A New Attitude

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A New Attitude Page 17

by Charlotte Hughes


  Irby grabbed her. “Marilee,” he said, shaking her. “Look at me.”

  His voice sounded as if it was coming at her through a tunnel. “I can’t! I’m dying!”

  “You’re not dying, you’re having an anxiety attack! That was the worst of it,” he said. “It’s all downhill from here.”

  She stopped struggling. “How do you know?” she demanded.

  “You think I haven’t been through this?”

  She looked at him. It had never occurred to her that Irby, always the jokester, had known this kind of fear. “You have?”

  “Hell, yes! Try walking into an embalming room at 2:00 a.m. and finding…” He paused. “I’ve seen some awful things, Marilee, things I would never want my family or anyone else to see. I know fear inside out.”

  “What…what did you do?”

  “I didn’t fight it. You’re fighting it, and that’s only making it worse.”

  “I can’t touch him again.”

  “Yes, you can, because I’m going to show you how to get through it. When you’re finished, you won’t ever have to worry about touching a dead person again.” He paused again. “Marilee, do you trust me?”

  “No.” She saw the hurt look on his face. “Okay, yes.”

  “Then you have to do exactly as I say. It’s the only way.”

  Some fifteen minutes later they exited the bedroom with Tom’s body, Irby having slipped his arms beneath Tom’s, and Marilee grasping his ankles. She tried to ignore her terror by listening to Irby’s instructions. Still, tears streamed down her cheeks and the blackness felt as if it was about to swallow her up again.

  “Just go with the fear,” Irby said. “It’ll hit you in waves. Feel them?”

  She couldn’t speak. The waves kept hitting.

  “They can’t hurt you, Marilee. Don’t fight them. This is just practice, like we did in the bedroom. You’re in control. If you want to stop and put Tom’s body down, you can do it anytime.”

  “It’s black…all around me,” she managed to say.

  “Close your eyes, and you won’t know it’s black. I’ll tell you where to walk.”

  She closed her eyes and followed Irby’s voice, trying to hear it as her own blood roared in her ears. Let it roar, she thought. It wouldn’t kill her. She had practiced touching Tom’s face in the bedroom while Irby coached her. It hadn’t killed her then, and it wouldn’t kill her now.

  Hopefully.

  Some of the waves had subsided by the time they reached the garage. Together, they managed to get Tom situated on the passenger’s side in his car, a Lincoln Continental, which he’d had the foresight to hide in the garage. Marilee stepped back as Irby strapped him in.

  “Honey, are you okay?” the brunette asked Marilee.

  Marilee could only look at her.

  “Okay, that’s done,” Irby said once the man was secure. He closed the door and checked his wristwatch. “We need to get moving.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive Tom, and you can follow in my truck. You know how to drive a stick, don’t you?”

  Marilee shook her head. “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

  Irby sighed and banged his head against the dead mayor’s car. “It’s not as easy as that, Marilee.”

  “So you’re saying I’m supposed to drive the body,” she said dully. She sucked in a deep breath. “Give me the keys.”

  He looked surprised—amazed, actually. “Are you sure?”

  “After what I’ve been through tonight, I should be able to assist in the autopsy.”

  SAM CONTINUED TO PACE Marilee’s kitchen, while Winnie drummed her fingers against the kitchen table. “Are you sure you didn’t recognize the man she left with?” he asked.

  “I told you, Sam, I never saw his face. It was too dark. I heard Marilee close the door, but by the time I got to the window, they were pulling out.” Winnie was wringing her hands. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m sure Marilee has a perfectly reasonable explanation for going out at this time of night.”

  Sam could see the girl was worried, and he knew it couldn’t be good for the baby. “Of course she does, Winnie. Probably somebody she knows from the church had an illness or death in the family, and they sent for her.” Sam hoped he was right, but he still couldn’t figure out why Marilee hadn’t left Winnie a note in case the girl woke up. He didn’t like what he was thinking. Had she put on her wig and slinky dress and gone out looking for fun with some guy? Someone as inexperienced as Marilee might get more than she’d bargained for.

  “You look exhausted. Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll wait on the front porch.”

  “I am tired,” Winnie admitted, “but you have to promise to wake me when she comes in.”

  Sam patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll wake you if there’s a problem,” he promised. He watched the girl climb the stairs slowly, as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. One thing was certain; she cared for Marilee as much as he did.

  Sam turned out the house lights and made his way to the front porch to wait. It was dark, and he quickly discovered the burned-out porch light. He closed the door and sat in one of the rockers, wanting to be there when she arrived with her “date,” just in case the guy tried any funny business. He would give her exactly one hour before he called the police.

  In the meantime, he would wait.

  MARILEE TRIED TO CONCENTRATE on Irby’s taillights as she followed his pickup down the dark country road, but it was difficult to ignore that there was a dead man beside her. Goose pimples prickled her flesh, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood out straight as a yardstick. Waves of panic hit her now and then, but she didn’t fight them. Like Irby had briefly taught her, she simply let them come, like waves in an ocean. She felt them swell all around her and pretended she was floating on a raft beneath a summer sun, seagulls crying in the distance, a breeze ruffling her hair.

  She wondered if she’d managed to overcome her phobia. What a relief that would be. Perhaps she wasn’t having a nervous breakdown after all. She had simply reached her limit, and who wouldn’t after all she’d been through? Her life wasn’t really S-H-I-T. She had a lot to be thankful for. One thing was for sure, she was a lot stronger than she used to be. Okay, except for those few minutes when she thought she was losing her mind.

  The road seemed to go on forever. They had not passed a single car since leaving the city limits, not that she would expect to at this hour. She’d known Mayor Bramley lived a good distance from town, but she’d had no idea he lived this far out. She wondered what his wife was thinking right now. Was the woman waiting up for her husband?

  Marilee remembered the nights she’d waited for Grady to come home. He’d always had a reasonable explanation for where he’d been; someone was either sick or in need of counseling. Not once had she suspected him of cheating on her. She had missed all the signs. When he’d become distant, she had assumed it was stress-related. Had someone told her he was seeing another woman, she would have accused that person of lying. He was a man of God; men like that didn’t cheat.

  Or so she had thought.

  Marilee slid her eyes to the right. Ruby had been right when she said dead people couldn’t hurt you. They could give you a bad case of heebie-jeebies, but that was the extent of it. Turning back to the road once more, she did not see the raccoon until he was almost in front of her. She swerved, hit the right shoulder then overcorrected, jerking the steering wheel hard to the left. The car skidded on the gravel road as she tried to keep from running off the road. She braked, and the car gave a jolt. Tom Bramley’s body fell against her, his cold limp hand landing on her thigh. Marilee screamed. The next thing she knew, she was in the ditch.

  Tom Bramley fell into her lap.

  She was still screaming when Irby jerked open her door.

  “Marilee, are you okay?” he said, his eyes scanning her, obviously looking for blood.

  “Get him off of me!” she screamed. “Get him off!”

&nb
sp; Irby crawled across her, shoving Tom Bramley away from her. “Go with the fear, Marilee. Stop fighting it!”

  “Screw you, Irby Denton!”

  He looked surprised. “It’s over, hon,” he said. “I’ll never ask you to do anything like this again. Here, let me help you out. I’ll put Tom behind the steering wheel and strap him in so it’ll look real. Here, take your purse.”

  “I have to use the bathroom.”

  “Go behind the car.”

  Marilee’s jaw dropped. “Oh, hell, why not?” She’d gotten drunk and probably broken every law in the book by moving a dead body. Peeing in the bushes was nothing. She went behind the car and did her business.

  “You ready?” Irby called out after he’d managed to get Tom settled.

  “Yes.”

  Together, they scrambled up the side of the ditch, slipping and sliding on rocks and dirt. Marilee fell several times before they reached the top, but Irby pulled her up each time. They paused to catch their breath.

  Irby glanced down at the car. “The lights are still on,” he said. “Hopefully, somebody will see them. Let’s go.”

  Marilee followed him to his pickup, idling on the side of the road.

  They didn’t speak until they were well on their way. As Marilee stared out her window, Irby kept looking at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Don’t speak to me,” she said.

  As though sensing she meant business, he remained quiet the rest of the drive. When he turned in to her subdivision, she unbuckled her seat belt. “Let me out here.”

  “We’re almost at your house.”

  “I want out now.” Marilee reached for the door handle. Irby slammed on the brakes, and she fell forward, hitting her head on the dash. Irby winced. “Are you trying to kill me?” she cried. He didn’t answer. Grabbing her purse, Marilee climbed from the truck. She slammed the door behind her.

  The walk to her house was less than two blocks, but to Marilee it seemed like miles. At some point her ankle had begun to throb. It’d be her luck to have broken the darn thing. Not only that, her head ached, and she didn’t know if it was from the beer or banging it against Irby’s dashboard. She shuddered again. The streetlights did little to alleviate her state of near hysteria, which she suspected was due to sheer exhaustion. She took deep breaths and continued on.

  Marilee was surprised to find the porch light off at her house, then remembered the bulb had burned out earlier. She stumbled up the front walk to her house and hobbled up the steps to her porch. She reached the front door and groped in her purse for her keys.

  “’Bout time you came home,” a male voice said.

  Marilee’s heart stopped beating. She opened her mouth to scream, but it never came. A wave of dizziness overtook her, and she fell against the front door. Then, everything went black.

  SAM BOLTED FROM THE ROCKER and managed to catch Marilee before she hit the porch floor. Had he scared her so badly that he’d caused her to faint? She was limp as a rag doll when he lifted her in his arms. Her skin felt cold and clammy, and she smelled of beer. It wasn’t like Marilee to drink, but she had obviously gone out because she was wearing a sequined dress that clung to every curve. Had she passed out? And why had she walked home? Had some jerk become fresh with her?

  So many questions, not enough answers.

  He shifted her in his arms and reached for the doorknob. Inside, he carried her to the sofa.

  “Marilee?” he said gently, at the same time reaching for the switch on the lamp. He turned it on. She was out cold. He shook her. Nothing. Finally, he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He tossed it in her face, and she came up sputtering.

  Marilee blinked several times. “Why’d you do that?” she demanded.

  “You fainted. What’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost, your teeth are chattering and you’ve been drinking.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t…talk…about it,” came her muffled reply.

  “I’m not leaving you until you do. What happened to you?”

  “Please—” She swallowed. “May I…have a drink of water?”

  Sam hurried into the kitchen once more. He returned with a full glass and handed it to her, but she was trembling so badly she sloshed half over the side. “Here, let me help you.” He held the glass to her lips so she could drink from it. “Go slow,” he said as she gulped the water down. “Marilee, are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  She answered by flopping back on the sofa. “No.”

  “What happened?” he repeated, this time in a stern voice. As he gazed down at her, noting her dirty dress, another thought occurred. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Were you attacked?” When she didn’t answer, he grew more agitated. “Were you—?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “I’m calling the police.”

  She bolted upright. “No! No police.”

  “Start talking, Marilee,” he ordered.

  “I was in a car accident,” she said quickly.

  “A car accident! Are you okay?”

  “I just need to clean up.” She tried to stand, then cried out.

  “You’re injured.”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. I think I twisted my ankle.”

  Sam took a closer look. He winced at the bluish tint and the swelling that told him she had indeed twisted it. “You need to have a doctor look at this, Marilee.”

  “Please—” She raked her hands through her hair. “I’m not up to it right now. Just help me to the bathroom so I can shower. I promise to tell you…everything later.”

  Sam swept her high in his arms and carried her toward the bathroom. She looked dazed, as if in shock. “I don’t like this, Marilee. I think you need to go to the emergency room.”

  “No doctor. No police. Just hot water.”

  Sam set her down gently on the toilet and turned toward the bathtub. Once he had the water going, he helped her stand. She was unsteady. “Do you think you can manage?”

  “Don’t leave me, Sam.”

  He stood frozen to the spot. “Do you need help getting undressed?”

  “Yes.”

  His stomach took a nosedive as he stepped behind her and reached for the zipper on her dress.

  “Don’t look,” she said. “Please.”

  She was asking a lot. “Okay.” He lowered the zipper and parted the fabric, slipping it off each shoulder, trying not to notice the smooth, porcelain-like skin. He slid it past her hips and let it fall to the floor. Her slip followed. He rolled his eyes and said a silent prayer when he caught sight of her in her bra and panties.

  “Please turn around,” she said, waiting until he’d done so. Then, grasping his shoulder for support, she slipped out of her underclothes and stepped inside the tub, trying to avoid using her bad ankle as much as possible. She slid the door closed, and checked the water before turning on the shower. She sighed her immense pleasure when the hot spray of water hit her.

  “You okay?” Sam asked, feeling awkward.

  “For now. Would you stay?”

  “I’ll stay.” Sam couldn’t resist looking—he was human after all—but he could barely make out her form behind the frosted glass.

  Marilee stood beneath the water for a long time, scrubbing her skin until it glowed pink. She washed her hair twice, then continued to stand there until the water grew cold. Finally, she turned it off. Sam passed her a towel, and she thanked him.

  “There’s a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door,” she said.

  Sam reached for the robe and handed it to her, taking care not to look in her direction, even though he would have given his last dime to do so. He wouldn’t risk upsetting her further. “Are you dressed?” he asked.

  “Yes. You can turn around now.”

  He found her wrapped in a white bathrobe, her hair wet and dripping. She reminded him of a lost puppy pulled in from the rain. He took the towel and dried her hair, trying to be as gentle as he could, then found her hairbrush and brushed her
hair from her face. Looking at her flawless complexion, he wondered why she bothered with makeup. It was just one of those things men weren’t supposed to understand, he decided. Like why women carried purses that resembled carry-on luggage, when men managed to keep everything they needed in their wallets and pockets. He noted the look in her eyes. She was definitely not herself. And she was still trembling. He wondered if she was in shock.

  “I want to brush my teeth.”

  Sam assisted her. “You’re trembling. Where would I find a blanket?”

  Marilee blinked several times. “Hall closet.”

  “Stay put.” Sam found what he was looking for and returned. He draped the blanket around her shoulders. “Let me help you into the living room.”

  Marilee insisted on walking, although it was more of a hobble. Once she was seated on the sofa, Sam took a closer look at her ankle. The swelling had not gone down. “I need to put ice on that.”

  “There should be an ice pack in the freezer.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She didn’t seem to be listening. “Marilee?” He touched her arm and she jumped. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Sam returned with the ice pack. Kneeling before her, he placed it on her ankle, trying to ignore where her bathrobe had parted, showing her leg and thigh. He remembered how she’d looked in her bra and panties, and his gut tensed. He took a moment to get himself under control.

  “I know you’re upset, Marilee,” he said gently, “but you have to talk to me. What’s going on? And why were you wearing that dress?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything.”

  “I promise it won’t go any further.” He paused. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Sam, you’re not going to believe this.” Once she got started, Marilee couldn’t stop. She told him about her night job and then paused for a reaction, but Sam said nothing. He sat on the floor in front of her, holding the ice pack to her ankle, listening. She went on to tell him about Irby’s late-night call and what they’d done. Sam frowned at that. “So Tom Bramley is dead?”

 

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