The Curse of the Scots Ch. 06

It had to happen; I needed to have that talk with Caprice, but I just couldn't come up with a way to get at it. Every day since I'd made the discovery about her past I'd found first one then another excuse to put off telling her about her parents. I was certain the longer I put it off the worse it would be. Just the same I didn't want to bring it up. At last, after much soul searching, I finally came up with a plan.

I waited until the Tuesday two weeks after the carnival. Emily was in all day preschool, I had Angie at work at one of our roadside stands, and I was fast approaching the time when everyone would be getting ready for the early harvest. Caprice was home with a lot of free time on her hands.

The plan was simple. First I'd procure all the things I thought she might need for the trip I knew she had to take. Then I made arrangements for a quiet luncheon at a nice restaurant.

I'd bought some luggage, and got Caprice out of the house to visit Angie while she was at work. While she was out I loaded her apparel in a two suitor, a smaller overnight bag, and a cosmetic bag. I placed these in a slightly used Honda I picked up at the CarMax in Georgetown. On the passenger's seat I placed a briefcase I'd picked up the Gold Coast Mall. Inside the briefcase was bankbook with a $5,000.00 balance, a Visa account with a $5,000.00 limit, a new cell phone, and all the appropriate insurance and personal paperwork I thought she'd might need in the event of a problem. I also included a brief additional personal note.

I got Del to drive the Honda to the Olive Garden parking lot on the coastal highway. The time had finally come.

The last thing I did was have a pleasant evening alone with Caprice at the house. I fixed a quiet dinner, and did my best to be a warm and considerate lover that night in bed. The next morning I got out of the house before Caprice was up.

I drove down the roadside stand where Caprice was assisting Angie, picked her up and took her out to lunch.

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Caprice knows something's wrong.

I knew something was gnawing at Cayden, but I had no idea what it was.

He picked me up at the vegetable stand where Angie has been working. I'd been watching those two.

The way Cayden has stepped up for Angie has been just about what I expected, but the way Angie has responded had been remarkable. She'd really turned a corner on Cayden. I'm so proud of her, but I guess I'm a little jealous and maybe a little scared too. I mean the look on his face each morning when he leaves to pick up his ex-wife; he's so happy.

He's still good to me; actually he's more than just good, he's wonderful. We make love almost every night. He's so considerate and gentle. The only men who are gentle with whores are real young boys and real old men, and even then it's always, and I mean always, still just about them.

I can tell he's been awfully lonely for an awfully long time. I can tell because he cares about the foreplay and our post orgasm cuddling just as much as he does about the actual sex. I don't always have an orgasm when we make love. He can tell and keeps trying even after he's done. I love the feel of him inside me. I love it when he ejaculates in me. Though I haven't had one lately, I've had menstrual cycles since he bought me. I know I'm fertile. I can't imagine anything more wonderful than one day giving Cayden a baby. I already told him that. He didn't bat an eye.

I can't get enough of him. Oh I know it's mostly all still sex, but it doesn't feel like just sex; it feels like, well it feels like love, or what I imagined love would be like with a man when I was a child. I think about him all day. I think about how he wraps his arms around me, how he puts his hands in my hair, how he breathes his warm breath on my neck late at night when we're done. I cuddle against him as close as I can. I love it when we spoon and he cups my breasts in the palms of his hands. I like to press backward against him and feel how his manhood stirs when I do that.

Cayden is good to me; I mean he's a wonderful lover. Sometimes at night he's so tired he can barely get it up. I don't press him. I don't care, not really. All I want is the companionship.

I feel giddy all day. I wash his clothes. I get to iron his pants and shirts. All his shoes are shined and arranged neatly on the floor in our closet. I even polish his work boots. I plan our meals. I love it when he eats everything on his plate. I especially love it when he takes a second helping. He tells me I'm a good cook. I think I am too; at least I know I'm getting better.

Every couple days I go to the IGA store and buy things for the house. I never dreamed that one day I'd be pushing a shopping cart up and down store aisles selecting things that I would take home and cook for a man, a single, as in solitary, man, like as in husband. I know it's stupid; it's something millions of women take for granted. I mean just deciding whether to get Skippy or Peter Pan peanut butter!

I pretend we're married. Imagine, me, a few months ago I was a dirty whore. Now I'm almost a real wife! I know it's just pretend, but I still love it.

I've made lots of friends. I talk to other housewives. We share recipes. I stand behind my cart at the checkout line and browse through the magazines on the racks. I stand there just like I was a regular person and read about Fergie, and Mila Kunis, and Taylor Swift. Every now and then I even buy a magazine. Haile Barry had a baby! I like People magazine the best. I know it sounds imbecilic, but it's like I was his wife. I've become a real person. Sometimes when I get home I feel like crying I'm just that happy. It's so crazy; Caprice the whore is living the dream. Only one thing's missing. I want to be a mom. Wouldn't it be great if I was pregnant?

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This morning Cayden wanted me to work with Angie at her stand for a while. It's not officially her stand; it's the vegetable stand where she's employed. He sees that she gets paid twelve dollars an hour; that three dollars more than anybody else. I know why he's doing it; he wants her to feel more independent and feel better about herself. He's raising her self-esteem.

Angie spent the entire time telling me about Emily's first days at school. I could tell she was desperately trying to be upbeat. She's got something on her mind. Angie's not good at concealing her feelings. She chattered all morning; it was a nervous chatter. I know something important was in the offing.

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Cayden picked me up before I had a chance to eat my lunch. I had a cooler and I had packed half a ham sandwich and a cup of pineapple slices, but Cayden got me and said he wanted to take me out to eat.

It was after 2:00 when Cayden and I got to the Olive Garden. Cayden was nervous about something. Before we went inside he seemed to scan the parking looking for someone or something. Whatever it was he must have found it, because pretty soon he took my arm and escorted me into the restaurant. A young waitress took us to a small table by a big window. It was a beautiful sunny day. The restaurant wasn't crowded. I figured out Cayden had arranged for us to have a fairly private spot with a good view.

He ordered for the both of us. He ordered the lasagna, the house salad, and a carafe of red wine.

As we drank our wine and ate our meal he talked mostly about the farm, how it was too dry, and how much he enjoyed fishing and crabbing. He promised to take me fishing one day soon. I was really enjoying myself. Earlier when I was with Angie I thought something might have been about to happen, but I figured I must have been wrong. Then when the waitress cleared the last of our plates and brought us each our coffees Cayden's demeanor grew serious. My morning's sense of disquiet returned.

He started to talk, "Caprice this is very hard for me, but there's something I have to bring up."

I bit my lip. I knew it. I wondered what this was all about, and frankly, judging from his changed appearance I knew whatever it was wouldn't be good. I got scared.

"Caprice, darling, I have to tell you something."

I involuntarily clutched at the edge of the table. I was wearing a light green button up blouse. I was afraid to look down but I thought my boobs had begun to stick out. I felt scared, scared and self-conscious.

He said, "I have to come clean."

I watched him. His eyes had started to water. I wondered if he was about to tell me that he and Angie were getting back together, that they were going to get married again, and I'd have to move out. If that was the case I was ready for it. I could move into town or rent an apartment at the beach. The tourist season was winding down and there would be vacancies. I was prepared to step back for Angie's sake. I was ready to play second fiddle, be the friend, the helpful neighbor. I could do that. As long as I was close by I knew I'd be fine. I steeled myself. I could be the friend. I didn't need the sex. I could handle anything as long as I was close enough to see them every day. I could be the babysitter. I could clean their house. There were a hundred things I could do, a thousand ways I could be useful and still not be in the way.

I was ready. I told him, "I can take it sweetheart. Just spit it out. Whatever it is we'll manage it together, the three of us." Was I ever wrong!

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Goetteraemmerung!

He hemmed and hawed and then he told me. He just blurted it out, "Caprice isn't your real name. Your real name is Lauren. Your last name is Fischer. Your parents are still alive. They live in Rochester, New York. Your father is a Presbyterian minister. Your mother and father have been searching for you for over twelve years."

I was dumbstruck! I had parents? They were alive? New York? I felt my stomach turn in knots. I thought I would throw up. This can't be! I didn't know what to say, "Cayden..."

He shushed me, "Caprice, or I should say Lauren. It looks like you must have run away or something just after you turned eighteen. I hired someone to look in on your parents. They don't know where you are, but they're still frantic."

I was numb. I have parents. I tried to think. I remembered something about being in church. I remembered wearing a choir robe, but beyond that I just couldn't...no I remembered...I remembered a room. I was an only child. My parents; they were old. I looked at Cayden, "I don't...Cayden how did you...," I couldn't think. My mind wasn't functioning.

He reached across and took my hand, "I got your fingerprints from a water glass. You have an arrest record. With that it was easy to track back. Darling, you're parents have been looking for you for a long time."

Though I'd just eaten, my stomach felt hollow. I could feel my heart pounding. I felt like my head was about to explode. I was going to pass out! I knew what was coming. I knew what he was going to say. My mind rebelled, 'No Cayden don't!' I could see the words begin to roll off his tongue. I spoke before he could say another word, "You want me to go see them."

He took both my hands and squeezed, "God this is hard for me. I love you, but I could never live with myself knowing you have people who..."

A wave of unbelievable anguish swept over me, "You want me to leave. You're sending me away."

I knew what I'd just said wasn't true. I knew he wanted me to stay, but I saw the look in his eye. Knowing I had parents who were searching for me Cayden would never allow me to just stay.

He said, "No I don't want you to leave, but you have to anyway. You have to go home. You have to see your mom and dad. They need to know that you're alive. Jesus Caprice, I mean Lauren, they love you. You're all they have."

I pulled my hands away and pushed back my chair. I was so angry. I was so sad. I was so... Oh, I don't know what I was, "OK, I'll leave now, today," I felt terrible. No I was frantic! I only said what I did to hurt him. I saw the agony on his face. For some reason that made me feel better. Jesus, this was unbelievable! I had parents. I had to go home. Home! Home? Didn't he get it? I was home! Then I felt a rush of new emotions. I felt guilt, shame. I had a mom and dad. I remembered...sort of.

He answered me, "It's not what I want. Angie doesn't want it either. She's as devastated as I am. I've made arrangements..."

I felt like a trapped animal. This was wrong; all so wrong! I wanted to get up and run from the table. I couldn't breathe! Then just as quickly my distress metamorphosed into anger, "Oh you have..."

He interrupted me, "I bought you a car. It's in your name. There's a G.P.S. unit on the floor by the gear shift with directions to your parents. Del parked it outside earlier. He's upset too. Damn it, everybody's upset. I bought you some luggage. I filled them with most of your clothes. There's a bank account for you, and a credit card with $5,000.00 on it. I'm sorry, but I didn't think to arrange for you to have a credit score."

I was overwhelmed. I knew he was right. Of course he was right, he was always right. He's the do gooder; damn fucking farmer do gooder asshole. I held out my hand, "Keys."

He nervously reached in his pocket. I saw his hands were shaking. He pulled out a set of keys, "It's a grey Honda Accord." It's parked two cars from my, from our, truck."

I got up to go. He looked at me. He was crying, "Caprice, you know that I love you. I'll always love you. I guess you were right. I'm just a dumb farmer. I big dumb stupid farmer."

God he was breaking my heart! I knew he was right. I had to go. I didn't know what to say. I was angry, sad, numb, and I didn't know what else there was. I held up the keys, "Well I guess this is good bye." He started to cry. He started to sob. Great big tears started to roll down his cheeks. I had to get out of there. I turned and fled. I ran! I cried all the way out to the parking lot. I flicked the button that would cause the car lights to go on. I found the car, got in, inserted the key, started the engine, I backed up and pulled away.

This is the end of part six.

Well this is the end of part six. Part seven will be up in a day or so. I hope you're enjoying my story. Please leave a comment if you're inclined.