HEART AND HOME

(c) March 2004 by Charlotte Frost

PART THREE

With the April freezing drizzle falling on his windshield, Blair pulled his Volvo to a stop at the area of the cemetery where Harold Shoreman had been re-interred a few days ago. Blair felt a need to visit the grave, in order to bring his own closure to the case that had frustrated so many for so long. A drizzly Saturday seemed a good day to do so.

There was a woman with an umbrella standing near the gravestones. She knelt down and placed a yellow rose on a grave. As Blair approached, holding his own umbrella, he was surprised to see that the grave was Shoreman's. He decided to stand back and wait until she was finished paying her respects.

As he pondered who she might be, she stepped back, bowing her head. Then she turned away from the grave, toward Blair. Her expression indicated surprise to see another person standing there.

Blair nodded politely at her and then realized that he knew her - just as she seemed to recognize him.

"Ms. Livingston," he greeted, unable to hold back his surprise that she would be placing a flower at the grave of her daughter's killer.

"And you're," she seemed desperate to remember, "that consultant with the police who broke the case."

Blair held out his hand. "Blair Sandburg."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Sandburg."  She shook his hand. And then her expression turned into a slight smile. "My family can never thank you enough for having figured out the clue about the clocks."

"Thanks, but it was just one of those lucky realizations."  He was more interested in why she was here.

She looked him in the eye. "I don't believe in luck or coincidence, Mr. Sandburg."

He nodded again. When it got down to it, he didn't really believe in them, either. Synchronistic events had a higher power behind them.

He hesitated, then took strength from the feeling that they had just shared a mutual understanding. "I-I know I have no right to ask, but...." He gestured lamely to the grave with a single flower resting on top of it. 

Good timing, Jim thought, when he heard Blair's car drive up and the garage door opening. The teakettle was getting close to boiling. Blair had had a few errands but said he would be home in time for lunch. Jim was anxious for them to spend the weekend together, since Blair was going to have a long week out of town. He was leaving Monday evening to give a two-day seminar in Salem, followed by another two-day seminar in Sioux Falls. He was going to be one tired guppy when he got home next weekend.

The door from the garage to Blair's office opened and Jim listened as the slow footsteps made their way into the foyer, which was visible from the kitchen.

Blair looked deep in thought, almost to the point of being shell-shocked.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked, coming toward him.

Blair looked up at him. In a voice of near-wonder he said, "I've been out to Harold Shoreman's grave."  His expression intensified. "Ms. Livingston was there. She placed a rose on his grave."

Jim's mind rifled down a list of possible reasons for that. Was Harold a lover? They were having an affair? That's how he knew about the daughter?  "She knew him?" he asked. How did Taggart and I miss that?

"No, no," Blair quickly held up his hands. Then, subdued again, his gaze on the wall, "She only met him that time when he delivered the clock."  His eyes darted to Jim again. "She placed that rose on his grave because she forgave him."  Blair's eyes misted. "That man brutally murdered her daughter and she forgave him."  

Blair's voice softened. "I feel so... small."  He swallowed. "If somebody murdered you - even if it was some teenager stoned out on something - I wouldn't put a rose on his grave. I couldn't forgive him for taking you from me."

Ditto. Jim searched for something appropriate to say. "I guess, in times like this, some people have their religion to fall back on and - "

"No," Blair insisted. "It has nothing to do with religion. Lots of people believe in a religion of forgiveness, but they go through their lives bitter and angry and never forgiving anybody for anything."

Jim waited to be enlightened, his hands at his sides as Blair slowly paced the foyer.

In a voice of awe, Blair said, "Ms. Livingston forgave him because of her own inner strength. She decided that she wanted to forgive... so she did."

Jim was never sure if he was able to understand New Age philosophy - if that's even what this was - but he reached to take Blair's arm in a show of support.

Blair stepped away and then turned to face him. "All the way home I've been thinking about this whole thing with Janet. How I've been... so full of anger. And hurt. And I've been thinking, over and over:  How could she do this to me? How could she do this to me?" Blair slowly shook his head. "She hasn't done anything to me. All this... crap... I've put myself through - it's agony and anxiety I've done to myself.  Nobody did this to me... but me."

What?

Blair straightened, his voice becoming more sure. "I decided I was a victim. I decided I was an impotent plaything in some game of hers. I gave all my power over to her."  He snorted. "The irony is that Janet never even knew it. I drove myself crazy with all these fantasies about how I hoped she felt bad about what she was doing to me. When, in truth, she probably just thought I tossed the court papers into my In basket as just another set of papers to deal with. She has no idea how I've reacted to this. She had to do what she felt she had to do and that's between her, her attorney, and whatever higher power she might believe in."

Whoa.  Jim definitely wasn't following. But he did know, "Chief, if you're beating yourself up for being upset... well, hell, being accused of sexual harassment is a pretty serious charge, if one has any integrity whatsoever. You'd have to be numb in mind and body to not be upset."

"I'm not upset with myself for being upset," Blair said. "I'm upset with myself for the way I handled being upset. I chose powerlessness. I chose self-pity. I chose rage and anxiety. I put myself - and you - through all this needless crap, instead of considering what I wanted to do from a position of strength, rather than from a position of Poor Me. I let Janet beat the shit of me, so to speak, because I'd decided I was helpless. Well, I'm not."

Jim almost took a step back from the force of that last statement.

Blair continued, "When Spikeman told me that I was taking this all too personally, I thought he was being a patronizing prick. But now I understand what he meant. I know what you meant, too, when you were talking about putting it all in perspective. This court case is just another piece of shit in the toilet of life. It's only as inconvenient or as life-altering as I want it to be."

This was too complicated. Jim was anxious for a bottom line. "So, what do you want to do about Janet?"  They had already had their attorney file for an extension to push back the deadline for their answer for her complaint.

"I want to give her what she's owed."

No way.  Angrily, Jim said, "You want to give her twenty-five thousand in the name of forgiveness?"

Blair looked at him as though he couldn't understand how Jim had missed his point. "No, of course not. I don't owe her twenty-five thousand."

Oh.  "Then what...?"

"Let me get the files and you can help me put some figures together."  Blair turned toward his office and said over his shoulder, "Can you call the lawyer and make an appointment, hopefully for Monday before I go out of town? Maybe they have a receptionist there on Saturdays."

"Sure, Chief," Jim muttered under his breath, turning toward the little desk area at one end of the kitchen, where the phone and Rolodex were. He wondered how he'd been a straight A student when he understood so very little.

Spikeman had a cancellation in the middle of Monday afternoon, which allowed Jim and Blair to see him.

After they all sat down, Blair started the meeting by saying, "I want to settle. But I don't want my counteroffer to be five thousand. I want it to be for the two days that Janet called in sick, since she followed company policy by calling in. And I want to give her two weeks' severance pay. Even though I didn't terminate her employment, I'll take responsibility for my fall, which caused her so much upset, so I have no problem paying her the standard two weeks to find another job."  He handed the attorney a sheet of paper. "That's the calculation I did on what she's owed."

Spikeman studied the sheet. "They're going to laugh at this. It's not even fifteen hundred dollars."

Blair shook his head. "I don't care. I want to show that I'm serious about how much I think she's owed. I want you to be hardnosed that we're going to trial otherwise. I didn't do anything wrong. I fell and hurt myself, not her. If I have to buckle a little at the last minute, I will. But I want five grand to be the absolute maximum that we settle for.  Otherwise, I will go to trial and risk losing and having to pay the full twenty-five that she wants and all the fees that will go with it. By that point, the amount will be irrelevant in light of the principle of this whole thing."

"All right." Spikeman gave Blair a smile. "I'll play it that way, since you sound sure it's what you want to do."

"It is." Blair looked at Jim and Jim gave him a reassuring smile.

Jim felt proud of Blair. He couldn't fault him for all his upset in the days following his receiving the complaint. But Blair had eventually worked himself out of his funk and had been able to think with his head instead of just his injured heart.

All because of a visit to a killer's gravesite.

One day maybe I'll understand....

He could tell, as Spikeman asked more questions and took more notes, that the attorney was feeling more respect for Blair, now that Blair had emerged from his panic and self-pity, and was ready to deal with the situation head-on.

In fact, as Jim watched Blair speak with such confidence, he wondered if it were possible that he was falling in love with Blair all over again. Can you re-fall in love when you were never out of love?

Maybe it was just their lovemaking over the weekend that was making Jim feel particularly mushy right now. Their activity had been more patient, tender and focused than it had been in what seemed like a long time. What's more, Blair had taken the rare role as the aggressor and Jim had enjoyed that change of pace very much.

Thinking about it, he crossed his legs.

A short time later, they emerged from the attorney's building and into a sunny afternoon.

Jim put his arm around Blair's shoulders as they moved toward the truck at the curb. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

Blair grinned at him. "Mmm. You're thinking about the weekend, aren't you?"

Jim moved around to the driver's side without answering. He got in, then reached over and popped the lock.

As Blair buckled his seatbelt, he said, "I guess I'll amuse myself during the flight by thinking about the weekend, too."

Jim quietly sighed. Time to go to the airport to drop Blair off, so he himself would have to suffer through the rest of the week alone in their large house.

He started the truck and waited for traffic to clear, then pulled out onto the street. He glanced over to see that Blair had pulled his organizer out of his briefcase - the organizer that Janet had made him get. "I didn't think you were still using that."

"I wasn't."  Blair put on his glasses. "But I decided it was stupid to throw away a good thing. I learned a lot from Janet. I may as well benefit from what I paid her for. This book has helped me with all kinds of record keeping."

"You know, Chief, I have to admit that I still don't understand how seeing Ms. Livingston at the cemetery led to your decision to offer Janet only a small settlement." He quickly added, "Not that I disapprove - on the contrary."

Blair looked over at him. "Jim, Ms. Livingston had decided to not let her daughter's murder ruin her life. She told me that she'd always believed that every human being is worthy of forgiveness. She held on to that, even in the most horrible of circumstances. She held to who she was."

When Blair paused, Jim said, "And that ties into your situation with Janet... how?"

"It forced me to examine what I genuinely believe in, which is myself. I let go of that when I got the court papers. I believed Spikeman that I would probably end up paying Janet double-digits in order to settle out of court. I had totally let go of who I was and what made sense to me."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Blair continued, "What's more, Ms. Livingston's forgiveness reminded me of how much power we have over how we deal with even the worst possible circumstances. When we feel life has beaten us down, it's real easy to forget how much strength we actually have. But we can't draw on that strength unless we can believe that it's there. Ms. Livingston's strength reminded me of my own."

Well, okay.

"And you know what?" Blair said.

"What?"

"I'm going to hire another secretary. I liked having one.  I know whoever I get probably won't be as good as Janet, but I need someone. It bugs me that nobody is going to be in the office while I'm gone this week."

All right! Jim thought. "You going to tell Rhonda?"

"Nope. You were right about it not being a good idea to hire friends or relatives. I mean, what if I hired Rhonda's sister, and she turned out not to be very good and I had to fire her for incompetence? That would be a nightmare."  He looked at Jim. "And if that pisses off Rhonda or anyone else we know, I don't care. I've got to do what's best for Blair Sandburg Consulting, Inc."

"I hear you, Boss."

Blair laughed. "If you keep calling me that, I might start to believe it."

Jim looked over at him. "You mean you don't already?"

Blair gently slapped his arm.

Jim grabbed the slapping hand and squeezed it. "I hate that you're leaving town."

"So do I."  Blair pushed his hair back. "I have to finish out this year's contract, but we'll talk about it before I renew for next year."

Jim nodded.

"You know, Jim, maybe you should look for a dog while I'm gone."

"What?"  Not that again.

"I'm serious. I would feel better, when I'm out of town, knowing that you're coming home to unconditional love. I'd like to help pick out a dog, but it's more important that the dog bond with you. So, maybe it would be best if you get one by yourself."

"Chief, we're both gone so much, it would be cruel to get a dog."

"Then maybe you should get two. Maybe littermates, if you want to get a puppy. They could keep each other company. Besides, if I end up not traveling so much next year, then I'll probably be working out of my office a lot. So the dog or dogs wouldn't be all alone."

"All the more reason to wait until next year."

Blair waved his hands in a placating manner. "All right, whatever. It's your isolation."

You had to remind me, Jim thought forlornly, as he took the exit that led to the airport.

Blair tossed the TV Guide aside and sat back on the bed. Another night away from home. Another hotel room without anything interesting on TV.

He took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Ellison," Jim greeted.

"Hey."

"Hey. You're in Sioux Falls?"

"Yep. And bored.  There was a little bit of drama earlier because it looked like the seminar packets I sent ahead didn't make it here. But somebody had misplaced the box and they eventually found it. What are you doing?"

With forced nonchalance, Jim said, "Looking in the classifieds."

Huh?  "For what?"

Jim chuckled. "You sound so worried. What do you think, Einstein? A puppy."

"Oh. Cool."

"Or not.  I don't know which of these friggin' dogs we should get. A German Shepherd... a Rottweiler... a Doberman.... a Collie. What the hell is a Pomeranian? That sounds like some kind of wuss dog."

"We don't want any wuss dogs."

"Exactly."

Blair kept his voice level. "But you want something small enough to sit in your lap, right Jim?"

"What?"

"You know, that you can cuddle with. You don't want some huge thing that's too big to snuggle up to you."

"I'm not getting some little yappy lap dog."  Snort. "I've already got you."

"Ha."

Blair heard the sound of newspaper folding. Jim grumbled, "I've had enough of this."

"Maybe you should get a mix. You know, try a shelter or rescue place."  Blair considered Jim's upper middle class roots. "Nah, you probably aren't the type of guy to bring home a homeless mutt."

"I brought home you."

Blair laughed, his mind going back to fond memories of his and Jim's beginnings. But he kept to the subject. "I'm just saying maybe you should focus on picking out an individual, rather than a breed.  That would be the advantage of a shelter."

Jim sighed heavily. "Yeah, well, whatever."  Sounds of the newspaper being pushed aside. "I don't want to deal with this right now. If we get a dog, you should help pick it out."

"Okay."  Blair really did want to be included in the selection, despite his conviction that Jim be the one to bond to the dog.

After a long pause, Jim said, "How many more of these fucking days do you have to be out of state?"

"The seminar season is barely underway. But I still have the books to work on, so the company knows they have to allow for that. I've been trying not to commit to too many days too close together."  Blair brightened at a thought. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I go to Minneapolis next month. That's also where the publishing company for the seminar books is located. So, I'm going to take some time to meet with the editor there. You know, just sort of feel him out as to what kind of books they're looking to publish more of, and since they already know me from the seminar books I'm doing... well, you never know when that might lead to my writing something else."

"Great. I hope something pops for you."

"Yeah, if I could get another career going outside of the PD, maybe I could drop the seminar stuff altogether; or, at least, stop conducting the seminars myself. I do like the teaching part of it though."

"Things will work out, Chief."

"I know."

"Hey, the guys were planning on having a beer after shift. I guess I'll go join them."

"Oh. Good. I'm glad you've got somewhere to go. Tell them I said hello."

"Yep. Wish you could be with us."

"So do I. But maybe I can find a boring movie to fall asleep to. I'll let you go. Love you."

"Yeah. Same here."

Blair hung up the phone and picked up the TV Guide.

A week later, they were sitting in Jonathan Spikeman's office.

"I must say I'm surprised," Spikeman said, looking at Blair. He pulled a group of papers from a file folder. "They've come back with a counteroffer but it's not nearly as high as I would have expected. They just want you to go up to thirty-five hundred, to cover attorney fees and expenses."

Jim shifted eagerly. This was better than they could have possibly hoped for.

Blair snorted. "That sounds a little steep for attorney fees and they're her own fault."  He shrugged. "But, yeah, I'm okay with that."  He looked at Jim.

Jim nodded his approval. Janet had probably gotten in over her head, in terms of the cost involved with initiating a lawsuit.

"Also, as part of the settlement agreement," Spikeman continued, "she's requiring that you provide her with a letter of recommendation."

"Jesus Christ," Jim said, shaking his head.

Blair grinned without humor. "She does have a lot of nerve."  But his expression changed to a business-like one. "Yeah, I can do that. She did a great job for me and I have no complaint about her work. I won't have to lie to give her a good recommendation."

"That's it, then?" Spikeman asked. "You don't want to mull it over for a day or two?"

Blair said, "Just tell me who to make the check to and I'll take care of it tonight. Ditto for the letter."

They left ten minutes later. As they were going down the elevator, Jim said, "I wonder why she folded so easily."

"Maybe she reached the same conclusion I did."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe she took a close look at what she really believed in. For all we know, it might have been her attorney who insisted on asking for twenty-five grand to make it worth his time. Maybe all she wanted was the severance pay."  Blair looked thoughtful. "She's always had integrity, Jim. Even after all of this, I don't believe she was ever trying to hurt me or make me suffer. I think she genuinely believed I deliberately squeezed her breast and, for whatever issues she has about men or people in general, it traumatized her so she couldn't work with me anymore. Hell, maybe she was assaulted in her past. So, she just needed something to tide her over until she found a new job. Why else would she want the recommendation letter?"

"That's a pretty fancy story," Jim said. "And if it's even somewhat true, that's a sad statement on how she's ended up. Obviously, she hasn't found a new job yet and now nearly two months have gone by. Two weeks pay isn't going to make that up."

"Maybe that's why she upped it to thirty-five hundred and the attorney fees thing was just an excuse to save face."

"Maybe. But we know the attorney fees are real and she's going to have a tough time paying until she gets another job."

Blair waved his hands. "Yeah and that's as far as my sympathy goes. She made her bed; she'll have to sleep in it."

Three days later, Jim came home from work to find the table nicely set and candles lit.

Uh-oh. What anniversary did I forget?

Blair smiled warmly at him from the kitchen. "Hi."

"Hi," Jim returned, with trepidation. He indicated the table. "What...?"

Blair moved to the dining table and pulled out Jim's chair. "Sit. I'll bring you a beer. I'll explain when I've set all the food out."

Jim's cheek was kissed while Blair's arms went around his shoulders. Okay, so there apparently wasn't anything he was supposed to remember. Blair seemed awfully happy and mushy. He wondered what had happened today. As far as he knew, Blair hadn't had any important appointments. He'd placed an ad for a new secretary but it wasn't going to appear until tomorrow.

A roasted chicken was at the center of the table when Blair finally sat down, having poured the wine.  He picked up his glass and looked across the table at Jim.

Jim followed suit and picked up his. "What are we toasting?"

"You."

Me?

"Yes."  The warm smile was back on Blair's face. "I wanted to do this dinner and take this moment just to let you know how much I love and appreciate that you are you."

"Oh."  Jim felt bashful and wasn't sure what good deed he'd done.

Blair continued to beam at him. "It's like the past few months I've gone through all this... stuff. All this drama. And you keep being right there, so steady. So reliable."

Jim wasn't sure he was up to such naked admiration. "Is that just a long-winded way of saying I'm predictable?"

Blair chuckled. "Maybe."  Then he said, "I love your predictability, Jim. Your stability is what's kept me anchored whenever crap comes along. It means so much to me that when I fly off the handle about something, you don't fly off too. Yet, you don't try to tell me how to be or try to change me. You let me be me."  He swallowed thickly. "To you."  He touched his glass to Jim's. Then he drank.

Jim drank too. He knew he needed to say something when he put his wine glass down.

"You don't need to say anything," Blair said as Jim lowered his glass. "I just wanted to make sure you know I'm fully aware that, lately, you and I have been all about me and my hassles and problems. But I've never forgotten how much of us is you, event though you don't ever seem to ask for much or complain about much."

Jim slowly folded his hands, his elbows perched on the table. "I've never felt left behind, Chief."  But it felt good to hear all of Blair's words. He grinned. "Still, it would be fine with me if things got a bit boring for awhile."

Blair started serving the food. "Nah. We need to keep things stirred up. Getting a dog - or two - will probably guarantee that."

Jim picked up his fork. "Oh. You haven't forgotten about the dog thing."

Blair grinned. "No, I haven't forgotten about the dog thing. A dolled-up Poodle might be kind of nice."

"We already have a dolled-up Poodle."  Jim looked pointedly at Blair's hair.

Blair's expression became thoughtful. "Let's see. You've called me a lap dog, a homeless mutt, and now a dolled-up Poodle. Make up your mind, Jim."

Jim shrugged. "Always changing your spots?"

They both laughed.

Then Blair said, "So, now I'm a Dalmation. I think the bottom line here is that you consider me to be a dog."

"Cute and cuddly, for sure."

"Then, after dinner, I'd better get my butt scratched and my head patted and my tummy rubbed."

Jim nodded, feigning thoughtfulness. "Yeah. And then after that," he grinned inwardly, "I'll get out the leash."

Blair's eyes widened. "LEASH?"

"Yeah. You mean I've never told you that I'm into leather?"

END