More than a Divorce Statistic

"We've had search teams and helicopters scouring that area since the kidnapping was reported. One of the helicopter pilots spotted the car racing over the hill and followed. They came upon your gun battle and ended it. Then you and the boy were transported to the hospital. At first, we thought the boy was badly injured because he had considerable blood on him. But as it turns out, it was your blood. He refused to leave your side."

"I told him he was brave," I said absently.

"What was that, Mr. Adams?"

"Nothing, just that he was very brave."

The Inspector sat back in his chair and smiled. "That is an amazing story."

"It's the truth, I swear it," I protested. "If you don't believe me, ask George."

"Oh, I believe you, Mr. Adams. However, there is one point I'd like to clear up. The gun you used to defend yourself, where did you get it?"

I was like a deer in the headlights. The phrase, "Oh shit," ran through my head. I knew I was in trouble now. Still, I knew without that gun, I'd probably be dead.

"I brought it with me from the United States," I answered softly.

"I don't think so, Mr. Adams," the Inspector said with a chuckle. "Bringing a gun into the United Kingdom is a crime. The gun that we recovered had its serial numbers filed off. So, you must have gotten the weapon from the kidnappers. You were very fortunate to do so, don't you think?"

Confusion on my part suddenly gave way to crystal clarity. The Inspector was offering me plausible deniability about the gun. I was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I quickly confirmed the Inspector's suggestion. "Yes, that's exactly what happened. I surprised one of the kidnappers and was able to take his gun."

"Excellent," Inspector Blair said as he stood up. "You know, I could really do with a cup of tea. Can I get you one also?"

"In truth, Inspector, I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

He laughed and said, "I'll see what I can do."

Ten minutes later, the Inspector returned with an orderly who had a cup of tea and one of coffee. There was also a plate of cookies, which I believe the British call biscuits.

"Mr. Adams," the Inspector began after he had taken a sip of his tea, "there is much I need to tell you. And there is much we need to decide before you talk to anyone else. So, let me begin by correcting a misapprehension you have. The boy who you know as George is really Peter. And Peter is the future Duke of Windsor, and you would probably refer to him as the future King of England. However, the correct title is the future King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

That bit of information stunned me to my core. I could think of nothing to say, so I remained quiet.

"His Highness was spending the weekend with his friend, George, at Lord and Lady Ashford's estate. The Lord and Lady are George's parents. There was a security detail of eight. Two of that detail were killed, three were seriously injured, and the rest incapacitated. It was a well-planned, well-coordinated attempt to kidnap the Prince. In fact, if you hadn't stumbled into it, they would have succeeded in taking him, and we would be totally in the dark as to what had happened. Why these people tried to kidnap the Prince, we have no idea yet. Nor do I have any idea how they knew where the Prince was. Those are things that we will definitely get to the bottom of. As for right now, all I know for sure is that you are one hell of a hero."

I pondered the Inspector's information and then responded weakly, "I don't feel like a hero. In fact, I just feel a little sick to my stomach."

"Should I call someone?" the Inspector asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'll be okay."

"Now we have to decide what to do next," the Inspector took the last swallow of his tea and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Word of the attempt on the Prince leaked almost immediately. The country has been in an uproar since then. Now that the Prince has been restored safely, celebrations have been ongoing for days here and abroad. However, it has also put just about ever investigative branch in Britain under intense pressure to get to the bottom of what happened."

I was suddenly panicky as this entire incident felt like a terrorist attack. If that was the case, then my family, as well as myself could be in danger. "Can I make a request?"

"You certainly can make a request, but whether I'll be able to grant it is another matter altogether."

"Could you leave my name out of everything?" I asked immediately.

"Interesting," the Inspector said as he smoothed both sides of his mustache. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I just think it would be safer that way," I tried to explain. "If this was the work of some terrorists, and I'm listed as the one who threw the monkey wrench into their works, they might try to strike back at my family and me."

"Yes, I can see where that might be a problem," the Inspector agreed. "I'll take that up with my superiors and let you know in a few days. For the time being, we're keeping you under wraps. Are there people who might be alarmed if they don't hear from you? If so, we will contact them with a cover story."

"Maybe my parents," I said after thinking about it for a moment. "What day is it?"

"It's Friday, the sixth."

"I've lost almost a week," I said quietly. "I'm scheduled to fly back to the United States a week from this Sunday. I doubt I'm going to get out of the hospital in a week. Perhaps it would be best if you email my parents using my account and just say, I'm extending my holiday."

"We found your itinerary in your luggage. We've been monitoring the locations you planned to stay at to see if anyone contacted you. So far, no one has attempted to do so."

"Oh, one other person you should know about," I said as I remembered a commitment I had made. "I'm supposed to have dinner with a Miss Sarah Smythe on Saturday night."

The Inspector's eyebrows rose when I mentioned my dinner engagement. "And how do you know Ms. Smythe?"

"I met her on a train to Germany," I explained. "We became friendly, and she also became my unofficial tour guide. There's nothing romantic between us. She was just very kind and helpful."

"I understand," the Inspector said as he stood. "Do you have an email for her?"

When I nodded, the Inspector continued. "I think it best that we email her and tell her that you've injured yourself. You're not seriously injured, but you would prefer to be treated by your doctor at home. In the meantime, there will be officers outside your room twenty-four hours a day until we decide how to proceed. I'll be in touch in a few days when we have a better handle on everything. In the meantime, I hope you understand that we will be keeping you incommunicado. Will that be a problem?"

I shook my head.

The next several days were very challenging. As I began to heal, they started reducing the pain medication. That meant there were times when I was hurting, especially right after physical therapy. I began to get "cabin fever," being confined to my room. It was interesting at first to watch the television coverage. The mood, in Great Britain especially, was that of thankful jubilation. But there was also outrage. But after watching a day or two of the non-stop coverage, it became painful to watch. I suppose I was suffering from a mild case of PTSD.

When I was beginning to believe that Inspector Blair had forgotten me, he arrived on the following Tuesday. I was hopeful that he would give me some good news, like when I would be allowed to leave. I just wanted to get better and go home.

I was standing at the window, wishing I could be outside, when Inspector Blair walked into my room. "You're looking remarkably well, Mr. Adams. I'm so pleased that you are recovering this quickly. It makes my news even more gratifying."

"That sounds promising," I said as I took a seat on the edge of my bed.

"We have been working exceedingly hard to get to the bottom of this most cowardly attack. Unfortunately, we still don't know who was behind the kidnapping. However, we were able to take two of the perpetrators alive, and we still hope to get at least one of them to tell us what we want to know."

"Well, that sort of makes my request as urgent as it was before," I responded. "I'm hoping that you'll keep my name out of everything."

"You're an interesting chap, Mr. Adams. Most men would love to bask in the glow of being a hero. But you wish to remain anonymous. Your first concern is for your family, which is most commendable. But, to put your mind at rest, my superiors agree that you should remain unknown. We will make every effort to make sure that your name does not make it to the public. I have to admit, though, that my superiors were all for releasing your name straightaway. Some within the department were suspicious that you may have been part of the plot. They did not, initially, believe your story about just stumbling into the kidnapping. Some felt that you had been part of the plot but got cold feet at the last moment. However, a check of the tracking device on the rental car confirmed everything you told us. Plus, the Prince was quite insistent that you had nothing to do with the kidnapping."

"That's wonderful," I said with a smile. "I assume that this means I'll be able to return to the United States once the hospital releases me. I'm anxious to get home."

"Yes, you will be allowed to leave the country as soon as you're discharged," the Inspector confirmed. "We believe that the sooner you're out of the country, the safer you'll be."

"Have you received any messages from my parents?" I asked.

"Yes, they've tried to call you and email you," the Inspector confirmed. "Obviously, we couldn't return the calls, but via email, we informed them that you only had spotty cellphone coverage."

"I've spoken to the doctors, and they will be releasing a week from Saturday, and we've taken the liberty of booking you on a flight leaving that afternoon. You'll be leaving the hospital after lunch that day with a security man."

The Friday before I was to leave the hospital, the Inspector appeared once again and returned my cellphone. He told me that I was free to call whomever I wished. I called my parents and told them I had suffered an accident. I lied and told them it wasn't serious but did require a hospital visit. My mother became very upset and wanted to fly over to help me return. I lied again and told her I'd fallen off a bicycle and had a rather unfortunate encounter with some metal but that I was fine. I told her I'd be home before she could even get a ticket. That seemed to pacify her.

Saturday morning, after breakfast, I was up and dressed. I was anxious to be out of the hospital and on my way home. At about eleven, I heard a commotion in the hallway outside my room. When I looked out, I saw a well-dressed couple with a young boy walking toward my room. It took a moment, but then I recognized George, or I corrected myself, Peter.

As the couple drew closer, the men and women on either side of the hallway either bowed or curtsied. It was surreal to watch. You read the stories about how British Royalty are treated, but you don't ever expect to witness it in person. The couple was very gracious with everyone they passed. But Peter seemed antsy. When he finally saw me, he quickened his pace and got to me before his parents.

"Your Highness," I nodded with a smile.

"Mr. Adams, it is so good to see you well," he said with a broad smile. "As they were lifting you into the helicopter, I was so afraid they had killed you. Thank you so much for helping me."

By then, the King and Queen were there beside their son.

"Your Majesties," I said with a slight bow. "This is indeed a great honor for me."

"No, Mr. Adams, the honor is ours," the King said as he stuck out his hand and we shook. I couldn't believe that I was shaking hands with the King, and I would never be able to tell anyone about it. Oh well, I said to myself, it's better this way.

"Mr. Adams," the Queen continued, "I can't ever thank you enough for saving our son. I have had a very difficult time after the incident. I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn't been there. You will always be in our thoughts and prayers."

The Queen then extended her hand, but she looked quickly around when I grasped it then lifted my hand and kissed it. I was totally surprised by the act and had no idea how to respond.

"You can be very proud of your son," was all I could think to say. "He was very brave under very difficult circumstances. Without his help, I don't think we would have made it."

With that, the encounter was over, and they moved off. The Royal Family had been warned not to make any particular fuss over me. It might get people asking questions. I would learn a little while later that this visit was supposedly part of their royal schedule. However, they had insisted on visiting the hospital to personally thank me. I was touched by the gesture.

All the time in the hospital had given me a great deal of time to think about my life, and I wasn't particularly happy with myself. The flight home still had me thinking about what I should do next.

My parents were there to meet me, and I could see the relief in my mother's eyes when her fears about my health had been put to rest. Still, she hugged me tightly. My father was also happy to see me home and gave me a hug also. I winced a little at that and explained that the wounds were still a little sore. Still, I was thrilled with the hug. It was something that he rarely did. My dad always told people he wasn't a hugger. Now that isn't entirely true. He takes every opportunity he can to hug my mom.

As we stood by the luggage carousel, my mother got very still and serious. "Mike, I've done something that might make you quite cross with me. But please, if you're going to get angry, get angry with me."

"I can't think of anything you'd do, mom, that would make me angry."

"You may change your mind very soon," my mother said and looked over to one of the exit doors.

I glanced over to where my mother was looking, and I saw Kerry standing there looking distraught. The redness of her eyes told me that she had been crying. Kerry looked pale, and she trembled slightly. Meer weeks ago, I would have been angry at my mother and stormed away. But when you've been as close to death's door as I have, you get a completely different perspective on life. Suddenly, many of the things you thought were so important aren't anymore.

As I looked at Kerry, I no longer saw a cheating wife. I saw a woman who was lonely, sad, and afraid. I also saw a woman who had been grossly taken advantage of and a woman who still seemed to love me. She was still the beautiful woman I had fallen in love with. I smiled at her and walked over to where she was standing.

"Hello, Kerry," I said gently. "Thank you for coming to welcome me home."

At that, Kerry's reserve broke down, and she threw herself into my arms. She sobbed into my shoulder, saying over and over again, "I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me."

I calmed her down and then took her over to where my parents were standing. They had already retrieved my luggage.

"I didn't care for the meal on the plane, so I didn't eat much of it," I said cheerfully. "What do you say I take you all out for dinner. I'm famished."

I can't say that everything was suddenly healed between Kerry and me, but it was a start. In the beginning, I still had no idea what I wanted. All I knew was that I didn't want to punish Kerry any longer. I wanted her to be happy.

A few days later, I asked her out to lunch to discuss our problems. Then we started counseling sessions, and finally, we started dating again. What I learned from our sessions was that Kerry was terrified of disappointing me. That's why she submitted to the affair. I also learned that I had fostered this belief by lavishly praising my wife when she did things that I thought were good. And when she didn't live up to my expectations, Kerry would see my disappointment. I never realized I was doing that, but I could see that it was absolutely true as I looked back.

It took six months to work through our problems, but I had never stopped loving Kerry. So, with a small number of relatives, Kerry and I remarried in her parent's backyard. Of the people at our remarriage, outside of ourselves, I believe our mothers were the happiest people there.

I took Kerry on a cruise for our honeymoon. Strange as it may seem, Kerry and I did not have sex before the wedding. Neither one of us wanted to cloud our emotions. So, that first night in our stateroom, we were both nervous. I know it sounds funny as we had made love hundreds of times while we were married the first time. But this second marriage was so different from our first. I know that I, for one, felt a connection to Kerry on a much deeper level.

To me, Kerry had always been the most beautiful girl I had ever known. She had long auburn hair and a button nose. Her breasts were quite ample, and her nipples would go erect with just one brush of my hand. But it was her soft brown eyes that drew me to her the first time we met that still captivated me.

When I climbed into bed with Kerry, I felt her shiver in anticipation. She smelled so wonderful and felt even better. We spooned for a bit as I kissed and blew gently on her neck. When she turned to me, we kissed with our tongues massaging each other with longing. After I lifted her nightgown and threw off my t-shirt, I began to suck on one of Kerry's breasts as I ran two fingers in and out of her pussy. The first time I slipped my fingers in, Kerry gasped and then moaned. I continued to rub her until I felt her vagina walls clamped down, and she shuddered.

Moving my tongue down her stomach to her sweet opening, and began to use my tongue. Kerry began to twist and arch her back, finally crying out in joy. Then she whispered in my ear that she wanted me inside her.

Kerry was so wet when I placed the head of my penis at her opening that I slid all the way in with one thrust. Then I began to push in and out, slowly at first. As Kerry's orgasm began to build, I pumped faster. I told her when I was about to cum, she said hoarsely, "Spill your seed in me and make me pregnant." Moments later, I erupted inside my wife as she climaxed from the warmth of my sperm.

The rest of the honeymoon was much like that first night. Of course, we took the tours, went dancing, attended shows, but mostly we made love. I was, once again, in love with my wife. But there was still that twinge of mistrust that hung in the back of my mind. It didn't raise its ugly head until years later.

I believe it happened that very first night, but two months later, Kerry found out she was pregnant. Seven months later, we had a little boy we named Grant. Eleven months after that, we had a little girl we named Louisa.

Three years after that, Kerry went back to work part-time. At first, I was alright with Kerry's new job, but I couldn't help it. With each passing month, my suspicions and jealousy grew. I kept my fears to myself, but it was putting a strain on our marriage. Even though Kerry had done nothing that would cause me to worry, I worried nonetheless. At the same time, I didn't realize it, but I began to pull away from my wife. I guess I was mentally preparing myself because I couldn't help but feel Kerry would betray me once again.

Kerry suffered through my moods, and it was taking a toll on her. We began to argue more and more. Finally, I started to think about divorce. It was Kerry who talked me into counseling once again. At first, the sessions didn't seem to do much at all. But then slowly, I could see the hole I had dug myself. Things between us got so much better after I realized my problem. Then we began rebuilding our relationship. For the next year, life was great for my family and me. Then disaster overtook us.