Dear Marty,

By Donald Simmons

following the death of the well-loved and respected patriarch of the scofield family, a packet of letters hidden away by him, discloses a long term relationship with another woman. the book explores the impact of this news on his widow and adult children and the resulting changes in their behaviors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donald Simmons
• Release date: Aug 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301800001

Donald Simmons

I was introduced to creative writing while attending San Jose State University. Raising a family and operating my business precluded spending much time writing. As time went on I began to write more and more, finally finding my self with four complete manuscripts. Since retiring I've written three more, including DEAR MARTY,.I live in the Pacific Northwest with the love of my life, my wife Jacque. Our children and grandchildren all live within 20 miles of us.

Book preview

Dear Marty,

By Donald Simmons

Copyright 2013 By Donald Simmons

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, Licensing Notes

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CHAPTER One

It was a fitting day to bury Martin; cold, the sky gray, a constant drizzle, the wind gusting off the Columbia River; seagulls overhead, their wings in motion, stationary flying into the wind; the fallen leaves of autumn tumbling across the landscape. She was relieved to get all this over with, so she and his children could be alone and begin to deal with his death.

Most of those attending the memorial service had come to the cemetery for the graveside service. The cemetery, situated on two low hills overlooking the Columbia River, dated back to the late 19th century; holding the remains of veterans of both World Wars, was also the resting place of Martin’s parents and an older brother who, at the age of ten, had died of cancer.

Jean, her son Ronnie, and daughter Alexa, were seated by the grave, each of the hundred or so people attending was given a single flower; one by one each person went to the casket and placed their flower on it and had the opportunity to say good-bye. If he could, Martin would have given each of them a hug as he would have.

Sitting next to her mother, head on her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, Alexa was having an especially hard time with the interment. As a junior at Oregon State University, she had missed her father these past few years; having only seen him during the holiday breaks. The past two summers she had stayed in Corvallis, having landed good jobs both years. For her today, guilt was mixed with her grief, an abysmal concoction, for sure.

When someone had called from his office to tell her Martin had collapsed at his desk and had been rushed to Mercy Hospital, Jean had been incredulous, asking the man who had called if he were sure it was her Martin. She didn’t know whether to call Ronnie at his office and tell him about his father or call him when she got there. She had, in her frenetic state, forgotten she had a cell phone, calling him on her way to the hospital.

Asking after her husband at the main desk, the little old lady with blue hair, wearing the pink and white striped pinafore looked into her computer and told Jean her husband was in the emergency room; to please have a seat and she would be called when he was to be moved. Asking if she could see him now, she was told by the information Nazi that she wasn’t allowed in the emergency room, to please sit down and she would inform her as to when he was to be moved and to where she could go to see him.

After having sat for five fretful minutes, Ronnie came in the door. Seeing her he went to her and took her into his arms asking, Where’s Dad?

Pointing towards the elderly lady at the main desk, she told him, In the emergency room; the volunteer lady said to sit down and she would let us know when we could see him.

Grabbing his mother by the hand, and heading toward the door proclaiming ‘EMERGENCY ROOM-STAFF ONLY’, he led her inside where people in blue scrub suits were running hither, thither, and yon. The first person he came to, a little young woman whose scrub suit was three sizes too large, Ronnie declared, We’re here to see Martin Scofield.

The woman looked at him and then his mother and said, Are you family?

Yes, I’m his son and this is my mother; we want to see him.

Would you please wait in the room inside that door, please? The doctor will be with you shortly.

Ronnie looked a lot like his father; they were about 6’2", light brown hair and neither doubted they could turn the heads of members of the opposite sex. Where Martin had only completed two years of college, Ronnie had not only graduated but went on to earn his MBA. It was just like Ronnie not to obey the little old volunteer lady; like his father, he was going to do what he wanted.

Ronnie decided early on he wanted a career in business management; upon graduation landing a job as assistant controller at a local hi-tech firm, supervising all the accounting staff and being involved in the management of the company. He felt he had no place to go but up.

After sitting down and catching their collective breath, Jean suggested, Maybe I ought to call your sister and let her know what’s going on; what do you think?

Putting his arm around his mother Ronnie suggested,

I’d wait Mom, until we had something definitive to tell her.

Jean nodding her head in agreement, sat back in her chair trying to think of something to say; she had many questions for Ronnie, but couldn’t put them into words. A man, dressed in a blue scrub suit with a stethoscope wrapped around his neck , as one would wear a boa, came into the room, closing the door behind him, quietly asked,

You are the family of Mr. Scofield?

Ronnie stood up and brought his mother up to a standing position. Ronnie didn’t like the demeanor of the doctor.

Looking at Jean, he took her hand and said, I’m Doctor Solheim; I attended you husband. I’m sorry to have to tell you that your husband had an apparent heart attack at his place of business. He arrived by ambulance being administered CPR. We did everything we could; I’m sorry.

Jean’s legs collapsed under her as though her bones had turned to jelly; Ronnie supporting her until he could take her to the chair on which she had been sitting, allowing her to crumple like a rag doll, crying hysterically.

Shaking the doctor’s hand and thanking him for his efforts, Ronnie now felt it his place as the new head of the family to be strong and manage the situation as he would his own profession. He would take his mother home, call his sister and somehow get her up here, and begin making arrangements for his father’s funeral.

Since that dreadful day, everything had been a haze, as though reality was not quite in focus for Jean, Ronnie, and her daughter, Alexa, who had been driven home from college by her boyfriend, as she was upset to the point she didn’t think she could drive. The ensuing five days were a nightmare for Jean as her mind drifted from sadness to anger, sometimes within a few minutes, thinking of the happy times in their lives and then thoughts of despair as she pondered her future without him; having to make all the decisions in her life, whereas before Marty took care of all the difficult tasks, like money, and keeping the cars running, and where they would go for a weekend getaway, or even their annual vacation. Thank goodness Ronnie was here to assume the responsibilities for the funeral.

Returning to their home following Marty’s burial, Jean knew she had one more task to complete before everyone would leave her and the kids to be alone. Her friends had taken care to provide all the food and refreshments for those who wanted to see her after the ceremony. Just a few more hours, she told herself.

The house, bought new right after she and Martin were married (thanks to his father’s loan for the down payment), consisted of two stories, a three car garage, a large front yard, as the house was set back about thirty yards from the sidewalk, and Cape Cod windows. They had a mortgage-burning party a year ago last September, allowing the couple to take a long awaited trip to Europe, one they had been putting off for years.

Concluding her social obligations, everyone having left, the mess in the house cleaned up, it was now just her and her children. Alexa’s boyfriend had dropped her off the day her dad died and had immediately driven back to Corvallis. The three of them went into the den, the center of the family’s social life. Ronnie had been the rock Jean had needed to get through this ordeal; but now he was ready to deal with his own grief. Jean asked him to sit with her for a few minutes. Reluctantly he did so, knowing he was emotionally fragile right now; before he could sit down he began to sob like he hadn’t since he was a little boy. Jean took him in her arms, allowing him not to hold back, joining him in his misery. Alexa went to the both of them, huddling and crying as a family, acknowledging their collective loss of a man they admired and looked up to.

Alexa, the daughter Martin had always doted over, the proverbial apple of his eye had, after entering her freshman year, blossomed into a young woman, with all the physical accoutrements, attitudes and hormones that go along with it. She was always a pretty girl, but now could be said to be quite a beautiful woman. Martin always confessed that he was thankful she took after her mother and not him. She was a junior edition of Jean; 5’2", blue eyes, naturally blonde hair and a smile not requiring braces, as her brother had when he was fourteen.

The day after the funeral, Jean insisted they both pick up their lives where they had left them; Ronnie was to go back to work, and Alexa go back to school. Alexa called her boyfriend and Ronnie returned to his job. Both kids felt it was too soon for her to be alone, but she insisted it was what she needed now.

It seemed like a good time to start getting her life in order as a single woman. She was not about to move any of Martin’s personal effects, though. He had left his robe over the back of a chair in their bedroom and that’s where it’s going to stay; his medicine cabinet in their shared bathroom was going to remain the way he left it; the book on his bedside stand, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, will remain as he had left it, and she was not going to change his pillow case, as she could sense his familiar aroma, and wanted to always have that sensuous experience each night before she went to sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

Jean found herself at a loss for the first few days following Martin’s funeral. She received a number of phone calls from friends and relatives who were just hearing of Martin’s demise. One of those who called was Martin’s boss, Harold Chalmers.

I hope I’m not disturbing you, Jean. I just wanted to let you know I have a box here of Martin’s personal items and a couple of checks. I want to let you know we are processing Martin’s benefits and will mail you a check within the next few days. I’m not sure if you’re aware that through the Company, Martin had a $250,000 life insurance policy. You should be hearing from the insurance company within the next two or three days. When would be a good time for you for me to drop off Martin’s personal effects?

Thanks for calling Harold. You may drop them off anytime that’s convenient for you; I’m not planning on going anywhere soon.

How about around 5:00 this evening?

That would be fine.

Martin and Jean had socialized with Harold and his wife Barbara many times over the years. Harold was a few years younger than Martin, and came into the company not as an experienced manager, but the owner’s son-in-law. At first Martin had a hard time warming up to Harold, but as time went on, Martin accepted the new reality of his job, and had actually become friendly with Harold. They had played golf a number of times at Harold’s country club and had traveled to golf clubs in the area together. Jean often thought that Harold had what Martin called, ‘the warmies’ for her. He wasn’t as handsome as Martin, but he had a certain charisma about him that she found appealing. Harold was slightly shorter than Martin, a little stockier and was starting to lose his hair.

When Jean invited Harold in, he showed some uncertainty as to whether he should or not.

Gentle taking him by the arm,

Please come in Harold, if only for a few minutes. I need some adult company who will have a glass of wine and chat.

Jean, you said the magic words, ‘glass of wine’; I’ll just put this box right here if that’s alright. Would you like for me to carry it somewhere?

No, that’s fine right there. Go on into the den; would a cheap red be O.K.?

Cheap or expensive, my palate wouldn’t know the difference.

Entering the den carrying a tray with two empty glasses, a bottle of California cabernet, and a bowl of nuts, Jean inquired, Would you mind opening the wine? I rarely did it and I’m not sure I know how to use Martin’s newest gadget. My God, listen to me; I sound like a helpless old lady.

No you don’t Jean; he said as he took the opener from her, you sound like a person who has to regroup and find your center. I know you; you’ll do just fine. Give yourself some time, the great healer.

Harold opened the wine bottle and poured it; sitting down across from Jean he averred,

I want you to know Jean, how hard this has hit everyone at the office. When I started there, I was well aware that Martin wasn’t too keen on the idea of working for the boss’ son-in-law, with no experience, and fresh out of school. My father-in-law told me that my first task was to convince Martin that I wouldn’t be telling him what to do, and that I was to learn as much as I could from him. He made it clear, that if I couldn’t gain Martin’s trust, I would be out and Martin would take over. After a short time I realized Martin could have easily made life miserable for me, but chose instead to help me learn. For that I’ll always be grateful.

Martin told me that it was hard at first, but he grew to enjoy your company, and to occasionally beat you at golf.

With a belly laugh Harold said,

"Did