Caged Eagles (10 page)

“It's a survey, Mother; they wish to know who I'm supporting for the future election.”

“That's soon. Elections aren't until next fall.”

She returned to the phone conversation, “Anchorage.”

“Great … and before you go Sarah, I love you.”

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The long line at the bank had hardly been worth it. Trevor had only two hundred and fifty dollars in his account. It was hardly enough to make it through the next couple of weeks, let alone traveling to Alaska to find Sarah. This bad news left Trevor in a dismal mood. Finding a job that would earn him fast money didn't exist. He made his way to his favorite old bar, Lucky Number 8. This was his home away from home on the corner of Fifteenth and Washington. The front doors folded open and closed on their own like an old phone booth. Trevor moved across the wood floors to the figure-eight bar in the center of the room. His reflection appeared like a long-awaited friend in the mirror above his head.

“Hey Trevor,” Sammy, the manager of Lucky Number 8 stopped wiping off the bar top with a wet rag to speak to his ex-employee. “I heard you were in rehab.”

“Yeah, but that's the past.” Trevor slid onto a bar stool.

“I suppose you're looking for your old job back?” Sammy moved down the bar to fill another patron's glass.

“I need to make some extra cash in order to get a ticket to Alaska.”

Sammy slid the amber-colored beer across the counter to his customer and came back to Trevor. “Getting out of town, huh?”

“I'll be back. Sarah's in Alaska.”

“I hoped you guys would make it. What's she doing up there?”

“Moved with her parents.”

Sammy took a twenty-dollar coin from one of his regulars. “Does she know you're out?”

“Yeah, I talked to her yesterday.” “I can start you on Saturday.” Sammy moved to the register and put the coin safely inside. “It's the next shift I have available.”

Waiting until Saturday would be an additional four days he wouldn't be with Sarah. It ate away at him. Trevor wouldn't find another job offer that allowed him at least a week of vacation right away. Sammy filled another glass with chocolate-colored beer.

“I'll see you Saturday.” Trevor slid off the stool and went across the room to the computers. He figured he would read the news and catch up on things he had missed over the time he spent in rehab. One link after another led him to an article about a small riot in New York. Trevor remembered Blaine and wondered if the riot was held by anyone he had known. He pushed the home page button at the top of the screen and typed in Blaine's name. Thousands of results popped up before him. Trevor clicked on the first site.

Trevor opened the next site and began to read.

The last article piqued Trevor's interest. He wondered how efficiently Blaine's group had stayed together after he was arrested. Could a secret language have been created to keep the supporters protected? Trevor scanned through a few more articles until he found:

She cut him off and asked her next question.

He didn't answer her question but instead turned and looked directly into the camera.

Trevor exited the screen and closed his eyes. They burned from being overused. He opened them. Outside the sun had gone down and the evening shadows set in. Couples strolled past the window. Women hugged the arms of their boyfriends to shield themselves from the crisp night air.

Trevor turned around to see Leslie sitting on a bar stool. She wore a black dress that sloped over her left shoulder while the right remained bare. The bottom only went to her knees, and reminded Trevor of the day he teased Sarah about dressing as Jane–and he as Tarzan, for Halloween. Her hair was curled into big loops that fell down around her shoulders. A pair of black heels accented her legs, small noodle straps wrapped up her calf. She was playing with the olive in her vodka martini. Trevor walked back across the bar and nodded to her drink.

“So did you get it standard, dry, or hot desert sand?”

“Standard,”

“I knew it.”

“I never really knew what dry meant anyway.”

“Just less and less vermouth until there isn't any in it. Then it's an extremely dry martini.”

“I think I will stick to my standard.” She took a sip of her drink. “I didn't expect to see you again, Mr. Wells.”

“Trevor,” he corrected, “there's no need to be formal now.”

“How have the last few days been?”

“Good, mostly getting my old apartment cleaned up.”

Leslie rubbed her thumb up and down the stem of the glass. “You have been inside cleaning?”

“Did you think I would go running down the street screaming 'I'm free, I'm free'?” Leslie laughed and shook her head. “No, but I would have imagined you would have connected with old friends.”

“I did, Forrest Evans. He's using my extra room right now until he can find another apartment.”

“That's wonderful.”

Trevor raised a hand to order a beer and the bartender nodded her head.

“Yeah, but Brandi started to date him and she conveniently forgot to mention I was her ex.”

“She mentioned that.” Leslie took a sip of her martini. Her eyes avoid him.

“You've been talking to her?”

“Yes,” she looked up into his face. “She called me the other day very upset that Mr. Evans had left her.”

Trevor took a gulp of beer and set his glass down hard on the counter.

Leslie noticed and hastily added, “I didn't realize she had been dating Mr. Evans. She did mention you had assaulted her and forced her to give you Miss Morrison's number.”

“Listen, something you need to realize about Brandi Lewis is that she feeds off drama. I promise she will cause trouble for you if you don't cut her out of your life now.”

“She lied about you attacking her?”

“I showed up at her place and told Forrest the truth. Now,” Trevor raised his beer in the air. “Do we have to argue? Can't we enjoy this?” He could see Leslie's mouth open to protest but she lifted her drink instead. The clink of glass on glass rang through the air.

“Anything new at work since I've been gone?” Trevor didn't much care, but it was one way to change the subject.

“Yes, I have started counseling Blaine Martin, your old roommate.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, he will be a very interesting patient to have.”

“Why?”

“I can't discuss that, Trevor.” She said his name for the first time. A timid smile spread across her lips and she took another drink of her martini.

“Hey, Trevor, can you work Friday night?” Sammy interrupted their conversation.

“Sure.”

“You will be working here?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah, I need to make some money. I want to get out of town for a while.”

“Probably a very good idea. I suggest that to many of my patients when they are released.”

“Only problem is that it will take a couple of months before I'm able to earn the money.” Trevor drank the rest of his beer and pushed the glass and a twenty to the other side of the counter. Sammy walked by and swept both items away.

“I may have a part-time job for you, if you are interested.”

“Really?”

“A friend of a friend needs some help around her house. I heard she is willing to pay well.”

“That would be fantastic, is there a number I can call?”

“Yes,” Leslie opened her small purse and pulled out a miniature note pad and pen. “Her name is Mrs. Ava Carr. I suggest you call her as soon as possible.”

Leslie folded the note and handed it to Trevor between two pink fingernails.

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He needed to talk to Sarah; his whole body yearned to hear her voice. Trevor went downstairs into the lobby and entered the computer cubicle. He had to borrow Forrest's credit card to use the online phone network. The same maid answered and transferred the call straight to Sarah.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Babe.”

“Trevor,” her voice whispered.

“I had to call, I had to hear you.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“Are you still in Anchorage?”

“Yes, but Brandi called and ranted all these lies, from you assaulting her, to you dating another woman.”

Trevor leaned closer to the speaker. “Brandi constantly tries to cause problems; did she mention she dated my roommate, Forrest, to get closer to me?”

“Disgusting, I'm sorry this has happened. I think my parents believed her and I'm worried they will do something.”

“Like what?” His heart beat began to quicken.

“They are talking about Vermont; we have a place there.”

“Sarah you have to stay, I'll be in Anchorage soon.”

“I know, I'm holding my breath.”

Trevor felt his own lungs tighten. She couldn't slip through his fingers now that he was so close to being with her again. “I have so much to tell you and I can't wait until I see you.”

“Same here, I've missed you so much.”

“Me too, I would dream about you all the time in rehab.”

“You don't dream about me now that you're out?”

They both snickered and Trevor could just see Sarah's smile in his mind.

“No, just belly dancers.”

“I guess I don't feel guilty about the Chip and Dales constantly haunting my dreams, I'll enjoy it more than I already am.”

Again soft laughter came across the phone line.

“I love you, but I'm not sure why,” he teased back. She giggled again.

“I can't talk long.” Sarah's voice lost its energy and he could feel her sadness over the phone.

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

Trevor listened for the phone line to go dead before disconnecting himself.

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Trevor buried his head under the pillow, forcing all light out. He remembered when he was smaller and his mother had taken him and his sister to Atlanta. It was the only time Trevor had been out of Denver. He recalled the coolness of the air conditioner on his sunburned arms. At one point he had gotten in trouble for rolling the window down and let the cool air escape into the summer humidity outside.

His mother had always been stressed, though at eight years old he only understood it as being grouchy. She worked as a waitress during the daytime and as a janitor for a large office building at night. Once she took Trevor with her and he ran though the cubicles while she cleaned. He pretended to be a jungle cat.

She had begun to get wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her strawberry-colored hair was always frizzy, but on this trip all the stress had seemed to leave her. That was probably why his thoughts often wandered back in time to that vacation. She smiled and laughed with him and his sister. They were a loving family, again, on that trip. The tension and ever present thought that his father had deserted them was gone, left back in Denver. Trevor remembered they went to see his grandparents, but all those memories were fuzzy. The crystal, clear moments were those of pure happiness, free from the guilt of wondering if his father had left because of him.

He'd climbed onto an old tire swing one night. His hair was too long and kept blowing in his face. It needed cutting badly but his mother had not had time. The tree creaked when he swung back and forth. Another world suddenly created itself right there and the young boy felt like a superhero. He pushed harder off the ground, flying into the dark night toward the stars and the half moon. Anything could have happened at that moment. Only in those stars did the true feeling of peace, justice, and freedom, exist. How he knew this at eight years old was beyond him, but he did.

Trevor opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He thought about his dream and how different things would have been for his family if his father had stayed. Trevor remembered the tire swing. Blaine Martin was the first person to make him believe in that type of freedom again. He thought about the articles he had read the day before. Becoming involved with Blaine would be difficult. He'd have to get in contact with his secret organization somehow. This might be impossible and he had to find Sarah. He sat up and stretched, but his bones still ached to be with her.

He climbed out of bed and made his way to the living room, where Forrest sat with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Though food did sound appetizing, Trevor slumped into a heap on the couch. He couldn't get his thoughts off his dream, Blaine, or Sarah.

“What's going on in that head of yours?” Forrest set the bowl down on the floor. Trevor stared at the baseball highlights on T.V. but didn't comprehend anything the sports broadcaster said.

“I had a weird dream and it has me think about stuff this morning.” Trevor scratched his chest and yawned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Have you ever heard of Blaine Martin?”

Forrest turned the volume of the T.V. down. “Yes, what about him?”

“He was my roommate after you were stabbed. He had a lot of interesting ideas.”

“You do realize he was in prison because ….”

“Yeah, I do. I spent some time yesterday reading up on him. He's chosen an intriguing way to live.”

Forrest's body stiffened with apprehension. “So what has you thinking?”

“Why he's done what he has but anyway,” Trevor changed the subject. “I talked with Leslie Taylor last night at Lucky Number 8.”

“Did you?” Forrest crossed his arms.

“It wasn't a date,” Trevor declared. “I was trying to get my old job back and ran into her. She gave me a number for this woman that needs help on her house. Do you have the time to come and help?”

“Yeah, I'm not working too many hours at the mechanic shop anyway. The extra cash would be great.” Forrest picked up his bowl and took it to the kitchen.

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Over the next seven days Trevor and Forrest helped Mrs. Ava Carr manage her house and yard. Ava considered herself a well-accomplished gardener. Gradually, her type-2 diabetes had restricted her passion. Each spring she enlisted the help of two young men or women to clean her yard, garage, small chicken coop, and greenhouse.

Forrest held Ava by the elbow and forearm. The elderly woman pushed the greenhouse door open. Trevor set a plastic pot down and grabbed her lawn chair. Forrest made sure her pillows were positioned behind her back before beginning to gather pots around the tiny nursery.

“Why don't you bring me that box of seeds over there.” Ava pointed to the far corner. Trevor reached out and pulled the box toward him. He set it gently on her lap. Ava pulled on her gardening gloves and began to browse through each package. Trevor dumped out crusty, infertile clumps of dirt from the previous year.

“Are my bulbs out here?”

“I saw them in the house, I'll go get them.” Forrest set a bag of fresh planting soil down next to her chair and left the shed. She turned her head as far over her shoulder as she could to watch him go.

“I'm sure glad you two boys were able to help this old lady out. It's getting harder and harder to find good workers.”

“Not even high school kids?” Trevor knocked over one of the clay pots. Ava's eyes widened at the commotion but said nothing.

“No, they don't want to put in the work, despite the roll of cash I hand out at the end.” Ava pulled the silk scarf off her snowy white hair. “Can I ask why such a capable young man agreed to help me out for a week?”

Trevor swept the pile of soil off the table top and onto the dirt floor as Ava had instructed. “I needed to make some quick money to get to Alaska.”

“Will my eight hundred dollars be enough?”

“Yeah, and if not, I'll make Forrest come along, get out, and show some leg.”

Ava burst out laughing. She covered her stomach with one hand. When she was able to speak she said, “Oh you must have been a handful for your mama.”

“Yeah, I gave the poor woman grief.”

“I bet she also found herself lucky to have such a witty boy. Tell me, what is the big rush to get to the last frontier?”

“I have a girlfriend I'm trying to get to.”

“Ah, love is what's causing this cross-country trip. What's she like?”

“Here comes that hopeless romantic in you, Ava,” Trevor joked, “Her name is Sarah. She's,” Trevor paused, looking for the right word.

“I see, she is that type of girl.” Ava folded the scarf around her hair again.

“Yeah, I haven't seen her in a long time; her parents didn't want us around each other so they took her to Alaska.”

“They think you're trouble?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?” Her eyebrows both rose as a mother's do.

“About as that old dog of yours.” Trevor pointed a trowel toward the doorway. Ava's pug, Clicks, grunted in his sleep. One leg kicked at the air. Ava giggled again.

“I haven't known you long, Trevor, but you aren't one to sit back in life. You're a leader, level headed, and a good man. My husband was like that, he was a large supporter of that rebellion years ago. Thousands of people supported that cause–too bad nothing came of it.” She pulled out a package of seeds labeled 'wild flowers' and set it on the arm of her chair.

“Really,” Trevor leaned his elbow against the table and listened carefully.

“Yes, we wanted the government to cut the puppet strings and let individuals be. Isn't that the real reason this country was founded?”

Trevor remained silent, thinking of Ava's comment, and Blaine.

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The last evening Trevor and Forrest worked for Ava she insisted they stay for dinner. They had not finished planting all of her beloved flowers but there was still time after eating. Ava leaned against the stove creating delicious aromas. Trevor's stomach snarled and growled to be fed. Forrest tried to help her, but she forcefully kicked him out of the kitchen. It was the only space she could still dominate despite her illness.

Trevor had to bite his tongue when Ava announced she was cooking breakfast for dinner. He hadn't ever heard of anything so absurd, but that was Ava– quirky. She walked over and tossed a chicken-shaped pancake on his plate.

“Um, Ava someone ran over one of your chickens, and it's on my plate.”

Ava only rolled her eyes and chuckled, “And I doubt if a moment of time will be wasted in eating it.”

“You've got that right.” Trevor began eating and at the same time poured a thick river of syrup on top of the pancake. Ava brought more cakes all shaped in various animal forms for the two ravenous men.

“Ava, you have a such a beautiful house.” Forrest reached forward and stabbed another pancake with his fork.

“It's alright,” Ava waved the spatula in the air. “My husband built the house. It was once a lot more elaborate than it is now, probably twice as big.”

“What happened?” Trevor asked.

“A fire caught most of it five years ago and I never found a need to rebuild, especially since it's just me and Clicks.” The dog raised its head at the sound of his name. “I would show you pictures but I'm sure you boys don't want to suffer through an old lady showing off freeze-frames of her past.”

“Just as long as there aren't any naked babies in tubs or pictures of flowers, we're up for it,” Trevor teased.

“Oh you.” Ava's eyes danced with laughter and she shook a finger at him. Trevor chuckled.

“Did your husband make the furniture?” Forrest asked.

“Some of it, these chairs, table, and a few benches around the house. He was very creative and sold his work all over. But,” she continued, “enough stories, they'll just lead to this old lady talking about award-winning flowers and naked babies covered in shampoo.”

All three laughed. Trevor wiped his mouth and stood up.

“I'm going to finish up outside. You two have everything covered in here?”

“I think we'll be fine.” Ava's eyes sparkled and danced.

The conservatory offered a tranquil atmosphere to think. Blaine possessed his thoughts again. This baffled Trevor. Why did everything about this man fascinate him? Knowing Blaine had awakened Trevor's eagerness to hope again. Maybe this was why Blaine and Sarah were often in the same thought. They both represented principles Trevor could respect and trust. How could he be thinking about joining Blaine? It was a suicide mission! He would be diving headfirst into the unknown, knowing nothing about what he was getting himself into.

Trevor scooped his hands into the potting soil and dumped it into the flowerpot. He pushed the moist earth down around the roots. He repeated this ritual with four other plants lined up in front of him.

What would Sarah think of these rebellious thoughts? He wished he could speak to her. She would put everything into perspective for him. If she did agree with him, how would he ever come in contact with this secret society? He rubbed his temples in an attempt to erase the relentless questions in his mind.

Trevor stepped into the bathroom off the front porch to wash the dirt off his hands. He could hear Forrest and Ava speaking quietly at the kitchen table. Ava's chair creaked.

“Why don't you go find Trevor.”

“I'm here.” Trevor walked around the corner. Ava smiled up at him as she walked into the room with a cookie jar.

“Ava, don't tell me that's where you keep the cash from your latest bank heist?”

She giggled and set the jar on the table, “Only if I robbed the Cookie Monster. I'll be right back, please help yourselves to dessert.”

Moments later she reappeared with their cash rolled into a neat circle. Forrest pocketed the money and left the room to go call a taxi. Trevor stood at the doorway with Ava. Mosquitoes bombarded the glass, trying to get at their two victims on the other side. The woman's soft hand turned Trevor's palm face up. She didn't say a word, but placed a small box in his hand. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. The band bent around the sides of the diamond, holding it in place.

“Are you proposing, Ava? I'd love to say yes, but I have enough female problems as it is.”

“No, it's my old ring, you turkey. My husband gave it to me, and it had been passed down three generations in his family.”

“Then I can't take this.”

Trevor tried to give it back but she folded it into his hand and held it there with her own.

“My husband wanted to keep passing it on, and it so happens my children either didn't want it, or won't need it. I want to give it to you, so you can either sell it to get to Anchorage or give it to some lucky young woman one day.”

“Thank you, Ava.”

Trevor bent down and hugged the old woman. Her strength surprised him. A horn beeped outside.

“Now you boys keep in touch.”

“We will, don't worry.” Trevor stepped outside, waving away the assault of mosquitoes.