by JT Harding
Joe nodded. “Just be quick.”
“You know me so well already,” Jenni joked.
Joe shook his head. “Bad timing, honey.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She wiped as much of the dried blood as possible from around the wound, pressed a gauze bandage against his shoulder then wrapped more bandage under his arm and back around his shoulder. She tore strips from the roll of plaster and stuck it all down.
“Try and stand,” she said. “Lean on me and see if you can stand up.”
Joe put his arm on her shoulder and let her take most of the weight as he stood.
“Dizzy?” Jenni asked.
“Some.”
“Gonna pass out?”
Joe shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Good. Sit down again.”
Joe did as he was told and Jenni pulled a chair across. She sat and leaned her elbows on her knees, stared down at the dead body of her husband. Watching her Kim thought perhaps that ought to be ex-husband and giggled, some part of her knowing she was hysterical but unable to stop herself. She needed to be busy. She opened the first aid box and found Tylenol, shook two out and made Joe swallow them.
“I want you to help me,” Jenni said to her.
Kim nodded.
“Kim and I are going out for a while, Joe,” Jenni said, speaking clearly. “When we come back we’re going to clean that wound and check you out, and if I think you need the ER we’ll take you.”
“We can’t leave him,” Kim said. “And where are we going?”
Jenni nodded toward Mark, lying exactly where he had dropped. “His pickup’s going to be around here someplace. I’m going out and find it and bring it down. Take Joe through to the back bedroom and sit him up. Don’t let him lie down. Put plenty of pillows behind him.”
Kim felt dizzy, Jenni pushing her too hard, but she had no option but to follow instructions.
“You might want to put some clothes on, too.”
Kim smiled. “You weren’t complaining earlier.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, get a room you two,” Joe said.
***
Jenni found Mark’s pickup on the hill above the beach, drove down and parked as close to the house as possible. When she went inside Joe was sitting up on the single bed in the small downstairs bedroom. Kim had removed his trunks and he lay naked on top of the covers, Ami cuddled against his uninjured side, dropping off to sleep again, all the excitement too much for her.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he said, as Jenni came in.
“Damn. Kim, come help me get Mark into the pickup.”
Between them they dragged Mark outside and somehow managed to push him into the passenger seat. Jenni climbed behind the wheel and pulled the door shut, noticing how much smoother Mark’s pickup was than hers.
“I’m going to try and make this look like an accident,” she said through the open window. Kim leaned against the door, her head almost level with Jenni’s
“How will you get back?”
“I won’t. I’ll go home. I’m going to call the cops in the morning and say he didn’t come home. They won’t take me seriously, because he’s always not coming home and they know all about Mark, but it’ll cover us.”
Jenni started the engine but Kim stayed at the window.
“I’ve gotta go,” Jenni said.
“What about afterwards?” Kim asked.
“What about it?”
“You don’t need to stay here anymore, you know.”
Jenni looked at her. “I know.”
Kim leaned in through the window and kissed her. “See you soon.”
Jenni nodded and drove in a big circle across the beach and then bounced up the rough track.
***
Kim checked on Joe. He was sitting up in bed, his head back against a pile of pillows, eyelids starting to droop. Ami lay against his side, a trail of drool running from her mouth along his belly. Kim smiled and lifted her, took her upstairs to her cot. She stood for a long while watching her perfect daughter sleep, and a mix of fear and longing washing through her. She shook herself and went downstairs to start cleaning up. There was a lot of blood on the floor.
***
Jenni drove slowly through town, but it was after six Saturday evening and most of the shops closed early out of season. The restaurants and bars hadn’t opened yet or were quiet. She passed through town and headed up Lighthouse Road. After a mile it degenerated into a rough track climbing through short grass where sheep grazed. The track ran another two miles along the long spine of the island and then split in two. The right fork would take her down and across to the structure the road was named after. The left hand track petered out after a quarter mile at a rough pull in where kids came to make out and the occasional fisherman parked before climbing down over rocks to the deep water that ran fast here between the island and the mainland. There were no other cars and Jenni pulled up, left the motor running. Outside the daylight was almost gone, which suited her just fine.
Jenni stepped out and walked around to the passenger side, pushed Mark’s body across the seat. It took her ten minutes of straining, pushing, pulling and tugging before she had him sitting behind the wheel. She ducked in and placed his foot on the gas pedal. She didn’t suppose it was going to make much difference one way or the other, but she wanted to leave nothing to chance.
Beyond the pull in grass started, running downslope to a sudden drop off where the cliffs fell away. There were two hundred yards of grass. Jenni hoped it was enough.
She turned on the headlights, she was going to have to risk that much. It would have been easier if the pickup was automatic. She sat in the passenger side and released the brake. The pickup started to roll slowly forward. There was a low ridge around the edge of the pull in which would stop progress if she let it, so as soon as the truck was moving Jenni pulled the gear stick into second. It fought back, grinding because no-one was depressing the clutch, but finally the gear crashed home and she felt their speed increase. The front wheels hit the edge of the pull in and the steering wheel rocked, came back straight. Now they were running over short grass directly toward the cliff. Jenni glanced at Mark to make sure he was still in position and a scream rose in her throat. His eyes were open and he was staring back at her.
“Where are we going, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice completely rational. “I must have tied a good one on, I don’t even know where we are.”
Jenni froze in the passenger seat. He was supposed to be dead. She had checked, he was dead.
Mark turned his head to the front and stared without comprehension at the approaching cliff edge. Jenni suddenly pulled herself together, saw how close they were to the drop off. She fumbled for the door handle, found it without looking and pushed herself backward as hard as she could. She dropped on the grass, rolling away. The vehicle picked up speed, moving faster, weaving slightly as the front wheels caught hummocks and dips in the grass. The pickup was twenty feet from the cliff edge when the brake lights came on.
Jenni stood, cursing. She ran at the pickup, placed her hands against the tailgate and added her small effort to its progress. The brake lights went out, as though Mark was still unaware of the danger ahead, and the vehicle lost weight beneath Jenni’s hands. She stopped, watching as the front wheel hit a small rock on the cliff edge. The pickup jerked to one side and the right front wheel hung out over the edge. The brake lights flared again and the truck hesitated, rocking. The other front wheel dropped, the pickup tilted and even if Mark had his foot hard on the brake no wheels touched the ground now to slow him. There was a grinding as the underside ran across granite, and then the vehicle was gone.
Jenni stood breathing hard, heard a crunch as the pickup hit something on the way down, then another louder crash. She walked to the edge of the cliff. The pickup was on its roof, lodged between two jagged spears of rock, right at the edge of the water. The tide was dropping, but Jenni knew the sea around the island well enough to know within three h
ours it would return to cover the truck completely. It might pluck the vehicle from between the rocks, it might not. Either way if the drop hadn’t finished Mark off the water would. She turned and started walking back to town, angling away from the road, taking a direct line back toward the distant lights.
She arrived a little after nine. On the way across the hillside she kept playing over the emotions she thought she ought to be feeling and didn’t. She had just helped murder her husband – no, she corrected, she had murdered her husband, because he had been alive when he went over the edge. She might have stopped it then, but too many years of his whining voice, too many punches and slaps, too many wasted opportunities had stayed her hand. Had she believed Mark possessed an ounce of humanity she might have felt sorry for him, but she knew that was not the case. All she experienced was relief. Relief and a suppressed hope.
Had Joe and Kim really meant what they said to her?
Jenni was hungry. She scrambled eggs and ate them standing in the kitchen, the house around her different, silent, that tremor of fear which had inhabited it for so long missing now. She washed her plate, smiling as she remembered what had happened the last time she washed a plate. She went to bed and slept without nightmares.
At eight the next morning she rang the sheriff’s office and reported Mark had not returned home last night. She heard skepticism in the officer’s voice. It was a small town, a small island; they all knew Mark for the drunk he was, and Jenni imagined the man wondering why she cared enough to report him at all. She experienced a momentary flare of anxiety that the call itself might be regarded as suspicious.
“Look, Jen, I’ll put word out, and when someone finds him pulled over still drunk I’ll call you, okay?”
“Thanks, Harry. I guess he’ll turn up, same as always.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky, Jen. Maybe this time he won’t.”
Jenni hoped her laugh didn’t sound forced.
Sunday was her day for washing and she lugged the big checked bags into the back of her pickup and drove to the laundry. She was a regular, and Annie had kept her usual machine free. Jenni spent the next three hours wrapped in steam and heat, folded sheets, pillowcases and towels and dragged them all back home where she would spend the afternoon ironing.
She kept expecting the phone to ring but it remained silent. At just after four Jenni heard a knock at the door and when she opened it Harry Jacobs stood on the step with his hat in his hands and the face Jenni guessed he had worn a few dozen times before.
Chapter 17
They found Mark’s body inside the cab of his pickup. People were sympathetic, but Jenni read the truth in their eyes, read what they really thought – she was lucky to be free, lucky Mark had finally gotten drunk enough to fuck up big time.
Jenni was surprised how little emotion she experienced – no, not strictly true – she had no sense of loss, no sense of shame or guilt. What she did feel was a lightness in her soul. Freedom.
Three days after the news broke Jenni had Mark’s remains interred in the small island cemetery, strictly reserved for those who had been born on the island. The minister asked in hushed tones if Jenni wanted to reserve a plot beside Mark for her own use, not that she was going to need it for years yet, of course, but one had to think about these things in advance. Jenni suppressed an almost overpowering urge to laugh out loud, trembling as she kept everything buttoned up. The minister, taking her set face and the tremor in her hands for grief patted her knee. Jenni was wearing a short dress and the minister’s hand remained a moment too long on her leg.
No, Jenni said, finally able to speak, no need to reserve a plot, telling him she was unsure she was staying around.
When Jenni next went to the beach the Bradford house was all closed up, but a note had been pushed under the door of Kate and Tim’s place. Jenni opened the sealed cream envelope, found a note from Kim telling her she had taken Joe back to New York. He was fine, but she wanted a doctor to check out his shoulder. Kim had listed their New York address and three telephone numbers, a landline and two cell phones, as well as an email address. The note finished with a short statement: We love you. We all love you. Come when you are ready.
Jenni folded the note back into the envelope and pushed it in the back pocket of her jeans, stripped her clothes off and stood naked in the living room where she had fucked Paul and stared out at the beach. The sand lay deserted in both directions, the day ending, and behind the dunes the sun had already set. Darkness gathered and flowed toward the land over the water. Jenni turned, looked at her mismatched bikini sitting on the chair. She smiled, walked out the door without picking it up and ran down to the surf. The cold water was good against her body, against her breasts, and she stroked out far beyond the breakers, pushing herself hard until she ached deep inside and then she floated on her back and laughed.
When she returned full dark had crept over the beach. Jenni showered and dried, returned to the shadowed living room and lay naked on the couch and made herself come, using her fingers to tease herself, touching her breasts and nipples, stroking her hand along her belly and thighs, eventually pushing four fingers deep between her legs, thinking of Kim and Joe when she finally climaxed, shuddering and crying out.
Days passed and became weeks. Jenni returned to the beach every day as September edged into October, always at the end of the day as dark fell, and on every day but one the beach was deserted and she swam naked, reveling in the water against her skin, and when she came out she repeated the pleasuring of herself, returning home content. Not happy yet, because she was still working out what she was going to do, still working out what happiness meant to her. Although a certainty was starting to grow inside.
One of Mark’s buddies, Pete Simpson, surprised her one day by calling and asking if he could take over the repair shop. He could pay a little every month if Jenni was happy with the arrangement. Three weeks after the funeral and Jenni thought he considered it a long enough interval to raise the topic. He also made sure she knew he was available if she wanted someone to share her bed. Pete was married, and Jenni liked his wife. She told him he could have the business, made it clear that was all he could have.
The year dipped into those gray, dark mid-winter days. Jenni spent Thanksgiving and Christmas alone even though her brother had invited her to the west coast for the celebrations. On New Year day she lugged a suitcase out her front door and locked the house, took her rusty old pickup into town and stopped on the main street, walked into Mary Andrews realty shop.
“Hey, Jen, you’ve been a stranger.”
“I want you to put the house on the market.” Jenni sat on the soft leather chair across from Mary’s desk, dropped the bunch of keys on the polished surface.
Mary stared at her. They had been good friends once, a long time ago, before Mark started deciding who Jenni could be friends with. Mary was three years older than Jenni, married with two kids and a husband who was devoted to them all.
“Where you going?” Mary not attempting to talk her out of anything.
“Not sure yet. Away.”
“I don’t know how much you’ll get for the place. Is there anything outstanding?”
“Free and clear. The insurance paid everything off. And I don’t mind what you get. I don’t want to live here anymore.”
Mary steepled her fingers, elbows on the desktop, and Jenni wondered what she was seeing. Not a grieving widow, for sure.
“You want coffee while we work this out?”
“Sure.”
An hour later Jenni parked the pickup at the harbor and sat outside waiting for the ferry. Ten minutes before five. She wouldn’t have long to wait and she watched the gulls fight over scraps from the fishing boats, the odor of rotting fish drifting over her but she hardly noticed; the smell defined this side the island and she had grown used to it.
At a quarter after five she stood at the rail as the ferry pulled out. Jenni looked ahead toward the mainland. She didn’t glance back once at wha
t she was leaving.
***
Jenni knew she should have called first, but had been too scared. As she stepped from the cab in front of the apartment block across from Central Park a surge of nerves ran through her. Before she could change her mind she paid the cab and lugged her small suitcase to the wide glass doors. A doorman nodded and opened the door for her. Inside Jenni was directed to the twentieth floor. The elevator opened on a small entrance lobby with a single door. Jenni pressed the buzzer and waited. She waited a minute then pressed the buzzer again.
Should have called, she thought once more.
She tried a third time, the nerves replaced by uncertainty. She was turning away when the door swung wide and Kim came out and hugged her.
“Fuck Jen, you sure took your time girl.” Kim kissed her, not the kiss of a friend meeting up after an absence, but the kiss of a lover promising more.
“I wasn’t sure whether to call.”
“You look gorgeous. Come in.”
Jenni followed Kim into a wide hallway. At the far end a dark oak door stood open to a large living room, tall windows facing out over the park.
“Drop your bag, babe, and come through. This deserves a drink.”
“You’re drinking?” Jenni asked.
Kim laughed. “I tried to keep going as long as I could, but in the end Ami wanted more than I could supply.”
As they entered the airy room Jenni saw Ami standing inside a wooden playpen, standing with her fists gripping the bars. When she caught sight of Jenni her face broke into a huge grin.
“Ah-ah-ahh!” she shouted.
“She’s missed you,” Kim said.
“I’ve missed her too. Missed you all,” Jenni said, getting it out before her courage deserted her. “How’s Joe now?”
“Joe’s good. But he’s not here. He’s on that book tour.”
“He’s well enough for that?”
“So he says. You know he never listens to anything I saw to him. I wanted him to cry off but she said he had to go. And they fixed his shoulder up fine, so there was no reason to postpone.” While she spoke Kim poured a glass of white wine for them both, handed one to Jenni.
