On the Edge of Dangerous Things (Dangerous Things Trilogy Book 1)

by snyder-carroll s.

  Hester really liked one particular residence. The facade was Tuscan Revival, and the color of the stone made her think of mango honey. Through the black wrought-iron gate, she could see a giant bronze sculpture of a woman in a toga wearing sandals and holding a sword. One of her breasts was exposed, and the broken shaft of a javelin stuck out of it. The position of her body and the way the long braid of her hair flowed out behind her made her appear to be running. Hester knew she was a goddess and at first thought it was Diana, but after she wracked her brain, she remembered. Because of the wounded breast, it had to be Camilla from the Aeneid.

  As Hester passed by the replica of the fleet-footed Amazon, she wished she lived in the giant house behind it. She thought if she could just push a button and open the gate and walk past Camilla into the cool glass foyer and stand beneath the glinting crystal of the chandelier (the size of a shed), she just might be able to forget burying Nina’s body by moonlight, scrubbing every inch of the trailer in the dark, hiding Nina’s belongings in her cheap suitcase, and shoving it under the bed.

  When Hester got back to their trailer, she found two messages from the hospital on her cell phone. Her husband was asking to see her and could she come as soon as possible. No, she couldn’t. She didn’t call back.

  Hester made herself a Captain Morgan and Coke—heavy on the rum, light on the Coke. She drank it down quickly, then switched to wine. She lit one of the candles that were still on the coffee table, and stared at it. She polished off half a bottle of Bogle Pinot Noir before she began to feel dizzy.

  She stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. She knew she drank too much, knew it would sit in her stomach and make her queasy, and give her one hell of a hangover tomorrow. She got up from the couch, went into the bathroom, and stuck her fingers down her throat.

  Her vomit reeked. Undigested Coke and red wine splattered the sides of the toilet bowl. It wouldn’t easily flush, so she pushed the handle down several times in rapid succession until toilet water spilled over the top. It was a mess, and it stunk. It wasn’t that she was too drunk to clean it up. She wasn’t now. In fact she felt better, sleepy, even a little peaceful inside. She didn’t give a damn about the mess.

  She went back to the couch and curled up on her side. Before she drifted off to sleep, she realized that for tonight, anyway, she didn’t miss Al at all.

  Nine

  The minute Hester left Al in the Phys Ed office, she began thinking two things. One, she could really love Alexander Bruno Murphy for the rest of her life; and two, she shouldn’t have done what she did. Not since Arthur Kendall and her freshman year in college, had she been at once so afraid, and so alive. It was like leaping off a cliff and thankfully discovering she could still fly.

  Al didn’t call her that evening as she’d hoped, but he did come by her classroom at the end of the next day to ask her out.

  Friday night the temperature dropped into the twenties. With the wind chill it felt like the teens. Al picked Hester up at her apartment in Trenton, and they drove north on River Road along the Delaware River to Lambertville. He was taking her to a place he claimed had the best food in town, Bell’s on Union Street. Al parked in the empty lot of Niece’s Lumber. When they got out of the car, the cold made Hester gasp.

  “It’s freezing,” Hester shouted.

  “It’s not that bad.” Al hunched his shoulders and started walking toward the restaurant.

  “Yes, it is,” Hester insisted. She was a few steps behind him.

  “Don’t be such a baby, Miss Randal.”

  “I’m not, I’m just really freezing, Al.”

  Al stopped and turned to look at Hester, who was wiping her dripping nose on the back of her gloved hand.

  “Alright, get in the car. I’ll see if I can park closer.” He didn’t sound happy. He sounded like getting in the car and finding somewhere else to park might be a problem, but he hurried back and held the door open for Hester. He got in the other side and started the car. Before he put it into gear, he looked at Hester hesitantly.

  “Thanks.” She ventured a quick glance.

  Al turned the heat up full blast. “Hot enough yet?”

  “Yes, it’s perfect now.” Hester wanted to start a conversation, but she could think of nothing clever to say.

  “Here, move closer to me if you’re still cold.” His voice was softer. She slid over. He put his arm around her. She put her head against his shoulder and watched the lights on the dashboard. Their breathing condensed and steamed up the inside of the windshield. It was like they were inside a silk cocoon. Hester sat there silently berating herself for not knowing what subject might interest Al, so they sat in silence until he kissed her. She kissed him back.

  Too fast, she told herself. She swore she was going to slow things down, hold back, make him wonder whether she wanted to do anything with him at all, despite how far she’d gone the other day, and in school at that. Temporary insanity.

  But his lips were on hers again. His warm, demanding tongue in her mouth.

  It was over before Hester could resist.

  She pulled her panty hose up from around her one ankle, hooked her bra, and buttoned up the top of her shirtwaist dress. She was breathless, and fretful. What in the hell had she done! Al, though quick, had excited her intensely, touching, messaging, sucking her body to its breaking point. All thought ceased, all common sense went out the window. He knew what to do to her and did it passionately. As if he’d known her body for a long time, how it worked, what it wanted. As if he’d been down this road before and knew all the bumps and curves. How easily he’d driven her mad with desire.

  Al zipped his pants up, put the car in drive, and rode around the small town looking for a parking space. He put the radio on. Wolfman Jack was reviewing the top twenty hits. Al turned the volume up. He couldn’t find anywhere to park. After circling the block two times and over Cher belting out “Dark Lady,” he said loudly, “Guess we’ll have to call it a night.”

  They drove back to Trenton listening to the Wolfman and not talking, except for Al lowering the volume on the radio once and saying, “You are on birth control, aren’t you?”

  Hester’s first impulse was to lie. Al would think she was an idiot to have sex with him and not be on the pill. But she wasn’t about to go to a gynecologist to get a prescription. She had her reasons.

  “No,” she admitted with some trepidation. She knew what it felt like to be lied to, and she didn’t want to start out lying to Al.

  “Well, maybe you should get some,” he replied flatly.

  “Okay, I will.” Hester was relieved. Al was planning on seeing her again. Maybe she could figure out a way to get something on the black market, not that she knew anything about that sort of commerce, but she’d sure as hell try.

  Despite the even colder temperature now that it was later, Al walked Hester to the door of her apartment.

  “Why don’t you come in? We could talk.” The night had gone by, and she didn’t know one new thing about this man she’d just had torrid front-seat sex with.

  “I’m beat. Maybe some other time.” And he turned and left.

  Later, starving hungry and rummaging through the refrigerator, disappointment descended on Hester. Not even a goodnight kiss. She’d wanted to impress Al, to dazzle him with her wit and vivaciousness, but she’d failed miserably.

  Well, not at everything. So they hadn’t talked much. So what? They hadn’t needed to.

  When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the sound of his voice saying her name, “Hester, Hester.” She was on top of him. He was squeezing her breasts. She put all her weight into each thrust.

  Ten

  The kitchen light shone into the living room, startling Hester, who had finally fallen asleep. She checked her cell phone. 3:12 a.m. The power was back. She found the remote and clicked on the television. The ShamWow infomercial guy was fast-talking about their super-absorbency. Hester clicked it off. Her head buzzed. She stood up slowly and went in
to the bathroom. When she flipped the switch, she was stunned. She’d forgotten about throwing up, clogging the toilet, and it spilling all over the place. The rug was soaked, the linoleum slimy. She gagged on the foul odor. Jesus, the thought of cleaning it up made her sick.

  “Mrs. Murphy, you in there?”

  Hester recognized Chet Blount’s nasally voice. She wished her nosey neighbor would go away. She didn’t answer.

  “Just want to know if you’re alright. Got in from Ohio around midnight and couldn’t unpack without electricity, so I sat in my lounger till the lights came on. Saw yours were on, too. Figured I better check on you.” He was hollering through the kitchen window. “Maybe I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Hester said nothing and held her breath until she heard the sound of his footsteps scraping through the gravel as he shuffled back to his trailer. Hester thought Chet asked too many questions, but Al said she shouldn’t let that bother her. Still, she didn’t like the way his beady eyes darted around when he was talking to her, and he was always talking. If she tried to get a word in edgewise, he stared at her blankly which gave her the impression he was skeptical of the veracity of what she was saying. He reminded her of her father who used to look at her the same way after she came home from a date. He’d ask her where she’d gone and what she’d done, then wait to catch her in a lie. Hester could barely remember what her father looked like, it had been that long since she’d seen him. He could be dead, for all she knew.

  The next morning before Hester had a chance to figure out what she was going to do about the damaged roof and ruined bedroom and stinky bathroom, she saw old Chet coming around the side of his trailer, holding his mug of coffee in one hand and scratching his scruffy beard with the other. She hurried out of the sliding door and met him on the patio before he could get any closer, or God forbid, inside her trailer. It’d be impossible to get rid of him then.

  That’s how lots of people at Pleasant Palms were, and it was one of the few drawbacks—she was discovering—the place had. Most residents were retired with nothing to do, so they spent eons of time talking, mostly about themselves; and when that topic was exhausted, they seemed to be on a pointless, yet thorough, fact-finding mission.

  “Well, Mrs. Murphy, aren’t I glad I didn’t come down any earlier. My niece-in-law insisted I stay and have Thanksgiving with them. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you, Uncle Chet,’ she said. So, you know, how could I refuse? My nephew would have been stuck with all those women from Beverly Ann’s side, that’s my niece-in-law’s name, Beverly Ann. Her mother, her three sisters—they’re all single—and her girlfriend Nancy Lynne all pile in on poor Matthew. He’s really always so out…”

  Hester’s head was spinning. I’ve got to get rid of him, was all she could think.

  “And he doesn’t enjoy his football game if I’m not sitting right there next to him.”

  Hester shifted her weight, ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed audibly.

  “Not quite awake, are you, Mrs. Murphy?” He took a sip of his coffee, and Hester thought, thank you, God, he’s going to stop, but he quickly continued, “I’m so glad you and Mr. Murphy will finally get a chance to spend the whole winter down here. It’s just a shame that storm hit. Who would’ve thought we’d get something like that so late in the season? The weather people had it passing south of Key West. It was just a freak of nature. Wasn’t it now? And where is Mr. Murphy anyway?”

  Chet looked over Hester’s head at the sliding door. “Thought I’d like to say a welcome to him, too. See if he needs any help with fixing that mess you’ve got in the back there.”

  Now what am I going to say, thought Hester. She didn’t want to have to explain things. She appreciated his offer, but as she looked at how his eighty-five-year-old head hung down like a turtle’s and how the mug in his hand jiggled so much that coffee splashed out of it when he tried to drink from it, she knew he had no intention of making good on it.

  Hester crossed her arms in front of her chest and sighed again. “Al was injured when the roof collapsed. It was minor, but they admitted him to the hospital anyway, just to be sure.”

  “Oh my, well, that is a shame. When will he be home?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, if it isn’t serious, then it should be soon. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s already been almost forty-eight hours since the storm hit, so did the folks at the hospital say if it would be today or not? If it’s not serious, as you say, then he should be home today.”

  Who cares when they send the bastard home! Hester wanted to yell at the old man. Instead, she heard herself saying in a pathetically small voice, “I hope you’re right. It’s so lonely here without him.”

  “I’m right next door, Mrs. Murphy. You don’t have to worry about being lonely. Why don’t I come over tonight? We’ll play some Yahtzee. I could bring some cheese and crackers. I love Yahtzee. Counting up all those black dots on the die has a way of taking your mind off your troubles. Games are good for you, Mrs. Murphy.”

  “Oh, thanks, Mr. Blount, but I don’t feel up to playing.”

  “Please, call me Chet, and we don’t have to play anything. Talking is just fine with me.”

  “After I get back from the hospital…,” Hester lied—she had no intention of going anywhere near the hospital, “…I’ll most likely be exhausted, so maybe some other time, Chet.”

  Hester thought that would settle it.

  “Well, when I see you’re back, I’ll just come over to make sure you’re alright.”

  “Please, I don’t want to bother you.”

  “No bother, it’s the Pleasant Palms way. You’ll see. We are like one big family here. We look out for one another.”

  Great, thought Hester, that’s just great. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other again to buy some time to concoct another excuse while the old man wiped some coffee from his chin and said, “Oh, I almost forgot, where’s your young friend?”

  Hester drew in her breath and held it.

  “I spoke on the phone with Marvin Bridgeford, his wife is Eve—nice-looking woman with short auburn hair.”

  “Yes, I’ve met Eve.”

  “Well, the night before the storm, I talked to him, and he said you had a young visitor staying with you, a former student. Let’s see, her name was…” He held onto his chin as he tilted his head. “Now don’t tell me. I like to try to remember things on my own.”

  Hester’s mind raced.

  “Nina!” he shouted with delight. “Yes, Marvin said she was a nice-looking girl. So how could you be lonely with such a young treasure around?”

  Hester wanted to rip the mug out of his feeble grip and dump the rest of the coffee over his head. She hated being cornered like this, and it felt like the old hoot was drilling her on purpose, almost taking delight in making her scramble for answers she hadn’t yet concocted.

  “The hurricane scared poor Nina near to death. As soon as it was over, she made me take her to the station and put her on the next train back to New Jersey. I’ll miss her, I mean, we’ll miss her, but the good part is, she decided to give the community college up north another try.” Hester was satisfied with her spur-of-the-moment fabrication.

  “Why didn’t she fly home?”

  That was it. What difference did it make to this old guy if Nina took a plane or a train or a hot air balloon? He didn’t even know her.

  “She had, I mean, has…” Hester caught herself, “…a tremendous fear of flying. Well, nice chatting with you, but I have a million things to do. Thanks for offering to help, Mr. Blount, I mean, Chet.”

  Before he could say another word, Hester pulled open the slider, stepped inside, and dropped the shade. She peeked through a gap and saw he was still standing there like a pale specter from the underworld. Hester felt bad. In truth, Chet Blount seemed to be a perfectly good-hearted man, a congenial, kind man; but Hester’s nerves were so frayed she wasn’t seeing thi
ngs clearly, and she knew it. At the moment she didn’t have the luxury of getting too friendly with someone who lived only ten feet away and, obviously, watched her like a hawk. Besides he seemed to be a bit of a gossip, who wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone he met everything he knew, or thought he knew, about her. She had to set boundaries. She had no choice.

  “Okay, Mrs. Murphy,” he shouted through the door, through the shade. “See you tonight.”

  Hester couldn’t believe it. She heard the satisfaction in his voice, triumph even. He’d paid not one bit of attention to what she’d said, to what she’d wanted. Instead, he sounded like he was coming over for a goddamn date whether she liked it or not. It made Hester go cold inside to have her wishes so blatantly disregarded.

  Okay, so maybe he’s not all that kind, maybe he’s stubborn and narcissistic, concluded Hester. That the man is ancient doesn’t make the fact that he’s getting his way come hell or high water any easier for me to take.

  She went into the kitchen and once again got out the bucket and some clean rags. Boundaries? Maybe it was already too late.

  Eleven

  In March, not quite three months after her first date with Al, Hester was driving home from work when she saw a robin by the side of the road trying to yank an earthworm out of the dirt. Ordinarily, such a harbinger of spring would’ve put a smile on her face. But today, she didn’t give a shit about spring. She gripped the wheel and prayed, Please, God, help me, help me, help me.

  If she didn’t get her period tonight, then she had to be pregnant, and it would’ve happened that night in Lambertville in the parking lot of Niece’s Lumber because Hester had not done “it” with Al since then. They’d dated and done other things, but since she couldn’t figure out how to get the pill without going to a doctor, she’d been firm with him about not going all the way. And now she’d held him off for nothing. Who said lightning didn’t strike twice?