3 comments/ 26642 views/ 4 favorites Darla's Dilemma By: ChazThain Darla's life was tumbling out of control. Oh, things were going well at work, but her personal life was a disaster. She had not had a date in a year and she was slipping into a doomed relationship with a married man. Not to mention her 18-year-old step-daughter, Emma, was acting more like 28. That is, a 28-year-old who was willful, immature and aggressively sexual. Darla was determined to change all that -- to end her unhealthy relationship and save Emma from herself. Her campaign had started two weeks ago when she grounded the girl for bad grades and breaking curfew. But Darla had to watch Emma constantly to keep her in the house. She felt like a prison guard. In fact, tonight she had taken a stand when she caught Emma trying to sneak out, dressed like Britney at her provocative worst. A screaming fight resulted. "Maybe you can go the rest of your life without being loved!" Emma shouted, "BUT I CAN'T!" Darla finally won the battle by virtue of her moral conviction -- and by screaming louder and longer. Defeated, Emma had thrown her purse across the kitchen and run upstairs crying to lock herself in her room. Emma had almost won the battle when she made a sneering comment about Blake Alewine. Blake worked in Darla's company, and they met while working on a joint project. Darla had blushed deeply when they were introduced. Blake's short curly hair, full lips and direct brown eyes somehow combined to hasten her breathing and weaken her knees. Blake soon realized the effect he had on Darla, and he obviously enjoyed teasing her into a state of arousal. He made excuses to drop by Darla's office and flirt suggestively until her skin flushed, her breathing quickened and she sat squeezing her thighs together. Once they rode the elevator to a meeting together and he stood so close she could feel his warmth all down her back, while his breath tickled her neck. Lately Blake had begun inventing reasons to drop by Darla's house on his way home from work. First it was to deliver some paperwork that really could have waited until the next day. Then it was one lame excuse after another. Once inside her door, Blake would quickly invade Darla's personal space, making her retreat until her back was to a wall or corner. Then he stood or sat very close and drawled suggestively (almost whispered) until she could stand it no longer. Then she would push him away and demand that he leave, which he did, laughing mischievously. He had never touched her though he was often so close she could feel his warmth and her skin became hyper-sensitive waiting for contact. She sometimes wondered why Blake hadn't touched her. The waiting was hard to bear even when she reminded herself that he was married, and letting him touch her would be a horrible mistake. Sometimes when he left, Darla would rush upstairs, jump into bed and madly squeeze a pillow between her legs, yearning for release. But she was the daughter of a fire-breathing Texas preacher, and felt it was wrong to satisfy herself. It didn't help that Darla had been celibate since her husband's departure more than three years before. He had gradually become obsessed with the idea of sailing around the world alone in his 36-foot cruiser. Then one day he simply packed, said goodbye and sailed away. He left her with a nice house, a meager income and his daughters from two previous marriages. Darla dealt with abandonment by focusing on her work. Taylor, 14, became shy and withdrawn. Her half-sister Emma coped by seeking attention from men -- any attention from any man. Darla had fended off a whole series of Emma's unsuitable boyfriends. Darla tried to be a good mother. She fretted and fussed over Taylor and sympathized with Emma's anger and need. But she couldn't help resenting the way Emma ignored Darla's problems -- acting as if her life were perfect. And Darla would not have been human if she had not envied the gifts that made Emma a magnet for men. She was a beautiful teen and would obviously be stunning when full-grown. Emma was at least two inches taller than Darla's 5-feet-5. And while Darla was resigned to having an average body, Emma's long legs, firm round ass and swelling tits drew men's eyes from a block away. Even Darla found herself affected by the girl's loveliness. She sometimes had stifle an urge to stroke Emma's flawless skin or caress her luxuriant hair. Darla called her own short mop "boring brunette," while the girl's long hair was a dramatic honey-blonde. Blake had met Emma several times at the house, of course. Most men were immediately smitten, but Blake only seemed amused at the girl's eagerness to be pursued. He had talked with her kindly, but briefly, then turned his attention back to Darla. Emma was both surprised and unsettled by the indifference of an attractive man. And her disquiet increased when she realized that Blake really did prefer her stepmother. No man had ever preferred her stepmother since Emma had blossomed at 14. So Emma sought Blake's attention whenever he visited, wearing revealing clothes and often hovering in his line of sight. But he ignored her efforts. Darla finished washing the dishes after her battle with Emma. It was too late for Blake to stop by, she thought, realizing uncomfortably that she both dreaded and eagerly awaited his visits. "Get ahold of yourself!" she thought. "Going any farther with Blake would be a disaster." She paused. "But it would be soooo good to get laid again!" she thought, hugging herself and feeling a flush rise in her face. She was startled out of her musing by the ringing of the doorbell. Heart pounding, she peered through the glass and saw Blake standing on the porch. She opened the door, but left the storm door between them. "Blake you can't come here anymore," she said with determination, though her mouth was a little dry. "Nothing is going to happen." He smiled sweetly and her heart gave a bound. She was suddenly aware of a growing warmth between her legs, and of her half-erect nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of her bra. "Please, Darla, just give me a few minutes and I'll be on my way. I just want to talk," he pleaded. Darla was silent, trying to fix her face in a disapproving stare. But instead she stepped helplessly aside as Blake opened the door and came in. In a few minutes he had done it again. He had backed her against a wall in the living room and was leaning so close she had to turn her head or they would have brushed noses. "You want me Darla," he whispered. "No. You need me. I have something you desperately need and I'm willing to give it to you. Now. Tonight." "No, Blake. That's not going to happen," she said calmly, avoiding his eyes. "It's wrong. You can talk all you want, but I won't give in." He leaned closer still and kissed her lightly on the ear. Inside she melted, while outwardly projecting icy indifference. She started to push him away, but he took one of her hands and slid it down to his crotch. She froze. It had been long -- so long -- since she had held a dick in her hand. Darla felt Blake's length and thickness and warmth and she quivered inside. A mental picture appeared in which she was sucking his thick shaft, making him groan, knowing he was about to fill her mouth. She had to get away quickly or she would lose control. But then his arm was around her shoulders, pulling her face against his chest. "You want it, Darla," Blake whispered. For a moment she struggled to break free, to take control, but her hand still held his hot dick and suddenly she knew she had lost. Her resistance vanished and she moaned and pressed hard against him. He grabbed a breast roughly and she gasped. "We can't!" she murmured urgently. "Taylor and Emma are upstairs!" He ignored her protest, crushing Darla's lips with a bruising kiss. Her head spun as Blake's tongue explored her mouth, caressing her tongue. She was quickly beyond caring about the girls, or anything but Blake's hands and mouth taking her, taking control. He yanked her t-shirt up and off, then pulled up her bra to free her breasts. Then he was kneeling while his mouth took rough possession of one nipple and his fingers tugged cruelly at the other. The pleasure was exquisite. "Aaaaahh!" she cried. "Ohmygod! Oh! OH!" She pulled his head harder against her chest, arching her back to press her small tit against his mouth. He suckled her eagerly. In a moment he had unbuttoned her cutoffs and pushed them to her ankles along with her plain cotton panties. Then his fingers were exploring her hairy pussy, finding her sex and penetrating, slowly, deeply, inside her. She whimpered and her knees almost buckled. Darla was momentarily embarrassed by how wet she was. Once Blake parted her inner lips her juices flowed freely, coating his fingers and easing their passage. Her knees buckled again and she started sinking to the floor. "No so fast," Blake muttered, holding her up. He pulled her cutoffs and panties off her bare feet and guided her towards the couch. But instead of lying her down, he bent her over the back of the couch until her forearms rested on the cushions. Now her feet remained on the floor while her hips were supported by the back of the couch and her ass was in the air. By the time she grew puzzled by this strange contortion, Darla felt the head of Blake's dick pressing against her pussy lips from behind. She groaned deeply, anticipating the thrusts that would fill her long-empty well. They weren't long in coming. A series of short, powerful thrusts left his thick member buried to the hilt in Darla's welcoming pussy. She could only brace herself and pant quickly as waves of pleasure washed through her. Then he pulled out, nearly all the way, before shoving his dick into her again. She could feel him deep inside. Soon he was quickly withdrawing and shoving back into her welcoming pussy. His hands held her hips with bruising force and his position allowed him to thrust hard, drawing leverage from his legs and force from his buttocks. There was a small, wet sound each time he withdrew, followed by an audible 'SMACK' with each new penetration as the front of his hips met her rounded buttocks. He fucked her hard, to her growing joy. "Ohmygod I'm getting fucked at last!" she cried inwardly, her bare nipples rubbing against the rough fabric of the couch. "God I need this! How have I lived without this?" Blake changed his stroke, alternating short spates of hard fucking with longer periods of slow, steady thrusting. When he entered her slowly, Darla could feel the head of his dick parting and sliding against her inner walls. When he fucked her fast, her world became a blur of sensations bringing her to a powerful state of arousal. "I have to come," she thought to herself. "I'm so close ... so close ... I'll die if I don't come!" Blake must have sensed she was near the crest because he settled into a steady pace and changed the angle of his dick slightly. Now as he entered Darla his shaft rubbed slightly against the fleshy lips that cradled her clit, while the head slid firmly against her inner walls. Darla felt a growing tension in her lower body, her belly and legs. Her neglected nipples were painfully hard. The repeated stimulation of her clit gave her a sense of growing pressure that must be released, and her closed eyes saw only a pink-red haze. Then it happened. "FUCK!" she shouted as her pussy spasmed, squeezing his dick, and her climax began. She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts. "FUCK! FUCK! OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! OH! OH! OH! UGH! UGH! UGH! UGH!" She knew the sounds she was making weren't ladylike. They were barely human. But she was too far out of control to care. For a moment she wanted the world to hear, to know she was coming and coming HARD! with a long, fat dick pounding her slick pussy. "AH! AH! AH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH!" she cried as her body convulsed with pleasure. She spasmed again and again and her pussy involuntarily squeezed Blake's dick. One hand reached fruitlessly behind her, wanting to touch him, and she finished with a long, satisfied groan, "AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaammmmm." He stood motionless for perhaps a minute, still buried deep inside her. She panted and enjoyed the fading glow of her orgasm. Then she sighed with disappointment as he pulled slowly out. A second later she was twisting to look over her shoulder at him, because Blake was rubbing the slick, wet head of his dick against her smaller hole. "No, Blake," she said firmly. That is NOT going to happen!" And then her breath was gone because his thumbs pulled her ass cheeks wide and his dickhead was pressing hard against her asshole. She tried to wiggle away, but her bent-over position put her at a disadvantage. Then 'POP' and the fat head of his dick was inside her, sliding slowly deeper on a coating of pussy juice. She felt a burning pain she could not escape and humiliation mixed with incredible arousal. This was forbidden. This could not happen. He hadn't ASKED for entry to her bottom! "Ohmygod, it HURTS!" she wailed, but already the pain was less, accompanied by an incredible sensation of fullness and pressure. There wasn't room for his dick in her ass, but impossibly it was there. Gripping the couch, she held herself motionless to avoid further agony. And he was pulling out and she groaned as the pain soared again. Then he was pushing again, sliding slowly back inside. Darla was panting, trying to ignore the pain. Slowly he withdrew and slowly penetrated until -- all at once -- he stopped. She opened her eyes and was horrified to see Emma standing just a few feet away, her hair tousled. She was dressed only in a t-shirt with her dark blonde muff peeking from underneath the hem. Darla was speechless, but Emma was not. "You'll probably need some oil," she said, stepping closer and handing a small bottle to Blake. Then Emma swept the magazines off the coffee table and pulled it flush against the couch. She sat on the opposite edge, then spun around to face Darla, spreading her legs. Now Emma's ass was on the coffee table, her legs were spread wide and her pussy was not six inches from Darla's nose. "HE won't fuck me," Emma said tersely, cutting her eyes up at Blake, "so YOU will just have to do it!" Outraged, Darla instantly refused. "I won't do THAT! You KNOW I won't!" she hissed, glaring up at Emma. "If you don't eat me, I'll make Taylor," Emma whispered, her eyes boring into her stepmother's. "You know she'll do anything I want." Stunned, Darla knew instantly that Emma was right. Sweet, needy Taylor would do ANYTHING for the approval of her beautiful half-sister. Emma had only to ask in the right way, at the right time, and Taylor would lick her pussy and be grateful for the privilege. Still, Darla readied herself to exert a supreme effort, push Emma aside and pull herself away from Blake. In three minutes Emma would be upstairs in tears and Blake would be on the porch with his clothes in his hands. She knew she could do it, HAD to do it. She would think of a way to protect sweet little Taylor! Then she felt Blake's fingers spreading warm, slick oil on her asshole. Her nose caught the fresh, musky scent of Emma's pussy and her face felt the warmth rising from the girl's widespread crotch. She hesitated ... whimpered ... hesitated ... then lowered her face and pressed her nose into Emma's tangled bush. She shoved her tongue into the girl's thick pubes. Between Emma's swollen labia, Darla found her wet inner lips and began stroking them up towards her clit. "It's not fair," she thought, "Her pussy even tastes good." "I HAVE to do this!" she thought, finding Emma's swollen clit and sucking on it gently. "I HAVE to save Taylor!" And then all thought was wiped away as Blake's dick slid slowly, smoothly, deeply into her ass. Darla's Dilemma For more background on many of the characters in this story, please read the following: What Mother-in-Law Wants Badge of Betrayal Clarissa Gets Served Grab Life by the Balls The Ghost of Red River Falls This story also contains some graphic descriptions of domestic abuse. If you or someone you know is currently in an abusive relationship, please seek help or get them help. Domestic violence is a crime that should be tolerated by no one. If you have been a victim of domestic violence and think that stories of this nature may be upsetting to you, then please do not read this story. For all others, I hope you enjoy the offering. As always, comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are always welcome. If you're just here to throw hand grenades, your comments will probably be deleted - especially if you post anonymously. Go be a jerk on someone else's time. SB Darla's Dilemma A Red River Falls Spinoff Story The long single tone of the pager went off at 02:47. Immediately I bolt upright in bed, flip on the nightstand light and spin sideways to plant my feet on the floor and listen to the dispatch. "Attention Eagle Star pilot and crew, attention Eagle Star pilot and crew. Mason County Sheriff's Office is requesting your response for a motor vehicle collision with injuries on Highway 120, approximately 15 miles south of Red River Falls. Martindale Fire and Rescue are on scene. Accident involves a single-vehicle rollover. One fatality confirmed. Martindale Fire and Rescue advises prolonged extrication in progress. Time of call 02:47." I quickly stand and zip up my flight suit and step into my boots. I grab the handheld radio next to the bed from its charger and begin making my way to the front door of the EMS crew apartment at Holy Family Medical Center. I hesitate long enough to hear the pilot and flight nurse acknowledge the call. "Pilot copies. Pending weather check," Gene Emory, our pilot, replied. "Nurse copies," Mara Kendrick, my nurse and partner, replied. I thumbed the button on the Motorola handheld. "Paramedic copies." "Ten-four. Crew copies, pending weather check." Gene stopped by the pilot's desk and quickly brought up the weather page on the computer. Ceilings were unlimited, visibility greater than ten miles, winds light and variable with no gusts exceeding 10 miles per hour. Lunar illumination was 64%. The conditions for night flight didn't get much better. "Holy Family base, Eagle Star will accept the flight," Gene advised. "Copy. Accepting flight. Will advise Mason County deputies and Martindale Fire." The three of us grab our gear and helmets and head for an express elevator, which will take us from the sixth floor to the ground floor immediately. Our helipad is located on the east side of Holy Family Medical Center and directly in front of the new $80 million Emergency Department. Sitting on that pad is our magnificent helicopter, a twin-engine Bell 429 Global Ranger air ambulance in her stunning two-tone silver and royal blue paint scheme. Mara secured our EMS jump pack in the rear-facing seat just behind the pilot, who sits in the right front seat of the ship. With over 200 cubic feet of space there is ample room for the pilot up front, for Mara and I in the back, and for the ability to transport up to two patients. Mara's seat swivels and slides on rails so she can either attend the patient from the side or she can manage the airway of a second patient, if necessary. I secured the Zoll Propaq MD cardiac monitor in its place. We'll use that to monitor our patient's blood pressure, oxygenation, heart rhythm and other vital signs once he or she is on board with us. I secure myself into my left-side rear-facing seat. I will be at the head of the patient once we pick them up. We can either load patients from the rear of the cabin underneath the tail boom or they can be loaded through the side doors of the ship. My primary job in flight will be airway management and monitoring the patient's vital signs. My flight helmet is the last thing I don before closing the side door of the ship. I bring my Pinnacle PVS-23 Night Vision Goggles into place and begin checking my vision. The world around the ship erupts into varying shades of gray and black. Objects previously unseen present their shapes in perfect clarity. In particular, I make sure I can effectively identify utility poles, power lines and communications towers - all of which are some of the greatest threats to nighttime flying. From his pilot's seat Gene yells, "CLEAR!" and he punches the actuator button that brings the Bell 429's powerful twin Pratt and Whitney PW-207D1 engines on line. The engines begin the windup process that, when they are at full power, will each deliver 730 shaft horsepower to the ship and generate enough power to reach speeds of 150 knots. The strong smell of Jet A fuel begins permeating through the cabin but is quickly dissipated once the ventilation systems kick in. Once the engines are spun up, Gene calls out to Mara and I on the internal coms. "Crew and mission equipment ready for takeoff?" "Ready on the left," I reply. "I have green in both tubes. I can see up, down and around. Belts, doors and switches secure." "Ready on the right," Mara echoes. "I have green in both tubes. I can see up, down and around. Belts, doors and switches secure." "Pilot copies crew and mission equipment ready for takeoff," Gene acknowledges. "Holy Family Base, Eagle Star Helicopter November-Niner-Niner-Four-Alpha-Lima taking off from Eagle Star base. We have three souls on board and two hours and thirty minutes of fuel. ETA to the scene is approximately six minutes." "Eagle Star, good copy. Time of dust off, 02:52. Godspeed." Gene brings the Bell 429's throttle to full power and a brief shaking occurs as the big helicopter strains against gravity while he pulls up on the collective. The 429 wins the fight and begins a smooth assent to a height of approximately 300 feet to ensure we are well above the height of the hospital building. "Coming left," Gene says. "Copy. Coming left," I reply. I give a quick scan and ensure there are no potential obstacles in our way. "Clear right," Mara says, as she does the same. It is her job to look to the right as that is the direction the tail of the helicopter will swing in a left turn maneuver. We've done this take-off maneuver in all directions hundreds of times ever since Holy Family has had a helicopter service. With the big Bell 429 facing south, Gene nudges forward on the stick and we begin racing southward towards the scene of the accident. I quickly thumb the switch on the main radio to the "mutual aid" setting so I can contact the Mason County Sheriff's Department and make sure the deputies and Martindale's first responders have established and secured a landing zone. "Mason County Sheriff, this is Eagle Star. How do you copy?" I wait a few seconds before hearing, "Eagle Star, this is Mason County 17-21." "17-21, can you please advise if the landing zone has been secured?" "10-4, Eagle Star. The scene is just north of Mile Marker 99. The vehicle is off the road approximately 80 feet. We have both north and southbound traffic stopped and a guard is posted to watch your tail rotor." "Good copy, 17-21. Can you advise if the extrication is still in progress?" "Eagle Star, it looks as if they are just about to get the victim out of the vehicle and onto a board." "Good copy, 17-21. ETA is less than three minutes." "10-4, Eagle Star. We're awaiting your arrival." I craned my head and neck to try and look behind me as much as possible, which was to look towards the front of the helicopter. Through the canopy window I could see numerous red and blue flashing strobe lights indicating that we were less than two minutes from landing. Gene brought the big helicopter into a wide sweeping arc to give us all a view of the scene. He eventually brought the nose of the aircraft facing north. "We got power lines on the east side of the roadway, Gene," Mara advised. "Copy. I got eyes on," Gene confirmed. Again, communications towers and utility poles and wires were among the biggest threats to a helicopter attempting to land in the dark. Gene kept his eyes steady on his altimeter and, with his view through his night vision goggles, he executed yet another flawless landing right on the hard asphalt of Highway 120. "Holy Family base, Eagle Star is on scene. Preparing for a hot load and go. ETOS ten minutes." ETOS is 'Estimated Time On Scene'. "Good copy, Eagle Star. Time is 02:59." I took my helmet and goggles off and gently set them on my seat after I unbuckled. The first thing I grabbed was my stethoscope so I could listen to lung sounds of the patient before loading them into the helicopter. Once on board, I'd never be able to hear anything. I also grabbed our jump kit, which contained the bulk of our medical supplies, including everything for a trauma. I debarked from my side of the ship and immediately started looking for the Incident Commander. Several fire trucks were on scene and had the scene of the accident lit up fairly well. The vehicle, a two-door Camaro, had left the highway and rolled multiple times. The vehicle was probably a good 60 or 80 feet from the road and somehow had managed to land on all four wheels, although it was heavily damaged. I found the person I was looking for, one of the Martindale volunteer firefighters, who happened to be wearing a red helmet while all of the others were wearing yellow helmets. "Hi. My name is Daulton Anderson," I yelled over the roar of the still-running chopper. "What can you tell me so far?" "We have one confirmed fatality," he shouted back. "The driver of the vehicle wasn't belted in and got ejected. He's under that yellow tarp out in the field," he said, pointing to a spot that was almost another 80 feet from where the vehicle landed. "They were going northbound, headed back to Red River Falls. Lost control and flipped over ten times before striking that giant dead oak tree on the passenger side. Probably doing 80 or 90 mph, maybe even faster. The passenger is a female. She's got at least one broken arm and possibly a busted femur, at least that's what the first responders said. I can't believe she's still alive. Oh, looks like they've got her out now!" I saw a group of firefighters and EMTs carefully placing the patient on a back board. They had a cervical collar in place and I could see her moving her left arm for sure. One of the EMTs was holding the right one in place and trying to apply a splint. I rushed down to the area where they were working on her. "Don't worry about applying a splint," I instructed. "As long as there is no bleeding, just place the arm next to her body and strap her down to the back board. What else is wrong with her?" "She's probably got a busted femur and busted tib-fib, both on the right leg," one of the responders said. "Not sure, but we think she might have a broken pelvis, too." "Set her down and let me do a quick assessment before we load her," I directed. The female was fairly young, probably 23 to 27 years old. She had numerous cuts all over her face, which made her look worse because the face tends to bleed a lot, even from minor wounds. She also had a non-rebreather oxygen mask in place. I quickly scanned her pupils, which were sluggish but equally reactive to my pen light. There was no blood coming from her eyes, ears, nose or mouth. The smell of alcohol was prevalent as I got close to her face. Most ominous, she didn't really react verbally and was obviously in shock. The right thigh was significantly larger than the left, indicating an obvious femur fracture and bleeding heavily inside. And she shrieked in pain when I pushed in on the sides of her pelvis. I could also feel movement in the pelvis as I applied pressure - a surefire sign that the pelvis had fractured. Normally, we would apply a traction splint to reduce the femur fracture in the field. But putting one on in this case would only pull apart the broken bones in the tibia and fibula and do nothing for the more serious femur fracture, which can bleed - A LOT. Her left lung sounds were good and active but the right lung sounds were severely diminished and her right rib cage was heavily bruised, indicating multiple broken ribs but no flail segments, which are ribs broken into places. More importantly, it was obvious that the trachea was starting to shift to the left, indicating that the right lung was collapsing. When this happens, the lung doesn't really deflate. Instead, air starts to build up in the space between the lung and the chest wall, which increases pressure on the lung, thereby causing it to "collapse". In reality, it is trapping air that will not allow the lung to inflate properly and basically squeezes it shut. Also her abdomen was rigid and firm with no audible bowel sounds present, which was another indication of internal bleeding. I quickly reached into my flight suit's side cargo pocket and grabbed a quick set for an IV. I applied a tourniquet quickly and found the patient still had a good left antecubital vein, which is on the inner part of the elbow, as the left arm did not appear to be injured. I quickly stuck a large 16 gauge catheter in the vein and applied a saline lock, which is a short piece of closed IV tubing that can be connected to longer tubing later to administer IV fluids. I flushed the IV quickly with a 10 milliliter syringe of fluid to ensure the IV was good and secured it with a transparent dressing and tape. The IV stick only took about 90 seconds. Then I shouted "Helicopter! Now!" Normally, we didn't delay transport to do an IV but I felt it was imperative to get the IV quickly as she was going deeper into shock. The more her blood pressure dropped, the more difficult it would be to get IV access. The group of EMTs and firefighters scooped up the backboard and patient and we moved to the roaring Bell 429. Mara had the clamshell doors open on the back. I stopped our group and made eye contact with the pilot and Gene gave us a thumbs-up to proceed to the loading area. Absolutely NO ONE approaches the tail of an active helicopter without the pilot's knowledge. Mara met us there and we secured the backboard into place on the left cot, slid her into place in front of my seat and climbed aboard, thanking the EMTs and firefighters for doing a great job. One of them handed me a slip of paper with some patient info on it before they all ducked low and walked away from the helicopter. I immediately placed my helmet back on and buckled into place as Mara slid her seat into place alongside the patient. She immediately applied the blood pressure cuff and pulse oxymetry probe to the patient and switched her oxygen mask's line to our onboard oxygen system. "What all do we have, Daulton?" Mara asked over the intercom. "Fractures of the right humerus, right femur, right tib-fib. No traction to the right leg possible. Possible pelvic fracture, as well. Gonna need to apply a tie-sheet to reduce. She's also working on a right-side tension pneumothorax. We've got tracheal shift to the left side. Tummy is hard and tender and I heard no bowel sounds." "Okay. I can see the shift. Let's go ahead and get ready for decompression. Let's work on reducing the pelvis and we'll see how her BP is afterwards after we hang fluid. We'll also get Tranexamic Acid hanging, as well. Gene, we can take off but I'm gonna need to unbuckle once we are on our way, okay?" "Copy," Gene acknowledged. It was extremely important to let Gene know everything that was going on in the back, as much as possible, especially if we needed to unbuckle and move around in the back of the ship as it can affect flight characteristics. Once we have a patient on board our call sign changes from "Eagle Star" to simply "Lifeguard", which is a signal to all aircraft in the area to give us priority clearance. Also, we fall under the control of Hector International Airport out of Fargo to maintain our airspace clearance. "Contact, Hector International. This is Lifeguard Helicopter November-Niner-Niner-Four-Alpha-Lima. We are dusting off from the scene, en route to Holy Family pad, heading three-five-five, speed one-two-zero knots. We have four souls on board and approximately two hours and 10 minutes of fuel. ETA eight minutes." "Lifeguard November-niner-niner-four-alpha-lima, Hector International. Good copy. I have you on radar. Maintain current speed and heading. You are clear for priority approach to Holy Family pad. Copy ETA of 8 minutes." In the back, I quickly exposed the right breast area of the patient and palpated the area between the 2nd and 3rd rib and referenced that with the nipple line. As I did so, I noticed through my gloved fingers that her skin now felt like rice paper. Thousands of tiny air bubbles were forming under the skin, which is called subcutaneous emphysema, from the collapsing right lung. I quickly scrubbed the area with an iodine swab and grabbed a large two-inch long 14-gauge IV needle. I pushed straight downward through the skin and felt a "pop" sensation once the needle penetrated the right lung space. I pulled the metal stylette out while holding the hollow plastic catheter in place and was greeted with a quick hiss of escaping trapped air and some bloody bubbles from the right lung. It was a temporary fix until the patient could get a chest tube in place. But it helped equalize the lung pressure and allowed the right lung to begin "inflating" again by getting rid of the trapped air. Mara grabbed an extra bed sheet and slid it underneath the patient's buttocks as gently as she could. Together, we pulled as tightly as we could to squeeze the patient's hips together and then tied a tight square knot to hold it in place. The patient was now more alert and talking following the lung decompression and after applying the improvised pelvic harness. I could see that she was trying to talk to me but it was nearly impossible for me to understand what she was saying through the oxygen mask and the noise of the ship. All I could do was yell, "My name is Daulton! I'm a paramedic! You were in a bad accident! We're taking you to Holy Family Medical Center in Red River Falls! You're hurt pretty bad but we're going to take very good care of you! Do you understand?" The patient simply nodded her head 'yes' as much as she could with the cervical collar in place around her neck. I notified Gene that I was going to change frequencies and immediately switched our radio over to the hospital channel to contact Holy Family's Emergency Department. I glanced at the Propaq monitor to assess the patient's vital signs and was not pleased with what I saw as her blood pressure continued to drop and was now 70/45. "Holy Family ER, this is Eagle Star. Come online for trauma report." Katie Stevens, the ER charge nurse, came online to take my report. "Eagle Star, this is Holy Family. Go ahead." "Holy Family, we have an approximately 25 year old female patient who was involved in a single-vehicle rollover with significant damage. Be advised there was a fatality in the same vehicle." I was speaking into my microphone in a normal voice, which was good as I didn't want the patient to freak out when I notified the ER of a fatality. "Patient has an obvious fracture of the right humerus, right femur, right tib-fib and a high probability of a pelvic fracture. Abdomen is rigid, as well, and no bowel sounds present. Patient presented with an obvious right lung tension pneumothorax, which was reduced with a 14-gauge needle decompression. Initial oxygen saturation was 85% on high-flow O2. Saturation is now 99% and tracheal deviation is reduced. We have a large-bore IV in place with normal saline running wide open. TXA is also infusing at this time. Darla's Dilemma "Blood pressure is 70/45, pulse is 138, respirations are 24, and temp is 37 degrees Celsius. Cardiac monitor shows sinus tachycardia, rate of 138 with occasional PVCs." PVC stands for Premature Ventricular Contraction and can be a possible precursor to cardiac arrest. "Patient is secured on a back board with c-collar. Extrication time was plus-20 minutes. ETA to the pad is approximately 2 minutes. Requesting trauma alert and personnel to meet us for a hot unload. How copy, Holy Family?" "Good copy," Katie replied. "We've been monitoring the scene and a trauma alert has been called. Trauma and neurosurgeons' ETA's are less than five minutes. Personnel are standing by on the pad and awaiting your arrival." "Good copy. Eagle Star out." Gene once again brought the helicopter into a wide arc and Mara and I put our night vision goggles back on. "Crew and mission equipment ready for landing?" Gene asked. "Ready on the left," I replied. "Belts, doors and switches secure." "Ready on the right," Mara confirmed. "Belts, doors and switches secure." "Copy. Crew and mission equipment ready for landing." Gene flipped on the belly-mounted landing lights of the helicopter and illuminated the pad from above. We could see a gurney and four personnel ready to help us unload. Like always, Gene executed another flawless landing and brought the big ship down gently and dead-center on the pad. "Holy Family base, Eagle Star is back on the pad, time now." "Copy, Eagle Star. Time is 3:17. Welcome home." Mara immediately unbuckled and opened the clamshell doors at the back. The awaiting gurney crew made eye contact with Gene and was rushing over to meet us. All four of them were already donned in full trauma gear with gloves, gowns, masks, hoods, booties and face shields to protect them from blood and body fluids. We quickly released the cot and slid it towards the back of the ship. I grabbed the Propaq monitor and the IV bags and exited the ship as the patient was quickly placed on the gurney and rushed into the Emergency Department, all the while the ship was still operating at full power prior to shutting down. We rushed into the main trauma room where two emergency department physicians and nearly twenty other personnel were waiting for us. Several units of O-negative blood had been brought down from the lab and were ready to be infused into the patient immediately. Portable x-ray machines were standing by outside the ED and CT technicians were on standby in the CT room ready to obtain more in-depth imagery when called upon. A few minutes later Doctor Marcelino, a trauma surgeon, and Doctor Chandraskatta, a neurosurgeon, both arrived to direct their part of the situation. A respiratory therapist and the anesthesiologist on-call both arrived and a gastroenterologist had been paged and was expected shortly. Within 5 minutes, we had another large-bore IV in place and the patient was actively receiving blood products. At the same time, the first radiology images had come in and confirmed that the patient did, indeed, have all of the fractures we had noted. Within another ten minutes, the CT scan had been performed and showed the remnants of the collapsed lung, along with the presence of a large amount of blood in the patient's pelvis and abdomen. Blessedly, the CT of her head and neck revealed no signs of a brain injury or spinal injury. Thank God for small miracles. A surgical staff consisting of numerous surgical techs, nursing assistants, as well as trauma and surgical nurses, had assembled and prepped an operating room for emergency surgery. Within twenty minutes of touching down, the patient had been sedated and had a breathing tube inserted in her airway, as well as a chest tube placed, and she was rushed off to the surgical suite for emergency surgery. Mara and I stood there as the last member of the trauma entourage left the trauma room. What had been an incredibly busy, noisy and bustling room only a few short moments before was now empty and took on an eerie silence. The trauma room was a total mess and would probably take the environmental services staff the better part of an hour to clean up, along with the nurses and ER technicians who would have to restock all of the supplies that were used. Mara and I gathered up our own equipment and replaced all of the supplies that we had used on the scene and during the subsequent return flight. All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through my body moments earlier now seemed to be quickly exiting my blood stream and the energy was being replaced by an overwhelming sense of fatigue. Gene had made it back to the flight crew dormitory before we did, after having plugged in the helicopter's battery charger and topping off the ship's fuel. With our medical supplies replenished, Eagle Star was officially back in service. Since the flight was a trauma call, it was my responsibility to write the patient care report. Most of our calls are medical calls that involve transporting patients from one hospital to another. On those flights, Mara took the lead in patient care. But since paramedics generally have more hands-on experience working scene calls for accidents, we generally took the lead in patient care on those calls. Make no mistake, though. As the Flight Nurse, Mara Kendrick was still ultimately responsible for patient care. She trusted me, though, and was more than confident in my abilities to provide excellent patient care. It also didn't hurt that I worked with her husband, Josh, in my full-time job as a firefighter and paramedic with the Red River Falls Fire Department. I only worked for Eagle Star about 2 or 3 shifts a month and they were usually only 12-hour shifts, whereas the full-time medics worked 24-hour shifts. I finally finished documenting the call around 4:30 am. I decided to try and catch a few z's before I had to drive back home to my place in Royal Fork, which was about 45 minutes west of Red River Falls. Our shift on the helicopter starts and ends at 7 am, so I took advantage of the opportunity to catch some extra sleep. I'd have Mara look over my report before she left for home, just in case she had anything she wanted to add that I might have forgotten or overlooked. Overall, I felt the call went really well. We were only on scene for ten minutes, had accomplished a lot of patient care on scene and during the flight back to Holy Family. The first responders and firefighters from Martindale did an excellent job cutting the patient out of that mangled wreck and the Mason County Deputies and state troopers on scene did an excellent job setting up the landing zone. I couldn't really see much room for improvement, though there were always things that we could do better. But often enough, sometimes you can do everything right and bad things can still happen. And in this instance, it was one of those times. Stephanie Pinkerton and her boyfriend, Ziggy Alexopolous, had been partying with friends at the only operating bar in Martindale and had decided to race home afterwards. Both Stephanie and Ziggy had been drinking but Ziggy had way too much and had absolutely no business behind the wheel of any vehicle. But he wanted to show off for Stephanie and stretch his new-to-him Chevy Camaro to the limits and lost control of the vehicle. An autopsy would show Ziggy's blood alcohol content was 0.25 - over three times the legal limit by state law. Less than 20 minutes after getting her into emergency surgery, Stephanie Pinkerton died on the operating table from massive internal hemorrhaging. She was a month shy of her 26th birthday. She left behind a six-year old daughter and a three-year old son. I live in the town of Royal Fork, which is about 45 miles west of Red River Falls, where I worked. I couldn't help but replay the entire call over and over in my mind and wonder if there was something I could have done or something I shouldn't have done that would have made a difference in the outcome. The smart part of me knew that there was almost nothing that really could have changed the result, especially when one considers the amount of trauma the young lady had suffered. The emotional part of me, however, always desires and needs some kind of explanation for why a person dies instead of lives through a trauma. It is the way that most firefighters, paramedics, law enforcement, doctors and nurses are wired. We always want to believe that there was at least one thing that could have made a difference. I guess it is sort of an internal quality assurance process we put ourselves through. I pulled into the driveway of my house, which is a mid-1970s split-level home with an attached two-stall garage. I parked my 2014 Taurus in the right hand spot. The left parking spot was reserved for my live-in girlfriend, Darla Jones. Darla had moved in with me about four months ago, along with her five-year old daughter Natalie and her three-year old little boy, Nathan. Darla's divorce from her husband of the previous seven years, Randy Jones, would be finalized in a little over a month. Most of my friends had told me to beware of getting involved with a woman who was separated and not divorced yet - especially my best friend, Danny Larson. Danny was particularly vocal about his concerns, mostly because he had known Darla and Randy before I did. They had been together since their high school days and had a pretty rocky relationship the entire time. They had broken up numerous times in high school, only to eventually get back together again. Several other guys had been interested in Darla and probably would have treated her a helluva lot better than Randy ever had. But none of them could break Randy's spell that he held over Darla. I had met Darla through some mutual friends of our down at the local watering hole here in Royal Fork, a bar called 'The Half-Pint'. I was immediately smitten with her. She was a natural and dark complexioned brunette with eyes so brown they were almost black. She was packed into a small 5-foot 1-inch frame with a spectacular set of D-breasts that gave her the most delicious-looking curves I had ever seen on a woman. She was short but she was an absolute dynamo of sex and beauty. We took our time getting to know one another, especially since she was in the process of going through a divorce. Somehow, I managed to win her over and we began dating exclusively. About three months into our relationship, we decided to move her and the kids out of Darla's parent's house and into mine. I have three bedrooms and two full bathrooms so it seemed to make perfect sense. Plus, I was absolutely crazy about Natalie and Nathan and quickly began bonding with them from the moment we first met. I hadn't even met Randy Jones. Shortly before Darla served him with divorce papers for his chronic drinking and womanizing, he supposedly took off for one of the burgeoning oil fields up in North Dakota and got a job as some type of laborer for one of the oil companies. Darla hadn't heard from him the entire time we have been together. The divorce proceedings were largely uncontested, up to this point, and Randy's attorney consented to the terms, which essentially meant Darla could have all the furniture and whatever was in the checking account, which wasn't much. The judge issued a temporary custody agreement and Randy was ordered to pay a miserly $200.00 in child support each month, which had been based off the income of his last known steady job, which was working as a clerk at one of two large convenience stores in Royal Fork, the Pump-N-Shop. I entered the house from the garage, went upstairs to the kitchen and put my overnight bag and keys on the kitchen table. Immediately, something caught my attention. It was extremely faint but it was undoubtedly the smell of cigarette smoke. I walked around the upper floor and into the kids' bedrooms and finally the master bedroom trying to locate the source of the smell. Nothing seemed out of place in any of the rooms. I couldn't tell where it was coming from but the smell was unmistakable. Someone had been smoking in my house. I stepped out onto the deck and looked around for cigarette butts. I saw nothing at first but decided to check further. I walked down the stairs to the bottom of the deck and looked underneath it. There on the ground were four cigarette butts. Marlboro Lights. I knew Darla didn't smoke and I hadn't had anyone else over to my house, such as a repairman or delivery man. Judging by the smell of the cigarettes inside the house, I could only conclude that someone had been smoking on the deck and then entered the house, bringing some of the smoke with him or her. No one was at home right now other than me. Nathan was at daycare and Natalie went to a morning pre-school and afternoon daycare with Nathan. Darla was at her job over at Callahan Manufacturing. Callahan was the biggest factory in Royal Fork and one of the biggest employers. Darla worked there on the first shift from 8 am to 4 pm. Callahan's made a variety of trailers - everything from flatbed semi-trailers, to cattle and horse trailers, to car haulers and a bunch of smaller utility and landscaping trailers. I couldn't think of anyone that Darla might have had over. None of her immediate family smoked and neither did any of her friends, at least not that I know of. I decided to put the thought out of my head and grab a shower to wash the funk of a 24-hour shift off of me. I felt more human again after the shower and decided to tinker on a few projects around the house until everyone got home. Darla and the kids got home shortly after 4:15 that afternoon. Darla looked tired and the kids were both rambunctious. But Natalie and Nathan both ran up to me and gave me a big hug. The two little ankle biters were really starting to grow on me. I was quickly getting to the point where I couldn't imagine my life without the two of them and their mom. Darla looked exhausted from her day on the job. Believe it or not, she was a welder on one of the main assembly lines. I went ahead and got dinner started, which was just a simple casserole of Mac-n-Cheese and chicken along with jello, which the kids loved. It wasn't fancy but it was filling. I really enjoyed sitting around the table with Darla and the kids. After dinner, Darla helped me clear the table and I washed the dishes. She had been getting on my case ever since she moved in about getting a dishwasher installed but I hadn't found it necessary yet. Besides, when I was still "batching" it, I never really used enough dishes on a regular basis to warrant one. "So, how was work today?" I asked. "Oh, the usual for the most part," Darla replied, drying the casserole pan. "It sounds like they are actually planning on adding some new people, so we might be able to cut back on some of the mandatory overtime." "That'd awesome! Maybe you, the kids and I can actually take off for a whole weekend some time soon." "Well," she hesitated, "probably not until school lets out for summer in a few weeks." "Yeah, I suppose," I said. "Say, just out of curiosity, did anybody stop by yesterday while I was gone?" Darla didn't look at me but kept drying a plate. "No, not that I remember. Why do you ask?" "Just curious. I thought I could smell a whiff of cigarettes smoke when I came home this morning." "Well, the only person in my family who smokes is my Dad but he didn't stop over yesterday." "Yeah, I know," I said, pensively. "Besides, your dad smokes Camels." "What does that have to do with it?" She still wasn't looking at me. "Aw, nothing. I just found a few Marlboro butts underneath the deck out back." As I said that, I noticed Darla inhale deeply. It was obvious that she knew something but was holding it back. "I dunno," she said. "It was probably just one of the utility meter readers or something. I'm sure it was either the water or electricity guy. Both of those meters are under the deck, you know." I could see her relax a bit with that answer. "Hmm. Possibly," I answered. "But those guys are on a schedule and move pretty quickly. I doubt either of them would stop to have a cigarette under my deck. One maybe, but probably not four." Darla quickly put away her drying towel. "I'm gonna go get the kids started on their baths," she said heading towards their bedrooms. "Kinda early for baths, isn't it?" "Yeah," she called back. "But they were both up kind of late last night and I want to get them to bed a little early tonight. Besides, you know how they both hate baths." Yes, I did know. But she usually never made them take a bath until right before bed, which was always 8:30 sharp so they were in bed by nine at the latest. She was obviously avoiding me. Darla gave the kids their baths and we all just kind of vegged out in front of the TV the rest of the night watching a couple of kids shows on Netflix. Darla said very little to me before we went to bed and seemed overly engrossed in the children. But I sensed she was intentionally ignoring me. We both stayed up to watch the news, not that I would remember any of it with the 800 pound elephant in the room. I was the first to crawl into bed and waited for Darla. She came to bed wearing a simply one-piece night shirt. It never ceased to amaze me who she could look sexy in just about anything. She got into bed, gave me a quick kiss goodnight and then immediately rolled over facing away from me. I slid over and spooned in behind her and immediately began roaming my hands over her body, which was my silent way of initiating sex. Darla grabbed my hand and pulled my arm around her in an embrace. "Sorry, babe. It's just been a long day and I'm really wiped out," she said. "No problem," I answered, deflated. "I understand." Truth is, I didn't understand. In the entire time we have been together, that was the first time that she had ever refused me sexually. That's not to say we had sex every single night we were together, obviously. But that was the first time she had ever refused me when I tried to initiate it. I laid there and just cuddled her but I knew she was having just as much trouble falling asleep as I was. Something was obviously not right. And the cigarettes were a major clue. ***** I got up at five the next morning, got cleaned up and ready for work. I kissed Darla on the forehead at 5:45, got into my car and headed for Red River Falls. She barely stirred when I kissed her and I sensed that she was only feigning sleep. I got to the fire station a little after 6:30 and got my gear ready for work. My job title is actually that of a firefighter but I'm assigned as a senior paramedic to one of three ambulances we staff. Our fire coverage is only for the city of Red River Falls but we provide ambulance coverage for almost all of Mason County. Most of the smaller towns in Mason County, such as Martindale, have a fire department with a few members who are certified as First Responders. Therefore, they are the first ones to arrive on the scene of a medical emergency while an ambulance gets dispatched from Red River Falls. A couple of the bigger towns, like Royal Fork, have their own volunteer ambulance services. There are six members of the Red River Falls Fire Department who live in Royal Fork. Unlike a lot of other departments around the country, we are not required to live in the city we serve. Since we provide EMS coverage or assistance to most of Mason County, we are allowed to live anywhere within Mason County. I chose Royal Fork because it was more than just a wide spot in the road. It was an actual town with local shops, gas stations and even a grocery store - unlike the folks in Martindale, population 300, who had to drive over 15 miles just to get a jug of milk. Royal Fork had about 4500 people and a fairly active main street with a good number of local businesses. The school district was centered there and actually managed to gain a few students this last school year. I especially liked the fact that I could find a decent house in Royal Fork. I only paid about $100,000 for my split-level but I would have paid another twenty or thirty grand for the same house in Red River Falls. Darla's Dilemma I work 24-hours on and 48-hours off at the fire department. It usually wasn't so bad and I have a fairly generous amount of paid time off because of the number of hours I am at work in any given year. It took Darla and the kids a while to get used to my schedule, mostly because I think Darla was afraid that maybe I wasn't going to come home. She got pretty used to that because Randy would apparently go away for days at a time on some week-long bender and then show up drunk on her doorstep. He'd sober up in a day, beg for forgiveness and then repeat the process ad nauseum. Why Darla never left him for good was beyond me. They also had more than their fair share of fights, too. What started out initially as loud disagreements eventually devolved into yelling, screaming, broken dishes and, finally, with Randy slapping and backhanding Darla across the face. Finally, she had enough and moved out of their apartment, taking the kids with her to her parents' place. Randy took off for parts unknown up in North Dakota, supposedly getting hired on one of the oil reserves. My 24-hour shift was pretty steady but not overwhelming. It was pretty routine for a Thursday in spring. We only had twelve EMS runs the whole shift and no fire calls. I got back home Friday morning a little after eight o'clock and started my usual routine. But, again, I caught the faintest whiff of cigarettes. As before, none of the bedrooms or downstairs rooms looked out of order. I stepped out on the back deck again and immediately looked through the spaces in the deck. I couldn't see any cigarette butts laying on the ground underneath the deck. I was about to go back in the house but something in my head demanded a closer look. I went down the steps and got underneath the deck. What I was looking for stood out immediately. The ground underneath the deck was perpetually moist from lack of sunlight and the decaying ground frost from warming temperatures. I could see in the ground my obvious footprints from having been underneath the deck two days ago when I first saw the cigarette butts. But today I saw a fresh set of footprints from shoes I knew I didn't own. They were too small to be my prints and they were too big to be Darla's or the kids'. Someone had been smoking on my back deck. Only this time, they were smart enough to pick up their butts. I walked back in the house, absolutely furious. Someone had obviously been there. Both Darla and I are religious about locking the house when we're gone, which could only mean that whoever had stopped by had obviously been invited in. I went ahead and grabbed a shower, stewing about my dilemma the whole time. Who the hell was coming by while I was gone? And why wasn't Darla telling me about it? Just then, I heard my doorbell ring. I jumped out of the shower, threw a towel around me and put on a bathrobe. Just as I exited the bathroom I heard the front door open as someone let themselves in. "Hello? Daulton? It's me, Danny." It was my best friend and Mason County Sheriff's Deputy Danny Larson. "Yeah, up here," I answered. "I just got out of the shower." "Oh, shit. Sorry to bother you, bro," he said, embarrassed. "No biggie. Just let me finish drying off, throw on some clothes and I'll be right out." Danny waited in my living room while I finished toweling off and throwing on a set of clothes. As soon as I was dressed, I headed to the living room where I saw Danny sitting in one of my recliners and sipping on a Coke that he had helped himself to from the fridge. "What's up, bro?" I asked. "Not a lot, man. I just wanted to come by and talk to you about something," Danny said. "Gee. Sounds deep, dude." "It is, Danny. And I'm afraid you won't like it and probably won't really like me for telling you." I felt acid washing over my stomach at his words. "Go on, Danny." "Well, Daulton, this isn't easy for me to say. But somebody has been coming by your house while you're at work. My beat covers Royal Fork, you know, and I patrol the whole town about two hours out of every shift. I swung by your house a few weeks ago and saw an old 1980s style Chevy pickup in your drive. I've seen it here several times since then. You drive a Taurus and Darla drives an Escape, so I know it isn't yours." "Did you run the plates?" "I really shouldn't have, since I can technically get in trouble for tagging random people," he said, hesitantly. Tagging is a term used by some law enforcement officers when they call in a license plate. "But yeah," he continued, "I ran the plate of the truck. It's registered to Darla's ex." I swallowed hard but, other than that, I showed no reaction. "Okay," I said. Danny was confused. "Okay? Is that it?" "I dunno. What else do you want me to say?" "I figured you'd have more of a reaction than that, Daulton. Unless," he said carefully, "you already knew." I went to the kitchen and grabbed a Coke for myself and returned to the living room, flopping down on my sofa across from Danny. "I didn't know it was Randy Jones. But the last few days I have suspected that somebody has been around. I finished a 24-hour shift at Eagle Star a few days ago and when I got home the next morning I was pretty sure I could smell cigarette smoke in the house. I looked all over the house, nothing seemed out of place. But when I went out on the deck, I found a handful of cigarette butts underneath the deck." "You sure it wasn't the water or electric meter reader?" "Pretty sure it wasn't," I said. "I don't know if either of those guys are smokers. But even if they are, I doubt that either one of them is hanging out underneath my deck and having a smoke - especially four of them." "Fair enough," Danny acknowledged. "Anyway, I had a day off and then worked my regular shift at the fire department yesterday. When I got home this morning, I could smell smoke again. I went outside and looked under the deck and saw footprints. Guessing somebody was smoking on my deck again and went underneath to pick up after himself." "That's odd. How would they have known?" "Because," I explained, "I'm a moron. I brought it up with Darla the other night after she got home from work. She tried a gazillion different explanations of who it could have been and she wasn't even remotely convincing. Then, after we went to bed, she completely shut down on me. In the entire time we've been together she has never cut me off from sex. Plus, she laid there in bed pretending to be asleep and I know she was awake for hours." We were both silent for a few moments. "What do you think you'll do?" Danny asked. "I'm gonna fucking get to the bottom of this. If Randy is sniffing around Darla again, it is going to fucking stop and stop NOW!" "Think he is just coming around to see the kids?" he asked. "Possibly," I admitted. "But why now? Why after all these months? In the entire time Darla and I have been together Randy hasn't asked to see the kids even one time." "I see your point," Danny said. "Like I said, what do you think you'll do?" "The only thing I can do, Danny. I'm gonna get to the bottom of this. I'm gonna confront her again tonight and let her know what you told me, too. Once she hears I know Randy has been stopping by the house, she'll have no choice but to come clean." Danny shook his head sympathetically. "I don't envy your situation, Daulton. And no matter what I've said before, I genuinely like Darla and I really hoped the two of you would work out okay." "I know, Danny. And I know you're not an 'I-told-you-so' kind of guy. I appreciate that." Danny downed the rest of his Coke, got up and we firmly shook hands. "I'm really sorry, Daulton. I mean it when I say that I hope this isn't something serious." "I know, man. Thanks for coming by and for letting me know." I watched Danny get into his squad car and leave and a fresh round of acid rinsed over my stomach as I thought about the coming confrontation with Darla. I ran a few errands around town and picked up a new garden hose at Delmar's Hardware. When I got back it was late afternoon and Darla and the kids would be home soon. I browned some hamburger and whipped up some spaghetti for supper, which Darla and the kids loved. Natalie and Nathan both wolfed it down and I couldn't help but crack up watching little Nathan slurp up his noodles one at a time. Darla wanted to try and help clean up afterwards but I told her, "Don't worry about it. I've got it. Just go and wind down a little bit and relax with the kids. I'll come find you in a bit and then you and I are going to have a talk." Darla froze in place. "What do you wanna talk about?" "We'll get to that," I said, scrubbing a pan. "Just go and relax with the kids. I'll be done here in about 20 minutes." She turned, very apprehensively, and left the kitchen. I found her in the downstairs family room watching the kids play Nintendo. I stood there watching them for a few minutes, too. Darla was holding Nathan on her lap while he and Natalie were playing Mario Kart 8. Finally, I said, "Wanna come upstairs and talk for a bit?" Darla looked uneasy and worried as she set Nathan on the sofa. "Go ahead and play with sissy, okay? Mommy and Daulton are gonna go upstairs and talk about some stuff." Both Natalie and Nathan were too engrossed in the game to even respond. Darla followed me up the stairs and into the kitchen, which generally put us out of earshot of the kids down below. We both took a seat at the kitchen table and I had put on a pot of coffee, which I probably shouldn't have this late at night. But the next day was a Saturday and neither Darla nor I had to work, anyway. I looked at her for a couple of moments before speaking. Fear and anxiety were starting to build up and I got a fresh round of butterflies in my stomach. There was only one way to approach this and that was directly. "I wanna know who has been coming by here while I've been at work," I said. Her hesitation was a dead giveaway but she lied anyway. "What are you talking about, Daulton?" "Just be honest with me, okay? I'm trying to have an open and honest conversation and it doesn't work with just one person participating. I want to know who has been coming by here on the days I have been working. I smelled the cigarette smoke again when I got home this morning and I saw footprints under the deck. So, whoever was smoking on my deck again obviously picked up after himself this time." "Daulton, I wouldn't invite anybody over here while you're gone," she said. Not exactly an admission but not a denial. "Okay, so who has been inviting themselves over while I'm at work?" "Why are you asking me this, Daulton? What are you trying to accuse me of?" She was getting visibly agitated and almost squirming in her seat. "Why can't you just answer my question?" "Because I feel like you don't trust me! I don't smoke, Daulton! I have no idea whose cigarettes those are! God! You're starting to sound like my ex-husband!" I got up, walked over and sat down in the seat right next to her. Leaning in close I said, "That's funny you should mention your ex-husband." "Why is that funny, Daulton?" "It's funny, Darla, because my buddy Danny Larson stopped by the house this morning while you were at work. His patrol area covers Royal Fork and he spends quite a bit of his day patrolling through the town. And he has seen an old, tan Chevy pickup truck parked in my driveway several times. But it is only there on days when I happen to be at work. Danny works from 3pm to 11pm. Your shift at Callahan's runs from 7 to 3, which means that the only time Danny could see the truck is during a time when you will most likely be home." Darla just sat there, getting more petrified and clenching her fists in fear. "Furthermore," I went on, "I happen to know who the owner of that piece-of-shit Chevy is. Do you know who the rightful owner is?" Darla just sat there, hung her head, and began crying. "Yeah, I figured you did." I sat there and let her cry for a few minutes. Once she composed herself, I continued. "Do you wanna tell me how long you have been in touch with Randy?" Darla got up and grabbed a tissue from the kitchen counter. She dabbed the tears from her eyes and wiped her nose and tried to get herself under control again. "It started about three weeks ago," she said between sobs. "He came back to town and stopped by my parents' house and asked where I was. My dad wouldn't tell him where the kids and I were living but agreed to give Randy my phone number. The first couple of times he called me when I was working. He finally figured out that I work at Callahan's and ended up following me home. He just said he wanted to talk to me." She wiped her nose again and continued. "Randy said that he got a job up north with one of the oil companies as a rigger. They also paid for him to get treatment for his drinking and he's become involved in AA. He told me he's been sober now for almost five months. I wasn't sure what to think at first. But I can tell he's completely different. He's nicer, seems more determined to make things right. And he was absolutely incredible with the kids. He brought them presents and spent time with them and took them to the park." "So, what's gonna happen?" I asked. "Does Randy want to have visitation and a relationship with Natalie and Nathan? Is that what this is about?" "That's part of it, Daulton," she sniffed. "But he is also asking for me to give him another chance. Randy told me he still loves me and he's finally figured out how to be happy and not drink. He wants me and the kids to move back in with him and be a family again. The kids were so happy to see him and absolutely fell back in love with their father again. He's finally the man they've always needed him to be." Now it was my turn to be completely uneasy and afraid. "So, like I said, what's gonna happen? Surely you can't be thinking of going back to him, are you? I mean, what about me? What about the time we've spent together?" "I'm just really confused right now, Daulton." I shook my head in disbelief. "Are...are you thinking of leaving me, Darla?" "I don't know," she sobbed. "I'm not sure what to think right now. This wasn't supposed to be happening! I'm not supposed to be feeling this way about Randy!" I didn't want to ask the next question. But I did. "Darla, have you been with Randy since he came back to see you? I mean, sexually?" "Oh, Daulton! I'm so sorry!" I slammed my fists down on the table and got up and walked back to my bedroom and just sat on the bed, my head in my hands. Darla followed me in and tried to hold me and comfort me but I suddenly couldn't bear her touch. "Daulton, please! Just please try to understand! Randy should have done this before I filed for divorce! I wanted to move on! I really did! And I wanted it to be with you!" "When?" I asked. "When what?" "When did you sleep with Randy? And furthermore, did you sleep with him here in my house? Did you disrespect the hell out of me and fuck him in my own goddamned house, Darla?" She gasped in horror. "No! I swear to God no, Daulton! I would never do that! I'm so sorry it happened in the first place! I never meant for it to happen, I swear! It was just some old familiar feeling in me that got stirred up! Randy and I always had a volatile relationship. Sex was the only decent part of our marriage for the longest time, at least when he wasn't blind drunk. For some reason, he seemed so caring and so loving. I just fell for him when we were at his mother's place last weekend and I couldn't help myself. I'm so sorry, Daulton!" "So that was it? Just one time that you and he had sex?" "Yes," she admitted. "But it was different. For the first time in a long time, he was so tender. He was so caring. It felt like we were making love instead of just screwing. I don't know how else to describe it." I was struggling to hold back the tears. "So is that what you want? Another chance with Randy? You're going to throw away the last seven months of our relationship to go back to Randy? In spite of everything he did to you before?" "I don't know, Daulton. I hadn't made a decision yet. He's still my kids' father. And he's so much different than he was before." "Sure. People are different when they're not raging alcoholics, Darla. What the hell do you think is going to happen when he falls off the wagon again?" "He promised he wouldn't do that. He promised to stay sober for me and the kids if we came back." I burst out into hysterical laughing. Darla was suddenly angry. "What the hell is so funny, Daulton? Laughing at me isn't going to help. And it sure as hell isn't going to help me decide whether I want to stay with you instead of Randy!" That was the last straw. "You know what, Darla? It sounds to me like you already made your choice." I opened up the drawers on my dresser and started throwing some clothes in the duffel bag I use for work. "What are you doing, Daulton?" "What does it look like, Darla? I'm packing. I'm gonna call Danny and see if I can crash at his place tonight. That way I won't interrupt you as you're packing your stuff and the kids' stuff." Darla suddenly got an 'Oh-Shit!' look on her face and suddenly realized that everything was starting to get real. "Daulton, please. Let's talk about this some more, okay?" "What the hell else is there to talk about?" I asked, stuffing some pants into my bag. "Obviously, the relationship I thought I was building with you isn't strong enough to keep you from going back to Randy, or at least thinking about it." "I never said I was leaving for sure, Daulton." "No, you didn't, Darla. But that obviously didn't stop you from sleeping with your ex. And the funny thing is, you seem to have forgotten that Randy became your EX for a reason!" "I told you, Daulton. Randy isn't like that anymore." "Well, once you're out of the house, you can find out for yourself, Darla. A leopard doesn't change his damned spots that easily." I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs to the garage. The shitty thing was I had to walk by the family rec room where Natalie and Nathan were still playing Nintendo. I stopped in my tracks and the full pain of Darla's betrayal hit me as I realized that I was not only kicking her out of my house, but also the kids. I had really become attached to them and was becoming the father figure they never had but always needed. I couldn't watch anymore and turned to head out into the garage. "Daulton, please," Darla begged, following me. "Please! Let's just talk about this some more, okay?" "Like I said, Darla. There's nothing more to talk about. You obviously don't love me or, at the very least, you don't love me enough to keep from straying and you obviously still have feelings for Randy. This is a completely unacceptable situation. You've had seven months to figure it out and you obviously still haven't. Apparently all of my friends and family were right. I never should have gotten involved with a woman who was still married. Well, I'll never make THAT mistake twice!" I threw my duffel bag in the front passenger's seat and climbed in. "Daulton! Please, I'm begging you! Come back in the house so we can talk about this some more!" I gripped the steering wheel hard and took a few deep breaths. "I'm gonna go to Danny's place for the night. I'm too pissed off right now to talk about this rationally. My advice to you, Darla, is to take the rest of the night and figure out what the hell you want. I'll be back home tomorrow at noon. If you still want to be with me, we'll talk about it. If you decide you want to give Randy another shot, I'll expect you to be gone by the time I get home."