by Jojo Brown
“Oh no, what could he possibly want?” I breathed, as I watched him step gingerly across the slippery driveway, towards me.
“What do you want, Dad?” I stepped forward to meet him halfway.
“I know what you’re about, girl. I couldn’t let you just go off like this.”
Looking at him now, I could tell that he had not slept last night. He appeared to have been up all night crying. His watery eyes were red-rimmed and puffy; his skin was even paler than it had been when he stormed out the front door of the farmhouse.
“Why did you never tell me, Dad? She tried to kill me and I never knew!” I felt like a petulant toddler, stomping her foot in a tantrum, but I just couldn’t help it.
“How do you tell a lass that her own mother wanted her dead? I never knew when would be the right time. We had already told you that she was dead; we made Adam promise not to say anything about that night, or the time before that. We were only trying to protect you, Ella.
“I am not a smart man, Ella. I always thought that you would just start remembering something on your own and come to me.” Tears were slowly falling from his watery old eyes, turning to ice upon his cheeks.
“I tried my best to protect you, Ella. From everything, all these years.”
“How could I have come to you, Dad? I have always been too afraid of you. I know now, you have always done what you thought was best for me, you did the best you could, but now you have to let go.
“You kept me like a prisoner out on that farm… my whole life. You never let me go to dances or parties. You never gave me the opportunity to make lasting friendships; I always had to take care of the farm… of you… of Nanny.
“Now, it turns out that everything I thought I knew was a lie.” Reaching out, I placed my hand on his trembling shoulder, feeling the thinness of it through his heavy coat. “I have so many questions, Dad. I need to go and find the answers.”
“The answers are out there, Ella. Just be aware, you may not like what you learn.” Pulling an envelope from his pocket, the shell of the man that I had feared for so long, looked intently into my eyes, “Take this to her, for me. Please! I know that I have no right to ask you to do anything for me, as far as you are concerned. But please, just take care of this one last thing for me.”
I took the crumpled envelope from his shaking fingers and he turned away. As he was getting back into his rusty old pickup truck, he looked at me again and then at Chris. “Thank you, Doc. You’re a lot better man than me.”
With that, he got in and pulled out of the driveway.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” I asked as Chris and I once again started getting into his truck.
“Guilty conscience, maybe.” He settled himself behind the steering wheel. “How about we make a point of spending some time with him, when we get back? It seemed to me, like he needs to know some of the answers too.”
* * * *
The temperature had risen a bit through the night and it had been snowing all morning. It had been an unusually, cold winter that held all of us in its icy grip longer than normal.
Life in the far-reaching shadows of the Canadian Rockies had always been something of a challenge but the winter of 2010 was the worst in a very long time.
The SUV’s four-wheel drive made an easy task out of passing along the snow-covered roads. The plows were busy, clearing the highways, but it would be a while before they got to any of the smaller towns and lesser-used roads.
Old Harold Parker usually kept our roads cleared, but his truck was nearly falling apart. It was pulled off the road by the ministry in the fall. Since then, it was up to the big plows from the county to get to us, when they had a chance.
Racing towards the Rockies, slush caused by the salt and sand mixture that they covered the highway with, coated the sides of the truck. It was great for keeping the roads clear of ice, but it was terribly corrosive. Most of the vehicles in our area had to have bodywork done every spring, or simply continue to rot away.
I had no idea where the Mountain View Institute was located, other than it was somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. Chris had the directions that he got on the phone, written on a piece of paper, tucked into the visor. In addition, we had a map in the glove compartment.
We felt confident that we would be able to find the place.
When we left the main highway, we were both very glad that we were traveling in a vehicle with four-wheel drive. Even though the plows and sanders had made a pass down the road, it was still a challenge.
Snowdrifts camouflaged the road. Chris had to judge where we should be driving by the hydro poles and signposts on either side. Occasionally sliding slightly, we plowed ahead. Some of the drifts that we went through were nearly as high as the truck and I feared that the snow would choke the engine.
Winter driving in the prairies that skirt the mountains was not like driving anywhere else in the world. The land is so flat on one side that there is nothing to stop the wind until it hits the mountains. It blows the snow, causing drifts and whiteouts, without a moment’s notice. Pulling into a town, any town, is a great relief
Ten
The sun was setting as we pulled into the town we had been looking for. It was the last one marked on the map, before our turnoff into the foothills. That was where we intended to spend the night.
We rented a room at the only motel in town—we were the only guests.
Hoping that the snow would let up over night, we planned to head into the hills and find the institute in the morning. We were not exactly sure just how long it would take us to get there, so we wanted to leave ourselves plenty of time.
After grabbing a bite to eat at a local restaurant, we settled down in the nice warm room with our coffee from a nearby coffee shop. Chris went through my mother’s files again. He said that he was trying to find some answers, hidden amongst all the medical jargon. He seemed almost desperate to me. I needed to find a way to ease his mind, somehow.
“Chris, could you please just put those away for a while? I really need you to just hold me right now.”
Turning in his chair to look at me, where I was lounging in the middle of the big bed, he smiled.
“Why is it, that my t-shirt looks so much better the way you fill it out?” he asked, with a sly grin.
“Because, silly, if it looked the same on me as it did on you, then I wouldn’t be able to entice you to come over here and hold me.”
Stripping off his clothes, Chris joined me on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.
“I am so glad that you are here with me. I don’t think I could do this without your support.”
Pushing the t-shirt up, he looked into my eyes, with a mischievous glint in his own. “I am actually enjoying all this.”
“You are?”
“Sure,” he smiled, pulling the shirt over my head, “All this mystery and intrigue… plus, the most beautiful woman I have ever known, welcoming me into her bed. What more could a man ask for?”
“Oh I don’t know, how about a woman who doesn’t dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat?”
“Sweetheart, that just works to make you the ‘damsel-in-distress’ even more.”
“So, I guess that makes you my knight-in-shining-armor. Is that what you are trying to tell me?”
“Well, the only armor I have is my love for you. And, I have never slain a dragon before, but I am willing to take this monster on for you.”
“I know, and I love you for that… more than words can ever express.”
Tracing my fingernails down his chest as he straddled my hips, I watched as goose bumps rose in their wake. My stomach flipped as I lowered my fingers to his obvious hardness. All I could concentrate on was how much I loved him and how badly I wanted to feel him deep inside of me. No foreplay needed or wanted, this time.
“Make love to me, Chris.” I purred, as he lowered his lips to my excruciatingly erect nipple. “No, strike that – fuck me, Chris. Take me with a wild abandon. B
ury yourself deep inside me, where only you can reach. Make me yours.”
His answer came in way of his stripped boxers being flung to the floor as he lay back and pulled me over on top of him.
His full, rigid cock slid easily, into my hot, waiting pussy. As soon as my muscles felt the pressure of him, they began their undulating race to orgasm. It was exactly what I wanted and needed right then. A good hard fuck, with none of the regular sweet pillow talk. I pressed my palms onto his chest to balance myself as I slid up and down his cock. My mind was so fixed on an absolute need for release that I didn’t really care at that moment, if he was enjoying the ride or not—he was an instrument for me to use to achieve my goal.
I rode him as I’d only done a few times in the past, with a purely selfish need that screamed out to be fulfilled. Bouncing on his shaft, my pussy clenched and vibrated along his length, dragging him with me to the place we both dearly wanted to be.
Chris’s fingers dug in to the soft flesh of my sides, forcing me down, holding me there with his cock fully embedded in me as a deep rolling shudder ran through him. With him swelling and pressing against my cervix with the explosions, my own body released its grip on reality. Wave after wave of climactic spasm shook my spine.
Collapsing onto his chest, I slowly raised my hips and allowed his cock to fall from the tight, confining clasp of my pussy.
“Where the hell did that come from?” His murmured question sent a fleeting stab of fear through me.
Slipping off to lay beside him, I traced circles around his chest and stomach. “Sorry Chris, that was rather selfish of me. I really don’t know where it came from.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for something like that. Just know, that if you can be selfish—so can I.”
In a movement quicker than I would have thought him capable, he was kneeling between my knees. “I hope you are ready to fly among the stars again.”
Before I had a chance to even think of an answer, he drove his tongue deep into my wet pussy. I knew he was tasting the mixture of our orgasms and from the deep throaty moans, he was clearly enjoying the nectar.
For the next couple of hours, my mind raced along on waves of pure physical bliss. I met his deep thrusting with my own. I dug my nails into the headboard as his tongue took the nerve-endings bundled in my throbbing clitoris to amazing new heights. I screamed into the muffling thickness of the pillow, as his length drove deeply into me, yet again.
Reality was left behind, in the mist of the unseen and un-cared for. I knew only the fireworks of absolute joy. I knew the feel, taste and smell of Chris. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.
I slept that night, better than I ever remember sleeping in my life. The safety of our love cocooned me. No matter what happened from that point on, I knew that I was safe.
Chris had assured me of that.
Moreover—I believed him—with every ounce of my being.
Eleven
Dressed in my formfitting jeans and cream-colored Aaron-knit sweater, I thought I was ready for whatever the mountains held. No matter how shocking or painful those secrets may be.
With one look, it was clear that I was wrong!
There it stood. Looming ahead of us, nestled in a valley between two of the higher foothills that lead into the actual mountains.
Mortar and stone… surrounded with pines and peaks. It had towers and turrets at each of the corners. There looked to be a ‘widow’s walk’ along the length of the roof. The sheer mass of the structure was phenomenal and imposing.
As I stepped from the truck, I felt as though the building itself was bearing down on me. My legs turned to jelly, my stomach clenched, I could feel my bowels liquefying. I could not get enough air into my lungs to keep my head from spinning.
“Well…” I stammered, “If I wasn’t terrified before, I would be now, anyway. This place looks more like a medieval castle, than a place of healing. Do you suppose there is a torture chamber lurking somewhere in the bowels of this monstrosity?”
Chris chuckled quietly as he came around the front of the truck to take my mittened hand in his own. “It is rather imposing, isn’t it? I nearly expect a volley of fiery arrows to come pelting down on us at any moment.”
He started to move towards the huge, ornately carved doors sheltered beneath the columned, stone archway. He stopped so abruptly when he realized that I had not moved, he actually slid on the wet snow.
“Hey babe. You okay?”
With tears, yet again, filling my eyes, blurring my vision, I stared at the four rows of huge, barred windows that lined the façade.
“Thirty years, Chris. Three decades of lies and deceit have been hidden behind those bricks.”
Lowering my gaze to his, the tears spilled from my eyes. “Why, Chris? Why?”
“I don’t know why, babe. But, maybe we can find some answers, on the other side of those bricks. Come on, let’s go find out.”
“I can’t make my feet move,” I whispered. “It’s like the ice and snow have crept up to my ankles and I’m frozen to this spot.”
Wrapping his arm around me, Chris gently guided me across the snow-packed drive. “”Come on, I’ll be at your side the whole time. Remember, just put one foot in front of the other.”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move.
* * * *
The huge, heavy oak doors swung open much easier than either of us had expected.
“They must be counter-levered or something,” Chris stated simply, as we crossed the foyer together. His analytical mind amazed me at times.
The receptionist was seated behind a massive desk that seemed to be a part of the building. It was grey, as were the walls, ceiling, and floor. It covered the end of the expansive room in a gentle sweeping arch. I had never seen a desk quite like it; it must have been custom-made to match the dreariness of the surroundings.
The receptionist seemed to blend right in with the building as well. She was grey, and very severe. Salt and pepper hair, slicked back into a bun so tight it pulled her thinly plucked brows up, unnaturally.
The collar of her starched white shirt was buttoned all the way to the top with an onyx brooch covering the topmost button. The grey cardigan over it and her black calf-length, straight skirt, looked as old as the hills. Even her skin had a grey pallor, and her tightly pursed lips were white.
I was so busy with my thoughts of how she seemed chiseled out of the same stone as the walls that I actually jumped when she spoke.
“Can I help you?” Her voice grated across my ears, setting my already frayed nerves on edge.
Chris showed her his credentials and told her that we had an appointment to meet with Doctor Lawrence. Once we had both signed in and deposited our jackets in the closet, we went through a metal door off to the side of the great hall.
The nurse who escorted us to Doctor Lawrence’s office was almost as stern looking as the living statue at the desk. I found myself wondering if tightly wrapped buns and pursed lips were a mandatory part of the uniform here.
I was in no way prepared for the doctor.
Twelve
What an odd little man he was!
Standing no more than five feet and perhaps six inches, he was very nearly round. His shock of white hair stood out from the top of his head at odd angles, making him look as though more than a few ghosts had scared him in his time. His puffy cheeks made his eyes look like they were constantly squinting. An amazingly bulbous nose took up most of his face.
All he needed was a red suit and I just may have started believing in Santa Claus, again.
Did this happy looking little man even really belong out there? He certainly did not fit in with the overall feel of the drab surroundings. Moreover, he didn’t look like any doctor I had ever seen before.
When we entered his office, he sat at his desk, looking through some papers. As soon as he realized that we were there, he quite literally jumped to his feet and hurried across the spacious room to welcome us.
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br /> With his hand thrust out toward Chris, a bright smile filled his face, causing his eyes to all but disappear.
“Welcome! Welcome to Mountain View, Doctor McLean! It is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” He pumped Chris’ hand, with great enthusiasm.
Turning to me, I felt his eyes drilling into me for a few moments before he spoke, “Miss Marshall, I am so pleased that you have finally found your way out here.”
I could not for the life of me imagine what he could mean by finally. I had only just found out that my mother was alive, how could I possibly have come out here any sooner?
As we all moved, to sit down on the comfortable sofas arranged in front of the blazing fire, Dr. Lawrence offered us refreshments. A carafe of tea and a steaming percolator filled with coffee sat on the sideboard, accompanied by a tin of cookies.
Chris and I both declined the kind offer; after all, it was by no means a social call. Also, we had finished the coffee and sandwiches that we brought with us not too long before.
Smiling through his all too obvious disappointment at our refusal, the doctor settled himself into a well-used leather chair across from us, and asked what it was that we wanted from him.
“Answers,” I blurted out.
“Of course,” he said, still wearing that same smile. “What can I tell you?”
Tears stung my eyes, as I watched this strange man smiling at me. The smile did not reach his eyes. It stayed on his lips in some sort of false effort to convey congeniality. All it really did though was make my skin crawl.
“Has she really been hiding here for thirty years?” I was finally able to ask. I was holding Chris’ hand as tightly as I could. He was my lifeline. I was afraid to let go of him, through those first few moments at the institute, from fear that I could be sucked in.
Handing me a tissue from the box sitting on the table beside his chair, Doctor Lawrence spoke gently. “Sandra has been here for thirty years, yes. But I am not too sure that I would call it hiding.” He stopped speaking and looked deeply into my eyes, “Surely, you have known of her whereabouts, my dear.”