Luke's Quest 01 - Prisoner Of Time (v5.0), page 11
Chapter 7
Monday was the traditional Memorial Day holiday, and the attitude was very festive in Mountain View. I toured as many places as I could. It was at the car show that I saw Jeff and Betty again. Jeff was admiring a 1927 Chrysler and trying to explain to Betty how rare the car was. Cars bored her. Betty wanted to head over to a craft show. The woman who had taught her to make rugs had a booth there, but Jeff wanted to spend more time with the cars. I offered Betty a ride to the craft show, if Jeff would promise to pick her up there. Both approved of the idea.
Betty was bubbling, discussing three or four things at once as we drove. “I just love crafts. It gives me something to do when Jeff leaves me alone for days at a time.”
“You mean when he’s traveling for research?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I busy myself with crafts, so I don’t miss him or become bored.”
The craft show was interesting to me and reminded me of our ladies in Blissville. Each has a craft she enjoys and can sell a few creations throughout the year. Darlene sells a few items to tourists at her diner, as does Ellen in her flea market and auction.
We walked for quite a while before we found the booth with the woman making rugs. Betty sat down and began to make a rug, as well. It amazed me how skilled she was. The woman explained the history of the rugs and this style of rug making. I found it quite interesting.
"These are sometimes called toothbrush rugs," Betty explained. "The needles can be made from old toothbrush handles. Our pioneer mothers used antlers, bones or just plain wood to make the needles. The early houses had dirt floors, so they made rugs from clothing scraps to warm the floor and make it softer."
Betty's cell phone interrupted the rug-making explanation. She took the call, then turned to me. "Luke, Jeff said to tell you he’s on his way over here. You don't have to stay if you need to be somewhere else."
"OK," I said. "Tell him I’ll see him later."
I turned to walk away when she called out. "He also said to tell you Paul is looking for you. If you're heading home, he will see you there."
"Tell him I’ll be home soon," I answered as I waved and walked away.
Paul was standing in the open door to his apartment holding a beer as I pulled my car into my parking place.
"It took you long enough," he called to me. "Come on in," he offered.
I joined him but declined the beer. "Water will be fine. My blood sugar was really wacky after drinking beer at the party the other night," I explained.
We sat just visiting for a while. He was back to the Paul I had visualized based on the journal and gotten to know Saturday morning. It was clear he and Lisa were currently having a strained partnership. They must patch things up between now and the trip to Jacksonport, I thought.
"Doug seems very impressed with you," Paul told me. "You probably guessed that I recommended you and Lisa agreed with my recommendation, as well."
"Thanks ... I think."
I owe you an apology," he began. "Lisa has been really strange since a recent assignment. We aren’t seeing eye-to-eye, and it’s causing some unusual animosity."
"Really," I said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, "it’s none of my business."
"It’s your business," he explained. "I ruined Saturday's lunch for you by storming off. Then I accused you of just being after Lisa for a quick fling. It was the beer talking more than I was. I wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings."
"No hard feelings," I said. "I’m just a visitor passing through."
"It just surprised Doug when Lisa and I both had the same opinion of you when he told us he was going to offer you a job. Lisa and I rarely agree on anything, because she’s so liberal and I’m so conservative. We do need some good researchers to help with background reports, and you seem very skilled. Doug was really impressed when he found the information on your website; he even called that reporter you worked for in England researching Winston Churchill. Doug is a big fan of World War II."
"That was a fun assignment," I acknowledged with pride.
"The photographs of you at Rosslyn Chapel were impressive, as well," he said.
"Funny," I explained, "when I was there, I knew so little about Rosslyn. I had no idea how important it really was in history until later when I found my family genealogy linked to the Sinclair family. I want to go back and visit it again someday, this time to do the visit the right way."
"I understand," Paul said. "I was at Ford's theater one night –" He stopped, realizing he had almost slipped. I suspected he had been about to tell me he was there the night Booth assassinated President Lincoln, but he covered his mistake. "I was there to make a delivery. I dropped off the item I had for them and left. I keep telling myself every time I go back to Washington, I’ll go over there for the tour, but I never do."
We laughed about our shortcomings and hindsight. Paul got another beer, offering me one again.
"Let me run over to my place," I told him, excusing myself. "I’ve some diet soda. I’ll grab one and be right back."
"OK," he told me. "Just leave my door open."
I left it ajar and went to my apartment. I took my time as I was trying to regroup. I didn’t like his questioning me. I returned to Paul's apartment. Outside his door, I could hear him talking on the telephone. "He’s due back in just a second. I’ll suggest it to him. Well, let me work on him, and maybe I can get him to talk to Doug again." There was a pause. "I need to go before he gets back. I’ll call you as soon as he leaves." Paul disconnected his cell phone.
"I’m back," I said tapping on the door to make sure he knew I was entering.
"I just had a call about you," he said. "I understand you turned down the offer. Do you mind telling me why?"
"Really, it’s simple. I enjoy freelancing. I’m not sure I could handle being a team player right now." I wasn’t lying. "I enjoy just consulting with others."
"I have an idea," he said, seeming thoughtful. "I might be able to persuade Doug to hire you as a consultant for one or two assignments, just to see if you like the work. I need some help on the work I have to do in Washington. We could share a hotel room. When we aren’t working, we can do some sightseeing. Besides, if you’re working for us, everything changes."
"What do you mean ‘everything changes?’" I asked feeling a bit apprehensive about his choice of words.
"The Smithsonian, the National Archives and other places," he said making a bit of a flourish with his hand. "When we show our identification badges, they say 'Yes, sir' and are required to do whatever we say. Books and records that the normal researcher could never touch or even see, they are required to present to us. Items and files the government claims do not exist become ours on demand. No agency can refuse us anything."
"Gee, that is powerful," I said, with a genuine feeling of envy, "but I think it’s a bit more than this country boy can handle."
He kept looking at his beer during a long silence.
"I told Doug and Lisa that I couldn’t accept the job offer," I continued. "I hate to tell you the same thing, but currently I have a pressing research problem that is very important to me. I might come begging you to let me have another chance next year." I wanted to tell him more; I even started to tell him about the journal. However, the time didn’t seem right, and I needed additional information. Besides, I still had plenty of time to explore the options. “Look, I know what my head is telling me and I know what my heart are telling me and I just can’t do it.”
"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity," he offered.
"If it is, then I accept the consequences," I told him. "I’m not looking for a job right now."
"What are you looking for?" he asked very pointedly.
"I’ve found that, when I start a research project, it’s best to clear my head," I explained. "I needed some time away from home to get a new perspective."
"You mean you came here to investigate some people?" he asked.
I knew I needed to be careful with my answer, as he clearly suspected me of something. "I actually came here because I knew no one in the area. More importantly, no one in this community knew me. So there is really no one to 'investigate,' as you put it."
Paul nodded his head. It seemed I had convinced him I wasn’t a threat.
"Don't misunderstand," I continued. "I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Lisa and the rest. It made for an interesting vacation. I wish I had met Lisa at a different time other than now."
"What do you mean?" he asked, becoming defensive.
"She told me about her marriage being in bad shape. I’ve never considered a relationship with a married woman or a woman who might go back to her husband," I told him, "if you get my drift."
"I understand," he said with a smile. "Don't worry. Her marriage is over, but there is no way she will ever leave Doug."
"I thought when a marriage was over, you went your separate ways," I said.
"Normally," he explained, "but not when you’re such a major part of the agency as Lisa is. Even if they divorce, she’s required to stay here."
"As I said, I’m just a visitor passing through," I reminded him.
"Hey, if she offers you a roll in the hay, take it," he grinned. "However, it was a mistake for me."
"A mistake? How do you mean?" I asked, very puzzled.
"We were on a research assignment with a group of people, a tribe if you will," he explained. I knew it was the caveman story again. "We watched their courtship and mating rituals. She got turned on. I was excited, too; it was very erotic. Everyone, including us, was naked. She demanded I make it with her right then and there. Well, there were two native broads that I really wanted, but she got demanding. She was afraid if I made a pass at them, she would be fair game for the other men. She didn’t want anything to do with them. So we made it. She was terrible. She has been extremely hateful to me since the trip. It was a mistake for us. We work together, so we never should have done anything. But if you get a chance, go for it." He gave me a big wink.
"I’m getting tired," I told him. "It has been a long weekend."
He agreed, and I headed back to my place. Walking out his door, I was certain I noticed Samuel Polk sitting in a black jeep across the street watching me. Was he the one Paul had been talking to when I entered?
I wondered who was telling me the truth. Neither of them knew about the contents of the journal. Paul didn’t know of my role as a detective, so he had no reason to lie to me. At least, I wasn’t aware of any reason either had to lie to me. There was no way they could suspect I was checking up on them.
The next several days, Lisa would work some of the day. When she wasn’t at work, she was with me. Together we explored the local flea markets. I found little to buy, but it was enjoyable. We even went to the movie twice to see the same movie both nights. Neither of us had really dated much. We were having fun.
Located between Blanchard Springs Caverns and Mountain View is the Ozark Folk Heritage Center. The first trip I made there, I went alone. The center has several small buildings with staff members recreating the lost folk skills. I watched them make soap and brooms, play music and give a very personal education to all the visitors. There was a man, for instance, who could whittle a pair of pliers from a wooden match. The people were quite friendly. It really felt like a trip back in time. The center had a restaurant featuring home style cooking. They also had live music several times a day.
That night, while cuddling with Lisa on the sofa, I asked her, "Would you travel with me back to the 1890s tomorrow?"
Her face went white. Her eyes grew wide in fear. "What are you talking about?"
"I want to take you to the Ozark Folk Center tomorrow," I said. "We can make a day of it. It’s so enjoyable to watch history come alive."
I noticed she relaxed.
"I had no idea that was what you were talking about," she replied. "I was thinking something totally different."
"What else could I have meant?" I asked, playing innocent to the best of my ability.
"We can spend the day there tomorrow if that is what you want to do," she said with her fake pout, "although I can think of more fun ways to spend the day," she added as she took my hand and placed it on her upper thigh. "Does this help your imagination?"
We laughed and cuddled some more. Eventually, she returned to her husband while I slept alone. The next day she and I walked the grounds of the Folk Center hand in hand. She loved the bluegrass and folk music as much as I did.
"I have a deep secret to tell you," I whispered in her ear.
She smiled and asked, "Really?"
"My one regret from school is that I never learned to read music," revealing to her one of my childhood failures. "I would love to have learned to play the hammer dulcimer. The music it creates is so romantic to me."
"I never thought of it as romantic," she pondered thoughtfully, "but I, too, have always loved it."
A few days later, I was packing my car for the return home. I had gathered all the information I felt I could gather safely at this time. Several times, I was sure that someone was watching me or following me. I knew that if any acts of violence occurred in this part of the state, I had no friends to help me.
Lisa called me on my cell phone. "Doug just left for a few days in Las Vegas. I’m alone at this cabin. Would you enjoy a swim and maybe some supper this evening?" she inquired.
I told her I would be there as soon as I finished what I was doing. I worked to pack the car as fast as I could. When I arrived at the cabin, she was lying on the deck near the pool. She waved to me. As she waved, I realized she was sunbathing in the nude. She was playing a CD of dulcimer music.
"Well," she ordered with that special smile, "take off your clothes and join me."
I had skinny dipped at Emmett Creek as a teenager, but it was just with Willie and some of the other guys. I had never sunbathed with an attractive, naked female or any naked female for that matter. I had only read in magazines about this activity. I undressed and joined her. We talked for a little while about nothing in particular. We just chatted like old friends. Eventually, she decided it was time to swim, and I followed her into the pool. She had swum underwater a few feet. As she rose, her back was toward me. She flipped her hair back to shake out some of the water. I watched. Every move this woman made was so very sexy.
"Are you still afraid of me?" she asked.
"I don't understand what you mean," I told her.
"I’ve tried to offer you my body several times, but you have rejected me each time. I doubt that you’re gay." Again she was using that fake pout of hers.
I held her in a tight embrace and began to kiss her – slowly at first, light kisses then moving to passionate ones. I wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t have any experience with a woman who exuded this much passion, and yet sharing my deepest emotions with Lisa seemed so perfect and natural. We seemed destined to be in each other’s arms. My love for her had grown so deeply that I could no longer imagine my life without her. I had feared if I did have sex with her, it would be a one-night stand. I knew now, this was a lifetime commitment.
The next day I returned to Blissville. I told Lisa I had to review some research back home. I also told her I would love to have her come to my home for a visit. The drive home was the saddest and loneliest time I could remember in my life.
Chapter 8
It was Thursday, June 9, when I returned to Blissville. I unpacked the car and started the laundry. I called Willie, with whom I had kept in touch by cell phone almost every day I was out of town. We agreed to meet for lunch at Darlene's Diner.
I stopped at the post office on the way, expecting the usual stack of mail to be waiting for me, but there was nothing to worry about. Bills, past-due notices and cut-off alerts were all history. The bank now automatically paid all my regular utility bills each month. Not much was in my mailbox but receipts. It was a pleasant change.
Not much had changed in Blissville, it seemed. Life here moves at a slow crawl. As Willie and Darlene updated me during lunch about the local happenings, I learned that I had missed nothing major.
I told Willie and Darlene some about my trip. They both suspected I had met someone I cared for, but I wasn’t ready to tell them about her. They knew she must be special. I explained I intended to go back to Mountain View in a few days. I invited Willie to come with me. I told him we could see if Christina still gave tours at Blanchard Springs Caverns.
He thought about it for a few minutes, but then decided it was safer not to return. I know he wanted to ask me questions, but he wouldn’t ask in public. Bill Abernathy came into the diner for lunch as Willie and I were about to leave. I told Willie I would meet him at the truck in a few minutes. I sat down with Bill after Darlene took his order.
"Bill, I need your help," I said in a hushed voice.
He looked at me. "Sure. You know I’d give you my right arm."
I smiled. "I need to learn about a certain part of the one-world government," I told him, "but it has to be our secret."
He nodded. "I understand," he said smiling. "What about tonight? Thursday’s Mrs. Abernathy has choir practice. We could have the house to ourselves."
"I’ll be there about 6:30," I told him.
Willie was waiting for me in his truck when I got outside.
"Get in," he said, almost ordering me. I climbed into the cab of his truck. "I thought we could go out to Emmett Creek. I’ve got cold beer in the cooler." Without waiting for a reply Willie drove on.
Emmett Creek is a place outside of town. As boys we often walked or rode our bicycles to this spot. When we became teenagers, we drove out here. Beer drinking in public is illegal in town, so this was the place to go. Even underage boys could normally find an older male to buy some beer for them. It’s also a swimming hole. Sometimes, if the fish are actually biting, it’s a fishing hole, as well.
