The Baltimore Quaker Meeting opened up an entire new world for me during the early part of 1970.  Over a two month period, five consecutive doors were opened.  Each one led to a huge surprise.  The first door opened when I met Richard, the who suggested I read Autobiography of a Yogi.  This was this book that initiated my spiritual journey.

A man named David opened the second door by announcing a Yogi from India would be speaking that same night on the Hopkins campus.  Thanks to the Yogi, I would embrace Meditation for the next two and a half years. 

Richard opened the third door with his suggestion that I read Carl Jung's Memories, Dreams and Reflections.  This book led to my List of Suspected Supernatural Events.

A Quaker man named Victor was responsible for the fourth door.  One week after my Yogi experience, an announcement was made during morning service that a lecture on the Occult would take place the same night at the Meeting house. 

After the service ended, Richard pulled me aside.  "You should definitely listen to this man, Rick.  Bob Hieronimus is the most interesting speaker I have ever met." 

That, I would discover, was the understatement the century.  After discussing Reincarnation, Hieronimus moved on to Edgar Cayce, Atlantis, the Great Pyramid, the Great Seal, the secret destiny of America, spacemen, UFOs that built the Pyramids, and Astrology.  Welcome to the Wild World of the Occult.  Bob Hieronimus was a charismatic speaker to be sure.  I was fascinated by every subject Hieronimus talked about. 

The fifth door was the Seance. 

April 1970, second semester, sophomore year, Age 20

Vickie
 

It was April 1970, 16 months since my last date.  Ever since Connie Kill Shot humiliated me back in October, I had completely shut down any further thought of dating.  Since the Hopkins campus was a Sahara desert when it came to women, the absence of temptation helped me stick to my decision.  A daily dose of basketball did the rest.  However, now that I had begun to cheer up, my interest in the Fair Sex had returned.  For this reason I was excited to meet a pretty teenage girl named Vickie at the Baltimore Quaker Meeting.  Vickie was short, maybe 5' 2".  She had jet-black hair and piercing green eyes.  She also had a smart mouth.  I had never met a sassier girl, but it was okay.  I really enjoyed matching wits with her.  We had been speaking for 20 minutes or so when Vickie spoke up in her usual impish style. 

"So, Rick, what do you think about dating Irish girls half your age?  Do you have any objections to being a cradle robber?"

Flabbergasted, I was at a loss to know how to respond.  Vickie took advantage and continued.

"I thought since we are having this great conversation, maybe we could meet to have pizza sometime.  You could buy me a beer and pretend we are the same age." 

I had Vickie pegged as a high school senior, 17, maybe 18.  Given the age difference, I needed to think about this.  "Listen, Vickie, I have a busy week.  Can we talk about this next Sunday?"

Vickie looked disappointed, but accepted my brush-off with poise.  We parted with a promise to resume the conversation the following week.  Given a reprieve, I gave it some thought.  It was obvious that Vickie was younger than me.  However, given how lonely I was, I was willing to overlook her age.  I smiled as I recalled how much fun it was to spar with her.  Since Vickie exuded so much self-confidence, I decided dating a high school senior was acceptable. 

The following Sunday, I was pleased to see Vickie wave at me from across the room.  I noticed she was wearing all-black for the second week in a row.  After the Quaker hour of silence, we resumed our conversation.  Vickie had obviously been waiting for this moment.  The previous week she had been cute and coquettish, but this time she came at me like a panther.  With those striking green eyes boring a hole in me, I felt on guard.  Vickie was so aggressive that my instincts suggested I step back and put on the brakes. 

I already knew Vickie had a major crush.  Now I sensed desperation and I had a hunch I knew why.  Vickie was an only child.  Her father had passed away and she lived alone with the scariest-looking woman I had ever seen.  So far I had not met her mother Renata.  However I had seen her watching from afar as Vickie and I spoke.  It did not help that the woman had a perpetual frown as she stared at us menacingly. 

Renata was a gaunt, extremely slender woman with long black hair.  Dressing completely in black, Renata resembled Morticia, the Addams family matriarch.   The resemblance was so uncanny I decided the woman dressed this way deliberately.  Vickie's mother gave me the creeps.

As we talked, Vickie said, "Hey, what about my offer for dinner?" 

When I hesitated, Vickie quipped, "Okay, what's your excuse this time?"

I immediately squirmed.  Her desperation had made me reluctant to see her, so I was indeed racking my brain for some reason to say no.  Her line about searching for an excuse caught me so off guard that I blushed. 

"Gotcha, didn't I?" 

Yes, she did.  If I didn't know better, Vickie had just read my mind.  Since I had no decent excuse, I decided to accept.  It didn't have to lead to anything and I could certainly use a friend. 

"Okay, Vickie, you win.  Let's meet for pizza some night this week."

That is when Vickie threw a wicked curve. 

"No, I have a better idea.  Let's have dinner at my house!  I've already asked my mother and she's okay with it."

What??  Good grief.  Never... and I mean NEVER... in my wildest imagination did I anticipate this.  I assumed Vickie would meet me at some pizza spot in her neighborhood.  I would buy her a beer so Vickie could pretend she was a big girl and we would have a nice chat.  Then I remembered I wasn't old enough to buy a beer either.  Hmm.  Obviously my dating skills were out of date.  Or extinct.  I gave it some thought.  Unfortunately, it would be very awkward to decline now.  I could see my presence meant a lot to this girl.  I had already said yes, so I decided I wasn't going to back out.  But that didn't mean I was looking forward to it.  I got Vickie's phone number and agreed to come over on Tuesday night. 

As I walked back to campus, I strongly regretted my decision.  I wasn't happy about this.  Not at all.  Dinner with Vickie's mother was the last thing I wanted.  What have I gotten myself into?  If it was just Vickie on her own, that was okay.  I liked this girl and could really use her company.  But there was no way I could let this go one step further, not with that weird, wildly over-protective mother in the picture.  Vickie's aching vulnerability suggested there must be something wrong.  This poor girl was wearing her heart on her sleeve.   Since I knew Vickie was counting on seeing me, I did not have the heart to let her down. 

How could I forget how much Emily had hurt me by canceling our date shortly before the train station incident?  For that reason I did not dare cancel the date with Vickie.  But why not cut it short??  And so I came up with perhaps the most bizarre excuse in the history of mankind as a way to end the evening early. 

April 1970, SOPHOMORE YEAR OF COLLEGE, age 20

DINNER AT Vickie's HOUSE
 

I was scheduled to have dinner at Vickie's house on a Tuesday night.  I absolutely dreaded the thought.   Racking my brain for any sort of excuse to cut the evening short, I recalled Tuesday was Seance Night at Dorothy's house.  One month had passed since I last visited Dorothy's seance.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Right before I left my apartment, I phoned ahead to warn Vickie I would have to leave early so I could attend a séance that night.  I suppose my Readers have already concluded this was a very bad idea.  Incidentally, do any of you remember Red-Handed Bob?  Back when I decided to cheat on my German test, my first thought was that I would NEVER be caught cheating.  As for the seance, Vickie's over-protective mother would NEVER allow her impressionable teenage daughter to participate.  So why not use this as an unusually creative excuse?  My true plan was to leave dinner early and go play basketball afterwards.  

Imagine how stunned I was when Vickie immediately asked if she could join me at the seance.  Taken aback, I replied, "Uh, maybe you should ask your mother."  Which of course was not the correct thing to say.  The correct answer was "No Possible Way!"  But we all know I'm not that smart.  So Vickie put down the phone.  While I waited, I shook my head in consternation.  I had not anticipated this.  Supremely irritated, I kicked myself.  On the other hand, what did I have to worry about?  This excuse was fail-safe.  No mother in her right mind would allow her precocious hot to trot teenage daughter to accompany a likely sex deviate to a séance.  Certainly not Morticia, the original Helicopter Mom.  Knowing her daughter had feelings for me and given how inappropriate it was for a weirdo to suggest something preposterous like a seance, the answer was certain to be "NO!" 

Guess again.  I was stunned when Vickie reported her mother said okay.  Unbelievable.  How could my clever idea backfire so horribly?

Vickie's home was an aging, run-down row house in a lower middle-class area.  It was an extremely narrow building three stories tall.  Vickie threw open the door and greeted me enthusiastically with a big hug.  "Guess what, Rick, I have a big surprise for you!"

Now what?  This cannot get worse.  And yes, it got worse.  As we climbed the long staircase to the living area, Vickie was excited. 

"I have something to tell you.  Someone once told me I am a natural psychic.  I can't wait to see what a seance is really like."

I blanched.  Oh my God, what is going on here?  I said nothing, but to myself I wondered if this might be a nightmare.  No matter what move I made, I kept getting sucked deeper into something I never wanted to do.  Lacking a polite way out of this dilemma, my last hope was that her over-protective mother would change her mind.  Maybe I should fondle Vickie at dinner.  Hmm.  Not a bad idea.

Just then Renata appeared at the top of the steps.  I froze at the sight of the imposing, gaunt-faced woman.  With her pale complexion, hollow eyes and prominent cheekbones, I could not help but notice she was downright emaciated.  The word 'skeletal' crossed my mind.  This macabre woman scared the wits out of me.  I felt like I was coming to a funeral, not a dinner.  My sense of dread increased with each step. 

The second floor resembled Tales from the Crypt.  There was a total absence of color.  Everything - the walls, the furniture, the rug - was a mixture of browns and grays.  All that was missing was an autographed picture of Dracula.  I shuddered throughout the meal due to the oppressive sense of darkness that pervaded the home.  Recalling the problems I had dealing with my own strange mother, I could not help but feel sorry for Vickie.  The thought of being trapped in this dreary home with this cold, sad woman as her sole companion was appalling. 

I lied about the start time of the seance just so I could escape more quickly.  Vickie got up so fast she actually tripped getting out of her chair.  I had to suppress a smile.  Vickie was just as anxious as me.  Weren't we a pair?  Her mother did not make this easy.  She followed us down the stairs all the way to my car.  Beckoning Vickie to roll the car window down, Renata went over curfew rules and reminded her daughter this was a school night.  Renata could not possibly have humiliated Vickie any more than she did with her stern lecture.  I watched Vickie's expression.  She sat there stone-faced and took her mother's little-girl treatment in stride.  I was impressed with Vickie's self-control.  She was so much more obedient than I ever was.  I would never have let my mother talk to me like that.  I concluded Vickie was light years more mature than me at a similar age.  Fortunately she cheered up once we were on the road. 

WELCOME TO THE MAIN EVENT
 

"So what is a seance like?" Vickie asked.

I told her about my new best friends Aunt Nellie, Chief Running Bear, and Abe Lincoln.  When I told her Mary the Spinster had a crush on me, Vickie rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't surprise me, Rick.  With your personality, I imagine a lot of dead women would find you attractive."

Ouch!  She got me good.  "You will say anything to razz me, won't you?"

Vickie grinned and replied, "Of course.  However, in your case, it is so easy.  I just wish you were more of a challenge."

We entered the building and were ushered upstairs.  Moments after taking our seats, a man lit the small candle in the doorway, then turned out the lights.  Once it was pitch black, Dorothy was open for business.  The personality of good old Aunt Nellie spoke first.  Chief Running Bear was followed by someone new, Uncle Bob.  No Abe Lincoln, but this time Napoleon stopped by.  This was so ridiculous I was embarrassed I had brought Vickie along.  I could not imagine the teasing I would get when we got back in the car.  After 15 minutes or so I wanted to go.  I had no patience for this nonsense.  I was just about to suggest we leave when a new voice spoke out in the darkness.  Except this voice had the distinctive ring of a living person who was not the medium. 

"I'm sorry to break in, but does anyone in the room know a Terry?"

The unidentified voice in the dark was very near me.  I froze when I recognized Vickie's voice.  No way!!!  I stopped breathing as I waited for someone to answer the question.  No one answered.  Oh my God, is Vickie channeling the spirit of my dog?  THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!   With an enormous sense of foreboding, I hesitantly spoke. 

"Um, I know someone named Terry."

Vickie continued.  "There's something strange about Terry.  I think he's a dog."

I turned white.  Surely this is a dream.  Chilled to the bone, I reluctantly answered. 

"Yes, you're right.  Terry was my dog back in Houston."

A series of thoughts raced through my mind.  Was this really the ghost of my dog?  Three months earlier I had gotten a letter from my mother saying Terry had died.  He was 12 when he passed away.  I never said a word to anyone.  Why should I?  I didn't have any friends who would care.  No one in Baltimore had the slightest idea that my beloved border collie had died a thousand miles away and that included Vickie. 

Vickie's next words broke my heart.   "Terry says he misses you terribly.  He is very scared in his new home wherever that is." 

I was speechless.  Was Vickie making this up or was this for real?

Vickie paused for a second.  "Rick, Terry has a question for you." 

My heart was beating madly.  I was too afraid to answer, so Vickie continued.

"Terry wants to know why you left him."

A dagger of agony shot through me.  How was I supposed to explain why I left to a dog?  It broke my heart to leave Terry behind when I left for college two years ago.  Based on what Vickie said, I was crushed to be informed just had badly I had broken his heart.  Throughout my childhood Terry had wrapped his existence around me.  Through thick and thin we were inseparable for ten years.  I could not imagine the pain Terry felt to have me depart.  Losing me had surely devastated my beloved friend.  The poor dog had no way to understand my loss and no hope that I would return.  Now I was the one who was devastated.  The guilt from having Terry confront me made the pain unbearable.  Overwhelmed, I broke down and began to sob like a baby.  But I had to keep it together in order to communicate.  Despite the streaming cascade of tears running down my face, I replied as best I could. 

"Terry, I am so sorry!  I had to leave you to go to college.  Please forgive me, I beg you.  I love you, Terry.  Oh my God, do I love you.    You are the best dog in the world and the best friend I ever had.  I love you so much, please don't ever forget that!"

I couldn't take it any more.  I couldn't speak.  Instead I just cried and cried and cried.  My guilt was tearing me to shreds.

While I wept, Vickie continued.  "Terry says he is so lonely without you.  But he feels better now that you have spoken to him.  He has begun to wag his tail.  Terry is right in front of you.  Can you see him?  Oh my gosh, he is licking your hand!  Can you feel that?"

Without any clue what I was doing, I involuntarily stuck out my hand to pet my dog.  I felt nothing but cold air.  I groaned.  I tried to touch my dog, but I didn't feel a thing.  I didn't see anything either.   I wanted to see and touch the ghost of my dog in the worst possible way, but it was no use.  It was pitch black, there was nothing to see.  I saw nothing, I felt nothing, I heard nothing, I sensed nothing.  Deprived of any sort of contact, it was difficult to believe the ghost of my dog was actually standing before me. 

"I can't see him, Vickie!"

"I can't believe you don't see him.  How can you miss him?  Your dog is right there in front of you!"

I was unable to reply.  This was so bizarre, I felt totally bewildered.  Unable to make any sense of what Vickie claimed was going on and full of doubt that this was on the level, somehow I summoned whatever strength I had left and spoke. 

"Vickie, please tell Terry that I will always love him.  Tell Terry that even though I can't see him or hear him speak to me, he can visit me any time he wants and that I will try to sense when he is near."

"Don't worry, you don't need me.  Terry can hear you himself.  He seems very happy that you have spoken to him."

I could not stop crying.  I could not bear the thought my dog had suffered so much due to my abandonment.  In that moment Dorothy spoke up to regain control of her seance.  Vickie put her hand on my shoulder and whispered we should go.  I wholeheartedly agreed.  In the darkness, I apologized to everyone for the interruption.  We moved towards the dim candle by the door and left. 

INTO THE NIGHT
 

After staggering to the car, I fell to pieces.  I buried my head against the steering wheel and sobbed violently.  Vickie sat there in silence while I cried.  It took a quite a while before I could compose myself enough to speak.  I turned to look at her. 

"What do you want to do, Vickie?  Do you want to go home or do you mind if we drive around for a while?"

"I would rather just drive around.  That's okay with me."

Neither of us were ready for the evening to end.  Vickie had no desire to return home and I had a million questions to ask.  However, nothing was said for quite a while.  Now that I had calmed down, I needed to mull things over.  It hurts to say this, but I did not trust Vickie.  Was this a hoax?  Everything that happened was based on her word that Terry had been present.  I did not see my ghost dog.  I did not detect his presence in any way.  For this reason, I was very fearful that I had been tricked.  Before I said something, however, I needed to analyze what little I did know.  After giving this some serious thought, I concluded one of two things had taken place. 

One, if Vickie was telling the truth, I had indeed been contacted by the ghost of my beloved dog. 

Two, if Vickie was fibbing, the mere mention of Terry confirmed she had the ability to read my mind. 

Whether Vickie lied or told the truth, either way I was totally convinced she did indeed possess psychic power.  That much I was sure of.  Now I had to decide which option to believe.  Terry had not come up in the dinner conversation.  In fact, Terry had not been in my thoughts for some time now.  I am ashamed to admit this, but pressing day-to-day problems had forced Terry's memory into a distant recess.  After my mother's letter, I told no one in Baltimore.  The death of a pet is the sort of thing you tell your friends about, not strangers.  Since I had no friends, I kept this to myself.  One assumes I exaggerate, but no.  Why do you think I was so lonely?  I lived alone and kept to myself.  I had definitely not told Vickie about Terry, you have my word on that.  I barely knew the girl.  For that matter, during dinner I had spent the entire time handling Renata's inquiry into my trustworthiness regarding her daughter.  Given that Terry had not been in my thoughts, there was no "Realistic" way Vickie could have known about my dog short of reading my mind. 

Terry became my dog at age 8.  For ten years, Terry meant the world to me.  Wherever I went on my bike, he went too.  The single most painful event of my entire childhood was the day I said goodbye to my dog knowing full well I would probably never see him again.  Given Terry's importance, maybe Vickie really could read my mind.  Maybe she had the ability to learn the name of my dog plus access my memories and the guilt involved. 

But even if she could sense my guilt, Vickie would have to be a sociopath to fabricate this story.  Although Vickie was definitely troubled, her nature struck me as kind and decent.  I could not fathom why she would use her powers in such a hurtful way.  However, it was a possibility.  With that in mind, I asked a barrage of pointed questions.  Vickie's answers struck me as sincere.  I also tried to trick her.  When I gave the wrong description of my dog's size and fur color, she corrected me with the right answers.     

At the end of the day, it boiled down to common sense and trust.  Common sense said Vickie had no reason to lie.  Common sense said no one has the ability to extract distant memories out of a stranger's mind once those ideas have become ancient history.  For that reason I chose to trust that Vickie was telling the truth.  This was a powerful moment.  Vickie had just given me a firm reason to consider life after death.  She had also given me a firm reason to consider the existence of telepathy. 

I am sure Vickie guessed at the debate raging in my mind.  Realizing I had finally decided to trust her, Vickie decided it was time to drop a bombshell.  

"Rick, my mother is dying of cancer.  The countdown is close.  It is just a matter of time.  One month, maybe two.  I am so scared I can't see straight.  She could very well be dead on the floor when I get home tonight."

Vickie began to cry her head off.  Through gut-wrenching sobs, she managed to blurt out they were conducting some sort of agonizing death watch together.  

I felt sick.  Why didn't I guess that?  Now I understood why they both wore black.  All the dread I had felt in that house made sense.  The Grim Reaper had been sitting in the fourth chair at the dinner table.  No doubt he would be coming soon.  That explained Renata's morbid demeanor.  I could not imagine how much Vickie suffered living in the macabre atmosphere as her mother's only companion.  The guilt over her mother's impending doom must have been unbearable.  What a brave girl.  I felt so sorry for her.

Vickie added further details to the saga of her mother's frightening battle.  Vickie was an only child.  Her father had died years ago.  Her only relative was an uncle she had never met.  The man lived in some remote corner of Canada.  Her mother was not sure her brother had a phone, so she had written instead.  So far he had not responded.  Well aware the Grim Reaper was sharpening his scythe, Vickie was terrified to be an orphan.  And who could blame her?  Anyone who has ever read Anne of Green Gables can relate to the pain of growing up without parents or anyone who cares.  For that matter, I had more or less raised myself since I was 9.  I could definitely relate.

Although I understood Vickie's predicament, unfortunately I had no idea what to say.  I was very upset with myself.  It hurts to admit this, but I did not know how to take care of her.  For one thing, I was a lousy listener.  I had spent so much of my childhood alone that I could not recall ever offering comfort to another person.  Heck, I was always the most miserable person I knew.  What did I know about cheering another person up? 

I felt utterly ashamed of my inability to comfort this girl.  Although I had spent much of my life cloaked in self-pity, right now I felt like my problems were nothing in comparison to hers.  I could not believe I had actually met a girl whose childhood fate was worse than my own.  Sensing the irony, I wondered if the Universe had sent this girl as a way to tell me to quit complaining all the time.  If so, they had chosen well.  My heart went out to Vickie.  If anyone ever needed a friend, she did.  No wonder she had been so aggressive.  Vickie needed a companion in the worst possible way.  She needed someone, anyone, to give her a respite from her mother's bleak fate and from her own.  Scared and fragile, Vickie could not seem to stop crying. 

Wishing to reassure her, I stopped the car.  I was about to put my arms around her when I was struck by a sudden misgiving.  Given the growing attraction between us, no doubt Vickie would have welcomed my embrace.  However, a small voice suggested I confirm her age first.  "Vickie, how old are you?"

Through sniffles, she replied, "15."

I groaned.  My worst fear.  The moment I discovered Vickie was 15, not 18 as I had hoped, the 5-year gap in our age forced me to change gears in a major way.  It didn't take much of an imagination to see how vulnerable Vickie was.  I was not much of a lady's man, but even I could see Vickie was easy pickings.  Given how lonely we were, it would not take much to light this fire.  One snap of the fingers and this forlorn girl would be in my lap.  Not a good idea.  If I were to touch her, I doubted I had the power to put on the brakes.  Fortunately Vickie was too lost in her pain to sense my dilemma.  As we sat quietly in the darkness, she finally regained her composure. 

"Thanks for listening, Rick.  I really needed to tell you.  It hurts so bad to see my mother wither away like that.  She cries and tells me how bad the pain is.  Then she tells me how scared she is to die.  I try to be grown up for her, but I get so scared sometimes.  It is very difficult being brave.  What am I supposed to do?  I'm just a kid."

"What do you think will happen to you when she is gone?"

"Oh my gosh, I don't know!  I am so scared to think about it.  When she got the diagnosis, my mother contacted her long lost brother up in Canada about taking me, but so far he hasn't responded.  I can't understand why he has taken so long to reply.  I am terrified because I've never met the man.  I don't know much about him.  I don't know if he is married or if he has children.  Besides, even if he takes me in, I don't know how he will treat me.  What if he's as creepy as my mother?  With my luck, I'll probably get molested.  Rick, I am in so much trouble.  If Uncle Phil doesn't agree to take me, there is no one else.  I have no idea what is going to happen to me when my mother is gone.  I could very easily be in an orphanage at this time next year."

Vickie paused for a moment, then brightened.  "Hey, I have an idea.  Why don't you marry me?  I would be a great wife and I would do anything you told me to do.  You don't know this, but underneath my shrouds I have a great body.  Would you like to find out?"

Stunned, I took a hard look at Vickie.  She was grinning from ear to ear.  "Gotcha, didn't I?" 

Crimson with embarrassment, I was beyond grateful my startled reaction was disguised by the darkness.  Exasperated, I replied, "Has anyone ever told you what a brat you are?"

Vickie nodded.  "All the time."

I swear, I thought I was looking at the female carbon copy of myself.  The sad thing is I knew Vickie was only half-teasing.  Feeling myself respond to her longing, I was badly out of control.  Between Terry's ghost, Vickie's death watch, and this losing battle to keep my hands to myself, I was so rattled I did not know what to do.  However, my arousal abated rapidly after Vickie's next comment. 

"I am so glad you invited me to the seance.  Maybe I can find someone to keep an eye on my mother once she's dead."

I did a double-take.  Was Vickie serious or was this gallows' humor?  Vickie was probably being sarcastic, but what she said put me on edge.  The thought of Vickie talking to her deceased mother on the other side was more than I could take.  I had just realized I had no idea who I was dealing with.  For the first time in my life I understood why people are afraid of witches.  Did Vickie really have the ability to contact people on the other side?  Due to the cumulative effects of a long, very weird night, I found myself gripped in great fear of the unknown.  Considering I was terrified by the thought of death, the last thing I wanted was a visit to Hades courtesy of this strange girl.  Although I believed in the existence of a Hidden World, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  What if Vickie used her uncanny power to draw me deeper into the realm of ghosts?  Struck by panic, I felt an urgency to get rid of this girl as fast as I possibly could.

And with that I reached for the ignition.  I had just turned the car on when a vision of Mrs. Ballantyne stopped me in my tracks.  She could easily have left me at any stage during our long parking lot conversation.  Instead she was determined to stick around until her job was complete.  I knew I could never repay Mrs. Ballantyne directly for the kindness she had performed.  However I could definitely 'Pay it Forward'.  Rather than be a coward, I could try to reassure Vickie.  If anyone ever needed a friend, it was her.  With that sentiment burning a hole in my conscience, I overcame my fear and turned the engine off.

"What are you doing, Rick?" Vickie asked.  "I thought you were taking me home."

"Not yet.  There is something important I need to say and I want to be able to look at you."

I freely admit I was nowhere near as effective as Mrs. Ballantyne.  But, hey, cut me some slack.  Growing up alone, I had never consoled another person in my life.  Nevertheless, I did the best I could.  Fortunately I had Mrs. Ballantyne to use as my role model.  Ignoring my sheepish feelings for being a copycat, I carefully followed the script.  I told Vickie how I too had grown up alone, making sure to add gory details about my worthless parents.  After explaining my difficult childhood and pointing out the similarity to hers, I concluded by saying, "Vickie, I have told you my story for a reason.  I can see things are really tough for you right now.  But if I can do it, so can you."  

Those were the same words Mrs. Ballantyne had used with me two years earlier.  When it came to caretaking my troubled friend, I was in no mood to be original.  Fortunately my 'Mrs. Ballantyne' impersonation worked.  I smiled when Vickie began to nod.  I was so relieved when I saw her courage to face a scary future had returned.  Vickie was in a much stronger mood as I drove her home.

However Vickie lost her courage again when we reached her house.  Watching her pitiful, wraith-like mother stare down from the second story window, I shuddered the same way Vickie did.  Although I lacked Vickie's psychic powers, it was far too easy to envision the Grim Reaper standing next to her mother.  It was unnerving to think the woman's death could come at any moment.  Vickie did not want to get out of the car.  Nor did I blame her.  Vickie trembled violently as she clutched at my arm. 

"Rick, don't leave! I am so scared to be alone with my mother.  I don't know what will happen to me when she dies. Come in with me.  Please help me face this."

In the darkness, we wordlessly stared at each other.  Vickie's fear affected me greatly.  I felt so sorry for this miserable girl.  The grim cruelty of her upcoming Fate had us both in its grip.  At that moment, the eerie lyrics from a Doors song came to mind.

"Into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown.  Riders on the Storm." 

Vickie beseeched me to come inside with her.  My heart was breaking, but I shook my head no.  Realizing Vickie had selected me as her personal knight in shining armor, I expected she would cling to me as tight as possible.  Unfortunately there was no way I could remain aloof to her siren call.  If I followed her inside, I could easily see myself falling for this vivacious, yet totally vulnerable girl.  If so, what were the chances of this working?  The most likely outcome would be disaster.  Perhaps if I possessed the power to assume some sort of platonic big brother role, I would have risked going upstairs.  However the sexual attraction was just too great.  Furthermore I was well aware of my immaturity.  Did I have the wisdom and self-control to rescue Vickie from this dilemma with discretion?  Absolutely not.  Feeling like a heel for letting her down, I decided the next best thing was to comfort Vickie here in the car.   

"Listen, Vickie, you need not worry.  Even if your uncle does not agree to help, I guarantee someone from the Quaker Meeting will step in and offer to take care of you.  You have too much going for you.  People will want to help.  Be brave.  I am certain things will work out." 

If that oratory sounds familiar, yes, I was paraphrasing Mrs. Ballantyne again.  Vickie swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly. 

"You're right, I can make it through this.  And you're right about the Quaker Meeting.  There are people at the Meeting who have already hinted they would step in if my uncle refuses to help." 

Vickie steeled her nerves as best she could.  After taking a deep breath, she forced herself to get out of the car.  I wished so much I was a stronger person.  When she reached the door to her house, she turned to give me one last look.  I was so ashamed of myself.  I felt like I had thrown my friend to the wolves.  However, despite my shame, I was certain I had done the right thing.  We were the two loneliest people on earth.  There was no way she or I could have resisted falling for each other.  That would have made things oh so much more complicated, the kind of stuff that leads to intense heartbreak.  Better to break it off here while we still could.

POSTSCRIPT
 

As I drove home from Vickie's house that night, it was so weird how my experience with Vickie had been a carbon copy of my parking lot event.  A strange coincidence indeed.  For the very first time, I understood why Mrs. Ballantyne had chosen to help me back in 1968.  Once a person receives a helping hand in the midst of great trouble, the ensuing gratitude is etched so deep that a desire to help others handle a similar fate is inevitable.  Mrs. Ballantyne's empathy had warned her that a troubled boy was in great need of her help.  I had felt the same way towards Vickie.  My heart ached for Vickie so much that I had tried the best I could to give her whatever support I was capable of.  My guilt over abandoning Vickie to her grim fate was tough to deal with.  Of course I had wanted to help Vickie.  How could I not?  Nevertheless, at this point in my life I could barely take care of myself, much less a terrified teenage girl.

I never saw Vickie again.  Fearful of changing my mind, I chose to avoid the Quaker Meeting for five months.  After the summer, I returned to Quaker Meeting.  A woman said Vickie had gone to live with her uncle after all.  I doubted the ensuing years had been easy for her.  However, if anyone could do it, Vickie could.  Mrs. Ballantyne had overcome adversity.  So had I.  If we could overcome adversity, then Vickie could too.  Life is never easy, but she would have made it, I was certain of that.  Vickie had so much ability. 

In addition to Vickie, Mrs. Ballantyne was very much on my mind.  I recalled how Sam Maceo had offered to help her get a college education without even being asked.  The similarity of our parallel past convinced me more than ever before that Mrs. Ballantyne and I were linked by Fate.  Thanks to the helping hand of the Galveston Godfather, Mrs. Ballantyne chose to pay his Kindness forward wherever she could.  Grateful to be one of her recipients, I turned around and paid her kindness forward to Vickie.  I did this because Mrs. Ballantyne had taught me the importance of a Simple Act of Kindness.

Oh, one more thing.  Vickie could very easily have been the great love of my life.  That is how special she was.  The Epic Losing Streak had claimed its fifth victim.

Ultra-Serious