Desert Son Trilogy: Desert Son, Wayward Soul, Spiritual Intervention (Books 1-3)

by Glenn Maynard

  “Hold on… hold on!” The gravely male voice sounded annoyed as if people were ringing his bell all day. He passed through the doorway that was made up of hanging beads strung together. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties, bald, except for whisks of hair on either side of his brains. Both of his hips appeared to be shot because of the way he rocked back and forth just to produce a forward motion. His right eye was not good in any way, shape or form. Carter did not know where to look and felt uncomfortable trying to figure it out. He just looked between the two of them, but no matter what he did, he still returned to that eye. It was foggy, perhaps glass, but it seemed as if the man popped it in himself to save a couple of bucks. It just looked wrong, like a bad rug. Carter did his best to pretend not to notice, but still felt as if the guy knew he was looking at it.

  “Whagan I do you fer,” the motel man grumbled.

  “We’d just like a room for the night,” Carter replied.

  “Fer the night or fer the day?”

  “Well, we’ve just been traveling all night, so we figured we would… ”

  “Fer the night or fer the day?”

  “I was just explaining that we probably… ”

  “Can you just tell me fer the night or fer the day?”

  “Fine… fer the day, but if we… ”

  “Fiffy dollars… cash only.”

  Carter looked back at Brenda. She had a smirk on her face as she was enjoying this a little more than Carter. She actually had to cover her face with her hand and turn completely around before the gruff old motel man banned them from staying there. Carter was getting irritated, and turned to the motel man and said, “Excuse me, kind sir… do you accept American money?”

  “Sure do,” the motel man replied. “Washington, Lincoln, and whoever the other dumb fucks are on the bigger bills.” He rested his weight on the counter as he held his rounded body up with his hands. He accepted a fifty dollar bill from Carter, banged a button on the register, and tucked it safely away. “Here’s the key, and out by midnight.”

  “Midnight? We have been travelling all night and may… ”

  “I asked fer the night or fer the day… and you answered fer the day. What part of that question gave you problems?”

  Now Carter was pissed. No wonder there were no cars in the parking lot, he thought. He glared at the man. Yes, he looked him straight in that eye, and said nothing at first, but the guy didn’t even flinch.

  “Come on Carter,” said Brenda. “That is clearly the guy’s personality. He doesn’t know any better.” She said this loud enough for the motel man to hear.

  Carter took the key from the man, and they turned and walked away. He couldn’t fix the guy, and anything he said would have done nothing but force them back onto the road in search of another seedy place to lay their heads. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it until their departure. That’s when Carter figured he’d get his retribution. That was it. Carter wasn’t one to let this type of behavior go, and he was shocked that Brenda insisted that he let it go. She actually was amused by it. Maybe she was just overtired. They grabbed the key and walked to their room. Out of all the motel rooms in that L-shaped layout, their room was right next to what appeared to be the only other room that was occupied.

  As they hauled their suitcases to the dumpy motel room, they opened the door and a stuffy, moldy aroma invaded their nostrils. A small, square room with a queen-sized bed awaited them. Carter knew immediately that Brenda would be bumping his feet; they would be protruding from the end of the bed. The bed was short, much shorter than his queen at home, and she still knocked his toes every time she went by. The TV was about 20 inches with a large back, and sat atop a small, dark brown chest of drawers. The bathroom was right next to the dresser, and there were insects taking a bath in the small puddle of water left behind from the previous guests.

  “This’ll have to do,” said Brenda.

  “Yup… until midnight, anyway, and no showering,” Carter replied.

  Brenda made a face and shivered. They got into their night clothes after ruling out a shower, and crawled onto the stiff bed. There was nothing comfortable about it.

  “I’ve slept on a softer bed when I camped out in a tent on the ground,” said Carter, amused.

  “We’ll be out of here by midnight,” Brenda replied, “that’s for damn sure.”

  Brenda kissed Carter goodnight and rolled onto her side, and very nearly rolled off the bed. They tried to carve out niches in the mattress, but some things weren’t meant to be. They finally got still, and then heard some movement on the other side of the wall from where their heads rested. Then they heard a woman’s voice. Then they heard a woman moaning. The moaning got louder and louder, culminating in a loud scream. The beds needed better shock absorbers. It was a short disruption, but then there was silence.

  Within five minutes, they could hear a door shut and two cars start outside their door. Once the automobile roars faded into the distance, there wasn’t a noise to be heard.

  Brenda chuckled. “Goodnight Jim Bob.”

  “Good night Grandma.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Carter was packing his suitcase, trying to come up with a revenge plan against the motel manager. “What can I do to the guy?”

  “I don’t know,” said Brenda. “Stuff up the toilet? Take the towels? No, don’t do that!”

  They both laughed hysterically. They weren’t taking a damn thing from this filthy place. They looked around as they walked through the dumpster of a dimly lit parking lot.

  “You know what?” Carter began to form a thought. “I don’t need to do a damn thing to this guy. There’s not a thing I can do to make that guy’s life any worse. God already did the damage.”

  They quickly jumped into the car and drove away from the hole, just as the clock struck midnight. Carter did the majority of the driving, until the sun began to rise and smacked them both in the face. Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania were on the horizon, and they sawed those states in half in a tag team effort with a switchover every two hours. They had decided that they were better off driving the duration nonstop, because of what they ran into when they did stop. No thank you, kind motel sir.

  After two full days, they landed at the house where Carter grew up in Boston, Massachusetts. Carter was driving for the last leg, since he knew the area well, and it was an incredibly bittersweet feeling. It was 2:30 PM on Wednesday when he shut the car off. They had left on Monday morning, so they made fantastic time. It was a good thing the motel man forced them out by midnight after all, because this 2000-mile journey was a long, paralyzing drive.

  Of course they were beat, but there was something wrong with Carter. He couldn’t move his legs. It was almost as if something was holding him back.

  Brenda got out and whipped around to the driver’s side and opened the door. “Here,” she said, “let me pull your legs out of the car and to the ground. Maybe they’re cramped.”

  Carter agreed to let her help, but he felt mesmerized by his old house. Sure he had just finished a 2000-mile car ride, but so had Brenda, and she was fine. Sure he should be smacked in the face with nostalgia and have bittersweet emotions in returning to the house in which his adoptive parents had raised him prior to their untimely deaths in that car accident. Then his best friend had been living there until his brutal murder just days ago. Damn, he thought, no wonder why my legs are paralyzed. I don’t want to return.

  Once Brenda successfully got Carter’s feet to the ground, he snapped out of his trance as Cynthia emerged from the house to greet them. Brenda had never met Cynthia, and Carter had only spoken with her a few times on the phone, so it was the first time they had met in person. Cynthia had a great big per
sonality, and gave them both tight hugs once they made it out of the car and onto their feet. All of the bugs seemed to be out of Carter’s legs, so they were all able to carry suitcases and bags into the house.

  “Come right in,” said Cynthia. “You guys must be exhausted. I can’t believe the time you made. I appreciate you coming down on such short notice. I’m all alone here and I can’t believe… ” Cynthia put her hand over her face before finishing, “… he’s gone.” Then she let loose and the tears began to squirt out the sides of her eyes in dramatic fashion. She had been alone with this murder for four days.

  Brenda attempted to put her arm around Cynthia, but as she did, Cynthia’s Knees gave out and she dropped to the floor like a wet towel. Carter was nearby, but could only reach her post-thud. He was too late. She had collapsed to the ground.

  “Get some water,” yelled Brenda, “and a towel… wet it!”

  Carter jumped to his feet and whipped through the house to the bathroom. Fortunately, he knew the lay of the land. He jerked open the closet and reached in, grabbing the first towel he touched. Quickly turning around, he turned on the cold water from the sink, doused the towel, and squeezed it out gently, but swiftly. He ran back to Brenda, who had Cynthia’s head propped up with a couch pillow. She was softly slapping her cheeks. “Cynthia… wake up. Cynthia… are you okay?” Then she turned to Carter, grabbing the towel and patting down her face, beginning with the forehead and moving up and down both cheeks.

  Carter ran for a glass of water for when the time came, returning and setting it down on the floor by the door. “Angie,” Carter mistakenly yelled. Brenda looked at Carter just as Cynthia began to stir. Carter and Brenda then looked at the direction of the squirm, and Cynthia was showing signs of opening her eyes. Then she did, and stared up at them with a look of confusion and embarrassment painted onto her face.

  “It’s okay,” said Brenda. “You’re fine. You just slipped. Here’s some water,” she said as Cynthia grabbed the cup from Carter’s hand. “You just fainted. It’s normal considering all of the stress you’ve been going through. You need to be strong. By the way, I’m Brenda.”

  Cynthia sat up on the floor and wiped the wetness from her face. “Hi Brenda, I’m Cynthia. Wow… I’ve never done that before.”

  “Like I said… it’s common. You’ve been through a lot the last few days, and you did it alone. I commend you for that. You bounced back rather quickly.”

  Cynthia got to her feet with their help, then covered her face with her hands again and began sobbing. This time Carter was ready for her. He began imagining her dropping straight down again, and in his mind, he had a plan to catch her based on the shape of her body and the angle of her plummet.

  At this point, it was just tears dropping, and he was so glad that he had Brenda with him. This was not a man’s job. Only a woman could possibly know what another woman needed, especially at this time. Carter would have no idea what to do or say, and probably rack up a list of things not to say to someone in Cynthia’s shoes.

  He remained silent and let Brenda do all the talking, unless he received a cue to jump in. Only then would he do so, and guarded he would be. It seemed so natural for Brenda, even when the waterworks were turned to high.

  Brenda wrapped her arms around Cynthia and led her to the nearest seat, which was a brown leather couch in the living room. She eased her down with Carter’s help. “Here… lie back and relax.” She continued to dab her face with the cool towel. Carter and Brenda were both so tired themselves that they were ready to pass out, too. Brenda even snuck a dab to her own face on occasion.

  Carter could see in Brenda’s face how sincerely caring she was and that was another reason he loved her so much. She never put herself first, and she got a thrill out of helping others; making someone else’s day just a little bit better. Carter did not have an inkling of a clue as to what he would have done in this situation had he been alone. Brenda was his savior every step of the way.

  Cynthia was hyperventilating from crying so hard. Her world had been destroyed. Charlie was the man she intended to marry, and that was not going to happen now. Somebody prevented that from happening. Someone senselessly gunned him down during a botched robbery. Cynthia’s world was destroyed, and for the first time she was able to share her grief with someone.

  “My parents were both murdered when I was in high school,” she began, “and I was an only child, so I went to live with my aunt in Glastonbury, Connecticut. She was the only close relative I had left, and she died of cancer two years ago.” She let out a sharp wail, then regained her focus and returned to her story. “Auntie was very sick for years, so she never even got the chance to meet Charlie. She always wanted me to find a fine gentleman, but never lived to see it. I only dated one other guy before him. Auntie did meet that guy, but always told me that he was not the one she had envisioned.”

  Cynthia remained silent for a moment, and they could see her trying to think. “I really believe that Charlie was that guy. At least Auntie knew about Charlie from what I told her, so she died knowing that I had found someone special. That’s all she ever wanted for me, but Charlie and I never made it to her home.” Another sharp wail, and then Cynthia wiped the tears and continued. “I have nobody now. You guys are it. My hometown was in Ohio, so I don’t even have old friends. I had just started taking college classes here in Boston, and that’s when I met Charlie… in a bar.”

  Cynthia stopped talking and only sobbed softly at this point. Carter looked to Brenda for guidance. She made a helmet for Cynthia with her arms, rocking her slowly from one side to the other.

  “Charlie was a good man,” Brenda began. “We all know that. It was unfair the way he was swiped away from all of us by an evil hand. It’s not fair. It never will be fair. But Charlie’s in a good place now. We all know he’s in heaven.”

  Brenda looked at Carter sitting next to her on the couch and he pursed his lips. She continued to console Cynthia. “At least we have all of the fond memories that he created. We’ll always have that part of Charlie to help us through the hard times… like now. Just play the mental images of Charlie smiling, remember all of the good times you shared… and hopefully that will soften the pain.”

  Brenda took the helmet off Cynthia and made bookends with her hands on her cheeks. She moved in and kissed Cynthia on the forehead, then pulled back and released her hold. “We’re here for you, Cynthia. If there’s anything you need, then let us know. Now that we’re here we can help you.

  They moved into the kitchen and Cynthia reached into the refrigerator and grabbed some cheddar cheese, then into the cabinet for Wheat Thins. She cut the cheese and put out a platter for Carter and Brenda to munch on. She grabbed cups of ice water for them to wash it down and finally sat for a while discussing their memories of Charlie. There were so many memories of Charlie that they went back and forth sharing them. Cynthia discussed their plans to marry, and how she felt that she would never find anyone who would be able to stack up against the love of her life.

  Brenda was curious to find out about funeral services, and decided that it was a good time to get information about that now. “What have you done in regard to Charlie’s services? Just let us know what needs to be done and we can help you out in any way you’d like. We came all this way to do that. We really want to help.”

  “That’s all set,” said Cynthia.

  “What do you mean it’s all set?” Brenda asked. “There’s nothing left to do?”

  “All set,” said repeated. “Charlie’s wish was to be cremated, so his ashes are over there on the mantle.”

  There was a moment of complete silence. Carter and Brenda were stunned. They looked at Cynthia with their mouths hanging open, unable to believe what they had just heard. Oh, the sting they felt. They were instantly fill
ed with an empty anger and there was nothing they could do about it. The news challenged their gag reflex and deafened their ears. They sat there mortified, trying to recapture their breath.

  Once a couple of minutes passed by and they processed exactly what they had heard, they both slowly turned their heads around in unison in the direction of the mantle above the fireplace and saw a shiny white urn displayed proudly upon it. They finally looked at each other, and it was time for Carter to speak. “No services? This is it?”

  “Yes. That’s what Charlie wanted. We had talked about it. He didn’t want any fancy funeral or anything like that. He just wanted to be cremated. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  “Really?” Brenda shifted back in her chair. “Nothing less?”

  “I can’t believe this,” Carter said. “My best friend… and he’s gone, and we drove 2000 miles to see him off and he’s already off. I really find it hard to believe that Charlie would want this. I mean, I’ve known Charlie for a long time and… if I’m remembering it correctly… he actually never understood why people wanted to be cremated. It was so brutal, in his eyes. I… I’m just really having a hard time with all of this.”

  Carter was seething, but his tone was just enough so that he didn’t sound rude. He began to tremble as he thought of the nonchalant way that Cynthia had just delivered this news. It never even occurred to her that this news should have been released prior to this moment. He understood her shock with the death of her fiancé, but she also was aware that they had traveled from Boulder, Colorado to Boston, Massachusetts to attend Charlie’s funeral services. She never even thought to mention it. He did his best to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, it had been quite some time that he had been away from Boston, and people do change.