It's been a long time since I've posted an update. But, I finished my class and finally have a little spare time on my hands. I am hoping to produce more steady chapters in the coming months. A "Hart-felt" thank you to those who choose to continue with this journey — or re-read to remember where this journey has taken us thus far! You deserve a gold star!
7
Jonathan was fidgety and had been rubbing his forehead and temple off and on throughout their conversation. Jennifer had already asked him if he had a headache or wanted some aspirin and he shrugged her off.
"Look at this one," Jonathan said as he pointed to an old, yellowed racing form on the coffee table.
The ladies leaned in a little closer.
"See the two horses that are circled?" he asked.
"Cool Night Breeze," Jennifer read slowly aloud. "In the fifth race?" she added because Jonathan seemed to be deliberately pointing it out.
"Right. That one and this other one in the eighth race, Wild Heart," he said.
"What about them?" Jennifer asked.
"Do you own those horses?" Janet asked.
"No," said Jonathan. "Look at the date of the form." He had closed his eyes and was rubbing his forehead again.
Janet picked up the paper and searched for the date. "Ah-ha. May twentieth, nineteen fifty-five. You definitely wouldn't have owned horses back then," she remarked.
"I didn't own anything back then that di—" There was a catch in Jonathan's voice just as his eyes met Jennifer's. He shook it off and continued, but the emotion in his voice continued to betray him, "…that didn't fit in the cigar box that I kept tucked between my mattress and the wall at the head of my bed."
The eye contact was all it took. She had been willing herself to keep her emotions in check, but the audible flutter as she drew in breath gave her away as well. He didn't often speak about what it felt like for him growing up in the orphanage. Mostly, he talked about the nuns, the other kids, what school was like, that sort of thing. In those times, his demeanor was fairly matter-of-fact — an 'it was what it was' and 'that was that' sort of attitude. Every once in a while he would peel back a layer of vulnerability and share with her some of the sadness, anxiety, anger, and even shame of what it was really like for him. Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked in an attempt to regain composure.
"Cool Night Breeze and Wild Heart," Jennifer quickly offered as she gave his shoulder a pat. She knew it was best to keep the conversation rolling.
"This is going to sound crazy," said Jonathan, "but these particular horses circled on this particular form on this particular day — this was my form. I circled those horses."
"Your form?" Janet asked with a sense of confusion.
"Wait a minute, Jonathan," said Jennifer, "How could this be your form? I know you've circled a lot of racing forms over the years — you and Max both, but—"
"Like I said," Jonathan interrupted her, "Crazy. But I know it's mine. It's that damned curse of mine."
Jennifer elbowed Jonathan in the side as subtly as she could, gesturing with her head toward Janet before he could question her.
"Oh. Sorry, Janet. That darn curse."
"Jonathan, please be yourself around me. Lightning won't strike the convent just because you used a four-letter word," Janet chuckled. "Besides, I know it's been a rough few days. I don't want to make you feel like you can't relax and just speak freely in front of me on top of all that you are dealing with."
"Still. I am sorry."
Janet nodded in acceptance. "But, what do you mean, exactly, when you say you are cursed?"
Jennifer sat back on the couch a little. "Jonathan calls it a curse. But, I would tend to argue that it's a gift or a blessing, even."
"Okay. Okay," Jonathan turned and patted Jennifer's forearm before he continued, "maybe it's both."
"Listen, you know that I tend to pick things up rather quickly and that I read fast and, well, that I—"
"That you're basically the smartest person on the planet?" Janet interrupted.
"Not the smartest," Jonathan responded, "just… well," he stammered, "I can hold my own."
"Hold your own?" Janet interjected. "Jonathan, you were teaching physics to the nuns by fifth grade."
Jennifer and Janet exchanged knowing grins.
"Alright, ladies, that's enough."
They all laughed. Jennifer was grateful for the laughter and banter as it seemed to be easing Jonathan's tension.
Jonathan sighed. "I can't win with you people."
"That's because you know I'm right," Janet smiled.
"Well, now that we've established that I'm brilliant," Jonathan smirked, "I was just trying to explain that much of how I learn and the reason I can recall technical things fairly easily is because I sort of have a photographic memory. That is my curse — or gift."
He gave Jennifer a little nod, giving credit to her observation.
"You have a photographic memory?" Janet asked. "That's fascinating."
"And frustrating," Jonathan responded. "Well, at times it's frustrating."
"I always marveled at how you used to literally read entire textbooks and actually learn from them. Who does that?" Janet queried, not intending a response. "Sill, I wish I had that ability. It certainly would help me to remember where I left my reading glasses."
"It doesn't work like that with me," He said.
"He's right," said Jennifer. "He can definitely forget things now and then," she added while eyeing Jonathan.
"Come on. I forget one dinner party with the Foundation for Professional Women and suddenly my intelligence is on trial."
"You were giving the award for Professional Woman of the Year. How could you not remember?"
"Stop it, now. I got there, didn't I?"
"After I had you paged at the tennis club and sent Max with your tux to pick you up."
"Like I was trying to say…," he dramatically emphasized those words as he specifically addressed Janet, "photographic memory has more to do with things I actually see — words and pictures on a page, layouts of a room, license plate numbers, legal documents, that sort of thing. It doesn't exactly work with how I remember my day."
"Darling, I was only trying to help you prove your point," she grinned.
"Yeah," he rolled his eyes.
Jennifer blew him a kiss.
Janet laughed. "She's really perfect for you. You do know that?"
"I guess," he said as he tried to keep a sober face.
"Hey?" Jennifer reacted.
He wrapped his arm around Jennifer. Pulling her close he kissed her temple ever so sweetly. He then took her hand and laced his fingers with hers.
"She's just plain perfect," he said, holding her hand a little tighter. "To answer you properly, Janet, I do know how fortunate I am to have this beautiful lady by my side. I don't know what I did to deserve her."
Jennifer's heart fluttered. It always did when Jonathan said lovely things about her. At the same time, she didn't like being made the center of attention. "Okay, let's stop this. What were you saying about the racing form?" she changed the subject as she patted their intertwined hands.
"Always the inquisitive journalist, my wife — deflecting attention off of her and back to the topic at hand. Touché, darling."
Jennifer nodded unashamedly. She was nonetheless happy for the return of his playful nature, however long or short it would last.
"Why do you say this is your paper?" asked Janet.
"See, I was fourteen years old that summer. I had a good business going, selling both the San Francisco Chronicle and the LA Times in my little section of sidewalk real estate — regular customers, good tips, decent relationships with the local merchants. I started branching out by doing a few odd jobs for some of the locals. I'd been at the same corner for nearly two years by then. I amassed a tiny savings and finally found a bookie who would honor my business if you know what I mean."
"Someone who wouldn't swindle you if you won a bet?" Jennifer offered.
"Exactly," he responded. "I remember this bet vividly."
"You bet your newspaper earnings on horses?" Janet asked.
"You're really surprised by that?" he returned.
She would have liked to act surprised by the question, but then simply shook her head.
"To quote Max," he conjured up his best gravelly Max impression, "I was 'not exactly a model citizen' in those days."
"Why do you remember this bet so well, darling?" Jennifer asked.
"I remember it because it was the first time I won big."
"You did?"
"I really did," he replied, "See, Wild Heart was going off at twenty to one. There was something about that horse's name that I just connected with, you know — Wild. Heart."
The ladies nodded and smiled.
"I just had a feeling — a gut reaction. That horse was going to land me some solid cash. I just knew it."
"But at twenty to one? That was risky. How much did you bet?" Jennifer asked.
"Precisely $163.30."
"Jonathan, you bet that much on a twenty to one horse when you were just a kid?" Jennifer scolded.
"You sound like Max."
"That must have been a year's savings."
"Well, I made a bit more than that the first year I sold papers. But I only sold the local paper that first year. Like I said, I had figured a few things out by this point, and I had calculated just the right number of each paper to sell each day so that I rarely had any left-overs. And the Sunday papers net quite a bit more than the dailies. I knew how to turn a buck even back then," he said as he smiled at his wife.
"Still, that was a lot of money back then."
"Even now," suggested Janet.
"My insurance plan was in the earlier race with the other horse, Cool Night Breeze. I loved the name. Can't you imagine the fresh scent of a cool breeze off the ocean, the sun just touching the water as it dips at sunset? Plus, that horse was a sure thing," he tipped the back of his hand up to his mouth as if to share a secret, "according to my source."
"Let's see," Jennifer peered at the racing form, "Cool Night Breeze was a three to one shot. How much did you bet in that race? It must have been plenty if you thought you could recapture a hundred and sixty-some dollars from it."
"Fifty-four smackers."
"Wait a minute," Janet interrupted while calculating in her head, "you bet $217 that day?"
"And thirty cents," Jonathan grinned.
"Jonathan!" Jennifer scoffed.
"It was gravy all the way, I tell ya," he responded, "I was feeling mighty invincible that day. My hunches paid off — both horses won! I walked away that day $3,428 richer than I started. I couldn't believe my luck!"
"You remember the exact amount you won?" Janet asked.
Jonathan feigned a look of shock. "You don't think I'd remember the first time I ever held over a thousand dollars exactly how much it was?"
Janet only nodded with a soft smile.
"Like I was saying, I was feeling mighty lucky and ready to celebrate. Until…" Jonathan's voice trailed off.
"Until what?" both girls inquired in unison.
"Until I was jumped coming home after settling up with my bookie."
"What?"
"Oh, darling! Were you hurt?"
"My pride and my pockets were the only things that sustained lasting injuries. I was scraped up some, but nothing I hadn't dealt with before. But then Max did his best to knock me down a peg or two after he found out. Boy, was he sore with me."
"I shouldn't wonder," Jennifer commented.
"I haven't seen this racing form in all these years."
"Did your attackers take it from you when they took the cash?" Janet asked.
"No. I had it after that. I kept it on purpose. I used to look at it to remind me."
"Remind you?" Jennifer asked. "Why?"
"It was one of the absolute greatest and worst days of my life up to that point. I had all that cash in my hands, and I was so proud. I was going to buy a car and put the rest aside to get my first apartment, but —"
"When you were fourteen?"
"Darling, you've got to know that I felt invincible at that point. It was the first time I felt like I could do anything I wanted, and nobody was going to tell me what to do."
"How could you think that you could buy a car and get an apartment at fourteen?"
"Sweetheart, who was going to stop me? The nuns? I was already old enough to get an operator's license then. At fourteen I could have worked in any factory or skilled labor field that was willing to hire me. Being a resident of an orphanage was the only thing requiring me to go to school. Otherwise, I could drop out. I had no parents. I thought I was ready to take on the world — say goodbye to Mission Street for good. If I had the money to buy a car I could have bought one and just taken off."
"But that didn't happen," Jennifer said, softly.
"Nope."
Jonathan just sat there staring at the racing form.
"I'm sorry, darling."
"Don't be sorry," he said as he laid the form down on the coffee table. "It was the best thing that could have happened."
"Wow," said Janet, "that's really remarkable to admit that."
"Not remarkable. It was the best thing that could have happened. But I certainly didn't feel that way at the time," he admitted while continuing to stare at the table.
"I seem to remember you had a grudge on the world in those days," Janet shared.
"Yeah," Jonathan murmured. He let out a heavy sigh and began adjusting some of the other items from the envelope. His thoughts drifted.
Janet broke the swelling silence by asking, "Why do you suppose this racing form showed up now?"
"I'll tell you one thing, I have no idea who's behind this, but I know for sure that Max's disappearance has something to do with me and it's very personal," said Jonathan.
"Darling?" The concern was evident in her query.
"Janet, do you remember when that little girl contracted polio at Mission Street? We were maybe sophomores at the time."
"Oh," she paused, "I do. Yes. Dorothy something. We called her Dot when she was little. I wonder whatever happened to her."
"Remember how they had people come in and strip all our bedding and sent all our clothes out to be sanitized?"
"My gosh, I completely forgot about that. You know, I don't have a great memory from back then — a lot of my memories are all lumped together and I don't know what year they happened," said Janet.
"I can understand that," he said.
"Darling, what are you getting at?" asked Jennifer.
"Do you remember that I said that I kept a cigar box tucked between my mattress and the wall?"
"Yes," the ladies said in unison."
"That was the last I ever saw of that cigar box — when they came through and took all the bedding. I had a small pile of items left on my mattress from that box — my harmonica, a tin of shoe polish, a small pile of marbles, and my pocket knife. They told us they had to get rid of anything that couldn't be sanitized. They just took everything one day when we were at school and threw it all away. Well, at least that's what they told us. But now —"
"You're really sure this paper was yours?" asked Jennifer.
"Positive," he replied. "Along with all of this other stuff. All mine."
"Other stuff?"
"All of these things from the envelope."
"You're sure?"
"I am absolutely positive. All of these things were in my cigar box."
"No." Jennifer's response was one of surprise more than anything.
"The racing form, the bubble gum wrappers, this baseball card — this '52 Pee Wee Reece has to be worth a pretty penny. I'm surprised whoever had all of this didn't pawn it by now." He raised his eyebrows as he picked up the next item and looked at his wife. "This was the first tie I ever bought myself."
"Yellow. Your favorite color," Jennifer smiled.
He winked back.
"Was this what you kept your marbles in?" Janet asked as she pointed to a small leather pouch.
"Yep. Traded my best shooter and three of my most valuable cat's eyes for that."
They all silently considered that for a moment.
"What's this?" Jennifer asked as she picked up a Polaroid of what looked like a comic book.
"This…" he said as he leaned over and tapped the photo, "this is a first edition Captain America comic book. The very first issue."
"This couldn't have been in your cigar box," she said. "There were no color photos back then. Not only that, but it can't be very old. All of my old color Polaroids are pretty orange. This doesn't show any signs of aging."
"You're right," he said, "The picture wasn't in my box. The actual comic book was, though."
"It was?" Jennifer asked.
"It was."
"I don't get it," said Jennifer.
"Don't get what?" he asked.
"Why a picture and not the actual comic book?"
"Unlike the baseball card, I'm guessing they do understand the value of this comic book."
"Comic books are worth a lot of money?" Janet asked.
"Oh sure," said Jonathan. "Depending on the condition and the volume, some can be worth a lot of money. Captain America Number One in fairly good shape is probably worth thousands by now. Even a well-read copy with no rips would be worth a thousand or more."
"Really?" Janet expressed in amazement.
"Darling," said Jennifer, "why on earth would someone keep this stuff for all these years?"
"I don't know," he said.
"And why would they send it all to you now?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know. But it's obvious that it has something to do with Max," he said.
"Do you have any idea who might have had it all this time?"
"I have no idea. Not one," he said. "I mean, whoever had it obviously knew it was my stuff. It had to be someone who had access to the school and to the boys' dormitory. Makes you wonder what other stuff they have. Strange."
"Creepy," Jennifer winced. "Whoever this is must have a long-standing animosity toward you or something."
"Something." he agreed. " I just don't know who."
"Jonathan, how many of us do you keep in touch with?" asked Janet. "Besides you, the only person I keep in touch with is Joan Nolan. And that's because she and I shared an apartment for a few years when we finally moved out of Mission Street."
"Really, no one," said Jonathan. "I have to admit that once I got out of there I was so ready to leave that part of my life behind. And I'm embarrassed to say that if you and I hadn't crossed paths when I opened up the Foundation I'm not sure that we would even be in touch today," he told Janet.
"Don't even give that a second thought," she assured him. "I haven't been any better."
"Still —" he said as his thoughts drifted.
Janet picked up the photo of the comic book and said, "I remember this."
Jonathan rested his chin in his hand as he leaned his elbow on his knee. "I wondered if you would."
"If I remember correctly, you had a rather protective attachment to that comic book," said Janet.
Jonathan rubbed his upper lip thoughtfully. He attempted to respond, but he couldn't.
"Darling?" Jennifer knew immediately that his unease had returned, which caused her worry to reignite.
"I'm sorry," said Janet, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," said Jonathan. "I'm actually glad you said that."
"Oh?" Janet said.
"That's actually why I wanted to see you today."
"It is?" Janet replied
Jennifer waited for Jonathan to look her way. She knew he would. Their eyes met and he relaxed ever so slightly, just enough for her to recognize. He gave her a half-hearted smile before he turned back to the picture.
"It was supposed to have belonged to my father," he said.
"Really?" Jennifer gasped.
"My gosh, that's right," said Janet. "I remember now. You used to be very protective of it because it was a connection to your dad. You never let anyone else touch it, and you always worried someone might steal it."
He looked back at his wife, grateful for her loving eyes.
"Yep," he said.
"Oh, Jonathan," said Jennifer as she reached for his hand. "It really belonged to your father?"
"That's what I was told when it was given to me," he said.
"What can I do or how can I help you with this, then," asked Janet.
Jonathan couldn't sit any longer. He stood after gently squeezing his wife's hand and letting it go. "I wasn't really sure about coming here, but I knew that you were the only person I knew who might be able to tell me whether my memories were accurate." He walked over to the window and looked out over the garden. "I mean, I am really fuzzy when it comes to things that happened before high school. Sometimes I'm not sure if my memories are real or if they are something I dreamed up. I haven't seen or thought about this comic book for decades, and basically, I wondered if I dreamed that it belonged to my father."
Jennifer contemplated whether to get up and go to her husband. Janet saw the worry in Jennifer's eyes and lovingly rubbed Jennifer's forearm.
"You didn't dream it," Janet reassured him. "I can't say whether or not it was true back then, but I can assure you, at least, that you told me it belonged to your father."
"Well, I'm glad I'm not making things up in my head," said Jonathan.
He turned away from the window and walked over toward the ladies who both stood up.
"What else can I do to help you and Jennifer?" Janet asked.
"I honestly don't know," he replied. "I guess it was kind of silly coming all the way out here on a Sunday and bothering you with all of this when I could have just called you."
"It's no trouble at all," said Janet. "In fact, I'm really glad that you came. I don't think it's silly, and it certainly is no inconvenience. It is so nice to see you both. I wish that it didn't take such frightening circumstances to bring us together all the time."
"I agree," said Jennifer.
"I promise that we will get together one day soon with no organized crime or kidnapping cases on the agenda," said Jonathan.
"That sounds marvelous," said Janet. "Maybe one day we can talk more about some other memories of our childhood — they weren't all bad,"
Jonathan smiled. "No, they weren't. That sounds nice," he said.
"We will definitely be praying for Max's safe return," Janet added.
"Thank you," said Jonathan. "That means a lot."
He bent down and collected the items from the coffee table and placed them back inside the envelope.
"You know," said Janet, "I am very thankful for the Jonathan Hart Mission Street Foundation."
"Well, thank you," said Jonathan. "It means a lot to me."
"I know it does," said Janet. "Of course it is important to the orphanage and it has provided so much for them, but I mean I am thankful that it brought us back together. I am grateful to know the amazing and generous man you've become."
She turned to Jennifer, "And you. I am proud to know both of you. The love you have for one another and the love you share with all of God's creatures. Jennifer, I have read about what you're doing to protect and care for wildlife. Orphans. Wildlife orphans. You are both remarkable."
"Why, thank you, Mother," said Jennifer. "Everyone deserves a fair chance in this world. I'm only doing what I feel I should do to protect those who don't have a voice or means to help themselves."
"Thank you, Janet," said Jonathan. "I have to agree, she is remarkable."
As their time together wound down they all lit candles and shared a prayer for Max before saying their goodbyes. They shared hugs before Jonathan and Jennifer made their way out of Janet's office and back to their car.
To be continued...
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