Mirror, Mirror

         An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

Fr. Kevin becomes a hostage

      The man with the bandaged hand eyed the situation, then weighing his options, raised his hands above his head, the blood from his wound running down his arm like branches in a stream. There was the groan and creak of brittle plastic, as the homeless man grunted, and then shifted his view to face the wall, signaling his lack of interference.   Across the room, Kevin could see the woman at the reception window shove down a metal plate, essentially sealing the opening between the staff and its patients.

        The shorter of the two men appeared to realize the turn of events at the same time.  He made a rush for the only door in the waiting area, the one that obviously led to the exam rooms, only to find it solidly locked.  In frustration, he began an all out assault, kicking and pounding at the handle, screaming obscenities at no one in particular.

       "Open this fuckn' door, you hear me?  Let us get what we came for, and no one has to get hurt." Getting no reaction, he moved to the window, and banged on the metal plate with the barrel of the small pistol. "Just slide your Oxi right under this window, and we'll be on our way.  No trouble, ya hear me?"

         A male voice shouted from behind.  "This isn't a pharmacy, Sir.  We don't have any drugs here."

       "You're fuckn' lying, you stupid asshole!  I know you have it.  In a small cabinet at the end of the hall.  I saw it there myself last week.  Don't make me start blowin' off heads to get it."

        It was at that moment the other man, who during this entire tirade had slowly moved himself closer to the exit, made a break for the door.  In seconds, he was gone, leaving the short one to deal on his own, unsure as to what to do next.  For several seconds, he stood staring at the five people scattered around the room, contemplating.  Then he pointed his gun at Kevin.

        "You...Bozo...get your ass over here."

          Before he could reply, Roxanne spoke up.  "He can't. Not on his own.  His foot is broken.  He can't walk."

          "Did I ask you anything, bitch?  You his mommy?"   He thought for a moment, then added, "He can slide over in the chair.   The rest of you...move to the wall over there...by the bum."

        Maureen and Roxie looked at him, hesitant to leave.  Kevin whispered to them both.  "Just do what he says.  I'll be okay.   I promise."

       He waited until the two women and the injured man settled themselves across the room, then using his good leg, steered the chair, scrape by scrape, across the floor to where the gunman was standing.  Each jostle of his broken foot sent a shooting pain from his toes to the top of his head, but all things considered, he figured it was better than a bullet to some vital organ.  The few feet seemed liked the Continental Divide, and as he slid closer inch by inch, he ran through the list of saints, trying to remember which one might be suitable to intercede in a situations concerning crazy men with guns.

____________________________

      Because it was a day that can come to no good, he had just sat down to his desk for lunch when the call came through.  Slices of last night's rare roast beef, nestled between two thick slices of fresh bread from the deli, the last of Maureen's summer tomatoes, and a wedge of the homemade chocolate cake that went uneaten after his little announcement about Roxanne's employment.  It seemed like the only bright spot in a day riddled with annoyance, and as with all things regarding fate, it came as no surprise that he'd be interrupted before he could take a single bite.

      Normally, one of the deputies on duty would be dispatched to the location, and he'd be called only if the events warranted his official presence.  But as was the protocol in hostage situations, the deputy ran the plates on the vehicles in the lot, and when the Schiller's name came up, the Sheriff was contacted because of his known connection to the elderly citizens.  Although he was concerned about the couple, he had no initial reason to worry about his wife.  She had not made any attempt to get behind the wheel of an automobile since the accident, and as far as he could figure, had no reason to be anywhere near a walk in clinic on the seedy side of town.

        When his call to Maureen's cell went to voice mail, he was left to dial the deli's land line, where he was informed by Mrs. Schiller that his wife had taken a few hours off to attend to her injured brother, and added that the lovely new girl and she had asked to borrow their car to take Fr. Kevin to the doctor.
A million thoughts hit his head at the same time, none of them pleasant, and lunch immediately forgotten, he was out the door.

______________________________

      If the whole thing wasn't as serious as it was, Kevin might have thought he was part of some black comedy scene from a Seth MacFarlane movie.  He imagined the crazy, toilet humor dialogue that might spout from his character's lips as he slid across the floor toward the gunman, the chair legs making pig squeal sounds as it raked along the gummy floor.  But this wasn't a movie.  Nothing make-believe about it at all, and the young man in the hoodie was beginning to show signs of serious stress.  Beads of sweat gathered along his lip, and his left leg jiggled incessantly.   The fingers that held the pistol, flexed and strained, and when he finally tired of watching his hostage's slow progress, he yanked the back of the chair and dragged him closer.

       Rapping on the metal plate, he yelled to those on the other side.  "You assholes have 2 minutes to send out those meds, or I'm gonna start putting holes in this guy."  He pounded harder, and added, "I mean it!  I'll do it."

      Across the room, the two women jumped up, and the gunman quickly pointed the gun in their direction.  "Sit down...or you'll be first"   With nothing to be accomplished, they sat down, their eyes wide with fear, but lips set in grim determination.

      Things were spiraling fast.  As each second passed, the young man grew more restless, his hands tugging on the collar of Kevin's shirt.  He worried about the safety of his sister.  Of Roxanne.  And of the two strangers in the room with them.   He said a silent prayer, putting the outcome into God's hands, and then turned and forced the gunman to face at him.  "You know this isn't going to turn out well, don't you?  Look man, we all screw up.  Make bad decisions.  But there's still time to get out of this without hurting anyone."

       "Shut the fuck up, Bozo.  I don't want your damn advice.  I have the gun.  You have nothing but your stupid flapping mouth.  So close it before I blow your head off your shoulders."

        "You don't want to do this.  I know you don't."

       "You don't know anything about me, asshole.  So stop saying you do."

        Fr. Kevin looked up closely at his face, the realization hitting him so hard, his breath caught in his throat.  He knew where he had seen that face before.  The same face that had stared back at him from a grimy mirror in a strange time and place.  The same deep set, haunted eyes.  The familiar arched brows set above them.  It was all together impossible, but the living, breathing facts stared back at him from under the hood of the man's sweat shirt.   The priest shifted in his chair, and tried again.  "You're wrong.  I do know you.  Better than you think.  This isn't what you're meant for."

          The gunman looked at him queerly, confused at the sincerity that laced the hostage's words.
Seeing his hesitancy, Kevin continued his counseling.  "I know you think this is the only way.  But it's not.  You can...can change the course of your destiny."

          All heads whirled toward the door, the sounds of approaching squad cars blaring from the outside.   The two men looked from the exit, to each other. Kevin put his hand on the youth's arm.  "This is your last chance.  Go while you can.   There's probably a window in the rest room.  Best you climb through there."

           The young man looked across the room at the others, then back at Kevin.  He loosened his grip on the collar of the priest's shirts.  Without another word, and without a single shot fired, the punk with a face from a hundred years before disappeared into the men's room.  There was the sound of breaking glass, and then, all was silent.

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved




       

   

Angels of Mercy

         An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

                         

Fr. Kevin uses his injury to distract Roxanne from the humming in the attic

    He filtered his brain for the right words.  For something to say that wouldn't sound like insanity had completely taken over.  But the syllables refused to jump from his mouth, so he did the only thing he could to keep her from heading toward the attic.  He slid both legs off the sofa and attempted to stand on the swollen ankle.  The pain swallowed him up in an instant, and Kevin let out a such a howl of misery, that Roxanne lost any interest in the humming noise above their head.

      "Damn it , Kevin!  I told you I thought something was broken!  Look at it!  It's turning all black and purple.  What in God's name would make you put your full weight on it like that?  Are you crazy?"

        Even if he could have responded, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have agreed.  The beads of sweat on his forehead, and the nausea bubbling up in his stomach were testimony to the level of agony he was in.  He fell back onto the sofa, and Roxanne helped him re-adjust the foot into a better position.  The bump on the back of his head throbbed in unison with the thunderous stabbing in his right leg, and he wondered if he looked as bad as he felt.  By the expression of concern on her face, he guessed his condition was more than obvious, and any excuses for not seeking medical help were probably moot.

         "You can't wait, Kevin.  You need to have a doctor check you out.  You could have a damn concussion, as well as a broken foot.  This is serious shit."   Without waiting for a reply, she pulled a cell phone from her pocket.  "I'm gonna see if I can borrow a car from someone, so I can take you to the ER.  I need your word that you're not gonna try to get off the damn couch while I'm busy on the phone."

          He felt too wretched to argue, and so he just nodded, breathing through his nose, and working at keeping the bile from rising into his throat.  There were no clues as to whom she was talking to, but he could occasionally hear bits and pieces of the conversation, and grimaced at the title of "stubborn ass"  applied to his name.  When she was done with the call, she refreshed the bag of ice on his leg, and insisted he down two Motrin, fussing over him in the the tradition of his younger sister.

           When assured he wouldn't expire on the spot, she informed him of the decisions that had been made without his input.   "Maureen and I both agree you need to have that foot x-rayed immediately, not to mention the fact that you might just have a major concussion.  She's asked to borrow the Schiller's car, and we're both going to take you to the ER."  Before he could express an opinion, she held up her hand.  "Don't argue.  It's already been decided.  I want you to sit here, and not move a damn muscle until I get back.  I'm gonna walk over to the deli and pick up the car and Mo, and then we're going straight to the hospital.  Capisce?"

         He didn't have the strength to argue, and so nodded in agreement.   Satisfied he would comply, she walked out the front door, and in the direction of the deli a block away.  The moment she left the rectory property, the humming above his head quieted to a softer level, and he breathed a sigh of relief amid his discomfort.  The thought of spending the afternoon being poked and prodded, fussed and fanned over by both women made him unhappy, but it was much easier than explaining the watch in the attic, Brian's existence, or how the two were connected, and he allowed himself, an extra sigh.

_______________________

       It was one of those shitty, ornery days.  He had known it the moment he saw his brother-in-law air borne, and sealed the minute he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.  That injury, which of course would be Beckett's fault in the mind of his wife, set in motion one miss step after another.  Kevin's accident was just that...an accident.  And if truth be told, caused by the man's need to best him in front of the lovely Roxanne.  But Maureen wouldn't see it that way.  In her eyes, her brother, Kevin, was one step away from sainthood, and by that fact, could do no wrong.  It annoyed him to no great end the way she refused to accept any flaws in the man, though in all fairness, his beloved usually went out of her way to see the best in most people.  And for that, he needed to be grateful, as her forgiveness extended to his myriad of faults as well.

       Still, it was more than obvious that the priest had caused significant damage to his right foot, and had stubbornly refused any help in getting it looked at.  He had tried to convince him to accept assistance, but had given up in annoyance when his concern was met with outright indifference.  The whole mess had disrupted his morning schedule.  It had caused him to run late, miss his breakfast, and worst of all, it was the catalyst for small disagreement between he and Maureen.  Yet another way her interfering, self-righteous brother had come between them.

      Things at the station hadn't gone any better.  The wi-fi was down for over an hour, delaying an attempt to catch up on the pile of paperwork that seemed to grow daily.  His secretary had called in sick, and it was on those days, when she wasn't around, he realized how much he actually depended on her.  Plus, he was due in court to testify regarding a case that shouldn't have even made it this far, except for the fact that the State's Attorney in charge was a complete fuck-up.

       The last thing he needed was a call from the Powers That Be, and in accordance with the fates, it was exactly what he got.  They were pushing him to accept an assignment, a follow-up to the job he had worked last December.  In the past, he would have jumped at the opportunity.   Been jubilant over the chance to even an old score.  But it was too soon after Maureen's accident.  Too soon after the baby, too soon after their separation, to consider leaving for an indefinite period of time.  There were things that needed to be put in order before considering such a risky assignment, and so he begged off  with a promise that he would be available in a few months.  They had conceded, but he knew they would not take no for an answer a second time, and that thought lay heavy on his mind.

        It was simply the kind of day that brings no good, and if he had been a superstitious man, he would have knocked on his wooden desk, and thrown salt over his left shoulder.

______________________

       After a great deal of discussion in the rectory driveway, it was finally decided that they would bypass the hospital ER.  It was the area's only trauma center, and was always backlogged with a constant stream of waiting patients.   A quick google search revealed an emergency walk-in clinic that boasted X-ray service located on the east side of town, and it became their destination of choice.  That section of Dollyville was considered by its residents to be the "shady" part of town, but the promise of quick attention was a big draw, and they decided to try it despite some initial misgivings.

       Maureen had offered to call Ted, and have him meet them there, but one look at Kevin's face was enough to change her mind.  He was already miserable, and if her husband's presence made things worse for him, then they would go it alone.  They did have Dollyville's newest deputy with them, and the two women felt secure in their ability to weather the situation.

       Maybe if he had felt just a tiny bit better, Fr. Kevin would have been of the mind to talk them out of their decision.  But he was in a great deal of pain, the movement from the sofa and into the car being an experience he hoped never to relive.  So when they announced where it was they were going, he could only grunt between gritted teeth.

        The east side of town was a portrait of the declining economy.   Many of the businesses lining its streets were abandoned and boarded up, their doorways littered with papers and garbage.  The clinic was located on 23rd and Roscoe, the only commercial building of its kind, surrounded by two large apartment buildings, and an auto junk yard across the street.

          It was Kevin who first voiced any concern.  "Ya know...maybe we should just turn around, and head back to the hospital?  This place looks...a little...unsettling."  The words took forever to leave his mouth, pushing them through teeth clenched in pain.

         "Don't be ridiculous, Kev.  It's obvious you're in a tremendous amount of pain.  We're already here.  Let's just get you inside.  It will be fine."

          He looked to Maureen for support, but she had made up her mind as well.  "It will be okay, Kevin.  We have Roxanne.  She's a deputy now."  Before he could interject, she added with perfect confidence, "Besides, you're a priest, the Pastor of Holy Family, for Pete's sake, and I'm the Sheriff's wife.  No one's going to bother us.  They wouldn't dare."

          Fr. Kevin tried to see the logic in her statement, but couldn't find any.  He certainly didn't look like a priest, dressed as he was in gym shorts and a t-shirt.  And how the hell was anyone supposed to know that she was Sheriff Beckett's wife?  It wasn't like she was wearing a big sign on her chest that said as much, even if that fact could derail a crime.  He wanted to argue her statement, but saved his strength for the move from the car to to clinic's waiting room, an experience he knew would be exceedingly unpleasant.

           He and Maureen waited in the car, while Roxanne went in to retrieve a wheel chair.  She returned shortly, and with much maneuvering, they managed to get him into the clinic's waiting room.  The inside of the facility did little to alieve Kevin's fears.  The walls were painted a grimy yellow, faded to a sick gray color in several spots, and covered with stains of mysterious origins.  The molded plastic chairs were bolted to the floor, and in the far corner, a TV blared afternoon soap operas through a smeared screen.  The clinic was empty, except for a homeless man sleeping across three of the seats, and young Latino man holding a bleeding hand wrapped in several soaked towels.

            Roxanne signed him in, the attendant taking the clip board through a closed plexi-glass window, and the three sat together, waiting for his name to be called.  They had been in the clinic for only ten minutes when the mechanical door slid open, and two young men wandered in, hoodies zippered closed despite the warmth of the September afternoon.  Roxanne saw them the same time Kevin did, and stiffened beside him.  The men lingered around the doorway, eyeing the people present in the room, obviously calculating their next move.  Kevin knew better then to look at either of them directly, and wondered if he could reach the cell phone in his pocket without being seen.

           The taller of the two looked over to the shorter man, as if for direction, and while the two focused on each other, Fr. Kevin took the opportunity to glance at their faces.  The short man must have felt his stare, as he turned and met his gaze.  For a second their eyes locked, and Kevin had an overwhelming feeling that he had seen those eyes before, but there wasn't time to ponder the notion.
The man pulled his eyes away, and reached into his pocket.  Brandishing a gun, he announced to all present,  "Hands where I can see 'em.  Nobody has to get hurt."

        And the kind of day that can bring no good, suddenly got a whole lot worse.

             

Trouble at the clinic

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2014
All Rights Reserved





     

Run, Kevin, Run

      An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

                         

Fr. Kevin decides on a morning run

 

    He spent a restless night, alternating between bouts of insomnia, and crazy nightmares centered on a dancing baby with the face of a clock.  By 4:00 AM he gave up, and padded down to the kitchen with no real purpose in mind.  The fluorescent ceiling light turned the bay window into a murky mirror, and the lanky reflection frowned back at him in obvious distress.  Despite being three floors down, Fr. Kevin was sure he could still hear the low humming sound of the wretched thing, and clicked on a small radio in hopes of drowning out the sound.

      There he sat for nearly an hour, nursing a tepid mug of instant coffee, and agonizing over the events of the past year that had wrecked havoc on his life.  He had long gotten over the desire for a larger, more affluent parish in the Boston area.  Dollyville had become home in his mind, and the people of Holy Family his flock and family.  The thought of possibly leaving them some day made him morose, and he pushed it out of his mind, focusing instead on the problems at hand.  When a sliver of light appeared on the eastern horizon, he dropped the empty mug in the sink, and made his way back upstairs to change.

      At a quarter to six, he was dressed and waiting on the steps of the church.  The Sheriff was a creature of habit, and he had run with him enough times to know the routine.  It was Thursday, which meant that at exactly 5:50 AM, Beckett would make his way down the back stairs of the flat above the deli, steer toward the front street, make a sharp right, and trot past the church before rounding the corner and heading east.   He was sure the man saw him the moment he hit the sidewalk, but Beckett being Beckett gave him no indication he was noticed, and so when he ran past Holy Family, Kevin jumped in along side him without a single word.  They ran for nearly four blocks before the Sheriff acknowledged his presence.

        "Didn't expect to see you this morning, O'Kenney.  Have a change of priestly heart, did we?"

        He could hear the sarcasm in the man's voice, just waiting for him to take the bait, but he was up for the game and so ignored it, shrugging his shoulders before answering.  "You were on the mark last night, Sheriff.  If I'm gonna run the Patriot in the Spring, then I need to stick to my training."

         There was a low chuckle, and the man picked up his pace, forcing Kevin to double time his efforts.  As they passed the B and B, Roxie joined them, and if she was surprised to see Kevin, she gave no clue, instead engaging both men in general chit chat and questions about the town.  Eventually, the conversation ended, as each runner saved their breath for the purpose of moving.  Beckett kept the pace, holding a watchful eye on his newest deputy to check her progress. When she seemed winded, he'd slow the pace, letting her catch her rhythm, then would slowly increase the speed as she could handle.  At the five mile mark, he noticed the Sheriff checking his watch, a sure sign that he intended to  push for a late burst of speed in the final minutes.  Not wanting to look like the weakest link, Fr. Kevin gathered his last reserve of adrenaline, and raced forward.  As he ran, he felt himself breaking free, determined to reach the church before the other two.  And he would have, if had not taken a glance backward to see the expressions on the faces of the other two runners.  He then would have seen the small pile of wet grass someone had pushed off the curb, and into the street.  Before he knew what was what, the ground under his feet moved, and he was airborne for what was surely a record of several seconds.  He came down with a thump, his teeth slamming together when his head hit the pavement, his knees and shins slicing across the gravel like cheese on a grater.  For awhile he lay there, looking up at the blue September sky, mentally taking inventory of all the parts that hurt like hell.

              He could hear the other two calling out to him, but there wasn't enough wind in him to answer back.  Soon, both their faces hovered over him, shouting at him for some kind of response, and he took a silly moment of pleasure in the fact that even the oh so cool Beckett seemed a bit rattled.  Roxie kept suggesting they call an ambulance, a reaction Kevin wanted no part of.  There was no way he was explaining to anyone in the ER that he slipped on a pile of wet grass because he wasn't watching where he was going.  Somewhere in that conversation, he'd have to admit to "showing off", and he'd bury himself six feet under before he ever did that.

             They tried to get him to his feet, but it was obvious the swelling ankle wasn't going to make the eight blocks back to the rectory.  Since his injuries didn't appear life threatening, it was decided that Beckett would sprint back to his home, pick up the patrol car, and come back for the other two.  He wanted to entreat the Sheriff not to tell his sister what had happened, but that would have seemed like begging, and there was no way he was going to lower himself to ask a favor, so he ate his words and said nothing.  Roxanne fussed over him, stemming the blood running down his legs with the bandanna off her head, and picking the grass clipping out of his hair.  He assumed she had figured the whole scenario out...the how and why he had fallen in the first place, but gratefully, she didn't mention anything of the sort, instead checking the rest of him for possible injuries.

              He liked the feel of her hands on him, and promptly shoved that thought from his mind.  The pounding in his head increased, in what he believed was divine pay back for letting his thoughts wander in that particular direction.  Beckett returned with the car, and the two of them maneuvered Kevin into he back seat, careful to keep the damaged ankle immobile.  With the Sheriff and Roxanne holding him up on each side, they managed to get him inside the rectory, and onto the parlor sofa.   Both did their best in trying to convince him that a trip to the ER was required, but he refused with ungodly stubbornness.   His brother-in-law gave up, and with a reference about someone being a pig-headed bastard, left him in the care of his new protégé.

             She waited until the patrol car was out of the drive way and heading down the street before she launched into her own tirade.  "You know you're being a complete ass, don't you?  You need to have this ankle looked after, not to mention that gash on your shin."

           "It's nothing.  Just a sprain.  I'll ice it, and it'll be fine by tonight.  Trust me."

             Roxie shifted the leg a quarter inch, and he gasped.  "Fine, huh?  I don't think so, Kev.  If you ask me, you fractured a bone somewhere in this foot.  The sooner you have it x-rayed, the better."

             He shook his head and tried to breath through the throbbing.  "If it doesn't get better, I'll call one of my parish council people, and have them drive me.  They're all retired anyway.  I'm not asking that pompous asshole for anything.  Couldn't stand having to look at that smug, self satisfied expression for the twenty minutes it would take to get to the ER."

            She made a face, and put a throw pillow under the foot.  "At least let me help you get a bag of ice on it.  Do you have any plastic baggies?"

            "First drawer... next to the sink.  There should be a whole, unopened box there."  He heard her rummaging around the kitchen...first the drawer open and close, and then the cabinets and the fridge, and wondered what she was doing.  When she returned, she came out holding a tray with some juice and cookies, as well as the needed bag of ice.

            "I made us a snack.  Hope you don't mind.  I'm needing something with sugar right about now."    She propped the tray on a table, and set the ice on his ankle, watching him grimace when she did so.  "Stupid, Kev.  Really stupid"

           "Don't need a lecture, Rox.  I'll be fine.  Don't want you fussing over me.  It's ...it's just...unseemly"

             She swung back around, and gave him a look that would melt stone.  "Really, Kevin O'Kenney?  You can say that to me?  Me?  After the whole time travel shit?  Everything we went through together.."  She plopped in the chair across from him, and glared.  "I would have thought you'd gotten over that sanctimonious crap."

             It was obvious he hurt her feelings, and so he changed the subject to one he hoped would occupy her thoughts.   "So...you have any idea as to where you want to live here in Dollyville?"

             She saw through his attempt to bring the conversation back to a neutral subject, but let it pass.  "I'm not sure.  Maureen has offered to shop around with me after she finishes her shift today.  She says she has ideas in mind."

             "I'd advise caution then.  My sister's ideas tend to be out there."

              "I disagree.  I love their apartment.  It's so charming and cozy.  Like a little love nest."  She reached for a cookie, and saw the look of horror on his face.  "Not the love nest part, Kev.  The cozy, charming thing.  I adore the peaked ceilings.  The cute little bathroom.  The vintage kitchen fixtures.
It's just...well...so pleasant."

              "You should have seen it before the remodel.  You would have had a totally different opinion.  The bathroom didn't even have walls, for Pete sake!  The place was filthy.  Paint peeling, and drafts from every window."

              "Wow!  Really?  Then I'd have to say your little sister is a miracle worker."

               "Yeah, well...Mo added some nice touches, but the bulk of the work was done for her.  By a so called 'secret admirer', who we all knew was Beckett, despite him refusing to admit it.  They weren't even a couple yet, and he was already interfering in our lives."

                "I think it's sweet.  The way he wanted her to have a nice, safe place to live."

                 Kevin snorted, and succumbed to the call of the cookies.  "Yeah...real sweet.  Two weeks later he was living there himself... on a regular basis.  You're gonna tell me he didn't have that in mind all along?  I'm not that naïve, Rox."

                 "Look, Kev, you have to admit, the man's crazy about her.  No doubt about it.  You can just look at them, and see how much in love they are."  She sighed.  "I think you're sister is one hell of a lucky woman.  Sheriff Beckett is a total catch.  I'm kinda jealous."

                 Her words made him feel lousy, and the reasons why even worse.  When he didn't answer, she dropped the line of conversation, and gathered up the empty glasses and plate.  As she made her way back to the kitchen, she stopped near the staircase, and cocked her head, straining to listen.  He started to speak, only to have her hush him.

                 "Do you hear that?"

                 "Hear what?"  He silently prayed she wasn't talking about the noise from the attic, hoped she couldn't hear it.

                 "That strange noise.  Like humming or buzzing."

                  He mentally crossed his fingers, and lied. " I don't hear anything."

                  She took the first two stairs, and squinted, intent on making out the sound.  "There's definitely something humming upstairs.  I better go check.  Make sure its not something that's gonna start an electrical fire."

                  If he could have gotten off the sofa, he would have physically stopped her.  Gone up there himself to put a stop to her investigation.  But any movement of his ankle sent rays of pain straight through his leg, so he was left with the truth.  "Rox...please.  Don't go up there."

                 She stopped and stared at him, trying to read his expression.  "Why?"

                 "It's best if you don't go up there.  Ever.  I know what's making that noise.  I was hoping you couldn't hear it."

                  Interest piqued, she stepped down, but left a hand on the bannister.  "You're not telling me something, Kevin.  And don't try to lie.  What's upstairs?"

                  He hesitated for a moment, but knew she deserved the truth.  IT'S upstairs.  The watch.  That's what you hear."

                   Initial confusion gave way to understanding, and then shock.  "THE watch?  The time travel watch?  You still have it?  You told me you were going to get rid of it.  Dump it in Nantucket Sound.  Why the hell do you still have the damn thing?  Are you out of your frickn' mind?"

                 He couldn't fully explain without telling her all of it...the warnings from Brian, the power the wretched thing had over him, and now it appeared, over Roxanne as well.  He wanted to tell her everything.  Spill every last bit of the gnawing truth from his belly.  But just how did one go about telling a sane human being that his mentor... this source of knowledge...was a figment of Celtic legend?

             

Fr. Kevin tries to keep Roxanne out of the attic

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2014
All Rights Reserved









                





               



           

           

       









     

 

Temptation in Time

     

An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

Fr. Kevin and Roxanne have words

        It was Roxanne who reacted first, the words finally sinking in, and with a shriek of joy, bolted upward.  "Do you really mean it?  You'll hire me?  For a position in the Sheriff's office?"

         Beckett leaned back in his chair, a self satisfied grin turning up the corners of his mouth.  "Welcome to the force, Deputy.  Though, you do realize that there are some formalities that precede your actually going on active duty.  The state requires both a written and physical fitness test, as well as a complete background check.  Then, your hiring must be approved by the Town Council, though I don't see that as much of a problem.  Until everything's complete, you'll be assigned to desk duty.  Without a fire arm, of course."   He took a sip from his glass, the cuts in the crystal catching the light from the kitchen window, sending rainbow prisms across the face of his brother-in-law.  "I presume you have some experience with fire arms?"
     
           "I do, Sir.  Belonged to a local gun club back in Boston.  We went to the range several times a month."

           "Excellent.  Then I think things should go rather smoothly.  I suggest we set a date for your physical test in the next four to six weeks.  Give you some time to train.  You can schedule the written test with the county office.  In the meantime, why don't you take the rest of the week to settle in, and report on Monday.  Call Melanie at the station.  She'll give you all the information on your paperwork, as well as the name of the company that does our uniforms.

             Her first instinct was to hug him, so thrilled at the opportunity to see a dream realized.  But he was her new boss, Maureen's husband, and well, just more than a bit on the imposing side, so she settled for a proper handshake, and instead bestowed her hugs on her friends.

             "Oh, Rox!  Congratulations!  This is the best news ever!  You here in Dollyville!  It will be like old times...when we were kids.  I've missed having someone to hang out with.  This is just...just awesome!"  She turned to her brother, who as of yet, hadn't said a word.  "Kev...isn't this great for Roxie?"

                 The priest pushed out a weak smile, one that stretched across his face more as a grimace.  "Yeah...great.  Congratulations, Roxanne.  I know how important this is for you."

                She knew from the moment she'd left Boston that he wouldn't be pleased.  The last time they had spoken, it had been decided that for a myriad of reasons too complicated to discuss, the two of them should keep their distance.  At the time, she had heartily agreed with that conclusion. The two of them needed time and space to deal with the odd things that had happened, and the intense feelings they'd invoked.  So she went at it alone in Boston. And it wasn't as if she hadn't tried her damnedest to make it work in the city.  She had used every connection in law enforcement she knew, but the door was virtually shut in her face each and every time.  And there was no way in hell she was going back to dancing.  Her days on the pole were permanently behind her.  No. It was time that she finally got a shot at her dreams, and no one, not even Kevin, was going to keep her from it.

                 Still, his lack of enthusiasm, and obvious disapproval, stung more than she cared to admit.  She hadn't expected him to roll out the red carpet for her.  Throw a party because she was back in town.  But he didn't have to sit there, in the midst of the best thing that had ever happened to her, and act like she had stabbed him in the heart.  If she meant anything to him at all, even as an old friend, the least he could do was be happy for her good fortune.

________________________________________

          The news about the job had come like a brick to the head.  It had been a shock to see her again in Dollyville, in his own sister's flat, so soon after their soul-baring conversation, but never in a million years would he figure she had come with permanency in mind.  She had promised.  They both had.  Now here she was, back with some crazy notion that everything could be "normal" again.  That they could continue to go on despite the fact that they'd been to cosmic hell and back.

         A quick look at Beckett's face, and he realized that he had been set up.  This was pay back for what his brother-in-law perceived as Kevin's intrusion into his private business.  The priest's insistence on the truth had put both his sister and her husband through a miserable separation, and when they finally reconciled, he had breathed a genuine sign of relief that it had, in time, worked out for the better.  But it was clear the Sheriff was not the type to forgive and forget, and in Roxie, the man had found the perfect weapon.

           He wasn't sure how Beckett knew about his feelings for Roxie, or why he took such pleasure in teasing him about them.  From the first day her name was ever mentioned, Beckett had zoned in on the angst she caused him, and used it as a club.  As an arm chair psychologist, he assumed this need to pick on he and his vocation was a result of some deep rooted insecurity, but what that might be was beyond him.  To all visible humanity, Theodore Beckett was a living, breathing embodiment of rugged self confidence.   But it gave him some small pleasure to know that the his sister's husband might have a few chinks in his soul.

          In his need for revenge, the Sheriff had given Roxie her heart's desire, and there was a part of him that was over joyed for her.  However, his use of her as bait to tempt Kevin from his vows both sickened and angered him, not to mention the fear that their combined proximity to that damn watch caused him.  There was never a day that he wished he had not dropped the wretched thing in the ocean like he had planned.  Gotten rid of it once and for all.  But Brian had been adamant that he not do it, citing all kinds of cataclysmic prophecies should the thing fall into the wrong hands.  So it remained hidden in the rectory attic, buried in a non-descript shoebox under a pile of old account books, a constant source of fear and anxiety above his very head.

          The rest of the evening was a blur, conversation he didn't hear, food that tasted like sand in his mouth.  He nodded and smiled when he thought it appropriate, fidgeted in the straight back chair, and tried not to look at the clock above the kitchen sink.  At some point, once dessert was served, he could politely excuse himself to business at the church, and flee to worry and hand wring in the privacy and solitude of the rectory.  But before he could make his standard excuses, Roxanne rose from the table.

         "Well, I hate to be the party pooper, but I think I'm going to call it an evening.  It's been a long day, and I want to be up early for a run.  I have to start thinking about training...thanks to you Sheriff."

         "That's what I like to see...ambition and fortitude.  Perhaps, I should join you."  He turned to Kevin.  "What say you, Fr. O'Kenney?  Up for a run tomorrow morning?  That is, unless you've given up on the idea of running the Patriot in the Spring."

          He wanted to reach across the table, and pop the smug bastard squarely in the nose, but instead rose from the table, and politely pushed his chair into the table.  "I'm afraid I have quite the full schedule tomorrow, Sheriff.  Maybe my sister can join you."

         Beckett laughed.  "I'm afraid my bride likes her morning exercise a little closer to home, so I guess it will be just you and I, Deputy.  Unless, Father Kevin can find some extra time in his... busy schedule."

         Refusing to be baited, Kevin ignored the comment and headed toward the stairs, leaning in to kiss his sister on the cheek.  "Thanks for dinner, Mo.  It was...very nice."

          "I'm gonna get moving too.  Thank you so much, Sheriff, for the opportunity.  You have no idea how much this means to me."  She shook his hand again, and gave Maureen a hug.  "Mo...thanks for everything.  I'll call you tomorrow.  Maybe you can help me find an apartment?"

         "Sure, Rox, I'd be happy to.   By the way, where are you staying now?  Can Ted give you a lift?"

         "No, I can walk.  I'm staying at the Band B on Pleasant and 5th.  It's only about four blocks from here."

         "Okay...if you're sure.  Maybe Kevin can walk you over there."  She handed her brother a bag of leftovers, as was her custom.  "Can you, Kev?"

         There was no escaping the request without looking like a complete asshole, so Fr. Kevin nodded his agreement.  "Sure.  No problem."

         Good-byes and good nights completed, Kevin and Roxanne made their way down the narrow steps, and out into the muggy evening air.  Neither said a word, and Kevin knew if he looked behind him at the windows to his sister's apartment, he was sure to see his brother-in-law watching their departure.  They were a good two blocks away before Roxanne broke the silence.

        "Okay.  I know you're angry.  You might as well get it all out."

        "I'm not angry.  Just disappointed."

         It was the wrong thing to say, and she stopped dead in her tracks.  "Disappointed!?  What...I'm a misbehaving five year old that disobeyed?  You can take your self righteous indignation, and shove it, Kevin.  I don't owe you anything.  This is a wonderful opportunity.  Something I've been dreaming about for years. You could at least be happy for me."

         "I am happy for you, Roxanne.  Honestly, I am.  But you being here in Dollyville, you and I crossing paths all the time...well...we've already been through all this.  You said it yourself.  It's a train wreck waiting to happen.  Painful for us both.  I just don't get why you came back here.  This is a small town...not much happening in the way of law enforcement.  Wouldn't it have been better to stay in Boston?"

          "I tried, Kev.  I really did.  But I couldn't catch a break anywhere.  It's hard enough getting a foot in the door.  The police department in Boston is still an ole' boy's network, despite all their talk about diversity and equal opportunity.  Plus, well...my past as an exotic dancer doesn't make it easy for people to take me seriously.  I'd be languishing on their waiting list for ten years just to get a shot at the Academy.  The chance Sheriff Beckett is giving me is a gift, Kevin.  A fabulous, wonderful gift.  And believe me...I realize he did it just because I'm a friend of the family.  But I'll take it anyway.  It's a start, Kev.  A real start.  He sees that I have what it takes, and is giving me a chance."

          He wanted to tell her the horrible, awful truth.  That Beckett was only using her as a weapon against him.  But he knew it would only hurt her, and put them more at odds.  And in that moment, he heard the man's tirade against "the truth" banging in his head, and guiltily shoved it to the side.  He wouldn't shake her confidence to prove his point.  Sighing, he began to walk, and she followed, continuing her defense.

         "There was nothing for me in Boston, Kev.  That woman...the one I traded places with...she wrought havoc on my life.  Alienated my friends, borrowed money from the wrong people, cost me my job.  She was some piece a work, though in hindsight I feel kinda sorry for her.  I got to come back to my old life, and she got sent back to hers.  I got the better deal."

           They stopped in front of the stately old home that housed the Band B, and she shifted from foot to foot, before blurting out the words.  "I found his grave, you know."

           "Whose grave?"

           "His.  Father Murphy's.  He died.  That day in the bank."  She scrunched up her face, but refused to cry in front of him.  "That could have been you, Kevin.  If things hadn't worked out the way they did.  If that watch hadn't worked in reverse...well...you'd be dead, and I'd be alone in a time that wasn't my own."  She looked away.  "She was pregnant.  12 weeks.  That could've been my life."

________________________________


           He walked for nearly an hour after he left her.  Nowhere in particular, just hoping for exhaustion to set in.  The dark emptiness of the rectory offered no solace, and he tossed and turned in his bed, despite a heavy finger of Jameson.  The revelation about Father Murphy...about the woman in his life...left him him with a heavy heart and a churning mind, and above his head, the watch hummed in its box.

               

The watch in the attic

Copyright 2014 Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved

       

     

     

       

     

         

Hello Dear Readers...

           Yesterday, my mom had a heart attack during what turned out not to be a routine stress test.  She was in the right place when it happened, and underwent emergency angioplasty.  This morning, she is doing well and resting comfortably, and we expect a solid recovery.  Unfortunately, I will not be posting this week.  Just too busy and crazed to concentrate right now.  The story will pick up again next week.  My apologies for leaving you hanging.

        I would like to take this opportunity to remind women everywhere to take their heart health seriously.  My mother had tightness in her chest, constant "indigestion", and unusual fatigue for two weeks before she decided to mention it to her doctor, who sent her for the stress test.  She may have been able to avoid any heart damage at all if she had taken her symptoms seriously when they first appeared.  I had my heart attack at 53 yrs of age with no obvious markers or symptoms until that day, but because I reacted immediately, I am still here to tell you about it.  Ladies and Gents...if you don't feel right...listen to your body and seek immediate medical attention.  Heart Attacks are the LEADING killer of women...heads above cancers of any kind.  Heed your Heart!

Best to you all,

Vicki

 

Indignation and Indigestion

         

An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

The dinner party from hell

       Earlier this morning, accepting the dinner invitation had seemed like a good idea.  This war between he and his brother-in-law had gone on long enough, and trying to avoid the man was taking more energy than he was happy using. For Father Kevin, it was about the little things.  He missed stopping by the deli for coffee and a muffin, missed the weekly Gin Rummy marathons, and missed having someone to run with in the morning.  Without Beckett to hold him to his commitment, he hadn't been out for nearly two weeks, and all the work on his time he had gained, was probably now a thing of the past.

           Patching things up was the right thing to do, no doubt about it.  But that decision had been made at 9:00 AM this morning, when his sister had caught him in a reflective mood after Mass.  Since then, the air conditioning in the church had stopped working, the sink in the rectory kitchen was leaking a river, two of his best catechists had announced they were not returning for fall classes, and the Bishop had called, yet again, about meeting with him for his yearly Pastor evaluation.  Now at 5:30, the last thing he wanted to do was sit across the table from Beckett's smug, smirking face and concede any fault in the whole fiasco.  He was tired, cranky and in need of some kick back time on the sofa.

            Kevin considered calling and canceling, explaining that some parish issues had come up.  He technically wouldn't be lying, as he was still short two religious ed teachers, and hadn't yet gotten back to the Bishop.  It was Maureen's face this morning, still vivid in his head, that forced him on his way.  She'd been so cheerful and optimistic, so upbeat despite all the unhappiness of the past weeks, that disappointing her seemed mean-spirited, and so he found himself strolling down the block toward the  peace pipe dinner that was sure to be a challenge.

          Beckett's patrol car was already parked in front of the building, which he found strangely irritating.  He had wanted a few minutes of time alone with Maureen before he had to start shadow boxing with her husband, but it was obvious the guy had made it home early.  Now he'd be forced into a confrontation the moment he walked through the door.  Looking for any excuse to avoid the unavoidable, he ducked inside the deli on the pretense of saying hello to the Schillers, who would surely keep him busy for a few extra minutes.

___________________________________

           "So you see, Sheriff...it's not like I'm totally green.  I do have had a little experience."

            "I understand that, Roxanne.  Really I do.  But there's a whole set of protocol regarding hiring for county jobs, and the Deputy position is a county job.  And please...here at home, call me Ted."

              Call him Ted?  Was he kidding her?  Being in the same room with the man made her hinky, especially a small space like this.  There was just something about the guy.  The vibes he gave off.  It was a combination of charm and intimidation, all in one package.  A very fine looking package at that. She prided herself on the ability to get a good handle on people, to see behind the false fronts they presented to the world.  It was what was going to make her a damn successful P.I. someday.  But in the case of Maureen's new husband, it was like it was he eyeing her up, trying to read her, rather than the other way around.  When he spoke to you, he stared so intently, you thought he was trying to look as if he possessed xray vision, the idea that he could see right through the bone and flesh, and into what really made you tick.  It was more than a bit unnerving, and she wondered if he used that look on Maureen in their more intimate moments.  She'd have to work up the nerve to ask her.

        That thought made her lips turn up in a smile, and when she looked across the table, she realized that the Sheriff was watching her.  Seeing her smile, he gave her a wink and smiled back, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and which got her to all kinds of blushing.  She wished that Kevin would finally show up, so the focus would be on general conversation and the meal, and not on what was going on in her head.

         Maureen must have thought the same thing, as she paced back and forth across the kitchen area, peering out the side window.   "I can't imagine what's keeping Kevin.  He's usually early.  I'm ready to put dinner on the table...like right now."

          "Hmmm...maybe he's out saving the world?  Feeding the hungry with one multiplying Happy Meal."

          "Geez, Ted...you promised you'd try and be polite.  This fighting between the two of you has to stop already.  I'm tired of you both putting me in the middle."

            From her side of the table, Roxanne worked at keeping her face blank.  Mo had clued her in on the whole awful story before her husband had arrived home.  If nothing else, she was glad to hear that the crazy bitch was in custody, and no longer a threat.  She had been dying to ask her friend what had gone down in the empty warehouse, but Maureen seemed less than inclined to offer details, and so she had dropped that line of questioning.  Maybe Kevin would be more forthcoming.

            As if on her mental cue, the door in the hallway opened, followed by footsteps on the stairs.  Maureen met her brother at the top of the last one, hands on hip.

            "Kev...you're way late.  I told you 5:30, and it's quarter after six.  I was getting nervous you weren't going to come."

             The priest opened his mouth to answer her, but caught sight of the additional guest at the table. "Roxanne?  What are you doing here?"   The skin around his collar turned bright pink, and the expression on his face changed from congenial sheepishness to shock.

             Beckett leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands behind his head, his grin reminiscent of a tiger before he pounces on his weaker prey.  "Hello Fr. Kevin.  I'm so glad you could join us for dinner tonight.  It's high time we bury the hatchet...don't you think?"

_____________________________________

          If the Pope had been sitting at his sister's kitchen table, he couldn't have been more shocked than he was at that moment.  Roxanne?  Here in Dollyville?   A hundred thoughts hit the synapses of his brain all at once.  The time in Boston.  The gold watch, now carefully hidden in the rectory attic.  The raging cholera, and the words he had spoken to her just before they'd traveled back.  The last conversation they had.  The one where they had decided it would be best if they kept their distance.  At least until they both could come to terms with what had happened.

           Now here she was.  Across the table from his grinning brother-in-law, who was watching the two of them as if they were lab rats put through a maze.  He wondered if Beckett knew everything.  Had set this whole thing up as a way to get back at him.   Even as he thought it, he knew it was a ridiculous notion.  There was no way in hell the man had any clue about the whole time travel thing.  His brother-in-law had sensed something was wrong when he had met the drunken host occupying his body here in 2014, but not in a million years could he have figured the truth behind the whole situation.  Time travel.  Switching bodies.  It was the stuff of sci-fi novels and epic movies, not real life.  A man like Beckett would never believe in the unbelievable.  No.  He didn't know the truth.  But he sure as hell was enjoying the discomfort and shock he'd just witnessed.  Somedays, he really disliked his sister's husband.

          Maureen grabbed him by the arm, and led him to the table, a seat between she and Roxanne.
"We can talk more over dinner, as my roast is way past being ready.  Kevin...would you lead us in grace?"

           He mumbled his way through the prayer, pausing and adding extra lines, glad everyone's head was bowed.  He needed a few seconds to compose himself.  To put his head in order.   When the "Amen" was over, Beckett was out of the gate first, firing the initial shot.

            "So Fr. Kevin..."  He stressed the word "Father", drawing it out for effect.  "Have you heard the good news?"   He laughed, and added, "And by good news...I mean the normal people kind...not the Holy Scriptures... of which, of course, you are an expert."

             He refused to be bated, but attempted his own small zinger.  "Why no...Theodore.  I haven't heard the good news.  I would be most appreciative if you could enlighten me...though I do admit we surely have two different definitions of 'good'."

           If he was hoping for some kind of reaction from the Sheriff, who absolutely hated to be called by his entire first name, he was disappointed.  The man gave no indication that he was in the least bit moved.  In fact, his grin seemed to grow by the second, and Kevin began to sweat.  Across the table, his sister narrowed her eyes at the two of them, but said nothing.  It was obvious she was not willing to cross her husband at his own dinner table, a throw back to the traditions of the O'Kenney household and their own father.

             Beckett nodded toward Roxie.  "Do you want to tell him, Roxanne, or shall I?"

             Roxie looked for a second like a deer in the headlights, not wishing to be drawn into taking sides between her old friend, and the man who she hoped would soon be her boss.  She tried not to look at either the Sheriff or the priest, and instead worked frantically at buttering the roll on her plate.  "Uhmmm...it's fine.  You can tell him, Sher...I mean Ted."

             Whatever the news was, it was obvious to Fr. Kevin that he wasn't going to like it.  And if the smile on his brother-in-law's face was any clue, it appeared he wasn't going to like it a lot.  "I would really like for someone to tell me."

              "As you wish, Fr. O'Kenney."  Beckett poured himself another glass of wine, then lifting the glass, he motioned for everyone else to do the same.  "I'd like to propose a toast...to Roxanne Spinelli...the newest member of the Dollyville Sheriff's office.  Congratulations, my dear."


Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2014
All Rights Reserved



           

Achilles Heel

           

An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

Maureen returns to work in the deli

              After their exit through the rectory's front door, no one heard much from the reunited Mr. and Mrs. Beckett for nearly a week.

               Well...that wasn't actually the whole truth.  Downstairs in the deli, the Schillers, and a few wise customers, were treated to a symphony of rhythmic bumping and banging above their heads on a regular basis.  When it happened, Gertie Schiller would look over at her husband and gave him the thumbs up sign.  Oscar would stop what he was doing, glance at the ceiling, and give his wife a wink.  On a few occasions, Ted would show up downstairs, sent to retrieve a sampling of fresh groceries.  Though he lacked any inclination toward conversation, it was generally agreed that he looked exceptionally well, and seemed in remarkably good spirits, and more than a few sighs followed his departure back upstairs to his wife.

          Noticeably absent from the store was Fr. Kevin, who chose to do his shopping a mile away at the brand new Super Saver.  It wasn't clear who decided not to speak to whom, but the distance between the priest and his sister's husband grew to uncomfortable proportions, and placed Maureen in the awkward role of mediator, a job she didn't relish.

         The weeks of summer slipped by in the easy way of sunny skies, and cool breeze evenings.  The day Maureen returned to work was celebrated with free coffee and apple struedel,  though most of the neighborhood just stopped by the deli to show their affection for the Sheriff's pretty wife.  Beckett was cleared for active duty, the investigation into the shooting clarifying that he acted in self defense, the actual details not part of the official file, thanks to the Powers That Be.  Because most of her crimes were class one felonies, the Feds took custody of Cassandra Donaghue as soon as her condition became stable enough to move her.  Those who witnessed her transfer to a federal prison hospital spoke of threats made against the entire town of Dollyville, but they were all written off as the rantings of a crazy woman who would spend the rest of her days behind bars.

__________________________

           Things were good.   Better.  She had managed to wake up two days this week without the accident being the first thing on her mind, Ted's solid form splayed across the bed a constant reminder that they were moving forward.  The first few days had been a blur of nonstop lust, a physical hunger that superceded all the pain, the hurt and the guilt.  But eventually reality set in, and the words fought to be spoken.  And speak they did, despite the monumental job of dragging each and every word from her husband's lips.  He explained about Cassie as best he could, as best as she would let him.  In truth, she didn't want to know about their past, about this crazy intimate bond built on things she didn't want to say out loud.  He had shared his feelings with her in the only way he could, a few words at a time, but mostly through his body, as if she could find the answers there.  And there were a few times he had almost come close to saying the words.

           Maureen shook off the reverie, and turned her attention to the inventory on the shelves.  It was no use obsessing over that one thing.  Her husband cared for her deeply.  Wanted to share his life with her.  Of that she was sure.  The words?  They would come when he was ready.

           She finished with the numbers on the Italian imports, and began to rearrange the jars and bottles into an attractive display.  This range of products had been a popular addition to the store's stock, luring customers away from the higher priced food boutiques in the center of town.  She wondered if the Schillers would be open to a larger selection of gourmet cheeses, and eyed the corner of the store housing a few large pickle barrels.  The bell on the front door tinkled, and she turned around to welcome the new customer, a familiar face, but one that shocked her none the less.         

          "Roxie?"

         Roxanne Spinelli stood in the doorway, her long dark hair drawn up into a pony tail at the back of her head.  There was an air of hesitancy about her, as if she wasn't sure how her arrival would be met.
"Hi, Maureen.  It's good to see you."

        If Roxie was unsure about her welcome, Maureen was not.  She flung herself at the woman and hugged her, squealing with glee.  "It's so good to see you, too.  You can't believe how worried I was!  You left so suddenly, and then I couldn't get a hold of you.  How are you?"

        Relief swept over her, and Roxie hugged her friend back.   "I'm fine.  Really I am.  It's a...a long story.  But that can wait.  How are you?  I'm so sorry to hear about the... accident.  About the baby.  I would have come sooner, but I just found out last week.  Ran into your brother Brendan at Cuppa Joe's.   He told me about everything that's been going on.   Oh Mo...I'm so sorry."

         The emotion of the moment took over, and the women were silent as they clung to each other.  Then Maureen pulled her friend over to a small cafe table.  "Sit here, and let me make you a cup of tea. Jasmine, right?"

          Roxanne nodded, and settled herself in the chair.  "How are you feeling?  It's great that you're back at work already."

        Maureen spoke as she poured the hot water into the cups.  "I needed to get back to a routine.  Ted was adamant that I just relax.  Take it easy.  But I told him getting back to the deli would be the best medicine.  Keeps my mind busy and all."  She placed the cups on the table, along with a few slices of home made pound cake, and took the seat across from Roxie.

      The women fell into a routine that belongs to long time friends, sharing as if they had never been apart.   "Speaking of your husband...how is he?  Brendan had mentioned that the two of you had a rough patch, but that you were back together now.  Things good?"

       A blush crept up around the red head's ears, reminding Roxie of Kevin when he was embarrassed. She squelched the thought immediately.

       "Ted and I are...making it work.  I need him in my life.  I tried not needing him, but it...wasn't good.  I was miserable.  So, we are trying to move forward.  So far, so good."

       "I'm happy for you, Mo.  Can't say I blame you for not wanting to give him up.  He's...well...quite yummy...for lack of a better word."

      The blush appeared again, but she giggled.  "Yeah...he is that."   She reached for a piece a pound cake, happy to be engaged in simple girl talk.  "So...your turn.  What's going on in your life?  What brings you to Dollyville?  When you left town so abruptly, I was worried something awful happened."

        Roxanne tried not to look off in the distance, a true tell that she was about to lie to her good friend.  She couldn't very well tell Maureen the truth...that she and Kevin had time traveled to the past...inhabited someone else's body...and that her counter part had wrecked havoc on her personal and professional life.  She and Kevin had promised to keep the whole crazy event between the two of them, unwilling to open the door to the ridicule and finger pointing that was sure to follow.  Now she was forced to deceive one of her dearest friends.  "Things got complicated back in Boston.  A friend needed me to help her with an abusive boy friend.  It...sorta spiraled out of control.  I'm sorry that I had to leave town so quickly.  And that I had to take some of your clothes.  For my friend.  I can pay you back for them."

         Maureen's face crumpled in worry.  "Oh gosh no...I don't care about the clothes.  What an awful thing.  Is your friend okay?  Does she still need help?  Maybe I can ask Ted to look into it for you.  He seems to know how to handle these things.  Please, how can I help?"

         Her friend's concern making her even more guilty, Roxie tried to keep her voice from raising to a higher pitch.  "Thanks...but it's all settled now.  She's safe.  He's out of the picture.  But unfortunately, all this trouble had an impact on my job at Big Al's.  They let me go, and I've been picking up odd waitress jobs here and there.  That's how I ran into your brother, Brendan.  Working at Cuppa Joe's.  I had to make sure I could cover this last semester of school.  Finish, and get my degree in Criminal Justice.  And I did.  I'm officially a college graduate."

        "Rox, that's great!  Congratulations!  We need to celebrate your good news."

        "Thanks Momo, but what I really need...the reason I'm here...is a job.  I'm never gonna make any headway with the Boston PD.  The waiting list just to test into the program is a two year wait.  I don't want to end up in another waitress position back home.  And I don't want to go back to...to the dancing.    I'm done with that part of my life.  I want to start my career in law enforcement.  And I can't do that in Boston."  She hesitated a moment, laying it all open.  "I was hoping...well...that maybe I could work here in Dollyville.   For your husband, in the Sheriff's office.  I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't know anyone else.  Plus, I really enjoyed my visit here.  This is a wonderful little town.  I have you guys here, and nothing really keeping me in Boston.  I haven't spoken to my brothers in years."

         "Stay here in Dollyville?  Rox, that's a great idea!  We'll have so much fun together.  Like old times!  And of course Ted will help you!  I'll give him a call right now."  She leaned over and gave her friend a hug.  "Oh Roxie, this is the best news ever.  Kevin will be so surprised to see you."

__________________________

           He'd walk to the ends of the Earth and back for that woman.  If he wasn't sure of it before, it was now solidly etched into every fiber of his being.  For once, he was graceful for the opportunities his wealth could offer him.  His Desert Rose would want for nothing.  Ever.

           Her willingness to take him back, to accept him as he was, shook him to his core.  The last few weeks had made even he, an unbeliever of things connected to the heart, optimistic that he could have the normalcy of a marriage, something he had always thought an impossibility.  So when she asked for a favor, a small favor in her eyes, it was difficult to say no.

           "Baby, it's just not that simple.  There are guide lines to the hiring of deputies.  Protocol to follow.  I can't just hire Roxanne because she needs a job.  It's simply not done that way."

            "But Ted, she's one of my oldest friends.  We've known each other since we were kids.  She's almost like family."

           "The fact remain, I couldn't even randomly decide to hire your brother, Brendan.  And he's a trained cop with experience.  Roxanne's fresh out of school.   She's had no law enforcement experience at all."

           "That's not true, Ted.  She's helped a lot of people solve their problems back in Boston.  She was like a real private investigator.  And you've met her yourself.  You know she's really smart.  You said so yourself."

            "Damn, sweetheart...you're putting me in a tight spot.  I don't want to be the bad guy."

            "Just talk to her, okay, love?  See what you can do.  You'll think of something.  You always do."

            Her blind faith in him always made him think unclearly.  He sighed, unable to tell her no.  "Okay, tell her to come talk to me.  Later this afternoon...around 3:00 PM.  But I'm not promising anything, you understand?"

            "I understand.  But you'll find away to help Roxie out.  I trust you.  Plus, just think of all the big favors I'll owe you, my love?"

              He smiled, and shifted the phone to the other ear.  "You, my dear, do not play fair.  Just know that I will collect on each and everyone of those favors.  You can count on it."

              "So then I suppose it's a win, win and win situation...you, me and Roxie too."  She laughed, that high pitched sing-song sound that ran up and down his body.   "Oh, by the way, hon...I invited Kevin to dinner tonight.  And since Roxie's here in town, I thought I'd invite her too.   I hope you don't mind?"

               "As a matter of fact, I do mind.  You know perfectly well how I feel about your self-righteous, sanctimonious ass of a brother.  Besides, I was hoping to collect on those favors."

              "Please, Ted.  Can't you and Kevin forgive and forget?  You and I managed to move forward from that whole awful mess.  Why can't you and Kevin make amends?  You were good friends at one point.  I want for you and Kev to be that way again."

              "Your brother put his nose in my business for that last time, baby.  I don't need a 6' 4" conscience following me around dictating my decisions.  He can save it for the sheep of his flock."

               "He's my brother.  My favorite brother.  And he was only doing what he believes is right.  The two of you at odds really hurts me, Ted.  Can't you try to be pleasant?  You don't have to be best friends.  Just stop with the snarling, snarky comments every time he's in the room.  Please?  For me?"  She stopped long enough to take a quick breath, and dived right back into the conversation.  "Besides, Roxie's going to be there tonight, and I don't want her to see the two of you bickering like school yard bullies.  Kevin's always tense when Roxanne's around anyway.  We don't need to make the atmosphere worse, do we?"

                The idea popped into his head before all the words were out of her mouth.  Roxanne Spinelli was O'Kenney's Achilles heel, of that he was sure.  Despite wearing his Roman collar as a blazing badge of celibacy, it was obvious that the man had it bad for the tall brunette.  He'd seen those puppy dog eyes following the woman around as if she were a juicy bone just out of his reach.  And then there was Roxie's sudden departure from town while he and Maureen had been on their honeymoon.  Kevin had been less than forth coming about the details, and had been acting very strangely upon their return.

               Finding employment in the Sheriff's office for an ex-stripper would be difficult, but the thought of his brother-in-law's constant discomfort over the situation was definitely a plus.  It would serve as pay back for his constant meddling.  With the brunette in town, Kevin would surely have his attention somewhere else, and out of he and Maureen's business.

               He leaned back in his chair, trying to keep the grin out of his voice.  "As you wish, love.  I will be my most gracious self this evening.  By the way, does your brother know Roxanne is back in town?  That she intends to stay permanently?"

                "No, I don't think so.  She just arrived about an hour ago, and is still here with me.  I sent her upstairs to our flat to freshen up a bit.  Why?"

                 "Hmmmm...no reason in particular.  Though, I don't think you should tell Kevin she's here ahead of time.  You don't want him to back out, do you?  Just tell him it's a quiet family dinner so we can talk, he and I.  He'll be pleasantly surprised to see Roxie there."

                 "You're probably right. I'll just let him find out when he gets here.  No use having him get all worked up about it in advance.  Thanks for being such a sweetie, Ted.  This will mean so much to Roxanne."

                   "Your wish is my command, baby.  I'll see you later this evening.  I'm suddenly looking forward to company tonight."

Copyright 2014 Victoria T. Rocus

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