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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
I truly hope this is worth your time. As with other parts, I have been ‘borrowing’ again. In this installment, it’s mostly from a song from Faith Hill called ‘Stronger’. What can I say, it just fit Miss Parker’s mood. She told me she wanted it, and she always gets what she wants!
My beta-reader, who remains hidden, had worked overtime, big thanks!.
Oh, and big thanks to another nice angel for the mental road-map!
Souls of the Departed
Miss Parker had no eyes for the area she passed. It was beautiful farm country: endless fields along the road and nice farmhouses every once in a while.
She crossed the bridge and cursed once more her fate of having a sports-car and always ending up in huge traffic jams. Not that she was in a huge hurry. She just loved to drive her Boxter to its limits, which was always beyond any speed-limit laws.
Her first instinct was to go as far away as possible. Take a plane to California, to Mexico. Or better: to Brazil or somewhere in Europe. Well, Australia was tempting.
That was why she was heading towards the Airport, only to change her mind on a whim. She suddenly despised the idea of sitting in a plane beside some smug, overconfident businessman. who who’d think he could get lucky with her. Even if this was not the case, she still craved for some time alone - not lonely, alone. She’d been lonely for quite some time. Alone…well, she looked forward to a moment alone.
She decided to go by car first. But she had to leave her own vehicle behind. That one was clear. So she paid cash in advance for 1000 miles -- and then some -- at the car rental at Baltimore International Airport.
With every intention to drive just ahead -- north, south, and better yet, west -- she put in an old favourite CD of hers with some great songs that felt as if they were written for long rides in a car - though certainly no "trucker-songs" - and stepped on the accelerator.
But just after the third song was fading into oblivion and the fourth was starting with a nice upbeat, she realized she was neither going south nor north, and certainly not west. The road sign, illuminated by her own car-lights, told her that she was about two hours away from the capital of greed, politics, secrets and rumours: the capital of the nation.
In all truth she knew that the capital of greed, politics, secrets and rumours was actually a building on the shores of the tiny, often forgotten, state of Delaware. But what the heck?
While being somehow surprised at her own unconscious move, she suddenly realized: it was not physical distance she needed. That meant nothing. It did not matter if she put five or six states or an ocean or a galaxy between her and Delaware. It was the mental distance she needed, and this was much more difficult to reach. There was a huge difference between falling off the radar and cutting all the emotional ties.
She had said her goodbyes to Sydney and Broots. She knew she momentarily fell out of character with that. But she felt she had to. She owed it to them.
After almost three hours of driving - traffic WAS a bitch - Parker made her way from the outer beltway into central Washington.
She slowly made it through the crowded streets, and, at each traffic light watched the people as they went about their daily routines. She was enthralled by the beauty of the buildings.
But her destination was someplace else. Steering her car into the circle, she took the fourth exit up northwest. Most streets were named after the equivalent of either a number or an alphabetic character. But somehow, despite all her intelligence, she still had problems grasping the system in this town. Here, the streets were numbered according to what was supposed to be the center and leading like sunrays in all directions.
Thank God this area had more ‘real’ street names and she knew where she was heading. Otherwise she would be driving in circles and, sure as hell, end up right in front of the building that was known to house the president and in the middle of what was now a security precaution!
That meant they would scan her car, check her ID and her person until she’d go stir crazy and pick a fight that would definitely get her into custody.
Turning from 18th on to Ontario Road she realized she had almost arrived, remembering her time here way back when she was still in college. She had gone down here from Princeton with two friends to party and enjoy the city. They had quickly realized it was sheer luck that brought them there. Good food, good music, lots of fun, lots of drinks and a nice cheap place to stay.
Nothing fancy, nothing like the places she was accustomed to staying at. But, she decided, it had sufficed then, so it will certainly suffice now.
Parker had to drive around two blocks, for the residential area was all one-way. Apprehension crept up inside her at the probability of getting a parking space at this late hour. She started to curse at all those stupid people who apparently did not know how to park a car. Small Toyota hatch-backs that could fit into her purse used up valuable parking space for two Buick-sized vehicles.
Finally she got lucky. Taking out all her possessions, she had to walk five minutes back to the place she had planned to stay at. She had made a phone call from a gas station only twenty minutes before and had made the reservations, using a false name, of course.
Not really expecting to get anything, lady luck struck again, and provided her with a place to stay for five weeks. This place offered rooms mostly for weeks at a time, and as the owner told her on the phone, their guests apparently were business or government people who had to stay in town for a while. She had not expected to get a room at such short notice, but it seemed that October was not a busy time.
Parker took the keys to her room that went under the name of Celia Reed. Not very original she knew, but that was the idea. Mr. Ledeen, the owner, showed her around. There were two houses; each had seven guest rooms. After taking over the place a year ago, he had invested and renovated both buildings. The building she was in still had the kitchen from back then and guests had the opportunity to use the appliances. Both houses had a large living room. They looked nice, warm and welcoming. She was sure the guests that lived there for any amount of time were enjoying themselves, watching Television and socializing.
Parker herself had no plans to do just that, but still, the idea seemed nice. The advantage this place had to hotels was its normalcy. Nobody would have ever thought to look for her in the residential part of town that was called Adams Morgan -- famous for all its Jazz music and international cuisine.
**************
Celia Reed spent most of the time in her room, the first days even skipping breakfast. Around noon she went out, strolled around for an hour or two -- staying in the general area -- and then went back to her place. She needed the time for herself. She had a lot to think about. What would she do? Where to go from here? Would they be looking for her? Would Lyle send teams after her?
And the eternal question, that always seem to linger in the back of her mind. What would HE think, now that he must have realized she was gone? Perish the thought she reminded herself angrily. This was not about HIM. This was for her.
On the third day she realized she had walked as far as Dupont Circle. There was a nice bookstore, ‘Kramerbooks’, where she acquired half a dozen books. One she even read then and there. They had a coffee corner there, and she enjoyed herself immensely.
The weather was fantastic for this time of the year: sunny and warm. The days were clear and bright. She loved it. She had light meals during lunchtime and went to dinner every night at a different place. Mexican, Korean, Italian, Japanese, Cuban, Jamaican -- all of the world’s best food on one street.
A few times she went out. There were so many nice jazz bars with live music. She loved that: having a few drinks, enjoying a light buzz and brushing off the men who were hitting on her.
Once or twice she was tempted though.
She missed company, male company. It had been too long since she had last been with a man. She missed the sex and she missed intimacy.
She was well aware of the difference. She had had a lot of sex in her life, but intimacy she had experienced only once. It was the kind of emotional connection that arose when two people really ‘feel’ rather than just ‘get on with it’. It was when the feelings of the other are as important as your own; when your first thought is always to make sure the other is enjoying every single moment, and your own satisfaction only second to that.
Most of her life she was satisfied with what she got. She got what she wanted when she took a man into her bed.
After Tommy all that had changed. Parker was truly and utterly afraid that what she had with Tommy was lost to her forever. Nobody was like him. She had loved him, opened up to him and he had shown her what it was truly like to be intimate, to make love rather than just have sex.
Parker sat in a sofa in her room. She held her favourite picture of her mother in her left hand. In her right she held a Scotch that she had bought earlier in a liquor store.
If she had any regret, any regret at all at her choice, then it was that she did not finish her mother’s plan. She had never found out about the real plan. It was probably her mother’s eternal quest of rescuing all the children, maybe even a plan to destroy the Centre once and for all. She did not know.
She felt miserable at the thought that she had left her little brother in their evil hands. Why hadn’t she thought of that when talking to Lyle? God, what would happen to that little innocent life?
She hoped her other brother, Ethan -- wherever he was -- was free and able to live at least half a happy life. If anyone could find him, Jarod could. Jarod would find him eventually.
Jarod. The other unresolved thing she had a lot of trouble coping with.
God, is there any possibility that thoughts about him would not haunt her?. An image of his face would creep up in her mind ever so slightly, at least five times a day. The picture would be either his face of eternal pain and sorrow in the limousine on the tarmac in Glasgow or the face he made just before he leaned in to kiss her in front of the fire on the island.
But there was no denying the facts. All those years, she just wanted to be free. But there was no freedom where she was. No freedom with him. There was no wishing on the stars, no reason to believe. After all these years she finally understood.
She needed to cut all the ties, including the ties to him, whatever they were. This was what they both needed. Space for both of them, some silence at last. Even if it would break her, it would better, for both of them. At the end they would be stronger.
It was such a devastating thought that she had lost him too now, but she knew she had done the right thing.
It hurt like hell.
She had not said goodbye to him, and that had been the hardest part. All her life, all the people she cared for, had gone without a chance of saying goodbye. And now she had done the same thing.
But all this was out of her hands now. She had made her choice, for good or for bad. Now it was her time to live her life, whatever that meant.
My beta-reader, who remains hidden, had worked overtime, big thanks!.
Oh, and big thanks to another nice angel for the mental road-map!
Souls of the Departed
Miss Parker had no eyes for the area she passed. It was beautiful farm country: endless fields along the road and nice farmhouses every once in a while.
She crossed the bridge and cursed once more her fate of having a sports-car and always ending up in huge traffic jams. Not that she was in a huge hurry. She just loved to drive her Boxter to its limits, which was always beyond any speed-limit laws.
Her first instinct was to go as far away as possible. Take a plane to California, to Mexico. Or better: to Brazil or somewhere in Europe. Well, Australia was tempting.
That was why she was heading towards the Airport, only to change her mind on a whim. She suddenly despised the idea of sitting in a plane beside some smug, overconfident businessman. who who’d think he could get lucky with her. Even if this was not the case, she still craved for some time alone - not lonely, alone. She’d been lonely for quite some time. Alone…well, she looked forward to a moment alone.
She decided to go by car first. But she had to leave her own vehicle behind. That one was clear. So she paid cash in advance for 1000 miles -- and then some -- at the car rental at Baltimore International Airport.
With every intention to drive just ahead -- north, south, and better yet, west -- she put in an old favourite CD of hers with some great songs that felt as if they were written for long rides in a car - though certainly no "trucker-songs" - and stepped on the accelerator.
But just after the third song was fading into oblivion and the fourth was starting with a nice upbeat, she realized she was neither going south nor north, and certainly not west. The road sign, illuminated by her own car-lights, told her that she was about two hours away from the capital of greed, politics, secrets and rumours: the capital of the nation.
In all truth she knew that the capital of greed, politics, secrets and rumours was actually a building on the shores of the tiny, often forgotten, state of Delaware. But what the heck?
While being somehow surprised at her own unconscious move, she suddenly realized: it was not physical distance she needed. That meant nothing. It did not matter if she put five or six states or an ocean or a galaxy between her and Delaware. It was the mental distance she needed, and this was much more difficult to reach. There was a huge difference between falling off the radar and cutting all the emotional ties.
She had said her goodbyes to Sydney and Broots. She knew she momentarily fell out of character with that. But she felt she had to. She owed it to them.
After almost three hours of driving - traffic WAS a bitch - Parker made her way from the outer beltway into central Washington.
She slowly made it through the crowded streets, and, at each traffic light watched the people as they went about their daily routines. She was enthralled by the beauty of the buildings.
But her destination was someplace else. Steering her car into the circle, she took the fourth exit up northwest. Most streets were named after the equivalent of either a number or an alphabetic character. But somehow, despite all her intelligence, she still had problems grasping the system in this town. Here, the streets were numbered according to what was supposed to be the center and leading like sunrays in all directions.
Thank God this area had more ‘real’ street names and she knew where she was heading. Otherwise she would be driving in circles and, sure as hell, end up right in front of the building that was known to house the president and in the middle of what was now a security precaution!
That meant they would scan her car, check her ID and her person until she’d go stir crazy and pick a fight that would definitely get her into custody.
Turning from 18th on to Ontario Road she realized she had almost arrived, remembering her time here way back when she was still in college. She had gone down here from Princeton with two friends to party and enjoy the city. They had quickly realized it was sheer luck that brought them there. Good food, good music, lots of fun, lots of drinks and a nice cheap place to stay.
Nothing fancy, nothing like the places she was accustomed to staying at. But, she decided, it had sufficed then, so it will certainly suffice now.
Parker had to drive around two blocks, for the residential area was all one-way. Apprehension crept up inside her at the probability of getting a parking space at this late hour. She started to curse at all those stupid people who apparently did not know how to park a car. Small Toyota hatch-backs that could fit into her purse used up valuable parking space for two Buick-sized vehicles.
Finally she got lucky. Taking out all her possessions, she had to walk five minutes back to the place she had planned to stay at. She had made a phone call from a gas station only twenty minutes before and had made the reservations, using a false name, of course.
Not really expecting to get anything, lady luck struck again, and provided her with a place to stay for five weeks. This place offered rooms mostly for weeks at a time, and as the owner told her on the phone, their guests apparently were business or government people who had to stay in town for a while. She had not expected to get a room at such short notice, but it seemed that October was not a busy time.
Parker took the keys to her room that went under the name of Celia Reed. Not very original she knew, but that was the idea. Mr. Ledeen, the owner, showed her around. There were two houses; each had seven guest rooms. After taking over the place a year ago, he had invested and renovated both buildings. The building she was in still had the kitchen from back then and guests had the opportunity to use the appliances. Both houses had a large living room. They looked nice, warm and welcoming. She was sure the guests that lived there for any amount of time were enjoying themselves, watching Television and socializing.
Parker herself had no plans to do just that, but still, the idea seemed nice. The advantage this place had to hotels was its normalcy. Nobody would have ever thought to look for her in the residential part of town that was called Adams Morgan -- famous for all its Jazz music and international cuisine.
**************
Celia Reed spent most of the time in her room, the first days even skipping breakfast. Around noon she went out, strolled around for an hour or two -- staying in the general area -- and then went back to her place. She needed the time for herself. She had a lot to think about. What would she do? Where to go from here? Would they be looking for her? Would Lyle send teams after her?
And the eternal question, that always seem to linger in the back of her mind. What would HE think, now that he must have realized she was gone? Perish the thought she reminded herself angrily. This was not about HIM. This was for her.
On the third day she realized she had walked as far as Dupont Circle. There was a nice bookstore, ‘Kramerbooks’, where she acquired half a dozen books. One she even read then and there. They had a coffee corner there, and she enjoyed herself immensely.
The weather was fantastic for this time of the year: sunny and warm. The days were clear and bright. She loved it. She had light meals during lunchtime and went to dinner every night at a different place. Mexican, Korean, Italian, Japanese, Cuban, Jamaican -- all of the world’s best food on one street.
A few times she went out. There were so many nice jazz bars with live music. She loved that: having a few drinks, enjoying a light buzz and brushing off the men who were hitting on her.
Once or twice she was tempted though.
She missed company, male company. It had been too long since she had last been with a man. She missed the sex and she missed intimacy.
She was well aware of the difference. She had had a lot of sex in her life, but intimacy she had experienced only once. It was the kind of emotional connection that arose when two people really ‘feel’ rather than just ‘get on with it’. It was when the feelings of the other are as important as your own; when your first thought is always to make sure the other is enjoying every single moment, and your own satisfaction only second to that.
Most of her life she was satisfied with what she got. She got what she wanted when she took a man into her bed.
After Tommy all that had changed. Parker was truly and utterly afraid that what she had with Tommy was lost to her forever. Nobody was like him. She had loved him, opened up to him and he had shown her what it was truly like to be intimate, to make love rather than just have sex.
Parker sat in a sofa in her room. She held her favourite picture of her mother in her left hand. In her right she held a Scotch that she had bought earlier in a liquor store.
If she had any regret, any regret at all at her choice, then it was that she did not finish her mother’s plan. She had never found out about the real plan. It was probably her mother’s eternal quest of rescuing all the children, maybe even a plan to destroy the Centre once and for all. She did not know.
She felt miserable at the thought that she had left her little brother in their evil hands. Why hadn’t she thought of that when talking to Lyle? God, what would happen to that little innocent life?
She hoped her other brother, Ethan -- wherever he was -- was free and able to live at least half a happy life. If anyone could find him, Jarod could. Jarod would find him eventually.
Jarod. The other unresolved thing she had a lot of trouble coping with.
God, is there any possibility that thoughts about him would not haunt her?. An image of his face would creep up in her mind ever so slightly, at least five times a day. The picture would be either his face of eternal pain and sorrow in the limousine on the tarmac in Glasgow or the face he made just before he leaned in to kiss her in front of the fire on the island.
But there was no denying the facts. All those years, she just wanted to be free. But there was no freedom where she was. No freedom with him. There was no wishing on the stars, no reason to believe. After all these years she finally understood.
She needed to cut all the ties, including the ties to him, whatever they were. This was what they both needed. Space for both of them, some silence at last. Even if it would break her, it would better, for both of them. At the end they would be stronger.
It was such a devastating thought that she had lost him too now, but she knew she had done the right thing.
It hurt like hell.
She had not said goodbye to him, and that had been the hardest part. All her life, all the people she cared for, had gone without a chance of saying goodbye. And now she had done the same thing.
But all this was out of her hands now. She had made her choice, for good or for bad. Now it was her time to live her life, whatever that meant.
