Chapter 1: Strength, Courage, and Wisdom - The Broken Road

The treadmill started to hum. I smiled. How I loved that sound. I began walking as the thin rubber strip pulled me back. I walked briskly at first, taking in all the other people exercising around me.

I turned up the speed and began jogging. I tucked the buds from my iPod into my ears. My smile widened. Mary J. Blige… “No More Drama”... perfect. I started running and fell into an easy rhythm with the song.

I thought about why I was here, at this gym, in the middle of the day. Running, I thought. I’m running. My mind quickly filled with images of all the things I was running from… the past… the people…the pain. I increased the speed again, intent on outrunning the images now darkening my mind. That’s why I’m here… so I can be stronger… faster… safe. I embraced the fatigue in my thighs and the air burning my lungs. I drew strength from the lyrics of the song. “No more tears,” I repeated, over and over again.

Three songs later, I slowed the treadmill and resumed walking. I took a couple of deep breaths while I tried to slow my breathing. There’s good pain and bad pain, I thought. This is clearly the good stuff. I grabbed my water bottle and doused my throat. I thought about the lyrics from the first song. No more pain. I allowed pain and fear to dictate my life for nine miserable years… but not anymore. A smile spread slowly across my face. No more pain.

I abandoned the treadmill and walked determinedly toward the locker room, still chanting my new mantra. Twenty minutes later, a heather sheath dress and matching heels replaced my black shorts, tank top, and sneakers. I threw my gym bag into the back of my jeep and pulled into lunch hour traffic. It took me five minutes to drive back to my office. By Montana standards, it was a brutal commute.

I sank into the chair behind my heavy wooden desk. I listened to my voice mail, then began returning the phone calls that had accumulated over the lunch hour. I was on the phone for over two hours. With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and rolled my neck, trying to release some of the tension that had already accumulated there. I thought about the complaint I had just received and shook my head in disgust. Seriously? Since when did nursing homes start forcing people to die?

The woman I had just spoken to was battling brain cancer. A physician at the long term care facility where she lived put an order in her file prohibiting resuscitation; the order was issued against her wishes. The woman may have cancer, but that didn’t take away her right to decide whether she had a Do Not Resuscitate order on file. With cancer, she could still have weeks, months, or even years. Turning to my computer, I logged into Lexis/Nexis and started pounding on the keys. Really pounding. Within minutes, I was completely immersed in research.

“You need to consider this.”

I pulled my eyes away from the computer as I shifted my attention to my boss. I hadn’t even heard him walk into my office. “Consider what?”

Charlie tossed a piece of paper on my desk. “This.”

I spent a respectable five seconds glancing over the paper. “A senate fellowship? In DC? I don’t want to live in DC,” I scoffed. “Nobody wants to live in DC.”

Charlie folded his arms across his chest. One of those knowing looks settled on his face. “Well, then. Maybe you need to think about taking the road less traveled.”

I couldn’t resist the sigh or the eye roll. “Charlie, I was just accepted to law school. I’ve wanted this since I was in high school.” I paused, remembering the reason why. My uncle had been murdered when I was sixteen years old. The brutality behind his death created a lasting impression, as had the special prosecutor who handled the case. I once dreamed of working with him. Sadly, I was derailed.

I shifted my focus back to Charlie. “It has taken me a long time to get to a place in my life where I can actually make this happen. Why would I throw in the towel on law school to go work in Congress? Those yahoos don’t have a clue how to help people. I like helping people, and I’m limited without a law degree.”

“The fellowship is only for a year. You can delay law school another year. Besides, there are ways you can help people without a law degree. What do you think you’re doing now?” Charlie smiled. “Think about it. That’s all I'm asking.”

“Okay,” I grudgingly conceded. Charlie was one of those people who seemed to have a direct line to God. So if he thought I should consider the fellowship, then I probably should. Charlie was also the most amazing boss to walk the planet, so it’s not like I wanted to leave my job, but this unfulfilled dream of becoming a lawyer was difficult to walk away from. My ex-husband had been dead set against it. He had actually forbidden me to go to law school when I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in pre-law. Now that my divorce was final, I wanted to regain some control over my life. Following through with law school seemed like the best place to start.

Charlie’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “So, what are you working on? You were hard at it when I walked in here.”

I was glad he asked. “Have you ever heard of a long term care facility forcing someone to have a DNR on file… just because that person has cancer and is considered terminal? The woman actually wants to be resuscitated. Shouldn’t the Patient Self-Determination Act apply here? She wants to continue fighting the cancer, and it doesn’t sound like death is imminent.”

Charlie’s jaw clenched. “No. Which long term care facility is this?”

“Shady Grove. I don’t know what’s going on over there, but the Medicaid Fraud Investigator stopped by my office yesterday to discuss an elder abuse case from that facility. We need to do a surprise inspection on that place. Can you set one up?”

“Sure. I’ll see how quickly we can pull a team together. You should call your friends over at the Medical Review Board. See what they think about the DNR issue. I’ve never heard of a medical provider insisting on a DNR. The only cases I’m familiar with are the ones where the medical providers refuse to comply with the DNR. Typically they err on the side of life.”

“I know. I’m having a hard time understanding this, but I think I need to call the administrator at the facility to hear their side of the story. If she confirms what I heard from the resident, then I’ll call the Board. Hopefully it’s some sort of misunderstanding.”

“Sounds like a plan, but don’t forget about the fellowship. I want you to look into that too… and I want you to pray on it, Kri. The deadline for applying is next week.”

I smiled. Charlie was always looking for ways to strengthen my relationship with God. “I will, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie turned toward the door. “Oh, and Kri? It’s 5:30. Go home.”

I gave one last longing look at the research beckoning from my computer. I shut my computer down with a sigh. There were never enough hours in a day.

* * *

A few days later, I was back in my office. Nervous energy coursed through my bouncing knee as I anxiously awaited Charlie. He was across the street defending our budget to the state legislature. I didn’t envy him that job. Last year’s forest fires had wiped out the general fund. All of state government were facing cuts this year. The Montana Department of Health and Human Services, where I worked, was no exception.

My best friend, Kimme, was nervously twisting around in the chair on the other side of my desk as she looked through the glass wall toward Charlie’s office. Her deep auburn hair was pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck.

While Kimme and I were a lot alike, we couldn’t have looked more different. Where she was petite, I was tall. While her perfectly straight hair stopped just short of her shoulders, my pale blond hair fell down my back in messy waves. Kimme had striking emerald eyes. Mine were blue or gray, depending on the day. Kimme had curves in all the right places. My figure was bordering on boyishly thin. Despite these differences, our friendship was tightly woven by our similar pasts, a passion for helping those who were vulnerable, a deep sense of justice, and a penchant for mischief. We had both been broken by our ex-husbands, but Kimme was two steps ahead of me in the healing process. She had already found a way to rebuild her confidence. I was still working on mine.

Kimme leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Do you think we’re going to get in trouble?” Her green eyes lit with excitement. I thought it was hysterical she’d even ask. Whenever we were together, Charlie referred to us as “the power of K².” We were a force to be reckoned with, and Charlie knew it.

I shook my head. “No. Charlie will laugh. Besides, he deserves it after calling my desk and hanging up on me all morning long, just for giggles. Not to mention what he did with that super soaker last Friday.” Charlie was not your typical boss. Things could get pretty tense around our office, especially when the legislature was in session, so Charlie liked to lighten things up with his Nerf and squirt gun arsenal.

We both stilled as Charlie walked into his office. His silver hair glowed under the harsh office lights. He didn’t even look twice at his phone. He was sifting through a pile of papers on his desk.

Kimme, who was trying her best to be inconspicuous, raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. “Maybe I should call him…”

Kimme nodded. A huge grin spread like wildfire across her face.

I dialed Charlie’s number, then sat back and stared at his office.

Charlie turned toward his phone. Quirking his head slightly, he studied my handy work. I had Saran wrapped his phone with an entire box of Saran Wrap. His eyes shot up as Kimme and I burst out laughing. A mischievous look sparked in his ice blue eyes.

My eyes widened as he leaned toward the file drawer where he keeps the super soaker. “Run!” I squealed. I grabbed my purse and shoved Kimme out the door ahead of me. It was close to five o’clock… close enough to call it a day anyway.

We were dripping wet and laughing hysterically before we even reached the stairs. We were fast... but Charlie was faster. Of course, he wasn’t wearing heels.

* * *

That night, I mulled over the fellowship application while toying with a tuna melt sandwich. The idea of living in DC was not appealing to me at all, but law school was proving problematic. I was struggling to find affordable housing in Missoula, which meant I’d have to apply for more student loans. By my calculations, law school was going to set me back a hundred thousand dollars. There’s no way I could make those kind of student loan payments working in public service law.

The fellowship paid a sixty thousand dollar stipend for the year. That was nearly double my current salary. Of course, the cost of living in DC was much higher than in Montana, but still, that was a lot of money.

My attorney friends warned me that I wouldn’t be able to work during the first year of law school. Evidently, the course load was so demanding it was impossible to manage even a part-time job. Most of these friends were actively discouraging me from going to law school. They weren’t happy practicing law. Charlie hadn’t been the only one telling me there were other ways to help people.

“Why do people keep telling me that?” I asked the silver and black ball of fur curled next to me on the couch. Cade lifted his head and gave me an inquisitive look. As only a nine pound Shih Tzu could, Cade had long operated under the misperception that he was a Rottweiler. He had risked his life to save mine multiple times. We were completely inseparable.

I scratched under his chin. “Don’t worry, little buddy. You go where I go.” Reassured, Cade tucked his face back into his paws. I raked my hand soothingly through his soft fur before retrieving a pen and paper from the coffee table. Drawing a long line down the center of the paper, I made two columns. I wrote “law school” at the top of the first column and “fellowship” at the top of the second.

An hour later, I was still mulling over the list. I was surprised to find more advantages and less disadvantages listed in the fellowship column. I set the paper aside, then rubbed my blurry eyes. There was only one thing left to do. Pray.

* * *

I was crawling under my desk, trying to retrieve my pen, when Charlie popped into my office. “God spoke to me last night.”

I peeked out from under the desk.

Charlie was leaning against the door to my office with an amused look on his face.

I pulled myself up. I tossed the pen on the desk and reached for my coffee cup as I sank into my chair. “Really? Why doesn’t God ever speak to me?” I contemplated the answer to my own question as I warmed my hands against my coffee cup and breathed in the rich, earthy aroma.

Charlie smiled. “He does. You’re just not listening.”

I scowled at him.

Charlie smiled as he dropped into the chair across from my desk. “He asked me to give you a message.”

I raised my eyebrows, encouraging him to go on.

“Apply.”

I leaned back in my chair and smiled. “How is it that you got the answer to my prayer?”

Charlie just grinned.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he really did have a direct line to God. I chose my next words carefully. “I’ve given it some thought, Charlie. I’ll apply, but only one person in the entire country is awarded this fellowship each year. I seriously doubt they’re going to pick me.”

“I don’t. Here’s my letter of recommendation and one from Mike.” Mike was Charlie’s boss and the head of our department. Charlie unfolded himself from the chair and placed the letters on my desk.

I stared at the letters, completely stunned. “Now I really do have to apply.” I tried not to smile as I glanced at Charlie. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Charlie rolled his eyes as he rose from his chair. “Today, Kri. Get it done today.”

This time, I couldn’t decide whether to scowl or smile. Should I be concerned that he didn’t answer my question? I turned to my computer as I contemplated how best to approach the essay for the fellowship application. What do I hope to accomplish with this fellowship? I began typing and quickly lost myself in the possibilities.

My printer was grinding out the application materials when Charlie reappeared hours later. “Are you ready to leave?” He had an odd look on his face.

“Yep. I just finished my application for the senate fellowship. I was going to take it up to the front office and leave it for FedEx.” I took a deep breath. Am I really doing this?

Charlie cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “You know, I saw that Michael character sitting outside in the parking lot. His Saab convertible is hard to miss. Is that restraining order still in effect?”

My heart stalled as I sank back into my chair. “Yes, it is,” I whispered. “When did you see him out there?”

“Just a few minutes ago, on my way back from the Capitol.” Charlie ran a hand through his hair. He appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “Kri, there is something about that man that rubs me the wrong way. How much do you know about him?” Charlie leaned against the door, concern etched across his kind face.

I slowly pulled the application materials from the printer before responding. “Not much, Charlie. I know he’s originally from Portugal, and he’s working over at the State Board of Investments. I think he’s a financial analyst. He said something about managing hedge funds. We only went on four dates.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose as he silently encouraged me to go on.

“I wanted to end things after the third date. We had stopped by his office after lunch that day. When he introduced me to his colleagues, he referred to me as his fiancé. As soon as we left his office I demanded to know why. He told me it was nothing. He claimed that fiancé meant sweetheart in French. He grew up in some French boarding school, so he primarily speaks French. I thought it was possible we were applying the label in different ways. Still, it bothered me. He insisted I was overreacting, but I knew something wasn’t right. I felt like he was handling me.”

I took a deep breath and continued. “Despite the red flags, I decided to wait to end things until after New Year’s Eve, since we already had dinner reservations. I was shocked when he proposed that night, especially after he had insisted I read too much into the whole fiancé thing. I refused to accept the ring. I told him I couldn’t marry him… that I didn’t even know him. I told him he was moving way too fast and that I just wanted to be friends. He cried… like really cried.” I honestly didn’t see that one coming. Who proposes on the fourth date?

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess… he wouldn’t take no for an answer?”

I looked down at the application materials, which were still in my hand. I was a bit embarrassed to be discussing Michael with my boss; but Charlie was much more than a boss. He was like a second father to me. I shoved the application material in a FedEx envelope and pushed through. “I cut the evening short. He called me repeatedly that night. I talked to him the first few times. He tried to change my mind, but I stood firm. I gave up justifying my decision after the third phone call. He said he didn’t want to live without me… that he wouldn’t live without me. He begged me to go with him on a trip somewhere… anywhere. He thought we just needed time to be together... to work things out. I told him to stop calling. I told him I didn’t want to see him again. He wouldn’t stop, so I just let the answering machine pick up. He just kept hanging up and calling right back. After a while, I began counting how many times he called. He stopped somewhere around eighty.”

Charlie said nothing. He simply shook his head.

I looked back down at my hands. “I thought he had given up for the night, but he came over to my apartment around midnight and began pounding on the door. He begged me to let him in. I didn’t know what to do. It was late, but I was so scared I called Kimme. Her husband, Dan, came over, but by the time Dan got to my place, Michael was gone. Dan insisted I call the police while he walked the perimeter.”

My voice cracked as I recalled what happened next. “After hearing what happened, the two police officers who came to my house split up. One officer stayed with me while the other one went to Michael’s apartment. A few minutes later, the officer who went to see Michael radioed the officer with me. He recommended I get a restraining order and find someplace else to stay for a few weeks… someplace Michael didn’t know about. Dan insisted I stay with them. The police officers followed us the entire way. They said they wanted to make sure we weren’t being followed. I don’t know what Michael told that cop, but it couldn’t have been good.” I shivered as I trailed off. “After everything I went through with my ex-husband, I just can’t be around someone like that. I won’t risk going down that road again.”

Charlie pushed off from the door. “Be careful, Kri. I don’t like this guy. New Year’s Eve was over five weeks ago, and he’s sitting out in that parking lot right now. That tells me he has no intention of respecting that restraining order. I know it’s a public parking lot, but what business could he possibly have here? Get your computer shut down and pack your stuff up. I’m walking you out to your car.”

I smiled shakily. “Thanks, Charlie, but I'm going over to the Windbag with Kimme. We’re having dinner and drinks with Ann and her posse tonight. Dan, Mac, Justin, Jerry, and Doug will be there. No one’s going to mess with me with all those guys around.” I shut my computer down and reached for my purse and the FedEx envelope as I walked around my desk. I gave Charlie a quick hug. “You should join us.” Charlie never joined us.

“I can’t. Georgie is cooking something special tonight. I’m going home.” His face lit up like it always does when he talks about Georgie. He glanced at Kimme as she joined us in the hall. “Give me a minute to collect my things, and I’ll walk you ladies out.” He strode into his office.

I was on edge by the time we left the building. There was no sign of Michael, so Kimme and I parted ways with Charlie.

Kimme chatted me up as we drove to the Windbag, but I could tell she was nervous. She kept looking in her rear view mirror.

I pretended I didn’t notice.

The Windbag Saloon was nestled in Helena’s historic Last Chance Gulch. The place had served as a brothel in the old days. Now, it was one of the best restaurants in town. I loved the intimacy of the place with its dim lighting, exposed brick, and weathered wood walls. The Windbag made the best burgers in town, and they served their Mud Pie drizzled with Bailey’s Irish Cream if you knew enough to ask for it.

I waved at the bartender as we walked into the restaurant. The entire gang had already commandeered a table near the back of the bar. Justin stood and pulled a chair out for me. Kimme dropped into the chair next to Dan. We didn’t bother placing an order; it was only a matter of minutes before the waitress brought a glass of Merlot for Kimme and a Chianti for me.

I was halfway through my glass of wine when my thoughts returned to the fellowship application. I had the best friends. I loved the people sitting around this table. How could I possibly live any place else? I did an internal eye roll. Only one person would be awarded the position from thousands of applicants. No way was that going to be me.

* * *

“It’s a wrap!” the director shouted. Three cameramen smiled in relief. We had just finished filming four episodes back to back.

Thank God. My head was pounding. How did I ever let Charlie rope me into hosting this television show? Filming was beyond stressful, especially when you were trying to juggle three different camera views. I knew Aging Horizons was a good tool for educating and empowering the elderly; and I knew people were watching the show. Strangers recognized me on the street, and senior citizens were calling for more information about some of the topics we covered. Still, I hated being in front of the camera.

I smiled at the guest speaker I had just finished interviewing. “Thanks for agreeing to be on the show, Rick. You did a great job capturing the importance of advance directives and living wills.” We stood and shook hands.

Rick smiled warmly. “I'm happy to help. Let me know what you decide about hosting a show on estate planning next month. I can make another appearance or recommend another attorney for you to interview.”

“Thanks, Rick. As soon as we firm up our topics for the next few shows, I’ll let you know. I really appreciate all your help.” I gathered up my things as Rick turned to leave.

“Hey, Kri.” Al Marx, the Channel 4 Sports Broadcaster, stood smiling down at me from the spot where Rick had previously stood.

I smiled. “Hi, Al. How are you?” I couldn’t help but like Al. He reminded me of a giant teddy bear… very friendly, always smiling, and kind of cuddly looking. He was a little goofy, but I suspected he was a lot of fun to hang out with.

“Good. Good. Hey, I'm covering the basketball game over at Carroll College tonight. Do you want to go to the game with me and catch a late dinner afterwards?” Al looked at me a bit sheepishly. A nervous smile hung suspended on his face.

Huh. I was a little surprised Al was asking me out. I didn’t even realize he knew my name. Everyone knew his name. How could they not? He was on the local news every night. I shifted nervously. I didn’t have anything planned for tonight, which was kind of a rare thing. “Uh, sure.” I cringed as I thought about how unintelligent that must have sounded. Filming those four shows back to back must have sucked more brain cells out of my head than I had previously thought. “Do you want to meet at the game?”

Al was grinning now. “No. I live over by you, so I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

I stilled. Very few people knew where I lived. I didn’t want my ex-husband finding out where my apartment was so I wasn’t exactly advertising my location. “How do you know where I live?” I asked quietly.

That sheepish look slid back over Al’s face. “I see you walking your dog on my way to work.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief. I could certainly see how that could happen. “Oh… okay. What time do you want to pick me up?”

Al smiled. “How about six?” The sheepish look was gone. In fact, Al seemed to be standing about two inches taller. Was he… glowing?

“Six is fine. See you then.” I smiled at Al as I slipped between him and camera three on the way out to my jeep. I needed to get my hands on some ibuprofen if there was to be any hope of dulling my headache before the game.

* * *

Al picked me up shortly before six. I had changed into blue jeans, a black knit sweater, and black boots. He was wearing a gray tweed sports jacket with a white dress shirt and tie, which he paired with blue jeans and white athletic shoes. I thought it an eclectic mix of clothes, but he managed to make it work for him.

As we backed out of my driveway, Al asked if I followed the teams from Carroll College. I reluctantly admitted that I didn’t follow their basketball teams... only the football team. The confession was a tad bit embarrassing considering Carroll College was my alma mater.

Al was catching me up to speed with the basketball teams’ long list of accomplishments when I felt a surge of heat at my core. I felt a moment of panic as I contemplated whether I had wet my pants. I studied Al with some suspicion. “Al, do you have… uh… seat warmers?”

He roared as he slapped the steering wheel. “Yeah. How do you like the heat?”

I shook my head and grinned. That sly dog. I turned toward Al as I settled into the warm seat. It was already proving to be a very entertaining evening.

* * *

Al was a lot of fun to hang out with. I couldn’t imagine a more ideal date for a basketball game. We went to the Brew House for dinner after the game. We both ordered wine and Chicken Marsala. The waiter nearly singed his eyebrows when he set the entrée on fire.

Al was always hamming it up for the cameras, so I was surprised to learn he wasn’t goofy all the time. He was really smart, well-traveled, and he knew a lot about DC. When I told him about the fellowship, he assured me DC wasn’t all bad. According to Al, some people actually enjoyed living there.

I walked away from the date with a far better appreciation for Al. I smiled at him as he pulled his SUV into my parking lot. It was late. Without any street lights, the parking lot was dark. “I had a nice evening, Al. You’re a lot of fun to be around.”

“Thanks for agreeing to go on such short notice. I really enjoyed your company.” Al returned the smile as he eased his vehicle next to mine. His smile slowly faded. “Isn’t that your jeep?”

I turned to look out my window. “Yes. Why?”

There was a slight edge to his voice. “Did you leave the interior lights on?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” Looking back at my jeep, I could see the interior lights were on. I didn’t turn those on, did I? It was still light outside when I parked my jeep. I wouldn’t have had any reason to turn them on.

“Let’s check it out,” Al suggested.

My heart began racing as we stepped out of Al’s vehicle to examine my jeep. I went to unlock the driver’s side door.

Al was already on the other side of the jeep. “Hey, Kri? The passenger door is open.”

I opened the driver side door, my eyes raking over the interior of the jeep. “My stereo’s fine.” I looked at Al. “Wouldn’t that be the first thing someone would steal?” I paused as I dug through the glove box. “My vehicle registration is gone. Some of my CDs are missing. That’s it.”

Al’s eyebrows furrowed. “I think we should call the police.”

“Me too,” I reluctantly agreed.

Al smiled reassuringly as he eased me toward my apartment. “I’ll stay until they get here.”

“Thanks, Al. I’d like that.” I was trying to be brave about it, but I didn’t want to be by myself when someone had just broken into my vehicle, especially if that someone was Michael or Tom.

Al and I walked Cade while we waited for the police to arrive. Al stayed until the police finished taking my statement. Then he said good night with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

I really enjoyed my date with Al, but I was disappointed the evening had ended on such a sour note. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the break-in was more serious than it seemed. I was concerned that the person who took my vehicle registration now knew which apartment I lived in. I was hoping it was a perfect stranger. For some reason, that seemed better than the alternative. I was still fretting over the incident when I tucked Cade under my arm and padded off to bed.

* * *

I took a couple of days off work so I could go skiing at Big Sky and Bridger Bowl before the snow melted off the mountains entirely. It was early March. Only a handful of people were wearing jackets, and the snowboarders were carving up the mountains in shorts.

Charlie sent me to a leadership training in Kalispell shortly after I returned from the ski trip. Kimme was supposed to join Justin and me for the training, but she came down with a stomach bug and had to stay home. Justin and I drove up together, but we got into a huge fight the second night of the training. I ended up calling Kimme in tears. I wanted to bail on the training, but Kimme encouraged me to stay through the third day so I could at least earn my certificate. I was so angry with Justin that I paid for my own rental car so I wouldn’t have to ride back home in the same car with him.

I did everything I could to avoid Justin when I returned home. I holed up in my office, avoided his office, and drummed up excuses for skipping out on staff meetings. I also had to give up the gym, since he regularly worked out during the lunch hour and after work. Thankfully, the days were getting longer, the temperatures were hovering in the mid-sixties, and most of the snow had melted off Mount Helena. I was thrilled when I could finally start hiking again.

The fellowship application still niggled at the back of my brain every once in a while, but I tried not to think about it. Instead, I plugged away at my list of things to do for law school and buried myself in work.

* * *

“SAVE ME NOW.” I scribbled those three desperate words on a piece of paper, then held it up. I was waiting for Charlie to notice it from his office across the hall. He was stuck on the same conference call I was on, only he was shooting his Nerf gun at the ceiling and watching the bullets drop. I eyed him enviously. I wish I had a Nerf Gun. I wouldn’t be shooting it at the ceiling, though. I’d be shooting it at my head.

Why did talking to the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services always have to be so painful? Of course, it wasn’t like I was really talking. The staff at CMS never let us get a word in edgewise. This annoyed me to no end. If they allowed us an opportunity to speak, they might gain a better understanding of the challenges facing low income elderly people. I sat and contemplated the problems surrounding federal bureaucracy instead of listening to the voice droning in my ear. That’s precisely what I’d do if I landed that fellowship, I thought. I’d enlighten the feds about the issues facing the elderly in rural areas.

Ann popped her head into my office. “Kri, you need to answer your other line.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed at the phone. “C-M-S,” I mouthed as my eyes slid to the phone to make sure I was still on mute.

She scowled at me. “Put them on hold. The John Heinz Foundation is on the other line.”

The phone hit my desk just before my jaw did.

“Hurry!” she exclaimed excitedly.

I scrambled to pick up the phone. I hit the hold button, then pushed the button for Line 2. Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Senior and Long Term Care, Kristine speaking.” My eyes sought Ann’s, but she was already gone. Charlie, however, was staring straight at me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

He scribbled on a piece of paper with a black Sharpie pen. Then he held the sign up for me to read.

I TOLD YOU SO.

Charlie set the sign back down. He propped his feet up on his desk and reclined back in his chair with a smug look on his face.

I shot him the stink eye.

The phone call took less than three minutes, just long enough to schedule a phone interview. If I did well in the phone interview, the foundation would fly me to DC to interview in person. As soon as the call ended, I buried my head in my hands, completely oblivious to the call still holding on Line 1.

* * *

An hour later, I was pulled over on the side of the road, pounding my head against the steering wheel. My jeep had stalled in traffic, and now I couldn’t get it to move. What the heck? I picked up my cell phone to call Dan. “Dan, are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, sweetheart. What’s up?”

I stared at the darkening sky. God, I wish someone would just clone this guy. Like seriously mass produce him and sell him at Wal-Mart. Well, maybe not Wal-Mart. That would be insulting. Maybe at Dick’s Sports or Sears… in the tool section. Better yet, they should sell him in the tool section and the women’s section, so women were sure to find him. What girl didn’t need a Dan?

“Krissy?” Dan asked, snapping my thoughts back into place.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m stranded near the corner of Sanders and Broadway. My jeep’s not working. The engine’s running but it won’t move when I put it in drive or reverse. Do you have time to come take a look at it?”

“I’ll be right there.” Dan disconnected the call without saying goodbye.

Within minutes, I heard the deep rumble of Dan’s bike. I should have been surprised to see Dan on his bike in early March, but I wasn’t. A warm chinook wind had ushered in unseasonably warm weather, and we were all itching to be done with winter.

Dan had always been one to go against the grain, so he shunned the stereotypical Harley most Vietnam Vets preferred to ride. I watched in my rear view mirror as he eased his black Honda Shadow behind me. He removed his helmet, kicked the stand down with his heel, and sidled up to my jeep. He was wearing faded blue jeans, black combat boots, and a black POW MIA bomber jacket, which was covered in patches. His unruly blond hair, deliberate steps, and lithe form always carried a hint of danger. He reminded me of a mountain lion... lethal but with an easy grace. Dan leaned against my open window and smiled. “Hi-ya, darlin’. You okay?”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat as my eyes welled with tears.

Dan sighed sympathetically. “Oh, Krissy. Lock up and grab your keys.” He handed me Kimme’s candy apple red helmet, which I couldn’t help but notice was the same color she wore on her nails most days. Let’s take your keys over to my friend Rick’s shop. He’ll come back for the jeep. He’ll take good care of you. I promise.” Dan’s promise was as good as gold. As one of the youngest men to serve in Vietnam, he was a bit broken but a hero in every sense of the word.

As I tugged Kimme’s helmet on and slid behind Dan on the bike, I wondered who was going to take care of me if I moved to DC. Dan was like my knight in shining armor. Well, if I were being completely honest, Dan wasn’t exactly my knight in shining armor. He was Kimme’s knight in shining armor, but she was really good about sharing him with me. I tried not to abuse the privilege too much. But it was nice to know someone cared and was willing to help when I was blindsided by those rare damsel-in-distress moments.

As Dan pulled away from the curb, he wrapped my arms around his chest and patted my hand. I couldn’t be sure whether it was the impending interview, my jeep breaking down, or having to be rescued by Dan yet again, but I suddenly found myself overwhelmed with tears.

* * *

Kimme was supposed to pick me up for work the next morning. Dan showed up instead. Tension rolled off him in waves when I greeted him at the door.

My eyes widened when I got a good look at his face. “Dan… are you okay?” He did not look okay.

“I will be after I kill the MF who messed with your jeep,” Dan gritted through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean ‘messed with my jeep?’” I threw finger quotes around the last four words.

“I mean ‘messed with your jeep.’ Someone drilled holes in your transmission pan so all of the fluid would leak out. Someone wanted you stranded.” Dan’s hands were fisting and unfisting. He looked like he was about ready to blow a gasket.

My eyes traveled from his fists to his face as his words sank in. “Oh, God. I think I’m going to…” I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I heaved into the toilet, then sat and contemplated the cleanliness of the tile on my bathroom floor while I gathered the energy to push myself back onto my feet. I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face before returning to the living room.

Dan was pacing restlessly across the living room floor. He stilled when I entered the room. “Who was it Krissy? Garcia or Campbell?” He always referred to Michael and Tom by their last names. I wondered if that was a military thing.

I swallowed. Hard. “God, I don’t know, Dan. I don’t think Tom knows where I live. Michael does, but Michael doesn’t strike me as the type who can operate a screwdriver, let alone drill holes in my transmission. Tom is a mechanic… a transmission mechanic.”

My heart tripped, then slammed into my chest. My eyes met Dan’s. “Oh, God. What if Tom has finally found me? What if he knows where I live? He threatened to kill me when I left.” I didn’t doubt he would... not for one minute. I glanced around my apartment frantically. What if he broke into my apartment?

A determined look settled over Dan’s face. “Pack your shit, Krissy. You’re moving back in with us.”

“Dan, I can’t keep…” I choked down a sob. I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“You can and you will. This isn’t optional. Go. Pack.” Dan snatched Cade from the couch and strode determinedly out the front door.

I pulled the suitcase from the back of the closet and loaded it up with a random assortment of clothes. I grabbed my makeup, perfume, and toothbrush from the bathroom, then hauled my suitcase to the living room. I dropped onto my hands and knees so I could dig Cade’s ball out from under the couch.

Dan was on the phone talking to Charlie. “I’ll have her there in an hour, but you talk to security and make sure everyone in that building knows about this. I don’t want Garcia or Campbell anywhere near that place; and I want security walking her in and out of that building.” He paused, eying me closely. “I don’t want her so much as taking a pee without an escort.”

My fingers tightened around the blue racquetball. I rose to my feet and narrowed my eyes at Dan, weighing whether to argue that last point.

Dan scowled as he widened his stance.

I huffed out a breath as I shoved the racquetball into my suitcase. I reined in my retort as I handed the suitcase to Dan. There was no arguing with that look.