To Leap From Heaven [A Romantic Thriller]

32.

When she entered the grimy semi-lit cubbyhole which served as an office, she found the attendant, who was a woman in her late fifties half asleep behind the desk. When she heard the door opening she perked up her head with a jerk.

“How may I help you, Miss?” she asked.

She did not exactly radiate warmth and would have been happy if this late night customer would be on her way.

“I need a room for tonight.”

“One night only?”

“Yes, for now. I don't know how long my business will keep me here.”

Catherine was still wearing her scarf and sunglasses.

“Sure, may I see some ID, please?”

She had anticipated the question, and had prepared a thick wad of cash beforehand. She did not want to scratch in her bag when paying, because people were nosey, especially in that district.

She slapped it onto the countertop and said, “That should take care of my ID and my room for the night. My pimp has my ID, and I don't feel like working tonight.”

The woman sat up straight. All signs of sleepiness had left her, and she quickly grabbed the cash and stashed it under the counter. She handed Catherine a key, and told her the number of her room.
Catherine took it, and on her way out the woman asked, “What name should I put down?”

“Anything you like, or Madonna.”

When she entered her room, Catherine immediately opened the windows to get rid of the stale smell which was a permanent fixture of cheap motels. She inspected the small room and tiny bathroom, and although furnished from pawnshops, it was as clean as they could get it. A thrill of disgust ran through her when she looked at the bed. She could only imagine what sort of people slept there, and what they did. One of her absolute pet hates was dirty linen. She couldn't get herself to sleep between linen strangers had used.

She resolved to rest on top of the bed, and only if she became too tired to sit up straight on the only rickety chair at the grease stained round table in the corner. She hadn't had a meal for some time, and started munching on the energy bars, sodas and water she had bought at the drugstore. She thought of her mother and how horrified she would be if she saw what Catherine was eating. There would be endless lectures about rotting teeth, piling on the pounds, and bad skin, but it couldn't be helped. She missed her parents and hoped to be reunited with them in the near future.

She took out the notebook and pencil and started to draw Carl's face from memory. Every stroke of the pencil was hateful to her, because every line she drew brought him to life, and she wished she did not have to do it. But it was important. Her intention was to go around to the other motels and show them his picture. People have difficulty in identifying a person from a description, but a picture and cash would jog memories faster, and she hoped to find him before the end of the day.

Her first attempt did not capture Carl's features well enough, and she redrew it several times before she was happy with the results. She held the picture at arms length and studied it. It was not her best work, but her art teacher would have been proud of her. Time was running out, and she had to act fast before someone recognized her. She had seen snatches of TV broadcasts, and realized that the reason why the country was in such an uproar was because of her. She was a wanted woman, and that spurred her to greater haste. She closed the notebook and reviewed her plan of action. She inspected the firearm, and there seemed to be enough ammo to finish the job.

Apart from the food and notebook, and without thinking, she had grabbed another item off the shelves. She had occupied her time with all sorts of unimportant things, but having done so she could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. Slowly she removed the pregnancy test from the brown paper bag, and placing it on the table viewed it with mixed emotions. One morning when the cook brought her her breakfast, the smell of it had nauseated her, and she had run to the toilet to puke, but she didn't.

“Oh, oh, someone might be pregnant,” the nurse had said.

“I don't think so,” Catherine had protested.

“I would advise you to take a pregnancy test as soon as possible, or go see a doctor. You never know, and should you be, you'll have to take good care of yourself.”

That conversation with the nurse was what, subconsciously, prompted her to buy the test. She thought about being a single mother, and the thought appealed to her. It would be a part of Matt, and she would love him like she did his father. Suddenly she thought about the position she was in, and that she was a fugitive from justice, and should she be captured, would they still execute her knowing she was pregnant?

The law made no allowance for such an eventuality, but surely they would not kill an unborn child? The law should be repealed, and she would fight them on those grounds. She felt her tummy, and hoped to Heaven she was pregnant, but should she be, would she still pursue Carl, and place the baby in danger? He might get the better of her, and kill them both. These and other thoughts swirled through her head, and she felt caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. She read the instructions carefully and went into the bathroom after which she sat at the table and waited for the results.

She remembered the first time she and Matt had discussed having children. They were on the beach in the middle of the night.

“Let's go skinny dipping,” Matt said.

“No, the water is too cold.”

“Chicken.”

“I'll show you who's chicken.” Catherine had stripped off her clothes and was in the water before Matt was halfway undressed.

The water was calm, and the ocean black with a silver streak on the undulating water, compliments of the moon. She was freezing, but enjoyed it, and Matt hugged and kissed her throughout hoping to warm her. The night was magical, and they made love on the beach, but that was the only time Catherine did not enjoy it, because there was too much sand, and it got in everywhere.

Fully dressed and back in the car Matt said, “I would like us to have a boy first. What do you think?”

“I thought daddys always wanted little girls first? What happened?”

“I want a boy, and I will teach him karate, and instruct him to fight any boy who comes near his sister.”

“Are you sure a chastity belt wouldn't be cheaper?”

“I was thinking about that too. Do they still make it? And if so, where can I buy it? I would like to order a dozen.”

They couldn't stop laughing. The image of their daughter walking around in a chastity belt was way beyond funny.

“But seriously, I don't care who comes first, I will love them equally,” Matt said.

“Me too, but we are getting ahead of ourselves. First we should get engaged, then married, then set up home, and then have children.”

“By that time I'll be ninety-five,” Matt shouted. He punched the air with a closed fist in mock anger.

“And hopefully, grandparents,” Catherine answered.

The time was up and, after having looked at the stick she dropped it into the trash can. The results showed negative. Catherine was both happy and sad. Sad, because she was looking forward to having Matt's baby. Happy, because it left her free to pursue her mission without fear or favor.
Her eyelids felt heavy, and not being able to keep them open much longer, she removed her shoes, and fully dressed, and with the firearm under her pillow, and bag of cash under the bed, she lay with her fingers locked across her chest, and fell asleep.

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