Second Spring

By Martha Murray Moore

A SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE AND LOVE!  When a truck smashes into an old frail Jenny killing her instantly, she is shocked to wake in the embrace of a young man making love to her and calling her "Merrily!"  In an amazing twist she finds herself young and vigorous again but with a new face and life.  How can this be and what horrible secret from Merrily's past is stalking her -- threatening everything in her new life? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Double H Publications
• Release date: Jun 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781495439612

Book preview

Second Spring

Martha Murray Moore

Published by Double H Publications, 2014.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

SECOND SPRING

First edition. June 24, 2014.

Copyright © 2014 Martha Murray Moore.

ISBN: 978-1495439612

Written by Martha Murray Moore.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Second Spring

CHAPTER ONE

Jenny Arlen hugged her sack of groceries close, shifting the uncomfortable weight from one hip to the other as she waited for the traffic light to change. Her eyes and throat burned from the exhaust fumes. The winter wind cut through the city streets, fluttering her thin coat and pulling nearly white tendrils of hair from beneath her knit hat.  Another time, another season, she would not have given the four-block walk a second thought – and carried twice the bags with little effort.  Now, though, as the years made themselves felt, a simple trip to the store was a major expedition, a fact she acknowledged with a grimace at the red neon pedestrian light.  The dull throb between her shoulder blades echoed the beat of her heart.  Would the light never change?

Finally the walk light clicked on.  The throng of people around her surged forward, sweeping her along with them. As she picked her way carefully around the slippery patches and mounds of dirty snow, she heard piercing shrieks all around her.  Her glance jerked upward.  Too late, much too late . . .

The grille of a huge truck loomed right on top of her. She was caught up in explosions of blinding light, tremendous pressures, and then nothing.

* * *

Eyes closed, Jenny lay quietly but her thoughts raced and tumbled.  She wasn’t cold any more.  The leaden clutch of despondency slipped from her.  Strange, she could smell Mennen After Shave. It reminded her of her father. It had been years. . .

She became aware of the weight of a large, warm body on hers.  Shivers of sensation rippled through her.  Her wrists were being held over her head in a strong hand.  Her eyes flew open. Her knees were drawn up on either side of his hard body.  Panic surged as she realized that he was inside her, sliding deeper.  She stared at the face just inches above hers.

Her struggles were futile. In desperation she strained to pull her hands from the iron grasp.  His big body held her immobile. Her alarm faded as a delicious feeling of languor began to overwhelm her. New sensations pushed away her fear.

She gasped and shut her eyes, shocked to find herself completely lost in a spiraling pleasure that engulfed her whole body.

As the crescendo of delight began to subside, thoughts drifted to the surface of her mind.  I’ve died, and this must be heaven.  I must have been very good to have such a handsome man making love to me like this.

It had been a long time since she had known a man’s embrace and felt him filling her.  She shivered with delight, pushing aside the feeling that she should be afraid.  It had never before felt quite this wonderful.  Well, dying wasn’t so bad, if this was to be her reward!

Smiling, she opened her eyes and looked at the face so close to her own, enchanted with his thick dark hair and startlingly blue eyes.  The angled planes of his face were highlighted in the golden gleam of a setting sun flooding the room.  His grip on her wrists had loosened a bit and she pulled her hands free and brought them to his face, stroking the strong high cheekbones.

Who are you? she murmured with a tender smile, gazing into those blue eyes.

He froze and his jaw tightened under her stroking palms.  His soft smile tensed into a hard line of compressed lips.  She could feel his whole body stiffen.

For God’s sake, Merrily!  What in the hell do you mean ‘Who am I?’

Who’s Merrily? Jenny whispered, a terrifying emptiness flooding her body.

With a groan, he sank down onto her, his ardor dissipating like mist.  She felt him withdrawing from inside her body and stifled a small, Oh. She stared at his face, aware of a sense of loss.

Jenny lay there, her hands still cupping his face. Mixed with the Mennen were sweat and the almost-forgotten scent of male musk.  She didn’t know this splendid young man, but she knew by the sudden tension of his body that he was furious.  He raised his head, his drawn-down brows framing his icy eyes.  She let her hands drop.  Her tumbling thoughts sent unease flaring up through her.  If this was heaven, why was he so angry?  If she wasn’t dead, then where was she?  How did she get here?  Why would this young man want to make love to her?  If she wasn’t dead, then she should be afraid.  Who was Merrily?

Anger hardened his handsome face.  Rolling off her, he sat on the edge of the bed, the rigidity of his back muscles sending a growing fear through her.  As she raised herself on one elbow, he spun around and glared.  She saw such anguish in his eyes. She could almost feel his pain.

He pushed the words out through tensed jaws.  All right, Merrily.  What the hell is this?  What do you mean ‘Who are you?’ and ‘Who’s Merrily?’  If this was the Army, I’d say you were bucking for a Section Eight discharge! That’s the kind they give you for being nuts!  His voice had grown louder as he spoke and he spat the last out nearly shouting.

All the delicious sensations he had been stirring in her just moments before fled; she was frozen with dread and fear.

Jenny cringed back from his intensity, all sympathy for his obvious anguish gone.  His rage-filled face loomed as he slammed his hands down on either side of her.  His hot breath swept over her face.  Blue eyes had turned to chilling ice and his mouth was a tight, pinched line.

Jenny grabbed at the trailing sheet, clutching it like a shield. I didn’t mean to upset you, she moaned.  I just don’t know where I am or why I’m here.

He sat back and stared at her, her fright surprising him.  Merrily? 

Jenny broke in—anger beginning to overcome her terror.  Stop calling me Merrily! she snapped.  My name is Jenny.  I don’t know you.  My name is not Merrily! I don’t even know anyone named Merrily.  She took a shaky breath.

His hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a hard shake. Stop this!  You know damned good and well who you are.  You’re my wife, Merrily MacDaniel – what in the hell is the matter with you?

She struggled desperately to pull free and finally got one hand loose.  The red print slowly blossomed on his cheek as she slapped him with a strength born of terror and frustration.  Shock contorted his face and he flung her from him. 

Defeat in every word, he grated out, "Merrily, I’ve tried to be a kind and understanding husband these last three months, but I think you’ve finally won the war.

If you hate being with me so much that you’re going to pretend to be crazy, then all right.  I won’t touch you again. I give up!

The last bits of hope shattered and turned to dust in his heart.  He had been so sure that time, patience, and tenderness would change Merrily’s coldness and bring back the warmth and love he hoped were buried deep within her.  As he slid deeper into her body, he had felt her returning his passion.  Then she had insisted that she wasn’t Merrily.  He stood and strode heavily across the bedroom. 

Jenny stared at his retreating broad shoulders and narrow hips.  He seemed to believe what he was saying and appeared genuinely distraught..  How could he possibly think she was someone named Merrily?  They were married?  He couldn’t be more than thirty.  How could he be married to her? She was old!

Wait, uh, uh . . . I don’t even know your name.  Please wait!  We need to talk, but he was gone and she was talking to an empty room.

Grabbing a robe lying in a heap by the bed, she hurried after him, pulling the silky folds hastily around herself.  She was determined that he understand that something very strange was happening.  She didn’t know how she had suddenly been spirited out of cold Philadelphia and into his bed.  How could he think she was his wife? 

Didn’t he have eyes?  Surely his wife wasn’t some old woman?  How could he think she was his Merrily?  She clenched her hands into the soft silk sash as she yanked it into a knot, aware of the pain flooding through her that she was the cause of this man’s torment.  She was so wrapped up thinking of his suffering that she didn’t notice that she was walking lightly and easily...

As she hurried after him, her thoughts in turmoil, she glanced briefly around the room.  Her eyes slid past the big dresser mirror.  She stopped short with a gasp as the image seared into her mind.

She backed up and stared. The face was not her own!  She raised her hand to her hair and the figure in the mirror did the same.  Jenny gawked at the reflection of an absolutely beautiful young woman with long curling dark hair falling down her back to her narrow waist.  Wide-set hazel eyes fringed with incredibly long dark lashes stared back at her. 

Jenny put both hands to her cheeks as her mind registered what her eyes were seeing.  How could this be?  She touched the smooth face and the room began to spin and buzz. Her tormented cry faded as the darkness swarmed over her.

In the next room, the anguished wail sliced into the miserable young man like a blade and he sprinted towards the connecting doorway, fear churning in his gut.  She lay collapsed into a small heap.  He dropped to his knees beside her and gathered her in his arms,  pressing his lips to her forehead. He held her limp form to his chest, arms trembling.

Merrily, darling! God, what happened?  I’m so sorry!  Cradling her tightly, he rose and moved to the bed.  He laid her down gently and sat on the edge beside her. He began rubbing her hands, his mind whirling with anxiety.

What’s wrong, Merrily?  What happened?  Speak to me, darling, it’s Jonathan.

Her eyes slowly opened. As his face came into focus, she gasped, remembering what she had seen in the mirror.  Pushing him away, she moved to the side of the bed and unsteadily got to her feet.  She swayed, but determinedly started to move towards the dresser.

He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him.  Her body was trembling and her skin felt cold, in spite of the warm breeze wafting through the room.

What are you doing? he asked, puzzled.

The mirror!  Please! she managed to squeak as she pulled him toward the dresser.

Standing there with his arm steadying her, she gazed at their reflections. The images were of the same beautiful young woman and the handsome man who had been making love to her.  Her head barely came to the chin of the man beside her.  His tousled dark hair hung over his forehead.  Those clear blue eyes stared back piercingly.  His broad shoulders and hard chest pressed against her back and she shivered at the strength of his muscled thigh against the back of hers.  She turned her head and looked up at him, fright clutching her heart.

I don’t know what’s happening, but that’s not me in the mirror.  My name is Jenny Arlen. I live in Pennsylvania and I’m not young and beautiful!  I’m not young at all! she gasped out with shuddering apprehension.

As her slim young form shook with  terrified sobs, he stared at the two of them in the mirror and spun her around.  What was the matter with her?  His fingers bit into her shoulders, he growled angrily, Stop this, Merrily!  You’re my wife and I will not allow you to continue this charade.  I shouldn’t have tried to force you to make love to me!  I won’t do that again.

She stared unseeing up into his twisted face, too frightened by what was happening to listen.  Her mind was a swirling tumble of terror.

When is this?  Where are we? she wailed.  The open French doors brought in warm breezes, the perfume of many flowers, and birdsongs.  This can’t be Pennsylvania.  It isn’t even winter out there!

His glowering eyes scanned her stricken face, his anger growing.  He couldn’t believe that she was going to continue this farce.

What are you talking about, Merrily?  Of course this isn’t Pennsylvania. You’ve lived here in Southern California all your life. And you know damned good and well it’s December!

Jenny shook her head, closing her eyes to block out his contorted face.  She was cold, confusion filled her.  How could the mirror reflect someone she had never seen before? 

You have to believe me, she whispered, the tears sliding down her cheeks.  I’m Jenny Arlen and I live in Philadelphia in a small apartment over a store.  Since my little dog died last year, I’ve been all alone.

She was a hollow shell, her whole world gone in the blink of an eye.  These were strangers in the mirror.

As he looked at the reflections, Jonathan’s face went stiff and the line of his jaw tightened.  This woman with whom he had been making love said she was not his Merrily.  After her initial screaming resistance, shrieking that she wished she were dead, she had been responding as he had always dreamed she would, warmly and passionately, until she asked his name.  Then she was trying to tell him that she wasn’t Merrily, that she was someone named Jenny.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, his face a granite mask as he spun away from her.  He turned and moved slowly and dejectedly to the connecting door, his steps  dispirited and mechanical.  He spoke harshly over his shoulder, Be Jenny. Be Merrily.  Be anybody you choose.  Just be damned sure you’re ready to leave for the country club by 7:30.

The door slammed shut behind his stiff back. 

Jenny let her eyes travel back to the reflection.  She stroked her hands down over her breasts and to her slim waist. How could she look so young and beautiful in the mirror when she knew she was Jenny Arlen?  Guilt gripped her relentlessly.  If she was here, in this body, where was his wife Merrily? Had she become Jenny Arlen?  Did she die when the truck hit her?  Was she lying somewhere in Jenny’s body in pain and agony?  Jenny’s breath caught raggedly and she struggled to make sense of it all.  If she was here, young and beautiful, then was poor Merrily suddenly old and badly injured?  Horror clutched at her.

Why was she, Jenny, suddenly young again?  She had never done anything even remotely heroic or wonderful in her life. What terrible thing had Merrily done to lose her youth and beauty like this? Jenny’s mind raced.

She had tried to be a good, dutiful wife, making her husband’s life as comfortable as she could, considering their limited circumstances.  He’d been a quiet, mostly uncomplaining big man who had treated her with detached affection, once the excitement of youth had faded.

Life had been quiet, ordinary, and her three children had grown up without major problems and were now staid, middle-aged, middle-class parents with children and lives of their own.  After her husband died, Jenny’s life had been lonely, colorless, and perched on the edge of poverty.  She had her little apartment over a small neighborhood store.  She had never really gone hungry, but there had been few bright spots except for  the little white dog who had loved her.  It had become a greyer, lonelier existence when he died.

Nothing in her whole ordinary life merited her getting this boon of a second chance at life – obviously a life of beauty, wealth, and love.

Jenny shuddered with the wrenching fear that all this would disappear as quickly as it had happened and she would find herself under the truck, or worse.  Her breath caught as she thought of coffin walls closing in and she fought for air. 

Jenny turned towards the doorway where Jonathan had disappeared and held out her hand, wanting to draw him back, but he had slammed the door.  Tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks.  It didn’t seem possible, and yet her fear was beginning to mix with swirls of awareness towards this angry man, another woman’s husband.  How could he stir up this sense of connection in her in such a short time?  When she had opened her eyes and looked at his handsome face above her, she had felt the tendrils.  He would never feel anything like that towards her, though.  Any attraction he might have was because she was wearing the face of his dead wife.  If Merrily was dead.  The not-knowing was an agony of its own.

Jenny’s whole lifetime had disappeared and she was someone else.  If Jonathan ever believed that she was Jenny Arlen, that his Merrily was gone, he would hate her for inhabiting Merrily’s body. Jenny stood there wracked with grief and guilt, her arms clasped around herself.  It was a monstrous joke.  The face in the mirror mocked her. 

Where was the real Merrily?  Why had this happened to her?  She had tried to be a good person.  Was this a punishment or a reward?  And what had happened to Merrily? 

CHAPTER TWO

The door opened. Jonathan stood there.

I don‘t know what you’re trying to pull, Merrily, but you damned well better stop.

Jonathan spoke, anger chilling his voice. Why was she still looking wistful?

He stared at her, hurt warring with anger in his eyes.  Ever since our wedding, I’ve waited three long months for you to say, ‘Jonathan, take me in your arms and love me.’  Today I got tired of waiting.  Guilt reddened his face as he remembered how forceful he had been.

Jenny closed her eyes.  Another tear squeezed out and slid down her cheek. How could she ever make him believe that she wasn’t Merrily? It would cause him such grief and pain.  Another tear crossed her cheek.  Without thinking Jonathan moved to her side and Jenny felt his fingers brushing the drops away.

His hesitant words cut into her heart.  I’m sorry, Merrily.  Even though I know now that you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have married you if I’d known that you never intended to really be my wife. I guess all you ever wanted was to be Mrs. MacDaniel so you could belong to the country club set and run around with all your married friends.

Jenny’s breath caught in a sob. Sorrow for this anguished man filled her heart.  She saw such grief in his face that she longed to put her arms around him, in spite of her earlier fear. 

She sighed, I know what it’s like to love someone and still be alone.  I thought I loved my husband all those years we were married, but he never had much time for me, not even after the children grew up and left home.  I was almost as lonely then as I was after he died.  Jenny reached out and took Jonathan’s hand in hers. 

She flinched as he angrily snatched it back. The seething rage that consumed him flashed from his tightly squinted eyes and pinched mouth. Ignoring his furious mien, Jenny pushed on.  What are we going to do?  Where is Merrily?  What was the last thing she said before I asked you who you were?

Startled, his rage momentarily blunted, Jonathan looked at her with growing unease.  Something was going on that he didn’t understand.  She sounded so sincere.  He shook his head, unable to believe that Merrily could have fabricated such a complicated story and then stuck with it.  It was not Merrily’s way.  He had been expecting her to toss her head and throw it all back in his face with a laugh and some sneering comment about how she had him going for a minute. It was not like Merrily to hang onto her game.  He decided to humor her.

One minute I’m making love to you and the next minute you’re asking who I am.

He impaled Jenny with his glittering cold eyes.

Did Merrily say anything else before I asked you who you were? 

My dear wife, do you think it made me happy when you screamed in my face that you wished you were dead?

She gasped, not wanting to believe what she was suddenly thinking. Oh, my dear!  Do you suppose she was the one who died when the truck hit me?  If I‘m here, in her body, was she in mine when I died?

Paralyzing guilt overcame Jenny and her knees buckled. Jonathan roughly grabbed her up and sat her firmly on one of the chairs before the fireplace.  She fearfully watched him pace back and forth, his face reflecting his anger at what he still thought of as Merrily’s wild tale. She could see nibbling uncertainty beginning to creep over him, the emotions flitting across his face. She stared at his naked body, watching the muscles of his back and thighs ripple and flex as he strode past her. 

I can’t believe you think I would actually consider that you are someone else and not Merrily. You really did have me going there, he said angrily, his logical mind dismissing the possibilities. Shaking his head, he stopped. He glared at her perched there in the flowered wing chair, her eyes big and frightened. 

Another tear threatened in her lashes and she dashed it away. She could see his growing determination. Jenny stood up, yanking the belt tight on the silk robe. She had to make him understand.  If I can prove to you that Jenny Arlen died today in Philadelphia, this afternoon, just as you were making love to Merrily, would that make you at least listen to what I’m saying?

Jonathan stopped abruptly.  All right.  I’ll call your bluff.  Let’s call Philadelphia. He picked up the phone on the nearby table. He knew this would shoot down her fantasy.  There was no way that someone named Jenny Arlen had died today, in Philadelphia no less, just when he was making love for the first time to his wife Merrily.

He dialed Information for the number of the Philadelphia hospital Jenny told him would be the most likely to receive a downtown accident victim. He pushed aside his surprise that she would know such a thing.  Information soon had him connected to the Admitting Desk. He was aware of her watching him as he spoke to the hospital, her face pale, her hands nervously twisting the sash.  Jonathan turned back to Jenny after a short low-voiced conversation with a clerk at the hospital.

His color blanched. Someone named Jenny Arlen did die this afternoon.  She was hit by a truck downtown, and died a little while ago.

Jenny watched as he fumbled the telephone back onto its base. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair.  His trembling fingers combed through his thick dark hair.

My God, what’s happening?  How could you possibly have known that?

Before Jenny could move, he was up again, pacing back and forth, emotions rolling across his face as he considered and discarded the possibilities. 

It was sheer coincidence, that’s all.  That’s all it could be! He was shaken to the core, but still unable to really believe it.

Oh, Jonathan, it must have been Merrily who died.  Why else would I be here? Compassion flooded through Jenny and, pushing aside her earlier fear of this big man, she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop and turn his dazed face down to her.  Her arms slid around him.

He held her close.  In his agonized bewilderment, her warm arms felt right. His body suddenly began to come alive where it touched her slender heat.  The hell with Philadelphia, this is my wife in my arms and she is warm and willing, Jonathan’s thoughts swirled.  He would never believe this charade she was trying to pull off.  He finally had her in his arms and she was holding him close. He felt her trembling. That was enough. 

Desire began to flare in her core as his arousal hardened against her.  Her fear faded.

Oh, Jonathan!  She pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes widening as the stirrings heated her body, awakening to him, her breasts swelling and her tight nipples brushing against his shaggy chest through the thin silk of her robe.  She could feel the heat building and pressed closer to him.  There was an almost electrical pulse everywhere they touched. His mouth came down on hers and she responded hungrily to his embrace and passion.  She had missed a man’s touch.  When he swung her up in his arms and started for the bed, she felt a momentary pang of remorse that his passion was not for her, Jenny, but for his wife Merrily.

Jenny stifled her guilt.  If Merrily didn’t want this lovely man, then she did and when he pulled her robe off and tossed it aside, she opened her arms to him.  She hadn’t known this wanting in many years.

Locked in his fiery embrace, Jenny came alive with sensations she had never before felt till earlier this same afternoon.  Jonathan’s hands stroked her breasts and the longings built in her until the need was almost unbearable.  Her husband had coupled with her regularly for many years, but he had never evoked the responses she felt now.  He had been gentle, quick, and had promptly rolled over and gone to sleep as soon as his own climax was reached, leaving Jenny to lie there in the dark yearning for something that she couldn’t identify.

But now, as she shuddered in the grip of an ecstasy she had never known existed, she felt Jonathan caught up in the same explosion.  As he raised his sweaty body up above her, braced on his arms, she felt the same awe that showed in his face.  He kissed her tenderly and rolled to his side, taking her with him.  Lying in his arms, she was reluctant to