Red River Falls Stories By soldierboy50401

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"No. I'm not even allowed to sleep on the same floor. I sleep in the basement now with the kids."

"What??? Why do your kids sleep in the basement, Dean?"
Once again, Dean broke down crying and broke down hard. He was silent for nearly two or three minutes as his body silently shook and consumed him in the kind of weeping that barely allowed him to breathe. "Because I'm weak, Pat. (sob) Because I'm not a man, Pat. (sob) I can't even keep this away from my own children!" (sob)
I let Dean calm somewhat before continuing. "Is Mercedes mistreating your kids, Dean? If she is, I need to know about it."
"Not directly," he said, sniffing and blowing his nose. "She makes them sleep in the basement to keep them away from her and Brad when they're having sex in the house. And also because she is trying to become pregnant with Brad's children. And if she does get pregnant, any children she has with him will have a higher status than my children and will get the privilege of sleeping closest to her."
"My God, Dean! Why aren't you putting a stop to this?"
"Because I'm not a man, Pat. She's taken that from me. Every woman I have ever known has taken that from me piece by piece. Mercedes' proudest moment came a few weeks ago when she officially caged me."
"What do you mean, 'caged'? As in actually putting you in a cage? Some kind of bondage thing?"
"No, Pat," he continued, softly. "It's called a cock cage. A small device that encloses around my genitals and has a lock on it that only Mercedes has a key to. She and only she gets to decide when I can have any kind of sex, which is exclusively to relieve myself and only in her presence so she can humiliate me in front of Brad."
Jesus, I thought. This was a million times worse than anything Clarissa had done to me. If she and Bud Roberts had ever tried anything like that, one or both of them would have taken a bullet to the head. No joke.
"It hurts like hell, too, Pat. Getting an erection is excruciating. I have to sit down just to urinate or risk soiling and embarrassing myself when I have to pee. And the ball torture is absolutely unbearable, Pat."
"Ball torture? Explain that."
Dean took another pull of his rum and coke. He was still pretty lucid but starting to slur his words a bit.
"Mercedes' version of ball torture is that she likes to knee or kick me in the balls every once in a while. Some kind of fetish she and Brad got hooked on watching on the internet. The only time I'm ever allowed in my own bedroom anymore, besides watching them have sex, is so she can punish me. So when she calls me to the bedroom it often means a kick in the nuts for me, literally."
Oh-my-fucking-god! I have never raised my hand to a woman in my entire life. Even with all the shit I went through during Clarissa's affair with Bud, I never even came close to punching her in the face. The thought may have gone through my mind once or twice. Never seriously, though. But if a woman ever kicked me in the nuts? For no apparent reason? That woman is gonna be missing some teeth. A LOT of teeth. Kicking a dude in the balls is the greatest physical advantage women have over men. And a damned unfair one at that. Unless you're a woman.
"Jesus, Dean! Doing that over and over again can cause a lot of damage, ya know. Have you ever thought about pressing charges?"
"Psssht," Dean spat. "Mercedes and Brad filmed a short video of her doing that to me and made it look like I was totally into it. And like the pussy-wimp-cuckold I am, I stupidly went along with it. I mean, Jesus! How would you like it if a woman did that to you, Pat? Christ, I've seen you in the men's room. You've got unquestionably the biggest balls and lowest hanging sack I've ever seen on a dude!"
"Jesus, Dean," I said, gritting my teeth. "Keep your voice down, will ya?"
"Aaaaah. What do you have to be so self conscious about? If I had a pair of balls like that I'd be wearing spandex clothes everywhere I went! And who cares what these people think?" he said, getting louder. "I don't! Half of these guys in here probably fucked my wife anyway!"
Hal came over to us. "Is there a problem, Sheriff?"
"No, no," I said, putting my hand on Dean's shoulder to get him to calm down. "My friend is just going through a rough time. We're working it out."
Hal eyeballed Dean for a bit. "Alright, but keep him in line. You won't be the first cop I've kicked out if he gets out of control, okay?"
"I got ya, Hal," I said as Dean went to check on the two other customers at the other end of the bar. "Keep it civil, okay, Dean? We're just here to talk, not make a scene."
"My wife has already made a scene, Pat. She's turned me into the biggest laughing stock in Red River Falls. Did you see how she humiliated me last weekend?"
I sighed. "Yeah, I saw it. But let me ask you a question: What are you going to do about all of this? Are you just going to take it? Or are you going to do something about it? Everything she is doing to you fits the definition of domestic abuse to the very letter of the law and THEN some."
Dean whimpered again. "I dunno, Pat. What can I do? Who would believe me?"
"If you give me a shot, Dean, I can help you with all of this. But you can't leave me hanging, either. I can help end the abuse and get you out of a shitty situation and get you all the evidence you'll need. But you've gotta be invested in it 100%, both physically and emotionally. If you really wanna beat this, you've got to give it everything you have, okay?"
Dean thought for a few moments. "I give in, Pat. I'll do whatever you say. If not for me, then at least for Brandon and Brynne, my kids."
I nodded in agreement. "Yes you do. Let me make a couple of phone calls, okay?"
"Who are you calling?" Dean asked.
"First, I'm gonna call my fiancée Shannon to come pick us up and give us a ride home as I'm pretty sure neither of us are in shape to drive. And, second, I'm going to call in some people who can provide some black-ops kind of help to get you out of this situation once and for all, okay?"
"Okay," he said. "But there is one other thing I should probably tell you, though. Something that really has me scared."
"Oh? What's on your mind, Dean?"
He was silent for a few moments. "Mercedes has a fantasy, Pat."
"Sounds like she has a lot of them, Dean."
"No, you don't understand," he said, looking away and shaking his head.
"Okay, enlighten me."
"She wants my balls, Pat."
"What do you mean?"
"Mercedes wants my balls. She wants me to become a eunuch for her and Brad. She says she is consumed by the idea and that it would make me prove to her how much I love her and also take our relationship to a level that no other couple has ever gone."
"Jesus! She actually told you that?"
"She didn't just tell me that. She told me it was going to happen. Somehow, some way. She said she was going to make me see why it was something I need to do, something WE need to do."
"Did she say how she planned on doing this?"
"No, Pat. She didn't. Mercedes just said that Brad was working on it and would get it figured out."
"Well, in that case, I guess we better grab this bull by the balls and figure it out. Sounds like your life, as you know it, depends on it."
"Yeah, I guess it does, Pat."
*****
Shannon picked me and Dean up from The End Zone as neither of us were remotely in any shape to drive, me from six tall pints of Killian's and Dean from about ten rum and cokes. I had her drive us straight to Dean's house and park about a block away. A second call to Chris and Tonya was done with the purpose of meeting us there. We parked down the street because Dean had no idea if Mercedes would be home or not. At first glance it appeared that she was gone.
Our assessment was confirmed when Dean gingerly approached the front door of their decent-sized ranch house and had to let himself in by unlocking the door. Had Mercedes been home, the door surely would have been unlocked as they lived in a pretty decent neighborhood in southwest Red River Falls. The five of us walked in the house and Dean spied a note left for him on the kitchen dinette table. He picked it up and read through it as the rest of us milled about between the kitchen and living room.
"You have a lovely home, Dean," Shannon complimented. "I have to say Mercedes keeps it beautiful and spotless."
"No, she doesn't," Dean corrected. "I keep it beautiful and spotless."
"Oh, I see," Shannon said, embarrassed.
"Mind if I ask what Mercedes said in the note, Dean?" I asked.
"See for your self," he half-mumbled. "I am sooooo screwed," he said, sitting down at the table and burying his face in his hands.
I picked up the hand-written note and read to myself:
Hey, asshole!
You had NO right to try and ruin my plans for tonight! How dare you! You knew Brad and I were planning on this night for over a week! You KNEW you were supposed to be home right after work! You are the most selfish and self-absorbed person I know. All you do is think of yourself and no one else! Do Brad and I mean nothing to you? Is that how little you think of us? Luckily, I was able to find someone to sit for the kids and they are staying at the Spahns' house this weekend. I suggest you use the time you have to yourself this weekend to think about what you've done! I guarantee Brad and I will be spending some of our time this weekend, the few moments when we are NOT having mind-blowing and earth-shattering sex, to think about some appropriate punishments for you! But we shouldn't have to. You should know your place by now! Think about that while we are gone!
M
P.S. - Brad and I enjoyed a quick fuck before we left. Wash the bedding so they are nice and clean for us when we get home, pussy boy!
I folded the note in half and set it back down on the table. I pulled up a chair next to Dean. I was still a bit tipsy so I spent a few moments thinking of what to say so I didn't sound like an idiot. Dean, on the other hand, was holding his liquor remarkably well, especially for a lightweight. I blamed it on the fact that my Killians was so much heavier than a rum and coke.
"Dean, let me as you a question; what do you want to happen here?"
"I don't know, Pat," he said, shaking his head. "I just want to be happy. I want my kids to be happy. And I want my wife to stop tormenting me like this. I want her and me to be happy together, without all this torture play and without her having to fuck other guys all the time."
"I understand that, Dean. But do you understand that I think your relationship with Mercedes is over? It is a relationship that is incredibly damaging and dehumanizing to you and it needs to end. I'm willing to help you with that but you absolutely have to be willing to let me do it. Will you let me help you, Dean?"
Dean started quietly crying again. Finally, after a minute or two, he nodded his head. "Yes, Pat. I'll do anything for my kids and whatever it takes to get us out of this mess."
"Okay, Dean," I said calmly, rubbing his upper back. "You're making the right decision here." I looked over at Tonya and Chris. "What is your plan, Tonya?"
"First of all," Tonya started, "I need to know how much time we have. I can't just get this stuff set up in five minutes."
"Dean?" I prompted.
Dean looked up, dried his eyes with his hands. "She and Brad will be gone for the rest of the weekend. Pretty sure they were heading all the way to Sioux Falls for the weekend."
"So, what you're saying is, I've got some time to play with?"
Dean just nodded and waved to her to do whatever she wanted.
"Okay," Tonya said. "How many televisions are there in the house?"
"Three," Dean answered. "There's a large TV in the family room in the basement, another smaller one in the kitchen and another large TV in the master bedroom, er, I mean, Mercedes and Brad's room."
"Okay," Tonya said. "I'm going to get started on those first because those will take the longest. Shannon, can you give me some help? Patty-pie still looks pretty rough from his bar crawl."
"Sure! I'd love to," she said eagerly.
"Whoa!" I objected. "I'm not that bad off. I'm in perfect condition to help out."
Shannon walked over to me and said, "Just sit there and chat with Dean. I'm fine helping out and beside that, Dean could use the company."
"But Tonya is going to spend most of the night working on the cameras and working on you, too."
"Jealous much?" Shannon said, giving me a wink and a deep, wet kiss.
I resumed chatting with Dean and basically encouraged him to do what he could to get himself some professional help. I also suggested that he think strongly about getting his kids some counseling, as well, to make sure they hadn't been harmed by this outlandish situation. Dean acknowledged he would.
I followed Dean into the basement as he gave me the nickel tour of the house. The basement family room was quite large with the TV and entertainment center on one end and three beds on the other end, just as Dean had told me at the bar. Sure enough, Dean was living in the basement with Brandon and Brynne while Mercedes and Brad occupied the master bedroom.
There was an end table and something on it.
"What's that next to your bed, Dean? Is that a baby monitor?"
Dean looked particularly embarrassed. "Yeah, it is."
"What's the purpose of that?"
Dean took his time answering. "That's so Mercedes can make sure I'm listening when she and Brad are...well...you know." I just looked away in disbelief and shook my head.
"What about the kids? Do the kids know what's going on?"
"No," Dean said. "That's another reason for the baby monitor. She makes me stay down here and watch the kids when they're home to make sure they don't go up stairs. Also, so she can talk to me and tell me everything Brad is doing to her and how it is so much better than I could ever do."
Dean turned away and it was clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore. I just couldn't fathom the idea of how a successful, educated and decent guy like Dean could be forced to endure this kind of life. But thinking about all the things he had to endure growing up, it wasn't such a long walk to come to the conclusion that anyone can become that damaged through prolonged exposure to misery, humiliation and domination. It had happened to Dean when he was most vulnerable and he had never been able to escape it.
Tonya, Chris and Shannon all started to work on getting the cameras placed. Tonya and Chris started removing the backs of the large TVs first while Shannon began removing the back of the TV in the kitchen. It took them about ten or fifteen minutes to complete that task. The next phase took a little bit longer. Tonya produced three small implantable nanny cameras that she purchased from a company called Personal Spy Supply.
It took her nearly an hour to wire all three cameras into place. Since all three of the televisions were smart TVs, she was able to link all three of the cameras to an online program that would literally enable Dean, or anyone he authorized, to be able to view real-time footage from the cameras from literally anywhere in the world. She also supplied Dean with a one terabyte external drive that was set up to record hours and hours of video feed from the cameras.
But Tonya wasn't done yet. In addition to that, she produced three multiple-outlet power strips that had hidden cameras built right into the plug-ins for the wall. They drew their power directly from the outlet and were also wirelessly connected to the same program. Tonya also replaced three smoke detectors in the bedroom, basement and living room that contained cameras as well. She even changed out the thermostat for the HVAC system with a nearly identical one that - yep, you guessed it - contained a hidden camera and still provided full controls for the HVAC system along with a carbon monoxide detector in the kitchen that had its own camera as well.
As a final touch, Tonya gave Dean a digital picture frame that also included a hidden camera. Tonya suggested that Dean give the frame to Mercedes as a peace offering when she got home.
"Might be worth a shot," Dean conceded. "I'll tell her she can fill it full of pictures of her and Brad. Maybe that will make her happy."
It was nearly ten o'clock by the time Tonya finished everything. I never would have guessed that she could do something like all of this but she never ceases to amaze me. She was starting to offer personal and business security to many of the businesses and people she was working with in her freelance networking business. Lucky for Dean, he would now have over a dozen hidden cameras working to capture anything that happened between him and Mercedes in the future.
"Thanks for everything you guys," Dean said as we got ready to leave.
"Not a problem, Dean. You know we're here to help. Anything you need, just ask for it, okay?"
"I'll do that, Pat."
"See you Monday, okay?"
"Are you sure, Pat?"
"Trust me, Dean. You just show up ready to work. I'll make sure you don't go anywhere. Just make sure that when you are at work that you are busting your ass for everybody. Don't be late and don't call in sick, no matter how much you want to, okay?"
"I promise."
"Okay. See you first thing Monday morning."
*****
I woke up Saturday morning with a good hangover and a splitting headache. Shannon was perfect through the whole thing and never chided me once for it. As soon as I felt halfway human again, she drove me back to The End Zone so I could retrieve my pickup and drive it back out to the farm.
The rest of the weekend proceeded normally, at least from my end. I was genuinely afraid for Dean and I could only imagine the worst as far as what Mercedes and Brad would do when they got home from their lovers retreat. Pretty sure that both of them would have ended up with a bullet in the head if I had been Dean. But I guess I'm a little sour after what Clarissa put me through, too.
Monday ended up being just another normal workday. I saw Dean out and about in several of the offices around the courthouse and genuinely seemed like he was back to his old self. I began to think that maybe things hadn't gone that badly when Mercedes returned. I wouldn't say Dean had a spring in his step, but he definitely was more upbeat than he had been in a long time.
Tuesday morning, however, proved that one can never make assumptions and any hope that Dean was out of the woods was quickly extinguished as he frantically made his way into my office around 8:30. He looked scared shitless and absolutely shell-shocked. His hair was a mess, his clothes were visibly filthy and he smelled like he hadn't showered since Sunday. He immediately closed the door as he came in.
"Pat, I made a terrible mistake! I shouldn't have told you all that stuff. You need to help me get rid of all those cameras! If Mercedes finds them, I have no idea what she and Brad will do!"
"Okay, okay, calm down," I said, trying to be soothing. It wasn't helping.
"No, no, no! Dammit, Pat! You gotta help me get rid of all that stuff! Please!"
"Dean, you need to calm down. Now!"
Exasperated, he flopped into one of the chairs in front of my desk and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. I could tell his face was flushed and his heart must have been racing a hundred miles an hour.
"Okay, now, Dean. Tell me what's going on. You seemed fine yesterday."
"I know, I know," he sobbed. "But that was because she didn't come home until last night. She and Brad stayed in the Twin Cities all weekend and decided to stay another night because they were pissed at me for coming home so late."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Did you two get into a big fight?"

"You could call it that, I suppose. But, it was more than that. She was meaner and more vicious than ever. And because Brad was there, she knew she could do whatever she wanted and there was nothing I could do about it. And she'll do it again, Pat, and it will be a million times worse if they find those cameras!"
"But they DIDN'T find the cameras, right?"
"No, they didn't Pat. But I'm afraid it was just a matter of time before they do. I gave her the picture frame like Tonya said. I even programmed nothing but pictures of her and Brad on it. She liked it at first but then she told me that nothing could make up for what I did last Friday. She put the picture frame on her side of the bed and then punished me."
"Punished you?" I queried.
"Yes."
"What did she do, Dean? Remember, I'm not judging your. I wanna help you, okay?"
Dean cried quietly for a few moments before answering. "You have the password, Pat. See for yourself." And he got up to leave.
"Where are you going, Dean?"
"Gonna try to get some work done. I know what everyone in this building thinks of me. But I'm no use to anyone if I get fired."
"Okay, okay. I understand. I'm gonna watch the video, Dean. And if I think I need to get you some place safe, will you let me take you there?"
"There is no safe place for me, Pat."
"Before you go, Dean, I at least want to give you something." I reached into my drawer and pulled out some old 1990's-era technology. "Here. Take this," I said, handing him a clunky old pager.
"What's this for?"
"It's a pager, of course. But it has its own number. And, more importantly, it has a panic button on it, Dean. All you have to do is hit the red button on top to activate it. The signal is one we can triangulate on. It isn't as accurate as GPS, but it isn't too far removed, either."
"What if Mercedes sees this?"
"Just tell her I'm old fashioned and that I need you to be accessible for public safety reasons. It's not even a lie, Dean."
Dean paused for a few moments, staring at the pager and contemplating. "Pat, you...you know...what she wants to do to me...right?"
"Yeah, Dean, I know. I'm not gonna let that happen, okay? I'm gonna watch the video and we'll figure out what to do next, okay?"
"Okay," he said. And then he left my office and returned to work.
I got on my desk phone intercom and rang my secretary, Karen Landingham.
"Yes, Sheriff?" she answered.
"Karen, can you see if Chief Deputy Villanueva and Lieutenant Chris Hayes are available to meet me in my office in about 20 or 30 minutes?"
"Absolutely, Sheriff."
Mercedes Strobe wanted to emasculate her husband for real. She had been doing it figuratively for years and it had now developed into a macabre fantasy. The question that kept going through my mind was 'how was she going to do it?' It was obvious that she wasn't going to just up and tie him down and castrate him like a hog. Chances are that Dean would bleed to death if she did.
Dean had said specifically that Mercedes was enlisting Brad Weston's help and that he, himself, was taking care of the details. That obviously meant that there was some serious planning and consideration going on. And, if that was the case, there was a conspiracy involved. And, if THAT was the case, just exactly how many people were in on it?
Most likely there would be medical people involved or, at the very least, people who had some sort of medical training and would theoretically be able to cut his balls off without managing to kill him in the process.
Shortly after 9 o'clock, both Ben Villanueva and Chris Hayes were in my office and I was briefing them on what had transpired with Dean Strobe. Both men were incredulous and slightly amused and kept looking at each other in disbelief as I divulged some of the more intimate details of Mercedes' and Dean's relationship.
"So, Dean told you all of this?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, last Friday."
"How'd you get him to spill his guts?" Ben wondered.
"The old-fashioned way. I took him to The End Zone and got him plastered. After a few rums and Coke, he was pretty much singing like Beverly Sills."
"So what proof do you have of the abuse?"
"Well...none," I admitted. "But that is why I brought you two in here. Dean showed up this morning and looked like he could lose his bowels at any moment. Whatever happened when Mercedes and Brad came home last night, it was enough to put the fear of Jesus in him. So I figured we could review the video from last night and see what happened."
"Got any popcorn?" Chris asked, being a smart ass. I gave him a brief death stare. "Ok, guess not."
I turned my laptop on and followed the instructions Tonya gave me for getting into the server that would enable me to look at the real time and stored footage from the cameras hidden in Dean's house. It took me about 8 or 10 minutes because I am no genius when it comes to computers. I often fantasized that law enforcement had to be a lot easier 20 or 30 years ago when all you had to do was write tickets by hand and could get all your info from the dispatcher.
Finally, I got logged in and I clicked on the timeline review. I started looking at video feed from 5 o'clock and later, as I knew that was the time Dean usually got home.
We viewed Dean coming home from work with his kids. He made them supper and helped them with their college work for a bit. He constantly kept looking at his watch or looking at the wall clock. Clearly, he expected Mercedes home at any moment.
Mercedes arrived home to great fanfare at almost 8 pm. She was accompanied by Brad Weston and two other male companions. She paid very brief attention to both of the kids for a few moments, giving them hugs and asking about their day. Mercedes then quickly dispatched both of them by telling them to go down the street to their friends' house and hang out for a while, which they were only too happy to do on a college night. Once they were gone, all-fucking-hell broke loose.
"I'll give her one thing," Ben commented, "Dean's old lady is pretty damned good looking."
"Yeah, but she's a royal bitch," Chris added.
"Amen to that," I concurred.
I turned up the audio so we could hear.
"Alright, you pathetic little fuck! Do you want to explain yourself for last Friday and how you damned near fucked up my weekend with Brad?"
"I couldn't help it, I swear!" Dean pleaded.
"Bullshit, Dean! You've never been stupid enough to cross me like this! You knew perfectly well that Brad and I were getting ready to leave! I don't know what the fuck you could have possibly been thinking!"
"I swear, Mercedes! I had to meet with the Sheriff! It was extremely important! The Sheriff insisted that I help him!"
"Your first responsibility, Dean, is to ME! Not the Sheriff!"
"Aw, please, Mercedes! It was important! I help Pat Quinn catch a lot of bad people by working for him! It was important, I swear!"
"Like I said, Dean. Your first responsibility in this is house is to ME! Your second responsibility is to Brad! Get in the bedroom! NOW!"
We switched camera views to catch the scene as it shifted to the master bedroom. Dean was actually in tears and obviously afraid. Dean apparently knew what was coming and was terrified.
"Strip!" Mercedes ordered.
"Please, Mercedes! No," Dean pleaded.
"I'm not asking you to, Dean! Get your fucking clothes off NOW!"
"You heard what she said," Brad threatened. "Clothes. Off. Now!"
Dean stood there for a moment while the two lovers eyeballed him menacingly. Reluctantly, Dean began to take off one article of clothing at a time, slowly, until he stood there covering his genitals with his hands, thoroughly embarrassed.
"Cuffs!" Mercedes barked. "Get 'em on now!"
Shamefully, Dean picked up a pair of handcuffs and applied them to himself. He was breathing so fast, almost to the point of hyperventilating.
"Brad? Can you give me a hand with the cable?" Mercedes begged.
"Gladly," he said with a shit-eating grin. Man, I was really starting to despise that asshole.
Ben, Chris and I watched in horrific fascination as Brad applied a D-ring to the chain linking the two cuffs. The chain was connected to a small strand of cable that ran to a small pulley mounted to the ceiling. As soon as Brad had the cable connected to the cuffs, he then pulled the slack from the cable until he had Dean's arms extended fully over his head. He then connected the distant end of the cable to a hook attached to the wall just outside the master bathroom. Dean was nearly fully suspended with just his toes touching the carpet.
"This is what you get for almost ruining our weekend! Guyahhh!"
A blood-curdling scream from Dean followed immediately as Mercedes, in all her beautiful fury, had reached back and punched Dean with a closed fist right in his junk.
"Holy shit!" Chris Hayes shrieked.
"Jesus Christ!" Ben followed. "Are you fucking kidding me?!!"
"Easy, easy, guys!" I admonished. "I can't hear what they're saying!"
Mercedes followed her initial assault on Dean's manhood with four rapid-fire knees to the groin that had Dean grunting and stifled his attempts at screaming and only left him there dangling and starting a violent coughing spell that wracked his entire body.
"This is what you get for forgetting your place, Dean! I told you specifically that you had better have your ass home by the time Brad and I were getting ready to leave! What? Did you think I was fucking kidding?!! Did you think this was some kind of a sick joke?!! Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?!! There are ALWAYS consequences, Dean! You're a smart guy! Isn't that some kind of scientific thing? For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction? Huh, Dean?!!"
Dean's coughing spell from the battery of his jewels was interrupted as Mercedes moved in close, her face possessing the most hellish and fiendish look. She proceeded to grab Dean's testicles and his dick and very forcefully began to squeeze them for all they were worth. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw and tensing every last muscle in his body to try and withstand the pain. Slowly, he was losing the fight and he began to break down in stuttered sobbing.
Finally, after three or four minutes, Mercedes' face lost the look of evil and her expression softened. She relaxed her grip and released Dean's tortured genitals. I sat there in shock as I saw what appeared to be a few drops of blood drip from the tip of Dean's abused penis. Dean exhaled a huge breath and hung there gasping for more air.
"Brad, can you give Dean and me couple of minutes to talk?"
"Sure, sugar tits," he cooed, walking up to Mercedes. He gave Dean a brief look and a smirk before attempting to swallow Mercedes' entire face in the most garish kissing I had ever seen two people attempt. He then exited the master bedroom and walked to the living room.
Mercedes suddenly tried to sooth and caress Dean.
"There, there, there, sweetheart," Mercedes soothed in a sickeningly sweet voice. "It's all over with for right now, okay?" She smiled sympathetically as she continued to caress his face. "I just need for you to understand, Dean, how much you hurt me with your actions. You need to know how it makes me feel inside when I feel like I don't have your complete attention. You always promised me that you would put me first, Dean. You promised that my needs would always come first, didn't you?"
Dean just hung there, sobbing quietly, desperately trying to avoid looking her in the face.
"Well, Dean? Didn't you?"
Dean finally hung his head in defeat, sobbing and reluctantly nodding.
"I...(sob)...didn't know...it was going...(sob)...to be like...this," he stammered.
Mercedes cupped Dean's face with both hands and looked tenderly into his eyes.
"Relationships change, Dean. They evolve. Ours is no different. What started out as you and me has grown into me, Brad and you. That's what makes us special, Dean. That we can grow our relationship like this, that it is always changing and evolving and blooming into something more beautiful each day."
"This...isn't...beautiful any...more. I...(sob)...don't...want to...live...like this...any...more..." Dean stammered.
"That's because you're in pain right now, sweetheart. I understand that. I totally get that. We often get angry when we are in pain. But that is just more of a reason for why this needs to happen. You need to trust me on this, Dean. What I am asking you to do for me will relieve you of this pain. You've seen today and before how much pain these things can cause," Mercedes said, gingerly caressing the scrotum she had viciously attacked only moments before.
"I...can't!" Dean stuttered, anguished.
"Yes, you can, baby! What I am asking from you is just as much of a gift to you as it is a gift to me! By finally allowing me to explore myself freely with Brad I am freeing you from a life that could only cause you more pain! You would be free, sweetheart. Free to serve and protect my relationship with Brad the way you were meant to!"
"Oh-my-fucking-God!" Chris blurted out. "Can you believe the shit coming out of that fucking whore's mouth?"
Ben Villanueva just stared at the screen, riveted and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Dean," Mercedes continued, "there would be no other couple that we could possibly know of where one partner has sacrificed so much for another. It would take our marriage and our relationship to a level never seen before. You would be proving your love to me in a way that no man has ever done before, sweetheart. No other man on the face of the earth could possibly say that they loved their wife more than you have loved me."
Dean just continued to hang there like a slab of beef in a meat locker. He was still quietly sobbing, trying to come to terms with what his wife was demanding of him and probably wondering how his miserable life could possibly have come to this. How low could you go? How bad could things really get? A man will endure just about any type of trial, tribulation or torture so long as it doesn't involve his manhood. But in return for what she was passing off for love to her husband, Mercedes was demanding exactly that price.
"I'm going to give you some time to let this sink in, Dean. But know that everything I have done today is only because of one thing - that I love you so much. Only a woman who loves her husband as much as I do could possibly go to this length to show him how much he has hurt her with his actions. So in a way, Dean, I didn't do this to you. You brought this on yourself."
Dean continued to hang silently, crying and sobbing. Mercedes turned to leave the bedroom. When she got to the door, she stopped and did an about face. "Oh, one more thing," she said.
WHUMPF!
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh!" came Dean's anguished cry as Mercedes delivered a devastating full kick to his groin one more time. Then she turned and made a hasty exit, slamming the bedroom door behind her, presumably to drown out as much of Dean's anguish as possible.
The three of us watched in horror as Dean again was overcome by a vicious and violent coughing spell, one that was so severe it eventually caused him to projectile vomit all over himself and the bedroom carpet. A few more drops of blood trickled from his penis, indicating that her assault had caused significant damage. We gawked helplessly as Dean's bowels let loose a few moments later with brownish green diarrhea exploding from his rectum. Dean could do nothing except get it all out of his system as he hung there swinging.
I finally decided I couldn't take anymore and fast-forwarded to the part of the video where a grossed out and reluctant Brad Weston, his face covered by a neckerchief, nearly vomited himself as he came back to the bedroom and released the cable that was suspending Dean. Dean, expectedly, collapsed onto the floor and into the pile of his own filth that was a result of the horrific stages of events. All told, Brad and Mercedes had forced Dean to hang there in that room for over forty-five minutes.
I finally clicked off the video feed and the three of us just sat there in silence for a few moments, each of us too stunned and at a loss for words. Finally, Chris spoke.
"Fuck me, Pat," he breathed. "I've seen a lot of fucked up shit in this line of work. But, until today, I have NEVER seen anything as unbelievably god-awful as that!"
"You can say that again," Ben added. "Even those poor bastard rag heads down in Guantanamo Bay never had to endure anything like that."
"I know, I know, gentlemen," I agreed. "The problem is, how do we go about this?"
"What do you mean, Pat? It's simple. We go arrest their fucking asses! That bitch of a wife and Brad both!"
"I get it, Chris, I'd love to. But I'm concerned that Mercedes has enough of a psychological hold over Dean right now that he would most likely cave in and do and say whatever she told him to say."
"I'm trying to follow you, Pat," Ben said, "but where are you going with this? It looks pretty cut-and-dried to me."
"What I'm saying is, gentlemen, is that she could easily say that they are into some extreme BDSM or something like that. She could say that their relationship is one that is driven by extremes and living on the edge. They wouldn't be the first people in history to be into some extremely weird and freaky shit. Believe me, I'd love to rush over there and bust them for assault, too, but I really think it is going to be more complicated than that."
"Assault, Pat?" Chris asked, becoming indignant. "You want to arrest them for assault? That was no assault, Pat. Our friend Dean was just TORTURED in his own home! Assault charges don't even come close, Pat! Jesus Christ!!" Chris turned and started pacing the room, so furious he was about witnessing his friend's abuse.
I tried to remain calm. "Torture, Chris? Really? Do you want to show me where it is in the city, county and state codes that allow us to charge someone with torture? Sorry, dude, but the best we can get them for is felony aggravated assault with a conspiracy charge and an unlawful restraint charge thrown in for a little spice." Chris stopped pacing and just stared at me.
"Pat's right," Ben said. "He's especially right about what he said earlier, that Dean's wife has a mental hold over him. She even specifically alluded to previous sessions of this kind of abuse and they didn't just install that contraption like that moments before they did it. If Dean really wanted to, or was even able to, he would have done something about it the first time they abused him like this. Face it, Chris, she's completely inside Dean's head."
Chris said down on his chair in front of my desk again, sighed heavily and nodded his head in agreement.
"On top of everything else, what we just saw was recorded video. The events are already over twelve hours old. One of the first things Marion Lawson would want to know is why he took so long to report it and that's only if we could convince him to go in right now," I pointed out.
"So what's the plan then, you guys? I mean, I don't know Dean as well as you two do but I know him well enough to at least consider him a friend and not just a work colleague, ya know?"
"I get it Chris. We're all upset and pissed off. But we have to be careful, too. I want to really nail that bitch and that rectal itch, Brad Weston. And I also want to make sure the charges stick when we charge them, too."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"What about the video then, Pat? Please tell me we didn't just install it to spy on them."

"No, Chris, we didn't. Dean signed all the necessary release forms for us. That's why he begged me earlier to take everything out. He knows it is all admissible. Dean's just freaking out now because he wants plausible deniability if Mercedes ever finds the cameras."
"She won't, ya know," Chris assured me. "Tonya put those cameras in there good. Mercedes and Brad would have to know exactly what they were looking for in order to find them."
"I have no doubt about that," I assured Chris. "The first thing that I need to do is call Marion Lawson and find out how he wants to proceed with this if we can convince Dean to actually file charges."
"What do we do in the meantime, then?" Ben asked. "Every minute that Dean spends in the house with Mercedes and Brad is another minute closer to him becoming a eunuch."
"When Dean left my office a little while ago, I gave him a pager to use. I told him to tell Mercedes that it was assigned to him specifically from me so I can get immediate access to him if I need it for an emergency. It has a panic button on there that can give us a radio frequency location. It will be through triangulation instead of GPS, but it will give us a close fix in a hurry."
Chris and Ben nodded in agreement. "Let's just hope he comes to his senses first," Ben said.
"I'd like him to, but we all know that's not likely. Dean is a victim but we need to remember that he may not side with us."
"Okay, Pat. Chris and I better get back to work. Let us know how Lawson wants to proceed with this."
"Will do, gentlemen."
*****
Needless to say my conversation with our County Attorney, Marion Lawson, didn't go well. But, then again, NONE of my conversations with him tended to go well. Marion initially asked me if the folks from "Candid Camera" or "Punked" were going to appear soon as he couldn't believe a word of what I told him. He got a little pissed when I reminded him that neither "Candid Camera" nor "Punked" were even on television anymore and hadn't been for quite some time.
I sent Marion a few clips of the video and asked him to keep it pretty close to the chest, to which he reluctantly agreed. When I told him that Mercedes wanted to cut Dean's balls off, Marion replied, "Well, Jesus! I'd cut my nuts off and giftwrap 'em for her just to have a chance to fuck her at least once!" I sensed quickly that Marion didn't view the situation as seriously as I did.
I caught up with Dean again later in the day and told him that I knew what had happened at the house the night before. He looked like absolute hell, which was understandable. After he had finally been able to get himself back under control again following the beating, he had placed a pained and anguished call to "ServiceMaster" to come and clean up the mess in the bedroom. Brad had disappeared for the night and Mercedes took off with Brandon and Brynne while their dad took care of the mess, which probably wasn't well explained to the kids. Understandable.
Dean had then spent three hours in the emergency room that night getting an examination of his genitals. He had told the doctor and nurses that he suffered some kind of calamity while doing yard work, which they had all accepted without hesitation, surprisingly. They probably just didn't want to get caught up in whatever kind of fucked up shit their patient had gotten into and left it at that.
Dean told me that his physician had placed a catheter in him to help drain out any urine and to make sure that there were no clots in his urethra that could block any urine flow. A pelvic CT scan ensured that there was no twisting of the spermatic cord in his testicles that could have necessitated surgery right then to correct. Finally, they gave him three or four bags of IV fluids to flush out his system and make sure he could urinate and maintain some semblance of function down there. Copious amounts of ice kept a good amount of the pain at bay and the swelling down.
Dean didn't return home until nearly 3 am following his visit to the ER. That alone explained why he looked like absolute hell today.
I also managed to head off another crisis when I caught Mitch Monahan in the hallway just as he was headed to my office. He was actually on his way to tell me that he was going to fire Dean for being late that morning and because he seemed to be completely lost in space all day and the elected officials and department heads were all demanding Dean's head again.
I felt bad for Mitch because I knew he was truly in a tough spot. As county administrator he was responsible for dealing with employee issues with non-union and non-bargaining county employees, which Dean was. As much as Dean's professional fate was in Mitch Monahan's hands, Mitch's professional fate was in the hands of the elected county officials. I repeatedly assured Mitch that I would back him 100% if any of the other elected officials started giving him a lot of grief and to give Dean time off for Family Medical Leave ACT, of FMLA, if necessary. They can't legally fire him while he is on FMLA.
Wednesday of that week came and went and there were no major eruptions to speak of. Dean was at work all day that day and seemed to be productive. I didn't speak with him directly, I simply passed him in the hallway as I was on my way to the courtroom on the lower floor. Dean only gave me a nod but I did notice that he was actually wearing the pager I gave him. I took some solace in knowing that at least he could contact me if necessary, especially since he probably wouldn't be able to call me if he was in danger.
Thursday morning I was tied up in a meeting with the county supervisors for nearly three hours going over the plans I had come up with for a new multi-agency public safety center that could potentially be built on the north side of Red River Falls. The supervisors were initially extremely skeptical of my plans, particularly when I informed them that the overall cost would probably be close to $40 million.
The plans would include new sheriff's offices, two additional courtrooms, space for a new Red River Falls security officer headquarters and a brand new six-bay fire station that would allow the Red River Falls fire department to be able to drive their trucks through the apparatus floor from the front and rear. This would eliminate them from having to back their trucks into their bays from a busy street. The building would also include a large public recreation and wellness center, a public safety shelter capable of safeguarding 500 people and an attached National Guard armory.
The building would also contain our new jail, which would dramatically increase capacity from our current 40-beds to nearly 300. Initially, none of the supervisors were even remotely paying attention, just giving me their required time. But when I told them that I had already received preliminary grants from both the Federal government and Martin Belmond's charitable foundation that would offset more than half the cost, suddenly they perked right up and became very attentive. A meeting I was initially expecting to last for an hour ended up taking almost three-and-a-half.
I was feeling pretty damned good about myself the rest of the day, filled with excitement and anticipation of the very real possibility that I could be helping to bring a state-of-the-art public safety facility to Red River Falls and Mason County. I had so engrossed myself in work that I hadn't even noticed that it was nearly 17:00. The only thing that snapped me out of my busy trance was my phone buzzing in its carrier.
I picked up my phone and haphazardly glanced at the screen. My heart nearly stopped as I saw that it was the pre-determined distress signal from the pager I had given Dean. It read "9-1-1". I immediately grabbed my desk phone and punched in the speed dial for our dispatch center. Liz Harrison, our lead dispatcher, answered the call.
"Yes, sheriff? What can I do for you?"
"Liz! I need an immediate trace on a department pager signal!"
"Okay," she said, not breaking her tone. "Can you give me the radio number?"
"Yes! The number is 9150!"
"Give me a minute," she said. I paced for a good minute before she came back on the line. "Sheriff, my computer is showing that emergency signal coming from the vicinity of Montgomery Avenue and 25th Street Southwest."
My mind raced as I thought for a moment. Holy Shit! That's near Dean's house! He must still be at home.
"Thanks, Liz," I stammered. "Oh, and by the way, please do me a favor and page Captain Ben Villanueva, Lieutenant Chris Hayes and have them meet me at the sheriff's office immediately. Oh, and radio Lieutenant Angel Ryerson and have all of Bravo shift gather here also, will you?"
"Absolutely, Sheriff. Need anything else?"
"No, Liz. That should be it."
"Ten-four," she said. "Pages are going out as we speak."
My mind was racing. So Dean was probably still at home. But what was going on? As soon as I asked myself the question I knew I had the answer. Of course! We had the whole house wired for video and sound! I dashed to my computer and scrolled down in the browser to the link for the video surveillance system and punched in the passwords. It took literally only seconds to get it right today, thank God, as opposed to a couple of days ago.
I selected the 'Live Stream' option and waited while the video stream initialized for me to be able to view it.
The video came up on my laptop with the screen divided into the different views the multiple cameras were giving me. Everyone was in the master bedroom and I enlarged that view on computer. Dean was cornered by Mercedes, Brad and two other men that I didn't immediately recognize. Dean was hysterical and was pleading with them all as though he were pleading for his life.
"Please, Mercedes! I'm begging you! Don't do this to me!"
"We're done discussing this, Dean! We've already made a decision, remember?"
"I never agreed to anything, Mercedes! Not like this!"
"You and I agreed, Dean, that my happiness came first and foremost in our marriage. We agreed that you would do whatever it took to make me happy. This is what I want. This is what makes me happy. So, by default, this is what WE want - even if you can't see that right now."
Jesus, she was a mind-controlling, manipulative bitch! It was now obvious why the other two males were also in the residence. They were there to make sure Dean went through with this debacle whether he wanted to or not. Obviously, from the way he was crying and begging, Dean wanted no part of this. At least he had the sense to hit the panic button on his pager. Thank GOD he was smart enough to wear the pager!
Mercedes looked at Brad and his two buddies. "Look, the sooner we get this over with the better it is going to be for all of us. So, I'm going to go get my stuff ready and you guys make sure Dean gets ready. What time do we need to be wherever it is we're going?"
"Doc wants us there no later than five-thirty. They gotta prep everything and make sure everyone else is outta there. Deano goes under the knife no later than six-thirty," Brad informed everyone.
"Fine. Just get him ready," she said, giving Brad a kiss.
"Sounds good, babe," he said. "Alright, Deano, the doc wants you nice and clean so you need to hit the shower first." Dean stood there, petrified. "Let's go, Dean! Come on! Get your ass in the shower!"
Dean stood there like the proverbial deer in the headlights. His only defense at this point was to try and stall.
"Aw, Jesus Christ," he said, losing his patience. "Come on, you two. Give me a hand."
Brad and one of the other two males forcibly grabbed Dean and immediately started ripping his clothes off while the third one started the shower in the master bath. As they were undoing Dean's belt and taking his pants off, Brad Weston noticed the pager on Dean's belt. The sight of a pager in this day and age was obviously a rare occurrence.
"What the fuck is this? A pager? You still carry a fucking pager?" he chuckled.
"It's...not mine," Dean said through his sobs. "It belongs...to the...sheriff's...department."
"What the fuck do you carry it for?"
"I...I do...a lot of...work...for Sheriff...Quinn."
Brad started laughing out loud. "Sheriff Quinn! What a fucking trip! Whatever, dude! Throw his ass in the shower!"
The three men finished stripping Dean and literally tossed him in the shower where he proceeded to curl up on the floor in a fetal position. Brad and his two buddies stood just outside the bathroom door where they could keep an eye on Dean.
"Hey, Brad," one of the two men said. "What's the deal with him and the sheriff? I mean, is it really a good idea to fuck with him like this if he's really close to the sheriff?"
"Jesus, Kyle. Don't be such a pussy! We got nothing to worry about with the sheriff. Trust me!"
"Now hold on a minute, Brad," the other stranger said. "Kyle's got a point."
"Fuck, Todd! You too? What the hell are you two pussies worried about? Sheriff Quinn is one of the biggest douche bags in the entire state! I guarantee you he doesn't have a clue what is going on."
"How can you be so sure?" Kyle asked.
"Because he is a dense motherfucker, that's why. Look, can you two keep a secret? I mean, I don't want Mercedes finding out because they used to be friends."
"Jesus, Brad," Todd said. "Of course we can. Bros don't narc out other bros, right?"
"Damned straight they don't! I'll kick both of your asses if you ever spill this, okay?"
"Lips are sealed," Kyle said.
"Okay, here goes," Brad started, pausing for effect. "I fucked Quinn's ex old lady."
"No fucking way!" Todd blurted.
"I call bullshit," Kyle added.
"No, I swear to God! I fucked her, like, six times! Her name was Clarissa and she did shit for me she wouldn't even do for her husband, yo!"
"Are you fucking serious? Man! Quinn would beat your ass if he found out," Todd said.
My fists were clenched tightly and I could feel the acid pour into my stomach as I heard Brad Weston brag about screwing my ex-wife. I didn't freak out right then and there because I didn't know instantly if he was just bullshitting his friends or not. But just the fact that he even said it made me want to slit his goddamned throat!
"Naw, man. Quinn don't have a fucking clue, dude! Because, do you wanna know what the best part is? It's the fact that I was fucking HER while she was cheating on HIM with somebody else! Isn't that fucked up?!! That crazy bitch was cheating with me on the guy she was cheating on her husband with!"
"Get the fuck out of here!" Kyle laughed.
"You fucking rock, dude!" Todd added, amazed.
I stood there seething. Brad had just confirmed it. There was no other way that he could have known Clarissa had cheated on me unless he heard it from her himself. Even though Clarissa and I had been divorced for months, it still opened up a new wound that would take me a long time to get over. I might forgive her, but I would never forget!
Just then my afternoon shift supervisor, Lieutenant Deputy Angel Ryerson arrived in my office.
"Hey, Pat. I got the word to meet you here," she said. "Pat? Pat!"
"What? Oh, sorry," I said sheepishly. "I was distracted. Are the rest of the deputies here?"
"Brian Kelly and Danny Larson are both here. Still waiting on the other two."
"Did you tell Deputy Kinch to stay at his post in Royal Fork?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, have Kelly and Larson wait in the conference room. I'll wait until Deputy Rousch and Deputy Lowe get here before I brief you all on what's going on, okay? Oh, and give Red River Falls P.D. a heads up that we might need them, too, okay?"
"Jeez, Sheriff. Are we going to war or what?"
"I don't know yet, but let's be prepared just in case."
"Okay. I'll get 'em all together and call the P.D."
I returned my attention to my laptop and saw that the three men had returned their attention to Dean and were dragging him out of the shower and forcibly drying him off, teasing and taunting him mercilessly the whole way.
"Don't feel too bad, Deano," Brad said. "Some guys just don't deserve to keep their balls."
The other two men laughed. "How did you get this whole thing set up, Brad?" Todd wanted to know.
"I used to work out with Doctor ,.n. After a while he hired me as a personal trainer and that's how I got started in my sideline job. Selling insurance doesn't really make a chick's panties wet, ya know? So Doc ,.n sees me with a lot of the women I train with and asks if I can hook him up, too. So I did. Man, I've scored more pussy for that dude than he could shake a stick at. So I told him I'd need him to return the favor some day and that's why he agreed to help me out with neutering old Deano here."
"Isn't the doc married, too?" Todd asked.
"Yeah, but he was desperate to get something on the side. He says his old lady is a frigid bitch who was just out to get her M-R-S degree in college. Pretty much forgot all about sex after they got married and had a couple of kids."
Brad, Kyle and Todd all forcibly dressed Dean in a sweat suit, presumably because he would be getting undressed wherever this "operation" was supposed to take place.
"Alright, let's sit tight. Mercedes should be back in a minute with my van," Brad said.
"So you really nailed the sheriff's wife, huh? That's fucking awesome, dude!" Kyle said admiringly.
"Yeah, man. Like, six times."
"Was she hot?" Todd asked.
"Oh, yeah. I don't dig on fat and ugly chicks. That's why I score chicks at the gym. Clarissa wasn't the best piece of ass I've had but definitely not the worst."
It was all I could do not to punch the screen of my own computer as I had to listen to Brad talk about fucking my ex-wife. God as my witness, I swore to myself, I would have a piece of his ass some how, some where, at some time. I would bring the man extreme pain.
"Who's the best piece of ass you ever fucked?" Kyle asked.
"The best piece of ass? The best piece of ass is the one I haven't had yet. If you think Clarissa Quinn was hot, you haven't seen Sheriff Quinn's fiancée. Her name is Shannon. I've only seen her a few times but I have decided to make it my mission in life to fuck the shit out of that woman. She's the kind of chick you take one look at and think 'where have you been my whole life?'
She is fucking SMOKING hot! Huge, perfect tits and the most spectacular bubble ass I've ever seen. Plus she's tall, like 5-9 or 5-10. Like I said, she is my next conquest after me and Mercedes are done."
Buddy, you just signed your own death warrant!
"Sheriff?" Angel said.
"Yeah?"
"Uh, the whole duty shift is here. And Captain Villanueva just got here, too." She could see that I was obviously upset. "Are you okay, Pat? You don't look too good."
"I'm fine, Angel. I'm fine. We just have to act fast. Run into the conference room and tell everyone to don riot gear. Helmets, tactical vests, shields, gloves, eye pro and batons. We don't have time to activate the SOG team."
"Okay. I'll tell 'em," she said and took off.
Shit! By the time I looked back at the computer screen, it was obvious that everyone had left Dean's house. I speed dialed dispatch again and asked for Liz Harrison. I could only pray that somehow Dean maintained his presence of mind and had managed to snag his pager and take it with him.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Liz? I need you to track that radio signal. Is it moving or is it still stuck at the house?"

"One moment, sheriff," she said. I could hear the click of computer keys in the background as she furiously tried to triangulate the radio signal from Dean's pager. "It looks like the signal is still stationary, Pat." Dammit, I thought to myself. "Oh - wait a second. The signal is definitely moving, sheriff. Northbound towards downtown."
Yes! Dean had done it! "Thanks, Liz. I'll be in my vehicle and I'll need you to work this operation for me, okay?"
"Ten-four, Sheriff."
I ran out to the conference room and saw everyone, including Chris Hayes and Ben Villanueva, putting on their riot gear. There were eight of us available and I could only hope that it would be enough as we didn't have time to activate the Special Operations Group or SOG team.
"Alright, everybody, listen up. I have every reason to believe that a man has been taken by force and is going to have an illegal medical procedure performed on him against his will. I'm trying to ascertain his exact whereabouts at this time. Dispatch is tracking an emergency signal from a pager the subject was given. We won't have an exact location but it should get us close enough. Everybody head to your vehicles and I'll relay more info as we get going, okay?"
The room cleared out as everyone headed to their respective cruisers. I checked my gear quickly. Even though I was sheriff, I still wore a full duty uniform daily that included all of the same equipment as every one of my deputies. Ben Villanueva dressed the same, even though he was a Captain. No suits and ties allowed in my department.
I had my service pistol, which was a Glock 22 forty-caliber pistol. One of my first acts as Sheriff was to standardize the weaponry of the department. Under Bud Roberts and his predecessors, deputies were given an allotment of cash to purchase their own service revolvers or pistols. I had previously used everything from Berettas to Smith and Wesson. Standardizing the firearms eliminated the need to purchase various sizes and types of ammunition and made it much easier for our armorer to service the weapons. It also ensured that we maintained uniform proficiency on our weapons as a department.
I double checked the rest of my gear and then made sure all of my riot gear was in my Ford Expedition, which was my assigned vehicle as Sheriff. I turned the ignition and brought the big 5.4 liter V-8 to life and headed towards downtown Red River Falls. I looked in my rear view mirrors and saw the rest of the deputies were following in a convoy.
"Dispatch, seventeen-zero-one," I said as I keyed my hand mic.
"Seventeen-zero-one, dispatch. Go ahead," Liz came back.
"Dispatch, I need an update on that signal," I said.
"Wait one," came the reply. "Signal at this time is in the vicinity of the 1400 block of La Crescent, still appears to be moving north."
"Good copy." La Crescent Drive was the same boulevard that led to Holy Family Medical Center. Surely they wouldn't attempt to perform an illegal surgery there, would they? There had to be some other place that would be more discreet. I decided to call someone who might know. I hit the SYNC button on my dash and tapped the phone icon. "Call Shannon cell," I commanded to the computer. Within seconds I could hear the phone ringing on the speaker.
"Hey, babe," Shannon said. I could hear the smile and the love in her voice. For a split second I almost forgot what I called her for.
"I wish I had time to pillow talk, sweetheart, but I need some information. They've got Dean and they're taking him somewhere. It looks like they're headed for Holy Family but they wouldn't possibly do an illegal surgery there, would they?"
"Oh, my god, oh, my god! Are you serious?"
"Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. Do you have any idea where something like that might be done?"
"Do you know if any medical personnel are involved?" she asked.
"I only have one name. A doctor...uh...Molly, or something like that." Shit! I couldn't remember the name all of a sudden. I needed to calm the fuck down.
"Do you mean Doctor ,.n?" Shannon corrected me.
"Yes! Yes! That's the guy!"
"Doctor ,.n is a general surgeon who works mostly out of the outpatient surgical center. But that place is only open during the day and they don't do surgeries on Thursday afternoons."
Only open during the day? And no surgeries on Thursday afternoon? That had to be the place!
"That's it, honey! That's gotta be it! It's supposed to be closed, which means there won't be anyone official to come snooping around! You did it, sweetheart!"
"Oh, Patrick! I'm so scared for Dean! Will you promise to let me know how it goes?"
"I'll call you as soon as I can, sweetheart! I gotta go. We're almost there."
"Okay. Good luck! I love you!"
"I love you too, Shannon." I punched the icon to end the call.
"All units, all units, proceed to Brimmeyer Electric's building and prepare to stage in the parking lot." Brimmeyer Electric was a store that sold all manner of tools and equipment to local contractors and independent electricians. They had a large parking lot and their building would help keep us hidden from the view of the hospital. The outpatient surgical center was located a half-block northeast of the main hospital campus but was still located within the overall campus area, which consumed nearly six blocks total.
Once I had everyone gathered up, I gave them my plan. "Okay, everybody. The outpatient surgical center is supposed to be closed and empty this time of day. It presents the perfect opportunity for this illegal operation to be done in a fairly safe manner. I believe a local physician, Doctor ,.n, it cooperating with the individuals who are perpetrating this crime. The victim is a fellow county employee, Dean Strobe."
"Holy shit," Deputy Brandon Rousch exclaimed. "Doctor ,.n is the guy who fixed my hernia last year!"
"Really? Well, he's a fucking criminal," I said, eliciting a chuckle from everyone. "Ben, I need you to head over to Holy Family and see if you can meet up with Steve Nelson. He's the head of security for the hospital. See if you can gain access to video surveillance for us."
"I'm on it," Ben said as he headed for his cruiser.
"As for the rest of us, we're going to divide up into two teams. Half of you will be with Lieutenant Hayes and the others will be with Lieutenant Ryerson."
We waited in the parking lot for a few minutes when I got word from Ben Villanueva that two cars had pulled into the parking lot of the outpatient surgical center, a blue Toyota Corolla that belonged to Dean's wife and a red Nissan Pathfinder that was being driven by Brad Weston. All five subjects exited the vehicles and proceeded to the side entrance of the building. Todd and Kyle both had Dean in their grip and forced him into the building.
My cell phone buzzed. "This is Quinn."
"Pat, this is Ben. I'm here with Steve Nelson. I've got eyes on the outside of the surgical center but there is a separate security office in the building itself that monitors the internal cameras."
"Can Steve send someone over there to get eyes on for us? Preferably without being seen by Mercedes and Brad?"
"That's the problem, Pat. Steve told me that he thinks one of his security guys might already be inside the building. At least his car is in the north lot. His name is Colby Smothers and, by Steve's schedule, he's not supposed to be working today. I think we have to assume that he is an accomplice."
Shit. And if we try and approach the building they'll see us, sure as hell.
"Ben, ask Steve if there is any way possible that we can get into the building without being seen by external security cameras."
"Okay, hold on a sec." I waited about a minute while I could faintly overhear them talking. "Okay, Pat. Here's an idea. Steve says there is a narrow steam and utility tunnel that leads from the main hospital to the clinics and the surgical center.
"He says the tunnel entrance in the surgical center leads directly to the maintenance room that is actually located adjacent to the security office. If we do it quickly enough, we can get in there and occupy the security office before Colby can alert the others."
"Okay, good job, Ben. I'm gonna head over there and I'll meet Steve in the office. You and I will go with him and make entry to the surgical center. I'll have both teams standing by and ready to make entry once we have positive control."
"Okay, see you in a minute, Pat," he said as he hung up.
"Okay folks," I said, addressing the deputies. "I'm going to have you all proceed on foot over to the main hospital's security office. Angel and Chris, divide up your teams how you want them. Once I'm inside the surgical center, I'll designate your avenues of approach. In the meantime, contact dispatch and have all available Red River Falls security officer units establish a perimeter around the area. Just tell them we have a situation in progress and we'll advise them when we can. And have dispatch send an ambulance from the fire department as well, in case we need them."
I proceeded across the street and jogged to the hospital's main entrance and rushed towards the security office, which was located near the Emergency Department. I met Ben and Steve Nelson and we proceeded to the physical plant and entered the steam tunnel.
The tunnel was barely wide enough for one person. Running along the left side of the tunnel were high pressure steam pipes and all manner of electrical conduit containing electrical wires and computer and communication lines. It would be a bad place to get caught in a fire or flood, that's for sure.
It took us about four minutes to move from the physical plant and enter underneath the surgical center. There was a ladder that led from the steam tunnel to the utility room above. It was only about one story in height.
"Okay, Pat and Ben," Steve said. "As you go up the ladder, you'll enter into the utility room, which is where the HVAC system and main utility panels are located. You'll see the main door. Exit and go left and proceed about 10 feet. The security office will literally be the first door on the left hand side. Hopefully, Colby hasn't barricaded himself in there."
"Thanks so much for the help, Steve," I said as I began my climb. "We'll call you up as soon as everything is clear."
I got to the top of the ladder, followed shortly by Ben. We approached the door to the utility room and both drew our sidearms. I proceeded to slowly open the door and peek out into the hallway. I saw nothing but I could hear a single voice coming from the direction of the security office to my left. I entered the hallway, turned left and hugged the wall as Ben slowly and carefully closed the door to the utility room without making a sound.
I gave a signal and we proceeded with guns drawn to the security office. Sure enough, there was Colby Smothers sitting in a chair with his back turned to us and talking loudly on his cell phone. I quickly whisked him around in his chair to face me and immediately grabbed the phone out of his hand and ended his call with my thumb while keeping the barrel of my .40 cal Glock pointed directly at his nose.
"Don't even think about making a sound, understand?"
Colby just nodded his head with a shocked and pale expression on his face, probably wondering how in the hell we had gotten into the building without him knowing.
"Ben, go and get Steven Nelson and bring him up. Colby, I know you're not supposed to be working today which means only one thing - you're helping out with an extremely illegal activity. I need you to tell me how many people are here and what room they are all in, okay?"
Colby just nodded his head. "There's five people that just came in about fifteen minutes ago."
"How many surgical people are here?"
"Um, six, I think."
"I need you to be sure, Colby."
"There's six. Definitely six. The doc, the anesthetist, a nurse and three surgical techs."
"Where?"
"Surgical suite five," he said, trembling.
Steve and Ben entered the office.
"Jesus, Colby," Steve said, pissed. "Do you have any idea what in the hell you got yourself involved with?"
"Doctor ,.n asked me to be here today. He said he'd pay me triple overtime to help out with an emergency case. He said all I had to do was just keep the building secure while they were doing the operation." He was nearly hyperventilating.
"And nothing tripped any warning bells that his might not be legit? It didn't strike you odd that a doctor was going to pay you directly instead of the hospital?"
Colby just looked away in panic and shame.
"Let's worry about that later, Steve. Colby, show me where everyone is at and what they're doing."
Colby showed me the various camera screens. In the largest screen, there were five people in the surgical room making all necessary preparations. In another room, I could see Brad, Mercedes, Todd and Kyle all forcing Dean out of his clothes and into a surgical gown. His clothes were in a pile on the floor and it didn't appear anyone had found his pager yet.
"Hayes from Quinn," I said into my radio mic.
"Quinn, Hayes. Go ahead," he replied.
"Chris, go ahead and proceed with both teams to the main entrance of the building. Someone will be there to let you in."
"Good copy. Moving."
I returned my attention to the video screens. It appeared that Doctor ,.n had entered the room where Dean and the others were.
"There," I said, pointing at the screen. "Focus in on that camera and bring up the audio so I can hear."
Steve Nelson sat down at the chair while Ben Villanueva proceeded to cuff Colby. The individual camera feeds were all assembled on one large flat screen TV on the left side of the console. The security officer could bring up any camera he wanted to onto a large flat screen on the right side of the console to get a better view. Steve Nelson also brought up the audio as Doctor ,.n spoke to Mercedes and Brad.
"Just to head off any last minute jitters, you two, I'm going to ask you both one last time. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Doctor ,.n asked.
"Absolutely," Mercedes sad as Brad nodded. "This has been a fantasy of ours for a long time. I can't thank you enough, Doctor ,.n, for helping our dream come true. This is so exciting!"
"I can tell you both are stoked about this. I want to reiterate that I have written extensive documentation that makes this whole situation look like a necessary operation for testicular cancer. If anyone from the hospital looks, they will see what looks like months' worth of painstaking documentation and medical dictation that necessitates the procedure."
"We appreciate everything," Mercedes assured him. "We all know exactly what to say and what to do from here on out. And Dean loves me so much and thinks I love him so much in return that I can promise you'll have his full cooperation, too. Besides, he won't want to risk the humiliation of people outright knowing that he has been castrated."
"A real man wouldn't, either," the doctor agreed. "Maybe there is some tiny shred of manhood left in Dean after all."
"There better not be," Mercedes warned. "This operation better make him the dominated, subservient cuck that we want him to be. He damned well better know his place in the world after this is all over with."
"I think I may have an idea of how you can completely and totally accomplish the absolute domination over Dean that you truly desire," Doctor ,.n suggested.
"How's that?" Brad asked.
"What if I were to tell you I could make it so that Dean would feel every last sensation of the procedure as he was going through it? What would you think if I told you that he would literally feel the excruciating sensation of every slice of the scalpel and the unimaginable pain of having his testicles removed but that he would be powerless to do anything about it?"
"Jesus," Brad said, sounding genuinely spooked. "I don't know about that. I mean, there was a reason why we wanted this done professional-like, ya know?"
Mercedes wasn't fazed in the least bit. "Tell me more," she ordered.
"Well, anesthesia is a combination of several things, really," Doctor ,.n explained. "One drug causes the patient to fall asleep. Another drug paralyses the body and additional drugs relieve pain and cause amnesia. I could order my anesthetist to give only the drugs that would cause him to fall asleep and paralyze him. He would essentially be asleep by he would also have full sense of touch throughout his body and feel the procedure.
He wouldn't really remember for sure what happened to him while he was under, but I guarantee you he will be completely traumatized from the experience. He'll be so scared and in pain that he will literally come crying to you for support. You'll have Dean eating out of your hand the rest of your life. He will do whatever he needs to in order to feel safe, which means he will do whatever you want him to for the rest of your life!"
"Jesus Christ," I whispered as I listened to their psychotic plot to torture Dean.
"Do I understand this correctly, Sheriff?" Steve asked. "These people are planning an illegal surgical procedure to castrate her husband?"
"That's exactly what's happening, Steve."
"Oh, sweet Mary, Mother of God..." He looked behind him where Colby Smothers was cuffed and cowering in the corner. "Colby, you are sooooo fired for this!"
My radio crackled. "Sheriff, this is Hayes. We're at the front entrance."
"Copy," I replied. "Ben? Can you let those guys in?"
"Got it," he said. He returned shortly with all of the Deputies and two firefighter/paramedics from the Red River Falls Fire Department that I had requested in case they were needed.
Steve and I listened to the audio from the video screen as Mercedes confirmed for Doctor ,.n that she was only too happy to allow him to "enhance" the procedure for Dean and make it that much more memorable for everyone. I've seen a lot in over 15 years of law enforcement. But until today I had never really seen evil face-to-face. Mercedes Strobe, as gorgeous and striking as she was physically, was also the embodiment of the Devil himself. Who knew something so beautiful could be so cruel?
Chris Hayes, Angel Ryerson and the rest of the deputies had congregated in the small security space. It was obvious from watching everyone on the screen that they believed Colby had the building secure. We waited for about 15 more minutes as the surgical team continued preparing the room. Soon, Dean arrived in the surgical room wearing only a pair of white underwear briefs and being escorted by Brad, Mercedes, Todd and Kyle who were all wearing complete surgical scrubs.
They forced Dean to lie down on the surgical table and his arms were strapped down by heavy Velcro straps, which Doctor ,.n said were to prevent Dean from thrashing about if the anesthesia were to suddenly wear off for some reason. In short, he explained, strapping him down to the table to actually to protect Dean during the procedure. He said this while giving a knowing smirk to Mercedes and Brad.
The anesthetist placed a mask over Dean's face and she started counting backwards from ten. By the time she got to 5, it was apparent that Dean was already asleep.
"Okay, everyone! Medics, you two stay here for now. Chris, you take your team down the left side of the hallway and Angel, you take your team down the right side. Ben, you have command of the assault. Get back there and form two stacks on either side of the door to surgical room 5. Stand by for my order to breach and then execute once I give it!"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The two teams of Deputies quickly moved down the hallway and through the double doors that led from the office and business areas of the surgical center and towards the operating rooms themselves. I returned my attention to the main screen.

"Alright, everyone. Let's proceed," Doctor ,.n ordered.
"Wait a minute!" the anesthetist shouted. "I haven't finished administering all of my meds yet. I still have to give him the Versed and Rocuronium and hang the Propofol drip. I still have to titrate him to the Propofol to make sure he tolerates it."
"Don't worry about all of that."
"But Doctor! If I don't, the patient will feel everything you're doing to him!"
"That's none of your business, Florence. He's had medical gas and succinylcholine. Years ago, ether was all they gave for anesthesia. The patient will be just fine."
"Doctor! My God! You can't make me do this!"
"Dammit, Florence! You will do what I tell you to do! Now get ready, everyone. We're starting the procedure. Nurse Kimmel, finish shaving him and bathe and sterilize the surgical site with povidone."
The surgical nurse stood there, looking back and forth between Doctor ,.n and the anesthetist.
"Angie!" Doctor ,.n snapped. "Did you hear what I said?"
She jumped and said, "Yes, doctor." She took a large forceps and grabbed a large wad of gauze sponges and dipped them into a bowl of povidone, which was similar to iodine, and began swabbing Dean's now exposed genitals in preparation for the surgery.
This was as far as I was willing to let it go. Just as Doctor ,.n reached to his right and grabbed a large scalpel, I punched the button on my lapel microphone and shouted "All personnel! Go for breach! Now! Now! Now!"
Blessedly, the door to the surgical room was never locked. Chris, Angel and their two teams immediately burst in with guns drawn and flooded the surgical room with Chris's team securing the left sector and Angel's team securing the right.
"MASON COUNTY SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT!" Ben Villanueva screamed. "GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW WITH YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!!"
All of the females in the room started screaming. Florence, the nurse anesthetist, just screamed "No! No! No! Oh, my God! No!" She just continued to stand there freaking out and was too petrified to get down on the floor like she was told.
"What the hell is the meaning of this?!!" Doctor ,.n demanded. "You are interrupting an urgent and delicate procedure!! I demand you leave immediately!!"
Florence continued to scream and freak out. "My patient! My patient! He's unconscious and can't breathe on his own! I have to help him!"
Ben Villanueva keyed his mic and shouted, "Pat! We need medics up front! Now!"
I turned to the two RRFFD medics and shouted, "Go! Now!" The two medics, one male and one female, both sprinted down the hallway towards the surgical suites. They had seen the path taken by the assault team and headed the same way.
"Medics on the way, Ben!"
"Copy!"
"The medics are on the way, ma'am! Step back from the patient!" Ben ordered.
"But he's not breathing!" she pleaded.
Ben hesitated for a moment. "Okay," he said. "Do what you need to help him. Keep your hands where I can see them. Danny? Give her a hand."
Deputy Sergeant Danny Larson holstered his weapon and proceeded to see what he could do to help the nurse anesthetist. Just then, both paramedics arrived in the room. The extra commotion, combined with Danny moving in to help, provided just enough of a distraction. Brad Weston leaped to his feet and sprinted through a door to an adjoining surgical room, then through another door and into the hallway.
Brad took off running with Ben in full pursuit. "We got one running, Pat!" Two other deputies drew down hard on Todd and Kyle to make sure they stayed on the floor.
Shit! I watched Brad turn to his right down another hallway and into a room that was the doctors' lounge. The door locked from the inside and Ben couldn't gain access to it. I watched as Brad bolted to another door that was kitty-corner to the one he just entered through and I moaned as I realized it was a door that exited the building.
"He's outside, Ben! I'm pursuing on foot," I said into my mic. I dashed out the front door of the building and immediately cut to the right and around the corner of the building. I could see Brad about 80 yards ahead of me as he was sprinting across the parking lot. He was headed towards a residential area on the north side of the hospital.
I made good time crossing the parking lot and kept pace with Brad, even though I wasn't really closing it. I reminded myself that all I had to do was follow Brad. Brad was the one who had to decide where he was going. Eventually, he would hesitate at the wrong time and I would eventually catch him. Lucky for me, he wasn't even looking back to see who was following him.
Brad was still in a full sprint heading down Adams Avenue. He ran straight for about three blocks before cutting left onto 4th Street Northwest. He was getting deeper and deeper into an older and established neighborhood. The homes here were fairly old, stately and close together. Brad ran for a block and a half before cutting north again through an alley between Jefferson and Madison Avenues.
Brad stopped running, obviously thinking he had outrun any pursuit. He was walking with his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. As I rounded the corner and headed towards him, he was only about 20 yards in front of me. The sound of my equipment on my utility belt gave me away. Brad immediately whisked around, saw me and yelled, "Aw, fuck!"
He headed in a dead sprint again and crossed 5th street, still staying in the alley. We ran steady, with me gaining on him slightly. We crossed 6th street and then 7th street. Halfway between 7th and 8th street, Brad cut left into what he probably though was another alley between Jefferson and Madison. He was wrong. It was a utility right-of-way only and the path was bordered almost exclusively by six-foot privacy fences. The path dead ended to another privacy fence wall from a house on Madison Avenue.
The fence was made from PVC. When Brad tried to scale it he couldn't get any traction with his feet due to the shoe coverings he was still wearing from the surgical center. He made one attempt and clumsily fell to the ground at the base of the wall. When he got back up for another attempt, he looked behind him and found himself staring down the barrel of my Glock. Smartly, he slowly rose with both hands in the air, completely out of breath.
"Brad Weston," I panted, trying to catch my own wind. "you're under arrest. You have...(pant)...the right to remain...silent. If you give up the right...to remain silent...anything you say can... and will be used against you...in a court of law. You have a right...to an attorney. If you cannot afford...an attorney...one will be provided...for you. Do you...understand these rights...as I have read them...to you?"
Brad just stood there, gasping for air, and nodding his head yes. For some reason, I just stood there, pointing my weapon at Brad. For a few fleeting moments, a powerful wave of emotion washed over me and I was only moments away from shooting him. Brad could obviously sense it, too. Perhaps he saw my eyes narrow or some other telltale sign that I really wanted to put a double tap in his forehead.
"Look, sheriff," he said, hesitantly. "You got me, okay? I'm not running, okay? I'm not resisting. You have no reason to use deadly force, okay?"
"You were going to mutilate my friend today," I said tersely.
Brad swallowed hard. "Look...this whole thing...was Mercedes' idea, okay? All of it, Sheriff. I mean, I know I helped some, too. But this whole thing was her fucked up, crazy idea, okay?"
Now my eyes narrowed and I sighted in my big Glock on Brad's forehead, bringing my right index finger to rest in the trigger well and thumbed off the safety.
Now Brad really panicked. "Jesus, Sheriff! It wasn't my idea! Okay? Dean Strobe is just a fucking wimp, pussy, cuckold husband! He isn't worth killing me over, okay? I admit, we were gonna cut his nuts off! But that isn't the same as killing a guy, okay? I'll tell you what you wanna know, for Christ's sake! Sheriff! Are you fucking listening to me?"
I stared Brad down for about another twenty seconds, just about to the point where I thought I saw tears forming in his eyes. I brought my Glock down from a shooter's stance, flipped the safety back on and returned the weapon to my holster.
Brad let out a sigh of desperation and leaned back against the privacy fence in relief. "I knew you'd see reason, Sheriff," he said, smirking. "The little cuck pussy isn't worth killing anybody over."
In a flash, I drew out my X26 taser with my left hand and drew down on Brad. A look of horror flashed over his face the instant I pulled the trigger and fired the two metal barbs directly into Brad's gut just above his navel.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!" he screamed. Damn! I never knew that a human male could make a noise like that.
The X26 delivered a five-second burst of 50,000 volts into Brad's gut, completely disrupting every neuromuscular pathway in his body and reducing him to a steaming pile of dog shit.
"That first burst, Brad, was for Dean Strobe," I said, tauntingly. Brad just lay there moaning. "This next burst, however, is for fucking my ex-wife!" I pulled the trigger again and delivered another five-second burst of electricity, eliciting the same ear-piercing and blood-curdling man-shriek as the first one.
"Stop resisting!" I shouted, while chuckling. "Stop resisting!" I couldn't help myself. Once my inner bastard gets let off the chain, it is hard to get him back on the leash.
"Oooooooh, fuuuuuuuck," Brad moaned. There were two little blood spots forming on his abdomen from where the barbs entered. "Jeeeeezuz, Sheriff. You...didn't have...to do that...asshole!"
"Oh, yes, I did, Brad," I said closing in on him. "That was to send a message that there is a price to be paid for fucking with my friends and family. It was also a message that you had better stay the fuck away from my fiancée, Shannon. Do you hear me you son of a bitch?" I grabbed him by hair and looked him right in the eyes. "If you go ANYWHERE near Shannon, I will make it my mission in life to bury you! Understand? My...mission...in...life!! I will bury you with a shovel and then bury the shovel!!"
Brad gulped and nodded. I rolled him on his side, being careful of the taser barbs still stuck in his abdomen. I cuffed his hands behind his back and stood him up. As I did so, I got an overwhelming smell of bowel and the front of his scrub pants was wet. Brad had shit and pissed himself during the second blast of the taser.
"Jesus, Brad! You absolutely reek!" He was still pretty wobbly once he was on his feet again and a large piece of turd dropped out the bottom of his pant leg and onto the ground. I narrowly avoided stepping in it. As a further act of humiliation, I slipped my right hand underneath Brad's left arm and placed it on the back of his neck, pushing him over into a hunched position and proceeded to "duck walk" him the entire nine blocks back to the surgical center. No way was I going to call for a cruiser to pick him up, just to get Brad's shit and piss all over the inside of one of my vehicles.
It took fifteen minutes to get back to the surgical center. People had come out of their homes, slowed down in their cars or stopped walking long enough to watch me march Brad back to where we started. Needless to say, he was pretty pissed and humiliated.
"Holy shit! There you are, Pat," Ben said, greeting me. He immediately made a face as he caught a whiff of Brad's new scent.
"How's Dean?"
"He's doing okay. The paramedics are still with him and were able to bring him out of the anesthesia okay. He seems like he's going to be fine. Scared and shaken, of course. But physically okay."
"Good. When they're done with Dean, have one of the paramedics meet up with me to get my taser barbs removed from Brad's stomach."
"Okay, will do."
"Where is everybody else?"
"We've got them in custody and holed up in one of the waiting rooms. The county attorney and one of his prosecutors are on their way over right now. The surgical room is secure and the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation is on their way here right now to begin processing the entire building."
"Excellent, Ben. Good work. Let's get Brad lumped in with the others. I got a feeling they're going to enjoy his company."
"Looks like you had a live one there, Pat!" Ben chuckled.
"Bullshit!" Dean protested. "I never fucking resisted. And you didn't have to tase me, asshole!"
"That's what happens when you resist arrest, Brad. Don't worry, though. That's a fairly minor charge and I'm pretty sure the county attorney will drop it once he gets done convicting you of all the other charges you face. But, then again, maybe he will add it on there just for a little sugar on top."
Ben led us to the waiting room where Mercedes, Todd, Kyle, Doctor ,.n, the anesthetist and the rest of the surgical team were all waiting. I led Brad into the room and let him crumple into a ball on the floor at Mercedes' feet. At the same time, the rest of the room got a nose full of Brad's aroma and were all visibly uncomfortable. One of the surgical technicians started gagging and asked for a trash can where she promptly ridded herself of her day's lunch.
"Oh, my God!" one said.
"That's awful!" said another.
"Jesus Christ! You smell like shit!"
"That's because he defecated in his pants," I explained.
"That's because you fucking tased me a million times!" Brad protested.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to step out for a minute to converse and hobnob a little bit with my fellow Deputies and the County Attorney." All of them looked horrified at being forced to stay in the room with an incredibly offensive Brad Weston. But there was little they could do about it as they were all handcuffed and had their ankles cuffed, as well.
Outside, I was met by Marion Lawson just as he arrived with Jillian Hackensack, one of his prosecutors.
"You wanna tell me what the hell went down here, Pat?" Marion asked.
I gave Marion the Cliff Notes version of the events. He was incredulous through the initial explanation until I got to the point where I reminded him that we had hours of video and audio collected from Dean's own house plus the audio and video collected from the surgical center itself.
Marion shook his head as he listened to what he knew would be a major case of assault and kidnapping but also he knew that the charges wouldn't stop there. It was a monumental case and one that was almost certainly going to produce national headlines across the country when word of the enormity of the case finally got out.
"How in the hell is it that you seem to be such a shit magnet, Quinn?"
"I guess I just have a magnetic personality, Marion. By the way, I'm still available any time to take Peggy Jean up on her dinner invite."
"You'll be waiting a long fucking time for that, Quinn."
"I'm Irish, ya know. Does Peggy Jean make a decent corned beef?"
"Peggy Jean makes a lot of things decent but she doesn't make them for you. Can we get back to the case now?" God, I loved needling him. Marion Lawson's wife gave me an invite to dinner quite some time ago and I enjoy pissing off Marion by reminding him about it, especially because Marion is a total bastard to his love-starved wife.
"The case is pretty well set, Marion. About all you and your staff have to do is watch and listen to the recordings and interview the suspects. Shouldn't be too difficult to get one or two of them to roll on the others."
"Do you know for a fact that everyone in there is even involved, Pat?"
"I know for sure that Mercedes Strobe, Brad Weston, Todd Andrews, Kyle Webber and Doctor Chet ,.n are all involved. What we heard on the audio and video feed would suggest that the nurse anesthetist is either involved or perhaps coerced into it. Possibly even the surgical nurse. Looks like the surgical room technicians were brought in just for the help."
"Okay. Have you told any of them what they're being charged with yet?"
"Not really. When I arrested Brad Weston I told him that he would be charged for sure with assault and kidnapping. That's as far as I got."
"Okay. I'll know more about what they're going to be facing after I have a chance to look at everything. Bring everything by my office first thing tomorrow. I assume you'll be here for a while yet?"
"Yes. The guys from BCI will be here in about 45 minutes. The place is on lockdown for now and Dean Strobe's house is officially a crime scene now, as well."
"Fine. You handle it from here, Quinn. I'll see you first thing in the morning."
Marion and his attaché left and I decided to pay a little visit to the people in the waiting room. I was for sure going to boot the three surgical techs and probably the surgical nurse. I retrieved a surgical mask and spread a dab of Vick's Vapo-Rub across my upper lip before I went into the waiting room.
"Hello again, everybody!" I did my best to sound pleasant and chipper, despite the fact that the surgical mask hid most of my face. I pulled up a chair, turned it around and sat down in it backwards and leaned against the back rest as I looked at everyone.
"Okay. You, you and you," I said, pointing to the three surgical techs, "are all free to go right now. Seriously. You're all free to leave. You're not being charged with anything." The three techs looked at each other and a wave of relief cascaded over their faces. "Come on over here and I'll unlock your cuffs."
The three techs eagerly waddled over to me and I unlocked their handcuffs and ankle cuffs and they all made a very hasty exit from the waiting room. Part of it was probably from the relief of facing arrest but most of it was probably to get away from the smell of Brad Weston's shit.
"Angie Kimmel?"
"Yes, that's me," the surgical nurse said.
"How did you get assigned to this surgery today?"
"Doctor ,.n called me at 3:00 this afternoon and told me he had an emergency procedure. I'm the surgical nurse on call today. That's all I know, Sheriff. I swear."
"Okay. That's all I needed to hear. Come on over here and I'll uncuff you, too."
Once she was gone I sat there and stared at Doctor ,.n, Mercedes, Brad, Todd, Kyle and Florence Jackson, the nurse anesthetist. One by one I pointed at each of them and said, "You're going to jail, you're going to jail, you're going to jail, you're going to jail, you're going to jail and YOU, Doctor ,.n, are DEFINITELY going to jail!"
"I'm not going anywhere until I've spoken to my attorney, Sheriff Quinn. I'm going to personally frame your badge on my office wall when I'm done with you, do you hear me? All you've done today is put a man's health in jeopardy. I've got plenty of medical documentation attesting to Mr. Strobe's medical condition."
"Yeah, I know. I heard you talking about that on the security camera when you were chatting with Mercedes and Brad." THAT seemed to get the good doctor's attention.
"I want to see my husband!" Mercedes demanded.
"Absolutely not," I replied.
"You can't keep me from away from my husband!"
"Actually, under state law, I absolutely do have the right to initiate an order of protection for your husband if I feel there is an immediate threat to his health and safety."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I'm NOT a threat to my husband! I wanna see him NOW!"

"Mercedes, you and your accomplices just tried to initiate a surgery to castrate your husband against his will. I call that a huge threat to his health and safety."
"You don't know anything, Sheriff! You don't know anything about Dean and me! You think this was all a set up! You think this was some big crime, but it wasn't! You don't understand that this is what Dean wanted! He wanted to do something to make me happy! He was doing this for us! And besides, I don't want to go to jail! I can't go to jail!"
"Well, if it makes you feel better, Mercedes, you probably won't go to jail as long as the others. Women, on average tend to get more leniency in sentencing than men do. It's kind of a trade-off for getting screwed on that whole equal-work-for-equal-pay thing."
"Sheriff, I demand to see my husband now! He'll explain everything!"
"Mercedes, shut the hell up!" Doctor ,.n barked. "All of you! Keep your damned mouths shut! My lawyer will handle everything when he gets here! Just shut up for now!"
"Doctor ,.n is right," Brad added. "Just remember what we talked about before, okay?"
"But I wanna see my husband! I demand to see my husband!"
"Mercedes, shut the fuck up!"
"You shut up, Mister Poopy Pants! Sheriff, I want to see my husband now!"
"I already told you that's not going to happen right now."
"And I already told all of you to shut your damned mouths! My lawyer will handle this for ALL of us! Now just shut the hell up!" the doctor interjected.
I looked over at the nurse anesthetist, Florence Jackson. "Miss Jackson, you look like you want to say something." She looked at me with a pained expression on her face and ever so slightly shook her head.
"Shut up Florence," ,.n warned. "Like I said, I've got this handled. My lawyer will be representing all of us. Nothing that is said in Quinn's presence can be used against us. Now will all of you just shut your damned mouths? Please!"
I got up and sat down next to Florence. "Miss Jackson, if you have something to say, I highly suggest you say it. Otherwise, you're going to get lumped in with everyone else and that will mean conspiracy charges added to the rest of the laundry list of charges you will all be facing." Florence burst into tears.
"Listen to me, Florence," ,.n warned. "I already told you I've got this handled. Just keep your damned...mouth...shut!"
"Miss Jackson?" I said, as soothing as I could. "You are free to talk to me if you want to. The sooner you talk to me the better. It is always going to be better for you to cooperate with me than work against me, okay?"
"I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT, I SWEAR!" Florence burst into frantic tears. "Doctor ,.n forced me to, Sheriff! I botched a surgery eighteen months ago! I used an expired bottle of Propofol by accident! It was ineffective and my patient had an adverse reaction to it and went into cardiac arrest! She died on the operating table!"
"You stupid bitch!! I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut!!"
"It's okay, Florence," I encouraged. "How did he cover for you?"
"I don't know, I don't know! He has something on one of the pathologists and got him to officially list the cause of death as a heart attack that occurred during surgery! Doctor ,.n has been holding it over my head ever since! He forced me to help him today or he said he would expose me and get my licensed revoked! I've got a son and daughter in high college and I'm raising my own grandchild, too! I can't go to jail! Sheriff, please!"
"It's okay, it's okay. Come on, let's get out of here," I said, helping Florence to her feet and helping her hobble out of the waiting room.
"I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS, YOU STUPID BITCH," Doctor ,.n screamed. "IF IT IS THE LAST THING I EVER DO! IF I GO DOWN, I'M TAKING YOU WITH ME YOU STUPID, WORTHLESS, FUCKING CUNT!!"
"SHERIFF, I WANNA SEE MY HUSBAND!!"
I let the door close behind Florence and I as I uncuffed her and handed her off to Ben Villanueva to have a sworn statement taken. All hell broke loose in the waiting room as Doctor ,.n, Mercedes, Brad, Todd and Kyle all began yelling and accusing one another. Yep. It was the very definition of the criminal domino effect in action. In an odd sort of way, it was music to my ears!
**********
EPILOGUE
I felt bad for Dean Strobe. As was expected, word got out of the entire situation and it became newspaper, television and tabloid fodder all over the country. It even made its way into some of the jokes for the late night shows, also. You can probably imagine some of the headlines.
BATTLE FOR THE FAMILY JEWELS IN RED RIVER FALLS
WOMAN GOES "NUTS" FOR HER HUSBAND'S
ONE MAN'S JUNK WAS ANOTHER WOMAN'S TREASURE
And the list goes on and on, one bad joke after another.
If Mercedes Strobe had her way, she would have fought it all the way to trial. Doctor ,.n's own attorney had one interview with Mercedes and promptly pronounced her as "nuttier than a fucking squirrel turd". His exact words. He even wrote it down so people wouldn't forget. Fortunately for her, Mercedes ended up with a halfway decent public defender who eventually convinced her to plead out.
Mercedes pled guilty to one count of aggravated assault with intent to commit serious bodily harm. She also pled guilty to conspiracy to commit aggravated assault with intent. Her charges of kidnapping were downgraded to unlawful restraint, which was as big of a gift to a defendant as I had ever seen Marion Lawson give anyone. At the end of it all, Mercedes was sentenced to 15 to 20 years in prison, which meant that she would be spending a bare minimum of seven years behind bars.
At Dean's request, Mercedes' parental rights were terminated.
Brad Weston went to bat and went down swinging. He was convicted of kidnapping, unlawful restraint (for securing Dean to the operating table against his will), aggravated assault with intent to commit serious bodily harm and conspiracy to commit aggravated assault. Brad Weston was sentenced to 25 years in prison. With his good looks, there was no doubt in my mind that he would become prison's perennial homecoming queen.
Todd Andrews and Kyle Webber both rolled over on Brad and Mercedes in a heartbeat. They were initially facing the same charges as Brad and Mercedes but had them downgraded in exchange for a plea bargain. They both pled guilty to unlawful restraint and conspiracy to commit aggravated assault with intent. Both men were sentenced to 7 to 10 years in prison. As an added incentive, the judge allowed them to be sent to the same prison and even arranged for them to share a cell. Cute, huh?
Florence Jackson gave sworn testimony on behalf of the prosecution. Her involvement launched a massive investigation that resulted in some very unflattering press for Holy Family Medical Center and led to the resignation and loss of medical license for the chief of pathology, Doctor Seth Dickinson. It was a wonder that he didn't face any criminal charges. Marion Lawson can take the blame for that. He failed to properly acquire the necessary medical records that would have surely led to a conviction for Dr. Dickinson and the records were inadmissible. Usually I'm the only one who can piss off Marion like that but it was his own fault.
Florence Jackson's license as a Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist was placed on probation for two years, during which time she would have to undergo a considerable number of hours of refresher training to ensure that such a mistake didn't happen again. Many of her colleagues were outraged that she was even able to keep her license. She quietly resigned from Holy Family Medical Center and took a position as a roving anesthetist serving numerous community hospitals in rural Northern Minnesota near the Iron Range.
Doctor Chesterton "Chet" ,.n climbed to the top of the mast and rode the ship all the way to the bottom of the ocean. He had no intentions of making a plea deal despite his lawyer all but begging him to. ,.n was found guilty on all counts of aggravated assault with intent to commit serious bodily harm, conspiracy to commit aggravated assault and unlawful restraint.
As an added bonus, since the illegal operation on Dean Strobe involved his genitalia, ,.n was also charged with and found guilty of felony sexual battery and indecent assault, which ensured that he would spend the rest of his life on the sex offender registry list. It was just a little salt to throw in the wound. Needless to say, Doctor ,.n would never be allowed to practice medicine again.
Dean Strobe stayed on in his position for about another three months, just long enough for Mercedes to get sentenced. I knew in my heart that Dean wouldn't stay in the area. How could he? It was wrong, but he would always carry the stigma of what his wife tried to do to him. People and places, the names and the faces - they would always remind him of the life he used to know and trigger him daily.
And so Dean made the tough decision to pack up his kids and head west for new opportunities. As a condition of Mercedes' plea deal, Dean had been granted an uncontested divorce. He sold or gave away nearly all of his worldly possessions, keeping only the pictures and mementos that were special to the kids. He wanted nothing to remind him of his life with Mercedes. Or Brad, for that matter.
I went and saw Dean the day they were getting ready to leave. Dean had his Subaru Outback all packed and ready to go, needing only a small towable U-Haul trailer to take his household goods with him.
"Looks like you're all packed and ready to go," I said as I walked up to the front yard.
"Pat! My gosh! What a surprise!" Dean and I shook firmly. It was amazing to see the change in his demeanor and personality. He was definitely more outgoing, personable and confident, although the emotional scars were there if you looked deep enough.
"I just wanted to come out personally and say goodbye and to thank you for all your hard work for us, Dean."
"Psssh. I'm the one who should be thanking you, Pat. I wouldn't be doing this right now if it wasn't for you. And I mean that in a good way."
"I know you do, Dean. I'm just glad that everything turned out for the best."
"Me too, me too."
"How are the kids doing, Dean?"
"They're doing as well as they can be, Pat. I mean, I can only imagine how they're feeling. They're adjusting day by day. Their mother traumatized them, too. I think they feel more anger towards her and not just missing having her around. Even when she was here she was so focused on Brad and what he wanted than she was on the kids or me."
"I understand. Have you thought about getting them any counseling?"
"Oh, absolutely. That was priority number one. We've already had a chance to meet her and she seems awesome. Both Brandon and Brynne really took to her from the get go. I see good things happening there and look forward to them getting back to some semblance of their old selves."
"That sounds great. Gosh, I don't even know where you guys are moving to."
"We're moving to Boulder, Colorado."
"Wow! I bet the scenery is amazing."
"It is, Pat. We're going to start off renting a three bedroom condo. Our front deck faces the west and we have an absolutely AMAZING view of the Rockies."
"I'm jealous already! What are you going to be doing out there?"
Dean chuckled. "Well, Pat you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me," I dared.
"I'm going to be doing IT for a company called Rocky Mountain Herbaceuticals."
"What exactly do they do?"
"They grow and own a recreational marijuana dispensary."
"You gotta be shitting me! Oh, my God! That's awesome!"
"They've had 400% growth since they started and they're looking to expand. If you're interested, they're looking for a chief of security, Pat. I could put in a good word for you!"
"I'm pretty comfortable where I'm at, Dean," I chuckled. "But in all seriousness, I truly hope this new start works out well for you and your family. You all deserve it in the best way possible."
"Thanks, Pat. That means a lot. I'll never forget what you did for me."
"I just did my job, Dean."
"You and I know it was much more than that. Take care, Pat. Come see us out there some time when we get settled in a permanent place."
"I'll do that, Dean." We shook hands, held it, and then brought it in for a fond embrace. Dean was more than just a co-worker. He was a friend. And I was going to miss my friend.
*****
My relationship with Clarissa, which seemed to have been thawing and working its way towards something resembling a friendship, definitely entered a new ice age again after I found about her and Brad Weston. I did my very best not to bring it up and start an all-out war again but I didn't exactly hide the fact that my platonic feelings towards her had cooled mightily.
It all came to a head one afternoon that summer when I picked up Nick and Jake from Clarissa's place after the boys had spent a week with Clarissa, Caroline and Martin at their lake house near Osakis, Minnesota. My interactions with her had become increasingly short and curt. I said nothing offensive but was not overtly friendly, either.
"Boys, can you do me a favor and wait in your Dad's truck while he and I talk for a few moments?" Nick and Jake exchanged a 'here-we-go-again' look and did as they were asked. "Patrick, is there something bothering you? You seem awfully short and curt with me the last few weeks. I thought we were heading in a more positive direction but I can't help but feel like things are taking a step back lately."
"Things are fine. I'm fine. The boys are fine. We're all fine. Everybody's fine."
"Patrick, what's gotten into you? Why are you so short and snippy with me?"
"What makes you think I'm short and snippy?"
"Well, for starters, how about the fact that you answer my questions with a snarky question?"
I said nothing in return.
"Come on, Patrick. We have to co-parent our kids, okay? It is important for them that you and I make an attempt to get along. I'm making the attempt. Why can't you?"
I looked away, shaking my head. "I really don't think you want to get into this, Clarissa. I think it's important that we just let things be as they are. Let's face it, this is the dynamic we have. Nothing is going to change that."
"Patrick, for God's sake! The last few months have been great! We've been talking and communicating more than we did in the last months of our marriage. I thought we were becoming friends again."
"I thought so too, Clarissa. And then, every once in a while, some new tidbit of information about you rears its ugly head and I end up going back to that place where I was the clueless, cuckolded husband who was too much of an idiot to realize that his loving wife was cheating on him with multiple men!"
"Oh, my God, Patrick! What the hell is bringing this all on? I've already apologized to you for Bud and Marion! Why can't you work past that?"
"I have. I worked past Bud Roberts and Marion Lawson. What I haven't worked past yet is Brad-fucking-Weston!"
Clarissa gasped and tears of shame immediately started streaking down her face. "Oh, Patrick! What did you hear?"
"I heard that you were not only cheating on me with Bud Roberts and Marion Lawson, but that you were cheating on Bud Roberts with Brad Weston. Does that sound about right?"
"Who did you hear that from, Patrick?"
"What does it matter now? It's just one more piece in the puzzle. I just wonder how many more 'revelations' are going to come my way. How many more men did you fuck while we were married that I don't know about? How many more assholes out there are laughing at me behind my back?"
Clarissa was sobbing now. "Please, Patrick. Let me explain. I beg you."
"What is there to explain? That there is a very real possibility that I could be hit every once in a while with news that there is yet another guy out there that my wife fucked while we were married? Huh? How the hell do you think that makes me feel? How do you think that would make our kids feel if they had to hear about it?"
"Oh, God, Patrick! I am so sorry!"
"Well, I'm sorry, too, Clarissa. But sorry just doesn't fucking cut it anymore. My God! It is amazing that I can stare at your face and have absolutely no recollection of you being the same woman I married all those years ago."
"Patrick, I am so sorry. Please let me try and explain," she begged, sobbing.
I got right up in her face. "You want to explain? Go ahead! Explain! What? What's your excuse? What possible good reason is there for cheating on the father of your children?"
Clarissa said nothing, just sobbed. "Nothing? You got nothing to say? Yeah, that's what I figured." I turned and headed back towards my truck and the boys.
"I resented you!" I stopped and turned around. "I resented you, Patrick!"
I walked back towards her. "Resented me? For what?"
"For being you, Patrick," she sobbed. "I resented you for being you. We lived in a small starter home in Red River Falls when you were on the security officer department. I had to prod you into moving to the country but you couldn't unless you got hired by the sheriff's department. You weren't really going for it. You were comfortable on the security officer department and could have been happy there and in that little house forever.
"I wanted so much for us, Patrick. But I never felt like you wanted it as much as I did. That's how I got involved with Bud so you could finally get on the sheriff's department and we could move to our acreage. And then I just got enamored with Bud Roberts and how much drive and ambition he had and wished that I could see that in you, too. I just always wished that you could be more than you were, Patrick."
"Why wasn't I good enough for you the way I was?"
"I don't know. Because you just weren't, Patrick. Bud introduced me to Marion and other important people around the community. I knew you were never going to actively pursue being anything more than just a patrol deputy. You were happy just doing your job and that was it. I just wanted you to be so much more, Patrick. I felt important when I was with Bud Roberts and even Marion. I felt like I had power, drive and ambition because they liked me."
"Then what the hell was Brad Weston?"
"Brad Weston was just sex. I knew I could get any man I wanted and a lot of the women at the gym had been with Brad and talked about how good he was and how big his dick was and other stupid stuff that bitchy women talk about. I went after Brad just because I could. It was for sport.
"Bud Roberts was the real man in my life at that time. And it was because of what I told you before. He was a 'somebody'. You were still a 'nobody', Patrick."
My heart was breaking. I stood there for a moment before answering. "All I ever wanted for us, Clarissa, was for me to be a good husband and good father - two things I never had in my life. My own father was so obsessed with running his law firm that he never had time for me, my sister or my Mom. He was barely there for her when she was dying of cancer. All I ever wanted, Clarissa, was the family I never had growing up."
"I'm sorry, Patrick. I couldn't help the way I feel. I just feel like you could have been so much more. Your father is an incredibly successfully attorney. Your sister's husband is a successful attorney. You could have been anything you wanted, Patrick. You settled for being just a cop and I started to hate you for that!"
I stood there for a few moments, just absorbing her words. Clarissa had stopped crying and actually seemed to have gained some resolve and confidence. Suddenly, she returned to being the Clarissa I knew at the end of our marriage again.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

And then I started to chuckle. And that was followed by laughter. Pretty soon, I was laughing so hard my sides hurt.

"What the hell is so funny, Patrick?"
"You!" I said, trying to regain my composure. "You are what is so funny! Don't you get it? The whole fucked up situation is so ironic it's hilarious! I was content being the man I wanted to be - a good husband, father and provider. That wasn't good enough for you. So you cheated on me with the type of men you wanted in your life.
"And because you turned yourself into a shameless whore for these men, it ultimately ended up turning me into the man you always wanted me to be! And now I'm finally the man you always wanted and I have absolutely ZERO desire to be a part of your life! Ironic, huh?" I burst out laughing again as Clarissa burst into tears again from a new wave of shame.
"Please, Patrick. You have to believe that I'm not that same person anymore. That's who I was then, not who I am now."
"Oh, bullshit, Clarissa. For a moment there during your explanation, I caught a very good glimpse of Clarissa the cuckoldress. She's still there somewhere inside, whether you believe it or not. And besides, why should you care now, anyway? You've got Tom Wellington in your life to fill the role of the ambitious, successful male role model."
"I broke up with Tom weeks ago, Patrick. I haven't seen him since the Festival. It's you I think of now. I still love you and only you! Believe me, Patrick, if I could go back in time and change things to where we lived in our little two-bedroom ranch house and you back on the security officer force, I would do it in a heartbeat not to have to go through all of this again," she sobbed.
"But we can't, Clarissa. We can't. If there's one thing I learned from you it is that I'm no longer going to focus on the past. Our life when we lived in that little ranch house together is in the past and you chose to ignore it. Our time together before I became Sheriff is in the past and I'm going to choose to ignore that.
"My life has one direction now, Clarissa, and that is forward. And I'm choosing to take the boys, Shannon and Bridget with me." I turned and left once and for all and climbed back in my truck, casting one final glance at Clarissa as she stood there sobbing and trying to console herself.
"Why is Mom crying?" my youngest, Jake, wanted to know.
"Because she misses someone," I answered.
"Who does she miss?" Nick asked.
"Someone who doesn't exist anymore."
"What happened to him? Did he die?" Jake asked.
"Nope. He didn't die, boys. In a very real way, you could probably say he was reborn."
I put the big Ford in gear and headed back to my home in the country, forward to my new life with my boys, my soon-to-be daughter Bridget and my beautiful fiancée Shannon, who would become my loving wife in just a few short weeks.
I caught one last glance at Clarissa in my rearview mirror and was struck by how profoundly appropriate that image was. She was right where she belonged.
SB

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The Ghost of Red River Falls

For more information on the characters in this story, please read the following:

What Mother-In-Law Wants

Badge of Betrayal

Clarissa Gets Served

Grab Life by the Balls

*****

The Ghost of Red River Falls

A Sheriff Pat Quinn Spin-off Story

In hindsight, it should have been my first and biggest clue. By the end of the weekend, she had more pictures taken of her with them than she did anybody else, including me. And definitely way more photos were taken of them than were taken of her, me and my own parents.

But of all the photos that were taken it was the ones taken of her and them while she was holding a photo of him that probably bothered me the most.

You probably have absolutely no clue who I am talking about. When I mention she or her I am talking about my lovely bride, Wendy. When I mention them, I am talking about her previous in-laws, Ed and Joanne Parmelly. And when I mention him, I am talking about my new bride's first husband, Kevin. And the pictures I am speaking of were all taken on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, my and Wendy's wedding day.

Kevin and Wendy were the typical high college sweethearts who stayed together through college at Bemidji State University and eventually married. They had what most people would call a storybook and idyllic marriage, sharing a love that grew deeper and more intense daily. They were the absolute envy of everyone they knew and had the type of relationship that the Hallmark Channel absolutely would drool over the movie rights for.

Kevin was truly the epitome of the All-American boy. He had excelled at everything he had chosen to do. He was the quintessential four-star athlete in high college and was captain of every team he participated in - football, ice hockey, track and baseball. Kevin was a big fish in a little pond while in high college in Red River Falls but also excelled when playing hockey at Bemidji State. He was one of the most feared forwards ever to play for the Beavers.

If Kevin was the All-American boy, Wendy was equally the All-American girl. She was athletic just like Kevin and shunned cheerleading for a position as a goaltender on the Bemidji State women's hockey team. In fact, she set a college record her senior season for fewest goals allowed and helped the team get to the Women's Frozen Four, where they were eventually defeated by Boston College. The standing joke amongst Bemidji State students was that the only person who could score with Wendy Davis was Kevin Parmelly!

Kevin graduated with a degree in Business Administration with an emphasis in finance and returned to Red River Falls to take a position as a personal banker and financial planner with Wells Fargo.

Wendy received a degree from Bemidji State in Modern Languages with an emphasis in Spanish. She taught Spanish full-time to freshmen and sophomores at Red River Falls Community College and also taught English as a Second Language courses to Red River Falls' growing Hispanic community.

Both Wendy and Kevin were extremely well-liked and adored as a couple, the absolute envy of everyone they knew. Life had absolutely nothing but the most amazing adventures and experiences in store for those two. You just knew it.

But fate can be cruel, as we all know. Wendy and Kevin had been married for a little over two years when Kevin began experiencing a number of health problems. It started as a series of colds and other infections that took him a ridiculously long time and copious amounts of various medications to get rid of. Sooner, rather than later, another cold or flu bug would hit and would put Kevin down for the count even longer than the previous illness.

No one could understand how a man in excellent health and physical condition like Kevin could suddenly seem so vulnerable to illness. Finally, his physician ordered Kevin to be hospitalized and they ran a battery of tests to try and come up with the answers. Physical appearance-wise, Kevin looked almost the same. He hadn't really lost much weight or muscle mass; he just couldn't seem to stay well.

Finally, the doctors at Holy Family Medical Center discovered the horrifying answer to what was causing his illnesses - cancer. And not just any cancer but pancreatic cancer.

Pancreatic cancer can often have the extremely cruel effect of giving a person the appearance of being in good health while making them extremely miserable and sick at the same time. Basically, you can actually look pretty good even though you are dying. Pancreatic cancer has a mortality rate of nearly 95% within five years. By the time a person even begins showing symptoms, the cancer is often already at an advanced stage and has begun to actively spread to the rest of the body.

A PET scan soon revealed the worst - Kevin had cancerous spots on his brain, his lungs, his liver, his spine and his kidneys. All of this had been discovered even before Kevin had a chance to start his first round of chemotherapy.

The doctors at Holy Family Medical Center in Red River Falls immediately shipped Kevin off to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The disease was halted briefly and Kevin actually seemed to make some progress. But hope turned to despair once again after Kevin finished his last round of chemotherapy. A new PET scan revealed signs of cancer in his lymph nodes and bone marrow. Despite the best care possible, Kevin's health continued to deteriorate.

He died three days before their third wedding anniversary.

To say that Wendy was devastated would be a gross understatement. The disappearance of the dreams and aspirations that she and Kevin shared was equal to the pain that most people endure with the loss of a child. Wendy stated eloquently that when she saw Kevin in his casket for the final time, she saw not just Kevin but also the souls of generations of people who will never exist because Kevin is no longer here. She thought of the children and grandchildren they would never have and those thoughts multiplied the pain and anguish she was feeling exponentially.

It took her a good six months before she felt good enough to return to work and it was another six months before she even seemed to resemble the person she was when Kevin was still living. Copious amounts of counseling and grief therapy had helped her get through the worst of it but she still cried herself to sleep, clutching a picture of Kevin in her arms nearly every night.

Ed and Joanne Parmelly were equally devastated by the loss of their oldest son. Despite the fact that the Parmellys were blessed with four other amazing children - Greg, Bobby, Melinda and Nate - they could not seem to get over the death of their favorite son.

As a result, Ed and Joanne continued to dote love and affection on Wendy. They invited her to every family gathering and treated her as the guest of honor. Ed Parmelly did everything he could to try and keep Kevin's spirit alive in their family. Kevin was all that Ed ever talked about - his sports achievements, the life he would have had with Wendy, what an amazing businessman Kevin was turning out to be before he died.

People began to suspect that the rest of the Parmelly's children couldn't help but resent the fact that their parents, especially Ed, still spent so much time romanticizing the life of Kevin while seemingly ignoring their own. So great was the depth of their pain, I surmised, that they were unable to experience the joy and gifts they had with their other four children.

Greg and Bobby were only a year apart in age and seemed like the best of friends. I could only assume they found in the brotherhood they shared that which they were missing in the form of attention they should have received from their parents. But they, too, idolized their older brother and often shared in building upon the image everyone had of Kevin. Even in death, Kevin seemed to have grown bigger in stature than he held in life.

Melinda, their only daughter, was nothing less than a beauty queen. Whereas Kevin, Greg and Bobby were all stereotypical athletes, Melinda was something of a diva. Almost a tragic beauty in some way, she had a slightly dignified air about her that was almost reminiscent of the poise expected of Miss America or Miss Universe.

The youngest son, Nate, was what I call an urban cowboy. He loved his Western style of clothing with western cut flannel shirts, overly tight-fitting Wrangler jeans, and was never seen without his favorite pair of well-worn Justin boots. He also had a black Stetson that he wore often. He was the furthest thing from a cowboy in occupation, however. He actually had a job as the auditorium and stage manager for Red River Falls Community College. I would have never thought you could get a full-time gig for something like that but Nate had. Moreover, Nate also had a degree in Fine Arts with an emphasis in theater from Macalester College in the Twin Cities.

No, it never occurred to me to pay attention to some of the signs on the day of my wedding that I now look back and see as such ominous portents of the hell my life would become. While it may not be physically possible to be cuckolded by a dead man, what I would ultimately experience would be a close second.

My name is Jack Fitzgerald. I was a Lieutenant with the Red River Falls Fire Department when I married Wendy Parmelly. I had wanted to be a firefighter ever since I was in kindergarten and our class got to take a tour of the fire station for Fire Prevention Week. I was totally hooked.

I graduated from Red River Falls High college about seven years before Wendy and Kevin. My post-high college pursuits led me to St. Cloud State University where I pursued a degree in Public Safety Administration with a double major in Fire Science. I also took the training for and became certified as a Nationally Registered EMT-Paramedic. As soon as I graduated from St. Cloud State, I took the written test and physical agility test with the Red River Falls Fire Department and successfully passed both. I was number one on the list of qualified candidates and was offered a position as a Probationary Firefighter when the next opening became available.

Red River Falls Community College recently started offering classes for students who wished to pursue an Associate's Degree in Fire Science. I, along with several other fire instructors from RRFFD, served as the faculty for the program. I was the lead instructor for the Fire Science 215 class, International Building and Fire Codes. It was while teaching that class that I met Wendy Parmelly.

I was absolutely awestruck when I met her. I couldn't get over her amazing flame-red hair, her penetrating aquamarine eyes, and the millions of freckles that seemed to dot her face and arms. I'm a total sucker for girls with freckles. Wendy didn't seem to smile much. But when she did, it was a million dollar smile. She was tall, around 5'9", and had a very trim and athletic body.

I was extremely hesitant about asking her for a date. An English instructor at RRFCC had clued me into Wendy's past and what had happened to her husband. The thought of what she had to endure with being a widow at such a young age was painful, even for me. I saw her nearly every day at the college. One particular day she and I actually made eye contact and I simply offered her a smile and a wave. To my joy, she returned both.

No words were spoken between us that day but I was literally on cloud nine for days afterwards. Suddenly, Wendy consumed my thoughts and I couldn't get her out of my head. We passed each other coming and going often at the college and for weeks all we did was trade smiles and waves from a distance.

Knowing what I knew about her past, though, I definitely couldn't take a fast approach or the direct approach. I knew that I would get shot down immediately.

Luckily, I didn't have to. I didn't generally eat at the college cafeteria but one particular day I was pressed for time. Often times the class I was teaching at the college fell on days I was scheduled to work my regular shift at the fire department. So on those days, I was under the gun to teach and get my butt back to work.

To my astonishment, Wendy herself made the first move and sat down across from me while I was munching on a pork tenderloin.

She reached across the table and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Wendy Parmelly." I gingerly reached out and returned the handshake. "I see you in passing all the time but we've never had a chance to formally meet."

I tried to be as mannerly as I could because she caught me with a mouthful of food just as she sat down.

"I'm Jack Fitzgerald," I said as soon as I had swallowed. It was a wonder I hadn't choked.

We exchanged pleasantries and polite conversation while we both finished our lunch. I was so enamored with her that before I even knew what hit me, almost two hours had passed and I was extremely late in getting back to the fire station to finish my shift.

I knew my captain was going to be extremely pissed at my tardiness but I totally didn't care as Wendy and I had exchanged phone numbers and promises to meet up for coffee in the near future. It was definitely worth the ass chewing!

We took it very, very slow. Almost all of our dates at the beginning were during the daytime and were usually to public places - the mall, our one and only museum, various restaurants for lunches, lots of bike rides and trail hikes, and movie matinees. Wendy was very forthcoming when talking about Kevin and, oftentimes, I would let her cry out her frustrations at having the life she dreamed of with Kevin taken from her.

We had been doing our version of casual dating nearly four months before Wendy eventually let me kiss her good night after an evening with dinner and a movie. I walked her up to the front of the small bungalow that she and Kevin bought as their starter home, held her hands in mine, and leaned in for a gentle but heartfelt good night kiss.

I promised myself that I wouldn't even begin to think about having a sexual relationship with Wendy until she was good and ready and resigned myself, with no hesitation, that I would wait until we were married, if I was fortunate enough to get to that point.

Wendy and I had been dating for nearly a year before either of us brought up the topic of getting married. I started the conversation by simply asking if she saw herself getting married again and moving on. She said yes. Much to my surprise, she furthered the conversation by stating that she thought she could see herself with me in her future, too.

Needless to say, my heart exploded with joy at hearing those words. From that moment on, our relationship began to deepen. She would still talk about Kevin a lot and her previous life with him. But instead of the conversation turning into an emotional maelstrom, she seemed like she was to the point where she could think of him and smile while knowing that she was still a young and vibrant woman with a future ahead of her.

We continued dating for another six months before I felt that I was comfortable enough to pop the question. At that point, it was three-and-a-half years after Kevin's passing. I asked her to marry me at one of our favorite parks overlooking the Red River Valley.

Wendy said 'yes' immediately and I was immensely happy. But shortly after agreeing to marry me, Wendy had a couple of requests. First, she wanted me to formally ask her father Mike for her hand in marriage. And, second, she asked me to please speak with Kevin's parents, Ed and Joanne, for their blessing as well.

Asking Mike Hasseman, Wendy's father, for permission to marry his daughter was a piece of cake. I had really hit it off with Wendy's parents, Mike and Christie, when I had first met them. But I had definitely NOT hit it off when I met Ed and Joanne for the first time. Or any other time after that, for that matter.

To say that they were cool and icy to me would be like saying the North Pole has a slight chill in the air. It was clear that they saw me as an interloper and potentially the man who would erase the life Wendy and Kevin had shared. That was certainly not my intention in any way, shape or form. I did my best to ingratiate myself to them but all I can say is that they were cordial, and reluctantly so, at best. They did little to get to know me at the various social functions we went to, either at Mike and Christie's house, or at the Parmelly's, to which Wendy was always invited.

I seemed to get along okay with Greg, Bobby and Melinda. Nate, the youngest of the Parmelly clan, was the most difficult to read. He always looked at me with some kind of goofy smirk, like he was in on a joke that everyone else was telling behind my back. I couldn't help but sense that Ed and Joann Parmelly hoped that somehow Nate would come in and sweep Wendy off her feet and restore her place in the Parmelly family.

When I showed up that fateful night at the Parmelly house to ask for their blessing for Wendy and me, Ed Parmelly looked as though someone had just shot him in the stomach. Neither Ed nor Joanne said a word at first, just stunned silence. Ed rose slowly from his chair, went upstairs and went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Joanne tried to compose herself and simply said, "It's nothing against you, Jack. You seem like an awfully nice man. We just want what's best for Wendy, that's all."

I had absolutely ZERO idea of how to take her response. When I saw Wendy the next day, she asked me how it went. I struggled with what to say to her, so I just said, "Ed and Joanne want you to be happy." It wasn't exactly a lie but Wendy was ecstatic.

All of that led to our big wedding day, the day that should have been the happiest of my life. We followed tradition and didn't have the pictures taken until after the wedding was over and before the reception.

I should have known something was up from all of the pictures Wendy had taken of herself with Ed and Joanne. Add to that the fact that Ed was also in a tuxedo, almost like he was the father of the bride. The weird part was that Mike and Christie Hasseman, her parents, didn't seem to mind in the least.

I quickly began to feel like the third wheel at my own wedding. I got the first dance with Wendy, which was amazing. I felt like our bodies could melt into each other and, for a few brief moments, it felt like we were alone in a universe of two.

Soon, the father-bride/mother-son dance came along and Wendy danced with Mike while I shared a dance with my wonderful mother, Sandra. My father, Jim, watched from his seat and beamed with pride. He would share the next dance with Wendy.

But I couldn't believe it when the next dance was announced that it would be a very special dance shared only by Wendy and Ed Parmelly. I couldn't help but feel embarrassed that I was stuck watching my new bride dance with the father of her deceased first husband. I also felt like an asshole for feeling that way. Ed and Wendy were obviously having an intimate conversation while dancing and they both had tears in their eyes.

Over the next three hours, I got to dance with my new bride twice and was cut in both times by none other than Ed Parmelly. The only reason I even let him was because I was too big of a puss to make a scene at my own wedding.

Finally, the reception and dance came to an end and Wendy and I were able to retreat from the banquet room to our private suite for the night. I was nervous as hell knowing that we were about to finally consummate our marriage and love for one another. It would be the chance to finally put all of the frustrations of the wedding and reception behind us and truly express our love for one another.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Wendy came out of the bathroom dressed only in a one-piece bright white teddy that looked absolutely amazing! I've never physically drooled over a woman before, even during the horniest periods of my teenage years. But the vision standing before me was none other than the absolute perfection of the female form.

Her blazing red hair seemed to glow as she let it hang in a free fall down her back and shoulders. She tried to be confident but was clearly just as nervous as I was.
She led me to our bed by the hand. I was dressed only in boxers. I initially intended to leave the bedside lamps on. I wanted to be able to see the woman I was making love to for the first time. But Wendy insisted on turning off the lights.
We wasted very little time on foreplay. Wendy took the lead in ridding herself of the barely-there thong that passed for her underwear while quickly doffing my own boxers as well. My cock was so rock-hard that I was almost embarrassed by it - as though she would think of me as boyish for getting so worked up over sex.
We kissed deeply and passionately for a while before she finally had me get on my back and she mounted me cowgirl style. It all seemed to be sudden and fast but I hoped that it was only the first of many couplings we would share that night.
My rigid member slid easily into her. She paused briefly, closed her eyes and said, "Oh, yesssss!" She established a slow methodical rhythm. It was obvious that this was the position she was most comfortable with and she began to steadily rock herself to a gentle first orgasm.
I could barely make out her lithe form in the darkness. What I couldn't see my imagination made up for. It was all I could do to concentrate on pleasing my new wife and not blow it. Surprisingly, even though it had been several years since I had been with a woman myself, I did an amazing job of not blowing it too soon.
Wendy started getting more and more into it and she threw her head back as another orgasm crept upon her, this one more powerful than the first. She lurched forward, slapping her hands on my chest to brace herself. She was mumbling under her breath and I could barely make out what she was saying - at first.
"Oh, god! Yes! You make me feel so good! No one makes me feel like you do," she whispered breathlessly. I picked up the rhythm and started to pound my rock hard tool into her even harder. Her body responded immediately and she was soon in the throes of the most powerful orgasm of the night. And then, my world collapsed.
"Oh, my god! You are so amazing! Oh, I love the way you make me feel, Kevin!"
I stopped thrusting almost immediately as my brain processed what she had just said. I lay there, nearly out of breath myself, but from an equal amount of shock as much as sexual fervency.
"What? What's the matter, babe? Why did you stop?" she asked, obviously eager to get back to what we were doing.
"Did...did...you just...call me...Kevin?" I stuttered.
"What? Why would...no! God, no! Why would I do that?"
I reached over and turned the light on. Wendy's face had a very light sheen of sweat built up on it. "Yes, you did. You did call me Kevin. Is that why you wanted to keep the lights off? So you could think of Kevin while we were making love for the first time?"
"God, no! Why would you think that? And why would you just stop in the middle? I mean, I was almost there, Kev!"
"Jesus! You just did it again!"
"I...uh...God! Now you're confusing me with all this talk of Kevin! I can assure you I didn't call you Kevin! I know who I'm with now, Jack!" She rolled off of me and lay next to me on the hotel bed. "God, Jack! Thanks for ruining our consummation!" Uh-oh. She was really pissed. Hell hath no fury like a woman denied an orgasm.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know what I heard. Maybe you didn't mean to say it, but you did. And I will always go out of my way to be sensitive of your first marriage because you both deserve it. But I also gotta know that I'm gonna be first in your life, too."
"You are, Jack, you really are. I'm not sure why you thought I said Kevin's name. But I can understand why it would bother you." She turned towards me on the bed and snuggled up to me. "Look, it has been a really long week leading up to today and an incredibly long and stressful day for both of us. Maybe we should grab a little sleep first and we can pick up where we left off in a few hours, huh? Nothing a guy likes better than getting woken up for sex, right?" And she kissed me on the cheek.
Sure. Nothing better a guy likes better than wakeup sex. I reached down and grabbed my boxers and pulled them back on. Somehow, I was suddenly embarrassed by my rapidly waning erection. I turned towards Wendy, spooned her, and turned out the light.
I didn't get woken up for sex that night and I got very little sleep as my mind replayed the event over and over. I would have to live with the ignominy of knowing that I couldn't even finish making love to my wife for the first time. Worse yet, despite her denials, was the knowledge that she was making love to her dead husband instead of me - in her mind, at least.
Wendy and I didn't have much time for a honeymoon. We had decided to hold off taking a trip until the end of summer, when our respective work schedules could better accommodate it. The week following our wedding was busy with me getting all of my stuff moved out of the two-bedroom apartment I had lived in for so long and getting moved into the house with Wendy.
Hindsight is always 20/20 and one of the other major mistakes I made at the very beginning was allowing myself to be talked into moving into the home that Wendy and Kevin had shared. Wendy had made a lot of convincing arguments, including a list of pros and cons, as to why I should move in with her.
It goes without saying that I felt like a stranger in the house the minute I moved in there. Truth is, during the time that Wendy and I were dating I never really spent any appreciable amount of time there. All of the furniture was what they had bought together. Yes, even the bed in the master bedroom was the one that she and Kevin had shared.
I deftly tried to talk Wendy into getting new furniture and decorating the house in a style that was more reminiscent of who we were (or at least who I thought we were) as a couple. Wendy kept repeating how much money she and Kevin had spent on their furniture and belongings and how it just didn't make sense to spend so much money on brand new stuff. She also used the argument that she knew I didn't make as much money as a firefighter as Kevin had made as a personal banker.
And so, do my great discredit, I went along to get along. I held my tongue, kept my peace. And did it all because I absolutely loved and adored the woman I was married to.
A few awkward days went by after we had gotten married and settled into the house as a couple before we attempted to make love again. This time, it was slow and loving and I felt like I was finally making the sexual and emotional connection with Wendy that I desperately wanted. And this time, with an obvious amount of effort on her part, no names of previous lovers were mentioned at any time during the act.
The only thing that bothered me was that Wendy seemed to be really into the act - not because she was sexually aroused - but because she was determined not to have a repeat of our wedding night. I knew that Wendy didn't experience an orgasm that second time, probably because she was concentrating so hard on making things okay for me.
On one hand, I appreciated her effort. On the other, I couldn't help but feel deep down inside that it was pity sex and a silent apology. I knew perfectly well that Wendy knew exactly whose name she called out that night. And trying to make up for it now, without actually talking about it, only added a bit of salt to the wound.
Exactly one week after our wedding, Wendy and I were invited to a barbecue at Ed and Joanne Parmelly's house. All of the Parmelly clan was going to be there, including Greg, Bobby, Melinda and Nate as well as the Greg and Bobby's children.
I really, really, REALLY did not want to go. But I knew that there was no way I was going to win an argument against going. So, as usual, I kept my damned mouth shut, carried the pistachio salad Wendy had made into Ed and Joanne's house and did my best to act like some sort of invited guest.
Ed and Joanne, of course, greeted Wendy with hugs and kisses. Ed turned his back on me to go check on the grill, which apparently demanded his undivided attention at that exact moment. I reached for Joanne's hand, shook it gently and said, "Thank you for having us." Joanne just gave me a weak smile and then walked to the back yard arm-in-arm with Wendy as the two of them struck up an animated conversation.
I got in the back yard and was half-heartedly greeted by Greg Parmelly, who had only been a little over a year younger than Kevin.
"Hey, Jack," he said, extending his hand. "Glad you and Wendy could make it. Can I get you a beverage or something?"
"Uh, sure. Whatta ya got?"
"Coors, Bud heavy or Bud light. Take your pick."
"Bud light would be perfect." Greg handed me the bottle of blue yummy and I kind of awkwardly stood by and listened to an animated conversation between Greg and Bobby over the grain market, something I knew absolutely nothing about. Both Greg and Bobby worked in agricultural sales, with Greg an up-and-coming salesman for John Deere implements and Bobby as a seed dealer for Monsanto. Both men owed their living to the overall health of the farm economy and I'm sure their conversation was extremely important.
I excused myself from their company, which neither even noticed nor acknowledged, and wandered aimlessly about the back yard, watching the kids play on the trampoline and the swing set in their grandparents' yard. Something odd eventually struck me about the image of a grown man watching little kids play while sucking down a cold beer, so I eventually made my way back to the patio where the rest of the adults were sitting.
When the burgers were finished, Ed Parmelly called everyone to the table. Much to my dismay, there were only enough seats at the large table on the patio for Ed, Joann, Wendy, Greg and his wife Samantha, Bobby and his wife Tabitha, Melinda and her fiancé Reese, and good old Nate. Embarrassingly, I was invited to sit with the four kids at the picnic table.
Worst of all, I kept seeing glances from Nate looking at me with a goofy smirk on his face as if to say, "you poor pathetic bastard."
I laid off the beer the rest of the afternoon. Since I couldn't seem to engage or be engaged by any of the adults in conversation, I readily accepted an offer from Greg and Bobby's kids to join them on the trampoline and push them on the swings. We even rough-housed a little bit and played tag and kickball in the expansive back yard.
The last three hours of the gathering actually went fast and the little kids did their best to wear me out. As Wendy was hugging everyone and saying our goodbyes, Greg Parmelly's little boy, Tyler, came up to me asking to be picked up. He was a pretty cute little three-year-old with an absolute mop of dirty blonde hair.
"Thanks for playing with us, Uncle Jack!"
"You're welcome! I had a lot of -"
"What the hell did he just say?" demanded Ed Parmelly. "Did he tell you to call him that, Tyler?"
There was stunned silence all around.
"Jesus, Dad," Greg said in an exaggerated whisper. "Take it easy. He doesn't know the difference." Ed shot Greg an extremely pissed look. Then he looked back towards me and Tyler.
"Jack is your friend, Tyler. And he's Wendy's husband. But he's not your uncle."
Confused, little Tyler begged, "Does that mean Wendy isn't my aunt anymore?"
"No, Aunt Wendy will always be your Aunt. But Jack...," he said glaring at me, "well...Jack will never be your uncle." And then the old bastard turned and went inside the house.
All around, everyone just stared at me in horror. Even Nate, who had been giving me stupid smirks all afternoon, looked away in embarrassment for his father. I patted little Tyler on the back, thanked him again for playing, and handed him to his father.
"Come on, Jack," Wendy beckoned. "I think we should just grab our stuff and go."
Wendy and the remaining Parmelly clan all exchanged hugs again. It seemed like some of them wanted to say something to me, as well, but nobody had the words - or the balls. They were just too damned scared to say anything within possible earshot of Ed Parmelly.
Wendy and I rode in silence most of the way back home. Finally, as we neared the house, she spoke up.
"Ed Parmelly is an amazing man and an incredible father, Jack. You need to just give him time to warm up to you. He doesn't know you like I know you. He'll come around. You'll see, I promise."
I pulled my truck, a "new-to-me" 2012 King Ranch Ford F-250, into the driveway and said nothing. Wendy gave my hand a squeeze of reassurance and exited my truck.
As I walked into the house, the whole embarrassing afternoon replayed through my mind and was amplified as I walked into the front door. Suddenly, I was struck by the overwhelming sensation of being a stranger in what was supposed to be my home with Wendy. The realization that the only meaningful things I had brought with me to the home were my stereo and my clothes.
"We" (meaning, Wendy) had decided that none of the furniture I had from my apartment matched the décor of the house. Thus, it was sitting in a rented storage unit at this time. What I wouldn't give to at least just sit back and relax while watching a ball game in my old recliner. It was only a year old. But it had built in cup holders, a built-in TV remote so it never got lost, and also had headphone jacks and a built-in MP3 player so I could either listen to music or listen to a TV show or ball game undisturbed.
The basement of Wendy's house (I still couldn't think of it as "our" house) was completely finished. It was going to initially house a workout room. I decided that I needed to make a Man Cave.
I had to work a 24-hour shift at the fire station the day after the fiasco at Ed and Joanne's house. So, first thing Monday morning, I drove my truck over to the storage unit and retrieved my 60-inch plasma TV, my theater-style wrap-around sectional sofa and my good old mother-of-all-La-Z-Boys recliner.
I also retrieved my Foosball table and picked up a pre-owned 8-foot pool table with some help from my fellow firefighters.
Wendy was teaching summer courses that day and was also busy with faculty meetings at Red River Falls Community College. By the time she arrived home that night, the "Jack Cave" was ready. Okay, okay. That was a totally stupid name for the man cave. Sounds like a den of 24-hour non-stop masturbation, right? I promise I'll work on a better name, alright?
I also decided to put up all my Minnesota Vikings and Minnesota Twins posters and paraphernalia. I'm not huge into college sports, but I did buy and put up some Bemidji State stuff, too.
Wendy came home from work around 4:00 pm and was surprised to see my buddies from work there and was even more surprised to see what we had done with the basement. To say she was shocked was an understatement. She didn't say much at first as she saw guys playing pool and Foosball. We were even watching a replay of last night's Twins game on Fox Sports North on the plasma.
Wendy just smiled politely when I showed her the Bemidji State pennants and logos that I had put up along with the Vikings and Twins stuff. After a few moments, she just put her hand to her mouth and walked back upstairs. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought she might be trying to keep herself from crying.
My fellow firefighters could all see it, too. She wasn't happy. "Party's over, guys," was all I could say.
My brothers slowly filed out of the house and I went with them. "Thanks for all the help," I told each of them as they left. Once they were gone, I trudged back into the house with iron butterflies in my stomach.
I found Wendy in the kitchen, eating a banana - and not in a sexy way, either. She was reading today's newspaper and doing everything to avoid looking at me.
Finally, she spoke. "I see you decided to decorate the basement without me."
"Look, Wendy. I can explain."
"Can you? Can you explain? I thought we agreed that we were keeping the house the way it was."
"Look, sweetheart, I didn't change anything. There was all that empty space in the basement. The whole upstairs is exactly the way it was. Nothing is missing or moved. Everything is just the way it was when Kevin was here. I just needed a little space of my own, that's all."
"But you didn't even talk to me about it, Jack! You just went ahead and did whatever you wanted to. You never asked me if I had any plans for the downstairs. Do you have any idea how disrespected I feel right now? This has been my home now for almost six years, Jack! You've only been here a week and you just take over an entire floor of the house without asking!"
"I thought...this was my home now, too."
"Yeah, well...it is. But that doesn't mean you get to arbitrarily make a decision like this, Jack."
"Look, Wendy, I had a lot of my old stuff from before, too. Some of that stuff, believe it or not, is actually kind of sentimental to me. I mean, you have everything in this house that you had before we got married. I mean, before today, I had absolutely nothing in this house of my own. I just wanted some of my things. I wish you could understand that."
"And I wish, Jack, that you could understand how upset you've made me," she said, getting up from the table and heading for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. I did not take that as an invitation for further discussion.
An hour passed. I finally got hungry and decided to make some supper. Even though it was summer and not really the best time for it, I whipped up a quick batch of spaghetti along with some garlic bread and a tossed salad. I mustered up the courage to knock on the door to the bedroom.
"You can come in," she said, dryly. She was lying on the bed reading a book. Wendy is a huge Isaac Asimov fan and has read all of his books at least twice.
"I made some supper, if you wanna come eat with me. Just some spaghetti, bread and salad. I thought you might be hungry."
Wendy looked up at me. She put her book aside and walked quietly out to the kitchen. She grabbed a plate and heaped a generous portion of spaghetti on her plate, snatched a couple of pieces of bread and a bowl of salad. Then, managing not to spill anything, she picked up the whole ensemble and deftly carried them back to the bedroom and closed the door with her foot - leaving me standing there with the obvious message that I would be dining alone tonight.
She might as well have told me to go fuck myself.
I was absolutely crushed. I had done what I did that day because I felt like an outsider in that house, which I was. I was just too stupid to realize it yet.
I ate my meal in silence, realizing that Wendy was not going to forgive me any time soon. I cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen and put away the leftovers. Around nine o'clock, I knocked on the bedroom door. Wendy didn't answer, so I carefully crept in. She had stacked her dishes on the nightstand by the bed. Wendy was already in bed and fast asleep. Worse, I could tell that she had obviously cried herself to sleep.
I took the dishes and cleaned them up, too. Finally, after watching the end of David Letterman, I decided to call it a night. I grabbed a blanket and spare pillow from the hall linen closet and made my way downstairs and decided to sleep in the man cave that was the cause of my pain this day. Less than two weeks of marriage and I was already sleeping on the couch.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I got up early the next morning and decided it was as good a day as any to get back into my distance running. I was gone for almost two hours, which was probably a lot longer than I should have run, considering how long it had been since I last ran in spring time. But being out and about with nothing to do but run gave me a chance to clear my head a bit.

By the time I got back it was only 7:30. But to my dismay, Wendy had already been up and left for work. Worse, she had written a note and left it on the table.
Babe,
Left for work early for a meeting. We need to talk and get some things settled. I'll be home mid-afternoon.
W.
Shit. As the day went on, I started to steel myself to the fact that she was going to insist on the man cave disappearing. The one area of the house I could sort of call my own, it was also the one area of the house where I didn't feel like I was constantly being watched by a ghost.
True to her word, Wendy came home right at 2:30. She changed out of her teaching attire and into a light sun dress. I have to say she looked absolutely amazing in it. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was pissed at me, I would have taken her right then and there.
She immediately started in on me about the man cave and how we had agreed that decisions regarding decorating of the house were to be made by both of us and not just arbitrarily by one of us.
"What about all the furniture in the bedrooms, living room and kitchen?"
"What about them, Jack?"
"Wendy, I never got any say in whether I wanted to keep that stuff or how any of the rooms should be decorated. You just wanted everything to stay exactly the way it was."
"What would be the point in throwing out perfectly good furniture that matches the décor of the house so well?"
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of my stuff, either, honey. I bought good stuff for my apartment."
"Yes, but it was all stuff that screamed 'bachelor pad'. Everything in this house is stuff that was picked out by a loving couple, Jack. It gives off the impression that two mature, loving and successful people live here."
I wasn't getting anywhere with her. "Look, this is difficult for me to say. It would kill me if I offended you, Wendy. But I'm going to have to trust that as a married couple we can share with each other what is on our mind."
"Of course we can, Jack."
"Okay, then. Here goes. This whole house is exactly the way it was when you and Kevin lived here. It still holds the essence of who you were as a couple. Now that I'm living here, there is nothing here that says anything about me. I can't help but feel like a stranger here. There is nothing here that has any of my personality to it. That's why I felt like I needed to create a space in the basement. I could leave everything on the upstairs the way it was for you and Kevin and carve out a little niche for myself that wouldn't impact that at all."
"This place is your place, Jack. I know it probably seems a little foreign to you because it is more familiar for me. This place will grow on you the way it did for me. It is the two people living in the house that make it a home, not the furnishings, Kevin."
My heart sank and my stomach filled with acid. "What did you just call me?"
A look of realization came over Wendy's face. "I'm sorry, Jack. We were just talking about Kevin a second ago. It was just a slip of the tongue."
"Kind of like our wedding night," I reminded her.
"Jack, that's not fair. I totally don't remember saying that." I just looked away in disbelief. Wendy made a peace offering by reaching out and putting her hands on my arm. "Look, we haven't even been married a full two weeks. I don't want us to start our life together by arguing like this. I'm willing to let the man cave stay for now. Fair enough?"
I was still stinging from being called Kevin. But I accepted the olive branch because I, too, was tired of fighting already. Maybe things would get better and I would just eventually get used to everything. After all, it was just stuff, right?
We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and it felt good to hold hands and engage in some idle chit-chat that didn't involve furniture or her previous life.
I surprised her again by making beef stroganoff for supper that night. Being a career firefighter makes you a cook out of necessity. And if you are a bad cook, it will teach you to become a good cook, lest you face the wrath of your hungry brothers.
Wendy led me to bed after I had fallen asleep during Letterman's Top-10 list. There was no sex that night but it felt good to at least share the same bed with my wife again.
I ended up working my regular shift the next day at the fire station, which was fairly uneventful. When I came home the following morning, Wendy had left me a note letting me know where she was and what she would be doing during the day. She also said she planned to host a family get-together this Sunday at our home. She planned on inviting her parents and my parents, along with my sister Jane.
Much to my chagrin, Wendy also invited the entire Parmelly clan. I knew immediately that I was in for a repeat of last week's debacle. Thank God I still had my man cave intact. At least I could escape there if I had to.
One nice gesture, however, was that Wendy had gone to the furniture store while I was working at the fire department and had bought me a recliner that was nearly identical to my favorite one, only it was styled quite similarly to the rest of the furniture in the living room. It even included the built-in remote and beverage holders. Wendy temporarily moved Kevin's recliner from the living room to our spare bedroom for the time being.
Everyone started showing up Sunday right around noon and I played host and welcomed everyone as soon as they came in. My parents, Jim and Sandra, were among the first to show up and I gave them the nickel tour, while Wendy's family let themselves in. I had just finished showing my parents the upstairs of the house when the entire Parmelly clan showed up.
Ed and Joanne gave the living room a once-over and immediately spotted the fact that Kevin's chair was missing.
"That's not Kevin's recliner," Ed blustered. "What happened to his chair?"
"Uh, Wendy bought me that a few days ago," I explained. "The other recliner was moved to the spare bedroom that Wendy also uses as an office." I refused to refer to the chair as Kevin's chair.
"Jesus! There wasn't a damned thing wrong with that chair. No need to go and hide it, for Christ's sake," he mumbled.
"Uh, Ed and Joanne, you remember my parents Jim and Sandra?"
"Oh, yeah," Ed said, half-assed. "Nice to see you all again. Dear," he said to Joanne, "why don't we make our way to the kitchen and see Wendy."
As they left my Dad just gave me a look of 'what-the-fuck-is-his-problem'. I tried not to make a big deal of the slight. What did bother me, however, is that Ed and Joanne sat down at the kitchen table. Our home is set up with a fairly open kitchen that includes the main dining area and only has a small breakfast bar in the kitchen itself. Ed promptly sat down at the head of the table and took ownership of the space, irritating me to no end.
The rest of the Parmelly's - Greg, Bobby and Melinda and their significant others - all herded into the house and began strolling about and checking out the house to see what else was different, now that I had moved in. Nate was the last one to show up and greeted me with his typical smirk and a ridiculously strong handshake.
It didn't take everyone long to discover that I had made some changes to the basement and people started gravitating downstairs. All four of the Parmelly grandkids were immediately smitten with the pool table and foosball table and began to play raucous games of both. Apparently, they had neither knowledge of nor interest in the rules to either game, but I wasn't about to interrupt their fun.
I'm also a bit of a gamer and have both an Xbox and a Nintendo WiiU system and picked out some age-appropriate games that the kids could play on the big screen TV. Greg, Bobby and Nate all spent most of their time down there, as well as my parents and Wendy's parents.
The only major source of irritation through the whole day was that, yet again, there weren't enough seats at the dining table, so I simply chose to eat downstairs with the kids. It wasn't too big of a deal as my own parents ate there with me and we had a good time watching the kids play. They had found a fun spot and weren't about to give it up.
Eventually, after dinner, Ed Parmelly got up from his spot and made his way down to the basement. It was just me and the kids down there as Greg's kids insisted that I play a game of foosball with them, two against one. Ed looked quite disapprovingly at what I had done and just grunted.
"You know, this isn't what Kevin and Wendy had in mind for this part of the house," he said. God, I couldn't get over the arrogance of the man. I knew that he was just trying to goad me into an argument or pray that I would make some kind of disparaging remark about Kevin so he could immediately report my transgression to Wendy.
"Well, I kind of decided to make a gathering space that was a little less formal than the upstairs...a place where people could let their hair down a bit. Seems to be a bit of a hit. I know Greg, Bobby and the kids are all having fun."
And they were. It was noisy down there with the kids playing and getting a little rowdy at times, but I don't mind the sound of people having fun.
Ed gave the space a final once-over, noticing that some of Kevin's other personal things were placed in one of the two basement bedrooms and stood there just shaking his head. He finally retreated back upstairs and I didn't say a word to him again that afternoon.
Everyone left the house by seven o'clock that night. Wendy's parents were the last to leave. Even Mike, Wendy's father, complimented me for my work in the basement and that he had a lot of fun today.
"I have to admit," Wendy said, "that your man cave was big hit. The kids had a blast and I can't remember the last time everyone was here and had such a good time. I missed that. Thank you, Jack." And then she took me in her arms and gave me a very passionate kiss.
She silently led me to the bedroom and shut the door. Then, she proceeded to peel off all of her clothing piece by piece. Wendy stood there in front of me completely nude in all of her amazing glory. I paused and simply took in the sight of her flowing and burning red hair, her amazing eyes, and her smile. I lowered my gaze downward, memorizing the look of each of her creamy white breasts - her nipples fully erect. I passed my gaze over her flat tummy, curiously amused by the unique pattern of freckles that outlined her navel. And finally, I nearly gasped as I took in the sight of her perfectly trimmed bush that was as equally bright as the mane of fire red hair on her head.
Wendy led me by the hand over to the bed and slowly stripped me down as well. I felt somewhat awkward standing there nude with a raging erection that was hard as steel. Wendy just closed her eyes and took my member in her hand and slowly caressed it, feeling the heat absorbed into the palm of her hand.
She gasped as I reached forward and palmed both of her breasts in my hands, delicately squeezing the nipples. With my left hand, I reached own and ran my fingers through her thick little red bush, cupping and rubbing her labia at the same time. After a few strokes, I felt the first rush of fluid seep forth from her pussy and I could tell her passion was rising dramatically.
Wendy reached over and turned out the bed lamp again, to my disappointment. I knew as long as I lived, that I would never get tired of the sight of her perfect form.
We ended up having sex for nearly an hour. Somehow, I managed to keep my composure the whole time, never wavered. I guess my body needed the physical act more than the emotional bonding that the physical act is supposed to create.
You see, I wish I could say that Wendy and I made mad, passionate love that night. But the truth is, only one of us did. Wendy cried out in ecstasy four or five times that night and mentioned both God and her lover's name each time. The only problem? My name was never mentioned.
Like I said, somehow I was able to finish the act only because I believe that my body needed the release. When it was over with, and the rush of hormones and serotonin subsided, the dark reality of my marriage set in once again.
Wendy quickly fell asleep, having been completely sated. She had completely let herself go tonight, probably because I never stopped her even when she was screaming Kevin's name at the height of her orgasm instead of mine.
When I knew she was asleep, I simply put on a pair of boxers, grabbed a pillow and made my way to the sofa in the living room. Sleep didn't come easy for me that night as I was emotionally torn in a way that I had never experienced. How could I be so in love with someone who appeared more and more as though she could never fully reciprocate that love to me? How do you deal with a wife who is so wrapped up in the fantasy of making love to her dead husband while she's making love to me?
The thought of Susan Sarandon from the movie "Bull Durham" kept running through my mind. 'Would you rather that I was screaming his name while making love to you? Or would you rather that I was screaming your name while making love to him?' The thought elicited a brief chuckle but was quickly replaced by the blanket of despair. It was beginning to feel more and more that I would never completely have Wendy's mind, body and soul all to myself. Lying there in that living room, I felt even more of a stranger than I ever had before.
I have no idea when I fell asleep but I was awakened around 4:30 by Wendy. She was dressed in a silky robe and obviously still in a fog from waking up and discovering my absence.
"Jack? What in God's name are you doing out on the sofa?"
"I couldn't get to sleep."
"After the session we had earlier, I figured you'd have passed out as quick as me, if not faster," she joked.
"We? The session we had?"
Wendy was puzzled. "Who else would I be talking about?"
"You have absolutely no idea, do you?"
Wendy just stared at me.
"You weren't making love to me tonight," I explained. "You were making love to Kevin. You called out his name tonight at least three times. You were so into the physical act tonight because, in your mind, you were having sex with Kevin and not me. Even though our bodies were joined, I was the furthest thing from your mind."
"That's not funny, Jack. I don't remember saying Kevin's name at all."
"Yeah, well I do. And it was pretty damned obvious."
"Why are you so obsessed with this? Why do you keep saying these things?"
"Because they keep happening, Wendy. And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. Look at it from my perspective. How do I compete with that? I love you more than life itself but I feel like I'm never going to have all of you. I feel like you're still tied to your old life and are still trying to hang on to Kevin no matter what it takes. I mean, you're screaming HIS name while you're making love to me! How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?"
Wendy was silent as she groped for something to say. Finally, all she could manage to spit out was, "I gotta work in a few hours. I'm going back to bed. If you're comfortable on the couch then stay there. But I am not going to discuss this idiotic bullshit anymore! When you finally start making sense, Jack, I'll be waiting for your apology!"
She stomped off back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. All I could do was just flop back on the sofa in frustration. Sleep, of course, did not come for the remainder of the night. Despite the incredible sex just a few hours ago, Wendy and I were drifting farther and farther apart.
I retreated to the basement and flipped on the TV to catch Sportscenter reruns and the early morning news shows. I gave Wendy a wide berth as she got ready to head to work, anxious to avoid another tense standoff.
I worked a 24-hour shift on Tuesday and then spent a couple of tense days at home on Wednesday and Thursday of that week. I tried to keep the peace as much as possible and had dinner ready for Wendy when she came home from teaching her classes. When we weren't eating lunch or supper, she kept busy preparing for college or spent most of her time in the bedroom reading a book. I ended up spending most of my time hanging out in the basement watching TV or playing Call of Duty. There were a number of projects around the house that I could have worked on but still felt like too much of a guest in the house to even offer a suggestion of remodeling, decorating or fixing something. There was a light fixture on the front porch that needed to be replaced. Wendy refused to allow me to fix it as she wanted to find the exact same style of fixture to replace it with. Why? Because she and Kevin had picked out that fixture themselves shortly after they moved in.
I was walking on egg shells daily and it was literally driving me nuts. The only time I didn't have acid pouring into my stomach was when I was either at work or when I was going out for a daily run. My daily runs were the only time I could divert my attention away from my crumbling home life and marriage. I was seriously getting tired of being the third wheel in this union. Sooner or later, we were going to hit a breaking point.
Friday, I was in the midst of a 24-hour shift when we got paged out to a house fire on the northwest side of Red River Falls. It was a fairly manageable room-and-contents fire that was contained primarily to the living room of a single-story bungalow. However, as we were making our egress from the home after knocking down the fire, the wooden front steps leading to the small porch gave way under my weight and collapsed. I didn't fall far but it was just enough to severely sprain my left ankle.
I was embarrassed more than anything. As an officer, I'm supposed to lead my firefighters by example. Even though it was beyond my control, no respectable firefighter likes to admit they're hurt and can't continue. I did my best to hobble on the foot as long as I could. But soon, I noticed that my ankle and foot were swelling to the point that it was going to be difficult to get my boot off.
Sure enough, I waited too long and a couple of our medics on scene had to cut the boot off, which ruined a $300 set of fire boots. I got a courtesy ride in one of our own department ambulances to Holy Family Medical Center. An X-ray revealed the sprain and no fractures, thank goodness. But I was ordered of work for at least a week, if not longer.
Once I made it back to fire headquarters, I was able to get in my truck and limp my way home. Thankfully, it was my left ankle that was injured so I could still use my right foot to help drive home. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when I pulled my truck into the driveway. I entered the garage through the side door and was surprised to see Wendy's car in the garage. I normally wouldn't expect her home until 3:30 or 4:00. I did my best to hobble my way into the house without too much of a racket, even though I was on crutches. Having been banged up on the job once or twice before, I was actually used to using crutches.
I made my way into the kitchen and didn't initially see any sign of Wendy, other than her car keys and purse lying on the kitchen counter. Walking towards the main hallway leading to our bedroom, I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom. I did my best to creep towards our room, which was no easy task with the crutches.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The door to the bedroom was barely cracked open. To my horror, I now realized that the sounds I was hearing coming from the bedroom was the unmistakable sound of a man and woman engaged in some really hot and passionate sex. There was a lot of oohing, aahing, moaning and other sounds of raw animalistic pleasure.

My heart was beating a million times a minute and a lump was quickly forming in my throat as I knew the only possible explanation was that Wendy was fucking someone in our own bed! How the hell could she do that? As bad as things were for us, how could she try and fix it by bringing another man home while I was at work? It was bad enough that she cried out for her dead husband while we were having sex. But how could she do this with another man?
I wanted to catch a glimpse of the bastard that was fucking my wife in our bed. I crept ever so close to the door, as silently as I could. The pain in my ankle was making me grimace and I had to desperately fight the urge to cry out. I leaned in toward the door and tried to glimpse through the thin opening. The sounds of sex were louder but there was something odd about it.
It didn't sound real. They sounded almost - recorded? When I was finally in position, I could see Wendy fully sprawled out on our bed spread eagle, her eyes clenched shut and a look of both pleasure and pain contorting her beautiful face. A medium-sized penis was sliding in and out of her sopping wet pussy - only it wasn't attached to a man. It was a dildo that Wendy was fucking herself into orgasmic bliss with. In Wendy's left arm, she was obviously clutching a large photo frame tightly to her chest.
The audio I was hearing was coming from the TV in our bedroom. Unmistakably, I was hearing the voice of Wendy and her late husband quite clearly.
"Oooooh, fuck me, Kevin! It feels so good when your cock is in my pussy!"
"Yeah? You like it when my cock is buried in your pussy?"
"Oh, yes, Kevin! My pussy aches for your cock! Ooooh, yeah! That's it! Give me that hard cock, my love!"
"Oh, God, your pussy feels amazing! My cock can't get enough of this amazing pussy!"
I was completely mesmerized by what I saw. I was overcome with lust on one hand, as evidenced by the growing erection in my pants, despite the pain in my left ankle. On the other hand, I almost felt like I was on the verge of tears. It was obvious that Wendy was clutching a photo of Kevin in her arms while she made love to him in her imagination and fucked herself stupid with the dildo - all while watching a private video that she and Kevin had made of themselves having sex.
Unconsciously, I had quietly opened the door further to give myself a better view of the macabre sex scene taking place in front of me. I had a ring-side seat to what I felt was yet another nail in the coffin of what I had once thought was going to be a marriage that dreams were made of. I had to be the only man on the face of the planet who was actually being cuckolded by a dead man. The thought only added to my increasing humiliation and embarrassment. Even in death, it appeared that Kevin was more capable of sexually satisfying my wife than I was.
I was deep in thought when Wendy apparently came down from her orgasmic peak long enough to open her eyes to get another glimpse of the action on the TV screen of her hot fuck session with Kevin. As she did, she instinctively cast a glance toward the door and saw me standing there. A gasp of horror followed by a brief shriek sent her scrambling from the bed and into the bathroom where she quickly slammed the door shut.
I felt stupid just standing there and so I turned and limped my way back toward the kitchen and living room. Alcohol suddenly seemed like an overwhelming necessity and I strained to get myself to the fridge and retrieve a tall bottle of Budweiser. The hospital had also given me a two-week supply of Percodan and I was suddenly hit with the urge to swallow the entire bottle and wash them down with a dozen bottles of beer. Or wine. Or booze. Or whatever type of quaff we had in the house. I didn't even know. And I cared even less.
It was over an hour later before I heard the bedroom door open. Blissfully, the home movie had ended just shortly after my discovery of Wendy. I was fully laid out in the new recliner that Wendy had bought me last week. By that time, I was into my fourth or fifth beer and the Percodan had finally begun to take its effect, along with a gigantic bag of ice I had on my left ankle to keep the swelling and pain down.
Wendy was dressed in her usual silk robe, clutching it shut with her hands to shield her body from me in shame. It seemed overly dramatic and a bit unnecessary, compared to what I had already seen earlier and the fact that we'd had sex several times. It wasn't like I didn't' know what she looked like naked.
"How...I mean,...what are you doing home?" she asked, fighting to hold back the tears.
"We had a house fire this morning," I said, slurring a bit from the beer and the pain meds. "A porch gave way and I fell about four or five feet through it. Twisted my ankle bad, sprained the hell out of it." I took another long pull from my Bud heavy.
"I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry. But...why didn't you call me?"
"Wasn't that big of a deal. They just took me in and got me an x-ray. I'm off work for a week or two and they gave me some pain pills."
"You...should have called me, Jack. You should have friggin' called me!"
"What, and not get to see the show back there?" I said, gesturing towards the bedroom. "Hell, I wouldn't have missed that for the world."
My stinging comment had Wendy's tears flowing. Even when she was crying, I couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked. Suddenly, I felt like an asshole for saying it. I was just about to apologize when Wendy gave me ample reason not to.
"It's your fault," she sobbed.
"What? Are you kidding me? How is it my fault that I came home from my dangerous-as-hell job, and walk into what is supposed to be OUR bedroom, only to find my beautiful wife fucking herself stupid with a dildo, holding a picture of her dead husband to her tits, while getting herself off watching a homemade porno of her and said dead husband? How that fuck is ANY of that MY fault?"
She thought for a few moments. "Because it is! Every time we make love you're always saying that I'm lusting after Kevin and crying out his name! That's all you've been talking about since we got married! You even said it on our wedding night, Jack!"
"Well, that's because it's true! You have been doing exactly that! I can't help it if you're so wrapped up in the fantasy of having sex with your deceased husband that you don't even realize what you're saying! But that doesn't make it untrue! That doesn't change the fact that I know what I heard and I know what you said!"
Wendy was sobbing uncontrollably now and had no answer.
"Why in the hell did you marry me, Wendy? It's obvious that you are nowhere near to being over what happened to Kevin. What in the hell possessed you to marry me?"
"Because I loved you, Jack. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," she sobbed.
"I can't help but notice how you used past-tense to say that. The question is, how do you feel about me now? Especially after what I saw today? Does that finally help it dawn on you what I've been saying the past few weeks?"
She was crying so hard now that she couldn't even muster an answer. I wanted to get up and console her on one hand but I also wanted to slap some sense in her with the other hand. But the beer and pain meds were having their effect and my gbangfruit-sized ankle was preventing me further.
All I could do was just watch in my dazed and confused state as Wendy stood up and ran back to the bedroom. I must have fallen asleep after a while but I had to listen to Wendy crying in our bedroom for over an hour, helpless to be able to do anything about it.
I wasn't too far gone from the beer and the pain meds because I was at least able to get up and hobble to the bathroom a couple of times that night to take a wicked piss. Or two. Or five. I don't remember but the beer and the pain meds went right through me.
I was still able to manage not to piss myself though and spent a very disturbing night on the recliner, continually icing down my ankle and drifting off to sleep with the help of my only friend in the world, Mister Budweiser.
There were nearly a dozen dead soldiers on the coffee table the next morning when I finally awoke. And my left ankle was cold and wet from continually being iced down all night. I was actually able to stand and bear a little weight on it, though, which was good news.
Wendy came into the kitchen about ten o'clock all dressed and ready to go. She looked good, complete with makeup, although her face still wore the battle scars from what happened yesterday.
"I made up some stuff for you to have for lunch, Jack, and also some leftovers for you to heat up for supper if you want," she said, very reserved.
"Where are you going? I thought maybe we could spend some time together today and just talk things out."
"Ed and Joanne invited me over. I'm going to be spending the day with them."
I was crestfallen. "I really think we need to spend some time together and trying to really communicate, Wendy. Won't you please stay with me today?"
She let out a long sigh. "I need some time with people I trust, Jack."
"What, suddenly you don't trust me anymore? What have I done to deserve that?"
"It's not that, Jack. I just need some space today to get my head cleared up. I think you and I just need a day apart to just...sort this out for ourselves before we bring it up with each other."
"Running away from this isn't going to make it better."
"I'm not running away," she said, gathering her purse and keys. "I'm just giving us some time to sort out how we feel for each other."
"I already know how I feel about you, Wendy. I love you and want to be with you. I just need to know that you're in this for better or for worse, just like me."
"I know, Jack. That's what I need to figure out. Look, I'll be home after supper. I gotta get going." And she headed out the door and into the garage. I watched her drive away and the house suddenly felt like more of a prison than it had before. I was pretty much stuck there, couldn't really leave and had no one to spend the day with. It was pretty much emotional solitary confinement.
The only thing I had in my favor that day was a mini-fridge in the basement that was fully stocked with beer. I had my favorite recliner in the world down there along with my giant-assed flat screen TV. After a lengthy shower, I decided to spend my recovery in the basement and treat myself to a long day of baseball games, guy-type movies and a steady supply of beer and Percodan. With my fucked up ankle, I had to scoot down the basement stairs on my ass.
After an hour or two of Wendy being gone, I actually started to feel marginally better and was quickly becoming more comfortably having some alone time. I still had a hard time wrapping my head round the events of the last two days but the beer and pain pills made the processing easier.
In addition to being a firefighter, I'm also a certified paramedic and spent a lot of my earlier career at RRFFD running ambulance calls. I always told my patients that pain meds do one of two things - they either take away your pain or they make you not give a shit that you're in pain. And, sometimes, not giving a shit about pain is just as good as not being in pain! Alcohol in generous amounts can, at times, have the same desired effect.
Wendy didn't get home that night until almost nine o'clock. I was still barricaded in my man cave watching the Minnesota Twins getting their clocks cleaned by Oakland, much to my dismay. But sports are still sports and I was at least enjoying the game.
Wendy didn't say much when she got home. We just stared at each other more or less and engaged in the perfunctory 'hi, how are you/how ya been' type of conversation. She then announced that she was tired from spending the day at Ed and Joanne's and that she was going to turn in. It was an obvious ploy to avoid the elephant in the room and I could tell that she was hiding something. But it was after nine and I wasn't in the mood for another knock-down drag-out fight, either.
She walked over, gave me a quick kiss and asked if I needed anything before she went upstairs. I said no and she left and I was once again alone with my ballgame and my own thoughts.
I wasn't too keen on spending yet another night in a recliner but I also couldn't stomach the thought of spending a night in bed with Wendy - not because I didn't want to sleep with or next to her - but because I still couldn't get the images out of my head of what I had seen take place in that bed a little over 24 hours earlier. And, so, it was in my favorite recliner that I spent yet another night. Oh, well. At least the beer was close and very cold.
I hobbled my way upstairs the next morning and cleaned up with a long shower, a fresh shave, and a clean set of clothes. I found Wendy in the kitchen, sitting at the table and eating a bowl of fresh fruit.
We exchanged the usual morning pleasantries, regarding each other, it seemed, more as formal acquaintances rather than as man and wife. I helped myself to a large bowl of Frosted Flakes and sat down at the table with her. As soon as I did, Wendy got very serious.
"Jack, I want to talk about something with you," she started, avoiding eye contact.
"Good. It's about time."
"Look, I know this probably isn't going to be easy for you," she said, my stomach sinking. "But Ed and Joanne are leaving this coming Wednesday for vacation. They're talking Greg, Bobby, Melinda, Nate and their families with them."
"Wow. Sounds like quite a trip. Where are they going?"
"They're going to Hawaii for ten days. And," she said, hesitating, "they invited me to go along with them."
I immediately put my spoon down as I absorbed her words. "Hawaii? For ten days?"
"Yes, Jack. Ed's mother was supposed to go along with them initially, but she just had a pacemaker put in last week and they're concerned about her flying so soon afterwards. So Geraldine is going to stay home and they asked me if I wanted to take her place."
First of all, I knew full well that having a pacemaker is a fairly routine and innocuous procedure. Sure, anything can happen, but it isn't very damned likely. The truth is that Ed and Joanne probably told that line of bullshit to Wendy and she believed it. Their plan was almost certainly to bring Wendy all along - probably to get her away from me.
"I take it there is only room for one. And I'm not invited," I replied coldly.
"You guys at the fire department have to pick your vacation so far in advance. You'd never be able to get the time off in such short notice, Jack."
"Yeah, I know that, Wendy."
"Look, I know you're probably upset, Jack, but this could turn out to be a good thing." Pssht. I could tell that even she didn't believe those words.
"So let me get this straight. After everything that happened on the day I got hurt, your way of dealing with it is to NOT deal with it and spend the day at Ed and Joanne's yesterday. And now, when we really need to communicate, spend some time together, and get our collective shit in a pile, you're gonna run off with Ed and Joanne and their family to Hawaii for ten days, leaving me here all alone and trying to get this mess figured out on my own!"
"I just think we need some time apart, Jack. We need to get our own heads straight before we can talk about us as a couple and work on our marriage."
"And you think this can best be accomplished on the beaches at Waikiki with Kevin's family?"
"Look, Jack. They're still my family, too! Just because Kevin is gone doesn't mean that my relationship with his family comes to an end!"
"No, it doesn't. And I would never expect it to. I just wish you were as focused on the family I was hoping we were starting when we got married as much as you focus on the family you had with Kevin."
"And we will, Jack. I promise! Just as soon as I get home. I know you're probably hurt by this and feel excluded but trust me. This could be good for both of us to have this time apart. You need to trust me, Jack."
"Jesus," I said, shaking my head. "We haven't even gotten to take a honeymoon yet and you're off to the tropics with Kevin's family."
"We still can, Jack. When we have our time off together in late August, I'll let you take me anywhere you want to. By that time, hopefully we will have gotten all our problems sorted out."
I just stared at her in disbelief. It was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing I was saying was getting through.
"I don't want you to go, Wendy. I really don't."
She was taken aback. "Are you trying to tell me I can't go?"
"No, I'm not. I don't own you, Wendy, and I can't tell you what you can and cannot do. I would never treat you that way. But you and I are at an early and critical time in our marriage. And we're on extremely thin ice. As I said yesterday, running away from me won't make this any easier. You're gonna go on a ten day vacation from your problems. I get to stay here and have to deal with them every day while you're gone."
"I have to deal with this situation the best way I know how, Jack."
"That's fine," I said, standing up from the table. "Just remember that any decisions you make might have a consequence you didn't intend. This situation is telling me a lot about your commitment to our marriage, Wendy."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jack? Is that some kind of a threat?"
"No, it isn't a threat at all, Wendy. You are making a decision to get away from me and our problems for a while. But you don't get to determine how I will react to your decision." I put my bowl in the sink and retreated downstairs.
We said little to each other the remainder of the day. I got a couple of buddies from the fire department to help me grab my old bed out of my storage rental and set it up in one of the spare bedrooms in the basement. I didn't feel like spending another night in a recliner or a sofa. I also grabbed my old bedroom dresser and essentially moved all of my stuff out of the master bedroom and into the basement spare room.
Wendy observed it all and said nothing. The next two days were extremely cool and icy. She taught her two remaining classes on Monday and Tuesday of that week and had a fellow Spanish instructor and teaching assistant fill in for her for the remaining classes of the summer. Since it was nearly the end of the term, her teaching assistant was more than capable of proctoring the final exam for her students. She spent the remainder of her time either packing for her trip with the Parmellys or shopping for things she would need on her trip. She told her superiors that she needed it for personal and mental health reasons. Surprisingly, they agreed.
My despair and loneliness grew minute by minute as she got closer to leaving. Greg and Bobby would drive their own families to the Minneapolis airport while Nate rode with Melinda and her fiancé. Wendy was going to be riding with Ed and Joanne.
I got out of bed at six on Wednesday morning and caught Wendy just as she was getting ready to head out the front door.
"What, you weren't even going to say goodbye?"
"Look, Jack, this isn't easy and I didn't want to make it harder than it is for you."
"Once again, you take the easy way out and just avoid me. Thanks. Thanks a lot," I said, sarcastically.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I'll call you the minute we land in Honolulu. I promise, okay?" I said nothing, only tears forming in my eyes. I felt like I was watching my whole life walking out the door.

"I can't promise I'll be here when you get home," I said. She seemed to take pause for a moment, but then mustered up some additionally resolve. Hell, even I didn't know if I meant it or not.
"I have to go. Ed and Joanne are waiting." She walked over, gave me a quick kiss on the lips and took her bags to Ed and Joanne's van. They greeted her with huge smiles and hugs and told her how thrilled they were that she was going with them.
As for me, I felt like the remaining pieces of my heart had shattered and fallen to the floor. I watched out the front window as they drove away. When they were gone, I collapsed on the sofa and wept for the next hour.
*****
I was absolutely miserable for the first two days she was gone. I was so hurt and pissed off that I never even answered the phone when she called to tell me that she had landed. All I could think about was the fact that my new bride was on a vacation with the family of her deceased husband. She was there by herself, without me, and also happened to be in the presence of her husband's very-much-single younger brother, Nate Parmelly.
It had been my suspicion for quite some time, ever since I met Ed and Joanne, that they were somehow concocting a way to get Wendy and Nate together, like some sort of biblical responsibility taken directly from the Old Testament. Perhaps that was why Nate always seemed to have that damned smirk on his face all the time, as if he knew all along that Wendy would someday be his and there was nothing I could do about it. Well, Wendy was now 5,000 miles away from home with Nate and the rest of the family. And Nate would be right. There was not a damned thing I could do about it.
I did my very best to keep active while she was gone. My stupid left ankle was still giving me fits but I was at least to the point where I could walk on it without the crutches. Ibuprofen was still my best friend (the Percodan was upsetting my stomach) with ice packs another close drinking buddy behind it. I was spending time at the Red River Falls Fire Department and working out in our small gymnasium, at least doing some lifting and cardio that didn't involve putting weight on my ankle. It would probably be another week before I could go back to work on light duty and then another two to three weeks before I could go back to work unrestricted.
By day three, I could sense that Wendy was starting to get a little paranoid by the fact that I wouldn't answer her calls. Truthfully, I wanted her to sweat a little bit. She had done everything she could to rationalize bailing on me and our marriage for ten days while she enjoyed some fun and sun in the tropics with her former in-laws. If there was some way I could stick it to her and the Parmellys just a little bit by making it less enjoyable for Wendy, then I knew that it would also be less enjoyable for the Parmellys if Wendy was having a shitty time.
By Saturday of that week, I was feeling good enough to get a little outdoor exercise. So I decided to go for a fairly lengthy walk. My ankle was sore but I was able to grit through a five mile walk. I was limping through the front door and into the kitchen when I noticed that the answering machine had a message on it. I was almost sure it was from Wendy and was tempted to hit 'erase' before listening to it. But curiosity got the better of me and I hit the play button.
"Yes, this is message is for Ms. Wendy Parmelly. Ms. Parmelly, this is Andrea calling from Northwestern Cryogenics. At your earliest convenience, please contact us at (595) 555-9285. Again, this is Andrea from Northwestern Cryogenics. Please call us at (595) 555-9285 at your earliest convenience. Thank you."
Northwestern Cryogenics? What the hell could that be about? I replayed the message again and made sure to write down the phone number. A quick call to the number confirmed a hunch that they wouldn't be open on the weekend but I wanted to make sure. I fired up my laptop and punched in a search for the company, which led me to their website.
The website looked pretty plain-Jane and didn't really say a whole lot. Basically, they offered a number of services from providing cryogenic gases and liquids, such as nitrogen, as well as cryogenic storage for a wide variety of biomedical services. I've always heard stories of people who have family members cryogenically frozen but I was pretty sure that wasn't the case as I had personally visited Kevin Parmelly's grave at Rosewood cemetery on numerous occasions with Wendy.
No, it would have to wait until Monday before I could call and satisfy my curiosity about this mysterious message. Just then, the home phone rang again and I picked it up without looking at the caller ID.
"Jack! I finally reached you, sweetheart!" It was Wendy, of course. She sounded relieved, almost as if she were thinking 'great, he's alive, now I can get back to enjoying my vacation'.
"Yes, you did. Do you need something, Wendy? I was just about to jump in the shower."
"Yes, Jack," she said, sounding put off. "I did need something. I need to talk to my husband. I called to find out how you were doing."
"Did you really call for that? Or did you just call to satisfy your conscious that you're trying to stay in touch with me for a few minutes so you can go and enjoy the rest of your spur-of-the-minute vacation with your ex-in-laws?"
"They're not my ex in-laws, Jack! I never got divorced from this family. There's a big difference!"
"Whatever. I doubt that Nate sees you as an in-law. He probably sees you as a gorgeous woman who is not currently in the company of her husband 5,000 miles away from home."
"Oh, my God! Is that what you think? You think I came all this way to have a fling with my own brother-in-law? Jesus, Jack! Nate is like a brother to me!"
"You know what, Wendy? It really doesn't matter what I think. You've proven to me time and again that what I think doesn't matter to you. So I guess it shouldn't matter to you what I think."
I could hear her sigh and choke up a bit on the other end. "Look, Jack. I don't want to fight. I'm going to use this time away to get my head cleared. And then when I get home, we're going to work this out, okay? Please, Jack. I don't want to fight."
Of course you don't, I thought. You want to have a clear conscience so you can have fun on your vacation.
"Look," she continued, "I have to get going. We're getting ready to leave for a tour of Pearl Harbor. Ed wants to see the USS Arizona. I'll call you again tomorrow, okay?"
"Fine."
"I love you, Jack."
"I wish I could believe that, Wendy."
"Jack, please don't be like that. You're hurting me."
"Go have fun with the Parmellys."
"Will you please talk to me tomorrow?"
"I'll be around," I said.
"Okay. Good bye, Jack. I love you."
"Good bye, Wendy." And I hung up. I'm sure she noticed that I didn't return her 'I love you'. Perhaps that would give her some more food for thought between now and tomorrow, if I even bothered to answer her. I still had a week to go before she got home and the longer she was gone, the more I was resenting her for being gone.
Sunday, I pretty much vegged out all day. The Twins were playing that afternoon and so I relaxed in my favorite recliner with a freshly stocked mini-fridge full of beer. The Twins played miserable but the cold beer helped ease the sting from the loss as well as the lingering pain and irritation from my ankle and my worsening situation with Wendy.
I knew that we were going to have to hash everything out once and for all. Even if Wendy put up a convincing argument - and I was pretty sure that she couldn't - we were still going to have to talk about the elephant in the room; her ongoing infatuation and fantasies with her deceased husband.
It still depressed me to think about what I walked in on last week. On one hand, it would have been incredibly erotic to watch her pleasure herself like that. It was always one of my biggest fantasies. There's nothing sexier than a woman who is willing to take charge of her own orgasm from time to time. But the huge downside was the fact that I wasn't even remotely a part of it.
I couldn't help but feel like Wendy was just using my physical body to try and somehow continue the life that she had with Kevin. I mean, we had spent more time with Kevin's family since we got married than we even did with Wendy's family or my own family. It was pretty damned depressing, that's for sure.
I never heard the upstairs phone ring on Sunday evening, so Wendy tried to reach me on my cell. I looked at the caller ID and just didn't feel like answering it. I had a nice buzz going, courtesy of Mister Budweiser, and didn't feel like ruining it with another depressing conversation with Wendy. A couple minutes after she called, she tried texting.
Don't shut me down, Jack. I needed this time away to think. I also did you a favor by giving you some space.
Wow. She just totally didn't get it. I texted back:
You call this a favor? You and I have different ideas of favors. That's like
amputating a leg for a sprained ankle.
Apparently she didn't like the response.
You're taking this way too hard, Jack. And blowing everything out of
proportion.
Blowing everything out of proportion?
Then what the hell do you call what I walked in on last week when I came
home from work after getting hurt? How would you feel if you walked in
on me watching a homemade porno with an ex-girlfriend while jerking off
in our marital bed? We still haven't even come close to talking about
THAT!
It was nearly ten minutes before she wrote back.
That is totally unfair! Yes, I'm sure it was weird for you to see, Jack. I
can't just forget about Kevin. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed
the release. You can't possibly understand until someone you love as
much as I loved Kevin gets violently taken away from you! I don't expect
you to understand. But you have no right to expect me to just forget,
either!
I didn't even bother to respond. I just turned the phone off completely, grabbed another beer and flipped the channel from Fox Sports North to ESPN to watch the Sunday night game. It was the Yankees and the Red Sox - two teams I didn't really care for all that much, but I couldn't help watching them play when I got the chance just because of how much the two teams can't stand each other.
As that fat bastard C.C. Sabathia delivered the opening pitch, I couldn't help but think of something my Dad told me long ago: Never argue with a crazy woman. They'll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.
Wendy was taking crazy to a whole new dimension. I just had to decide if I was willing to let her take me along for the ride.
*****
I went for another long walk Monday morning, nearly ten miles. The ankle held up pretty okay with the ankle brace. It was almost noon by the time I got back home, grabbed the mail from the box, and headed back inside. Looking at the home phone reminded me of the message from that Northwestern Cryogenics place. I quickly retrieved the number and dialed.
"Northwestern Cryogenics, this is Andrea. May I help you?" She sounded very pleasant.
"Yes, my name is Jack Fitzgerald. I'm calling on behalf of my wife, Wendy Parmelly. You left a message with her this past weekend?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Fitzgerald. I meant to call her on Friday but I got busy with a department meeting. I was in the office on Saturday for a bit and wanted to at least let her know I called."
"I understand. Unfortunately, Wendy isn't here right now and won't be home for a while. I was wondering if there was a message or something I could relay for her."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald. But HIPAA rules stipulate that I can only speak with your wife. I apologize."
"I understand," I said. Damn! "I'll see if I can get her to contact you later today or something."
"Very well, Mr. Fitzgerald. Thank you for calling."
Weird. I was no closer to solving this little mystery. She talked about HIPAA rules. As a firefighter and paramedic, I was very much aware of what the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act was and what it meant. Among a gazillion governmental laws and regulations, the most prominent feature of HIPAA was the patient's rights to privacy. It spelled out very specifically what personal health information could be shared and who it could be shared with. It also identified stiff penalties to individuals and organizations who inappropriately shared a person's personal health information.
So, whatever Wendy's business was with Northwestern Cryogenics, I would have to be a bit sneaky if I wanted to dig deeper. Against my better judgment, I did.
I contacted the fire station to see if a friend of mind, Monica Banner, was working today. Monica was a firefighter/paramedic on my shift. She is a helluva firefighter, a terrific medic, and just a great all-around person. Even though she was only one of three females on our department, she was very much just one of the guys. I'd never tell her this, but she is also smoking hot. Very fit and active and big into Tough Mudder competitions and women's Triathlons. She's already run marathons in ten states and plans to eventually complete one in all fifty states.
Monica and I were also great friends. Shamefully, for some reason, I never really let on to Wendy how good of friends we really were. Absolutely nothing sexual between Monica and I. But for some reason, I just never really divulged to Wendy that Monica is one of my best friends.
I stopped down at the fire station that afternoon. I hadn't heard from Wendy all day and I assumed she was still pissed at me over our text exchange from the night before. Monica had just gotten back from an ambulance call and was finishing her medical run report when I stopped in.
"Hey! Look at you, gimpy! Nice of you to drop by," she said as I hobbled into the station.
"Wow! If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were happy to see me!"
We chit-chatted for about fifteen minutes or so, just exchanging pleasantries and small talk about the goings on at Red River Falls Fire Department. But Monica could sense that I had an ulterior motive for stopping by to see her.
"So, what's the real reason you stopped by, Jack? How's married life treating you?"
She could see the dejected look cross my face and she became concerned.
"Not so good, actually. In fact, it is becoming more and more apparent that I have made the worst mistake of my life," I said.
Monica wasted no time grabbing some coffee for us from the kitchen. Then we went and sat down in a small office and talked. For about twenty minutes straight, I did nothing but talk while Monica sat there and absorbed every word. She never said anything, never offered an opinion or a suggestion. She just sat and listened. I even brought up the mystery of Northwest Cryogenics and told her that I couldn't explain why it bothered me so much.
"So, what can I do to help?" she asked.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if you would be willing to pretend to be my wife."
"Huh? Seriously? What's the angle?"
"I can't talk to this gal from Northwest Cryogenics. It's a HIPAA violation if she shares anything with me. But she might actually think you are Wendy if you call. I can give you Wendy's information so that this place will actually think they're talking to her."
"I dunno, Jack. This is kind of weird."
"Please, Monica. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. My marriage is hanging by a thread right now. I just need some peace of mind right now."
Monica thought for a few moments. "Okay, Jack. But you owe me a steak for this!"
"Deal!"
We went downstairs to the basement and used my smart phone to contact Northwestern Cryogenics. Luckily, they were still open for another hour yet.
"Northwestern Cryogenics, this is Andrea. How can I assist you?"
"Uh, yes. This is Wendy Fitzgerald. I had a message to contact you?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't have a Wendy Fitzgerald in our system. Are you sure you contacted the right number?"
Monica covered the phone with her hand. "What do I do?" she whispered.
"Oh, shit! Tell them you're Wendy Parmelly. You got re-married."
"Uh, Wendy Fitzgerald is my married name. I'm registered under Wendy Parmelly."
"One moment, please." We could hear the click of computer keys in the background. "Ah, yes. Here it is. Could I please have you verify your date of birth and social security number?"
Monica gave Wendy's birthdate and SSN from a piece of paper.
"Very good, Ms. Parmelly. The reason I am calling is to verify that your request has been processed and your cryo package has been shipped. It will arrive at its destination tomorrow."
"Have her verify the destination," I whispered.
"Could you please verify the destination of the package?" Monica asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Your package is scheduled for delivery to McMillan Women's Clinic in Red River Falls and is addressed to a Doctor Virginia Howard."
Monica looked at me quizzically. "Thank you. And can you tell me what all is in those packages?"
"Excuse me?" Andrea asked.
"The packages," Monica continued. "Can you confirm what is being shipped to the clinic?" Ooh! Good question, I thought.
"Well," Andrea continued, sounding confused. "The packages contain five vials of preserved donor semen."
Monica's jaw dropped in shock. I could feel the blood drain from my own face.
"Uh, can you tell me about the donor?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"The donor," Monica said. "Can you tell me about the donor?" God, I hope she wasn't giving too much away.
"Ms. Parmelly, the sperm was donated and banked by your husband, Kevin Parmelly."
Monica's face went as white as mine. All I could do was slump down in my chair at the revelation.
"Okay, thank you..." she said, her voice trailing off.
"Will there be anything else, Ms. Parmelly?"
"No. That will be all. I'll call the clinic tomorrow. Thank you."
I punched the icon to end the call. Monica and I looked at one another in horror and disbelief. Wendy had requested sperm samples from her deceased husband to be delivered to a clinic in Red River Falls. But what the hell could it mean? Surely, it couldn't mean that she intended to somehow get pregnant from her deceased husband, could it? But on the other hand, what the hell else could it mean?
"Jack, I'm so sorry. I...I have...absolutely...no idea what to say."
I was at a loss for words. "I guess I have some more investigating to do."
"Is Wendy on her own insurance through the college or is she on our plan through the city?"
I thought for a moment. "She dropped her insurance when we got married. It costs a lot less for her to be on my plan."
"Can you contact Blue Cross and find out what is going on? If she were to actually do something like this, it would have to get run through insurance. In vitro fertilization costs like $30,000 to $40,000 a pop and our insurance only lets you try twice. I assume you don't have that kind of money lying around and neither does she, right?"
"Oh, hell no, I don't. I'd never be able to afford that - especially after I dropped a twenty grand down payment on my truck and camper last year. Wendy on the other hand, might have some money left from Kevin's life insurance. I know she used most of it to pay off their house after he died."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"If I were you," Monica suggested, "I'd contact Blue Cross and find out if she had that planned or not. If it was run through insurance, surely they'd have to share at least some of that information with you, wouldn't they?"

"I dunno, for sure. I would surely think so, but you never know about these HIPAA laws, ya know?" Monica nodded in agreement.
"God, Jack. What a mess! I know it's early yet, but what do you think you'll do?"
I just sat there, shaking my head. "I don't know, Monica. I really don't. If this turns out to be true, and she is planning on getting pregnant with Kevin's child, then I can unequivocally say we are done. There will be absolutely no coming back from this. I won't tolerate being forced to raise another man's child, especially one whose father has been dead for four years."
Monica just looked at me sympathetically, marveling at the Jerry Springer-type drama that seemed to be falling upon me.
"The only thing I can do is try and call the insurance company and the clinic tomorrow."
"Jesus, Jack. I honestly don't know what to say. I'm at a loss for words."
"Yeah, me too. Look, I better get out of here and go clear my head somewhere."
"Jack, we're off duty tomorrow. I don't have anything planned. If you need my help some more, I'll do anything you need, okay?"
"Thanks, Monica. As much as I hate to say it, I might have to take you up on that."
"I'm here for you, Jack. That's what firefighters, do."
"I know, Monica. Thanks a ton." We both stood, looked at each other for a few moments, and then fell into a tight embrace. We held each other for a while and I fought as hard as I could not to cry.
I lost.
*****
Monday night yielded only a text from Wendy.
Is now an okay time to talk?
I couldn't believe she just sent me a text asking me if we could talk. Why not just pick up the damned phone? What the hell is so hard about that? I wondered where in the hell the aggressive, assertive version of Wendy was that I had gotten to know and had fallen in love with. Even though it almost certainly meant a knock-down, drag-out fight I wished like hell that she would just come out and confront everything that was going wrong in our marriage - including the episode of me walking in on her masturbating to a homemade porn tape.
If you have to text me to ask if it is okay to talk, then it probably isn't
okay to talk. Have fun with Nate and the rest of the Parmellys.
I never heard back from her, so I assumed she got the point. I met Monica the next morning at our local Starbuck's. I grabbed a tall black coffee and she ordered tea and we found an empty booth in a quiet corner.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I have to. I need to find out what she is up to."
"My God," Monica said, as she started dialing the clinic. "This whole thing is like something off a really bad television show."
"Tell me about it," I said. "I keep waiting for tickets to Jerry Springer to show up in the mail."
We both turned out attention to the phone's speaker as we heard someone answer. "McMillan Clinic, this is Stephanie. How may I help you?"
"Uh, yes, this is Wendy Parmelly," Monica lied. "I'm calling to verify my appointment with Doctor Howard."
"One moment please," Stephanie said. "Yes, Ms. Parmelly. I have an IVF consult with Doctor Howard scheduled for next Tuesday."
"I'm sorry," Monica said. "What type of appointment did you say?"
"An IVF consultation, ma'am. In Vitro Fertilization, correct?" Even though she expected, Monica was still stunned. All I could do was just close my eyes in shame and frustration. "Ma'am? Are you still there?" Stephanie asked.
"Uh, yes. Yes, I'm still here."
"Will there be anything else?"
Monica looked at me for an answer. I mouthed the word "insurance" to her.
"Oh, yes," Monica replied. "I was wondering if this was going to get billed to my insurance or not. I have Blue Cross through the city of Red River Falls."
"One moment please. I'll check the account instructions," Stephanie said. After about a minute of checking, she replied, "it looks like this account is being billed through a private payer."
"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't expecting that. Can you confirm who this is being billed to?" Monica asked.
"Did you not make this payment arrangement, Ms. Parmelly?"
"Uh, yes, I did, but I just want to make sure everything is correct," Monica groped, rolling her eyes in panic and frustration.
Stephanie sounded skeptical. "Sure, Ms Parmelly. Can I just have you verify some information for me?"
"Absolutely."
"Can I have you verify your social security number, your insurance carrier and plan number, your home address and your home and mobile numbers listed on the account? It isn't being billed to your insurance carrier but I just need the info for identification."
"I sure can," Monica replied, relieved. She read everything verbatim off the instructions I had given her the day before along with the rest I had written down in anticipation of verification of her identity.
"Thank you, Ms. Parmelly," Stephanie said, sounding satisfied. "According to the account, pre-payment for the consultation and procedure has been made by Mister Ed Parmelly."
Son of a bitch! I knew it! I slammed my fist down on the table in frustration. I immediately tried to compose myself as my actions drew the attention of everyone in the coffee shop.
"Thank you, Stephanie. I appreciate all your help," Monica said, taking my hand in her own and desperately trying to comfort me.
"No problem, Ms. Parmelly. We'll see you next week!"
"Oh, God, Jack! I...I don't even know what to say."
"Let's just get the hell out of here."
We left the Starbucks and headed back out to my truck. It was all I could do to keep from hyperventilating. My marriage as I knew it was dead. It had been a complete lie. The woman I had intended to marry and spend the rest of my life with had apparently married me with the intention of getting pregnant with her deceased husband's cryogenically frozen sperm and raising the child as mine...with the full knowledge of Ed and Joanne Parmelly.
I was effectively being cuckolded by Kevin Parmelly...from beyond the grave!
We drove in silence back to the fire station so Monica could get her vehicle. As she got out, she turned and said, "Hey, Jack. Do you wanna come over to my place for a bit? I can throw on another pot of coffee and we can just sit and talk if you want."
I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer, Monica. But I've gotta head back and start getting some things straightened out."
"What are you going to do, Jack?"
I let out a long sigh. "Well, I guess the first thing I'm going to do is call my old landlord and find out if I can get my old apartment back or one like it. Once I've got that straightened out, it's just a matter of getting my stuff moved out of Wendy's house and picking up the rest of my stuff from the storage rental."
Monica just stood there and nodded. "Jack," she started, unsure of what to say, "please keep me posted. Update me on how you're doing and let me know if you're okay. You know I'm here for you, anything you need. If you need help moving your stuff, just let me know. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise."
"I know, Monica. Right now, besides my parents and my sister, you're the one person I know that has my back in this."
"Damned right I do," she said, managing a smile. Monica is a total tomboy. But she also has an incredible smile. I don't think I'd ever break my own rule about never dating anyone I work with and, especially, never dating anyone who is a subordinate of mine. That shit never works out well, it seems. But if I ever DID break that rule, I'd seriously consider breaking it with Monica.
There was just one little problem with that idea - we were all pretty certain Monica is a lesbian!
*****
I contacted my old landlord, Kendrick Realty and Management, shortly after I left Monica at the fire station. Regrettably, my old apartment had already been leased. However, Allison Kendrick, the vice-president of the company, knew me and offered me a really sweet deal. Since there were no remaining ground floor units available, she offered to rent me an apartment on the second floor for the same price as the ground floor I had previously. This was a great deal as my original apartment was only a one-bedroom apartment and the second floor apartments were all two and three-bedroom apartments. The one she gave me was a pool-side entrance three-bedroom apartment. I would be saving about $300 a month because of the difference.
I ended up just getting an overnight rental on a small U-Haul. I was more than confident I could get all of my stuff from Wendy's house and then return for all my stuff at the storage rental.
True to her word, Monica showed up to help me move and even brought some friends with her. Thankfully, they were people I didn't really know that well. I wasn't ready yet to spill the beans of my failed marriage to all of my fellow firefighters and medics yet. Although I knew they would be caring and respectful, I also knew they would probably avoid me like the plague as firefighters and cops generally had a reputation as being total bastards when they were going through a divorce. I had no reason to think I would be any different.
Around one o'clock, we were just getting my sectional theater sofa loaded in the U-Haul when my phone buzzed. I looked at it and saw an incoming call from Wendy. I started at it while it buzzed three or four more times and reluctantly decided to answer.
"Yes?"
"Well, good morning to you, too," she said, feigning indignation.
"Is it?"
"I hope so, Jack. I didn't like the way last night ended between us."
"I didn't either, Wendy. The problem is, I don't really like the way today is starting out any better."
"Jack, I told you already. I really needed this time away. It has really given me some time to clear my head and re-focus on what's important."
I just shook my head. "You're amazing, you know that?"
"Why, thank you, Jack," she said, her voice softening.
"That wasn't a compliment."
She paused. "Well, what was it then?" she asked, disappointed.
"It's amazing that we dated for as long as we did, took things as painfully slow as we did, only to realize afterward that I still have absolutely no fucking idea who you are!"
She gasped. "Jack! How can you say such a thing! I called to see how you are because I care about you! I wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you!"
"That's funny, Wendy."
"Why?"
"Because someone else called while you've been gone."
"Who?"
I paused for effect. "Northwestern Cryogenics. Kevin's spermsicles will arrive at McMillan Clinic this week. Your appointment with Doctor Howard is all set and paid for. Being a single mother is a tough job, Wendy. I wish you the best of luck." The last thing I heard before ended the call was a distinct gasp of horror.
*****
As soon as I hung up on Wendy, I returned to my group of friends to finish loading my stuff into the U-Haul. My phone starting blowing up with repeated phone calls and text messages from Wendy demanding to talk to me. I could not have been in less of a mood to speak with her and I just wanted to focus on getting my shit together and getting the hell out of there. The house had never belonged to me, anyway. I was nothing more than an uninvited guest there, living in the shadow of a ghost.
We ended up taking my stuff back to the same storage rental unit most of it had come out of when I tried to carve out a little niche of my own in Wendy's house. That same storage center also had a large parking lot where I stored my camper. Calling it a camper is sort of an injustice. It is a large 35-foot Coachmen fifth-wheel trailer that I bought at the same time I got my truck. I like to travel and like to go see interesting places. The fifth-wheel is the reason I bought my F-250.
As soon as I got everything dropped off back at the storage center, I hooked up to fifth-wheel and hauled it down to Gallagher State Park, which is a very nice and scenic area along the Red River. In addition to lots of woods, scenery, fishing spots and nature trails, GSP has a tremendous campground and RV lot with full hook-ups, including waste and sewer. Seasonal memberships at the park were only $1500 a year, which is a steal.
I was in luck as they still had an open lot. Rich Sherman, the park ranger, let me rent the lot for the remaining season for only $500. That just meant that I had until October 1st to remove it to avoid paying for a full season the following year. Some people bought and traded campers and seasonal memberships like real estate. There are trailers and fifth-wheels that probably haven't been moved in 10 or 15 years, if not longer.
It was supper time when I finally finished getting the fifth-wheel set up and got the electric, water and sewer lines in place. It was nice not having to worry about my levels of potable water, gray water and black water and having to find a dump station every few days.
There was a nice fire ring between my lot and the adjacent one, along with a park-supplied picnic table. I had already set out a few folding chairs and decided to strike up a fire, pull up a chair and just have a couple of hotdogs for supper. Maybe I'd even treat myself to a s'more or two afterwards.
With a nice spot in my comfy over-sized Coleman folding chair and a Bud heavy in my hand, I finally pulled out my phone and saw that I missed over 30 phone calls from Wendy and nearly 45 text messages begging me to talk to her. The last text message she sent said "Please don't let the day end without talking to me, Jack!"
My emotions were way to raw right now to have a conversation with her. It didn't occur to me earlier to shut off the GPS tracker on my phone and disable the app for it, but I did now. I doubt Wendy had the presence of mind to bother with looking me up, since she obviously knew I was still in Red River Falls and she was in Hawaii with the Parmelly clan. But an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure and I disabled the GPS to keep her from tracking me down the minute she got back home. I decided to send her one last text before shutting my phone down.
"Not going to talk right now because I don't know what to say. There are no words to describe this situation. Hurt doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling. But then again I suppose it shouldn't hurt at all to lose you because it now looks more and more like I never had you to begin with."
I was just about to power off the phone when it buzzed.
"Please don't shut me out, Jack! It isn't like what you said. I can explain everything! I promise! We need to talk! If you don't want to talk over the phone because you don't want to hear me, then at least chat by text!"
I wrote back: "My emotions are shot. I cannot have this conversation now. I am exhausted from the stress of getting hurt at work and now from having to deal with this. I need to get some decent rest without the use of alcohol or pain meds. And there is zero point in having this conversation when we're 4 or 5 thousand miles apart. Good night."
She then wrote: "I'm coming home tomorrow on the first available flight. We will get this straightened out. I never should have come on this trip! WTF was I thinking?"
That's exactly what I had been thinking all along! WTF??? She wasn't going to like my reply. "Don't bother coming home early. I already moved out and secured a new place to stay. Not ready to deal with this shit storm yet, anyway. Coming home early won't help."
I punched off the phone and plugged it into my charger for the night. After a couple of Ballpark franks and another beer, I spent the next couple of hours just listening to some music and enjoying the fire before calling it a night. I decided to forgo a shower and just climbed the stairs into the forward cabin and crashed on the big queen-sized bed.
With four full slide-outs on my Coachman fifth-wheel, the place suddenly felt huge as the enormity of my loneliness encompassed me. I realized in that moment that it was a hell of a lot better to be lonely by myself than to be miserable in a marriage where your wife still pines for her deceased first husband. The stereo was still playing as I lay there in bed. I'm a classic rock-and-roll guy and the song "One" by Three Dog Night began playing softly over the speakers.
"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do. Two can be as bad as one; it's the loneliest number since the number one."
Yeah, the story of my fucking life.
*****
I ended up sleeping like a rock that night. I think it was probably because of the fact that I was in a place that was definitely my own and I didn't have to compete with phantoms, specters and ghosts for anyone's attention. The only thing I regretted at the moment was the fact that I didn't have a dog or something to keep my company.
I spent about three hours that morning going for a short early swim and taking a long walk on the hiking trails around Gallagher Park. It wasn't until about 10:30 or so that I even remembered that I hadn't turned my cell phone back on. Just for good measure, I made doubly sure that I had turned the GPS tracker off, which I had.
One of the first things I noticed was that my voicemail inbox was full and there were over 30 text messages sent since I got off the phone with Wendy last night. They were the usual run-of-the-mill messages you would expect from a panicking wife - telling me how much she loved me, how much she needed me and how I had the whole situation completely wrong. According to Wendy, this was all just a misunderstanding and a gross miscommunication. I read the last text message she sent the night before.
"Booked a flight. Land at MSP tomorrow 5 pm. Back in RRF around 9. Please be waiting at home. I love you, Jack."
I was just about to empty my entire text message inbox when my phone buzzed again.
"Getting on the plane now. On my way home. See you soon. United Flight 5549, if you want to meet me at MSP. Will you please? Would love for your face to be the first one I see, Jack."
Boy, she really knew how to tug at the old heart strings, I'll give her that. I decided to just stay close to the campground for most of the week, before moving back into my apartment. One thing dawned on me, though, and that was that I needed to have a talk with my parents about what was happening with me and Wendy. My parents are both newly retired and basically just enjoying life, so I knew they would probably be around.
Sure enough, my Dad answered the phone and could tell immediately that something was wrong. He invited me over to their house for supper that night and I told them I had some things to talk about that they probably wouldn't like hearing.
I got to their place that night around 5 o'clock. Dad was waiting for me on the front porch. My Dad, Jim Fitzgerald, was around 6'1 and 220 pounds. He was a full-blooded Irishman to the last cell in his body. Saint Patrick's Day in our home growing up was about as important as Christmas and Easter. The three most important things in his life were his family, his former work and Notre Dame football.
My mother, Sandra, was fixing supper when I walked in the house. She, too, immediately sense something was wrong, most notably that Wendy wasn't with me. I hadn't even bothered to tell them that Wendy had taken an unannounced trip to Hawaii with the Parmellys.
"You look like shit, Jack," my father observed.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Well, if I look anything on the outside the way I feel on the inside, I'm sure you're probably right."

My mother stepped away from the stove to join us. "I've got a brisket in the oven. Are you hungry, Jack?"
"I'm always hungry for your food, Mom."
"I notice you've got a bit of a hitch in your giddy up," Dad said.
"Yeah, I had a rough day at work last week. Fell through the front porch of a house and sprained my ankle pretty bad."
"Oh, my God! You got hurt? Was it a fire?" My Mom had a tendency to overreact to little things.
"Well, yeah, it was a fire but I'm alright. Just a crappy old house and the porch was even crappier. It could've happened to anyone. Just a sprain, that's all. I'll be back to work in a few days."
"God, I hate your job sometimes, sweetie," she soothed.
"Really, Mom. It's no big deal. I'm fine."
"Well," my Dad interjected, "something is obviously not fine. You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, son."
"I guess you could say that."
"Well, spill it. What's going on?"
I let out a sigh. "It's Wendy. Ever since the wedding and moving in together, we've been a million miles apart. Nothing seems to be working and my marriage is falling apart before it even begins."
"Uh-oh," my Dad said, getting up from his chair. "Looks like we're gonna need beer to deal with this." He went to the fridge and grabbed two Sam Adams Boston lagers. "You want one?" he said, gesturing to my mother. She shook her head. My mother hardly drank and never drank beer. But my Dad still always offered, never wanting to drink alone. Typical Irishman.
I took a pull off the heady ale, wondering why I still insisted on Bud heavy. I waited a few moments and then said, "I think Wendy and I might be separating."
"Jesus, Jack," my Dad spat. "You haven't even been married for two months! What the hell brought all of this on?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Aw, hell, Jack. You obviously didn't come over here to talk about the damned weather!"
"It's just that...well...I don't know, Dad. I can't help but feel like Wendy has never gotten over what happened to Kevin. And she is still really tight with the Parmellys. So much so, in fact, that she spends more time with them than she does me. Christ, she spends more time with them than she does her own family, even."
"But Jack," my Mom interrupted, "you can't just expect her to cut off all ties with them. They were a huge part of her life. And you can't just expect her to erase her life with Kevin, either."
"I don't expect her to, Mom. I just wish she would put as much of a priority on me and my family as she does the Parmellys. Hell, I wish she made her own family that much of a priority!"
"Does any of this have to do with Ed Parmelly?" Dad asked.
"It has A LOT to do with Ed. He has been nothing but super critical of me ever since Wendy and I started dating. I'd rather dig out my own kidney with a fork than have to spend time with him."
"Yeah, he was kind of a prick that day we were over at your house," Dad observed.
"That's another thing, too. The house doesn't even feel like mine. Wendy pretty much refused to let me bring any of my stuff in the house when we got married. I had to put it all in storage. Finally, I got so fed up with it that I brought some of my things over and made my man cave in the basement. Ed just about shit when he saw that. He was totally pissed that we put Kevin's recliner in a spare bedroom."
"But it's your house now, too, Jack. You've gotta put your foot down about some things."
"I know, Dad. But every time I do, it just seems to drive Wendy farther away. Like Mom said, I think Wendy sees it as me trying to drive a wedge between her and her previous life."
"I couldn't help but notice the wedding pictures," Mom said.
"Yeah, that's another thing. Wendy put up our wedding pictures but she still has all of her wedding pictures of her and Kevin on the wall. And she made sure that all of her and Kevin's pictures were placed higher on the wall than the ones of my and Wendy's wedding."
"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Mom said.
"No, but it is still just really weird. I feel like I'm living in the shadow of Kevin's ghost all the time. I'm always second best and I can't seem to stay on Wendy's good side. I am NEVER going to be welcome around the Parmellys, and things just keep getting worse each and every day."
"Where is Wendy right now?" Dad asked. My pained silence was obvious. "Well?"
"She's on her way back from Hawaii right now."
"Hawaii??? What is she doing in Hawaii?" my Mom demanded.
"She took a last minute trip with the entire Parmelly clan. Supposedly, Ed's mother was supposed to go but couldn't because she had a pacemaker put in a week before the trip. Personally, I think it was a bullshit excuse to try and get Wendy to go along."
"And she went along without you?"
"Believe me, Dad. I tried to convince her not to go. But with everything else that had happened, she felt she needed to go so each of us could have some space to sort things out. At least, that's what she said anyway. Personally, I think she just wanted to relive the good old days with the Parmellys. I have no doubt that Ed and Joanne would probably love to see her get hooked up with their son, Nate. He's the only single kid they have left."
My Dad leaned in. "You said 'everything else that happened' just a minute ago. What else has happened since you got married, Jack?"
At that point, I started to break down in front of my own parents. As distasteful as it was, I started to spill my guts and tell them everything. The family picnic at the Parmellys where I was all but ignored, even by Wendy. I told them about her calling out Kevin's name during intimacy. And, yes, I even gave them the rundown on catching her reliving her sexual escapades with Kevin in our own bed.
Both of them were absolutely shocked and horrified when I told them that it appeared that Wendy had every intention of getting pregnant with Kevin's sperm as soon as she got back from Hawaii. It took me a good twenty minutes or so.
When I finished, my Dad just sat back in his chair and let out a long, slow whistle of disbelief. Mom just sat there, staring at the table in embarrassment and shock.
After several awkward moments of tense silence, my Mom finally spoke. "Jack, you know we will support you in whatever you decide to do. I truly, truly hope for your and Wendy's sake that it doesn't come to a divorce. But maybe what Wendy needs is understanding. Understanding from you that you know how tough it is to lose someone you love."
"Yeah, that brings up an interesting point," Dad added. "What did Wendy say when you told her about Connie?"
Suddenly, the little bit of confidence and courage I was gaining from opening up to my parents completely evaporated. I hadn't expected the conversation to take a turn like this.
"Well?" my Dad prodded.
"I...didn't...I mean, I...never told her."
My Dad leaned in with a look of utter horror on his face. "WHAT? You never told her about Connie???"
"Oh, Jack," my Mom said, tearing up. "Why would you hold that back from her, sweetheart?"
"I guess...I just didn't want her to think it would be an issue."
"Jesus, Jack," Dad spat. "How did you think it wouldn't be an issue?"
"I don't know, Dad! I just didn't want her to think I was dwelling on that part of my life!"
"You're thirty-five years old, Jack! You were twenty-two when it happened. You wanna talk about someone who was living in the past and couldn't let go of it, we could damned easy be talking about you!"
"I just didn't want Wendy to think I wasn't over it, Mom and Dad."
"You weren't over it, Jack. And I'm gonna tell you something. If you're going to lord this issue with Kevin over Wendy's head, you had better be ready for an absolute shit storm from her when she finds out you didn't tell her!"
The pain of my spiraling marriage to Wendy, combined with the renewed memories of Connie were the catalyst to the flood gates opening. I released a torrent of tears and sobbing the likes of which I hadn't done since Connie's funeral. Mom realized there was nothing she could do other than to come over and hug me and cry with me.
My Dad sighed, leaned forward and took my hand in his. "I know I don't tell you this enough, Jack. But I love the absolute shit out of you. You've got yourself a real mess here, son. I wish I had an answer on how to fix it. I don't. But I do know that you've gotta level with Wendy. You've gotta let her know how this is affecting you. And you gotta let her know about Connie, too. Then she'll know that you understand how it feels."
I spent the rest of the evening in the company of my parents. We talked some more about Wendy and me but spent most of the evening just spending time with each other. As I get older, I've come to realize that there are most likely fewer days ahead in this world for my parents than there are behind them. I realized that I just don't spend enough time with them and there will undoubtedly come a day when I come to deeply regret that. No matter what happened with me and Wendy in the long run, I was definitely going to change that.
As I got ready to leave my parents' house that night, it became painfully obvious to me that I was really in no shape to drive as my Dad and I had polished off the better part of three six-packs of the Sam Adams. Mom wasted no time in fixing up my old room and I relished how the feel of the bed I slept in growing up felt more comfortable than that of the finest five-star hotels. As I nestled in under an old quilt my grandmother made, I checked my phone one last time and saw that I missed several calls from Wendy. She was obviously back in Red River Falls. The last thing I got was a text saying:
"Back in town. Looking all over for you. Where are you???"
I simply typed back "Somewhere safe. Stop looking. I'll see you when I'm ready to see you."
*****
I got back to the campground the next morning and discovered that Wendy had obviously been there. There was a handwritten note taped to the door of my fifth-wheel.
Jack,
Please don't keep running from me. I had no idea you would take me being gone so hard. I thought it was best for us to clear our heads. Now I see that I was wrong. You didn't have to move out. I never wanted that! If you won't come home, then at least tell me where you are or some place we can meet to talk! Please don't shut me out! You have nothing to be sorry about!"
W
What??? Me sorry??? Jesus! She was becoming as self-centered and arrogant as Ed Parmelly. I tore the note off the trailer door and crumpled it up after I finished reading it. Damn! So much for staying out in the woods. She would probably guess that I moved back into my old apartment complex but she couldn't know just yet which apartment I had moved into. I didn't doubt that she would probably figure it out, sooner or later, just by following me. But, if I was lucky, I might still have another day or two by myself before we eventually had to meet.
I packed up my stuff from the camper after grabbing a quick shower and cleaning up first. I made a few phone calls to some friends who had gone through divorces and asked who the best divorce attorney in Red River Falls was. It was nearly unanimous that Danielle Nichols was absolutely ruthless and didn't play fair at all. She only cared about her clients and she cared about winning. And she did whatever was necessary for both.
I made a quick phone call to her law office at Brown, Graham, Norris, Slater and Nichols. She didn't have a lot of time to meet with me today but could at least pencil me in for a consultation that afternoon. I also had a doctor's appointment that day, in which I was cleared to return to work at the fire department. My next shift would be on Saturday, ironically, the day Wendy and the Parmellys were supposed to have returned from Hawaii.
I would love to just hide for two days, but I also knew that was impossible and wasn't practical. My Dad called me after my doctor's appointment and told me that Wendy had actually showed up at their place about a half-hour after I left. Luckily for me, I ended up taking a completely indirect way back to Red River Falls and missed her along the road to my parents' house.
My appointment with my attorney, Danielle Nichols, went fairly well. It was helped by the fact that I really didn't want or need anything from Wendy. I told Danielle that I didn't even really want to file for divorce; I just wanted the option at my disposal in case Wendy refused to pull her head out of her ass. The truth is, I wanted Wendy to divorce herself from the Parmellys but I knew the odds of that were pretty slim.
I decided to forgo heading back to the campground and decided to stay at my new apartment instead. Besides, I needed to start getting everything situated in there so I could get a little better settled in. I spent most of the later afternoon and evening doing exactly that. I had left my cell phone out in the truck and didn't remember it until about nine o'clock that night. I had been so busy that I completely forgot all about it. I took that as a good sign that maybe I was doing better emotionally and mentally than I thought, as though I could somehow make it through all of this if Wendy and I split up for good.
I quickly retrieved my phone, making sure there was no one watching me, which there wasn't. I made a mental note to try and quit acting so paranoid. After all, it was Wendy who was looking for me, not Al-Qaeda. In some ways, the sooner we could have our conversation, the better.
I got my wish as soon as I started checking text messages and voice mails. There were over sixty messages just since that morning, all begging me to come home and make sense of this. The voicemails started out contrite but quickly eroded to paranoia and Wendy freaking out, wondering if I had decided to go off and kill myself or something.
There wasn't much point in listening to all of the voice mails, since I knew they would all pretty much say the same thing. So I decided to call her and get it over with. She picked up on the first ring.
"Jack? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"Oh, my god! Where are you? I looked for you at the campground and at your parents' place. They said they didn't know where you were."
"I know. I was pretty vague with them about where I'd be."
"Where are you? If you won't come home, then I'll come to you."
"Don't bother, Wendy. I'm not in the mood right now for a confrontation. I just called to tell you that I'm okay."
"Please, Jack! I need to see you! We need to get all of this straightened out! I didn't mean for it to seem like I was leaving you by going to Hawaii. I just wanted some time to sort all of this out!"
"How did you think avoiding me for 10 days less than two months into our marriage could possibly help solve anything?"
"I don't know, Jack. I guess I just needed the help and advice of people I trust, that's all."
"Jesus, Wendy," I said shaking my head. "The problem is right in front of you and you can't even see it."
"Jack, this is not about the Parmellys. It is about us. Sooner or later, you're going to have to accept that I had a life before you, Jack. You need to accept the fact that Kevin's family is still my family and they always will be. No one is making you live in Kevin's shadow, Jack."
Bullshit, I thought. "I accept that fact, Wendy. I knew full well how it was going to be when I made the decision that I wanted a relationship with you. But it has become very clear to me that Kevin's family doesn't accept me. Even still, that is only a small part of why our marriage is in serious trouble. And the fact that you would willingly leave me for ten days to spend a vacation in Hawaii with them tells me where your loyalty lies. And it isn't with your husband."
"God, Jack! You can be so frustrating, you know that? This isn't fair! You can't just expect me to forget about Kevin and my life with him! You can't possibly understand what it was like to lose Kevin and all of our hopes, dreams and ambitions! You can't imagine what it is like seeing the one you love die right before your eyes like that! You have no idea, Jack! Not until something like that happens to you can you really understand what I went through! The Parmellys understand, Jack! You couldn't possibly understand!"
Her words made me flinch like a gut punch. I could hear her crying in the background over the phone and my own tears started streaming down my cheeks.
"I understand much better than you think, Wendy," I said, trembling. "Much better." And then I hung up on her.
*****
Wendy tried calling me numerous times over the next hour or so but eventually realized it was futile and gave up after sending me a final text.
I'm not giving up on you, Jack! So don't give up on us, either! You just need to understand that my past is important to me. I can't pretend like it didn't happen. You can't understand what I went through but you should at least understand it will always be a part of who I am. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, Jack! I do! We still need to talk some more, so this conversation doesn't end here!
There didn't seem to be much point in even sending a reply. So I didn't bother and, instead, grabbed a Sam Adams from the fridge (my Dad got me hooked!) and vegged out in front of the TV for the rest of the night. I couldn't get over the arrogance Wendy was showing. She absolutely refused to acknowledge fucking herself silly on the bed while watching her and Kevin's homemade porno. And she had yet to even begin to acknowledge importing Kevin's sperm and planning a pregnancy with a dead man.
I got up early the next morning, which was Friday. It was my last day off work before heading back in for my first regular shift in over two weeks. I was looking forward to getting back to work and not being so much of a bum. But, of course, when I'm actually at work I am usually thinking about how nice it is to be away from work. Life is weird that way, I guess.
Danielle Nichols had some free time that morning to be able to see me. We sat down and she grabbed me a fresh cup of coffee, which I don't normally drink but didn't want to seem rude by not accepting.
"What do you think you want to do, Jack?" she asked.
"Well," I said, hesitating, "truth be told, I want to do something to wake her up. I guess I wanna do something that will make her realize that the relationship isn't one-sided. I wanna do something that will make her realize that I have some control and power over the relationship, too. She needs to understand that she can bail out on me with the Parmellys whenever she wants but, that doing so, is going to have some consequences."
"So, if I'm hearing you right, what you are saying is that you want to have her served with papers but you want to maintain the right to call it off before we get very far. Sound about right?"
"Yeah. I guess you kinda hit the nail on the head."
"It is pretty common, actually. Many spouses who are divorcing because of infidelity will file for divorce to try and snap the other spouse out of what they call 'the fog' of the affair. It's an effort to try and get the unfaithful spouse to understand that their actions will have dire consequences."
"Do most of them eventually get divorced?"
"Hmm. I'd say it's about 50/50, which is actually pretty good odds. For me and my husband, infidelity was a deal breaker."
"Wow!" I was shocked. Danielle Nichols was extremely hot, in a rip-your-heart-out-with-a-spoon kind of way. "No offense, but why the hell would he want to cheat on you?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Because he could and because he had a law clerk let him. Fairly typical in this business, I'm afraid. But, hey. We're still partners in this firm," she said, pointing to his picture on the wall, along with the rest of the partners. "We couldn't figure out how to play together but we can at least work together."

I just let out of a whistle of disbelief. "So, how fast can we make this happen?"
"Well," she said, "today is Friday, so I won't be able to get it done today. But I can finish everything up, call the Sheriff's office, and have her served Tuesday morning. Will that work?"
"That's perfect. I work Tuesday, anyway."
"Okay, we'll do it. And, remember, it doesn't mean you have to go through with it. If you feel like you and Wendy are making progress towards reconciliation, you can withdraw this at any time. I'll only bill you for the hours I actually work on it and refund the rest of your retainer."
"Okay, then," I said, standing and offering my hand. Danielle had a helluva grip.
I got to work the next morning for my shift at 08:00. Saturdays are generally a fairly lax day for us as it is a day to clean the entire station in the morning, as well as wash and maintain all of the fire trucks and ambulances.
We usually have a fairly light afternoon, depending on how many fire and EMS calls we are running.
Wendy called me, as I knew she would, shortly after I got to work that morning and asked if she could stop by later and talk. I told her no, that I was going to be too busy and had too much on my mind and needed to concentrate on work. It was BS, really. When we were dating, Wendy used to come by the fire station all the time. The truth to the matter was, I just really didn't want to see her.
I had Sunday and Monday off. Tuesday was the day that Wendy was going to get served the papers. In one way, I was hoping it would make Wendy see the light. In another, I was afraid that Wendy would ultimately seek comfort with the Parmellys. Somehow, at least narrowing it down to two outcomes seemed better than the uncertainty of letting things go on the way they were.
I called Danielle on Monday and asked her if it would also be possible to send a letter along with the divorce petition to Wendy. Danielle said that I could send along whatever I wanted.
So I took some time on Sunday and Monday to write out a letter letting Wendy know everything that I was feeling and why her actions had hurt me so much. Mostly, it was to let her know that I knew exactly what it was like to lose someone I loved so much. My Dad was right in that respect. Better to let her know now than later. I knew the rest of the Parmellys were home from Hawaii now, which most certainly explained why I hadn't heard anything from her on Sunday. Ed and Joanne were probably either telling Wendy to wait me out or just go ahead and get rid of me; that she could do much better than me. And, oh, by the way; did we tell you that Nate is still single?
I put fingers to keyboard and wrote the following letter:
My dearest Wendy,
If you are reading this letter, then you have received papers stating my intention of asking you for a divorce. While at first you may think I am doing this out of anger or spite, I want to assure you that I'm doing it out of love. Yes, that's right - love. I am doing this because I love you enough to let you go. I love you enough to let you be free.
It has become painfully clear to me that you are not ready to move on from the life you enjoyed with Kevin. I know that you will probably try and tell me that you are and that you have. But the truth is that you haven't. I don't hate you for this and I'm not angry with you for this. Hurt? Disappointed? I'd be lying if I said that I was not. I had my own dreams and ambitions that I wanted to share with you and am quickly coming to realize that it is not possible.
You made a comment to me last week over the phone that I couldn't possibly understand what you went through with losing Kevin. You said that I couldn't possibly understand unless it happened to me. The fact to the matter is, I do know what you went through. It happened to me.
Her name was Consuela Ariana de Maradiago. She was from a small town in southern Mexico called Arriaga. Her father and mother were supervisors at a large coffee plantation there. Connie was fortunate enough to earn a scholarship to attend St. Cloud State, which is where I met her when I was pursuing a degree in Fire Science and Public Safety Administration. I met her on a Sunday morning when we both attended Mass. She was with a group of her girlfriends and I had gone alone. From the minute we made eye contact, neither of us could stop looking at one another.
She was everything I had ever thought I wanted in a woman. Connie was beautiful with her long, jet black hair, her natural tan complexion, the darkest and most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. She had a smile that could have lit up a football stadium. She was so motivated to succeed, pursuing degrees in English and Special Education. Connie wanted nothing more than to work with children, especially those who struggled.
We became inseparable, as most couples deeply in love do. I was so enamored with her that I almost felt sorry for other men who didn't have someone like Connie in their lives. It almost seemed like a tragedy that people in this world didn't have the opportunity to enjoy a love as deep as ours.
As luck would have it, I took the entrance testing for the fire department in Red River Falls and placed #1 on the list, which meant that I had an excellent chance of getting hired right out of college. Connie applied for teaching positions in Red River Falls and was hired right away for a Title I position working with children who had speech and reading challenges. She was going to get to live out her dream and so was I. She said 'yes' before I could even finish asking her to marry me. I hadn't even made it to one knee yet.
I had only been on the job for two weeks. I was still a probationary firefighter and paramedic when that horrible call came in. We put on our gear and I took my place on the back of the engine as we went to what was reported as a serious motor vehicle collision. While we were on the way, the dispatcher reported that one of the vehicles was on fire and there was a woman trapped inside. We arrived on scene and saw that the security officer had dragged the driver of one of the vehicles out but were unable to get the driver of the second vehicle out before the vehicle became engulfed in flames.
I remember hearing the last of the screams of the trapped driver as I jumped out of the engine and started pulling a hose line to attack the fire. My heart was racing and I could feel the blood pounding in my temples. It was terrifically exciting and nerve wracking at the time. The engineer charged the hose line and my Lieutenant and I began putting out the car fire. The vehicle was so badly damaged I didn't recognize it at first.
It was only when we circled around the car, constantly hitting it with the full blast of water, that I saw the sticker on the rear bumper. It said 'Viva Mexico' - just like the one Connie had on her car. In horror, I realized the vehicle was the remains of a tan 1998 Ford Taurus wagon - the same car as Connie's.
The entire world went into slow motion. Someone was screaming and it took me a few moments to realize it was me. I don't even remember what happened next, other than my fellow firefighters wrestling me away from the car and getting me into the back of an ambulance - no easy task considering my size and all the gear I had on. They did their best to shield me from the rest of the carnage.
The fire was so bad that Connie's body could only be identified by her dental records, DNA and the vehicle's registration. I begged to be able to see her one last time but, in their wisdom, the medical examiner and my family and fellow firefighters wouldn't let me. I was angry at them at the time, but I now realize they did it because they wanted me to remember Connie the way I knew her. It helped because I never really did see her in the car, only a flame-engulfed shape sitting in the driver's seat.
We had a funeral service for Connie at Saint Matthew's and then flew her body back to Arriaga to be buried near her relatives. Her parents, whom I had previously had a great relationship with, refused to speak to me. Her brothers blamed me for her death, saying that she wouldn't have died if she had been able to come back to Mexico instead of staying with me. No matter how many times I have written them to say I'm sorry, they haven't written back.
I have waited thirteen years for someone like you, Wendy. Someone who could fill my heart with the same love that I had for Connie. THIRTEEN YEARS!! I deserve to have someone in my life who loves me with an equal amount of passion and ferocity as Connie did. Maybe it was too much to ask. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe I should have just accepted the situation with you and dealt with the idea that maybe my one shot at a true and lasting love had passed me by. Maybe I need to just learn to accept the fact that Kevin will always come first in your life and to just take what I can get.
But I refuse to. I still believe that I am someone who is worthy of having someone who loves me as much as I love her. And so, I have come to the decision that it is better to be alone in this world than to spend my time trying to love someone who makes me feel alone. That brings us to where we are.
No doubt you have probably spent most of your time in the company of Ed, Joanne and the rest of the Parmellys since they got back from Hawaii. I hope your leaving early didn't spoil the rest of their vacation. Just make sure they understand that I didn't ask you to do it, not that any reason you give them will grant me any favors in their eyes.
Know that I love you with a love that is as deep and passionate as the one I had for Connie. If nothing else is to come of this marriage, then I want to thank you for helping to prove that I am at least capable of having that magnitude of love for someone once again.
Yours faithfully,
Jack
I sent the letter to Danielle Nichols by email to be included with the process and then I went totally dark and underground for the remainder of the weekend. I made a stop by the campground and picked up a tent, sleeping bag and a few other essentials that I would need. I silenced the cell phone and made sure the GPS tracker was off. I headed further south along the Red River on the Minnesota side and checked out a campground there and paid $10 for one of the primitive sites.
I spent the rest of Sunday and most of Monday hiking, fishing and just spending some time by myself. I know it was cruel and I admit that. I think that in my effort to avoid Wendy that maybe I felt like I was showing her some of the same alienation that I had been feeling ever since we got married. I couldn't understand how we had gone from being so close during our dating and engagement time to all of a sudden being faced with a canyon-sized distance once we were married.
I could only think that actually being married to me probably sparked some sense of panic in Wendy that her life, as she knew it, with Kevin was permanently gone. I couldn't really begrudge her of that because I had spent an awfully long time trying to get over Connie and coming to terms with the life that she and I would never get to have. I remember thinking that no woman could ever possibly hold a candle to Connie. But that didn't stop me from trying. And then I met Wendy.
I had been underground for nearly two days and completely off the grid and radar. I had missed over 80 phone calls and 150 text messages from Wendy. Most of them were short, just begging me to call or telling me how much she loved me. My mind dismissed them as her being in panic mode, although my heart hoped that she truly was sorry and missed me. I hoped it wasn't because she just didn't want to be faced with the fact that her marriage was probably going to be shorter than Kim Kardashian's.
Tuesday morning I got to work at the fire station and took my seat as the Lieutenant on Engine 1. Things progressed normally until about 10:00 in the morning when my captain approached me during our morning fire training and said there was a visitor who wanted - no, make that DEMANDED to speak with me.
I went to the front office of the station and was greeted with none other than Ed Parmelly himself. Oh, shit.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Jack?" he shouted.
"Keep calm, Ed. You're in a public building."
"I don't give a shit! Wendy is at our house right now and she is a total wreck! Bad enough that you had to go and ruin hers and our vacation but did you really serve her divorce papers while she was at work???"
Oh, shit! I hadn't thought about that. The deputy who served her must have had to track her down and found her at the college.
"I didn't mean for her to get served in front of her colleagues, Ed. I didn't think about where they were going to serve her just that she was going to be served."
"Jesus Christ, you're an asshole, Jack! Just where in the hell do you get off having her served? As far as I'm concerned, Wendy ought to be kicking your ass to the curb!"
"It really doesn't matter, Ed. The fact to the matter is that Wendy and I getting married was obviously a mistake. And I don't need you to tell me that so I think you should just go," I said, trying to be calm and professional.
"You're goddamned right it was a mistake, one I tried desperately to talk her out of. It was too soon after losing Kevin. And one hell of a step down for her, too!"
"Whatever, Ed. You need to leave. You can either go peacefully or I can have my captain call the security officer and have you removed by force."
"Fine, jackass. I'll leave. I just wanted to personally tell you what a piece of shit I think you are. You never deserved Wendy. You are absolutely NOTHING compared to what my son was! I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure you don't come anywhere near her again!" Ed left the station and flung the door open so dramatically when he left that he ended up cracking the safety glass.
"You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?" my captain, Luke Briggs asked.
"Wendy and I are splitting up."
"Jesus, Jack! Are you serious? What the hell happened?"
"I don't really wanna talk about it right now, Luke. Let's just get back to training."
"At least tell me who the hell that guy was. I'm gonna have to explain to the chief how the front door got busted."
"His name is Ed Parmelly. He's Wendy's former father-in-law and a major league asshole."
"Look, Jack," Luke said, "I'm worried about you. Are you gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, Luke. I'll be fine. Let's just get back to training. It'll be easier if I just keep my mind off it, ya know?"
"Yeah, okay. But if I think you're having a hard time handling it, I'm gonna send you home on sick leave, okay?"
"Nah, that's okay, Luke. I've used up enough sick time already."
"The chief went through a bad divorce a few years ago, Jack. He'll understand."
"Yeah, okay. But I'll be fine. I promise."
Luke Briggs must have told the rest of the firefighters and medics on my shift. To their credit, none of them said anything to me about it. I guess they all probably knew how I felt. Monica Banner kept her distance, too, even though she knew more than everybody else.
I was thankful to get off work the next morning and grateful to have a couple of days off to think about what I was going to do. I hadn't heard anything more from Wendy, probably at Ed and Joanne's urging. I could imagine them just telling her to let me go and move on with someone better...someone like Nate, perhaps? I tried to shove such thoughts out of my head as I knew I wouldn't get anywhere with them and they would only make me feel worse.
I was on my drive back to my apartment when my cell phone rang. It was Danielle Nichols. Since I knew Wendy had to respond to the divorce petition within twenty days, I figured that Danielle might be calling with some news. I wasn't far off in my assumption, but there was a major twist.
"Jack, this is Danielle. I've got some news for you."
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Wendy apparently got a lawyer already, Malcolm Dunkirk. I know him. Surprisingly, for an opposing attorney, he's not really an asshole."
"Okay. And?"
"Wendy and her attorney are asking for a sit-down face-to-face meeting with you to go over your divorce petition."
"WHAT? Are you kidding me?"
"No. Wendy's attorney said that his client is willing to acquiesce to all of your requests so long as she can have the opportunity to speak to you face-to-face. Have you talked to her since she got back from her trip?"
"Yes, I have."
"Face-to-face?"
Damn. "No, not in person. I've pretty much been avoiding her like smallpox."
"Well, if Wendy is willing to give you what you want, I say we do it. Her attorney is asking for a meeting tomorrow at two o'clock at my firm. Can you be there?"
I let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'm off duty tomorrow. I can make it. I guess this thing is going to move faster than I thought."
"Yeah, it might, Jack. If you and she can agree on everything, you'll have your divorce within sixty days."
"Jesus. It took dating her almost a year and a half before I could muster the courage to ask her to marry me. And then another six months for an engagement. Almost two years to get married and we can flush it down the toilet in a little over two months. Wow."
"I know, Jack," Danielle said, sounding sympathetic. "But at least you can get started with the rest of your life."
"Yeah. There is that, I suppose."
I got back to my apartment and decided to clean up and go work out at a local gym for a while. Later on, I decided to get out of the apartment and treat myself to a drink and a bite to eat.
I ended up going to a place in Red River Falls calls The End Zone, which was a local sports bar that did its best to impersonate Buffalo Wild Wings. There were plenty of TV screens to watch just about every sporting event in the world that happened to be on at the time.
I bellied up to a seat at the end of their huge bar. It was great because a Vikings pre-season game was on and they were playing Oakland. I was hoping for great things this year from the Vikes and their new head coach, Mike Zimmer. Also, they had drafted Teddy Bridgewater and I was eager to see how Touchdown Teddy would fit in with the Vikings' offense. Considering the year we had last year, the Vikes certainly couldn't do any worse.
For the first time in as long as I could remember I actually had an appetite and decided to go with their house specialty burger, a bacon barbecue Swiss triple with jalapenos that had over a pound of meat and came to your table with a steak knife sticking out of the top of the bun. I got a side order of criss cut fries and a huge pilsner of some German beer whose name I couldn't even pronounce. It was setting up to be a good night of good food, great beer and mediocre pre-season football.
I was enjoying myself and the game so much that I didn't even really notice when someone snuck up behind me. I turned around to see none other than the sheriff of Mason County himself, Sheriff Pat Quinn.
"Jack! Jack Fitzgerald! I thought that was you!" he shouted.
I turned around on my bar stool and did my best to choke down a mouthful of burger and fries as I extended my hand.
"Sheriff Quinn! Great to see you! It's been quite a while!"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yes, it has. And, please, call me Pat. Of all people, you don't have to be formal with me."

"Okay, Pat," I chuckled.
"Jack, I want you to meet some people. This is my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan. And these people with us are her parents, Jack and Suzanne Sullivan."
"Pleased to meet you all," I said as we shook hands. My God, I thought, as I eyeballed the sheriff's fiancée. For a moment, I forgot all about my current dilemma. If Wendy and I ended up divorced, I hoped like hell I could find a woman who looked like Quinn's fiancée.
"Everyone, this is Jack Fitzgerald," Pat said, introducing me. "Jack is a firefighter and paramedic with the Red River Falls Fire Department. Jack was one of the firefighters who were in the ambulance that day that picked me up off the highway the day I got shot. He's one of the people who saved my life."
Pat's guests all seemed shocked by this revelation and his fiancée, Shannon, leaned over and hugged me immediately. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by the combined feminine scent of her shampoo, lotions, soaps and perfume. Whatever it was, they all combined to form an absolutely divine scent which enhanced her incredible beauty. Aside from Wendy and Connie, I can't remember the last time I saw a woman as sexy as Quinn's fiancée.
We stood there making small talk for ten or fifteen minutes before they decided they were overstaying their welcome.
"We better let you get back to your supper before your food gets cold," Quinn said. "It was really great to see you again, Jack. I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me that day."
"I appreciate that. But I'm also in awe of what you did that day saving that little girl. How great that she's going to be your daughter now! You're a lucky man."
"Really great to see you, Jack. If there is anything I can ever do for you, anything at all, I want you to give me a call," he said, handing me a business card.
"Thanks, Pat. I might just do that."
"Please do. Take care, Jack." And the Sheriff left to follow his family out to their car. Damn! What a lucky guy. I returned to my food and beer and finished both. With my stomach incredibly full of great food and access to plenty of refills of beer, my bar stool was getting decidedly comfortable and I decided to just make a night of it right where I was. I didn't have to meet Wendy and her attorney until tomorrow afternoon.
By the time I was into my fourth beer, the alcohol was filtering its way past the food and starting to have an effect. Depending on my overall demeanor, I can either be a pleasant, happy drunk or an incredibly depressed ass-ache of a drunk. I was on my way to being an ass-ache. I was feeling pretty down, depressed and sorry for myself.
I had just finished my beer and told the bartender to bring me another when a breeze flew in beside me and a male voice said, "I'll have what he's having!" I looked to my left and saw none other than Nate Parmelly occupying the bar stool next to me.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," I said, assuming a defensive posture.
"Yep, good ol' Nate Parmelly in the flesh," he said, with his trademark smirk on his face. "I heard the sheriff call out your name, saw you were here, an decided to come over and chat."
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Well, I heard you filed divorce papers on Wendy today and I thought maybe you might wanna talk about it. Judging by the look on your face, you look like you could use a friend, Jack."
"Great," I said, taking a sip of my fresh beer. "Let me know when any of my buddies walk in."
"Jeez, Jack. Don't you consider me a friend? We've never had reason to get at it, have we?"
"I dunno, Nate. I guess that all depends on what happened in Hawaii, doesn't it."
"Not sure what you're talking about there, Jack."
"Oh, please! Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking dense? You think I don't know that the whole trip to Hawaii was a ploy to get Wendy away from me for ten days?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jack. I had nothing to do with getting Wendy on that trip. As far as I knew, my grandmother was supposed to be going along right up until we saw Wendy at the airport."
"Yeah, right," I spat.
"I swear to God, Jack. It's true. Neither Greg nor Bobby nor Melinda had any idea either. It was just as much of a shock to them, too."
"Aw, hell. Your folks had it planned the whole time."
"Looking back at it now, you're probably right."
"I know damned good and well I'm right. They wanted to get her away from me, get her someplace tropical and romantic and have you romance her right out from under me."
Nate threw his head back and laughed out loud. At least he had a normal grin on his face instead of that stupid smirk.
"You know damned well I'm right," I continued. "I could tell from the minute I met your family that that's what they wanted was for you to sweep in and keep Wendy in the family fold. Like some kind of biblical responsibility or something."
Nate kept laughing for a bit and then got calmed down enough to talk.
"Well, Jack. I can't disagree with you there," he giggled. "Truth be told, I'm sure that my parents would love nothing more than to see that happen. But, I can assure you that won't happen in this lifetime."
"What? Wendy not good enough for you? You got someone better waiting in the wings? Her tits not big enough for you? Tired of living in your brother's shadow?"
Jesus, I thought. Why am I asking these questions? Am I trying to make an
argument for why he should want to take Wendy away from me? Am I that drunk?
"Well, Jack. The answer to your first question is that Wendy is good enough for any man on the planet. Second, I do have someone waiting for me. Third, her tits are plenty big if you're into tits. And last, I am indeed tired of living in my brother's shadow."
"What's wrong with her tits?" I asked. God, I really must be getting drunk.
"Oh, her tits are fine, Jack. I'm just not into tits."
"How can you not be into tits? All dudes are into tits," I slurred, taking another gulp of beer.
"Well," Nate said, pausing for a few moments, "I'm not like most dudes. Truth be told, Jack...you probably have a better shot with me than Wendy does."
I nearly spit out my beer. "I beg your fucking pardon?"
Nate gave me a big old shit-eating grin. "Yep. That's right, Jack. I'm gay."
I studied his face for a few moments just waiting for an 'I-gotcha' or something. But there wasn't.
"I swear to God, Jack," he continued. "Take a look over in the corner over there."
I turned to look at the far corner booth. Sitting there was a good-looking young man, probably 25 or 26 years old. He sat there, nursing a beer, with a bit of a
smile on his face, staring at me and Nate.
"That's my boyfriend, Jack," Nate explained, a look of genuine fondness on his face. "His name is Wyatt Helms. We've been seeing each other for almost a year." Nate turned back towards me. "If it makes you feel better, Jack, I didn't get to bring the one I love to Hawaii, either. Neither did Wendy."
As I looked back at him, Watt gave me and Nate a brief wave, to which Nate smiled and waved back. I looked back at Nate again and he at me. The grin was gone and a look of dead seriousness, with a bit of trepidation, had replaced it. I realized that Nate Parmelly was dead serious and he had risked something great by telling me he was gay.
"Do you understand now, Jack? Do you get it that I am absolutely no threat to you for Wendy?"
"I'll be goddamned," I half-whispered. I shook my head in disbelief. "Sorry, Nate. No disrespect, I guess it's just hard to wrap my head around it. I mean...you look...and act...well...what I mean is..."
"Normal, you mean? I look and act like I'm not gay?"
"Well, I don't mean to be an asshole...but, yeah."
Nate chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Jack. I hear it all the time."
I was still shocked and incredulous. "I guess I just thought that...well, I mean you look like a cowboy, ya know?"
Nate laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's just always been my look. Ever since Brokeback Mountain came out it's kind of been who I am, I suppose. Usually people hear that I have a background in theater and they say, 'well, that makes sense'. But, yeah, the cowboy look throws 'em off the scent, so to speak. Guess I'm just a gay, cowboy."
Now I chuckled a bit and relaxed some, too. "Sorry I misjudged you."
"Don't apologize. In fact, I'm sorry I misjudged you, too. On top of that, I'd like to apologize to you, Jack, on behalf of my whole family."
"Speaking of them, I mean, what do they think of you? I mean, no offense, but your dad seems like he's kind of uptight and old-fashioned."
Nate took a long pull from his beer. "Let me tell you something, Jack. I love my father in the way that all sons love their fathers to an extent. He never beat me or hit me while I was growing up. But as much as I love my father, I really don't like him very much."
For some reason, that was an immense relief to hear. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."
"No, no, no. You're not prying at all, Jack. People have a lot of respect for my Dad. And for the most part, he's earned it. But I see the side of my Dad that most people don't. I see the temperamental, judgmental side of him that people don't. I see the side of Ed Parmelly that still cries and aches over the loss of his first-born and is so consumed by grief that he no longer has the capacity to experience any joy in his life, even with his remaining children and grandchildren.
"He resents the fact that Greg and Bobby each have kids of their own and he resents the fact that none of those grandkids are Kevin's. That's what I, Greg, Bobby and Melinda have had to grow up with. We've not only had to live in Kevin's shadow, we've also had to endure our father's blindness when it came to any of us."
I took a sip of beer. "I'm sorry, Nate. I guess that explains why he is so hell bent on keeping Wendy close."
"Whether she realizes it or not, Jack, Wendy needs you to fight for her. In fact, we all do. Especially Greg, Bobby, Melinda and me. We need you to fight for Wendy, too. The best thing you can do is get her the hell away from my parents. Let her stand on her own for once - without Kevin's memory or my parents' influence."
"I just don't know if that is possible," I half-whined.
"Listen to me, Jack! You have to do it! You'll be doing Wendy a favor she didn't even know she needed!"
"How can I do that when she's not even over Kevin yet?"
"Wendy has gotten over Kevin, Jack. Wendy is an incredibly strong woman. If she wasn't over Kevin's death, she wouldn't have married you. It has been four years since Kevin died. She knew she was ready to move on. What she needs to do now, is summon the strength to move on from my parents. She absolutely has to get away from them, Jack. You need to sweep her up, romance the hell out of her, and ride off into the sunset."
"The problem is, Nate, is that I still see Kevin everywhere. Even being married to Wendy, I still have to deal with his presence every time I go to the house. I can't even call it going home because it has never felt like home."
"Get rid of it. Put it on the market. What my parents don't know is that Wendy wanted to sell the house for the same reason. She knew it would be harder to move on, too. My parents were the ones who just about demanded that she stay there and insisted she keep it the way it was when Kevin lived there."
"I dunno, Nate. There's just so much that has happened. I just don't know if I have the strength or will to go on or if I even want to go forward. Maybe it would just be better if Wendy and I went our separate ways and I'll just fade back into the wood work."
"Aw, God, Jack! I am begging you not to do that. I am pleading with you to not let my father win this one. He already has it in his head that he can get Wendy to do whatever he wants. He is depending on her and everyone else to keep Kevin alive. I guarantee that Wendy loves you - no matter what she has said or done. When she realized that you weren't going to be there when she got home from Hawaii, she absolutely freaked out! She hasn't been this scared in a long time. She doesn't want to lose you, Jack."
"You don't understand, though, Nate. There's been some things that she's done and some other things that she planned on doing that are just going to be hell for me to try and get over."
Nate leaned in. "Look, Jack, if you're talking about the bedroom scene that you walked in on, Wendy told me all about that. She swore to me that she didn't know what came over her. She thinks it was just all of the pressure that she's been getting from my parents along with the fact that the two of you haven't seemed to have gotten off on the right foot yet. Wendy told me in Hawaii that she planned on seeing a therapist when she got home to get to the bottom of it. It might have been some pang of guilt that came up after you got married instead of before. I don't think it means she loves you any less."
"That was bad enough, Nate. But the sperm issue is just more than I can take."
Nate looked confused. "Sperm issue? What on earth are you talking about, Jack?"
I let out a long sigh and proceeded to give Nate the Cliff Notes version of Wendy planning on impregnating herself with Kevin's sperm and forcing me to raise a child that wasn't mine biologically. Nate sat there with a stoic look that slowly turned to horror by the time I finished.
"No, Jack. That can't be. There is no way that Wendy would do something like that to you. I guarantee it. I'd be willing to bet my life that my parents have something to do with this. It is the only thing that makes sense. Only my Dad could be so diabolical as to try and bring some measure of his son back to life by forcing Wendy to get pregnant with a dead man's sperm."
"What else could it be, though, Nate? Why else would she and Kevin have done it?"
"Simple, Jack. When Kevin was diagnosed with cancer, he and Wendy knew that it would be a long shot at getting better. But they still believed there was a chance. They also knew that there was a high possibility that the treatments that might save or prolong Kevin's life might also severely damage his ability to father a child. And so, before he got too deep into the chemotherapy and radiation treatments, he auto-donated his sperm to be stored for future reference in case him and Wendy couldn't get pregnant on their own."
"So, you think your Dad is the one who might be pressuring Wendy into getting pregnant with Kevin's sperm?"
"Jack, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Wendy didn't even know about it. Hell, I bet they were waiting to spring it on her at the end of the Hawaii trip but Wendy panicked over you and bailed on us early."
"Shit! That could definitely explain it. The whole thing was pre-paid by your parents. That's why it never went through our insurance company. It was the only way to keep it private."
"What the hell! Are you serious, Jack?"
"As a fucking heart attack, Nate. I had to do a lot of lying and cheating to get that information, including having a friend of mine pretending to be Wendy. Our insurance will cover up to two in vitro attempts but I'd have to know about it. Wendy would never have been able to keep it a secret."
Nate was silent for a few moments. As I studied his face, I could see tears forming in his eyes. "My God," he said. "Greg, Bobby and Melinda are going to freak out when they hear about this."
"I'm sorry, Nate. I really am. But I'm still going to need to hear all of this from Wendy."
"I understand," he said. "What time and where is your appointment with Wendy tomorrow?"
"Two o'clock and it's at my lawyer's office."
"Good enough. I'll be there."
"Really?" I said.
"Damned straight, if you'll let me. It's time my Dad understood where he stands with his kids."
"Okay, then. I'll see you there," I said, extending it. Nate promptly ignored my hand for a shake and engulfed me in a massive bear hug. Without thinking of it, I embraced him back. We hugged for a long time but it didn't seem weird.
"Come on over now, Jack. I want you to meet Wyatt."
"I'd love to," I said, grabbing my beer and plate. I spent the rest of the night sitting in the booth with Nate and Wyatt. Several more of their friends showed up later on and I was soon ensconced in gay men. Nate explained to them all that he still considered Wendy to be a sister to him and, thus, he introduced me to them all as his "new brother-in-law". I was somewhat taken aback and, yet, honored by the introduction.
I happily chatted with all of them throughout the evening. I was almost disappointed that none of them attempted to make a pass at me the rest of the evening. I guess it served to shatter one of many stereotypes I had of gay men and also helped dispel the illusion that I was better looking than I was. Guess I still had some growing up to do, even at the age of 35.
I was thankful that I had the next day off because I had one hell of a hangover. Fortunately, one of Nate's friends didn't drink and he served as a one-man drunk bus and dropped us all off at our homes, regardless of how far out of the way it was for him.
It was nearly noon by the time I woke up the next day. I still had two hours before I had to meet with Wendy and her attorney. I was comforted knowing that Nate was going to be there. If you had asked me if I would have felt that way a week earlier, I would have said that you were insane.
After the usual shit, shower and shave (and a lot of coffee) I started to feel like a human again. I simply chose a button down shirt, slacks, decent shoes and a tie for the meeting. I hardly ever wore a suit and this was about as dressed up as I got.
I arrived at Danielle Nichols' office at 1:30. I wanted to beat Wendy there and Danielle more or less hid me in her office until Wendy and her attorney, Malcolm Dunkirk, arrived. My parents were already there and waiting in the conference room. I had asked them to come for moral support, also, but I knew I might have to ask them to leave if Wendy didn't want them there.
At two o'clock, we headed for the conference room. I couldn't believe what I saw. Wendy sat there looking absolutely amazing in a dark blue pin stripe suit with an incredibly low-cut shirt. She wasn't blessed with an abundance of cleavage but I suddenly saw what wonders a high quality pushup bra could so for someone like her.
The other thing I couldn't believe was the fact that, along with her parents Mike and Christie, Ed and Joanne Parmelly were sitting on the opposite side of the table from me, as well. Ed gave me his trademark scowl as I entered and I saw my Dad return an equally distasteful look to Ed, knowing how Wendy's former father-in-law felt about me.
Regrettably, I didn't see Nate Parmelly in the room. I was crestfallen and hoped that he was only going to be fashionably late.
Danielle Nichols sat to my right and my parents sat to my left. My mother reached out and grabbed my hand as a show of support. Wendy saw it and I saw a slight smile on her face as she did. She was doing everything she could to try and make eye contact with me but I avoided doing so as much as I could. I was still too hurt.
"Counselor, you and your client requested this meeting today," Danielle began. "Perhaps you would like to start."
"Thank you, counselor," Dunkirk replied. "My client requested this meeting to see if her husband would consider other alternatives to resolving their differences before settling on a divorce. It seems as if Mr. Fitzgerald had withheld some key information from my client that could be useful in achieving a successful reconciliation between them."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Counselor," Danielle started ,"your client has engaged in a series of acts that have caused great emotional injury to my client and demonstrated that she has never been fully committed to this marriage. The terms my client has offered to Mrs. Fitzgerald were extremely generous and fair, considering they were newly married and both parties will keep only the assets they had when they entered into the marriage."

"I understand that, Ms. Nichols," Dunkirk replied. "But my client has stated that she will agree to those terms...but only after she has had an opportunity to try and talk her husband into reconciling their differences first. Beside, Danielle, you and I both know that a judge is likely to order counseling first, and especially if one party or another requests it."
Danielle looked at me for guidance and I simply nodded to her to go ahead.
"Very well, counselor. Your client was the one that requested the meeting so she could talk to her husband. Why don't we hear from her, then?"
"Good," Dunkirk said. "You can go ahead whenever you're ready," he said to Wendy.
Just then the door to the conference room opened and Nate Parmelly burst in.
"Sorry we're late and sorry for interrupting," he said with a big grin. I was puzzled as he walked over to Wendy and reached down for a hug, which she eagerly returned. I could see a smirk cross Ed Parmelly's face as he assumed another member of Team Wendy had shown up for support. But then Nate made a production of walking all the way around the conference table and pulling up a seat directly behind me and then patted me on the shoulders.
I turned in my chair and said, "thanks" as we warmly shook hands.
The smug look on Ed's face disappeared and was replaced by a deep scowl. To my amazement Greg, Bobby and Melinda all filed into the room and took up seats on either side of Nate. I exchanged warm looks with all of them as they took their seats. They, in turn, exchanged glances with Wendy who smiled at each of them. Suddenly, I realized that this meeting wasn't going to be so much of a confrontation between me and Wendy as it was to send a message to Ed and Joanne Parmelly.
"Jack," Wendy finally began, "why did you never tell me about Connie? Why would you keep such a traumatic thing like that from me?"
A pitcher of water and glasses had been set out on the table and I took a quick sip and cleared my throat.
"Well," I said, trying to find the right words, "I guess I knew your situation and all of the pain that went with it. I didn't want you to think that the base of our relationship was simply the commonality of having shared extreme losses. I was afraid you might think that I had never gotten over Connie. I didn't want you to ever have to worry about whether you came first and foremost in my life."
"But it is such a huge part of your past, Jack! In light of everything that has happened between us, didn't you think that it might actually help us if I knew about Connie?"
"No, I didn't. I learned to put that pain behind me a long time ago. I didn't want to victimize you by bringing it up, especially because of the way she died. It's bad enough that I have that in my own head. I didn't want you to have it in yours."
"But here we are, Jack. And if we go our separate ways now, we'll never know if it would have helped or not. That's why I want us to give our marriage another shot, Jack."
"Wendy," I said, carefully, "there are much bigger issues here that have created a wall between us than just me not telling you about Connie."
"Are any of them so big that we can't overcome them, Jack?"
"I'm afraid they might be, Wendy. I can't forget what I saw that day when I came home from the hospital." I saw a look of smug satisfaction on Ed's face when I referenced Wendy's act of masturbating to the video of her and Kevin. Obviously, Ed knew about it. How he knew, I couldn't guess. I had a hard time believing Wendy would tell him that. She must have confided in Joanne who, in turn, related the event to Ed.
"I can't explain what came over me that day, Jack. And I can't apologize enough to you for it. But I truly am sorry. And I'm sorry that I avoided dealing with it by running off to Hawaii. It was inexcusable on my part."
"Yes, Wendy. It was inexcusable. And the end result of that act is part of the reason for why we are sitting here staring at a divorce."
"I know it was bad, Jack. But it isn't like you caught me in the arms of another man. I know it was weird and I know I have to deal with it and get to the bottom of why I did it. And I am more than willing to find those answers with the help of a counselor, Jack!"
I sat forward a bit. "Look, Wendy, finding you re-enacting a lovemaking session with Kevin was, indeed, bad enough. And I'm sure that I can, in time, find a way to get past that. But what I have a hard time believing is that you expect me to get past the issue with the sperm samples."
"I know, I know. That's what I don't understand. I couldn't make out everything you said on the phone that night. What about the sperm samples?"
"Kevin's sperm samples."
Wendy was shocked. "Who told you about them?"
"Does it matter?"
"No," she said, composing her thoughts. "I guess it doesn't. And the sperm samples don't really matter, either."
I was taking another sip of water and almost choked.
"What??? They don't matter? How in the hell can you say they don't matter?"
I looked over at Ed and Joanne. They were both shifting uncomfortably in their seat as Kevin's sperm samples became the topic.
"What difference would they make now? We knew how sick Kevin was at the time. We wanted to believe he had a chance to get well, Jack. But we also knew that even if he got well that the treatments might mean he was never able to have children of his own, especially from the radiation. So that is why we had the samples taken. So we could use them to start a family of our own when Kevin got well."
"I understand that, Wendy," I said, rather cold and calculatingly. "But why were those samples shipped to a clinic here in Red River Falls just last week?"
Wendy looked shocked and confused. "What are you talking about, Jack? Those samples are at some cryo lab way out West. Honestly, I had even forgotten they were still there!"
"They were," I explained, "up until last week. Those five vials of Kevin's sperm are now at the McMillan Women's' Clinic and are in the hands of Doctor Virginia Howard who is scheduled to conduct an in vitro fertilization procedure on you at a time of your choosing."
Wendy gasped. "What in God's name are you talking about, Jack? I would never in a million years do such a thing! Is this some kind of a sick joke? Do you want to divorce me that badly that you're willing to try some kind of demented stunt like this?"
"Ms. Nichols," I said, "would please show my wife the emails from the clinic?"
Danielle reached into her attaché case and retrieved the confirmation emails I had forwarded to me from the clinic. They detailed the procedure, what Wendy could expect during the procedure, and what the odds of success were.
Wendy covered her mouth with her right hand as she flipped through the pages with her left. She genuinely appeared shocked and horrified by what she saw. The enormity and depravity of the prospect of carrying the child of a man who had been deceased for years was finally making an impact.
"Jack! Baby, please!" She began crying out loud. "Please tell me that you know I would never try anything as sick and perverted as this!"
"I want to believe that," I said softly, "but I also am afraid that you might be able to get talked into it by the right people...by people who seem to have an exceptional amount of influence over you."
She looked puzzled. "Who...who are you talking about?"
I simply nodded my head in Ed and Joanne's direction. Both Ed and Joanne sat there and looked absolutely petrified. And Ed was seething, too. Nate, Greg, Bobby and Melinda all stared back at their parents with looks of absolute disgust and revulsion on their faces.
"Ed and Joanne? No. They would never try something like this."
"Look at the last page of the emails, Wendy," Danielle said quietly. "There is a financial statement attached. You will see that the procedure has been pre-paid in full by Mister and Mrs. Parmelly."
Wendy sobbed as she looked back and forth between the emails and Ed and Joanne. Mike and Christi, Wendy's parents, were too shocked and stunned to even say anything. They were trying to make sense of the situation and couldn't believe what they were hearing.
"Goddamn you, Jack!" Ed Parmelly seethed as he stood. "Look what you've done!"
"No! No! Ed, please tell me that none of this is true," Wendy pleaded. "Please tell me you would never have expected me to go through with any of this!"
Ed approached her and took her hands in his. "Look, Wendy...Joanne and I...well, we...wanted to...to...talk to you about this in Hawaii. We wanted you to just...consider...what it would mean to us if you could do this."
"Oh, my God!" Wendy flinched and yanked her hands out of Ed's grip. "You actually expected me to do this? You actually thought I would agree to this?"
"Wendy, please," Ed pleaded, approaching her slowly. "Just think about what this would mean! Think about what it would mean for you! And for Kevin! It would mean that a part of Kevin would live on! Part of Kevin would be alive again!"
"Jesus Christ, you sick bastard," said Wendy's father, Mike Hasseman. "How in the hell do you think you could have talked my daughter into doing something this awful?"
"It is NOT awful!" Ed barked.
"It sure as hell is!" Mike yelled back. "And it is satanic and ungodly!"
"No, it isn't! You just don't understand! Why would God allow us the miracle of in vitro fertilization if He didn't want us to use it???"
"You've changed, Ed," Wendy sobbed. "This isn't like you! Kevin would never want me to do something like this!"
"Kevin wanted to live, Wendy! You don't understand! This would be a way for part of Kevin to live on!" He was getting desperate.
"How could you think that I would even agree to something like this, Ed?"
"Because you were his WIFE, dammit! You were supposed to bear his children! You swore an oath before God! This isn't wrong, Wendy! This is a chance to make something right! It was wrong for Kevin to be taken away so early! He never had a chance! This is giving him that chance! A chance to extend life beyond his own!"
Wendy slowly backed away from Ed as she could clearly see the madness bubbling over in his mind. A genuine look of fear was on her face as Ed crept closer. I jumped from my seat and stood between Wendy and him as I was afraid he would get physical with her if she didn't agree to the IVF procedure. Without even realizing it, I had grabbed Wendy's hand and she had started squeezing it for all she was worth and hid behind me.
Soon Mike, Christie, my parents, Nate, Greg, Bobby and Melinda all surrounded me and Wendy in a show of solidarity.
"What the hell is wrong with you all?" Ed shouted at his kids. "Is this how it is going to be? You're all on his side now? Is that what you want? For this loser to replace your brother?"
"Kevin is dead, Dad" Nate said, calmly. "You need to face that reality. And you need to let him die, too. You can't force everyone else around you to try in vain to keep him alive."
"What the fuck would you know about it, you little fairy! You don't even come close to comparing to your brother! Your brother would be embarrassed as hell to know that he had Tinkerbell as a brother!"
"No. You're wrong," Nate said, eyes glistening with tears beginning to fall. "You're wrong about that. Kevin knew that I'm gay. He was the first one I had the courage to come out to. He is the reason that I'm out of the closet with everyone. Unlike you, Kevin never tried to get me to go back in the closet. The only one who is ashamed of me is you!" Greg, Bobby and Melinda all put their hands on his shoulders as a show of support. I reached out with my right hand and took Nate's left hand in my own.
"This has gotta stop, Dad," Greg added. "We know how tough it was losing Kevin. You weren't the only one in pain."
"We all were, Dad," Bobby added. "But you gotta let go of the bitterness and anger. It is going to consume you and bring you to an early grave if you don't."
"And we'd like to keep you around for a while," Melinda added, "if not for yourself, then at least for us and your grandchildren."
"You don't know," Ed said, shaking his head and getting ready to explode. "You have no idea. You'll never understand! Kevin had a destiny! That was taken from him! We can at least get some of that back!"
"No, Dad, we can't," Greg said. "It sucks that it is gone. We were all devastated. But this is an unholy way of trying to get him back, Dad. This is nothing more than scientific witchcraft! It isn't going to bring Kevin back! All it would do is bring a child into the world who would never have a chance to know his real father! It wouldn't be fair to the child, it wouldn't be fair to Kevin and it sure as hell isn't fair to Jack!"
"I don't give damn about Jack! I only care about Kevin!" Ed returned his gaze to Wendy. "Wendy...please reconsider it. Please think about what it would mean for all of us."
"No, Ed! I won't do it! Kevin would never want this!"
Ed stood there, his anger reaching a boiling point. Then he vented his anger towards me. "God so help me, Jack-fucking-Fitzgerald, I will NEVER forgive you for this! All of you can go to hell!" He turned and barked at Joanne, "Come on! We're getting the hell out of here!" Joanne stood there, her hands covering her mouth and trying to stifle her quiet sobbing. "Joanne! Let's go! Now!"
Joanne looked at her children, pleadingly. Then she looked at me and said, "I'm so sorry, Jack. You're a good man."
"The hell he is! He's a fucking bastard and you don't need to talk to him!" he said, grabbing her by the arm.
"Hey! Parmelly!" my father yelled. "If you talk to my son that way one more time, I'm gonna rip your goddamned head off and shit down your fucking throat!" My father doesn't get pissed very often, but when he does, watch out!
Ed just gave everyone in the room one last pissed off look and dragged Joanne crying out of the room. The place was silent and had the feeling as though a bomb had just gone off. Wendy broke out in full sobs and collapsed into a chair.
"Oh, g-g-god, Jack," she wailed. "I-I-I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry!"
I knelt down in front of her and grabbed her into my embrace. I held her that way and tried my best to calm her and reassure her that she was going to be okay. Everyone else crowded around us and joined in a massive hug of healing.
"Oh, Jack! I can't even imagine what you must think of me right now!"
"I think you're beautiful! And you're the woman I love and want to spend the rest of my life with!"
"No, Jack," she said, shaking her head. "I'm the woman you should hate and want to divorce!"
"I didn't want to divorce you, Wendy. I just felt like I had no choice. I felt like I was never going to be loved by you as much as you loved Kevin."
"I'm so ashamed, Jack," she wailed. "Ed was right. He always knew what to say to me to get me to do what he wanted as far as Kevin went. He always knew how to push my buttons. And I let him."
"Ed was a manipulator who did so to cover his own pain," I explained.
"He's right, Jack (*sob*). If he had gotten to me in Hawaii and stated his case, he probably would have talked me into it. He would have made me think it was a great idea to have Kevin's baby and that Kevin would have wanted that. I don't know why I never saw it all before - our house, the pictures, Kevin's stuff - Ed could never let him go and he was never going to let me move on."
The realization that Wendy might have gone through with it was like a punch in the gut. But instead of getting angry, I just held her closer. I knew beyond a doubt that there was going to be a lot of therapy in our future - both because Wendy needed it and because I needed to know that I wasn't chained down by my own ghosts.
"It's okay, sweetheart," I reassured her. "It didn't happen. We're going to work through this. We're going to work on our marriage. And we're going to work on ourselves. If you give me a chance, Wendy, we'll come through this much stronger and better people. Will you give me that chance?"
Wendy looked at me through her drenched eyes in shock. "Are you serious, Jack? You file divorce papers on me and you're the one asking for another chance?"
My heart skipped a beat as I was afraid she was going to tell me to go to hell. But she answered my question by grabbing my face and pulling me in for the most sensuous, mouth-watering kiss we had ever shared. Even our tears blended together and in that moment, I knew for the first time in a long time that Wendy and I were going to make it. Everyone else sensed it, too, and they all filed out of the conference room, each stopping to hug us once more on their way out. I looked at Nate Parmelly and mouthed the words 'Thank you' as he was leaving. He simply winked and smiled.
Wendy kissed me again with as much passion and love as the first. Her lips told me everything I needed to know - that Wendy was mine...and mine only.
EPILOGUE
A lot has happened since that day in the conference room. Almost all of it has been for the better. Wendy has been promoted to the chair of the Foreign Language department at Red River Falls Community College. She is now only teaching one class per semester and has more regular work hours. She no longer teaches the English as a Second Language course, which she really misses, but was able to incorporate that program into the academic curricula of the college, giving new immigrants an opportunity to earn their first college credits at no cost to them. Wendy gained regional and national attention for her program and I couldn't be more proud of her.
I had been furthering my own education over the last few years by obtaining a Master's Degree in Public Safety Administration. In addition to that, I had also successfully completed several National Fire Academy courses in Andover, Maryland that focused on International Building Construction, International Building Codes, Fire Behavior and Investigation, and the world-renowned National Fire Academy Arson Investigator course. This resulted in my getting promoted to the Fire Marshal position at the Red River Falls Fire Department. I worked regular business hours now, unless there was a fire or incident, and Wendy and I were able to spend even more time together.
Wendy and I each found an individual counselor to work with. Both of them specialized in grief counseling, which we both needed. Mine also had a lot of experience working with Veterans with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and I began to realize that I had a lot of the same symptoms. Some were probably from Connie's accident but a lot were also from different experiences I had in my job as a firefighter and paramedic over the years. Anyone who has done that job, or been in law enforcement, for as long as I have has seen a lot of unpleasant things. My therapist helped me to learn from it and deal with my stressors.
We also found a terrific marriage counselor that helped us grow together as a couple and strengthen and enrich our marriage in ways that we never even thought of. One thing that we employed right away was our counselor's suggestion that we never sleep with a stitch of clothing. She said that couples who slept naked had the benefits of skin-on-skin contact when they slept, were more likely to cuddle together when sleeping, and that helped to form much closer emotional bonds.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

And, of course, couples who slept in the nude were always ready for sexual intimacy at a moment's notice. It is wonderful waking up a bit in the early morning hours and running my hands over Wendy's soft, delicious body. She wakes up slightly and responds with little moans and coos and she savors the sensation of my hands on her body. Inevitably, her nipples become erect and the sweet nectar of her delectable fiery pussy begins to flow. She'll turn to me for a kiss and reach down to stroke my turgid penis. After ten or fifteen minutes of increasingly passionate kissing and stroking of genitals, she slips her leg over mine and maneuvers herself onto my cock.

We absolutely savor lovemaking at this hour as it is somewhat sleepy and almost feels like an erotic dream! But it is a dream where only she and I play a part, no one else. Soon, our passion level rises and neither of us can hold back. We almost always come together and then bask in the soft afterglow, holding each other firm in our embrace. We drift off to sleep again, with our bodies and blood stream full of endorphins, and wake up each morning fully sated and refreshed.
We maintained separate households for about a month. After a few counseling sessions and beginning to grow closer and learning to forgive one another, Wendy was soon spending the night with me in my apartment. By the second month, she had put the house on the market and moved completely in with me. We decided to stay at the apartment for a while and take our time before rushing into finding a permanent home of our own. Needless to say, Ed Parmelly was pissed about selling the house. But Wendy hasn't spoken to him since the day at the attorney's office, not that Ed hasn't tried.
By Christmas time, the house had sold. We were getting closer and closer every day and we were feeling and acting like the newlyweds we really were.
Wendy gave most of her furniture to Nate Parmelly and Wyatt Helms as they decided to take the big step of moving in together. Interestingly, they chose to get a nice two-bedroom apartment in the same complex as us. We hosted a nice housewarming party for them. Greg, Bobby, Melinda, their spouses and all the grandkids attended. Joann attended; Ed did not.
But lately, there has been progress there, too. Ed and Joanne have, at the strong urging of just about everyone, gotten into a grief therapy program of their own. Ed seems to be coming to grips, finally, with losing Kevin. It is having an effect and he is starting to reconnect with Greg, Bobby and Melinda and is becoming much more involved with the grandchildren. Ed still hasn't fully accepted the fact that Nate is gay and still considers Wyatt to be Nate's "friend" but not his romantic partner. But the ice is thawing and there is always hope. Regardless of what you may think, I really wish no ill or evil upon Ed Parmelly. I, too, know what it is like to lose someone. And I just can't hate him for that.
At our six-month anniversary of our wedding, I picked up some flowers and drove Wendy early out to Rosewood cemetery where Kevin was buried. We laid the flowers on his grave and stood there. We had gone there many times before but that day I noticed Wendy didn't cry or act so somber as she usually did. She simply looked at his beautiful polished granite headstone with a smile and a look of fond remembrance. She laid a small envelope with a note in it at the base of the marker. After a few moments, Wendy took my hand and was going to lead me back to my truck.
"Go on ahead," I said. "I'll catch up in a bit."
Wendy gave me a puzzled look. "Are you sure? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I smiled. "Everything is fine. I promise. I just want a few minutes with Kevin by myself, if that's okay."
"Yeah. Absolutely," she said as she gave me a kiss on the lips. It was the first time she had ever kissed me while visiting the cemetery. She smiled at Kevin's headstone one more time and then turned to walk back to the truck.
"She's absolutely amazing, Kevin," I said to his headstone. "I want you to know that I promise to love her, cherish her, and protect her for the rest of my life. There is absolutely nothing I won't do to make her happy. I promise you that I will never raise a hand against her nor raise my voice in anger to her. I want you to know that your name will always be spoken of with respect and hallowed honor in our household and that I will never do anything to try and attain a place of more importance in her heart, only equal. And I promise you that I will love her for the rest of my life. God as my judge, I swear this oath to you, Kevin."
I stood there for a few moments more and then quietly turned and walked towards my truck. It was parked at the bottom of the hill from Kevin's grave. Standing outside the truck was my beautiful wife, her shocking red hair glowing brilliantly in the early morning sun. She absolutely radiated in a way I had never seen until that moment. I walked up to her, took her in my arms and we shared a brief but tender kiss.
"Let's go home," she said.
Home is the name for Heaven for those of us still on this earth; a place of love, warmth and a stage where life memories are made.
It was still early in the morning as we drove away, the sun still hovering above the eastern horizon. The sky was cloudless and blue and there was no wind. The city was just waking up and the incredible and peaceful calm reminded me how far we had come from the stormy, tempestuous days of our early marriage.
"I could see you were talking to him," Wendy said. "What did you say to him?"
"I told him that I would love you and cherish you for the rest of your life. And that his name and memory will always have a place of honor in our hearts and home."
Wendy sat there smiling and squeezed my hand tightly.
"Wanna know what was in the note that I left for him?"
"Only if you wanna tell me," I replied, somewhat uneasy.
"I told him that I was grateful for every minute we spent together and will always cherish his memory."
I looked at her, smiled and squeezed her hand back.
"And I also told him that I didn't think you would mind if Kevin was the first one I told that I'm going to be a mother."
I nearly slammed on the brakes of the big Ford in shock and then immediately chastised myself for doing so.
"Easy, Jack!" she giggled. "I'm in a delicate condition over here!"
"Oh, my God! You mean, you're..."
"Congratulations, Jack! You're going to be a father!" And she quickly unbuckled and crawled over for another one of her steel-melting kisses. "And before you even think it, no, there was no visit to the McMillan Women's Clinic," she giggled.
We embraced for a few moments before we realized that I had stopped dead on the road and a car was honking behind us. We both laughed and then waved an apology to the driver as he drove around us. Fortunately, it was someone I knew and he didn't get too pissed.
"I just can't believe it! I mean, we weren't even trying! And you're on the pill!"
"I know, I know! I guess that just means it was meant to happen!"
"I mean, how far along are you?"
"Not far. Only a few weeks. I should have had my period by now and I took an HPT after I got up this morning. There was a plus sign!!"
"And those things are supposed to be pretty accurate, right?"
"The box says over 98 percent!"
"Wow! I'm absolutely floating on air! And panicking! We gotta figure out what we're gonna do about a house, and a nursery, and baby clothes, and diapers. And what do we do if it is a boy or a girl?"
Wendy laughed. "I'm reasonably sure it is going to be one or the other, Jack!"
I laughed at myself. I was blubbering. My heart was racing a hundred miles an hour but was swelling with love as well. "Well, what do we do first?"
"Well," she said, "we've got some time before we have to worry about the big stuff. But for now, maybe we could start thinking about names."
I thought for a minute. "If it is a boy," I hesitated, wondering if it was right, "I think Kevin Fitzgerald has a really nice ring to it."
Wendy's eyes widened and her face lit up. "Really?!! That's so amazing! Because I was thinking that Connie Fitzgerald sounded perfect for a little girl!"
"Oh, my God! We share a brain!" We embraced for a passionate kiss.
"Come on," Wendy said. "Drive me home so we can have some hot pregger sex!"
"Oh, my! Is pregnancy gonna bring out your inner freak? 'Cuz that would be awesome!"
"I dunno about that, Jack. But you can at least take me home and fuck me a few times before the morning sickness kicks in!"
I laughed out loud. "Well, since you put it that way, I consider it an honor and a duty!"
"Just adding to your husbandly duties," she giggled.
"Well, you know what they say - If momma ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy!"
"That's a fact, Jack!"
And so we drove home - to make lots of love and memories!

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Darla's Dilemma


For more background on many of the characters in this story, please read the following:

What Mother-in-Law Wants
Badge of Betrayal
Clarissa Gets Served
Grab Life by the Balls
The Ghost of Red River Falls
This story also contains some graphic descriptions of domestic abuse. If you or someone you know is currently in an abusive relationship, please seek help or get them help. Domestic violence is a crime that should be tolerated by no one. If you have been a victim of domestic violence and think that stories of this nature may be upsetting to you, then please do not read this story.
For all others, I hope you enjoy the offering. As always, comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are always welcome. If you're just here to throw hand grenades, your comments will probably be deleted - especially if you post anonymously. Go be a jerk on someone else's time.
SB
Darla's Dilemma
A Red River Falls Spinoff Story
The long single tone of the pager went off at 02:47. Immediately I bolt upright in bed, flip on the nightstand light and spin sideways to plant my feet on the floor and listen to the dispatch.
"Attention Eagle Star pilot and crew, attention Eagle Star pilot and crew. Mason County Sheriff's Office is requesting your response for a motor vehicle collision with injuries on Highway 120, approximately 15 miles south of Red River Falls. Martindale Fire and Rescue are on scene. Accident involves a single-vehicle rollover. One fatality confirmed. Martindale Fire and Rescue advises prolonged extrication in progress. Time of call 02:47."
I quickly stand and zip up my flight suit and step into my boots. I grab the handheld radio next to the bed from its charger and begin making my way to the front door of the EMS crew apartment at Holy Family Medical Center. I hesitate long enough to hear the pilot and flight nurse acknowledge the call.
"Pilot copies. Pending weather check," Gene Emory, our pilot, replied.
"Nurse copies," Mara Kendrick, my nurse and partner, replied.
I thumbed the button on the Motorola handheld. "Paramedic copies."
"Ten-four. Crew copies, pending weather check."
Gene stopped by the pilot's desk and quickly brought up the weather page on the computer. Ceilings were unlimited, visibility greater than ten miles, winds light and variable with no gusts exceeding 10 miles per hour. Lunar illumination was 64%. The conditions for night flight didn't get much better.
"Holy Family base, Eagle Star will accept the flight," Gene advised.
"Copy. Accepting flight. Will advise Mason County deputies and Martindale Fire."
The three of us grab our gear and helmets and head for an express elevator, which will take us from the sixth floor to the ground floor immediately. Our helipad is located on the east side of Holy Family Medical Center and directly in front of the new $80 million Emergency Department. Sitting on that pad is our magnificent helicopter, a twin-engine Bell 429 Global Ranger air ambulance in her stunning two-tone silver and royal blue paint scheme.
Mara secured our EMS jump pack in the rear-facing seat just behind the pilot, who sits in the right front seat of the ship. With over 200 cubic feet of space there is ample room for the pilot up front, for Mara and I in the back, and for the ability to transport up to two patients.
Mara's seat swivels and slides on rails so she can either attend the patient from the side or she can manage the airway of a second patient, if necessary.
I secured the Zoll Propaq MD cardiac monitor in its place. We'll use that to monitor our patient's blood pressure, oxygenation, heart rhythm and other vital signs once he or she is on board with us.
I secure myself into my left-side rear-facing seat. I will be at the head of the patient once we pick them up. We can either load patients from the rear of the cabin underneath the tail boom or they can be loaded through the side doors of the ship. My primary job in flight will be airway management and monitoring the patient's vital signs.
My flight helmet is the last thing I don before closing the side door of the ship. I bring my Pinnacle PVS-23 Night Vision Goggles into place and begin checking my vision. The world around the ship erupts into varying shades of gray and black. Objects previously unseen present their shapes in perfect clarity. In particular, I make sure I can effectively identify utility poles, power lines and communications towers - all of which are some of the greatest threats to nighttime flying.
From his pilot's seat Gene yells, "CLEAR!" and he punches the actuator button that brings the Bell 429's powerful twin Pratt and Whitney PW-207D1 engines on line. The engines begin the windup process that, when they are at full power, will each deliver 730 shaft horsepower to the ship and generate enough power to reach speeds of 150 knots. The strong smell of Jet A fuel begins permeating through the cabin but is quickly dissipated once the ventilation systems kick in.
Once the engines are spun up, Gene calls out to Mara and I on the internal coms. "Crew and mission equipment ready for takeoff?"
"Ready on the left," I reply. "I have green in both tubes. I can see up, down and around. Belts, doors and switches secure."
"Ready on the right," Mara echoes. "I have green in both tubes. I can see up, down and around. Belts, doors and switches secure."
"Pilot copies crew and mission equipment ready for takeoff," Gene acknowledges. "Holy Family Base, Eagle Star Helicopter November-Niner-Niner-Four-Alpha-Lima taking off from Eagle Star base. We have three souls on board and two hours and thirty minutes of fuel. ETA to the scene is approximately six minutes."
"Eagle Star, good copy. Time of dust off, 02:52. Godspeed."
Gene brings the Bell 429's throttle to full power and a brief shaking occurs as the big helicopter strains against gravity while he pulls up on the collective. The 429 wins the fight and begins a smooth assent to a height of approximately 300 feet to ensure we are well above the height of the hospital building.
"Coming left," Gene says.
"Copy. Coming left," I reply. I give a quick scan and ensure there are no potential obstacles in our way.
"Clear right," Mara says, as she does the same. It is her job to look to the right as that is the direction the tail of the helicopter will swing in a left turn maneuver.
We've done this take-off maneuver in all directions hundreds of times ever since Holy Family has had a helicopter service. With the big Bell 429 facing south, Gene nudges forward on the stick and we begin racing southward towards the scene of the accident. I quickly thumb the switch on the main radio to the "mutual aid" setting so I can contact the Mason County Sheriff's Department and make sure the deputies and Martindale's first responders have established and secured a landing zone.
"Mason County Sheriff, this is Eagle Star. How do you copy?"
I wait a few seconds before hearing, "Eagle Star, this is Mason County 17-21."
"17-21, can you please advise if the landing zone has been secured?"
"10-4, Eagle Star. The scene is just north of Mile Marker 99. The vehicle is off the road approximately 80 feet. We have both north and southbound traffic stopped and a guard is posted to watch your tail rotor."
"Good copy, 17-21. Can you advise if the extrication is still in progress?"
"Eagle Star, it looks as if they are just about to get the victim out of the vehicle and onto a board."
"Good copy, 17-21. ETA is less than three minutes."
"10-4, Eagle Star. We're awaiting your arrival."
I craned my head and neck to try and look behind me as much as possible, which was to look towards the front of the helicopter. Through the canopy window I could see numerous red and blue flashing strobe lights indicating that we were less than two minutes from landing. Gene brought the big helicopter into a wide sweeping arc to give us all a view of the scene. He eventually brought the nose of the aircraft facing north.
"We got power lines on the east side of the roadway, Gene," Mara advised.
"Copy. I got eyes on," Gene confirmed. Again, communications towers and utility poles and wires were among the biggest threats to a helicopter attempting to land in the dark. Gene kept his eyes steady on his altimeter and, with his view through his night vision goggles, he executed yet another flawless landing right on the hard asphalt of Highway 120.
"Holy Family base, Eagle Star is on scene. Preparing for a hot load and go. ETOS ten minutes." ETOS is 'Estimated Time On Scene'.
"Good copy, Eagle Star. Time is 02:59."
I took my helmet and goggles off and gently set them on my seat after I unbuckled. The first thing I grabbed was my stethoscope so I could listen to lung sounds of the patient before loading them into the helicopter. Once on board, I'd never be able to hear anything. I also grabbed our jump kit, which contained the bulk of our medical supplies, including everything for a trauma.
I debarked from my side of the ship and immediately started looking for the Incident Commander. Several fire trucks were on scene and had the scene of the accident lit up fairly well. The vehicle, a two-door Camaro, had left the highway and rolled multiple times. The vehicle was probably a good 60 or 80 feet from the road and somehow had managed to land on all four wheels, although it was heavily damaged.
I found the person I was looking for, one of the Martindale volunteer firefighters, who happened to be wearing a red helmet while all of the others were wearing yellow helmets.
"Hi. My name is Daulton Anderson," I yelled over the roar of the still-running chopper. "What can you tell me so far?"
"We have one confirmed fatality," he shouted back. "The driver of the vehicle wasn't belted in and got ejected. He's under that yellow tarp out in the field," he said, pointing to a spot that was almost another 80 feet from where the vehicle landed. "They were going northbound, headed back to Red River Falls. Lost control and flipped over ten times before striking that giant dead oak tree on the passenger side. Probably doing 80 or 90 mph, maybe even faster. The passenger is a female. She's got at least one broken arm and possibly a busted femur, at least that's what the first responders said. I can't believe she's still alive. Oh, looks like they've got her out now!"
I saw a group of firefighters and EMTs carefully placing the patient on a back board. They had a cervical collar in place and I could see her moving her left arm for sure. One of the EMTs was holding the right one in place and trying to apply a splint. I rushed down to the area where they were working on her.
"Don't worry about applying a splint," I instructed. "As long as there is no bleeding, just place the arm next to her body and strap her down to the back board. What else is wrong with her?"
"She's probably got a busted femur and busted tib-fib, both on the right leg," one of the responders said. "Not sure, but we think she might have a broken pelvis, too."
"Set her down and let me do a quick assessment before we load her," I directed.
The female was fairly young, probably 23 to 27 years old. She had numerous cuts all over her face, which made her look worse because the face tends to bleed a lot, even from minor wounds. She also had a non-rebreather oxygen mask in place. I quickly scanned her pupils, which were sluggish but equally reactive to my pen light. There was no blood coming from her eyes, ears, nose or mouth. The smell of alcohol was prevalent as I got close to her face. Most ominous, she didn't really react verbally and was obviously in shock.
The right thigh was significantly larger than the left, indicating an obvious femur fracture and bleeding heavily inside. And she shrieked in pain when I pushed in on the sides of her pelvis. I could also feel movement in the pelvis as I applied pressure - a surefire sign that the pelvis had fractured. Normally, we would apply a traction splint to reduce the femur fracture in the field. But putting one on in this case would only pull apart the broken bones in the tibia and fibula and do nothing for the more serious femur fracture, which can bleed - A LOT.
Her left lung sounds were good and active but the right lung sounds were severely diminished and her right rib cage was heavily bruised, indicating multiple broken ribs but no flail segments, which are ribs broken into places. More importantly, it was obvious that the trachea was starting to shift to the left, indicating that the right lung was collapsing. When this happens, the lung doesn't really deflate. Instead, air starts to build up in the space between the lung and the chest wall, which increases pressure on the lung, thereby causing it to "collapse". In reality, it is trapping air that will not allow the lung to inflate properly and basically squeezes it shut. Also her abdomen was rigid and firm with no audible bowel sounds present, which was another indication of internal bleeding.
I quickly reached into my flight suit's side cargo pocket and grabbed a quick set for an IV. I applied a tourniquet quickly and found the patient still had a good left antecubital vein, which is on the inner part of the elbow, as the left arm did not appear to be injured. I quickly stuck a large 16 gauge catheter in the vein and applied a saline lock, which is a short piece of closed IV tubing that can be connected to longer tubing later to administer IV fluids. I flushed the IV quickly with a 10 milliliter syringe of fluid to ensure the IV was good and secured it with a transparent dressing and tape. The IV stick only took about 90 seconds. Then I shouted "Helicopter! Now!"
Normally, we didn't delay transport to do an IV but I felt it was imperative to get the IV quickly as she was going deeper into shock. The more her blood pressure dropped, the more difficult it would be to get IV access.
The group of EMTs and firefighters scooped up the backboard and patient and we moved to the roaring Bell 429. Mara had the clamshell doors open on the back. I stopped our group and made eye contact with the pilot and Gene gave us a thumbs-up to proceed to the loading area. Absolutely NO ONE approaches the tail of an active helicopter without the pilot's knowledge. Mara met us there and we secured the backboard into place on the left cot, slid her into place in front of my seat and climbed aboard, thanking the EMTs and firefighters for doing a great job. One of them handed me a slip of paper with some patient info on it before they all ducked low and walked away from the helicopter.
I immediately placed my helmet back on and buckled into place as Mara slid her seat into place alongside the patient. She immediately applied the blood pressure cuff and pulse oxymetry probe to the patient and switched her oxygen mask's line to our onboard oxygen system.
"What all do we have, Daulton?" Mara asked over the intercom.
"Fractures of the right humerus, right femur, right tib-fib. No traction to the right leg possible. Possible pelvic fracture, as well. Gonna need to apply a tie-sheet to reduce. She's also working on a right-side tension pneumothorax. We've got tracheal shift to the left side. Tummy is hard and tender and I heard no bowel sounds."
"Okay. I can see the shift. Let's go ahead and get ready for decompression. Let's work on reducing the pelvis and we'll see how her BP is afterwards after we hang fluid. We'll also get Tranexamic Acid hanging, as well. Gene, we can take off but I'm gonna need to unbuckle once we are on our way, okay?"
"Copy," Gene acknowledged. It was extremely important to let Gene know everything that was going on in the back, as much as possible, especially if we needed to unbuckle and move around in the back of the ship as it can affect flight characteristics.
Once we have a patient on board our call sign changes from "Eagle Star" to simply "Lifeguard", which is a signal to all aircraft in the area to give us priority clearance. Also, we fall under the control of Hector International Airport out of Fargo to maintain our airspace clearance.
"Contact, Hector International. This is Lifeguard Helicopter November-Niner-Niner-Four-Alpha-Lima. We are dusting off from the scene, en route to Holy Family pad, heading three-five-five, speed one-two-zero knots. We have four souls on board and approximately two hours and 10 minutes of fuel. ETA eight minutes."
"Lifeguard November-niner-niner-four-alpha-lima, Hector International. Good copy. I have you on radar. Maintain current speed and heading. You are clear for priority approach to Holy Family pad. Copy ETA of 8 minutes."
In the back, I quickly exposed the right breast area of the patient and palpated the area between the 2nd and 3rd rib and referenced that with the nipple line. As I did so, I noticed through my gloved fingers that her skin now felt like rice paper. Thousands of tiny air bubbles were forming under the skin, which is called subcutaneous emphysema, from the collapsing right lung. I quickly scrubbed the area with an iodine swab and grabbed a large two-inch long 14-gauge IV needle. I pushed straight downward through the skin and felt a "pop" sensation once the needle penetrated the right lung space. I pulled the metal stylette out while holding the hollow plastic catheter in place and was greeted with a quick hiss of escaping trapped air and some bloody bubbles from the right lung. It was a temporary fix until the patient could get a chest tube in place. But it helped equalize the lung pressure and allowed the right lung to begin "inflating" again by getting rid of the trapped air.
Mara grabbed an extra bed sheet and slid it underneath the patient's buttocks as gently as she could. Together, we pulled as tightly as we could to squeeze the patient's hips together and then tied a tight square knot to hold it in place. The patient was now more alert and talking following the lung decompression and after applying the improvised pelvic harness. I could see that she was trying to talk to me but it was nearly impossible for me to understand what she was saying through the oxygen mask and the noise of the ship.
All I could do was yell, "My name is Daulton! I'm a paramedic! You were in a bad accident! We're taking you to Holy Family Medical Center in Red River Falls! You're hurt pretty bad but we're going to take very good care of you! Do you understand?"
The patient simply nodded her head 'yes' as much as she could with the cervical collar in place around her neck. I notified Gene that I was going to change frequencies and immediately switched our radio over to the hospital channel to contact Holy Family's Emergency Department. I glanced at the Propaq monitor to assess the patient's vital signs and was not pleased with what I saw as her blood pressure continued to drop and was now 70/45.
"Holy Family ER, this is Eagle Star. Come online for trauma report."
Katie Stevens, the ER charge nurse, came online to take my report. "Eagle Star, this is Holy Family. Go ahead."
"Holy Family, we have an approximately 25 year old female patient who was involved in a single-vehicle rollover with significant damage. Be advised there was a fatality in the same vehicle." I was speaking into my microphone in a normal voice, which was good as I didn't want the patient to freak out when I notified the ER of a fatality. "Patient has an obvious fracture of the right humerus, right femur, right tib-fib and a high probability of a pelvic fracture. Abdomen is rigid, as well, and no bowel sounds present. Patient presented with an obvious right lung tension pneumothorax, which was reduced with a 14-gauge needle decompression. Initial oxygen saturation was 85% on high-flow O2. Saturation is now 99% and tracheal deviation is reduced. We have a large-bore IV in place with normal saline running wide open. TXA is also infusing at this time.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Blood pressure is 70/45, pulse is 138, respirations are 24, and temp is 37 degrees Celsius. Cardiac monitor shows sinus tachycardia, rate of 138 with occasional PVCs." PVC stands for Premature Ventricular Contraction and can be a possible precursor to cardiac arrest. "Patient is secured on a back board with c-collar. Extrication time was plus-20 minutes. ETA to the pad is approximately 2 minutes. Requesting trauma alert and personnel to meet us for a hot unload. How copy, Holy Family?"

"Good copy," Katie replied. "We've been monitoring the scene and a trauma alert has been called. Trauma and neurosurgeons' ETA's are less than five minutes. Personnel are standing by on the pad and awaiting your arrival."
"Good copy. Eagle Star out."
Gene once again brought the helicopter into a wide arc and Mara and I put our night vision goggles back on.
"Crew and mission equipment ready for landing?" Gene asked.
"Ready on the left," I replied. "Belts, doors and switches secure."
"Ready on the right," Mara confirmed. "Belts, doors and switches secure."
"Copy. Crew and mission equipment ready for landing." Gene flipped on the belly-mounted landing lights of the helicopter and illuminated the pad from above. We could see a gurney and four personnel ready to help us unload. Like always, Gene executed another flawless landing and brought the big ship down gently and dead-center on the pad. "Holy Family base, Eagle Star is back on the pad, time now."
"Copy, Eagle Star. Time is 3:17. Welcome home."
Mara immediately unbuckled and opened the clamshell doors at the back. The awaiting gurney crew made eye contact with Gene and was rushing over to meet us. All four of them were already donned in full trauma gear with gloves, gowns, masks, hoods, booties and face shields to protect them from blood and body fluids. We quickly released the cot and slid it towards the back of the ship. I grabbed the Propaq monitor and the IV bags and exited the ship as the patient was quickly placed on the gurney and rushed into the Emergency Department, all the while the ship was still operating at full power prior to shutting down.
We rushed into the main trauma room where two emergency department physicians and nearly twenty other personnel were waiting for us. Several units of O-negative blood had been brought down from the lab and were ready to be infused into the patient immediately. Portable x-ray machines were standing by outside the ED and CT technicians were on standby in the CT room ready to obtain more in-depth imagery when called upon.
A few minutes later Doctor Marcelino, a trauma surgeon, and Doctor Chandraskatta, a neurosurgeon, both arrived to direct their part of the situation. A respiratory therapist and the anesthesiologist on-call both arrived and a gastroenterologist had been paged and was expected shortly.
Within 5 minutes, we had another large-bore IV in place and the patient was actively receiving blood products. At the same time, the first radiology images had come in and confirmed that the patient did, indeed, have all of the fractures we had noted. Within another ten minutes, the CT scan had been performed and showed the remnants of the collapsed lung, along with the presence of a large amount of blood in the patient's pelvis and abdomen. Blessedly, the CT of her head and neck revealed no signs of a brain injury or spinal injury. Thank God for small miracles.
A surgical staff consisting of numerous surgical techs, nursing assistants, as well as trauma and surgical nurses, had assembled and prepped an operating room for emergency surgery. Within twenty minutes of touching down, the patient had been sedated and had a breathing tube inserted in her airway, as well as a chest tube placed, and she was rushed off to the surgical suite for emergency surgery.
Mara and I stood there as the last member of the trauma entourage left the trauma room. What had been an incredibly busy, noisy and bustling room only a few short moments before was now empty and took on an eerie silence. The trauma room was a total mess and would probably take the environmental services staff the better part of an hour to clean up, along with the nurses and ER technicians who would have to restock all of the supplies that were used.
Mara and I gathered up our own equipment and replaced all of the supplies that we had used on the scene and during the subsequent return flight. All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through my body moments earlier now seemed to be quickly exiting my blood stream and the energy was being replaced by an overwhelming sense of fatigue.
Gene had made it back to the flight crew dormitory before we did, after having plugged in the helicopter's battery charger and topping off the ship's fuel. With our medical supplies replenished, Eagle Star was officially back in service.
Since the flight was a trauma call, it was my responsibility to write the patient care report. Most of our calls are medical calls that involve transporting patients from one hospital to another. On those flights, Mara took the lead in patient care. But since paramedics generally have more hands-on experience working scene calls for accidents, we generally took the lead in patient care on those calls. Make no mistake, though. As the Flight Nurse, Mara Kendrick was still ultimately responsible for patient care. She trusted me, though, and was more than confident in my abilities to provide excellent patient care. It also didn't hurt that I worked with her husband, Josh, in my full-time job as a firefighter and paramedic with the Red River Falls Fire Department. I only worked for Eagle Star about 2 or 3 shifts a month and they were usually only 12-hour shifts, whereas the full-time medics worked 24-hour shifts.
I finally finished documenting the call around 4:30 am. I decided to try and catch a few z's before I had to drive back home to my place in Royal Fork, which was about 45 minutes west of Red River Falls. Our shift on the helicopter starts and ends at 7 am, so I took advantage of the opportunity to catch some extra sleep. I'd have Mara look over my report before she left for home, just in case she had anything she wanted to add that I might have forgotten or overlooked.
Overall, I felt the call went really well. We were only on scene for ten minutes, had accomplished a lot of patient care on scene and during the flight back to Holy Family. The first responders and firefighters from Martindale did an excellent job cutting the patient out of that mangled wreck and the Mason County Deputies and state troopers on scene did an excellent job setting up the landing zone. I couldn't really see much room for improvement, though there were always things that we could do better.
But often enough, sometimes you can do everything right and bad things can still happen. And in this instance, it was one of those times. Stephanie Pinkerton and her boyfriend, Ziggy Alexopolous, had been partying with friends at the only operating bar in Martindale and had decided to race home afterwards. Both Stephanie and Ziggy had been drinking but Ziggy had way too much and had absolutely no business behind the wheel of any vehicle. But he wanted to show off for Stephanie and stretch his new-to-him Chevy Camaro to the limits and lost control of the vehicle. An autopsy would show Ziggy's blood alcohol content was 0.25 - over three times the legal limit by state law.
Less than 20 minutes after getting her into emergency surgery, Stephanie Pinkerton died on the operating table from massive internal hemorrhaging. She was a month shy of her 26th birthday. She left behind a six-year old daughter and a three-year old son.
I live in the town of Royal Fork, which is about 45 miles west of Red River Falls, where I worked. I couldn't help but replay the entire call over and over in my mind and wonder if there was something I could have done or something I shouldn't have done that would have made a difference in the outcome. The smart part of me knew that there was almost nothing that really could have changed the result, especially when one considers the amount of trauma the young lady had suffered.
The emotional part of me, however, always desires and needs some kind of explanation for why a person dies instead of lives through a trauma. It is the way that most firefighters, paramedics, law enforcement, doctors and nurses are wired. We always want to believe that there was at least one thing that could have made a difference. I guess it is sort of an internal quality assurance process we put ourselves through.
I pulled into the driveway of my house, which is a mid-1970s split-level home with an attached two-stall garage. I parked my 2014 Taurus in the right hand spot. The left parking spot was reserved for my live-in girlfriend, Darla Jones. Darla had moved in with me about four months ago, along with her five-year old daughter Natalie and her three-year old little boy, Nathan. Darla's divorce from her husband of the previous seven years, Randy Jones, would be finalized in a little over a month.
Most of my friends had told me to beware of getting involved with a woman who was separated and not divorced yet - especially my best friend, Danny Larson. Danny was particularly vocal about his concerns, mostly because he had known Darla and Randy before I did. They had been together since their high college days and had a pretty rocky relationship the entire time. They had broken up numerous times in high college, only to eventually get back together again. Several other guys had been interested in Darla and probably would have treated her a helluva lot better than Randy ever had. But none of them could break Randy's spell that he held over Darla.
I had met Darla through some mutual friends of our down at the local watering hole here in Royal Fork, a bar called 'The Half-Pint'. I was immediately smitten with her. She was a natural and dark complexioned brunette with eyes so brown they were almost black. She was packed into a small 5-foot 1-inch frame with a spectacular set of D-breasts that gave her the most delicious-looking curves I had ever seen on a woman. She was short but she was an absolute dynamo of sex and beauty.
We took our time getting to know one another, especially since she was in the process of going through a divorce. Somehow, I managed to win her over and we began dating exclusively. About three months into our relationship, we decided to move her and the kids out of Darla's parent's house and into mine. I have three bedrooms and two full bathrooms so it seemed to make perfect sense. Plus, I was absolutely crazy about Natalie and Nathan and quickly began bonding with them from the moment we first met.
I hadn't even met Randy Jones. Shortly before Darla served him with divorce papers for his chronic drinking and womanizing, he supposedly took off for one of the burgeoning oil fields up in North Dakota and got a job as some type of laborer for one of the oil companies. Darla hadn't heard from him the entire time we have been together. The divorce proceedings were largely uncontested, up to this point, and Randy's attorney consented to the terms, which essentially meant Darla could have all the furniture and whatever was in the checking account, which wasn't much. The judge issued a temporary custody agreement and Randy was ordered to pay a miserly $200.00 in child support each month, which had been based off the income of his last known steady job, which was working as a clerk at one of two large convenience stores in Royal Fork, the Pump-N-Shop.
I entered the house from the garage, went upstairs to the kitchen and put my overnight bag and keys on the kitchen table. Immediately, something caught my attention. It was extremely faint but it was undoubtedly the smell of cigarette smoke. I walked around the upper floor and into the kids' bedrooms and finally the master bedroom trying to locate the source of the smell. Nothing seemed out of place in any of the rooms. I couldn't tell where it was coming from but the smell was unmistakable. Someone had been smoking in my house.
I stepped out onto the deck and looked around for cigarette butts. I saw nothing at first but decided to check further. I walked down the stairs to the bottom of the deck and looked underneath it. There on the ground were four cigarette butts. Marlboro Lights. I knew Darla didn't smoke and I hadn't had anyone else over to my house, such as a repairman or delivery man. Judging by the smell of the cigarettes inside the house, I could only conclude that someone had been smoking on the deck and then entered the house, bringing some of the smoke with him or her.
No one was at home right now other than me. Nathan was at daycare and Natalie went to a morning pre-college and afternoon daycare with Nathan. Darla was at her job over at C,.'an Manufacturing. C,.'an was the biggest factory in Royal Fork and one of the biggest employers. Darla worked there on the first shift from 8 am to 4 pm. C,.'an's made a variety of trailers - everything from flatbed semi-trailers, to cattle and horse trailers, to car haulers and a bunch of smaller utility and landscaping trailers.
I couldn't think of anyone that Darla might have had over. None of her immediate family smoked and neither did any of her friends, at least not that I know of. I decided to put the thought out of my head and grab a shower to wash the funk of a 24-hour shift off of me. I felt more human again after the shower and decided to tinker on a few projects around the house until everyone got home.
Darla and the kids got home shortly after 4:15 that afternoon. Darla looked tired and the kids were both rambunctious. But Natalie and Nathan both ran up to me and gave me a big hug. The two little ankle biters were really starting to grow on me. I was quickly getting to the point where I couldn't imagine my life without the two of them and their mom.
Darla looked exhausted from her day on the job. Believe it or not, she was a welder on one of the main assembly lines. I went ahead and got dinner started, which was just a simple casserole of Mac-n-Cheese and chicken along with jello, which the kids loved. It wasn't fancy but it was filling. I really enjoyed sitting around the table with Darla and the kids.
After dinner, Darla helped me clear the table and I washed the dishes. She had been getting on my case ever since she moved in about getting a dishwasher installed but I hadn't found it necessary yet. Besides, when I was still "batching" it, I never really used enough dishes on a regular basis to warrant one.
"So, how was work today?" I asked.
"Oh, the usual for the most part," Darla replied, drying the casserole pan. "It sounds like they are actually planning on adding some new people, so we might be able to cut back on some of the mandatory overtime."
"That'd awesome! Maybe you, the kids and I can actually take off for a whole weekend some time soon."
"Well," she hesitated, "probably not until college lets out for summer in a few weeks."
"Yeah, I suppose," I said. "Say, just out of curiosity, did anybody stop by yesterday while I was gone?"
Darla didn't look at me but kept drying a plate. "No, not that I remember. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. I thought I could smell a whiff of cigarettes smoke when I came home this morning."
"Well, the only person in my family who smokes is my Dad but he didn't stop over yesterday."
"Yeah, I know," I said, pensively. "Besides, your dad smokes Camels."
"What does that have to do with it?" She still wasn't looking at me.
"Aw, nothing. I just found a few Marlboro butts underneath the deck out back." As I said that, I noticed Darla inhale deeply. It was obvious that she knew something but was holding it back.
"I dunno," she said. "It was probably just one of the utility meter readers or something. I'm sure it was either the water or electricity guy. Both of those meters are under the deck, you know." I could see her relax a bit with that answer.
"Hmm. Possibly," I answered. "But those guys are on a schedule and move pretty quickly. I doubt either of them would stop to have a cigarette under my deck. One maybe, but probably not four."
Darla quickly put away her drying towel. "I'm gonna go get the kids started on their baths," she said heading towards their bedrooms.
"Kinda early for baths, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she called back. "But they were both up kind of late last night and I want to get them to bed a little early tonight. Besides, you know how they both hate baths."
Yes, I did know. But she usually never made them take a bath until right before bed, which was always 8:30 sharp so they were in bed by nine at the latest. She was obviously avoiding me. Darla gave the kids their baths and we all just kind of vegged out in front of the TV the rest of the night watching a couple of kids shows on Netflix. Darla said very little to me before we went to bed and seemed overly engrossed in the children. But I sensed she was intentionally ignoring me.
We both stayed up to watch the news, not that I would remember any of it with the 800 pound elephant in the room. I was the first to crawl into bed and waited for Darla. She came to bed wearing a simply one-piece night shirt. It never ceased to amaze me who she could look sexy in just about anything. She got into bed, gave me a quick kiss goodnight and then immediately rolled over facing away from me. I slid over and spooned in behind her and immediately began roaming my hands over her body, which was my silent way of initiating sex. Darla grabbed my hand and pulled my arm around her in an embrace.
"Sorry, babe. It's just been a long day and I'm really wiped out," she said.
"No problem," I answered, deflated. "I understand."
Truth is, I didn't understand. In the entire time we have been together, that was the first time that she had ever refused me sexually. That's not to say we had sex every single night we were together, obviously. But that was the first time she had ever refused me when I tried to initiate it. I laid there and just cuddled her but I knew she was having just as much trouble falling asleep as I was. Something was obviously not right. And the cigarettes were a major clue.
*****
I got up at five the next morning, got cleaned up and ready for work. I kissed Darla on the forehead at 5:45, got into my car and headed for Red River Falls. She barely stirred when I kissed her and I sensed that she was only feigning sleep.
I got to the fire station a little after 6:30 and got my gear ready for work. My job title is actually that of a firefighter but I'm assigned as a senior paramedic to one of three ambulances we staff. Our fire coverage is only for the city of Red River Falls but we provide ambulance coverage for almost all of Mason County. Most of the smaller towns in Mason County, such as Martindale, have a fire department with a few members who are certified as First Responders. Therefore, they are the first ones to arrive on the scene of a medical emergency while an ambulance gets dispatched from Red River Falls.
A couple of the bigger towns, like Royal Fork, have their own volunteer ambulance services. There are six members of the Red River Falls Fire Department who live in Royal Fork. Unlike a lot of other departments around the country, we are not required to live in the city we serve. Since we provide EMS coverage or assistance to most of Mason County, we are allowed to live anywhere within Mason County.
I chose Royal Fork because it was more than just a wide spot in the road. It was an actual town with local shops, gas stations and even a grocery store - unlike the folks in Martindale, population 300, who had to drive over 15 miles just to get a jug of milk. Royal Fork had about 4500 people and a fairly active main street with a good number of local businesses. The college district was centered there and actually managed to gain a few students this last college year. I especially liked the fact that I could find a decent house in Royal Fork. I only paid about $100,000 for my split-level but I would have paid another twenty or thirty grand for the same house in Red River Falls.