THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

Chapter 11: "Crossroads"

By Bill K.

Gert Tenoh sat in his study at his roll top desk contemplating his life. How had he reached this point? One daughter despised him. Another was getting there. His robust life and vitality had been sucked away by weakness lurking within him. His happy, comforting home was in chaos. Suddenly he could see the wolves snapping at the door where before he had been blissfully ignorant. Where had he gone wrong?

"Gert?" a voice called to him. He looked up. Himeko was standing over him, the concern for him plain on her face. How he loved that face. Though age had taken some of the suppleness from her skin and lined her generous eyes and tiny mouth, there was still enough of the face left that he had fallen in love with thirty-three years ago. Those features brought back so many memories to him, of playful times, of quiet times together, of intimate havens from the cruelties of the world around them. How much had knowing this woman enriched his life? How much brighter was his life from her presence in it?

"I'm all right, Mama," he said, grasping her tiny hand in his and rubbing the back with his thumb.

"You seemed pale," Himeko persisted.

"This situation wears on me," he told her. "A man shouldn't have to go through such things. No one should."

"That 'other woman' called," Himeko said, unable to conceal her distaste for Michiru. "She told me Junko is staying there. I knew that would happen. I knew they'd find a way to lure her into . . ."

"Mama," Gert sighed, trying to reel her back in.

"She said she wants to set Junko up in an apartment here," Himeko continued to fuss. "They would pay for everything and Junko would be on her own. As if I was supposed to believe that! Well, I have no intention of leaving our daughter to THEIR questionable moral values. I'm not leaving her alone and unprotected in this . . .!"

"Mama," Gert said more strongly. Himeko stopped and looked at him. "I'm calling the bank. I'm telling them I can't taking the job in Bern after all."

"Gert!" Himeko gasped.

"It seemed like the best solution."

"But Gert, your health!"

"Mama," Gert began haltingly. "Junko doesn't want to go. If we force her, she'll either run away or she'll hate us the entire time. I don't want that. I can't take the thought of another daughter hating us. And we're too old to start over AGAIN. She wants to stay here, so I'll stay here - - because she's my little darling girl."

"But Gert!" Himeko protested, kneeling at his feet.

"She's a smart girl, Mama. We have to trust that she won't get sucked into their perversion. We have to trust in her, Mama. We have to." Himeko saw her husband struggle with his emotions. "Because otherwise she's gone - - gone from our lives like Haruka. I've brushed with death, Mama. It makes you see what's important. And what's important to me is my family. You and Junko are all I have that means anything."

"But what about you?" Himeko asked. "If this means I lose you sooner . . .!"

"What's more important, Mama? Ten years of the three of us together, or twenty years without Junko?"

Overcome with emotion, Himeko buried her face in her husband's leg and cried. Gert reached down, his own tears trickling down, and stroked his wife's pinned black hair.

"I'm sorry for making you cry, Mama," he whispered. "I vowed on our wedding day that I would never do it"

Outside the clubhouse, there was celebration. The stands of the Tokyo Dome were packed and the crowds were singing and chanting forty-five minutes after the game had ended. The news was being broadcast all over Japan for those who hadn't been glued to the television watching. The Yomiyuri Giants had won a hard fought struggle with the Seibu Lions and captured the Japanese Baseball League title, to the elation of roughly half the country and to the consternation and agony of roughly the other half. For in Japan, one either loved the Giants or spat on the graves of their ancestors. There was no middle ground.

Inside the clubhouse, athletes and clubhouse personnel were celebrating as well. There were booming chants that rattled the walls and grown men dancing in celebration like little kids. The press had mostly come and gone, had gotten their interviews and post-game quotes. Derek Johnson had received much attention because he was the unquestioned star of the team, and it had been his diving catch in left field in the sixth inning that had robbed Seibu of a bases clearing triple and preserved the Yomiyuri lead. But the star of the game had been Seiji Matsumoto, the reserve infielder filling in at second that game. Seiji, a career .244 hitter, had two singles, two doubles, four runs batted in and an acrobatic stop in the field that had turned a double play.

Derek smiled as the reporters continued to swarm Seiji. It was fine with him that they did. Seiji deserved his moment in the sun after toiling in anonymity for seven years. It was good for the team, for his heroics had helped them get past a tenacious Seibu club. And, he knew, that it would be good for the Japanese people to have one of their own be the star of the series, even though Derek had carried the club to the playoffs much of the year. Besides, they'd won. That was the important thing. So what if he wasn't the MVP? A Japanese League championship was the important thing - - that and catching the eye of a major league scout.

And there'd be a warm welcome for him tonight from one Japanese citizen at least. Derek smiled as his mind's eye lingered on the mental picture of Rei Hino smiling up at him, her violet eyes twinkling and her alluring features conveying the desire she had for him. That was plenty of consolation for any one man.

His cell phone sounded. Derek reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Congratulations, Derek," the voice of his agent came over the phone. "Too bad about the MVP vote."

"Matsumoto deserved it," Derek replied. "He had the game of his life. He should get props for it. I'm just happy we won."

"Yeah, that should sound real great to the press," his agent told him.

"You are a very cynical man," chuckled Derek. "Is everything set up with Azucareros del Este?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. The contract is signed. They're just waiting for you to fly over. But are you sure you want to do this? I can get you out of it."

"I've played winter ball in the Dominican for nine years now. It's a tradition. Besides, I need to play. I don't know what to do with myself otherwise." He smiled at the thought of Rei again. "Although I think I could find something to do this year. You know - - I've got two weeks to report. If I change my mind in two weeks, would you be able to get me out of that contract?"

"We'll worry about that after I tell you this news," his agent told him.

Derek listened to the news. Instantly elation far exceeding the joy he'd felt at winning the Japanese League title washed over him. Derek pumped his fist in the air in triumph.

Then, with a sudden realization, his joy was dampened.

Haruka Tenoh parked her blue Fiat in the garage. She pulled her suitcase out of the trunk and headed for the covered hallway that connected the garage to the main house. There was an air of frustration to her demeanor, but the woman remained silent.

Twenty-sixth place wasn't where she'd remotely anticipated finishing. But gear box malfunctions will do that to even the best racers. The problem was that it was the latest in a series of troubles and distractions that had dogged her entire racing year. Starting with the month she'd taken off during the beginning of the season to tend to Michiru after her illness, followed by mechanical failures and poor races, then the trouble with Junko and her parents and now this, 2007 was a year of disappointment for her. Luckily her sponsor backed her in the face of rumors that she'd lost her focus or her drive to succeed. But maybe the rumors were true and she didn't want to admit it. Maybe 2008 should be dedicated to Michiru, racing, Junko and nothing else, in that order.

"Hey, Babe. I'm back!" Haruka called out as she entered through the kitchen. When there was no answer, she assumed Michiru was in her studio concentrating on a painting to the exclusion of everything else.

The woman entered the room and found Michiru moving to meet her. The look on her love's face was enough to tell Haruka that something was wrong. Seeing Junko at the far end of the room with a similar expression narrowed the possibilities.

"What happened?" Haruka asked. She turned from Junko's concerned face to Michiru's.

"Mom and Dad want to move to Switzerland!" Junko cried. "And they want me to come, too!"

"I don't believe them," Haruka muttered. Michiru encircled the woman's waist with her arms and looked up at her. "What can we do?"

"According to our attorney, not much," Michiru replied. "They have custody over Junko and if they choose to move to Switzerland and want her to come along, the law says she has to go. You don't have any say in the matter, even as a family member, unless you can somehow demonstrate that they're unfit or abusive."

Haruka let out a low, helpless sigh.

"I'm not going, Haruka!" Junko declared and Haruka again had flashbacks to another time and another black and white decision made by a teen who only saw black and white. "I don't care what they say and I don't care what you say! I'm not going to Switzerland!"

Haruka looked at Junko, looked at her hard, and saw the stubborn adamance she often saw in a mirror. Haruka knew from bitter experience that her life was at a crossroads, much as she had been several other times in her life. The right choice would resolve things as best as could be resolved. The wrong choice would send everything spinning out of control, possibly sunder the budding relationship she'd formed with the sister she'd never known before six months ago. And there were so many possible wrong choices. But what was the right choice? Faced with an impossible choice, Haruka did what she often did: chose what she thought was right.

"Then you're going to have to live on your own here until you're twenty," Haruka told her. "I'll set you up with a place to live and a spending account. But we can't have any contact."

"Why not?" Junko gasped.

"Because what we're doing is illegal," Haruka continued. "Michiru and I would be interfering with the custody rights of Mom and Dad. And you'd be an unsupervised juvenile violating custody, too. And if the police manage to trace you through us, they'd ship you off to Switzerland and us to jail."

Junko looked down. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

"But I'll do it, because you're family," Haruka said, "and because you'll probably do it whether I support you or not, so I may as well make this as easy for you as I can."

Junko peeked up at her. Her mouth was pulled back in a slight smile.

"Sorry if I'm more trouble than I'm worth," Junko said.

"All this OK with you?" Haruka asked Michiru, who was still cuddled next to her.

"I wish there was a better way," Michiru confessed. "But I swore to stand by you and I've done so for worse things than this."

Just then, the phone rang. Michiru detached herself from Haruka and answered it.

"Tenoh-San," she said with some surprise. Junko and Haruka both tensed. Michiru listened to a lengthy message, her expression a swirl of surprise and growing hope. "I understand. I'll pass the message along - - when I see her. Tenoh-San, I realize you may not care about what I think, but I think you've made the right decision. Good-bye."

"What is it?" Haruka asked impatiently.

"Junko, that was your father," Michiru told the perplexed teen. "Could you stop by your home, please? Your parents have something they need to tell you."

"I'm not . . ." Junko began to protest, but Michiru gently held up her hand.

"I think you're going to want to hear what they have to say"

Amid the elation and general celebration outside of the Tokyo Dome, with crowds of jubilant fans jumping and yelling, chanting and basking in their sympathetic victory, Rei Hino watched and waited. She had been to the game and understood enough of it to know that Derek's team had won and Derek had contributed.

There was a slight undercurrent of melancholy to her. Several days ago Derek had brought up the subject of playing winter baseball in the Dominican Republic. The thought of being separated from Derek for three months was not a happy thought for the young priest and she wasn't shy about vocalizing her feelings. The only thing that quieted her arguments was the prospect of Derek returning to Tokyo after the Dominican season was over. The Giants had already made overtures to Derek about resigning with them and this championship would only make the team more eager to retain him. So she relented - - reluctantly - - under the unfair influence of his soft lips on her neck and his hand tenderly caressing . . .

"Rei!" she heard Derek call out. Surveying the crowd, the priest spotted him. With moves that would have made a soccer player proud, Rei knifed through the crowd gathering around Derek and jumped into his arms.

"Derek, you won!" Rei exclaimed and pressed her mouth to his. Some sympathetic chuckles came from the throng of well-wishers and they politely backed away a bit. When she finished the kiss, Rei hung by the back of Derek's neck and gazed happily into his face. "Congratulations! You must be very . . ."

And then the blessing and the curse that was her sixth sense read what was on Derek's mind. Instantly her elation transformed to shock.

Though he didn't know of her psychic ability, Derek was by now used to Rei's ability to know things she shouldn't. He eased her to the sidewalk gently.

"Let's go talk in the car," he said to her. "It'll be more private there."

Stunned, Rei allowed herself to be led to Derek's car. It couldn't be true. The Gods couldn't be that cruel, could they?

Ami Mizuno pulled her car into the garage under her apartment building. Expertly guiding the Toyota mid-size into her assigned spot, she shut off the engine. As she got out of the car, Ami mentally reviewed her evening. She had to review the latest investigations of the hospital slasher case with Artemis. If any avenue of investigation presented itself, she had to follow up on it. After that, she needed to review several of her cases to make sure the treatment the patients were receiving was sufficient. If there was time later in the evening, after mundane chores such as cooking and cleaning, Ami would relax with a book she'd just started on quantum physics. And, of course, she allowed some time because she knew she could be interrupted at any time by Usagi with her nightly update on Rei's love life and other things.

That last part made her smile in spite of herself. Usagi had that affect on people.

As she walked across the garage to the elevator, a second set of footsteps echoed softly in the parking garage floor. Alerted by this, Ami stopped and looked around. The footsteps continued. By using the sound, Ami was able to trace where it was coming from. She locked onto a shadowy figure approaching her. Tensely her hand went down to her side and her henshin stick appeared.

Then the figure crossed into a lighted portion of the floor and Ami could see it was Dr. Koda from work. She relaxed as the woman continued to approach. Then a thought struck Ami, that something wasn't right about this scenario. Instantly analyzing the situation, Ami realized that Dr. Koda had no reason to be there and that one of the slasher victims was killed in her own driveway.

"Dr. Koda?" Ami asked warily. "What are you doing here?"

"You're here," Haruki Koda said as she continued to walk steadily, unhurriedly toward Ami. "I need to see you about something."

"What?" Ami queried. Her suspicion was growing by the moment. "Wasn't it something that could have been covered at work?"

"No," Koda said, passing from the light until she was in shadow again. She continued toward Ami with an even pace. "It's something between us."

"Could you be more specific?" Ami demanded. Her grip was tight on her henshin stick and her body was tense, ready to move. All her experience as a senshi was sounding loud warning bells in her mind.

"It's about Dr. Chiba," Koda said. She was nearly upon Ami. Ami backed up a pace, giving ground defensively and retreating from the light to be less of a target - - just in case.

"What about Dr. Chiba?" Ami asked tersely.

"HE'S MINE!" Dr. Koda snapped.

The blade in her hand gleamed suddenly as it entered the light. Ami could see it was a surgical scalpel, the edge of the blade aimed squarely for her carotid artery.

Concluded in Chapter 12