Chapter 5 - Cabin Fever
Lost in her thoughts and with a cigarette dangling between her fingers, Della was sitting in one of the deckchairs next to the front door. At this time of day the porch lay in the shadows and a soft breeze cooled off the afternoon heat. She had wanted to sew on the buttons of her white dress, but her hands were too sweaty and her mind too agitated to hold a needle. Defeated by her own nervousness she had given up on her task and now the dress lay across her lap. Perhaps she should consider throwing it away for good, instead of keeping it as a reminder of her present situation - and her personal failures.
On the table next to her lay a file she had found in Perry's bedroom. She had read it back and forth and the longer she thought about its contents, the more she became convinced of Perry's theory. Every lead Paul had discovered pointed at Richard's involvement in Rebecca's murder. Payments, meetings, phone records. It was all circumstantial evidence, but it was there. It sickened her to think Richard was capable of killing someone. She always thought she knew him better than anyone else. In her eyes Richard had always been one of the most upright and honest people she had ever met - just like Perry. Both men shared many good characteristics even if they would never admit to it. Could she have been wrong about Richard during all these years? Had she projected Perry's good deeds onto Richard? Or had the schemes and intrigues of Washington and his political career turned him into someone she couldn't recognize anymore?
She fished for a new cigarette and lit it. The smoking helped her to focus and gave her something to do; otherwise she would probably pace the place like a caged tiger. When Perry had left the house an hour ago, her first instinct had been to run away as fast as she could, but before she went home to face the inevitable, she had to figure out how to approach the subject of Paul's death with her husband.
Down on the street she heard a car approaching. Curious she sat up and saw Perry's Cadillac stopping next to her own car. Her time alone was over and goosebumps formed on her skin when she saw him. Would she ever stop feeling like a schoolgirl when she laid her eyes on him?
Armed with bags from the grocery store he slowly climbed up the stairs. He stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled, almost shy. "I wasn't sure you would still be here when I came back."
"Would you be offended, if I told you, I didn't know where else to go?" She asked.
"No." He sighed and nodded at the bags in his arms. "I bought us dinner."
"And I read Paul's file. It was in the drawer of your bedside cabinet," she explained, when she saw his puzzled expression. "I hope you don't mind, but I found it when I searched for a lighter."
"I see…. I'll be right back." He went inside and she heard him fussing with the grocery. When he came back he sank into the other chair. "So… where do we go from here?" He asked.
"As I see it, we have a killer to catch," she replied, knowing he was talking about their relationship rather than Paul's murder.
"Even if your husband is the main suspect?"
"Even if my husband is the main suspect," she confirmed with a heavy sigh. "And because offense is the best defense, I'll talk to him as soon as he returns from Los Angeles."
"I know I have no right to ask you, but…." He broke off, struggling to find the right words.
"I can't stay out of it, Perry," she said.
"I know you can't, but we can talk to him together."
"He won't listen to you…." Now she was the one who didn't know how to find the right words. "He'll know everything when he sees us together."
Trembling she reached out to get herself a new cigarette. He caught her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry."
She turned her face away, hoping he wouldn't notice the uprising tears. "That's the problem, Counselor… I'm not sorry. Not one bit."
For a moment they just sat there in silence, their fingers intertwined.
"There's one other thing, I have to ask," he said after a while.
"Hm?"
"Laura."
As always the mere mention of the name caused her heart to ache. She leaned back and wiped a lonely tear from the corner of her eye. "What about her?"
"What did she tell you?"
She shrugged. She didn't want to think about Laura, didn't want to think about the things this woman had thrown at her, after she had invaded Della's home like a trooper on a mission.
"I told you…. She asked me to find you and do whatever it takes to bring you home."
"Whatever it takes?"
"Her phrasing, not mine."
"What did she mean by that?"
Della sighed and shook off his hand to finally get a cigarette. "I think you know perfectly well what she meant," Della said, after he had given her fire.
"No, I don't."
"Don't you know your wife at all?"
"Della, please…."
She rolled her eyes. "All right… in her opinion you're obsessed with me and that I have some sort of spell over you. You haven't been yourself since Paul died and since she still loves you, she sends me out to find you. You know like some kind of a… boy scout."
"Did she really say that?"
Della chuckled. "No, but she was quite serious about it. She even gave me permission to seduce you, if it served the purpose of getting you out of your misery. She thinks you come running back to her anyway, once you've overcome your sadness over Paul's death." She knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn't help it.
She hated that Laura had been so right in almost everything she had said the other day. It was no secret Laura had gone astray more than once during her marriage, especially after Perry had given up his political career and now Della had proven she was no better - on the contrary. Perhaps she was worse, because her cheating was not meaningless or mindless. She had slept with a man who wasn't her husband and she had savored every single second of it, as if she had saved herself for that one time. Only that one time wasn't enough. That's why a part of her had always dreaded the day she would give into her feelings and make love to him again. She wanted more. Her body still craved for Perry, even though their love making had been one of the most satisfying experiences of her whole adult life; she longed for his mouth and hands to be all over her skin and yes, she wanted to feel him inside of her again and again. She wanted to hear him moaning her name and how much he wanted and loved her - only her.
With her eyelashes lowered she looked down onto her lap. She had to force herself to think about something else. There was no way she could stay here for another night. She shouldn't even stay for another hour. She needed to leave this place, before she made a decision she could never reverse - if she only found the strength to do so.
"I think I need something to drink," he said and rose. He returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
"I've never claimed to understand women," he said when he handed Della a glass. "But now I'm convinced, I will never even begin to understand them."
She shrugged. "Perhaps there's a part of her that really loves you after all..."
Surprised by her assessment he looked up from his glass. "You never cease to amaze me."
"Because I don't think Laura is incapable of love?"
"Because you admit it."
"Can we stop talking about her?" Della asked. "I don't think I can take any more of this."
Again they lapsed into silence and neither of them touched the wine Perry had poured them.
"Didn't you say something about dinner?" Della asked after some time had passed. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and she didn't want to touch the wine without having something substantial in her stomach.
"I did...," he said and gave her a side glance. "You can take care of salad... I take care of the steaks."
She laughed out loud. "You really think I'm a hopeless cook, don't you?"
"Oh, I know you are," he replied with a grin.
"That's my prompt," Della said and rose. "I'll call home to hear, if everything's all right."
"Didn't you say, Richard's not home?"
"He isn't. But my housekeeper Loretta should be there this afternoon. She's an excellent cook by the way."
Perry watched Della as she went inside the cabin. Involuntarily his eyes fell on her long, perfectly shaped legs. She wore one of his oversized shirts. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, hoping it would erase the memory of having his hands on her thighs while making love to her. He still felt her skin under his fingertip, heard her moans and her begging for more... God, how much he wanted her. His desire for her was carnal and pathetic in its intensity.
What a terrible mess, their lives had become within the last few hours.
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When Perry returned inside the cabin Della was in the bedroom. Through the open door he saw her sitting on the edge of the messed up bed, the receiver tug between her shoulder and her ear while she was folding her white dress. The shirt she wore was out of place, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. He could have watched her all day long, just reveling in her sight. It would be so much more innocent just to watch and dream about her compared to what he had done with her in this very room not such a long time ago.
Making love to her had been stupid and unforgivable, even though extremely satisfying and mind-blowing at the same time. He had no idea where the events of this day would lead them. He was stuck in this cabin, physically and mentally he couldn't think past these walls, although he knew he should better start doing so rather sooner than later.
He shouldn't stare at her, while she was calling her home, but he couldn't help himself. Across the room he sensed her nervousness, a result of the burden of a guilt-stricken conscious. Just as he convinced himself to look away, he noticed how she tensed up. The carefully folded dress fell off her knees and her hands clenched around the phone. Instinctively he stepped closer to hear what was going on.
"When did this happen?" He heard her asking in a shaking voice. "This morning... and where are they now?... How can you be sure...? Who called you?" She broke off, waited, sighed when she finished listening to whomever she was talking to, and looked up, when she saw him entering the bedroom. "I'm on my way, Loretta... and please, prepare a guest room... just in case."
"What's wrong?" Perry asked worried, once Della had hung up. She was as white as the sheet she was sitting on and she was trembling.
"From what I understood, there was a provoked accident with the car that was taking Richard, Ruben and Martha back from L.A. to Sacramento. Richard and Martha have some minor injuries, but Ruben..."
Startled, Perry sank down next to her and took her hand. It was cold as ice.
"What happened to him?"
"He's unconscious."
Feeling her desperation as if it were his own, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He wanted to comfort her, but she didn't move against him when he tried to pull her over. The reason, he figured, was, of course, the shock and the fear. "What do the doctors say?" He asked carefully.
"I don't know."
Until now she had been paralyzed, but all of the sudden, she freed herself and shot up from the bed and started hectically to collect her underwear and clothing from the floor. "I need to go home!"
"I'll drive you!"
"No."
"You're in no condition to drive," he reminded her matter-of-factly.
She threw her small suitcase on the bed and opened it. "Perhaps, but you can't drive me. Richard..."
"I don't think he wants you to have another accident." Perry said.
"This is about decency, Perry!" She snapped.
"We can argue about decency another time!" He grabbed her by her shoulders and gently pulled her over, so that she had to look at him.
"I'll drive you," he repeated softly, but determined. "You won't help your son or anyone else by having an accident yourself. If there's nothing for me to do or to help, I'll leave you again. I promise it!"
He saw she was fighting the internal fight of reason against emotion, and in the end reason won. Tears were swimming in her eyes, when she swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay... you'll drive. And now let me pack my things."
"Good." He affectionately squeezed her shoulder and then he released her. He wanted to hold her, to give her hope, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. All he could do was to make sure she returned home safely.
###tbc###
Happy Easter, my dear readers. Make the best of it!
