Perplexity by Bill Briscoe

Author:Bill Briscoe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, mystery, intriguing storyline
Publisher: Bill Briscoe
Published: 2019-10-08T19:18:18+00:00

Chapter 25

JIM

The smell of freshly brewed coffee weaved its way from the kitchen upstairs to the bedroom. The aroma of cinnamon-laced oatmeal, the old-fashioned oats Mom used to make, enticed me to finish shaving and take part in my favorite meal of the day.

It would be another half-hour before the boys stirred. Laura and I had the opportunity for quiet time. She was a morning person who never woke in a foul mood, and she set the tempo for my work day. I didn’t know what I would do without her. Laura was the foundation of this family, and I was fortunate God blessed me with such a wife.

I entered the kitchen. Laura had her back to me as she removed hot buttered toast from the oven. Her brown hair loosely rolled in a bun on the back of her head reminded me of a little granny—but I wouldn’t tell her that. Her red-and-white striped robe reminded me of a candy cane. Cute, really cute.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, and pulled her close to me. “Good morning.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel, then slapped it onto the counter. “You ready for coffee?” Her voice was straight-lined, no emotion.

I eased into the kitchen chair. “What’s going on?”

“Last night you talked in your sleep again.” Laura set a cup of coffee in front of me and some of it spilled. She pulled on the ties to her robe. Her blank hurt stare needed no explanation “It’s the same words over and over. ‘No, no, I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.’ You were flailing your arms and legs. This time it was worse.”

Her hands began to shake as tears gathered. “What’s happened to you? Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on?”

I played with the coffee cup, knowing I was going to lie. “Laura, I don’t remember the dreams. I don’t remember saying the words.”

The dreams were of the man in the Minnesota alley. He was dead and the police were interrogating me. In my dreams I was going to prison. My family hated me. I’d lost everything. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to make up something?” My words were detestable and sarcastic. She didn’t deserve that.

Her lips curled down. “I. Want. You. To. Tell. Me. The. Truth. No one can have the same dream, say the same words, and not be reliving something.”

This was ripping me apart. I wanted to tell her about the night in Minnesota. I wanted to confide in her. But I couldn’t. It would destroy her.

Laura’s lips quivered, and she walked out of the kitchen.

The day Dad died had been a low point in my life, but it was nothing compared to what I was doing to Laura. I’d betrayed the love of my life. She’d trusted me, but that trust was evaporating, and there was nothing I could do about it. The shooting and my dreams were straining our marriage. The Minnesota incident could end it.

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