92 comments/ 35208 views/ 53 favorites The Ghost of Red River Falls By: soldierboy50401 For more information on 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 A Sheriff Pat Quinn Spin-off Story In hindsight, it should have been my first and biggest clue. By the end of the weekend, she had more pictures taken of her with them than she did anybody else, including me. And definitely way more photos were taken of them than were taken of her, me and my own parents. But of all the photos that were taken it was the ones taken of her and them while she was holding a photo of him that probably bothered me the most. You probably have absolutely no clue who I am talking about. When I mention she or her I am talking about my lovely bride, Wendy. When I mention them, I am talking about her previouss, Ed and Joanne Parmelly. And when I mention him, I am talking about my new bride's first husband, Kevin. And the pictures I am speaking of were all taken on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, my and Wendy's wedding day. Kevin and Wendy were the typical high school sweethearts who stayed together through college at Bemidji State University and eventually married. They had what most people would call a storybook and idyllic marriage, sharing a love that grew deeper and more intense daily. They were the absolute envy of everyone they knew and had the type of relationship that the Hallmark Channel absolutely would drool over the movie rights for. Kevin was truly the epitome of the All-American boy. He had excelled at everything he had chosen to do. He was the quintessential four-star athlete in high school and was captain of every team he participated in - football, ice hockey, track and baseball. Kevin was a big fish in a little pond while in high school in Red River Falls but also excelled when playing hockey at Bemidji State. He was one of the most feared forwards ever to play for the Beavers. If Kevin was the All-American boy, Wendy was equally the All-American girl. She was athletic just like Kevin and shunned cheerleading for a position as a goaltender on the Bemidji State women's hockey team. In fact, she set a school record her senior season for fewest goals allowed and helped the team get to the Women's Frozen Four, where they were eventually defeated by Boston College. The standing joke amongst Bemidji State students was that the only person who could score with Wendy Davis was Kevin Parmelly! Kevin graduated with a degree in Business Administration with an emphasis in finance and returned to Red River Falls to take a position as a personal banker and financial planner with Wells Fargo. Wendy received a degree from Bemidji State in Modern Languages with an emphasis in Spanish. She taught Spanish full-time to freshmen and sophomores at Red River Falls Community College and also taught English as a Second Language courses to Red River Falls' growing Hispanic community. Both Wendy and Kevin were extremely well-liked and adored as a couple, the absolute envy of everyone they knew. Life had absolutely nothing but the most amazing adventures and experiences in store for those two. You just knew it. But fate can be cruel, as we all know. Wendy and Kevin had been married for a little over two years when Kevin began experiencing a number of health problems. It started as a series of colds and other infections that took him a ridiculously long time and copious amounts of various medications to get rid of. Sooner, rather than later, another cold or flu bug would hit and would put Kevin down for the count even longer than the previous illness. No one could understand how a man in excellent health and physical condition like Kevin could suddenly seem so vulnerable to illness. Finally, his physician ordered Kevin to be hospitalized and they ran a battery of tests to try and come up with the answers. Physical appearance-wise, Kevin looked almost the same. He hadn't really lost much weight or muscle mass; he just couldn't seem to stay well. Finally, the doctors at Holy Family Medical Center discovered the horrifying answer to what was causing his illnesses - cancer. And not just any cancer but pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer can often have the extremely cruel effect of giving a person the appearance of being in good health while making them extremely miserable and sick at the same time. Basically, you can actually look pretty good even though you are dying. Pancreatic cancer has a mortality rate of nearly 95% within five years. By the time a person even begins showing symptoms, the cancer is often already at an advanced stage and has begun to actively spread to the rest of the body. A PET scan soon revealed the worst - Kevin had cancerous spots on his brain, his lungs, his liver, his spine and his kidneys. All of this had been discovered even before Kevin had a chance to start his first round of chemotherapy. The doctors at Holy Family Medical Center in Red River Falls immediately shipped Kevin off to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The disease was halted briefly and Kevin actually seemed to make some progress. But hope turned to despair once again after Kevin finished his last round of chemotherapy. A new PET scan revealed signs of cancer in his lymph nodes and bone marrow. Despite the best care possible, Kevin's health continued to deteriorate. He died three days before their third wedding anniversary. To say that Wendy was devastated would be a gross understatement. The disappearance of the dreams and aspirations that she and Kevin shared was equal to the pain that most people endure with the loss of a child. Wendy stated eloquently that when she saw Kevin in his casket for the final time, she saw not just Kevin but also the souls of generations of people who will never exist because Kevin is no longer here. She thought of the children and grandchildren they would never have and those thoughts multiplied the pain and anguish she was feeling exponentially. It took her a good six months before she felt good enough to return to work and it was another six months before she even seemed to resemble the person she was when Kevin was still living. Copious amounts of counseling and grief therapy had helped her get through the worst of it but she still cried herself to sleep, clutching a picture of Kevin in her arms nearly every night. Ed and Joanne Parmelly were equally devastated by the loss of their oldest son. Despite the fact that the Parmellys were blessed with four other amazing children - Greg, Bobby, Melinda and Nate - they could not seem to get over the death of their favorite son. As a result, Ed and Joanne continued to dote love and affection on Wendy. They invited her to every family gathering and treated her as the guest of honor. Ed Parmelly did everything he could to try and keep Kevin's spirit alive in their family. Kevin was all that Ed ever talked about - his sports achievements, the life he would have had with Wendy, what an amazing businessman Kevin was turning out to be before he died. People began to suspect that the rest of the Parmelly's children couldn't help but resent the fact that their parents, especially Ed, still spent so much time romanticizing the life of Kevin while seemingly ignoring their own. So great was the depth of their pain, I surmised, that they were unable to experience the joy and gifts they had with their other four children. Greg and Bobby were only a year apart in age and seemed like the best of friends. I could only assume they found in the brotherhood they shared that which they were missing in the form of attention they should have received from their parents. But they, too, idolized their older brother and often shared in building upon the image everyone had of Kevin. Even in death, Kevin seemed to have grown bigger in stature than he held in life. Melinda, their only daughter, was nothing less than a beauty queen. Whereas Kevin, Greg and Bobby were all stereotypical athletes, Melinda was something of a diva. Almost a tragic beauty in some way, she had a slightly dignified air about her that was almost reminiscent of the poise expected of Miss America or Miss Universe. The youngest son, Nate, was what I call an urban cowboy. He loved his Western style of clothing with western cut flannel shirts, overly tight-fitting Wrangler jeans, and was never seen without his favorite pair of well-worn Justin boots. He also had a black Stetson that he wore often. He was the furthest thing from a cowboy in occupation, however. He actually had a job as the auditorium and stage manager for Red River Falls Community College. I would have never thought you could get a full-time gig for something like that but Nate had. Moreover, Nate also had a degree in Fine Arts with an emphasis in theater from Macalester College in the Twin Cities. No, it never occurred to me to pay attention to some of the signs on the day of my wedding that I now look back and see as such ominous portents of the hell my life would become. While it may not be physically possible to be cuckolded by a dead man, what I would ultimately experience would be a close second. My name is Jack Fitzgerald. I was a Lieutenant with the Red River Falls Fire Department when I married Wendy Parmelly. I had wanted to be a firefighter ever since I was in kindergarten and our class got to take a tour of the fire station for Fire Prevention Week. I was totally hooked. I graduated from Red River Falls High School about seven years before Wendy and Kevin. My post-high school pursuits led me to St. Cloud State University where I pursued a degree in Public Safety Administration with a double major in Fire Science. I also took the training for and became certified as a Nationally Registered EMT-Paramedic. As soon as I graduated from St. Cloud State, I took the written test and physical agility test with the Red River Falls Fire Department and successfully passed both. I was number one on the list of qualified candidates and was offered a position as a Probationary Firefighter when the next opening became available. Red River Falls Community College recently started offering classes for students who wished to pursue an Associate's Degree in Fire Science. I, along with several other fire instructors from RRFFD, served as the faculty for the program. I was the lead instructor for the Fire Science 215 class, International Building and Fire Codes. It was while teaching that class that I met Wendy Parmelly. I was absolutely awestruck when I met her. I couldn't get over her amazing flame-red hair, her penetrating aquamarine eyes, and the millions of freckles that seemed to dot her face and arms. I'm a total sucker for girls with freckles. Wendy didn't seem to smile much. But when she did, it was a million dollar smile. She was tall, around 5'9", and had a very trim and athletic body. I was extremely hesitant about asking her for a date. An English instructor at RRFCC had clued me into Wendy's past and what had happened to her husband. The thought of what she had to endure with being a widow at such a young age was painful, even for me. I saw her nearly every day at the college. One particular day she and I actually made eye contact and I simply offered her a smile and a wave. To my joy, she returned both. No words were spoken between us that day but I was literally on cloud nine for days afterwards. Suddenly, Wendy consumed my thoughts and I couldn't get her out of my head. We passed each other coming and going often at the college and for weeks all we did was trade smiles and waves from a distance. Knowing what I knew about her past, though, I definitely couldn't take a fast approach or the direct approach. I knew that I would get shot down immediately. Luckily, I didn't have to. I didn't generally eat at the college cafeteria but one particular day I was pressed for time. Often times the class I was teaching at the college fell on days I was scheduled to work my regular shift at the fire department. So on those days, I was under the gun to teach and get my butt back to work. To my astonishment, Wendy herself made the first move and sat down across from me while I was munching on a pork tenderloin. She reached across the table and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Wendy Parmelly." I gingerly reached out and returned the handshake. "I see you in passing all the time but we've never had a chance to formally meet." I tried to be as mannerly as I could because she caught me with a mouthful of food just as she sat down. "I'm Jack Fitzgerald," I said as soon as I had swallowed. It was a wonder I hadn't choked. We exchanged pleasantries and polite conversation while we both finished our lunch. I was so enamored with her that before I even knew what hit me, almost two hours had passed and I was extremely late in getting back to the fire station to finish my shift. I knew my captain was going to be extremely pissed at my tardiness but I totally didn't care as Wendy and I had exchanged phone numbers and promises to meet up for coffee in the near future. It was definitely worth the ass chewing! We took it very, very slow. Almost all of our dates at the beginning were during the daytime and were usually to public places - the mall, our one and only museum, various restaurants for lunches, lots of bike rides and trail hikes, and movie matinees. Wendy was very forthcoming when talking about Kevin and, oftentimes, I would let her cry out her frustrations at having the life she dreamed of with Kevin taken from her. We had been doing our version of casual dating nearly four months before Wendy eventually let me kiss her good night after an evening with dinner and a movie. I walked her up to the front of the small bungalow that she and Kevin bought as their starter home, held her hands in mine, and leaned in for a gentle but heartfelt good night kiss. I promised myself that I wouldn't even begin to think about having a sexual relationship with Wendy until she was good and ready and resigned myself, with no hesitation, that I would wait until we were married, if I was fortunate enough to get to that point. Wendy and I had been dating for nearly a year before either of us brought up the topic of getting married. I started the conversation by simply asking if she saw herself getting married again and moving on. She said yes. Much to my surprise, she furthered the conversation by stating that she thought she could see herself with me in her future, too. Needless to say, my heart exploded with joy at hearing those words. From that moment on, our relationship began to deepen. She would still talk about Kevin a lot and her previous life with him. But instead of the conversation turning into an emotional maelstrom, she seemed like she was to the point where she could think of him and smile while knowing that she was still a young and vibrant woman with a future ahead of her. We continued dating for another six months before I felt that I was comfortable enough to pop the question. At that point, it was three-and-a-half years after Kevin's passing. I asked her to marry me at one of our favorite parks overlooking the Red River Valley. Wendy said 'yes' immediately and I was immensely happy. But shortly after agreeing to marry me, Wendy had a couple of requests. First, she wanted me to formally ask her father Mike for her hand in marriage. And, second, she asked me to please speak with Kevin's parents, Ed and Joanne, for their blessing as well. Asking Mike Hasseman, Wendy's father, for permission to marry his daughter was a piece of cake. I had really hit it off with Wendy's parents, Mike and Christie, when I had first met them. But I had definitely NOT hit it off when I met Ed and Joanne for the first time. Or any other time after that, for that matter. To say that they were cool and icy to me would be like saying the North Pole has a slight chill in the air. It was clear that they saw me as an interloper and potentially the man who would erase the life Wendy and Kevin had shared. That was certainly not my intention in any way, shape or form. I did my best to ingratiate myself to them but all I can say is that they were cordial, and reluctantly so, at best. They did little to get to know me at the various social functions we went to, either at Mike and Christie's house, or at the Parmelly's, to which Wendy was always invited. I seemed to get along okay with Greg, Bobby and Melinda. Nate, the youngest of the Parmelly clan, was the most difficult to read. He always looked at me with some kind of goofy smirk, like he was in on a joke that everyone else was telling behind my back. I couldn't help but sense that Ed and Joann Parmelly hoped that somehow Nate would come in and sweep Wendy off her feet and restore her place in the Parmelly family. When I showed up that fateful night at the Parmelly house to ask for their blessing for Wendy and me, Ed Parmelly looked as though someone had just shot him in the stomach. Neither Ed nor Joanne said a word at first, just stunned silence. Ed rose slowly from his chair, went upstairs and went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Joanne tried to compose herself and simply said, "It's nothing against you, Jack. You seem like an awfully nice man. We just want what's best for Wendy, that's all." I had absolutely ZERO idea of how to take her response. When I saw Wendy the next day, she asked me how it went. I struggled with what to say to her, so I just said, "Ed and Joanne want you to be happy." It wasn't exactly a lie but Wendy was ecstatic. All of that led to our big wedding day, the day that should have been the happiest of my life. We followed tradition and didn't have the pictures taken until after the wedding was over and before the reception. I should have known something was up from all of the pictures Wendy had taken of herself with Ed and Joanne. Add to that the fact that Ed was also in a tuxedo, almost like he was the father of the bride. The weird part was that Mike and Christie Hasseman, her parents, didn't seem to mind in the least. I quickly began to feel like the third wheel at my own wedding. I got the first dance with Wendy, which was amazing. I felt like our bodies could melt into each other and, for a few brief moments, it felt like we were alone in a universe of two. Soon, the father-bride/mother-son dance came along and Wendy danced with Mike while I shared a dance with my wonderful mother, Sandra. My father, Jim, watched from his seat and beamed with pride. He would share the next dance with Wendy. But I couldn't believe it when the next dance was announced that it would be a very special dance shared only by Wendy and Ed Parmelly. I couldn't help but feel embarrassed that I was stuck watching my new bride dance with the father of her deceased first husband. I also felt like an asshole for feeling that way. Ed and Wendy were obviously having an intimate conversation while dancing and they both had tears in their eyes. Over the next three hours, I got to dance with my new bride twice and was cut in both times by none other than Ed Parmelly. The only reason I even let him was because I was too big of a puss to make a scene at my own wedding. Finally, the reception and dance came to an end and Wendy and I were able to retreat from the banquet room to our private suite for the night. I was nervous as hell knowing that we were about to finally consummate our marriage and love for one another. It would be the chance to finally put all of the frustrations of the wedding and reception behind us and truly express our love for one another. The Ghost of Red River Falls Wendy came out of the bathroom dressed only in a one-piece bright white teddy that looked absolutely amazing! I've never physically drooled over a woman before, even during the horniest periods of my teenage years. But the vision standing before me was none other than the absolute perfection of the female form. Her blazing red hair seemed to glow as she let it hang in a free fall down her back and shoulders. She tried to be confident but was clearly just as nervous as I was. She led me to our bed by the hand. I was dressed only in boxers. I initially intended to leave the bedside lamps on. I wanted to be able to see the woman I was making love to for the first time. But Wendy insisted on turning off the lights. We wasted very little time on foreplay. Wendy took the lead in ridding herself of the barely-there thong that passed for her underwear while quickly doffing my own boxers as well. My cock was so rock-hard that I was almost embarrassed by it - as though she would think of me as boyish for getting so worked up over sex. We kissed deeply and passionately for a while before she finally had me get on my back and she mounted me cowgirl style. It all seemed to be sudden and fast but I hoped that it was only the first of many couplings we would share that night. My rigid member slid easily into her. She paused briefly, closed her eyes and said, "Oh, yesssss!" She established a slow methodical rhythm. It was obvious that this was the position she was most comfortable with and she began to steadily rock herself to a gentle first orgasm. I could barely make out her lithe form in the darkness. What I couldn't see my imagination made up for. It was all I could do to concentrate on pleasing my new wife and not blow it. Surprisingly, even though it had been several years since I had been with a woman myself, I did an amazing job of not blowing it too soon. Wendy started getting more and more into it and she threw her head back as another orgasm crept upon her, this one more powerful than the first. She lurched forward, slapping her hands on my chest to brace herself. She was mumbling under her breath and I could barely make out what she was saying - at first. "Oh, god! Yes! You make me feel so good! No one makes me feel like you do," she whispered breathlessly. I picked up the rhythm and started to pound my rock hard tool into her even harder. Her body responded immediately and she was soon in the throes of the most powerful orgasm of the night. And then, my world collapsed. "Oh, my god! You are so amazing! Oh, I love the way you make me feel, Kevin!" I stopped thrusting almost immediately as my brain processed what she had just said. I lay there, nearly out of breath myself, but from an equal amount of shock as much as sexual fervency. "What? What's the matter, babe? Why did you stop?" she asked, obviously eager to get back to what we were doing. "Did...did...you just...call me...Kevin?" I stuttered. "What? Why would...no! God, no! Why would I do that?" I reached over and turned the light on. Wendy's face had a very light sheen of sweat built up on it. "Yes, you did. You did call me Kevin. Is that why you wanted to keep the lights off? So you could think of Kevin while we were making love for the first time?" "God, no! Why would you think that? And why would you just stop in the middle? I mean, I was almost there, Kev!" "Jesus! You just did it again!" "I...uh...God! Now you're confusing me with all this talk of Kevin! I can assure you I didn't call you Kevin! I know who I'm with now, Jack!" She rolled off of me and lay next to me on the hotel bed. "God, Jack! Thanks for ruining our consummation!" Uh-oh. She was really pissed. Hell hath no fury like a woman denied an orgasm. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know what I heard. Maybe you didn't mean to say it, but you did. And I will always go out of my way to be sensitive of your first marriage because you both deserve it. But I also gotta know that I'm gonna be first in your life, too." "You are, Jack, you really are. I'm not sure why you thought I said Kevin's name. But I can understand why it would bother you." She turned towards me on the bed and snuggled up to me. "Look, it has been a really long week leading up to today and an incredibly long and stressful day for both of us. Maybe we should grab a little sleep first and we can pick up where we left off in a few hours, huh? Nothing a guy likes better than getting woken up for sex, right?" And she kissed me on the cheek. Sure. Nothing better a guy likes better than wakeup sex. I reached down and grabbed my boxers and pulled them back on. Somehow, I was suddenly embarrassed by my rapidly waning erection. I turned towards Wendy, spooned her, and turned out the light. I didn't get woken up for sex that night and I got very little sleep as my mind replayed the event over and over. I would have to live with the ignominy of knowing that I couldn't even finish making love to my wife for the first time. Worse yet, despite her denials, was the knowledge that she was making love to her dead husband instead of me - in her mind, at least. Wendy and I didn't have much time for a honeymoon. We had decided to hold off taking a trip until the end of summer, when our respective work schedules could better accommodate it. The week following our wedding was busy with me getting all of my stuff moved out of the two-bedroom apartment I had lived in for so long and getting moved into the house with Wendy. Hindsight is always 20/20 and one of the other major mistakes I made at the very beginning was allowing myself to be talked into moving into the home that Wendy and Kevin had shared. Wendy had made a lot of convincing arguments, including a list of pros and cons, as to why I should move in with her. It goes without saying that I felt like a stranger in the house the minute I moved in there. Truth is, during the time that Wendy and I were dating I never really spent any appreciable amount of time there. All of the furniture was what they had bought together. Yes, even the bed in the master bedroom was the one that she and Kevin had shared. I deftly tried to talk Wendy into getting new furniture and decorating the house in a style that was more reminiscent of who we were (or at least who I thought we were) as a couple. Wendy kept repeating how much money she and Kevin had spent on their furniture and belongings and how it just didn't make sense to spend so much money on brand new stuff. She also used the argument that she knew I didn't make as much money as a firefighter as Kevin had made as a personal banker. And so, do my great discredit, I went along to get along. I held my tongue, kept my peace. And did it all because I absolutely loved and adored the woman I was married to. A few awkward days went by after we had gotten married and settled into the house as a couple before we attempted to make love again. This time, it was slow and loving and I felt like I was finally making the sexual and emotional connection with Wendy that I desperately wanted. And this time, with an obvious amount of effort on her part, no names of previous lovers were mentioned at any time during the act. The only thing that bothered me was that Wendy seemed to be really into the act - not because she was sexually aroused - but because she was determined not to have a repeat of our wedding night. I knew that Wendy didn't experience an orgasm that second time, probably because she was concentrating so hard on making things okay for me. On one hand, I appreciated her effort. On the other, I couldn't help but feel deep down inside that it was pity sex and a silent apology. I knew perfectly well that Wendy knew exactly whose name she called out that night. And trying to make up for it now, without actually talking about it, only added a bit of salt to the wound. Exactly one week after our wedding, Wendy and I were invited to a barbecue at Ed and Joanne Parmelly's house. All of the Parmelly clan was going to be there, including Greg, Bobby, Melinda and Nate as well as the Greg and Bobby's children. I really, really, REALLY did not want to go. But I knew that there was no way I was going to win an argument against going. So, as usual, I kept my damned mouth shut, carried the pistachio salad Wendy had made into Ed and Joanne's house and did my best to act like some sort of invited guest. Ed and Joanne, of course, greeted Wendy with hugs and kisses. Ed turned his back on me to go check on the grill, which apparently demanded his undivided attention at that exact moment. I reached for Joanne's hand, shook it gently and said, "Thank you for having us." Joanne just gave me a weak smile and then walked to the back yard arm-in-arm with Wendy as the two of them struck up an animated conversation. I got in the back yard and was half-heartedly greeted by Greg Parmelly, who had only been a little over a year younger than Kevin. "Hey, Jack," he said, extending his hand. "Glad you and Wendy could make it. Can I get you a beverage or something?" "Uh, sure. Whatta ya got?" "Coors, Bud heavy or Bud light. Take your pick." "Bud light would be perfect." Greg handed me the bottle of blue yummy and I kind of awkwardly stood by and listened to an animated conversation between Greg and Bobby over the grain market, something I knew absolutely nothing about. Both Greg and Bobby worked in agricultural sales, with Greg an up-and-coming salesman for John Deere implements and Bobby as a seed dealer for Monsanto. Both men owed their living to the overall health of the farm economy and I'm sure their conversation was extremely important. I excused myself from their company, which neither even noticed nor acknowledged, and wandered aimlessly about the back yard, watching the kids play on the trampoline and the swing set in their grandparents' yard. Something odd eventually struck me about the image of a grown man watching little kids play while sucking down a cold beer, so I eventually made my way back to the patio where the rest of the adults were sitting. When the burgers were finished, Ed Parmelly called everyone to the table. Much to my dismay, there were only enough seats at the large table on the patio for Ed, Joann, Wendy, Greg and his wife Samantha, Bobby and his wife Tabitha, Melinda and her fiancé Reese, and good old Nate. Embarrassingly, I was invited to sit with the four kids at the picnic table. Worst of all, I kept seeing glances from Nate looking at me with a goofy smirk on his face as if to say, "you poor pathetic bastard." I laid off the beer the rest of the afternoon. Since I couldn't seem to engage or be engaged by any of the adults in conversation, I readily accepted an offer from Greg and Bobby's kids to join them on the trampoline and push them on the swings. We even rough-housed a little bit and played tag and kickball in the expansive back yard. The last three hours of the gathering actually went fast and the little kids did their best to wear me out. As Wendy was hugging everyone and saying our goodbyes, Greg Parmelly's little boy, Tyler, came up to me asking to be picked up. He was a pretty cute little three-year-old with an absolute mop of dirty blonde hair. "Thanks for playing with us, Uncle Jack!" "You're welcome! I had a lot of -" "What the hell did he just say?" demanded Ed Parmelly. "Did he tell you to call him that, Tyler?" There was stunned silence all around. "Jesus, Dad," Greg said in an exaggerated whisper. "Take it easy. He doesn't know the difference." Ed shot Greg an extremely pissed look. Then he looked back towards me and Tyler. "Jack is your friend, Tyler. And he's Wendy's husband. But he's not your uncle." Confused, little Tyler begged, "Does that mean Wendy isn't my aunt anymore?" "No, Aunt Wendy will always be your Aunt. But Jack...," he said glaring at me, "well...Jack will never be your uncle." And then the old bastard turned and went inside the house. All around, everyone just stared at me in horror. Even Nate, who had been giving me stupid smirks all afternoon, looked away in embarrassment for his father. I patted little Tyler on the back, thanked him again for playing, and handed him to his father. "Come on, Jack," Wendy beckoned. "I think we should just grab our stuff and go." Wendy and the remaining Parmelly clan all exchanged hugs again. It seemed like some of them wanted to say something to me, as well, but nobody had the words - or the balls. They were just too damned scared to say anything within possible earshot of Ed Parmelly. Wendy and I rode in silence most of the way back home. Finally, as we neared the house, she spoke up. "Ed Parmelly is an amazing man and an incredible father, Jack. You need to just give him time to warm up to you. He doesn't know you like I know you. He'll come around. You'll see, I promise." I pulled my truck, a "new-to-me" 2012 King Ranch Ford F-250, into the driveway and said nothing. Wendy gave my hand a squeeze of reassurance and exited my truck. As I walked into the house, the whole embarrassing afternoon replayed through my mind and was amplified as I walked into the front door. Suddenly, I was struck by the overwhelming sensation of being a stranger in what was supposed to be my home with Wendy. The realization that the only meaningful things I had brought with me to the home were my stereo and my clothes. "We" (meaning, Wendy) had decided that none of the furniture I had from my apartment matched the décor of the house. Thus, it was sitting in a rented storage unit at this time. What I wouldn't give to at least just sit back and relax while watching a ball game in my old recliner. It was only a year old. But it had built in cup holders, a built-in TV remote so it never got lost, and also had headphone jacks and a built-in MP3 player so I could either listen to music or listen to a TV show or ball game undisturbed. The basement of Wendy's house (I still couldn't think of it as "our" house) was completely finished. It was going to initially house a workout room. I decided that I needed to make a Man Cave. I had to work a 24-hour shift at the fire station the day after the fiasco at Ed and Joanne's house. So, first thing Monday morning, I drove my truck over to the storage unit and retrieved my 60-inch plasma TV, my theater-style wrap-around sectional sofa and my good old mother-of-all-La-Z-Boys recliner. I also retrieved my Foosball table and picked up a pre-owned 8-foot pool table with some help from my fellow firefighters. Wendy was teaching summer courses that day and was also busy with faculty meetings at Red River Falls Community College. By the time she arrived home that night, the "Jack Cave" was ready. Okay, okay. That was a totally stupid name for the man cave. Sounds like a den of 24-hour non-stop masturbation, right? I promise I'll work on a better name, alright? I also decided to put up all my Minnesota Vikings and Minnesota Twins posters and paraphernalia. I'm not huge into college sports, but I did buy and put up some Bemidji State stuff, too. Wendy came home from work around 4:00 pm and was surprised to see my buddies from work there and was even more surprised to see what we had done with the basement. To say she was shocked was an understatement. She didn't say much at first as she saw guys playing pool and Foosball. We were even watching a replay of last night's Twins game on Fox Sports North on the plasma. Wendy just smiled politely when I showed her the Bemidji State pennants and logos that I had put up along with the Vikings and Twins stuff. After a few moments, she just put her hand to her mouth and walked back upstairs. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought she might be trying to keep herself from crying. My fellow firefighters could all see it, too. She wasn't happy. "Party's over, guys," was all I could say. My brothers slowly filed out of the house and I went with them. "Thanks for all the help," I told each of them as they left. Once they were gone, I trudged back into the house with iron butterflies in my stomach. I found Wendy in the kitchen, eating a banana - and not in a sexy way, either. She was reading today's newspaper and doing everything to avoid looking at me. Finally, she spoke. "I see you decided to decorate the basement without me." "Look, Wendy. I can explain." "Can you? Can you explain? I thought we agreed that we were keeping the house the way it was." "Look, sweetheart, I didn't change anything. There was all that empty space in the basement. The whole upstairs is exactly the way it was. Nothing is missing or moved. Everything is just the way it was when Kevin was here. I just needed a little space of my own, that's all." "But you didn't even talk to me about it, Jack! You just went ahead and did whatever you wanted to. You never asked me if I had any plans for the downstairs. Do you have any idea how disrespected I feel right now? This has been my home now for almost six years, Jack! You've only been here a week and you just take over an entire floor of the house without asking!" "I thought...this was my home now, too." "Yeah, well...it is. But that doesn't mean you get to arbitrarily make a decision like this, Jack." "Look, Wendy, I had a lot of my old stuff from before, too. Some of that stuff, believe it or not, is actually kind of sentimental to me. I mean, you have everything in this house that you had before we got married. I mean, before today, I had absolutely nothing in this house of my own. I just wanted some of my things. I wish you could understand that." "And I wish, Jack, that you could understand how upset you've made me," she said, getting up from the table and heading for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. I did not take that as an invitation for further discussion. An hour passed. I finally got hungry and decided to make some supper. Even though it was summer and not really the best time for it, I whipped up a quick batch of spaghetti along with some garlic bread and a tossed salad. I mustered up the courage to knock on the door to the bedroom. "You can come in," she said, dryly. She was lying on the bed reading a book. Wendy is a huge Isaac Asimov fan and has read all of his books at least twice. "I made some supper, if you wanna come eat with me. Just some spaghetti, bread and salad. I thought you might be hungry." Wendy looked up at me. She put her book aside and walked quietly out to the kitchen. She grabbed a plate and heaped a generous portion of spaghetti on her plate, snatched a couple of pieces of bread and a bowl of salad. Then, managing not to spill anything, she picked up the whole ensemble and deftly carried them back to the bedroom and closed the door with her foot - leaving me standing there with the obvious message that I would be dining alone tonight. She might as well have told me to go fuck myself. I was absolutely crushed. I had done what I did that day because I felt like an outsider in that house, which I was. I was just too stupid to realize it yet. I ate my meal in silence, realizing that Wendy was not going to forgive me any time soon. I cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen and put away the leftovers. Around nine o'clock, I knocked on the bedroom door. Wendy didn't answer, so I carefully crept in. She had stacked her dishes on the nightstand by the bed. Wendy was already in bed and fast asleep. Worse, I could tell that she had obviously cried herself to sleep. I took the dishes and cleaned them up, too. Finally, after watching the end of David Letterman, I decided to call it a night. I grabbed a blanket and spare pillow from the hall linen closet and made my way downstairs and decided to sleep in the man cave that was the cause of my pain this day. Less than two weeks of marriage and I was already sleeping on the couch. The Ghost of Red River Falls I got up early the next morning and decided it was as good a day as any to get back into my distance running. I was gone for almost two hours, which was probably a lot longer than I should have run, considering how long it had been since I last ran in spring time. But being out and about with nothing to do but run gave me a chance to clear my head a bit. By the time I got back it was only 7:30. But to my dismay, Wendy had already been up and left for work. Worse, she had written a note and left it on the table. Babe, Left for work early for a meeting. We need to talk and get some things settled. I'll be home mid-afternoon. W. Shit. As the day went on, I started to steel myself to the fact that she was going to insist on the man cave disappearing. The one area of the house I could sort of call my own, it was also the one area of the house where I didn't feel like I was constantly being watched by a ghost. True to her word, Wendy came home right at 2:30. She changed out of her teaching attire and into a light sun dress. I have to say she looked absolutely amazing in it. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was pissed at me, I would have taken her right then and there. She immediately started in on me about the man cave and how we had agreed that decisions regarding decorating of the house were to be made by both of us and not just arbitrarily by one of us. "What about all the furniture in the bedrooms, living room and kitchen?" "What about them, Jack?" "Wendy, I never got any say in whether I wanted to keep that stuff or how any of the rooms should be decorated. You just wanted everything to stay exactly the way it was." "What would be the point in throwing out perfectly good furniture that matches the décor of the house so well?" "There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of my stuff, either, honey. I bought good stuff for my apartment." "Yes, but it was all stuff that screamed 'bachelor pad'. Everything in this house is stuff that was picked out by a loving couple, Jack. It gives off the impression that two mature, loving and successful people live here." I wasn't getting anywhere with her. "Look, this is difficult for me to say. It would kill me if I offended you, Wendy. But I'm going to have to trust that as a married couple we can share with each other what is on our mind." "Of course we can, Jack." "Okay, then. Here goes. This whole house is exactly the way it was when you and Kevin lived here. It still holds the essence of who you were as a couple. Now that I'm living here, there is nothing here that says anything about me. I can't help but feel like a stranger here. There is nothing here that has any of my personality to it. That's why I felt like I needed to create a space in the basement. I could leave everything on the upstairs the way it was for you and Kevin and carve out a little niche for myself that wouldn't impact that at all." "This place is your place, Jack. I know it probably seems a little foreign to you because it is more familiar for me. This place will grow on you the way it did for me. It is the two people living in the house that make it a home, not the furnishings, Kevin." My heart sank and my stomach filled with acid. "What did you just call me?" A look of realization came over Wendy's face. "I'm sorry, Jack. We were just talking about Kevin a second ago. It was just a slip of the tongue." "Kind of like our wedding night," I reminded her. "Jack, that's not fair. I totally don't remember saying that." I just looked away in disbelief. Wendy made a peace offering by reaching out and putting her hands on my arm. "Look, we haven't even been married a full two weeks. I don't want us to start our life together by arguing like this. I'm willing to let the man cave stay for now. Fair enough?" I was still stinging from being called Kevin. But I accepted the olive branch because I, too, was tired of fighting already. Maybe things would get better and I would just eventually get used to everything. After all, it was just stuff, right? We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and it felt good to hold hands and engage in some idle chit-chat that didn't involve furniture or her previous life. I surprised her again by making beef stroganoff for supper that night. Being a career firefighter makes you a cook out of necessity. And if you are a bad cook, it will teach you to become a good cook, lest you face the wrath of your hungry brothers. Wendy led me to bed after I had fallen asleep during Letterman's Top-10 list. There was no sex that night but it felt good to at least share the same bed with my wife again. I ended up working my regular shift the next day at the fire station, which was fairly uneventful. When I came home the following morning, Wendy had left me a note letting me know where she was and what she would be doing during the day. She also said she planned to host a family get-together this Sunday at our home. She planned on inviting her parents and my parents, along with my sister Jane. Much to my chagrin, Wendy also invited the entire Parmelly clan. I knew immediately that I was in for a repeat of last week's debacle. Thank God I still had my man cave intact. At least I could escape there if I had to. One nice gesture, however, was that Wendy had gone to the furniture store while I was working at the fire department and had bought me a recliner that was nearly identical to my favorite one, only it was styled quite similarly to the rest of the furniture in the living room. It even included the built-in remote and beverage holders. Wendy temporarily moved Kevin's recliner from the living room to our spare bedroom for the time being. Everyone started showing up Sunday right around noon and I played host and welcomed everyone as soon as they came in. My parents, Jim and Sandra, were among the first to show up and I gave them the nickel tour, while Wendy's family let themselves in. I had just finished showing my parents the upstairs of the house when the entire Parmelly clan showed up. Ed and Joanne gave the living room a once-over and immediately spotted the fact that Kevin's chair was missing. "That's not Kevin's recliner," Ed blustered. "What happened to his chair?" "Uh, Wendy bought me that a few days ago," I explained. "The other recliner was moved to the spare bedroom that Wendy also uses as an office." I refused to refer to the chair as Kevin's chair. "Jesus! There wasn't a damned thing wrong with that chair. No need to go and hide it, for Christ's sake," he mumbled. "Uh, Ed and Joanne, you remember my parents Jim and Sandra?" "Oh, yeah," Ed said, half-assed. "Nice to see you all again. Dear," he said to Joanne, "why don't we make our way to the kitchen and see Wendy." As they left my Dad just gave me a look of 'what-the-fuck-is-his-problem'. I tried not to make a big deal of the slight. What did bother me, however, is that Ed and Joanne sat down at the kitchen table. Our home is set up with a fairly open kitchen that includes the main dining area and only has a small breakfast bar in the kitchen itself. Ed promptly sat down at the head of the table and took ownership of the space, irritating me to no end. The rest of the Parmelly's - Greg, Bobby and Melinda and their significant others - all herded into the house and began strolling about and checking out the house to see what else was different, now that I had moved in. Nate was the last one to show up and greeted me with his typical smirk and a ridiculously strong handshake. It didn't take everyone long to discover that I had made some changes to the basement and people started gravitating downstairs. All four of the Parmelly grandkids were immediately smitten with the pool table and foosball table and began to play raucous games of both. Apparently, they had neither knowledge of nor interest in the rules to either game, but I wasn't about to interrupt their fun. I'm also a bit of a gamer and have both an Xbox and a Nintendo WiiU system and picked out some age-appropriate games that the kids could play on the big screen TV. Greg, Bobby and Nate all spent most of their time down there, as well as my parents and Wendy's parents. The only major source of irritation through the whole day was that, yet again, there weren't enough seats at the dining table, so I simply chose to eat downstairs with the kids. It wasn't too big of a deal as my own parents ate there with me and we had a good time watching the kids play. They had found a fun spot and weren't about to give it up. Eventually, after dinner, Ed Parmelly got up from his spot and made his way down to the basement. It was just me and the kids down there as Greg's kids insisted that I play a game of foosball with them, two against one. Ed looked quite disapprovingly at what I had done and just grunted. "You know, this isn't what Kevin and Wendy had in mind for this part of the house," he said. God, I couldn't get over the arrogance of the man. I knew that he was just trying to goad me into an argument or pray that I would make some kind of disparaging remark about Kevin so he could immediately report my transgression to Wendy. "Well, I kind of decided to make a gathering space that was a little less formal than the upstairs...a place where people could let their hair down a bit. Seems to be a bit of a hit. I know Greg, Bobby and the kids are all having fun." And they were. It was noisy down there with the kids playing and getting a little rowdy at times, but I don't mind the sound of people having fun. Ed gave the space a final once-over, noticing that some of Kevin's other personal things were placed in one of the two basement bedrooms and stood there just shaking his head. He finally retreated back upstairs and I didn't say a word to him again that afternoon. Everyone left the house by seven o'clock that night. Wendy's parents were the last to leave. Even Mike, Wendy's father, complimented me for my work in the basement and that he had a lot of fun today. "I have to admit," Wendy said, "that your man cave was big hit. The kids had a blast and I can't remember the last time everyone was here and had such a good time. I missed that. Thank you, Jack." And then she took me in her arms and gave me a very passionate kiss. She silently led me to the bedroom and shut the door. Then, she proceeded to peel off all of her clothing piece by piece. Wendy stood there in front of me completely nude in all of her amazing glory. I paused and simply took in the sight of her flowing and burning red hair, her amazing eyes, and her smile. I lowered my gaze downward, memorizing the look of each of her creamy white breasts - her nipples fully erect. I passed my gaze over her flat tummy, curiously amused by the unique pattern of freckles that outlined her navel. And finally, I nearly gasped as I took in the sight of her perfectly trimmed bush that was as equally bright as the mane of fire red hair on her head. Wendy led me by the hand over to the bed and slowly stripped me down as well. I felt somewhat awkward standing there nude with a raging erection that was hard as steel. Wendy just closed her eyes and took my member in her hand and slowly caressed it, feeling the heat absorbed into the palm of her hand. She gasped as I reached forward and palmed both of her breasts in my hands, delicately squeezing the nipples. With my left hand, I reached own and ran my fingers through her thick little red bush, cupping and rubbing her labia at the same time. After a few strokes, I felt the first rush of fluid seep forth from her pussy and I could tell her passion was rising dramatically. Wendy reached over and turned out the bed lamp again, to my disappointment. I knew as long as I lived, that I would never get tired of the sight of her perfect form. We ended up having sex for nearly an hour. Somehow, I managed to keep my composure the whole time, never wavered. I guess my body needed the physical act more than the emotional bonding that the physical act is supposed to create. You see, I wish I could say that Wendy and I made mad, passionate love that night. But the truth is, only one of us did. Wendy cried out in ecstasy four or five times that night and mentioned both God and her lover's name each time. The only problem? My name was never mentioned. Like I said, somehow I was able to finish the act only because I believe that my body needed the release. When it was over with, and the rush of hormones and serotonin subsided, the dark reality of my marriage set in once again. Wendy quickly fell asleep, having been completely sated. She had completely let herself go tonight, probably because I never stopped her even when she was screaming Kevin's name at the height of her orgasm instead of mine. When I knew she was asleep, I simply put on a pair of boxers, grabbed a pillow and made my way to the sofa in the living room. Sleep didn't come easy for me that night as I was emotionally torn in a way that I had never experienced. How could I be so in love with someone who appeared more and more as though she could never fully reciprocate that love to me? How do you deal with a wife who is so wrapped up in the fantasy of making love to her dead husband while she's making love to me? The thought of Susan Sarandon from the movie "Bull Durham" kept running through my mind. 'Would you rather that I was screaming his name while making love to you? Or would you rather that I was screaming your name while making love to him?' The thought elicited a brief chuckle but was quickly replaced by the blanket of despair. It was beginning to feel more and more that I would never completely have Wendy's mind, body and soul all to myself. Lying there in that living room, I felt even more of a stranger than I ever had before. I have no idea when I fell asleep but I was awakened around 4:30 by Wendy. She was dressed in a silky robe and obviously still in a fog from waking up and discovering my absence. "Jack? What in God's name are you doing out on the sofa?" "I couldn't get to sleep." "After the session we had earlier, I figured you'd have passed out as quick as me, if not faster," she joked. "We? The session we had?" Wendy was puzzled. "Who else would I be talking about?" "You have absolutely no idea, do you?" Wendy just stared at me. "You weren't making love to me tonight," I explained. "You were making love to Kevin. You called out his name tonight at least three times. You were so into the physical act tonight because, in your mind, you were having sex with Kevin and not me. Even though our bodies were joined, I was the furthest thing from your mind." "That's not funny, Jack. I don't remember saying Kevin's name at all." "Yeah, well I do. And it was pretty damned obvious." "Why are you so obsessed with this? Why do you keep saying these things?" "Because they keep happening, Wendy. And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. Look at it from my perspective. How do I compete with that? I love you more than life itself but I feel like I'm never going to have all of you. I feel like you're still tied to your old life and are still trying to hang on to Kevin no matter what it takes. I mean, you're screaming HIS name while you're making love to me! How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?" Wendy was silent as she groped for something to say. Finally, all she could manage to spit out was, "I gotta work in a few hours. I'm going back to bed. If you're comfortable on the couch then stay there. But I am not going to discuss this idiotic bullshit anymore! When you finally start making sense, Jack, I'll be waiting for your apology!" She stomped off back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. All I could do was just flop back on the sofa in frustration. Sleep, of course, did not come for the remainder of the night. Despite the incredible sex just a few hours ago, Wendy and I were drifting farther and farther apart. I retreated to the basement and flipped on the TV to catch Sportscenter reruns and the early morning news shows. I gave Wendy a wide berth as she got ready to head to work, anxious to avoid another tense standoff. I worked a 24-hour shift on Tuesday and then spent a couple of tense days at home on Wednesday and Thursday of that week. I tried to keep the peace as much as possible and had dinner ready for Wendy when she came home from teaching her classes. When we weren't eating lunch or supper, she kept busy preparing for school or spent most of her time in the bedroom reading a book. I ended up spending most of my time hanging out in the basement watching TV or playing Call of Duty. There were a number of projects around the house that I could have worked on but still felt like too much of a guest in the house to even offer a suggestion of remodeling, decorating or fixing something. There was a light fixture on the front porch that needed to be replaced. Wendy refused to allow me to fix it as she wanted to find the exact same style of fixture to replace it with. Why? Because she and Kevin had picked out that fixture themselves shortly after they moved in. I was walking on egg shells daily and it was literally driving me nuts. The only time I didn't have acid pouring into my stomach was when I was either at work or when I was going out for a daily run. My daily runs were the only time I could divert my attention away from my crumbling home life and marriage. I was seriously getting tired of being the third wheel in this union. Sooner or later, we were going to hit a breaking point. Friday, I was in the midst of a 24-hour shift when we got paged out to a house fire on the northwest side of Red River Falls. It was a fairly manageable room-and-contents fire that was contained primarily to the living room of a single-story bungalow. However, as we were making our egress from the home after knocking down the fire, the wooden front steps leading to the small porch gave way under my weight and collapsed. I didn't fall far but it was just enough to severely sprain my left ankle. I was embarrassed more than anything. As an officer, I'm supposed to lead my firefighters by example. Even though it was beyond my control, no respectable firefighter likes to admit they're hurt and can't continue. I did my best to hobble on the foot as long as I could. But soon, I noticed that my ankle and foot were swelling to the point that it was going to be difficult to get my boot off. Sure enough, I waited too long and a couple of our medics on scene had to cut the boot off, which ruined a $300 set of fire boots. I got a courtesy ride in one of our own department ambulances to Holy Family Medical Center. An X-ray revealed the sprain and no fractures, thank goodness. But I was ordered of work for at least a week, if not longer. Once I made it back to fire headquarters, I was able to get in my truck and limp my way home. Thankfully, it was my left ankle that was injured so I could still use my right foot to help drive home. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when I pulled my truck into the driveway. I entered the garage through the side door and was surprised to see Wendy's car in the garage. I normally wouldn't expect her home until 3:30 or 4:00. I did my best to hobble my way into the house without too much of a racket, even though I was on crutches. Having been banged up on the job once or twice before, I was actually used to using crutches. I made my way into the kitchen and didn't initially see any sign of Wendy, other than her car keys and purse lying on the kitchen counter. Walking towards the main hallway leading to our bedroom, I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom. I did my best to creep towards our room, which was no easy task with the crutches.