DoubleDown V (11 page)

JournalStone’s DoubleDown Series, Book V

By

Mark Allan Gunnells

JournalStone

San Francisco

Copyright © 2014 by Mark Allan Gunnells

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

JournalStone books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

JournalStone

www.journalstone.com

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN:
978-1-940161-60-0
(sc)

ISBN:
978-1-940161-61-7
(ebook)

ISBN:
978-1-940161-62-4
(hc – limited edition)

JournalStone rev. date:  August 22, 2014

Library of Congress Control Number:
2014942804

Printed in the United States of America

Cover Design:
Denise Daniel

Cover Art: 
M. Wayne Miller

Cover Photograph © Shutterstock.com and © iStock.com

Edited by: 
Dr. Michael R. Collings

To John Little. Thanks for the inspiration, the support, and the friendship.

Karen looked down at the closest tombstone. She’d been walking for almost an hour and still hadn’t found exactly what she’d been looking for.

For that matter, she wasn’t sure she even knew for herself exactly what she was seeking. The one she was looking at now had a woman’s name followed by:

*   *   *

Born July 4, 1960, Died December 10, 1999

Beloved Mother and Artist

She Brought Life to Those Close to Her

*   *   *

A gust of wind blew some loose strands of Karen’s long blonde hair so they covered her view. She pushed them back behind her ears.

“Is that the one?”

The voice behind her was gentle but insistent.

“Are you getting tired of looking?”

Karen smiled as she turned to face Bobby. He stood a respectful two feet behind her, as if he were trying to give her all the privacy she might need while still being there to offer any emotional support.

Not bloody likely,
she thought.

Bobby was nineteen years old, just like she was. Somehow, though, he looked older. If she didn’t know better, she’d peg him at about twenty-five. He was tall, rugged, and handsome, exactly the kind of guy who would turn girls’ heads wherever he went. His deep voice made her wonder if he could have had a future in radio.

Karen, on the other hand, knew she barely looked seventeen, let alone nineteen. She was slim and short and never seemed to fill out like other girls her age.

“Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound impatient,” he said. “Take all the time you want. Time is the one thing both of us have lots of.”

Karen nodded. “I just need to find the right one.”

Bobby smiled. “I know.  Really, it’s okay.”

“I’m not sure anything will be okay ever again.”

Bobby didn’t answer. What could he say to that?

Karen looked at him with the hint of emotion in her eyes, but she was determined not to let a single tear drop. She tried to detach herself and just concentrate on Bobby’s face—the dark brown eyes; the pitch-black, curly hair; the dimples she knew would appear when he smiled.

She exhaled a long breath and turned back to the headstone. “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”

“Do you want to check? You can Google it on your iPhone. Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”

Karen shook her head. “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth. I think she loved to put together collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”

She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.

“This isn’t the one,” she said finally.

Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones. None of them interested her. Only a few had called to her so far.

The sun was starting to set behind them, casting a long shadow through the graveyard. Karen knew Bobby just wanted her to find the right damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy. It had to be the
right
one.

If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.

“Did you know there’re two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.

She ignored him. A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.

“This is the one,” she said. “I found her.”

Karen first met Bobby in the campus library, which seemed somehow appropriate. She was shelving in the fiction section, had just wheeled her cart around a corner, and saw him standing right in the middle of the aisle, staring intently at the spines on the shelf in front of him. He seemed unaware of her presence, despite the squeaky wheel on the cart. She watched him for a moment, not speaking. Karen didn’t recognize him from around campus, but Furman University was a fairly large school. He was cute, whoever he was.

Chastising herself for acting like some stalker, Karen cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, can I help you find anything?”

At first he didn’t react, then he turned his head slowly in her direction. “Are you talking to me?”

“I don’t see anyone else in this aisle.”

“Sorry, I just...I thought I was alone.”

“Well, don’t mind me.” Karen starting taking books off her cart and finding their appropriate places on the shelves. She glanced over her shoulder to find the dark-haired boy watching her, much as she had watched him earlier. The shoe on the other stalker’s foot, as it were.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with something?”

He looked from Karen to the cart then back again. “You’re a librarian?”

“Well, I work here as part of my work-study.”

“So you’re...a student?”

Karen smiled, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Freshman. I know, I look like I’m a freshman in high school, but I’ll be nineteen just after New Year’s. I’m Karen Richardson.”

“Bobby Jersey.”

“You a senior?”

“Um, no. I’m just nineteen myself.”

“Really, I would have pegged you for older. Something about the eyes. Maybe you’re just an old soul.”

“Thanks...I think.”

“It’s a compliment. Most people our age are so trivial. You know?”

“I guess. I don’t exactly have a lot of friends so I’ll take your word for it.”

This intrigued Karen. Bobby was a good-looking guy; it was hard for her to fathom him not having any friends. Then again, he seemed uncomfortable talking to her. Perhaps there was a bit of social anxiety at work.

One Intro to Psych class and you think you’re a psychiatrist.

Bobby turned back to the shelf and resumed perusing the titles. Not really wanting the conversation to end, Karen said, “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Not really. I’m just seeing what some of my favorite authors have out these days. I haven’t been able to read anything new in a while.”

“Oh, I know what you mean. With all the schoolwork my professors have been piling on, pleasure reading is a thing of the past. Sometimes I take my iPhone with me to the bathroom thinking I’ll do some reading then, but I just end up playing SongPop.”

Bobby was staring at her with one corner of his mouth lifted in a bemused half smile.
Great Karen, five minutes into meeting a cute guy, you’re talking to him about going to the bathroom. This is just the sort of thing Brittany is talking about when she says you’ve got zero flirting skills.

“So, do you live on campus?” Karen asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Uh, no, actually....”

“Got your own apartment?”

“No, I’m still with my Mom.”

“Hey, no shame in that. If I was local, I’d probably do the same.”

“Where are you from?”

“West Virginia...but don’t hold that against me.”

A full smile blossomed on Bobby’s face. “Well, Greenville, South Carolina, isn’t exactly a metropolis.”

“I think it’s a great city. The downtown area is gorgeous. Have you been to Coffee Underground?”

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t get out much.”

Karen wasn’t sure what to say to that. A mournful sadness wafted from Bobby like a scent. The source was unclear, but it cut deep.

“I should get going,” Bobby finally said, already backing down the aisle. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“It’s possible. I think I’m here more than I am in my dorm room.”

“I’m here a lot myself.”

Then he turned the corner and was gone. Karen stood there for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy, then returned to shelving.

*  *  *

Karen was almost out the door when she saw Ms. Young standing behind the counter. It was the librarian’s usual spot, and the woman was wearing the vaguely perplexed expression that was almost continually stamped on her face. She had a reputation for being flighty, but Karen actually found the woman to be interesting.

“Excuse me, Ms. Young. Do you have a moment?”

“Karen, I need you to call me Penelope like we talked about.”

“Sorry, Penelope. I just wanted to thank you for my bracelet.”

“You’re more than welcome, dear. I remember you were admiring my necklace last week.”

Karen glanced at the librarian’s neck. The woman handcrafted jewelry as a hobby, and Karen had in fact commented on the necklace Penelope always wore.  It was woven from colored strands of leather, with small beads and feathers dangling from it. Looked almost Native American. She had made Karen a similar bracelet and presented it to her earlier.

“It’s really lovely. Are you sure I can’t pay you a little something for it?”

 “You don’t pay for a gift; that’s what makes it a gift.”

“Well, I do love it.”

“You’re not just saying that to humor a kooky old woman, are you?”

“No, sincerely. Thank you so much.”

“And it’s not just pretty; it’ll also bring you good luck.”

“Good luck?” Karen asked, fingering the woven strands.

“Yes. In fact…” Here Penelope paused for a moment. “I think we’ve developed a rapport of sorts since you started working here.  Maybe even become friends.”

Karen nodded. “I think so too.”