Murder My Love (10 page)

The ensuing silence echoed all the way home. Rita squirmed in her seat, unable to fathom what had just happened to her. The trips to the woods became frequent. It was a recurring nightmare she tried to forget but it endlessly haunted her. That her father continued to leer at her compounded her misery. She sealed her recollections in the darkest corner of her mind hoping they would never surface. The trips didn’t end until Rita met George. It took little time for Rita to realize that George was her ticket out of misery. She moved in with him. After the birth of her first child she convinced him that they should leave that god-forsaken town and find a new life elsewhere, anywhere but Bass Lake. They told everyone they were married, but Rita maintained the name Quigley. She never could explain why she did that. George was content to have in his bed a beautiful young woman who gave him all the comfort he needed. She gave him pleasure whenever he requested it but, for her, the act was joyless. The traumatic memories of her father’s truck lasted for decades, memories that interfered with her relationships, and memories she tried to erase. They were never truly deleted. They were merely sealed away, encapsulated like amber, waiting for a provocation to make them reappear. Her happiness and satisfaction centered on being a nurturing mother. Her introduction to sex disallowed for any feelings of intimacy. The relationship with George was based on mutual need.

As she reflected on her painful past, Rita was standing next to Conrad holding a cold towel to his nose and wondering what thoughts were coursing through his mind. What unspeakable acts were there in his life that he could not divulge, even to her?

Chapter 9

Unlike the glamour of Hollywood, New York or Las Vegas, the humdrum of life in a rural town like Zephyr Cove could be perceived by some to be dull. It was not so for Rita Quigley. Performing the ordinary chores of raising a family and doing them well contented her. She took pride in it. She enjoyed seeing her children grow and learn at school. It was comforting for her to know that her children would grow up to be educated and have a chance at life. They would have choices that she never could have imagined. Cooking for them was a joy. Her relationship with George was not the least bit fiery but it was civil. He made few demands of her and she had learned not to harbor any expectations. She cherished summertime when they often went on picnics. They’d hike in the woods to find a clearing where they could swim in the cold estuary. She always packed a sumptuous basket of food. Lunch in the woods was an eating orgy. The outdoors was exhilarating. Except for the memory of her first horrid driving lesson, she was always comfortable being deep in the woods away from civilization. She wished she had more money, but its absence didn’t consume her. Most of all she enjoyed her limited friendships and her employment.

For all the years she lived in Zephyr Cove her most abiding friendship was with Frieda Zimmer. Her life took a right turn one day when she stopped by to purchase eggs. There was another customer on the porch engaging Frieda in conversation. The customer was a slim woman about forty years old. Her ash blond hair was short cropped. Her face was pleasing and her thin lips formed an engaging smile. She seemed tall, but it was only because she was so thin, She wore jeans and tennis shoes. A vertical striped print blouse fluttered in the summer breeze. She wore limited makeup and it was subtly applied. Rita had seen her from time to time in town, at the gas station, at the bank or in the grocery store. There never was an occasion to start a conversation so there was no reason to pursue her. It was Frieda who made the introduction. “Come Rita, come on up. I want you to meet Linda.”

Slowly Rita ascended the four steps to the porch and extended her hand.

Rita’s figure was ample. Delivering four children into the world did not destroy her figure but it expanded it in all the wrong places. Nevertheless, she considered herself attractive. Her figure was a far cry from what it had been in Maine but she rationalized that few women could make a claim that they maintained their teenage figure for life. In any case her blond hair was as lustrous as it ever was. That alone made her feel good about herself. That, together with a radiant smile and brilliant blue eyes distracted anyone from closely examining her figure.

“How do you do? My name is Rita, Rita Quigley.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Linda Greenwell. I think I’ve seen you at the high school, haven’t I?”

“Probably.”

Rita proceeded to tell her that she was a fixture at the school because her four children marched through it over the years.

“That must keep you busy,” she said.

“Yeah, but it’s getting easier now that they’re getting older.

“How old are they?”

“My oldest is twenty-five and the youngest is eighteen,” she proudly said.

Linda looked at her sideways and said, “You don’t look old enough.”

Rita discovered that Linda had no children. She was new in town. She was taking courses at the community college in Livingston and chose to settle in Zephyr Cove because it was so affordable. She had spent time at the high school volunteering in the cafeteria.

“What are you studying?” she asked.

“Nutrition.”

“I should do that. I love to cook,” Rita said.

“Why don’t you?”

“I think I’m too old to go to college,” she said as she turned to look at the open road. She hoped by looking away she wouldn’t betray the fact that she never graduated grade school, let alone high school.

It was an innocent first meeting. They continued to engage in conversation with each other and with Frieda. They searched for common interests. There seemed to be none. Linda had lived in Stowe, in northern Vermont. The town subsisted on the skiing industry. Linda claimed to have two left feet so she could never be an instructor and she refused to take the menial jobs that the resorts offered, so she moved to Burlington and got a job as a secretary. It lasted for several years until she was suffocated by boredom. She bounced from one boring job to another finding no enjoyment in any. Her life was not the least bit fulfilling, so she saved enough money to go back to college and get a degree. At the beginning any degree would have been suitable, but soon after she matriculated she chose Nutrition. Rita listened attentively, almost mesmerized by this woman who seemed to have so much nerve and desire. She seemed to be so determined and in charge of her life. She was drawn to her in a way she had never experienced before with anyone.

On weekends they would visit each other or meet at the Zimmer farm. One time Rita would serve coffee and a homemade cake. Another time Linda would bake a pie and invite Rita to share it with her. They would sit in her kitchen for hours and tell each other stories about their childhood, their ambitions and their frustrations. Linda always insisted that Rita take home the uneaten portion of pie for her children. She’d laugh and say it wouldn’t be helpful for a nutritionist to gain weight during the semester. It might jeopardize her grades. They’d laugh and then they’d give each other a hug, a kiss on the cheek and go their separate ways. It remained a cordial friendship for many months going on to a year. It all changed dramatically one evening during the first cold snap of autumn.

It was Linda who took the first step. Rita was at the kitchen table sipping the last drop of coffee when she rose to leave. Linda went to her to say good-bye as she often did. She gave her a warm hug but this time instead of a peck on her cheek she kissed her passionately on the mouth. Rita’s first impulse was to freeze. She didn’t. Instead, an awakening took place inside her that warmed every corner of her body. She felt desire like she had never felt before. Every cell in her body seemed to be on fire. Her mind began to reel. Her body felt limp and yet, she felt light as if she would float away. It was a tidal wave of emotion that swept over her. It was confusion. It was enlightenment. It was magical. It was an awareness of self. For the first time in her life she thought she understood who she was. It was ecstasy. When Rita left Linda’s home soon after that kiss she knew that she would return. She knew she would finally be fulfilled. It was only a matter of time.

The next week Rita called and asked if she could come visit. Linda was circumspect. She didn’t say yes right away. Yet she didn’t say no, either. Finally, she said to Rita, “You know what this means?”

“Yes,” she replied like a little girl anticipating a cookie from her mother. “We need to be discrete.”

“I know.”

“Then come whenever you can.”

Rita didn’t know how to prepare herself. She looked in her bathroom mirror and wondered what should she do. Should she put on makeup? She didn’t know how. Should she purchase a new dress? That wouldn’t be discrete. Should she get a new hairdo? That would be obvious. She decided to be herself. After all, Linda had kissed her without any special encouragement.

The liaison was beyond anything Rita could have imagined. Linda took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom. Slowly, deliberately and excruciatingly methodically she removed Rita’s clothing piece by piece. Linda then stripped naked. She took Rita to her bed and lay down beside her. The touching, caressing, and fondling was joyful beyond measure. It was more than her wildest dream or fantasy. Rita reached a peak of ecstasy that she had never experienced with a man. She looked at Linda. She looked at her face, deep into her eyes. She wanted to say she loved her but she had never used those words before. She began to say something when Linda held up her index finger and placed it gently on Rita’s lips. She whispered, “I know.”

They fell asleep in each others’ arms.

Chapter 10

The relationship between Rita and Linda began on a high note. The months and years following were tumultuous. Rita had almost completed raising four children when she discovered her true sexual identity. She had wasted so many years in a state of nothingness and now that she was approaching middle age, she wanted to make up for all the lost years. Conflicting emotions dominated every waking moment of every day of her life. She could no longer bear the thought of spreading her legs for a boorish man. As infrequent as she and George had sex—she refused to call it making love—the thought of climbing into bed with him became repugnant. She found excuses. She slept in a room other than their bedroom. She feigned symptoms of menopause. She claimed she was ill. George tried desperately to understand her and as reasonable and passive as he was, his need went unfulfilled. She entertained divorce but it was George who terminated the marriage. It was simple because it was common law, as they never legally consummated it. One day he walked out of the house never to return. He took almost nothing with him except a few articles of clothing and whatever tools he could pack in the trunk of his car. He not only abandoned Rita, he severed his relationship with his children. It was a guillotine break.

At first, Rita felt pangs of guilt. She was filled with remorse. She questioned her own behavior and wondered if it was reasonable of her to have carried on as she did. Guilt lasted but a few months. Her visits to Linda’s house became more frequent. The more frequent they became the less she thought of George. Their meeting no longer took place only on weekends; they occurred during the week. There were some weeks when they met virtually every evening. The encounters escalated. They became all consuming, more passionate, and more experimental. Her desire to be in the arms of her lover, who was also her tutor, dominated her life. Rita wanted to be one with Linda, devoured by her, and loved by her. She was insatiable. More than anything Rita became possessive. She became jealous of every person who encountered Linda, no matter how innocent the reason.

Linda was not unaware of their relationship’s trajectory. She was comfortable with having a woman in her life near her home. But, she had a life outside of Zephyr Cove. She was attending college and was away for most of the day. Sometimes she’d remain at school and spend extra time at the library, arriving home very late. On those nights she would be greeted with a long meandering message on her answering machine, the gist of which invariably dealt with Rita’s longing for her and begging to know when they could get together. Linda had the best of both worlds. Her fear was having their relationship exposed. Vermont was a liberal state but small towns had not yet embraced the reality of open same-sex relationships. She very much did not want to live clandestinely or hide the desires with which she was comfortable. Graduation was nearing and she feared it. Unless she immediately got a job she would be more available to Rita, and wondered how that would affect her relationship.

There were times when Rita had pangs of guilt for her children who would no longer have their father’s affection. It didn’t seem to matter. The children adapted rather quickly. The oldest, Sean, ran off and got married soon after graduating from high school. He moved to Maine with his new bride. The second oldest waited two years after school to tie the knot. She moved to Idaho. The two remaining were so consumed by school and sports they hardly took notice. Ryan, the middle child, was heavily into sports. Rita could never understand where he derived his athletic abilities. The youngest girl, Sheila, was in her late teens and shut out everything in the world except magazines, cosmetics and movies. They hardly noticed their father’s absence.

Soon after her graduation, Linda found a job in the profession of her choosing. She began working as a nutritionist in the state prison. It was a civil service job with commensurate pay. It was located a full forty minute drive from her home but she rationalized that it was closer than her college. So far as she was concerned, life was perfect. She was earning a living, paltry as it was. She had a lover, needy as she might be. And she had friends. One special friend in particular was Conrad. It was inevitable that Rita would introduce Linda to him.

Conrad had graduated high school when the unexpected happened. Hank awoke one day and ambled to the chicken coop to gather eggs as he had done for the better part of fifty years. He stumbled and collapsed to the ground without uttering a word. When he failed to return to the house, Frieda went out to search for him. She found him on the floor of the coop. He was dead. She was immediately torn between grief and relief. Her marriage was tempestuous and her husband was hideously cruel to her son. But he worked hard and gave them a reasonably comfortable life. He was buried within two days without a wake. Frieda didn’t want to suffer the expense for a ritual that she felt no one would attend. The subsequent months were sheer turmoil. Frieda could not manage the farm. The simplest chores of caring for chickens overwhelmed her. The world she knew vanished. She sunk into a deep depression. Conrad made a valiant attempt to manage the farm, but he was physically and emotionally ill equipped to carry on the onerous chores. The farm quickly ran fallow. Conrad accepted every menial job in town just to survive. It was Linda who suggested that he open a beauty parlor. They had become kindred souls. When Linda and Conrad were together, Rita would marvel at how they shared a distinct vocabulary. How the cadence of their voices changed. How it seemed they spoke a different language. She wanted to be a party to it. “You love to do hair, Conrad. Why don’t you open a beauty parlor?” asked Linda.

“In this town?” he squealed.

“Why not? Rita and I will come.”

“Do it,” Rita chimed in. “We’ll tell all our friends.” It was a lie, as they had very few mutual friends. Certainly not as many as Frieda.

The salon was not an instant success. Most of the ladies in town could never see themselves in his establishment. There was the problem of explaining the expense to their husbands. The refrain heard around town was,

“Comb your own god damn hair! Why do you need a fruitcake to do it?”

There was no rebuttal to that kind of disparagement. Most housewives wistfully passed by his storefront imagining what they might look like had they gone in. Rita and Linda were not so constrained. They frequented Conrad’s emporium. Sometimes they would meet in his salon. It was an excuse to be seen together. They exited looking younger, happier and more content with themselves. It showed on their faces. They seemed to glow. The word around town was that Conrad was taking care of his mother; he was assuming his responsibilities. Slowly the women of the town threw caution to the wind and joined in. In deference to Frieda, they spread word of Conrad’s salon, and one by one women from neighboring towns gravitated to the only beauty parlor within miles. Frieda could not bring herself to say she was proud of her son but she was, at least, content to know he was earning a comfortable living. It was certainly more money than he could ever earn by farming.

Without George’s income Rita had to go out and earn additional income. Working at the motel as a chambermaid was not sufficient. She was not trained to do any skilled work. She was not unattractive, although she had gained considerable weight and looked a little doughy. She spoke well and the experience of raising four children taught her discipline. Indeed, she looked like a typical loving grandmother. She landed a job in a mental hospital caring for and feeding the severely disturbed. It led to a series of employments in the civil service arena, mainly in institutions that took care of the disabled. She was very proud to be earning more money.

Conrad was more than aware of the relationship between Rita and Linda. He lived vicariously through them. There was nothing like listening to gossip in a beauty salon. He read their body language, listened to their prattling and wondered if one day he might engage in a relationship that seemed so satisfying. There was no one in Zephyr Cove who could satisfy that need. All the boys in high school shunned him. He was the odd ball and there was no one else like him. He had friends who were girls, but he could hardly engage them to satisfy his longings. Soon after he began to earn money he purchased a car. On weekends he drove to larger towns and searched for taverns where he might feel comfortable. After making an acquaintance he’d learn where else he would be welcomed. One would tell the other where to frequent, what evening was best, how to dress, and how to conduct oneself. He drove as far as Boston to maintain his anonymity. There were liaisons with numerous men but none were meaningful. None were enduring. He was comfortable with Linda as they were kindred spirits, but the only person he could truly confide in was Rita. She understood him and now that she had found her own identity she was even more in tune to his longings.

When Conrad visited Rita at her home, she never let the encounter end without reminding him of what she had done for him. Her conversations were not confrontational; rather, she told him stories with innuendo, with a subtle message. She would remind him of how she came to his defense when his classmates hectored him. Or, she would weave a story that illustrated how she introduced him to Linda, or how she had contributed to his success. She counseled Conrad, encouraging him to be himself, to live his life as he imagined. She compared her life to his, how she came to understand herself late in life while he’d known and accepted himself from an early age. She praised him for having such awareness and the courage of his conviction. Without being overt, she made Conrad feel beholden to her. He could no longer be in her presence without somehow thanking her for his good fortune. His ingratiating gratitude empowered her. It made her feel as if she were in control. She was enthralled by her power. She was unable to achieve anything like that with Linda. In that relationship she was the one always expressing gratitude and begging for more. She had no command of her children but she knew she could manipulate Conrad. The three formed a perfect circle of need and desire, of dominance and submission.