Chapter 18
I know this is a silly picture, but every time I see it I want to cry. There was a time when I couldn't feel my thumb and index finger, and it went up my hand, above my wrist, and up to my elbow. All those nerves were numb. My doctor said I may never have the feeling return. Most of it has, except the tip of my finger. It's an odd sensation--losing the sense of touch. I can feel pressure, but not detail. (I don't know how else to describe it.) The first time I sat at a keyboard after my surgery I fumbled as I typed. It made me cry. It was like losing something precious. I paused and closed my eyes and thought about writing, and how it took place--first in my thoughts, and then through my fingers. I'd written hundreds of thousands of words, probably millions, over the years. My fingers knew how to write--I knew it! And so with my eyes still closed I typed, letting my numb thumb and finger remember how to move through their connection to my brain, rather than through feeling. They didn't miss a letter. Then I cried because they hadn't forgotten anything.
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 18
Jenn's phone call home was later than she wanted. She
was exhausted and it sounded like Nick was too. He said he had a little bit of
office work to do since Matt was in the field, and it might keep him up all
night.
"Natalie came in today and did some
training," Jenn reported.
"Yeah? I hope you gave her a hard time. Wasn't
she supposed to do some little demonstration about escaping or something?"
"Yeah. For about two hours she talked to us about
attitude, but didn't demonstrate anything but her own rotten attitude with a
forced smile."
"She was probably too sore to do anything else.
Did she still have her arm in a sling?"
"No. What happened? You didn't tell me about
that."
"Oh, the details aren't important. It was just
another island escape for her. Nothing fancy. I should have told you to razz
her about it. It would keep her humble."
"I think I might have hit a nerve, but
unintentionally. Sam took a notch off her pride. He asked if she'd ever been in
a situation where she couldn't escape."
"Really? What did she say?" Nick asked with
great interest.
"Something like, only when I was rescued. Then
she gave us some lecture-sounding thing about trying to free ourselves because
you can never count on someone coming for you."
"She's basically right," Nick said.
"It was funny—not laugh funny, but odd funny—that
after the lecture we had a break and I went up and thanked her and said hi, and
she was basically rude to me and acted like she didn't know me. What was going
on? Do you have any idea?”
Nick chuckled. "Yeah, I have
ideas, but you met the real Natalie. On top of that, you and me have both
rescued her. The time before that it was Monica. She's not too happy with us at
the moment. She thinks it has shattered her reputation."
"Oh, get real," Jenn said.
Nick laughed. "She's rather vain. I might leave
her to die next time. Do you think that would destroy her reputation?"
"Like you could ever do that, Mr. Nice Guy,"
Jenn giggled. "Besides, her death would probably turn her into a legend. Honestly,
do you want that?"
"Not in my lifetime," Nick muttered.
After the phone call ended, Jenn lay in bed and
remembered Natalie's lecture. She had entered the room as if suddenly Bob was
insignificant and she was now in charge—like a queen or a goddess, or both. Her
long dark red hair was pulled back in a fashionable knot with wisps falling
around her neck and chin and over her forehead. Her bright eyes sparkled but
were cold, almost deadly. Nearly snake-like.
Angela had nudged her and said under her breath,
"If that's the kind of woman my husband works with every day, I'm making
him change his occupation the moment I get home!"
Jenn whispered back, "I think she looks more like
a lone wolf type, so don't worry about her."
“Oh yeah? They're the most lethal!" Angela
whispered back.
Natalie reached center stage—the front of the group—and
started with a bang, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger and lecturing
more than teaching. "Any questions?" she smirked when finished. Sam
was the only soul brave enough to say anything, and his question came out in a
stutter.
Jenn leaned toward Angela and whispered, "Tell me
about her hair." The thickness and long loose tendrils had fascinated Jenn
and that was all she saw as Natalie moved. When Jenn had last seen Natalie, her
hair was singed almost to the roots in places.
"Very professionally done hair extensions, but I'd
bet my next paycheck that she's a true redhead. Maybe not that dark or vibrant,
but nearly so," Angela replied.
Jenn nodded. "Good assessment."
Angela shot her a funny look. "Exactly why did
you think that? I'm a hair stylist so I can spot the clues, but you're a
preschool teacher. What gave it away? Did your mom do hair, or something?"
Jenn shrugged. “No. Just all the stuff we’ve been
taught lately must be sinking in on some inner level.”
Angela shook her head. “No one said anything in any
class about hair. Tell me how you could tell," Angela begged.
Jenn shrugged again.
Angela grabbed her arm. "I have to know so when I
do it even slightly wrong, it's not so obvious just anyone—sorry about that
term, honey—can tell! How did you know? What keyed you in?"
Jenn shrugged and said, "Come on, let's go talk
to her, but don't mention her hair." She rose and tugged Angela to her
feet.
Natalie was nearly ready to slip from the room when
Jenn halted her, saying, "Ms. Holtz, I enjoyed your presentation."
Natalie turned back with a patronizing smile.
"Thank-you."
"I enjoyed it too," Angela agreed, almost
stuttering herself, and stepping halfway behind Jenn as if seeking shelter.
Natalie looked down her perfect nose at the two women,
"I'm sure you'll never need such detailed information, but I was happy to
share it. I hope you're having a memorable experience at this training seminar.
I understand you've got gun safety scheduled this evening and karate tomorrow
morning."
Jenn watched how smoothly Natalie guided the
conversation as Angela grabbed the new topics and stepped back into view and said,
"I'm not thrilled about karate."
Natalie lightly laughed. "It's as fluid as
dancing once you learn a few basics and practice the steps. Just looking at
you, I assume you enjoy a little rhythm, am I right? What type of music do you enjoy
most?" Natalie did a few quick dance steps to make her point—and once
again control the topic.
"Soft rock," Angela enthusiastically said as
if mesmerized.
"Oldies or the new stuff?"
"Both. Everything from the Beatles to U2."
Natalie softly sang a few lyrics from a Beatles tune
as she floated through a few karate steps. "See what I mean? You'll love
it."
"Okay, I think I can try it," Angela agreed.
"You look fantastic," Jenn said.
Natalie looked at her—her eyes both searing and
searching—and lightly laughed. "Why, thank you. I think it's the dancing
to karate steps that keeps me in shape." She reached up and brushed a wisp
of hair from her cheek and the ruffle on her sleeve fell back a couple of
inches. In a brief flash Jenn saw dark bruises circling the exposed wrist.
"I don't require special packaging," Natalie said with a laugh as her eyes sent
Jenn a warning message to refrain from making references about their prior
contact together, or possibly mention what she’s just seen.
Jenn decided it was the biggest lie she'd ever heard
and laughed. Of all people she knew, no matter how briefly, Natalie relied on
special packaging from head to toe and from top designers, although not with
bubble wrap. She knew she should stop things there, but said, "How is
Jeremy?"
"Jeremy?" Natalie casually asked with a look
of wary confusion in her eyes that she attempted blinking away.
Jenn placed the palm of her hand down low, near her
knee. "Little two-year old Jeremy. The toddler with a famous football
playing daddy? The borrowed boy?"
Natalie's laugh contained a sharp edge. "He's
home with his mother. Thank you for asking. Will you please excuse me? I don't
mean to run off, but I have an appointment."
Jenn nodded in understanding—she knew it was exactly
what Natalie wanted—to make a hasty escape.
Sam shouldered in next to them. "What
about…" he began asking, but Natalie cut him off with a raised hand, flick
or her bruised wrist, and smiled. "I wish I could stay and chat, but I
really do have something important to attend to. Please excuse me." Jenn
didn't miss the ring of bruises marking her second wrist as well.
"She is so gorgeous," Diane, who had joined
them, gushed, once Natalie was out the door. "I wish I was half as
gorgeous. She looks like a female James Bond movie. Liquid silver and
gold."
"Eye lash extensions," Angela whispered in
Jenn's ear.
Jenn didn't mention her real ones had been burned off
a few months previously.
Sam said, "Now, if every agent looked like her
and knows what she knows, this country would be in great shape."
"What does your wife look like, Sam?" Diane
asked.
A hush fell over the conference room. Sam blushed.
"My wife is in the accounting department. She doesn't have to dress up for
anyone or try to escape from anything, except maybe work every evening at five.
I'm not sure why they thought I needed to come here and learn how to fire a gun
and work my way out of ropes tied around my wrists."
Angela laughed and so did half the group.
"Amen," Harold said. "My wife,
Caroline, does data entry. She'll never be in a tight spot, and neither will I.
I think this whole training business is just one more way to spend government
money, but hey, the food's great and the bed is soft."
Everyone laughed and agreed.
"What does your husband do?" Angela asked as
they rode up the elevator together at the end of the day.
"He makes a mean omelet," Jenn said
thoughtfully.
Angela threw her head back and laughed. "I
noticed you never said anything while everyone else talked about their spouse
tonight at dinner."
"It didn't occur to me to brag about his fried
eggs and cheese."
Angela laughed again. "Come on, what does he
do?"
Jenn shrugged.
"Tell me," Angela begged when they reached
their rooms across the hall from each other.
Jenn studied the key card in her hand, then the number
on the wall beside her door. She finally looked at Angela and said, "Can
you keep a secret?"
"To the grave," her new friend eagerly
vowed.
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart."
Jenn leaned forward and whispered, "It's very
dangerous.”
“I’m sure it is,” Angela whispered in reply. “What
does he do? Push a cart from the supply room to the offices to deliver printer
paper?”
Jenn laughed and shook her head. “I wish, but it’s much
worse.” She leaned close and whispered, “He rescues Natalie."
Angela burst out laughing and Jenn joined in. Each
time they thought the fun was over, they started laughing again. Finally Angela
regained her composure and said, "You are hilarious, Jenn. I never could
have thought up something so funny! This whole night has been loads of fun. I
can't remember when I've laughed harder in years. Now my sides ache. I’m so
glad I came, and so I’m so glad I met you. Best friends forever?"
Jenn grasped her hand and squeezed. “Forever. And now
I need to go to the bathroom.” That brought more fits of laughter. Finally Jenn
said, "Seriously, I’ve got to go. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She
turned and slid her key card into the lock. She waved at Angela who was still
laughing and pushed the door open. She waved again and closed the door behind
her. She peeked out of the peek hole to see Angela fumbling with her key card
as fits of laughter took over.
Jenn laughed and turned away and surveyed the
room. Every light was blazing. She'd come up after lunch and turned them on and
was glad. It made inspecting every inch less frightening and quicker.
End Chapter 18
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