Period of Adjustment Ch. 01-04

"You don't lack confidence."

"I'm only going to get so many chances to make a good impression on you. And ... I do want to make a good impression."

She gave me that searching look again. "So far, you're doing fine. You've rescued me from having to deal with that flat tire, you've rescued me from another boring evening with my cousin, so maybe you'll rescue me from wondering what I'm going to do tomorrow."

"May I be so bold as to suggest we spend the day together? I'm new to this area, and I'd like to go down to the coast ... see the Pacific."

"That's sounds like something we'd both enjoy. Promise you'll be on your best behaviour?"

"Ahh ... well ... I'll try."

"Try?"

"Well, you can hardly blame me if I get ... ideas when I'm with a beautiful woman."

"Oh ... what kind of ideas?"

"I won't say. I don't want to spoil tomorrow. I certainly don't want to scare you off." I was trying very hard to keep the conversation light, even though it was a bit adventuresome.

"It's a good thing I trust you, Nathan. Otherwise ... there wouldn't be a tomorrow."

I got the impression she wasn't kidding, so I called a halt to the provocative banter.

She turned to me. "I'd better get back to Janice's place. I'll need my sleep if you're going to keep me out all day."

I rose, paid the bill, and walked with her out to the car.

When I escorted her up the stairs to her front door, she turned to me.

"If you pick me up at eight, we can have breakfast together. My treat."

"Eight o'clock ... I'll be here."

I was about to watch her go when she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my lips. It may have lasted only one or two seconds, but it had an incredible effect. I hadn't been kissed in a long, long time, and the sensation went right to my groin.

"Good night," she said softly, turning and walking inside, closing the door, but looking back as she did.

I don't recall my short journey back to my room, but I was in a state after that one simple gesture of hers. I wondered if I would get any sleep after the shot of adrenalin she had generated.

Chapter 3: Thrown to the Wolves

Despite temptations, I had worked very hard to suppress any sexual feelings while in prison. It had been easier when I learned of Elise's rapid exit. She soured me on the female of the species. I managed to neuter myself mentally for most of my term. Now ... I could allow myself the luxury of those emotions once again. Natasha was the first opportunity. I was handling myself clumsily, I knew. I had to go back in time to remember my long-lost skills.

I joined the Army just after turning eighteen. I had no plans for college even though I qualified with my marks. I wanted some adventure, and I wanted to get away from the restrictions of home. The Army, my father's training ground in engineering, was my first choice. I easily passed the physical, and went for my interview.

"You really should consider officer training, Colin," Lt. Czmanski advised. "You've got the grades and the potential. You're in good physical condition, and I think you'd do well at Basic Officer Training. There are more than a dozen schools for specialization. I wish you'd give it some thought."

"Yes, sir. I was hoping there would be room for me in engineering."

"I think we can find a space for you, assuming you get through basic, and your aptitude tests show you have the necessary capabilities." The lieutenant wore a smile, probably thinking he had convinced me.

I had no way of knowing how difficult a path I had chosen, but with the ignorance and enthusiasm of youth, and my determination to follow my father's footsteps, I set out to make a career of the army.

It didn't work out quite the way I had expected. I wanted to go to engineering school, but according to the aptitude test, I was more suited for other fields. Among the other fields they suggested was one that nearly floored me: intelligence.

They said I had very good logic and problem solving skills, and this made me a potential candidate. My ability to concentrate, keep my cool under pressure, and sustain myself alone in the field, were additional important factors.

I had a strange idea of just what Military Intelligence was all about, notwithstanding the usual jokes about it being the original oxymoron. A conversation with two senior officers convinced me that it would both interesting and valuable.

I was to become an analyst, learning to assess situations on the information available, and to propose possible responses and solutions to field situations. What was critical was determining that the information we passed along was as accurate as humanly possible. Field commanders in places like Rwanda and Bosnia-Herzegovina were desperately dependent on that accuracy.

Despite some misgivings about my qualifications, I signed up. Less than a year later, having passed through basic training, I was fully immersed in learning to become an analyst. Thanks to some stern lectures from my C.O., I took my responsibilities very seriously. I didn't smile a lot, and I didn't often drink. It earned me the nickname "Rocky." My one weakness was to chase women. On the other hand, I moved up through the ranks as an acknowledgement of my progress and my attitude toward my job.

I left the army at age twenty-four after seven years. Rising quickly to the rank of Captain, I had been trained and schooled and trained some more, but my duties were horribly narrow, and after a while I felt I was no longer being challenged. When I mustered out, I didn't have a clear idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I wasn't very confident that I was qualified for conventional jobs. I was still pretty young, but I did worry about the future.

It didn't take much for a recruiter from CSIS to interest me in a new career. Newly married, I needed a job. They were attracted by my analytical skills, and my willingness to tackle complex situations, devising potential strategies. It also involved field work. This was much more to my liking. I was being given some freedom to use my talent, and not just report up the chain of command.

A short indoctrination period, followed by more training, and I was assigned to Section 3, the top end of the service. That was my first surprise. I was young and just getting started. I didn't realize how much my army training had contributed to my selection to the elite element. Later I would learn just how cynical the whole process had been. The smart guys knew enough to choose Section 2 as a stepping stone. I hadn't been around long enough to know better.

I was young and enthusiastic, wanting to excel in a way that would make my father proud. I knew he was disappointed that I had left the army after only a few years, but he was mollified somewhat when I joined CSIS.

The catch was, of course, that I couldn't divulge very much about my activities. I thought that much of the secrecy was unnecessary nonsense, but I had signed the Official Secrets Act, and I was duty-bound to obey the rules. My father understood, but my wife and mother didn't. Only my father's assurances to my mother that I was doing something important for the country quieted her questions. As far as Elise was concerned, I don't think I ever convinced her that I was doing something important.

It was nearing the end of the third year of my employment when I was assigned to a special operation aimed at intercepting cross-border smuggling. It was a touchy political situation. It involved First Nations individuals, a biker gang, and possibly some law enforcement people on both sides of the border.

The Mohawk nation had maintained that there was no border on their reserve, since their traditional lands lay in both Quebec and New York State. After a couple of nasty stand-offs, the politicians were reluctant to take a hard line on the issue. As a result, cross-border smuggling of guns, drugs, cigarettes, liquor, and even people, was rampant.

My job was to work undercover in the motorcycle gang, and spread doubt about the trustworthiness of their Mohawk partners. I was uneasy with this plan. I was to finger one of the native leaders as a RCMP spy, and create unrest and distrust among the alliance. We wanted to fragment the structure, and find some weak links we could exploit.

When I planted the seed, I might have known what the consequence would be. The native was found floating in the St. Lawrence River with his hands bound behind him, and a bullet hole in the back of his head. It turned out the dead man was the son of the hereditary chief, and as the saying goes, the shit fell from dizzy heights.

It might have been black-comedy funny if it hadn't been so fucked up and ugly. It turned out the wrong man had been identified by our intelligence. We'd set him up to be killed, and I was the guy who did the setting up. The sight of a half-dozen CSIS overlords with their hands covering their asses was something to behold. In the meantime, I was busy trying to find out who did the actual execution. At least we could salvage that from this cluster-fuck.

I couldn't believe it when two plain-clothes Mounties showed up at my door with an arrest warrant. I was being charged the with second degree murder of the native. The Crown contended that I had lit the fuse that the bikers used to erase the informant. The fact that I had identified the killer carried no weight. I was charged with being an accessory to murder.

Naturally, my section chief, being the stalwart man he was, told me not to worry. He would make it all go away. Bullshit! I was tried and convicted and sentenced to twelve years in maximum security, Kingston Penitentiary. Oooopps! was about all I got from the heroic Mr. Taggart when the sentence was handed down. I was to spend the next eight-and-a-third years in prison, thanks to a mistake by someone else, and a gutless boss.

If I learned anything about myself in my time in the army and CSIS, I knew that I had a very strong sense of self-discipline. Perhaps I had it all along, but my training in those two organizations developed and fine-tuned it. It was my most valuable asset as I languished in prison.

Eight years is a long time to spend being pissed-off. Eight years is a long time to live among the dregs of society, knowing full well ninety-nine percent of them belong there. Eight years is a long time to defend yourself from the bullies, druggies, and other scum who are always looking for a way to drag you into their net ... or take you out. Eight years is a long time to perfect the art of being a loner.

But eight years was enough to learn, to plan, and to plot my revenge. They, my former employer, had made an enemy. One who had little regard for the consequences that his actions might produce. I had only one mantra: I would never go back to prison ... no matter what!

Chapter 4: The Way Home

When I picked up Natasha promptly at eight the next morning, I must have stared. She was dressed in a very revealing tank-top and a snug pair of denim shorts. A pair of soft-soled sandals completed the ensemble. She was quite a sight.

"I see you approve of my outfit." She was grinning at my reaction.

"Hell, yes. Me ... and every other guy within sighting distance."

"Thanks, that's good for my ego," she said as she slipped into the front seat.

She led me to a nice, modern-looking café on the road to the coast where we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. As promised, she paid. We continued on down the valley through a couple of small towns until we arrived in Jenner. It was another sunny, warm, late summer day, with the sun glistening off the Pacific.

We spent the entire day together, wandering from one small place to another. Lunch in Bodega Bay, a walk at Point Reyes, an unhurried drive along the Gravenstein Highway back to Sebastapol. I was completely relaxed and comfortable in Natasha's presence. She had a lot to do with that. She was acting as if we were old friends who'd known each other for years. It made for a pleasant day, and I'd rather it didn't end.

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" I asked as we neared her cousin's home.

She looked over to me, a wrinkle on her brow. "Haven't you had enough of me yet?"

"No. Not at all. Have you had enough of me?"

She didn't answer right away, but her eyes never left mine. "You know I'm flying back home tomorrow?"

"Well ... I've been meaning to talk to you about that." I was running out of time to spring my spur-of-the-moment plan. "I was going to suggest I drive you back. It's an easy three day drive, and you'd get to see northern California and the Oregon coast."

"But what about my plane ticket?"

"You could cash it in when you get back to Vancouver. If not, I'll buy it from you."

"I suppose I'm expected to sleep with you."

"Nope. We'll have separate rooms. You'll be completely safe from me." I tried to say it in a reassuring manner.

"Yeah ... like hell." She went quiet again. I decided not in to interrupt. "Why?"

"I like you, and we seem to be very comfortable in each other's company. It would make the trip much more interesting and less tiring than my driving up the interstate by myself. You'd get to extend your vacation another couple of days, too."

"Why are you offering to pay for all this ... vacation?"

"Because I can. You and I seem to be compatible ... so ... I just thought ...." I quit there. The ball was in her court now.

"I don't think Janice will be very happy. I hardly know you at all."

"I think I can ease both your minds. Janice has an e-mail address. I'll photo my passport and driver's license and my car, showing the plates. I'll e-mail them to her. If anything were to happen, she could instantly give the authorities a complete description of you, me, and my vehicle."

She continued to look at me for some time before turning away. "I'll think about it."

"Fair enough. Now ... about dinner."

"Janice is allergic to seafood. Do you think you could stand two nights at the same restaurant?"

"Absolutely. I only got to try one dish, and it was terrific. I'd be delighted to take you there."

"Fine. Drop me at the house. I want to have a shower and change. Pick me up at six, please. Janice usually has dinner with the boys then. Is that alright?"

"Yes, see you at six." I had a nice feeling about this conversation. The trip up the coast wasn't a done deal, but I sensed she would give it a fair hearing.

The meal was excellent, just as I expected. Natasha loved crab, while I wanted to try the calamari, fresh from Monterey Bay. Neither of us was disappointed. She was clearly still mulling my proposal over in her mind, uncertain whether to accept or not.

"How can you afford to pay for all this?" she asked, referring to the meal and my offer of a ride.

"Does it matter? Just be satisfied that I can ... easily. Besides, I get a certain benefit from it too, you know."

She looked up sharply at me.

"I get the pleasure of your company, someone to talk to, someone to help keep me alert along the drive. That's worth quite a lot to me."

"I can drive, too," she said, still watching me carefully.

"Excellent. We can spell each other off. There's another benefit for me."

"I have no idea why I should trust you, Nathan. No idea at all. But ... somehow ... I do."

I shrugged. "Usually your first instincts are your best."

"Yeah. Sometimes they can fool you too."

"Look, Natasha. I'm not trying to put a lot of pressure on you. It may seem like it, but ... it's your decision. Do what you think is right. I'll accept that, whatever you decide."

She studied me for a while longer. We had finished the meal, and were waiting for the waiter to remove the plates. When he had done so and we had declined a dessert, she looked up at me.

"Alright. Let's do it. It beats the hell out of flying these days. As you said, it gives me three more days of vacation. Let's do it."

"Great! What time would you like me to pick you up in the morning? Eight o'clock too soon?"

"No, that's fine. Janice will have the kids off to school about then, so it will work out great."

"I thought we'd drive up Highway 101. We should be able to make it to Leggett for lunch, and you can get a good look at the redwoods. After that, we'll head north towards Oregon. Shouldn't be too hard a drive," I said happily. Inwardly, I was bubbling.

She smiled and nodded.

"I'll look after e-mailing my information to Janice right after we leave here. That should give her a bit of comfort."

"I think she still thinks I'm thirteen, and innocent. She's only a few years older than I am, but she's remembering when she babysat me. I have to keep reminding her that was a long time ago."

I paid the bill, left a nice tip, and walked with Natasha out to the parking lot. I pulled out my pocket digital camera, and took a picture of my car, front and back, clearly showing the license plate. I showed the picture to her and she nodded in satisfaction. I took my passport out and had her hold it open to the appropriate page while I took another picture, then the same with my driver's license. Each time, I showed her the image on the camera's little screen.

We walked across the street to my room, and I downloaded the pictures to my laptop. Natasha and I both made sure the images were clear and legible before I emailed them to her cousin. I saw a look of confidence on her face. I had done exactly what I said I was going to do, and that counted with her.

"This is a nice room," she said.

"It is ... I hope I find a couple more just like it for the next two nights. I had pretty good luck when I was coming across the country." I watched her as she looked around the room appreciatively. "Why don't we go for a walk around town? It's early yet. Who knows, we might even work up an appetite for dessert," I suggested.

"Sure. That's sounds like a good idea."

By eight-thirty, it was getting dark, and we worked our way back toward the Valley Inn.

"How about that dessert?"

She nodded. "Okay. Let's see what they have at the motel restaurant."

A half hour later, we had finished our food, and we were enjoying an after-dinner drink, quietly talking about nothing in particular. Janet chose Bailey's with ice, while I splurged on a Hennessey Five Star Cognac in a heated snifter. I was feeling very good about the next three days.

I drove Natasha back to her cousin's place, and again I got a nice kiss on the doorstep before she went inside. That good feeling could settle in for a long stay, I hoped.

Just before eight the next morning, I arrived at Janice's home and mounted the stairs. I was just about to knock, when the door swung open, and two lively young boys bounded out the door, backpacks slung over their shoulders, and almost flew down the front steps, never missing a beat. I had to laugh as I watched, then turned back to the door to see Janice shaking her head.

"Manners are not very well established yet, Nate."

"I don't think that comes until a bit later. Just be grateful they seem enthusiastic about going to school"

"I suppose. Natasha will be down in a minute. She's just finishing packing."

"Did you get my e-mail?"

"Yes. Thank you. That does help settle my mind. Just the same ... I'm having a hard time thinking she's all grown up, and can do what she wants. You will look after her, won't you?" She didn't act like she was deeply concerned.

"You have my word on it. The last thing I want to do is spoil what might be the start of a nice friendship. Who knows where it might end up," I shrugged.

"Well, just make sure to look after her. If you don't, you'll have to answer to me." I got the impression she was serious.

"I've been warned," I acknowledged. At that point, Natasha appeared with her wheeled bag and a small carry-on. I took the larger bag from her, and we said our goodbyes to Janice. A minute later, the car was turned toward Santa Rosa and Highway 101.