Secrets, p.7
Secrets, page 7
“So you cannot ‘make a move,’ as they say, without permission?” Chi-Chi asked.
Cullen let out a guffaw. “I know it sounds crazy, but this is what it has come down to.”
Chi-Chi sat back, pondering this new information. She had dated several men, but the relationships never moved forward enough to the point of sex. Likewise, her religious beliefs forbade premarital sex regardless where you lived. That was one of the few moral imperatives that her family had instilled in her. At thirty-four, she was still a virgin. She often wondered if she would ever fall in love, but she knew she liked Cullen very much. Maybe that was what love was supposed to be about. Liking someone very much.
As they pulled into the parking lot of the center, Chi-Chi kept her focus straight ahead. “So if I wanted someone to kiss me, I would have to ask them to?”
“Awkward, huh?” Cullen was expressing his own feelings at the moment.
“Indeed.” Chi-Chi thought about everything Cullen had said. She would save the invitation for another time. Someplace a little more romantic than a parking lot. She hoped that when she did ask, he would be happy to oblige. In the meantime, she would find out what kind of invitation was necessary.
Chapter Six
Marion, NC
That evening
Tori was relieved to see that her husband’s pickup was not in the driveway. She knew he wouldn’t wait for her, but she was relieved nonetheless. She removed the small bag of groceries and entered the house through the side door. It occurred to her that no one ever used the front door. So strange. It wasn’t as if it was a big walk from the gravel driveway to the front of the house.
They lived in a small ranch. It had been built in the 1950s under the G.I. Bill. A number of similar developments throughout North Carolina had been built at the same time. The tobacco industry and furniture manufacturing had enticed many looking for a decent wage and a safe place to raise a family. Tori and her husband had bought the place from the son of the original owner. After his folks died, he decided to move his family to a less rural part of the state. It was a quaint, historic town, named for Brigadier General Francis Marion, a Revolutionary War hero who earned the nickname “Swamp Fox.”
Located in the Blue Ridge Mountains, it was also in the middle of nowhere and somewhere else. The scenery was beautiful, with the backdrop of the Pisgah National Forest, the highest point east of the Mississippi. For people who loved the outdoors, the hiking trails were magnificent.
It was a relatively quiet, historical town with fewer than eight thousand residents. As far as the crime rate, drunk and disorderly was commonplace, as well as domestic disturbances. When there were serious crimes, the FBI or the U.S. Marshal Service usually stepped in. For the most part, her husband’s job wasn’t dangerous. Almost boring. And so was her life. The only excitement for her was her job. Except for the occasional domestic quarrel during a divorce action, it was a relatively quiet and predictable job. For that she was thankful.
Tori put the groceries away and snatched her white bag of pastry pleasure. She clicked on the TV to watch the last of the news. Not much new. She thought they should rename it S.O.S. for “same old stuff.” She licked her fingers, savoring the buttery morsels of delight. It dawned on her that if something so small could make her feel this good, imagine how good she would feel if she could sweeten the rest of her life. She giggled. Yes, it was a pastry epiphany. Or a sugar high. She was going to be on top of her game even if she didn’t know what the game was. Yet. But she had hope. Faith. She had to remind herself that in spite of fleeing from home right after high school and having a baby at nineteen, she had a good job at a respectable law firm.
She finished off the final piece and tried to shake the crumbs into her mouth. Instead, they got all over her shirt. She giggled again. Time to take a long hot bath and begin to discover who she was.
Tori ran the tub, sprinkling Epsom salts under the spigot. Her doctor told her it was safe to use it in a warm bath and it would help with any stress. She thought about it. Stress. It was odd that she didn’t feel it. Not at that moment. She felt invigorated. Maybe it was her hormones. She slid farther down into the cozy water and propped a rubber pillow under her neck. She strained her mind, trying to remember the last time she had treated herself to this kind of relaxation.
She thought about the past twenty years. How had they gone by so quickly? Retracing her life, she remembered the excitement of their first year of marriage. Sure, there were ups and downs, but they kept, or maybe she kept believing they would have a good, solid, happy life together. For the most part, it was solid. Financially comfortable. He was paid well and had benefits. Good? Yes, when her son was growing up. Happy? Not so much anymore. It was the same old adage about growing apart.
After Brendon was born, she went back to work at the restaurant, but the hours were tough. She managed to juggle her schedule for several years until her son was in grammar school. With Brendon being involved in a lot of activities, doing the chores, shopping, and working, Tori was beginning to feel weary. And she was only twenty-six at the time.
One of the restaurant’s frequent customers owned a small law practice in town. He was several years her senior. Maybe the age her father might be now. He was a kind man who usually ate alone. If it was a slow night, she would stop by his table and chat. He seemed to appreciate the company. They would talk about her son mostly. How fast kids grow up. Over the years, she discovered he was a widower and had a couple of grandchildren. One evening, he told her his receptionist-assistant was going to retire and he needed to replace her. Much to her surprise, and out of the blue, he offered Tori the job. “Why don’t you come and work for me?”
Tori was dumbstruck. “Mr. Layton, I don’t know anything about the law.”
“You seem like a quick study, and I’ll pay you double what you’re making here.”
“But you don’t even know what that is!” Tori smiled.
“I can guess.” He paused. “I’ve seen how you manage the crowd here. I know you’re in charge of ordering supplies and making the schedules. You’re a bright young woman. I think you’ll do fine.”
“Seriously, Mr. Layton. I am truly speechless.”
Tori could not believe her luck. A regular job in a regular office, with regular people.
“I’ve been coming here every Friday night for years. You are always kind and efficient. With Dorothy leaving, I really need someone to keep me and Robert in line. We can’t be trusted on our own.” He let out a guffaw.
“I don’t know anything about working in an office,” Tori responded.
“You’ll learn. Besides, most of our clients are regular people who need wills drawn, real-estate closings, a few divorces, and a little estate planning. And I use that term lightly. It’s not as if we have a lot of estates in this area. The bigger money is closer to Asheville, but it’s a good, decent practice, and I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
Tori was truly taken aback by his offer. “Can I talk it over with my husband?”
“Of course. The hours are ten to four Monday through Friday. No weekends, no evenings. The salary is twenty dollars per hour.”
“Are you sure you’re not a salesman?” Tori joked.
George Layton laughed. “I was when I was in law school! You think about it and give me a call. The sooner the better. Dorothy is leaving at the end of the month, and I’d like her to be able to show you the ropes.” He handed her his business card. “Please. Think about your little boy. You’ll have more time with him. My only concern is that if I steal you from this place, they may start spitting in my food!” Both let out a big cackle, causing other guests to turn their heads.
Tori took the card and tapped it in her hand. “I will certainly think about it.” But she knew she was going to accept. She just had to run it past her husband first. Heaven forbid she make a decision without him.
It had been a no-brainer. The money and the hours were so much better than the grind of being a mom and housewife all day, then being a hostess at the busiest restaurant four nights a week. When she told her husband about the offer, he had a mixed reaction. The money was a great incentive, but it would put Tori in front of an entirely different situation. He liked the way things were. Predictable. It was a reaction from when he was in his teens and his entire life was chaos.
Tori remembered the feeling she had when she accepted the job. Elation. And for some odd reason, she was feeling that same emotion now. She rested a hand on her belly. Maybe it was her hormones.
As the water became tepid, she decided it was time to dry off and make a cup of tea. She wondered how long she could keep her pregnancy a secret. Another month, perhaps.
Over the past twelve years, she had learned a lot at Layton and Bellows, Attorneys-at-Law. If the office was quiet, she would read articles from various law journals. Some of it was way over her head, but she never hesitated to ask questions. Both partners appreciated her interest and encouraged her. Even though she had no illusion of going to college, let alone law school, she was a quick study and was especially interested in family law. One particular article about grandparents’ visitation rights was startling. She couldn’t imagine having to go to a lawyer to see your own grandchild. Not that it mattered in her life. Brendon would never know his maternal grandmother or grandfather, and his paternal grandparents were MIA. For two people to have so much in common, it was a mystery how they had grown so far apart. She would feel bad for Brendon not having grandparents, but in the case of her parents and her in-laws, he was much better off.
She also felt bad that he had no siblings. Not yet anyway. But it would have been nice if he had a family unit he could be a part of. Maybe that’s why she was so close to him. She tried to protect him from loneliness and any feelings of abandonment without being a helicopter mom. All in all, Brendon was a well-adjusted, responsible young man. He had a good head on his shoulders. She sighed. She missed his humor and his attention.
She wrapped herself in a long, plush robe, made some chamomile tea, and settled into bed with a book. Around eleven, she saw the headlights of the pickup pull into the driveway. Normally, she would be half asleep, and he would fall into bed. Sometimes he would kiss her on the head. But tonight was different. She wanted to see what it was like to have a conversation with him at the end of his day and an evening of bacchanalian behavior.
She heard him rattle around the kitchen for a few minutes, opening and closing the refrigerator door. “Whoa! Check it out!” She surmised that he had found the bologna and cheese.
Tori called out to him. “That’s for lunch tomorrow, hon.”
He came sauntering into the bedroom. “Well lookie here. You’re awake!”
She smiled up at him. “I am.” He bent over to give her a kiss, his breath smelling of sour beer. She kept smiling. “So you found your surprise?”
He plopped down on the side of the bed and took off his boots and tossed them toward the closet. Tori suppressed a cringe. She had asked him repeatedly to leave them in the laundry room over the years. She realized the shoe thing and the socks-on-the-floor thing were inherent in males.
“Whacha readin’?” he asked, as if he were interested. Tori thought maybe it was his idea of foreplay.
“Just another mystery novel.”
He started rubbing her leg. Even though it had been several weeks, she had no interest in sex that night but didn’t want to get into a squabble with him. Instead, she hopped out of bed. “I have an idea.” She quickly moved toward the kitchen. “Let’s have lunch now!”
He groaned. “Are you serious? It’s almost midnight.”
“That’s why they call it a midnight snack. Come on!”
She pulled out the packaged cold cuts, mayonnaise for him and mustard for her, lettuce, and a loaf of white bread.
He shuffled in a few minutes later. “You really are serious.”
She pulled out a can of beer and poured it in a glass and handed it to him. He pulled out a chair and sat at the dining-room table. “You’re in quite a mood tonight.”
“I took a hot bath. It helped me unwind. I should do it more often.” She brought the plates of sandwiches to the table, skipping the bologna on hers. “So, how was Ringo’s tonight?”
“The usual. I won ten bucks shooting pool. That Larry Norton thinks he’s Minnesota Fats, and I kick his butt every time.”
“Maybe you should let him win once in a while. Then he’ll have more confidence and raise the ante,” she said with a devilish grin.
“Boy, you really are in some kind of mood. I like it.” He chomped down on his sandwich, squirting mayo out of the sides and all over his hands. His demeanor suddenly became dark. “Damn. Can you please go easy on this stuff?”
“Sorry, hon. Here, let me take care of that.” Tori got up and grabbed a paper towel, reached in the fridge, and pulled out another beer. He had downed half of the first one before his first bite. She was determined to help him pass out. She wasn’t in the mood for anything except peace and quiet. She topped off his glass and handed him the paper towel. His attitude shifted back to being less surly.
“Got enough for tomorrow?” He spoke with a mouthful of food. She tried not to look at him gnashing his teeth on the artery-clogging combination.
“Yes. I can make you two sandwiches if you’d like.” She was still being perky. Not for his sake, but for her own sanity. “And I’ll even throw in a few pickles. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good to me.” He wiped his mouth, crumpled the napkin, and tossed it onto the plate. He pushed back his chair and guzzled the rest of the beer, draining what was left in the can. “I’m bushed.”
Mission accomplished, Tori thought to herself. “Go on to bed. I’m going to clean up in here.”
Without a word, he stood and shuffled toward the bedroom. If she had played it right, he would be snoring in less than ten minutes.
Tori slowly wiped off the dishes, removing the crumbs one at a time. After rinsing the plates and glasses, she looked around the kitchen for something else to occupy herself. When she heard the first snore emanating from down the hall, she knew it was safe to go to bed—except for the peace and quiet part.
Chapter Seven
Buncombe County
Later that evening
Luna could not settle down. Wiley’s eyes kept following her walking back and forth. He sighed several times. “What?” Luna squatted and looked at him. He nudged her arm. “What?” He let out another sound, but this time it was almost a groan. She sat down next to him.
“Yeah, I know, pal. Something’s gotta give with me and the marshal. But I don’t know what to do.” His ears perked up. “Sure, he’s kissed me several times, but as soon as I feel the heat and the sexual tension, I freeze up.”
Wiley got up and went for one of his tennis balls and brought it over to her. “You want to play while we’re having this important discussion?” She talked as if he were a person. To her way of thinking, they were on the same wavelength but spoke different languages. He let out a soft yelp. Then it hit her. “Play.” She needed to be more playful with Gaines. Sure, she flirted, but obviously not enough. Not enough for him to make the big move. Even a small move. They had been in each other’s “personal space” many times, feeling each other’s breath on their neck. Just thinking about it made her giddy. But tonight—the brush of his lips on her fingers—that was much more intimate than any of the kisses they had exchanged in the past. Too bad he had to get over to Cullen’s. But maybe it was better this way. She vowed she was not going to let him leave the county again without a big make-out session with her. “What do you think about that? Big make-out session next time?” Wiley gave an affirmative woof.
Now that she had made that decision, she was confident she could finally go to bed and fall asleep. Maybe even do a little soul traveling in her dreams. Some people called it astral projection. An out-of-body experience. This area of metaphysics fascinated Luna—she often felt as if she were hovering over someone when she would do a reading. It was a sense of floating.
She once had a dream about Cullen when he was on a camping trip. She was “viewing” it as if she were in one of the trees when she saw Cullen’s sleeve get singed on the campfire. It startled her to the point where she shot up in bed. She checked the clock. It was only a quarter after eleven. Maybe he was still awake. She had to call to see if he was all right. She hoped there was cell service where he was doing his rugged man thing.
An alarmed voice answered. “Luna? Is everything all right?” Cullen knew Luna wouldn’t track him down unless it was an emergency.
“Cul, are you all right?” Luna asked in return.
“Yeah. Fine. What’s going on?” he asked in a very heightened manner.
“I had a dream. You singed your sleeve on the fire. Are you OK?”
Cullen froze for a moment, then he looked at his sleeve. “Yes but, but, how? . . . how . . . did you know?”
“I told you, I had a dream.” Luna gave a sigh of relief.
“I don’t know what you’re taking before you go to bed, but either figure out a way to make millions or stop doing it. You’re freaking me out.”
“You should be used to it by now.” She snickered.
“Yeah, but it generally doesn’t involve me.”
“OK. What-ev. You be careful. I need to get a good night’s sleep. Sweet dreams.” Luna clicked off the phone.
Luna smiled, thinking about that incident. Maybe she would focus her thoughts on Gaines while drifting off to sleep. During one of her classes at the New School for Social Research, a discussion had come up about soul traveling. The professor explained they should think of it like Bluetooth or WiFi. You can’t see it, but you know it’s there, and you’re sharing the same frequency. It sure sounded like an episode of Star Trek, but they used to think the world was flat at one time, too.
