On Ice (Contemporary Romantic Thriller)

by J. D. Faver

  “Lorelei’s gone?” he asked. He sat on the edge of her bed, then took her hand in his.

  “She removed the drain tube and put on a pressure bandage. She said the hole would close by itself.” Lorelei had also asked her about the old fractures that showed up on her x-rays. When Rene couldn’t come up with a quick answer, Lorelei gave her the talk about spousal abuse.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” she had said. “You’re safe now. I don’t think Brett would let anyone hurt you and I’d be plumb put out myself.”

  “How do you feel?” Brett asked.

  “Exhausted. I could sleep for a hundred years.” She managed a smile. “Lorelei said it’s because I’m not breathing deeply enough. Not getting sufficient air.” She touched the nasal tubing looped around her ears providing a steady flow of oxygen. “She ordered a Respiratory Therapist.”

  “You just stay hooked up to that thing for a while.” Brett pointed to the bubbling oxygen concentrator.

  “Makes me feel like I’m swimming under water.”

  “Float, and that’s an order.”

  “Don’t make me laugh.” She held her ribs.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned solemn. “I came close to losing you. If Father Paul hadn’t heard the crash, you wouldn’t have made it. You couldn’t live long with a collapsed lung.”

  “I learned a new word. Pneumo-thorax, that’s what the doc called it.”

  “You hit the steering wheel hard. And the truck only has a lap belt, not a shoulder harness. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the truck was newer.”

  “Not your fault. I haven’t driven in bad weather in a long time. In fact, I really haven’t driven at all lately.”

  “Why not?”

  Rene shrugged her shoulders slightly, wincing as the pain registered. She didn’t answer.

  He didn’t press. He put her fingers to his lips and then held her hand to his cheek. “It’s all right. I don’t want you to leave here. Whoever’s out there, whoever’s frightened you, I’ll protect you. You and the children are safe here.”

  “I wish it were that easy.” She heaved a small wheezy sigh, wondering if Lorelei told him about the old fractures.

  “It’s easy. I love you, Rene. I want you here with me.”

  Tears stung her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. “I can’t let you get involved in my problems. Either they’ll work out or they won’t. If they don’t work out, please make sure the kids get to my sister Maddy Sanders in Houston.”

  “You’re scaring me,” he said.

  “I’m already scared, but I’m trying to make things right. Maddy’s husband is Dr. Ted Sanders. She’ll know what to do. She’s much stronger than I am.”

  ~*~

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mark entered the smoky bar. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Across the room, a line of purple neon reflecting on a silver background illuminated the back of the bar. Several people turned to him with openly curious stares. He needed a drink to get through this. He headed for the bar.

  A man wearing black leather pants looked him over. His well developed upper body bulged out of a white ‘wife beater’ undershirt. A slow grin emerged, softening his hawk-like features. “Hey baby. Buy you a drink?” He held out his hand.

  “You just stay away from him, you big freak.” Tommy caught Mark by the arm. “Marky is all mine.” Tommy wore snug jeans and a teal tee shirt with the sleeves and hem torn off, baring his soft white midriff.

  The hawk-man drew back, his eyes shuttered, he returned to his drink.

  “I got us a table,” Tommy said. “I’ll introduce you to my friends Lawrence and Candy. They’re really fun people. The band starts at nine. They’re so hot. You’ll just love them.”

  Tommy pulled Mark to the far wall, proudly displaying him like a well-groomed trophy. Many heads turned as they passed. Mark smiled and tried not to make eye contact.

  “Here we are dear one. Just plop your little tushie right here.” Tommy held out a chair for him and patted the seat.

  Mark sat and glanced across the table at a man and woman who looked fairly normal. He took a deep breath and felt a little of his tension drain away.

  “Marky, these are my friends, Candy and Lawrence.” He turned in his seat. “Can we please get some drinks over here?”

  Mark nodded to the woman. She had a cute, turned up nose and wore her honey colored hair in a June Allison bob. “Hello Candy.” He held out his hand to the male. “Hello Lawrence.”

  The man kissed his hand.

  The woman smiled and gave him a finger wave. “You got it backwards honey. I’m Lawrence and this is Candy.” Lawrence had a deep whiskey and cigarettes voice.

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” Candy gave Mark’s hand a squeeze before releasing him. “I have a little antique shop and Lawrence is an architect. What do you do?”

  Mark swallowed something tasting like bile but it was probably his pride. “I’m currently unemployed.”

  A waitperson in desperate need of electrolysis appeared wearing short shorts.

  “Do we all want Margaritas?” Tommy asked. “Seriously, Marky, the Margaritas here will just knock you on your ass.”

  “In that case, give me two.”

  The others laughed.

  “This is so going to kill my diet,” Tommy said. “Just look at this.” He raised the edge of his torn shirt displaying his milky white stomach with a naval piercing. He pinched the soft fat and groaned aloud.

  “Oh stop complaining, Tommy.” Lawrence gave Tommy’s flab a little pat. “You’re absolutely delicious, like a yummy marshmallow.”

  “So, Marky, what brought you to Houston?” Candy leaned toward him, squinting through the smoke drifting from Lawrence’s cigarette.

  “My lover left me,” he said. “Just disappeared. We were together a long time.”

  “C’est tragique!” Lawrence raised his eyebrows and drew down his lips in an elaborate pantomime. “Tell us all about it. What was his name?”

  “Rene. My lover’s name is Rene.” Mark took the frozen Margarita from the waitperson’s hand. He drank it too fast, bringing a stab of pain to his temples. It was a good pain. Something he knew and understood.

  “What did he do?” Candy asked.

  “Stayed home. Took care of me.” Mark drained the last of the Margarita. “I asked very little of Rene.”

  “Poor baby,” Tommy said. “I didn’t know you were on the rebound.”

  “You need another Rita.” Lawrence waved at the waitperson, raising Mark’s empty glass. “That’ll fix-a-rita you right up.”

  Candy placed his hand on Mark’s arm. “So you moved here to forget about Rene? We can help you forget that bitch.”

  “I won’t ever forget Rene. I want to find Rene.”

  “Oh, honey,” Tommy said. “Do you think that’s wise? When someone leaves it’s never the same, even if you try to patch it up. It’s best to make a fresh start.”

  “Rene can’t survive without me.” Mark reached for the next drink. “Rene is just waiting to be found.”

  “Good luck, honey.” Lawrence raised his glass. “To lost loves.” The others clinked their glasses to his and drank.

  “Ooh, look! The band is here.” Tommy pointed to the raised stage and bounced up and down in his seat. We’re gonna rock this house tonight!”

  Mark smiled, wondering how far he had to go to maintain anonymity in his hiding place. He just had to blend in until he could get a line on Rene.

  ~*~

  Who knew breathing could be so difficult? The Respiratory Therapist came out each day and made her breathe into a machine to increase the depth of her respirations.

  Rene contemplated the flames crackling in the grate. Brett’s fire blazed behind a gleaming brass and glass screen, much nicer than the ancient black one in front of the smoke charred fireplace at the cabin. Somehow, her heart longed to return to the cozy little place she had come to think of as home. Her wound was healing nicely,
but she still felt exhausted from the ordeal.

  “Mom?” Seth came to stand beside the sofa, where she sat with her feet on an ottoman.

  The baked warmth on one side of her face tingled as she deprived it of its heat source. “What’s up?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

  “Mrs. Jolly said to ask you if you need anything.” He propped his cheeks on his fists as he leaned on the overstuffed armrest.

  She thought a moment. “I don’t need anything Mrs. Jolly can give me.” She smiled sadly at her son’s quizzical expression. “Just tell her I’m fine.” Seth returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Jolly banged pots and pans. Rene had almost become used to the delicious smells emanating from this center of culinary delights.

  Another great meal. Doesn’t she know how to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?

  Just then, Brett strode onto the porch, stamping snow from his boots. He carefully removed them in the entryway, stuffed his gloves in a pocket and hung his jacket on a peg.

  She has him very well trained.

  The expression on his face melted her heart and made her feel guilty of uncharitable thoughts toward Mrs. Jolly.

  “How’s the patient?” He kissed her forehead before plopping down beside her.

  “Ouch! You could have said anything but that.”

  “How about, I thought about you all day. Does that sound better?”

  “A bit. What’s going on in the real world?” She tried to find a comfortable position so she could face him, but gave it up, returning her gaze to the fireplace. “Come on! Give me the local dirt.”

  “Let me see, local dirt?” He appeared thoughtful. “Honeybee said hello and asked if you needed anything.”

  “If anyone else asks that question, I may throw up.” She made a face. “There must be something juicy going on.”

  “How about, Dr. Chad’s truck at Dr. Lorelei’s both late at night and early in the morning. That’s pretty bold for this little town.” He slipped his arm around her.

  “Racy, indeed.” Rene nestled into the curve of his arm.

  “The only thing saving your virtue is your frail condition, plus Seth, Sara and Mrs. Jolly as chaperones.”

  “My virtue?” She slid a sidelong glance at him.

  “Of course. All schoolmarms must have spotless respectability. It goes with the territory.”

  “I don’t know if I can measure up,” she said, suddenly serious. “What if I’m not spotless?”

  “Rene, I don’t care if you robbed banks down below. I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t care if you’re a serial killer.”

  “Oh, yeah? Just wait till I smush your Cheerios. You’ll be sorry.” Peevishly, she stuck out her tongue.

  “I’d gladly sacrifice my oatmeal, my Cheerios, even my Cap’n Crunch for you.”

  “Even that?” She laughed, making a scrunching motion with her shoulders that passed for a hug. She leaned her head back against his arm. “Tell me more dirt.”

  “Pinky has been visiting with a lady from Sitka over the Internet. He’s planning to visit her this weekend. Logan and Gunnar are going to mind the store for him.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Got it straight from the horse’s mouth. He’s acting sappy as a teen-ager.”

  “He’s always pretty sappy.” She giggled again, her dour mood slowly lifting.

  “But, wait. I saved the best for last.” Brett smiled at her. “Guess who has a date this Friday night?”

  “Who?”

  “You have to guess,” he insisted.

  “Honeybee and any male breathing?”

  “Not even close. Mrs. Jolly. She and the Reverend are going to see a movie in Barlow Gap. Rated PG, of course.”

  Rene stared at Brett. “You just made that up to entertain me.”

  “I swear.” He gave her a solemn look and raised his right hand.

  “So, we’ll have an evening with one less chaperone?”

  “Exactly.”

  ~*~

  Ted watched his sleeping wife. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her. She was tough as twisted steel, but gentle and funny at the same time. She didn’t stir as he ran his fingers lightly over her silky hair. It could be the pain pills the hospital pharmacy issued her at discharge. It could be because she was happy to be at home in her own bed.

  He felt responsible for what had happened to her. She was willful and prone to rash behavior, but Ted knew he’d somehow let her down. After all their years together, he should have known that she’d reached her saturation point with being cooped up. He should have guessed that her next action would endanger her life. If he had been with her, she wouldn’t have been injured. He could have protected her. He wasn’t exactly sure how but he was certain he would not have allowed Mark to harm his wife.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, the only outward sign of his turmoil. He was through playing by the rules. He had to put a stop to Mark’s aggressions, no matter the cost. From now on it was open season on Mark Desmond.

  ~*~

  Mrs. Jolly twittered around like a schoolgirl. She’d twisted her silvery hair into a sleek coil and Rene could swear a little blush graced her cheeks.

  “I hope Nadine Burkes fixes a decent meal for Seth and Sara. It’s important for young children to have balanced meals, even when they stay all night with friends you know?” Mrs. Jolly addressed Rene, but her eyes hadn’t left her own image in the mirror. She practiced a coy smile on herself. “I honestly don’t know why the Reverend would want to spend an evening in my company, when he could have his pick of--of any number of women.” She smoothed the tendrils that curled around her neck tucking them into the neat do.

  Rene wondered what other women the Reverend might have to choose from. She refrained from reminding Mrs. Jolly that the scarcity of single women in Sad Horse was a topic for jokes. “I’m sure he prefers your company,” she said, tactfully. Sitting on the sofa, she tucked her feet under one of Mrs. Jolly’s prize afghans.

  “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.” She turned from the mirror to whisper, “He’s younger than I.”

  “Really?” Rene’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile. She judged that younger meant about fifteen years.

  By the time the Reverend Goodnight pulled up in front of Brett’s house, Mrs. Jolly was trying to talk herself into canceling the date. “I could just say I’m having a little headache. . .or you could tell him. That’s it! You tell him I’m not feeling well, and...and...”

  “I can’t do that.” She pointed to her oxygen concentrator. “Besides, I couldn’t lie to the Reverend. I think you should go. Have a good time. You deserve it.” And I deserve an evening without your constant smothering.

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Mrs. Jolly smiled, uncertainly. She straightened her shoulders and threw open the door. “Hello, Reverend.” Her normally strident voice took on a sing-song quality.

  “Good evening Willona.” He smiled as he fixed her with his piercing gaze. “Don’t you look lovely tonight?”

  “Oh, Reverend, how you do talk.” Mrs. Jolly turned a becoming shade of pink.

  “Please, Willona, you must call me by my given name.” He stamped the snow off his feet and crossed the threshold.

  “Yes, Josiah.” She closed the door behind him shutting out the cold night air.

  The Reverend and Mrs. Jolly chatted with Rene a few minutes and then took their leave.

  Rene leaned back and, removing the nasal cannula, closed her eyes.

  Brett surprised her by gently awakening her with a kiss. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

  “Does this mean my prince is here?”

  “I can be your prince.” He kissed her again, stirring feelings that had been buried somewhere within her.

  “Whoa! I’m getting dizzy. It must be a lack of oxygen.”

  “I think you need more mouth-to-mouth.”

  His kisses sent waves of passion coursing through her. A tingling sensation
deep inside reminded Rene of the pleasures a man and woman can enjoy. Better change the subject or I’m in big trouble. “Mrs. Jolly left our dinner on the stove, but you’ll have to serve.”

  “I think I can do that.” Brett grinned at her, the blue of his eyes contrasting sharply with his deeply tanned face. “Then we can take up again right where we leave off.”

  Rene took a deep breath, without the aid of the oxygen concentrator. I’m already in big trouble.

  ~*~

  “Ted, you don’t have to hover over me every moment.” Maddy had tried to take a nap but found it difficult to relax in Ted’s presence.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Mark isn’t lurking behind the drapery.”

  “One never knows.” Ted refused to be baited. He studiously cleaned his already clean glasses.

  “If you’ll just run along downstairs, I could catch a few zees, as Genna says.”

  “I’m quite enjoying your company or lack thereof,” Ted insisted. “Besides, you might take it into your head to climb out the window and drive yourself to visit a dental hygienist.”

  “I can’t even stand straight,” Maddy protested. “I doubt I’ll be hoisting myself out any second-story windows in the near future. I just want to take a nap.”

  “Go right ahead, dear one. I’ll be right here hovering over you.”

  “Oh, Ted.” She sighed in mock exasperation but couldn’t suppress a smile. “At least you could make yourself useful.”

  “How might I do that?” He noted the smile as he rose from the armchair.

  “I’m sure you can think of something. Not every part of me is injured you know.”

  “Is that so? And on which uninjured parts would you like me to make myself particularly useful?” Placing his glasses on the bedside table, he leaned close to her.

  “My lips are fine.” As she spoke she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingertips lightly tracing little swirls from his collarbones to his ribs.