Secret Valentine

This possibility hit Amy hard, Melanie could see.

"Some women have babies but can't be good mothers. Jordan has an uncle, thank goodness, who could step up and take care of her, and get daycare for her while he has to work.

"Amy, what could you do that would make me give you away?"

She looked nervous. "I don't know, Mama."

"NOTHING. Amy, I am your mother FOREVER. You are STUCK with me, got it?"

"Yes, Mama."

As hard as things might get, I still have to be her rock. The worst part? The monster of a man who made me pregnant HAS given her away, and some day Amy is going to ask questions. Oh, I can't think about that now.

After some more hugs, they went home. They put away the groceries, and then mother and daughter cuddled together for a well-earned nap.

Chapter 12: Moving Right Along.

Saturday, Let It Go.

After dinner and clean up, Melanie offered her daughter a deal.

"I'm back on the computer tonight. But I'm going to let you watch Frozen, on one condition: NO SINGING. You watch, you listen, THEY sing. THAT'S IT. Do we have a deal?"

Amy put on her pouty face. "All right, Mama. Humming?"

"NO humming. Don't be sneaky, baby, or it's the trash can for that movie. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Mama."

To: chary974@proton.me

From: fourscars@beltwest.net

Subject: Situation

Saturday, January 28, 2023, 7:00 p.m.

Dear Jacob,

I had an interesting day with Amy today. It made me realize something.

Relax, don't get upset. It's still NO "X" for you, Jacob. (I hope we can get to a place where I'm not worrying about your possible reactions, because we are communicating better. Better than emails.)

Here is what I realized.

We parents sacrifice for our children. It comes as second nature. Maybe first. All over the world, in times of deprivation, mothers forgo meals so that their children can thrive.

Amy and I are not quite so badly off. But there IS a sacrifice I need to make for her.

I need to get over my selfish feelings about being completely independent. Amy should not have her life constrained, because of my horrible experience with the sperm donor.

That means, if there is a path forwards in my life that adds stability for us, I need to be open to it.

I can't just wallow in the past. I can't continue letting that man influence my life and my choices.

More importantly, I can't let him affect my daughter's life and choices.

It's been said, "A woman needs a man, like a fish needs a bicycle." I believe that is true, particularly for women who have resources enough to live on and support their dependents.

My resources aren't currently sufficient.

I wish that they were. I wish that you and I could have met and found a relationship organically, romantically, without any financial consideration overshadowing things.

Who knows, when we are face-to-face, maybe you and I will go nowhere. I hope not. I won't pretend that I don't enjoy hearing that a man is actually interested in me.

Let's do this. Write to me tomorrow evening, Sunday. Since Monday morning is a work day, of course, please try to send it by 8 p.m. If what I have written hasn't scared you away, I want to hear your plan for how we can meet.

I gather from your daily countdown numbers that you are orienting towards Valentine's Day.

That is NOT acceptable. Honestly, Jacob, I believe you need to put in more of an effort. I am very willing to work with you in any way I can.

But if your feelings for me are sincere, I expect to get from you your maximum effort. I think you can move faster.

As much as I needed, and appreciated, the money, it's clear that you could EASILY afford the expenditure. It's true, I need the money. But I can't become dependent on a man I cannot even speak with.

No more "easy" for you. NOW it starts getting hard.

(I'm even going to fight dirty. For us. Here I go: IF SHE SAW YOU RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD GINNY SAY? In fact, according to you, she DID say.)

These written messages have gotten us started.

It seems to me, the next step for you and for me is that Monday evening, we are going to have to talk on the telephone.

If that is too much, too fast, "tell" me tomorrow. And we will go our separate ways then, for good. To be honest, I will cry then. I know you will too.

But ultimately we will be better off, because this arm's length chocolate and money and email "relationship" isn't what we need. What either of us need.

Yes, I am poor. But an absentee "sugar daddy" is NOT the answer to my problems.

I expect your next message to me no later than 8:30 p.m. tomorrow, Sunday.

Until tomorrow, Jacob, I am

Thinking of You — 17 —

— MELANIE GEARY. 510-767-2676

She transmitted the message and then shut down her laptop and closed the lid.

Chapter 13: Nervous on a Lazy Sunday.

Melanie's habit was to restrict her activities on Sundays to only two things. Playground time with her daughter, and laundry. The laundry room for the complex had a full complement of machines, and with long experience she knew when to time her visits to be sure there were washers and dryers available.

For the day, she made a conscious effort to focus on Amy, and not think about Jacob. At the park, she made an extra effort to let Amy get full use of every piece of equipment. She climbed with her on the metal and plastic fortress, clambered over the monkey bars, and they sat on opposite ends of the teeter totter. Melanie kept close enough to ensure her daughter's safety, so the day could be special for her daughter.

For the first time, Amy was climbing high enough on the structures that a fall might hurt her, except that she was always safely in reach of her mother.

While her daughter napped, Melanie carried their loads of laundry back and forth, until everything was clean, folded, and put away.

At the end of the day, they had a quiet dinner, watched some age-appropriate television, and Amy was tucked in to bed and read her story by 8:00.

Opening her old laptop, Melanie was ready to read the next message from Jacob.

To: fourscars@beltwest.net

From: chary974@proton.me

Subject: Resolved

Sunday, January 29, 2023

Dear Melanie,

This is the fourth time I have started writing this message. I am feeling extremely anxious about moving from this emailing level to our next step using the telephone.

There are two Jacobs at the keyboard here. The intellectual Jacob is completely understanding of your wanting our connection to happen sooner, not later.

The shy, emotional Jacob? He is terrified.

What if you don't like the sound of my voice? What if you lose all patience with my tortoise-like approach? What if you still resent me for barging into your life with the daycare money?

So, this is the sound of me winding myself into a state of paralysis.

And then I re-read your last. And I hear the sound of you being resolute. And, I gain courage, to overcome shyness, and to meet you. Starting on the telephone. "Get over yourself!" I say.

I think, the more I dither over this keyboard, the more grief I cause myself.

Since you have supplied your number, I will telephone you at 8:30 tomorrow night, Monday.

I'm hopeful we can continue moving forward together, beginning with that call.

Until then, with enormous intensity, I am

Thinking of You — 16 —

Jacob

Melanie, relieved, blew out a long breath and then shut down her computer.

Chapter 14: The New Week, On Pins and Needles.

Everything about this Monday was routine, except for Melanie's feelings and nervous tension. Amy went to daycare, work was hellish, pickup at daycare was on time, and they returned to the complex.

Melanie was surprised on this evening to find an empty mailbox. No card. No sweet for Amy. This had become such a routine over the past two weeks.

She pushed away her sudden anxiety and focused on making their dinner, and later, reading a story to Amy and tucking her into bed.

Then, she allowed herself a small glass of wine and sprawled on the sofa, waiting for Jacob's call. The expected time, 8:30, came and went. No call. Not even a text. Then it was 8:45. 8:55. 9:15. Nothing.

Melanie had the horrible feeling of being stood up. Her eyes glistening with unshed angry tears, she flipped open her laptop.

To: chary974@proton.me

From: fourscars@beltwest.net

Subject: You Did Not Call!

Monday, January 30, 2023, 9:30 p.m.

Jacob,

I was expecting to hear from you. But there was absolutely nothing. I am trying very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, if talking was too much, you could have texted, you could have sent an email.

But nothing. This is very discourteous, and I am angry.

Please contact me by whatever means you can manage, as soon as you can. If I don't hear from you very quickly, this "whatever it is" between us will be OVER.

Remember, I still have that Sharpie pen with the red ink.

I am Thinking of You — 15 — but you would not appreciate the content of my thoughts right now.

Tuesday, January 31, 2023.

To: chary974@proton.me

From: fourscars@beltwest.net

Subject: I am Sorry, Please Write!

Tuesday, January 31, 2023, 9:30 p.m.

Jacob,

I was so angry last night. I have been thinking, since then, that the telephone was a big step for you, and I should not have been so harsh.

But, please, in whatever media you choose, just send me a line or two. I wouldn't want us to end this way. Even one of your little cards in my mailbox would mean a lot to me.

Thinking of You — 14 —

Melanie

Wednesday, February 1, 2023.

To: chary974@proton.me

From: fourscars@beltwest.net

Subject: Please, I am Worried

Wednesday, February 1, 2023, 9:30 p.m.

Jacob,

It's like you have dropped off the edge of the world. It doesn't make sense that, in only the 24 hours after your message on Sunday evening, you have gone completely no contact.

I can't imagine what I might have done to cause our ending like this.

Or, are you in trouble?

I am begging you for anything, any kind of message.

Thinking of You — 13 —

Melanie

Melanie put away the email screen. It was time to dig for information. She went back to the state's Division of Behavioral Sciences web site for everything they had on Virginia Matson-Steeds.

This revealed a practice address of 253 Belmont Way, in a nearby high-income community. Next, Melanie started searching through the property records, and found that the home's title had been recorded to Jacob Katz.

She grabbed her keys and headed down to the lobby. She found the box marked "J. KATZ" and noticed that his box was figuratively bulging with uncollected mail. Now, she had his apartment number, and she went to check it out.

She didn't actually expect to find anything except the usual featureless white door in a boring gray hallway, just like the scene at her own apartment's door.

But there was something to see. A pizza flyer had been mostly pushed under the door, with the edge still visible. The flyers had been distributed through the complex on Monday, Melanie remembered.

If Jacob had used his door on Monday afternoon, on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, he would have picked up the flyer off the floor and thrown it away.

Jacob was MISSING! And I might be the ONLY person who would know, or care, that he might be in trouble.

Chapter 15: Lost and Found.

Thursday, February 2, 2023.

Melanie decided to skip her work day in order to track down Jacob.

Amy went into daycare, and then Melanie began searching. The third hospital she checked had admitted a Jacob Katz, but they wouldn't give her any details over the telephone.

He WAS in trouble! That's why he didn't call: he never got home on Monday evening to pick up the flyer, or to make our telephone call. What happened to him, to put him in the hospital? It's been DAYS!

Shit, that place shows as the "Regional Trauma Center" and that's where the highway patrol sends cases by helicopter airlift.

Selfishly, she thought: this is the closest I've ever gotten to starting a relationship, and now it could be over before it could even get started!

For answers, she jumped into her car and drove hastily to the medical center, parking in the visitors' lot.

He was in a so-called "semi-private" (i.e., not private at all) room. Melanie checked at the nursing station and identified herself as Jacob's cousin, and next-of-kin, so they gave her a summary of his condition and injuries.

Jacob was recovering from two broken ankles, facial injuries, hand and arm injuries, hypovolemic shock (blood loss, they explained), and from exposure.

All consequences of a severe automobile accident.

One thing they needed to tell her. Jacob's facial injuries meant that his jaw was temporarily immobilized. He could not speak.

He had been coached to hold up one finger for "Yes" and two fingers for "No."

As "next-of-kin" they put no time limitations on Melanie's visitation. And, finally, she was told that they expected he would be discharged in three or four days, once they were sure his face was stable enough and his jaw could be freed. His broken ankles would be in plaster casts, and he would need a wheelchair.

Seeing her expression, the supervising nurse told her, "You have to confirm this with the orthopedic surgeon, but I'll bet she will tell you that eventually he's going to come out of this walking normally. But be prepared for at least twelve weeks before Mr. Katz can even try bearing any weight on his ankles. And that schedule might be optimistic; you should be talking with Dr. Winslow to get the best information."

When Melanie walked in to Jacob's room, he was dozing with his eyes closed. She moved carefully and silently into a chair next to his bed.

"Hello Jacob. It's Melanie."

His eyes flew open, and he focused on her immediately. But she could see only part of his heavily-bandaged face. "Do you recognize me, Jacob?"

One finger up. Then he used his fingers to draw letters on his blanket. "HOW?"

"I will tell you later, I promise. But, are you happy to see me?"

One finger up. Then he shook his hand and put up two fingers. What was visible on his face must be misery.

Melanie thought for a minute. "You wanted our meeting to be different."

One finger up.

"You wanted to be looking nice, and able to speak."

One finger firmly up.

"You're afraid this is the end of us."

One finger up, slowly.

Melanie looked crossly at him. Then she stood up. Jacob, thinking she was leaving, was wide-eyed with alarm.

Then she bent over and kissed him, tenderly, on his unbandaged right cheek.

Relieved, emotional, Jacob was teary.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Two fingers up, instantly.

"All right, I will stay for a while. But you need to rest and recover, so you can get out of here as soon as you can. If you had a tablet, an iPad, do you think you could work it so we could communicate better?"

One finger up, enthusiastically.

"Unfortunately, I don't have one of those. I'm sorry. Amy would love to have one, but I can't afford it."

Jacob tapped the blanket, urgently, and spelled out eight letters: VISA CARD.

"No, Jacob, I am maxxed out to my limit. If it weren't for you, I would have only bought one or two tires. And I was not sure that, for two tires, the bank would allow that much money to be charged on my card."

Jacob held up two fingers ("no"), then spelled out: MY VISA.

"Your credit card? You want me to take your card and buy you an iPad with it? Can I do that?"

One finger up.

"They have your wallet here?"

One finger up.

"OK, let me get your card and we will go on from there."

There was a complicated process, and Jacob had to verify with his "YES" finger that Melanie's request was valid. But after about an hour, Melanie had the credit card in her hand. It was black, and heavy, and was marked with "VISA Infinite" and the logo of Pelle Marco, a major bank.

"OK, Jacob, now what?"

He put his thumb by his ear, and his index finger by his mouth, in the universal "telephone" gesture.

"Telephone, who? Oh, obviously, the bank."

Melanie used her cell phone to call the 800 number inscribed in gold on the back of the credit card.

"Concierge Services, may I have your card number please?"

In the following conversation, the bank's agent was extremely polite, but clearly suspicious, since the cardholder's name was male, and Melanie's voice was, obviously, not. Eventually, the agent came to understand what Melanie was asking for.

"Alright, Ms. Geary. I need to end this call while I verify everything and get the necessary approvals at our end. Then I will call back to the hospital and have them connect me to this phone in the room. You will hear from us in about 20 - 30 minutes."

When they called back, Melanie was relieved to hear everything was approved and arranged. The bank was using a courier to pick up a new iPad from the nearest Apple store and deliver it directly and immediately to the hospital. The charges for these extra services were approved by Jacob's upraised finger.

Melanie had taken a break for the bathroom and a little food from the cafeteria, and then she returned to his room. Fortunately, the other patient in the room remained asleep through the entire time she visited.

"Jacob, here's the explanation on how I was able to track you down. On Monday night, I was going crazy. I thought you stood me up, then the next day I stopped being angry and started worrying about you. When I heard nothing through Wednesday evening, I decided to take a day off and start searching for you.

"I found you by using the web. First, I needed to find out about Ginny."

Melanie explained how she was able to identify his former lover as Virginia Matson-Steeds.

"I looked up Ginny's state license records. The state government hadn't gotten around to marking her record as 'deceased' and unavailable. Her license showed me the Belmont address. Then, public records on that property revealed your name. And then I was able to locate you here, to my great relief.

"And, now we are talking, Jacob, sort of. Face-to-face, even! Well, some of your face, the parts not covered by bandages. But the important thing is, we skipped past the telephone stage."

Incredibly, the iPad was in their hands only 90 minutes later. After the iPad was delivered and Melanie completed the necessary setup processes, Jacob started up his email. Reading her last three messages, he got upset all over again. Melanie held his hand for a moment, tenderly.

"Jacob, forget about all that. Tell me about your accident."

For convenience, he started a new email message so he could "speak" to her with the on-screen keyboard.

didn't want 2 meet lk this . i am pathetc . go home to amy . not be botherd about me

"Jacob! I just told you all the stuff I did to track you down. I asked you a question. Don't make me ask you again."

very sorry melanie.

i was drivng, natuerl remote area . car slid . crashd down big big slope . ankls broken + trapd in wreck . airbags not enuf 2 save my face + scalp . v bloody . unconc . no signal 4 phn. stuck long time . very long . thot i was dyin . rescu yestr? dont know 4 sure . i am confusd . so mbrased . sorry sorry sorr