In Limbo

by E. C. Marsh

  IN LIMBO

  By

  E.C. Marsh

  Copyright 2001 by Erifilie C. Marsh

  PROLOGUE

  Nobody should die alone.

  The woman, wrapped in a sleeping bag, in the bottom of a canoe, on a river in the middle of nowhere, was not alone, afterall there was the man at the stern working the canoe.

  The woman in the sleeping bag felt her muscles twitch. Ever so slightly, but not enough for the man behind her to notice. For a moment she became aware of her surroundings, the slushing sounds of the water against the metal hull, the movements of the canoe and the crushing pain that seemed to be everywhere in her body.

  She tried to think, but couldn’t remember her own name. She tried to open her eyes, but everything remained dark. Dark and warm and humid. She felt fear building within her, becoming sheer terror. She tried to free herself from the confines of the sleeping bag, only to find she could not move at all.

  The scent of the man drifted past her. She took a deep breath, taking comfort in its familiarity.

  What is happening to me, she thought. The thought did not last but a moment. The sounds of her surroundings faded away, to be replaced by the pounding of her heart, then silence.

  Chapter 1

  I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why, at least not precisely. Perhaps the humidity, most certainly the heat!

  Sure, we have air conditioning. Who doesn’t these days? I, for one, have never been able to figure out how our forefathers managed without AC and in those heavy clothes they wore.

  It still felt sticky and hot in the house, and I felt myself adhering to the sheets. Needing to go to the bathroom and being unable to move contributed to my growing discomfort. I slowly tried to extract my leg out from under Tom. He moves in his sleep and can sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position. I don’t know how he does it, but that is how he has always been. And I’m sure that is at least one of the things I love about him.

  But that did not help me tonight, right now. Right now I needed to get up and go pee, and then I would need to adjust the AC or something. I slowly pulled my leg out from under Tom and managed to get out of bed without waking him or taking the sheets with me.

  Feeling better after the pit stop in the bathroom and a glass of cold water, I opened the French doors leading from the kitchen out to the deck. Glass of water with me, I sat in the porch swing. A whisper of a breeze moved strands of my hair and cooled the sweaty skin on my neck. I inhaled deeply. Aahh… around me the air smelled sweetly of cut grass and damp soil. The moon, almost full, bathed the backyard in a cool, white light. I just sat there, my legs curled up under me, letting the gentle motion slowly rock me. After a while I noticed movement among the bushes planted along the wooden privacy fence and watched a big ‘possum amble along, oblivious to my presence. I watched as he moved toward our little shed and made a mental note to have Tom check and make sure we did not have a family of ‘possums residing in the back of it. One year a skunk decided to have her babies in our shed. We couldn’t use our backyard for weeks. Even the dogs got sprayed, it was just a mess. We don’t live all that far out of town, but obviously far enough to attract animals.

  The possum had disappeared in the area of the shed and somewhere off in the distance, I heard a train whistle and the hooting of an owl. “Too much going on out here”, I said to myself and got up to go back to bed. In the kitchen a little green fan on top of the refrigerator caught my eye. Ahh, I smiled and brought it along into the bedroom. The fan’s humming and the slight breeze helped me relax and soon I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

  I woke up to the delicious scent of fresh coffee drifting in from the kitchen. Tom obviously had been up a while and had fixed breakfast. Tom is awesome! He is my husband and I must admit he spoils me rotten. Tom teaches history. He loves his job and he loves kids. That is also obvious in our daily life. He is very much involved with our son, Allen, and his Cub Scout Troop. He tells me, if we as parents don’t take an active role in our children’s lives, they will not take an active role in their children’s lives and that will ultimately be the end of civilization as we know it. When it comes to kids, Tom gets very passionate; his blue eyes light up and, I swear, become even more intensely blue then they already are. Competition for Paul Newman!

  They also do that when we make love. My Tom is pretty passionate about a few things.

  I felt movement on the bed and slowly opened my eyes, just as Tom handed me a steaming mug and smiled. He knows I wake up slowly, especially on weekends. I like a cup of coffee with something sweet in it; no questions, no need for conversation, just a few minutes of quiet to make the transition from blissful sleep to everyday humdrum. And usually, right along with my cup of coffee, I take a shower. It feels good to step out of the shower, wipe the steam off the mirror, let those last sips of coffee warm my mouth, and then face the day.

  Well, I wasn’t about to change my routine this morning. I was still waking up when Tom stuck his head in the door.

  “Sam and Marty just pulled up. We’ll load-up and have some coffee until you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” I yelled over the sound of the shower, not sure what he had said. It really did not matter, I was not awake enough to absorb it. Besides I was trying to figure out why on earth I bothered to shampoo my hair when in a couple of hours I would be all sweaty and on some river in the middle of nowhere. Since I could not answer my question, I chose to apply conditioner, rinsed and stepped out of the shower feeling gorgeous, at least for the time being. I opened the bathroom window and listened to the sounds of the world outside. I may not be fully awake, but I love this time of day. The air smelled fresh, sweet and clean; and the world seemed full of promise of a great day to come.

  Stowing our gear was quick since we already had loaded most of it into Sam’s van last night. This being an adults only trip, we had taken Allen to visit Tom’s parents for the weekend. Of course he pouted, but Grandpa would help him get over it. I wasn’t worried; I felt strangely free, a reborn kid headed out to camp.

  We had been planning this trip for a couple of weeks. Sam had known about this little river for some time, but had just recently started telling us about it. Isn’t much, he had said, just a little gravel-bottom river. Too shallow for speedboats, not fast enough for the whitewater crowd, but perfect for us. We could leave early Saturday morning and be back by Sunday evening. Easy in, easy out, piece of cake.

  Yes, I thought, it would do us all some good to just get away from it all. I looked forward to living in a swimsuit for a weekend, away from phones and computers and the everyday nonsense.

  Tom and Sam have been best friends since first grade and remained very close through marriage, kids and different career paths. Tom decided in college to be a teacher. Sam always knew what he wanted to be. He works for the Conservation Department. I do not know exactly what he does, but he is outdoors pretty much all the time, seems to know everyone and loves what he does. I almost think he loves his work more than he loves his wife Marty. Sam met Marty while he was in college. She used to cut his hair. Sounds strange, but Marty is a Beautician. Now she doesn’t cut hair anymore, heck she doesn’t work much anymore, not since the kids came. Nowadays she only does nails. I used to laugh about that, you know doing nails just never struck me as much of a career choice, but then Sam shared with us how much money she makes doing nails and I won’t laugh anymore. Perhaps I am in wrong line of work.

  While Sam is dark-haired, stocky and muscular, Marty is fair-skinned, blond and petite. In recent years Marty has gotten into tanning and now works on her tan year-round. Not for me, but it looks good on her. Sam and Marty are just such opposites. Sam is down to earth, real. Marty? Well, Marty is shallow, superficial and phoney. I do not think she knows real happiness, but she ca
n fake it alright.

  When Sam’s parents were killed in that terrible car wreck years ago, Sam inherited their little farm. Well, not that little; about 240 tillable acres and the little house on the bluff overlooking the Missouri River where he grew up. In those days it had been out in the country, but now it is on the outskirts of town. Sam and Marty were newlyweds then and Marty was pretty peeved when Sam moved them into the little farmhouse. Sam ignored her and began an extensive restoration that took almost two years. Along the way he sold most of the land, keeping ten or so acres surrounding the house. The buyer developed the area into a prestigious upscale subdivision, thereby increasing the value of Sam’s property. When the restoration was finished, the small white frame farmhouse had become a sprawling white split-level home, the envy of the neighbors, with beautifully refinished hardwood floors, a huge stone and brick fireplace and a large deck with Jacuzzi overlooking the Missouri River and the expanding city. When Marty realized that her house was more than equal to her neighbors’ and in one of the most desirable neighborhoods she stopped nagging Sam to sell the old house and move into town. Their son was born ten months later. Now Sam and Marty have two kids. An eight year old boy and a five year old daughter.

  I waved at Marty, but she did not acknowledge the greeting, just snuggled deeper into her pillow. Oh well, I am not much company early in the morning either, but a wave would have been nice. Marty is an odd duck. She doesn’t talk much, usually just sits there and smiles. I have often wondered if we overwhelm her. We are all pretty outgoing, loud and boisterous, and she is quiet and seems downright shy. Tom thinks she is just intimidated, but I don’t think so. While we look for substance, Marty just looks at appearance, it is shallow but that is what it is. I have tried to get closer to her, but we have nothing, absolutely nothing in common. She never has a hair out of place. My auburn hair is short and usually windblown. I like an easy wash-and-wear hair style and do not own a can of hairspray, while Marty has “different sprays for different days”. My fingernails are short and nail polish drives me crazy. Marty’s nails are long and always immaculately manicured. They need to be since she does it for a living. I do not understand why she even comes to these outings, she does not enjoy them and if we get into some heated debate she does a turtle-act and withdraws into a shell. I once mentioned that to Tom and he laughed at me. “Honey”, he said, “Sam did not marry her for her brains.” Yup, Marty is the airhead of our group.

  We made a brief stop to connect with Ralph and Sandy. They don’t live far from us. Tom and Sam met Ralph at some point during their college years. Tom said they sort of adopted him and introduced him to the great outdoors. Now he works in IT. Sam calls him a nerd, but I don’t think he is. I think he is just a very smart guy with a very weird sense of humor and a serious lack of common sense. He runs the computers that run the state’s prison system, which is where he met Sandy. They both love to tell people they met in prison.

  Sandy used to be a prison guard, oops make that Corrections Officer. Actually hard to believe of someone her size. She started out pushing buttons and opening doors, but one day she happened to walk in on a fight in progress and broke it up. Doing so she actually saved a fellow officer’s life and, as a reward, was given the opportunity to choose her assignment. She chose to become Training Officer. She no longer wears a uniform and is actually really good at her job. I think it is because she gets to tell lots of people what to do and she really enjoys that.

  Once again the men took care of the gear and Marty stayed in the van, sleeping. I helped Sandy with the last minute stuff only she can dream up. Sandy can be a real bitch, always has been, always will be. I do not understand what Ralph sees in her. But then I also wonder if maybe some people say the same thing about Tom and me. I have never known anyone who can make something out of nothing the way she does. She complains, nags, whines, screams and cusses like a drunken sailor. At times I have been embarrassed to be in her company and then there have been times when she was so considerate, it just blew me away.

  Today was not one of her better days. Apparently she had been after Ralph since last night. He had dropped off their two kids at his sister’s for the weekend. She, however, had made arrangements for them to be with her brother. Sandy does not care for Ralph’s sister and it is a mutual dislike! Ralph, not knowing of the arrangement, found himself the landfall of Hurricane Sandy. By the time we arrived the dust still had not settled and it was quite obvious that Ralph had gotten very little, if any, sleep.

  I looked at Tom, whispered “I love you” and squeezed his upper arm. He told me once he had noticed I seem to do this a lot after we have been with Ralph and Sandy. I guess, after listening to all the bickering, I just want to make sure he still remembers that I love him.

  Sandy’s last minute crisis of the day was about how many towels everyone had taken along and did we all have dry clothes and warm stuff for the night? The towels kept her going on and on; she did not rest until she had packed up every towel in the house and had designated those we could not use if we were muddy or in any way dirty. Wet was okay, but dirty was out of the question and it did not matter that we had our own. I suppose you could consider Sandy to be compulsive, perhaps obsessive. I’m no shrink, I just know she is a bitch, positively nuts and I like her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Finally we were on the way. The world seemed at peace, everything had a golden glow, smelling fresh and clean. We followed Sam, with Ralph bringing up the rear. For close to an hour we stayed on the highway, then we turned onto a narrow blacktop road. Where the highway had simply cut through the hills, the blacktop just followed the ridgeline providing us with a magnificent view.

  I felt surrounded by an ocean of green. Not just one kind of green, but many shades of green, from light to almost black, broken up by little farmhouses, with reddish brown barns, looking like islands in this ocean of green. The sky was an unbelievable array of colors. Toward the west it was a deep, dark almost black blue turning slowly into a royal blue and further to the east into a brilliant blue with golden rays of light jutting up like arrows. The few feathery clouds shone golden against the bright blue and the chattering of the birds was loud enough to be heard inside the truck. So much to look at, so much to cherish!

  I took a sip of my coffee, yuk! I had gotten hold of Tom’s cup. He likes his coffee black, I prefer mine sweet. It’s really his only fault.

  Up ahead, Sam turned off the blacktop and onto a narrow gravel road. We bounced around a little at first and then settled into a comfortable speed for the road conditions.

  “I’m sure glad it’s still damp outside. They must have had rain here last night.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Well, we’d be eating Sam’s dust by now.”

  “I was up last night, couldn’t sleep. We have a ‘possum setting up housekeeping in the shed.”

  “A ‘possum? I’ll check it out when we get back. Big one?”

  “Yeah, pretty big. Did you remember to turn off the coffee pot?”

  “Yup, I did. I got the last cup and yes, I turned it off. Don’t worry.”

  I really wasn’t worried; I was just going through my mental checklist. That is one of my peculiarities. Everybody has something and mine is making lists. Never really gave it much thought. I just make a mental list and mentally check things off and then I’m done. It helps me relax, it’s me.

  I started feeling good, relaxed and happy. We no longer followed the ridge, but were in the valley, driving through field corn about six feet high with black-tasseled ears and past patches of woods and pasture land.

  “Watch the fields, babe,” said Tom, “I wouldn’t be surprised to see some deer out here.”

  We passed a couple of old buildings, they appeared to be abandoned barns and our passing stirred up a flock of black crows. Then, as we came around a corner, we suddenly found ourselves face to face with five beautiful deer. I saw one big buck, his antlered head held up proudly and cautiously. I could no
t count the points on him, we were too far off, moving too fast and he did not hold still. The does were not quite so shy.

  “Just try to convince me they don’t know it’s not hunting season yet.”

  Tom just nodded in agreement. “Yup, I think I know where Sam’s been going deer hunting. While we froze on that raggedy tree stand, he sat up here in one of these old barns. Probably had hot coffee too. The bum never said a word about this place; I’ll have to talk to him about that.”

  Up ahead of us I saw Sam’s brake lights come on.

  “I guess that’s where we’ll eventually finish.”

  “Looks like a nice spot.”

  We rounded the corner, went down a little slope and around one more corner and there was Sam, leaning against his van, sipping his obligatory mug of coffee. It looked funny to me.

  “Farmer Sam looking over the day’s work,” I said to Tom, but I don’t think he found the view as funny as I did.

  We quickly unloaded our Blazer into the other two vehicles. It amazed me that neither Sandy nor Marty got out. I was glad we would be riding with Sam and Marty the rest of the way; I couldn’t deal with the fighting in Ralph’s truck. Tom must have read my mind. He shifted the gear into Ralph’s, leaving room for two passengers with Sam. Yes, much better!

  Tom moved the Blazer out of the open field into the shade of the trees, off to one side. I watched him, suddenly very much aware of sadness within me, a dreading of something to come. I felt a lump in my throat and very much wanted to call out to Tom, tell him to just take me home. But the logical half of me could not justify my feelings of dread and so I climbed on board with Sam and Marty. As we drove over to where Tom was just climbing out of the Blazer, I could tell by Tom’s facial expression he was relaxing and enjoying himself. So I hugged him, one of those big, bear hugs and said a silent prayer for our safe return.