A Requital of Gratitude

Chapter 1: The Kansas City Search

By Samuel

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In this series opener, follow Nicholas O’Bannon and his crew through Kansas City’s Blue Hills as they search for Nellie Potts; the woman who once saved his life.

Nicholas O’Bannon a.k.a. Nick walked the familiar pavement of Kansas City’s Blue Hills district, flanked by his four most trusted companions: Casey, Keefe, Declan, and Rion. Blue Hills was known for high crime and short memories, but Nick was there on a personal debt of honor. They were searching for a widow named Nellie Potts.

Their search brought them to the precinct station on Prospect Avenue. Inside, they leaned across the counter to question Desk Sergeant Jack Scott about Nellie’s last known address, Flat 10 on the third floor of Fanning House on Blue Hills Road.

Sergeant Scott scratched his chin, studying the men. “I remember Mrs. Potts,” he said slowly, “but I haven’t seen her around in quite a while.”

A check at Fanning House yielded similar results. The building manager confirmed she had moved out two years prior, leaving no forwarding address.

Stepping out into the sharp midday sunlight, Nick paused on the station steps and turned to his men. “You all know my story. You know I owe my life to that woman. If she’s still alive, we must find her.”

Declan met his gaze directly. “Yes, Boss.” The other three nodded in quiet agreement.

Rion gestured toward the street. “Where to next? I suggest we check the local hospital. If she was ever a patient there, they might have a record of her current address.”

With no other leads, they piled into their black Ford Continental sedan. Casey plugged the hospital’s location into the GPS, turned the key, and navigated through the city traffic.

Arriving at the hospital, Casey found a parking space near the main entrance. The five men stepped into the foyer and walked toward reception. Behind the counter, a young woman in crisp white medical attire looked up. Her eyes swept over the group; five men in tailored pinstriped suits, dove-gray shirts, silk ties, and polished black shoes. Experience told her these were “Wise Guys,” but their posture was quiet and composed.

“How may I help you gentlemen?” she asked.

Nick offered a warm, polite smile. “We’re looking for a woman who may have been a patient here—or might still be. Finding her is of the utmost importance to us. Could you help us look up her record?”

Noticing their respectful tone and lack of pretense, the receptionist smiled. “What is her name? I’ll do what I can.”

“A wonderful lady by the name of Nellie Potts,” Nick said, his enthusiasm breaking through his sharp exterior.

The receptionist’s face lit up instantly. “I don’t know your connection to her, but you’re in luck. Due to rising living costs, Mrs. Potts couldn’t stay at her old apartment and moved into a local community shelter nearby. But three days ago, she was admitted here after taking a bad fall and fracturing her right arm. She’s currently in Women’s General Ward 3A.”

She checked the wall clock behind her. “Visiting hours don’t start for another two hours. I’d suggest grabbing a bite at a nearby restaurant or pub and returning at three. If you’d like to leave your names, I can let her know you’re coming.”

“That lady saved me years ago,” Nick replied softly. “I’d rather surprise her. We’ll be back at three.”

Walking back to the Continental, Nick clapped Rion on the shoulder. “Great thinking back there, Rion. I’m not a religious man, but luck had nothing to do with that; that was divine intervention. Let’s grab lunch at that gastrobar we passed on the way in.”

At O’Dowd’s Gastrobar, they settled into a booth, ordering the daily special—T-bone steaks with mashed potatoes and rich gravy—accompanied by tall pints of beer.

“So, Nick,” Declan teased, leaning back in his seat, “now that you’re becoming a religious man, does this mean you’ll be going to confession? Father O’Malley’s been waiting years to hear your list.”

Before Nick could answer, Keefe cut in with a grin. “If Nick starts confessing now, it’ll take Father O’Malley three full years just to clear the backlog—and I doubt the good father can stay awake that long.”

Soft snickers ran around the table. Nick only smiled into his drink, knowing better than to fuel their banter about his missing church attendance.

At 2:30 PM, Nick settled the bill, stood up, and buttoned his jacket. “Let’s move, gentlemen. I want to stop by a florist and a chocolate shop before we head in. She’ll always be Aunt Nellie to me.”

By 3:10 PM, the crew was guided into Women’s General Ward 3A. Among the eight beds in the ward, Nick immediately spotted her sitting in an armchair by the far right window.

He approached quietly. “Aunt Nellie… I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you. I’ve been busy getting my life back on track in another city.”

She had been gazing out the window, but at the sound of his voice, her head snapped around. A radiant smile broke across her face. “Nicholas O’Bannon! Nicky boy, is it really you? What on earth are you doing here? I thought I’d never see you again!” She looked him up and down. “Look at you… You look better than you ever have.”

Nick leaned down to embrace her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking care with her heavy arm sling. The tenderness between them was undeniable—that of a mother reunited with a long-lost son.

Declan stepped forward and gently handed her the flower bouquet and the box of chocolates.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, before looking past Nick to his four companions. “There aren’t enough chairs around this bed for a crowd like this. Let’s move down to the lounge area. I want to hear what kind of trouble you’ve been causing since I last saw you.”

She stood up and led the way down the corridor toward the lounge and cafeteria wing. They found a quiet table with six chairs. As they sat down, Nellie looked around the table with fond amusement. “Look at you—once a neighborhood scallywag, now dressed up like a lord. But who are these decent-looking gentlemen keeping company with a rogue like Nick?”

Rion leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Potts. Nicholas has told us endless stories about his guardian angel, and we wanted to hear the real version from you. Not that we don’t trust his word, he tends to dramatize things to make every small job sound like an impossible mission.”

Keefe grinned. “As for keeping company with him, we try to keep him on the straight and narrow, ma’am. Sadly, we’ve failed. He’s a hard nut to crack.”

Nellie’s eyes sparkled with delight. She turned to Nicholas. “Well, Nicky… should I give them the full story?”

Nick leaned back in his chair, a warm, nostalgic smile on his face. “Please do, Aunt Nellie. To tell you the truth, parts of it are still a blur to me anyway.”