Catcall

By Gwendolyn Robertson

Judd Fenton is a husband, father, truck driver, and philanderer. He's done a few things he wouldn't want his family to find out about. Jim-Bo Fenton, his teen-aged son, has one goal for the summer: to get the girl he has a crush on. Fourteen-year-old Jessie, who's longing to find the mother who disappeared when she was a little girl, finds more than she bargained for up in the mountains beyond the farm. Winnie Fenton, Judd's wife, and stepmother to Jim-Bo and Jessie, makes discoveries of her own, ones that will change her life in more ways than one.

Farther up the mountain, widower Martin Dodd spends a lot of his evenings on his front porch, looking down on the Fenton home. He often hears the Fenton family fighting. He worries about Winnie Fenton and comes to realize he cares about her more than he should. He doesn't think Jim-Bo is a good influence on Skee, Martin's only child.

With secrets unraveling and discoveries disclosed, all of their lives will be changed, but not necessarily for the better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2009
• ISBN: 9780595623952

Gwendolyn Robertson

Gwendolyn Robertson enjoys hiking, art, photography, and travel. Her first novel, Catcall, was published in 2009. She divides her time between Annapolis, Maryland, and the Oregon coast and is currently working on her third novel.

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Copyright © 2009 by Gwendolyn Robertson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-52339-9 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-62395-2 (ebk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-51780-0 (cloth)

iUniverse rev. date: 11/17/2009

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

For Tanya and Stephanie

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the editors at iUniverse. You are the best.

And to my mentor, Ann Worthington Kerchner. You are such a dear friend for your help in the beginning.

Prologue

The old, black Chrysler lumbered along Highway 101, traveling ten miles below the speed limit.

It rode smoothly for a beast, as Clint Fenton called it with affection.

Viola, his wife of twenty-nine years, sat beside her husband, annoyed that he was going so slowly. For heaven’s sake, Clint, we aren’t going to get to the movie until the thing’s halfway over. Can’t you make this rattletrap go any faster?

Viola, you know I don’t drive fast on these curves. And if you hadn’t taken so long to fix your hair, we would have been there by now. But no, you had to primp till the cows came home, like you do every time we go out. You’re the reason we’re running late, not because of my driving. My driving’s just fine. Now be quiet so I can concentrate on these curves. You know I don’t like to talk while I’m driving.

Clint, you just take the cake. It’s always my fault we’re late. She pulled a hand-crocheted handkerchief from her purse and dabbed the corners of her eyes. It’s always my fault for every single thing that goes wrong.

Clint glanced over at his wife. Sometimes he just wanted to smack her, even after all these years. Her wrinkled face had lost its luster years ago. Now all she did was harp at him, harp, harp, harp, day in, day out. He was sick of it. Her lips were pursed tightly, like they always were when she got that aggravated look every time she got upset with him. Lord, how he hated that look.

If we miss the beginning of the movie, I swear I won’t forgive you, Clint. You know I don’t like to miss the beginning.

Just then, Clint felt the car pick up speed, even as he applied his feet to the clutch and brake.

Suddenly, the big old car veered to the left, staggering across the double yellow line.

What are you doing? Viola screeched. Watch where you’re driving, Clint! You’ll get us killed.

Shut up! Clint barked as he struggled to slow the car. The Chrysler had taken the last curve way too fast, and although he’d shifted the column and pumped the brake while tapping on the clutch, the car picked up speed as it rolled downhill.

Clint, this isn’t funny! Stop this car now! I don’t care if we’re late for the movie, just stop the car! Viola knew they shouldn’t be going that fast. Was her husband out of his mind, trying to scare her like that?

The car careened around the next curve. Clint fought to keep it in the northbound lane. He stomped down on the brake and the clutch as he downshifted. The car just wouldn’t slow down. He tried to turn the steering wheel to the right, hoping against hope to veer into the slope of the mountain to their right, but the car stayed to the left, propelled by momentum.

Barely missing a refrigerated seafood truck, the car shot across the road behind the truck and barreled through the metal barrier that was supposed to protect vehicles from going over the cliff.

Oh no, oh no, Clint cried as the Chrysler shot out over the cliff and took a nosedive toward the ocean. His heart was pounding so hard he went into cardiac arrest and died before the old Chrysler hit the bottom of the cliff.

Viola was less fortunate. It seemed as though this nightmare was happening in slow motion. She screamed all the way down, knowing what was coming, and she didn’t stop screaming until the car hit the rocks below.

Chapter 1

Winnie Fenton stood at the kitchen window and watched her stepchildren play in the yard. It was the last weekend before school was out for summer. The kids were running around excitedly, happy that their long-awaited summer was about to begin.

She watched as Jim-Bo, born James Robert Fenton and nicknamed Jim-Bo by his father Judd when James was but a week old, teased his younger sister, Jessie. His friend, Skee Dodd, who lived up the hill with his father, Martin, played with the dogs. Winnie smiled as the dogs bounded around the kids and barked shrilly, as if they knew that summer was beginning for them also. A foggy chill drifted over the mountains from the coast, but the boys were working up a sweat.

Winnie thought about the coming summer as she cleared the breakfast dishes from the table in the center of the kitchen and began washing them. A long tendril of brown hair escaped from her topknot and tickled her chin. She brushed it away with the back of her hand but it fell to her chin again. She left it—she didn’t feel like taking off the rubber gloves to push the hair away.

Random thoughts crossed her mind. There was so much to be done around the farm. The barn badly needed repair, the old truck needed fixing, and the plot at the end of the property still needed to be tilled for the vegetable garden. There didn’t seem to be enough time for everything. Judd hadn’t done any repairs around the farm since his folks had been killed in that tragic automobile crash, when, over ten years ago?

What else? Maybe get the tired old kitchen redone, but slim chance of that. Judd didn’t mind the outdated appliances. He didn’t do any cooking, and he certainly didn’t do any cleaning. He didn’t care what was causing the fridge to make a loud humming noise when it ran too long, or that two burners on the stove worked only when they wanted. Oh, yes, make tomato stakes. Clean the greenhouse, and get the seedlings going. The seedlings were the top priority. The Garden Market, on Highway 101 near Waldport, bought dozens of flats from her each spring. And what were the chances of Judd helping with all but the truck? Slim to none, she guessed. There was so much to be done. And she was already behind in tending to the greenhouse. The seedlings were going to be late.

Judd, her husband of nearly ten years, was seldom home. He was always off doing something important. Working, bowling, or hanging out with his buddies playing pool was a priority for him. Winnie and the kids thought of him as a part-time dad, and she was growing extremely resentful that Judd wasn’t home much to help out. He was a part-time husband, too. Lovemaking was virtually nonexistent these days. Excuses peppered his sentences. I’m too tired. We just did it last week. Two months ago had been more like it, and he’d been preoccupied then. And her favorite: You’re just too demanding!

The thought crossed her mind that Judd was having an affair. He was a truck driver for a trucking company in Portland. He was away more than he was at home. Heaven knew he had the time.

He was still handsome. Heck, he was only thirty-eight. He was slim, with broad shoulders, a slim waist, and a cute butt. Sunlight enhanced the gold flecks in his light brown eyes. His mouth curled up in a cute smile, except when he wasn’t happy. His dark hair curled over his forehead and tumbled into his eyes. He was a real charmer. She’d seen the way women stared at him when they were out together. He was truly oblivious to their staring, or so it seemed. Winnie knew not to bring it up—he would have said she was being ridiculous. She wasn’t a jealous woman by nature. But it bothered her just the same.

His being gone a lot for the job was one thing; an affair was a different matter. He showed all the signs. And she was too young to go the rest of her life without making love to her husband. Something was going to have to change.

When they’d first met, ten years ago, Judd had courted her with a vengeance. She lived in Newport, and worked in a little gift shop and art gallery. She sold some of her art and crafts there on consignment, and made some innovative planters that incorporated driftwood and seashells. She’d made a decent living and was independent.

Judd had come into the store one day. The salesgirls had noticed him right away. They fell all over him asking if he needed any help, but he ignored them. When he saw Winnie he struck up a conversation and asked her out.

She could never figure out why he’d singled her out. She felt she was plain-looking. Two of the other girls in the gallery were cuter and dressed classier than she did. And it wasn’t that she was shy, but Judd seemed like the type who went for a more outgoing, vivacious girl. Yet she had accepted.

They went for seafood, at a no-frills little restaurant around the corner from the gallery. She had a nice time. He asked for her number and said he would give her a call. One week later he called and they went out regularly after that, when he was home from his long-haul driving.

The girls teased her and made little remarks like they were jealous, but she didn’t care.

They dated for a few months and things went well. She met his kids, who stayed with Skee and his folks while Judd was on the road. The kids seemed well-adjusted. Judd said their mother had taken off when they were very small. She’d just up and left without warning, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Except one day when he’d gotten divorce papers in the mail. He’d signed them, he said, and mailed them back to Marcy. If she wanted out that badly she got what she wanted. He hadn’t heard from her since. It had been tough on all of them, but they’d done the best they could. He hadn’t kept the return address, he said, because he was so surprised by the divorce.

Winnie had felt sorry for him and the children. He was doing the best he could as a single father. So after three months of dating, when Judd asked her to marry him, she said yes. She was an only child. Her folks had died before she’d graduated from high school. She’d stayed with an aunt in Portland until she got enough money together to move to the coast. She had always loved the Pacific Ocean, and dreamed of living there. She’d settled in Newport, Oregon, which wasn’t a very large town. But a lot happened there in the summer, and Winnie was happy living in the quaint city.

The kids had been little then. They needed a mother. Winnie wasn’t sure she could be a good mom to them, but as she and Judd dated, the children seemed to warm to her. She thought she could be their friend.

After dating for a couple more weeks, they were married up the coast on a quiet stretch of beach near Ecola State Park. Winnie remembered how the minister had mumbled slightly and she’d had to tilt her head towards him to hear the ceremony.

Winnie quit her sales job at the gallery but sold her art and crafts there on consignment. She gave up her tiny apartment, and moved to the farm, located in a beautiful valley east of Waldport.

Chapter 2

Jessie outran the boys with glee. Nearly fifteen years old, she was starting to outgrow that gangly look of all arms and legs. She was blossoming into a pretty young lady, with straight brown hair that hung over her shoulders and shone with glints of gold in the sun. Long dark lashes framed her hazel eyes. She resembled both of her parents, although she didn’t remember what her mother looked like. She didn’t know how to handle her new body that was forming into that of a young woman’s. She’d had that embarrassing talk with her stepmother, the one where Winnie told her about the birds and the bees. Jessie had rolled her eyes and said she’d already learned that stuff in school. Truth was she hadn’t, but she could figure things out for herself. She didn’t need to hear that from her stepmom. After all, Winnie wasn’t her real mother.

Somewhere out in the world her real mother lived a new life. She’d heard her father talking to Winnie several times about Marcy. Marcy had left him when the kids were little. Couldn’t handle having children, he’d said. Marcy had been a good time girl, whatever that meant. It’s what she’d heard her father say repeatedly. Her mother had taken off with some truck driver, leaving Judd to raise the kids by himself. Then her dad had met and married Winnie after a whirlwind courtship. This is what she’d heard through eavesdropping one evening as the kids played around the side of the Dodd’s porch. Mr. and Mrs. Dodd thought it strange that Judd was getting married so quickly. Who was this woman he’d taken up with? Did she get along with the children? How were the children handling this? They’d sounded concerned, and although she was confused, Jessie couldn’t see where it was any of their business.

That her real mother had left when the kids were so young had left a gaping hole in Jessie’s heart. Oh, it didn’t seem to bother her brother much. Now sixteen, he seldom mentioned their mother. Jessie remembered once, years ago, Jim-Bo asked who could blame their mother for leaving? He’d shrugged his shoulders matter-of-factly and had let the matter go. Jessie, on the other hand, had always been obsessed with thoughts of her mother, whom she barely remembered now. It was the image of a woman with whom she tried to identify. It was the symbol of love between a mother and a daughter, of loving and being loved. That was what Jessie felt in her heart and what was lacking in her life.

Winnie had raised Jessie and Jim-Bo for years now. Although Winnie tried the best she could, Jessie felt that stepmothers didn’t really love the kids they raised. They only loved their own. Jessie let Winnie know how she felt about her all the time by being curt with Winnie or mouthing off to her.

Jessie often wondered why Marcy had taken off. What mother would leave her children like she had? She didn’t have any answers, but perhaps one day she would.

***

Jim-Bo Fenton was thrilled school was nearly over. This summer promised to be the best ever. He had his sister to torture. He had his buddy, Skee, to pal around with. He had a classmate he was sweet on. Betsy Ann Willman was a challenge. Jim-Bo had asked her out several times, and Betsy Ann always refused with a laugh. She batted her lashes at him. Not a real turn down, Jim-Bo guessed. It left the door open for further discussion. Jim-Bo wasn’t going to take no, for an answer. He would pursue Betsy Ann until she was his. Yes sir, he thought, this summer was going to be a good one for this red-blooded American boy.

Skee came over to Jim-Bo. The two mutts, Jet and Chet, jumped around him like he was their master, licking Skee’s hand and nipping at his arms. As slender and dark-haired as Jim-Bo was, Skee was the opposite. He leaned toward being pudgy, although his father tried to get him to eat healthy foods. He resembled his mother, who had died four years ago. Skee was fair-skinned, with a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had wavy, medium auburn hair.

What we gonna do today? asked Skee, as they tossed a softball back and forth. He was anxious for school to be over too. What say we go up to the Marsden Mine, check out the damage done over the winter.

That might not be a bad idea, replied Jim-Bo. I’ll swipe a couple beers from the fridge. The old man won’t miss them. We’ll take a sandwich or two, a few snacks, and hang out up there for the afternoon. They were sixteen-year-old boys feeling restless.

He looked up at the sky. Looks like this’ll burn off by noon, he said, waving his hand towards the fog. It’ll probably be warm up there. We’ll clean up the area, chill for a while.

With the plan made, Skee went home to fix his lunch.

Jim-Bo went into the kitchen.

What are you guys up to today? Winnie asked. She was at her usual perch, the kitchen sink.

Nothing much, replied Jim-Bo. Skee and me are going up to the mine and hang out for the afternoon, take some lunch, get the place ready for campouts.

Winnie smiled. Skee and I are going, she said, correcting him. I’ll make some lunch, pack something special for your first trip out, if you want me too.

That would be great, said Jim-Bo. Hmmm, that was one thing less for him to do. He knew Winnie would pack a good lunch. I’ll call Skee and tell him not to pack his lunch.

Jessie overheard the boys making their plan. Going to the mine, huh? She wasn’t going to let them leave her in the dust. She would pack her own lunch and follow them up the mountain.

Chapter 3

Winnie packed a hearty lunch for the kids to take up the mountain. Better fix something extra, in case Jessie tagged along.

Next she worked on getting the laundry started. Then she spot cleaned the floors, picking up the clumps of dirt and dog hair she jokingly called chunks. With that done, she headed out to the greenhouse.

Ugh, what a mess, she thought, as she swept cobwebs from the door and stepped inside.

She flared her nostrils at the smell of damp earth. This project was long overdue!

Although the work area was a disaster, she felt the world’s problems slip away. She was in her private sanctuary. This was her retreat.

When she finished cleaning, which took a couple of hours, she slipped away from the greenhouse, proud that she’d accomplished more than she’d previously planned. The pots were cleaned, the seedlings were planted and placed under the grow lights, and the houseplants were all trimmed and ready to go on the porch. The outside plants were ready to plant as soon as the danger of a late spring frost was past. Geraniums and chrysanthemums, cut down to the dirt in their pots, were already sprouting new growth. She fertilized them and set them outside to harden off, which would toughen the young plants up for outdoor planting. Because summer was around the corner didn’t mean the nights would be warm just yet.

Winnie shook her hair free as she stepped from the greenhouse. It tumbled from its restraint and fell to her waist. A slight breeze whipped tendrils around her face.

She was so engrossed in her world she nearly bumped into Martin Dodd.

Oh, Martin, she said with a start. I didn’t see you standing there. How are you?

Martin, Skee’s dad, lived farther up the road near the mountain.

I’m fine, Winnie. I didn’t mean to startle you. Thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted some vegetables. He held out a bag of fresh veggies from the market in town. Afraid I bought too much. We’ll never eat all this. I have two more bags in the truck, he said with a laugh as he handed the bag to Winnie. His warm smile seemed to brighten the dull morning.

Why, thanks, Martin. Come in for a cup of coffee. I guess the boys went up to the mine this afternoon. I packed a nice lunch for them. And I have free time; I’ve got all my chores done.

I’ll take a rain check, thanks. Next time I’ll take you up on the offer. I’ve got some things to do myself, and he was gone with a wave.

Winnie took the bag of vegetables into the kitchen. Fresh produce tumbled from the bag as she set it on the counter: tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, snap peas, onions, and green peppers. And a few mushrooms. What a score! Maybe she’d fix a big pot of soup for the weekend and put a batch aside for Martin and Skee.

***

Judd Fenton was a real hedonist, only if you called him that to his face he wouldn’t have known what the heck you were talking about.

He took a certain pride in being tall and slender. He liked his dark hair and light brown eyes. He was a man who let no moss grow under his feet. He lived in the moment and seldom thought of consequences. He worked hard and played harder, at whatever he did.

He pulled his truck around the back of Tiny’s Bar and Grill, grabbed a small bottle of aftershave out of the glove compartment, and gingerly splashed it on his face and neck. He ran his fingers through his curly hair before walking into the bar. Inside, he scanned the smoky room looking for Dani.

Dani Long was in the kitchen, but when she came out and saw Judd, a squeal escaped her throat. She ran over to him.

Hey Judd, she said in a naturally sultry voice. She sidled up to him and rubbed her shoulder against his arm.

Dani, Judd said, you are a sight for sore eyes. He spun her around. She looked good in a tight mint-green sweater and painted-on jeans. Get me a beer, honey, and let’s play some pool.

Sure thing, baby, Dani replied. The place wasn’t busy, and Tiny didn’t mind if the hired help played a game now and again, as long as the girls kept the customers’ glasses filled.

Judd went to the back of the tavern and racked the balls on the pool table’s faded green felt. He took a long drink of the beer and let Dani break the rack. She wasn’t a good pool player, but since he’d been teaching her she’d gotten a lot better. Sometimes they played partners in the Saturday night tournaments. Sometimes they won, no thanks to her.

Can you spend the night? Dani asked, leaning over the table to make a shot. She let Judd get a glimpse down the front of her low-cut sweater.

Sure, but I gotta go home tomorrow. He didn’t have anything planned on Sunday, but he needed to rest, maybe do a few chores. He knew Winnie would be on his case to get things rolling now that summer was coming up. It was an annual gripe, one he was getting tired of. Besides, he didn’t want to spend that much time with Dani, truth be told. She was good for one thing and one thing only.

Chapter 4

The Marsden Mine wasn’t a real mine. It was more like a cave discovered by loner Bill Marsden, who named it after himself back in the late 1800s. No one who recently lived in the valley knew all that much about the mine, or Bill, for that matter. Rumor had it that Marsden had lived in the area for a while and mined some ore. But the mine hadn’t given up much, and he’d abandoned it in the mid-thirties. Some said that Bill Marsden had taken gold and silver from the mine—enough to make him rich. But those rumors had died with him.

The Fenton’s and the Dodd’s houses were below the mine. They didn’t think much about the cave, as they referred to it. There wasn’t anything special about the place. It went about a thousand or more feet into the mountain—it seemed endless to the boys. They had been reluctant to see how far into it they could go. The opening looked ominous. Broken boards hung precariously from rotted wooden beams at the entrance. Rusty nails and old tin cans could still be found scattered about if one looked hard enough. Every once in a while they found old tools that had long been buried by dirt, pine needles, or fallen rocks. And when they entered the shaft, light soon faded to pitch-black, where a sharp right curve about eight feet inside the entrance led them down an incline into a dank coldness that took their breath away.

The kids loved it up there.

The clearing around the cave was clean of heavy debris. Every summer Jim-Bo, Skee, and Jessie cleared away fallen branches, rocks, and other stuff that had littered the clearing over the winter. Big boulders sheltered the clearing on the east side, and tall pines and various bushes sheltered the clearing on the left. A gentle brushy knoll dotted with ferns, rhododendrons, and wild roses sloped down the south side of the mountain. If you stood on the edge of the clearing, you could see Jim-Bo and Jessie’s house down in the long valley that spread out to the next small mountain range. Skee’s house lay to the right of the ridge, nestled on a hill among the trees.

Jim-Bo and Skee had tons of energy left when they climbed the mountain to the cave. They surveyed the clearing. Not much to clean up. A few dirty, hard-packed snowdrifts lay in the shadows at the foot of the boulders. Several broken pine branches littered the area. To the right of the clearing some newly-fallen rocks had tumbled from above the opening of the cave.

Skee, gather up those rocks and we’ll make a new fire pit. I’ll lay out the blanket and lunch. I brought us an extra surprise! Jim-Bo said, with a wicked look on his face.

What? Skee asked.

Jim-Bo opened his backpack and whipped out one of his father’s girly magazines.

Skee grabbed it and opened to the centerfold. Dude! She’s friggin’ hot!

The boys laughed. Jim-Bo grabbed back the magazine and tossed it on the blanket. Get busy so we can relax. I got a beer with my name on it.

Twenty minutes later they were sprawled on the blanket, eating bologna and potato chip sandwiches. They sipped beer from the still-cold bottles. Judd wouldn’t miss two—he kept the fridge stocked like a supermarket shelf. As the summer wore on, Jim-Bo would steal a few every now and again, stash them in the stream out behind the barn, and they’d have a six-pack to take up to the clearing on a warm summer day.

Now a fire burned in the pit. Smoke wafted in spirals into the air. It reminded them of roasted hot dogs and marshmallows.

This was the good life.

Jim-Bo and Skee riffled through the magazine, making comments about the girls. They dreamed big plans for the future, each lost in his fantasy of things to come.

Skee didn’t really think about girls