Awakening Hearts

© 2012 by Sandy Kay. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 02/20/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5413-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5415-1 (ebk)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and places are the product of the author’s imagination. Although some characters are derived from a variety of aspects and personality traits of the many individuals the author has met or worked with throughout her life and career, the resemblance to any one particular person – living or dead – is completely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

The soft blue glow emanating from the alarm clock confirmed her fears. It was barely after 1:00am, and she was still tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Problems at work kept playing over and over again in her mind. Lately this had been happening every Sunday night. Sarah Adam had worked at the Everett Post Office for more than 25 years, and had finally worked her way up the seniority list far enough to warrant Saturdays off. Having two-day weekends for the first time since she began working 33 years ago at Dewey’s Sandwich Shop in Ashton was great, but it was turning out to be a silver cloud with a black lining. The thought of going back to work on Monday mornings wreaked havoc on her sleep.

It wasn’t that she hated her current position—quite the contrary. For the first time in her Postal career, she was actually doing something she enjoyed. For the most part. The hours and days off were definitely the best part of the job, but the position itself was diverse enough to keep her mind busy, and to make the hours pass quickly. Surprisingly enough, her fellow employees all seemed to get along quite well, and the office should have been a pleasant place to spend her workdays. Should have been.

Sarah readjusted the covers and tried to put the office out of her thoughts long enough to get at least a few hours of sleep before the alarm signaled the end of the weekend and the beginning of another week of stress and headaches. A scuffling at her bedroom door caught her attention. She threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and cautiously opened the door. Henry! You naughty little puppy! She whispered. How did you get upstairs? You’re going to wake up Livi, and she’s going to be furious with you.

Olivia Adam was 23 years old. She was Sarah’s only child. Livi had graduated from college with a degree in interior design, and was employed at Gardners Hardware Store in Disston. She was one of their in-store designers, helping customers choose their flooring, tile, cabinets, paint colors… whatever they needed in regards to interior design. Livi may have been young, but she was very good at her job. She had taken it upon herself to redecorate most of the rooms in Sarah’s home, making it a warm and comfortable place.

But, Livi was not a morning person. Henry’s presence upstairs in the middle of the night would not make her happy. So, pulling on a robe, Sarah lifted the little Lhasa into her arms and quietly carried him back downstairs. The light from the street lamp outside cast a soft glow across the living room. She sighed and sat down on the sofa, petting the puppy and looking into his big brown eyes. You’re just too cute to be angry with. She settled him into a soft blanket, and patted Gracie—Henry’s sister—on the top of her head. Then she readjusted the gate at the bottom of the stairs, and quietly crept back up to her room. Hopefully, she thought, Livi had slept through the disturbance, or Monday morning might start off on the wrong note before Sarah even got to the office. Crawling back into bed, she could hear the faint noise from the turnpike in the distance, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Marty? Do you know if Karl told Sarah to start early this morning? Lisa called across the workroom floor, looking at the five trays of letters that still needed to be sorted, and the third truck from Manchester hadn’t even arrived yet. Monday morning, and the mail volume was exceptionally high for mid-November. It probably wouldn’t have been too bad if Martin hadn’t called in sick again. These three PTF girls had their hands full trying to sort all the regular flats, parcels, and letters, and distribute the pre-sorted letters and carrier direct flats. Gene wouldn’t be in for another hour, but he was never much help in the back anyway.

I really don’t know, but I doubt it. He’s been trying to save hours everywhere he can, and we thought we had enough people to cover it this morning. Marty grabbed her work gloves, twisted her long blonde mane into a barrette, and pulled over a large metal container of parcels to start sorting. When are you people going to talk to Martin about all this sick leave he’s taking?

Lisa had heard all the complaints before, but she was just filling in as a supervisor at this office, and really didn’t want to start wars with the employees about sick leave. Besides, she had to choose her battles, and most of her energy was spent fighting with the Postmaster. Her position wasn’t one to envy. She didn’t get paid much more than the people she was supervising, and caught flak from them, as well as from above. It was hardly worth all the grief.

It wasn’t that long ago that she was a carrier herself, and she was starting to think that making this move into management wasn’t such a wise one… at least, not in this office. It was barely 6:30 in the morning and the day was already falling apart. It looked like it was going to be another one of those weeks. The carriers would start showing up in about half an hour, and things were already running late. Lisa picked up the phone and dialed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Sarah rolled over, slapping the alarm clock, but couldn’t get the beeping to stop. It seemed as though she had just fallen asleep. How could it be 7:30 already? The beeping continued as she tried to focus on the fuzzy blue numbers. It wasn’t 7:30, it was only 6:30. It took a few seconds of clarity to realize the beeping was coming from her cell phone on the dresser. She made a mental note to change that ringtone before she climbed achingly out of bed to reach for the phone. Hello?

Sarah? This is Lisa. I hope I didn’t wake you, but Martin called in sick and we really got dumped on with mail. Can you come in early and help us out? Sarah sat wearily back down on the bed as she debated the possibility of being sick herself. Nah, they would never buy that, and she didn’t have the guts to try it anyway. Sure, why not, I’m already up now, I might as well. Give me about half an hour.

Thanks. See ya soon.

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Sarah hobbled over to the light switch. Who would have thought that she’d have so many aches and pains at forty-nine? Of course, being out of shape didn’t help. Perhaps when the holidays were past, and the New Year underway, she could concentrate on eating right and exercising. Then perhaps she could get out of bed without her feet hurting, or her back aching. Then again, that could be from the lack of sleep she was getting on Sunday nights. Or, from the constant heavy lifting and all the bending she did every day at work. Or, perhaps it was a combination of all three. This getting old stuff wasn’t any fun at all.

No time for contemplation this morning. Sarah quickly made the bed before stepping quietly into the hall. Livi was working the evening shift today, so she’d have to be careful not to wake her.

Traffic was heavy for a Monday morning. Route 32 into Everett was already getting congested and it was barely past seven. Of course, Sarah wasn’t usually on the road during rush hour. Her chances of finding a parking space on the small lot at the Post Office were slim to nil too. Being right downtown may have been good for business, but parking just didn’t exist. A couple of years ago, when the grocery store at the bottom of Lake Street went up for sale, they should have moved the Post Office down there. It was only two blocks away, but it was a larger building, with a nice-sized parking lot, and even a loading dock to the rear. Of course, that would have meant a little initiative on Karl’s part to get the ball rolling, and that certainly wasn’t about to happen any time soon.

Karl Royer was the Postmaster at the Everett Post Office. A job he was not very good at, and that was being kind. Sarah’s opinion of Karl was exceptionally low. She had never met anyone so unqualified for the position they held. Karl was a bully—a big, mean, not-too-terribly-bright-bully. Over the course of her 25 years there, Sarah had worked for probably a dozen different Postmasters. Some were better than others. Most at least had a fair handle on the job… until Karl.

Sarah parked the car a few blocks away, grabbed her lunch and purse and headed toward the office. The air was cold this morning, and a little damp. She caught a whiff of wood smoke from a chimney and breathed in deeply. She knew it was a little odd, but she enjoyed the smell. It brought to mind a small stone cottage in New England, nestled in the woods, with a crackling fire in the fireplace, a cup of cocoa, and a good book. Some day perhaps she could retire to such a place, and the thought warmed her heart just a bit.

Pushing open the swinging doors on the loading dock, Sarah stepped into the office. Warm cottage thoughts vanishing, she scanned the workroom floor. Four containers of carrier-directs stood haphazardly waiting to be broken down; two wire containers full of bulk flats were blocking her path straight ahead, and two large metal containers of parcels were further off to the right. Marty was sorting parcels into the carrier hampers, Cam was sorting flats at the flat case, and Han was distributing the rural CDs. The city carriers were louder than usual this morning too, apparently worked up about yet another breach of contract by Karl.

With a sigh, Sarah walked to the break room, deposited her stuff in her locker, grabbed her coffee and walked to the time clock. It was going to be a long day.

Picking up a tray of letters, she sat down on a stool at the letter case just as Matt, the city 1 carrier, called out to Lisa. I’m going to be running over my time; I’m gonna need a 3996. Rick on city 2 chimed in. Me too. And so the daily chorus began. It was turning into a morning ritual. District was putting pressure on Karl to cut hours, and in turn, he was putting pressure on the city carriers to go ‘above and beyond’ by forcing them to do more and more work in an eight hour day. If they felt they couldn’t get everything finished in that time frame, they had to fill out a form 3996. Seeing how heavy the mail volume was this morning, and the fact that the clerks were shorthanded, the carriers were already calling out.

Sarah chuckled as she picked up a handful of letters. Good thing Karl wasn’t here yet. He always rode the carriers pretty hard, giving them a lot of grief over those stupid forms. Thank goodness she had switched over to the clerk craft all those years ago before things had gotten so crazy. She had started her Postal career as a city carrier. Things were a lot more relaxed then, but she just couldn’t deal with being out in all kinds of weather, lugging a 35 pound sack around all day. She understood how these guys felt, and had empathy for them. They were treated like pack mules now, and although Karl should have been trying to make things better for them, he just kept pushing, and pushing, and cracking the whip.

She looked around the office. Most of the carriers were in their forties. Some were in their fifties. Between them, they suffered all kinds of maladies, from knee problems, to back problems, to foot problems. They were an aging crew, and the coming years weren’t going to be kind to them.

Good morning. Did you get a wake-up call?

Sarah looked up to find Marty standing by the letter case, grinning. Something like that. Had I actually been more awake, I would have thought twice before answering the phone.

I’m glad you did. I’ve been busting my butt ever since Martin called in, and I’m not getting a lot of help from the other clerks. Look, I’m sweating.

Sarah sighed. They should have planned ahead and actually scheduled me in early. It wouldn’t have been quite as bad if I had been expecting it.

True; but can you believe Martin had the nerve to call in sick again? If I were to call in as much as he does, I’d be hauled into the office and given a letter of warning.

I know what you mean. But, I would never have the guts to call in like that; I always feel too guilty.

"Yeah, that’s what a conscience does to you. I feel guilty even when I am sick!" Marty laughed.

I think the reason they’re not reprimanding him is because they know he’s trying to use up his sick leave before he retires.

Hey, get back to work Blondie! Can you sort parcels from over here? Brandon, the city 8 carrier, elbowed Marty as he picked up some letters for his route from the letter case.

She laughed as she walked back toward the parcels. I am working! Look! Look at this sweat on my brow!

Gene pushed open the double doors on the loading dock and glanced at the time clock before heading to the break room to toss his jacket in his locker and refill his coffee. This job working at the front window was really causing him some pain in his legs and feet, and he wasn’t getting any younger. At 62, he was starting to feel every muscle in the mornings. The job involved way too much standing, and on concrete floors no less. Those mats they provided didn’t offer much relief either. Ever since Denise left to have her knee surgery, the window position was getting more and more difficult. Not only did he have to work up there alone now, but he had to go to war just to get help to cover his breaks or his lunch. Karl refused to allow one of the part-time girls to actually work Denise’s hours, and that left Gene up there to handle all the crowds by himself.

Retirement might not be such a bad idea. He’d been discussing the prospect with Martin just last week. After all, he was old enough and had worked here for more than thirty years. Up until a few years ago, he had been working in the back of the office, checking bulk mailings and entering the information into the computer. If only Danson Press hadn’t moved their operations to Manchester, he might not have had his position abolished. And he might not be stuck up here on this window full time by himself.

Of course, when Denise had been here it was different. Working at the window was a lot easier with two clerks up there all day, and… he enjoyed her company.

After his first wife left him, and he had to go through that nasty long divorce, Gene hadn’t planned on dating again for quite some time… if at all. But, even during the time that he had been married, he and Denise had always had a playful bantering relationship, and they got along fairly well. Over the course of the past couple of years since his divorce—and after some well-intentioned matchmaking on the parts of Sarah and Cam—that friendship had grown into something much more. Marriage was probably not an option, but he and Denise had moved their relationship into the ‘living together’ mode. Gene was okay with that for now; but, he sure wished she were still here working beside him. Denise was approaching her retirement date too, and had scheduled her knee surgery to coincide. For all intents and purposes, she was already gone, and the more Gene thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

Glancing around the office, he noticed that it looked like a typical Monday morning—too much mail and not enough help. Too bad the Manchester plant couldn’t control the flow of mail any better. Mondays were a nightmare, and then Tuesdays came around with barely anything. He saw Sarah sorting letters and walked over to greet her. Uh oh, looks like we had another sick call.

And where were you? How come you didn’t get a wake-up call too? Sarah already knew the answer to that question. Management didn’t call Gene in early. Or at least, they tried not to. Gene was a nice enough guy, but his gears were usually set in reverse. He had been there a few years longer than she had, and she supposed he had just decided years ago to relax and take his time. Actually, it might not be a bad idea. It seemed the harder Sarah pushed, the more work Karl seemed to find for her to do.

The same was true for Marty. Marty was younger—at least by a couple of years—bright, and extremely hard working. She was the perfect candidate to take over for Sarah when she retired in a few years. Someone had to be around to answer questions and see that the work got done… it certainly wasn’t going to be Karl, or any of his myriad of supervisors. With Karl in the front office, supervisors came and went through a revolving door. One thing Sarah admired about Marty was her spunk. Marty wasn’t afraid to say what she was thinking—that girl had guts. Sarah wasn’t that bold. She kept things inside, letting them simmer there for a while. It probably wasn’t healthy. Silent anger. Moodiness. Perhaps that’s why she was still single after all these years. This place got the best of her—certainly not the best representation of her faith either—and, some days it was all she could do to plaster a smile on her face and go on.

Finishing the letters, Sarah stood up and walked over to the boxing section. Wow, it was already after nine! Her shoulders ached from being bent over the letter case for the past two hours. Customers were already gathering in the lobby, waiting for their box mail. As she walked around the corner, she saw Dane sorting the last handful of flats into the far left box section. He grumbled as he saw her approach. It’s about time! I thought I was going to have to finish this all by myself.

Dane had been a carrier for most of his career. But he had been plagued with