49 comments/ 196584 views/ 14 favorites No Welcome Home: Before I'll Weep By: JakeRivers "… I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep No, I'll not weep: I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep." Shakespeare King Lear II,iv,278 "Revenge should have no bounds." Shakespeare Hamlet iv,7,128 Author's note. This story is a response to the challenge by The Wanderer in his story "No Welcome Home: Sandra's Story". Please read his story first! Note that I have changed the locale from England to USA. I gave it a stab to try to keep the flavor UK but it got too complex. Some things had to change as a result of this, like Sandra using an airport instead of a train station. The story is complete in this submission. Thanks to Techsan for a quick, responsive edit! He's the best! Thanks for reading, Dynamite Jack I WAS DEAD! I was dead!!! I know that sounds strange – I guess it's an oxymoron: you have to be sentient to know anything and if you are dead you are not sentient. In other words, if I was dead how could I be aware of that? I was having uma bica (an espresso) at Café a Brasileira, the oldest, most famous café in Lisbon, with wooden booths, mirrored walls and a long oak-paneled bar straight out of the 18th century. It is located in Rossio, in the Chiado district. What was really strange is how much I was enjoying looking at the local girls, particularly Maria João, who was walking towards me with a question in her eyes. As she approached I started to ask her if the excitement I felt as I admired her quite charming young body was appropriate for a dead man. I wisely chose not to say anything as she asked "do you want outra bica and are you coming over for dinner tonight." I said, "yes", and "of course." I guess I should back up a little. Before I "died" I was known as Dave Lawrence, loving husband of Sandra, living in Colorado when I died. Now I am William "Billy" Sanderson, expatriate Yank from Colorado living in a comfortable apartment in Lisbon, in the Barrio Alto, on Rua do Norte. I had met Maria about six months ago here at the café. She was 28 at the time. Her Aunt owned the place and she helped out sometimes. She was an anomaly for a girl from Portugal. She was tall, a little over 5'10". She wasn't slim maybe willowy is better. She weighed about 120 pounds, with gentle flowing curves rather than ostentatious ones. Long legs that won't quit – if you've seen Daniela Hantuchova (5'11", 123 pounds) you know what I mean. She had (I guessed at the time) 34B breasts that seemed to have an attitude! Her long legs flowed up into the most hauntingly beautiful ass I had ever seen. She had kind of a dirty blond hair and fair, regular features, with an upturned button nose. She was light skinned with brilliant powder blue eyes with a few freckles around them (later I was to find she had freckles elsewhere). In other words, if you spent some time in Lisbon looking at the local girls and saw her walking toward you, she would stand out! Maria was born on the island of Terceira in the Azores. Her father was an American Tech Sergeant in the Weather Office of the 65th Air Base Wing at Lajes field. Her mother was a local girl and worked in the base library. They met, and, well things happened; marriage and Maria following in short order. The family moved around the world with her dad's duty assignments, until he was killed in a car crash. At the time he was stationed at Pope Air Force Base and Maria was a junior majoring in Marketing with a minor in Literature at Duke University. After her dad died her mom moved to Lisbon to work with her sister at the café while Maria João finished her studies. After graduating she joined her mom in Lisbon working part time at the café and part time with a friend putting together a small agency for writers of romance novels (pulp fiction!), working particularly on translations to and from various languages. After a year she met and married a football player (right half) who played for Sporting Lisbon. After they had a daughter, Catrina, his contract was purchased by Manchester City. Maria and the baby were to follow when he got settled, but he met a dancer and, (short story) he called her and said "don't come!" Maria was pretty broken up about this but after a year she realized that her ex was just a happy jock that would still be a kid when he died! The agency did better than they expected and had signed up a number of writers from the US, Spain, and Portugal, with a couple from France and Ireland. That bought me back to being dead and admiring Maria. She stopped by a couple of times that evening to chat, and when she finished I walked her home. Like I said, I had known her for about six months. I probably would have not gotten anywhere with her, until once over coffee she talked about needing writers for English. She needed translators and was looking for new writers also. I was fluent in Spanish and started translating romance stories from the US and England into Spanish. I told her that I had always wanted to write and thought it might be fun. I showed her the short stories and the one novel I had been working on. So it started. I began with the translations, and then threw in a few romance novels (sheesh!) of my own. Through all of this I started spending more time with Maria João and Catrina. As we walked the few blocks to her apartment she put her arm in mine and we chatted and looked in the Bakery windows for dessert. I was starting to feel pretty good until we stopped by her mom's to pick up Catrina, who was four at this time. As we started climbing the stairs the door opened and this whirling dervish came flying through the air screaming "Billy! Billy!" I hadn't been intimate with Maria but it seemed we were getting close. She was lonely but she was also very protective of her daughter. I fell in love with Catrina the moment I saw her. In my other life (quiet!) we had never had kids… maybe if we had… Anyway I really liked Catrina and she kinda took possession of me. One of the reasons I hadn't gotten further with Maria was because her daughter always seemed to be between us. I grabbed Catrina as I tried to keep from falling down the stairs and started tickling her. She squiggled out of my arms giggling and ran up the stairs to her grandma, Fia. We chatted for a little and then went to Maria's apartment. Maria asked, "could you give Catrina her English lesson while I fix the dinner. We are having Bacalhau à Brás with a nice Vinho Verde with it." I had been working with Catrina for about two months with children's books in English. She loved the stories, and most nights when I was there I would make up a story for her after her mom put her in bed. She would fight to stay awake but always fall asleep after about five minutes. I think this was Maria's secret plan in having me help with her English! While we eating the Cod and enjoying the green wine, Maria looked at me seriously for a minute and said "we need to talk after Catrina goes to sleep." I thought "Oh God! What did I do now?" I finished the meal with some trepidation but no idea what she wanted to talk about. We sat around drinking coffee and enjoying a very nice vintage Tawny Port for a while as Catrina played with her toys. Maria got her daughter ready for bed and started cleaning up the kitchen while I told Catrina her story. I was sitting on the sofa sipping another small port when Maria came in. "Can I sit down with you?" she quietly asked. I opened my arms and she slipped into them as she sat on my lap. Not knowing what was going on I sat there without moving, with my arms around her. After a minute I could see her shoulders gently shaking. I lifted up her chin and stared into her eyes. She was crying! "Maria, what's wrong!" With that she started sobbing. I just helplessly held her and waited for her to calm down. After a bit she looked up and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. She looked at me for a minute, quietly, and then buried her face in my shoulder. With a muffled voice, she whispered, "Billy, I know you care for me! And the way you are with Catrina has been priceless for me. No, don't say anything yet!" "I'm lonely," she whispered. "I want you, I want to be with you! Neither of us has said anything but I think God wants us to be together. You are the answer to my prayers for myself and Catrina." "Maria…" "No, wait! Let me finish. I'm so happy with you but I haven't been honest." With that she started sobbing again. After a bit she continued "I've told you about Paulo, my ex husband. Billy, I'm Catholic! You know that. I can't get a divorce and I can't marry you!" She slid to the floor and her body just shook with her crying. Stunned, I sat there for a minute. Marriage! Shit I hadn't said anything about that. I mean, Christ! I'm dead! I can't marry anyone! After a while Maria quieted down and fell in a restless sleep. Looking at her I didn't know what to do. Finally I picked her up and carried her into her bedroom and lay her down. I dampened a washcloth and gently bathed her face. She twisted restlessly but didn't wake up. I didn't know what to do! Finally I realized I would have to put her to bed. I got a gown from her dresser and gently took her clothes off. I started to put her nightgown on and I just froze as I looked at her. To me she looked like a goddess. Her skin was perfect with just a sprinkling of freckles around her breasts and on her stomach. Her breasts were just perfect. Even lying on her back there was not a hint of sagging. The nipples were large, a lovely dark pink, and erect. Looking down I realized her nipples were not the only thing that was erect! I was dead, sure, but it certainly seemed like I was coming back to life. I hadn't been thinking about marriage, but suddenly it seemed like a damn fine idea. Then I did the hardest thing I had ever done in either of my lives, I put her gown on, careful not to awaken her. I covered her up and not wanting to leave her alone like that, I lay on the top of the sheet, next to her. It took me awhile to get to sleep and I started replaying what had happened. I had not really thought about the problems of marriage. Her problem was easy, that's just religion! Mine, jeez! I have a wife in jail, probably for life. If I were to try for a divorce, then obviously I wouldn't be dead anymore. If I loved a woman enough to marry her, how could I live a lie and be a bigamist. Life sure is complicated when you are dead! I woke in the first faint light of dawn to see Maria setting in bed staring at me. Blushing violently, she asked "Billy, how did I get in bed with my gown on?" I looked at her for a minute; she was softly lovely in the early morning light. "Maria, you fell asleep on the floor. I carried you in and laid you on the bed. I was going to go to my apartment, but I couldn't leave you like that. I put your gown on and covered you up. I lay down because I just didn't know what else to do." Damned if I was going to tell her there was five minutes between undressing her and putting her gown on! She seemed to blush even more. I swear I could see the freckles multiplying through the thin gauze of her gown. Embarrassed, she lay beside me and hid her face in my shoulder again. Christ, this was getting to be a habit… not that I minded of course. After a few minutes, maybe ten, I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. "Maria, it's my turn to talk. Just hush for a bit and let me talk now." I turned her head and gently brushed my lips against hers. Startled, I pulled back and had an epiphany! Jesus, God! I did love her. With all my being I did love her! Maria lay there looking up at me with a curious smile on her face. I kissed that lovely little smile, no brush now! I pulled her tighter and teased her lips open with my tongue. She lay, not moving, with her eyes closed. Suddenly she pulled back, opened her beautiful blue eyes, and looked deep into mine! She saw something, for she suddenly she jumped up and lay on top of me violently kissing me. She gasped "Oh Billy! Oh Billy! God I've been so lonely. Love me. Make love to me, even if it's just for now." I moved both of my hands on her back rubbing up and down, calming her. After a bit I pulled her nightgown up and slid my hands down to her buttocks and pulled her tight to me. I very slowly, and gently, moved my finger down the crack between her soft, soft cheeks, not penetrating, but pausing for a bit on her rosette on each pass while I started kissing her deeply. After about five minutes of this she suddenly spasmed, shaking violently, and was quiet. I lay still and realized she was crying again, but as she looked up, I saw it was "cry for happy." "Billy, I don't care what happens, I love you! I just want to live with you, love you. I need you. Catrina needs you. Love me now, please!" I turned her over and slid her gown off. If the full dawn light she was so lovely! I just stared - time stopped. I licked around her right nipple, not touching it. Finally grasping her nipple with my lips I pulled it taut and teased it. Letting it go I breathed on her breast "I love you!" I repeated with her left breast, adoring it, making love to it for fully five minutes. Again, I breathed into her breast, "I love you!" I moved lower, loving her stomach kissing her navel. Finally, I slipped down between her legs, and kissed her lower lips with mine. Maria gasped, and muttered, "Billy, no one has ever done that to me!" Ignoring her, I licked, invaded with my tongue, teased with my lips until finally she started shaking and crying out, "Billy! Billy, God Billy!" I let her rest for a minute and then mounted and shared "the greatest gift." We loved one another until we heard Catrina moving in her room. Looking at me, she said, "Billy, we have to talk!" But this time she had a smile on her face. We had our talk, and a few weeks later I moved in with her. After a time I became a Portuguese citizen and adopted Catrina. I started working with her and her partner in her agency. I stopped doing translations and focused on writing romance novels and was almost too successful! I used a nom de plume, a name you would well recognize: a woman's name! After a couple of years, we brought a nice apartment in Cascais, four or five blocks from the sea. We never again mentioned marriage, but frequently talked of our love. I was happy as never before! My time of darkness, my time of death was over, I was alive! The end. Not! SHIT HAPPENS! Oh yeah! I bet you are wondering how I died! It seems a lifetime ago, some of the details I've forgotten. Some of the rage has left, some! I no longer think much about Sandra. She may or may not still be in prison. I don't really give a shit! It wouldn't bother me if she were released. It wouldn't bother me if she rotted in jail. I've never cared enough to find out. I'm happy as long as the bitch stays out of my life. What I remember most is the white-hot anger that overwhelmed me when I saw the email messages. I wasn't looking for them. I wasn't concerned about anything. I had a happy marriage. Somehow I got a virus on the PC and had to reinstall some of the applications. The biggest problem seemed to be the email system. Before I uninstalled it I copied the email archive file to a Zip disk and then reinstalled the email software. In doing this, I of course wiped out any existing passwords, so it was left with the blank, default password. I made a mental note to let Sandra know what I'd done. I installed the software and reloaded the email archive. I decided I'd better check and make sure everything was working – everything else seemed to be okay now, so it seemed this would fix the problem. My email came up okay, great so far. I pondered for a minute and decided I'd better check Sandra's email also. She gets real bitchy when the computer doesn't work right! The way the blank password works is that you have to change it before you can use the software for the first time. I figured I'd just reinstall the software again after I checked everything out. Otherwise she would bitch at me. So I entered a password and opened her email. And I started dying! The headers were certainly catchy. The dialog between this jerk Andrew and Sandra was hot! The pictures were even hotter! Hottest of all was my anger… a burning, vicious, killing anger! I couldn't breathe for a minute. I ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and heaved, trying to breathe. Suddenly I ran into the toilet area and really heaved! I felt like my guts were coming out. I went into my office and poured a small glass of Oban and gulped it down. Then a bigger one. Then another one. I finally calmed down. I stopped drinking. I started breathing. I started thinking. My anger had coalesced into a tight, hard ball where my heart used to be. It felt like a cancer, eating away, destroying me from the inside. It took years, and a beautiful four-year-old girl before this cancer in my heart started to dissolve! Christ, I hated her! Christ, I hated him! I focused on my hate. "Let that keep me going," I resolved. I was smart. I had a good imagination. My dad had always told me that when bad times come, "and they will" he said, "don't give in to your weaknesses, and stand on your strengths." I never asked him what had happened to him that he felt he had to tell me this over and over, but by God I listened and I heard him. And I remembered. My strength is my writing. I write novels. Sometimes I write crime novels, and/or detective and/or murder but always a mystery. I was successful. I was well known. I researched. I talked to cops. I talked to cons. I talked to judges, reporters, and victims. I knew a lot of people. I met a con at the Colorado Territorial Prison in Canon City a few years ago. I did him some favors (cigarettes, helping his son out of a jam, etc) for taking the time to talk with me, helping me to solve a plot problem. A few years later he was released. I helped him get a job. I did him a few more favors. I occasionally paid him for research. He walked the walk, he talked the talk! He added veracity to my stories. He added money to my bank account. Now, in my time of need, real need, I remembered Glenn. I drove down to see him, picked up a couple of cases of cold brews on the way, and said Glenn, "I need to die. Actually, I need to have my wife and her asshole buddy (really! I saw the photos!) murder me. And they need to be caught. And they need to go to jail." I told him the whole story and asked him for help! We treated it like a new idea for a novel (and someday I might write it – under a different nom de plume, of course!). I lay out a storyboard. We covered all the details. Anyone watching us would think we were plotting to rob Fort Knox. So this is what we did. We planned everything to happen when she went on her next seminar. I went back to Evergreen, a fantastically beautiful place in the foothills west of Denver. I became the most loving husband. Sandra was puzzled at times, but I just "loved" her and kept on with my writing. Every time we made love I had a fantasy of choking her as she came. Gradually the sex got a little rougher, instead of complaining she seemed to enjoy it more. She was happier every day and I died a little each day. She became a piece of meat to me. I used her. But then she had been using me for years. I told her about the computer problem. Of how I reinstalled the software and it would have a blank password. I made sure she knew she would have to enter a password before she could check her email, the lying, cheating bitch! No Welcome Home: Before I'll Weep Meanwhile I got smart. She was changing her password regularly, but all I had to do was copy her email archive file to my laptop and fire it up. I tracked her email every day. Andrew sent her a message asking if I ever noticed anything. She replied: "No, if anything he is even more loving." "God, what a fucking wimp he is!" Andrew sent back. "Yeah, but he's my wimp. I do love him. But I also love to fuck you. He is so caught up in his writing that the only way he would notice anything is if he wrote it himself!" "Wimp my ass" I thought. One of my favorite cliches is "he who laughs last, last laughs." Three months later, it was time for her next seminar, this time in San Antonio. She was going for the usual five days. She was also going to hell, for eternity, but she didn't know that yet! Yeah, I know. You think I'm a vindictive SOB. Damn straight! Was I weeping? "You think I'll weep No, I'll not weep: I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep." Hell no I wasn't weeping! IT'S TIME TO DIE! All the planning Glenn and I had done broke into three main parts that had to merge together perfectly: -How to kill me -How to get me reborn -How to send the sinners to hell! Everything was in place; now it was time to act! The first problem was money. I had to leave totally transparently. I couldn't take anything with me except the clothes I would have on. I had a commission check I'd been holding on to. As soon as Sandra left I went to the bank and deposited the check, a little over twenty grand. I kept out about $2500, typical for ongoing expense funds. This would get me started – most of that money could disappear with me. It wasn't near what I needed though. Sandra had some heirloom jewelry she had inherited from her grandmother. I don't know the current value, but when we had them assessed for insurance several years ago, they came out at spot on a quarter mil! They were too valuable to keep in the house (and too old fashioned for darling Sandra to wear) so we kept them in a large safety deposit box at the bank. They were kept in a lock box within the safety deposit box. Both keys were kept in our safe at home. While she was still on her previous, infamous trip I went to the bank and took the jewelry out and left a large envelope filled with last years tax papers in the front of the box. I gave the jewelry to Glenn to dispose of. He got just under a hundred grand for it. I gave him ten grand for his help and hoped the rest would last me long enough for the expenses involved with my death and enough to live on for a year or so. I kept out a beautiful emerald brooch worth around five grand. I would use this later. A couple of days after Sandra got back from San Antonio I caught her just as she was leaving for work. "Babe, could you do me a favor? I have an envelope with tax papers in the bank vault that I need. Could you run over during lunch and pick it up for me?" "Sure honey, could you grab the key for me?" "It's right here – I got it out of the safe while you were taking your shower. Thanks a million, I'll give you a back rub tonight to thank you." "Oh! I can hardly wait – will you wait hard-ly?" she laughed. Without the key to the lockbox she wouldn't be able to look at the jewelry… not that she would have any reason to view it. The last time the lock box had been opened was when we had all the pieces appraised. Now she was on record as the last one to use the safety deposit box. The tax papers I left in my file cabinet at home – ready for anyone that cared to look at if she even remembered picking them up. Next I needed documentation… I knew this was going to be expensive. Glenn had another "friend." This guy had worked in the documentation section of the CIA for over thirty years. He was essentially paid to forge documents: everything an agent would need to get into a foreign country. I didn't need that much. I talked it over with Glenn and we figured on a passport (well used), drivers license, car insurance card (with insurance in force if anyone asked), International Drivers License, VISA and AMEX cards, bank Letter of Credit… you get the picture. This was going to cost me $10,000 if I could wait six months or for $20,000 I could get them in six weeks. I could not wait six months! I had letters from my new agent about a romance novel done under my new name. I had a manuscript almost ready for editing. We started the messy business of killing me. First we needed blood. Glenn knew a guy that had worked in the infirmary at the State Prison. We met in a back room of a bar in Trinidad, south of Denver almost to the New Mexico line. He took about a dozen vials of my blood and put them in a cooler with ice. I put some blood in the trunk of her car and then did a half-assed job of trying to clean it up. I put a couple of drops of blood in the corner of the trunk along with some fuzz from a burlap bag. I stuck a couple of hairs from my head on the blood while it was still moist. I also put blood on the laundry room throw rug leading to the garage. This I half-ass cleaned up. I added a few drops underneath the rear bumper of the car. Glenn got a shovel from Andrew's shed and left it in my shed. Again, I put some blood on it and did a little better job of cleaning it off. But not perfect! In the middle of the night, Glenn picked the lock at Andrews's apartment and we went in. I got some hairs from Andrew's brush to put in my brush at home and a couple to put under the pillow in our master bedroom. I carefully got an empty beer can from his trash to put in our kitchen trash. I got lucky and found a tied off condom in the wastebasket in his bathroom. That got thrown behind our toilet bowl in our bath. It would take a good cleaning to spot it… or a good search! Finally I took the emerald brooch, and wrapping in one of his handkerchiefs, put it in the bottom drawer of his armoire beneath some of his sweaters. Glenn had gotten a cell phone in Andrew's name and I used that to call her hotel. I knew he was not taking his car because Sandra's company always provided limo service for the airport. I took (and later replaced) the key to his locker at Cherry Chase Country Club where he belonged. I went to the club for lunch and then wandered into the locker room. No one was around so I left the cell phone in his locker. Of course Glenn and I were both very careful to leave no signs of our passing presence. The night before Sandra left I had arranged for Glenn to pick up Sandra's car and drive it down to Denver and back. On the stretch of I-70 comings down from the foothills they have one of those new photo radar detectors. The radar picks up anyone going down the hill more than 10 miles over the limit and snaps a picture of the license plate. It's on trial and it's not clear whether it was legal or not, but we didn't care. We just wanted to place her car there at an early morning hour. Starting from a few days before Sandra left I was careful to leave no footprints, such as reading my email when I was supposed to be dead. I left my billfold with everything in it in the silver tray in the drawer of my dresser where I always left it. There was a little over six hundred dollars in it – about the usual amount. Not wanting to leave my usual mess, I ate out, but no more fast food! I just stopped. Quit. I didn't have any coffee, tea, beer, taking nothing in what I did not consider to be my home anymore. In fact, I cut out hard liquor – I needed to stay sharp and not make any mistakes. I was staying with Glenn and driving back and forth. Hell, I didn't even take a piss in the house. I didn't go to any of my usual hangouts, not my favorite bars, restaurants. I stayed away from anywhere I might run into a friend. All my visits to the house were late at night and I parked Glenn's car at least a block away. I got a new prescription for my blood pressure and cholesterol medicine from the same guy that drew my blood – I renewed over the internet in my new name and had them sent to Glenn's address. I didn't go to any local grocery stores and drugstores. I was as close to invisible as possible. I was leaving a lot, a bunch of money, a way of life I enjoyed, and a few friends I would miss. Thankfully there wasn't much family left. My sister was living in Boston and I just saw every other year or so. She would miss me, but with the kids, her husband and her job she would be okay. I left about $600,000 in cash or near cash in various checking, savings and money market accounts. My IRA was probably around a half mil. The house in Evergreen had about $700,000 in equity. Most of all I left my career as a crime writer. I was good at it. I made tons of money from it. I had four novels under contract, two of which I had already received advances for. One of those was in the editing process and would be published in a couple of months. I left the my car in the garage, my lovely silver BMW coupe, "The M6." It sure looked like I was going to miss my Beemer more than I would Sandra! I wish I had kids to leave all this to, but if I had kids I wouldn't have done it this way. Sure, I would have thrown her sorry ass out, but I would have lost this precious revenge. Every day since Glenn and I had started planning this, especially on those nights after we mated (I never made love to her again after seeing those emails) I pulled my revenge out and caressed it. I petted it. I loved it. It was literally precious to me. Was I vindictive? You bet your sweet ass I was! Finally it was time for lights out… time to die. Glenn drove me down to Albuquerque where I gave him a big hug and said goodbye. I caught a bus to El Paso. All my documentation looked used as appropriate. My luggage was even more used. At El Paso I filled the luggage up with new clothes – totally different brands and styles down to shoes, socks and underwear. Then I took a Taxi into Juarez. I caught another bus to Mexico City. There I took a plane to Buenos Aires. I stayed there for a week decompressing and enjoying some excellent food and wine. I got my hair restyled and a more modern look for my eyeglass frames. I then took a different airline to Madrid and on to Lisbon by train. I settled into a nice apartment. I joined a local sports club and started exercising. I really cleaned up my eating habits… as I said I had cut out fast food cold turkey. I lost twenty pounds in the first four months. It didn't take long before both my blood pressure and cholesterol were down and I could stop taking the pills. As I lost weight I gradually replaced my clothes with a more European look. I had always looked down on Romance novels, but I knew I was going to have to start earning some money. I was fluent in Spanish so I started reading all the pulp fiction romance stuff in both English and Spanish I could find. I started lining out some story ideas. I wrote a few short stories and then picked up the manuscript I had brought with me. I reworked it based on my readings and started looking for a publisher. You know what happened with Maria João. I love her very much and totally adore Catrina. I'm picking up Portuguese quicker than I thought I would be able to. Life is good! Oh! And my "loving wife" Sandra? Would I ever cry over her? Nah! I don't think so! Thanks for reading this story – I appreciate all comments, and will always try to respond to emails. Thanks to "The Wanderer" for his challenge. It's always fun to put yourself inside someone else's head and try to imagine what they would have wrote. He still might write "No Welcome Home: Dave's Story" and we can find out! For those of you who are reconciliation fans, sorry! Given what Sandra and done and Dave's response it just seemed pretty hopeless. I couldn't see Sandra getting out of jail 20 years later and bumping into Dave who suddenly missed his former life and wife; meeting again and having a joyful reunion