With that, I smile at him with tears in my eyes. How did I get so lucky to find this man? It seems almost unfair that my friend had to disappear in order for our romance to come true. Yet, my heart contracts sharply at Stone’s words because I know I’m already falling hard for the alpha male, and I want so much more with him.
7
Stone
Six months later.
The day has finally come. We never located my missing wife, despite massive effort. They brought out the dogs, the helicopters, and multiple search parties were organized. The police even dredged nearby Lake Kanaweetchee in the hopes of finding a trace of Margaret.
But it’s as if she’s vanished into thin air. I don’t get it. The forest is dark and looming, but someone can’t disappear just like that. These days, the government has military-grade tracking devices, including drones and pressure pads buried beneath the forest floor that can tell the difference between animals and humans. So why couldn’t they find one missing woman?
But it’s true. After the umpteenth search party came back empty-handed, I confronted Sheriff Gould about next steps.
“What do we do?” I asked, my expression half dour, yet also half afraid. “So many people and manhours have been spent, not to mention the bill I’m going to get from the great state of Maine. What’s next?”
The chubby sheriff hitched up his pants and cleared his throat.
“Is this the end of the line?” I pressed. “Please tell me if it is. This has been pure torture.”
Those words were the truth too. Looking for Margaret was torture because I care about her. Sure, we were getting divorced, but that didn’t mean that I hated her guts. She was a decent human being who deserves better than death.
But then Sheriff Gould spoke, tugging a bit on his hat brim.
“You know I’ve been in this business for thirty years now, don’t you, son?” he asks kindly. “Seen a lot of stuff in my day.”
I nod, bracing myself for platitudes. He’s going to say something about “life isn’t fair” or “you have to appreciate what you have while you have it.” I hung my head with despair. This wasn’t the time for moral preaching. If my wife was dead, then I wanted to know.
But instead, Sheriff Gould cleared his throat again and his eyes took on a practical look.
“In my time, I’ve seen some missing persons cases and they usually end badly. But most times, there were puzzle pieces that offered an explanation: a drug dependency, or an abusive significant other. Sometimes they were drifters with long histories of crime. Or in one case, the missing person was in the country illegally, and had somehow bought a firearm in nearby Vermont.”
I nod.
“No, none of that applies to Margaret. She was fine. She was healthy, happy, and had her entire life before her.”
Of course, I don’t mention that we were on the verge of formally divorcing. There’s no need to go there.
Sheriff Gould nods again.
“That’s what makes this case so strange. Your wife didn’t have a mean bone in her body, nor an enemy in the world. She was beloved by the entire town, and worked as the local librarian. We’ve been over her life story many times, and it appears golden for the most part.”
I stare at him, puzzled.
“So what are you saying?”
He shrugs a little.
“I just thought … well, son, have you thought that maybe your wife wanted to disappear?”
I stare at him, my brow furrowed.
“Why would Margaret want to disappear?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. Sometimes people get it in their heads that they want to start over, and not by moving to a new town or changing their name. They want to wipe the slate entirely clean, and so they disappear.”
I stare at him.
“How is that even possible? There’s so much technology today to track someone, including cameras everywhere, GPS, not to mention your social security number. How would someone get a new identity even?”
He shrugs.
“It can be done. It’s arduous, illegal, and expensive as hell, but it can be done if you persist. Now I’m not saying Margaret did that,” he says, holding his hands up. “I’m just saying that without anything nefarious in her life, it’s likely that she chose to disappear.”
I sputter.
“That’s crazy. No way. My wife would never do that.”
The sheriff merely shrugs again.
“When all possibilities have been eliminated, then the only one left is the truth, however crazy it may seem.”
I shake my head furiously again.
“No way. Not Margaret,” I say firmly. “She would never do this to me, to the city, or to herself. It’s not like her at all.”
Sheriff Gould merely nods politely again and excuses himself.
“Take care now, Stone. I’m going to go ahead and check up on Harvey Little, but you take care of yourself, okay?”
I stared as the chubby man lumbered off the porch and into his cop car. He waved as he pulled away, kicking up bits of dirt and snow, and I leaned against the rail of the front porch.
Could it be true? Could Margaret have disappeared on purpose? The thought seemed ludicrous because surely, she knew we’d pull out all the stops looking for her. Surely, she knew that we’d spend thousands of dollars and that our neighbors would volunteer their time to search for her. So why would she do this?
Musing, I turn to look at the guesthouse rented by Jenny. Could it have something to do with the beautiful blonde? It couldn’t because Jenny and Margaret were as thick as thieves. They got along well, and my suspicion is that Margaret invited Jenny to coffee that day in order to tell her about our impending divorce. It seems ludicrous that my wife’s disappearance would have anything to do with the gorgeous girl.
Yet who knows? Ever since Margaret disappeared, Jenny and I have been seeing each other in secret. Our loving is passionate, heartfelt, and incredibly sensual. I steal over to her cabin under the thick of night, and crawl into bed next to her in order to worship those golden curves. I stroke, touch, and savor as Jenny cries out, and she makes me come like I never have before, dumping gallons of semen into her sweet body each night.
Yes, we should feel guilty being together like this, but we don’t. Jenny and I have a real connection, and I know that if Margaret knew, she would bless our relationship. There’s no way my former wife would disappear on purpose, leaving us in an uncomfortable limbo … is there?
8
Jenny
The day is bright and cheery, which somehow seems wrong for a funeral. After all, we’re gathering at the cemetery today to say our goodbyes to Margaret. It’s been a long time coming. After the initial burst of activity following my friend’s disappearance, things slowly tapered off. Fewer volunteers showed up to search, and the police eventually pulled back their resources. They shook their heads regretfully while talking with Stone.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Harriman,” said the Sheriff. “But she’s been gone six months now, and it’s unlikely she’ll ever be found.”
To his credit, Stone maintained his composure.
“Thank you for your service,” he said. “I very much appreciate everything that you, and everyone else on the force, has put into this search. You’ll always have my gratitude.”
With that, the sheriff clapped Stone’s shoulder and disappeared into his sedan, driving off into the wooded glade.
I turned to look at Stone.
“What next?”
His expression was pensive, and he took a deep breath.
“I think we have to give up the search,” he said. “We have to accept that my wife is dead and gone, and never coming back.”
I choked a little.
“Are you serious?”
He swung around to look at me, those chestnut eyes bright with unshed tears and emotion.
“Yes, and I think we have to have a funeral for her too. The state won’t declare her officially dead
until seven years have passed, but we can’t wait seven years. This town can’t wait seven years. We need to celebrate Margaret’s life and give closure to Jericho by holding a funeral.”
I agreed even as my heart tore in half, and helped Stone make the preparations. Thus, I’m here now, at a small lot in a gladed wood, surrounded by Margaret’s family and friends as we say our goodbyes. The setting is perfect. Sunlight streams through the dappled trees, and casts dancing shadows on the ground. The smell of pine is fresh in the air, and the new buds of spring fill everyone with hope, even if we’re gathered here in sorrow.
“She was amazing,” cries Margaret’s mother before the small memorial. “She was my baby.”
Stone walks up and puts a strong arm around Mrs. Lockhart’s waist, helping her off to the side to sit. The older woman stumbles with her grief, and my heart goes out to her. If I lost a child, I too would be absolutely devastated. Her gray head bows and her shoulders hunch, even as Stone murmurs words of comfort.
Tears spring to my eyes at this sad scenario, but then the pastor motions to me, and I get up awkwardly while dabbing my face. It’s time for me to give my eulogy.
I stumble to the front, and pull out a small notecard. This shouldn’t take long. As people listen, I try to paint my friend as the funny, caring person she was.
“And Margaret loved Russian literature, did you know? She was a stellar student and graduated with highest honors from Colgate with dual degrees in Russian literature and Russian language. Not only that, but I think she stocked the library’s shelves with everyone from Dostoevsky to Tolstoy.”
The crowd nods and murmurs, and I add a half-hearted joke.
“But it wasn’t just the adult reading shelves that she packed full of Russian authors. Margaret was also very into teaching children to read, and I know she also purchased Russian classics like Babayaga, the old folk tale, and even a few copies of Masha and the Bear for kids to peruse.”
The crowd murmurs and nods again. They know how caring Margaret was, and how she served as a full-service librarian for adults and children alike.
With that, I conclude my short speech and sit down again. Stone gives me one long, silent look of approval, and my heart beats almost painfully. We’re united in our respect for his wife, and even if he’s unable to formally declare her dead at this very moment, we’re moving forward nonetheless. It’s a bit of an awkward limbo because how do you get a divorce from someone who’s missing? Regardless, we’re going to explore our options and move forward. After this funeral, we’re meeting with a family attorney to figure out what he can and can’t do, now that Margaret’s gone.
A few more words are said, and the attendees return to the Big House for some refreshments. It should be sad, but to the tell the truth, I think most people are just grateful for the closure. Margaret’s been weighing on all of our hearts and souls now, and with her funeral, I think some of us can finally shut that door for good. She’ll always live in our thoughts, but she will no longer haunt them, the way she has been doing.
Stone is talking to some relatives on the far side of the living room, and I yearn to go over and press my lips to his, but it’s still too early. No one knows about our relationship yet, but soon, very soon, they’ll know exactly what this man means to me.
9
Stone
Six years later.
She’s curvy and gorgeous, and it drives me insane. Jenny has always been beautiful, but recently she’s put on some weight and it makes her curves even more luscious and tempting. At the moment, she’s riding my face and wailing long, low and loud as I tongue her sweet slit.
“Oh Stoooone,” she cries out. “Yes, right there!”
With a grin, I know I’ve hit it. I suckle her clit into my mouth and then bite on it gently, which causes her honey to drip even harder.
“Yes, Stone,” she gasps. “Oh god, yes.”
“Come in my mouth,” I rasp. “I want to drink every drop of this sweet female nectar.”
She throws her head back in another wail and then lets go. Contractions rush through her pussy, making her jerk and spasm, and a torrid gush of femininity flows into my mouth. I gulp and swallow feverishly, desperate to drink it all.
After all, Jenny and I are out in the open about our relationship now. After Margaret’s funeral, we went to see a lawyer who explained our options. There weren’t many and the choices that existed weren’t pretty.
“You can’t divorce someone who’s missing because there’s no one to serve,” the lawyer explained.
I squinted.
“What do you mean, serve? As in a tennis serve?”
He shook his head, fiddling with the page of a document.
“No, legal papers need to be delivered to the intended recipient according to certain methods. For example, if I were evicting a tenant, there are only a few ways of notifying the lessee. I would have to nail a notice to their door, send notice via registered mail, or use a service to personally serve the person I was trying to evict. Or a combination of those three methods. Every jurisdiction is different, and it’s important that you follow the requirements to a “T.””
“So what does that mean?” I ask slowly. “Who would I notify about my divorce? How would I go about it when my wife’s missing?”
The lawyer sighed.
“That’s it exactly. There isn’t really a way for proper service when Margaret’s missing and presumed dead, but not legally dead.”
I blink hard. He can’t be serious.
“Can’t I serve Margaret by leaving the papers in her old bedroom? Or by leaving them at her mother’s place? I’m not looking for assets. She can have everything. I’m just looking to move on with my life.”
He shook his head regretfully.
“I’m sorry, but no. I understand your predicament because of the terrible turn of events. But until your wife declared legally dead by the State of Maine, there’s no way for you to actually divorce her.”
I stare at him, Jenny’s small hand held tightly in my own.
“You can’t be serious. What if I want to get married again? What if I want to date?”
The lawyer’s eyes shoot to our clasped hands, and he nods regretfully.
“You can date, that’s no problem. There’s nothing against the law when it comes to dating. But with respect to marriage, you’ll have to wait until your wife has been declared dead in absentia, which generally takes seven years. Only then, will you be free to divorce Margaret, and free to marry someone else too. There’s no way to jump the gun because bigamy is illegal here in Maine. I suppose you could petition the State legislature to change the code, but it’s highly unlikely that you’ll get anywhere.”
I stare at him.
“This is crazy. I’m stuck being married to a woman who’s missing for another seven years? How is that fair? How is that just?”
The lawyer merely shakes his head regretfully again.
“You’ll have to talk to the legislature. I’m so sorry Mr. Harrison, but there’s no such thing as “fair” or “just” when it comes to matters of the heart, nor the law for that matter. Seven years is what you’ll have to wait. Well, actually the clock starts ticking from when the missing person is first declared missing, so you may only have to wait six years from this date.”
I was stunned. The rest of the appointment passed in a blur, and I barely even heard what was said. When Jenny and I left his office, she turned to me with wide eyes.
“You have to be married to Margaret for six more years?” she whispered. “How are we going to manage that? This sounds so wrong. Am I dating a married man? I never thought I’d be the other woman.”
My shoulders slumped as I opened the car door for her.
“I don’t know, Jenny, but yes, it kind of sounds like it. Right now, I don’t see a way out of this, except to let the clock run its course. Do you have any ideas? I’m not sure we have choices right now. I feel like we’re in a barren desert with only one way forward that�
��s extremely painful and long.”
She stared straight ahead as I shut her door and walked to the other side.
“Still, it just doesn’t seem fair,” she said in a low, broken voice. “How did we get into this predicament?”
I got into the car, and dropped my forehead against the steering wheel in despair.
“I don’t know, and I would never wish this situation on someone else. I just have to say that I hope you’ll stay with me on this journey as we wait, honey. It’s frustrating because there’s nothing we can do but wait, but again, I’m not sure we have another choice.”
Jenny bit her lip as she put on her seatbelt. I could tell she was thinking, and my heart pulsed with sudden fear. If Jenny wanted to leave me, I wouldn’t blame her. After all, our circumstances were so bizarre. A missing wife who also happens to be her best friend? A divorce thwarted by a disappearance? It was like out of a movie. Besides, why would Jenny stay when she could find any number of eligible men to take my place?
But I underestimated the beautiful blonde because stay she did. Our passion was strong enough to withstand that assault, and it’s been strong enough to last years now. We clung together, and miracle of miracles, our love grew even more powerful because of the challenges we faced.
It wasn’t easy at first. We came out about our relationship slowly, and expected a lot of blowback. Jenny was nervous about going to the grocery store or the park for fear that people would talk. But to our surprise, the town accepted our relationship with grace. I guess they sensed that we were between a rock and a hard place, with no good choices. As a result, nobody said anything when Jenny and I began to hold hands in public, and when she moved into the Big House, it felt right.
As a result, I feel extraordinarily lucky to have found this woman. She stuck with me even when I had nothing but uncertainty to offer her, and it’s been six years now. Six glorious, heavenly years with this beautiful, lush woman at my side, day in and day out. I press a kiss to her pussy to show her how much I appreciate her, making her giggle and shriek.
My Best Friend's Husband Page 5
