by Brenda Hill
I hugged him, not even wanting to think of a future without him, shutting out thoughts of this robust, vital man succumbing to such a horrible disease.
“Dammit,” he said, “it’s not fair, especially now that I’ve found you. If this had happened years ago, I don’t think I would’ve minded so much. But now? What a cruel fate.”
My heart breaking for him, I wished I knew of something to help him feel better, but what could anyone do when a loved one was facing such a catastrophe? I felt so helpless.
“Whatever happens,” I told him, snuggling even closer, “we’ll face it together.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Armed with my new pepper spray, I previewed houses in Redlands the next day, but feeling edgy and restless, I saw nothing that appealed to me.
As soon as I walked into my condo, I smelled something delicious cooking. Terry had set the table and had a rib roast in the oven, complete with mushrooms, carrots and potatoes. He gave me a quick kiss and instructed me to change into something comfortable.
“Unless you need help getting out of your clothes,” he said with a grin, placing a tossed salad, hot rolls and a real man’s butter on the table. If I hadn’t already been in love, I would have given him my heart right then.
I’d never before felt so pampered, so cared for, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune to have met someone like him.
In bed that evening, Terry talked about my future without him.
“Don’t spend the rest of your life grieving,” he said, arms wrapped around me. “I want you to get out there and live. Follow your own dreams. If we don’t have a motor home by then, go out and get one. Go to some of those places you want to see.”
“By myself? I couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you could. Get one of those smaller ones that you can handle. Nowadays, they come with all the electrical gadgets, and you could learn how to operate it.”
“I wouldn’t travel by myself.”
“You should. There are different travel clubs you could join. They go to different places as a group. Lots of women belong to them.”
“But I’ll probably be working.”
“You won’t have to. You’ll get my insurance once we’re married. But even if that independent streak shows up and you want to work, fine. You could live in the motor home and take off on weekends or days off. But whatever you do, get out and grab some life.”
“What if I grab you instead.” I didn’t want to think about a future without him, so I pulled him close and kissed him. His arms tightened and his lips became demanding. Soon our nude bodies were plastered together.
“Roll over,“ I told him, and he rolled onto his back. I sat up, then eased down on his penis. I’d heard so much about the female on top but in all the years of my marriage, I’d never cared enough to try it. Now, straddling his groin, his penis filling me, I couldn’t believe the sensations the new position created.
Losing myself in play, I wiggled and squirmed, delighting in Terry’s reactions. Then I tried rising as high as I could go without losing contact and slowly sliding back down. I rocked, I twisted, loving the way my body reacted, glorying in the power I felt when Terry groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. When his hands gripped mine and his entire body tightened, I knew he was about to explode. His impending climax encouraged my own and I rocked faster, the pleasure building until my entire being centered on my genitals. We peaked together, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Breathless, I collapsed on his chest.
For several minutes, neither of us moved. Finally I dragged in enough air to utter one word: “Wow.”
“Good God,” Terry said, still panting, “I’ve created a sex fiend.”
I laughed and scooted up his body to nip his ear lobe.
“Forget it.” He glanced over my body to his groin. “There’s no life left. You got it all.”
“Well, that’ll teach you to date a younger woman.”
“Younger woman? Ha! I can outdo you any time.”
“Oh yeah?” I reached down and lifted his limp penis, laughing when I let go and it folded like a cooked spaghetti noodle.
“See what you did? I’m going to need a transfusion before I can function again.”
“Okay, old man, I’m going to take another shower. I can’t do floor duty tomorrow smelling like sex.”
“Why not? You’d have all the men after you.”
“Well, I’ve got all the man I want right here.” Sliding off him, I wiggled so my nipples brushed his chest. Locking his arms around me, he pulled me back on top of him and kissed me.
“Just where I want you,” he said, kissing me again. I felt his erection growing.
“Guess you’re not as old as you thought.”
“With you, I’m a tiger.” He growled, the low rumble in his throat sounding astonishing like a wild animal. I laughed. He nipped at my throat, then licked the same spot. The tingle zinged all the way to my toes, and that quickly, I was ready for him.
A half hour later, I stood in the shower, exhausted but happy. I used the almond liquid soap, alive to the sensuous feel of the silken lather on my skin, my breasts. Never in my life had I felt so free, or so gloriously alive. For the first time, I began to dream of the possibilities life had to offer. Like Terry, I wanted to grab what I could.
***
While previewing houses the next day, I still couldn’t drum up interest. Maybe it was the heat. In the last few days, the thermometer had soared and I wilted in hot weather.
Terry had some personal errands to run so I drove aimlessly, not wanting to head home yet. I wound up on California Highway 38, the back road to Big Bear. While I had no interest in going all the way to the mountain community, I loved the back way to Yucaipa and the winding road that steadily climbed the hills past the populated area. And when I got to the turn-off to Yucaipa, I stayed on the highway. Perhaps I’d drive on up to Forest Falls, a community nestled in the San Bernardino forest about ten miles further up the road.
I loved the drive because the scenery changed so quickly along that stretch. One minute I was in an open valley with scrub brush on each side of the highway and the next, in a canyon with the foothills around me. Scrub brush gave way to trees, and a sign announced the beginning of the San Bernardino National Forest. A dry riverbed paralleled the highway; it might’ve had a trickle or two but I couldn’t see. I was constantly climbing and the outside temperature dropped so I rolled down my window and turned off my air conditioner.
A few miles further, I spotted a sign saying Forest Falls was six miles further. Taking the cutoff, I drove another mile down a two-lane curving road and stopped at the bridge. The riverbed still had more rocks than water, but it was actual running water and I loved it.
I continued on the serene tree-lined road to a scattering of mountain cabins, then past the fire station and wood and stone post office. Just being in the midst of all the trees with the mountain peaks showing in the distance relaxed every muscle. I’d always loved the thought of living there. It suddenly occurred to me—why couldn’t I live there now?
On a whim, I kept driving, and right before the park area with picnic benches, I saw realtor signs standing in front of a few properties. Some were older cabins, but I also saw newer homes as well.
One white frame house sat on an incline off a side road, the back yard opening to the forest. On the front lawn, two pines sat next to mature hibiscus trees in flower. One was a purplish-pink and the other a yellow. Not familiar with the different breeds, I examined the yellow five-petal flower, struck by the orangey-red center. It all looked beautiful, and I could picture family barbeques or quiet evenings sitting on the shaded porch.
Inside, I found hardwood floors, high ceilings and crown moldings. The out-dated wooden kitchen cabinets desperately needed attention, but someone had remodeled the two bathrooms, installing new tile as well as pedestal sinks and a claw-foot bathtub.
Walking from room to room, I pictured how I’d decorate if it
were mine. A loft area outside the upstairs bedrooms would be a perfect reading area, and I imagined lining the walls with bookcases and sitting on a comfortable chair in the evenings, Kyle selecting toys from a nearby chest.
Even though the house had been built in the early nineteen-hundreds and needed some repair work, I adored it and wondered if Terry would like it as well. We hadn’t even discussed living arrangements beyond the brief discussion in the beginning of our relationship, but I considered the possibilities. I could sell the condo, and even if the new place was mortgaged to the ceiling, Terry and I could start all over in our own home, with no hidden or hostile memories to mar our life together.
Excited by the thought, I rushed down the hillside to Redlands to run the specs on my condo and the new neighborhood before calling Terry. I discovered that while prices were down, the condo had appreciated just enough in price in the year since Mac had mortgaged it that I could sell it and pay off Stan and Maggie. That alone was the deciding factor. If I could pay them off entirely and have enough left over to make a down payment on something else, I’d do it. I couldn’t wait to get home and talk to Terry.
Too excited to wait, I punched in Terry’s cell number. When he answered, I told him about finding the house and running the specs on my condo.
“Whoa, honey. Isn’t this a little sudden? Maybe you should give this a little more thought. You don’t want to make a mistake by selling too soon.”
“You’re right. I’ll think about it.” I held the phone and glanced at Nina at her desk, at Ed at his, and finally, out the window at the sunny day. “Okay,” I said to Terry. “I’ve thought about it. Shall I pick you up?”
***
Terry loved the house as much as I did, and after doing his thing, like jumping on the floors and examining the foundation, he eyed the two pine trees in front.
“Perfect spacing for a hammock,” he said.
“Good heavens, I haven’t seen a hammock since I was a child.”
“Can’t think of a better way to spend a lazy summer afternoon. Afterwards, that is.” He grinned. “I think they have hammocks big enough for two.” He gave me a kiss. “If we’re going to buy a house together, how about marrying me?”
“Sorry. Not ready yet. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to live in sin?”
“Living in sin has its advantages, but we might shock the neighbors.”
“I doubt our living in sin will bother them,” I said, bantering back. “It’s the swinging parties they might not like.”
He smiled, then was quiet a moment. “Honey,” he finally said, “I love the house, but before you go further, you better take some time to give this some serious thought.”
“Serious thought about what?”
“I’m thinking about Shanna. I’m sure she associates the condo with her father. It might be hard for her to think about you in a different house, especially with me. Perhaps you should take one step at a time. For her sake.”
I had to admit he had a point. But I wanted a new start in a new house. I wanted a new life.
“I hope she can come to accept everything that’s happened,” I told him, “but I can’t wait to live my life until she approves.” I took a deep breath. “Ready to go to the office? We can fill out the contract.”
***
We spent the next couple of hours with Ben filling out forms on the condo as well as the new house. While Terry would move in and help with the house, he insisted on presenting the contract in my name only.
“It’s better this way,” he said. “You’ll have your own home and I won’t have any legal complications.”
When we left the building, he slipped his arm around me. “It’s official now,” he said. “Any regrets?”
“Absolutely not.” I took a deep breath. “Now, if the contract’s accepted, we can truly start fresh.”
Just as we reached our cars, the loud sound of a revving engine caught our attention. Burning rubber, Rick’s Corvette sped into the street and passed us.
“Look!” I pointed. This time Terry saw it.
“What the hell,” he said, staring after the car. His eyes narrowed and the muscle in his jaw worked.
“That tears it. Come on.” He led me into his car, and after we were seated, he punched in a number on his cell phone. He turned to me. “I’m calling Jack. He’s a cop.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack Morales lived in Sun Lakes, an upscale retirement community in Banning, an oasis for seniors with shade trees, man-made waterfalls, and golf courses. Once through the manned security gate, we passed blocks of condos as well as free-standing homes, all with manicured lawns and pruned shrubs. Not one errant scrap of paper survived on the grass or in the street. As always, everything was impressive, including the palm-lined entrance to the country club.
“A cop’s salary must be pretty damn good,” I said.
“It’s not his salary; it’s the private investigating he does on the side. Rich widows pay well to check out boyfriends.”
If I were a movie producer, I would never have selected Jack to play a cop. With his graying red hair, freckles and tall, slim build, he looked harmless. And friendly. Perhaps that was why he was so successful as an investigator.
“Damn, you look good,” he said, wrapping Terry in a bear hug. “About time. And Lisa.” He grabbed my hand. “You must be the reason he looks so happy. I can see why.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but his warmth quickly drew me in.
“I owe this man everything,” Jack went on. “Fifteen years ago he saved my daughter in a freak house fire, went in for her when the ceiling collapsed and she couldn’t get out. Thanks to him I have two grandchildren now.”
“Jack . . .” Terry’s face flushed, actually turned red. I couldn’t believe it.
Jack clapped him on the back. “Come on, buddy, let’s get sinful.”
In the center of the patio table, a Boston cream pie sat, just lopsided enough to look homemade.
Terry eyed the pie. “Don’t tell me you made that.”
“You kidding? I have widows and divorcees all around me and they all think I need fattening up. They try to outdo each other and I get the results. Love it.”
We demolished the entire thing. If I didn’t quit eating so much, I’d have to start wearing stretch pants.
When we sprawled back in our chairs with coffee, the rugged San Gorgonio mountain peaks as a backdrop, Jack took a sip of his coffee, then set the cup down.
“So what’s going on?”
Terry brought him up to speed about Rick, and when Jack asked what had started it, I told him, in detail, about the conversation at the office.
“The son of a bitch,” Terry said, his hands tightening on the chair. “You didn’t tell me all that.”
“Cool it, bud,” Jack said. He asked me about running into Rick at the market.
“When he grinned at me in that smirky little way of his,” I said, “I knew he wanted me to know he was watching.”
“But he didn’t confront either of you?”
When I told him no, he asked Terry, “Did you see him?”
“Not then, but later, when he drove by the real estate office.”
“Did he slow down or make any kind of a threatening gesture?”
“No. Just goes to show he wasn’t there for any real estate business.”
“But still, it could be argued that since he’s an agent, he had a legitimate purpose in being there, that perhaps when he saw you, he felt threatened so he drove on by.”
With each word Jack spoke, and from the tone of his voice, it became more and more apparent that we had no case.
“He’s going to get away with it, isn’t he?”
“If he’d made verbal threats, we could get him. Even if he’s too smart for that, we could still have a chance. Since the stalking laws were amended in ‘02, a person can be arrested for seriously alarming someone, but I’m not sure what you’ve described would even qualify for that.”
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“He’s doing it on purpose,” I said quietly. “I just know.”
“You’re probably right,” Jack said. “NVAW sponsored a survey—”
“Who?” I asked.
“National Violence Against Women. According to them, one out of twelve women will be stalked in her lifetime, and over a million are stalked annually. Some stalkers progress to violence, and I’d like to get this joker before he has a chance to do something nasty. Unfortunately, until he does something illegal, my hands are tied—officially, that is. Off the record, I suggest you protect yourself.
“Meanwhile, I’ll pay him a nice, friendly visit.”
***
Heading home, the I-10 traffic was light except for a line of eighteen-wheelers. Terry put the car on cruise control. “You have to get a gun,” he said.
“I have one.”
He glanced at me, his expression incredulous. “You have a gun? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged, staring out the side window at the shrubs and cactuses in the sparsely vegetated desert between towns. We were heading west and the setting sun washed the dried scrub with an orange glare. In the distance, the San Gorgonio mountain range faded in the late afternoon haze.
“I wouldn’t use it except in an emergency,” I said.
“What do you think this is?”
“A nuisance. A spoiled kid wanting something he can’t have.”
“Well, that spoiled kid is very capable of taking what he wants and no one knows that better than you.” Terry merged into far right lane. “You need some protection when you go out alone.”
“I’m not going to walk around with that gun in my hands, and it won’t do me any good in my purse. If someone grabs me they’re not going to stand around while I dig for a weapon.
