The Many and the One

by Donald Wells

  Baxter buzzes for the guard. “You’re not going to upset me Derek, now leave.”

  “You’re calling the guard? Why? Aren’t you the one who always says speaking the truth can’t hurt us? Oh, by the way, I remember now, the dog’s name was Jung, cute, your idea huh?”

  Baxter clenches his eyes tight. “You son of a bitch,” He jumps up and rushes around the desk, bumping it and sloshing the coffees. He then viciously grabs Derek by the collar.

  The guard enters and pulls Baxter off. “Doc! What the hell are you doing? Cut it out or I’ll have to report you.”

  After the guard separates them, he takes Derek by his right arm to escort him out of the office.

  At the door, Derek turns, smiling. “You’re a lucky man doctor, after all, there aren’t many women who ask to swallow after anal sex, give Shannon my regards.”

  Baxter screams. He grabs the pen off his desk and charges Derek, imbedding the instrument into Derek’s left shoulder before the guard can stop him.

  Derek cries out in pain, but afterward, he grins at the Montblanc protruding from his shoulder.

  As the guard pins the doctor to the floor and calls for backup on his radio, Derek smiles down at Baxter.

  “I suppose this concludes our sessions doctor, of course, that’s just me extrapolating.”

  * * *

  Saturday July 25th, 1998

  Jenny and Paul Jr., dressed in swimwear, are attempting to fly a kite on the cabin’s private beach. Despite a steady breeze, the temperature hovers in the high-eighties.

  Lindsay and Simone sit in the shade of a beach umbrella and watch their children play. A golden retriever named Sunny, Sunshine the black Labrador’s successor, runs along following the two kids. Up at the cabin, Jason, Matt and Paul are watching a baseball game on TV.

  Lindsay is browsing through Jason’s newest coffee table book, titled, The Cabin in the Sky. It’s filled with scenes of Lindsay, all painted about their home, luminous paintings done mostly in the garden and along the shore. One reviewer described it as, ‘A book of painted love letters.’

  “Jenny looks so happy, how’s her therapy going.” Simone asks.

  Lindsay looks over at Jenny. “She shuts down sometimes, but it happens less and less. It was so scary that first time. Thank God her depression hasn’t hit those depths again.”

  The two friends sit quietly for a time, watching their children play. Simone turns toward Lindsay as if she were about to ask a question, but then stays silent.

  “Simone, you were going to say something, what was it?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t bring this up. I just don’t want you to be shocked into inappropriate anger if it should happen.”

  “If what should happen?”

  “Lindsay, sometimes victims of sexual abuse try and sexualize other relationships, they equate sex with affection, and often they’re only able to express love or compassion through sexual intercourse.”

  “Are you talking about Jenny and Jason?”

  “Yes, I want you to be prepared in case she acts out in that way.”

  “Actually, Dr. Jacobs warned us about that. There have been no signs of her thinking of him improperly though, she thinks of him as a father, thank God not as her father. At times, she even calls me mom, and Jason, daddy, not all the time, mostly we’re still just Jason and Lindsay to her.”

  “I’m glad that’s not a problem.”

  “Jenny shows us love often. More than once she’s walked up to me out of the blue and hugged me for no reason, and if her cooking doesn’t express love, I don’t know what does. I thank God for her every day, and for her healing, thank God she’s healing.”

  “Jenny can thank you and Jason. You two love that girl to death and that’s helping her to heal more than anything else.”

  Lindsay sighs. “That and time, she just needs time.”

  * * *

  Saturday November 20th, 1999 12:08 p.m.

  A loud chorus of “Happy Birthday” can be heard throughout the cabin as family and friends gather to celebrate Jenny’s seventeenth birthday.

  Jason and Lindsay’s parents are snapping pictures, as Paul and Simone carry the birthday cake into the dining room.

  Paul Jr. gives Jenny a quick kiss on the lips. “Happy birthday,”

  Jenny smiles, “Thank you Paul, you’re so sweet.”

  On her wrist, she wears the gold bracelet he gave her earlier when they were alone.

  Jason waves to her. “Come over to the table and blow out your candles honey.”

  Marcy stands between Jason and Lindsay and is practically touching Jason. Jenny sees this and slides in between them.

  Marcy steps back and gives her an annoyed look.

  “I hope you don’t mind Marcy.” Jenny says with a smile. “But I’d like to come between, um, I mean stand between my parents as I blow out the candles. I’m sure you understand?”

  Marcy folds her arms across her chest. “I understand Jenny.”

  Lindsay suppresses a laugh and whispers, “Be nice.” to Jenny.

  Jenny smiles back at her sweetly, and then blows out the candles.

  “So where are the gifts?” Frank Parker asks.

  “Oh daddy, you know we hid everything out in the cottage.” Lindsay says.

  Jason grins. “Let’s go to the cottage so Jennifer can see her present, uh presents.”

  They grab their coats and head out the door in the kitchen.

  As Jenny reaches out to open the cottage door, Lindsay stops her.

  “Where are you going? Your present was too big to fit in there so we kept it outside.”

  With Jason taking one hand and Lindsay the other, Jenny is led to the back of the cottage where a new, bright yellow, 2000 Nissan Maxima sits. Jenny’s mouth drops open and she looks back and forth between them.

  “No, no way you guys bought me a car. You really bought me a car? Paul do you see this? We can go anywhere now, no more begging rides. Oh God thank you guys. I swear you’re the best parents in the world.”

  Matt raises his hand. “You’re gonna give me rides too, right sis?”

  Jenny says, “Anywhere you want to go little brother,” while running over to the car.

  Jason holds up a set of keys.

  “Hey! These might come in handy.”

  Jenny catches the keys and starts the car; next, she drives it around to the front of the cottage.

  Lindsay opens the car door. “That’s as far as you can go Little Girl, at least until you get your license on Monday.”

  “Oh God, what if I don’t pass the test? Oh I gotta pass that test.” Jenny says, horrified at the thought of her car just sitting there, unable to be driven.

  Jason takes her by the shoulders. “Young lady, this is your car, but we are your parents, no driving after nine on school days and home by midnight on weekends, are we clear?”

  “Yes Sir, I love you Sir.” Jenny says.

  “You’d better,” Jason says, followed by, “Take a look in the trunk.”

  Jenny finds, and then hits the trunk release button on the remote. Inside the trunk are the rest of her gifts from family and friends.

  “Those are from all of us sweetie.” Marjorie says.

  “I can’t believe she’s almost grown.” Adam says.

  Jenny attacks the packages gleefully as Jason and Lindsay look on, full of smiles.

  “Dad’s right, she is almost grown. We’d better seriously start discussing colleges with her.”

  Jason shrugs. “She can go to one in the state, Rutgers maybe, somewhere close by.”

  “Boomer, she might want to go away to college.”

  “Oh no, it would kill me not to see her for weeks at a time.”

  “Poor Boomer, daddy’s little girl is growing up.”

  * * *

  Later that night, Jason, Lindsay, Matt and Jenny sit in the kitchen, looking at Jenny’s gifts.

  Jason points to a white, oblong box. “What’s that honey?”

  “It’s a
recipe box from Grandma Joyce, I really need it.” Jenny rises from the table and retrieves a pile of papers inches thick from a drawer. “These are all my own recipes or my variations of other’s recipes, they really need organizing.”

  “Jenny you’ve got enough there for a book, your own cookbook.” Matt says.

  “No, mom’s the writer. I just like to cook. It would be fun to write a cookbook though.”

  “Little Girl, if you ever get serious about it, I’ll help you.”

  “Really Lindsay?” Jenny says.

  “Just say the word.”

  * * *

  The word is said, and four months later the pile of paper is turned into a rough draft, another month and it’s a polished manuscript. Lindsay sends it off to her publisher and to her surprise they send it back rejected, albeit with a nice note, but rejected nonetheless.

  Jenny is heartbroken. Lindsay tells her she should submit it to other publishers, but Jason has another idea: why not publish the book themselves?

  “Jennifer, Lindsay knows a lot about publishing, she helped me with my coffee table books and I can help you later with the day to day things, even Matt can pitch in.”

  “But daddy, that could cost a lot of money and what if it doesn’t sell? We’d be stuck with tons of books collecting dust.”

  “Your mom and I will take that risk, but we both think this book is a winner, you’re the best cook we know. You were born to cook, it’s your talent and we think it should be shared.”

  Jenny smiles, “Okay, I’ll do it if you will.”

  “I insist on one thing though.”

  “What’s that?” Lindsay says.

  “That we put our daughter’s beautiful, smiling face on the cover. That guarantees every man in America will at least pick it up and look at it.”

  Jenny blushes. “Oh Jason,”

  “Jason’s right Jenny, you’re stunning, we couldn’t ask for a better cover.” Lindsay says.

  “Okay, let’s do it.” Jenny says.

  * * *

  By the time Jenny turns nineteen, her book, How to cook for your boyfriend, husband or whatever, with her smiling face on the cover, is in its seventh printing.

  At one point, Jenny and Lindsay were both on the top one hundred list of books. Lindsay’s book was a departure for her. She’d written about a real life mystery that had stumped the police for years.

  Marcy, a reporter, had wanted to write a book for a long time. One day, while she and Lindsay were talking about famous unsolved murders, they came up with the idea for a book exploring a case in detail.

  The two uncovered things the police had missed, and a month after the book was published, a new suspect was questioned and ultimately confessed to the murder. Lindsay still wrote novels but was now also regarded as a serious non-fiction writer.

  * * *

  By late spring of 2002, Lindsay and Marcy were working on their second book: The Charlotte Stern Murder.

  The book would endeavor to answer the question of who the second man in the house with Harry Johnson could have been. Lindsay had never liked the idea that someone even marginally involved in Simona’s death could be walking around free.

  Marcy interviewed Derek, so that Lindsay could keep her distance from him. They sit out on the cabin’s patio talking about her interview.

  “Lindsay you would not believe how much he’s changed. I mean he’s still handsome, but my God he looks old. He almost looks old enough to be Jason’s father, he’s really deteriorating.”

  “He can’t rot fast enough. What did he have to say?”

  “The same old story he told the police. He didn’t see anything, but only heard someone else moving around, and believe it or not he hit on me, in prison!”

  “While you were gone I tracked down Diego Perez. He’s the bartender that worked with Harry Johnson at the hotel. He says he saw Derek with Harry several weeks before the murder.”

  “Why didn’t he tell that to the police?” Marcy says.

  “He didn’t know who Derek was at the time the police questioned him. He saw Derek on TV later and recognized him, but by then, he figured it didn’t matter anymore.”

  “Well, all we can do is keep turning over rocks, but this book seems to be going nowhere.”

  Lindsay stares at Marcy. “Were you able to find out anything new on that other matter?”

  Marcy shakes her head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. I feel like I’m helping you feed an obsession.”

  “You’ve found out something haven’t you?” Lindsay asks, and then frowns when Marcy hesitates to answer. “Marcy I’m not obsessed, I just know what I know, the blood tests were wrong. Simona was Jason’s daughter and someday I’m going to prove it.”

  Marcy exhales noisily. “Computers are wonderful things. I ran background checks on the employees who worked at that lab in May of 1989. Two weeks after the blood tests results were issued a lab technician named Martin Curtis paid off his mortgage and bought a new car. I couldn’t find out where the money came from, it could all just be a coincidence.”

  “No, he must be the one that was paid to doctor the results. Where does he live? I have to talk to him.”

  “Lindsay, he’s dead. He died of AIDS in 1997, I’m sorry.”

  “Damn it!” Lindsay says, she then nervously taps her fingers on the table. “DNA testing would settle this once and for all.”

  “You would have to exhume Simona to do that, would it be worth it?”

  “No I won’t do that. I’ll find another way.”

  “Lindsay, let this go, believe what you want to, but let this go, please?”

  “I’ve tried, but this has eaten away at me for years, I have to know the truth, I have to.”

  Jason opens the sliding glass door and comes out onto the patio. It’s a hot day and so Jason wears denim shorts and a blue tank top along with a pair of white Nikes.

  “Hi Marcy, how are you?”

  Marcy smiles and tosses back her hair. “I’m fine Jason, how are you?”

  “Fine thanks, Lindsay I wanted to let you know I’m taking Matt to Little League practice and Jennifer is tagging along, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Okay Boomer, see you later.” They kiss goodbye.

  “Goodbye Jason,” Marcy says, she sends him a little wave while looking him over.

  “See you around Marcy.” Jason says, while leaving.

  Marcy sighs. “Lindsay, you are one lucky woman.”

  “Do you lust after my husband Marcy?”

  “Yes—I’m sorry, Lindsay I’d never try anything, he’s just so… you know?”

  Lindsay smiles wide, “Believe me I know, and I’m flattered that you like him.”

  “You guys have been together such a long time, what’s your secret?”

  “There’s no secret, we just love each other that’s all. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  “What about Jason? Do you ever worry he’ll stray?”

  “No, I trust Jason, and I know him, an affair could never just be about sex for him, he would have to love the woman first, and I would see something that big coming.”

  “Yes… I’m sure you would.” Marcy says, as she talks, she looks through the glass door and watches Jason and Jenny laughing and holding hands, as they walk out the front door together.

  46

  By Thanksgiving of 2002, twenty-year-old Jenny is thriving financially thanks to her cookbook sales. The college sophomore is also earning a degree in the culinary arts at a nearby school, while eleven-year-old Matt dreams of running the family construction business someday.

  This morning, Matt’s off playing with friends, while Jason, Lindsay and Jenny sit in front of the fireplace, in the corner, the TV broadcasts the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Jenny’s sprawled in her usual position, head on Lindsay’s lap and legs on Jason’s.

  Lindsay plays with Jenny’s long red hair as she talks. “Marcy and I are thinking of dumping the book idea, it’s going nowhere.”


  “That’s a shame honey; you two put a lot of work into that book.”

  “The only thing new we came up with, is that we’re sure Derek’s lying about something.”

  “Do you think he’s involved somehow?” Jason asks.

  “We’re not sure. Charlotte was strange in life and even stranger in death.”

  “Did you two know my grandmother well?” Jenny asks.

  Lindsay grins. “Jason was once invited to get to know her intimately.”

  “What do you mean mom?”

  “I mean that she stepped out of a bathtub naked and asked your daddy to bed, the slut.” Lindsay says, mad again just thinking about it.

  “Oh my God, really? Jason what did you do?”

  Jason shrugs. “I picked her up and threw her back into the tub.”

  “That’s so funny; she must have really had the hots for you.”

  “It was more like her way of trying to break us up.”

  “Well, how would sleeping with her do that?” Jenny says.

  “Believe me; if I’d slept with Charlotte, Lindsay would have been right to dump me.”

  “No, I mean how would she prove it? If you lied, it would’ve been your word against hers and mom would’ve believed you.”

  “You know Jennifer, I never gave it much thought, and maybe Charlotte didn’t either.”

  “Jenny you’ve got a good point there.” Lindsay says. “Charlotte wasn’t the type to leave things to chance, but how could she prove it?”

  “Maybe McGee wasn’t the only one with hidden cameras in that house.” Jason muses. “Maybe Charlotte had one in her bedroom somewhere.”

  Lindsay grabs Jason’s arm. “Charlotte was murdered in her bedroom! What if she got the chance to film her own murder?”

  “The police would have found a camera, wouldn’t they?” Jason says.

  “Maybe not, they weren’t looking for one, what if there’s a tape? I wonder if Bob can get a search warrant.”

  “He’ll be here for dinner later, you can ask him then.” Jason says.

  Jenny jumps up and heads toward the kitchen. “That reminds me, it’s time to baste the turkey again, see ya guys.”

  “Honey don’t get your hopes up, it sounds like a long shot.”