Post by chelseye on Oct 13, 2010 19:27:38 GMT -6
PROLOGUE
Lizzie Denney grabbed her robe and tied a tight knot as her door bell rang again.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” she shouted, tying her waist-length wet curls in a loose pony tail. Who in the world could be coming this late? She’d been sitting in the hot tub, enjoying her dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice after an evening at the gym.
Collin would have laughed to see her with the book in the hot tub. “You could probably read while giving birth to our firstborn Lizzie” he’d tell her often. Then she’d usually laugh and swat at him with her book. Thinking about it brought a smile to her lips. It had been a long week without him. She decided then and there she’d go with him on his next trip.
The smile on her face slipped a bit when she saw Mr. Fiddler, Collin’s boss, through the peep hole. What could he want? Surely he knows Collin isn’t due back until tomorrow.
“Mr. Fiddler? What are you doing here? You know that Collin isn’t coming back until tomorrow.” She noticed he had bags under his eyes. Well it’s no wonder. Collin says he practically lives at the office.
“Mrs. Denney…” he began, but ended in an awkward silence. She momentarily forgot his troubled expression at the mention of her name. Her Name! She’d only been married to Collin for two months and it still thrilled her to hear the sound of his name in reference to her. “Um, may I come in?”
“Oh, certainly, I’m sorry. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have Root Beer, or water if you’d prefer.”
“That won’t be necessary Mrs. Denney. I’m afraid I have some troubling news. You might want to sit down.”
Lizzie sat, confused at his statement. What could he have come to tell me? Is the paper going under? Is Collin going to lose his job? We can’t pay the rent without that job. I still haven’t been able to get on at the local school as an aide yet. And Collin won’t like—
Her musings were interrupted with Fiddler’s next words. “Mrs. Denney… I’m afraid we’ve lost contact with Collin. The last communication we had with him was yesterday at noon. He was supposed to report to us from the base in Istanbul before he boarded the plane at eight. I… I don’t know how to say this, but your husband is missing.” His large Adams apple bobbed at this statement, his eyes were wary.
Lizzie was silent. Everything came into sharp focus, beginning with her hands. She noticed the small scratch on her knuckle that she had received from washing dishes earlier that afternoon. The small diamond perched on her left ring finger sparkled in the light from a nearby lamp. It had been Collin’s grandmother’s ring that she brought over from Ireland and he said she brought the sparkle out in it again. The floral print of her couch popped out. Every flower seemed magnified and abnormally textured. Greens, yellows, pinks, and oranges popped out in disarray. She noticed the loose string that hung from the sleeve of her robe. And yet, as she took all this in, she saw nothing. Nothing made sense in the light of Mr. Fiddler’s words. Her breathing became labored.
“Mrs. Denney? Mrs. Denney! Did you hear what I said?” He looked scared, like he was about to jump out of his seat. Unbeknownst to Lizzie, he was searching for the nearest faucet, sure the pale-faced, wide-eyed wife of his best reporter was going to faint on him.
With a start, as if coming out of a trance, Lizzie replied, “What? Oh, yes. Collin…He probably just forgot. You know how forgetful he can be sometimes.” She let out a nervous chuckle, praying that Mr. Fiddler would agree, maybe laugh at his foolishness for forgetting.
Instead, he sat, twisting his cap in his hands. He squeezed the cap, his long fingers unrelenting on the plaid fabric, “No Mrs. Denney, he would have had many reminders. We leave notes at certain check points. I know that at least three were left for Collin at various places. We’ve already contacted the embassy. They’re going to start looking for him as soon as possible. But we wanted you to know before we told anybody else.” He glanced around sheepishly, unsure of what to do. With a sigh he set his hands upon his knees, “I should really be going though. My wife is expecting me home soon. Will you please let me know if you need anything?” His mouth was grim. I should have brought Betty he though to himself. I don’t know how to handle a hysterical woman!
“Hum? Oh, yes, of course.” She surprised him. He glanced back from the door, unsure of what to do. Finally he turned and walked out to the warm night air. She didn’t even notice that Mr. Fiddler let himself out until she heard the door click shut.
“It will be fine…He probably just couldn’t get to a phone. Everything will be just fine…”
TWO WEEKS LATER
Short letter from the Embassy of Istanbul: August 12, 2007. We regret to inform you that your husband has been declared dead as of June 2, 2007. Please accept our deepest regrets.
CHAPTER 1
6 Months Later
Elizabeth Harrin trudged back to the dorm. It was another cold and rainy day and she had forgotten her umbrella. It matches my mood… she thought dismally. She had started classes three weeks ago and nothing seemed to go right. Her schedule had started out as a disaster, three of her classes had been scheduled for the same time and it had taken four hours to figure out how to resolve the issue. As it was, she had to give up one of the classes and take another in the evening. To make matters worse, her new professor was obnoxious and decidedly sexist, she was stuck next to the biggest loud mouth in lab, and had recently learned that one of her loans might not go through. What else could possibly go wrong?
“Lizzie! Hey Lizzie! Wait up!” a thin, blond girl ran towards her, seemingly ignorant to the rain.
Elizabeth groaned. With a steely glare, she glanced back at her roommate, Samantha, or Sam as she asked people to call her. The girl was always bubbly, always happy, always…joyful. It grated on Elizabeth’s nerves. No matter where they were, Sam was laughing. The night before she had been watching some kind of chick-flick. Every few minutes, Elizabeth’s studies were interrupted by high-pitched giggles and far-away sighs. “Do you think there’s a guy like that out there for you Lizzie?” Sam had asked her. “A man who can sweep you off your feet and ride off into the sunset with you?” As she had then, Elizabeth stayed silent. She kept walking, not breaking stride to wait for the peppy girl.
“Lizzie! Didn’t you hear me calling?” They were in the lobby now, dripping onto the newly tiled floor. Elizabeth glanced up and noticed the wet floor sign. A member of the janitorial staff was standing next to it, muttering and shaking their head. Elizabeth had already almost fallen once, and she didn’t want to repeat the experience again.
“Yeah, I heard you,” her voice was curt. She pushed the shoulder length red curls out of her face and remained silent after her comment. She still wasn’t used to how short her hair was, but she supposed she’d get
“Well…why didn’t you wait? I have some exciting news! You wouldn’t beli—” Sam was in the middle of squeezing the water out of her hair.
Elizabeth quickly cut her off. “Sam, I don’t know about you, but I am not fond of standing out in the rain. I don’t like wet clothes and I have no desire to get a cold. Finally, I have asked you many times not to call me…that name,” Elizabeth left no room for doubt. Her determined glare was directed at Sam with alarming intensity.
“Which I’ve never understood. You look like a Lizzie. I just can’t see why you hate it so much.” Completely oblivious, Sam continued to ring out her hair onto the tiles.
There was a time I loved it she thought to herself. And there was a time I loved being out in the rain. That’s where our first kiss… She stopped herself there. It was no use dwelling on it, he was gone and that was that. She looked down at her soaked tennis-shoes. With her parents out of the country on their mission trips, she saw no need to go home, so college beckoned. She hadn’t wanted to come, but she saw no other choice. Instead of gracing Sam’s opinion with a reply, she turned and walked up the stairs, hoping the water dripping into her eyes would hide the tears.
Lizzie Denney grabbed her robe and tied a tight knot as her door bell rang again.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” she shouted, tying her waist-length wet curls in a loose pony tail. Who in the world could be coming this late? She’d been sitting in the hot tub, enjoying her dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice after an evening at the gym.
Collin would have laughed to see her with the book in the hot tub. “You could probably read while giving birth to our firstborn Lizzie” he’d tell her often. Then she’d usually laugh and swat at him with her book. Thinking about it brought a smile to her lips. It had been a long week without him. She decided then and there she’d go with him on his next trip.
The smile on her face slipped a bit when she saw Mr. Fiddler, Collin’s boss, through the peep hole. What could he want? Surely he knows Collin isn’t due back until tomorrow.
“Mr. Fiddler? What are you doing here? You know that Collin isn’t coming back until tomorrow.” She noticed he had bags under his eyes. Well it’s no wonder. Collin says he practically lives at the office.
“Mrs. Denney…” he began, but ended in an awkward silence. She momentarily forgot his troubled expression at the mention of her name. Her Name! She’d only been married to Collin for two months and it still thrilled her to hear the sound of his name in reference to her. “Um, may I come in?”
“Oh, certainly, I’m sorry. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have Root Beer, or water if you’d prefer.”
“That won’t be necessary Mrs. Denney. I’m afraid I have some troubling news. You might want to sit down.”
Lizzie sat, confused at his statement. What could he have come to tell me? Is the paper going under? Is Collin going to lose his job? We can’t pay the rent without that job. I still haven’t been able to get on at the local school as an aide yet. And Collin won’t like—
Her musings were interrupted with Fiddler’s next words. “Mrs. Denney… I’m afraid we’ve lost contact with Collin. The last communication we had with him was yesterday at noon. He was supposed to report to us from the base in Istanbul before he boarded the plane at eight. I… I don’t know how to say this, but your husband is missing.” His large Adams apple bobbed at this statement, his eyes were wary.
Lizzie was silent. Everything came into sharp focus, beginning with her hands. She noticed the small scratch on her knuckle that she had received from washing dishes earlier that afternoon. The small diamond perched on her left ring finger sparkled in the light from a nearby lamp. It had been Collin’s grandmother’s ring that she brought over from Ireland and he said she brought the sparkle out in it again. The floral print of her couch popped out. Every flower seemed magnified and abnormally textured. Greens, yellows, pinks, and oranges popped out in disarray. She noticed the loose string that hung from the sleeve of her robe. And yet, as she took all this in, she saw nothing. Nothing made sense in the light of Mr. Fiddler’s words. Her breathing became labored.
“Mrs. Denney? Mrs. Denney! Did you hear what I said?” He looked scared, like he was about to jump out of his seat. Unbeknownst to Lizzie, he was searching for the nearest faucet, sure the pale-faced, wide-eyed wife of his best reporter was going to faint on him.
With a start, as if coming out of a trance, Lizzie replied, “What? Oh, yes. Collin…He probably just forgot. You know how forgetful he can be sometimes.” She let out a nervous chuckle, praying that Mr. Fiddler would agree, maybe laugh at his foolishness for forgetting.
Instead, he sat, twisting his cap in his hands. He squeezed the cap, his long fingers unrelenting on the plaid fabric, “No Mrs. Denney, he would have had many reminders. We leave notes at certain check points. I know that at least three were left for Collin at various places. We’ve already contacted the embassy. They’re going to start looking for him as soon as possible. But we wanted you to know before we told anybody else.” He glanced around sheepishly, unsure of what to do. With a sigh he set his hands upon his knees, “I should really be going though. My wife is expecting me home soon. Will you please let me know if you need anything?” His mouth was grim. I should have brought Betty he though to himself. I don’t know how to handle a hysterical woman!
“Hum? Oh, yes, of course.” She surprised him. He glanced back from the door, unsure of what to do. Finally he turned and walked out to the warm night air. She didn’t even notice that Mr. Fiddler let himself out until she heard the door click shut.
“It will be fine…He probably just couldn’t get to a phone. Everything will be just fine…”
TWO WEEKS LATER
Short letter from the Embassy of Istanbul: August 12, 2007. We regret to inform you that your husband has been declared dead as of June 2, 2007. Please accept our deepest regrets.
CHAPTER 1
6 Months Later
Elizabeth Harrin trudged back to the dorm. It was another cold and rainy day and she had forgotten her umbrella. It matches my mood… she thought dismally. She had started classes three weeks ago and nothing seemed to go right. Her schedule had started out as a disaster, three of her classes had been scheduled for the same time and it had taken four hours to figure out how to resolve the issue. As it was, she had to give up one of the classes and take another in the evening. To make matters worse, her new professor was obnoxious and decidedly sexist, she was stuck next to the biggest loud mouth in lab, and had recently learned that one of her loans might not go through. What else could possibly go wrong?
“Lizzie! Hey Lizzie! Wait up!” a thin, blond girl ran towards her, seemingly ignorant to the rain.
Elizabeth groaned. With a steely glare, she glanced back at her roommate, Samantha, or Sam as she asked people to call her. The girl was always bubbly, always happy, always…joyful. It grated on Elizabeth’s nerves. No matter where they were, Sam was laughing. The night before she had been watching some kind of chick-flick. Every few minutes, Elizabeth’s studies were interrupted by high-pitched giggles and far-away sighs. “Do you think there’s a guy like that out there for you Lizzie?” Sam had asked her. “A man who can sweep you off your feet and ride off into the sunset with you?” As she had then, Elizabeth stayed silent. She kept walking, not breaking stride to wait for the peppy girl.
“Lizzie! Didn’t you hear me calling?” They were in the lobby now, dripping onto the newly tiled floor. Elizabeth glanced up and noticed the wet floor sign. A member of the janitorial staff was standing next to it, muttering and shaking their head. Elizabeth had already almost fallen once, and she didn’t want to repeat the experience again.
“Yeah, I heard you,” her voice was curt. She pushed the shoulder length red curls out of her face and remained silent after her comment. She still wasn’t used to how short her hair was, but she supposed she’d get
“Well…why didn’t you wait? I have some exciting news! You wouldn’t beli—” Sam was in the middle of squeezing the water out of her hair.
Elizabeth quickly cut her off. “Sam, I don’t know about you, but I am not fond of standing out in the rain. I don’t like wet clothes and I have no desire to get a cold. Finally, I have asked you many times not to call me…that name,” Elizabeth left no room for doubt. Her determined glare was directed at Sam with alarming intensity.
“Which I’ve never understood. You look like a Lizzie. I just can’t see why you hate it so much.” Completely oblivious, Sam continued to ring out her hair onto the tiles.
There was a time I loved it she thought to herself. And there was a time I loved being out in the rain. That’s where our first kiss… She stopped herself there. It was no use dwelling on it, he was gone and that was that. She looked down at her soaked tennis-shoes. With her parents out of the country on their mission trips, she saw no need to go home, so college beckoned. She hadn’t wanted to come, but she saw no other choice. Instead of gracing Sam’s opinion with a reply, she turned and walked up the stairs, hoping the water dripping into her eyes would hide the tears.