From: lalsoong@sprynet.com (Christine Wirick ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: Paradox Delusion 08/23 Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 18:58:46 GMT Organization: Sprynet News Service Message-Id: <30f08688.1108110@news.sprynet.com> Nntp-Posting-Host: ad70-113.compuserve.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Chapter Eight: Meg pulled into the motel parking lot and after finding the Sheffield's room, pulled into the nearest available spot. For several seconds, she just stared at the door wondering what she was going to say to Lisanne. She couldn't just come right out and ask the woman if her husband was abusing her! I'll start by talking about the house, Meg decided. Her husband probably doesn't tell her anything, and she has a right to now what's going on. She stepped out of the car, and walking up to the door, knocked. Lisanne answered immediately, her expression anxious. "Mrs. Sheffield, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice." "Please, call me Lisanne," the other woman said. "It is really I who should be thanking you." To Meg's surprise, she began crying. "Come inside where it's warm." After she ushered Meg inside, Lisanne grabbed a tissue from off the dresser and wiped her face with it. "I apologize for my outburst." "No need. It's completely understandable." "It's just this whole situation has me on edge," Lisanne explained anyway. "I don't know what to do. I feel so cooped up in this hotel room. I was supposed to have a lovely house to roam around in, with a nice big yard to plant flowers and eventually for kids to play in." Without hesitation, Meg wrapped her arms around Lisanne and patted her reassuringly on the back. "There, there, you let it all out. Don't hold anything back." After a long moment, Lisanne pulled away, and said, "I shouldn't be making you listen to me babble like this." She attempted to wipe her face with the already-used tissue before discarding it. "You came here for a reason. I'm ready to listen to what you have to say now." "Let's sit down first," Meg said, nodding toward the small table with two chairs next to the window. Once they were seated, Meg asked, "Has your husband told you that I'm now staying at the house to help Mr. Marland?" "No, he didn't. That's why I was so surprised when you called me. I wasn't even aware that you were in town. Charles doesn't like to talk about the house--at least not with me. He doesn't tell me much of anything--for my protection." "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't think you should be kept in the dark, not about your own house. Certainly you've heard the saying that forewarned is forearmed? You cannot prepare yourself for anything if you're not aware that it's coming." "Go on then," Lisanne said anxiously. "Tell me what's been happening." "Initially, we thought there were two ghosts present, Karen and Ben Simms. We still believe they are the ones you encountered before contacting me, but now we have reason to believe that others are present as well." "Really!" "We haven't been able to determine how many others yet. We are fairly certain, though, that they are attempting to influence Ben Simms." "You mean, corrupt him?" "Quite possibly." Lisanne mused over this information for a minute. "I don't think I could ever step into that house again. How could you ever assure me that it was no longer haunted?" "I'm afraid that no one can assure you enough if you have doubts," Meg said and placed her hand atop the other woman's anyway. She smiled sweetly at Lisanne. "You will have to find your own faith." "I don't go to church. I don't even follow any particular religion." "Do you believe in God?" "Yes," Lisanne responded, averting her eyes. "I really don't think about it much though. Is that really bad?" "I think you're a good person. Just open your heart to HIM. HE will guide you through this." "I wish I had the strength." "You don't have to go through this alone. I will help you. If you ever want to talk for any reason, I want you to know that I'm available to listen." "I wish Charles was as willing to listen as you are. He thinks he knows what is best for me, but he never gives me a chance to decide for myself. I'm partially to blame for that. I rely on him too heavily." "Have you considered any activities that would take you out of the home? Maybe even a part-time job?" Now Meg decided it was time to divert their conversation to whatever problems Lisanne was having with her husband. When Lisanne didn't answer, Meg added, "I'm sure that living out of a motel the past few weeks hasn't helped your savings." "We can't afford to live here indefinitely. Our bills are already accumulating. If we don't sell our home, we can't afford to buy another one. But who will buy a house if they know it's haunted?" She rubbed at her red eyes, fighting another outburst. "Charles doesn't want me to get a job to help out, though." Meg wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she heard a little contempt in that statement. "Lisanne, what do you want?" "I'm not sure. I've never really given it much thought. Charles has always earned enough money to support both of us, and I've always thought that I would be the one to stay home and take care of the children. But there hasn't been any children." Lisanne turned away to look out the window, fresh tears clouding her red eyes. Watching the other woman, Meg imagined how the other woman's entire life must have been. She most likely never received any real encouragement from her parents or teachers. Meg thought about how she would have turned out if her parents hadn't encouraged and supported her career goals. . .if Lucas hadn't wanted a career woman for a wife. "Stop me if you think I'm being too presumptuous, but I think that right now some sort of job would be perfect for you. You need something to take your mind off your personal troubles, not financial troubles to compound your situation." "I wouldn't know what to do, or even where to look for a job." Lisanne looked back toward Meg, her solemn face showing her determination to remain pessimistic about her situation. "Why would anyone want to hire me? I never went to college, and I don't have any real training." "What are your hobbies? You said something about liking flowers?" Lisanne smiled. "I grew up with flowers. My mom still raises them in a green house and then each spring, she puts up a sign along the side of the road and sells the plants to people. I've learned a lot from her about plants. I wish she weren't so far away." "Well, that's a start. I'm sure there are several flower shops in the area. Maybe one of them is hiring." "Wouldn't make any difference. Charles won't let me get a job. Meg, I really appreciate your concern, but it just isn't going to work." Lisanne crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look stronger than she obviously felt. "Thank you for filling me in on what's happening at the house. I can't say that it makes me any less afraid, but at least I'm no longer sitting alone in this hotel room. . .wondering." "Lisanne, do you love your husband?" "Of course! Do you really think I would have married him if I didn't?" Lots of women marry men they don't love for whatever reason they convince themselves is a good one, but Meg quickly decided that was the wrong thing to say to this woman. "I'm sorry. I should not have asked that question." After a long and awkward stare, Meg added, "I've overstayed my welcome." Lisanne did not stand, so Meg saw herself out the door. Once outside, Meg mumbled, "That could have gone better." Suddenly, she realized she had not learned what she had initially come to find out. Was Charles abusing his wife? She would have to remember Lisanne Sheffield in her prayers tonight. * * * That afternoon, Ray walked by Meg's room and saw her sitting on the edge of her bed, looking at a picture. She had only returned from her visit with Lisanne Sheffield a short while ago, and he had wanted to find out how it went. He thought he saw tears glistening Meg's face and decided to see if she was okay first. Knocking gently on the open door, he asked, "Are you all right?" "I'm fine, really," she replied, lowering the picture to her lap. "It's just that sometimes I really miss my husband." "I didn't take you for married." "I'm a widow." "A widow? At your age?" "Yeah; at my age." He stepped inside the door, sensing that she really needed someone to talk to. "May I sit down?" he asked, gesturing toward a desk chair. She nodded and he pulled it out and sat down. "I won't pry if you'd rather keep what's bothering you a secret." "That's all right. I think it will help me to talk about it." She looked down at the picture and touched the young man's face with her fingertips. "Luke was a member of the Delta Force. He was killed in a rescue attempt in Iran in 1983. His helicopter was gunned down." "So you've been a widow for nine years already." "Just about. We'd been married for three years at the time. We met in 1979 during Desert One. I had just finished my bachelor's degree in journalism and was on my first assignment. Luke was among the first of the young men to join the newly-formed Delta Force. He was damn proud to serve his country, and he planned to make a full career out of it. I supported him all the way. We had plans to see the world together. We figured wherever he was stationed, I could find freelance assignments. I never thought I would end up with a permanent residence in Atlanta." "It sounds like you loved your husband and were fully dedicated to him. But, there's something else bothering you, isn't there? A six-year old wound doesn't just spontaneously open up without a little salt added to the mix." "You're so perceptive, Raymond," Meg answered with an appreciative smile. She stood and placed the picture in the top dresser drawer. Turning around to face him, she said, "Did Sam tell you that I went to visit Lisanne Sheffield today?" "Yes, he did. How did that go?" "Not as well as I had hoped. I guess I was really expecting too much. Lisanne doesn't know me. Why would she want to tell a relative stranger all her deep dark secrets? Still--" Meg lowered her head. "I feel so frustrated that I couldn't do more for her. How do you help someone who doesn't seem to want to be helped?" "That's a tough call. Give it time. She may trust you yet." Meg smiled warmly at him. "You seem to know the right thing to say." * * * Al returned to check on Sam and found the time traveler far more relaxed than he had been that morning. "Run a history check on Meg Miller," Beckett requested. "I want to trust her, but I need to now that she's legit before we divulge too much information to her." Calavicci jabbed his cigar toward his friend. "Good thinking, Sam." He consulted with Ziggy for a moment, reading the information coming across his handlink without sharing it with Sam. He stared reticently at the handlink for a long moment. "Al, what is it?" Beckett asked impatiently. "Her husband was Delta Force," Al finally said. "He died during a rescue attempt in Iran. . . .Sam, in effect that makes her a war widow." "Do you still think that Matthew Wayneright doesn't tie in with this leap? The war connections keep growing stronger and stronger." "I'll see if Ziggy can't obtain a little more information on Matthew," Al conceded before popping out. Sam decided he needed to talk with Meg. Although it was protocol to have Al check on people his leap hosts interacted with, he felt as if he was intruding on Meg's personal domain. Perhaps it was because she knew who he really was. Whatever the reason, he felt he had to let her know that he was aware that she was a widow. He knocked lightly on her open door, pushing it slightly forward by the force. He noticed Raymond sitting on her desk chair. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said. "Not at all," she replied. Raymond stood saying, "I'll leave you two alone so you can talk in private." He turned sideways to get past Beckett. "Excuse me. "I wanted to talk with you about my visit with Lisanne anyway, Sam," Meg said. "Come on inside. Have a seat." After he was comfortable in the chair Raymond had just vacated, Meg continued. "I tried to talk her into finding a job. It would not only help their financial situation, but it would build her self-confidence as well. Charles will not let her get a job. Come on, this is the nineties! It is so frustrating to try to help someone too afraid to take your help." "I'm sorry it went so badly. Did you get any proof one way or the other of spousal abuse?" "No. I couldn't just come right out and ask her. I was hoping she would give me some kind of hint that she wanted to talk about it." "You did your best." He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she leaned over and hugged him. After she released her grip, he said, "The reason I needed to talk with you is because I feel obligated to let you know I had Al run a check on your history. I know what happened to your husband." "I see," she responded, momentarily taken aback. "I understand why you felt it necessary. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same thing in your shoes. Still. . .it feels odd. You have the ability to check on my past, but I have no way of verifying yours." "I'll do my best to earn your trust." She smiled and squeezing his arm, said, "Telling me that you know about my husband, Luke, is a good start. You're a lot like him, you know--more concerned with helping other people than yourself."