On June 16, a warm and muggy day in the city of Chicago, a hero was lost.

   The save should have been so simple — the newspaper told of a young woman who climbed up on the roof of an old building to get better reception on her cell phone. After finishing the call, she leaned against the railing, which gave way. She fell to the concrete below and broke her neck.

   It looked to be such a simple save, in fact, that Gary took his 18-year-old daughter, Arianna, with him. She was standing below, watching her father in action as she had so many times before, innocently unaware that this save was going to be his last.

   It seemed fitting that Gary Hobson should die as he had lived, always putting others first. The young woman who would have fallen and been paralyzed was saved; Gary managed to get her away from the edge before he lost his balance and went through the railing himself.

   It hadn’t been all that far down, really; maybe twenty-five feet. Arianna had managed to hold out hope that he was all right, but only until she ran over and saw him. Without looking at the headline in the paper still clutched in his hand, Arianna knew that her father was dying.

   He had not spoken; once he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came and he closed it again, his eyes fastened on Arianna’s face. He looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered. Arianna had never known so much love could be communicated wordlessly, in a simple gaze.

   Afterward, she could never quite pinpoint the exact second when the light left his eyes and she knew he was gone. She sat with him for what seemed like forever, holding tightly to his hand and staring into the beautiful mud-green eyes, as if she could somehow bring him back by the sheer force of her will. Someone finally pried free Arianna’s hand and led her away, but not before she had taken the paper from her father’s cold hand. It was the last paper she would see; all was up to Lindsay now.

   The days that followed had seemed unendurable at times; Arianna was unable to imagine living the rest of her life without her father. She missed the familiar scent of him, the smell of cinnamon chewing gum and Old Spice. She missed his stutter, his shy smile, his habit of whipping the paper out of his back pocket and glancing at his watch to see how much time he had.

   She hated the paper and the cat — oh, how she hated them. Cat wisely stayed away, probably knowing, with his odd feline ESP, that he would be turned into mincemeat if he dared venture near.

   Worst of all was when Arianna dreamed about him, dreams that were so hauntingly real that she could hear his laughter and touch his face. Dreams so real that, when she awakened, her arms were still stretched out to hold him. She would cry afterward, cry until her eyes swelled shut and her head pounded.

   It was hard for Marissa and Chuck, too; Arianna had lost her father, but they had lost a dear friend, a man who had been a central part of their lives for so many years. Arianna was so much like her father — she had his eyes, his faint southern accent, his stutter, his mannerisms — that sometimes just seeing or hearing her was enough to set them off.

   On a completely ordinary day nearly three weeks after Gary’s death, Arianna — the bar’s new owner now that her father was gone — was helping Marissa with some paperwork when the blind woman made a confusing comment. Moments later she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Arianna was confused, until she realized she had asked “Howzat?” in the exact tone of voice Gary had always used. Marissa soon had company. It must have been unnerving for potential customers to see two women standing over paperwork and crying uncontrollably, but neither woman cared.

   Gradually, over time, Arianna’s bitter hatred toward the paper faded. She was still angry at times, but she realized that her father had made a choice and that he had known the risks when he did.

   Lindsay did well with the paper; Arianna kept in touch and even helped out occasionally, after she stopped hating everything involved with the paper. Lindsay’s grief at the death of Gary Hobson had been genuine; she’d looked up to and admired the soft-spoken man with the muddy green eyes. She confided in Arianna that she often wished Gary was there to tell her what she should do.

   For nearly three months after Gary’s death, Lindsay handled the paper well, earning a wistful smile from Arianna Hobson and the comment, “Daddy would have been proud of you, Lindsay.”

   In October, when the skies were turning gray with the clouds of fall and icy winds were blowing in from the north, everything changed. Lindsay called the police about the impending bank robbery, using a Gary-style indecipherable story about how her cousin knows this guy who heard these guys talking, but the CPD was already familiar with her and her bizarre stories and excuses. When Lindsay hung up the phone, nothing had changed.

   “Damn,” She muttered under her breath; this was a little over her head, not the type of thing she wanted to get involved with, but she had no choice. Someone would be killed in the robbery — a small child, a little five-year-old boy. Lindsay felt like a swarm of butterflies had gathered in her stomach, but she knew she couldn’t allow the child to die. Gary wouldn’t have.

   She even tried to convince bank security; no one would listen to her, and they were in fact escorting her out the door when the man in the black mask burst inside, brandishing a gun and shouting, “Nobody move! I’ll kill you, I damn sure will!”

   Lindsay spotted the little boy, the robber’s eventual target, immediately; he was the only child in the bank. Pale-faced and frightened, the tow-headed child clung to his mother’s leg and whimpered. The thief heard the pitiful sound and turned toward the mother and child.

   “You think I won’t kill you? Huh?” He asked the terrified woman, who clung to her little boy and sat frozen, not replying. The thief raised his gun and pointed it toward the frightened child. “You wanna see how willing I am to kill somebody? Do you?”

   The mother mutely shook her head, clinging to her child. Lindsay could see the robber’s empty eyes from where she stood, just to the side, and she knew what was going to happen.

   God, help me, Lindsay thought numbly, and jumped in front of the little boy, hands out in front of her. “No!” She shouted. “Don’t do it!”

   Things happened very fast then; while the robber was distracted by Lindsay’s sudden move, the security guard came up behind him and struck him over the head, then wrestled the gun away from him, but not before a shot had been fired. The little boy and his mother were fine; Lindsay was facedown on the floor in a growing pool of blood. The bullet had struck her in the neck, severing her jugular and killing her almost instantly. She only had time to think, No, and then she was gone.

   Arianna received a phone call from the police within a half-hour; Lindsay had had the number to McGinty’s in her purse, and they didn’t know who else to call. Arianna was outwardly calm when she heard the news, but immediately after hanging up the phone she collapsed, unable to handle any more strain, any more grief, any more pain.

   Marissa and Casey, the bar manager, got Arianna upstairs and into bed, where she fell asleep almost immediately, in shock and too dazed to remember what had happened or where she was.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   Thump.

   “Meow!”

   “Let me sleep for a little while,” Arianna mumbled, pulling the covers over her head. “I won’t be late for school.” When the cat began to meow again, she raised her voice a little. “Daddy, aren’t you going to get the paper?”

   When there was no answer, Arianna’s eyes flew open and reality flooded back in. Her father wasn’t there, of course; for a second, just a split second when she was between sleep and wakefulness, it seemed that she had sensed his presence, as if he was standing nearby. A lump formed in Arianna’s throat and she stared despondently at the closet, where Gary’s black leather jacket still hung as if waiting for him to come back.

   Lindsay is dead. Memory of the previous night came flooding in, and Arianna covered her eyes with her hands. “Why?” She whispered hoarsely. “Why? You took away Daddy. Why Lindsay too? She was so young, just beginning to live. She hadn’t even picked a successor, damn it!”

   How cruel that she would dream of the cat now, the morning after Lindsay’s tragic and unexpected death. Arianna forced herself to climb out of bed; she was already getting a headache and it wasn’t even 7 AM yet. Lindsay’s death still seemed unreal. It was all so — so unfair!

   “Meow.”

   Arianna froze in mid-step, her eyes going to the door. No, God, no, please. Please let me be hallucinating.

   “Meow!” More persistent this time.

   It was no hallucination; the cat was there, along with the newspaper and another small object. Arianna picked it up, her hands shaking. It was a small pocket knife, and on it was carved the initials “A.H.”

   Arianna started sobbing, dry, painful sobs that sounded like hiccups. She threw the knife across the room, breaking a vase, and shouted, “I can’t do this! You can’t do this to me! Why? God, why? This took away everyone I loved. I can’t do this! Not now!”

   The cat meowed a concerned-sounding meow. He was looking at Arianna out of his too-intelligent eyes.

   “Go away!” She screamed. “I hate you! Go away. You can ... not ... do ... this ... to ... me! I can’t handle it!”

   Hands over her face, she sank to the floor, her entire body shaking. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no ...

   Someone was shaking her, a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and managed in a weak croak, “Go away. I can’t do this. I can’t!”

   “Ari, what’s wrong? You can’t do what?” The voice was familiar. Very familiar.

   Arianna’s eyes flew open and stared up into the concerned face of ... her father. He looked worried and confused. “Were you having a dream?”

   “A ... a dream?” Arianna struggled to get her thoughts together, to make sense of what was happening. It was her father, but it couldn’t be — she had seen him die right in front of her. She had held his hand as he breathed his last.

   “I, I just, I thought maybe you were having a dream because you, you seemed upset.” How Arianna loved that voice, that stutter. She inhaled the scent of cinnamon chewing gum and realized that this was no dream — he was here. He was really here!

   Gary Hobson rather suddenly found himself lying on the floor with his daughter on top of him, her arms around his neck. She never said a word, just held on as if she would never let go of him again.

   “Uh, Arianna?” Gary asked mildly, his tone one of puzzlement. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?” There was no response, and he could feel Arianna’s body start shaking slightly. It was with surprise that he realized she was crying.

   Gently, Gary put his arms around his daughter and let her cry. When she began to calm down a little, he commented, “That must have been some dream.”

   “You died,” Arianna whispered, her voice very hoarse, as if she’d been screaming. “You died and it ... it was so real! I helped Lindsay with the paper and then she, she died too and I got the paper with a knife ... ” A sob, followed by a hiccup. “And I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t, I hated it so much ... ”

   Gary had absolutely no idea what to say. “Good thing it was just a, I mean, I’m sorry it upset you, but, I mean, at least it wasn’t — ”

   “Real life?” Arianna sniffled and wiped at her eyes, finally releasing her stranglehold on her father. “It seemed so very real. I mean, I, I would have sworn it was real.”

   “Well, it wasn’t.” Gary gave his daughter a reassuring hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m right here, and you can call up Lindsay and talk to her if you want. We’re both just fine.”

   Arianna’s eyes strayed to the clock; it was 7:38 AM. “I overslept,” She croaked, feeling slightly ashamed of her reaction to a dream — was it a dream? She could remember every detail so clearly. Far too clearly in her opinion.

   “Yeah.” Gary nodded; for the first time, she noticed that he was fully dressed, brown jacket and all. “I woke you up to tell you I had to go. I’ve got an errand.” His tone of voice left no doubt what the ‘errand’ was.

   Arianna stared at him, feeling an eerie sense of déja vù. “What errand? Let me see.” She reached out for the paper. Gary pointed to the article and was completely unprepared for his daughter’s reaction.

   “Woman Paralyzed in Fall: 27-year-old Tracie Fields was in critical condition Tuesday after she fell from ... ”

   Arianna had seen more than enough. Looking up at her father, she uttered one word: “No!”

   “Huh?” Gary looked dumbfounded. “Howzat? Wh-what do you mean, ‘No’? You want me to let that lady get paralyzed?”

   “You can’t go,” Arianna replied firmly. Sudden inspiration struck. “Let me go. I can handle this one.” She jumped out of bed and started rummaging around for blue jeans and a flannel shirt.

   “But, but, but ... ” Gary was left with that familiar wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights look. “Wh-why do you want this save, Arianna? It could be dangerous. I mean, it says right there that the railing is unsturdy and — ”

   “I know. That’s why I want this save.” Arianna emerged from the bathroom in minutes; she hadn’t even brushed her hair, which was very unusual for her. Despite the expression of tight-lipped determination on his daughter’s face, Gary couldn’t help but be reluctant.

   “Why are you so determined to k-keep me away from this one? Was there something in the paper, some — something I missed?” He took the Sun-Times out of his back pocket, just to check.

   “No. Not the paper.” Arianna turned pleading brown-green eyes on her father. “Please, Daddy, trust me on this one.”

   Reluctantly, he did, and had to admit that she handled it beautifully. Moments before Tracie Fields would lean on the railing and fall, Arianna showed up out of breath. “Ma’am, excuse me, have you seen my father? I’ve gotten separated from him and I can’t find him anywhere.” She was just desperate enough to be convincing.

   Looking thoughtful, Miss Fields moved away from the faulty railing. “Where do you live? Maybe I could drive you home.” She suddenly spotted Gary standing in the alley. “Is that your father?”

   “Oh, yes!” Arianna exclaimed, feigning surprise and not having to feign relief. “Thank you so much. I can’t see very well without my contact lenses and I was afraid I’d never find him. Come on, let me introduce you to him.” She fairly dragged Miss Fields down the steps.

   “Daddy! I’m so glad to see you. I thought I’d never find you.” Gary caught on quickly and gave his daughter a hug as she continued, “This is the nice lady who saw you from up there. I’d never have seen you without my contacts in.”

   Gary smiled and extended his hand. “Thank you for h-helping my daughter, ma’am. I’m Gary Hobson and this chatterbox is my daughter Arianna.”

   “Tracie Fields,” the woman replied timidly. “You’re very much welcome, Mr. Hobson.” After saying how nice it was to meet them, Miss Fields headed back toward her car. Gary checked the paper and smiled when he saw that the story was gone. “Good work, Arianna,” He said as he turned toward his daughter, only to stop short when he saw her leaning against a building, shaking. “Arianna, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

   “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice was weak. “I’m just thinking what might have happened if I hadn’t ... ”

   “Oh.” Gary nodded, but he didn’t really understand. Arianna had been around the paper her entire life; she had helped him out many times before. Why had this one save affected her so much? She’d been acting strange ever since she woke up, come to think of it.

   By the time the pair made it back to McGinty’s, Arianna had almost been able to convince herself that her dream was just that — a dream. She was no longer even so sure of what would have happened with that last save. Maybe it was just a weird coincidence, the similarities between her dream and reality. Life could be so confusing.

   Sometimes, when she was confused and couldn’t sort out her thoughts, she found that it helped to write them down, so as soon as she could, Arianna took out her journal. She was flipping through the pages, looking for the right spot, when a plain white envelope fell out.

   “I don’t remember putting that there,” Arianna muttered. The cat meowed, but she ignored him. The envelope was unsealed, so she opened it and shook out the contents: three thin, neatly folded pieces of paper. Newspaper clippings.

   When Arianna unfolded the first clipping and read the headline, her heart seemed to stop. “Local Man Dies Saving Woman: Gary Hobson, 54, died after he fell from a rooftop while saving the life of a 27-year-old woman identified as Tracie Fields ... ”

   Hardly daring to breathe, Arianna checked the date on the clipping. June 17. Tomorrow.

   The date on the second clipping was October 2, and the headline was, again, familiar: “Woman Dies in Robbery: Lindsay Romick became the lone victim of a crazed bank robber when she stepped in front of a child the gunman was planning to ... ”

   “Oh, God,” Arianna whispered. October 2. In her “dream”, she clearly remembered, Lindsay had died on October 1.

   The third clipping was dated October 3. Arianna pursed her lips, confused. “Wait a minute, my dream ended the morning of October 2. Why is ... ” Her voice trailed off as she read the headline.

“Teenage Bar Owner Commits Suicide”

   18-year-old Arianna Hobson, the owner of McGinty’s bar, committed suicide yesterday morning. Her body was discovered by Marissa Brown, who has worked at the bar for more than 20 years. Miss Hobson’s friends, including Mrs. Brown, believe that her suicide was triggered by losing both her father, Gary Hobson, who died in a fall more than three months ago, and her close friend, Lindsay Romick ...

Email the author: eternallyfaithful@juno.com
 

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