*Author's Note at the bottom*
Early Edition:
(A Lindsay Romick Story)
It had been one week. one week of exhaustion. That paper, that cat. What did it all mean. It had come too soon for her too take in fully. The divorce, now this....what ever it was.
Lindsay Romick reluctantly slid out a bed. Sure enough, the alarm clock read 6:30. She could see she would not need an alarm clock anymore. Maybe this would be the last day....maybe it wouldn't. It was too much to take in this early.
Lindsay reluctantly opened the door, and a familiar orange cat tip-toed through the door.
I suppose I am going to have to feed you every day too she said as the cat made its way to the kitchen. Lindsay bent down and picked up the paper. Sure enough it read September 12, 2028, tomorrows date. She sighed a noise of exhaustion that quickly became a started gasp. As she lifted the paper and stood upright, she was face with a unfamiliar woman.
The woman must of been near sixty. She had a rather olive complection. Her hair, once dark brown was now half gray, was pulled back into a loose bun. She was dressed in a conservative black suit. Her face was solemn, but not angry.
This is for you. she said handing Lindsay a plain white envelope with her name on it.
She could tell Lindsay was perplexed, but only said, Pay attention what it says. We are here if you need help, and turned and walked down the corridor to the elevator at the end of the hallway. In an instant the elevator opened, closed, and the mystery woman was gone.
Lindsay's first reaction was to mutter that the Blackstone Hotel needed better security. Then she quickly shut the door and ripped open the note, expecting to find some sort of religious tract. Instead, it was a newspaper clipping of a Chicago Sun Times article, with the headline Local Hero Dies Saving 12 Children in Apartment Blaze. Who is Gary Hobson, she wondered outloud. A picture on the article explained one thing; the woman at the door was Mrs. Hobson. Her picture, along with her husband and three children, was on the page. Mrs. Antonia Braggati-Hobson. Mentioned in the picture caption were Mr. and Mrs. Hobson's children, Dr. Charlotte Fishman of California, Police Detective Zeke Hobson of Chicago, and Fr. Garrison Hobson of Chicago. While sad and noble, Lindsay could not make out what this had to do with her, but there was a note along with the article. She opened it. It read simply LIVE YOUR LIFE. It was signed and dated by Gary Hobson.
Still a little confused, Lindsay studied the two scraps of paper, until it hit her. The dates! They both were one week ago. The day she started receiving the paper.
She stood in shock until the cat meowed. She turned around to find a book on her coffee table. Lost Chicago, the title read. What did it all mean? This Gary Hobson obviously had something to do with the paper, but what?
I bet you have all of the answers Lindsay said to the paper's feline delivery boy. She was answered only with a indecipherable meow.
Lindsay Romick was still a bit disheveled as she made her way up the stone steps to the entrance of St. Michael's Church. She smoothed her hair down with her hands. She had just saved a little boy from being caught under the wheels of a cement truck. One rescue in a long week of rescues and near misses. Lindsay hid the paper under her mud smudged coat, the result of muddy streets and her own near miss with the cement truck. For a second she almost turned away.
What am I doing here? Lindsay thought to herself.
She was muddy and had another rescue in an hour. But, she knew exactly why she had walked the two blocks from the cement truck and and the rescued six year old. This was the church of Fr. Garrison Hobson. After helping little Tim Wilkerson on his merry way, she had realized how close she was to St. Michael's Church. She realized how close she was to getting some answers.
It had been a week since Mrs. Hobson had left the article and the note. Lindsay had found out little about Gary Hobson. She had been so busy. She guessed that he must of been getting the paper before she did. How did he handle it? Lindsay had been missing enough work. She was a nurse at a large Chicago Nursing Home.
She had just taken a week off to deal with the reality of her divorce. A divorce she never saw coming. Her husband ran off with another woman. Lindsay never suspected Adam's affair. She thought their marriage was in good shape. They had talked of children. One day she returned from work to find a letter that began, I do not love you anymore...
She had been married for six years to Dr. Adam Taylor. She had met him through the nursing home, but he had since built a sizable private practice. He was accomplished, charming, and ruthless. Lindsay had become quite aware of Adam's ruthlessness during the divorce. Her fine house, that she and Adam had built together, was being sold. The money from the sale would allow for Adam and his girlfriend, Kari, to buy a condo in Florida. Lindsay was virtually broke her husband's lawyers had seen to that, and missing more days of work to run around Chicago with the paper's business was not helping her financial situation.
But, what else was she going to do? People needed her. The paper needed her. So here she was, two weeks after its arrival, helping who she could and looking for information.
Now, the mystery of Gary Hobson was not her only problem. It had also been a week since the book, Lost Chicago, showed up in her hotel room at the Blackstone. She looked and looked at the book, until she saw the cat. If it had not been enough for her to find out about Gary Hobson, she now had another mystery name, Lucius Snow.
Lindsay made her way into the sanctuary. Her eyes looked for the priest. Her heart began beating quickly as the young priest began walking towards her.
...............Garrison................
Lindsay was at a loss to explain why finding out more about the paper scared her, but she was terrified. Her heart picked up its pace as a young priest approached her. In fact, the priest seemed very young. The thought of confessing to a man that looked like an 16 year old boy seemed less than appealing. In the middle of her current state of fear, Lindsay was tempted to laugh outloud. Well, that was one thing Lindsay did not have to worry about, she was not Catholic, and she came for information, not to confess it.
Young looking, or not, Father Garrison Hobson had kind eyes. His eyes were a hazel color, with a golden twinkle. Lindsay could see this clearly as the priest covered the distance between them. His hair was dark brown. Lindsay had no idea how much Garrison resembled his father. She had no idea she was looking at virtual copy of a young Gary Hobson. When he finally came to stand before Lindsay, his brow joined his lips in a glowing smile. This smile seemed to have a strange calming effect.
Maybe it would be easy to confess to this priest, Lindsay thought to herself.
My name is Father Garrison Hobson, is there any way I could help you? Garrison asked with one of the mellowest voices Lindsay had ever heard. The voice proved to be a perfect match for the eyes, kind.
My name is Lindsay Romick and I was hoping... Lindsay began , but stopped. She saw something in Garrison's countenance she had not expected....recognition. He knew her name! Did he know about the paper, too? Then again, why wouldn't he know about her, surely his mother had told Garrison of her visit. Lindsay became uneasy again.
The smile continued, and became more welcoming. I am so happy to finally meet you. I have heard about you for so long. I am glad you have come for help. Garrison put his hand on her shoulder and lead her to an office off the sanctuary.
Help? ...and what do you mean you have heard about me for a long time, Lindsay responded quizzically. She was now more confused then ever.
Garrison showed her a seat in front of a large desk. Instead of sitting down behind the desk, Garrison, sat down in another chair next to her.
Before I answer, what must be a half million questions,... how is the cat? He was always my cat, sort of, when I was growing up Garrison's face became all the more boyish as he asked about the cat. Garrison's comments did answer one question: If the cat came with the paper, and Garrison had known that cat during his childhood, Gary Hobson was the paper's former recipient. Over the years the cat had also become a pet...at least to Garrison, he became a pet.
He is fine, I guess. He arrives at my door every day at 6:30, Lindsay said cautiously. She still was determined to get, rather than give, information.
He still arrives at 6:30, does he? My father never slept in one day that I can ever remember. He would get up at 6:30, run out of the house, while I spent the day playing with that orange cat. I know my father never thought kindly of those early morning wake up calls, nor did he particularly like the feline that brought them, Garrison said with a laugh.
Lindsay could no longer wait to ask. She must have what she now believed confirmed. She had to know.
Did your father get the paper,... the special paper, she blurted out. Special paper? It sounded goofy saying it. Why could she not just say it...tomorrows paper!
It was as if Garrison could hear her thoughts, when he smiled and responded, You mean did he get a paper that gave him tomorrow's news today. Yes, he got the paper that told the future...just like the one you are getting Lindsay.
Lindsay felt a strange emotional numbness, mixed with a good measure of surrealism, as she finally learned that she was not the first recipient of the paper. The paper was now more than a single miraculous event, it was now a...a...phenomenon!
Garrison went on to explain that his father had received the paper for at least 30 years. It arrived with the cat, every morning at 6:30. Like Lindsay, Gary too, had searched for its origins.
Did he ever find out where it came from...and who, Lindsay asked, feeling a little flustered.
No, but we all have our theories. I am a little partial to one theory, Garrison said as his eyes moved to look at the cross on the wall. It was clear Garrison believed God had sent the paper. Garrison suddenly sat up strait in his chair. You know I am not the best person to ask about the paper. I rather entered this story somewhere in the middle. Does the paper have anything for you to do tonight?
Lindsay took the paper out of its hiding place under her coat. She began to leaf through its contents. Garrison could not help but smile. He had never seen his father without that paper sticking out of his coat or his back pocket. Lindsay did not notice that Garrison's eyes became moist with the memories of his father. Garrison perked up a bit before Lindsay looked up from the paper.
Well, I have a mugging this evening at about 5 o'clock, but then I guess I am free...but...you know that things can pop up in this thing with out warning, Lindsay, for the first time, really smiled. It was a relief to have someone to talk to who understood the paper .
Garrison was concerned, ..a mugging. That could be dangerous... Garrison reached for the phone on the office desk, ...maybe I had better call Zeke. Lindsay motioned for Garrison to stop.
If you are referring to your brother, the cop, I do not think he will be needed. I mean this will be the forth mugging that I have had since I started getting the paper. I think I can handle it. Lindsay gave Garrison a reassuring smile, one that Garrison answered back with his own.
Alright...but here, Garrison said as he wrote a phone number on the back of a church business card. He then handed her the card On the front is my number, here, and my house. On the back is Zeke at the Police Department and his cell phone. If you run into trouble, use it. Lindsay could tell that he was concerned, and emphatic, about helping. She agreed to call if she had problems. It was relief to have someone to which she could turn.
After your mugging appointment, Garrison said with a grin you are to come back to St. Michael's. You and I will then go over to my mother's and feast with the family. Aunt Marissa and Uncle Chuck will be there. They can tell you the beginning of my father's story with the paper.
Are you sure I will not be intruding, Lindsay asked.
Are you kidding? It was clear to Garrison that he had done a poor job of explaining to Lindsay how important she was to his family. His mother's only distraction was carrying out his father's wishes for them to come together as a support team for Lindsay. Gary Hobson knew all along that someday he would stop receiving the paper, probably in death, and Lindsay Romick would need help. Gary would not leave that poor kid to figure it all out on her own. The paper, was way too much for anyone to figure out on his or her own. My father wanted you to be a part of our family. He was lucky he had my Aunt Marissa and Uncle Chuck...well mostly Aunt Marissa and then my mom. I think right now we all sort of need each other.
Lindsay could see he was thinking of his father. She felt like such a buffoon. All this time she had come demanding answers, she had forgotten that Gary Hobson was a real person. Yes, he had received the paper, but he had also lived a life. He became a husband and father. He had also recently died. With all of her questions she had forgotten that his family was grieving. Garrison seemed intent on her going to his house for dinner. Lindsay, hoping to have more questions answered, could not refuse the young priest.
If you believe I could possibly be a help to your family...I'll go. Lindsay stood up to leave. She could see that Garrison was pleased. I will meet you here at 6 o'clock, if that will work for your family?
That will be perfect! Garrison stood up happily (with a bright twinkle in his eyes), and then showed her to the office door.
Lindsay remembered a question she had asked, and had yet to receive an answer.
Garrison corrected.
Garrison, you never answered my question. How could you have heard about me for years? I have never met anyone in your family.
But you have, Lindsay. When you go home, see if you have an old pocket knife with your initials on it. If you cannot remember by then...I will help you figure it all out when you come to the church tonight. With that indecipherable reply Garrison turned back into the office, and Lindsay was left to wrack her brain for one particular memory.
Lindsay Romick left Garrison, wondering what answers she could find in a pocket knife. A pocket knife with her initials on it. Lindsay turned it over in her mind. The best chance to find such a memento, of her distant past, were the boxes she kept in storage. So, she arrived at the Blackstone, only to direct her feet to the basement.
She tore through the boxes until she found the right one. In one, filled with junk from a desk drawer, was the little red initialed pocket knife key chain. This simple object tied her and Gary's life together.
She sat ten full minutes before the memories hit her. She began to shake with shock from the ultimate realization...her Grandpa, the courthouse ,the cemetery..a twinkle that resembled the one in Garrison's eyes! My gosh, she thought, Garrison even looks like him!
She remembered! She remembered the man who saved her life. The man who brought her comfort at her Grandfather's funeral. She remembered Gary Hobson!
Was the paper part of a plan? Was Gary chosen? Was she chosen?
It looked to Lindsay that someone, or something, decided a long time ago who should receive the paper.
Lindsay had long ago seen her grandfather's death as a turning point in her life. It was a moment where she had ceased to think child like thoughts, and had instead become more introspective. She began thinking more about her future, life, death, all those abstract thoughts everyone begins to think when they grow up.
She had decided she wanted to help people. Grandfather had kidded her a lot about becoming a cop or a lawyer. Okay, she had chased a purse snatcher now and then, and she could sure speak in She remembered having voiced one too many objections to her parents, and had found herself overruled (grounded for two weeks). No, law seemed to cold, she wanted to make people better.
Money was an issue when it came time to choose a college major, so Lindsay chose nursing, rather then go on to become a doctor. Lindsay worked hard, graduated top of her class, and went on to work at the nursing home.
Working with senior citizens seemed to come naturally. Maybe it was because she was so close to her grandfather, or the older people who frequented the courthouse. She found herself enormously satisfied with her profession. She could get to know patients on an individual basis. She loved her job, and where she worked. She genuinely liked helping people.
Lindsay looked down at "the paper."
Well I am definitely helping people now...even if pulling them out of the path of a semi wasn't what I had originally had in mind, Lindsay thought to herself.
She could not help but be amazed. That day in the cemetery had been a major turning point. Now, more than ever, Lindsay knew that to be true.
Lindsay then remembered the time. Looking at her watch, she then scooped up the pocket knife key chain and made her way upstairs to her room. She had to get changed. Preferably into something less mud encrusted. She also had a mugging to prevent.
The paper had said that a Dawn Horton, age 77, 234 West 3rd Street, was going to be mugged downtown. Before Lindsay grabbed a change of clothes, she grabbed a phone book. Quickly scanning the pages, she picked up the phone and dialed.
Nelson Midtown cabs, Lindsay spoke into the phone, yes, I would like a cab to pick up a Mrs. Dawn Horton at...what.....yes, I will be paying.
Helping people was going to be expensive.
Later, Lindsay again found herself outside of St. Michael's Church. Garrison made his way down the steps of the front entrance. He could see by her face, that she remembered his dad.
I remember.
Garrison smiled, in that way that was already becoming familiar to Lindsay. He knew she would remember.
He drove her to his mother's house. On the way, the car was filled with memories of his father. She told him of her memories of Gary; the courthouse, her grandfather's chambers, the cemetery. Garrison joined in with a few special memories of his own. One day held a special importance for Garrison....
...My sister threw a fit. She and Zeke were about thirteen. I was probably nine. You see my father missed a lot of those childhood moments. I mean, he had to. Do not get me wrong, my father fought against that paper sometimes to be with us, but saving a life came first. We understand that now, Charlotte, Zeke, and I, but when you are thirteen your Dad missing your championship soccer game is a little tough to handle. Well my sister didn't handle it. She became unreasonable. My mother would have none of it. You see we had no idea about the paper at that time. My father and mother had kept it from us for all of those years. My father's running around seemed normal, especially when that is all you know. Well my mother had completely had it with my sister. She could understand Charlotte being upset, but not Charlotte's berating my Dad. So when my father arrived home, soaking wet from rescuing a man from Lake Michigan, he was not only faced with a red faced daughter, but also with my very determined mother. She had us lined up, sitting on the sofa. We couldn't talk, cry, or complain. We were going to sit there and find out what a wonderful hero we had for a father...whether we liked it or not, Garrison laughed at the memory, You have to know my mother....always the cop.
Garrison went on to explain how his father awkwardly told them of his amazing job. How they all thought it was a joke, until their mother's firm countenance told them that what they were hearing was in fact true. The three were then sworn to secrecy.
So you never told? Lindsay asked, finding it quite remarkable that young children could keep such a secret.
Garrison laughed again, Are you kidding? We all told. Mom and Dad had to do some creative explaining to my school counselor, that is for sure. For the most part, no one ever believed us. I mean, would you believe a couple of thirteen year-olds, and a nine year-old who told you their dad could tell the future? After a while of having your school yard buddies tell you that your a lying nutbar, the novelty sort of wears off.
Before Lindsay could respond they pulled into the driveway of a older white house. Lindsay had been interested in architecture for a while in college (actually an architect major named Jason), and she thought this style of the Hobson house was called American Four Square.
Four other cars were parked in the driveway and street.
Come on, Garrison said. They made their way to the front door. It was painted forest green and on it was hanging a large dried floral wreath. In a moment, Lindsay was face to face with the mystery woman who had started this great search. Of course, who she was was no longer a mystery. Lindsay knew she was looking at Mrs. Toni Hobson.
Lindsay was met with a warm smile and a whiff of spices. Before Toni could greet Lindsay, a loud crash came from the back of the house. With the noise came Lindsay's first good glimpse of Gary's beloved
With a roll of her eyes, but without turning her head, Toni yelled back in true style, So help me Fishman, if you destroy my kitchen I will go upstairs, get my gun, and shoot you! Then without skipping a beat her radiant smile returned, I am so glad you are here Lindsay. Please come in. Toni held the door as Garrison and Lindsay entered the Hobson threshold.
Garrison kissed his mother's cheek. Lindsay was touched by the gesture. This family seemed to be everything she had hoped to have with Adam. But alas, some things were not meant to be.
Garrison took Lindsay's coat. He led her to a comfortable looking living room.
Just then, a tall man in his late twenties came into the room. He was rather lanky, as well as slightly balding, but his face held a wide, jovial grin.
Hi, I am Phil Fishman. Tonight's chef is my Dad, he said merrily clasping her hand in a hearty handshake, He is making an authentic Fishman family chili recipe.
Phil noticed a brief perplexed look on Lindsay's face. The name Fishman did not seem to fit with a south of the boarder locale. Believe it are not we Fishmans are everywhere. Even South America... Then he quickly added before she could comment. Don't ask!
You may not know my Dad yet, but when you do you will be comforted to know that both I and Garrison's sister are physicians. With that comment that he gave a wink.
Well, we tried to help him, but he shooed us out of the kitchen. The master' is at work said a laughing, pretty, but slightly chubby blonde of about 60. She quickly introduced herself as Jade Fishman, Phil's mom and Chuck's wife. She entered the room with two other women. One was young, about 26 or so. Her hair was the color of Garrison's hair, and her smile looked as if it could be a part of a matched set. It was easy to guess that this was Garrison's sister, and Phil's wife, Charlotte. And within a millisecond of Lindsay coming to that conclusion, Lindsay was met with yet another welcoming handshake, and the self introduction of Charlotte Fishman.
My name is Marissa Clark, said a truly lovely older black woman. Lindsay was taken aback by her striking eyes. It took her a few moments to realize that Marissa Clark could not see, at least not with her beautiful eyes.
Lindsay, I cannot tell you how long we have waited for this moment. I know it may be difficult to understand, but you are with family now. You will never be alone again, whether you like it or not.
The last statement was meant to be funny, but Lindsay felt herself fighting back tears. She had been an emotional wreck for weeks now. The paper had been stress added to the heartbreak of her divorce. Lindsay had not realized how much she had felt like she was alone, until Marissa had offered her welcome. Garrison had been so naturally kind. This family seemed to really care about her. She was no longer alone. She had only been in this house for a few minutes, but she knew she was never going to be alone again.
Within one hour Lindsay was made a part of this family.
She met Chuck Fishman. She laughed outloud when he met her, because, instead of introducing himself, he asked her for a stock tip. He was short, bald, and obviously mischievous(in a good way). Lindsay could not help but like him.
Lindsay also met Jeremiah Fishman, Charlotte and Phil's six month old son, and Grandpa Gary's pride and joy. They showed Lindsay photographs of Gary holding his dear grandchild. There was something comforting in seeing Gary in a happy moment.
This paper had allowed Gary to have a life, Lindsay thought with a renewed sense of hope, Maybe there is a chance for me too.
The only person Lindsay hadn't met was Detective Zeke Hobson. Toni received a phone call earlier in the day; Zeke would be late. Lindsay quickly forgot about him, sat down to surprisingly good chili, and joined in the family dinner conversation.
Lindsay had no need to ask all of the questions that she had rehearsed in her mind. The Hobsons and Fishmans ate dinner and then traveled into the living room, then, without prompting, broke easily into telling old stories about Gary and the paper. Lindsay was drawn into the memories, as if she was there. Chuck and Marissa told her of Gary's first days with the paper. They told her of Gary's frustrations with "the paper," as well as his golden moments.
One after another Gary's life story was told. They told of the times when the paper tied all of its daily lose ends into a perfect bow, and the times where Gary had to force himself to go on after the paper seemed to fail him. Toni told of how she and Gary had met, their rocky courtship, and the moments she knew she could not live without him. She even told of the moment she learned about the paper. That day the paper had arrived at her door just in time to save Gary's life.
The most interesting part of the conversation was Gary's quest to learn about "the paper." It was the same quest that she herself had started on after Toni Hobson had made her visit the Blackstone. Toni had left Lindsay with a note telling her to live your life, and had created a desire to find out about the paper. Gary's part in that puzzle was being made clear through the stories shared by the family, but it was also clear that the paper remained as much of a mystery as ever .
Then there was Lucius Snow. Lindsay listened intently as the conversation turned to the type setter for The Phoenix and then The Chicago Sun Times. Lindsay remembered his picture in the book , Lost Chicago, that had showed up in her room. Lucius Snow and the cat were in the picture. The group explained what Gary had found out about Snow. His job, his staying at the Blackstone, a romance Gary learned about, his saving Gary's life as a child, and his note telling Gary to live [his] life. When one compared how little information Gary had found out about Lucius, and how much information she had learned about Gary in one night, Lindsay wished she could thank Gary Hobson.
Gary knew how difficult the paper would be for you. He knew it because of how difficult it was for him to live with, Marissa told Lindsay.
Toni added, As he got older, Gary and I planned how we...I...would approach you. I hope you can forgive us the mystery. We were afraid we would overwhelm you.... We thought you might rather go at it alone. Maybe you would give up the paper all together. Gary always believed the paper' was a choice.
Choice....that was something Lindsay never considered. She could choose? That was something to think about!
If the paper has taught me anything, it is to not be afraid to ask for help, Lindsay responded, I would love to get back to work...at least so I can pay my rent.
Well, that problem is easy to solve,chimed in Chuck, Tell er Marissa...
Marissa nodded and looked towards Lindsay. Gary, as you know, had money troubles too in the beginning. He would win enough money at the track or in the lottery to get make through a few months. He stopped needing to do this when he and Chuck became partners in McGinty's.
The bar, right?Lindsay asked .
Yes, the bar where Gary lived. Gary lived there over McGinty's, and when Chuck left I became his partner. Gary took care of the paper, and I took care of the bar......Before Gary died he decided to leave you his half of the partnership. And since you are partner, you certainly can move over McGinty's.
Lindsay was shocked. There was no way she could take the apartment for free, not to mention the partnership. No. I can't take the bar away from you Miss Clark. You should have the whole thing....or Mrs. Hobson should have Mr. Hobson's half. It wouldn't be right for me to take it. I hope....I hope you did not think my mention of rent was an attempt...
No, no ,no, Toni interrupted. Gary planned it. It was even in his will. The bar is yours now. It has been since Gary died. We will not have you going hungry or homeless for that paper!
I would feel wrong taking it. I was a stranger until today. People do not give business partnerships to strangers. Lindsay said aghast, and a bit embarrassed that she may be seen as someone hinting for financial help.
Chuck laughed, I thought you met Gary Hobson! This is exactly something he would do. The man was the world's oldest boy scout.
Toni shot Chuck a look.
Lindsay. Take the apartment honey. said Jade, It is what Gary would want.
Besides you've earned it...running around with that paper is a full time job,added Toni.
Toni then went on in a matter of fact tone, Zeke will help you move in this week.
Lindsay tried to protest, to no avail.
No buts. Zeke will help you move in. Remember Lindsay, you are now family. You are also not a stranger to us. Toni's face showed that she had made up her mind.
Garrison patted Lindsay's shoulder, I'd give up if I were you, you are outnumbered.
Lindsay conceded, But I am still not sure I feel right about it.
Lindsay was only met with reassuring smiles and words. She was going to like getting to know these people.
Just at that moment the front door was heard opening and then closing. A few seconds later, Zeke Hobson entered the living room...and Lindsay Romick's life.
To say that Zeke Hobson made Lindsay feel uncomfortable would be an understatement. He seemed so unlike the rest of the Hobsons. He wasn't unpleasant, but he stood in sharp contrast to his siblings. He lacked Charlotte and Garrison's open and sunny domineer. His personality was what best could be described as rather dark, and his temperament, quiet. He met Lindsay with a simple nod.
To top it off he was extremely attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome....literally! His features chiseled. His hair almost black. His brow dark.Where Garrison's eyes always seemed to be twinkling, Zeke's deep brown eyes seemed to be piercing. It did not escape Lindsay that Zeke was at least 10 years younger then she was, but he hardly looked it. His features, while handsome, seemed just a little bit weathered. The stress of being a cop had written itself into the edges of his face.
Anyone who compared Lindsay with Zeke would believe they were the same age. If anyone had the advantage it would be Lindsay. Sunscreen and Miss Clairol had given Lindsay the youthful edge.
The conversation at the Hobsons' died down around midnight. Zeke never joined in. He just sat across from Lindsay, listening,...or looking directly at her. He would look away, embarrassed, but it all made Lindsay nervous.
It seemed to Lindsay that she had found herself yet another mystery, on top of the one she already had....Detective Zeke Hobson.
Later that week, Lindsay wished she had not agreed to move into the loft over McGinty's. She arrived early on one of her rare, free mornings, to find out that Zeke was moving out. Zeke had been living over McGinty's. Finding the man almost impossible to read, Lindsay could not figure out if Zeke was angry.
If it could not possibly get worse, Garrison couldn't get away from the church to help. Lindsay had counted on Garrison to break up the tension. Lindsay now knew she would be spending the whole morning alone with a man who so obviously made her uneasy. His furniture had been moved out, and now her's had been moved in....but hardly a word out of Zeke Hobson! How much silence can a body stand!
Out of desperation, Lindsay was about to comment on the weather, when Zeke actually spoke.
I am not mad, he said with a deep mellow voice, and looking at her with his deep brown eyes.
Geeze! Is he a detective, and a mind reader? thought Lindsay .
Zeke seemed not to understand the strange look that came over Lindsay's face, because he quickly added, ...about the apartment. I mean, I don't mind. I knew I'd be moving out weeks ago. You don't have to feel like your kicking me out.... This is the way Dad wanted it
Zeke's expression when he said took Lindsay by surprise. She had seen Garrison talk about his father with reverence, but Zeke actually seemed....mad... at Gary Hobson.
With everything that had happened to her over the last few weeks, Lindsay decided to take the no fear approach to Zeke Hobson. She decided to be direct. You sound like you are angry with your father. You shouldn't be. I mean... I am the one who showed up looking for information. Your Dad had no idea I would actually show up.
Zeke looked up from some boxes he was packing. He sighed, and then added He knew. With that it seemed that Zeke was done talking. Lindsay did not care if Zeke was done with the conversation, she wasn't!
From what I remember, and from what everyone tells me, your father was just short of sainthood. Too think, he devoted his life to helping people. Something made Lindsay want to defend Gary Hobson.
Zeke didn't bother to look up, but laughed. You have spent too much time talking to my brother.
Your brother loved your father, Lindsay said, but quickly regretted the implications of what she had said. She saw Zeke's face react. He still did not look up.
My brother will tell you that my dad was given a gift. That 'paper....' Gift! That is rich. That paper took hours, days, weeks and years away from me. Hell! It ultimately took my father away from me. What did he get in return...nothing! He never made a cent off that paper. It never made his life easier. No, he and my mother worked hard, saved, sent my sister, bother and myself to college... all while he ran around pulling other children out of the paths of trucks. Did he complain... No! Don't try to convince me that that paper is a blessing from God. I think that paper is a curse." Zeke said finally looking up, "Do I love my father?...Yes. He was a wonderful man. A hero. He was a good father, when he was not being pushed all around town by that 'paper.' Even with all of his flaws, one day, I hope to be as great of a man as my father."
Zeke's expression convinced Lindsay of his sincerity. His look seemed to beg the question: Are you convinced?
It became clear that he was mad at "the paper," and not his father.
I am sorry.
I'm sorry, Lindsay and Zeke said simultaneously.
Zeke and Lindsay shared a quick laugh.
I am sorry, Zeke said looking directly into Lindsay's eyes, I just want you to realize that knowing the future may seem like a gift....but this gift' comes with a price. Are you going to be willing to pay it?
Lindsay could not help feeling uneasy. She knew deep down Zeke was right. Ever since she started getting that her life had taken on unforeseen complications. The only ray of sunshine had been the Hobsons. She didn't feel alone anymore, BUT....her life may never again be her own. That paper would be dictating the hours, days, weeks, and years ahead. For the first time, it scared her.
Your mother had said your father believed the paper was a choice. Do you?...I mean you seem to be telling me to run as fast as I can away from it. Zeke could see that Lindsay wasn't attempting to be confrontational, but speaking from real concern.
I don't know Lindsay, seems to me that the paper' knows what its doing. I mean, my Dad wanted to walk away from it his whole life, but he never did. said Zeke pausing and then going back to work.
Lindsay needed to know more, and had to ask why. Why didn't he?
Zeke stopped working again, but this time he sat down. Could you walk away from that paper, and then hear an ambulance off in the distance and not wonder who was hurt or died because you walked away?
You seem to be giving me mixed messages Detective Hobson, Lindsay said, One minute you seem to be advocating my throwing that paper in the trash, and the next moment you...well...you seem to be telling me I won't be able to live with myself if I do. I don't get it. With frustration Lindsay sat herself down in a chair in a flourish.
Zeke couldn't resist laughing, not at Lindsay, but at himself. That is exactly what he had been doing, giving mixed messages. Zeke knew exactly what his problem was: Lindsay Romick! How was this attractive, smart, but slightly naive, woman going to handle THE PAPER. He knew his thoughts were a little sexist, but he could not help but entertain his worst fears.
Before he could answer Lindsay, she misunderstood his laughter and snapped at him, Answer this Detective! How different was your father's life from that of a cop. Don't you detectives run around saving the world...or at least the Chicago metro area?
Zeke stood up and laughed. He then walked over to the kitchen and got a soda from the refrigerator.
Lindsay asked impatiently, her body language telling Zeke she demanded an answer.
Zeke wasn't about to get into another spat with this woman. The truth is he was inclined to really like her. First, he liked what his family had to say about her. He knew from Garrison that she was a very determined woman when it came to getting answers to her questions. He liked that in a person. Second, he, with all his animosity towards the paper, knew it must have had a reason for choosing Lindsay. It would not have chosen her if she was not the best sort of person. She must be honest, good, descent, everything he loved and admired in his father. Not that he thought of Lindsay the same way he did his father. In fact, Lindsay would have been shocked to hear his attraction towards her made him uncomfortable. His initial coolness towards Lindsay, was because of this attraction. But Zeke was a cop. Lindsay was right his life wasn't too different from his dad's life. He could not be looking for a relationship. A man in his line of work had no right to that kind of relationship. He was married to his career. He could not drag a wife, or kids, into his lifestyle of homicides and drug busts. Maybe his dad should never have dragged a family into his peculiar lifestyle...but that thought Zeke decided to ignore...for now. It got a little too close to a part of his heart that still remained a child who was grieving for his father.
You're right, Zeke said in a flat, matter of fact tone.
Lindsay wanted to get good and mad, until hit her, When I heard you were a cop, I had thought you were following in your mother's footsteps. I was wrong, wasn't I? You want to be like your dad. The hero' and all that?
You're right, again, Zeke laughed, even though Lindsay's questions had been serious, I heard you are a nurse, but are you sure you are not also a psychiatrist?
I wish I was a shrink. Then maybe I could help myself figure out what I am going to do with this paper, said Lindsay feeling utterly lost.
You are going to be a hero...or heroine.... And if you ever need help from a guy with his own hero complex' give me a call. Zeke said with a little grin, but then became very serious, I mean Lindsay, you do not have to go alone. I will never be happy about that paper', but I am joining the team.
Lindsay kicked her covers off and tried to wake herself as she walked to the door. After six months, Lindsay had found herself settled into a routine. A routine that began every morning at 6:30 when she received her wake up call from the cat.
Lindsay opened the door and bent down to grab the paper. After the cat scampered toward his dish, Lindsay plopped down in her living room chair, and quickly browsed through the paper.
Well, nothing before ten this morning, Lindsay said to herself with a sigh of relief. She was going to have time for the second part of her Lindsay quickly showered and dressed. She reached down an patted the cat on the head, and was met with a meow of feline appreciation.
See you later, cat, Lindsay said to her orange side-kick and closed the door to the loft above McGinty's.
Downstairs she could smell her breakfast. Marissa was quickly becoming a combination of best friend and mother. She always made sure that Lindsay ate right. Marissa made sure that Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke, started their day with a good breakfast. Every morning that Lindsay wasn't needed immediately by the paper, she met the guys for breakfast. Over breakfast, they talked about the paper's daily activities.
Lindsay soon saw the guys in their regular spot at the same table in McGinty's. Zeke was already in the middle of his breakfast. Garrison, of course, was waiting for Lindsay to arrive before he started. It was the same everyday. Lindsay was amused with the predictability of most of her mornings. Months ago she would never have guessed for this oasis of security in the middle of the rush of activity that came with the paper.
Zeke had been right, he had joined a team. The guys were there if the paper became dangerous or demanding. Zeke was available if she needed the police. Garrison was there if she needed spiritual counsel for a difficult decision, or a friend to go with her on her trickier The reality was that she had to do most of the paper's biddings, but having Garrison and Zeke when she needed them helped her face the day. This team had been Gary Hobson's gift to her.
So what's up? Zeke asked before scooping some egg with his toast.
Well, the main priority today is two movers getting overcome with smoke at a little museum in the old part of town, Lindsay said getting started on her breakfast.
Zeke sat up strait. The thought of Lindsay involved with a fire made him nervous. He would not let himself acknowledge why.
Garrison knew exactly why he was nervous, he wasn't going to let his friend get hurt in a fire. He lost his dad that way, he wasn't going to lose anyone else. God willing, he hoped he would not have to lose anyone else for a long time. Garrison quickly said a prayer.
Zeke knew better than to talk Lindsay out of going. Even if the paper allowed him to go instead, which was unlikely, Lindsay wouldn't.
Maybe I had better tag along, Zeke said feigning disinterest, I can call for help if you need it
You don't need to
I know you do not need me to go, but what if someone should get hurt. We wouldn't want one of the workman to be injured, quickly replied Zeke.
Lindsay figured out that Zeke was worried, even though he pretended to have more interest in his packet of strawberry jelly. Zeke missed the look that Garrison shot Lindsay. He was amused with his older brother. Zeke always pretended not to really care, but Garrison knew better (especially were Lindsay was concerned). Garrison could not hold back a giggle at his brother's expense. Zeke looked at Garrison as if he could care less if strangling a priest might send him to hell.
So what are the particulars, Lin? Garrison asked sparing his brother from further embarrassment.
Lindsay pulled out the paper and gave them the address. ...the Queen Anne house and museum contained the estate of the famous Chicago Opera singer, Kathleen Hall, known as The Lark of Chicago.' Hall became famous during the 1901 opera season for her exceptionally fine quality soprano voice. Hall, however, disappeared off the opera scene the next year. While living out the rest of her life in her Chicago home, she was considered eccentric in her lifestyle..., read Lindsay.
Eccentric, I think they mean she was crazy, Zeke commented, finishing his breakfast, and wiping his hands on a napkin.
Crazy or not, we have a fire to stop... It says here that she left all of her things to her granddaughter who started the museum. Her great-great niece runs it now. The paper says the crime problem is what is making them move. Lindsay said looking up at Zeke.
Don't give me that look, I am doing my part. I just arrested a guy for multiple murder with a salad spinner, Zeke said defending himself, Don't ask!
Well Father Mac is doing confessions for me today, so we can all head over there together, said Garrison with his trademark grin.
Oh this is going to be interesting. A priest, a cop, and a nurse...we sound like a bad joke, Zeke added sarcastically with a laugh, ...One day they will be calling all of us eccentric.
Garrison rolled his eyes. Lindsay laughed.
Marissa Clark could not help but hear the laughing. At times, the morning meeting of Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke reminded her of another trio. Memories of her, Chuck, and Gary, made her heart a bit lighter. She missed Gary. He had been a blessing to her life, and his loving selfless nature was still present. Marissa thanked Gary in her heart for what he had done for Lindsay.
Marissa was not the only observer of the three. Peering in the window was a man in his mid thirties. He was wearing a brown leather coat, its collar turned up to block the cold from his ears. He also had on dark gloves, blue jeans, and sneakers. A red knitted scarf was wrapped around his neck. He was observing the scene with a pleased look on his face.
You did a good job, a voice said from behind him. The younger man nodded, while continuing to take one last look in at Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke.
The man looking in the window turned to face a man in a tan trench coat. This man was in his sixties. An old tweedy sort of hat sat on top of his head. They met smile to smile, and then turned to walk down the street. The younger man looked back once, and smiled again. The two set off down the road....and a small orange cat followed quickly behind.
What in the heck are they going to do with this old crap, Marv? said a large burly man moving a box full of yellowed papers and posters, all while smoking a cigar.
Would you put that thing out, idiot! replied a man just as large, I guess it is going to the opera house. The lady whose stuff that is, I guess, was famous.
Well union rules say it's break time said the first man tossing his cigar into a trash can, and giving the box a toss.
Can't we just fin... said the other man, only to give up and join his coworker. They both left the room in the old house to grab a drink outside in their van, neither one notice than the box they had been moving had fallen over.
Old opera posters unrolled on the floor. Mixed in with the posters were aged photographs, and a very old cloth bound diary.
Many pictures of a young woman dressed in various costumes sitting, or standing, in different poses had been strewed out all over the wood floor. One black and white picture seemed quite unusual. It lay across a turn-of-the-20th-Century opera house poster.
On the poster was The Lark of Chicago in fancy calligraphy. The poster clearly had a sketch of the same young woman whose pictures lay around the room.
The black and white photo was of the pretty young woman at about 28 years of age. In the photo her hair was pulled up in proper early 1900s style. She was posed sitting in a chair with her elbow on a small marble topped table. This sort of pose seemed quite common in the other photos as well, but her props" in the photo were quite odd. Other than the table, and the girl, there were only two other objects. On her lap was a folded newspaper, and sitting on the table was a familiar striped cat.
As the pictures and posters sat..... a plume of smoke began trailing up from the nearby trash can.....
This story is dedicated to the memory of:
If only there was a paper that told the future...
Author's Note:Early Edition, and its characters, do not belong to me. Please do not sue.
I thank everyone for their kind comments. I apologize for the, sometimes long, wait. I intend to continue Lindsay's story. What did Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke discover about The Lark of Chicago? What about that attraction between Lindsay and Zeke? These questions will be answered as Lindsay teams up with Zeke and Garrison to find a serial killer!!!!
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mrwiseman@usa.net