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LOOKING FOR AN HONEST MAN

BY

DAVID M HOOPER

Chapter 0

Copyright Ó 2013 David M. Hooper

Cover Illustration by Caitlin Proctor

designcatstudio.com

First published by David M. Hooper in 2013.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.

Dedicated to my daughter, Caitlin. She has made so many things possible.

Chapter 00

Chapter 1

Vickie Taylor walked out of Doctor Arthur Benson’s office not knowing that she had only a few minutes to live. Her thoughts were on how Margaret Fowler’s referral to Doctor Benson had saved her life and marriage.

‘Sometimes it helps to bare your soul to some disinterested party. Life can be difficult. Sometimes you need a guiding hand to help you make the right decisions.’ Margaret had been right. After only two sessions, Vickie felt that she had made real progress. Today she’d told Doctor Benson everything and it left her feeling so much better.

The elevator door opened. She stepped in and pushed the button for the ground floor. The elevator made a soft hum as it carried her from the fifth to the first floor. A gentle bump when it stopped, the door slid opened and she walked out into a glass lobby that revealed a dark gray day. Her high heels clicked against the granite floor, alerting the security guard sitting at the desk by the front door. He nodded and smiled as she approached.

“I guess the weatherman was right for once. He said it was going to rain, just not this early.”

He gave a hearty laugh, and Vickie found herself chuckling although she’d forgotten her umbrella in the backseat of her Toyota Corolla. The rain came down with such a driving force that it sent water overflowing the gutter. She paused at the front door and looked up at the menacing clouds filling the blackened sky.

“It’s certainly coming down hard,” she said over her shoulder.

“Do you want me to walk you out, Miss? I have a large umbrella here at the desk.”

The guard started to get out of his chair.

Vickie held up a hand and said, “No, thanks. It isn’t that far to the garage. I think I’ll take a leap of faith.”

The security guard shook his head.

“If you don’t watch out, you’re going to be baptized.”           

She waved at the security guard before placing her purse over her head. She plunged out the door with a fury, leaped a fast rushing stream of water between the sidewalk and the parking lot and headed for her car. A silent curse slipped through her tight lips as she felt water splash on her shoes and up her leg. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the lonesome moan of an emergency vehicle. It was only four-thirty, and the parking lot was empty, which Vickie thought strange. Then she remembered it was Friday. She made it to the covered garage and took a moment to shake the water from her hair and brush off her purse. Watching the rain cascade off of the building portico, she made a mental note to carry her umbrella if the weatherman even mentioned rain. 

She had parked in the far corner of the bottom level of the two-story garage. A line of lights gave a dim yellow glow to the bare walls. The hollow echo of her footsteps made Vickie realize she was alone: it unnerved her. The heavy purse banged against her leg making it impossible to find her car keys as she walked. The further she entered the garage, the darker it became. Her car sat in the shadows. She hesitated, shook off the nervous feeling that something wasn’t right and continued to her car.

She set the purse against the edge of the window and foraged for her keys. Rick had cautioned her over and over to have her car keys in her right hand when she entered a parking garage. He had not been so cautious until he’d had to serve two rotations in a war zone, but Vickie had a mind of her own. She’d agreed with him just to shut him up, but now she felt that he was right. A nervous glance over her shoulder reinforced her belief that no one else was in the garage. Her hand shook as she threaded the key into the lock and turned it. She was comforted by the familiar snap, the clicking sound as she yanked on the door handle, and the familiar squeak as the door opened. A quick flick of the wrist and she flung the purse onto the passenger’s seat.  Her last thought was about fixing a special dinner for Rick, and then everything went dark.

Chapter 2

Sunday was coming to a close. Olivia stood on her balcony watching the sun fade on the tops of newly leafed trees. A cool breeze nipped at her bare arms, but she ignored the goose bumps and gazed at the horizon. Life was at a crossroad for Olivia Kennedy Kimsey. In the last year a marriage of thirty-four years had slipped away so fast her head still reeled. Will had sold the house in record time, took the majority of their savings and left for who knows where with his associate at the firm. Her friend Gretchen heard that he was living in Costa Rica in a beach house while Olivia faced the same future as many other women her age: find a job and survive. Her mother had once told her to never marry a lawyer or a doctor. A lawyer knew all the tricks, and a doctor was never at home. Olivia should have listened - Will was a lawyer. Olivia had exactly enough money to last her six months. Will had bought the condo for her, but she would be responsible for the monthly maintenance fees, which were too high for her budget. She’d voiced her concerns to Will. He laughed and told her to get a job, which was hard for a fifty-nine-year old housewife who hadn’t worked in thirty-four years. Maybe Will had provided the condo because he knew that she would fail.

The breeze kicked up, and Olivia’s long red ponytail wound around her face to tickle her nose. She casually brushed it aside as the streetlights on Brookside Boulevard came to life. Home alone on a Sunday night and nowhere to go, no one to see and really nothing to do. It was like that every night in her bleak existence. She could unpack the boxes left in the closet of the spare bedroom since the day she’d moved in, read the unopened book on her night table or go out and eat. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, the darkness sent her scampering inside to settle in an easy chair in front of the television. The screen flickered and flashed throughout the evening, but Olivia’s mind wandered until she realized that she’d dozed off. The evening had passed. She clicked the remote off at the beginning of the ten o’clock news.

Time to go to bed.

Olivia didn’t bother to wash her face or brush her teeth before she slowly laid her head on the pillow and took a deep, cleansing breath. Her right arm reached out automatically for Will, but she found the bed beside her empty, as it had been for the past year and a half when he told her of the affair. The deep void in her gut reminded her of her loneliness. Her hand returned to her chest to rest on top of the other. She closed her eyes and took another cleansing breath. The ritual was the same every night. After Will left, Olivia couldn’t eat or sleep, and she was nearing the point of exhaustion. Her daughter, Samantha, read an article about self-hypnosis helping you fall asleep. It worked! Olivia fell into such a deep sleep the first time that it frightened her. Now, when she reached a certain point, she saw is a momentary flash of light and fell into a deep sleep.

Tonight was no different. Olivia pictured herself in a canoe floating down a familiar stretch of the Eleven Point River in southern Missouri. She and Will had floated that river once or twice a year. Beginning at the edge of a long pool of calm, clear water, she saw the shadowy brown trout dart about as she dipped her imaginary paddle in the water. Tall white oaks filled the enormous bluff to her left. The canoe glided across the water while down river a Blue Heron flapped its large wings and lifted effortlessly into the air with a fish wiggling in its long beak. Olivia pulled the paddle from the water, placed it on her lap and closed her eyes to listen to the sounds around her. She heard the lumbering river in the distance as it wound around a bend and down a stretch of rapids when the white light flashed just before her canoe reached the small rapids. Inwardly, she felt calm, secure and relaxed with the knowledge she would wake refreshed. The rapids grew louder, and suddenly, the idyllic scene in her mind disappeared.

She was under.

This time Olivia realized she was still partially conscious, although it was dark. A faint noise in the distance troubled her, as if someone was mumbling. She became agitated. Her breath was labored, as if she was walking up a hill. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. Something had happened. Olivia no longer had any influence over her body. The voice grew louder: a woman's voice? Is she crying? Olivia wondered what the woman was doing here. Was this a dream?

Olivia’s head tossed back and forth on the pillow in an attempt to erase the voice from her mind. The harder she tried the more persistent the voice became. Finally, Olivia relaxed, and squinted to focus on a small speck of light that appeared in the distance in her mind. Suddenly, a young woman's face flew at warp speed and stopped in front of her. In her late twenties, early thirties, she was pretty with large eyes that defied description. Some might say they were a light brown with scattered dark specs. Rich black hair hung to her shoulders and framed her light brown, oval face. She tilted her head to one side, and the small mouth began to move.  The luscious, well-formed lips puckered for a second and then she spoke in a soft, pleading voice:

“Will you help me?”

The woman’s tongue gently glided over the soft lips until they glistened. The lips moved, forming a slight pucker as the words slipped from her mouth.

“Will you help me?”

***

“Mother, wake up!”

The voice that penetrated the darkness shot a bolt of fear through Olivia. She bolted upright in bed to find her daughter, Samantha, had opened the curtains to fill the room with bright morning light. Partially blinded, Olivia shaded her eyes and turned her head away.

“What's going on?” she asked groggily.

Samantha stood over her mother and blocked the sun with her body.

“Olivia Kennedy Kimsey, I could ask you the same thing. We’re going to meet Gretchen for breakfast this morning before my ten o'clock appointment. I'm ready, so what happened to you?”

Olivia pushed the hair out of her face and glanced at the clock: seven forty-five. Her mouth felt dry, her breath stale. She made a face as her tongue played across her dry lips.

“I don't know...strange dream,” she replied holding her head in her hands.

Samantha walked over to the closet.

“Well, your bed looks as if you fought with the devil last night, and I'm not sure who won. Rough night?”

“Jeans and a blouse. I'll shower when I get home.”

Samantha pulled some clothes out of the closet and placed them on the foot of the bed.

“Swipe some deodorant on those pits,” Samantha said, holding her nose.

Olivia crawled out of bed and moaned softly with the realization that she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep.

“Did you have a man in here last night?” Samantha asked playfully.

Olivia stopped in the bathroom doorway.

“That would've been nice,” she answered dreamily. “Especially the part where he doesn't have to see me in the morning.”

“Mother, I do believe you’re a horny old woman!” Samantha exclaimed.

Olivia slowly closed the bathroom door.

“I do believe you're right, Samantha. I do believe you are right.”