Ravaged Souls

By DL Bragdon

Embittered by a devastating act of betrayal, caught in the perpetual crossfire between an over-protective mother and his wayward younger sister, Tom's life is a directionless mess. Then a chance encounter with a beautiful woman offers him a rare opportunity to rise above it all, if only he has the courage to take it. But Tom has a secret, one buried so deeply even he's unaware of it, and so terrible that it threatens to destroy them all. There are times when forgiveness is more than a choice, it's the difference between life and death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DL Bragdon
• Release date: Mar 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311557186

DL Bragdon

Epublished on Smashwords:Dark RuminationsRavaged Souls

Book preview

Ravaged

Souls

By D.L. Bragdon

This story is copyright 2016 by DLBragdon. All rights reserved.

Smashwords edition

Caution: This is a work of fiction containing material that may be objectionable and/or offensive to some; including, but not limited to, graphic language and adult themes. It is intended for adult readers only. Names, characters, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

Act I - The Simple Kind

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Act II - An Instant of Eternity

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Act III - On the Edge of Ugly

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Prologue

July 16, 1993

Janet

How did it come to this? I got played for a fool. There's no candy coating it. I was played and I fell right into it. Damn it, I thought I was smarter than that!

An angry frown darkened Janet Brookes' face as the bitter thoughts ran through her mind. She sat at a small kitchen table, silently sipping from a pink pastel colored coffee mug with the words 'World's Greatest Mom' emblazoned across its front in whimsical, white cursive lettering. The mug was a gift she received from the youngest of her two children on her last birthday. The yellow terry cloth robe she wore had been given to her by her oldest on the same occasion.

The overhead lights were off, the room's only source of illumination came from a lamp left burning in the adjacent living room. Janet's straight, black hair, normally worn down with its tips resting lightly on the shoulder, had been swept up and set into an impromptu ponytail. To a casual observer she might have the appearance of a woman settling down for the night, relaxing at the end of a long day. It had been a long day for her, but that day was not yet over and she was far from relaxed.

She was not in the habit of drinking coffee this late in the evening. The caffeine tended to make her 'twitchy' as her own mother would say, making it difficult to sleep. She doubted that it would make much of a difference tonight though.

It's not the caffeine that's got me on edge tonight. I wish it were. If only it was that simple.

She was not in the habit of smoking either, not for quite some time at least. She had gotten along quite well without that particular habit for seven years. Now however, there was a half-empty pack of Marlboro Lights resting near the center of the table, next to them lay a bright red, Bic lighter. It would be easily apparent to any veteran smoker that the lighter had been a recent purchase, as the warning sticker on its side remained pristine as yet. In the coming days it would slowly be eaten away by the countless rubbings it would receive from nervous fingers running over it endlessly. The ashes from the already consumed portion of the pack lay at the bottom of the right sink, flicked there haphazardly in lieu of an ashtray.

Janet was no longer a young woman, at least by her own standards, though she expected that a few of her regulars down at the Shop N' Save might have cause to disagree. She would be observing her 42nd birthday next month, and while there were many that might enviously call that 'young', she was not among them.

Still, all in all, she believed herself to be in fairly good shape for a woman of her age. A good part of that, she had to admit, was just pure dumb luck on her part. She was one of those fortunate few blessed with 'good genes', another one of her mother's sayings. She was not short, she was petite; meaning that along with her diminutive stature, Janet had been blessed with a naturally slim and athletic build which she diligently maintained with regular light exercise. The daily walk, a round trip circuit of approximately three miles, was a habit she had adopted at roughly the same time she had abandoned the far less healthy smoking habit.

Her brown eyes were slightly elongated, a subtle tell-tale characteristic trait of her Asian heritage. She knew that it was commonly whispered among the town's gossips that her mother had been of oriental descent, likely a woman left behind by a returning serviceman. The truth was rather the reverse. Janet's more exotic features were an inheritance from her father, it was his only legacy to her, one small, yet enduring, reminder of his existence. Janet had never known her biological father, a fact which had never really concerned her overmuch. Her mother had been the source of enough frustration while growing up, she had hardly felt the need for a second parent to watch over her.

Vivien, Janet's mother, had been raised in a small town some fifty-odd miles away, and in all likelihood would probably die there within a matter of blocks of where she had been born. In that respect her mother was very much like many other women of her generation living in the rural Florida panhandle. Yet even Vivien had been young once, and it was during this time that she had spent several years in South Korea as a nurse. Janet, her only child, was born soon after her mother's return to the states.

Janet took another sip from her cup, frowning at the liquid's tepid temperature. She stood, turned slightly to take the coffee pot from its perch on the warmer, and refilled her cup before returning the pot to its previous position. Seated once more, she watched as fresh steam rose lazily from the mug before her. She suddenly recalled a favorite saying that Travis had repeated often, The two things I hate most are cold coffee and warm beer.

Travis had undoubtedly been the love of her life, but he had left her over ten years ago. Then he had died two years after that, dashing any lingering hopes she may have harbored for reconciliation. Still she found that the smallest of things would bring her thoughts back to him. Perhaps, as Janet rather suspected, they always would.

Some people are easy to let go, but with some it's impossible. The bitch of it is, we never get a choice on which is which.

Even though they had been separated at the time of his death, with the paperwork of divorce slowly working its way through the court system, the love between them had never dimmed. Love however, contrary to the old Beatles song, was not always enough. There are times when people that deeply love each other, for whatever reasons, simply cannot not make the pieces fit no matter how hard they may try. That had been a hard lesson for Janet to learn, but the pain of their separation was only the beginning as it turned out.

News of the traffic accident that took his life would begin an almost year-long bout of depression for her. In time it would be love of another sort that eventually brought her back from the blackness that her life had become. She had two young children to attend to; Tommy, the oldest at nine, and Jennifer, age seven. With the help of friends and family Janet slowly stitched her life back together. She dropped the cigarettes, took up the daily walk, and resumed her life as best she could. It had not been so much for her own sake as it was her childrens'.

It would be another four years after that before she was ready to take another chance with her heart. This time it would take the form of John Foster, a man who, oddly enough, was completely different from Travis in almost every measurable sense. This was a fact for which she had been grateful initially. They dated for six months before he asked her to marry him, but she was not ready for marriage yet and told him as much. Instead, she made a counter-offer, inviting him to move in with her without the obligations that a wedding ring would entail for either of them. The gossips would call it 'shacking-up', but Janet cared less about the good opinions of the local rumor mongers than she had about her father's whereabouts.

That was almost three years ago. Seems like forever now. Thank God, I said no. I finally got one thing right at least.

Janet found herself staring blankly at the pack of cigarettes. How long ago had she smoked the last one? Fifteen minutes ago, maybe. She could not remember. For all the years she had gone as a non-smoker the compulsion she felt now seemed as powerful as ever, reawakened in full by their mere presence in the room. It was a mistake to buy them again after all this time. She knew this to be true, but she no longer cared, not with her knowing what was in front of her tonight. Janet's hands trembled ever so slightly as she reached out and took another cigarette from the dwindling pack.

Screw it! she said to the empty room as she lit the cigarette, the harsh sound of her own voice surprising her with its bitter tone. She had hoped that the hours she spent waiting might help to calm her anger somewhat. That had been a futile wish however. If anything her inner fury was only growing with each passing tick of the clock.

Janet glanced at the digital clock built into the oven that sat opposite of her along the far wall of the kitchen; 11:02.

He's late again, not that it's any huge surprise. If he had been back early, or even 'on-time', now that would be surprising. I have to wonder now, of all those times he's come home late, how often was it from the same place? How often did I go to bed alone so that he could stretch out every last moment with her?

As though on cue, she heard the soft click of a key being inserted into the front door, followed by a muffled creaking as the door slowly opened and then was closed. Janet silently laughed to herself. For ears attuned to silence for hours on end, as hers now were, the sounds he made as he slowly navigated through the living room marked his progress as surely as would have a full-throated battle cry.

He thinks I'm stupid. He thinks he can just slip in unnoticed and everything will be just hunky-dory. Well, why wouldn't he? Why would tonight be any different?

It's after eleven.

Janet intended the words to come out low and even tempered, but her voice seemed to resonate in the darkened room with a tone of menace vaguely reminiscent of a low rumble of thunder carried on the air from a distant storm. The creeping figure froze instantly in an almost comical fashion. With a quick flick of her wrist Janet flipped the light switch, flooding the kitchen with light.

John stood just beyond the doorway connecting the kitchen to the hallway. As usual he was dressed simply, sporting a white t-shirt with a small Harley-Davidson logo covering the left breast pocket and an old pair of weather-beaten blue jeans. He was a tall man, standing at just over 6'4". His lanky frame further accentuated this height, giving him the semblance of a scarecrow.

John tended to wear his hair longer than most men in a manner that could almost, though not quite, be labeled as hippie-esque. When Janet had first met him she had regarded it as one among several of his most endearing traits. In the kitchen's harsh lighting she now saw it for what it was; a pathetic attempt to desperately hold on to a youthful past that had slipped his grasp long ago. Janet noted the rapid thinning at the crown of his head with uncharitable satisfaction.

He was five years older than Janet, but in the bright glare of the kitchen lights it looked more like a difference of ten. His face was criss-crossed with a series of fine lines that made aging with grace impossible for him. What his face currently showed most starkly was surprise. It was but a momentary effect though. Already his mouth was curving into a familiar smile. She had to admit that when he cared to make the effort, he had a way about him that could charm a rattlesnake.

Hey baby, you're up. And here I was trying to slip in all quiet like so I wouldn't wake you. Guess you got the jump on me tonight.

His voice was warm and entreating, as was typical of many Southern men. His drawl sounded as sweet to the ear as a dollop of ice cream would to the tongue. He was a man as experienced at placating the mercurial moods of the female sex as anyone, perhaps more so than most could boast. How many times had he deflected her anger with just such a smile and his honeyed words? She had never bothered to keep track of such things but it was many times, of that she was quite sure. She was equally assured that tonight would not be one of those times.

Sit down John. There's a pot of coffee on if you want some. She leaned forward slightly and sniffed the air. As she expected she caught the faint whiff of alcohol coming from his direction mixed in with an even fainter scent she could not quite identify. She did not think he was drunk, at least not by legal standards, but she expected he was not far from it. Smells to me like you could use a cup.

Nah, that's ok baby. Been a long day. Think I'm just gonna hop into the shower real quick like and call it a night.

I said sit down John. We need to talk.

Janet's voice barely rose above a whisper as she spoke, but the effect could hardly have been greater if she had screamed it at him. As any child could tell you, there was a certain tone of voice acquired early by every mother throughout the ages, at once both learned and instinctive, guaranteed to get the attention of the misbehaving. If ever there was an occasion to use it with John, this was it.

John did as he was told. He grabbed a nearby chair, gave it a quick twirl, and plopped down on it backwards, his hands dangling over the chair back. The smile was still there, but a new wariness had crept into his eyes.

Your boss called today. He wanted to check in on you. Make sure you were doing ok. You know, on account of you being out sick and all.

John's smile slipped a bit. Janet could see it dawning on him that the dice had been rolled once too often and now it was finally catching up to him. He never bothered to try to explain her statement away, instead he just sat there, waiting and listening.

Of course I told him you were just under the weather for awhile and you'd be back to work as soon as could be. There was a hard quality to her voice hinting at the anger beneath. Funny thing though John. It sparked my own curiosity. I mean, if you weren't at work, and you weren't here... She let the implied question trail off into empty space, daring him to try to answer it. Long seconds of silence followed. John made no effort to indicate what he might be thinking.

I'm tired of this game playing, time to end it.

Where were you?

John said nothing.

He's trying to figure out how much I already know, and whether it's worth his time to try to lie his way out.

Apparently it was. The smile, that had all but disappeared earlier, came back wider than ever. Now baby...

Don't 'baby' me, you fucking bastard! She hissed, her self-control in danger of giving way completely.

I was just out with...

Don't lie to me! She warned, her voice just short of a shout.

John cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. Keep it down. The kids will hear you.

Don't you worry about them. Worry about yourself right now!

Yet despite her words and the venomous gaze which accompanied them, she had indeed lowered her voice a notch. Janet leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to recompose herself. Tommy's gone for the night, he drove off to Panama with some of his friends. I don't expect he'll be back till late.

Isabella was a small town whose population of approximately 3,000 included a good number of older retirees. It was common for any local teenagers that possessed the means to travel the thirty five miles to Panama City every chance they got. On summer weekends, such as this one, the city who's unofficial title was the 'Redneck Riviera' presented an irresistible lure to the local youth. Tommy was hardly the 'party-hard' type of kid, a fact for which she was grateful, but if he was with his friends there then she was most likely correct. Tommy would not be back for quite awhile yet.

John and Tommy, who was increasingly focused on establishing his independence, had never gotten along very well from the start. It was just one of those things understood by everyone and talked about by nobody. John was the classic, stereotypical, southern redneck; quick with a laugh and eager to have a good time whenever, wherever, and at whatever cost. Tommy was his opposite; quiet, reflective, almost painfully shy. Janet knew that John had tried his best to make friends at first, but to no avail. They were simply far too different to find anything resembling common ground between them. In the end both had settled for a sort of detente, giving each other ample space.

As for Jenny, Janet looked down at her own hands, suddenly realizing that the cigarette she had lit earlier had burned itself out. She absentmindedly dropped the butt into her coffee mug before continuing on, She had one of those nightmares about Travis again. I gave her some Nyquil to help her get back to sleep. I figure she'll be dead-to-the-world till sunup.

It was only then that John appeared to take notice of the cigarettes. His eyes tracked the spent butt as it slowly swirled along the inside rim of her cup. Its motion had a near hypnotizing effect on him.

You didn't answer me. Where were you this evening?

John paused a bit longer, likely formulating a new and improved lie. Before he could answer Janet's right hand reached into a side pocket of her robe. She quickly fished out a Polaroid picture and contemptuously slammed it down onto the kitchen table. Here, 'baby', she sneered. I'll save you the trouble.

At first glance the picture would seem innocuous enough. The photo showed an average looking pickup truck parked side-by-side with an equally average appearing car. What would make this particular photo hard for him to ignore was that it was John's truck, and the car belonged to a young woman by the name of Sharon Hayes. All this could be confirmed easily enough because Janet had carefully seen to it that the license plates of both vehicles were visible. She had no doubt that the numbers would be easily readable with a simple magnifying glass. Worst of all from his perspective, was where the picture had been taken; the parking lot of the Seaside Inn. The motel was located about thirty miles east, just across the county line. John had surely thought himself safe there from the prying eyes and loose tongues of Isabella's gossip mill. Now Janet was proving to him just how wrong he had been.

She watched his reaction with a degree of angry satisfaction. The game playing was at an end and they both knew it. He was well and truly caught this time. She had suspected his cheating on her for weeks now, but suspicion was not proof. So she had waited patiently, knowing that eventually he would grow careless, and so he had.

I want you out, tonight.

John seemed not to hear her. The photo which he held before him now appeared to command his full attention.

You grab what you can carry for now. After you find a new place to stay call me. We'll arrange a time for you to come collect the rest of your stuff.

John just sat there, showing no apparent reaction. He began turning the Polaroid end-over-end in his hands. He no longer even seemed to see it, his gaze focused on the tabletop surface.

Are you listening to me? I said I want you to leave. Now!

No.

What?! Janet was sure she had heard him incorrectly.

I said no. John lifted his head and looked directly at Janet for the first time since the photo had been revealed. There was no sweetness to his drawl now, no warmth in his eyes, and no smile. Not until I've had my say. You wanted to talk? Ok. You've had your say and now it's my turn.

Janet was flabbergasted. What could he possibly say to this? She angrily stabbed the Polaroid with her finger. Your say? You had your say! It's right here!

He ignored her outburst and continued on, his voice low, yet filled with an undercurrent that hinted of a cold rage equal to her own white-hot fury. You made me go to her. You practically forced me.

What the...?

John did not wait for her to continue, When was the last time we had sex? You'll have to tell me because I'll be damned if I can remember that far back. It had to be before New Year's though, that much at least I know.

I... She stammered in frustration, unable to recall the last time either now that the subject had been broached.

Has it really been that long?

Look Janet, I know full well what you think of me. You've made that pretty clear. I've tried my very best to make you happy, but I suppose that's just not good enough for you.

I don't know what you're talking about. The lie came out smoothly enough, but it was a lie nonetheless. Her heart felt weighed down by a ton of stone at its utterance.

I'm sorry I'm not Travis. I'm sorry that the one you really want can't be here for you, but he's dead. Yes, I've said it. He's dead. Isn't it about high time you accepted that? Because sitting here in the dark wishing otherwise isn't going to change a fucking thing, so I suggest you open your eyes and begin to appreciate what you do have.

Get out John. Janet hissed the words out at him.

John leaned forward over the table. I'll leave when I'm finished, not before. I've still got a lot to say, stuff that I've kept under my hat for a very long time. Tonight it's your turn to do a little listening.

Janet wanted to shout back at him. She wanted to scream obscenities at him. She wanted to run away from the room. She wanted to claw at his eyes. She did none of those things, instead she sat back in her chair and steeled herself for whatever he had to say next.

You know, it doesn't always have to be love. Sometimes sex can just be sex. It's ok to do it just because it feels good. There doesn't have to be anything more to it than that.

That's your excuse? She's just a fuck buddy, so that makes everything alright?

Janet could see his jaw clench in response to her retort. For an instant she was positive he was about to leap across the table at her, but any fear she may have had only served to intensify her own anger.

I was talking about you, not her. She's not the one keeping herself as frigid as a fucking iceberg.

Oh, I think that's been fully established already. You're not the only man in this town that's enjoyed her company of late, or did you think differently? Little miss Hayes is quite the eager slut from what I hear, or has she gone pro now? Tell me John, did you have to pay her to screw you?

Surprisingly he leaned backward on his chair, smiling back at her arrogantly. Damn baby, if I'd known just how pissed it'd get you I would've fucked her a long time back. Truth be told, I was half afraid you wouldn't give a damn. You sure never acted like it.

I want you out, right fucking now! Leave, or I'm calling the sheriff.

Go ahead. Call him. I'm not afraid of him.

John stood and took a step backward, opening a path for her to reach the living room where the phone awaited.

She looked at him intently for a moment before coming to a decision. Wordlessly she rose and started for the doorway. As she passed him he reached out and grasped her left arm, not hard, but firmly.

Baby wait.

It was precisely the wrong thing to do and say, at precisely the wrong time. She put all the power that her small frame could muster into her right hand as she slapped him hard across the face. John staggered back and fell to one knee, dazed by the unexpected attack. A loud cracking sound filled the room, the sound of wood suddenly stressed beyond the breaking point and shattering.

Janet had not thought through her reaction, or what the consequences might be. Now that it was done she instantly realized her mistake. Though briefly stunned, John now blocked her path, rising to his feet before the kitchen's only exit.

Still reacting on pure instinct, she dashed back into the kitchen and threw open a drawer. She frantically searched within for something to use as a weapon. Her hand wrapped around the handle of a steak knife and she raised it before her as she whirled around to face him. John had recovered faster than she expected though. Before she could complete her turn his fist swung out at her. He had clearly meant to aim it dead center at her face, but he mistimed the swing slightly, landing only a glancing blow to her left temple.

Accurate or not, the strike was more than enough to send her flying backwards, her head bouncing hard off the oven door. She lost consciousness as her body slumped, coming to rest in an unceremonious sprawl on the kitchen floor. The attack came so quickly that she never had a chance to feel the pain. That would come later.

Act I

The Simple Kind

Chapter 1

March 4, 2004

Tom

Earth to Major Tom, come in please.

What?

You zoned out on me again. Beverly Dyer had an uncharacteristically concerned look on her face as she regarded Tom.

Tom Brookes leaned back in his chair, a sheepish half smile on his face. His mind had been wandering, as it frequently did, on a path to nowhere. It took a moment's effort to refocus his attention to the present.

The day was bright and sunny. The sky had that brilliant shade of blue that seemed uniquely reserved for cool, clear early spring days. The sun's unimpeded rays striking him from directly above made the day feel warmer than it's actual temperature, which at the moment hovered somewhere near the low 70's. The forecast called for a high chance of thunderstorms over the next couple of days, followed by cooler temperatures by week's end. There had even been some mention of a possible overnight freeze warning, an unusual occurrence for the area in March, though not entirely unheard of. While there might be many eager to grumble about this approaching cold front, Tom was not one of them. He knew that once the summer season had begun in earnest, the days would be marked by oppressive, humidity-laden heat.

The two lunch companions sat at an open air lunch table outside of Billy's Burger Barn, better known around town as simply 'the Barn'. The name was deceptive, the building itself looked absolutely nothing like a barn at all. It was nothing more than a totally unremarkable appearing, locally owned burger joint. The food here was equally unremarkable, except perhaps in price. Due to its location, situated at the side of the town's only major highway and within easy walking distance of what passed for a downtown in Isabella, the Barn was fortunate enough to grab the lion's share of the tourist traffic passing through. Naturally this gave the owner, Billy Melcher, ample incentive to charge significantly more than most locals would be willing to pay. For that reason alone, Tom rarely ate here. With his finances a $6 hamburger was a luxury best avoided whenever possible.

It was Beverly that had called and suggested their meeting here today. It was easy to understand why she had chosen this place to meet. The location she picked made good sense if looked at from her point of view. The Florida First bank where she worked was just around the corner, less than a five minute walk away. What was less clear to Tom was just why she had called in the first place.

The pair made a rather unusual couple, or at least Tom had always thought so in the past, now they could hardly be a called a couple at all, unusual or otherwise. Both were approximately the same age, in their late twenties, with Tom being the older by only a year. Any similarities began and ended there however.

Tom generally regarded his own appearance to be quite mundane. He was of average height and weight. And though he didn't consider himself to be particularly unattractive; his facial features, along with his conservatively styled, brownish-blond hair, and brown eyes could be found on almost any guy in town. He was just the sort of fellow that would easily blend into any crowd unnoticed and unremembered by everyone present. Tom had been told many times, and by many people, that he strongly favored his father. He would just have to take their word for it on that, given that his own memory of his father, who had passed away long ago, had gradually faded over time, dissolving bit by bit into a series of disjointed snapshot images of a man that was now more myth to him than reality.

Beverly, by way of contrast, would always stand out in any group she was associated with. She was attractively petite, but in a wholesome way, with her curves having filled out in just the right proportions to catch the eye of any man. Her face was perfectly formed and highlighted by a spattering of light freckles that only added to her beauty, giving her a pixiesh appearance. She had shortened the length of her hair, and upon closer inspection he was mildly surprised to note that she had dyed it a shade darker as well, transforming her natural crimson to a deep auburn. Most remarkable of all though were her eyes, emerald green. They sparkled and shimmered, bursting with life. There had been a time when he would have done almost anything for an instant's glimpse into those eyes. Now he could hardly bear to glance at them.

As attractive as she was in the physical sense, it was in her personality where Beverly's beauty truly shone. She had always had an enthusiasm about her that seemed on the brink of breaking out chaotically, as if her small frame was incapable of holding back so much raw life. The word that best described her was vivacious. It was a quality about her that made people feel energized and alive just by being around her. It pained him to remember how near the end of their relationship that energy had seemed to flicker and dim. Knowing that it was chiefly because of him had made it hurt all the worse.

In the year immediately after their breakup both had made attempts to keep in touch with the other. It was not that either had any expectation of renewing their romantic relationship, but rather it had been due to a lingering hope that perhaps at least some semblance of their friendship could be salvaged. Tom had found himself unable to muster any real enthusiasm for the effort at the time. For him the wounds had been too fresh, and far too deep to simply forgive and forget. Beverly had tried with greater persistence before grudgingly accepting the truth of the old adage that it takes two.

She was married now, and he had to reluctantly admit to himself that the married life seemed to suit her very well. Upon first meeting her today, he was immediately struck by how happy she appeared, far happier than she had been with him at any rate.

Well, at least there towards the end. Then again, neither of us were all that happy at that point. Were we?

The two had hardly spoken a dozen words to each other since her wedding seven months ago. In a town the size of Isabella it was impossible to avoid the occasional chance meeting, the last occurrence had only been last week in fact, but every such encounter had been awkward and brief. There were many times he had thought to call her. But each time he had picked up the phone he knew it would be a mistake on his part. She had a new life now, one that had no place in it for him anymore.

You do that a lot you know.

Do what?

You know, flake out. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, you've always been that way. Even before...Well, when we were together.

Tom looked down at the tabletop. A half eaten burger lay before him, next to that lay a messy pile of rapidly cooling fries smothered with ketchup.

I know. Sorry about that.

Don't apologize. You know you don't need to apologize to me. It's just... Beverly paused, searching for the words. I always wondered what you were thinking about when you did that. It's like you go into your own private little world or something, a place where nobody gets in without the super -secret password that only you know.

Tom shifted his weight in the chair, then reached into his shirt pocket, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

What were you thinking about just now?

Nothing. He went to light a cigarette, but an errant breeze extinguished the flame before he could complete the process. It took several clumsy attempts before he was finally successful. Beverly said nothing, patiently waiting for him to continue. When at last the cigarette was lit he gave it one long drag. Tom felt the nicotine flooding through his system, calming nerves that he had not realized were so jangled until this moment. Nothing important at least.

When you say nothing... Now it was Beverly's turn to stare at the tabletop, her voice lowering to hardly more than a whisper even though they were alone out here, ...do you mean us?

Tom kept his silence; his lack of a response allowing her to make her own conclusions.

Are you dating again yet?

This line of questioning was beginning to make Tom uncomfortable. A tersely spoken No. was his only answer.

Beverly started to say something, then stopped. Something in the tone of Tom's voice gave her reason to reconsider whatever it was she was about to say. There was a brief flash of anger in her eyes, there and gone again so quickly that Tom wondered if it had been real or simply his imagination.

Why not?

Why should I? He countered.

I don't know. Some people like having the companionship of another. Having someone to be there with them, for them. Some people find that only natural.

Yes, some people do. He admitted pointedly.

Are you still angry at me Tom?

Tom took a deep breath, looked away, and lied. No.

I see.

There was a long period of silence between them, so deep and profound that even the sounds of the traffic whizzing by on the nearby highway seemed to hush out of respect. Neither knew what to say, neither knew where to go with the conversation. Both were afraid that whatever was said would be misinterpreted, or perhaps even worse, correctly understood, causing the other pain.

At last it was Beverly that moved to break the stalemate. Tom...You know that what happened between us...

Tom did not want to hear it, in fact did not think he could stand to hear it. He raised a hand, prompting Beverly to choke off whatever it was she was intending to say. Bev...Beverly. Why did you call?

Beverly lightly bit her lower lip. It was a gesture of hers that Tom was well familiar with, meaning that she had something to say that she would rather not say. He was quite well versed at reading all her little tells and this was perhaps her easiest to spot.

I wanted you to hear this from me, before you heard it from anybody else.

Tom leaned back in his chair, taking another long drag from his cigarette to fortify himself for whatever she had to say.

I'm pregnant.

Janet

It had been a crappy day for Janet Brookes.

It was not so much that anything had gone particularly bad today, it was more a sense that nothing had gone especially right either. Of course this was nothing new or unexpected for her, it seemed that most of her days had leaned pretty heavily to the crappy side lately.

For one thing the annual hell that was spring break was rapidly approaching. While it was true that the vast majority of those hormone driven, overgrown teenagers would bypass sleepy little Isabella on their yearly pilgrimage to the traditional hot spots of Daytona Beach and Panama City, even the relatively few that did arrive here was more than enough for her.

The Shop N' Save was essentially the only real grocery store within a radius of at least 25 miles. There were, of course, a handful of small mom and pop stores in the area, but nothing of any real size. This meant that any tourists spending more than a day or two in town were destined to make it one of their first stops, and by all accounts the year to date had all the earmarks of being a banner one for tourism.

Earlier in the day she had spied a small gaggle of college breakers, their clothing all proudly emblazoned with the bold, squat G of the University of Georgia. The group had consisted of four boys cavorting throughout the store with that wildly joyous abandon of a pack of dogs long cooped up in cages and suddenly sprung free. In their wake had trailed the lone female of the group, a pretty little Hispanic girl her facial expressions alternating between mortified embarrassment at their antics and unadorned adoration of the same as though she longed to join in with their capering but could not bring herself to do so out of a lingering sense of propriety. They were the early arrivals, it would be weeks yet before spring break officially began with the locals having to compete with the twenty-something newcomers to see who could pick the shelves bare the quickest.

Granted this was all great news for her boss, David Melcher, the store owner (and elder brother of Billy Melcher). If pressed she would claim that it was good news for her as well, seeing as how all those tourism dollars flowing in helped to account for a significant part of her paycheck each week, but on days like today it was easy to forget such trivial facts when weighed in the balance against the added aggravation.

Janet was a customer desk manager, and as such was responsible for essentially everything and everyone that the customers interacted with during her shift. Primarily that meant supervising the cashiers and dealing directly with any customers that had specific questions or complaints. It was a job that demanded patience and people skills. After having worked at the store for over thirteen years, experiencing the same frustrating problems day after day ad nauseum, those were two qualities that she possessed in increasingly meager supply.

Today her chief source of frustration came in the form of Angie Peebo, the cashier assigned to register #5. Her register had come up short, the second time in as many months. Janet rather liked Angie, the girl was friendly, courteous, and hard working. All that was immaterial however if the money failed to come out right. She had managed to smooth over the first incidence with Mr. Melcher, no small feat in itself. This time would necessitate an official write up, and if it happened a third time then Angie would have to go. It gave her no satisfaction, but business was business.

The past decade had not been kind to Janet. She was 52 now, and constantly felt every bit of it. If it was true that you are only as old as you feel, by her reckoning her true age was closer to 65 or more. Long gone were the days when she had conscientiously exercised every day and diligently watched her diet. She simply had neither the energy nor the incentive for such fastidiousness.

The result of this lassitude was predictable enough, she had gained weight, more than twenty pounds this past year alone. If she dared to step on a scale it would now clock in at somewhere just over 155 lbs, hardly an alarming number for most people, but her small frame was unforgiving and seemed determined to proudly display every last ounce of it for all to see.

More importantly, her weight gain, in conjunction with the stresses of her job and her incessant smoking habit, was wreaking havoc on her physical health. She had recently been diagnosed as being in the early stages of adult-onset diabetes, and though the doctor stressed otherwise, she regarded the news as tantamount to a death sentence. In the end she had been sent on her way with a long list of do's and dont's (most of which she stubbornly ignored), a few new prescriptions (including one for Valium even), and an appointment to follow up on her progress (which she had no intention of keeping).

Fortunately today was Janet's short day. She would be getting out as soon as her relief for the evening shift arrived, and on Thursdays that would be at 1 o'clock, with the following Friday and Saturday being her two off days.

She knew that she needed to do a bit of grocery shopping upon clocking out for the day. The cupboards at home were virtually empty. However as the last few minutes of her shift ticked down and the routines associated with being relieved were completed, that plan (like her exercise regimen) was sacrificed to simple expedience. She would just have to make a quick run through the drive-through window at BurgerMeister, Isabella's lone fast-food franchise.

The bright, beautiful weather hardly registered at all with her as she wearily exited the Shop N' Save and trudged across the parking lot. Her gaze never left the pavement beneath her feet throughout the long trek to her car, tempting anybody observing her to assume she was a woman deep in thought. And so she was, in a sense, but the thoughts running through her mind were entirely focused on the pain emanating from the bottoms of her feet; pain caused by long hours of