Dedication

Darkness Over Me

 

By Tracilyn George

 

 

©2006 Tracilyn George

 

Dedication

 

To the narrow-minded

Who may one day

Find they really

Have nothing to say.

 

And to the cold-hearted

Who just may be

Finding how it is

To be me.

 

 

Psalm 142

 

I cried unto the Lord with my voice; with my voice unto the Lord did I make my supplication. 2 I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my trouble. 3 When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path. In the way wherein I walked have they privily laid a snare for me.

4 I looked on my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul. 5 I cried unto thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living. 6 Attend unto my cry; for I am brought very low: deliver me from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I. 7 Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name: the righteous shall compass me about; for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.

 

 

1

To the outside world, Jason appeared to be a very simple man. This was because he lived a life that appeared to be very easy and uncomplicated by many standards.

He was well off from a significant fortune left to him by the grandparents who raised him since he was a toddler, but did not feel the need to live in a large estate. Instead, he had decided to make his home in a small, two-bedroom bungalow in the north end of Dartmouth.

He didn’t believe it prudent to be flaunting his wealth. After all, he didn’t want to attract friends and enemies he could much rather do without.

The friends he wanted - and had - would like him for him and not his money. As for his enemies, he would rather have them resent him for something he did or said rather than be jealous of his having things they wished they owned.

His choice of clothing was often simple, but professional. He felt it to be unnecessary to wear three hundred-dollar suits when a simple shirt and tie would do. He believed that one didn’t have to spend a lot of money to look successful. It was his belief looking and feeling well had nothing to do with money; it was all in the attitude.

Of course, Jason did not have an attitude. While he did appear to be distant at times, he never looked down his nose at anyone and believed everyone had the right not to be judged prematurely. It was his opinion that all people deserved a chance and everyone deserved a break. This was the main reason he did so well at the People First Organization.

People First was founded by Travis Wayne. The mission statement of the organization was those in need required immediate attention and personal financial gain took a back seat to helping those who needed them in desperate times. Those who worked for Travis had to check their egos at the door.

Every person was hired knew he or she would not become wealthy working at People First. The philosophy of its founder was money only clouded people’s judgment; and if you were helping others to make sense of what was going inside their heads, then the therapists needed have a clear focus.

He had a high standard in those he hired. Travis only wanted individuals who truly put the well-being of others ahead of themselves. He didn’t want people who looked for fame or glory during the process of helping an individual in need of help.

Travis knew the client would be the one who suffered because of the therapist’s ego, and it was not the reason he started his company. He didn’t want people thinking they could make money off those who needed treatment. He believed therapists should be more worried about the clients they served than padding their pocketbooks.

Jason loved dealing with people, especially those in need. He was one of the first people on the scene of a fire or assault just to give a shoulder to lean on or a hand to clean up. He wanted only to be judged by his merits. The last thing he wanted was to be judged by his material possessions or by his color.

He met up with one of his colleagues, Moira Ferguson, at a house fire in the north end of Halifax. The entire family had been put out, and the inspectors had just arrived to investigate the cause. The kids loved Jason because he had the childlike qualities to which they could relate.

He was dancing around, making faces and weird noises. He did everything and anything he could to keep them from thinking about losing everything they owned. Alex learned at an early age how to help others take their minds off their troubles, even if it was only for a few moments.

The last thing he wanted was for them to focus on tragedy. He would rather give them some good memories of the day they lost their material possessions. Moira was holding the baby, talking to him and playing peek-a-boo.

She loved children, but in her heart; she believed she wouldn’t make much of a mother. Her own childhood had been so traumatic she didn’t have the confidence to raise children for fear of not doing right by them.

She knew Jason had a wonderful time growing up, despite his beginnings. His parents had died in a tragic accident his first Christmas. A drunk driver had slammed into the car and they had been killed on impact. Jason was the only survivor and was sent to be with his grandmother in Toronto.

She had met his grandmother the year before she passed away. Moira could see why he adored her so much. She was very kind and welcomed anybody her grandson brought home.

Mrs. Bennett doted on all people as if they were a part of the family. She had made certain that Jason wanted for nothing growing up. Mrs. Bennett was the perfect role model, and it was obvious that he had inherited her warm traits.

Jason was crushed when she died, but he chose only a week to grieve. Travis had sent out word that he could take as long as he needed. He replied it wasn’t necessary, although he appreciated the gesture. He believed his grandmother would understand his wanting to go back to work as soon as possible.

His work had given him more comfort than staying at home grieving. The last thing he needed – or wanted – was to be idle and have his mind wander. He didn’t want to be constantly thinking about his grandmother and the emptiness he now had in his life. Work had been his salvation, not to mention Moira’s warm shoulder to lean on when needed.

However, also days like this caused Jason some anguish. It hurt him to see entire families lose everything they worked so hard to achieve. He had seen so much of that when he was growing up in Toronto. No one, especially young children, should be subjected to such a loss.

When the group had the family was finally situated with hotel rooms, Moira and Jason headed back to the office. It was nearing the end of November and the air was chilly.

It was especially cold after being out for several hours as they had. “Do you want to grab a tea there, buddy?” she asked as they made their way into the lobby.

The receptionist, Deanna, handed out their messages as they walked by. Deanna admired both Moira and Jason, as did most of the people who worked at People First.

“Hello, Ms. Ferguson. Good afternoon, Mr. Bennett. It looks as if the two of you had a pretty rough morning.”

Even though both Jason and Moira were doctors, they preferred not to be addressed as such. They believed it sounded too ostentatious and favored the Ms. and Mr. to being called doctor.

Actually, they preferred being called by their given names. However, if those they worked with decided not to, Ms. and Mr. would be their first choice. They wanted the people around them to not fear them but to consider them as friends.

Both nodded, emotionally exhausted. Jason muttered under his breath. Days like this dug deep and hurt more than either were willing to admit. “Actually,” he answered, “Tea sounds perfect right about now.”

Moira wrapped her arm around his waist, and they headed for the cafeteria. Many of the people who worked at People First were either psychologists or psychiatrists. But the seemingly random acts of human kindness were their true business.

“Can you please tell me why fires only seem to happen in the middle of winter?” Jason grumbled as he doctored up his tea. “Is it possible someone higher up is trying to test us?” He hated the cold as much as Moira loved it.

She grinned, her dark green eyes sparkling with mischievousness. “I think you need to buck it up there, buddy boy. Besides, it’s not even that cold out. Be a man already.

But have you thought this through? Maybe we are being tested to see how our stamina holds up. We can score major points with the big man upstairs.”

Jason snickered. He knew that Moira was very spiritual, and loved teasing her about it whenever possible. “I think Travis knows our stamina pretty well. I think he should start bringing in the rookies. Goodness knows that they need the experience, not us.”

Moira just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, Jason, whatever,” she said, giving him the ‘whatever,’ sign. “You would miss getting your hands dirty playing around with the kids. And don’t you dare deny it!” She giggled as she pointed her finger at him.

In return, he gave the ‘like I care’ look. “Do I have much of a choice? You know, I was raised to respect my elders,” he retorted. He knew he would get a rise out of her, since she was only a few months older than he was.

She kicked him lightly under the table. She and Jason had always played the brother-sister rivalry bit. Their co-workers loved it when they did their mock arguments. They knew it was a stress reliever for the pair. It gave them a welcome bit of comic relief in an otherwise taxing day.

Moira and Jason wanted to ensure everyone was at ease and not too choked up about anything. It was best that they keep as professional a distance as they could without becoming overwhelmed. They didn’t want to be treating their colleagues for mental breakdown or fatigue.

“That baby sure did like you,” he blurted. “Maybe you should have two or three of your own. Then I can be Uncle Jason.” He knew how much Moira adored children, especially those under the age of eight. Anyone older than that, she instantly distrusted.

She raised her eyebrows and snorted. While she did love children, she preferred the ones she could give back to their parents.

She had lived this long on her own that the thought of sharing her life and her home with someone else bothered her. She enjoyed the freedom of being alone and not being attached to another person who dictated her actions and decisions.

“What about you, Mister I-bet-you-can’t-do-this? I can see you with half dozen rug rats or so. Then I can be Auntie Moira.”

She never considered having children. She loved children, but she would much rather be an aunt to them than a mother. She much rather be able to spoil them but then return them to their parents at the end of the day.

Jason was such a kid at heart and knew how to relate to children of all ages. He had an innate ability to make them relax and take their minds off their troubles. They trusted him immediately, as if they had an unspoken understanding of whom they were dealing with.

He flashed his devilish grin, his dark brown eyes twinkling devilishly. He leaned forward, chuckling as he did so. “Make you a deal. When you have one, I’ll have one,” he smirked, his smile broadening.

She extended her hand, raising her eyebrows. “Baby, I’ll pay big bucks to see you have one. And knowing you like I do, I know you wouldn’t be able to handle the pain.” Jason was a big man in stature, but Moira knew he was a coward under his large body.

He returned her hand, grasping it tightly. “Well, the way science is going nowadays, ya never know. There are also medications that will numb any pain I may encounter.” His deep brown eyes sparkled with the mischievousness of a twelve-year-old.

Moira headed home and placed herself spread eagle on her living room floor. Jason often told her that if he weren’t raised a gentleman, he would take her when she lay like that. She believed that he should have taken a chance. He may have liked it.

However, Jason respected her far too much to take advantage of her. It was one of her ways of relaxing, letting all the stress of the day mediate from her body. Actually, it was her first step of her system.

And Jason knew better. His grandmother raised him to be better than that. He probably felt she would come back from the dead if he went against the morals she had dutifully instilled in him.

She stared blankly up at her stark white ceiling. She had a simple philosophy in life. Put out there what you would want to come back to you. It was the simple law of attraction.

It took her a long time to plug into how the universe worked, but she went after it with gusto. She knew she still had a lot more to do, but she was already putting the law into action.

Spirituality was of the essence for her. It was her contention that you had to understand yourself first before you could begin understanding those around you.

The power higher than oneself was there to guide you from the inside out. She believed that all religions of the world had one basic, simple thread that bound them together.

There is one greater power, whether it was God, Allah, Buddha - whatever the religion called its icon, and that power guided its followers along the path to greatness. She knew she was being general in that belief, but fundamentally, it was what she felt.

Moira didn’t really belong to one religious sect. It wasn’t as if she weren’t religious. She was. But she hadn’t found the one that suited her and she didn’t consider things irrationally. She considered herself a follower of all religions.

She liked to study and think things through. And choosing a religion, she felt was extremely important. She didn’t want to slight anyone by making a rash decision.

Religion was a personal subject, and it wasn’t something that should be considered lightly. It had to fit the person’s own values.

She had been raised Christian. Her mother had been a devout Anglican, but Moira found it to be too stringent and had confrontations with one of the ministers on several occasions. She believed there to be only one God in the Christian world and He really didn’t worry about where His children worshiped as long as they did so.

She had ventured into other places of worship - Catholic, Jewish, Muslim - and found them to be as rewarding as the next. So she left the Anglican Church, but stilled prayed daily.

Even after all she had been through early in life, she knew God would protect her where it mattered. He always looked out for the soul. And He always healed the heart.

Her body may have been battered, but her spirit was resilient. And it took its share of bruises along the way but always managed to come through to the other side in one piece.

 

 

2

Jason believed he and his division had worked extremely hard that quarter. Many people had been displaced or disheartened because of a long string of house fires and burglaries.

The winter seemed to be the worst time of year for families. His fellow co-workers seemed to be going full tilt to help where they could. He couldn’t think of a better job than that of helping those in need.

As a reward for their dedication, Moira decided to throw them a party at her home. Moira had inherited the property plus a substantial fortune when her mother died several years before.

She definitely wasn’t working for the money and wouldn’t have even if she weren’t wealthy. She had dedicated herself early on to helping others for she had witnessed pain and suffering first-hand at a young age.

Her group appreciated her get-togethers. Her parties were always well planned and Moira was always the gracious host. She felt her staff deserved to be rewarded and in return, her staff loved and respected her for that.

Previous employers rarely gave a kind word. So when they found one who appreciated them and their efforts, they became instantly loyal.

Guests began to arrive early that evening. Moira had a vast array of food and beverages, as usual. And of course, Jason was last one to arrive. He always liked being fashionably late. Besides, it annoyed Moira and he loved to do anything to get her worked up.

He could feel his heart race when he saw his boss in a form-fitting black dress that complimented her full figure. He hoped his affections weren’t obvious to anybody, but, no one would have cared. Many thought they should be together anyway since they appeared to be a perfect match.

Jason grabbed a beer before he made himself comfortable near a few friends from accounting. Jason didn’t believe in cliques and because of this, he made friends with people from all walks of life. Besides, people liked hanging with Jason.

He was funny and loved making others laugh. His idols were Wayne and Shuster. He often did their skits in his own unique one-man show. His co-workers adored it and always looked forward to parties so they could listen to him. They often referred to him as the Jim Carrey of the East Coast.

Once settled, he took a quick glance around to check out what was going on. Most of the guests he knew, but there was one in particular he didn’t recognize. The man was trying to be inconspicuous but it didn’t seem to be working.

Instead of making a scene, Jason thought he would watch to see what would happen first. More to the point, this was Moira’s party and he didn’t think she would let just anyone come into her home. Moira was not above keeping herself and her guests safe whenever possible.

The stranger continued to chat with the other guests, making the women giggle and the men chuckle. Jason’s first impression was he was slimy and underhanded. He definitely wasn’t Moira’s type.

Maybe he came with someone - which was possible since Jason felt it was none of his business to pry into everyone’s personal life. He believed that if they wanted him to know, they would tell him.

Moira mixed and mingled among her staff and their dates. She possessed special warmth that made everyone feel welcome. She smiled suspiciously yet playfully at Jason. “Mr. Bennett, are you going to nurse that one beer all night or have you had a two-four or so before you came?” she scowled, playfully.

He grinned in response. “You know me, Ms. Ferguson. It takes me awhile to get started on things but once I do, look out.” He made a gun gesture with his hand, emphasizing the ‘look out.’

She snickered, patting his head in a ‘good boy’ way and made a beeline to the other side of the room. She liked Jason’s sarcastic humor - it was so in line with her own dark sense of wit and she thought it was the main reason they got along so well. Few people understood it and most took it personally until they realized it was only in jest.

Like Jason, she had noticed the stranger in her home. She also thought he had come with one of her staff and like Jason, she believed the personal lives of her colleagues were just that. It was not her job to poke her nose into their business.

She would do so only if requested and she would gladly oblige them whenever possible. But, she also was of the opinion that as team leader, it was her job to protect her employees from whatever malice pursued them and she told them so. If she heard through the grapevine that one of them was having a problem with their significant other, she did what she could to help them.

Many times, she had offered a safe haven to sleep, think or just get away from the moment. Many times, she was taken up on that offer. She was adored for it but she was rarely told. She believed that family stuck by each other and showed their love in actions, not words.

Gifts would appear at her desk for her kindness. None of them was signed but Moira knew where they came from. A sly smile acknowledged everything. No one even had to know the situation or the individuals involved. For Moira, discretion was of the utmost importance.

Irving Boyd wanted desperately to fit in with the group. He knew that Moira and Jason suspected he was an outsider from the moment he arrived, but was convinced he had the others accepting him as a date of one of their friends.

Moira was very attractive, with long auburn hair, emerald green eyes and a full figure. She had a lot more to offer a man than slimmer women. Irving also knew she was intelligent, direct and didn’t play around.

Chance Gordon, his boss, had given him precise instructions on how to do this. Chance was founder and head of MindOverMatter, a large corporation in which he purchased organizations on the brink of bankruptcy. He would then build the companies back up then proceed to sell them at a profit.

But in the process of doing this, he would find ways to let people go. Many were laid off due to lack of work or they were forced to retire. Some, unable to cope with being out of work, ended their lives.

Chance took great pleasure in destroying people. He knew young Irving was very arrogant with his approach to women but only because he was insecure in himself. Moira would never fall for conceit, especially when it came to men. Irving would have to play nice - pretend to be interested in what others had to say. But above all else, act charming but not overly so.

The reason he was told to do this was because Moira would see right through it. Irving wanted desperately to approach the woman but was, for the first time, intimidated by her. She was tiny in stature but she carried herself very well and had an aura of strength about her. He decided to let her come to him.

Moira watched him carefully for about an hour or so. She didn’t want to cause a scene in front of her guests, in case he was a friend of theirs. When it appeared that he didn’t stick with just one or two people, she decided to take the chance to approach him.

“Hi, I’m Moira. I’ve been watching you most of the night and have yet to figure out a few things. I have only two questions.

First question is who are you? The second question is who are you here with?” Irving was told that she was blunt but he never expected it to be like this. She was definitely direct.

He flashed his charming smile. He knew she was suspicious but he wanted to get the information he needed before he was thrown out.

“I came alone. I heard about the party and your organization - especially about you, Ms. Ferguson. I wanted to get to know more about you and your people. I was hoping to eventually be hired on to the company.”

Don’t waste time

With tired old lines.

Be original.

Use your head.

Think, my friend.

You might enjoy it.

Your brain will thank you.

Believe me, babe,

It’ll like its own notions.

Just like potions,

One becomes another;

Quickly multiplying,

Making you believe

They will never end.

Wander through

The mysteries lurking

Inside the recesses

Of your grey matter

Be original.

When you exercise

Your brain,

You might be surprised

With the results

That come of it.

No one likes

Hearing the same things

Repeated again and again.

So be original,

My friend

And you just might

Learn something.

Be Original by Moira Ferguson

Moira eyed him suspiciously. He was trying too hard to be slick for her liking. She always had the ability to see through phony exteriors and didn’t appreciate people who put forth a persona that were not true to their nature.

“And how did you hear about all of us? We’re pretty low-key. We don’t believe in advertising.”

Irving grinned. “I heard about your great work through word of mouth, Ms. Ferguson. Good deeds, I hear, never go without reward.” He hoped she would fall for this line, even if it were cliché. It was quickly obvious she did not.

Her green eyes darkened to a deep jade. “That’s true but we don’t work for the reward or for the money. We earn enough to make our way but not much more. We do it because it makes us feel good.

You don’t strike me as the type of person who does good things just for the sake of doing it. I think you do it for the money, the glory, the recognition. In fact, I think you’d do just about anything for it.”

The spy began to panic. He had done something to let her on to him. Chance was going to kill him - or worse. He had to think fast. “Look, Ms. Ferguson, I just wanted to meet you.

I’ve heard so much about you that I crashed your party. I’ve seen you on TV whenever you or your group does something for people in need.” Irving was desperate. He needed the woman to believe he admired her.

Moira scowled, her intense green eyes coldly focusing on him. They were so cold; Irving was feeling goose bumps.

“I don’t believe you. I want you out of my home now and you can tell whomever you work for that I am not impressed that my privacy has been invaded. I will be on the lookout for you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to calm down. Jason, make certain this creep leaves the premises before I call the cops.”

She flipped her auburn hair and angrily went upstairs. She needed a few moments to cool herself off. The young man watched her blankly, not knowing what had just hit him. Jason chuckled quietly, knowing exactly what had just transpired.

Hurricane Moira had just swept through the living room and had a direct hit on the young man. Irving spied him and made his way towards him. “I suppose you think that was funny?”

“You’re quite the scholar, aren’t you? Where did you go to school? It must have been the University of I’m Not Very Bright.” Jason couldn’t help it; he found Moira amusing when she shredded people to bits. She never had to raise her voice but just the mere tone was enough to let people know she was not pleased.

And he especially liked it when she tore a strip off idiots like this guy. It made him appreciate his place in the world. “If you don’t mind a suggestion, I recommend you leave before she comes back down here.”

Irving grumbled something under his breath and decided against arguing. Jason was probably right in his warning - Moira seemed the type who could destroy a person without his realizing it. He turned and disappeared, determined to infiltrate the organization somehow.

By now, Jason was beginning to loosen up. He had more than enough beer to make normal people woozy.

If Jason was funny stone cold sober, he was twice as funny when he had a couple of drinks in him. And he worked the drunkenness into his routine. He knew that Moira’s guests needed to relax and forget about the incident.

He was just the person for the job to get this party back on track. He did bits and pieces of Wayne and Shuster, mixed in with other comics. He did a little Art Carney and Jim Carrey. He liked comedians who were physical and off-the-wall. He was definitely into slapstick.

Many people were surprised he mimicked white comedians. Jason thought a lot of the black comics used too much foul language. Not all of them, mind you. He did like Bill Cosby and the Wayans. He didn’t believe comedy had a color barrier.

He was going into his last skit when Moira finally came back downstairs. She shook her head at him with mock disgust, all the while grinning from ear-to-ear. She had been watching from the top of the staircase through most of his routine.

If anyone could get her out of a foul mood, Jason was the one who could do it. And more often than not, he did. He had done his job.

3

Moira decided she would not be spending New Year’s at home, alone as usual. She didn’t want a date, just to go out and spend time with people other than those she worked with. Not that she had a problem with her staff. On the contrary, she felt as though her team was the family she never really had.

This year, though, would be different. She decided she needed a social life. She called it her pre-New Year’s resolution. Everyone else on her staff had one, including Jason although he tried to make it as if he didn’t. Her only problem now was where to go.

She finally decided on a bash being thrown at the local recreation center. She knew by talk around the office that none of her staff would be there - they were either doing house parties or going downtown. She felt secure enough in that fact no one she knew would be attending and therefore try to protect her or hog her attention.

She stepped out of her car and handed the keys to the valet. He was taken aback by her. She was not a knockout by any means but she was pretty. She didn’t consider herself in the same league as Ann-Margret or Halle Berry.

But she was stunning that evening, especially in the forest green velvet gown she had decided to wear. It was a good color for her, she thought. It brought out not only her deep green eyes, but also the dark red of her hair.

Moira walked gracefully into the hall, trying her best not to look as if she was alone. Not that she needed to worry. She didn’t stay that way for very long. Men crowded around her almost from the moment she walked into the room. They were mesmerized, first by her looks but then by her wit and intelligence.

She giggled, sipping on champagne most of the evening. It was the first time in months that her mind wasn’t on work.

That is, until she caught sight of someone who looked vaguely familiar and her heart jumped. She wasn’t certain if she were angrier with him or angry with herself for getting upset.

Irving had noticed her, too. He hoped that she had forgotten about the night at her house party. It had been over a month but he knew that she had an excellent memory and would eventually recall their unfortunate meeting.

He decided to wait before approaching her for a dance. He wanted to be sure that she had forgotten. But he never got the opportunity.

Unfortunately, for Irving, Chance had also spotted her. He knew who she was but he was unaware of how attractive and charming she was. Irving had described her to him, but Chance trusted very few and believed even less. This time, Irving had not exaggerated.

Chance approached her cautiously. He didn’t want to set off any alarms. Unlike Irving, he knew how to control himself. And he also knew how to talk to women without making them feel degraded or ill at ease. He liked when he conquered women without them even realizing they’ve been taken.

Moira watched him as he made his way towards her. He was very attractive and had a smile that would charm the rattle off a snake. She was flattered - he could have gone to anyone. She decided to keep her guard to a minimum but not so much that she was totally in an uncompromising position.

His soft, chocolate brown eyes twinkled. His mouth curled when he spoke. “Hi, my name is Chance,” he said, extending his hand. His voice was warm, almost melodic.

Moira loved the deepness of it. It had just enough softness that it didn’t come off as booming, which would scare a lot of people. She just had to make sure she didn’t fall under the trance of his voice.

The young woman tried not to laugh as she grasped his hand snugly. “Chance? What were your parents thinking?” It was an unusual name, much like her own but at least she didn’t have people questioning how it came about.

“It’s okay - you can laugh. I know it’s not exactly the first choice people think of when they want to name their kid but I rather like it. It fits my personality, I think.” His eyes sparkled warmly, setting the young woman at ease.

Moira looked intently upon him. “Maybe so, but you still haven’t answered my question.” She could feel herself becoming flush with the unexpected attention. She hoped she wouldn’t fall for his obvious charms.

He nodded slightly. His chocolate brown eyes were captivating and Moira was doing her best not to become too mesmerized by them. “I do apologize, my dear. I was just captivated by your laugh. I hope you don’t take offense.

As for my name, my mother said that I came to be because of a chance encounter with my father. So that’s why they chose to call me Chance. I know it’s stupid but it’s as good a reason as any.”

Irving watched keenly as his boss and Moira chatted freely with each other. He was awestruck by Chance’s charismatic way with people. He was especially smooth when it came to women. He wished that he had the same ability, in particular the time he was at Moira’s home.

Chance had torn a strip off of him when he returned to the office the following week. How dare he make a fool of the company, embarrassing all that he had worked for?

If he had known Irving would screw up so badly, he wouldn’t have sent to do the job, no matter how simple it was. A chimpanzee would have done a better job at gaining the trust of the young woman.

Irving tried to explain to him that the organization hadn’t even been mentioned. Chance wouldn’t listen - he knew how smart Moira and her people were. They would be able to trace anyone anywhere. He had to do damage control.

Chance followed Moira onto the dance floor. He had to admit he was attracted to her. Not in the lustful way, he was usually attracted to women.

He found her charming and witty. He loved the light fragrance she wore and how gracefully she carried herself. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily fall in love with a woman like her.

Moira took pride on how she presented herself. She believed that she should hold herself high but not so much that people thought her arrogant. Although she was not the Hollywood stereotype of beauty – she had curves everywhere that counted – she knew how to dress to hide imperfections and accentuate her assets.

She also prided herself on not falling for outward appearances. Many hearts were broken with a kind word spoken at the onset or a handsome face. And this Chance had both.

Although she was captivated and flattered by Chance’s charms, she felt he might be a little too charismatic. She didn’t exactly trust anyone that smooth. But she decided she was having far too good of a time to worry about it and she probably wasn’t going to see him again after tonight anyway.

They talked most of the night. Both felt as if they had known each other for years. Moira couldn’t remember the last time she had such a good time. She was having so good of a time that she didn’t realize how the night just flew by. Midnight seemed to come only moments after she arrived.

Chance was such a passionate kisser - obviously with tons of experience. He was a very handsome man, especially for one whom seemed to be quite a bit older than she was. Maybe what people said was true - men only get better with age.

The party finally came to an end around two. Chance escorted Moira to her car, promising that he would never forget this night. She agreed. She hadn’t had such a good time in ages and part of her didn’t want the evening to end.

He looked down upon her fondly, lightly caressing her cheek. “Look, I know it’s late but would like you like to go somewhere for coffee and we can talk like normal people?”

He knew if he could isolate the young woman, he would have a better opportunity to gain her confidence. What better way for him to infiltrate her organization?

She smiled; her face warm as she found herself somewhat entranced by the older man. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it as she had never felt that way before. “You mean not trying to yell over music that’s playing far too loud?” she replied.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. So what do you say? We can go to the Second Cup or Tim’s and get a high off caffeine.” His deep voice was soft and soothing. So much so, it transfixed her and it scared her all in the same moment.

She could feel her heart flutter. Why was this man so interested in her? It wasn’t as if she were drop-dead gorgeous. She felt she was passable but not the type of woman who had men drooling over her.

He could have his pick of any woman around and it was her belief he probably did. But what the heck, she only lived once. “Okay, I’ll meet you at Tim’s on Water Street in about twenty minutes.”

He was waiting at the entrance for her when she arrived. He looked quite out of his element dressed the way he was. Then she realized that she probably looked out of place too. He beamed, holding the door for her as she passed by.

She felt like a giddy little school girl on her first date. She hated giddy. She felt it to be a sign of weakness. She had no time for weakness in her life. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention and didn’t want for she felt it distracted her from what was truly important.

Moira and Chance was an arresting couple. Granted that Chance appeared years older than she did, but the patrons of the small coffee shop could barely keep their eyes off of them. It wasn’t that they were the Hollywood ideal of a handsome pair, it was because they weren’t.

Both had some weight on them - not so much that people looked upon them in disgust but enough to give them both a healthy figure. Moira was tiny in stature - not much taller than five foot and Chance was close to six.

Moira wasn’t used to the attention that was being paid to her. It seemed almost too good to be true - like Cinderella at the ball. The only problem was Moira didn’t believe in the fairy tales and the happily ever after.

She had seen enough in her short life that she knew that it never happened. She had no delusions about what would or could happen.

Neither did Chance. Both just wanted to stay in the moment for they both felt it could never last no matter how hard they had tried. Chance gazed gently upon her face.

She wore very little make up. It was just enough to give her features an extra boost. She had the redheaded complexion with just a hint of ruddiness. She was of the opinion too much make up only made her look as if she were hiding something.

She didn’t seem to care that she didn’t have the porcelain doll features that other women tried to achieve. She seemed to lack the vanity of girls he had dated in the past.

His eyes crinkled with mischief. “Are you always this calm and collected? Or is this an alternate personality that only comes out at night?”

He loved how she didn’t put on airs for anybody. She was so down to earth he couldn’t believe she was real. He reminded her so much of someone. He just couldn’t put his finger on it but was determined to figure it out.

She took a long sip of her tea before she answered. She wasn’t certain how she would answer that question honestly without putting the man off. “Actually, I’m neither. I have a little bit of a temper. My friends call me the Bichon.”

He gave her a shocked look. “They refer you to a dog?” How dare they compare this beautiful and charming woman sitting in front of him to a four-legged animal? What human didn’t possess some traits they preferred not to have?

She nodded, giggling and rolling her big green eyes. “Yes, the dog. It not only refers to my height but to my personality. I’m all bark and no bite. No respect from my friends. No respect at all.” Moira blushed, realizing she was mimicking Jason and his impression of Rodney Dangerfield.

Chance could feel his smile getting bigger as the night went on. It had been years since he felt this way with a woman.

It had been so long that he had blocked it out but still couldn’t recall the details. It was the first time he found himself torn between wanting to love the woman across from him and tearing her whole world apart.

4

Jason and Moira were asked by Travis to go to Pond Inlet located in northern Canada. There were families in need of help with what seemed an epidemic of suicides. They were told their only job was to comfort those in grief and help in getting them through the ordeal.

The team was mortified to what they saw. They couldn’t imagine poverty in a country as well off as Canada and a country where they felt their own people were cared for. Not only were they appalled by the poverty level but the lack of care given to the children. Both counselors watched in dismay as the children of the community seemed to wander aimlessly at all hours of the night.

Not just that but it appeared as if many of the kids were inadequately dressed. It appeared as though parents either couldn’t afford to clothe their children or they just didn’t care. At times, it was a combination of the two.

Jason growled. “What are we supposed to do? How can we just leave these kids like this?”

“Calm down, Jason. You know we’re not supposed to interfere. We’re just here for emotional support.” Moira knew Jason was as angry as she had been until she realized that there was nothing either one of them could do.

She knew that whatever money they gave would not end up where it was supposed to go. It was best to do what they could without using cash. Jason sighed. Without admitting she was right, he carried on with his assignment. He knew that Moira always did a little extra on the sly.

She was not the type of person who did things for notoriety. She just did the right thing because it was right. And he adored her for that. Jason knew her only reward was how she felt afterwards. She preferred hugs and kisses over fame and money.

The following day, the twosome found their way to the wellness clinic. They did their best to counsel parents, siblings and friends of those who had lost the fight by their own hand.

Many found them a comfort but a few felt that they were just non-Inuit do-gooders. People who they believed really didn’t care whether they lived or died. This hurt Moira deeply - and Jason knew this.

He also knew what would happen if something was said. Many of them would become defensive and when they became defensive, they could cause a lot more harm. That was the last thing that Travis would want, let alone what either of them wanted. It seemed to Jason that they cared little of their own well-being.

Whether or not that was the case, he never knew and was instructed not to ask. He was only allowed to question how they were doing emotionally over the loss of their loved ones. He wanted so much to know because he felt that he could help them if they would let him.

Jason came down one morning to find Moira sitting in the hotel restaurant with a handful of local children. Many of them were nine and ten years old.

She had promised them a hot breakfast on the condition that they tell her stories. She didn’t care whether they were made up or not. As long as she was entertained, they could tell her anything that came into their head.

The kids thought this was great. One youngster, Joanassie, was in the midst of a tale when Jason arrived and took a seat nearby. Moira always encouraged imagination in children. Her favorite quote was by Einstein. He once stated that imagination is more important than knowledge.

She lived by that creed. People often told her she was crazy until she explained her view. Not all were automatically convinced but once they thought about it, they realized she was right.

“If we do not imagine, then we cannot gain knowledge,” she once told a group of graduating high school students. “For with imagination comes the ideas which change the world. Maybe not necessarily for the better but for the most part, it does.

For imagination gave Bell the telephone and Edison the light bulb. If great men like these didn’t have such great creative minds, then we’d still be sending news by pony, handwritten under a crude oil lamp.”

Joanassie’s hands were flapping a mile a minute so into the story he was telling. “My dad jumped off the snowmobile and landed on a large pile of snow. He watched as it kept going and flew over the ridge. When he finally stood up to go see what happened, he let out this squeal.

He sounded like a girl! His snowmobile crashed at the bottom of the hill and smashed into smithereens. And that’s why I’m here today. ’Cause my dad was smart enough to save his own life. He said it he wasn’t chosen to die that day.”

The kids clapped and cheered. They loved stories of heroism, even if it didn’t seem all that heroic to many. By this time, they had noticed Jason, listening to their every word. “So, how about you, Mr. Bennett,” asked Joanassie. “Do you have any stories for us today? Moira’s buying if you’re telling.”

Jason grinned. “Well, how can I pass that up? Did I ever tell you guys about how I met Moira?” They all shouted no and he went into the tale at the pool. One thing Moira learned over the years, her best friend loved talking and no amount of coaxing on her part could make him stop.

Moira stopped by his hotel room one night. She was worried about his welfare. The young woman had noticed he was beginning to look worn out and drinking a bit more than usual. She knew that he was taking this assignment far more personally than usual and she was afraid that he would do something drastic.

Jason appreciated her concern and told her so but felt she was being ridiculous. He thought he was handling the situation fine.

“Shall I bring up the fact that I know you’re feeding those kids? You think that you’re so sly; you can put one over on me? I know you better than that, Moira.

I know that you feel better by putting food in their stomachs. It would be too obvious to clothe them because people would notice that all of a sudden they were wearing better outfits but feeding them is a little less noticeable. People would notice that they’re not complaining about being hungry but they wouldn’t be able to pin down where the grub came from.”

Moira scoffed. How dare he mock her feeding the needy? “So? I know for a fact you’re giving them food too. Besides, it’s not money. We promised we wouldn’t give them money. Travis would flip if he found out.”

Jason shot back, “Travis would not flip. You know how he is. He’ll be a little miffed that we didn’t follow instructions -.”

“Yes, we did - in a way,” she returned, interrupting him. “He told us not to give them money, which I have already mentioned. I have yet to give these kids a penny. Food is different. Food is a necessity.” She slapped her hands together for effect.

Jason grinned. All of a sudden, he felt better. His boss had a positive effect on him. No wonder her team was faithful to her. She had a way of caring without being outwardly sappy. Jason hated that about women.

He hated people who depended far too much on others. It made him extremely uncomfortable. He knew that Moira detested that too. In fact, she despised it. It wasn’t that she was cold and unfeeling - she just didn’t feel the need to be all touchy with people.

She was very caring - she wouldn’t be in the work she was in if she wasn’t. Jason observed her with people. She allowed them to lean on her, physically and figuratively. She had no problem with that. She had warmth about her and her kindness shone through her eyes. But she always made certain she kept a professional distance.

Children especially were drawn to her. Moira always joked that it was because she was the same height as they were. Jason knew they felt safe with her. They could tell her anything and she was willing to listen.

She would only give advice when requested. Jason believed that she knew it all even if she never acted like it. Another quality he admired. Not just in his best friend but in all people. He loathed people who saw themselves as above everyone else and tried to rub their noses in it.

“Jason? Jason! Snap out of it already,” she stated, snapping her fingers near his ears. It was the first time she had ever witnessed him zoning out. At least, the first time he ever zoned out on her. He looked at her, confused. What was she saying?

He must have drifted off in thought. It was something he had never done before, or if he had, it was not in front of his best friend. He flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, boss lady. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Best not, either,” she retorted, smiling. “Travis would not appreciate one of his top people showing signs of dementia. Not to mention how I would feel. I don’t want to be visiting you in a psycho ward.”

Jason chortled. “Maybe I should go anyway - I need a break. The people I work for are slave drivers.” He loved teasing her at every opportunity and for the most part, Moira was sport enough to take it.

Moira gave him a ‘oh, really’ look. “Sure you do. As if Travis and I are that hard on you. Anyway, like I was saying before you took your little pleasure trip, Travis called a little while ago. We’re heading back home tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, she turned and left him to pack. Jason just shook his head and laughed out loud. What else could he do? Moira loved having the final word and would stop at almost nothing to have it.

5

Jason’s grandfather decided he was going to take a day off work. Even though it was planned for the middle of the week, he needed to spend some time with the boy. Two days a week just wasn’t going to suffice

Jonas was getting on with age and he knew his health was beginning to fail. Only he and Harriet knew what was happening. They felt it was best to spare the child the news until they knew themselves what was going on and what the options available were.

Even though Jonas had been in the medical profession for many years, he didn’t always keep up with new developments. He tried the best he could but it wasn’t always possible.

He heard through the grapevine at his office that the fair was in town the following week and knew how much his young grandson loved going on the rides. So, he rearranged his schedule in order to take the day off in plans to take the boy to town.

He expected his wife to put up a fuss but she whole-heartedly backed him on his decision. “Time is not on your side, my love,” she stated. “Do what you have to do when it comes to your life and what you want to do with what’s left.”

Jonas placed a hand firmly upon Jason’s head, tilting it slightly so he could look directly into the boy’s dark brown eyes. His own light brown eyes glittered with mischief.

“What say you and me have a boys’ day out today? What do you think; are you up for it?”

Jason’s face lit up. “You mean it, Grampa?” He paused, giving his grandfather a confused look.

“But don’t you have to work?” As much as it meant for young Jason to spend the day with his grandfather, he knew Jonas took his work seriously.

It was important to Jonas for it meant in some cases saving someone’s life. Jason understood that importance and never complained about the little time he had with his grandfather.

His grandfather shook his head. “No, son, I don’t. That’s the joy of having your own practice. You can schedule personal days.” His grin was almost as wide as the youngster’s standing in front of him. Jonas wanted to spend as much time as he could with his young grandson before it was too late.

Jonas stood tall, his hands upon his hips and gazing upon the boy with fondness. Jason admired how the old man carried himself with such pride and self-confidence but with little airs about him. He knew he wanted that same poise when he was older and watched his grandfather as much as possible.

Even though he already knew the answer, Jonas asked, “So, what do you want to do?” It was the same answer every summer when he decided to take the child on an excursion.

This was the first time he took time during the week to do so. Jason appreciated Jonas making the extra effort to do something with him.

Jason didn’t even hesitate. “There’s a fair in town,” he proclaimed. “Can we go there?”

The ten-year-old loved going to the fair for it meant he could take his mind off his schoolwork and whatever issues he was having in the community. He also knew how much Jonas enjoyed the fair.

The man feigned surprise. “So you want to go to the fair, huh? Heavens to Betsy, I didn’t even realize it was in town. It’s a good thing I have you around to tell me these things. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know anything was going on.

But I suppose we can go to the fair, if that’s what you truly want to do. I don’t know if this old body can take the greasy food and rides that make my stomach churn. But if that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Yippee!” squealed Jason, jumping around and giving his grandfather hugs. He knew Jonas would agree to it but he was still excited about the trip. “Grampa, next to Granny, you’re the best.”

Jonas grinned. “Well, if I have to be second best to anybody, I don’t mind taking a back seat to Granny. So, go get ready and we’ll be on our way.” He knew Jason worshipped his grandmother and wouldn’t dream of interfering with that. He also knew he took a close second in Jason’s heart.

Harriet shook her head, pointing a gnarled finger towards her husband. “Now, Jonas, don’t you go filling that child up on French fries and burgers. If I find out he’s had more than one cotton candy, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

It didn’t bother Harriet if her husband and grandson had fatty foods once in a while but she didn’t want them to go overboard. To her, everything was to be taken in moderation.

He held her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“And you expect me to believe that, my darling? Please, I’ve been married to you long enough to know I won’t have much of an argument.

You and I both know a few indulgences every once in a while never hurt anybody. In fact, sometimes they can lead to good things.”

His wife looked at him, suspiciously. She looked over at Jason and saw the jumbled anticipation written over his face. The woman knew how much the boy looked forward to his outings with his grandfather and the last thing she wanted was to bring a damper on the festivities.

She feigned indifference; wanting the child to thing she was beaten. “Oh, okay,” she returned. “Just don’t overdo it. I don’t want a sick child coming into my house. I’m getting too old to clean up afterwards.” Jason grinned as he ran upstairs to grab his coat and sneakers.

“Yes, Mother. We’ll see you later.” Jonas gave her another quick kiss as Jason came rushing back downstairs with his jacket. He wrapped his arms around his grandmother, telling her he loved her.

Harriet returned his embrace and his sentiments. Jason reminded her of both Wade and Louisa; she felt blessed to have him in her life even if she didn’t have her son. Her grandson could not replace her child but the love she had for him was now doubled for Jason.

Jonas placed his arm around the youngster’s shoulders. He could feel the child trembling with excitement. He already knew the answer but felt obliged to ask anyway. “So, my boy, what do you want to do first?” he asked as they entered the fair grounds.

“Ferris wheel,” Jason responded without pause, pointing in the direction of the ride. “Then we can get hot dogs and then the Scrambler.” The youngster knew what he wanted to do and in what order to keep from overdoing himself.

His grandfather looked at him, beaming. “Did you have this planned out before I brought you here?” he asked, knowingly. “Again, as if I didn’t know already before we got here. You’re quite the planner, young man.”

Jason grinned. “It’s my favorite thing in the world. I love the fair and I think you like coming here too, Grampa.” The look of pure bliss on the boy’s face made Jonas happy. It was the little things that brought joy to the old man’s life.

Jonas couldn’t argue. He did enjoy the excitement of the rides and the smell of the greasy food. It was one of the few places where families could go and no one openly looked down upon people of color.

“I suppose I do but we have the entire day, my boy. We don’t need to do everything in an hour.”

“The faster we get through everything, the faster we can do it all over again,” was his response. “Like you said, we have all day, right? I think we should get in all the fun we can since Granny doesn’t let us do this very often.”

His grandfather shrugged. He did have a point. It wasn’t that Harriet disapproved of amusement and laughter for she herself was known for her robust humor. She believed everything had its place and excess of anything was sternly frowned upon.

But she also instinctively knew her husband’s time was limited and not just his free time. Jonas’ health had been failing for years but he had put on a brave face for his grandson.

The last thing he wanted was for the child to worry about losing his grandfather. He wanted to give the boy as many good memories as possible before it was his time to go.

“Okay, Jason, let’s go. I know you’re getting anxious and heaven forbid if I’m to blame for your pouting.” He chuckled as he looked down at the bundle of excitement holding his hand, urging him to hurry.

“Yippee!” exclaimed Jason as he dragged his grandfather towards the Ferris wheel. Time with Jonas meant the world to him and he treasured every moment he had with him. If the boy only knew it meant much more to his grandfather.

6

Ivan Boyd grabbed the youngster by the scruff of the neck and dragged him from under the bed. “You tell me, boy, why I shouldn’t beat the living shit outta you right here, right now!” he screamed, pinning the frightened three-year-old up against the wall. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Irving trembled. “I just wanted to help, Daddy,” stuttered the boy. His father was becoming more frustrated and angry. “I only want to be like you.” His blue eyes were filled with tears; upset because he enraged his father. All he wanted was for his father to be proud of him for actually trying to do something.

“Bullshit!” his father boomed. “If you wanted to be like me, you little piece of shit, you wouldn’t be such a fuckin’ screw-up! Do you realize how much money you’ve wasted when you destroyed all that wood? We don’t have that kinda money to throw away.”

Ivan was now looking Irving directly in the eyes. His father’s eyes were dark, foreboding. “Now, you tell me, boy, why I shouldn’t beat the crap outta you right now. You’ve been told countless times to stay away from my tools and my work area.”

“I know, Daddy, but -,” he stuttered. It appeared to the youngster the harder he tried, the harder the punishment. Nothing he ever did was good enough for Ivan.

All he wanted was his father’s approval but instead, he received fury and disappointment. Irving wanted nothing more than to spend time with Ivan but his father could care less about the child.

“I know, I heard you, you just wanted to help. Well, boy, I don’t need your kind of help. You know, you’re such a goddamn screw-up that I even wonder if yer mine or not. Maybe yer mother was running around on me.

What do ya think, boy? Am I really yer Daddy? I think I should punish yer mother for her bad behavior. Huh, what do you think?”

Ivan laughed. It was a maniacal laugh that went through Irving like a bolt of electricity. His father was continually cruel to the child. He was hateful towards the entire family but seemed to relish taking the worst of his anger out on the youngest. It seemed to give the man pleasure to torture everyone he came in contact with.

Irving was terrified of that laugh. He hated being taunted but this was his father. The man he idolized for as long as he could remember - which wasn’t long but to Irving was forever.

“Mummy would never do that!” he protested. He adored his mother as much as he did Ivan.

Ivan’s face was purple with rage. “Why you insolate little snit,” he screamed, clenching both fists. “I will ask you again; why do you think I should spare you from my beating the shit out of you?” He took one step towards his youngest son. Irving flinched and passed out from terror.

He awoke to find his mother leaning over him. Isabelle was icing down the boy’s bruises. “Hi, baby,” she spoke, quietly. He loved his mother’s voice - it had the softness of rose petals and always calmed him down. Her brilliant blue eyes always looked upon him tenderly.

“You know; you should never have back talked him. You were only going to get the whip when he came up here. You’ve only made things worse for yourself. You should give Daddy a break. He’s been having a hard time lately.”

As much as Isabelle wanted to believe that, she knew her husband far too well. Ivan may have said he was just going to whip the boy but she knew he would do far worse.

Irving’s chubby hand reached for his mother’s face. Her skin was so soft; it reminded him of the grass he often laid on as he watched the clouds overhead.

“But, he was saying bad things about you.” He didn’t like hearing dreadful things about his mother. To him, she was the kindest and gentlest person he knew. Isabelle would never do anything to harm another.

“I know, baby, but he didn’t mean it.” Her electric blue eyes tried to reassure him. Her boys were everything to her and knew Irving was the most sensitive of the three. She did everything in her power to keep him getting beaten too badly.

If she could, Isabelle would take the children and leave but was too afraid of what her husband might do. She thought Ivan would hunt them down and take their lives. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

It was then that the child noticed the purple around her eyes. “Mummy, did he hit you too?” he questioned.

Was this how he had planned to punish his mother? By beating her into submission? He hated his father at that moment. How dare he harm his precious mother!

She smiled. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mummy can handle it.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

He loved her kisses and knew that she was right. “What say we clean up the mess tomorrow just you and me?”

“Okay, Mummy, just you and me.” His mother was the best. She always found a way to make him feel special and important after a confrontation with his father. In fact, she always made certain he knew he was loved in some way.

Irving missed his mother terribly. She was the only positive thing he had in his life. He could still remember her smelling of honeysuckle.

To this day, it was his favorite flower in the world and loved the memories it triggered whenever he had scent of it even though they broke his heart.

But he also missed his father. He hated being beaten but he felt as though he deserved it. His father was right - he was a screw-up. Irving knew it was his fault his father left. Why couldn’t he be like his brothers?

He couldn’t handle having a child who could do nothing right and never failed to tell Irving that. He wished his father could only see him now; working for a big corporation and making a name for himself.

Little did Irving know - his father knew and wasn’t happy. As far as Ivan was concerned, Irving was still a screw-up. Why didn’t the bastard just kill himself already? He wasn’t doing anything important. If he was, Chance would have him doing more than just spying on some do-gooder.

Ivan Boyd had changed his looks dramatically over the years. The twenty-five years of alcohol abuse etched the lines of his face deeper than normal. He appeared years older than his fifty-five years.

He had kicked the bottle almost two years ago and was pleased about it. Money wasted was his philosophy. He still had anger boiling through his veins and pure disgust for his fellow human beings.

Although he was no longer drinking, he still had his bouts of rampage but not to the extreme it once was. Alcohol brought out the worst of it and his family suffered because of it.

If it hadn’t been for an old friend, chances were he’d be out of work, running the streets and causing havoc. His acquaintance thought that since he was going to do that anyway, he might as well get paid for it.

It also helped him keep an eye on Irving. His youngest son was the only member of his immediate family still living. He thought Irving was the most insecure of the four and it surprised him that he was the only one not to self-destruct. Maybe his son was a lot tougher than he initially gave him credit for.

Chance knew Ivan had potential. He had that seething rage bubbling inside him, eating at him to set it free. He believed that Ivan could do some serious damage with that craze. He just needed to give the man enough ammunition to set the charge.

Ivan was in love with the idea of destroying lives. He was off to a good start. He had damaged those closest in his life - Isabelle, Ian, Isaac and Irving. He was determined to push Irving over the edge.

With his appearance so drastically different from when his son last saw him, he could move about the organization and community without him ever realizing who he was. Life was so perfect at times; it frightened him but also made him deliriously happy. Ivan loved the conflict within himself. It pushed him on to be more destructive.

And Chance thought so too. Not only could he pit father against son, destroying both at the same time, but also he would be able to destroy Moira’s organization without even going beyond the lobby. He would have Moira weaken her own stable footing without her even realizing what was happening.

7

Morag gazed fondly upon her newborn son. The baby was sleeping soundly in the crib his father had made for him from scrap wood from his various construction sites. She had high hopes for her young boy.

It was her belief that any child who was born on the same day as the Savior was destined to do great things. She wished she had family around to help her with the baby but she didn’t regret the decision to leave Scotland.

Neither she nor James wanted their child to grow up with the stigma of being conceived out of wedlock. It wouldn’t be fair for him to go through life with the finger-pointing and whispers just loud enough for him to know he was the topic of conversation.

Both she and her husband knew how it felt. They wanted the best for their children and they believed they deserved to start their lives with a clean slate. They believed all children had the potential to do great things with their lives.

All they needed was to be encouraged and have positive reinforcement. It was Morag and James’ intent to bring up their children in such an environment. This was the least they could do for them. They couldn’t offer them much more. With only James employed, money was limited.

Morag had few skills to offer the labor force. At least her husband was able to work in the construction industry.

He had extensive experience in Scotland before they arrived in Toronto. James not only had his papers in welding but in carpentry as well. He enjoyed working with his hands and creating works of art.

Since arriving in Canada, he had proven himself to be one of the best in both the Welders’ Union and the Carpenters’ Union. They knew James took pride in his work and it showed in the quality of the homes he helped to produce. He wanted to pass along his work ethic to his children.

They needed to learn at an early age that nothing worth having was worth getting from the sweat of others. If it was earned, it was appreciated so much more. James also wanted to give his family memories they would cherish in the years to come.

He and Morag may not be able to give them the finer things in life but they could give them the necessities of life. It was their belief that as long as they showered their children with love, everything would be fine.

“Has he finally settled down?” asked James, stepping in behind his wife and wrapping his arms around her waist. The infant had been colicky since the day he was born and tiring both of his parents out.

Morag nodded. “Yes, finally,” she replied, wearily. “He’s definitely not going to make it easy for us.”

James laughed softly. “I wonder if Mary and Joseph had the same problem with their little miracle. Just because He was the son of God, it doesn’t mean He couldn’t give His parents cause for concern.”

His wife smiled. “I don’t think they would want mention it in the Good Book if He had been a troublesome child. It wouldn’t look good if the savior was into mischief throughout his life even if His beginnings were somewhat questionable.”

“Almost like our little one.”

Morag agreed. “Almost and I think our baby will become someone great too if he puts his mind to it. Part of me believes he’ll almost raise himself. I think he’ll accomplish a lot in his life without any help from anyone.”

“I would have to agree, my darling. He’s nearly a month old but it’s as if he’s doing everything in his power to liberate himself from depending upon us.

I’m beginning to think the colic is his way of getting even. It’s as if he can’t think of any other way to show his frustration.”

They looked upon their young son, who was displaying an annoyed look upon his tiny face. As much as they loved him, they didn’t realize they had as much resentment towards him deep within them.

8

Harriet and Jonas headed towards the Lincoln Memorial. Their sons, Wade and Tobias, followed closely behind them. All were amazed by the number of people who were in attendance. There were people of all ages and of all races coming together for a single cause.

It brought tears to the eyes of Harriet and Jonas. The March on Washington proved to them that it was possible for harmony among all people, no matter the race, creed or religion. This was the way it was supposed to be – people getting along because of who they were on the inside.

Even nineteen-year-old Wade was impressed. Growing up in downtown Toronto, he experienced discrimination first hand. He was forbidden to enter some restaurants or corner stores simply because of the color of his skin.

Not to mention the stern “request” for him to leave some of these establishments. Some owners were polite but for the majority, they made no excuses about their prejudice and did nothing to hide it.

The youngster couldn’t understand why. He never made any trouble and knew if he did, he would have to face both his parents once he came home.

Getting a beating was the least of his worries. He knew it would never happen. Harriet and Jonas Bennett were strict but refused to discipline their children through corporal punishment.

They firmly believed in their children learning by example, not by whippings. They disciplined them by giving them extra chores or making them do community service. Wade and his brother, Tobias, appreciated it. They knew many of their friends that had received the switch or even worse.

“Come along, my boys,” Harriet exclaimed, seeing that her sons were beginning to lag behind. “We don’t want to miss anything. This is part of history you’ll want to pass on to your children and I don’t want you leaving something out.”

The Bennetts were awestruck by the camaraderie of the crowd. No one was afraid to put their arms around each other. They joined in the singing and the laughter. It was one big family reunion and they loved every second of it.

The excitement thickened as Dr. King made his way to the steps of the Memorial. This was the moment they were all waiting for. By the end of the speech, not only was there a roar of cheers but there was a sea of tears.

It was at the March that Wade met eighteen-year-old Louisa Solomon. The moment he looked into her soft brown eyes, he knew that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There was peace in those eyes, a sereneness he knew he sought after for years and believed he had finally found.

Wade had spotted the young woman as she had stepped off one of the buses that had made their way to the March. She appeared hesitant and introverted but smiled freely when she caught him staring at her.

He couldn’t stop himself from doing so. She was the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. He thought she could have been a model.

Louisa was just shy of five foot nine and had dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in tiny ringlets. Her skin reminded Wade of milk chocolate without even a hint of a blemish. Her light brown eyes peered from beneath a layer of long, thick lashes.

Wade didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to the stunning woman. His face hurt from smiling so much. He couldn’t believe his good fortune in finding her. How was it possible she had no boyfriend?

The nineteen-year-old was not one to believe in fate but to meet someone like Louisa gave him pause for thought. Until that moment when their eyes met, he waved off the notion that everything happened for a reason.

His mother often told him God had a plan for everybody and there were no such things as coincidences. Now, he believed her.

Louisa experienced the same peace when it came to the young man. Wade’s big dark eyes were kind and soothing which instantly put her at ease.

Of all the men she knew in her short life, he was the only one who showed her sincere respect from the first moment. It was apparent to her that he was raised to give reverence to those around him.

Harriet saw the look upon her son’s face and nudged her husband. “I think our baby’s smitten,” she whispered as she nodded her head towards Wade. Her young son was draped over Louisa, completely enamored with the young woman.

Jonas chuckled. “Have you not met the young lady? I don’t blame the boy myself. She’s quite the stunner; just like you were at her age, Mother.” He knew he misspoke the moment the words escaped his lips.

“What do you mean by were, my husband? I think I still look fabulous,” she returned, her eyebrows raised. “You should consider yourself fortunate I let you even speak to me.” She playfully stuck her nose into the air.

He gave his wife a sloppy kiss on her cheek. His deep brown eyes gazed upon her face in reverence. “I know I’m privileged, my darling. If you only knew how much courage it took for me to even approach you in the first place.”

“I knew,” she replied, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “I made a bet with my friends to see how long it would take you to get up the nerve to ask me out.” It took everything she had not to smirk.

Her husband paused for a moment before asking, “And who won?”

“You did,” she responded, her voice laced with sarcasm. “It just so happened that I liked the cut of your jib. I could have picked anyone, my dear, but I picked you.”

Jonas laughed quietly under his breath. He couldn’t find a reason to argue with her. Harriet was a beautiful woman in her day and extremely poised. Fact was, she still carried herself well and to Jonas, was even more beautiful than the day they met.

His wife had intelligence, which intimidated the young medical student at the time, and even to this day, he believed she could have done extraordinary things with her life. Unfortunately, the woman had limited choices offered her at the time.

Even though the couple lived in a free country, they were still only a few generations out of slavery. Many people believed the only jobs the ‘coloreds’ could do involved manual labor or housework. Being a woman of color, Harriet was considered to be a few rungs lower on the ladder of abilities compared to her male counterparts.

But Harriet never complained. It didn’t bother her to be a stay-at-home mom. She believed she could do right by her children; teach them how to be good people and not judge others by their outward appearance.

It was her opinion everyone was created in God’s image and everyone was one of His children, regardless of their race, creed, sex or deformity. Harriet viewed her fellow human beings as part of her extended family. She treated all who came into her life as such and because of that, Harriet was well loved as well as well respected.

Her boys learned by her example; not only hers but by her husband’s. Jonas was a well-respected physician but earned every ounce of that respect.

The early days of his practice were tough in his attempts to gain clientele. Initially, the only people who would allow him to treat them were his fellow African Canadians and even they were few and far between.

As word spread of his mild disposition and genuine concern for his fellow human beings, Jonas found himself treating patients from all walks of life. Tobias and Wade learned from an early age how to treat others and what was sowed came back to them ten-fold

Louisa felt the same warmth radiating from the rest of the Bennett family. She never met a family who were so in tune with each other and so completely at ease around other human beings.

She was welcomed into their small circle with no questions asked. It was a feeling of acceptance she had never experienced before.

Her own family was highly dysfunctional. Louisa had become so accustomed to the craziness; she thought it to be normal. Initially, she was convinced other families were abnormal when she heard or saw the interactions between members.

Louisa and her family lived in a run-down, three-bedroom flat in Harlem. They had times in the middle of winter when they had no heat because they couldn’t afford to pay the bill. If they were lucky, they would find old blankets or sweaters that their neighbors had discarded.

She had often watched the gang activity on the street from her bedroom window. It was a way of life for many of the young males in her neighborhood. They knew nothing else and believed they had no other future.

Two of her three brothers belonged to gangs. Her youngest brother was considered too young to be initiated but they had their eye on the boy. Louisa did what she could to avoid the gangs all together but they were always around her.

Louisa knew her brothers were involved with dealing drugs and prostitution. They tried their best to recruit her but she steadfastly refused. She didn’t like what they were doing and often voiced her fears.

She wasn’t about to be drawn into the lifestyle. She wanted something better with her life. In response, her brothers would either beat her or rape her. It only made Louisa stronger in her resolve to leave the life of poverty behind.

So when Wade proposed three years later, she accepted without hesitation. She looked forward to joining the one man she met who so fully believed in the message of total peace and harmony. She wanted to be a part of a family who accepted her for who she was and not for what she can do for them.

9

Moira curled up in a corner of her sofa, wanting nothing more than for her inner demons to stop playing games with her head. She despised the constant feeling of apprehension and sadness.

She knew her mother would understand but the girl didn’t want to add to her mother’s already heavy burden. Justine had enough to deal with between her own fragile mental state and the constant barrage of abuse from Henry.

In her mind, Moira was the cause of all of her mother’s problems. The girl deduced if she hadn’t been born, her mother would be happy and would not be subjected to Henry’s tirades.

She believed it was her fault her mother’s life had turned out so horribly wrong. Justine would still be with her father and not with a man who thought women were nothing more than property to do with what he wished.

Moira could feel her chest becoming heavier with grief as she thought about the predicament they were in. If only she could bring about the tears, Moira believed the crying would make her feel better.

She absolutely hated not being able to release the pain she was feeling and didn’t understand why it was happening to her. She was at the point now where she was sad so often, she was faking being happy.

The only other emotion she seemed to exhibit was that of anger. Her stepfather had a way of infuriating the girl; she couldn’t find any other way of expressing herself. She was stubborn enough to hide her fear from him.

Giving him that satisfaction was not in her game plan. She wanted to make him angry enough to finally give up and leave but so far, Henry was proving himself to be a formidable foe.

She figured he was trying to do the same thing with her and her mother. Moira wasn’t that easy in forcing into giving up and Justine was not going to send away her daughter simply to make her husband happy. Moira turned over her to face the back of the sofa.

The pain in her chest seemed to increase with each breath she took. She prayed for the relentless weight to be lifted but it only seemed to make it worse. “Why can’t I cry?” she often asked herself, especially when she could feel the tears coming but with no results.

Justine entered the living room and became immediately concerned. She knew the signs of the inner conflicts and was far from happy her child seemed to have inherited her illness. She was hoping the girl would inherit her father’s healthy mental state.

Until this moment, Justine believed her daughter had taken after Chance because Moira refused to back down from her stepfather. It reminded the woman of how her former boyfriend would stand up to her parents and Justine found herself to be very proud of her daughter. Moira showed strength of character her mother rarely saw.

For a ten-year-old, Justine thought. She seems to know who she is and her purpose in life. She’s definitely not as insecure as I am. But seeing her child in the same state she often found herself was very disturbing to her.

She didn’t want Moira to endure the same seemingly unending anguish she had suffered with for as long as she could remember. Of all the things she could have inherited from me, she had to inherit my mental state, she thought. She took a seat next to her daughter and began rubbing her back.

“Hey, baby,” she said, softly. “What’s going on?” Justine’s instincts were to take the girl into her arms and cradle her but she knew her daughter would have no such thing. Moira was never the type of child who enjoyed being coddled.

Moira turned to look at her mother. Her eyes were red, enhancing her dark green eyes. What could she tell her to keep her mother from worrying? “Nothing, Mummy. I’m just feeling a bit sad today.”

Justine gave her a wry smile, doing her best to soothe her daughter’s mind. She knew what Moira was trying to do and fully appreciated it. What the child didn’t understand was it was part of her job to worry about her daughter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t think I can, Mummy. I don’t even know how to describe how I’m feeling or why I feel like this.”

Her mother stroked the child’s head, pushing away a few stray hairs from the girl’s face. “You know it is okay to feel sad sometimes. Even Mummy has her days of not feeling her best.”

“I know, Mummy. We can’t always be happy all the time, can we?” Moira was doing everything in her power to be strong. She didn’t want her precious mother to worry any more about her than she already did.

Justine’s smile brightened. “I never realized how perceptive you were until now. I swear if you didn’t look like me, I would think you were switched at birth.”

Moira sat up and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. Her green eyes sparkled as she spoke, “Mummy, you can always find a way to make me feel better even if you’re putting yourself down to do it.”

Justine beamed fondly upon her daughter; her green eyes gleaming. “That’s just part of a mother’s job description, my darling.”

10

Jason looked into the eyes of his beloved grandmother. Harriet Bennett looked worn for her age. The death of her youngest son and his wife tragically in a car accident took almost everything from her.

Her only saving grace was the baby. With Jason, she knew she would still have a part of her son still with her.

Jason’s survival was nothing short of a miracle. According to the police report, ten-month-old Jason should have been dead alongside his parents. The baby escaped the car accident with only a few scratches and bruises. Harriet believed this to be a sign from God.

Her young grandson was destined to do good things with his life and she was determined to raise him in that direction. And fourteen-year-old Jason wanted nothing more than to make the old woman proud of him. So being sent home from school for fighting was more devastating to Jason than it was to Harriet.

He knew he let his grandmother down. “Would you care to explain yourself, Mr. Bennett?” One thing about Harriet, she rarely lost control and she slowed to anger.

Jason knew she put her entire being into God and allowed Him to guide her emotions. Faith kept her from being critical of others and kept her focused on where she was going.

“I was trying to help one of the smaller kids, Granny. He was being picked on by one of the older guys in my class. And you always told me I should help those in need.”

In Jason’s eyes, he didn’t do anything wrong. His grandparents always taught him to stand up for those who were at a disadvantage. Harriet raised a single eyebrow. “Yes, my boy, but I also told you that fighting is never the answer. There are other ways of dealing with bullies.”

Harriet wished young Jason could have been in attendance during the March on Washington. To be able to hear Dr. King in person was beyond words. But for Harriet, witnessing Dr. King paled in comparison to the electricity in the air that day.

The camaraderie among the masses was something she had never experience before in her life up to that point or since. What she couldn’t quite comprehend was if people can be more than civil at an event such as this, then why couldn’t they be civil in their everyday activities?

She knew progress had been made but they were still many years from the dream of Dr. King. Harriet didn’t kid herself; she knew she wouldn’t see total harmony within her lifetime. In fact, she doubted even Jason would ever see it but she had high hopes he would at least be able to see the gap narrow before his time on earth was finished.

Jason appreciated where his grandmother was coming from. She only wanted the best for the teenager and truly believed he was destined to do great things with his life. His grandmother would accept no less than his best effort and detested the word fail.

Nobody every failed if they did everything in their power to succeed. Harriet understood the power of making mistakes. Both she and her husband strongly believed one learns more from their mistakes than if they completely comprehended everything thrown their way.

Failure to the Bennett family meant not living up to one’s potential. They put themselves to a higher standard than many of their counterparts. They did not want to settle for what the rest of the world expected from them. Too many of their friends fell into the trap, ending up working dead-end jobs, on welfare or hustling people on the street.

They knew they could do better with their lives and were fully supported by the rest of the family. If they were ridiculed by their friends for doing so, those friends were no longer a part of their circle.

The last thing they needed was to be surrounded by negativity. By doing so, they could filter out who their true friends were and who were trying to keep them down.

“Like letting the Lord guide me?” he remarked, sarcastically. He regretted it the moment the words escaped his lips but it was too late to take them back. He only hoped he wouldn’t be too harshly punished for it. If he could only learn to think before he spoke.

“Boy, don’t you give me any lip,” she returned, her brown eyes turning black and pointing her finger at him. Sauciness was frowned upon in her house and she would not have disrespect from anyone but especially not from her grandson. Harriet raised the boys to be respectful of others and when they showed such signs of disobedience, it was a slap in the face to her.

Jason knew he crossed the line and his chest felt heavy. Although Harriet never laid a hand on him, the boy felt as much pain when she gave him that disapproving look. He hated that look. When his grandmother gave him that particular look, Jason knew he was in trouble.

His eyes welled as he looked into hers. “I’m sorry, Granny, but I just couldn’t let that little guy get beat up. I’d rather them take it out on me instead. It was the only thing that seemed fair.

You always told us to help those who couldn’t help themselves.” The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his grandparents but wanted to protect those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.

Harriet sighed. Jason was a good kid with a big heart and only had the best of intentions. He was right in saying she wanted him to help the less fortunate. Still, she could not condone violence even in defense of another.

She wanted her grandson to fight battles with his head, not his fists. There were ways for the boy to protect his friend without the fisticuffs. He could have stepped in between and made someone go for help among others.

But Harriet knew her grandson was living in a different time then back in her day. If he didn’t stand up for himself, he could have been stabbed or shot. Fortunately for Jason, this time only involved fists.

Otherwise, two boys could have been seriously injured or dead and the last thing Harriet wanted was to attend the funeral of her grandson. It still pained her about the loss of her son. She didn’t want to lose her child’s child on top of that

She didn’t want her grandson to be seen as a stereotypical black man who resorted to hostile behavior to resolve disputes. She believed in King’s philosophy of peaceful protests and peaceful resolutions.

As much as she hoped he wouldn’t go through it, Harriet knew he would experience racism and there was nothing she could do about that. All she could do was guide him through it to the best of her ability. She wanted him to know that he would face such ignorance throughout his life but also he would experience people who cared more about his character than the color of his skin.

“Look, honey, I’m disappointed but I understand. I’m proud you stood up for someone who couldn’t defend himself. Just next time, please find another way to handle the situation without your fists.” She gave him another firm look and informed him he would be volunteering at the community center for the next two weekends as punishment.

The boy was relieved. He knew from those he went to school with, he could have gotten far worse. He had seen his classmates come in with bruises on their face and barely able to sit because they had been spanked so severely.

Many of his friends told him of ‘getting the switch.’ Jason was thankful his grandmother did not believe in corporal punishment.

Jason threw his arms around his grandmother’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks, Granny, I knew you’d be cool,” he shouted. He appreciated getting off with such a light sentence for the incident.

“Aren’t I always?” she returned, hands outstretched.

11

Moira had just finished stretching when Jason appeared at the door of her private dance studio. Her mother had it installed in the home before she was born. Moira had often watched Justine as she practiced intricate footwork and she wanted her mother to show her how to do the steps.

When the girl showed more than a passing interest in learning, Justine was more than happy to teach her. She was surprised of her daughter’s raw talent and ability. She caught on quite quickly. She was soon improvising routines and putting on impromptu recitals for her mother.

Jason watched as Moira shuffled through a few jazz and tap steps. “If you think I’m doing that, you’d better think again.” Her best friend had many talents, but dancing was not among them. He much preferred to watch others perform dance routines, especially his best friend.

Moira grinned, slapping her best friend playfully on his cheek. “If you think I’m going to teach you, you’d better think again.” She spun around, tapping her way to the stereo. “Besides,” she added, slipping in a CD, “you have two left feet and no rhythm at all. I’d have an easier time teaching a monkey to sing.”

“No respect from my friends. No respect at all,” he joked, imitating Rodney Dangerfield. Jason enjoyed impersonating comedians of all genres, using certain quips at whatever time it seemed appropriate. He knew the wisecracks often kept him from getting in trouble.

“Okay, Rodney, whatever.” Moira started the music, doing a quick run through of the routine. She had adapted it from the one her mother choreographed for the two of them. Doing the routine kept her mother close to her.

Justine could see her daughter studying her intently. The young child was taken by her mother’s ease of movement. Moira wanted to move like that. She wanted her mother’s grace and dignity.

“Do you want me to show you how to do this?” Moira’s face lit up, quickly jumping to her mother’s side. “Okay, baby, but you have to warm up first.”

The girl followed Justine, intent on doing her mother proud. She was proud. Justine was impressed by her daughter’s eye for detail and her ability to learn difficult steps quickly. Finally, something of her showed up in the child - the love of dance.

Justine decided to choreograph a dance for the two of them. She chose the song that meant the most to her - “My Girl” by the Temptations. Chance sang it to her often. She loved listening to him sing as much as he adored watching her dance.

She, herself, couldn’t carry a tune. Not that it ever bothered her. The fact that she had her dancing was good enough for her. Talent and the arts were not things that her family encouraged although they often pretended they appreciated it when in fact, they thought it was something to be collected and shown off.

Dancing was her thing and no one could take that away from her. Justine invited her aunt and uncle over one afternoon when Henry was out of town visiting relatives. They gave the duo a resounding ovation. Her uncle had recently bought himself a video camera and the impromptu recital gave him an excuse to try it out.

Moira treasured the copy he had given them. It helped remind her how her mother moved and how she looked. She didn’t miss Justine as much whenever she watched the tape.

Jason knew she missed her mother terribly. She never spoke of how she died. She only said that Justine died tragically. But Jason knew what had happened. He heard about the trial when he and his grandmother were in Nova Scotia on vacation that summer. He had forgotten about it until he met her at college a few years later.

Reading the details gave him a new-found respect for the life he had. He was fortunate to have a family he truly loved him and worried about his welfare.

Her name nagged at him until he had to find out who she was. He scoured the archives until he found the court transcripts. He found a new respect for his best friend.

She showed grace and perseverance through such trying times. And to this day, Moira never complained. The past was done and over with. No wonder she never wanted to discuss her childhood.

He didn’t blame her. He promised himself that if she ever wanted to open up to him, he would be there for her. But she never did confide in him and as far as he knew, she confided in no one period.

Moira seemed to take everything in stride. Granted, she was easily agitated but when she did lose her temper, it generally left as quickly as it came. And the only thing that seemed the worse for it was the recipient’s ego.

Jason knew if he went through what she had, he wouldn’t be so easy-going either. Moira stood tall despite it and he was proud to call her his friend. He gazed at her as she went through the “My Girl” routine one last time. He knew it was special to her.

He had watched the video one weekend while she was away. As a surprise for her birthday, he had several copies made for her. The original had begun to wear from her watching it so much.

Moira tapped his head. “Mr. Bennett? Are you in there? This is the second time I’ve caught you taken a little pleasure trip. I’m beginning to worry about you, my friend.”

She was grinning from ear-to-ear, trying her best not to laugh but losing the battle. It wasn’t very often she was able to tease him about anything.

He grinned. “Yeah, I’m here. Had a quick vacation but I’m back. Sometimes, I just need to get away, ya know.” Thankfully, Moira didn’t know about the ones he had when she wasn’t around.

“I wouldn’t be taking too many of those trips if I were you. I’d hate to have you committed,’ she teased, her green eyes sparkling. If he knew about her own little excursions, she would be razzed twice as much.

Not that she really cared about the teasing. She could take good natured ribbing. No one could ever accuse her of not being able to take as much as she gave out. Fair was only fair.

“Yeah, but you’d miss me,” he teased. “You’d miss me so much that you’d have yourself committed just to be near me.”

Moira tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself. She shook her head until she could regain her composure. “You’re such a retard, Jason. I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.”

The grin on his face widened. If only this play fight was being seen by their co-workers. It was a waste otherwise. Their squabbles meant nothing unless there were witnesses to appreciate them. “I’m the only one who’ll put up with that attitude of yours.”

“Me? Have an attitude? I don’t think so, buddy. I think you’ve got that backwards, Jason,” she sneered. “You wouldn’t have a social life if it weren’t for me.”

He let out a mock cry of dismay, clasping his hand to his heart and feigning a heart attack. “Now I know you’re out of your mind. I’d have a life if people didn’t think we were a couple.”

Moira stood with her fists on her hips, faking surprise. “Who’d be stupid enough to think that? Like either of us would be interested in the other one.” This comment hurt Jason more than he cared to admit but he wasn’t about to let on his feelings had been wounded.

If she only knew how much he wanted to be with her as more than just best friends. His face looked around the room, pretending not to have heard the question. “You know; you should really do something about the paint job in here.”

“Okay, Jason, I get the picture.” She paused long enough to change the music. She had to get one more jab in before letting the subject drop. “It’s not like you’d know what to do with me anyway.”

12

Chance called Irving into his office. He was getting frustrated with the young man’s constant screw-ups. The only reason he had kept young Irving this long was that his mistakes made people’s lives more miserable than if he actually followed directions.

Irving waited impatiently in Chance’s front office. He just wanted his boss to call him in and get it over with. He hated this dillydallying. At least with his father, his punishments were swift and there was no waiting to know what was going to happen.

Chance knew that patience was Irving’s nemesis, which was why he deliberately made him stew. Chance took great pleasure in watching people squirm. And he especially took delight when it benefited him.

Irving was finally allowed into Chance’s inner office. Chance was a striking figure standing at his window. Irving was suddenly petrified. He was never afraid of his boss before. Intimidated, definitely, but not afraid. “Have a seat, Mr. Boyd.” Even his calm voice was terrifying

Irving quickly took the chair being offered. He could feel his heart palpitate inside him at a racing pace. Chance remained focused on the window as he asked, “Do you know why you’re here?”

The young man paled. He knew he was in trouble but wasn’t certain of why. “No, sir, not really, but I do have an idea.” He quickly sat on his hands to keep from trembling. Irving was terrified by the calmness of his boss’s voice.

Chance slowly turned to face him. Irving’s body froze with the look of contempt upon his boss’s face. “You have an idea, Mr. Boyd? That’s a new one when it comes to you. Please, enlighten me. What are your thoughts?”

He hesitated, knowing his boss’s temper. Irving knew of rumors surrounding the punishment handed out by Chance and he didn’t want to anger him any more than he already was.

How could he answer him without igniting his fury? Maybe the truth would be the antidote. “Well, sir, I think that I’ve been screwing up -.”

Chance flipped, swiping at his desk and sending items flying everywhere. “Think you’ve been screwing up? Think you’ve been screwing up, Mr. Boyd?

Screwing up is a god-damn bloody understatement, Mr. Boyd! If things hadn’t worked out in spite of your blundering, you would have been out of a job months ago.

But because things just happened to work out better in the end is the only reason you’re still around. You should have been able to infiltrate Moira’s organization by now.

But no, because of the scene at her home, I can’t use you as much as I would’ve wanted to. I’m going to have to send someone in your place.

I don’t like screw-ups, Mr. Boyd. It ends up costing me money and I don’t like losing money. Right now, the way I see it, you’re nothing but a fucking screw-up. Do you understand me?”

Irving nodded, beaten. His boss was right - he was a total screw up. Chance wasn’t the first one to point that out to him and it was pretty much guaranteed he wouldn’t be the last. It was something he had become accustomed to hearing.

“Mr. Boyd, I think you should take a few weeks’ vacation. Go away. Somewhere far from here so I don’t have to see you around until I’ve calmed down. I don’t want to know where you go because if I want you bad enough, I know I can find you. Now, please leave. I have some cleaning up to do.”

Irving thought against asking Chance exactly how much time he should take. He knew that his boss would notify him when he was needed - or wanted - back at work. He quickly left the office and found his way back home.

He was frustrated and angry. He knew that he had no one else to blame but himself. He messed up, not his co-workers. And definitely was not his boss. In Irving’s eyes, Chance was perfect.

Chance reminded Irving of his father. Irving idolized his father in every way, much in the same way he looked up to Chance. Irving barely remembered his father. The man left his mother when he was very young. His father had a quick temper - very much like Chance.

And like Chance, his father hated incompetence. He demanded that his wife and children have goals and standards that would be far too high, even for the most capable of individuals. Unfortunately, no one in the family could live up to his standards. In the end, he couldn’t deal with their inadequacies and he left.

Irving was never able to overcome his father’s disappointment in him. Subconsciously, this was the factor in why he was trying so hard to impress Chance. The same feelings of ineptness overcame him whenever his boss dragged him into the office.

The young man just wanted his efforts to be acknowledged and he took what scraps of encouragement he could. Even words that, to self-confident people sounded vague or degrading, Irving could twist around to suit his flailing ego.

He now had to figure out where he could go. He actually felt like just staying at his apartment. But he knew Chance. He knew that if he didn’t get out of town, his boss would find ways of destroying what was left of his well-being.

And the last thing he wanted to do was to disappoint Chance - again. He eventually found himself at the airport but still had no idea where he was headed. He figured that he would have some sudden inspiration and just leave.

Knowing it was spring break for many students, he decided against going the typical southern United States and other tropical spots where they would hang out. He settled on going overseas.

He always made certain his passport was current in the slim possibility that his boss needed him to work outside the country. He boarded a plane to Paris and half way through the flight began to relax.

It was then that he spotted Jason and Moira. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? He was sure that he would have remembered seeing them at the airport.

Maybe Chance was right - he wasn’t cut out to be a spy. Even a bad spy would have known that they were there. Moira seemed to be in good spirits, laughing lightly at whatever Jason was saying.

He didn’t understand their relationship. He knew that Moira was the supervisor but it was as if the two of them had a deeper level of understanding. They had what he wanted with Chance. They were kindred spirits and seemed to know what the other was thinking.

Irving found the young woman extremely attractive even dressed as casually as she was and wearing no makeup. He felt most women needed to be made up but Moira was the exception. She could pass easily without it.

It was then he realized if he had noticed them, no doubt they knew he was also on the flight. He hoped that they wouldn’t get the wrong idea. He definitely wasn’t following them nor had he any interest at the time to do so. He was right.

The pair had noticed him when he first arrived at the airport. They had hoped he wasn’t trailing them but they knew that Irving wasn’t bright enough to keep tabs on them long enough to learn anything.

Jason cocked his head towards young Irving. He had spied the young man earlier on but simply put him out of his mind until that moment.

“So, what do you make of him?” he asked. Irving rubbed him the wrong way but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason as to why.

Moira shrugged. “I think the poor guy needs help. I’ve seen him around since the party. He strikes me as someone looking to get attention and doesn’t care what kind he gets. The poor guy probably had a pretty horrific childhood.”

“I know the story quite well. I’ve seen it in the office so many times and it’s heartbreaking. Father leaving, mother drinking, child gets emotionally scarred for life. I feel for him; I do but it makes me grateful for the life I’ve had.”

Jason took a quick glance over his shoulder. Irving appeared to be sleeping. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Irving just wanted to do evil. But chances were that Moira was right, as usual. He wanted someone to pay some attention to him.

Moira had also taken a quick look. “Yeah, baby, me too.” Her big heart felt sorry for Irving. She wanted to help him but knew he wouldn’t get the help he needed until he was ready to receive it.

They decided that their first day in France would be a rest day after the long flight. Jason knew that Moira enjoyed visiting museums and landmarks so the recuperation day would be needed.

He knew how much she liked history and how much it fascinated her. The affinity she had for the City of Lights was beyond his comprehension. She had tried to explain it to him on more than one occasion but it just went over his head.

Paris had several historical spots and the first few days of their visit, Moira would be dragging him with her. Not that there would be much resistance. He enjoyed finding out about the past as much as she did.

He had known from early on that people would be wiser if they had learned from the mistakes of their ancestors. But he also knew that most were doomed to repeat history - even the brightest of these individuals.

Moira led Jason into the Louvre. It had taken some doing on her part but he finally agreed to go. “Why is it that all women feel the need to splatter their faces with makeup?” he asked when they were gazing upon the Egyptian carcasses.

She huffed. “So guys like you will notice us. I thought it was common knowledge. You don’t think we women enjoy putting that crap on our faces, do you? Making our skin break out? Or making it dry and crack?”

“Guys like me look for the inner beauty,” he snapped back. Then he paused for a moment. She had a point.

“But the outer beauty works too. I guess you’re right. You do what ya gotta do to bring us in. Does it really do that?”

Moira nodded. “It really does that. Why do you think I don’t wear it?”

She hated having to put it on in the morning only to remove it again at night. It was a waste of time as far as she was concerned. She knew of women who couldn’t even leave their homes without having make-up on.

He shrugged. It wasn’t something he really put a lot of thought into. He just believed some women needed to wear it. “I thought it was because you looked better without it. What do I know?”

“Suck up,” she grinned, rolling her eyes. “Come on. I want to make a stop at the gift shop before we leave.” She yanked on his jacket, leading him down the hall.

She loved picking up souvenirs from every place she visited and she didn’t want to waste time doing it. Moira always knew what she wanted and spent as little time as possible shopping.

“Yeah, well, just make sure you don’t get stopped this time. I don’t want to be bailing you out of jail for not answering a few, simple questions about your stay in Gay Paree,” he joked

Moira pulled a face at him. “You’re so funny, Jason. I’ll be sending them over to you if they stop me so don’t embarrass me. And trust me; I won’t need any extra incentive to do it.”

Moira loved Paris. She had been here before on a school trip when she was a teen. Her dream had finally come true.

Her two roommates on the trip were ahead of her leaving the gift shop. They waited patiently in the lobby while she purchased her postcards. An older gentleman stopped her as she was leaving.

Her body froze. Did she do something wrong? She was on automatic freak-out. Any time someone approached her, she was instantly suspicious. “As-tu arle le francais, mademoiselle?” he questioned in broken French.

She nodded, although her grasp of the language was limited. What did this guy want? Why her? What did she do and why was he prolonging this? “Oui, monsieur mais je suis une Canadienne anglaise.”

He smiled, somewhat relieved. He saw the tenseness in her face and body language. He did what he could to alleviate some of the girl’s nervousness. “Relax, miss, I just want to ask a few questions.”

Her brow knitted, confused and distrusting of the man standing before her. “What for?” she asked, automatically on the defensive.

She knew she did nothing wrong. Was she being blamed for someone else’s error in judgment? Why was she being accused? Was it because she was a teenager?

“I work for the museum, miss. They’ve hired me to question patrons of their little gallery.” He crossed his arms loosely, trying not to intimidate her any more than she already was. “It won’t take long. I promise.”

She sighed. She hated being questioned. Even small, insignificant surveys like this. They gave her a bad taste in her mouth, reminding her of events that she would rather forget. “Oh, okay,” she answered, reluctantly.

He was right about it not taking long. He had asked her why she was in Paris, how long she was going to be there and if she was enjoying herself. She was relieved that he never asked for her name.

She would have drawn the line on that one. He didn’t seem interested in anything personal. She answered him truthfully.

She was in Paris on a school trip and they were going to be there for ten days. And yes, she was enjoying herself very much. And to that point in time, she was. If she only knew what was yet to come.

Jason was waving his hand in front of her face. “Hello, Earth to Moira. Come in, Moira. Do you read me?” he was chanting. It was the first time he had witnessed her in such a trance.

“Huh? What?” she answered. She didn’t realize that she had zoned out and was thoroughly embarrassed by it. She had never been caught in one of her daydreams before. “You’re not funny, Jason.”

He tossed his head arrogantly, pretended to be offended. “Maybe not to you, boss lady, but that doesn’t really bother me. I’m funny to those who count.”

She clucked her response. “Yeah, but it seems to be only to your fellow eight-to-ten-year-olds.” Although Jason had a rapport with age groups, he seemed to fit right in with the pre-teen group.

“Your fellow eight-to-ten-year-olds,” he mimicked. He motioned his head to leave. His stomach was in charge now. Moira let out a huge sigh and reluctantly followed. They were having lunch at a small bistro downtown when they spied Irving.

He was trying his best not to be noticed but as usual, he wasn’t very good at it. Chance had his work cut out for him if he was grooming Irving in his likeness. The young man fidgeted a lot and tried too hard to fit in with those around him.

Irving knew he stood out. Most people in the café were in groups. He was used to being alone. He didn’t mind that - he rather liked being by himself. This was the first time he ever felt lonely. And he hated it.

He had figured out by then that Jason and Moira were on vacation. He didn’t think that was so strange. What he couldn’t figure out was why two people who worked together and had no romantic involvement with each other would want to go away together. Especially two people who seemed to come from two different worlds.

Irving couldn’t understand how a black man and a white woman could get along so well and not seem to care about the color of their skin. What he couldn’t see was that Moira and Jason really didn’t care. They were more interested in similar personalities rather than the color of people’s skin.

The young man had no friends and, in his own tormented way, thought that no one else really did either until now. It was obvious that the two he trailed all morning were the best of friends.

He was now beginning to see things differently. He still wanted to work for Chance but he also wanted something else. A part of him was eating at him but he didn’t know what it was.

“Come on, Jason, ignore him. Don’t let him get to you. He’s a loner and will probably always be one until he decides to knock that chip off his shoulder.

Until then, we can’t help him. Anyway, I have something to ask you. Did I ever tell you I believe in reincarnation?”

Jason raised his eyebrows, not in shock but in ‘my boss has finally lost her mind.’ “Nnno,” he dragged. “Did I ever tell you I’m into sacrificing virgins for the betterment of the world?”

She let out an exasperated breath. “Come on, Jason, I’m serious.” The pained look upon her face told him she was not kidding around. It also told him that his comment hurt her. She didn’t have to say anything for her feelings to be known. The look in her eyes said it all.

He leaned across the table and stared directly into her eyes. “You are serious. What brings this on?” He always wanted to hear her theories on religion and forces of the universe. For the most part, they were insightful but sometimes, Moira seemed to be a little bit out there in her beliefs.

Not that he faulted her for that. He knew she was open to hearing out all sides of an argument before she made a decision. Sometimes she changed her mind but more often than not she didn’t.

But she always let people state their opinions, even if she didn’t always agree with them. And she never liked them less for expressing themselves. Most people loved that about her. Especially Jason but he could never tell her the truth.

She shrugged, scrunching her nose. “You remember me telling you about my first trip to Paris? Obviously you do or you wouldn’t have mentioned the gift shop incident.”

“Yeah, and?” Jason wondered where this was going and as with most curious minded individuals, he wanted to get to the point as quickly as possible. Moira drove him crazy, drawing out her point. He knew she did it on purpose, just to push his buttons.

She hesitated. “Well, I don’t think it was. When I had stepped off that plane, it was as if I was coming home after a long trip away. I knew how to find places by the shortest route.”

Jason huffed, pretending to be unimpressed. If anything, Moira impressed him in everything she did. Once she put her mind to something, there was no stopping her. “Who’s to say you didn’t memorize every map before you left?” he teased.

“Don’t be daft,” she snorted in response. “Besides, you know I have no use for maps. I’m not that organized.”

Moira knew she had a reputation around the office for having a highly efficient system in place to locate client files, she had plans for everything and everything and they had yet to see any of them fail. She knew where everything and everyone was at any given moment.

Jason stared back at her. His arm was propped against the back of his chair. A glass of beer hung lightly upon his fingers. This was the first McDonald’s he had ever visited that actually served alcohol. He was beginning to like the French.

“So, where are you going with this, Moira? If you are a reincarnation, who were you before?” He expected something like Joan of Arc or Florence Nightingale. Her answer shocked him and nothing ever shocked Jason.

“Napoleon Bonaparte,” she responded, curtly. Her face took on a smug appearance as she watched her friend digest the revelation.

“What? No offhand remark? No what the hell are you talking about? No you’re crazy, Moira? No are you out of your cotton-pickin’ mind? Don’t you think I have my domineering disposition for a reason?”

He grinned as he took a gulp of beer. “I just figured you liked being a bitch. You’re the one who enjoys being in charge of everything and bossing people around.

Heaven forbid if you have to be a follower in anything. You would just lose your mind, girlfriend.”

She feigned dismay and slapped him lightly on the hand. How dare her best friend call her bossy! “Oh, you dirty dog! My nerves! And to think all these years you lusted after my dominatrix persona.”

“I do,” he answered, leaning across the bistro table. If she only knew he actually did lust after her. “I just didn’t want you to get a big head and think that you can get any man you set your pretty little eyes on.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What makes you think I don’t now?” she snapped back, smugly. She didn’t, but she enjoyed carrying on with her best friend.

Moira never considered herself one of those women who could string along many men by her mere looks. Even if she could, her personality would never allow her to do so.

“Because, my dear Moira, I know. If you only realized how pretty you really are, you might get laid once in a while. God knows you need to release some tension.”

Then again, he needed an outlet too. “So, Napoleon, you say? Almost makes sense.”

“Meaning what?” she answered, sipping her tea. She knew instantaneously what his response would be. She knew Jason far too long not to know what was coming her way. He enjoyed comparing her with many weird and wonderful things but in an offbeat thread.

Jason let out a deep breath as he pretended to think of what to say and how to say it. “Since you asked, my dear Moira, I will answer you.

I always have to have an answer for you mostly because I’m scared of what you might do if I didn’t. As you well know, you’re both short, no offense.”

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.10.2022
ISBN: 978-3-7554-2224-2

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