Chapter 98

The dingy little roadside diner was indistinguishable from a dozen others along the Jersey turnpike.  Its cracked Naugahyde booths and scarred Formica table tops had seen better days, but they suited the clientele here just fine.  Truckers were the most regular customers, especially at this time of night, but there were often an odd assortment of night walkers passing through this particular establishment.

It held a special appeal for the man in the back booth.  He didn’t care about the other patrons, or the food, or even the coffee.  No, its charm lie in its location a good thirty miles away from home.  No one here knew him, or cared to know him – and that’s precisely how he wanted it. 

He pushed his fingers through thinning hair that was more salt than pepper nowadays, wondering at how circumstances could spin out of control, wrapping you in their clutches before you knew what was going on.  It certainly felt as though that’s what had happened to him lately.

At his age, he strove to display some wisdom in his decisions and choices.  Sometimes he was successful – sometimes not so much.  He was seriously afraid that this was one of those ‘not so much’ times. 

The waitress’s approach was signaled by the faint squeak of her thick, rubber-soled shoes on the linoleum.  He smiled politely as she filled his coffee cup for the third time that evening and asked, “Can I get you anything else, honey?”

For the third time, he replied with a bland, “No thank you.”  Going back to the book in front of him, he pretended to be engrossed in whatever paltry tale was being spun in its dog-eared pages.  It was no more than a prop, something he’d picked up on his way out the door, knowing that it would discourage company while he waited.

Because the man he was meeting was invariably late.  Truth be known, it was probably on purpose, just to jerk his chain.

How had he ever let himself fall into this role?  He was someone used to wielding authority, not being disregarded until it was convenient.  This ‘relationship’ had just about outlived its usefulness anyway, if what he’d heard today was true.

His gray eyes lifted when the bell on the front door signaled the arrival of another customer. 

Finally.

The slight, dark man’s eyes shifted nervously around the diner until they made contact with his.  He would swear that his lip curled with contempt before he crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and slunk toward the table. 

“Felix,” he was greeted as he approached the table and slid across the worn bench on the opposite side of the booth.

“You called.  I’m here.  Whaddaya want?”  Felix’s eyes shifted around the room while he pulled some of the sugar packets out to fidget with, flicking them back and forth between restless fingers. 

Quite feasibly your head on a platter, you fool.

“What can I get ya, honey?”  The waitress’s arrival at their side allowed him the time to curb his tongue.

“Just coffee.”

She shuffled off to get another cup and the pot while he reined himself in.  There was some very specific information he wanted to extract from Felix, and raising his hackles wasn’t going accomplish it.  No, he had to find a way to encourage a comfortable, cooperative Felix.

Before he could pose the first question, the waitress returned with the coffee, and he watched him nervously dump the contents of at least four of the sugar packets into the cup before stirring it forcefully.  The spoon clattered to the table, and he took a healthy swallow of the hot brew.

Felix’s features became pained as the coffee burned his mouth.  He abandoned the drink to delve into his pocket, clearly toying with something he had tucked away.  Glaring at his companion defiantly, Felix clearly expected to be berated for his recent lack of communication. 

“How’s your money holding out?”

Relief colored Felix’s face, and his shoulders slumped.  Still fidgeting hands came back to rest on the aging table top, one held in a loose fist, a chain dangling slightly from between his fingers.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled.  “The place I’m staying is a dump, but it’s the cheapest place in Gloucester City.”

“Why Gloucester City?  Isn’t she still in Red Bank?”

The chain grew longer when he tugged at it with his other hand.  It was obviously a necklace, but the pendant was still tucked into his fist, hidden from view.

“Nah, she moved to Philly last week some time.  A fancy-ass condo downtown.”

“I see.”  Now was probably a good time to grease the little man’s palm a bit more.  He withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote the name of a hotel on one of the paper napkins.  “Why don’t you stay here instead?   I’ll prepay the room for a couple of weeks.   If she’s in Philly, you should be closer to her.  I assume she’s still working for that Foundation?”

“Cool,” he said stuffing the napkin in his pocket.  “Yeah, she’s still there.”  His fist opened, but the pendant was still held invisible between his thumb and fingers.  Felix was growing bored with this conversation.  “Nothing’s going on.  She’s fine.”

“So you don’t know anything about a rape, then?” was the deadly quiet question.

Felix sat up abruptly, the necklace slipping from his hands to bounce off the scarred surface between them, where the light glinted off the diamonds that were embedded in the feminine-style cross.  His companion slapped his palm down, effectively trapping the piece of jewelry before it could be reclaimed.

“Give me that!” Felix yelped in a panic, and tried to pry the old man’s hand away.

“It’s distracting.  You can have it back when we’re finished.”  With that, he pushed it into the pocket of his slacks.  He’d bet anything this didn’t belong to Felix, anyway.  How did an internet hacker turn into a petty thief?

“I don’t know anything about a rape,” he spat, holding out his hand for the shiny trinket.

You’d better not.

“Then find out.  I want to know who, when and where, along with anything else you may have missed.  You were being paid to watch out for her.  I got you a job with her cousin so that you could do that more easily, but you screwed that up by stealing from them.  This is your sole job now, and I expect an update in two days.”

He stood and threw a few bills on the table.  “I’ll be calling, and I expect you to have answers.”

♫♪♥♪♫

She squirmed uncomfortably.  It felt like a tennis ball was sticking in her shoulder blade.  Eyes cracking open, she squinted into the gray pre-dawn light and attempted to get her bearings. 

Her eyes flitted around the tiny white room, taking in the battered dresser on the opposite wall and the armchair crowded into the corner.  The little window over the bed was bedecked with a frilly white curtain covered in daisies.  Hands exploring on either side of her came in contact with both the wall and the edge of the mattress - all without moving her arms.  It definitely wasn’t the king-sized bed she had become accustomed to.

Allegra was back at Blessed Sacrament.

Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she realized she must’ve finally dozed off for a bit.  The last time she’d checked, the clock read five in the morning.  It was now six thirty, and the first light was creeping into the room that she’d been escorted to upon her arrival.

Unbidden, the recollection of her trip from Philadelphia came to the forefront of her mind, and a weight bore down on her chest as the effects of what she’d done became real. 

Boxes and belongings carefully packed, she had plugged the old iPod David had given her into the stereo system, and guided her beloved Camry toward the freeway that led away from the city.  The contents of her music collection shuffled through its offerings at will, and Bon Jovi tunes filled both her head and the vehicle.

Was that the smartest idea she ever had?  No.  Being enveloped in the music and lyrics of Bon Jovi probably wasn’t the best choice she could make, but then again, what else was new?

She did okay for the first few songs:  Bad Medicine, Have a Nice Day, Bounce.  There wasn’t a lot of soppiness to get wrapped up in there.  It was when she hit the 206 North freeway that the bricks came tumbling down around her – along with the lyrics of It’s Hard Letting You Go.

It’s hard, so hard – it’s tearing out my heart

It’s hard letting you go

The teardrops streamed down her face, flowing from the uncertainty of what she was doing and the heartache of leaving behind the only man she’d ever loved.  It WAS hard letting him go, even if she believed in her soul that it was for the right reasons, and for the best. 

The relatively short relationship they’d shared had changed her in ways that she hadn’t suspected.  Never before had she looked forward to sharing the details of her day with anyone, or eagerly anticipated hearing about the details of theirs.  It was unfathomable to think about never hearing that voice serenade her again, or feeling those strong fingers wrap around hers as they walked hand in hand.   Their lives had truly meshed for a while, and now when she went back to the cloister, she was afraid that the emptiness at what she was missing may unbearable. 

An incredible tightness descended upon her chest, stealing her breath.  Her hands gripped the wheel with the same clutching fear that placed bands of steel around her lungs.

It isn’t too late.  I could go back and tell Richie everything.  It would still be okay.  Wouldn’t it?  It had to be. 

A full-fledged panic attack nearly forced her from the road until she could regain –

A persistent knocking at the door interrupted the memory that was becoming a little too vivid.  

Feeling as though the weight of the world was sitting on her shoulders, she threw back the covers, reaching for the pink terrycloth robe that she hadn’t worn since she was last here.  Tucking the hair behind her ears, she turned the knob to expose her morning visitor.  She’d forgotten how early days began in the cloister.

“Good morning, Sist-  Um.  Allegra.” 

It was Sister Celeste.  They’d always been friendly, although not necessarily friends.  She was a nice Irish lady with the requisite red hair and green eyes.  Allegra supposed that she was about her own age, and had been at this particular cloister for about ten years, if she recalled correctly.  This morning, she seemed uncomfortable with whatever task she’d been assigned. 

“Good morning, Sister Celeste.”

“Uh, yes.  Sister Mary Vincent sent me to remind you that breakfast is promptly at seven, if you wish to eat.  She would like to meet with you after the morning mass.”

Lovely.

Allegra stuffed away the negative thought before it could go any farther.  She was here as their guest, and would do whatever was asked of her without question or complaint.  It was the least she could do.

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile.  “I won’t be late.”

With a nod, the other woman went about her business, and Allegra closed the door, leaning against it for a moment to gather her strength.

Five months was a lifetime ago, in more ways than one.  It was going to take some concentrated effort to get back into this mindset and lifestyle, but she was determined to do it.  If she could focus on being a grateful and willing member of this community – even as a guest – it would deter her thoughts from the life she was missing out on.  A life she longed to resume.

One solitary tear slid down her cheek.

Please let this baby be Richie’s.