What had happened, when had it happened? The honeymoon had been normal, I supposed, yet I really hadn’t had anything to compare it to since I was a virgin. Thinking back, I remembered the first time he had brought home a “costume.” I had thought it was for a Halloween party but he said no, it was for a private party—ours. I was a French maid that night, complete with phrases I’d had to memorize, and Lord knows what I had been asking for at the time. He had been insatiable that night; I did remember that—and the fact that the servant’s outfit found its way to a prominent section of my closet.
My pleasure, which had been important to Jared at one time, became inconsequential. Each new thing he brought home was to stimulate him, weave a fantasy in his head, or prolong his pleasure. My mind focused on correlating events, dates, times, holidays. It came to me then; it had been the third year of our marriage, about the time he wanted to make sure I was exclusive to him by fashioning odd jewelry for me to wear—things with his initials instead of mine. I thought of those damned earrings he had made me wear to the Country Club Christmas Party that year, three-inch dangles in solid gold, a “J” for Jared for each ear, my name had been Deborah at the time, so the “J” had been awkward, even though my last name was Jameson. It still meant I was his.
A horn honked off in the distance and then I heard the timer on the microwave beeping. My half hour of retrospection was over. What did it matter when it came to pass that I didn’t love my husband anymore? I didn’t, it was plain and simple. He’d caused me pain and anguish, humiliated me, and made me feel less of a woman than a bowery girl. He’d used my sexuality, making me play an innocent to feed his lusts, and he had never been satisfied. I was ecstatic to be free of him, and no, I really didn’t care right now whether he lived or died. He had destroyed me that much. I was only just now coming back to the girl I had been.
I took my drink inside, debated about refilling it, but decided against it. It was time I made some plans for Stumpy and me. It was time to move on. I could come back some other time when I needed the isolation. Right now I needed some interaction with people, and I knew exactly the people I needed to see to feel better about myself. I was going to go visit Daniel and Julia, and their sweet daughter Angelina, and I was going to take her a puppy, a small white one that could sit in her lap, just as I’d promised.
But first I would take this opportunity to call my sister and my parents. With Jared in the state he was in, it would be safe to talk to them and to assure them that I was fine and happy with my new life.
An hour later I was exhausted from the emotions. Both my sister and my parents had wrung me dry with their concerns and worry. They had read about the reward, knew about Jared’s accident, and were anxious for me to visit. Although my sister was not that far away, just one state over in Washington, I was not absolutely sure this wasn’t some kind of ruse and that rushing to see them wasn’t walking right into Jared’s plan. I told them maybe in a few more months, I’d come too far to screw up now.
Just before hanging up with my mother, she mentioned that Sheila, Jared’s assistant, had been leaving messages, urgent messages. My signature as his next of kin was desperately needed on some papers for the business to continue running, in order to pay the employees and handle the day-to-day bills that were piling up. That smacked of coerced subterfuge, as I could hardly believe there was no second in command, no one who had check writing privileges other than Jared, not Jared who was so organized and prepared. More than ever, I doubted his loss of memory. No one ran a multi-million dollar business without a back-up plan, without provisions for the business to continue in his absence, not as much as he traveled. But then again, Jared did not trust many people. He hadn’t even trusted me.
Chapter Seventeen
That night I sat at my picnic table under the stars and began to organize my trip east. I had decided that it could be a long time before I got this far west again, so I wrote down the two places I really wanted to go to before heading southwest: a winery called 12 Ranch Wines that was fairly close and the Japanese Gardens in Portland.
I swatted at the mosquitoes that were especially vicious tonight. It was odd to look out at the horizon and see snow on the peaks and still have mosquitoes swarming around my ears. I had run out of repellent but was determined to enjoy my last night outdoors. I had actually tried to capture a few of the pesky things for Stumpy, but was not fast enough, even after letting them light on me. I managed to kill a few of them but I couldn’t capture them and I had already learned that Stumpy had one peculiarity about his food—it had to be alive to find its way onto his tongue. So, now I had him on a leash so he could catch his own food, but apparently the collar I’d fashioned for him out of twist ties was so foreign to him that he could only sit there and blink. Here I had my own personal mosquito trap, but I couldn’t get it to work.
The evening news hadn’t mentioned Jared and due to the special assignment Brick was on, he was going to be incommunicado for a few days. All in all, it was probably a good thing for me to get out of here. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard a twig snap.
My head jerked up as I trained my ears to where the sound had come from. The noise had come from behind the fallen tree on the opposite lot, not fifty feet away. I slowly gathered my notebook and my lizard and made my way backward toward the door of the RV.
“There’s no point hiding from me,” a man’s voice growled, his tone was menacing, but I couldn’t place it as one I was familiar with. “I got you dead to rights.” A tall, lanky man in a khaki flight suit stood up and walked out from behind the foliage of the downed tree.
“Wh. . .Who are you?” I managed to squeak out.
“Let’s just say I’m a friend of your husband’s. He wants you home. I want the reward. It’s a good deal for both of us.” He was coming toward me, and I knew if I let him get much closer, he’d surely overpower me.
“Haven’t you been watching TV?” I asked as I let Stumpy, still on the leash, slide down my leg to the ground. I was probably choking him, but I had no choice. I felt it when he landed on my foot and scurried off. I dropped the leash so he could get away. “He’s in a coma, he has no idea who I am. I assure you that he doesn’t want me anymore. And believe me, there’s no way you’ll get a reward from his trustees. They would rather I be out of the picture entirely, I’m sure.”
“I’m one of the helicopter pilots he hired to bring him here. I know just how badly he wants you back. It’s all he talked about on the way here from Salt Lake City. His Deb, his precious, little Deb. Actually he referred to you so many times as his naughty little Deb, that I believe he has some very special plans for your homecoming.” He was close enough now that I could see the glint of his sardonic smile. He had overlapping teeth in the front, yellowed and stained by what I assumed was tobacco, judging by his noxious breath. His eyes were dark and fairly dancing with avarice and his thin lips quirked to the side in lewd grimace.
“Didn’t you hear me? He’s in a coma, not lucid!” I moved out from behind the table and acted like I was coming out into the open area, as if I wasn’t afraid of this jerk who wanted to capture and sell me back to my husband. I could not believe this was happening to me again. When was I going to learn? I spotted the hammock and an idea formed.
“He’ll be right as rain in a day or two, and ready for his Darlin’ Deb. And I’ll be able to cash in.”
Sidestepping to the right, I was almost at the hammock.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away, ‘cause you’re not.”
I reached up and grasped the hook holding the hammock to the tree trying to act nonchalant. As if taking down a hammock would be the only concern a girl would have when accosted by a man who wanted to take her against her will.
“What are you doing, leave that alone!”
“I’m just taking down my hammock, you don’t want to leave these out at night, the dew is hard on the hemp fibers.” I gathered one side of the hammock to my chest, and walked to the
opposite tree and removed the second hook. Now I was ready, he only had to come close. “I’m going in now, you’re welcome to sleep outside and we’ll talk again in the morning.” I threaded my fingers through the netting, and started toward the RV. I knew he’d come after me.
“Oh, no you’re not. You’re not going anywhere.”
When he grabbed my shoulder and spun me back toward him, I leapt on him. Catching him unaware, I knocked him to the ground and rolled him into the netting. His flailing hands and thrashing feet only helped to secure him more. I saw one of the hooks glinting in the moonlight, and after wrapping it around him, inserted it into a belt loop on his pants. I got up and ran to one of the outside storage compartments and grabbed the rope I used for a clothesline and tied his hands and feet. All the while he was hollering and cussing me out. I finally pulled off one of his shoes and his sock, and stuffed the sock into his mouth. I pulled the netting up over the sock so he couldn’t spit it out.
“There! I said as I got up off my knees and smacked my hands together. “That ought to keep ya for awhile. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to find my lizard and get out of here.”
I went into the RV and found a flashlight and began my search for Stumpy. I found him by following his leash; he was under a bush looking up at me as if to say, “You know you dropped me, don’t you? That really wasn’t very nice.”
I picked him up and held him at eye level checking him out. “No worse for the wear. You know, you’re starting to grow on me.” I had to chuckle at that, for sure enough, there was no longer a wound per se, but a nub making a meager appearance. I took him inside and put him in his terrarium, using the broiler pan insert for a cover, held down by a votive in a marble base.
I looked out the window at the guy squirming on the ground, and gave a long, drawn out sigh. Now what?
Well if I’d learned anything about reward mongers, it was that where there was one, there were many. I knew it was time to leave. I set about getting packed up and ready to go. No way did I want to go down this mountain in the dark, but at first light, I was going to be ready to get out of here. I decided to take a quick shower, and then unhook all the connections tonight, so that in the morning all I’d have to do was crank up the engine and back out.
Half an hour later, I was good to go but really upset about having to leave my hammock behind. Then it came to me. I knew how I could get it back, and safely. I went into my medicine cabinet and took out two of my sleeping pills. Hell, the guy might really appreciate this; the mosquitoes had to be driving him crazy. I found a cup with a lid that had a sipper straw through it. I dropped in the pills, melted them with hot water and threw a few ice cubes in. Then I went outside, and with a grimace and very tentative fingers, I pulled out the sock. The cursing began in earnest the second it came out.
“You want some water?” I asked innocently, ignoring every vile thing he was saying. “I’m leaving in just a few minutes, so this is your last chance ‘til morning when some kids riding bikes will probably find you. I’d drink up if I were you.”
He gave me an ugly glare, but motioned with his jaw to bring the cup closer. I assisted him in getting it all down. Then I stood and dropped the sock and cup on top of him. “If Jared does come back to his own mind, you can tell him that his “naughty little Deb” is not interested in playing any games with him anymore. And that he should save his money and his time, and just find somebody new to play with.”
I spun on my heel and went back to the RV to wait. I dozed for awhile and woke just as the first streak of light creased the sky. I ran outside and shook the man on the ground and when I didn’t get a response of any kind, not a moan or a growl, I panicked. I felt for his pulse and was reassured that he was still alive and that he was just in his own temporary mini-comatose state from the drugs I’d given him. It was kind of weird that this was how I was handling my man problems lately, I thought, as my mind reverted to Brick and the time I’d dosed him with the same drug while we were having lunch at an Italian restaurant. Hey, he’d been trying to arrest me, I’d had no choice, I reminded myself.
Quickly I unhooked, unwrapped, and spun Mr. Vile Mouth out of the hammock, being none too gentle. Then, as I was walking away, I looked back. Hell, I might as well get my clothesline too, I thought, and went back to untie the knots at his wrists and ankles. I had a moment of guilt when I noticed that the foot I had removed the shoe and sock from was covered with bites and welts. Not having seen the other, I couldn’t tell if it was swollen or not, but it looked like it could be.
I stowed the hammock and the clothesline and fired up the RV. Then I went back to the medicine cabinet, and back out to the man sprawled on the ground. I shoved a Benadryl capsule between his dry lips and disgusting teeth. The sipper cup on the ground still had a tiny bit of water in it, so I held his head up by the back of his neck and let it trickle into his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, but the pill went down. I thought about giving him two, but wasn’t sure how it would react with the sleeping pills. I put his head back on the ground, straightened out his body so he was flat on his back, and just for grins, I crossed his hands over his chest. That’s exactly how I left him when I backed out a few minutes later, after having damned near scalded my hands to clean them.
I whistled as I wound my way around the tight bends in the road, mindful of the trees and the overhanging branches. I was on the road again, and it sure felt good.
Chapter Eighteen
I really wanted to go to the Japanese garden I had read about online, but after looking at the Atlas, I just couldn’t justify the additional time or expense. Portland was on the opposite end of the state, far north, whereas I was far south. I shook my head and promised myself that I’d get to see the ceremonial teahouse, and the elaborate gardens of raked sand some other time. Thoughts of bridges over ponds, cherry trees that had been praised by the Japanese Ambassador as the finest outside of Japan and an entire garden resembling a monastery, crowded my mind as I pulled onto Route 62 to head south to Bonanza, home of 12 Ranch Wine Winery. I was running out of Cabernet Sauvignon and I was anxious to try out the unfiltered wines made from grapes harvested in Oregon.
That was one legacy Jared had left me, one that I could live with—love of a good red. I was tempting fate by not calling to make an appointment, but I figured, hey, if no one was there, I’d boon dock and wait. It wasn’t as if I was on a timetable. I loved that part of RVing, the part where you didn’t wear a watch and only paid attention to the time when you either wanted to catch a sunrise or time an egg.
Two hours later I was talking to Ken and Connie Marston about their wine making process, the harvest they were expecting and Oregon in general. I had already noticed that there was a lot of the Old West still hanging around out here. It seemed that “lost” ranches and mines were everywhere, apparently no longer lost. And the general trend was to dress between dressed-out cowboy and state-of-the-art hiker. I hardly fit in with my jeans and sloppy sweatshirt combos, but I didn’t really care.
While loading up my RV with two cases of wine, I took the opportunity to show off Stumpy and ask about pet stores. I was told that I would find plenty near Redding, California where I planned to stop for the night. I had to figure out my route. I was anxious to see some of California, but not anxious to get tied up in traffic, as I was still not all that experienced driving my new rig, and of course, gas was a huge factor, so I certainly didn’t want to waste it idling on some crowded highway.
The campground I was heading toward was just north of Redding, an area called Whiskeytown Shasta Trinity National Recreational Area. I couldn’t wait, it sounded so cool, and I was so ready for a new place with new neighbors—law abiding, if possible this time, please Lord, I prayed.
I knew when I was getting close to Shasta Lake by all the camping signs. I usually tried to look for independent campgrounds when I could, so I could get more of the local flavor but I was ready for a night of no surprises, so I opted for the K.O.A. this time.
I was at the pool, enjoying the breeze and the peacefulness of the view when I heard the gate creak. The young woman I had seen hanging clothes next door came into the pool area with two young children in tow—a little boy and a little girl, both with just swim trunks on. She settled their things on some chairs a few feet from mine. The children, out of diapers, but not old enough for school, went right to the edge of the pool and jumped in. I sat up in alarm because neither looked old enough to be in the water by themselves. I had my legs over the side of my lounger, ready to spring into action.
The woman noticed my movements, and smiled with pride. “You don’t need to mind them any, they can swim better than fish.”
I watched the two of them cavorting in the water, diving down, surfacing with big grins, and swimming with great, effortless strokes from one side of the pool to the other, mindless of whether they were in the deep section or not.
“It’s how I met their papas, swimming.”
I looked over at her, she was beaming at the children, “Papas?” I questioned, encouraging her to continue.
“Weren’t much older than them really when we moved to Cottonwood Holler, ‘bout a hundred miles south of here. Momma and Papa were always busy on the farm, but I found time to go to the pond every day. Jasper lived to the east, Calvin lived to the west and I was plum smack in the middle. We were all close to the same age and we became thick as thieves that first summer. Every year after, we became better and better friends. We did everything together, but we especially loved swimming in the pond.
“We would float on the surface enjoying the cool water on those hot, itchy days. Usually we just ran to the pond after school and stripped down to nothin’ and dove in. When I was nine, Momma told me I had to wear a bathing suit. But I hated it; it was yellow with black polka dots and a ruffled skirt, so I rarely kept it on. Then one day, when I was fourteen and we were all floating around the pond, laughing at something that had happened at school, Calvin asked if he could feel my titties. I didn’t see why not, so I let him. It felt good, real good, his hands running over my chest. Then Jasper wanted to feel them too, and it felt even better.
Running Up the Score Page 9