Dorcas Goodvoiceflute..

Sometimes stories just never get finished... they just seem to fade away...
Poor Dorcas seemed to be one of those...

I have been thinking about firing myself, but things would get confusing
when I would have to do the phone interview with the unemployment
office and would have to work both sides of the story. Obviously a
raise is a much better idea.

====

But imagine the fun you could have giving yourself a reference when you go looking for a new job!

====

"She is Spectacular! I don't think we have ever had an employee like her. Always on time. Never called in sick. Always bright and chipper. Worth so much more than we could ever pay here. If it was possible I would triple her salary but alas, I can do nothing to persuade her from trying to get what she is truly worth in the market place"

"She does sound amazing. For the record can I get your name again?"

"Ah.. well... ah.... okay. Ah... Dorcas."

"And the last name?"

"ah... well.... Goodvoiceflute. Yes, Dorcas Goodvoiceflute"

====

"You mean the Dorcas Goodvoiceflute that murdered my parents and has
been a fugitive from the law ever since?"

Be careful, what are the odds that there are *2* Dorcas
Goodvoiceflute's?

====

As soon as he heard the name he knew his question was irrelevant, but he had to ask it just the same. No, there was no chance of there ever being two Dorcas Goodvoiceflutes in this, or any other, world. He'd waited a long time for this day and the joy of finally tracking her down washed over him like like tiny electric pinpricks. He pushed the button on his Acme Auto-Reverse 2000 Caller ID and watched as her name appeared on the display followed seconds later by what he'd been waiting a lifetime for: her address.

"Gotcha", he thought.

====

Dorcas let out a sigh. She couldn't believe her luck. After twelve years on the run. Twelve long years. For the first four she had tried a name as easy and common as Susan Scott, and life had been good until UPS tracked her down and started sending her boxes of toys meant for some other Susan Scott. If UPS could track her down, then so could they. That was the last thing she needed. Them. So then she became Hortence Cumberpatch. For eight years the name had served her well. But now she had slipped. She meant to tell that "employment verification" person that she was Hortence, but Dorcas slipped out. It had been twelve long years since she used that name. Twelve long years. Why now? Why now? How could she have slipped?

====

She was a confused mix of emotions. One the one hand, she couldn't
help but feel a little relieved after living a lie for so many years.
Day after day she feared that someone would find out, that someone must
know, and the resulting paranoia was wearing her down. Now her secret
was out, and she felt a brief rush of euphoria at the sudden release.

On the other hand, she had grown into the name Hortence Cumberpatch,
and for some reason the name drove men wild. Her social life had never
been more active, and she worried that they might lose interest if she
were just another Sarah or Jane. But now she couldn't go back to
Dorcas, and she couldn't stay with Hortence. She was at an unexpected
crossroads, one she had hoped she'd never have to face.

"Just who am I, anyway?"

====

, she asked herself as she hurriedly tossed clothes into a battered old travel case.

"I haven't used this case since . . . well, for twelve years, I guess", she joked to her reflection in the mirror as she grabbed her brush and some jewelry.

Closing the travel case and making a quick scan of the room her eyes stopped on a slip of paper perched on the edge of her nightstand. She slowly walked over, fearful of what she knew all too well she was about to find. She reached down and picked up the well read pamphlet and turned it over in her hands and the evening light through the blinds caught the title and drew her attention and she read the title aloud.

"John Wayne’s 100th Birthday with the Centennial Celebration".

As president of the local Cowby Music Singers Association she'd be expected to not only be at the celebration, but to make the keynote address. How would she explain her absence?

====

As "I'm an ol' Cow-hand, From the Rio Grande" played in her head, she

hummed along and looked at the pamplet. Then over at the bus ticket

in her other hand. She thought.... and hummed.

Winterset is 40 minutes away. Could it provide the cover she was needing, or would the very knowledge that Hortence Cumberpatch was in town drive

all the "men folk" crazy and blow her cover. There were options to consider. She could leave Des Moines and make a fresh start. Find another name that drives men crazy. Mable Hotsenpepper maybe? Or she could stay here and suffer the consequences. And now the new choice. Head for Winterset, have a few "date" nights, then read the speech and get the heck out of Dodge.. or Winterset.. or maybe Iowa all together. The more she thought about it, the more the choice was obvious. A few "date nights" never hurt anyone. Maybe do two or three in one night.... She dropped the bus ticket, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door....