Escapade

by Susan Kyle

“Do the words ‘fat chance' strike a familiar note?”

  The contained humor was the last damned straw. She’d been certain that he loved her. Now she wasn’t. His behavior was as maddening as it was final. She sat back down at the table and deliberately poured herself a cup of coffee with hands that were unnaturally steady. “I assume you have a plane to catch,” she said stiffly.

  “So do you. If you see Brad,” he added reluctantly, “tell him that I asked about him.”

  “He’ll appreciate your concern, I’m sure.”

  He hesitated in the doorway, allowing himself one last look at her. She was so beautiful, sitting there almost strangling on her pride. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But one day she’d thank him for not putting his own selfish wishes ahead of her happiness. He’d become her first lover. She was letting her emotions blind her to reality right now. When she’d had time away from him,

  time to realize that her body had wanted him much more than her heart, she’d come to grips with it. Self-sacrifice had a warped nobility about it, but, God, it hurt!

  “Good-bye, Amanda,” he said softly.

  “Good-bye, Joshua,” she returned. She didn’t look at him. He walked away. The silence in the room became suddenly stifling. She looked into her coffee cup. It took a minute for her to realize that she could no longer see clearly what it contained.

  Gladys Johnson was in a private room at the general hospital, after having had her stomach pumped out. A handful of barbiturates, mixed with the amount of alcohol she usually consumed, had overloaded her system almost fatally.

  Sitting beside her bed, Ward Johnson was surprised at how old and worn she looked. He scowled as he discovered her frailty.

  “If she dies, I’ll cut your girlfriend’s throat,” Scotty muttered, looking at him with hate-filled eyes. He jerked at the voice, because he hadn’t heard his son come in.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he lied.

  “I saw you,” Scotty said coldly. “The Todd woman wasn’t quite quick enough. I looked in the window and saw you kissing that fat slut. You had your hand up her dress.”

  Ward put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m not that dim, Daddy,” he said sarcastically. “You’re running around on my mother, while she sits at home up to her eyeballs in booze. If you gave a damn, you’d make her get help.”

  He looked at his son irritably. “Sure. Like you got help.”

  Scotty shrugged. “I tried,” he muttered. “I went away and dried out. But when I came back and I had to watch the way she lives, I couldn’t take it. You treat her like dirt. You never even look at her.”

  “I can’t stand to look at her,” Ward exploded, whitefaced. “Damn you, she’s an alcoholic! She drinks all the time! When she isn’t drinking, she’s telling me what a simple-minded failure I am, a loser she hates having to tolerate. She hasn’t slept with me in sixteen years! How the hell am I supposed to treat her?!”

  “She’s your wife!”

  “Big deal,” he spat.

  “What does that fat slut give you? Love?” Scotty laughed coldly. “She gives you hot sex. That’s all she gives you. Maybe she tells you you’re handsome, huh? You’re a middle-aged man with a big pot gut and the compassion of a squirrel in heat!”

  Ward jumped to his feet and caught the boy by the collar, shaking him. “Don’t you talk to me like that, you piece of scum! You’re nothing but a juvenile delinquent! A filthy little thieving drunk, just like your mother!”

  Scotty pushed him away and tore loose. His glassy eyes glared at Ward. He pointed a shaking finger at him. “I’m going to fix you,” he said. “I’m going to kill that fat slut you’re sleeping with! And everybody is going to know what you really are!”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Ward began.

  “I’ll kill her!”

  Scotty slammed out the door. Ward felt chills run down his spine. He’d never felt so tangled in all his life. He stood over his wife’s unconscious body and looked down at her with utter disgust.

  “You miserable excuse for a human being,” he said furiously. “It’s all your fault!”

  But Gladys was beyond answering him. Five hours later she slipped into a coma and died.

  Ward was shaken out of his mind. He’d never dreamed that Gladys would do something so stupid. But he should have realized that her drinking was leading her that way. Scotty was right: he hadn’t paid her any notice lately, hadn’t cared that she might be on the edge looking for a way over.

  Scotty blamed him, and why shouldn’t he? He hadn’t listened to Gladys in years. Perhaps part of her wild behavior was due to his very indifference. He’d turned his back on her, and she’d killed herself. He had to live with that. That, and the guilt of knowing that while she lay dying, he was lusting after Dora.

  He telephoned the office to tell them about his wife. Amanda had taken time off to go to her best friend’s wedding that morning, but he told Lisa that he wouldn’t be in for a few days. Then he asked for Dora and cautiously told her what had happened.

  “Don’t go out alone at night,” he told her worriedly. “Scotty made some wild threats. You be careful.”

  “Your son? He knows about us?” Dora asked frantically, hushing her voice so that nobody in the office would overhear her.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but he does. He blames both of us for what happened to his mother. He’s wild drunk, and he doesn’t care how much damage he does,” he said. “Dora, I’m sorry I got you into this. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” She said it automatically, but she felt sick. If Edgar found out, she could lose her children. And that wasn’t the worst of it. What if Scotty decided to take his vengeance out on her sons instead of on her? She was suddenly stricken with the enormity of what she’d done. She’d put her secure, happy life at risk by engaging in a sordid love affair. And now her chickens were about to come home to roost.

  Mirri and Nelson Stuart beamed as they came out of the courthouse, marriage license in hand. Amanda, walking with them, was delighted for her friend. Mirri didn’t look anything like the frightened young girl she remembered from their childhood. In her off-white suit and orchid corsage she was beautiful and radiant, all the things a bride should be. Beside her, Nelson Stuart looked like a man who’d captured a fairy. He clung to his wife’s hand, while around them FBI agents congratulated them and went away trying to decide how the impossible event had come about.

  “They’re puzzled,” Mirri said, chuckling softly.

  “They can’t imagine how a stick-in-the-mud like me wound up with a pretty butterfly like you,” he teased, bending to kiss her forehead tenderly.

  “I think the women are wondering how I landed such a hunk,” Mirri replied.

  “And I know how a fifth wheel feels.” Amanda laughed, shaking Nelson’s firm hand. “You people go away and act like newlyweds. I’ve got a job press to run.”

  “Don’t let the boss get the upper hand,” Mirri cautioned.

  “Never in a million years. I’d wish you happiness, but you already have that. So I wish you half a dozen children and years and years together,” she added with a sadness that was lost on her friend.

  “You’ll marry one day,” Mirri told her, hugging her warmly.

  “No,” Amanda said. She returned the hug. “I’ll talk to you when you get back from your honeymoon. Love you.” She smiled at Nelson and walked back toward her car.

  Nelson clasped Mirri’s hand warmly, frowning after Amanda. “Something’s wrong there,” he murmured.

  “It’s Josh. Again. She’ll never get over him, and he’ll never want marriage,” she told him. “I feel sorry for both of them.”

  “I feel sorry for me,” he murmured dryly to lighten her mood. “I haven’t slept with you since the night you proposed. I ache all over.”

  Her eyebrows lifted gleefully. “That was your idea, you prude! You felt guilty that we’d jumped the gun and kept me at arm�
�s length for weeks!” She leaned into him, amazed at the ease and comfort of being intimate with him. “I’ve got half a mind to push you down in the grass and ravish you right here.”

  “Go ahead,” he challenged, grinning.

  “Oh, Nelson,” she said adoringly. “I do love you so!”

  “Same here, kitten. Let’s go back to my apartment and legalize the ceremony.”

  She chuckled as she slipped her hand into his. “Lucky, lucky me,” she murmured.

  “Double that on my account.”

  Amanda took her time getting back to the office. It was almost lunchtime, so she stopped for a sandwich and coffee on her way. When she got there she learned that Ward’s wife had died and he wasn’t expected back for several days.

  “Did anyone send flowers?” she asked when Lisa and Tim and Dora were gathered around.

  “Well, no,” Lisa asked.

  “I’ll call them in. How about assignments for the rest of the day?” she asked Vic and Jenny, the part-time reporters.

  “He didn’t give us any,” Vic murmured. “Sometimes he forgets.”

  “Advertising? Do we have the ad copy in hand?”

  “We’re missing four,” Lisa said. “They usually come in at the last minute, though.”

  “They won’t this week,” she replied. “Write down the names of the sales managers and their telephone numbers for me. Vic,” she added, “isn’t there a rally today at the civic center for one of the returning Desert Storm officers?”

  “Why, yes,” he replied. “But we usually pick up that kind of story from the dailies.”

  “Take a camera and go cover it,” she told him.

  He beamed. “Actually report a story?”

  “Get out of here,” she muttered.

  He laughed and ran for it before she could change her mind.

  “How about me?” Jenny asked.

  “Don’t you people listen to the news? An archaeologist is digging up a site over at Taggart Lane. They found some prehistoric bones in a construction area. See what you can find out. When you’re through, there’s always something going on at City Hall. Make friends. Ask questions.”

  “I thought you weren’t a reporter,” Tim mused when the others had gone about their business.

  “I associated with a lot of journalism majors in college.” She grinned. “I kept my ears open, too. While Mr. Johnson is away, we’re going to implement a few more quick changes,” she added shrewdly. “Game?”

  “You bet!”

  Like a whirlwind, she tore into the job at hand. She taught Dora how to paste up ads and use ready copy from the news services to fill holes around them. She called the tardy advertisers and diplomatically manipulated them into getting their ads to the paper a day earlier than usual. She noticed the date, figured a seasonal campaign for advertising, and began calling local businesses, while Lisa, for once, had a structured series of tasks at the word processor. By the time Amanda went home, she had enough copy for the front page and more than enough ads to put up two new pages.

  She fell into bed that night, and it was a good thing. She didn’t have time to worry about Josh or grieve over having been thrown out of his life. She was too tired to think.

  Dora had been restless around the office that day. When she went home she began checking windows and looking out them. Edgar puzzled over her behavior.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked her after supper.

  She gnawed her lower lip. Beside her, Tommy and Sid stared at her with the curiosity of preadolescent boys.

  “Yeah, Mom,” Tommy agreed. “You sure are dizzy lately. You even forgot us at ball practice last week.”

  “Yeah,” Sid muttered. “You forgot us.”

  She had to still her trembling hands. “Things have been very busy at the office,” she said to excuse her behavior. “But they’ll be better now that I’m learning my job.”

  “I heard that Ward Johnson’s wife died,” Edgar said. “Tragic woman. She drank, they say.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he has a son. That should be some comfort to him. Dora, this coffee is much too weak. Can’t you make it stronger? And you forgot to salt the peas.”

  “Yes. I’ll take care of it.”

  She went into the kitchen, listening halfheartedly to Edgar’s patient voice explaining homework math problems to the boys. She glanced back at him. He was a kind man, a good man. He wasn’t exciting, and she wasn’t passionately in love with him. But he’d provided for her and given her a good life and two wonderful sons. Now she stood to lose it all, because she’d been selfish and greedy.

  A sudden thump at the back door made her jump. Slowly she went toward it, her hand at her throat. Was it Ward’s drunken son, come to kill her? She peeked out the curtain.

  “Hi, Mrs. Jackson!” A redheaded boy grinned at her through it. “Can I come in? I’m going to do my homework with Tommy and Sid.”

  “Of course, Billy,” she said. She opened the door and let him in.

  “Gosh, you look funny, Mrs. Jackson.” He frowned. “You okay?”

  “I wish people would stop asking me that!” She laughed nervously. “Of course I am. Go right in, Billy.”

  He shrugged and went on into the dining room with his books, greeting the boys loudly. Dora leaned against the cabinet and took deep breaths. She had to get herself together!

  But the next day she was all thumbs at work. Amanda took her to one side.

  “This won’t do,” she said quietly. “What’s wrong, Dora?”

  The older woman started to prevaricate.

  “I know about you and Ward,” Amanda said, cutting her off. “Your private life is your own concern, but when you put my business at risk, you make it mine. I want to know what’s going on.”

  Dora didn’t question the self-command in Amanda’s voice. The younger woman was strong and efficient, and it seemed so easy to lay her burden on those slender shoulders.

  “Scotty is threatening to kill me,” she confessed shakily. She pulled at her fingernails. “He says it’s my fault his mother killed herself, because Ward and I… well, he drinks, like his mother did, and he’s crazy mean when he does it. He takes dope, too, Ward says.” She looked at Amanda with desperate eyes. “I wanted a little attention. Ward said I was pretty.” Tears rolled from her puffy eyelids. “Edgar never noticed me at all. Now I’m going to die, or maybe my boys are, and I brought it on all of us. Gladys Johnson would be alive except for me!”

  “Stop that,” Amanda said, refusing to let the other woman give way to hysterics. “Stop it immediately. You’re a grown woman. Certainly you’re old enough to know that you can’t play with fire and not get burned. Have you sworn out a peace warrant against Scotty, so that he can be arrested if he comes near you?”

  Dora gasped. “I can’t do that! My husband would have a fit. He’d want to know why!”

  “You don’t think he’ll find out?” Amanda asked quietly. “You can’t be that naive. One way or the other, your affair is no longer secret. Everyone on the staff knew weeks ago, Dora. If you don’t realize that, you’re fooling yourself.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Dora put her head into her hands and cried brokenly. “No!”

  “Listen to me,” Amanda said, tugging the woman’s hands from her contorted features. “You have to tell your husband the truth. I know it won’t be easy. But if he loves you, it won’t matter.”

  “He’ll take my children away,” she whispered. Amanda did not remind Dora that she could have taken time to think about her children before she leaped into Ward Johnson’s arms. The woman was distraught enough already.

  “Maybe not,” Amanda replied. “But your life may be in danger. And not only yours,” she added. “Everyone who works here and everyone who lives with you could find themselves right in the line of fire. First you have to tell your husband. Then you have to go to the police.”

  “He might be bluffing,” she cried, grasping at straws, “he might just be saying it!”


  “You can’t afford to take that chance,” Amanda said. “Neither can I.”

  At last Dora relented. “All right,” she said weakly, drained. “I’ll tell him tonight. And first thing in the morning I’ll go to the police.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amanda said, her green eyes sympathetic. “I know what it is to love without hope. But you’ve run out of options.”

  “I suppose I knew that already,” Dora replied. She went back to work without another word.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Amanda had the office running smoothly by the end of the week. She’d doubled the advertising revenue and the content of the newspaper in one edition. Leaving Dora to post bills, she’d sent Lisa out to take the rate cards and printing samples door to door down just one city block of San Rio. The response from the community at large, and advertisers, was exciting. In fact, she decided, it would pay to replace Lisa on typesetting altogether and turn her into a full-time advertising person. Now all she had to do was convince Ward Johnson that it was a good idea—a thought that rankled.

  She’d put Ward and his son to the back of her mind. The staff had sent flowers, but she hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d sent Tim instead, so that she could get the paper out with the help of the other employees. Wednesday was the day it was mailed. Papers had to be stamped and single-wrapped and taken to the post office. It had to be done quickly and efficiently, or all the advertising revenue would be wasted. Ward would know all that already, she rationalized, and understand her absence at the funeral. Despite her dislike for the man, she could still feel sympathy for his situation.

  Dora had promised to tell her husband about her affair and swear out the peace warrant against Ward’s son. But while she’d managed to make Amanda believe that she’d done both, she’d done neither. Her nerve had failed when she’d tried to explain her betrayal to Edgar. She couldn’t make herself hurt him. So the trip to the police was out, too. She just prayed that nothing would happen and that she wouldn’t be found out.

  Meanwhile it was business as usual. Ward came back to work early Friday morning, looking older and in need of comfort. Dora ached to pull him into her arms and give him solace, but there was no opportunity.