Page 1 of Her Only Salvation

Prologue

The sixty gallon black trash bag sailed through the air, hitting the concrete drive with a thud. Yet another joined it moments later, splitting open and spilling its contents across the lawn. The screen door screeched shut, its metal framing clanging against the jamb. Spinning on her heel, Terri trudged back up the thirteen stairs, hit the landing and swung a right, marching up the remaining three. She stopped in the door of the master suite, hands on hips as she surveyed her handiwork. Yes, the place was finally starting to feel clean. She smiled momentarily, then spotted one remaining artifact that symbolized their tumultuous relationship: The eight by ten, professionally framed photograph of the two of them dressed in 1800s attire reminiscent of the Wild Wild West. It marked the first and last vacation they had ever taken.

Marching across the plush, beige carpet, Terri wrenched the photo from the nightstand, opened the window, and tossed it out, adding it to the pile of bags that littered the otherwise immaculate lawn. Mrs. Giles, who was walking her dog at the time, flinched when the glass shattered from the frame sending an explosion of tiny shards into the air. Terri leaned through the open window and offered a brilliant smile to the shocked woman.

“Well hello, Lucy! How are you this fine day? Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” she called, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea roses that had just begun to reach full bloom in the garden below.

Lucy Giles, a petite woman in her early forties, had a body that rivaled a twenty-year-old’s. Her hair was a shimmering golden blond that hung mid–shoulder, her eyes as clear and bright as the sky was blue. Her frosted pink lips returned a half-hearted smile as she surveyed the damage. She looked up, meeting Terri’s exuberant smile with one that clearly said she thought Terri deranged.

“Uh, fine, dear.” She cast a nervous gaze at the split bags that spilled Randy’s rather sizeable and expensive collection of designer suits. “Spring cleaning?” she called up, struggling to keep Rocky, her massive Doberman, in line as he tugged mercilessly at his leash, bent on marking the next available tree along the curb.

Terri grinned at the fine mess she had created as if it were a priceless work of art. She sighed heavily, feeling absolutely elated. “Yes, Lucy. Today I am putting the past behind me. It’s a time for new beginnings. What better than a day like this?” The sun was shining. The wind carried a songbird’s melodious voice, as well as the scent of the lake, sending a series of pleasurable chills rippling down her spine.

Lucy’s eyes roved over the lawn once more, then smiled. She looked back up at Terri and said, “Yes dear, what better.” The women waved to each other then went back to their previous tasks—Lucy walking her dog, Terri throwing out the trash once and for all.

Terri ducked back through the window, sliding it shut, locking it, and double checking to be sure it was secure. As she made her way down through her temporarily quiet abode, she couldn’t help but reflect on her life.

The whole neighborhood had been a party to the craziness that had been their marriage. Each and every one of them had had their share of calling the police when things between her and Randy got a little overheated. Randy was a hothead with a drinking problem. And Terri seemed only to add fuel to the fire. They hadn’t been happy in a long while, and she was fed up. She’d done all she could and last night she’d made a decision: Randy had to leave.

***

The sun was set low on the horizon when Randy’s blue 4x4 rumbled up the drive. Terri sat among the growing shadows brought on by the failing light, perched on the edge of the black leather sofa she and Randy picked out in celebration of their first apartment together. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves. She stared absently into the mug of lukewarm coffee, trying to talk herself out of running in search of a hiding place. The brown liquid trembled beneath her fingers, miniature shockwaves radiating from the outside in as she listened for his response to seeing his belongingsstrewn about the lawn. She squeezed her eyes shut as she listened to the wild roar of his voice as he bounded up the walkway, his heavy boots thundering against the aged wooden planks with each raging step.

Terri placed her mug carefully down on the table, and stood on shaky legs. This was the part she had been anticipating since she rolled out of bed this morning. She’d given Randy his ritual parting kiss as he headed out to work, and then set about clearing the house of all his belongings. Now that he was furiously trying to work his keys in the new locks, she had a moment to reflect on her actions and almost felt guilty that she had gone about things the way she had.

Almost.

What was she supposed to do, though? Given the situation, she could hardly be expected to tell it to him straight. It was too late now to change her mind anyway, she thought, cringing at the threatening baritone that seemed to fill the otherwise quiet neighborhood.

His gruff voice belted out a string of profanities when he realized that, after five years, his keys no longer worked, courtesy of Bob’s Locksmith Service. A thunderous boom against the door gave Terri a start. He’d kicked it. She wrapped her arms around her trembling body, instantly feeling sick to her stomach, listening as he made his way around the perimeter of the house, trying every door and window for a way in. A lone tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about the way things used to be, the way things should be. In the early days, she would have greeted him at the door. Then, after a shower, they would have had a nice dinner together and curled up on the couch to watch the drama unfold on some ridiculous reality show, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Angrily, she swiped it away.

Things would never be the same again. The Randy she knew was gone, replaced by some tyrant bent on her destruction. The only thing that haunted her now were the lingering questions; Why did he do this? What had she done to deserve it? Why wasn’t she enough for him? Had she ever been? They were all questions she had asked herself a million times, and questions that she knew she would never get the answers to. The fact was he was sick, and he needed help that was beyond her expertise.

She barely flinched when the glass from the dining-room window shattered across the pale gray tile. Her favorite potted fern, the last memory she had of her mother, along with bits of terracotta and soil mixed with shards of glass, blanketed the floor. Surprising even herself, she calmly picked up the phone and dialed 911. She spoke in an eerily steady voice, relaying her name and address to the operator, and hung up, ignoring her requests for more information. In her experience, they would get there faster if she cut to the chase. She wouldn’t run. Not this time. Terri rose to her feet, prepared to face her attacker…her husband.

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