Heart Of Harlem
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Luke was living in Harlem with Dori, her boyfriend, and their little boy, Jonathon. He’d had a close call with the law the year before when he’d stopped by the building where they were leasing an apartment and saw two cops in uniform coming out of the door, carrying a disheveled-looking young woman between them.
One of the officers started towards him as if to detain him, so Luke rushed forward and shouted:
“Her! It’s not me, man!”
They looked around at him as if surprised that anybody could be stupid enough to think otherwise.
“Thanks, buddy,” one of the policemen said to Luke, but his companion frowned and pulled out a notebook and a pencil as he approached, scrutinizing him suspiciously. Luke glanced away quickly and decided to duck into the nearest shop.
On his way through it, however, he noticed a display of medical supplies on the other side of the glass; he leaned over, breathing heavily and pretending to fix a display of napkins or hankies or something, just long enough to read the items marked “Vomit Kit.” Then he dashed back to safety.
As he rounded the corner, just out of sight from the doorway, he glanced down the street to make sure no one had followed him in yet; there were three patrol cars sitting across from Number 508 like bowling pins with eyes, yellow tape snaking away behind them from where some scene-of-crime detectives had been assigned by the well-equipped New York Police Department to canvass for witnesses and evidence, sifting through the snow looking for cigarette butts and fingerprints, while another squad car cruised slowly up and down, its officer staring at any windowsill that might reveal who lived inside.
A lone black guy stood with his back against a parked car smoking a joint with a partially open beer can in front of him; he glanced casually at Luke and grinned toothily. As soon as the cop car was past him, he tossed his half-smoked spliff to the pavement and strolled after the retreating police wagon, oblivious to all else but his next smoke.
Luke had heard about shit like this happening all the time in the projects; plenty of his peers had gotten swept up in this entire ritual, just to spend several days sleeping under a heap of concrete in some hellhole public jail called the Tombs.
By now he knew what to expect—that cop would never do anything without sufficient cause. And indeed, that cop was scanning a neatly penned report that told him the details of why Luke had come within view of them in the first place:
Dori, yes she was from Senegal and yes they still owed money to Uncle Hassan for his son’s enlistment, yes both the names they gave out there were false (Doris Francis?) but both of them knew the really expensive real names underneath.
No reason for the cops to stop this fellow either, not until after he filled out those forms, maybe even twice, paid $40 dollars, and took them to headquarters himself for fingerprinting. Just then, though, a passerby arrived at 508 to examine the scene more closely.
Luke darted around the corner again, waiting to see if this newcomer was a cop or not. If he wasn’t wearing a uniform, he wouldn’t be able to get much information from him anyway.
When the stranger turned down the block, Luke headed for Number 507. The door was unlocked and he pushed inside. No lights on except for the glow of the streetlights outside; he walked quickly to Dori’s bedroom on the second floor and knocked loudly on her closed door. “Hey, honey, you in there?”
Nothing. He waited a few minutes, then pounded on the door again; still nothing. So he went downstairs and opened the basement door where they kept their extra clothes and other junk, stepped in, and closed the door behind him.
He couldn’t find a light switch anywhere down there, so he just moved around in the dark. He found the door at the end of the corridor leading back to the kitchen and pushed it open.
The kitchen was empty and quiet; the only thing he could hear was the ticking of a clock on the countertop. There was no sound at all in the dining room or the living room. He hurried up the stairs, feeling his way along the wall for support. As he reached the hallway on the second floor, he heard a faint whimpering coming from somewhere below.
He paused halfway up the staircase, wondering if he should try to rescue Dori from whatever had captured her, but the noise stopped almost immediately.
It was a child crying; he listened closely and could just barely hear it again, but it was coming from inside Dori’s room. He knocked on the door again, waited for a minute, then tried the knob.
Locked.
So he started climbing the stairs. It was hard to walk up in the pitch-black stairwell with nothing but his hand-and footholds. At last, he felt the edge of her bed beneath his feet and managed to pull himself up with a sudden rush, landing heavily on his shoulder and knee.
Then he heard someone scream. “Dori!” he yelled in panic, but it was too late. She’d already been taken by whoever held her captive. His heart pounding in terror, he threw himself onto the bed and scrambled toward the window, searching for something to help him climb out of the second-floor window.
In his hurry, he tripped over her suitcase and fell to his hands and knees on the carpeted floor.
His left arm throbbed where it had hit the floor. He could feel wetness seeping into his shirt. A moment later, he found the handle of her suitcase; it looked like a big red shoebox with wheels on the bottom. He picked it up and rolled it toward the window.
As he reached the sill, he noticed the light switch near the top of the stairwell. He switched it on and instantly wished he hadn’t. He saw a woman’s face peering down from the second floor at him with a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” Dori had asked him once when she came home early from work. The sight of her standing there now sent chills up his spine. She looked as angry and hostile as ever.
And yet she also seemed familiar, almost like an old friend. Had that been a long time ago? Was it possible they’d actually met before? But how? And was the memory just a product of his imagination—or could it have happened?
She was asking questions and calling him names, but he didn’t recognize any of the words she used. Then suddenly, he realized she was shouting, “Where did you get that suitcase?”
He stared at her blankly for a few seconds, then turned back to the window and began struggling to lift himself up and out.
***
Luke finally climbed free of the second-story window and dropped to the lawn below, landing hard. He stood and brushed off his pants while Dori watched him from the upstairs window. Then, with his heart thudding in his chest, he started down the stairs, one step at a time. Dori followed him with her eyes.
At first, she thought he might be trying to escape her. Her expression softened; she was relieved to see him come outside. Still, she was cautious, not trusting him.
“How did you know I was locked in?” she demanded when he reached the foot of the stairs.
He pointed to the bedroom door. “You were screaming.”
She looked away for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I was.”
He stopped walking. When she didn’t move, he said, “Did you cry because of what happened tonight?”
He expected her to yell at him again, but instead, she just shrugged. It was strange to think that he was responsible for the tears she’d shed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head, then took a step closer to him and touched her bruised cheek with her fingertips. “Not anymore,” she answered.
He remembered the cut on her lip. He put his fingers against her chin and tilted it downward. With careful movements, he dabbed a cloth on her cut lip with cold water from the sink in the kitchen. It was bleeding freely, but he managed to stop the flow without cutting her tongue or lip. Then he cleaned the blood off her hand and wrist with a damp washcloth.
By the time he was done cleaning her mouth, Dori was staring at the ground. She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t push him away either. “Why do you want to know so much about me?” she whispered.
For the answer, he reached out and took her hand in his. For a long time, neither one spoke. Finally, he let go and looked around, feeling lost and lonely. Where should he go now? Back inside, where he knew exactly where everything was? Or would it be better to leave, to find someplace where he couldn’t run into her?
He turned toward his office door, but then changed direction and walked across the lawn to the house next door, hoping to find an unlocked door. He knocked loudly until the door opened. The man who answered looked vaguely familiar. “Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.
Luke looked at him for several seconds, then shook his head and returned to the front yard. He walked past two other houses before coming upon another, where the door was open. Inside, he found three men playing cards. They all stopped talking and stared at him.
“Hey, mister—” The speaker held his hand up in warning.
“Please, don’t call me ‘mister,'” Luke said quietly. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to talk to them this way.
The man’s eyes narrowed; he didn’t seem pleased by Luke’s abrupt change in tone. “Don’t make me ask you again,” he warned. “Who are you?”
“I’m looking for a room to rent. You got any vacancies?”
All three men exchanged glances and then burst into laughter.
They were making fun of him. Why? It wasn’t as if he didn’t belong here. He’d lived in town for more than two weeks now. But still—he couldn’t understand why they would mock him.
Finally one of the card players spoke. “You can stay here for free, mister.”
“For free?” Luke repeated incredulously.
“We’ll feed you,” another added. “And we won’t kick your ass every day like you did to us.”
It made sense. If these men had been friends with Tom, they wouldn’t have let him die. They might even help him find information about Sam Loomis. “Thank you,” he said.
One of the card players handed him a piece of paper. It read:
MORRISON HOTEL, BED AND BREAKFAST
Room for rent; sleeps six.
Two bedrooms shared bath.
No smoking inside. No pets allowed.
“That’s for the hotel,” the card player explained, pointing to the hotel address. “This is for you.”
Luke smiled; he guessed this was meant to show their friendship. “I’m happy to pay for my own lodgings.”
“If you insist,” the card player said, “but you’re welcome to stay with us for no charge.”
“I’ll sleep in your barn if I must.”
The man shook his head and laughed again. “Your horse won’t fit in there. You’d probably have to tie him to the rafters.”
“Then I’ll just have to walk.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the man said. “We’ve got plenty of work around here for hard workers like you.”
“Work?” Luke echoed, looking at the card player. “You mean manual labor?”
“Sure,” the man answered with a grin. “Digging ditches, chopping wood—”
“What kind of work do you do?” Luke asked.
The man shrugged. “Anything we need to be done.”
***
Luke was too tired to argue with the man. Instead, he thanked him and left, walking past the hotel entrance to the street where he hoped to find an empty wagon for hire. He wanted to get back to the ranch as quickly as possible. But how could he when he couldn’t remember the way?
“How much are you asking?” he called out as he approached the first wagon. The teamsters were sitting in front of the driver’s seat, but they jumped to their feet and came over to him.
One of them pulled out a billfold and showed him two silver dollars. “Take whichever one looks clean.”
Luke hesitated for only a second before selecting one and handing it to the man. He didn’t care what state it was in, as long as he had something to start his search with. “Where would you like me to take you?”
A smile formed on the man’s face. “Back to the ranch,” he replied. “My son has a job for you.”
“I’m not working for you.”
“Yes you are,” the man insisted. “Just think of it as a test. We’ll decide then whether or not to hire you.”
Luke sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
The other teamster handed Luke a piece of paper. “Here’s the address.”
As soon as Luke took the note, the man grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the horses. “Get in.”
After climbing into the back of the wagon, Luke looked over at the teamsters and realized he hadn’t been given the choice. The one who’d handed him the note had obviously spoken for both of them.
But they seemed friendly enough, and Luke decided to humor them. “So what kind of work have you got for me?”
“Whatever needs doing,” the teamster said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “We’ll give you the specifics after you’ve delivered the message.”
“Message?”
“We’ll explain later.” With that, the teamsters waved at him and drove off in different directions.
Luke waited until all the wagons had disappeared before he started walking down the street, searching for Sam Loomis’s house. He wondered how many people lived here—how many families owned homes in Morrison? How many of those people had seen Tom?
He found the answer soon enough. A few houses away from Sam’s place stood a brick house with two bay windows flanking a doorway that boasted a large porch. There were no trees on this street, so the house stood out like a beacon.
Luke walked up to it and rang the doorbell. “Sam? It’s Luke.”
His voice echoed through the front hall. “Coming!”
A young woman dressed in blue appeared in the hallway wearing a frilly white dress. She smiled when she saw Luke. “Come in,” she said, gesturing for him to enter.
As Luke stepped inside the home, Sam came out of his bedroom, smiling. “Hello,” he said as he reached for his daughter’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”
With that, they embraced each other in a warm family hug. For several minutes, they talked about Luke’s trip, his visit to town, and his meeting with Tom. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, the conversation turned back to daily life at the ranch.
“How’s the work coming along?” Sam asked, looking out his window toward the distant fields. “Are we going to be ready for planting season?”
“There are still a lot of things that need to be done,” Luke told him with a frown, thinking of all the work needed to get the ranch ready for spring.
“Well, it can wait for now,” Sam replied. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?” Luke asked, looking around the room. “You know, since you’re my employer I should probably ask your permission—”
“Not unless you want to pay for whatever it is you want to say.”
“I don’t understand why you have to be such a control freak,” Luke said with a sigh.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Just forget it.”
“No. Don’t do that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I like to hear from my employees just what’s bothering them.”
“And I thought you hired me because you wanted someone to help you run the ranch better.”
“That’s true. But we also have something very important in common.”
“Which is?”
“We both like money.” Sam smiled. “Now tell me what’s on your mind, and I might let you buy lunch.”
Luke grinned. “If I buy lunch, you won’t ask me anything?”
“Nope. I’ll just eat.”
“Then what exactly will I be buying?”
Sam laughed as he sat down on the couch and motioned for Luke to sit across from him. “Something to drink, coffee, tea, maybe a sandwich.”
“Fine, but if I’m not buying lunch, you’re not telling me what’s bothering you.”
“Fair enough.” Sam paused for a moment before speaking again.
Luke couldn’t believe Sam had taken his advice on hiring a detective. But then again, Sam was always ahead of everyone else in every business venture.
“Do you remember that letter I wrote to the editor?”
“Of course. And did you get a response?”
“Not yet.”
“You never heard back from the newspaper?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean the paper didn’t print it. You never know.”
“Maybe.”
“Anyway, you may be interested in the fact that I’ve written another letter.”
Luke leaned forward on his knees, wondering why Sam would bother. “Did you send it to the same paper?”
“To the editor-in-chief instead.”
“Oh.” Luke nodded as if he understood. “So what’s the story behind this letter?”
“This time I asked for proof.”
Luke shrugged. “Why should you care?”
“Just because.”
“But what if he doesn’t give you any proof?”
“I doubt that,” Sam replied. “I think the next one will be the last.”
“Because if he sends you more letters or stories about Tom, you’re going to turn him in?”
Sam shook his head. “No. The real reason is that I want him punished.”
“Punished by what?”
“By being locked up, of course.”
“But what if the law isn’t interested in pursuing the case?”
Sam laughed. “It’s the sheriff’s responsibility to arrest people, right?”
“Yes, but…”
“I’m sure there must have been some reason he failed to do his job, even though he knows who Tom is.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Luke said dryly. “Tom has never been arrested.”
“That’s because the authorities know Tom would never hurt anyone. He’s a good man.”
“Is he now? Well, then I guess you’re not too worried about him.”
“I’m concerned about you.”
Luke narrowed his eyes at Sam as he stood up. “Forgive me for asking, but why am I so important to you?”
“Why are you?”
“Huh…you know, I’m really starting to think you’re losing your mind.”
***
The next morning Luke got up early, as usual. After washing himself in the creek outside his cabin, he put on a pair of clean clothes and headed into town to meet Sam for breakfast.
“How long have you known Tom?” Sam asked once they were seated.
“Since we were kids. We used to ride horses together.”
“He’s never done anything bad to you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
“Because I’m not upset!”
Luke stared straight ahead at the diner door as Sam looked at him curiously. “Okay, but when you first started writing to the newspaper, weren’t you upset?”
“No! Why would I be upset?” Luke turned around and glared at Sam as if he’d gone crazy. “That was months ago, and I haven’t written another letter since.”
“I see.”
They finished their meal in silence, and as soon as they were outside the diner, Sam spoke again.
“When you wrote to the editor-in-chief, was it about Tom?”
Luke sighed. “Yes.”
“And did he respond?”
“No, not yet.”
“Have you sent him another letter?”
“Yes, two weeks ago.”
“So why are you so worried?”
Luke stopped walking and folded his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I’m worried?”
“I thought you’d be upset about Tom.”
“Why would I be upset?”
“Well, you’re angry.”
“Me?” Luke frowned as he studied the ground in front of him. “I wouldn’t say I’m angry with Tom.”
“Sure you would.” Sam chuckled as he shook his head. “I think maybe you just need someone to talk to.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Luke muttered under his breath as he resumed walking. “If you’re so concerned about my well-being, why don’t you come along on the trip to Chicago?”
“Why should I?”
“I’ll let you decide whether or not I’m fit company.”
“All right.”
As they continued down the street toward the bank, Luke wondered how many times Sam had suggested he go away. He wasn’t quite sure what bothered him the most: Sam’s suggestion or Sam’s concern.
In truth, Luke had no idea why he was still living in the mountains. The only thing that mattered to him anymore was his work. Maybe if I could figure out why I feel like I’ve lost something, I’d understand. Or better yet, I might find the missing piece I need to complete my puzzle. But I’m not even sure what the puzzle is meant to show.
Luke glanced at Sam, who appeared deep in thought as he held onto his hat, and he couldn’t help but smile. If I ever get the chance to write another book, I’ll send the first manuscript to Sam, as promised. That way he’ll have proof that I really am alive. For some odd reason, Luke suddenly wanted to know if he’d gotten any of his books published after all these years.
“Are you listening to me?” Sam asked.
Luke blinked his eyes several times before he realized Sam was speaking to him. “Sorry, what?”
“You haven’t listened to a word I said.”
“No, I—”
“I asked if you liked the bank’s new building,” Sam said impatiently.
“Yeah, I saw it yesterday while I was in town for lunch with the sheriff.”
“I was talking about the bank itself—the new president—not the building.”
“Oh. Of course. You’re the president now, aren’t you?”
“No! I’m the assistant cashier.”
Luke laughed. “That sounds funny to me. It doesn’t mean the same thing as the last time I visited.”
“It means nothing at all.”
“Really? So you’re the only one who works at the bank now?”
Sam nodded.
“What happened to the other cashier?”
“He retired. What else would you call it?”
“Retired…” Luke trailed off as he tried to remember exactly what John had told him. “Didn’t he tell you why he left?”
“Of course he did. He said there was a better job waiting for him back in New York.”
“But you didn’t hire anyone to replace him?”
“I thought about it, but—”
Luke stopped walking abruptly, and Sam turned around. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”
Luke rubbed his chin as he tried to recall the conversation he’d had with John just days earlier. “Something like that.”
“Tell me, and it won’t be wrong anymore.”
“The last time I met him, he seemed so happy. He’d found his wife.”
“And you weren’t jealous?”
“Jealous?” Luke stared at Sam and then shrugged his shoulders. “No, I wasn’t. And I’m not now, either.”
Sam looked surprised. “Why not?”
“Because I finally got my own wife.”
Sam smiled. “You’re married?”
“Yes, I am. I got married three months ago.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Does she live here?”
“She does. She grew up in this area.”
“I see. Where is your wife?”
“At home.”
“Is it true that you two met through an online dating service?”
“How did you hear about that?” Luke asked, wondering how long it would take Sam to put the pieces together.
“I talked to her once when she called. She said you were very proud of that.”
Luke grinned. “Very.”
“So you did meet through a website?”
“No, we met in person at a café.”
“I see.”
“And now I think she’s the love of my life.”
Sam gave Luke a strange look. “I never heard you mention a woman like that before. Is she the first woman you’ve ever loved?”
“No,” Luke answered. “It just took me thirty years to realize that.”
They entered the bank lobby, where a few customers were already inside. A young man in a brown suit waited at the counter. “Welcome,” Luke said as he walked toward the front door. “Can I help you?”
“We’d like to open accounts,” Sam replied, and Luke nodded. He pulled a chair from the small waiting room across from the cashier’s desk and motioned for Sam to sit down. Then he approached the young man and shook his hand. “How may I assist you?”
“This is Mr. Cooper,” Sam said to the customer. “He’s going to open two accounts for us.”
Luke turned to Sam. “Two accounts? Who are they for?”
Sam ignored him as he handed over the deposit slips and identification cards. “These are both mine.”
“That’s right. Both our names appear on them, so please fill out your information as well.”
“Okay… How much do you want in each account?”
“For both accounts, let’s start with fifty dollars,” Luke said.
“All right.”
Luke returned to the cashier’s desk and signed in all three sets of documents. When he came back to the waiting room, he saw Sam looking at him strangely. “What?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Sam replied. “Do you feel okay? You look a little pale.”
Luke glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“I have no idea.” Sam sat down and picked up the forms he needed to complete the process. “I’ll just wait until you’re finished.”
“Thanks.”
Luke filled out the rest of the paperwork while Sam continued to watch him. At one point, Sam whispered, “Are you trying to scare me now?”
Luke laughed. “No, I wouldn’t dare!”
When the cashier called Sam and Luke over to the front of the bank, Luke paid off their credit balances and withdrew enough money for Sam to start opening some savings accounts. The whole process took less than fifteen minutes, and they headed outside. As soon as Sam stepped into the daylight, he squinted against the sun’s glare. “I need sunglasses,” he muttered.
“You can buy those later,” Luke said. “Let’s go see if the doctor has any appointments left today.”
The clinic’s office was located behind the main building in a small brick structure. There was a sign in the window indicating the practice was closed. “Sorry,” Luke told the doctor. “We should’ve checked to see which hours he works.”
The doctor chuckled. “Well, come back another day.”
“Maybe we could get an appointment with his nurse,” Luke said.
“I’m not sure,” the doctor said. “But you might try calling and asking her.”
Luke thanked him and then drove to the next town, where Sam bought two pairs of sunglasses. They stopped by the general store afterward and stocked up on groceries and other things, including a few bottles of wine. They didn’t have any luggage, but Luke had packed his trunk with several changes of clothes in case he decided to stay in a hotel.
After leaving the grocery store, they passed the sheriff’s station. “Stop here,” Sam ordered as he pointed to a blacksmith shop. “I want to look at this horseshoe.”
Luke parked his wagon at the edge of the road and walked over to the shop. A large blacksmith’s forge was set against the side of the building and there was a horse shoe nailed to the wall next to it. On the floor, a number of old horseshoes hung suspended between two nails.
The End