Sorrel's Long Journey to Love Ch. 06

Mary softly sighed. "Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I love flowers. I helped Fletcher's wife plant some of the flowers here and around the house, the hibiscus, the irises, and the lilies, all of them. The late Mrs. Hanson, she also thought it was vary calming here by the pond. Next to the grove this was her favorite place."

"Grove?" Sorrel didn't know anything about a grove.

"You've never seen the grove. We'll have to get Fletcher to show you. It was a place he and his wife would disappear to every now and then. I remember right after she died we couldn't find him. It took Marion, she found him in the grove. Diana's buried in the family section of the town cemetery, but Fletcher built a little memorial for her down there."

Sorrel gazed at the still water of the pond, "Diana. That was her name?"

Mary knelt on the ground beside some of the older flowers, "You would have liked her Sorrel. I know she would have liked you."

Sorrel had a kind of wan look. "Was she nice? I mean was Fletcher's wife good?"

Mary looked away. "Yes, she was very nice, very good." There was a momentary pause as Mary recovered her poise. "Hey!" She said, "We're supposed to go shopping. Come on!"

Sorrel inquired, "Who decided we needed to go shopping?"

Mary answered, "Someone must have shown Fletcher Ms. Henderson's special room she had set up for you. He ordered it emptied; the furniture and all the pink clothing. He also told Byron to get rid of any other pink stuff he found lying around. Fletcher wants us to go to town and go shopping. He isn't satisfied that you have enough to wear."

Sorrel looked back at the pond, "You don't say."

Mary replied, "Oh I do say, and now we better get going. He wants you back for dinner so he can personally drive you crazy."

Sorrel stood up, "Do I look all right to go out?"

Mary gave her a once over. Sorrel was wearing light blue sun-dress. The hem came to just about mid thigh. She had on a pair of sandals, no socks. The girl wasn't wearing any make up. Her hair was in a kind of modified braid, like a ponytail but the way it curled down and under it was like a queue too, "You look terrific. Come on."

Mary and Sorrel drove into town in Sorrel's car since Fletcher had taken his SUV and Mary's car was in the garage for repairs. It was a short drive, and the weather was beautiful.

Mary explained there were a couple inexpensive boutiques where Fletcher's wife used to shop and where Marion still goes. They had a good selection of casual things, and always a few things that were for special occasions. She told Sorrel, "Fletcher said you could get any thing you wanted, but you had to buy at least two dresses for extra special situations."

Sorrel was feeling pretty good. After last evening's conversation and confession she felt like a weight had been lifted from her. Mary believed she was innocent, and she was convinced Fletcher believed it too. But she wished she could prove her innocence rather than have these two just go on intuition and faith. She asked, "Mary. Do you think I'll get a chance to prove my innocence?"

Mary looked over at Sorrel, "Oh. I suppose somewhere along the way it'll all wash out. You heard Fletcher last night"

Sorrel protested, "I want to do it."

Mary looked around as they drove; she pointed to a nearby parking lot, "Sorrel, pull the car over there."

Sorrel slowed, turned into the lot, and parked the car, "OK."

Mary, carefully choosing her words, started, "Sorrel what I'm going to tell you is in the strictest confidence. Promise me you'll keep it a secret."

Mary had Sorrel's undivided attention, "I promise."

Mary began, "Fletcher's wife died just over two years ago. It was a long, slow, painful process. It almost killed him. Sorrel, he's a man. As a man he still thinks he can control events. You heard him last night. What did he do? Once everything came out he was on his feet hurling proclamations like they were stones. He would fix this. He would stop that. He would take care of it. You heard him."

Sorrel answered, "Yes."

Mary went on, "When his wife died it tore through him like a knife. She was everything to him. He ranted and railed against the cancer. He called, hired, and consulted with dozens of doctors, experts and specialists. It didn't matter. No one had an answer. When they ran out of alternatives he hired lawyers and threatened to sue every doctor, every nurse, every internist, and very hospital who wouldn't promise a cure. Of course, no one could promise what he wanted. He turned to religion, to faith healers, to pseudo-scientists of every order. He prayed. He paid. He yelled. He cursed. It didn't matter. She died."

Sorrel listened intently. Every word seemed to pierce like ice, "It must have been horrible for him."

Mary for once losing her patience, lashed out, "Horrible for him! He has three children! What about them? What do you think it did to them? They were losing their mother and their father! In his fear and grief they disappeared. Sorrel, when his wife died, it was as though he died too."

Sorrel spoke softly, more to herself than to Mary, "How terrible."

Mary went on, "It was nearly a year before Fletcher came out of hiding. He'd spend days in their bedroom. He'd disappear for weeks. No one knew where he was. After a year he slowly drifted back, slowly picked up the reins of parenthood, work."

Sorrel murmured, "How horrible for the children."

The older woman responded, "Yes it was horrible. It was horrible for Marion, for Robert, for Richard, and for Fletcher. But he did slowly recover. He never became his old self, but he did drift back."

Sorrel looked at Mary, "And the children?"

Mary answered, "They had lost their mother and it seemed like they'd lost their father, but he did come back. When he came back it was slow, physically first, and then emotionally. As for the children, they were there. They'd never left. They love their father."

Sorrel was thoughtful, "I didn't know. I don't think anyone knew. Everybody at work is afraid of him. He's so ferocious. When I got into the inner circle, about a year ago, he was seen as a kind of ogre, like a Minotaur. You didn't dare talk to him. He might eat you."

Mary went a little further, "You saw him last night. You know the jewelry you're wearing hides transmitters."

Sorrel looked down at the pinkie ring, "You're kidding. That's how he knew about Flail."

Mary revealed a little more, "Something has clicked in Fletcher. A week ago he was just alive. Two weeks ago, when they presented him with the material about you, it was just another betrayal. He didn't care. You were another insect to be crushed. Then the other day, the day of the picnic something happened. He started to care. He saw something, something in you. Maybe it was your helplessness, perhaps his suspicion of your innocence, perhaps some intimation that you were being betrayed. Who knows? I do know this. He's alive again. I mean really alive. Whoever authored your destruction triggered his resurrection, and I think your salvation."

Sorrel looked through the windshield off in the distance, "You're saying the proof of my guilt or innocence is out of my hands. It's as though I'm his wife. He couldn't save her, but through me, he might have another chance. He proves my innocence he proves himself."

Mary gave Sorrel a cool contemplative look, "That part of it, but there's something else. He likes you. I can see it in his face. He doesn't just care about proving that your innocent, he wants to do this because it's you."

Sorrel looked at Mary, "You think he's falling in love with me?"

Mary responded immediately, "Love is a big word. It's only four letters, but it's a long word, a deep word too. He loves his children. He loved his wife. He wants you, but I don't think love is part of the equation, at least not yet, and I want to warn you, don't you fall in love with him. He's a complicated man."

Sorrel grinned, "Don't worry about that."

Mary smiled back. She was worried about that. She was worried about exactly that. She changed the subject, "Let's shop."

Sorrel restarted the car and pulled back on the highway. The two of them spent the rest of the day going from store to store. Sorrel bought a little something everywhere they went. She bought shoes, slacks, dresses, lingerie, skirts, blouses, sweaters, and socks. She even bought a hat, something she'd seldom done before.

Mary joined her. It had been a while since she'd felt like buying anything, and for a while she matched Sorrel item for item. It was fun.

Fletcher Fumes and Makes a Decision:

Fletcher was at odds with himself. He was trying to figure things out. He remembered when he and Diana had gotten married. She was already carrying Marion. He was twenty and she was eighteen. Marion came along while he was still in college. Warner, his older brother, carried everybody's water in those days so he was able to finish school.

Marion popped out when he was twenty-one. Now she was fourteen and he was thirty-five. Diana, if she had lived, would have been thirty four. They had been young and in love, but she died, and things never worked out.

What was the deal with Sorrel? She had an older girl and a younger boy. He'd checked her records, she was twenty-eight. She'd finished her undergraduate work in three years, and whipped through her MBA in a year and a half. It made sense, she checked out well above the Mensa minimum of 140. Hell, her I.Q. was higher than his.

It bothered him. How old was she when she got pregnant the first time? Eight? Nine? Shit this wasn't India. It wasn't South Carolina either. If she had an eleven year old daughter, then that made her what? Sixteen? If that was the case, then certainly her children, especially the girl, must still remember their mother.

He decided to take a look into the Sorrel situation for himself. Leaving a note for Mary and Sorrel telling them he'd be gone for most of the day and not to plan on him for supper. He bought a ticket, flew to Sorrel's home town, where he rented a car to check the situation out. When he got there he was genuinely dismayed.

Sorrel's children were indeed living with their aunt and their father, but the kind of life they had wasn't much. They were living in a tenement, public housing, run down public housing. He knew something was wrong since he'd seen Sorrel's financial records; the anonymous checks she'd been sending. These kids should have been living in an upscale neighborhood, maybe even going to private schools. What he saw was real deprivation. Clearly someone was taking the money Sorrel had been sending and pissing it away.

He watched the kids from a safe distance. He saw Sorrel in the little girl right away. The boy resembled her too. He didn't hang around, but decided when he got back to hire someone to look into the situation more closely. What was going on with these kids? What was their father doing? What was their aunt doing?

As Fletcher flew back he made some decisions. First, Sorrel didn't need to know anything just yet, and second, those kids weren't going to be staying in the squalor he saw them in much longer. Third, they needed to be reunited with their mother, but most of all he needed to talk to Mary. She'd see the picture from a different angle.

Warren and Florence Put Their Heads Together:

Following the embarrassing morning at Fletcher's when Florence had attempted to initiate the first steps of their plan only to be partially thwarted; Florence and Warren had agreed to hold a separate meeting. As they sat together in Warren's big private office they both agreed Fletcher couldn't be trusted to carry out his end of the plan.

Warren leaned back in his big leather office chair, "I'm sorry you were obstructed by my brother the other morning. I hadn't given Fletcher any thought, but I suppose, what with his own children around and his squeamish nature, some second thoughts, some self doubt, might have crept into his perception of our plan."

Florence listened to Warren, but kept her thoughts to herself. In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted to go through with the plan either. She'd checked and rechecked the documentation that condemned the young woman, and it didn't make any sense. Yet someone had been plotting to ruin the company, who else could it have been?

She asked, "Are you going to do it, or do you want me?"

Warren smiled at Florence. She'd always been the loyal employee. There had been a time when he would have married her, but Mildred brought money and influence. The choice was a no brainer. He replied, "I'll set things up at the facility. You and my wife arrange for the woman's delivery to my house." He couldn't bring himself to use the young woman's name. He even didn't like what they had in mind, but he knew it had to be done.

"Is there any great hurry?" asked Florence.

Warren leaned forward, "Let's not keep the party waiting too long, Fletcher's such a pushover, but it will be a delicate procedure. I'll call you about this on your cellular telephone; say within the next two weeks."

Florence was nonplussed, "Two weeks?"

"It's not an easy thing getting a civilian into a secret military facility, the necessary screening, and then the deportation. We want to do this the right way. No foul ups. No trail."

Florence wasn't relieved, "I'll wait for your call."

Warren stood up and started for his office door, "Until then its business as usual."

Florence answered, "Business as usual."

For Florence it wasn't going to be business as usual. She had some thinking to do, some calls to make, and she had to wrest Sorrel away from Fletcher.

Fletcher Gets Home Late:

Tired and worried, Fletcher pulled in the driveway a little after 11:00 p.m. He wondered if Mary was still up; he really wanted to talk to her, and felt like it couldn't wait. Walking in the front door he found both Mary and Sorrel curled up on the sofa and loveseat watching some old movie. Glad to see them awake, he said, "Hi! Sorry I'm so late. It was something that had to be looked into."

Sorrel, half asleep yawned and stretched, "We waited dinner for you as long as we could, but the kids were ravenous." Still yawning she added, "We had Sloppy Joes. Want us to reheat it for you?"

Fletcher walked to the sofa and stood in front of her, "Come here."

Sorrel, still in her sundress and tennis shoes slowly got up.

Before she knew what was happening Fletcher had her wrapped in his arms. He took his right hand and fluffed the several errant locks of hair that had tumbled down around her face away, "That's very thoughtful Sorrel, but I need to talk to Mary right now."

Sorrel was dumbfounded. He was affectionately holding her in his arms; a totally unexpected act, "Is this where I'm supposed to say good night and go to my room?"

Fletcher kept holding her. He had no idea why he'd behaved so rashly, "We'll talk in the morning."

Sorrel broke free, stepped back and said, "OK." Turning to Mary, "Well I guess that does it."

Mary had been watching the whole exchange. Something was weighing heavily on Fletcher; so heavily he'd allowed his innermost emotions to leap forward. It had affected Sorrel, but she couldn't tell exactly how. Sorrel was sure surprised, and she enjoyed it too, at least at first, then she stiffened.

Once Sorrel was out of the room, Mary asked, "So, where have you been, and what's on your mind?"

"I went to see where Sorrel's children were living." He sat on the sofa, "I don't like it Mary."

Mary joined him on the couch, "Tell me about it."

He leaned back and put his arm up on the back of the sofa, "They're definitely her kids. One look and I could tell. The little girl is her spitting image. The boy is hers too. What' so bad is the way they've had to live. I know how much money Sorrel has been sending, and believe me, there's no justification for the squalor. Somebody's taking the money and pissing it away, and I think I know who."

"What are you going to do about it?"

He paused, but only for effect. He'd made up his mind on the way home, "We know the truth; we just can't prove it." He waited another second, then went into what he had planned, "I'm going to reopen the records. Sorrel and I will go through everything together. Mostly I think I'll let her. Two of the others have already talked to me, one being Flail's father, and they don't see the logic in the evidence either. I'm going to get them to start scouting around from the outside. Maybe something will turn up that way."

Mary didn't want to hear about what she already knew he'd planned. She interrupted, "So what about her kids?"

"We're going to get them and bring here."

"What about their father? Won't he have something to say?"

Fletcher blanched, "Not when I'm through. When I'm done he'll be only too anxious to let them go."

Mary didn't like the tone of Fletcher's voice, "What are you planning?"

He gave her a dumb look, "I don't know yet. What do you think?"

Mary didn't hesitate, "Money, money first. Then find him something to do; a half way decent job, and get his sister out of the picture. Buy her off too."

Fletcher answered, "I thought about all that. My only concern is bow Sorrel might handle it. We both know she's afraid to face them. I mean her kids."

Mary was quick again, "She's got to do it. She won't ever get straightened out till she faces what she's done. Sure it'll be tough, but I have a hunch she won't have to face them alone."

"No, we'll be there for her."

Mary stopped him, "Not we, you."

"You won't help?"

Mary put her hand on Fletcher's arm, "Of course I'll be nearby, but this is your call."

Fletcher pulled Mary in his arms, and stuffed his face on her shoulder, "I miss her so. I still miss her. It's been two years, and I still can't get to sleep at night without her on my mind."

Mary held her closest friend tightly, "I know, I know, but the woman upstairs is someone else entirely. She can't replace what you and Diana had, and she shouldn't. She shouldn't and she won't, but you're helping her will do you both a lot of good."

She pushed Fletcher away, "She doesn't feel about you the way you think she does. She doesn't trust men, and she may never. But you can make her life better. You can help her."

Fletcher hugged her again, but more in a fraternal way, "You're right Mary. We'll get her name cleared, get her kids back for her, help her reconcile with them, and then let her fly."

Mary let Fletcher hold her, "That's my Fletcher."

Around the corner on the stairway sat Sorrel. She knew they'd be talking about her. She'd eavesdropped. She wished she hadn't. She slipped up the steps silently. She had a lot on her mind.

An invitation comes from Gwyneth:

Several days after the incident with Flail Fletcher got a second call from someone interested in Sorrel. Gwyneth Coburn, Charles wife, called asking after Sorrel. Gwyneth and her sister Hannah were interested in having Sorrel over for dinner. Charles was going to be out of town, and the two women thought it would be a good opportunity to meet Sorrel and get better acquainted.

Fletcher, of course, knew the real reason behind their interest in Sorrel, both of these women were sexually attracted to other women, they probably thought Sorrel would be a good companion. If not that, then their natural curiosity had been tweaked, and they wanted to dig up as much about what might be happening to Sorrel as they could.

Either way, to Fletcher, it looked like this was the kind of offer that just couldn't be refused. Putting the women off was just the kind of thing that might arouse suspicion about how Sorrel really was being treated. After all, her residency at Fletcher's was supposed to be a kind of purgatory before the final axe fell. If he and his cohorts, meaning Mary mostly, were trying to keep Sorrel to themselves it might be construed as an attempt to protect her, and that suspicion, even though it was true, could never be given any foundation.