Tales from The Carriage House: Author's Notes

 

·         I might have gotten a bit carried away with this story.  There are multiple crossovers from other things that I’ve written.  It’s not necessary to have read the other stories, but it might explain a few things.  My apologies.

·         The Carriage House concept comes from the story “Mismatched Forks.”  The Carriage House scholarship program is mentioned at the end of that story so Romy Devereaux, Charlotte “Charli” Guillory, and Phoebe Sterling are threads that run throughout the Tales.

·         The story begins with a reference to the Exchange.  They’re a rather shadowy organization from the Emma Couteau/Kyle Donovan series; Shadows and Grays, Considerations, et al.

·         Chapter 1.  Ana Diaz and the opening setting was pulled from “Summer Dances.”  I had always wondered what happened to Ana after the end of that story.

·         Chapter 2.  I wanted to follow Chapter 1’s supernatural story with something a bit more grounded.  The idea was that each chapter would be different from the others.  Molly is a bit rougher around the edges than Ana.

·         Chapter 3.  There was a guy when I was growing up who actually did his science fair project where he distilled his urine and drank it.  The Exchange takes a bit of center stage in this chapter when I decided to suddenly veer from a rather mundane plot into a different superpower vibe.  I was looking for a butterfly effect story and developed this one.  Tess was such a fun character to write.  Also, her verification code that the Exchange gives her is binary for the number three, since she is the third chapter.

·         Chapter 4.  I needed another down-to-earth story to balance out the fantasy stories.  There aren’t any crossovers from my other stories.  I wanted a chapter where Romy Devereaux was rebuffed, and she calls Charli about what happened.  I was a bit challenged in trying to develop chapters that had original scholarship projects. 

·         Chapter 5.  The hardest chapter to write.  I didn’t want the tragedy to take center stage, but the event played such a strong, albeit offstage, role.  I hope I captured Miki’s trauma respectfully.  Kaiteki translates into ‘comfort,’ and the name Yukina can mean ‘friend’ or ‘companion.’  Mr.O’s garden from Chapter 4 makes an appearance here.  The title “The Sakura Still Falls for Me’ evokes the idea that even though the Japanese people in the concentration camps could not experience the falling of the cherry blossom petals, they could still embrace the transient and beautiful nature of life.

·         Chapter 6.  I liked writing Trish, she’s such a badass.  The verbal sparring with Romy was fun.  The dragon motif was accidental and fell more and more into place as I wrote.  I intended to take the chapter into the chaos of the fire, but I actually had no idea how I was going to save Trish.  At one point, I even considered not having her survive at all.  I had to figure out who she was going to save, how that person got there, how was I going to make it where Trish was the one to save someone and not the fire department, how to make the fire in such a way that she HAD to be the one to do the rescue, and then figure out how to save her.  I’m glad she survived because I like how she tossed in the line about her car getting parking tickets at the end.

·         Epilogue.  Riley’s verification code is one, one, one, which is binary for 7.

·         I really would like to see some of these community projects come to life.  Like real life.

Tales from The Carriage House: Epilogue

 

“Exchange,” a voice said.

            “One, one, one.”

“Verified.  Are you in danger?”

            “No… I just have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

            “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘deus ex machina’?”

There was a pause before the voice from the Exchange answered.  “Riley, you know we don’t help with homework.”  You could almost hear the smile through the phone.

            A sigh drifted from the speakers.  “I know, but I was just hoping…”

“It’s okay.  You must never give up on hope…”

            It was quiet before she responded.  “…Can I call you tomorrow?"

“Of course… Is there anything else?”

            “No, that’s all…” She looked at her phone.

“All right then.  Good night, Riley.”  Then softly, “End call.”

            “Bye bye…”

Tales from The Carriage House: Chapter 6

 

The dark figure swung from the climbing rig, spray can in hand, wide swatches of color flashed across the blank canvas of the abandoned building.  Back and forth, crisscrossing the side of the eight-story edifice, they worked until the visage of a fiery dragon emerged, challenging the arrival of the approaching sunrise.  Some say artist, others cry vandal, either way, the one who had brought the mythical creature to life slid down their rope, gathered their gear and scurried to their vehicle.  They threw the climbing equipment into the trunk before sliding into the safe harbor of their car.

“You know,” a soft voice floated from the back seat, “even though the building is set to be demolished, it’s still a crime to paint on the side of a building without permission from the owner.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the driver’s seat, followed by a long sigh of defeat.  Eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.  “You got me…”

“Patricia Nolan, you’re one hard girl to find…”  The voice paused, “I want to offer you a scholarship.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Trish was slumped in a booth in a coffee shop, staring at the smartly dressed woman across from her.  She shook her head and thought to herself, Who wears a business suit at five in the morning?  “Okay, so you’re not a cop,” she started and glanced at the business card she was holding.  She idly flipped it around and around in her hands, “You some kinda social worker or something?”

The woman took a sip of her coffee, smiled, and gestured at the card.  “My name is Romy Devereaux and I’m a lawyer for the Guillory Corporation.”

Trish snorted.  “That some kind of crime family?  Is he your enforcer?” she gestured toward a man dressed in black at a nearby table.

“He’s my driver,” Devereaux chuckled.  “He DOES have a particular set of skills though, like opening car doors for me…”

“-Like MY car door.”

Rather pointedly, the lawyer said, “I DID want to talk to you.”

Trish sighed, quiet for a few moments.  She stared into her cup and took a deep breath.  “Well, okay,” she relented.  “Make your pitch.”

Devereaux smiled to herself, acknowledged the small victory, and seized the momentum.  “Two women, Charlotte Guillory and Phoebe Sterling, established a scholarship fund for young women who have displayed an undiscovered, untapped potential.”  She pulled a packet from her tote and when she did so, she caught a flicker of curiosity that crossed Trish’s face.   The lawyer plowed ahead.  “They have the desire to crack open that potential and the resources to fully bring your dreams to life.  They’re offering you a scholarship.”  She held her breath and waited.

Trish pursed her lips, and stared out the window, watching the sunrise bathe her dragon in fire.  “Why me?” she said quietly, “What if I say no?”

The lawyer’s heart skipped a beat and followed the young girl’s gaze out the window.  “You did the two dragons racing on the roadcut on Highway 190,” she said thoughtfully.  “And the group of baby dragons playing on that old building facing the Children’s Hospital downtown.”  Her eyes turned back to Trish.  “Maybe you want to stay in the shadows, Patricia, I don’t know… But there’s something sleeping in you, waiting.”  She said quietly, “Let’s wake it up and give it some wings.”

Trish closed her eyes, rubbing her paint-stained fingers together, rocking back and forth in her seat.  She opened her eyes, stealing another look at her dragon, and with a tiny nod, she said, “Let’s do this.  What do I have to do?”

“Let’s take a look at this.”  Devereaux opened the packet and spread the contents out onto the table.  “This is a fully funded, four-year scholarship.  The university has an excellent Fine Arts program, and everything is paid.”  She looked up with a smile, “Ev-ery-thing.  Tuition, fees, supplies.  You get to live in the Carriage House, free of charge, on the Sterling Estate…you can read about that here,” she said, pushing another paper toward her.  “Any questions so far?”

“How did you even find me?”  Trish shook her head.  “Are you sure you have the right person?”

Devereaux sat back, nodding her head.  “I’ve been working with these people for several years now.  They have an absolute gift for finding the most deserving individuals.  There’s an incredible network of people and resources you would not believe.”  She looked at Trish straight in the eye.  “If they say Patricia Nolan deserves this scholarship, then trust me.  You deserve this scholarship.”

Trish tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.  She sat silent for a few moments, then said, “I’m all out of snappy comebacks…”

The lawyer chuckled.  “It’s all good.  All you have to do is keep up your grades, and by the time your four years are up, you have to come up with a community service project.  That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes…Oh, one more thing… I have a message from Charlotte Guillory.”  Devereaux pulled an envelope from her tote and handed it to the young girl.  “This is for you.”

Trish pulled out a note, her eyes widening.  “There are some that fear the dragons.  Here’s to those that ride them.”

 

Three weeks later, Trish arrived at the Carriage House.  “You must be the artist,” Phoebe exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug.  “I’ve seen pictures of your work.  I think that’s just amazing!”  She unlocked the door and ushered her in.  “Don’t you get scared being up so high?”

Blushing, the young girl smiled, already basking in her host’s warmth.  “I got used to it after a while.”

Phoebe pulled her over to the sofa, her eyes sparkling.  “What’s it like?”  She shivered slightly.  “I can’t imagine…”

Trish sighed happily, looking off into the distance.  “It’s like flying.  You’re hanging off the rope, the wind brushing against you, the street sounds far beneath you…”  She closed her eyes, “You’re just free…”

“That’s just beautiful…”

 

It didn’t take long for Trish to unpack her things, so she decided to do a little exploring.  She found herself rubbing her hands on her jeans as she drove past the construction sites downtown and the roadcuts farther out on the edge of town.  She grinned ruefully, remembering her promise to not do anything illegal. 

Her meandering drive took her through an older part of town where she admired the renovations of several old office buildings.  Suddenly, her car was rocked as a wall of air collided with her vehicle.  A split second later, a wave of sound and a flash of light exploded in front of her.  She swung her car over to the curb, staring at one of the tall buildings surrounded by scaffolding.  A cloud of smoke pushed from the top floor, and fire began shooting from the windows.

The figure of a man suddenly flopped out of one of the windows and lay unmoving on one of the frames.  “Crap!” she shouted as flames licked closer and closer to the unconscious man.  Without hesitation, Trish threw open the trunk of her car and with experienced movements, pulled on her climbing gear.  She grabbed her rope and quickly clambered up the eight floors of scaffolding to reach the still body.

“Okay buddy, we gotta get you out of here,” she muttered and glanced at the advancing wall of flame.  “We don’t have much time.”  Trish grunted as she tied the rope around the unconscious man.  Looping the rope through a figure-eight descender, she thought to herself, This should work, right?  She never had to worry about lowering someone else before, just herself.  Peering through the smoke, she noticed several people on the ground waving to her to lower the man, so she bit her lip and pushed him over the side.  She winced as the rope whipped through her hands, her gloves bearing the brunt of the friction.  Thankfully the rope relaxed, and Trish breathed a sigh of relief as the unconscious man was carried away.

Suddenly, the scaffolding shifted, and her rope slipped from her hands.  Instinctively, Trish reached up, grabbed the framework above her, and flung herself onto the roof of the building.  The sound of the metal pipes falling away rang in her ears.

“Dammit!” she screamed.  She ran to the other side of the building, searching for another way down; a fire escape, a power line, anything.  There, attached to the roof, a yellow tube disappeared over the edge.  A trash chute.  Trish glanced back at the flames licking over the other side of the building, looked down into the tube, shook her head, and after a moment’s hesitation, threw herself down the chute.

 

Phoebe watched the news report, her hand to her mouth.  Romy Devereaux stood tight-lipped, her hands on her hips, while Charli Guillory, slowly shook her head.  She turned to the slight figure in the hospital bed.  “Rope burns, broken leg, bruised ribs, slight concussion.”

Trish looked up with a weak smile.  “I think my car might have parking tickets too.”

 

Afterword

After an investigation, it was determined that the fire was caused when a worker, the man who was rescued, accidently triggered the initial explosion while working with a cutting torch.  He recovered from his injuries and returned to work after several months of rehabilitation and retraining.

Patricia Nolan spent four months in recovery, rehabilitation and physical therapy.  She avoided the spotlight despite the local media calling her Spider Girl, but privately embraced the title, Mother of Dragons.  Her degree in Fine Arts was a testament to her hard work and resilience.  Trish became well known for her murals around the city, and her scholarship program harkened back to her roots.  She created a municipal organization that matched graffiti artists with businesses and contractors, providing funding, authorization, and paint for citywide projects.

Trish quietly added phoenixes to fly with her dragons.

Tales from The Carriage House: Chapter 5

 

Miki stared at the view from her doorbell camera, a slight frown crossing her face.  She was expecting her therapist, Evie Harrison, but standing next to her was a professionally dressed young woman that she had never seen before.

“Hi, Miki!  It’s Evie.  I’m here for our session.”  She smiled into the camera, then motioned for the other woman to step up.  “Remember, I mentioned how I was bringing someone to talk to you?”

Her mother walked over to look at the screen and nodded to her daughter.  “It’s okay, Mouse,” she patted her daughter on the shoulder.

The stranger spoke to the camera, “Hi!  My name is Romy Devereaux.  Should I call you Mikayla, or Miki?”

The young girl took a deep breath before answering, “You can call me Miki.”

Evie smiled and spoke up, “I know this is different for you, Miki.  You’re doing great.  May we come in?”

With a small, brave smile, Miki nodded, “I’ll unlock the door.”  Putting down the phone, she walked to the door to let the two women in.  She stepped to the side as they entered, then locked the door behind them.  “We can sit in the living room.”

Evie gave a slight nod to Devereaux and led her to the sofa; Miki followed a few steps behind.  When all three had taken their seats, Evie leaned forward and asked, “How have you been since we last talked?  How’s school going?”

Miki glanced at the computer desk in the corner of the living room.  “It’s going okay.”  She clasped her hands together in her lap as she spoke.  “I like being able to hit Replay on the computer when I have trouble with some of the lessons.”

Tilting her head, Devereaux asked, “Is it hard to do all your classes on Zoom?”

“Sometimes.  If I don’t understand something, I have to email the teacher, and they don’t always get back to me right away.”  Miki looked at her hands and said softly, “But it’s better than having to be…there.”

Before Miki could get lost in her thoughts, Evie interjected, “We’ve talked about you graduating in May.  Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Miki closed her eyes as thoughts swirled around in her head, “I…I…I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Her mother came over and sat on the arm of the sofa next to her daughter.  “It’s okay, honey.  We don’t have to make any decisions right now.”  She glanced at the therapist for a moment, “It’s been a year since-”

Softly, Devereaux interrupted.  “I work with some amazing people, Miki, and we have something we’d like you to consider.” She smiled, “Evie told us what a remarkable student you are, and the company I work with came up with a plan that we think might work for you.”  She handed a packet to the young girl and then another packet to her mother.  “Two women, Charlotte Guillory and Phoebe Sterling established a scholarship fund to support deserving young women with their education.”  The lawyer gestured at the therapist, “Evie gave us your name because she thought you are one of those young women.  And frankly, we agree.”

Miki blinked and looked up for the first time.  “Me?”

“Yes, you Mikayla Thorne,” Devereaux replied firmly.  “The Guillory Corporation looks for, and finds, people who have promise, and then, they help those students fulfill their dreams.”

“But my grades suck!”  Miki blurted out, clenching her fists, “After the shooting-” She words caught in her throat, and she froze in place.

Mrs. Thorne’s hand covered her mouth.

Evie gently put her hand on Miki’s knee.

Devereaux took a breath.  “We can’t change the past, Mikayla.  But we want to change your future.” She glanced at the therapist who nodded to her to continue.  “We have a place for you to stay while at school.  It’s on the Sterling estate and Pheobe Sterling, one of the founders, lives on the property.  Also, there will be someone else there who will go with you to your classes, to the library, wherever you want, but only if you want.”  The lawyer looked Miki in the eye, “We will look out for you.”  She turned and addressed Miki’s mother, “Look over the packet.  If you have any questions, my card is in the envelope.  You don’t have to make any decisions right away.”

Miki was still trembling when Devereaux took a note from her pocket, “When Ms. Guillory heard about you, she wrote this note and told me to give it to you.  Whatever you decide, she wants you to know that she will be thinking of you.”  She nodded to Mrs. Thorne, “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to you.” 

After the two women had left, Miki carefully opened the paper.  The handwritten note said, “Progress is not to be measured by how far we travel, but that we moved at all.  We choose to move forward.”

 

Outside, the two women stood on the sidewalk.  Devereaux took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  “What do you think?”

 “I don’t know.  Ever since the school shooting…”  Evie shook her head, “Before, Miki was a brilliant student, popular, outgoing.  But everything changed that morning.  I can’t imagine what it was like in that classroom…”

“I heard she was the only survivor,” the lawyer said quietly.

The therapist nodded, “She told me that she had greeted him earlier in the morning, but when the shooting started…”  She paused.  “He pointed the gun at her and stopped.  That’s when the police took him out.”  Evie looked at Devereaux, “She’s come a long way, but…”

The lawyer stared at the house for a moment, “Yeah…”

 

A week later, Evie Harrison returned to the Thorne house for her regularly scheduled visit.  “Hi, Miki!  It’s Evie.  I’m here for our session.  May I come in?”  She waited patiently as Miki checked the doorbell cam, and heard the deadbolt being turned on the door.  A smile crossed Evie’s face as Miki appeared in the doorway.  “How have you been since we last talked?”  Miki flashed a guilty look at the unopened packet sitting on the coffee table.

“Ah.”  Evie pursed her lips.  “Would you like for us to open it together?”  Miki gave a small nod, so the therapist opened the envelope and spread the contents on the table.  She picked up the top paper and looked it over.  “These people have really thought this through,” she murmured, leaning forward and handing the paper to the young woman.  “The university has a great film school and look at this suggested course load they picked out for you!  Most of these first-year classes can be accessed online if you want.”  Evie took a deep breath and sat up straight.  “As your therapist, I can’t tell you what to do…” she said quietly.  “But I think-, I KNOW you can do this.”  Evie put her hands together in her lap, closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at Miki.  “What do you think?”

Miki opened her mouth to respond but then closed it.  Taking a deep breath, she asked quietly, “What if I can’t do it?”

A quick little smile crossed the therapist’s face as she noted the huge chasm that Miki crossed, “Then we can say we tried.  We can say we moved forward.”

 

Several months later, in a quiet ceremony at her home, Principal Randall Evans presented Miki her diploma.  He intoned, “By the power vested in me by the State, I hereby declare that Mikayla Louise Thorne shall, from this day forward, be recognized as an official graduate of Lincoln High School.”  With a smile, he said, “You may now move your tassel.”

Miki blushed as the small gathering cheered and applauded; her parents wrapped her up with hugs, Evie Harrison and Romy Devereaux tossed confetti.  After a moment, Miki blinked once, then again.  Smiling softly, she suggested, “Let’s have some cake.”

A short time later, there was a knock at the door.  Evie exchanged a knowing glance and smile with Devereaux, then gestured to Miki, “I think your graduation present has arrived.”  The three went to the door and when it swung open, Miki gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.  There, waiting patiently on the porch, sat a black Labrador Retriever, his tail beating happily.  The young woman holding the leash handed it to Miki, saying, “His name is Kaiteki.” 

Miki knelt and buried her face in the animal’s soft fur.  The animal leaned into her as she heard the dog’s handler speaking in the background.  “Ms. Guillory extends her congratulations and wishes you the best in all your endeavors.  Here are the documents that show that Kaiteki is officially registered as an Emotional Support Animal so that he can accompany you to your classes.”  A slow tear began to trickle down her face only for her to stop and giggle as the dog delicately licked it off.

 

A few weeks before school started, Miki’s parents moved her into the Carriage House to get her settled in and familiar with her new surroundings.  Evie, her therapist, waited by the door, and next to her was Phoebe Sterling, one of the founders of the scholarship program.  Phoebe welcomed her warmly, showing her all the comforting features of the house, including the drawer for her fork from home.  She pointed out a screen in the kitchen, “This monitor will allow you to view all the cameras surrounding the house, turn the lights off and on, all those cool things.” Evie chimed in, “There’s a smaller version close to the bed too.”

Kaiteki pushed his nose into Miki’s hand, and she let out a reassuring sigh of relief.  “That’s terrific.”  She turned slowly, taking it all in and noticed several large blue buttons positioned around the house.  “What are these?” she asked, pointing.

Evie nodded, “Those are another layer of assistance…” She looked over at the dog, “Kaiteki, call for Help.”  He padded over to the button, pushed it with his nose, then sat down next to Miki.  “He was trained to do that, to push the button and then wait next to you so that you wouldn’t be left alone.”  There was a knock on the door.  “Come in!” Evie called.

The door opened and Kaiteki barked in recognition.  “Good job, boy!” The young woman who had brought the dog to Miki’s graduation ceremony calmly walked into the living room.  She nodded her head in greeting, “Hi, my name is Yukina Sato; I’ll be your CPO.”

Miki blinked several times and took a deep breath.  “Hi?” she hesitated, looking back and forth between her two benefactors.  “CPO?”

Yukina smiled.  “That stands for Close Protection Officer, a sort of bodyguard if you will.  I’m your neighbor in the cottage across the driveway.  When you or Kaiteki push the button, it rings my phone as well as a phone in Ms. Sterling’s house.  I’m just here to make sure everything’s okay.  But…”  She leaned in a little closer, saying quietly, “Since I’ll be in the classroom with you, I’ll actually be enrolled in the same courses.  I hope we can be study buddies.”

A shy grin broke out on Miki’s face.  “I think that’s great.”

 

Miki’s first semester progressed smoothly, her academic classes could be accessed online so that she was able to avoid large gatherings of people.  A few of other classes were accommodated with evening schedules, allowing for interactions with smaller groups of students.  Miki, Kaiteki, and Yukina would typically sit in the back and off to the side, giving both Miki and the dog some space.  Life was slowly returning to normal for Miki.

 

One night, while studying at the dining room table, Yukina looked up from her notebook and cleared her throat.  “Miki, I have a question.”

Surprised, Miki put down her pencil and looked over at her study buddy.  “Is everything okay?”  Kaiteki raised his head for a moment and looked at the two women before putting his head back on his paws. 

Yukina chuckled, “I’m usually the one asking that question.”  She took a breath, suddenly all business.  “It’s this film class.  I have to ask; will you be my partner for the semester project?”

Miki blinked several times in surprise.  “Well, yeah-”

Yukina reached across the table and gave her a quick hug, “Oh, thank you!” before suddenly drawing back.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Miki said with a little laugh, “We’re okay.  But why me?”

“Well, damn girl,” Yukina rolled her eyes, “You seriously have the best eye in the class.  Your perspectives are terrific, your framing, everything.  And your editing skills are on point.”  She offered her hand, “I want you on my team before someone else snatches you up.”

Miki studied her hand for a long moment, then slowly reached over to shake it.  “Deal.”

 

“So what’s your idea?”  The two girls were making their way down a path framed by gardens to a retirement home; Kaiteki trotted alongside Miki.

Yukina stared straight ahead as they walked, “My grandmother is a second-generation Japanese.” She spoke reverently, “At the beginning of World War II, even though she was an American citizen, she and her parents and all her siblings were rounded up and taken to an internment camp, a concentration camp really.  She has so many stories, and I want to record them before they’re lost and forgotten.”  They reached the residence, and Yukina held the door for Miki and Kaiteki to enter. 

As they got inside, an older Japanese woman called out, “Yuki-chan!”  She walked over to Miki, grasped her hand in hers, and turned to Yukina, “Who is your friend?”

Yukina gently hugged her grandmother.  “Obasan, this is Miki.  She is going to help me record your stories.”  She silently mouthed, Are you okay?  Miki smiled and nodded, holding the frail woman’s hands.  “Let’s go to the library where we can talk, grandma.”

Miki set up the camera and for the next three hours, Yukina’s grandmother regaled the two girls with stories about growing up in the bustling cities on the West Coast, only to be taken from her home to the empty deserts of Arizona.  She described how she was looked down upon by the guards as something less than human, but how her parents continued to live proud lives in such inhumane conditions.  She shook her head.  “It was hard, Yuki-chan,” but then she looked up and smiled, “but every day, we stood together, proud, never giving up.  And we made it out.”  Tears glistened in her eyes, and her granddaughter wrapped her arms around her.

“It’s been a long day, Obasan.  Why don’t I take you back to your room so you can lie down?”  Yukina gently took her grandmother’s arm, and the two of them made their way from the library.

Kaiteki whined as Miki sat silently, a tear rolling down her cheek.  She wiped it away with the sleeve of her shirt and looked down at her companion leaning against her leg.  “I’m okay, boy,” she said, patting him on the head, “I’m okay.”  Miki turned off the camera and removed the SD card, turning it over and over in her hands.  Finally, she pulled out a case and secured the memories of Yukina’s grandmother before pulling out a new card.  She placed it in the camera, then turned the camera around to focus on herself.  She blinked several times, swallowed hard, and recorded…

“On May 1^st last year, a boy walked into my classroom with a gun.  My name is Mikayla Louise Thorne, and I am a survivor.”

 

Afterword

The short film “The Sakura Still Falls for Me,” directed by Yukina Sato, and edited by Mikayla Thorne, won an award at the university, then at a statewide film festival before being nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Short Film.  The film showcased the extraordinary life of one of the survivors of the US internment camps of the 1940s.

Mikayla Thorne graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree, and for her senior project Miki set up an installation where a wall of movie screens showed stories on a loop.  Each mini movie was a personal story told by a survivor of abuse or violence.  For her scholarship project, Miki created easy to use kits that could be installed at schools, retirement homes, hospitals, any place where people could record a one-to-two-minute story.  Her BE SEEN project raised awareness on bullying, depression, eating disorders, loneliness, homelessness, poverty, and many areas populated by marginalized people.  She would curate the stories into thematic reels and after obtaining the proper releases, would post them online where others could access the stories by category.

Yukina Sato also received a BFA in filmmaking and now splits her time between the media office and continued field work for the Exchange.

Tales from The Carriage House: Chapter 4

Sophie closed her laptop with a sigh.  Ever since her fall at the State meet last month, the scholarships had dried up.  Apparently, no one wanted an injured athlete to be on their squad.  Her father walked behind her and patted her shoulder.  “You can always go to the community college and then maybe one of the colleges will pick you up…”  His voice trailed off as the false hope hung in the air.  “We’ll figure something out, Soph.”

The house felt stuffy as tears welled up in her eyes.  She grabbed her crutches and made her way to the door.  “I need to get some air.”

She hobbled down the street past the well-manicured yards, when Mr. Ortega, one of her neighbors, looked up from working in his flowerbed.  “Sophie!”  He eyed the crutches and spoke softly, “You doin’ okay?  Everybody in town is so sorry about your injury.”  His face turned thoughtful, then he bent down for a moment.  When he straightened up, he handed her a fistful of irises.  “Take these home.  Flowers always make things better.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ortega.” She breathed in their sweet scent, “These are beautiful.” 

He gave her a soft hug.  “You got this.”

As she neared her home, she saw her father standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching a young woman on her phone walking back to her car.  Sophie had seen her type before, people trying to lure her to their colleges.  She watched the car drive away and she said, “Another recruiter?”

Her dad shook his head, “I’m just so tired with these people and their fake promises.”  They turned to go into the house.  “Nice flowers, where did they come from?” The door closed softly behind them.

 

Later that night, while her parents were taking care of the dinner dishes and telling jokes over the kitchen sink, Sophia heard a soft knock at the front door.  “I’ll get it!” she called out and limped over to answer the door.  Who comes this late in the evening, she wondered.  To her surprise, the young woman from that afternoon was standing at the door.  Another figure lingered further back in the shadows.

“Sophie Watson?” she asked gently.  “I spoke to your father earlier today.”  She extended her hand, offering her business card.  “My name is Romy Devereaux.  I’m a lawyer for the Guillory Corporation.”

Sophie hesitated, then took the card.  “Umm..hi.  Yes, I’m Sophie.”

The other person, a woman much younger than the lawyer, stepped forward and took Sophie’s hand in both of hers.  “Hi, Sophie.  I’m so happy to meet you.  I’m Charli Guillory.  I’d like to offer you a scholarship.”

 

Once everyone was seated in the living room, Mr. Watson spoke up.  “I didn’t mean to seem rude earlier today, but I don’t understand why you’d want to give my Sophie a scholarship.”

“Daaad!”  Mortified, Sophie stared at her father.

Charli smiled and waved it off.  “No, I get it.  I suppose after the track meet, colleges stopped trying to court you.”

Shamefaced, Sophie shook her head.  “Yeah, it really hurt.  There were lots of scouts in the stands, and after-” She grew quiet for a moment.  “The calls stopped coming.”

Charli patted Sophie’s knee, her voice fierce.  “We saw you fall just like everyone else.  But I saw the determination you had to finish even though you were hurt.  I think that stands for much more than just someone who can run.” Her eyes locked onto Sophie’s.  “That’s why I want to give you this scholarship.  Not because you could run, but because you can fight.”

Overwhelmed, Sophie sat back in her chair. “I don’t know what to say…”

Charli grinned, “Say yes.  All I ask is that you fulfill a promise to pay it forward.  All the information is in the packet.”

Sophie’s dad cleared his throat.  “I think we, her mom and I, and Sophie, need to think about this.  Can we call you in the morning with our decision?”

“Of course.  I understand.  It is a bit to think about.  If you have any questions,” Charli pulled her business card from her purse, “This is a direct line.  Call me anytime.”  She stood and shook everyone’s hands, “Thank you for inviting us in.  We’ll talk later.”  She turned to Sophie, “Whatever you decide, it was an honor to meet you tonight.”  Charli gathered her things, and with a nod, the two women stepped into the night.

 

Mr. Watson took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Well, Soph, what do you think?”

She pursed her lips and nodded.  “I like her.”

With a little smile, her dad confided, “So do I.  Let’s look through this packet.”

After a few minutes, Sophie’s eyes widened as she looked through the forms.  “Dad,” she stammered, “this is a fully funded, four-year ride.”  She showed him the paperwork.  “This isn’t an athletic scholarship; it’s not even an academic scholarship!  All they want is for me to keep up my grades and do a project.”

“Let me see that.”  He read through the papers.  “An investment in the future?  Who does that?”

“Look at this.” There was a small envelope with Sophie’s name on it.  Inside was a handwritten note from Charli Guillory.  “Some people saw you fall and thought it was all over.  I saw you rise and knew you had just begun,”

Sophie sat back in her chair, looked at her parents and said, “I gotta do this.”

 

Between her course load and the physical therapy for her knee, Sophie was feeling the strain of college life.  She was adjusting, but in one of her calls home, her frustrations boiled over.  “Mom, all I do is go to class, study, go to PT, do my exercises, go to sleep, wake up and do it all over again.”  She sighed.  “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Why don’t you come home this weekend, sweetie?” her mother’s comforting voice was warm and inviting, “Some homecooked food will make you feel better.”

Moms always know what to do, Sophie thought, smiling.  “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Late that Friday night, Sophie made the drive home and without waking anyone, slipped into the darkened house.  The next morning, she awoke to the smell of bacon and pancakes and hurried down to the kitchen.  “Mom!  How did you know I was home?” She hugged her mom, grabbed a plate and dived into a stack of pancakes.

“Your father saw your car this morning, so I got up to make you breakfast.”  Her mother picked up a plate as well and placed a warm kiss on Sophie’s cheek as she walked by.  She took her seat and turned to her daughter, “So tell me about school.”

Between bites of butter ladened pancakes, Sophie shared the challenges of being at college; the classwork, living away from home, her struggles with rehabilitation. 

Her mom nodded, patted her arm sympathetically and said, “I know you can do this, sweetie.  You’ve always taken on your challenges, always fighting.  Your dad and I believe in you, and so do those Guillory people.” She stood up to take her plate to the sink. “You got this, Sophie.  Just go at your own speed.  You’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Ruefully, Sophie smiled.  “My speed is slow right now.”  She stood, stretched, and made her way to the door, “I’m going to take a little walk.”  She made her way down the sidewalk and passed by Mr. Ortega working in his flowerbed. 

“Good morning, mija!  Home for the weekend?”  Her neighbor patted the ground beside him, and she joined him on the grass.

“I just needed to come home for a break.  Relax for a bit,” she sighed, and idly started plucking weeds from the garden.

Mr. Ortega chuckled, “You don’t have to do that, Sophie.”

She pulled another weed, turning it over in her hand.  “Actually, this is kind of relaxing.  You got your fresh air; you get to touch grass.”  She looked thoughtful.

“It gives me something to do, and the flowers are so pretty.” He bent down to sniff one of the blooms.  “They bring me joy.”

Sophie sat up straight, her eyes opening wide.  She suddenly leaned over and gave him a hug, “Thank you, Mr. Ortega!”  She jumped up with a little wobble and made her way home, yelling, “I got it, mama!  I got it!”

 

Afterword

Sophie Watson never regained her running form.  On the other hand, she became a force in the field of Environmental Architecture.  She graduated with Honors and with seed money from the Guillory Corporation, designed and developed a plan to establish small gardens near walking trails and retirement homes.  The gardens are tended by the residents, providing opportunities to “get outside and touch some grass.”  Mr.O’s gardens, as they became known as, sprouted up around the country and enriched the lives of thousands of elderly people.

Mr. and Mrs. Watson, along with their neighbor, Mr. Ortega, sit on the board of the steering committee for the gardens.

Tales from The Carriage House: Chapter 3

 

The young girl sat with her mother in the bleachers, her shoulders slumped, gazing out over the floor of the auditorium.  She sighed, fingering the silver medal hanging from the ribbon around her neck and said, “I can’t believe I lost to Greg Compton.  Just because he drank the water from distilling his own pee is no reason for him to win.”  She turned to her mother.  “Don’t you think the effect of global warming on the population of butterflies is more important?”

Her mother hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.  Just as she was about to answer, a smartly dressed woman approached with a smile.  “Are you Tess Wilford?” the woman asked warmly, handing Tess a business card.  “My name is Romy Devereaux.  Do you and your mother have a few moments to talk?”

Tess examined the card, her eyes opening wide.  “You’re a lawyer?” she asked nervously.  “I swear, all my work was my own.”

Devereaux shook her head reassuringly, “Oh, I’m not here for anything like that.” Smiling, she pulled a folder from her bag.  “Actually, I’m here to offer you a scholarship.” 

Tess blinked.  “Me?”

The lawyer nodded and looked over her notes as her mother took the folder, “You skipped a grade from elementary to middle school and skipped again going into high school.  You’re in the top one percent of your class, you’ve scored very high in all your aptitude tests, you’re respected and liked by all your teachers, and…” Devereaux’s eyes smiled as she looked up at Tess, “It looks like you just won a medal in the State Science competition.”

With a crooked smile, Tess intoned, “Behind a guy who drank his own pee.”

Mrs. Wilford froze in place as she looked through the packet.  “This…this is a fully paid, four-year scholarship!”

Devereaux responded with a smile.  “There are a few stipulations, of course.  Tess has to maintain good grades…”  Her mother nodded, a stunned look on her face.  “And she has to create a community outreach or charitable program.”

Tess and her mom sat in quiet disbelief until the mother whispered, “How does this happen?”

The lawyer gently placed her hand on her arm, “The Guillory Corporation invests in people, and the future.” She paused.  “Oh, I almost forgot…”  She reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope, “A message for Tess from Charlotte Guillory.”

Tess carefully unfolded the note from the envelope.  The handwritten message read, “Go forth!  Be brave!  Destiny awaits!”

 

After graduating from high school, Tess was safely ensconced at the Carriage House.  Since she was a minor, there were several security protocols put into place to allow her to attend college on her own.  The renovated residence was tucked toward the back of the Sterling estate, giving her both security and independence, under Phoebe’s watchful eye of course.  A cell phone with a tracking device and panic button, gave Tess and her mother more confidence about her safety.

College life was challenging, and living by herself added an extra layer of stress.  Still, Tess was determined to spread her wings and one afternoon decided to take a city bus to the Botanical Gardens.  It didn’t take her long to realize she had boarded the wrong bus, and with panic rising in her chest, she stepped off at the next stop.  In an unfamiliar part of town and with darkness falling, Tess, her hands shaking, reached for her phone and called the number that was simply listed as Help.

“Exchange,” a steady voice answered.

“This is Tess Wilford -” she stammered.

“Are you in danger?”

“No, but I’m lost and… a little scared,” Tess glanced around nervously, her free arm hugging herself.  “I took the wrong bus and panicked, so I got off, and now I’m…”

“Tess,” the speaker said reassuringly, “I’ve got your location, and I’ll have someone there in-” there was the clicking of a computer keyboard, “-less than ten minutes.”

“I was told to call this number if I ever had problems.  I didn’t know who else to call,” her voice was shaking.

“You did the right thing, Tess.” The voice was warm and comforting.  “I’m going to stay on the line with you until…Adam…arrives.”

Tess repeated, “Adam…”

“That’s correct.  He will be driving a black SUV, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket.  He’s going to ask if you’re Tess, and you’re going to reply, one, one.”

“One, one.”

“Perfect, just like that, Tess.  Then he is going to ask you to authenticate and you’re going to say a code word.  What would you like that word to be?”

She thought hard for a moment, then took a deep breath and said, “Caterpillar.”

“You’re doing great,” the voice said gently.  “Adam should be there in a few seconds.”

A pair of headlights appeared from around the corner, and a moment later, a black SUV stopped a few yards away.  A tall man stepped from the vehicle, dressed in jeans and a black jacket, as promised.  He took a quick look up and down the street before his eyes settled on Tess, and in a clear steady voice asked, “Are you Tess?”

She clutched the phone, her voice shaky, “One, one.”

The man nodded with a smile, “Authenticate.”

Relief washed over her.  “Caterpillar,” she replied.

He opened the car door and extended his hand, “I’m Adam.  Let’s get you home.”

She settled into the back seat, leaned against the headrest, and spoke into her phone.  “Thank you so much,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome, Tess.”  The comforting voice from the Exchange paused for a moment then said quietly, “Have a safe trip.  End call.”

Adam turned and smiled at Tess.  “Buckle up.” He started the car and began the journey home.

Finally, Tess was able to relax, knowing that she would be back at the carriage house in a few minutes.  She looked at Adam in the rearview mirror and said, “This adulting stuff is har-”

Her sentence never finished.  There was a blinding rush of headlights, the screaming of tires on the pavement, and the sudden, sickening, sideways lurch from a pickup truck running through the intersection.  Glass exploded, and the sound of the violent ripping of metal tore through her as the SUV crumpled from the impact.

The silence that followed smothered her, until she finally remembered to breathe, taking in a ragged gulp of air.  Something wasn’t right.  There was a taste of blood in her mouth.  Her chest hurt where the seatbelt held her.  She slowly shook her head to clear her thoughts, but it only made the pounding worse.  Confused, she turned toward Adam, questions forming on her lips …but the front of the car was… gone.

Tess blinked once, then twice.  Suddenly, the realization of what had happened swept over her.  Her voice was small, calling out, “Adam?” Fingers fumbling, she unfastened her seatbelt, then slid from the seat, collapsing to her knees on the street.  Several feet in front of her lay the crumpled form of the driver. 

“Adam?” Her voice cracked as she stumbled over to him.  A gash on his neck pulsed slowly, a dark pool of blood forming beneath his head.  His eyes were open, unseeing, staring blankly into the night sky.

“Adam!” Her mind was racing as she knelt next to him, “No, no, no,” she moaned.

Pressure, she remembered.  You’re supposed to put pressure on a cut to stop the bleeding.  Hands shaking, Tess leaned down and pressed her fingers firmly against the wound.  Please don’t die, please don’t die.  Her heart was racing.  With everything that had happened, she felt her strength leaving her, and as she slowly blacked out, all that was left was the wail of the approaching ambulance.

 

A soft beeping slipped into her consciousness.  She wrinkled her brow, trying to focus.  “Where am I?” she murmured.

“Tess?” a calm voice asked.  “You’re in an ambulance.  We’re taking you to the hospital to get you checked out.” 

The soft hum of the tires and the gentle sway of the ambulance helped bring her back.  Tess’s eyes fluttered open to see the warm smile of a young woman sitting to her right.  “I’m Dr. Roberts.  I work for the Exchange.  Can you tell me what happened?”

Tess closed her eyes and tried to remember.  “We were in the car, and someone crashed into us.”  She rubbed her head.  “I tried to find Adam, but he was gone,” her pulse started to race.  “And then I found him, and he was bleeding out.”  She stopped suddenly, her eyes snapping open.  “Where’s Adam?” she cried out.

“I’m right here, Tess,” Adam’s calm voice floated from her other side.

Tess quickly turned her head to see him sitting quietly next to her.  Her voice shook, “You’re okay?”  Incredulous, she turned back to the doctor, “How… how is that possible?”

Dr. Roberts shook her head.  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.  When we got there, there was a large pool of blood under his head.  We thought he had bled out.  You were unconscious, your hand on his neck, but when we looked, well…” 

Adam pulled his bloodstained shirt to the side.  In place of the horrific gash that had been there earlier, now there was a faint discolored line on his neck.  “You did something, Tess.”  His voice was full of wonder and respect, “I was gone.  I was watching from somewhere above and could see you pressing down on my neck, and I heard you say, no, no, no.  Then I was back, and Dr. Roberts was checking us out.”  Adam ran his fingers through his hair.  “I don’t know what you did but thank you.  I’m…okay.”

“I can’t explain it,” the doctor said with a smile, “but I can’t dispute it.”  The ambulance came to a stop, and the doors opened.  “Let’s make sure you’re okay, Tess.”

 

Afterword

After a quiet night under observation, Tess Wilford was released from the hospital with no ill effects nor explanation of the night’s events.

Tess graduated early and for her scholarship project, she created a mobile science lab that crisscrossed rural parts of Texas, bringing microscopes, specimens and hands-on experiments.  She curated her love of butterflies into her lessons and spread the wonder of science in every community she visited.  Afterwards, she would often stop by the local hospitals and clinics to lend a hand, and there were quiet rumors of unexplained healings after she had gone.

Adam experienced no aftereffects of the accident and continued to work for the Exchange.  Nine months after the accident, while on an assignment in Afghanistan, Adam was credited for stopping an attack on a girls’ school, saving the lives of dozens of girls and their teachers.

Dr. Roberts, who had kept in touch with both Tess and Adam, heard about Adam’s heroics and quietly inserted a note into a file.  It read, “Butterfly effect.”