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Chapter 2; Part 3.
Natalie's mind drifted to
three days ago when she'd come home early. Walking in on
Kenny with another girl in thier bed had destroyed an already
eroding realtionship. She'd never felt such shock.
She'd stood frozen in the doorway until the pair finally
noticed her.
"Natalie!" Kenny had exclaimed, his blue eyes flying
wide beneath his tousled hair. "This isn't--"
"What it seems?" She asked, amazed by her calm voice
when her entire body seemed to quivering. "What
is it?"
"Natalie, shut the door. Go downstairs and--"
"And let you continue?" She'd glared at the
flushed young redhead wearing diamond stud earrings and nothing
else. "I've seen you at the clinic. You have that
white poddle Snickers. What a ridiculous name! He has a
horrible dispostion." Natalie couldn't stop babbling
as the reality of the situation fought for acceptance in her
mind. "No wonder he's always irritable. You drag him
in contantly and there's nothing wroing with him. Now I
know the reason for you frequent visits."
"Natalie, please dont turn this into some ridiculous
farce," Kenny said in a controlled voice as the women
fumbled for the sheet to cover herself. "We'll talk
later."
"I think not," Natalie replied coldly. "I dont
think we'll ever talk again."
With that she had descended down the stairs of the townhouse,
crossed the small foyer, and walked outside. As soon as she
closed the door behind her and heard the lock click, she
rememberd her purse. Her purse on the hall table holding her
wallet and keys. The keys to Kenny's condo as well
as her car keys. She was not only stranded with no money and
transportation, she was also denied access to the place
she'd called home fot the past eight months.
Oh, dear God, she'd thought in despair. Could this get any
worse? Humiliated, she had rung the doorbell repeatedly until a
blazing-eyed Kenny swung open the door wearing an old pair of
jeans. "Why are you doing this?" He demanded.
"My purse." Natalie wanted to cry. Her throat was
tight and the words grated. She blinked frantically. "Just
give me my purse with my keys so I can leave. I'll be back
this evening to pack."
"Nat--!"
"My purse!"
He'd turned away from the door as tears spilled from her
eyes. He retrieved the purse, handed it to her, and watched her
stalk to her car.
She'd gone to a good restaurant not crowded at such an
early house, and cried in the restroom for a good twenty
minutes. Then she'd applied a lot of powder around her red
nose and swollen eyes and sat in the darkened bar for the next
three house. She felt like getting drunk, but the objective
part of her knew oblivion wasn't the answer. Instead
she'd slowly sipped two small glasses of Chablis and wished
she had a friend to talk to. For the first time she realized
she had no really good friends in Columbus. Kenny had
monopolized her time. No, she'd let him monopolize her
time. She hadn't made close friends here because they might
interfere with her time with Kenny. Her friends were back home
in Port Ariel. Her very best friend from childhood, Lily
Peyton, was there. Suddenly the place Natalie grudgingly
visited only twice a year was where she wanted to be more than
anywhere in the world.
Dont C
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Chapter 2; Part 2.
"Coming!" Natalie
rushed from her bedroom into the roomy kitchen filled with
morning light. Sunshine bounced off the copper bottoms of
cookware hanging above an island range, and plants cascaded
from pots sitting around the many windows. Exercising his
amateur interest in architecture, Andrew St. John had designed
the house for his bride Kira and had it constructed on a
beautiful piece of land running down to Lake Erie. Natalie had
always loved it. She thought it reflected her father's
personality--big, strong, open. The place was built of solid
stone to stand up to the heavy northern winds, and glass
expanses showed off the spectacular lake view. When she'd
first left home and begun living in apartments, she'd left
as if she couldn't get her breath.
"Sorry, Dad." she said taking her seat and picking up
a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. "Im not used to
being served breakfast."
"Thte boyfriend of yours not willing to cook a simple meal
now and then?" Andrew asked, scooping up scrambled
eggs.
Natalie set down her glass, groaning silently. Her father never
liked Kenny Davis with his golden blonde hair, movie star
features, and easy charm. "He's too slick."
Andrew declared after one brief encounter. "I don't
trust him." She'd dismissed her father's
assessment. What was it based on? she asked herself then.
Nothing but the fact the Kenny was handsome. Now it appeared
that Andrew was had been right--Kenny wasn't trustworthy.
She wasn't ready to capitulate to Andrew's judgement,
however. As angry as she as with Kenny, Natalie still felt
compelled to defend him. "Kenny is very busy, Dad. He is a
brillant veterinarian," she said as Andrew set a plate
heaped with food in front of her.
"Yes, a vet, not an M.D."
"Dad, I'm a vet."
"Who should have been an M.D."
Natalie sighed. This was an old argument. Old and impossible
for her to win. Years ago Andrew had decided his daughter would
become a surgeon like him. She'd balked. She had wanted to
be a veterinarian since she was twleve, and she'd done
exactly as she please. Andrew had not been happy about her
career choice.
"Dad, I love animals and I love being a vet," she
said patiently. "And as for Kenny, he didn't cook
breakfast for me and I didn't cook breakfast for him.
Anicare is the biggest animal clinic in Columbus. We were both
on the run." She was determined not to belitte Kenny in
front of her father even if her was the reason she's
dragged her hurt and embarrassed self back to Port
Ariel.
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Chapter 2; Part 1.
Sunday Morning
Natalie slowly opened her eyes. Morning sun filtered dimly
through the delicate willow-patterned curtains. A beautiful
green coverlat lay over her drowsy bed. She drew a deep, lazy
breath, then shot up in bed, her gaze frantically searching for
the clock. Nine! She was due at Anicare an hour ago. She was on
the Sunday morning shift. What had happened to the alarm?
Reality rushed back. She closed her eyes in relief and leaned
back against the pillows. She wasn't at Anicare because she
was officially on vacation--on vacation from her job, on
vacation from Kenny Davis. She was back in Port Ariel in her
old room and unless her nose deceived her, she smelled bacon
and eggs frying.
Natalie stretched, yawned, considered going back to sleep for a
few minuters, then thought of the breakfast being prepared for
her. Under normal circumstances breakfast consisted of a
bagel of an English muffin eaten on the run.
She was swinging her legs out of her bed when her father
yelled, "Natalie, breakfast! Hurry before I eat it
all!"
She smiled wryly. He'd been saying the same thing since her
mother left twenty years ago when Natalie was six. He'd
always seemed to think cooking breakfast for her could make up
for any emotional trauma--a runaway mother, a faithless
lover.
"Be right there, Dad," She called, looking around the
room for her robe. It lay on the white bedroom chair, a
beautiful splash of pale green-and-pink silk. She wished
desperately she had brought another robe. She'd grabbed
this one because if fit neatly into the suitcase, but just
looking at it caused her pain. She'd been so touched when
she'd opened the package last Christmas morning and found
the exquisite kimono-stayle robe she'd admired in a store a
month before. She didn't think Kenny had been paying
attention.
Tears pressed behind her eyes. "Stop it." She told
herself firmly. "You're not going to sit around
weeping and wailing all day."
She shrugged hurriedly into the robe and brushed back her long,
black hair into a ponytail that hung halfway to her waist. A
close inspection in the mirror showed that her large dark brown
eyes--the eyes with the slight almond sland she'd inherited
from her Eurasian mother--showed tiny red lines. She reached
for the Visine. Just four margaritas last night at Panache with
Lily Peton and now she had bloodshot eyes. Four was over her
limit. After her second, though, it had seemed so good to see
Lily again she didn't want the evening to end. After the
third, she'd reached the maudlin stage and began describing
in what she now realized was excruciating detail the demise
relationship with Kenny Davis and how she'd come back to
Port Ariel "just for a couple of weeks" to get her
bearings. Natalie shook her head. What a thrilling night for
Lily, but she'd understand.
"Everything is going to be ice-cold if you don't get
out here," Natalie's father
threatened.
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Chapter 1; Part 4.
For just a moment Tamara had
the impulse to forge ahead and take a look at the decrepit
house. Then she glanced up. Dark clouds billowed. The summer
storm was blowing in faster than she'd expected. She had no
time for exploring now. She'd left several of her windows
up and her new car in the driveway under a tree instead of in
the garage.
Tamara turned and took several hurried steps down Hyacinth
Lane. Tree limbs swayed and creaked. A silvery shaft of
lighting ripped the gray sky. Tamara's ponytail blew wildly
in the wind and a piece of dirt flew right into her eye. She
stopped, rubbing at it gently. Damn. It had lodged under a
contact lens.
A tear ran down her cheek. Lord, it hurt. She shut her and took
a few more hurried steps. A scrabbling sound pulled her up
short. She jerked her head to the right. What on earth was
that? It sounded as if it were rushing at
her.
"Happy Face?" She called. "Happy, is that
you?"
The rushing sound stopped. Now there was silence, but a
sinister silence. Something was watching her. She
could feel the gaze running up and down her body. Her hands
turned icy. She took a deep breath. Dont be silly, Tamars, she
told herself sternly. What would be watching you? A chipmunk? A
squirrel. Still, a dark wing of fear fluttered inside her.
"Happy Face?" she called again, hopefully,
uncertainly.
But it wasnt the dog. Suddenly footsteps pounded through the
underbrush, snapping vines, then smacking against the bare
dirt. Tamara whirled blindly, not sure which direction to run.
It didnt matter. In a flash an arm shot out from a slick, dark
mass. Some kind of plastic coat. Tamara yelped in fear as the
arm clenched around her neck and yanked backward. She dropped
the violets she'd picked earlier. Her heels dragged the
ground. She clawed uselessly at the sinewy arm locked directly
under her chin. Her neck felt as if it were going to snap. Her
eyes bulged in fear and shock as she gasped for air.
"Wha--?"
A long steel razor with a bone handle flicked open. In one
cold, frozen moment Tamara saw the blade glint in a flash of
lighting before it slashed viciously across her throat and
around her neck, cutting the vocal cords, severing the carotid
artery. Blood spurted straight out, then cascaded down,
drenching the sleeve of her white sweater.
"Their throat is an open tomb," a voice whispered
caressingly in her ear as Tamara's slender body jerked
grotesquely in its death throes.
The arm released Tamara. She fell in a heap, still twitching,
her eyes wide, her blood soaking the dirt. The figure kneeled
beside her and tucked a note into the fold of her sweater. Then
it stood, bowed in a grotesque imitation of servitude, and
wafted silently back into the dark, swaying forest.
Rain had begun to fall when the dog returned five minutes
later. It loped toward Tamara, then abruptly stopped, dropping
the stick. It whimpered unhappily. Finally it warily approached
the body of the women who had greeted it so joyously earlier.
When it smelled blood, the hair on its back stood up and it
crouched, half-crawling to Tamara. It stared at her with warm
amber eyes, the smiling gone from its face. Gently, almost
reverently, it lay down and stretched its sleek neck across the
gasping slash in hers, protecting her from further harm. As
rain poured, the dog howled mournfully into the lonley
night.
I told you it would get better(:
Comments?
Dont C
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Chapter 1; Part
3.
Tamara looked at her watched again. 8:45. She
should return home. She could be bathed and ready for bed by
the time Warren called. She smiled. When she was ready for bed,
Lily would be ready for a night at trendy Panache. Their old
friend Natalie St. John was back in town and Lily wanted to
show her a good time. She'd invited Tamara along, but
Tamara declined, telling her she would be waiting for
Warren's call. "You're hopeless," Lily
teasted. "I might get married some day but I'll never
be as settled as you. Hovering around the phone at for a
husband?" Apprarently Lily thought hovering only
jusitfied in cases of handsome, unpredicable boyfriends.
The dog looked up at her expectantly. She's forgotten their
game. "Okay, Happy Face." Tamara bent and picked up a
stick. The dog shifted from paw to paw in anticipation. Tamara
threw the stick far into the trees. The dog shot after it.
Usually it returned in less than a minute with the stick, which
it dropped at her feet. This Tamara heard it barking. The
barking grew fainter. Obviously it had spotted a rabbit and was
giving it a chase. At least she hoped it was a rabbit. She
didn't want to be greeted by a dog reeking of skunk.
She stood on the road for a few minutes. Up ahead reared the
remains of the Saunders House built back in the early
nineteenth century when Port Ariel was called Winthrop. When
the senior Saunderses died, their beautiful daughter Ariel
became the loved of Captain Zebediah Winthrop, whose father
founded the town. Ariel was labeled a "scarlet women"
after she gave birth to Zebediah's son Thaddeus out of
wedlock. In his youth Zabediah had been forced to marry a
homely crab of a women named Mercy. While Zebediah sailed Lake
Erie, Mercy and her pious friends delighted in wreaking pretty
vengeances on Ariel and the baby, terrorizing the young mother.
Then, when Thaddeus was barely one year old, Captain
Winthrop's ships, the Mercy,
caught fire and foundered on the shore near Ariel's house.
Ariel had spotted the wreck from her widow's walk and
rushed to the rescue, single-handedly saving two injured
sailors and her beloved Zeb from drowning.
Mercy died shortly afterward, mostly from bitterness and
jealously and pure meanness, people claimed. She was barely in
the ground when Zebediah married Ariel. Most citizens had
forgiven her in light of her bravery and did not object when
Zebediah changed the name of the town in her honor. Together
they had two more children. Zeb died long before Ariel and she
had a large monument built to him in the town square. Although
she lived to be eighty, she never remarried.
As children Tamara and Lily were entranced by the story of
Ariel who had lived alone on the windy shore of Lake Erie,
tormented yet strong and loving. They thought she was
beautiful, wonderful, courageous, and all that a women should
be. They used to dress up and play for hours in the Saunders
house, taking turns at pretending to be Ariel. Sometimes
Natalie St. John played with them. Tamara had seen pictures of
Ariel and thought that with her long black hair and dark eyes,
Natalie made the best Ariel, but she never told Lily. Natalie
was the only one of their friends with whom they shared the
secret of the game. Natalie could always be trusted with a
secret.
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Chapter 1; Part
2.
Humming beneath her breath,
Tamara crossed the lawn and walked down Hyacinth Lane, a
wide dirt road running north through a wooded area. She
delighted in the towering oaks, locust trees, and scattered
dogwoods and crab apples. When the dogwoods and crab apples
were in bloom, this place seemed like a fairy world.
She took a rubber band out of her sweater pockets and pulled
back her long blonde hair in a ponytail. Delicate silver
filigree earrings set with amethyst stones swayed in the
breeze, tickling her neck. She tilted back her head, closed her
eyes, and drew a deep breath. Clean, clear air tinged with the
scent of approaching rain and the water of Lake Erie filled her
delicate nostrils. When she was young, she and Lily had spent
countless hours on the lake in their parents' cabin cruiser
and their sleek twenty-foot inboard motorboat. The girls were
excellent water-skiers. Warren went out with the family
sometimes on the cabin cruiser, but he always stayed on board.
He didn't even fish.
Something rustled in the underbrush. Naturally timid, Tamara
grew motionless, her gaze scanning the side of the road. She
knew the sound probably came from a small animal. Most of them
were perfectly harmless except for poisonous snakes, although
there weren't many of those around. Besides, a snake
wouldn't make much noise and it certainly wouldn't
attack unless threatened.
Her mind knew this. Her body didnt. She felt cold, imagining a
sleek head rising up to bury venom-filled fangs in the skin of
her ankle.
The rustling grew louder. Tamara stiffened. She was ready to
turn and dash for when a large dog burst from the greenery on
her left. It bounded to her, panting.
"Well, hello there!" Tamara exclaimed, laughing in
relief. This was the fourth evening in a row she'd seen the
dog on her walk. It had wiry black-and-tan hair, mostly black,
and seemed to wear a perpetual smile. She called it "Happy
Face." Showing no fear to humans, the dog approached her
on slender tan legs with white paws, its curled tail wagging.
Tamara bent to pet it. She had no idea what breed it was, but
she thought it would be beautiful if it were bathed. Instead
its hair was matted and slightly oily. It wore no collar, and a
fresh scratch ran down the right side of its face.
Poor thing, Tamara thought. She'd love to have a dog, but
Warren had firmly pronounced they could not take it in. He
didnt like animals. The dog was so endearing, but it was
getting thinner. She decided to buy dog food tomorrow. At least
she could keep the dog well fed even if she couldn't give
it a home.
Happy Face walked beside her for a while, glancing up as if for
approval. Wild violets grew along the edges of Hyacinth Lane.
Tamara stooped and picked a few while the dog waited patiently.
A slate-gray catbird emitted its lonelt mewing call to the
evening. A few ambitious fireflies were already hard at
work, blinking gaudily against the darkening sky.
Like I said in the first part, the whole first chapter is sorta
slow, and even I know
that.
Dont C
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Chapter 1; Part
1.
Saturday Night
Tamara dried the last crystal wineglass, held
it up to the fading summer light shining through the kitchen
window, and nodded. Spotless. She hated spots on glasses,
particularly crystal. Tomorrow night, when Warren came home
from his conference in Cleveland, they'd share a bottle of
Chateau Latour Blanche on their sixth anniversary. Tamara was
not a wine connoisseur, but he'd assured her the Latour
Blanche was expensive and should be properly appreciated. When
she'd fussed about spending a lot of money on a bottle of
wine, he said it was a gift from a patient. Tamara knew better
than to ask which one. Warren was a psychologist and never
discussed his patients.
Tamara looked around the pristine kitchen. The whole house was
spotless. With no children and no job, she had more than enough
time to keep the house perfect.
Tonight, however, she had nothing left to clean. She'd even
reorganized the kitchen cabinets and put down fresh shelf
paper. She could work on her latest quilt, the lovely
hummingbird design she created, but she wasn't in the mood.
She could drop by the suicide hotline Warren had forced her to
organize, but tonight she didn't want to hear any sad
stories. She didn't enjoy Saturday night television and she
felt too restless to read. Usually she took an evening walk,
but a storm was predicted.
Tamara looked out the window and sighed. Daylight Saving Time
extended light until nine o'clock. So far it was a lovelt
evening, a bit cloudier than usual, but still nice. Surely the
storm wouldn't hit for over an hour. That left plenty of
time for a walk.
She grabbed an old white sweater off the coat tree beside the
back door. It was mid-June, but Port Ariel, Ohio, sat on the
edge of Lake Erie, which sent cool breezes off its water all
year. The comfortable temperature was what draw so many
tourists to the beach area every summer. Warren hated tourists,
but Tamara spent most of her time at home and rarely had
contact with them. Besides, they were good for local business
and therefore good for her twin sister Lily, who owned a
successful antique store downtown. Tamara was making the
hummingbird quilt for Lily's shop. "People like old
furniture but not old bedding. Only bedding that looks
old," Lily always said. "I could sell three times the
number of these goregous quilts you make!" Tamara was
pleased by their popularity, but she never increased her
production. Haste made for sloppy work.
As she automatically locked the back foor and descended the
porch steps, Tamara glanced at her watch. Eight-thirty. Warren
always called promptly at when he was out of town. She frowned.
She must not be late for the call. Things were rocky between
them. Warren had been irritable, quiet, and aloof for months.
Tamara felt she disspointed that she hadn't been able to
give him a child, although he never mentioned it. Lily
contended that Warren didn't want a child--not everyone
did. Tamara told her sister she was being ridiculous.
To be twins, they were so different, hardly like sisters at all
except for their looks and their love for each other. Lily
wasn't even religious in spite of their strict Catholic
backgrounds. Ignoring Lily's good-natured skepticsims,
Tamara had begun attending mass everyday, praying for the child
that would draw Warren back to her. Now she knew her prayers
had worked. Her periods were always irregular, but this time
she was over a month late. She'd taken a home pregnancy
test this morning and she had wonderful news for Warren, which
she'd save until tomorrow evening when her returned.
I know this is starting off slow, but the information in this
part is important. This is a mysterey/suspense story and I
promise it will get better. Comments do
help(: