24 Hour Lockdown Page 9

  Marc frowns as he takes a seat. He’s on one side of George and Joseph is on the other. I think that arrangement is wise.

  George leans forward in his seat and looks around at us. “So, what’s this all about?”

  “We should probably wait for Melody,” I answer.

  Just as I finish my sentence, Melody walks over. She’s carrying plates, but I can’t tell what’s on them.

  Melody beams when she sees us. “Good morning! I thought we could use some breakfast. Who’s hungry?”

  Amelia scrambles down from my lap and jumps up and down. “I am! I am!”

  While Melody is handing Amelia a plate, George sits up and sniffs the air. “Is that…coffee?” I can’t help but notice Marc shares the same enthusiasm.

  George

  I’m finally seeing a faint light at the end of this dark tunnel. I noticed the heavenly aroma earlier, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

  I take a sip of the treasured beverage and sigh. “With this, I could last a few more hours locked in here.”

  Melody, the blessed bearer of coffee, sadly shakes her head. “We mustn’t be greedy. In fact, I strongly believe we should pay to replace the food we’ve eaten.”

  On my left, Marc takes a greedy gulp of his coffee and then says, “Who cares? I’ll pay for it if it means we get more.”

  Everyone stops what they are doing and stares in shock at the suit. The only one who is unaffected is Amelia, who shoves another pancake in her mouth.

  Melody squeals with delight. “It’s a miracle!”

  Joseph’s expression is one I can’t quite read. Slowly, he asks Marc, “Did those words just come out of your mouth?”

  Marc frowns and looks around at us. “Is it a crime that I enjoy my coffee?”

  Susan quietly responses, “You offered to pay for something.”

  Marc scoffs and takes a bite of pancake. “So, what? I can afford it, can’t I? What’s the big deal?”

  I can’t help let out a snicker “But you’re a tight fisted old scrooge.”

  Marc glares at me. “Marc Amos is no scrooge. And as for this conversation that has gone on long enough, my paying to replace the food isn’t personal. It’s strictly business.”

  No one else comments and the topic drops. Instead, we all gobble down our breakfast. Cheap freezer pancakes never tasted so good.

  Marc

  Imagine them thinking I’m a scrooge. Believe me, no mystical beings would show up and lead me down the path of charity and good will. They better not try to, anyway.

  I am sad to admit that the ways of these savages are rubbing off on me. I’m eating pancakes with my fingers. If I had been told yesterday that I’d be eating without proper utensils, I would have sued them.

  Next to me, George hits his fist against his chest and lets out a disgusting belch. Amelia finds this hilarious, to which George continues to let out a string of unnecessary burps. Amelia eggs on the act by clapping.

  I pick up my chair and move it further away. My pancakes have lost their appeal and I set the plate on the floor and take sips of my coffee.

  Susan sets her empty plate on the floor as well. “Since we are all here, I think it’s time to get started.”

  Get started with what? I wonder. What could these clowns possibly have on their minds now? Out of boredom, I check the time on my phone, 7:46. I do some quick math in my head and realize we have been here for over twelve hours!

  I have important things to do. People to meet, places to go, and money to make. I’ve lost an entire twelve hours. That’s seven hundred and twenty minutes! That’s time I can never get back. Wasted time.

  “Marc? Are you listening?”

  “Hmm?” I look over at Susan. She’s waiting for me to say something. Actually, everyone is waiting for me to reply.

  “Care to repeat that?” I ask causally.

  Joseph grumbles, “Roadkill has a longer attention span than he does!”

  I shoot him a hard look. “How dare you compare me to roadkill!”

  Joseph smirks hatefully. “I wasn’t comparing, bucko. You’re worse than roadkill.”

  That does it! I’m so sick of the lack of respect I get around here. I jump up from my seat, ready to give him what for, when George pushes me back in my seat. His look is cold and stern. “You have some questions to answer.”

  Joseph

  Susan shakes her head at me. The look of disappointment is clear on her face. Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have picked on him like that. But it’s part of who I am. Just be glad I didn’t punch him. Even with these ropes I could manage it.

  Melody smiles and nods in my direction, encouraging me to continue.

  “As I was saying, I’ve decided to talk. But I want Marc to answer my questions first.”

  Marc tilts his head curiously but remains silent. I take it as a good sign and begin.

  “Does the name Floy Carter mean anything to you?”

  Marc rubs his face thoughtfully. Then he stares at the ceiling. My patience is already thin with this guy.

  “Floy Carter…” he says quietly to himself. He looks at me and shakes his head. “No, never heard of her.”

  I can almost feel my blood boiling. Through gritted teeth I reply, “Think harder. She was a victim of yours.”

  I knew that last part would grab his attention. He goes back to thinking and repeating her name quietly to himself. I’m about to move on, when his expression lights up in recognition.

  “Floy Carter. She was a client. Usually I don’t bother with such minor account holders, but I remember her making an appointment to see me specifically about her loan. Sweet lady, but she couldn’t make a payment to save her life.”

  Marc is lucky George is between us. “She was my mother. And those payments were the death of her!”

  Marc starts to say something but I cut him off. “You took her home and she was forced to live on the streets!”

  I look to the rest of the circle for encouragement. “You remember the bad winter we had last year? My mom was out in that. She caught pneumonia and died in February. I had to identify the body.”

  Marc raises a finger and asks, “Wait a minute. If you were so concerned about your mom, why didn’t you take her in?”

  “If I had known I would have in a heartbeat! She never told me it what was going on! She never owned a cell phone in her life, and when I visited and asked why her landline wasn’t working, she told me she was behind on a payment and it wasn’t a big deal.” I take a breath and hold my head in my hands.

  “I should have known then. That was a couple weeks before she was kicked out. The next time I went over, she was gone and there was a for sale sign in the yard. I searched and searched for her. I made so many phone calls and asked around, but no one knew where she was.”

  Melody softly clears her throat. “I meet her last January. At that time, she was living over in Jacksonville, a few towns away from here. Don’t feel bad, Joseph. I offered to take her to my apartment, but she politely refused.”

  Melody

  Joseph just stares at me like he’s trying to understand what I’m saying. Floy was sweet, like Marc said, but she had a lot of stubbornness in her. I wouldn’t call it pride, just plain stubbornness. It breaks my heart to know she passed away, but she’s finally at rest.

  “Joseph? When I met your mom, she was doing okay. She told me she was staying in homeless shelters and getting enough to eat. She did have bad cough though.”

  Joseph starts to say something but stops. Finally, he says, “Tell me what happened. How did you met her?”

  I swallow hard. I hadn’t expected this to get turned around to me. Do I really want to share the darkest part of my life with everyone? I’ve kept it to myself for months. I was always too ashamed to join groups where people talk about problems similar to mine. I almost smile. Isn’t this just what our little group is doing? Since the start we’ve shared one problem after another.

  “I was complementing suicide. Jumping off the
big bridge in Jacksonville.” I pause as Susan lets out a gasp of surprise.

  “Not long before that, I had a year of chemo. I refused to take any more after that…” The stares boring down on my wig are so strong that I decide to just let them see.

  I pull the wig off and pause while they react. Susan already knew, but Amelia comes over to touch my wig and I let her. Marc’s eyebrows are raised and George leans in and waits for me to say more. Joseph listens numbly.

  “Anyway, losing my hair was devastating. I’m thankful I was already on my own. I could never have faced my mom…”

  Susan cuts in, “Your mom doesn’t even know?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “But…do you ever intend to tell her?”

  I let out a sigh. This is why I didn’t want to talk about my story. “No. I haven’t seen her in over two years. We don’t keep in touch.”

  Joseph scowls at me and I almost recoil from such a hateful stare. In a bitter tone, he says, “Your mom is alive and you haven’t talked to her in two years?”

  I know it sounds bad after all that Joseph shared. I wince and rub my forehead. “It’s complicated,” I say weakly.

  Joseph cuts me off, “Don’t even bother trying to explain that. I don’t want to hear it.”

  I suddenly feel as if I’ve been slapped. I replace my wig, feeling a little more protected, and finish my side of the story.

  “I battled depression. It took me as far as to the bridge and intended to leave me there. If it hadn’t been for a small voice calling out to me over the sound of the wind and waves below, I would have jumped. Floy was the first person I ever really talked to about my leukemia. She made me feel like I was a human, and not some walking disease.

  “It was there, that she told me about Jesus and how much He loves me. I accepted him into my heart and my life has been different ever since. I’m still on medication for my depression, but things are getting better.”

  Joseph rolls his eyes. “You fell for that same religion she tried to pawn off on me and Nick?”

  My pulse quickens and I meet his stare. “It’s not a religion. It’s a relationship.”

  He shifts in his seat. “Whatever. So, tell me. How can a God who claims to love everyone, let bad things happen? Does he enjoy seeing homeless people dying on the streets? Cancer patients being miserable? Battered wives living a nightmare?”

  Chapter seventeen

  Susan

  I’m not sure how I wound up in this deep and conflicted conversation, but I don’t like it. Joseph had no right to include me. I’m about to tell him so, when Melody answers.

  “No. God doesn’t like any of those things. He’s aware of our tears and cries. But have you considered the fact that if Floy hadn’t been homeless, I would be dead right now? It was in God’s master plan that He orchestrated. And if this lockdown hadn’t happened, Marc would most likely be dead by now.”

  I glance at Marc and see that the color drained from his face. I guess he had never thought of it that way, I know I hadn’t. It is a scary thought and yet interesting to wonder how certain events can build on top of each other and set off a chain reaction.

  Joseph holds up his hands. “For the record, I never intended to kill him in the first place. It was because of the lockdown, that things went wrong.”

  Melody shakes her head quickly. “It was because of the lockdown that we are here now and talking things out. Do you really think if you had had your way and pulled off your plan, you would have honestly been satisfied?”

  Joseph starts to say yes, but he stops. I guess he just answered her question.

  Melody offers a faint smile. “We can never know God’s plan. It’s vast, unpredictable, and his thoughts are higher than ours. Bad things can happen for several reasons. Whether to help us grow and draw us closer to Him, or for us to help others, or to humble us. Sometimes we bring bad things on ourselves. No one can see the big picture, we just have to trust.”

  Everyone is silent. Amelia looks up at me and gives a tired smile before she leans her head against my chest.

  Marc breaks the silence. “So… what were you going to do to me?”

  Joseph looks up and frowns. “I was going to hold you up in the parking lot, knock you unconscious, and then drop you off in the Appalachian Mountains.”

  George

  Wow! What an interesting plot! Think of the journey of rediscovery Marc could have taken. I seriously doubt he would have made it home in one piece, but he may have found that his life back home was overrated and decided to live in the wilderness.

  I scrunch up my nose. Sounds like something Melody would enjoy reading. Which means I would probably hate it. I blame those annoying kiddy books I was reading with Amelia. No plot line, no character development, no awaited climax.

  Marc looks disturbed with what Joseph said. If you ask me, it could be worse. Marc’s a hard guy to tolerate. I say he got off easy.

  More awkward silence hovers over the group. There’s one important thing that hasn’t been said yet.

  “Joseph. Is the air cleared between you and Marc? What I mean is, are you going to try to kill him again?”

  Joseph looks down at the carpet. “I still hate his guts.”

  “But how do you feel now that you got all that off your chest?”

  Joseph shrugs. “A little better I guess. I didn’t know talking about it could help. I’m still not sure what to think. Should I be glad that mom lost her house and ultimately her life if it meant Melody is still alive? Isn’t that like choosing Melody over my own mom?”

  Those are great questions! So great, that I have no idea how to even begin to answer them. I glance at Melody, hoping she’ll have an answer.

  I’m surprised when Marc speaks up. “Can I say something?” His overly superior attitude has faded slightly.

  Joseph shrugs. “You’re going to anyway, but at least you asked first.”

  Marc

  I take a deep breath and collect my thoughts. I can’t believe I’m actually about to even consider apologizing. It’s not in my nature.

  I face Joseph and nervously twiddle my fingers. “I want you to understand how hard this is for me. I admit I have never been called out like this before and I’m not sure how to take it.”

  Joseph raises his eyebrows and I do my best to swallow my pride. “I suppose, in a round about way, I did have a minor part in Mrs. Carter’s passing. I…I haven’t always been very generous with clients.” Now that I think about it, one could say I’ve been sort of, callous with them.

  I pause and look over at Melody. “Money is my god. I’ve never known anything else that gives me joy and a deep sense of security. I don’t think I’ll ever stop coveting the almighty dollar. It’s too powerful.” Melody seems slightly disappointed but she doesn’t interrupt me.

  I lean forward in my seat and look past George to face Joseph again, “I guess what it all comes down to is that…I…I’m s-sorry about your mom. I honestly had no idea.”

  The expression on Joseph’s face is one of pure shock. George’s mouth is slack and agape in utter awe and amazement.

  I feel somewhat better, but not much. I make a mental note to never apologize again. It just takes too much out of me and now I feel like drained.

  No one is saying anything and it’s really making me uncomfortable. The silence is deafening. Someone needs to say something or make a noise. I can’t stand the suspense.

  Joseph

  I’m utterly speechless. What do you say to a guy who just apologized and it nearly killed him to do it? More importantly, how do you forgive the same guy who killed your mom? Granted, he didn’t physically kill her, but because of his greed and serious lack of compassion, she’s gone. It makes me wonder if the same thing is happening to someone else right now.

  A battle is raging in my mind. Forgive him? Keep the grudge? Honestly, I never thought I would hear him apologize about it. I had always just assumed I’d have my revenge and be done with him.

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nbsp; The silence is making Marc jittery. His eyes keep darting nervously around the room and his leg is bouncing like crazy.

  A hardened part of me wants to stay silent and keep plotting my revenge. But deep down I know that’s wrong. Melody is watching me patiently and I can’t help but remember when she forgave me for what I did. She made it seem so simple. Is it that easy to forgive someone?

  I’ve heard stories before of a victim’s family forgiving the murderer. How do they do that? What if forgiving is the same as forgetting? I doubt that I’d ever forget mom, or what happened to her. Maybe forgiving is the first step to healing. I’d like to heal.

  My mouth is dry and my words come out feeling heavy and thick. “I…I forgive you, Marc.”

  Melody

  I can hardly contain my excitement! This moment is one that Marc and Joseph will never forget. Real progress was made just a moment ago.

  Marc has a thoughtful look on his face as he says, “No one has ever forgiven me before. Then again, I’ve never said I was sorry to anyone.”

  I expect someone to throw in a snarky comment. It warms my heart when no one does. I really believe we are finally growing closer and becoming friends.

  “How does it feel?” I ask Marc eagerly.

  He looks over at me. “To apologize? Awful. To be forgiven?” He pauses as if trying to find the right word. “Liberating.”

  I grin. “I couldn’t have defined it better than that. But you can’t experience forgiveness without asking for it first.”

  Marc nods thoughtfully then says, “Speaking of liberating, I think Joseph should have the use of hands and feet back.”

  Joseph lifts his head and he stares at him in wonder. I don’t think any of us saw that coming.

  George casts wary glances between the two men. To Marc he asks, “You’re sure?”