Beloved Wife

By Xlibris US

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The following is a work of fiction. However, it is based on a true story. It is a tale torn straight from the yellowed pages of history deep in the heart of small-town Texas. Names, dates and places have been changed to protect the innocent...if there be any.

Love should be magnetic. Did time begin when two lips melted as one under the hot Texas sun? How did the dusty ticking of the clock wrap itself so tightly around destiny? The heart quickens as the arrow strikes home. Adonis weeps once more. Somewhere in the depths of the searing myth the truth beckons from the cold empty grave.

They will roof their temples with the sculls of their victims.

What's the good of courage to the snared hare? If he moves, he dies, if he does not move, he dies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499046687

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Copyright © 2014 by Norma Nation.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 07/17/2014

Xlibris LLC

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Contents

AUTHOR’S NOTE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

EPILOGUE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The following is a work of fiction. However, it is based on a true story. It is a tale torn straight from the yellowed pages of history deep in the heart of small-town Texas. Names, dates and places have been changed to protect the innocent…if there be any.

Love should be magnetic. Did time begin when two lips melted as one under the hot Texas sun? How did the dusty ticking of the clock wrap itself so tightly around destiny? The heart quickens as the arrow strikes home. Adonis weeps once more. Somewhere in the depths of the searing myth the truth beckons from the cold empty grave.

They will roof their temples with the sculls of their victims.

What’s the good of courage to the snared hare? If he moves, he dies, if he does not move, he dies.

***

Each of us is the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.

-Sir Thomas Wolfe

LOOK HOMEWARD ANGEL

***

The disturbing question that has never been answered is: who pulled the trigger? For him the warmth and relaxation must be pierced by an occasional chill, for he has to know there is only one crime in this country for which there is no statute of limitations: the crime of murder.

-Vincent Bugliosi

Author/Attorney

PROLOGUE

Last night I dreamed about her again.

The grassy fields just beyond the old farmhouse shimmer golden in the hot Texas sun. The tiny sprite races barefoot in the perfectly combed hayfield chasing a brightly colored monarch. The elusive insect darts in and out of the yellow waves of grain enjoying his temporary freedom.

Flying like the wind, the beautiful golden haired child tosses the wild yellow mane in the sun, determined to outwit the winged moth. The doting father swells with pride as the joy of his life sparkled in the blazing afternoon. The familiar calloused hands heave the giggling child high into the rusty old tractor seat as the gears whine and rumble toward the bam.

Suddenly the picture becomes blurred. The figures melt and distort into gray as the ghostly apparitions fade. Sara Hayward disappears as the image slowly begins to fade. She tumbles down the rocky old ledge behind the farmhouse and is gone. Why is the air so stifling? Where did the past go?

Shuddering and gasping for air, I bolt upright. The dream has suddenly become unbearable. The elusive answers sail alone lost on the wings of the butterfly. What happened to sanity? Where are the laughing figures frolicking carefree in the somber fields? The ghastly scene distorts into nothingness as the air becomes insufferable.

Hidden somewhere in the recesses of the playground called the mind is a treacherous web of deceit waiting to unfold on the unsuspecting prey. The suffocating night seems endless. What happened to the golden days of summer and freedom and love and passion? What happened to the dreams of youth? Where did life go for the tiny farmhouse nestled somewhere in North Texas?

Shuddering and gasping for air, I bolt upright. The dream has suddenly become unbearable. The elusive answers sail alone lost on the wings of the butterfly. What happened to sanity? Where are the laughing figures frolicking carefree in the somber fields? The ghastly scene distorts into nothingness as the air becomes insufferable.

Tossing and turning against the fragile images, trying desperately to escape the fear welling inside I wipe the salty tears of a lonely spirit. Pain and fear wash down my spine like ice water in the veins. The silence is deafening.

The huge green eyes caress the night through the lace curtains smiling and waving against the chaos. At last the images soften and breathing becomes a little easier. Shivering against the night, wondering silently why it is always so cold as the ghastly dream ensues.

The noise is deafening. An eerie wind howls as the scene unfolds dust flying in the wind. Suddenly, dark ominous clouds send chills through the night. She is swept into a raging thunderstorm and disappears beyond a cold rock ledge, ascending high toward a deep dark mountain. Where did she go? The mountaintop is so far away. A sinister wind roars as the ghostly green eyes fade into black, searching for something lost in the dark. Then a small pale hand waves eerily through the smoky haze. Reaching out for the cold fingers, a raucous crowd begins to shout and taunt the silence with jeers and angry fists.

Glistening emerald eyes smile and wave good-bye. But the mob is too close. Rising higher into the misty dark clouds, she keeps waving and smiling. Someone must rescue her. The roaring mob erupts into violence as the elusive apparition grows farther and farther away. The cold wasted dark yields no answers.

Beams of moonlight dance in and out of the shadows on the purple floor as if nothing happened. The ghastly scene fades eerily as the shrill cry of an injured feline pierces the naked night. A haunting echo of the unrequited wolf fades into the mist. The warm blanket does little to block out the fear. Why is everyone afraid? Why is it so cold?

The same dream plays over and over until night becomes a blur. Why? Why doesn’t the restlessness and madness stop? Why is she always smiling? Why is the mob always angry? Why does the terror still haunt the night? Was Shakespeare right after all, ‘signifying nothing?’ Does love wrap itself around the dusty ticking of the clock and always end in tragedy? Empty answers float aimlessly into oblivion. Solitude sates but is never a panacea. If one cries out loud in the dark silence, does anyone hear?

Why…why…why bumps in the night like a Victrola needle stuck in time.

CHAPTER I

Perched perilously high on the peak of destruction, the moth flies too close to the flame and gets cremated every time. Sara Lynn Hayward read the homework assignment out loud to her cousins, Loni Jean and Laci Jane Layne.

0-o-o! Gross! Loni Jean why do we have to study this stuff? It’s icky…We’re not moths! Sweet innocent Sara shuddered. Why is the world so cruel? What does it all mean, Loni? Beautiful Sara Lynn Hayward, a country girl not afraid to put peanuts in her coke, questioned everything but understood very little about progress and civilization and mostly homework and boys. She was only sixteen after all. Loni Jean Layne was eight months older but seemed to have an uncanny sense about life that eluded gorgeous Sara Lynn. Laci Jane Layne was a freshman and stuck close to her sister and cousin for security. After all it couldn’t hurt for underclassmen to have older friends for protection against the high school boys who targeted the cute newcomers.

What’s all the hurry to grow up? Sara pouted between bites of a decadent chocolate chip cookie.

Civilization….there is nothing civil about homework, she continued. She obviously understood little of the workings of the human mind and cared even less.

Why do we have to study about evil and wars and death and moths being fried over a hot flame? The whole thing is yucky if you ask me, Sara Lynn Hayward would rather be anywhere but studying. Let’s go out to the hayloft and forget all this nonsense, she said. The novelty of her father’s barn and the smell of hay always comforted Sara.

Well, they didn’t ask us and we have to get through this homework and hopefully, high school, Loni Jean answered shaking her head in amazement. How Sara had gotten this far was a mystery. Oh, she was smart. She just didn’t care to learn about the gruesome side of geology and surely wasn’t into studying.

Mankind the one-word oxymoron, Loni laughed.

What does that mean Loni Jean? Wide-eyed Sara would never get it.

We’re cruising in the Titanic, Sara. Loni taunted. No wonder gypsies and nomads feared the civilized world, she continued. Sara just sat staring into space as if the unfamiliar words had never been uttered. She would never understand the workings of the human mind but she was in a big barrel and certainly not alone. Sara Lynn Hayward could not imagine why anyone would dissect a sentence much less a poor innocent frog. The little farmhouse near small town Texas was a million miles from the planet Earth.

The girls loved the country life and Sara Lynn’s parents, Wilma and Jonathan Hayward spoiled them and life five miles west of Autumn, Texas, was uncomplicated except of course for the intruding homework.

Loni Jean, what is this lesson about? You understand all this education stuff. What does this author mean by ‘perched’ and ‘moths and flames? I feel dizzy. Sara lamented.

You don’t need homework to make you dizzy Silly, Loni couldn’t resist and chuckled under her breath, strategically ducking the bright pink pillow flying overhead. Little Laci Jane shook her head in laughter. Weekends at the solemn little farm were life and breath to the three best friends in Autumn, Texas, located twenty minutes north of the thriving big city. The three outlaws grabbed some of Wilma’s cookies and Dr. Pepper and scampered out the old rickety screen door to the solace of the hayloft, homework temporarily forgotten.

The sleepy little town of Autumn, Texas, lay nestled in the rolling hills north of the railroad tracks near Cowtown, Texas. Nothing much ever happened to the Sunday-go-to meeting folks except the occasional Texas tornado or a lazy rattlesnake sunning himself on an old lady’s porch or some old-timer telling stories of how the notorious Bonnie & Clyde used to stop by the local cafe for coffee. Muggers, pickpockets and thieves were left to the big cities. Autumn, Texas, knew little of gangs and mayhem.

The local sheriff and law enforcement in small town Texas did not cotton to trouble but humored the rabble-rousers because they were either relatives or just kids out for a good time. The sidewalks rolled up around six o’clock except for Friday night football and Saturday nights when the high school kids gathered at the Dairy Queen for fifty-cent hamburgers and Coke floats or pined the night away at the local theater or drive-in