Sweet Salvation (18 page)

Marc was quick to follow, powering into her faster and harder, until he too plunged over the edge. He collapsed atop her; both breathing heavily as they refilled their oxygen-deprived lungs, bringing their heart rates back to normal. After a few moments, her tenacious caller tried again, her ringtone—Bon Jovi’s
Livin’ on a Prayer
—ascending in volume, tormenting them from across the room. He lifted his upper body and gazed down at her. His angry brown eyes from moments ago had given way to the familiar golden brown shade, still warmed by his passion. They now twinkled with amusement.

“What happened to
Blaze of Glory
?”

She shrugged. “A girl’s got to mix it up a bit.”

“My girl’s an 80s hair band junkie. Go figure.” He laughed softly as he pulled out. Immediately, she missed him filling and completing her. He stood and pulled her to her feet, hugging her close with his lips pressed against the top of her head. His hand stroked down her back, cupping a still warm cheek and squeezing firmly. “I guess you’d better get a move on, but remember what we discussed, Jessica.”

She was sorely tempted to explain that a discussion usually called for a two-way conversation, perhaps an exchange of ideas and that his way was more like a pronouncement. Wisely, she decided against it, not having the heart or the time. As she rushed out the door, Marc handed her a to-go cup of coffee with one last sweet kiss and an ‘I love you’ whispered against her lips. That was all she needed to convince herself she’d been right to let it slide.

As she worked her shift, once again shorthanded and assigned twelve post-op patients instead of eight, she reflected on their ‘discussion’ and knew he was well within his rights to be angry. He’d worked at the hospital for years as a staff physician and knew the politics. He had warned her the job would consume her life, and he’d been right. When she’d come to him about the opportunity a few months ago, he had adamantly told her no. They’d only been living together a short time and were still trying to find their way as a couple. Jessie knew of his heavy-handedness by that time. He had owned up to that character trait and more. Strangely, his dominance had been one of the things that had attracted her, along with his intelligence, quick wit, and playful side—his smokin’ hot body was a given. He’d never really put his foot down or forbidden her to do something she wanted—within reason, of course—especially about her career. Sure, they’d had the whole head of household discussion, Marc being traditional, even old-fashioned in his views on relationships, but it had been all theory until she’d mentioned the promotion.

Jessie had of course blown a gasket and they’d had their first big fight as a couple. Marc didn’t understand how important working was to her. She doubted he could relate to a girl from a working class background, whose mother had to scrimp and save just to get her school supplies each year. How could he understand the stigma of being poor when he’d come from wealth and influence? He didn’t know that not having the newest fashions could make a teenage girl a social outcast, or that having to search through second-hand stores for someone else’s castoffs was humiliating. She recalled a time in middle school, when one of the mean girls recognized the old dress Jess was wearing and pointed it out, snickering maliciously with her friends. Marc couldn’t possibly imagine the indignity she’d felt. It would make any fourteen-year-old want to crawl under a rock and die.

Jess had suffered many such disgraces in silence. She couldn’t tell her mom there was a stigma to being one of ‘those poor kids’ on the free lunch program. She didn’t tell her that she stopped going through the line at twelve. The day she’d made the high school cheerleading squad, she hadn’t told her mom that either. Instead, she’d quit the next day because the uniforms were too expensive and the entry fees for the competitions beyond their means. She wasn’t about to let her mom work more overtime for that, even though it had been something she wanted more than anything.

Inspired by adversity, she’d worked hard, gotten good grades, and earned scholarships. She’d done so well she had earned a free ride. True, it wasn’t all free and she’d had to pull her shifts in the cafeteria under the work study program, but it had all been worth it when she’d earned her nursing degree. Now she worked harder than most to keep what she had, even though being with Marc meant she didn’t have to. She had decided early on after digging herself out of poverty, that when she married, for better or worse, she would always have a financial safety net to fall back on. Just in case, like her parents, her world spiraled out of control.

No, Marc wouldn’t understand, and she really didn’t want to go there with him. Although he was well-grounded, hardworking, and extremely down to earth, a person’s background shaped them, shading their perspective no matter how much they tried to avoid it, or how enlightened they thought they were. He knew they had struggled, but Jess had never told him to what extent. She didn’t want him to picture her that way. She had put that part of her life behind her, and didn’t want to look back.

Work was a challenge that day with her mind scattered, her thoughts buzzing around her brain like a swarm of angry bees. The buzz becoming confused with the maddening call bells that seemed never to cease. While her mind was troubled, her body was equally diverted, legs aching from sledding, bottom tingling from Marc’s firm hand, and her pussy and clit still tender and aching from the morning quickie. With all that going on, it was no surprise she’d forgotten the task he’d given her.

Stacy and Jessie walked up the wide steps to the main entrance of the Forest Hills Country Club hand in hand, both women treating the 100-year-old institution with a reverence usually reserved for the hallowed halls of Congress, not a golf club. A valet had parked Stacy’s car and now a uniformed doorman welcomed them.

“This place reeks of money.” Jessie’s hushed voice bore a hint of disdain beneath the wonder.

“Old, moldy, and crusty money, you mean. Hey, look, Jess, there’s the welcoming committee now.” Stacy giggled nervously although she found little humor in the situation. She nodded toward a group of men in golf gear. They were eighty if they were a day. Dressed for a round or two, they wore plaid pants, sweater vests over polos, and baseball caps. Stacy doubted they’d had any intention of teeing off today with snow flurries flying and the temperature below freezing. Rain or shine, they were probably at the club every day. Impressed that they were still active enough to get out of the house on such a cold winter’s day, she smiled politely and gave them a small wave. One nodded, the others just eyed her and Jessie critically before entering a hallway at the far end of the room.

“We stand out like sore thumbs, Jess.”

“More like two bad pennies among hundred dollar bills.”

The image of two battered coins, worthless and unwanted was beginning to settle unpleasantly in her mind when a voice said from behind them, “Don’t mind them. They still haven’t gotten used to women being allowed in the club, let alone coming unescorted.”

The girls turned to find a young woman dressed in a blue suit with a crest on the lapel. She was holding a large binder. Smiling expectantly at them, she inquired, “Miss Altman and Miss Swanson, I presume?”

At their nod, she offered her business card to each of them. “I’m Kathy Fisher, the catering manager. Mrs. Baker is at your table in the dining room, if you’ll come with me?”

As they followed her, she turned and asked, “Mrs. Trent won’t be joining us?”

“No, she had a conflict.”

Stacy glanced at Jessie. Her clipped tone told her that something was going on. Jessie and Marc’s wedding was scheduled for April and they were having it at the country club too. Jessie’s mom, Lillian, was working and unable to attend, so Joanne, who was like a second mother to Marc, had suggested Jessie tag along as bride-to-be and maid of honor, killing two birds as they say. Stacy made a mental note to ask about the issue with Marc’s mom later. For now, she wanted to get this wedding planning over.

They spent the next hour on a tapas-like meal, taste-testing entrée options for their receptions. They even did a bit of wine tasting. Jared’s mother was helpful in that arena because as Stacy was the first to admit, she knew hops, not grapes.

Joanne was supportive but carefully neutral, offering comments when asked and seeking Stacy’s opinion with prompting questions such as “Which do you like, dear?” or “What do you think of the beef?” She even came up with the idea of a score card to rate each dish and wine in case they had a hard time deciding in the end. Stacy had been dreading the task, but was pleasantly surprised that it was so much fun. After almost two hours, they had unanimously agreed on the entrées but were still debating the wine, no real hardship amidst plenty of tipsy giggles.

“Okay, girls,” Joanne said with a giggled hiccup. “Let’s recap. We’ve decided on two whites, the Riesling and the Chardonnay, but we haven’t found a red to go with the filet of beef.” She signaled for the waitress, who brought over another bottle for sampling, which she poured—a standard two-ounce tasting pour—into fresh glasses. She served Jessie and Joanne first, who were already sniffing, swirling, and tasting, then she poured for Stacy. Unexpectedly, the waitress lurched forward and knocked over the glass. The dark red liquid spilled across the linen table cloth, staining everything in its path and rolling off the table edge onto Stacy’s lap. Joanne and Jessie automatically jumped from their chairs in response while the waitress gasped in alarm. After a brief pause, they sprang into action. Using their linen napkins, all three women began blotting the pooling wine before more could soak into Stacy. The dining room manager came to assist the waitress, both fussing over and apologizing to a stunned Stacy. Her dress, a winter white knit, was of course ruined.

“Stacy?” Jessie’s voice barely penetrated Stacy’s shocked brain, the distant sound like a ripple on the periphery of her awareness. She blinked, seeing only the red stain—crimson on stark white linen—like blood. A roar in her ears dimmed the voices further but did nothing to obliterate the loud pounding of her heart in her chest. An image, as horrific as it had been in reality, flashed in her mind. It was her father, as she’d last seen him, bloody and battered, in a stained white sheet like the linen. Her hands came up, ineffectually wiping at the red stain on her dress, as if she could make it disappear. Distressed, she whispered gutturally, “Jared.”

Vaguely, she heard her name called, but she couldn’t answer as her throat tightened and the panic took hold. She heard panting, gasping breaths close to her ear. Next, she felt herself moving. A sudden blast of cold air in her face startled her to semi-awareness. How did she get outside? Hands guided her down some steps. She heard Jessie’s voice close, whispering, “Breathe, honey, deep breaths.” Somehow, she was in a car with soft, comforting arms surrounding her. They rocked her gently. Stacy began to close her eyes, but they fell once again on the blood stains on her dress. Oh, God, her mind screamed, make it go away. Fingers pulled at her dress.

“Breathe, Stacy!”

She heard someone crying. No, not crying, more like a mournful wail.

“Stacy Lynn! Breathe with me, in through your nose,” Jessie’s usually sweet voice had turned stern and unyielding like Jared’s. The wailing cries changed. Now the voice cried out Jared’s name. Where was he? She needed him. Who was that, she thought irritably, and why wouldn’t they stop that infernal racket?

“Again, Stacy, breathe in for me.” Jessie continued to coach her.

Muddled, her tortured mind latched onto the familiar sound of Jessie’s voice. She turned to her, clutching her and collapsing against her, desperately seeking her out.

“Good. Now let it out. Concentrate on breathing for me, Stacy. Slowly in for five seconds, hold it for two, and then out for five. Do it with me, now.”

She did as Jessie told her and began to relax, incrementally. Thankfully, the wailing stopped, replaced by quiet weeping.

“Very good, now focus on counting with me.”

“Jared? Oh, honey, it’s Stacy. Jessie says she’s having a panic attack.” That was Joanne. As her words sank in, Stacy stiffened. Awareness was seeping back as she listened to the phone conversation.

“Jess is with her in the back seat,” was followed by a long pause. “No, she’s not hyperventilating or having chest pain from what I could tell.” Joanne’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror, looking at Jessie and then to her in turn. Stacy shook her head wildly.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the ER? She’s been screaming, mostly your name. We can meet you there in a few minutes.”

“No! Please.” Stacy cried out, her voice croaky and rough. Joanne’s gaze came back to her, tears misting her eyes.

“Okay. We’ll meet you at the house. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Jessie hugged her. “Keep breathing, sweetie. We’ll be home soon and then you can see Jared.”

Stacy focused on her breathing and closed her eyes, relaxing a bit more against Jessie.

It seemed as if only seconds passed when Jessie spoke again. “We’re here, Stacy.”

Her eyes opened and she saw they were parked in the circle drive. She could see Joanne standing in the open back door of the vehicle, looking in at her with concern. Stacy looked up at Jessie, who still held her tight.

“We’re home.”

Jessie’s relief was palpable. “Yeah, honey. Do you think you can make it inside?”

“No.” Brief and to the point was all she could manage. Her body was drained of energy and she could barely think, let alone move. She saw Jessie’s eyes shift over her head as a vehicle sounded behind her.

“Jared’s here. He can carry you.”

“Baby.” His deep voice was filled with concern as he called for her. Stacy turned to him instinctively, reaching for him desperately as if he were her lifeline.

“Jared!” she sobbed, reaching frantically for him.

She was lifted by his strong arms, which hugged her tight, curling her against his hard chest. Feeling blessed relief wash over her, she took her first deep breath in what seemed like forever. Letting it out in a long, grateful sigh was the last thing she remembered.