Love Among the Thorns (5 page)

           
“Sure, Pam. I’ll be down this evening. But, don’t tell him, okay. He’s expecting me tomorrow.”

           
“Fine with me, Mrs. Vincent. I don’t have a big mouth anyways.”

           
Something just didn’t feel right. Although I had located Jeff, and Pam said he looked tired, I just had to see for myself. I called into work and packed a light bag.
 

Getting to the cabin would take most of the day. I slipped on a dress and threw a sweater around my shoulders. Fannie had arrived. She was standing on the front porch when I went to turn off the porch light. Her wise eyes displayed concern for Jeff. I gave her a brief run-down.
 
“...and, if Jeff calls, don’t tell him where I am. Take a message, then text me.” Fannie was a dream come true and the best sitter in the world for my two little monsters. As she opened the screened door to go inside she offered words of encouragement. “Don’t worry ‘bout them kids, Celeste! You just find that boy, ya hear!”

           
While I was backing out of the garage, Clint, of whom I was severely resentful, drove up blocking my departure. When he found out where I was going, he begged me to tag along.

Because he was Jeff’s lover, I felt he had no right to take part in the search. Clint tried to assure me that if Jeff didn’t make love to him, he would have found someone else kindred to himself. That fact did not ease my burden. I allowed Clint to make the trip, but not with me. For his safety, he couldn’t be near me. He infuriated me, and I found him insufferable.

           
I drove for hours, stopping only for gas. I wasn’t hungry anyway. Within a few hours, I found myself standing in the aromatic wooded area of the tranquil lake. Pam was surprised to see me so soon after our conversation. Happily, she walked me to the cabin and unlocked the door.
 
Once the door swung open, she turned to leave. “You and Mr. Vincent are going to have a good time without them kids,” she snickered. “Mr. Clint is at the office drinking coffee, so I’d better get back.

           
I walked inside the still cabin. Jeff’s things were packed and sat neatly by the door. My gaze fell upon the table and I noticed that he had been writing a letter. The lodge’s stationary was sprawled on the table.
 
Looking for signs of Jeff’s whereabouts, I walked through the cabin then went back outside to look for the SUV.

Shielding my eyes from the evening sun, I surveyed the area. Alarm washed over me and I rushed back to the lodge to find Grandpa Rick and Pam. I asked them if they had seen Jeff, or if they knew where he could be. Grandpa Rick insisted that I slow down and eat, but I couldn’t allow myself to become so selfish. Rick needed to drive me around the lake area so I could search for Jeff. I didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that we were burning valuable daylight.

           
Grandpa Rick was terribly overweight. His overly tanned skin was weather beaten and wrinkled. Many years of camping experience made him a valuable asset to me. He hobbled out to his rusty old van, smoking a pipe. I rushed around to the passenger’s side and made myself comfortable among the fishing poles and rowing oars. The gritty sand on the floorboard was irritating, I tried to ignore the sound and feel beneath my feet.

           
Rick drove up the road and took a left toward the beach area. I had never seen the lake in late October. It was a moving portrait of natural beauty. The wind was strong against the water and the eerie cries of the gulls added to the tightness in my shoulders. It was obvious a horrible storm had sabotaged the area the night before. Trees lay parallel with the ground hopelessly defeated by the strong winds. The sand was tightly packed against the deserted beach. We had driven for what seemed like hundreds of miles. Suddenly, an anxious sensation seized my stomach. I instructed Rick to drive to an area near a grove of trees neighboring a steep hill. We drove slowly desperately searching the area.

           
Evening was turning to night and the sun was beginning to set. In the distance, I caught a flicker of the sun’s reflecting off something shiny. “Grandpa Rick! Slow down. I think I saw something.” I squinted toward the glare of the sun. “There, in that grove of trees just off the hill.”

           
Grandpa’s dim blue eyes twinkled into a smile. “It’s just a streamlet, Celeste. Sometimes people walk down there to fish. I doubt that Jeff would go down there. It’s too dangerous for a city boy.”

           
“Pull over,” I insisted. “Jeff is a thrill seeker. Its possible he would go down there to fish.” I pointed toward a grove of thick trees where the hill almost hid the mildly rushing stream.

           
Sighing loudly, Grandpa Rick pulled over as far as he dared. There was a risk of getting his van stuck in the pliant mud. Impatiently, I swung the door open and leaped to the ground. I was right; I had indeed spotted Jeff’s vehicle. From the looks of the dried tire tracks, he had driven down the hill earlier that day.
 
The chilling winds blew my dress about my body as I stood on the hill. Looking down the hill, I could see that the SUV was covered with wet leaves and broken limbs. I didn’t see Jeff anywhere. Almost sliding down the hill, I made efforts to get near the vehicle. Without warning, the air became still all around me. Brambles tore at my clothing, and my breathing grew labored.
 

Tumbling downhill as if in slow motion, my goal was in sight. I had a feeling that his automobile held the key to his whereabouts. As I got closer, I could vaguely see through the darkly tinted window. The door was locked, and my heart sank. I realized I wouldn’t be able to get inside. There was still a chance Jeff was asleep inside the car, however, I couldn’t tell with the debris cloaking the vehicle. A numbing chill encompassed my body and I pulled my sweater tightly around my shoulders.
 

           
With my hands, I pushed the heavy limbs from the car, then I wiped away leaves that obstructed my view.

I don’t remember what happened after I saw Jeff’s blood stained body on the front seat. The horrible sight collided with my brain. Vaguely, I remembered being seated in the Game Warden’s Jeep and being given something to drink.
 

           
In a nearly nonchalant way, a local Sheriff gave me the verdict. “Mrs. Vincent.” He cleared his throat. “It would seem that your husband took his life this morning about dawn. We found a thirty-two revolver in the seat, and a sealed note beside him. You can read it when you’re ready.” He tossed the letter in my lap as if it were a meaningless piece of paper. “We’ll need that back after you’ve finished. We’ll return it to you.”

           
My eyes silently talked, as my soul grieved out loud. I was not capable of speech. If I never verbalize the words there might be a chance that he would still be—I wanted to wake up from this unpleasant dream. There was no way this could be happening. “Jeff!” I called. “Where is he? I want to see him!” I threw senseless words together as I felt my world closing in around me. In my stupor, I broke and ran clumsily toward the car only to be collected by two large men. “Jeff! Jeff! How could you do this to us? What about, Joey Jeff! Melissa needs you,” I blubbered. “You bastard!” I fell to my knees and felt Pam supporting my limp body. “You selfish bastard!”
 

           
Again, I was placed in the Jeep. Pamela tried to calm me, but I rambled on like a doddering idiot. “Did you see what my Jeff did? Jeff!” I whimpered. Soon, my voice was stripped of sound. Hoarse, and barley audible phrases, fought their way to freedom. I clutched the arm of the Sheriff standing beside me. “Please, tell me he’ll be all right.”

           
The Sheriff picked up the letter and placed it back in my hands, while searching my eyes for approval. I wasn’t sure I had enough stamina to read the letter. Repressed guilt affected my ability to think, the fact that the dark was fast approaching didn’t help, I tore the envelope open, afraid of what I might find. Making out the scrawl on the stationary was difficult. The wind folded the edges making it difficult to read. I don’t know why I even bothered to look at the paper. His words were always engraved in my heart. My eyes surveyed the grim faces of those around me. In the background, Clint’s face had turned a bruised red, and he paced nervously. His fingers trembled uncontrollably as his hand covered his mouth.

With their consenting expressions, I attempted to focus my eyes on the paper. I read silently:

 
“To my beloved children: I was not ashamed of what I was. I only wanted happiness for all concerned, even at the risk of my own life. To my wife, Celeste: My life and love for you had grown so rich and meaningful that I’d rather be dead than cause you shame. You are an admirable mother and a wonderful wife. I wish I could have been different, if only just for you. You deserved the best. Now, go find a real man for my children.”

I was shaking all over when I finally finished reading the letter. By that time, I was no stranger to pain. Even so, wave after wave of sorrow erupted from my soul.
 

           
Years elapsed and I was slow to heal. There will never be another Jeffery Vincent, devoted father, beloved husband, and friend.

The End

In Pursuit of Passion, Part 2

Will Celeste Vincent be able to honor her late husband’s wishes and find herself a real man?