Bound By Birth

By Randall Wheeler

How many people do we innocently meet every day and invite into our lives without a second thought? The story of a family that leaves the rat race of a corporate career for a more fulfilling life in the Florida Keys takes a thrilling twist when an online acquaintance makes up her mind that she deserves just such a life as her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randall Wheeler
• Release date: Feb 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452476186

Randall Wheeler

A three decade veteran of Corporate America, Randall has traveled the globe and has had many exciting experiences. An opportunity to pursue his writing dream arose when he became a casualty of the economy of 2009 and was blindsided in a corporate downsizing. With the challenges faced in a tough job market, he turned his attention to completing and publishing his fictional thriller. Randall has three sons, a daughter and three grandchildren. Living in Franklin, Massachusetts, he is currently working on his next two novels, both thrillers that are intended to let the reader escape their day-to-day world and experience worlds unknown.

Book preview

Prologue

Click, click. Click

Click-click, pause,

Click, click, click, click

The muffled sounds escaped from the plastic keyboard as her fingers danced to the tune of her thoughts. The soft rhythm soothed her subconsciously as a mother's heartbeat soothes a newborn. It transported her mind into the ethereal zone of digital living where one can be anyone one desires to be.

Mommy? seven year old Michelle said softly. Michelle knew better than to disturb Mommy when she was in her private room, but her stomach was growling from hunger and her little brother Stevie was crying at the foot of the stairs.

Michelle's voice invaded her trance with a sharp pain, as though ice water had just been poured down her neck. She stopped typing and slowly turned toward the little girl silhouetted in the doorway. She didn't notice her daughter's stringy dirty hair that lay on her shoulders in uneven lengths. Nor did she notice her wrinkled and stained dress that two weeks ago was a size too big but now was double that.

What have I told you about bothering me when I am in here? she said in a measured hissing tone.

Michelle could see in her Mommy's eyes and tone of voice that the wall of the dam was thin and wouldn’t hold back the dark watery fury for long.

I know Mommy but Stevie and I are so hungry and Daddy's not home yet. Michelle answered in the most polite manner she could muster knowing she was only one poorly chosen word or incorrect inflection away from Mommy's verbal and physical onslaught.

Your good-for-nothing Daddy is probably drunk somewhere, hanging outside a little girl's school trying to find a girlfriend. She still spoke in a controlled voice, but she was approaching her boiling point quickly. She didn’t have time for this and just wanted this annoying little pest to go away.

Your unfinished cereal from this morning is still on the table. When you finish that you can have more. You know where the cereal box and milk are.

Michelle pictured the bowl of soggy Fruit Loops that greeted her when she came home from school this afternoon. There hadn’t been time to finish the cereal as she was running late this morning. Mommy never got up with the kids and Michelle was usually real good about getting right up, dressing, eating and getting to the bus stop on time. But this morning was rough. Michelle hadn’t slept well at all last night; she couldn’t seem to get comfortable and every time she turned in bed, her shoulder cried out in pain from where Mommy had thrown her against the wall earlier that day.

But Mommy, Michelle stopped mid-sentence when she saw the icy fire in the glare coming at her as though it were the approaching laser sword of that bad guy Darth Vader coming straight for her eye.

Yes Mommy. I’m sorry I disturbed you, Michelle said quickly then turned and ran, hoping not to hear the heavy stomp of her Mommy behind her.

But Michelle’s Mommy had no intention of chasing after the little shit. Instead turned back to her flat screen monitor and started reading the bulletin board posts. Like a light switch flipped, her mind instantly left the physical confines of the small old house in Minnetonka, Minnesota. She felt the comforting, gentle sway of the cyberspace around her like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

Now what do we have today my little pretties, She said, mimicking the voice of the wicked witch of the West. She loved that character and ever since she had first seen the golden oldie with Judy Garland, she had imagined herself as the daughter of that thin hooked nose lady. She felt comforted by her wicked smile and the raucous laugh of her fantasy mother made her laugh with fond pleasure.

She scanned the listings, in order of the most recent. Today had been a busy day on the board. She regretted having missed the action of the posts today. That was when the stay-at-home moms were most active of course. While their precious hubbies were off bringing home the bread, these spoiled little prima donnas luxuriated in the easy life. The hardest thing they had to do all day was decide whether they wanted to watch Dr. Phil or Ellen with their cranberry cosmopolitan and shrimp cocktail.

She hated these self-absorbed bitches. They never understood just how lucky they had it and took everything for granted. While she was working her ass off at the airline ticket counter, dealing with nasty travelers (the tourists were the worst with their lack of patience and self righteous attitudes) and supervisors who didn’t know their ass from their elbows, these self-entitled divas were posting cutesy inspirational messages to each other, helping each other justify their existence as drains on their families. Or worse yet, they complained on and on about their husbands. They whined about being alone so much or not getting to go out and do the things they wanted to do. She loathed how mean they were to their poor hard working husbands. They were all just like her mother had been and they were all driving their men into early heart attacks just like her mother did to her sweet loving father. She wanted to twist all their necks and watch their eyes as the life drained out, scolding them on how they should have been so grateful for what they had and how they should have worshipped their husbands.

Now fully worked up, she opened the post from HeavenSentAngel and began to read:

Today was a good day ladies. My morning sickness has subsided and I even held down eggs and toast this morning. Eric says it must be a boy because his dear mother (what a joke) says she was the same way when she had Eric. I wish he would stop telling her everything because she just keeps sticking her nose in all the time with these little wisdoms. Anyone else have such torture too? LOL. Keep healthy ladies – seven months to go!

She felt like puking herself. She was pregnant too, but they never saw her post anything about how tough it was for her.

Suck it up you baby, she said aloud in the dark.

The Pregnancy Board had become an obsession ever since her friend Kathy had told her about it. Not that Kathy was pregnant or had visited the board herself. Hell, Kathy should be so lucky to get pregnant because it would mean that some poor guy was dumb enough to have sex with her fat ass. But Kathy’s sister had been pregnant and had told Kathy about the board.

The Board was addictive, especially to someone with a highly addictive nature to begin with. So it was no surprise that she soon found herself spending almost all her free time online, reading about the pathetic lives of these women who were all due in the same month. She hadn’t been pregnant then. It was before that disgusting pig of a husband of hers had snuck into her during the night when she had been sleeping from a particularly heavy dose of Nembutal. He had done the nasty and impregnated her before she had come fully awake and pushed him off. The rat bastard. It was the last time she had ever let him get close enough to touch her let alone have sex with her.

She had gotten involved with the Boards almost a year before she had gotten pregnant. It had been so easy to pretend that she was in the same condition as the other stupid twits on there. She had taken an instant disliking to the spoiled brats on the Board as they laid bare their insignificant lives to complete strangers. She had often wondered if they were for real or if they were pretending like she was. It was easy to spot the perverts, the guys who were pretending just so they could join the female conversation. But she outed most of them as soon as she asked what size panty hose they wore. In fact, it had become a game for her, hunting down these creeps and then unmasking them in front of all the women on the Board. It was a game she thought herself to be masterful at even though she knew that the occasional guy probably slipped past her.

OTP she had called it, Outing The Pervs. The women on the Board loved the stories of each new vanquished foe. But after a while, as with most everything in her life, she grew bored of the OTP game. It was then that she had become obsessed with the lives of the women on the Board and the first inklings of her fantasy arose. It was a fantasy of relieving them of their perfect lives and showing how a good man should be treated. It was a fantasy that grew rapidly. It was a fantasy that had taken over her every waking moment until she could no longer just think about it casually. She had evolved to the planning stage for her very first real encounter.

That first encounter had not been successful at all, in fact, it had gotten dangerously close to her being caught. But it left her all the more hungry for the next encounter and she replayed the scenes in her mind over and over, identifying each mistake and designing a way to avoid it next time. It was this very same mental review and planning that she was engaged in as she opened each post.

It was this conniving mental exercise that was disrupted by the gentle rapping on the doorsill of her room. She looked around, quickly this time, and saw her shithead husband standing in the doorway, his thin frame leaning against the jab.

What the fuck do you want? she spat out at him.

Easy Baby. I just got home, he said softly. He knew the fragile ground he now treaded upon and oh how he knew the repercussions that could follow should that ground crack.

`You think I care? Who were you out screwing tonight asshole? And didn’t I tell you to stop calling me Baby? Her words were heavy in the air and venomous, leaving him a bitter aftertaste.

Ok, I hear you. I can see you are busy with your online friends. I guess I was just hoping that maybe there was some dinner in the oven or something. I know the kids are hungry and I had to skip lunch today again. Deadlines you know. he replied, ignoring her debasements.

There you go again you idiot! Why would you think tonight was any different than any other night? Haven’t I told you that you my job is not to cook and clean for your sorry ass? And don’t even start with kids. They have been bothering me all day. In fact, your little whore of a daughter was just here bugging the hell out of me. She’s lucky I’m in such a good mood or I would have slapped her silly. She waited for him to reply.

But he knew it was no good. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way a long time ago and he held his tongue.

When he didn’t reply, she smiled and said, Now get your dirty self out of my sight and let me alone. And make sure those little bastards don’t bother me anymore.

Ok Baby. We’ll let you alone. Before he could stop himself he had done it. He had called her Baby again. He turned on his heels hoping to avoid her retort.

You stupid mother fucker! she screamed as she jumped out of her seat, heading for the door. Get the fuck back here and don’t run away from me you sniveling coward. Stand up! Be a man! Oh why couldn’t you have been more like my Father? Now there was a real man. she continued screaming while she followed him into the upstairs hallway.

He was standing at the top of the stairs, his back to her. He was taking the first step downward when she shoved him hard from behind. His foot flew out into empty air and he knew instinctively that he would not stop till he reached the bottom. He tried to relax to soften the blow.

She watched his arms flapping as he lunged forward. By the time he hit the first time, halfway down the wooden steps, she was already a third of the way down. She landed a solid kick to his ass when he landed and it propelled him faster toward the hard wood floor of the foyer. Not being able to hold it back, she let out a twisted laugh and kept her descent toward him.

He hit the floor with a thud and immediately rolled over, getting to his feet as fast as he could before the fury of her tempest assaulted him full force. He ran before he had regained his balance and in doing so, glanced off the wall as he entered the kitchen with such force that the house shook.

She knew where he was going. It was where he always ran. To the garage, out the side door, and into the tool shed in the back yard where he would lock himself inside.

God damn chicken shit! she shouted as he reached the door to the garage and flung it open, almost diving head first.

She spied her daughter and son sitting at the Formica topped kitchen table, a bowl of colored cereal in front of each of them. They were both crying while trying so hard not to look at her.

And what are you two whining about? she yelled, her rage now re-directed.

They still did not look up from their cereal bowls but their crying grew softer, yet deeper. They knew the penalty of participation in her rants.

I’m talking to you god damn it! Look at me when I speak to you! Spittle was now flying from her mouth, threatening to turn to white foam any second.

She charged the table and grabbed her daughter by the hair, wrenching her head back. At the same time, she swung her left hand, closed fisted, at her son, catching him full in the jaw.

Stop it Mommy. Stop it! You’re hurting Stevie. Please stop it. her daughter pleaded, knowing she had crossed the boundary but not caring. All she cared about at the moment was protecting her little brother.

She brought her full attention back to her daughter, walked behind her and slammed her head, face first into the bowl of cereal and held it there.

Michele struggled and tried to lift her head from the white cold liquid, but her Mommy’s grip was too tight. Her last thought before the world went dark was, Please God. Please make it stop.

Chapter One

Paul woke up with the sun in his eyes and the buzz of the alarm clock filling his ears. His mouth was dry and he could taste a thick, sticky foulness on his tongue. He was not an early riser, preferring instead to stay up till the wee hours of the morning clicking through the TV channels while lying in bed. He rubbed his eyes and brushed the hair from his face. It always took awhile to wake up and coffee was his stimulant drug of choice each morning. He was no coffee connoisseur, but he did know what he liked - a special whole bean vanilla blend from Tahiti that he ordered online. He had always really been more into the caffeine and its wondrous rejuvenating power than the taste. He was not a whole human till he had his three large cups of freshly ground coffee with Vanilla Coffeemate which for some might be overkill, but for him was perfection.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed both feet on the mahogany hardwood floor. The coolness of it felt good. Stumbling toward the bathroom, he flipped the light switch and looked in the mirror. Not an outstanding reflection, but good enough for government work as the old saying went. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and scratched his ass reflexively. He yawned and turned toward the toilet to drain the ole lizard. That first morning piss was always the most satisfying and seemed to go forever. It was hard to believe that his body held that much liquid. He gave a couple of good shakes then walked back into the bedroom.

The empty bed told him that Jill had already left for work and he had to get the kids ready for school. His usual pair of ratty green bush shorts and an old white Hussong’s Cantina T-Shirt completed his dressing. Back in the bathroom he put mint toothpaste on his orange toothbrush. He looked at the apparatus for a minute smiling at the futuristic design of the handle and head. Tilts and curves here and there for maximum effectiveness. He guessed there were only so many things these companies could do to keep improving the toothbrush to gain or keep a market leadership position. He wondered what they would look like ten years from now. He slid the toothbrush into his open mouth and began scrubbing. There was no recognizable brushing pattern; rather he just moved it around his mouth, covering all his teeth with vigorous strokes.

Swishing and spitting to finish the task, he wondered what Jill had laid out for the kids to wear to school today. She had great taste in clothes and fashion and could decorate a house perfectly. Her daily selection was one of the pleasures of his morning. He couldn’t hear the boys so he assumed they were still sleeping. Cool, he thought, he might have a chance to get through the paper and that first cup of coffee before they woke up. Of course, this small community newspaper was a hell of a lot thinner than the daily paper from his previous home.

Paul and his family had moved from Connecticut about a year ago. After thirty years in corporate America, he had had enough. He chucked it all and moved to this paradise. All he had to do every day to remind himself that he had made the right decision was to look out the bedroom window at the beach and surf about a hundred yards from where he stood. Opening the windows he filled his nostrils with the salty breeze and immerse his ears in the soft but powerful kiss of the gentle waves falling upon the shore.

It had not been an easy move, although it wasn’t too bad either. He had relocated three times before and it all was just a matter of coordination and timing. It couldn’t be rushed and it always seemed to take longer than it should. Sometimes little mistakes or obstacles could really cause a royal pain in the ass. Sometimes though, little mistakes or obstacles could solve themselves. He was a strong believer that sometimes you just get lucky. They had more than enough to fill a new house and, like it was in Connecticut, they found they actually needed a bigger house. The cost of real estate here was no better than it was in Connecticut. So his goal of owning a great big house still had to wait for that ever just-out-of-reach someday. This was a goal he had been chasing his whole life and never deterred in his pursuit, regardless of the challenges. The corporate life had seemed like an excellent way to get there. But he tired of the heavy cost both personally and for his family and his mind strayed from it more and more till he finally arrived at that crossroad of either keeping up the endless struggle in the legions of corporate soldiers or following his heart.

Paul walked down the hall to Joe’s room and opened the door. He didn’t worry about being too noisy since he was there to wake him anyway. Joe, as usual, was wrapped up in his lightweight blanket and out cold. He shook Joe’s leg a bit and called his name. Joe slowly woke and gave an annoyed grumble. Five more minutes, Joe said with a slight shake of his head, his eyes already closed again.

He went back to the hall and opened Michael’s door. Michael was sprawled across his super twin bed. Michael was a one man wrecking crew when he slept. He had slept with them for over a year before he would try his own bed, but would often crawl into their bed around mid-morning fairly often still, but he caused such havoc and disturbance to their sleep that they had to get the habit broken and refocused. He moved around all night, in every conceivable direction, and he flung his arms and legs as he moved, often striking one of them in the face. Nice wake-up!

Michael also slept very soundly which is a god-sent present. He bent over and shook Michael’s shoulder gently. Michael too made a grunting sound and rolled right back over. He had found that about the only way to get Michael up was to pick him up and get him on his feet. If you held him he just went back to sleep on your shoulder. As he picked Michael up, he noticed how cool his hair was looking. Michael was blonde as could be and Paul knew it would stay that way in this sunny place. It was a little long for Jill’s taste but the coolest in Paul’s eyes. It gave him a real surfer looking dude appearance. A very smart and inquisitive dude, Paul thought. Setting Michael down he walked out toward the kitchen and hearing the small feet following him, he turned to watch because he loved the way Michael never walked, but rather ran everywhere. Starting from a standing position he would suddenly just take off like a bullet from a gun. Sometimes he misjudged his stopping and got up close and personal with a wall or sofa. Paul wondered what that would all mean for Michael when he got older.

Paul checked the clock as he reached for the remote on the open counter between the kitchen and the family room. He liked having the two rooms distinct but not separated. Both rooms were the most used rooms during the family’s waking hours. He saw on the microwave digital clock that it was 7:43. Cool, he thought, still about forty minutes to go before he had to have the kids in the car on the way to school. He flipped on the TV and sound system and entered 67 for his favorite news channel. The 65-inch wide screen exploded with color and a half a second later, sound filled the room. He loved this set-up. It had taken a while to get this quality and richness in an audio-video system and already he couldn’t wait for the bigger, slimmer TV’s to become more affordable. A nice seventy-inch flat screen would be perfect.

He poured his first cup of coffee and downed it fast. Not a leisurely sip, rather like a ‘down the hatch’ shot. The hot elixir burned all down his throat and into his stomach, but he was used to it and the pain was worth the effect of the caffeine. The second cup was sipped slower, savoring the taste. Jill always left the coffee made and usually only drank about half a cup. That left plenty for his needs and he typically finished the pot in three huge cupfuls.

He opened the pantry and took out first the Fruit Loops, then the Corn Pops. It was funny how each of his boys had very different choices in cereal. They changed every once in a while, but when they were hooked on a particular cereal, nothing else was acceptable. He poured cereal in two bowls, set them on the kitchen table, poured milk over them and stuck a spoon in each. Cool, breakfast is served! He had this task down to almost a single, non-stop motion.

Michael had gone back to his room, no doubt to play with his beloved cars and trucks. He was pleasantly surprised when he walked into Michael’s room and saw him stripped down to his diaper and trying to put his fresh shirt on. He helped Michael get dressed for school and then watched him grab his silver Jeep radio-controlled car and turn it on. Michael was so smart and able to figure out how things worked very quickly.

He went back to the kitchen leaving Michael to zoom his car around his room. He checked the weather report on the TV and saw it was all clear. He noticed the weather in the Northeast was cold and snowy. He sure didn’t miss that.

Michael, Joe, breakfast is on the table, he called down the hall. He knew it would take at least two more calls to get them to the table. No problem, all part of the routine.

He still laughed to himself sometimes as he considered his current situation. Once a long work week, monster commute, heavy travel, stressful job, a job with a great salary and benefits, but an environment that would slowly eat you alive, with no remorse, no consideration, not even a thank you ma’am. Now he was a homemaker, Mister Mom, a househusband, whatever you wanted to call it. Paul called it nirvana. Of course, he did have things going on outside of the house. He and Jill had bought a bar and restaurant along the beach with the generous help of the local financial institution. The bar had a strong business and was doing just fine. Since the bar didn’t open till one pm, he had time to fulfill his household duties. He felt great about his life and only wished he had been so bold years ago.

He called down the hall again and turned to catch the news ticker on the screen. He knew he had to catch what he could in a hurry because once the boys came to breakfast, the channel would be turned to cartoons. He had given up fighting it. It just wasn’t worth the energy. Joe liked the older kids’ stuff, though he was still a fan of Sponge Bob, Square Pants and Dexter’s Lab. Michael liked those too, having already passed through the Wiggles and Bob the Builder phase.

Same old stuff on the international front; rogue nations, asshole evildoer regimes, revolutions, strikes, etc. It seemed to him that mankind would never learn till they did themselves in totally and the next breed of mankind emerged. It was a spiral that could easily spin out of control at any time. He viewed it all as yet another positive reason to have moved here, away from big cities, high populations, symbolic targets. In other words, away from a high danger risk to a low danger risk. He had never been a big risk taker; in fact, he quite surprised himself at the risk he had taken a year ago in coming down here. It had been scary, but he found it was time to do or die. So he did.

The sports news was short. He really only paid attention to the LA Lakers and the Oakland Raiders anyway. All other teams only existed for his two beloved teams to beat up on. Of course, they didn’t always come out on the winning side, but he was a die hard, passionate, long-time fan anyway.

Stocks hadn’t opened yet so there was nothing new on that. He kept an eye on the general economy as it impacted the flow of tourists to the Keys. Traffic in the Keys meant traffic in the bar. He had a nice following from the locals to fall back on but the tourist trade was where the big money was.

The bar had been established for some time under the name of The Cannery. It had just needed the right management to make it sing. His thirty years in corporate management, along with his innate marketing sense had all come to his aid in the venture. He had plans for expansion and off shoots like a retail store selling local items, helping the local economy and providing him additional profit. He also had dreams of a bookstore with a WiFi Hot Spot café, fancy coffee bar and an exotic cocktail bar for the later hours. He had lots of ideas for the bookshop and he fully intended to carry through on the dream once he had amassed the needed capital.

He turned to yell at the boys again, but stopped when he heard the rapid footsteps of Michael. He looked and saw Joe not far behind him. He turned to pick up Michael and put him on the chair. Joe sat himself down with a thump. Preteen came earlier all the time and Joe was