Love Lies Bleeding: A Novel Part 2
"Mom," he argued in a determined voice, "it's just a job. I won't be partying with Teddy and his friends."
"You'd better not," she said with a quick nod. "The Brightons have always let Teddy run wild, and I'm not-"
"Look," he interrupted, "it's not only a chance to make money with the band. Mr. Brighton's got connections and-"
Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of connections?"
Caleb dropped his head and wouldn't look at her. "With a recording studio in Minneapolis," he mumbled.
Exasperated, she crossed the kitchen and, grabbing the dishcloth, began to furiously wipe off the counter again. "It's a pipe dream. For every band that makes it, thousands don't. I'm not going to let you throw away your education to go chasing after something that'll never happen."
His head shot up. "You mean like you did?"
Tossing the cloth in the sink, she whirled on him. "Yes. Exactly like me."
"But I'm good, Mom, really good." Lifting his chin, he looked her square in the eye. "Even Mr. Thorpe says so, and you know how picky he is."
"I should've never sent you to him for piano lessons," she muttered.
"Wouldn't have made a difference. Mr. Thorpe didn't teach me guitar. I taught myself," he replied defensively. "I can do it, Mom, I know I can. Just because you didn't make it as a model in New York doesn't mean I won't make it as a musician. It's different!"
Fisting her hands on her hips, Anne glared at him. "We're not going to discuss this now," she insisted. "You still have another year of high school. You need to focus on school."
A mutinous look pinched Caleb's face. G.o.d, she thought, he's so young. He doesn't have a clue. He doesn't understand how life can chew you up and spit you out.
"I don't want to argue," she said, pa.s.sing a hand across her forehead. Dropping it, she turned and opened a cupboard door. "Dang it, I forgot bread." With a sigh, she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and fished out her car keys. "I've got to run down to Dunlap's," she said, referring to the small country store and gas station located two miles from the lake. "I'll be back in a minute." She glanced over her shoulder at Caleb, leaning against the counter, and stopped.
His face still wore a defiant expression and his eyes were angry and hard. Without a word, he shoved away from the counter and brushed past her as he strode into the living room. A moment later, the TV blared.
The argument with Caleb still troubled Anne as she pulled her car into the small parking lot at Dunlap's and stopped. She hated fighting with him, but she couldn't let him pursue this c.o.c.keyed dream. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she took several deep breaths. She had to play it smart. She knew from experience that the more she ha.s.sled him about going to college, the harder he'd resist her. It had been so much easier when he was four and she was bigger than him. When he didn't listen to her, all she had to do was give him a "time-out." Unfortunately, time-outs didn't work so well with eighteen-year-olds. The sudden image of Caleb's now-lanky frame folded onto his little desk chair that he'd used as a kid made her smile.
Raising her head, she shut off the car and pocketed the keys. They'd work it out. Somehow she'd figure out a way to show him the foolishness of his plan. Somehow she'd convince him her way was better.
The sound of cars whizzing by caught Anne's attention.
Dunlap's sat at the intersection of two main highways. Head north and you'd wind up in Duluth . . . head west and you'd find yourself in North Dakota. It was a prime location and Esther Dunlap made the most of it. A grocery store/motel/gas station; she fleeced not only the local residents and vacationers with her inflated prices, but also weary travelers by offering something other than convenience-store fare. Homemade sandwiches, pastries, fresh baked pies, premium ice cream. So what if you paid twice what you would in a larger town? So what if the gas was at least a nickel more than at the Sh.e.l.l station twenty miles down the road? Esther had a corner on the market and she knew it.
The gas station/grocery store sat in a graveled parking lot, with the motel sitting by itself a few yards away. Around to the back of the five units, there was a view of a small bay, located just off the main part of the lake. The Dunlaps-Esther and her son, Edward-lived on the second floor of the main building, right above the grocery store. Very little mention was ever made of Mr. Dunlap, who had died when Edward was a baby. According to rumors, Esther felt he had served his purpose by providing her with a son, and once he was gone, there was no need to ever think of him again.
Anne exited the car and crossed the parking lot, past the two gasoline pumps. Mounting the steps of the wide porch that surrounded the building, she paused at the doorway to let a couple of vacationers pa.s.s by on their way out of the store. She acknowledged them with a small smile and a nod. Once inside, she immediately saw Esther on her perch behind the counter.
Like a queen surveying her kingdom, Esther kept a sharp eye on all the customers milling about the store. G.o.d forbid someone should rip her off by taking a five-finger discount on any of her goods. Anne watched Esther lean forward on her stool and her face tighten when she spotted the Baxter twins, a pair of towheaded eight-year-olds who were perusing the candy bars. Her fixed look stayed on them until they moved away and joined their parents in the next aisle. Crossing her arms over her ample chest, she settled her short, squat body on her perch before focusing on the next potential thief.
On her way to the shelves holding the bread, Anne noticed Kimberly Brighton, Teddy's mother, and her mother-in-law, Irene. Not wanting to engage in conversation, she looked quickly away, but not before taking in how Kimberly was dressed. It was Sat.u.r.day morning at the lake, yet Kimberly looked as if she'd been at a spa. Her whole look was polished, and Anne knew that her simple, tailored blouse probably cost more than Anne's monthly grocery budget. Add in her Capris, gold bracelets jangling at her wrist, and woven leather sandals, and Anne could make her car payment with the money that woman was wearing. She looked down at her own clothes-T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops picked up on sale at Walmart. Nope, nothing polished about her.
With a wry grin, she snagged a loaf of bread and wove her way past the other customers to the counter.
"Will this be all?" Esther asked, picking up the bread. "Don't you need anything else?"
Not likely, Anne thought sarcastically. Like she'd part with any more of her hard-earned money on Esther's overpriced wares.
Giving her a bright smile, Anne ignored Esther's obvious disappointment. "Nope, this is it."
"Well then." From behind her thick gla.s.ses, Esther's gaze fell on Anne's purse. "I'm sure you'd like to settle your charges."
"What charges?"
"Caleb's." She reached under the counter and withdrew a recipe box containing sales tickets. After thumbing through them for a moment, she pulled one out. "Here it is. For ten gallons of gas, a box of Ho Hos, and a Mountain Dew."
"May I see that, please?"
Reluctantly Esther handed over the yellow sales slip.
As Anne skimmed the spidery writing, her heart sank. Forty dollars out of a weekly budget that was already stretched too far. She stopped at the last charge. "What's the extra five dollars for?"
"Service charge."
"You tack on-" Anne stopped herself. It was pointless to argue with Esther about the bill, but wait until she got home . . . Caleb would hear about running up charges without her permission.
Anne extracted the money from her billfold and handed it to Esther. "I'll talk to Caleb, but from now on, I don't want him charging."
"That's between you and him," Esther said as she swiftly hit the b.u.t.tons on the antique cash register, ringing up Anne's total. "I hear you have a new patient."
"Yes."
"You're not still working at the hospital?"
Tugging on her bottom lip, Anne's gaze fell to the counter. Everyone around the lake had heard of the layoffs at the hospital and she knew Esther was no exception. Esther must want the details, but Anne had no intention of giving them to her.
Raising her head, she met Esther's speculative look head-on. "I'll be going back this fall," she replied curtly as she mentally crossed her fingers.
"Good thing you have a new job, isn't it?" Esther asked, sacking the loaf of bread. Pushing her gla.s.ses up on her nose, she leaned against the counter and angled her head. "Jane McGill said that your new patient is staying at the old Jones place."
From behind her, Anne heard a gasp. She glanced over her shoulder to see Irene Brighton glaring at them. Looking back at Esther, she watched as the woman's attention traveled to Irene. A small satisfied smirk hovered at the corner of her mouth. "That cabin's cursed," she said smugly. She paused dramatically, her focus never shifting from Irene. "If those walls could talk-"
"Kimberly, let's go," Irene interrupted. "I just remembered the last gallon of milk I bought here curdled within two days."
The smirk fell away from Esther's face as the Brightons strode past, the scent of their expensive perfume following in their wake.
Esther's whole face puckered as she stared at their retreating backs. "Uppity woman. She's not half as good as she thinks she is," she muttered, shoving the sack across the counter.
Choosing not to respond, Anne took the bag and made her own way out of the store. Just like everyone else living in the small lake community, she'd heard the stories. Heard all about Blanche Jones and her wild ways . . . the parties . . . the affairs, but my G.o.d, it had all happened years ago. Blanche was long gone. According to gossip, she'd run off with one of her lovers, abandoning her much older husband, Harley. A short time later, he'd left the lake, too, after selling the cabin to an insurance agent in Pardo who'd used it as a rental property off and on ever since.
As Anne stepped off the porch, she caught sight of a red shirt ducking around the corner of the building.
"Edward," she called out as she rushed after him. "Wait."
Rounding the side of the grocery store, she saw Edward patiently waiting for her. He stood with one arm clasped across his stomach, staring out over the water. Even at this distance, Anne could see the redness of the skin on that arm, the swelling, and the way his fingers curled like a claw.
He turned toward her and a shadow of a smile eased the lines of pain bracketing his mouth.
"Hey, I missed you on Thursday," she said, striding up to him.
Edward's gaze traveled down to the arm resting at his waist then back to Anne's face. "Sorry I stood you up for my appointment. Mother had a long to-do list and I couldn't get away."
"Your therapy is important, too, Edward," Anne chided. "It helps with the pain, doesn't it?"
He turned away from her, watching a duck cruise the lily pads looking for water bugs. "Some, but after twenty-five years, Anne, I doubt there's a lot even you can do."
"If you don't think the ultrasound is helping, there's more we can try," she insisted. "Dr. Osgood might prescribe a nerve block or a drug pump. Maybe spinal-cord stimulation would help." She caught his eyes. "And if you'd consider talking to a psychiatrist . . ."
Taking a step away from her, he shook his head. "I'm not talking to a shrink," he said with determination.
"But, Edward-"
The sudden slam of a door and the sound of heavy steps crossing the porch stopped her.
"Edward! Edward!" Esther's shrill voice rang out, startling the duck. With an indignant quack, it took flight.
At the sound of the duck, Esther's head popped around the corner of the building. Seeing Anne talking with Edward made her jaw clench and her lips form a thin line.
"Edward," she said in a brusque voice. "Quit lollygagging. We've got customers waiting for that bait." Not pausing for him to obey, she spun in her sensible shoes and lumbered back to the store.
He began to walk swiftly away. "I got to go."
"Will you keep your appointment this week?" Anne called after him.
"I'll try," he said over his shoulder before disappearing inside the bait house.
Discouraged, Anne trudged off to her car. Pulling out of the parking lot, she couldn't get over Esther's att.i.tude. Edward suffered from complex regional pain syndrome, a fancy name for a disease that caused him constant pain. One would think Esther would support her son in his attempts to find relief. But no. It seemed all she did was interfere.
Anne shook her head as she turned down the lane leading to her house. Why? Was Esther afraid that if Edward learned to control the pain, he wouldn't be dependent on her any longer? She couldn't understand it.
Chapter Three.
Tiny points of yellow glow from in between the tall pines. One by one they flicker out as the night deepens and the witching hour approaches. Finally, the last one extinguishes and peace descends.
At last I'm alone in the dark.
No, says the voice inside my head, you're not alone . . . she's still here, waiting for you.
"Stop," I whisper aloud to silence the voice. "I'm not going to think about it now."
I cross the deck and open the screen door, heading for my private stash. A bottle of Glenlivet single-malt Scotch. I pour three fingers and swirl the deep gold liquid around in the gla.s.s. The rich floral scent fills the air around me. Taking a small sip, I close my eyes and savor its mellow taste. Content, I walk to the stereo and hit play. The poignant strains of Debussy's "Clair de Lune" soar from the speakers. My fingers move in time with each haunting note, as if I were playing.
A satisfied smile plays at the corners of my mouth, and after adjusting the volume, I return to my place on the deck overlooking the lake. Pulling up a chair, I prop my feet on the railing and tip my head back, letting the music carry me away.
Far, far away, coaxes the voice in my head. In my solitude, I can imagine I'm anywhere in the world except here. New York, Paris, London . . . cities with sophistication and cla.s.s, cities with excitement and energy. That's where I belong. Not here in the woods, part of a sleepy backwater community whose biggest thrill is a weekend fishing tournament.
My grip on the gla.s.s tightens.
It's not my fault I'm here. If they'd give me the opportunities that I deserve, if she didn't hold me back, I could be in one of those cities right now, engaged in witty conversation with important people.
My eyelids drift shut as the scene plays out in my mind. Me, at a party surrounded by elegantly dressed men and women. They're smiling as they hang on my every brilliant word, and I know they're thinking, My, how clever he is! Below us, the lights of the city sparkle, and in the distance, the hum of traffic drifts through the concrete canyons. The atmosphere is so alive. Electric. It energizes me and I see myself achieving every dream.
I open my eyes and the image vanishes. Reality. I'm not surrounded by bright city lights, just stars shining overhead, and the only sound I hear over the music is the call of a loon.
Silly birds, I think, downing my Scotch and standing. They say loons mate for life. The image of her battered face flips through my mind. Nothing lasts forever?
Chapter Four.
The thud of running shoes echoed. They were closing in. Part of her wanted to stop, turn around, and confront her pursuers. Tell them to go away and leave her the h.e.l.l alone. Another part of her-the one concerned with self-preservation-said, Run . . . faster.
She turned restlessly in her sleep, no more able to escape her nightmare than she'd been able to flee the parking garage.
Hands suddenly dug into her shoulders and spun her around with a force that made her head snap. The clip holding her hair in place smashed on the floor. Her Coach bag flew out of her hands and skittered across the concrete floor.
A young man, dressed in work pants slung low on his hips and a dark blue jersey, pressed his fingers into her tense muscles. "Hey, baby, whazup?" he asked.
Her eyes flew to his friends standing behind him. They chuckled. They all wore the same kind of pants. A couple of them had blue handkerchiefs hanging from the pocket. Their shoes had a Nike swoosh. But it was their eyes that made the sweat trickle down her spine. In the cold flickering light, their eyes, sharp and cunning, were the eyes of predators.
"Please, what do you want?" Sam pleaded, and tried to pull away from the young man.
The young man smiled as his hands gripped her tighter.
Wincing with pain, she stammered, "Please don't hurt me . . . I'll give you all my cash."
"Give?" He chuckled low in his throat. "You don't give. We take." His eyes caught the flash of her engagement ring. "Hey, this fine lady's getting married," he called over his shoulder to his buddies.
"Come on, man," one replied, shifting back and forth. "Quit f.u.c.king around. Grab the purse and the ring and let's go."
The young man holding her jerked his head toward his friend. "We go when I say we'll go." He looked back at Sam with pupils so dilated, his eyes were black. "I think we should give her a test run." He took a step closer and put his face next to hers. "Is that your car, lady?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear.