7 Short Stories

by Curry, Edna

  “Someone’s coming!” I cried out.

  And apparently that someone knew that a truckload of cattle on this dead-end road at this time of night could only mean rustling. Because, as Hank sped away after Carl and John, I saw the car turn around and begin to chase us. No doubt they were also calling the sheriff.

  Hank sped up. Stones and gravel bounced noisily against the car as we passed the slower truck. We raced along for several miles. Then as Hank looked back to see if the truck had gotten away, he hit a patch of loose gravel and lost control of the car.

  I screamed as the car rolled. Then my head slammed into the windshield and I blacked out.

  When I awoke, I lay in a hospital bed. Aunt Alice sat in the chair beside me.

  She smiled and patted my hand when she noticed I was awake.

  “Oh, Aunt Alice, I’m sorry!” I managed to say through thick, bruised lips. “I didn’t know what they were up to until it was too late!”

  “We know that, honey. Hank told the police everything,” she said, apparently too relieved that I was okay to scold me. “Those three had been rustling cattle for months and selling them to a black market slaughterhouse. It’s a profitable business with the current high price of beef. That farmer got close enough to get the truck’s license number before he saw your accident and came to help you. And they’ve picked up the other two guys already, too.”

  “Was Hank hurt?”

  “No, he was lucky and only has a few bruises. But his car’s totaled and he and his pals will be in jail for a long time.”

  “And me?” I became aware a cast covered my left arm. I reached up to touch a bandage on my forehead. It hurt to move.

  “Doc says you can come home tomorrow. We’ll make a new start.”

  “You’re all wonderful to me, Aunt Alice,” I said, tears blurring my vision.

  She would never know just how big a new start it would be. At least she didn’t know about our love affair. She still thinks I’m an innocent young girl.

  And I’ll live up to her faith, I vowed. I feel so much more grown up, I know I’ll never fall for another smooth line like Hank’s. The next time I choose a boy, it will be for more important things than sexual attraction.

  ###

  A Pink Lady

  By Edna Curry

  Sandra smiled in answer to Jim’s chatter as they danced, trying to keep her mind on what he was saying, trying frantically to act normally so no one would suspect. She had to get through this evening somehow, and get home to think.

  “Your pink dress is gorgeous,” Jim said. “I love the way it brings out the dark shine of your long hair. Don’t ever cut it, hey, Baby? I just love long shiny hair.”

  “I’ll remember that,” she answered as the band struck up another waltz tune.

  Jack cut in, more than slightly drunk, though the party was only two hours old. Reluctantly, she moved into his arms and he unsteadily led her in the waltz steps. What would he be like by the end of it? Maybe that was the answer—just get too drunk to think. She could close it all out for a while that way.

  The music stopped and she allowed him to lead her to the refreshment table. He handed her a drink and she slowly sipped at it, then made a face. It was pink and frothy sweet, a horrible concoction. “What is this?”

  “’s called a Pink Lady,” he said, grinning. “Sounded like just what you look like to me, Doll.”

  “It’s fine,” she lied. She gulped it quickly to get rid of it and felt the warm glow in her stomach. Potent, anyway. But he was wrong. The name didn’t fit. She wasn’t a lady. Just the opposite. Horribly, unbearably, the opposite. And now the secret would be out. She had hoped for time, for a miracle perhaps, time to go away and have the baby in secret somewhere and come back to start over.

  Or even a few days to find connections to have an abortion, however illegal or expensive that might be. But today was the end. The mail had brought the last straw—a letter. The letter! The one she had been waiting for, and praying for for years. Bob—her darling—was coming home safe from Afghanistan.

  But it was too late. She couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—face him. Not now. Not pregnant with someone else’s child. His letters had been so full of love, so full of hate for the war, the agony of being separated, the loneliness for her and his family. How could she admit that she had not even been strong enough to be true to him, to wait for his love?

  The music flowed on, and the noise and intoxication increased in tempo. Her heart grew sicker—just as she knew from past experience her stomach and head would feel in the morning.

  When the couple who lived in the apartment across the hall from her offered her a ride home about two a.m., she accepted gladly.

  Back in her own bedroom, she stared at her mussed hair and messy make-up in the mirror. Despair growled in her stomach, as though it had sharp fingernails to clutch at her innards.

  She took Bob’s letter from her purse and read again the joyful words of his return, his directions to meet his plane, and hope of their life in the future. But she could have no future with him now.

  Suddenly she knew she wasn’t strong enough to face it even to herself.

  She walked to the window and stared down at the freeway. Only a few cars were on it now. But quite a few large trucks used it at night, bringing their wares in and out of the city in the hours of lesser traffic.

  Sandra slipped out of her apartment and down to the highway.

  It was very dark. With a load on, no driver would be able to stop in time. In the morning the newspapers would tell of a tragic accident. There was an all-night drugstore a block away. They would assume she had been going there for an after-the-party remedy. No one would ever guess the truth.

  Bob would mourn her for a while, but at least this way, his memories of her would be good ones.

  She waited for the extra-loud roar of a big motor pulling a very heavy load. Then she counted to time it just right—and ran out onto the highway directly into the truck’s path.

  She heard the screech of his brakes and the desperate blare of his horn. Horrible pain followed, then blessed darkness.

  The End.

  Inseparable Twins

  By Edna Curry

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the minister intoned.

  Dry eyed and numb with pain and shock, I watched the final rites as my former husband and my only son were buried.

  As I turned away, my eyes met the tearful blue eyes of my twin sister, Lila. How dare she grieve for him? Anger curled in my belly and I turned away from her. I’ll have my revenge.

  As identical twins, we'd done everything together, so it was only natural to fall in love with the same man. But I had seen him first.

  Right after college we'd gone on to separate careers and marriages, mine here, hers in Europe. David and I'd had a son, Bobby, and ten happy years together.

  Then Lila divorced, and came back from Europe to visit me. She and David hit it off immediately. A month later, he left for Europe with her, leaving Bobby and me on our own. It was a bad time for us, but Bobby and I had made it together.

  Five years later, after no contact at all, David reappeared, demanding visitation rights to his son. He and Lila were in New York now, so he could fly in to see his son. Bobby desperately missed his father, so I'd agreed. One his last visit David had had a car accident that killed both him and Bobby.

  Bitterness filled my heart, but I fought it down. I must not let Lila know my love for her had turned to hate.

  Because I'd learned the truth. It was no ordinary car accident. David was high on cocaine. My David, who'd never touched the stuff before he met Lila! It was her fault. She and her high-class, partying friends had started him on it. If it wasn't for her, David and Bobby and I would still be a happy family.

  Lila took a step toward me, now. “I'm so sorry, Linda,” she said brokenly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  My resolve almost slipped. She seemed genuinely sorry. Would it be possible to make up? No! All
my life she'd bested me, my husband left me for her, and now she'd caused two deaths. That was too much for any human heart to forgive.

  But now I had to play this game. I said, “We must stick together, Lila. You're my only family, now.”

  “Yes. I know you're hurting. I lost my husband, but you lost both your son and David.”

  “I got over David when he walked out, Lila,” I lied, managing a wry smile.

  “Well, I 'm sorry about that, Linda. It was one of those things that just happen. We didn't mean to hurt you.”

  That was too much to swallow, since she'd always enjoyed her triumphs over me. I pretended to believe her. “I know, Lila. You will come to my apartment for coffee before your plane leaves, won't you?”

  Panic gripped my middle. What if she refused? Would all my plans be for nothing?

  Lila sighed in relief at my offer. “I'm so glad you're being sensible about this Linda.” She smiled as we walked to my waiting taxi.

  “Here we are, this elevator only goes to my penthouse.” I led the way, punching in the special code, and the doors slid open for us. At the top floor, I punched a code to open the elevator doors, then another to unlock my apartment door. Lila didn't notice the number pads instead of key locks.

  She still seemed uneasy with me. I tried to act natural. We'd always almost been able to read each other's minds, so I was worried about pulling this off. But I knew she was curious to see how I was managing since she'd stolen my husband, leaving me penniless.

  “Wow, you really must be doing all right. This is lovely!” she enthused, stepping into my living room.

  “I am,” I said smugly. “I went back to programming computers as a freelancer. I liked being home with Bobby when he was small. And of course, as a teenager, he didn’t need me much anymore. So I accept jobs as I need them. As you see, it pays very well.” I waved my arm around the spacious living room, silently closed the door behind me, and gave a satisfied sigh when I heard it lock with a solid click.

  “Isn't that a fantastic view, Lila?” I said, putting the coffee on. “I can see all of Minneapolis from this window. Through there is my workroom. That large window overlooks the Mississippi. That's the IDS Tower. It's lovelier, lighted at night.”

  “Gorgeous. I'm glad, Linda. Believe me, I've felt guilty having all David's money, when you refused to accept any help, even to support Bobby. David bought me “Lila's Fashions” to fill my time. I've done well, too, in my own way. I've sold original designs to top television stars, and to various other rich women.”

  I smiled, hoping it looked natural. “You always were the brilliant, exciting one of us, weren't you? Even in grade school, I was the dull, studious one, while you were the social butterfly.”

  “Yes, that's why I love New York. It's the most exciting city I've ever lived in. You must come to visit me there.” She sipped her coffee, smiling at me over the rim of the bone china cup.

  I nodded and drank my coffee, letting silence hang between us. “Would you like to see my workroom?”

  “Sure.” She stepped toward a bedroom.

  “No, not that one. That was Bobby's room,” I said in a strangled voice, quickly heading her off and leading the way to the computer lined room.

  “Wow, what a set-up!” Lila exclaimed.

  “Yes, isn't it? With these computers and this phone and modem, I can tap into information all over the world. I even have a scrapbook of society pages in which you and David are mentioned, see?”

  “Really? Linda, that's sick. You said you'd gotten over David.” Lila looked at me nervously.

  “Well, I thought I had. I only put this together in the last couple of months, after David said you couldn't have children and he wanted Bobby. I couldn't let that happen, Lila. I couldn't lose them both.”

  “What does that have to do with our social life?”

  “I suspected David was high several times when he came here. So I tracked all your movements to find out what he was on. I hired a detective to help me. It's all on this disk, Lila, names, dates, cocaine dealer contacts. Even your checking account deposits and withdrawals. The large cash deals were harder to document. But your contacts don't care where their cash comes from, so my detective was able to bribe a couple. I was intending to use it to keep Bobby.” My voice broke, but I struggled on. Lila's face was gray now.

  “Now, it will destroy your friends. I must avenge their deaths, Lila. You do understand that?”

  “Yes, Linda. I understand. But I also foresaw it!” She pulled a small revolver from her purse and aimed it at me. “When you move in my kind of circles, you prepare for anything. I've been dealing with danger for years. I'm sorry you had to be hurt. I'm more sorry to have to kill you. I really did love you, Linda. But I can't let you expose my New York operations. Too many people are involved, people I need, to survive.”

  She raised the gun and fired at me. I managed a smile as pain ripped through my chest. Everything went black.

  ***

  Lila sat down at the computer to retrieve and destroy the file on the disk.

  “Dear Lila,” it read. “I'm sorry that you resorted to murdering me. (You wouldn't be reading this if you hadn't.)

  “I guess we're still very much alike, because after I found out that cocaine was involved in the accident, I also planned your murder. But I wasn't sure you would co-operate enough to come to my apartment, Lila. Obviously you did.

  “Why did I want you here? Because this penthouse apartment is our tomb. Everything in this apartment is run from computer codes, from shopping to the secret number codes instead of key locks on the doors. I designed it myself. I got the idea years ago when a client had me fool-proof his home from the mob.

  “Anyway, no one can even come to this floor without typing a secret number into the elevator, and another to open my door--from the inside or out. I was the only person who knew those codes. There's no way out of here, Lila. This apartment is completely separate from all the others. I even bribed the contractor who remodeled it to ignore the fire-escape rules, because I worked on top-secret computer programs, and I didn't want them stolen while I was out. That was a lucky break, and the reason I thought this plan would work.

  “The coffee we drank was the only food in this apartment. I ordered the utilities turned off tomorrow, and destroyed the phone and modem connections, so you can't call for help.

  “Just in case you botched the job of a clean death for me, and to show you I did love you once, I am providing a quick and merciful end for us both. When you retrieved this file, you gave the computer the command to release a hidden canister of carbon monoxide. Because it's odorless and invisible, you won't have noticed that you've been breathing it while you read this.

  “I've already sent the information about your cocaine dealings to the state Attorney General's office, just in case this didn't work. I couldn't take the chance you'd get off with a light sentence, Lila. Not when David and Bobby had received the death penalty.

  “It should be getting dark about now. So enjoy your last lovely, lonely view of Minneapolis, dear sister, as you wait to join me in death.”

  The End.

  A Business on Main Street Closes

  By Edna Curry

  The ladies gossiped over tea

  “I heard ‘twas sold,” said Auntie Dee.

  “Oh, no, they’ve changed their minds, said Sue.

  “Not ‘til June, the best of source,”

  added May to the discourse.

  Each insisted she knew more.

  But Jane, who owned the deed,

  and washed the floor,

  listened, smiled, and locked the door.

  Dallesview Hotel

  by Edna Curry

  Kerry shrank back against the silk pillowcases. Her thin white face contrasted sharply to her dark chestnut hair, also thinner now due to chemotherapy. Her skin, which had been clear and lovely, now had an almost translucent quality.

  “I feel worse about your plans for my family home t
han from the cancer,” she said. “I’m already trapped here in my room. Why can’t you wait until I’m gone to sell?”

  “There's no reason to wait except for your stubbornness!” Jake grated at her, his mouth twisted in fury.

  She stared at him, deciding to lie, to play for time. “What's the hurry? I love this old house. Grandfather built it and my parents lived here all their lives. Can't you understand? I feel safe here, among all their possessions and my family memories. Especially now, Jake.”

  Why couldn't he understand a dying woman's need for the security of familiar things around her, her need for love? Not that he'd ever given her any. Why had she ever thought he could?

  A muscle on his jaw twitched with anger, making a moving shadow on his handsome face. That handsome face had fooled her into marrying him when she was alone and hurting two years ago. Her daughter's death in a plane crash had come only a year after her first husband, Don, Janie's father, had died. Too much pain, too fast. No wonder she had grasped at his smooth line, his suave love-making.

  She suppressed a shudder at the memory of her foolishness. How quickly after their marriage she had discovered what he was really like.

  “I explained it to you six times already!” Jake snapped. “We need the money to pay your medical bills, and now my car repairs. The developer thinks this is an ideal spot for his hotel, but he's found another one. I'm meeting him now at the club for a golf game. If we don't accept his offer soon, he'll sign with them instead. We'll never have another chance to sell this old barn for such a fantastic price!”

  “I have enough in insurance and stocks to pay my medical bills. And if you weren't such a reckless driver, you wouldn't have wrecked your car. And it's not an old barn!” she defended the huge white frame house. “You had no right to even show it to him!”