Running:
I have never run fast. Not even back in high school, although once I kept up with the school's star female runner like I was tethered to her. It about killed me, and I'm sure it drove her nuts. She couldn't shake off scrawny me? Unreal! Back then I wouldn't dream of puking, but now it would be a natural result for a feat like that. It was nice knowing the rest of the crowd ate our dust by a considerable distance and I was someone to contend with. Wish I could not only run at that pace now--but simply run... Ahhh... dreams!
Writing:
Good news: I write faster than I run.
Bad news: I'm a slow editor.
Good news: I wrote the novel I'm now sharing a few years back and have edited it at least ten times, and probably 20 or 30. There are 65 chapters and here's
More good news: I'm planning on publishing more than 1 chapter at a time some days, each in their own blog post. (I hope that's good news for you!)
Even more Good news: You can skip the photos and comments below and head on down to chapter 3 if you'd like...
And finally, I reassembled my novel like we joined all the pieces of the play set together. So fun now for my cute little Grands! (And safe, I might add.) Enjoy today's installment of Secrets at Midnight by Leona Palmer Haag.
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 3
Matt Jensen leaned
back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. He focused on the words
staring back from the glowing computer monitor. Nothing made sense—jumbled
chaos resembling an exorbitant price for the office unless he figured something
out fast. After two days with hardly a break, the feat appeared impossible.
Pulling away from
work he headed to the kitchen and grabbed a polished apple. He leaned against
the counter and devoured it before his eyes settled on the over-sized clock
hanging above the sideboard. After eleven.
Where was Monica? He pulled out his cell phone and punched the number reserved
for his wife. Her upbeat voice message sang, “Sorry I missed you. Leave your….”
When the phone beeped he said, “Where are you? Call me.” He’d give her ten
minutes before searching her favorite haunts.
Nearly an hour
elapsed before Matt checked the time at the bottom of the computer screen. He
rocked back in his chair. It wasn’t like Monica to leave him clueless about her
whereabouts. With fingers ticking across the keyboard, he brought up his calendar.
Now he remembered—it was Monday and she taught kick boxing at the fitness
center until ten. For the right tip she occasionally stayed late for a personal
training session. Some testosterone-charged baboon probably forked over good
cash tonight. He’d wait up. It was worth watching her dump the money into a
vase on the dresser while saying, “France. Next summer. You’re coming with me,
baby.”
A click of the mouse
brought up a photo of Monica leaning against her sleek little car—long blond
hair pulled forward, a wisp hiding one eye. He’d caught her with his camera
phone an instant before she turned away claiming he acted like an infatuated
teenager. He had shoved the phone back to his side and raced to catch the door
for her as they headed into the courthouse to attend their wedding.
Incredibly beautiful
described his prize. She loved standing out, showing off and being noticed, but
that wasn’t why he’d married her. Her face and curves were only a pleasant
bonus. Her passion for life captivated him. Clicking to another photo, Matt
smiled. The past nine months had been great—filled with incredible experiences, love
and passion—something he’d missed for many years. Life had become real again.
He pulled away from
the computer and checked the house from one end to the other, but Monica hadn’t
slipped in unnoticed while he ogled her, and her black Lexus was still missing.
He tried her cell phone again. No answer. Was it time to call out the posse, or
time to call Jenn? But what would he say to the little brunette he’d had a
crush on since he was barely a teenager—hey, I lost my wife? Jenn would bounce
something witty back like—she’s blond. It was only a matter of time before she
did it herself.
Despite himself, Matt
chuckled. The top two women in his life had met after his honeymoon. They’d
been engaged in warfare ever since—not outright, but calculated and subversive.
Matt paced the
hallway to the bedroom. The waiting bed called, but he only flipped his phone
open and said, “Monica.” A photo of his wife filled the screen until her voice
mail connected. “Call me,” he said. He shut the phone and tossed it onto the
pillow.
Monica could be
laughing and talking in the fitness center parking lot with friends or
admirers, but that wouldn’t stop her from answering him, and neither would a flat
tire or engine trouble. There was only one thing she kept private—needing a
strong drink. And the only person capable of driving her to the edge was Jenn.
What had Jenn done
now?
Sitting on the foot
of the bed, Matt stared at the ceiling. He lay back and his arm reached out as
his hand fumbled until he found his phone. His finger rested on Jenn’s number.
If he pushed it, he’d briefly see her pretty hazel eyes and crescent lips. As always,
her voice would ring innocently and sweetly when she answered.
Tossing the phone
back to the pillow, Matt stood. Where should he hunt for Monica first? He had a
list of clubs, but Jenn had only sent her drinking—well—never, although Monica
had threatened plenty of times and almost followed through twice. The most
memorable came after Monica blew through the door and plunked a photo album in
his lap. “Look at this little number,” she’d said, placing her hands on her
hips and glaring.
Matt opened to the
center and found Monica wearing a bikini and tan. He whistled.
Monica frowned and
held up one finger in warning. “Not one word Matt, so help me. I’m past
kindergarten. I outgrew glue. I don’t crop and cut. That little
practically-perfect girl and her paper punches had better be nice to me or I’ll
dish out something worse than scuba diving with sharks after shaving her legs.”
He’d flipped through
a few pages sporting his wife in full glitz. “Our honeymoon. It looks like Jenn
just wants to—” He looked up to find Monica pointing a long finger at him. In a
swift stroke he was clearly warned to zip it.
He’d laughed, but
made no further comment as he’d thumbed through the photos. Jenn had won, but
apparently he had too.
Now his steps led
down the hallway and back into the kitchen, heading toward the garage and his
car, but he stopped. Monica wouldn’t be nursing a scotch, but she might be
pushing the speedometer on the outskirts of town if Jenn riled her up enough.
How was he going to catch her with his Toyota? And was she heading out of
Dallas on I-35 or I-45?
In his mind, Matt ran
through the ongoing battle between the women. He thought Monica was ahead at
the moment, but had Jenn pulled a fast one and taken the lead?
The clock read a
quarter to one. Matt opened the cookie jar and retrieved an unopened package
wedged inside—Monica’s way of filling it. As he ate cookies he remembered
Monica describing Jenn gearing up to mountain climb, but only because Monica
had tricked her into it. Best of all were details of the descent—Jenn
screaming.
“I swear she’ll try
to kill me now,” Monica had said between bursts of laughter after returning
home. “I scared her to death—and loved every minute.”
“She’ll eventually
make you pay.”
“Not this time. I’ll
get her again before she thinks of something. And me, being bullet proof….”
A few days later the
leather-bound honeymoon landed in his lap. Monica had paid. The women unleashed
all kinds of unpleasant torment on each other. Their relationship was
ridiculous, but at least they had one.
Matt checked the
clock. One. Straight up plus ten seconds. He ought to rescue Monica from Jenn’s
clutches, but it wasn’t right to toss Jenn a juicy bone if Monica wasn’t with
her. He set his cell phone aside.
Monica and Jenn both
would have bailed on their relationship if possible. They were oil and water—an
impossible mix. “More like gasoline and a match,” Monica had complained. But
the way it was, death was probably the only opportunity for either to escape.
That, or his friendship with Jenn and Nick blowing to high heaven, which wasn’t
likely. So in the meantime the women tortured each other in the pretense of
pleasing their husbands. It was a twisted relationship.
Matt flipped his
phone open and said, “Phone Monica.” Her pretty face lit up the screen until
her voice mail took over. He said, “Hey, it’s late. Call me,” and shut the
phone. His eyes riveted on the clock. One-ten and thirty three seconds. He had
two choices: call Jenn or call for help. He couldn’t justify calling anyone
until after he talked to Jenn, but that felt wrong.
In his mind, Jenn
hovered one inch from center court in his life, and always had. He’d known her
since the day she’d shown up in his best friend’s trailer home. Shawn had
proudly pointed at his baby sister. “You can hold her.” His friend lifted the
bundle from the cardboard box doubling as a crib and held her out.
Matt had stepped back,
nearly falling over. “I don’t know how.”
“’Course you do.
You’ve got little brothers and sisters. You know better ‘n me how to do this.”
Seconds later Jenn landed in his arms feeling as heavy as a sack of rocks and
as soft as a bag of marshmallows.
“I gotta take care of
her—you know—bring her up,” Shawn had said. His hand waved back and forth. “Me
and you. We’re gonna do a good job. Mom said so. She's ours now.”
“Huh?” Five-year olds
took care of puppies and potato bugs, not babies.
Not a day afterward
excluded Jenn until he left for college. Except for the times when she was
madder than a swarm of killer bees and after him, he’d liked them all. But a
gap had happened, piling into years. It wasn’t until Matt stopped in town to
visit Shawn, dragging his college roommate and business partner Nick Washington
along, that he encountered Jenn again. He hadn’t intended to introduce Nick, and
never imagined it would result in a diamond ring and marriage. The kid he’d
towed around in a wagon returned to his life as a Mrs.
Washington wasn’t a
bad second choice for the spit-fire girl he and Shawn raised—the kid he had
kissed a few times and thought he’d marry, and probably would have if they
hadn't been sidetracked. He still thought of her as only a thin slice this side
of perfect, although Monica had other opinions.
The cell phone
vibrated and Jenn’s coy smile lit the screen. Like a ton of bricks hitting him,
Matt instantly knew everything—Monica was with Jenn. Both women had been known
to set aside war occasionally to appease their husbands. And Monica,
understanding Jenn’s loneliness when Nick left town would drop by to help Jenn
jump the isolation hurdle. Monica had left him a voice mail earlier saying she
planned to catch up with Jenn for a few minutes after work. Maybe she’d been
running late and stopped by after kick-boxing instead.
Usually when Monica
returned after a house call she’d say either, “Jenn’s got it tough. Her
whatcahmacallit’s broken. Be a honey and drop by tomorrow to fix it,” or “I’m
done. No more. I’m washing my hands. She’s all yours. Leave me out of this
whole friendship thing.”
What was it tonight
between the women, he wondered—getting along or getting on nerves? He fixed a
lot of things for Jenn Washington. Apparently tomorrow would be another day of
digging through his toolbox for a screwdriver—or possibly mending fences
between the women.
Flipping open his cell
phone, Matt lost sight of Jenn’s smile but put on a broad one of his own—Monica
would walk through the door soon either feeling great about her perfect life,
or cursing Jenn for some infraction that disrupted paradise. It was time to
find out what the women were up to—and pull a hint from Jenn about Monica’s
mood.
End Chapter 3
Please tune in again soon for chapter 4. Remember, I'd like comments (I think...). Be honest, but also be polite. Keep them brief. Thanks tons!
To read chapters 1 - 3 you'll need to go to older posts. Sorry about the inconvenience. :)
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