My Novel: Chapter 14

Running:

I don't just run and only run--I'm not fanatical. I also run my life. At this moment I'm operating a huge fix-up, clean-up, staging-process as I prepare my house for sale. I'm squeezing in exercising. Some days it's like I'm prying apart huge vice grips and jumping inside to accomplish what I want.

Writing:

And then I added posting one of my novels? I seriously have huge delusions on what I can get done in the matter of a few months (that have narrowed down to a few weeks). Writing tip: Squeeze in writing even when it seems time is tight.

Above: I've dug a carpet scrap from our storage unit and have begun edging it. This photo was taken 2 weeks ago mid-project. Now it's sitting in my little TV nook looking all sweet and cozy and totally perfect. And since that day I've dug out this manuscript and done some tweaking and placed it here! Like the rug, it will eventually be completely posted in place in my blog. Enjoy!

Secrets at Midnight

Leona Palmer Haag

Chapter 14

A scream rose in Jenn’s throat, threatening to strangle her. “Stop the car,” she gasped.

Matt pushed on the accelerator. “Think for a minute—why does a baby who never travels need a passport?” he asked. “ Why did Nick buy you a gun and insist you learn how to defend yourself? Why did a body appear in your yard instead of the neighbor’s? There are a lot of questions you should have asked long ago. Start asking now.”

Clutching the door handle, Jenn frantically felt around for the window lever. “How fast can you stop? I need to throw up!” Poor Matthew Willard Jensen didn't believe her, so she punched the window button, but nothing budged. She slammed it the other way and the pane of glass started moving, but not quick enough. The inside of the window, the car door, her lap, her feet and the dashboard caught her stomach contents. He swore under his breath almost as bad as she had a couple nights before and stomped on the brakes, swerving around a semi outlined with hundreds of glowing lights.

“Please stop,” Jenn begged, although it was no longer necessary. Outside a cloud of dust billowed around the car, catching up as it slowed on the roadside. Inside the seatbelt bit into her, holding her back from the windshield. She thrust her hands out to stop her forehead from slamming into the dashboard, but they slid off Texas revisited—barbecue and baked bean style.

Tires screeched as Matt pulled to a halt on the shoulder, and the sound of spraying gravel beneath them settled. He flipped on the hazard lights, sending flashing red beams over the scene, lighting the car’s interior emergency. He faced her, an unreadable expression frozen on his face. It would have made her laugh any other time, but not now. “I'm sorry,” Jenn whispered. She wiped her hands on her pants. “I’m so sorry.” She tried to open the glove box to search for tissues and succeeded after several slippery attempts, but there was nothing useful inside. He obviously didn't often travel with a child—or a woman with an upset stomach.

Matt regained the ability to speak. “You okay?”

She gasped several breaths and surveyed the mess. “No. There's a package of baby wipes in the diaper bag behind your seat. Do you mind?”

He came to life and shot out of his door and slammed it shut, then leaned against the car, probably gasping for air. Apparently he recovered enough to open the back door and rummage around until he found the wipes. He slammed the door shut, causing Katie to whimper in her sleep.

Jenn stared at her legs splattered with vomit—something she might expect from Katie, but nothing she’d ever done before. She shoved her door open and scrambled out, gasping for fresh air and hoping to not lose a second load, almost plowing over Matt. Man, he could move fast when necessary!

She released more barbeque on knee-high wheat waving in the breeze while Matt kept a safe distance between the glaring headlights.

 “Thanks, and sorry about that,” Jenn said, straightening up and covering her mouth with a shaking hand. He held out wipes at arm’s length. She whipped four sheets from the container and began cleaning up, dabbing and swiping without making progress on her knees as gravity pulled it downward, puddling it in her sandals. She grabbed a dozen more wipes and continued. But the coating saturated everything. Her next release bent budding grain heads to the ground.

Matt retreated to the back of the car to wait out the storm. A moment later he popped the trunk. He returned, offering fresh clothing.

“And where do you suggest I change?” she snapped. She snatched the t-shirt and shorts from his outstretched hands and looked around. “There’s not a restroom in sight—only desolate fields without a hint of privacy.”

“Then be glad it’s dark and traffic’s light.” He promptly turned his back. “I’ll block the view from oncoming cars. Make it quick.”

She set the clothes on the car roof and attacked the inside of the door, unfortunate window, and soggy floor as best she could until she ran out of wipes. Matt lounged near the bumper saying nothing, with his arms firmly folded over his chest.

“Keep your back to me or you’ll regret it,” she called when there wasn’t anything more she could do to rescue his car. He nodded, and she took that as agreeing to his death if he peeked. She changed as fast as she could, trying to avoid oncoming headlights and curious eyes, all the while designing ways to punish him if he misbehaved. Fortunately for him, he kept his word and she didn’t need to scratch his eyes out.

Once they were on their way again Jenn said, “I can’t roll the window up.”

A deeper furrow formed on Matt’s brow. “You broke it?”

“No. The smell is nauseating and I might not be able to get it down fast enough again.” He glanced quickly at her and nodded, accelerating to nearly one hundred for several minutes before letting up on the gas. They drove into Denver with the wind whistling so loudly they couldn't talk, which she decided was best anyway. She swore ignorance was bliss and wished she could rewind her life to that lost state.

Once Katie had settled into a Marriott hotel bed, Jenn disappeared into the bathroom. She rinsed out her pants and shirt and hung them over the shower rod. She threw her sandals into the sink and cleaned them. She jumped into the shower and stood under the warm spray and released tears. How did her life become so miserable? And it went deeper than vomit. Why had Nick lied to her for nearly ten years? She slowly lathered up and rinsed off. She repeated the process, hoping clean would sink in, but it didn’t wash away the sting searing her heart.

With her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing her circus tent nightgown, Jenn emerged and stood in front of the TV screen blocking Matt's view, catching his full attention. “I take it Monica isn't really a secretary?”

He shook his head and waved for her to move.

She held her ground, pulling her night gown out at the sides like giant wings to make sure he couldn’t catch even an edge of the picture. “And you don't number-crunch?”

His eyes locked on hers. “Not exactly.”

“What do you do, Mr. Insurance Man?”

“The hard stuff. I keep your husband alive.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly how do you do that if he's in Colombia and you're here?”

“Skillfully. I’m good at what I do.” He grinned.

She grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off and threw it onto the desk out of his reach. “I'm tired of asking questions.” Her lip quivered involuntarily, so she spun away.

“I’d rather be in Colombia right now—if that helps,” he called after her.

She spun back and pointed at the door. “Go. I wouldn’t dream of stopping you—probably couldn’t, even it I tried.”

“I didn't get the assignment.”

“Why not? You begged to stay home?”

“No, it's just the way the cookie crumbles. Sometimes I get what I want, and sometimes I don't. That's how real life works, kid. You should know that by now.” He got up and retrieved the remote and clicked on the TV.

She rolled her eyes. “Nick shouldn't be there. He doesn't speak Spanish. He can't even order a taco without mispronouncing it.”

Matt remained silent as he sat down and surfed channels. She placed her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, are you saying he does?”

He nodded. “Fluently. With a Cuban twang when needed, or Mexican or Bolivian or Colombian. He's also mastered Portuguese and a dozen other languages.”

With her knees turning rubbery, Jenn sank into a chair. “I don't even know my own husband? Nearly ten years of married bliss were really a sham?”

Matt appeared contrite—perhaps. He turned off the TV and crossed the room and sat on the corner of his bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees so his face stopped inches from hers. He rocked slightly back and forth several times as if gathering his thoughts, or perhaps arranging them in a specific order. “No, Jenn. You've had ten years of married bliss because you never worried. He never saw fear in your eyes. He was lucky. I can't claim the same. Rebecca knew my line of work and was scared spitless half the time. Nick knew about her feelings and vowed to spare you. Until now he succeeded. You’ve both been lucky.”

“You call this lucky?” She nodded her head around the hotel room. “I’m where—in Colorado—instead of home. And where’s Nick? What’s he doing right now? When will he come home? And if I’m here, how will I even know he’s home?”

His jaw worked, tensing and relaxing. He looked away from her eyes for a moment, then returned a steady gaze. “He's not coming right away. He’s in Colombia—in what we call a hole.”

Jenn couldn’t believe another word from Matt. Everything he said seemed impossible, and new information—something she’d never dream up on her own—kept assaulting her, twisting her thoughts into confusing knots. How could she decipher the truth? To buy time, and possibly answers, she calmed her facial expressions. “That sounds awful. Explain it.”

He sighed, glancing behind her shoulder as if seeking an escape route, then quietly said, “He picked up a tail. He successfully unattached himself, but he hasn’t been able to leave the area, so he's hiding. He'll surface when the coast is clear. He'll come home as soon as possible. I've got his back, that's why I've got you and Katie in hiding. This whole scenario—me taking care of you and Katie—has been in place for years, ready to use if ever needed.”

Shoving a pillow over her ears probably wouldn’t stop Matt from spouting some new unbelievable line, and neither would anything she said, but she gave it her best shot. “We're in a hotel room in Denver. How hidden is that? Anyone could track your credit card and find us. We're leaving a trail behind us and have probably picked up a tail of our own.”

“I'm sure we haven't. The office card won't be tracked. I'd trade places with Nick if I could. The best I can do now is keep you from turning into bait, ransom money, or a reason for your husband’s senseless surfacing or retaliation.”  

Smoothly, one line after another fell from Matt’s lips as if he’d rehearsed them a hundred times. She folded her arms and studied her opponent. “All I want is Nick.”

“Yeah, I know. That and other things I can’t deliver.” He got up and pulled his blankets back. “Get some sleep.” He crawled into bed and turned his back on her. “Get the light.”

Jenn snapped off the light in a huff. She slid into her bed and stared at Matt’s shadowy form with feelings surging between annoyance, pity, fear and a desire to pound his back until he coughed up the truth. She finally gave up trying to pry unspoken answers from his motionless form and turned away to clutch Katie. Tiny sobs started softly, then grew, expanding and caving in her chest until they nearly crushed out life. Everything stable had crumbled. She cried herself to sleep, not caring whether Matt heard her agony or not. 

End Chapter 14