Chapter 3:

As Brenda pulled into her driveway she saw her upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Nagel, loaded down with shopping bags.

"Here, Mrs. Nagel, let me help you with those," she said as she relieved the elderly woman from most of her burden.

"Thank you, Mrs. Howard," she replied gratefully. "I was hoping to avoid making more than one trip up those stairs. I'm afraid that my arthritic knees don't like stairs anymore. I bought a lot of Easter candy on sale," she explained as she stiffly climbed up the steps. "My grandchildren are all teenagers now but I still make up Easter baskets for them every year. My daughter tells me I'm just being silly, but I think the children still appreciate them."

Brenda had long ago given up on correcting her neighbor when she'd called her by the wrong name, and she didn't correct her this time, either. She smiled as she carried the bags up the last few steps and into Mrs. Nagel's kitchen. As she was setting them on the counter, she replied, "I'm sure they still appreciate them, Mrs. Nagel. You never get too old to be given candy. And please, call me Brenda."

But her neighbor had already abandoned the subject of Easter baskets and asked, "May I offer you a cup of tea? We see each other so seldom. It seems that we never have the chance to chat. And I have some fresh chocolate chip cookies."

Since Mrs. Nagel apparently had few visitors and since she had said the magic words, Brenda replied, "Thank you. My husband won't be home from work for a little while so I'd love some cookies and a cup of tea. That's very kind of you."

When they were both seated at the tiny dinette table with the tea pot, delicate china cups and a plate of cookies, the older woman asked, "Do you and Mr. Howard know what you're going to do yet?"

"Do about what, Mrs. Nagel?"

"Please. You must call me Bernice. Why, your apartment, of course," the older woman explained. "Haven't you received your letter yet? I got mine yesterday."

"What letter?"

"Oh, my dear, why the one from CoastProp Management, of course. They bought our whole complex last year."

"Yes, we've been payin' our rent to them since last July, but I don't know anythin' about a letter. Are they raisin' our rent again?"

"No. I'm afraid that it's much worse than that. They're changing our whole complex into condominiums so our leases aren't going to be renewed. We either have to buy our units or move when the leases are up."

"This is the first I'm hearin' about this. Does the letter say when we have to let them know our decision?"

"We have to either sign a commitment agreement or notify them that we're moving sixty days before our leases expire."

"And, let me guess… They're askin' a lot more money for our units than they're worth."

"Perhaps. It does seem that they're asking a lot for this apartment but I don't know anything about the real estate market these days. Besides, I'm at the age where I really need something on the first floor. That's why I'm wondering what you're going to do."

The puzzle pieces fell into place. "Are you hopin' we'll move so you can buy our unit?"

"Well… frankly, yes, my dear. The thought had occurred to me. I called the manager and he said that he isn't sure that he'll have a first floor unit for me. Apparently other tenants have asked him about them and he doesn't know yet how many first floor units he'll have available. Oh, I know it sounds terrible. You and Mr. Howard have been good neighbors. You're quiet, polite, and Mr. Howard was so kind when I needed help with my new TV. And your cooking doesn't even set off the smoke alarm nearly as often as Mrs. Butler's did. But considering…"

"Considerin' what, Mrs. Na… Bernice?"

"Well, there was that dreadful shooting in your apartment just a few months ago. Why, I had to take extra heart pills for days."

"I'm so sorry about that, but it wasn't my fault. A man broke in and tried to kill me."

"Yes, but he was someone you knew, was he not?"

"Well, yes. But he certainly wasn't a friend of mine. And he's in jail now so you don't have to worry about him. He's not comin' back."

Brenda's words sounded foreign to her. She couldn't believe they were coming from her mouth. But now was not the time to think about Phillip Stroh so she pushed past that thought and continued. "We haven't talked about what we're gonna do, so I guess the first thing is to read the letter." When she saw the rising tide of hope begin to ebb from Bernice's face, she quickly added, "But if we do decide to buy, I'm sure there will be another first floor unit available. And my husband and I will be happy to help you move. Mmm… These cookies are delicious."

As soon as Brenda unlocked her door she headed straight for the mail and saw the letter from the management company unfolded on the dining room table. Fritz has already seen it. I wonder why he didn't say anythin' about it. She quickly read it. It confirmed everything that Mrs. Nagel had said: they must either commit to buying their condo by April 1st, or vacate the premises by the time their present lease expires on May 31st.

Brenda set the letter back down on the dining room table and busied herself dragging out ingredients to make dinner. She smiled as she thought, I'll bet this is the night my cookin' sets off the smoke alarm. That thought caused her to put the ingredients back and pull out the spaghetti pot instead. I have never burned spaghetti, she reasoned. She had the meat balls cooking and the water in the spaghetti pot boiling when Fritz came through the door so she stopped what she was doing and greeted him with a kiss.

"I see you found the letter," Fritz observed as he set the table.

"Yes. Actually, Bernice Nagel told me all about it first. She's askin' what we're gonna do. I think she's hopin' to buy this place. But why didn't you say anythin' to me about it?"

"You had already left for work when I saw it. What do you want to do?"

"I'm not ready to move yet, but you already know that. Why don't we buy this place? We can always sell it later on if we want to move."

"Because the asking price for it is inflated, especially since the letter says we'd have to pay association fees, too. We could buy a house for what we'd need to continue living here. And if we were to buy this place we probably wouldn't be able to get all of our money back."

"Well, we don't have to make a decision tonight. Let's eat." And with that pronouncement, Brenda exercised her long-standing habit of stuffing a looming, unpleasant decision back into the furthest cubby hole of her mind.

That night, Brenda once again awoke with a start. Her heart was racing. Fritz was asleep beside her but, despite his peaceful slumber, she knew the truth: he was back. She quietly got out of bed, pausing when her movement caused Fritz to stir in his sleep. She moved to the dresser in order to retrieve her gun, but it was missing. Then she remembered that it was in her purse in the kitchen.

The whole scene started to play out in her mind again. But there was something different this time. She wasn't the victim. Stroh had attacked Bernice Nagel instead. As she moved quietly from the bedroom to the kitchen, Brenda realized that she was not in the throes of another flashback. She had had a nightmare. But she still had to check to make sure the bathroom window and screen were secure before climbing back into bed. And still Fritz slept. Maybe this means I'm doin' better, she thought. At least Fritzi is gettin' more sleep.

The following morning, while Fritz was getting dressed for work, Brenda went to the computer and pulled up her word processing program. She entered the narrative of her dream in the journal of sorts that she had started in order to preserve the details, just as Dr. Leonard had suggested. When she had finished, she noted with great satisfaction that this was her only entry so far. Maybe those pills are startin' to work.

Then, while they ate, she told Fritz about her nightmare. "But the most important thing to me is that I recognized that it wasn't real and I was able to go back to sleep. And I never disturbed you. So I think I'm doin' better." The warm glow of pride colored her words.

Fritz leaned over and kissed her forehead, "I'm proud of you."

Late that morning, Brenda was deep in the weeds of a case file when she heard a knock on her door. "Got a minute?" Andrea Hobbs asked.

"Sure, come on in," Brenda smiled at her.

When Andrea was seated in front of her desk, she said, "I didn't know DDA Sorenson was coming to you. I want to thank you for taking her to task."

"I was afraid that I was too hard on her," Brenda replied.

"No, not at all. Actually, you told her exactly what I would have said. But she should have come to me first and I've taken that up with her."

"She wasn't very happy after our meetin' so I rather doubt she'll come to me again anytime soon."

"I'm having a hard time with her. She has excellent courtroom skills but she's headstrong and very difficult to supervise. So I was actually happy to hear that you had reinforced what I've been telling her all along about dealing with Dan Hart and his lawyers."

"You know, I never asked her if she'd spoken to you about that case first. I should have and I'm sorry about that. I'm glad you're not upset."

No, quite the contrary. I think it might have done some good to hear it coming from you. I'm afraid I'm starting to sound like a broken record to her."

"Andrea, I'm perfectly willin' to help her if I can. But I honestly don't think anythin' can be done at this point. It looks to me like she's gonna crash and burn with this one."

"I think she probably will too. And that's not something I want on either one of our records. But you're right. There really isn't anything that we can do about it at this stage of the game."

Brenda nodded in agreement. She felt bad for Andrea because she knew that this colossal failure would be a black mark on Andrea's record as well as DDA Sorenson's. And her guilt feelings from the other night's rejected dinner invitation revisited her. "Well, it's water under the bridge now, I'm afraid. Listen, it's almost noon and I'm starvin'. Would you like to get lunch with me? My treat."

Andrea smiled. "I'd love to, but you don't have to treat."

"I want to. It's my way of sayin' thanks for invitin' me to try Zumba the other night."

"All right, I accept. Where do you want to go?"

"Your choice," Brenda replied as she grabbed her purse.

Fritz was coming home from a late night in the field when his cell phone rang. It was Brenda telling him that she needed his help and demanding that he hurry home. She told him that Agent Myers had gone after Marisol again and they were all in the kitchen. Fritz sped up and saw Agent Myers' van parked in front of the duplex as he pulled into the driveway. He grabbed his automatic rifle and opened his own back door just as Agent Myers and Marisol became Stroh and Brenda. Once more, it felt like he was swimming through glue, unable to fire his weapon. And Stroh was killing Brenda.

Fritz woke up suddenly and sat upright. He knew he had had his old nightmare again. His skin was sweaty and clammy and he was breathing heavily. After his breathing returned to normal he looked over at Brenda and was relieved to see that she was sleeping peacefully beside him. He watched her for a minute thinking that, as familiar as his dream was, there was something different about it. He used his pajama top to rub the perspiration from his face, then realized that the difference was that his inability to protect Brenda by shooting Stroh took place in the kitchen of his own duplex. He remembered that Dr. Leonard had instructed him to write down all the details of his dreams so he quietly got up, washed, and changed his perspiration-soaked pajamas before going into the living room in order to record the details on his computer. When he finished he went back to bed, smiling when he saw that Brenda was still sleeping peacefully.

After they were once again seated on the office couch, Dr. Leonard asked if they had experienced any more flashbacks or nightmares since their last appointment.

"I had my old dream the other night," Fritz responded, "And I wrote it down but I forgot to bring the printout with me."

"As long as you remember the details you don't need to bring a copy with you. Tell me about it."

"It was pretty much the same thing," he began, "The only difference was that it took place in our kitchen, not at the actual site where I had to shoot Agent Myers."

"Why do you think it took place in your house?"

"I'm sure I was thinking about Brenda's account of her attack."

"I didn't know you'd had another nightmare. Why didn't you tell me about it?" Brenda asked.

"You were gone by the time I got up the next morning. And later I just didn't think about it. I wasn't deliberately hiding it from you," he replied defensively.

"You still should have told me about it. I want to know when somethin' like that happens to you."

"I know you do, and you're right. I should have told you. But, like I said, I honestly didn't think about it again. If I hadn't remembered to write down the details, I still probably wouldn't have thought about it."

"Fritz, were you afraid that if you described your nightmare to Brenda that it would trigger more of her flashbacks?"

"No, not really. Well, maybe. She's doing so much better and I don't want to be the cause of her slipping back into them."

"The aftermath of Stroh's attack is a problem for both of you and you need to discuss every aspect of it with each other."

"I understand. I'm not trying to keep things from her. But, well… I'm just not sure how much she can take," he admitted

"I can certainly take listenin' to your dreams. Don't shut me out. That's what you always accuse me of doin'."

"Is that what happened, Fritz? Did you shut Brenda out?"

"No. At least I didn't think I was doing that."

"Well, it sure feels like that's what you were doin'," Brenda retorted.

"Not only is it important to you to discuss your nightmares with your wife, it's important to her, as well. She's no wilting flower. She can take it. And sharing your experiences, all your experiences will strengthen you both. So, if it's not convenient to discuss your nightmares with Brenda the next morning, you need to come up with a reminder to discuss them at the first opportunity."

He saw the truth in what Dr. Leonard was saying, as well as the strength and determination on Brenda's face, and replied, "I will. I can print them off and put them on the dining room table where we'll both see them."

"That would be a good reminder. But make sure that you follow up with a discussion."

Fritz nodded, "I will."

"Good. What about you, Brenda? Have you had any more flashbacks or nightmares?"

"No more flashbacks. But I had a nightmare last week."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, I dreamed that Stroh was back in my house strugglin' with me. Only this time I realized that I was watchin' it from a distance instead of bein' down on the floor fightin'. And then I realized that the woman he was tryin' to kill wasn't me. It was the woman who lives upstairs."

"Why do you think you dreamed that she was the one being attacked?"

"That afternoon she had told me that our complex is bein' turned into condos and we have to either buy our unit or move. And she said that she might be interested in buyin' our apartment."

"Did you discuss your nightmare with Fritz?"

"Yes, I told him about it, and I wrote the details down so I'd remember them. But we've been talkin' mainly about whether we want to buy our duplex or move."

"Is that creating a conflict for the two of you?"

"No. At least not anythin' new. I don't want to move until I conquer my flashbacks," Brenda explained.

"So the two of you are still living in the same apartment where you were attacked?"

"Fritz has been wantin' us to move ever since Stroh broke in," Brenda admitted, "But I feel like I need to lick these flashbacks first."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Well, Doctor, I guess I don't want to feel like they drove me away. That would feel like he won. And I'm not gonna give him any kind of a victory," she said emphatically.

"I see. How do you feel about that, Fritz?"

"I don't think it's good for us to stay there. I think Brenda's flashbacks might ease up if she didn't see Phillip Stroh every time she walks into our kitchen. I think I'd spend less time thinking about the attack, too. And I'm afraid that the closer we get to the trial, the worse it's going to be for both of us."

"Brenda, is it possible that continuing to live in the same place where the attack took place is actually fueling your flashbacks?"

Brenda shrugged. "All I know is that I am in that kitchen several times every day but I don't have a flashback every day. So I feel like I'm winnin'."

Fritz shook his head, "Forcing yourself to stay in that environment is probably making the flashbacks that you do have worse, though." When he saw Brenda's annoyed expression he turned elsewhere looking for an ally. "What do you think, Doctor?"

"Brenda, I want you to think about this: it's not a sign of weakness to remove yourself from the scene of the crime. You wouldn't be waving the white flag. In fact, it would be a sign that you can make good decisions to take care of yourself."

"Wavin' the white flag… That's exactly how I think about it."

"During the next few days, I'd like you to consider that moving might be a very healthy thing that you could do for yourself."

Fritz turned to Brenda, "And for me, too. Ever since you described your attack in detail, I think about it every time I walk into the kitchen and I get sick all over again. It would be nice to be able to walk around our home without dragging the baggage of Phillip Stroh along."

Brenda acknowledged his statement with a nod but said nothing.

"How does what Fritz just said sound to you?"

"I understand his feelin's. I do. And I have to consider movin' anyway since we got that letter."

"You wanted to move when your mother died, remember?" Fritz reminded her.

"But when we got home and I made myself sit in the guest room, everythin' changed. It was painful, but I wasn't afraid to face it anymore."

Fritz reassured her, "You can handle this too."

"Brenda, do you feel you can handle moving?"

"Yes, of course. I've had to handle movin' several times before. And I hated it then, too. I just don't like change."

"Why don't you and Fritz sit down and list all the pros and cons of staying where you are and the same thing for moving? That might help you to decide," Dr. Leonard suggested. "And pay special attention to any feelings that arise about Stroh and his attack."

That night while Brenda watched TV, Fritz was hunched over his laptop. Finally he looked over the screen at her. "Honey, can you come here for a minute? I'd like you to see this."

"What is it?" she asked as she moved around behind him so she could see the screen, too.

"These are just some of the houses for sale in our price range."

"You're absolutely determined, aren't you?"

"It's the right thing for us, honey."

She looked at his calm, reassuring face then sighed, "Wait a minute, I don't have my glasses," and she retrieved them from her purse. Walking back into the room she leaned over him and asked, "All those? Are you sure they're in our price range?"

"Yes, they are."

"Where are they? Oregon?"

"Pasadena, Glendale… even Monrovia. Most are right around here."

"Really?" she leaned in to look at the pictures and read the descriptions. "Fritzi, these are all four bedroom homes."

"I think that's the way to go because…"

"Why on earth do we need so many bedrooms? Are you plannin' to rent two of them out?"

"We need at least two bedrooms. But I thought it would be nice to have a real office, and a spare room for storage."

"Uh huh," she replied in a tone which conveyed her suspicion that he was no longer tethered to reality.

"We won't have the additional storage unit that we have here so we have to have someplace to store things. Besides, if we had a separate room for an office now, Charlie wouldn't have to sleep on the couch. We could put a day bed, or even an air mattress, in there."

She ignored him and turned her attention back to the computer, studying the houses on the screen. "Oh, I like the looks of that one. Does it have four bedrooms, too?"

"No, that one has five."

"Well, that's just ridiculous. We're not cleanin' all those bedrooms, or payin' taxes on that much house," she pronounced. "What about this one?"

"That one has four bedrooms, but the yard is entirely concrete. No grass. It would get mighty hot in the summer. Besides, I want a lawn, with real grass and trees. I want to be able to plant things. But, on the plus side, it has a pool. See?" Fritz clicked the mouse and advanced to a photograph of the yard showing a small pool.

"That's not even as big as a mud puddle," Brenda sneered.

"Here, why don't you sit down and go through the rest of them and see if there's any you would like to see," he suggested, getting up so she could have his seat.

"If we have to do this, can we at least find another realtor? Surely 'Gary-Doesn't-Lie' Evans isn't the only realtor in LA."

"Actually, Gary Evans has a very high success rate. That's why I chose him."

"Humph. Probably because he's so annoyin'. People will buy anythin' to get rid of him."

"We can find another realtor if you're really willing to consider moving. But I don't want to waste someone's time if you're not."

"Let me look at these listin's first, ok?" and she turned away from him and clicked the mouse.

"Ok," he said as he pulled a chair up beside her so they could look together.

By bedtime Brenda had reluctantly agreed that she would look at three properties on the weekend.

Even though she disliked having to spend her free time this way, Brenda found herself sitting in Carol Franklin's office Saturday morning while the realtor gathered information on the type of house they were searching for.

"Ideally, we'd like a four bedroom ranch home in excellent condition, with a large lot, and within a fifteen or twenty minute drive of downtown Los Angeles," Fritz was explaining.

"And it has to be in a safe neighborhood," Brenda added.

"Of course," Mrs. Franklin smiled, "I can see that from the printouts you brought with you. Although, I happen to know that one of those houses has some serious structural problems which would probably place the total cost outside your price range. And one has a kitchen which badly needs updating."

"We don't want anything requiring extensive repairs, Mrs. Franklin," Fritz explained. "But I don't mind working on smaller issues later."

"Please. Call me Carol." Her smile was warm, and aimed at Fritz. So warm that Brenda was amused.

"Because of our workin' hours we don't do a lot of cookin'," Brenda broke in to break Carol's tractor beam on her husband. "But we still need a functional kitchen."

"I think I can arrange to show you these two remaining properties and I can find others for you, as well. When would be a good time to show them to you?"

"Would it be possible to see at least these two properties today?" Fritz asked.

"Let me call and see. Also, there is another property not too far from one of them that we might also be able to see."

"Wonderful," Brenda replied without smiling.

The following week, while driving back from seeing more houses, Fritz asked, "Well, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinkin' that 'great room' is just a snobby way of sayin' 'livin' room'."

"I mean what did you think of the houses?"

"None of them are perfect, but I liked the second one the best. What did you think?"

"I think I liked the third one the best."

"But the guest bedroom in that one is a loft. Daddy can't climb those stairs."

"Why not? He climbs stairs every day now."

"But he won't be able to for much longer."

"We could use the loft for an office, or for storage."

"No. The loft is open so our stuff would be in constant view. And I want everythin' on one floor."

"Ok, Carol said she'd do some more checking for us and we can continue to check at home, too."

Brenda leaned back. Fritz has his heart set on buyin' a house so I'm really gonna be movin'. She realized that, as much as she dreaded it, she had to get ready.

To be continued…

Once again, your review is important. Please…

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