Well, perhaps you had a day off for President's Day, like I did. I spent the day driving to visit my family in NJ, and thus completely forget that it is a fabulous Monday, exactly the day I promised to publish the next part of my story.
Oh well. You now have less time to wait for the next installment! See? Positive thoughts!
There she was again. Across the street, coming from a dark
alley. What was she doing back there? An innocent girl like that, there is no
reason for her to walk around in dark alleys. At least none that Charlie could
imagine, but she must know something that he didn’t. Actually, a girl like
that, she must know a lot of things that he didn’t. But Charlie wanted to know
what they were. He wanted to know who she was, what she thought, and why she
did the things she did.
So he did
what any self-respecting, desperate man would do. He followed her.
He quickly
crossed the street and followed a few feet behind her for a couple blocks. She
didn’t stop to talk to anyone. She didn’t look in any direction. She simply
watched her feet and walked briskly through the streets, dodging anyone who
might slow her down. After a few blocks, she slipped into a dark house and locked
the door.
Charlie
stopped in front of the house and considered his options. Who was this girl who
seemed so afraid of the world? He decided he was never going to get to talk to
her unless he found some excuse to accidentally run into her. He walked up and
down the streets, his mind turning with ideas of how to meet this girl.
“How come
you never used to come play with us before, Mr. Charlie?” Polly asked the young
man as she adjusted the bonnet she had placed on his head.
“Probably
because he knew you would dress him up like that,” Lucas rolled his eyes at
her.
Polly
responded by sticking out her tongue and looked back at Charlie for his answer.
Children never forget when they have asked a question.
“Oh, I
don’t know,” he laughed slightly. “I uh, I guess I just wasn’t looking to find
some friends. It seems one never finds what one is looking for.”
“Are you looking for something?” Lucas
asked.
Charlie
nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“What is
it?” Polly wanted to know.
“Well, it’s
not what is it; it’s more like who is it,” Charlie responded.
All three
were curious now. “Who is it?” Collin
asked. They gathered around him, waiting expectantly for a romantic story or a tale
of adventure.
“Um…a
girl,” Charlie laughed, a bit uncomfortable from the attention.
“I knew
it!” Polly uttered under her breath.
“Why are
you trying to find this girl?” Lucas wondered.
“Because
she’s beautiful,” Charlie responded.
“Ohh?”
Lucas said uncertainly. “You, you don’t even know her?”
“Well
that’s why I’m trying to find her.” Charlie explained. “I want to get to know
her.”
“Why on
earth would you want to know someone you don’t already know?” Lucas could not
understand.
“Because
she is different from me.” Charlie explained. “Because she has lived a
different life and understands different ideas and knows different things. I
don’t want to live in my small world; I want to know what she knows.”
Lucas sat
there and thought about that for a moment. Then he decided he didn’t understand
it, and they went back to playing make believe.
Polly
walked around to each person, and the chipped doll, pouring imaginary tea into
their cups. When she got to Charlie, her hand slipped, and she dropped the pot
into his lap.
“Oh no! I’m
so sorry, Mr. Charlie!” Polly turned bright red. But Charlie’s mind was not on
tea.
This was
it! This was how he could meet her. He was going to spill his coffee on her and
then apologize. She would think he was a gentleman, and buy him new coffee. It
was a foolproof plan.
Charlie had
followed the girl enough to know where she lived and that she went everyday to
the cathedral to work. At least, he assumed that’s what she did, since he saw
her go into the cathedral on his way to work, and he often saw her come out on
his way home. Stopping her on the way there would be the perfect time to
implement his plan.
Perhaps it
was because he feared becoming an obsessive stalker, or perhaps he just had to
go to his own job, but there were some things that Charlie missed when he
watched her routine. He did not see that some days she ventured into the darker
alleys to visit somebody.
The painted
man treated her to stories of his successes, as he hunted both man and beast.
Any being who had ever crossed him, according to the stories, ended up with something
of theirs in the painted man’s sea chest. He never said where he got the chest,
but he filled it with his all treasures. Teeth of beasts he had slaughtered,
trophies of men he had broken. His trophies had been their trophies, and as he
proved his dominance, he seized their symbols of achievement.
Rebekah was
enamored with his stories. Her life seemed full of people who didn’t know what
they wanted or what their purpose was, but here was a man who never questioned
himself. The confidence, the success he demonstrated was attractive. And his
willingness to share with her made her heart even more vulnerable before his
presence. She could not control its beating as she sat at his feet, listening
to his stories. The manner in which he told them, the way his tattoos danced
over his muscles while he talked, the look in his eyes that seemed more alive
than any other person she had ever seen. Rebekah’s heart pounded within her
while she listened.
What was
this feeling? It felt good; it was exciting. She wanted to feel it more, but
she was also wary of it. How could she let herself become dependent on a
feeling caused by someone else? No, she mustn’t. She mustn’t let anybody into
her life. People could not be trusted, even those who made you feel all tingly
inside.
But then he
would tower over her, and his musky breath would whisper over her neck and
tingle down her back. And she felt powerless in his presence.
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