In such a numb state, Michael could only observe in silence. But then the plumber soon noticed there was company.
“Crap!” yelled Alex.
“What? What's wrong?”
“Your husband, I think.”
Amber looked over and sure enough, Michael stood motionless with a sad expression.
And how would you expect Amber to react? She said what any other cheating spouse says when discovered with a lover. “Michael, it's not what you think!”
If ever caught in bed with someone other than your spouse, don't bother with such an insulting statement. It only provokes anger in the person who is hurt. For Michael, it pulled him out of the sad, numb state as he growled in a terrible fury, “Not what I think? I come home and find some strange man, bouncing off my wife's naked ass! What the hell do you expect me to think?”
But Amber persisted, “I'm sorry Michael! Please believe me!”
As for Alex, he moved further and further away from Amber while desperately pulling up his boxers and pants. Excusing himself was not necessary. Amber's furious husband discovered another man screwing her. And although Amber's husband was an old man, there was the possibility that he had a gun. Aside from that, the company van was in the driveway with telephone number printed in large, bold letters. If Alex was lucky, the furious husband wouldn't have copied the information before entering the house. And wouldn't you know it: the solid hunk-of-a-man looked at the ground in shame, nearly cowered from Michael while passing by.
It was the last time Amber would see Alex. But she wouldn't run after him. Most important at that moment was her furious husband, who needed reassurance that what was seen wasn't meant. Naked, she carefully approached Michael, “I'm sorry, Michael. I'm so sorry! It's not what you think!”
Michael growled in return, “I don't want to hear it right now!”
Frightened, Amber ran past her husband and up the inclined hallway that led back to the wine cellar. Yes, she was naked; still in shock from being discovered by Michael. By the time she reached the bedroom and put on some clothes, serious guilt and regret filled her. She sat at the edge of the bed, and waited for Michael. She would take anything from him—shouting, insults, shoves to the wall or slaps to the face. Amber deserved it all! She had been such a bitch in recent weeks.
But Amber might as well have packed her bags. Sabotaging the wheelchair lift; scalding and nearly drowning Paulette; inviting a strange man in the house for sex while Michael was gone: these things didn't come close to the horrible thing that Michael was about to discover.
Alone in the cavern, Michael suddenly longed for Linsey. Linsey would have never done this to him. How Michael needed comfort from the woman who truly loved him. Time alone with her might have provided the strength and insight to handle the recent crisis.
Michael slowly and sadly descended the trail, passing every chamber and taking notice of the landmarks along the way. Linsey was with him now. Her words could nearly be heard in his heart, “It's terrible, I know. But she's only going through a difficult time. Remember when I was in my early thirties and got a little, too close to the butcher? We got through it, remember? This is worse than what I did, but you are older and wiser now.”
Perhaps Linsey was right. Amber married in her early twenties which might have made the seven-year-itch all the more difficult. Aside from that, Michael had been distant in the past couple of years, not to mention boring. Every conversation centered on money, business or investments. Idle conversation? Unless there was something constructive or had some practical agenda, there was no need to talk. Of course Amber would have resolved to outside companionship.
How fortunate Michael was to have Linsey watch over him. But what was this? As he entered her chamber, Linsey's face did not sit on the grotto and greet him. Instead, two of the devotional candles lay on the floor, almost pointing to the tragic aftermath of a messy murder. Linsey's long, beautiful, strawberry-red hair lay stretched and mangled on the ground. Only a portion of her forehead and scalp remain attached. Surrounding the reminder of what used to be Linsey were some dozen pieces of her beautiful face. Michael picked up a piece that would have been Linsey's right cheek, followed by only a portion of her upper lip. When alive, these two pieces were only a fragment of what would have helped create a smile, and possibly led to laughter.
Michael sorted through the mess, desperately searching for something that would have been Linsey's nose. The next recognizable piece was a corner of her right eyebrow and temple. And where were Linsey's eyes? In life, both eyes were the softest and most brilliant blue that could melt anyone from a distance. Perhaps seeing this could have made Michael feel better. At least he still had his favorite photos of her. But much to his horror, the pictures of Linsey that sat on the grotto were missing. All that remained were smashed picture frames. He assumed that the snapshots of Linsey's happy moments had been burned.
All Michael could do was lie on the floor, eyes closed with his head buried in Linsey's hair. How long would it be before memory failed him, and Linsey's face could no longer be recalled? He had other photos upstairs, but none stirred his heart like the ones that had been destroyed.
Loss of job, crashed business, terrible illness and injury, death of a close family member, or—even worse—death of a wife: there is a moment in a man's life, a turning point that alters him forever and usually serves as a precursor to old age. Whatever your poison, I hope that life makes it as painless and least-destructive. As for Michael, he lost the woman he loved so dearly not once, but twice.
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The story continues in The Tree Goddess.
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Tom Raimbault and the Creativia Team
Also by Tom Raimbault
The Tree Goddess (The Mapleview Series Book 2)
Sex Magick (The Mapleview Series Book 3)
The Death Mask Page 20