Surprise Wife: The Return

I was going to bring up our anniversary, but decided to let that wait for another day. I had had suspicions about that night, and I still thought about the way things went down, and what I could remember, but she had just told me she wouldn't do anything behind my back. I loved and trusted her to be honest with me, so I would let this go for another time. One thing was certain... I would have to learn more about this cuckolding thing before I got myself into something that I'd regret.

* * * * *

I kept my word and looked into it. I read a number of stories on the Internet, including a number that had been posted to various story sites. I also read quite a few accounts from men who claimed to have been in the lifestyle.

The fictional tales were just too much for me to accept at face value. I had a very difficult time believing any self-respecting man would let himself be locked in a chastity cage, then volunteer to sit and watch as his wife got serviced by one -- or more -- well-hung bulls.

The accounts that were supposedly provided by real-life willing cuckolds reminded me a bit of Margo and I. They seemed to be ordinary couples looking to add some spark back into their love life. But many of the relationships ended tragically, according to the online accounts. Most often, it was the husband who started off feeling excited, but later felt degraded, disrespected or humiliated. Many of those relationships ended in divorce.

I even did a search to find out how many of these "open marriages" ended in divorce. My results were a bit mixed, but it was clear to me that this whole cuckolding thing was a very dangerous course for us to take. It may be okay for Bill and Donna, but I couldn't see it working for us. In fact, I was planning to talk with Margo about it, but never got the chance.

My mind was made up. I realized that Eli was right. I certainly didn't like the idea of Margo's eternal destiny being in my hands, but it was the hand I had been dealt. If everything worked out, things would definitely change for the two of us. And if I had anything to say about it, Jason would pay -- dearly.

"Well?" Eli asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Think I have enough time to finish my drink and my smoke?"

"I reckon so," Eli said, his drawl returning. "Then we need to get you back where you belong. And don't worry. I've got yer back." We finished our drinks and got off the bar stools. "One last thing," Eli said. He put the partial pack of cigarettes in my pocket and smiled. "Don't worry, there's plenty more where those came from." He turned to the bartender and waved. "See ya, Jake."

"See ya, Eli," the bartender said with a wave of his hand. We stepped out into the bright sunlight...

* * * * *

The nurse monitoring the gunshot victim's vital signs looked around as her indicators suddenly began to change. She had no idea what caused it and double-checked everything to make sure she wasn't imagining things.

"Doctor, the patient's vitals have suddenly improved," she said. "Heart rate, blood pressure, everything seems to be improving and stabilizing. I can't explain it." They had spent the last few hours trying to keep the patient stable as they removed the bullet from his chest and repaired the damage the gunshot caused.

The doctor stopped what he was doing and looked at the indicators. Sure enough, the patient's blood pressure was returning to normal and his heart rate had suddenly stabilized. He looked toward the ceiling.

"Thank God," he whispered to himself. He knew there was a hysterical woman in the waiting room and the last thing he wanted was to tell her that her husband didn't survive the operation. He turned back to his colleagues.

"Alright, we've got the bullet out. Let's get the rest of this repaired and close him up," he said. They worked feverishly to complete the operation and soon, had him closed back up and prepared for the recovery phase. The doctor made one last check of everything before declaring the operation complete.

"Thank you all for your hard work," he said before they wheeled the patient out. He ripped off his surgical garments and tossed them in the appropriate bins before cleaning up. He didn't want the young woman to see any of her husband's blood on him. He spotted her as soon as he left the operating suite, and headed her way.

"Mrs. Smith?" he asked, extending a hand. Margret stood and accepted his hand. "I'm Dr. Bronson, the surgeon who worked on your husband, James. I just wanted to let you know we just finished, and your husband is stable but in critical condition. We were able to successfully remove the bullet and repair the damage to his chest. It was touch and go for a little while, but he rallied and is doing much better."

"Is he going to make it?" Margret asked anxiously.

"We're doing everything we can for him, Mrs. Smith. You have to understand the next few hours are going to be crucial. We're keeping him in recovery for a little while and then we'll move him into the ICU," he said. "If he continues to get stronger over the next few hours, I think he'll do just fine."

"Oh, thank God. Will I be able to see him when he goes into ICU?" she asked.

"I see no reason why not," the doctor said.

"If it's okay, I'm going to go home and change, and then I'll be back," she said.

"That would be just fine, Mrs. Smith," the doctor told her. "Just check with the nurse's station when you get here."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said. YES, she thought to herself when the doctor left. Jim is going to make it! She pulled out her cell phone and called Donna.

"Yeah?" Donna said when she answered her cell.

"Donna, it's me, Margo. Listen, I'm sorry for calling so late, but I just heard the news. It looks like Jim is going to make it. They finished the surgery and he's in recovery now. The doctor said he's stable but in critical condition."

"That's great news, Margo," Donna said.

"I'm heading home to clean up and change into something that's not covered in blood. Would you guys mind meeting me there? I'm still pretty scared with Jason still on the loose," she said.

"Sure, Margo, that's not a problem at all. We'll meet you there," Donna said.

"Thanks," Margo said, ending the call. When she got to her house, she saw Bill and Donna's car. They met her at the door and all of them looked at the crime scene tape that had been left over the door. Margo unlocked the door and stood for a minute before entering. The place felt... oppressive, almost as if a demonic presence was in the building.

"Are you alright?" Donna asked. Margo shook her head.

"No, not really," she said. She screwed up her courage and entered the house. Bill and Donna followed. "Any word on Jason?"

"It's been all over the news all day," Bill said. "They're still looking for him. Maybe there's an update. Mind if I turn on the television?"

"Go ahead," Margo said. Bill picked up a remote and turned on a local news channel.

"Authorities are still looking for Jason Kravits, the suspect wanted in the shooting of an Oak Hills man earlier today," the anchor said. A picture of Jason filled the screen. "A hospital spokesman said the victim, James Smith, is in stable but critical condition following hours of surgery. Police are asking the public's assistance and say Kravits is to be considered armed and very dangerous. Stay tuned to Eyewitness News for developments." Bill turned the television off.

"You going to be okay here by yourself?" Donna asked. Margo shook her head.

"No. I'm not staying here. I'm going to stay as close to Jim as I possibly can. There's a motel that has rooms they rent by the week. I'll stay there for now," she said. "I just need to take a shower and get some things together."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Donna asked.

"Just keep an eye on the place, okay?" Margo asked.

"If you want, I can call tomorrow for a professional cleaning service to come by," Bill said.

"That would be great, thanks," Margo said. She went upstairs and stopped to look at the dark stain on the bedroom carpet. She knew it was ruined after soaking up so much of Jim's blood, and she hoped the blood hadn't soaked through the pad and into the wooden floor underneath. There was no question the carpet would have to be replaced.

She stepped around the stain and headed for the bathroom, where she took a shower and scrubbed herself clean. After she dressed, she gathered enough things to last her for a few days and packed a couple suitcases along with a clothing bag. She felt nauseous, partly as a result of the smell coming from the carpet, but mostly because of what had happened earlier that day.

A tear slid down her cheek as she recalled the paramedic saying her husband was gone. Fortunately, he survived the gunshot, and the surgery. But she wasn't so sure about their marriage. She said a silent prayer, hoping Jim would forgive her.

She gathered her things and made her way downstairs. Bill saw her struggling with the suitcases on the staircase and went up to give her some assistance. They helped her carry her things to her car, then gave her a hug.

"Let us know when you're in your room and please keep us informed," Donna said. "We'll come by and see Jim when he can have visitors."

"Thank you," Margo said, returning Donna's hug. She gave Bill a quick hug and thanked him as well. Then she got in her car and left.

* * * * *

I felt the moisture on my face as I slowly clawed my way back to consciousness. I felt something hard in my mouth and realized it was a tube feeding oxygen into my lungs. As I opened my eyes, I saw Margret's face over mine and realized the moisture I felt was from her tears. I tried to raise a hand, but found I couldn't move it very far, thanks to the IV inserted into it.

Margo sensed my movement and looked up. I saw the tears coursing down her face and felt bad for her. When she realized I was awake, she smiled and kissed my face. Even without makeup, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I felt blessed to have her by my side.

"Oh thank God you're awake," she said. "I'd better go let the nurses know. Don't go anywhere." Right, like that was going to happen. She rushed out of the room and came back a few moments later, a couple nurses in tow. They checked my vitals and looked me over carefully.

"I'll go let Dr. Branson know," one of the nurses said before leaving the room. I tried to speak, but found that I couldn't -- my lips and throat were simply too dry. The other nurse noticed and gave me an ice chip to suck on, which helped. After a few moments, the nurse who had left returned with a doctor. I saw his name tag -- Branson.

He looked me over for a bit and checked my vitals. Then he looked at something on the side of my bed. Looking down, I saw tubes running over the edge of my bed and wondered what those were for. He looked back at me before speaking.

"Don't try to speak, Mr. Smith, just nod your head. Can you breathe on your own?" I inhaled and found that I could, although it hurt my chest to do so. I nodded my head. "Alright, we're going to take some X-Rays and see if we can get that tube out of your throat."

A few minutes later, a portable X-Ray machine was wheeled into the room and pictures were taken. The machine was wheeled out and the doctor left. Margo came back to my side and held my hand as she looked down at me.

"I was so worried," she cried. "I thought I had lost you for good. I've been praying for you to get better. I just hope you can forgive me." I tried to smile around the tube in my mouth, but it wasn't easy. I just nodded my head. After about a half-hour or so, the doctor came back into my room.

"Good news," he said. "It looks like your lung is healing up just fine, and it seems that we've gotten all the fluid out of it. We're going to remove the tubes from your chest and throat so you can start breathing on your own." I simply nodded my head as the doctor and the nurses began their work.

After a while, they finished and Dr. Branson sat next to me. Using his stethoscope, he listened to my chest as he had me take a few deep breaths. It hurt like hell, but I managed.

"Did it hurt to breathe?" he asked. I nodded my head as I croaked out a "yes."

"That's normal," he said. "I'm going to give you something to help you get your lungs back in shape. The nurse will show you how to use it. It's pretty simple, really. All you have to do is put the tube in your mouth and exhale as hard as you can for as long as you can. I want you to use this at least three times a day.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. Smith," he added. "I thought we had lost you a few times. The bullet that struck you missed your heart by about a half inch. Unfortunately, it pierced your lung and embedded in your back. We had a terrible time getting that lung fixed and clear of liquid. I put you in a medically-induced coma after your surgery so you could heal up. That's where you've been for the last six days."

Six days, I asked myself. Damn!

"Your wife has been a real trooper, Mr. Smith," he said. "She's been right here by your side every day. You're a lucky man, in more ways than one. The police have also placed a guard on your room, just in case the shooter tried to come back to finish the job he started. I'm going to keep you here in ICU for another day, maybe two. Then we'll get you up to your normal room. I want to hang on to you for at least another week. We'll start your therapy and see how things go from there. In the meantime, you just rest and take it easy, okay?" I nodded my head. "Good. I'll be in touch."

After he left, I looked at my wife. Indeed, I am a lucky man, I thought to myself. She looked at me with tears falling down her face. Finally, she leaned in to me and kissed my cheek.

"I've missed you so much," she cried. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're finally awake. When that paramedic said you were gone, I felt like part of me had died as well. I can't live without you, Jim. I hope you know that." I gave her a weak smile and nodded my head.

"I understand," I told her. "I understand a lot more than you know." I saw her looking up at a corner of the room and followed her gaze to the television playing in the upper corner. She grabbed the remote and turned the sound up so we could both hear it.

"This just in to Eyewitness News," an anchor said. "Authorities say they have arrested Jason Kravits, the suspect in last week's shooting of James Earl Smith. According to documents obtained by Eyewitness News, Kravits is being charged with, among other things, attempted murder, rape, sexual assault and blackmail. District Attorney Marvin Morrison says he intends to push for the maximum sentence allowed by law." The scene changed to a fairly tall, lanky man with curly hair. The chyron read: "Marvin Morrison, District Attorney."

"We intend to throw the book at Mr. Kravits and I am pushing to see him spend the rest of his life behind bars," Marvin told a reporter before walking away. The scene shifted back to the anchor.

"A hospital spokesperson told Eyewitness News that Mr. Smith's condition is improving. Stay tuned to Eyewitness News for more on this story." Margo turned the television off. I looked at her to gauge her reaction to the story.

"So, you told police everything then?" I asked. She nodded her head.

"I did, Jim," she said. "I showed them the pictures Jason gave me. All of them. After he shot you, I wanted to do everything I could to avenge you."

"I'm proud of you, Margo," I told her.

"Thank you, Jim, that means a lot to me," she said quietly. "Even though I know it means we won't be married for much longer."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"I saw the look on your face when you walked in and saw me with Jason. I could tell you were disgusted with me. I don't blame you. I won't fight it. The divorce, that is. Whatever you want, it's yours."

"Whatever I want?"

"Yes," she said.

"Anything? Anything at all? Am I hearing that right?"

"Yes. Anything. I won't fight you at all. If you want 100 percent of everything with no support, you've got it," she said.

"I tell you what. Let's talk about this later, okay? Right now, I'm hungry and I'm a bit tired. So why don't we get something to eat? We'll talk about this afterward. Deal?" I asked.

"It's a deal," she said. I called the hospital cafeteria and ordered a slice of meatloaf, some mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans. I ordered another plate for Margo. A half hour later, the food was delivered and we ate quietly. Afterward, I laid back in the bed and closed my eyes. I was tired and my chest was hurting. A nurse came in and gave me some pills, one of which made me a bit groggy.

"Let me sleep a bit and we'll talk, okay?" I asked Margo. She nodded her head.

"Okay, sweetheart," she said. "Sweet dreams. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you." I smiled at that.

"I love you too," I said before nodding off.

* * * * *

Jason Kravits laid on the bed in his tiny one-man cell. He thought he saw movement in the shadows in one corner of the cell and focused his attention on that corner. As he watched, the shadows seemed to gather together and coalesce into a figure. Soon, a tall being with what looked like a beat-up Stetson stood before him. He sat up in his bed, scared. Who is this? And is he here to kill me, Jason asked himself.

"I ain't here to kill ya," the shadowy figure said as if reading Jason's thoughts. "Not this time. I'm here ta give you a bit of advice."

"What's that?" Jason asked quietly, his body frozen in fear.

"Plead guilty. To everything. Accept what the judge gives ya. And hope you get a nice long sentence," the shadowy man said.

"Okay," Jason said. "And what if I don't?"

"Then ah reckon the next time you see me, I won't be quite so friendly," the tall shadow said. Jason nodded his head.

"Alright, I get it. Who are you, by the way?"

"Name's Peace. Justice O. Peace," the man said, his eyes glowing like fire. "And I'll be watching you." As fast as the shadowy figure appeared, it disappeared, leaving Jason trembling on the bed.

* * * * *

When I woke up, I saw Margret lounging on the couch next to my bed. Her head was on a pillow and she was watching television. She heard me stir and immediately sat up.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked.

"A bit, not much."

"Why don't you go home and come back in the morning?"

"No, I can't sleep in that house without you there. Besides, the bedroom still stinks. Bill and Donna had cleaners come over to take care of, well, you know. But the place still stinks. I'd rather stay here with you if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," I said. "I just thought you'd be more comfortable at home."

"I'm not comfortable in that house by myself ever since..."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

"In fact, I was thinking that maybe we should sell the place and get something else. Something without all the memories," she said.

"That's not a bad idea," I told her.

"Of course, that's assuming we're still together."

"Why wouldn't we be together?" I asked.

"I just thought... you know, after what I did... that you'd kick me out. Throw me away with the rest of the trash," she stammered, tears falling down her face. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. You deserve someone much better than me. I'm no good to you or anyone else," she added, sobbing.

"Let's get something straight, Margo," I said. "I love you and I've got ten years of my life invested in you. Eleven, if you count the time we were engaged. If you think I'm going to throw all that away without a fight, you're crazy. Besides, I've never known you to be a quitter." She stopped crying and looked at me, shocked.

"You mean that? Really?"

"Of course," I said. "Granted, you screwed up big time by lying to me. And yeah, we're gonna have to deal with that. I understand why you lied, and I know you were telling me the truth about Jason drugging us. I saw it."