THANKS, PAUL! “Are you folding?” Paul Ryan's hazel-green eyes flickered from his cards to his fiancée. Positioned horizontally on the floor, one of his hands casually propped up his face while the other held five playing cards. “I've got a full house,” Meg Snyder announced, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear and laying her cards before her on the floor. The living room of Fairwinds Mansion was in total disarray. Her calf-length boots had been thrown far behind her, as well as her skirt, nylons and dark purple blouse. “Urggh.” Paul slammed his pair of sixes down and sat up. Should have known this was a bad idea, he thought while unhooking the buttons on his dark green shirt. He tossed the shirt to the coffee table on his right. It missed and landed on the carpet next to his shoes and socks. They drew from the deck again. Paul glanced at his hand. Two of a kind – this time aces. Hoping Meg wouldn't notice, Paul's eyes darted to the sofa next to him. Was he desperate enough? It was Meg's gleeful comment that ultimately led to his snap-decision. “This has to be the best idea you've had in a long ti– mmmh -,” she broke off as he leaned over suddenly and placed an intense kiss on her lips. Her free hand automatically went to his neck, and she didn't seem to want him to stop. While his left hand made its way to her back and playfully fingered the clasp on her bra, his right hand retrieved the two aces that he had hidden underneath the sofa. Suddenly, she pushed him away and giggled, “Okay, enough! I know what you're doing.” “Oh, I hope so,” Paul grinned. “I want that full house –.” Dropping his cards carelessly, he pushed Meg back down on the floor and they resumed kissing. Unfortunately, the moment his lips moved over to her the side of her neck, she was able to speak again, breathless though she was. “ Uh …Paul…. ha… hey, stop it! You're – distracting – me !” she struggled to say, still responding to him. Finally, she resisted him altogether and pushed him off again. “You know how important this is to me. And to my family.” Straightening up once more, Paul said very soberly, “Yeah, I know what's at stake.” Meg looked at her cards and sighed. “Small straight. Well, maybe we can invite your mother here for Thanksgiving, and see my family for Christmas.” She sounded so melancholy and depressed. Paul looked down at his own stolen hand and sighed as well. “You know what? I haven't even discarded yet,” he said to her, putting three of his aces face down, and drawing some random cards from the deck. “I've got nothing,” he told her. Meg's reaction alone was worth it. Beaming, she flung her arms around him and knocked him backwards, crying out happily, “My mother will be so happy we're going to have Thanksgiving at the farm again! Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone about the engagement!” She flashed the diamond ring on her hand so that it sparkled. “I can't wait either,” Paul attempted to sound enthused. Then he looked into her dark eyes. They were sparkling even more than her diamond. ************ November 26 th had come all too quickly. As Paul prepared to break the news to his mother over the phone – he knew he wouldn't have the heart to do it looking into Barbara Ryan's huge brown eyes that welled with tears all too often – Meg came into the living room with their screaming eleven-month old daughter. Anxiously, Meg interrupted, “Hey, can you take her for a second?” “Just one minute, Mom,” Paul said, putting the phone aside on his desk. “What's wrong?” he said while wresting Eliza from Meg's arms. “AAAAA-huh! AAAAAh!!” Eliza shrieked. “I think she's cutting more teeth,” Meg said, digging into her purse and taking a tiny liquid dropper out. “It's okay, honey,” she soothed. “Mommy will make it better.” The baby continued to wail. Meg held up the medicine for the dropper, but Eliza's hand knocked it to the ground. While Meg bent to pick it up, Paul patted Eliza's dark curls and began bouncing her. In a moment so quick it was nearly miraculous, the fussy child began to quiet and suck on her fist. “Okay, I'm ready,” said Meg. With Eliza close to his chest, Paul said softly, “Hey, guess what? Mommy has medicine for your owie. Say aah! Come on,” he wheedled. “You were yelling it just two seconds ago. Haah !” Eliza was looking up at him, so he crossed his eyes briefly and gave her a goofy smile. It worked. “Haha, Dah-dy!” While Eliza was giggling and pointing at Paul's expression, Meg very quickly dabbed the dropper onto the gums of their child's mouth. “There!' she said with relief. “We should do that more often.” “Do what?” said Paul blankly. “Teamwork,” she winked. “ Paul? Honey, are you there?” Barbara's voice echoed through the cordless phone. He had completely forgotten about his mother. Handing Eliza back over to Meg, he picked up the phone and said quickly, “Sorry about that. Um, listen, I know this is last minute, but is it too late for you to make arrangements to have Thanksgiving dinner at Will and Gwen's?” “No, actually, they're expecting me,” Barbara said with a knowing tone. “I take it you're having dinner with the Snyder clan again.” “Yup.” “Did you lose again?” Barbara wanted to know. She had become accustomed to walking in on Paul and Meg half-dressed, practicing their brand new method for compromise. But Paul looked over at Meg, who was sitting with Eliza on the couch, dressing her in a brown jumper with a turkey embroidered on the front. “Nope,” he decided. “I definitely didn't lose.” ************ Paul was always amazed at how Emma Snyder's tiny kitchen could fit close to twenty people at once. Even more remarkable was the fact that Paul was able to commune with these people when the majority of them were wary and distrusting of him. Sometimes even hostile – he had been kicked out of the house while trying to see Meg so many times he'd lost count. And about eighty-seven percent of the time the Snyders were only too happy to brandish Emma's legendary shotgun. The only good thing about that gun was hearing Meg's complaint that she could never figure out how to use it. But there was Meg's brother Holden, whose pale blue eyes could freeze hell over; at least, that was the impression Paul got whenever Holden stared him down in a piercing manner. Holden's wife, Lily, wasn't much better – the identical twin of Paul's dead lover, Rose, Lily had the power to make Paul hate himself by just letting him look at her. He was only lucky enough that she didn't like to talk about Rose anymore; it was easier to forget how he had both dumped Rose at the altar and inadvertently played a role in her death. Lily and Holden had a whole brood of kids. The eldest, Luke, was Lily's son with Damian Grimaldi, but he was also adopted by Holden. Luke was a cool kid, but he wasn't too fond of Paul. Between Damian (who didn't like him) and Holden and Lily (they really didn't like him), Paul wondered how Luke tolerated him being a permanent fixture in his aunt's life. Then there was sweet Faith, a teenage girl Paul had befriended a couple years back. If Eliza was going to turn out like any of the Snyders, Paul hoped that she would take after Faith. Paul had never spoken to the youngest girl, a tomboy named Natalie; however, he had managed to somehow be both a hero and a villain to five-year-old Ethan by accidentally putting the boy in danger and then rescuing him several times. But the one he feared most tonight was the matriarch of the Snyders. He surmised that he'd sit in the chair closest to the door; that way if Emma took the news of Meg's engagement to him less than positively, Paul could be out of there before Emma whipped out her shotgun. The smells of spiced baked yams, roast turkey, buttered potatoes, and fresh stuffing were wafting from the Snyder House when Meg and Eliza arrived, Paul trailing behind them. Loud voices were heard from inside the house, Paul was pretty sure he heard the word “money” come up in conversation at least five times before he opened the door for Meg and Eliza. At once, Emma was alerted by her “Baby Girl” radar. “Meg!! Oh, my baby girl brought her own baby girl!” She shuffled to Meg and Eliza, and proceeded to smother them in kisses. The other Snyders, including Meg's cousins Jack and Brad, echoed in, “Hey Meg!” So far, so good, Paul thought. Would he be lucky enough to play the invisible man all evening? “Paul!” the excited voice of a boy called out, which caused everyone's heads to turn. Faith Snyder had come in with her little brother Ethan, with a guilty smile on her face and an eager one on his. Ethan stumbled in between the curious adults. Once he had finally made his way to Paul, he waved, “Hi Future Man!” “Hey Ethan,” Paul chuckled. “Who's Future Man?” “You're Future Man! Faith told me about your superpowers!” “She did?” Almost embarrassed, Faith explained, “Sorry, I didn't think he'd believe me. I was telling him how you could see the future. Remember when you had those visions and saved me and Parker from that wild dog, and then you saved Ethan from food-poisoning…” Uncomfortable, Paul tried to smile. “Hey, no problem, Faith.” In truth, he was quite happy to not think about his old ability to see the future, which seemed to have faded away with time. He always questioned his own sanity whenever the images of things that might or might not happen popped into his head. His attention returning to the others in the room, he could see immediate reservations in their faces. Emma glanced at him and said quickly, “Well, everyone sit down, it's time to say grace.” Paul checked his watch. It had only been one minute since he'd set foot in Emma Snyder's kitchen, and already he was getting the cold shoulder. Oh well, at least there would be pie. ************** “So, as I was saying,” Brad Snyder continued at the table, his mouth swallowing turkey in between sentences, “between the economy, and recent bad ratings, Oakdale Now is just not going to survive the recession.” “Oh, Brad,” sighed his very pregnant wife, Katie. “It's not the end of the world, we've both dealt with unemployment before. We'll be fine.” “Yeah, but we've never been jobless with a kid on the way,” Brad said, looking over at Eliza, who was in her highchair smashing some potatoes with her little spoon. Paul was sitting next to Eliza, trying to get her to eat some jellied cranberries. Instead, all he managed to do was encourage a one-sided food-fight, as she flung her food at him. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned around. Meg was holding up a cloth napkin. “Thanks,” he said, taking it and wiping his face. “How about you let me take over? Get something to eat,” she suggested. Reluctantly, he switched seats with her so that he was next to Brad. Jack's wife, Janet, said, “Well, if you need anything, Brad, at least you know you can count on your family.” She nudged her husband, and Jack quickly said to his brother, “Yeah, we've got your back.” Holden agreed, “If you or Katie need anything, just let us know. That's what families are for.” Paul caught the icy glance directed at him from across the table. “Speaking of family –,” Emma finally said, “Paul, I thought you'd be spending Thanksgiving with yours.” “Oh, well, my mom is spending Thanksgiving with my brother and his family, and Meg wanted to spend with Thanksgiving here, so we had to make a choice.” “Of course you did....well, I'm very glad my daughter and her daughter could join us,” said Emma, giving Paul a look that too plainly said, you didn't have to come with them. Paul turned to Meg, his eyes pleading the message help me! She cleared her throat and winked, “It was pretty interesting how we sorted this whole thing out with the holidays. We're going to spend Christmas with Barbara this year. And next year, we'll reverse and spend Thanksgiving with her as well.” Surprised, Emma said, “Really, that's very nice. Next year…” her voice trailed off. She obviously wasn't counting on Paul being in Meg's life next year, as frequent as their break-ups went. A clueless Brad pitched in, “That's cool. You know, it's really hard to negotiate on these holiday situations. Katie and I can never decide on whether to have Thanksgiving with Tom and Margo or with everyone here. It's not fun.” Meg chuckled, “It was definitely fun for us. We played cards to settle our differences.” “Really?” asked Brad, intrigued. “Cool, what game?” “Strip poker,” Meg said without hesitation. “Sweet!” Brad laughed at the same time Katie said, “Wow! That's hot!” Even Janet asked Jack, “Why can't we fight like that?” Jack shot her a look of incredulity. SHING! Paul winced as Emma stabbed the turkey with a very large knife. “Yeah,” Meg smiled. “Paul let me win, though.” She sent a loving smile his way. “I did?” Paul asked. “No, no I didn't.” He looked at her, completely shocked. “Oh, come on, you thought I wouldn't find your discard pile? You had at least three aces in there!” “That is so sweet!” gushed Katie. Brad grinned, “Well, I think we all just learned about a new form of couple's therapy!” “Highly recommend it,” Paul couldn't resist adding. Then Holden said, “I'm sure you would, but there are kids here at the table who don't need to hear this.” Paul glanced over at the snickering adolescents. Fine by me, it's not like I brought it up. He turned to Meg, who looked absolutely pleased with herself. ************ After dinner was over, Meg stayed behind to help her mother clean up the dishes. Paul waited until Emma was outside saying goodbye, then he came up behind Meg and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed. “I'm sorry.” “For what?” he said, holding her while she finished rinsing of the last plate. “For being selfish. I know this wasn't the way you wanted to spend the holiday, but it meant so much to me,” she murmured. “It's okay,” he said softly in her ear, breathing in the scent of her hair. “You can make it up to me later.” “Yuk!” Eliza shouted from behind them. Paul turned around. Eliza was still encrusted with a mixture of mashed potatoes and cranberries. He grabbed a wet wash cloth and went to clean her up. While he was gently dabbing her face, he mused, “So what do you think, Eliza? Was tonight fun?” “Cake,” she said. “Oh, sorry, Princess, we didn't have any cake. But you'll have some next month for your birthday. And then again for the wedding…” Meg put the last of the dishes away and said while drying her hands, “We haven't even set a date. Maybe we should talk about it.” Um…okay.” To be honest, Paul wasn't in any rush to get married; for the first time in his life, he enjoyed taking slow steps to get there. Remembering his previous track record in marriages, maybe it was best he and Meg take their time. “I was thinking we could get married on Christmas.” Christmas…too close to Eliza's birthday. “I don't know, it might be a little soon,” said Paul. Meg raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “A little soon? Paul, I want us to be a real family by the time Eliza has her first birthday.” “December 25 th is cutting it pretty close,” he said carefully. “Well, yeah, but I think it'll work that way.” “What'll work that way?” “I was thinking…if we get married on Christmas, then it will make our marriage…” she blushed, very embarrassed. “Make our marriage what? Perfect? I don't get what you're trying to say…” “It will make our marriage last , Paul. I think we both need to remember what's important. I know things have been great between us lately, but they might not be a couple of months from now, and I think we should remember every year on Christmas that –.” Paul shook his head. “I don't think it works like that. I wish it did, but all it could end up being is a day we'll come to dread because our marriage failed again. Can't we get married on a day that won't be ruined because that happens?” “What do you mean?” Meg demanded, getting upset. “I love you, Paul. This time, it will work.” He sighed, feeling guilty. “I love you too, but I've come to accept that we're probably going to go through several divorces in order to get it right.” Meg's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? You proposed to me last month! Are you taking it back? “Of course not!” exclaimed Paul. “I just want to be more careful now. Meg –,” he called out her name as she turned her back to him and stormed out the door. Just at the same moment Emma was returning to the kitchen. “What did you do to my daughter now?” she demanded. Defensively, Paul snapped, “I did exactly what you'd want me to do. She wants to get married next month, and I said we should wait.” Emma's eyes narrowed in the same way Meg's had before she left the room. “Why would she want to get married next month? Wait a moment - you proposed, didn't you?” she accused. “I did,” Paul admitted. “I love her, but she's…she's like you.” The expression on Emma's face was hilarious – if Paul hadn't felt so miserable at the moment, he would have laughed at her. “What? What do you mean by that?” Emma said sharply. “I mean, she still doesn't listen. And she hates it when I don't agree with her; she always has to have things her way. I've learned a lot this past year, I've had to learn to bend on this stuff, but she needs to do the same. Otherwise, we're not going to make it. And it would kill me to lose her one more time.” Emma nodded. “I see. Well, I won't lie and say I approve of your relationship with Meg, but you do make sense.” Paul was surprised. “I do make sense?” he asked slowly. Emma nodded sagely. She picked up a wooden spoon that Meg had washed and put it in a drawer. “Except on the part where I don't listen,” she chuckled to herself. Suddenly, Eliza gurgled, “No-no-no!” Paul smiled tiredly and rubbed out the tension that was forming in his temples. ************** He had expected to find Meg on the porch once he took Eliza outside; however, he found Brad instead. “Where's Meg?” Paul asked. “Talking to Katie. They're bonding over pregnancy woes.” “Really?” Brad nodded, his breath forming into mist in the chilly night air. “Should be back anytime.” “I'm almost afraid she won't come back,” Paul confessed with a shrug. “You two had a fight?” “I guess.” “Probably nothing your little remedy won't solve,” Brad said lightly. “I'm telling you, man, it's a good thing you don't have to worry about how you're going to support your family. Total stress. Good thing I have a back-up plan.” Curious, Paul asked, “What back-up plan?” Brad said in a co-conspiratorial manner, “I know a guy named Martin who's in the airline business, you know, the kind that gives away free vacations? It's called Travails.” It sounded like a marketing scam. Readjusting Eliza in his arms, Paul said carefully to Brad, “Are you sure it's legit?” “What? Oh yeah, totally,” said Brad. “But I haven't told Katie yet, because I want it to be a surprise. Plus, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like the idea, you know? She'd probably be paranoid it wouldn't work. Why do these women get so ticked every time we're looking out for their best interests?” Paul gave a low chuckle. Why indeed? From the distance, he could hear Meg's and Katie's voices chatting and laughing. “Mama?” Eliza said. The women showed up moments later. “Hi, you guys,” smiled Katie. Meg would not look at Paul. Brad muttered so that only Paul could hear. “Uh-oh. Good luck, Ryan.” He clapped Paul on the back and joined Katie. “Happy Thanksgiving, Meg!” Katie called over her shoulder as she and Brad left. “You too!” Meg replied. “Bye!” “Buh!” Eliza called after them as well. There was silence in the car ride home. Paul could not think of a single thing to say. Neither could Meg, apparently. As for Eliza, she simply fell asleep the moment she was placed in her car seat. When they were back at Fairwinds, Meg went to put Eliza down in the nursery. Paul waited upstairs in the master bedroom. She never came, and he fell asleep waiting for Meg to join him. Finally, at two in the morning, he awakened and stumbled downstairs. She was asleep on the sofa. With a fleeting irritation that realized there was a space between them, a space created out of the most ridiculous reasons, Paul only had to look at her to quell that resentment building inside him. He draped the blanket over her sleeping form, and kissed her cheek before returning upstairs. He thought of one last thing before the morning came: I need to fix this.
TWO WEEKS LATER
Out of the corner of his eye, Paul saw a scrolled-up paper by his head. He ignored it and raised his cup of coffee to his lips. Sooner or later, though, one of them was going to have to break down. Since he knew for sure that he hadn't done anything wrong this time, it was not going to be him. Meg set the paper down on the table, with the headline facing up. It read in bold, Travails Airlines Contest a Scam! Down below, there was an article entitled, “Airline Business Sweepstakes Does Not Fly.” Travails? Why did that name sound so familiar? Paul's eyes skimmed the article, and read aloud to himself, “Martin Travails, a former travel agent, is suspected of embezzling millions of dollars for a fraudulent airline giveaway. Police are still looking for Travails, who disappeared shortly before he was notified to the authorities.” Paul remembered on Thanksgiving Brad had talked about how his “buddy” Martin was going to help him out financially. He absentmindedly wondered how deep Brad was in with this scheme. Well, since it looked like Meg wasn't going to open up to him anytime soon, it was about time Paul did something productive. Just as Meg was coming into the living room with Eliza, Paul picked up his keys. “Where are you going?” Paul shrugged and said simply, “Out. Have a nice day.” He flashed a smile at her that seemed to leave her completely confounded. Then he was gone. ************** Paul wasn't sure where to find Brad Snyder. Being a TV star meant he probably wasn't listed in a phone book. He supposed he could have asked Meg for Brad's number, but that would have led to more questions than he'd like. While checking the WOAK station, he found Brad's boss, who was Paul's very own Great-Aunt Kim. Kim Hughes was a friendly woman with short silver-white hair, and she liked to call people things like “pal” and “kiddo.” “Hello, Paul,” she had said in surprise as soon as she saw him searching through the WOAK building. “It's great to see you. How's your mom doing?” “She's doing well; she's happy she got to see Will, Gwen, and Hallie for Thanksgiving,” Paul replied. “So, is Brad Snyder around?” “What, you're not just here to see me?” Kim jokingly hit him in the arm. They laughed, and she said, “It's all right, pal. He just left. I think he's still in the parking lot if you want to catch him. Although, I must warn you, he's not in the best of moods today.” “Okay, thanks!” Paul yelled over his shoulder as he ran, remembering to add, “It was nice to see you too!” Down in the parking lot, Paul found Brad, who was leaning against his car talking on a cell phone.” “Brad –,” Paul began. “Man, leave me alone,” Brad groaned. “Sorry, I just wanted to –,” Paul tried again, but Brad held up a hand. “One moment, Ryan.” Brad continued his phone conversation with, “No, I had no idea. And yeah, I know how many people were ripped off!” He snapped his phone shut and slammed it onto the frost-covered hood of his car. To Paul, he said, “I'm really sorry, but this is such a not good time.” “Yeah, I heard,” said Paul. “Anything I can do to help?” Brad grimaced. “Not unless you can go back in time and change it so that I'd never met Martin Travails and funded his scam.” Paul nodded curtly. “I'll see what I can do.” While walking away, he heard Brad mutter, “Yeah right. While you're at it, you can also make the sun come out. I'm freezing!” Paul pulled his long wool coat on tighter. It's definitely a pain for Christmastime , he thought as he walked past some carolers. ************** Not wanting to waste any time, Paul immediately went to Metro to see Bonnie McKechnie about fixing Brad's situation. Unfortunately, she was busy flirting with one of his least favorite people, Dusty Donovan. Sipping her cosmopolitan, Bonnie asked Dusty coyly, “So what do you mean, you like helping people? You're saying that rescuing damsels in distress does nothing for your ego?” Dusty replied with a smirk, “Would you believe me if I say yes?” After debating whether he should interrupt or not, Paul figured Bonnie would probably thank him one day for it, if she ever came to her senses. “Hey, Bonnie? Bonnie? I need to talk to you.” Dusty rolled his eyes. “Get lost, Ryan,” he growled. “Screw yourself, Donovan.” Paul retorted. “Bonnie, this is important.” Reluctantly, Bonnie asked, “Okay, what is it, Paul?” “You know about that Travails scam?” Bonnie groaned. “Don't remind me, there are a ton of people asking me to file lawsuits for them against Travails.” “Great,” said Paul. “I need you to drop them from your case load.” “Excuse me?” He explained to her Brad's situation, making it clear that if the police linked Martin Travails to Brad, he would be ruined. And, more than anything, that Brad needed a lawyer. An attentive Bonnie listened, and said sympathetically, “Paul, I'm sorry. This is a conflict of interest for my other cases. I can't represent them and Brad at the same time.” “Which is why I asked you to pass your other clients to someone else.” “It doesn't make sense for me to drop the lawsuits that I can win in favor of one a defense case I'll probably lose. Paul, no.” “What do you care anyway?” Dusty called out from the end of the counter. “What's in it for you?” “Absolutely nothing!” Paul shot back at him. But Bonnie said apologetically, “Paul, he's right. This is not something you would normally do.” “Okay. Tell me then, what would I normally do?” “No offense, but aren't you normally plotting out your revenges, figuring out how to move people around like chess pieces? Face it, Paul, you're more of the Count of Monte Cristo type. Not Robin Hood.” What on earth was she talking about? Paul snapped, “Great, so Brad screwed up and is going to be left holding the bag for a marketing scam, and you're saying I can't do anything about it because I don't do nice things for people? At the same time Dusty said, “Yes,” Bonnie said loudly, “No! Shut up, Dusty. Paul, I'm saying that this isn't your responsibility. I know you want to help, but I think you have had enough problems to deal with. Remember when you wanted so much to save the Snyder farm that you went bankrupt trying to fix the situation?” “Oh, so you're admitting I did something good?” “I'm sure you had the best intentions, but they didn't save the day, which is what you planned, right?” Paul didn't understand. On one hand, he was getting flack for being selfish; on the other hand, it was a bad idea for him to help others? He wondered about that as he stepped outside Metro. Snowflakes that had just started falling from the ivory sky flew before his face. His first thought was to go home and take Eliza outside, maybe for a sleigh ride if the snow kept building up. Even Meg might enjoy it. Instead, he saw Brad driving by in his car. Shivering, he waved and Brad slowed down. Once Brad had rolled down his car window, Paul asked, “I was wondering – do you know how to contact Martin Travails?” “No way.” “Brad, listen to me very carefully. I have an idea on how to help you. But I need to know how to find Travails.” Squinting because the snow flurries were getting in his eyes, Brad stammered, “I- I can't. If people find out what I know, I'll go to jail. And if Travails is caught, he'll rat me out and I'll still go to jail. I don't even think his headquarters are open anymore…” His expression shifted, and Paul could tell that a thinking bulb had just been flicked on. “What is it?” “His headquarters! Get in, I'll explain on the way.” Tis the season, a voice in Paul's head chimed. ************** “Brad, this is the WorldWide building,” Paul said, looking at where they had ended up. “I know!” Brad said excitedly. “Travails had an office here awhile ago, under a different name, of course, but the computer he used for everything should be still set up…” Once they were in the basement level, Brad showed Paul to Martin Travails's old workroom. It was pretty sparse, except for a chair and an old-school desktop on a table that was covered in dust. Paul plugged the cord to the outlet in the corner and pushed the power switch. Once the screen was activated, it displayed a message. “Password…” Brad tapped the table with two fingers, and said, “Try Hercules.” Paul typed it in. “Access denied.” “Shoot…okay, how about Hancock?” Paul tried again. The security message read that he had only one log-in attempt left. “Okay, I know that it started with an ‘H'. And I could have sworn it was some legendary name.” Drawing a deep breath, Paul figured his guess was as good as Brad's. He typed in “hood.” Access granted! “How the hell did you do that?” asked Brad in amazement. Paul shrugged. “Thank Bonnie McKechnie for her Robin Hood reference. Okay…here we go. Investors.” He clicked on the icon. A list of names appeared on the screen, with Brad Snyder at the top of the list. The police couldn't arrest Brad if his name wasn't on the list. Paul clicked the name, and an option showed up as “delete investor?” Paul clicked yes. Brad's name vanished from the list. Next, he opened up the “transfer account” option. “What are you doing?” Brad asked. “Returning all of the money. I'm guessing a lot of parents want to do Christmas shopping for their kids.” Suddenly, footsteps from the stairwell thumped their way down. He told Brad, “Listen, you need to get out of here. I think someone's coming.” “No way, I'm not leaving you here to get caught –.” “I'll be fine. I just need to finish this up. You need to think about Katie and your baby, okay? If I'm caught – whatever. Just don't take the fall for this, whatever you do.” Brad nodded. “Thanks, Paul. I owe you.” He opened the door and left. Working quickly, Paul was just in the process of transferring the last account when the door burst open again. ************** The interrogation room at the Oakdale Police Department was supposed to make one feel intimidated. However, Paul just felt like a student who was waiting for the bell to ring so that he could get out of detention. Jack Snyder stood over him with crossed arms. It was almost insulting that Jack was so unsurprised at the charges brought against Paul. “ Sooo , one more time, Paul. Tell me what you were doing with Martin Travails's computer.” “I was wiring his bank account so that the money he had stolen would be returned to its owners,” Paul said tonelessly. “Really?” said Jack yet again. “No, Jack, I was actually checking out the online Playboys. Yes, really! Listen, I have absolutely no connection whatsoever to this Travails guy.” “And even if you did, it would be hard to prove because you were messing with his online personal contact information. I know. Paul, if you were really doing what you say you were doing, you could have just let the police do the transferring. This, this was stupid.” Paul retorted, “Okay, if the Oakdale PD is so smart, why couldn't it do what I did sooner? ” Before Jack could respond, there was a knock on the door. Officer Dallas Griffin poked his head in and announced, “Paul's bail has been paid.” “Already?” asked Jack. “Don't look so disappointed, Jack. I'm sure this isn't over,” Paul remarked. “You're damn right, it's not. Go on home.” Meg came in with her arms cross. The first thing Paul had done upon his arrest was call her, and he knew she wasn't pleased at all to see him here. She walked past him and said somberly to Jack, “I was supposed to tell you that Brad's at the hospital.” With uncanny timing, Paul and Jack both said, “Is he okay?” “Yeah, he's fine,” said Meg, giving Paul a curt glance. “Katie went into labor today, so he had to go be with her.” Jack's jaw dropped. “Katie's having her baby?” From over in the corner, Margo cried with jubilation, “Oh my God! And no one told me?! I'm heading over there right now. Jack, are you coming?” “Duh!” Jack raced over to the door and held it open for Margo. Meg beamed momentarily. As always, Paul thought she looked radiant. Then she turned around and muttered, “Let's go, Paul.” As he followed her out of the police station, Paul had a feeling he wasn't going to enjoy the evening as much as he'd hoped. ************** “So you paid for my bail and still won't talk to me,” Paul remarked to Meg from the sofa at Fairwinds. Pacing and looking absolutely frustrated, she finally threw her hands up in the air. “What do you want me to say, Paul? Congratulations, you fooled me again?” Paul leaned forward and repeated, “Fooled – again?” “You heard me. This is it. I'm done.” She marched past him, but he stood and grabbed her hand. Paul felt like he had whiplash. “Wait a minute, you don't even know what happened. How can you leave?” His eyes searched hers, hoping to see some remnant of what once was. All he saw now were weary lines and dark circles. Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to convey two weeks' worth of pent-up frustrations to him. “Is this why you didn't want to marry me right away? You were in on this money-laundering scam?” Was she insane? “You know what?” he said in concern, “I think you're really stressed out and tired, and you're not making any sense right now. Why don't you get some sleep?” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away. “Do. Not. Do. That!” she said through clenched teeth, angry tears forming in her eyes. And suddenly, Paul realized he was done too, much more so than Meg was. He was done with her fickle, hot-and-cold, love-you-love-you-not behavior. He was done with not knowing what she wanted because of how often she changed her mind. He was over all of it. “You know something? You want to go, there's the door. If it's that easy for you to walk away, to throw this away, then I don't want you here. If I'm just someone to fight with, and not worth fighting to keep in your life, you shouldn't be here.” His voice shook slightly during his entire rant, but he kept his composure calm and controlled. Meg stared at him. It was the moment of truth; what would she say?” “I'll be back tomorrow to pick up Eliza.” An hour later, she was out with her bags. ************* Instead of going back to her mother's farm to hear another lecture about how Emma was right about Paul and she was wrong, Meg had checked into the Lakeview Hotel for the night. However, she received a call from Brad early the next morning to meet her in the hospital. “How's Katie?” Meg asked excitedly upon arriving at Oakdale Memorial and seeing her cousin. “How's the baby doing?” “Beautiful!” Brad exclaimed. “I have a son!” He threw his arms around a complete stranger and began to joyfully dance back and forth. “Uh, congratulations,” came the voice of his muffled prisoner. “Thanks!” He released the man, who ran faster than a bolt of lightning. Meg made her way over and embraced her cousin. “I'm so happy for you!” she said warmly. “Where's Paul?” Brad asked. “He needs to meet little Ryan!” Meg blinked. “Ryan?” she asked, unsure she had heard correctly. “Yeah, Katie and I owe him big time. I'm telling you, if it weren't for Paul, we would have lost everything.” “What do you mean?” asked Meg, puzzled. “Paul was involved in that Travails scam.” Brad shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, I was. I let him cover for me so that I wouldn't get into trouble with the family. Very selfish, I know. You have every right to hate me. But you've gotta know, Meg, that Paul was the one who helped me. He's the one that arranged for all the money that was stolen to be given back to everyone.” Meg was stunned. “Paul – Paul did that?” she repeated doubtfully. “Yeah, he wired all of the money back into its rightful accounts! He had told me to get out of there and under no circumstance accept responsibility if he was caught.” Brad shifted his weight guiltily. “I'm really sorry, Meg. I feel horrible about getting Paul into so much trouble. I just didn't want to risk my kid growing up without me.” Meg repeated in disbelief, “So you were willing to let my own child grow up without her father instead?!” He protested, “No, no, no – I wasn't going to let it get that far. But you've got to hand it to Paul for being resourceful. I'm sure he would have found a way out of this mess, anyways.” *************** I should definitely consider moving in here , Paul thought. He was in the wine cellar, an ingenious solution to avoiding the world that hated him. Slouching in a plush armchair in the corner, he took a swig of wine straight from the bottle. Lazily he turned the bottle over to check the brand. The fancy script seemed to float before his eyes, and he felt like falling asleep. “Paul?” called Meg. The sound of her shoes clacking on the stone floor snapped Paul out of his daze. She paused at the entryway upon seeing him, and said with relief, “Hey! I've been looking everywhere for you!” “Haven't been everywhere,” he drawled. Concerned, Meg picked up the bottle that he was about to drop. “A 1986 Hermitage?” “Is that what it's called? Hermitage…doesn't sound like such a bad idea,” Paul mumbled. Meg let out a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a sigh. “Brad told me what you did for him. What you did for a lot of people…” she added on a soft note. Great, she knows. Now what? All is well again? Paul thought cynically. He shrugged and muttered, “Surprise…” “Why didn't you tell me?” Meg murmured, gently placing a hand on his face so that his gaze was on hers. “Don't you trust me, Paul?” Paul shifted uncomfortably. He rose in a rather wobbly manner. Meg moved to support him, but he didn't need her help. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand so he could speak first. “I know there have been times where I've done things to impress you,” he began. “I know that in the past, I've tried to…win your affection. This time was different. I didn't do it for you, and I sure as hell didn't do it for me. I did it because people needed my help. I did it for them. Meg…” Her mouth was quivering. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Paul asked himself whether this was the end of the road for them. Unable to bear the pain of watching her for one more moment, he began to leave. Her hand caught his, and he stopped. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. Desperate, she repeated, “I am so sorry, Paul. I never realized all this time what I was doing to you. You were right,” her voice choked. “You were right, it is so easy for me to just walk away. And if you want to do that right now, I can't blame you for it. But I promise you I will do everything in my power…to convince you to stay with me.” He was hearing things. God, was this real? “Can I hold you to that?” he challenged. “Relationships take work, Meg. You're going to have to work to keep us.” Were his eyes watering? Damn, he didn't care. His voice quaked a little. “I can't keep pushing and pulling and fighting and doing things your way just to keep us anymore. No more running away because you're scared, or because you're angry, or disappointed. If we're in this, and we're in this forever, then it's not going to be forever perfection.” Meg nodded. “I, Meg Snyder, swear to you – and you can hold me to this, Paul Ryan – I am done running. I need you in my life, and will do anything and everything to keep you.” She smiled beautifully through her tears. Paul smiled as well, his own tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “I, Paul Ryan, swear to you, Meg Snyder, that I will trust you, and love you for all eternity. I will continue to fight for you, but I also promise you that I will never stop making mistakes or being who I am. I hope you're okay with that.” He stopped so that they could laugh. “So what now?” she asked. “Me? I'm going to finish getting drunk,” Paul cracked. “Care to join me?” She smiled coyly, and wrapped her arms around his back. “Well, I don't need a bottle of Hermitage to be intoxicated.” “What do you need?” he teased, backing up against a wall. Swooping up and pinning him against the wall, she kissed him as she never had before. It had enough fire in it to spark in him a wild lust-filled craving for her. But she was the aggressor this time, and as her lips moved over his tongue, she reached for the back of his shirt and pulled it off. He untied her wraparound dress, and it slipped to the floor. Just as she was done yanking off his belt, he hoisted her up and turned. Her back now against the wall, she twisted her bare legs around his waist. All the while, Paul remembered some words he had heard at Thanksgiving; they were spoken by Janet, but rang true nonetheless . Why can't we fight like this? Then Meg breathed her raspy little gasps of pleasure, and nothing else seemed to matter… ************** ANOTHER TWO WEEKS LATER
“Paul, get out the video camera! Now!” Paul heard Meg's excited prompt, and raced for his camcorder, which was resting on the desk. The dimmed room was filled with pink streamers and red balloons with white polka dots. In the middle of the coffee table was a square white cake with whipped yellow frosting and the words Happy 1 st Birthday, Eliza!! Love Mommy and Daddy in blue icing. Shreds of wrapping paper and confetti were everywhere, but no one cared too much about the mess. Emma, Holden, and Lily were standing around the couch, which seated Barbara, Meg, and Eliza. “Ready?” asked Paul. “Brad? The candle?” “Right,” Brad said, fumbling with the lighter. Baby Ryan chose that moment to fuss in Katie's arms, so she winked, “I'm going to take him out of the room. This is too much for you, isn't it, little man?” she cooed to her newborn son as she began walking toward the door. “Got it! Roll it, Paul!” Brad exclaimed. Paul switched the camera to record mode. The small candle on the cake flickered with a tiny glow, and everyone in the room sang, “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Eliza – .” Eliza shouted at the sound of her name, “Me!” Paul laughed from behind the camera, and the others followed suit. “Happy Birthday to you…” Amidst the clapping that followed, Meg looked over at him. He had never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of her holding Eliza in front of the cake. He could almost read her mind as Meg blew out the single candle for their daughter. Her wish had to have been the same as his…she, like him, wished for forever.
THE END
ETERNALLY: A PAUL AND MEG STORY by rlee
Twilight masked the entirety of the garden at Fairwinds Mansion . Everything was shrouded with the dark, including a massive cherry blossom tree that stood tall and within reach of the third story window to the master bedroom. Undetected, the silhouette of a lone figure was positioned attentively in the tree and watching through the window. Inside, an unbuttoned collar shirt, unmistakably white in color, lay crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed. Close by was a silky black night slip, and further along the floor were a belt and a pair of trousers, either cast or flung aside in a hurry. In the bed up above, a woman lay underneath the sheets, pressing her body on her lover's. Her lips moved so vigorously with the man's mouth that it looked like she was consuming him. The man, who apparently possessed an even stronger (if possible) sexual energy, rolled on top of her in a moment of spontaneity. They continued to push themselves against each other, moving in a way that was frenetic, yet hard and steady at the same time. They were completely, blissfully unaware that they were being watched. The observer sat quietly, with a gaze that never averted the intimate action taking place in the bedroom. All the while thinking about what a pity it was to be the man in the room, when it was the woman who needed to be punished. Ah well, the poor fellow probably deserves to be put out of his misery. From inside, something the man was doing caused the woman to moan in ecstasy, “Oh…oh!” Her hands gripped some hair from the sides of his head, while one of his own hands found its way into her long dark tresses. Soon… thought the one watching them. Soon. *********************** The spreading morning light seeped into the master bedroom at Fairwinds. The glow warmed Meg's face, and she became aware of the birds that were chirping from the cherry blossom tree outside. She opened her eyes to find that her head was resting on Paul's chest. For a moment she lay still, simply basking in the moment. Her ear over his heart, Meg listened to the strong beating within. She breathed in his faint musk, which called to mind a blend of vanilla, spice cloves, and a hint of scotch. She wasn't sure whether it was from his aftershave or just his natural scent, but it was among the many things she found irresistible in Paul. “Dta…dah!” Instinctively, Meg turned to look at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Eliza was awake. Feeling Meg shift her position, Paul stirred and rubbed his eyes. He groaned good-naturedly, “What time is it?” “Da, Da!” their daughter clamored through the baby monitor. Meg smiled. “Time for you to change a diaper,” she teased. After he stumbled out of bed, Paul pulled on a t-shirt and some sweatpants. “What time do you have to be at the hospital?” he asked. As a nurse, Meg had such a sporadic schedule that Paul hardly knew whether she was coming or going these days. “Two hours from now,” Meg replied. “Da-da!” Eliza called again. Paul chuckled. “On my way!” He left the room. *********************** Upon arriving at Oakdale Memorial, Meg met Bob Hughes on her way up the stairs. The senior chief of staff greeted her. “Hello Meg – may I see you in my office for a minute?” “Sure,” Meg replied, hoping against hope that she wasn't in trouble with the hospital again. Or being forced to work a double-shift. Someone was already waiting for them in Dr. Hughes' office. A woman with a short brown haircut was sitting in the chair wearing nurse scrubs, but she stood as soon as they entered. She waved nervously. Bob explained, “Meg, this is Samantha Maxwell, one of our CNAs.” “Oh,” said Meg, starting to realize where this was heading. Bob usually sent certified nursing assistants to watch Meg make her rounds. “I'd like for Samantha to shadow you for the day,” Dr. Hughes continued. “She needs some supervised hands-on experience here in order to pass with a C.” Meg held back a sigh. Helping an intern probably meant she wouldn't be home until eleven. “Great,” she said with a strained smile. For the next ten hours, she checked pulses, drew blood, delivered injections, and even had to change her scrub shirt twice because one patient kept vomiting. Samantha Maxwell just followed her silently and took notes. Whenever Meg offered her a chance to help, the CNA simply shrugged and said, “I learn by watching.” “You will have to do all of this in order to pass nursing school,” Meg finally reminded her. She checked her watch. “I'm going to take a break.” She had two more hours left on the clock. Paul and Eliza would probably be asleep by now. Samantha closed her eyes briefly and said, “This is exhausting.” She looked at Meg and said, “I need another cup of coffee.” Once she was gone, Meg sank into a chair. Although her feet had been hurting for awhile now, she had been afraid to rest in case she didn't want to get up again. She was so tired she barely noticed someone was watching her until a snide voice quipped, “Sleeping on the job, Meg?” Meg looked up to find Craig Montgomery, dressed in his usual business suit, glaring at her. Craig, being tall, rich and powerful, had once managed to ensnare Meg during one of her frequent break-ups with Paul. That was before Craig had planted a bomb in Paul's car. The long-standing hatred between Paul and Craig was a frightening thing to behold, and Meg had come out of their battle unable to look at either man in the same way that she had before. “Craig –,” she said warily. “What are you doing here?” “Honestly? I was looking for you.” The subtle edge in Craig's otherwise casual tone did not go unnoticed. “Why?” Craig crossed his arms. “So that you can give your boyfriend a message.” Meg copied the stance and said almost defensively, “And what message would I give?” “That I know what he did, and if he doesn't return what he stole from me, I'm coming after him.” Meg raised her eyebrows. “Paul stole from you?” Craig's expression was sardonic. “Oh, so he didn't tell you? What a shock. I ran into him in Old Town and he ‘accidentally' –,” (Craig held up his fingers to indicate quotations before continuing,) “dumped his cup of coffee on my dry-cleaned suit.” Meg couldn't help but snicker. “I'm sorry – but isn't this the kind of thing you would tattle to a preschool teacher about?” “There's more…” “Oh, what, did he take your favorite crayons?” Meg snapped. “No, he took my wallet! I know it was him because he made a comment, something to the extent of, ‘Well, at least honest work didn't buy you that suit.' And when he left, my wallet was gone.” Incredulous, Meg stared at Craig. Surely this was, to date, the most stupid reason for a threat from Craig Montgomery. “I'll talk to him and see if he has it,” she said, and it wasn't until Craig had pivoted and marched out of the hospital that she rolled her eyes. It turned out that Samantha Maxwell had gone home early. Meg wasn't too upset by this; in fact, she was downright relieved. After finishing her rounds, she went to get her things. Her cell phone was beeping, which indicated a text message. She opened her phone…and frowned. The text read Did you kiss him goodbye? There was no identification, and the number was one she didn't recognize. Whoever sent it must have been texting the wrong person. Still, it was an eerie message to give someone. Meg shuddered and went home. ********************* Back at Fairwinds, Paul was in the living room with Eliza trying to accomplish the single task he had been working on all day. “Ma-ma!” he prompted Eliza. “Dad-dy!” Eliza gurgled. Paul yawned. No matter how much she tried to hide it, Meg was bothered by the fact that Eliza had not yet called her “Mama.” “Please, princess?” Paul pleaded. He enunciated clearly, “Mah-mah!” “Da…mah!” she said. Paul was too tired to laugh, so he gave Eliza a kiss on her soft plump cheek. “Thank you!” he sighed. “Damh!” “Uh-oh.” Realizing what he had done, Paul said quickly, “No, no, it's Mama.” “Dam!” Eliza repeated. Paul shook his head. “Well, your mom's not going to like that one, is she? Okay, sweet pea, time for bed. Again.” He had put her down hours ago, but she kept waking up at forty minute intervals. Paul had tried taking Eliza for a drive, rocking her, and just about every trick in the book to make her fall asleep again. Save for one… “How about a song?” he asked. Propped up on the side of the sofa was a guitar. Paul reached over and grabbed it by the neck. His fingers began moving up and down the strings, playing the one song he knew. “ So, help me if you can; I've got to get back to the house at Pooh corner by one. “You know, you never cease to amaze me,” she said in a low voice. “Is there anything you can't do?” Paul shrugged. “Well, my First-Aid and CPR skills are pretty much nonexistent,” he admitted, expecting her to make a joke about her nursing career. Instead, she just asked, “Where did you learn to play?” “Oh…it's just something I've been studying while I'm here and you're on those double-shifts.” In truth, his ex-wife Rosanna Cabot had taught him the chords for “House at Pooh Corner” so that he could play for Eliza. But he didn't want to discuss Rosanna anymore than Meg wanted to talk about Craig Montgomery or Dusty Donovan. Their unspoken rule of not mentioning past loves was tied into their verbal agreement to make a fresh start together. So far, it was working surprisingly well. Meg scooped Eliza into her arms and whispered to Paul, “I'll be right back.” Internally, she told herself that she could question him about his run-in with Craig tomorrow, if at all. She took Eliza to the nursery and gently placed the sleeping child in her crib. When she returned to the living room, it was to find Paul dozing on the sofa. She smiled, picked up the blanket on the end of the couch, and draped it over him. She had just begun to tenderly stroke through his sandy hair when her phone beeped again. Meg pulled the phone out of her purse and flipped it open. It was another text. When I kill him I'll think of you. ****************** “Dam! Dam-muh!” The morning had come gone quickly. It was midday now, and Paul cringed every time Eliza said her new favorite word. “It was an accident, you know,” he felt the need to explain to Meg. Curtly, Meg responded, “Yeah, you told me.” “Maybe she'll get tired of it,” he said, throwing a hopeful glance at Eliza, who was sitting on the floor playing with her big plastic rings. Meg did not answer. She is definitely acting moodier than usual , Paul thought. “So, I was thinking we could go to the park with Eliza today.” “Huh?” she asked, looking distracted. Paul was already preparing himself for disappointment when he said, “The park, Meg. You've been saying for weeks we should meet some of the other parents in Oakdale. That Eliza needs some interaction with other kids since her first birthday is coming up – .” Seeming tense, Meg said, “Sorry, I can't today. There's something I need to do.” “Are you okay?” He had been putting off this question for as long as possible, but now he had to know what the problem was. Meg took a deep breath. “Okay, don't panic, but I think there's someone out there who wants to hurt you.” Instead of panicking, Paul chuckled a little. Looking confused, Meg demanded, “What's so funny?” He resumed a serious disposition and said, “Meg, I'd be more surprised if there was someone out there who didn't wish me some kind of bodily harm.” “But I think this person is actually going to do something!” Paul was stunned. She looked so grave; it was hard to find the matter humorous now. “Do you know who it is?” “No, not yet. I was going to go to the police station and see if they could find out who sent me these cryptic text messages.” Although he wasn't worried himself, Paul couldn't help but feel touched by her concern. He smiled, “Well, we'd better place our bets now on who this would-be killer is. So many people want me dead, you know. Dusty…Craig…your mother…” Meg stiffened. “What about Craig? He said you stole his wallet in Old Town , is that true?” This time Paul really did laugh. “I don't even know what to say to that. Even if I did, do you really think Craig would kill over a missing wallet? Nah.” He went over and wrapped his arms around her in what he hoped would be a comforting embrace. Paul kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Thanks for worrying, though.” She blushed. “I'm going to go and see Jack about this. Just in case.” “Okay.” She hugged him back, and then let go. She walked out the door with her purse in hand. Five minutes after Meg had left, Paul got down to Eliza's level and looked into her big blue-green eyes. “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. ******************* There were few cops in the Oakdale Police Station. Meg supposed that was a good thing. It was less embarrassing this way. After spending a very long hour and a half pacing outside the door, she finally saw Detective Jack Snyder emerge from the interrogation room and seat himself behind his desk to look over paperwork. She approached her cousin, feeling nervous for what she was about to do and ashamed that it might all be for nothing. “Hey Meg,” said Jack pleasantly. “What brings you by?” Meg pulled out her phone and told Jack, “I need a favor.” His eyes narrowed. “What did Paul do this time?” Paul had never been her family's favorite person. While the children and teenagers of the Snyder brood held a special affection for him, their parents were less than accepting, in spite of Paul's past efforts to win their approval. Their intolerance had brought Meg to the point where she only recently had to specify to Paul that she doesn't want him bending over backwards to impress them anymore; it was a habit he was only too happy to break. “Nothing , Jack,” Meg said, her tone sharp. “But I am worried about him. I received some anonymous texts last night.” She handed Jack her phone, and he looked at it. “Really?” he mused. “What kind of texts?” “The threatening kind.” He perused the messages her inbox and asked, “How many are like these top ones?” “Just the two. Can you find out the number it came from?” Meg asked. “Well, honestly, I don't think this is meant for anything except to rattle your cage, but yeah, I can look it up for you. It won't take long.” At that moment, Lieutenant Margo Hughes put down her phone and rushed over to them. “Jack, I need you to stop what you're doing – someone just reported a hit–and –run.” “Right,” said Jack, who gave his cousin a rushed apologetic glance. “I'll get the results to you by tomorrow –.” “Actually, Jack, Meg should probably go with you,” Margo interrupted. Noticing their inquisitive stares, she explained, “Paul is the victim.” ******************** Paul wasn't sure how it happened. After shopping in Old Town for a bit, he had taken Eliza to the park as promised. It was nearing dusk, so they only stayed for half an hour to watch the remaining children swing and slide. Then, he had just put Eliza inside her car seat and shut the back door when he heard tires screeching. He hadn't even had a chance to turn around before feeling the impact of another car. Paul was knocked violently to the ground, and the last thing he saw before passing out was a bumper sticker that read Remember Sarah , illuminated by the taillights. When he had come to again, he was surrounded by the parents of the other children. “Oh my God, are you okay?” cried one. Another shouted, “I'm calling an ambulance!” “We should call the police!” He heard a child screaming. “Eliza?” Paul groaned weakly. They asked him for his name. He gave it to them, then asked, “Where's my daughter? Is she all right?” He tried to sit up, but he was too dizzy. “Sir, try not to move,” a woman instructed him. “I took your daughter out of the car; she's right here, she's fine. We need to get you to the hospital.” Some time later, both the ambulance and the police sirens blared. He was still lying on the pavement, drifting in and out of consciousness, when he heard a familiar voice scream, “Paul!” Within moments, Meg was at his side. “Hey beautiful…” he whispered. He could barely see her, but her face must have been right above his because her warm tears were dropping on this neck. “Ma'am, is this your daughter?” came the voice of the woman that Paul recognized as the one who was holding Eliza. She passed the crying baby to Meg, who hugged her closely. “Oh…you're okay,” she soothed. “Your daddy's going to be okay, too.” As the paramedics hoisted Paul onto a stretcher, Jack Snyder asked him, “Real quick – Paul, can you remember the license plate of the car that hit you?” Angrily, Meg said, “Can't that wait, Jack?” Being stubborn, Jack said, “I just need one question answered so that I can do my job.” Paul muttered, “Not the license plate…the sticker. The one that says ‘Remember Sarah.'” The last thing he saw before being boarded into the ambulance was Meg's unusually pale face. ******************* As a nursing student with a brunette bob treated his wounds, Paul couldn't help feeling irritated. “I'm fine ,” he said, impatient to go home with Meg and Eliza. “Really, my car is in worse shape than I am.” The nurse-in-training giggled before giving him a sympathetic look. “Mr. Ryan, you still might have a concussion. And you need stitches for your arm.” He looked down the arm that she was currently disinfecting and grimaced. It wasn't a pretty sight; a long bloody gash went all the way from his forearm to his shoulder. He didn't think he had a concussion, though. “I was just winded earlier,” he protested. “I don't need to stay overnight, do I?” The woman shrugged, “We'll see what Dr. Hughes has to say about it. Are you in a hurry to get home?” “Actually, I am. I kind of have plans for the lady waiting outside,” Paul confessed. Surprised, the woman didn't even have to look out the window. “You mean Meg Snyder?” she said, interested. “Yeah, you know her, right?” The CNA nodded. “She was the one who helped me last night with my training.” Paul leaned in and asked, “What's your name?” “Samantha Maxwell. But you can call me Sam,” she added, almost shyly. “Okay, Sam – can I show you something?” For some reason, he could not keep a secret tonight; he had to share this with someone. Sam nodded. Paul pointed to thin square box on the floor. “Can you get that for me? I would get it myself, but my arm seems to be out of commission…” She obliged and picked up the box. While Paul's open car door had been crunched like an aluminum can from the hit-and-run, the box that had been in the driver's seat was undamaged. Paul waited for Sam's reaction as she opened the box. She did not disappoint. “Oh… wow! ” she breathed, eyes widening. Outside the patient's room, Meg was not so eager to share her thoughts. She said to Jack for what felt like the thousandth time, “I should be in there with him –.” “You're not working tonight, Meg,” Jack muttered distractedly, looking at her phone, which he had taken with him as soon as he'd heard the news. “What are you doing?” Meg asked. “Looking at this number. Meg, do you really think that the person who nearly ran Paul over tonight is your mysterious texter?” Meg nodded. If she hadn't been certain the threat was serious before, there was no doubt in her mind now. Jack announced, “I'm going to call Dallas at the station and have him bring the suspect in for questioning.” “Suspect? You know who it is?” “I'm astonished at how easy this was,” Jack remarked confidently. “You'd think he'd be smarter than this. The person who texted you – I can remember the number without even looking it up. It's Craig Montgomery's. Deep down, Meg wished she could feel relieved. But whenever a situation looked too good (or easy) to be true, it usually was. And something told her that this situation was far from over. ******************* “I never took Craig for an idiot,” Paul said to Meg at Fairwinds later that night. His arm had been stitched up, and Dr. Hughes had deemed him fit to go home. They had just put Eliza in her crib, and were now in the master bedroom. “Nothing about this seems like his style.” “Exactly,” Meg agreed. “It couldn't have been him.” “Well, I didn't say that it wasn't him. I just think he's gotten lazy.” “Paul, think about it,” Meg attempted yet again to make him listen. “There's no motivation here, except for a missing wallet. Did you even take it?” Paul was more than a little annoyed that she had to ask. He rolled his eyes. “Uh, no. Stealing a wallet is hardly creative enough to be my handiwork. So, do you think someone is trying to frame Craig?” “Yeah. We can't press charges against him.” Paul shook his head. “I'm going to let this go as far as it can. It would be nice to see Craig Montgomery sweat it out a bit for once.” Meg's jaw dropped. “You can't mean that!” “Wanna bet?” She hit him lightly on his good shoulder, and they both laughed. Then she sidled closer to him on the bed and leaned her head on his undamaged arm. “You know, I was so scared,” she said softly. “I'm still scared…” He gazed into her dark brown eyes, which were welling with tears. Impulsively, he brushed his lips on her forehead. She tilted her face up to his lips, and kissed him. His heart raced as the kiss became more intense. His fingers, as though acting of their own accord, wandered up the back of her blouse, and clutched her smooth skin. Her fingers trembled as they unhooked the buttons on his shirt. Then Paul remembered something. She was tugging at his belt as he said in between kisses, “You know – there was something – I wanted to show you…” “Then show me,” she whispered, planting a kiss on his neck that made him forget everything else. She pulled off her pants; once he was out of his own, she wrapped her legs around his. Aroused, he pushed her down onto the bed, enjoying the feel of her beneath him and the sound of the repeated words, “ Show me…” After their passion was consummated, she lay in his arms, with him just holding her under the sheets. Then he smiled, “You know, there really was something I wanted to show you.” Meg gave a blissful sigh. “Can it wait? I just want to stay like this for a while,” she murmured. “It's on the nightstand,” he smiled, trying to tantalize her into reaching for it. Meg was always curious about what his next move was going to be, in spite of how much she wanted live in the moment. Giving in, she sat up and reached over for the thin square box. He looked on as she lifted the lid and pulled out a framed document. The moonlight that glowed into the room made the writing readable. “ This is the official certificate presenting the Meg Snyder-Ryan Star … ” she read aloud slowly. Paul smiled as the implication of what he'd done dawned on her, and she said in a small uncertain voice, “I have a star?” Paul felt a sudden moment of vulnerability. Maybe this was too much too soon for her? “I'm sorry, I probably should have asked first…” But Meg smiled through a fresh wave of tears. “I love you,” she told him, sounding overwhelmed. Then she read the document again, and repeated, “Meg Snyder-Ryan…” So much for subliminal messaging , Paul thought. He gently turned the frame around in her hands. On the back, hanging around the mounting hook, was a white gold ring; a diamond the size of a dime glittered in between two small blue topazes. She stared at him in a manner that was either terrified or awed. Whatever it was, she wasn't speaking. He braced himself for signs of rejection, but went along with the speech he had planned. “I was thinking…whenever a star burns out, its light can still be seen by people on earth. In a way, that makes it eternal. And no matter what happens, to you or to me, we'll always have that sort of love. And now, you'll always have this star.” He glanced at her to check her reaction and see whether or not she thought it was too sappy. But Meg was listening rapturously to his every word. He continued, “I'm not trying to pressure you into this. We can wait if you want…but will you marry me?” Visibly moved, Meg kissed him. “I will,” she told him. Paul breathed a sigh of relief. That had not been so difficult, after all. ******************* Meg was trapped. She was on one side of the on-call room at Memorial, Paul was on the other, next to the door. In the middle of the room was a man pointing a loaded pistol at her. “Remember Sarah?” asked the man, Milo . “My wife, you killed my wife!” his voice shook. “I'm sorry!” Meg cried, consumed with guilt and horror over what she had done. “It was an accident!” He took a step forward and said dangerously, “I loved her, she was my best friend. We were the only ones in the world who understood each other. Do you know what that's like?” “Yes…” Meg whispered, knowing somehow that she'd had this conversation with him before. From behind, Paul was inching towards Milo cautiously, preparing to tackle him. Meg wanted to shout at him to run away and go get help. Then Milo Shaughnessy said something she'd never heard him say before. “I'm going to do to you what you did to me.” Before she could so much as move, Milo turned around and fired at Paul. The bullet hit him point-blank in the heart. “No!” Meg screamed, bolting upright in bed. Hyperventilating, she hugged her knees and sobbed. It took her a good few minutes to realize that Paul was not there. “Paul?” she called, looking around wildly. “Paul?!” She heard Eliza laughing in the living room. Throwing on her clothes from the other night, Meg dashed downstairs.. Instead of finding Paul with Eliza, she found his mother. Barbara Ryan was playing, “Where is Thumbkin?” with her granddaughter. “Oh good, you're awake,” she chirped upon seeing Meg. “Where's Paul?” asked Meg. “He got up early this morning and asked me to watch Eliza until he got back from the hospital,” Barbara replied, as Eliza started babbling, “Dad-dah, Mam-mah!” Meg gave a small gasp. “Did she just say – .” Barbara smiled, very pleased. “Paul finally got her to say it. I arrived just in time to see him coaching her.” “Oh...” Meg cooed, picking Eliza up from the couch and hugging her happily. “Mamamamama,” Eliza said. Meg smiled, while Barbara said in a somewhat stern voice, “You should have told me about last night. I know my son likes to live his own life, but he could have died and –.” Meg interrupted, “Where did you say he went?” “To the hospital. Someone called this morning about test results…” The house phone rang. Meg handed Eliza back to Barbara and answered. “Hello?” “Meg, it's Jack. We have Montgomery down at the station.” “Did he confess?” Meg asked, knowing full well Craig wouldn't. “No, actually, it turns out that he's been missing his phone and wallet for about a week now. We tracked his phone to the dumpster over at Memorial. So the hit-and-run might not be connected to the phone at all.” Or maybe it was. Struck with an epiphany, Meg asked hurriedly, “Jack, do you remember Milo Shaughnessy? His wife died from anaphalyptic shock at Memorial.” Bewildered, Jack said, “How can I forget? Sarah Shaughnessy was your patient, wasn't she?” “What happened to him?” “He dropped the lawsuit and moved to another state. Meg, why are you bringing this up? Meg?” Meg gulped. “No reason,” she lied. “Thanks for everything, Jack.” Once he had hung up, Barbara asked Meg, “What's going on?” “I have to get to the hospital!” “Is it about Paul?” Barbara asked, ready to launch into a worried fuss at a moment's notice. Meg couldn't have that. Eliza needed someone to stay with her. “Can you watch her?” “Of course, but I still want to know –.” Meg was already gone. ******************* Paul decided he hated hospitals. If the nursing staff had found that a tetanus shot was needed, they should have given it to him while he was getting stitches. “Okay, sorry, that took so long,” Samantha Maxwell said, coming back into the room with a large needle in hand. Paul just stared, mouth agape. “Please tell me you're giving that one to an elephant,” he said. Sam chuckled, “Nope, it's for you. Don't worry, it will all be over soon.” Maybe it was just his imagination, but Paul felt a sense of foreboding. ******************* No sooner had Meg reached the level Paul would be on when her cell phone rang again. She saw who the caller was and answered with, “This isn't the best time, Jack.” “Meg, there's something you should know. We ID'd the prints on Craig's cellphone. They belong to a woman named Samantha Maxwell.” Dumbfounded, Meg repeated, “Samantha Maxwell…that's impossible.” “It's not,” Jack asserted. “And after you mentioned the Shaughnessy case earlier, I remembered something. I had to dig up the old file cases, but it turns out that Milo Shaughnessy's wife's maiden name was Maxwell. Samantha Maxwell has been institutionalized twice since 2007, so you need to be careful.” “Oh…my…God.” Meg snapped her phone shut and raced down the hall, praying that she wasn't too late. She looked inside the windows of every room, panicking more and more with the passing of every second. She got to the one at the end of the hall. And saw Samantha Maxwell coaxing Paul to lie down on the exam table. She opened the door just in time to hear Paul say, “You know, I think I should get a second opinion on the needle, because that thing looks deadly –.” “Don't!” Meg cried, surprising them both. “Stay away from him!” Samantha Maxwell threw her a venomous glance. “No.” “What's going on?” asked Paul, knowing immediately that he was right about the danger he'd sensed earlier. Samantha snapped, “You want to tell him? Or should I? Oh, let me. He needs to know what you did to my sister! That way he can understand why he needs to die!” Meg whispered, “I am so sorry about Sarah. What happened was an accident.” “An accident that you tried to cover up! I know all about the fake diary that you gave the police, the one that said Sarah killed herself. Milo committed suicide after that, did you know? You have the blood of two innocent people on your hands, Meg Snyder!” Samantha raged. Meg blanched. “Listen, Meg wasn't the one who wrote that diary. Craig Montgomery did that,” Paul pointed out, knowing the story fairly well. Samantha ignored him and pointed a finger at Meg. “Tell me, have you ever taken responsibility for something you did wrong? Have you ever been punished for all the hurt you've caused my family? I see you're still working at the hospital…you have a baby, a fiancé. Your life is perfect!” She continued, “I've been watching you for awhile now, you know. I know all about your history, how you married Craig Montgomery and Paul Ryan, two very rich successful businessmen. And you left them both!” She laughed maniacally, and Paul seized the opportunity to grab the needle out of her hand. He gripped her wrist so tightly she dropped the syringe. Then he picked it up quickly, while Samantha screamed Aahh!” She dropped to the floor and pulled out a paper bag from under the bed. Her hand retrieved a gun and she pointed it at him. “I felt sorry for you before, you know. But after that stunt, it will be a pleasure to kill you!” Paul met Meg's eyes from across the room. “Please don't,” Meg begged. “You don't want to go to jail, do you, Samantha? We can get you the help you need, you won't go to prison –.” Furious, Samantha whipped around and spat at Meg, “You think I only care about myself?! Wrong!” It was now or never. Paul grabbed her from behind. She screamed as they struggled. Both of them fell to the floor. BANG! A deafening shot was heard, and the gun was dropped. Meg cried, “Paul!” “Get the gun!” he shouted at her as Samantha kicked and flailed her arms, screaming louder than ever. Meg dove for the gun. Holding it, she yelled, “Don't move!” The door opened, with Jack Snyder and Dr. Bob Hughes at the head of the crowd of people who had come when they heard the gunshot. It was a rather shocking sight, with Paul pinning Samantha, who lay helplessly on the floor, and Meg pointing the gun. Jack took charge from there. After shouting, “Everyone clear the room!' he and his partner Dallas Griffin helped Paul to his feet first, and then pulled up Samantha Maxwell second. “How did you know to come here?” Meg asked Jack in amazement as he and Dallas escorted Samantha out the door. Jack said, “I figured this was where she'd be hiding out after Craig's phone was found in the garbage outside. Are you all right?” Meg nodded, and went over to Paul. “How are you?” she asked. He was going to say he was never better, then winced as pain shot up his arm. “I think I popped some stitches.” She threw her arms around him. They stood embraced like that for some time, letting everything else fade out of the picture. ******************* Back at Fairwinds, Barbara was cross. “I can't believe you didn't tell me what was going on,” she reprimanded them both. Eliza, squirming in Meg's arms, took this moment to shout, “Dam, Mama!” Paul attempted to flex the arm that was dressed in a protective cast. “I wish it really had been Craig. That would have solved so many problems. Plus, I wouldn't feel obligated to pay for Craig Montgomery's therapy.” Meg was impressed. “That's very generous of you to do that for Samantha,” she smiled. Paul shrugged, “Well, I felt sorry for her. Besides, it would be in our best interest if Samantha Maxwell came out of prison not wanting to kill us.” Barbara suddenly took notice of Meg's ring. “I see this incident wasn't the only thing you neglected to tell me. How long have you two been engaged?” Paul shook his head. His mother was being so nosy. There was only one thing to say. “You know, Mom,” he leaned back on the couch, “When I don't tell you everything, it's probably better for you anyway.” He winked at Meg, and she giggled. “What does that mean – oh, never mind!” Barbara said, resigned to a life of not knowing. “Dam!” Eliza said. All three adults laughed, grateful that they had finally gotten to a place where total acceptance and unconditional love was a given. It had certainly taken them long enough.
THE END. |
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