Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series)

by Martin Cogburn

  He opened the door and there she was, sitting at their oak dinner table, surrounded by pictures on the walls of horses, cows, and golden sunsets. When they had first gotten married, Misty had warned him that if he was moving her close to the city, she was bringing the country along. Well, she certainly had. The outside looked like most of the other houses on the block, but on the inside, she had turned it into something akin a barn. The facet for the sink looked more like a pump-jack. Rusty fencing pliers lay on an end-table. Propped in different corners around the living room was an old rake, an old hoe, an old shovel, some sort of old rifle, an old axe… an old axe? – Well, that was new. Other old gadgets hung from the walls, sat on shelves and were, in some form or another, scattered throughout the entire house.

  Anytime Jason harassed her about her idea of decorating, she would tell him to build her a real barn, and she wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. In all honesty, Misty’s country style had been a part of what attracted Jason to her in the first place.

  Misty was looking down at a single piece of paper with her back turned towards Jason as he approached. She had the fingers of one hand laced through her long, dark hair, pulling it back, revealing one of her ears. Seeing it made Jason want to sneak up behind her, lean down and whisper something sweet into it. His eyes traced from there down along the jaw line he wanted to caress, down to the lips he wanted to kiss, over to the cheek bone that he longed to feel resting against his shoulder.

  Thoughts of love and romance made his heart race, but when he got close and looked into her eyes, a sense of dread filled his chest. He wasn’t sure what, but something was definitely wrong. Instead of the spark that he had hoped would be there, a weary haze haunted her eyes. Jason had seen that look before, sadly quite often here lately. It was never good. His only hope was in it not being caused by something he’d done. He tried to recall if he had said anything that morning before leaving for work that may have left her stewing all day. Nope, he drew a blank. He had even agreed, without a terrible amount of argument, on taking Ken to the baseball game. It could have been caused by something else though. Maybe it had something to do with the piece of paper before her. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

  “My, you sure look busy,” he spoke warily.

  “I am,” she replied bluntly without looking up. Of all the answers and all the greetings and all the reactions to all the things he had anticipated, something so cold was not on Jason’s list. She continued to remain silent, showing that she wasn’t going to just hand over the information regarding who or what had put her in such a foul mood.

  “Is everything okay with your family?” he asked, the awkward silence becoming more than he could bear.

  Misty looked up across the table at the picture on the wall of her with her family, taken when she was about ten. “Yes Jason, my family is fine,” she sighed then paused as a tear rolled down one cheek, “but ours isn’t.” Her voice quivered, and more tears began to flow.

  Everything within Jason turned to ice, and anxiety filled his stomach as he stood there wondering what he’d done. “What’s wrong?” he asked after a few moments, a quiet and hollow tone to his voice.

  “Wrong?” Misty asked incredibly as she wiped a tear from her eyes. “Oh no, nothing’s wrong,” she continued. “I was just sitting here admiring the latest addition to our credit card bill collection. Isn’t it pretty?” she asked sarcastically as she held up the sheet of paper for him to see. She brought it back down to the table, her hand thudding against the wood and began trying to iron the crease out of the bill with her finger. It looked more like she was trying to dig a hole through the table. Without stopping her compulsive behavior or turning to him she asked, “Jason, why did you get another credit card? Wasn’t three enough?”

  She had caught him completely off guard. “I…I,” he stammered like a clown. “They were supposed to send that bill to my office,” he added like a fool.

  That got Misty to turn around. “Your office?” she demanded. The tears were beginning to dry from her eyes and were being replaced with resentment. “Was that somehow supposed to make me feel better?”

  Jason shook his head slightly, not so much saying that it shouldn’t make her feel better but that he simply didn’t know. There seemed to be a lot of things that he didn’t know. He didn’t know the answer to her question; as a matter of fact, he didn’t know the answer to most of her questions. “I just didn’t want you to be bothered with it,” he finally said with a sigh.

  “Not bothered with it?” Misty asked out of bewildered anger. “And I suppose you think that not knowing where all of our money goes doesn’t bother me? And what in the world made you think that we – excuse me, I mean you – why did you need a new credit card, Jason?”

  Jason looked away from her fiery gaze towards the wall. “I don’t know,” he answered defenselessly. He certainly didn’t want to tell her the truth, which was he had maxed out the other three. “It was zero percent interest for eighteen months, so I thought it might be a good deal.”

  “Might be a good deal?” Misty asked like she could not even begin to grasp such a concept. “Tell me Jason, did you think that the nine-hundred and eighty-six dollars and seventeen cents worth of stuff that you bought on it might be a good deal, too?”

  Jason didn’t answer, mainly because he still didn’t know what to say. Misty, on the other hand, was under no such handicap. “You tell me we can’t afford to have children, but then you go off and blow almost a thousand dollars on I don’t even know what,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Do you know how far that would go towards a baby?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she injected, “Well I don’t know either, but I’d like to find out.” She took a small intermission, calmed down a bit then continued, “Jason, we make good money, don’t we? I mean, you have told me the truth about that, right?”

  By now Jason had lost all desire to speak. Any kind of excitement and happiness he’d felt had been drained away. She had a way of doing that. He just nodded in response to her question, eyes still on the wall.

  “Where does it all go?” she pleaded. “How is it possible that we can’t provide for a few children?” She looked lost and helpless. Her voice had gone from being mean and accusing, to a sad and begging tone... plus the tears were beginning to well back up in her eyes.

  The imploring sound of her voice and the hopeless look on her face were pulling at Jason’s heart, but there was no way he was going to tell her that he’d changed his mind about children. Not now. Not after this. The previously rehearsed words he had planned on using to break the news to her crossed his mind but didn’t pass his lips. Pride was building. She had no right to talk to him that way. She had hurt him – hadn’t given him a chance to explain, but now she was finally beginning to show weakness, therefore it was time to settle the score.

  “If you knew I was such a loser then why’d you marry me?” he asked coldly.

  Jason expected her to be caught off guard and stammer around as she tried to explain that she still loved him and didn’t regret marrying him, but instead he saw a look of remorse and desperation in her eyes before he heard her half whisper, “It’s times like this that make me wonder.” She paused for a moment and wiped a tear from her cheek. “It feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

  Jason stood in silence for a moment. She hadn’t back-pedaled. He had to come up with something to say that would make it all better. “I do care,” he stressed. Okay, that wasn’t it.

  She looked up at him, and with all of her heart she earnestly said, “Then prove it.” Only three little words, useless when apart but, when linked together, they hold the essence of life. A word without an action is as dead as a marriage without either.

  There was a long pause as Misty waited on him to act or speak or something. Jason finally did speak, but in so doing, he drove a wedge of conclusion between them. “Well, I guess you won that one,” was all he said.

  Misty let out a long d
isappointed sigh. That, combined with the look in her eyes, said that they were reaching the end of a very lonely and sad chapter in the book of their lives. She lowered her head, shaking it as the tears flowed freely. She looked up after a bit, wiping her eyes as she spoke. “If I really won then why do I feel so lost?”

  When had her tears stopped having a softening effect on his heart? Not so long ago, a few tears and then bam, his hard heart would melt like butter that had sat too long in the hot summer sun. Now days, they just made him feel all the more distant from her. He hoped it was only a passing thing but, at the moment, he had no desire to wipe away the streams that ran down her face. He had no desire to hold her. He had no desire to tell her that they were going to be okay. He had no desire.

  Finally, Misty got the tears wiped from her eyes, rose from the table and said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I do know one thing – I’m through trying to figure it out. Go see a psychiatrist or something.” With that she brushed past, leaving him standing alone with her last words ringing in his ears.

  Chapter Two

  Jason felt like he’d wandered off into a page of history as he walked through the front door of the old, red brick office building. Antique wallpaper wrapped the room in a golden glow and wine-colored lace curtains draped the windows, giving the room an elegant touch. A claw-foot couch and several chairs sat uniquely arranged around the edges of an enormous Persian rug that covered most of the waiting room’s hardwood floor. Small bronze sculptures of former leaders, ranging from Alexander the Great to Winston Churchill, sat on small tables scattered around the room.

  He sat down beside the image of Churchill, giving the small statue an uneasy glance. Then, with a sigh, he sank back into the couch and once more began thinking about the previous night and the harsh things Misty had said. Why’d she have to blow up like that anyways? Sure, he shouldn’t have gotten another credit card without her almighty permission, but still, that didn’t justify her emotionally over-charged reaction. What had changed? Where was the woman he had fallen in love with, and what was the best way to vanquish the demonic spirit that had taken her place? These were some of the questions Jason had; questions he hoped to find answers to before leaving the fancy old building he was in. He had decided to take Misty’s last words of sarcastic advice… not for himself, of course. She was obviously the crazy one.

  Across the room there was an open doorway that led towards the back of the building. On the right side of the opening hung a sign that read, Dr. Throckmorton, psychologist - Student of the human mind. Jason swallowed hard and wondered if the good doctor had any idea how intimidating those few words sounded. Combine that with all the great men that stared down their noses at him from around the room, and Jason was feeling downright intimidated and jittery. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “Jason Hathaway,” the receptionist called out.

  Hearing the familiar sound of his own name startled Jason. Snapping to attention a bit too abruptly, he called back, “Here!” as if he thought she was doing roll-call.

  The receptionist, who was a middle aged woman, gave a sympathetic yet slightly condescending smile, observing him over the top of her glasses. Her gaze seemed to promise that he’d come to the right place for help, hope, and healing of whatever mental disorder plagued his little mind. “The doctor will see you know,” she spoke softly then smiled again, holding it several seconds longer than Jason deemed necessary, just to ensure her snobbish sympathy didn’t go unnoticed.

  Embarrassed, Jason wanted to run for the door leading outside but, instead, he composed himself, rose from his chair and headed down the long hall towards the back of the building. There was a door dead ahead that bore the doctor’s name, so Jason headed for it, wondering if he should knock or just go in. Not wanting to appear too bold or too timid, he cracked the door open a bit before giving a little knock.

  “Come in,” a warm voice responded.

  Swinging the door inwards revealed a chubby-faced man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, rising from a chair behind his desk. A jolly smile was on his lips, and there was just something about him, before he even spoke, that caused Jason to be drawn to him.

  “Jason,” the doctor greeted enthusiastically as he strode forward, hand outstretched like he was welcoming an old friend into his home. “It’s good to meet you. My name is Dr. Tomas Throckmorton, but for you I can be just plain Tomas.”

  “I’m,” Jason started to introduce himself but stopped when he realized the doctor had called him by name, “happy to meet you,” he recovered nicely. Accepting the doctor’s hand, he received a fervent shake and hard squeeze.

  In complete contrast to the waiting room, the doctor’s office was very modern. Warm soothing colors flowed together around the room, and soft light, glowing from several lamps, brought it all to life.

  “Would you like to do this the old fashion way, with you stretched out on the couch, or would you prefer the chairs?” the doctor asked, waving a hand toward two leather chairs facing each other with a coffee table in between.

  “Chairs,” Jason responded. “I spent all last night on a couch.” Dr. Throckmorton raised an eyebrow, seeming to ask why anyone would want to do such a thing. Jason let out a frustrated blast of air then said, “I wasn’t welcome in bed with my wife, Misty.”

  “Ouch,” the doctor said, wrinkling up his forehead like Jason’s pain was his own. “That doesn’t sound like a comfortable situation.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Not at all,” Jason replied with a worn sigh as they sat down. “I’d really like to never do it again. Can you make that happen? – You know, maybe get me some quick answers as to what’s wrong with her?” The doctor raised an eyebrow as he studied Jason, like he thought his client might be joking, prompting Jason to add, “This visit is for her, not me. She’s been acting strange here lately.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe if today goes good, I can try to get her to come with me sometime.”

  Realizing his client was serious, Dr. Throckmorton cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “So what caused the, um, the fall-out that led to you sleeping on the couch?” he asked.

  “I really have no idea,” Jason replied with an honest-to-goodness dumbfounded look on his face. “Every little thing that I do wrong, she just loses it.”

  “Well, tell me a little bit of the history that you two share,” Doctor Throckmorton instructed. “Give me some insight. It will help us get to the root of your problem.”

  “It’s a long story,” Jason cautioned, his voice low and somber.

  “Hey, I’ve got all the time you can afford,” Tomas responded with a smile.

  “All right then,” Jason sighed, giving a little smile of his own, “but I warn you, this isn’t the kind of story that starts with ‘once upon a time,’ and ends with ‘and they both lived happily ever after.’”

  “That’s all right,” Dr. Throckmorton chuckled. “If everyone was living happily ever after, I’d go broke.”

  Jason chuckled a bit, finally beginning to let his guard down. “Okay then,” he sighed, absentmindedly allowing himself to confide in this man who was practically a stranger. “Where do I begin?”

  “How about at the beginning,” the doctor prompted. “How and where did you meet your wife?”

  Jason leaned back in the leather chair and let his mind go back to the roots of their relationship. “Misty grew up in the Cañon City area on a farm,” he began. “After graduating from high school, she moved down here to Pueblo to go to the community college. Let’s see,” he sighed thoughtfully, “she started waitressing at an Italian food place down on the River Walk – where I, by the way, became a very regular customer. The food was great but the service was delicious… if you know what I mean,” he added with a twinkle in his eye. “I tried and tried to get up the nerve to ask her for a date or phone number or something, but I just couldn’t. I’d act real cute and flirt. She’d laugh but, then again, part of her job was to act charmed by stupi
d people.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Then my day came. She was walking by and, as usual, I was doing my best not to gawk, when she somehow tripped – I’m not even sure how – but she fell, dumping a half-eaten meal all over me. I mean, I had spaghetti on my head, peach tea and ice down my shirt and a half-eaten slice of pizza in my lap.” Laughing, Jason shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it.

  “And how did that make you feel?” the doctor asked… then grinned, posing a professional question in a jesting manner.

  Laughing, Jason replied, “I’ve never been so happy. Of all the people she could have spilt that mess on, I was lucky enough that she spilt it on me.”

  Dr. Throckmorton’s smile grew, showing that he was enjoying the story beyond a professional level.

  “Awe man, she felt terrible,” Jason went on. “She got out one of her table rags and started trying to clean off my face with it, and the whole time I was trying not to laugh. I know this makes me a terrible, manipulative person, but I told her the only way I’d forgive her would be if she went on a date with me. Well, she did and, as they say, the rest is history.”

  The doctor sat a moment, obviously intrigued by the story before he leaned forward. “Well, clearly that isn’t the end of the story or you wouldn’t be here,” he spoke solemnly.

  Jason let out a troubled sigh. “Yeah,” he agreed, rubbing the surface of the chair nervously with his thumb. “I guess no one comes here to tell you about what a great life they’re having, huh?”

  “Nope,” the doctor said before falling silent.

  Several moments passed before Jason’s desire to tell someone about his problems, combined with the increasingly awkward silence, finally prompted him to speak. “Well, um, things went great for a while,” he spoke uneasily. “We dated for a few years. I asked her to marry me. She said yes.” He paused for a moment, shifting in his chair before adding, “We had a great time for a while. It was… actually it still is just the two of us.”