Beyond the Quiet: Romantic Thriller

by Brenda Hill

  I scrolled through the channels and settled on an old Mayberry episode, watching as Andy and Barney grimaced after sampling Aunt Bee’s newest batch of homemade pickles. She was anxiously waiting for their reactions and they were groping for something nice to say about something so sour. While it was comical, I thought that was the way families should be—loving and supporting each other, even when it hurt.

  Just as I took a sip of tea, the phone rang and I almost dropped the cup. My heart pounded as though I was readying for battle. Or my execution. Grabbing the phone, I cleared my throat.

  “Hello?” From the other end I heard nothing but silence. A crank call?

  “Lisa? Is this Lisa Montgomery?” Jenna’s voice. I bristled. Just hearing her voice filled me with outrage.

  She cleared her throat. “I know you probably don’t want to hear from me—”

  “How dare you call me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I want to talk, mother-to-mother.”

  “What could you possibly want? You’ve already taken everything I have.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but—”

  “You’re sorry I feel that way? You stole my life from me. How else could I feel?”

  “I’m not calling to rehash the past. I want to talk about Marsh. Surely as a mother, you can understand.”

  The door opened and Terry walked in. “Shanna?” he mouthed.

  I shook my head. To Jenna, I said, “Yes, I’m a mother. I have a legitimate daughter, which is more than I can say about your son.” Feeling proud of myself for speaking up, I glanced at Terry.

  He was frowning. I had not expected that and was slightly taken aback. While I tried to read his face, he carefully set down his stack of books and sat beside me.

  “I have a favor to ask,” Jenna continued, ignoring my comment. “I’d like to have you meet with Marsh and—”

  “Meet with Marsh?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You actually want me to meet my husband’s illegitimate son? You’re out of your mind.” I slammed down the phone.

  “She wants you to meet her son?” Terry asked. “Why?”

  Fuming, I paced the living room. “Of all the nerve . . .”

  “So tell me. And stand still, honey, you’re making me dizzy.”

  Halting, I faced him, my arms crossed over my chest. I was so angry I couldn’t keep still and my foot tapped a cadence on the floor.

  “When I met her in Big Bear,” I said, making an effort to say each word without screaming, “she said something about her son wanting to know more about his father. If she thinks I’m going to sit that kid down and tell him about my husband, she’d better think again.” Losing the battle to stand still, I paced again. “I can’t believe that woman.”

  “I can understand how you must feel,” Terry said, his tone level, “but you might think about talking to him.”

  I stopped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Honey, growing up without a father can be a lonely existence for a boy. I know. You could talk to this child, tell him about his father. That might not be so bad.”

  “I’m sorry if Marsh will suffer, but I’m not going to talk to him. No way.”

  “Just remember,” Terry said, “what happened was not the child’s fault. He needs to know everything he can about his father.”

  “He has Stan and Maggie. Let them talk to him.”

  “It’s not the same and you know it. There are so many things you would know that they don’t, things that would delight a child. You must have photographs of Mac when he was young. Baby pictures, even.”

  “I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing.”

  “Ah, honey, don’t look at me like that. I just tend to look at everything a little differently now.”

  His words reminded me about his illness, and how all of this must seem so petty. I sat beside him and put my arms around him, laying my head on his shoulder. “I wish I could look at it like you, but I’m not that noble. I can’t even think about Marsh without wanting to smash something. Preferably Jenna’s face.”

  Terry chuckled. “I really can’t blame you. But, whether you like it or not, there’s a child’s future at stake here. You could help him.”

  “I guess I’m a terrible human being, because I just can’t do it.”

  “That’s okay. Right now you’re hurting, and you need some time to recover. When you do, I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  ***

  That night I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing the joy on Marsh’s face when Stan swung him to onto his shoulders. Terry was right—Marsh wasn’t at fault—but I still couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge him as Mac’s child. Especially when his very existence was an insult not only to me, but also to Shanna.

  Rolling on my side, I thought about my daughter and imagined how shocked she’d be when she read my letter. Why hadn’t I thought to call Leif so he could stand by? I could only hope she’d be okay.

  Snuggling next to Terry, I wondered if I’d ever forgive Mac and Jenna enough to make room for Mac’s son in my life.

  ***

  The next two days I stayed by the phone, but Shanna didn’t call. Even though she and I had cell phones, we each preferred the stability of our home phone.

  The third day I began to worry. Had anything happened? Had Shanna read the letter and gone into shock? After picturing her pale and bleeding in the emergency room, I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I called her.

  No one was home so I left a message on voice mail and called again later. Same thing. Where could they be? Then I tried her cell phone and got voice mail yet again. Trying not to panic, I checked the listings and called the local hospital. Thank God she wasn’t there.

  Next, even though I dreaded it, I called Leif’s work. I’d heard the jokes about tiresome women who checked on their husbands and boyfriends, so I’d never called Mac at the plant unless it was an emergency. And I’d certainly never called my son in law at work.

  After several transfers, the lead man, a Burt Larsen, after discovering who I was, told me Leif had left a few days ago to begin his vacation.

  “I think the family was going to the North Country for some fishing,” he said. “Actually, Leif booked the company timeshare near Brainerd. Want that number?”

  Even though I took the number, I decided not to call. No use ruining their vacation. If Shanna had a chance to rest, I wanted her to have it. There would be plenty of time later to sort out the mess. At least I knew she was okay—for now.

  The Brainerd Lakes area was a lovely place, full of pine forests and huge lakes several hundred feet deep. Once, while visiting the kids after they moved to Minnesota, they took me on an overnight trip to do some fishing and to take me around the North Country, so different from California’s Inland Empire. I’d loved the small towns and the highways lined with pine trees. I’d even loved the evenings when the smell of wood smoke hung in the air.

  Back home, when looking at Yucaipa’s scorched hills, I’d think of the cool, crisp Minnesota air and looked forward to someday living there.

  Having been raised in Minnesota, Leif was an avid sportsman; as Kyle grew older, he’d teach him how to fish and hunt, how to survive in the wilderness. I had to admit Leif was a good man, someone with infinite patience, someone who always gave excellent advice. How fortunate Shanna had been not to have married someone like her father. I wondered if Leif had seen Mac as he really had been, if perhaps he had guessed the truth about our relationship. Perhaps that was why he’d never said much when he was around Mac and me. I just assumed he was shy. If he had sensed something amiss, perhaps he would help Shanna to understand.

  ***

  Over the next few days I spent more time at the office than I’d had in several years, dutifully taking my turn answering phones and talking to walk-ins. Ed was always there, still plugging along, slowly building his list of clientele. While he didn’t dazzle Ben with his sales record, he managed to make enough sales to support his family
. I’d always preferred the excitement of showing houses and talking to a constant stream of people, but watching Ed, I began to consider that the methodical drudgework of keeping records and follow-up calls to prospective clients had merit as well.

  At home, Terry and I settled into an idyllic splendor that surpassed anything I’d ever dreamed of. Sometimes he had dinner ready when I came home from the office, and sometimes he’d take me out. On the days I felt tired, we’d order pizza and sprawl on the sofa and watch a movie.

  He seldom talked about his illness and I didn’t want to intrude. I admired the way he seemed to be able to set his illness aside and live in the now.

  A few times while watching TV, he’d become quiet, and I’d think he was absorbed in the program. One evening I spoke to him and finally had to touch him to get his attention. When he turned to me, his eyes had an unfocused, distant look, as if he were far away from my living room. Then he blinked and was himself again.

  I wondered if he had been thinking about his disease. Men were supposed to be macho, but was he fearful of dying? One evening I asked.

  “It’s not the dying I’m concerned about,” he said, his tone somber, “or even what happens afterward, if anything. What horrifies me is the progression of this disease and how it’ll affect me. Do you have any idea what it does?”

  Having already read every reference I could find on the computer, I nodded.

  “I’ll slowly become helpless,” he went on, “not able to eat, not even able to wipe myself in the bathroom.”

  Keeping very quiet, I snuggled close to him. Whether to give, or receive comfort, I didn’t know. Or care.

  He slipped an arm around me. “I’ve considered suicide—”

  Alarmed, I sat up. “No! You can’t do that.”

  “Well, I haven’t done it yet. I’m afraid of doing it too soon and missing something wonderful, like another day with you. But if I wait, I could become so helpless I couldn’t do it at all.”

  “You can’t even think about that, Terry. What if you committed suicide and the next day they found a cure?”

  “So far, the only thing that’s available is medication to help the symptoms. You know, this is an inherited disease, and I’ve thanked God so many times that I never had children. At least I can be grateful for that. I’ve wondered about Dad’s accident, wondered if perhaps that was his way out. I’d always cursed the fates that took my father away from me while I so young, but when you consider the alternative, maybe it was a good thing.”

  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 i
n 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 ahead. 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.