with her own life and journey. She thought of her childhood, her strict upbringing from parents who obviously loved her and wanted only the best for her, and the many miles that now separated them. The feelings of joy and fulfillment, although not always present, had been more readily apparent since her move, however, she longed for someone to hold her hand, a strong hero who would sweep into her life and transport her to a place of love and ecstasy that she only could imagine.
With her eyes closed, in that state between sleep and cognition, she could almost see him. His broad shoulders, muscled arms testing the limits of the uniform he wore, sworn to protect God and country. A light smile parted her lips as the pleasant thought floated through her mind, causing a burning in her bosom, providing hope to a once hopeless passage. In the shadow cast rental room, her mind still fully engaged with the man of her dreams, she said a little prayer, not aloud but with the faith of a child she’d possessed years ago, “Father, if you are there and you do know who I am, would it be too much to ask for someone to come my way that would love me, take care of me and treat me like someone special.” As her thought passed from this dimension to the next, she saw him for only a split second. The man of her dreams, brown hair under his tilted cap, profile only, but a distinctive dimple in his left cheek.
“What could she possibly be doing, she’s been just laying there for more than a half hour,” he thought, posed on the balcony of a home less than a block away. He’d been lucky to find a place with no one home for the evening, which gave him the vantage point he needed to see directly into her room. “Tonight is for me,” he thought. “No agenda, no hazardous duty pay, just for me.” The viewfinder filled with the shadowed image of the woman on the bed. Click.
He was not quite sure what he’d expected from this ‘Peeping Tom’ routine. The pictures taken from the safety of the van continued to excite him and give him a sense of power, however, skulking in the dim fading light of day did not provide the same pleasure that confronting her face to face had. He again found her in the viewfinder and extended the telephoto lens, he could see her hand on her chest, “Perhaps she is thinking of me the way I have her since our encounter,” he thought.
As he sat back in the wooden chair provided by the unknowing homeowners and looked across the distance from his perch to her room, he wondered what it would be like to possess such a rare creature. He thought of the pictures of her walking with the young guy from the library and imagined himself taking that role. It was not entirely unlikely; he was not a bad looking guy. In his line of work he had to keep himself in tip top shape and there’d been nights when he’d walked away from the bar with the best looking woman in the place, even if she was a little more tipsy than he preferred.
Before long he got tired of waiting for something to happen, a couple more pictures were taken for good measure and he left the relative security of the balcony and walked the few blocks to his van and headed home. The drive had been one of unrestrained fantasy. Why was this woman, that he did not know, having this affect on him? The short and not overly friendly exchange they had in the library was not one made of dreams.
He found her attractive and intriguing; the soft spot she had for ‘authentic’ patriots kind of pulled at his heartstrings and helped him remember the man he used to be. He harkened back to days in the field with his dad before he got sick and the times they had shared hunting the backwoods near their home and the long, lazy days on the banks of the river catching catfish. His mother had passed when he was young; cancer had taken her from his life, but not his memory.
The thought of her standing at the kitchen sink, welcoming him home from school, the smell of fresh baked sugar cookies still lingering in the air, were as vibrant now as the day he reflected on. She was quick to bring him inline but equally quick to offer a loving hug. His dad had been much the same and he missed the time together and had been bitter when his father had also been taken before his time. Solace had come at a critical time for him, the passing of his father and the void that created had been partially filled by Virginia May, a farmer’s daughter he’d known from his youth.
Red hair, pale, freckle covered skin, an innocence that he had found refreshing. She had brought passion, and what he thought would be lasting love, to his life when he thought all was lost. They lived in the home in which he was raised, lived off the land and farmed what they could to make ends meet. It was not an abundant life but a satisfying one as far as he was concerned. He was unaware of her discontent until it was too late.
The hours he spent caring for the land, the animals and making a living for them were hours away from her and it was more than she could bear. She needed constant reassurance and the meager existence they were scraping out was less than she’d dreamed of having. Raised in difficult times, her parents had always provided food on the table and adequate clothing but there was nothing exquisite about her surroundings or belongings, and she longed for that. Surely there was more in store for her, and in her own mind, she had settled and wound up in the same circumstances as her parents.
Virginia May knew he loved her, would give his life for her, however, she was unable to cope with the many hours spent alone, ultimately what the redhead did with those hours led to their destruction. The day of her departing haunted him still, the fancy SUV sitting in the driveway, her bags by the door, a simple lunch on the table as she always did when he came home for a quick break from the fields. A dark, handsome man had stood near the Escalade, pacing back and forth, checking the time on his Rolex repeatedly. Not much of an explanation other than she’d found new love and was moving on but, “they could still be friends”, she’d said, with a parting, pathetic kiss on his cheek. She might as well have ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it under her heels.
The love of his life gone, his parents taken suddenly from him, his will to live destroyed, he’d been forced to sell the farm to survive. He retained the house and a few acres surrounding the structures but everything else was gone. The funds from the sale had provided sustenance but not for long. He’d had hours and days filled with rage and resentment and no outlet until, one late night, he’d watched
He’d get back at that rich bastard that took his Virginia May and every other money grubbing scumbag that he could find. He’d set things right and all would be well. His energy and anger toward God and man were funneled into perfecting his craft and it had paid off. His first target had been Virginia May’s home. What a thrill that had been, rifling through their belongings, knowing what he did of her wants and desires had been overwhelming, as he stood in their bedroom imagining what took place there.
The crime had actually been easier than he had imagined, valuables were plentiful, access barely unrestricted and unloading the items a breeze. A newfound career with untold benefits, the thrill of the hunt ever present had paid off for him over the past ten years. He was free from a criminal record, except in his heart, and the scattered bank accounts only needed one final deposit to set him free.
There was no question that the librarian, Blanche 'Whatever', had caught his attention due to her similarity to Virginia May, but there was more to it than that, and he was sure he’d seen it in her eyes. She wanted him. His sloppy performance at the library was suspect, and the exchange disconcerting, but there was no mistaking the glint in her eye as he had left. In his mind it was unmistakable. There had been an attraction there, but what to do from here. She knew him as a handicapped vet with poor vision and a cane. He suspected his performance and disguise would not linger in the woman’s memory, but when he appeared before her as himself she would be unable to resist the connection. The thought of how that may play out occupied his mind until he returned home.
Entering the hidden desk area he could see a message was waiting on the restricted cell phone. He dialed, “Where are you? You’re suppose to have this phone with you at all times, is that understood? Don’t phone me back. I’ll be busy but we want two quick outings back to back on the heels of what you did last night. By the way, good job, the press is going nuts and the police won’t release any information. A wonderful little panic is starting to develop, keep it going. Won’t be any package of info for these next two, sorry, no time. Do something on your own, we’ll leave it up to you, but keep it within the same zone we’re working with. If you have any questions you can try me tomorrow.”
“Finally,” he thought, “I’m tired of having to pick on these common folk, ‘bout time somebody with some cash paid the price.”
The dreamy librarian eventually found the energy to pull herself from her fantasies and returned to real life. She really needed someone tonight, if not to hold at least to talk to. The thought of Mrs. Muir or Caroline came to mind, but she just didn’t have the will to spend another hour talking about fruit salad or the latest soaps. She considered going for a walk but the assault at the bus stop prevented her from mustering the courage to venture out, at least not alone.
Jasper and his powerful chest flashed through her mind, remembering that tomorrow night she needed to
