Let Not Man Put Asunder

Let Not Man Put Asunder

Book 2 of the Coalition Trilogy

by Victor Travison

Smashwords edition copyright 2010

by Victor Travison

All rights reserved

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Please visit my website at http://victortravison.webs.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Nightmares

Chapter 2: Princess Diane

Chapter 3: The Dixons’ Dilemma

Chapter 4: Wesley’s New Home

Chapter 5: A Job Well Done

Chapter 6: Self-Serve Wonder Woman

Chapter 7: The Recruiters

Chapter 8: The Tragic Case of Vicky

Chapter 9: Hidden Strengths

Chapter 10: Pursuit Routes

Chapter 11: Conspiracy of Silence

Chapter 12: Going to the Chapel

Chapter 13: The Robbins Wedding

Chapter 14: Dollars and Sense

Chapter 15: Party at Sheffield Lake

Chapter 16: Glenda’s Jinx

Chapter 17: Spoons

Chapter 18: A Sister’s Obsession

Chapter 19: Melody Harrison, P.I.

Chapter 20: Tempers Flare

Chapter 21: The Windmill

Chapter 22: The Great Admission

Chapter 23: Ask a Detective

Chapter 24: Sting Like a Bee

Chapter 25: Lilian Puts Her Foot Down

Chapter 26: Melody in Custody

Chapter 27: A Day on the Town

Chapter 28: The Broken Step

Chapter 29: A Walk in the Park

Chapter 30: That Healing Touch

Chapter 1

Nightmares

I’m gonna die!

The crackle of fire. Smoke in her nostrils. Her breath came in gasps. She felt alone. Ardent red and orange light played around her. Her heart beat rapidly. Frantically she ran this way, and the other. She had to get out … somehow. Where was the front door? One way she turned, she saw fire. Turn another direction, roaring flames stopped her.

She screamed.

From somewhere in the distance, she heard other cries. The children, she said under her breath. They’re trapped. Where are they?

Somewhere amid of the ardent light, the wails mingled with the crackling, roaring inferno. Sometimes they faded, but returned.

Mommy! Help me, screamed the voice of one. Mommy, Mommy, help me! Two others were bawling.

I must save them … must save them …

But where were the cries coming from? She knew there were rooms and hallways around her, but they were lost in the surreal fire. Nevertheless, the children’s cries came clearly.

Mommy! Help me, Mommy. Help me!

Seven-year-old Eugene’s plea was the only one with words. His siblings were too young to do more than wail. His five-year-old sister Kathleen’s piercing, frantic screech was unmistakable. The youngest one, three-year-old Michael, howled from the depths of his little lungs.

I’m coming! she called. Hang on, Genie. Hang on, Mikey, Kathy. I’m coming!

She was very near tears herself, desperately trying to locate them. I know where their bedrooms are. But where am I? How can I get to them from here? Frantically she tried to see past the incessant flames. There must be some way around the fire.

Mommy! Help me. Mommy, Mommy, help me! Eugene’s voice seemed constantly out of her reach.

Smoke roiled around and choked her. The more she groped, the farther the voices seemed. Charred wood broke around her, showering sparks. Wallpaper cinders still glowed. One wall near her crumbled in fiery ash. The children’s final screams became lost in the flames.

A louder crack came from above. She looked up. Charred and burning on both ends, a rafter broke free and fell toward her. Its descent replayed over and over. She cringed, screamed. The beam knocked her hip first to the hard, hot floorboards. Sharp pains shot through her body. She screamed.

Help me! This time it was her cry. I’m trapped. Somebody help me!

Lil! Lil! Wake up. The urgent feminine voice sounded familiar. Wake up, Lil! You’re having another nightmare.

The jostling pulled her violently from the surreal images. The pain of the heavy rafter on her legs lessened. Lilian panted heavily. Blearily she turned to gaze into her cousin’s face. Glen. The name came out as a breath.

Glenda hovered over her, her brows pinched together. It’s the fire again, isn’t it? she said, sympathy in her tone.

Nodding, Lilian melted in her cousin’s arm. She sobbed onto her nightgown shoulder, amid red curls. Sweat and tears mingled to paste Lilian’s hair over her face. Glenda tried to pull the hair away and behind her ear, but let her cry.

It was as real as when it happened, cried Lilian squeakily. I couldn’t save them. I tried. I went toward their bedrooms … I could hear them … but I failed.

I know, and a beam stopped you. You’re … It’s good the firemen found you in time. Lilian knew Glenda almost said she was lucky, but caught herself.

But the children died, Glen! They burned to death. Never had a chance at life … She continued wracking sobs from her lungs. They were your cousins, too. Don’t you care?

Of course I care, said Glenda with a tinge of annoyance. But that was five years ago. You shouldn’t still be having nightmares about it after all this time.

But I do! In the daytime I can function well enough … but the memories still haunt me. I keep thinking … I should send Kathy a birthday card … I should ask for the kids to stay at my house for the weekend …

Oh, Lil …

And at night, it keeps coming back. The horrible fire keeps coming back! They were crying, Glen. Crying! They wanted Mama, but she was already outside. I tried to save them … but I failed … I failed …

Lilian erupted into a new round of self-accusation. I should have died with them! I should have burned to death with them for failing. At least I’d be with them in Heaven. She scoffed. But what good does anticipating Heaven do me now? I want to see them … today! I want to see them … apologize to them …

Glenda patted her back with a shh-shh.

Why did God have to take them, Glen, huh? Three precious lives … snuffed out before they had a chance to grow up. Why did He have to take them … instead of … instead of … Her bawling drowned out all other words.

The only thing Glenda could do was hold her weeping cousin close, while tears threatened to invade her as well. Having invited Lilian to come to Rapid City to live with her, she had hoped the different venue would help her get over the sense of failure. But this was the third night she had awakened, screaming. The move had done nothing more than let the cousins reunite.

After Lilian cried herself out, Glenda tried to go back to sleep but it was tough. What Lilian had said about wanting to entertain her younger siblings brought back memories of their personalities. Eugene had been a live wire since he was three. By his seventh birthday, two months before the fire, he had begun to mature and be considerate of others. He wanted to be a fireman, for his grandma had bought him a five-foot-long fire truck for Christmas.

Not only had Kathy loved her dolls and stuffed animals, but she couldn’t get enough of Dora the Explorer. Her thirst for knowledge was unquenchable, which seemed remarkable for a five-year-old. There were times when Glenda thought Kathy knew more about world geography than most college graduates. Dora also sparked an interest in learning Spanish, which her parents happily helped her do. Her knowledge in other areas expanded beyond her years as well. She showed an early penchant for spelling and math, and she could name almost all of the 50 states.

Though Michael had been too young for much in the learning department, except in athletics, he did follow his older brother in everything he wanted to do. Perhaps being aware of Mikey watching him was part of why Genie had started straightening up, becoming more responsible.

A tiny laugh escaped Glenda’s sorrow. What great brothers they’ll become when they grow up! Friends for life. What great kids all of them are!

Were.

The constrictive cord in her chest tightened once again. She would never see them grow up. Never have a chance to observe what would become of them as adults. Glenda couldn’t blame Lilian for saying meeting them in Heaven held little hope for the here and now. Maybe it would sound sacrilegious to someone else, but Glenda understood the feeling. Her grief drove Glenda to prayer for Lilian—the latest of many—that one day soon she would be healed of the fire forever.

Glenda drifted off after that. When the alarm woke her at precisely 6:30 in the morning, she turned it off and rolled partway toward her cousin’s blonde hair. Though she couldn’t see her face, Lilian seemed to be asleep still. She needs all the rest she can get. Glenda climbed out of bed, threw on a housecoat, eased into a pair of slippers, and walked to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, with a towel wrapping her red hair, she moved to the kitchen to fix breakfast.

She fried eggs in one skillet and bacon in another. She poured milk and orange juice for herself and her cousin. She placed two slices of rye bread into the toaster and buttered them as soon as they popped up. All of these she set in two plates, and took them out to the dining table. Since the kitchen was too small for a table, they always ate in the adjoining room.

Lilian was already in her chair when Glenda arrived with the food. She set Lilian’s plate before her first, then put down her own. Going back for silverware, she also distributed these between them.

How did you sleep after the nightmare? asked Glenda.

Picking up a strip of bacon, Lilian munched on its end. Okay, I think. I wish I could get rid of it for good.

Well, you came here to get away from your doting parents and family. Maybe there’s something else you could do, too.

Like what?

Oh, I don’t know. Take a job, maybe.

Lilian had started to sip her juice when she said this, and her eyes glared over the cup’s rim. You’re joking.

No. There must be lots of positions you can handle. I know your parents didn’t want you to work, but I think it would give you something constructive to do all day.

I don’t know any jobs like that, said Lilian gloomily, taking another bite of eggs. Did you have something in mind?

What about speech therapy? That’s what Frank’s sister does for a living. You can help people who lost their voice communicate in other ways. Sign language. Reading lips. You can counsel deaf people.

With a grimace, Lilian turned away, just as a tinkling beat sounded in the distance. Oh, that’s my phone. Can you get it for me?

Sure. Glenda wiped her mouth to stand and rush to the bedroom. She found the cell phone on Lilian’s nightstand, so she picked it up. Hello?

Lilian?

No, this is Glenda.

Tell her it’s her mother.

Oh, hi, Aunt Minnie. How are you doing?

Is Lilian there?

Sure, I’ll put her on. She walked back to the dining room in great strides. We were just having breakfast, but I’ll let her speak to you. Arriving at the table, he held out the phone. Your mom.

Lilian sighed. I bet I know what she wants. Taking it, she said, Hi, Mama. Immediately the tolerant nod and tone of voice began. Yes, Mama, I’m fine. … I’m safe, too. Glenda is a good roommate. … Yeah, she takes good care …

Having taken her seat again to continue eating, Glenda watched her roll her eyes.

Yes, Mama. … No, Mama, nothing like … Mama, I’m fine. Really. I like Rapid City. … Of course I’ll visit you sometime. Maybe Thanksgiving.

As usual, it was clear Lilian wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

Yes … yes … fine … Yes, Mama, everything’s fine. … No, nothing to worry about. … Yes, she feeds me well, too. … No, no, you don’t have to come out here. … No, Mama, you don’t have to check … I’m fine, Mama. No, really.

Glenda could guess what Aunt Minnie was saying. If she were merely worried about her daughter, it would be one thing, but Minnie and several in the family went a few steps further. They wanted to do everything for her since the fire, as though Lilian were a China doll to be coddled with care. As though the fire were so traumatic she could never recover from it. Maybe the children’s loss had something to do with it. At any rate, Glenda knew Lilian was a tough lady, but she felt her family’s attitude was one reason Lilian still had nightmares after five years.

Goodbye, Mama. … Really, I’m fine. … Goodbye. … ’Bye. She closed the phone. Even from two hundred miles away, she still harasses me.

She cares about you.

Yeah, too much! She’s so deathly afraid Humpty Dumpty will have a great fall. Well, if I do have a great fall after summer’s over, it’ll be because I got away from her constant nagging.

Glenda giggled. I know what you mean.

Thoughtfully Lilian ate some more eggs and bacon, and chewed a couple of bites of toast. Maybe you’re right, Glen. I should get a real job, then I could help you with the bills. I’ve been out of the workforce far too long.

That’s the spirit!

What’s Frank’s sister’s name? You have her number?

Her name is Melody, and I think I have her card. Just a minute.

She rose to find her purse. Shortly afterwards, she handed Lilian the business card and let her read it.

Melody Harrison. Nice name. And she works with deaf people?

She works with all kinds of handicapped people, but her vocation is mainly with the deaf and hard of hearing. In fact, Frank tells me there’s this one deaf guy she hangs around with a lot.

Looking over the card, Lilian smirked. You gettin’ a little sweet on Frank, huh? Enough to drum up business for his sister?

Glenda’s brow creased with her frown, and she gazed straight into the yolky mess on her plate. Frank and I are just friends. That’s all.

He’s a hunk. I think you should get more serious about going out with him.

I can’t go steady with any man, and I told you why. Every time I start to get serious, he up and dies on me. It’s been that way for the past year and a half. I lost three boyfriends, and I don’t want Frank to be number four.

I know what you told me, but it’s so hard to believe. Three men, dying in accidents soon after you start dating them? One, I can understand. Maybe two. But three? I think something else is going on.

What could be going on? I got a curse from somewhere. I’m a jinx. Anyway, what’s so wrong about being just friends? Men and women all over the world are friends, even best buds, without ever getting romantic. Melody says the same thing about the deaf guy she pals with. There’s nothing romantic in it, they just enjoy each other’s company.

Shaking her head, Lilian finished the last of her toast, chasing it with milk. I’m surprised you believe in jinxes. I still think something else is going on.

Maybe. But I’m not taking the chance with Frank. Glenda sopped up the last of her egg yolk with the toast. I guess we both have our nightmares to work on.

Chapter 2

Princess Diane

Wesley Dixon slumped in his chair, feeling like a little boy sent to the principal’s office. At the other end of the row of ergonomic seats, Diane sat erect, deliberately ignoring his presence; she hadn’t even acknowledged him when he arrived. Her hair hung in waves halfway to her shoulders, and her smooth face, while attractive to him when she was younger, showed frumpy lines and more than a few stress marks. The becoming dress she wore, featuring abstract blue and green designs, had a darker blue vest over it with silver sequins, and it hung open.

Too bad her outfit doesn’t reflect her personality, thought Wesley grumpily.

The more he thought about it, the more Wesley was convinced this session would be a waste of time. He was supposed to be learning detective work, able to solve crimes and bring crooks to justice. Then why must he squander precious hours, coming to the pastor’s office to talk about his marriage? Surely anyone could see the relationship was already totaled. Perhaps he should start afresh, try marriage with a different woman. Someone like the receptionist over there, busy at her computer.

Dixon, said another woman at the door.

Wesley knew she was the pastor’s wife, so tall and poised like a model or a professional dancer, but with a longish face and an oversized smile. Her styled chestnut waves left tendrils dangling in front of her ears, complemented by small silver earrings that copied their shape.

Both Wes and Diane stood, but with a halfhearted arm gesture he let her go first. She glanced at him, then lifted her face in her haughty way and entered the office. By the time Wes came in, she was sitting at the far corner of the desk, and the woman gestured him toward a chair at the near corner. She moved behind the desk next to her husband’s leather chair, and sat in a smaller one similar to Wes’ own.

The pastor looked as though he recently graduated college, with his nicely coifed tan hair and youthful face, with only a few stress lines. But he also had a ready smile, and from the moment he spoke, Wes could tell he had the knowledge to at least try and help. Wes, however, held firm to his belief that his marriage was beyond hope.

Mr. and Mrs. Dixon? he said, nodding to each combatant. My name is Bradley Chambers, and this is my wife Marjorie, or Marj for short. We’ve both had training in marriage counseling, so if you don’t object, she will be sitting in as well.

He paused, as though to take any objections. Her presence was all right with Wes. It wasn’t as though Marj could do any more for them than her husband.

When no response came, the pastor said, Your first name is Wesley, isn’t it?

Wes, please.

Very well, Wes. And you are Diane.

With the tiniest hint of a smile, she nodded.

You are here because Pierce Rosendahl believes your marriage is in trouble, and he would like to see it mend. It’s a desire he shares with Marj and me, and with God our Creator. So what seems to be the problem? Who wants to start?

Naturally Diane did, in the screechy voice that belied her attractive dress. He’s nothin’ but a no-good, worthless bum! He’s out at all hours of the night, can’t spend even one night with his loving wife. Why can’t he be more like the other husbands my friends have? Why does he have to go carousing with his buddies every night?

Is that what you do, Wesley? asked Pastor Brad.

No, he said with annoyance. She’s exaggerating …

I am not neither exaggerating! That’s what you do every night, and you know it. Why can’t you spend one decent night at home with your loving wife?

Her consistent claim to be his loving wife brought a sense of concern to the pastors’ faces. Please, Diane, he said calmly. If we’re going to get anywhere, let him speak, too. Without interruption. Okay?

With a humph, she crossed her arms and her iron-chiseled face looked away from both Wesley and the pastoral couple.

"If I have to spend the night out, I don’t always spend it with buddies … and we’re certainly not carousing! The last phrase his loud voice aimed at his wife. There are times when I’m on a stakeout, or pulling a late shift …"

You haven’t been a cop for more than five years, said Diane with rancor, her banshee voice berating him. And to top it off, when you did go back to work, you wrecked my car. My beautiful car!

I couldn’t help it! This Land Rover was chasing me …

Hah! Likely story. You always said it was too cramped. You don’t care about me at all, do you? Me, your loving wife!

Brad held out his palms to try and calm Diane down. Marj stood and passed behind her husband’s chair to take her quaking shoulders. Shh-shh-shh. Diane, please … settle down. She squeezed them.

We know what happened to your car, said Brad, and the detective agency did replace it for you. But the car is not the real issue here, is it? Your troubles started long before the wreck.

You got that right! said Wesley triumphantly.

If he wasn’t such a no-good lazy bum to begin with, the wreck would never have happened. Mama warned me about him. She said he was shiftless from the start. But did I listen to her? No! I just had to marry the shiftless bum.

Brad gave a single nod to Marj, like a secret signal between them. Gently she pulled Diane out of the chair. Come on, let’s wait outside for a minute.

"Don’t tell me you’re on his side, the no-good stinkin’ bum."

We’re not on anyone’s side. We need to talk to Wes alone for a minute. Okay? Then we’ll talk to you alone. We want to hear both sides fairly. Sound good?

Diane resisted her guidance toward the anteroom. And you’re sure you’ll listen to everything I have to say?

Absolutely, said Marj with a gentle nod. Just wait a few moments, and we’ll bring you in to hear your side.

Though she was still clearly reticent, Diane allowed herself to be ushered out of the pastor’s office. But on her way out, she cried, "Don’t tell them any more of your no-good stinkin’ lies. Tell the truth for once in your poor, miserable life!"

The door closed on her tirade, and Wesley heard Marj’s muted voice tell the receptionist, Mrs. Dixon will be waiting out here for awhile, Suzy.

Yes, ma’am, he heard Suzy say.

Wesley heaved a huge sigh. Now you see what I’ve had to put up with?

Although Marj returned to sit beside her husband, all of Wesley’s attention focused on the pastor. Okay, so I haven’t been the most perfect husband in the world. Who has been? Except maybe you, of course. You two seem to have a great marriage.

It didn’t happen by accident, Wes, said Brad frankly.

"Well … I know. But surely I deserve a lot better than that!" He thrust a hand toward the door.

Have you been running around on her, Wesley? asked Brad.

Wouldn’t you, if you were married to her?

No blame shifting, please. Answer my question. Have you been running around on Diane?

Frowning, Wes’ gaze turned into his lap, heaving a reluctant sigh. I dunno. Once or twice, maybe.

Only once or twice?

Something in his tone suggested the challenge did not come with judgment. Part of Wesley wanted to insist his own evaluation was true, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. Okay, more than twice. You want an exact number?

Brad smiled knowingly. That won’t be necessary. What did you do during your nights out?

Wes offered a minor shrug. Mostly … spent time with male friends.

And what did you do with these … male friends?

Hang out. Have a beer. Go to a club. But it’s not carousing!

Sitting back in his chair, Brad pressed his palms together. How would you define ‘carousing’?

"Going around town in a car, in a drunken spree. I’ve never done that. I don’t know what she