0 comments/ 8973 views/ 4 favorites Traveler By: markelly (This story left me in doubt over which category to place it under. There is no sex in this story, you will understand why when you read it. I hope you enjoy the read, I did the best with the idea that stuck in my head and wouldn't let go.) My very special thanks go to LSEiland for her editing. I had been chasing this ghost for over two years now. It all started as a conversation with a boat builder friend of mine. He mentioned a story I may be interested in for the paper. The trouble was, every time I tried to get confirmation on anything, sources either denied the alleged facts or up and disappeared. This guy was only known by the name of the Traveler. Anything else about him became a mass of contradictions. The Traveler was middle aged; he was a hundred years old; he only used the waterways to get around, yet had been seen in two states a hundred miles apart at the same time. This man was wanted for murder in Kentucky, yet no such crime was on record. The Police had nothing on him, but every water ways authority official I talked to said that Traveler had passed through here a couple of days ago. My boat builder friend had asked around for me and was met with silence from many or told to leave the Traveler be. Yet to me, this Traveler had become an enigma I just couldn't put down. I had invested over a thousand miles, and two years of my life, on this story. Even my editor had told me to walk away, calling it a dead end. Label it professional pride, but I just couldn't give this story up. I had just got a call from a contact I had cultivated over in Missouri. My lead said that some woman had come to him and asked about me, and if I was still snooping around. He said she had some information, but would only talk to me face to face. For nearly a month, steady negotiations had taken place via my contact, and finally lead to me sitting in the corner booth of a diner. She was already a half hour late. I was just about to chalk this down to another dead end when my corner of the diner got dark. I looked up at a woman staring down at me. Her smile put me at ease. She put out her hand, and her smile just got bigger. "I guess you're the reporter looking for information about Traveler?" Standing and holding her hand got me a real good look at her. Eye contact seemed to be important to her since she never took her eyes off me. She stood about 5-foot-6-inches tall; a brunette with deep brown eyes that made you never want to look away. "If I ask you to walk away from this story, would you? Even if I said 'please walk away from this story,' would you?" I contemplated what to say for a moment and I realized that I was torn over this whole thing. But, two years of my life had been spent on a half-baked story; whispers and denials of a man who either didn't exist, or is a hundred years old. The woman watched as I slowly shook my head. Her smile faltered for a moment. She then shrugged her shoulders and sat down across from me, picking up the menu as she did. "Well if you want this story, it's going to cost you lunch since I've not had any breakfast." I laughed and mentioned that for a story to cost me so little was a welcome relief. She just looked at me and winked before her attention was once again on the menu. The waitress came up and the woman told her what she wanted, and that she was to put it on my bill. The waitress looked at me for confirmation and I nodded before she wrote it down and left. "So, Mr. Robert Douglas of Illinois, what do you want?" Felling that I may actually be getting somewhere with this story, I pulled out my notepad and also placed a small tape machine on the table. I asked if it was okay to use this since I couldn't even read my own handwriting at times. She laughed, and I listened. Damn what a sweet laugh she had. This woman watched as I spent a few moments setting things up. "I would have thought you had everything ready." My first thought was to say nothing, but then I stopped what I was doing and once again looked at her. "With the time it's taken to get you here via our mutual friend, I wasn't even sure until you stood in front of me that you would actually turn up." "Which, of course, brings us back to my original question, Mr. Robert Douglas." Her eyes got hard; she placed her arms on the table and leaned on them. She waited, almost taunting me to answer her question and daring me to listen to the answer. "Do you mind if I ask you your name first?" Again she shrugged her shoulders. Her answer was one word, and that one word left me wondering who she really was. "Traveler." The pause in our conversation was made even longer because her food came and she set about it like she hadn't eaten in weeks. She must also have seen the frustration as I packed away my notebook and pens. "Now cool your heels, Mr. Robert Douglas of Illinois. For two years you have stuck your nose into my business, and now it's my turn to find out why?" At first I wasn't going to answer her; two fucking years of my life. Countless hours of research and dead end leads led me to this... This street urchin. My editor was right; it was time to get back to the real stories out there. As I made to get up, something very sharp buried itself into the zipper of my pants and rested against my cock. It was cold and very sharp and the urge to move was quickly cancelled out by the need to keep all my bodily parts attached to my body. Her eyes had changed. Although the smile still graced her lips, her eyes burned. There was no longer any life within them. "There are a couple of things you may need to learn in a hurry. Don't stick me with the bill for my lunch, and when I tell you to cool your heels, I would advise you to do just that." "You realize this is assault?" The smile just got bigger. Some life seemed to return to her eyes, but not much. It was almost as if she was enjoying her own private joke. "Nope, this is called getting your attention. Assault is leaving you dead out back by the dumpster." My comfort level rose when I pulled my notebook back out of my bag. Her knife left my pants, leaving all of my body parts intact. She watched as I put the word 'Traveler' at the top of the page, and smiled as she went back to eating. "If it helps, my real name is Cassie. The day my daddy died, the name Traveler was passed onto me. I haven't heard anyone call me by my real name in almost eight years now." In that one sentence, I understood just a little more. No wonder Traveler could be in two places at one time. When I asked my sources about Traveler, they all thought I was talking about this girl. Gender was just assumed. We talked some more, but only in generalities as the contents of her plate rapidly decreased. My gut instinct told me to hang in there, yet the woman across from me gave me no impression that spending two years looking for a ghost was going to be worth it. My frustration grew as it became evident that she was giving me nothing that could justify those two years of investment in this supposed story were ever going to be worth spit. "Two years of fucking research gone down the drain." By now she had finished her lunch, and the waitress was pouring a refill of coffee into her cup when both of them heard my words. I looked up and apologized, placing my pen once again onto my pad and scoring a line right across the page. This time, I stood and caught both of them unexpectedly as I asked the waitress for the bill; even following her to the till so I could leave with just a little dignity and all my body parts intact. Two years of chasing a story that had so many dead ends, and now I understood why. Traveler wasn't one person, it was a family. Two fucking years of my life and now I knew. I wasn't chasing ghosts, I was chasing myths. Folk stories that had gotten handed down through the generations and changed just a little to suit the times, and the teller. My editor was going to give me a ration of shit for this when I told him. I'm sure the words 'I told you so' would get dropped into the conversation somewhere. ******* A year later, I got a call from my boat builder friend. Although he wouldn't talk much on the phone, he did extract a promise for me to pop by later that day. Even when I pulled up outside his office and noticed him leaning against the door, it was plain to see he had a look like someone had just shot his dog. "Coffee?" "Sure, although something tells me I may need something stronger later; so, why the secrecy?" He waited until I had my coffee in my hand before he went round to his desk and pulled a bottle of Jack out of the drawer. He then placed a newspaper next to it, folding a page he obviously wanted me to read. "Look Bobby, I felt like shit when you came back from that meeting with Traveler and told me it was a dead end. I know how much time you put into that story... The thing is." Even as he slid the newspaper along his desk, I was undecided if I wanted to read it. Both of us knew I would, but I was determined to hang it out until I had, at least, finished my coffee. After all, a man has his principles. My friend just sat and watched me, saying nothing. Sadly there is one thing about being a reporter; curiosity. A word that means so much and can get you into a heck of a lot of trouble all at the same time. It seems a young lady named Cassie Marshal had gotten into a bar fight. The odds were tilted against her since it took three men to put her in hospital. One of the men was in the same hospital, and the other two were now in jail awaiting trial. I couldn't help myself; I smiled. My humor at the situation was short lived. As I went to hand my friend back his paper, I noticed a story that the paper had obviously decided was unrelated. That same night, a boat caught fire and was totally destroyed on the waterway. Thanking my friend, and leaving, I made a few phone calls. My friend on the waterways authority gave me the name of the boat that was destroyed and told me that the fire department said it looked like arson. My next stop was the hospital, an hour's drive away. I hoped that Cassie would see me when I got there. ******* "Well, well, Mr. Robert Douglas of Illinois... To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" For the first time, I was at a loss as to what to call her. The Traveler story still wrangled with me. "It's good to see you're still breathing Cassie." My answer seemed to peak her interest. "And you give a shit, because?" This time, I smiled. Even though I walked away from the Traveler story, it never really walked away from me. My contacts at the waterways authority still kept calling with bits of information. I didn't have the heart to tell them it was a non-story, thinking or hoping perhaps one day it would be. Now, perhaps, I was looking at the story. As I made myself comfortable on a seat next to her bed, I pulled out my notebook, even adding to the drama by making it look like I was re-reading my notes. "Let me see; bar fight. You do have several witnesses detailing that you didn't start the fight. All of the witnesses say you gave a good account of yourself since each of these guys had a good fifty to eighty pounds on you." This time I looked into her eyes. "Not to mention the fact that each of these guys were armed with chains, boathooks and knives." Silence. Oh, she smiled, kept her eyes on me and tried to take a peek at my notebook but other than that, she just sat there. So I turned over the page and started again. "The Paramedic told me he had to plug three stab wounds before he could do much else with you. Two busted ribs on your left side and three bruised ribs on you right side. Want me to go on?" Again, she smiled. "Hell, why not; you're telling me more than this dump-of-a-hospital has been telling me, so go for it." I knew the rest by heart, so I put my notebook away. The Police got there first to find one of the assailants badly needing hospital treatment, one unconscious, and Cassie still in a fight with the last of them. They brought the assailant down with a taser and Cassie promptly collapsed on the floor. By this time, more police and an ambulance had arrived. One stab wound in the leg just nicking her thigh muscle, one to her left side tearing at muscle and bone on the way in and out, and one aimed at her heart. The knife guy didn't get enough pressure on the blade for that one, but he was right on target. Even when I interviewed the paramedic that treated Cassie this morning, he was reluctant to say much. A coffee or two loosened him up a little, and telling him I knew Cassie helped. I was glad he didn't ask how well I knew her. "She had lost so much blood, sir. I plugged the knife holes in her and got as much fluids into her as I could, but I felt like I was going through the motions with this one. Those three guys did a real number on her. The bruises around the ribs had already started to form. I patched her up as best I could and got her to the hospital real quick." The only time he smiled was when he said that when a police sergeant came in, he told one of the cars to act as an escort for the ambulance. When I said to the paramedic that a witness stated that one of the assailants had kicked Cassie between the legs, he flinched. After a moment, he nodded his head and told me that when he cut her pants off to get to the leg wound, the discoloration to the skin around her underwear gave him that impression. But since there was no sign of blood from that area, he didn't want to cut her underwear off while the police and so many people were still walking around. He left that wound for the hospital to deal with. The one other wound on her was a nasty gash on her right palm. It seems 'knife man' was the busiest of the three. I could tell that this one incident had left an impression on him, more so that Cassie had actually survived than anything. I still got no indication that Cassie was going to tell me anything, so I continued. "As you can imagine, since you're in hospital, your records are still confidential. So I haven't checked that paperwork out." Cassie laughed. The wince was a clear sign that she wished she hadn't. "Oh, I can fill you in on that one. Ten minutes in surgery and a slap on the wrist to tell me not to go into bars on my own in the future." Cassie said it with as much conviction as she could muster. She seemed to forget I was a reporter. She also lied. An hour in this hospital got me talking to one of the surgical nurses that attended to Cassie. They were in surgery for four hours, dealing with three knife wounds, internal injuries to both her leg and chest area, and bleeding. The nurse counted six pints of blood going into Cassie on the table. That's not including what they stuck into her while she was still on the critical list. When I mentioned the man kicking her between the legs, the nurse came close to tears. "She was a mess down there. When we cut her panties off, the surgeon had to take a step back and compose himself again. It was clearly done with a boot on. The seams of her jeans were still visible along her labia area; such was the force of the blow." Cassie still gave me nothing, so we sat and chatted about her boat; although she made light of that conversation as well. "I remember once when I was still doing some schooling, I read about those Vikings. When their chief dies, they send him away on his boat and shoot burning arrows into it. I guess those three got there timing wrong. Perhaps I was supposed to be on my boat when it went up in flames." The nurse came and told me that visiting hours were over. Cassie and I watched each other for a moment. I'm not sure if either of us had anything left to say. I stopped at the nurse's station for a moment so I could get some background information. It was clear to see that Cassie was in an observation room. The picture on the screen showed Cassie with her hands to her face, sobbing her heart out. ******* I got a call from reception that some detective wanted to talk to me. They sent him up and he introduced himself, telling me that he was investigating the bar fight. He mentioned that in the ten days that Cassie had been in hospital, I had been her only visitor. Then he asked me of my involvement in the case. There was no reason to go all secretive on him, so I told him everything; from my friend finding out about Traveler, right up to my visit with Cassie at the hospital. What few notes I had, he read in the file I handed him. "Some of this goes back two years. Why were you on this so long, and yet have so little in this file." "Two things, detective; at the time, Traveler was an enigma I couldn't put down. All that time, it just felt like I was chasing a ghost. Second, the water people are a secretive bunch, as I'm sure you have found with your own investigation. Hell, you have to be two-generations-born around the waterways before you're even deemed a local." "Information was slow - and got slower- until Cassie came to me and asked me to walk away from any story regarding Traveler. Once I realized the truth behind Traveler, I did walk away until I read about Cassie in the newspaper." Whatever I said must have struck a chord with the detective, because he nodded his head before handing me back my file. I walked him back to reception as we talked about Cassie. "The hospital wants to release her, but she still needs to convalesce. She refuses to give any names of friends we can contact, and her boat is nothing but scrap now. We need her out of the area for a while, until things cool down. The three men at the bar were brothers. People in the area are starting to take sides." "But they started the fight. Every witness I talked to said the same thing." "You don't understand the ways of the water people, Mr. Douglas. Traveler bested three men in a bar fight. Freight companies who want their materials moved remember that, and when she has another boat under her, she's set for life. Or, as long as she has a life." We shook, and he left. I called my friend on the waterways authority and he flat out refused to talk to me. The detective was right, people were taking sides now. On a hunch, I talked to my editor. The fact that the police had just been here leant weight to my idea, and he agreed. I was on a plane three hours later, and standing face to face with my contact at the waterways authority, George Beckwith, two hours after that. "You shouldn't have come. I told you I didn't want to talk to you." "George, you introduced me to Traveler; what the hell is going on?" For such a long time, he stood staring at me; fidgeting from foot to foot, trying to decide what to do. "Look... If you can help her, then do it. The authorities have already cut her loose. You're wasting time; the waterways are no place for her anymore." George walked away, climbed into his car, and left. Part of me felt I had started this, and that's the part I listened to. I phoned the detective when I got to the airport. He had everything ready by the time I landed, and Cassie silently watched the scenery pass as she sat in the back seat of my car an hour later. It still took me two hours to get home. I helped Cassie into her room and showed her everything I thought she may need. "You're still too badly banged up for me to hitch a hammock in here, so you're going to have to join us freaks and sleep in a real bed." "Well, I hope no one's watching. I'm never going to live this down." I truly hoped no one was watching as well. My first hurdle was changing the bandages. With her hand still bandaged up, the nurse dressed her for me before we left. I made a list of what the hospital gave me, and took the list with me to the drugstore. When they asked, I just said I wanted three of everything on the list. The girl behind the counter asked who I was going to war with. Traveler Cassie tried so hard not to cry out, just as I tried so hard not to place too much pressure on so much damaged area. Sadly that night neither of us got our wish, once I dropped the used tissue into the bowl and pulled my hand away the blood was clear to see. I washed my hands and Cassie told me not to worry, that Doc Hartman had told her that something like that was likely to happen. I carried her back to bed, got a pad and placed it into her panties before putting them on her. She smiled at my clumsy attempt, and helped when she could. We both knew what she was tempted to say; I was just glad she didn't. Cassie slept once I gave her one of the doctor's pain meds. I sat in the chair opposite her and tried to sleep as well. Sadly, it was an exercise in futility. Her crying woke me up. When I figured out she was crying in her sleep, I left her to it. Both the Doc and Cassie had warned me this wasn't fixable overnight. ******* For the next week, we had a very loose routine going for ourselves; bandages changes twice a day. I figured her bathroom breaks out as well, and planed accordingly. Her one great fear was still the one that had her doubled over in terror, but that always seemed to be late evening, before bedtime. We had tried giving her a pain med when she started to fidget and show signs of anxiety. In both our minds, we hoped it was taking the edge off. The bleeding would last for a few minutes, and I would continue to change her pad. "Go on, admit it; you're more used to getting girls out of their panties than into them." I saw the bait, and refused to rise to it. Doc Hartman was pleased with her progress. I was just pleased that she wasn't screaming out in pain as much at night when her body forced her to do her bathroom rituals. The crying in her sleep became periodic as well. By the third week, the doc wanted to send her for a scan. At least this nurse didn't cry at the damage to Cassie, although I get the feeling that she assumed I was the culprit. Doc Hartman called us into his office a couple of days later and showed us the pictures. He had a smile on his face and used words that only women seemed to understand. When he looked at the confused look on my face, he rolled his eyes and mumbled that I was to keep doing what I was doing. Those words I could understand. The color of the bruises around her pussy had changed to a more acceptable skin tone. Her hand wound still needed to be kept covered since the palm of the hand took longer to heal. The doc wanted us to come back in a few days to take some stitches out and take another scan. It was the weekend, and she knew I was due back to work on Monday. The only time we ever dressed was when we went to the doctor. To give Cassie some quiet time so she could rest, I grocery shopped alone. We did get a phone call Saturday morning. Detective Daniels was checking up on us both, to see if we had killed each other yet. Cassie spoke to him for a few minutes. He told her that all three of the Mendez brothers had pleaded guilty, so she would not need to be at the courthouse. Cassie thanked him and put the phone down. It was clear she didn't wish to talk about it further. I think the look I gave her made her change her mind. "Abe Mendez and my father went way back. He knows that making his sons plead guilty will get them out quicker, and he's also paid the debt he owed my father. The slate is clean now; if I go anywhere near the waterways as Traveler, then honor would mean he'd have to kill me personally." Cassie stood and walked back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. I left her alone for a few minutes, but wasn't about to leave her stewing too long. After ten minutes, I leaned against the door frame and said, "Get dressed, I'm taking you to meet someone." "Who?" "The guy who started all this." I phoned ahead to make sure he was there, and we were on the road thirty minutes later. The sign for Barry Mitchell's boat yard came in view as the clock above his door reached mid-day. When I introduced Cassie, it was like I was introducing royalty to him. For the next hour, although I heard the occasional boating term, they may as well have been speaking Japanese. It never occurred to me that the water people had their own language. He took Cassie on a tour of the yard and the maintenance sheds. When Barry took us back into the office, he pulled out what looked like an architect drawing. They both leaned onto his table and pointed to parts of it. I swear the man was trying to hide an erection. For my part, I found the coffee pot and made myself comfortable. The scene in front of me both bewildered and encouraged me at the same time. This was the first time since her incident that I had seen Cassie so alive. The river ways were now a death sentence to her; I just wondered if coming to my friend's boat yard would be enough for her. Even with her body healing up nicely, Cassie still insisted on the naked thing. The bandage between her tits was never replaced. The stitches were due to be taken out mid-week, as was the wound on her thigh. She wanted as much air circulating around the wound as possible. Although her pain meds still came into effect for her bathroom rituals in the evenings, she could at least go with some semblance of dignity now. I watched this woman every day as she dealt with what had happened to her body. High pain threshold or not, she had never given up. Her spirit through these last weeks had been tested to its extreme, and she just got on with it. I was proud of her and told her so every single day. Sometimes that comment was welcomed, other times I ignored the tirade knowing that the woman was in more pain than I could ever conceive. The following Sunday, we spent time going over phone numbers she could use if she needed to contact me. Her computer skills put mine in the shade, so I didn't bother going over stuff she already knew. On Monday morning, I still put Detective Daniels' phone number on a note and taped it to the computer screen. It was the weirdest feeling being let out of my apartment by a naked woman as she asked what I wanted for dinner. ******* I spent almost an hour going over the Traveler story with my editor, and bringing him up to date with her medical progress. We both knew it would be a death sentence to publish it- even a heavily edited version of it. So once I got back to my desk, I shredded everything I had about Traveler. A report of a drive-by shooting came in soon after, so I was out of the office most of the day. Other than Cassie calling my cell to make sure I wasn't going to be late home, it was just another day at the office. On Wednesday, Dr. Hartman took more of her stitches out and sent Cassie for another scan. He gave her one more prescription for pain meds, and warned her that he would be taking her off them when they ran out. He smiled a lot more when he got the scan results back, and mentioned that, other than the hand injury, there was little left to do but go out and enjoy life again. Cassie was more subdued on the journey back to the apartment. At least she saved what she wanted to say until we had settled down for the evening. "Please don't fight me on this- but I have to talk to Abe." I'm almost sure the words 'are you fucking nuts' got used more than once that evening. Cassie let me rant, and then tried again... and again. It was clear she wasn't going to budge on this. "It wasn't a request for your permission, Bobby. You know us, probably more than you should. When and where, I don't know yet, but I have to talk to Abe." Just how short a memory did this damn woman have? Three of his own sons had almost killed her, and now she wanted to talk to their father. "Why, Cassie? Just tell me why. Help me get my head around the temporary insanity you seem to be diving into." Cassie actually thought for a moment, knowing I wasn't impressed with her wanting to go anywhere near her old haunts again, especially since just going there could get her killed. For my own peace of mind, and to know what I would be putting on her headstone, I just needed her to explain it all to me. "Although the slate is clean, Bobby, it would be too easy for either of us to stumble into something that we shouldn't. I don't want an intermediary involved in this, so I have to talk to Abe myself." Cassie got up and went to her room. I went through the motions of watching some TV, gave up, and went to bed an hour later- although it was well into the early hours when sleep came for me. The morning didn't bring a shift in her decision. The outline of the elephant grew within the room; it just got bigger when we talked about every topic but the one we needed to discuss. By the end of the next week, the doctor was happy to remove the last of the stitches. His last scan of Cassie meant he looked far happier than he did when I first brought her in. Our social life started to develop, by accident. A casual question from her asking me if I liked opera got us tickets, although I insisted on paying for our meal afterwards. When I asked her why the sudden going out, she reminded me that she was still part of the water people- even though they would never consider her one again. She needed to be outdoors. The apartment was fine while her body needed repair, but she was now fit enough and, when clothed, would pass for normal- and not a punching bag. She needed to breathe air that wasn't passed through an AC unit. Cassie had us out on the town at least once a week; opera, the theater, even a football game. I had tried to broach the meeting with Abe to her, but all she would do was smile and hug me. The elephant sat waited patiently in the room. The worst of it was I could talk to no one about this. My first thought was Detective Daniels but, since no crime had been committed, I just wasn't sure he would listen to me. And since my initial outburst, Cassie had kept the meeting with Abe close to her chest. So other than her supposed need to talk to him, I had nothing. It was the last Sunday of September before Cassie mentioned Abe again. After three months of silence on the subject, I awoke on Sunday morning with her in my bedroom, telling me I had to get up. Although she didn't tell me straight out where we were going, she did give very specific directions. By two o'clock that afternoon, we were both walking through Oak Dean Memorial Park. I only knew that much because the sign over the entrance told me. Cassie was out of the car as soon as I switched the ignition off. She stuck her hands in her pockets and waited for me, before we set off walking along the path at the river's edge. The path itself eventually split; one continuing along the river, the other headed towards a children's play area that had about a dozen picnic benches placed all over the area for folks to rest or make a day of it in the park. Cassie came to a stop and asked me to sit. When I did, she eased herself in next to me. "Look, I know to you I'm acting all James Bond but, you're an outsider, and by the rules, you shouldn't even be here. Abe agreed as long as you would sit and stay here. Don't take notes, and keep your cell in your pocket, even if it rings." Before I could answer, someone sat on the other side of me. When I looked towards the woman who now sat smiling at me, Cassie got up and walked away. "Hi, I'm Cindy." Her smile made you want to look closer at her. Cindy was a brunette with the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. She folded her arms in front of her and then looked towards Cassie, who was almost a hundred yards away, sitting on another bench next to a man whose back was to both of us. "Why are you here, Mr. Robert Douglas? Traveler made it a condition, you being here. Even Uncle Abe couldn't figure out why, so he agreed. You've become an enigma to Uncle Abe, Mr. Douglas." Even I had to admit to a smile when I heard that word. I had called Cassie an enigma so long ago when the story of Traveler was given to me by my boat builder friend. As I looked at Cindy, it was clear her attention was still focused on the two people who sat on the bench in front of us. "It's a warm day, Mr. Douglas. Feel free to take your coat off, if you wish. Just place your hands back on the table when you're done. OK?" "Can I ask you a few questions?" Cindy looked at me and smiled again, before looking back at the bench in front of us, and the two people who sat there." "I guess that would be the reporter in you talking, Mr. Douglas. The answer is no. But, I can tell you what you should do. Pray real hard because one of two things will happen soon, Mr. Douglas. Traveler will either live happily-ever-after, or she will be dead within the week." The smile vanished from her lips; her eyes became real hard. "I said put your hands back on the table, Mr. Douglas." Very slowly, I placed my arms back on the bench. Her smile returned. It never got as far as her eyes though. Cindy went back to looking in front of her. "Traveler must think a great deal of you, Mr. Douglas. You're an outsider. You have no business here, and yet she asked that you be included." I was too stunned by her comment to say anything, much less do anything. Cassie and the man still talked. Cindy watched both like a hawk; although I had no doubt that any move I made would be noticed instantly by her. Twenty minutes later, Cassie stood and faced the man she was talking to, bowed her head to him, then took a step back and started to walk toward our picnic bench. Cindy let out a little giggle and started to clap her hands. "Oh, goodie, Traveler gets to live happily-ever-after." Cindy stopped clapping and looked towards me. Her smile was genuine, though her eyes looked like they had filled up. She stood and took a step away from the bench. "Look after my cousin, Mr. Douglas. If you don't, I will find you and kill you myself. You will never know what she has given up to be with you. She's your woman now. Cassie has relinquished the title of Traveler. I enjoyed our chat, Mr. Douglas, but if we ever to see each other again, it would be the last time you breathe air. Treat her right. She's given up everything for you- remember that." ******* By the time I looked at the bench that Cassie had just vacated, the man was gone. When I turned to look for Cindy, I couldn't spot her either. I had sat on this bench for a good thirty minutes and was as clueless now as I was then. "Do you want to talk here or back home?" Cassie's question pulled me from my thoughts. She hadn't sat down because she was waiting for my answer. Taking a breath, I picked up my coat and we walked back to the car in silence. Neither one of us even turned the radio on as we traveled back. The only sounds Cassie made were to tell me when to turn. Even that stopped when the area became familiar to me. I made it into the apartment before I turned to look at her. "Cassie, I..." "No. You had your choice, and that was the venue. You don't get to choose the rest. Get your clothes off; I'm getting us some drinks. When I come out of the kitchen, I will be as naked as you." She didn't even stop to see if I would. Cassie was stubborn when she wanted to be. We were also talking about her life here, and I figured that would allow some latitude even though I thought the naked part was past us now that she was almost completely healed. True to her word, Cassie came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with drinks for us. She must have left her clothes to pick up later. The tray was placed on the coffee table. She sat next to me, hooked her leg onto the couch, and leaned against the back of it so she could also face me. "I'm sorry about Cindy; she's always had a big mouth, even when we were kids. It was Abe's insistence that she looked after you while I talked to him. I couldn't tell you everything because I simply didn't know the outcome of the meeting until I stood up and walked back." I had been a reporter all my adult life and yet in this one instance, I was reduced to one question. "Cassie, what have you done?" She leaned over, took her drink off the tray and sipped it before replacing it. "Between Abe and me, we have sorted out the rules that I can live by. He also wanted payment for losing his three sons. Once I pointed out the stupidity of their actions and that a girl beat all three of them in a bar fight, he agreed they are in the best place- to remind them of that fact." "Cindy said you're no longer Traveler?" Cassie shook her head. She looked down at the couch for a moment, and then gave me a glimpse into a life that was so close-knit. Her words reached to every level of water life, leaving me to sit in awe. I could have filled a book with the knowledge and depth of history that came from Cassie that evening. Traveler wasn't a name granted to the head of the family, Traveler was the head of the whole family. Her grandfather was Traveler, but his lust for life meant he could never keep it in his pants. In this case, his wife Constance Marshal and mistress Angelina Mendez both gave him sons. When he died, Cassie's father became Traveler. "It's best if you think about it like a crown, rather than a title. When daddy became head of the family, it also included Angelina Mendez and her son. The laws of our community gave them no choice. The resentment grew though. Daddy was wise and sought peace with his step-brother. To a point, it was a peace that earned them all a great deal of money, so the resentment took a backseat. With the death of her father, the title of Traveler was automatically given to her. The resentment grew once again between the new Traveler and the Mendez family. Cassie kept to the deal that her late-father had with Abe, and for a while, an uneasy peace reigned. When the three Mendez brothers came across Cassie at the bar, they saw it as an opportunity. She was sure that Abe hadn't instigated the confrontation, but with Cassie dead, Abe would have become Traveler. What George Beckwith had said was true; since Cassie lived, the family structure started to split. People were taking sides, and with the head of the family in hospital and her boat destroyed, the rift in the family became deeper by the day. "But you came here after the hospital... How did you stop the civil war that was coming, if you were hold up here?" "Our traditions may be dated, yet still work- but that doesn't stop us from using technology. Every time you went out, I used your computer. I had a TracFone, and money delivered to me using the same method." Her hand once again reached for her drink; she smiled after taking a sip. "One of my cousins sat outside in the street for ten hours, waiting for you to leave, so he could deliver those items though." My first instinct was to say that he could have knocked- until I remembered that, to them, I'm the nosey reporter, as well as the outsider. We stopped talking while we made something to eat. Once Cassie was comfortable on the couch again, I put some music on and joined her. "So, what happens now?" "Are you ready for me to answer that, Bobby? You only get one shot at that question." The way she was looking at me made me wonder if this whole conversation had been building up to this exact question. After a pause, I nodded my head. Cassie stared right back at me for a moment, and then reached for my hand with both of hers. Before placing it on her thigh, she spoke. "You stuck by me when I was at my lowest. When I didn't even have the strength to stand, you carried me. When I screamed and cried through the pain, you held onto me and cried right alongside me. When I showed you all the damage to this body... You hung in there and kept me going." One of her hands wove her fingers into mine as she paused to take a breath before starting again. Traveler "A man I didn't know existed three years ago did that for me. I know that one day you will get around to asking me to marry you. When you do, I will agree on condition; that it be a low-key marriage." Her fingers folded in mine, locking my hand to hers as her eyes came to look directly at me. "The doctor said that all the swelling has now gone from my sex parts. None of us know if I will ever be able to give you children, but if I can, I will give you two before one of us gets tied off." I tried to speak, but her freehand came to my lips and a single finger touched them. Her eyes had already moistened, so I nodded my head in understanding. I would wait. "Just a moment more; honey, it's almost all out there. OK? This is the part I truly need your help with. I can't live here. I'm trying, and for now it's working, but... I know me. I was born outside. This city life isn't for me, and eventually, I will wither and die. I need your help, oh so much, with this. It's, perhaps, the only thing that can unravel all that I offer you." ******* We didn't get much sleep that night. There was no throwing her on the bed and making up for lost time, but we sure talked a lot. The doc put Cassie on the pill and we were both taking it slow. The first time, both of us hated it. It felt like we both expected something to break, but like all things, when you get to practice more, it gets better. She never did break. Cassie still had secrets. When I came up with the idea of moving out towards Barry, and she could get herself a part-time job with him, she was over-the-moon. The owner of the town paper was looking to retire and suddenly found himself with a very generous offer. When I looked at Cassie, all she did was smile. When I asked if I was now a kept-man, she told me that I could work my debt off in the bedroom. A debt that I believe I'm working my way through with as much diligence as possible. Although, she does smile when she tells me that so far I've only covered the interest. Barry Mitchell offered her a full-time job after six months. After three years at the yard, he offered her a partnership. Barry wasn't stupid; he had seen the upshot in business, along with the ideas in both the business and boat design she came up with. Two years into our marriage, Victoria Alice Douglas came into our lives. Cindy came back into it a week later. Cassie and Cindy went into a huddle. Victoria joined them. An hour later, both women hugged, and she left. I got a wave, but nothing else from her. When I asked what that was about, all Cassie told me was that Cindy was Victoria's godmother. I pitied any boy who took advantage of Victoria; Cindy was Abe's enforcer. Two years later, David Adam Douglas screamed his way into the world to complete our family, and I got myself tied off. I've never met Abe, although Cassie takes the children to see him once a year. It seems both of them got what they wanted. Abe wanted power; some men lust after it, some take it because they can, and some because it's the only way to keep the peace. Cassie and Abe knew the rift that started with his sons could decimate the family. Cassie wasn't in a position to hold the family together. Hell, she couldn't even sit in the bathroom without passing out at the time. Abe took hold, and stopped the rift that his own sons initiated. When Cassie gave him Traveler status, it not only cemented his position but kept the whole family from going under. She didn't care. She had already set her sights on me; I was doomed from the beginning it seems. Yet when I woke every morning and looked at the woman who shared my bed and the sounds of both our children filled the house. I did often wonder if I was just stagnant before Cassie, was my life nothing more than going to work at the paper and waking up the next day to repeat what I did the day before. Cassie gave my life meaning. The children sealed the deal and every day now I smile knowing that I had looked on Traveler as just a story, only to find real love from a very passionate woman. Who found a new life for herself as a wife, mother and business woman. Traveler left our lives in that bar fight, Cassie Marshal was truly reborn that evening as well and between us, both our lives changed for the better. When Cassie asked Barry Mitchell to be our son's godparent he gladly accepted, we knew he would do a great job since we had both watched him with his own family. But Cassie wanted to thank him in her own way, had it not been for him we would never have met. Our worlds would never have came into contact with each other had it not been for my boat builder friend. Traveler did exist, I held her and our children in my arms every day. The End.