CHAPTER EIGHT
CHANGES
Mac awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and liberated. She felt released from the pressure of the job and didn’t think of her position as being the core of her existence anymore. She didn’t know why she felt that way but was happy she did.
Instead of rushing to get dressed and throwing on anything that was handy, she made deliberate clothing choices and selected comfortable, loose fitting apparel.
Instead of gobbling her coffee and toast down and racing to check voice mail, she took her time and savored the tastes. She even took extra time to scramble some large brown eggs and ate them slowly.
After breakfast, she went to her mother’s wooden porch swing with a cup of coffee and soaked in the morning view. The swing chains were rusting and creaked every time she moved it. The wooden slats were weather beaten and desperately needed some sanding and fresh paint.
The morning wind was tossing her hair around but it didn’t seem to bother two seagulls circling in the sunrise. Mac smiled and said, “You guys wait just a minute and I’ll be right back with a bonus.”
She went to her refrigerator and removed a pound of bacon from the crisper. She got a steak knife and sliced the bacon strips in half. Then she went back outside and walked to the beach. She peeled a couple of strips off of the cardboard backing and said, “These are for you,” and she tossed them to the gull on her left. “And these are for you,” and tossed them to the gull on her right. She repeated the process until all of the bacon was gone. The gulls only missed catching a couple of strips. When she was done, she returned to the swing and the gulls landed on her beach to collect all the morsels they missed.
Mac used her legs to push herself back and forth with a slow cadence. She held her coffee cup in both hands and enjoyed the gulls’ activities as she did.
When the cup was empty, she went back inside, got a refill and her notebook. She sat at her kitchen table, picked up her cell phone and concluded it was finally time to check voice mail and get it out of the way.
She had her cell phone and was prepared to enter the dark and sometimes menacing voice mail cave. In the past, it was always a nerve racking venture because she never knew exactly what to expect.
After entering her password, she was delighted to have a mere twenty messages to respond to. One Manager called to let Mac know she would be late opening her store Wednesday morning because someone stole her car from her driveway.
Another manager wanted to know if the company would buy funeral flowers for the stepmother of her former boyfriend.
Then Mac got to the last message. It was from her boss, Danny Fisher. He said he would be arriving tomorrow morning and wanted Mac to meet him at the airport. He provided the flight and arrival information but said nothing else.
“That can’t be good,” said Mac. She thought for a few minutes and drew upon years of experience. Her only conclusion was that she was about to be fired. Based on the content and tone of the call, it was the only possible answer. There wasn’t any point in calling Danny to confirm her suspicions. If it was good news, he would have passed it along in the voice mail. All she could do was wait.
Mac sat at the table and contemplated the impact of her impending termination. The reason for termination wouldn’t be important, how she reacted to it would be.
The cell phone chimed while she was in mid-thought. “Hello.”
“Hey, Mac, it’s Donna. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Pretty good, how about yourself?”
“Not too bad. Marcia and I just finished eating at the diner and we’re about to catch a couple of hours sleep.”
“How’s the food there?” asked Mac.
“It’s cooked well, the service is good and the prices are right.”
“I’m sure there’s more to this call than a cuisine report.”
“First of all, I’d like you to know that this conversation is being recorded. Do you have any objections, Mac?”
“Of course not.”
Donna stated the time, date, city, etc., and had Mac confirm her identity. Then she proceeded. “New information has surfaced as a result of our ongoing Atlanta investigation. Upon review of that information, we feel it’s necessary to reevaluate our surveillance schedule. As such, we need your authorization to extend our surveillance monitoring to a twenty-four hour watch. Marcia and I will maintain alternating shifts, each being four hours long. We would like to begin our new schedule at noon today and continue it until resolution of the case. Do we have your okay to begin the new schedule?”
Why is it when you wake up and feel great, something has to always come along and screw it up? thought Mac as she saw more dollars being sucked out of her retirement account.
“You have my permission to expand your surveillance to a twenty-four hour schedule.”
Donna turned off the tape recorder and said, “Don’t worry, Mac. It will all turn out okay.”
“Thanks, Donna. Do you need anything else from me?”
“Not right now, Mac. Marcia will be there at noon. Have a good day.”
“You too,” replied Mac as she hung up.
The familiar cha-ching. Once again, the dollars went sailing out the window like in a cartoon she saw as a child.
Mac checked her day planner and noted the rest of the day was free from any obligations so she decided to clean the attic. It wasn’t really an attic in the strictest sense of the word. The space above the house was a mere four feet tall and only stretched for about one-third of the house and every square inch was used.
Mac’s mother and father hated to throw anything away. Consequently any old item they no longer used ended up in the attic, regardless of the condition. Her dad had a box with old screws, nuts and bolts. He mainly focused on tools and mechanical parts. Her mother focused on anything. She had at least five old lampshades that she bought on sale and never used once.
Neither of them could pass up a bargain, whether they had a need for it or not. They would always say they were purchasing something as a future gift for someone, etc., and buy it. Then they would store it away, forget about it and buy something completely different when the significant event came up.
One time her father stopped at a yard sale and bought a tool but he had no idea what it was or what it was used for. He bought it because it looked “neat”.
When Mac had to clean their Indiana house out after her parents died, it took three people almost six weeks to sort everything out. The majority went to local charities and the rest to cousins and other relatives.
Mac went to the hall closet and dragged out a six-foot, wooden ladder and propped it open under the attic entrance. She was on the third step and her head started pounding again. Undaunted by the pain, she forged ahead with her cleaning project. She shifted boxes around so she would have a place to sit. She felt that if she could just sit for awhile, the throbbing wouldn’t be so intense. She was wrong. The pounding only got pro-gressively worse.
She lifted a couple of boxes and struggled back down the stairs. She let the boxes drop in the hallway and walked slowly to the kitchen, rubbing her forehead all the way. Her back was aching and her legs felt like she just ran the mile in world record time.
She rummaged through the cabinets until she found the new bottle of generic headache pills and took three of them. Mac sat on a kitchen chair with her head in her hands and waited for them to take effect. She waited ten minutes, then fifteen minutes and by thirty minutes, they still had no effect on the pain. She took three more and after another fifteen minutes, they finally had taken the edge off. She still had a tremendous pounding but it wasn’t as debilitating.
After an hour, the headache was still in control so she took another two pills and retreated to the couch. The headache was at least ten times more painful than the ones she was getting in Atlanta. When she got them there, stress was her culprit, at least that’s what she attributed them to.
A fellow district manager, Amy Jo Tanner, used t
o get severe migraine headaches. She had to take prescription medication and sit in a pitch black room for hours before they would go away. Mac hoped she wasn’t in line for that future.
Mac napped for a couple of hours and the headache disappeared. She needed something stronger. Taking all of those pills couldn’t be good for her kidneys or stomach. She definitely needed something stronger.
She went to her cell phone, scrolled down to Doc Belcher and called his office.
“Hello, this is Mackenzie Mason. I’m a patient of Doctor Belcher’s and I was wondering if there was any way he could prescribe some medication for headaches without me coming in.”
“Hold on a minute, Ms. Mason, while I check with the doctor.”
The typical elevator music replaced the receptionist’s voice for what seemed like an eternity. The music stopped and a husky female voice said, “Ms. Mason?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Doctor Belcher has an opening at two-thirty today. He’d like you to come in again before he prescribes anything.”
Mac sighed and said, “All right. I’ll be there. Thank you.”
She returned to her attic adventure and felt sufficiently good enough to resume the box exodus. Mac opened each box and checked the contents before bringing them down and stacked them according to classification.
She finished about half of the attic and decided to take a break and grab some lunch.
Mac made a sandwich with sliced ham, plenty of sliced tomatoes, pickles, lettuce and mayonnaise. She had a glass of fresh ice tea to wash it down. When she was done, her brain begged for more but her stomach screamed for mercy.
After lunch she hauled six medium sized cardboard boxes of books out to her rental car so she could drop them off at the library. Kelli Vance, the librarian, was always excited to receive any contribution.
Kelli wasn’t your typical image of a librarian. She was an incredibly beautiful woman in her fifties with two grown daughters. One of her daughters was in her third year of medical school and the other daughter was a pilot in the United States Navy.
When Kelli was in high school and college, she won numerous beauty and talent pageants. After college, she married a real estate broker, became an accomplished scuba diver and authored a cookbook. Kelli’s husband was incredibly successful and she never needed to work to earn supplemental income. Staying at home all the time quickly got old and boring. She needed to find something to occupy her time without interfering with her family schedule.
Mac loaded the last box of books in her car and walked over to the surveillance van.
She tapped on the side door and when Marcia opened it she said, “Hi, Marcia. I’m going to drop these books off at the library and then go see Doctor Belcher. Are you planning on following me?”
“That won’t be necessary, Mac. I’ve already installed a global tracking device on your car and I have a two-way voice activated microphone for you to wear. We’re issuing the microphone and tracking your car as a precaution. If you have an attacker, nine times out of ten they won’t bother you unless they already know where you’re going. It’s too easy for them to lose you and too easy to be seen by witnesses. That’s why most attacks occur in and around your home or business. They learn your patterns and then pick the time and place which is best for them. We feel that if there is to be an assault on you, it will occur in or around your cottage or the Cuda Shack. An assailant could easily set-up an ambush and lay in waiting because he knows you will eventually go to both places.”
“Makes sense,” said Mac. She looked in the back of the van and saw an impressive array of electronic equipment. Marcia was sitting on a little, fold down chair that was attached to a wall of the van. There was a small table in front of her with a closed crossword puzzle book and pencil in between some pages to mark her spot.
“I guess you can get pretty bored sitting out here all day. It seems like a great way to catch up on your reading.”
“We never read while we’re on surveillance. We’ll work crossword puzzles because they help pass the time and don’t demand constant focus like a book does.”
“How did you happen to get into the business, Marcia?”
“When I graduated from high school, I wasn’t ready to go to college yet because I wasn’t sure what career path I wanted to take. I decided to experiment with different jobs and see which one I felt most comfortable with and most happy with. I held a couple of part-time jobs while I was a senior in high school but working at the mall just wasn’t appealing to me. I felt too restricted.” Marcia removed a headset from around her neck and stepped from the van.
“I moved out of my parent’s house, rented an apartment and took a night course on real estate, while I worked full-time at a pet store. I love animals, so I thought how ideal. I can work with animals and get paid too. Without a college degree, however, I found my promotions within the company would be extremely limited and I certainly didn’t want to live on the pay I was making for the rest of my life. I finished the real estate course, got my realtor’s license and tried selling real estate at night. I’d been showing houses for four months and only had one sale. Then one night, I was showing a vacant house to a guy and he tried to rape and rob me. He had a bogus driver’s license and had been hitting realtor’s all along the eastern seaboard. He used female realtors as his own personal ATM and sex machine.” Marcia looked angrily out over the ocean as she remembered that night.
“When we went into the bathroom, I let him enter while I stood in the hall. He had a cell phone in his pocket and said it was vibrating and that he had to take the call. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled the cell phone out. When he did, his car keys came out with it and fell to the floor. When I bent down to pick them up, he grabbed my hair, yanked me into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. He started punching on me and trying to pull my clothes off. He had my slacks and underwear down to my ankles and was trying to cut them off with a hunting knife, when the police intervened. He had punched me so hard and so many times, I only vaguely knew what was going on.”
“You were damn lucky. How did the police happen by?”
“The house had a silent alarm that I forgot to disable. The police normally don’t respond too quickly when an ordinary alarm goes off because there are so many accidental reasons why it can happen. If they responded to all the false alarms, they’d never be anywhere else. I was lucky enough to be in a house with a motion detector that was being sold by a well connected city official.”
“I think I’d give up selling real estate after that myself,” said Mac.
“I didn’t give up selling real estate. I still have my license and show houses from time to time for extra retirement income. After the attack, I took several self-defense courses and got a permit to carry a weapon. One of the courses was being taught by the man I married. He was a private detective who taught self-defense classes in between cases. We dated for almost two years while I took courses in Police Science. Then we decided it was time to have the state officially recognize our love for each other so we finally got married. That was twelve years ago. We joined with Breson shortly after our honeymoon and have been with them ever since.”
“Do you guys have any children?”
“We both love children but have no desire to have any of our own at this point. We love our work too much and our work often keeps us away from home for extended periods of time. It wouldn’t be fair to the children.”
“Are you married to Robert?” asked Mac.
Marcia smiled and said, “No. I just work with Robert. My husband is working on a child abduction case. A high priced Atlanta attorney divorced his wife because she was into the party scene on a daily basis and had gotten strung-out on drugs. He got custody of their four year-old son and she was prohibited from seeing him. One night after the divorce, she sneaked into the attorney’s house, stabbed him nine times and fled with the boy.”
“He was stabbed nine times and lived?” said Mac in a shocked
voice.
Marcia smiled and nearly laughed. “It’s really not funny but she stabbed him in the feet and lower legs while he was sleeping. She thought the boy was sleeping with his dad and didn’t want to get blood on the boy but he was down the hall in his own room. When she discovered the husband was alone, she ran down the hall screaming the boy’s name. She found him and snatched him. My husband is tracking the wife down now.”
“She stabbed the boy’s father but didn’t want to get blood on the boy? How about the mental side effects from the boy watching his mother stab his father? Good grief!!”
Marcia nodded and finally let out a little chuckle.
“I’ll bet you guys get involved in some pretty interesting cases.”
“Sometimes. Your case is interesting but it also has the potential of being very dangerous. The variety and test of my skills keeps me sharp and constantly interested in my profession. Occasionally we get a real challenging case with little information and ultimately crack it. All of my cases, though, are rewarding to me. We have to be constantly learning new techniques and new equipment. It keeps me sharp and interested in things. One of the fringe benefits is being able to see more of life and enjoy it more.”
“You mean because of the travel?”
“The travel is definitely educational but being a trained observer, I notice more things on a daily basis than the average person. When I’m driving, I have a tendency to look at everything I pass. Most drivers get tunnel vision and barely focus on where they’re going. As a result, they miss a lot of things.”
“When I’m driving, I’m always thinking about what I have to do next or what I didn’t get done.”
“Well, I guess I better get going. Can I get you anything while I’m out and about?”
“No thanks. Let’s test the microphone before you go,” said Marcia as she went back inside the van.
“Go ahead, Mac. Say something in a normal voice and then say something in a whisper.”
They successfully completed the equipment check and Mac walked up the hill behind the cottage to a patch of pavement where you could easily park three cars. They never had a garage, just a place to park your car.
She stuck her arm out of the open driver window and waved to Marcia when she drove up the hill leading to the access road. As she was driving away she looked in her rearview mirror and saw a little girl going into the front door of her cottage. Mac slammed on the brakes and threw the car in reverse. She drove in reverse all the way back down the hill with the skill of a professional stunt driver. She wasn’t even aware she could do it.
She left the engine running, the car door open and bolted to her house. “Marcia!” she shouted. “Marcia…did you see her?”
Marcia heard Mac through the headset and scrambled out of the van. She drew her pistol and followed Mac into the house.
“What do you have, Mac?” said Marcia as she scanned the interior of the house.
“Didn’t you see her?” asked Mac in an excited, panting voice.
“I didn’t see anyone, Mac. Describe what you saw.”
“It was the little girl dressed in yellow. When I first saw her, she was wearing a short sleeve, yellow t-shirt and matching yellow shorts. She was wearing the same outfit again as she entered my house. She gave me the paint set, remember?”
“I recall you telling me about her. There’s no one here now. Let’s check out the rest of the house.”
The two searched but found no one. Mac went back to the open front door and said, “There she is!” said Mac as she pointed to the tall pampas grass. Marcia looked where Mac was pointing and saw no one.
Mac ran to the grass with Marcia close behind. “She went in here and she was carrying the same black book bag with yellow daisies on it.”
They beat their way through the grass, going in and out several times. They found nothing. The only visible tracks around were those made by Mac and Marcia.
“I don’t understand. How can she walk through the sand and not leave tracks? How can she walk through this grass without breaking any of the shafts?”
“Sorry, Mac. I didn’t see anything that could leave any tracks.”
“Let’s check the cameras again.”
“Okay, Mac.”
Marcia rewound the exterior surveillance tape to the spot where Mac jumped from her car. There was a hairline distortion in the tape where the little girl was supposed to be but no child’s body.
Then she switched to the interior tape and rewound it to the spot where they entered the house. Once again, there was a hairline distortion in front of the coffee table but no little girl. Marcia was about to stop the tape when she noticed something. “What the…”
She rewound the tape to the hairline distortion and stopped it. “I’ll be damned. Look at that!!” she said as she rewound the tape.
Before she pressed the play button she said, “Mac, I want you to look very closely at this tape.”
Marcia played the tape and said, “Look at the coffee table.” The hairline distortion appeared by the table and then disappeared. “”Did you see that?” asked Marcia.
“The paint set vanished. It left when the hairline distortion left.”
The two looked at each other in disbelief and ran into the house. Sure enough, the paint set was gone. Mac’s eyes drifted over to the jigsaw puzzle. “Oh my, God!” she exclaimed as she crouched down in front of it. She leaned forward on her knees and ran her right hand over the surface of the puzzle. “Oh my, God!”
“What?” asked Marcia.
“The man and the yacht are gone!” said Mac.
“Gone? When we reviewed the tape the other day, we saw you painting the puzzle.”
“I mixed the paints to match the color of the yacht to repair it. I didn’t paint over it.”
“You were exhausted, Mac. It’s possible you painted over it accidentally.”
“No. I know I didn’t paint over it. I took great care in combining the colors to match the boat, not the surrounding beach. Look at the track left in the sand where the yacht was.”
Marcia bent over and looked. She also noticed footprints in the sand leading to the boat. She pointed to the puzzle and said, “Isn’t that where the man was sitting?”
“Yes!” Mac exclaimed. “See what I mean? It looks like the man stood, walked to the boat leaving those tracks and sailed it away.”
“I have to admit, Mac. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You believe me now don’t you?”
“I believe what I see and what I see is certainly questionable at this point.”
Mac thought back and recalled a yacht passing her on the pier. It was out on the ocean right after she repaired the one in the puzzle. Was it possible the two were the same? She remembered saying something about it to Doc Belcher. He confirmed that he saw it. I wonder if he really saw it? she thought. Even if he did, it was just a yacht. It could have been anyone’s yacht. It was the ocean after all and the ocean is full of boats. It didn’t necessarily have to be a ghost yacht. So many questions. Always questions.
“What’s going on here, Marcia?”
“If I knew the answer to that question, I’d more than likely have a different occupation.”
Mac stared at the puzzle and thought about taking it apart but she was also curious where it was all going. It was like reading a book that was intriguing and scary. The scary parts make you have bad dreams so you think about putting it down. The intriguing aspect spurs your curiosity so you also want to find out how it ends. Isn’t real life like that as well?
“Damn, I left my engine running. I’d better be going but I have to tell you, Marcia, this is really spooky.”
“Agreed,” said Marcia with some hidden reservation. She was a professional, trained to look past the slight of hand and see the secret of the trick. She encountered many people who tried to trick her over the years. All of those people had a motive with something to gain. What was Mac’s motive if she was indeed at
tempting to deceive?
The tape did show Mac painting the puzzle but it never showed how much of it she painted. It was possible that Mac painted over the boat. Then again, what about the missing paint box? How could she explain that away? Marcia unknowingly took the doctor’s approach to the unknown and reserved judgment until the test results returned.
Mac turned to the doorway and walked outside with Marcia close behind. She looked at the door as she closed it slowly. She could still see the puzzle clearly in her mind.
“Remember the microphone, Mac. It is voice activated and we will hear everything you say and every normal voice within four feet of you.”
“Okay,” said Mac distantly as she walked the slight incline to her car. When her body resumed a position behind the steering wheel, her mind was still focused on the little girl and the puzzle. She replayed the scene of the girl entering and then leaving the cottage, over and over again. She drove on autopilot and before long, found herself at the library.
She walked inside and was impressed with how well the interior was decorated. The walls were painted with semi gloss white and were adorned with numerous brightly colored paintings. There were several varieties of potted plants throughout the general reading area, adding many different shades of green. It was very brightly lit but didn’t feel sanitary like a hospital. She was surprised to see a detection device standing by the exit. It didn’t fit with the welcoming atmosphere.
She walked to a beige counter that stood approximately four feet tall and had two computers sitting on top. There was one at either end of the counter with a telephone in between. Mac smiled and shook her head slightly. Everywhere she went, there were computers. They were in stores, gas stations, cars and even bedrooms. Too bad she never bought stock in any of the computer companies when they first started.
A woman came from behind Mac and sat on a beige, rolling stool behind the counter. She looked at Mac and said, “Hello. How may I help you today?”
Mac looked at the woman and thought it was Kelli Vance but wasn’t certain. The last time she saw her, Kelli had brown hair, brown eyes and wore subdued shades of makeup. The woman that greeted Mac had red hair, hazel eyes and bright red lipstick. Not the image of Kelli she remembered and not the typical image one conjures up when thinking of a librarian.
Mac looked at the desk easel on the counter with Kelli’s name and title and asked, “Are you Kelli Vance?”
“Yes, I am,” she responded. “How may I help you?”
It was amazing how hair dye, contact lenses and makeup can so totally alter a person’s appearance, thought Mac.
“I’m Mackenzie Mason. You may not remember me but my parents were staunch supporters of the library.”
“You’re Shingo’s friend, right?”
“Yes, he’s a very good friend of mine.”
“Shingo is probably the only regular visitor I have. So many people use the internet for research now. He’s in here all the time.”
“Yes, I know. He told me he loves to read the dictionary because it’s a wonderfully condensed source of knowledge.”
“What brings you to the library today?” asked Kelli.
“I’m here on vacation for a couple of weeks and was cleaning out my parent’s attic. I came across several boxes of books that I thought you may want. Most of them are collected works of known authors but there are a few science and biology books in there as well.”
“I’d love to look through them. Whatever I can’t use here will be donated to either the local schools or one of the county family shelters.”
“Great, I’ll go get them,” said Mac as she turned toward the door.
“You already have them? I’ll give you a hand,” said Kelli.
They lugged all of the boxes inside and stacked them behind Kelli’s stool. “Give me a minute and I’ll write you a donation receipt.”
Kelli removed a form from a file drawer and began filling in the blanks. “It’s M-A-C-K-E-N-Z-I-E?” asked Kelli as she printed the name on the form.
“Yes,” replied Mac.
Kelli laid her pen atop the form and said, “It just hit me. You go by the nickname, Mac, don’t you?”
Mac nodded.
“Are you the ‘Mac’ in the painting?” asked Kelli.
“What painting?” asked Mac in a curious voice.
Kelli rose from her stool and walked to a wall on the north side of the library. She reached over the back of a plush couch and unhooked an oil painting of a girl.
Mac walked over to look at it.
Kelli handed the painting to Mac and pointed to the title inked in at the bottom of the painting. The painting was simply entitled, “Mac”.
It was a very accurate and incredibly detailed oil painting of Mac when she was thirteen. She was wearing a white t-shirt and red shorts. It was the same outfit she wore on the afternoon she and Billy said goodbye for the last time.
The artist captured the sadness in her eyes and used different, dark colors in the surrounding landscape to reflect the sullen mood of the afternoon. He painted the grass a flat dark green and made the sky overcast with dark gray clouds. The sand was painted a flat dark brown and the ocean to her left was dark blue. He had transformed an enclave of warmth and beauty into a cold, desolate chunk of beach.
Mac glanced down and looked to see if the artist signed it. The name, Billy Mullins, was autographed in silver in the lower right corner.
She was moved to the point of tears. A tear rolled down each cheek as she recalled the day they said goodbye. She remembered being in the throws of passion with a boy that had never been equaled. Billy was a sensitive, caring and deep feeling boy that may have moved to a corner but never left her heart. He was her first love and most likely the only male other than her father and Shingo that she ever really loved.
“Billy was quite an accomplished artist. All of the paintings on the north wall were painted by him and donated to the library,” stated Kelli. The city didn’t want to put any new money into us so he pitched in. He had an exhibit here one weekend to help draw attention to our budget crisis. The money he raised selling his paintings was given to us. The ones he didn’t sell are there on the wall.”
Mac continued to stare at the painting and said, “My painting must not have been too popular if it didn’t sell.”
“Strange thing about that painting. It wasn’t at the exhibit and it wasn’t in the group that we hung up after the exhibit. It was just there one day. It’s received quite a bit of attention. Nearly everyone who comes in here admires it. Even young children eventually wander to that painting and just stare at it. You can’t help but feel the emotion flowing from it. ”
“I never knew he could paint. He never told me,” said Mac.
“That’s the first time it’s been off the wall in all the years it’s been hanging there.”
“I’m impressed with his talent. It’s so captivating. It’s hard to look away from it,” said Mac softly.
“Many people say the same thing. There’s another odd thing about that one. It’s the only painting we never have to dust. Our cleaning company has never had to dust that painting. They figure it’s the painting’s location. They think the air conditioning vent is positioned so that it continually blows the dust from it.”
Mac watched as her first tear dropped from her cheek and landed on the canvas. Shortly thereafter, the second tear fell and landed a few inches from the first. Each tear was sucked into the painting, yet the surface was still dry. Mac looked at Kelli and said, “I don’t believe it’s the air conditioning.”
“Whatever the case, it never needs dusting.” Kelli surveyed the library and said, “Feel free to look at the painting as long as you wish. I have some other matters to attend to. If you need anything, give me a whisper!” said Kelli with smile.
Mac did an about-face and sank into the marshmallow like couch. The cushions were at least eight inches thick and had a very festive floral design. She wasn’t sure if she kept stari
ng at the painting because she liked it or because she was supposed to. She had a weird feeling that it was trying to tell her something.
Mac drifted back to her last summer with Billy. What a glorious time in her life. She spent nearly every day during that summer vacation with Billy. They held hands everywhere they went and sneaked kisses at every opportunity. Most of the kisses in public were very quick and consisted of simple pecks on the cheek or slight brushing of the lips. However, the nights on the beach with only the stars watching them were different. They would roll in the sand and kiss with boiling passion. Billy would slowly fondle Mac’s developing breasts with great tenderness and then caress the rest of her chest with a very gentle touch. There were a couple of times she found herself wanting to get completely naked and go all the way but always stopped short. Both of them understood the consequences of casual sex and neither was ready to be a parent. They both displayed remarkable restraint and common sense for people so young.
The first week of that summer, she and Billy went bowling. They bowled nearly twelve games that day and went bowling several times during the course of the summer. She wasn’t a good bowler and neither was Billy but he always ended up beating her. There were several times she was sure he messed up intentionally just to keep the scores close. He never boasted about any of his victories and often looked the other way after Mac screwed up a shot. She remembered the time she rolled five consecutive gutter balls. They both had a good laugh over it but he never teased her about it later. It would have been okay with her if he did. Just about anything Billy did was okay with her.
They spent a lot of time sunning themselves on the beach but very little time in the water because of Billy’s concerns about it.
There was only one incident, in all of the summers they spent together, that could be considered an ink stain on a clean sheet. It too happened during their last summer together.
Billy and Mac stopped at a local food store to get a cold drink on a horribly hot day. They were walking from the refrigerated section with their drinks when Billy saw two boys shoving some candy bars into their fanny packs.
One of the boys turned to Billy and said, “What are you looking at, asshole?”
Billy stopped about two feet from the one that made the comment and looked him in the eyes. The boy was a good six inches taller and outweighed Billy by twenty-five or thirty pounds.
Mac tugged at Billy’s hand and said, “Come on, Billy. Let’s just go!”
Billy obliged her and walked away quietly. When they got to the counter, Billy told the manager what the two boys had done. The boys suspected that Billy would do something so when they saw him talking to the manager and the manager looking at them, they tore out of the store.
The manager chased after them for a short distance and gave up. He returned to the store and called the police.
Mac and Billy paid for their drinks and left with some trepidation. Mac looked at him outside the store and said, “I knew you couldn’t leave without saying something but sometimes I sure wish you could just look the other way.”
“What happens if I look the other way and see the same thing?”
Mac took Billy’s hand and they started walking home. They traveled less than a block and were met by the two boys. The smaller of the two started taunting Mac while the bigger one pushed Billy around. Billy tolerated the abuse for about thirty seconds and lunged at the bigger boy with the first punch.
They were all involved in the fisticuffs at one point or another. Mac did her best but kept getting pushed away. At least they didn’t punch her like they did Billy. The fight finally ended when Billy got knocked down one too many times and didn’t get up again.
Billy got his licks in but he definitely got the worst end of the deal. Both of his lips were split, his nose was bleeding; he had a cut above his right eye and several small cuts on his jaw.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay, Billy?”
Billy sat slowly and said, “I love you more than anything, Mac, but do I look okay to you??”
Mac looked down at the ground and started crying. “I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean it. I’ll be fine.” Billy licked the blood from his lip and said, “I know I said I was thirsty but I would have preferred something cold to drink!”
Mac threw her arms around him and held him tightly. She regained her composure and said, “Let’s go down to the shore. The saltwater will help stop the bleeding and clean the wounds out.”
“Okay,” he replied as Mac helped him to his feet.
As they were walking to the water, Mac said, “I’m proud of the way you defended your honor but was it worth it?”
Billy nodded. “I did what I had to do at the store and with those two jerks. My grandfather used to tell me that if I say nothing and do nothing when I know I should, I’ll end up being nothing.” Billy felt his nose with his fingertips, smiled and said, “Maybe being nothing isn’t so bad!”
Mac smiled, put her arm around Billy’s waist and said, “I love you, Billy Mullins!”
Whenever extra money came their way, either from doing extra chores or simple gifts from the parents, they would go to the amusement park down the highway. If they couldn’t talk their parents into a ride, they could always count on Shingo. His business was flourishing but he always found the time to break away and provide free chauffeur service.
One weekend, they went to the amusement park and after going on a variety of rides, they decided to try to win assorted prizes at some of the booths. Billy watched everyone play the games before he tried. He wanted to see what worked and what didn’t work. There was one game where you tossed a coin and tried to have it land on a saucer. He saw one person after another fail. Each time they pitched their coin, it slid right off the saucer. He finally stepped up, put a little spit on his thumbnail and rubbed a dime in the spit. He took aim at a saucer close to the edge of the table and flicked his thumb. The dime hit the saucer, bounced and landed on a saucer behind it. The owner of the booth handed him a red plastic bracelet that couldn’t have cost as much as his dime investment. Billy looked at the guy, pointed to a large, brown teddy bear and said, “What do I have to do to win that?”
The man pointed to a saucer on top of three boxes and said, “Land a coin on that one.”
Billy smiled, presented the bracelet in cupped hands to Mac and said, “For my queen. A solid ruby bracelet, cut from a single giant stone. Such are the spoils of battle.”
He winked at Mac and said, “Your turn.”
Mac put some spit on her thumbnail, lathered a dime with it and flicked her thumb. The dime flew over the top saucer and landed on a man’s head on the other side of the booth. She tried two more times and finally won another red bracelet.
“For you, Sir Knight. An equal reward for gallantry.”
The two wandered around the park for several hours. They rode all the rides and ate like they hadn’t been fed in days. They always had a great time when they were together, regardless of what they were doing.
When they decided to leave, they called Shingo and waited for him to break away from the Shack. They embraced most of the time they waited. Mac loved the feeling when she rested her head on Billy’s shoulder. They would occasionally pull away from each other just enough to exchange a gentle kiss on the lips.
Shingo arrived at the designated rendezvous, picked them up and smiled as he looked in his rearview mirror and watched them cuddle.
When that summer ended, Billy wrote lengthy, weekly letters to Mac. They chronicled the daily events of his week and proclaimed his undying love for her.
Mac began to feel lightheaded and tore her attention from the painting to the general reading area of the library. It was filling with swirling dull white and gray clouds. The white floor tiles were fading and being replaced with wooden boards. The overhead fluorescent lights retracted to somewhere in the ceiling and were replaced with spotlights and rotating mirrored ball. The walls changed color from white to a dull blue and began movi
ng outward. All of the bookshelves sank slowly into the wooden floor boards and were replaced by couples dancing. Weak background music became louder and the painting in Mac’s hands disappeared. She found herself standing amidst the swirling clouds and people.
The environment looked familiar but she couldn’t quite remember where she saw it. Then it hit her. It was the gymnasium of the local community center. They used to have a weekly summer dance there until it burned down. The cause of the fire was never determined and the insurance money was used elsewhere so it was never rebuilt.
She looked into the crowd of couples and spotted her mother and father dancing cheek to cheek. She smiled when she recalled how they loved to dance. When they were at home, they never missed dance night sponsored by a war veteran’s group.
Then she noticed a young couple dancing. They looked to be teenagers. Their dancing moved them closer to Mac. The girl turned her face and looked in Mac’s direction. Mac’s jaw dropped when she realized it was actually her as a teenager and the boy holding her close was Billy. They moved to a position directly in front of Mac and moved their bodies together but weren’t actually dancing. Neither could dance very well. It was more like a rocking from side to side than dancing.
Mac was close enough to the couple to listen in on their conversation. She heard Billy whispering in her ear. “I could look at you all day, Mac. I love the way your hair feels when I run my fingers through it. I love the feeling of your skin against mine whenever we touch. I love looking into your eyes and feeling the warmth surging from your heart. I guess I just love everything about you, Mac and I will for all of eternity.”
Mac remembered that night. In fact, she dreamed of that night for years afterward. It was the summer farewell dance sponsored by the local businesses. It was always held the week before the majority of the summer vacationers left. The local businesses sponsored it as a way of saying thank you for their patronage.
Mac and Billy danced toward her parents and faded away. Then the rest of the couples faded and were replaced with the bookshelves. The entire process reversed itself until the library was back to normal.
She looked at Kelli pounding away at her computer keyboard and then at the painting she was holding once again.
She turned slowly, returned the painting to its position on the wall and headed for the exit. She waved goodbye to Kelli and went to her car.
She slid the keys in the ignition and leaned back against her car seat. She rubbed her temples with both hands and tried to figure out what she just experienced. It had to be a hallucination, otherwise Kelli would have said something about it. Whatever it was, the experience left her feeling warm inside. She was feeling exactly the way she did the night of the dance.
Kelli came running from the library, waving a piece of paper. Mac smiled when she remembered the receipt for the books. She rolled her window down and waited.
“I almost forgot to give this to you. Thanks again for the donation,” said Kelli as she handed the receipt to Mac through the open window.
“No problem. If I find anymore I’m willing to part with, I’ll let you know.”
Kelli nodded and returned to the library.
Mac started the car and began humming the tune the band played the night of the farewell dance. She didn’t know the name of it and couldn’t remember a single word but the melody echoed in her head all the way to Doctor Belcher’s office. It was the first time she had thought of the tune in years.
Mac checked in at the receptionist desk, sat down and picked out a magazine to read. None of them were very interesting so she selected the least boring one. Patient after patient went in. Most of them seemed to be elderly. She assumed many had been coming to him since they were her age.
Doctor Belcher graduated from medical school more than 30 years ago and completed his internship and residency in the Army. After completing a tour of duty in Vietnam, he returned to civilian life and started his practice in a small suite located in an old shopping center. That was back in the days when insurance companies still referred to him as doctor and not healthcare provider. The people who came to see him were his patients and not “the insured”.
Doctor Belcher donated eight hours a week to indigent people of the community. Not because he felt sorry for them and not because he wanted publicity for being a Good Samaritan. He did it because they needed him. Nothing more. Nothing less.
His last move brought him to the big medical complex he was going to retire in. The same complex Mac was sitting in and trying valiantly to occupy her mind in.
She threw the magazine down and began sorting through the stack for an alternative means to control her boredom, when a nurse called her back to the doctor’s examining room.
The nurse took her blood pressure, pulse, temperature and asked her to step on the scale to be weighed. She scribbled the data on a medical form and told Mac that the doctor would be with her in a few minutes.
Mac sat back on the examining table, cringing as she endured the hard sound of the stiff paper draped over it. She looked around the room and made a useless mental inventory of the contents. She fixed her gaze on a glass jar full of tongue depressors and then fiddled with her faux pearl necklace while she waited for Doc Belcher to arrive.
She turned as she heard the door open and smiled when the doctor finally entered the room.
“Hi, Mac,” he said as he reflexively offered his hand.
She took it into hers and said, “Hi, Doc. I’m back!”
The doctor glanced at the notes in her folder from the previous visit and said, “What’s giving you problems this time?”
“It’s like this. I’ve been paying all this money into my medical insurance and thought you needed some new golf clubs so here I am!”
The doctor forced a weak smile and tried to appreciate the flimsy stab at humor.
Mac leaned forward, clasped her hands and said, “I’m still having the headaches, Doc, and they seem to be progressively worse each time. I’m sleeping more on a daily basis now than I have in the past year or so. I don’t think they’re from fatigue. I’m under a lot of stress but I’m always under a lot of stress.”
Doctor Belcher looked her test results from the other day and said, “Let’s get some tissue samples and x-rays. We’ll get to the bottom of this before you leave today.”
The doctor scrawled something on her chart and said, “A nurse will be by in a minute to give you instructions.” He patted Mac on the shoulder softly and left the room.
“Okay, Doc,” said Mac with some concern.
Mac occupied her time by twiddling her thumbs and thinking about her meeting with Danny the following day. I’ll bet he’ll be wearing that olive suit he just bought.
The nurse arrived with a hospital gown and asked Mac to change into it and go down the hall to room three.
Mac changed and spent the next forty-five minutes being radiated, stuck, probed and poked. A nurse met her back at her initial examining room and told her she could change back into her street clothes.
Mac waited patiently and developed a new understanding of the word eternity.
Doctor Belcher returned and looked unexpectedly grim. “We have the x-rays and test results, Mac. I called the radiologist upstairs and asked him to help me evaluate our findings. I’m afraid it’s not good. We’re in agreement that you have osteitis deformans. It is more commonly referred to as Paget’s disease. What this means is that you have a relatively rare bone disease. It’s not fatal but over time it can become very crippling. Come with me for a minute. I’d like you to meet Doctor Greg Stallings. He’s been a radiologist for over twenty years and has seen everything there is to see.”
Mac felt like she was in an airplane at thirty-thousand feet over the ocean and they just announced that it was out of gas…and no parachutes!
“Mackenzie Mason, meet Doctor Greg Stallings.”
“Hello, Ms. Mason. I’m sorry we have to meet like this.” Doctor Stallings removed an x-ra
y from a huge brown folder and snapped it into fluorescent fixture mounted to the wall. It was an x-ray of Mac’s skull. He took a ball point pen, pointed to a spot and said, “You’ll notice that there are patchy areas of thickening here in the frontal bone and here in the parietal. Very little is known about the cause of this disease and it is rarely found in women but it obviously does occur. It may involve all of your long bones or it may limit itself to a localized area. There is no way to know. The effected bones will bow and become deformed. Deafness may occur if the disease involves the ossicles and ear canal.”
The doctor paused and looked impassively into Mac’s tearing eyes.
Mac wiped at her tears and looked at Doctor Belcher pleadingly. “Is there a cure?”
“There is no known cure, Mac. Treatment with massive doses of calcium have helped somewhat. Other than that, we can prescribe analgesics for any discomfort that may accompany the disease,” said Doctor Belcher compassionately.
“We have presented the worst case scenario here, Ms. Mason. The disease is so unpredictable. It may spread no further than these isolated areas. It could also remain dormant for years to come and then begin to spread to new areas of bone,” said Doctor Stallings with a hint of hope in his voice.
“But if it gets worse, will my head actually get bigger?” she said trying to maintain her composure.
“It’s possible that it will thicken and expand.”
“And is also possible I may be totally crippled some day?”
“Yes, that’s also possible.”
“Was this disease responsible for my headaches?”
“It’s highly probable. Headache is a common symptom.”
“Mac, I know this is very hard news to hear. There is every possibility that the disease will remain isolated,” said Doc Belcher.
“Ms. Mason, medical literature has only documented a handful of severe cases and they were limited to males. There is every reason for a positive approach.”
Mac took a few baby steps toward Doctor Belcher and wrapped her arms around him. The three stood quietly for a few minutes, until Mac backed away.
“I’m better,” she said with a sniffle. Doc Belcher reached over, plucked a tissue from a stainless steel table and handed it to Mac.
“Thanks for coming down, Greg,” said Doc Belcher as he shook Doctor Stallings’ hand.
Doctor Stallings shook Mac’s hand, smiled sincerely at her and then scurried down the hall to the elevator.
“We’ll monitor this very closely, Mac. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
“Thanks, Doc. I won’t end up looking like the Elephant Man, will I?”
The doctor chuckled and said, “My goodness, no!”
“Too bad. If I lose my job tomorrow, I could have made some extra money in the circus!”
The doctor frowned and said, “Did you ever get the tranquilizer prescription filled?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you need some antidepressants to help you through this?”
“I may need them later. Right now I just need some time to absorb everything.”
“I understand. I’ll write you a prescription anyway and if you need it, you’ll have it without having to make another trip here.” The doctor looked into Mac’s eyes and said, “It’s an unpleasant diagnosis, Mac, but it’s not hopeless. There is every reason to believe that you’ll live a normal, productive and fulfilling life.”
“You really think so, Doc, or are you just telling another fish story?”
“Yes, Mac. I really think so.”
Doctor Belcher wrote the prescription for the antidepressant and a couple of other ones to cope with any new headaches and other related pains. He made some final notations in her chart and closed it.
“Here are your prescriptions. I suggest you go ahead and have them filled. That way if you need them, you’ll have them.” He handed her the prescriptions and then handed her a folder containing her chart. “Take as long as you like. Leave whenever you’re ready. Give this to the receptionist on your way out.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“You know to call me anytime, anyplace and anywhere if you need to talk or a shoulder to cry on.”
Mac nodded. One of the things she liked about the doctor was the soothing tonality of his voice. It was always so reassuring and calming. She wondered how she really fit into the doctor’s life. Was she truly someone he liked and respected or was she part of his emotional charity work?
She completed the necessary insurance documentation and left for home. Her drive was on autopilot because she was totally preoccupied by the results of her doctor visit. She didn’t even remember the drive to the pharmacy. It was like she left the medical complex and all of a sudden she was having her prescriptions filled. I hope I don’t turn into an elephant person.
When she arrived at home, thoughts of her illness were exchanged for something entirely new and unexpected. Midway down the hill she saw the little girl in yellow playing fetch with Waldo on the beach. Her initial astonishment quickly yielded to acceptance.
The little girl appeared to be experiencing great joy during her sandy activity. Waldo’s motorized tail indicated that he shared the girl’s feelings. Mac watched with a smile, until the girl noticed her. Mac waved and the little girl ran off. No sense in chasing after her. She wouldn’t find anything. Besides, Mac no longer felt the need to identify her. Depression was flowing in like warm syrup and jamming the gears of happiness.
Mac walked to the surveillance van and knocked on the black side panel door.
Donna slid the door open and said, “Hi, Mac. Did your rental car give you any problems?”
“No problems,” she replied flatly.
“It was all they had available in the price range we were looking for. So, how was your afternoon?”
“I’ve had better days.” She unhooked the microphone and handed it to Donna. “I might be going to the Cuda Shack a little later. Should I wear it up there?”
“Anytime you leave the house from now on, we’ll want you to wear it. If the threat level becomes elevated, we’ll tail you as well.” Donna handed the microphone back to Mac and said, “Why don’t you keep this with you? If you leave, just remember to clip it back on.”
Mac took it back and said, “If I forget to put it on, I’m sure you’ll be close behind to remind me!”
“That’s our job, Mac.”
Mac looked down at the tiny, round button-like eavesdropping device and said somberly, “What if I don’t want to wear this anymore? What if I said I don’t want the surveillance anymore?”
“Well, Mac, you hired us so we’re here at your discretion. Obviously, you can fire us at any time. Quite honestly, I’d be curious as to your motive though.”
“I’m not sure it’s all worth it anymore.”
Donna clasped Mac’s empty hand in a comforting manner and said, “I was with you in the doctor’s office.” Mac followed Donna’s eyes to the microphone. “I’d be feeling pretty low right now as well. I also know that there’s no magical words I can produce to ease your pain. The hurt will subside in time and you’ll come back. Maybe not to where you were, but you’re a strong person. You’re a fighter. I know in my heart that things will work out for you. I don’t know how, I just know they will.”
Donna’s response to Mac’s situation was well-placed and sincere, but ineffective. Mac looked out across the ocean. Donna was right; there were no magical words to be said.
Mac looked back at Donna and said, “Thanks. I’ll sleep on the surveillance thing and let you know sometime tomorrow. I think I’ll take my pills and rest for awhile. I have to be up bright and early to meet with my boss.”
Donna stepped from the van and rendered a caring hug. Mac smiled and went inside, while Donna returned to her equipment inside the van.
Mac doubled clicked on the remote device, shutting the sound and camera off in her bathroom. She riveted her eyes on the reflection of her head and began weeping. She slamm
ed her fists on the countertop and yelled, “This can’t be my destiny! It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve all this crap?”
Mac turned her back to the mirror and looked at the ceiling. “What did I do to You, God? I followed all of Your stinking rules and where did it get me? My boss is probably going to fire me, some jerk wants me as his lover, you want to disfigure and cripple me and some asshole wants me dead for some dumb-ass reason I don’t even know about. I played by Your rules!! You can’t allow all this shit to keep happening to me!!” Tears were gushing like mountain springs running downhill after a tropical rainstorm as she dropped to her knees. She clenched her fists and anchored them to the countertop and her face was pressed against a cabinet door beneath the sink. “It’s not fair. Someone lied to me about the rules! It’s just not fair.” Mac continued to weep until the well was dry and she could cry no more. She turned and sat with her back against the cabinet door. She looked skyward and said, “All right, Mr. God. Tell me what I have to do to get You off my back. You name it and I’ll do it. Maybe if You spent less time picking on people like me, You’d have more time to go after the real scum of the earth and kick a little of their ass for a change. I’ll tell You what…I’ll be Your earthly human consultant and make sure You manage Your time here a little better.”
Mac brought her legs up and put her head between her knees. Without lifting her head she said, “You know I’m sorry, God.” Mac squeezed out a small chuckle. “Of course You know. You’re God after all. I’m hurting inside and I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please!”
“I’ll tell you what, God. I’ll go to church seven days a week and eat more healthy foods. I’ll exercise more; drink less coffee and more water. I’ll do all of that if you’ll give me a break and ease off a little. I don’t want much, God. All I ever wanted was a companion and a child or two to share my life with. Is that really asking so much? I never wanted fame or fortune. My needs are actually quite simple. So what do You think? Do we have a deal?”
Mac stood slowly, like a toy with dying batteries. She was drained, frustrated and directionless. Her only desire was to take her medication and sleep.
Mac shuffled down the hall, past the remaining attic boxes and into the kitchen. She nuked some old coffee and opened her tranquilizer bottle. “If one is good, then two are twice as good.”
Mac swallowed the pills and looked at the Ferguson place through her kitchen window. The position of the sun indicated it was well before her bedtime but she had no desire to be anyplace else.
She skipped her shower and went back to her bedroom. She picked through a drawer and changed into soft pink, cotton pajamas. She bought them on a whim when she was looking for a new coat. She bent over, set the alarm clock and moved to the edge of the bed. Mac dropped on her bed like a heavy, wet rag falling to the floor. She curled-up into a fetal position and dragged a blue and white comforter over her body.
About fifteen minutes later, the silhouette appeared again. This time it was at the foot of her bed. It stood watchfully and whispered, “Oh, Mac. What happened to the smile on your lips, the joy in your eyes and the love in your heart?”
Mac had already fallen asleep and was unaware of the comment.