Capital Offense

Her fingers were tangled in his hair. Why couldn’t Warner touch her, kiss her like this? Because Warner hates you, she thought. Loneliness and alcohol overpowered her resolve.

She hung on to Mark, starved for intimacy, starved for the reassurance that she deserved love.

The edge of the kitchen counter dug into her back. She hardly felt it. Mark leaned harder into her, pulling at her dress, his breathing rapid, his eyes glazed in excitement.

Her body screamed for fulfillment.

His hands ripped at her clothing. He lifted her off the ground. Then he was inside her. She clung to him

He moved slowly within her, all the while kissing her face and neck. “You feel so good,” he moaned. “So beautiful.”

She matched his rhythm.

The first tremors of his climax unraveled her pent-up desire. She arched into him as her body spun into a whirlpool of release. She moaned, equal parts amazement and disbelief over her own lack of control.

Mark set her down. “I love the way you smell.” He held her close, his face buried in her hair.

After a few moments, she pushed away from him.

He watched her as he straightened his clothes. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t meet his gaze. Where was her self-control? Guilt flooded her. Her behavior was inexcusable. Carolyn smoothed her dress and tried to regain her composure.

The hall clock chimed: 2:00 A.M. They both turned to the sound.

“I suppose I should get going.” he said.

Carolyn nodded.

“Come here,” Mark pulled her to him. “It’ll be allright.”

“What have we done?” she asked. “This shouldn’t have happened.” Her stomach tightened and she swallowed hard.

“I’m not sorry it happened.” he said. “But we need to think about this. And at the very least find better accommodations next time.”

She didn’t appreciate his humor or his assumption. “There’s nothing to think about. We both have too much to lose. Too many people would be hurt. It can’t happen again…” even though I love you, she almost added, with a depth of emotion that threatened to overcome her. And she did love him, but not the way she loved Warner. That realization, coupled with the thought of what they’d just done, made her nauseous. Alcohol tilted the room, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

“You’d better so.” She still couldn’t meet his gaze.

Mark lifted her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’m not sorry this happened,” he repeated before heading down the hall.

She turned away, convinced it was the booze talking. He had a family to think of. The door clicked shut behind her. She couldn’t let this happen again. Her life belonged to Warner. It always would. She wasn’t willing to hurt others for a temporary fix.

A tremor of fear ran down her spine as she thought of the personal and professional ramifications of an affair. The specter of Edmund Lane loomed in her mind. If her father-in-law ever found out that she’d been unfaithful to his son, he’d destroy her.

TEN

Unable to sleep, Carolyn left the house early the next morning. At the gate of their fenced community, she slowed to a stop and rolled down the window.

“Verne, what are you doing back to work so soon?” she asked the guard.

“Can’t miss too much work, what with the medical expenses and all. The missus is taking care of Billy.”

“How’s he doing?” Carolyn asked. Billy was Verne’s seven-year-old son who had been bathing leukemia for two years.

Tears welled in the man’s eyes.

Carolyn felt a knot forming in her throat. “Is there anything I can do?”

Verne reached out and touched her hand. “Please continue your prayers.”

Carolyn drove toward her office. Why, she wondered, did God allow a small child to suffer? The all-too-familiar feeling of powerlessness shook her, a constant reminder of the untimely death of her own adoring mother, and the years of abuse she’d endured afterward. She slammed the palm of her hand against the steeling wheel.

Without warning, her car bucked with a loud thud. What had she hit? Quickly, she pulled off the road and ran to the furry heap lying in the road.

“No,” she moaned. She picked up the animal. “Poor, poor baby.”

The small dog stirred in her arms, its breathing shallow.

She ran back to her car, cursing herself for being so preoccupied that she hadn’t been paying attention to the road.

She snuggled the whimpering dog into her lap and drove downtown, pulling into the driveway of a veterinarian. Cradling the injured animal, she ran to the front door and tried the knob. It was locked. “Damn.”

Carolyn banged her fist on the door, then peered in through the glass. No one answered.

“Hang in there.” She smoothed her hand over the dog’s head, then glanced at her watch. The vet should arrive any minute.

Carolyn sat down on the porch. Soft brown eyes looked directly into hers. She cuddled the dog against her. She wasn’t leaving until she knew the poor thing would live.

Five minutes later the veterinarian arrived and escorted them into the office. He took the dog from Carolyn and hurried to an examination room.

“What happened?”