Triangles

By Lucy Stalma

Burt and Alison have been together five years, each yearning for different things in life. Alison's refusal to start a family with her husband sends him into the arms of another woman. His frustration over his failing marriage and wife's alcoholism pushes him to abuse the other woman in his life, Jackie. However, Jackie is smitten and infatuated to the point of accepting abject abuse at the hands of her lover. Burt cannot reconcile his feelings for either woman and remains torn between the two. To add a plot twist to the story Alison's unexpected pregnancy sends her, and Burt, both into a tailspin that caps off this suspense adult thriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucy Stalma
• Release date: Nov 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310968204

Lucy Stalma

Lucy Stalma lives in a western Pennsylvania Amish community called New Wilmington with her husband of over 30 years and their Siberian cat Ivan. She is the mother of two adult children.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Bobby fought the urge to slam the door shut as he looked inside the stainless-steel transport cart. It was parked outside the nurse’s station on One South. He surveyed the hall up and down to see if he was being observed and swore under his breath, Damn lazy aides and nurses. They shove those trays in there, and knock over cups, and spill it all over inside there. Who has gotta clean that crap up? Bobby, that’s who.

He wiped a sweaty palm on his soiled apron and sighed. It wasn’t easy being him. He doubted anybody in this cesspool understood that. As he bent over to pick up a discarded paper sheath from a straw on the floor at his feet, nurse Brenda Marshall scurried past him. Her crepe-soled white shoes made a slight squeak on the gray-speckled tile as she advanced down the hall. Like most of the others who worked this floor, she did not take time to stop and say hello to Bobby. In the past nine months that she had been employed at Heritage Hall, she had not even bothered to notice his presence, much less inquire as to his name; she was just much too busy. She quickly darted into Katie Brewer’s room, just past the water-fountain.

Bobby would have given the moon for Brenda to notice him. Just a smile from Brenda would have made his week. But it never happened, and was not likely to. Brenda was just far too pretty, too intelligent, too everything to ever give Bobby the time of day.

Even though he was what most people considered slow, he at least had enough smarts to know she was entirely out of his league. But I can dream, can’t I? he chuckled to himself.

Abruptly, Bobby was interrupted from his private thoughts by a loud, banging noise. Standing next to the cart, wildly whipping the side of it with his cane, was Leroy Adams. This was a common practice for Leroy. The cane bore notches from repeated instances of abuse, and now there was a sizable dent in the transport cart, as well. Bobby groaned to himself. He was really going catch heck from the kitchen supervisor, Burt Harris, when that cart went back down to the kitchen in the basement.

Burt had little patience for Bobby’s rambled explanations; he considered Bobby an accident looking for a place to happen. Bobby usually took the fall for many such occurrences around here, whether they were his fault or not. It saved Burt the time and aggravation of getting to the truth. In fact, Bobby knew the only reason he was lucky enough to be working here was he came on board before Burt did. If it had been up to Burt, Bobby would be back at The Industry Center, making brooms for a living.

Evan Stouton had hired Bobby; he had been the kitchen supervisor until his death. Everyone at Heritage Hall knew the reason Evan had a soft spot in his heart for Bobby was that Evan’s own grandson was a Down’s syndrome child. Bobby was like Evan’s adopted grandson. Bobby had cried for days when he heard the news that Evan had died in his sleep. It seemed that Evan and Jeff Bantry were the only people in the place that had treated Bobby with any respect. Until recently, until the great Kitchen Catastrophe Incident, Jeff had thought Bobby was a total geek, too. Burt, on the other hand, had only contempt for Bobby, and made no attempt to conceal it.

Leroy raised his cane and whooped the wall next to the cart, for good measure; to be sure he had gotten Bobby’s attention. Just to bring him back to the here-and-now.

Hey, you half-wit. They got my tray on that cart? I have been waitin’ past half hour for it. Person could starve to death around here before they feed you. What kind of hotel you runnin’ here, boy? It’s almost 5:30.

The crazed gleam was in Leroy’s eyes again, and Bobby knew if he didn’t make an exit soon, that cane would be pretty likely to make a dent or two in him. You could ask anyone in residence on One South and have that presumption confirmed. Yes, sir. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure that out.

Oh, yeah. He’d had dealings with Wild-Man Leroy before. After a few rounds with him, you got wise to how to play the game. If you didn’t, shame on you. How you played the game also hinged on whether or not Leroy had his medication yet or not. By the looks of it, Bobby assumed Leroy had skipped his last sedative.

Leroy had a habit of pocketing the green and white capsule in his mouth, and then spitting it out as the nurse turned her back and walked out the door. It amazed Bobby that he could get away with it. It would only be a matter of time, though, before the nurses caught on; they always did. Then the medication would be mixed with applesauce or ice cream, and Leroy would be none the wiser. Peace would prevail on One South once again. "But you’d have to get up pretty early to pull one over on old Leroy," Bobby mused to himself.

Leroy was in one of his dangerous moods. Bobby knew this by the way Leroy’s eyes darted up and down the hall; by the way he brandished the cane, poising it for action. Hey, BOY. Where’s my food at? He shoved Bobby aside and rummaged through the trays on the cart, slopping coffee and upsetting dishes in his search. The nervous tic in Leroy’s black, lined cheek pulsated. He ran a wrinkled, callused hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. Where’s my CHOW AT? he howled to no one in particular.

The cane started to make wide, sweeping arcs through the air as Leroy’s agitation increased. A couple of those arcs just missed Bobby’s legs. Bobby slowly backed up and stood across the hall. You had to be crazy to mess with Leroy when he got like this. Even Bobby knew better.

The commotion soon brought Leroy the attention he sought. Missy Crawford was in Helen Allford’s room spooning pureed peas into Helen’s mouth when Leroy’s ranting drifted down to her. Usually, suppertime at Heritage Hall was a noisy event to begin with, but Missy could tell this time Leroy was getting out of hand. Someone could get hurt.

Missy dabbed at Helen’s mouth and looked into Helen’s vacant, staring eyes. I’ll be back as soon as I can, Helen. Then we’ll finish the Shepherd’s Pie, OK? Of course, Helen made no attempt to answer. She didn’t even blink. Missy often wondered what this woman thought, if she even thought about anything anymore.

As she popped her head outside the room to scan the hall, she caught a glimpse of the Head R.N. Supervisor on the floor, Jackie Barton. Missy waved at her to get her attention. Jackie, don’t you think we should do something about Leroy? she asked. Jackie gave her standard reply, I’ll get to it. She glanced down the hall in the direction of the food cart. A mean smile curved the corners of her mouth. Looks like maybe Bobby is safe, for now.

Missy sighed. He’s getting pretty loud. She tried again to get Jackie to show some concern about the situation.

Jackie offered to finish feeding Helen, and told Missy to deal with Leroy the best she could. Missy slowly approached Leroy.

Scaring him was the last thing you wanted to do when he was like this, unless you wanted to meet up with that cane.

Hey, Leroy, how’s my man doing today? she said in a low tone of voice as she was within earshot of him. He stopped his yelling long enough to lower the cane and slowly turn to face her.

Missy, honey, they tryin’ to starve me, I swear on my mother’s grave. Where’s my food at? he whined. He backed a couple of steps away from the cart and peered into it, then glanced at her to emphasize his predicament. Willing herself not to let on how much he scared her, Missy held out her hand to Leroy.

Come on, bud. I know there’s a tray somewhere in this joint with your name on it. Let’s go find it.

Leroy broke into a wide, comical grin and showed her the few teeth he had left. It made Missy think of a jack-o-lantern when he smiled--his eyes lit up, and his grin was crooked, menacing, yet at the same time, funny. He cackled, ‘Bout TIME someone around here decided to feed me. Startin’ to think I’d have to call the police, or something.

As Missy neared Leroy, the oldies station that played over the intercom system during mealtimes broke into a lively 50's tune. It was the administrator’s idea; something about how the residents ate better and were more relaxed if they had background music to listen to. Missy bopped up to Leroy and said, Well, mister. Still got what it takes to shake a leg? Leroy flashed that grin again. Hey, Missy, I got what it takes. With that he grabbed her hand and shuffled with her down the hall, dipping to and fro as the music changed beat.

A transformation came over Leroy when he heard music. Few people in the place understood how he responded to it, but Missy had guessed. She’d noticed how Leroy would bob his head and tap his foot in time as the tunes would float down the hallway. It made him a different person, almost. It mellowed out his rough edges as nothing else could.

Standing across the hall and taking this all in, Bobby was in a mild state of awe of her ability to tame Wild Leroy. It had a magical quality; the way those two drifted in time down the hall together, laughing and singing the lyrics of the piped-in music to each other. Why, Missy was his Guardian Angel, no doubt about it!

A sharp poke in the small of his back brought his attention back to his work.

Screwing around instead of working again, eh, Bobby? Never get a promotion THAT way, you doof. Get that cart back down to the kitchen. It was Burt. Bobby didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. About the time he felt the poke in his back, his nose also picked up the scent of Burt’s cologne. Always the same stuff--a heady, woodsy smell that reminded Bobby of a forest. Bobby hated cologne. It gave him a headache. There were times when he wondered if Burt knew that, and wore it around him just to be mean. It wouldn’t surprise him.

I-I-I’m going, Burt. Just l-let me close these doors on the cart. He hated himself for stuttering around Burt; he didn’t do it around anyone else. It just reinforced Burt’s low opinion of him; he knew that. Burt slapped the back of the cart with his hand and snapped, Well, MOVE IT, you moron.

Burt glanced at Missy and Leroy down the far end of the corridor now, dipping and laughing to the next tune that came on.

An evil grin played on Burt’s lips as he watched Missy. Wouldn’t mind spending some time with that pretty little one, he muttered to himself. Bobby heard this, and drew in a sharp breath. For an instant, he was afraid for Missy, though he couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. There was something about Burt’s tone of voice and the way Burt’s eyes appraised Missy’s body that he didn’t like.

Missy and Leroy turned a corner and proceeded on to One East.

Burt smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the leg of his khakis, and coolly appraised his manicure. Suddenly, he realized Bobby was still there. Don’t you have somewhere to GO? he asked Bobby in a menacing voice.

Quickly, Bobby slammed shut the door of the cart, latched it, and gave it a shove down the hall. As he turned the corner near the elevator, from the corner of his eye he saw Burt sidle up to Jackie Barton as she exited Helen Allford’s room with an empty tray.

Jackie placed the tray on a table near the nurse’s desk, and Burt casually glanced around the hall to see who was watching. It appeared that the coast was clear, so Burt swung his large frame into the swivel chair behind the desk. Jackie hurried back behind the desk and perched on his knee, pretending to jot down notes on Helen’s appetite at dinner.

Burt leaned over and whispered something in Jackie’s ear. His mouth found her neck, and he planted a kiss there. She blushed and giggled. They both looked up to see Bobby down the hall, mouth open and intent on watching their every move.

A cold, calculating smile came to Burt’s face as his eyes met Bobby’s. He slowly raised his hand in a semblance of someone firing a gun, and pointed his finger at Bobby. He laughed, looked at Jackie, and they both broke into gales of laughter.

Bobby quickly pushed the cart down to the elevator and jabbed frantically at the button marked ↓. The look in Burt’s eyes had sent a chill down Bobby’s spine. It sent with it a warning, Keep your mouth shut or else.

The doors to the elevator opened. Bobby quickly yanked the cart inside with him, running over his toe in the process. Normally, this would have brought a few choice words forth from him, but right now he had other things on his mind. He was scared, big-time. His hand found the panel of buttons and he punched B. The doors of the elevator closed. Bobby leaned back against the wall and was grateful for the opportunity to be alone.

He didn’t want anyone to see how upset he was; he didn’t want anyone to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Didn’t his Daddy always say a man was supposed to be strong? He sure didn’t feel much like a man at the moment. There was something about Burt that seemed so evil to him. He really could use someone to talk to about it; he wished Daddy were still alive right now.

Back out on One South, Jackie turned to Burt and said, Hey, you know we have to be a little more careful about who is around when we get together. Burt shrugged and dismissed her fears.

So what if some idiot says something. WHO is going to believe him? I got him under control, though. Did you see the look on his face just before he left? No problem. He’ll keep his mouth shut. Burt laughed. Then Jackie’s face grew serious. No, I mean it, Burt. If she ever finds out... An annoyed look came to Burt’s face and he brought his finger to her lips. Ssssh. Keep your voice down. Alison will never find out if we just watch it from now on. Don’t go getting so paranoid. Everything will be JUST FINE, ok? Jackie sighed and got off of Burt’s knee. She smoothed the front of her white uniform and said in halting words, I think you better get back downstairs, OK? Dinner is almost over.

Burt stood so quickly he almost toppled the chair behind him. It bounced off a rack of patient charts, skidding on the Lucite sheet covering the floor beneath their feet. His eyes narrowed, and Burt whispered at her through clenched teeth, Listen, Jackie, don’t go getting that way with me if you know what’s good for you. No one will find out. Count on it.

Jackie recognized the threat in his voice. A few weeks before, Jackie had threatened to go to his wife and reveal everything about her involvement with Burt. But she never did, and realized that she never would.

CHAPTER TWO

Her last threat resulted in a severe beating from Burt. The two weeks that it had taken for the bruises to heal had been hell. Everyone at work had thought she had gone out-of-state to care for her terminally-ill aunt. Only the emergency-room staff at the local hospital knew different, and even they didn’t know the truth.

As Jackie watched him saunter off down the hall, she wondered how she had ever gotten involved with him. He wasn’t really what she wanted for herself, but there was something so dangerous, so reckless, and so sexy, that it was intoxicating. However, he also scared her to death. She knew he was about as close to psycho as you could get and not be locked up somewhere. Jackie didn’t doubt at all that he would be capable of killing her if she ever let on to Alison. The prospect that he would leave Alison was non-existent, she knew that. Alison stood to come into quite a bit of money once her mother died; and in the meantime, Burt appeared content to sit around waiting for the jackpot.

A sudden flashback of the night of the beating came back to Jackie; causing an involuntary shudder throughout her body. She had been in bed reading that night, a dreary murder novel she had no real interest in reading. But it beat the junk she flipped through with her remote control, sampling shows on TV. They had had a horrendous argument that afternoon. It had been the outcome of her insistence that he leave Alison and his outrage at her that she was issuing an ultimatum. Either he left Alison, or she would no longer see him. Her eyes had swollen from crying, but she tried to read, anyway. It was useless. The words blurred together, creating a senseless sea of black before her eyes. The book made as much sense as her relationship with him did. Jackie kept hearing his parting words in her ears, Nobody threatens me who doesn’t live to regret it.

She had turned the lights off after futile attempts to read, and stared at the ceiling. Tears streamed down the sides of her face and into her ears, but she was too depressed to care.

A creaking noise caught her attention. She turned her head to see Burt standing in the bedroom doorway, dangling her house key in front of his face. His legs were spread in a defiant stance; his face bore a triumphant smirk. Your stupidity really amazes me sometimes, Jackie. The least you could do is get your house key back from me before you decide to piss me off so bad. Not very smart of you.

Before she could think of any type of reply, he was on her, pummeling her with his fists, choking her. The only words she could gasp in between the shower of blows were, Burt, please. To which he only laughed and delivered yet another punch, another slap, another kick.

She tried to escape by writhing down under the covers, only to have him rip them off the bed and find her, like a jackal after its prey. There was no escape.

It seemed like hours later, after he left, that she regained consciousness. She rolled out of the bed and dragged herself to the bathroom to assess the damage. It didn’t seem like there were any internal injuries, but that would be up to the doctors to say for sure. She had to get to a hospital to find out.

Grabbing the door frame, she pulled herself up to a standing position and felt for the light switch. As it flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights, her blood ran cold as she saw the red, lipstick scrawl on the bathroom mirror. DON’T MESS WITH ME, BITCH.

Burt had left his message behind, and she was a fool if she didn’t heed it. But, suddenly the sight of her swollen face and body in the mirror created anger in her so fierce it was consuming. He was NOT going to get away with this. NO!

A wave of nausea came over her. Jackie swayed in the doorway, fighting an urge to pass out. NO! She told herself to keep some kind of control. Wobbling across the bathroom, she stripped off her ripped and bloody nightclothes, discarding them in a heap next to the tub. Arm shaking, she bent over and adjusted the water temperature before she stepped into the shower.

A trickle of pink ran down the drain as she stood in the shower and washed the remnants of the beating off her body. The purple and red bruises on her arms and legs ached as she ran a washcloth over them; she winced with the realization she would hurt much worse tomorrow. Right now she was still in a mild state of shock. Thank God for small favors. Leaning against the white tile of the shower, she gently wept.

How could she have known he would be this crazy? Was she just as crazy for loving him? At that moment she was sure she was. An abrupt, shrill ringing of the telephone suddenly registered in her brain. WHO would that be at this time of night? As the ringing continued, she realized that she knew. It was him. No one else she knew ever called this late at night.

The ringing ceased, and Jackie stepped out of the shower. The only sound she heard was her own labored breathing in her ears. Her eyes drifted back over to the mirror. The words he’d written screamed at her, repeating his threat, mocking her. A sob caught in her throat, and she staggered to the sink.

She jerked open the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of alcohol, tearing the lid off. With jerky movements, Jackie splayed the contents of the bottle onto the mirror. The words melted and dripped. Huge sobs racked her body as she tore toilet paper from the roll behind her, wadded it, and scrubbed at the offensive words.

It was as if by scrubbing the words off of the mirror, she could also erase him from her life. Oh, if only it were that easy. Mucus ran down her nose into her mouth and she dabbed at it with the wadded tissue; her whole face looked like something out of a Halloween nightmare. The telephone ringing again made her start and drop the wad into the sink.

Her body shook as she grabbed a towel and wobbled out of the bathroom. The ringing went on for what seemed like forever. Jackie inched across the bedroom to the telephone on her night stand. Slowly, she raised the receiver to her ear. Hello. It came out almost a whisper.

For a moment there was silence. Jaaack-ie. You there, pretty baby? Not too pretty now, are you? Mad, crazed laughter came through the receiver.

Clearly, he had flipped out. She stood frozen, her ear to the phone, blinking. Burt took a moment to be silent, just to let it sink in.

Leave me alone, Burt, she got out finally. Oh, Jackie, honey, did you get my message, by the way? Oh, yeah, I think that by now, you got the message, alright. He laughed, and right then, she was sure she would have shot him if he had been standing in front of her.

Neither of them spoke. It was like a stare-down, almost.

Burt broke the silence. Hey, Jack, if you can manage it, go look out the window. She slowly made her way over to the bedroom window and pulled back the drape. Burt was below, sitting on the hood of his car, cellular phone in hand. He waved at her as he recognized her presence, and gave her a little salute. Sing-songing, she watched as he spoke into the receiver of his phone, a lunatic grin widening on his face. I’ll be wat-ching you.

Jackie dropped the phone and dropped back against the bed, dropping the drape back into place. From the receiver, she heard Burt’s voice, Goodnight, sweetheart. Remember, everywhere you go, I’ll be there. Then there was a dial tone, and he was gone.

She heard his car pull away, then dressed as quickly as her injuries would allow. Now she had no doubt just how crazy he was, yet she decided it would not be in her best interest to contact the police. She decided not to tell anyone else what was happening. However, she was going to the hospital.

As she pulled into the parking lot at the hospital, she got out and wove her way across the parking lot to the entrance. It had been a miracle that she had managed to make it this far. Her vision was playing tricks on her. She just prayed Burt had not bestowed a head injury upon her during the beating.

As she stepped onto the entrance mat of the emergency department and the automatic door whizzed open, she heard a car pull up behind her. A short horn-toot followed. Reflected in the glass-plate window was Burt’s car. Jackie could see his taut face glaring intently at her in the reflection. He pulled into the nearest parking space and turned off the engine.

Adrenaline shot through her veins at that moment and Jackie found the strength to walk inside. Fear could do wonderful things for a person at times, she told herself. At that moment she had never been so scared in her life.

She kept expecting to hear his footfalls behind her as she entered the building. It took awhile for her mind to register the fact that she was safe, at least for now.

The next two hours in the exam room were among the worst in her life; she came to the realization that she was an effortless liar, and wondered sardonically if it was something she picked up from Burt. The attending doctor didn’t really buy her story about being mugged while on the way home from the grocery store, but she stuck to it, anyway. She was not going to recant the first version and tell the truth. THE TRUTH could get her killed.

Tucking a prescription for painkillers into her purse, she struggled out of the flimsy hospital gown she sat shivering in during the interrogation and got dressed. The doctor had tried to pressure her into making out a police report. She held onto the claim that it was dark and she hadn’t seen who it was. Sighing, the doctor asked if she wanted to file a report. Jackie sobbed, NO. Just let me go home. She wasn’t sure if the police would be involved or not; she just wanted out of there, now that she had ascertained that no serious injury had been done.

Doctor Mathews shook his head, disgusted by her blatant lies. The nature of your injuries doesn’t indicate the type of attack you described. I know you’re lying. Why are you protecting this creep? He walked out of the exam room to find the nurse who had seen Miss Barton when she first walked in for treatment.

Jackie hopped down off the exam table, clutching her purse to her side. Darting to the door, she peeked outside to see where the doctor and nurses had gone to. It was all clear, so she scooted down the hallway. She had already decided she was not going to stick around and wait for the discharge papers.

Head down and walking as quickly as she could, she didn’t see a phlebotomist step out of a nearby room. The collision caused the blood-drawer to drop her tray of tubes and supplies. Glass tubes in assorted sizes with purple, blue, red, and yellow caps rolled across the floor. A bottle of alcohol spun across the floor like a soda-pop bottle spun at a party to determine who got to kiss who. Bar-coded tube labels spewed across the floor in a graceful flutter, like yellow fall leaves drifting lazily out of a tree.

As she stooped down to help clean up the mess, the venitech got a glance at her face and pushed her away. Hey, lady, that’s OK. I‘ll get it. Do you need some help or something? Jackie was touched by the look of concern on the woman’s face. N-no, no I’m fine. I have to go now. As Jackie broke into a near-gallop down the hall toward the exit, the phlebotomist shook her head and said, You sure don’t look fine to me.

Towards the end of the hallway, Jackie could hear voices.

The idea that they would find her and ask more questions terrified her. Her gaze found a restroom labeled WOMEN and she dashed in, hoping they had not seen her enter. As if by reflex, she leaned over and locked the door. The mirror above the sink reminded her of her present condition. When she could hold back the tears no longer, she leaned against the toilet-stall and let a river of tears and grief consume her. There was no longer any holding it back.

It was a long time before she could pull herself together, but when she looked up, she saw the sun starting to stream through the window of the restroom. Morning was coming, and she had to do something about reporting off work. There was no way makeup was going to hide what Burt had done to her the night before.

She quickly washed her face and calmed herself the best she could. Her bruises were starting to blacken now, and the pain from them throbbed. With a shaking hand, she ripped open a sample-tablet painkiller from its package and washed it down with water from her cupped hands at the faucet. Running a comb through her hair, she fabricated a story to tell the Nursing Director when she called in. It had to be one they might believe. Her future depended on it.

Outside the restroom,