The Caretaker's Wife Read online

  My heart beat hard in my chest and I felt myself growing excited. If only Sonny weren’t seated beside me, I would have taken her in my arms and laid the most passionate kiss on her that I possibly could. I felt a slap on my arm.

  “Earth to Kingsley,” Sonny said. “You act like you ain’t never seen a grown woman before, man.”

  If only he knew how long it had been since I’d seen a knockout like Cora. She approached us.

  “Glad you could make it, Kingsley,” she said, smiling shyly. “What are we drinking?”

  Not only was she dressed beautifully, but she smelled like lavender. If I closed my eyes, I was standing in a field of it, a cool breeze blowing on my face and Cora’s hand in mine. We’d walk off into the sunset together. Sonny went to get up.

  “Don’t, Son,” she said, heading around to the bar back. “I can help myself. You drink up.”

  She poured herself a glass of white wine and stood behind the bar in between us. I thought she might propose a toast, but she didn’t. Instead, we drank for maybe a half hour, and we allowed the booze to sooth our nerves. I don’t remember much of what we spoke about because all I could do was stare at Cora and imagine what it would be like to pull her dress off and fuck her on one of the tavern tables. At that point, I wouldn’t have cared if Sonny joined in. That’s how badly I wanted her.

  A buzzer went off inside the kitchen and Sonny slipped off the stool.

  “That would be the chicken,” he said. “Dinner is about to be served.”

  He made his way through the kitchen door, leaving me alone with Cora. Correction, alone and happy.

  For the longest time, I just stared into her deep, wet, brown eyes. In turn, she peered into mine from a couple feet away behind the bar. When she slowly came around the bar and slipped up onto Sonny’s barstool, I couldn’t help but notice the way her short dress rode all the way up on her thighs. So high, in fact, that her silky black panties were exposed. She couldn’t help but notice me staring down at her angel space, and she quickly pulled down on the hem of her dress.

  Heart be still.

  “Guess I’m revealing more than a little leg,” she said, not without a coy grin. She stole a sip of a newly poured glass of wine. “Oh, I needed that.”

  “Long day?” I said.

  “Any day with Sonny is a long day,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “You’re in for a long, long life together,” I said.

  “Funny, Kingsley. Are your books that funny?”

  “If you think murder is a laughing matter.”

  Her face went serious. “Murder is never a laughing matter,” she said. “But I guess, in some cases, it can be justified.”

  Her words made my stomach go tight. What the hell did she mean by murder being justified sometimes? What the hell was Cora getting at? Maybe it was just her way of being provocative. As if her outfit and the body that filled it weren’t already provocative enough. I was just about to ask her what she meant by the comment when the kitchen door opened and Sonny emerged with a tray in hand.

  “Soup’s on, people,” he said.

  Sliding off my stool, I took hold of Cora’s hand and helped her down from hers. Her touch nearly took my breath away.

  We seated ourselves at one of the round tables and devoured most of the roasted chicken which was served with roasted potatoes, ears of corn, and a fresh garden salad. Sonny might have been as unlikeable as they came, but I had to hand it to him, he was one hell of a cook. Of course, we washed everything down with more drinks. Lots of them. So many that Sonny was getting visibly drunk. His voice proceeded to get louder and louder, and he went on a jag about what a dump the town of Loon Lake was. How the hicks who lived in it had no vision. No ability to see beyond themselves and their pathetic, borderline poverty-stricken lives. Those hillbillies wouldn’t know a dollar bill if it slapped them on the ass. Stuff like that.

  Mostly, Cora just kept her head down, sipped her wine, and let him rant away like she was entirely used to his bullshit. I, more or less, did the same—just drank and listened.

  I watched his round face get red and heated, observed the way he’d run his hand over his oil-slicked, receding hair when he wanted to make a point and how he spit his words the drunker he became. It was like a shooting gallery of Sonny’s saliva spraying the table. It was disgusting and unnerving.

  When he made a fist and slammed it down on the table, it was like a gunshot to the head.

  “Goddammit!” he barked. “If only I could buy up this town and make it into a major tourist attraction. You know how many teenagers would fill the streets? Teenagers who want their pot, their crack, their smack, and their Molly? There’s fucking money to make up here, Kingsley.”

  Drugs. Why the hell was he talking about drugs? Cora looked at me and cleared the frog from her throat.

  “Sonny, darling,” she said, “why don’t you pull out your sax and play a song or two for us.” Her eyes on me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Kingsley?” She winked when she said it.

  I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather not listen to than Sonny’s saxophone. But then, if it meant I didn’t have to listen to his banter, all the better.

  “Why sure,” I said. “I’d like that. Let’s hear it, Sonny.”

  “What the hell,” he said, smiling, pushing out his chair. When he got up, he was a bit unsteady, and he had to grab the chair back to balance himself. He tossed his now food-stained cloth napkin behind the bar, then made his way into the vestibule and the back office.

  In the few seconds he was gone, I did something I shouldn’t have. I reached out, took hold of Cora’s hand, and squeezed it. She looked at me with wide eyes. She squeezed my hand in return, but then stole her hand back. I noticed then how the hem on her dress had shifted high up onto her thighs. Again, I could make out her black satin covered pussy. I swear she knew I was gazing at it, wanting it. Because she didn’t adjust her dress. Not right away. If anything, I noticed how she opened her legs even more. When she ran her tongue over her thick lips, I thought I might faint.

  Then, Sonny came barging back in, and she quickly crossed one leg over the other and pulled her dress back down as far as the hem could go.

  “Whaddaya you guys want to hear?” Sonny asked, setting the saxophone case on the bar and opening it.

  “How about a little Sinatra, dear,” Cora suggested. “I just love it when you play Night and Day.”

  “Okay, baby,” he said. “But first another drink.”

  He went around the bar, uncapped a bottle of Jack Daniels, and stole a deep swig right out of the bottle. Capping the bottle back up, he swayed his way back around the bar and took hold of his sax. Settling himself on one of the barstools, he placed the reed in his mouth, and he began to play.

  It was Night and Day, just like Cora requested. I had to admit, Sonny wasn’t all that bad a performer. Even for being drunk as a skunk, he was hitting all the notes with ease. But then, for some reason, he stopped.

  “Come on, dance,” he insisted. He waved his hand at us. “Come on now, don’t just sit there. Dance.”

  Cora and I looked at each other. There was skepticism in her eyes, if not fear. I couldn’t imagine that Sonny wanted me near his wife, so why, then, did he want me dancing with her? Dancing implied touching. Maybe he was trying to set me up. Trying to see if I might cop a feel. That would give him an excuse to toss me out on my ass.

  “Dance, I tell you,” he said. “Dance, or I’m not playing anymore.”

  “Oh, Sonny,” Cora said. “We had too much dinner. I’m so full, I can’t move.”

  “All the more reason to dance,” he said. His voice was getting louder, more insistent. Angrier.

  “If I fucking ask you to dance, Cora,” he continued, “I mean I expect you to fucking dance.”

  Cora and I just went on gazing at one another from across the table. But that’s when Sonny slipped off the stool, set his sax back down in its c
ase. He trudged into the kitchen and came immediately back out with something in his hand.

  It was a semi-automatic.

  “Hey, Sonny,” I said, feeling my heart beating against my sternum. “Take it easy, man. We’ll dance if that’s what you want. Isn’t that right, Cora?”

  For a time, our eyes locked. I saw not love or lust in her eyes. I saw real fear. Sonny was a loose cannon, that much was for sure. She slowly got up, pushed her chair aside.

  “Come on, Kingsley,” she said. “Let’s dance.”

  I got up and went to her. I took hold of her hand and wrapped my arm around her trim waist.

  “That’s better,” Sonny said as he placed his gun down on the bar and picked up his sax. “Get real close now. I like it when a handsome man presses up close against my woman.”

  So that was his game. He didn’t like me touching or even breathing near Cora, but he must have gotten off on watching her with other men. Maybe not fucking other men, but simply dancing with them. It was his personal fetish—a man dancing with his wife at gunpoint. He wrapped his swollen lips around the sax reed and began to blow. The tavern once more filled with the sounds of Night and Day.

  Maybe Sonny had a gun set on the bar only inches from his shooting hand, but the feel of Cora pressed against me was wonderful, like being in heaven. I was as hard as a rock, and I made sure she knew it by pressing myself against her. I stared into her eyes, and I sensed she felt every inch of me. She didn’t try to avoid it either. If only I could just kiss her. But if I broke that barrier, it was an almost certainty that Sonny would drop the sax, pick up his gun, and aim the barrel at my head. He just wanted to watch his wife dance with another man and that’s as far as it went. That was my guess anyway.

  When the song ended, he placed the saxophone back in its case, and once again picked up his pistol, shoving the barrel into his pant waist.

  “Show’s over,” he said. “Break it up, you two.”

  He went back around the bar and helped himself to a generous shot of whiskey. He was so plastered now, he could hardly stand. Cora and I separated. But I could have held her like that forever. Didn’t matter that Sonny had a gun.

  “Sonny,” she said, “I think it’s time we called it a night, don’t you?”

  He issued her a grin that was filled with evil. It wasn’t even a grin so much as a sneer. Who knows what goes on behind the closed bedroom doors of married couples, but if I had to guess, the experience wasn’t a pleasant one for Cora.

  “Do not tell me what to do, woman,” Sonny said.

  She glanced at me. It was as though she wanted me to do something.

  “I’d better be going,” I said. “It’s been a long day, and I’d better get some rest if I’m going to be working the trails with you day after tomorrow, Sonny.”

  He laughed, high pitched and squeaky. It hurt my ears. “We’re gonna put all those muscles to work,” he said. He was slurring his words now.

  “Thanks for your hospitality, folks,” I said, heading for the door.

  When I put my hand on the doorknob, Cora called out for me.

  “Oh, Kingsley,” she said. “I nearly forgot. You don’t have any linens for the bed or towels for the bath. You go ahead, and I’ll catch up.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. After everything that just happened, Cora was going to pay me a nighttime visit to my cabin.

  8

  I made my way across the lawn and then took the trail through the trees back to the cabin. It was pitch dark under the tree canopy, and I had to take it slow or else walk face-first into a tree trunk. But when I made it through to the clearing, the full moon illuminated the little beach and the small piece of lawn leading up to the cabin. I started up the cabin steps, and something caught my eye. A trembling beam of white flashlight cutting through the darkness of the trees.

  Cora.

  I felt my heart lift.

  “Just in time,” I said.

  “For what?” she said.

  “A nightcap.”

  She was cradling a pile of linens and towels in her free arm while she held the flashlight in the other.

  “God knows I need one,” she said.

  “You and me both,” I said.

  We headed inside the cabin, and she immediately started on making up the lower bunk.

  “Stop, Cora,” I said. “You don’t have to be my mother.”

  I laughed and pulled two cold beers out of the little fridge. I popped the tabs.

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “Besides, you’ll never get to it if I just leave the sheets there.”

  She was probably right. She made up the little bed and then placed the towels in the bathroom. I drank beer and watched her the entire time, the way her little white dress scooted up her milky thighs when she was tucking in the sheets, the way her breasts jiggled when she dropped the pillow into the pillowcase. The cabin was dimly lit but her big brown eyes shined.

  When she was finished with her chores, she met me at the kitchen counter and took hold of her beer.

  “Whiskey would be better,” she said.

  “Beggars,” I said. “We can’t be choosers.”

  “Let’s take them outside. It’s a beautiful night.”

  Sonny and his gun came to mind.

  “What about your husband?” I said. “He’s a crazy man tonight, if you’ll beg my pardon.”

  “He’s so drunk,” she said, “he’s already passed out on the bed.” She exhaled. “Sorry you had to go through that, Kingsley.”

  “You sound used to it by now,” I said.

  “You have no idea,” she said.

  Outside, we sat on the porch step and stared out at the lake. The moonlight was shining over it, and every now and then a trout or a bass would jump and snatch a fly in mid-air. I was looking forward to fishing the lake tomorrow. I was looking more forward to spending time alone in a canoe with Cora.

  We were silent for a time until she said, “When I was a girl, my family used to take me here. It was my favorite place on earth.”

  “You used to come to Loon Lake Inn as a little kid?” I said.

  She nodded. “How do you think I discovered it?” she said. “I lived in New York City where it was hot and grimy in the summers. That’s why this place became such a beloved escape, for me and my whole family. We had a magical time in these cabins.”

  I thought about my own childhood. My stepfamily. I recalled the summers as hot and hard. We didn’t vacation all that much. But I did plenty of work. Hard labor. Mowing lawns, digging ditches, gutting out old buildings. I got my first job when I was fourteen.

  “I can see why you’d want to buy the place,” I said.

  “It had always been a dream of mine to own it,” she said. “For as long as I can remember. I pictured myself retiring here with my children and grandchildren.”

  “You don’t have any kids,” I said. It was a question.

  “Sonny can’t,” she said. “But I think it’s more like he won’t. Besides, I’m not sure I…”

  She let the thought slide. But if I had to fill in the blanks, it would have been, “I’m not sure I would want to have a child with Sonny.” I pictured him holding the gun on us. He was entirely unhinged, to say the least.

  “What did you do before you became the caretakers of an inn?” I asked.

  She drank some beer, gazed contemplatively out at the moonlit lake. But instead of answering my question, she stood and silently made her way back into the cabin. I could only assume she was setting her still full beer on the counter. When she came back out, she was gripping her flashlight.

  I stood.

  “Something I said, Cora?”

  “It’s late,” she said.

  In the light of the moon, I could see tears in her eyes. I reached out for her.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t. Not now.”

  My heart sunk.

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll take
the canoe out.”

  She wiped both eyes with the backs of her hands. She worked up a smile.

  “Yes,” she said, turning on her flashlight. “Yes, we will. Goodnight, Kingsley. Sweet dreams.”

  “Good night, Cora,” I said.

  I watched her walk off into the trees.

  I finished my beer and drank another. It was taking a little getting used to preparing myself for my first night not sleeping behind bars in nearly two years. When the beer was almost drained, I heard something that sounded like breaking glass. It wasn’t a loud sound. It was faint, the trees muting most of the noise. I wasn’t sure I would have even noticed it, had I not learned to notice the little things that go bump and crash in the night while I was in prison. Setting the beer on the table beside the typewriter, I went back outside.

  Now I could hear voices. A scream that most definitely came from a woman, and following that, a shout that most definitely came from a man. Sonny. Sonny and Cora. I felt my way along the narrow trail that separated my cabin from the main cabins. When I came to the clearing, I could really hear them going at it.

  Their apartment was located behind the office inside the Loon Lake tavern. I walked down toward the beach so that I could maybe get a look inside their windows. I had to do this without them seeing me.

  Their bedroom was awash in lamplight. I could see Cora standing still, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes wide and angry. Sonny was making fists with his hands, raising them in a threatening gesture. They were both screaming at one another. She yelled at him for pulling his gun, and he barked at her for flirting with, and I quote, “the new guy.” Was he about to hit her? I couldn’t be sure. But he was drunk enough to be capable of anything. A part of me wanted to barge in there and let him have it. But it wasn’t my place.