An Unexpected Reaction

I let them sweat before I gave them my proposal.

"I'll forgo legal recourse for certain considerations. First, my wife is never to know of this meeting. Second, reprimand her, demote her, do whatever you want except fire her. I need her to have a job during the divorce. Do what you want with the asshole, but in my opinion, this doesn't seem like the first time to me. What if it had been a major donor or the wife or daughter of one? In my opinion, he's a disaster waiting to happen. There again, an opinion, do what you want. Agreed? Good. Of course, we can't write this up, but I've taped this conversation. Here."

I pulled out the recorder and gave them the tape. I neglected to mention the other recorder still going.

"Now, if I make trouble for you, you can play the tape. And one more thing. You have a volunteer, Cindy Waller. She helped my wife conduct her affair and covered for her. It might be good if she wasn't associated with you any longer."

They looked like bobble heads, shaking up and down in agreement.

She did get demoted, and put on probation, but she kept her job. Cindy was pissed when they told her it might be best if she volunteered for another organization, but she understood.

"I feel like Jace was behind it." She whined to Becky.

"What if he was? So what? I bet Allan would agree, if he would admit it. You're judged by the company you keep Cin. And right now I'm toxic.

They allowed Greg to resign, and he didn't get a letter of recommendation. I have no idea where he ended up, but he gave Becky a goodbye call.

"They canned me. Oh, it was polite, but I'm gone, with no recommendation. I guess this is goodbye."

She seemed sympathetic. "I'm sorry Greg. But we brought it on ourselves. At least you're not married."

There was silence for a second.

"Actually Beck, I am. She's in service, in a not so nice place right now. She rotates home in three months."

"You asshole! How could you do that to her? At least Jace is home, out of danger."

"I agree. I am an asshole. But I was lonely, horny, and you were agreeable. I'm sorry about all this. You're not gonna tell her, are you?"

"No. I have no way of contacting her, but even if I did, she doesn't deserve what I'm going through. Love her hard when she gets back, and don't EVER repeat this mistake."

"I promise. I'm so sorry how it all turned out. I hope you get him back. You're a hell of a woman, Becky. Goodbye."

She cried into the phone for several seconds before hanging up. I thought about trying to contact his wife, but in the end I didn't. She probably needed to know, but if he ran true to type she'd find out soon enough.

...

Kathy got in contact with Becky, and she jumped all over the chance to talk to me. At her suggestion, she went to three sessions alone first. I think Kathy was trying to prepare her, but she was too stubborn to see it.

The big night finally came. The first session. I figured she would try to ambush me, so I made it a point to be there thirty minutes early. Becky was really surprised when Kathy collected her from the waiting room and found me already there.

"Jace!" she cried, trying to hug me. Kathy imposed herself between us.

"Becky, for this to work, you have to give him his space. He's already made it clear he doesn't want any physical contact. If you don't follow the rules I've laid out, he'll leave, and he won't come back. Understand?"

It took her a few minutes, but she gathered herself and sat down at the table.

"Becky, listen to me. I know you have things you want to say, and so does Jace. Remember, be calm, be clear, and avoid dramatics. Would you like to go first?"

She nodded, and we waited.

"First, I need to apologize, Jace. I know what I did was wrong. You have every right to be angry.

I have no excuse. I'm not even sure now why I did it. Was it worth the pain I've been going through? No way in hell. Would I ever be that stupid again? Not for anything."

"But Kathy has explained to me that being sorry and apologizing won't change a thing if you can't forgive me. I know I fucked up and destroyed a good marriage. What I need to do now is convince you to give me another chance. Will you promise to talk to me? If after we finish these sessions and still can't forgive me, I'll walk away and not fight the divorce."

I looked between her and Kathy. I could see her hand in this. Maybe those individual sessions had helped after all.

I spoke, she was obviously waiting for me to say something.

"I know that speech took a lot out of you, Beck. I was thinking about it for the last few days. We've known five couples over the years who've split up over cheating that have gone to counseling to try to save their marriage. How many made it? I checked, one. Gary and Sherrie.

And they don't cuddle in public, the little touches they used to give each other all the time, gone. It's been two years, and they're still not back yet. Could you live like that? Knowing I'd always suspect you if you were gone, even for an hour or two? If I automatically tried to verify everything you told me? Snooped in your purse, checked your computer and cell phone on a regular basis? I couldn't."

She was flinching at my words like each was a physical blow, but kept a determined look on her face.

"If I got to cuddle with you every night in bed I could. I'd do anything and everything I could to reassure you, to show you I've changed, and you could trust me again."

I threw up my hands.

"Ah! There it is, another of the magic words, trust. Exactly how would you get me to trust you again? You went out when we were dating, lying about it when we hadn't even made a commitment yet. I should have seen it then. Now, years later, after being together for all this time, planning a family, a future, you do it again. Were you lonely this time too? Bored because I was out trying to build a business and a better future for us and didn't have time to go to dance clubs or out on the town?"

I was finally letting go of some of the poison, and it felt good. Becky was looking horrified. Kathy stepped in.

"Our time is up. I want you to do some homework for me before our next meeting. Becky, I want you to think about what Jace said. Tell him in detail how you plan to get him to trust you. Jace, I need you to think about it too. Do you think you can get over your rage and try to rebuild a relationship with Becky? Be honest and clear. That's all until next week. Jace, could I see you for just a second before you leave? Goodnight, Becky."

We stood and watched as she went to her car, sitting there for five minutes before pulling out. Kathy looked at me.

"You're absolutely never taking her back, are you?"

"No," I said, sadly.

She sighed. "I didn't think so. We need to refocus the sessions, get her used to the idea, let her down slowly. If you have any love left for her, break it to her gently."

...

Gently didn't work. We tried, Kathy and I, but she just refused to give up. I tried every way I could think of, and some from Kathy, but I never got her to understand. In the end I just stopped it.

"You broke your most solemn vow, Beck. Made it look easy. Even now, I know you regret what came of it, but deep down I get the feeling you can't see what you did as serious. Where I considered it life altering, you liken it to spending too much money, wrecking the car, something along those lines. Didn't you feel anything when you did it?"

She didn't give me a direct answer as usual.

"Talk about feelings! You're the one turned to stone! Give me one more chance, please? How can you sit there with no emotion while I fall to pieces?"

"You still don't get it, do you? There's plenty of emotion inside me. It's emotion, not intelligence, that makes us human. All animals think at some level, but who besides humans feel love, hate, desire? Not any other specie. I've just gotten better at controlling them."

I let her talk another thirty minutes before I held up my hand, rising.

"It's over Beck. Accept it and move on. Understand I still love you, but it isn't enough anymore. The divorce is final in four weeks. It's best for both of us. You're still a young, beautiful woman. You'll find someone else. When you do, if you ever get tempted, think of us. He will deserve your best."

I walked out, my heart breaking all over again as I heard her wail.

Kathy called me two days later.

"I just finished a session with Becky. You know I can't tell you what we talked about, but she still thinks she can win you back. Watch for her, I know she'll be around, and I'm worried. I'm really sorry it ended this way. I think you should continue seeing me, for a while. Shall we make an appointment?"

I thought about it.

"Not right now. I'll call you in a month or so. Thanks for everything, Kathy."

...

Kathy was right. She had one last hurrah before she gave up.

I loved all of her family except her oldest brother. He was a cop, a shift commander. He was also arrogant and a bully. We tolerated each other, just. He'd taken to pulling me over regularly, just to mess with me and demand I forgive his sister. I talked to Paul, he had me log the next four stops, and the good commander found himself explaining his interest in me to the assistant chief. The stops halted, and it didn't make him like me more.

It was two weeks before the final hearing. The sun was shining, spring was in the air, and I was feeling happy for the first time in a long while.

The Yamaha was humming right along that Saturday morning when the lights came on behind me. I pulled over.

I was getting my license out, not looking at him, when he tasered me, put me in cuffs and threw me in the back of his car. I had just come around when he stopped at a nearby park, hauled me out while I ranted, and handcuffed me to a bench. Then he took the original cuffs off and used them to hook Becky to me.

"You'll listen now, motherfucker. I'll be back in forty five minutes, and I better see smiling faces."

Becky babbled while I tried to clear my head, apologizing for what was happening.

"Can we talk now, baby?"

I looked at her trying to find the woman I'd married in her eyes. She wasn't there.

"Like I have a choice," I said, smiling. "Just hand me my phone. I had someone waiting on me, then I'll be all ears, okay?"

She got my phone out and handed it to me. I dialed 911.

"911, state your emergency."

"This is J.C. Gooding. I'm in Armstrong Park, the bench on the south side near the gazebo, and I've been kidnapped and handcuffed to the bench and another person. I repeat, I've been kidnapped."

Becky was looking horrified, trying to wrestle the phone out of my hand. She was screaming.

There was a lot of people in the park, and some were coming over.

"Sir, a car has been dispatched. Do you know your abductors?"

"Shift Commander Jeff Sterling. I'm handcuffed to his sister. Help!"

The car must have been in the neighborhood, he was there in less than two minutes. Becky was still screaming while he tried to remove the cuffs. Her brother came roaring up, sliding across the grass and scattering onlookers.

"I got this, patrolman."

He wavered, looking at me.

"If you leave me in his custody, it makes you an accomplice. Jail time maybe, loss of career definitely. Call someone higher up the food chain."

He made the call, and soon six cop cars surrounded us. Nobody was arrested, pending investigation, and I was taken back to my bike.

The shit hit the fan the next day. Dumbass had everything on dash cam. Me stopping, him with the taser and cuffs, the whole thing until he stuffed me into the car.

I could have pressed charges. Assault, kidnapping, unlawful use of a police vehicle, the list went on. Becky would be charged as an accomplice. I had Paul with me when we met the DA to discuss the incident.

"My client will make this easy for everyone. He won't press charges IF the officer is disciplined in house, and his wife agrees not to appear at their final divorce hearing, and ceases all contact with him. Your choice and theirs, but if they decide not to take the deal I'll go after them hard, understand?"

They had no choice. Their parents didn't want to see two of their three children through bars, so the deal was accepted.

Her brother didn't get off without pain. He was demoted, assigned the graveyard shift, reprimanded. His chances of promotions again were miniscule. He couldn't quit because no other agency would touch him.

...

So it was finally over. I went back to my successful business and found a hot young blonde with big boobs who loved me for my tender heart and convinced me there was still sweetness and light in the world.

Actually, I lost my friends, my business, and my wife.

It was a while before I even looked at another woman. My business tanked because everyone knew the situation we were in and didn't give us any more contracts. Luckily Aida got the offer she deserved, and took her trainee with her. Ben quit soon after.

The next month I walked into the office. There was a note on the door.

"You win, you bastard. Allan found another job, the paperwork is on you desk. Sign it and the company is official dissolved."

She didn't sign it, but I recognized Cindy's writing.

There was actually a little money left, and after I got my half of the house sale, I was in pretty good shape. I could even take the next year off if I wanted. I took two months, got on the Road Star, and went rambling

I ended up three states down, well below the Mason Dixon line. It was one of the prettiest cities I'd ever seen, surrounded by mountains, with friendly people and a relaxed atmosphere. It kind of felt like I'd landed in the sixties because the people all seemed so laid back. I stayed three days, hitting tourist traps, doing research.

I checked out a few more towns but none had the same vibe, so I came back, got a room for a week, and went house hunting. I looked at some condos and apartments, but I'd become partial to houses with decent yards. I found what I wanted, the third I looked at. A small cottage, twelve hundred square feet, two bedroom, with a huge yard and a stream running across the back. It was set apart a good distance from the nearest neighbor. I leased for a year with an option to buy.

Next I went job hunting, finding one at a small firm that catered to up and coming and midsized companies. They gave me a few small accounts to see how good I was. In six months the boss wanted to talk.

"Jace," I had to tell him, was not short for Jason. My name was actually John Charles, and I had been called J.C. up until my sister was about four. She pronounced it Jaysee, and then shortened it to Jace. It stuck, and I quit fighting it years ago.

In that peculiar Southern way, when the conversation was important, he used both my given names.

"John Charles, you've been doing very good work. So good I wondered why you were here. I checked up on what you put on your resume, and it was all true. I have a feeling you won't stay with us long, so I'm going to use you hard. I'm giving you a new account. He's a friend of mine who owns a very successful regional winery and wants to take his product national. Go talk to him, set up some meetings, and start thinking. This could be very good for all of us. And if I grow, I want you along."

I was flattered that he thought so highly of me.

The vintner was a local, who had trained and studied in Italy for six years, before coming home to take care of his aging parents. He took over their farm, and used the north facing slopes to grow vines he had imported from the region he trained in. He started out small, adding acreage and expanding the winery as he could. Now he leased three more farms and had doubled his own acreage. He'd won several local and regional medals for his sweet wines, and wanted to crack the national market. He had already secured a distributor, now he needed an ad campaign to bring his product into the limelight.

I stopped by, did an anonymous wine tasting. Most were quite good. Some I didn't care for. I finally introduced myself and asked for Mr. Edwards.

He came hustling in, in farm clothes. We shook and he asked me why I hadn't made an appointment.

"I wanted to taste your product, observe your operation, maybe work on some ideas. I don't expect you to drop everything to talk to me, just wanted you to know I stopped by, and make that appointment in person."

"What do you think of my wines?" He seemed anxious.

"I liked most of them, but then I'm no expert. But I liked then so much I bought a mixed case to take home."

While I was talking an idea was germinating. I couldn't wait to get back and start developing it.

It was not to be. Jack[he insisted on first names]had me follow him around for awhile, explaining the winery, the origin of the vines, everything he could think to tell me. I ended up spending three hours with him.

...

Personally, I spent my off time exploring the area, turning the Road Star loose on those winding mountain roads. I'd had a little work done that boosted power, and she could scoot if I opened her up.

I took some money and bought a well used but reliable four wheel drive truck, the winters could be quite snowy here. I kept my car, a little Dodge Dart. It was more than enough for a single person, and I'd bought the top of the line turbo package. It was supposed to do over one eighty, but I never got it over 110, and that was just twice. The car and the bike were garaged, and the truck stayed outside.

I was wandering around one Saturday afternoon when I ran across a little bar in the middle of nowhere. There were a few bikes out front. Mostly Harleys, but there was a Gold Wing, and a few crotch rockets, so I decided to stop for a beer.

The place kind of went quiet for a minute. They could tell I wasn't a local. I ordered my beer and looked the place over.

It was old, but clean and neat. The patrons seemed to all know each other, and the insults and the banter flowed easily. The bartender talked a little after he served the second round.

"It's been in my family for seventy years," he said, talking about the place, "we got a good reputation. No fights, nobody bothers anybody, especially a woman. That'll get you booted faster than anything."

I complimented him, knowing the value of a place you could relax, be it with a crowd of suits and dresses or jeans and short skirts. People were people, basically the same despite income levels.

He liked the praise, said the next round was on him, and left me. A huge, bearded guy took the stool next to me.

"Yours?" he said, looking through the window at my bike.

"Yeah."

He snorted. "Another fucking rice grinder, what happened, they don't sell real bikes made in America where you come from?"

He was grinning when he said it to take the sting out.

"Which one is yours?" I asked. He pointed at an older, chopped out Harley.

"Nice ride." I grinned. "The forks are from Italy, the carbs, if they're stock, came from Japan. The tires, again if they're stock, were made by a British firm, manufactured in France. Still think it's all American?"

He stared at me. "No shit?"

I nodded. "No shit. Still nice bikes, though."

After that half the bar was in on the discussion. One guy said his Vulcan was made right here in the U.S. We ended up going out to look at all of them. By the time we came back in I had a new set of friends.

...

I ended up hanging at the bar most weekends, going on poker runs, just riding in a group when the urge took us. They showed me a lot of places I would never had known existed.

I got my nickname three months later. I had been to see Jack Edwards about the campaign we were planning. I was hoping to get him to let him shoot a commercial in his tasting room.