The Ghost of Red River Falls

"I'll call you the minute we land in Honolulu. I promise, okay?" I said nothing, only tears forming in my eyes. I felt like I was watching my whole life walking out the door.

"I can't promise I'll be here when you get home," I said. She seemed to take pause for a moment, but then mustered up some additionally resolve. Hell, even I didn't know if I meant it or not.

"I have to go. Ed and Joanne are waiting." She walked over, gave me a quick kiss on the lips and took her bags to Ed and Joanne's van. They greeted her with huge smiles and hugs and told her how thrilled they were that she was going with them.

As for me, I felt like the remaining pieces of my heart had shattered and fallen to the floor. I watched out the front window as they drove away. When they were gone, I collapsed on the sofa and wept for the next hour.

*****

I was absolutely miserable for the first two days she was gone. I was so hurt and pissed off that I never even answered the phone when she called to tell me that she had landed. All I could think about was the fact that my new bride was on a vacation with the family of her deceased husband. She was there by herself, without me, and also happened to be in the presence of her husband's very-much-single younger brother, Nate Parmelly.

It had been my suspicion for quite some time, ever since I met Ed and Joanne, that they were somehow concocting a way to get Wendy and Nate together, like some sort of biblical responsibility taken directly from the Old Testament. Perhaps that was why Nate always seemed to have that damned smirk on his face all the time, as if he knew all along that Wendy would someday be his and there was nothing I could do about it. Well, Wendy was now 5,000 miles away from home with Nate and the rest of the family. And Nate would be right. There was not a damned thing I could do about it.

I did my very best to keep active while she was gone. My stupid left ankle was still giving me fits but I was at least to the point where I could walk on it without the crutches. Ibuprofen was still my best friend (the Percodan was upsetting my stomach) with ice packs another close drinking buddy behind it. I was spending time at the Red River Falls Fire Department and working out in our small gymnasium, at least doing some lifting and cardio that didn't involve putting weight on my ankle. It would probably be another week before I could go back to work on light duty and then another two to three weeks before I could go back to work unrestricted.

By day three, I could sense that Wendy was starting to get a little paranoid by the fact that I wouldn't answer her calls. Truthfully, I wanted her to sweat a little bit. She had done everything she could to rationalize bailing on me and our marriage for ten days while she enjoyed some fun and sun in the tropics with her former in-laws. If there was some way I could stick it to her and the Parmellys just a little bit by making it less enjoyable for Wendy, then I knew that it would also be less enjoyable for the Parmellys if Wendy was having a shitty time.

By Saturday of that week, I was feeling good enough to get a little outdoor exercise. So I decided to go for a fairly lengthy walk. My ankle was sore but I was able to grit through a five mile walk. I was limping through the front door and into the kitchen when I noticed that the answering machine had a message on it. I was almost sure it was from Wendy and was tempted to hit 'erase' before listening to it. But curiosity got the better of me and I hit the play button.

"Yes, this is message is for Ms. Wendy Parmelly. Ms. Parmelly, this is Andrea calling from Northwestern Cryogenics. At your earliest convenience, please contact us at (595) 555-9285. Again, this is Andrea from Northwestern Cryogenics. Please call us at (595) 555-9285 at your earliest convenience. Thank you."

Northwestern Cryogenics? What the hell could that be about? I replayed the message again and made sure to write down the phone number. A quick call to the number confirmed a hunch that they wouldn't be open on the weekend but I wanted to make sure. I fired up my laptop and punched in a search for the company, which led me to their website.

The website looked pretty plain-Jane and didn't really say a whole lot. Basically, they offered a number of services from providing cryogenic gases and liquids, such as nitrogen, as well as cryogenic storage for a wide variety of biomedical services. I've always heard stories of people who have family members cryogenically frozen but I was pretty sure that wasn't the case as I had personally visited Kevin Parmelly's grave at Rosewood cemetery on numerous occasions with Wendy.

No, it would have to wait until Monday before I could call and satisfy my curiosity about this mysterious message. Just then, the home phone rang again and I picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

"Jack! I finally reached you, sweetheart!" It was Wendy, of course. She sounded relieved, almost as if she were thinking 'great, he's alive, now I can get back to enjoying my vacation'.

"Yes, you did. Do you need something, Wendy? I was just about to jump in the shower."

"Yes, Jack," she said, sounding put off. "I did need something. I need to talk to my husband. I called to find out how you were doing."

"Did you really call for that? Or did you just call to satisfy your conscious that you're trying to stay in touch with me for a few minutes so you can go and enjoy the rest of your spur-of-the-minute vacation with your ex-in-laws?"

"They're not my ex in-laws, Jack! I never got divorced from this family. There's a big difference!"

"Whatever. I doubt that Nate sees you as an in-law. He probably sees you as a gorgeous woman who is not currently in the company of her husband 5,000 miles away from home."

"Oh, my God! Is that what you think? You think I came all this way to have a fling with my own brother-in-law? Jesus, Jack! Nate is like a brother to me!"

"You know what, Wendy? It really doesn't matter what I think. You've proven to me time and again that what I think doesn't matter to you. So I guess it shouldn't matter to you what I think."

I could hear her sigh and choke up a bit on the other end. "Look, Jack. I don't want to fight. I'm going to use this time away to get my head cleared. And then when I get home, we're going to work this out, okay? Please, Jack. I don't want to fight."

Of course you don't, I thought. You want to have a clear conscience so you can have fun on your vacation.

"Look," she continued, "I have to get going. We're getting ready to leave for a tour of Pearl Harbor. Ed wants to see the USS Arizona. I'll call you again tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine."

"I love you, Jack."

"I wish I could believe that, Wendy."

"Jack, please don't be like that. You're hurting me."

"Go have fun with the Parmellys."

"Will you please talk to me tomorrow?"

"I'll be around," I said.

"Okay. Good bye, Jack. I love you."

"Good bye, Wendy." And I hung up. I'm sure she noticed that I didn't return her 'I love you'. Perhaps that would give her some more food for thought between now and tomorrow, if I even bothered to answer her. I still had a week to go before she got home and the longer she was gone, the more I was resenting her for being gone.

Sunday, I pretty much vegged out all day. The Twins were playing that afternoon and so I relaxed in my favorite recliner with a freshly stocked mini-fridge full of beer. The Twins played miserable but the cold beer helped ease the sting from the loss as well as the lingering pain and irritation from my ankle and my worsening situation with Wendy.

I knew that we were going to have to hash everything out once and for all. Even if Wendy put up a convincing argument - and I was pretty sure that she couldn't - we were still going to have to talk about the elephant in the room; her ongoing infatuation and fantasies with her deceased husband.

It still depressed me to think about what I walked in on last week. On one hand, it would have been incredibly erotic to watch her pleasure herself like that. It was always one of my biggest fantasies. There's nothing sexier than a woman who is willing to take charge of her own orgasm from time to time. But the huge downside was the fact that I wasn't even remotely a part of it.

I couldn't help but feel like Wendy was just using my physical body to try and somehow continue the life that she had with Kevin. I mean, we had spent more time with Kevin's family since we got married than we even did with Wendy's family or my own family. It was pretty damned depressing, that's for sure.

I never heard the upstairs phone ring on Sunday evening, so Wendy tried to reach me on my cell. I looked at the caller ID and just didn't feel like answering it. I had a nice buzz going, courtesy of Mister Budweiser, and didn't feel like ruining it with another depressing conversation with Wendy. A couple minutes after she called, she tried texting.

Don't shut me down, Jack. I needed this time away to think. I also did you a favor by giving you some space.

Wow. She just totally didn't get it. I texted back:

You call this a favor? You and I have different ideas of favors. That's like

amputating a leg for a sprained ankle.

Apparently she didn't like the response.

You're taking this way too hard, Jack. And blowing everything out of

proportion.

Blowing everything out of proportion?

Then what the hell do you call what I walked in on last week when I came

home from work after getting hurt? How would you feel if you walked in

on me watching a homemade porno with an ex-girlfriend while jerking off

in our marital bed? We still haven't even come close to talking about

THAT!

It was nearly ten minutes before she wrote back.

That is totally unfair! Yes, I'm sure it was weird for you to see, Jack. I

can't just forget about Kevin. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed

the release. You can't possibly understand until someone you love as

much as I loved Kevin gets violently taken away from you! I don't expect

you to understand. But you have no right to expect me to just forget,

either!

I didn't even bother to respond. I just turned the phone off completely, grabbed another beer and flipped the channel from Fox Sports North to ESPN to watch the Sunday night game. It was the Yankees and the Red Sox - two teams I didn't really care for all that much, but I couldn't help watching them play when I got the chance just because of how much the two teams can't stand each other.

As that fat bastard C.C. Sabathia delivered the opening pitch, I couldn't help but think of something my Dad told me long ago: Never argue with a crazy woman. They'll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.

Wendy was taking crazy to a whole new dimension. I just had to decide if I was willing to let her take me along for the ride.

*****

I went for another long walk Monday morning, nearly ten miles. The ankle held up pretty okay with the ankle brace. It was almost noon by the time I got back home, grabbed the mail from the box, and headed back inside. Looking at the home phone reminded me of the message from that Northwestern Cryogenics place. I quickly retrieved the number and dialed.

"Northwestern Cryogenics, this is Andrea. May I help you?" She sounded very pleasant.

"Yes, my name is Jack Fitzgerald. I'm calling on behalf of my wife, Wendy Parmelly. You left a message with her this past weekend?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Fitzgerald. I meant to call her on Friday but I got busy with a department meeting. I was in the office on Saturday for a bit and wanted to at least let her know I called."

"I understand. Unfortunately, Wendy isn't here right now and won't be home for a while. I was wondering if there was a message or something I could relay for her."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald. But HIPAA rules stipulate that I can only speak with your wife. I apologize."

"I understand," I said. Damn! "I'll see if I can get her to contact you later today or something."

"Very well, Mr. Fitzgerald. Thank you for calling."

Weird. I was no closer to solving this little mystery. She talked about HIPAA rules. As a firefighter and paramedic, I was very much aware of what the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act was and what it meant. Among a gazillion governmental laws and regulations, the most prominent feature of HIPAA was the patient's rights to privacy. It spelled out very specifically what personal health information could be shared and who it could be shared with. It also identified stiff penalties to individuals and organizations who inappropriately shared a person's personal health information.

So, whatever Wendy's business was with Northwestern Cryogenics, I would have to be a bit sneaky if I wanted to dig deeper. Against my better judgment, I did.

I contacted the fire station to see if a friend of mind, Monica Banner, was working today. Monica was a firefighter/paramedic on my shift. She is a helluva firefighter, a terrific medic, and just a great all-around person. Even though she was only one of three females on our department, she was very much just one of the guys. I'd never tell her this, but she is also smoking hot. Very fit and active and big into Tough Mudder competitions and women's Triathlons. She's already run marathons in ten states and plans to eventually complete one in all fifty states.

Monica and I were also great friends. Shamefully, for some reason, I never really let on to Wendy how good of friends we really were. Absolutely nothing sexual between Monica and I. But for some reason, I just never really divulged to Wendy that Monica is one of my best friends.

I stopped down at the fire station that afternoon. I hadn't heard from Wendy all day and I assumed she was still pissed at me over our text exchange from the night before. Monica had just gotten back from an ambulance call and was finishing her medical run report when I stopped in.

"Hey! Look at you, gimpy! Nice of you to drop by," she said as I hobbled into the station.

"Wow! If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were happy to see me!"

We chit-chatted for about fifteen minutes or so, just exchanging pleasantries and small talk about the goings on at Red River Falls Fire Department. But Monica could sense that I had an ulterior motive for stopping by to see her.

"So, what's the real reason you stopped by, Jack? How's married life treating you?"

She could see the dejected look cross my face and she became concerned.

"Not so good, actually. In fact, it is becoming more and more apparent that I have made the worst mistake of my life," I said.

Monica wasted no time grabbing some coffee for us from the kitchen. Then we went and sat down in a small office and talked. For about twenty minutes straight, I did nothing but talk while Monica sat there and absorbed every word. She never said anything, never offered an opinion or a suggestion. She just sat and listened. I even brought up the mystery of Northwest Cryogenics and told her that I couldn't explain why it bothered me so much.

"So, what can I do to help?" she asked.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if you would be willing to pretend to be my wife."

"Huh? Seriously? What's the angle?"

"I can't talk to this gal from Northwest Cryogenics. It's a HIPAA violation if she shares anything with me. But she might actually think you are Wendy if you call. I can give you Wendy's information so that this place will actually think they're talking to her."

"I dunno, Jack. This is kind of weird."

"Please, Monica. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. My marriage is hanging by a thread right now. I just need some peace of mind right now."

Monica thought for a few moments. "Okay, Jack. But you owe me a steak for this!"

"Deal!"

We went downstairs to the basement and used my smart phone to contact Northwestern Cryogenics. Luckily, they were still open for another hour yet.

"Northwestern Cryogenics, this is Andrea. How can I assist you?"

"Uh, yes. This is Wendy Fitzgerald. I had a message to contact you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a Wendy Fitzgerald in our system. Are you sure you contacted the right number?"

Monica covered the phone with her hand. "What do I do?" she whispered.

"Oh, shit! Tell them you're Wendy Parmelly. You got re-married."

"Uh, Wendy Fitzgerald is my married name. I'm registered under Wendy Parmelly."

"One moment, please." We could hear the click of computer keys in the background. "Ah, yes. Here it is. Could I please have you verify your date of birth and social security number?"

Monica gave Wendy's birthdate and SSN from a piece of paper.

"Very good, Ms. Parmelly. The reason I am calling is to verify that your request has been processed and your cryo package has been shipped. It will arrive at its destination tomorrow."

"Have her verify the destination," I whispered.

"Could you please verify the destination of the package?" Monica asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Your package is scheduled for delivery to McMillan Women's Clinic in Red River Falls and is addressed to a Doctor Virginia Howard."

Monica looked at me quizzically. "Thank you. And can you tell me what all is in those packages?"

"Excuse me?" Andrea asked.

"The packages," Monica continued. "Can you confirm what is being shipped to the clinic?" Ooh! Good question, I thought.

"Well," Andrea continued, sounding confused. "The packages contain five vials of preserved donor semen."

Monica's jaw dropped in shock. I could feel the blood drain from my own face.

"Uh, can you tell me about the donor?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The donor," Monica said. "Can you tell me about the donor?" God, I hope she wasn't giving too much away.

"Ms. Parmelly, the sperm was donated and banked by your husband, Kevin Parmelly."

Monica's face went as white as mine. All I could do was slump down in my chair at the revelation.

"Okay, thank you..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"Will there be anything else, Ms. Parmelly?"

"No. That will be all. I'll call the clinic tomorrow. Thank you."

I punched the icon to end the call. Monica and I looked at one another in horror and disbelief. Wendy had requested sperm samples from her deceased husband to be delivered to a clinic in Red River Falls. But what the hell could it mean? Surely, it couldn't mean that she intended to somehow get pregnant from her deceased husband, could it? But on the other hand, what the hell else could it mean?

"Jack, I'm so sorry. I...I have...absolutely...no idea what to say."

I was at a loss for words. "I guess I have some more investigating to do."

"Is Wendy on her own insurance through the college or is she on our plan through the city?"

I thought for a moment. "She dropped her insurance when we got married. It costs a lot less for her to be on my plan."

"Can you contact Blue Cross and find out what is going on? If she were to actually do something like this, it would have to get run through insurance. In vitro fertilization costs like $30,000 to $40,000 a pop and our insurance only lets you try twice. I assume you don't have that kind of money lying around and neither does she, right?"

"Oh, hell no, I don't. I'd never be able to afford that - especially after I dropped a twenty grand down payment on my truck and camper last year. Wendy on the other hand, might have some money left from Kevin's life insurance. I know she used most of it to pay off their house after he died."