A light breeze swayed the limbs of the old oak tree just outside the second story window of Blanche’s room. Spanish moss hung in great sheets from the angled branches, some extending almost to the ground, casting spider web like shadows on the bedspread upon which Blanche lay. The fleeing sunlight, all but gone for the day, Blanche lay meditating, as she always did upon completing a novel, absorbing the full impact and importance of the words that had so touched her soul over these past two weeks. She loved a book that could pull her into the pages and make her a part, as had Mandingo.
The beating of her heart could be felt, her hand resting there, her eyes closed, lost in the story, mingling it with her own life and journey. She thought of her childhood, her strict upbringing from parents who obviously loved her and wanted only the best for her, and the many miles that now separated them. The feelings of joy and fulfillment, although not always present, had been more readily apparent since her move, however, she longed for someone to hold her hand, a strong hero who would sweep into her life and transport her to a place of love and ecstasy that she only could imagine.
With her eyes closed, in that state between sleep and cognition, she could almost see him. His broad shoulders, muscled arms testing the limits of the uniform he wore, sworn to protect God and country. A light smile parted her lips as the pleasant thought floated through her mind, causing a burning in her bosom, providing hope to a once hopeless passage. In the shadow cast rental room, her mind still fully engaged with the man of her dreams, she said a little prayer, not aloud but with the faith of a child she’d possessed years ago, “Father, if you are there and you do know who I am, would it be too much to ask for someone to come my way that would love me, take care of me and treat me like someone special.” As her thought passed from this dimension to the next, she saw him for only a split second. The man of her dreams, brown hair under his tilted cap, profile only, but a distinctive dimple in his left cheek.
“What could she possibly be doing, she’s been just laying there for more than a half hour,” he thought, posed on the balcony of a home less than a block away. He’d been lucky to find a place with no one home for the evening, which gave him the vantage point he needed to see directly into her room. “Tonight is for me,” he thought. “No agenda, no hazardous duty pay, just for me.” The viewfinder filled with the shadowed image of the woman on the bed. Click.
He was not quite sure what he’d expected from this ‘Peeping Tom’ routine. The pictures taken from the safety of the van continued to excite him and give him a sense of power, however, skulking in the dim fading light of day did not provide the same pleasure that confronting her face to face had. He again found her in the viewfinder and extended the telephoto lens, he could see her hand on her chest, “Perhaps she is thinking of me the way I have her since our encounter,” he thought.
As he sat back in the wooden chair provided by the unknowing homeowners and looked across the distance from his perch to her room, he wondered what it would be like to possess such a rare creature. He thought of the pictures of her walking with the young guy from the library and imagined himself taking that role. It was not entirely unlikely; he was not a bad looking guy. In his line of work he had to keep himself in tip top shape and there’d been nights when he’d walked away from the bar with the best looking woman in the place, even if she was a little more tipsy than he preferred.
Before long he got tired of waiting for something to happen, a couple more pictures were taken for good measure and he left the relative security of the balcony and walked the few blocks to his van and headed home. The drive had been one of unrestrained fantasy. Why was this woman, that he did not know, having this affect on him? The short and not overly friendly exchange they had in the library was not one made of dreams.
He found her attractive and intriguing; the soft spot she had for ‘authentic’ patriots kind of pulled at his heartstrings and helped him remember the man he used to be. He harkened back to days in the field with his dad before he got sick and the times they had shared hunting the backwoods near their home and the long, lazy days on the banks of the river catching catfish. His mother had passed when he was young; cancer had taken her from his life, but not his memory.
The thought of her standing at the kitchen sink, welcoming him home from school, the smell of fresh baked sugar cookies still lingering in the air, were as vibrant now as the day he reflected on. She was quick to bring him inline but equally quick to offer a loving hug. His dad had been much the same and he missed the time together and had been bitter when his father had also been taken before his time. Solace had come at a critical time for him, the passing of his father and the void that created had been partially filled by Virginia May, a farmer’s daughter he’d known from his youth.
Red hair, pale, freckle covered skin, an innocence that he had found refreshing. She had brought passion, and what he thought would be lasting love, to his life when he thought all was lost. They lived in the home in which he was raised, lived off the land and farmed what they could to make ends meet. It was not an abundant life but a satisfying one as far as he was concerned. He was unaware of her discontent until it was too late.
The hours he spent caring for the land, the animals and making a living for them were hours away from her and it was more than she could bear. She needed constant reassurance and the meager existence they were scraping out was less than she’d dreamed of having. Raised in difficult times, her parents had always provided food on the table and adequate clothing but there was nothing exquisite about her surroundings or belongings, and she longed for that. Surely there was more in store for her, and in her own mind, she had settled and wound up in the same circumstances as her parents.
Virginia May knew he loved her, would give his life for her, however, she was unable to cope with the many hours spent alone, ultimately what the redhead did with those hours led to their destruction. The day of her departing haunted him still, the fancy SUV sitting in the driveway, her bags by the door, a simple lunch on the table as she always did when he came home for a quick break from the fields. A dark, handsome man had stood near the Escalade, pacing back and forth, checking the time on his Rolex repeatedly. Not much of an explanation other than she’d found new love and was moving on but, “they could still be friends”, she’d said, with a parting, pathetic kiss on his cheek. She might as well have ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it under her heels.
The love of his life gone, his parents taken suddenly from him, his will to live destroyed, he’d been forced to sell the farm to survive. He retained the house and a few acres surrounding the structures but everything else was gone. The funds from the sale had provided sustenance but not for long. He’d had hours and days filled with rage and resentment and no outlet until, one late night, he’d watched To Catch a Thief and his destiny was set in motion.
He’d get back at that rich bastard that took his Virginia May and every other money grubbing scumbag that he could find. He’d set things right and all would be well. His energy and anger toward God and man were funneled into perfecting his craft and it had paid off. His first target had been Virginia May’s home. What a thrill that had been, rifling through their belongings, knowing what he did of her wants and desires had been overwhelming, as he stood in their bedroom imagining what took place there.
The crime had actually been easier than he had imagined, valuables were plentiful, access barely unrestricted and unloading the items a breeze. A newfound career with untold benefits, the thrill of the hunt ever present had paid off for him over the past ten years. He was free from a criminal record, except in his heart, and the scattered bank accounts only needed one final deposit to set him free.
There was no question that the librarian, Blanche 'Whatever', had caught his attention due to her similarity to Virginia May, but there was more to it than that, and he was sure he’d seen it in her eyes. She wanted him. His sloppy performance at the library was suspect, and the exchange disconcerting, but there was no mistaking the glint in her eye as he had left. In his mind it was unmistakable. There had been an attraction there, but what to do from here. She knew him as a handicapped vet with poor vision and a cane. He suspected his performance and disguise would not linger in the woman’s memory, but when he appeared before her as himself she would be unable to resist the connection. The thought of how that may play out occupied his mind until he returned home.
Entering the hidden desk area he could see a message was waiting on the restricted cell phone. He dialed, “Where are you? You’re suppose to have this phone with you at all times, is that understood? Don’t phone me back. I’ll be busy but we want two quick outings back to back on the heels of what you did last night. By the way, good job, the press is going nuts and the police won’t release any information. A wonderful little panic is starting to develop, keep it going. Won’t be any package of info for these next two, sorry, no time. Do something on your own, we’ll leave it up to you, but keep it within the same zone we’re working with. If you have any questions you can try me tomorrow.”
“Finally,” he thought, “I’m tired of having to pick on these common folk, ‘bout time somebody with some cash paid the price.”
The dreamy librarian eventually found the energy to pull herself from her fantasies and returned to real life. She really needed someone tonight, if not to hold at least to talk to. The thought of Mrs. Muir or Caroline came to mind, but she just didn’t have the will to spend another hour talking about fruit salad or the latest soaps. She considered going for a walk but the assault at the bus stop prevented her from mustering the courage to venture out, at least not alone.
Jasper and his powerful chest flashed through her mind, remembering that tomorrow night she needed to attend the bodybuilding competition. The idea both disgusted and titillated her at the same time.
“Hope I don’t embarrass myself,” she thought as she pictured all the buff men in tiny little Speedo’s displayed before her. “No, better not contact Jasper, that would be way too forward. Maybe Seymour. Could pretend I was curious about the project we’d worked on together. That’s a plausible reason for a call, right?” she surmised, running ideas through her head as she paced her room. “But what would his mother think, a mature woman like myself phoning her younger son? Screw it, he’s cute and I know he’s got the hots for me, a quick phone call won’t hurt, I’ll keep it very professional.”
Blanche could feel her pulse quicken, anxiety rising, breath coming in shorter, faster intakes and exhales, her hand shook slightly as she picked up the phone and dialed.
A woman answered, “Hello, Wood residence.”
“Must be his mother,” she thought. "Why couldn’t Seymour have answered?"
“Yes, hello, I was wondering if I might speak to Seymour?” her voice quivered slightly, as she made the request.
“So would I,” his mother said back into the receiver. “Never get much of a chance to see him these days, I think he sleeps here cause his bed is tussled in the mornin’ and food is missing from the fridge but he’s nothing more than a ghost around here, I'm afraid.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Blanche sincerely responded.
“Can I take a message or you could try his cell?”
“He’s got a cell phone?” she questioned, wishing she had had that information before trying his home.
On his fixed income and school expenses she hadn’t imagined he could afford a phone as well, but then again every kid eight and older had a cell phone these days.
“Yup, not for very long. Would you like the number?”
“That would be helpful, thank you,” her pulse slowing, with the cheerful mood of the call.
“You ready? 229-412-3838, don’t have any idea where he is tonight but you are welcome to give him a try. Do you mind me asking what this is in reference to?” his mother questioned the stranger.
“No, not at all, this is Blanche Delaney, I work with Seymour at the library. I just had a couple of work related questions for him. While I’ve got you, I must tell you, he’s a very courteous young man and a pleasure to work with.”
“Thank you, thank you very much, it’s nice to hear once in awhile that your efforts are paying off. Hasn’t been easy ‘round here since his father passed but don’t know what I'd do without him. I’ve heard him talk about you. You the pretty red haired woman?”
Blanche could feel her cheeks warming and reflexively turning red, “I guess you could say my hair is a shade of red, everybody else at the library is graying so guess that would be me.”
“Well, this here boy of mine has got a tender heart and I believe a pretty big crush on you. I’d appreciate it if you’d be careful with his feelings,” his mother said, worried that she had perhaps overstepped her bounds but forging ahead anyway.
“No, no, it’s not like that at all, just needing to talk about some shift changes we’re considering and I needed his input.”
“Well that’s fine, he’s a grown man and all, but just don’t want to see him get hurt, if you know what I mean,” the concerned mother continued.
“I certainly appreciate your concern and will do all I can to avoid causing your son any distress,” Blanche replied. “Thanks for the phone number and it was nice talking with you Mrs. Wood, good night.”
His mother’s tone gave her pause. The phone shook in her hand as she considered both the up and down sides of making the call. Her mind made up she pressed the digits and lifted the small phone to her ear, a pause much longer than she expected, then a ring, ring, ring, ring, finally someone picked up at the other end.
“Hello Blanche, that really you?” the voice said.
“Yeah, it’s really me, how are you?” she excitedly said into her cellular.
“I can’t believe you’ve finally found time to phone me, thought maybe you’d forgotten about your best friend,” Holly said.
“Never, no way, just been so crazy with trying to get my life settled here and everything. You know how it can be?” Blanche responded.
The old friends picked up their conversation like it had been yesterday that they had talked last. The librarian filled her friend in on what she’d been doing, information about the job and the area. Holly was anxious to hear all that but was more than a little interested to hear about Blanche’s love life.
“So, I can tell you’ve been avoiding the topic, but what about the men out there, any Southern Gentleman calling on you,” she said, with a distinctively fake Southern accent.
Blanche filled her in on meeting Jasper and Rufus, and the bodybuilding thing that was happening the next day, as well as her run-in with Mikey and company.
“Blanche, you have got to be more careful, a babelicious little nugget like yourself is gonna attract every swingin’ dick in the county with a pea-sized brain controlling it,” Holly said laughing at her end.
“You sure know how to turn a phrase Holly, and with so much tact as well.”
They continued to joke with one another for some time not realizing how long they’d been talking or how much this call would cost Blanche. At the end of the call, Holly tried to be a bit more serious, expressing love and true concern for her friend located so far away.
“Really Blanche, how are you, you okay?”
“Holly, I have to tell you, I really miss you and everybody there, but moving here is the best thing I think I’ve ever done. I love my job, Valdosta is great, and I’ve had this funny feeling lately, it’s hard to describe, but I think it’s what happiness must feel like,” Blanche expressed.
She lay back on her bed and continued, saying more than she had intended to, “And I’ve met a young guy that makes me feel good, makes me feel special. Not so much in a love interest kind of way, but just makes me feel important and that I make a difference.”
“Blanche, I’m so happy for you and glad that it’s going well there. I miss you too, but I know you did what you knew you had to. So tell me, how much younger is he. What’s his name? You know, all the good stuff.” Holly anxiously awaited the answers.
“Well, he’s only 24, so that’s why I said he can’t really be a love interest or anything, but his name is Seymour, Seymour Wood,” Blanche detailed.
A loud laugh burst through the line that originated in Arizona and wound up in Georgia causing Blanche to push the phone away from her ear. Holly went on for what seemed like a minute or two before she could get herself under control.
“What? What’s so funny about a young guy maybe being into me, it’s only 9 years. I’ve seen worse and the fact that I’m his boss shouldn’t have anything to do with it.”
Holly finally contained her laughter and continued to snicker when she replied, “Oh Blanche, you are just too cute and naive. I think it’s great that you’ve got a younger admirer. Hold on a minute, did you just say you’re his boss. Oh that’s perfect, just perfect,” she started laughing again.
“What is so damn funny?” Blanche was starting to get a little irritated that her friend was having so much fun at her expense.
“It’s not that at all, it’s his name. Seymour Wood,” Holly chucked into the phone.
“I don’t get it, what’s the deal?”
“Are you serious, Blanche? You are kidding right?” her friend asked.
“No, I know it’s an old school name but I don’t find it that funny.”
“Blanche listen, k. Just listen. See More Wood,” Holly said, with distinct gaps in the syllables.
“Yeah, so what?”
Holly was stupefied, “Wood, Blanche, Wood. His last name is Wood! You know erection, stiff dick, hardon, woody…..See More Wood.”
“Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh, Holly! I’d never even…, oh that is kind of funny. Bet he gets crap for that all the time.”
The two shared a good laugh that only the best of friends can share; all that was missing was the extended hug that should follow.
After having caught up with each other, and everything, the two parted, a promise to talk again soon. Blanche placed the phone on the bed next to her, new thoughts flooding her mind, thoughts of home, Holly and Seymour.
“Seymour Wood,” she said it out loud, and laughed again before getting ready for bed.