of her father’s home, she scanned the hundreds of calls she had received and not returned. Most were from representatives of the media, hoping to talk to her, desperate for an exclusive interview. One of the calls was from Andrea Dennis, attempting to explain why she had prematurely disclosed her secret, and pleading for her forgiveness. Two additional calls managed to catch her attention. The first was from Marsha Cooper, advising her that Sydney Mortimer, lawyer for the Iacardi Shareholders, had called to advise her that he had no intention of dropping the case against her. He said, “as a result of your delays and refusal to sign the Enerco offer, his clients had experienced pain and suffering and substantially increased costs,” she said, then ad
ded, “A little bit of good news however. You’ll be happy to know that I just deposited a hundred million in your Rainy Day account. I was impressed that Enerco could stroke a check for that much money. As per your instructions, I’ve paid the I.R.S. and deducted my fees from the balance. You still have a little more than bus fare home in the bank. Anyway, cheer up. I know you’re unemployed and lonely, but you’ve still got your self respect and my eternal admiration. You asked me to go to war with you, and still I intend to do that. Have a great day and call me when you get a chance.”
The second call to attract her attention was from Sandra Schafer. “Miss King, my name is Sandra Schafer. I’m an accountant with Enerco in Houston. You don’t know me, but I think you should. I’ve been following your story in the newspapers and on television, and I want you to know that I think you are an amazing person. I can only imagine the courage it took to do what you have done. I also think the people who removed you as president of Iacardi must be crazy. I’m aware that you have been offered a job with Enerco, and I don’t know what your plans are in that connection. Regardless of whether you accept the offer or not, I would very much like to talk to you as soon as possible. I have managed to compile irrefutable evidence that Enerco is breaking the law in a number of ways. I dearly want to take my information to the appropriate authorities and blow the whistle, but I’m afraid that by so doing, I’ll lose my job. The regime here is very strict. We can’t even criticize management without being punished in some way. Last week I approached my boss with my information and asked him to help me. Unfortunately, he’s also afraid of losing his job, so he refused to help me. He did, however, suggest that you might be interested. He thought you might see it as opportunity to give Ken Layton, Jeffrey Wheeler, and Andrew Speers what they deserve. Both my boss and I think all three should be put in jail for what they’re doing. I’m sure that if you take the time to look at the evidence I have, you’ll agree. I would be grateful if you would be kind enough to return my call. In case you would prefer to communicate by email, I’ve already sent you my address.”
Kerri turned off her Blackberry and exhaled. She placed it on her night table, then lowered her head to the nearest pillow and began to ponder the implications of Schafer’s call, and the implications of getting involved. She would be confronting dangerous people. Jeffrey Wheeler was the only one of the three Enerco executives mentioned by Schafer whom she had met, but her memory of the meeting was still clear in her mind. He had blatantly attempted to blackmail her, and it was obvious that he enjoyed doing so. He had told her that if she refused to sign the Enerco Offer to Purchase Iacardi & Sons, he planned to reveal the details of her Swiss bank account to the I.R.S. She was absolutely certain that he had, with someone’s assistance, tapped her business telephone and murdered Wilhelm Lentz to obtain the information he needed: the exact amount of her secret Swiss bank account and the name of the bank holding it. She was still plagued by the frustration of having no way of proving it. The arrogance of his approach still infuriated her.
Her deliberations continued. She thought of Peter Tavaris, the man who so ruthlessly orchestrated her removal from the presidency of Iacardi, the man who had nothing but contempt for her, the man who had relentlessly pursued her job, never once giving a sliver of consideration for the Iacardi employees who lost their lives in the Terrorist attacks of September, 2001, or for her efforts to rebuild the nearly decimated company.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on her door. She glanced upward to see the door open about a foot and her father peering through the opening. “Good morning,” he said with a loving smile. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
Mike, still in his pajamas, his hair uncombed, entered and sat on the edge of her bed. “How was yesterday?” he asked.
Kerri displayed an instant smile. “Fantastic.”
“Wow. That good?”
“Even better. Steve’s going to make it, dad. He’s going to make it all the way back. I was confident when he came out of his coma, but now I’m sure of it.”
“You care to tell me why you’re so sure, or am I prying?”
“You’re not prying… Yesterday was very special. Steve proved to me that his memory is completely functional. All he needed was the right stimulation.”
“That’s great news, but maybe you can be a little more specific. Come on, you can tell your dad.”
“I spoke to his therapist the day before the trip. I told her where we were going and asked her about exposing Steve to certain places. I tried the best I could to give her the history of Steve’s connection to each place. The first was the cottage he was building on Lake Joseph, until his marriage to Christine got in the way. She agreed, so I took him there first. It didn’t take long for him to show me that it was a bad idea. It was obvious that he associated the place with an unpleasant experience. I could see that he was struggling to process the details. Everything he looked at caused him pain. It was palpable. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t have to say a thing.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Only that he wanted to leave. So we did. The next place on my list was The Health Club. Unfortunately, we passed his accident scene on the way. I could have taken a different route, but I wanted to see if he remembered it. He reacted as soon as he saw it. His expression, his eyes, his hand movements, all of them proved to me that he remembered it. I just don’t know how well… I felt so sorry for him, and I felt like a shit for taking him there. Neither of us said anything after we passed it, so I just kept driving until we got to The Health Club. We walked down to the dock and spent a few minutes taking in the view… He was different there. He seemed serene, almost content. I waited a little longer, then I asked him if that place was familiar to him.” Kerri paused and smiled. “That was a defining moment. He smiled his perfect smile and told me it was the place where he met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”
“Don’t stop there. What happened next?” Mike prodded.
Kerri’s expression transformed into a full blush. “We kissed… No. We really kissed. He showed me he remembered how to do that.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mike said, delighted to see happiness in his daughter’s expression for the first time since September of the previous year. “Was the kiss a knee-jerk reaction, or something more?”
“Definitely more. I wasn’t sure what it was until…” Again she paused, struggling to decide how to explain the next series of events to her father.
“Until what?”
“I decided to take him to his house in Port Carling, but before we got there, he saw the post office. You know where it is, just before McMullen Drive. He asked me to stop so he could pick up his mail. I was amazed. He knew which key to use and exactly where his box was. The size of the stack he carried out of there made it obvious that it had accumulated since before his accident. When we got out of the car in front of his house he pulled a letter out of his stack and handed it to me. It blew me away. It was addressed to me in New York and written by him, the day of his accident. It was returned to him because I deliberately didn’t leave a forwarding address when I left New York… He wanted me to read it to him.” Kerri beamed, displaying the expression of a child on Christmas morning. “Dad, until that moment, I thought our kiss on The Health Club dock was the defining moment of the day, but it was nowhere close. Reading that letter to him was like opening a dam. I’ll tell you why in a minute, but first let me read it to you.” She lifted the letter from the surface of her night table and read it to her father.
“Wow!” Mike said, impressed by the text. “That was well written. Obviously he cared a lot for you. How did he respond?”
“I’ll probably never know exactly how my reading that letter affected him, but it was like a light switch had suddenly been turned on. The transformation was incredible. He remembered everything about that day in his life, in specific detail.” She s
miled and blushed again. “I could tell you a lot more about his response, but it’s X-rated.”
“I’ll assume Steve remembered how to do that, too.” He wrapped his arms around his daughter and hugged her. “I’m so happy for both of you. It’s been too long since either of you have had any good news.”
“I’m in love with him, dad.”
Mike chuckled. “You didn’t have to tell me. I could see it in your eyes,” he said, then stood. “Karen and I are going to the Pickle Barrel for breakfast in an hour. We would be honored if the Iacardi Santa Claus chose to join us?”
She laughed and nodded.
CHAPTER 66
Slightly over an hour later, Karen, Mike and Kerri sat at a table for four at The Pickle Barrel, a modern and popular eatery at the corner of Eglinton and Yonge Streets. Kerri wore her grey track suit, running shoes, heavy sunglasses, and Blue Jays baseball cap, the ensemble chosen to ensure that nobody recognized her. She cherished the anonymity Toronto offered and wanted to keep it that way. All three ordered orange juice for starters and the French toast special with generous side orders of strawberries and blueberries.
Karen reached for Kerri’s hand. “Mike told me the whole story. I’m happy for you and Steve.”
“Thanks for saying that, Karen. So am I. Steve’s a very special person. I’m grateful to have a chance to share part of his life.”
“What are your plans for the future? Are you going to take the job at Enerco?” she asked.
“I don’t think so, but I’m glad you asked. There’s something about Enerco that I want to discuss with both you and dad.” She removed her Blackberry from her track suit pocket and took the time to play her phone message from Sandra Schafer. Karen gave Mike an apprehensive glance as they listened to Schafer’s message.