A 3rd Time to Die

by George A Bernstein

  But open jumping was judged solely by knock-downs, and no personal bias can color the results.

  She sighed, shifting uneasily on the hard, backless bleacher. Time to start home, where an invective surely awaited her. Keith was furious she jumped Injun in the show. He had no interest in what’s important to her. Why is he so intent on controlling everything?

  Well, I’m finally doing my things, whether he likes it or not. It’s not high school anymore.

  Their lives were so interlocked at New Trier High School… seemingly destined to be together. Would they have even dated if she hadn’t been practicing cheers and got knocked down as he chased an errant pass during football practice?

  But even from the first, everything always revolved around him… his football and his relentless push for his own gratification.

  He was so disconsolate after the Waukegan game, when O’Shay caught the winning pass.

  Gee, you'd think he'd be happy we scored, but it wasn’t his touchdown. Sue, ever optimistic, convinced her it was “just football.”

  We were so much in love, but all that heavy necking and petting bothered me. What was acceptable for a “Good Girl?” He relentlessly cajoled her into more and more intimate contact. She slowed his insistent groping, despite getting really turned on by all the physical stimulation.

  She’d descend into a glorious fantasy of uninhibited passion, sprawled on a lush carpet of grass in a shaded forest glade, surrounded by magnificent old trees. Mesmerized by that vision, her resolve weakened. She trusted Keith not to hurt her. After all, they were still just kids.

  But trusting Keith had proved a mistake.

  Ashley shrugged, casting away those memories. She was such an innocent. Nothing was served by rehashing that. She stood, tugging her riding vest in place, brushing wrinkles and specs of hay from her russet jodhpurs.

  Time to go. The kids would be excited to hear of Mommy’s adventures and see her trophies when they returned home from grandma’s. Too bad Keith manufactured a reason not to bring them to cheer for her. She missed having family in the stands, rooting her on.

  The face of that enigmatic stranger edged into her mind. A man she didn’t even know, pulling for her. Next time she’ll be more insistent. Her kids can see their grandparents anytime.

  Why can’t Keith just be happy for my success? Does he even love me anymore?

  Was it any safer to trust her husband now than it was, fourteen years ago, when he selfishly shattered her innocence?

  For the first time, she was beginning to seriously face newly hatched doubt.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "I can’t believe you went back again, after I told you not to ride in that stupid show!" Keith braced her as she joyfully burst through the double dark cherry paneled doors. The smile and warmth infusing her from her championship run wilted at the frigid blast of his invective.

  Scowling, balled fists jammed against his hips, he blocked her way across the black slate tiled foyer. Sidestepping, she hefted her silver trophy and three blue ribbons for him to see. He waved dismissively, snatching at her sleeve. She sighed.

  "You did, but I did it anyhow." She shook off his hand and headed for the family room and the trophy case.

  "You decided?” He trailed after her. “After I ordered you not to. What if…"

  "Ordered me?" She spun, her eyes aflame. "Who the Hell do you think you are, that you can order me to do anything?"

  "I'm your husband. It was for your safety. I didn't want…"

  "Right! What a laugh." She threw her trophies on the sofa. “You should’ve come… brought the kids… saw how exciting it was. Be interested in my things, for a change!”

  Her skin prickled, the thrill of her strangely exciting week-end flushed away by the cold bath of his animus. No surprise. He hadn't shown concern for anybody but himself for the last five years. Tiny rivulets slid down her tanned cheeks.

  "What’s happened to us, Keith? What’s happened to love?" her voice a bare whisper. She knuckled her eyes. He looked away, pulling on his right ear lobe.

  "I was concerned for your safety. Yours and the baby's. Isn't that love?"

  "The baby's? This thing you said you never wanted. That you ordered me to abort. You don't give a damn about the baby, Keith. I'm not sure you give a damn about me either."

  "Stop! Sure I care.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his tan slacks, shrugging. “Just having a bad time at work. Things aren't goin’ well, and the damned Board’s still workin’ off an outta date play book. Maybe I have been insensitive. I'm just preoccupied… trying to devise a new game plan that’ll get us a win. I'm sorry."

  He nodded, avoiding her eyes, and headed for the den and his evening scotch. She was alone with her shiny platter and ribbons, the joy of the weekend drained away, rushing down a slick, black whirlpool of despair. It would be two hours before Ricky and Beth returned from their Sunday with his folks. Her parents never even met Beth. She’d been thinking of them a lot lately.

  Mama would have loved seeing me win those events. But there was only one real fan there, that intriguing stranger who really seemed to appreciate what she did.

  Sighing, trying to dispel the dark gremlins swarming through her head, she strode across Brazilian cherry wood planked floor toward their bedroom and master bath. The bubbling hot jets of their whirlpool tub beckoned her aching limbs.

  Merde!

  She blinked, shrugging. Even that lusty French voice, whispering to her, brought no thrill.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ashley sunk lower in the big tub until only her face showed above fragrant, foamy water. The spa jets, set on low now after ten minutes of high-speed pummeling, continued swirled warm water against her body, licking her aches. Three days of jumping large fences had taken its toll. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She relaxed, trying to let her muscles go loose, but it was hopeless while she was so agitated.

  What had happened to them over the past eight years? They were so much in love in high school, so irresistibly drawn together, she the iron to his powerful magnet, clearly fated to marry.

  Lots of girls had casual sex then, but she vowed to save herself for that magical first night as husband and wife. Fulfilling that fantasy was a bulwark against his impatient aggression… his need for instant satisfaction. He almost destroyed their romance, when things were going so well.

  They’d driven to their favorite little hideaway off Sheridan Road, after New Trier won the Suburban League football Championship, beating Evanston with Keith’s last minute touchdown catch.

  They’d barely parked his father’s big Mercedes before he swarmed over her, and for the first time, his insistent hand made it inside her skirt, touching her there. She was in flames, drawn into the familiar fantasy she had constructed; a glorious, shaded forest glade, lush dew-damped grass, bordered by a bubbling brook, set deep in a mysterious oaken woods. It was the ultimate place of tenderness and love… and sometimes, crouching in the deep shadows, a hint of terror.

  Strange that while this delicious illusion only blossomed during her passionate trysts with Keith, she somehow sensed he never quite fit comfortably in that fantasy. But that Indian Summer afternoon everything seemed perfect… until she realized her panties were gone and he was looming over her, one leg wedged between her knees, his swollen penis magically freed from his trousers, hovering like a cobra, preparing to strike.

  She twisted and squirmed, struggling to wriggle away, the leather armrest blocking her escape, as she tearfully begged him to stop. Finally, outrage supplanting panic, a sharp knee rammed forcefully into his groin, ended their evening… and their romance.

  I trusted him and he stripped me nearly naked! And I actually allowed him to do it! Hell! He tried to rape me!

  Ashley wallowed in the cavernous tub, hands fluttering, feet thrashing, as if drowning in a memory not revisited for twelve years. Pushing up, she sat with dripping hands covering her eyes, elbows wedged against her knees, struggling for air. Gaining c
ontrol, calming the crescendo in her breast with two slow, deep breaths, she heaved herself from the tub, draped in a large towel, tears streaking her cheeks.

  I was so naive, wanting to believe in love, but Keith was all about Keith, despite whatever else he claimed? I suppose I’m a typical woman, expecting her man to change, but I guess nothing really has, after all these years.

  Jesus! How did things get so out of hand then? I knew it was wrong, even if we were in love. Was it my fault, teasing him out of control? She shook her head, barking a quiet laugh.

  Just like me, finding excuses for everyone but myself. Truth is, he tried to rape me! No other word for it. I said “no” more than once, but he kept pressing.

  So, why was she still so consumed with him after that? Swimming in hateful desire… a burning need to be with him?

  So, I thought I was in love. So what? How do you love someone who doesn’t respect you? Who only thinks of himself? It should have been over.

  Despite anger, her thoughts had remained crowded with all things Keith. Hot, sticky, needful thoughts. She’d been swept up by that idyllic vision of a pastoral clearing, a gurgling brook and sweet passion… despite sensing something important was missing. It was a place she never expected to share again with Keith after that painful evening.

  But things change and here they are. She finished drying, running a hand down her barely protruding abdomen.

  Not bad for thirty-two and a mother of two. I look fit without even trying. Riding Injun’s tightened everything that went soft, once I got over the early aches and pains. I was really stiff, those first few days. She opened her closet, looking for something to wear.

  Can’t understand why he’s so angry about the horse? It’s so petty. We can’t even talk about the simplest things.

  There’s no connection anymore, despite the new baby… a miracle child… coming. Things are gonna have to change.

  We can’t live like this forever.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Damn the wanton bitch," Craig Thornton grumbled, looking at his solar powered Casio.

  "Midnight! She must be having one Hell of a good time."

  Toni was either sloshed into oblivion, or shacked up with some dilettante stud.

  Or both.

  She was so damned cavalier about her affairs, and well on the way to becoming a full-fledged alcoholic. Why not? It seemed a family tradition.

  He'd been so naive, thinking her upper class, high society parents were laid back and mellow. They were really stewed most of that time. Mellow was easy when you don't have to work for a living, and lubricate your lives with a pint or two of gin or scotch every day.

  What really angered him was Toni’s lack of guilt over her frequent sexual forays. That's just the way they did things. Very European… if she bothered explaining at all.

  What possessed him to marry her? What a fool! Who was it who said God gave man a penis and a brain, but only enough blood to fill one at a time? He let his cock rule his head. She was the sexy nymph, volcanic in bed, snaring him with the high-voltage energy of her passion, her amazing sexual appetite. He confused her insatiable lust with love. Easy to believe it was Nirvana.

  She came from "old money." Real WASP robber barons. Indolent wealth, but nice people. She would never have given him a second look if he hadn’t changed his persona. She chose him over a gaggle of suitors because he was different… curly dark hair, with Mediterranean complexion and rugged good looks… very non-WASP. He never challenged her parents’ belief in his Norman ancestry. She didn’t know how different he really was, but one of the things he had loved about her was her fierce independence, not realizing then it was really her need to prove she was in charge.

  He gritted his teeth, his stomach roiling with molten lava. Or was that the frozen lasagna he'd eventually microwaved when he arrived home from the horse show and found both Toni and dinner missing? Heading for the bathroom and some antacid relief, he slipped, feet skidding out on the icy-slick floor.

  "Goddamn it!” He sat up, rubbing his right hip. “I keep telling the stupid maid not to wax the damned marble?" Explosive venting, plus the medication he finally reached, helped calm him.

  "Craig Thornton remains in total control." He laughed ruefully.

  Craig Thornton! Hell, what a joke. He’d come a long way from Yonkers. Someday, if this marriage fell completely apart, he might just blurt out the truth. But, the real gag was on him.

  He became Craig Thornton to hide his background and change his social position, but it was a hollow victory. Was this what he really wanted? There were no kids to play ball with or teach to ride. No live ones, anyhow. Marriage hadn’t guaranteed family, leaving him more alone than he ever dreamed possible.

  Her incandescent heat in the sack… screaming orgasms, one after another, and gasped pledges of eternal love… had deluded him. He never guessed how many other guys would share that pleasure. It reached a point over the past five years, when they did have sex… an infrequent occurrence at best… he used a condom.

  He desperately wanted kids… three or four… but didn't want to die trying. Who knew what distasteful, or even deadly things she may have acquired during her frequent nocturnal adventures.

  Craig readied himself for bed, vaguely hoping Toni wouldn't return before he was asleep. His need for confrontation had slipped away, cascading down into the deep, dark secure vault where he locked away all his anger, refusing to let it fester when nothing could be gained. Anger wasn't practical, and if Craig Thornton were one thing, it was practical. That's how he had gotten ahead in life, if you considered this getting ahead.

  Settling between flannel sheets, he took several deep breaths. In with the good air, out with the bad. Relaxing, slowly drifting toward dreamland, thoughts of the enchanting redheaded woman, jumping her big roan gelding, crept in.

  Such beauty and grace, both rider and horse. He had been happily mesmerized, filled with a pleasant sense of familiarity.

  Ashley Easton.

  Why had the very sight of her set tenterhooks into his soul? He wasn't sure, but he knew he would certainly see her again. The Open Jumping scene was a closely knit society.

  That thought brought a peaceful glow, as he finally slid into sleep, a single thought lingering in his head.

  Ashley Easton.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  What the Hell’s wrong with everybody?

  Keith hunkered over the mahogany bar, bisecting a corner of the dark cherry paneled family room, fixing his second scotch. He replaced the decanter on the mirrored shelf, his angry blue eyes glaring back at him. Snatching up his drink, spilling a few drops, he headed for the reclining, soft amber leather armchair where he could settle down and cool off.

  No one listened to him. His damned wife ignored his orders; his father had his head in the sand, unaware a lion was chewing on his ass; and the stupid Board of Directors was afraid to make a move. His whole world was going to Hell, and he was stymied everywhere he turned.

  What did Ashley want from him? He's her husband. She’s supposed to do what he says. But no… that rarely happens, despite his demands. And what's wrong with giving orders? His father gave them, and everyone listened… especially the women.

  Not Ashley. She jumped that fool horse while pregnant, in spite of him. Pregnant! How in the Hell did that happen? Anyone else, he’d think she were screwing around. But not prim and proper Ashley. The brat was his all right. A couple of drinks too many one night when Kristen was away visiting her parents in sunny Boca Raton. He’d been so damned horny.

  Kristen. That’s real sex, worth every penny he pays her. Not like Ashley, who starts out hot, then goes cold and stiff just when things should be getting good. What the Hell’s wrong with her?

  She’s his wife, and should cater to him, like all the Easton women did with their men. But she’s an only child and was pandered to as much as he. A fucking independent woman. Actually, a non-fucking, independent woman. He snickered, then shrugged.

&nbs
p; That’s the least of his problems. His gutless father and their timid Board were running the company into ruin. They refuse to spend money developing new products, and fear exploring moving their factory to some favorable Southern labor market. They can't believe their company’s big enough to build a new, modern factory with revenue bond financing, right in the midst of lots of cheap labor. They were rapidly falling behind their competitors, and if a move weren’t made soon, there’d be nothing left to worry about.

  Well, he could only do so much. No matter what happens, he'd still be safe. Ashley's parents were loaded, and saw that their only child would always live in style. That was one reason he married her. Sure, she was one the most beautiful girls at New Trier, and she seemed so hot. They were a magnet and iron, but even then he’d been clever enough to think about his future.

  Her parents were discreet with their gifts, though, like paying for the kids’ nursery school, and even buying their house. Plus a nice, untaxable gift yearly, but nothing really big! Now that the old bastard and his biddy were gone, the family booty, including the deed to their house, was tied up in irrevocable trusts for Ashley and their brats.

  He’d probably be gone by now, if it weren’t for that safety net. A lot more erotic than the almost compulsive heat they had for each other, so long ago. Nothing but dead embers now.

  He had loved her… whatever that was. She was gorgeous and classy, and it felt good to be with her. Except in bed. That was a disaster, as if she expected a boogie man to jump them. She never said "no," but her obvious tension took all the excitement out of their sex. He just concentrated on enjoying himself, and the Hell with her, if she couldn’t respond.