The Broken Road (The Broken Series) (6 page)

I
pressed my forehead against the window of the cab as I stared at the massive bronze
statue crowning the top of the Capitol dome.

“That’s
the Statue of Freedom. I have heard she faces east so the sun never sets on her
face,” Habib explained as we waited for some pedestrians to cross the street.

I
smiled as my eyes met Habib’s. “That seems fitting. I’d like to think the sun
would never set on freedom. Have you ever been inside the Capitol?”

Habib
shook his head. “No. As many times as I have driven around this building, I
have never seen the inside.”

“I
bet it’s beautiful inside,” I murmured as I looked longingly at the building. I
instantly regretted my decision not to extend my trip so I could tour some of
the historical sites in DC.

Habib
drove past the Washington Monument. As impressive as the monument was, I couldn’t
take my eyes off the Tidal Basin, where the Jefferson Memorial peeked through a
curtain of pink and white flowers that kissed the sky and carpeted the ground.
The breathtaking display was reflected all along the water’s edge. “I wasn’t
expecting DC to be so beautiful,” I admitted a bit reluctantly.

Habib
smiled. “You arrived just in time for the cherry blossoms.” He nodded toward
the Tidal Basin. “Do you know the story behind those trees?”

I
shook my head as I glanced back out the window. “No.”

“Those
trees were a gift from Japan. They sent over three thousand cherry trees to the
United States as a token of friendship.”  

My
eyes widened as I turned to face Habib. “Three thousand trees? Was this gift
sent before or after the bombing of Pearl Harbor?”

Habib
shrugged. The car rolled to a stop as we approached a red traffic light. “I’m
not sure when they were sent.”

I
dug my cell phone out of my purse so I could search for the date. “They were
given to the United States back in 1912. That was before the bombing of Pearl
Harbor.”

Habib
chuckled. “Now that is interesting.”  He drove by the WWII Memorial, the
reflecting pool, and the Lincoln Memorial before he merged back onto the
highway.

By
the time I arrived at the hotel I was engaged in an internal debate, the likes
of which threatened to destroy all of my preconceived notions about the
fellowship and DC. The day and the debate left me feeling exhausted and a bit
overwhelmed. As soon as I made it back to my room, I ordered room service for
dinner. I passed out cold with the tray of food still warm on my bed.

*
* * * * *

My
return flight to Montana wasn’t scheduled until four o’clock, so the nose
bleeder picked me up for an early lunch…
in a
Jaguar
. Instead of
driving to a restaurant, he merged onto a highway leading out of town. He was
quiet, so I sat and pondered how stupid I was to get into a car with a complete
stranger.
Well, he’s not a complete stranger
, I reasoned with myself. We
had spent a good three hours together on the plane, and I knew his name wasn’t
really nose bleeder… it was Frank.

Frank
exited the highway. We drove through a quaint looking community before he
turned onto a narrow, heavily treed road. “I have a surprise for you,” he
announced with a smile.

My
mouth fell open when I saw the large wooden sign welcoming us to Great Falls
Park. “This is the park you were telling me about on the plane! Does the park
have a restaurant?”

Frank
paid the park ranger before easing his car into a nearby parking space. “No. I
hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of packing our lunch. I hope you
like wine and cheese.”

And
just like that, I was ready to forgive the blood.

Frank
handed me a large red and black checkered blanket. “I brought a couple of extra
blankets in case we get cold.” He grabbed two more blankets and a picnic basket
from the trunk of the car. He smiled as we began walking toward the entrance to
the park.

We
passed by a large group of people as we walked along a wide gravel trail. I
couldn’t see the falls, but a soft rumbling noise sounded just off to my left.
Frank steered me to the right as he cut across the grass. He set the extra
blankets and the picnic basket under a massive tree.  I helped him spread the
red and black checkered blanket on the ground. He reached for the picnic basket
as I kicked my shoes off and kneeled on the blanket.

I
couldn’t believe the guy had a real picnic basket. My limited experience with
picnics generally involved cramming power bars and bottled water into my
backpack. I hadn’t seen a full-on picnic basket before.

My
jaw dropped when Frank pulled small green stoneware plates, wine glasses, a
couple of knives, and white linen napkins from the basket. After arranging
three blocks of cheese and a container of tapenade on a wood cutting board, he
unwrapped a small loaf of French bread and opened a bottle of red wine. “I hope
you like Chianti,” he said as he handed me a glass.

I
just shook my head and laughed. “I love Chianti.”

Frank
tapped his glass against mine. “
Salute
.”

“
Salute
,”
I echoed before taking a sip of wine. I hummed in appreciation. The wine left soft,
lingering notes of cinnamon and plums on my tongue. I gazed out over the
heavily treed park. I couldn’t believe how green Virginia was in March. Montana
was still brown and soggy from melting snow. My eyes slowly returned to Frank.
“So tell me about your family,” I prompted as I propped my chin on my knees. I
figured it was a pretty safe topic for conversation since he was wearing a
wedding ring.

Frank
leaned against the trunk of the tree and studied his glass of wine. “My wife
and two daughters live in upstate New York. I maintain a place in Reston, since
I have to be here for work, but I often fly back to New York so I can spend
weekends with them.”

“That
must be difficult… having a job that requires you to work so far away from your
family,” I commented softly. 

He
shrugged. “Not particularly.”

I
glanced at him in surprise, then promptly changed the topic. “I hope you aren’t
missing work on my account today.”

“My
work hours are flexible,” he responded as he sliced a couple pieces of bread.
He set the knife down, then dipped a piece of bread into the tapenade.
“Speaking of living arrangements, you should only consider apartments in
Virginia if you’re awarded the fellowship.”

I
reached for a piece of bread and sampled the olive spread. “Why? I heard that
housing in Maryland is more affordable than it is in Virginia.”

Frank
reached for his wine. “Maryland’s crime rates are higher. Virginia may cost
more, but it’s a much safer place to live. I recommend Fairfax or Vienna…
someplace close to the metro. The commute into DC can be brutal.”

My
eyes narrowed over the top of my wine glass. “How long of a commute are we
talking about?”

Frank
began slicing the cheese. “At least an hour each way if you live in Fairfax or
Vienna, and that’s on a good day. The metro may take longer if you have to
change lines, but it’s a lot less stressful than driving.”

I
winced at the thought of spending two hours a day in traffic. In Montana, my
commute took only ten minutes… fifteen if I picked up breakfast in the Bagel
Company drive through.

I
gathered as much advice as I could from Frank as the picnic drew to an end. We
walked to an overlook to admire the falls before we returned to the car. I was
far more relaxed on the drive back to Crystal City, although it was impossible
to say whether that was due to the two glasses of wine I had consumed or
because I had abandoned all previous thoughts of Frank being a serial killer.

Frank
escorted me into the hotel lobby before kissing me softly on both cheeks. Cheek
kissers don’t really live in Montana, so I stood there awkwardly. I wasn’t sure
whether I was supposed to turn my cheek, kiss his cheek, or kiss the air. I
wondered if this was a formality that I would have to learn if I moved to DC.

Frank
handed me his business card and a beautifully wrapped package that he had carried
in from the car. The gift was a new pashmina, which looked considerably more
expensive than the one Frank had bled on. I thanked him profusely, he thanked
me profusely, and we said our goodbyes. I gathered my luggage from the bellman
and called Habib so he could drive me to the airport for the long flight home.

*
* * * * *

I
fielded an endless stream of questions about DC when I returned to my office
the next morning. My jalapeno, cheese, and egg bagel remained uneaten for the
most part. Eventually, I scribbled “DO NOT DISTURB” on a pink Post-it note and
slapped it on my door so I could forge through phone messages.

My
sign was up for all of ten minutes when Charlie strode through the door. He
pulled the sticky note down, wadded it up, and threw it at me. I took issue
with this… only because the wadded up paper landed in my coffee. I glared at
Charlie as I fished the soggy note out of my cup. “This had better be good.”

Charlie
smiled as he pulled up a chair. “Trust me. It’s good.”

I
raised one eyebrow. “This from the man who conned me into hosting a television
show and applying for a fellowship in DC?”

Charlie’s
smile widened. “Both of which are exceptional career building opportunities… Look,
Mike and I have made a decision about this fellowship you applied for.”

I
began organizing the papers scattered across my desk. “You mean the fellowship
you
made
me apply for?” He did. Sort of. It was his idea anyway.

“I
merely nudged you in the right direction.” Charlie’s face looked more innocent
than it should. “Mike and I want to offer you a deal.”

I
shoved the paperwork aside, leaned forward, and propped my elbows on my desk.
“A deal? What kind of deal?”

Charlie’s
eyes locked on mine. “You accept the fellowship when it’s offered to you…”

“IF
it’s offered to me,” I firmly corrected.

“WHEN
it’s offered to you,” he insisted, “and we’ll hold your job for one year so you
can come back when the fellowship ends.”

“What
do you mean ‘hold my job?’” I had never heard of jobs being held in state
government before.

Charlie
leaned forward in the chair, his elbows resting casually against his knees. “We
won’t advertise or fill your position. We’ll divide and temporarily reassign
your responsibilities to other people in the office so you can return to this
position if you decide to come back.”

My
eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

Charlie
shook his head. “No catch. You go to DC. Advocate for seniors living in rural
areas. Gain some experience with the legislative process, and keep your eyes
open for opportunities that will improve federal funding streams for us. When
the fellowship ends, your job will be waiting for you.”

My
jaw fell slack. “Wow, Charlie. I can’t believe you would do that for me. I
don’t know what to say, but… thank you. If I am awarded the fellowship, I would
definitely want to return to Montana and work for this office again.” I loved being
the state’s designated elder rights advocate and had been hoping to return to
the position once I completed law school.

“Good.
Then it’s settled.” Charlie pushed the chair back against the wall as he turned
to leave. He paused in the doorway, but he didn’t turn back around. “Kri,
you’ll get this fellowship, and you
will
go. We’ll hold your job for
you, but you won’t be coming back. I just want you to know… that’s okay. It’s
okay if you don’t come back.”

My
breath caught sharply. Tears pricked my eyes as I stared at Charlie’s back.
“Charlie, don’t say that. I’ll come back…”

Charlie
turned back around. His blue eyes met mine. “No, Kri. You’re going to meet
someone in DC. You’re going to fall in love, and you’re going to start living
your life.” He didn’t bother waiting for a response. He just turned and walked away.

I
sat there, momentarily stunned, before leaping from my chair. “Ha! I’m not even
going to date while I’m there!” I scowled as I sank back into my chair. Charlie
seemed entirely too confident in his prediction. I silently cursed his direct
line to God.

*
* * * * *

My
blood boiled as I stared at the reports strewn across my desk. There were nine
complaints of stolen property… all generated from the same assisted living
facility in Butte. Three cases involved wedding rings stolen from residents’
fingers while they slept, two involved hearing aids, and four involved missing
dentures. I shook my head. Stealing from frail elders was bad enough, but what
kind of person would take their teeth?

I
thought about the four cases involving missing dentures. The residents were
going to have a hard time getting Medicaid and Medicare to cover a new set of
dentures, but they’d all be thrown on a pureed diet and lose weight if they
didn’t have any teeth to eat with. Few elderly people could afford to lose
weight, and sudden weight loss could lead to complications with medications. I
reached for my phone, intent on reporting the nine thefts to the Medicaid Fraud
investigator. My other line rang before I could finish dialing his number.