Lucinda's New Life

Lucinda stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. Her head was still spinning. She wasn’t accustomed to decisions, much less making them under pressure. After taking the envelope, Mr. Stamps had just disappeared. She’d walked out of the conference room into the office, but it was empty, not so much as a sheet of paper on a desk or a sign on the wall.

She clutched the envelope, as she had the whole elevator ride… opening it again and looking at the money. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a hundred-dollar bill… and now she had two hundred of them in her hand.

Looking up, she saw the Rolls-Royce parked ahead of her, the driver, Thompson stood next to the door, holding it. Not Mr. Thompson, just Thompson, he’d told her.

“Would you like a ride Miss Hall?” Thompson asked.

“It’s Mrs. Stevens,” she replied.

“No, Ma’am. You are Miss Hall, Miss Lucinda Hall.”

“That’s my maiden name… I’ve been a Stevens for a long time.”

He was still holding the door as she approached. She reached into her purse, pushing aside the black notebook and pulled out her wallet. She didn’t know why, but she felt like she needed to prove herself. She opened it up. She hadn’t renewed her license, but it had her name and her picture.

She pulled it out and held it up to his face.

“Yes, Ma’am… Lucinda Hall,” he said, his British accent calm and even.

She spun the license around.

Lucinda Melanie Hall

43 S Moore Rd NW

Ocean Shores

That’s all wrong, she thought to herself. That isn’t where I live… not even close. I’ve never lived there.

“This isn’t right… I don’t even know where that is,” she said to Thompson as she collapsed into the rear seat of the expensive luxury car.

“I picked you up there a few hours ago, Miss Hall,” he replied. “Are you ok? Shall I pick up some food for you… you do look a little pale.”

“Take me to Gulf Breeze Trailer Park, please, Mr. Thompson,” she asked quietly.

“It’s just Thompson, Ma’am… and do you have an address? I’m afraid it isn’t on the GPS.”

“I’m sorry, Thompson… It’s off Biscayne Road.” She blushed. She knew he preferred just the one name.

He closed the door and she heard him get into the front. A moment later she could feel the car pulling out of the parking deck. She spent the next 35 minutes watching the tall buildings go by, then the low-rise buildings. Next, they drove past a few stately homes, and shortly after that, they were driving through the run-down commercial district she knew so well.

Thompson turned the Rolls-Royce into the trailer park and stopped.

“Space thirty-five, back on the right,” Lucinda told him.

He navigated the large car through the narrow gravel lane, stopping again a moment later. He came around and opened the door for her and she stepped out.

“This isn’t right…”

“Number thirty-five, Miss Hall,” he said, his hand steadying her as she suddenly felt weak. “Ma’am, let me help you back into the car.”

She was aware of what was happening around her. She could see the trailer parked in space thirty-five, and despite it looking like it hadn’t moved in years, it was not the one she’d been in that morning. She looked around in a daze as Thompson gently helped her back in the seat of the car.

“Miss Hall?” Thompson said, concern clouding his voice. “Can you hear me? Would you like some water?” He reached into the champagne well behind the front seats and pulled an ice-cold bottle of water out. He twisted off the top and helped her take a sip.

She sat up and whipped open her purse and yanked out the black notebook. It’s in here, she thought, my address, my name, everything.

Lucinda Hall,

Wages and Watson, Attorneys at Law, request your presence tomorrow at 9:00am for our quarterly business meeting. If you have any questions, please contact our office any time of the day or night.

Regards,

Lyle Watson

“It’s all changed,” she said, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “You picked me up here this morning… this book… it changed.” Her voice was halting and unsteady. “I lived here, but the trailer is different. I have a husband. His name is Whit Stevens.”

“No, Ma’am. I picked you up at home this morning to take you to an appointment with your lawyer. I picked you up at 8:25 for your 9:00 meeting, as usual. And you’ve never been married, Miss Hall. I’ve been your driver since you were fourteen. I’ll go ask if they know anyone named Whit Stevens, though, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she squeaked.

Thompson gently closed the door and walked toward the trailer. Lucinda looked down at the book again and flipped it open to the last page. The messages counting down were still there, but there was a new passage.

You never married Whit. He isn’t here. You have a new life, Lucinda. Embrace it and enjoy it.

Thompson opened the door again, “I’m sorry, Miss Hall, the man who answered the door said he’s been here six years and he’s never heard of Whit Stevens. Would you like me to take you home? Or perhaps to lunch… you only had a little bit to eat this morning. I’m at your service, Miss Hall.”

“I don’t have a home. Don’t you understand. THAT was my home.”

Thompson leaned in the car as Lucinda started to shake with frustration, fear and the futility of her situation. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Once again, she saw the jagged scar under his eye, the one she’d seen that morning. But as she looked into his eyes, just as she had that morning when she had been nervously getting into the car, he calmed her. She could see the concern and softness of his expression.

“You do, Miss. I promise. Let’s get you some food. What would you like?”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said reassuringly.

He pulled away from her and stepped out of the car, closing her door behind him. A moment later the car settled as he stepped into the front seat. She laid her head back against the headrest and Thompson pulled away from the trailer.

Relax, Lucinda.

It will work out.

You can have the life you deserved.

Be strong.

She slipped the black notebook back into her purse and closed her eyes. A moment later, she was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Lucinda awoke as the rear door opened. Light seeped around Thompson’s bulk as he slipped through the generous door and sat in the jump-seat he folded down across from her. He reached over next to him and folded a tray from the back of the seat.

Opening the bag he’d placed on the floor at his feet, he pulled out a patty melt, an orange Dreamsicle shake, and an order of cheese sticks. Then he pulled out another sandwich, some fries and a soft drink for himself.

“We used to do this when you were younger,” he said, smiling. She really liked his smile. “You went nuts for the Dreamsicle shakes, and your mother would never let you get one. It was always our little secret. I picked them up for you and snuck them up to your room. I think your father always knew, but he never spilled the beans, either.”

“I don’t know that I have ever had one,” she said, looking at the shake in front of her. She pursed her lips and sucked in a taste. “Wow… ok, this is really good.”

She took a bite of one of the cheese sticks, then a bite from her patty melt. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Soon all thought of what was happening... or what had already happened… was gone. She was famished, and everything was so good. Normally, she was a picky eater, but everything was perfect, just the way she would have ordered.

“Thompson, I don’t understand all of this,” she said, her shake slurping as she got to the bottom. “It can’t be real. I lived in a trailer park and had been married to a man…” she hesitated, wanting to say more, the words caught in her throat, “… for eleven years,” she finished.

“Miss Hall, I won’t pretend to know what is happening. I just know that I’ve been your driver since you were a girl. Fifteen years now I have been with you just about every day. I’ve helped you with your homework when you were in school, and have stood next to you through just about everything you’ve ever faced… You cried into my shoulders when you buried your parents. Whether you know me or not isn’t important. I know you… and I’ll never let anything bad happen, ok?”

“I trust you, Thompson,” she replied, her eyes glistening. “Can you take me home now?”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

“And please, just call me Lucinda.”

“Only when we are alone, Lucinda.”

***

The black Rolls-Royce crossed a bridge onto an island. Beyond the houses she could see the bay, and the Gulf of Mexico beyond. The water shown in deepening shades of blue out to the horizon where there was a layer of haze before the deepening shades of blue signified the sky.

At the end of the road a gate swung open as the car approached. Thompson easily piloted them through, only a hint of a bump as the car transitioned from road to driveway. He wheeled around and parked at the top of the driveway’s arc, by the front door.

Her door swung open, Thompson at the side. He held out his hand and steadied her as she stepped from the car. Leaning toward her, he whispered in her ear, “That’s Amanda.”

A woman opened the door and stepped from the house. She was middle-aged, and very attractive. She was slender, in a pencil skirt ending at her knees, and a suit jacket, despite the warmth of the day. Her long, brown hair was in a bun, and she had silver glasses on a chain hanging from her neck.

“How was the meeting with the lawyers,” Miss Hall?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess,” she replied, not wanting to give away what she recalled.

“Very good,” Amanda replied. “You are running late, and your two o’clock is waiting for you in the study. Mr. Whitmer Stevens.”

Behind her, Thompson had closed the door and was heading to the driver’s seat when he heard the name. He stopped and looked back at Lucinda. She turned and exchanged a glance with him. Thompson nodded to her and stepped into the car. He quickly pulled away toward the garage as Amanda led Lucinda into the house that everyone seemed to think was hers.

Moving through the hall, Lucinda was aware of Amanda talking about something, but Whit’s name was the last thing she had processed. Why was he here.

“I think I should change clothes,” Lucinda said. “It should only take a moment. I spilled a little coffee on my blouse.”

“Very well, Miss Hall. I’ll let Mr. Stevens know you will be with him in a moment.” Amanda disappeared down a side hall leaving Lucinda with no idea where to go.

“Stairs,” Thompson whispered, hustling from another hall. He pointed the direction Lucinda needed to go.

“Thank you, Thompson. I don’t know where my own room is.”

“No problem, Lucinda, follow me.”

She followed him as he moved quickly through the house, leading her to a room on the second floor, double doors imposingly marking it. He opened the door and led her in.

“Closet is over there. I’ll lead you back down and I can sit in your meeting if you’d like.”

“Please? Can you?”

A few minutes later, in a new outfit, Lucinda stepped into the library. A step back and right, Thompson took up his post. She gasped when she saw Whit Stevens. It was undoubtedly the same man, but lean and well-dressed. As he turned to face her, she saw the rings he wore on several fingers.

He moved toward her, his teeth showing in a wide smile. She hadn’t even noticed that she moved back until she felt Thompson gently support her by her elbows.

“Luce, are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Whit said, another step closer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stevens, Miss Hall has had a busy morning,” Thompson said. “Perhaps…”

“No, no, no,” Lucinda said, standing tall again, “I’m ok. Thank you, Thompson.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Mr. Stevens, what can I help you with?” Lucinda asked after smoothing her skirt and blouse.

“Mr. Stevens, she says,” he laughed. “You’ve always called me Whit, before. I wanted to talk about a possible merger.”

Lucinda stepped back, hoping that her external demeanor stayed neutral, but fearing it wouldn’t. She could feel the color drain from her face as her vision grayed. The thought of even being alone with Whit terrified her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stevens, I don’t think… No.” She shook her head.

Thompson leaned forward and whispered in Lucinda’s ear.

“Whit, Thompson has reminded me of another appointment for which I simply cannot be late. He can see you out. Thank you,” she said, smiling weakly and backing out of the room.

“I flew here from California…” she heard him say as the door closed behind her.

Lucinda retraced the steps back to her bedroom suite. She closed the large door behind her and walked over to the sitting area and collapsed into one of the leather wingback chairs. She retrieved the black notebook from the table next to the chair. There was an eraser clipped to it that she hadn’t noticed before.

Meeting at 2:00pm with Whitmer Stevens-

We can erase our mistakes, write a correction, and move on with a better story. What should you erase?

She stared at the notebook. Could it be that easy? she thought.

If you haven't read Lucinda's Choice, here is a link for it. It was a 2000 word competition piece, and the first I wrote on Vocal.

If you enjoy my stories, be sure to check out my profile here for more. You can also check out my Amazon Author Page to see my full-length novels.

Part three of Lucinda's journey is Nightmare of Dust.