... continuing from the previous chapters ...
Chapter 27
Road Trip - Idaho
My Army buddy, Craig Olson, welcomed me to his home in Coeur d'Alene with a big hug and much backslapping. I had contacted him weeks earlier about visiting and emailed him with updates about my travel and arrival dates. I called ahead from Montana to let him know I'd be arriving around seven in the evening after riding hard all day from Montana.
Craig helped me unload my motorcycle and move my things into his guest room. He had a town house in a nice area of town; later I'd learn that all the areas of town were nice. I scrubbed up, and we went out for dinner.
Like some of my other Army contemporaries, he mustered out about the same time I did. He'd had three tours of duty as a Green Beret. My last tour got cut short a few months due by to a knee injury. Over dinner, we caught up with a decade's worth of experiences since we'd last seen each other face-to-face. Craig had moved to Idaho, married, divorced, and worked in the offices of a mining company. He'd been single the past four years, and in high demand on the local social circuit - what there was of it, as he put it. He'd been an outdoorsman growing up, so the area was ideal for his hobbies.
Craig stood six feet four, and had a demeanor that commanded respect. That said, he had a 'Gentle Ben' air about him that had always appealed to women. In the Army, he'd acquired the nickname 'Boom' - he was our explosives expert, and that was one reason the mining company had hired him; he was exceptionally creative in using explosives and managed to do things with them few others could. Although he had an office job, he consulted to the field a lot as a sideline to his normal job.
I took a little longer to update Craig. Most of the ten years I'd been doing the same thing, year after year: computer systems development and web site design. He knew Karen has died, and commiserated with me. He also knew about my burgeoning music career and my motorcycle road trip. Craig looked impressed, as I told him about being a celebrity. I shifted and told him about one downside of being a celebrity - being stalked by the paparazzi. I told him briefly about Bart Kenesis, the Branson photos, being stalked, vandalized, and shot at, and giving the paparazzo the slip in Montana. Craig listened with concern.
After I told Craig the gist of the Kenesis story, he helped me by asking some insightful questions. I told him about Tama - the shaman, and her visions, and how she 'saw' Kenesis as a physical threat to me. I told him about hiring a private detective to research the man, and find out how to get under his skin if I had to. After I had finished, Craig affirmed he was sure I'd have further confrontations with Kenesis. The lone bullet that hit a wall near where I stood in Utah worried him a great deal. He said, "You can count on me if you need help with this snake. I'll go anywhere to back you up if you decide to go head to head with this guy."
I knew Craig was sincere, as would be George and a couple of dozen others who had been 'brothers' in the same Army Special Operations unit. We went through a lot together in strange lands, and we stopped many senseless killings and genocides, and saved the free world more than once. Most of us got too old to continue in that line of work, so we mustered out and wisely left the tougher missions to 'kids' a decade or more younger, more skilled, and in better shape than we were.
Craig thought for a minute and suggested an idea that would grow in my mind; "Jim, you might think of putting yourself back out there in public again so that Kenesis can get on your tail again. This time, however, I'll bring a few of the old unit along to set the guy straight - to get him out of your hair once and for all." I told him I would consider that seriously.
We called it a night after dinner. Craig had to work the following day, and I wanted to write some long emails and planned to make some telephone calls the next day. I missed Crystal and wanted to check in with her and make sure she was OK.
Just before he disappeared into his bedroom for the night, Craig got a humorous look on his face; he said, "By the way, tomorrow afternoon and evening I may have a little surprise for you." He turned and shut his door. I was left to wonder what kind of surprise he'd put together.
* * * * *
In the morning, I took a long run that took me to the City Park and Beach. I'd brought with me a small envelope of Karen's ashes. The beach was deserted, no doubt because of the freezing temperature. I allowed Karen's ashes to fly in a small dust cloud across the large lake. Even in the city, mountains surrounded the entire area and made the spot picturesque. Karen had liked mountains and small cities. If she'd lived, we probably might have moved to somewhere like this once we had children. Tears came to my eyes this time when I thought of her and the children we might have had together; I hadn't cried about her for several weeks. After the sadness passed, I sat at the edge of the water and meditated until sitting still in the cold became a distraction.
Back at Craig's home, I dashed off some emails, including one to Mils Cartwright, my private detective friend, giving her an update on Bart Kenesis and how we'd sent him in the wrong direction in Montana after we talked to her about what to do about the tracking device. I'd seen no sign of him since Livingston, Montana. I told Mils I'd telephone her after lunch.
Then, I called Crystal to update her on Bart Kenesis. I still worried deeply about having been shot at, and I'd have put money on the fact that the shot came from the perverted photographer. I told how I'd discovered the tracking device on the motorcycle, and how we'd sent the device one way while I went another. I warned her that since he no longer knew where I was, he might return to Nashville and start stalking her again.
Crystal and I talked about my impromptu visit to a Montana ranch in a snowstorm where I met Jillian and her three daughters. Crystal was one of five women who loved to hear about my sexual exploits, and obtained a lot of sexual gratification from thinking about them and egging me on. They were all as horny as I was. When I sent them lurid emails, I'd often get replies suggesting new things to try the 'next time' or asking for more details. In my calls to Lauren and Crystal, I elaborated on meeting three other motorcyclists in Wyoming, spending a few days in their lodge, and attending the Erotic Halloween Costume Party. I described the costumes, and lack thereof, in detail, described the open and permissive atmosphere as the night went on, and told of how creative Todd, Eve, Lil, and I had been about delivering sexual pleasure to one another as well as sharing ourselves at the party.
Anna now routinely received my explicit X-rated emails. I couldn't be sure, but I'd sent her enough of my erotic 'progress reports' that I was sure I would have received a rebuke from her if she wanted them to stop. The emails I did get from Anna never mentioned my exploits or my emails, only updated me on her life and for a few weeks some questions about selling our parent's home. From a statement here and there, it was clear that she'd read them; she just didn't comment on them. More likely, as emails about my sexual situations got more graphic, I assumed her silence was her tacit approval and that she wanted to hear exactly what I was doing. Thus, I became more graphic and detailed. Because of the Halloween party, this email might be over the top; well, except maybe for sharing with her my exploits in Oklahoma.
I had a growing desire to see Anna, and end my road trip. What I missed most of all was a sense of home. I'd given up the Cambridge apartment that Karen and I had lived in. After living in it a few months, I'd put my parent's home on the real estate market and the house sold a couple of months later. I didn't have a home except maybe for the tent on the back of my motorcycle. That was both good and bad - I liked having no burdens but was concerned about my lack of roots and permanency. I'd become a vagabond with no compelling idea on what I'd do after my trip ended. I'd started to think about that. The logical thing to do would be to follow the country music career and see where that took me. I'd had enough time on the road that traveling didn't hold the fascination for me that it once had. I was in my mid to late thirties, and it was time to decide what to do with the rest of my life - my new life.
