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All That Blooms in Spring
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I should have been more on guard. I should have asked more questions, and at the very least been suspicious. When Jackie, my wife of seven years, told me about a quickly-thrown-together camping trip with our friends, something seemed off. Mostly, she seemed way too excited about doing something she really didn't care for all that much - not to mention it was February as this impromptu trip was being planned. In the California Sequoias, even at lower elevations, it would be cold. Instead, I, Peter Townsend, just went along with it. The thing was, I'd never had any cause to mistrust or be 'on guard.'
Jackie and I had met in college. Both of us had been focusing our studies in the software industry, and had often found ourselves sitting right next to each other in calculus. I'd been centered on a career as a software architect, and she, robotics. We'd barely spoken to each other in class, despite our proximity. It had been when I'd placed an ad on the student math blog for a tutor that things had gotten interesting.
I'd set a date and time to meet in the cafeteria, and who had walked up but Jackie? We'd laughed and giggled and had a few coffees, and I'd explained some of the problems I'd been encountering. The equations hadn't been my hang-up, but rather the analysis. In reality, Jackie would end up using the complex calculation more in her field, but I'd still wanted to understand what was being taught.
Jackie and I had quickly become friends. As a couple of nerds, we'd also started going out together as friends. I wouldn't have said we fell in love that first year. The following term, I'd been back to school for only three weeks when both of my parents had died in a car crash. As an only child, I'd taken it about as badly as a person could. Jackie had been there with me, and had helped me get through my depression. In fact, she'd spent so much time with me that her studies had started to suffer. In the months leading up to Christmas, that year, I'd fallen hard for that wonderful woman. She'd been a great listener, and had continued to be our entire time together, but in those early days it had been the thing I'd needed most - along with her patience.
The hopeless days, though, had been the ones that brought us together physically. Jackie had held me sometimes, and we'd gently rocked or swayed for minutes or sometimes as long as an hour. I'd begun to feel not just safe, but familiar in her arms. One night, around the beginning of December, as we'd begun to pull away from each other, we'd looked into each other's eyes, and that had led to the kiss, as we'd come to call it. Two days after, we'd spent the night making passionate, desperate love.
The rest of our time in college, had probably been similar to that of millions of others who'd had a whirlwind romance that had led to engagement that had led to marriage. Jackie had always made me feel safe, loved, and as if I was the most important person in her world. I'd done everything I could think of to make her feel the same way about and around me.
The following year had been our final year at school. My new roommate, Todd, had been a decent guy and easy to get along with. His major had been analytical data engineer, so we hadn't had any classes in common. He'd taken to Jackie too, but in a good way. I'd never seen anything untoward or cringe worthy between them. Todd had, though, interjected himself not once, but twice when some guys had been bothering Jackie - right place, right time. That had made Jackie his friend as well. After graduation, Todd had moved to San Diego for a strong job offering.
Jackie and I had then moved to San Jose, and had begun our careers in Silicon Valley, both at different, well-known companies. We'd kept in touch with Todd via email, and less than a year later, we'd been happy to hear that he'd found a woman named Alise that he'd fallen in love with. I couldn't get the time off for the wedding, and Jackie had been quite bummed about it.
Two years later, Jackie and I had been doing very well in our careers, and, thanks to a careful lifestyle, we'd saved enough to start seriously hunting for a real home. We'd found one on the southern end of Mountain View with plenty of room to begin starting a family. We'd made good friends with Jeff and Amber, who lived five houses down our street. In those first six months, we'd gotten close enough to spend at least some part of most weekends together. Jackie had really taken to Amber, and often Jeff and I had just sat with our microbrews and studied the pair, laughing and carrying on.
Eight months after we'd moved, we'd heard from Todd. He'd told us that he and Alise were moving to the bay area. Jackie had been beside herself. We'd hooked them up with our realtor, and she had found them a great home just ten minutes away in Cupertino. Our new friends and old friends had quickly coalesced around us into a genuine sextuple. Either Saturday or Sunday each week, we'd be at one house or the other, barbecuing and having a blast. Other times, we'd enjoy shared interests. Hiking, boating, and even bowling - which isn't very popular on the west coast - had all been on the activities menu.
In general, life hadn't been good; it had been great! Todd, Jeff and I had gotten along splendidly. The girls, even with the dreaded odd number three, had been surprisingly awesome together, with very little drama. If there'd been any sort of chink in the friendship armor, I'd have to say it had been the familiarity that blossomed between everyone in our group. I'm probably in a small percentage of men, but I'd always gotten uncomfortable whenever Amber or Alise flirted with me.
Jeff had a thirty-five foot catamaran that he'd purchased with his father. When his 'pops' had started using it less, we'd picked up the slack. I used to call it the 'yacht' because it had been - and still was - the biggest boat I'd ever been on. All of the ladies had worn very revealing swimwear whenever we'd been out the water for a day. A few times all three had popped their tops before diving off the deck when we'd been anchored in a semi-private alcove. All of those things I'd disregarded or at least swept aside, in part because everything else in my life had been so perfect. The guys had never gotten 'handsy' with anyone except their own respective wives. Of course, they'd looked and made lewd comments. I'd allowed myself to get in on that action too, over time. The wives had always taken them in stride, and had even reciprocated, leaving us all laughing our guts out. Still, I'd have to say that I was the most conservative person in our group. I'd had all I'd ever wanted in Jackie.
We'd been camping three times prior to that strange early-March trip. Once, we'd been off Highway 1, just south of the Monterey Peninsula. The other two times, we'd gone to the base of the sequoias. Both Jackie and Amber had breathing issues at higher altitudes, but we'd still traveled on one of the camping days up to see the big trees. We'd become quite organized. Jackie and I always brought the cooking supplies and a four-burner propane stove. Jeff and Amber had the extra backpacks for hiking. Todd and Alise owned three double air mattresses and extra tarps. Like most things we'd done together, our times in the wilderness had been fun and easy.
Two days after I'd been told about our impromptu trip, I came home from work to find Alise and Todd, along with Amber, sitting in our living room, drinking wine and chatting. That was nothing new; in fact, it was absolutely normal. The fact that they all went silent upon my entrance was not normal.
The looks on their faces also told a story. Whatever they'd been discussing, they didn't want me knowing. Not only did I pick up on their discomfort immediately, I also called them out.
"Hey, guys," I said sheepishly. "You want me to take off and come back in?"
My wife's face turned red, and no matter how she tried to hide it, the expression she wore told me she wished for that very thing or at least that I hadn't shown up half an hour early. In my head, I quickly did the math on my birthday and our anniversary. No, that wasn't it. One had just occurred and the other was months away.
"No. NO!" Jackie replied after a pause. "Of course not. We were just talking about our camping trip." Jackie wears a lie on her mug like an orange construction vest, so that much, at least, I knew was the truth.
"What's up?" I answered lightheartedly. "You guys planning to get rid of me and dump my body for the mountain lions?" I was getting nervous. The pause that followed made me wonder if I'd guessed right on the first attempt.
Todd broke the awkward silence. "It's all good brah," he said with a smile. "You just surprised us is all. We're trying to decide if we should camp in the same place as last time, or try this new spot three miles further up the mountain. Here, take a look at the brochure I printed off."
I took the pamphlet from him, but I only sort of scanned it. Something was off. I studied each face, and decided that Amber looked the guiltiest. I just had no idea about what, and why she'd feel the worst. I handed the brochure back to Todd and nonchalantly replied, "I don't care which one." Then I left the room to go change.
When I returned a few minutes later, our company had gone - fled, was more like it. I looked at Jackie, with a raised eyebrow. For the first time in our relationship, I found myself mistrusting her, and the feeling wrenched my gut.
"What was that all about?" I asked in a more accusatory tone than I'd intended.
She blushed. "Nothing, it..." Jackie stopped mid-sentence, seeing the misery in my gaze. "Okay! Okay, we were discussing accommodations, really. But without spoiling anything, there might be a bit of a surprise involved. I don't want to ruin it. Please."
I didn't see any orange vests when she made that statement, so I thought for a moment and then decided to let it go. I trusted Jackie. I trusted our friends too. I hated thinking it at all, but I also trusted my ability to know when Jackie was lying.
The day of departure came, and I was up early, showered, dressed and had coffee brewing before Jackie got up. Forty minutes later, she opened the garage door and looked out at me. When I turned towards her, she wore a look of perplexity.
"What are you doing, honey?" she asked sweetly.
"Just getting our cooking supplies down and packed," I replied in kind.
Her perplexed look disappeared, and was replaced by shock. I just studied her as she stood in the door frame, dumbfounded.
"Oh my gosh," she exclaimed. "You didn't even look at that brochure Todd handed you, did you?"
I simply shrugged and told her no. Jackie came out and stood next to me, touching my arm. "Honey, we don't need the equipment. Come inside and have a cup of coffee with me."
Now I was dumbfounded, so I went with her. Sitting at the kitchen table, Jackie returned with the pamphlet.
"This is where we're going," she told me. "I'm sorry; I thought you were paying attention."
I had that bad feeling again. I looked over the three-fold color brochure. I just stared at my wife, a look that should have told her that I was yearning - begging, even - for her to come clean. It took her a while.
"It was part of a surprise, okay?" Jackie snarled, seemingly upset with me now. "Todd got a bonus and he came across this place online. When he realized it was only three miles up the road from where we usually camp, he sort of became obsessed with staying there. He paid the deposit, and then he ended up paying for two of the three nights. Jeff doesn't know about it either. Obviously, Amber does. Jeff won't know until they get to our old spot, then she'll tell him. I know how much you hate surprises, or I would be doing the same. It was that or let you get mad about packing the cooking stuff for nothing. Plus, you might've seen my lingerie or bikini."
Jackie looked sincere, but there was still something that made me leery. I'd never mistrusted her before. I could see Todd and Alise getting the women involved with the surprise. I, and certainly Jeff, wouldn't be cool with Todd footing most of the bill, bonus or no bonus. Then it suddenly hit me.
"What's the rest of the surprise?" I coolly asked.
She stammered a bit. She wasn't very good at the cloak-and-dagger stuff. "Noth...nothing," came out of her mouth, first, followed by, "Alright," in an exaggerated sigh. "There are a few others. I've given you all the big ones already, including that the place has a huge hot tub. That wouldn't have been a surprise, though, if you'd at least looked at the brochure the other day, when we handed it to you. Jeez, Pete, stop being so suspicious all the time. Can't you believe that a surprise from your wife and your friends is actually a good thing? Haven't we earned that?"
Jackie came over and sat on my knee, and then wrapped me in a big hug. I hugged her back. That was our way. She smiled a wry, sexy smile and then kissed me. I returned the kiss. I gave in - a lot - so sue me. She'd saved me. I loved her. She'd never hurt me, not even once. Satisfied, she took my hand and we went upstairs to finish packing. In a perfect world, we'd have gotten a quick one in, but we were already running behind.
The drive east was relaxing once we got out of the city. The best part about nature for me was the tranquility. I knew what I'd signed on for when I'd chosen my field of study and career. That didn't make it any easier dealing with the hustle and bustle of the greater bay area. If I could have worked remotely from a cabin just like the one we were headed to, it would have been a dream come true. I'd always kept those thoughts to myself, as I didn't want my wife to think I was unhappy where we lived.
Jackie and I did what we always do on a long drive: sing at the top of our lungs. We had several playlists that we'd built together. We'd turn that volume up to three-quarters and blurt it out together. As we got closer, we could still see some snow at the lower elevations. The cabin suddenly seemed like a decent idea; I'd almost forgotten that the timing was wonky.
The one cabin turned out to be three. That was also on the front of the brochure. One seemed regular-sized, if there was such a thing. The other two were smaller - like those tiny homes. Both of the other couples were already there. Jackie and I were greeted warmly, and all thoughts of a sinister conspiracy were gone from my mind.
Since it was the beginning of March, daylight wasn't on our side. We decided as a group to just get set up, eat a nice dinner together and relax around the fire. Jackie and I took one of the small cabins while Amber and Jeff took the other. Since Todd had paid, of course, he and his wife Alise took the lodge. Really it was a two bedroom cottage, with a fairly large kitchen and living area, but compared to the others, it seemed lodge-like. After settling in, Jackie and I went back to the cottage and we all got busy fixing a dinner of chicken Alfredo with fettuccini noodles.
After dinner and clean-up, we retired to the living room. We all cracked up seeing the ancient laser disk player and the gigantic movie disks that looked like an old thirty-three music album. The selection was even funnier. We settled on the original Indiana Jones, and then Indecent Proposal. Jeff had brought a bag of weed, and rolled one joint, saying we should save the rest for the next evening, Saturday. That was fine by me. Pot always gave me anxiety and made me especially paranoid. Jackie knew that, and because she didn't want to start a fight, she was particularly sensitive to a deal we'd made back in college. She'd give me a look before partaking, and if I was alright with it just then, I'd give a nod.
Jeff was seated to her immediate right, so when he handed it over to her, Jackie gave me the look, and in return I gave a slight imperceptible nod. Only I guess I wasn't so subtle.
"For Christ's sake," Todd said as he chuckled. "You don't need his permission every time. If he doesn't want any, that's up to him. We're all adults." He was looking directly at my wife.
Jackie looked aghast. She looked back at me with what looked like fear in her eyes. That threw me. She recovered quickly though, smiling a sweet, but somewhat forced smile at me.
"It's not like that, Todd," she responded. "We have a deal. It's a thing between husband and wife." Her tone with him was condescending but with a hint of... I don't even know. Like an inside joke. Alise jabbed her husband in the ribs and gave him the evil eye. Nothing was happening, that didn't happen between the six of us all the time, it just felt different. Something was out of place. It certainly wasn't the weed. I hadn't and wasn't going to take a hit.
Only Jeff, Alise, Amber and my wife smoked the joint. It was no big deal, but coupled with the alcohol, Amber and Alise were pretty toasted. All of us men had consumed a fair amount too, and we started joking and laughing. Todd and Jeff made a big deal about that perfect little smile on Demi Moore, and the ladies teased us mercilessly. Amber had the smallest mouth, it was determined, so she got up in front of the group trying to emulate Demi's half-pout-half-smile. We all egged her on. The girls paid us back of course, making us stand at attention in the middle of the room and give our best Robert Redford stance. Todd won hands down, as he was the only one in our young group who had a touch of grey starting in his sideburns.
He was also the tallest and best-built between us. Our wives were all within an inch of the same height, and all about the same weight. That's where the similarities ended though. Alise was a true California blonde, and the most full-bodied of the three - if you can call one-hundred fifteen pounds full-bodied in any way, shape or form. She certainly had the largest chest. Amber was a strawberry blonde with the deepest, most delectable blue eyes I've ever seen on a woman. Of the three, Amber was probably the one with the most model-worthy facial features. Jackie was a brunette. Actually, her hair was almost black. I guess that had to do with her one-fifth Cherokee heritage. Her olive complexion made her stunning and she always stood out when the six of us were in public.
After more laughter and banter, Todd's wife, Alise, went and sat seductively in Jeff's lap, wiggling her bottom against his crotch. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and demurely said, "Don't worry, Jeff. Nothing's going to happen that you don't want to happen," mocking the famous line from the movie.
There was more laughter, like every other time we all got slightly ripped and inhibitions were way down. Then I noticed Jackie, who, instead of cracking up, looked worried. To be honest, with all the booze I'd had, I was having trouble reading her. The expression certainly didn't fit the circumstance, though. I had no idea what to make of it, but I left it alone with everyone else having fun. That was one of my issues, and I knew it. The rest of the group got along well with me, but it was an unspoken thing that they viewed me as the conservative one. They weren't even wrong.
Jackie and I had an explosive night in bed. She was very vocal too, which was a little different from when she usually drank. I wasn't going to complain about it. Despite my buzz, Jackie helped me get up for a third round, and we fell asleep in each other's arms, sleeping until nine in the morning.
The next morning was like many others with this group. Women did Sunday breakfast, while the men were responsible for making Saturday morning's meal. We all went for a long hike to a waterfall we were familiar with. It was a great way to clear the fog from the previous night's overindulgence. After dinner, I helped Amber and Alise clean up. Jackie told me to go get ready for the hot tub.
It was a damn good thing I didn't follow my wife's advice, because as we were preparing to get suited up, Todd announced we were running critically low on mixers, and that if anyone wanted to smoke any more bud, we'd need some papers. I knew we'd only rolled that one joint, and I said so. Apparently, Jeff had dropped them in the jacuzzi.
No one was in any shape to drive - except me, of course. Jeff mentioned the ATVs in the pull barn behind the cabins. Even though I was nowhere near as wasted as the rest, I wasn't looking forward to taking a four-by down a narrow road with a steep drop off on one side. Amber came up, interjecting herself into the conversation, saying there was an off-road path specifically for the ATVs. She then made a big deal about wanting to tag along. She didn't look like she was in any shape to ride, so I told her she was going passenger with me.
Jackie and Alise were talking out on the deck and had no idea about the discussion we'd just had in the house. She saw me walk out with Amber and head towards the back area. My wife finally asked, in her drug-and-alcohol-induced stupor, where we were going. When I told her, she just half-smiled and said, "'Kay. Have fun honey."
The shed was locked, but Amber seemed to have a key. Inside, we found two three-wheelers and one side-by-side. Without any direction from me, Amber grabbed a helmet off the handlebars of one of the three-wheelers and hopped into the passenger seat of the gator. There was already a helmet on the driver's seat. My mind had gone from, something isn't quite right, to something is very wrong.
On the ride down, we had the wind in our face, and I was trying to focus on the path since I didn't know it. The sun setting within minutes of our departure didn't help either. We'd need to get in and out of the store quickly with dusk upon us. I told Amber as much as we pulled up, and we both ran around the store like crazy people.
After loading the back with booze, mixers, and ice, we began the drive back. Thirty seconds down the road, I flipped a u-ey, having forgotten the rolling papers. The trip back was slower and uphill, but at least the wind was at our back.
"How'd you get those keys?" I asked, reluctantly and nonchalantly all at once, not wanting to make it seem like the big deal it was. The look on her face made me immediately regret my question.
"Well," she replied after several moments of silence, "a friend of my dad's actually owns the property we're at. I've been here before." Amber was still showing signs of being inebriated, despite not having had any booze since we'd started our foray. She was giggling at nothing funny at all. The Mary J and booze were acting like a bit of truth serum as well, clearly. Everyone had been adamant that Todd had rented the place; apparently, it had been very important for me to think that, and I had no idea why. I kept probing; the more I asked, the more she answered, and the worse I felt.
"Yeah, I told Todd and Alise about it a few months back when we were..." giggle, giggle. "He said it would be perfect, and wanted to know if I'd talk to Daddy to see if we might use... err, rent it."
As quickly as I'd tried to move us along, it still took forty-five minutes getting door-to-door. We parked the ATV and carried armloads of supplies through the back door of the larger cabin. No one was inside, but I heard laughter out front. I figured they'd probably built a fire.
Amber was about as wasted as I'd ever seen her. She was also almost inappropriately flirty. That happened when she combined alcohol with marijuana, but she was just acting weird, almost under foot. I turned from putting the mixers in the fridge and ran right into her.
"Hey, Pete," she tried to purr, but actually slurred. "Do you like my outfit?"
Amber had removed her hoodie and was sporting only a wife-beater, minus a bra that I was sure had been there when we left for the store. I mumbled that I did while sidestepping her. What I'd really hoped for was to extract a bit of intel from her to assuage my fear and concerns. Unfortunately, it seemed that the time for getting real answers out of her had passed. It turned out, however, that I didn't need her for that anymore. I made another drink and headed out the front door.
There wasn't a fire; rather, the other four were sitting in the large hot tub. Alise looked like she was sitting near Jeff; as my eyes adjusted to the darkness though, I saw that they were almost on top of one another. What I saw next took my breath away. Just across from the other couple, Todd sat, eyes locked to mine, both arms leaning back on the tub's deck. Cuddled up into his right shoulder was Jackie.
That was my first problem. I felt the second, like a knife in the back, moments later when I realized that her bikini top, while on, was around her rib cage, and one of her B cup breasts was exposed below the water line.
I had no idea how long I just stood there and stared at the two of them. What seemed like a very long time was probably only ten or fifteen seconds.
"What the fuck is this?" flowed out of my mouth like vomit, "What are you doing?" I stared daggers at my wife. It seemed appropriate.
She was up and moving out of the water before I could even finish my sentence. She wrapped a large beach towel around her petite form and moved towards me. As I was about to start in on her, Jackie walked past me.
"Let's go over here and talk, Pete," she said in passing. I grabbed her arm at the elbow, and she forcefully pulled away. I followed her down the gravel drive just to the other side of where our cars were parked.
"Well, that was weird," Jackie said, stammering and looking around the ground, before meeting my eyes. That certainly wasn't the best way to start, and the understatement of the year. My ears felt hot.
"Yeah, you think?" I replied sarcastically. "What were you doing sitting on his lap like that?"
"I wasn't on his lap!" she quickly and unequivocally told me.
"Pretty close, Jackie." I was trying to think; trying to understand what was going on, and square it with what I'd just seen. "Why were you so close, and why were your tits out?"
Jackie seemed to be pondering her next words very carefully. She was clearly taking her time and trying to control her breathing.
"Obviously drinking and um, smoking too much," my wife calmly said, and then took another deep breath. She was clearly taking the tack of avoiding my question - obviously not so drunk that she'd forgotten whatever strategy she'd planned. I raised my eyebrow, letting her know that her answer wasn't sufficient.
"Oh, right," she responded with what looked like a little half-smirk. "And you've never seen the other women's tits before?" She was starting to piss me off with the bullshit and sass as much as with what I'd seen her doing.
"Yeah," I replied mockingly, "while diving off the boat. I never once cuddled up to one of them, fondling one of..."
"He wasn't fondling me!" Jackie yelled. She seemed ready to keep it up, but stopped abruptly. Then she went for broke.
"It turns out," she said measuredly, "our friends have been, well, messing around with each other for... a while. And, my sweet man, they've invited us to join. Before you say anything, let's just give this a chance tonight and see where it goes."
"You've got to be kidding me, Jackie," I responded, working hard to keep my voice down and emotions in check. "When was someone going to tell me?"
The implications of what I just inadvertently said played havoc with my logical mind. I tried to process that. The more I thought, the angrier I became - especially with her lack of response.
"So," I growled, "this weekend is - was, some kind of set up - is that it? Oh, SURPRISE, by the way. You didn't think I'd go along, so the idea was to just force it on me? That's disgusting. Jackie, go get dressed. We're packing and leaving."
"No!" Jackie suddenly seemed to find her voice. "I want to do this, Peter! Just listen to me for a minute - let me explain." She at least had the good sense to wait for my affirmation to continue.
"Pete," she continued, in a softer, more pleading voice, "I found out about them, four, maybe five weeks ago. Alise mentioned something by accident, and once I put two and two together, I kept hammering her until she told me. They've been trying to figure out a way of involving us."
"Because Todd, and probably Jeff also, want to screw my wife?" I asked, interrupting her. "Of course, what would I expect from a couple of friends? 'Oh say, Pete, we've recently become swingers and we'd really appreciate it if we could fuck Jackie. We're getting a bit bored with just the four of us.'"
"It isn't like that at all, Pete," she said, taking my hands. "They know you. They know how you think, and they knew you'd overthink things, and then say 'no.' We were talking about it the day you came home a bit early and we told you about the trip."
Jackie paused as she squeezed my hands tighter. "Doing this here - tonight - it isn't going to affect us. It certainly isn't going to change how I feel about you in any way." I just..."
"It already has, Jackie," I interrupted again. "I come back from a store run and find you like that with Todd. Do you think so little of me not to care if I found the two of you like that, or are you just too high and horny to give a shit?"
"Alright, I know. I know." She was more into pleading and begging now. "That was stupid. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset you. The truth is, I'm pretty wasted and I'm also... well, horny, as you said. But I want you to have fun here, not get upset or hurt. Can we just pretend you didn't see that?
"Amber really wants to be with you, Pete," Jackie said, switching gears. "She's told me so. I half expected the two of you not to return right away. She told me seducing you would make her so hot. We figured she'd succeed when you left with her. That's why we got in the hot tub and kinda got started. I'm okay with it. I want you to have her."
"So you can have Todd," I said flatly. "And I suppose Jeff later on. Then what? Tomorrow I get to fuck Alise too? That's the plan? A big weekend orgy, and afterwards? We go back to being just three couples hanging out? You must have figured out there's no putting that genie back in the bottle."
Jackie looked like a person with a hangover rather than a good buzz. She'd look me in the eye, and then break my gaze. Then she'd repeat the process. I was waiting for her reply, but I couldn't take the silence.
"Jackie, I get it, maybe a little," I said sternly. "I don't want this, though. You should have asked me up front, so I could tell you 'no' and everyone could've decided if they wanted to leave us out of this weekend."
The change in expression on my wife's face told me she was going to make one last-ditch effort to change my mind.
"Please, Pete," she started. "Don't say that. Don't be so intractable, and for just this once, stop overthinking things. You're going to have fun tonight. I've seen how you look at Amber when you think no one's paying attention. Alise too, for that matter. Let yourself go. Have some fun, and curb that urge to be so uncomfortable trying new things. Tomorrow morning, I promise, we'll both wake up after a new and exciting experience, and we'll both love each other just the same as we do now."
I huffed and spat, "Fuck that. You're delusional."
"No I'm not," she spat right back. "We've been together for what, six years? Remember me? I've always been there for you - always loved you. I've always taken good care of you, too. Remember when your parents died? Don't you dare say I'm delusional. I'm anything but. I love you with all my heart. This is just the two of us branching out - trying something new. I don't have any feelings for Todd - or Jeff either - other than wanting to explore a bit and have some fun."
"And suppose he's so much better than me," I said, standing firm. "That I don't do it for you anymore, Jackie. Or maybe Amber's that much better, or any of a dozen other things that could permanently screw us up. It's not about me being a 'stick in the mud.' I'm the one thinking about ramifications."
"But you're already doing it, though," she half-screamed. "Damn it! You're already going to 'what if.' I'm stopping you right there. Listen to me - I'm doing this - okay? I'm already more than half in the bag, and probably won't remember much of it tomorrow. Amber's probably waiting for you in our cabin. Go be with her. If you want, the two of you can just sit and talk about it all night, but somehow I doubt that will happen. You're going to have a great time - just trust me, will you please?"
"Jackie, this isn't going to work out like you - or they - think," I spat bitterly. "I can't stop you, but don't come back later and tell me you thought I was joking about my warnings. Don't try to change or convolute this conversation. I'm telling you emphatically, plain and simple, NO! Not just no, but hell no."
"And I'm telling you..." she caught herself. In fairness, she was in no condition to have been having the conversation, but the sad truth was that she'd brought it upon herself. She'd been egged on by our stupid friends and, I already suspected, spurred by an uncontrollable lust for Todd. He was another matter altogether. I knew him. He was a pretty decent guy, but I knew if he could get in Jackie's panties, and make it somehow legit in the process, he'd consider it a win-win. I'd seen how he'd always looked at my wife - like she was prey.
Jackie was studying me intently. I saw her change in an instant to a woman satisfied that she'd played her final card well. Without an immediate reaction from me, she leaned in, kissed me hard on the lips and turned, giving me her back and walking towards the cabins.
Despair, anger and my utter confusion kept my feet planted firmly. I watched her ass jiggling away like taillights in the fog. Finally, wiping a singular tear, I headed back towards the lights of the cabins.
Gathering my strength to give it one final go, I stood and looked into the main cabin. There was no movement in the living area, only Alise and Jeff fixing themselves drinks in the kitchen. Suddenly I heard a voice to my right.
"Hey sexy," Amber slurred, leaning against the door frame to my cabin. "Come 'er." She then opened her robe and I was treated to a delightful site. Amber's shapely body and bountiful breasts were even more than I could have ever imagined. In the dim backlight, her skin seemed flawless. I looked back to the main cabin once and made my decision in a fit of anger and lust.
Walking up to Amber, I simply reached out and held her firm tits - one in each hand. They were magnificent and as soft as a baby's ass - well, as soft as I could imagine a baby's ass, anyway. She put both arms around my neck and leaned in for a deep sensuous kiss. Her tongue tasted like a pail full of various liquor, and an ashtray. I pulled away instinctively. It didn't even register with her what I was thinking.
"Come back, Petee," she stammered. "Kissme."
I walked into the small living room and just plunked down on the sofa, exhausted. I was too drained to even cry. Amber came and stood in front of me, too wasted to notice my demeanor. She pushed the robe off her shoulders and it landed on the floor at her feet. What was probably intended to be a sexy, seductive look, was just silly. Amber began swaying back and forth. It was then I realized there was music softly playing.
She did a little turn with all the elegance of a giraffe, showing me her tanned, round ass. She must have spent some time at the spa. I'd had enough already. I grabbed her arm and spun her around, telling her angrily to stop it.
Her face slowly registered what mine shown. She took in a deep breath, coming to some realization. Then she turned green and ran to the bathroom. I didn't understand what was happening until I heard her unloading her stomach in the toilet. I just didn't care about her in that moment. She was one-fifth a part of what had poisoned my wife against me. Nothing would ever be the same again. I wasn't going to get laid that night, and I knew deep down right then that I didn't want anything from Amber or Alise anyway. They were part of a conspiracy to get 'ole Pete' in line for their own selfish desires.
I finally stood and went to check on Amber. She was hugging the porcelain, pretty much out for the count. I left her there and grabbed my backpack. Jackie and I always had our packs ready for a hike. I double-checked the contents and pulled out a flashlight. Walking out onto the front porch, I inadvertently kicked an ash can, and two heads popped up from the hot tub. It was Jeff and Alise.
Both saw me and quickly got out, trying to head me off as I crossed the gravel heading for a trail on the other side of the cabin they were using.
"Pete, what are you doing?" Alise asked with a confused look. She saw the flashlight as she grabbed my forearm. "You can't go out on the trail. It's pitch black. Where's Amber?"
"Just leave me be, Alise," I yelled. "Haven't you fuckers done enough already?"
Jeff was beside us both then. He looked just as confused as she did. "Where are you going, buddy?" he asked in a shaky voice.
"None of your damned business," was my angry retort. "You - all of you - just totally destroyed my marriage, so I'm sure what I'm doing or where I'm going doesn't mean shit to you, friend. You should go see to your whore."
At that, Alise dropped her grip on my arm. Jeff turned and looked at my cabin. He turned back to me, scared, and then took off like a bat out of hell towards the cottage, with Alise close behind. I was glad they took the hint. I really had been about to lose it.
I headed off towards the trail, turning the light on. Walking in the brisk evening cooled my anger to some degree. That left me with a profound sadness. As weird as the day had been, I could never have foreseen the complete undoing of my life and my marriage like that. I wondered what Jackie could have been thinking, both in setting this up, or how she'd just laid it on me. In all our six years, she'd never acted so selfishly. And, selfish is what it was. I wondered if she was even thinking at all. I really didn't think my friends - or, former friends now - could have that much influence on my wife. My brain started spinning in a thousand different directions, as I walked.
Where will I live now? I thought to myself. It won't be with her, that's for sure. Goddamn her! The more I walked and the more I thought, the less I understood. Does she just want a divorce? But then why the big production? Did she think all of this was necessary to make sure I didn't try to save the marriage? Is she really just this selfish, and I never noticed?
As much as I wanted there to be a grander design, that's what I kept coming back to: pure selfishness. It broke my heart when I started thinking about my wife as just another woman - one who'd paint me as the villain and herself as the victim, complete with a circle of toxic friends who'd support and console her while she cried or ranted. I knew it'd already be bad in the morning, and that it would only get worse in the coming weeks when I refused to forgive her. I was 'intractable,' after all.
As I wandered along the path, I also wondered how long I might be alone. I'd always hated being alone. I'd never felt as alone as when my parents had died suddenly. They'd been all I had until Jackie. My only other living relative, besides Jackie, was some distant cousin near Modesto. Being completely alone, I thought, would be the hardest part. Still, I had a few co-workers that I got on with alright. I supposed I could eventually make new friends, and through them, hopefully, some new acquaintances.
My heart was heavy out there in the crisp night air of the forest. I'd given absolutely everything to my relationship with my wife. I'd put all my eggs in one basket, and had been completely and utterly devoted. Getting along without her was inconceivable to me just then.
The trail had narrowed and become littered with large rocks, some almost the size of bowling balls. In some places, it was barely two-and-a-half feet wide. Shining the light to my right, I saw a steep incline, and over to my left a steep down slope, ending in what I guessed was a ravine. My light couldn't find the bottom. I had no idea how long Id' been walking with only my thoughts as company. It was clear I'd probably taken the wrong turn at a 'Y.'
It was time to go back. Hopefully, Jeff and Alise had sorted out the drunken Amber and put her to bed in her own cabin. I'd try to get a few hours' sleep, and get up and out early. With all the sex going on, I was sure Jackie and the others would sleep in a bit. Jackie still had friends to give her a ride home - though I wasn't sure she'd even bother coming home at all. Once I was home, I planned to pack my stuff and find a one-bedroom apartment. I wondered how Jackie would feel finding me gone.
As I turned, careful with my footing, I heard a rustling in the brush just up the slope. It was very close. I tripped on something and barely caught my balance, only to hear more shuffling. Leaning to my right, the ground gave way and I spilled over the edge. I lost the flashlight in my vain attempt to grab something. Finally, about four or five feet into the slide, I grabbed a limb. That stopped my downward momentum, but I was hanging by a thread. I saw death as a real possibility right then.
I tried to improve my hold on the limb, but I could feel it giving way from my weight. Small rocks and debris fell as I tried to get some sort of foothold. I never heard any of it hit the bottom. Finally, resolved the limb wouldn't hold, I used my feet to propel me out away from the cliff face. I didn't remember the actual fall. At some point, I opened my eyes, only then realizing that one of them wouldn't. I could feel something crawling on my face, but for reasons unknown, I couldn't use my arms or hands to get it off. I felt immense pain, and then I was asleep.
I remember dreaming - a lot. The dreams seemed real, but as time went on I understood they were only dreams. There wasn't any continuity. I'd be somewhere with Jackie, or with my parents, and suddenly, I'd be elsewhere. No one can be in their office at work one minute, and the next, hiking in the rugged California mountains. As the truth became clearer and clearer, I started yearning for some moment in time that was actually happening - something real to grasp onto.
I was in a hospital bed, only it didn't look or feel like a hospital bed. There was an IV and lots of bandages. I could move my left arm, but the right, with the IV, was immobile, as were both of my legs. As I tried to focus on my lower extremities, I took in the scenery past my feet.
I was in a cottage of some sort. The walls and ceiling were all log. The bed I was in was also of a log décor. I wasn't in a hospital. Damn, another dream, I thought. I reached up to my head with my free hand, and discovered the entire thing bandaged above my eyes. There was a scuttling about in the distance. I tried to speak. The function was there, but the words were only whispers.
I closed my eyes, trying to make the dream change. After five times of reopening them, I began to wonder. If I couldn't talk, maybe I could scream, or make some sort of noise. Finally, I did. Then I heard the footsteps approaching, I closed my eyes again, exhausted. When the footsteps stopped, I reopened them. Before me was an angel.
"Peter, you're awake," the angel said to me. "Don't try to move. You've been in a terrible accident. You're healing, so try to relax. My name is Dr. Ann Pierce." I didn't know angels had proper names, but since I couldn't say anything, my only option was to listen.
Listen I did. The angel named Ann Pierce had found me in the woods, my body mangled and lying in a deep ravine. I'd been in bad shape - near death, she told me. Instead of describing my injuries in greater detail, Ann the angel went on to me about herself. I found that odd, but my lack of voice kept me from intervening. According to her, she wasn't an angel, but an actual doctor.
"I was a doctor," she said, "at Chicago's Northwestern Memorial Hospital - a surgeon, actually, in the specialty of head trauma. Lucky for you, I left that job fifteen months ago and moved here, to the woods. Your skull was fractured in two places. You had bleeding on the brain - a cerebral edema - causing swelling and bruising. I had to relieve the pressure. You've recovered, mostly, from that."
I tried again to speak, wanting to interrupt. "Don't try to talk," she warned. "I'll be right back." Dr. Ann returned with a small bowl.
"Here," she said, "just let this ice melt in your mouth. You haven't spoken in some time, so we've got to start generating some saliva - get you swallowing again so that your vocal cords can function. Don't try to chew."
She was right about the swallowing. It felt as though I had forgotten how, and it took several attempts to relearn it. I was completely worn out just from that, and she must have noticed.
"That's enough for now," she said softly. "You need to rest. I'll be back in a few hours, and we're going to try some warm chicken broth. I know you have tons of questions. I suggest you try to decide their importance in order. It's going to take a day or two before you're talking normally. I'll answer them all, just not at once."
I tried to sleep, as exhausted as I was, but sleep did not come. I had too many thoughts, and they became questions - questions I couldn't answer and couldn't ignore. The first was whether I was truly awake and no longer dreaming. The second was why Jackie wasn't there with me.
The third was more poignant and frightening: was I Doctor Ann Angel's patient, or her prisoner?
"That's enough for now," she said softly. "You need to rest. I'll be back in a few hours, and we're going to try some warm chicken broth. I know you have tons of questions. I suggest you try to decide their importance in order. It's going to take a day or two before you're talking normally. I'll answer them all, just not at once."
I tried to sleep, as exhausted as I was, but sleep did not come. I had too many thoughts, and they became questions - questions I couldn't answer and couldn't ignore. The first was whether I was truly awake and no longer dreaming. The second was why Jackie wasn't there with me.
The third was more poignant and frightening: was I Doctor Ann Angel's patient, or her prisoner?
The chicken broth tasted as delicious to me as any filet mignon I'd ever eaten. The egg-shaped lidocaine lozenge slowly melting in the bowl reminded me of mom feeding me that chicken noodle soup with the golden egg. Doctor Ann spoon-fed me the broth, and afterwards, she started spoon-feeding me answers.
I'd been dragged here on a makeshift stretcher. Ann had performed a crude surgery, and it saved my life. I was shocked to learn that it was April first. She took great pains to let me know I wasn't being pranked. I didn't laugh, but she did get a smile from me. All of those statements only created more questions. I wasn't handcuffed to the bed, so that was something, I guessed.
"So you were just out for a walk, in the middle of nowhere, and happened upon me, unconscious and all mangled?" I asked in disbelief.
"No," Ann said with a sigh. "I was out checking my traps on the quad, and saw some unnatural colors about halfway up the cliff face. That, I assume, was your backpack, so in the most literal sense, your pack saved your life, not me."
"Why aren't I in a hospital, if my injuries were... are, so severe?"
"No time," she replied, perking up, "is the short answer. It's about thirty-five, forty minutes to the general store from where you were. Your heartrate was all over the place, and your vitals were dropping rapidly. At the time, I was the most qualified person to make the call. I was also the only qualified person. I was also the only person."
"And I appreciate that," I said flatly. "It's obvious I owe you my life, so don't take this the wrong way. Once you got me... what's it called - stabilized? Once that happened, why didn't you get a hold of someone? Where's my wife? Who else knows I'm here?"
Ann pulled a chair up real close to the head of the bed. "No one," she exclaimed. "No one else knows you're here, including your wife."
"Why?" I asked incredulously, "What are you not telling me, Ann?"
She had a decent bedside manner, as doctors go, but the millisecond she averted her eyes I knew there was more to the story. That was thanks to what my wife had done to me, ironically. I wouldn't have been nearly so alert for signs of dishonesty otherwise.
"Alright," I continued, "I'm fine now. Let's go. Take me to that store so I can..."
It finally dawned on me. There would have been a search party, unless my wife and friends wanted me dead. People who go missing in the forest get a lot of media attention as well. Ann wasn't only holding out on my wife; she was holding out on a whole lot of somebodies.
Okay, listen," Ann said softly, filling the silence. "I can see the wheels spinning. I'm not a psychopath, alright?"
"When you have to lead with that, Ann," I replied, "it doesn't make me feel good or convince me." Seeing the stricken look on her conflicted face, I chuckled to put her at ease. It seemed prudent, given that I was fifty-fifty on her being a psychopath.
After a lighter moment, Dr. Pierce went on. "There's more to it, Peter - much more. The first two weeks, I couldn't leave you, not even for a minute. And yes, that's a professional opinion. You've been here for twenty-nine days, counting today. So the last two weeks are more complicated. I was scared, for several reasons, and I needed you to at least regain consciousness before telling anyone. We can talk more about my fear later, once I tell you everything.
"You also have a lateral break in your forearm. Your right leg was punctured by a branch. It's immobilized because I don't have any scanning equipment to see what's happening in there. Movement could be very bad for it, and for you generally. Your left leg is also broken, possibly in two places. You have at least one broken rib. Most are bruised because you fell about 30-40 feet, and the only buffers were branches, and those immovable objects do great damage to human bone. I've been monitoring your respiratory function the entire time, and it doesn't seem to me that any of your broken ribs, however many there are, have punctured any internal organs."
"That's depressing," I responded, "so let's stop talking about all that for now. Ann, can we talk about what's so complicated for a bit? I'm pretty nervous right now, being here like this, and it would help me sleep tonight if I felt better about my guardian angel not doubling as my captor."
Ann laughed finally, and then nodded. "I can see that," she admitted. After taking the empty bowl to the kitchen, she came back with more chopped ice for me, and a beer for herself.
"Where should I start?" she asked, and I wasn't sure if her question was posed to me or to herself.
"How about with why a brain surgeon is hiding in the middle of a forest?" I asked as she fixed my pillows.
"I'm not exactly hiding," she jabbed back. "There are about seventy-five people living in this community."
"And do you have any neighbors within a mile of you?" I pressed.
"No," she replied after thinking it over.
"Then it makes no difference how many people live out here," I told her. Then I waited.
Ann fiddled with her hands. It looked like a habit. She was contemplating what or how much to tell me. I was going to use all my faculties - the ones I'd foolishly let atrophy with my lying, withholding wife - to read her as she related her story.
"I was an up-and-coming brain surgeon in Chicago," she started. "I worked very hard to get there. I married Ralph a year out of college, and I thought we were in love and good together. The problem was, I was married to my job too. As I was building my fame, I was also pushing my husband away. It wasn't like we never talked about it. I just never listened to him... to his concerns."
Her voice was becoming tiny, and there was introspection there. I felt her sincerity.
"Finally," she continued, "he stopped talking. We had just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary." She chuckled bitterly. "'Celebrated' isn't right in any sense of the word. I forgot about it totally. I could see the hurt in his eyes when I got home so late. He motioned towards our dining room table, saying not one word, and went to bed. There was a card for me, and a dozen red roses.
"All of the next five days, I'd made plans to get away. I'd moved my schedule around and called in some favors from my colleagues at other area hospitals, desperately needing to make this up to him. The fifth day, I'd been greeted at work by a process server. The note inside the envelope had said not to contact him. He'd left the country with most of our money, and his twenty-four-year-old admin. He'd coldly ended with 'Have a good life, bitch.'"
There were some tears. I didn't need all my faculties to know how sincere she was. I also got the sense that few people had heard her tale of woe, and that she badly needed to unburden herself.
"That day," she began again after taking a long draw off her beer, "I had a 10:00 am surgery. Lindy Evans was a beautiful eleven year-old girl with a large, but operable, brain tumor. I should have postponed. We'd learned that over and over: 'Don't perform surgery under stress or duress.' My God complex had gotten in the way. I made a critical error and an eleven..."
Tears were flowing more freely. There was anxiety, and despair, in her voice, but in her eyes... in her eyes I saw relief.
"...I killed an eleven year old girl." Doctor Ann Pierce was quiet then, overwrought by her previous actions and current confession to a mere stranger. I laid there thoughtfully watching her as she cried, and my heart went out to her. I had no need to hear more of her story. It had been clear she had run away from her horrible situation.
"I'd give you a hug," I said sincerely, "but I'm a little, ah, tied up right now." Ann looked at me finally, wiping her eyes, and gave me a smile. She appreciated me lightening the mood, if I read her correctly. But then she surprised me by leaning in and cautiously hugging me.
"Is that why you're out here?" I asked. "In the middle of nowhere?"
"Mostly," she admitted. "In one day - one fucking day - I lost everything I held dear. Two parents lost the treasure of their young lives, at my hand. There was nothing left for me there."
"Well, now we know why," I simply stated.
"What?" she inquired. "Why, what?"
"You were put here to be my angel!" I exclaimed. "You saved me. It sounds like without you, I wouldn't have made it. So now, at least for me, I know why. I mean, who has an accident like that, and is stumbled upon by a brain surgeon? What are the odds?"
I watched Ann process my words. She had probably helped save plenty of lives before the tragedy with Lindy Evans. Saving mine was probably second nature and an afterthought to her. To me, naturally, it was everything.
The time seemed to slow down, even though we were busy. At first, Ann kept massaging my legs and arm to keep them from atrophying. The right leg bandage was first off. All of the Amoxicillin she'd given me since day one had kept my wound infection-free. Now I was up to one good arm and leg. The other two were still crudely splinted, and she was constantly telling me to quit trying to adjust myself in bed. My left leg was released from captivity shortly thereafter. After examining me the best she could, I was told we'd need to begin physical therapy. Walking was a chore, at first, even within the confines of the cabin.
Ann had left me alone several times since I became alert again. I wasn't sure what Ann was up to when she left. I'd come to trust her, so I'd tell myself that whatever it was, it was likely in my best interests and hers. I assumed she was going for supplies or to check her traps, but I never asked.
Evenings, we'd sit together and enjoyed dinner, and some beverages made with spirits, which I'd sorely missed. Then, we engaged in comfortable and familiar conversation. Ann was easy to talk to and I found out about her entire relationship with Ralph, her ex, and all the good times they'd had before the dark days. I learned that she was so adept out here in the wilderness because she'd grown up with 'prepper' parents in northern Idaho. Living off the land for her was like tying a shoe. Ann was thirty-four years old. She had the wisdom of a forty-year-old. I'd find myself studying Ann, when we ran out of words. I'm sure she'd picked up on it. Her body and face were very average - plain. Whether by fate or by design - maybe a bit of both - I'd gotten to know it fairly well over the past month. Without knowing her beautiful personality, I'd have walked right past her on the street and never paid any attention. She was, indeed, a beautiful person, and my earlier suspicions had melted away.
She asked me about my life as well. I told her most everything, including the untimely death of my parents. I mentioned my wedding day, and Jackie's name on several occasions, but never what had occurred on that fateful night.
It was a Saturday night, at the end of April when Ann brought in a bowl of freshly-popped corn and sat next to me. She'd been slowly moving closer to me over the previous three weeks, like a cat warming to a new person, and finally, she was more or less, in my lap.
I raised an eyebrow to her. She gave a little snicker, but also a hopeful look that spoke in a universal language. That wasn't her only surprise.
"Alright, Peter," she began with a pressing tone, "tonight, I want to talk about you and Jackie."
I just shrugged, hoping to avoid the entire mess, but her expression made clear she wasn't going to budge.
"You're married to her," she continued, "yet I never hear anything about your wife - except superficially, that is. Why not?"
I was sure that she already knew something about my wife. Her beautiful personality hadn't completely dulled my newfound skepticism and suspicion. She was the one who had to go into town to get supplies, groceries and toiletries. She may have seen something on the TV or in the paper.
I considered it highly unlikely that anybody in my former friend group - and certainly not Jackie herself - would have aired out their dirty laundry. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected that Ann had only heard one side of the story. That was strange to me, though, because it felt like she knew more - that, perhaps, she hadn't bought into the bullshit that Jackie and her orgy friends had likely fed to the cameras.
I really liked Ann. I had to admit that it was more than that, though. I was starting to develop feelings for her - the kind I'd once developed for Jackie. I didn't want to screw anything up by lying to her, but I wondered if telling her the whole truth might not do the same thing.
"Had it not been for my accident, we were headed for divorce," I said firmly. "I don't really want to talk about her, unless you're forcing me to."
Ann paused, deep in thought. "She thinks you're dead!" Ann suddenly proclaimed, her voice urgent. "She's a wreck, Peter. I've seen the news footage."
I quickly understood where she was coming from, and didn't hold it against her. Just as I'd suspected, Jackie hadn't told the whole story, and therefore, Ann didn't know the circumstances from the night of my accident. And Jackie probably was a wreck. She'd only meant to cuckold me, after all, not to kill me. I could picture Jackie at a podium, sad and racked with guilt. I could also see her running home to a big orgy with her friends afterwards, as consoling as that would be. I refocused on what Ann was saying - or getting to - and I unfortunately let my emotions take over.
"So," I deadpanned, giving her a steely look, "when are you going to tell the world? When is your big reveal, Ann?"
First, the bowl of popcorn slipped, then flew off her lap. Then, she was up in a flash and into the small bathroom, slamming the door behind her. That was the very last thing I'd wanted to do - hurt her. My reaction surprised me, and an uncomfortable truth became clear. While working hard to recover physically, I wrestled uncertainly with my feelings about Jackie and the end our relationship.
When Ann returned, I asked - almost begged her - to please sit down next to me.
"Listen, Ann," I said apologetically, "that was very wrong, and I'm sorry. I haven't come to terms about dealing with my wife, and I'm not sure I'm ready to, but I'd certainly like to start that conversation over. I'll tell you what you want to know, and maybe you can tell me about what you've seen in the news."
She agreed and accepted my apology. After sweeping up the spilled popcorn, she brought us fresh drinks, setting the entire bottle on the table next to us.
"Peter, before we get into what I'm sure is going to be a painful story," she said, "I have to address what you said and why I ran out.
"You see," she continued, "I was a good surgeon. At the risk of boasting, I was a great surgeon. The mistake I made was horrifying to the world, and especially to my world. I couldn't get past the fact that I should have seen the obvious risks - both things, if you're wondering. I should have seen what was happening with my husband, and I should have known that nothing good could have come from doing surgery on that poor little girl that morning, in my emotional state. I couldn't forgive myself, and I still can't.
"But then, here I am again. Perhaps you don't realize the implications here. I saved your life. That's where the fairytale ends. After that... to be honest, Peter, I'm not sure what in the hell I've been thinking this whole time."
Call it Stockholm Syndrome if you like. Hearing her admit that she knew the situation was weird - and probably criminal, even if I didn't press charges - made me feel better, not worse.
"First, Ann," I replied, "to quote one of my favorite Tommy Lee Jones films, 'You can't stop what's comin'. Sure, you could have been more aware of your ex-husband's concerns or woes and not communicating. Would he still have run off with his assistant? We'll never know for sure. You can blame yourself for the botched surgery if you want to, but we both know that what happened was the very last thing you ever intended. I know this: you saved my life - probably with stuff from your kitchen drawers or your shed."
"The problem remains," she said stoically. "I fucked up. As soon as I decided not to make the phone call that first night - maybe that second day, let's say - I tied the noose around my neck. I could argue, as a medical professional, that you could have died had I left to make that call, but I should have alerted the proper authorities, and I didn't. 'Good Samaritan' laws provide for the do-or-die scenario, but after that, I would look like that women from the movie Misery."
"I'm sorry, Ann," I said quietly. "For what it's worth, I'm never going to say you kidnapped me, even if tortured. I mean, I am free to go aren't I?"
She looked a little apprehensive.
I let a smile cross my mouth, and then let out a little chuckle. Ann's mood changed and I watched her shoulders relax. She really was stressed out. I supposed she should have been - and I ought to have been too. Within seconds, though, we were both laughing our heads off. In an awkward moment, our eyes met. I leaned in - close, but not all the way. Ann suddenly looked unsure. But then she tilted her head slightly, and our lips met for the first time. The kiss was tender and tentative. She tasted good.
Suddenly, I had a need to adjust... my cock. It had been a long time for me, but I knew at least that part of me worked, because I was reminded each morning. There was no way to hide it from Ann, and, since she'd been my doctor and caregiver, for a while now, I didn't think there was any need for embarrassment.
She saw me do my not-so-subtle move too. With a smirk, she asked, "can I help you take care of that?"
I didn't know if she had a boyfriend or even a friend with benefits out there in the woods, but she seemed eager, and I certainly was. I nodded like a young teen, with a slight blush, and I'm sure a ridiculous, nervous smile.
It was slow going back to the bedroom, just like everywhere I tried to walk. Once there, I pulled Ann close with my good arm and began kissing her some more. After a bit, she pulled away and then gently pushed me back on the bed.
"We're gonna have to do this my way," Ann said. "We can't risk you getting hurt." I felt fine, and told her so. She wasn't having any of it.
"Peter, you're recovering from a severe head injury," she told me in her doctor voice. "We can't have a lot of blood flow to your brain, or your heartrate getting too high. That could cause a hemorrhage." As Ann explained, here hands were busy unsnapping the jeans she'd bought me, and releasing the zipper. I wasn't going to argue with her warm hands brushing against my painfully engorged penis.
She stood after getting me somewhat undressed and set some pillows up high against the headboard.
"Here," she ordered. "Lay here, with your head propped up. Try to relax - and be patient. Don't try to speed it up, just enjoy the feelings." With a sly, sexy smile Ann added, "Doctor's orders."
Ann was by far the most experienced woman I'd ever encountered to that point in my life. Everything was so different from my high school and college encounters - the opposite, actually. Jackie, for as much as I'd loved her, couldn't hold a candle to Ann. From the moment she put her hand on my dick, it felt like I was constantly gasping for air.
She didn't tickle me by trying to find the sensitive spots. She did so, because she already knew what spots to touch. Her technique was slow, which made me almost angry at first. There was a need and urgency within me. But she was right. My ears never heated up, and my face didn't flush. My breathing remained steady throughout.
Finally, a couple of fingers from her other hand below my balls, gently massaging my perineum, set me off. Her grip on my shaft tightened as she saw the first white-hot jet of sperm fly upwards, and, with barely any up-and-down movement, she had me emptying a gallon of pent-up cum all over my stomach and her hands and arms.
The way she squeezed me and applied pressure to my prostate without any insertion, kept me hard - astonishingly hard, and ready for more. Ann removed her jeans, carefully climbed up on top of me, and lowered herself over my shaft.
"Don't you dare move," she told me. "I'll control it." And boy did she ever. I found the entire lovemaking session, well, just that. I knew she was concerned for my health, but the way she controlled the pace, it was making love. There was no other way to describe it. Maybe five minutes later, we both came together. I felt flush that time, and a little light-headed.
Ann stood. "Stay put," she said. "Try to relax all your muscles, and breathe through your nose." She went into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. After cleaning me up, Ann lay down next to me and cuddled into my chest. We soon fell into deep, restful sleep.
After waking in the morning, I was out of sorts - not because I could smell the black oak burning in the fireplace, or the coffee and side pork cooking in the kitchen. I'd dreamt - of Jackie, oddly - and I didn't like what I remembered. In the dream, I was actually searching for her. Our friends had turned out to be some sort of double agents, and they'd tricked my wife away from me. If I'd been like James Bond in the dream, that would have been cool. I hadn't even been close to James Bond. I'd been weak and pathetic, whining and worrying, and relying on others in the dream - mostly faceless, nameless characters - to help me. The worst of it, I realized, was that I'd been heartbroken and frantic. I didn't want to feel like that about her anymore.
Ann came in and we went through our typical morning exercises and walking - back-and-forth - around the rooms of the cabin. As soon as she sat me at the kitchen table, she couldn't hold back her angst any longer.
"Okay, Peter," she scolded, "out with it. Why the long face this morning? Does this have to do with what we did last night?"
"What? No. No!" I answered shocked. "No, Ann. That was... amazing!"
"Then what?" she demanded, like an inquisitor. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
It's... It was a dream," I sighed in response. "I had a dream about... Jackie."
Ann nodded thoughtfully - she seemed to know I was being honest. We ate a quiet breakfast, but immediately afterward, she helped me into my comfortable chair in the living area, near the fire.
"I'll be right back with fresh tea," she told me, "and then I want to hear the story of your wife and you."
I started tentatively. Ann kept interrupting and probing for more specifics. It was a long and tiring morning, as I told her everything, including the events of the night of my accident. Ann listened intently, sitting directly across from me on a chair of her own. I was sure she didn't miss a thing.
After a bathroom break, we settled back in, this time with Ann sitting next to me.
"Well," she began, "now I have a different perspective. What I saw in that brief TV interview I took as raw, unequivocal love. Now, I think it was probably some of that, but mixed with some amount of guilt. Still, there's no doubt that your wife is beside herself with grief and loss. There was a profound sadness in her voice. She was basically pleading, with anyone and no one at all.
"So, the million-dollar question, Peter," she said stoically. "What do you want to do?"
There was a long pause as I considered her question, despite having had plenty of time to think about it. I told Doctor Ann I didn't want her to get in any trouble. I also didn't want to be with Jackie anymore; at least that's what I told myself. I didn't think I could trust her with my heart ever again. I explained all that to Ann and she seemed to understand my predicament. My indecisiveness led us to agree to wait it out a while longer.
So that's what we did. Over the next few weeks, Ann and I became lovers. As I started to rapidly heal, our lovemaking became more strenuous and rewarding. Ann was definitely the teacher and I, the student. When we weren't physically entwined, we were having deep, meaningful discussions.
On Monday, May fifteenth, the day after Mother's Day, that all changed. There was a knock on Ann's cabin door. I quickly tucked myself into the closet in Ann's master bedroom and listened to most of the conversation.
It seemed the infamous five had hired a private investigation firm after the state and local officials had finally called off their search for me. At least that's what Ann was being told. The guy at the door was very brash and pushy. He really wanted into our little cabin. Ann was able to hold him off, but we knew that he - or maybe they - would be back. We figured they'd likely surveil the cabin from a distance.
"I've got to get into town and see if anything's changed." Ann said it with a great deal of distress in her voice. "I'll try to get as much information as I can about what's been happening with their efforts to find you."
"No!" I responded with emphasis. "They may be watching us already. Wait two hours, or they'll suspect."
I gave Ann a list of things we needed. I knew enough about phones and networks to get us internet through a cell signal, even though it wasn't directly in my professional wheelhouse. The little country store wasn't too far away, and they had a signal; which meant a tower was somewhere nearby. I knew it wouldn't be very reliable with all the trees around, but we needed that connection to the outside world - a way to get information. Ann was reluctant, and I sensed she was scared.
"What is it, Ann?" I asked curiously. "What's causing the fear?"
"It's nothing..." she said, trying to diminish my question. "Okay, maybe just from my childhood. My parents worried all the time about someone's ability to track them. I obviously didn't share their concerns, but every once in a while, well, I can't help feel the same."
I made quick work of setting up the new laptop later that evening. Ann had done well, traveling down the mountain to a suburb of Visalia and finding a Best Buy. The trip there and back had been nearly two hours. By eight that night, only stopping for a light meal, I had the phone and the laptop configured - not only to boost a tower signal, but to constantly rotate the IP address by using a VPN. Maybe three-letter government agencies would have the ability to follow it back to its source, but for some private entity, it would be impossible.
Ann and I didn't make love that night. In fact, we barely slept. I'd wake up and see her just watching me. I knew she was worried, and so was I.
The supposed PI returned two days later, and once more towards the end of the week. It was the same guy each time - Dalton, he called himself - and he was really harassing Ann. I wondered who might name their kid Dalton, but what I honestly wanted was to come out of hiding and tell him to fuck off. It gave me a sense of pride to feel that way about my lover - my savior and lover. Ann and I were developing a strong relationship, and I was becoming protective of her.
Within two days, I had almost all the media coverage - local, national, and social - regarding Jackie's missing husband. That is me, I remember thinking.
I had been reported missing at ten-thirty-four the morning after my accident. That one fact spoke volumes to me about my wife and so-called friends. Alise and Jeff had driven down to the market. That probably also meant that Alise' husband, had still been enjoying my wife's wares. The image of that made me want to vomit. Ann understood immediately, too.
By the time local law enforcement had contacted rangers, around noon, a search had already begun. By then, Ann said, she'd been nearly halfway through her life-saving surgery. Putting the events together in a timeline, from both Jackie's and Ann's perspectives helped solidify my decision about the future.
The search had continued for three days. The five backstabbers had gotten motel rooms in the closest town, and the local network media affiliates had taken up residence in the empty parking lot next door to the motel. That had become the base for all communications.
Late on the first day, rescue workers had discovered my backpack hanging from a limb on the downslope where I'd fallen. I found it odd that trackers hadn't found any signs of the makeshift travois on which Ann had dragged me back to her cabin, or any evidence of tire tracks for that matter. It wasn't just odd; it was disturbing. Still, I was enthralled with Ann and decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Jeff had handled the media spokesman duties those first few days. When asked why the group would have allowed me to go out on the trail after dark, he'd made up some mumbo-jumbo about all of us drinking too much, and me being upset about something. When forced to elaborate, he'd claimed the group had had no idea what my state of mind had been, and told the reporters that I'd "Sort of gone off the deep end."
Finally, after seventy-two hours, rescue officials had held a conference to inform the media, that the search-and-rescue operation had been reclassified to 'recovery.' That meant they'd believed me to be dead. Jackie had appeared at the podium an hour later. She'd seemed inconsolable, begging for someone to find me. I watched that interview several times. Ann sat across the room, giving me space but also eyeing me intently. I couldn't help but feel sorry for my wife.
My wife! I thought. Jackie was still my wife, and I loved her - even after what she'd done to me. Ann was on my lap then, and I didn't remember how she'd gotten there. Her warm, soft hand brushed away my tears. She kissed my face, and eventually, our lips found each other's. In almost no time, we were naked and making passionate, desperate love on the sofa. The smell of her was right. Her taste was all right. The way she made love to me was definitely all right and perfect. It wasn't with me, as much as it was to me. The way her body molded into mine after we lay there, exhausted, was almost too good to be true.
When I awoke, I found myself in bed, but I wasn't concerned. I simply concluded my savior had probably taken care of me again. I smelled the coffee and the bacon, and knew everything was alright. I decided to surprise Ann by getting myself to the kitchen table unassisted. Her shock at seeing me hobble into the room was quickly replaced by an amorous smile. My feelings for her were growing like the late spring flowers.
"Hey, sleepyhead," she exclaimed teasingly. "You look very chipper this morning!"
"Chipper?" I teased back. "How old are you anyway?"
"Old enough to know better," Ann said with a brilliant smile across her face, but something was off again. That's something Jackie had often said. It was also a line from one of her favorite country songs. I couldn't recall the name.
"But I'm," I started, and then Ann finished the verse in time with me, "still too young to care."
After a heavy breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee, I began again on the chronology of my disappearance. Three days after Jackie's impassioned pleas, the group had left for home. After that, mentions of the incident, never mind the aftermath information, became harder and harder to find. It seemed I had no longer been a current event.
Through social media, I discovered that Amber was in real trouble and had taken things the worst. I understood that she'd take heat from her parents. After all, the mess had happened at their cabin. They had probably been furious with her. But through one of Jackie's posts, I learned something else.
"What an incredibly sad and horrible week. Losing Peter and coming to terms with that has left me sadder and more hopeless than I could ever have envisioned. Now, with my dear friend Amber's nervous breakdown, I don't know how much more I can take. If anyone wants to come to my aid, I will be by my friend's side until she's better." Jackie had posted that only four days after the group had returned to the Bay area.
Amber had a free spirit - adventurous, and also ridiculously honest. If she felt she'd contributed to my demise, I could see her retreating within herself. She had been awfully drunk that night, and I wondered if she'd become inebriated on purpose - and if she'd been coerced.
Everyone had seemed to go back to work the following week, according to their posts, and someone would occasionally memorialize me. I wondered if it was done out of guilt. I saw that Jackie's posts came to a screeching halt in the third week after my accident, and before I'd even fully regained consciousness at Ann's cabin.
Knowing that Dalton character was snooping around made me think that the PI firm had probably told the group to reduce communication, while they investigated. I was worried for Ann, and for me too. I selfishly wanted my relationship with her to continue blossoming.
But Dalton was back at week's end, snooping and asking Ann a lot of questions, especially about her recent purchases. The conversation became more heated as I listened from the closet. Ann told me after he left that if she didn't allow him access to look around, he'd be back with the authorities. As it was, she thought he was going to push his way past her. We talked at length that night about our options.
"I'm going to tell you some things," she said, becoming suddenly serious. "Please listen first, and then I'll answer your questions. And please don't start freaking out, okay?"
I promised I wouldn't, and Ann began to tell me a tale of her youth.
"When I was a kid," she continued, "I lived with my prepper parents, as I told you. What I didn't say, was that for a few years, we lived on a state militia compound."
She decided to pause there, searching my face for the judgment she'd asked me to refrain from - the judgment that wasn't there, because it meant nothing to me.
"I know people there," she started again. "We can go there for a while until all this... dies down. But the real question is, are you ready to see this through? Are you ready to give up your whole life?
"Your whole life," she muttered as she chuckled. "The world thinks your life ended in the bottom of that ravine. But you and I know it didn't, Peter. You have a great job, there's a great chance you're going places. You have a home, and a wife - and if those interviews and statements are any indication, a wife that loves you deeply, despite her misgivings."
Yeah, maybe," I grumbled, "but I don't think I can live like that. You weren't there. She plotted with those people - people I called 'friend' - and after I said no to her ultimatum, she showed me her back. I'm having a hard time reconciling that with love - at least with the way I understand love. I've thought about it a lot since waking up. Some days it's most of what I think about. I don't see any way back from what happened - from what she did. In a certain sense, I think it would be easier for me if she had had a drunken one-night stand and claimed it was a mistake. What she did was cold, and calculated, and very in-my-face. I don't think I can forgive that."
"Alright," Ann said, after a long pause, "so what about the rest of it? A good life, the job and the money - your potential. You could have all of that, with or without Jackie. Hell, you could probably have most any woman you wanted. Right off the bat, you've got your looks, but then there's an internal beauty -one I'm already intoxicated by, to be honest. I just don't want you to have any regrets, Peter. I don't want saving your life to be a waste."
"Ann," I replied as soothingly as possible, and motioned for her to sit by me. "I honestly don't think there's anything back there for me. I appreciate the pep talk, but think of it this way: I didn't physically die that night. You saved me, but inside, I did die. I thought Jackie would be my whole life. I put everything into it, and I never considered anything else. Maybe that's my blinders, or it could be my youth - my immaturity.
"When I think of what's been lost, I'm sad. I'm sad for the me that's still left. But then we became close. My inside is healing just like my outside, and both are because of you. I'm not sure I'll ever be the man I was before that night - in fact, it's probably better if I'm not. It's better if I'm a different kind of man: one that you can love and respect, and - who knows? - maybe grow old with, if that's in the cards."
Ann hugged me tightly and it hurt like hell. I suddenly learned that ribs take a long to heal. She looked up at me, and I knew everything was going to be alright.
"Okay, Peter," she said, switching gears. "We'll need to remove any evidence of your ever being here. We'll have to burn a few things. The problem with that is they're probably watching the cabin closely. We'll need to do it in a way as to not arouse suspicions. You're going to have to lay low in your room for the next few days. I have a feeling that there may be cameras on us. When we leave, you'll have to spend the night before in the back of the Bronco, so they see only me leaving the next morning.
"We'll have to go through the Tioga Pass," she said. "It's opening this week. We can head north, through Lake Tahoe and Reno. We can take US-95 from there. It's desolate, and less traveled."
"The pass usually doesn't open until June." I pointed out. "It's treacherous. You want me to ride in the back of your Bronco, with no seat belt, for what - three-and-a-half hours?"
"Um-hum," Ann laughed. "Look what you already survived. You're invincible, Peter, that's what you are. Plus, you'll have a couple empty soda bottles to piss in. I won't even be able to see it back there."
She was teasing as usual. I looked forward to the smile that followed: that little curve, followed by the dimple that formed at the corner of her mouth on the left side. I would have gone anywhere with her at that point. My mind was made up.
So that's what we did over the next two days. All the blinds and shades remained closed. I cleaned my room thoroughly, putting things outside my door in the hallway so that Ann could strategically place things in the fireplace. When I thought I had the bedroom and bathroom immaculate, Ann came in and found other things to dispose of. We ate the remainder of the perishable food and a few canned items. There wasn't any more bacon smell to wake up to, but Ann made sure we had coffee.
I was excited to begin the journey. It did feel odd, not having more feelings for Jackie, and I questioned myself about it. Those last two nights, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, really trying to feel the love I'd had for her right up to the moment I'd seen her wrapped up in Todd's arms. She hadn't been wrapped in his arms, though. His arms hadn't even been touching her, like mine would have been. She'd been cuddled up into his chest. She wanted him. He hadn't seemed to care about her - just the fact that he could have his best friend's woman. For all her professions of love, it was her that threw everything away that night, like yesterday's garbage, just for a cheap fuck.
None of those people had cared about me, or my feelings. I decided they probably still didn't. They were like most people - selfish. That made my decision so much easier.
The second night came, and I snuck out to the vehicle after midnight. Earlier, Ann had placed a few heavy blankets in the vehicle. It was a fitful night, and I slept with one eye open. When I woke up, Ann was placing a suitcase, a duffle bag and backpack next to me. She mouthed, "Don't move."
The drive passed surprisingly quickly. Our next stop was the first and only gas super-center, where the pass road intersected California Hwy 395. Ann had been talking to me the entire time. She'd felt watched the previous night too, but hadn't seen anything to indicate we'd been followed as we'd fled up and over the mountains.
"I really need to pee," I told her, with a screwed-up smile. "And maybe buy some junk food."
"I think it's safe," she replied as she pulled around back by the truck wash. "I'll give you cash. When you come out, I'll go in. I'll even let you ride up front with me for the rest of the trip."
She was so cute. I went inside and almost ran to the head. It felt like my bladder was going to evacuate through my dick hole. Finally, relieved, I washed up and was really looking forward to a bag of chips and a shitty packaged donut.
As I stepped out of the restroom, there he was. In the few seconds it took me to recognize Dalton, he grabbed my arm and pushed me back into the head. I quickly looked around, and amazingly, there weren't any others in the restroom with us. That was fascinating, considering the dozens of people I'd encountered between the car and the restroom. I was about to struggle against his grip when he locked eyes with me.
"You wife wants you to come home, Peter," he said with plenty of emotion. "She wants you to know she loves you and wants you to come home."
"Yeah," I spat at him, "I don't want to go home. Tell her she can have her friends to keep her happy and warm at night. Just tell her to leave me alone!"
"It's not that simple," Dalton retorted with equal venom. "A lot of people spent a lot of time and a great deal of money to look for you. Now we know you're alive, and you need to make things right."
I tried to push my way past him, but he was expecting it. We struggled - me trying to free myself from his grasp, and Dalton looking to position himself between me and the door. At some point during the struggle, I lost my footing on the slippery floor. I remember the side of my head hitting the sink, and then looking up into Dalton's worried face from the floor - just before everything went black.
The dreams were horrific, but the bigger problem was trying to ascertain if they were really dreams or not. My head hurt all the time. It was hard to tell if that was because of my injuries, or because of the vile, disgusting existence I was forced to endure with my wife, Jackie. I supposed it could be both - the exact opposite of a loving, healing environment, and it dragged me down to hell one brain-piercing throb at a time.
My mind swirled as I lay on my bed in our home. Then Jackie was there, on hands and knees, her face just inches from mine. She was moaning and groaning, but not out of grief or remorse. It was guttural. It was animal. She was coming. Someone was behind her. Suddenly Todd's face came into view, his chin leaning on Jackie's left shoulder as he was clearly rutting in her. The evil smile he wore as he mercilessly defiled Jackie told me he was enjoying the vulgar dissection of our marriage.
I tried to move. I tried to talk, scream, even whisper. I couldn't do any of those things. I was paralyzed in such a way it seemed I might be invisible to them - except I wasn't. They were both looking right at me, thoroughly enjoying my debasement. The dreams, sometimes with Jackie in more inventive sexual positions, would always end after Todd unloaded in her, and then pulled out to nefariously wipe his soiled, extremely large cock on my face.
I only knew it was a dream after the fact, because each time, I had no recollection of things happening in any analogous or recognizable order. Those nightmares were interspersed with wonderful dreams of Ann and me. Sometimes they would be slightly sexual in nature, but mostly they would just be us together. In those dreams, I always felt loved because I felt connected to her.
From somewhere in my dream, I heard, "He's waking up again." In the dream, Ann and I were running through a field of daisies.
"He's regaining consciousness. Someone get the nurse." The daisies were gone. The blue cloud-splattered sky and the warm sunlight melted away. Ann was gone. My headache returned. The new smell was familiar, with a sterility to it. And what is that beeping? I wondered.
"Peter," the familiar voice stated. I heard shuffling, and then felt a hand in mine. "He's moving his hand," the same voice said.
My eyes opened and involutarily closed. The bright lights hurt my head. I squinted. There was a foggy form of a woman. As my eyes focused, the form became my wife, Jackie. A warm hand lifted my right eyelid and shined a bright light, then repeated the process with the left. The flurry of activity suddenly died down and everyone was intently watching me.
"Mr. Townsend, can you hear me?" a male voice asked. "Just blink if yes. Don't move your head." I did as he asked.
"You're at Memorial Hospital, Mr. Townsend," the man stated. "I'm Doctor Barnes. You've had a severe fall, and have been here for quite some time."
Dr. Barnes described my injuries, and they lined up exactly with what I remembered Ann telling me, that first day I'd woken up in her cabin. My wife was still next to me, tighly squeezing my hand. There were two other hospital employees in the room, too, and in the background stood, Todd and Alise.
"What are they doing here?" I asked, cutting someone off. "Where's Ann?"
The doctor looked at my wife, puzzled, and she returned his gaze. She didn't look as surprised. Ignoring my second question, she replied, "Our friends came with me. They've been so worried about you."
"Well I don't want them here," I demanded. "I want to talk to Ann."
"Who is that?" Jackie asked, looking from me to Dr. Barnes.
"I believe your husband is referring to the woman who found him," the doctor knowingly responded. "You will be able to speak to her later, Mr. Townsend. May I call you Peter?" I nodded.
"Right now," he continued, "we need to get a new CT scan, and formulate a rehabilitation plan to get you up and moving. That will be congruent with some solid food in your system. We removed your breathing and feeding tubes yesterday, as you were showing signs of continued consciousness.
"Well, I'll get that scan scheduled right away, and give you some time together," he went on. "Nothing strenuous and no excessive excitement, please. You can talk while relaxing, but that's it."
His gaze drifted towards the back of the room by the door. "You two will need to step out with me," he said to Todd and Alise.
Jackie obviously wasn't listening to Dr. Barnes and was talking at a mile a minute. She told me she was so happy I was awake, so happy I was alive, so happy I'd been found. It was touch and go for a while, she explained. She'd been so distraught. She conveniently forgot to mention exactly when she'd started to worry. She omitted the details of her 'morning after' in favor of making herself sound like the perfect wife.
I quickly tuned her out as my thoughts drifted to Ann. It was interesting that Jackie didn't know who my savior was. Suddenly, a light bulb came on.
"Jackie," I interrupted, "what's today's date?"
She stopped, stunned. "It's... ah, May twenty-third." She responded, a little too quickly.
"And how long have I been here?" I followed up.
She looked quizzically at me. "Since your accident," she told me, as if there wasn't any other answer.
"That's... impossible," I stuttered. I turned my face away from her, starring at the opposite wall.
Just then, an orderly came in, made sure I was secure, and started to roll me away to get the CT scan. It seemed telling that Jackie had clammed up tight after my declaration. Something very strange was going on, and I didn't expect to get many answers until I saw Ann. I had to see her. Missing her - feeling an emptiness in my life without her - made me realize just how far we'd come, emotionally.
When I was returned to my room, Dr. Barnes was there again, with my wife. He was telling her that it was time to go for the night and let me rest. After a few minutes of small talk, with the Dr. outlining my following day and eventual discharge plan, Jackie leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. Dr. Barnes wished us a good night, and his parting look told my wife she needed to follow soon.
"I know we have a lot to discuss, Pete," she said quietly, "and we will over the next few days. Get some rest." She paused for a moment, but decided to press on. "I love you, you know. I always have. I'm sure it's tough right now, piecing things together and thinking of that... night. In all the haze and uncertainty, my love for you is the sure thing. And I'm positive we'll be okay."
I just nodded as Jackie leaned closer and studied my face. I was already of the mind that the less I said the better, which only proved how badly I mistrusted her.
I laid in bed thinking for a very long time. Even if there'd been nothing to think about, I didn't want to roll the dice on another one of those nightmares. As it stood, though, I had quite the Gordian knot to untie: if it were indeed the end of May, as Jackie had said, then what had been real, and what had only been a dream? I kept insisting to myself that Ann, and the time we'd spent together, could not have been a dream. Dreams didn't have that kind of detail.
Jackie had done her best to act normal, but her best hadn't nearly been good enough. Why Todd and his wife had accompanied her to Visalia loomed ominously. I didn't really want to think about that. I was pretty sure my sudden outburst had told Todd where we stood. I thought about what Dr. Barnes had told me. He'd named the exact injuries Ann had told me I sustained. I reached under the blanket to my right leg. I could feel unevenness where the branch had punctured it during the fall.
Finally, I drifted off to sleep, and, for the first time in recent memory, I didn't dream. At the very least, I didn't remember them.
The next morning, a routine began - one I was quite familiar with. I was given a small serving of yogurt, some warm chicken broth, and eight ounces of Gatorade. Dr. Barnes came in and told me that the results of the CT scan were very promising, and that, barring any complications, I'd be observed for four more days, then released to go home. He said I was healing nicely, and their only concern was my head injury. When I corrected him and said, "Two head injuries," he looked at me strangely, and continued. The doctor told me he was sending the files to my family physician and also to a neurologist he'd recommended in our home town; I would need to see that specialist weekly for at least two months. The neuropsychologist will be in shortly to finish up your discharge.
Jackie came in alone, and tried to look busy getting me 'comfy.' "I'll need to leave mid-day," she lamented. "I've used all my FMLA leave, and besides, I need to get the house prepared for your arrival," she said with a smile.
She also mentioned having 'our' friends help her set up a ramp on our front porch. The doctor had said he didn't want me on any stairs for at least six weeks after going home. Luckily, we had a ranch-style home.
I responded flatly, "set up our spare room as my sleeping quarters." She looked surprised and defeated when I told her that.
Immediately, my reaction was to also inform her that I didn't want Todd in our home, but I realized it was a moot point. He - and for all I knew, maybe Jeff, - had probably been fucking her grief and concerns away, for months already. The truth was that I didn't want to go home. I didn't care that she was leaving, and I'm sure she picked up on that.
Forty minutes later, the door opened and there she was - followed closely by that son-of-a-bitch, Dalton. I instantly recoiled.
Ann seemed troubled by that. "Is this not a good time?" she asked, looking to Jackie.
"No, it's fine," Jackie replied, oblivious to my threatened demeanor. "He's been awake for a while. Honey, this is Ann P..."
"I know who it is!" I said loudly. There was an unsettling quiet in the room until Ann stepped forward towards my bed. More awkwardness ensued as I went to embrace her, while she had only been reaching to shake my hand. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all.
"I'm Ann Pierce," she said politely. "This is my husband, Dalton. We're so happy to see you awake and alert. We were quite worried about you, considering how we found you."
I studied her face intently for any sign of recognition or emotion. My confusion and, anger, weren't helping me concentrate. What the hell is happening? I thought.
My attention drifted, and I found every eye in the room staring back at me. That triggered what I'd describe as a healthy dose of paranoia. I decided to play along.
I focused on Ann; ignoring Dalton helped me cool off a little. "A 'thank you,' is in order, I suppose," I said with a half-smile. "Thank you for saving my life. Tell me about it - how you found me - what you did before getting me here."
"Well," Ann started nervously. She was wringing her hands. Something I'd observed her doing at the cabin. "Dalton and I were out on the trails in our quads. We're from the Midwest, by the way, and had rented a cabin near where you all were staying. Anyway, Dalton spotted something bright-colored in the trees as we came over a berm, and quickly realized it was a backpack. It had clearly fallen from above, so we drove over, trying to find a path closest to the tree. That's when we spotted you."
She left it there for some reason. I didn't say anything, but gave her a look telling her to continue.
"You were unconscious," she went on, "and in bad shape. Dalton quickly used a tarp we had in the vehicle, and a few sturdy branches to fashion a crude stretcher so we could get you back to our cabin." She'd used those exact words - 'crude stretcher' - when she told me this story the first time, minus the Dalton.
"I'm an M.D., so I tended to you as best I could without any medical supplies. You had a severe head injury and lots of swelling, so while my husband rushed down to the general store, I used my training to relieve the pressure on your brain. Nearly two hours later, authorities and paramedics were there, and then you were airlifted here to the hospital."
The look on my face must have shown my disbelief in her story. Everyone else was still staring at me, and I got the distinct feeling they were waiting to see if I accepted it.
"Well, I appreciate everything you've done," I stated flatly, "both of you - really, I'll never be able to thank you enough or repay you."
Dalton didn't try to shake my hand. Ann did, though, and then they left. I felt like my world left with her. When Jackie started up her mundane reverie, I couldn't even bear to look at her.
Jackie left shortly afterwards, with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see me in a few days. I had very little to say to her. We didn't have any time to discuss our issues, and I really had no desire.
I lay in bed, thinking. My mind was a pail of mush. The only interruptions were from nurses coming in to check on my vitals and bring me food. I finally asked for some paper and something to write with. I needed to get a grip on my situation, and wade through all the bullshit.
I tried to break down both stories as rationally as I could, recognizing that I desperately wanted one to be true and the other to be false. I still couldn't accept I'd been unconscious for so long; I had a powerful sense that I'd experienced at least some real and true things during that supposedly-lost time.
I had to admit, though, that the way I'd been unconscious so long was suspect. Yet, there were things about my memories of Ann that strained credulity - the fact that she could have gotten my injured and unconscious body back to her cabin alone, for instance. It also seemed highly suspicious that the search teams - the ones I'd seen, heard, and read about at Ann's cabin - had located my pack, but absolutely no other evidence that I'd suffered my accident or been rescued. Lastly, I had to wonder just how much somebody could have done for me with a bunch of kitchen utensils. The new Ann's story had trained professionals with real equipment getting to me within hours. The version I so wanted to be true had her singlehandedly stitching me back together like MacGyver, and then failing to contact anybody, ever. On reflection, it was hard to square 'my' Ann's saintly personality with such gross negligence.
Then there was my time with 'my' Ann at the cabin. I did remember worrying about why she hadn't contacted anybody, but I also remember those concerns melting away. My feelings for her had changed rapidly too. The way I'd fallen for her - or under her spell - seemed unlikely. The relationship seemed to go from zero to one-hundred in almost no time at all. That was the main point, I thought. My time with Ann was almost as much a blur as some of the dreams I knew were dreams. The sticking point was that, despite the blurriness, it all seemed so chronological - not just as it had happened, but still, in my hospital bed, as I feverishly scratched on my pad of paper.
As I wrote everything, and tried to prioritize it, I suddenly had a horrible thought. I began to wonder if even more of my memories were just dreams - or, rather, nightmares. Jackie's behavior had changed on a dime. Her new desires had seemed to go against everything we'd believed in as a couple.
I found myself wondering if I should trade one nightmare for another: the unfaithful wife for the far-more-severe head injury that had utterly scrambled my memory, and perhaps permanently destroyed my ability to tell dreams from reality.
I tried not to let the panic set in. I told myself that there must be some kind of footage somewhere to confirm some things - possibly going back to Amber and me at the general store. Of course, once I started telling myself I could play detective, the temptation to do so in favor of 'my' Ann was overwhelming. I wanted to see her cabin. I needed to see it.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Ralph!
Ann's ex-husband was the key to everything. She'd promised to she would check in on me once more - the next day - before returning to their home. That gave me one opportunity to interrogate her - to see if, somehow, I could get her to acknowledge that Ralph was real. If he was real, then 'my' Ann was real. That meant that everyone was lying to me - the doctor, the people at the hospital, Ann herself, Dalton - whoever he was - and, of course, my wife. I knew that should have terrified me, but I didn't. I wanted only to get to the truth.
A conspiracy of that scope did seem preposterous, and, if Dalton were really just a private investigator, it seemed quite unlikely that he'd have the pull or the resources to orchestrate it. My wife, I knew, had a motive to lie to me. If Ann was 'my' Ann, then she was vulnerable to all sorts of pressure; as much as I hated to think it, I had to concede the possibility that her 'admissions' to me at the cabin had been lies themselves. The doctors and nurses were a step too far. That was the sticking point.
I lifted my hospital blanket to examine my lower extremities. Fortunately, I wasn't secured or chained to the bed, except by all the leads and tubes. I gently swung my legs off the right hand side. It felt good, for some reason, to have my feet planted firmly on something solid. Then I evaluated the slack on the various leads and tubes. I could stand, and move a little. The main piece of equipment that most of the stuff was attached to had wheels, but was also plugged into an outlet. I knew well enough that disconnecting anything would set off alarm bells.
Carefully, I stood. Keeping my feet on the floor, I shuffled, rather than walked towards the door. There was an elongated vertical window in the door, so I could see out into the hallway. Inch by inch I crept until, finally, all the slack had been taken up. Looking out, I barely saw what appeared to be two men sitting in chairs off to the left of my room. They were both dressed in black suits, but their faces were just out of my view. I knew at that moment there was quite a lot Ann and others were keeping from me.
I carefully climbed back into bed, got myself sorted out, and slept well. For the first time since I'd regained consciousness - or had regained it again - I didn't feel like I was going mad. I knew I was being lied to. What a strange thought to have provided such comfort, but it did.
The next morning, I was relaxed and eating some cereal when Ann and Dalton arrived. Ann's façade didn't appear to be holding up. She seemed distant, and when Dalton said, "Isn't that right, dear?" he had to repeat what, precisely, was 'right.' Dalton did most of the talking, and I said very little. He eventually realized that both Ann and I were lost in our thoughts, so he bid a hasty farewell on their behalf. Ann shook my hand again, and turned quickly to exit.
"Give my best to Ralph, will ya?" I said in an upbeat manner as they got to the door. "How is the old bugger anyway?"
Ann stopped dead in her tracks, but otherwise didn't react. That was enough for me. Dalton turned back toward me with a 'if looks could kill' glance. Smiling at him - mostly smirking - I held my index finger to my throat. As I slowly swiped it right to left, I said, "I'd watch my back if I were you."
As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn't have. The knowledge that I had been, and was still being, lied to could only provide so much comfort. It was also pissing me off. That anger had finally come rushing out. I'd had to tip my hand regardless, but I hadn't had to outright threaten one of the conspirators.
He turned to Ann and quickly ushered her out with not another word. Maybe ten seconds later, his head peeked through the door.
"You're in no position to make idle threats," he said seriously, almost piteously. "Go home to your old life - and your wife - and consider yourself very lucky... because you are." He was gone nearly before the last word left his tongue.
Late on my final afternoon at the hospital, I asked for Dr. Barnes. When he arrived, I went straight at him.
"I'm sure you were given little or no choice," I deadpanned, "but I know about this sham. I want to know why, and I want to know now, or you and this hospital will be feeling my wrath."
Barnes was a cool character. It dawned on me that he might even be impersonating a doctor. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but head injuries can often cause confusion, paranoia and even hallucinations," he said. If this gets worse, you might need to be institutionalized for further and ongoing evaluation."
I didn't exactly need to read between the lines, to understand the implied threat. Needless to say, I didn't eat that evenings' meal or breakfast the following morning. I only pretended to take the meds.
Jackie came in dressed to the nines, looking and acting bright and chipper - like a Stepford wife. I'd really thought she couldn't disgust me any further, but I was mistaken. She brought me some new clothing: a new pair of jeans, and a button down casual shirt. I asked her what was wrong with all of the clothes I already owned, and she just shrugged. She could have pointed out that all of my clothes were now a bit too big for me, and at least she'd have been correct. As it was, she just bought more clothes in the same size as all the others, and they just hung from my now smaller frame.
The first part of our drive was tense. Jackie did almost all the talking, telling me how happy her family was that I was recovering and would be fine. She talked about a few of my work mates who'd sent cards or stopped at the house. But she ran out of steam pretty quickly, and realized that I wasn't going to participate in conversation. The car became quiet then, for a good half hour - until we reached Los Banos. Off to my right, I saw a run-down mall, and I excitedly asked Jackie to pull off.
She asked a million questions, as she walked into the mall with me, and most of them went unanswered. I steered us towards as a Ross' Dress For Less.
"What are you doing, Pete?" she asked in an irritated tone.
"Getting some new clothes," I answered flatly.
"What? Why?" Her irritation turned to worry. "Those are new," she declared, waving her hand from my head to foot.
"They're itchy," was my only reply.
I found a polo shirt and a pair of pants that fit me, but didn't in any way match the shirt. I put them on in the dressing room, and dumped the clothes Jackie had brought me in a bin just outside the entrance to the changing room. My wife was aghast.
The irritation returned as we got to the car.
"Pete," she started, "what's going on? What's wrong with you? I don't understand why you did that. I think you should take one of your pills."
"What pills?" I asked.
"The ones Dr. Barnes prescribed, of course."
I should have thrown them out the window, but I thought that would be too dramatic. I just sat back in my seat and stared ahead. Jackie had started the car, but left it in Park. She reached for my face, and tried to turn it towards hers.
"Pete," she asked pleadingly, "what is it? What's going on in there?" She tapped my temple lightly.
I turned to face her, then, and gave her what I intended to be an impetuous glare that also said really?
Jackie might have lost her mind out of lust for Todd and Jeff that night back in March, but she wasn't a stupid woman in general. Even in her alcohol and lust-fueled haze, she had to have known she'd taken a huge risk that night at the camp. She definitely knew by the look on my face that, whatever was going on now, the risk was immensely greater. I could see in her eyes, her brain working overtime to figure out what to say next - a parachute out of the conversation. I decided to help her out.
"I'm suddenly very tired," I told her, adding a fake yawn. "We'll have to have this conversation later." I turned to look out the passenger window and closed my eyes. It gave me the luxury of more time to think, but I knew that it afforded her the same.
An hour and a half later, we were entering our old home. It didn't feel the same or hold any meaning to me, except as a dwelling I half-owned. I walked down the hall to ensure that Jackie had made the proper sleeping arrangements.
I sat down on the bed - more like plopped - and tried to decide how I was going to play out the rest of the day. I was relieved to no longer be trapped in a car with my wife. In fact, I felt good enough to leave the house for a while if things got out of hand.
When I heard something, I looked up, and there was Jackie in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, watching me expectantly.
"I know you're still upset with me, Pete," she said, passively, "and I know we need to talk about everything... you know, from before the accident. I didn't... don't want to overwhelm you on your first day back, but I want you to know I love you very much. I'm hoping that after we do talk, you won't shut me out too long. I've missed you tremendously, and I want you - us - back to the way we were."
I'd steadied myself on the ride home, but I was overcome with all the emotions then, being in our old house together, and couldn't hold back, just like when I'd had to take that potshot at Dalton.
"Why?" I asked sarcastically. "I'd think the way we left it you already had everything you wanted. I'm just a liability now, and in your way. Let's not kid ourselves. I'm sure someone's been keeping you warm in our bed all these months - a couple of someones, if my guess is right."
"You're wrong, Pete," she said quietly as she crossed the room and sat beside me. "I regret what I did that night - more than you'll ever know. Regardless, you need to know we never slept... we didn't have sex that night, or any night."
I grumbled my disbelief.
"It's true," she insisted. "God, I didn't want to do this today. That night, Alise came barging in, telling us that Amber was sick and passed out drunk, and that you'd left on foot in the dark. Nothing happened. I got dr... we went out with Jeff to find you, and Alise stayed with Amber in her cabin. We looked everywhere we could think to look. We followed the trails with flashlights and called out for you. When we finally gave up for the night, we went back to the main cabin. I lost it, and Alise stayed up with me for quite a while trying to comfort me. I slept on the sofa.
"In the morning, you weren't back, so I started thinking the worst. Jeff and Todd went out again trying to find you, and finally, when they came back empty-handed, we all decided to go to a phone and call for help."
"Ten thirty-four" I said coldly. "And you were about to say 'got dressed' so that means you were about to have sex with him. If Todd's wife wouldn't have been so worried about my wellbeing, you and lover boy would have been fucking the night away while I lay fighting for my life in a ravine."
"Why did you say that number?" she asked, ignoring my accusation.
"It's a time, not a number," I replied. "It's the time when authorities were notified about my disappearance. So, I don't necessarily buy your sob story."
"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, her face all screwed up. "Have you somehow been watching old news clips these past few days in the hospital?"
"No, Jackie," I responded, suddenly wishing that I, too, had delayed the confrontation further. "I watched them the first time I recovered from my injuries. But you already know that. Whatever you're covering up will come out eventually. You must know by now that I don't really believe I just woke up a few days ago, or that the last few months were some sort of dream. If you're telling the truth about that night, then all I can say is that at least one of us remained faithful to our vows."
Jackie gasped and ran out of the room. I'd confirmed to her my relationship with Ann had been more than as a doctor-patient. I had no idea why it was a big deal to her. She'd unilaterally given us both permission to cheat, but maybe she wasn't keen on my taking it outside the group. Still, she was hiding something. That something was big, whatever it was. Maybe she thought if we could focus on our pre-accident marital issues, it would just go away. That was not going to happen. Regardless, I'd overplayed my hand again. I had no allies and no plans. All I could think to do was spy on Jackie for the next few days, and I knew that that was going to be extremely difficult. Between the two of us, it was far easier for her to get away from me to have a private conversation.
I left her alone for the rest of the day. After getting settled, I grabbed my laptop to get reacquainted with what had been happening in my absence, and to check our finances. My trust in Jackie had evaporated long before my struggle with Dalton at that Lee Vining, California gas mart.
Almost immediately, I realized that the laptop wasn't mine. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure I'd think it was, though. All of my files were meticulously set up exactly as I had left them. Even some embedded files that I'd hidden in sub-folders were there. The computer was the same make and model. Had it not been for the missing scuff mark on the back left corner, where I'd once dropped it, I'd have never noticed. I worried seriously about my own safety then. I was all but certain at that point that 'Dalton' was another nameless guy in a black suit.
The three-day weekend that followed was the longest and tensest of my life. Jackie moped around on Friday, seemingly unable to determine a course of action. Saturday and Sunday set the tone for our short-term future as we hobbled around each other like roommates.
I was very happy to return to work that Monday. The 'welcome back' was heartfelt and a little overwhelming for me. Seeing several of my work mates with tears in their eyes made me feel normal, despite how unprecedented it was. Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last long. There was a new guy on our team, and not someone who'd replaced me. Steve was his name, and I instantly got the sense that he was there to watch me. I ignored his feeble attempts to befriend me, and kept my head on a swivel around him. For all I knew, he was just a friendly new guy - but that was the problem. I knew I didn't know enough.
Two of my friends in hardware were more than curious when I asked them to throw me together a new laptop, but considering I'd come back from the dead, they obliged. A few days later, I had a rebuild, and it worked better and faster than the new one I had at home. In my office, I spent some time downloading a few security software programs. I paid for them with a loan I'd taken against my 401K. Cashing out the measly twenty-six thousand and change would have taken a while, but a fifty percent loan was immediate. I put the money in a new account at a different bank.
Jackie made a wonderful meal my first night home from work. She wanted to celebrate. I enjoyed the food and the effort, and I complimented her. Beyond that, we said very little to each other. That set the tone for the next few weeks. She clearly wasn't planning on 'talking' anymore. I didn't know if it had to do with what I'd alluded to with Ann, or if it was some sort of strategy on her part. It was as if she was hoping I'd just either forget everything, or get over it, or both. If she knew I wasn't going to accept the alternative past they'd tried to spoon-feed me, then she surely knew I wouldn't warm up to her either.
My first two visits to the neurologist were pleasantly normal. I suspected nothing less, having already recovered from a near death experience, but as far I was concerned, the doctor was in on everything. I noticed Jackie spent some time speaking with him after I was finished. Based on what I thought was happening, that didn't surprise me either.
The silence in our home became worse over the following two weeks. Silence became uneasiness, and we often retreated to our respective corners without ever taking a swing. The extra time in my room with the door closed, allowed me to formulate a plan of action. My top priority was to gain as much intel as possible about Ann, and everyone else involved, and then going through the motions of assimilating back into my former life. I didn't want to risk causing Ann any more trouble than I suspected she was already in.
After the second week, Jackie became even more frustrated and changed her tack. It was fascinating and unsettling to watch the woman I married strutting around the house in sexy outfits, offering to get me this or that, doing her best approximation of a sultry voice. My treating her like it was a normal Sunday morning, created even more animosity. After a burst of effort, everything in our once-warm home went cold.
On a Tuesday, three weeks after my return home, Jackie came in after work with some Chinese take-out. As we were finishing dinner she said the first words since we'd sat down.
"I've invited our friends over Friday night," she told me nonchalantly. "Maybe it will help, and we... I need..."
"Nope," I interrupted, "not happening."
"But, Pete," she pleaded, "we need some company - some companionship, Pete. This cold shoulder thing... it's driving me crazy. I think it will help to socialize a bit, until we can get back on track."
The idea that she really believed we'd ever 'get back on track,' infuriated me to my core. Mostly, I was angry with myself for having missed so much about my wife - the many character flaws that were suddenly as glaring as harsh sunlight reflecting off fresh snow. I had to concede I'd missed a few of my own too.
"Jackie," I replied sullenly, "what would ever make you think I'd want anything to do with those people? Talk about a bunch of backstabbers. I never would have suspected they'd go over to the dark side, and steal my wife away with them."
"What are you even talking about?" she asked incredulously. "They're still your friends... and my friends. They were there for me when we thought you were... and then all during your recovery. They care about us... about you. How can you call them that?"
"I'm talking about before my accident, Jackie," I said sadly, but I realized there wasn't any point continuing that conversation. It was like talking to a wall. "Just have them over. I don't care." With that I walked away, and she didn't say anything to try to stop me.
Friday found me sitting in a bar I'd never set foot in before, drinking a Guinness, against doctors' orders. I'd kept my phone off, so Jackie and the rat-bastards wouldn't be able to bother me.
Jackie looked as angry as I'd ever seen her when I walked in at eleven-thirty.
"Okay," she said in a scarily measured and determined voice. "You want the truth. The truth is... I made a horrible mistake thinking you'd go along with what I proposed at the cabin. The truth is, I... we all made a critical mistake, and it led to your accident. The truth is, I can't take any of it back, and I have no idea how to fix it." Halfway through the last sentence, she somehow successfully stifled a deep, guttural sob.
"The truth is," she continued, "I thought you would die before I could ever apologize."
It all sounded good, but I wasn't in the mood for more bullshit. "The truth is," I interrupted, "you imposed, not proposed. You turned your back on me, after I said no, so you could go fuck him. But you know what's worse than the 'sex' in my face - if worse is even possible? It's the fact that you planned all this with those bastards behind my back. You conspired with them, probably for weeks. You conspired with them against the one you supposedly love. They're horrible and insufferable, but you're worse."
"But they're not!" she replied, almost losing her steady demeanor. "Yes, Todd wanted to have sex with me. Alise was sitting right next to him when he admitted it. That was the same day that they told me about the four of them messing around. Amber said she'd always had the hots for you. It was stupid for me to think we could back you into a corner.
"But," she continued, "After we found you, while they had you in an induced coma because of the swelling, I started blaming them. I lashed out at them - mostly Todd - and said things; horrible things that I can't take back. But you know what? They never wavered. They stuck by me when I thought you'd die. They didn't judge me, because they felt just as bad as I did."
"Yeah, great friends," I snorted. "Couldn't wait to cuckold me right to my face. You know what though? For the sake of conversation - if you'd only talked to me about it, I might have gone along - just once, mind you, to see how it went. We're young, and maybe we could have experimented. . But once they floated their little offer that thought never even fucking occurred to you. I'm guessing you've all been cuckolding me for the last four months, too. It's impossible for me to listen to you go on and on about how sad and lonely and guilty you felt without immediately thinking about how you'd use all those things to selfishly justify yourself. You didn't even need that much of an excuse the first time."
"And I'm sorry," she answered, her voice cracking as the façade began to break. "Pete, I can't take that back. You know I'm agnostic, but when you were out, I prayed. I prayed that if you could live, I'd spend every day making up for what I did. That I'd show you how much I love you, and I'd earn your trust again." It wasn't lost on me that she ignored the last part of my accusation.
After a pause and a breath, she dropped the 'but' - you know, that word the separates the bullshit from the real shit. "But this.... this is like my own private hell. You wake up after three months, but you've been having these dreams. Then I find out that you think the dreams really happened. I thought, 'okay, how bad could that be?' But you're in love with this dream - a woman who saved you, and was with you for what? Two-and-a-half hours?
"You come home and it's the same. God, you're paranoid, you're hiding in the spare room, you won't talk to me. God, heh. It's like He's played a shitty joke on me. 'Here's your husband back, good luck.' I don't know what to do, and I can't take it anymore. Our friends thought they could help me - help us both - tonight. I was... I am at the end of my rope."
Jackie broke down crying. I almost wanted to believe her - almost. She came towards me, and since I didn't back away or stop her, she closed the remainder of the distance quickly and embraced me. I wasn't totally heartless; she was still my wife, and the love I felt for her wasn't something that could be shut off. I hugged her back, and we slowly swayed in place for at least a full minute.
Finally, she lifted her sad, tiny face to look into mine. "Could you stay with me tonight?" she pleaded. "In our bed. I promise, I just want you near me. I won't try anything, or do anything, unless you start it."
I agreed, although without any enthusiasm. Jackie cuddled up to me, even in her sleep, like she was losing something precious to her. I supposed she wasn't as stupid as she appeared. In the morning, I awoke to her staring at me, her head propped up on her arm. I grumbled a 'good morning.'
"How do I get my husband back?" she asked softly, pleadingly. "Tell me, and I'll do it. I'll do anything."
I thought about that for a few moments. "You could simply tell the truth."
She looked up at me, her eyes masked in disbelief. I turned and left her standing there.
Chapter 4
As June faded into July, I hadn't made any progress in locating Ann. I couldn't find anything online about the little girl in Chicago. I'd only found one article from when Ann had first joined the Medical Center team, which included a photo of her and her husband: Ralph. He was tall, tanned and good-looking, and his actual name was Raphael Moreno; he was a true-blood Spaniard. It struck me that if Ann could be physically attracted to someone like Raphael, there wasn't much chance she'd feel the same about me, or vice versa. Either we simply had a whirlwind romance, or she may not have ever been that attached to him.
I could find nothing about Ann's parents, either. All searches for anyone named Pierce, in or near northern Idaho fell short of connecting a daughter named Ann, Anna, Anne or Annabelle. It depressed me. I'd begun to wonder if maybe I was a little crazy. I was certainly obsessed, and it started to bother me enough that I decided to take a step back. I also became overly exhausted several days per week.
"I find myself dozing off hard," I mentioned to my family doctor at my next visit. "It's like I have this urgent need to sleep - like I can't stay awake. Is that normal with my type of injuries?"
"It depends," he responded, "but we should probably draw some blood to find out what's going on. Since we have an onsite lab, let's do that now, and you can either wait on the results, or I can call you as soon as they're back."
I wasn't prepared for what my doctor told me later that day.
"Peter," he began, "we found the source of your issue. I need you to cut way back on the medications you were prescribed in Visalia. The high levels of tryptophan and diphenhydramine are interacting with each other in a negative way. I can also prescribe you lesser doses of both. Tryptophan is generally used for calming, and as an anti-anxiety medication, but in your case, it's likely doubling down with the sleeping pills, because the body turns it to serotonin in the brain, causing your need to sleep."
"Alright," I recovered quickly, as stunned as I was. "I'll cut back or stop taking them unless needed," I lied. The only meds I was taking were the pills prescribed by that doctor at the Visalia hospital, and that was only sporadically. They were supposed to be pain meds, not sleeping pills.
That night, using my phone's calendar, I started to see if I could recognize any sort of pattern involving my tiredness. That didn't take long. It was Tuesdays and Fridays. There were other days that I'd found myself fatigued at work, or when I'd gotten home, but the recent nights I'd just gone to my room early and almost passed out, had definitely been Tuesdays and Fridays. I could barely wait to head home and investigate the prescription bottle, and pills inside it.
I wondered if I'd really been prescribed the correct meds at the hospital. When I looked at the vial, it said pain medication. I searched online for 'sleeping pill' images, and none I could find looked like the ones in the vile. I looked up the exact medicine on the label and it matched the pills in the container. The other drug in my system, occurred naturally in turkey and other foods, but I wasn't engaging in Thanksgiving dinner ever Tuesday and Friday.
So my only conclusion was that my wife was poisoning me, or at least trying to make me unconscious. but I couldn't fathom why she'd do that. Even considering the possibility made me start to think of myself as paranoid. She'd be contrite, and constantly trying to get us past all that had happened. Still, the fact remained that I was suffering from exhaustion, and a medical doctor had just told me it was because of drugs in my system.
That revelation forced my hand. I'd already purchased security software for uploading footage to my new laptop. All that remained was to go to an electronics store and purchase the hardware: one small camera that I could place on a bookshelf in our living room. I didn't need to spy on Jackie, just confirm what I really hoped wasn't true.
Tuesday, I sat watching a baseball game in the living room, right after finishing two helpings of Jackie's lasagna. She'd always been a good cook. My eyes became heavy, and I held out as long as I could, but finally told Jackie that I was overly tired and was going to bed. Many nights, Jackie would sit with me and watch TV, but I also discovered that on those two nights, she was always busying herself in some other part of the house. I slept soundly, confident that I would have the proof I needed the next day - one way or the other.
At work, the next morning, I uploaded the file from the security cam. I saw Jackie appear in the living room, dressed in sweat pants and a loose fitting top. She wore make-up, which seemed strange. Maybe an hour after I went to bed Jackie answered our front door, and there stood Alise. Jackie quickly went out the door with her, and returned around twelve-thirty in the morning.
That was interesting, but there was nothing telling, nor any 'there' there, in terms of proof. Of course, I made the obvious conclusion, but I said nothing to Jackie. I didn't have a chance to view the recording from Friday night until Saturday afternoon, when I took my laptop to my favorite coffee internet café. Because of what the footage showed, I had to shut the lid early on.
Similar to what I'd seen in Tuesday's footage, about an hour after I went to bed on Friday night, Jackie opened the door to both Alise and Todd. She quickly poured them a glass of wine, and sat chatting for about thirty minutes. Then Jackie left the room, presumably to check in on me. While she was gone, Alise started kissing her husband on our sofa, unbuttoning most of his shirt while they were lip-locked. When Jackie returned, she sat on the other side of Todd, and started rubbing his bare chest. Soon, both ladies hands were roaming, and found his crotch. Todd leaned back, his arms across the back of the sofa, striking an eerily-similar pose to what I saw in the hot tub that fateful night.
Within minutes, Todd's cock was out, and Alise started kissing and licking it. I found myself hoping that Jackie had closed our front drapes before their arrival. The large picture window was on the same wall as the camera, but anyone walking by would have certainly been treated to a show. Jackie slid her sweat pants off, and she was naked under them. My wife climbed up onto the sofa and squatted over Todd's mouth. I watched for a minute or so longer - until her cries of passion became too loud for a public space. My first thought had been to watch the rest later, but the truth was, that I didn't really care if they fucked or not. We were done - and just when my fruitless search for Ann had started me thinking about giving my wife another chance.
Over the next four weeks, I made some plans. I was still young, and I'd survived a near fatal accident. There are very few things that can provide perspective like that. I had a decent job, and although I wasn't in love with it, the pay was plenty for me to move on and start over. Jackie could even have the house, if she could afford it.
I'd been staying away more often, especially on Tuesday and Friday, just to screw with them. At least, that's what I told myself. The real reason was because they were randomly and callously drugging my food, and none of them were pharmacists. I'd taken to eating dinner out those nights, and tried to stay away from the house as often as I could. During the month of August, I honestly expected Jackie to have me served with divorce papers, as little as we saw of each other. Conversely, she seemed to be getting her needs met, and that seemed to be all that really mattered to her. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised that she was fine with the insidious status quo she'd created.
My nights, just before drifting off to sleep, were still overflowing with thoughts of Ann: Where was she now? Did she miss me? Was she better off without me?
I still needed to find some way of getting even with Todd, Alise, and my soon-to-be-former wife. It was probably petty, however, the idea of them getting off Scott-free after what had happened to me, not to mention what they were still doing, wasn't going to work for me.
When I received an email in late August that threw me for a total loop, I finally decided to shit or get off the pot. It was from none other than Raphael Moreno. To say it was cryptic would be an understatement. It only told me to go to a particular address, ask for Ben, and purchase what he had for me. The email ended with, "She misses you."
Immediately, my quest to find Ann was back on. Even the payback my former friends and wife were owed took a back seat.
The address turned out to be an independently-owned electronics store in San Jose. Ben asked my name and then took me to the register, where he gave me a bag with a burner phone. He helped me activate it, and less than ten minutes later a previously-sent text message came in.
The message told me to go to Houge Park, park on the southeast end of the lot, and wait near basketball court number one. It also provided a date and time. The date was two days later, Saturday, so I made plans to take Friday afternoon off.
I drove around the exterior of the park on the main and side streets, and I noticed there was parking on both sides of the courts. Parking on the other side, I could discreetly observe Court One from a distance, for whoever wanted to meet me, without being seen. On Saturday morning, I rented a vehicle in our neighborhood and drove over to Houge Park. Parking opposite where I'd been instructed, I sat for nearly thirty minutes past the time given in the text. Finally, just as I was about to leave, a man approached court one.
It was Dalton.
I tried to follow Dalton, but being on the other side I'd had to pull out on a different street. By the time I got around to where he was, there was no sign of him.
My focus returned to revenge. Dalton had tried to impersonate Ann's former husband, all while he pretended to actually be her husband at the hospital. I was gaining more questions and no real answers, but given what I'd been planning, though, I might get the chance to kill two birds with one stone.
I started coming home more often - no more Tuesdays or Fridays out. I told Jackie that I was sorry for all the grief I'd caused her, and asked - not told - her if we might see if there was anything left to salvage. She seemed delighted. - emphasis on 'seemed.' I no longer trusted anything she said or did - nor my ability to draw out the truth. That was what hidden cameras were for.
I even had sex with her once. I might as well join the 'farewell sex' club, was how I justified it. It wasn't any better or worse than some college one-night-stand. I also started watching the security footage, but with a new focus on those two days. But now, I watched her preparation of our evening meal, but nothing after I went to bed.
The camera pointed across the living room, towards the kitchen. For two weeks, it seemed she didn't tamper with my food at all, and since I was free of the drugs, I would have found out the hard way if she had.
In week three - early September - there was Jackie, grinding something up and adding it to my pot pie before throwing it in the oven. I rewound the recording and discovered her taking it from a vial in our towel drawer. That was a Tuesday, and I played along, although I excused myself twice to use the restroom during dinner, citing a nasty lunch earlier in the day. I didn't want her killing me due to overdose.
I made plans for Friday. Her guard was sufficiently down. I knew she'd be selfish, or Todd would, and she'd simply go along like she'd been doing the entire time. I fleetingly wondered if she'd been fucking Todd ever since our college roommate days. They'd certainly had opportunity.
I called her an hour after arriving at work and asked her if she thought it was a good idea to invite Todd and Alsie over for dinner. She loved the idea, and I made some noise, asking if it might not be too short of notice. She quickly dismissed that concern and an hour later texted me that they would be there. I told her not to cook. Alise was a big fan of Panda, so I told her I'd take care of dinner so no one would have to clean up.
She texted me their orders, and, after paying at the drive-through, I sat in the parking lot adding crushed-up tryptophan and sleeping pills to all but my order. I didn't need them to sleep all night, just to doze off for a while. To Todd's meal I added half of a 'roofie' that I'd bought from a guy at work. He was a bigger guy than me, and I didn't want my plan to backfire.
With a few bottles of good wine, it was lights out for my targets at around nine-o'clock. Todd lasted the longest. I could see he was starting to connect the dots even as he kept dozing off right in the middle of our conversation. Sadly, he realized too late that he'd placed himself at my mercy.
Jackie and Alise were awakened by the smelling salts I'd purchased a few days before. They were bound by nylon ropes - back-to-back - to two kitchen chairs I moved into the living room. Their wrists were tied together, but I secured their ankles independently to the chairs. Todd had his own special chair, placed in the middle of the room, where the ladies could both see him.
Jackie started right in on me, asking what I thought I was doing, and demanding I untie her immediately. Alise looked terrified. Todd was a little difficult to bring around; I wryly thought to myself that it had been awfully irresponsible of me to guess at the cocktail and dosages without consulting anybody else. Who would do such a thing? The salts, combined with cold water and a few hard slaps to the face, did the trick. Seeing me manhandle Todd finally shut my wife up.
"Okay, you fuckers," I announced, "you're going to answer all my questions truthfully. You're not going to scream, and I better not catch any of you in a lie." I pulled my S&W 9mm Luger out from behind me as I said that. Jackie knew I owned the gun, but had never seen me handle it.
"Where is Ann, and why have you all been lying to me about my accident?" I asked first.
"Fucking hell, here we go a..." Todd snarled, beating Jackie to it. I stomped down hard on his bare foot with my heavy hiking boot, likely dislocating a toe or two. The popping noise meant I'd maybe even broken something. Until then, he probably hadn't noticed that I'd removed his shoes and socks.
"Leave him alone!" Alise screamed. It was both humorous and ironic that at least somebody cared about her man. Jackie was only begging me to take it out on her, and not our friends; so much for her loyalties.
"What did I just say about lying to me?" I asked, putting the barrel of the sidearm to the bridge of his nose. "Once more, and I can't guarantee any of you will see tomorrow.
"Let's start again," I generously offered. "Who's Dalton, and how is he involved in all this?" That one threw them off. I could see the wheels turning, trying to figure out how much I actually knew, and what they could get away with. They also looked extremely fearful.
"You've all my life is hell." I screamed. "I've lost everything that means anything to me," I said looking at each of them for a moment. "You've even tried to steal my memories. Rock bottom is a final destination, so I'm desperate - pissed and desperate." I glared at Todd. "The truth will truly set you free."
"He's the person - the agent - who was assigned to investigate your accident," Jackie answered. At least she'd given up trying to spin him as Ann's husband. However, she was still lying by omission.
"Bullshit," I spat, crushing Todd's other foot.
"Okay, OKAY!" Jackie wailed as Todd grunted, trying to contain a scream. "He's with the FBI!" She stopped suddenly, really trying to decide how much to give away. "Turns out, your little girlfriend isn't quite who you think she is. He was already investigating her when you had your accident. He put two and two together. He started snooping around her place."
"Why all the damn deception then?" I yelled at her. "I'd already seen him at the cabin, and in the gas station restroom. That fucker knocked me out. Who else was in on this? Who knew at the hospital in Visalia?"
I was rapid-firing questions, and no one seemed to want to answer. I was getting tired of dealing with them. It dawned on me that having my gun out for effect wasn't such a good idea. It was empty, but the loaded clip was just sitting on my bed in the other room.
Todd obviously wasn't keen on sustaining more injuries, so he decided to become the spokesman. His expression very quickly showed he regretted that decision.
"She's got big troubles, Pete," Todd began. "Something to do with her parents, and then her moving out there on the mountain. We were told to come to Rivers' - that's Dalton's last name - office so he could explain what he'd learned. They needed her, but they needed you out of the way. Jackie was both relieved and heartbroken to learn that you were alive, but had been living with this random woman and had never tried to reach out. That was a shitty thing to do, by the way, regardless of how things were left."
"Fuck you, you prick," I told him. "You're the reason for that. Fucking another man's wife - your so-called friend - and for what? Some superiority trip or have you been fucking her since way back? Then she went along with it. You'd be fucking her right now - if I hadn't discovered she'd been drugging me."
I left that loom for a minute. Alise looked like she might pass out. Jackie had a deer-in-the-headlights expression, knowing the gig was up.
"So the plan to 'get me out of the way,'" I continued prodding, "was what - to kill me? Is that what he was trying to do in that gas station?"
"No." Jackie said defensively. "The plan was to guilt you into coming home. If that didn't work, they were going to arrest her, and threaten you with the same. He told us what she did with you was way beyond a normal 'good Samaritan.' He said you may or may not be culpable but that he could make you think you were in trouble too, but then he'd convince you to come home and he'd let it slide.
"The gas station was truly an accident," my former wife explained. "But it also offered an opportunity, according to Agent Rivers. In a conference room at the hospital, he finally got it out of us why you'd wandered off in the middle of the night and why you might not want to go home. He set up the hospital sham. Told us what to say. Made Ann go along with it, in return for her possible release. I'm sure there was more to it, but she did it."
"Sorry, Jackie," I yelled, "sounds like a Hollywood script to me. Do better."
"It's true!" she cried out. "They told us we all had to play our part. All except Amber, who was still recovering from her breakdown and some sort of acute anxiety. Make you believe you had just woken up from the original accident. If we couldn't convince you, they told me I had to do whatever it took to get you back in the fold, including threatening divorce. They even promised some college fund for our first-born child.
"What really happened to Amber?" I asked a little more calmly. "Why the mental breakdown, so kind of remorse?"
"No." Jackie replied as sadly as I'd ever heard her speak. "She liked you. Her parents were so upset, they verbally abused her about what happened to you. They didn't know why you wandered off, or what we'd all planned. But she knew. She liked you - a lot - and thought she was at least partially responsible for killing you."
"When Amber broke down," she continued, clearly trying to cleanse her conscience, "I spent as much time with her as her doctors allowed. She believed us all to be horrible. She said we all caused you to commit suicide. When I returned to see her, after you were found, she gave me a dire warning. She said the feds were only trying to get your story out of the press or they would have made a bigger deal of it. She didn't think they were going to give us any money. They just wanted you home, and then if we eventually split, and it came back around, they'd just put a different spin on things. Make me look like a slut, and you as a jilted loser with a thinking problem.
"The more I thought about what Amber said," she said with her voice getting stronger. "The more I was convinced she was right. You and I were finished. The rest was all about the government and your doctor friend. We were all collateral damage."
"And this shit?" I snorted. "Then why pretend you want us back to normal so bad if you're still planning on going behind my back? Why not just move on if you concluded we were done?"
"I don't know," Jackie said softly. "I was angry you left that night and spoiled our fun. Angry the next morning, thinking you'd just run off in a little snit, and left me. Angry you were missing. Angrier still when they announced you'd probably died, and strangely, that anger was still directed at you. I was angry when I learned you were shacking up with your doctor friend, and even angrier that you were coming home, and I'd have to play nursemaid and keep pretending that I was the loving wife."
"Wow!" I cynically laughed, "you really are a shitty partner. Did I ever do anything in our relationship that made you happy?"
"Yeah, plenty," she said with a sigh, and sitting a straighter in the chair. But the truth is I've figured out during this ordeal that I'm not ready to be married. I realize now, I wasn't way back then, either. Your disappearance forced me to take a hard look in the mirror. Even the... concept of it doesn't suit me. Once I found out about our friends swapping, just the thought of it made me yearn for freedom. Not from you, necessarily, just from those damned vows. If you'd have gone along we could have had some fun, until we'd both decided to move on. Obviously, that didn't happen so once you were completely well, I was going for a divorce. You and I want different things from life, Pete."
I just snorted in her direction and shook my head. What an incredible mistake I'd made.
"This," she said, motioning with her chin towards her friends, "is because I need it, and because you weren't going to ever come back to our bed. I think, subconsciously, Amber ended up paired with you, because the two of you are most alike. I think, deep down, I thought if you and she hit it off, then it might go easier on you when we split. Jeff is Jeff. He just left after her breakdown, moved back east and filed for divorce. I'm sorry my greed and selfishness caused everyone so many problems."
"Great," I replied bitterly. "Except you aren't. Not really. Where is she? Where's Ann? Why did Dalton send me a fake email and try to get me to meet him?"
"I... we don't know," Jackie answered, looking at the others. "He's only contacted me once to see how things were improving, and that was weeks ago. I was surprised, but Agent Rivers did show me compassion, whereas the other agents were just mean and threatening."
"Okay then, tell me where his office is," I said, losing steam. "Where did you meet him?"
Jackie told me where to find his card in her purse. I told her I already had everything from the house I wanted and she could do with it whatever she chose. I explained what money I'd taken from our joint accounts. She didn't argue about any of it. I walked over to Todd and leaned in close to his face.
"You, motherfucker," I spat with venom, "I better not ever see you again. You want to get even, approach me from behind, and do your thing. But I strongly advise against it. I'm gonna hold on to my rage, and you're lucky I didn't do any of the things tonight that I'd planned to do."
Todd had enough sense not to respond. I walked back to my wife and kissed her forehead.
"Once I'm settled, you'll get some papers." I spoke to her calmly now. I was done. "Don't bother me on my cell unless it's an emergency. I don't want to hear anything from you, period. You deserve whatever life throws at you, as far as I'm concerned. You try to cause me trouble, and I'll make you look like a fool on social media and with your family. Consider yourself lucky that my parents taught me not to hit a woman, or you'd be beaten and bloodied on our floor by now."
To Alise, I said nothing. I grabbed my backpack, and my gun case, holster and clip from my room. When I came back out, the three were looking haggard and defeated. I went to the fridge and grabbed a few beers. Then I loosened the nylon ropes securing Alise' hands. As I walked past my former wife, I said, "I recommend not getting involved with any guys for a while, you fucking heartbreaker. Now I'm going to show you my back, although I doubt it will have the same impact."
I had already signed one of those online leases for a new place to live. One of my coworkers needed a roommate to cover expenses at his overpriced condo, and I needed a roof and some privacy. He'd posted about it to the bulletin board at work, so there would be a trail. That didn't matter to me. It'd be a dead end.
Tracking Dalton Rivers down wasn't much of a chore. I drove to San Francisco and sat parked across the street from the FBI field office, in the parking lot of an automotive parts manufacturing plant. The first day I saw his car, and took his license plate - government-issue, of course.
On the third day, I followed him at some distance. He lived in a swanky condo across the Golden Gate Bridge in Sausalito. I took the better part of another week off work, claiming some problems with headaches and blurred vision. There was a parking structure across the main drag, which gave me an unobscured view of his enclosed garage. I made notes of all his movements.
He was definitely a man of habit, but it came across as discipline, not as autopilot. He was, I suspected, probably a very good agent. I never saw anyone else coming or going, so I guessed he lived alone. Dalton always opened the garage from inside his vehicle - except on Wednesday. That was trash collection day, and he had four different colored bins to place out front. That was my in. What I was planning to do was silly. It was dangerous and asinine. It was also a federal offense, and came with a hefty prison sentence. I checked. I also didn't care. I had to find her.
The following Monday, I took a leave of absence, citing personal and medical problems. My 401K, which was now down to about nineteen, I left, but took a second loan down to the max of fifty percent value. I took that and what I'd taken from my and Jackie's checking and savings, and moved it into an Alaskan credit union online. I kept three grand in cash, and told them I'd later set up an ATM card, when I knew my new address. It wouldn't last long - maybe half of a year. I'd prepaid my roommate, and told him I'd be back at some point. I wasn't sure if that was true, but I did expect to return if I couldn't find my doctor Angel.
There were two backpacks, and then two suitcases in the trunk with all my clothes. That was my life. I took my reconfigured laptop, plus the new one that Jackie - and, I presumed, Agent Rivers - had given me, but only after I removed all of the tracking software they'd laden it with.
Dalton, as I'd previously observed, was out of his garage, dragging a trash receptacle at seven-fifteen in the morning. I simply came around the corner unit and stepped quickly into the early morning shadows on the driver's side of his car. He was a lot better than I'd given him credit for. As he stepped in to grab the third can, he turned slowly towards where I was ducking down and stopped, as if on instinct alone.
I stood, knowing he'd had a sense someone was with him in the room, and made sure he saw my weapon.
"Put that away, before somebody gets hurt," he chuckled. " I've been expecting you."
"Where is she?" I commanded. "Why did you send me that email?"
Dalton put his hands up, but he was mocking me. "Come on inside," he said, motioning towards the door. "We've got plenty to discuss. But don't point that at me. That would be unwise."
He carefully side-stepped me, and then he opened the door and purposefully walked in first. I followed, still very apprehensive, but also curious. Things weren't going to plan, but he'd dangled the right bait. Rivers offered me a seat in his kitchen, and I took up a chair farthest from where he stood. Then he offered me some coffee.
"I'm sorry about what happened at Tioga Gas Mart," he said sincerely. "That wasn't intended, and it certainly threw a damned monkey wrench into the situation."
I didn't answer; rather, I just stared at him.
"Where. Is. She?" I asked with emphasis.
"I'll get to that, son," he replied, turning his back on me and pouring two cups of coffee, making sure I could see his hands. "Cream and sugar?"
I nodded. He sat down and slid the cup across the table. He was certainly much calmer than me.
"Didn't you ever wonder why Ann didn't report your accident?" he asked.
"Of course," I answered, trying not to let my agitation get the better of me. "I thought of almost nothing else those first few days, after I woke up. You're going to tell me, are you? I hope for your sake it's the truth. Obviously, I've already crossed a line, and I'm a desperate man with little to lose."
"Oh, I doubt that," he said, laughing at me. "What I think is that you're a man who's infatuated - maybe even in love - and, if truly desperate, then mostly desperate to prove he hasn't lost his mind. You're here, so I can tell you unequivocally that, you can check that one off your list."
"Why did you want to meet me?" I tried to maintain the upper hand, but I knew I was failing. He knew it too. He was the bigger bear.
"I wanted to set some things straight," he pronounced. "We know every single thing about Dr. Ann Pierce, and likewise, we know everything about Raphael Moreno. We pinged and captured an IP address within a few miles of his residence outside of Barcelona, and I pretended to be him. Would you have even shown up, if you'd known it was me that wanted to meet instead of Ann's ex-husband?"
I shook my head. Agent Rivers motioned slightly with his head towards my gun. As he did so, he slowly removed his own from its holster with just his thumb and forefinger, placing it on the table. I reluctantly set mine down and slid it towards the center. I'd never released the safety.
"Thought not," he confirmed. "Peter, I've been with the FBI for almost twenty years. In some jobs, that's not exactly a long time, but believe me, in the agency it's almost too long. I've been in semi-retirement for four years. That's the governments' way of sun-setting people who work at three-letter agencies. When I was transferred to the Bay Area, I was looking forward to a lot of fly fishing and a six-figure retirement package."
"And that has what to do with Ann?" I asked.
I'm getting there," he said, waving me off. "About four months after Ann Pierce moved to the California mountains, she also joined the California State Militia. Because of her parents' involvement, she was red-flagged as a person of interest."
"Like a terrorist?" I looked at him like he was nuts.
"Not necessarily," he replied, "just as someone who needed to be watched. And I did that periodically, up until your accident. The fact that no one could find a trace of you - alive or dead - got me wondering about her..." He paused, clearly trying to decide how much he was going to share with me.
"Listen Peter, here's the short version: the line between healthy federalism and Confederacy bullshit is pretty blurry, and always has been. It was a cold war by design, and cold wars involve nonstop espionage. Staties watch us, we watch them, and most of the time nothing of any consequence happens. So the theory goes, nothing much of any consequence happens because everybody's watching everybody else, and so we take it seriously.
"Okay," I said, trying to wrap myself around his words. "And you think Ann is one of those people?"
"No, not anymore. I was actually just about to clear her, and then you took your tumble. Suddenly, she's covering her tracks - your tracks, too - like an expert, and doing life-saving surgery with an ice cream scoop. Then she's keeping her patient hidden away from the rest of the world. All of that made her very interesting, and not in a good way. Also, not for nothing, but if things had taken a Misery turn, you'd probably be singing a pretty different tune about my interference."
"She saved my life," I said, getting emotional. "At home, I had a woman I thought was perfect. She turned out to be someone I barely knew. Conniving, selfish, and untrustworthy, is what she turned out to be. Now, I'll be dumping her, and will be forced to give her half my stuff. Somebody should be doing something about people like her, instead of Ann."
"Shit, Peter," Rivers said, chuckling hard. "That's just a part of life. Nobody ever said it was supposed to be fair. Most of us in a first marriage learn things about our partners that we likely never wanted to know. If it's any consolation, Ann had to go through the same with her ex-husband - the infidelity part - almost from day one of their marriage, from what I've read in her file. She'll be a lot more receptive to a man with morals."
"I don't know where to find her," I said dejectedly. "I've exhausted all the places and ways I know to look."
Dalton stood and walked down the hallway into the back of his condo. He returned moments later and placed a handwritten piece of paper on the table in front of me.
"That's where she is," he stated with an emerging smile. "After everything that's happened to you, I would be very disappointed if you didn't take full advantage of this opportunity."
"One last question," I started to ask, as I stood. "Why the theatrics and bravado at the hospital? You had to know I'd never believe that my time with Ann was some made-up dream. And how did you even pull that off, anyway?"
"Sorry, no can do," he said with authority. "I just gave you what you really wanted. The rest, you'll never get an answer to. But I'll leave you with this: we do the same thing to millions of people every single day who own a TV or smart device. The only difference is that you took your tumble and ended up neck-deep for a hot minute. Call it the unofficial policy of the federal government to give bystanders the option of going back to their old lives whenever possible.
Again, all the bystanders whose marriages were mostly fine would sing a different tune about what I pulled - well, the ones who figured any of it out at all. You know, like that guy in that movie: the blue goo that tastes like steak. Most people just want the steak back. You? You want your blue goo to taste like something different from now on, and you're willing to do what it takes to make it happen. Good for you."
"Incidentally," he told my back as I left, "Ann is your freebie. You can tell her about this little meeting. No one else. Not ever. At least we know she can keep a secret."
I left him chuckling at his own wit.
"Oh my god! Peter!" Ann Pierce shouted exuberantly. "What are you doing here?" She looked as much the angel as I'd remembered. Her hair was shorter, but the way it framed her face only added to her beauty. She threw her strong arms around me and squeezed tightly. I took in - no, I absorbed her touch and her smell, savoring how the memory and the reality overlapped. Finally, she lessened her grip, and stared into my face, waiting.
"I needed to see you, Ann," I announced. "I need to know if what we had was real. I think... I am... in love with you." Her smile disappeared as her face fell. My momentary concern gave way to jubilation as she leaned in to kiss me - not passionately, but desperately.
"Oh, Peter," she gasp-whispered as her lips attacked mine. But as suddenly as she'd come into the embrace, she backed away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The expression I saw was forlorn. It was hesitant and doubtful. Something had triggered another emotion.
"You don't feel the same," I told her, not really believing it. "I can see that. I had to know for sure."
She seemed shocked. That was not a good look for the overly-confident Ann Pierce. "I didn't say that." She replied, insistently. "There's just so much you don't know, that you don't understand about me. I'm afraid."
"Tell me then," I said, reaching for her hand.
We sat down in her small living room. She was anxious to get to it, not even offering a beverage.
"I do have feelings for you," she began, "strong feelings. The things you don't know about me - they could cause real problems for us."
"Is this about the militia," I interjected, "or Raphael? Or both?"
"It's not about Ralph," she replied quickly. "How did you know his actual name? Anyway, I told you everything about him honesty, in regard to being my former husband."
"I've been looking for you ever since the hospital," I said. "I knew you were forced to play games with me. Maybe 'coerced' is a better word. You weren't easy to find Ann. If it wasn't for Agent Rivers, I'd probably still be looking."
"I know," she responded, already sounding exhausted, "and that's what we need to talk about. Let's get something to drink and I'll tell you everything. I have to if we're going to have a chance."
First, she wanted to know about Dalton Rivers, so I rehashed my conversation with him. She seemed a little relieved that she wouldn't have to start at the very beginning. Her parents were members of the Texas State Militia, and the State Militia of Idaho.
"There are hours and hours of conversation about that, but you need to know that I'm also a member. I'm worried about that, as far as we're concerned."
"You could give me a little credit, Ann," I said with emphasis. I needed her to understand. "I think we got at least to that point of trust at the cabin. I've risked a lot to be here right now. My life looked pretty damned rosy, and then it all fell to shit in one night. That didn't stop me from falling hard for you, pun intended." That earned me a smile and then a laugh - God, how I'd missed that. "I'm following my heart, not my mind, because my mind says I should go stick my head in the sand and figure some things out. Tell me why you're so worried."
"Okay, that's fair," she answered. "I also get your hesitation. But I'm talking about something else too. I'm asking you not to judge, so it would be hypocritical for me to do so. Yes, you're young. Yes, we just met under weird circumstances, and yes, I have strong feelings for you too. But you work in Silicon Valley, for fuck's sake. We're from two different worlds."
Ann went on to explain all of the reasons she thought our differing beliefs could ruin us before we even got started. I told her that regardless of where I worked or what I did for a living, my political stance was basically to ignore politics.
"Look," I told her, "From almost the first minute I regained consciousness, I didn't trust you. In fact, I really thought you might be that woman from Misery. So from my perspective, our worst days were also our first days. Plus, I've learned that what I thought Jackie and I had was never really there to begin with. You've shown me your true heart. I've never had someone be that open with me."
She tried to keep talking, but I quickly enclosed her lips with my own. Five minutes later, we were naked, rolling around on her bed. I found her soaking wet as soon as I put my hand inside her panties to remove them. Two hours and several orgasms later, we were spent and hungry.
"I'm starving!" she exclaimed. "Let's order in."
"Roger that," I replied with a mock salute. That earned me a punch in the arm, and I've earned many more since that afternoon.
Epilogue:
That conversation, and the subsequent love-making, happened twenty years ago this week.
Ann and I are now in what most call the 'private sector.' We officially left the militia after the birth of our second child, Melena. The militia, turned out to be more of a volunteer gig, and we were rarely called upon. I did use my technology skills on two occasions, but, it was creating innovative hardware - one, a listening device that resided inside the wall charger for smart devices. It activated once a smart device, with a live internet connection, was plugged in to recharge.
Ann never practiced medicine again. That didn't matter, because as a research developer in the specialty of brain function, her breakthroughs helped rewrite the medical processes of cranial surgery. So, she did use her gift, which made her quite happy and made me very proud. She also made most of the money. That never mattered to me, because I did work setting up pay systems for a Seattle-based gaming company, and also we could have easily gotten by on forty grand per year where we lived. Let's just say we were never hurting financially.
I never did hear from Jackie, after our divorce was settled. We lived in different states, and I never associated with any of my former friends. I can only hope that she learned something from our ordeal, and that she never put some other poor schmuck through the pain she caused me.
Even though our wedding anniversary is six months out, I decided to book us for a month, traveling Europe, for this, our true anniversary. It's not exactly a surprise, because that would be hard to pull off. However, we aren't going with any friends, and there isn't any camping on the menu!
Postscript:
Since this story was originally published out of order, and subsequently pulled down by the author, me, I noticed a few comments about the character Dalton, and his explanation to our MC.
As a member of four states militia, or True National Guard, I assure you that both sides do surveil the other twenty-four/seven. And yes, I'm speaking from personal experience. That's a good thing - for all US citizens and for the constitution. There's people who leave the Guard, and could go rouge, just like former FBI agents. It literally just happened to Gov. Whitmer of Michigan. Fake militia and actual FBI guys. The news claimed the FBI infiltrated the group, but in court it was proven that the FBI agents actually recruited the men, and then planned the Gov's kidnapping, in hopes of talking the fake militia dudes into helping to carry it out. All of the fake militia dudes were acquitted or their cases thrown out.
I really watered down Dalton's explanation, because I didn't feel like shocking people within an erotic story.
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Posted on : Mar 29, 2025
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