dragon
© 2005
An excursion into SHADO country seen through the eyes of a woman who lost out to a cause.
1970
She'd gone to the party at her friends' insistence, never intending to stay long and certainly not looking for Prince Charming. The party was loud, crowded, bordering on drunken already when they arrived. That seemed to be the instant signal for her friends to disappear into the crowd, except for Faith who knew better than to abandon her to her fate. They mixed for a while until Faith spotted an old friend and dragged her over to meet him.
Faith's friend was tall, older, craggy faced with a nice smile and nothing to write home about, even if his whisky rough voice had an Aussie accent attached to it. Her parents would never approve and he held no charm for her. She looked away for a moment, wondering if one more gin and tonic would make the party any more interesting. She looked back at Faith to let her know what she was doing when she met a pair of startling blue eyes under fair brows. They both blinked as though not quite certain they were seeing what they were seeing.
"Alec, introduce us," she heard him say over the noise around them.
Alec was the big Aussie. He looked to Faith who leaned forward and whispered in his ear, giggling afterward. Alec introduced them. "Col. Edward Straker, Miss Mary Roberts. She's .. (garbled) .. secretary."
He smiled at her. Oh my, he smiled at her. A face like an angel and he smiled at her. Somehow, she took his arm and they walked through the crowd like there was no one else there. Maybe there wasn't anyone else there. She only knew that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever met and that his touch on her lace-clad arm was warm and she felt ... she didn't know what she felt. She wanted him to talk forever and tell her absolutely everything about himself.
He let go of her for a moment to grab drinks and the magic faded somewhat. The stranger named Edward Straker was military, obvious from his uniform, American and a good deal older than she was. He handed her a glass of champagne, a half smile warming his pale face. He really was a good deal too beautiful for a man. Yet there was strength and character in his face as well.
Mary pulled herself up short. What was she thinking? He was a Yank. Her parents would be horrified. That brought a chuckle to her throat and a twinkle of mischief to her eyes. It would serve them jolly well right for continuing to throw that ape Rutland in her way. She turned a bewitching smile on the American fellow and nodded as though she perfectly understood whatever it was he just said.
When he called her a week later, her better judgment said to tell him there was no future in their relationship. Her better judgment was stuffed in a mental trash receptacle and she went to dinner and a movie. Over the next weeks they spent more and more time together when they weren't working until he finally did the amazingly old fashioned down on one knee proposal, ring box in hand. The diamond was respectable and before she quite knew where she was, instead of saying, "Let me think about it" she said, "Yes. Oh, yes! I will marry you! I love you so much ..." At which point the conversation degenerated badly into murmured idiocy and kisses.
She wore a broad brimmed white lacy hat and a lacy white dress, completely ignoring having jumped the marital gun the night he proposed. A couple of times she met Alec's dark gaze and knew that he did not approve. He was putting on a good face for his friend just as her parents put a good face on their reception of her announcement that she was getting married to a Yank she'd only known for a couple of months. For a moment she wondered how she'd had the sheer guts to face her mother's aghast reaction. Her smile deepened, making her very pale blue eyes twinkle in such a captivating manner her new husband was once again bewitched by her. She met his look and her smile warmed. They were going to be so happy. Happily ever after did happen.
January 1972
Mary Straker stared at the words she'd written so childishly in her diary. Thank god the man had never found the foolish thing. Happily ever after ... had she really written that? Had she truly been so naive as to think that this marriage would run smoothly? She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly, loving and hating the life inside that made her so unattractive to her husband. She brushed the tears away impatiently. Damn him. How dare he promise her everything and then forget all about her?
She sat and sniffed for a few moments before getting angry again. It wasn't as though he was still in the military. She could have understood that, going off to do military things for weeks on end... but this! He bought a movie studio, of all things. He didn't even know anything about producing movies! But he certainly knew about pretty girls, she fumed silently. And that Alec Freeman .... ooooooh, she just wanted to throttle that man. You never saw him without a beautiful woman on his arm and a drink in his hand.
She pouted slightly at that. Edward didn't drink any more. She didn't understand that either. Oh, the occasional drink, but not with her. What was it? Research showed that mothers who drank had sickly babies. Well her mother had certainly had a drink or two in her time and it hadn't made any problems with either of her girls. She sniffed and gulped as her eyes filled with tears and overflowed again. What had she done to make him hate her so?
The logical part of her mind frowned and admonished her not to be such a ninny-hammer. He was busy setting up a business. That took long hours of hard work, she reminded herself. Which was when the nastly little guttersnipe of her ego took over. Long hours of hard work with beautiful starlets who had no shame and no compunctions about throwing themselves at married men to get what they wanted. How was he supposed to react? "I have a pregnant wife at home." She could just hear the strident laughter of the women who were seducing her husband. What did they care that they were becoming a family? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And neither did he! She wailed and threw herself down on the sofa she was sitting on. Damn the man, damn the man, damn the man.
March 1972
He was keeping secrets and she knew it. He was never home, never in his office, never available to even say hello to when he was out of the house. He wasn't available when he was home. He was so distant, so caught up within his own thoughts. She'd tried everything except seducing him. She grimaced at herself in the mirror. Who wanted to be seduced by a cow, anyway. She hated the way she looked. No matter what she did there was no disguising that huge belly.
The baby thumped and a fleeting smile warmed her face as she touched the place the baby kicked. He was going to be a perfect baby. She frowned a little as something inside pinched, for want of a better word. Lately between her growing discomfort and Ed's distance, she'd wondered if she was hurting the baby with all her crying and fussing. She hoped not.
The front doorbell went off and she went to answer it. Mother. What on earth did she want now? Couldn't she let well enough alone? If she said one more disparaging thing about Ed ...
"Mother." This was not good. She knew that pursed, triumphant look.
The older woman thrust a manila folder at her daughter as she practically stalked past the blonde into the entry hall. Her usual look of disdain said it all. She turned dramatically and demanded that Mary look at the contents.
"I'll look at it later."
"You'll look at it now. I never approved of That Man. You know I didn't."
"No, you approved of George," Mary shot back bitterly. She couldn't believe that George Rutland was sniffing around again. She was a married woman and not in the least interested in anything other than her husband and soon to be baby. "You've been encouraging him ..."
"Will you look at the photos, girl," her mother snapped back.
Something horribly cold and terrible and empty took up roost in Mary's heart. Photos. Oh, God. That could only mean one thing. "You hired an investigator!" she practically shrieked at her mother, surprising the woman no end. Still, her hand opened the folder and she looked down. Her world crumpled, as did her face. No. No, please no. The tears ran down her face as she glanced through the stack. Beauty after beauty with her husband. It didn't matter that there weren't any shots of him touching them, hugging them, kissing them; all she could see was that they were beautiful, exotic, slender ....
She screamed at her mother to leave. "Get out! Get out! I told you not to do this! Get out!" She wanted to be alone with her misery. She sat and poured over and over the pictures until they didn't focus, until she was hiccupping with tears clogging her throat as well as her eyes. She wanted to die. Just die. He didn't love her any more. Had he ever loved her? He didn't want her, he wanted these ... these ... hussies! She sobbed inconsolably for a while until her hurt ran down.
She felt hollow. Now what? She couldn't stay with him, could she? He didn't want her. He didn't want her ... but he did want his son, didn't he? Maybe they could make a bargain. What kind of a bargain could she make? Keep me so you can see your son? What if it was a girl? Would he not want either of them? Yet he'd been so happy when she told him they were going to have a baby. It was only lately he'd been so distant.
Could a heart break? She felt a chasm between one beat and the next, but her heart didn't stop. Well, he could be home any time now. Maybe she'd best clean up. She wouldn't let him see how much he hurt her. No, maybe it was for the best if they made a clean break of it now, before the baby was born. Ow. That hurt you little dickens. She rubbed her belly and it twinged again. Dismissing the thought that she might have brought on a touch of premature labor by throwing a fit, she went upstairs to clean up and change. He would damn well regret what he was losing.
She was so angry by the time he finally got home; she missed the look on his face entirely as she screamed at him. Standing in the middle of the steep stairway she delivered her proof and her ultimatum. "I want a divorce." Her belly twinged, cramping hard and causing her to shift her footing on the stairway. The carpet gave no purchase as her foot slipped out from under her entirely. Terror held sway as she plummeted to the floor. Only peripherally did she see the same terror mirrored on Ed's face as he tried to catch her, to keep her safe. How could he look that way and not love her?
The muscles of her belly became the whole world abruptly as they cramped hard. No, oh no! Not now! Coherency left her as she hit the floor and combination of stress and adrenalin kicked her body into delivery mode. Too early. Too early. No ..... Darkness.
She awoke to pain like she'd never known. She hurt everywhere. She moaned slightly and tried to move. Wires and tubes obstructed her movement. Where was she? What was all this.
"Mary."
His voice. She opened her eyes. He looked terrible. He looked a lot like she felt. She wanted to reach out and smooth the worry from his face. Then the memories came rushing back. The photos. The beautiful women. The fall.
"I ... fell." Her voice cracked.
"You'll be all right. Nothing broke."
A moment of terror touched her. She tried to feel the baby. It was gone. "The baby ..."
That brought a touch of warmth to his frozen face. "He's all right," he told her softly. "A little sooner than planned, but doing fine. They'll bring him in to you in a bit."
"What happened?" She was suddenly desperate to know what had gone wrong. He was a month early and that was not good. He ... Ed said he ... they had a son ....
Gently as he could, Ed explained that she'd gone into labor prematurely; that the doctors had tried to stop the process and failed. Even unconscious, her body had worked perfectly to deliver a beautiful baby boy to them. "Well, I think he's beautiful, but the nurses have their reservations." He realized his attempt at a joke was disturbing her. "He's fine. Really, he is fine. A little underweight, but nothing serious."
"I want to see ... Water."
He correctly translated her change of topic and held the cup for her to sip. The water felt so good going down her parched throat. "You're both fine," he told her, then looked away as he set the cup back on the table. He hesitated before looking back at her. There was such cold misery in his eyes. "I know it's ... the timing is off ... If you really want a divorce ..."
"No." the whispered word was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Was that hope she read in his face?
1974
Dry-eyed, she sat in the leather chair at her solicitor's office and nodded at suitable intervals while he read the divorce settlement. Shared custody of Johnny. Ed would see him on alternate Saturdays. Ed would provide child support commensurate with his position as owner of a movie studio. Ed would provide spousal support in a designated amount until such time as she remarried.
Through it all she felt hollow, dead inside. She'd demanded a divorce and he'd agreed. It was all so very civil. Her mother approved of him for the first time in the four tumultuous years of marriage. Even George grudgingly agreed that Ed was being very correct. She could hear his teeth grind every time he said Ed's name. She sat, twisting the gold ring on her finger, knowing it no longer meant anything and wishing she knew what else she could have done. There had to be something she missed, something that would have saved her marriage, saved her.
She couldn't think of a thing. Not one thing. So now she was divorced from the man who won her heart without trying, without even a thought as to what he was doing, without even really understanding what he'd done. She hated him. No, she tried to hate him. That was the crux of the matter. Every time she saw his worn face, his troubled eyes, something warm and wanting bubbled up inside her. She wanted so much to kiss away that look, to tell him she still loved him, that she wanted him. But he didn't want her, did he?
Obviously not, as he'd divorced her so easily. Yet there was still that longing in his eyes, the warmth that he carefully shut down when he knew she was looking. What went so horribly wrong that she was here? She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the wall of ice between them was impenetrable. So, here she was, listening to the settlement decree, knowing that her rejected suitor would begin his pursuit again and that in the end her mother's plans would win out. Ed was gone.
1975
She looked out the window at the spring buds, the blooms, the birds and took a deep breath. This wedding was the one her mother wanted. There were guests and a cake that looked gargantuan. There was the softly off white dress with it's veil and train. There was Johnny so very smart in his first suit. She was troubled by his not being a part of the wedding party. Ed would have let him bear the ring, she was sure of it. A sour smile crossed her face. If it were Ed waiting for her, she wouldn't be hiding up here in her room. If it was ... but it wasn't. Ed Straker was gone from her life. If it wasn't for his visitation rights, he might have vanished completely.
The thought was lowering. She took another breath, turned from the window and took a last look at herself in the full-length mirror. Blonde hair piled atop her head, she looked elegant and regal in her lace and satin gown. Picking up the bouquet she pasted a smile on her face, pulled her veil into place and went out to meet her new husband. She diligently pushed aside memories of a chaotic wedding day and an American accent repeating ancient words in front of a JP. This was a very proper wedding to a very proper English gentleman with prospects.
All she wanted to do was cry.
The minister droned on and on and on about marriage and responsibility and the proper thing. She presumed she said the right thing in the right places but it was all a blur to her. All she really remembered was Johnny's shining face smiling at her as he fidgeted next to her mother; Johnny with his pale hair and angelic face. Her child. The one her husband didn't want to include in the ceremony because small children were slow and a hindrance.
After the wedding dinner and obligatory dance, George took her on honeymoon to Paris, leaving Johnny at her mother's. For two weeks they did the tourist thing during the day and the newlywed thing at night until she was relieved to get back to England and her son and some semblance of a normal life. She firmly pushed comparisons with those first incredible days with Ed out of her mind. She was Mrs. Mary Rutland now.
She threw herself into finding a house of which George would approve. Two months later, he took her out to a neat and spacious two-story place outside of town. None of her choices met with his approval so he found them a house and at a very good price. It was very nice. It was twice as far for Ed to drive to collect his son. She firmly pushed the isolation factor out of her mind as she smiled and agreed it was a lovely house; making mental notes about changes she wanted to make in the furnishings and the rooms. When she broached the subject of re-doing some of the rooms, George was suavely apologetic. He'd already hired a man and they'd settled on the changes already. He was certain she'd approve.
With a smile she was beginning to feel would go to her grave with her, she nodded and agreed that whatever he and the designer chose would certainly be appropriate. Johnny chose that moment to come barreling into the house to find Mummy. The smile unfroze and warmed as she gave him a hug and started talking to him about the house. She did wish George didn't always look like he was scowling at the boy.
1980
She wanted to die. She lay in bed for hours on end, eyes closed, listening to the terrible, terrible silence. She could not find the strength to get out of bed and face the empty house. Tears leaked from her closed eyes frequently, her sorrow choking her, making her moan in misery from time to time. No one understood how much she hurt, how dreadfully much she felt torn apart. All she could hear were settling sounds. There were no footsteps to break the quiet; no childish laughter or chatter; no Johnny.
She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed. Johnny was dead, his fragile body enfolded in a coffin and buried in the cold, uncaring ground. The scene played out over and over again in her mind, numbly hearing the words that made no sense, watching as they lowered the coffin into the deep black hole in the ground, dropping flowers into the hole and letting them drop shovels of dirt onto his final resting place. Where was Ed? She searched the sparse crowd for his pale head, his face, his presence. Where was he when she needed him? He promised to save their son and failed ... why?
She moaned with a pain that was almost physical. Their son was dead.
"I never want to see you again!!!!!!"
She remembered screaming that at him at the hospital. She'd come from Johnny's deathbed to see his face, so drawn, so sad, so drained and she screamed at him as George took her away. The only thing they had in common was gone. Why would he want to see her? Why would he want to be at the funeral? He hated her and there was no reason for him to be there.
She gulped and surfaced for air. She knew that George disapproved of her behavior. After a month he wanted his wife back, wanted his perfect, beautiful, well cared for wife back from this place she'd gone. He didn't seem to understand that her life was over. No one understood.
The door downstairs opened and closed. Dimly she wondered what George was doing home in the middle of the day. Light footsteps climbed the stairs and the door to her room opened.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," her mother's voice grated on her in its high bred nasal way. She moved purposefully across the room, flinging open the drapes and letting sunshine flood in. "Mary ... Get up."
Mary glared at her mother, her normally fair skin blotched and red in places, her pale eyes red rimmed. "I'll get up when I'm ready," she replied sulkily.
"You'll get up now, girl."
When was the woman going to stop calling her that? She just continued to stare at the well kept up and well turned out older woman.
"Mary, it's time to stop this. Johnny's dead and nothing will change that. It's time to put mourning away and get on with your life."
"Get on with my life," she mimicked. "Just forget your son's dead. Just go on as though nothing happened, is that it?" She didn't notice her mother's slightly shocked look. "Just get on with your life. He was just a child. You can always have another one," she viciously parodied some of the things others had told her, or what she thought they had said.
Her mother really did look shocked then. "Mary ..." She took a breath to steady herself. "No one thinks you can replace Johnny," she said softly, tears gathering in her eyes. "No one would be that callous to think you could replace a child. They're all ... different."
There was something in her voice that caught Mary's attention. For the first time in days she really looked at the older woman and saw her. She looked ... old, in spite of her well-kept appearance, she looked her age and older. There were barely restrained tears in her eyes as she sat on the end of the bed.
"All of them," she repeated with a heavy sigh.
For just a moment Mary forgot the pain of Johnny's death and wondered just what her mother was thinking about. "Both of yours lived," she spat out. "And if one of us hadn't ... well, at least you'd have had ... the other one." She made an effort to hold back the tears and failed. She threw her arms around her mother as the woman moved to hold her.
She stroked Mary's disheveled hair and murmured words the younger only half heard until she sat back suddenly and stared in horror. "You miscarried? When?"
"About 10 months after your sister was born. He was due in another two weeks when ... he just stopped moving. The doctor didn't have an answer. No one did. He was beautiful. We had a very small, very private burial. And that was it."
"You never got to know him... You never told us. We never knew ..."
"Your father felt it was better that way."
"Does he feel it better if I just don't talk about Johnny?" she asked bitterly.
"No. But you need to pull yourself together. There will be more children .."
That elicited a bitter laugh. "Will there? If there were going to be more, there would be more... George doesn't really want children. He didn't want Johnny."
"That's not true .."
"Isn't it? Do you see any more children? Do you see a nursery in this house? George had the house redone. George chose the furnishings. George chose not to have a nursery." Her mother flinched at the bitterness, the hardness in her daughter's voice. "But, you're right. I should get up. After all, it doesn't do for the show wife to have feelings for anything other than her husband's wants, does it?" Her eyes were bright with anger and pain.
An hour later, George was home. If he was pleased to see his mother-in-law, he didn't show it. He gave his wife a hard look as she met him brightly, with a light kiss on the cheek and a rigid smile. If he caught the look she threw her mother, he showed no sign of that either. When his wife suggested they go out to dinner, as she hadn't been out of the house in an age, he agreed and went to change. Two sets of pale eyes met, one troubled by her son in laws apparent callous attitude, the other almost triumphant in her evaluation of the matter. They parted easily with a hug and an air kiss apiece.
1985
"You what?" he thundered, his face suffusing with red as he glared at her.
"I want a divorce," she responded calmly. Inside she wasn't nearly as calm as she looked. Over the last couple of years George's temper had become uncertain. She met his dark look directly. Either he'd pop his cork or he'd be reasonable. She wasn't certain which.
"You want a divorce, do you? Think you'll take me the way you did Straker? Think again. You've contributed nothing since we've been married, nothing," he snarled. "Not even kids."
"Hardly my fault, George. I wanted children. You knew that when we married. I've done nothing to prevent getting pregnant. That there aren't any children ... " she shrugged. "Maybe Johnny was the only chance we had."
"Johnny," he sneered. "Frail little wimp."
If he expected her to react, he was disappointed. "You'll find I've taken only what can reasonably be designated mine. You'll hear from my solicitor in a few days."
That threw him. She'd already moved out? No. Dammit, no! He reached out and grabbed her as she walked toward the door. No, she would not leave him! Not after all the work he'd done to get her and keep her. Sometime later he heaved himself off the bed and looked down at what he'd done. He knew cold fear in the pit of his stomach looking at the heavy bruising down one side of her no longer perfect face. He tried to brazen it through in his mind. She was his wife. A little discipline was allowable ... Tabloid photos played through his mind. Maybe he shouldn't have hit her that hard. Still, she was his wife and she would stay his wife.
As soon as he left the house for work the next day, she called her solicitor. No, she had not left the house the night before. He had hit her and, well, the ensuing bedroom scene was not been the most consensual she'd ever had. She was, however, leaving now if someone would send a taxi for her.
The divorce trial was quiet. Photos of the damage inflicted on her were used to point out the error of his ways to her soon to be ex-husband. The division of goods was swift and equitable. With the proceeds, she purchased a small house, not quite as isolated as the one they'd shared and rebuilt her life without a man. Not without occasional companionship, but without a permanent anchor to her life.
1990 - October 16
October was cold and wet, as an English fall was inclined to be. She sat at her desk working on her second novel. It was coming along well, the hero not too heroic, the heroine not quite as incredibly lovely as in most romances and the two children coming across as very, very real. She chuckled at the reviews her friends gave her as they read her chapters. A small pang struck as she wondered what Johnny would have thought of her career; teaching assistant at a private school for transplanted Americans by day and author at night.
She was about to set pen to paper again when there was a thump at her door. She looked up and frowned. If that stupid dog was at it again... This time the thump was surely farther up the door than the dog could manage. She looked at the clock. It was late. Really too late for anyone to call. She frowned at the door and made a decision.
The man leaning against the doorframe was a mess, dirty and bloody, his once probably cream colored suit a write off. He raised his head to see who came to his rescue and they both looked startled.
"Edward," she breathed and reached out to help him into the house.
October 18
The two men looked grim as they walked toward the one story bungalow. The place was partially hidden from the rest of the small court, with the entryway nearly to the back, a sweep of driveway leading around the house to the garage in the back. It was sheltered and not obvious that there was anything amiss. The door hung by one hinge, something having smashed it in. There were smears of blood on the frame, a partial handprint and another smear on the door. In side, a dirt and blood stained towel lay beside the couch before the cold fireplace. There were traces of dirt and blood on the couch as well.
"He was here. I know it."
"Gone now."
They both looked at the door and knew that it was not willingly.
"Any sign of the owner?"
"Some pages over here. Writing something out long hand." He snorted. "Romance, by the look of it. Here's a photo." A sweet faced blonde woman and a little boy. He handed it to the grizzled older man who swore suddenly. "What?"
"That's his ex-wife and kid."
"Straker has a kid?"
"Had. Died around the time you joined us so you never met him. Bright boy."
A third man came in from the kitchen with a woman's purse. The ID confirmed the photo. The house belonged to his ex-wife. If Straker was damaged, which given the state of his car, messily parked in a ditch a little under a mile away, was pretty much a certainty, he did not kick in the door. "Mary let him in - no idea why."
"And then someone took them both away," the other finished grimly.
End?
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