The Hands of Fate: A Story of Love Lost and Found

Their hands intertwined and neither wanted to let go. Their eyes met, both searching for the piece of each other that was missing. She pulled her hands away, and he reluctantly did the same. She rose from the table and left him alone. He wanted to call her back, for her to stay wrapped in his arms forever, but she hadn't even looked back.

Toli, a black lab-rotty mix was napping in the only sunspot that Sam Jacob's apartment possessed. Sam wasn't home. The federal prosecutor had never taken a sick day and he wasn't about to any time soon. Jacobs was strong willed and his perseverance had landed him the job after starting his career as a PI. His success on and off the job escalated from there. His jet black hair and striking features made him quite an object with the ladies. There was only one he loved, however, and she was gone. Now he spent his time alone working into all hours of the night. When he wasn't working he was at the gym or running Toli around Pacific Park.

Pacific was the kind of park that attracted people of all ages. Children played along the edge of the water, teenagers walked their dogs and had picnics with their friends in the shade of the trees. The older people walked quietly, admiring the view or sitting on benches feeding the birds. Hardly ever did fights break out, muggings occur, or any other type of crime for that matter. It was a nice place to wind down after a day of arresting drug lords and petty thieves. If it was any different, Sam was sure he'd never go there.

Arriving home from work, Sam checked his answering machine. He had no messages. He grabbed Toli's leash off the counter and the dog's ears perked up. After hooking her leash to her collar, the pair headed to the park.

"Excuse me sir, do you have the time?" A young girl about sixteen asked Sam.

He glanced down at his watch. "It's f-," he stopped. The resemblance was uncanny. She looked like the woman he had loved long ago. But it wasn't possible, too much time had passed and this girl was too young. She was dressed in denim capris with a pink t-shirt and her chestnut hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. Her eyes sparkled in the setting sun and her gorgeous smile played tricks with his mind. "Tori," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, are you all right?" the girl asked, unsure what to make of his peering glance. Looking again at his watch, "Four fifteen," he said turning to walk away from the face that had caused him great pain. Maybe he was crazy, he thought, she only looked like Tori.

Ana Del Rossi rode her bike out of the park as fast as she could, not sure what to make of the encounter she had just had with that dark-haired man. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she had heard him mutter her mother's name.

At five o'clock, Victoria Del Rossi was getting worried. Her daughter was half an hour late and she hadn't called.

"Stupid cell phone," Ana muttered, throwing her phone in her book bag. Her batteries had died. She'd ran into a friend after leaving the park, and the two had stopped at a coffee shop and lost track of the time. Ana had met Charley Matthews at the beginning of the school year after Ana's mother had found a job back in the town she grew up in. Ana and Charley had become fast friends, spending almost all their time together. It was like they had known each other all their lives. "I better go. Mom's probably worrying," Ana said to her friend.

"I'll ride with you," Charley said, "After what you told me about that freak in the park."

"Good idea," The girls paid for their caramel frappacinos and headed out the door.

"Hey! Where's my bike?" Ana exclaimed. Her red mountain bike was missing. She'd saved a fortune to pay for it and now it was gone. The lock had been cut. "How did this happen? Oh, what a perfect ending to a perfect day," Ana continued, "Mom's gonna kill me." The girls looked around for the bike, but it was long gone.

Victoria was about to call the police, when she saw her daughter and friend, Charley, walking up the block. She noticed the girl had no bike and was looking a bit dismayed.

"Mom, somebody stole my bike!"

A police officer arrived at their doorstep a few hours later. He didn't seem a bit interested in the robbery itself as he was with Victoria. "You know ma'am, things like this happen all the time," he said, " It's very rare the bike will be recovered, but we'll keep a lookout for it."

"Thank you so much, officer," she looked at his badge, "Wilkes," Victoria replied as she closed the door on the officer.

Sam Jacobs was focusing his attention on half a dozen kilos of cocaine he'd just recovered in an undercover sting. It had gone well and now the man who, "didn't have nothing to do with nothing," was sitting in a cell alongside his buddies. He'd serve his time and once he got out, he'd go back to his life of crime. It was a sad cycle that Sam didn't see an end to, but at least they'd be off the street for enough time to discourage more young kids from getting in the trade. He hoped. The only thing he hated about his job was the children who lived in the ghettos. The young children whose mothers tried their best to protect them only lasted as long as their innocence. There were of course exceptions to that rule. In fact, a young man who grew up in the very same neighborhood where Sam had just made the drug bust had recently joined the force. Jerome Porter was a young punk who'd wrestled his way through poverty and drugs to make something of himself. He could be a diligent hard worker when there was someone looking over his shoulder, but when he was alone evidence sometimes became "misplaced." Sam had his suspicions. There just wasn't any way to prove it. He hated to admit it, but once a 'street,' always a 'street,' rang true more often than not.

The next day, Jerome Porter was walking downtown on his lunch break when he spotted a bike lying on the ground in an alley. Since no one was around he picked it up and rode it back to the station. Most of the other cops were out of the station so he went unnoticed into the back door with the bike. When he left a short time later, a kilo of cocaine was missing.

"I can't go anywhere, now," Ana whined to Charley. "I'm not even supposed to be on the phone. It's terrible!" She was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling soaking up her isolation. A soft rock floated from her stereo and she hummed along to the beat. Her mother's footsteps in the hallway were almost inaudible, but Ana heard them just in time. She quickly said goodbye to Charley and picked up the scrapbook she had been working on. Victoria opened her daughter's bedroom door. Ana had decorated one side of it with quotes and the other side with pictures and ticket stubs from all the places she'd been. Inside her room were paintings and pictures. One was a picture of a man whom she hoped to meet one day. It was her father. He had died in an auto accident before Ana was born. Kindergarten began play dates and play dates meant going to other kids' houses. That's when Ana asked why she didn't have a daddy. Seeing how it upset her mom, she hadn't brought him up since. Victoria did, however, give Ana a picture of him taken while the couple was vacationing at the beach. They were happy, Victoria had said, and in love, and that was all that mattered. What Victoria didn't tell her daughter, was that her father was still alive, hopefully, and that was why she was back in her hometown. She hoped to find the man she had left behind almost seventeen years ago. If she found him, she hoped he'd forgive her.

Wilkes was driving back to the station after lunch. He noticed a man on a red bike, closer inspection revealed that the man was Jerome Porter. Wilkes didn't like him, he was sure that Porter was bad news. He turned his attention to the bike. Something about it set off a bell in his head. Red bike, he thought, why is it so familiar? Then he remembered the gorgeous woman looking for the bike. He drove alongside Jerome and rolled down his window.

"Hey Porter," he called, "Great job finding that bike."

Jerome looked surprised. "No problem," he said. "I was just taking it back to the station."

"No need, bro, no need. I'll take it off your hands." He stopped the car. Jerome casually got off the bike and stuck it in Wilkes' trunk.

"Thanks a lot, buddy," Wilkes said as Jerome started walking away. He didn't look back. Maybe she'll be so happy, she'll invite me for a drink, Wilkes thought as he drove to the Del Rossi residence.

Victoria opened the door to Officer Wilkes. He had a red mountain bike at his side. "Is this your daughter's bike Mrs. Del Rossi?" He asked, hoping for a correction.

"I'm not married," she replied and quickly turned into the house and called for her daughter. Ana came down the stairs. "Am I in trouble?" She asked and then saw her bike. "My bike! Where did you find it?"

"No need to thank me," Wilkes said. "What's wrong?" He asked the downcast Ana.

"It's broken," she said. "Look." The lower bar on the frame of the bike was loose. She wiggled it and the bar completely fell off. A white powder fell onto the ground.

"If I didn't know better," Wilkes said, "I'd say that was cocaine."

The bar fell to the ground with a clang. Wilkes walked to his car and pulled out a chemical that identifies the drug. Mixing it with the white powder revealed that Wilkes' suspicions were true.

"You understand I'm going to have to take this. Someone will be over later to file a report." Wilkes had said before he left.

"Jerome Porter, you're under arrest," Sam Jacobs rattled off Jerome's offenses and read him his rights. He recognized the owner of what was now valuable evidence. After locking up Porter, he drove to a store and then to Victoria's home. It had been a long time, and he had forgiven her years ago. He just wanted to see her again, to tell her she was the only one. He hoped things hadn't changed since that fateful day when she had left him alone. She had explained that her family was moving, that her father had gotten a job offer, half a dozen excuses rattled out of her mouth. He didn't know what the real reason had been until he saw Ana.

Holding a brand new red mountain bike, Sam knocked on Tori's door. Ana opened it. She recognized him as the man she had seen at the park.

"Who is it, honey?" Victoria asked and then she saw him. She gasped. "Sam."

Realization struck Ana.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything." He let go of Ana's new bike and Victoria walked toward him. They could explain things later. Their hands met yet again, only this time she wouldn't let go.