by Gracie Guy
Chapter Six
For the second day in a row, Kara awoke mildly disoriented. Why am I alone? Where is Dan? She blinked a few times. Did it all really happen? Her head ached from countless hours of crying. She ran her hand through her unruly auburn hair. Yeah, ’fraid so.
The heavy weight of the dogs trapped her legs within her own blankets. “Hey, fleabags. Get off my legs!” She shouted at the dogs. “Christ, you’re like lardo One and Two.” Both dogs moved quickly, licking either side of her face in greeting.
Stumbling down the hallway toward the kitchen, the dogs’ perceptiveness amazed Kara. Neither one would leave her side. Somehow, they knew things were different.
The house filled with the welcoming smell of coffee while Kara padded aimlessly from counter, to window, to chair. She was adrift. She knew there were countless things she needed to attend to, but didn’t know where to start. In typical farm girl fashion, she felt her first responsibility was to the animals. Danny was dead; the phone calls could wait an hour.
A few minutes later, with the dogs fed, she was dressed and carrying a cup of coffee as the three of them ventured to the barn. The horses nickered as usual. Thank God that hasn’t changed. Both of them bucked happily when released to the paddock. Kara cleaned the stalls and restocked the hay and grain for nighttime.
When she reached the back door, the phone was ringing. Shit. I don’t want to talk to anyone. She let it ring while removing her barn sneakers, hoping whoever it was would leave her alone. After six times the answering machine came on—there was only a dial tone. Good. Leave me alone. But the ringing started again. A sense of unease travelled down her spine. Yesterday when she answered the phone, the world turned upside down.
“Go away!” Kara stomped across the kitchen, intent upon throwing the phone out the front window. “I so freaking don’t want to talk!” Spooked by her shouting, the dogs jumped to their feet, barking, ready to pounce on anyone who walked in.
The phone fell silent for a minute. When the ringing started for a third time, Kara swore internally for keeping such an old phone instead of upgrading to one with caller-id. Eventually, she relented.
“Hull-o.”
“Kara?”
“Yep.”
“Honey, its Mom. You sound funny. Are you okay?”
Kara’s mind spun in circles. What does she have, a sixth sense? Then she remembered what day it was. Her mother called her every Sunday morning when she got home from Mass. Kara frequently felt like it was her mother’s subliminal way of telling Kara she should be in church.
“Honey? Are you there?”
“Um, yeah. Mom.”
“What’s wrong honey? You and Dan have a fight? You sound kinda glum.”
Kara melted onto the stiff pine seat of a kitchen chair. “Mom. Something… Something’s happened.” Her throat tightened with emotion. “Yesterday. Um, sometime yesterday, Dan died.”
Her mother gasped. “Honey, what did you just say?”
But Kara’s head was too full of fresh tears to speak coherently. “I- I don’t know. Mom.” They streamed down her face, soaking her T-shirt, splashing on the ceramic tile when she leaned to pet an anxious dog. The swelling of her throat dropped her voice an octave. “He’s dead, Mom. Danny is gone.”
“Oh my God, honey. I am so sorry.” The sympathy in her mother’s voice only deepened Kara’s anguish. “I’m on my way.”
“Mom. You don’t need to.”
“I do. And I will.” The abruptness of the dial tone surprised Kara. She turned in circles for a moment, trying to decide if she should clean the house before her mother arrived. Fuck it. This one time, she’ll have to get over it. She wrapped herself in a fleece blanket and plopped in the center of the couch for some mind-numbing TV surfing, coffee in her hand, flanked by the dogs.
Around noon, the dogs went into full attack mode when a car pulled up to the house. Kara tossed her covering aside to answer the door. As her mother, Maureen Maloney, stepped across the threshold, Kara’s chest exploded with pain and gratitude. Wrapped in her mother’s protective arms, she couldn’t stop crying.
“Mom.” Her voice was little more than a squeak. “Oh God. Mom. It hurts so much.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Maureen held her daughter, rocking her gently.
“Kara, honey. Let’s make some tea. And you can tell me what happened.”
Several cups later, Kara managed to bring her mother up to speed—her trip to Atlanta, the phone call from the troopers, the grueling round trip to Ticonderoga, intentionally leaving out the details about Dan’s death. Dispirited and bone-weary, Kara struggled to ask for her mother’s help. The physical miles she logistically placed between them had not improved their relationship. And now, because she was clueless about funerals, Kara would have to cross the divide. She peered over her cup, admiring her mother’s alabaster skin and hazel eyes. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgotten what a beautiful red head her mother was.
“Mom? What do I do now?”
Maureen rose; placing her hands around her daughter’s shoulders, she guided Kara out of her chair. “Right now you take a hot shower and a nap.”
“But, I…” Kara’s protest stood little chance.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Her mother turned her to face the hall to the master suite. “Do as I say and I’ll start making arrangements.” Kara didn’t know what her mother’s plan was, nor did she care. For the first time in days, she felt safe, protected, and loved.
Chapter Seven
Kara rinsed her face with cool water. She heard the phone ring, but knew her mother would get it. Moments later there was a light tap on the door of the master bath.
“Kara, honey. Phone’s for you. Should I ask them to call back?” Her mother’s voice was barely audible through the solid cherry.
“Be right out, Mom.” She looked at herself again, then dropped her own voice to a whisper. “You’ll be okay, chickie. You’re tough. You can do this.” She ended her pep talk with a wink and turned to open the door.
She found her mother standing in the hallway, the portable phone in her left hand, her right cupping the mouthpiece. “It’s Dan’s mother,” she whispered as she handed the phone to her daughter.
Nodding appreciation, Kara felt a psychological punch to her gut as she accepted the phone. She knew this call was in response to the message she left earlier in the day asking Mrs. Elliott to call her, please. Despite the years that Dan and Kara had been together, her mother-in-law had never given her permission to use her first name, Helen. Instead, their relationship had always been at arm’s length.
“Hello Mrs. Elliott. Thank you for returning my call.” Kara walked toward the kitchen.
“You said it was important. How’s Dan. Is he there with you?”
Noting in her head that her mother-in-law had not responded to her greeting, she drew in a heavy breath as she sat at the table. “Um, no. He’s not.” Closing her eyes, Kara paused a moment before delivering the news no parent ever wants to hear. “I’m sorry to tell you this Mrs. Elliott, but there was an accident.”
Kara heard the older woman gasp.
“Dan passed away.” She heard a noise in the background. Maybe a chair moving, she couldn’t be sure.
“What type of accident?”
Kara knew she could not tell this woman the truth. “Quad. He was riding his four-wheeler up on the state land by himself. He flipped it and he was pinned underneath.”
“Why weren’t you there with him? To help him?” Helen Elliott’s voice spiked with accusation.
“I was in Atlanta on a business trip.”
“You always had to do that, Kara, didn’t you. So high and mighty with your Saratoga background and your horses. Jet setting around on business when you should have been home taking care of my son.”
Appalled by the attack, Kara struggled not to screech into the phone. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but that’s not the truth of it. I loved Dan and did take good care o
f him. I can’t help that he made a mistake both you and I have to live with.” Part of her wished she had simply told the old woman the truth about her darling son.
But she hadn’t done that and now the silence was deafening as Dan’s mother absorbed her fabrication. “Mrs. Elliott?” Fifteen or twenty seconds passed before she got a response.
“Yes, Kara.” Her mother-in-law’s response was clipped. “Do you have more to say to me?”
“Um, I…I. No. Not really.” Kara hated that this woman could make her stutter in fear. She babbled quickly before her courage ran out. “I’m making funeral arrangements now. But just so you know, there will only be a closed casket viewing, no service. Dan will be cremated. You may have a portion of his ashes before the rest are spread over the High Peaks.”
“Thank you.” Helen Elliott’s voice had no luster to it. “I won’t be there. Please have my son’s ashes shipped to me.” Kara listened to her shallow breathing through the phone. “Dan had a few pieces of his father’s jewelry. I’d like those sent to me also.”
“Okay.” Kara felt her mind searching for something to say, some small measure of comfort. “I’m sorry.”
“Good bye, Kara.” Abruptly her mother-in-law severed the conversation.
With the disconnected phone resting in her hands, Kara turned to her own mother, shaking her head in disbelief. “She didn’t say she was sorry. She made no attempt to console me.”
Her mother took the phone from her hands and placed it in the cradle. Then Kara felt her mother’s arms draw her into a hug. “I’m sorry honey. She must be in shock.”
But Kara knew the truth. The woman had never had much of a relationship with her son. And now that he was gone, Helen Elliott no longer needed to pretend to like Kara. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual.
#####
Due to the sketchy circumstances surrounding Dan’s death, an autopsy was performed. As she had requested, the results were mailed to her rather than delivered by phone via John Harley. By Friday, Kara knew the truth: no drugs, scant traces of alcohol, death by asphyxiation. Standing in the privacy of her bedroom, she re-read it three times.
As Kara looked at her ragged countenance in the mirror, searching for remnants of the spectacular summer tan she’d earned in her gardens, her face reddened with blossoming rage. Her eyes were mere slits, her lips pursed as she stared at herself.
“Really Dan? You choked yourself to death trying to get your rocks off?” She’d spent so much time crying and barely able to get out of bed that it felt good to be angry. “How dare you?” Her shouting echoed off the ceramic tile in the enclosed space as she slapped herself in the mirror. “You friggin’ selfish S.O.B.” The dogs, never far from her, whined outside the door.
“I would slap the snot out of you right now,” she drew in a deep, ragged breath, “if you weren’t already dead.” Grasping the edge of the vanity, she steadied herself as silent sobs wracked her body. “Dead.” She stared at the broken woman in the mirror. “Dead. You’re gone.” One hand reached up to stroke her reflection. “But…I’m not. And now, I have to move on.”
#####
A funeral is not the type of get-together any wife wants to plan. Let alone a wife who was only thirty-two years old and thought she had forty or fifty more years to spend with her beloved husband. But, with the help of her mother and Robin, Kara managed it. And, survived it.
Once she’d concocted the story about the quad accident, she decided to use an amended version for his obituary. Who is going to question me? The only people who knew the truth were her best friend and the State Troopers. Surely most of them weren’t perusing the newspapers looking for the death notice of a twisted pervert. And Robin would never betray her.
The viewing was three painfully long hours of people paying their respects. Her mother and Robin took turns standing next to Kara, holding her hand or slipping an arm around her waist for moral support.
The local people wore denim and plaid flannels, a few still carrying the light scent of hours spent in the woods—a combination of pine and chainsaw fumes. Her co-workers had formed a car pool caravan from Albany, effectively closing down Avion Technology for the day. And her mother’s friends from Saratoga, appropriately dressed in subtle tones of navy, gray and black, quietly gave both of them their condolences.
Through it all, Kara caught snippets of conversation from the people standing in clusters of two and three. “Such a shame.” “He was so handsome.” “What do you s’pose she’ll do now?” Several times she considered shouting out: “Yo, I’m standing right here ya know! I can hear you!” Instead, she wore her widow’s mask, dabbed at the continuous tears, and let the gossipers cluck. After all, it’s what people do at a funeral.
Chapter Eight
“Thank you.” It was all she could say to her mother after six days of constant support.
“Chicken,” Kara smiled at her mother’s pet name for her. “Please consider selling this place and moving closer to home.”
“I will, Mom.” There was no point in arguing with her. “Have a safe drive.”
Countless vehicles were in and out of her gravel drive in the past week—friends, relatives, co-workers, flower deliveries, and neighbors with food. Now, as her mother’s car slowly wound out of sight, Kara was struck by the near silence in her yard. Casting her gaze to the barn, she decided a long horseback ride in the woods was in order for her and the dogs.
Hours later, with the sky over Mount Van Hoevenburg turning crimson from the setting sun, Kara finally felt peaceful. Covered in horse hair and her own dry sweat from an afternoon spent with her favorite companions, she left the barn to the soothing sound of them eating, along with the occasional bump of a grain tub or slurp of water. She knew her life had to return to some form of normalcy, and today’s ride was a great place to start.
“Are you ready for this?” The dogs tipped their heads quizzically. “Not you guys. Me.” She left her boots and soft leather riding gloves at the back door on the way to take a shower.
Once clean, she returned to the kitchen and stood at the refrigerator, perusing the stock of leftovers. “Oh, look at all of this.” She grabbed a plastic container of donated food. “Maybe I can take it to work and share with the office.”
In the turbulent week since she’d gotten home from Atlanta, she gave no thought to work. However, until she made some hard decisions about the property, she had to keep her bosses happy and her comfortable salary coming in. So, she set up a makeshift office, with her laptop and printer, on the dining room table. Upending the contents of her briefcase, she shuffled through the business cards until she found it. She ran her fingers over the raised bold letters in navy blue. Mark Shelton. He was one of the few male industry insiders at the conference who showed respect for her wedding ring. When Kara inquired about his own marital status, the answer was no. Though he did say he had a pair of rambunctious kids at home. Kara was shocked by the relief she’d felt when he told her about his Labradors. Hhhmmm…good looking and a dog man!
His business card confirmed their conversations—he worked in Kansas City. Home of jazz, Hallmark Cards and great steaks. His employer, Twin Cities Development, was a relatively new venture owned by two men local to Kansas City. One grew up in Kansas City, Missouri and the other in Kansas City, Kansas—the only metropolitan area in the country that crossed state lines. Mark, a native of Oklahoma, went to college with the owner from Kansas. When his old roommate called to offer him a job, the timing was perfect. Fresh from a bad breakup with a woman he wanted to marry, moving north two years ago helped him to gain some perspective. Other than shoptalk, the only other personal information he’d shared with Kara was stories about the dogs.
“So, I’ll call him tomorrow.”
She dreaded going to work. Even though her boss and most of the associates came to Lake Placid for Dan’s services, she knew they had questions about the nature of Dan’s death. As urban dwellers, most of them looked askance at the quad story. Hopeful
ly no rumors would be circulating. Or worse, someone had found out the truth.
In the days since Sergeant Harley had given her the details about Dan’s death, Kara spent hours assessing her marriage. Early in their relationship, Dan cajoled her into having sex in a variety of positions. At first, she mutely participated, even though her Catholic guilt had one hell of a play date with her. As time passed, she became less resistant in pushing Danny’s ideas aside. In truth, each position brought great satisfaction. She never knew making love could be so experimental. The intensity of her orgasms often shocked her.
About a year ago, things started taking on a different tone when her husband began bringing home new toys. Nothing tame like hand cuffs, vibrators, cock rings, or ben-wa balls. This new game involved pain. Pain to her nipples, the skin on her ass, and even to the most private of parts—her rectum. After one experience, Kara refused to play. The change in Dan’s desires lead to many fights, most of which ended with him stalking out of their bedroom and pleasuring himself out of her sight.
“So admit it. You’re really not surprised by this. Are you?” The dogs crossed the living room to see who she was talking to. Scratching both heads, she reassured them. “Mom’s okay guys.” Kara stuffed everything back into the briefcase, deciding to sort it out at the office. Once she made it through the stares and whispers she expected to encounter the next day, she knew she would appreciate the distraction.
Chapter Nine