Second Thoughts and Last Chances
By
Latikia
Edited by
The Old Fart
Copyright © 2007,
2008
Chapter 4
How many people through the long history of the world have looked back on their lives and wondered, ‘When did it all go wrong?’ Do you suppose Napoleon ever asked himself that question?
The fact is that even if you knew precisely when it happened, what difference would it make? What could you possibly do with that priceless bit of information?
I can do some pretty amazing things, but time travel isn’t among them. Unfortunately, one of the things I do have is an exceptional memory. Using the wondrous technology of twenty-twenty hindsight in combination with that keen memory I’m more than able to look back and point out the year, the month of that year, which week of that month, which day of that week and the exact hour of that specific day when it all started going left just as I was turning right.
That’s when my carefully arranged life began turning to shit. And even though I knew it was happening, I didn’t become aware of what was happening until three and a half years later. So a fat lot of good knowing did any of us.
How pathetic is that?
The first hint that things weren’t going to remain the way I
wanted arrived as I was leaving work for the day.
I’d finished haunting the various departments on my to-do list and was on my way home, going thru the lobby, past the metal detectors and security personnel. I started getting a serious itch at the back of my mind, as if there were something I was supposed to be paying attention to, but couldn’t quite see.
Standing there in line, waiting for my turn to be scanned and have my briefcase searched, I took the opportunity to look around. The itch grew increasingly irritating and I began to become seriously annoyed. It was like having the eyes of the entire world focused on me but not seeing a single soul anywhere around. Little stabbing prickles darted all over the surface of my hands and face. Minute sensations of envy, distrust, loathing, fear, jealousy, desire, disgust, hatred along with a dozen others nipped and tormented me.
I started feeling claustrophobic and more than a little paranoid.
I twisted around, looking in every conceivable direction; over the heads of the lines of people in front, behind, and to either side of me. My eyes failed to spot anything out of the ordinary, but my feelings were going berserk and I started snarling like a trapped animal.
People began moving away from me, eyes wide with concern, clutching their bags and briefcases tightly, as if preparing to run for cover.
There was a brief instant when I almost thought I knew what was going on, and then…it just stopped.
No more prickles, no claustrophobia or paranoia, no more anger. It all just stopped and everything went back to normal.
I should have known better.
Dr. Wills retired quietly, and without fanfare, from the CIA in June of 1998, a month after I was awarded my PhD, and I became officially what I had been in fact since 1996 --- Deputy Director of Internal Security.
“Don’t let this job become the end-all and be-all of your life.” he told me as we walked side by side down the hallway towards the elevator for the last time. “It’s necessary and important, don’t get me wrong, but it should never be the most important thing.”
“So says the man who gave up his personal life for this job.” I retorted good-naturedly.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I should know better than to give you platitudes. It’s like playing straight-man to a comic. But seriously, I want you to think about what I’m saying. When I took this job, way back when, I didn’t have any other life to speak of. For me there was no sacrifice. Can you say the same?”
Dr. Wills was a good, honorable, patriotic man who believed very strongly in public service and independent oversight for the most powerful instruments of our government. He taught me to give a damn about what my government was doing, and how they were doing it, and he taught me that I not only had a responsibility to be part of that government, but that I should want to be a part.
Izzy was appointed Dean of Students and Chief Administrator of Guilliford Academy in July of 1997. She’d been teaching at the school for more than four years and we were all very happy and proud when she was tapped to replace the retiring Dean. Her new responsibilities took a toll on the family though, as she began working longer hours and had to sacrifice more and more of her weekends and free time to the job.
By then, my wives and I had become more and more deeply involved in our personal lives, sometimes to the exclusion of everything else; me with my job at the CIA and finishing up my PhD, Izzy with teaching and then running the Academy, Peggy with her studies and the new veterinary practice she’d established, and Lilly with the children, running the household and taking care of the family finances.
We all did what we could to be supportive and covered for Izzy as best we could with the kids, but even as young as they were they began to notice and question her increasingly frequent absences. Lilly tried to explain and make the little ones understand, as did Peggy when she wasn’t occupied with her practice. The three girls were skeptical, to put it mildly, but they were willing to go along with what Lilly and Peggy told them, at first. AJ, on the other hand, was not.
Initially he withdrew, becoming very quiet and sullen. He would cast angry glances at Izzy when she was home and we were all gathered for meals or other family events like birthdays or holidays. He changed dramatically from a cheerful, outgoing, friendly little boy, into a silent, morose, bad tempered little thunder cloud, who went stomping and storming around the house, avoiding everyone but his sisters, who seemed to be the only ones capable of restraining his fits of temper.
In December of 1998, Izzy failed to show up for the children’s school Christmas Pageant, citing last minute budget meetings, and was called away on some other school emergency again on Christmas Eve. AJ hit the roof and the girls went with him. Nothing Lilly, Peggy or I tried cheered them up in the slightest. It was the most unpleasant Christmas in my memory, which is saying something. Worst of all, Izzy was completely oblivious to the negative effect she was having on the family.
And what was I doing while my family began to fall apart? Ever hear of Harold Roberts? Don’t feel bad if the name doesn’t ring a bell. Most people these days couldn’t tell you who he was. In 1998 even fewer people knew his name. Harold was one of the most infamous spies of the twentieth century, right up there with the Rosenberg’s, Kim Philby, and Arthur Flemming.
Harold Roberts worked in the FBI and had been selling secrets to Russia since the early 80’s. I had just gotten wind of something irregular going on during the first week of September and had been banging my head against bureaucratic walls for the best part of three months trying to get an investigation started. Not the easiest thing in the world to do, as the FBI director at that time and I were not on particularly good terms. So the last thing on my mind were family problems.
It all came to a head a few days after New Years 1999.
That morning I woke in time to shut off the alarm clock, before it could scare the hell out of me. Why Lilly thought we needed an alarm clock louder than an air raid siren I never did understand, and I was never been able to get her to tell me where she found the damn thing. I’d have liked to visit the factory that made them and burn it to the ground, which could be why she wouldn’t tell me.
I’d slid Peggy off my chest so that I could crawl out from under the blankets and reach the clock, and as she usually did, Peggy crawled over to cuddle up next to Izzy. Izzy grunted, pushed Peggy back towards Lilly, rolled over on her side facing away from the other two girls, tugging on her nightgown and whimpering ever-so-softly.
I noticed the unusual behavior, but in my hurry to head off the bells of doom I didn’t give it much thought. If I had been paying closer attention I might have realized much sooner how Izzy had been pulling away from us for several months, physically and emotionally. I might have seen how her behavior had changed; she’d become jittery, reserved and withdrawn, almost since the end of September.
Izzy had, along with Peggy, always been much more sexually aggressive than either Lilly or I. It was usually one, or both, of them who instigated our sexual escapades. Don’t get me wrong, when she got the itch, Lilly could be just as aggressive, but it wasn’t an all-the-time kind of thing with her the way it was with Izzy and Peggy. I had my moments as well, but I did my best to reign in my more aggressive and violent tendencies, primarily because they seemed, at least to me, to be inexorably linked.
After shutting off the alarm I shuffled into the bathroom, took a piss, showered, shaved and dried my hair with Lilly’s blow-dryer. Feeling much more awake, I went into the closet and dressed, pulled my hair back and secured it in place with the silver clasp Peggy had gotten me for my most recent birthday. I slipped into my shoes, and stepped out of the closet, facing the bed where my girls lay sleeping.
Peggy and Lilly had snuggled up together on Lilly’s side of the bed while Izzy lay at the far edge of her side, a good three feet between them.
I felt a sharp twinge at the back of my thoughts.
Linking with them I proceeded to add a spark to their rings; first Lilly, who shuddered and sighed and pulled Peggy closer to her; then Peggy, who moaned and growled deep in her throat as she buried her face between Lilly’s breasts; then Izzy…who snarled “No, don’t!” and flailed about, twisting the sheets around her and pulling a pillow over her head.
The twinge in my thoughts became a dull stab in my heart.
It suddenly occurred to me that the four of us hadn’t had sex together since September. Lilly, Peggy and I had fucked individually and occasionally as a trio, nowhere near as often as we did before the girls were born, and much less often since AJ arrived, but we still made time. But recently there always seemed to be a reason or excuse for Izzy not to be with me, or us. And she’d started wearing oversized tee-shirts or honest-to-god nightgowns sometime around the start of autumn, something she hadn’t done since we’d become lovers. And it had only just dawned on me.
I walked silently to Izzy’s side of the bed and knelt down next to where she lay with her head still buried beneath the pillow.
I had avoided linking with my girls over the years, especially in the years since the babies were born, other than to give them their sparks and occasionally when we had sex. I thought of it as akin to spying and had vowed, to myself, that I wouldn’t violate their personal privacy without a damn good reason.
I linked with Izzy and began broadcasting love.
Izzy shuddered and began to cry softly, as feelings of guilt, remorse, anticipation, lust, desire, panic and fear flooded down the link in my direction. The bright ring that held the sparks of love I’d given her over the years had become so reduced in size that I could barely recognize it, and it’s blazing golden glimmer was shrouded by a dull, greasy white crystalline patina.
The dull stabbing morphed as each emotion my sister was feeling turned into a rusty, jagged blade and the lot of them proceeded to shred my heart.
“Izzy, what have you done?” I whispered to myself and clamped down hard on my broadcasting, cutting it off before the powerful feelings that were forming in me could make their way out.
I stood up and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I peeked into my daughter’s room and saw them sleeping soundly; each one a beautiful miniature version of her mother. It was all I could do, as I watched Belle curled up on her side with a stray lock of dark hair curling down over one eye, not to break out in tears.
I opened the door of AJ’s room and walked in, taking a knee next to his bed and looking long and hard at his little face.
What was I going to do? Was there anything I could do after setting myself up for this sort of thing so many years before?
Confirm your
suspicions. You don’t know anything for
sure at this point, so don’t go off half cocked. Find out…and then decide what, if anything,
to do.
“It’s not like you to council ‘wait and see’. What’s the deal?” I asked my darker self.
The way you’re feeling
right now, if you don’t step back and count to ten, you’re going to do something
really stupid; something that could
expose us publicly, something that would, without a doubt, adversely affect the
children and that you’d regret for
the rest of your life.
“Alright then.” I agreed. I leaned down and lightly kissed my son’s cheek then stood up and left his room.
I went downstairs, put on my coat and gloves, picked up my
briefcase and left the house. I drove
the hour and a half from our home south of
Up in my office I took my list of contact numbers from the wall safe, sat down at the desk and began dialing.
“McMurphy.” the voice at the other end answered.
“Number three…this is Dr. Blacktower. Do you recognize my voice?”
“Yes sir, what can I do for you?” the third of my five FBI moles instantly replied.
“Two things; one that’s in the FBI’s best interests and one that is for me personally. First off, you have an upper level section chief by the name of Harold Roberts in the Washington offices of the Bureau. I have reason to believe that he’s taking money from Russian officials. I strongly suggest that you put a team on him. Follow him, tap his phones, read his mail, computers…whatever you can get your hands on. You might also want to check on his bank accounts.”
“Harold Roberts…I’ll get right on it. And the second thing?”
“As I said, the second is for me personally and I need it done very quietly and very quickly. I want a tail put on a woman named Isabeau Blacktower. She’s the Dean of Guilliford Academy, an upscale grammar school for the children of diplomats, politicians and Pentagon big brass located in the suburbs of Alexandria. She should be arriving there about eight this morning. I want to know who she meets with and, if and when she leaves the school grounds, I want to know where she goes and who she goes with. And I want to know immediately.”
There was a prolonged silence. “Understood sir.”
“You have my numbers?”
“I do sir.”
“Call me…no one else.”
“Understood. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you number three.” I hung up the phone and spent the rest of the morning trying to concentrate on my upcoming presentation to the Senate sub-committee at the end of the month.
A few minutes after noon my private line started ringing. My hand shook slightly as I reached for the receiver and lifted it up to my ear.
“Blacktower.”
“Three here sir. The woman and a man left the Academy grounds together in a red Mustang twenty minutes ago. Virginia vanity plates YPS AIC, registered to an Alex Chorney of Alexandria. He’s one of the faculty at Guilliford, teaches history and general science. They are currently in room 319 of the Hyatt.”
“Give me the address the plates are registered to and the address of the Hyatt. And a description of the man.”
Number three read off the addresses then described the man. I copied all the information down onto the pad in front of me.
“Thank you number three. Pull the tail and forget you ever heard their names.” I disconnected quickly and dialed Izzy’s office.
“Guilliford Academy, how may I help you?” a prim female voice at the other end of the line answered.
“Yes, my name is Dr. Davidson, I’d like to speak with Ms. Blacktower please.” I lowered the timber of my voice, making it sound more like my darker self.
“I’m sorry Doctor, the Dean is at an educational conference this afternoon and won’t be available until tomorrow. Can I take a message?”
The sound of blood rushing thru the veins in my head very nearly drowned out the last of the woman’s words. My heart was pounding so hard and so fast that it actually began to hurt, and I came very close to hyperventilating.
“No, thank you very much. I’ll call back tomorrow.” I very carefully put the receiver down in its cradle.
I sat behind my desk for several minutes, staring blindly at the wall before me, not one single thought in my head. Eventually I got up, put on my coat and headed for the elevator, telling Eric Watson, my office manager, to handle any calls and contact me only if it were a dire emergency.
I felt hollow inside; empty of all feelings, painfully devoid of any sensation whatsoever. No anger, no rage, no sorrow, no jealousy, no nothing at all. It was almost as if I had ceased to exist.
I rode the elevator down to the lobby, strode out past security into the parking lot and got into my car. I checked the address on the sheet of paper in my hand, put it down on the seat next to me, started the car, pulled out the lot, drove out onto the road and headed towards Alexandria.
I pulled into the Hyatt tossed my keys to the valet on duty and told him to put it where he could get it quickly and flashed him my credentials. I stalked towards the registration desk and asked to speak with the manager. A short, slender built man, graying hair and about fifty years old came to the desk.
“I’m Mr. James, the Manager, can I help you sir?”
I showed him my ID.
“Mr. James, a man and a woman checked in to this hotel around twelve thirty, room 319 probably registered under the name Alex Chorney. The man is in his late thirties, about six one, one hundred and ninety pounds, with black hair and brown eyes. The woman is tall, five ten, one hundred and thirty pounds, dark brown hair and blue eyes.”
The manager looked at me with stern eyes. “Is this an official inquiry sir?”
I locked eyes with the man and spoke very softly. “Are they still here, yes or no?”
I linked with the man and began to send him small trickles of fear and uncertainty. He tried to maintain his air of confidence, but quickly wilted. His fingers flashed over the computer keyboard.
“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Chorney checked in at twelve thirty five.”
“Have they stayed here any other times during the past year?”
His fingers flashed again and I waited, feeling the emptiness inside expand as the horribly endless seconds passed.
“Yes, they’ve stayed with us more than a dozen times this year, beginning in October.”
I made a conscious effort to keep breathing.
“Would you print out a list of their registrations, dates, times, room numbers and method of payment for me, Mr. James?”
“Certainly sir. It will only take a moment.”
He walked quickly to the far end of the long counter, waited a few moments which for me lasted a hellish lifetime, then picked up some papers and walked back just as quickly. I took the still warm paper printouts he handed across the counter top, thanked the man for his assistance and headed back outside to talk with the parking valet. I asked him about the red Mustang with the vanity plates, which he remembered right away. I handed him a hundred dollar bill and asked him to move my car near the Mustang, but opposite it. I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting behind the wheel and mindlessly watching the red Mustang.
It was almost six when I finally spotted her emerging from the stairwell. She was walking arm in arm with a dark haired man in a knee length black overcoat. There was something vaguely familiar about his features, especially around the eyes. I’d seen this man before, somewhere, but I couldn’t think where. He opened the passenger side door and held it while Izzy got in, which took several seconds as she appeared to be having problems with her balance, and then closed it after her. He went around to the other side and climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled out. I slowly counted to fifteen, started my own engine, and pulled out after them.
Staying well behind the red sports car, I followed them back to Guilliford, where, after kissing passionately in the parking lot for several minutes, Izzy climbed out and got into her own car. As the red Mustang pulled away I was suddenly overwhelmed with a desperate desire to link with the man behind the wheel and kill him right there and then.
I fought the urge and seconds later it was too late; the red car was gone and my opportunity had passed, along with my brief but intense surge of emotion.
I followed Izzy’s car all the way home, dropping farther and farther behind as the miles went by until I could barely see the car. She’d parked in her usual place on the drive and had been inside for a few minutes by the time I pulled up next to her car and turned off my lights and ignition.
Opening the car door I pulled myself out slowly using the overhead hand grip and then stood there for a few minutes looking around at our home and the property surrounding it.
The empty, hollow space that had been growing in me all day long suddenly filled with a rush, like a dam bursting and the wall of painful emotions behind that collapsing dam came pouring in with terrible power and indescribable agony to fill the hollow cavern that I had become. I did everything I could think of to stop the flood, from slamming my hand over and over on the car’s roof to biting my tongue till blood flowed, but nothing helped.
I’d been shot, stabbed, hit by a car and absorbed more death and pain than anyone in the history of the world. None of those highly unpleasant events came close to preparing me for that moment.
Every cell in my body screamed at me; accusing, blaming, condemning and cursing me for being such a stupid fucking fool. What was worse, I knew deep down inside that I deserved the pain, along with the sense of betrayal and abandonment that I suddenly felt. The sickly sensations of isolation, jealousy and despair clung to every atom of every molecule that made up me. Confusion hit in a secondary wave of powerful feelings, along with a shockingly urgent need to hurt someone…anyone…anyone at all. Confusion mixed with self loathing…what had I done to deserve this? Yeah, on one level I couldn’t deny that I’d brought it on my own head, but at the same time I couldn’t figure out how.
I swallowed hard, nearly choking on my tongue, and removed my coat. Laying it across the roof of the car I began walking with a stiff legged gait off in the direction of the trees that surrounded our house. My body temperature began to climb as anger and rage joined forces with all the other churning emotions within me. Red filled my vision, like bloody gauze held across a camera lens. My body felt swollen and unmanageable, my knees didn’t want to bend and my feet felt like cracked and blistered sausages attached to the ends of my shin bones.
I clenched my teeth together tightly as my lips pulled back in a fierce grimace, trying not to shriek out loud from the unspeakable agony that pulsed and churned within.
One of the huge oak trees came into focus before me; one that just that summer I’d hung an old tire from so the kids could swing on it. I lurched forward, placing both palms against its rough outer bark, linked and began unloading what was inside me at almost the very same instant.
The old tree shuddered, shivered and shook from it’s roots all the way to the upper most branch tips, more than thirty feet overhead, then burst into flame and exploded, sending charred chunks of heartwood and smoking splinters flying in all directions. The concussion was as loud as a sonic boom and powerful enough to send me flying backwards into the snow and gravel some twenty feet away.
I lay there in the snow until the ringing in my ears stopped, then crawled to my feet, once again very empty and hollow and without a single emotion to call my own. I walked to the car, took the coat in one hand, shut the car door with the other and headed for the house.
In the doorway stood Lilly, Peggy, Izzy and the children, all of them staring at me with wide eyes as I approached.
“Why’s daddy naked?” Tink asked Rose who was standing next to her. “Isn’t he cold?”
“What was that loud noise Daddy?” Belle asked me when I reached the door and stopped, unable to get thru the small crowd of onlookers.
“One of the trees caught fire and exploded, honey.” I told her in a dead flat monotone.
Lilly cocked her head slightly and stared up into my eyes.
“Are you alright Ike?” she asked.
I blinked a couple of times then shook my head. “No, not really. Can I come in, or should I go stand out on the lawn and pretend to be a statue?”
Peggy and Lilly pulled the kids back and made a path for me. Izzy didn’t move, she just stood there, looking confused and a little pale.
I stepped inside, put one hand on Izzy’s arm and moved her back a couple of steps then shut the door behind me. I reached inside my coat and from the inner pocket removed the printouts the hotel manager had given me. I hung the coat on the coat rack by the door, turned back, reached out and handed the papers to my sister. As her fingers closed around the folded pages I leaned down and put my lips alongside her left ear.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Isabeau?” I said dully, stood upright and walked on past, heading in the direction of the stairs that led to the second floor.
Behind me I heard a sudden gasp, followed by a strangled sob. “Oh God, no!”
I kept walking, one step at a time, all the way up the stairs, along the hall and into our room. I looked around at some of the things that had once been such important parts of my life, and was suddenly sick to my stomach.
I went into the bathroom and got in the shower, standing under nearly scalding hot water for close to half an hour before shutting it off and sitting down on the damp tile with my knees pulled up against my chest. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I began to shiver from the cold. Getting to my feet I stepped out of the shower stall, dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist.
I walked back out into the bedroom and found Peggy sitting on the bed watching me. I went into the closet and got my old duffle bag from the back corner, shook it open and began shoving pants and shirts into it. When it was filled nearly two thirds of the way to the top I lifted it up and carried it out to my dresser and began to fill it the rest of the way with socks and underwear. I left just enough room for a couple pairs of shoes and leaned the bag against the wall next to the dresser.
Turning to go back into the closet, I found Peggy blocking my way. I could just make out drying traces of tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Ike, I know you’re hurting something awful right now, but don’t shut us out. Please?”
I looked down into her soft, understanding brown eyes, eyes filled with love and compassion. I bent down, carefully slipped my hands under her arms, lifted her up and held her so that we were eye to eye.
“I don’t feel anything but sick.” I walked the both of us over to the bed and stood her on the mattress. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. I stopped feeling much of anything when I found out around noon that she’d gone to a hotel with another man. I didn’t feel a thing when I followed them there, didn’t feel anything while I waited in the parking garage for them to come out and I didn’t feel anything when I saw them leaving together around six. I only felt…hollow…watching the two of them kiss in the front seat of his car at the school parking lot.” I stopped for a moment and shut my eyes. “Well, that’s not quite true. I very briefly felt like killing the sonofabitch. But I missed my chance and then I didn’t feel anything. I followed her all the way home and all I felt was numb. Then outside, after I finished parking the car…then I felt something. One hell of a lot of something. I felt every ugly, nasty, unpleasant and unhappy emotion you can imagine. All at once and so powerfully, so intensely, that I had to put them somewhere quick or they could have destroyed me. It only took an instant, maybe a little less, but as soon as I linked with that tree outside it burst into flames and exploded, just like a bomb. Knocked me right off my feet and on smack-dab on my ass. And now I just feel sick to my stomach again. Nothing else; just hollow and empty and sick. But for how long? How long before I lose control again and blow something else up? Blow someone up?”
I turned away and went into the closet, picked out two pairs of shoes, brought them out, stuffed them into the duffle and closed it up, securing it with the shoulder strap clip.
“Ike, don’t you love us?” she asked me hesitantly.
I stopped moving and thought for a moment. “Yes, of course I do. I love all of you. But something is very wrong with me right now and I don’t want to risk hurting any of you accidentally. Peggy…right this minute there’s nothing in the world I would rather do than lay down on this bed; hold you and Lilly and the babies as close to me as my own skin and try to remember that there are people who love me. I’d kill for the chance to do that…but I won’t endanger my family just for my own comfort.”
“Ike, you’d never hurt one of us. Never! No matter how mad or angry you might be.”
“Half-pint, I’ve never hurt anyone with my talent accidentally. But right now I can’t control it. I can’t control myself. I’ve tried and I just can’t. And I won’t risk you, Lilly or the children. Or my sister. Until I can figure out how to regain control I have to leave. You know how to get in touch with me in case there’s trouble. The office knows to put you thru no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”
“At least let me come with you.” she pleaded. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I tried to smile, but could only manage a crooked half grin. I reached out and caressed her arm with my fingertips.
“No, I don’t think so. You’ve gotten good, sweetie, very good, but you’re nowhere near strong enough to stop me if I go off. Besides, Lilly’s going to need help with the kids…and Isabeau’s going to need you too. Keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Little late for that!” she snarled.
I moved close and wrapped my arms around her small body, pulling her hard against me.
I kissed her softly on the neck and whispered in the direction of her ear.
“Remember years ago, when I explained to you all about how I didn’t own your lives? How your lives belonged to you and only you?”
She nodded, throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing as tight as she could. “I remember. It was stupid. Stupid then and it’s stupid now.”
“No…it was necessary. You girls decided to share one guy three ways. There were bound to be inequities. One of you, or possibly all three at some point were going to feel slighted, cheated, ignored or left out. I had to give each of you a way out if that ever happened. Out of simple fairness.” I sighed heavily and felt tears rolling down my cheeks. “I knew then that this day might come. I hoped that it wouldn’t, but I knew it could. I thought I was prepared. Brother was I ever wrong.”
I raised my arms and pried Peggy’s from around my neck then stepped back.
“If you have to, knock Isabeau out and keep her that way. And watch out for a black haired man, late thirties to early forties, name of Alex Chorney. If he comes around, do whatever you have to, but keep him away.” I felt the strident tingling begin…the early warning sign that the flood was returning. “I’m starting to fill up again. Time to go kill another tree, and then I have to go. Tell Lilly I love her and explain why I have to leave. And tell the kids…tell them I love them all very much and that none of this is their fault.”
Fat tears were coursing down Peggy’s face as well as mine and when she nodded her head the tears flew off, one or two landing on my chest, burning my skin and filling me with heavy waves of sorrow and regret.
“I do love you.” I said, taking my spare keys from the dresser and putting them in the side pocket of the duffle. I tossed the bag over my shoulder, opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hall, down the stairs and up to the front door. I grabbed my coat, opened the door and hurried out onto the porch, slamming the door closed behind me.
I lept off the porch and into the snow with a single long stride and ran towards my car, tossing the bag and my coat down next to it as I sprinted out towards the still smoking remains of the old oak tree. The now familiar red haze filled my sight once again as another swirl of powerful feelings burst into being within me just as my hands touched the large elm tree eleven feet to the left of the smoking crater where once stood a mighty oak. I linked—unloaded—and just as before the tree burst into flames and exploded, sending me flying backwards to land naked in the snow.
I struggled to my feet, shook my head from side to side to clear the loud ringing in my ears and looked at the wreckage I’d caused.
“GODDAMN YOU!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs, linked with another tree and poured everything that was left in me down the link. This time it didn’t catch fire, it simply exploded with a sound like thunder.
“…goddamn you….”
When the wooden shrapnel finished flying by I picked the larger pieces out of my chest and shoulders, trudged to my car, pulled a pair of shoes, pants and a shirt out of the duffel, dressed as quickly as I could, pulled my coat on and checked the pockets. Wallet, ID…but no keys. Reaching into the side pocket of the duffel I removed the spare keys, opened the car door, tossed the duffel onto the passenger seat and got behind the wheel. With a last look towards the house I saw Lilly and Peggy in the front window looking out. I raised my hand in their direction, just for a moment, then started the engine, flipped on the lights and drove off into the darkness.