Passing Lane

By Sue Binder

Passing like "ships in the night," we never realize just how much we influence other people. In a series of 14 short stories, the book emphasizes the significance of our encounters with others. Sometimes the influence is positive, with far-reaching effects. Sometimes the contact may be destructive, even evil. Yet lives are changed, altered in some fashion. The serial killer who lures his victims through old-fashioned snail mail, the doctor who must choose between his career and marriage, the girl who draws a paper piano and becomes a concert pianist--these and other characters indicate just how a smile, a touch, or a slap can change the course of a life. The reader will meet a woman who abandons her twin sons in order to save their lives, an old man running an ancient grocery sons,and, a woman whose car wreck brings romance. The topics range from tragedy, romance, self-discover, rejection, mental illness, abuse and death. However, the overall theme remains that not only do we influence other people as we move through life, they can profoundly influence us as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Binder
• Release date: Mar 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311126689

Sue Binder

I have written most of my life. While still a pre-schooler, I once got in trouble for scribbling in the back of a book. I continued writing throughout school, working on high school and college newspapers, and eventually getting a BA in journalism and creative writing. I have worked as a newspaper writer and editor, as well as a variety of other jobs, such as a substitute teacher, college instructor, and even an Avon saleslady. Currently I hold two master degrees and am a Licensed Professional Counseler and Licensed Addictions Counselor, and have worked in a private prison. Currently I work for a community health clinic as a Behavioral Health Therapist. I love to read, favorites being Tony Hillerman, Henning Mankill and Patrick Taylor, as well as Steve Barry. I love music, current favorites being Celtic Thunder and Josh Groban. My pride and joy are my four children and five grandchildren. I reside in Southeast Colorado, where I continue to write. My current burning desire is a trip to Ireland. Special thank you to my sister, Sandy, for encouraging me to follow her path to Smashwords.

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Passing Lane

By

Sue Binder

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Carolyn S. Binder

Cover image by Rihardzz provided through Shutterstock.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express permission of the author.

This E-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This E-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

About the Author

Sue Binder is a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) and a Licensed Addictions Counselor (LAC). A former newspaper reporter and editor, she is the author of numerous short stories; poetry, romance novels, and light-hearted satire. She is also an award-wining poet with publications in several anthologies. Her goal is to retire, travel to Ireland, sit back and enjoy her hobbies of crocheting, knitting, and reading.

However, her pride and joy are her four children and five grandchildren and dog, Tuffy.

Also by Sue Binder

Available through most ebook retailers:

Meltdown

Special Effects

Mr. Living History

Summer Harvest

I’ll Never Make Parole

Construction Zone

Published by American Correctional Association, available at most ebook retailers:

Hands Down, A Domestic Violence Treatment Workbook

Hands Down: An Instructor’s Manual for Domestic Violence Treatment

Dedication

To Gale and Carl

Thank you so much for all the support and friendship as we share and love our children together.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Passing Lane

Henry’s Store

But It Isn’t Me

The Treasure

The Noise

Dr. Tim

The Afghan

The Check

Letters

The Escape

The Road Home

The Paper Piano

The Last List

Icy Lane

Selection from Detour

PASSING LANE

For God’s sake, Gary, slow down, Brenda yelled. You’re gonna kill us both!

But Gary wasn't listening. His music blasted from the CD player, hard rock, something old, something that felt violent, gritty, and angry. Brenda didn’t even try to decipher the words. How could she focus with the speedometer steadily climbing, while she gripped the arm rest, her eyes riveted on the highway. She could only see the tip of the speedometer from the passenger side of the Mustang, and she cringed, as the needle read 80. Gary, stop, please! They were coming up on traffic, a white van just ahead of them.

She resisted an urge to grab the wheel, but she knew, with his foot on the accelerator, that would create greater danger.

Bitch, bitch, that's all you ever do! He exploded at her, as he veered the vehicle further out into the oncoming lane.

No! she yelled. But her voice was stifled, as he smacked her across the face. Brenda sank back into the seat. Not a praying person, still, she did for a moment. They were going to die, if he didn't calm down. She let out a cry, followed by a sigh, as Gary managed to maneuver around the white van, barely making it back into their lane. The van driver honked loudly several times, issuing a stern warning. Gary had cut back in front of him far too close, but at his speed, she knew they’d soon lose the van .

She knew what caused this. Drugs, the meth he continued to take, even though she'd threatened to leave him. When he wasn't on drugs, Gary was a nice guy. Sure, she told herself, a nice guy who loves to smack me around and is going to get us both killed. Where was a patrolman when you needed one? She longed for a cell phone, but his was entrenched firmly in his pocket and hers, well, she hadn't had one, since he taken it and smashed it under the heel of his boot. That was her punishment for talking with Tammy, her only friend.

Once more the car ventured into the oncoming lane, and Gary yanked it back in the nick of time, barely missing a tankard transporting gasoline down the valley. They were somewhere between Descent and Awberry, out where the construction crew had recently completed widening of the highway, as well as a passing lane in two directions. Brenda knew one of those lanes was coming up soon. If Gary would just be patient…

Her thoughts swarmed back to an hour before. One hour only and then the world turned upside down. She was fixing supper, actually heating TV dinners when Gary walked in. It had been a difficult day. Her boss had accused her of taking cash money from the till. Of course, she denied it. He pointed out that no one else had access, stated he wouldn’t call the police, but she needed to replace the $500. She had stared, her mouth falling open. She would never have stolen from her boss. But Murray fired her on the spot, demanding she return the money by closing the next day.

She’d left devastated. She’d never steal, but she knew who would. If she wanted to keep this job, she knew she had to confront Gary. She’d already lost her car hop job, thanks to Gary. Besides, he was the only person who ever ventured behind the counter. He was the only one on her shift would have access to motel funds. She trembled just thinking about confronting him because she knew how Gary could be. A wrong word could bring a slap across the face, a fist to the jaw or a fling to the floor and kicks to the ribs. She had to be very careful.

She had tried. She began easy enough. I’ve got a big problem. Maybe you can help me. She paused. She just wasn’t sure how to continue. She couldn’t accuse Gary of taking the money. She knew what the consequences could be. Instead, she ventured on. Murray’s got the idea in his head that I stole $500 from the till. He says I have to replace it by closing time tomorrow or he’s going to call the cops.

Too late she realized that her timing was terrible. She saw the furious anger leap into his eyes, noted the flaring of his nostrils, the fist raised in the air. Suddenly, she knew that Gary was high. High on something, probably meth his favorite drug of choice.

God damn him. He thinks he can fire my woman! He’d better think twice. Get in the car; we’re going over there! I’ll give him a piece of my fist!

Why don’t I try to reason with him first. Let me talk with him in the morning.

No talking. Done talking. Get your ass in the car. He reached out and grabbed her by the nape of the neck and shoved her toward the door. The TV dinner she held hit the floor.

Now they were on the highway halfway back to Awberry, where she worked at Murray’s Motel, a cheap second-rate inn, mostly used by those who wanted a few hours alone with a willing partner so their spouse wouldn’t find out. Cut-rate, no reservations needs. And dealing primarily in cash. Her job consisted of checking in customers, but mostly she cleaned and did laundry.

She glanced at Gary. His eyes were ablaze, staring outward down the highway, as if it were an obstacle standing in the way of his vengeance. She cringed as the speedometer continued to rise. Eighty, eighty-five, ninety… They were in a sixty-five zone. Gary… she ventured.

Suddenly she noted a blue SUV looming in front of them, blocking the road. Of course, the SUV was probably doing the speed limit. But Gary held the accelerator to the floor board, seemingly unaware or unconcerned about other vehicles. He was determined that no one or anything stand in his way. He swerved out into the oncoming lane.

Gary, no! Brenda screamed at him, as she fought for the wheel. The passing lane!. It’s just ahead--the passing lane! Oh, my god, Gary…..!

A blurry haze shifted the world. A veil of fog and wind sifted through the blackness, the nothingness, filling her mind with thoughts and images that mixed and jumbled in a collage of nonsense. Nothing connected. Nothing jelled. It was as if she dwelled in a limbo, somewhere between existence and extinction. Brenda rode a wave of confusion, mostly unaware, but floating memories randomly elevated her toward reality, only to drop her once again into a senseless and chaotic universe.

Gary! Something she needed to tell him…warn him…a danger…No, the danger was to herself. Gary was the danger. He was chasing her, following her. He was right there just behind her, his hand reaching out to claim her, to pull her back into his clutches, to suffocate her with his strangle hold. With a violent burst of energy, she slipped from his gasp.

But, no, there he was. He was like her shadow, never leaving. At times he might not be visible, but the moment she thought it was safe, safe to venture out into the sunlight, there he was. Waiting, smiling that crooked smile of his, raising a flirtatious eyebrow, as if to say, It’s okay. I wouldn’t hurt you. But he lied. Oh, how he lied. And he was so good at it.

Her thoughts trailed backward, following the crooked smile and the first night she’d met him Girls’ night out, that’s what the Wrecking Crew called it. The Wrecking Crew, the gals from work. Usually she didn’t go with them, not out to the bar. She had better things to do. Like watch TV, read a good book, study for her nursing license. But this time, this one time, she agreed to go.

Why that night? She wondered. Why? Gary would say that it was fate. But it wasn’t fate. It was doom for me. One misstep. One night that would forever change my life. One stupid decision. Yet that night she’d hadn’t seen it that way. After all, it was just a couple beers, music, and good conversation. Halfway though the evening, just when she was ready to go home, she saw him.

He stood across the room, leaning casually on the bar, his slender frame turned slightly to the west, where he appeared to be observing the three women, laughing. She was tapping time to the music on the table with her fingers. He smiled that crooked smile, which displayed dazzling perfect teeth. Brenda couldn’t help notice the mat of dark chest hair above his t-shirt.

Five minutes later he asked her to dance.

A week and five dates later, he slept all night on her sofa. And the following night in her bed. Brenda knew she should not have let it happen. Every value in her head, every bit of sensibility said no, but he was so very persuasive.

I’ve never met anyone like you. I can’t believe I’m feeling this way already. I always figured I’d never find the right woman. And here you are. Just perfect. His talk went on and on like that. Not all at once, of course, but frequent, full of flattery. So convincing. Brenda tried to ignore her own feelings which came leaping to the surface, feelings that she knew were lust, passion, not necessarily love. Yet when he spoke so convincingly, she found it hard.

No one had ever treated her like this, like she was a queen…no one….

Damn it, Brenda! Can’t you ever follow the directions on the box? You are worthless! Her mother tossed the cake mix into the garbage and turned to the six-year-old, smacking her soundly across the face. Now, what are we supposed to have for dessert?

It was Easter dinner. Grandma Berlin was coming, along with a couple cousins. Brenda looked around the kitchen, with spilled cake batter and dirty dishes. She’d spent a couple hours washing dishes and polishing the cabinets and stove. Now everything was dirty, batter splattered everywhere--only because her mother had chosen to yank the pan out of her hand when she discovered that Brenda had switched the oil and water measurements in the recipe.

Brenda trembled as she began cleaning up the mess. So worthless. She recalled her mother’s words. Yes, that was her. She couldn’t deny it. It was a label that stuck like a Gorilla glue. Try as she might, it simply wouldn’t wash off..

Gary didn’t treat her like she was worthless--at least not at first. He called her, honey and babe and my love and cuddled her in the nook of his arm. He helped pick up the dishes after supper and emptied their trash. Yes, after two weeks he had completely moved in.

Her concern grew. He didn’t seem to have a regular job, but he told her not to worry. He had a sure fire business venture going. She wouldn’t have a problem paying the rent. Brenda was never able to figure out which business venture he was cultivating. First, there was the lawn care, then the auto detail, and finally the pet care station. He was always talking about his ventures, planning, drawing ideas on paper, calling his friends with promises to hire them. Lots of talk. Lots of dreams.

Nothing wrong with dreams. Nothing wrong with planning, working toward a goal. Lord knew she needed more of that herself. Still, while she worked five or six hours a day hopping cars and another two in the morning delivering local newspapers, Gary spent the day planning.

Brenda tried to be patient. After all, every successful business required careful planning. Every franchise had started somewhere. A month passed. Two. Brenda became more impatient. She was paying the rent, the utilities, even Gary’s cell phone bill. She told herself that something would come to fruition. He was talking with his friends, gathering investors. Surely, something.

Gary ordered supplies with her MasterCard. After all he needed dog clippers, dog diapers, and leashes. He scanned the internet, picked up some dog vests, cat pads, dog food, vitamins, and identity tags. This was his last big effort, and at first he seemed truly dedicated to it. The materials all arrived. They sat in the kitchen, mostly piled together in a heap up under the table.

She’d had a long day. Her feet ached. Her head throbbed. A swim meet had hit town and Fred’s Drive Inn had experience a swarm of customers—from 10 a.m. until she got off at 3 p.m. And, of course, she’d rolled papers at 5:30 a.m. and thrown her route before ever going to work, with a couple hours for housework in between. Gary was sprawled out on the sofa, his back to her. She opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of milk.

Brenda turned toward the living room, and, as Gary came into view, she suddenly realized that he had a needle in his arm. The glass crashed to the floor, shards flying everywhere. Gary looked up briefly, but continued his injection.

My God, Gary, what are you doing? She started toward him.

He didn’t answer at first. Then slowly withdrew the needle. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and a deep sign followed. For several moments all was quiet.

Gary, are you all right? What’s going on?

He stood then, towering over her. She felt a sudden chill, a fear gripped her. She wasn’t sure why, but a realization that she didn’t know anything about this man, swarmed through her like a surge of electricity.

You don’t question me! You understand? We got a good thing going here, so just shut your mouth.

Gary had been loud to her before, even a bit demanding, but this Gary was somehow different. She wondered how long this had been going on. Had he been doing drugs all the time, maybe even dealing them, and kept it from her? How could that be? But then she worked most of the day. He had opportunity then. With a start she realized that he left a lot at night, too. His Boy’s Night Out, he called it. He stayed out all hours.

It’s just that I didn’t know…she stammered. Brenda realized that she had to rein her fears in, had to control the seething inside her.

Don’t know. Damned stupid woman! How did you think I was paying my share here? Not with that fucking job of yours—that’s for sure. We’ll never have a thing if you don’t think big—bigger. That’s your trouble, Brenda. You don’t think. But how could you? What’d you do drop out at 3rd grade? He ranted on, railing on her.

Brenda turned from him, started to the kitchen. Clean up this damn mess! he yelled. At the same time he reached out, slapping her squarely across the face. She felt herself sliding downward, right into broken glass. Her hand landed sharply on a shard, slicing cleanly across her inside thumb.

Brenda moaned. Her throat felt dry, sore. Her whole body screamed with pain. She couldn’t breath; the air was stifling. A vision of her hand, bleeding, the flesh laid back, a searing pain. She viewed herself, slowing struggling to rise from the kitchen floor. Gary stood over her, his face contorted with anger, his hand raised, ready to knock her down again.

See what you made me do? he yelled. "Fucking woman, good for only one thing. Clean up