TWILIGHT IMAGES

Chapter One

Chapter One

Dorothy Connors was busy packing Thad’s things when she heard him coming down the hall.  She turned with a welcoming smile, snapping the lock in place on the last suitcase as he stepped into the room.  “Well,” she ask, her face beaming, and it was easy to see she was pleased with herself that she had finally convinced him to go, “are you about ready?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he grinned sheepishly.  “I don’t leave until the weekend you know.”

She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and glanced back at the packed bags on the foot of the bed.  “I know, sweetheart,” she said.  “I’ve still got you all to myself for a few more days, but I was just trying to help.  You know how you procrastinate . . . And I didn’t want us to have to be up all night Friday night trying to get everything ready for your little adventure.”

He knew she was right.  He had to go back to the cabin, it was the only place left to go.  But calling it an adventure?  Maybe an adventure in hell!  But, hell or not, he knew it was his only hope.  What else could he do?  Everything else he had tried had only turned up a great big zero.  Dead end . . . no new leads, no new evidence.  Absolutely nothing.  For the past ten years . . . absolutely nothing!

And still, Dorothy might be right---Thad thought about it almost on a daily basis, and in the end he had to admit it, even to himself---she probably was.  But that didn’t make the decision to go any easier.  She couldn’t get off work for another two weeks, and that left Thad with having to make the trip all alone.  She would join him later . . . but two whole weeks?  How could he ever survive that long without her?

He reached out and pulled his young wife into his open arms and gave her a hungry squeeze.  Her hair smelled fresh and clean as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck.  Her curves melted into his.  If only she could see into his heart . . . if only she could see how much he truly loved and depended on her.

“Do you have any idea of how lonely it’s going to be up there all by myself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she teased, “I think I really do.”  She nestled closer and Thad smiled as he pressed a tender kiss to the side of her neck.  “But just think of all the fun we can have catching up after I get there, too.”

Thad had met Dorothy in October of 1999, his senior year at CSU-Pueblo.  And since that fateful day, nearly six years ago now, they had never been separated for even so much as one day.  He had always thought that love at first sight was something only dreamed about in romance novels or movies, but much to his surprise---and to Dorothy’s as well---it had happened that way for the both of them.

Dorothy was then, as she continued to be each and every day of his life since, the rock and strength by which he lived.  She knew him better than any other human being ever could.  Soul mates!  That was what they were.  And more important---that was what they would forever remain.

He tried to smile then, but it turned out to be more of a mournful looking lopsided grin.  “Okay, okay,” he conceded.  “You know you’re always right.  I am a big boy, and I know I can survive without you by my side for a few lousy days.”

She slipped one arm comfortably around his waist and led him from the room.  “Come on,” she urged, her smile still bright, her thoughts still hopeful to cheer him up, “give me a break.  I would gladly go along with you right now, but you know old man Thomas.  I love working with him and Mary Kate, it’s a fun job, but to hear him tell it, ‘Thomas’ Travel & Tours’ is the most important business here in Pueblo.  He’s just such a stickler about rules and regulations.  I already put in for my vacation for the last week in April and the first week in May, and he won’t budge even an inch and let me change it. If I could . . . you know I would.”

“I know,” Thad grumbled.  “And really . . . it’s alright.”  He knew she enjoyed her job, and he was proud she did, so many people seemed to work dead-end jobs, with no real hope for advancement.  But not Dorothy.  She could see her future.  She saw herself running the small firm in the not too distant future when Mr. Thomas retired.  “Besides . . .” he continued, “I’ll probably need all the extra time I can get to try and get the old place in any kind of order at all.  No one’s been up there in so many years . . . it will no doubt be filled to the rafters with cobwebs and dust.”

He saw his wife shudder at the gruesome thought and couldn’t help laughing out loud as they stepped into the aroma filled kitchen.  “Can I give you a hand with dinner?”

Dorothy playfully slapped his hand away as he reached to lift a lid off one of the simmering pots on the stove.  “Nope,” she replied, reaching herself for a nearby wooden spoon, sitting on a pink, pig shaped ceramic spoon rest on the counter.  “Everything’s under control.  You just need to wash up and have a seat.”

And then, a short ten minutes later, after setting the table and pulling the salad from the refrigerator, she and Thad sat down to a delicious smelling dinner of her ‘secret’ recipe spaghetti and meat balls, smothered in a luscious thick mushroom sauce.

And once again, as so often he caught himself doing, Thad over did himself.  He felt stuffed, almost to the point of feeling miserable, but never once did she hear him complain.  Dinner was over, the dishes piled into a sink of soapy water, left to be done later, and he and Dorothy retreated to the sanctuary of their bedroom.  They had only a few more days left before his scheduled trip.

And tonight was tonight . . .

And tonight . . . Thad slept fitfully.

 Thad awoke with a start.  He felt his heart hammering at a full gallop, his lungs screaming for air.  His fists gripping the sheets at his sides into tightly balled up knots.  It was so dark, pitch black.  ‘Calm down, you’ve got to calm down,’ his mind lectured.  ‘Just take a deep breath and relax.’  He sucked at the air, finally pulling a refreshing breath into his aching lungs, and turned his head on the pillow, his eyes searching the darkness.  He stared at the clock on the nightstand.  The faint glow of the digital numbers cleared in vision.  It was 2:30 a.m. ---hardly the time to be waking up---but what made him think tonight might be any different from all the rest he had experienced in the past ten years?

He felt cold, he felt wet, and for a long moment as he lay in the darkened bedroom, listening to gentle rhythm of his wife’s breathing on the other side of the bed, he caught himself praying that their king sized water bed might have sprung a leak.  But then---with a shudder that rocked him to the soles of his feet---he realized once again he was drenched with the icy cold perspiration of his nightmares.