Dread and Breakfast

by Stuart R. West

  “Blankets, huh? Lame metaphor, hon.”

  “Hey, a poet, I ain’t.”

  “Just be careful, ‘kay? Promise?”

  “Promise. Love you, honey. Kiss the kids good night for me.”

  “Will do. Love you back.”

  Spending nights away was a necessary evil in the security field. Lousy beds, paper-thin walls, diner food that could start a grease fire in your belly. But, mostly, Winston hated being away from his family. He lived for his wife and two daughters, pretty much the reason he extended his field of expertise in the security industry.

  Of course, he’d been hesitant at first. Ever since childhood, he’d never had a stomach for violence, always preferring to talk his way out of a bad situation if possible. But Mr. Dominick had planted the idea in his head. Just a small seedling at first, but it blossomed, watered by Dominick’s pushing. And, frankly, when Winston looked at the resources he had available — the entirety of his company, “Ashford Security Solutions” (unfortunate acronym and all) — pushing “Security Consultant” to the next level seemed like a natural step. Via Lenny, he could access anyone’s personal accounts and files; false identities and papers were a snap to acquire; and, of course, his business led him to people who had no qualms about securing untraceable weapons for him. Sure, his company was profitable, but just not quite enough. When he considered his house mortgage and his daughters’ costly private school tuition, well, pulling the first trigger wasn’t so bad after all. Just as long as he never made it personal.

  Family came first, though, one hundred percent. Several years ago, when he had first started taking on out-of-town assignments, Julie had grown aloof, her frustration evident in her uncommon silence. Once — and only once — she’d straight out asked him, “Are you having an affair?” Her lower lip had trembled, obviously dreading — yet anticipating — his answer.

  He swept her up in his arms with an amazed chuckle. “No, Julie, I swear to you I’m not. I never would and never will.” Within his hug, he felt her physically lighten, her tense shoulders relaxing.

  “I know, Winston. I’m just being silly. Forget I said anything.”

  And they both had. She never questioned him again. He told her about the more mundane details of his workload, the majority of it. But he never mentioned anything about his extra duties for Domenick. If she suspected, she never let on. Sure, guilt gnawed at him from time to time for withholding the complete truth, but he didn’t outright lie. He reasoned it was for her benefit. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  He glanced at the glove box where he stored his gun on road trips. The .22 LR handgun was small enough to conceal, yet packed a punch like a charging rhino. It hadn’t let him down once.

  Yet he dreaded using it. Sometimes completing duties for Domenick left a sour taste in his mouth. Especially when the assignments pleaded for their lives. Usually why he liked to take them out without any personal contact. Never put a story to the face. It helped him sleep at night.

  How this job was shaping up worried him. He couldn’t very well sleep in his car, not in this storm. And there didn’t appear to be a motel in Hilston, not according to his phone. Against his better judgement, he’d probably have to stay at the bed and breakfast until the storm blew over. Then he’d make his move.

  As his car crunched over the snow-packed highway, he flipped the visor down, kissed his fingers, and tapped the photo of his family. This one’s for you. Then he drove on into Hilston.

  *

  From an early age, Heather Peterson knew she was different. She just couldn’t quite put a finger on how. Her schoolmates had shunned her, running in exclusive packs, which suited Heather just fine. She had other interests; not the typical sort either, the ones the silly girls thrived on. Growing up on a farm enabled her to pursue her new-found hobby. But she’d longed to share her passion with somebody, something that seemed out of the realm of possibility.

  Until God, in His kind and gracious manner, led her to Tommy. Or rather, led Tommy to her. Miracle of all miracles, Tommy had strolled up to her at her first Young Christians meeting, drawn to her inner light, and boldly stuck his hand out. Handsome, and with more confidence than a movie star, Tommy Goodenow regaled her with tales of his accomplishments. Heather had listened with rapt attention, drowning in his blue eyes, and swimming in his deep, soothing voice. Smitten like a silly schoolgirl — which, she supposed, she was — Heather knew Tommy was the man for her. Knew it as sure as she knew God had gifted Tommy to her. Once the meeting had ended, Tommy asked her out. Her hopes soared, then crashed back down to earth. What if he found her strange like the other students did? What if he found her impossible to love, the way her parents had?

  But she should have had faith in God. Things worked out better than she dared hope.

  Holding her ring up next to the car window, a street lamp caught a glint of diamond. Her smile stretched, grew even wider when she looked at her new husband behind the steering wheel.

  Mrs. Tommy Goodenow. Heather Goodenow. She couldn’t believe she was now a married woman. Something she had only dreamed of before.

  Tommy must’ve sensed her thoughts, the way he innately knew so many things about her. He swept his brown hair out of his eyes and flashed his killer smile, incredibly toothy and white. “Penny for your thoughts, Missus Goodenow?”

  “Why, Mister Goodenow, a girl has to keep some secrets.” Truly a miracle how he brought out her playfulness, a daring flirtiness. Still, she didn’t want to tell him what really bothered her, something that caused butterflies to swarm in her stomach. While her newlywed status thrilled her, to be frank, the inevitable consummation terrified her. Momma’d never been much help in such matters, never taking the time to explain things. Heather’d pieced things together as well as she could from stories overheard in the high school locker room. She thought she knew what to expect. But did she truly? Was it possible to be petrified and exhilarated at the same time? Something burned in her lower regions, a warmth that spread throughout her body and spiked in her brain. Her mind toyed with her, teetering on the verge of unlocking the secrets of the human body. All led there by God, of course. She turned toward the window, hiding, but not out of shame, never shame. Rather, she didn’t want Tommy to see her surely pale complexion. Fear of consummating their love. Sex. There she said it; well, not out loud, but she put a label to the act. And it didn’t sound dirty at all, not really.

  Tommy’s hand crawled on top of hers. “We’ll be there soon, babe.” Always so darn self-assured, Tommy had enough confidence for both of them, and then some.

  “Both hands back on the wheel,” she chided. “With this crazy storm, you’ll need all your attention on the road.” She swept back a lock of her blond hair and tucked it behind an ear. “You’ll have all the time in the world later to attend to me.” Had she just said that? She couldn’t believe her audacity. Tommy had that effect on her.

  She’d told Tommy she was a “V.” Honestly, she’d never even had a boyfriend until him. Sure, she kissed a few frogs, stupid boys hopping around on the playground. But never one like Tommy. And he’d handled the news of her virginity like a true Christian gentleman. He didn’t laugh, as she suspected he might. He didn’t ridicule. Instead, he’d seized her hand within his, held it to his heart, and said, “Then we’re meant to be together. I’ve been saving myself for marriage.”

  Which totally blew Heather away. How in Heaven could a boy this gorgeous have gone untouched? She pretty much assumed Tommy had indulged in “lighter” petting, making out, who knew what. Part of being a boy. But she never asked, he never volunteered. Some things are better left unknown.

  God had smiled down upon them both that fateful day. And they had agreed to help others see the light as well. Spreading the wealth of God.

  As they approached a traffic light, Tommy tapped the brakes. The car slid a few feet into the intersection before crunching to a halt.

  “My goodness.” Heather fanned herself with a hand. Mo
stly to calm herself from the slight scare, maybe to cool herself down for more intimate reasons. “Be careful, babe.” Funny how comfortable she’d become calling her new husband “babe.” Before, she would’ve thought it juvenile, vulgar even. Now it sounded daring, liberating.

  “Always with you, babe. I’d never put you at risk.” Again he patted her hand. This time she allowed it since they were stopped. “We’re almost there.” Another knowing grin. “G.P.S. says just a few more blocks.”

  Anticipation crawled inside her, an uncomfortable scratching at her private parts. Only several blocks separated them from their marital bed. How far they’d come along God’s path, all building to this moment. “Can’t wait,” she said quietly.

  After months of chaste dating, she had expressed her innermost feelings to Tommy, told him of her unusual passion. Bravely, she’d demonstrated her hobby, leaving any judgment in God’s hands. At first, he’d watched slack-jawed, an uncommon look for him. Nothing ever seemed to faze him. When she finished, she stood up, looking at him in silence. Waiting. Finally, his grin fell back into place. He strutted forward, the cock in the henhouse, and kissed her. Then, dropping to his knees, he picked up where she left off. Finished the job and followed it with another kiss, full-on, sensual, exciting. Forbidden.

  She closed her eyes, basking in the blissful memory, and silently prayed: Thank you, God, for leading us to one another.

  Tommy jarred her out of her reverie, concern tightening his handsome features. “Okay, babe?”

  She nodded. “Never been better. Just … praying. I’m thankful for us and wanted to let God know.”

  “Amen,” he said.

  The wedding had been a small, slap-dash affair. With no friends to speak of, Heather’s side of the church had been fairly barren, occupied by a few relatives she didn’t really know. Tommy, on the other hand, had invited a raucous group of male friends who laughed and hooted throughout the ceremony. Since Tommy had graduated a year before her, she didn’t really know them either. To be honest, based on their childish actions, she didn’t think she wanted to get to know them. The louder they carried on, the redder Reverend Paxton burned. Not nearly as bad as her father, though. He sat in the front row, red as dawn, ears on fire from a head full of hate. He had been dead set against the wedding, actually believing it to have been a “shot gun” affair. Hardly.

  After the glorious event, they stopped by home to say goodbye to her parents. Her father had grown even more sullen, falling into a whiskey fit. And he hadn’t even blessed them with a wedding gift.

  But that was okay, though; turn the other cheek as the Good Book says. Heather and Tommy had left her parents with the ultimate gift, the true Christian thing to do.

  Heather smiled at the memory, warm in the afterglow.

  Close-set, quaint houses and trees lined the street. Heather’s heart knocked, practically jumping up the hill ahead of them. Ready for the final mystery to be unwrapped. She swallowed, an audible dry click.

  The car hurtled down the hill, Tommy grinning behind the wheel, letting gravity take over. At the bottom of the hill, he pumped the brakes, thunk, thunk, thunk, hiss. The car slalomed to a stop, deep tire grooves in the snow-laid street behind them. Wind rattled the chains on a sign reading, “Dandy Drop Inn.”

  “We’re here, babe.” Tommy leaned over and kissed Heather. His tongue darted into her mouth, a hand gently caressing her breast. His reward for having conquered the snow storm.

  “Tommy!” Heather pushed him back, not too much. She couldn’t resist a smile, giving away her true desire. “Not in public!”

  Tommy looked around, seriously puzzled and nearly comical. “This ain’t exactly public. No one out on a night like this but us.”

  “I’m no slut, Tommy Goodenow, to be pawed on the street. You just wait.”

  “Reckon I can, at that. Reckon I will. Lookin’ forward to it.”

  “Me, too.” She tossed her arms around his neck and gave him a quick peck. Just a tease, enough to titillate, not enough to ignite his male hormones again.

  “Okay. Ready?”

  Not really. “I suppose. As long as you’re gentle,” she whispered.

  “Always, babe. Always.”

  They stepped out into the snow. Heather cinched her coat beneath her chin against a sudden, brutal gust. Snow blew into her face, biting cold. “Oh. Don’t forget the knives.”

  “Right, babe.” Tommy pulled open the car door, reaching into the back seat. He gripped the knife sleeve, waving it as validation. “Can’t forget God’s work.”

  The wind seized and conquered his words, everything except for “God.” But she intuited what he’d said. With her gloved hand coiled around the crook of Tommy’s arm, he escorted her down the sidewalk to their honeymoon abode.

  Chapter Two

  Hunkered down in the back seat, Rebecca hugged her daughter tight beneath the blanket. The grease-stained blanket smelled of gasoline. She hadn’t remembered why it was in the trunk, but was certainly grateful for the discovery.

  Even though she’d known better, several times she’d stepped outside, holding her phone in the air like a torch and seeking different angles for a signal. Pointless, really, but at least it made her feel proactive. Anything beat passively freezing by the roadside.

  Trying to keep things upbeat, she led Kyra through songs, their breath expelling condensation with each note.

  Kyra dropped the current song in mid-verse. “Mommy, what’re we gonna do?”

  “We’re going to wait for help. Or until I get a phone signal.”

  “When’s that gonna be?” Kyra looked up, her head and shoulders shivering.

  “Soon, honey.” She hoped. Rebecca launched into another song, one Kyra listened to constantly on her iPod. She stopped when something rumbled outside.

  “Mommy, what —”

  “Shh, honey.” Rebecca cracked the back window, tilting her head to listen. From a distance, snow crunched, steady and growing louder. A motor’s struggling hum. Headlights swooped past them, a disheartening sight. Then the car stopped and backed up. Rotating lights blinked over the top of the ditch, bathing Rebecca’s car in artificial reds and blues.

  With her hand shielding her eyes, Rebecca jumped out of the car. “Stay here, honey!”

  “But, Mommy, I —”

  Kyra’s words cut off as Rebecca shut the door behind her. A man’s silhouette appeared in front of the headlights, a flashlight held at his center. “You folks all right down there?” The flashlight beam fell on her, then swept toward the damaged car.

  “Thank God! My daughter and I … we slid into the tree.” Rebecca waved her hand over her eyes, hoping the man would get a clue about his flashlight. Although, honestly, she welcomed the light after the last hour of darkness.

  The man stumbled down the ditch, wading through the snow. She noticed the badge pinned to his chest, not a welcome sight these days. Her husband had demolished her trust in law enforcement. Still, she’d only sampled one bad apple. Now she’d accept aid from any orchard.

  “Are you okay? Any injuries?”

  When the cop gripped her shoulders, she flinched. An instinctual reaction, one that couldn’t be helped. “We’re fine. But … freezing. Could you call a tow truck? Or —”

  “Ma’am, on a night like this, ain’t nobody out but you, me … maybe abominable snowmen.” He grinned, a good look for him, but she had no tolerance for jokes now. Or flirting. Apparently, he noticed her edginess and adapted a serious cop face. “Okay, tell you what …” He swept the flashlight over the back windshield. Kyra looked out, hands splayed on the window, helpless as a dog locked in a car. “… step into my office for a spell. We’ll work something out. Heater’s working jus’ fine.”

  The first thing that sounded good to Rebecca all night. With a nod, she turned, the policeman on her heels. Kyra bolted out of the car, practically falling into her arms.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” The cop ran the beam up and down her shaking body.
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br />   Rebecca struggled to lift Kyra, her arms frozen and numb, ice needles prickling her.

  The policeman said, “Let me help.” He swooped up Kyra, a more-than-willing passenger. Her daughter flung shaking arms around the cop’s neck, no jaded fear of law enforcement in her small world. While Rebecca put on a smile, or at least tried to, her nerves jangled, echoes from her past.

  Snow lit in the cop’s wavy brown hair, a premature graying illusion. His hair hung over his ears, almost reaching his eyes, definitely not standard length, at least according to her husband’s anal-retentive buzz-cut standards. Apparently impervious to the cold, the cop’s muscles rippled beneath his short-sleeved uniform. As he dashed by Rebecca, he shot her a self-impressed, admittedly attractive smile. But she’d had more than her fair share of cops with charming, dashing exteriors. Hardly the time to indulge a little rebound fantasy.

  Snow enveloped his legs as he trudged up the ditch. Rebecca retrieved her suitcase and followed in his path toward the running cruiser. As she crawled in next to Kyra, the heat embraced Rebecca like a long-lost friend.

  Their savior hopped into the car, out of breath, and draped an arm over the bench seat. “I’m Deputy Randy Gurley.” He stuck his hand out. Reluctantly, Rebecca accepted it, the least she could do after his efforts. His hand froze in hers, in more ways than one, lingering a little too long. “Okay, let’s get it out of the way. I’m Gurley. Go ahead, get it out of your system.” Smiling, he waited. Rebecca refused to laugh, or rather, couldn’t dredge up the energy. Kyra, on the other hand, giggled, a nice reaffirmation of youth. “The other fellas sure let me have it about my name. Anyway … you are?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m Rebecca, and this is my daughter, Kyra.”

  “Nice to meet you gals. Wish it was under better circumstances. So, what happened? And why’re you driving through Hilston in this storm? Didn’t recognize your plates.”