Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
She yanked the bottle from his hand,
but even the shattering of glass against a rock brought no expression to Brad's
face.
Having once been an accomplished
drinker, Bernie knew what a half bottle of Jack Daniel's could do.
“Don't you know this stuff will rot your
insides?”
Bernie's earlier
statement finally registered in Brad's mind.
“Crying?
Honest, Bernie, nothing
happened.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Bernie
threw her hands in the air, “Why I believe you I'll never know.
Listen buddy, there's one hell of a mess in
the kitchen.
Sam does not know a damn
thing about cooking dinner and you’ve deserted her to wallow in self-pity.”
The accuracy of
Bernie's reprimand strumming a nerve brought a dance of anger to Brad's eyes,
“If you were a man.”
Standing soldier erect with a look
that would defy God himself, Bernie tilted her chin. “You'd what, knock me on
my ass?
Go ahead, try.”
With her pointer finger, she jabbed Brad in
the shoulder.
“You can't go on this way,
mister.
The time has come to confront
the problem.
Tell Sam how you feel.
Tell Ted.
Let the ball fall where it may, at least it will be out in the
open.
Sam has fewer brains than I
thought.
Obviously, she cares about you
or she would not be crying.
I could give
two shits about what happened, but I am not stupid.
If you don't get this straightened out,
things are only going to get worse, and besides, I'm starving.”
Jet black eyes scanned Bernie's
face; beautiful, wise, and charming, why couldn't I have fallen in love with
her, Brad pondered.
Encircling her waist
with one arm, yanking her hard against him he kissed her to cease what he knew
would be a barrage of lectures.
Despite knowing, the fruits of
passion ripened by Sam sweetened his kiss he rendered Bernie helpless.
She became mush in his arms.
Like a lamb led to slaughter, he guided her into
the forest of trees, dallied beneath her clothing, and took her on all fours
like an animal in heat until she was dazed and breathless.
Dear God, there were two men in her life,
Brad who filled her heart, and Peter who filled other places.
When Sam's hand stirred the curtain,
she could not believe the view.
She
wanted to move away, but her emotions could not control her movements.
Despair churning in her chest made the brush
slip from her hand.
The patch of warmth
Brad stitched over her heart had ripped wide open.
Both were alike, neither Bernie nor Brad knew
the first thing about being faithful.
As
one brain wave reasoned it was only a kiss between friends, another knew
better.
When they disappeared into the
cluster of trees, she vowed her friendship with both was over, definitely over.
Disappearing into the trees, Sam
fumed, presumably it was quite commonplace for them.
Women were nothing more than a game of chess
to Brad, pieces he moved around and dispensed with when bored.
A flash of temper coming to her aid ate like
an infection at the wound Brad unknowingly inflicted making the pleasure he
made her feel evaporate and turn to a hard heavy weight in her chest.
Feeling so fickle, so easily diverted, she
waspishly sputtered, “How dare they screw around where someone might see
them.
How would Peter feel?
What would he think?
Surely, they were having a clandestine
affair.
She had been right from the start Sam decided,
Brad could not provide the most important ingredient in life,
faithfulness.
She would always wonder
about him, and Bernie and all the others, her jealousy the eating away, killing
kind.
She should be thankful for one
thing, she did not have the memory of Brad's kiss, and she vowed vehemently
never to afford him the opportunity again.
It
was late afternoon when the smells from the kitchen escalated everyone's
appetite.
Bernice, Brad, and Sam
completed the festive meal in chilling silence.
It was time to serve up the traditional
feast and, as if nothing had happened, everyone assisted rushing around
carrying to the table platters of delectable, potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce,
salad, eggs, relishes and stuffing, to the table.
Selecting the golden brown steaming Turkey,
Brad placed it in the center and while he carved, his friends took their
places.
Soon everyone's plate overflowed
with the mouth-watering delicacies, except for Brad and Sam’s, who
painstakingly arranged theirs with small dabs to make them appear presentable.
The
first Holiday in his own home was a long awaited occasion, Brad reflected.
A Holiday that should be filled with
happiness and excitement; instead it was as though despondency invited itself
to dinner.
Everyone began to eat
as if it was the last supper until, unable to bare the silence any longer, Ted
declared, “Enough already.
God, you
would think everyone was at this damn Turkeys' wake.
How about a toast, I didn't buy this
exquisite champagne just to go flat in your glasses.”
Lifting their flutes upon command,
Bernie, Brad and Sam's face lit up with counterfeit smiles.
Peter followed the gesture sensing the three
musketeers were hiding something.
“That's better.
To all of us, may this celebration be our
first of many as one big happy family.” Bubbles popped tickling noses as
champagne wet lips with its sweetness.
Sam
did not drink from her flute she simply held it transfixed, an expression of
shock realigning her features.
Her lips
separating only emitted whispers echoing off the rim, “Oh, my, oh, my!”
Eyes flicking in her
direction watched tears pool and spill down now rosy cheeks.
Suspense increased when she placed her other
hand around the stem to stabilize the quaking beginning to stain linen.
Coming
upright to recover the glass from her hand reaching into the liquid, Ted
retrieved a three-carat diamond ring.
Knelling, he claimed her hand and with each word inched the extravagant
treasure onto her finger.
“It would be
an honor, Samantha Waverly, if you would agree to be my wife.”
An unexpected proposal sealed with a kiss
pressed against trembling flesh and bones.
As
if bramble bushes, Sam's thoughts tumbled over one another, Ted meant what he
said all along.
He loved her.
He had been so patient, so understanding.
Did she hear correctly?
Did he actually propose?
She stared at the exquisite, glittering rock
weighing down her finger.
Served up an
opportunity of a lifetime she was, and now had everyone's attention as the
group held breaths anticipating her answer.
Thin arms strangling Ted's neck cut
off his windpipe.
“Oh, yes . . .
yes . . .
yes . . . “
Dragging her with him Ted stood,
lifting her and spinning her around and around.
“You just made me the happiest man in the world.”
The scene unfolding
would have been sentimental, romantic, electrifying had she paid attention.
Bernie's eyes focused elsewhere.
Only she deciphered the silent words snared
by a constricted throat washing Brad’s face carefully blank, and turning his
eyes dull with anguish.
She wondered
what he would do, what he would say.
The
chance to express his feelings snatched beneath him like a plummeting
elevator.
She saw the lump expand his
throat as he gulped a full glass of champagne, watched as he refilled it with
pale, amber liquid whose froth matched that within.
Bernie fidgeted wondering
if the champagne mixed with whiskey would loosen
Brad's tongue enough to bring on a barrage of honesty.
If so, she moaned inwardly, at this point he
would only make a fool of himself.
She
had been wrong all along; Sam did not feel the same toward Brad after all.
There was no way she could make it to Brad's
side in time.
It was too late.
With
a momentary clenching of one long fingered hand on the stem of his glass, Brad
held it high and spoke like a chivalrous knight.
“I believe this occasion calls for a toast.
Allow me to be the first to congratulate the perfect pair.
To you, Ted, for your insight in selecting
the most beautiful, charming, intelligent woman I have ever had the honor to
know, and, to you, Princess, for roping and braking the wildest of stallions.
I am proud to be a friend to both of
you.
My wish is you'll always cherish
the love that will surely bring more happiness than you've ever known.”
Expelling
a breath held too long, Bernie realized she should have known better.
Brad was too old at pretense to give him
away.
He would take on the weight of the
world rather than hurt those he loved.
After masterfully delivering the lie, he gallantly excused himself due
to a mother and father of all headaches.
Only Bernie noticed him staggering toward his room.
Over
pumpkin pie and coffee, excitement circled the table everyone discussing
wedding plans.
Brad would be Ted’s best
man, and Bernie’s heart expanded to capacity when Sam insisted she be her maid
of honor.
It was thumbs up for New Year's
Day which left little time for arranging the elaborate wedding Ted insisted on
having.
No
one heard the limousine leave with Thomas in the passenger seat, Brad behind
the wheel.
The dreams Brad dared to
dream vanished beneath burning rubber.
Convinced
he was that no longer did he know anything about anything?
Nervously
examining the road ahead, Thomas bit his lips preparing himself to grab the
wheel should Brad fail to maneuver the next curve.
Excessive speed had matched the alcohol level
in Brad’s blood.
CHAPTER 33
“NOVEMBER, 2010”
Metal file drawers were
open in varying degrees, folders scattered on the floor, desk, and chairs.
Delicate fingers were busily flipping through
the pages of a dossier. An entire week consumed searching for some clue.
Positioned on the carpet hidden behind her
desk, Susan sat perplexed. “Who was Sommer’s after?”
The sleeve of her blouse- dried perspiration
from her forehead, a finger flicked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
Mediocre clients would not warrant a meeting
with thugs, Susan was positive.
Murder
would be the last resort in something big.
Cringing at the thought glinting memories of the board members flashed
before her blocking out the bellowing phones.
Monday the phone rang
repetitively with complaints of major ramification requiring Sommer’s presence
at a building site.
Furious, he charged
from the office checking in throughout the week only on occasion for messages.
Susan did not miss Howard's presence, or
amorous experiments, the mere thought of his touch made her sick to her
stomach.