Twist of Fate

TWIST OF FATE

Copyright © 2012, 2017 by Sandy James

E-book ISBN: 978-1-940295-16-9

First E-book Publication: January 2012

Second Publication: December 2017

Cover design by Dragonfly Press Design

www.dragonflypressdesign.com

Book design by Sandy James

Published by James Gang Publishing

Smashwords Edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

DEDICATION

I have been blessed with the best in-laws a person could ever have.

So…Janet and M.R.—this one is for you with much love.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

A beautiful thing is never perfect.

Proverb

Chapter One

He was in hell. No fire and brimstone like he’d expected, but hell nonetheless.

Six enormous yellow buses idled in front of Harry Truman High School. A couple hundred teenagers waited impatiently, walking on the tarmac, sitting on the benches, and text messaging each other on their cell phones. Between the churning motors of the buses, the high-pitched squealing of the girls, and the incessant yelling of the teachers, the noise level was unbearable.

For the first time, James wondered if his wife’s job wasn’t all that easy after all. Perhaps even teachers had hectic days, although they also had three whole damn months in the summer to get over them. Susan always got a summer break; the last vacation he’d taken was over five years ago.

Why he’d volunteered to chaperone this ridiculous field trip was still beyond him. Susan had obviously caught him in a weak moment. Then he saw his son, John—all six feet three inches of him and still growing. James would never understand how a man who had grown just a smidgen over six feet and a woman who was only five four had produced such a giant. Seeing John reminded James why he was there—to devote some quality time to his son.

He also had to admit the rest of the truth. Tired of the emotional distance between them, he really wanted to spend time with his wife.

Hi, Dad. John came to stand at James’s side. John’s two shadows followed right behind.

Jeff. Eric. James nodded toward his son’s friends. They didn’t exactly look thrilled about the trip, either, standing there with their hands in their pockets, kicking at the little rocks on the pavement. Since when did jeans buckle around guys’ thighs instead of their waists?

So are you sorry you came yet? John asked.

Hell, yes. Teenagers wear me out! James gave a faux-casual shrug. Your mom said she needed some chaperones. Dredging up some enthusiasm, he cuffed his son’s shoulder. No, I’m not sorry. Maybe this’ll be fun.

Doubt it, John grumbled. It’s just a stupid history museum.

Susan came striding over with her clipboard, busily checking off a few more names. Thirty-nine years old, but she still had the energy of a teenager, probably because she spent so much time with them. All here. John, you and the guys need to get on the second bus. We’re getting ready to leave. She crooked her finger. James, wanna come with me?

Depends.

She arched an eyebrow, her beautiful brown eyes full of curiosity and some poorly guarded skepticism.

Maybe he would coax a small smile if he baited her. As if he could ever resist. I’ll come, but only if you’re heading someplace other than the museum. Maybe we could hit a Hooters. He inclined his head toward the crowd. They’d probably like that more anyway. At least the guys would.

Susan frowned at him, running her fingers through her short, brown hair as she always did when she got good and riled. God, he used to love to tease her back in the day when she gave as good as she got. He hated that she didn’t warm to his joking anymore. You don’t have to go. Her words were clipped and stern. I’m not about to beg. Head on home if you want. Or go to Hooters and ogle the waitresses.

No matter how bad things had become between them, he’d made a promise to do this field trip. He’d never broken a promise to his wife and didn’t plan on starting now. Like you’d let me do that. C’mon. Let’s go.

Susan pointed to the first bus. Please grab the front seat behind the driver for us so I can keep an eye on things. If any kids are in it, kick ’em out. I have to check with the other teachers before we leave. Once she was done bossing him around, she pulled a small walkie-talkie from her belt clip and started talking into it as she strode away.

The bus smelled every bit as disgusting as he’d remembered from his days in school. Worse, actually. The crowd had definitely changed. James had no idea kids could dye their hair so many different colors. The clothes weren’t too bad if you didn’t read the obscene little sayings printed on most of the t-shirts. All the jeans had holes scattered from waist to ankles as if they’d been put there on purpose. Who would pay good money for jeans with rips in them? And what was with all the tattoos? Thank God, his own son and daughter seemed to be…normal.

Jesus, I feel old.

With a loud creak and groan, the doors closed behind Susan as she climbed the stairs and stood at the front of the bus. Listen up! Surprisingly, the noise level dropped to a hush.

Impressive. The kids respected her. He’d never really thought about that before, never pondered how many kids she saw on a daily basis and whether they looked at her the way he’d looked at his teachers. He knew Susan’s students liked her. Anytime they went out—the mall, a restaurant, a movie—some kid always came to talk to her. When they saw her from across the way and waved, they always used all their fingers. What wasn’t to like? She had a razor sharp wit.

After a short, well-rehearsed speech about what she expected regarding student behavior, Susan moved to take a seat behind the driver. The bus lurched into motion before she was all the way down, and she had to grab on to James to keep from tumbling into the aisle. She ended up in his lap before she blushed and moved to sit next to him. The smell of her White Shoulders perfume hung between them, making him wonder if she’d let him make love to her that night. Ever since they’d lost the baby, she’d seemed…cold. Distant.

Losing their child had been hard on his wife, but James had tried to console Susan by swallowing his own crippling grief and being pragmatic. Trying to give her something tangible to hold on to, he pointed out they really didn’t need another baby at this time in their lives. They should be heading for the parenting finish line, not standing poised at the starting gate.

His words must have helped because she’d stopped shedding those tears that broke his heart. James felt the loss of that child just as deeply, but he needed to be strong for Susan. He never let her see the times he’d cried over what could have been.

Before long, he saw the Chicago skyline looming in the distance. He turned to Susan, trying to hear what she was saying above the din. Shit, why hadn’t these kids lost their hearing already with the volume they had slamming through their earbuds? Between the overly loud conversations, the blaring of what the students called music, and the sound of the traffic, James quickly developed a familiar tension headache. He massaged his forehead with his fingertips, praying for relief he knew wouldn’t come for several hours when the field trip ended.

Susan stopped trying to talk to him and reached into the bottomless treasure trove she called a purse. Somehow, she always found whatever it was he needed somewhere in that bag. Like a magician pulling a proverbial rabbit out of her hat. After fishing around for a minute, she produced a bottle of Excedrin, popped off the lid, and held it out to him. Seeing what his wife had to deal with on a daily basis, he knew why it was almost empty.

James spilled a couple of tablets onto his palm and handed the bottle back to his wife with a mouthed, Thank you. She smiled and nodded. He swallowed them without the benefit of water until Susan dug around in her purse again and then shoved a bottled water at him. The woman was better prepared than any Boy Scout. He took some comfort in the fact she still seemed to care for his needs.

The bus eased up to the main entrance of the American Historical Preservation Society’s enormous museum. Large banners touted the latest exhibit. The Wild West. One of the reasons he’d agreed to this ridiculous trip.

Remembering the westerns he’d watched his whole life, James hoped to spend some time sharing the exhibit with his son. John always watched the DVDs with his father, and since the museum boasted interactive exhibits, perhaps they could do some male bonding. Heaven knew his kids were growing up way too fast, and his fatherly opportunities would soon be gone. Their daughter, Lynne, would be heading to college come autumn. Another year of high school, then John would follow.

What would their nest be like once it was empty? Would he and Susan find a way to reconnect? Or would the cold that had descended on them the last year grow even chillier?

James? Susan’s gentle hand touched his shoulder. Headache better?

He lied with a nod and followed her off the bus.

* * *

Susan watched her husband find their son and join the small group of boys waiting to enter the museum. The typical scowl remained fixed on James’s face. What had she been thinking asking him to come on this field trip?

Because he loves the Wild West. The man owned every John Wayne and Clint Eastwood movie ever put on DVD. He’d said he wanted to spend more time with his kids, and it was an opportunity for the two of them to be together in neutral territory. She missed the connection she’d always had with James—the one that seemed to dwindle in the last few years of their twenty-year marriage.

Herding the students into the building, Susan stood in the enormous foyer, listening to buzzing voices echo through the cavernous area and waiting for the staff to start the tours. Watching James and John, she got lost in her own thoughts until a booming voice sounded behind her. You Miz Williams?

Susan jumped then put her hand over her racing heart as if that would slow the staccato rhythm. Jeez Louise, you scared the life outta me.

The old man smiled with a big toothy grin that immediately put her at ease. Dressed in a dark blue polo and khaki pants, he looked the part of tour guide. She could have sworn she’d seen him somewhere before. Church? A school basketball game? Maybe he was an old friend of her grandfather’s. He appeared to be about that age. Gray hair. Wrinkled face. The hand he reached out to shake hers was covered with age spots, but that smile and his warm touch seemed oddly comforting.

Didn’t mean to frighten you none. You Miz Williams?

Susan nodded before putting her hand on James’s arm. This is my husband, James.

The old man’s broad smile actually grew. Well, all righty then. Just the folks I was waitin’ to see. I’ll be your tour guide today. You wanna get your young’uns together and we’ll get a’goin’?

Susan put her fingers to her lips and whistled, loud and long. John led the rest of the group of twenty kids her way. She smiled, realizing she’d trained them well.

Her personal life might be a mess, but this she was good at.

The rest of the Truman High School students assembled into their groups and joined the other chaperones and tour guides. The old man led their small group across the terrazzo floor toward the exhibits.

Hiya, kids. I’m Harry. I’m here to show you folks all ’bout the Wild West. How many of you ever seen a John Wayne movie?

James and Susan raised their hands. John reluctantly followed suit, but a few chuckles forced him to awkwardly shove his hand in his pocket.

Harry breathed a long sigh and shook his head. Kids nowadays. Why, it’s a dirty rotten shame if you ask me. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout their own culture. Another shake of his head before his face fixed in a stern expression. Well, I guess my job’s to teach you ’bout the only thing that’s truly American, the only thing we didn’t borrow from some other country or some other culture. With a sweeping gesture of his arm, he invited them to head toward the interactive exhibits. Welcome to the Wild West.

The first place Harry led them was to a re-creation of a sheriff’s office. The place smelled of fresh-cut wood. A single jail cell held a bunk covered with a rough, gray blanket. An authentic chamber pot rested on the floor under the bed. Sitting right outside the cell was a rustic desk. A rack of fake shotguns hung on the wall.

This here would be where you’d stay if you drank a bit too much whiskey in the saloon. Harry nodded toward the cell. I reckon a few bandits spent time in a place like this too. There were some scary guys hangin’ ’round them parts. Fingers gnarled by arthritis pointed out some weathered Wanted flyers displayed behind protective glass on the wall. You should all take a good, long look. See if you might be able to collect a reward for findin’ one of them varmints.

Susan crossed her arms under her breasts, leaned a hip against the desk, and watched her husband and son. Gathered with most of the students in the group, the two of them were pointing at the posters and laughing loud enough she was almost embarrassed to be with them. About to scold the group, especially James and John, she finally saw what had amused them so much.

One of the posters offered a reward for information on the whereabouts of Big Jim Williams. Susan stepped closer to read it, squinting to focus because she refused to wear her new bifocals in public—like she needed a constant reminder of the rapid approach of middle age.

The man on the poster wasn’t necessarily a criminal, but he evidently had information in the disappearance of a woman from a town called River Bend. The reward was to be given if the woman could be located. Susan smiled when she saw the sketched portrait. No wonder they were laughing. The damned thing sure looked an awful lot like James. Together with the similar name, Susan couldn’t help but laugh herself. Gee, James. Were you out kidnapping women in a previous life?

He actually smiled at her, something he didn’t do very often anymore.

So who was she, Dad? John slapped his father between the shoulder blades. Does Mom know about this other woman? This time he winked.

Harry stepped up to stare at the poster. First he squinted, and then he lifted his wire-rimmed glasses to his forehead and leaned in closer. Putting his glasses back in place, he turned and gaped intently at James for a moment before he grinned broad enough Susan caught a glimpse of a gold crown. Why, I’d say that’s a pretty good renderin’, if you ask me. Got the eyes just right.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God’s sake. That’s not me. I may be old, but I’m not that old." He looked over at Susan, and she smiled at him. From the exasperation in his expression, he might as well have been spinning his finger around in a little circle next to his head like he thought Harry was crazy.

The intrepid group wandered through the museum, taking in the interactive exhibits. One was an old one-room schoolhouse. Another had the students sitting on a fake bronco and posing for a souvenir picture. Plenty to keep a group of caffeine-juiced kids busy.

By the time noon rolled around, Susan’s feet ached, her voice was hoarse, and she’d begun counting the minutes until they could herd all the teens back on the buses. Tonight she’d be sitting in an easy chair, sipping a wine cooler or two, and reading one of her favorite romance novels. James would probably fall asleep in front of some televised sporting event.

Par for the course.

Her own silly pun made her smile.

We’ve got one more really important thing to see, Harry said. Then we’ll grab some vittles.

Vittles? The guy was certainly laying the whole Wild West thing on pretty thick. With a sigh, she moved behind the kids as they followed the guide.

How much longer? James asked as he fell into step beside her.

Not much. We’ve got lunch, then we’re going to the third floor to look at the sports history exhibit. You’ll like it. It’s got all kinds of great stuff. Basketball uniforms. An Indy 500 car.

He just grumbled. As usual.

Gather ’round, gather ’round, Harry said as he took a position behind an enormous boulder and waved everyone closer. The rock stood waist high and sprawled out over an area about as wide and long as a parking space. Gather ’round so I can tell you all ’bout the people of River Bend and the Stone of Destiny.

A rock, Mom? John rolled his eyes. "We’re looking at a rock?"

Susan was about to scold him when James beat her to the reprimand. Would you prefer looking at an algebra assignment?

Point taken. John turned back to Harry. Sorry. Tell us about your rock. Susan leveled a hard stare at her son. He quickly added, Please.

About to thank her husband for his help, Susan turned to see him rolling his eyes, looking so much like his son that she had a quick flash of déjà vu, back to the day James had taught their son to play baseball. They’d both had on Cubs caps, and with her son’s wavy brown hair peeking out from under the bill, he’d looked like a miniature version of his father. Her heart tightened as she wished the rock really did have special powers and could blast her back to those sweet days.

A rock, James whispered, leaning in close enough she felt the heat of his breath against her neck. It was the closest thing to foreplay she’d enjoyed in a long time.

Sex had become more of a biological function than an expression of love. A wave of longing raced through her. When had things between them turned so sour? She grew so upset that she had to concentrate hard to even understand the rest of his words. We’re hearing about a rock, Suz. I thought it was only something for people to sit on when they got tired.

Suz. She almost burst into tears, swallowing hard a few times to maintain any kind of control. How long had it been since he’d used that endearment?

See the markings? She pointed at the art covering the stone. The silly thing looked like some ancient person had practiced cave drawings on it, covering it with complicated symbols. They didn’t resemble any language Susan had ever seen.

It’s graffiti, he replied.

All of the melancholy she’d been feeling vanished at his know-it-all tone. It’s not graffiti.

How do you know?

Susan frowned. I just do.

He folded his arms over his chest. Oh, I forgot. You’re a teacher so you’re smarter than everyone else in the whole friggin’ world.

I never said that. God, he was picking a fight. Again. Right here in front of everyone. Couldn’t he ever just listen to her? He always had to be right. He always had to get in the last word. Always,

You might not have said it, but you implied the hell out of it.

She tried to stare him down. As though that had ever worked before. Not here.

He glared right back at her.

Folks? Harry said. Got a problem I can help with?

Susan felt a flush spread over her cheeks when she realized she and James had been keeping the kids from listening to the guide’s story. Sorry, she said loud enough for even an old guy like Harry to catch. We’ll behave and be quiet.

The students’ twittering laughter made her face warmer. Suddenly, she sorely regretted asking her husband to come along.

People ’round River Bend called this the Stone of Destiny ’cause it could lead people to find what they really needed in life, even if they didn’t rightly know what that was. He patted the stone. Not sure where the markings come from. Most folks said they was always there. His voice quieted and took on an eerie tone. Some say the angels wrote ’em. Some say the devil himself marked the stone. Some say the people who disappeared left ’em behind.

Disappeared? one girl asked. "People disappeared around this rock?"

Ayah. Harry gave the stone a loud slap. This very rock. And people appeared, too. Coming and going and never knowing why. Just a destiny thing, I s’pose.

Gee, Susan, James whispered, although he grew louder with each word that fell from his lips. Don’t you want to touch the stone and find your destiny?

Susan let her temper get the better of her. You think I don’t know my destiny? she whispered back, knowing James could hear but hoping the others couldn’t. I have two kids and a husband. I’ll be cooking, cleaning, and taking care of all of you until they leave me behind. I’ll have to teach until I’m sixty-five, then the boss will hand me a gold plaque and show me the door. My boring destiny’s set, rock or no stupid rock. My dreary life’s already laid out, and it’s not a pretty picture.

Good God, where had that come from? There were students nearby for pity’s sake, and she was whining about her personal life.

"Yeah? Well, let me tell you something, babe. My life is pretty well etched in stone too. He snorted. If you’ll forgive the pun. You know, I’ll be forty next week. Freakin’ forty, and it’s all downhill from there. James nodded at the boulder. Maybe the ‘Stone of Destiny’ can give me something to look forward to—something good to look forward to."

He might as well have slapped her. It would’ve hurt less. You think empty nest is gonna be a blast for me, James? Once Lynne and John are gone, who will I have? Who will care about me? She waited for him to say something kind and comforting. Something about how they would always have each other. Something about how much he still cared for her. But he just stood there in that infuriatingly stoic way of his. Damn, but she wanted kick him. Hard.

Well? she prodded, loud enough he actually flinched.

Then he shook his stubborn head.

Tears sprang in her eyes and started to spill over her lashes. You can be such a horse’s ass. You know that?

His exaggerated shrug almost pushed her over the edge. I guess that’s the kind of thing that kept me from getting a really good wife.

That god-awful dry sense of humor.

Opening her mouth, she formed a sarcastic retort before realizing the kids might have been listening. Thank the Lord, they were enraptured by the guide’s story and not paying any attention to the old folks squabbling in the background.

Harry favored Susan with a toothy grin she now realized held wisdom behind it. C’mon up here, Miz Williams, Mister Williams. His hand beckoned, calling them to where he stood. You come touch the stone. You come find your destiny.

Susan figured she owed him a little bit of cooperation. Not that she believed a word of the legend nonsense. Reaching for James’s hand, she dragged him with her toward the stone. James, please.

He threw her a heavy sigh before he complied.

That’s it, Harry said. Come on up here, folks. Come touch the stone.

James withdrew his hand from Susan’s and circled to the opposite side of the boulder. He leveled a hard stare at her, one that piqued her already bad mood. Before she could say a word, a noise startled her.

A hum.

It started out as an annoying drone, like radio static or a swarm of cicadas. The sound quickly scattered her thoughts, sending them tumbling like autumn leaves on a windy day. Steadily increasing in volume, the noise whirled and twirled in her head. Then suddenly, there were voices.

"Your destiny," they whispered as a chorus in her mind. Find your destiny.

Shit. I’ve gone schizophrenic, right here in the middle of the stupid history museum. A history teacher’s version of a nervous breakdown.

The whispers became louder.

"Come with us. Come to us."

Squeezing her eyes shut, her hands flew to her ears as the sounds drowned out everything around her.

"Now! Come to us now!"

Susan didn’t want to listen to the frightening voices. Where was James? She needed James.

She opened her eyes, searching desperately for her husband. The museum had vanished. There was nothing but her and James and the damned boulder, all bathed in a nearly blinding white light. Wind started to whip around them, ruffling her hair and clothes and knocking her purse from her shoulder. She let the heavy thing drop to the floor without a fight. Wind, hell, it was a hurricane.

In the middle of the museum?

Her eyes wouldn’t focus well, but she could see the hazy shape of James reaching out for her. Make it stop, James. Please.

Susan! His voice barely rose above the eerie voices and the sound of the wind. His hand was there, just out of her reach.

She stretched out her arm, trying to grasp him.

Take my hand, babe!

Suddenly Harry was there, standing between them. It’s time. He grabbed both of their hands and then slapped their palms against the rock.