by Susanne Beck
Smart woman, my mother.
* * *
Ice finally got home an hour ago, drenched to the skin, but glowing with a vitality sorely missing over the past week or so, her eyes sparkling with good health and good humor. She refused to tell me what she’d spent the past half-day doing, figuring no doubt that I’d go all mother-hennish on her, but she did agree that perhaps a hot shower and a soft bed weren’t such bad ideas after all.
It was good to know my powers of persuasion still worked. And even better to realize that after six years, I finally had a handle on them.
After a shower and a sandwich that I hastily threw together, she went right up to bed, where she sleeps even now, bundled up tightly against the faint chill in the air which lingers even after I’ve brought the fire up to a respectable roar.
Fall is definitely in the air.
And so here I sit, guts churning, waiting for the knock that will herald Ruby’s entrance, replaying the words I’ll tell her over and over in my mind until they’re reduced to so much static, rendered all but meaningless by sheer repetition.
* * *
The knock finally came and I found myself rising to my feet, my knee sending out a warning twinge as I did so. I straightened my clothes and ran a quick hand through my hair, feeling oddly like a schoolgirl being sent to the principal, as I walked toward the door and pulled it open to admit my friend.
Ruby’s smile looked rather forced as she crossed the threshold and into the house, allowing me to guide her into the cabin proper and to a seat in the living room. "Would you like some coffee? Tea?"
"No thank you," she replied as she situated herself on the couch, not bothering to hide her frank head to toe assessment of me as she did so. Her eyes narrowed. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now," I answered honestly.
She nodded. "That’s good to hear."
The conversation, what little there was of it, ground down to a halt, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, I took several deep breaths and turned to my friend. "Ruby, I’m very sorry I haven’t . . . ."
She raised a hand, her smile slightly more genuine. "It’s quite alright, Tyler. I understand. I know what went on here."
Stunned, I looked at her. "You do?"
"Yes. I do. I had my suspicions at first, and what I’ve since learned has confirmed them."
I cocked my head. "Would . . .you mind explaining that, please?"
Her smile turned sad. "Tyler, I might be an old woman, but I’m not blind or deaf. Look at yourself, Tyler. You’re bruised and battered. You’ve been beaten. And Corinne looks the same way. She says that she fell down and hit her head on the table, but that’s not the truth, is it."
I sighed. "No. It isn’t."
She nodded sagely. "I know." Turning her body toward mine, she took both of my hands in hers. "I called your mother the other day, Tyler."
For just a moment, I forgot to breathe. "You . . .what?"
"You heard me. She told me what really happened during your time in Pittsburgh. How you told her that your husband had abused you and how you said you killed him in self defense. How you spent time in prison and were released on appeal."
Stunned was much too small a word for what I was feeling, and yet I couldn’t help but nod, confirming her words, suddenly feeling very small and very young and very trapped.
"Your mother may not be the most warm and open person in the world, Tyler, but I do believe she really believes what you’ve told her. I know I do. You’re not the type to kill someone in cold blood. That’s just not within you. I know that."
I smiled a little, relieved that she, at least, believed in my innocence.
She returned the smile, squeezing my hands. "Tyler, I knew your father quite well. He had this cabin long before he married your mother and spent many summers here. I knew what kind of a man he was, and could only hope that your mother would calm him somewhat."
"I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying," I replied, my mind trying hard to keep up with the twists and turns of her narrative and failing miserably.
"Your father could be a warm and loving man at times, Tyler. But he could also be worse than an enraged bear if something stuck in his craw. Many’s the time I ached to step in when he took that anger out on you. To my eternal shame, I stood by and did nothing."
I stared at her, conflicting emotions warring for a place in my body. Shame for a long held family secret let out into the light. Relief that it was finally being spoken of. Confusion, still, not knowing where the conversation was leading.
"Before I married my husband, I was a teacher. And one of the things that I learned was that, quite often, daughters of abusive fathers unconsciously seek out the same in a potential mate. It’s not uncommon, nor is it something to be ashamed of. I think you did that with your own husband. And I think you’re doing that now with your friend Morgan."
"What?" Tearing my hands from hers, I jumped to my feet so quickly that the room spun around me. Forcing down the dizziness, I stared at her, my eyes blazing. "I have no idea where you came up with this, Ruby, but you’re wrong. Dead wrong."
"Am I?" she asked, her eyes blazing just as brightly. "Both you and Corinne were beaten to within an inch of your lives, Tyler. I came outside just in time to hear her driving away and you screaming for her to come back." Her face set in stony, savage lines. "Don’t think me a fool, Tyler. I know what I saw."
"You are a fool, Ruby," I replied, feeling as deep a rage as I’ve ever known consuming me in red fire. "You put two and two together and came up with seven. I think you’d better leave before I do something we’d both regret."
"She’s taught you well, I see."
"Get out, Ruby. Now."
"I know who she is, Tyler," Ruby continued, refusing to budge a solid inch. "I know who Morgan Steele is. I thought her name sounded familiar when we first met. When Millicent told me that those police officers had asked for directions to the cabin, I knew my hunch was right. So I spent the last several says going through old records until I found out what I was looking for. She’s the Morgan Steele who murdered those children. The one who became a Mafia Assassin. The one who escaped from the very prison in which you were incarcerated. The one who tricked you into falling in love with her so that she could have a free ticket out of the country to escape justice. And the one who finally snapped under all the pressure she’s heaped upon the both of you and lashed out with her fists like an animal."
I was paralyzed by her accusations, by a misunderstanding so great that it could not possibly have happened. My mind was screaming out to shut her up, to tear her limb from limb, or barring that, to pick her bodily up and throw her as far away from the house as I possibly could.
But my body was dipped in lead, unable to move.
Taking my silence for something it wasn’t, her face softened. "It doesn’t have to go on, Tyler. I couldn’t do anything before, with your father. But I can now. I can, and I did."
That broke through. Stepping forward, I pulled her off the couch by the front of her dress, hearing the fabric tearing as I brought our faces mere inches apart. "What did you do, Ruby. What did you do?!?"
"I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago, Tyler. I’m putting an end to this mess. The police are on their way. You’ll never have to worry about her again. I promise."
"No." It was a whisper, but it carried the weight of the world behind it.
"Yes, Tyler. Yes. Finally. I’m doing this because I love you. Can’t you see? I love you and I want what’s best for you. So come with me. Please. You’ll be safe when the police get here."
"No!!!"
Pushing her away from me as if she weighed less than air, I spun around and tore up the stairs, screaming Ice’s name at the top of my lungs as I ran, tripping and falling and pulling myself up again.
She was already awake and on her feet when I bolted into the room. Turning away from the window,
her eyes were shining and sad, her face set in a mask of bleak resignation.
"Ice," I said breathlessly, running up to her and grabbing onto her arm, "you’ve got to get out of here. Take the truck. Go up into the mountains. I’ll find you when it’s safe. You’ve still got time. Please. Run!"
Slowly, she shook her head. "It’s over, Angel."
"It’s not over! I won’t let it be over!" I pulled at her, but it was like I was trying to move a mountain. "Damnit, Ice, move!! Now!!!"
Gently prying my death grip from her arm, she raised my hand to her lips and brushed a kiss against my knuckles. "I love you, Angel," she whispered. "Never forget that. Never."
"No. Oh god, no. Please, Ice. Please don’t do this." Seeing the blue lights of what looked to be a thousand police cars filtering through the trees, I shook my head in blind negation. "Please, Ice, don’t. Fight, damn you! Fight!!!"
She smiled slightly, reaching up to cup my cheek. "I am fighting, my sweet Angel. For you."
Pulling me close, she kissed me, long and deep, before pulling away and grasping my hand. "C’mon."
Believing that she’d finally come to her senses, I followed quickly behind her as she descended the stairs and walked into the living room where Ruby, once again back on her feet and wiping blood from her lips, stared at her with an intense sheen of hatred blazing in her eyes.
And it doesn’t shame me one bit that I wanted, with everything in me, to watch Ice wipe that look off her face forever.
Instead, my lover thrust me into Ruby’s arms, then stared down at her with a look more searing than the sun. "Every word you said is true. I am a monster. I am an abuser. I brainwashed her and tricked her into falling in love with me so I could get a free ride. She was nothing more than my hostage. A ticket. And you’d do well to remember that when the police start to question you."
Ruby sneered. "You don’t scare me."
Ice’s lip curled, displaying her teeth. "Then you are a fool."
Then she stiffened, her head turning toward the back of the house. "Get down."
"You can’t . . . ."
"Now!!!"
Effortlessly, she pushed us both down onto the floor, hovering over us both in a stiff, protective stance, her head still cocked, honing in on whatever she hearing.
The heavens opened up then, sending rain down in a deluge as lightening divided the sky and thunder cracked around us, shaking the house.
I heard it then; the sound of sirens as they closed in around the cabin. I struggled to regain my feet, but Ice pushed me back down, pinning me to the floor with her intense glare.
"Attention in the cabin! We have you surrounded. Come out peacefully with your hands above your head and no one will be harmed! Attention in the cabin! We have you surrounded. Come out peacefully with your hands above your head and no one will be harmed!"
"Stay down," Ice said, giving me a last, long look before turning away and starting for the door.
"Ice!! No!!!"
But she didn’t listen. God damn her to hell, she didn’t listen.
I struggled to my feet, nearly tripping over Ruby as she tried to restrain me and shoving her savagely back down to floor.
I ran after the retreating form of my lover, but by the time I got to the door, it was a lifetime too late.
The police swarmed over her, forcing her unresisting body to the ground and onto her stomach as they pulled her arms behind her back and cuffed them tightly, their guns drawn and pointed at her with malicious intent.
When they pulled her back to her feet, her beautiful face was stained with mud and blood. The front of her shirt, once a brilliant white, was painted maroon from the stitches which had torn open.
Like a man turned to stone by a vengeful god, I was doomed to stand and watch as my entire world was dragged off into the night.
It was cold. So cold.
And dark, like the bottom of a newly dug grave.
My whole body was numb; my heart, encased in a block of ice which promised never to thaw.
I could feel the rain around me, pelting down in almost horizontal sheets of stinging fire, driven on by the frenzy of an unholy wind.
A wooden shutter, torn askew by the power of the storm, slammed repeatedly against the weathered wooden siding, sounding a death-knell which rose even over the howling of the wind and the wailing of sirens. Sirens which, like the fog, crept closer and closer, not on cat’s feet, but on dragon’s bloody claws.
Lightening drew its spiky graph onto the sky, imprinting itself on my retinas.
Thunder cracked and rolled, pulling an inane thought to the forefront of my brain. God’s bowling with the angels again, my father’s voice said from somewhere beyond the grave.
And still I waited, blind and frozen like some immortal statue. Waited for the wind to cease its unending fury. Waited for the rain to part its opaque curtain.
Waited for a vision my eyes could not see. A vision my soul could not forget.
As if drawn into the clearing by the force of my unvoiced plea, still more cars came, their churning tires flinging muddy fans into the air. Their powerful headlights broke through the cloak of mist, illuminating the scene I wished so desperately to see from my frozen perch on the porch of the home I’d helped to build.
A home, a dream, that I would willingly leave, never stopping once to look back upon it, if only someone would take these scales from my eyes.
If only.
She stood there straight and tall, backlit by the artificial lighting; my lover, my heart, my soul. Proud back unbowed, head held high, eyes blazing fire.
Proud, yes. But helpless.
Not against the arms which held her, nor the cuffs which bound her strong arms, nor even the guns that pointed at every vulnerable spot in an otherwise invulnerable body.
No, not that. Never that.
Helpless, instead, against the weight of a past which had, once again, come home to roost.
Helpless against the weight of a love she had sold her very soul to nurture and cherish.
The look in her eyes is something I’ll take with me to the grave. A grave that, God willing, will not be long in coming.
Anger at her past for intruding. Rage at the arms which held her, at the guns which nudged her with their hollow silver noses. Sorrow, that the chance we had had ended much too soon.
And love.
Always love.
Her full lips parted, and I strained to hear her words over the storm’s redoubled fury. But even they were taken from me, just as surely as she would be, drawn away into the mist from which only endings came.
But still, I watched as those lips formed words only my heart could hear.
I love you.
And then a word came which shattered my soul.
Goodbye.
THE END
Well folks, that’s it for now. I’d like to thank everyone who’s come with, and stuck with, me on this journey. It’s been a great deal of fun and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading half as much as I’ve enjoyed writing.
Now, show of hands here. Would anyone like to see how they get out of this???
Sue
7/4/00
RESTITUTION
Disclaimers
The characters in this novel are of my own creation. That’s right, this is an ‘uber’ story. It’s also a sequel to my novel, Retribution, which, in turn is a sequel to my novel Redemption. (That’s right! It’s a trilogy!) You really will want to read those first before tackling this one. Some may bear a resemblance to characters we know and love who are owned by PacRen and Universal Studios.
Violence and Naughty Language Disclaimer: Yup, both. And quite a lot of each, to be truthful. We’re dealing with a bunch of ex-cons and assorted other nasty type people here.
Subtext Disclaimer: Yup, there’s that too. This piece deals with the love and physical expression of that love, between two adult females. There are some graphic scenes located within this piece, but I have tried to make them as tasteful as po
ssible so as to not avoid anyone’s sensibilities. Let me know if I’ve succeeded.
Dedication: Well, it’s that time again, to thank everyone who made the writing of this work a pleasure. It’s a bit sad, as well, since this will likely be the last we hear of Ice and Angel, but heck, it’s been a fun ride, huh? So, deep debts of gratitude go out from me to the following people: Carol "you’d just better have a happy ending!" Stephens; Elizabeth "Four" Baldwin, Linda "Lola" Lynch, Lisa "Sulli" Sullivan, and the rest of the Angry Beavers; Judi "you just better have a happy ending part deux" Mair, Mary "is the Pope Catholic" D, Candace "Theodyke" Chellew, the members of my SwordnQuil list for their wonderful support and feedback, my dogs Kricket and Pudderbear, and a host of other people I’m going to kick myself in the morning for not mentioning. Thanks guys!!!
Feedback: As always, is most welcome. It not only makes this ‘job’ of writing (which is really a love) much easier, it also makes me better at it. And that is my goal. To become the best writer I can be. If the spirit moves you, you may reach me at
[email protected]
with any questions, concerns or comments.
RESTITUTION
PART 1
TIME IS THE coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
My mother always loved Carl Sandburg. I don’t know why. Reading one of his poems has always reminded me of the smell of chalk dust and mimeograph ink and the droning voice of Mrs. Davis, demanding I come forward and recite his works "by rote, Miss Moore, if you please."
I never liked Mrs. Davis.
I like Sandburg even less.
And yet, without any conscious desire, I found that quote echoing through my brain as I sat on a high-backed wooden pew near the center of the very same courtroom where, seven years ago almost to the day, my life as I knew it came to an end.
