With Regrets
by Darby Ross

This is in response to a challenge thrown out...oh almost a year ago now.  Talk about procrastinating.  Anyway, my recent trip to Chicago, especially my time on Michigan Avenue Bridge and getting to see the Blackstone in person helped me to get this story organized and finished.

As always, I do not own any EE characters, they belong to all those network knotheads that don't know what to do with them :(

 I am not making any profit off  this story, nor do I intend to at a future date.  This is purely for enjoyment. At least I hope you enjoy it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
With Regrets 
by Darby Ross
Chapter One
********************

His conscience came awake before his eyes opened. He had long ago stopped setting the alarm. The cat's meow, followed by the *thump* of a newspaper, was enough of a wake up call.

Slowly he opened his eyes and sighed--another day was beginning. He was old and he was tired. His body ached as he struggled to sit up. Each morning it was harder than the day before.

After managing to sit up, he slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment--rubbing his eyes, coming fully awake before he stood up.

As he stood, he placed his hand on the wall to steady himself for a second, when he heard the all too familiar sound.

"Meow!" *thump*

Tomorrow's newspaper--today. He took an unsteady step, then seemed to gain his strength as each step toward the door became more even and sure.

He opened the door to once again find *his* cat sat perched upon the paper.

"You couldn't hand that up to me could you?" he asked.

The cat ran past him into the kitchenette area where he waited to be fed.

"I didn't think so."

Knees popped and every muscle protested as he bent over to retrieve the paper.

"I'm too old to still be doing this," he muttered, as he shut the door and made his way into the kitchen where he placed the paper on the table. The cat rubbed against his leg and meowed up at him.

"What'll it be this morning? Tuna, turkey or chicken?"

"Meow!!"

"Chicken? Then chicken it is," he replied as he opened a can of food and dumped it into the cat's dish.

He then filled the coffee pot with water and three scoops of coffee before turning it on to perk.

He stepped around the cat as he picked up the paper off the table and sat down. He ran his hand over his head, stopping to scratch the crown.

"What have you got for me today?" he said aloud, to no one in particular.

He raised an eyebrow as the first page revealed no catastrophes. He made it through several pages and still nothing that required his attention.

He got up and poured a cup of coffee and added a heavy serving of cream  He shook his head--he didn't feel quite right this morning.

"Meow!" The cat looked up at him.

"So, do you think after 40 some odd years, I'm getting a day off? It's about time."

He sat back down and took a drink of his coffee. Setting the cup down, he picked up the paper and continued to pour over the pages. Nothing--not a thing for him to take care of today. Now what? He had no idea how to spend his day. He laid the paper back down and took another drink of his coffee.

The pages of the paper began to move--as if blown by a breeze. Only the window wasn't open. The pages fluttered open one at a time before they stopped.

He was not bothered by the occurrence--it had happened to him many times before.

"Figures. Couldn't hope for a day off after all this ti..........me," his voice trailed off as he spotted the article he had missed earlier. Slowly he picked up the paper.

Not much of an article, just a few lines at the bottom--added, as if it were an after thought.

Well, what did he expect? An obituary fit for a hero? After all he was just a lonely old man who had never asked for recognition or glory from his saves.

"Lucius Snow, 76, long time resident of Chicago, passed away yesterday evening in his room at the Blackstone Hotel on Michigan Ave. A former typesetter for the Sun-Times, he retired in 1984."

The cat jumped onto his lap and placed his front paws on Snow's chest. Snow looked down into the green eyes of this cat who had been his companion for so many years.

"So, this is it buddy? Today is the day I die."

"Meow."

Tenderly Snow stroked the cat's fur. "Well, I can't say I haven't had an exciting life. I've done a lot of good and of that I am proud. I just wish I wasn't leaving this world with only you to miss me."

He paused, irritated that his voice was beginning to quiver.

"I made a choice a long time ago and well, if I leave this world with regrets--it's my own damn fault."


Chapter Two
********************

Snow set two boxes on his bed before taking the lid off of one. He had been saving--collecting the contents of these boxes for many years now. Now he knew what he needed to do with them. His time was drawing to a close, but there was someone out there, someone who had been chosen to take his place. One day he would need these boxes and the contents within.

He hadn't looked through them in a while, so he rummaged through the items one last time. There were some photo copies he had made of a few of the headlines before they had changed--or before he had changed them. An explosion at the Sears Tower, a ferry sinking and eleven year old Indiana boy killed.

Snow sat down on the bed as he looked at the last article. He hadn't thought of Gary Hobson in a long time. He remembered back to the day he had saved the boy from getting run over in 1976. Something had told him then, that this child would be the next to receive the paper. He wondered if this Gary Hobson had held onto the key he had given him. Hopefully, over the years he would find all the messages he had left behind for him.

With all his heart, Snow wanted his last save to be Gary Hobson. He wanted to save him from the same lonely life Snow, himself, had experienced.

Snow wondered what was going to happen to young Hobson that would cause him to begin receiving the paper. Was it just because his life was over,
or would something happen--something like what had caused him to get the paper all those years ago?

~*~*~

He looked out the window of the train and saw the crowd of people gathered on the platform. Excitement was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The war was over and soldiers were coming home.

As he made his way off the train, he witnessed lovers reunited, mothers and fathers hugging their sons and sisters crying.

He searched the crowd for JoAnn, but she wasn't there. Anxious to see her, he hailed a cab and hurried to her home. Only stopping long enough to buy a bouquet of yellow daisies--her favorite.   It had been so long since he'd seen her or heard from her. He had moved around so much the last few months, he was sure her letters would never find him.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he walked up the steps of her porch. He set his duffel bag down and took a deep breath before walking over to the door and knocking.

He was peering through the screen, his hand shading his eyes, to see if he could see anyone, when he heard wood creak. And that is when he saw her descending the stairs. His breath caught and he straightened himself quickly and grabbed his hat off his head. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

"Lou...I..I wasn't expecting you," she stammered.

"You didn't get my letter?"

She pushed the screen door open and stepped out, onto the porch, where the sunlight reflected off her blond hair.

"These are for you," he said as he held out the bouquet.

She didn't take them, only tried to pull her sweater closed, but it wouldn't reach.

He stared down at her hands that were resting on her abdomen.

"Lou, I'm so sorry. I should have told you, written you...but I didn't know how....what to say."

He blinked rapidly as he raised his eyes to meet hers. Those blue eyes he had dreamt of for so long.

She was pregnant and she was wearing a gold band. Stunned, he took a step backwards.

"Lou? I..I didn't know if you would make it back. I was so....lonely,"she tried to explain, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.

He took another step back.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with him....I never meant.....never wanted to hurt you."

Snow looked down at the flowers in his hand, then dropped them on the porch swing.

"Good-bye JoAnn," he said before turning and picking up his bag and making his way down the steps.

"Lou!!" she called after him. "I'm so sorry!"

~*~*~*

Snow wondered what had ever happened to JoAnn. Their paths had never crossed after that day. He had grieved over her--probably had never gotten over the way she broke his heart.

He had thought of her over the years and wondered if she'd had a good life. It was probably just as well, she was part of his past and little did he know at the time that the next day would change his life forever.



Chapter Three
***********************

The cat jumped up on the bed. "Meow!"

Snow scratched the cat's head as he remembered the first time he had seen this cat.

~*~*~

He heard a cat's meow, followed by a thump. Snow grumbled as he rolled over in bed and covered his head with a pillow. He was still hung over from the night before. He thought he would be able to drown his sorrows in a bottle of the best whiskey money could buy. It hadn't worked.

"Meow!....... Meow!"

Snow threw back the covers and stood up quickly. Mistake--the room swayed and he sat back down with a thud and a squeak on the bed.

"Meow!"

"Damn cat!" he swore as he got up, slower this time, and made his way to the door and yanked it open.

He caught a glimpse of an orange tabby cat as it ran past him into his room.

"Hey! Come back here," he called after the cat.

He noticed a paper and picked it up before closing the door.  

"Hey, cat? Where are you? Come on. You can't stay," Snow stated as he bent to look under a table. The room spun on him and he sat down on the floor, placing the paper next to him before resting his head in his hands.

"Meow?"

The cat rubbed up against him.

"Do you think you've found a new home?"

"Meow."

Snow raised his head to look at the cat. "Surely you belong to someone. How else could you have got in the building?"

The cat raised his paw and softly touched Snow's arm. "Meow."

He sighed. "Well, if you don't belong to anyone...I guess I could use the company. This place is kinda lonely."

He pulled the paper from underneath the cat and glanced through it. He stopped at the help wanted ads and noticed his old job as typesetter was available.

He groaned as he tried to stand up.

"Better get on with this business of living," he mumbled to himself.

He got cleaned up and after stopping for breakfast, headed down to the newspaper office.

"I'm here about the job for typesetter," he informed the receptionist.

"Typesetter? You must be able to foresee the future. One of the typesetters just gave notice today," she informed him.

"Lucky for me," Snow replied.

The next morning, the cat arrived again with the paper.

Snow frowned. "Whose paper are you swiping? Don't do it any more. You hear me?" he said as he dropped the paper in the waste basket without looking at it.

"Your food is in the kitchen," he informed the cat.

Once again, the next day, the cat arrived with the paper. Snow picked it up and before he could scold the cat, realized that the headlines in this paper were different than the ones he had set the night before.  

"What the....?" he muttered as he looked at the date. Tomorrow's date. He scratched his head, puzzled. Who would do this and why?

That night as he worked setting the type for the next day's paper, he began to recognize articles that had been in his paper that morning. How could that be?

The next morning, the paper arrived. Once again with tomorrow's date. Was this some kind of practical joke? Or was it for real? He decided to find out.

He was standing across the street from the Murdock Warehouse where, according to the paper, a fire would level the building. To his amazement, smoke began to roll out of the top floor windows, just like the article stated. Snow ran to the nearest phone booth and called the Fire Department. He hung up the phone and looked at the paper again. The headline had changed from 'Murdock Warehouse Levelled in Blaze' to 'Murdock Warehouse Fire Contained in Time'.


Chapter Four
**************

That feeling of light headedness swept through Lucius Snow once again. He waited for it to pass, then he stood up and returned the items to the box and replaced the lid. Time was passing quickly and there were things he needed to do--to do before his time came.

He donned his trench coat and hat and picked up the two boxes and carried them to the door. He set them down and opened the door, then scooted the boxes into the hallway with his foot, before closing the door behind him.

He made his way down to the street where he hailed a cab. He set his boxes inside before climbing in himself and giving the driver an address to a storage company.

After he had rented the storage room for the boxes and paid in full for 44 months, all the money he had--save for a few dollars for dinner and a cab ride home, he took a walk.

The city certainly had grown since he first moved to town, but all the changes and advancements in this city made him love it all the more. It was his city. His home, and he would miss her.

He soon found himself on the Michigan Avenue bridge overlooking the river, the Sun-Times in the foreground.

He had waited too long before he realized he could have a life with the paper. He had his chances over the years and now that he looked back, he realized the paper--or whoever sent it--had tried to allow him to have a life.

Fear, that was it, the only thing that kept him from having the things he wanted. Fear of losing everything all over again. And now as he stood here, surrounded by the majestic architecture of this city and all her people, he was alone. He had made his choice and he had lived with it, now he would die with the choices he made. And now he regretted those choices. He certainly hoped young Hobson never regretted any of the choices he made.

The breeze off the river was chilly and he pulled his coat close around him as he made his way to his favorite diner.

After the waitress brought his food, he bowed his head and said Grace over his last meal. He sighed heavily. Yes, he had regrets about personal decisions he had made, but he had made a difference in this city. Even if most people didn't realize that. He had served a higher purpose in life and that he never regretted. He was tired now, ready to hand over the reigns to someone younger and more capable.   He was ready to meet his maker.

When he finished eating, he paid his bill and dropped the last of the money on the table for a tip, deciding to walk the rest of the way back to the Blackstone.

As he entered the lobby, a young man at the registration desk caught his attention.

"What's the name?" the clerk asked.

"Hobson. Gary Hobson."

So here was Hobson. It had already begun for him. Snow squinted his eyes as he looked Hobson over. He looked frazzled, his eyes didn't seem to focus on anything. The poor man looked like he was in shock. He held tightly to a suitcase that had clothing sticking out of the seams.

Snow wondered what event had transpired to bring Hobson here. To this place. To his destiny.

"Damn!" he muttered as he felt light headed again and braced himself against the wall.

"Mr. Snow? Are you alright?" Boswell asked, appearing from out of nowhere.

"Yes. Thank you, Boswell. I'm just a little winded from my walk," Snow stated before making his way slowly toward the elevator.

He pressed the button and as he waited, he looked back at Hobson. Snow saw him run his hand across the back of his neck and glance absentmindedly around the lobby. He had no idea what kind of a turn his life was about to take.

The door to the elevator opened and Snow stepped inside and rode it up to his floor, where he got off and walked down the long hall to his room.

He took off his hat and coat and laid them neatly on the chair, then he went to the kitchen and opened a can of cat food and fed the cat, washed the dishes and stacked them neatly in the drain. He sat down at the kitchen table and wrote out a note asking for his clothing and food to be donated to a homeless shelter.

He didn't own anything of value, not one piece of furniture in this apartment was his. It all came with the room. He got up and dug around in a drawer till he found the copy of his burial policy and placed it with the note on the table.

Daylight was fading as he stepped out onto the patio and watched the sun set over the lake and the lights of the city begin to twinkle against the dark blue sky. He closed his eyes and savored the sound of the El rumbling along the track, the sound of car horns honking and the hustle and bustle of the city below.

"Take good care of her Gary Hobson. Take good care of her," he whispered into the breeze.

He took one last look before he went back inside and laid down on his bed.

He crossed his hands across his stomach and closed his eyes, his breathing even. Cat jumped onto the bed and curled up next to him.

*~*

Gary settled his things into his new room.

Settled--meaning he opened the suitcase that he had placed on a chair.

He walked over to a window and placed his elbow on the frame and rested his forehead on his hand. The last of the day's sun was reflecting on the lake.

What had he done wrong? Deep down he'd known this was coming. That was why he had made the extra effort to get groceries to fix Marcia dinner for their anniversary. A case of too little too late--maybe.

He loved Marcia. At least he thought he did. He'd certainly never felt the rush and excitement he had expected when he fell in love. Marrying her had just kind of happened.

He ran his hand over his face and wondered if he would ever feel that rush or the kind of completeness one would feel when they were with their soul mate.

"What now?" he mumbled out loud. "What do I do next?"

*~*

There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Snow?" Boswell called out. No answer. "Mr. Snow?" he called again.

Boswell was very concerned now. When he had seen Snow earlier, he had looked very pale and not in good health at all. Before going off duty he decided to check on the old man. He didn't know why he felt so compelled to do so. He pulled out his master key and entered the room.

He looked around, the room was spotless. He narrowed his eyes as he spotted Snow lying on the bed. For all appearances he seemed to be sleeping. Boswell walked closer to the bed and turned on a lamp. He softly placed his fingers on Snow's neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

He picked up the phone and dialed the main desk. "Call an ambulance," he instructed, even though he knew it was too late.

"Meow!"

Boswell looked up to see Snow's long time companion, his orange tabby cat, sitting on a chair in the corner.

"Looks like we'll have to find you a new owner, fella."

Cat jumped down off the chair and trotted across the floor. He stopped for a second and looked back at the bed before continuing on, down the hall, down the stairs, to finally rest in front of room 67.

~The End~

Email the author:   darbyross@webtv.net
  
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