I didn’t think it was possible for the night to get any colder, but that’s what it felt like, so I was shivering again when I got into Christy’s car. She backed us out of the garage. I noticed that her tires had a much better grip on the icy asphalt than Leo’s tires. “Nice tires,” I said. Christy glanced at me and cranked the fan up higher, blowing heat across my face. I raised my hands into the blast.

“No gloves?” she said. “And no hat? You idiot. Get yourself some decent winter clothes.”

“Sure thing. Tomorrow.” I tried to see through the steamy windows and the snowfall, but couldn‘t see much except the road straight ahead. So I looked at Christy. “Do you live nearby?”

“Everybody lives nearby. It’s a very small town. But I live with Sandy. We pooled our money in order to buy that house and fix it up.”

“Are you and Sandy…um…?”

“Are we what, Gerry? Be brave and say what you’re thinking.”

“In love?”

“No. We’re friends, which means that, yes, I’d be willing to go out with you.”

I grinned in surprise. “Great! How about Sunday?”

Christy laughed a little. “You really are something else. How could someone so ingenuous be such a mystery, all at the same time? So, yeah, I’m curious, and Sunday it is, then. But, be nice to our friend, Tamara. Don’t break her heart.”

“It’s just a date. Dinner at Arlo’s place. Then maybe a little dancing. And then I have to go to work. There’s hardly time to take advantage of even the most gullible of women.”

“Got me there! I guess you have a right to be upset with her, but take it easy, anyway. After all, no harm done, right?”

I sat quiet, wondering if that were true.

“Hey, Giovanni, you’re home.”

I looked up and actually recognized the snow covered rocks along the road where she had pulled over.

“My name’s Gervasio, not Giovanni.”

She smiled at me, “Casanova, then.”

“Oh…I get it.”

“See you Sunday. I‘ll pick you up.” I started to protest and she stopped me. “What if you were late? I’d be sitting down there at Arlo’s trying to decide whether you stood me up or froze to death on the walk to town.”

I agreed, got out of the car, and walked as fast as possible through the heavy snow to my house. It was as cold inside as out. I crouched down by the space heater and resisted the urge to hold it in my arms. Eventually I got up the courage to move away from it and get in bed.

Sleep was a long time coming as I wrestled with the problem of Clarabelle Machk. I knew she was after the property and the money, but the question that haunted me was, how was she planning to get them? Over my dead body?

When I woke late the next morning the view from my window was ugly but welcome--a wide plain of soggy grey soil. Seems that a warm wind had moved across the peninsula in the night and melted most of the snow. Good! I figured it would be easier getting to the outhouse.

I opened the door, intending to take care of that cold chore immediately, and came face to face with an old guy examining the front of my house.

“Who…” I said.

“Mornin’. The name’s Waylon Fairchild. Roberta sent me over to do some plumbing for you. Mind if I look around?”

“Help yourself. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I ran with bare feet through the mud and a scattering of snowflakes.

When I got back I sponged down, got dressed, and phoned Tina.

Fairchild was making a lot of noise banging around the walls and floors inside my hut, so I carried my phone outside and was pleased to see that the sun had at last come to One Fried Egg. The flurries had stopped, the air smelled fresh, the sky was blue, and today’s special down at Arlo’s was Lobster Thermador.

After her speech, I said, “Hi, Beautiful. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

The silence on the other end lasted long enough for me to wonder if I’d run the battery down on my cell phone. I shook it and pressed it up against my ear again. “Tina? Still there?”

She answered with a sigh, “Yes, Mr. Zygmunt. I’m here. Are you calling for a reservation?”

“Yes, I am. Sunday night. Two for dinner at 6:00 PM. What’s the special on Sunday?”

“The chef will decide later tonight.”

I smiled at her through the phone, “It was nice to see you last night. Really nice. Let me buy you a cup of coffee this afternoon.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Zygmunt.” Click.

I was making progress. I could tell. It took her longer to hang up on me this time.

As for that guy, Joe, I had to wonder. Last night he’d watched TV instead of talking to her. Unreal! How could he sit next to a beautiful woman like Tina and not give her 100% of his attention? He deserved to lose her, although he might not accept that. Worse, he seemed to be the type who settled things with his fists. Like my brother. Could get messy. I might even end up with a few bruises. I rubbed at my chin, remembering the fights with Cavell and all our shared bruises.

Fairchild interrupted my wandering thoughts when he came out of the house looking for me. A long discussion of plumbing problems followed. They were legion, and very expensive. I’ve heard the jokes about boats being a hole in the water where you dump your money. But a hole in the water would smell better than the pit where my money was going.

“…so I suggest,” Fairchild continued, “that we bury the septic tank in that corner of the property over there.” He waved vaguely at the cliff. “And, Mr. Zygmunt, are you sure you want your house in this hollow? You might want to rebuild it a few yards closer to the ridge. Drainage. It matters. Folks think it doesn’t, but it does.”

“Why don’t we just bulldoze the whole landscape and flatten it out completely?”

“Not a good idea. Drainage, you know.”

“I was joking…”

“But you’ll want to haul away all this rock between you and the road. As it is, any fire truck would have trouble getting to you. That could be bad.”

“Can we get the plumbing done first?”

“Today. A crew is driving up from Chesterport. Think I hear the truck now. They’ll have the tank. You hanging around to watch?”

“I’ve got things to do in town. The place is yours.”

I shoved my phone and my hands into pockets and started walking, smiling at the wide blue sky all the way to One Fried Egg. I had decided that, whatever the cost, indoor plumbing would be worth it.

Tina would not look directly at me when I arrived at Arlo’s, even when I stood in front of her and asked to be seated at the counter for lunch. She made a big production out of showing me to my chair, but still refused to look at my face or meet my eyes. Tamara was tending bar.

I grinned at her, “What a beautiful sight you are, Tamara. I hope you’re looking forward to our date as much as I am.”

“Probably not,” she said. “Are you ordering?”

“A bowl of chili, a glass of water, and your cheerful company.”

“You’re too quick with those pick-up lines, Gerry. Sandy told me that you aren’t married, like we heard, but I’m not sure I know what to believe anymore.”

“I’m not married,” I insisted. “Not now, not ever. But only because I haven’t found her yet, the woman in my dreams.”

“What dreams?” she said, pretending she didn‘t care, but I knew I‘d got her attention.

I hesitated a little, then said carefully, “Almost every night I have the same dream. I’m standing in the woods. It’s nighttime. A woman appears between the trees, walking towards me. It’s too dark to see her face. I don‘t know who she is or what she looks like, only that she is coming for me, making no sound at all, her arms reaching out. Her robes move around her like smoke, and then spread wide, like wings, as she gets nearer, until at last her arms slide around my waist and her robes enclose us both. Her warm cheek is pressed on mine. I feel her breath on my ear as she whispers softly.”

“Whispers what?” Tamara’s eyes were wide and she was leaning forward.

“That she loves me, and that we are to be together forever.”

“Sounds mighty spooky to me. She could be a vampire. Or a witch.”

“Wouldn’t matter, as long as she loves me.”

Then Tamara got wise. “You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, biting down on my tongue to keep from laughing, because she was right.

“Yes, you are. Here’s your chili. I hope it burns you.”

“Like the touch of your fingers…” I placed my hand on hers. She pulled it slowly free.

“Eat your chili,” she said, and moved away to take care of another customer at the far end of the bar.

I looked down into the bowl of spicy beans and mystery meat, stirring the mess to cool it, and thinking about the story I’d just made up to amuse Tamara. Spooky, for sure, and maybe too close to the truth about what I was feeling these days.

After lunch I went over to the general store to watch a little television with George. We didn’t talk much, just watched game shows.

Sometimes he got up to take care of a customer. It wasn’t long, however, before I got bored with the game shows and went back to Arlo’s. I knocked some balls around the pool table and thought about the inheritance. Maybe I should become a businessman and build something in town, like a bowling alley, or a nightclub. Roberta was worried about people who had moved away, but there sure wasn’t much to do around here. In fact, I might leave myself, even though one of the conditions for getting my hands on the inheritance was that I had to raise a couple of kids. But for how long and how high? Three feet? Four feet? I’d have to check into that.

Eventually, the sun was on the horizon and the long afternoon finally came to an end. I put away the cue and wandered over to the bar. Tamara was wiping the counter.

“Hungry yet?” I said. “It’s six o’clock.”

“I’m starving. I still want the lobster, you know.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” I walked over to Tina and said, “Good evening, Miss. I have a reservation for two for dinner.”

“Yes, Sir. Your table is ready. Please follow me.” She showed us to the table by the window. I shook my head and said, “Not this one. There’s a draft from the window. How about that other one?” Both of the other two tables were empty.

“Of course, Sir. As you wish.”

I gave this second table equally serious consideration, while Tina waited grimly, not amused, and Tamara looked nervous. This table, I decided with a wave of my hand, was acceptable. As soon as we sat down Brandi came over to take our order. I studied the menu intently, trying to look cross, and then nodded, “Lobster for Tamara and pork chops for me.”

Brandi went off to talk to the cook. Tamara said, “One of these days, Tina’s going to lose her cool with you. You’ll regret it. She’s actually got quite a temper. Ask Joe, although, if you ask me, he usually deserves it. Anyway,” she chattered happily onward while I tried to imagine Tina throwing a tantrum, and why Joe would deserve it. Tamara continued, “Have you been down to the resort yet? The restaurant where Sandy works is real nice, the one called Rachelle’s.”

“Uh,” I thought quickly. What was Tamara talking about? Oh, yes. “I keep hearing about this place people call ‘the resort.’ What is it? A beach? Is there swimming?”

“Oh, no. The bay is too cold and rough for that. The town is just over the border, so gambling is legal. Bright lights, restaurants, shopping, nightclubs and casinos. It’s just fun to visit. You should go some time.”

“As soon as I get a car, I will.”

“I guess the security job over at the night club doesn’t pay much.”

“It’s enough. Did you grow up around here?”

Our food arrived before she could answer the question, and I guess she was as hungry as she said, considering how fast she ate that lobster. A couple of pieces of pink shell flew through the air and landed on my potatoes. I am not a particularly slow eater, but she was finished before I had eaten much of anything at all.

She pushed her plate aside and sat back with a sigh, “That was good. I bet it was as good as anything Sandy does. I like Sandy and all, but she can be a little snobby about her job at the resort.”

“Do you go down there much?”

“Nah. Ben doesn’t like the place. He just wants to sit around watching TV.”

“Ben? Who’s Ben?”

“Just a friend. We hang out a lot.”

“Watching TV?”

“That, and other stuff.”

I almost said, “Like what?” I shoved a chunk of potato in my mouth instead.

“So,” she said. “Tell me about yourself. What are you doing way out here in the boondocks? Running away?”

“My uncle owned a piece of land here. He died, and I came out to lay claim to it.”

“And sell it?”

“Not yet. There are a few things I have to take care of first.”

“You mean, like getting married and having kids? Carmen thought you were joking. Was it a joke? Or is it true?”

I put my fork down. “I was joking around with Carmen, and I’m done eating. Let’s walk down to the Windmill. I want to dance with you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Up close.”

“Not too close.”

“…with my arms around you.”

“Too close.”

“Close enough to share my secrets.”

“That’ll work, but I’m expecting some good ones.”

I stood up from the table and paid the bill, then helped Tamara with her coat. She had yet to take off her apron, which I thought a little weird, but what the heck. Hazelton, also known as One Fried Egg, is a casual sort of town.

The Windmill was almost as dead as Arlo’s. Maybe everyone goes down to the resort on Saturday nights.

I put some coin in the jukebox and chose a Rock Hendricks song, something called ‘Love of Mine,’ then reached for Tamara, slipping my arm around her waist. She did not object.

“What’s this music? Jazz?”

“Smooth jazz. Do you hear the sax?”

“Yes, and I like it.” She swayed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in time to the music. If she was trying to get my complete attention, it worked. I forgot all about Tina.

She leaned closer, eyes sleepy, and I was about to kiss her when she whispered. “Who is that woman who says she is your wife?”

“I don’t know who she is. She’s not important.”

“But you spent the whole afternoon with her.”

I had both hands on Tamara’s hips by now, feeling her move under them, wondering how far she would allow me to go. “I think she’s a witch. She cast a spell over us, you and me, to keep us apart.”

“Not me.”

“No? Then how did she persuade you to mix something in my drink?” As soon as I said it, I wanted to kick myself.

Tamara stopped dancing and pulled away. “Oh…er…I’m sorry about that. I thought…I mean, she said…”

“Don’t worry about it. She fooled us both. Come here. Let’s dance.”

“It’s late. I need to get home. Been on my feet all day, you know.”

“Tammy…”

“I had a great time, Gerry. You’re really very nice. I’d like to do this again.”

“I have a secret to tell you.”

She chewed on her lip, hesitating. “What is it?”

I moved in close and whispered in her ear, “I dreamed of you last night, of kissing you, like this…”

I pulled her hard against me and kissed her. She gave it back to me, just as eager for that kiss as I was.

Then she broke free and said, “I think you’d better get to work. Don’t want to lose that job, do you?”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. It’s two minutes before 8.”

“Rats!” I had suddenly remembered all the money I owed to Roberta.

“Better run.”

I did.

I heard the car horn, took a second to make sure I had my wallet (yup, thin but enough,) and sprinted for the road.

“Hi, Christy!” I jumped in beside her and pulled the door shut. She had the heater blasting and I rubbed my hands together in front of the vent. “Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it.”

Christy stared at my clothes. “Why are you wearing Mr. Lubomir’s suit?”

I looked down at my new clothes. Except, not exactly new. George had given me a tour of the racks in the store basement, telling me that the store sometimes sold, for small change, used clothes. Clean, he insisted. The stuff might be a little dusty, but it’s all been laundered.

I held up an arm and smoothed the sleeve. “There are a lot of good clothes, very cheap, in the store basement. George showed me around. This only cost me two fifty.”

“Two and a half simoleons?”

“That’s right. A good bargain, don‘t you think?”

“Worth every penny.” She turned the car around and headed for One Fried Egg. She didn‘t say anything for a few minutes, then, “So, Gerry, how was your date with Tamara?”

“Great. She’s nice. I like her.”

“How much? She called all of us last night after you left for work. Her boyfriend is not too happy.”

“Boyfriend? I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. She mentioned a name--Ben--but she didn’t talk about him like she cared one way or the other. Is it Ben?”

“It’s Ben. Tamara, however, is looking for true love like she sees in the movies. Once upon a time, Ben was her true love, but not anymore. She’s bored. You, Gerry, are the new lead in her love story.”

“Me? It was just one date.”

“Come on, Gerry. You grabbed her and kissed her like…” Christy grinned, “…like Milo kissed Eliza. Poor, dim-witted, little Tamara. She compared you to Milo, of all things. I’m glad Ben took her down to the resort today. You lit a fire under his lazy ass, and that’s probably a good thing.”

“Who’s Milo? Another boyfriend?”

“Milo Panaderez and Eliza Stone in the Veronaville TV series. It’s been running for a couple of years. How could you not know who they are?”

“Can’t afford a TV.”

“Ah,” she sighed. “That’s tough. You could stand to learn a few things from that show.”

I didn’t think so, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I considered my mental list of possible wives and drew a line through Tamara’s name. Yes, I like Tamara. I had enjoyed the date. I would have enjoyed several dates, but if I’m going to be wrestling with boyfriends, I only wanted to wrestle with one, and that one was Tina’s boyfriend, Joe.

I studied Christy’s profile. She was pretty, and probably had at least one boyfriend. “What about you?” I said. “Do you have any boyfriends who are going to get angry about your date with me?”

“You go first. I am not going to answer questions about myself until I’ve heard all about you, including girlfriends. And wives. You and I are going to get some dinner at Arlo’s, play a little pool, and,” she glanced at me, smiling, “chat.”

Yuck, I thought. Chat. Her idea of a chat was probably not the same as mine. I had a feeling that what she planned was more along the lines of an interrogation. But she probably didn’t realize that she had just thrown a challenge in my face. It was too much to resist. “I’m all for dinner and a game of pool. I hoped we might go down to the Windmill…”

“Nope. No dancing. Just pool.”

“OK. I’m fine with that.” I figured she was a little riled up at the moment. Maybe later she’d relax and be more open to the idea of a little dancing. If chatting is what it took, then chatting is what I would do.

We pulled into One Fried Egg.

Christy had told me already that Tamara was not going to be there because of her date with Ben. But Tina wasn’t there either. I stopped myself from asking where she was. Probably just a night off from work.

As usual, all three tables were empty and we had our pick. We both ordered fried chicken. Christy ate more slowly than Tamara, cutting carefully at the chicken with her knife.

“Where are you from, Gerry?”

“Doesn’t the whole town know that already? I’m from Pleasantview. It’s quite a ways up…”

“Oh, I know where it is. I’ve been there.”

“And you came back? I got the impression from Roberta that nobody comes back.”

Christy shrugged, “That’s generally true, but not entirely. People do return home, you know. Will you?”

I chewed up a big mouthful of chicken and swallowed, “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On my wife.”

“Oh?” Christy replied mildly. “You said you had never married. Which is it?”

“I haven’t. I’m talking about the wife I will have some day. I suppose, like Tamara,” I looked down at my plate and stirred the beans with my fork, “I am waiting for the right one, for true love.”

Christy laughed. She laughed until her eyes watered and she had to dab at them with her napkin. “That’s good,” she said at last, still chuckling. “Not as good as the woman in the woods. That’s the dream sequence, right? Tamara told us about that, too.”

I ran fingers through my hair, and shook my head. This was very annoying. Everyone in town seemed to be repeating everything I said to anyone.

Christy reached across the table and patted my arm. “Don’t fret, Gerry. You are really very entertaining. I’m enjoying this date immensely.” She smiled and began working on her chicken again. “All of us, you see, are curious about the new face in town. What we know about you doesn’t quite add up. There are contradictions. You are the heir of a very rich man, a very dead rich man, but don’t seem to have any money. Roberta confirms that you are not married, but you clearly want to be, and are being stalked by a woman who claims to be your much abused wife. Are you really surprised that you are the hot topic of conversation? Everything you say and do?”

“Abused wife?”

Christy stopped smiling. “So she says. She showed Tamara some old scars.”

I felt sick. “Cavell.”

“What or who is Cavell?”

I didn‘t realize I had spoken his name out loud. I waved the question away, “It‘s nothing. I’m done eating. How about that game of pool?”

If Christy didn’t know about Cavell, then Roberta had not revealed every single detail of my life to everyone in town. Ramona aka Clarabelle wasn’t going to talk about Cavell, either. It would not suit her plans for me. Had I mentioned him to anyone else? I couldn’t remember and hoped that I hadn’t.

Christy looked vaguely annoyed, and then nodded, “Sure.”

She insisted I break the rack and it was pure luck that two stripes went into the pockets. I continued with stripes, getting two more in the pocket before missing my next shot.

Christy watched my efforts closely. “You don’t play pool much, I’d guess, by the way you hold the cue.”

“Not very often.”

“Want to put some money on this game?”

“I don’t have any left. That chicken dinner cleaned me out until the next paycheck, and Waylon and Roberta will get that one.”

“Something else, then? If I win, you can shovel our driveway after the next snow.”

“It’s a deal. And if I win, I want a kiss.”

“Oh, brother,” she snorted in disgust. “I thought you’d at least want me to clean your house.”

“Nope. Just a kiss.”

“I agree, but you won’t win.”

I am not very good at pool. That’s the truth. Christy, on the other hand, was confident and smooth with all her shots.

And yet, she lost. With my last shot I sank the 8-ball and couldn’t stop grinning at her. She stared at the pool table and then at me. She said, “I can‘t believe it. You were not hustling me, either. Just luck, right?”

“Just luck,” I admitted. “But I’ll be happy to shovel your driveway after the next snow, anyway. And if you can’t stand the thought of kissing me, I’m OK with that, too. I didn‘t expect to win.”

“And leave me wondering what all the fuss is about? I’ll accept your offer to shovel the driveway, Mr. Zygmunt, but I want the kiss, too, and I want the best one you’ve got.”

It’s true what they say about reverse psychology.

I decided that grabbing her the way I had grabbed Tamara was not the way to go with Christy. She was watching me intently, eyes narrowed a little, and I knew that I wouldn’t get another date with her unless I did this right. I set the cue aside, took hers away and set it aside, and then moved closer and put my arms around her. If at any time I suspected she was going to start laughing at me I was ready to back off. I’d had the feeling all night that she was just playing with me, that she didn’t take me seriously. But she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. I held her close for a moment, just admiring her clear eyes, and then kissed her slowly and carefully. She was careful, too, but leaned against me, prolonging it. I didn’t let her go immediately. She said softly, “Very nice, Gerry. Very nice, indeed. I’ll drop you off at the plant. You have to work tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes. I had a good time, Christy. I’d like to go out with you again.”

“Call me in a couple of days and we’ll see.”

She drove me to the plant without saying anything more. I didn’t get out of the car immediately. I said, “Everything OK?”

She looked over at me with a crooked smile. “I was hoping to get some answers tonight, and I didn’t. Well, except for one. But never mind that. I’d like to know, however, if you plan to stay in Hazelton. Are you? Or are you going to leave?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“An honest answer. Thank you. Good night, Gerry.”

I got out of the car and watched her drive off the lot and down the highway. Then I went inside, thinking about Tina and wondering if kissing her would set off feelings that I hadn’t felt for either Tamara or Christy. Yes, I liked Christy, and I’d be willing to marry her. But I worried a little. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life making love to one woman while I was dreaming of another. And I also suspected that Christy wouldn‘t want that, either.

Zygmunt, I told myself, don’t be stupid. The plan is to get married. Stay focused.

I was up by 9 AM on Monday, and for the second morning in a row, I took a long hot shower. Waylon had done a good job. I didn’t care about the cruddy stone walls and floor of my bathroom. The only thing that mattered was that I had steaming hot water pouring down over my head. Pure heaven. The flush toilet was nice, too.

When I got dressed, I found a 5-simoleon note wadded up in one of the pockets of old Mr. Lubomir’s jacket. Great! My luck had turned a corner, for sure. I grabbed my cell phone and called the restaurant.

A man answered the phone, his voice dripping with boredom.

I said, “Is Tina there?”

“She quit,” he said. “Got a job down at the resort.”

“Where? Is it Rachelle’s? Where Sandy works?”

“Hey, Buster, why don’t you drive down and see for yourself. I got calls waiting.” He hung up.

I had no car, so there’d be no driving to the resort. I fingered the 5-simoleon note. Not enough for a taxi, but it might be enough to buy a used coat from the bargain basement of the general store. The weather looked grim and my radio announced another snowstorm coming, so buying a coat would be a good idea. I decided to go into town and visit George.

As I walked down Ibolya Street to Route 37, I remembered that George was probably in school, since it was Monday morning. Thinking of George led to thoughts about George’s car. I’d seen the teenager driving it a couple of times, a rusty heap that left trails of smelly fumes. It occurred to me that George might like to pay a visit to the resort. I’d buy him a tank of gas and dinner at…not Rachelle’s…somewhere cheaper. Of course, all of this would have to wait until after I got my first police academy paycheck. I was pleased with these plans, and started thinking about how surprised Tina would be when I showed up at Rachelle’s one evening.

When I got to the store, I spent a long time in the basement, looking over the coats, and finally decided on one that seemed heavy enough for local snowstorms. It cost only 4 simoleons. I paid the clerk, an older man who might be either the manager or the owner, and put on my new coat before going outside.

I was halfway across the square, thinking about getting a cup of coffee from Arlo’s before walking home, when someone called out to me.

“Zygmunt!”

Two guys who’d been standing near the door to Roberta’s office walked over to where I’d stopped. I recognized one of them as Joe, Tina’s friend. I’d seen the other one around but didn’t know his name--blond hair with a sharp jaw matched by an even sharper nose.

I saw in their faces, and in their efforts to appear casual, that I’d finally gotten the attention of Hazelton’s men. At least this first powwow was in the middle of the day in front of anyone who happened to walk by. Whatever they were planning, it might be painful, but it wouldn’t be too severe.

They both moved in close. If I’d had any doubts left about their intentions, I didn’t now.

Joe said, “Got yourself a coat? Nice one. Look’s like my cousin’s old coat.” He reached for the collar.

I knocked his hand aside. The other guy had shifted around behind me. There was nothing I could do about that, except to ready myself for the punch I would not be able to stop. Too bad I had not zipped up my coat. I had made it easy for them.

They were more than a little experienced at this maneuver. I could tell, because it was a smooth operation and all finished within a split second. The guy behind me suddenly pulled my coat back off my shoulders, effectively pinning my arms at the same moment that Joe planted his fist in my stomach.

They both caught hold of me as I staggered, bent forward from the blow. As I struggled to breathe, they carefully arranged my coat back on my shoulders. Joe even zipped up the front as the other guy held me upright. Having finished with the zipper, he straightened the collar, and said softly, “Just a warning. Stay away from our girls.”

They sauntered away, not looking back.

I stood quietly, sucking buckets of cold air into my lungs as I watched the two of them disappear down the road. I was trying not to cough. It hurt worse when I coughed, but not as bad as it might have been, and I was forced to thank Cavell for that. My brother had knocked the wind out me once too often, and I’d been exercising the muscles of my midsection ever since. Joe Carr had a strong arm and a big fist, and I was plenty sore, but I wasn’t curled into a ball on the ground, barfing up my breakfast.

My cell phone rang. I dug it out. I didn’t recognize the number and figured someone had dialed mine by mistake. “Hello,” I said roughly, coughing in spite of myself.

“Who’s this? Where’s Gerry?” the voice on the other end clearly expected an immediate answer. It sounded like a woman, an older woman. And there was something about the tone of her voice…

“Hi, Roberta. It’s me. Gerry. I thought this was a wrong number.”

“I don’t make mistakes when I dial a phone. And what’s the matter with you? Are you sick?”

“Drank my coffee too fast. Swallowed wrong. What’s up?”

“Your brother’s loose. Thought you ought to know. They let him out early on parole and he didn’t check in with the parole officer this week. He’s vanished. I can guess where he’s headed. Ramona is definitely his wife, by the way. Still married, too. My lawyer’s got all the papers. I’m headed back to Hazelton tonight. Be careful, Gerry.” She hung up.

I put the phone away as the elderly clerk from the general store came up beside me.

“You OK?” he said.

“Yes, thanks. I’m OK.”

“Glad to hear it. Roberta’s out of town or I’d have called her. You should stay out of the way of those goons, Ben and Joe, Joe in particular. He’s got some bad friends down in the resort. Real bad.”

I nodded my understanding, “Thanks again,” and started walking home. The air smelled like the coming storm, like snow, and I raised my eyes to the grim rocks of the ridge that rose high over the road ahead of me.

I wondered whose friends were worse, Joe’s or Cavell’s. Maybe I should just let Cavell have the property and the money. Maybe I’d live longer if I went back to Pleasantview.

It would have been smart to leave, but I had plans, and neither Joe nor Cavell was going to stop me. Not this time.

Before today, I had not paid much attention to the rocks that lay tumbled around the base of the ridge near my small house. Any thought I’d given to them at all was either that they were a nuisance or that they at least blocked some of the high winds that occasionally swept over the peninsula.

Today was different. Today the world was full of my enemies, and the rocks had too many shadows, too many secret places where my enemies could hide.

I forced my eyes away from the rough face of the ridge and walked toward the far edge of the property, toward where the cliff road came up. Halfway there, I stopped, turned around, and looked at my house, and at the earth and the rock of ancient landslides piled behind it. Nothing moved. Everything was quiet under the noon sun. No surprise that my cell phone’s sudden loud ring almost stopped my heart on the spot. I dug it out angrily, wondering who it could possibly be this time. Calm down, I told myself as I flipped it open. Might be Christy, or Tamara, or even Roberta again.

“Hello?” I said cautiously.

Someone hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then said, “Is this Gerry?” It was a woman’s voice, and I recognized her immediately. After all, I had spoken to her on the phone most mornings since I’d first arrived in town.

“Tina?” I smiled. “Yes, it’s me. I’m glad you called. I heard you took a job down at the resort. I’ve never been there. I thought it might be time for me to see the place. In a week, I think I could…”

“No,” I heard her sigh. “Not a good idea. But, I’d like to talk to you. Just for a few minutes.”

“Sure. Anytime you like. Today? I’m completely free today.”

“Yes, today is good. In fact, right now is good. Christy will come get you. I’m at Sandy’s.”

“Great! I’ll be out by the mailbox.” I closed the phone, grinning like a fool, and jogged out to the road where I paced back and forth, listening for the sound of Christy’s car. Why would Tina want to meet like this? Had Christy told her about our date? If so, she must have made it sound good. Thank you, Christy. I owe you.

I didn’t have to wait long. She pulled up to the mailbox and I got in, moving a little more slowly and carefully than I had the night before. “Hi, Christy.”

She nodded as she turned the car around. “Hello, Gerry. I like your coat. Another bargain? If so, you made a good choice.”

“Thanks. It’s a little snug under the arms, but it was only 4 simoleons.”

“Well done. We’re due for another storm, so your money wasn’t wasted. Eventually, believe it or not, summer will come here, like it does everywhere else.”

“And it’ll be hot enough to fry eggs on the street. I’m not sure I’m looking forward to that.”

We exchanged a few more words about the weather, until I saw Sandy’s house up ahead. I felt tense. I said, “Stop here. Right here. I want to walk the rest of the way.” Walking, I thought, might help me to relax. I wanted to think about what I might say to Tina. I didn’t want to screw this up.

Without a word, she pulled over. The house was no more than a block away. I had my hand on the car door, ready to open it, when Christy stopped me. When I looked up, she said, “Be careful where you walk. I don’t want any mud on my kitchen floor.”

“Sure,” I got out and tried to avoid the slush on the sidewalk.

I didn’t succeed very well, so I was particularly careful about wiping my feet on the doormat. That’s what I was doing when the door opened. Tina was there, as beautiful as ever.

She said, “Forget about that and come inside.”

I didn’t see Sandy anywhere, and asked about her as I took off my coat and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair.

Christy had just come in from parking the car and answered the question, “She’s at work. Go have a seat in the living room, Gerry. You, too, Tina. I’ll make some coffee.”

I sat down on one couch. Tina took the other, sitting at the far end. She also acted nervous, and would not meet my eyes at first. Finally, she said, “Gerry, I want to apologize for what Joe did. He told me. I’m furious with him and I let him know it. I‘m glad you’re OK. Joe has big problems with his temper, and I was worried.”

I stared at her. Damn him! That idiot boyfriend of hers had obviously bragged about beating me up, and now she saw me as some poor schmuck who could not defend himself.

I rose angrily to my feet, and said, “It would have been OK to tell me that over the phone. And I’d have told you that you aren’t the one to be apologizing for anything. I’ll see you around.”

Maybe I should not have been so rude to her. I tried telling myself to keep cool. This, I reminded myself, is the first real chance you’ve had to talk to her. For Pete’s sake, don’t blow it. But I was too angry to listen to my own advice. I just wanted to get out.

She had risen to her feet as quickly as I had. “Gerry, wait. I‘m sorry you were hurt.”

“I‘m not hurt!” I lowered my voice, “I’m fine. You had nothing to worry about.” I glanced over at Christy who had come in from the kitchen. I said, “Thanks for the ride over. I’ll walk home.”

I shouldered past Tina, not very nicely. I was thinking about how much I wanted to have it out with Joe, starting with a fist in his arrogant face.

Christy blocked my way. “You just got here, and I went to a lot of trouble to make a pot of coffee, so be polite and stay a little while.”

We stared each other down for a second. She said, “Alright, then. You don’t want coffee. I’ll drive you home.” She let me pass.

I pulled my coat off the kitchen chair and shoved my arms into the sleeves. I had a lot to think about. Christy, for instance. I should be thinking about asking her out again. All my senses, however, were locked on the dark-haired woman who stood in front of the fireplace with her back to me.

You’re an idiot, Gerry, I told myself. You are wasting your time with her. Focus on Christy. But I could not.

As I wrestled with the zipper of my coat, I realized that Christy was holding the kitchen door open, waiting for me. I said, “I really don’t want a ride. I’ll walk.”

“So,” she shrugged, “I won’t force a ride on you, but I’ll walk a little ways with you. Let’s go.”

When we were a short distance from the house, she slipped her arm through mine and we walked like that in silence for a few minutes. Then, she said, “Please stay under the radar for a while. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Oh, dear…you’re getting angry again.”

“He’s just a punk!”

“A punk with some evil friends. They’ve delivered a couple of severe beatings to people they don’t like.”

“I am not going back to Pleasantview. I am making my home here, and that’s final. And make no mistake, I can handle Joe.”

She took a deep breath. “OK, maybe you can. Ben thinks so. He pulled me aside while Joe was puffing out his chest in front of Tina. Ben said you just stood there like you knew what was coming, and waited for it, not saying a word to either one of them. Not before. Not after. Like you’re some kind of creepy mind reader, he said.”

“Talking to them would not have stopped them.”

Christy pulled her arm from mine, “Just don’t pick any fights until you know more about who you’re fighting. They’re organized. Promise me you’ll be careful. Please. OK?” I nodded, and she changed the subject. “Tina’s my friend. She has a good heart and deserves better than Joe. She just hasn’t figured that out, yet. Give her another chance. She likes you.”

“She hangs up on me.”

Christy laughed, “You’ve been a serious pest, but she always had a smile on her face and a new light in her eyes after your calls.”

Without thinking I reached up and touched a strand of Christy’s hair that had strayed across her forehead. “What about you? Do you like me enough to have dinner with me tomorrow night? My place. About 6.”

She hesitated, then shook her head, “It’s not me that you want, Gerry. It’s Tina. It’s all over your face when you’re in the same room with her.”

“Christy,” I grabbed her hand, “come as a friend. Just dinner. I like talking to you. I will answer any questions you have about me. How about it?”

“Any questions, you say? OK, then. I’ll be there. Be ready, because I have a lot of questions.”

Looking back, I know now that my pride got in the way of caution. I had insisted that I could take care of myself. And yet, I walked up the street to my house, around through the rocks, and up to my front door, without once pausing to think that someone might be waiting for me. All my worries about being surrounded by my enemies were forgotten as I struggled over my feelings for Tina. Why? I asked myself. You don’t know her. She’s a fantasy you’ve created from a pretty face. Only one thing matters--if you want this land you need to marry someone agreeable and have a couple of kids. What’s so hard about that? Nothing. Ask Christy to marry you. Tell her about the inheritance and offer to share it with her.

A shadow at the corner of the house suddenly moved and spoke to me. “Well, well,” it said. “Mary’s back.”

Mary was his nickname for me. It rhymed with Gerry. Merry Gerry had been his taunt from an early age. Over the years, it had become simply, Mary.

He held up his hand and showed me the gun. “Give me your phone, Mary. Move slow.”

I did as he said, wondering if this was to be the last day of my life. I was unusually calm about the prospect. It had been such a miserably disappointing day. Except for the coat. I glanced down at my bargain, figuring that a coat probably wasn’t needed in the afterlife. Too bad.

He said, “Nice coat. Where’d you get it?”

“The store has some used clothes for sale in the basement. This one only cost 4 simoleons. Best deal I ever got on a coat.”

He nodded and moved closer so that he could finger the material of the sleeve. “Better than mine. I think it’ll fit, too. Take it off.”

I slipped it off my shoulders and handed it to him. Somehow, he got his own coat off without letting go of the gun, and put mine on. He ran his hand down the chest, smoothing the material. I picked his coat up off the ground.

“Are we going inside?” I said. “I’ve got some food. I can fix you a sandwich.”

He laughed, “You’re such a good wife, Mary. Yeah, fix me a sandwich.”

He sat down at the table and played with the gun, occasionally pointing it at me and saying, “Boom. You’re dead.”

I fixed sandwiches, put a plate in front of him and sat down with one myself. I watched him eat, fascinated at how normal he looked for a madman.

“So, Mary,” he said. “How’ve you been? You didn’t visit me in the pen. Never saw you. Never got a letter. Why not?”

“Thought you hated the sight of me. You said so in court.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just mad because of that stupid jury. I didn’t kill anyone. I swear. I was wrongly accused. It was a miscarriage of justice.”

“OK.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He chewed on his sandwich and pointed the gun at my face. I could see partway down the barrel.

“Someone died,” I said slowly. I remembered the psychiatrists at his trial, the ones who had described him as a psychopath. It wasn’t news to me.

“It happens,” he said, lowering the gun. He took another bite of his sandwich. “Where’s Ramona? I want to talk to her.”

“I’m not sure. I think she may be down at the end of the peninsula, at a place the locals call the resort.”

“Nah. I’ve been there. I’ve followed her trail up here. She’s around here somewhere. I think she and her brother are after you. For the money. That’s why she got you to do it with her.”

I choked on my sandwich. Cavell jumped up and pounded on my back, a lot harder than necessary.

When I recovered, I said, “I didn’t know she was your wife. I didn‘t even know you were married.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not going to kill you over this business with Ramona. I’m not going to kill either of you, as a matter of fact, because that’s how we’re going to get this land. Did you know that you’re sitting on a goldmine here? Real gold. That’s what my lawyer told me. Remember Domokos? The one you call a shyster in your diary…yeah, I read the whole thing…Uncle Fredek showed him the geologists’ reports. There’s gold here and a lot of it.”

He had read my journal. He knew about them all, about Tamara and Tina, Christy and Roberta, everyone I’d written about. And he was a psychopath.

“Domokos,” he continued, “explained it to me very carefully. Uncle Fredek liked you and he didn’t like me. So you have to meet the terms of the will, get all the money, and then give it to me. Got it? The only other way for me to get it is for you to die. I‘m not going to kill my own brother. We have to watch out for each other, you and me. Brothers need each other.”

He grinned. I nodded. For now, I had no choice. I just wanted to keep him calm.

“So,” he continued. “I divorce Ramona. You marry her, have the two kids and it’s all done. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll have twins. Of course, we’ll have to have one of those tests done to make sure the kid is yours.”

“If I’m married to her that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m talking about the one she’s carrying now. It’s probably yours, but we’ll have to prove it.” He sneered, “That’s right, Mary. You’re pregnant.”

Wow, that was a great few chapters! Thanks! All these characters are fascinating. I don't think I'll look at the Christy Stratton or Sandy Bruty or Joe Carr in my game the same way now.

Poor Gerry. So many dilemmas for him to be dealing with. I'm extremely interested to see how all these latest developments pan out!

Thank you, Em.

Poor Gerry's life has gotten quite complicated. The smell of money draws all sorts of bad people out of the woodwork. It's going to take a lot more chapters for him to solve his problems.

“How do you know that?” I demanded. “You just told me that you haven’t talked to her.”

“Her brother told me. I found him down at the resort, at the casino.” Cavell snickered, “He saw me coming and tried to get away, knocking people over, running into the back, through the kitchen. My advice is don’t eat at that place. The floor is covered with crap. He slipped in it. I got him.” Cavell tapped the muzzle of the gun against my chin, “What’s this look for? You think I killed him? Nope. I told you, I haven‘t killed anyone. He’s hurting, but he’ll live.”

Did I believe him? Not really. He had always lied easily, manipulating people for his own ends. But my immediate worry was for Clarabelle. “What did he tell you?”

“His life story. Wouldn’t shut up.”

“About Clara…I mean, Ramona?”

“Ah, my adoring wife. Such a sweet little thing once upon a time. We have a kid ourselves, you know. Lives with Ramona’s mother. Someday I’d like to go visit and introduce myself. Maybe when I’m rich and have a fancy car and a gold watch.”

“And Ramona?” I insisted. “What did he tell you about Ramona?”

“She’s pregnant. It was the first thing he told me. I thought he was just trying to distract me, but eventually I figured he was telling the truth, especially when he told me about you and how he planned to push you off the cliff one night. Good thing I showed up, isn‘t it?” Cavell paused, then said, “I’m going to go find Ramona and bring her back here.”

I watched him put on my coat. He opened the door and looked over his shoulder at me. “I know how you think, Mary, and it’s all stupid, so just do as I say. Stay here and wait for me. That girl you talk about in your diary…is it Tina? You like her? I might like her, too?” He nodded at me, winked, and left.

I listened to the heavy sound of his boots as he walked away from the house, and then I sat down and stared out the window. It was ugly out there, but under that wretched landscape of slush and mud lay riches that my brother and Clarabelle’s brother would kill for. As for me, I would certainly never go that far, but I wasn’t innocent. I had been obsessed about the land, too. And now everyone was in danger because of it, unless I did as Cavell wanted. That was the meaning of his last comment, his threat about Tina.

But what was wrong with doing what he wanted? Isn’t it exactly what I’ve wanted, too? Haven’t I been telling myself over and over again that it doesn’t matter who I marry? She just has to be willing to have a couple of kids and live here for a little while?

So, there it is. The problem was solved. I marry Clarabelle, have kids, and give Cavell all the money he wants. All my friends in Hazelton will be safe, and I can move back to Pleasantview and live happily ever after.

It was everything I had planned to do anyway, so why did I feel so lousy?

Why? Just think about it, Gerry, I told myself. Cavell is here and he’s crazy. He beats people up. People like you. And this house is too small for three of us plus a little kid. Where will we all sleep? I guess we’ll have to get a crib, too. What else? Oh, yes. Suppose the police academy finds out you’re harboring a fugitive. End of career, even if Cavell doesn’t shoot you first because you come home from work wearing a police uniform. And no more dreams about dating Tina, especially the one where you propose, and she says yes and hugs you and is thrilled to pieces with the big diamond ring you give her.

And finally… Yup, go ahead and admit it, since nobody’s listening. You don’t want to marry just anyone. You want someone special, someone who wants your love, someone who wants to spend the rest of her life with Gervasio Alger Zygmunt.

Clarabelle? No way. She’s after the money and wouldn’t care if you went over the cliff.

I moved a finger around on the sticky vinyl of the table, stirring up the breadcrumbs that remained from lunch. There was no escape from Clarabelle. She was pregnant and it was probably mine.

It? Once upon a time I was ‘it.’ And my father had married my mother and given me a home. I started to wonder about ‘it.’ Was ‘it’ a boy? Would he have red hair like me? I smiled. I’d call him Daniel.

Hey, Dan! Catch!

I sat at the table, thinking about life and other stuff for longer than I realized, hardly noticing that the promised snowstorm had arrived. It started quietly, without any wind, so the loud knock on the door surprised me. I got up from the table and looked out the window, but whoever waited at the door was too close to the house. I couldn’t see anything except the falling snow. I knew it wasn’t Cavell. He would not have bothered to knock.

I opened the door and found myself face to face with Clarabelle.

“Hello, Gerry,” she grinned at me. “Did you miss me?”

“Um…” I stared at her. She was very pregnant. Her coat did not cover the bulge of her stomach.

“So?” she moved closer. “No kiss? Invite me in, at least! It‘s cold out here.”

“Um…uh…” I couldn’t take my eyes off her stomach, fascinated by the idea of what was growing inside of her. No, I‘m not an idiot, and of course I’ve seen pregnant women before and know all about where babies come from, but this was different. I’d never planted one myself before now. All I could think about was that Daniel was in there. Must be a tight fit, I thought. No room to move your arms.

Clarabelle smiled a little and reached up to touch my face, “Hey there, Cutie, snap out of it and fix me something to eat.”



The touch of her cold hand on my face reminded me of my brother, “Er…where’s Cavell?

“In jail.”

I shook my head, “No…he’s not. He’s out, and he‘s looking for you.”

She sighed, “So the stupid fool came here and talked to you, did he? He‘s such a moron! Gerry, I’m freezing and I‘m hungry. Fix me something to eat before I pass out.”

I nodded and took her inside. She sat down at the table, still wearing her coat, and watched me fix a salad. When I put the plate down in front of her, she looked annoyed, “Is this all? A salad? I’m starving. Can‘t you fry up some chicken? Or a pork chop?”

“I don’t have a stove.”

“You’ve got a job, haven’t you? What have you been doing with the money? Seems to me that a stove would have been high on the list of must haves. Tomorrow, Lover Boy, you go buy a stove. If I‘m going to live here, there are going to be some changes.”

It occurred to me that I was getting my first taste of married life with Clarabelle. I watched her bend close to the plate, eating too fast. I said, “I’m not sure about this, about us.”

She straightened up, blinking at me in surprise. “Excuse me? This thing I’m lugging around under my belt is all yours, Honey, and you have to take care of it. And me, too.”

“This is no place for a baby, or for you, either. Look around! Bare stone walls, no furnace, no kitchen, no room for a crib, or a decent bed.”

“I told you, there will be changes.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“I do. About 4,000. We’re going to plaster the walls, buy a crib, and a stove.”

“Clarabelle, I can’t…”

“I expect you to repay me, many times over. You have no idea how miserable I feel right now. Exhausted and hungry all the time! I hate having babies. I did it once before and decided that I would never do it again.”

“But…”

“That’s before I found about the gold.”

As I said, Cavell doesn’t bother knocking on any door. Sometimes, he doesn’t even bother with the doorknob, since one good kick with his booted foot will take out most of the screws in a door’s latch. And if there’s a bolt on the door, it hardly matters. I remember coming home from school one day and finding the kitchen door lying flat on the floor. The bolt, of course, still gripped the doorjamb tightly, all by itself, sticking out into empty air. There are such things as steel doors in steel frames, but my mother could not afford one of those.

On that particular day, as I recall, Cavell had stopped by the house to get something to eat and got annoyed because the kitchen door was locked. My mother cried about the door, so Cavell fixed it, but we stopped locking any of them. It was an uneasy truce.

I heard him coming, this time, and so did Clarabelle. She looked up at me with a strange expression on her face. Excitement was there, but also fear. Then she stood up to face him as he came inside, bringing the bitter cold in with him.

They stood there staring at each other for an entire minute, and I couldn’t tell if they were going to start punching or kissing. I was on my feet, too, ready to stop him if he made any move to hurt her. I had never felt so protective about anyone as I did about her during that minute.

But they didn’t touch each other.

Instead, Cavell slowly smiled. “As I live and breathe,” he said, “if it isn’t my long-suffering wife. And she’s got herself in the family way, too. Who’s the Daddy, Honey? I know it’s not me. Hmm…let me guess. Is it my goody, goody brother, who’s looking all nervous and antsy?”

“What are you doing here, Cavell?” she hissed at him. “Are the cops looking for you?”

“The cops are always looking for me. And I’m here, Mona, because I don’t trust you. But more than that, I have the divorce papers you sent me, all signed. You are now, officially, my ex-wife. So turn around and marry my brother right now. We want that kid to have his Daddy all legal.”

I started to shake my head, “Wait…it wouldn’t be legal. We need witnesses, and a license.”

“No you don’t. Tell him, Mona. I’m sure you looked up the details, didn’t you?”

“Where’s the toilet?” she said. “In here?”

She tossed her coat at Cavell, went into the bathroom and slammed the door. Cavell took her coat and his--the one that used to be mine--and threw them into the other room, that narrow little closet where I had my mattress.

“This country,” he said, turning back to me, “is enlightened. That’s what my lawyer said. That’s the word he used, ‘enlightened.’ It means that you can marry without any interference from City Hall. The only thing that you and Mona have to do is agree with each other that you want to be married, and it’s done.”

“That makes no sense. Children could marry.”

“Not our problem, Mary.” He opened the door to the bathroom, “Aren’t you done yet, woman? Get in here.”

Clarabelle yelled at him to shut the door, and she used a lot more than three words to tell him that. He didn’t shut the door. He just grinned. “Tsk, tsk! Where’d you learn those words, Honey? You‘ve got Mary all to blushing.”

I heard the toilet flush. I also heard Clarabelle grumbling as she came out of the bathroom and stood in front of me, “OK, OK. I’m here! What’s the rush?”

Cavell was still grinning, “Just want to see that it’s done. Take her hand, Mary.”

I glared at him, “You want the gold? Don’t call me Mary.”

Cavell rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Let‘s get this over with. I’ve got things to do.”

I looked at Clarabelle, reached for her hand, and smiled at her. “My name is Gervasio Alger Zygmunt, and I take thee…”

“Ramona Clarabella Filomena Cesaro…”

“…and I take thee, Ramona Clarabella Filomena, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to cherish until death do us part.”

She almost laughed, but stopped herself, “I, Ramona Clarabella Filomena, take thee, Gervasio Alger, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to cherish until death do us part.”

Cavell held out his hand, palm up. There were two rings. Clarabelle nodded, “Nice touch, Cavell. Gerry, give me your hand. With this ring, Gervasio, I thee wed.” She pushed the ring roughly over my knuckle.

I took the other ring and slipped it gently on her finger, “With this ring, Ramona Clarabella, I thee wed, and with it I bestow on you all the treasures of my mind, my heart, and my hand.”

Clarabelle blinked in surprise at my final words. “Well,” she hesitated, “so kiss me, husband. Then I need to lie down. I’m exhausted.”

On that wintry night in that cold, stone shack, I put my arms around the woman I did not love, and kissed the unfortunate mother of my son. I married her because my son was all that mattered to me, and because I wanted to be there when he was born.

And so I was.

There's not much action in this particular story (unlike some of my other stories--see below) but I thought I'd mention that the handful of pictures I post are a small fraction of the ones I take when working with my little actors. I have more than 10,000 pictures---probably closer to 15,000 'cause I haven't looked lately---in my Sims 2 storytelling folders. The mod I use the most is the one that allows me to direct their emotions (love, hate, friendship) so that they behave toward each other to suit the situation. I make heavy use of the pause button, watching them closely for the expression or gesture that I'm hoping for. Free will is always turned on, which makes for some hilarious situations that I might take advantage of, although I once had an entire household of sims die in a fire because fire fascinates the silly little idiots.

Stay tuned, however. Gerry gets into a whole heap of serious trouble.

Just to share: an action scene from a story called Ironsides. Yup, it was a battle

I showed Clarabelle to my tiny bedroom with the mattress on the floor, and she shuddered visibly, “You’ve got to be kidding!” She grabbed her coat off the mattress and pushed her way past me, returning to the main room and to Cavell. “He doesn’t even have a bed!” She yelled at him. “I am NOT sleeping on any floor. I’m going back to the resort.”

Cavell’s eyes changed, and I knew the look. I stepped between them.

His thin lips spread wide in an ugly grimace, “She stays,” he growled.

“I agree,” I said.

“I DON’T!” Clarabelle yelled out from behind me. “I am NOT some animal that you can lock up in a cage. I’m leaving now!”

I took her elbow and pulled her back into the bedroom where she yanked her arm free and struggled to put on her coat. I helped her with it, but only because the room was icy cold. Then I shut the door in Cavell’s face, which also shut out all the light. Clarabelle pushed at me in the dark, trying to get by, “Open the damn door!”

“Give me a minute,” I told her, as I dug for matches in my pocket and lit the tiny candle I kept on a shelf.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Gerry,” she panted, “you can forget it. You don’t own me! Got that? No one owns me! I don’t have to live in this…this rat hole.”

“You do if you want to get the inheritance. Remember the gold? Do you want it, or not? If you do, you have to stay. If not, there are plenty of other women around here who could take your place.”

She huddled in the coat, glaring at me, breathing hard, “Listen, Buster. We’re married. It’s your baby. Make no mistake; I’m going to get the gold. Doesn’t matter what other woman you drag in here now. This kid is your first born.”

“Clarabelle,” I said quietly, hoping that Cavell did not have his ear against the door, “he has fits, black rages. Stay here with me and be safe.”

“I know all about his temper. I can handle him.”

“No you can’t. Don’t make trouble. Tomorrow I will get you a real bed.”

She looked down at the mattress on the floor. It was an uninviting, crumpled mess of sheets and blankets. The stone walls around us smelled of the damp, musty earth. The candle flame danced weakly in a draft that came through an open seam between the roof and the wall.

Clarabelle mumbled to herself, “I hate this place. I hate you. I hate him. I hate this kid. I hate all of you and everything else in this miserable country.” She swayed on her feet.

I bent and straightened out the pillow and the covers on the bed, and then helped her to lie down. She was still wrapped in her fur coat, but I pulled the covers up to her chin. She grabbed my wrist. “Tomorrow!” she said grimly. “Tomorrow you will get me a nice bed and a nice stove.” Then she let me go and closed her eyes. I had won this battle only because she was exhausted.

I blew out the candle and left the room, shutting the door behind me.

Cavell was sitting at the table, eating the rest of the salad. I sank down into the other chair. I said, “I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s a new job. It pays better than the security job.”

“Just in time, then. Mona’s expensive. She’s always wanting things.”

“It’s the police academy.”

Cavell straightened up in his chair and set his fork down, “No you don’t, Mary. You’re not going to start any job with the police.”

“The Mayor got me the job. She’d be suspicious if I quit before I’d even started.”

He sat quiet for a long time, thinking it through. I stared out the window at the snowflakes drifting lazily down on the other side of the glass.

“Just keep in mind,” he said at last, “every day that you walk into that academy, that I’m back here alone with Mona and your little baby.” He paused, and then added, “Didn’t need to tell you that, did I?”

I looked around into his eyes and saw the incurable madness that burned in the brain behind them. “No,” I said. “You didn’t.”

Oh, poor Gerry What a horrible brother he has!



The suspense and drama more than makes up for any lack of action!

I'm the same with pictures - although I must admit I don't have nearly as many as you! Over 10000! I have a few hundred, although they're all just for one story (Solitaria) - I haven't written any other stories based on the Sims. I'm also exactly the same with the overuse of the pause button, but free will bothers me with storytelling picture-taking...especially when there's a big crowd, and one of them is primping up the back, while two others are just about to start attacking each other in the foreground, which means all the sims I've just painstakingly directed to sit down on couches leap up to watch the action. I might try leaving it on for future stories though.

I'll definitely check out some of your other stories sometime I like your style.

Thank you, Em. Some friends and I have written quite a few sim stories for our site and I hope you find the time to visit. I'm the one who goes nuts with pictures, though.

Yup, free will can make things difficult a lot of times. I have found myself yelling in frustration at the computer screen, and yet I cannot bring myself to turn it off. LOL, these pixel people are too much like pets.

I slept with my head in my arms on the table, and woke to the grey light of morning feeling stiff and sore. Cavell was gone, and I vaguely remembered that he had stood up from the table at some point in the middle of the night, said something I didn‘t now remember, and had left.

The car pool to the academy, in the meantime, would arrive at 8. I peered at my watch…just after 6 AM. The mini fridge held a few cans of insta-meal, half a head of lettuce, a quart of milk, and a box of cereal.

I went into the bedroom to check on Clarabelle. She was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. I said, “Do you have a phone? Do you have any cash on you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I have to leave for work soon. I just want to be sure that you can order some groceries or carry-out.”

“I’ll drive into town.”

“Cavell’s gone. If you came in your own car, he might have taken it. There’s too much snow to walk.”

She groaned in dismay.

“Let me borrow your phone for a few minutes so that I can order your bed.”

She pulled at her coat, looking for a pocket, found it, and handed me the phone. The first call I made was to Waylon Fairchild, telling him that I needed my walls covered with wallboard and paint. I also wanted linoleum on the floor. I wanted all of this as soon as possible. He said he’d be out in an hour to get measurements. I asked him where I could get some inexpensive furniture, like beds, to be delivered immediately. Chesterport, he said, and looked up a number for me. It took me longer to deal with the Beaverwood Furniture Store in Chesterport. They finally agreed to a delivery in the afternoon when I told them to check with Mayor Clayton. She’d vouch for me.

Clarabelle had gone into the main room and was eating a bowl of cereal. I handed her the phone just as my ride to the academy started honking loudly from the street.

Grabbing her hand, spoon and all, I kissed it lightly, “I’ll be back around 3. Stay out of trouble.” I ran out the door to catch my ride. As I had suspected, Clarabelle’s blue van was nowhere in sight.

All day I worried about what might be going on at my house, hardly paying attention to what people were saying to me. Fortunately, the first day at the academy was mostly taken up with orientation, getting a physical, cadet uniforms, books, and a test on ethics.

During the lunch break I used a public phone to call Roberta. I told her I’d given her as a reference for an order of furniture.

“They’ve already called me, Gerry. And I said you were good for it, but I took the liberty of asking what sort of furniture you’d ordered.”

I didn’t say anything because I had no defense, at least none I could admit to.

“A crib, Gerry?”

“I got married last night.”

“Tell me her name, Gerry. We’re a free and easy society around here, but witnesses are still recommended, for various reasons.”

“Her name is Ramona Clarabella Filomena Cesaro. She’s pregnant and it’s my baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I am. I wanted to marry her. Everything’s fine. The lunch break is over, Roberta. I have to get back. Thanks for helping me out. Bye.” I hung up carefully. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I was afraid of questions about my brother because I’m not good at lying and I would have to lie.

I needed this job for more than the money. I was praying that I’d learn something useful, like how to deal with hostage situations.

I came out the side door, moving fast, anxious to catch my ride home, and almost knocked Christy down.

“Ouch!”

“Christy! I didn’t see you.”

“No problem. I heal fast.” She smiled easily and said, “I just stopped by to see a friend of mine. Komei. He’s the desk sergeant. And since I’m here, are you done for the day? I can give you a ride home. I’ll help you cook my dinner.”

I’d completely forgotten about my date with Christy. “Can’t do it,” I said slowly. “I‘m real sorry, but I have to break the date.”

She frowned. “Fine. See you around, Gerry.” She was obviously angry.

“Christy, wait! I have to explain something.” Whatever Christy’s opinion of me was now, it was about to get a whole lot worse. I took a deep breath as she turned to face me again.

“OK, Giovanni,” she said wearily, “Let’s hear it.”

“She’s pregnant.”

Christy started to speak twice, both times closing her mouth with the words unsaid. Finally, the third time, she got it out, “Tamara?”

“No. It’s Clarabelle Machk, the woman who told everyone she was my wife. She is. We got married last night.”

Christy’s eyes narrowed. In a tone coming straight from the deep freeze, she said, “Congratulations, Gerry. Have a happy life.”

She spun around and walked away, down the steps and around the side of the building to the parking lot. A few minutes later I saw her car pull out on the highway and disappear into the distance.

I stood looking at the empty highway for several minutes after she was gone. Now that the news was out, it would spread fast: Gervasio Zygmunt, the Heel of Hazelton. Think of Daniel, I told myself. Instead, for a moment or two, I thought of Tina.

A hand dropped heavily on my shoulder. It was Sergeant Tellerman. “Hey, Zygmunt, what’re you thinking about? Christy? Did she tell you about the footprints?”

“What footprints?”

“Around her house. She’s seen them twice, the second time just this morning, in the fresh snow under the living room windows. I told her not to worry, that we’d put a patrol car in the area and drive down her street a couple of times at night. A.J.’s good. He’s on that patrol, and if there’s some punk trying to catch a peek at the girls, A.J. will get him.”

“A.J.?” I said, distracted.

“Yeah, A.J., your instructor from this morning. He probably told you his name is Abjiheet, but pay no attention to that.” Tellerman winced at the sound of a car horn. “There’s Marylena, punching her horn and pointing a finger at you. Better run. See you tomorrow.”

“Sure. Tomorrow.”

I went down the steps to the car and climbed in beside Marylena. She leaned on her horn one more time, just for good measure, and said, “Since this is your first day, I waited. Tomorrow, I might leave without you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I nodded.

Now that my place in the department’s pecking order was firmly established, she lightened up, “Want to stop in at Arlo’s for a drink and to meet some of the other guys?”

“I can’t tonight, Marylena. Thanks for asking, but I have to get home to my wife.”

“Wife? Someone told me you weren’t married.”

“Most people don’t know yet. I’m still making calls about it.”

“Is she local? We’re a very small town. You’re the first new face we’ve seen in a while, except for the tourists passing through on their way to the resort. So who is it, your wife?”

“Clarabelle Machk. She’s from up north, too, so you probably don’t know her.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Well, congratulations, anyway. And here‘s your mailbox. See you in the morning, Gerry.”

The snow was deeper here at the top of the hill, too deep to run through, but I tried anyway, leaving ragged footprints behind me as I hurried around the rocks to my house.

The footprints in the snow around Christy’s house were no mystery to me. I knew Cavell too well. Somehow, one way or another, I had to stop him.

Where else had he been? What else had he been doing? I had convinced myself that the promise of the gold would keep him quiet for a while, but I should have remembered his restless nature. It was beyond him to sit still and wait patiently for anything. I shook my head, realizing for the first time since he’d been convicted, that those years in prison must have been torture for him.

But I didn’t care. He deserved it. And as I tramped heavily through the wet snow, I was not feeling any sympathy. Only anger.

When I came around the side of my house I saw him coming out of it, and I heard Clarabelle yelling at him to shut the door.

Good. She sounded her usual self, and my biggest worry was out of the way.

I charged forward and shoved Cavell hard, “You want the gold, you stay away from them! All of them! Every single one of them!” I shoved him again. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you’re locked up for the rest of your miserable life.”

“I go where I want,” he growled, knocking my hands aside, “and I do what I want.” He leaned forward, his wild eyes as cold as the wind that blew through our clothes, “And I will get that gold, Mary! Don’t touch me again. Ever.”

He pushed me out of the way and disappeared around the corner of the house, headed for the road. I watched him go, forcing myself to straighten my fingers out of the fists that I had raised toward his face. I was shaking with fury, and suddenly found myself wrestling with the fear that I might become like him if I ever gave in completely to that anger. We were, after all, brothers, and might share more in our blood than I dared to think.

“You will never be like him,” I repeated to myself, more than once. Then another gust of wind reminded me that I was standing outside without a coat. I shivered and went inside.

“Close the DOOR!” she yelled at me. “In! Out! Make a decision!”

I caught the handle, pulled the door shut, and looked around the room again. The walls were bright white. The room smelled like paint. Clarabelle was watching TV.

It sounded like a soap opera. It looked like a soap opera.

“How can you stand the smell in here?” I said. “You should open the window. And where did the TV come from?”

“Shhh!” She leaned forward awkwardly on the couch, concentrating on the TV.

Couch? Oh, yes, I did order a couch along with the beds and the crib. But I had definitely NOT ordered a TV. I looked at the crib and could not stop myself from smiling. I stepped closer and looked inside, as if I expected someone to smile back at me, but obviously not. Clarabelle still carried him under her heart.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her, worried about the smell of the paint.

She glanced at me, annoyed. “Hungry. I ordered pizza, but it just didn’t sit right…you know…here.” She put a fist to her chest.

Heartburn, I suspected. With a belly as big as hers was now, all full of Daniel, I could not imagine where a slice of pizza would fit. I said, “I’ll fix you some soup, very mild. That should help.”

“Great,” she sneered, then turned her eyes back to the TV, apparently fascinated by a commercial about shaving cream. Cartoon whiskers were dancing on a guy’s chin.

I cracked the window to let in some air, then looked through our new refrigerator and found a can of chicken. I chopped it up and added it to a pot of water with noodles. I left it all to simmer on our new stove while I went to change out of my cadet uniform.

Hold it! I stopped on the spot, turned around and stared at the shiny new refrigerator and the shiny new pot on the shiny new stove. New refrigerator? New stove? They were not part of the order I’d placed this morning.

“Clarabelle.”

“What?” she snapped, rolling her eyes.

“Where did the TV, the refrigerator, and the stove come from?”

She grinned and winked at me. “When you placed your order this morning, you didn’t say anything about appliances. We need them. I called them right back and added to the order. A trash compactor, too. Take my word for it, Honey; babies generate a lot of smelly trash. Stop worrying. I told you I had some money saved, and I don‘t want to see the repo man any more than you do.”

I shut my eyes for a moment, wondering just how many weeks it would take to pay for all of this. Then I looked at my wife. She sat in front of the soap opera, chewing on her lip, wrinkling her brow and otherwise commiserating with the characters of the story. They were more real to her than Daniel. At least at the moment. Maybe when he’s in her arms, she’ll feel differently about him. And maybe when he’s in her arms, I’ll feel differently about her.

Clarabelle complained about the misery of her condition right from the beginning, and as she grew ever more uncomfortable, the complaining got louder, until the only peace in our house was while she slept. OK, sure, I admit that she did look mighty awkward. It was obvious why her back and her ribs hurt all the time. And I am still surprised that the skin of her stomach could stretch as much as it did. Tight as a drum, it was. Hurt me just to look at it.

Still, I’d gotten the idea from somewhere that most women took all of this rather for granted, as part of the job of being a woman and having the babies that they all seemed to want.

Anyway, I tried to be understanding, and did everything I could to satisfy her demands. I kept the refrigerator stocked with the hardboiled eggs and crackers she wanted almost every hour, even in the middle of the night. I rubbed her shoulders, her back, and her feet. I bought new sheets and blankets for her bed. I opened windows for her. I closed windows for her. I piled pillows on the couch for her. When I finished my police training in the academy and received my first assignment to a car as a patrol officer, my excitement was severely dampened by the prospect of telling Clarabelle about it. I thought she’d be upset, because my shift was 3 to 11, but she only shrugged, “So you’ll be here to cook breakfast and lunch. Maybe Cavell will feel like cooking dinner.”

He might, and he did.

Unexpectedly, Cavell had calmed down. In fact, he’d grown unusually quiet, and spent more time at the house, usually watching TV but sometimes just staring out the window, his eyes empty of all expression.

Once, when Clarabelle saw me watching him, she leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry. He gets like this sometimes. He’ll snap out of it and be his old fun self.”

I could only hope that he never snapped out of it. I preferred him this way.

Then, once more, in the middle of the night, Clarabelle woke me up with her cursing.

“Crackers?” I muttered wearily. “I’ll get them. Take it ea…”

“NO! Damn you! Call the doctor! The water broke and the contractions are cutting me in two.”

“Phone!” I yelled, stumbling out from under the covers. “Where’s the phone? Who’s got the phone? Cavell! Cavell! Have you got the phone? I don’t know where the phone is?”

Cavell came in from the other room, drawn by the commotion, “I don’t know where I put the phone,” he said. “It might be in the bathroom.”

“We have to find it! Call the doctor.”

“Who’s the doctor? And I can’t call him without a phone.”

“Look for it! Check the bathroom.”

Clarabelle interrupted, yelling at us, “Shut UP, you idiots! Help me. Get over here. Aaaaaargh! It HURTS, you BASTARDS!”

It was too late to get the doctor. Clarabelle had given birth once before, and apparently that’s why she gave birth a great deal faster this time. Or so I heard some time later. All things considered, it went smoothly, if I do say so myself. Messy, but smoothly. From Clarabelle’s point of view, of course, it was pure hell. She told me that repeatedly.

I remember that at some point I kept telling her to push harder, because, as I told her, “I can see the top of his head!”

“MORON!” she screamed at me, “It’s all out of my control. Totally! You are on your own, Buster! If you want this kid, then hold out your hands because here he COOOOOOOMMMMMMES!”

Then, suddenly, there was a new voice in the house. He coughed a little as he tested the very strange concept of air, and then he cried heartily. “Hi, Daniel,“ I said, smiling at him as I held him close against my chest, patting his tiny face gently with a towel. Cavell found the cell phone and called down to Chesterport for a doctor. Then he piled blankets on Clarabelle who kept muttering, “Never again. Never, ever am I doing that again.”

For me, however, in that moment as I held my son, I decided that this was the most wonderful night of my life.

random question how did you make the guy hold the gun?


Aaaw that's so sweet :D

There are some downloads designed to attach to sim hands. The creators must base those objects on similar objects already in the game that sims hold, like cooking pots and books.

The trick is that sims aren't aware that they have anything in their hands. They wave their hands around like normal. So the gun, or the sword or the briefcase, might go right through their own head or the body of the one they're talking to.

Example from Ironsides...ouch


For pictures, I had to wait carefully for the most realistic looking position and then hit the pause button quick.

And thanks for reading my story.

Around midnight a couple of weeks later, I sat down at the table and watched Cavell eat a bowl of cereal. Clarabelle and Daniel were asleep, both of them safe and healthy. I’d made sure of that, as I always did, the moment I got home from work.

Cavell was intent on his cereal and ignored me. After a few minutes, I said, “They’re looking for you.”

“They won’t find me,” he shrugged. “Just keep your mouth shut.”

“Police detectives aren’t stupid, Cavell. The Pleasantview district knows you were headed this way. They know how you think. And they know about me.”

His grip on the spoon tightened angrily. “They don’t know anything! Keep your mouth shut and don’t walk around looking nervous. Be happy. We‘re gonna be rich as soon as Mona makes another baby.”

I started to protest, but all I said was, “Sure.”

Cavell got up from the table and grabbed the red coat from where he’d thrown it across the couch.

“Where’re you going?” I demanded. “Stay here. Stay out of sight.”

He hesitated, hand on the doorknob, and then looked around at me with an ugly smile, “You‘re cute, Mary, but I want the company of a real woman, so I’m going down to the resort. I saw a couple of good ones down there.” He pulled the door wide, letting in cold air. “Don’t wait up.”

The door slammed shut behind him and Daniel whimpered in his crib. I went over and watched him for a few minutes, but he didn’t wake up.

So small, I thought. And unbearably helpless. Does he know that? Does he worry about it? I leaned closer, studying his sleeping face. “It’s only for a little while,” I whispered. “You’ll get bigger soon, a lot bigger.”