by Abigail Keam
Lillian is a forty-something mother whose life is miserable. Her husband hits her when he drinks and her grown daughter treats her as a servant.
Realizing that she is wasting time on two people who just don’t care, Lillian leaves her little family of self-indulgent narcissists in search of a more meaningful life.
She flees to Key Largo and finds the Last Chance Motel. There she heals from years of abuse. Hoping to begin anew, Lillian works hard to make a place for herself on the island of sun and play. And she finds new friends.
But it is not without cost. Lillian finds herself the victim of a stalker who is bent on making her new life as miserable as her old one. Only this time, Lillian is going to confront her tormenter and she is determined to win.
But it may cost Lillian her life!
Sometimes the heat in the Keys just brings out the meanness in people!
Gasping For Air
Last Chance Series 2
Abigail Keam
Worker Bee Press
Gasping For Air
Last Chance Series 2
Copyright © 2015 Abigail Keam
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author.
The characters are not based on you.
So don’t go around town and brag about it.
Any similarity to any person or place is coincidental.
ISBN 978 0 9906782 2 9
2015
The boat on the cover does not necessarily reflect a boat in the novel.
Published in the USA by
Worker Bee Press
P.O. Box 485
Nicholasville, KY 40340
Table of Contents
About the Book
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Also by Abigail Keam
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Bonus Chapter from Death By A HoneyBee
Songs That Inspire Last Chance Series
About The Author
Other Books By Abigail Keam
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my editor, Patti DeYoung.
Artwork by Cricket Press
www.cricket-press.com
Book jacket by Peter Keam
Author’s photograph by Peter Keam
To all the women who reach a certain age and need to save themselves.
By The Same Author
Death By A HoneyBee I
Death By Drowning II
Death By Bridle III
Death By Bourbon IV
Death By Lotto V
Death By Chocolate VI
Death By Haunting VII
Death By Derby VIII
The Princess Maura Fantasy Series
Wall Of Doom I
Wall Of Peril II
Wall Of Glory III
Wall Of Conquest IV
Wall of Victory V (2016)
Romance
Last Chance Motel I
Gasping For Air II
www.abigailkeam.com
1
Lil had just covered the bruises with makeup when she heard her husband park his car. She hurried into the kitchen and busied herself at the sink.
Bob entered the kitchen through the back door. “Hey,” he muttered, taking off his jacket.
“Hey,” replied Lil, washing celery.
Bob looked over her shoulder. “What’s for dinner?”
“I’m going to make some tuna salad for your lunch tomorrow, but I thought we could go out to dinner tonight. I’m tired.” She didn’t want to add that she was stiff and sore.
Bob made a face. “I’m tired too. I don’t want to go out. Let’s take a rain check for this weekend.”
“I really need a break. I’ve watched our grandson all weekend while you played golf. I want to go out.”
Bob shrugged. “I’m staying in and so are you. I want to eat soon.”
“Bob!”
Lil’s husband frowned, and, taking the paper, went into the den. He turned on the TV. “Get me a beer,” he called from the den.
Lil grabbed a bottle from the fridge, opened it, and took it into the den. “Bob, I want to talk to you,” she said, handing over the beer.
He took a swig. “I wish you had poured this into one of my special mugs in the freezer. You know I like my beer in a cold mug.”
“Bob, I want to talk to you,” she repeated.
“So go ahead and talk. What’s stopping you?”
“Can you at least look at me?”
“What for? I can hear you fine.”
Lil was silent for a moment, looking at her hands. When did they start looking so old? She tried to rub off some age spots before speaking. “When did you stop being Robert and turn into Bob?”
“Huh.” Bob glanced at Lil and then turned back to a basketball game on TV.
“When did you stop being Robert? I married Robert and then ended up with Bob. When did you become Bob?”
“That’s a stupid question,” responded Bob, taking another swig of his beer.
“Is it?”
Bob picked up the remote and flipped the TV channels. “I don’t know what you’re yammering about.”
“Yes, I know. You see, I don’t think we are the same people as when we got married. You’ve turned into another person. You are no longer Robert, the man I married. Robert would never hit me.”
Bob winced. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I just got mad. You were talking too much.”
“I seem to be talking too much lately.”
“Maybe if you shut up, then you wouldn’t aggravate me.”
“I see. It’s my fault.”
“This is silly talk. Take a pill and calm down,” he advised. “While you’re up, get me another beer.”
“I used to be someone. I was Lillian then. I used to march for women’s rights. I protested. I wrote letters to my congressmen. I had opinions. I used to stand up for myself. I used to be Lillian.” She glanced at her faded housedress. “I used to wear high heels and short skirts. Now I wear garbage like this.”
Bob shot Lil an irritated glance. “All this over not going out to dinner. Jeez. I cry uncle. We’ll go out.” He shook his head before returning to the TV.
“You used to love me.”
“Jeez. I still do,” Bob replied, still watching TV. “I’m trying to watch the game.” He yawned.
Lil sat for a long time staring at Bob.
“This is getting creepy,” stated Bob. “Are you going to get me another beer?”
“I think I need a vacation. Let’s go somewhere.”
“I hate traveling.”
“I’ll go alone then.”
“Yeah. Anything,” yawned Bob. “Get the beer now.”
“So it’s okay if I go on that vacation?”
Bob nodded. “Yes, please. Go somewhere. Rest up. You need it. In fact, I think I’ll take a nap myself now, speaking of rest.”
“I’ll get you that beer.”
“Finally.”
Lil rose and went into the kitchen. She took a cold beer out of the fridge and opened it. From her pocket she took two Benadryls, crushed them, and then dropped them into the bottle. She gave the bottle a swirl before returning to the den. “Here’s your beer,” she said as she handed Bob the bottle.
“Thanks.” He looked disappointed at the bottle. “It’s not in a mug. You know, the ones in the freezer.” He took a swig.
Lil stood watching him. She hoped she had not put too many pills into his beer, but she needed Bob to fall asleep quickly.
“I feel so sluggish,” murmured Bob, struggling to stay awake to watch TV.
“I’m going on vacation now.”
“Okay,” chuckled Bob. “Whatever floats your boat.”
Lil left the den quietly as Bob shook his head.
“Wo . . . men,” mumbled Bob as he nodded off.
Forty-five minutes later, Lil left the house with a battered suitcase, a huge roll of hundreds, twenties, tens, and fives hidden in her bra and a secret credit card in her purse.
Bob didn’t hear Lil leave, as he was fast asleep in the den with the TV blaring.
2
Lillian checked into the Pink Flamingo Motel located on Key Largo, the first of the big islands of the Keys.
“Your name, please.”
“Lil, Lillian. No. Jill St. John, I mean.”
The clerk raised an eyebrow, as Jill St. John was the name of the actress in the Bond movie, Diamonds Are Forever.
“How long will you be staying with us?” asked Eva Hanover, the owner of the Pink Flamingo Motel, aka The Last Chance Motel.
Lillian thought for a moment. “I really don’t know.”
Eva Hanover glanced over her computer and was startled when she noticed bruises on Lillian’s arms and cheek. She glanced back at the computer. “I see,” replied Eva. “Will someone be joining you?”
Lillian shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m running away, you see.”
“I hope it’s not from the law,” Eva half-teased.
Giving a faint smile, Lillian replied, “No. Nothing like that. I’m running away from my life.”
Eva nodded. “I completely understand. Been there myself.” Eva bit her lip. “Ms. St. John, if someone should inquire about a Lillian?”
“You’ve never heard of her.”
Eva glanced at the bruises on Lillian’s arm. “I understand. Since you are running away, I’ll put you in Bungalow Seven. It has a very nice view of the lagoon and the pool. You’ll enjoy the nice sunsets from your deck.”
“That’s very nice.” Lillian pulled five hundred dollars from her wallet. “I’d like to pay in cash please.”
Eva smiled. “Don’t mind at all. Here is your receipt. If you wish to stay longer, just let me know. And to make things simple, you keep the name Lillian. You are a friend of Jill St. John, who is renting Bungalow Seven and you are handling all transactions for her.”
Lillian gave Eva a huge smile. “That would make things easier for everyone, I’m sure.”
“It helps to keep as close to the truth as possible.”
Lillian nodded.
“Just one more thing. Since you didn’t have a reservation, can you tell me why you chose the Pink Flamingo Motel?”
“The sign. I liked the pink sign with the bird flying.”
Eva gave a brilliant smile. “I love that sign too. It’s from an old hotel built in the forties. I rescued it from a junk pile.”
“Well, it’s very cheerful and I need that at the moment.”
“I hear you. Hope you have a good stay with us.”
“Thank you. I plan to enjoy myself.” Lillian walked out of the office and headed toward her assigned bungalow.
Eva watched Lillian from the window. “I know that hangdog look,” Eva murmured to herself. “I hope she finds this place healing.”
Eva didn’t have to worry.
Already Lillian felt that a heavy load had been lifted off her chest. She breathed easier and though she was frightened, she was determined to rediscover the woman she had once been.
3
Lillian unpacked her old-fashioned suitcase and hung up her clothes. Looking in the phone book, she found a beauty salon that was close. Writing down the address, she gathered her purse and walked to the car in the brilliant sun. Lillian almost staggered from the intense heat. Getting in, she quickly rolled down the windows, letting the heat escape. Ignoring the hot interior, Lillian pulled onto Highway 1.
Ten minutes later, Lillian timidly walked inside the salon.
“Hello,” greeted the receptionist, wearing a tank top and shorts. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” answered Lillian, looking askance at the young woman’s apparel. “Do you have an appointment open now?”
“What do you wish done?”
“Everything, I should think,” replied Lillian.
The receptionist looked hard at Lillian’s downcast face and made a decision. “If you can wait a few minutes, we can get you in. Hmm.” She looked at the appointment books. “I think I’ll put you with Bitsy.”
“Bitsy?”
“Yes,” whispered the receptionist, leaning over. “She is our best colorist. You do want your hair color changed?”
Lillian thought for a moment. “If you think I should.”
The receptionist smiled. “When Bitsy gets through with you, you will look like a completely different person. You won’t even recognize yourself.”
Lillian brightened. “That’s what I want. Different.”
“We can do. Please have a seat. We’ll be with you shortly.”
Lillian obediently sat in one of the waiting room chairs while the young woman went over to a tiny woman with bright red hair.
They both glanced at Lillian while whispering. Even the woman getting her hair done by Bitsy turned and stared at Lillian.
The red-headed stylist nodded to the receptionist.
The receptionist walked back to her post. “Bitsy will be with you as soon as she is finished with her customer.”
“That’s very nice,” commented Lillian, wondering if she was making a mistake. Was she really ready for a change?
As if knowing what she was thinking, the receptionist remarked, “My mom has hair like yours . . . very fine. I made her go to Bitsy and she looks ten years younger now. She is so happy with her new ’do. She’s close to your age, but older.”
Lillian looked up from a magazine. “Do you get along with your mother?”
“Oh, yes. We are the very best of friends. We talk every day.”
Lil felt a sharp tug at her heart.
“Do you have any daughters?”
“One. She’s married and has a son.”
“Are you close?”
“We were once, but then she grew up. I just baby-sit for her now.”
“Oh,” replied the receptionist. She didn’t know how to respond, but then she had to answer the phone and left Lillian alone.
Lillian was glad she didn’t have to talk any longer. She kept sneaking glances outside, wondering if she should just get up and walk out. Maybe she was going too far with this makeover.
After all, she was a simple woman.
4
Bitsy ran her fingers through Lillian’s dripping wet hair. “You have very fine hair. I would recommend that we cut it very short.”
“What about the color?” asked Lillian, feeling very anxious about the entire process.
“You’re too young to go gray. Let’s do a pale blond on you. It will make your eyes look larger and stand out. You have very pretty eyes. They’re more golden than brown
.”
“Before my hair started turning gray, I was a light brunette.”
Bitsy screwed up her nose. “Dreadful. With your skin coloring, you should be an ash blond.” Bitsy turned Lillian’s head this way and that. “We’ll also do a wax on your eyebrows and upper lip.”
Embarrassed, Lillian’s hand flew to her mouth. “Yes, I’ve noticed that too.”
Bitsy leaned over and retrieved her tweezers. “And let’s get rid of those,” she said, referring to Lillian’s chin whiskers. “Hold still while I get those buggers.” Bitsy skillfully plucked out the thick chin whiskers. “So what’s happening? A wedding? A divorce?”
“What do you mean?”
“Women don’t want a complete makeover unless some special occasion is coming up or they decided to end a relationship. So which one is it?”
“An end to something, I guess,” said Lillian, flinching as hot wax was applied to her skin below one eyebrow.
“Don’t move, honey. This wax is hot.” Bitsy moved around Lillian. “Have any children?”
“One. She’s grown.”
“So are mine,” replied Bitsy while ripping off the cooled wax.
Lil bit her lip so as not to cry out. It hurt, but she didn’t want to seem like a wimp. “Do you mind if we don’t talk? I just want to relax.”
“Sure thing, honey. You let me do all the work. You’re going to love what I’m going to do for you.”
Lillian closed her eyes. All this asking about her daughter made Lillian think back to the last time she had contact with her only child last week.
5
“MOM! Did you give Trevor ice cream? You know that we are trying to keep him away from sugar.”
Lillian looked at her frustrated daughter. “I don’t think one little scoop of ice cream is going to turn him into a sugar monster.”
“And he tells me that he watched Old Yeller. You know that we don’t let Trevor watch anything that is disturbing.”
“Old Yeller is a classic and if Trevor feels sad that the dog died, then that is good. You don’t have a sociopath on your hands.”
