Authors: Dianne Harman
Jeffrey was not a bad person. He loved Maria and knew that he alone held the power to keep her deepest fears from coming true. He had made a clear distinction between Maria and Moore Labs in his mind. Since his experiments were responsible for the development of the anti-aging hormone, he felt he should be able to administer it to his wife. Moore Labs didn't see it that way and he had violated their rules. Jeffrey understood Sidney's concerns. If he had violated some of their rules, what other ones would he be likely to violate in the future? It was too risky for Moore Labs and he reluctantly understood why he had to go.
Jeffrey shakily stood to leave. "I've enjoyed working here, Sidney. I'm really sorry it's ending like this." He turned and almost stumbled as he left the room.
Monica turned and looked at Sidney. "I wonder what will happen to him. What a shame. He's a brilliant man. Look what has happened to him. He lost his job, ruined his career, and threw away a chance to be awarded the Nobel Prize. I hope his wife is worth it."
For the first time since Dan had come to his office that morning, Sidney began to feel better about the situation. He had taken fast and decisive action. Jeffrey seemed to realize that Sidney had no choice but to do what he did. The stockholders, fellow employees, and the press would never know. Thank God it was over. He walked over to the credenza, which housed a full bar, asked Monica if she would join him, and poured two stiff Maker's Mark bourbons on the rocks.
He raised his full glass and clinked it with Monica's. He noticed that her skirt had slid up her leg dramatically. He made a mental note not to fumble with the clasp on her bra like he had last time. Monica smiled sweetly at him with adoring eyes as he stood up and moved closer to her, sliding down the zipper on his pants. Yes, everything was going to be just fine for the president of Moore Labs.
CHAPTER 11
Jill knew she couldn't keep on running. Once again, she was driving across country trying to outrun the past. It had been six months since Rick had died. Six months of unremitting pain, tears, depression, and agony. It was a sensation that gnawed unceasingly at her very soul.
The trust fund that Rick had established made it very clear that Jill was to get everything, including the large house in Newport Beach, California, the second home on the golf course in the California desert community of La Quinta near Palm Springs, the Mercedes and the BMW (which she had sold), a large bank account, the stocks, and mutual funds. She was worth over twenty million dollars, but her wealth did not take away the feeling of complete emptiness she had experienced ever since Rick’s death. She had visited Las Vegas, Miami, Denver, New York, and San Francisco and was currently returning to California from Dallas, trying to run faster than the past but it always seemed to be gaining on her.
She was utterly and totally depressed. She no longer wanted to live. Living was too painful. The only way out seemed to be suicide. Jill found herself thinking more and more about dying. Actually, she had gone beyond thinking about it and now found herself contemplating when she would do it. She knew she couldn't do it with guns or knives. She remembered a phrase she had read somewhere about "wanting to go gently into the night." That's how she would like to go. No more pain, just going to sleep for a long, long time. At her request, her doctor had given her a prescription for sleeping pills when she told him all she did at night was cry while lying awake and staring at the ceiling. She hadn't told him the real reason she wanted the pills, knowing that he would immediately refer her to a psychiatrist. Her hand drifted to the pocket in her purse where she kept the medication.
It wasn't that she was afraid of dying; it was that she was more afraid of living like this. She was looking for the right place to die. None of the places she'd been felt right. Jill really didn't want to be a burden to anyone so when she did do it; she wanted to be in some out-of-the-way place where she didn't know anyone. Her conscience wouldn't allow her do it when she was staying in some friend or family's home, leaving them to deal with all that went with the aftermath of a suicide.
Glancing down at the speedometer, she realized she was going 95.
Not a good idea in this early evening light,
she thought. She had no idea that she'd been going that fast, once again lost in past memories. Jill had been on the road for over 14 hours. Although she was an excellent driver, her reflexes were shot, she was exhausted, and she knew she shouldn't be driving. Her car showed an outside temperature of 99 degrees, even though it was past 8:00 p.m. If she had a flat tire or some other type of car problem, she wasn't sure she could survive for very long in this god-awful heat.
She noticed some lights in the distance and a roadside sign that said "Blue Coyote Motel." She desperately needed sleep. Maybe she could keep the waking nightmares at bay for a few hours with some decent rest, or maybe this would be the place she would end it. Months later, she would wish that she had gone the extra 65 miles to her home in La Quinta and never stopped at the Blue Coyote Motel.
Pulling into the motel, she was pleasantly surprised at how well the motel was kept up. Recently painted, the cream-colored Southwest style motel with its red tile roof reflecting the last rays of the setting sun was a pleasant backdrop for the desert plantings someone had very carefully placed around the premises. The brightly colored species of cacti and succulents were well cared for. Entering the office, she walked to the small reception desk.
Tears were starting to well up in her eyes. Obviously, she was more exhausted than she realized. "I need a place to stay tonight. Do you have any rooms?" she asked the lovely dark-haired young woman behind the desk.
The woman stepped around the reception desk and gave Jill a big hug. "I'm sorry, but with those tears in your eyes, I just thought a hug might help. And to answer your question, yes, I have one room left. It's nice and the air-conditioning feels so good after this brutal desert heat. We also have an honor bar and a few things to eat in our refreshment room. Just fill out the registration form and I'll show you to your room. I promise you, you'll feel much better in a little while."
Jill quickly signed her name, Jill Loren, on the paperwork and followed the young woman to the refreshment area where she helped herself to a glass of wine, carrying it to her room. Just as the woman had said, the room was quite pleasant and the air-conditioning felt wonderful. She noticed the painting of a blue coyote on the wall and thought,
how very fitting in this godforsaken place.
The only animals that would want to be here are the coyotes.
She briefly wondered why the beautiful young woman was working here, in the middle of nowhere. With her looks, she certainly could get a better job in the city.
Jill took off the clothes she'd been traveling in all day and felt the cool tile on her bare feet. Lying down in her underwear on the bed, the air-conditioning began to refresh her. At a height of 5'7", with straight ash-blond hair, an enviable body, and a million dollar smile, Jill was a very attractive woman. When Rick was alive, people were always telling him how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have her as his wife. Rick was a doctor and she knew that doctors were fair game for lonely patients and aggressive nurses who wanted to "marry up." She and Rick laughed a lot about that since they both knew a number of doctors who had succumbed to this form of professional liability.
The commitment that she and Rick had made to one another was so strong she never worried about the other women who constantly surrounded her husband. The extra attention Rick received at the charity events, the hospital donor dinners, and the political events they attended had been nothing more than a source of amusement to both of them. She honestly felt she had never had a jealous moment, even when some of the women had made their intentions crystal clear with a dramatic display of cleavage when they leaned toward Rick to whisper something privately.
She knew what people said about her life and they were right; she had been lucky. She had plenty of money, good looks, and a beautiful home on the Gold Coast. Just living in the Newport Beach area of Orange County gave her an elite status. Their home was located on a hillside overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Every home in the area would sell for several million dollars. It was such a prestigious enclave that the residents used "Newport Coast," rather than "Newport Beach" on their checks and in mailing addresses.
Jill's life with Rick had been fabulous. She was adored by and married to a well-respected cardiologist. Designer clothing and Judith Lieber bags were a staple in her closet. People expected the doctor's wife to look good and she didn't disappoint. Her husband enjoyed having a woman who looked like a trophy wife on his arm, even if she was a valued "first wife."
The only thing she would have changed about their life was that she was unable to have children. She had been through numerous in vitro fertilization procedures and none had worked. Both she and Rick had been tested and doctors couldn't find any reason why Jill had been unable to conceive. Her gynecologist had suggested they look into adoption, but it really didn't appeal to either of them. If they had been honest, they would probably admit they just wanted their very own little Rick or Jill. Finally, they had decided that parenthood wasn't going to happen for them. Wrapped up in a world of their own, maybe it had been for the best. If Jill could have seen into the future, she would definitely have known that their decision was the right one.
Rick had a private practice in Newport Beach and was on the Board of Directors at Newport Hospital, a silk stocking hospital catering to the wealthy. The hospital was built on high ground overlooking the Pacific Ocean with a spectacular view of the city and the yachts at anchor in front of multimillion-dollar waterfront homes. People dreamed of a life like hers, but what they didn't dream about was how fast it had become a nightmare.
A screenwriter would never have been able to sell the script that had become her life story; an esteemed cardiologist having a major heart attack in his office, then dying a few hours later at age 42 in the Emergency Room at the hospital where he practiced. If there was a God, this had to be the cruelest joke he or she had ever played. Jill would never forget the phone call. Rick's partner was in tears. She had driven frantically to the hospital. The shrill sound of the EKG machine attached to Rick had flat-lined, indicating that there was no heartbeat. It was etched forever in her mind. There had been a steady stream of nurses and doctors at the hospital going in and out of the Emergency Room, hoping against hope that the rumors were wrong, that Dr. Loren was still alive, that it was all some macabre misunderstanding. He was loved and respected by his colleagues and now, suddenly, he was gone.
Jill let the cool air blowing gently from the air-conditioning vent wrap itself around her. She started to feel a little better, somewhat like the Jill she had been before Rick's death. She let her thoughts roam. Perhaps it was time to stop running. But if so, what would she do with the rest of her life? How could she get up each morning without Rick beside her? Money certainly wasn't a problem. The problem was that she felt useless. She had always known exactly what to do and everything had seemed pretty simple. She just supported Rick, whenever and however she could. Now that he was gone, she felt like a balloon, randomly floating here and there.
Her friends had been telling her to get on with life, that the chapter with Rick was closed. She knew people were starting to avoid her, even longtime friends. She had become uncharacteristically quick-tempered, given to crying jags and temper tantrums. Recently, she had yelled at her favorite private shopper in Nordstrom's when she couldn't find Jill’s size in the striking St. John knit suit she wanted to try on. At night she cried herself to sleep, often thinking about the bottle of pills in her purse.
Jill had passed beyond the unwritten time society allotted for grieving. Whatever new tragedy was occurring in her friends' worlds was now the thing vying for their attention. Rick's death had become yesterday's news. The crying shoulders that had been so plentiful in the beginning had moved on. She was alone with her thoughts and memories of Rick.
She sincerely liked people and people genuinely liked her. She had been a top fundraiser for whatever charitable organization she had agreed to help. A master at getting donations for silent auctions or getting companies to underwrite events, Jill was highly sought after as a board member by local charities. If she didn’t take the sleeping pills, she'd need to think about what to do with her life. Maybe she could get a job with one of the nonprofit organizations to which she had donated so much time. She'd need a resume, but what could it say? Experience: nurturing my husband. She doubted if there were jobs where that was a requirement. She and Rick had never discussed her working because there had never been a need.
Another potential option involved her friend, Barbie, who was a staple at the local Buddhist temple and had been urging Jill to go to Nepal with her. There was a festival in November, the Mani Rimdu festival, where all the sherpas came from throughout the Himalayas to reconnect, party, and worship at the Thyangboche monastery. Barbie said they would fly to Bangkok, Thailand, and then go on to Kathmandu, Nepal. She kept telling Jill the change of scenery would be good for her and would take her mind off the past. God, it sounded exotic and beautiful. She had never been to that part of the world and maybe it would be good for her. There would be no past memories of Rick, only new memories on which she could build.
As she lay on the bed at the Blue Coyote, promising herself that she would look into both of these options after she got home, she drifted off to sleep, waking up two hours later feeling refreshed for the first time in months. She got dressed and decided to have another glass of wine and something to eat. She wouldn't need the pills tonight. She was beginning to think she might never need them.