We Need to Talk Ch. 06

I sighed. "Of course we're good," I said, standing aside to let him in the house.

He'd spent two nights last week with my wife in his bed. Ostensibly, Myra went there to comfort him over the sudden death of his wife Helen, but I never agreed to her doing that. Myra and I had not first talked about it, and even worse, she had not called me, at all, for two days.

"I wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect, Dell. I know you've been upset with me, and for good reason, too."

Now was not the time for that discussion with Jillian in the next room, and I said so. She was still seated where I had left her, and she rose to standing when Rich and I entered the room. Rich introduced himself at once.

"You must be Jillian," he said and he shook her hand. Jillian smiled back while I completed the introductions.

"Jillian Haskell is Claire Haskell's daughter. And, I just found out, my daughter, too." I turned toward my daughter and extended my arm, and she came to stand by me. We gave each other hugs, side by side.

I could see surprise on Rich's face but he quickly recovered and a broad smile and twinkling eyes replaced his look of astonishment. He looked back and forth between Jillian and me.

"Of course, I can see that now. Jillian, you remind me so much of your mother and it looks like you inherited the best features of your father, too!" he said, and we all laughed.

We took seats at the kitchen table and drank more coffee while we caught up with Jillian's life, her father George's death two years ago, Jillian's recent high school graduation, and Claire and Jillian's move back to Claire's hometown and back into our lives.

"We're staying here until Mom and I can find our own place. Myra and Dad have been so gracious to us. We only got here last night," she said.

I was beaming inside with pride at Jillian's use of 'dad' to describe me, and I knew Rich had caught it, too, by the look he gave me.

"Jillian," he said, "your new dad is my best friend in the world and a fine man. You couldn't have done any better. I'm sorry George died; he was a good man, too. But your mom, my Helen, Myra, Rich, and I go back together a lot of years. If you don't mind, I'd like to adopt you as my honorary niece." He was only partly joking and his sincerity came through to Jillian.

I could see more tears in Jillian's eyes and she grasped both Rich's and my hands.

"Thank-you so much! I'd like very much to be your niece." She sniffled and wiped her eyes, then continued, "I feel like I've discovered a whole family I never knew I had, and I've still got a brother, a sister, and now two cousins yet to meet. It's pretty overwhelming."

Rich suddenly changed the subject and I could see a shadow pass his face.

"Jillian, please excuse your dad and me. I've got something important to show him," he said, and he lead me out the front door. We got to his car and he opened the trunk. Inside the trunk was a vest in a clear dry cleaner's bag.

"It's body armor, Dell, my old vest. The department replaces them every five years; this one is yours. It's a good one; new they cost a grand. Even out of date, it's still more than enough to stop almost any handgun."

"Why do I need this?" I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. I looked around the neighborhood as if assessing some unknown threat.

"My police buddy in Sacramento called me this morning. David Newton, your old nemesis, finally posted bond and is out pending trial. His wife, soon to be ex-wife, somehow tied up all his money and left him languishing in jail. A jailhouse snitch tipped my friend that Newton is obsessed with getting revenge on you and Myra. He talked about nothing else for weeks. We think it's serious because a license plate reader on I-5 got a hit on his plates just a few hours after he was let out of jail. Looks like he's coming this way, and he's not supposed to leave California."

My blood ran cold and my thoughts immediately turned to Myra, Claire, and Jillian. Rich and I had to protect them. We took the vest inside and, as Jillian silently watched, Rich showed me how to wear it.

"I'd like you all to come stay with me until we get this sorted out. I've got room for you all. Dell, your home address is listed in the phone book but mine isn't. I've got the whole department looking for him. We'll get him," Rich said, but I could see he was worried, too.

*****

Winston Butler was clearly annoyed with me. We sat in his lavish corner office, having an intense conversation about personal protection. He was seated in an oversize leather chair parked behind a large, dark wooden desk. It was free of any papers, or anything at all save a large phone, a large blotter, and a large pen holder. There was no sign of any work in progress, which only confirmed my suspicions that hospital administrators spent their days in meetings and other idle pursuits, all the more irritating because his handsome salary was easily three or four times mine.

"Dr. Cooper," he began, with an air of exasperation, "hospital regulations and the medical staff bylaws both are quite clear on this subject. The hospital and all the grounds, including the parking lots, is a gun-free zone. Surely you've seen the signs. This applies to medical staff, too. These policies have been approved by the Board of Trustees and I am not free to change their policies." He looked at me with a forced half smile.

I knew his professed lack of authority was untrue because, even though we were a Catholic hospital, tubal ligations were performed, and even an occasional termination of pregnancy was slipped by under the guise of a therapeutic D&C. All were performed against regulations. Some administrator, somewhere, had to approve those procedures, even though they were all nominally against hospital regulations.

I'd never liked the guy. He was part of the new breed of MBAs, lawyers, and MPHs who had taken over medicine. Interfacing with government agencies and negotiating with insurance companies and unions was their world. His layer of bureaucracy worked regular eight hour, five day a week schedules and never on weekends, nights, or holidays like physicians did. They never confronted trauma, blood, human waste, infectious disease, or dying patients and their distraught families. They really had no idea what it was like to practice medicine with all its stresses and uncertainties, although they all thought they knew how to manage us. Even the term 'practicing medicine' was an archaic term because doctors, nurses, all ancillary professions, and technicians of all sorts were lumped together as 'health care providers'. We didn't practice medicine, we provided health.

He continued. "Besides, a security guard is on duty 24 hours a day, everyday." There was that forced smile again. I sighed to myself.

"Those guys are unarmed, and they cover the whole hospital, not just the emergency department," I replied. I knew what he would say, and he did.

"Doctor, those men are armed in accordance with hospital policy. They have access to firearms kept safely locked in the security office."

We kept this pointless conversation going far too long but we both tried to end it on a pleasant note. It was clear I wasn't going to be permitted to carry a gun or keep one handy while I was working in the ER. Somehow, I failed to mention my body armor to Winston Butler. I had checked. There was no prohibition against body armor in the hospital regulations or the medical staff bylaws.

*****

That evening after dinner, Myra and I went for a walk around the neighborhood, and I was armed. With the sudden arrival of Claire and Jillian, we'd never directly talked about the two nights Myra had spent right after Helen had died, sleeping in Rich's bed.

As we walked I kept my head on a swivel and my eyes moving, looking for a white Mustang or any other sign of David Newton.

"Myra, I know you were comforting Rich and I know he was distraught, maybe suicidal. But why didn't you call me? You were gone two days and you kept me in the dark the whole time. That hurt me as much as knowing you'd slept in his bed." I didn't want to sound whiney, but I could hear myself whine.

"Honey, I did send you those texts. You knew where I was. But Rich and I didn't have sex that night. We just held each other until we fell asleep. He needed me."

This I already knew, and I'd already decided I believed Myra when she said they hadn't had sex.

"That next day there were so many things to do, we were busy all day, and it just seemed right to make dinner for him, too. Then, Rich's younger brothers came over and we had a nice evening. Rich seemed a lot better. But then, after they left, Rich seemed to get worse again so I just decided to stay. It was late and I didn't want to leave him alone; he might have harmed himself. I didn't think you'd mind after...you know...our weekend at the lake house."

She was gripping my hand while she looked up at me. I could see worry on her face. She could have called me, she could have asked my permission.

"Babe, tell me true. Did you and Rich have sex that second night?" I tried to keep my voice gentle, but there is no gentle way to ask such an intimate question.

I felt her body stiffen and she looked away, and I knew. She'd been shading her language, trying to imply what had not happened the first night, had also not happened the second night.

"Babe?" I asked again.

She remained silent and we stopped walking. I turned her toward me and lifted her chin. I could see her eyes brim over with tears, and her chin quivered.

"Are you going to divorce me? Because I couldn't stand that, Dell. I know I shouldn't have...but it just seemed so natural, so necessary, so needed. I knew we'd said only at the lake house and only when we were all together, but..." Her voice trailed off and she began a series of wracking sobs, and she wrapped her arms around my waist. We held each other for long minutes while she recovered. I scanned all around, looking for David Newton.

I gave her a Kleenex and she blew her nose. I thought of what I had, and what I stood to lose. The decision was easy.

"No, Babe, I'm not going to divorce you. But I'm very disappointed in you. You should have called. You texted me to not to call you, and I didn't call. And what about Rich's little brothers, what about those two rug rats?" I asked.

We started walking again and then she stopped me.

"What? Do you mean...? No! How could you even think that?" she said.

"Myra, I've got to hear it from you. Yes or no. Did you have any sort of sex with Rich's brothers?"

"Absolutely not! Not even!" she said.

*****

That night we had the house to ourselves because Claire and Jillian had moved their things to Rich's home and under his more capable protection from David Newton. Claire's plans for house hunting also went on hold until David Newton was in police custody. Unaccountably, I'd found our talk that afternoon had put me in a strange, aroused mood.

Rich's brothers were just little children when Myra, Rich, Helen, Claire and I were seniors in high school. Now they were men in their late 30s, and both unmarried. Mitch was divorced and ran his own diesel truck repair business. Arnold, the younger, was a millwright at the Weyerhaeuser wood products plant and still single. I didn't know them well but they seemed like good guys. Big, strong, younger guys. I could imagine what they'd like to do with Myra, especially with Rich leading the parade.

Our first round of coupling that night was rough and fast; reclamation sex. Jealousy is a pure emotion not subject to logic or analytical thinking. I fucked my wife with pure, hard emotion. She was mine, she had strayed, and I wanted her to know she belonged to me. She loved it and she came hard, gripping me tightly as her body convulsed and shivered. After a brief interlude we started again, more gently this time.

"Whose pussy is this, Myra darling?" I asked her as I rhythmically plowed her center, enjoying the silky smoothness of her just-used pussy.

"It's your pussy, Dell, only yours. Yours to fuck whenever you like, however you want."

"That's right, Myra, that's my pussy. And it's mine to share with Rich at the lake house anytime I want, too. But only when I say so, right Baby?"

I felt her gasp beneath me, and I felt her sudden urgency.

"You wouldn't! Oh, fuck!" she moaned.

"Don't tell me what I can do with my pussy. I might give you to Rich and his brothers for a whole weekend. I'd tell them to fuck you senseless, and don't tell me I can't or I won't. I'll bet those guys would fuck you until you couldn't walk straight."

Myra's eyes flew open and her mouth opened in surprise. Bingo! She stared at me without seeing, and began a low, deep moaning that crescendoed into a full-throated wail. Her whole body went stiff and she spasmed and jerked for minutes in powerful aftershocks. Her pelvic muscles gripped my cock and caused me to have my second, and last, orgasm of the night. We fell asleep without cleaning up, still connected, and slept soundly through the night.

In the morning, after our ablutions, we resumed cuddling in the warm bed. Neither of us was willing to interrupt the closeness.

Myra spoke first. "Do you still love me, Wendell?"

"Yes, I love you, Myra. I've never stopped loving you."

"But you still want to fuck Claire, don't you," Myra said as we held each other. It was a statement, not a question, and she was trying to provoke me. I thought for a moment before answering. I wanted to be truthful.

"Yes, I do. But I won't fuck Claire, and here's why. It wouldn't be fair to you, it wouldn't be fair to Claire because that's all I could offer her, sex, and it wouldn't be fair to Jillian. I don't want to be a bad example for her."

Myra smiled and asked, "What about Rich? Would it be fair to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you seen the way he was looking at Claire? And she was looking at him? I think Rich was fucking your girlfriend last night, same as us," Myra said.

"What? She's not my girlfriend anymore."

This kind of coarse language was not typical of Myra, in fact, it was distinctly new for her. I wondered again at how those two night of sex with Rich at the lake house and again in his home had transformed her, sexually. I'd always known Myra to have a higher sex drive than me, but after sex with Rich she'd become far more demonstrative. Of course, I was partly to blame because I'd allowed it, even facilitated it. All the unintended consequences that followed, including her most recent stay in Rich's bed, followed from my decision.

"Look, Myra, I don't think so. For one thing, Jillian's with them. And second, Rich and Claire just met again after twenty years apart," I said. "But if Rich wants to have a relationship with Claire, it's none of my business."

"I think you're jealous," Myra teased.

She was right.

*****

Thanks for reading. Sorry for the delay, but life got in the way of writing. This chapter was short but there's more to the story. I'll get the final chapter out as soon as I can manage. I'm still getting comments and emails about the previous chapters, which is gratifying. I'm glad so many of you have enjoyed it. Please keep the feedback coming, good or bad! If you include a return email address, I'll reply.