The Curse of the Good Samaritan: Misunderstandings and Past Histories Can Turn an Act of Kindness into a Curse

By Glenda Moss Sullivan

“The Curse of the Good Samaritan” is not what you think. It’s a romantic mystery with twists and turns that you’ll never see coming. It’s the story of an attractive widow, Abby Christianson, who wants to start living a new and better life, a life that doesn’t involve any serious relationships with men. Abby has had some unfortunate experiences with men in her past, experiences that she has never shared and never plans to share, not even with her best friends. She is ready to leave her past behind her.

First, she sells her large home and then purchases a luxury oceanfront apartment in a retirement complex. There she makes many interesting and unique friends who end up playing important roles in her new life. This number includes a man, Bob Goldman, who decides immediately that he wants to know Abby better; however, Abby finds his interest and attention a bit unsettling.

Even more unsettling, are the letters and messages that she begins receiving from an unknown writer, who threatens to take her life and she doesn’t know why. The story doesn’t end where you think or how you think but it will hold your attention to the last page, leaving you wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781664269675

Glenda Moss Sullivan

Glenda Moss Sullivan, a Florida native, grew up in West Palm Beach. She was a high school dropout who married at the age of sixteen and raised four children, before earning her master’s degree in Speech and Language Pathology at the University of South Florida. She spent twenty years working in a medical setting, in Jacksonville, Florida. She has developed curriculums to use in Bible classes, taught Bible classes, participated in a prison ministry, and spoken at numerous events for women.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A strangled cry shatters the silence of a dark and muggy Florida night. Inside her older two-story home, Abby Christianson suddenly bolts upright in bed. She’s drenched in sweat and her heart pounds in fear as she tries to locate and identify the sound that woke her, what was that? Is someone in here? Her heart races as she struggles to free herself from the tangled sheets. Her eyes strain to pierce the darkness in her room. She calls out tentatively, Who’s there? What do you want? Her hand trembles as she reaches for and turns on the bedside lamp. She looks around, sees no one, and thinks, the house alarm didn’t go off . . . Then she realizes, I was dreaming. It was a nightmare. I was trying to call for help. I made that sound.

The dream had been so vivid that she’s still able to recall some of the bizarre details because they were in color. She reaches for the journal and pen that she keeps in the nightstand beside her bed, finds the next empty page, dates it and begins to write:

I just had another horrible dream, the third one this week. In each dream I’m being chased by a faceless man, but this time he catches me and ties me up with yellow duct tape, not black, not blue, but yellow! That was crazy! What would yellow represent, cowardness? I have no idea. All I knew was, I was sure I was about to die and was trying desperately to call for help.

Frowning slightly and bringing the tip of the pen to her lips, she worries, I wonder what would happen to me, if the time ever came, when I couldn’t wake up from a dream? Would I die? Surely not!

She continues to speculate, why am I having these terrible dreams again? Is it because I’m living alone now and I’m not used to that? I think it’s because I don’t feel safe in this house anymore. She’s aware of the sudden prick of a painful memory, but quickly tells herself, no, it can’t be that. That happened too long ago, it has to be something else.

Abby closes her journal, still trying to analyze her most recent dream. My nightmares all seem to follow the same theme: someone is trying to kill me, I’m screaming for help, but no one comes because I’m alone.

She returns the book and pen to the nightstand drawer, gets up and puts on the yellow silk robe that has been lying at the foot of her bed. She slides her feet into matching slippers and begins walking around the house rechecking the locks on each door and every window, a ritual that she had already performed earlier that night as well as every other night, ever since the funeral.

Abby would admit to anyone who asks, that she hates living alone and has been seriously considering moving. Even more-so, since she learned about the recent break-ins in her neighborhood. However, her friends and family have all advised her to wait at least a year before making any big decisions and so she’s been waiting.

She walks back to her bedroom, sits down on the bed with shoulders slumped, and considers her situation. Days are bad, I miss having someone in the house, someone to talk to, but nights are worse, because of the nightmares. I remember when I was a child and had night terrors, I knew that I could crawl into bed and sleep with a sister who would comfort me. I still had nightmares as a teen, but they eventually stopped after I married Jake. But now the nightmares have returned. They started after Jake died, and after my son and daughter-in-law, moved back into their own home. Abby laughs at herself as she thinks, the problem is, I don’t have anyone to crawl into bed with anymore. I am all alone in this big house and I don’t like it!

She sits still for a few minutes longer, her head lowered and her eyes closed, and begins to pray silently, Dear God, what should I do? Please help me make the right decision.

After a few more minutes, she opens her eyes and stands up, having made her decision, I’m moving. I don’t care what anyone else says. I’m not going to put it off any longer. I’m going to move to a place where I will feel safe.

Her expression changes briefly to one of apprehension as she considers, I wonder what Jake would say. But she already knows what Jake would say. He would say, You don’t need to move, this house is already paid for and it isn’t necessary. She can visualize him saying all of those things because she has heard him say those same words to her many times in the past. Jake usually made all of the decisions, but Jake isn’t here anymore.

She looks at her watch and sees that it’s not even five am. It’s too early to make any phone calls, but I’m wide awake. I might as well stay up.

As Abby heads for the shower, she is unaware that on this very same night, in a different location, another woman experiences a similar nightmare. Unfortunately, that woman wasn’t sleeping and now she will never dream again.

CHAPTER 2

It has been a dark and muggy Florida night in other areas, with threatening storm clouds covering the moon and stars. It’s exactly the kind of night that Dennis Flowers prefers for his nocturnal excursions. He feels confident that no one saw him when he left his apartment earlier, and now, no one sees him return just before daybreak, which is how he always plans it.

As he makes his way carefully through the darkness, toward the rear entrance of the exclusive Beaches Courtyard Retirement Complex, he chuckles to himself thinking, my, my, isn’t it convenient how the lights at this back door never seem to be working? Well, maintenance does need something to keep them busy. All they ever do is hide out behind the dumpster room and smoke.

Dennis detests the smell of tobacco or any other kind of smoke; too many unpleasant memories associated with those odors. And then, completely unsummoned, one of those memories begins to work its way to the surface of his mind. It’s a memory of the day his grandmother died.

He remembered that his grandmother always had a cigarette in her tobacco-stained hands. Sometimes she held two, the one she was smoking and the one she was going to smoke. Grandma, as he called her, had actually died smoking one of her Lucky Strikes cigarettes, which, when he thought about it, wasn’t so lucky that day.

He hadn’t planned it, but he had watched her die, and in a way, it was his fault that she died. He knew that she would be very upset when he delivered the news that he had lost his tennis scholarship and wouldn’t be moving out in the fall. She had been more than ready for him to get out of her house. Dennis knew that she had always resented having to take care of him because she had told him so many times.

He still remembers that day, when he stepped into that filthy, roach-infested house that they shared, to deliver his news. Grandma was in her usual position, curled up on that old, sunken sofa, surrounded by dirty dishes and ashtrays full of cigarette butts, watching television with the volume turned up so high, you could hear it from the street.

It was late afternoon, but he remembered that she was still wearing that dirty, thread-bare, chenille bathrobe she liked to sleep in. She was holding a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He walked over to the TV and turned it off.

She screamed at him, Why did you do that? Are you blind or just dumb? You could see I was watching my program.

I have to tell you something, he responded quietly, and you are not going to like what you hear.

Wait. Don’t tell me. You got some girl pregnant!

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as he suppressed the urge to hit her. Then he continued, No, but I am not going away to college.

What do you mean? she continued to scream at him as she struggled to get up. You have a full scholarship. You have to go to college!

He had begun to raise his voice in response to hers, They took away my scholarship, but it wasn’t my fault. I was just trying to help some dumb girl, who was in trouble. I could see that no one else was going to help her.

Giving herself a final push from the couch, the old woman was up on her feet and lunging toward him, shaking her fist, Of course it was your fault. It’s always your fault because you’re so … She stopped suddenly.

He saw the expression on her face change from anger to fear, and then watched in disbelief as she dropped to the floor. He rushed to her side: her face was turning blue. He grabbed the nearby phone and quickly dialed the operator, shouting, I need an ambulance!

The ambulance came, but it was too late. He was told that nothing could have been done. His grandmother had died from a massive heart attack.

Dennis shakes his head thinking, that was a very long time ago. Later, there was the big fire. He pushes both thoughts away. I don’t have time to think about the big fire right now. There are other things I have to do first.

He reaches his immaculate downstairs apartment, quickly enters and quietly closes the door. He immediately goes to his spacious walk-in closet. He opens the large, heavy safe that is bolted to the closet floor and places two objects inside, closes the door and sets the lock. Next, he strips naked, tosses his clothing into the washing machine, adds detergent, turns it on, and then steps into the shower. Dennis smiles and thinks, it’s been a good night, yes, a very good night, at least for me, and when he laughs this time, it sounds evil.

Across the Intercoastal Waterway, in the nearby city of Jacksonville, where Abby Christianson lives, it’s still dark when she completes her shower. She turns the water off, grabs the large white towel that she had set out earlier, and steps into her well-lit bathroom. As she dries her body, she studies her reflection in the oversized mirror and grimaces at what she sees. Every defect and imperfection that she has tried so hard to keep hidden, is exposed to the bright light and appears magnified in the mirror and in her eyes. I have so many scars. I hate them! They are so ugly!

Yet, despite her many perceived imperfections, Abby is a very good-looking woman and in good physical condition, having remained quite active since her retirement. In addition to walking and playing a little pickleball, she teaches Bible classes, enjoys reading, and recently has begun writing down her thoughts and stories for a family album. Abby enjoys telling stories, and although she might deny it, she’s a very talented storyteller. People enjoy listening to her. However, there is one story that you will never hear her tell. It’s the story of how she acquired her wounds so many years ago, when she was young.

Since her husband’s death, Abby has assumed, albeit incorrectly, that now only she knows about that awful time in her life. She has promised herself that she will never again share that tragic and disturbing story with anyone. She learned the hard way, that there are some things better left unsaid and unshared. She assures herself, I will never tell another soul, there is no need.

It’s unfortunate though, as much as she has tried, Abby has never been able to completely forget or erase from her mind that one night that she feels changed her forever. Even after all these years, she still wonders, why was I so dumb?

Even though she tells herself that she has put the entire episode behind her, Abby frequently delves into the recesses of her mind to pick at that scab of a memory, a memory that could cause nightmares, maybe even like the one she had last night.

She looks at her watch again and sees that it is now 6:20 AM and decides, I will call the realtor at eight o’clock and let her know that I am ready to put this house on the market, and then I am going to call the Beaches Courtyard. Abby has been searching the internet for a retirement community for active seniors and likes what they have to offer. So now she is ready to set up a tour with them and start a new life: a better life she hopes, a life free from nightmares.

She dresses and eats a simple breakfast of oatmeal, grapefruit, and black coffee. Then, at eight, she makes her calls. Hi Rachal, this is Abby Christianson. I’m ready to do it. Let’s sell this house.

Abby, it’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?

Pretty good, but I know I’ll do better when I make this move. I’m ready now and I want you to list my house.

That sounds good to me, says the realtor.

They decide to meet at five o’clock that afternoon, to sign the paperwork and get pictures of the house.

Next, she calls the Beaches Courtyard where an enthusiastic and youthful sounding salesperson tells her, We just happen to have a cancellation this morning. Could you possibly come in today at eleven? Abby responds in the affirmative and then begins making lists of all the things she will need to do in order to move. She hopes she’s making the right decision.

CHAPTER 3

Abby has done her homework and already knows quite a bit about the Beaches Courtyard. It’s a reasonably new luxury retirement community situated on 125 acres of coveted woodland next to the ocean. It has its own private beach, easily accessible by a boardwalk built through a hardwood hammock.

The owners assured the city that the landscaping throughout would include the original flora, enhanced with other native plants. In addition, there are nature trails and paved pathways for walking, biking, and driving the now ubiquitous golf cart.

Courtyards, found across the country in select communities, are designed to allow seniors to age in place and comfort with three distinct levels: independent living, assisted living, and full care. Finally, each has a memory unit as well, and all facilities are limited for use by Courtyard residents only.

Shortly before eleven, Abby arrives, pulling up to the guardhouse. Good morning, my name is Abby Christianson, and I have an appointment to tour the facility.

Good morning Ms. Christianson. Welcome to the Beaches Courtyard. Go right ahead. I see your name is on the visitor list today. You have a good day, and I hope that you like what you see. He lifts his cap and nods for her to proceed as he opens the decorative iron gate. Abby continues her drive up a tree-lined road leading to a circular driveway and the four-story main building.

After parking, she enters a lobby decorated to impress, and she is impressed. First her eyes are drawn to a large centrally placed fountain in a beautifully landscaped courtyard for which the facility is named. Next Abby notices a wide hallway providing ingress to the ground-level apartments to the left of the courtyard entrance. To her right, she sees the Courtyard offices under a curved stairway that leads to the second-floor formal dining room with ocean view and award-winning chef. She learns that a second more casual dining area faces west and allows a view of the setting sun.

A sales representative meets Abby and invites her to eat an early lunch in their formal dining room. She agrees and is led over to a table where an older woman is seated.

The waiter introduces Abby. Ms. Poole, this is Abby Christianson. She is looking at our facility today. May she sit with you for lunch?

Of course. Have a seat, my dear, and call me Mary Ann. Where are you from?

Abby tells her, and conversation flows easily for the remainder of the meal. Lunch is enjoyable, and Abby finds the food lives up to its hype. Mary Ann, one of the original residents, is very friendly and encourages Abby to make the move.

Following lunch, Abby returns to the lobby and meets a second staff member, who introduces herself saying, Ms. Christianson? Linda, who was showing you around before lunch, just got a call from her son’s school, and he is sick, so she needs to go and pick him up. If it’s okay with you, I will finish the tour. My name is Brandy Lyons, and I am the manager here.

As Abby turns toward the manager, she accidentally steps into the path of one of the residents coming out of the library and apologizes quickly. I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you alright?

The resident responds politely, but without smiling, No problem, I’m fine, and he hurries on his way.

Raising her eyebrows, Abby looks at the manager. That was odd. Did I do something to offend him? He wasn’t very friendly.

Brandy Lyons responds, No, don’t worry, that’s just the way Mr. Flowers is. I have no idea why he wanted to move here. He has never been very social. Immediately realizing she has not been appropriately discreet, she continues quickly: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Most of our residents are very friendly. She then gestures toward a beautiful set of doors. Here, let me show you, our library.

Abby is very impressed with the library and the additional ground-level rooms which include a gourmet coffee shop, open twenty-four hours a day, a billiards parlor, and a mailroom. Inside the mailroom, Abby sees a bulletin board for announcements and inter-house messages. The remainder of the main building contains spacious two and three-bedroom luxury apartments, each having its own balcony or patio and at least a partial view of the ocean. The building is constructed in a relaxed U shape that encompasses the impressive looking courtyard.

Brandy Lyons explains, The two-story building to the south of the main building houses additional two and three-bedroom apartments and is connected to the main building by a covered walkway. To the north of the main building is another two-story building that houses a grab and go eatery, a fully equipped gym, a heated pool, and a theater/auditorium. That building is also connected to the main building by a covered walkway. There are classrooms for different activities and a spa on the second floor. Other buildings on our campus include assisted living apartments, a memory unit, and total-care living facilities, as well as a number of free-standing homes. But I understand that you are interested in an apartment?

Yes, I am, and I have to say this place is beautiful. I love the tropical setting, and I like seeing a security guard at the gate. I know that I would be safe and feel very comfortable here.

After inspecting several different model apartments, Abby makes a final decision. She writes a check as a deposit on a two-bedroom apartment in the main building and is put on the waiting list. She is excited but also a bit apprehensive. She prays that she is doing the right thing by moving here.

Surprisingly, Abby’s large house sells quickly, and she has to rent an extended-stay suite for the remaining time until a two-bedroom apartment in the main building becomes available.

Her friends tell her, Abby, you are starting a brand-new chapter in your life. Maybe you will even find a new man. They all laugh, and Abby thinks to herself, no, I am writing a whole new book, and there won’t be any men in my book. Abby feels that she has been allowed an opportunity to begin a new life, and she is looking forward to doing that. There are a lot of things that Abby wants to do differently this time. Most of all, she wants to enjoy her freedom and hopefully find peace and happiness. The one thing she isn’t looking for, is another man.

Abby waits, albeit impatiently, until finally she gets the anticipated call. Good news, we have an apartment available. Would you like to come and see it?

Abby does go and is pleased with the apartment. She makes choices regarding paint colors, carpet, and various upgrades, and then waits again to move in on the scheduled date, Saturday, June 7. She arranges for a moving company and informs her daughter Janie, who has agreed to come and help her settle into her new home.

She is excited but still apprehensive about all of the decisions she is having to make and all the money she is spending. She frowns as she continues to think, I know that I haven’t always made the best decisions, especially when I was younger. I sure hope that I’m doing the right thing in moving here.

CHAPTER 4

At 7:45 am, on June 7, Abby is waiting for the moving van, near the rear entrance of the Beaches Courtyard. She is so excited she can hardly contain herself, pacing back and forth, willing the movers to hurry up and get here. She notices dark clouds moving in and then worries a bit, I hope the rain will hold off until everything is moved in.

She is completely oblivious as one of the residents, dressed in white shorts and T-shirt, and carrying a tennis bag, approaches her from behind. She startles when he calls out, Excuse me, and then walks past her without saying another word.

Abby responds automatically, Oh, I’m so sorry, as she moves to the side and then recognizes him as the same man that she bumped into the day she toured the Courtyard. She thinks, He’s not any friendlier today than he was the first time I saw him. I guess he’s in a hurry to play tennis, and suddenly she decides to call out in a friendly manner, Good luck with your game.

Thank you, he mumbles as he hurries out the door, without pausing, or looking in her direction.

Abby frowns as she thinks, well, phooey on you, but I’m not going to let you bother me. I feel great, and I know that I’m going to be happy here, and I am going to be friendly to everyone, even to grumpy old men. Surprisingly though, seeing the tennis paraphernalia triggers an unwelcome memory, and she finds herself being pulled back in time to a period in her life that she would rather forget, the last time she played tennis on the high school tennis team. It was a doubles match.

She remembered that a thunderstorm had passed through earlier that day, leaving the air hot and humid, another typical Florida day. Like an old, grainy home movie, the scene unfolds in her mind. She doesn’t want to watch it again, and although she has reviewed it many times, she finds that she unable to look away. Once again, she remembers and sees herself, competing in that tennis tournament, so very long ago.

She remembered that last game. She can see a much younger Abby standing on the tennis court at the baseline, bouncing the ball against the ground, mentally preparing herself for what she hoped would be her final and winning serve. The score was 40–30, and this could be the last game of the second set. She and her partner had won the first set, and now they had won five games to their opponents’ four in this set. This could be the game-winning point, and she desperately wanted to win. She wanted her father to be proud of her.

Abby knew she wasn’t a natural athlete, but her father was an avid tennis player who pushed her to excel. So, she had always tried hard, knowing it would please him if she won. Plus, she didn’t want to hear his disappointing words if she didn’t win.

Abby was thin and appeared weak and ungainly on the court, but was surprisingly fast; so fast that she often caught her opponents off guard, like she did that day.

With the back of her hand, she casually wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead. Then, quickly, she threw the ball up over her head, brought her racket back, swung it forward and with every bit of force she could muster, hit the descending ball, sending it flying across the net. The serve landed just out of reach of her opponent and ended the hard-fought match. She and her partner screamed with excitement, hugged and did a quick victory dance before they remembered proper tennis etiquette and went over and shook hands with the losing team.

Abigail Matthews and her partner Caroline Page had just won their first doubles match in the statewide high school tennis championship tournament, which was being held on the campus of the University of Florida. This was her first tournament and her first trip to Gainesville. She knew that she would never forget that day, May 18, 1956, not because of winning the tennis match, but because of what happened later that night.

That evening, following the tennis match, the coach had announced that he had planned some fun activities for his team. Abby was not sure what the boys would do, but the girls were going to a fraternity party. Abby was uncomfortable with that plan, because although, she was only sixteen, she had recently become engaged to marry someone that she had met at church, twenty-one-year-old Jake Christianson, a brand-new pilot in the Air Force.

Jake was everything a girl could want. He appeared to be a devout Christian, very good-looking, intelligent and almost perfect in every way. He could have dated any girl he wanted to, and some even wondered out loud, why he didn’t date someone else, maybe someone a little older. Abby felt very fortunate that Jake had chosen her and she was pretty sure that he would not want her going to a fraternity party, but she could see no way out of it. She remembered being concerned, thinking, this could cause a problem.

Her disturbing reverie is broken and she is jerked back to the present, when the large moving truck arrives. Abby quickly takes charge, directing the movers, thinking to herself, I am so glad that I don’t have to live my teen yeas over again and there is no reason for me to even think about them.

Abby had been told that there were approximately four hundred independent residents at the Beaches Courtyard. There was usually a long waiting list to get in, so she felt fortunate to have gotten in as quickly as she did. An apartment wasn’t her only option, but she chose it because she did not want the additional work and expense of another house. In addition, Abby had felt lonely and isolated living in her large house and was now ready to be around people.

Janie had arrived a few days earlier and had been helping Abby get things ready by purchasing a few new items. Soon everything is in place. Abby loves her new apartment and decorates it in a quasi-coastland/beachy theme utilizing blues and grays accented with whites. Most of her furniture is