The Baltimore Apple

By Garland Ladd

Carleys unusual gift allowed her to detect unwholesome brain waves emanating from people within reasonable proximity, even including lies told in her presence. Moreover, inanimate objects oftentimes created worrisome vibrations in her head, suggesting that she stay away from them.

Wisely, she always selectively used her special talent only as a defense mechanism - - never in a mean spirited or vindictive manner - - and nobody knew the extent of her mental perception, not even her husband.

Circumstances required Carley to accompany her husband for an eight-month stay in Baltimore, Maryland where he was to receive eight months of intensive training to enhance his career. The temporary relocation was to be a carefree, happy time for Carley. Instead, it became a consuming, life-threatening experience when she encountered a person who had an aberrant mental condition. A stalemate of telepathic powers ensued, with Carley becoming the big winner and received rewards far greater than anything she could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 14, 2001
• ISBN: 9781462839681

Garland Ladd

Ladd became hooked on writing fiction after retiring from a successful career as a Professional Engineer. This is his seventeenth published novel and he finds the creative process highly intriguing — to wit, his hobby. Developing characters and plots, and describing human interplay satisfies his inner urge to build something from nothing. He typically writes before the rooster crows, and then it’s off to the golf course. Ladd is a veteran of WW 2 and has a BS degree in Mechanical Engineering from Virginia Tech, Class of ’51. With his wife, Sara, they live in Winston-Salem, NC. They have three children and three grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2001 by Garland Ladd.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

EPILOGUE

AUTHOR’S COMMENT

The human mind has no boundaries.

Dedicated to those who possess unusual or aberrant brain functions,

both good and bad, and to those who must deal with them.

CHAPTER 1

Dr. Lala Crenshaw

Mr. and Mrs. Willard Richards

Mr. Haymes Joseph

Mr. and Mrs. Cooke Erwin

Mr. and Mrs. Duff Epil

June 15, 1998

Dear Friends:

Trent and I send you warm greetings from Baltimore, MD and we hope this letter finds each of you well.

You are probably already wondering why your name appears at the top and your connection with the other addressees. The common thread is this: Each of you is an avid reader, love a good yarn, and have an excellent command of the King’s English.

Dr. Lala, I included your name with trepidation because you taught me courses in English and Composition at Wake Forest. I am embarrassed to expose your failure in my case, and admit that it was not your fault. At that time, my interests were boys, parties and simply finishing college, in that order.

Now to the point. I humbly ask for a favor. I realize it will be an invasion of your time, and I suggest that you only give the matter the attention it merits.

Briefly, Trent’s work required that he relocate to Baltimore for eight months, starting last March 1. After we had been here for a month and a half, I became embroiled in a bizarre situation mostly of my own making, but nonetheless very unusual. The details are described in the attached manuscript, entitled simply, MY STORY, without a by-line.

MY STORY was dictated by me into a tape recorder without any pre-organization of thoughts, and was transcribed by a friend who earns her living as a medical secretary/typist. I asked her to type it exactly as dictated; therefore, poor grammar and sentence construction should be charged to my account, not hers.

Should you read the manuscript, you will understand why I am asking you to please keep it under your hat. If the story is ever released for further distribution, it will be under a pen name, and for reasons that will become obvious.

Now for the favor. Please scan MY STORY and then tell me if you think it has the basic ingredients for publishing. Did it capture and hold your interest? Was it as suspenseful in the reading as it was to me in experiencing it? Should the basic plot remain as is and be a true story, or should it be spiked with sex, street language and even more violence, thus making it a work of fiction?

Depending on your responses, I may consider refining the story with an eye to publishing. I have always wanted to try my hand at writing, and my question is whether this incident is a worthy plot. Circumstances are such that I now have a five-month window of time available to edit and rewrite; after that, time will be hard to find.

I thank you in advance for any comments you wish to make. They may be in writing, via telephone, or worst case scenario, simply return the manuscript with a prominent VETO scribbled across the cover sheet.

Best wishes to all and I eagerly await your responses.

Carley Harding

Hanover Arms, A-7 1423 N. Wolfe St.

Baltimore, MD 21287 Tel. No. 410-963-427

MY STORY

I had just arrived home from work a little after six and was standing in the kitchen reading our mail. The grind of the garage door opening announced Trent’s arrival, an hour earlier than usual, and he would likely be starved as usual. I laid the mail aside and began searching the fridge for leftovers to speed-up dinner preparation. A leftover dish of meatloaf seemed ideal and I pulled it out. While still bending over and looking for salad ingredients, Trent walked in and I said, Hi, honey! You’re home early. Did you get fired?

I didn’t bother to look up, but fully expected to receive a loving pat on the fanny. That, and a quick kiss on the lips, was Trent’s usual method of greeting me at the end of a workday. Instead, he came to my side without saying a word, and didn’t even deliver the expected pat. I must be losing my sex appeal, I thought, and tilted my head up for the quickie kiss. That too he ignored. Surprisingly, Trent took the plate of meatloaf from my hand, shoved it back into the fridge, and closed the door.

Carley, let’s go freshen-up a bit because I made dinner reservations at Staleys. No cooking tonight, sweetie!

Oh, what’s the occasion?

A celebration of sorts—I’ll explain it over dinner. In the meanwhile, try using your fabulous mind reading powers to figure out why. Ten to one you’ll never guess it.

I replied, That’s wonderful, and you’re on, but was thinking maybe he had received a raise instead of a pink slip. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that the celebration had to be work related. Our birthdays and anniversary were six months away, and we certainly hadn’t paid off our huge home mortgage. But whatever, it had Trent so preoccupied that he didn’t capitalize on my compromised position and deliver a pat, nor a quickie kiss. I told myself to go along and let it play out at Trent’s pace. It was his surprise, and if it was cause for celebration, then it was my wifely duty to celebrate with him.

During the drive to Staleys, Trent was upbeat and animated. Believing that his secret was good news and that he was dying to get it out, I waited only until our dinner orders were taken and said, I owe you a dollar, honey, I can’t figure it out. What are we celebrating?

Bear with me—1 have to set it up first. You have met my boss, Linus Stapleton, the Administrator at Forsyth Memorial Hospital, and you know that he is getting on in years. Sixty something, and I’m guessing he is near seventy. He has slowed down physically a lot in the last couple of years, and mentally isn’t as sharp as when I went to work for him seven years ago. My hunch is that Linus is either planning to retire soon, or else has a debilitating disease.

I hate to hear that. He seems to be a nice person, and you always spoke highly of him.

True, Carley, but Linus has always been taciturn about my work performance. A typical annual review is merely: You’re doing a fine job, Trent, followed by awarding me a decent raise. In the past, he assigned me responsibilities only for staffing, scheduling and salary administration. Consequently, I haven’t had exposure to public relations, budgeting, financial matters and longrange planning. Those things he has kept to himself, only telling me on a need-to-know basis. To be honest, I simply didn‘t know until today if I would be considered as a candidate to replace him—-and I‘m still not sure.

Reading uncertainty in Trent‘s voice, I offered encouragement, „Well, they surely couldn‘t find anyone better! But honey, what the heck are we celebrating tonight if it isn‘t a raise or a promotion?"

A wide smile came onto Trent‘s face. No, make that an opossum-like grin. „You don‘t have a clue yet, do you, honey?" he teased.

„No clue, so let me hear it if I‘m to help you celebrate!"

„Okay, but even if you don‘t like the news, please understand that it is a distinct honor that Linus is bestowing on me, and it definitely will enhance my career in the hospital administration field. It will be the „biggie on my resume.

By then, I had endured enough of „setting-up, as Trent called it. I also sensed that his reluctance to spill it was because his good news would have a negative impact on me. The vibrations coming from Trent were unmistakable, and my sixth sense seldom lies. Weary of being coy, I blurted, „As your wife, I‘m entitled to know. Spill it, now!

A serious look replaced Trent‘s grin, and he began speaking softly as if afraid of my reaction, or else to prevent his words from being heard at nearby tables. „I am being sent to Johns Hopkins Medical Center in Baltimore for an intense internship lasting eight months. It‘s a program they designed to train hospital administrators, and is fashioned almost along the lines of medical internship. I‘m told that I‘ll have to work my tail off during long hours and crazy shifts, but will end up being exposed to everything involved in running a large hospital. Honey, that‘s exactly what I need to be a viable candidate to replace Linus."

Trent‘s pause gave me time to realize why he had been reluctant to „spill it." Obviously, the assignment meant a physical separation for eight months if I didn‘t accompany him. However, the alternative would be a drastic change for me. I‘d have to resign from my job, lose seniority, and the loss of family income would make it tough going. I suppose my deadpan expression prompted Trent‘s next comment, which definitely put the ball in my court.

„I‘m excited about the opportunity, Carley, but I‘m not going without you. Period, end of discussion!"

I swallowed hard, leaned back in my chair, and felt resentment from the finality of his pronouncement. I‘m sure he read my negative reaction. He probably had expected it, and had practiced a counter argument to ease this stalemate of sorts. Therefore, I waited for him to break the tension.

„Carley, I have a dilemma. If I refuse the Baltimore assignment, it‘s doubtful that I‘ll get Linus‘ job, in which case a move to a different hospital in another city is the only way I would have to advance. It‘s obvious that you are concerned about your job, and I have no problem with you working. But sooner or later we should have children, and I expect you to be a full time mom, at least until they are teenagers. If you agree with that premise, then I need to raise my income level so that you don‘t have to work during the next fifteen to twenty years. If I‘m selected to replace Linus, our financial needs should be covered since my salary would at least double with the Head Administrator‘s title."

„Makes sense, I replied, trying hard to be positive, but quickly added a negative caveat, „We can‘t support two households on one salary, not even for eight months. Maybe I should stay here and continue to work while you are in Baltimore.

To my surprise, Trent smiled broadly and said, „Let me repeat—I‘m not going without you, and it isn‘t even necessary for you to stay here and work. Here‘s the beauty of this opportunity. Forsyth Memorial Hospital will continue to pay one half of my salary during the eight months, including fringe benefits. Johns Hopkins will be getting my services, probably amounting to eighty hours per week, and will supplement my income up to seventy-five percent of my current salary. They will also provide us a furnished apartment and pay all utilities, plus any medical needs that arise while we’re there. The end result is that I get a twenty-five percent raise to help offset the loss of your income. We can make it easily for eight months, after which, I expect a big raise and promotion. Forsyth Memorial wouldn’t send me without something in mind."

Trent’s smug grin implied that he had all bases covered. In fact, he did, except for my special problem, or gift to be more precise. He already knew that I had highly developed intuitive powers, ESP, or whatever you want to call it. Trent often referred to it as mind reading because I frequently read his thoughts without him overtly giving any clues. What he didn’t know was the extent of my special talent, which can be both a bane and a blessing. It helps me tremendously as an insurance claims adjuster, but it also produces unwholesome