TouchStone
for ever
Sydney Jamesson
First Published by S. J. Publishing, 2014
Copyright © Sydney Jamesson, 2014
This book is a work of fiction. The characters in his book have
no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relations
to anyone bearing the same is purely coincidental.
Likewise, places and incidents are used fictitiously or
exist within the public domain.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied,
scanned, Stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, without the prior
written permission of the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British National Bibliography (BNB)
S. J. Publishing
[email protected]
ISBN – ISBN 978-0-9575850-2-7
To the people in my life who mean
The most to me, I thank you for
your love and support: Barry,
Jenna, Mum & Dad
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
Time is too slow for those who wait,
too swift for those who fear,
too long for those who grieve,
too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love,
time is eternity.
Henry Van Dyke
Touchstone: Noun: a basis for comparison:
a reference point Against which other things can be evaluated.
The Story of Us …
These past few months, I feel as if I have lived several lifetimes. I have fallen in love, travelled the world and changed my name; I have been face to face with Evil and come through the experience battle weary but alive.
Ayden Stone and I wear our scars like medals of honour; matching mementoes of a time when we did what had to be done and lived to tell the tale; each new chapter bringing us closer to this point when our love transcends even the powers of the universe. He is and always will be my saviour and my soul mate.
Our bond cannot and will not be broken.
Some days are better than others; the ghosts remain hidden, afraid to appear in the light but, when the darkness falls and I dream, that which I fear the most rises as if from the dead to haunt me, possess me and steal me away.
I cannot outrun it, defeat it or deny my destiny.
Self-sacrifice is my only weapon; I must wield it with care, for every deadly blow to the heart strikes deep, deeper than an ocean, wider than the sky.
Only my Knight in shining armour can save me… or, perhaps, we will have to save each other once again.
So, as I prepare to embark upon this magical adventure in search of my happy ever after, I invite you to look and listen, and let me conclude the story of us …
1
In a single thrust he enters me, swallowing up my moans as the sweet agony of his penetration has me convulsing. He rocks back and forth, widening the gap, making the outward movement infinitesimally longer each time until he is ready, once again, to slide into me in one stomach clenching thrust.
He growls with contentment. “Look at me, Beth.”
I open my eyes and see my husband’s features. All my senses combined serve only to seduce me into total submission. Through heated breath he whispers, “I love you. You’re mine.”
What’s buzzing? Is it in the room? Is it in my head? I feel as if I’ve been caught between two radio stations; I’m trying to tune in but only hearing white noise.
With absolute concentration I engage my senses until the distorted sounds disperse and reform into the beeping of a machine and gentle snoring.
Where am I?
My head is resting heavily on a pillow and turning to the right feels like a major feat, requiring actual mental effort to do so.
My body appears to be glowing with warmth; the balmy air in this hospital room is suffocating and the body heat radiating off Ayden’s hands around mine has me close to igniting. A centimeter at a time I release my fingers and raise my hand as you would a lead weight until it comes to rest on his left cheek. I linger on the bristles before weaving my fingers into his hair, gasping in horror when I see the extent to which his face has been battered and bruised. My chest hurts and tears form. I try to contain them as you might a pint pot overflowing with froth but …
My beautiful boy...
He stirs and I still my hand, following the line of his silhouette with my eyes. He’s wearing crumpled clothes and a white shirt that has been roughly rolled back to the elbows. His wedding ring is the only object to draw the light. It’s a reminder, if any were needed, that we are connected; that we have always been connected.
I leave him to sleep, letting myself settle to the sound of his slow, even breaths then open my eyes suddenly when I hear movement at the other side of the room. Fearful of what I might see in the shadows, I turn my head to the right, squinting until my eyes make sense of the shape sleeping in the chair by the window. It’s Jake.
Relieved, I allow my head to fall backwards into the pillow and return to that dark space devoid of sensory stimulus; the place where there is only warmth and the reassuring clutch of Ayden’s hand as it reaches for mine.
As the haze of half sleep is diffused by the glow of early morning light, I hear hushed voices…
“… I know you’re worried about her Ayd but she’s gonna be alright. Now stop with the fucking moping around.”
“Fuck you Jake … you don’t know what she’s been through. I should’ve made sure she had protection. That bastard was about to rape her. He would have killed her. I know it.”
I picture Ayden’s hand across the back of his neck, massaging muscles that have become knotted with anxiety and lack of sleep. I listen in, letting them think I’m still sedated.
“Look, if she wanted to go off on her own after you told her not to, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. Lester recognised the guy from her apartment block. He was dead set on getting her. Even that Bowker guy said he’d been stalking her. What a fucking psycho!” He pauses, thinking through what he’s about to say. “The last thing she needs is you on a guilt trip. For fuck’s sake have you gotten a look at yourself lately?”
I’d only had a glimpse of him and that was bad enough. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on silent breathing.
“Once she’s up and about you can take her off somewhere. She mentioned going on your honeymoon on the flight back.”
There is a thoughtful pause …
“She did? What else did you two talk about?”
“This and that.”
“Don’t play games Jay, tell me.”
“She knew about Alenka and … Elise.”
Ayden huffs. “Yeah. We spoke about Elise. Beth got hold of the video, you know, the one with you in the basement…”
“Fucking hell!”
“Yes. That’s what it was alright,” he states plainly.
“How did she get hold of that?”
“Elise paid me a visit while we were in Vegas and left the SD card where she knew Beth would find it.”
Jake is horrified. “What a bitch! And Beth watched it?”
“She watched enough …”
“Jeez! And did she think …”
“… Oh yeah. She assumed it was me …”
“And you told her it wasn’t, right?” He waits expectantly for Ayden to answer.
“I had to. It scared the shit out of her, thinking I wanted to be like that with her.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s not some twisted fuck who gets a kick out of being treated like that. Have you heard from her?”
“I told her not to call me but she does, around ten times a day. I don’t think she’s one to take rejection in her stride. She’ll be trouble.”
“I’ve got your back. I’ll have a word with her.”
“Watch your step, she’s a loose cannon. Why do you think I’ve played along for so long?”
“Beats me! It’s none of my business but why you even got involved with that bitch in the first place is a mystery to me. She’s got some major issues.”
Ayden sniggers. “I just hope she never finds out who Beth really is or that will be one almighty mind fuck”
“What do you mean?”
“Those pictures of the three of us at Bright Hill, remember, I showed you once?”
“Yeah. Now that would rattle her cage.”
“I won’t let her get to Beth. I have to keep her safe, or die trying.”
“You almost did that already, remember?”
“I tell you Jay, when I saw that bastard with her over a table …” He can barely bring himself to utter the words.
Jake is disgusted at the thought. “I’d have carved him up.”
“Yes. Well … he might have had something to say about that …”
“What do you mean?”
“He was a big bastard, you know. And turns out he was a boxer, heavy weight I’d say. He could box. He had me.”
“Fuck!”
“I watched as Beth played for time while I caught my breath.” He pauses. “She was like a rag doll in his hands and she still took him on. You had to see it to believe it, Jay.”
“She is something, Ayd.”
“Always was …”
There’s movement and I visualize a hand on a shoulder. “Well, you’ve found her and she’s safe now. The last thing she needs to see is you in yesterday’s clothes. Go take a shower, have a shave and I’ll keep watch. Don’t want her coming face to face with some fucking hobo when she wakes up.”
Ayden sighs at the thought. “You’re right, especially as I have to break the news to her.”
The news …
“What will you tell her about the baby?”
No …
“What can I say? He must have used her as a punching bag before I got there.”
He did.
“Right now she needs to get over the operation and recuperate, Ayd. She needs you to be strong.”
Operation?
“Look, Lester’s brought your overnight bag.” He moves across the room. “Here take it and go make yourself presentable. If she wakes, I’ll come get you.”
The door of what I assume is an en-suite bathroom closes and the sound of running water tells me I am alone with Jake. I hear him approaching and sense him looking down at me.
A gentle hand pushes back a strand of hair from my brow. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Beth but … I apologise for the way I’ve treated you, as if you were just another one of Ayd’s … friends. You’re more than that. I see it now. Get well beautiful.” I feel warm lips on my forehead a single second before I fade into oblivion.
***
A black Golf GTI crawls along the curb, crushing fallen leaves in the gutter, before coming to a deliberate stop outside 4 Milton Avenue. That’s the address Elise Richards has scrawled on a scrap of paper; it belonged to Dan Rizler.
Earlier in the day, she called Human Resources at Cambridge University pretending to be a Police Detective confirming the address they had on file for their recently deceased employee. They had been eager to assist with her investigation and in less than ten minutes had provided her with what she needed to check out his primary residence.
Anticipating it would not be a desirable place in which to live, she has dressed down; slipped into a pair of jeans and a white blouse, even tied her hair back, intending to freshen up and put her work clothes back on before returning to her office in town.
Leaving the sound of the car alarm ringing out behind her, she approaches no. 4; a two-story, seedy-looking block of apartments that would benefit from being knocked down and rebuilt; better still turned into a car park or a supermarket.
Next to the door there are four buzzers; 4a has the name Rizler next to it but she presses them all: 4d answers.
“Yeah.”
“Delivery for 4a,” she says. To her delight, it clicks open; she steps inside, taking care not to touch anything, even though she’s wearing a pair of black leather gloves.
Stepping into the dark and dingy entrance she becomes aware of the smell of dampness and neglect. The first door on the right is 4a. The lock has been broken and it is slightly ajar. It creaks as she pushes it open, one inch at a time.
All she can do is shake her head when she enters. “What a shit hole,” she remarks. “So this is where you lived is it Dan?”
Stepping over broken pieces of chairs and shredded cushions she makes her way to the far end of the room, spotting the clean rectangular patch of wallpaper about the size of a noticeboard on the far wall. “I wonder what you had pinned to that wall, Dan? Pictures of little Miss Perfect I should think.” She sneers at the thought.
In the bedroom there is more evidence that someone once lived there. Tattered clothes, an unmade bed and … on the floor she spots an old mobile phone. It must be around ten years old. She picks it up and turns it over, detecting the missing battery by its light weight, hoping to find something else in it that could prove useful. She slides off the back and shakes her head. The SIM card has been removed. “Oh, well.”
She dismisses the remaining contents of the room and returns to the kitchen area, scanning the corners and crevices for any clues that might help to unravel the mystery of Dan Rizler. She marches over to the rubbish bin and, with one hesitant hand, lifts off the plastic lid that is carelessly balanced on the top. Inside she sees a plastic bag. The bag seems full of paper but, when she drags it out, she sees it’s full of torn photographs. Tipped out onto the kitchen table the photographs scatter like jigsaw pieces, leaving her to match faces to bodies. She soon recognises that it’s the same girl in every photo.
“What have you been up to, Dan?” she sneers. The tell-tale pin prick holes on the corners of each photograph are all the clues she needs. “You have been stalking Miss Parker for some time, it seems. You naughty man.”
She prepares to step away from the spread of mismatched images, but one of them catches her eye. It’s yellowing around the edges but Elizabeth Parker is in perfect focus, posing shyly. Her dark hair is blowing around her and her right hand is lifted to her mouth as she leans into the group sheltering from the wind.
She holds the two halves of the photo in front of her and scowls. “What the fuck!”
2
Awakened by the thirst of a desert rat, I wrestle with the light. When I blink my way back into the present, I’m confronted by a clean-shaven, deliciously fragrant husband whose smile is so profoundly intimate I could weep.
“Hello, Mrs. Stone. Welcome back. Don’t try to speak. Take your time.” He caresses my face with a warm hand and I lean into it and close my eyes, without the need for words. Seconds come and go and I lick my parched lips, in an attempt to coat them with moisture, but there is none.
“Wait a minute, I’ll get you some water.”
He returns with a glass of chilled water and a straw. When the liquid hits my throat, it does so with
the force of an avalanche, making me cough.
“Slowly…” He places down the glass and takes hold of my right hand. “You had me worried. I thought you’d hibernated again.”
I shake my head and mutter words that scarcely sound like my own. “No, just sitting out a cold spell,” I answer, recalling one of our earlier conversations.
“That’s good to hear. And are you ready to come back to me?” he asks tentatively, his tired eyes overflowing with devotion.
“I never left you Ayden,” I reply, smiling lovingly. “I’ve been right here all the time.” Lifting a weighty arm I outstretch my fingers until they come to rest on his heart.
He weaves his fingers into mine and keeps my hand in place. “You were so brave.” He’s shaking his head and holding back an outpouring of emotion that threatens to smother us both. “But it’s over now. All you have to do is get better.”
I lift my hand as before, gently stroking his bruised jaw, caressing the skin beneath his left eyes that’s still tinged with grey. “You fought so hard.” I blink away tears.
“I had everything to lose.”
I slide my hand around his neck and pull him to me, feeling his breath brushing against my left cheek. “Tell me what’s happened to me.”
Pulling slowly backward, he takes a galvanizing breath. Unable to meet my anxious stare he looks down and strokes my hand. “You were beaten up pretty bad and … and they had to operate on you straight away.”
I wrinkle my nose, “Operate?”
“Yes. But you’re perfectly fine now.”
“I have a heart monitor attached to my body and a cannula in my hand attached to an IV, so it must have been something serious. What did they have to operate on?”
He hesitates. “You were bleeding internally. I assume he punched you before I got there …”
“He did … I was stalling and he punished me for having a smart mouth.”
He squeezes his eyes shut tight at the thought. “Well his punishment was brutal Beth. He caused a serious trauma to your abdomen …”
TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 1