Walking the Dead to Heaven
By
Barbara E. Pleasant
Strategic Book Publishing & Rights Co.
E-book edition © 2014
All rights reserved – Barbara E. Pleasant
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from the publisher.
Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Co.
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ISBN: 978-1-62516-988-4
All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any character, living or dead is purely co-incidental.
Cover image is copyright protected
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Stacy Winters looked around the store and muttered; “Now where has that stock boy disappeared to?” Her eyebrows were knitted together in an angry crease and she glanced at her customer. “I’m so sorry for the delay, this is his job,” Stacy told her having to speak a little louder to be heard over the piped in music playing throughout the store. She lifted herself up on her toes so she could look out over the store. Maybe she could spot him mixed in with the shoppers milling about the store. However, no luck the stock boy was nowhere to be seen.
Her sweeping gaze stopped on a man she’d seen several times in places where she frequented. The grocery store, the bank, the post office, or she would see him standing across the street in the shade of a doorway, or the entrance to an ally. She always found his eyes on her, watching her as if he was waiting for something. She didn’t know why, but she felt uneasy. Just the sight if him sent a cold wind sweeping over her. She felt this man who was always dressed in black, was not of this world. She didn’t know how to explain it- even to herself- however, he looked frighteningly otherworldly.
Today he was closer to her than he’d ever been before. Right here in the department store where she worked, but standing off to the side out of the way of shoppers passing through the store. He’s getting closer. Who is he? Is he stalking me? If so why? Stacy had men run after her before but when she told them she wasn’t interested, they usually backed off. “What does this man want?” Always when he saw her gaze stop on him, he would quickly turn away. It was strange however, if she became distracted with a customer and took her eyes off him just for a moment, just a split second. When she looked back, he would have disappeared. I know it’s not humanly possible for him to move that quickly, she reasoned with herself. That’s what made her think he was not of this world. He was a phantom, a ghost maybe. Since childhood she had always been able to see spirits slowly passing by in zombie like trances. Neither seeing nor hearing the mortals around them.
From what she could see of this man from across the store, he was quite good looking for a ghost or even a stalker. Usually a stalker is the type that has a hard time making friends or even getting a woman to accept a date with him. He would be quite plain, nothing handsome about him that would attract the opposite sex. It was just unpleasant things that would turn a woman off.
“This man isn’t the stalker type,” she told herself. “He’s tall maybe 6 feet 4 inches, with a fair complexion. He had a straight nose and strong chin. Maybe a two-day growth of whiskers that was in today’s style. She guessed men thought it made them look sexy. She knew for herself, she didn’t like the feel of the sharp stubble against her lips and chin, and couldn’t wait for the kiss to end. That unshaven face usually ended her relationship with any new man when she continued to make excuses for not kissing.
“This man had a full head of straight black hair parted in the middle, which was long enough to stop just below the back of his coat collar. He was always dressed in black. Everything about him was black. He wore a long black trench coat that stopped half way between his knees and ankles. Always unbuttoned, with the front ends flapping in the breeze he created as he walked. It’s summer outside, why would he wear a coat in this warm weather? Stacy thought this manner of dress made him look menacing. However, he was quite handsome, that is what she could see of him from this distance. Also, when she looked at him, she didn’t know why, but the unknown made fear squeeze at her stomach.
Maybe she should confront him, demand to know why he was stalking her. However, she was afraid he in his defense would tell her, “Lady, you flatter yourself.” Now at this moment when their eyes locked, again he turned away and disappeared in the crowd. “That’s right run away,” she whispered.
Stacy turned back to her customer and begged her to wait just a little longer, while she tried to get the store manager’s attention for help getting the ladder since the stock boy was missing in action so to speak.
The customer looking irritated and drummed her fingernails on the glass counter top.
Mr. Harvey was the manager of Gibson’s Department Store. It was the largest store in the middle of the old part of downtown in Charleston, South Carolina. When he finally looked Stacy’s way, and she raised her hand to signal him that she needed help.
Mr. Harvey nodded and hurried over to her counter. “My customer,” She told him, “has brought back a silver candlestick that has a tiny dent in the base, and she wants a replacement. The boxes of silver candlesticks are on the top shelf behind the counter.
I need the stock boy to bring the ladder and climb up to get the box down.”
“I’ll have to do it for you Miss Winters. The stock boy called in sick today, the forth time this month. I’m beginning to have second thoughts about hiring him.” Just as Mr. Harvey was reaching out a hand out to push through the stock room door, a voice on the intercom turned off the store’s background music in mid song, and paged Mr. Harvey to an important phone call.
He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back,” he promised and hurried away.
Stacy saw the customer’s face take on a frown, and then looked at Mr. Harvey’s retreating back. She reached a hand out to stop him, but he was already out of reach as he hurried away to answer the phone.
The customer was tired of waiting, and demanded attention. “Listen young lady, I can’t wait forever for this store to give me a replacement. If something isn’t done in a hurry, I want a refund on the whole set and I’ll go elsewhere from now on to do my shopping. I can tell you, Gibson’s isn’t the only upscale department store in Charleston. I can get just as good quality in silver at Thompson’s in the next block. I should have gone there to begin with.”
The customer’s mouth twisted into an angry grimace, and she went back to drumming her fingernails on the countertop. The sound was an irritating clicking that kept time with the store’s background music but the customer also meant it as a demand for Stacy to hurry.
Stacy glanced at Mr. Harvey’s retreating figure, and knew the customer wasn’t going to wait for him to return. Stacy remembered this woman from past visits to the store, and knew she was rich, and a big spender.
Stacy didn’t want to lose this customer, not when the sales help got a commission on everything they sold. It wasn’t all that much but, this set of candlesticks meant a little more added to her paycheck, which made the difference between having enough to pay her share of the apartment rent, and begging the landlord to give her and her roommate Tessa Ford, until next payday to come up with the balance. Tessa couldn’t pay the full amount of rent by herself, and then wait for Stacy to come up with her share. Tessa depended on Stacy to pay on time or feared they would be put out on the street. The landlord hinted that he had a stack of applications waiting for our apartment to become empty.
In Stacy’s imagination, she pictured herself living under the Cooper River Bridge, in a home made out of a large refrigerator box. No, no I can’t let that happen. She knew it was an exaggeration but, the image in her mind was enough to make her raise herself up on her toes again but this time to look for Mr. Harvey on his way back to the silver department.
The silver department was Stacy’s area in Gibson’s Department Store, and she thought it was the best department for sales. She loved this job and got to meet the well to do affluent people from rich neighborhoods where Stacy could only dream about living. Those rich women- like the one standing across the counter from her- came here to Gibson’s to buy their silver pieces. No way did she want to lose this customer, not if she could help it.
Stacy pictured in her mind their highly polished silver displayed on buffet tops, placed there to brag to their guests about how rich they were. Silver flatware was arranged just so, a full coffee service on a silver tray. Candlesticks, silver serving bowls, and monogrammed napkin rings were nestled in a silver bowl, or having been slid to the center of a perfectly folded and rolled Irish linen napkin. Stacy pictured a maid in a gray uniform with a white collar and a starched white apron tied around her waist. The maid was sitting at the kitchen table every Friday afternoon after she finished her cleaning, She had a polishing rag and was scrubbing away at any tarnish that dared to mar the expensive surface of the madam’s silver.
Also, a customer always wanted each silver piece engraved with their families initial in fancy Edwardian Script, or Old English lettering. Edwardian being the favorite and most requested.
Stacy herself had a dresser set with a silver handled brush and comb set, and a silver mirror engraved with her own initials that her Granny Selena Winters had left her in her will, because their initials were the same. The set was getting a little tarnished so she promised herself this weekend she would work with a polishing rag herself to bring it back to a high luster.
Stacy came back to the present by the customer’s irritating drumming fingernails on the glass counter top, and mentally shook herself. “Please just give me another minute,” she begged the customer “I’ll go get the ladder myself,”
Stacy disappeared and came back dragging the heavy wooden stepladder through the storeroom’s swinging doors, and scraping her knuckles on the doorframe as her reward. “Ouch!” she made a face of pain, and shook her hand in an effort to shake the pain away. After recovering for a moment, she wrestled the ladder into position, leaning it against the shelves behind the counter. She climbed up as high as she could go but still, to reach the box she would have to reach up over ladder. “Why did they build the shelves so high if the ladder was too short to reach the top?” Stacy muttered under her breath.
“Darn that lazy stock boy,” she told her customer looking back at her over her shoulder. “I could kill myself doing this. I know he wasn’t sick, not the way he was showing off his break dancing style in the middle of the stockroom floor yesterday. He looked fine to me when he left last night.” Stacy looked back at her customer again. “I bet he just wanted a day off to go to the beach with his friends.”
The words caught in her throat and she sucked in a breath of air when her stalker- the man in black- suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Now he was standing behind her customer, and staring up at her on the ladder, waiting. This was the closest he had ever been to her, so close Stacy could see the black of his eyes, and his smooth skin. He’s so handsome she thought. But then again she felt that familiar wave of fear, that sick feeling in her stomach. It rushed over her at the sight of him, but she ignored it, and turned back to the task at hand stretching up to reach the box of silver candlesticks.
The customer now worried that the young woman might fall, “Oh, do be careful.” The customer was now sorry she had rushed the girl about getting the candlesticks. “Careful,” she advised. “That ladder doesn’t look any too steady. It’s leaning. Do you want me to come back there and hold the ladder for you?” The woman started around the counter.
The words had no sooner left the customer’s mouth than Stacy leaned a little too far causing the already leaning ladder to shift to two legs and do a violent swing to the side. Stacy screamed, grabbing frantically around her for a handhold, but finding nothing but air. She lost her balance and tumbled with the ladder, striking the side of her head with a loud thud on the edge of the counter. Then she collapsed in a heap on the floor between the shelves and counter, with the ladder falling on top of her.
The store suddenly became silent, the cash registers stopped their clattering, and all talking stopped, with the shoppers turning to look in the direction of the scream. Then two curious shoppers rushed toward the silver department. Like sheep following the leader, the rest of the customers followed. What happened? Why was someone screaming? Now it seemed everyone was talking at once.
The manager also heard the scream and saw shoppers hurrying across the store. He dropped the phone leaving it swinging by it’s cord, his conversation was unfinished but now unimportant. He hurriedly followed the customers to the silver department. What he saw when he arrived and pushed his way thought the gathering crowd, was the store’s six-foot tall wooden ladder laying on top of his best sales clerk. “Oh my God,” he swore and looking around, signaled a nearby man to come help him.
The two men hurried around the counter to lift the ladder, and help the injured young woman who lay unconscious on the floor.
Stacy’s customer shook her head. “She hit her head pretty hard on the counter’s edge. I know the sound could be heard clear across the store. Is she all right? It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have rushed her.”
The Manager Mr. Harvey lifted Stacy’s hand and felt for a pulse, and then laid his ear close to her chest. “Oh my God, she’s not breathing, and I don’t hear a heart beat. Quickly,” he told the other man. “I’ll pump her chest five times and then you pinch her nose closed and blow into her mouth. Then we’ll repeat it. Five times, I’ll pump then stop, while you breathe into her. We can’t wait for the EMTs to get here. If we do, this young woman will die right here on the sales floor.”
***
The man in black moved closer waiting. He wanted to tell these do-gooders to stop interfering. This young woman’s time on earth was over, and his assignment was to escort her soul to heaven.
His spiritual name on the dead side was Ezekiel, now one of many being punished for a terrible sin they’d committed during their lifetime on earth. To pay for their sin, they were assigned to be soul gatherers. They waited for death, and guided the newly dead souls into the next world.
Ezekiel really disliked this task. Most of the newly dead didn’t believe they were dead, and fought Ezekiel’s every effort to guide them. The souls were afraid of him and thought he was a demon who wanted to drag them to hell for their sins when actually; it was Ezekiel who was struggling to stay out of hell by accepting the task as a soul gatherer. His name hadn’t always been Ezekiel. This was the biblical name the powers that be gave him to use while paying penitence for his sin.
Ezekiel stood at the forks in the road, one path led to heaven, and the other to hell. One slip of disobedience and the soul gatherers from hell would drag him down to hell.
Ezekiel was working to earn steps down the right fork of the path, and gain forgiveness for his sin. He wanted to be allowed to enter heaven. How long his punishment would continue, he didn’t know. It had already been many years. He’d lost count.
Occasionally after he’d finished escorting a soul to heaven, if he had time, he would look in on his wife Holly. Of course, she couldn’t see him or talk to him. He just wanted to make sure she was all right. He could tell the years were passing because Holly was beginning to look very old. While she aged, he stayed the same. Her face was wrinkled, her hair had turned white, and she had a slight limp from the pain of an arthritic hip. Now and then, he would notice her rubbing that hip as if she was trying to rub away the pain. He wished there was something he could do for her.
She had never remarried after he’d died and he wondered why. Holly had been an attractive woman. He wondered if she was lonely however, she stayed busy with activities outside of her sales job. He followed her once and found she went to a friend’s home where she was part of a book club. She also spent time at the community center tutoring young students in English. He could see she was all right and she wasn’t lonely.
She had taken in a stray cat she called Tattoo because of one white spot on his upper front leg. The rest of his coat was a deep gray. Tattoo seemed always to know when Ezekiel checked in on his mistress. He hissed and growled at Ezekiel. If Holly happened to at home, she would give him a stern, “What’s wrong with you Tattoo? What are you growling at?”
Ezekiel left Holly to her books, and Tattoo to his nap on the sofa, and went to wait at the spot where he was summoned to help a newly dead soul make their transition into the spirit world.
What was Ezekiel’s crime you wonder? What could he have done that was so horrible that he would have to serve heaven as a soul gatherer? SUICIDE. The one sin that was considered unforgivable. He had taken the most precious gift given to man and flung it to the wayside as something, useless, and unwanted. That’s the sin Ezekiel committed when he thought the only way out of the bad situation he’d gotten himself into, was to kill himself.
Just like any father, that tells his son, if you disobey, you will be punished so you’d better change your mind. If the son makes the wrong decision, there are consequences to pay for every decision, and the consequence Ezekiel paid was not only losing his life but also losing his soul. He was now an empty shell. For him there was no love, no laughter, no closeness, no warmth or the friendship of another being. All that was left was the cold loneliness of isolation. He would give anything; do anything, for another chance. Another chance at life and this time, he swore he would do it right. If only…
Every time he brought a new soul to the gates of heaven, he would ask the saints welcoming the newcomer, how much longer? How much longer before I’ve paid for my sin and can have a second chance. Surely, this can’t be the end. Isn’t there any forgiveness for me? How much longer do I have to do penitence before I can have my soul back? I’m so empty without it. Ezekiel would drop to his knees and beg for another chance at life. The chance to go back and do it over again. The saints would turn away ignoring Ezekiel’s pleas. It was as if he was invisible. They would neither see nor hear him.
He was shunned, as shunned as those pitiful lepers the Bible spoke of that hid in dark cold caves waiting and hoping for someone to bring food and leave it outside the cave entrance. Maybe leave a kind word and news of loved ones for them before they hurried away with their mouth and nose covered. They were afraid that just being near the leper caves might infect them with that horrible flesh eating disease.
Ezekiel would struggle to his feet when he realized the saints wouldn’t notice him and he quietly walked away, back down the path to earth to wait for his next assignment.
This time his assignment was Stacy Winters. Beautiful young Stacy Winters. He stood watching the effort to save her life. He wanted to tell these two men who were working over her to stop interfering with his assignment, to leave the woman alone, let nature take its course. Don’t make his job harder than it already was. The young woman’s time was up and he needed to help her cross over to the other side. He could see her soul was struggling to free itself of the body that housed it. All he had to do was reach out, take her hand, and pull her free of her earthly body. However, these two men were in his way.
The two men worked giving Stacy CPR for several minutes. Then just as they were about to give up and admit she was gone. Ezekiel moved closer and reached out a hand, ready to help Stacy’s soul step out of her earthly body when, she suddenly sucked in a breath, her body jerked, and she opened her eyes. There was still life there. Ezekiel backed away.
“Oooo,” she moaned and reached a hand up to her throbbing head to touch the still painful spot where it had struck the counter. Her fingertips came away red with blood.
“Are you alright Miss Winters? Your head took quite a bump.” Ned Thomas the store manager leaned over her staring into her eyes.
Then Ezekiel was neither angry nor disappointed. He was glad this young woman would have a second chance at life. He would have to wait now for her newly rewound life’s clock to run down again. Then he could finish his assignment and take her soul. Maybe there wouldn’t be any do-gooder’s around to interfere the next time. He had plenty of time, an eternity in fact, he would wait, and watch. He moved away through the crowd. There were other souls dying every day that needed his help and guidance to cross over to the other side.
However, there were those souls that refused to cross over. They were terrified that their sins couldn’t be forgiven. They were afraid their sins were so terrible that crossing over to judgment, meant the only place for them would be hell. Therefore, those newly dead souls wouldn’t follow Ezekiel. The soul struggled against his every effort to guide them over. He couldn’t force them to go with him. There was that thing called free will. They had to go with him of their own free will.
They believed they would be punished for their sins, and would run from Ezekiel to walk lost between earth and the other side. A lost soul. A ghost, doomed to stand in the shadows, hide in a dark closet, sit in a corner of a hot stuffy attic passing the time watching dust motes float in a draft coming from an unsealed crack around a window.
The souls would slip out quietly in the night to watch the still living enjoying their lives. They were pitiful lost souls all because they were afraid to face judgment. If only they could realize that their judgment of themselves was a punishment worse than whatever judgment they might receive from up above.
Sometimes a homeowner heard bumping in the attic, and footsteps pacing across the attic floor. Upon careful examination when no squirrels or birds could be found causing the noise, they would realize a ghost had moved in and was living with them in the house. Things would be moved, they might wake up in the night to see a shadow figure dart through the bedroom. Or, peering down at the sleepers from above. They would even be touched when the ghost wanting help tried to get their attention. If the disturbances became too bothersome, the homeowner called in a priest to bless the house, and if that didn’t get rid of the ghost then to force the spirit out, the ghost-busters were called to cleanse the house. Ezekiel tried his best to convince the dead soul that punishment wasn’t waiting for them up above, just love.
Only after years of the dead soul haunting a house, they became so tired of their self-imposed punishment they finally searched for Ezekiel or another soul gatherer and begged him to show them the way to the other side. They were ready to face whatever was waiting for them there. No punishment there could be worse than the punishment the soul had dealt himself.
***
The store Manager Ned Thomas for Blake’s Dress Shop, fumbled through Stacy Winter’s purse looking for her wallet, and reading the name Ellen Moore aloud, tossed her purse and wallet aside. “Miss Moore, are you alright?” He lifted her head and his fingers came away bloody. “You suffered quite a fall,” he said and pressed his clean handkerchief to her head wound.
“This young woman is a new employee and started work here last week,” he told the man who helped him with the CPR.
Ned Thomas patted Stacy’s cheek to keep her attention, and not let her slip back into unconsciousness. Lifting her head, he slipped his rolled up coat under it. “Miss Moore? Miss Moore, can you hear me?”
Stacy heard a man’s voice coming from what seemed like far away. “Moore? Who is Miss Moore?” She wondered fighting off the blackness that threatened to take her again.
“Miss Moore? Can you hear me? Are you all right? Pay attention to me. Wake up now.” Stacy heard this man’s voice becoming a little more insistent.
Stacy opened her eyes and looked up at the man hovering over her. He was a stranger and his face was blurry, but after a few moments, her vision began to clear. She didn’t recognize anything or anyone hovering over or around her. “Where am I?” she asked trying to sit up but dizziness forced her back down.
“The name on your dress tag and the ID in your wallet says you are Miss Ellen Moore. I’m glad you’re back with us. You gave us quite a scare. You took a spill when you stumbled over that plastic hanger some dunce left on the floor. You hit your head right hard on the counter’s edge.” Ned Thomas told her reaching down to pick up the coat hanger so no one else would trip over it.
“Who are you, and more importantly, where am I?” Stacy asked again looking around but not recognizing anything. Her eyes began to close again and she drifted on the edge of unconsciousness. She wanted to sleep, and wished this man with his insistent voice would shut up, and let her drift back into sleep where it was quiet, safe, and warm. She pushed at the hands that tried to lift her into a sitting position.
“I can’t keep my eyes open,” she mumbled again, her words sounded like she was trying to talk around a mouth full of marshmallows.
“I’m the store Manager Ned Thomas, and this is Blake’s Dress Shop. You started working here a couple of days ago. The tag pinned to your dress says your name is Ellen Moore.”
Stacy closed her eyes again and began to drift away.
“No, no, Miss Moore, stay awake.” Ned Thomas could see the young woman was about to slip away. He began patting her cheek again. Ned was looking worried that maybe she wasn’t all right after all. He could smell a lawsuit rearing its ugly head, and it was his own fault. He should have ignored that phone call and brought out the ladder she needed to get down the box of earrings. “Wake up Miss Moore.” He patted her cheek again. “Are you awake now? Are you alright?” He lifted her up into a sitting position hoping that would bring her around.
Stacy opened her eyes and looked at the man’s face hovering above her. He was a total stranger. Nothing was familiar about him nor did she recognize anyone in the group of people staring down at her. She struggled to fight off the dizziness. “What did you say was the name of this store?” Stacy asked.
“This is Blake’s Dress Shop Miss Moore. You started work here a couple of days ago. Don’t you remember?”
“No, and you have my name wrong, I’m not Miss Moore. My name is Stacy Winters.” She looked around again. “And ….this is supposed to be Gibson’s Department Store. I work in the silver department right over…there…no, the silver department is supposed to be right here where I’m sitting…” Stacy pointed down as where she thought the silver department should be but wasn’t.
All she could see throughout this store was rack after rack of dresses, coats, blouses, slacks, and counter’s of embarrassingly skimpy lacy under garments. There was no silver department, no fine china, no shiny pots and pans, or any other of the upscale household merchandise that was Gibson’s trademark for being the finest house-wares store in Charleston. Where the silver department should be was now Blake’s Dress Shop’s costume jewelry department.
“What’s going on here? I don’t understand what’s happened to me. There’s nothing familiar about this store. When I came to work this morning this store was Gibson’s Department Store, and filled with expensive house-wares, not dresses.” She waved her hand around.
“Miss Moore, you took quite a fall and it’s obvious that blow to your head has left you confused.” Ned Thomas reached out and lifted the nametag pinned to her dress. “Look, it say’s right here, Ellen Moore. If that’s not your name, then why would you be wearing someone else’s nametag?” Ned Thomas was worried now that the blow to her head had affected her memory and she wasn’t all right after all. He helped her to her feet, and she swayed a little before gaining her balance.
Stacy looked down at her nametag and read it upside down. Ellen Moore. She unpinned it, held it out so her eyes could focus, and read it right side up hoping it said Stacy Winters. Still it read Ellen Moore. As if it burned her fingers, she dropped the foreign nametag on the glass-topped counter.
Then looking down at herself, she realized the dress she had didn’t belong to her either. A green silk dress with tiny white poker dots. She had never owned a dress like this, and couldn’t even picture herself buying a green poker dot dress. Leprechaun is what jumped into her mind. This wasn’t her style at all. Just looking down at the sea of poker dots made her swimmy headed again. She took a few wobbly steps and had to clutch the counter to keep from falling.
Looking around Stacy told the manager that this was definitely not the upscale house- wares store where she worked, and she insisted her name was not Ellen Moore, but Stacy Winters. Her words were barely audible and Ned Thomas had to lean forward a little to understand what she was saying.
Now with the excitement over most of the customers wandered away. Those shoppers that were still standing there were offering advice. One woman said, “Maybe she needs to go to the emergency room to be checked out.” Others agreed. “You can’t be too careful with head injuries. She must have some brain damage, maybe a skull fracture if she’s confused about her name or where she works.”
Ned Thomas looked at Stacy and agreed. “Miss Moore, do you want to go to the hospital to be checked out? I can drive you there.” He couldn’t force her to go, only suggest it. “That was a bad blow to your head, and there’s a small cut. It doesn’t look serious or even as though it needs stitches but, maybe a doctor should make that determination. I’m no doctor.”
“No, I’m sure I’ll be alright, I just need a few moments to get my bearings.” Stacy lifted the white handkerchief and looked at the small spot of blood. “There, the cut’s already stopped bleeding.” Stacy tried to assure everyone standing around her that she was all right but, her words still came out slurred.
Mrs. Worth, the elderly sales clerk who’d been training Ellen Moore to her job in the jewelry department stepped forward laying a hand on the manager’s arm. “Miss Moore is not thinking clearly Mr. Thomas and she isn’t talking plainly either. I really think you should drive her on over to the hospital to be checked out.”
Stacy stared at a woman who claimed to be training her to her job behind the jewelry counter. The woman was a total stranger too. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life. Stacy thought to herself.
One of the customers offered their personal story. “I remember my sister took a bad hit on her head and she had a fractured skull as a result. She swore her little finger was broken because it hurt like crazy. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with her finger, the pain was a result of the head fracture.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Ned Thomas put his hand under Stacy’s elbow helping to guide and steady her. “Let me take you to the emergency room Miss Moore. If you’re worried about the cost, don’t. Since you were injured here, the store will pay for it. Or, if that doesn’t suit you, we can go next door to the coffee shop and have some lunch and coffee. Maybe your blood sugar is low and that’s making you dizzy. You can rest there and get your bearings back.” Ned looked at his watch. Eleven-thirty, it’s not too early for lunch, so maybe something to eat and a cup of coffee would help Miss Moore put things back into perspective. “If you’re still feeling out of it after you have some lunch, then I’ll take you to the hospital. You might very well have a concussion.”
Stacy heard Ned Thomas say coffee shop next door. She shook her head. “There isn’t a coffee shop next door; it’s the City Camera and Photo Shop.”
This young woman is really out of it Ned thought. He guided her to the store’s front doors. “Come I’ll show you there is a coffee shop next door, I should know, I have lunch there every day. I think I would know if it had been moved during the night. I also saw it there this morning when I was coming in to work.”
Is this man trying to be a smart-ass Stacy wondered? Maybe I too should know what the name of the store is since I’ve been working next door to it for several years.
Outside on the sidewalk Stacy stopped and looked around. Everything was changed, different. All of the buildings looked the same however, however there were different names on the storefronts and different businesses inside each store. What the heck is going on here? She wondered. This isn’t the downtown part of old Charleston that I know. Fear of the unknown washed over her. She had always hated surprises.
Across the street was supposed to be the drugstore where she bought her toiletries and over the counter drugs. Occasionally when she had a prescription from her doctor she would have it filled there in the pharmacy. In the place where the drugstore was supposed to be was now, a vacuum cleaner shop. In the front windows was a display with different vacuums along with a blinking florescent sign that said, Fast Repairs.
In the shop next to the vacuum shop were window treatments with draperies displayed hanging from the ceiling to the show window floor. Stacy remembered that shop as being an insurance company. In fact, it was time to make a payment on her car insurance. The bill had come in her mailbox day before yesterday. Now with the company having disappeared into who knows where, how was she supposed to make the payment? That brought up another thought. Where was her car? Did this Ellen Moore even own a car? Stacy tried to remember her own car’s make and model. Her mind was a blank.
Everything was crazy and nothing as she remembered. A lump grew in her throat and she tried swallowing it down. She wanted to cry but was ashamed to let this Ned Thomas person see her in such a vulnerable position. She had always took pride in herself as being a strong woman, and able to handle herself in any situation. However, this is something different. This situation is something out of the normal scheme of things.
“You see Miss Moore; this is a coffee shop just as I said.” Ned Thomas pointed at the sign over the storefront. Beside the words Coffee Shop, the sign showed a cup sitting in a saucer. “I’ve never known this store to be anything else but a coffee shop, and I’ve lived here all of my life.”
It sounded to Stacy as if this man was a father and she the child he was teaching about how to find her way around town. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t a child and she wasn’t stupid. She should know where she left her film to be developed, and it wasn’t in a coffee pot she thought sarcastically. Was someone playing a cruel joke on her, or she was asleep and having a nightmare. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please…please when I open my eyes let the world be back to normal, my normal world as Stacy Winters, not this Ellen Moore’s normal world. She waited a moment then opened her eyes to see she was still in a crazy world where nothing made sense.
“Mr. Thomas, I know this was a photo shop this morning,” she insisted. “I brought two rolls of film into this very building and dropped them off to be developed on my way to work at Gibson’s Department Store…, not Blake’s Dress shop.”
“Oh God, what’s happening to me? Where am I?” Stacy cried out. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She couldn’t help it or hold them back, and she buried her face in her hands, still ashamed to let her emotions show. Her hand swept around. “I swear to you, none of this existed this morning when I came in to work.”
Ned Thomas held the Coffee Shop door open for Ellen go in ahead of him, and then led her over to a booth by the window. Getting her seated he sat down across the table from her. “This is the booth where I usually sit if it’s vacant. I like to sit here by the window and watch the traffic while I eat and rest. Being on my feet all day and the manager of a large store like Blake’s is quite stressful. I need to get time away from it all.”
“I imagine it is stressful,” Stacy agreed.
Eloise, one of the morning waitresses, being a motherly type always wanted to take care of everyone. She should have been a nurse. She came over to take their order. “How are you this morning Mr. Thomas. You’re early today but I think the cook has dinner close to being ready. Why not have a cup of coffee while I see how the pot roast is coming along. The cook surrounded the roast with onions, carrots, and potatoes. It’s a meal in its self without ordering anything else. But, as for me, I like the crunch of some coleslaw along with it.”
“Alright, we’ll both have coffee with cream. Eloise, this young woman is Ellen Moore, a new employee at Blake’s. She had an accident in the store this morning when she stumbled over a hanger someone carelessly dropped and left on the floor. She hit her head on the counter’s edge as she went down, and the blow has left her a little confused.”
“You poor dear,” Eloise sympathized. “Well, our coffee is made with beans that have a special ingredient and will perk you right up. She rushed off to the get the coffee, and in a few minutes, she was back placing two steaming mugs on the table but spilling a couple drops as she set the cups down. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back to mop that up.”
Ellen was rubbing her temples in a circular motion with her fingers.
Eloise came right back with a towel and noticed her rubbing her head. “Sweetie does your head hurt?” Eloise asked looking concerned. I have a bottle of aspirin behind the counter. Would you like a couple tablets? I keep them for when this job gives me a headache, which is often. However, I’ve gotten to know everyone in this area of town and if I left this coffee shop for a less stressful job, I’d really miss my customers. I’ve come to love them all, you too Ned Thomas. She leaned over and whispered to Stacy. “He’s quite a hunk don’t you think? I wish I were a few years younger.”
Ned overheard and smiled.
“Yes he is and thank you, I would really appreciate two aspirin and a glass of water.” Ellen continued to rub her temples.
Eloise brought a glass of cold water and shook two aspirin tablets from the bottle into Stacy’s hand. She watched while Ellen washed them down with several swallows of water.
“You’ll feel better as soon as those tablets take effect. Also you need a good meal in your stomach.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.” Mr. Thomas told Ellen as he pushed the cup of coffee closer in front of her as a hint for her to pick up the cup.
Stacy took a sip of the hot liquid without adding any sugar or cream. I wish he would stop calling me Ellen she thought silently. It’s not my name but I’m not going to push the issue just yet.
Eloise stood close by waiting and watching the young woman. She didn’t want her to faint and fall on the floor, or faint and spill the hot coffee in her lap. “How’s that coffee?” She asked stepping closer ready to grab the mug if the young woman began to faint.
“Didn’t you want to add some cream and sugar? If your blood sugar is low, that will raise it and stop the shakes. Worried, Eloise offered her advice. “I’m not a doctor but I know a little about blood sugar drops and how it makes you feel.”
“No, I always take my coffee black.” She took two more sips and set the cup down pushing it away. “Thank you but I’m so worried and upset, I’m just not able to eat or drink anything right now. I have to figure out where I am and what’s happened to me. This…,” she waved her hand around, “Is certainly not the Charleston, South Carolina I know.”
“Mr. Thomas, I think I would just like to go home where everything is normal until I get over this…, this, whatever it is that’s happened to me. Please can you drive me home? If I came in a car, I don’t remember where I left it, or even what kind of car I had.” Stacy swiped at fresh tears that were threatening to overflow.
Ned started to tell her the name of this city wasn’t Charleston but for the moment, he thought better of it. “Of course,” Ned said offering his hand to help pull Stacy up out of the narrow booth. “Come on, I’ll drive you home and you can crawl in bed and sleep this off. I’m sure everything will be back to normal by morning. If it isn’t, I strongly suggest you see a doctor. As I told you, the store will pay your medical bills so lack of money shouldn’t stop you.”
“I certainly hope everything will be back to normal, because right now everything is very abnormal.”
“Is there someone at your apartment to look after you?”
“My roommate should still be there. She works second shift and doesn’t go to work until in the afternoon.”
A scruffy looking boy in his late teens and wearing a black knitted stocking cap had just come into the coffee shop and sat down on a stool at the counter. He saw Stacy get up and leave her purse on the booth seat. Lucky me, it’s about time I caught a break. The teen seized that opportunity to grab a little cash. He watched the couple leave the coffee shop and when the door closed behind Stacy and Ned, the youth quickly slipped into the seat Stacy had vacated. No need wasting a full cup of coffee either he thought smiling at his good fortune, he looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled Stacy’s cup in front of him. Eloise was busy serving two men a few tables away, so he decided he was in the clear. Everyone’s eyes were on the TV set hanging on the wall in the corner showing highlights of last night’s football game. When he was sure it was safe, he removed the wallet from Stacy’s purse and his heart leaped with excitement. A cell phone too. He stuffed both the wallet and phone into in his green jacket pocket. He could use the phone until the minutes ran out, and then toss it in the trash.
Looking around again and still saw no one was looking at him, so he dropped the purse on the floor under his seat. He would wait until after he got out of here and into a private place, before checking to see how much money was in the wallet.
After adding cream and sugar to the cup, he stirred the creamy liquid then lifted the coffee mug to his lips, placing his bottom lip on the faint lipstick print Stacy had left on the cup. We just kissed he thought smiling. Draining the cup, he placed the cup back across the table with Ned’s empty one.
Before finding the purse, he planned to offer to wash dishes or anything the Coffee Shop needed done to earn his lunch. But now that he’d found the purse, he turned away from the other customers and took a quick peek inside. His heart skipped a beat and he told himself thanks to Miss Green Dress, he could afford a burger and fries. He gave the waitress an innocent smile as she walked over to take his order and remove the coffee cups. “Oh, I’ll have a coke with that too,” he added politely.
Ned led Stacy to his car in the parking lot behind Blake’s Dress Shop. She paused and stared at the name on the storefront. This morning when she came in to work the sign had read Gibson’s Department Store in big three dimensional gold letters. She even remembered stopping to look at the window display of china and stemware, and admiring the pattern of blue roses around the rim of the displayed china. She remembered thinking how she would like to have that pattern one day when she had her own home.
She even remembered seeing a few seagulls sitting on the edge of Blake’s store roof; they were on the alert for any food that happened to be dropped by a passing shopper. She guessed the birds had come in from the beach searching for food.