Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

And after that walk, he couldn’t feel his goddamn feet. He’d have to see the doc again in the morning.

Jolene might go twenty years with the four hundred thousand, which the realtor said he could have gotten on the Back Acre, had he been able to do what he wanted with his own damn property.

Too late now, he’d never get that ordinance changed. He’d done everything he could for the family, right up to things he couldn’t ever tell Jolene about. All he could do now was try to live a little while longer.

He heard the phone ring at the bedstand. Jolene beat him to it. “Oh, hi, Sam,” she said. “Everything all right?”

She handed it to him and he listened. Then he reached down for his slippers. “What is it?” she said.

“Sam thought he saw a prowler. I’m gonna meet him outside.”

She sat straight up in bed, her nightie slipping down her shoulder, pretty as a postcard. “I’ll go too.”

“You stay put. I mean it. It’s probably nothing. I’ll be right back.”

Tory was vomiting in the bathroom again. Darryl heard her wash her mouth out. She crawled back into bed, pulling the covers off him.

One thing after another.

“You’ll forget all about this in a couple of months,” he said. “Remember, you had all that trouble the first trimester with Mikey.”

Tory just rolled over to her side of the bed and gave him her back. She was mad at him for trying to talk to Elizabeth at the party, and he could make no explanation. He didn’t know what had possessed him. He’d only had a couple of Coronas.

Lately, he’d done several things he’d never dreamed he’d do. He’d been lucky, and here he was now, ready to push his luck again.

Tory had no idea that he’d gone to see Elizabeth. Fine, let her sleep, he just wanted to go to sleep too. Darryl rolled over in the opposite direction.

A song was running through his head, a song George sang, a cowboy ballad, and Darryl kept thinking about some of the words:

I’ve got a good life, and a good wife,

Too much to throw away…

They had an appointment with Pastor Sobczek next Thursday, and Darryl was afraid all his fantasizing was going to have to end at that point, because God would be involved, and God would come down, when it came to Tory and his soon-to-be-five kids and his commitment to love and honor forever, on the side of his marriage. That his love for Tory had turned to a mild, fond kind of feeling didn’t matter to God. That he wanted Elizabeth so bad he was breathing harder just thinking about it now didn’t matter.

God’s God. He doesn’t indulge these crazy emotions.

Elizabeth was beautiful and tragic. Debbie had whispered the whole story to Tory and Tory had told him, all about the car crash and the husband and daughter who died.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually gone to Elizabeth’s house. He’d talked with her, had the chance to drink her in. That’s what he had done, drunk her into his soul and made her part of him.

But he hadn’t expressed himself right. Words didn’t come easy to him. She’d thrown him out.

I could make her smile, he thought. I’d go to France with her if she wanted. She’d probably do something like that, go live in Paris. She had money and freedom. Wouldn’t life be fabulous with Elizabeth in Paris, free and rich?

A man had a right to do one thing before God intervened. He had a right to make his feelings fully known to the woman he loved, privately and without humiliating his wife. If he didn’t have that, well, he’d explode. And he’d hate his wife, because he’d blame her for not letting him at least say it once to the woman.

All my life I’ve done the things that were expected of me

And if I wasn’t happy, at least I wasn’t hurtin’ anybody

But I want her, I need her, she stole my soul away

And whatever choice I make, I’ll be sorry…

He slaved for Tory and the kids. Tory must know that. Sometimes he hated what he had to do, meeting the demands of his family and neighbors, working too hard and too much, day in and day out, the parties, the yard work, the troubles, but he did what he had to do, didn’t he? He took care of business just like he was supposed to, so if he wanted more out of life… well, didn’t he deserve it?

Bringing the blankets up to his nose, Darryl put his hands together under the covers. Silently, he said, Lord, am I allowed to speak to her one more time? Am I allowed this one thing? Should I?

The Lord may have answered him. But Darryl didn’t really want to hear what He said. Besides, the phone was ringing in the living room. Tory had finally gotten to sleep.

Confused, guilty, and scared all at once, Darryl rolled out of bed to find out who needed him now.

Out behind the Cowan house on this late night, Debbie thought she could see two silhouettes making their way behind the garage.

Sam wouldn’t! What if David came home! Of course not! She looked harder out the kitchen window, across Ben’s grassy yard, but now saw only shadows. Sam was at the office working late just like he had said. Sam would never do it to her again. He really did love her.

He tried so hard to take care of them, always making plans that came to nothing, through no fault of his own. He didn’t have the magic touch with money, which was too bad, but he was a good man. She knew he was hurting, with this awful development going up across the way and his job always at risk.

He was a person who needed to exercise power, and he had few enough opportunities. All the railing and noise he made about Green River, going to meetings, trying to get the neighbors up in arms, and he was like a parking ticket in a shredder. They shredded him and barely knew they had done it. No wonder he got so wild now and then… he had to prove to himself he was a man. She never doubted it, and she was sorry he did, that was for sure.

She would ask him again tomorrow if they could adopt a child from China. He didn’t like babies so much, so maybe a little one a couple of years old. House-trained, he would call it.

Now that the kids were grown the house was so empty. The dogs-they were just dogs, they weren’t like a human child who learns to talk to you and laughs and learns to be like you and who you can do something for…

The house was so quiet she would have enjoyed hearing mice in the walls. Debbie unloaded the dishwasher, then got her fuzzy old robe on, and flipped on the TV to see if Letterman had a funny monologue going, or something. The digital display told her it was past midnight.

When the ads came on, Debbie started worrying the way she did. This time she was worrying about the disabled people about to be evicted at Robles Vista. She could almost hear the noise of the bulldozer engines idling behind the trees, ready to tear up the ground and ruin their lives. We’re at war, she thought, but she couldn’t quite figure out who the enemy was. She only knew what everybody knew-that the fires in the Village were battles in the war.

At least she could bring those people in their wheelchairs some human comfort. She would buy doughnuts in the morning. She’d give a sackful to the cook at Robles Vista so that people could have them for brunch in the common room there.

Finally hearing Sam’s key in the door, she felt greatly relieved. Fires and Ruthie and Danny… all so sad… and frightening… so hard to understand. I love him, she thought with gratitude, getting up, and he loves me. We are so lucky and blessed…

“I WAS CONCERNED THAT THERE MIGHT be some danger leaving the tent unattended,” Paul said. Crockett had told him to meet him at the D.A.’s office at the Salinas courthouse this morning. Apparently his office was a movable feast. He hadn’t been available the morning before and Paul had spent the day looking into other matters.