Much thanks to Neuroparenthetical for his excellent editing skills. The story is far more interesting because of his help!

The infamous George Anderson tale has piqued interest at a record rate. On Literotica, over 100 other authors have taken a stab at an alternate ending or sequel. The premise -- celebrity steals a loving faithful wife right out from under the husband's nose while out at a club with a group of their friends, is ludicrous. It's outrageous. GA's talented writing; his every word wreaks havoc with our senses. As the scene unfolds, you feel the endless gut punches, and that's the hallmark of a world class-writer. The first time I read it, I couldn't even go to sleep that night.

As mentioned, many other top-shelf writers have taken a stab at their own ending. The problem I have had in reading all of them is simply, "how do two sane, loving people get through something like this? Is it even possible?" Well, the original premise dictates it is. As we know, the story came about as a result of a real life conversation. All of the so-called friends in the story told the husband he shouldn't make a big deal about it. It was only one night, and it was the famous {use any celeb name}. Moreover, in real life, couples sometimes talk about their own celebrity 'hall passes'. We are a society driven by fame and fortune.

To be honest, I'm pretty slow on the draw. Every time I think I have a coherent, unique ending some other author beats me to it. So, here's one that's been circulating in my head for the longest time.

Anytime I add to someone else's story, I follow these guidelines: first, I read and re-read the story so I can capture the spirit of the characters as the original author intended them to be - how they act, think and behave. I do not take license with someone else's work, just so I can make it end the way I want it to. We leave that to the anonymous commenters. Finally, I always search the original story for 'crumbs' left by the original author as clues and hints, or to set the scene for other writers. I believe I found a big one here, that others missed. You'll see! I hope you enjoy my meager attempt at another version of this remarkable tale...

I've included 'the conversation' and the beginning of the original story in italics up until I veer off course.

I urge you to read the original story by George Anderson https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks first.

The conversation:

Many years ago, I was out of town at a conference. About 20 of us, half men and half women, almost all married, went out to a watering hole one evening to decompress. The local fauna were hitting pretty heavily on the women at our table. We guys were wincing at the crudity of the locals' attempts, while the women laughed and rejected them. One particularly bad approach drew the comment, "He's lucky I like this beer, otherwise he'd be wearing it."

"So what if it had been [famous football player: call him Jocko] saying that to you? Would he have scored?" another woman asked with a flirty little smirk in her voice.

"Hell, yes!" "Absolutely!" It was clearly unanimous.

"What if it meant, you know..."

"Especially if it meant that!" The women's laughter was genuine; the guys' was a little forced.

Understand, these women weren't dogs who couldn't get a date: they ranged from pretty to downright hot. They were in their late twenties and early thirties, and dressed for a night out.

"Um, what would you tell your husband?" one of the guys asked hesitantly.

"Um, why would I tell my husband?" The reply was instantaneous, and greeted with laughter and head-nodding from the women.

"What if your husband was here?" the guy persisted. We could all hear the anxiety in his voice.

One of the women leaned forward with her elbows on the table and looked him dead in the eye. I remembered her from lunch; she'd been showing off pictures of her husband and their perfectly adorable five-year-old girl. "I would tell him that he knows how much I love him, and he knows I'll always come back to him, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity, and I'll see him sometime tomorrow." She spoke calmly and kindly but with determination. None of us could doubt that she meant exactly what she said.

Several guys' jaws dropped considerably; I know mine was one.

"No, you wouldn't," the guy next to me muttered. The woman looked at him pityingly.

"Yes, I would, and I think every woman here would do the same."

"You might leave with him tonight, but if I was your husband, you sure as hell wouldn't see me tomorrow." He was as serious as she was.

Another woman tried to fix things. "Listen, I love my husband, I wouldn't trade him for anything. Jocko doesn't mean anything to me and never will, and he probably wouldn't even remember my name the next morning. But spending a night with him, just one night out of our whole marriage, would be something I could remember for the rest of my life. An event, you know, with a capital E? It would have nothing to do with the way I feel about my husband. Afterward, I would go home to the man I love, and everything would be like it was before."

A tense silence fell on the table. "Well, that shows us married guys where we stand, doesn't it?" one guy muttered.

"Come on, guys, don't be that way. It's not that big a deal."

The party broke up pretty quickly after that, as people left by ones and twos to wander quietly back to the conference hotel. I have no idea whether the women at that table were typical. I meant to ask my wife about it when I got home, but didn't get up the nerve. I still haven't. I'm not sure I want to know the answer, anyway.

February sucks.

It always does, unless you live in one of those places that doesn't have winter. Every February sucks, but that particular February out-sucked all the others put together, and the March that followed was worse.

The Worst February Ever started with two weeks when we literally didn't see the sun. Grey overcast, high temperatures in the 20s and an occasional inch or two of snow. Everyone was looking forward to Valentine's Day as if it was their hope of salvation. It fell on Thursday that year, and so many people were taking the next day off that the editorial writers were saying we might as well shut the whole city down on February 15 th .

Linda and I had big plans for Valentine's Day, just like everyone else. Like everyone else, we awoke to two inches of new snow, with more falling rapidly. By mid-afternoon we were both sent home from work while we could still get somewhere: the whole city was shutting down. By the time we should have been getting dressed for our night on the town, all the roads were closed to non-essential traffic so we changed into our cozy sweats instead. The great Valentine's Day date, the dinner-movie-dancing one that was supposed to make up for the previous two weeks of unrelieved beastliness, was frozen pizza and "Frozen" with the kids. The only dancing we did was dancing Emma (age six) and Tommy (age four) up to their bedrooms amid protests of "You know there won't be any school tomorrow."

After the kids were asleep, I sighed as I handed Linda her glass of wine. "I'm sorry, Linda," I said. "This isn't how it was supposed to turn out."

"It's okay, Jim. It isn't your fault, and it was fun looking forward to what you had planned for us. Besides, if nothing else, I got a new party dress out of it."

"Which I haven't seen yet."

"You know the rule: you don't see it until you take me out in it." I looked at her, trying to imagine what she had bought, and how she would look in it. Linda isn't classically beautiful, but she has an innate sense of style: everything she wears not only looks great on her, it reflects who she is. She started making her own clothes in middle school, and still does from time to time when she can't find "just the right thing" in the stores. She makes many of Emma's dress-up clothes, too. Anyone lucky enough to see her when she's dressed up would think she's the most attractive woman in the room, but would trouble figuring out why, because there would be hotter women there. They would be thinking, "There's just something about her, I'd like to get to know her," not so much "Boy, I'd give a month's salary to get a piece of that." I saw that when I first met her, and I've had no reason to change my mind. I looked at the diamond I'd placed on her finger almost ten years before, as it flashed in the firelight.

"Thank you for saying yes, Linda. I love you." I raised my glass. "To us."

"I love you, too. To us," she responded with a smile. We sat for a moment, comfortably silent.

"Linda, I'm sorry I've been so touchy these last few days. It's nothing you or the kids have done, and you deserve better from me. It's just this damn February, and this..."

"I know, Jim. I'm sorry, too; I've been just as bad. I think the hibernating bears have the right idea. We really should be sleeping until spring. We've all been on edge, even the kids. The people at my work are a lot worse than you, though. What about your work?"

"The same."

"Well, look at it this way, Jim. We have each other, we have the kids, we have our home, we know where our next meal is coming from..."

"Yeah, Wendy's."

She laughed. Our first date was a running joke between us. I had met Linda in college. My parents had had to cut off my support to pay my dad's health bills, and I refused to take out loans, so after tuition and books I literally had no money. Linda was a little better off, and had offered to treat me or go Dutch, but I wasn't having any of that, so I was saving up to take her someplace nice. She had told me I was silly and said the object was to spend time together and get to know each other, and we could do that just as easily at Wendy's. So that's where we had gone, and the rest was history. We've moved up in class since then, but we still get Wendy's now and then for old times' sake.

"Seriously, though," I said. "How do people get through times like this if they don't have love?"

"Sometimes they don't." Linda shuddered. A high school boyfriend of hers had killed himself with booze and pills on Valentine's Day night a couple of years before.

"Well, we do, and we will." I put down my glass and took both of her hands in mine. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my beloved husband." We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then decided we really should move this to the bedroom.

We ended up getting the three-day weekend the editorial writers thought we should have, courtesy of about two feet of snow instead of the predicted eight inches. Everything was closed, of course, but hardly anyone lost power, and enough people had snowmobiles that anyone who really had to get somewhere could. All right, so the kid from up the street probably didn't have any places he had to be or any other excuse for making all that racket and throwing rooster tails everywhere, but he ran out of gasoline Saturday afternoon and his parents wouldn't give him any more. He didn't bother anyone after that.

Our kids, of course, were ecstatic. Mom and Dad were both home all day, there was snow to play in and pizza to eat and movies to watch, not to mention no school. What more could they want? Linda and I were pretty happy about the situation, too. There was no pressure to be anywhere or do anything, and we could enjoy our family to our hearts' content. Food wasn't a worry: Linda and I both grew up around here, so we always made sure we had plenty in advance with some to share, just in case. Emma and Tommy tired themselves out enough that they didn't even make a fuss about going to bed, and slept like logs. Which allowed Linda and me to content our hearts in ways for which we usually had to send the kids out of the house. There were only a couple of things wrong that weekend, as far as I was concerned. We had hundreds of movies in the house, but the kids would only watch one. Frozen. Over and over and over again. Okay, it's a sweet little story, and has some good songs, but come on! And Linda still wouldn't model the dress for me, or even let me see it.

"Taking me out in it means out, not in," she said, with a flirty little smile.

"What if I promise to take you out of it? Is that close enough?"

"Nice try, but nope." She wouldn't budge, darn it.

The real world returned early Sunday evening when the plows came through our neighborhood. School and work were on for Monday, and there was sighing from both kids and kids at heart as we got ready. Just before bedtime, Emma and Tommy marched into the living room, freshly scrubbed and in their night clothes. Big sister was the spokesperson, of course, standing as straight and tall as she could.

"Mommy, Daddy, this weekend was the best ever! Thank you for playing with us, and watching our movie with us, and all being together for three whole days in a row. We love you." With that, Daddy's girl climbed into my lap and Mommy's boy into Linda's. After giving us the sweetest kid-hugs in the world, they switched parents and did it again. I looked over at Linda and her eyes were as wet as mine.

"We love you, too," I managed to croak out. "We're so glad that you're our kids."

Linda and I didn't do anything extraordinary that night, unless making sweet love until we felt like we merged into one being counts. We couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces the next morning, and neither could the kids. Beastly February settled back in, though, and the three-day weekend faded into memory. Even our normally even-tempered kids were quarrelsome.

Linda and I had just collapsed against each other in the sofa in the living room after finally getting Emma and Tommy down for the night, when Linda's phone rang. I growled and muttered something.

"It's Dee, I have to pick up," she said apologetically. We had a loose circle of five couples that we hung out or went out with from time to time. We had all met as married couples, so there were no uncomfortable "back when you were single" moments. We all had the same ideas about fidelity: namely, you just did it, it wasn't questionable or negotiable. That way when we went out, we could dance with each other's spouses if we wanted some variety, and know we were safe. We were closest to Dee and her husband Dave; she and Linda were almost best friends. Linda made an "I'll keep this short" gesture as she answered the phone.

I could see Linda getting more excited as she talked with Dee. She was all but glowing when she ended the call and plopped herself into my lap.

"So what was that all about?" My face couldn't help reflecting her smile.

"Well, dear husband," she smirked at me, "I know you think this horrible February has gone on just about long enough."

"I'll drink to that," I said, reaching for my glass of wine. Linda seized my wrist to stop me, and firmly placed my hand on her slender waist. Much better idea.

"Well, we've been bemoaning the fact that not only is this the worst February in the history of the human race, we have to put up with an extra day of it."

That didn't add up with the smile on her face. I told her so.

"That's because Dee had this wonderful idea. The extra day of horribleness is on a Friday. What if we all got together, got sitters for the kids, had a really nice dinner, then some dancing at a good club, and then had hotel rooms for the night? That way we could get a little bit crazy and not worry about driving home, and we would end this horrid month right."

"What about getting from the club back to the hotel? Wouldn't we have to drive?" I'm always the guy who asks what can possibly go wrong with a plan. I know it's not fun, but I really can't help it. I'm like that naturally, and it's reinforced by the job I do.

"That's the best part, Jim. You know the Madison uptown? We've eaten there, remember? There's a dance club some of Dave's co-workers go to in the next block over. They'll have a live band Friday night, and there's no cover if you ate at the Madison! Oh, and Phil and Jane have already asked Mrs. Porter to take their kids overnight, and they say she's fine with ours, too."

"Hmmm, I have to think about this..." I didn't really, but I was hoping that if I stalled, Linda would use one of her patented, guaranteed-not-to-fail Female Persuasion Methods to convince me. Instead, she seized a sofa pillow and bashed me over the head with it.

"Ow! Okay, I've thought. Let's do this. But there's one condition."

"What's that?" Linda was looking at me suspiciously. I took her sweet face between my hands, and looked into her blue eyes.

"You wear the dress you bought for Valentine's Day, that I still haven't seen."

"Your wish is my command." Her voice was husky and her eyes were smoky and she was irresistible and I wasn't interested in resisting anyway.

It was blue. The dress. I can't describe what kind of blue it was; guys can only see eight colors anyway. True fact. All I can tell you is whatever blue it was, it made her blue eyes look like they would glow in the dark. It was long sleeved and high necked, and the skirt came below her knees, but it was anything but a granny dress. The bottom of the skirt was flared, and rippled just enough as she walked to attract attention. When she danced, it would flirt all on its own. The smooth, tight but not too tight, fabric made you want to run your hands all over it, as it concealed and displayed the slim, womanly shape beneath. Linda smiled as she slowly processed down the stairs to where I waited for her, dumbstruck and gaping.

"Dear Jim," she said, softly and sweetly. She closed my mouth with a gentle finger under my chin. I swallowed, but still couldn't speak.

"It's still just me, the same old me as always. You don't have to flatter me, though I admit I love it when you do."

I shook my head and found my voice. "You don't understand. You don't know just how amazing you look. You..." Words failed me. I took her slim, long-fingered hands in both of mine, bowed over them, and kissed them. I looked up to see her eyes shining and moist, and saw the slightest tremble in her smile. I nodded. She understood.

The ten of us met at the restaurant. It was crowded on a Friday night, but we had reserved a large enough table that all ten of us could eat together. We laughed and talked and enjoyed a great meal, happy in each other's company and glad that February was finally ending. Linda was the most attractive woman in the room, and I must have told her so a half dozen times. I touched her arm or her shoulder or her hand as often as I could find a reasonable excuse. She returned the favor and smiled into my eyes. This was going to be a night to remember.

We checked into our rooms before we headed over to the club. Neither Linda nor I handles alcohol very well, so I usually drew designated driver duties. I was glad I wouldn't have to do that tonight. Not that I minded; my friends' safety was important to me, but I was looking forward to having Linda to myself as soon as possible. That seemed to be her idea, too. She excused herself to go to our room alone for a few minutes, and had her suggestive little "I'm gonna get you so good" smile on her face when she came back.

"We don't really have to spend very long at the club, do we?" she whispered to me as we walked. I knew how much Linda enjoyed dancing with our friends, so she might as well have said "I'd better not have to wait too long before we're alone together, preferably naked." I grinned right back at her.

"Your call, babe." She punched my upper arm lightly, then wrapped her hands around it and hung on.

We'd reserved a table for ten at the club, and it was a good thing we had. It seems a lot of other people were busy forgetting February, but they weren't too busy to notice the five women in our group.

"You're attracting a lot of attention, babe," I whispered to Linda. "You're the most attractive woman in the room, as usual."

"Oh, you." She looked up at me, lightly pressing a soft breast into my arm. "You don't have to say those things, even though I like hearing them."

"But I do have to," I responded. "Truth is truth, after all. You can't have opinions about truth." Yeah, I know that's faulty logic, but neither of us cared just then. She got the point, and glowed even brighter.

Neither Linda nor I is a great dancer, but we don't disgrace ourselves, either. We just don't care that much: we're out there to enjoy each other, not to provide entertainment. So I danced with the love of my life, with occasional breaks for hot wings and a drink. I had gone to replenish the wings; when I came back, Dave was asking Linda to dance. I heard her response.

"I'd love to, Dave, and I would another time, but I want to make tonight special for Jim and me. I'm only dancing with him tonight."

Was I proud? Happy? You'd better believe it. I distributed the wings and whispered into Linda's ear.

"So is it time to leave yet?"

"Right after you brought a fresh plate of wings? What are you thinking? We'll both need our energy for what I have planned." She gave me that look again, and held my hand under the table.

A few minutes later, the band took a break. In the relative quiet, we could hear loud laughter from another table, and turned to look.

"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil was craning around me to see.

"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on our city's football team. Unlike many others on the team, he made his year-round home here. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good works and good nature.

"It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee put in. Linda and I both knew who he was, but we weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. We let the conversation wash over us, holding hands under the table.

"Hey, you two, get a room!" Linda and I looked at each other. We hadn't even been kissing. Well, not really kissing, anyway. My feeding her wings (so she wouldn't get sauce on her new dress, of course) didn't count. Besides, we'd already gotten a room. We were saved from further embarrassment when the band started again.

"Shall we dance here, or upstairs?" I whispered to Linda. Before she could reply, Jane interrupted.

"Look! He's coming this way!" Sure enough, Marc LaValliere had left his table and was heading for ours. I was amused by the reaction of the women at our table. Four of them primped and strutted, all but saying "pick me, pick me!" If you think a woman can't strut while she's sitting down, you have a lot to learn. Linda looked downward, and held my hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" He was standing behind Linda's left shoulder, holding his hand out to her.

I felt Linda gasp as she dropped my hand as if it were a hot potato. I watched dumbstruck as she turned her back to me, gave Marc her right hand (it almost disappeared in his big paw) and gracefully rose from her chair.

"Hey, man, now my feelings are hurt. I thought she was just dancing with you tonight." Dave smiled as he needled me.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," I groused.

"Relax, Jim. It's just a dance." Jane tried to soothe me. I tried to believe her, but I couldn't help having a bad feeling about this.

The band played a couple of fast songs, and our whole table watched them dance. So did everyone else in the room. Marc was good, far better than I was, and Linda was clearly enjoying herself. Her partner and her dress combined to show her off to perfection.

"Don't they look great together? Come on, Jim, let's join them," Dee invited, clearly trying to distract me.

"Thanks, but no."

The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms, fitting perfectly as though she belonged there. He was good at that, too. Lots of practice, I'll bet, I thought to myself sourly. Marc said something to Linda; she smiled sweetly as she responded. He wasn't doing anything I could legitimately object to. He didn't dance any closer to her than I danced with Dee or Jane; his hands didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to.

Another slow song, a ballad this time. I could see the band leader watching my wife and her partner, taking his cues from them. Marc was smiling as he held Linda in his arms; he was clearly pleased with whatever was going on. I'd seen enough. I rose from my chair, and felt Jane's hand on my arm.

"Wait, Jim. Let her have this. Don't ruin it for her."

I jerked my arm free, and then I looked at Linda's face. She clearly wanted to be exactly where she was, and nowhere else. She did not want any interference from me. I slumped back into my chair. Finally, the song ended. Marc nodded at the band leader, who started a faster song. He and Linda left the dance floor, smiling at each other, but not touching, not even holding hands. Linda gave him a last brilliant smile as she turned toward our table and Marc turned toward his.

The difference between a woman's best smile and her second-best smile isn't much. Unless you know the woman well, you probably wouldn't notice it at all. As Linda neared our table and our eyes met, her best smile faded to her second-best. I knew then that we had a problem.

"I keep telling you that you're the most attractive woman in here," I whispered in her ear as I seated her. I reached for her hand, and held it in both of mine. "Is it time to take the next dance back to our room?"

For just the tiniest moment, I could have sworn Linda was afraid. Her eyes widened and I could feel her hand trembling. She covered the moment quickly, though, and looked away from me, across the table.

"I'm sorry, everyone, I just have to go to the restroom right now. Linda, come with me?" Dee's voice could be heard far beyond our table. I was too preoccupied to wonder why she had to broadcast this to the room at large. Linda looked at me apologetically.

"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too." She rose and left, without answering my question. Of course, the conversation immediately turned to why no woman who is out with a group can possibly go to the restroom by herself. I had just started to wonder why my friends were working so hard to keep the conversation going on that topic, when Dee came back. Alone.

"Where's Linda? Is she okay?" I practically shouted.

"Relax, Jim," Dee said, smiling. "Linda is fine, she just has something to do. You don't need to worry about her. She is a grownup woman, you know." Upon which my friends started teasing me about how much I worried about Linda. It's true, I did; she worried about me the same way. I put up with it for about five minutes, and when Linda still hadn't returned, I'd had enough. I got up and headed for the bar, taking an empty plate with me as an excuse. I approached one of the female bartenders.

"Excuse me, but my wife went to the restroom about fifteen minutes ago, and hasn't come out. She never takes that long. Could you please go, or send someone, to be sure she's all right?"

The bartender gave me a dubious look. The plate in my hand gave me an idea.

"The wings are great, and she likes spicy food, but every now and then she gets a reaction. Really, I just want to know she's all right. Her name is Linda. Here, let me show you a picture of her." I put down the plate and pulled up Linda's picture on my phone. The bartender was beginning to look somewhat sympathetic when there was a voice at my elbow.

"She's all right, you don't need to check on her." Dee was addressing the bartender. "Everything's fine. I'll take care of this." She placed a five on the counter. I wondered why the bartender looked at me with what seemed like sympathy as she pocketed the bill.

"What... why... but she went there with you? because you asked her?" I was completely confused.

"Jim, she's not in the restroom. She has left the club."

"Left? Without me? Why? What's the matter? Why didn't she tell me? Where did she go? Is she all right?" I still didn't get it.

"Let's go to the end of the bar where there's some privacy." I just went where Dee dragged me. It was quieter in the dark corner at the end of the bar. Dee looked me in the eye.

"Jim, Linda loves you. She loves you and the children more than anything else in the world, and she always will, and you know it. But she is spending tonight with Marc."

I stood there with my mouth open, looking stupid as my world ended. Pictures whirled madly through my mind, or what was left of it. Linda at the top of the stairs in her beautiful blue dress. Linda at dinner; Linda at the club; Linda as we fed wings to each other. Linda in Asshole's arms. My anger rose.

"So on what was supposed to be our special night, she left me for some asshole jock." I glared at Dee as I growled the words.

"Jim, she hasn't left you. She'll come home to you tomorrow, and you'll have plenty of other special nights together."

"She didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face that she was leaving me. She just snuck out the back door."

"Jim, listen to me. She hasn't left you..."

"Well, if she hasn't left me, then where the hell is she? She sure isn't with me now, is she?" I was getting loud, and didn't care who heard me.

"Please settle down, people are looking at you. Listen, I know this hurts for you, but it's just tonight. Linda knows, we all know, that you're the only man for her and you always will be. You're the good guy."

"Yeah, and we all know where the good guy finishes, don't we?"

"Jim, it isn't like that. You're making way too big a deal out of this. It's only tonight, then she'll come back to you tomorrow and everything will be just like it was before." I snorted at her. If she really believed that shit, nothing I could say would make any difference anyway.

"So, Friend, what was your role in all this? You didn't really need to go to the restroom, did you? My wife gave you the signal, right? She told you to stall me and keep me out of the way long enough for her and Asshole to make their getaway?"

"Yes, she asked me to do that, because she didn't want you to embarrass yourself by making a scene while Marc was here. She also asked me to make sure you remembered that she loves you, and she will always come home to you."

Yeah, I'd remember exactly how much she loved me tonight, for a long time to come. "More like she didn't want me to embarrass her as she walked away from her husband to spend the night with an asshole jock. I don't suppose it occurred to you, Friend, to remind her that she had a husband and a marriage, and she might lose them over this?"

Dee looked me in the eye. "No, it didn't, because I know she won't lose you over this. You're too good a man to let that happen. I told her how lucky she is. She's lucky because the man that every woman in the room wanted, wanted her; but she's even luckier that she has a husband who loves her enough to get past his hurt feelings and not make this a bigger deal than it should be. You know she'll be willing to do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to make it up to you."

"What if it isn't possible to make it up to me? What if there is no way to make this right?"

"Jim, I know how much you love Linda, and how much she loves you. This doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just one night, a one-time experience, compared to all the years and all the love you two have together. It isn't a big deal, unless you make it one. I know she'll come home to you, and I know eventually, you'll be fine." Dee spoke gently but confidently. It was all I could do not to grab the stupid woman and shake her until her teeth rattled for spouting such nonsense. She must be living in some sort of alternate universe if that's what she really thought.

"So if Asshole had picked you, as you wanted him to, you'd have done the same thing?"

"I would." She flung her answer into my face.

"Does Dave know that?"

"No, and he doesn't need to, because I don't think it will ever happen," she said softly.

"Maybe I should tell him."

"Jim, please don't. Don't think that way. I know you're hurting, but that won't help. Please come back to the table. Let us take your mind off it for a while. You haven't danced a single dance with me all night, you know." She smiled invitingly at me.

"I wanted to dance with my wife, but thanks to you and her and Asshole, that doesn't seem to be an option, now does it?" I turned my back on Dee and stalked back to our table.

The talk at the table stopped abruptly when I appeared. The averted eyes told the tale: all of our friends now knew that my wife and Asshole were at that very moment making a cuckold of me.

"Uh, Jim, are you going to be okay?" Dave asked hesitantly after he seated Dee. I wanted to tell him what Dee had said and ask if he would be okay, but I couldn't force the words past my throat. I guess I hadn't gotten over being the good guy yet. I would have to work on that.

"It depends on what you mean by okay." There were a couple of nervous giggles.

"I mean, yeah, that was a shitty thing to do, but you two are going to make it, aren't you? You're not going to divorce Linda over this, are you?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't," I responded coldly. There was a gasp around the table.

"Why are you all acting surprised?" I continued. "We all know how we feel about cheating: once and done. We established that long ago."

"But Jim, it's Marc LaValliere..." Dee interposed.

"So what? I don't care who's fucking her. If it isn't me, that's that."

"Jim, what about your kids? We all know how much you love them, and how much they need you. Think of them before you do anything." Jane's kids were about the same age as mine and were best buds.

"You mean, like my wife is thinking about them right now?"

"Well, that's why you got a sitter, so you wouldn't have to think about your kids." I think Dee meant it to be funny. It fell as flat as it deserved to. "Come on, Jim, it's just one night. It's an opportunity she'll never have again. You wouldn't divorce Linda over one night."

"Why not?" I glared at her. An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Jim, try to think of it this way, maybe it will help." Jane was trying to sound sympathetic. "What if the cover model from the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue was here tonight? Say she picked you out of everyone here to dance with, and then she offered to spend the night with you. Can you honestly say you wouldn't be tempted? Can you honestly say you would turn her down?" The pleading look in Jane's warm brown eyes made her look like a particularly winsome puppy dog, and was usually quite effective in getting her what she wanted. Not tonight.

I stood and looked down at Jane. "Yes, I would be tempted, but I would turn her down. You see, I have a wife, and I don't want to hurt her. At least, that's what I'd have done before tonight."

There was another one of those deafening silences. I looked around the table at each of my former friends, all of whom were siding with my cheating wife. At that moment, I sincerely hoped never to see any of them again. I pulled out a twenty and dropped it on the table. "That will pay my tab. You're all covering for the slut I came with; you might as well cover her bill, too." I turned on my heel and stalked out of the club.

My anger cooled as I walked the block and a half to the hotel. It was replaced by the deepest sadness I had ever known. Linda and I were supposed to be making this walk together, holding hands, chaffing our friends about what they were going to get up to once they got to their rooms, and being chaffed in our turn. She was supposed to be holding my arm that way she does, and pushing her face into my coat sleeve when the conversation got too risqué. Instead, I was alone. Alone, I rode the elevator, trying not to remember what Linda and I had gotten up to in other hotel elevators. Alone, I entered what was supposed to have been our room. Alone, I faced the wreckage of our special night.

I turned on the light, and shut the door behind me. Suddenly, I was weary beyond the telling. I dropped my winter coat on the floor and slouched toward the bedroom. There was a Godiva chocolate on each pillow. Laid out in the middle of the bed was a bra and panty set that I hadn't seen before. They were dark blue, darker than her dress, edged with black lace. In my mind's eye, I could see her modeling them, with that combination of love and sensuality in her eyes that was all her own, that had been all mine until tonight. I took the lacy little garments tenderly into my hands, as if holding them might bring her back to me. It didn't work. I wept.

My wife, my lover, my best friend, had been taken from me by another man. He had casually, easily, plucked her from right beside me, as if he had every right to do so. He didn't care what she meant to me; all he saw in her was a pretty fuck toy for the night. And she had just let him! I didn't matter enough to her to inspire even the slightest resistance. It was as if she, too, thought he had a right to her, stronger than whatever right I had earned by almost ten years as a faithful, loving husband. Yes, it was supposed to be just one night. And the next morning, I supposed. So what? And what would he, and this night, leave in her heart and mind and senses? What could I ever do that would compare to, let alone compete with, the city's hero, the handsome stud, Marc "The Asshole" LaValliere?

I must have dozed off. When I came to, it was almost 1:00, and I was slumped over on the bed with an ache in my back and a tear-sodden bra and panty in my hands. I looked around the room. Thinking about what we had planned for this room, I knew I couldn't sleep there. Home, in our bed? No, that was even worse. Another hotel? That was stupid, I had already bought a hotel room. Maybe one of the kids' rooms. That might work. I repacked Linda's suitcase and my own. I ate both chocolates -- no point wasting them -- and threw the sodden bra and panty into the wastebasket. They were empty and worthless without Linda, just like our "special night."

As I was getting ready to leave, my phone vibrated. Instantly, I reached for it hoping Linda was texting, maybe to say she'd changed her mind. It was Dave.

"Hey buddy, we got you good huh?"

What the hell? God I hated this man right now. I furiously texted back, "Fuck you asswipe. You're not funny. Like I said, don't ever contact me in any way ever again, or I'll hunt you down and kill you."

That was a little over the top, but he had it coming. Plus I was definitely not myself at the moment. I really did want to kill somebody. What kind of supposed friend rubs the worst night of your life in your face?

I checked us out of the hotel. She and Asshole could figure out how she got home. She probably wouldn't show up by checkout time, anyway. The professionally chipper young woman behind the desk looked worried as she asked if the accommodations had not been to our liking. I stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense of her question, then realized that couples who rent a mini-suite like that usually don't check out until the last possible moment.

"No, the room was fine; things have just... changed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. Her professionally cheery demeanor returned, once she knew that her hotel was not at fault. She must have seen this sort of thing before; it didn't seem to worry her much.

Our little starter home didn't have a spare bedroom, or even a sofa big enough to lie down on. Tommy's room it was, then. I surprised myself by sleeping well, and without dreams. I'm still not sure how I did that, but it was a mercy.

I sat on Tommy's bed and planned what I needed to do. I had no idea when my cheating wife would come home; she was obviously far too busy with Asshole to text or call. I figured she wouldn't show up before noon, which would give me plenty of time to pack what I would need for a week or so and be gone before she arrived. On Monday, I would find a lawyer and get the divorce started.

My former friends -- and, I suppose, my soon to be ex-wife -- seemed to think that somehow, the one-and-done attitude we'd all had toward cheating didn't apply in this case. They were wrong. It didn't matter who was fucking her; it wasn't me, and that was that. They would just have to live with their disappointment.

I got myself breakfast ("The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast," I quoted to myself). As I was putting my dishes into the sink, my eyes fell on our refrigerator door. Tommy's crayon picture of his family was done in the typical style of a four-year-old. He'd taken the trouble to get everyone's hair and eye color right, though, even his sister's, and there was no mistaking the happiness and love felt by the artist. What would it do to him if I let his mother and the Asshole rip his family in half? And what would happen to my girl Emma?

I knew that Emma and Tommy were nowhere in Linda's thoughts at that moment. I wasn't either, and she deserved to lose us all. But to give her what she deserved, I would have to ruin the world of my two young innocents. Could I do that? And if I couldn't, then what? I had no idea, so I unpacked our suitcases, and did some Saturday chores that required at most half my brain.

A bit after noon I took a break and slumped into my living room chair. I didn't bother to turn on any lights, despite its being another dreary, grey day: the mostly-darkness suited my mood, as I tried to think of a way to end my trashed marriage with the least harm to my children. After a while, I have no idea how long, I heard

my phone chirp. Probably Linda needing a ride after the asshole dropped her like a hot rock at the hotel. Except it wasn't. It was Dee.

"Hello!" I shouted angrily.

"Jim? Why are you yelling?"

"Why do you think, homewrecker?" I snarled.

"Oh my God, Jim, you're not still pissed from last night? Geez. I'm sure you had fun. Please put Lin..."

"Fuck you bitch!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. With a deep breath, I dialed it back a bit. "You said it was just one night. You said she'd come back after her BIG night with the asshole. It shouldn't matter, you said. It wasn't a big deal unless I made it one, right? That's what you said Dee. Well its 12:23 and she's still not home, so I guess you struck out on all counts. Screw you friend. If she ever does come home, I won't care. I've got two children to worry about and care for now. Screw her and screw you too."

I clicked off as I said that. My blood was boiling now, with two friends rubbing my nose in Linda's infidelity. I still wanted to cry. Right at that moment, I couldn't imagine a time I'd ever not want to cry again, but I knew I had to clear my mind and get my head on straight. As raw as the thought was of Linda still, right now in bed with that wife stealer, I had a family. I had responsibilities. I tried to remember when Linda had told Mrs. Porter we would pick up the children. Linda had dropped them off, and I had no idea. So I washed the sweat off my face form the yard work and changed my shirt. Then I headed to the Porter's.

The Porters were a very nice older couple, probably a few years retired, if I had to guess. I'd never asked, because Linda and Jane were a bit closer to Mrs. Porter. I rang the bell.

"Well hello Jim!" Mrs. Porter said quite convivially. "How was the big night out? Linda said all of you were very excited to get out on the town." She peered around the door jamb towards our car. "Where's Linda, Jim?"

"Uh, she's at home," I lied, not wanting the older woman in our business. "Not feeling so well today. I think she had a few too many, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," was all she said as she seemed to be lost in thought. "Well, let me get the kids' stuff together, come on in."

The kids ran up to me, hugging and talking about the cookies they'd made last night under Mrs. Porter's watchful eye. Then they asked, "Where's Mommy?"

"She's home," I lied again, not wanting to make eye contact with our sitter, but doing so anyway. "She's got a sick tummy, and is probably lying down," I added. Mrs. Porter gave me another odd look, and I couldn't help wonder how much she might know about Linda's real whereabouts. Could Linda be so brazen as to tell the older woman that she was away committing adultery? I sure hoped not. This was embarrassing enough for me as it was.

Driving towards home, I decided I didn't want to deal with Linda yet. "Hey kids, how about we go to the park?" I asked them, already knowing the answer. "YEAH! Park Daddy, park!" they shouted. "The one with the pirate ship."

We had two parks close to home, but Emma and Tommy favored the 'Pirate Ship Park,' as we referred to it. The ship had slides coming out where the cannons may have once been, and it had a rope pulley, they could hang from and glide out into the sand.

After an hour or so, I decided to take them to Chuck E. Cheese. That would tire them out along with the park, and it would mean they'd be extra sleepy tonight, so that I could sit and have it out with my soon-to- be ex-wife. I stopped at the bank ATM on the way, and on a whim pulled out the allowed daily limit of $1200.00. I'd probably need some cash. If my talk with Linda went anything like my talk with Dee and our so-called friends, she might push back hard, and try to lock me out of my own bank account. It was terrible to think I'd trusted this woman with my life just 24 hours previously, and now I was suspecting her of possibly having known Marc the Asshole before last night. Maybe this was her grand plan to dump me: putting me so far off-balance that, I wouldn't be thinking straight. Maybe, when we got home from Chuck E. Cheese, there would be a process server waiting for me instead of Linda.

As hard as I tried to put that thought far out of my mind, it came right back when the kids and I walked into a dark, empty house. The good news, if you want to call it that, was that there was no process server, no note, no anything to indicate Linda had been home yet. Tommy ran to our bedroom and came back confused. "Where's Mommy, Daddy?" I could only say that she must have gone to the store. I got the kids their baths and put on Frozen for them, and then I started to worry.

Where the hell was she? I tried her cell, and it went straight to voicemail. I texted her "Where ARE you?" Nothing. As much as my heart kept breaking over her blatant disrespect, a part of me was telling me something was wrong. Even Linda wouldn't stay away from Emma and Tommy this long, regardless of her feelings for me. Linda, my wife, the person I knew... well thought I knew, best in the whole world.

I took the kids up to bed around 8:00, and sat down to read them a story. Emma, then Tommy asked for Mommy, and my heart was breaking all over again. I didn't want to see them cry. Running on adrenaline for nearly 24 hours, can be a good thing, until you start coming down. With fatigue setting in, I realized what an absolute mess I was just then. Hurt and anger were beginning to mix with hopelessness, as well as fear. What if she didn't come home tonight? Would she really stay with the asshole for a second night of sex? What if she didn't return tomorrow? Or ever? When could I file a missing person's report? I watched enough TV to know that that would be tomorrow, Sunday night, 48 hours after she had last been seen. Or was it 24 hours? Maybe, it didn't work that way in real life. I couldn't see her leaving her children, yet before last night I could never see her leaving me either - not like that.

The kids did not go to sleep as easily as I'd predicted. I think they could sense my anxiousness and maybe my sadness. They were obviously waiting for Mommy to arrive home from the store. Finally, about at 8:45 they fell into a fitful slumber.

I went to my liquor cabinet and did a visual inventory. Linda and I aren't big drinkers; 'light weight' is the term I think our friends called us. Our friends. Unbelievable sadness overwhelmed me at that point, and I was again bawling my eyes out, as I searched for something strong, like a good bourbon or scotch. Well, shit; I guessed Seagram's was going to be about as good as it got.

Pouring my second full glass, I was startled by the doorbell. As much as I loathed my wife right now, I ran almost tripping to the door. I glanced out front, and saw a car I couldn't identify parked in front of the house. It was just some sort of plain black sedan. As I looked I saw Dee, Phil, Dave and finally Jane walking up the driveway. I peeked through the lookout hole and saw a man and woman I'd never seen.

"Go away!" I exclaimed loudly enough to be heard through the door, but not so loudly as to alert my children. "Get away from me. I told you I never want to see any of you again. Can't you get that through your heads?"

"Mr. Carlson, open the door. Police." Geez, what was wrong with these people? They help destroy my marriage, and now they're trying to destroy me. I flung the door open, screamed, "GET OUT!" and then closed it to within a couple inches.

"Mr. Carlson, please open the door. I'm Lt. Detective Westin and this is Detective Hathaway. We need to speak to you."

"Let me see you badges." I said.

Detective Pierce Westin and Detective Molly Hathaway: that's what the badges said. I slowly opened the door, without moving to invite them in.

"Mr. Carlson, may we please speak to your wife Linda?" Westin asked.

I looked over the detectives shoulder and saw four former friends all with smug looks on their faces. "She's not here. Why don't you ask them where she's at? That one," I pointed at Dee, "said she'd be home this morning. I've tried calling her and texting, and she won't respond. Why don't you drive over to that ass hole Marc LaValliere's house? That's the most likely place you'll find her."

The detective's gave each other a puzzled, determined look. "May we come in, please?" Hathaway asked.

"No. Look, I don't know what kind of sick game you're all playing here. My wife, well, ex-wife soon enough, broke my heart last night as she cruelly humiliated me in front of these morons and about 200 strangers. She's not home. She hasn't come home, and the last I saw of her was walking to the bathroom in that club, but certainly, if you were really cops, these four would have already told you that." I was getting louder, as the anger once again rose in me.

"My kids just went down for the night after a very distressing day, not knowing where their mother was or when she was coming home."

At this point Westin imposed himself between me and the point where the door would close. He created enough space and then nodded at Jane, who quickly entered my home and made her way through the living room, down the hall and up the stairs.

There was plenty I wanted to say, but I was stunned at the events that were unfolding in my own doorway. Jane came down, and Westin questioned her with his eyes rather than words.

"The kids are in bed asleep, but no Linda," she said. I found it odd that she stayed on the other side of the living room, near the hallway.

"Mr. Carlson, can you step out onto the porch please?" I don't know why I did, my brain said not to, but my feet seemed to move all on their own.

"Mr. Carlson, put your hands behind your back please." Hathaway demanded.

"I'm...I'm under arrest?" I asked perplexed.

"No" Westin said. "But on a wellness check, protocol allows us to detain a person or persons for questioning. At the moment, we're just going to the station for a chat."

"My children!" I suddenly blurted out. "I can't...you can't just leave them here! What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Hathaway spoke, "can your friends remain here, until you or your wife return?"

"They are not my friends! My wife left with Marc Lavelliere, the pro football player, from a club we were all at last night. Actually, she snuck out with him, and all of these former friends helped her."

Jane came forward, standing very close to me and in a subdued voice said, "Jim, I'll stay ad babysit while you talk to the officers. Nobody else. We're all worried about Linda, Jim. I'll stay, just me, until you finish talking to these officers. Is that Okay?"

I still wasn't sure. I found myself slowly walking myself backwards into the safety of my home. Looking at Westin, I said, "don't you people need a warrant or something?"

"Mr. Carlson," Westin said firmly, "we need to have a word with you, at the station. Now. Your children will be looked after. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can return home. Please do not resist."

Westin had stepped back out of arms reach from me, and I suddenly didn't like my chances furthering this argument. I sighed and placed my hands behind my back. For the first time since answering the door, I stared at each of my former friends. They all wore a look of uncertainty, and was that...elation?

Something was definitely not right here. In the car I decided to keep my mouth shut. Why did the cops want to talk to me? What the hell did I do other than be the faithful, loving husband? I didn't do anything. But they thought I did, it seemed. Why were my friends with the cops? Did the ass hole's house burn to the ground with Linda in it, and they suspected me of foul play? No. That couldn't be it, or they wouldn't have come to me as they did. Did the ass hole do something to her, and they thought it was me? What the hell was a 'wellness check' anyway? Dozens of simultaneous thoughts flew through my brain, and yet I kept hearing the voice of reason. "Focus. Now's the time to focus."

So I tried to put all the thoughts and questions out of my mind. Hathaway led me into what I knew was an interrogation room. Yes, they did look just like the movies and TV shows, except this one was very small. Just two chairs and a small desk, decorated the room. A camera looked down upon us from each of the four corners of the ceiling. Where was the two-way mirror? She undid my handcuffs and I rubbed my wrists as she offered me a coffee or soda.

Westin returned a few seconds before she entered the room with a Coke. "Alright Mr. Carlson" he said sitting across from me, "Jim...may we call you Jim? My name is Pierce and this is Molly." I nodded.

"Jim..." I couldn't take it anymore and interrupted.

"Why am I here? What the hell is this about?"

"Jim, easy. Let's start with my questions. Can you tell us about last night? At the restaurant, and then at the club? Can you tell us about your evening from the beginning?"

I looked at Westin incredulously. "Why am I here?" I demanded flatly.

"We'll get to that. Please answer my question."

I took a deep breath before proceeding. "My wife Linda and I had a planned night out with our...friends, including those four who you left at my home. We all got rooms at the Madison, had a nice dinner, and there's a club the next block over. They have some kind of deal with the Madison, where if you show your dinner receipt there's no cover charge. They had a live band and we were going to dance and drink a little, before going back to our rooms. For my wife and me it was supposed to be a special night since...since our Valentine's Day was snowed out." My eyes and tears betrayed me, much like Linda had as I recalled the event.

"Some half hour or so into our evening, that asshole jock, Marc LaValliere came into the club with a couple other teammates, I guess. Everyone at our table was goo-goo-gaga over him. Then he got up and came over to our table. He asked Linda to dance, as if I wasn't even there. She just turned her back on me and took his hand, dismissing me much like he did, and they walked onto the dance floor."

Westin cut in, "And how did that make you feel Jim? It must have angered you, with all your friends watching."

"Of course it made me angry! What kind of stupid question is that?" I yelled. Then I took another breath, realizing this was a bad place to lose my temper.

"Yes, I was angry. It's not polite for any man to ask a female to dance when she's with a companion, without asking his permission. Linda feels...felt...well I thought she felt the same. Obviously I was wrong."

"Did you try to intercede?" Molly asked.

"No, not at first. I think I was too shocked. Too stunned. I think it was Dee who said something like, it's just a dance, Jim. I believe she told me to relax, and even invited me to dance with her. Something told me she was only trying to distract me, so I declined. After two fast dances, the slow dances started."

"Westin interjected, "Was Jack... LaValliere doing anything inappropriate? The way he danced with her, or touched her?"

What? Who's Jack?, I thought. "No, that was strange. He was a good dancer, I guess if I had to rate him, probably excellent. I didn't see anything inappropriate. When the slow dances started, she seemed to melt into him, like they fit together. That's when I got upset and went to cut in. Jane I remember, she took hold of my arm firmly and said, 'Don't Jim, let her have this'"

"And that pissed you off, didn't it?" Molly assuaged. That earned her a dirty look from Westin.

"Yes. A little. It seemed my friends were star-struck or something. Like we were all watching that Disney movie, what is it? Oh, Beauty and the Beast. My kids only watch Frozen."

The detectives looked quizzically at each other.

"Sorry. I mean, they all seemed to be ignoring me as if I wasn't there. All of them, my wife, my friends and the football ass hole."

"Then what?" asked Westin.

"They finally came back to the table. Linda looked very nervous. Or maybe anxious, I don't know, maybe both. Dee quickly excused herself to the restroom, asking Linda to accompany her. You know women. Then Dee came back alone. I asked about my wife and Dee, then the others razzed me about being overly protective of Linda. About five minutes later the little hairs on my neck stood up and I went to the bar asking for someone to check the ladies room. That's when Dee came up alongside me, explaining that Linda had snuck out the back door with the asshole, and they were spending the night together."

"How did that make you feel Jim?" Molly asked, although in a more thoughtful tone.

"I can't explain how I felt. How would you feel if the person you loved did that to you? The love of your life, your spouse of ten years, your best friend?" I was worn out and spent. I stopped and took a long draw of my Coke then asked for another. Molly nodded and left the room.

Westin continued. "OK, just you and me, man to man, tell me what was going through your mind when Dee told you."

"I don't know exactly, so many things. How could Linda do this to me, to us? That was first and foremost. Then I thought, 'this can't be.' Was she coerced? Did the ass hole put something in her drink? I quickly realized he'd been nowhere near her drink. Was he in cahoots with the bartender? Maybe Dee or one of our other friends did something. I guess I was trying with all my might to think of a logical explanation, and all the while, Dee just kept saying 'It's just one night. She'll come back tomorrow and everything will be as it was.' I thought, 'what a stupid bitch.' She couldn't possibly believe everything would be like it was ever again, having known Linda and I for all this time. No way she could think I'd let this go."

Molly came back in, opened my soda and put it in front of me.

"So I suppose, I was mostly confused at first, then angry. Angry at what I consider a predator, mad at my wife, and lastly at my friends. When I got back to the table, I could see the looks on their faces. They all knew."

"What did you do when they mocked you Jim?" Molly asked.

She was starting to really piss me off.

"I never sad they MOCKED me, detective." My reply dripped with sarcasm.

Westin gave her another admonishing look.

"They all took her side though. They seemed to think, I should be cool with it, because it was Marc the asshole LaValliere. The celebrity." I threw a $20 down and told them I never wanted to speak to any of them ever again, and left."

The two detectives glanced at each other again.

"So then you went back to your hotel room?" Westin continued his interrogation.

"Yeah," I said quietly. I didn't want them to know I cried like a damned baby. I was embarrassed enough as it was. "I didn't know what to do. She was gone. I found a brand new pair of lingerie laid out on the bed. I didn't know if that meant her liaison was premeditated and the sexy outfit was there to twist the knife in my heart, or if it meant she planned to wear it for me. If it was the latter, then how could she have left with him? It just created more questions, and no answers. I broke down a bit. Then I decided I needed to get out of there."

Again with the sideways glance. What were these two not telling me?

It was Westin who dropped the bomb and heightened my recognition of the situation.

"OK, Jim. So you were basically a beaten man. Suppose you tell us what happened when Linda got back to the room?"

What? What did he just say? I must have looked surprised at the question. The obvious mistake.

"What? What do you mean, when she came back? You already know she didn't come back. Still hasn't. Why am I here? If you're looking for Linda, why aren't you at LaVallieres house?"

Westin quickly said, "Jim, come on. It's ok. We understand, believe me, we do. No man could put up with that level of disrespect, that level of humiliation. Just tell us what happened. She came back to the room, and then what happened? You two argued, maybe it escalated, got out of hand. Maybe she threatened you with a divorce or the kids, you know, when it got nasty. Tell us what happened, Jim."

"I think I need an attorney," I said quietly.

"OK, Jim. If that's how you want to play it," Westin said with a degree of sorrow in his tone.

I was stood up, turned facing the wall, as Hathaway handcuffed me for the second time tonight, as Westin read me my Miranda rights. I was in such a fog, I can't even tell you what I was being charged with.

"Hello Mom?" I said.

"Yes it's Jim. Listen Mom, don't talk please. I'm in trouble. I don't have L. W.'s phone number."

L.W. was a longtime family friend, and a long time attorney of some notoriety. Semi-retired now, I only hoped he'd agree to represent me.

"Mom, PLEASE. I'm under arrest and this is my one call. I'm at the precinct on 4th Street. I need you to call L.W. and tell him I need his help. NO, Mom! I can't talk about it right this minute. Please just get ahold of him, send Dad over to his house if he doesn't answer."

It was 1:30am as I looked up at the well placed clock. The second night in a row I was up at least two hours past my bedtime. I had been running on...well, honestly, I have no idea what I was running on, but right now, whatever it was had been almost totally depleted.

"Mom, OK. Thanks. Thank you. No, I'll fill you in later. Yes I promise. Yes. Bye Mom. OH WAIT! Mom, listen, can you go to the house and take Emma and Tommy with you? Yes. They were left there with Linda's friend Jane. Yes, that Jane. No Mom, she's not my friend anymore. Please go get the kids and keep them with you until L.W. gets me out of here. Yes. I love you too."

If the two large biker types decided to rape me in the holding cell, I wasn't aware of it. I slept like the dead. Still, I awoke and all the stress and panic immediately came back. Somehow, these inept cops thought I'd done something to my wife. What the hell was wrong with them? If in fact, Linda was still missing, why were they wasting time with me, if the ass hole was the last person to see her? To be with her.

At 10:00 or so, I was led into a larger conference room. There waiting for me was the legend, L.W.

"Good to see you boy." L.W. stood and put his large strong hand on my shoulder. At least a part of L.W.'s success over the years had to be his ominous and imposing stature. Even at seventy, L.W. seemed larger than life. He stood a whopping 6'4" with broad shoulders, and a tailor made striped suit.

We sat down, and I started in, unable to stand it any longer. "What's going on, L.W.?" I asked. The question seemed to throw the old man off his nut. He just stared at me.

Finally, he spoke. "Jim, your friends triggered a wellness check. That's something that gives the police an opportunity to intervene outside of any waiting period of 'missing persons' if they think or suspect a person may be in imminent danger. They want to know where Linda is."

"That's easy," I said confidently, "She left the club with Marc LaValliere. Went to spend the night with him. Snuck out the back door, leaving a fool of a husband in her wake. Why don't they just go to his house? I'm sure that's where they'll find her, that is if she didn't go home yet."

L.W. looked at me like I had two heads. He rubbed his white goatee with his left hand for a long moment. "Jim, look at me son. Swear to me, that Linda never came back to your hotel room later that night, and swear to me you haven't seen her since."

"Easy." I stated emphatically. "No she didn't and no I haven't." Staring him in the eye.

He searched my face for a long time. Finally, he said, "Jim, I believe there's a lot going on here you're unaware of. What time did you check out of the Madison?"

"I think a little after one in the morning. OH!" I got a little excited at a sudden revelation. "There was a girl...a younger woman at the desk, and she seemed especially interested why a guest would be checking out in the middle of the night. We spoke briefly before I left. She knows I was alone."

"I don't think things are that easy, but that's a start. That, and the hotel security cameras. I'll put pressure on Detective Westin to check those out as corroboration. He's a fair man and a good detective."

After a long sigh, L.W. exclaimed, "Jim, I need to bring you up to speed. First, I've secured your release. You have to stay in the county."

"What am I being charged with?" I pondered more than asked.

"They aren't charging you...yet. They can't find your wife. Your friends think you had something to do with her disappearance. The best they can do right now, would be conspiracy to commit murder, or conspiracy to commit kidnapping. Without a body or further evidence, neither charge would ever stick."

"I don't understand."

"Jim, the dance, the leaving the club. It was all supposed to be a joke. Albeit a very ill-conceived and sick joke, I must confess. Linda and your supposed friends set you up. You were supposed to go back to the hotel heartbroken, I guess, and then Linda was to come strolling in.

He let that sink in. "L.W. are you saying that, she was playing me, and was supposed to come back to the hotel? Why would she do that? Where the fuck is my wife?" I screamed.

"Easy boy. One thing at a time."

"Screw that, L.W.! That prick has my wife. Fuck! Her life may be in danger. Oh fuck! Maybe he convinced her to run away with him for real, and forget the joke."

"Son, calm down. Where's he gonna go? He's one of the most recognized football players in America. Relax a moment. Listen to me. I've spoken to the detectives and read the statement of concern that triggered the wellness check. Your friend Phil, and corroborated by the others, claim he has a friend of a friend who personally knew Marc LaVallieres double. His body double. One, Joseph Jackson. They used him to pose as Mr. LaValliere as part of the scheme. The real LaValliere was hosting about twenty people in his home on the night in question, so he has an alibi, and was not anywhere near the club. According to their statements, Jackson was supposed to take Linda for a ride in a limo rented by your so-called friends, give you enough time to leave the club, then return her to the Madison. Dee was to text her when you left, so Jackson and Linda could coordinate the timing."

Now I was the one looking stunned. How could any of these people do this? It wasn't a joke, it was a diabolical plot to destroy a marriage. What could Linda have been thinking? It had to be that bitch Dee. She was always calling me straight-laced, or Mr. Wrapped-Too-Tight. Always ripping into me about lightening up, although she always did so just on the edge of 'joking'. I knew it was condescending though. I knew how she really felt. I never said too much to Linda, because Dee was her best friend. Shit. SHIT!

"L.W. where are Tommy and Emma? Are they at my parents? I need to get over there. We need to leave right now. I need to talk to Phil and Dee. We have to..."

"Jim. Damn it boy. Settle down. I know what you're going through. Believe me. I've been at this a long time, son. First, you are not to talk to any of them. I've already had my people contact them to set up a time to come to my office and take their statements, as is our right as part of your defense. I'm..."

"My defense? Are you crazy? Clearly, I had nothing to do with it. I didn't even know about this...plot."

"Doesn't matter. Your friends confessed to the plot. In their complaint, they state Linda returned to your room. Dee was never able to contact Linda, by call or text. Their theory is that you lost it, maybe a fight escalated when Linda returned, and you did something to her."

"But..."

L.W. interrupted, "But nothing! Now the security tapes from the Madison will show you left alone, but more importantly, that Linda never entered the hotel. Or she did and was accosted by some other person. I need to get to Westin right now. You need to go be with your children and your parents. Do nothing else. Jim, listen to me. I know you want to find Linda. I need to remind you this is still an active investigation. The spouse or the aggrieved party is always the top suspect. In this case, you would be both of those. So if the detectives can solve this quickly by hanging it around your neck, they will. I have a feeling those security tapes will put a major hole in their case theory. I can get Westin to turn ahead the clock, since he's already investigating a crime, unofficially. You go home. Do not talk to your friends, and for God's sake, do not talk to the press."

"The press? Why would they want to talk to me?"

"Jim, It's Marc LaValliere. Remember? Oh, one more thing. You need to provide a DNA swab before you leave."

"Why? What if I refuse?"

"Jim, did the detectives offer you a beverage when they brought you in for questioning?"

"Yeah"

"Then they already have your DNA. Be smart and cooperate. We'll get to the bottom of this. Take a cab or Uber to your parents, and stay there until I contact you. OK?"

Emma and Tommy were wild when I got there. I could sense the fear, trepidation and nervousness as they hugged me and wouldn't let go. Finally, Mom took them into the kitchen to make some cookies. My Mom was the best! I sat with my father and tried to lay out the whole sordid tale. He seemed absolutely shocked at Linda's behavior, or specifically, her willingness to go along with this stupid and hurtful prank. I too had my reservations. Had someone tried to make a bet that Linda could do something like this, let alone act upon it, on a night we'd both declared our special night, I would have bet everything I had against it.

Finally, I told Dad I needed to lie down and rest for a few hours. I wasn't going to be any good to my kids, or anyone else, with nothing left in the tank. I popped in the kitchen and told my mom and kids the same.

I took my time in solitude. After a 4 1/2 hour nap, I felt more rested, and just lay there collecting my thoughts, sorting through everything that had happened in two short days. On the one hand, my wife had not exactly betrayed and deserted me. On the other, she had played the cruelest of "jokes" and may have decided to double down on it, leading to a shit storm that had already engulfed me, our kids, my parents, the cops, my lawyer, my ex-friends and God only knew who else. She could also have decided that she'd gone too far, and simply taken off with this Jackson asshole. Finally, she could be in real trouble. The idea she may have been kidnapped quite frankly didn't pass the sniff test with me, I'm ashamed to say.

Prior to Friday night, kidnapping would have been where my mind had gone first. That was way back when I'd thought I knew her better than anyone and also believed she loved me heart and soul. Her and my ex-friends actions, however, proved to me that I barely knew her, let alone well. Whether there was foul play or if she used this event with a small e, to simply leave me, it would probably be some time before I saw Linda again. That meant I was now a single dad. I was going to have my plate full, and would need to enlist some help. L.W. was dead on; I needed to let him handle all the legal stuff, and focus my attention to family.

Still, the thoughts plagued me: what happened to my wife? What would make her do this? Do this to us, and our kids? I wouldn't get any answers without talking to said ex-friends, but I knew that with the investigation in full swing, those answers wouldn't be coming in the next few days. Further, I didn't trust the cops to do their jobs. I'd never really spent any amount of time considering police competence or lack thereof. Now, I wanted to jump into action and join the hunt for Linda. Wouldn't I be more adept at helping to locate her than a bunch of strangers? The reality hit me like a smack in the face. Being biased or too close to the situation might actually hinder me. I'd be operating on emotions, whereas the lawmen wouldn't be.

I made some mental notes: find daycare. Enlist Mom and Dad where possible. Find a child therapist to help the children with their loss. Ask L.W. what I should be doing financially, and to protect our - I suppose my - assets for the time being. Talk to the school and the kids teachers, as if they wouldn't find out what was going on. Talk to my supervisor, lest he find out from someone else first. I didn't think about Linda's parents until right now, and suddenly wondered why I hadn't heard a thing from them. Did they believe I had something to do with Linda's disappearance?

Oddly, I felt better. I'd made a tick list of the things that were in my power to control, while casting aside a few that weren't. Finally, I found myself hungry and remembered I hadn't eaten hardly anything since dinner at the Madison. Mom had made lasagna. Boy, I remembered why I loved my parents so.

Monday morning found me in a Skype call with my boss, explaining as much as -- or, rather L.W. -- thought was prudent. Since L.W. had basically put me on unofficial house arrest until further notice, I asked if I could do some of my work remotely. Ben, my supervisor, was kind enough, imploring me to take some personal time with all that was going on. I explained that I'd lose my mind if I had to sit cooped up all day. He compromised with what equated to about a two hour per day work load, mostly filing and double-checking reports.

At about 4:00, I received a call from L.W. "Afternoon son. You have a minute?"

"Of course." He wanted to come by the house that evening to bring me up to speed on the events of the last several hours and to give me some further instruction.

"Can you make sure your mother or your dad is watching the kids in another part of the house? We're going to be covering several sensitive topics that would only upset them." I assured him that was doable and we'd be ready around 6:30. "One thing you should know before I get there. The investigation is moving in a different direction at the moment. You can take a deep breath for now, but that doesn't mean it won't come back around if some of these other leads don't pan out."

Mom volunteered to play sitter, so Dad and I joined L.W. in dad's study. The crafty old lawyer pulled three cigars out of his breast pocket, and handed one to my father. I don't smoke anything, and the old codger simply shrugged and put one back.

"Ok, first some good news. Detective Westin and his partner have observed the hotel security footage and it substantiates that Linda did not return to the property, including emergency exits after she left with you for dinner Friday night." He paused to let us absorb that.

"It's important you understand, police work is a process. The process almost always works like this; a significant other is the first suspect in missing person cases and murders. Secondary evidence and leads must be followed up on, and if those dry up, it's back to square one; the spouse. Sometimes, that process can be altered, but here we have a high profile case involving a nationally-recognized sports star. They will be going by the book - just in case - I'm sorry, your wife is found deceased, God forbid. That means you need to be taking actions that only an aggrieved and stricken husband would. Work, kids, home, eat, sleep, repeat.

Do not take any suspicious moves or actions. Use only the money you need to live on. Do not transfer or move any funds. Do not make any changes on taxes, insurance, or retirement accounts. We are operating on the premise that Linda is alive and 'missing.' You are not to talk to the press, and you need to turn down all interview offers. Initially, this may paint you in a bad light, but trust me, in the long run it's the best thing for you. Start looking for a child psychologist specializing in grief counseling. If I come up with other things that need attending to, I'll let you know."

"I understand, and I already thought about a counselor for the kids. They'll need it, and not for pretense's sake," I replied somewhat proud of myself.

"Okay, next order of business then. I met with..." he checked some notes he had in hand. "A David and Deandra McCullough and a Philip and Jane Bronson today. I meet with Paul and his wife..."

"Jeannie" I finished for him.

"Yes. Tomorrow. I'm sure you're eager to hear what the first four had to say. I'm giving you the short version here, again for your own good."

"My own good?" I asked a bit stunned. "It's MY wife that's missing. The mother of my children. What do I care what others think is good for me?"

L.W. was confident and experienced, and shot straight back. "You better care, Jim. This gets any worse, say Linda doesn't come back or isn't found, and they can find a way to hang this around your neck. Do you want Emma and Tommy to grow up under the domain of child protective services? Do you want to spend every dime you have and mortgage your home to pay to prove your innocence? You shouldn't. The criminal justice system may provide justice occasionally, but it's definitely not fair. Westin and company, have cases lined up behind yours. They get paid to solve quickly and move on to the next. In order to do so, they need to provide the DA with something they can use to secure a conviction, no matter who's actually innocent or guilty

Trouble is Jim, this case involves a pretty white housewife and a whiff of celebrity gossip. We're fighting on two fronts. The DA can double dip. He can bankrupt you with a regular trial, even if he thinks he'll lose it. He can also appeal to the court of public opinion, and ruin your life to cover his own ass. He'll do it, go home, fuck his wife, sleep like a baby, and maybe even still become a judge in ten or twenty years. Jim, this is my world. You stay in your lane for your own good and for your kids. Let me handle the legal stuff and the media circus. Two courts. Two chances to lose everything. I'm in charge."

I could only nod.

"Now, did you get any inclination during your time at the club or before that at dinner, that your wife and the group was planning anything in the way of a joke or prank?"

"NO. It was to be our special night. Two feet of snow wiped out our Valentine's celebration, so Dee came up with this dinner and dancing thing. Get rooms for all of us so we didn't have to drive. I saw nothing in Linda's behavior or the others that would have clued me in on their plan. Only afterwards was I dumbfounded by the group's behavior."

"Why? What made you feel that way?" L.W. asked.

"We've all talked about, you know, being married couples, things like that. We've had conversations about fidelity in a marriage, and we all agreed, one and done. No form of adultery would be tolerated by any of us. I was actually relieved that we all met after Linda and I got married. Same with them. No one knew anyone's past exploits before marriage, and we all felt safe with dancing with the other spouses, and even a little light flirting. Then they all just sat there and covered for Linda, then told me I shouldn't be angry about her deceit and betrayal. That was very strange, as I think about it now. Then I was just so shocked and angry, I couldn't think."

Our family friend took a deep breath. "Did you know the opinion your friends had of you?"

"I guess they always thought I was safe. I'm almost always the designated driver. They ask my opinion because I think things through."

"And did you know that they considered you the straight-laced guy? The party pooper, as it were? The one in the group that was wrapped too tight? This is at least Phil and Dee's reasoning for putting together the prank, as they call it, in the first place. They said they wanted to lighten you up, maybe teach you to have a sense of humor."

I couldn't believe my ears. Those pricks were quickly becoming enemies. "No, sadly, I would not have expected that," I answered quietly.

"I didn't think so. I recommend, in the future that you choose your friends more carefully. Anyway, the crux of it is, Phil has a friend and co-worker at the insurance company he works for. That friend has a friend, who has a friend named Joe Jackson. Joe is, or was until Sunday afternoon, employed by Mr. LaValliere as a publicity double, or body double. Doubles are used by many celebrities nowadays, primarily for security purposes, but occasionally for other things.

Phil mentioned it to Dee one night when it was just the two couples at Dee's home. Jane is the only person who seemed to object as the plan formed legs. A few weeks later they brought your wife into the fold, and by then Phil had already made contact with this Jackson fellow. The idea was, and I quote, 'Teach you to lighten up and the value of a good joke.' So that's the short version.

I can tell you, what they all said in their interviews sickened me. These people are not your friends, and likely you were the brunt of many a mean verbal joke long before Friday night, whenever you weren't there of course. There is no respect. If I had to guess, Linda was at least mildly coerced into this, and at most, she has some of the same feelings about you as they do. Jane did admit to me, that Linda spent a great deal of time thinking about it. She did not readily agree. Why she eventually decided to go along, will probably be a mystery until she is found or comes back. I also got the sense that Dee and Phil are the ringleaders in this situation. I have the sense, that the two of them may be playing behind their spouses back, possibly with each other.

So, right now Westin and Hathaway are looking for Jackson. They've viewed the security footage from the Madison and the dance club. They confirmed Linda left in Jackson's Audi. Marc LaValliere has been interviewed, and due to paparazzi on social media, he already knew something happened at the club, since he was home with guests on Friday. He's offered cooperation and more now that he knows the story. Mr. LaValliere, per recommendation from the NFL, terminated Mr. Jackson yesterday. I should have a progress report from Westin by 11:00am tomorrow. The obvious theory is they find Jackson, and we'll find Linda."

It was a lot to take in. I felt drained and I had barely said a word. L.W. rubbed my left shoulder as he stood. "Hang in there son. Do those things I asked, and nothing else. As soon as I know more so will you."

At 10:30 Tuesday morning, the next day, I heard the doorbell, as I was working on QA reports in Dad's office. I opened it slightly, leery of reporters. And there he stood.

"Mr. Carlson, I'm Marc..."

"I know who you are" I spat with as much vitriol as possible.

LaValliere was flanked by two mammoths, bigger than he. "Mr. Carlson, I'm here to help. If you'll allow me that is. It seems we have a common enemy and a common problem. May I come in for a minute?"

I opened the door and stepped aside, waving my arm towards the living room. The two giants stayed in close proximity. I sat across from him as the duo stood flanking him.

"Mr. Carl...Jim. May I call you Jim?" I nodded.

"Good. Call me Marc. Jim, Joe Jackson was my employee which you may already know. He's isn't anymore. Jim, this guy is bad news. I'm already cooperating with the police. From what my investigators have told me this morning, by the time those two detectives discover where Jackson went, this is going to blow up nationally. He crossed state lines on Friday night. That's going to bring the FBI into the fold. Good news for finding your wife, bad news for the intense publicity. I'm used to it, while you aren't.

Jim, I'm offering you the services of my private investigation firm, free of charge for the next six months, and possibly the foreseeable future beyond that."

I cut him off. "Why? Why would you do that for me?"

"Two reasons. One, he pretended to be me. That's bad for me. I have a long history of community involvement and charity. I do that sincerely, from the heart, by the way, but people who end up on a pedestal usually end up getting stoned off of it. Jackson is a blemish on my good name. Second, I found out this morning that he somehow stole one of my checkbooks, either from my car or my home, and I'm now out over $400,000 that he stole. I have no idea how he managed to get my checkbook, but I can't really blame the bank if he got into character to go there. Anyone would have thought he was me; that's the whole point after all."

"So why not just keep me posted, on what your people find?"

"I could, but I'm told you have one of the best attorneys in the state, with a hefty reputation. I like winners. Like your lawyer. Unlike Joe Jackson. My people and your people have a better chance finding your wife before that prick does something he can't undo. Let's say we combine forces?"

"What do you mean, 'can't undo?'"

"Jim, this guy is bad news. I'm not clear on how your wife got mixed up with him, and I don't want to make you any more worried than you already are. Jackson is a womanizer. He's a liar, and now he's a thief and a felon. At one time, he wasn't that bad, but then his best friend died - committed suicide I think - and from there he went off the rails. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I can't even begin to imagine your hurt and pain, and the stress of not knowing where your wife is. That's why I'm offering. Yes, like I said, it's for me, but also for you."

Damn - I didn't have any interest in liking this guy, but he seemed so sincere. I decided it might be helpful to join forces. We stood, and shook hands. On his way out the door, I said "One more thing Marc."

He turned and looked back. "Do you play around with married women?"

He instantly understood. "Don't believe the media Jim. They get paid to present illusion. But, if honesty will benefit our limited partnership, here it is. I only "play" with married women with their husbands' prior and full approval."

I guess the look on my face showed my obligatory surprise.

"Jim, the world's a crazy place. There's some guys out there that like that stuff, even willing to pay me for my...services. Although I've never taken anyone's money. My world class predator status is highly exaggerated."

The next 4 days dragged on. L.W. finally called with an update. Jackson had driven straight to the airport and boarded a flight to Ft Lauderdale. Linda's ID was confirmed by TSA. In Florida, They chartered a flight on a four-seater to Cuba. I was curious how that could be with a travel ban. L.W. chuckled telling me this was 'AF.' When I questioned that, he said "after Fidel" and explained that travel was no longer banned. The problem was, the Cubans had no record of the plane landing or ever being in their airspace. As Marc had predicted the FBI had taken the lead on the case. While I wasn't out of the woods yet, L.W. told me that I was becoming less and less of a suspect by the hour; however, there was the angle that I had done something to both Linda and Jackson. The court of public opinion was still very much in play.

I tried to work, like I'd asked my boss to let me do. It was more difficult than I suspected. Even though I'd been able to control my emotions in front of my kids, I started feeling depressed and less able to function. I felt helpless that week, maybe even as helpless as the night Linda had left me in ruin. It was starting to look more and more like she'd gone all in at some point and less like a kidnapping, or anything against her will. The FBI was setting up interviews with people who had had close or direct contact with the pair in the airports or on the first flight.

By Friday, one week from that fateful night, I'd steeled myself to getting all of us some therapy. I set up a few appointments for Monday. I also called my boss and told him he was right, could I take a two week leave of absence. He gave me three on the FLA and said if I needed more, I had plenty of sick time that wouldn't affect my vacation. I needed to settle in and help my kids and myself. Keep the press at bay. In short do all I could to survive.

March 6, South of Cuba, Grand Cayman islands

Linda

I felt the sun and warm breeze before actually seeing anything. I was waking up. Disorientation doesn't even begin to describe how I was feeling. As I slowly regained consciousness, I was remembering little snippets of the last...I don't know how long. Some of them were pleasant, while some were horrific, but I didn't like any of them. Finally, through the fog, I opened my eyes. Immediately I closed them as the brightness gave me an instant headache. I tried again.

Where the hell was I? I was lying nude on a "king size" bed, with what looked to be very expensive white satin sheets. Ow! As I moved my right leg, my ankle bones hurt badly. I looked down to discover the cause. A shackle was attached very tightly, and was rubbing my extended bones, but that must have been happening for a while. I started to assess other things too. The heavy chain attached to the shackle went down below the bed somewhere. My mouth was dry. Very dry. My leg muscles ached. Oh shit! My crotch was on fire. I reached down and felt a very swollen, very sensitive sex organ. As my finger brushed further back, I felt such a searing knife like pain, I wanted to scream out. My ass was extremely tender and it hurt ten times worse than the hemorrhoids I'd gotten after Tommy was born.

What the hell?

Starting to realize my predicament, my face flushed and my heart started to race, as my breathing became sporadic. I was being held captive. But why? Who? Looking towards the window I saw the daylight. It was hot, tropical even. I certainly wasn't anywhere near home. Had I been sexually assaulted? It sure felt like I had. I tried to remember my last coherent thought.

Jim! Emma and Tommy. My family. What had happened to me? What was wrong with me? I should have been able to remember the last time I'd been awake.

I felt the presence before I heard it. At the door was a man.

"Joe?" I asked shakily.

"Well hello, beautiful. It's good to see you awake." It was slowly coming back in pieces, except Joe's kind wonderful smile was now an evil smirk.

"Where...where am I? What happened to me, why am I shack..."

"Easy Linda. Take a minute. You've been out for a while and I need you to calm yourself so you don't have a reaction. I'll answer all your questions soon. Take a few deep breaths."

"Then come over here and release me!" I screamed.

"Linda", he said closing the space between us, "if you don't calm down, I'm gonna have to give you something to put you back to sleep. Relax. Breathe. Or I'll make you."

This was not the Joe from the club. My special night with Jim. Oh God! What is happening! Joe sat on the bed and began stroking my hair.

"That's it. Easy. Deep breaths through your nose and out of your mouth."

Suddenly remembering, I became revolted. I grabbed his hand, mid-stroke. "Don't touch me! You asshole!"

"Shh, shh." Joe gently but forcefully pulled away. "A lot has happened. I'm sure you want to know. If you're calm, and a good girl, I'll fill in the blanks."

"Fuck you, asshole. Let me go!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my mouth was too dry to muster anything but a hoarse groan. I tried to grab him, claw him, flailing wildly about.

Ouch! In the seconds after the pain, I understood he'd struck me, hard in the face. My cheek stung and my ear was ringing.

"Don't Linda. I told you to calm down. Do it, or I'll make you. You're my prisoner, not my friend. I'll hurt you, with zero thought or remorse." I guess the slap took the wind out of my sails.

Joe got up and left the room. I could hear a faucet running. He returned with a wet washcloth and a glass of water. The glass was plastic.

"Here. Drink," he demanded. Then he threw the cold wet cloth on my stomach. That's when I remembered I was naked in front of him. Using my free hand and my left foot, I was able to unsnarl the bedsheet, and pulled it up over me. This solicited a laugh from Joe.

"Now, now. No need for modesty Linda. Not after all we've been through this week."

This week?

"What day is it?" I asked ignoring his obvious suggestion.

"It's Thursday. March 6th, if I'm not mistaken. You've been home for just over five days now. I'm glad to see you awake. I was worried there for a while."

"Why? What have you done? This isn't my home!" I sobbed.

"There, there. Last Friday, you told me in the car that you didn't want to go back to your hotel. You had enough of playing faithful wifey and nursemaid to those brats of yours."

"You're a liar!" I screamed.

"No Linda. Your exact words were...Well, shit, let's just listen to them together." Joe reached into the back pocket of his pants and retrieved his phone. He was pushing buttons, and then I heard it.

"You okay baby? You had a lot to drink."

I heard my voice, but it wasn't my voice. It was horribly slurred, and pensive.

"(giggle) I'm Ooohkaaaay. Are you OOohkaaay? (giggle) (burp) giggle.

"Wanna go someplace baby? Someplace fun?"

"I have to...you need to take me to the Madrig...Morrrrrison...my hotel, 'member?"

"Sure baby. You ever wonder what it would be like to be on your own private tropical island?"

"Torprical island? Noooo."

"it'll be fun. Don't you want to have fun?"

"Yessss."

"Good, I'll take you back to the hotel after we go see the island. Maybe go for a swim at the beautiful beach. Drink something with an umbrella in it. Put your pretty toes in the sand. Wouldn't you like that baby?"

"yesssss. I jurst got my toes done for our speckle night. Oh, hold on. (shuffle) (giggle) (burp) We can't go. Where's Jim? We have to go see Jim."

"Nah. He's fine. He's with your friends remember? We'll call him when we get there so he won't worry. I got you babe. You can even take a little nap and I'll call him when we get there. It won't take long."

"Okay, you call him, K?"

"So you want to go right?"

"Yep. Read the way."

Joe clicked off the phone. With a diabolical smile he said, "See?"

"Fucking bastard! You drugged me."

"See, that's the thing right there. People always say, 'that Linda Carlson, man she's a dumb-ass bitch.' I say no way man; she's smart as a whip. Don't match wits with her, man. She'll mess you up."

I started crying now, fully understanding my situation. "Why?"

"See? There you go again! Proving me right. Sharp as a tack, I tell you. Why? That is the million dollar question, isn't it? It's one you will learn in due time. But not yet. In fact, I'm banking on you figuring it out before I tell you."

Joe walked into the bathroom, and came out with three tubes of cream. "Here. Put these on your privates. You have kids, I'm sure you can figure out which is which and for what end. You're a damned wild woman in bed Linda. I thought you were gonna break my dick. I know you were slightly out of it, but damn girl, you were screaming my name like a banshee when I took your 'Greek' virginity."

"Fucking raped me, didn't ya?" I said in a voice I hadn't used in a very long time.

"Well, well," he chuckled and shook his head. "Didn't expect that quite yet."

I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Now that you're awake, I expect you to behave. Let's go over the house rules. First, you're on an island. Yes a real tropical island just like I promised. I won't tell you...Well, what the hell. It doesn't matter. You're on Cayman Brac, the smallest of the three Cayman islands. This here, is a private Oceanside bungalow that I paid cash for. A little gift from that fucking asshole, Marc LaValliere. I kinda found his checkbook in my car, and thought, 'what the hell?'

"The Island only has about 2000 residents. The closest human is at a resort hotel" he pointed out the window, "exactly 5.1 miles down the beach to the southwest. I took some time this week to put 'no trespassing' signs about 1/2 mile down that way. So, once you get your voice back, you can scream until your heart's content. That is IF I let you get your voice back." With that he obscenely grabbed his crotch.

The realization of that gesture, brought my stomach up into my throat. Joe grabbed a big Tupperware bowl off the nightstand and put it in front of my face. It didn't matter. There was nothing in my stomach anyway. I was trapped. Hostage to a sadistic animal. I suddenly felt very helpless and hopeless, and very tired. I rolled over facing away from the prick, and curled up in a ball. He took the hint.

Jim

Over the next four weeks, things gradually slowed down. Gradually. I'd met once with the FBI. So had my former friends, although a bit more than once. The media was focused on some Supreme Court decision and subsequent protests, so our little story fell off the radar. I was thankful for that. My kids were very sad. It hurt me more than Linda leaving. They were my life, especially now. I spent every free minute with them, trying to quell the hurt.

L.W. kept me briefed as best he could. He was in contact with LaValliere's people, but there wasn't much to report. The trail went dead at the airport in Florida. The small prop job had taken off from a smaller airfield in Dade County. The FBI knew the name of the pilot, and he was the registered owner of the aircraft that never made it to Cuba. The problem was, both he and his airplane had totally disappeared. L.W. admitted that they could be almost anywhere, from Mexico, to Central America, to the Caribbean - even Jamaica, although the feds capitulated that it was unlikely they'd gone to a densely populated or urban center.

My friend and attorney tried to remain positive, but the grim look I sometimes saw on his face told me that he didn't hold out much hope for a happy ending to this story. Tight end extraordinaire Marc LaValliere had talked to the media, and made clear that he was on the case, spending resources, and cooperating with local and federal authorities. He apologized and empathized with 'the family' who were suffering because of his former employee, and vowed to do all he could to bring that poor woman home safely to her grieving husband and children. Yeah, right.

One bright spot was the therapist that L.W. had recommended for me. Her name was Ellen - Ellen Watson, with a bunch of letters afterwards. She was about the kindest soul I think I've ever met. She was certainly in the right business. Ellen let me talk and talk, until I was all out of words and thoughts. She gave me tips to help the kids heal, even though they had their own therapist. I quickly became endeared to her. As I said, she let me do most of the talking, but at the end of our session, she would provide suggestions, exercises, and overall encouragement. I found all of it to be extremely helpful and real world stuff.

Coming up on Memorial Day, now almost two months since I lost my wife, I received a call from Dave. He started the call by trying the tired old, "Hey buddy, how have you been?" instead of apologizing. I hung up straight away. His text came a few minutes later, "Jesus, Jim, I just wanted to see how you're getting on. Fuck, man, all this shit isn't my fault. When you're done playing victim give me a call." Fuck you, Dave. I thought it but didn't text back. That was hard not to do, but I'd learned in therapy that some of this, maybe even most of it, wasn't anyone's fault. Joke or no, Linda had left with the guy and never came back. The one question I might never get an answer to, was did she go willingly, or was this all on the asshole, Joe Jackson?

Not long after Memorial Day weekend, my parents asked if they could take the kids to our local water park. Usually, it wouldn't even be an ask, but they worried about me being alone for extended periods of time. I assured them I'd be good, and the kids needed some fun and bonding time after all the crap. They seemed to be weathering this much better than their father.

I was lost in thoughts on Saturday morning, pushing my lawnmower around the back yard when a movement caught my eye. Just inside the back gate I saw a sullen, worried Jane staring back at me. Out of all these assholes, I did regard Jane as the least evil. I took a breath and a longer exhale. I guess I could at least see what she wanted and then kick her out if it went sideways.

"Hello Jane, how are you?"

She stood quite still for longer than necessary, and I saw her willing herself to keep it together. She failed. "OH JIM!" she cried out in anguish. Still rooted to her spot, I got a sense she might collapse any moment. I closed the distance between us and then held my arms open in a universal sign.

Jane rushed to me, holding on tight, and I let her sob onto my shoulder. I guess my sweat wasn't too revolting.

When it seemed the required amount of crying time had passed, I said "Come on into the house Jane. You're gonna dehydrate in this heat."

She just nodded and followed me through the screen door.

"Lemonade, iced tea, or something stronger?" I offered.

"Iced tea would be fine."

We said nothing to one another until the beverages were poured and we made our way to the living room, a room her and I and our spouses had sat together in hundreds of times.

I let her make the first move. "I...I don't know what to say Jim, except that I'm so, so sorry about all of this."

"I believe you Jane. I've known you long enough to judge genuine remorse. As for the rest of those assholes, they can fuck off and die for all I care."

Jane looked shocked and obliterated. "You...I...You can't mean that?" she cried out.

"I'm sorry, Jane, I didn't mean it, well, I didn't mean the dying part. Everything else, yes." I said very matter-of-factly. Then I waited for her reaction.

"Jim, Phil is taking this the hardest, he..."

"He should be, don't you think?" I interrupted.

"Oh." She stated. "You've heard. Of course you've heard, it was your attorney."

I nodded. "Yes. I learned about the whole sorry stunt, and what all of you thought about me as a person, but only after my so-called friends tried to have me arrested, and I had to pay thousands of dollars to mount a defense. Which I'm told I'm still not completely out of the woods, if the cops get lazy or sloppy. They need someone's head on a spike, since that asshole LaValliere is involved."

Jane seemed to consider that revelation, and ponder the implications. Before she could formulate a thought I continued.

"But make sure that asshole husband of yours knows, I'm this close to filing civil suits against him and all the rest of you. If the FBI or local police give me any more trouble, I'm coming after all the co-conspirators. As far as I'm concerned, Linda's disappearance is all your faults - you and the fucker she ran with."

Jane was now starting to understand my position on the matter. "Jim, you can't possibly think that Linda would run off with some...stranger. She loves you more than her own life. She'd never leave her children for some man she just met. You don't really believe your own friends would condone that either do you?"

"I don't know what to believe," I started but got up to get a beer from the fridge. The iced tea wasn't getting it done. Coming back with one for Jane, because I knew she drank beer too, I continued.

"My wife is gone. Bottom line. I don't know if I'll ever see her again. I've got two small children, so honesty I can't dwell on whether she'll ever return. Regardless of the situation, I have to go to work and earn money, keep a roof over our heads, take the kids to counseling, and on top of that, I have to go to therapy twice a week so I can cope."

"What are the police saying?" she asked.

"That's another thing. I don't know who I can trust. I can't answer your question. You were here, at my door with those two detectives. You were the one they sent into my home. What did they ask you to do, Jane? Huh? Go see if Linda's dead body was in our room? 'Hey, while you're at it check and see if he killed his children too.'" I was on a roll, and needed to get this out.

"How could you all? Huh? How could you do this to me? To Linda? Some half-assed joke, with some stranger nobody vetted? Then to have the audacity to think that the victim had something to do with Linda disappearing? That was the intent after all, right Jane? Make the old bump on a log the victim? Ha ha, poor old Jim. We'll teach him a lesson. What did Dave text me? 'got you good ah buddy?'

"Well fuck all of you! I'll never forgive any of you for what you've done. I'm destroyed. My family and my life are destroyed. And for what? To try to get me to loosen up? Be less conservative? What? Screw all of you Jane. You tell them."

Jane leapt to her feet and fled the house, leaving the front door wide open. I heard her bawling as she ran down the driveway. I cried too. for a whole hour, I cried. It was cathartic. Finally I went back to my yard work.

I'll give her credit. She was determined. As I cut the last swath of grass, I looked up and there she was again. This time she came to me. "Jim, I'm sorry I ran out. I feel so guilty about what we...what I did. I'm ashamed beyond my understanding of shame. I can't even begin to understand how you must feel, so I won't try to empathize. Some days I wish I were dead. I'm so, so sorry Jim. What can I do to help you and your family? I'll do anything I can. Anything you'll let me. Please let me? Whatever you need."

I was starting to feel sorry for her. I realized that she was another casualty of this fucked up situation. She wasn't like the others. Not down deep where it counted. She even tried to take the blame for the others. Maybe she'd been thinking she could have somehow stopped this train wreck.

I gave her a real hug this time. "Come on Jane. Let's go sit down and try this again. I actually need to know how this whole shit show got started. That would be a thing you can help me with."

Jane and I resumed. "Tell me from the beginning, Jane. Don't leave anything out. As hard as it may become for both of us, I need to know."

"First, Jim, this wasn't Linda's idea. In fact, she fought it in the beginning. This was...Phil's idea. That's partly why I needed to talk to you, but we'll get to that later. Phil, and I guess I now know Dee, were...are pretty mean. And they don't care much for you, Jim. They don't hate you or anything like that. They just don't seem to care for your personality. Your 'holier than thou' attitude, they call it. They're partiers, Jim. I've come to realize since this sordid mess, that Phil and I are not on solid ground, like I once thought. He's looking for freedom, and I guess, wickedness. That's my word, not his. He sees me as he sees you. I'm boring. Drab, even. That's what he actually said. He told me I need to get onboard, or else. Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.

"It started when Linda mentioned to Dee what you said about the hotel and a designated driver for our night out. Phil and I had stopped over their place, I think it was the day after Dee called Linda about her last day of February idea. Phil was mocking you, saying, 'that's so typical of Jim.' Something about you wanting to rent an armored car to drive us the block from the Morrison to the club. Dee joined in, making fun of you, and saying how sorry she felt for Linda, marrying an old 'fuddy-duddy'.

I gave Phil a ration on the way home, telling him I couldn't believe he'd talk such trash behind his friend's back. He just shrugged and told me he really wasn't friends with you, and if it wasn't for me, Linda and Dee, he would never even talk to a guy like you."

I asked, "so what was Dave saying all this time? Was he in on it, or was he silent?"

"Jim, Dave's in a tough spot. Sort of like me, but different to a degree. Let me explain, how I see it.

I'm not sure if

you knew, but Dee is a slut. She's also what women call a real bitch. She wears the pants in that relationship. I don't think Dave's a wimp or anything, I just think he hasn't evaluated his life recently. Who knows? This...situation may be the thing that helps him with that. It sure has for me. Anyway, what she says goes for now. And it has for a long time. Maybe he's more like Phil. Maybe he just wants to be. But I see it as him trying to keep the peace with his wife."

That made all the sense in the world to me. It was a shock to suddenly realize that's exactly how I had most of them pegged too. Now I wondered what could have possibly allowed me to hang out with any of them. I guess I was doing it for Linda too.

"I think it was 4 or 5 days later that Phil called Dave and Dee. I listened in on the conversation. Phil was at work BS'ing with co-workers and Marc LaValliere came up. One of the guys mentioned that he was a drinking buddy of LaValliere's body double, and how much the guy really looked like Marc. Anyway, an epiphany hit him later that afternoon. Wouldn't it be fun if they could get this guy to come over like the star tight end, and ask one of the women to dance? Dee almost immediately said, that would be fun to trick the other people in the club, but wouldn't it be something if they could trick you at the same time.

The plan took on a life of its own after that. There wasn't much time to set it up. Phil decided he needed to meet this guy first, before springing it on Linda, so he asked Dave to come along with his friend from work. They met at some local watering hole. This Joe was somewhat reluctant at first, worrying that Linda's husband might go berserk, and he didn't want that kind of trouble. Phil and Dave persuaded him you were a big pussycat, and they showed Joe a photo of Linda. That one with all of us on the river cruise two years ago. Dave said it was odd how quickly he changed his mind after looking at the photo.

"He got a little nasty. 'Shit, that's a hot piece of ass,' he told Phil. 'I wouldn't charge you guys anything if I can fuck her.' Dave immediately jumped in with, 'No way! Yes, Linda's hot all right, but we're just trying to play a little joke, not split up a marriage here.' That's about all I remember of the actual dialogue. With that set, it was only a matter of getting Linda's buy in. That was more than enough to worry me, the way that guy talked about Linda.

"At first she didn't say no, but HELL no. She questioned Phil and then Dee as to why they'd even consider something like that. We were all five of us sitting right here in your living room. But they kept at her. It was a joke. Wouldn't it be good to loosen Jim up a little bit? She'd be going right back to you after all. I suggested that I didn't think there would be a happy ending to your special night back at the hotel. I told them I thought you'd be hurt and humiliated. And of course you were, more than anyone would have thought. I saw it in your eyes that night. I knew Linda was in big trouble, joke or not. I'm not patting myself on the back, Jim. They were all against me. Still, I wish I could have convinced Linda. I'd give anything to go back in time and help her fight the peer pressure. Keep trying to talk her out of it, and make her see reason.

"She didn't have long, Dee told her. There was planning and logistics if they were going to pull it off, and they told Linda they had to make sure it didn't go all wrong, didn't go south on her. They had to coordinate so that Linda would get a text as soon as you left the club. She was going to try to wait until you were in your room, but there was a chance you'd see her in the lobby. So as to not make a scene, she'd tell you she realized her mistake quickly and dumped him to come back to you, the man she loved. Phil had asked Joe if he wanted us to get a limo for their great escape. Joe laughed at them, saying, 'I thought you said I couldn't fuck her.' Then he said his sports car would do.

"Linda was sheepish and leery until the morning of the 28th. Then she seemed to be all in. I don't know what changed her mind. You know the rest, except that Paul and Chelsea didn't know until the night before. Tim and Mary didn't know until it happened. Phil said he thought Mary might pile on, trying to convince Linda it was a bad idea. Looking back, I should have asked the obvious question of Phil. If it's so bad, why do it? Anyway, Mary and her husband were so disgusted they left three minutes after you did, without saying a word to any of us. Dee texted Linda 'Go time' after you left the club, but she didn't get a reply. None of us thought anything of it. I mean, what could go wrong?"

Jane choked up at her own words, and started crying again. This time I did not console her.

"Jim, I have a confession. It's been eating me alive for months. I really thought you blew a gasket and did something to Linda out of some kind of blind rage. I thought that because I would have. When Dee called me Saturday, telling me she couldn't get Linda to respond, and you screamed and hung up on her like a madman, I started to fear the worst. In my mind, I could picture Linda trying to explain, trying to talk you down and herself out of it really. My brain told me, it would only take saying one wrong thing and maybe that's what Linda did. You snapped, and out of anger, well you get it.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm regretful that I didn't have more faith. And I'm ashamed that I joined them on the wellness check. I just had to see for myself."

We sat in silence for quite a while. Then I needed another beer. The kids wouldn't be back until tomorrow anyway.

"Why do you think she did it?" I asked with no emotion.

"What?" Jane asked, coming out of her fog.

"You're one of her best friends. Why do you think she decided to play along?"

"I don't know Jim. I've thought about that a lot. She loves you, that I know. She's always talked about that when we were together. I can't believe she'd lie just for the sake of lying. What I can say, is why she was initially resistant. Something about a high school boyfriend, somebody I'd never even heard of."

"Boyfriend?" I asked surprised. "I know about one or two, did she say who?"

"No. Not a name. I think something bad happened to him. She seemed sad when she talked about him."

"Oh" I replied. "That's...I can't remember his name. He killed himself a few years ago. She was pretty shook up."

"She said something about déjà vu when we were all talking that first day. I doubt the others even picked up on it. I thought it was strange."

"Yeah that is odd. I guess I'll never know what she was thinking."

"OH NO! Jim, don't say that. Don't give up on her!" Jane was back to being very emotional.

I didn't answer her, and the room once more filled with silence. A thought came to me.

"Something doesn't fit, Jane. I think I'm a pretty good judge of character, although I've been questioning myself a lot lately on that subject. I also believe what you've said so far. What was with the whole 'Swimsuit model' thing then? At the moment you said all that, I thought, 'damn, she's just as dumb as the rest'.

Jane didn't hesitate. "Because, Jim. I could see my worst fears were coming true. I could see how hurt and upset you were. I knew my suspicions would now come true. Your special night was dead in the water, so I was just trying my best to soften the blow. Or avoid you two having a blow-up later in the room. I didn't...have time to come up with a stronger argument."

We sat quietly a while longer when finally, Jane changed gears.

"What can I do to help, Jim? I'm serious about that. Can I help with the kids? John and Kristy miss your kids terribly. I can help you care for them, and it would be good for them to spend time with friends."

"I don't know Jane. The others would see that as some sort of truce and it's not. I never want to see them. I also will not have my kids exposed to Phil. I fucking hate him Jane. I'm sorry, but I do."

She came back quickly. "I would care for them away from our house. Here, maybe. If I'm going to be brutally honest, Phil and I are not in a good place, since that...you know. He's been giving me ultimatums lately, on top of the frosty atmosphere. He wants this freedom, I guess. He wants us to start doing some things on our own, hang out with friends without each other. He brought up separate vacations last week. The worst thing is he asked me to consider an open marriage. Says he thinks he can get Dee and Dave to go for it. Maybe even Paul and Chelsea. He seems to think he's some sort of influencer. I'm pretty sure I'm losing my marriage, because I could never go along with what he's suggesting. Problem is, I can tell he's serious about it, and it's breaking my heart."

I couldn't help it. She looked so sad and alone. I went to her on the love seat and held her while she cried it out. We sat there rocking back and forth for some time. There was nothing sexual about it, just two friends commiserating.

Finally, we spent a bit discussing how she might be able to help.

"Can you cook?" I asked smirking.

"Of course I can cook!" she responded, annoyed.

"Yes, but can you cook on Monday, Wednesday and Friday?"

By the time we were finished, Phil had texted her twice. We also decided that she could cook those three nights, and her children and her could enjoy a meal with us. She was determined to come by early on Monday, do some deep cleaning and do the grocery shopping. It was a start and I felt some relief as she left. Needless to see, I really liked Jane, and now I had a newfound respect for her.

Linda

Hopelessness was setting in, despite doing my damnedest not to let it. I think it had been nearly six months since I had seen my family. I think it had been six months since I had seen anyone at all, except Joe Jackson. I think, rather than know, because I didn't figure out that I needed to keep track of time until at least one month into my captivity. That's when I started using my fingernail to notch little straight marks into the wooden bed frame below the sheets where they couldn't easily be seen.

As far as captors go, Joe was pretty easy on me. Those first five or six weeks, were the toughest, especially when I became indignant or belligerent. My husband Jim has rarely seen that side of me, but it doesn't mean it's not there when I feel trapped or cornered. And I was definitely feeling like that. The back of Joe's hand would remind me that resistance was futile. Still, it took a while to become sticky.

It was after the first seven days or thereabouts when Joe had finally taken me outside the cabana. He'd pointed to me down the pure white sandy beach with the emerald green tropical water. "See that building there?" He hadn't waited for an answer. "That's a five star resort. 2000 people, give or take live on this island, and some weekends, depending on the time of year, there's more tourists here than residents. Like I told you, the resort is exactly 5.1 miles from where you stand. For you, walking it in the sand would take quite a while." He'd pointed to the four wheeler parked alongside the bungalow. "That is my transportation. In case you're wondering, it makes it there and back, with a little to spare on a tank of gas, but it would never make it back there. I have the only key for the gas, and you will never know its location." I assumed the extra gasoline was in the shed 20 yards or so behind our quarters.

"You can scream, yell, or hell even do jumping jacks out here. No one will ever know and on the off chance someone does see or hear you, they won't care. I've put up no trespassing signs about 2 clicks up the beach to keep the hotel guests in their lane. That chain on your leg there. That's the long one. Gives you access to the outdoors. No one, not even you should have to miss out on this breathtaking beauty. The shorter one is for nighttime and when I'm away. That keeps you indoors. Gives you enough rope to get to the restroom, or how do they say, hang yourself.

You'll be expected to clean up after yourself, and me. Cook too. You can do that having two kids, right?" I didn't answer right away. Joe had approached me slowly and measured. Then out of nowhere, he'd slapped me with all he'd had in him, leaving my face in the sand and my ear ringing and stinging again.

"You'll be expected to...service me, as well. Try to escape, try to hurt me, try to do both, and you'll get more of that, understand?"

I'd understood.

After that "learning period," things had settled into my new normal. Like I said, I'm no push over; no dummy, and I was motivated to see my kids again. Yes, and my husband, although I wondered if I might have a husband were I ever successful in getting back. I did my utmost to play the good little prisoner. I also had a plan.

I'd read about Stockholm Syndrome in college and it fascinated me. I even did a college paper on it. I wasn't going to become empathetic to my captor. But there were elements that could be used to my advantage. Still in all those months, Joe had remained stoic, and just out of my emotional reach. I began to sense he didn't care if I lived or died. I was simply being punished, for what I did not know. Maybe he was crazy, just under his controlled exterior, and he didn't know either.

The worst were the nights when he needed...servicing. Joe stopped raping me after the first 10-14 days. But he also never made love to me, not that I wanted or expected it. He would pound me into the mattress, taking and never giving. Rarely speaking. Nothing was off limits to him. Lube was rarely used. That didn't mean he totally discounted my pain. Sometimes he would stop, allowing me to get used to his assault. He would wipe away my tears, his face devoid of any affection. The last several weeks, I began using terms of endearment and being more vocal during the sex, just to see if I could stir any emotions. Nothing about him changed. What I mean is nothing. He didn't tell me to shut up, berate me, hit me, and he also didn't fall for it.

So there I was, sitting on my bed in my tropical prison, wondering what is to become of me. The fight mostly gone, the despair seeping ever- so- slowly into my conscious mind. Then it happened.

Joe had me outside washing the windows with vinegar, water and old newspapers. He was in an unusually good mood. "I'll be back in two hours. Make sure you're finished and make some dinner. I want that bass I caught the other day. You know how I like it prepared. Less salt this time."

I acknowledged him with a nod. He walked to the ATV and said, without turning around,

"Need anything Boppers?"

I froze. I turned towards him, and I saw he froze too, still showing me his back.

My nickname in junior high was Lindy. Some other friends started calling me Lindy Boppers. That name stuck throughout high school. I hated it, but I allowed my close friends the indulgence. This voice sounded familiar, suddenly. After quickly clearing my mind, I started dressing him down, starting at his shaved head. Something about his gait also now made me think I knew this man. My curiosity overrode my fear. He just stood there. I wondered if he was afraid to face me.

Then it hit me. "Daryl?!" I asked.

He turned to look me in the eye. He knew, and he knew I knew.

"Daryl Johns" I said incredulously. "But why?"

He placed a finger to his lips. "Shhh. When I return. Make a nice dinner Linda. Red or white wine?"

I was so stupefied, I simply shrugged.

I'm surprised that I'd been able to coherently complete my assigned task. My thoughts were racing at supersonic speed and I felt physically sick because of it. Daryl Johns had gone to high school with me. I had limited contact with him. I would have had no contact at with him at all, had he not been best friends with my boyfriend. Robbie and I started dating near the end of our senior year. He was average in almost every sense of the word, but he was comfortable. He was funny, and kind, and he worshiped me. Flowers for Valentine's was off the table. Actually, he'd bring me flowers, but in addition, he'd use the gift money from Christmas to take me to some swanky restaurant. On my birthday it would be shopping for a new outfit with his money. It was on one such excursion, where I found the perfect little senior prom dress.

No one after high school had ever called me Lindy or 'Boppers'. Almost no one outside of my sister, and Jim knew about Robbie committing suicide. My sister found out the same way I did. Jim learned because I needed to tell someone to relieve my guilt. No, I didn't kill my ex-boyfriend. Hell, I didn't do anything, I thought. But the guilt was indescribable.

The last time I saw Daryl Johns was at Robbie's funeral, albeit briefly. I remember the way he stared at me, like I was dead meat walking. Something should have told me then to be worried. Robert Fulton hung himself five years after we graduated. An uncontrollable shiver went through me, wondering if Joe- Daryl- knew something about Robbie. I'm sure he knew the one thing; the source of my endless guilt.

Jim

Time is a funny thing. You hear that often, in books and movies, especially those romance ones that, Linda and I used to watch after the kids were in bed. I'd heard it from my parents and Linda's parents too, both before and after the...incident. Incident. That was the new unbiased term my counselor said I should try to use. September was only a few days away now, and five full months had passed. I had been getting my head back on straight, yet I was struggling with the loss of the one I loved most in the world, but still held on to some of the hate for what she'd done to me.

It was complicated. My wife, the mother of my children, had been snatched, easily, completely from under my nose. The rest of the world empathized with me, but only because of my wife having been snatched in a kidnapping. None of them, not one, had had to deal with the crushing humiliation at the club, when I'd been led to believe my wife had left to fuck Marc 'The Asshole' LaValliere. Most in my family had a hard time accepting my outrage. They wondered, silently, if Linda and I had actually had the kind of marriage we'd portrayed. They saw Linda's 'gone' status with different eyes.

Through all of it, though, Ellen was there for me. She was a great listener. She'd make those darned notes, and then never divulge what she wrote, which confounded me.

As is all too common, the client/ therapist relationship developed into something else. Ellen disagreed- not with our relationship status, but rather with my terminology. She considered me her patient. I'd argue that I wasn't sick. She'd say that was true, but I was certainly injured and needed to heal. I was in recovery for my injuries. I let that go, and would make light of it. "Well, I can accept that. Cause I would definitely NOT date my doctor."

It was dinner, occasionally. No dancing. No sex. Not even kissing, although we'd had our share of long hugs. Still, I could feel, rather than sense the change. Our dynamic was shifting every time we saw each other, inching towards the other thing. I doubted it would be much longer.

Jane had been true to her word, and I respected her for that. I think part of Jane's willingness to help my family centered around the destruction of hers. For the first four months, her relationship with Phil had become increasingly worse by the day. Phil was a walking cliché -- the worst midlife crisis ever, given ugly, human form. He was recklessly searching for his freedom, while systematically and deliberately while deliberately and systematically distancing himself from his wife and kids. Jane claimed it was due to the relentless guilt he carried over the Linda 'incident'. She often wondered what might have happened if he'd agreed to therapy; if someone could have only helped him with his self-destructive tendencies.

Jane would get us a glass of wine, or herself a scotch rocks and me a beer for the tougher nights. We'd let the kids go off to play video games and we would talk, sometimes long after they fell asleep. We both needed the balance, to keep our lives in order. One night near the end of July, on a particularly rough day for Jane, we drank a bit too much and made out on the sofa. Knowing the kids were sleeping soundly, we nonverbally invited each other to my bedroom. Once the clothes were shed though, Jane realized at the same time I did, we were both still married.

"I'm sorry Jane. I got carried away, forgive me please." I said turning away. She quickly dressed and came behind m, wrapping her arms around me. "No apology necessary. If I thought we were ready for this, the piece of paper wouldn't matter to me. That part is what it is. My bigger concern is the strong feelings I'm forming for you. I'm afraid of them, not because of us, but because we don't know our future. I mean, no one does, but we have too many question marks hanging in the wind."

I agreed, telling her that my feelings were becoming stronger too. She said she was too drained to wake the kids and drive home. I offered the spare room, which she gladly took. Lately, she's staying a few nights per week and it's platonic for now. I understood that I am and have been mixed up. Now there were two women vying for my attention, and to be honest, it's possible I'd fall for both.

This morning, Monday, I received a call from Jane.

"Jim, is there any possibility you can leave work and come home?" She sounded worried and anxious.

"What is it Jane? Are the kids okay?" Now she had me panicking.

"They're fine. I found...something."

"What?"

"I think you need to see it, rather than me try to explain."

After a quick chat with my boss, I drove home. Jane was sitting in the living room, with all of Linda's high school yearbooks on the coffee table. I gave her a quizzical look.

"Sit down Jim. Let me show you something I think is important."

She pointed at a photo of a rag top kid, with a geeky look. "Do you know him?" she asked.

I didn't, but looked at his name. "I don't, but I think that's Linda's high school boyfriend. He's dead."

Jane nodded her agreement. "Robert Fulton." She moved Linda's senior yearbook in front of me.

"Do you know him?" I saw another picture and again glanced at the name. "Daryl Johns? No."

"Well I do. That's Joe Jackson!" she exclaimed.

It didn't register, at first. It was almost like my brain tried to un-hear what I'd heard.

"What?"

"This guy, kid...he's Joe Jackson, Marc LaValliere's body double. The guy we hired to play...for the incident." At least she was now kind enough to let that sink in.

I've been speechless other times, certainly during the past six months. But I just sat there in shock.

Jane pulled me out of my stupor. "Jim, I don't see anything in any of these that associates Linda and Daryl. He didn't sign her book, or anything. But here's a picture of Robert and Daryl at the prom."

I looked again, starting to worry about what there was to see. Robert and Daryl were identified in the pic and the footer said it was the senior prom. Robert's head was down, but his eyes had looked up over his brow at the photographer. He looked like he just lost his dog. Daryl, sitting to his right, had the look of utter hatred as he tried a weak half smile for the camera.

"Jim, what are the chances, or should I say the odds, that Linda just happened to know her abductor in high school?"

I immediately called L.W. As I told him, he was not surprised and asked me to calm down.

"We know who he is. The feds got his real name a while ago. They've been looking for Mr. Johns and Joe Jackson."

This day was turning out worse than I imagined.

In a calm measured voice, I asked, "So tell me, old friend, when did you start disrespecting me too? When did you decide I was worth lying to?"

"It's not like that Jim. Not at all. I had no idea how much Linda may or may not have told you about her past. You've been feeling better. I didn't want to take the risk. Make you worry unnecessarily about something that would only raise more questions than answers. That's my call so I made it."

"Not your call at all, L.W. The next time it happens, family friend or not, you're fired. Got it?"

L.W. resigned formally as my attorney less than 48 hours later, and made public his full retirement. In his wisdom, he realized he was no longer needed as my attorney, and that he'd let personal feelings get in the way of doing his job.

What was I left with? More lies. More deceit. More betrayal. Not so much from L.W. He did what he had to do, at least from his perspective. The idea that Linda had gone to school with this...Daryl...cemented in my mind that he was far more a paramour than an abductor. It cemented that Linda had made choices. Horrible, evil choices. Why else would Jackson, or Johns, suddenly decide to steal from his boss? Cause a media circus with a celebrity, get the feds involved...for what? Unless he and Linda planned this. It seemed less and less likely that we'd find them, or that they'd return. Why would she do it? I kept going back to that. I thought I knew her better than anyone alive. Learning how wrong you are about something like that does serious damage to your psyche. I trudged forward, hoping that soon, this nightmare would somehow be behind me.

Linda

That night when I first discovered Joe was indeed Daryl Johns, while having my first glass of wine...I should say bottle and a half...in over six months. Still, the alcohol barely numbed the revelations, in what turned out to be the very worst night of my life.

Daryl, was in fact, the same person, best friend of my former boyfriend Robert Fulton. Robert Fulton, the deceased. He laid it out so very systematically. It was if he'd practiced the conversation over and over many times. In fact, he had. I recall the conversation as though it just happened.

"Why Daryl? I never did anything to you!" I said in my desperation at some point.

"Ah, but what you did to my friend Robbie, that..."

"He was my friend too!" I nearly shouted.

"Don't you ever say that, you bitch!" Daryl leaned forward and snarled.

"No friend could ever so totally devastate another human being. Make him take his own life."

"What is it exactly you think I did to Robbie, whatever you think, you're mistaken." I said sitting up straight.

Daryl looked at me as if to say 'the audacity of this woman' and then chuckled. "Jesus, you really don't know, do you? You're so self-centered, so damned self-absorbed, it doesn't even register with you. Goddammit you're an evil bitch."

Daryl placed his drink (he'd opted for bourbon) and went to the bedroom we shared. It was an open closet. I saw him pull one of his duffle bags down from the top cupboard. I could hear him rummaging through his things. I wondered if he might reappear with a gun.

What he brought back was our high school senior yearbook. Daryl quickly flipped through some pages. He'd obviously folded a few corners down for a presentation he'd anticipated for a long time.

"Look at this and tell me what you see," he said, shoving the book in my lap.

I studied the photo. I was dancing with my boyfriend Robbie. "That's me and Robbie, dancing..."

"NO! Look at it closely and tell me what you see." His voice much more urgent.

"We're looking at each other." I said. I wasn't sure what he wanted from me.

"Yes, and what are you doing? What is that look?."

I studied the picture. I was looking up into Robbie's eyes and he returned my gaze with...was that lust? Adoration? Or worse, love?

"You see it now, don'tcha bitch?" he asked, his disgust of me apparent.

"Yes."

"Flip to the next marked page."

I did. There was Robbie and Daryl, sitting at one of the round banquet tables. Was it even the same night? Robbie looked...beaten. Daryl looked like he had most days since we arrived here.

"I...I don't understand." I whispered truthfully.

"I can see that you don't. That's part of the problem. People like you should come with some sort of warning label tattooed to your foreheads."

Daryl sat back down and took a long draw of the whiskey as I went back and forth from the first page to the second.

"I'm gonna tell you a little story, you clueless witch. I met Robbie on the second day after my parents moved into his neighborhood. A month later, I was starting at a new school, second grade. I was petrified, like most little kids are in those circumstances. When the class bully, Troy MacDonald, decided the new kid was an easy target, I knew life was going to be fucked.

"Still, I wasn't going to be the wuss. I'd stand up, and take my beating in front of all my new classmates. Before the punch landed to my face, a lightning bolt in the form of one Robert Fulton came crashing in from my left, tackling MacDonald. Then Robbie started beating him in the face like that kid in The Christmas Story.

"That was the beginning of our lifelong friendship. I was thankful and eternally grateful to Robbie. The bully never bothered him or I again, until prom night." He seemed to want to give me time to digest that, but I still couldn't see where this was going.

"I met Larissa 5 months before prom. I was the one who suggested to Robbie he ask the one girl in school he couldn't get his mind off of. Even with my prodding, he felt you were out of his league. Why, I'm not sure. Your beauty came with age. In my opinion, you were pretty much gangly and homely back then, but he didn't see it that way. Imagine his surprise when you said yes."

I too had been surprised. My boyfriend had just dumped me not two weeks before Robbie had first approached me in home room. That shallow boy, had found a Maserati in one of the sluts from homecoming court. He'd traded in the Honda Civic, me, which had wounded my pride and self-esteem. Robbie hadn't just asked me almost three months early, so I couldn't use all the normal excuses; he was also a very nice boy. He was funny, kind, and he'd treated me like a queen, which had helped to salve my wounded ego.

He was a shy boy though. I had to ask him out for our first date. Certainly his charm wasn't lost on me. I caught myself grinning and blushing far too often. He also sated a desire to have my friends see me with a new guy. As much as I became enamored to Robbie prior to prom night, I knew it was temporary. I'd be off to college in the fall, and off to start my life. Why not give him an experience to remember? A high school memory to last a lifetime. At least until he found the love of his life.

"You were everything to him, you know?" Daryl brought me out of my reminiscence.

"No I wasn't. We barely knew each other. It was only 3 or so months."

"Yeah, 3 months." He spat bitterly. "Long enough."

It started to dawn on me, as I pieced together that night in the gym. Daryl was blaming me in the most heinous and egregious way. He stood up and threw his half full bourbon glass at the wall with everything he could put into it.

"Look at the pictures again dammit. LOOK AT THEM!" He screamed through me with all the vitriol he could muster.

I complied. "Look how happy he is on the dance floor, with his...whore. See that other picture? Pure devastation. You stupid bitches think a man who falls for you, can't tell the difference between your first best smile and everything else? It's been that way since the cavemen. In fact, they were better at it. They saw through brighter eyes."

"Robbie was right there at the table with me when Mac...asked me to dance. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Right. You keep believing that you self-centered bitch. It wasn't bad enough that you danced four songs with him, including slow dances. Then you fucking left with that bastard. Left with Robbie's arch enemy, Troy fucking MAC Donald."

The words stung hard and cut deep, as I made the connection. Mac was what we'd all called him then. As I looked up, to look at Daryl, I saw he was weary of this discussion, and for the first time since he brought me here, I feared for my life. Daryl, fell, rather than sa, back onto his chair and grabbed the bottle, drinking directly from it.

"You didn't even have the decency to tell your boyfriend you were leaving," Daryl said, much calmer now.

"That's not true." I sounded pathetic through my tears. "I looked for him. He was nowhere in the gym."

Daryl provided a sarcastic laugh, "He was in the boy's room, puking his guts out. A result of your first best smile and also where Mac had his hands."

We sat in reflective silence for several minutes. Daryl broke the quiet. "Why? Why did you do that to Robbie? What did he ever do to you to deserve that?"

"I...I don't know. I was the plain girl. Yes, I dated a jock. But he dumped me. My self-esteem was all over the place. Mac was the star quarterback. While we danced, he filled my head with things. He said I deserved this. One night where everyone we knew could see me leave with him. I told him I wanted it, but couldn't do that to Robbie. He laughed at that, then said if I really wanted to, I could go back to the him tomorrow, no hard feelings.

" Robbie was a true friend. He actually cared about me. We hadn't even have sex yet. I thought, I could have my one night and then I'd go back to Robbie and he'd understand. He'd know me, how I felt. Plain old, same old me. And I'd make it up to him. I was only a kid." I began to sob as the enormity overcame me. "Only he never talked to me again. Wouldn't take my calls, avoided me at all costs in school. A month later we'd both graduated and were on to bigger things."

Daryl wasn't finished with the proverbial knife though. "Ha, just a kid. It worked so well the first time, you decided to do the exact same thing to your husband? Looks like some people just never learn."

I had my face buried in my hands as reality washed over me like a wave on Maui's north shore. That thought sent a shiver down my spine. What if I'd done the same thing to Jim as I had to Robbie? Surely, he'd known by the next morning that it was all a set up. Our friends would have told him about the joke. Just a little fun. The pretense of an event with a capital E. Still, I hadn't come back, so I couldn't explain myself. So what if he took it like Robbie had? It was starting to dawn on me that I might have a lot of mending to do if and when I got home. How had I missed all this?

"Tell me something; I've been wondering. Did you have sex with Troy that night?" Daryl was much calmer now.

"No...I was...a virgin."

"So, no kissing? No blowjob?" he asked, as if already knowing the answer. I didn't give him one.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Plus he bragged to anyone who'd listen that he got in your panties. So much for virtue."

I needed to know. Despite the horrible person he'd painted, this might be the moment that I could use to get free. "Why are YOU doing this? Sick revenge? How do you know I was the reason?"

"Ah, now we get to the rub. Okay, Linda. After the prom, Robbie was a mess for weeks. I stayed with him and helped him through it. He'd been there for me since second grade, as I told Larissa when she got pissed I wasn't spending enough time with her. I had to see it through. He was getting better, and was off to college in the fall. The job he had that summer at the grain mill, kept him very busy. That gave me more quality time with Larissa.

"Well, life took over. I spoke to Robbie often at school. He seemed well, at least somewhat normal. I was starting to feel some relief for him. Larissa and I got engaged our junior year. Robbie was my best man. He looked...fine.

Fast forward four years, and Larissa jumped into my arms after work one day, announcing we were pregnant. We were on top of the world. Two months later, my wife and unborn child were snuffed out needlessly by an eighteen- year- old flying high on meth." Daryl had severe pain behind his tears. His voice had gone down an octave, and the eye contact was gone.

"Now I was the one who was depressed. I reached out to my friend, only to find he was even in worse shape than me. Clinical. Maybe a relapse, maybe something happened in that last year of college. Regardless, he wasn't there, and I wasn't there. Eleven months later I got the call. They found him swinging from a rafter in his parents' basement. Needless to say, he never really got over you.

When I saw you at the funeral, I swore to myself, if I could ever hurt you, cause you some pain of any kind then I would, for Robbie."

I went to the small fridge to see if Daryl had been gracious in his wine purchasing endeavors. I guess we were on a budget. Bringing an empty glass, I asked for a shot of bourbon.

Daryl continued unsolicited. "Imagine my elation. The sheer irony of it all. I'm recruited by the NFL. Mark LaValliere's attorney drafts an employment contract for four years. High six figures later, and my engineering degree means nothing at all. I play my role in public. Deal with all the camera flashes. Walk into an engagement, security gives the all clear, I go behind the curtain, and out walks the legendary tight end.

"Money and plenty of women. I had it all, but I still thought often about my wife and my friend. Then one day, a friend calls and invites me to a meeting, when I might get paid to pull a prank. They show me your picture. My brain goes into overdrive. Here's my chance to set the world right. I'd already been siphoning off Marc's bank account, slowly so no one would notice. The contract renewal upcoming I was dreading, and I'd already banked nearly $3million,plus a little over a half mil I stole from Marc. He's probably missing the last withdrawal of $400K but I wrote a lot of smaller checks that, he'd never miss unless he audited his bank statement.

"Now I had a purpose. I felt like an avenger. A real life avenger. I suggested to your friends how we might do it at the club. Shit, it wasn't hard. All I had to do was remember the details from the prom. Actually, I convinced them to do it exactly as I laid it out. And of course, you and your stupid friends went right along. I was worried you'd recognize me, even with my shaved head. But then I realized, you already had it in mind that I was fantasy Marc. You'd be thinking and dreaming about that, and a high school acquaintance with a full head of hair wouldn't be on your radar.

"I was set to destroy you. Your husband and family were collateral damage and I felt bad about that at first. Then it dawned on me that he and your kids would be better off without you. Hell, everyone would be better off without you. You killed my friend, whether you meant to or not, as surely as if you'd put a gun to his head. I watched the look on your husband's face while we danced, when I wasn't playing the part of the seducer. He looked just like Robbie did. The difference was, your friends already had a plan to keep him at your table. I'm the one who held Robbie back. Second grade was one thing. Robbie was 5'7" maybe 5'8" and a buck fifty. Mac was big jock, over six feet, and had at least fifty pounds on Robbie. I didn't want to see him humiliated by you AND then beaten silly in front of our whole class. I decided you weren't worth the trouble."

It took me most of a week to get my head around all what Daryl had told me. Then the depression set in. I was a horrible person, and I'd ruined lives through my actions. The way he told the sordid story, I was entertaining doubt as to how Jim had reacted...was now reacting. Was some other woman providing comfort? One of the women from our small group of friends? Since they were co-conspirators, Jim had probably disowned them. How utterly stupid had I been?

And what kind of monster had I been to Robbie? Just a sensitive, kind boy who'd tried to help me. Soon, though, self-preservation returned to the forefront, and I put all of those things out of my mind. I couldn't control them after all. What I could control, was working on a way out of here. If nothing else, I had to somehow make amends for the things I'd done, people I'd hurt.

Daryl warmed to me after his identity was revealed. I can't take the credit for that. I think that his own guilt was more a factor than my play-acting the good little slave and captive. Of course, I still did that. I cooked, cleaned, and followed his every order. I never denied him my body. I never went asking, but I knew better than to turn him down. Faking orgasms became the norm. Without much difficulty, I became his wife of convenience, his woman in chains.

But, the more time passed, the more distant he'd become. After two years spending every single day all day together, I knew him well. I had a bad feeling he was tiring of this life of revenge, and yearned to move on. That wouldn't bode well for me, so I upped my efforts with the floor bolt.

The floor bolt was the center of gravity for my captivity, and now the center of all my attention. The only tools I had at my disposal were a butter knife and, I supposed, the cast iron skillet we cooked in. The latter would come in handy as my one and only weapon, but first, I'd need to get free. Nothing was going to alter or loosen the 3/8" chain link. The ankle brace attached to the chain was still tight, two years after losing weight all over my body. Daryl switched ankles every second or third day, depending.

That left the floor. Wood is softer and easier to manipulate than steel, or so I thought. I learned much later this floor was milled from the Ironwood tree that was indigenous to the Cayman Islands. The wood was so dense and heavy that it was one of only a few worldwide that sank in water.

My first attempts almost got me caught. If not for Daryl's melancholic moods, I'm sure he'd have noticed, and that would not have been good for me. Scraping the floor around the large bolt that I surmised went deep into the wood, and possibly a ledger below that, left marks that could be seen with the naked eye. Fortunately, I saw it early and had time to find a solution before Daryl returned. After trying and failing with oil, some cleaning supplies, and toiletry products, I found that lime juice soaking the wood hid the scratches best. Over the next few weeks, I used the juice from fresh limes, ripped up pieces of toilet paper, and my own spit on the wood shavings to hide my work. It took almost as long to patch up the floor to make it look flat and normal, as it did to chip away at it. Daryl was buying more limes at my request, passing it off as now being a craving in our meals.

My worst fear, besides being caught, was my meager progress. At the rate I was going, I feared I might run out of time. So time itself was now as much an enemy as Daryl. My captor was becoming more distant, easily agitated, and less eager to take me sexually. That combination made me shiver whenever I thought about it.

With more time alone in bed, I was left with my thoughts. Some nights those thoughts made me want to give up. Sure, it was easy to make excuses for my actions. We all do that without much introspection. He'd never really been my boyfriend, right? We'd only known each other three months. Surely we'd both known it wouldn't last past graduation. We'd never discussed being exclusive.

Then of course, societal issues crept in. All girls wanted, maybe deserved the prince-their knight in shining armor. To be the princess of the ball.

Every one of those excuses fell apart when I thought about what I'd done to my husband. Jim had been the perfect mate for the 12 years I'd known him; almost ten, we'd been man and wife. He was a great father. He loved our kids for sure, but he was also wise and able to care for them. I cried, remembering that I'd missed our ten year anniversary, bearing the brunt of extreme guilt knowing that I was the cause of my own absence.

Every night I fell down the rabbit hole, I arrived at the same conclusion: something was wrong with me. I had a thinking problem, perhaps even a mental problem, where I couldn't decipher the consequences of my actions, especially not the effects they had on the hearts and minds of others. There'd been no difference between Robbie and Mac, other than that Mac had been bigger, stronger and THE STAR quarterback. So in all honesty, it was about who I'd be seen with. Who would be gossiping about Mac and I the next several days. Talk about a Cinderella Complex, I thought. When I'd think about that, and the things I would need to do to fix myself, once free, it became almost too much. I'd always focus back to the situation at hand, which of course was earning my freedom.

Jim

My personal hell seemed to always be just around a corner, waiting to jump out at me. It was hard for me to believe, sometimes, that everyone else was healing, even though the evidence was all around me.

By that first Thanksgiving, since Linda's disappearance, Jane and Phil were already separated, and waiting for the final decree of their divorce. There was never a doubt, it had been hard on Jane, however Phil was in the rearview. Jane was already moving on. I admired her strength, and optimism, considering her future was so much up in the air.

Jane, and more specifically, her positive attitude, had been a godsend. It had taken some time for that to permeate into my heart. She never stopped being amazing. She still was. I wanted that same thing, yet there seemed to be a black hole, not within my heart, but somewhere outside, sucking all the joy from me.

Those meals on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays really helped me tremendously. All the positive energy of our kids' laughter, and raucous banter made me remember what happy felt like. We wouldn't even give the kids dessert until they came down a few notches on the excitement level. Jane and I would always retire to the living room and talk. Damn that woman loved to talk, about any and everything. Jane had better adapted than I, to be honest. On those evenings, I sometimes felt like this was my real family. Of course, I knew how silly that was, and yet I allowed the warm feelings to keep me outside my own head.

Her enthusiasm for a future whose details she wasn't even sure of inspired me. Sometimes, it made me skeptical, but I knew in those times, it was just the darkness seeking its way back in.

I'd spoken to Ellen about her often, more than often, truth be told. I talked about the fear, the hesitance, and even the disbelief that everyone else was really doing better. I tried to explain how, unlike Jane, I couldn't feel optimistic for a future that I couldn't actually see. Maybe it was hesitance. As a result, I'd just been trudging along on the edge of an abyss.

Ellen would state simply, and to distraction, "Life goes on, Jim." It seemed so simple. I just wasn't getting it.

I also told her about me and Jane - or, more precisely, the lack of a "me and Jane." We'd never made it to bed together. It was no slight against her. She was charming, witty, and beautiful. She was loyal. She was keeping me from falling into the abyss. I could frame it as fear, guilt, or hesitance and I tried to sometimes, during our sessions. Ellen saw through it. I finally admitted to myself that Jane just wasn't right. Even though I couldn't see what my future was, I knew what it wasn't. It wasn't "me and Jane." We'd become great friends. Wistfully, that's what we would probably always be.

Ellen, on the other hand was very clinical in her approach to me. I'd thought, we were either very much alike, or she was incredibly good at her job. We often found ourselves in carefree discussions after the sessions. There were also the occasional light touches on the arm. When that happened, Ellen would immediately slip back into professional mode.

Christmas came, and it was complicated but good for me. The kids and I had split up our time between the grandparents, Jane and her kids, and surprisingly, Ellen and her daughter, Meagan. Extra gifts, more dinners, four trips at least to see the neighborhood light show on Candy Cane were even a better distraction than my weeknights with Jane. They ate up all the time I would've spent wallowing. For a few weeks, I simply didn't have time to get in my own way.

It all came together: Jane, the kids, the dinners, the talks, the drinks, and the therapy. Something clicked. Something mended. On January 10, after an extremely upbeat counseling session, I'd fumbled over the words.

"Um, Ellen? Would you like to...I mean, could I...take you out to dinner sometime?" I'd swallowed hard waiting for the obligatory professional rejection. But she'd surprised me. It wasn't the darkness coming around that corner again. It was heavenly.

"Geez, Jim. I thought you might never ask!" she exclaimed, her face was as jovial as I'd seen it to that point. Before I gathered myself and wiped the shock off my face, she'd gone on. "Of course, I'd love to go to dinner, but only if we can do a little dancing afterwards. Do you ballroom or two-step?"

"I can do a little of both, though not too well. I prefer the two-step, truth be told." I'd tried to give a little mischievous smile. Her smile had broadened, "Well in that case, ask away my good fellow." She'd done a weak impersonation of Hitchcock there at the end.

Dinner the following Friday was the best time I'd had in a long time. We'd drank the drink and danced the dance. It was...wonderful. A few times in my mind, I'd told myself, "remember, Jim, you're on the rebound". All those worries had washed away, when I'd taken Ellen home. The electric kiss at her door, quickly led us through the door. Clothes started flying in her vestibule; a trail littered the floor back to her bedroom. Meagan was spending the night with a neighbor friend. Ellen had known exactly what she was doing. She had set the pace, at least the first two times. I'd taken over after that. Ellen was both emotionally engaged and physically charged. She was an excellent kisser, which helped us create a bond, and I loved how she kissed me.

We'd showered together in the morning and it had felt...normal, although I'm not sure why I was expecting it wouldn't. After breakfast, Ellen had observed me lost in my thoughts. "Jim, don't overthink it. I can see it on your face. I'd be lying, obviously, if I denied having strong feelings for you. But right now, it's just fun...and sex, I suppose. Let things work out organically. Our relationship as doctor/ patient won't suffer. I promise I won't let it."

"And what if I don't want to be the patient anymore?" I'd asked, looking down, stirring my coffee with my fork. "What if that ship has sailed?"

Without hesitation, she'd replied, "Then we'll deal with that too."

And we did; deal with it. Our Valentine's celebration had been one for the record books. We'd driven two towns over to try a new seafood restaurant I'd been dying to enjoy. There we'd gotten a room at a Hilton Suites a block over. It wasn't The Madison, but it was nice, and the fireworks lasted for several hours. I'd never done that many things sexually in one outing before. Some I'd learned that night, and the next morning, I suppose. I'd slept like the dead, and I think she had too. The next morning she'd taken me hiking in the foothills above the lake. She'd always told me the walk and the view were therapeutic, and once again, she was right. We talked rationally about what we'd done, and where we were headed. We didn't solve a lot, but I for one, felt a lot better, just that we communicated our feelings.

On February 28th, Ellen invited the kids and I to a play. I was never much for the theatre, but she had found out about a kid friendly production happening on that date, and to my surprise, we arrived to find my parents, Jane and her children, and Linda's parents sitting in our row. Afterwards, we took the kids to Dairy Queen, dressed in our swanky outfits. I wanted to say something meaningful to Ellen all night, but couldn't find the moment. When she dropped us at home, I leaned into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Thank you, Ellen. I'll never forget this." I was telling the truth. Just the fact that she'd included family an Jane, made me really take stock of just how special she was.

She smiled her best smile, and from there we were off to the races. I had less and less Linda on the brain, but oddly, it was Ellen who next brought her up. "Jim, it's been over a year. Legally, Linda has officially abandoned you and the children. What are your thoughts about that, and our own future?"

At first, I became angry, and that surprised me, a lot. Then I looked into her hesitant, yet hopeful eyes. That was the first time I admitted to myself I was falling in love with Dr. Ellen Watson.

Linda's parents decided to hire an attorney and actually fight the divorce. They just couldn't let go. I understood their plight, sadly. Letting go meant accepting a dark reality. Linda was either dead, or she had coldly left her family for another man. No parent wanted that hanging over their head. Our relationship became strained once they'd found out my intentions. I'd really relied on Linda's folks, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin our relationship. Fortunately, we had all kept a civil tongue in our heads, and nothing was ever said or done that couldn't be undone. Mostly, we did so for the children, but it contributed to a mutual understanding later on. The most important talk we ever had was about the need to move on. They realized it was exactly what I'd needed for my own happiness.

Ellen accepted Jane as my friend, and they also became closer. As a casual observer, I'd say they became better friends than Jane and Linda had been. That isn't to say they didn't disagree about how to 'handle' me. Jane was fiercely loyal as always, with Ellen playing the 'psychologist knows best' card a little too frequently. A few times I had to separate the two, reminding them that I was my own man, and by the way, standing in the same room.

Honestly, without the love - absolute love is all I can describe it as - from both Ellen and Jane, I don't think I would have made it. The divorce was final three days before Memorial Day weekend, once Linda's parents withdrew their petition. Strangely, neither Ellen nor I seemed in any hurry to talk marriage. She was calculating as a person, and I was being deliberate. Besides, we were having an awful lot of fun together. Just before the new school year, Ellen asked to talk after dinner one night. We looked silly there, at Giovanni's with our checkered bibs, saving our nice clothes from the red sauce.

"Jim, I have a proposal I'd like you to consider." Shit, I thought, here we go. "The lease on my apartment is coming due for renewal. We spend a lot of money with me being all the way across town from one another. And...I'm wondering if you'd think about a few...roommates? I'm asking if we, Meagan and I might move in. I'd help financially with the two extra bedrooms you were thinking of adding on over the garage, or I'd be willing to go in halves on a new larger home if you want that instead."

She wanted to move in. I was petrified. Time to put up or shut up, I guessed. Ellen was right. I'd talked often about adding two more rooms upstairs and the cheapest way was to build over the garage. The upstairs hallway could be expanded, and, with just one very short 45 degree angle, flow right into them. It had been especially tough when Jane had started staying the night. We didn't have a spare room. I'd had to convert the very small half office room into an extra bedroom. I'd replaced our ruptured air mattress shortly after the 'incident', and we had already gone through two more. Damned kids.

This thought process forced Ellen and I out of our storybook life, and thrust us into a more serious discussion about our future lives together. I didn't like the idea of selling and then buying a new house. For the kids' sake, I thought it best to stay and make the improvements. Ellen was adamant that we should live together for a bit before making any life altering decisions. I felt...relieved. Surprisingly, to me anyway, I also felt guilt. It had been only a year and a few months since Linda had walked out of my life, if that was what she'd actually done. For the longest time, I'd felt slighted and angry. I'd been betrayed cruelly and publicly. Between being instantly forced into singe-parenthood, and dealing with all the other things surrounding my arrest, defense, and finances, I think I'd just ridden that wave.

Now, things were calming and settling back into normal life. So why wasn't I happier? I felt I was, but was it true happiness or distraction? My kids were becoming better adjusted all the time, and therapy had diminished to twice per month. Their grades were good. I had support from my family, and even from Linda's parents, even with the divorce they were still in my corner. I had Ellen and all the intimacy that came with that. I had Jane, a great female friend and someone I could really count on. The one thing I didn't have was closure. So, that had to be it.

Ellen and I talked about it, all the time. Once again, with patience and now, love, she helped me cross the abyss. She argued that if, in fact, I ever found out what happened to Linda, I would be lucky. She said perhaps fortunate was a better word. The reality was, it was doubtful that we'd see Linda again, and the odds diminished with each passing day. The question was, could I find a way to truly get on with my life? Live a purposeful and happy life, putting myself at the center, while building up those around me with my great outlook?

"Let me put it this way," Ellen said. "Let's say that Linda was asked to dance by the real Marc LaValliere or some other celebrity that night. She left with him, came home the next day, claiming everything would be okay, that she loved only you, and all the other misguided things selfish people try to project onto their partner."

I actually cut her off, and said "I'd have walked straight out the door, sought an immediate divorce. Kids or no kids."

"You didn't let me finish. Of course I know you well enough by now to know, that, regardless of your decision, you'd always be second guessing it. For instance, you'd do some research, discovering that 'divorce' kids with happy parents are more well-adjusted later in life than kids who grow up in an unhappy home with both parents. Still you would wonder. It would be hard to get a resolution on that. A 100% guarantee that you did the right thing."

"Likewise, if you would have stayed for the kids, regardless if Linda had bent over backwards trying to make it up to you, you'd always wonder what life would be like if you would have left. So in the end, Jim, it's what I always say, 'trust that things will work out, and they will'."

She was right. Smart lady. I needed to create my own resolution. I needed to be at peace with it, and the decision I made. So we began the expansion on our modest home. See there, I said 'our' as in Ellen and me. So I guess I was already working through the things that sat just outside of my conscious mind.

By the holidays, our little home was almost double its original square footage. The value was way up, but the best thing was that there was no more need for an air mattress -- well, unless we were going camping. Everyone including Meagan, had their own room, and we were able to add 5' to the old office, so in a pinch we had a guest room or two. On Christmas morning, after all the kids had opened their presents, it was my turn. Both sets of grandparents and Ellen's mom were in our living room, when I got down on one knee, with the overpriced engagement ring and popped the question. Elation, screaming, happy tears, and then even more screams and cheers all erupted. Ellen donned a contented look the rest of the day, like she somehow knew this day would come.

That night in bed, Ellen showed me how happy she was, three times. By New Year's Eve, we had agreed on a July wedding. Life was good.

I almost passed out when my former mother-in-law said the words. I've seen it many times in movies, and women call it fainting. I said "What?" Obviously, that wasn't all I wanted to say, but dammit, that's all that came out. I felt like an idiot. I felt like a lot of things just then.

Linda was alive.

That in itself wasn't all that much of a surprise. I'd been operating under the assumption she'd left me and abandoned our children, after all. Shocked doesn't even begin to cover how I felt finding out what really happened to Linda.

"Why didn't they call me?" I don't know why I was asking stupid questions.

Mom hesitated. I had treated them like family through all this, giving them full access to their grandchildren. "You...I mean, you're divorced Jim."

Oh yeah.

"Yes...of course. Sorry, Mom. This is just..." I trailed off.

"I know Jim. We're happy beyond belief, but speechless too." She took her time with me. "Jim, we're going to pick Linda up at the airport and bring her home with us for now. Her father wants to be there with her when the FBI gets her statement. They promised it will only take an hour or two, so they can close their case."

"How did she get away?"

"There will be time for all that, Jim. Suffice it to say, she was held prisoner from the night she disappeared, by Daryl Johns, and when he finally made a mistake, she had to kill the bastard to get free. She's going to need a lot of help...therapy...to get through this, I'm told. The officials came over from Grand Cayman, to Cayman Brac...that's where he kept her, and she was held in a cell for almost a week, as they dragged their feet checking out her story. We're just livid about that, but glad it's finally over.

"Jim? She's going to want to see you and the children as soon as possible. I'm calling you now to make you aware, but also to ask you...actually beg you...please don't be hard on her. She's been through enough. Can you hold out on all the tough questions until she gets her feet under her? Please, it's going to be hard enough on her, as it is."

That's when I fainted.

Mom was calling my name through the phone, frantically, as I came to. I apologized, promised I'd be kind and respectful, but I wouldn't pretend to be the loving, joyous husband. She understood and promised to prepare Linda for that before the reunion.

The first thing I did was odd. In those early days, I'd been almost obsessed trying to figure out how a plane could just disappear in the modern age with two passengers. I'd pulled up the map app on my phone and typed in Cayman Brac. It had definitely been an easy jump from Cuba, to that largely unpopulated island. The FBI probably had had plenty of other things on their plate, besides a normal, suburban housewife.

Just then, Ellen came through the door, followed by Tommy, Emma, and Ellen's daughter, Megan. They'd been to the mall. Ellen saw my face and immediately sent the kids outside to play.

"OH my God, Jim, what is it? What's happened?"

Ellen had been despondent from the moment I had given her the news until we went to bed. The next morning hadn't been any better. I'd taken a half day and went to her office around noon.

"Ellen" I said, poking my head into her office door. "Honey, do you have any more appointments today?"

"No" she said without looking up.

"Okay, come on. Let's go for a walk by the lake and get a coffee." She didn't look up.

"Ellen, come with me" I said sternly going in to stand by her desk. She looked up, and she wore the same forlorn look on her face that she'd worn the past twenty-four hours.

"I have a lot to tell you. But before we leave I need to tell you this. I love you. You. With all my heart. We're getting married Ellen. Now let's go for a walk and work this out, like we always do."

Ellen gave the first hint of a smile. She stood, sighed and grabbed her purse. We walked and talked for three hours almost. I called Jane, who had just heard the news this morning, and was peeved that I hadn't called her right away. I told her Ellen and I were deep in conversation, and she did agree to go pick up the kids and feed them. I told her we hadn't said anything to them yet, so could she please keep it to herself until we got home.

I knew that by tonight, Linda's story would likely be on the news, since the original story had gone national due to Lavelliere. Everyone was going to know tomorrow, and our lives would once again be in turmoil. I'd also have to talk to Linda, who I was sure was chomping at the bit to see her family. I'd been surprised that neither she nor her Mother had called me yet today.

"Ellen, tomorrow the shit is going to hit the fan. You know that. If you want to face all this as my fiancé, I'd be honored if you were with me. If you don't, I'd also understand. This isn't your mess to clean up."

Then Ellen shocked me. "Jim, what are we going to do? About the house, I mean?"

"What are you asking Ellen?"

"I mean about the living arrangements. Meagan and I don't have anywhere to go, at least not on such short notice."

I just stood there stupidly. I think I understood what she was asking; it was just the fact that she was even thinking it that bothered me.

"Ellen, Why would you ask that? You're not going anywhere, unless...you're breaking up with me. Are you?"

Ellen gave me a look of pity mixed with some amount of anger. "Jim, honey. We're engaged, not married. If we were married it would actually be more complicated."

"What are you saying Ellen? Are you dumping me because Linda came back?" I was getting riled up.

"No, of course not!" she stated emphatically, "I'm saying we're not married. You're divorced. The reason on your paperwork says 'abandonment'. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure Linda could get that annulled in short order. Have you given any thought to what you're going to do? I have."

I pondered for a moment. I actually hadn't thought about that one. "Ellen, there's not much to think about. She was gone. I moved on. I'm engaged and I'm happy. Damn, you were there every step of the way. You helped me see it was time to move on. You gave me the scenario about Linda ever coming back or not. You should already know what I'm thinking."

"Yes, I was. I also remember what I said. I was trying to help you heal. I didn't want to think about her coming home. Many nights in bed, I was so nervous that I wanted to accelerate the wedding. So you'd be mine if the time ever came. But I wanted us to have a chance. I wanted forever, and I knew you needed the time, after everything."

"Okay, but I don't get what you're driving at."

"I'm saying, Jim, that you're going to have to listen to her. You're going to have to watch closely how the kids react to her. You're all going to have to go to the kids' counselors as a family. And you, my dear man, are going to have a decision to make. Dump Linda - cut her out and be scorned in the community as a heartless prick - or try to work things out. If you two find common ground, but not love or intimacy, then eventually, you can be amicable in a second divorce. If you do find your way back to each other... well, I don't even want to think about that.

"So the first thing on my mind right now is where do Meagan and I go?"

My knees got really wobbly, so I sat down on the grass. Ellen sat next to me, concerned. I turned to her and held her beautiful worried face in both hands.

"Darling, I understand what you're saying now. First, and something you taught me by the way, is not to rush into any difficult decisions without careful thought and planning. I'll have to think about what you said. I'm not sure I want to try with her. I have all I need in you."

Ellen seemed to be getting impatient. Maybe I was just dense. "I know how you feel, Jim. I'm saying you need to make the effort. For her, and the family, sure. But also for you, to get closure. It will also help Linda understand your feelings, so she can move on, and never repeat that kind of mistake. That's what you have to do. Me? I need to stop worrying that somehow you'll both reconnect. I'm not stupid. You loved her unconditionally for over ten years, until she made her big mistake."

I was dense. Ellen had it all figured. I could see why she'd worry, although I had no intention of getting back together with Linda. Beneath it all, I knew Linda well enough to see she still might not have regrets for the joke. Maybe not even for her actions at the senior prom. However, it wouldn't hurt to listen to her, in front of a neutral party.

I called Linda when I got home. We arranged for the kids and I to come to her parents' condo. When Linda and I were married, her mom and dad lived almost three hours away. When Linda disappeared, they leased a small condo to be closer to the kids, and I, suppose, me. I was glad we didn't have that long drive, as the kids would want to see their mom often.

...Or so I thought. After picking up the kids, Jane came over with her two, as support to me with all their questions. At 10 and 8 they'd have even more on their mind. More to ask. More to contemplate. Ellen strategically kept Meagan away and went to a movie. She would tell her daughter. That bothered me, to think Linda was already dividing us up, without really trying. But that too had been all Ellen.

Emma and Tommy seemed bewildered when I first spoke. I actually thought to repeat myself when Jane waved me off. Had they been so well 'fixed' they had forgotten her? For a moment I was horrified. That didn't take long as Jane wisely started fielding questions. The kids did remember. They cried. I couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or sadness. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't as 'put together' as I believed. The old stuff was milling about, just below the surface. Was I really just a broken man putting on a great sales presentation? Probably.

I held the kids, as did Jane. We talked more than I thought would benefit two children their age. Finally, we told them we were going to see their mother tomorrow afternoon, and put them down for the night. Jane brought me a beer and herself a glass of wine. We sat in silent reflection for nearly ten minutes.

"Jane, thank you for your help tonight. If I haven't said, you're a really great friend and I hope some day I can repay all you've done."

Jane sat there, somewhere else in her mind. She did say, "Thank you." I told her I was too spent to really discuss anything else today, but asked if she'd be available after I spoke with Linda tomorrow. I was relieved she told me 'yes'.

Work was...distracting. I had no idea what I would say, or wanted to say to Linda. Her mother had asked for me to cool it on my major issues for a while. What was left? "Welcome home dear"? I decided to try and listen. At least I'd discover her feelings about what she'd done to me and to her family. One thing I did know: if she was going to play the victim to the 100% level, and expect sympathy it would be a short conversation. But I fretted about where that would leave us. It would be so easy to simply say that I'd moved on, we'd all moved on, sorry about that, c'est la vie.

Tommy seemed less tentative than Emma. Linda and her parents noticed. When Linda went to hug me at the door and I side stepped her, she looked confused, hurt and somewhat angry. I needed to be true to me. And Ellen, I supposed. We ate dinner. As the kids warmed up to their mother, they asked all kinds of questions, the answers to which would be better suited for grownups. Linda herself seemed quite different to me. In fact, I was probably being rude, but I couldn't stop staring. She had definitely lost weight. Her face had also aged. Not surprising considering her situation. But her smile told me there was a new Linda inside that once naïve head of hers.

After the excitement died down, Linda asked if we could go talk somewhere. I figured out to coffee or something, but after I nodded, she headed for the backyard, and her parents large deck.

Linda

Nothing could have prepared me for my homecoming. Nothing. The minute I'd finished hugging my parents at the airport, I'd turned looking around in confusion. "Where's Jim and the kids?" I'd asked.

"They're at home, honey. Let's get your bag and get you to the car. A lot has happened, and, well, we need to talk." With that one sentence from my mother's lips, my world had collapsed again.

I hadn't even been listening all that well, as Mom had ranted on the drive. When I realized Dad was in their neighborhood, I'd screamed, "Where are we going? I need to go home."

"We are going home, dear. Haven't you been listening?" Mom had said.

I'd started listening then. It seemed the entire world had been turned upside down in my absence. Everything had changed. My husband was no longer mine. My best friend had moved in with Jim to help with the kids, and now they'd become, what? Best friends? Jim had gotten engaged to some woman.

I had been sitting there, my parents' living room for nearly four hours. They had kept their answers short, treating me as a child. They'd been spoon feeding me answers, almost seeming to be afraid I'd fall apart any minute.

"Why did he leave me?" I'd finally asked.

"Oh, he didn't leave you sweetheart." Mom had answered me.

"Didn't leave me? Well then where the hell is he right now? He's with my children, and that, woman." I'd cried out.

I remember, I'd lain in that room, thinking through all the things my parents had told me. All the people who'd abandoned me. Written me off, and turned their backs on me. I'd pondered all that as I'd tried to sleep in my childhood bed.

The morning had been no better. My own parents, I'd realized, had also moved on with their lives, and they were stuck in an impossible situation. A daughter they'd never expected to see again, and a family - my old family - they'd needed to protect. I'd had to get out for a while. Jane had answered my call on the first ring, and when I'd suggested going for a coffee, she'd come straight over to get me.

Jane had been very emotional, after hearing my recounting of the past two years. We'd cried over our coffee for nearly an hour, but I had plenty I'd needed to hear from her too.

"What the hell is going on, Jane? Please, I just need someone to shoot straight with me. I feel...so lost, like I've lost everything I've ever had. Mom seems to not know how to answer my questions."

Jane had seemed to have rehearsed her measured response. "Jim, he, thought you'd left with Joe, I mean Daryl. Later, when we discovered Joe's real identity, and that the two of you had gone to high school together, we both felt tricked. I mean, Jim was a mess. He'd been betrayed by all of us, and then, he thought, by his own wife, twice."

"Betrayed!?" I'd asked incredulously. "I'm the victim here, Jane. I'm the goddamned victim!"

Jane had tried continuously to explain as we drove back. I'd hollered for her to stop as we passed Emma and Tommy's school. It was recess; and I sat in the car watching my children. They'd been hardly recognizable after two years, but I'd picked them out. Motherly instinct, I'd supposed. Jane had held me, both of us gently rocking in her front seat for a long time. I'd wept, in utter despair, understanding for the first time what I'd lost.

Jane had tried to explain Jim's rationale. Had tried to explain this Ellen, too. She'd tried to tell me about Dee and Dave, and their impending divorce, but I'd had too many of my own problems to care then. I'd spent the rest of that afternoon watching video clips of my happy family from last Christmas. Watching my husband swooning over my replacement.

Later that night had come more heartache. My own children hadn't recognized me at first. Tommy, being the eldest, had come around, warming up to his stricken mother, while Emma had just sat uneasily through the meal. I'd forced a smile throughout the ordeal, feeling helpless with my own family in the room. Finally, first Tommy, then Emma, had begun making conversation, asking me questions that I couldn't give answers to. So I'd lied about my time away. Jim, for his part, just kept had staring at me.

I'd asked Jim to talk somewhere. I think he'd thought I'd been asking him to leave, so we could go some place private, but I'd stepped out onto my parents' back deck. Once we'd been out of sight of the others, I'd turned to face my now ex-husband and slapped him as hard as I could. I'd temporarily lost my mind in anger and hopelessness. The look on Jim's face had brought me back to reality.

"How could you?" I'd cried out. "Just drop me like a hot potato."

He'd gone straight into attack mode. "You mean like you dropped my hand to dance with Marc The Asshole LaValliere?" He'd looked like a wild man, and I had been suddenly scared.

"What?" I'd backed away, confused. "It wasn't..."

"Bulllshit!" he'd interrupted. "Yeah it was Joe or Daryl or whoever the fuck, but to me it was Marc remember?"

I'd just stood there frozen.

He'd calmed himself a bit after that, "Linda, listen to me. I waited a year. A whole god dammed year. Everything pointed to you leaving me for that asshole. It took almost the entire year to get my head on straight, while having to be both the mother and father to our kids."

I'd heard the bitterness in his voice. All I could think was, 'What the hell is wrong with everyone?". I was the victim.

"Oh, I see. I didn't escape soon enough for you." I'd answered, my reply dripping sarcasm.

"Jesus, Linda. Who are you and what happened to my wife, the woman I married and thought I knew? Let me try to break this down. I was told you would spend the night - and the morning - I guess with that asshole LaValliere. Instead you spend two years away with some other asshole. I was led out of our house like a criminal, in front of your asshole friends and our neighbors. All the while my kids are sleeping in their beds worried about their mother. I've been humiliated and destroyed, repeatedly, by the one person I always trusted to protect me."

"He raped me!" I'd screamed loudly.

In reply, Jim had shushed me. "Quiet, the kids will hear." But then, his face had softened. "Fine, okay, you were a victim too. For you, a lot of circumstances made you an unintended victim, while I, my dear wife, was the absolute intended victim. Maybe you received instant karma for your actions against me, but I got instant pain and destruction. Save all the sympathy for family and those fucked up friends of yours.

"I'M THE DAMNED VICTIM HERE!" He'd screamed that last part in anguish.

It had been a struggle to regain my composure. Jim, hadn't ever talked to me like that, or ever looked so offended and hurt. I'm sure my face had shown the same emotions. "So where does that leave us?" I asked at a whisper.

"Hell if I know." Jim had spat.

"Jim, I'm going to therapy, to help me with my...ordeal. I'm wondering if you can go with me. It might open the door to...better communication between us. Maybe even help us find and agree on a marriage counselor?"

Jim's look now showed amazement. "Hold on Linda. I've already been to therapy. So have the kids." He didn't refer to them as 'ours'.

"Yeah, and I noticed you were fucking you..." I had caught myself before saying something I'd likely regret. I'd kept myself from pointing out he'd moved her into my home as well.

"Linda, obviously we have plenty to discuss and emotions are high right now. Why don't we take a few days to think about tonight and then get together again, in private?"

It had been all too much, and I'd started crying. In desperation, I added, "I don't want to wait for something. I've been waiting for two long years to get back to my family. I want to start putting our family back together. Please, Jim, give me a chance."

Jim had seemed to mellow even more after that. I'd have sworn that, I almost saw that big heart of his , right there in his eyes. He'd agreed about counseling. Even asked me to find three and text them to him. I'd had to put my number in his phone, which had caused even more crying.

The following few days moved quickly and I'd slept better, knowing things were moving forward. Jane and I had a standing time for coffee each morning. Jim had let me pick up the kids from school two days later. That had been difficult, listening to them talk about their family. A family that didn't include me. They'd also slipped and let it be known they'd gone with their father to Ellen's new apartment the evening before. That had hurt; Jim seemingly pretended to want to work on us, but that hadn't stopped him from going back to her.

I'd started going to a female grief therapist on day three. She'd given me the contact info for three couples' therapists. Jane had been spoon-feeding me little bits of info at first, until the fourth day.

"Linda, this is going to tough on you, probably the hardest thing, other than escaping that island. Believe me, I know you love Jim, and I can tell you, he still has feelings for you. Ellen, she...well she's the one who pushed Jim to resolve things with you. Jim loves her, Linda. I know that hurts. What you did to Jim hurt him terribly too. You're going to have to acknowledge the hurt both of you are going through, if there's any chance of getting him back."

I'd felt a little put off by her comments. "And, Jane, which is your preference, huh? Ellen or me, for Jim?"

I remembered Jane's pitiful scowl. I'd lashed out, at my one true friend as it turned out. Jane had always been there for me, and it seemed Jim to. She didn't deserve that. "I don't think there are any good choices for either of you. Nothing short of undoing the past can fix where you both are. For me, and everyone else that are close to you and Jim, I think we all just want to see things work out as well as possible. You have to know, we'll all be here for you Linda, just like we were for Jim these past two years." I'd noticed she didn't exactly answer my question.

That night, I had called Jim and we'd picked a therapist to schedule. Then Jim had said he wanted us to meet alone first, so he could tell me how he'd felt that night and the days and weeks after. We'd fought about that, because I could see too many ways for a conversation like that to go wrong.

"Jim, I understand what you're saying, but think about the night at my folks house. So much has happened I don't think we can afford to say things we can't take back. I want this to work, honey. We need to have a mediator in the room in case emotions are flying high."

The first counselor hadn't worked out. She'd been so one-sided in my favor, even I'd felt bad for Jim. Our second choice was far better. A few solo sessions followed our first meeting, and then we'd finally begun. I'd already been to my private therapist several times and explained about my time on the island, even writing it out at her insistence.

Dr. Boyle had started the session a bit differently. "Jim, We've all talked together and in private. I'd like to start today by reading something Linda has written in her private therapy, if you're okay with it. It's Linda's account of the last days of her ordeal. I think it could be monumental for our work, if you hear it from Linda's point of view, but I don't want to put her through talking it out again. May I?"

Jim had swallowed hard and nodded in the affirmative. I'd already read and re-read the journal pages to ensure they wouldn't set us back. I'd leaned back in the chair, braced myself and let Dr. Boyle say what I never wanted to say again.

"'Then one day, Daryl got careless.'" He'd begun. "'He didn't snap the lock shut on my ankle brace. Had he remembered, I doubt I would have gotten away. My feeble attempt at digging into the floor was not going well.'"

"'It was funny, I realized. I'd known about Stockholm Syndrome and had been careful to avoid it. This was something else. It was almost as if I didn't trust that he'd made a mistake. I sat on that floor, staring at the lock I'd just removed from the shackle, lost in thought. Was this a test? Maybe it was the excuse he created for himself to finally end me. I can remember thinking in that moment just how fragile a thing trust was. Slowly and quietly I removed the restraint from my leg and stood. I grabbed the skillet and the butter knife. Tip-toeing outside, I found him with his back to me in the shed. Probably, he'd been getting ready to fuel the four- wheeler.'"

"'This was my chance, and I was desperate to take it. He may have felt my presence before he heard it, but his turning to see me actually worked to my advantage. The skillet struck him on the side of the face right above his right temple, dazing him as he fell back. In my mind, having played this out so many times, I'd pictured his skull cracking, or his head splitting, with him falling down dead instantly. That wasn't what happened. His knees buckled as he screamed out. His hands instinctively went to hold his head, as his kneeling transitioned to lying down in the sand.'"

"'I was on him quickly. His last mistake was grabbing my left wrist with me on top of him, because my right hand drove the butter knife into his ear. I pushed as hard as I could, and didn't stop until I saw blood gushing out of the opposite ear. His adrenaline must have kicked in. He moved, reaching up to grab or push my face. Suddenly I felt an unbelievably intense pain in my groin area. I knew he'd kneed me hard. It almost caused me to pass out. Next I knew I was lying beside Daryl. His head turned, or maybe fell that way, and our eyes met as he exhaled his last breath.'"

"'I laid there for a long time. First, assessing my injuries, then trying to wrap myself around the fact that I'd succeeded in attaining my freedom. Daryl's dead eyes were still looking at me. He was no longer a threat. I'd killed another human, to eliminate that threat, although the person I'd just killed would have been the first to remind that I'd actually helped kill before. Everything and anything came gushing at me, and, overwhelmed I laid there in the fetal position, bawling and sobbing.'"

"'Figuring out how to put gasoline in an unfamiliar machine was unexpectedly harder than I could imagine. I'd never even used a lawnmower, I thought as I searched in vain for the gas tank. My total life experience on an all-terrain vehicle was one hour, on a rental in Pismo Beach California, many years back. For hours, in a panic, I searched the vehicle. I'm ashamed to say I examined several openings that would never be a fuel reservoir. Finally, it dawned on me that any opening would have to be accompanied by a tank of some kind. Seeing nothing new, I found a latch behind the seat, presumably to lift it, and hoped I might find some directions there. Imagine my surprise. The cap centered, under that seat, had the word GAS stamped into it. Karma may never leave me be, but right at that moment, it was having the time of its life.'"

"'I spilled a lot due to my uncontrollable shaking. I wondered if the hot sun would cause me to combust on the beach. So I went into the bungalow and grabbed a few towels, thoroughly wiping down the ATV.

"'What I did next will perplex me for the rest of my life. I went into my room and rummaged through all the clothes Daryl had gotten me, and some that I'd made myself by hand, like I used to do in my youth. There weren't many. The blue dress was long gone, or I may have worn it. I settled on a pair of khaki shorts that fit me pretty well, and a white T-shirt. The shirt was fairly wrinkled so I splashed it with some water, knowing the hot sunshine would help straighten it. In the bathroom, I used the dingy old mirror to assess my condition. A long shower washed the blood away; my sins, well, I could pretend. I did my hair the best I could with a shabby old brush. Daryl had never brought me any kind of make-up. I studied the woman in the mirror. I was not going to be the victim. It wouldn't be permitted although I knew deep down I was one.'"

"'I turned the key and it started right up. With only 2 bottles of water, I drove straight away, leaving that dead bastard face up in the sand, seagulls already circling.'"

Jim had cried during the reading, and I'd remembered being very touched by that. Somewhere, deep beneath all of his anguish and his loss, he still had some feelings for me. There's still a chance, I'd thought as we left the office.

The next few weeks had been a blur, merging back into my children's lives, going to therapy -almost daily, it had seemed - and getting reacquainted with my friends and family.

Jim

We were only 4 weeks until our proposed wedding date. I'd seen Ellen and Meagan 3 times per week, and we'd have dinner together. Afterwards, Meagan would go do something so her mom and I could have alone time to talk. She seemed overly clinical in her probing. It was never anything personal about me and Linda, as if she dreaded knowing. I understood.

One night I just couldn't take it anymore. "Ellen, we're just weeks away from the wedding. I need to find an exit strategy here. I want to be with you. The problem is, she's really trying; going all out to be honest. She seems to better grasp the situation she caused, and the aftermath with me."

Ellen smiled, but it wasn't her best smile. "Don't try to force it Jim. Weddings can be rescheduled, if it comes to that." I wasn't sure if she meant the date or if we were ever going to get married.

"Let's allow it work itself out. You owe it to yourself, and probably Linda too, even though you may not see it that way."

"But it isn't fair to you, babe," I'd whined. "I hate leaving you hanging like this. I don't want you to lose interest in me. I need you."

"Jim, I'm not going anywhere. Believe me, I know it isn't fair, and I suppose most days I just put on a brave face. I am worried, and my mind plays terrible tricks on me, but I'm in all the way, until you tell me you two are getting back together."

"Never gonna happen Ellen. That much I know." What a damned mess.

Then, out of left field, everything happened in a short ten hour period.

"I don't know Linda. This isn't some trick is it? Well it better not be. Will any of my ex-friends be there? I don't want to see them. Okay, let me think about it."

Linda had asked me out on a date. The problem was, I couldn't think of any legitimate reason not to. Finally, I conceded. That's how it felt: I'd caved.

She'd come out of her bedroom in a little blue dress. Not the same one she wore to the Morrison, but close. She saw my face before I could even react.

"Sorry. SORRY! Hang on a second, I'll go change." She came back with a more conservative red number on. Much better.

Dinner was nice. We'd engaged in mundane conversation about the kid's summer camp, her mom wanting to sell the house and downsize. Then about Dave and Dee's divorce. I hadn't even known about that. Seems Dave finally woke up to the fact that his wife was not of the same mind about certain things.

Afterwards, we went to a club on the other side of town that had an oldies rock band. Thank god the speakers weren't cranked up to nuclear meltdown. Between dinner and the club, Linda and I were on bottle number two of Cabernet, and feeling no pain. Linda looked beautiful, and some of the old feelings were coming back.

Then there he was. Standing right there.

"Hi Jim, good to see you again." He turned towards Linda and I thought she might pass out. "And you must be Linda. Marc LaValliere. The real Marc LaValliere." He probably said that due to the frightened look she bore.

"I'm glad to see you back home. I had some of my people looking for you, until the FBI came up empty." It was very awkward. Marc didn't know what to say, and Linda looked like she'd seen a ghost. She couldn't stop looking at him.

"Ah...I figure I owe you a dance." He held out his hand. He was talking to her, but looking at me. Linda looked down at his hand for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, coming out of her trance, "all my dances are only with Jim tonight."

"Understood. Well you two have a lovely evening, and I'm happy everything turned out alright." With that, he left us. Little did he know.

I grabbed Linda's hand and helped her to her feet. "Come on, we're here to dance right?" I smiled, and for the first time since the last leap year day, I saw Linda's best smile. Memories and warm feelings came flooding back. I whisked her away, before something else could happen.

Two fast dances, and then two slow ones. By the second, Linda had her head on my chest, and we both had our arms around each other's waists. Linda's hip brushed my erection, and we both realized it was there for the first time. She lifted her head to look into my eyes.

"Jim, maybe it's too soon, and maybe I'm being really forward, but can we get a room? I need you badly. It's been so long; too long. I won't get upset if you say no, but I will be disappointed."

I was stuck; confused. Mad at myself. I wanted Ellen, but I wanted this too. It wasn't fair. Linda read my dilemma.

"Please. If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, then that rapist will be the last person I was with. I can't take that. Please."

She was almost begging. I relented. I'm glad Ellen wasn't having me followed, because I gave in way too easily.

We walked out after paying the tab, walked across the lobby to the adjoining hotel and booked in. We got a few looks being devoid of luggage. It wasn't a cheap place.

Things intensified as soon as the door closed. We were kissing, madly. Linda's lips crushed against mine, her hands very actively roaming, relearning my body. I found myself doing the same. The urgency was mind numbing. Clothes started flying. We were on the bed.

The first time, it felt like...I don't know how to describe it. I guess if I could watch a video later we would have looked like two animals going at it. We simply fucked each other's brains out. Afterwards, I rolled off of her, sweating and trying to catch my breath. But the big guy stayed at the ready.

Linda noticed and she rolled over towards me, lightly stroking my chest. We kissed, more romantically this time and with less urgency. That went on for a long time. Finally, after exploring each other, she'd climbed on top. After controlling the pace for a while, she'd gotten on hands and knees with me behind. We changed positions twice more, in no hurry this time. It was loving, tender and prolonged. Finally we were spent.

The whole thing was...unremarkable. I laid there contemplating that. How was that possible? Well, as I thought, there were plenty of ways. Then I remembered a conversation with Ellen, back in the beginning, when I was just her patient. We'd been discussing Linda's possible return. She called it 'break up' sex. It was very common. Over 90% with couples together ten years or more, so it seemed.

With that revelation, my mind celebrated what Linda and I had had, and I mourned for all we'd lost. Tragic but true. I couldn't look at Linda. Not out of embarrassment. Somehow, I knew she was reliving the night and thinking exactly what I was.

We laid there, staring at the ceiling as our breathing went back to normal. I guess, at least for me, what happened next, gave me some hope. Not for Linda and I. The idea that symmetry in soul mates exists, not just in theory, gave me a strong sense of closure that hadn't been there before.

We'd both turned to look at each other at exactly the same moment. I knew precisely the expression I was wearing on my own face, because I felt like I was looking in a mirror I don't think there's just one word to describe it. It's simply a finality, and an acceptance. Sadness, calm, closure, love. A 'this is it' moment. No more bursting into tears.

She led this time. "Jim, I will always love you, but I think we both know..." her voice trailed off, but she recovered.

"I need to tell you something. I wish I could have been courageous enough to corner Robbie and say it to him all those years ago. Jim, with all my heart, I'm so sorry about all of this, and I'll always love you." A single tear escaped her right eye as she lay on her side looking at me. I instinctively brushed it away softly with my thumb.

"I know you are baby." That had been the first term of endearment I'd used with her since a few minutes before she stood up to dance on that fateful night. Her face quickly brightened.

"I'll always love you too, and I'm pretty sure you know it. I'm also happy we both tried together, to make this work. I'm sorry it hasn't turned out like you wanted." She looked away for a second collecting her thoughts.

"That's actually the least of it Jim. I am sorry about us not working, sorry it started, but that isn't all. Oh boy. This will probably be the last time you and I are like this, here in this moment. There's more I need to say.

"Sorrow only scratches the surface, my wonderful man. Oh, I'm sorry about plenty. Sorry I played that awful prank. However, surrounding my sorrow is regret. Regret that I never went back to Robbie, forced him to hear it wasn't his fault, just some self-centered high school chick with her head in the clouds.

"Regret that I let our friends undermine my respect for you. I did, and I do love and respect you, but I also let them eat away at me. At first, it was just little digs and ribbing. I would always stand up for you when that happened. But instead of making them knock it off, I finally started to give way and even play along. That's my problem; my need for attention from my peers. Finally, I allowed it to all go to shit. Agreeing to that hurtful prank was my low point. The fact I never learned from that first mistake will haunt me forever.

"You were my whole life, and I casually tossed you away. Then I paid my penitence with that bastard Daryl. The only good thing to come out of this, I suppose is that having been held hostage and fearing for my life every day, has made losing you just a bit easier, perhaps even more tolerable. Jim, I regret everything I've done to rip us apart, and I hope someday you can forgive me."

I wiped away more tears. "Can I say something now, that's on my mind? I don't think it will do you any good to dwell on Robbie and the prom. Take it from someone who's been in those exact same shoes, I get what he went through. Yet, I'm living proof that it can be survived. You didn't kill him Linda. Please, if you don't want to take your therapists advice, do it for me, and for the children. More than anything, I want to see the strong, confident, and lively Linda back among us. The past really is the past."

Linda slightly nodded. "We'll tell the kids together? Tomorrow when they get home?"

"Yes"

"Jim?" she was choking up again. "You should go to Ellen in the morning and give her the good news. Hopefully with the kids and all, you'll let me get to know her better. I'll make sure she takes good care of you. It's the least I can do." That didn't anger me, I knew how she meant it and that it was sincere.

"But for this one last time can I fall asleep in your arms?"

I pulled her close and said good night.

*********************************************************************************

Jim and Linda present day

"I think you're up, stud. They're almost finished with their tiramisu." Ellen gave me a little elbow to the rib cage, with a smile on her face. I see a little pride in those eyes, along with the humor. We are sitting in Antonio's Italian Place, a favorite of ours. As it turned out, one of Linda's too.

It had been almost 18 months since my last night with Linda. Ellen had almost passed out with the good news the next morning, if you're wondering. Four days later, along with her mom, Meagan, my parents, Emma, Tommy and Jane, we'd flown to Las Vegas and gotten married. The kids had enjoyed our honeymoon. We didn't care that we hadn't been alone. We'd had all we needed. I'm also sure that Ellen knew what had happened the night Linda and I were together. She never talked about it.

True to her word, Linda indeed became close with Ellen, I think for the kids' sake at first, but eventually, when she was on more solid ground, for companionship as well. Our custody arrangement was so open the family court officer had just thrown up her hands and said, "Go for it". Linda got an apartment in the neighborhood four blocks over from ours. It was a regular occurrence to have Sunday BBQ at the Carlson's home with all the family, Jane and Linda. Jane had a steady guy now, and I was glad to see he seemed the polar opposite of Phil. Life was good again...

...which brings me to tonight.

Standing up and straightening my jacket, "How do I look?" I asked Ellen with a sneer.

"Good enough to eat. So get going and don't take all night" she clowns right back. Damn, I love her.

I walk across the restaurant, and right up to the table. "Hello Linda." I say matter-of-factly.

"Oh, hello Jim." She looks at her date, who I had already heard about. I'd been sizing him up from my table before I'd even stood. Perry's about my build, although sitting there, I can't gauge his height. He has a little grey in his goatee and just forming in his sideburns, so I'm guessing he's around my age, but probably a few years older.

"Jim, this is Perry. Perry, my ex-husband Jim," she says casually.

I reach out my hand to shake, and he reciprocates. "I've heard a lot about you," he says genuinely.

We shake, both firmly, but without any of the macho BS. "I don't mean to interrupt but do you two mind if I sit for a moment?" Perry looks at Linda questioningly, and she nods.

"Actually, I need the ladies room, so if you two can behave, I'll be right back." Linda says, knowing what's coming next. Obviously, the whole set up is for Perry. Poor guy.

I sit down across from him, and waste no time. "I actually wanted to speak with you Perry, so that worked out." I let it sink in. He's no stooge.

"Perry, as you know, Linda and I have this...well, unique past. I'm sure she's told you." He nods.

"Well, I still love Linda." Now he looks gob smacked.

"Notice I didn't say 'in love'. Of course I love her; we were together for 12 years. Plus we've been through an extraordinary set of circumstances. Thing is, she really likes you." Pause for effect. "Or else we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He's still leery, but at least the shock is gone.

"See, with our situation, and what we call 'the incident', Linda, the kids, my wife and I, and our extended families went through hell and back. Out the front again, we are all very close."

Pause. Clear throat.

"I wanted to let you know that, so as you two grow in your relationship, you're not uncomfortable. I'm no threat to you, so just go with it. I'm actually 'in love' with my wonderful wife over there." I point to our table and my lovely Ellen. "If you're as good a guy as Linda claims, you'll be welcomed with open arms."

"Okay" he says, seeming to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"A few more things; one, don't believe everything you read about us. Those media morons aren't real journalists these days. It's all sensationalized. Two, please be gentle with her. She's strong, but she's been through a lot. Have patience. Three, if you intentionally hurt her, well, you'll deal with me."

Perry smiles. I instantly like him. "Understood, sir." He's not mocking me.

"Fourth, call me Jim."

Linda returns. "Are you boys getting along?" she asks. "Jim, I see your wife over there flashing us the look. Perhaps you should go back to your own table now." I stand, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Perry rises to shake once more, and I return to my stunning bride. "Well?" is all she says.

"Let's go home, baby, and talk about that dessert." I'm already reaching for her hand.

Life is what you make it. We all make mistakes. Hopefully, we learn from them.