The Mirror Image at Acadia

By W. Scott Mitchell

While unknowingly engulfed in a scheme of betrayal by his wife and his best friend, Greg finds himself in the midst of a complex plan to transfer money to foreign terrorist organizations. His actions are often manipulated by a former college girlfriend who will guide him through a puzzle of suspense, love, and murder. Believing Jill to be the “girl of his dreams”, Greg follows Jill on a mystical journey from which no man returns

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. Scott Mitchell
• Release date: Dec 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311228925

W. Scott Mitchell

W. Scott Mitchell came of age during the cultural revolution and movements that dominated the 1960's. It was not until the late 1990's when he began to write fiction. He incorporates an aspect of philosophy and psychology into each of his novels. The subplots are discussed on his website for readers to consider as they review his works. He believes the subplot is an important part of the work. Mitchel hopes to attract readers who examine everyday human character as the focus of attention to larger social and personal issues within the subplot. For example, in "Emily's Last Obsession" sexual content is used not for the sake of sexual content, but rather to demonstrate betrayal, self deception, and psychological instability. In the novel "Coincidence by Design", a mystical experience is a tool to examine life after death. If you enjoy a glimpse "into the mind" of the character, then Mitchell offers an interesting opportunity. However, if you are looking for "shoot em up...blow em up" every three pages, then you might want to look elsewhere. "My background allows me to develop characters who must confront issues common to us all. Reflected in my novels are the twists and turns we often take in life. However, the predictability we crave is often missing. I invite you to post your comments and questions on my website at http://wscottmitchell.weebly.com/ or on my Facebook page."

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The Mirror Image at Acadia

by

W. Scott Mitchell

Copyright 2013 by W. Scott Mitchell

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http://wscottmitchell.weebly.com/

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Other Books by W. Scott Mitchell

Chapter 1

Greg assumed every city had a bar named McKenzie’s. He wondered if a tavern with any other name could conjure up images with such descriptive power. The first night he came to McKenzie’s tavern, he brought with him the same set of expectations others might have.

The McKenzie name led him to believe he would find a gregarious environment where the patrons would sing and laugh the Celtic night away. The bar maids would have flaming red hair and little temperament for younger men with a tendency to cross the line of self-indulgence. The barkeeper would know each customer by first name and recognize his or her consumption limits. Such a bar would almost certainly have a fireplace around which to gather. As the wood burned and smoke poured up the chimney, the group could make a toast to almost anything and everything. He wondered if anyone could resist such a marvelous place on a cold, snowy night.

Sometime in his mid thirties, he was fortunate to realize that expectations were a fundamental flaw of human nature. If what we expect never comes to pass, then we are condemned to disappointment. On the other hand, if our expectations are met, then the joy is diminished by virtue of the fact that the outcome was fully anticipated.

McKenzie’s met none of his expectations but was a wonderful place to visit. The lighting was dim, but just bright enough that he could see the expression on Christy’s face. If they were happy, sad, or just thoughtful, it was important they see each other’s expression. Each facial expression was an instant betrayal should either stray too far from the truth, or perhaps withhold important information.

The seats at their table were soft and relaxing and their comfort was not a minor consideration given they spent hours entangled in each other’s life. A yearlong tradition required they meet on the third Thursday of each month. Christy formulated the plan to meet more than a year ago and their agreement required they speak only at McKenzie’s tavern. She developed this plan based on the concept that good news would get better and bad news softened with time. Barring an emergency or a matter of similar importance, they rarely strayed from their agreement.

This being the third Thursday in January, their ritualistic meeting was less than ten minutes away. Greg had arrived early to secure their special table, thus preventing unknowing souls from distracting their private deliberations. The news he brought with him tonight would most likely bring some ridicule from his friend but watching her expression would be as much fun as the comments she was sure to make.

His wait was shorter than usual as she also arrived early. Greg had not seen her until she peaked around one of the large round support columns, offering her typical broad smile. For several moments, Christy watched him with her expression suggesting a look of curiosity.

He went to where she was standing, stopping only briefly to admire her. Christy’s sandy blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Without question, Greg believed she had the most beautiful blue eyes, and tonight her light blue turtleneck sweater accented them.

He put both arms around her and gave a tight squeeze. He felt her pat his back several times, as she reciprocated his hug. After a few moments, he took Christy’s hand, leading her to their table.

After sitting down, she looked directly at him. Don’t you have something you need to tell me?

You are unusually quick getting to the pint tonight. He replied with a look of surprise.

She did not respond to his observation. Instead, Christy glanced at the piano player and then stood up. She walked across the room to the musician and whispered in his ear as he continued to play. He nodded his head before she stuffed a few bills in his brandy snifter. Christy then smiled at Greg as she made her way back to their table.

After thinking about it, he realized they had one of the most satisfying relationships one could imagine. They were always playing psychological games with each other and there was never a hurtful word spoken.

On occasion, Greg found himself envious of her husband. Upon reconsideration, he realized Christy’s husband should have been jealous of him. Greg never once had to be concerned about the status of the checkbook, car repairs or walking the dog. These were her husband’s problem. The day-to-day events in Christy’s married life remained distant from their friendship.

There was a friendship rule to which they each fully subscribed. They never discussed their outside relationships with each other. The time they spent together was reserved for their friendship. If they were to allow such a transgression to occur, then the distraction would take away from their peaceful coexistence.

When Christy returned to the table, she took her seat across from Greg. He is going to play a special song for us which I chose just for you. Besides, I already know what you are going to tell me.

He appeared surprised by her comment as she continued to speak while watching his eyes. He is going to play Interlude. I thought that would be appropriate for us."

Greg’s voice reflected his apparent disappointment. You and I have been trapped in the interlude ever since college. We never seem to find a way to move to the next level.

Christy reluctantly conceded the accuracy of his comment with her own sense of regret being apparent in her voice and expression. But at least the first act of our relationship was very good.

Our college days were some of the best, and by the way, you look great tonight. Blue is a good color for you. Greg noted as he waited patiently for her song to be played.

She replied with a smile. Greg, experience tells me that when you’re trying to avoid giving me an explanation for something, flattery is not one of your most effective weapons.

He was quick to react. Does that make my compliment any less true?

She tugged at the hair in front of her ear before she answered him. In the interest of time, I will admit that you believe I’m beautiful and that blue is my color. Then you can tell me why you’re losing your mind.

Christy made it clear she expected some explanation from him. Can I assume that you have been talking to Paul and he told you I was leaving town for a few weeks?

All he would tell me was that you were going to Bar Harbor in the middle of the winter for no apparent reason. He thought it was a little strange, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else. She replied.

Greg had no idea what information their mutual friend had given Christy, nor did he have a reason to keep anything from her. There is nothing else to tell. I am going to Bar Harbor, but only as a stopping over point. I’m going to the Acadia National Park, where I have rented a cabin for two weeks.

Christy looked doubtful as Greg informed her of his plans. Don’t tell me you have met a young lady and are taking her away for two weeks.

Greg shook his head. Don’t be ridiculous. Our history together should tell you I’m still waiting for you, even if it takes thirty more years.

Will you be serious? Who are you taking with you? She asked with determination.

Christy seemed to be concerned and her request deserved his honesty. I’m not taking anyone. I’m going by myself.

She nodded her head, again while still doubting his story. You’re going to spend two weeks in an isolated mountain cabin all by yourself. I’m sure you don’t know how to ski and you’re not athletic enough to hike, so what does a grown man do in a cabin for two weeks? You’ll starve to death. How will you find a deli in the forest?

He smiled as she finished speaking. Your confidence gives me a great deal of inspiration.

She looked down at her drink. I’m worried about you. The winters up there are harsh. You are, after all is said and done, a city dog. You are a person of philosophy, not a lumberjack.

Greg was somewhat surprised by her comment. You really don’t have much confidence in me, do you? Can you think of a better way to indulge my interests? Primarily, I’m going to do a lot of photography.

He was also somewhat surprised by the fact that she had not considered that aspect of his trip, given she knew he loved photography.

Christy looked directly at him. If we’re both being honest, then I think you are going for an entirely different set of reasons. Face the facts Greg, you haven’t been the same person ever since you and Kate split up.

He immediately took advantage of the rules she had defined for their meetings. We are not going there. We agreed we would not discuss our outside relationships.

She stared at him with a pouting expression. Her eyes pierced through his very existence. Greg smiled at her for several minutes hoping she would relent, but to no avail. Her stare was fixed and determined. He knew Christy well enough to know she would outlast him.

Greg broke the silence, as she knew he would. I’ll be fine. I’m okay now. I’m getting over it.

Paul tells me you have been depressed. Some of your friends don’t know how great your dog and pony show is, but I know you better than anyone else does. You are fighting this thing on the inside.

He looked past her as she spoke. You make more out of his situation than you should. It’s been a weird year, but you have to remember, it’s just a thing.

She was not as accepting of his declaration as he had hoped. You discovered your wife was having an affair and you have the nerve to sit here and tell me it is just a thing. Damn you Greg. I deserve a better answer than that.

Christy was right and to fail to acknowledge it was insulting to her intelligence. What do you want me to say? Would you like to hear the gory details? Is there anything I could tell you that would change the situation?

She chose to ignore the apparent argumentative tone in his voice. I want you to tell me whatever it takes to make you feel better. If you go to the mountain cabin, then you will have nowhere left to run and I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

He smiled at her. So, you think I’m running away. What is the big deal about my going away for a couple of weeks?

Christy hesitated for some time before she responded, and Greg knew she was going to choose her words carefully. Christy looked at the piano player as she spoke. Paul was a little concerned about you. He’s not sure you are coming back.

At this point, Greg was also confused. Why wouldn’t I come back?

She looked at him with an awkward expression. I think he believes you’re considering putting an end to it all.

For the first time that evening, he understood her concern. Listen Christy, Paul worries if the oil has not been changed in the airplane engine before he flies. He worries about what Christy Brinkley will look like when she is seventy-eight years old. Paul worries about everything.

She smiled as she nodded in agreement. That’s true. Anyway, I want you to give me the address of the place where you’re staying. I may decide to spend a few days with you.

Are you serious? He asked, not entirely sure how to take her comment.

She pressed her lips together before she answered him. Richard is going to London for three weeks on business.

Why don’t you go with him? That would be a great trip. Greg asked.

Her first inclination was to stare at him with her blue eyes squinting slightly. I wasn’t invited.

His first thought was to reassure her that her husband’s trip was just a business venture. Greg had no idea if that would be an accurate statement, but it seemed to be a safe response.

Before Greg could say anything, she continued her explanation. Several of the executives are taking their spouses, but not Richard. He said he will be under too much pressure and we wouldn’t have any time together. It would be so much better if he would just tell the damn truth.

Taking a sip of his drink, Greg spoke into the glass. What is the truth?

She leaned back in the booth with her head resting against the padded cushion. The truth is that I exist somewhere on the same level of importance as the coffee table and chicken noodle soup. Both are nice to have around, but neither creates a lot of excitement.

This does not sound like the fairy-tale relationship I had expected from the two of you. He noted with some degree of skepticism.

Her reply was slow in coming. I thought we were not supposed to discuss our relationships.

Greg was convinced she would agree with his suggestion. Let’s make an exception tonight and suspend the rules. I don’t know Richard very well, but I always imagined you being in a perfect relationship. I thought you were happy.

She smiled at him for a moment. Happiness is not the first word that comes to mind. We’re tolerant, complacent, civil, and emotionally detached. Those are the first words that come to my mind.

Greg didn’t react to her comment at first. He was perhaps lost in his thoughts, still shocked by her declaration. He concluded had he been more perceptive, he would have considered the possibility that she met him each Thursday for less than obvious reasons.

Maybe Greg was someone with whom she could have a moral affair. Still, she had never discussed problems during their lengthy history of meetings. Greg knew what he had derived from their friendship, but he had never stopped to question what was in their relationship for her.

She continued her previous thoughts. Greg, I want you to take care of yourself. I am going to need a good friend.

She paused to listen as she heard the piano player begin to play Interlude. After several minutes of silence, she spoke in a soft voice as she continued to absorb the music. Things are going down hill for me and I never expected to find myself in this situation. It never crossed my mind that my life could be turned upside down.

Greg knew he had to say something to make her feel better. Christy, it’s just a business trip. Aren’t you going a little overboard here? You know, maybe you are making more out of this than there is.

She was quick to reply. Several months ago, Gary saw Richard having a late night drink with one of the girls in his office.

Greg tried to remain optimistic. You and I are having a drink in a romantic little bar, but we are not having an affair.

She looked at him with a sense of exasperation. And when we leave are you going to give me a deep throat kiss and then pat my ass out on the street? Are you going to rub my legs under the table?

There was little Greg could say in the face of her argument that would bring her any peace of mind. Nevertheless, he tried. Maybe that which appears obvious is not a reflection of the truth.

At this point, she looked down at the table and shook her head. As she looked up, their eyes met, and a soft smile came to her face. Thank you for trying, but sometimes things that appear obvious do reflect the truth.

He smiled back at her. You don’t have to wait for the third Thursday if you need to talk to somebody.

I’m serious about coming to see you in Acadia. Maybe we could build a fire, pour a glass of wine, and tell the rest of the world to go straight to hell. What do you think?

Greg was hesitant when he answered. Don’t you think that might complicate your situation with Richard?

Christy was quick to respond. I don’t think he would ever know or care and at this point, I don’t really care either. But, if he does find out, then maybe he’ll see if the shoe fits as well on the other foot.

Greg was a little more direct with his response. I guess my question would be this. Are you going to Acadia with me to get revenge or to take some time to clear your brain?

She was thoughtful as she replied. The fact that you are a man may make this hard for you to understand, but I am going to tell you anyway. Did you know you could see a secret in a person’s eyes? You can watch the eyes dilate and the truth just comes pouring out without a word ever being spoken. You can watch the tension build in someone’s hands and shoulders. That first instance of a facial expression when your words touch upon a nerve is a dead give away. If you are very perceptive, you can watch someone formulate a lie.

Greg was quite sure the look of bewilderment was evident all through his expression. I understand what you are saying, but I don’t have a clue where you are going with this.

She threw up her hand for the waiter. We can talk more about it when I get to Acadia. You will let me come, won’t you?

Greg was so unsure of her motivation that he knew he would question his decision regardless of what it might be. When he failed immediately to answer her, she employed an old trick that she often used on him. Her eyes squinted as though she were trying to pull a response from him.

In thinking about it, he didn’t know why she even bothered to ask his permission to come to Acadia. She knew he would not refuse any request from her. But then again, one of the things he loved so much about Christy was that she never took advantage of his friendship and she would have been just as quick to help him.

He then smiled at her. "You can