Cut of the Knife

By Faye Lagen

Devastated by divorce, Sophie irrationally believes the end of her marriage reflects a personal failure. When she is drawn into the world of Nick Bergman, she thinks shes met the Prince Charming of her dreams. Champagne, flowers, and romance obscure Nicks dark side.

Basing her decisions on emotion rather than her true values, Sophie strives to please Nick beyond all reason. Unable to say no to Nicks scheming, she is drawn deeper and deeper into his world of drugs and abuse, from which there seems to be no escape. Then, diagnosed with a brain tumor and knowing the losses surgery could bring, Sophie is finally forced to come to terms with her life in ways she could never have imagined.

Determined to put an end to her marriage as the abuse worsens, Sophie vows if she survives surgery, she will fight with every ounce of strength she has left to be free of her abuser.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781532004872

Faye Lagen

Faye Lagen, a writer and blogger, has traveled extensively throughout the United States and abroad. She has published numerous travel blogs. She, her husband, and their kitty live in the Pacific Northwest.

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Cut of the Knife

Faye Lagen

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CUT OF THE KNIFE

Copyright © 2016 Faye Lagen.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0488-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0489-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0487-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016915970

iUniverse rev. date: 10/12/2016

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Find the seed at the bottom of your heart and bring forth a flower.

Shigenori Kameoka

CHAPTER 1

THE PAPERWORK WAS FINAL. I WAS OFFICIALLY DIVORCED. FOR sixteen years I’d persevered in my ill-fated quest to salvage the relationship—just as I had clung to my mother’s leg as a child. But after his repeated infidelities, at last I relented and unhappily walked away.

No, I do not want to share him with another woman he cannot give up, nor the sprinkling of alternative dalliances he contrives in between his forays with her, I had to finally concede.

Regardless of this struggle, I still had not acknowledged much less forsaken any of my codependent flaws, nor my stubborn tenacity. And in spite of his foibles, I loved him. I still flat out loved him like no other.

This might as well be the end of my life in reality not merely on paper, I reasoned. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and felt the engine kick in as I drove south along the Interstate-75 toward my exit ramp. Here the intersecting road would lead directly to the waters of the Gulf. This is where I sought my solace.

But the wine whispered to me otherwise, It will all be over so quickly.

I pressed the gas pedal further until the speedometer reached eighty then ninety. Starting into the curve of the exit, I was startled by my speed and instinctively pressed on the brakes. The insanity of giving up my life gave way to fear. I jammed my foot hard on the brake, then turned into the curve. The car held the road and squealed to a stop at the bottom of the off ramp. The traffic signal at the intersection changed from red to green. Gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, I looked up at the light, but did not move. Watching the light ultimately turn to yellow, then red, I felt my lungs slowly release a sigh of relief, then fill again as I breathed in deeply. I flipped on my signal to turn west.

I felt totally calm when I turned into a florist shop a mile further down the road. Stepping out of the car, I walked with determination to the entry door and pulled it open.

Hearing the tinkling of a bell attached to the door, the florist looked up with a smile and offered, May I help you?

Yes, I want three roses tied with a black ribbon entwined through this wedding band. Break the stems, too, and wrap up the whole arrangement in black tissue paper.

What? she asked in surprise.

My divorce is final today. You are delivering these to Anna Parks—the other woman, I replied flatly, pushing the ring toward her over the counter. Hoping she did not detect the scent of wine on my breath, I looked directly at her and pushed down the emotion rising up in my throat. She works only a half a mile down the street at the furniture store, I added.

Oh, I see, the florist said, with a knowing smile. I will certainly be happy to arrange that for you. We can have them delivered before we close. That will be twenty dollars.

Thank you. You cannot imagine what a hard day this has been for me, I confessed, pushing the cash to cover the flowers toward her. Then I plucked my car keys from my pocket to continue my journey to the beach.

You’d be surprised my dear. I am happy to accommodate you with this, and I’ll personally deliver them. Take care of yourself, and be careful driving. He’s not worth your life—nor your license. Smiling, she patted my hand while looking directly into my eyes, as if to impart her advice deep within my brain.

Returning her smile, I turned, and walked out the door to my car. Sitting there for a moment longer, I imagined the delivery, then allowed just a hint of anger to bubble up inside of me. Turning the car key in the ignition, I pressed the anger back down into my core, and backed out of the parking space. Regaining the highway, I felt calmer, and drove slower. "At least I did something, I reasoned. At least I did something."

The beach was quiet. I realized most people would be home at this hour, having dinner or watching the evening news. Noticing the long shadows of the Australian pines slithering across the parking lot from the setting sun, I pressed my bare feet into sugar-white sand, and crossed over to the water. As the sea birds and I followed the edge of the shore together, they did not seem to mind my presence. Instead, they walked ahead of me or behind, driving their beaks into the wet sand for one more morsel of food offered up by the sea before darkness could overtake us.

The wet sand pushed between my toes and the sea air grasped at tears that now trickled down my cheeks. Another beach walker came toward me from the opposite direction and paused. A casual passing greeting stopped on his lips before it was even uttered, replaced with a frown of concern. Are you alright, miss? the young man asked.

Surprised to hear the sound of his voice, rather than the silent passing nod I had expected, I climbed out of my thoughts and looked directly into his concerned eyes. I had been oblivious to the tears streaming down my face. I wiped them away with my hand, feeling my puffy eyes in the process. I’m going to be fine, I replied. I got divorced today. That fact is just sinking in. But thanks for asking. Nodding and waving a little dismissal, I forced myself to smile at him as we both resumed our journeys in opposite directions.

Ahead of me, the evening fishermen lined the seawall of the inlet preparing for a catch on the outgoing tide. Silent like me, they were only focused on their unseen prey. The sunset reflected across the water beyond them in shades of red and purple as the clouds turned to gray in the receding sunlight. Lights began to glow in the condominiums across the inlet and the light beam from a nearby lighthouse swung wide above our heads as darkness revealed its beacon. For years it had swept across this unchanging water, watching the souls who came here for sport or solace. I loved this beach and clung to the comfort I found here, that no other place could offer.

Reaching the inlet, I climbed onto the rocks and watched the tide below me pull water out to the sea in swirls. My mother’s ashes had ridden on a similar tide hundreds of miles away; I regretted that I had not brought another flower from the florist in memory of her. I felt a connection to the ocean, and thus to her, whenever and wherever, I walked on a seashore. But on this night, I felt utterly forsaken.

I would begin again, even though the fear of being forty-two and alone for the first time in my life pressed upon me. I wasn’t sure how to begin. But I was alive and not mangled in the wreckage of a car that would have symbolized the life I perceived was now mine. Looking up at the night sky, I could see the slightest seed of hope blinking back at me from the stars revealed in the darkening sky.

Nothing could be worse than this, but I will survive, I promised myself.

At that moment, I could not begin to fathom that my definition of ‘worse’ was only in its infancy.

It is those who persist in hoping for a Prince Charming who are setting themselves up for disillusionment and unhappiness.

Susan Faludi

CHAPTER 2

W HY DON’T WE GO DOWN TO CRYSTAL BEACH AND DANCE? Claudia asked as she adjusted her sparkling faux diamond watch on her wrist.

We could, I agreed, but aren’t you hungry? Shouldn’t we get something to eat first?

Okay, I’ll call Sybil and Cheri and tell them we’ll all meet at Cajun’s Fish House. Besides, then we can drive down in one car to dance if we all meet up at Cajun’s first. She turned her impish dark green eyes toward me and tilting her brunette head slightly, she joked, Then we’ll only need one designated driver, too.

She started the Jaguar and the car phone chirped to life with its greenish number pad glowing in the dark between us. Claudia deftly pushed numbers on the phone with one hand and lifted it to her ear, as she turned the steering wheel with the other.

Hi Cheri! Sophie and I have decided we should meet up at Cajun’s Fish House and eat first. Then we can go down to Crystal Beach in one car. Is that okay with both of you?

There was a pause as the unintelligible reply came back through the phone pressed against Claudia’s ear. See you there in ten minutes, she said with a smile, depositing the phone back into its cradle and pushing the disconnect button.

Swinging out of my driveway, she pulled onto the highway heading north toward town. I settled back enjoying the leather scent of the tawny seats. Over the two years following my divorce, my friendship with Claudia had been a godsend. The fear of being over forty and single had receded to a manageable level in the intervening months. The sting of being abandoned by my former married friends had finally worn off. Now, I found myself enjoying the company of my new French Canadian girlfriends.

We pulled into the crowded parking lot of the restaurant built on the edge of Siesta Bay and positioned the car in a parking space as close to the door as the crowded Friday-night parking lot permitted. In the breeze, I could hear the tinkling of rigging from sailboats moored at the docks behind the restaurant, as the beam from the lighthouse passed over us from the inlet to the west. It was a balmy night and the festive sparkling lights at the entrance to the restaurant welcomed us into the busy bar that wrapped around the side of the building leading to a deck by the docks.

Why don’t we grab a table in the bar? We’ll never get a table in the restaurant with this crowd, Claudia suggested. That way we can grab Cheri and Sybil as they come in the door. Gee, look at all the guys at the bar. Why have we missed this place before? she continued, glancing along the bar and flirting with the men seated there. They were not oblivious to our entrance either, turning to smile in the direction of our table as we settled into wicker chairs.

I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, I told the waitress who was quick to engage us.

And I’ll have a house champagne, added Claudia. By the way, there will be two more joining us. Can we have menus, please? We’d like to grab a bite of dinner in the bar, if that’s okay?

Sure. I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment and bring the menus, she replied heading toward the bar.

You know this is a nice place, Claudia. And it’s not too far from my house. Maybe we should come here more often. Ah, here come Cheri and Sybil, I remarked grinning and rising to meet them with a wave.

The men at the bar did not miss their entrance either, as the two women kissed both of us on each cheek in greeting.

Bonjour! Claudia exclaimed, raising her hand as if it held a glass.

We settled into our chairs as the new arrivals surveyed the surroundings. Good choice, approved Cheri as the waitress returned with our glasses and the menus.

Good evening ladies. What can I bring you? our waitress queried. Here are some menus. We have a great dinner special tonight. It’s stone crab claws with hot drawn butter, and they are delicious. Or how about an appetizer while you are waiting? the waitress suggested.

Chardonnay, Chardonnay, Cheri and Sybil chirped together.

Let’s check out the menus first while we wait for your drinks before we decide, I interjected. For some reason, I am really hungry!

Fantastic, agreed Claudia, as she deftly changed the subject to the men at the bar. And now ladies, check out the bar. Is this a nice view or what?

One in the group of three men at the bar grinned in our direction and said something to his companions. The other two shook their heads in agreement.

Indeed, this is turning out to be a fun evening already, I thought to myself.

The waitress returned with two more glasses of Chardonnay and we all clicked our glasses together in a toast, as she began taking our order. Then leaving us to our drinks and chatter, she greeted another couple entering the bar.

They waved to a man rising to greet them. Watching him for a moment, it struck me that he had an almost model-like appearance with his tall, thin build and dark brown hair emphasized by a black sport coat. I had not noticed him previously, as we flirted with the three men sitting beyond him. Shaking hands with the couple stepping toward him, they all turned to follow the maître d’ into the restaurant. Passing by our table, the single gentleman paused behind my chair.

Excuse me ladies, he said acknowledging all of us. Then, touching my arm, he turned his head to look directly into my eyes and continued with a smile, I just wanted you to have this. Then he placed a folded napkin on the table in front of me. In the time it took for me to realize what he had done, they continued on to the dining room, while the silent group around my table stared at the napkin.

Well, what is it? asked Claudia. Where did he come from? I didn’t notice him at the bar when we came in.

Neither did I, I replied, unfolding the cocktail napkin. But he sure wasn’t hard on the eyes. Inside was a message handwritten across the paper in blue ink:

I think you have beautiful eyes and I just wanted you to know, I read out loud to my companions.

Wow! What are you going to do? asked Sybil.

I don’t know, I responded. What should I do?

Well, you could just walk over there and thank him, suggested Cheri with a smile.

No, that would interrupt them. He’s with another couple. Besides, that’s a little bold isn’t it? I queried, refolding the napkin and slipping it down into my purse.

When was the last time you had a come-on like that from such a cute guy? asked Claudia. After all you’ve been through the last two years, I’d think you would be out of that chair already!

Yes, I know Claudia. I have a better idea. I stood, and walked to the bar. The bartender approached me with a smile.

What will you have?

Do you remember the gentleman in the black sport coat who was sitting here just now? Would you send a glass of whatever he was drinking over to his table? I requested, sliding a ten-dollar bill across the bar toward him.

Certainly, he agreed.

Would you put this with it, too? I scribbled a note onto a napkin saying, And you deserve the same compliment. The message seemed trite, but it was all I could imagine in the moments since I had looked into his eyes.

Returning to the table I saw the looks of approval emanating from the faces of my companions. Shortly thereafter, we heard laughter arise from a table beyond our vision in the dining room. Moments later, he was again by my side.

Thank you, he grinned at me. Call me sometime. Maybe we can have lunch. I took the business card he held out to me. I don’t want to interrupt you, and your friends, he demurred. Then he was gone. Nick. Realtor.

Knowing glances were exchanged between my friends, while I struggled to hide the blush on my cheeks.

Well, well, pronounced Claudia. Who would have thought this would turn out to be such a great place to meet men? Cheers, ladies! She tipped her glass to her lips, then smiled at the men at the bar, to their approval.

When our meals arrived, we turned our attention to an equally attractive presentation of seafood. The breeze from the deck carried in the scent of night-blooming jasmine, as the sound of swaying palm fronds joined in with the chiming of blowing rigging on the sailboats.

Maybe I will call him sometime, I thought lifting a shrimp to my lips. Maybe I will. Was this at last my Prince Charming?

CHAPTER 3

I HESITANTLY DIALED THE PHONE NUMBER ON THE CARD. I KNEW he did not have my phone number, or even my name. But, intrigued by our chance meeting, I was curious. What is this man all about? Enough time had passed following my painful divorce. Now, I was hopeful of finding another person to share my life. However, after two recent failed attempts at dating, as desperate as I felt about having another half to make me feel whole again, parties and bars did not seem to be the answer.

A receptionist rattled off the name of the real estate office, and I asked for Nick. I’m sorry. He’s currently out of the office. May I have him return your call? she requested.

Sure, I agreed, and gave her my work number. Unlike Claudia, I had no phone in my car. That was a novelty I had yet to explore. The home number could wait. I felt cautious about meeting a stranger, especially one who appeared to be my own age. My older, former husband had felt comfortable as a companion. Feeling secure with his established position as a CPA in town, I had devoted myself to that relationship easily, in spite of his reputation of being a player. At fifteen years his junior, I had wrongly convinced myself that my age would more than control his wandering eye.

There, the ball is in your court, I thought with relief as I hung up the phone. Returning to the work strewn across my desk, I pushed aside the question of whether I would get a return call. Calling men was still out of my comfort zone even if this was the nineties; clinging to my mother’s old social rules was another trait I felt more comfortable with. I would not call again.

When the call came in a few hours later, I picked up the receiver with a smile of relief. Hello, I’m glad you called, the smooth voice on the other end began. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from you. Plus, I knew I had no way to find you otherwise, except for maybe another chance encounter at Cajun’s Fish House!

Well, I don’t usually go there, so that might have been difficult, I responded.

I don’t either, but my clients and I were celebrating their new home purchase so it seemed appropriate to go someplace close to my office. They are moving into a home across Siesta Bay on Strand Key. Have you ever been through ‘The Village’ there?

No, not really. I’ve only been to the public park on the north side of the inlet.

Okay. Well, I grew up in there, so it’s home territory to me. That’s where I conduct a lot of my real estate business.

Nice, I commented fidgeting with a pencil on my desk. He seemed to want to carry on a conversation forever, as if neither one of us were at work.

I could show you around there some time. It’s an actual town of about a hundred homes on the north end. It even has its own police force and mayor.

That sounds interesting. I’ve never driven in there because it looked like a private entry with a security guard.

I know. They make it look like that on purpose, but the roads in there are actually public streets.

Well, I’ll take you up on giving me a tour sometime.

Great. Can we get together for a drink and dinner? How about Friday after work, if you are not doing something already? I could bring my boat and we could go for a cruise afterward if you’d like.

Whoa! A drink sounds nice, but I’ll have to get to know you better before I’d go out on a boat.

Okay, okay, no problem. But I’ll come in the boat anyway. Bring some boat shoes in case you change your mind. I’m not a stalker, by the way, he ended with a laugh.

I’m sure you’re not, I replied covering my cautionary stance with a laugh of my own. What time were you thinking?

Oh, how about 6 p.m.? Where will you be coming from?

Up from Crystal Beach. My office is downtown.

Well, let’s meet halfway. How about that restaurant that is right on the water on Magnolia Boulevard? Do you know Boater’s Haven on the south side of the bridge?

Sure. That sounds fine. Friday night at 6 p.m. it is. See you there.

Great! And don’t forget your boat shoes, he joked with another laugh. Bye!

Bye!

As I hung up the phone, I studied his name on the card for