A Thing Called Fate

                                 

Cassie makes good on a promise

     The way the two-story building sat on the lot, the shed was tucked in the farthest corner, hidden by a tangle of raspberry bushes, and a line of overgrown hedges.  Out of sight, it was shielded from random street traffic, and difficult to see from any of the deli's rear windows.  She shoved the mail sack under  a bush closest to the door, willing herself to remember it on the way out.  The late afternoon sun made the place hotter than a pizza oven, and a bead of sweat trickled from beneath the elastic of the wig.  Running a hand over her forehead, she wiped it away, then swore softly at the streak of dark make-up staining her palm.

     Even with the door shut, she could make out every detail of the Mustang, light filtering in from the round peep hole window near the peaked roof.  She fought the desire to slide into the passenger seat one last time.  To smell the scent of the leather seats mixed with his cologne, and reminisce about things gained and lost.  Cassie shook her head in disgust.  These things were best done without the weight of emotional nonsense.  It wasn't like she hadn't tried to make it work.  Hadn't tried to fix things.  The man was simply a heartless beast, deserving of what ever came his way.  Conscience on hold, she maneuvered her small body between the overhead door and the front of the car, and then slid silently underneath the carriage.

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Maureen finds the keys to Ted's Mustang in the vanity drawer

       It had taken much longer to find the keys than anticipated, and now she would really have to rush to get there and back before Ted arrived home.  She recalculated the time in her head.  It was 4:30, and he was due around 6.  If traffic wasn't too heavy, she would just about make it with time to spare to get the water boiling, and the salad made.  She shoved the keys to the Mustang into her pocket, and made her way down the stairs, careful to avoid letting the Schillers hear her depart.  She was pretty sure Greta Schiller was Ted's private little spy, commissioned to call him if his wife even sneezed funny.

      But the elderly couple was far too busy with the last minute dinner crowd, and she was able to slip sight unseen out the back door.  The humming air conditioning blocked out any noise from the outside, and they never heard the overhead door open or close. Within minutes, the little shed was empty, and Maureen was on her way

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The Faerie Queen watches in frustration, unable to prevent impending doom.

     The Faerie Queen's wings vibrated in frustration, and her tiny jaw hurt from the grinding of her teeth.  The silly girl was heading into trouble.  The hows and whys she did not know.  The bad omen had descended on the place, rising like a silent fog that had refused to heed her command.  She had no power over Fate.  Things were as things would be.  She had tried her best to change the course, moving the desired keys from place to place.  But Fate would not be denied, and the best Maeve could do was follow and observe.

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      She had forced herself to walk at a leisurely pace back to the truck, drawing no attention, the mail bag bouncing on her hip.  There was no activity from the utility truck, and Cassie breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into the seat.  She threw the near empty mailbag on the floor beside and her, and took a minute to let her pulse settle to a normal beat.  It would have been so very rewarding to stick around and watch the results of her work, but common sense prevailed.  She needed to be long gone by the time Teddy took that Mustang for its last drive.
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Fr. Kevin receives bad news in the church basement, while Mrs. Sherman looks on.

        The call came about 5:00 PM.  Fr. Kevin would always remember that exact moment, because of the booming chimes on that ridiculous clock.  The last of the kids had left the church basement, and he and Mrs. Sherman were in the process of rounding up the last of the pizza and empty soda cans.  They had been congratulating themselves on the ongoing growth of the parish youth group, and discussing a possible service project when he caught the final notes of "Happy" blaring from his cell.

       He dug the phone from his pocket, still balancing three slices of pepperoni pizza in the other hand.
"Yes...this is Fr. O'Kenney.  Yes.  She's my sister."  He listened to the voice on the other end, his face losing all color, the paper plate sliding from his hand and dropping to the floor with a wet smack. "Is she all right?"  Mrs. Sherman stopped what she was doing, and looked in alarm at her Pastor's expression, but he offered no explanation.  "Yes...I understand.  I'm on my way.  Do you know if her husband has been notified?"  The voice on the other end explained, but it was as if he could only hear every third word over the pounding of his heart in his throat.  "No...that's understandable.  They've only been married a few weeks."  Kevin nodded along with the voice, and when he hung up, found himself unable to move for a full 60 seconds.

           Mrs. Sherman pelted him with a million questions, but all he could do was wave her off.  Part of his head was praying like mad, going through a litany of every saint he could possibly call on, while the other part was making a mental list of who needed to be called, the first of which would prove to be the most difficult.

          He went through his contact list, and found the number to his private cell.  He surely didn't want to call him on the station phone.  Not with news of this sort.  It rang only once before it was answered, his brother-in-law's deep voice on the other end.  "Ted?  It's Kevin.  There's been an accident.  It's Maureen."


Copyright 2014 Victoria T. Rocus
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