Contract With the Devil

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty five

I sense her as I stand in the door entrance to the ballroom at Hotel 71. In a room of over a hundred women it takes me only seconds to find her. She is standing with Helen Trigg surrounded by a group of women all talking and smiling. Her suit is matching the general wardrobe of the room and is black – her favorite color. My eyes travel down her body and my mind likes all that I see. The cut of her suit gives her a professional look softening the curves without revealing her beautiful hips. She has been out of the office today and I have not had my daily ration of running my hands down or across her hips. Traveling to her legs I see the Jimmy Coho black patent strappy shoes. Tonight I want to kneel at her feet and remove those shoes. I am not sure of my next move but I must be the one to remove her shoes. She seems to become very still. Our connection is working. I watch this change in her, while suddenly desiring to see her face. She slowly turns in place until she is facing me. A warm and happy smile spreads across her face. We start to walk toward each other and do not stop until she is in my arms where she kisses the side of my face. In a room full of women, attending a luncheon to benefit a domestic violence shelter, she needs me to hold her. I am happy to oblige.

          “Hi daddy,” she says as she looks up at me. “You made it in time. Lunch will be served soon.” She takes my hand and leads me toward a table at the front of the room. I pull out a chair for her then one for Helen as I see her approaching. Once seated, I whisper in her ear, “Why did I wake up without you this morning?” She smiles then leans close to reply, “Maybe because I had to leave early to run by the salon after you dampened my hair last night. I kissed her ear. “Sorry.”  I reach on the table for the program book. Under a list of donors I find Lawrence Enterprises –STL listed for a donation of ten thousand dollars. A few pages over I am stunned to find a half page memorial ad for Alisa Miller from her daughter Angela and family. Alisa Miller was my daughter’s mother. She was beaten to death by her husband. How did she learn Alisa’s name? My wife supports several programs but this program seems to be receiving expanded support and attention. She looks at the page I am reading and I ask, “Have you found your true cause?” She gives a small, sad smile. “I have found my cause to support for my daughter,” Works for me. If this makes her happy I will support this cause also. Lunch is served and I chat with Helen about a trip to the market she would like to make to purchase merchandise for the store she manages and owns twenty-five percent of. After the birth of our daughter I transferred fifty percentage of my ownership to my wife.

          The keynote speaker is introduced. This lady tells her story of surviving a point blank shot from a thirty-eight. Her husband was her assailant. She tells of still being afraid eight years later then praises the shelter for giving her shelter and transitional housing during her recovery. It is a compelling story and I think of Alisa and wonder if she ever tried to get help. It is a story we will have to one day tell my daughter. Now she knows a blood clot traveled to her mother’s lung causing her death. We have decided to wait until she is older to tell her the originating injury was the beating from her husband. He is now serving a life sentence for her death.

          The luncheon ends and we walk out together. She is going to her office which sells insurance and provides paralegal services. I am heading to one of our property sites to discuss a possible expansion with the local alderman. This is Chicago and all building projects begin with the approval of the local governing force. At her car, I kiss her forehead wishing we could spend the day together but tomorrow we plan to be in our offices, next door to each other, all day.