Aftermath - What Really Happened

"Comin' up, sugar." Smiling all the way.

She turned and went to get my meal. I wondered how this was going to work out.

Late lunch arrived and it was great. There was also a helping of sweet coleslaw, and it was a bonus. I was polishing off my second glass of sweet tea, was almost done with the sandwich and salad, and took my time with the coleslaw when the screen doors opened, and in walked my future life.

The woman was oriental, maybe 42-45 years old, 5' 2" tall, petite, and very athletic looking. The man looked to be about 62 to 67. But he was not old old. 6' 3" and about 220 lbs., tapered, chiseled, rugged looking. He could be a Marine Corps recruiting poster, come to life. And focused.

He was wearing aviator shades, a t-shirt that said "Hideaway Marina", and jeans, and made a beeline to the counter. He ushered the woman to a seat on my left, went around and sat on my right, removed his shades, pushed his ball cap back on his head, and stared at me with his deep, brown eyes.

"Please, have a seat," I said, somewhat sarcastically, looking back and forth between the two people. Now there were six other seats seats at the counter, all unoccupied. And there were twelve medium-sized tables, two of which were occupied, and being served by the lone waitress. Sally was in control of the counter. So it would appear that these two were my 'interviewers'.

I held the man's stare, but it didn't faze him in the least. Then the lady started to speak.

"Well, hello, there. I'm Mai Lowell. This is my husband, Joshua Lowell. Say hello, Joshua."

He grunted and never moved his eyes. He was studying me, analyzing me, dissecting me, if you will. His wife continued to speak, so I turned my attention to her. She had extended her hand to me, so I returned the gesture. We shook, and she resumed.

"So, what's your name? Where are you from? And why are you here?"

Taking a deep breath, I slowly reached for my wallet, produced my driver's license, and identified myself. I gave them a brief synopsis of my story, leaving out the significant, 'gory' details. Mrs. Lowell pressed me.

"So you are married?"

Hesitantly: "Yes ma'am."

"And do you have children?"

I hesitated again. "Yes, ma'am."

"So where are they?"

I bristled. "Don't know; don't care.

"Look, I haven't done anything wrong, or illegal. Maybe morally reprehensible, but I DON'T CARE!! You've got my driver's license, and I'm thinking you have friends in law enforcement who can check me out. But if that's the case, I'm leaving. I don't need this shit. I am a man of my word. Maybe not of honor, anymore, but I've had enough. Too much, actually."

Mai started again.

"Now look, Jim. I just want to......."

The voice from behind me sounded like God.

"That's enough, Mai."

I turned and looked at her husband. The face had not changed, but the eyes. The eyes. He was not looking through me anymore. He was looking AT me.

She stopped talking, staring at me while I could see her mind working. Then Joshua started, and I spun to pay attention to him.

"The rent is $150 a month, cash, payable each month for the next month. It's clean, the last one available on our property at the marina. The rent went up because spring is coming, and soon it will be in demand. I am also a man of my word. AND a man of honor. If I say it's$150 a month, it is. From now till we part ways. If you're interested follow us to the house, check it out and we'll shake on it."

My turn, now. My eyebrows shot up.

"Shake on it??" I spit out.

"Like I said, a Man of my word," he said.

I thought for a moment, then nodded my head slightly.

"O.K., let's go."

I motioned for the check and 'Sally' laid a piece of paper on the counter.

I was a little stunned.

"$5?"

"And 12 cents. You know, tax," she smiled.

"That's ALL?", I asked.

Her smile was now a flat grin.

"Yeah, that's all."

I stared back at her, pulled my wallet back out, and threw down a ten and a single. $11.00.

She grinned a mile wide.

"Big tipper. Thank you." She nodded to the Lowell's and picked up the money.

We left, with Joshua nodding a sedate greeting to two sheriff's deputies who had come in for coffee and- (Cops, right?) and walked to my truck. Joshua nodded to a jet-black 4-door Rubicon Sahara model, complete with oversized tires and a winch.

"Follow us," he said, as he walked around to the passenger side door, opened it, and assisted Mai up onto the kick step and into the truck. He shut the door, but not before saying something to his wife, his mouth breaking into a small smile, and leaning in for a kiss.

'First time I'd seen him smile,' I thought.

His expression changed back to doom and gloom as he came around to the driver's side, all the while staring at me. He climbed in, started up, and left.

Scrambling, I started the truck up, backed out, and followed. It wasn't hard, as the Jeep had a large Marine Corps seal decal on the back window, below an American flag on the left side and a Vietnamese flag, circa 1970 on the right. Old glory behind the driver, the other behind the passenger. Nothing else.

He drove for about twelve minutes, following the Jeep down towards the river, and turned right into a small secluded driveway that led to an enclave of 10 bungalows, up on stilts. Five on each side of the two-lane paved road, that ended at the parking lot of the marina.

The Hideaway Marina. Approximately three dozen slips, a long concrete dock sporting four gas pumps, with a floating extension. A long one-story building with a veranda overlooking the river. And down to the right were sheds and a slipway, with access to the water.

They drove to the last unit on the right, a blue cottage with white shutters, up on stilts. It was behind the last of the work sheds, and a little closer to the river. They stopped, and I pulled up into the marked parking spot. I got out and walked over to the older couple who stood watching me approach. I, however, was concentrating on the cottage.

Eight feet off the ground, there was a stairway up to a small porch. Also, a ramp went along the back, rising about four feet, and doglegging back to rise to the porch. The Lowells went to the stairs and climbed to the porch, but I went to the ramp. Well constructed, set in concrete, with anti-slip treads on the deck. I climbed up and met them at the top. They opened the door and motioned me in.

The interior was a small entryway opening to a kitchen area on one side and a small bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower across the hall. It ended into a bedroom on the left, facing the river and the buildings, and a living area on the right, facing the far-off rolling hills and the low forest. The outside windows were all jalousie type, fronting onto a porch that ran around the outside. The bedroom and living room each had a ceiling fan, and there was a small, free-standing wood-burning fireplace in the living room. No other heating or cooling units were in place. The ceiling was low, and everything seemed to be well insulated. Cozy, nice, like a cute little romantic getaway location. Maybe 1200 sq. feet total.

'Don't go there, bud. Not anymore.' Jim shuddered and turned to the Lowells.

"I'll take it."

"Not so fast. How are you going to afford it? You have a job?"

"Not yet, sir. You offering?"

Joshua studied some more. Then he looked at Mai. Then back to Jim.

"Maybe. What can you do?"

"I'm a licensed aircraft mechanic. Also, I'm a pretty decent carpenter, and I can drive a forklift."

Joshua raised his estimate of the young man about one and a half notches.

"O.K., how about minimum wage, cash, under the table? Working for Hideaway Marina. We have a couple of uniform T-shirts, wear them with jeans. Also, there are a few local churches and charities that occasionally could use some help. You liaise with them, on an individual basis, in cash. Don't take advantage of them; we'll hear about it if you do, and you'll be out on your ear. Copy?"

Jim grinned.

"Loud and clear, boss."

Joshua nodded and said, "Tomorrow morning, bright and early. 0600. In the restaurant, the long building. Get there about a half hour early and you can buy some breakfast.

"We'll see what you can do." He extended his hand.

"Deal?"

"Deal," said Jim and took the man's hand.

Thus began their odyssey. Over time, he heard their story, and they eventually got his. Joshua had been Recon Marines in Vietnam, where he had rescued Mai and her family. They eventually were moved to the Philippines, then through Catholic Charities to the United States. Throughout it all, Corporal Joshua Lowell, who was smitten by the young lady, kept tabs on her. He rotated stateside and tracked her down in Oceanside, California. There, he dated and proposed to her. He converted to Catholicism, much to her family's approval but not so much his, then after marriage and a short honeymoon, the new Staff Sergeant and his wife flew to Parris Island, much against her family's wishes, where he assumed his position as D/I. He had two overseas deployments, one in Desert Storm, and the other he can't talk about. He rose to the rank of Gunnery Sergeant and retired with all kinds of decorations and citations. Along the way, they had four children-three boys and one girl. All four joined the military at some point, three to the Marines, and one (the black sheep) to the Air Force Academy. Number three son. The daughter was also a Marine, graduating from Annapolis, and went into the JAG Corps.

It turns out Mom and Dad are much better looking than they appeared. Joshua is 66, and Mai is actually 63. But a very good-looking 63. And they are as happy as is possible for two people as disparate as can be.

The same cannot be said for Jim.

It's been a little more than two years. Things have changed, some for the better, some not so much. I have come to accept some things. Doesn't mean I like them, but I accept them. I am still morose and keep thinking about my kids. This brings up feelings of despair, and I have to work to control them. Then thoughts of Linda and what she did. This elicits hatred. Sometimes I work to control those feelings. Other times, I use them to focus my energies on a problem at work. This works well, too.

I am included more and more in the lives of the Lowell family. Their oldest son, career Marine Master Sergeant Joshua Lowell II, single, stationed down at Norfolk Naval Base, would drive up and visit occasionally. #2 son, Micheal, was a retired Marine, married, with two kids, lived in Mechanicsville and worked as a Deputy Sheriff in Golden Beach. #3 son was a retired Air Force pilot who flew helicopters for the State Forestry Department. Also single. Then there was Mai Angelina (Marine, of course) who had gone to the Naval Academy, then into the Marine Corps JAG Office. 7 years later, she was discharged, a Lieutenant, had her own law office, and was starting to get serious with a young pediatric doctor from Baltimore.

I got on with things. I toughened, physically and mentally. The weather was much nicer than Northern Illinois and I learned to like it. I became more proficient with my carpentry skills, and being mechanically inclined (and a licensed air-frame and power-plant mechanic) I was soon well-liked around town, and with my new boss. Eventually, they put me on the books and I got raises and forgot about everything (Well, mostly). I also started a small business, hiring two young guys, one an ex-con, and the other a recently discharged vet. We were doing some remodels and home improvement/additions, and starting to make a name for ourselves, locally.

The younger three siblings spent quite a bit of time around the Lowell homestead, but all four had met me, and I gradually became accepted.

It's been two and a half years since I showed up, and I had settled in quite nicely. I impressed Joshua with my abilities and my work ethic. I was now making almost $20 an hour (now on the payroll) and was a valued employee. And a semi-official member of the family.

But it was the baring of my soul in my story to my benefactors that seemed to help my case.

Mai was thunderstruck by what she learned.

"How could a woman do such a thing? What is wrong with her? And she has children!!

"OHH, I'm sorry Jim, I forgot. But that means you have children, too."

"Do I? I have two human beings I care about, whom I have raised and cared about and have loved for their entire lives. But Children? I'm not sure they're my biological issues. That would mean I have to believe the lying bitch. So you tell me.....

"Sorry, Mai. I'm not over it, yet."

All the time, Joshua was studying me. He never said much, but he sure did observe a lot. Till now.

"Young man, you're broken. I pass no judgment on your course of action, because, well, quite frankly, you're fucked any way you go."

"JOSHUA!!"

"Yes, dear. I apologize.

"The point is, you took a course of action and ran with it. There did not seem to be another avenue open to you. I don't begrudge you your choice. But you are broken. I know, I said that already. But you're not doing anything to fix yourself."

WHOA!!!

I had been accepted into their family in the three years that I had lived here. They all had opinions about my course of action, but they understood why I had done what I did.

But they were right. I WAS broken. I had no social life other than the interaction with the Lowells and the few people from the churches that I allowed to get close to me. I was a recluse. But I had Linda to thank for that.

Linda. Linda with a capital "C", for cunt. The self-serving, egotistical, narcissistic, bitch who threw her husband away 'cavalierly' to have a passion-filled night with an egotistical smuck. Why? BECAUSE SHE COULD! SHE WAS OWED IT!! The woman who thought nothing of me while putting her own self-gratification in front of her family, children, and her loving husband. Why? Because she could, because she deserved it, because she wanted it, because it was due to her!!

WHY?? Who the fuck knows. I sure as hell don't. I started to think, deeply, and reflect on all sorts of things. I wrestled with my decision to leave, looking at it from every conceivable angle and point of view. I was no closer to resolving my problem them I was on THAT NIGHT. But I was distancing myself from the nightmare, starting to bury the hate and disgust that I had felt THAT NIGHT.

I like to think that I am healing.

So here I was, three years later, in a prison of my own making, held here by the fucking slut who kept me here by her actions, and my lack of actions. I had almost forgotten about being worried about someone finding me. Almost would have welcomed it, I think.

But all that was about to change.

Because I was a nice guy.

I was in town on a Sunday morning, just after church, coming out of the small grocery store. It was a little more than two years in. I didn't carry the Python any longer because I never bothered to get a carry permit. But the weapon was, along with the two long guns, registered in Maryland. I did purchase a standard police 'asp', a collapsible whip-like club. I carried it when I was out and about, for security. And protection.

Anyway, I was walking to the truck and I stumbled upon two individuals who appeared to be trying to take the keys, purse, and any other valuables from a young lady trying to get into her late model Toyota Supra. She was screaming and resisting, but because of the area, and time of day, not getting any attention.

Enter Jim, sticking his nose in.

I put the two bags of food on the hood of my truck, sprinted across the parking lot to the scene of the attack, pulled the asp out, and flicked it open. As I reached them, I yelled, getting their attention. They spun around and that's when I saw the gun.

But I was committed. I brought the flail down on the prick's wrist as he raised the weapon, and was rewarded with a sickening snap as his wrist bones broke. I powered through him into the other punk and drove him onto the hood of the Supra, with his wounded buddy landing on top of him. The subsequent whoosh of expelled air left the two of them out of breath. But the screaming moans of the first one, coupled with the groans from the second one's fractured ribs, as they slipped to the ground, were more than enough satisfaction for me.

Breathing heavily as the adrenaline seeped away, I turned to come face to face with the diminutive female.

She was short, about 5' 3", but slim. Cute, but not drop-dead gorgeous like Linda was. Perky little boobs, but nice, slim legs, and a killer ass. Long brown hair, tied up in a ponytail. Librarian-styled black framed eyeglasses. But the kicker was she was screaming at the back window of the car, trying to get the door open. I speed-dialed my cell phone and was answered by-

"Hey, Jim, what's up?" Deputy Sheriff Michael Lowell, # 2 son of the Lowells.

"Mike, I got a situation at the grocery store. Possible carjacking, mugging, attempted robbery, and" that's when I realized there was a child in the back seat of the car. "Kidnapping!"

"Don't leave, we'll be right there!" He ended the call and I turned to make sure the creeps were down for the count. I picked up the gun, told them to roll onto their guts and lay still (Just like on T.V.), and backed up to the young lady.

She was frantically trying to open the back door, so as gently as I could, moved her away and opened the door.

That was simple. She was a little panic-stricken, I think.

She dove in and scooped out a petite female, maybe 4 or 5 years old.

"Are you guys o.k.?", I asked.

She was crying, but gradually coming under control. She slowly dried her eyes, sniffled, and looked at me. She smiled and said "Thank You!! Thank you so much!! They wanted to take my car and my child."

"Yeah, not gonna happen", I said with a grin.

She smiled more, sniffled again, and said, "Are you a cop?"

For some reason or other, I found my long-lost sense of humor. I grinned; actually, I laughed, a little. I hadn't done that in a looong time.

"No," I said, "But I play one on television," with my expression breaking into a raucous grin.

She, on the other hand, looked at me like maybe she should have taken her chances with the creeps. Just about then, lights and sirens, and up rolled Mike and two additional black and whites.

He bailed out with his partner and rushed across, guns drawn. I held up my hands, holding the pistol by the barrel. Mike took the weapon and placed it in an evidence bag.

"What happened, Jim?"

I gave him the short version, then embarrassingly apologized to the young woman and Mike for my lame attempt at humor. That's when my world flipped- again.

I had introduced myself.

"I'm sorry for my flippant remark. I was trying to be cute. My name is Jim Carlyle. I hope I didn't offend or scare you. Are you and the baby o.k.??"

She looked at me and was trying to decide if I was honest or not. There were four cops here, and an ambulance had just rolled up. The two suspects were in cuffs and were being attended to and an EMT was fusing over her and the little girl. Finally, the EMT said they were just shaken up, but to monitor their conditions. The lady looked back and forth between me and Mike. Finally, she looked at Mike and

said, "You know this guy, Mike?"

He grinned.

"Yeah. I know him. He works for my dad and lives in the compound, by the Marina. He's a good guy."

She turned to me and said, "Thank you, again. My name is Lindell, Emma Lindell."

What the fuck!! I stared at the woman but all I could see was my sweet daughter's face. Could anything more weird happen?

Heh, Heh. Hold that thought.

Mike couldn't help but notice my shock but didn't catch the name simile yet. He turned back to Emma and said (Wait for it), "Uhh, is Linda alright?".