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The Saga of Bass and Sarah Vol. 01

By: carvohi



A Preface:

This is something that's been on the back burner. I hope you enjoy it. It runs a little long so I've broken it into smaller parts for your convenience. That way should your boss start hovering around your work station, your husband or wife decides it's time to eat, or one of your kid's starts looking over your shoulder you might have a convenient place to take a break. I'll try to get each installment out one day after the other. 

Of course there're the usual admonitions. If there's something political or religious it's for the story; no agendas intended. Second, I'm verbose. You know that going in. That won't change. If you want a quickie go someplace else. 

Think about it. When is sex, no love making, the best? Is it hurriedly accomplished in the back seat of a Ford Escort on a dark lot across the street from a crowded MacDonald's at 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night with 'Big Mack' sauce goo on your shirt, or is it better lying comfortably on a king sized bed with satin sheets in an upper story luxury suite of a Hampton Inn overlooking the waterfront sipping a fine glass of wine with your sweetheart arrayed beside you in a pair of sleek shorty silk pajamas. Well I'll qualify that a little; it's always good, even when it's bad it's good...but still...take your time, relax. What's the hurry?

Well here goes.

*****

Part One: 

Oh shit, it's only 7:15 a.m. I just got the coffee on. I'm cold, I've got a headache, my wife said she wanted to go out to eat tonight, and I'm staring at this thick stack of papers my supervisor wants done before I go home today. The only thing I see that's important is my supervisor's scribbled comment that we can't afford the new safety equipment I recommended; he says the county won't pay for it. And now this; another call!

Well it's Thursday, it's foggy and it's wet out on the Interstate, everybody's in a hurry, and it sounds like real trouble. I drop the memo, grab my crap, and rush out to join the 'regulars' for the run. I'm an EMT, a supervisor, youngest one in the county, and from the voices crackling over the radio this is shaping up to be a bad one. Bass Ebersole's the name.

~~v~~

Across town, roughly six miles away Owen Ebersole, Bass's father, had just finished with his nebulizer. He cursed himself for he guessed the millionth time for not quitting smoking and for working around all those caustic materials at the machine shop all those years. Pulmonary fibrosis is what they called it, five years was what they gave him, that was six years ago. He was lucky. He took his medications religiously; the pf was getting worse, and it didn't help that he had 'afib' and a half dozen stents. The doctors said his veins and arteries looked like sausage. 

He went to the front door and unlocked it so Margaret wouldn't need to when she got home. He saw outside the paper had come, but didn't feel up to getting it himself. Margaret would see it and get it when she got home. He went back and poured in the water to make the coffee. Margaret his wife and mother of his two grown sons would be getting home soon. She promised she'd be in before the morning traffic. She'd spent the week at her sisters in the next town up. Her sister was a widow and had been having a bad time; she was dying of cervical cancer. Margaret was an RN, and though retired she still liked to be of help where she could.

Owen looked at the lights on his old scanner. There'd been an accident on the freeway. He wondered if Bass was on. He hoped the accident wouldn't delay his wife.

~~v~~

The ambulance pulled as near the wrecked vehicles as they could. First on the scene, Bass scoured the area. They'd need more help. He called back to a partner, "Call in some more people. This is even worse than anyone thought." He jumped forward and ran through the wreckage. There must be five, six, no ten cars strewn all about. Everywhere he heard the moans and cries of the injured. Christ what a mess! 

Over beyond the shoulder he espied an overturned Jeep Cherokee. Next to it a crushed Honda, and beside the Honda a Ford sedan turned on its side. He recognized the National Guard decal and the yellow ribbon that complimented it. It was his mother's car!

He rushed toward the crashed Ford. He saw the driver's side door was agape. Had she forgotten to fasten her seat belt? In the soggy brush, in last fall's still uncut foliage he saw the worn leather coat, the ragged slacks, and the heap of torn flesh that had been his mother. By the time he reached her he knew. He fell to his knees and brushed the brambles away from her once beautiful face. There wasn't anything he could do. He just stared at the lifeless shape. He reached out and caressed her now cold dead cheek. "Mom," he whispered.

Behind him Bass vaguely heard his friend and cohort Vernon Abernathy, "Bass! Bass!"

Vernon saw the bloody carcass. He reached for the phone held on his shoulder and called in, "We'll need a lot more help. Send four, no five more vehicles. There're several fatalities, at least four. It's a bad one, and it looks like my partner's going into shock."

Over the speaker Harriet the dispatcher at the center responded, "They're being called. Who is it?"

Vernon replied, "Bass, Oh Jesus; he's found his mother."

Bass looked up but didn't immediately recognize his friend.

Vernon saw the signs. He grabbed Bass by the shoulders and spun him around. He slapped him hard on both cheeks, "Bass!"

Brought back to reality by his partner's crisp voice and insistent slap Bass responded, "No, I'm all right. Get a stretcher. Let's get her out."

By then two other EMTs were on hand. While Vernon pulled Bass away and to his feet the others loaded his mother on a stretcher. She'd be bound for County General in a matter of moments. 

Bass pushed his friend away, "I've got to get home, tell dad, tell Rath."

Vernon knew both people. Rath was short for Wilson Rathbone Ebersole, Bass's older brother, "Come on," he said, there's a state cop, "we'll get you out of here and back to the firehouse."

~~v~~

A few miles from the Interstate his wife Sarah had just backed her car up and pushed the button that closed the garage door. She stepped out and up to the door that took her through the laundry room into the kitchen. She heard on the radio about the accident; she assumed her husband would be there.

She stepped through the kitchen to the hallway. Her hands were shaking; perspiration was already slowly dribbling down her back moistening the thin filmy blouse under her jacket. Sarah worked part time at the town's 'Welcome Center'. She'd already called in and told her morning's compatriot she'd be a few hours late. She done it before and expected no trouble. 

Sarah stepped into the dining room, "Rath, you there?"

Rath Ebersole, dressed only in a pair of white boxers, carrying a towel stepped from the shadows, "Over here."

Sarah stepped into Rath's outstretched arms, "Your wife?" She involuntarily shuddered when she said it; she disliked Rath Ebersole, his indifference regarding his wife, his lack of compassion for the woman who loved him. She wrapped her arms up around his scrawny shoulders. She pulled his face down to hers. She gave him the appropriately affectionate kiss he expected. 

Rath returned the kiss and nuzzled his face in her thick brown hair while his hands searched and found her large firm breasts, "Not to worry, she won't be home till late this afternoon."

Sarah sighed. She felt his manhood, hard and insistent as it pressed against her. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. She knew what she was doing was wrong. She was happily married, she had three young children. She murmured, "Rath this is..."

He whispered back, "I know. I don't care..."

She kissed his neck and thought, 'Me? Oh well. She loved her husband, but right now...this moment she'd do...'

He lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. 

~~v~~

At County General Bass, Vernon, and several others concerned themselves with the people they were bringing in. Bass had declined the policeman's offer; he wanted to stay with his mom till her remains were safely at the hospital. 

Bass wanted desperately to protect his father for as long as he could, but they wouldn't let him forge his father's name on the paperwork. Not knowing what else to do he opened his cell phone and called his wife's work. 

He got Nellie, a friend and fellow employee. Nellie told him his wife had called in that she'd be late. Bass thanked her and called his wife on her cell, but it went to voice mail. He figured she'd had to stop off at school; something probably about the kids.

Now what? He called Rath, but got the same response; voice mail on his cell and the recording on his landline. He dare not call his father; something like this over the phone could kill him. What to do?

Down a ways across the street from the hospital was 'Heaven's Place', a hospice. His good friend Corinne Woodward worked there. He saw Vernon, "Hey Vernon. I'm gone OK?"

Vernon held up a hand and waved, "Need a lift anywhere?"

Bass waved him off, "No, going over to the hospice to borrow Corinne's car."

Vernon gave his friend a closer look, "You sure? You OK to drive?"

Bass waved back, "I'm good."

Minutes later Bass was at the hospice. He found his lifelong friend, "Corinne I need your car."

Corinne was unabashedly and unashamedly in love with Bass Ebersole. He'd been her 'Knight in Shining Armor', her 'Prince Charming', her hero, ever since they'd been children but especially since he'd stepped in and rescued her from her abusive husband. That had been seven years now. She was sure she'd be dead if it hadn't been for Bass. She went and retrieved her purse, handed him the spare key to her Chevy and asked, "Anything I can do?"

He took the key and kissed her cheek, "Talk to you later." He was out the door.

Corinne watched him drive away. God how she loved him; she hoped everything was all right. How could men be so clueless?

~~v~~

Back at the eldest Ebersole's Owen poured himself a second cup of coffee. He checked the clock on the wall. Margaret was late. He bet the accident on the Interstate had held her up. He went to the living room and turned on the TV. Nothing about the accident so he turned to one of the cable news stations, adjusted his oxygen, sat back in his chair and started to doze off.

~~v~~

On his way to his father's Bass got cold feet. He felt shaky. He knew he wasn't feeling right. He needed help. Better go get Rath. He'd tell Rath. Together they'd see dad. He turned off and started for his brother's house. 

He thought about Sarah. God if he could only talk to someone; if he could just talk to Sarah. He pulled open his cell and called her work. Nellie told him she still wasn't in. He thought, 'Better not try her cell, if she was at school, a call there would only get in the way.'

He drove on.

~~v~~

Sarah squirmed out from under her half somnolent brother. She checked the digital clock by the bed. She knew she had to be going soon; couldn't leave Nellie hanging forever. She slipped into the bathroom. She'd take a shower and wash Rath's smelly goo off her thighs.

She wished she didn't have to do this. Rath was much older than his brother. He wasn't all that virile; a lousy lover, lousy in bed, and had nothing to say. He was sloppy, lazy, boring, turning to fat, and just generally a loud, obnoxious, mean hateful man. Yet she kept seeing him; well it wasn't like he was her first.

She thought about Bass; he was such a tender lover, long lasting, adventurous, always trying to please. He was a good father, a caring husband, and terrific provider. She only worked to get out of the house; it gave her a chance to dress up and flirt with the tourists. 

She showered and stepped back in the bedroom. She looked at the lummox asleep in the bed. What a piece of shit. How had he gotten to her so easily? She knew he resented his brother, was jealous as hell. That was why he did it; but her? She knew it was a mistake, a stupid mistake. She shouldn't have fallen for it. Her life was full of stupid mistakes. Someday she'd get caught; and what for? Half the time with Rath she got nothing out of it; nothing except a dirty crotch and a guilty conscience. If only she... 

Sarah found and slipped on one of Beatrice's bathrobes; Beatrice, Rath's wife was almost like a real sister. Bathrobe on, washed and reasonably clean she slipped into the kitchen. She figured she had just enough time to make a pot of coffee. 

While the coffee perked she leaned against the counter and hummed a favorite tune; an old Oak-ridge Boys thing called "Lucky Moon". It was one of their favorites. They'd heard it when they'd been in Branson years back. Bass said it reminded him of something that almost happened years before. 

She thought about it now. She and Bass had been dating and getting it on, but she felt like he'd been taking her for granted. She remembered she hadn't always been exactly faithful, but he didn't know. It was before him anyway. Well he'd gotten scared because she'd said something about California. Afraid she'd leave him he'd pulled out all the stops; flowers, special dates, gifts, and then the proposal. She'd agreed and they'd gotten married. Oh yeah, lucky moon. He was her lucky moon.

She thought about Rath again; better try to cut it off. He was getting kind of possessive anyway.

~~v~~

Bass didn't remember driving to his brother's, but he realized he was standing at the front door. He didn't have a key. Sarah did, but he knew where they had a front door key hidden. He found it, turned the latch and stepped inside. 

Rath and Beatrice owned a small but well-maintained rancher on a quarter acre lot. Rath always seemed to have money problems, and Bass was glad he was able to give his brother his used John Deere. He was even happier he could afford to buy a new one. He took a deep breath; time to get his brother up, time to tell Rath, time to get the help he knew he needed.

Bass stepped through the house. It was a simple design. Off to the left was the formal dining room and an open portal that led to a smallish family room where an old TV sat across from a comfortable old sofa. 

Straight ahead was an open portal that led to the back hall. Through the portal and to the left was their dining room and further down the kitchen. Beyond the kitchen was the laundry room, and passed that was the garage. To the right were the bedrooms and main bathroom. 

Rath was currently employed at a car dealership. He was in charge of purchases for tools and inventory and such. Their dad had gotten him the job. He'd probably stay on long enough to be eligible for unemployment; then he'd find a way to get laid off. Rath and Beatrice never had any children; why he'd never asked and Rath had never volunteered a reason.

He paced through the hallway to the back hall. His head started to pound again. He hoped Rath wasn't hung over; he really needed him.

As he reached the hall he noticed some shadowy movement off to his left. Rath must be up. He turned to speak.

There was his wife. Sarah! She was wearing one of Beatrice's old robes. Her hair was obviously wet and still up in a towel. She was looking down and holding two cups of coffee. 

Bass grabbed the door-frame; the room seemed to spin. A wave of nervous responses started to sweep over him; a hard knot formed in his stomach, he felt weak, his arms felt like lead, the malaise was overpowering. What was she doing here?

Sarah looked up and said, "Rath I've decided...Bass..."

Stunned, in shock, Bass stepped back. He clung to the door-frame. It felt like there was a jackhammer pounding in his head. There was movement and some soft sound off to his right. He turned and saw his brother step from the main bedroom. He was wearing a towel around his waist and nothing else. 

For a second Bass caught a glimpse of surprise on his brother's face, but the surprise was quickly replaced by first a stupid and then a snarky grin.

Bass turned from his brother back to his wife. Breathless; he was gasping for air. No one said anything. No one moved. 

~~v~~

Owen kept flicking from channel to channel. There had to be something on. He had his portable oxygen kit beside him, a cup of stale coffee in his hand. There had to be something! 

He stopped at one of the cable news stations. Some woman was talking about the 60,000 Mexican terrorist children the president wanted to let in the country. Her side kick said something about cooties. She was interrupted by some guy who warned that if the president didn't do something there'd be a nationwide Ebola epidemic. An old guy who said he was a judge said the whole thing with the immigrants was unconstitutional. A third host warned about a measles outbreak and autism. Jesus, it was back to the woman; she mentioned something about Isis terrorists blowing up the country. 

Nothing there he turned to the local news. Maybe he'd get the weather and the sports. He wondered how the local high school team did the day before. He couldn't remember what sport it was.

He got the local news. They had somebody on the scene out on the Interstate where that accident had occurred.

Owen, already bored listened, "Good morning this is Barbara Menjuvenant on the scene of the accident on the interstate. We have a trooper here, "Hello officer what can you tell us?" 

The officer gave the typically officious reply, "Well it's pretty bad Barbara. We've got a multiple car and truck crash. At least three fatalities."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Barbara from what we can figure a deer might have gotten on the highway. An underage driver was operating an over-sized rental truck. He must have swerved to avoid the animal, lost control, and rolled into the right lane forcing at least two cars off the road."

Trying to get a glimpse of the vehicles Owen leaned forward.

Barbara pressed the trooper, "the vehicles?'

"We've got two in the ditch; a Jeep Cherokee and a late model Ford."

Owen tried to look around and beyond the two talkers.

The newscaster turned from the policeman, "That's all from here. Let's go to Sky Cam. Mike are you with us?"

From somewhere Owen heard, ""I'm with you Barbara. Traffics backed up for miles. Looks like eight cars and a truck were involved. We count six, no seven emergency vehicles. Looks bad Barb."

Owen wasn't listening. Out of his seat now, he was crouching and walking toward the TV. Leaning forward into the screen he saw the late model grey and maroon sedan that had to be his wife's, "Margaret...is that...oh..." Those were his last words. Clutching his chest he fell forward into the TV. He was dead within seconds of hitting the floor.

~~v~~

Rath's house was on the far side of town. Traffic had been terrible; it seemed like it was taking forever. Bass hadn't waited for an explanation; none was needed. It didn't matter...not anymore. He'd done a one-eighty, simply re-crossed the front lawn and returned to Corinne's car. He'd have to face his father alone. He felt lifeless, numb. He murmured, "Mom."

When he got to his mom and dad's there were people, mostly neighbors all around outside. Everyone looked somber. He saw a lot of sympathy; he guessed they'd already heard about his mom.

He parked Corinne's Chevy and hastened to the front door; it wasn't locked. He went in. Straight to the left to the living room he went. He saw his father's lifeless body piled in a heap on the floor in front of the TV. 

"Dad," he yelled! He yanked his phone from his shoulder and called in, "Hello. 'CODE!' We've got a cardiac at 1444 South Sycamore. Send help immediately," that was the last thing he remembered.

~~v~~

A few minutes later an emergency vehicle reached the Sycamore location. They found Bass inside administering CPR to his long gone father. They pulled him away.


The Saga of Bass and Sarah Vol. 01



One whispered, "Come on Bass...he's gone."

The next thing Bass saw was the ambulance parked in front of the house. Two paramedics, two more of his colleagues, were busily carting a gurney out of his parent's house. While one continued to push, the other saw Bass and hurried over. Someone was pulling him toward the ambulance.

Bass was awakened by a fellow paramedic working him over. He heard somewhere in the distance, "Bass. Bass, wake up!" 

He stirred and realized he was in one of the emergency vehicles. Somewhere, a friend was talking, "We're sorry. We got here as soon as we got your call. Bass, we're so sorry."

Bass looked from his colleague, to the ambulance, to the gurney, and to the heap that had to be his father covered by a sheet and blanket.

His friend said, "The television, it had to be the TV. He must have seen. It was just too much. He...it was fast...no pain...he went fast. I'm sorry, we're all sorry."

Bass looked at his wristwatch. It was almost 11:00; not yet time for lunch. He wondered, 'What was he supposed to do?'

This is the end of part one.

~~~v~~~

The Saga of Bass and Sarah: Part Two: 

As they drove him to the hospital all Bass could think about was his wife Sarah...and his dad and his mom.

He remembered the first time he saw her, Sarah. She looked delicate, fragile even, like a porcelain doll. But thinking back, that had always been part of her attraction, at least to him it was. He thought for some guys when she was running around it might have been one of things that attracted a cruder sort, the sort that liked to hurt women, He guessed, he supposed, that's how he came to meet her. Then again, running around, what did he know about her running around? That was something they'd never discussed.

He'd just completed two years at community college. For sure he wasn't exactly every girl's dreamboat; 5'9", maybe 165 lbs., kind of slim, no face it, skinny. Never got in a fight at school, never was much with sports, and never dated much, but he hadn't hid in the house playing computer or video games either. He always had some kind of job. He could ride, and he used to hunt. Heck, he still would except for Sarah, Emily-Marie and Emma-Jean, and now Elizabeth-Jane all being hyped up about Bambi and Thumper. Yeah, hunting and him more or less parted ways. Emily-Marie, Emma-Jean, and Elizabeth-Jane were their daughters. He was a good fisherman; he like gardening and he absolutely love dogs, especially labs.

Labs are a funny kind of dog. He thought the black ones were the best. Right now they, he had a yellow one; dumbest damn dog he'd ever had, lovable, loyal, great with the girls, but stupid, wouldn't retrieve shit. He'd take her out and throw a stick. She'd run and get it, but if he said anything, anything like 'good girl', she'd just drop the stick and run to him.

Not so long ago they'd had a little mutt. His name was Toby. Poor thing had been a gift; never had a tail, turned out to be a spinal deformity and they had to put him down. He was buried in the back yard. The girls like the lab, but they remembered little Toby. Toby...mom...dad... Sarah? Had he really seen...? Why?

The ambulance hit a bump and jarred its riders. Bass thought, 'Got to get a grip...'

Back to Sarah; when and how had he come across her? He'd just finished his two years at community college and was all set for the fire academy. He went to the fire academy first, then after a couple years moved on for training to become a paramedic. After more time in night school he'd taken the tests, Lawton had spoken for him and he'd been promoted to supervisor. That's where things were now. Just eight years, not bad. 

Now again: back to Sarah. He was at a tavern. It wasn't very crowded. He was alone having a burger and a glass of nonalcoholic beer when these guys drifted in. He figured they must have been drinking because they were kind of loud. Sarah, he didn't know her name yet, was sitting in a booth all alone eating what looked like a grilled cheese. These three guys saw her and sidled over to where she was sitting. They started to talk to her; he could tell she wasn't interested. Then one of the guys, the smallest, grabbed her arm and started to pull her from her seat. He watched her wince and try to draw back. 

Normally he'd never get into anything like that. She could have been the guy's wife or sister. He didn't know her name or anything, but she looked really unhappy, scared he thought, and so damned vulnerable, he called over, "Hey why don't you leave her alone?" Boy was he ever stupid.

One of the guys; again it was the smallest shouted back, "You want to make us?"

Stupid him; he got up and walked over. When he got there the biggest grabbed his shirt and threw him against the wall. Then the big guy turned to the girl and said, "What do you say Sarah? Want me to beat the crap out of him?"

So there he was; pinioned against the wall like a damn gnat about to get the crap beaten out of him. He didn't stand a chance. That's when the girl, Sarah, she got up. She looped her arm around the little guy's shoulder and said, "Come on. I'm up for it." Then the three guys and this Sarah all left the tavern. She never even finished her sandwich, never even looked back. The big guy let me go, and the four of them left. 

That's when one of the waitresses came over and said, "You're lucky. They could've torn you a new ass. She's a worthless piece of shit anyway; not worth getting beat up over."

He remembered breathing a sigh of relief.

~~v~~

"Ah me."

That had been my first contact with the woman who would become my wife. The second time I saw her was the very next night. I was having another burger and a coke when in she walked. She saw me and walked right over to where I was. I'd been talking to the waitress from the night before; she'd been over because she said she didn't have anything to do. She'd just left. 

Well this Sarah sat down and said, "That was pretty stupid what you did last night. Elmo likes to hurt people."

I asked her, "Which one was Elmo?"

Sarah replied, "He's the little one with the big mouth."

I answered, "That figures."

Then she asked, "You busy right now?"

I responded, "No, you got something on your mind?" 

She smiled and replied, "Yeah you," she stood up and pulled me from my seat and my burger, "Come on."

I figured what the hell?

From there she walked me out to the sidewalk. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wasn't being set up. What if those guys were outside? I asked her, "Where're we going?"

She looped her arm around my shoulder just like she'd done with Elmo the night before. She said, "I'm taking you home."

So she walked me to her car, opened it, and shoved me in. Then she said, "My place's just around the corner. You'll be able to come back and get whatever you're driving later. So she pushed me in, then like I was a child she used her hands and arms to finagle my legs around so I was in real good, she fastened my seatbelt, closed the door and walked around, got in and sure enough drove about an eighth of a mile to this seedy little apartment complex. She parked her car, an old Chevy, helped me out, and walked me up three flights of steps to where I guessed she lived.

When we got inside I was kind of 'not' surprised; it looked pretty bad, it smelled too, but I could tell at least the bed was made, and it looked like clean sheets. There were mostly men's clothes lying about. I figured either she shared the place with some guy, or some guy was keeping her.

She didn't waste any time. She stripped down to nothing and tried to pose. Man she was built like the proverbial brick shit house. She sort of spun about in an awkward way and asked, "Like what you see?"

I grinned, "What's to see?"

She lost her smile, grabbed me, pulled me on the bed and literally tore my clothes off, or it seemed like it. She sat down on top of me so I couldn't easily get up. She got her hands on my penis, and started working me up. 

I didn't need much help. She was the best I'd come across in months. Of course that wasn't saying much. I was just one girl past virgin. She kept me down on the bed, climbed on tighter, and went to work. She spread her legs outside mine and dropped down on me like a missile. 

Just as fast she jumped back up. I had to admit that was one painful first plunge. I said, "Wow that really hurt!" 

She sure was small, or seemed small. I mean narrow and shallow. I never figured my meatster was all that big, but gosh, I went all the way to the end of her tunnel. I thought so anyway. I mean I guess I found her cervix, and bam did it ever hurt! And narrow! If we were model railroading she was 'N' gauge and I was 'O'. It was that tight of a squeeze.

She pulled off. I could tell it'd hurt her too. She looked at my penis and commented, "Cripes, what a monster!" Then she jumped back on and started in all over. She kept humping up and down; her hair was long, and brown, and hung down all around me. The whole time she kept staring at me. It was over in no time; I shot off like a cannon, she rolled over and asked, "How was it?"

I rolled over on my side, looked at her and asked back, "How was what?"

She said, "The sex."

I asked, "was that what that was?'

I could tell she got a little miffed, "What did you think it was?"

That's when I froze. I realized what I'd just done. I remembered some of the stories we were told while on active duty. I was in the National Guard. Some sergeant told us a story about a whore who contracted AIDS and how she'd spent weeks spreading herself around to as many guys as she could. Had this little 'trick' just done the same thing to me? 

I sat up, "We went bareback! You're not diseased are you?"

That's when she leaned back, "No, of course not!"

I shot back, "Well I figure you probably did at least three just last night."

She looked hurt, "No, I only did Elmo. This is Elmo's apartment; he's a truck driver and won't be back for several days. Steve, he was the big guy who collared you; he's married, and Wendell, well he's not into women. Believe me," she paused, "What's your name anyway?"

I had to laugh, "Bass, Bass Ebersole."

She sat back and knelt, "Well Mr. Bass Ebersole I'm no whore. I'm not diseased. I live here with Elmo. I only did you tonight as a thank you for your trouble last night."

I didn't know what to think. If she was a whore she hadn't followed the usual script. I mean I'd never had a whore, but I'd been told they like to get the money right away. Then again, if she was a whore she must have concentrated on guys with the smallest penises she could find because she sure wasn't much in the size department. I changed the subject, "Let me look at you."

She said, "What?"

"Stand up I said I want to look at you."

She stood up.

I looked at her. She was just really, like wow! I didn't know tit sizes, but hers sure looked terrific. They had that neat pear shape; they were pink with dark brown aureole. I didn't see any droop. Of course she couldn't be that old. She had a great waist, narrow; a wasp's waist I think they call it. And that ass, she had a terrific heart shaped ass. There were some scratches on it. And her legs took my breath away; perfect looking calves and magnificent thighs. Oh, and last, that vagina, that pussy! God almighty! Not a lot of hair, maybe she trimmed it? Semen notwithstanding, I wanted to dive right in. Of course for me anything naked would have been great. 

Did I say she had a beautiful face? She had a beautiful face, heart shaped, with enormous green eyes, long lashes, tiny kind of pushed up nose, succulent, yeah succulent looking mouth and lips. She had the kind of mouth and lips that would make a man immediately think about what she'd look like with her mouth wrapped around his dick.

To me she had it all. "Come here," I said. I pointed to the floor.

She walked over and stood in front of me.

I held her hands and lifted them out away from her body. I looked down at her crease. No, it wasn't very hairy, and I could tell she was pretty small. I told a little truth, but I lied too, "You look pretty nice, and I believe you when you say you're not diseased, but what about Elmo and all the other men who used you? They could be carrying all kinds of crap."

She got real serious, "It's only Elmo, and I make him use a rubber."

I didn't believe that for a second, "Then why'd you let me go in unprotected?"

Her eyes got big, and she smiled this kind of half smile, "I like you."

This was too much. Oh the bull shit! I was either getting the hell out there or I was going to go deep. I went asshole. I looked around, "This apartment looks like a shit hole. You ever clean this place?"

She looked stunned, "Well...I...I..."

I was really in stupid mode. I got up, grabbed my clothes and started to put them on. I glared at her, "Get dressed."

She looked at me with this half grin like she knew exactly what I was doing, "Why?"

At that precise moment I stopped thinking with my brain and started thinking with my dick, "Sarah," it was the first time I'd used her name, "I'm taking you to my place." 

My apartment wasn't anyplace special; just an efficiency I'd been using while I was in community college. My parents were footing the bill; that was something they never did for my older brother. 

Why I did what followed I've never been able to figure out, but we got dressed. I drove her car back to my truck. I helped her in my truck, and from there we went to Walmart where I bought a lot of shampoos and stuff. I drove us over to a Belk and bought her some perfume, a $70.00 bottle no less, and some clothes that I liked. 

I took her home. Together we got in the tub. We washed each other up real good. I shampooed her hair. She shampooed the little bit I had. I toweled her off and brushed her hair out and braided it in a nice long ponytail. I got her in a pair of cotton pajamas I'd bought her and then said, "Know what? I'm hungry," I picked up the phone and called a local pizza shop and ordered a large cheese pizza. The whole time I did this she just stared at me with this sheepish expression.

She finally asked me, "Why are you doing this?"

I didn't really have an answer so I told her the first thing that came in my head. I said, "I don't know. You just look like someone who needs to be treated nice." What I meant but didn't say was she looked like someone who needed to be taken care of. How was that for stupid?

I pulled her back on my bed, and got her so her back was against my chest. Her body was pressed tightly between my legs. I took this cheap cream I'd bought and began smoothing it and rubbing all over her. I rubbed firmly, hard I suppose, but not so hard as to hurt. I rubbed all over her chest and breasts, and down on her stomach and above her Mons. I tickled all around the top of her crease. I watched her skin slowly change from a creamy flesh tone to a deep pink. Her body kept getting warmer and dryer. I started rubbing over her crease with my left hand. Her lips started to swell up and get hot. Moisture started seeping from inside her. 

I had to do it. I crawled down and started licking her crease. I was licking the cream that was oozing out of her pussy. It really did smell something like fish. I enjoyed it though. I enjoyed watching her lips get bigger and thicker and redder and hotter! I was no expert on women's bodies or their orgasms, but I think she had one, an orgasm. I kept licking up and down her crease. I mean the more I licked the more of her juices kept flowing out. I got so nervous and jittery I had to do something!

I turned her around and plunged myself deep inside her. She didn't seem quite so tight this time, but she sure was hot and wet. Within a few strokes she went all orgasmic on me; squirming and twisting all about. She shivered and quivered a few times. I felt her get real wet inside, and then she just collapsed in my arms. I was still hard, but stopped anyway.

I felt the ambulance bounce as it hit another bump. Where was I?

I kept thinking. People do stupid dumb crazy things. I have an idea it has a lot to do with how we're raised, what we're told to believe, what we read, and who our teachers are. 

At the time I'd met Sarah I'd just finished a Literature class. The teacher got us all to read 'Ivanhoe'. Then I went ahead on my own and read a great novel about Napoleon Bonaparte and his first wife Joséphine de Beauharnais; the author described their relationship as one of the great love affairs of all time. Dumb assed starry eyed me; Josephine was the classic grade 'A' round heeled slut, but Napoleon loved her so much he didn't care. Of course he had over twenty different mistresses so I guessed it sort of balanced out. Me, I suppose I was in love with the idea of love.

I remember Sarah; she didn't say anything after her 'interlude'. The pizza came. We ate pizza, drank RC Cola, and watched television. Around midnight we both climbed back in bed and went to sleep. I started with my arm around her, but that got uncomfortable so I pulled it away. She responded by curling in between my arm and shoulder. We didn't do anything, no sex, no nothing; we just went to sleep all cuddled together. It felt good. I still had a hard on, and it ended up being squeezed up inside and between her ass cheeks. Somehow it felt right; like maybe Tristan and Isolde. I was in a fantasy world.

The next day we went back to her apartment and sorted through all the stuff she wanted to take, the rest we just left there. She moved in with me, and about a week later we drove to my home to meet my parents. 

I noticed the paramedic kept looking at me. He looked real concerned. Didn't he know I was OK?

~~V~~

Sarah...I mean...that whole week we stayed at my college apartment, she was something else. We hardly had any sex. We just talked and walked around the town. I told her about my life, my brother, my parents, how I was in the National Guard and how I planned on becoming a fireman when I got home. She told me about how she'd been an only child, how her mom and dad doted on her, how they'd died in a car crash, and more or less left her alone and penniless. I remember how she went on and on about her parents and how much they loved her and how much she missed them. I really felt sorry for her. I wasn't thinking. I was talking myself into something I knew nothing about.

I know it sounds crazy; talk about a whirlwind romance. We met one day and a week later we were head over heels in love; it was like a dream come true. I really liked being with her; she had this way it was like she could read my mind. She always seemed like she was real alert to what I was thinking and what I wanted. All she wanted was to please me. I guess her parents really loved her; I mean the way they trained her to just do whatever I wanted even before I knew I wanted it. Man that must have taken some serious nurturing. 

It wasn't just about sex either. Oh we did a lot of the old 'in and out', but mostly it was about cuddling and hugging, and kissing and stuff. In some ways it was kind of eerie. We'd be watching television or I'd be reading some fire manual and I'd look up and she'd be watching me, it was like she was waiting for me to ask her to do something or to get something. I really enjoyed it; it was a little like having my own personal slave, no more like a pet, not that I took advantage of her. I'd be watching TV. I'd glance over, and she'd say something like you need a back rub, or here let me give you a massage, how about a foot rub.

Wherever I went; in the apartment or outside she'd follow me. A couple times I went to the bathroom to take a dump. There I'd be sitting on the crapper squeezing out a turd and she'd kneel down in front of me. I'd just finished having a load of shit coming out of my ass, and she'd start fondling and kissing on my dick. She wouldn't take it in her mouth; she'd peck at it, and kiss it with her lips. She'd watch me while she did it. Sometimes she'd mouth the words, 'I love you.'




The Saga of Bass and Sarah Vol. 01



Every morning we got into a strange routine. I'd sit at the kitchen table and flip through the morning paper or go over some manual. Sarah would crawl under the table, reach in my boxers and pull out my dick and play with it, no sucking just that kissing and tickling. She'd just kneel there under the table and snuggle up between my legs and nibble on my penis.

A couple times at night I'd be watching TV and Sarah would crawl across the room, get on her hands and knees in front of me, and pull down her pants and panties. Then she'd turn around and ask me to massage her ass. Of course no ass massage was complete without my fingers sliding up and down both her crevices. We never did any anal with me going inside. I sort of tried it once when we were in bed but she got scared and asked me not to, but she sure liked it when I fiddled in and around her little posterior cavern with my fingers. She was always so clean back there; she had a great looking little asshole, just a crinkly pink little circular opening. I'd get so excited I'd lean in and lick it. I'd kiss it, right dead center on her hole!

I wasn't a real experienced guy and I don't think she was too up on things either, but I can say without reservation there were some things that happened I never expected. For one, we'd be making love and every so often I'd have this powerful exhilarating wave sweep over my whole body, I mean I'd have chills and shivers from head to foot, it was like some kind of orgasm without getting my rocks off. My penis would get harder even than normal, like a surge it would get bigger and hotter, and I wouldn't even ejaculate! 

I saw the same kind of thing happen to her too. We'd be kissing and hugging and moving our hands over each other or I'd wrap her head in my hands and her skin would get real warm, turn red, and she'd shiver all over, a couple times she even cried. I mean jeez I wouldn't even be inside her! Talk about chemistry. And when I was inside her she was always so tight and snug. 

She had this way about her I couldn't describe it, but she seemed to be able to read my thoughts. We'd be doing nothing, or I'd be reading and she'd cock her head on an angle, she'd smile this funny sweet crooked smile, and then come over and sit beside me or on my lap. She'd smooth her hand over my face and around my neck and chin. She'd kiss me, she'd kiss my cheeks and around my neck until I got goose bumps. She'd take my arm and make me put it around her shoulder while she perched her head under my chin. It all felt so warm and comfortable.

It was one heavenly week. I couldn't get enough of her, and I don't mean just the physical. I could see she was the same way, or she sure acted like it. It was like we were made for each other. OK, it was akin to some fantasy. I'd read about Abelard and Heloise. I remembered the Iliad, Andromache and Hector, Penelope and Odysseus; it made sense. Sure, maybe the Odysseus-Penelope thing wasn't exactly in the Iliad, but Sarah and Bass; we were made for each other. We were going to be the greatest; a love for all time. 

I think the ambulance must have reached the hospital. I think someone opened the back door. All I saw was macadam. 

I must have jumped from the ambulance before it had come to a complete stop. That wasn't always that unusual in a normal situation, stupid maybe but not unusual, but I wasn't just right. There was a male nurse outside to receive and help the paramedics; he reached for me just as my head hit the macadam.

One of the paramedics muttered, "Oh shit." 

~~V~~

My head hurt.

When Sarah and I got to my parents they hardly asked any questions. I could tell they liked her right away; they just assumed she was the one. I know Sarah went way overboard to be nice to my mom and dad, especially my mom. I was still living at home so they gave Sarah my brother's old room. My brother was married by then and he'd been out of the house for quite a while. 

Sarah pitched right in; she helped with the cleaning and with doing the clothes, she even helped out with the cooking. She worked really hard, and not just with the chores; she worked hard to get my mom and dad to take to her. I think sometimes my mom looked at her kind of funny, but I never figured out why, at least not then. Every time I saw her when she was around my mom Sarah had an apron on. 

My mom was a 'state fair freak'. Every year she submitted pies, cakes, cookies, jellies and jams to the fair. She did a lot of sewing too, but hardly ever won anything. Sometimes her foods would win, sometimes they wouldn't. Of course all the submissions meant a lot of cooking and experimenting with different recipes. The state fair was still a ways off, but that never slowed her down. Heck, my mom was in a cooking club; they'd have regular 'cooking contests'. Someone would bake a dessert; someone would make an entrée, others would whip up different kinds of appetizers, salads, breads, or vegetable casseroles. Well my mom started talking about it with Sarah and it was like she became one of my mom's newest disciples, she had to watch and help with everything my mom made. When my mom showed her some of the clothes she made Sarah couldn't seem to leave the sewing machine alone. I don't want to talk about the mess she made with macrame. 

I started fireman training. Sarah and I managed to sneak around and get in a little love making from time to time. I think my parents sort of knew what we were doing, but mostly we played it like we were more brother and sister than lovers. 

About eight weeks after we moved in we got married; nothing big, nothing special, a small church wedding. My family, we were all Baptists. Sarah was good with that. 

I'd say maybe three weeks later Sarah started in with morning sickness, and a few months after that we had Emily-Marie, a year later Emma-Jean showed up. I got a job with the fire department, and with mom and dad's help we made a down payment on a pretty nice older house. I felt a little guilty because mom and dad never did that for my brother, but he said he didn't care so I let it go. 

A year after Emma-Jean we thought we were going to have another baby but Sarah miscarried; it would have been another little girl. That was hard to take. Sarah cried all the time. I got a little scared too after that so I talked about getting myself fixed. 

Sarah didn't like that I'd get a vasectomy. She wanted to get herself fixed. She said I shouldn't do it because if she died I might want to get married again and have more children. I told her to stop talking stupid. I remember I pulled her close and squeezed her ass cheeks real tight and told her if she died I'd take some poison right away so I could catch up with her before she got too far. That made her cry even harder, but we agreed to see the pastor to talk about it.

The pastor told us that any kind of permanent fix was a bad idea. It was bad for religious reasons and for practical reasons too. We might change our minds some day. None of us understood back then that sometimes vasectomies can be reversed. He compared it to having an abortion; once the decision is made it's basically a done deal, but you'd live with it the rest of your lives. From then on we decided to rely on Sarah's diaphragm and the 'morning after' pill for birth control.

Wouldn't you know it; we got careless. It was a night when we were supposed to go out with friends for dinner. We were sure we were safe. Well we weren't. Nine months later our fourth baby, little Elizabeth Jane arrived. It was scary for sure since we'd lost one baby, but it was reassuring too. Sarah was extra careful. She stayed home and in bed the last three months. My mom took care of her.

So we met, got married, had two kids, a miscarriage, then a third baby. We were living the happily ever after or at least I thought so, then my mom had her accident, dad had his, and I caught Sarah and Rath.

At least I was awake and ready to be discharged. Guess who was there to help me.

This is the end of part two.

~~~v~~~

The Saga of Bass and Sarah:Part Three:

This can't be happening. I'd been so careful.

I was standing like a fool in Rath's kitchen. Bass just walked out. He didn't say anything. What was I going to do? 

I knew I should have stopped seeing Rath. I glanced over at him, "I'm out of here."

He gave me one of his smug smiles. As I stepped through the laundry room door toward my car, I turned and said, "You better think of something."

Rath snarled, "Fuck you."

I pushed the button to open the garage, got in my car and started toward home. I had to think of something. I needed a story; something Bass would believe. I was all over the place. What was he doing at Rath's? He was supposed to be at work. He couldn't know anything. He couldn't have found out, not Bass. He trusted me. No one would've told him. Hardly anybody knew. Who knew? Well Nellie...OK, then there was Vernon but he was married like me. Vernon wouldn't have told. No, we'd both felt so guilty after... but then...I don't know...guilty conscience? It couldn't have been Lawton; we'd only done it once. Like Vernon he'd...well... I only think he did the once just because he knew he could.

OK, I made a mistake. I never liked Rath that much anyway. He wasn't any good either; not like Bass. Bass and I had been married eight years. Bass and me...just last night we... Rath wasn't the first. There weren't that many; well maybe two, no three more; just the three a time or two at the Visitor Center. Oh why count; none of them meant anything. They were just something; something that happened. It wasn't like it was fun; just a thing. It was because of...I'd always been so careful. I never dreamed...now...

I opened my cell phone. Better call work and tell them I won't be in. I hit the number. Nellie answered, "Sarah?"

I replied, "Yeah, I won't be in."

She answered, "I figured. We all heard it on the radio. Someone was here looking for you. A social worker I think. Bass is in a pretty bad way."

I was stymied, "What are you talking about?"

Nellie replied, "You haven't heard? Your mother...the accident on the interstate. They say Bass was one of the ones on the scene..."

I was stumped, "What accident. I haven't heard anything."

Nellie told me, "Margaret, your mother was in an accident out on I81. She was killed. I'm sorry. I thought you knew. Bass was one of the paramedics. They say he was the one who found her. Oh Sarah you've got to find him. He's going to really need you today."

I closed my phone. What have I done? What's happened to my mom? That's why Bass...Oh no. Dad! Bass! I reopened my phone and checked my messages. Shit! Damn! He'd tried to call me, but I'd turned my phone off. He went to get his brother. He went for help. That's why...his dad. I had to get to his dad's! I gunned my engine and took off.

All the way over I prayed. I cried. I tried to make sense of what was happening. I'd done a terrible thing. I'd betrayed my husband, the one man I'd finally found I could love. I'd done the absolute worst thing a wife could do. What was I going to do about this? Oh come on...it was just...sex...it wasn't like I... But Bass didn't...he didn't. I had to think of something. OK. I knew I could count on dad. He'd understand. He'd listen. He'd be on my side. The kids; I had the girls. Bass wouldn't...

I reached Sycamore Street, I pulled up, got out, and went to the front door. No one was there. I was at a complete loss. What was I supposed to do? A neighbor saw me and walked across the street. She was an older lady, a lady I'd come to like very much, an old friend of Margaret's.

She reached me, "Sarah we're all so sorry."

I wasn't thinking, "Have you seen Bass. Where's dad?"

The lady looked at me. She was all puzzled, "You don't know?"

I asked, "Know what?"

"The news", she said, "the news over the TV. Owen saw it. He had a heart attack. Bass got here right after. It was Bass who...he called the paramedics. They all left together."

I asked, "And dad?"

She shrugged, "Dead. Well I think. They had him covered with a..."

"Bass," I asked, "My husband?"

"They took him too. I overheard one of the paramedics. They said something about shock."

My hand involuntarily went to my mouth, 'The hospital. I had to get to the hospital.' I checked my watch. Elizabeth, morning kindergarten; I had to get to the school. I needed someone to watch my girls. All right, there's Lydia Abercrombie. I'll call her. I reopened my cell and tapped in her number. She picked up right away, "Mrs. Abercrombie?"

"Sarah?" I heard her say.

"Mrs. Abercrombie I need your help. My mom, dad, Bass; I need to get..."

"You'll have to pick them up Sarah. You know the law. But if you pick them up and bring them over I'll be glad to watch them for you."

I was on the edge of tears, "Oh thank you Lydia. I'll get them now." 'OK,' I thought, 'get to school. Get all three girls. Go to Mrs. Abercrombie's. Then to the hospital; find Bass...explain.'

So I was on my way to the school. I had to come up with something. I could tell Bass I'd loaned Rath some money. Then he tried to blackmail me. He wouldn't tell Bass I'd loaned him money if I put out. No, that wouldn't work. How about I'd borrowed money from him? No Rath was always broke. OK, I felt sorry for him. His wife was having an affair. No that would never work! All right I did feel sorry for him. He'd lost another job. But he hadn't! Beatrice threatened to leave him; that would work. He was lost and lonely. Bass might believe that. Bass was a softy. He loved me. He'd believe me on that. Now to tell Rath; I clicked open my phone again to call Rath. I rang his cell. No answer. I tried his land line; again no answer. The bastard; he's gone back to bed. Damn, we had to have matching stories...if our stories didn't match?

I'm so nervous. My stomach...I'm going to throw up. This isn't supposed to be happening. Come on Sarah...get it together. Think. Think! Bass loves me. We're married. Our three girls; he wouldn't...no he would never...not Bass. I'm safe...he doesn't know anything...nothing...nada. He only knows about Rath. Well I did feel sorry for him! He's such a loser.

I thought, 'Bass doesn't know anything about me...my past. He met me. We fell in love. We moved. We got married. He doesn't know...he believed...he never checked. He never went back...he never asked. He doesn't even know how old I am! Oh Jesus! He can't find out!' 

~~v~~

Across town Rath had watched Sarah drive away. 'Dumb bitch,' he thought, 'Bass, what a stupid asshole. If he only knew...well fuck him, maybe he should know.' He yawned and stretched, 'Not now though, time to go back to bed.' 

Rath closed the laundry room door and retreated back to his bedroom. He'd rest up till Beatrice got home. That cunt; she'll probably wonder if I've been missing work. Well fuck her too.

~~v~~

Sarah collected the kids and dropped them at Mrs. Abercrombie's. Emily wanted to know if everything was all right. Sarah reassured her. She was afraid to say anything without Bass. Now she had to get to the hospital and find her husband, her loving, loyal, faithful...oh this can't be happening.

Twenty minutes later Sarah was parked on the emergency lot, and headed for the door. Everyone knew her. Everyone knew her husband. She got to the Triage desk, "Have you seen my husband?"

The nurse at Triage smiled, "He's back in room 17. He's lying down right now." Almost as an afterthought she added, "We're all sorry Mrs. Ebersole."

Sarah had almost blocked out thoughts about mom and dad. She blinked back a tear, "Thank you," she passed through the doors to find her husband.

She found him in room 17. He was lying on his side curled in a fetal position; they'd gotten his clothes off. They were on a chair in the corner. There was blood on them. She wondered if it was Margaret's. He seemed to be asleep. She crept up beside him, "Bass?"

He rolled over; he didn't look that focused. He murmured, "Go away."

I walked to his side, "Bass I'm sorry. Don't be angry. We can talk later. Right now there's mom and dad. Think of the girls."

He rolled back, "Help me up. Get me my clothes."

I tried to push him back down, "No honey. You need..."

He pushed me away, "Funeral home. Arrangements; get me my clothes."

I tried to keep him in bed, "No I'll..."

He pushed back again, harder. He was shaking like he was cold. He said, "No, get my clothes. Go start the car."

I backed off. I found and handed him his clothes, "Mrs. Abercrombie has the girls."

He wouldn't look at me, "Take me to the station. Then get the girls and go home."

I volunteered, "I'll come with you."

He glared at me, "Did you hear me. Get the girls and go home. Don't tell them anything. I'll do that."

I tried to smile, "OK, I'll get the girls. We'll wait for you at home."

He snarled. I'd never seen him look so vicious, "I don't care what you do."

I backed back, "I'll be out front."

~~v~~

Bass slipped on his gore smeared clothes. He glanced around the emergency room. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. He walked out past Triage. The nurse got up to stop him, but he was too fast. He'd gotten through and out the door before anyone knew he was up and about. He went straight to his wife's car, opened the passenger door and said, "Take me home first. Then get the girls."

Sarah appealingly looked at him, "Bass please. Let me explain. Honey I'm..."

He kept his eyes straight ahead, "Shut the fuck up, and take me home."

The drive wasn't that far, but it gave Bass time to try to think through what he needed to do. He was still all at odds. He felt groggy. He figured he'd been at least slightly concussed; that plus all the excitement left him a little dazed. Still things were beginning to come into focus.

~~v~~

As we drove along I tried to think. I just couldn't get my head wrapped around what I needed to do. I looked over at Sarah. I wondered, 'Why did she always look so beautiful?' She sat there, driving, and she looked radiant, tired maybe; sad for sure, but so God damned radiant! Everything about her breathed sexuality. Oh how I hate her. I love her, but I hate her.

I couldn't let it go. With her I could never hide my feelings. I was so angry! "How could you," I asked?

She looked over, "Bass I'm..."

I wouldn't. I couldn't let her, "I hate you! I fucking hate you! You betrayed me! You fucking betrayed me! And with him! My own brother! Don't lie to me! I know what you did."

Sarah was crying, "I didn't...you weren't supposed...I wasn't...it...I can't." 

I was so God damned upset! I couldn't handle it, "You know the Shawnee used to live around here. You know what they used to do? If they caught someone they'd tie them to a tree. They'd cut a small hole in their abdomen and then slowly, oh so slowly, pull all their small intestines out and wrap them around the person and the tree."

"Bass I'm sorry...I wish..."

I wasn't finished, not by a mile, "That wouldn't be good enough for you. You know what else they did. They'd bury a stake in the ground with maybe twelve inches sticking up. Then they'd tie a person's hands off so they were forced to hunker down over the stake. They'd be too low to stand, but too high to kneel without the stake going in them. Then they'd sit back and wait. They'd wait to see how long it took before their captive started to slowly sink down on the stake. You Sarah I could do that. I could do that to you."

She just kept crying and driving.

"You know what Sarah," I said, "even that's not good enough. You should be burned at the stake. You know how they did that Sarah. You know how they did that? You want to know?"

She kept crying, she whimpered, "No..."

"I'll tell you Sarah. They'd set up a stake; maybe five six feet high. The captive had his, or her hands in your case, hands tied behind her back. They'd tie a rope around 'her' neck. They'd cut off their eyelids so they'd have to see everything they were planning. Then they'd do shit. They'd lay out hot coals, hot faggots on the ground. The captive could move. They could run around and around dodging the things they tossed in front of them. Wouldn't that be fun Sarah? I could do that. I could do that to you. I'd like to do that.




The Saga of Bass and Sarah Vol. 01



"Oh Bass. I'm so sorry. Please let me..."

"Explain? Explain Sarah? You want to explain? You want to explain to me how you came to be fucking my brother. Fucking my brother on the morning my mom died? Tell me Sarah what possible explanation could you have?"

She kept crying, "Bass I..."

"Back to the stake Sarah. You know what was a favorite thing? They'd get pine needles. They'd dip them in pitch. Then they'd, one by one, punch the pine needles into the captive's body. With a woman it was extra fun. Think about all the pine needles they could punch in those big tits of yours. Then when the captive was fully encrusted with pine needles someone would come up with a torch and set 'her' on fire. Man they said they really burned. They said they burned and burned. It didn't kill them though. They'd douse them with water and start all over again."

She was really bawling, "Bass please I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?'

"Forgive you? Forgive you? Forgive you for what? Fucking my brother. Fucking up his marriage. Oh Sarah you know I'm telling Beatrice. Tell me how I can forgive you for what this will do to our girls. Our girls? Are they even mine?"

She burst into a really heavy bout of boo hooing over that, "Oh you know they are. Bass you know..."

I laughed, "I do? Tell me Sarah. Tell me sugar plum. How many other men have been inside you? I mean other than just me and my good old brother." I lost it. I started pounding the dash board. I took my hands and started hammering with all my might against the passenger side of the dashboard. I know I broke something in my hands, but I bashed the living shit out of that dashboard. I didn't care. I hit it, and hit, and hit it, and hit it. I hit until I was too tired to hit it anymore.

I looked at Sarah, "I wish that was your face." 

I was done. I dropped my head in my broken hands and burst into tears. Everything, all of it, it just overwhelmed me. I'd lost my mom, my dad, my brother, and then my wife, my sweetheart, and all in one day, no not one day, one single fucking morning. 

What was the use? What difference did it make? I saw we were maybe a mile from home. We were traveling about thirty miles an hour. I unfastened my seatbelt. With luck I could fall from the car, I could be trampled under the wheels; I'd be dead in minutes. I reached for the door handle.

The car slammed to a stop. Sarah must have seen what I was planning. Just as I got the door open she got the car stopped and reached across and with all her might she pulled me back. She was screaming, "No Bass. No honey. No darling. My God no!"

I was no good. I collapsed in her arms. I was crying, and I just couldn't stop. I kept crying, "Why Sarah. Why? Why? How could you?"

She held me. She was crying too. 

I finally regained some semblance of self-control. I looked at my hands. They were already swollen; not very bloody though. I sat back up. I sniffed a couple times, "Take us to get the children first. They need to be told. Then I'll figure out what needs to be done next."

Sarah, still weeping, "You'll let me help?"

I replied, "We've got to see to the girls," I guess that satisfied her for the moment. She calmed down.

~~v~~

By the time we got the girls and got them home I'd put together a plan, at least something in embryonic form. We all got in the house. My head was killing me. My hands hurt like hell. I let Sarah bandage them. I'd been taped up and bandaged in front of the girls before, but when Sarah got the girls each a milk and a big slice of cake they must have known something was wrong; cookies maybe, but a hunk of cake as an afternoon snack was to real no no. 

We had them seated in the kitchen. I took the reins, "Girls," I said, "we've had a pretty eventful day as a family."

Brother, looking into the eyes of those three innocent little girls was absolutely, utterly, totally terrifying. I said; it was almost a whisper, "You remember how we talked about Jesus?" 

They all sat there, wide eyed. Emily nodded.

"Remember how we talked how he died and went to Heaven to be with his father, but that even though he left us all here he still loves us, and stays with us in our hearts."

All three nodded. I could see the look of emergent understanding begin to pass across Emily's face. She knew something was dreadfully wrong.

I went on, "Well we've had some really sad, but wonderful things happen today," a deep breath, "Your grandmom and granddad," I sighed, "they went to Heaven today. They went to be with Jesus."

I saw Emily, 'oh no,' I thought.

Emily looked at me and then Sarah, "You mean like when Toby died and we buried him in the back yard?"

Toby had been that sickly little puppy we'd adopted. He didn't live long, only a few months. I didn't think Elizabeth remembered him. I was pretty sure Emma wouldn't either, but Emily...

I replied, "Yes Emily a lot like Toby. Grandmom had a bad accident in her car this morning, and when Granddad found out he decided he'd go too."

It was Sarah; it was fucking Sarah who had to start crying. Emily looked at me, "Grandmom and granddad both died today."

I nodded, "They went to be with 'Our Lord' in Heaven."

In a frighteningly hushed tone Emily said, "And they're never coming back."

I said, "But they'll always be here," I thumped my chest, "in our hearts."

Elizabeth was only four years old, "I remember Toby. I still miss him. I don't want grandmom and granddad to go away like that."

Sarah left the room. Great! I reached out, "Come here sweetheart," Elizabeth climbed on my lap. Emma followed, and then Emily was there too. I was afraid the chair would break. My head hurt! I just kept hugging them.

Elizabeth had tears in her eyes, but she wasn't crying, "Daddy," she said, "Can't you make them come back?" 

I kissed the top of her head, "No honey. Daddy can't fix this," I thought about my broken marriage. I looked at Emily, "We've got to be strong for your mommy. You know how she was with grandmommy."

Emily was being strong, "We will daddy, and don't you cry," Emily's comment made me realize even she hadn't fully comprehended what had happened. Oh this was hard!

I wanted to. God I wanted to, I slowly managed to get up. Keeping Elizabeth in my arms, holding one of Emma's hands in my swollen bandaged hands I looked at Emily, "Let's go in the living room and comfort mommy." 

We all walked in the living room. Sarah was sitting in her special seat, a lazy boy. She wasn't crying; she was looking at me, and she was terrified. 

I walked the girls in; I carefully lowered Elizabeth on her mother's lap, and handed Emma over. I then put my hand on Emily's shoulder and spoke to Sarah, "I'm going to go see about the arrangements. Then I'll drop back by 'the house'. Why don't you wait a little while and then order some pizza."

Emily understood that, she said, "You go ahead daddy. I'll take care of mommy and my sisters while you're gone."

I kissed her. Then I kissed all the other three. Yes, I kissed Sarah too. I went upstairs, and changed clothes. I thought, 'Jesus, I was downstairs in these bloody clothes!' I got my keys and took off for the funeral home. 'Thank God,' I thought 'mom and dad had already bought a plot, and they'd made most of the arrangements beforehand. This was because no one was sure how much time dad had. Of course, none of us figured we'd lose them both, not like this.'

While I was there I got a call from Vernon. Corinne had called about her car, and Vernon and one of the other guys had taken care of it. Corinne, of course, understood. Thank god for friends like Vernon and Corinne.

No one had told Rath anything, and I honestly wasn't in any hurry. I figured the bastard could wait couple more hours. There was something I had to do.

Mom and dad had talked to me some time ago. They'd both agreed that when the time came I'd be the executor of their estate. My mom and dad had been frugal people; they'd saved all their lives, and they wanted to make sure there was a fair distribution of their wealth. To put it more bluntly; they didn't trust Rath.

I made a bee-line to the hardware store and purchased the necessary locks to cover myself and my family, my family; that was a joke, from Rath's avarice. I got the locks, and made the necessary changes. There were only three doors. No, when I told Rath, he wasn't going to get to pillage our parent's house. I knew there were a few things he was supposed to get. He'd get them, but the rest would be divided evenly.

When I got the locks all changed I sat down in dad's chair and made that call. I got Rath on the second ring, "Rath," I said.

He said, "Oh, it's you. I guess you called so you can rat me out to Beatrice."

I fully intended to tell his wife, just not right then. I was surprised he hadn't heard. I told him, "You haven't heard. Mom and dad are both dead."

He snarled, "Yeah, and fuck you too."

I replied, "No, I mean it. They're both dead." 

It got real quiet on the other end, "No shit?"

"No shit."

I think I heard him cry a little. He asked, "How did it happen?"

I told him. 

He answered, "OK. Then I guess I don't care what you say to Beatrice."

I answered, "I'll be telling her what she needs to know," My guess was Rath, the cheesy bastard, was already figuring up how much money he'd get from the sale of the house and whatever they had in the bank.

I heard him say, "You know I'm supposed to get dad's shotgun, his sea chest...and his gold watch that had been great granddads."

I told him, "I know. We'll get that stuff tomorrow." He hung up before I could say anything else.

Now it was time for me to go home. I looked at the clock. One day; it had been one damn day.

I sat in my dad's chair and looked at the clock on the wall. I thought, 'Life's not fair. It's just not fair.' I knew I had to make some kind of decision about Sarah, about my dead marriage. My cell phone sang; I opened it up. It was Sarah, "Hello," I said.

She said, "The pizzas are here. The girls are waiting. When will you be home?" 

I replied, "I'll be there in a few." I got up, went to the front door of the house where I grew up. I used the front switch and turned out the living room lights. I wondered, 'Home...home.' 

This is the end of part three.

~~~v~~~

The Saga of Bass and Sarah Part Four: 

We kind of agreed to circle the wagons that first night. I wanted to strangle Sarah. I wanted to tie her to a chair and cut off her body parts and feed them to her piece by piece. I'd start with her toes. I'd cut off and feed her one toe at a time until they were all gone. Then I'd do her fingers; each finger, one joint at a time. I cut off her ears, her nose, then her labia. I conjured up all kinds of ways to make her pay for what she'd done. I kept those thoughts to myself though. 

I had three little girls, and they were very important to me. It wasn't that cold out, but I brought in some chunks of firewood and started a fire in the old fireplace. The five of us all sat around it. Sarah, Emily, and I toasted marshmallows and made s'mores for the younger ones. Emma complained that she was old enough to toast too so I wrapped her in my arms and held the fork while she toasted. Emma was special. They were all three special. There'd been another one; she would have been special too. I thought about the one we lost sometimes. I wondered what happened to babies who didn't get to be born. I supposed they were in God's hands.

Sarah got out her copy of the "Children's Bible" and we read Bible stories. Emily wanted to hear her mom read the story of Ruth; I thought that had to have gotten her, the 'whither thou goest' thing sounded hollow coming from Sarah. We sang songs like "Jesus Loves Me", and "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." Around 8:30 Sarah and I took the girls upstairs, we gave them their baths, we said our prayers, we prayed for grandmom and granddad that they'd have a safe trip to Heaven, we kissed them good night, and then Sarah and I went downstairs. 

Emily, because she was the oldest had a room of her own, but she insisted we leave her door open, and we kept a small hall light on just in case. I was a paramedic and I'd read where sometimes, rarely really, a kid would get confused in a dark hallway and fall down the stairs. Sarah and I always slept with our door open too, just in case. Emma and Elizabeth still shared a room, but we had an extra for when Elizabeth would be old enough. We still kept side bars on the bed Emma and Elizabeth slept in just in case one rolled too far. 

The girls; they all looked alike. They all had the same thick brown hair and green eyes as their mom. They all had that same heart shaped look with pert little noses, and vivid happy smiles. They looked delicate, like little angels. 

Sarah has always been so careful with them. Oh sure they were spoiled, but who cared. Sarah had a habit of dressing them all up to look alike; then she'd put on the very same outfit. It's hard to imagine going to church with four girls all decked out in green dresses, white socks, and saddle shoes. Hair all done up the same way with barrettes and ribbons. 

They were so beautiful; it was like having three little Sarah's. I was the king of the house! They were mine. They had to be mine. Of course they were mine. 

~~v~~

When we got downstairs I took my place in my lazy boy. Sarah came over and knelt at my feet. Any other time this would have been the prelude to a wonderful evening. In fact just twenty-four hours earlier we'd been in bed cuddling and whispering endearments to each other. We'd been quiet and careful not to awaken the girls. Sarah liked to do it side by side sometimes. I'd slide in, and she'd...well; it all seemed so phony now. What a hypocrite she was.

Sarah looked up at me, "Bass can I explain?"

I looked at her. I felt empty, defeated; it was like all the life was drained out of me, "Sarah there's nothing to explain. I saw what I saw. I just want to go to sleep." 

My headache didn't seem quite so bad, but I knew the symptoms, and I knew I dare not take anything until I was more certain. I told her, "I'm staying here till a few days after the funeral. I'll sleep down here, but after that I'm moving to mom and dads. I'll come back in the evenings to be with my girls, but I want you to know it's for them, not you. You know I'm the executor mom and dad's estate. Rath won't like it, but I intend to take my time. I have the comp time so I plan on taking a brief leave of absence until my head clears." Of course the 'comp time' thing was a joke. Everybody had 'comp time'. Nobody ever used it. Just the same I knew my supervisor was a decent guy. I liked and admired him. He'd understand.

Sarah was holding my knees, "Bass won't you let me say anything?"

I shrugged, "Sarah the only reason I'm still alive and here right now is because of those little girls upstairs. Beyond them I just don't care. Maybe in a few months I'll feel differently, but don't count on it."

"Bass," she murmured, I could tell she was on the verge of more tears, "I need you. I love you. It was...a...oh Bass..."

I interrupted her, "Sarah go upstairs and go to bed."

She squeezed my legs very tightly. I hated her. I hated what she'd done. The pain and the anger were fire new, but even so, in spite of my anger I wanted so much to hold her, to comfort her. She'd loved my mom and dad. I knew she was sad. I knew she was suffering. It wasn't enough. She held on for a while, but then she got up, she looked at me and held out her hand, "Please come to bed with me?"

I grimaced, "Not a chance, not a chance in hell."

She reiterated, "Please?"

I took a deep breath, "What? Rath wasn't enough for you today?"

She sobbed once and ran upstairs.

~~v~~

The Day After:

I got up my usual time. I called Lawton my supervisor and asked him for some time off. We discussed my situation, and he agreed since no one else had asked for anything and no vacations were planned they'd have no trouble covering for about a week. After that he said we'd have to work something out; maybe sick time, a formal leave of absence, something. Then I waited around until Sarah got up with the kids.

Sarah came down first, but I knew the rest would follow. Sarah looked like she hadn't slept very well. I told her, "I've taken a week off. I'm going to call and see Rath and probably Beatrice sometime today. It's up to you, but I'd like it if you decided to hang around the house. You decide whether to keep the kids home or send them on to school."

She timidly asked, "What should I decide...about the girls I mean?"

"What do you think," I replied. 

"Can I keep them home with me?"

"Do what you want," then I thought about it, "Yeah, keep them home and quiet. I'll call later when I can. We'll go someplace."

I watched Sarah fidget about. She fiddled with her coffee cup, "If you go someplace with the girls, can I come too?"

I was surprised by that, "See here Sarah. They know nothing about our problems. I'd like to keep it that way as long as we can."

Emma and Emily had come down. I walked over to Sarah, "Kiss goodbye." She was pleased by that. Then I slipped over and kissed Emily and Emma. I looked back at Sarah, "Better get Elizabeth."

Sarah brushed back a tear, and then of all things she curtsied, "Yes sir."

I stepped out, got in my car, started it up, but before I pulled away I used my cell to call Rath. Surprise! Surprise! He was up and about. He answered on the second intonation, "Yeah?"

"Rath, meet me at mom and dad's in an hour."

He growled, "You want to talk to my wife?"

I replied, "Not yet, probably later." He hung up; then I hung up and took off for my parents.

Once I got there I found the chest, opened it, and discovered a heap of papers. I didn't know what was there, but I sure knew Rath wasn't seeing any of it; not till I went through it first. So I found an old cardboard box and stuffed it with dad's old junk. I figured it was just that, junk.

Good thing I didn't waste any time. Rath pulled up just as I was shoving the cardboard box in a closet. I went to the door and let him in.

He glared at me, "My key doesn't work."

"I changed the locks yesterday."

"Trusting fellow," he mumbled, "Where's my memorabilia?"

I handed him the old watch and the shotgun. I pointed to the sea chest. He pocketed the watch, dropped the gun under his arm and started to lift the chest. My guess was he didn't plan on staying. I had to try and stop him, "Rath you got a minute?"

He sat the chest down, "What for?"

"We're brothers. Mom and dad just died. Can't we at least say something?"

He came and sat down beside me, "All right I'll admit it losing them both; it breaks my heart. They were our parents. We could have done a lot worse, but don't expect a lot of tears. I'm all cried out. Besides I've got an idea you've got plans for me."

I put my hand on his knee. He didn't back away, "First mom and dad picked me to be executor because of all your problems since you got back from the service. Dad told me about the PTSD, and what all you went through. He made me promise to be absolutely fair and I will. About you and Beatrice..."

He interrupted me, "I told her last night. She said she wouldn't leave me."

Jesus I don't know why, but I was glad to hear that. I asked, "Can you tell me something about...well...?"

He shrugged; no I'd say he slumped, "Not much to tell really. I wish I could sugar coat it, but I can't. I told you I wasn't the first. Sarah's a flirt. I don't think she understands sometimes. Look Bass I came on to her. I started it. I played the sympathy game. I told her Beatrice was two timing me at her work. I told her Beatrice treated me bad, that it was her who didn't want kids. I told Sarah Beatrice told me she might have kids someday; just not my kids. You know how Sarah is; a bleeding fucking heart. It was still all bullshit, but you know what else? I think Sarah wanted to anyway. I mean I could have said something like, 'Hey let's jump in the sack,' and she would've said, 'yeah sure, why not?'" 




The Saga of Bass and Sarah Vol. 01



I felt sick listening to him. My stomach was tied in knots, I asked, "You said you weren't the first."

"Bass I don't know how else to say it, your wife fucks around."

I asked, "You got any names?"

He looked at the sea chest, "Vernon for one..."

I was struck dumb, "Abernathy? Vernon Abernathy?"

Rath added, "Yeah and I'm pretty sure your supervisor. What's his name? Lawton Childs."

I was going to have to quit my job. I felt like such a fool, "How did you find this out?"

He kept looking around the room. Before he could answer me I asked, "You're not lying are you?"

He got right in my face, "No I'm not lying. Beatrice told me. She said she overheard it from that woman your wife works with."

"You mean Nellie Billingsworth?"

"Yeah she was talking to someone at the last get together at the Fire Hall. Nellie was talking to somebody about how your wife used one of the private rooms at the Visitor Center to 'get off' with a couple of regulars. That's when this woman mentioned Vernon and the guy Childs."

I was crushed. My wife was a fucking whore, "Anybody else," I asked?

Rath gave me a straight, and I thought an honest appraisal, "That's all I know. Look Bass its Sarah; I think she's sick. I mean in the head sick. I don't want to make this worse for you, but us doing it was like nothing. I mean it was more about the talking. Sure we fucked, but we could've been having a coffee and eating donuts. It was that 'matter of fact'. You want to know what we talked about?"

I didn't, but still, "No what did you and my wife talk about while you two were fucking?" 

"Well while we fucked nothing, but before and after I made up shit about Beatrice, but I don't think she heard me. Then when she talked all she wanted to talk about was you. Christ it didn't make any sense. That was when I figured she was fucked up. I mean there she was betraying you in the worst way while she was bragging about how great a dad and husband you were. Bass the woman needs help."

I was fed up, "So you're telling me I should help Sarah get counseling because she's been fucking everybody within a twenty mile radius for the past eight years of our marriage."

He shook his head, "I didn't say that. I said she's fucked up. I didn't say it's been eight years either. I don't know how long it's been, but not eight years. There was a guy who stopped in at my work. He said some things. I don't remember what."

I was numb; a guy at his work? My head was starting to hurt again, "Well thanks Rath," but I thought, 'Yeah thanks for nothing.' 

He asked, "What are you going to do about the house?"

Shit, the bastard's a mercenary son-of-a-bitch, "I'll let you know."

He took the gun, the watch, and the chest and left, and he left me with more trouble than before. Now I had fellow employees and my boss fucking my wife. I could get them. We had morals regulations. Of course, I'd have to prove everything, and the more I worked at that the worse it would be for me and my kids. I had to do some digging. I sat there in my dad's chair and wondered why I didn't feel something. Shouldn't I be crying or something? Shouldn't I be all pissed off and figuring out how to kill my wife and my 'so called' colleagues? I just didn't feel anything. For two cents I thought I might as well just get in my car and drive away. That didn't last; I had children. I could never leave them. I was their dad. No matter what; I was their dad.

I opened my cell phone and called the Visitor Center. It was a Friday. Nellie should be there. She was; she picked up on the first ring, "Hello Nellie?"

I could almost feel her hesitancy over the phone, "Hi Bass. Gee I'm sorry about your mom and dad. If there's anything I can do..." 

"There is. Can I come see you?" 

"Well sure, when did you want to come?"

I answered, "How about right now?"

"Uh...well...I'm...you know..."

"It's important Nellie."

"Well OK." 

After a short bout with a tie up caused by road work I got to the Visitor Center. I went in and Nellie was at the counter. She didn't seem to be busy. I walked over, "You know why I'm here." 

"Sarah called earlier. You shouldn't worry, we'll cover for her."

"That's not why I'm here."

Nellie looked confused, "Then why are you here?"

"I caught Sarah in bed with my brother yesterday. The Visitor's Center, and your name came up. Can you help me?"

Nellie looked worried, maybe scared a little, "Look I need this job. My husband's out of work, and we have four kids."

I told her, "I'm not after you. I'm not after anybody. I only want the truth. What's Sarah been doing while I've been at work?"

"Look," she said, "I'm on lunch break in a few minutes. We could go outside and talk there."

"OK, I'll wait," I answered. 

About fifteen minutes later we were both outside, I asked again, "Tell me about my wife."

Nellie started, "Well I know she loves you very much, she loved your mom and dad, and she's very proud of her children. Oh Bass don't make me say things."

"Nellie I need to know."

"Bass Sarah's a good woman. Deep inside she's really good. Maybe a little immature sometimes, but she's not a bad person. I know she loves you very much. You and the kids are her whole life. You're all she talks about."

"Tell me about the men," I waited.

"Oh...well...you see...Bass it wasn't like her...not the real..."

"Nellie please.'

"OK, well you see. Every now and then someone might show up, someone who, I don't know, someone Sarah might...fancy. No I don't mean fancy, not in the way...Bass it wasn't serious. It was never serious. She'd just...just...she'd get flirtatious...silly. They'd come on to her. She'd ask to take a break. They'd go back in one of the offices. Maybe ten minutes later, never longer than ten maybe fifteen minutes, and she'd be back out. I don't know what they did. Honest, I never snooped. I never asked. She'd be all excited, acting foolish, not normal, then she'd come back out and be her old normal self again."

"This happened many times?"

"A few, not a lot."

"Anybody in particular?"

"No not really. There was one..."

"Who?"

"A guy from Louisville I think. He'd come by every couple weeks. He'd ask if Sarah was working. If she was due in he'd wait around. If she was off he'd leave."

"What did they do?"

"Oh the same; back in an empty office, ten minutes maybe, then he'd leave."

"You know his name?"

"Sean or Shawn something; that's all I know. Sarah knows."

"Anything else?"

"No Bass! Don't tell her I told you, and Bass?"

"Yeah Nellie."

"She loves you. I can't explain why...all this..., but I know she just adores you. She worships you."

"Tell me Nellie. Did you ever try and stop her. Did you ever warn her I might find out? Did you ever remind her she had a husband and a family?"

Nellie just looked at me, "...no..."

"Thanks Nellie," I left. 

~~v~~

I stopped off at a nearby Denny's. Talk about reliable; now that's the place. I sat in a booth and stirred my second cup of coffee. I'd had two fried eggs over medium. I checked my watch, 2:30. What, maybe thirty hours? Every time I turned around things got worse. I thought, 'What else could go wrong?' My kids! No! My kids were mine. They had to be. I knew I had to make sure. I would get some hair follicles. I'd send off. I'd make sure. God, Jesus, I was getting paranoid. I finished my coffee, left a tip, got in my car and started back home. 

~~v~~

Late that afternoon I took my girls and my wife out for a late lunch early dinner whatever. We'd had a brief discussion and a little vote, the Red Lobster won. It wasn't my favorite place. I would have preferred the Olive Garden, but this wasn't my decision. While we were there Sarah and I had an enlightening little experience. Right in the middle of dinner Emma volunteered a comment, something most parents with more than two kids have certainly at one time or another heard.

Little Emma looked at me and Sarah and said, "We were at school this week and my friend Jolene said she was sorry for me because I was the middle child and she knew I was always going to not be paid attention to, then Emma turned to me and asked, "Daddy am I the middle child?"

I answered, "Yes sweetie you are."

Then she asked, "Am I always going to be left out because I'm the middle. Do you love me as much as you love Emily and Elizabeth?"

I was surprised. What a question. I noticed Emily and even Elizabeth were watching; they were listening to every word. I reached around the table, pulled her on my lap and said, "Emma you're my middle child, my middle girl. You know what that means? It means you're right in the middle, right here, "I thumped my chest where my heart was, "You're right in the middle of my heart. You're right at the center, right where you belong."

She put her arms around me, kissed me, and said, "I love you daddy."

I felt so good. Then she said, "Can we go to Chucky Cheese next time?"

I laughed. Sarah laughed too, and I said, "Next time it's Chucky Cheese!" I thought how scary this was; my wife was an unfaithful whore, but I, no we, had these three perfect little people. Talk about being in the middle. 

We got home, and persuaded the girls to use the living room as a camp site. We got out a couple blankets and made up a pretend tent. While they watched 'Frozen' for the umpteenth time I got Sarah to sit down at the kitchen table. She didn't want to; she really wanted to hide in the living room with the girls.

I got her in a chair and said, "Tell me about Vernon Abernathy." I watched her go into action. I swear two days ago I'd have believed anything she said. Now I just didn't know.

She was holding a cup of tea, 'Tension Tamer,' when she started, "Well...he's your paramedic partner, a friend of ours, and...someone who you're..."

I stopped her, "What is he to you?"

She took a sip of tea. She used her napkin to wipe some nonexistent fluid from the table, "He's my friend too."

"How close a friend Sarah?"

She was rattled; I could see it. She put her tea down, she dropped her head in her hands and then dropped her head and hands to the table, "Bass...I..."

"What about Lawton Childs. Is he a friend of yours too?"

She looked back up. She was white as a sheet. She had that look of someone about to go over a cliff, "It's not what you think...it wasn't..."

"I asked, "When? How many times?"

"With Vernon or Lawton?"

I said, "Let's go with Lawton."

"It didn't mean anything. It was just..."

"Sex, I know, I said, "now when and how many times?"

"Just once, just one time Bass. You remember last winter...it was after Valentine's Day...and...we were going out and you needed something to wear. You were on a run. I came over in the afternoon with your clothes. Mr. Childs was in your office, and..."

"You fucked him."

Dropping her head on her hands, her hands flat, palms down on the table, she nodded her head.

"Any other times?"

Head still down she shook her head sideways. I could barely hear her, "No just that one time."

"What about my best friend Vernon?"

She sat back up. She squirmed and fidgeted. She looked to the left out the window, then right toward the hallway. She wouldn't look at me, she mumbled, she was almost inaudible, "It was only twice."

"When, where?" I asked.

"Both times, here; he came to our house with some things, reports you needed," she sighed, "you were...at work, and he was in a hurry so he stopped them off."

I asked, "How did it happen?"

Real fast, nervously, she replied, "When, with Vernon?"

I replied, "Yes with Vernon."

Deep breath, she took a deep breath, "Oh he came over. It was around 11:00. I made some coffee and we talked about...you know...your work. He said you were really stressed and needed some time off. The next thing I knew he was kissing me. He told me...things...then we...I really had..."

"Where Sarah?"

She started to cry, breathing heavy, gasping for air, she whispered, "Here on the table."

"Both times?"

Dully she nodded her head, "Uh huh. The second time we never even talked. We just...then we agreed we should stop."

I sat back. I thought, 'Oh fuck', then I said, "So you fucked my boss once in my office, and you fucked my best friend twice here in our kitchen on this table."

She looked genuinely confused, biting her lower lip with her teeth she sniveled, "Bass it wasn't like that. It wasn't what...oh."

I felt dead, like a dead man, "Like what? Did they stick their dicks in you? Did you spread your legs and let them put their dicks in your cunt?"

Shaking her head back and forth in what looked to me like self-denial she expostulated, "Yes but it wasn't anything...it...I can't...it just."

She and I weren't on the same planet. I said, "It wasn't anything." I drummed my fingers on the table several times, "Oh but it was something. Do you know what it was?"

She groaned, "I'm sorry."

I said, "Sarah it was something, just a little something; it was murder. You murdered our marriage. You murdered me. You murdered our life together. That's all, nothing really."

She was weeping and twisting her hands together, it looked like her wrists, fingers, and palms were getting tangled up, "I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just kind of did. I had no...you wouldn't understand...," she hiccoughed and wiped the tears from her right eye with the back of her right hand.

Then both of us looked around and saw three little girls, eyes wide, mouths open, looking at us. Usually it's Emily, but she was holding Elizabeth. This time it was Emma, "Why are you crying mommy? Are you crying because of grandmommy and granddaddy?"

I got up and walked to my girls. I took Emma and lifted her up, "That and some other things," I led them back in the living room. Then I went back to the kitchen. I looked at Sarah, "I saw Nellie today too. Want to tell me about Shawn? She said there were other men too. Care to tell me how many?" I could tell she wasn't listening.

Sarah pleadingly looked up at me, "Can we go to bed now?"

I felt like a condemned man, lifeless, listless, lost, "You go to bed. I'm sleeping down here tonight."

She wasn't crying, but tears were flooding down her cheeks, "What will you do?"

"We have a viewing tomorrow evening and one Sunday afternoon. The funeral's Monday. I suppose I'll be doing that. I'll be at my parent's most of the rest of the time going over some paperwork."

She asked, "I mean about us?"

I ignored her stupid question, "Nellie said Shawn lives in Louisville. You know his last name?

She nodded her head.

"I'll be seeing Beatrice too."

She pulled herself up and said, "Have you said anything about us."

I replied, "No I haven't?"

She put her head back in her hands; elbows resting back on the table, she just muttered, "Oh I wish...Oh if I could take it all back...make it never happen...my life," she looked up again, "Oh Bass...you won't leave me. Promise you won't leave me..."

She didn't get it; she'd already left me, "Go to bed Sarah. You put the girls to bed tonight. I think I'll run back over to mom and dad's place for a while."

She got up and started toward me, "Promise me. Promise you won't leave me."

"Take care of the girls. Tell them I'll be back later to look in. I will be back later tonight." I got my car keys, waved into the living room, "Be back in a jiff! Listen to mommy," I left for my parents again.

I was so tired. All I wanted to do was go someplace and go to sleep. I wanted this nightmare to end. I wanted to be able to just wake up and have none of it be there. Of course, that wasn't to be. Worse was yet to come.

This is the end of part four.

~~~v~~~

The Saga of Bass and Sarah, Part Five: 

I drove back to my parents. When I got there I sifted around through their closets and found a ton of papers. Most of them were old income tax forms, old letters, my dad's old Honorable Discharge, mom's credentials, boxes of discarded junk and pictures. I stacked everything as neatly as I could. 

I also got out the cardboard box and looked through the pile of papers that had been in dad's old sea chest. Most of the stuff was junk, sentimental junk, but junk none the less. I thought I might hold on to some of it and make a scrapbook for my kids to see when they got older. I did find two mailing folders that looked kind of interesting; one was labelled Margaret and the other was marked Rathbone. 

Jesus was I tired, but I didn't want to go home, not yet, and I knew I'd need to go through all this crap eventually. I thought, 'Now's as good a time as any.' I was curious anyway. I picked up the mail envelope marked Margaret. I opened it.

What I found in that envelope proved to be the start of something as crushing as anything that had happened so far. First, some time ago, it looked when I was maybe two years old my mom had been in a clinic and had a procedure done; the procedure was what they call in the vernacular a 'dusting and cleaning.' Actually the record I was holding indicated my mom had been diagnosed with endometriosis, and her solution had been a partial hysterectomy. Not really a D&C and I supposed that in itself meant nothing, but the pages underneath revealed something more telling. My mom had also had another procedure done shortly before her visit to the clinic; she'd been tested for pregnancy, and as an 'old time' exclamation point, the rabbit had indeed died. My mom's procedure had been an abortion! 

Now my mom and dad were religious people, and I knew they had strong feelings about abortion. They'd been vehemently opposed to such a thing. Why had they had one performed? There was certainly no indication of any threat to my mom's health. This was strictly a voluntary decision, and a decision they'd both had to have participated in. It had to have been mutual; otherwise why would my dad have the records? 

Of course I could be wrong; maybe there was a threat to my mom's health, and maybe my dad didn't know until after the procedure had been performed. But my mom and dad had always been so open with each other. All my life every important decision they'd ever made had been accomplished jointly. Surely something as big as the termination of an unborn life would have required some discussion. My dad must have known. Of course he knew, he'd kept the records! Gee, they were dead; whatever had happened, the pregnancy, the abortion, what they discussed, that whole story, no one would ever know.

I turned to the second envelope; the one mark Rathbone. I opened it. This envelope was far larger, and much heavier.

Rath had served in the Army National Guard. During the years after the 2003 invasion of Iraq he'd been called up. I'd been called up too, later, but my mom knew people and had wangled me out of actively serving. Rath however, had gone.

I'd always been told Rath had gone and served with distinction, that he'd earned a Bronze Star. As I perused the paperwork in this folder I saw none of that was true. Rath had indeed been called, but he apparently couldn't handle the strain; he'd been given a general discharge, a medical release. Rath's military history, a history told to me by a proud dad, had been a complete fraud. The time he'd supposedly spent in Iraq had actually been time he'd served as a patient at Martin's Army Hospital at Fort Benning, Georgia. This was harrowing news, but worse followed.

Beneath Rath's army papers I found two sets of DNA papers; one was mine, the other Rath's. Mine was simple and forthright. I was my father's son. Rath's was different. Rath's DNA results indicated my dad wasn't his dad. 

I was tired and overwrought so it didn't hit me right away. Then it did. Rath was only my half-brother. We had different fathers. That meant only one thing; my mom had been unfaithful. She'd had sex, maybe even a full blown affair with another man. Whatever it was the next few papers revealed so much more.