The Man Inside

By J.N. SADLER

Amanda Effrem, nicknamed Effie, a young woman journalist, confused about her chosen career path, moves to the country on the Eastern Shore and becomes enamored with Mortimer Washington, a handsome idiot savant. She is determined to break through his shell to understand him and get closer to him. Gideon Faulk, a young missionary who has given up his post in an Asian Village, returns home and becomes enamored with her. Jealousy stimulates Mortimers desire to confess the truth of his real identity to Effie in a brutal way. Gideon tries to win her heart, while her shrink, Dr. Anthony Spagnola, tries to get her into his bed. She must choose between them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514416693

J.N. SADLER

Janet Noel Sadler is a native of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two full volumes of poetry with her own illustrations, Headwinds and Full Sail, and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media PA and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was a former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, Pennsylvania, and at Baldwins Book Barn in West Chester, Pennsylvania. Sculpting, oil painting, and composing music are also her passions. She has a publishing company called Fairfield Limited, which makes chapbooks for local poets. There are two CDs to her credit: Outside of Time and Tone Poems, Et Ceteraoriginal songs recorded by a variety of studio musicians as well as herself. She has authored twenty-five flash fiction novels, twenty titles of which have been published through Xlibris and can be found at these websites: jnsadlerbooks.com, Amazon.com, Xlibris.com, and BarnesandNoble.com. She is hoping to sell one of her screen plays in the near future. [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

The countryside was flat and rich with newly planted crops. It was Maryland, the Eastern Shore area. The Chesapeake Bay wasn’t far from this inland spread where delicate gingerbread farmhouses still stood after hundreds of years of weathering.

A huge, luxury bus stopped at a crossroads stop sign, and an average-size young woman got down off the bus and waited for it to continue on its way. She waved to the bus driver and scanned the horizon. This was a lovely quiet place to write, she thought. She had enough money to last her a lifetime, so she was going to spend it her way and write to her heart’s content…but what would she write about? She didn’t do well as a reporter because the editors said she put too much of her own emotion into factual accounts. When her remaining parent, her mother, died, she was left a small fortune to afford her the opportunity to quit the job that stifled her passion to create. Reality was boring. Her life was boring and empty. Life in this small farming town was just what she needed…a new start to be who she was born to be.

Dust swirled around her feet as the bus pulled away, leaving the toxic smell of fumes from its exhaust. The brightening sun was warming up the air and cast a muffled silence over the landscape, which was quickly turning green and dotted with May tulips and daffodils. Fruit trees were adorned with fluffy blossoms that ranged from all shades of pink and purple to white. Their smell was intoxicating.

Acres stretched out on either side of the road. On one corner, tucked behind a few trees was an old-time gas station. A pick-up truck was on a lift being worked on. A mechanic stood next to the vehicle, wiping his brow. Tree branches obscured his face. She walked over to see if they had a coke machine or a cold bottle of spring water. She was hot and weary from the long bus ride from a suburb outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

As she neared the station, she stooped under a low-hanging branch and met the eyes of the handsomest man she’d ever seen. The smell of lilac filled her nostrils as she inhaled, mesmerized. It was surreal to see unexpected perfection on the first day of her new life in a strange environment.

He looked up at her, without smiling. Her hair was wind-blown into tangles from standing in the hot wind on the corner. She walked closer and pushed her hair into place with one hand. The other hand carried a tapestry travel bag.

I don’t have a car, she said. I just got off the bus. I am going to move into that house across the road and make it my permanent home, or maybe buy a small house around here. She pointed across the road. He stared at her and slowly raised his wrench to a bolt on the undercarriage. I’m Amanda Effrem, but my friends just call me Effie. She reached out to shake his hand but both of his hands were grimy. He didn’t seem to mind or care, but turned to shake her hand, smearing motor oil over her smooth small white hand. He shuffled backwards a few steps. His handsome face and form didn’t match his manners. He was quite clumsy. Maybe he was shy around women. That was it, she thought. He was a hayseed who was put to work early by farm parents, possibly home-schooled, or no-schooled and wound up working in this pit-stop garage. He seemed about her age, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t suave or forward. His handshake was weak, though warm.

There was no pleased to meet you, or a typical male up and down once-over with interested eyes. Mortimer was embroidered across his breast pocket.

He wore a gray one-piece uniform covered with rust and grease. Dark hair covered the back of his hands, and he had a five-o’clock shadow, although it was mid-morning. His hair was not cut by a barber. It was rough and uneven with side-burns and the traces of a mustache. But, he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. What she felt was a rare chemical reaction to his body. This man could not beguile with words, or anything else but his presence. She guessed there was an uneven ratio of women to men in this neck of the woods. Why weren’t they clamoring all over him?

Do you happen to have something cold to drink here? she asked, looking around, past the broken vehicle into the small office beyond. A fat old man puffing on the smoking butt of a cigar raised his eyes over his glasses at her. He was wearing a baseball cap that fell to the ground when he pushed himself away from the big old desk where he was doodling. He was partially bald with a tuft of white hair covering the top of his head. He bent down with a grunt to retrieve his cap and replaced it on his head. His flesh was visible through a straining button mid-stomach on his shirt. A half-eaten sandwich lay on a crumbled piece of wax paper beside the old-fashioned black phone.

Hey! he shouted as he slowly sauntered out of the open door of the office to the garage where they stood. When he reached Mortimer and Amanda, he said, Now, where did a pretty little thing like you come from? You’re a stranger in these parts, aren’t you? I see you’ve met our main man, Mortimer Washington. He’s a specimen for GQ, ain’t he? He’s not much for conversation, but he’s all right, aren’t you, Morty? Hey, I guess you’re not old enough to remember the ventriloquist’s dummy, Mortimer Snerd. He was so funny. Well, I won’t drag you down my memory lane. What brings you to Henley’s Corner? Car broke down? He put his sweaty, pudgy arm around her and ushered her into his office, shutting the door behind him for privacy.

Mortimer went back to work, ignoring the two. He seemed to have forgotten the new arrival’s request for a cold libation.

She sat down across from him. He settled into his squeaky old executive chair.

She began, I am… she was cut off by the noisy arrival of Aggie and Dot, the women who were renting out the second-floor porch apartment to Amanda. She turned her head around to see them clattering into the office. Aggie shut the door behind her. Still, Mortimer kept on working, without paying them any mind.

Well, well, now, ladies, what are you doing in here? Is there a fox in the henhouse, again? He stood back up, relighting his dead cigar. Odorous smoke clouded his face. Effie shooed the smoke away.

Bolan, we’ve come for this young lady, here. She’s our new renter. Least-wise I hope you are. Amanda Effrem? Aggie was a widow, early sixties, plumpish, wearing a country calico housedress and slippers. She had a fake smile, but it worked. She looked into Effie’s face, expectantly.

Yes. You must be Dot Wilmer, or is it Aggie…

I’m Aggie. We didn’t know where you were, so we thought we’d try here. Ms. Pidmore at the bus depot said they left you off at the crossroads twenty minutes ago. We thought you’d be hungry so we prepared you a nice lunch and some ice cold lemonade. Why didn’t you just come over to the house?

Dot extended her hand to Effie. Dot Wilmer, Aggie’s sister. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Amanda. Come on, let’s leave these busy gentlemen to their work and retreat to our nice cool house. I have a feeling we are going to be fast friends. They shook hands and left.

Effie called over her shoulder, Bye. Bolan sat down and waved, then pushed back in his chair to take a nap. The old black fan was wagging its head left to right in a slow motion to circulate the air in the office.

As they passed Mortimer, still straining on that one nut with his big wrench, she said, Goodbye. It was nice meeting you.

He stopped torqueing his tool for a moment and looked up at her blankly and nodded, going right back to the maddening task of loosening that stubborn nut. It seemed to her that the wrench was too big, but what did she know? She was taken, arm in arm, in the middle of her two new landladies across the road to the big yellow house with the double-decker porch with white decorative spindles on the railings. She imagined herself up there at night, looking at the stars and writing her great American novel. She didn’t have any ideas about what to write yet, but she had faith that the story would unfold, that a spark would ignite, and she would follow the spirit that led her. What was Mortimer Washington’s story? Most men who were attractive were vain or conceited. He was neither. He had no charm or personality…just damned good looks. She would find out. He would be her muse. Maybe she could wheedle some information out of her new friends.

They walked up gray board steps to the first-floor porch. It was comfortably furnished with white wicker chairs and tables, plenty of flowing green potted plants and hanging petunias, which gave off a heavenly light scent. There were wind chimes and hanging bird feeders, including one for hummingbirds. When they were almost to the wide double front doors (which each sported wreaths of daisies and yellow ribbons) Aggie spoke. Effie took it that she was the older of the two sisters. She had bigger bags under her eyes and drooping eyelids.

Welcome to our humble abode, dear. This is our porch. The one above us is yours. We sit out here all the time in good weather. You are probably the only person to get off the bus at our stop, she tittered.

Let’s go have lunch, said Dot, walking in the door first and holding it open for the other two.

They stepped into the dark interior that smelled of cinnamon, lemon, and oiled wood. It was a delightful house. The temperature was cool despite the rising heat, outside. There was a good size living room with a side room off of that that had a lot of windows, a chaise, and two walls of book shelves. The lamps were vintage Tiffany, and there was a decorative fireplace not only in that room, but also in the larger living room. Each had impressive fire dogs and screens. The dining room table was set for lunch with country dishes on a red and white checkered cloth. They had made chicken salad and an apple cake.

Effie was weak and hungry. She hoped that after lunch she could take a leisurely bath and relax before exploring the surrounding property.

Set yourself down, Effie, and we will say grace before eating. You can say the grace, if you want to. Or, one of us will. She looked at Effie for a reaction.

I would like you to say grace, if you don’t mind.

They bowed their heads and, the blessing was given by Aggie.

A grand breeze flowed through the dining room through the front and back windows.

As she passed the salad and rolls, Effie said, This is a heavenly place to be. I’m going to love it here.

The two sisters glanced at each other snidely, glad that she had said the right thing to pave the way to a good relationship.

As they finished the main course and passed the cake for dessert, Dot asked, What did you think of the man at the gas station? He’s a looker, isn’t he? She took a piece of cake and put it on her plate. Taking the handle of the sweating lemonade pitcher, she asked, Seconds?

Yes, please, Effie responded, holding out her glass.

Amanda realized that these two women had nothing better to do than get into her business. She would have to throw them off the trail of everything private to her to avoid their ruining her thoughts and possibly tattling to the others. Who they were or where they might be, she didn’t know, but would find out. Her investigative training could help her a great deal with her new endeavor.

Which one? Effie teased with a straight face.

It took a while for them to get the humor in what she had said, then they laughed like boisterous hens.

You are funny, girl! We’re going to have good times together, the three of us. Dot wiped her mouth and reached for another piece of cake. Seconds? she asked, holding up the cake plate.

No, thank you, but it was very good. This was a delicious lunch.

Aggie said, sighing from too much laughter, Seriously, what do you think of Mortimer? I’m curious as to your opinion of him.

Well, he is especially good looking. Not what I expected though when he didn’t speak to me. He seems a little slow. I don’t mean that there is anything wrong with him, but I was surprised that…

That he didn’t flirt with you, you being so pretty and all that? Aggie finished her sentence.

Amanda felt queasy, like did the questioning never end? First it was her parents criticizing the way she felt, then the job, criticizing the way she wrote, now these two women that she firstly thought were okay, but now were bordering on intolerable.

No. That’s not it. He was just kind of hapless. I’m sure he’s just fine, but I noticed that he didn’t have anything to say. Guess he was busy, working on that bolt.

He’s been working on removing the nut from that bolt for days now. They have hardly any business out here in the country. Bolan keeps him busy thinking he’s fixing things, but he don’t. He don’t even question why the damned thing won’t come off. He doesn’t even get mad when it don’t. Every day, he takes his place in front of that danged vehicle and applies great muscle to the thing, using a tool that doesn’t fit. Ain’t that something? She laughed.

It’s okay, said Dot. It’s just strange to see someone so beautiful who’s got nothing inside to back it up. Why, I believe they call people like him idiot savants, meaning that they can function, but they don’t have the brains to wipe their ass, or maybe not that bad.

Amanda was curious and repulsed at the discovery that a man like that could have made her juices flow.

Aggie added, Bolan Klepps took Mortimer in when he was a small child. His parents were thieves and marauders. They never wanted the child. They knew he was goofy in the head. They were arrested and put away for life for killing two guards in a bank robbery. Poor neglected little Mortimer was found days later by Bolan. He was starving, sitting in the ashes of his burnt-down shack on the outskirts of town. Bolan was awarded guardian. He and his now dead wife kept him busy and out of trouble. Mort doesn’t know or understand any of his history. There’s really nothing between his ears, you know, a brain. But, he could win any contest for being the handsomest man on earth, wouldn’t you say?

Yes, he is really handsome. It’s a shame. She paused. I wonder if I could take a bath and take a nap after I help you clean up the dishes. I am tired from the trip.

Why, sure. Aggie and I will wash up the dishes and clear things away, later. We have nothing else to do. It’s really quiet here. The days are luxuriously long and pleasant. There is no schedule to keep, just routine chores, church, and enjoying ourselves in the garden or reading on the porch. Sometimes, we watch TV, but not often. Come on. I’ll show you to your room. Give me that bag.

She reached for the travel bag and hoisted it up the steps in front of Effie. Aggie stayed downstairs. She knew they were anxious to clean up the mess, in spite of what they said.

The stairway was broad, made of reddish-tan polished wood. There was a large landing and the stairway that turned to go up another half a dozen steps. Another sweet breeze rushed in through a hexagon landing window as they continued to the second floor. A long narrow purple carpet covered the floor outside the rooms in the narrow hallway. A door banged shut. Amanda jumped.

That’s just the air blowing the door shut from the breeze. We’ve got no ghosts here. Dot opened a door to a large bedroom with high double bed with brass headboard and footboards. The bed frame is antique, but the mattress is new. We decorated it for you. I hope you like the frills and flowery things.

It’s breath-taking! I love it.

We guessed that you might like pink. I hope we weren’t wrong. Dot adjusted the shade. It was a smidge crooked when they entered the room. The furniture was white, consisting of a desk and chair in its own nook under a big window that looked out over side yard. There was a bureau, chest, night table, and a lovely white rocker with deep rose cushions and a padded foot rest with embroidered roses.

Amanda ran to the window to take in a deep breath of spring air and see if she could see the station from this vantage point. Not from there.

Aggie entered the room as Dot was opening the louvered closet door to put Effie’s bag away. There was a ceiling fan and an oscillating fan on the desk.

Dot pointed to a large pitcher and bowl on top of the dresser and said, You don’t need to use this. You have your own bathroom at the end of the hall. There are two other rooms to use for whatever. One is a sparsely furnished guest room if you have company, and the other is empty. Maybe you could use it as a sewing room or for ironing.

Amanda laughed inside. She did neither of those things. It would be a library or a room for listening to her favorite songs or exercising.

I thought there was a porch on the second floor.

Oh, here. Aggie pulled back a drape that showed a sliding glass door that showed full access to the lovely second floor porch. It was also furnished with wicker and two potted rubber plants that stood about four feet tall, at either end. There was a grand view of the gas station from there. Effie was going to be using this porch a lot for spying and getting inspiration for her book.

She opened the sliding doors and walked out to the railing. There were a couple of small birdhouses on the end posts with nests and peeping birds in them. Her first aim was to see if she could clearly see the goings-on across the road. There was a break in the trees where the electric company had cut a large circle out of the heavy branches so that the garage could be viewed. There was Mortimer working feverishly at the stubborn bolt. When he wiped his brow and looked up, she could see his Adonis-like face. She felt a strong animal attraction to him. She wanted to get very close to him, perspiration and all, and kiss his cheeks that were quickly sprouting a beard from the shadow. She had an unstoppable smile on her face when she made eye contact.

The two sisters nudged each other. Aggie stepped forward, noticing that she was ogling Mortimer. Ah-hem, we have a pair of binoculars on the night stand just for this purpose. Things get boring around here. He lives there, you know, in the garage attic. Bolan has taken a fancy to a widow in the area and he asked her to live with him in his house. He says he might marry again, and he doesn’t want Mortimer in the way. The boy can’t do anything to hurt the place. He does wander around in the night, though, with a flashlight. I think he might be hunting for night crawlers so that he can go fishing in the stream, nearby. So, if you see a shadow going by on the road, it’s him, not some creep-about murderer.

After Aggie said that, Dot added, We spy on him, too. He’s a mystery, that one, but so good to look at. She turned to Aggie and said, Let’s leave Effie alone so that she can get settled in. Tomorrow we are going into town to shop. If you want to come along, we can introduce you to the folks in our congregation at church and show you the shops. They are having a big plant sale and flea market.

I would like that. What time?

Dot replied, "We will go early,