Raven Ridge

By Bruce Collier

When twenty-year-old Cindy finds her boyfriend, Jeremy, in bed with her best friend, she vows to never see him again.

Cindy knows she will no longer be allowed to live with her religious-fanatic parents when they discover she’s pregnant. 

While visiting her aunt and uncle in North Carolina, she confides in one of their fri

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Aug 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643457321

Bruce Collier

Bruce was born in Fort Myers, Florida, but spent a consider amount of time in the cities mentioned in his story. He now lives in St. James, City, on Pine Island, off the coast of Fort Myers. The story is fiction, but knowing how Bruce cherishes his heritage, it's easy to understand why he chose to include some of his grandfather's experiences.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cindy tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, pressed the accelerator, and passed the car ahead.

Slow down, Cindy! as if saying it out loud would make her more aware of her speed. The last thing you need is a ticket, especially while driving Mom’s car.

The desire to be with Jeremy and the excitement of doing something completely out of character was influencing her driving.

The thought of having an accident while wearing only a T-shirt and jeans flashed through her mind. She enjoyed not wearing underwear and often didn’t, but there had never been a time when she was more aware of not having any on. A small smile replaced her concern when she thought how the reason outweighed the risk.

She preferred not to borrow her mother’s car and seldom did. Even though she had never given her mother a reason, her mother was always reluctant to let her use it. So to keep from having to endure a battery of questions about where she was going, she would tell her mother she was going shopping with some friends from church. She had learned that whatever she wished to do was justified if church or church members were involved.

Being twenty and still living with her parents was a stressful situation. Her plan was to move out of her folks’ home when she had enough money saved for an apartment and the down payment on a car, and thanks to her job at Disney World, she only had about two more months. The thought of moving and not having to depend on her parents was always on her mind. But knowing how they treated her sisters, she felt certain they would not make it easy.

It would be nice, she thought, if they congratulate me for saving the money for an apartment and being brave enough to strike out on my own, but that’s not their style. They will no doubt humiliate me by saying something like, You’ll never make it alone, and it won’t be long before you’ll be crawling back. I look forward to the day I move but not to the day I tell them.

There were several times after graduating when she could have moved in with friends, but her mother had pleaded with her to stay. Her mother was afraid that once she left, her father would not allow her to return, not even to visit, the same as he did her sisters. Even though her mother had sympathized with her sisters, there was never a time she disagreed with their father; she knew better. The many years of mental and physical abuse had taken its toll.

When Cindy’s sisters began expressing their opinion and resisting their father and mother’s continuous bombardment of religious lectures, they were forced to leave. Fortunately, one of their friend’s family took them in.

Cindy had sympathized and grieved for her sisters as they struggled to keep up with their homework while working to pay room and board. Her parents didn’t even attend their graduation ceremonies.

Being alone with her parents was much more difficult than when her sisters were home. Now her parents concentrated all their efforts on making sure that she did not deviate from their teachings and go astray. It required a lot of patience to listen to their prejudiced remarks and thoughts without commenting, but after seeing how difficult leaving had been for her sisters, she had convinced herself to stay until she could afford to move.

Both sisters married soon after graduating. Cindy always wondered if their marriages were more for convenience than love. She was determined to wait for love.

*   *   *

For the last three years, Jeremy had shared an apartment with his best friend; his independence was probably one of the reasons Cindy became attracted to him. They dated for three months before she became comfortable enough to have sex. She gave in to his desires only after she felt his comments and feelings were sincere. In the last two weeks, she had been with him three times.

Cindy worked with Jeremy’s roommate, and earlier that day, he mentioned he had to work late. After discovering that Jeremy would be home alone, she concocted the idea to drive over to his apartment and surprise him. Since she didn’t own a car, he wouldn’t be expecting her. The original plan was for Jeremy to pick her up later that night.

She had worried all afternoon about what he would think and had struggled with whether she should or should not do what she was doing. When she finally convinced herself to go with her desires, she became so tense that by the time she showered and dressed, she could barely apply her makeup.

Even though the night was cool, she began to feel warm, which enhanced the scent of her favorite soap rising from beneath her thin loose-fitting T-shirt. She took a deep breath and savored the fresh clean smell coming from her eager body. Her short hair was still a little damp from her shower; thinking it would be dry by the time she arrived, she didn’t dry it completely.

The closer she got to Jeremy’s apartment, the more nervous she became. Her mouth was dry, so dry she could hardly swallow. The flavor of toothpaste was still strong; she wished she had rinsed three times instead of her normal two.

A surge of desire rushed through her when she realized how close she was to Jeremy’s apartment. She took a few deep breaths, gripped the steering wheel, and stiffened her arms. Knowing she would soon be with Jeremy had her body tingling with anticipation. The feeling was more than anticipation—it was lust, a lust like no other she had ever experienced.

Maybe I would’ve enjoyed the three times we had sex if I’d had the same feelings I have tonight. Tonight is going to be great!

She parked in Jeremy’s roommate’s parking place; she knew he wouldn’t be coming home.

*   *   *

She raised her hand to knock, then paused. What if he’s not here? She looked back toward Jeremy’s parking place. He’s here. She knocked. No answer. Should I be doing this? She knocked again. Still no answer. He must be taking a shower. She tried the knob; it turned. She slowly opened the door, then quietly closed and locked it. The room was dark except for a faint sliver of light coming from his partially closed bedroom door. He must be in the shower. She listened, but there was no sound. Maybe he’s drying off. Or better yet, taking a nap. If so, I’ll quietly ease in beside him.

Guided by the light, she tiptoed toward his bedroom. She thought of the light as a beacon, directing her to him. It was impossible, she thought, for her heart to pound any harder than it had earlier, but it was.

She heard a faint sound, like a groan. She stopped and listened. Oh no! He’s waking. Being as quiet as possible, she continued toward the magnetic light. She stood at the door for a moment, took a deep breath, then slowly pushed it open.

Instantly, her left hand covered her mouth, while at the same time, her right hand rushed to comfort her stomach. She was stunned, almost to the point of passing out. She could not believe what she was seeing. They didn’t see her; they were too involved to realize she was staring at their naked bodies.

She eased back to the security of the dark living room. Her legs were like rubber and close to buckling. For support, she leaned against the wall. The nerves and muscles in her throat were tightening; she could hardly breathe and was shaking from head to toe. She felt sick.

She turned to leave. No! He has to know I saw him! And I have to know who he’s with. She returned to the door, walked in, and stood beside the bed. They had no idea she was there.

You bastard! she screamed.

The shock and disbelief his face expressed as he scrambled to find the bedspread would forever be etched in her memory. The girl glanced at her, then quickly turned her head and hid beneath the spread. Even though Cindy was allowed only a brief glimpse, she recognized her.

Cheryl! I can’t believe this! You hypocritical bitch!

Without saying another word, she walked out.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not, she repeated as she hurried to her mother’s car.

Before starting the engine and while trying to gain control of her emotions, she stared at the entrance of the huge apartment complex. She slowly turned the key; the engine started, but she didn’t back out. She just sat and waited. It wasn’t long before she spotted Jeremy in the main entrance, dressed only in a pair of pants and no shoes.

When he recognized her mother’s car, he began walking toward her. She waited until he was only a few feet away, then backed out, leaving him standing barefoot on the cold sidewalk.

In her dazed condition and without knowing where to go or what to do, she pointed the car in the direction of home. It was as if the car knew the way.

What a difference a few minutes can make. It’s hard to imagine how quick the joy and lust I felt have changed to hurt and hate. I even thought I could be falling in love; what a mistake that would’ve been. Oh, how I wish I’d never gone to bed with him. I wanted so much to be with someone who truly cared for me. I thought he did, but I can see now he’s nothing but a golden-tongued con artist. As gullible as I’ve been, he probably thinks he can tell me that nothing was happening and I’ll believe him. I can hear him now: Who are you going to believe: me or your lying eyes?

And Cheryl. My best friend. She’s the last person I’d suspect of going to bed with him or, for that matter, with anyone. I can’t believe someone as active in church activities as Cheryl could possibly do that to her best friend. She is the only one I trusted enough to tell that Jeremy and I were having sex. I wonder if she was with him before I told her? I hope this was their first time and I got to screw it up.

The image of seeing Jeremy and Cheryl’s naked bodies, watching him struggling to cover them when she screamed, You bastard, the startled look on Cheryl’s face, then watching her try to hide, was like a video playing, rewinding, and playing again, over and over.

That bastard! she shouted. He planned to be with me after Cheryl. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. That bastard!

Instead of turning around when she noticed she had missed her street, she chose to continue driving. Not counting the humiliation she had suffered, there were many other problems to deal with and hopefully solve. She wondered how she would feel in church, the same church Jeremy and Cheryl attend. And how was she going to deal with watching her parents embrace him while at the same time criticize her for refusing to see him?

Jeremy was a dedicated churchgoer, which was the reason her parents had encouraged her to date him. But now, she realized his religion was only superficial, just another tool to deceive and con his friends and lovers. He’s no better than my father.

Then there’s Cheryl, with all her fake charm. It won’t be easy to watch her sing in the choir, then listen to the solo number she does each Sunday.

Oh yeah, she said sarcastically. I’m really looking forward to that.

I’ll just stop going to church. Whoooa—back! What am I thinking? I’m not the one who did something wrong and should feel guilty. They are. I’ll just march my little ass right in that church this Sunday and, while talking to the congregation, act as if nothing has happened. That ought to make them nervous. I won’t tell anyone what happened, but they’ll think that’s what I’m doing. Yes! I have a plan, and for the first time since, I can’t remember I’m looking forward to Sunday.

I should be pleased that I found out what a lying cheat he is and Cheryl can’t be trusted, but I’m not. I really wish it had never happened, but it did, and now all I can do is make the best of it. I’m so thankful I was no more involved than I was. The situation tonight was bad, but if I had been in love with him? I hate to think of the hurt.

After several miles of driving and thinking, she began to feel a little better and headed home.

Now what am I going to tell my parents? I’ll tell them I just don’t want to date him or anyone else for a while. I’m sure they’ll try to convince me that I’m making a big mistake by letting a nice fellow like him get away. But I’ll be stubborn and stick to my story. Because I’ll be going against their wishes, living with them will be even more difficult. I have to do something and do it soon.

A sick feeling flowed through her as she pulled into the driveway and saw her father’s truck.

Oh no! They’re home. They were supposed to stay out late tonight. Now I have to listen to their crap.

Before going in, she slipped on her light jacket; she didn’t want her parents to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

*   *   *

Cindy didn’t have to worry about seeing Jeremy in church; he stopped going. She figured he believed she had told everyone in the congregation about seeing him and Cheryl together and thinking that his image was damaged would be more than his ego could handle.

Cheryl, however, never missed a Sunday of do-gooding. After singing in the choir and doing her solo, she would put on her large fake smile, then, like a butterfly, flit around from person to person. She would tell them how fantastic they look, ask about their families, kiss their babies, or do whatever it took to impress them. After seeing her with Jeremy and then evaluating her actions in church, Cindy came to the conclusion that Cheryl was nothing but a manipulating bitch, even more deceiving and phony than Jeremy.

Occasionally, while doing her flitting, Cheryl would accidentally get close to Cindy. She tried to avoid making eye contact, but when she did, Cindy always smiled that I saw your ass kind of smile. Cheryl’s bubbly personality would quickly change to panic. Her teeth-showing large smile became small and insecure, and her face turned red and splotchy. But as soon as she began talking with someone, her fake smile and phony charm returned. Cindy watched in disbelief as the people bought her act.

Chapter 2

James Duffy, or Duffy as most knew him by, was on the back deck of his home on Longboat Key, relaxing in his favorite lounge chair, sipping a drink mixed with gin and a touch of grapefruit juice. He always added just enough juice to qualify it as a mixed drink. It was a warm clear day, bordering on being hot, a typical winter day in Florida.

While sipping his drink, he looked down about ten feet to his pool and through the crystal-clear water to the automatic pool cleaner moving along the bottom, flipping its tail from side to side. It never stopped and eventually covered every inch of the pool, bottom and sides. It reminded him of a stingray cruising along, looking for something to eat or, in this case, something to clean. Its actions were almost hypnotic; he never tired of watching it.

A sudden gust of wind switched his attention from the gizmo in the pool to the wind chimes hanging from the ceiling of his deck, close to the edge. They were all different, each with its own special sound. The atmosphere of the evening was enhanced by the comforting sound of leaves rustling as the gentle breeze blew through the palm trees and the large leaves of the banana plants. The songbirds contributed to the relaxing sounds, and the seagulls added their unique cry as they circled overhead, searching for food.

He looked out over the pool toward the boats tied to his dock and thought about what he owned: an attractive home on a deep canal with a large pool, a 38-foot sailboat and a 20-foot fishing boat, a Porsche and an SUV in the garage, and money in the bank.

I’ve come a long way from where I started.

Earlier in the week, a relative made a comment that troubled him. God has been good to you, and you’re a lucky man. It was difficult for him to believe that someone who knew him would have said that.

He must’ve had his head in the sand or some place less desirable. Maybe he thought that since I’ve passed all the hardship tests and jumped or climbed all the hurdles I’ve been given, God would be kind and provide me with a little luck. It’s time to fix another drink.

Duffy was fifty-five and had been retired for five restless years. He had always looked forward to being financially secure enough to have the things he had. But after acquiring them, he discovered that instead of enjoying his toys, he was spending most of his time maintaining them.

That afternoon while washing his boats, he thought how much better it would have been if he instead of the seagulls had gotten them dirty. Now the pool needed to be cleaned, the cars washed, and the yard mowed. At first, he enjoyed those chores, but for the last few years, he dreaded even thinking about them. He never thought of hiring someone; maybe the reason was because most of his life, he had struggled just to make a living and was forced to do for himself. Also, earlier in life, he had fewer toys and his sons were there to help.

It was getting dark, and the night sounds were starting. Not pleasant sounds like birds or insects, but the annoying sounds of people. The neighbors to his right were having a very prudish party and playing their classical music way too loud. The neighbor to his left was nearly deaf, so his TV was blaring. Across the canal, to the right, a man and woman were fighting, and to the left, a hippie who had moved in with his elderly grandmother was playing some kind of god-awful music.

This is too much! What I need is a vacation. A quiet place, with no traffic, and the weather isn’t as hot. Where would that be?

As he looked at his empty glass, he remembered his friends, Ray and Joyce Miller. They had called a few weeks earlier and asked him to come visit them at their new home in the mountains of North Carolina.

I’ll call them in the morning.

The sounds became unbearable. He had two choices: fix another drink or go inside and watch TV. He decided to do both.

*   *   *

Duffy didn’t like to think of himself as retired. He preferred to say he just stopped working so he wouldn’t have to get up early. But the next morning and for some unknown reason, he found himself wide awake at six o’clock; he normally slept until seven or seven-thirty. While holding his coffee in one hand, he opened the sliding door to the deck with the other. As he stepped out of the air-conditioned house and into the warm morning air, he sensed it was going to be another hot day. He wanted to call Ray and Joyce but felt it was too early. He would wait until eight.

The sun was just coming up as Duffy took a seat to watch his favorite bird perform. There was this particular mockingbird that always perched on the same dock piling; it was his special piling. He used it for singing and dancing and a place to watch for bugs. He would sing every imaginable birdsong, one after the other, then while singing his own special song and always the same, he would fly up about three feet, do a little dance maneuver, land back on the piling, and do it all without missing a note. Occasionally, he would swoop down, pluck a bug from the grass, return to his piling, eat the bug, then continue singing. Duffy never tired of watching his friend perform.

What a morning, he said out loud. If it could only stay like this all day.

While sipping his coffee, he watched his neighbors’ activities. Some were preparing their boats so they would be first to arrive at their favorite fishing hole; others were packing their cars, hoping to beat the traffic.

Then he remembered it was Saturday. The cars would be slowed to a crawl and the waterways crowded. The jet-skiers would soon be making a nuisance of themselves by jumping boat wakes or anything else they could do to annoy boaters and swimmers. They reminded him of pesky flies, always annoying you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. He called them water flies.

Suddenly, a blaring TV filled the air; his hard-of-hearing neighbor was awake. Conditions had changed; he could no longer enjoy the sounds of the morning. He became restless and chose to have his second cup of coffee inside where it was quiet and peaceful. He looked at his watch. It was not quite eight but close enough.

*   *   *

Joyce answered the phone. We just got up and it’s a little cool, so Ray is building a fire in the fireplace and I’m fixing breakfast. When are you coming up for a visit?

Will tomorrow be too soon?

Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll have your room ready.

Don’t go to any trouble. I don’t want to impose on you. I’ll get a room at the nearest motel. He had never felt comfortable staying in the home of a friend or even a relative.

We’ll decide that when you get here. Ray wants to talk with you.

Ray gave him directions, then mentioned that it was still cool and suggested he pack plenty of warm clothes.

How many hours will it take to drive there?

About ten or eleven, depending on the traffic through Atlanta.

What can I bring?

Nothing. We’ll just be glad to see you.

I’ll leave here about seven in the morning. I should arrive there between five and six.

Sounds good. Drive carefully, and we’ll see you tomorrow.

*   *   *

What can I take to my friends? He could not imagine arriving without something. Then he remembered how much they enjoyed fresh seafood and they were a long way from the sea. That’s what I’ll take.

*   *   *

A fishing boat was being unloaded as he arrived at the docks of his favorite seafood market. He went on board and picked out a good-looking grouper. You can’t get fresher than this. They cleaned it for him. He also bought five pounds of fresh extra-large shrimp. They packed ice around the fish and shrimp in his large ice chest, enough ice to keep them cold for a week. They knew Duffy and treated him right.

*   *   *

He checked to make sure the clothes he needed were clean and washed those that were not. He chose to drive his SUV. It would handle the gravel roads better than the Porsche and be better in the snow, if it snowed. Rushing was not something he enjoyed but knew he would have to hurry if he was going to be ready by morning. By the time he finished packing, washing and cleaning the SUV, checking the pool, and making sure the boats were secure, it was getting dark, but he was ready.

Chapter 3

Ray and Joyce watched as Duffy drove up their drive. His call the day before had been a pleasant surprise and generated some excitement in what would normally be a boring winter day. It had been over a year since they last saw their friend and they were anxious. They had never really been close to Duffy but closer than most people who knew him. They realized he was not one to attend parties or socialize much; they understood when he refused their invitations. They shared one of those special friendships. The kind that starts in school and continues through life, the kind you can go for months or even years without communicating and when you do, no one asks, Why?

*   *   *

Duffy saw them standing and waving from their front porch. He looked at the clock on the dash: 5:30. He had made good time. Ray and Joyce left the porch and were standing by his car when it came to a stop. Ray anxiously opened Duffy’s door.

After shaking Ray’s hand, hugging Joyce, and saying the normal greetings, he noticed how refreshing the air felt, cold and brisk, just like he liked it. A jacket will feel good. As he opened the back door to get one, Ray reached in for his suitcase. Duffy was still uneasy about staying with them.

Please don’t take that. I’ll stay at a motel. I don’t want to inconvenience or impose on you.

Almost together, they said, You are not staying at a motel! We have plenty of room.

We have a lot to talk about, Joyce added, and we can’t talk if you’re not here.

Ray took the suitcase and some other clothes while Duffy took in the ice chest.

What’s in the ice chest? Joyce asked.

Grouper and shrimp. I thought you might like some fresh seafood.

Joyce began clapping her hands as if she were a little girl and saying, Goodie, goodie, goodie.

It was obvious that Ray was just as pleased. Fresh seafood is the one thing we miss the most. Thank you! Thank you!

Duffy suggested they freeze the shrimp for later and cook the fish for dinner.

Let’s cook the fish tomorrow night, Joyce said. I’ve already cooked a ham pie.

A what!

A ham pie, it’s one of my family’s favorite meals. If you had arrived late, it’s something I could’ve reheated and it would still be good. I think you’ll like it.

I’m sure I will. Where’s the nearest liquor store?

They laughed, and Ray said, It’s not bad, it just sounds bad. Actually, it’s pretty good. But we probably will need to make a trip to the liquor store. We’ll do that later.

Ray carried the suitcase into a bedroom. This is your room and this is your bathroom. Our bedroom and bathroom are upstairs.

Duffy joined Ray in the room, and without being obvious, he checked it out. Not bad. My own private room and bath. I can do this.

As they returned to the kitchen area, Ray asked, What do you drink?

When the weather is cool, like it is here, I like whiskey or bourbon over ice. When it’s hot, I like gin and a splash of grapefruit juice. But I can drink almost anything.

As Ray was looking in a kitchen cabinet, Joyce looked curiously at Duffy. What’s a splash?

It was obvious to Duffy that Joyce had not frequented many bars. A splash is a term used in bars. It means a very small amount.

We have whiskey and we have vodka, Ray said as he put two bottles on the counter. We drink vodka and there’s plenty of both, so let’s have a drink before dinner.

*   *   *

The ham pie was delicious. After dinner, Joyce suggested they finish their coffee in the living room. Ray offered Duffy the lounge chair, but knowing it would be Ray’s favorite, Duffy said