After Sundown (20 page)

  Deep in thought, Russell did not hear Emily come into the office. Since entering his forties, he had become increasingly aware of the fragile quality of life. Today’s news only enforced that belief. Happiness was elusive and tenuous.

Russell first heard the news bulletin on his way to work. A car accident claimed the life of a long-time Coulson resident, and until the family was notified, the identity would not be released. Since he knew most of the long-time residents, he immediately called Carter to learn the victim’s identity.

"Well?" Emily stood several feet behind Russell. Interrupted from his private thoughts, he turned and faced his secretary. She was surprised to find tears brimming in his blue eyes.

"Oh my God, who was it?" she gasped.

"Ryan Keller," he answered softly, then walked to his desk and sat down, leaning back wearily in his large chair.

"Ryan Keller?" she puzzled, suddenly relieved it was not someone she knew personally. "Isn't he the one that owns the Lucky Lady Restaurant and Saloon?" He nodded. She walked over to Russell and sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk.

"Well, that's too bad. But I didn't know you were even friends."

"We graduated from high school together. At one time, we were very good friends," Russell said sadly. He leaned over the desk and rested his elbows against the desktop. "That was a very long time ago."

"He's married to Alexandra Keller," she stated hesitantly.

"That's right."

"I don't care for the woman," Emily blurted out impulsively, only to be met by a harsh glare. "It doesn’t mean I don't feel sorry for her loss. I simply find her to be rather…
”
What was the right word
, she asked herself
- annoying, irritatingly middle class, PTA,
d
en
m
other,
c
ookie sales volunteer?

"Everyone likes Alexandra Keller," Russell stated wearily. He should be angry at Emily's callousness. Yet, that was Emily.

"No. You like everyone," she smiled sweetly. "It is too bad. Why hasn't the radio broadcasted Ryan Keller’s name? Surely they've contacted his wife by now."

Emily, who was absently inspecting her manicure, was growing a little bored with the conversation, yet she didn't want to appear too insensitive. A couple of concerned
inquiries,
then she could get back to work. She wanted to get out of the office for an early lunch. There was a
lovely
pair of gold earrings she wanted to buy.

"They have a teenage son, Adam. He's on a fishing trip with Ryan's brother, Jimmy. Until they contact Jimmy and Adam, no names will be released," Russell glanced up and noticed Emily’s attention was elsewhere.
Cold bitch
, he thought. But, she was an excellent assistant.

"I really must get back to work," Emily jumped up and patted Russell’s shoulder, then left the room.

Once alone in his office, Russell reached for his phone. Before he dialed the number, he pushed his intercom.

"Emily?"

"Yes, Mr. Coulson?" Emily’s voice came from the small box.

"Until further notice, I don't want to be disturbed. Hold all my calls. No exceptions."

"Yes, Mr. Coulson."

With a deep sigh, Russell moved his hand from the intercom to his phone and dialed.

"
Coulson Enterprises
," answered a female voice.

"Garret Coulson's office,” Russell requested. He glanced up at the closed door, which separated his private office from the outer office.

"Garret Coulson's office," answered a familiar female voice.

"Hello, Susan, is my brother in?"

"Hello, Mr. Coulson," Susan's greeting brightened with recognition. "How’s the weather in Coulson?"

"Warm and sunny," Russell grinned. He always played the weather game with Garret's assistant. "How's the weather there?"

"You rat. We’re getting snow," Susan laughed. "I'll put your brother on."

Garret Coulson stretched out awkwardly in his swivel office chair. There simply was not room for his six-foot-three frame to get comf
ortable. Leaning back casually
, he contemplated life.

He hated
Chicago
. He hated his damned office. He missed Coulson. Yet, he'd been exiled, a self-imposed exile. Lifting one foot, he gave his desk a kick, but instead of sending his chair sprawling backward, his desk jolted forward just as his phone rang.

He sat up straight and grabbed the phone’s receiver. Susan announced Russell was on the phone. If Russy gloated about the weather, Garret swore he would reach through the phone line and strangle his little brother.

"If you say warm and sunny, you're off my Christmas list," Garret growled into the phone.

"Morning Garret," Russell's voice was weary, no jesting: trouble at home. Garret pulled his chair up to the desk and took a firmer hold of the phone’s receiver.

"What's the problem Russy?"

"There was a car accident in Coulson yesterday morning. Three people were killed," Russell spoke softly, carefully measuring the words.

"Who?" Garret did not bother asking if he knew the victims. It was obvious he did, or his brother would not be calling.

"Ryan Keller."

There was just a moment of silence before Garret blurted out, "Oh my God, Alex!"

"No Garret," Russell hurriedly replied. He had not considered his brother would jump to that conclusion. "Alex wasn't with him. Ryan was alone in the car. The other two were the driver and passenger from the other vehicle. They weren't from Coulson."

Relief flooded Garret. He could feel the familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. After ten years, Alexandra still had the ability to take hold of his heart and bring him to his knees. He steadied his voice, unwilling to reveal his inner emotions to his younger brother.

"How's Alex holding up?" Russell noticed the instantaneous change in Garret's tone, distant, detached and remote. Russell smiled sadly.

"I've no idea. Jimmy's out of town with their son. From what I understand, Jimmy and Adam don't know yet."

"How old is Adam now?" Garret remembered the last time he saw the boy, Adam was barely in grade school. Even then, he was a miniature of Ryan Keller.

"I think he's a junior or senior. Not sure."

"Rough age to lose a father."

"Any age is bad to lose a father," Russell replied, and then he asked, "I imagine the funeral will be in two or three days. Will you come?"

"You've got to be kidding." Garret was astonished that Russell would make such a suggestion.

"Alex always considered you a good friend."

Silence.

"She might need you," Russell's words were hesitant, soft.

"I am her friend," Garret's voice was low, "and as her friend, her very dear friend, I would never consider subjecting her to such confusion. I'm the last person she'd want to see at Ryan's funeral."

"I suppose you're right," Russell conceded, then added, "But you will come home now? Maybe not right away, but sometime in the near future."

"I’ll talk to you later," Garret was not ready to answer his brother's question.

"Do you want me to give your condolences to Alex, when I see her at the funeral?"

"No," the answer was firm, absolute. "Don't mention me."

First Meeting

After Garret said goodbye to his brother and placed the handset back on the base of the desk phone, he closed his eyes and thought of the first time he met Alex. He imagined he must have been about Adam's age.

Randall
Coulson, a rich industrialist from the East, was anxious for a new adventure in the southwest, and so he purchased an immense section of land in the late 1940's.
A significant portion of the property was purchased from one of the major railroads.
Relocating his industrial e
m
pire in the infant community was just one goal. He planned to make Coulson a resort paradise. True to his word,
Randall
acco
m
plished just what he set out to do.

Garret was just a small boy when his family moved to Coulson. His parents, transplanted from a world of culture, country clubs and social status, resented the move, yet had no choice in the matter.
Randall
controlled the empire, the money and the family. 

Unlike his parents, Garret loved small-town living. As a child, he swam in the nearby lakes, hiked in the mountains, wore cowboy boots and later drank beer while riding in the back of an old pickup truck. He hated the fact that everyone was poor but the
Coulson family
. He envied his friends who went unnoticed.

While Garret's parents worked to make Coulson into
Randall
’s dream -- an upscale resort community -- Garret worked to fit in with the working class Coulson. In Coulson during the 1950's, everyone was blue collar except the Coulson family.

The town’s first school was a modest building, which housed kindergarten through high school. When Garret began his junior year,
Coulson
High School
was built next door to the original school. New families moved into the community, and one of those included a high school teacher named Beth Chamberlain.

By the time Garret turned sixteen, he was the terror of Coulson. Had his grandfather not owned the town, he would have been expelled years before. Handsome and cocksure, Garret spent his time seducing the majority of the female student body or getting drunk with his buddies. He was rude to his teachers, and had long since learned that if he would never completely fit in because he was a Coulson, he would use the name to his advantage. This meant he could bully, intimidate, and dominate. Other parents might have pulled in the reins, yet
Randall
smiled silently and told Garret's parents not to worry. A true Coulson needed to sow his wild oats.

Beth Chamberlain was Garret's algebra teacher and a mother of three. Having three children of her own, she was appalled at Garret's unruly and outlandish behavior. Since she had just moved to Coulson during the previous summer, she had no idea of the power wielded by the Coulson family.

Beth also knew that Garret was extremely bright, and if he would simply apply himself, he could easily get excellent grades and prepare for college. The fact that
Randall
Coulson had enough money to buy Garret the college of his choice, in spite of the boy’s mediocre grades, meant little to Beth. She wanted her students to succeed on their own merits.

One day, after an especially exasperating encounter with Garret, Beth ordered the student to return to her classroom at the end of the school day. She was furious and quite adamant. Garret was amused and a bit curious, as no teacher had dared reprimand him since kindergarten. Curiosity alone brought him to Mrs. Chamberlain's class that October afternoon.

He arrived at the classroom just as Mrs. Chamberlain was preparing to leave.

"I see you made it," she responded, a bit surprised he showed up. When several of her colleagues learned she had told Garret to return to her classroom at the end of the day, they suggested she not hold her breath. Not only would he fail to show, no one in the administration would back her up. Yet, here he was.

"I need to make a phone call. I'd like you to sit at your desk, quietly. I expect you to wait for me," Garret eyed his teacher curiously. He knew she was surprised to see him. In fact, she looked just a bit nervous, even after delivering her terse demand.
Aw, what the hell
, he thought, he would wait for her. He had nothing else to do.

He was alone in the classroom for about five minutes when
she
showed up. She didn't walk into the room; she bolted in, as if chased by a pack of wolves. She was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. From the looks of her large, expressive hazel-colored eyes, brimming with the promise of tears, she was about to burst into sobs.