Passages is a collection of short stories loosely based on the theme: When one door closes, another opens. What door opens for which person makes all the difference.
I write the Mackenzie Wilder/Classic Boat mystery series. The protagonist is Dr. Mackenzie Wilder, a widowed small-town physician with a passion for old boats and a knack for fixing both boats and her patients.
The following story (presented in eight installments) is about Mackenzie’s cousin, Lara, who feels she has been unfairly compared to Mackenzie (Mackie) her whole life.
Installment 2
Love’s Door
Seething, Lara drove home, her brain erratically jumping from one damning chaotic thought to another. Mutterings about how she should have caught on to things sooner—how she didn’t deserve this, how she’d invested all of herself in Rodger. Thoughts that led to several poundings of the steering wheel, finished by a leap ahead to how her mother was going to take it when she broke off with Rodger. Because it was going to be the sort of horror show Bev did her best to avoid.
***
Lara squeezed her pillow tight. The dog-shaped pillow Chieftain had slept with every night once he came home to her. No one else had ever used that pillow. It was theirs and theirs alone, untouched even by the friends she chose to invite to her childhood sleepovers. When he finally passed away at the age of eleven, she’d washed it just once—at Bev’s insistence—then kept it, not wanting to obliterate Chieftain’s wonderful golden retriever smell. When she felt beset by trouble, she wrapped her arms around it and held on as if someone were trying to wrest it away. Gradually it would bring back the reassurance and peace of mind Chieftain always brought her, and she’d return it to its rightful place on her bed with a grateful pat. Once Rodger came into her life, she hadn’t needed to hold onto the Chieftain pillow. Rodger had provided her security.
Only three months ago, one night, he’d held her fast, nuzzling her ear. “I can’t believe I found you. Are you even real?” He pulled away and searched her face, her eyes, the crown of her dark blond hair. “You’re smart, you’re sexy. You’re beautiful. And you’re talented; I don’t know anyone else who writes. And you’re good at it. We can do whatever we want with our lives. Do you realize that?”
She snuggled tighter against him, then they kissed, long and hard. Her lips bruised in remembering.
“Say, do you like to travel?” he asked suddenly. “I’d love to take you to Greece.”
“That sounds fantastic, but why Greece?”
“The food, the culture, the usual. But more because of the people. They appreciate beauty over there. Look at all the statuary, the temples.” He paused to turn her face toward his, his voice growing husky. “I want the people of Greece who so appreciate classic beauty of soul and form, to look upon the woman I love and see what real beauty is.”
She sighed. Sappy, but words to make a woman feel cherished. For the second time in her life, Lara breathed easily, her world didn’t churn around her, and she felt competent, strong, happy at last.
Exactly how on Earth did things move from that moment to this?
Lara rubbed her cheek against the pillow and considered exactly what Rodger meant to her, and why.
Could she live without him?
No! her heart screamed.
Probably, retorted her sarcasm-laced brain. You don’t simply drop dead because you stop loving someone, you know.
But he cheated on me! Her throat ached at each staccato word as if she’d uttered them aloud with a wrench of guttural force.
And—?
‘And?’ What else do you want?
And—what are you going to do about it?
He’ll come back to me. When he’s done with her.
You’d let him get away with it? That’s no answer!
I didn’t say that! But – She wavered. She still wanted him so much. If he apologized, if she could be sure he’d never do it again… She could almost picture the scene – but somehow, the role of Rodger went unfilled.
Lara skimmed tears from her face. What was she going to do?
Verify his infidelity, for one thing.
Only fair; but it wasn’t at all about fairness. It was a frenzied grab at the remote possibility he wasn’t actually being unfaithful. The chance her gut was wrong this time. The chance that, like Chieftain, he’d come back to her because, emotionally, he never left.
And if you find out the affair is real??
I—I can’t live like that. I won’t. Not after all he said, all he promised. I’m the one! I am supposed to be the only one…and with that she broke down in sobs.
At last, spent with the exhaustion of so many tears, she dried her face. She should have known sooner that she couldn’t trust Camille. Probably stemmed from the last vestige of naivete she carried around. No more. Never. If, if Rodger had indeed cheated on her, there was going to be a Pay On Demand notice delivered to his door by her personally.
She turned in early that evening, although she didn’t sleep. She was supposed to see Rodger the next day; one of their weekly outings. She’d have to cancel. She wanted to confront him, maybe even catch him and Camille in the act of infidelity, but the prospect was sickening.
It might be better, Lara thought, to hire someone to follow him. Let some sleazy detective do the dirty work and collect his report. It didn’t have to be done to the letter of the law; she wasn’t taking anyone to court. Lost in thought over the matter, Lara ran her fingertips along her collarbone, then winced at how it reminded her of Rodger’s touch. She’d have to break herself of that particular habit.
She needed to call that investigator tomorrow.
***
She looked up local private investigators on the Internet and chose the first one who agreed to meet her that day at a local fast food place. A thin man, nonetheless well-muscled, and exuding a quiet air of competence, Lara thought. Good. She needed someone sharp for this. She set down the fancy coffee she’d got from the ‘café’ counter and folded her hands over her tray with its bright red and yellow letters and seductive food ads.
“Now, Mr. Koadh, you said you can take my little assignment? How much do you charge?”
The blond man consulted a small notebook. “Normally I take a retainer, but from what you’re telling me, this job won’t take long. This will mean primarily evening hours, so fifty dollars an hour? I’ll bill you daily, if that will be all right, but you can pay me by the week. Daily bills keep me from getting my hours mixed up. It can save you some money in the end.” He gave a friendly nod to the worker wiping down the table next to them as he lifted his coffee for a sip.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Koadh. I appreciate it. How long do you think it will take you to find out if he’s having an affair?”
Morris Koadh, private investigator, gave a mild shake of the head. It might have been a vague statement of who knew how long it would take, or it might have been wonder at a woman’s apparent eagerness to prove her boyfriend’s unfaithfulness. “It depends. You’ve given me a pretty good idea of his schedule. If he’s fitting in visits to this -,” he glanced at his notes—“Camille, it should be pretty obvious. You say you don’t think they suspect you suspect?”
Lara dropped the French fry she’d been about to put in her mouth. “I’m sure they don’t. I don’t know how to put it, but I know they’re having an affair. And, well, Mr. Koadh, that’s simply not acceptable. I won’t stand for it. He can’t do that to me. She can’t do that to us!”
Morris raised an eyebrow. “Miss Sawyer, I just write down what I see. I’ll call in my first report tomorrow evening.” He stood, gathering up the remains of his food. Lara stood, too, eager for him to go, eager to get this ordeal started. “Thank you, Mr. Koadh. I—I do hope you don’t really find out that Rodger is cheating on me.” She pulled the container of remaining fries towards her, fishing one from the pack to lift to her lips. She paused, the fry millimeters from her mouth. “It’s just, I know you will.”
And that was that, for the day. Lara estimated she had less than twenty-four hours to plan for both possibilities; what she would do if Rodger wasn’t having an affair with Camille, and what to do if he was.