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Denim and Lace
An historical mystery of
first love, timeless love
June 6, 2001
The foreman was the first to regain his senses. This was a crisis situation. He knew what to do. He jumped into the hole. For a split second there he had thought that his mind was playing tricks on him because the girl had appeared to be literally fading away. When he touched her body, however, it was very much intact. He spoke to himself silently: Brent, keep your head on straight; check her out the way they taught you. His internal dialogue calmed him. He proceeded to check her vitals and look for abrasions. Her condition was critical.
Taking care not to budge her an inch, he glared at his crew who were still standing there looking at him, gaping and mute. Brent barked out to his top man, “Todd, go to my truck and call 911 on my cellular.”
Todd returned and reported that the paramedics were on their way. When he heard Todd’s voice, he relinquished his nurturing hold on the girl for a moment. He looked up and said, “Todd, thanks. I can always count on you.”
All of the first aid and CPR classes in the world could not have prepared him for what he was experiencing now. He had been through countless construction mishaps but never something like this. He was doing all he could to hold himself together and was comforted knowing that the paramedics were on their way with assistance. Feeling that he finally had the situation under control, he grinned up at Todd for acknowledgment. He was not rewarded with a validating response. On the contrary, Todd’s eyes were huge with fright.
“Hey, man, I mean Brent, turn around. What’s happening with that babe?”
Brent reacted instantly. The girl again appeared to be fading away. Within seconds, she was gone. He was left sitting in the trench alone, staring at the ground where she had been laying. All that remained of her was a gold chain with a broken clasp.
“Oh my God...” Brent muttered. He picked up the necklace which must have snapped when she fell. He held it tightly for a second before putting it in his pocket. The delicate piece of jewelry was the only proof of what had just happened, the only proof that he and his crew had not been seeing things.
The paramedics arrived on the scene to find a stunned crew of construction workers hovering like idiots around their dazed foreman who was sitting in a ditch. Brent tried to speak, and when he was finally able he mumbled, “I think we need to call the police.”
The paramedic in charge ignored him, droning on about false alarms and other stupid calls like this that he had answered over the years.
Brent spit in disgust and shouted, “CALL THE POLICE!”
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