Here's the next bit. And yes, it's still the dinner scene. As mentioned before, dinner scenes are just so so hard to write. And so much so when actions are small. I pondered a long while about this, whether or not to finish this bit or to jump back to the consortium. But I decided I really do not like loose ends, and it is time to bring to the open what happened six years ago.

And I really really wanted to apologize for taking this long when you guys had taken the effort to write such wonderful reviews. I must confess that I had thought this story was not quite working out, and so started to work on a Halloween Horror-Mystery in hope that it would be more successful. Gingerbread House should be done soon, with Halloween so close, so I can come back to focus on this again, that is, if you guys are still interested.

Robin: I'm sorry I can't exactly promise a 'gut-wrenching' story. I've tried and have to admit I don't seem to be able to hit the heartstrings very well. But I can promise poignant and sad and uplifting and tragic and suspenseful pending on chapters.

franknjoe, Mel30: Thanks. I will try The story's finished, I just had to write it out in proper narratives that makes it interesting to read. That's the hard part, I think.

PK: yeah this is one story I had full character profiles for every name that appeared in addition to a detailed chronological story-board. And I had to forget that one miserable character. sighs

Please do continue to be as generous and as supportive

I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night

Chapter 13

Dinner was where everything comes together. It was when the past crashed into the present, and where the present set the path for the future… –Jolly

HBHBHB

47

Dear Lord, the past had caught up with them!

That was the first thought that shot through Frank's mind the moment he stepped back into the dining room where he left Cal.

Before him was the face of a man he thought he'd never forget.

Yet forget he did over the course of six long years. And from the moment he knew his brother was still in the world of living, he forgot that face totally. How could he? Frank berated himself as those painful memories again flashed before him. And now Callie might pay the price for his lapse…

The gunman was he; the man who lured him and Joe up the cliffs that stormy night so many years ago.

Now that man stood before him, a gun pressed firmly to Cal's temple, his red-rimmed and embittered eyes glaring daggers at them all. That man whose hunger for vengeance had led to Joe's fall from the cliffs into the stormy seas. The man who saved his life only to leave him living and grieving.

Frank never found out who that man was or what he and Joe did to make him so bitter and vengeful. That they killed his brother was the only clue Frank had from that fateful night. He had gone through the entire list of all his and Joe's and Dad's enemies who had a brother who died. There was only a handful of possible suspects, and none of them were anywhere near Bayport that night. None of them even fit the description he was able to provide.

"I see you remember me, Frank…" The man grated out in his hoarse and scratchy voice.

Frank let his eyes locked with Callie's for a short moment before turning his full attention to the man who held her captive by her throat. Don't worry; I'll get you out of this unhurt, he tried to tell her with his eyes.

His heart lightened when Cal returned a little smile.

"Why?" Frank queried curtly.

The man let out a half strangled cackle of a laugh, which was quickly followed by a series of dry wracking coughs. His grip on Callie tightened uncontrollably for an instant, causing her to struggle for breath.

Frank's eyes widened a little as he realized that man was sick. Very sick, Frank added, as he noted the thin gangly frame, the sallow skin and those large watery bright eyes that looked half crazed with pain.

This does not bode well for Cal, Frank knew as he worked to hold the gunman's attention. Time, he needed to buy time. But time for what? He did not have anyone he could trust to make the moves as he play the distraction game. Then he saw from his peripheral vision that 'Paul' was stealthily making his way across the room, and his heart lifted just a little.

He continued playing the victim and pleaded with the gunman in controlled measured tones. "Is it not enough the pain you put us through? Why are you doing this? Who are you?"

"Enough? What do you know of pain? I grieve every day for him, I hurt every day… You guys sent my step brother to prison and he died in there. Do you even know his name? Or was he just another boy you sent to jail to make your name? Merrick Bowen died for trying to get some cash so I can continue getting my medical treatment." He spat out.

Merrick Bowen? Who the heck was that?

"But I even the score, didn't I. Your little brother slipped and fell into the Great South Bay and died; I did not even have to kill him." He gloated.

Frank flinched a little at that memory. He could still see his brother falling, falling, as he watched helplessly.

"For a while, I was satisfied. I watch you hurting, Frank. And that was fair enough for me." The gunman laughed.

He was watching and we didn't even notice?! Of course not, we were grieving. I was grieving.

And then his voice turned ugly. "But then you forgot… you forgot about your brother and carry on living… now you're happy again and planning to get married…"

"I never forgot my brother," Frank stated. "I chose to live on, for him."

The man ignored Frank and raged on, "how can you be happy when I still hurt?! No! You cannot be happy; you're not allowed to be happy! And I know exactly how to make sure that you'll never be happy again…"

His finger tightened on the trigger and Callie's eyes widened in terror.

"No!" Frank yelled as he leapt forward in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable.

But someone step firmly before him and blocked his move.

The gunman froze. His pale face turned whiter. He looked shocked. He looked as if he saw a ghost. He saw Joe, it finally registered with Frank.

"You! You were supposed to be dead! I'll make sure you're dead this time." The man gasped in fear as he removed the gun from Callie's temple and aimed it instead at 'Joe'…

No…

And Frank realized he wasn't the only one who screamed that.

48

I watched Frank distract the gunman as I slowly inched my way closer towards Callie from the side. I knew not why but I knew that was what I was supposed to be doing. It was as if I have done this before with Frank. He distracts, I moved. I distracts, he moved. It's a partnership thing.

It's common sense, right?

But now was not the time to speculate, Callie's life was at stake. I shove my personal questions aside and focused on the situation before me. I needed to get behind that guy. And quickly too!

Then I noted the change in tone and knew with a sinking heart that we're almost out of time. I was still too far away… but wait, was that someone in the shadows?

Yes!

"… make sure you'll never be happy again…" I heard the gunman raged and saw his fingers curled tighter around the trigger.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frank tensing to move forward and knew he would never make it.

We're out of time.

Still, there was one more thing I could try that might buy us all just enough time. The man in the shadows would definitely go for that opening which I could give him. I knew I looked like Joe, but would the gunman? After all, he did say he was somehow linked to Joseph's death. But that was a risky move. So, should I? Then I realized that was a moot point. I would never let anyone else be hurt if I knew I had even the tiniest chance of helping.

And for Frank, I knew I would do a lot more. I took a deep breath and step into the full view of the gunman. At the same time, I blocked Frank's forward leap. I could almost smile at Frank's frustration as he bumped into my back.

My gamble worked, somewhat.

Have you ever felt when a second in time dragged on and on, so packed with activities that it was as if it was a day that just happened?

The gunman froze for a second, and my long day begun.

That man in the shadows took the opening I provided, just as I expected. He made a flying tackle for that hand with the gun, which by then pointed right at me. I could feel my heart literally stopped when I stared into the dark barrel of that gun.

No, it did not stop. It pounded, harder than I ever remembered. I could almost feel my ribcage wincing in pain. I swore then and there I would never again step voluntarily into the path of an armed gun. Yet I knew as soon as the words formed in my mind, that I lied. I would do that again in an instant for any of my loved ones.

My eyed followed the actions of that man in the shadows as he jerked the gunman's gun hand upwards towards the ceiling. He did it! And by the time that gunman pulled the trigger, the bullet ricochet harmlessly into the ceiling above us. Bits of shattered cement rained down on me as I leapt forward and close the distance between me and Callie. I reached out with one hand to twist the wrist of the gunman that held Callie's throat captive, and used the other to pull her towards me and into my arms. Then I turn around to shield her with my body in case the gunman gets another chance at the gun.

I could only hope that no one was hurt.

The room went quiet, and the next second ticked by.

Then there were heavy breathing.

Soon the heavy breathing was punctuated by a pitiful moan. That was from the gunman. He was clutching his belly and groaning in pain. I could not help a tiny bit of sympathy. He was sick, and that blow must have hurt. But I could not make myself go over to help him. My anger towards him was still too strong.

He wanted to hurt Frank.

My own vehemence towards that fact surprised me. Why should that fact illicit that level of emotions in me? After all, I barely knew my dear cousin Frank and only just met Callie and Aunt Laura. And I knew from the dossier such happenings were not unexpected for this family since both father and son were engage in that dangerous profession.

Would I risk my family that way simply by choice of profession? I suddenly wondered.

Oh well, who was I kidding? I had to swallow a little laugh. I am already risking mine and Ehla's life. I supposed the difference was that both I and Ehla were equal partners when we made our decision to back the Consortium and their Cause. We made that choice together the day grandpa told us about it…

Something flickered at the back of my mind. Then that was gone, forgotten.

I frowned. What was I thinking? It could not be anything of importance if I could not remember. Somehow I knew I always remembered the important details. I was trained for that from the day I was born, I could almost attest to that…

I blinked furiously several times. I shook my head and felt like I lost something…

What?

"Good work, Joe…" A familiar voice roused me from my thoughts.

Joe?

I swiveled round to face the man talking to me. Dark reddish hair on a tanned kindly face with friendly hazel eyes smiled back at me. Then he suddenly looked apologetic.

"Sorry… you must be Paul, Frank's cousin." He said. "I'm Sam Radley, Fenton's partner and business associate."

Sam held out his hands. I stared at it for a moment before taking it.

The room, the similarities… it's starting to freak me out… I'm starting to really dislike this Joe person. And I wished everyone would stop looking at me as if they were seeing a ghost…

We exchanged a casual handshake. I noted that Sam's grip was firm, the handshake brief and definite. His hands were rough and calloused. The man before me had a strong character and was used to doing the real work rather than simply delegating. From his actions in saving Callie, I concluded that there was no question as to his affiliation to the Hardys. I knew instinctively I would have to keep him high on my watch list, especially where Frank was concerned.

I smiled and strike up a conversation with him. But what I really wanted to know was: why was he here this late on a Sunday evening?

49

Frank held Callie close as he watched Sam secure the gunman with the ropes his mom provided. He could still feel Callie sobbing and trembling against his chest. She was clearly still in shock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ehla holding on just as tightly to 'Paul'.

His heart was still pounding hard against his ribs. First he thought he's going to have to watch Callie get killed right before his eyes in his parents' dining room. Then, barely a minute later, he thought he was getting a ring-side seat to witnessing his brother's execution.

That was just far too much excitement for one night.

For a short moment, Frank buried his face in Callie's hair, and let the scent of her shampoo sooth away a part of his jagged nerves. He could hear his mother on the phone talking to the police. He was contented to let every one else handle the situation for a while.

That was a close call. Thank God Sam was here.

Then it hit Frank.

Sam came to their house; he did not wait for tomorrow morning.

Frank paled. It could only mean one thing. Something must have happened to Dad…

50

We left for home very much later. We waited for the police to come and gave our statements before leaving.

I bid Aunt Laura a goodnight and promised that I would come visiting again soon. She looked most reluctant to let me leave. To be honest, I was a little reluctant to leave her too. She's very motherly. I missed that and I wanted that.

I let Ehla drove us home, and watched without seeing, the buildings and cars and street lights that flash by me.

My mind was busy trying to make sense of the multitude of events that happened this evening. There were just too many things that bothered me. I acknowledged that the answers could be simple. It could be a simple case of my amnesia. My memories go back only six years, and everything before that was a blank. That fact never really bothered me until tonight. I did felt that a part of me was incomplete at times. But I have had a happy life and had wanted for nothing.

Yet tonight…

My instinctive knowledge and familiarity with Bayport and the Hardy house bothered me. Yet I knew that there was a simple explanation. My mom and Laura were sisters and we lived in the States before moving to London. We probably visited each other's homes regularly.

Perhaps grandpa could give me some of the answers I seek. Surely he would know. I felt better knowing that there was still someone I could depend on for some general questions about my past. But I still wished my parents were still alive. They would able to tell me about my past, they would know.

I missed them.

I laughed a little at those thoughts. It did not take long for that smile to turn into a frown.

My uncanny resemblance to Joseph Hardy bothered me. But not as much as the fact that I felt I knew him very well, and that we shared many similar character straits and tastes. Right down to the specifics, like classic cars.

Then there was this fact that he died at about the time when I had my accident and suffered permanent amnesia. For some reason, I felt like he died so that I lived. Now, that was unreasonable, I know. But I just could not help a sense of guilt about that. It was as if God was flipping a coin to decide who had the right to live, and I won. So I lived and Joseph left.

Finally, there was this bit of information that was not in the dossier that I got today. That bothered me most of all. That gunman said that Joseph fell and died in the Great South Bay. That was where I got hurt and lost my past.

There were just too many strange occurrences and too many coincidences.

I shook my head to clear it of those morose thoughts.

Ehla shot me a concerned glance, and I told her I was fine and not to worry. She did not look convinced. Heck, even I am not convinced!

"This is a very exciting night, isn't it?" Ehla suddenly commented. "The dossiers aren't kidding when they said the Hardys had plenty of enemies. So many one had to make an appearance on the one night we chose to join them for dinner."

I simply shrugged and replied: "They are good at what they do."

Ehla was quiet for a moment. I could see her chewing her lower lips. She always does that when she was nervous or uneasy about something. I waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"You're really going to leave with Frank tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "Fenton's gone missing investigating my parents' death; it's really the least I could do to offer Frank whatever resources I could. It'll be easier flying around in our private jet rather than having to depend on commercial flight schedules. And I do want to know what really happened to mom and dad..."

"Do you think your grandpa would let you go?" She asked a little more hesitantly this time.

"He will have to. I'm not going to let Frank head over there alone!" That protective tone in my voice surprised me and I hastily added. "I certainly want to know who killed my father, and he can't tell me that he's not interested in who murdered his son."

Ehla nodded, but I could see that she was still concerned about something.

"Don't worry, love. Worse come to worse, grandpa's going to insist I take Albert along with me. And I could also take the opportunity to touch base with some of our European shipping clients and consortium members while flying around Europe. It'll be a work and more work trip…"

"Can I come along?" Ehla suddenly cut in.

Without waiting for me to answer, she blabbered on, and I knew something was really bothering her.

"I mean, dear, that I would love visit London. You know, to go back to our old haunts and remember the old days. Visit our old professors back in Oxford and such…" Ehla's voice slowly faded off as she resumed chewing her lower lips.

I smiled, and that smile grew wider as I remembered some of those happy moments. I turned to watch her drive. I noted how the light from the streets illuminated her face, shining through her soft brown hair giving it a soft glow surrounding her head like a golden halo. Suddenly I felt a little guilty. So much had happened in the last five months since my parents died. The grieving, the recovering, giving up on our jobs and moving over to the States, settling into a new place, getting new jobs, and then finally learning about the consortium.

It had been a very intense period of our lives.

She needed a break away from all that. It would be lovely having her along. And perhaps I could sneak in a bit of fun and throw in some romance somewhere, just for her. She deserves it.

"Of course! I would love to have you come along." Then my smile turned mischievous. "And perhaps we could bring Frank to some of our old haunts and convinced him that some of the whacky stories we told today were true."

Ehla laughed and I joined her. It was good to see her looking more relaxed now. And a sweet happy smile now graced her face as she drove. I could happily watch that serene smile forever.

Then suddenly that smile faded off and she turned serious.

"You know something else, Paul? For a moment I was really scared that you were going with Frank just to get closer to him…"

I turned and stared at her, shocked. But she was right, that would have been scary. I felt suddenly chilled as I acknowledged a certain truth in her words, that I could have done exactly what she said.

Yes, we could have done just that.

I looked into her eyes for a moment and saw the same fear there; the knowledge that we've changed somewhat, that joining the consortium had changed us somehow.

And that change might not be for the better.

At the next red light, I reached over and gave her a quick tight hug. It was a hug that felt somewhat desperate. Perhaps that trip back home to London was just what we needed to touch base with our old selves again.

"I won't change, I promised." I whispered into her ear. "We've never believed in ends justifying means, and we'll never stoop down that low, ever."

Then the light turned green, and life carries on.

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