Those Weekends In New England

Chapter Eight

No matter how hard the effort, sometimes the song is just wrong.

Over, and over, and over again. Rrring, rrring, rrring. Denny squeezed his eyes shut, then ran a slow hand over them. Was he dreaming, or did he hear the phone? He'd have to fully wake up to find out. Without looking, he leaned over in the direction of his nightstand and groped for the source of the noise. Finally his fingers found the phone.

"Hello?" His voice was groggy.

No one was on the other end.

"Oh, shit. After they wake me, they hang up."

He stretched and yawned. Then reality stepped in; the ringing of the phone had gone on for so long because Al wasn't here. The suite was silent. He was usually puttering around in Denny's rooms first thing every morning.

Denny sat. I wonder where he is? Maybe that was him calling from somewhere, or maybe, just maybe.... Don't be foolish, he told himself. It was Al. He went out for bagels or something, and decided to take a walk. Denny reached for the phone and dialed down to the desk.

"Hello, Maria, this is Denny Lorenzo." He waited for the usual gush of greetings. "Good morning to you, too. Listen, someone just called me. Do you know if it was from within the hotel or outside?"

"It was a lady, Mr. Lorenzo, from outside the hotel."

Elaine. Had to be Elaine. "Did she leave a message? I was asleep and didn't get to it in time."

"No, sorry, no message. It was local, though. You know I wouldn't put through someone you didn't know but...." Suddenly she sounded embarrassed. "Well, y'know, your visit to the local club last night was in the news this morning, and a local young lady was mentioned with you. I figured it was her."

Denny stopped all movement as he was getting out of bed. "You sure?"

"Yes sir, I'm sure. She didn't give me a name, but said she was a friend and I just had an idea it was her. I'm sorry I didn't follow the rules. I apologize. Just that her voice was so sad. Somehow I figured it had to be her."

"Thanks, Maria. Don't worry about it. I appreciate your help." He hung up.

Denny sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only his underwear. He stared at the phone for a long time, with his laptop next to it. Leaning over with his elbows on his knees, he tapped a finger against his nose as thoughts raced through his mind. Should I? What if it wasn't her? But it had to be her. His heart told him it had been Hannah. He knew Hannah had tried to call. And if he returned her call, he was certain he would initiate a relationship he didn't yet knew how to handle.

Not giving himself another moment to think, he looked up her number on the Internet. A list of local names flew by under his searching gaze until he reached "Jergen."

"Jergen, Jergen," he mumbled. "Jerg-en.... Here it is, Peter Jergen." Vocalizing Hannah's husband's name gave Denny an instantly unexpected roiling, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pushed that away and took a deep breath. "He's not home yet, she wouldn't have called me if he were," he reassured himself as he dialed her number.

One ring, and Denny's heart jumped into the upper part of his chest bone. Two rings, and he pounced back onto the bed. Three rings. He was about to give up when....

"Hello?" Her voice was breathy, as if she'd been running.

Denny couldn't respond. This was the beginning; this was the real beginning. He had started the wheels rolling down the hill. What would happen before they reached the bottom? Would they get there together?

"Hello?" she repeated again.

Softly, gently, "Hi, love."

"Yes, I called. I was shocked the Front Desk put me through."