Secrets of Innocence

by V.

  “Now what? What’s wrong?”

  Alexander glared up at him. “I’m a loser. A fucking con. My life is a sham.”

  “C’mon, don’t be so melodramatic, you’re not a loser. You’re unique like me. We’re one of a kind.”

  “Unique? Ha! I lied. My lie to you and to me. I lied to both of us.”

  “No.”

  “Oh yes, my friend. Friend? Hell, I don’t have a friend. I don’t need a friend. I wouldn’t know what to do with a friend.” He struggled to get to his feet, but stumbled back to the ground.

  “C’mon, let me help you.”

  Alexander yanked his arm away from Danny’s grip, fell flat on his face, and went on, his face in the dirt. “Rainbow was a fluke. A fucking accident. I’ve spent the rest of my useless life trying to repeat a fucking accident.”

  “Your new novel is as goo—”

  “It’s trash. It’s fucking shit.” In a fury he managed to get up only to stumble again and collide with a nearby tree. He threw his arms around it to steady himself.

  Danny moved closer. “No, it isn’t. It’s good. I’ve read some of it. I like it. Hey, you’re bleeding.”

  Alexander’s tears mingled with the blood dripping from his forehead. “Don’t you get it? I tricked you. I fucking deceived you. Conned you. I’m nothing. You’re everything. You’re doing the magic. I’m a fraud. A fucking wizard with an audience of one.”

  Alexander jerked forward and began to heave violently.

  Fighting back his own tears, Danny looked away. He wiped his tears, took a deep breath, and turned back to find that Alexander had passed out.

  Danny rolled him over and shook him back to consciousness, got him to his feet and helped him toward the cabin.

  Ten minutes later, Alexander lay peacefully tucked into his bed. The gash on his forehead was neatly patched and Danny sat beside him.

  Alexander opened his eyes, recognized his surroundings and smiled. “What a clever boy. You saved me all on your own.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I smashed my head against a wall.”

  “Actually, you hit the ground first, and then a tree. No wall.”

  Danny started to get up when Alexander grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave... please.”

  He smiled. “Okay, but it’s late, I’m—”

  Alexander patted the bed next to him. “C’mon. Sleep by me.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Danny slipped off his shoes and crawled on top of the bed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep. But I’ve got to get home. It’s real late.” Alexander closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s been twenty four years since I wrote that damned book.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve written nothing since. Nothing.”

  “So what? A wise man once told me, ‘Don’t hold on to the past,’ and I quote: ‘It stinks.’”

  Alexander took the boy’s hand, sighed again, and closed his eyes. “Why do you have to bring up all the shit I dish out?”

  “’Cause I like it. Most of it, anyway.”

  “Promise you’ll always be here when I need you.”

  “Sure.”

  “It won’t happen, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Even after what I put you through tonight?”

  “Even after.”

  “Why?”

  “You were drunk. You’re in pain.”

  “It doesn’t excuse what I’ve done, what I’ve become.”

  “No, but that’s what artists do, first they suffer, and then they create. Something good will come out of all this.”

  Alexander smiled. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do. Give it some time.”

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then you’ll go on suffering till you do.”

  “Will you forgive me then?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll hold you to that.”

  Danny watched him drift off to sleep, gently pulled his hand away and silently put on his shoes. He turned off the light and sneaked out into the night.

  “Where on God’s earth have you been?” Conrad stood on the porch as Sarah made her way up the stairs. “Why didn’t you answer your cell?” Without waiting for a response he stormed into the house.

  Sarah dug into her purse. “I had to stop on the side of the road and—” she found her phone. “Oops, I’m sorry. I turned off the ringer to talk with Williams and forgot to turn it on.”

  She entered the house, shut the door, and followed her angry husband into the living room. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

  Conrad stalked about the living room like a caged animal. “Sarah, I’ve been more than worried. I thought something had happened to you. Tom’s out looking for you, Alyana is calling everyone, and I went as far as to call the Sheriff’s office and demand that Williams explain himself.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You were nowhere to be found, and look at the time. It’s the middle of the night for crying out loud!”

  “Sorry, I had to pull over. Alexander played an awful part of his movie as I was driving back home. I had no choice but to stop.”

  Conrad continued pacing and growling trying to defuse his anger.

  Sarah stepped toward him, but he raised his hand as a clear signal not to come close. She stopped and offered another apology. “I’m so sorry, I forgot about the ringer on the cell, and—”

  There was a knock at the door. Conrad strode past his wife and found Williams standing outside.

  “Hello, Mr. Thompson. I see that Sarah—Mrs. Thompson—found her way safely home. I’m glad she’s all right.”

  “Yes, thank you. Please come in. Sarah, here’s Sheriff Williams. Excuse me, I need to tell my kids she’s home. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Conrad grabbed his cell phone and stepped outside, leaving Williams and Sarah standing by the front door.

  “Please come in, Billy. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Don’t bother, Sarah; I’m relieved you’re okay. Where’ve you been? Don’t tell me you went off in search of that writer’s property.”

  “No. Come in, please.”

  “I really need to be on my way.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh. You recall I told you we found some keys near Daniel that night you found him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the keychain had a metal tag with the word Rainbow inscribed on it. That writer’s ranch is called Rainbow.”

  Sarah gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “I have to admit that you may have tapped into something.”

  “Are you going out there?”

  “Where?” Conrad asked.

  “Billy says Alexander did live in these parts. He’s dead now, but his ranch is called Rainbow, and the keychain found next to Daniel has the word Rainbow inscribed on it.”

  “You knew the man’s name?” an astonished Williams asked Sarah.

  “Is that his real name? Alexander?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah, his name was Alexander—”

  “Pitman?” Sarah interrupted.

  Williams nodded, and shot a bemused look at Conrad.

  “Sheriff, please come in. Let’s not stand out here,” he said.

  “No, I have to go. Sarah, I’ll call you with an update. Mr. Thompson.” He gave a quick nod, put on his hat, and stepped off the porch.

  Conrad escorted his wife into the house, shut the door and locked it.

  “Is Tom okay? Is he on his way home?”

  “He is, and he’s glad that you’re all right.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head inquisitively. “Billy? Sarah? You’ve made some serious progress.” “Yes, all is well. He’s no longer fighting me. On the contrary,” she added with pride, “I suspect that he’s quite impressed with me.”

  “What on earth did you do to bring him around like that?”


  “I told him about the images of him and his father.”

  “Why?”

  “Billy has wondered for years whether it was his bullet that killed his father.”

  Conrad froze and stared at his wife. “He actually told you that?”

  “Yeah. Turns out that what I saw through the rifle’s scope is exactly what Williams saw through his weapon the day his father died. I’d say I’ve tapped into his subconscious.”

  “Williams’s subconscious?”

  “Yes, but I got the impression that his bullet may not be the one that killed his dad.”

  “An impression?”

  “A very strong one. I’m not sure if it’s correct or not, but I told him about it.”

  “And?”

  “Well, needless to say, he was intrigued.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “My description of the event was so accurate that he couldn’t deny my abilities. It overwhelmed him enough to accept all of it.”

  She stepped close to her husband, looking up at him. “I’m so sorry I worried you.”

  Without hesitation, Conrad pulled Sarah to him and kissed her. It wasn’t a tender, gentle kiss. This kiss demanded submission and acknowledgment, and conveyed desperate need.

  Sarah surrendered without resistance.

  His hands frantically unbuttoned her blouse, seeking the comfort of her breasts. Kicking off her shoes, she opened his shirt and undid his belt, yet their lips never parted and their tongues remained intertwined.

  Her skirt reached the floor before his pants did, and he slipped off her underwear as his hands pressed into her skin wishing to absorb her very essence. She tried to reciprocate, reaching for his underwear, but in one fluid motion he yanked them off, and threw his socks and shoes to one side.

  He pressed her to him, his lips devouring hers, and without letting go, carried her into the living room, easing her down onto the carpet.

  He entered her with a desire she’d never experienced with him before. His need for her exploded in forceful shoves as he placed his hand behind her lower back, lifting her to him each time he thrust into her. His desperate passion, his need to fully possess her, aroused every fiber in her body until she shivered beneath him. His lips never left hers, their mouths exchanging the words they couldn’t utter but needed to convey, their love for one another confirmed by a passion impossible to contain.

  She took him in without reservation or hesitation, giving her soul to him as he gave his to her through the intimacy of physical connection, the union of one body entwined with the other.

  They climaxed together, their cries of pleasure intermingled as their hearts raced, and the joy of their fulfillment exploded. Then, in tandem, the convulsions of their bodies subsided, and their breathing slowed, until only their union remained. In perfect stillness, they savored the warmth of being one.

  They remained in their embrace for a long time, enjoying the tranquility between them, understanding the fear that had brought them together in this desperate act of love.

  After a while, Conrad rolled onto the floor next to his wife, his hand grasping hers. “I’m sorry I was so forceful,” he whispered. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

  She rolled onto her side, kissed her husband, and laid her head on his chest. “Don’t apologize; I’m the one to blame. But on the other hand, this was pretty damn spectacular.”

  Conrad slipped his arm under her and embraced her. “You’re something else, Sarah.”

  “Wait till I tell you what Alexander did.”

  “No. Not now. Tonight it’s you and me, and no one else. Tonight you’re all mine.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Sarah rolled the sheet of pasta dough in preparation for dinner. As she labored cautiously to create the perfect linguine noodles, the image of another sun-drenched Amaray day slipped in.

  Danny relaxed on his porch reading a book, a small baby blue blanket on his lap and a frosty glass of lemonade on the table nearby.

  Mrs. Foster strutted up to the porch holding a bakery box in both hands. She wore a tight pink summer dress that accentuated her womanly figure, matching high-heeled pink shoes, and a pink-and-white hat. Her hair bounced luxuriously with every step.

  “Hello, there, darling boy,” she exclaimed as she stopped next to him.

  Danny blushed and glanced around nervously. “Mrs. Foster, what are you doing here?”

  Shirley appeared at the front door. “Danny, what a thing to say to a visitor. Hello Allyson, how nice of you to come by.”

  Shirley stepped forward and extended her hand after wiping it on her apron. She wore a plain, loose, white linen summer dress with a blue apron and white sandals. Her hair was in a ponytail adorned with a simple blue ribbon.

  “Hi Shirley, came to bring some pastries for our sick boy.”

  “You didn’t have to bake for me, Mrs. Foster,” he said.

  “Oh darling boy, no, no, no, I don’t bake. I bought them at that quaint little store down the street. That nice lady who lives in that horrid imitation French cottage makes them and sells them to Mr. O’Connor. They’re quite good.”

  “Let me get you a chair,” Shirley offered. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll get it Mom,” Danny attempted to stand but Mrs. Foster caught his arm and pulled him down.

  “You stay here. You’re ill.”

  “But—”

  “She’s right, Danny, I’ll be right back.” Shirley disappeared inside the house.

  “What are you doing here?” the boy whispered.

  “I miss you. You do look a bit pale. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why didn’t you come to work?” she asked with a suggestive wink. Shirley returned with a chair and placed it next to Danny. “I’ll bring another for me, and we can visit. Will you have some of the pastries and lemonade, Allyson?”

  “I’ll take the lemonade. The pastries are for our sick boy.”

  “I’m not sick. I’m.. .not well, and I don’t want any pastries.”

  “Danny,” his mother scolded, “watch your tone.” She turned toward Mrs. Foster. “On top of everything else he’s got an angry bug, he’s been grouchy, and completely out of sorts.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Foster smiled. “He probably needs love, loads of love.”

  Shirley chuckled and disappeared into the house.

  “You’ve got to go, Mrs. Foster. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Danny, darling, how could I?” She reached over and grabbed his hand. He yanked it away and looked around apprehensively. “You’re going to get both of us into trouble. Go home. I’ll come tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Foster waved toward the sidewalk. “Oh, look who’s here.”

  At that moment Ellie, beaming with joy, dashed up to Danny’s porch. “What are you doing here?” Danny asked, irritated by the discomfort of the situation.

  “Gee, what a welcome. I only came by because I was told you were sick. But,” she said with a shrug toward Mrs. Foster, “he doesn’t look ill at all, only grumpy.” Shirley came out with a chair. “Ellie, how nice to see you. Here’s a chair, sit down.”

  “I don’t think I’m welcome, Mrs. Michaels.”

  Shirley glared at her son. “Nonsense. Care for some lemonade?”

  Ellie nodded, but remained standing as she addressed Mrs. Foster. “You told me he was sick, but he looks fine to me.”

  “You told her?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Ellie retorted.

  “I’m not sick, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “Then what are you doing on the porch in the middle of summer, covered with your baby blanket reading a book, instead of at the beach?”

  “Who said it’s my baby blanket? And what does it matter what I do with my own time?”

  “Now, now, young lovers,” Mrs. Foster cut in, “you mustn’t quarrel. C’mon Ellie, sit right here by me.” She patted the chair next to her as Shirley returned with a third chair.
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br />   Ellie sat down, arms tightly folded across her chest.

  “I’ll be right back with some lemonade,” Shirley said and left again. “How long has it been since you two were last together?”

  Danny shrugged.

  “Two weeks. Ever since I came back from my trip he’s been giving me the cold shoulder,” Ellie said.

  “So now the two of you are going to compare notes on me?”

  Ellie jumped to her feet. “Listen, buster, I don’t compare notes about you with anyone because there’s nothing to compare.”

  Mrs. Foster winked at Danny and took Ellie’s hand, coaxing her to sit down again. “Now, Danny, play nice. Unlike boys, we girls like to help each other. Listen to me, young man, Ellie here is a beauty, and unless you act smarter, you’re going to lose her to someone else.”

  Danny shrugged and looked away.

  Mrs. Foster went on. “Why on earth would you break up with her? You two were a much talked-about lovely couple until.. .when was it? Oh, around the time you started working on my garden, right?”

  Danny frowned, and Ellie nodded.

  “So what could possibly have come between you?”

  “Nothing!” Danny bellowed, jumping to his feet. He rushed into the house, almost colliding with his mother who held a tray of glasses. “Sorry, Mom. I’m going to lie down.”

  “Danny, come back this instant. You have guests.”

  His bedroom door slammed shut.

  Sarah sipped her wine and looked at Conrad. “That floozy is using him to amuse herself.”

  They’d enjoyed a quiet dinner at home with only a couple of candles lighting the table, while soft music played in the background.

  “I wish we didn’t have to spend our dinners talking about this darn movie?” Conrad protested.

  I m sorry—

  He sighed. “Don’t be. You need to share it and I need to help you. But after a full day’s work, I look forward to a restful evening with my wife.”

  “I don’t have to go on and on about it. Anyway, tell me about your day.”

  “Nothing to tell, really. Anyway, finish your assessment of the last movie installment.”

  “That’s it, really. That sick woman stole Danny’s youth.”

  “A tough lesson at an early age.”

  The phone rang and Conrad went to take the call. Sarah could only make out fragments of the conversation. Moments later he returned to the table.