Fair Play, Colorado
While Addy and the kids passed halcyon days at the farm, Lionel busily prepared for his trip to Denver. He was scheduled to arrive at Stapleton Airfield on December 28 at 6:00 p.m., but hadn’t a clue if Mistress Irena would be there to pick him up. She was always aloof and mysterious, qualities that drove Lionel wild.
Lionel smiled smugly as he packed the expensive ski jacket Helena gave him for Christmas. He interpreted her generous gesture as a sign of affection and was certain the farm would soon be in his brother’s hands. In the days leading up to his departure, Lionel could not concentrate on his work. He told his new protégé, Michael Russell, he would be out of town for a few days checking on some accounts in Colorado. Crafty Lionel did not want the higher-ups knowing too much about his travels, or they might examine the books more carefully. The company was thriving, and most of the executives were out of town for the holidays. They trusted Lionel and rarely questioned anything that he did. He would be back before they even noticed he was gone.
Lionel asked Mike to keep the information about the Colorado trip close to the vest, just in case the accounts did not result in sales. As an incentive, Lionel offered Mike the use of his office while he was away. Wet behind the ears and eager to please, Michael assured Lionel that he would not breathe a word about the trip, but he asked Lionel what he should say in case anyone asked. Thinking for a moment, Lionel responded, “Just tell them I had to go out of town suddenly for a family matter. Then if I score big on these accounts, they’ll have a hell of a surprise, right Mike?”
“Right, right, you betcha, Mr. Roberge,” Mike agreed enthusiastically.
“Don’t be so formal, son. Call me Lionel,” he said, stretching his hand out to Michael ingratiatingly.
On the morning of December 28, a snowstorm hit Connecticut, and Lionel worried about his flight. Fortunately, the storm subsided by early afternoon, the runways were cleared, and planes departed as scheduled. Lionel had arranged for a taxi to pick him up in plenty of time for his reservation.
As soon as he arrived at Bradley International Airport, Lionel headed straight for the bar. He was not afraid to fly, but when the plane hit turbulence, he got nervous. Knowing he would soon experience a session with Mistress Irena always made him a little jumpy. What would she do this time? Would he make a fool of himself? Maybe she would get disgusted and refuse to see him ever again. His uneasiness mixed with a sense of dread.
Lionel often questioned why he kept going back for more of these meetings. He had figured out that the pain of bondage and discipline served as atonement for his fallen nature. In addition, his time with Mistress Irena was incredibly arousing and a replacement for the satisfaction his wife should be providing. His wife. Addy. What a huge mistake that was. Sure, he had gotten his Catholic virgin but had to accept her peculiarities along with it. She had no interest in pleasing him. If she had, maybe he would not lose his temper and have to beat and rape her. Maybe if she put on a sexy negligee and sucked his dick regularly, he would treat her better. There was no hope for Addy. She was getting worse. To hell with Addy. Lionel was on his way to see a real woman.
When his plane finally touched down in Denver, Lionel searched the faces of the people waiting at the arrival gate, but he did not see Mistress Irena among the crowd. Disappointed, he took a taxi to his hotel, checked in, and went up to his room to wait for her call. She did not call. What if this time, she never shows up?
Lionel stirred fitfully in his bed, waiting for the phone to ring. No call came through--not during the night; nor the morning; not even by afternoon. He was getting hungry and headed for the hotel restaurant. Afraid he may have missed his call, Lionel checked at the front desk to see if he had any messages.
The front desk manager assured him that guests were promptly notified of calls. Lionel ordered a sandwich and a few shots of bourbon then headed back upstairs. While turning his key in his room door, Lionel heard the phone ring. He tripped over his feet, and his heart raced as he ran to answer it.
“Lionel?” Mistress Irena said in a flat tone. “I couldn’t pick you up at the airport because I had some problems out at the cabin. They’re fixed so I’m leaving soon to come get you. Be ready. Good-bye.”
Lionel was speechless. He had not had a chance to say anything. That is how she was, though: all business most of the time. Elated that she had called, Lionel became aroused in anticipation of what was to come. He watched the clock until the front desk finally telephoned him to say he had a visitor. Lionel rushed down to check out, and the desk clerk informed him his visitor said she would wait for him outside in her car.
Mistress Irena was driving a shiny black Lincoln Capri hardtop. Boy, could Lionel get used to a vehicle like that; nice-looking and fast, too. He placed his suitcases on the back seat and then slid across the supple, beige leather front seat.
Starting the ignition, Mistress Irena looked straight ahead and asked distractedly, “Did you have a good flight?”
Knowing that details bored Irena, Lionel replied quickly, “It was fine.”
Mistress Irena sped through small villages until they were far from any civilization. The sky suddenly seemed blacker and the stars brighter than Lionel had ever seen in his life. He wondered how far they had left to drive but did not dare to ask. He was hungry and tired. The snow was falling more heavily now, the roads becoming more slippery.
In spite of the slick roads, Mistress Irena continued speeding, losing control of the vehicle a few times. She seemed to enjoy recovering from the spins, but Lionel feared she would kill them both for sure. After what seemed like days on the dark and treacherous mountain passages, they finally reached the lodge.
Lionel had imagined that Mistress Irena’s ski chalet would resemble a scary dungeon. To the contrary, it was a large, pleasant-looking log home with warm lights glowing invitingly through the icicled windows. Irena pulled into the long driveway. Lionel removed his luggage from the back seat and dutifully followed behind his Mistress up the front path.
When she unlocked the heavy door and Lionel got his first glimpse of the place, he was dumbfounded. The only time he had seen anything like this was in a travel magazine: post and beams; cathedral ceilings; one whole wall of windows that looked out onto the wilderness in back; a huge fieldstone fireplace … it was magnificent.
Before Lionel had a chance to look around, Mistress Irena said, “There is supper on the stove. Your suite is the first one on the right at the top of the stairs. I’m tired and am going to bed now. See you in the morning.”
Lionel barely had time to set his bags down, and Mistress Irena was already gone. She was an enigma. Lionel went into the kitchen and found a pot of beef stew simmering on the stove. There were biscuits in a basket, some bottles of beer, and an apple pie. Good food. Very good food.
The wind howled all night, and Lionel slept late. He dressed quickly, hoping Mistress Irena would not think him a slug. When he got downstairs, she was sitting at the dining room table, drinking coffee. She seemed to be in better spirits this morning, and smiling, she asked, “Did you sleep well?”
“Great, great,” Lionel stammered. “I hope I didn’t sleep too late.”
“No worries. This is your vacation. You can sleep as long as you like. How was the supper?”
“Delicious. Thank you. You’re a great cook.”
Irene laughed. “I don’t cook. We have a regular cook, but when I come up here, Flossie always packs special meals. She’s a living doll. She has been with me since I was a child and was with my mother before that.”
Flossie had also prepared a breakfast strata, which was warming in the oven. “I DO make coffee. Would you like some?”
“Oh, don’t wait on me. I can get it myself,” Lionel said.
Mistress Irena laughed once again. “Don’t worry. You’ll be doing as I say soon enough.”
It was a gorgeous day. The snow had stopped, and sun streamed into the wall of windows. Mistress Irena made a fire, and the two unlikely companions sat on the sofa eating strata and sipping coffee. After breakfast, Mistress told Lionel she was going out for a walk, and he could amuse himself as he liked. Obviously, she did not want Lionel to accompany her. Anything that smacked of romance or relationship was never on her agenda.
Lionel cleaned up the breakfast dishes and then looked around the chalet. He expected to find a room filled with equipment that Mistress Irena would use to dominate her slave, but he found nothing. Maybe there was a secret locked dungeon. He dozed in front of the fire until he was hungry again and found some sandwiches in the icebox.
The sun had nearly set when Lionel heard someone walking up the front path. He hoped to hell that it was Irena because he did not know how he would explain his presence there to anyone else. Irena burst through the front door, carrying an armload of wood. Her cheeks were pink from her long walk in the woods and wisps of her raven hair framed her beautiful face. Lionel stood gaping at her until she became irritated and barked, “Don’t just stand there. Help me unload the wood.”
Lionel quickly obeyed, taking the logs from her arms and piling them into the woodbin. One night and nearly a whole day had passed, but Mistress Irena had made no moves toward him. Maybe she had changed her mind and decided Lionel was not suitable.
Mistress Irena said she was going upstairs to take a nap and told Lionel to put supper in the oven to heat. Flossie had made chicken croquettes with cream sauce and peas and even included a note explaining the warming instructions. Lionel did as she said. In the vegetable drawer, he found lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers so he put together a salad. He grabbed a bottle of beer and waited for Mistress Irena to come downstairs for dinner.
She must have set her alarm because as soon as the oven timer dinged, she was in the kitchen. Lionel carried the food into the dining room, where he had set a festive table with a red and green tartan plaid cloth and red candles. If Mistress Irena was impressed, she did not show it.
Before they sat down to eat, Irena asked Lionel to go into the wine cellar and bring up a bottle of Austrian white wine, “The Chateau Mouton Rothschild, ’49.”
Lionel panicked. He did not want to appear the fool, but he had never been in a wine cellar. What if the bottles were classified by a system he did not understand, and he was unable to find the wine his Mistress requested?
When he went down into the wine cellar, Lionel was relieved to discover that the wines were sorted by regions, with producers and vintages grouped together. It took him no time at all to spot the bottle Irena wanted.
They quickly finished off that bottle, and Mistress Irena required another and another, each wine from a different country and vintage. Although these rare wines were not strong, Lionel and Irena drank so many bottles that Lionel was getting drunk. Mistress handled her alcohol well and never lost decorum.
After Lionel lost count of how many times he brought another bottle up from the basement, Mistress Irena finally said, “I think it is time. Go upstairs and take a shower.”
Lionel tried not to stumble as he made his way upstairs to his bathroom. He was tempted to collapse on his bed, but he knew it was now or never. He had been waiting so long for this opportunity, and nothing was going to get in his way.
While Lionel showered, Mistress Irena changed into one of her many dominatrix outfits. She most always wore black leather, but tonight she chose gold. “Why not get into the spirit of the season?” she said to herself wryly. She stripped naked and then slipped into her gold leather cat suit, pulled a tight-fitting gold hood over her head, donned her gold stilettos, and found her gold whip. This instrument was one of her favorites. She got out her bag of fetish bondage devices, took one last look in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw. Now she was truly MISTRESS IRENA. She could escape into the world in which she was in charge; where she meted out the pain that was stored inside of her. Only now did she feel alive.
Lionel was not sure how he should dress so he nervously pulled his bathrobe over his naked body. When he got downstairs, Mistress Irena was not there. His heart pounded with anticipation. After what seemed like hours, his Mistress Irena, breathtakingly beautiful, slowly descended the staircase. In her outfit of gold, she seemed an avenging angel, ready to punish him with her golden whip that sported many studded leather straps.
The post and beam construction of the chalet had large, smooth tree trunks that held up the second floor balcony, and the balcony wrapped around the living room. There were arms of wood jutting out from the main beams, forming right triangles to support the second floor. Lionel had not noticed before, but he suddenly realized these structures resembled crosses.
Mistress Irena demanded that he remove his robe. She first got a ball gag for his mouth and covered the gag with a locking leather cover. She got the step stool and told Lionel to stand up on it, facing the tree trunk beam. Lionel followed her instructions while she went up a few stairs. She then had him stretch out his arms and raise them above his head while she bound his wrists to the cross beams. Irena came back downstairs, tied Lionel’s ankles together, and then pulled the stool out from under him.
Lionel was hanging from the posts by his wrists. Mistress Irena knew that this position could not be maintained safely for a long time so she had plenty of other tortures planned for the rest of the evening. She began flogging Lionel first lightly, then progressively harder. He did not cry out because the ball gag silenced any screams. Although Mistress Irena was always in control of herself, she had had more wine than usual. She beat and whipped relentlessly, losing track of time.
When she awakened from her frenzied zone of domination, Mistress Irena suddenly realized Lionel was hanging there longer than what was advisable. She quickly put the step stool under his feet so that he could climb down, and she untied the ropes from around his ankles. She would give him a chance to rest until they moved on to their next session.
“Step down,” she commanded. Lionel did not move. “Step down,” she repeated harshly.
For an instant, Mistress Irena felt foolish. His wrists were still tied. Lionel hung there completely limp. I must be losing it … I forgot to untie him, Irena thought seriously, as she rushed upstairs to loosen his bloodied wrists from the crossbeams. As soon as she undid the knots, Lionel’s flaccid body crashed to the floor. Irene ran downstairs to remove Lionel’s ball gag. He was not participating. He seemed comatose. His eyes were closed and saliva was dripping from his mouth. Shaking him, she shouted, “Wake up! WAKE UP! It’s over!”
But Lionel did not wake up. She put her ear to his chest to listen for his breathing. She felt his pulse, frantically searching for a heartbeat. Nothing. She tried compressing his chest repeatedly. She tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Nothing. Nothing.
Irene panicked. Had she killed a man? She had played like this countless times before, and no one ever got hurt. What should she do? Whenever Irene was in trouble, the first person who always came to mind was Flossie. She ran to the telephone and dialed her home number, praying that Flossie would answer.
Providentially, Flossie picked up the phone. “Good evening, the Bauer residence.”
“Oh, thank God, it’s you, Flossie,”
“Why, Miss Irene. Are you having a nice retreat at your cabin? Did you like the food I fixed?”
Irene felt as if she would vomit at any second. “Flossie,” she pleaded. “I’m in trouble. I need your help. Can you get Otis to drive you out here as soon as possible? I can take you home tomorrow. Oh, please, Flossie. I need you.”
Flossie didn’t like the tone of Irene’s voice. She and Irene had been through many trials together, but Flossie never remembered Irene sounding this desperate.
“OK, child. I’ll get my things together and come just as soon as I can.”
“Hurry Flossy, hurry--and don’t let Otis come in.”
Irene paced the floor, wondering what she should do. Should she call the police? How would she explain this dead man in her house? What should she say happened? She ran upstairs to get a bed sheet and threw it over Lionel’s body. Then she sat of the sofa, immobilized with fear, waiting for Flossie to come.
The ride out to Irene’s chalet was a long and hazardous one, and Flossie kept praying Otis would keep the car on the road. His eyesight was not what it used to be, and he did not fancy driving at night. Flossie prayed, too, that whatever Irene had done this time could be fixed.
When they finally found the chalet, Otis asked Flossie if he could walk her up to the door, but Flossie quickly joked, “I’m old, but I’m not THAT old yet. I can make it just fine, thank you, Mr. Otis.”
Otis laughed and told Flossie to call if she and Miss Irene needed anything at all. Flossie waited for Otis to pull out of the driveway, and then she rapped on the front door. Irene went running to answer the knock, forgetting she was still dressed in her gold dominatrix cat suit.
“Well, I’ll be, Miss Irene. Were you having a costume party?” Flossie queried innocently.
By this time Irene began to cry uncontrollably, and Flossie spied what looked like a body covered with a bed sheet. Frightened, she slowly walked over to the sheet and gently pulled it aside. When she saw a naked dead man lying there, she let out a howl, “Oh, Glory Be to God!”
Wailing, she knelt down, pulled the sheet back up over the man, and automatically began reciting Psalm 20:
“The Lord hear thee in thy day of trouble; the names of the God of Jacob defend thee; Send thee help from the sanctuary, a …”
Irene shouted wildly, “Flossie, you can’t take time to pray. You have to help me. You have to help me get his body out of here.”
“Miss Irene. I cannot help you with that. I would be covering up a murder. That would be too great a sin for me to bear. We have to call the police.”
“Flossie, I didn’t murder him, I swear. He died. He just died. I think he had a heart attack. I can’t let the police come here. You know what it would do to my family. Oh, Flossie, I know I have asked you to do so many things that went against your conscience, but I promise I will never ask you again. Please, please, help me.”
Flossie wept silently. She knew she could never refuse Irene anything. Irene was in so many ways her own daughter. If Irene had gone wrong, then Flossie must be at fault. After all, she raised her.
Irene tucked the sheet around Lionel and went upstairs to get a blanket. She had Flossie lift Lionel under his shoulders while she lifted his legs, and they moved him onto the blanket. Then they dragged his body out to Irene’s car. Lionel was heavy, and his body left drag marks in the snow.
“What are we going to do with him, Miss Irene?” Flossie asked in disbelief.
“We can throw his body off Peregrine Cliff. The snow down in the valley is so deep no one will find him.”
“Lord, forgive us,” Flossie prayed.
They stuffed his body into the back seat, but had trouble getting the back door to close all the way. Flossie climbed into the front passenger seat, and Irene sped off.
“Slow down, slow down, honey,” Flossie cautioned. “No use getting us killed, too.”
Irene kept speeding, frantic to unload Lionel as quickly as she could. What had gone wrong? Why had he died? Maybe he had choked to death or had a heart attack. Lost in thought, Irene pushed the pedal to the floor. She did not see the huge bull elk bounding toward the road. Even if she had seen him in time, there would be no way of avoiding him. He was colossal, maybe 500 pounds or more, with giant antlers. Disoriented by the headlights, the elk ran straight in front of the car. The impact was so strong that the car lifted off the ground--there was bloody screaming, shattering glass, crushing metal, cracking bones, shredding flesh--an unidentifiable mass of ugly chaos. The elk lay lifeless, entrails steaming, guts spilling onto the pristine white snow.
The rear door of the car, not tightly closed, flew open, and Lionel, tossed like a bag of trash, landed in the bloodied mess. If Helena could see Lionel’s naked body lying next to the elk, she would likely think, “What a fitting ending for a bully like Lionel. Now he can’t push Addy around anymore. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
* * * * *
The Richters and Bauers went regularly to see Flossie in the Jefferson County Hospital. She was the only one who had miraculously survived the car crash, but she remained in a coma. Both Irene and Sam’s parents knew that in order to protect their reputations, they had to keep the details of the accident out of the papers. The members of the first aid squad were paid to keep their mouths shut. As far as they were concerned, the only two people discovered at the scene of the accident were Irene and Flossie.
Flossie may have known what really happened, but the doctors were uncertain when or even if she would awaken from her coma. Weeks passed, and Flossie remained asleep. Visits from the Richters and Bauers became less frequent, but there was one person who came almost daily to sit by Flossie’s hospital bed: Reverend Edward Thomas, the pastor of Flossie’s church. He read Bible passages aloud to her, confident that she could hear him. Other church members came regularly to pray with Pastor Thomas. They trusted that in His time, God would awaken Flossie from her deep sleep.
That glorious day finally came. Flossie opened her eyes, and much to her great surprise, found herself in a hospital bed with Reverend Thomas seated next to her. She could hear but could not speak. Reverend Thomas gently explained that she had been in a car accident and had been asleep for quite some time.
Flossie had no recollection of the accident. The last thing she remembered was Otis driving her out to Irene’s ski house. Eventually, Flossie was able to form words. Once she started speaking coherently, the Bauers and Richters immediately came to visit. Although they loved Flossie dearly, they had secretly hoped she might not wake up from the coma so that there would be no chance of her revealing the details of the crash. The first question Flossie asked was, “Is Otis OK?”
Mrs. Richter explained that Otis was fine but that Irene was killed. Flossie was in shock and cried and cried. Try as she may, she could not recollect anything about that night. Somehow, she had escaped alive, but poor, dear little Irene was gone. Even when the police came to question Flossie, she was of no help. When she tried to think, her head would hurt something fierce.
Flossie could remember so many particulars of Irene’s life from when she was first born until she was grown. She just couldn’t remember how Irene died. With all the privilege and money in the world, Irene still had an unhappy life in the end. Flossie prayed that her angel was safely at peace in the arms of Jesus. That poor child never had a chance in this life. That young man Glenn had ruined her. Maybe she was better off.
The Reverend continued to visit Flossie until she was feeling stronger and almost ready to go home. But Flossie didn’t want to go home now that Irene was gone. She had never really had a place of her own, and maybe it was time. Flossie asked the Reverend to check if anyone in the congregation had a room to rent. He promised he would do as she asked, and then shyly turning the brim of his hat round and round in his hands added, “Sister Butler, when you get settled in your new place, may I come to call on you?”
Flossie looked at Reverend Thomas as if he had just stepped out of a flying saucer. Come to call, she thought. Why would Reverend Thomas want to call on ME? Then she remembered he was a widower. Flossie had admired him for all the years she was in the choir. He was a gentleman, and not bad to look at, either. Oh how Irene would tease her if she could see her now.
“That would be fine, Reverend Thomas. Maybe you could help me in my Bible study. I appreciate your Biblical wisdom so.”
“First, I would like to invite you out to dinner,” Reverend Thomas said nervously. Then he got up quickly with a hasty, “Good day, Miss Butler. See you soon.”
Flossie was astounded. She had never married, and at her age, she never considered doing so. Now you stop that, Flossie, she chided herself. The Reverend must just feel sorry for you because of the accident and the loss of your dear Irene. That must be what it’s about.
Flossie shut her eyes and turned on her side. Who would have ever imagined she might be leaving the Richters and Bauers to live on her own? She knew they would object, but now that Irene was gone, her work for them was done. As she drifted off, Flossie imagined herself in her finest blue silk suit and hat, serving punch and pastries in the fellowship hall after the Sunday service. Emma Brown would come up to Flossie and whisper, “Reverend Thomas gave such a fine sermon this morning. He was always good, but since he married you, he’s even better.” With that sweet fantasy in her heart, Flossie fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.
The police had also been paid off generously to keep quiet about the naked man found in the snow near Irene’s car. The stiff obviously had no identification on him, and the rope burns on his wrists and welts up and down his back puzzled the medical examiner. One thing was certain: he had been dead before the accident. The coroner listed the cause of death as “cardiac arrest resulting from asphyxiation.”
* * * * *
While Addy and the children were at the farm, Lionel had never called. Addy was getting anxious, but not because she wanted Lionel to return. She liked to be let down slowly, not taken off guard when he was suddenly back in town. Addy mentioned to Helena that it was odd that Lionel had not called once since he left for Colorado.
“What’s wrong? Do you miss the beast?” Helena joked.
“Of course not. I wish he would stay away forever, but I have to come down off my cloud and gradually face reality.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. It’s New Year’s Eve, and we are going to celebrate. Just think. For all our lives, we have had to listen to Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians on the radio and count as the ball we couldn’t see dropped in Times Square. How boring. This year we can watch it on my snazzy new TELEVISION!” Helena had bought a beautiful 17-inch Zenith console TV as a Christmas present to herself, and for the kids, of course.
“Now, you’re going to let the kids stay up and watch Guy Lombardo, aren’t you, Addy? We can get drunk after they go to bed.”
Helena had another surprise for Addy and the kids. She had purchased TV trays and Swanson frozen TV dinners, something that had recently come on the market. Addy always insisted upon making everything from scratch, but Helena planned to start the New Year off right by getting Addy out of the kitchen. Helena bought several frozen turkey dinners. These TV dinners were nifty little things, really; her kind of cooking. The aluminum pans were sectioned off with compartments for meat, potatoes, and vegetables. All you had to do was pop them in the oven, heat, and enjoy.
As soon as Addy started bustling around the kitchen to prepare a fancy New Year’s Eve dinner, Helena, with a flourish, opened the freezer door. “Ta Dah. No cooking for you tonight, my dear. We are now part of the new American frontier. Television and dinners to eat in front of the television.”
Addy was aghast at the suggestion. The kids had talked about their friends having these new frozen dinners, but Lionel would never have allowed them in his home. In fact, they didn’t even have a TV yet. Not wanting to seem unappreciative of Helena’s surprise, Addy remained quiet. She had a flashback of the Italian ladies laboring over the steaming pots of pasta at Sound View Beach and imagined them shaking their heads in disgust at this new invention. “You calla-data FOOD?” Maybe it was best that most of them had passed on. This world was moving much too quickly for folks from “the old country.”
“Don’t you like my surprise, Addy? It will save you hours of cooking. Besides, it’s about time we got MODERN!”
The weather was exceptionally mild for December, and the kids had been playing outside all day. They would have to return to school on January 3, but until then they pretended that Christmas vacation on the farm would last forever.
Unlike Addy, the kids loved the idea of watching the ball drop in Times Square and eating their dinner in front of the TV. Guy Lombardo’s New Year’s Eve party at the Waldorf Astoria started around ten o’clock, with formally dressed revelers dancing to the sweet sounds of the orchestra. Mary marveled at the women’s beautiful gowns and wondered how people got invited to that party. The ballroom was packed, and the dancers seemed to push their way in front of the TV camera. Mary thought that maybe someday, if she were important enough, she could wear a gorgeous gown and dance on TV, too.
The kids could barely keep their eyes open until midnight but were determined to stay awake and watch, for the first time, the ball dropping from a tall building in New York. When the counting began, everyone came to life again, jumped up, and counted along. New Year’s Eve was always magical to Addy. In spite of her dreary existence in the past, she held out the hope that something good just might happen in the New Year. At 11:59, just as the ball was touching down, they all jumped and shouted, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” hugging and kissing one another. Then the Guy Lombardo Orchestra broke into its famous, “Auld Lang Syne.” The people in the streets at Times Square were going wild; waving banners, blowing party horns, releasing balloons. How wonderful it was to see the festivities for the first time. The kids felt as if they were right there.
Addy walked the kids up to bed while Helena started shaking the whiskey sours. The kids fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.
Helena and Addy sat at the kitchen table gazing out the window. The air had turned cold and large snowflakes were flying. The silent peace of the first day of the New Year was impalpable. Addy hated to break the spell of this beautiful scene, but she was worrying about something. Because the kids would have to return to school on the third, she would have to leave tomorrow to start getting their clothes ready.
When Addy mentioned what was on her mind, Helena said dreamily, “Don’t talk about it tonight, OK? We still have plenty of time to make plans.”
Addy breathed a sigh of relief and put her hand over Helena’s, saying, “You always make me feel better.”
After several whiskey sours, the two friends helped one another up the stairs and collapsed in their beds.
Everyone slept late the next morning. Jimmy asked Helena if there were TV breakfasts, but Helena said she didn’t think they were invented yet. They all lazed around on New Year’s Day, and before they knew it, January 2 snuck up on them. Helena asked Addy if she would like to go home and get the children’s clothes and things ready to go back to school. The thought of going back to her house left Addy with a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she knew she had to return sometime. Cosmo was working around the farm, so Addy felt comfortable leaving the kids there with him for a while.
Helena drove Addy home and offered to come inside to help her. Addy did not refuse. She hated to face her house alone. It was cold and gloomy in there so Helena went around opening the drapes and blinds. Addy made some coffee and then went upstairs to collect the kids’ school outfits from their closets and hampers. Addy came downstairs with a basket full of laundry and headed toward the basement.
The phone rang, and Addy’s heart sunk … it must be Lionel. Addy put the laundry basket down on the couch and ran to answer the call. She did not recognize the voice on the other end. “Hello, may I please speak to Mrs. Roberge?”
“Yes. I’m Mrs. Roberge. May I ask who is calling?”
“This is Michael Russell, your husband’s assistant at work.”
Since when does Lionel have an assistant? Addy thought to herself.
“Mrs. Roberge, has Mr. Roberge returned from Colorado yet?” Michael asked nervously.
“Why, no,” Addy quickly replied.
“He was supposed to be back by January 2 at the latest, but no one at the office has heard from him. The boss is expecting him for a meeting, and we’re all wondering if there might be something wrong.”
“Sometimes he misses his flight from Colorado because of all the snow they have there,” Addy fibbed. “I’m sure he will be back soon.”
Addy was ashamed to admit to this fellow that she had not heard from Lionel at all.
“Will you please have him call the office just as soon as he gets in?” Michael asked.
“Of course. Of course. He must be on his way right now. It’s not like him to ever miss a meeting at work,” said Addy, trying to sound convincing.
Placing the receiver down slowly, Addy turned to Helena and said, “I think something has happened to Lionel. No one at his work has heard from him--he may not call me at times--but he always checks in at the job.”
“If you’re lucky, he might have run off with some tramp,” Helena joked.
Addy look worried. “No, Helena, I really think something has happened to him. He knows the phone number at the farm, but he never called once ... not there; not at work.”
Helen became serious. “We can call the hospitals and police stations in Colorado. Do you know where he went, exactly?”
Addy suddenly realized that Lionel never told her precisely where he would be staying. She knew that he went to conventions in the Denver area so Addy said quickly, “It’s usually Denver.”
“That’s Jefferson County,” Helena said. “Let’s get busy calling.”
Helena phoned all the police stations and hospitals in Jefferson County, but still came up empty. Then she remembered that when she gave Lionel the new ski jacket for Christmas, he had mentioned he might get some skiing in on his next trip to Colorado. Maybe they should try surrounding counties like Park and Arapahoe.
When they finally reached the police station near Fair Play, they began to get some answers. At first, the captain was hesitant about giving them any information. Then Addy got on the phone and explained that her husband had gone to Colorado, but no one had heard from him since, and she was worried that he had met with some harm.
The police captain knew that they found the body of an unidentified man at the scene of a grizzly car accident, but the details of his death had been sealed. Although Lionel’s identification was at the ski chalet, Irene’s parents had gone there before the police arrived and destroyed Lionel’s belongings.
It seemed plausible to the captain that Lionel’s body was the one waiting to be identified at the morgue, but he did not want to alarm Mrs. Roberge.
He proceeded cautiously, “There was a car accident here in the mountains recently. A driver hit an elk. A man was involved, but we still don’t know who he is.”
“Is he dead?” Addy whispered in disbelief.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I am not at liberty to share any information with you at this time. You would have to come out here and prove that you know this man.”
Helena took the phone from Addy. “What’s going on?” Helena inquired impatiently.
“Who are you?” the captain snapped back in an equally sharp tone.
“I am Mrs. Roberge’s sister. We need more information.”
“I apologize, ma’am, but I am not the one to give you that information. My suggestion to you is that you fly out here just as soon as you can.”
“Should we expect a man in a coma, or a corpse, or what?” Helena persisted.
The captain would not budge. “When you get into Denver, call me at the station, same number you just called. Ask for Captain Brewster. I’ll drive out to the airport and meet you.”
Helena hung up and immediately got the wheels in motion. She called Addy’s best neighbor, Joan Avery, to see if she could watch the kids for a few days. Helena explained that Addy and she had to fly out to Colorado because Lionel had never returned from his business trip there, and it was likely he had been in a serious accident.
Addy wandered around the house, feeling as if she was out of her body. She did not know what to do first. She had to pack her clothes to go to Colorado. Should she pack a suitcase for Lionel? She still had to get the children’s clothes ready for school.
Helena could see that Addy was a mess. She reminded Addy that the children had gotten some new outfits for Christmas, and those clothes would get them through the short week until Addy returned. She did not have to bother doing laundry.
“You’re right, Helena. We have to get ourselves ready to go. Do you think I should bring clothes for Lionel?”
Helena strongly suspected Lionel would not be needing any clothes, but she said, “Sure. Bring him a change of clothes. If he was in an accident, I’m sure all he has now is a hospital johnnie.”
Addy went upstairs and packed a small bag for Lionel and one for herself.
Then Helena and Addy drove back out to the farm to get Helena’s travel clothes. What would they tell the children? Mary sensed something bad had happened. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Addy said that Lionel had been in an accident in Colorado, and Helena and she had to go there to help him. She assured Mary she would not be gone long and said, “You kids are going to stay at Joan Avery’s house. You love going there, and this time you can sleep over. It will be so much fun.”
The boys, overhearing Addy, questioned, “Why can’t we go with you?”
“You have to go back to school, and besides, it costs a lot of money for all those plane tickets. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”
Mary was frightened. Pete and Jimmy didn’t know what to think.
Helena made all the arrangements for the trip. She and Addy would be leaving the next morning before dawn, weather permitting.
Addy watched amazed at the brilliant sunrise, as she flew for the first time. Remarkably, she was not afraid but felt she no longer knew who she was. She and Lionel had a brutal, loveless marriage, but she had never lived on her own. If Lionel were dead, then what? Or, if Lionel were crippled, would she have to take care of him for the rest of her life?
The sky was tinged with pinks and oranges, and the flight was so smooth. How Addy wished she and Helena were taking off on some happy adventure instead of traveling to Colorado to find…who knows what? More heartache? Addy knew the life she and the children shared with Helena was too good to last. She thumbed mindlessly through the pages of her women’s magazines until the stewardess came to take their orders for breakfast.
By the time they arrived in Colorado, it was evening. They decided to check into their hotel and wait until morning to phone Captain Brewster. They ordered dinner through room service and then got ready for bed. Addy tossed and turned all night, dreading the morning.
Helena called the police station after breakfast. She got Captain Brewster on the line, and he agreed to meet them at the hotel. They waited for him in the lobby. Captain Brewster looked nervous as he searched out the two women. Helena noticed him first, and she walked over and introduced Addy and herself to him.
“Did you rent a vehicle?” he asked Helena who, as always, looked like the more competent one.
“We didn’t have a chance because we got in late last night.”
“That’s fine,” Captain Brewster said. “I’ll give you a ride. The roads here can be tricky.”
As they drove along in the squad car, no one wanted to be the first to speak. Captain Brewster chose his words carefully. “The unidentified man who was in the accident is at the morgue. We have no way of knowing if he is your husband, Mrs. Roberge.”
Addy knew that when a woman in a movie learned of her husband’s possible death, she would get hysterical; maybe even faint. Someone would carry the grieving widow over to a sofa and bring smelling salts.
Addy, however, was numb. To draw attention from Addy’s failure to react, Helena quickly said, “We don’t know anything for sure yet. My sister is in complete shock.”
Captain Brewster was more at ease now. “It seems that this fellow was in the mountains at night, probably coming back from a ski trip. His car hit a huge elk. These things are enormous. It’s like hitting a brick wall. Poor guy … didn’t stand a chance.”
They drove the rest of the way to the morgue in silence.
Addy was terrified. She had never been to a morgue before. What a horribly gruesome thing to have to do. Helena took Addy’s arm as they got out of the car. When they were inside, Captain Brewster said something in a hushed tone to the man at the desk. The man disappeared down the corridor and returned about five minutes later.
“We’re ready,” he announced somberly.
Addy’s instinct was to turn and run. She did not want to see a dead person. Helena had linked arms with her and was literally pushing her down the hallway. They entered a small, depressing private room. On the gurney in the middle of the room was a body covered with a white cloth. There was no point of reference for Addy. Who has experience entering the hall of death? In funeral homes, the bodies are spruced up and ready for viewing. This is no different, thought Addy, until she saw a tag tied to the big toe of the corpse.
As the attendant pulled the sheet away from the dead man’s face, Helena and Captain Brewster braced Addy from both sides. Addy gasped and immediately looked away. She tried to form the words, “That’s my husband,” but nothing came out of her mouth. Helena looked over at Captain Brewster and shook her head in acknowledgement.
Of course, Addy was in shock. As much as she often wished Lionel would die, she didn’t really mean it. Not die. Maybe just go away and never come back. No normal person could be happy about someone else’s death. That would be warped. How would she tell the children? What would she do?
Addy heard Captain Brewster and Helena discussing plans to have Lionel’s body flown back to Connecticut. Her mind flashed with recollections of her existence with Lionel. There had been some good times; there really had. She remembered how he looked at her when he first saw her in her wedding dress. He had provided for the children and her. He did try to be the best father he could. Maybe she was at fault. Maybe if she had been different, Lionel would not have struck her. Lionel knew she went to Confession begrudgingly. Did that anger him? She wasn’t sexy enough. She didn’t know how to please a man. He may have had a good reason to hit her. Oh, why, why hadn’t she tried harder? What a failure she was as a wife. At least he liked her cooking … why did she ever get married? She didn’t know how to be feminine … what a worthless excuse for a human being she was.
Watching Addy from the corner of her eye, Helena could almost read her thoughts. She was certain Addy was somehow blaming herself for Lionel’s death. She knew Addy so well by now. If things went terribly wrong, Addy would irrationally take responsibility.
Captain Brewster drove them back to the hotel, and as he opened the car door for them, he spoke earnestly to the women. “This is the part of my job I hate. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”
Helena thanked the captain while Addy walked like a zombie up to the hotel entrance. Helena needed a drink and told Addy she was going to the bar. “Why don’t you go up to the room and get some rest. Do you want me to call room service to bring up some food or a cocktail? Are you OK to be alone for a little while?”
Addy just shook her head “Yes” or “No” in response to Helena’s questions. In the elevator, a young couple was laughing hysterically, in complete oblivion to their mortality. How could anything be funny? Addy had just looked death squarely in the face. The decay swallowed her, and she wondered if the young couple could smell her decomposing.
The rest of the time in Colorado was a blur. Helena respected Addy’s silence and spoke only when necessary. She could see that it might be a tough road ahead for Addy. Although in the end, Addy was better off without Lionel, the wounds were still too fresh. If Addy could conquer her guilt, she would move on to a happier life. Helena was convinced of that.