Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  As Ted spoke, the words became like fire behind Alexia’s eyelids. She bit her lip. Ted stopped. Alexia waited.

  Her eyes still closed, she spoke, “Say it again.”

  Ted repeated the verse. Each word landed with impact upon her heart, and Alexia felt a confidence that the words were true, not just in a general sense, but specifically for her.

  “One more time,” she asked.

  Ted complied. Alexia listened intently, wanting to linger in the presence of God as the pressures of the finite world shrank before the power of words from heaven. The spiritual atmosphere in the room cleared. Tears of gratitude, not sadness, touched the edges of her eyes.

  The moment passed, but the strength it imparted remained. Alexia wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and kept her eyes closed tightly for several more seconds before opening them. When she did, she saw through blurry vision Ted, his face sober, watching her.

  “Thank you,” she said through sniffles.

  She sat quietly, letting the message soak in. In a few moments she spoke.

  “Is this what you’re doing for Baxter Richardson?” she asked.

  Ted tilted his head to one side. “In a way. I’m trying to be specific in what I play so that it’s relevant to his need, but the fact that my prayers are musical instead of spoken makes their effectiveness more difficult to gauge.”

  “But they’re real,” Alexia said with renewed strength. “I know it. Would you quote the verse one more time? I want to write it down.”

  Ted repeated the words, and Alexia wrote them on a blank legal pad.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Alexia smiled. “Go strip some wallpaper?”

  “I’ll be there all afternoon if you want to come by and help.”

  After Ted left, Alexia didn’t feel like working. She leaned back in her chair and read the words on the legal pad over and over until she memorized them. Her sandwich was cold now, but she didn’t mind. She closed the box lid. Something more effective than food had reinvigorated her. There was a knock on her door, and Gwen peeked inside.

  “That was a quick lunch,” the secretary said. “You left a minute before me, and I didn’t hear you come back.”

  “I picked up a sandwich to go at Katz’s. When I returned, Ted Morgan was here. He’s working at the King Street house this afternoon and needed the key.”

  Gwen looked closer at Alexia’s face. “Have you been crying?”

  Alexia nodded. “Yes. But Ted really helped me. He’s like nobody else I’ve met in my life.” She paused and spoke more rapidly. “Gwen, he’s the kindest, most sensitive man I’ve ever met. Whether that equals the ultimate romance, I’m not certain. He has what I want and need, but I’m not sure I have anything to give to him.” She sighed. “A one-sided relationship isn’t going to work in the long run.”

  Gwen frowned and shook her head. “You’re a special woman, and I bet he sees it. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “You’re prejudiced.”

  “And I know the truth.”

  Alexia smiled slightly. “Thanks, but it’s hard to figure out where he’s coming from. I’m not sure he thinks of me as anything more than a project.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “You’re making this too complicated. He’s a guy; you’re beautiful. He wouldn’t be normal if he weren’t attracted to you.”

  “I know he’s a man, and he may leave his dirty socks on the floor, but he’s one of the least self-centered people I’ve ever met.”

  “Has he kissed you?”

  “Yes. The first time was inside the church on a Sunday morning after everybody left.”

  Gwen clapped her hands together. “Then you’re practically married. Grab him and spend the rest of your life finding out what’s underneath the surface. Good men are scarce. The Marines may find a few, but I’ve never been so lucky.”

  Rena hung up the phone. She had to be at Sean Pruitt’s office at ten thirty in the morning.

  The lawyer didn’t seem worried, but anxiety would not leave Rena alone. She went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. The liquor bottles in the cabinet in the corner had been beckoning her with promises of better sleep through the endless nights and anesthesia for the fear and worry that plagued her.

  But Rena resisted. She’d suffered too much at the hands of her stepfather; four shots of cheap whiskey never failed to unleash irrational rage that sent all children scrambling for places to hide. Many nights she’d lain in bed pretending to be asleep as he stood over her cursing under his breath for what seemed like hours. On good nights, he would turn away and tromp down the hall to the room where her brothers slept. In a few seconds, she would hear the thumps of the blows raining down on them. Crying out was forbidden, but often her younger brother couldn’t suppress his screams. On bad nights, the cruel fists would strike Rena. She would turn her face to the pillow and bite the pillowcase so that no noise escaped her lips to fuel his wrath. Even when drunk, Vernon Swafford took care not to strike the children in the face. Clothes hid their bruises when they went to school the following day. Not until he went to prison did the truth come out.

  Rena didn’t think about those nights of eternal darkness. She’d filed the horrible memories in a place reserved for nightmares that weren’t true. The counseling she eventually received failed to straighten the place within her twisted and deformed by scars of the past. Baxter lying paralyzed in the cottage proved the potency of her stepfather’s cruelty and her failure to break free from it.

  The agony of looming failure drove Rena to the liquor cabinet. This would end. Now. No matter the cost. She would rid herself of this miserable life, of her miserable father and husband, of the whole miserable Richardson family. She picked up a small bottle of brandy and hurled it against the wall.

  The phone rang. The caller ID revealed it was Jeffrey. Rena calmed herself before answering.

  “What’s going on?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Not much. I need some more money.”

  “Why? I gave you twenty thousand a couple weeks ago.”

  “The police want to talk to me again about the car theft and the officer’s death. I need fifty thousand as soon as possible. I’ve hired a lawyer in Charleston. He’s very expensive.”

  “Fifty thousand for the lawyer? That’s ridiculous. You haven’t paid that much to Alexia Lindale for all she’s done. Why can’t she take care of it?”

  “She’s a divorce lawyer. Sean Pruitt is a criminal-defense attorney. He has to have all his money up front in case I’m charged and have to go to trial.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Stop it!” Rena interrupted, her voice rising. “Fifty thousand is nothing to you! Do you realize what could happen to me?”

  Sean Pruitt had asked for ten thousand dollars, but Rena believed she could pull off the deal over the phone. In person, she feared she would falter. She steadied herself mentally, watching the brandy slowly drip down the wall and pool around the shards of glass.

  “We need to get together,” Jeffrey responded.

  “There’s no time. I have to be in Charleston in the morning.”

  “I can come over now.”

  Rena bit her lip and looked out the window. “Will you bring the money?”

  “Yes. I’ll have a check with me.”

  “Okay, but I’ll only be here for another thirty minutes.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  After she hung up, Rena calmly mopped the pungent liquid with a towel and swept up the broken pieces. When everything was as it had been, she took out a bottle of expensive whiskey and poured herself a drink. She looked at the clear, amber liquid for a few seconds before taking a sip. It burned her throat. She took another sip. It went down easier. A third followed. And she felt stronger. Her mind cleared, and she had an idea.

  The receptionist brought a fax and laid it on the corner of Alexia’s desk.

  “This just came for you.”

  Alexia saw the cover sheet but di
dn’t touch it. “Thanks.”

  When the young woman left, Alexia picked up the representation letter from Sean Pruitt and scanned it. It was standard language, nothing fancy. She put it on her desk beside the verse Ted had given her. Even up against the reality of what lay ahead, the words from the Bible didn’t retreat. Alexia read both the letter and the verse and remained confident. She signed the representation letter and sent it back to Sean. After feeding it into the machine, she returned to her desk and spent the rest of the afternoon working on her cases. She hardly noticed the hours pass.

  Rena changed clothes before Jeffrey arrived. She dressed up to bolster her claim that she had to attend a dinner party and couldn’t talk very long. She finished a second glass of whiskey as he drove up the driveway. The liquor was already making her feel lightheaded, and she welcomed the sensation. She felt relaxed and beautiful. She flung open the door before Jeffrey rang the bell.

  “Come in,” she beckoned. “I’m off to the Nickersons’s house in a few minutes.”

  “Nickersons? I don’t know them.”

  “They’re new. Just moved here. I met Betty at the tennis club. She’s a fabulous player, and when she found out about Baxter, she invited me over for dinner to get me out of the house.”

  Jeffrey came into the foyer. “You look great,” he said.

  Rena smiled. “Thanks. Did you bring the check?”

  “Let’s sit down.”

  Jeffrey turned toward the living room. Rena didn’t want him to get too comfortable.

  “No, come into the kitchen,” she said. “I need to do a little cleaning up before I leave.”

  Jeffrey followed her. She rinsed her glass under the faucet for several seconds and put it into the dishwasher. Moistening a dishcloth, she began rubbing the kitchen counter.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  Jeffrey sat on a stool beside the island.

  “I’m willing to consider paying for your lawyer in Charleston, but there are other things that need to be done as well.”

  “I know.” Rena sighed as if talking to an incorrigible child. “Putting pressure on your father. We’ve been over this. I’m going to do it as part of the divorce proceeding. You acted like a jerk when I mentioned it, but it makes more sense to do it indirectly than to attack your father head-on.”

  “There’s no need to get upset—”

  Rena threw the wet cloth down on the floor at Jeffrey’s feet. It landed with a loud splat. “Listen! You either help me or leave! You’re not the only person willing to give me money for information.” Jeffrey seemed to jump off the stool in slow motion. Maybe it was the whiskey.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your father, you idiot! Don’t you realize he suspects you’re up to something?”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. He told me. I had breakfast with him at the Palmetto Club. Check it out with his favorite waiter. Robert, isn’t it?”

  Jeffrey didn’t respond, and Rena could tell he knew she was telling the truth. She relaxed.

  “He’ll tell you we were there,” she continued. “Ezra put eighty grand in my bank account last week as a dividend distribution to Baxter. He wants to put our past disagreements behind us and offered to give me a lot more money whenever I ask.”

  “But he doesn’t have a videotape, does he?” Jeffrey shot back.

  “I don’t think that matters. Go ahead, give it to the police. Then who will help you?”

  Jeffrey started to speak, hesitated, and then asked, “What did my father tell you?”

  “He’s suspicious, but he doesn’t know what you’re planning to do. He asked me to find out.”

  Jeffrey swore. Rena thrilled. This was the first sign of weakness she’d seen in her brother-in-law.

  “But if I wanted to help him, I wouldn’t be talking to you,” she quickly added.

  “What did you tell him?” Jeffrey repeated.

  “That I’d find out what I could. He doesn’t know about the divorce, so that will be a complete surprise to him. You won’t be involved in the divorce, so you can’t be blamed for anything that happens in it. Until Alexia Lindale files the papers, I’ll let you tell me what you want your father to know.”

  Jeffrey sat back down on the stool. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you will give me the money I need and don’t care if I divorce Baxter.”

  “And I have the videotape.”

  Rena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you want to think.”

  Jeffrey slowly leaned over, picked up the washcloth, and tossed it back to her. “You’re not fooling me, Rena,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “You can stop the act.”

  Rena stared at his face, but his expression didn’t waver. Her thin veneer of confidence cracked. She had no backup plan. If Jeffrey cut her off, she wasn’t sure Ezra would keep her on. She didn’t trust herself to speak and grabbed hold of a thin thread of hope—a vision of herself far away from this place, perhaps in California, free of this inhumane cruelty. Jeffrey continued.

  “You’ve always been a gold digger. That’s the reason you married Baxter in the first place. He was too stupid to realize what you wanted and walked into the marriage blind.” In a flash Rena tried to slap him, but Jeffrey grabbed her arm. California faded. “But I don’t blame you. You’re doing what everybody does—trying to find an angle to get ahead. I’ll steer some money your way, but I’ll be keeping closer tabs on you to make sure you don’t double-cross me. Since Quinton’s arrest, your guardian angels have been on vacation. I’m going to put them back to work, and they’ll let me know what you have for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and every snack in between.”

  “How?”

  “There’s technology for everything.” Jeffrey let go of Rena and took out a single check. “I’m going to write you a check for one hundred thousand. I doubt the lawyer in Charleston is charging you fifty, but I don’t care. Tell him the videotape is in a place where no one can touch it. You should destroy the copy I gave you.”

  He placed the check on the counter and quickly filled it in. He handed it to Rena.

  “This is what I want you to tell my father. Listen carefully, because I’m going to make sure you do everything exactly as I’m instructing you.”

  Rena nodded.

  27

  My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean’s edge as I can go.

  HENRY DAVID THOREAU

  Wearing her black wet suit and old dock shoes, Alexia pulled the little boat away from its mooring underneath her house and began moving steadily backward. Hearing a noise, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a white vehicle turn onto the narrow road that led to her house. Anxiety hit her for a moment before she realized it was Ted Morgan’s truck. She dropped the tongue of the trailer and waited. The minister pulled up to the house and got out. Boris left his post beside the boat and delivered a rambunctious greeting. The dog jumped up and added paw prints to the brown smudges dotting the front of Ted’s formerly clean overalls. The minister tried to brush off the new spots as he walked toward Alexia, but the mud merely smeared.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Launching my boat. Boris and I are going for a swim. What are you doing?”

  “I’m reporting to the construction-site supervisor about the renovation of the house on King Street.”

  Alexia hoped he could stay for a while. “If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to go for a boat ride. I may not be in the water yet, but Boris won’t forgive me if I turn back now.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Yes, by not getting in my way until the boat is in the water. There’s no way I can pull you and the boat.”

  Ted stepped forward and took hold of the tongue of the trailer. “I’ll lend a hand.”

  “It’s not necessary, and I don’t want you to get your boots wet unless they double as flippers.”

  Ted looked down at his scuffed but dr
y work boots. “I’ll be careful.”

  Together they pulled hard on the boat, and it shot forward toward the marsh, quickly gaining momentum. They reached the edge of the water so fast that Alexia almost fell down trying to halt the boat. The dark mud grabbed hold of Ted’s shoes and wouldn’t let go. He leaned against the boat and pulled them out, only to sink again.

  “This is like sin,” he called out. “Once you’re in, it’s hard to escape.”

  “And you should have followed the advice of your lawyer and avoided any problems.”

  Ted struggled back to solid ground. Alexia held the boat.

  “We have a problem,” Alexia continued. “I didn’t get the boat turned around so that the stern faces the marsh. I can’t get traction in this mud to push it backward far enough to maneuver it.”

  “Which means?”

  “You’ll have to take off your boots and let your toes revel in the mud.”

  Ted grimaced but didn’t argue. Finding a dry spot covered with grass, he sat down and pulled off his boots and socks. Rolling up his pants, he waded out to Alexia.

  “This water is cold. I don’t usually go swimming this time of year.”

  “Don’t worry, the piranhas are in hibernation. On the count of three, push on the tongue of the trailer.”

  Alexia counted, and together they backed the boat away from the marsh. Alexia stepped onto the sand and turned the boat around. Ted remained standing in the shallow water near a clump of reeds.

  “You can come out now,” Alexia commanded. “As soon as the boat is in the water, climb in the bow. Boris will show you how to do it.”

  She lifted up the tongue and let the boat slide into the water while she held on to the bow rope. Boris leapt into the boat and ran to the stern. Ted followed at a much slower pace.

  “I forgot my boots,” he said as soon as he was over the side.

  Alexia hopped into the boat beside Ted. “You won’t need them where we’re going. They’ll be here when you get back unless a family of crabs decides to turn them into a duplex.”