Darkness Beyond the Light: John Ross Boomer Lit Series, #2

By Michael Embry

Retirement plans are put on hold for empty-nesters John and Sally Ross when they discover a dark side about their son.

John Ross was expecting to take it easy in retirement after a long newspaper career. But the aging baby boomer learned that like the news cycle, life is unpredictable, with twists and turns—some daily. And they even occur during the Christmas holiday season, a time of happiness and good will for most families.

When John and his wife, Alice, learn that their son, Brody, has been leading a double life, they must navigate uncharted territory to lead him out of the darkness. A surprise visit from Alice's mother, Geraldine, complicates matters while their daughter, Chloe, brings her own personal problems to a not-so-merry holiday gathering.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613093139

Michael Embry

Michael Embry is the author of eight novels, three nonfiction sports books and a short-story collection. He was a reporter, sportswriter and editor for more than 30 years. He's now a full-time novelist. He lives in Frankfort, Ky., with his wife, Mary, and two Chorkies, Bailey and Belle.

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Darkness Beyond the Light

Michael Embry

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A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Mainstream Novel

Wings ePress, Inc.

Edited by: April Bennett

Copy Edited by: Jeanne Smith

Executive Editor: Jeanne Smith

Cover Artist: Richard Stroud

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All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

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 publisher.

Wings ePress Books

www.books-by-wings-epress.com

Copyright © 2017 by Michael Embry

ISBN  978-1-61309-683-3

Published In the United States Of America

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Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

To friends who left this world too soon:

Scott Burnside (1945-2017)

Hopkinsville, Ky.

Mark Chellgren (1954-2016)

Ashland, Ky.

Faith Miller Cole (1953-2005)

Lexington, Ky.

Carole Cash Embry (1942-2017)

Bowling Green, Ky.

Larry Dean Embry (1958-2013)

Los Angeles, Calif.

Marianna Haun (1945-2016)

Lexington, Ky.

James Huckleberry (1948-1967)

Louisville, Ky.

Marshall Jones (1948-1970)

Campbellsville, Ky.

Buford G. B.G. Knifley Jr. (1948-1967)

Campbellsville, Ky.

Velma Rafferty Prince (1949-2017)

Campbellsville, Ky.

Michael Reliford (1944-2012)

Ashland, Ky.

Ed Reinke (1951-2011)

Glencoe, Ky.

Joe Resnick (1954-2016)

Los Angeles, Calif.

Norma Jean Roberts Sinkhorn (1947-2004)

Campbellsville, Ky.

Breck Smither (1966-2010)

Lexington, Ky.

Rena Vicini (1953-2015)

Lynch, Ky.

James Michael White (1948-1967)

Campbellsville, Ky.

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Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.

Washington Irving, U.S. author (1783-1859)

One

Old age sucks, John Ross mumbled as he lifted his legs up and off the bed. He fumbled a few times while reaching over and turning off the annoying beeping from the alarm clock on the nightstand.

What did you say, honey? Sally asked, facing him with her head resting on the pillow.

Aw, nothing. Just talking to myself. John sat up on the side of the bed and stretched his arms in the semi-dark room, only the dim glow of a streetlight filtering through the dark curtains. He felt cracks and pops in his shoulders, neck, and elbows. He covered his mouth during a prolonged yawn, then shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

He scooted over and turned on the lamp, then quickly switched it off as Sally covered her eyes. Sorry ’bout that.

Why don’t you lie back down? She patted his pillow in invitation.

Nah, I’ve been awake for about an hour, trying to get back to sleep. I may as well get up. You stay in bed and get some more shut eye.

I’ll probably stay here a few more minutes.

John eased out of the bed, holding his hands against his lower back as if bracing himself from falling backward.

Honey, are you sure you’re okay? his wife asked, rising up on her left elbow.

I’m fine. He rubbed the back of his neck. It’s just all this stiffness from head to toe. I used to never feel this way in the morning. Or any time, for that matter.

You’re just getting older, sweetheart. Sally smiled warmly.

You don’t have to remind me, Sal. My body tells me every morning I get out of bed. Or after I do some yard work. Hell, even after Whiskers and I take a long walk. Yeah, I’m getting older, but I don’t have to like it.

It could be worse.

John turned around and looked at her. What’s that supposed to mean?

You could have a terminal illness or something like that.

Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just a big baby.

Sally blew him a wispy kiss. Does that make you feel better?

Thanks, dear. I’m going to get me some coffee and read the newspaper. I’ll see you when you decide to get your sexy body out of bed.

Now you’re pushing it a bit, you silver-tongued devil. They both laughed.

John slipped on lounge pants from the top of the dresser. He looked down at Whiskers, their small black and brown mixed-breed dog, sitting obediently at his feet.

Let’s go get some breakfast, little buddy, John whispered as they left the bedroom.

Whiskers followed John to the front door and ran to the side of the house to take care of his business. John walked across the damp grass to fetch the newspaper, just inside the sidewalk instead of on the porch, where it used to be before a change in carriers. Every morning had become an adventure in locating the paper. He looked up and down the dark and silent street. A few lights were on in the houses as neighbors prepared for another workday and kids got ready for school. He smiled to himself as he looked forward to another day in retirement. Some aspects of growing older aren’t so bad, he thought.

There were a few folks like himself in the old neighborhood, retired with nothing pressing to do, unless going to the doctor, picking up prescriptions, walking the dog, getting a haircut, driving to McDonald’s to shoot the bull with other old farts, or diddling about in the house and yard, were considered essential to their quality of life. They had to decide for themselves. John admitted there were many positives about getting older, minus the aches and pains, and moving ever closer to meeting the grim reaper.

Sometimes it was nice to start the day without having anything to do. Maybe this is the good life, John reflected, lost in his thoughts as he stood on the sidewalk. He was snapped back to reality by the flicked headlights of one of his neighbors driving by on the way to some destination. John nodded and lifted his hand. His destination was a warm house and a cup of hot coffee. The only politics would be discussed with Sally. No more office politics.

Whiskers scampered to the porch as John reached the front door. Ready for breakfast? John asked as he let him in the house. When they reached the kitchen, Sally was sitting at the bar with two cups of steaming coffee. She had filled Whiskers’ bowl with dry food.

Mornin’, she said, lifting her cup.

Not sleepy? John asked as he placed the damp, folded newspaper on the counter.

Kinda hard to get back to sleep, so decided to give you some company.

John kissed her lightly on the cheek and sat on a wooden stool across from her. You know, after all these years of getting up early, you’d think I’d like sleeping in. But I really like the pre-dawn hours when it’s quiet and nothing much going on. I’ve learned to appreciate quiet.

Sally lifted the cup to her mouth and gently blew off the steam. You come to realize that noise is almost like pollution, the way it fills the air.

They sat quietly for nearly a minute, taking in the stillness around them, until it was broken by a siren in the distance, followed by barking dogs, and then the refrigerator humming back to life. So much for quiet, John said before taking a swallow from his cup.

John opened the newspaper and flipped through the pages, eyeing the headlines to see if there was anything he wanted to read, and then turning to the obituaries to see if there were any friends, associates or acquaintances who had passed. Another nice thing about being retired as sports editor was that he could spend most of the day reading the newspaper instead of trying to digest most of it before heading to work. There were times when he missed the deadlines of working for a newspaper, but those thoughts quickly vanished after talking to former colleagues still in the daily grind who always bemoaned how everything had changed in the digital age. That was something John certainly didn’t miss. He was glad to be out of that media madhouse.

Anything interesting? Sally asked after he laid the newspaper on the counter.

Not really. Not even any familiar names in the obits. I’ll look at it again later, after Whiskers and I take our morning stroll. Any plans for you?

Whiskers does have an appointment at the groomer this morning at nine.

Forgot all about that. I can take him, John said.

Sure?

I know my calendar is probably full but let me check, John said with a grin. He opened one hand, ran a finger across it as if looking at a daybook. Lucky you, it looks like I’m free at nine.

Great. That means I can schedule an appointment to get my hair cut and go to the grocery store.

You do as you please because it appears I have the complete day open.

Oh, I didn’t know that, she said as her eyes opened wide. Does that mean you have time for some chores around the house?

Uh, uh.

That’s okay, honey. I don’t want you to stress over it. We’ll see how things are going later on.

You’re a sweetheart.

I know. She winked and smiled.

John glanced down at Whiskers’ empty dish. Ready for our walk? he asked, bending over to pat the dog on the head. Whiskers dashed to the front door and waited for his master to take the leash off the hook on the wall.

We’ll be back in about thirty minutes or so, John said.

You might want to change out of those lounge pants unless you’re going to Wal-Mart as well, Sally said with a giggle.

John looked down at his red, white and blue-checkered pants and pursed his lips for a moment. You’re right. he said as he headed to bedroom to change into something more appropriate, like the green baggy sweatpants and gray sweatshirt that really made him look old. Perhaps that was another sign of growing older... he didn’t care.

~ * ~

Sally was talking on the phone at the kitchen bar when John returned after picking up Whiskers at the groomer. She glanced at John and shook her head with a short sigh, apparently noticing he hadn’t changed out of the sweat clothes from earlier in the morning.

Whiskers sat on his hind legs below the treat jar on the counter, waiting for a reward from John for good behavior. John made him rise for a second before slipping a small biscuit into Whiskers’ wide mouth.

Good boy. John rubbed the canine’s back. He went to the refrigerator and poured a large glass of orange juice and headed to the den with Whiskers a step behind. He sat in the recliner and pulled the lever to raise his legs. He was channel-surfing when Sally came in and sat on the couch with her hands in her lap. She appeared exasperated. John knew the look well, and it usually involved something he didn’t want to hear.

He pulled back up in the recliner. Problem?

That was Brody, she said.

Good news or bad news? Or should I ask? John muted the sound on the TV.

Hah! Sally straightened the stack of magazines on the coffee table, taking extra care to square the corners with the tabletop.

Okay, what is it this time?

He’s short on cash and has some bills due in a few days. He wants to know if we could loan him two thousand dollars.

John stared ahead before taking another sip from the glass, this time a longer one. He squeezed his lips, shut his eyes, and slowly shook his head.

Did you hear me? asked Sally.

Oh, I heard you all right, he said after opening his eyes and clearing his throat. I’m getting older but I’m not totally deaf. Two thousand dollars? This has to be a joke. Right? Oh, of course it isn’t. We’re talking about Brody.

He said he had unexpected expenses.

Unexpected expenses? Did he elaborate?

I didn’t ask him.

And, of course, he didn’t volunteer any information.

John stared at Sally for a moment, slightly shaking his head. He lifted the glass to his mouth but put it back down without drinking. He cleared his throat again but didn’t say anything.

It’s always something with him. Sally said. I told him I’d discuss it with you. Tears welled in her eyes.

Our son has been hitting us up for money left and right for the past year or so, John said in a measured tone, trying to keep calm and avoid upsetting Sally even more. So when does he need the money?

He said in a couple of days.

Brody sure likes to let things go right up to the deadline. Great timing, too, with Christmas in less than two weeks.

Sally slumped back in the couch and closed her eyes for a few seconds. What do you want me to tell him?

Maybe we could make that his Christmas present this year?

Please, John, I’m serious.

I’m serious, too. It just dawned on me that would be a great present. He’s always asking for money for Christmas, so why not give him what he wants? He never repays us anyway. Maybe we’ll all feel better about it.

Sally nodded. That’s really not a bad idea. A faint smile crossed her face.

I assume he’s coming in for Christmas along with Chloe, Sam, and Whitney. Didn’t you say your mother might show up as well?

I haven’t heard from her, but you know how she likes to surprise us.

Don’t remind me. John was unable to suppress a chuckle. I love that unexpected call to pick her up at the airport. What a surprise!

She thinks it makes us happy when she drops in unannounced.

One of these days she’s going to pull that surprise and we’ll be out of town and then boom, the surprise will be on her.

I know, Sally said, sounding apologetic for her mother’s actions. I’ve mentioned it to her. She doesn’t seem to care. She says she’s not worried because we’re just homebodies.

She did?

A few times.

Back to Brody. Why don’t you call him and tell him we can have the money to him for Christmas? I know it won’t be a surprise, but again, he’s never received two thousand in cash from us as a gift.

But what if he needs it now?

I suppose I can wire some money to him like I have in the past. But I still want him here for Christmas so we can talk to him. Make that a condition.

I’ll ask him, she said.

Honey, it’s a condition for the money. He either agrees to it or no money. It’s as simple as that. He didn’t want her going easy on Brody this time.

I’ll let him know. Sally slowly rose from the couch and ambled toward the kitchen, as if she dreaded making the call. She looked back at John. I hope it doesn’t upset him.

That’s the least of my worries.

John picked up the remote and turned off the mute on the TV. If Sally was talking to Brody on the phone, he couldn’t hear her, which was his intention. Whiskers napped, curled in a ball in his overstuffed pad next to the recliner and oblivious to everything. John leaned back and closed his eyes.

Sally returned a moment later. No answer.

John turned down the volume on the TV. What?

She walked closer to him and raised her voice. He didn’t answer. I’ll call him this evening. Perhaps he had to run some errands.

Whatever. Why don’t you wait until he calls here? It may be quicker, since he wants something.

I can do that. Sally returned to the kitchen.

John increased the volume on the TV. He shut his eyes, and within five minutes, let out a few snorts.

Sally slipped back into the den and turned down the volume, then kissed John on the forehead.

I thought you were going to get a haircut this morning? John asked, his eyes closed.

I was going to, but after talking to Brody, I’m not in the mood now. Maybe tomorrow. I may go to the grocery store later because we need a few things.

Don’t get too stressed over Brody. John opened his eyes, took her hand in his and gently squeezed. We’ve been through this before with him and we’ll do it again. And probably again and again.

I’ll try. I wish Brody would grow up. It’s just hard to have your children have problems, regardless of their age.

I know, sweetheart, John said, long faced. Sometimes it takes time. I know other parents who deal with various problems with their kids. I hate to say this but there are some where it never ends.

Always a parent, she said with a sigh, slipping her hand from his and leaving the room quietly without saying another word.

~ * ~

In the mood for another walk? John asked Whiskers from the recliner after awakening from a short nap, something that was part of his daily routine since leaving the workforce. He also enjoyed the walks, finding them perfect tonic and temporary escape from the political blather on TV news programs he tried to endure while attempting to keep up with daily events.

Whiskers bounced up from his curled position in his pad and dashed toward the front door. I suppose that’s a yes, John said as he pushed himself up from the chair to follow the dog. He snapped the leash on Whiskers’ collar, then put on his heavy jacket and opened the front door to face sunshine streaking through bare tree limbs. The brightness caused him to cover his eyes with a hand.

Going for a walk, John said, raising his voice for Sally to hear. Shouldn’t be gone very long. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket.

I’ll get dinner started while you’re gone, she replied from the kitchen.

Whiskers didn’t seem to mind the breezy chill as he scampered across the front yard to the sidewalk, nearly pulling John along with him. Slow down, little buddy, John said. Whiskers finally stopped at the nearest tree, where he raised his leg for the first of many marks he’d leave along the tree-lined street of older tri-level homes.

John couldn’t help but notice several For Sale signs planted in front yards of houses. One belonged to his former next-door neighbor Preston Miles, who had been implicated in a child-porn investigation. Hank Summers, another neighbor, was disgraced after his delinquent son had been caught, by John nonetheless, breaking into a friend’s home down the street. The neighborhood sure isn’t what it used to be, John thought. Or maybe it was and he didn’t realize it at the time because he was so wrapped up in work at the newspaper. He preferred to think it was the former, since his house was one of several that had been burglarized in the past year. So much for home, sweet home, as he even purchased a security system to protect items he’d pretty much lost interest in the past few years.

A man and woman, wearing matching lime and black Spandex outfits and bright orange knitted caps, jogged on one of the paths leading to the pristine park. John remembered the old army veteran, Bernie Shipley, who had been murdered only several weeks earlier while patrolling the grounds as a self-appointed guardian. Somehow, the place didn’t seem as safe as it once did, although the grumpy man could be a pain in the ass, especially when yelling at John to make sure and pick up Whiskers’ poo. John learned from the man’s family that Bernie had early onset dementia. Ironically, it was Whiskers who found Shipley’s battered body off the park’s beaten path, tucked behind a bush. It was now Bernard Shipley Memorial Park, in his honor. Ironic, John thought, that Shipley had paid the ultimate sacrifice for his service to the park, rather than in his years in the military.

Whiskers made his way to the bench where they always sat. John removed the leash and Whiskers ran toward the pond, creating mischief as he chased ducks, who fluttered their wings in panic, into the cold water. After several minutes, the dog returned and jumped on the bench. John stroked his back several times. Ready to head back home?

He refastened the leash to the Whiskers’ collar, and quickly picked up the pace as they left the park. The sunlight was beginning to fade past the treetops and he wanted to get home before dark.

As they got closer to the house, John noticed his neighbor Bert waving at him. He steered Whiskers in his direction.

What’s up, Bert? he asked as Whiskers ran up to sniff Bert’s shoes.

Haven’t seen you in a while, Bert said. You been cooped up in the house?

For the most part. Trying to catch my breath from all the activity the past few months with the break-ins, investigations, and Neighborhood Watch program. How about you?

Nothing much for me either. We put up the Christmas tree after Thanksgiving Day but that’s been about it. How come you haven’t put one up yet? It’ll be here before you know it.

You’ll have to ask Sally. She’s in charge of that department.

Not much into Christmas?

Probably not as much since the kids are grown and live in other cities. But they’re coming in this year, so we’ll have the tree up for them.

I don’t recall you having a tree last year, Bert said.

Nope. By the time we realized we didn’t have it up, it was too late to go to all the trouble. It’s really not that big of a deal for us anymore.

The birth of Christ?

Huh?

Don’t you want to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ?

John paused a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and not wanting to enter a religious discussion about Christmas, or anything for that matter. He really wanted to go home and eat dinner. We all celebrate in our own ways.

I suppose so, Bert said, leaning forward. But a tree tells the world how you feel.

We’ve always looked at a decorated tree as a celebration of Santa Claus. We’re more into gifts for our children and friends.

You’ve got to be kidding me, John. Bert narrowed his eyes. That borders on sacrilege. I never expected to hear something like that from you.

John glanced down at his watch but not at the time. Listen, Bert, I’d love to discuss this more with you, but it’s getting dark and colder, and more importantly, Sally probably has dinner on the table. I don’t want to keep her waiting.

Oh, sorry, John. I didn’t mean to hold you up, Bert said with a tight smile, then added, I do hope you rethink Christmas. As they say, it’s the reason for the season.

Have a nice evening, Bert, John said with a nod as he turned around to go to his house. Give my regards to Wilma.

John unleashed Whiskers as they reached the front yard. The dog ran to the side of the house to do his thing and returned less than thirty seconds later, running into the living room as John held the door open.

John removed his jacket and put it on a hanger in the front closet while Whiskers headed to the kitchen to his food and water bowls.

Did you have a nice walk? Sally asked as he entered the kitchen. I bet it’s chilly out there.

It wasn’t too bad until the end, he said, pouring kibble into Whiskers’ bowl. That’s when I saw Bert.

Bert?

He questioned why we didn’t have a Christmas tree up last year. He seems to think that not having a tree is some sort of blasphemy against Christ.

That sounds like Bert. Sally shook her head as she sat at the bar across from John, where she had set two plates of baked spaghetti, with small tossed salad and breadsticks for their meal.

He didn’t seem to like it when I said we looked at the tree as something to celebrate Santa.

Oh, John, Sally pressed her lips for a moment. I bet that upset him.

That’s when Whiskers and I made a quick retreat and came home.

Always something with Bert.

And the funny thing is that I’ve never known Bert and Wilma to be churchgoers. He can be so damn sanctimonious about Christmas, and probably Easter and a few other religious holidays, but that’s about as religious as it gets for him.

A lot of people are that way, Sally said as she rolled spaghetti on a fork. It’s all for show and appearances.

It really upset him when I said, ‘happy holidays,’ as we were leaving.

Oh, John, Sally said, with a wide-eyed expression. You didn’t.

Just kidding, hon, he said with a chuckle. But I should have.

I wouldn’t put it past you.

By the way, dinner’s delicious, John said, picking up a garlic breadstick and taking a bite.

I still haven’t heard from Brody.

John shrugged. He’ll call when he wonders what’s taking so long with the money.

I hope he’s not in serious trouble.

John couldn’t suppress a laugh. The only ones in serious trouble are us when he calls asking for money.

Sally took a deep breath. Now, John.

You know it’s the truth. When was the last time he called simply to chat?

Let’s change the subject.

Fine by me, especially since we’re eating dinner.

There you go again.

John raised his shoulders. What?

Never mind.

What do you want to discuss now?

When do you want to put up the tree?

Maybe we shouldn’t do it, just to piss off Bert. John flicked his brows up and down and grinned.

Now John, that’s not nice. He’s been a good neighbor.

You know I’m not serious. I like Bert, in small doses.

When are we going to put up a tree? Sally crossed her arms over her chest.

That’s your call.

She dropped her arms and sighed To be honest, it does seem like a chore anymore.

Now you’re agreeing with me, John said with a wide grin.

I wouldn’t go that far. She nibbled at her salad. I’m just saying it takes a lot of effort to put up the tree... ornaments, lights, and everything else. Before you know it, it’s back down again. Then you have to remove the ornaments, lights and everything, box them up and store them away for another year. For just the two of us, it’s a lot of trouble.

I told Bert it wasn’t the same since the kids have grown up and left. But since they’ll be here this year, we’ll have one up.

I feel the same way, Sally said, her blue eyes open wide. Having the kids around makes it Christmas.

How about if we go out and purchase a small tree, one with lights already installed, and you can put on a few ornaments?

Sally frowned. That’s a thought but it won’t work.

How come?

I’m not going to put up a tree like that with Whitney here. If Mother shows up, we’d never hear the end of it. She’ll probably complain about not having a real tree.

Good points.

I’m glad you agree with me.

You know what they say?

Huh?

Jesus is the reason for the season.

Okay, John, you’re being sarcastic again. She glanced toward the ceiling and shook her head.

John grinned. That’s what Bert thinks.

Okay, let’s just eat.

~ * ~

It’s been two days since Brody called, Sally said, putting on a pink cotton nightgown. John was already in bed, reading the latest Richard Whitten Barnes novel, while Whiskers was lightly snoring in his pad in the corner