AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mother I don't have time for this.” He spoke for the first time. His voice matched his appearance, cold and detached.
“Nonsense.” She brushed him off, giving Laura a small apologetic smile before continuing. “This is my oldest son, Dexter. Dexter, this is Laura Witherow.”
She had no alternative but to look up at him once again. He did not so much as glance at her, not even the smallest nod of greeting. Admittedly feeling snubbed, Laura quickly looked away feeling uncomfortable. It was apparent that Adell’s son not only found little of interest in Laura, but found her wanting as well. Unconsciously, she straightened her spine.
“Laura is with David Farley. She's not actually one of our employees.” Adell was still cheerful as she continued the introduction. “What is it you do, Laura?”
Abashed, she quietly responded, “Nothing at the moment.”
That wiped the smile off Adell's face momentarily, and drew her son's dark gaze back to Laura's flushed face. Naturally, she glanced back before she could catch herself. He instantly looked away. Taken aback, she forced herself to concentrate on what his mother was saying at present.
“Then what was it you did before?” Seemingly, unperturbed by Laura's admission.
“I have a degree in Psychology.”
“How interesting. Do you plan on following that career?”
“I-I'm not sure yet.” The truth being, since her father's death, she had been in a kind of limbo; not sure where her future lay and honestly where she wanted to see it go. She just needed more time to decide. “My father left me enough money from his life insurance to allow me to live comfortly for the time being.”
“Having a psychology degree must help the process of healing after your father’s death?”
Adell’s question wasn’t uncommon. Most people assumed that because she studied the subject in school, she was equipped to deal with the loss. The truth was, there was no amount of preparation for a tragedy such as the death of a loved one, and in Laura’s particular case, the loss of her last family member, leaving her entirely alone.
“It's one thing to study it in school, another to actually experience it.” She was unable to catch the revealing crack at the end of her voice.
On their own accord, her eyes shifted to the face of Adell’s son. His expression had altered slightly, however it was enough to catch Laura’s attention. He stared down at her in his usual dark manner, though now there was sincerity to the depth of his astute gaze, catching Laura unaware. Then in a staggering split second, a powerful awareness surged between them, and nearly knocked her off her feet. It was if they shared a very intense, if not brief, sense of raw grief. The feeling left her acutely uneasy. The loss of her parent was a personal and painful experience. One, she was certain, nobody could fully understand.
Then, just as sudden, the moment was gone and he was pulling his mother aside, leaving Laura to wonder if the moment actually passed between them. “Excuse us.”
Adell appeared horrified by her son’s rude behavior, if not overly surprised. She allowed him to lead her away, causing Laura to feel utterly foolish. An unwanted headache began to throb in her temple and she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Funny, not more than two hours before, the thought of it appalled her.
Glancing at David's table where she evidently wasn't being missed, she put her drink down on the nearest table and made her exit. Quickly, she fled from the lodge, snatching up her coat from the cloakroom before she left. Outside, the snow began to fall silently again. The Sprucewood Lodge was a popular ski resort located deep in the woods of the Muskoka district. Winter hit early and heavy in this northern region of Ontario. Already the thicket surrounding the city of Bracebridge, where Laura lived some twenty kilometers west, was well covered in a thick layer of snow.
The gravel road leading out of the lodge was completely covered in a sheet of fresh snow when Laura pulled her vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Her windshield wipers swished back and forth attempting to clear her vision. Ruefully, she discovered the route back down to town wasn't as easy as it had been earlier when she followed David's directions up to the lodge.
Coming across a fork in the road, she brought her car to a halt. No signs pointed out directions. Towns were few and far between, wildlife outnumbered civilization. Not to mention somewhere out in the dark night ran the deadly chasm of Hungry Hollow, a corroded fifty-foot drop carved out of the wilderness along the Muskoka River. During the summer months it was a popular tourist attraction with its Suicide Point, a breathtaking view of the gorge and its magnificent waterfalls. But in winter, a death trap just waiting to happen.
Laura bit her lip and wondered if she should turn back and wait for David after all. A quick reminder of his so-called friends had her taking a chance and turning her vehicle left down the dark road.
The night was very black without the aid of the moon's glow. The only cast of light came from the car's headlight. With the snow swirling fast toward her tiny vehicle, it reminded Laura of a glass snowball she had as a child. Only now, she was placed in the core of the ball rather than on the outside.
She had driven only a few kilometers when, suddenly, the wheels from under her car had a mind of their own. Pulling the steering column as hard as she could all the way to the right, the vehicle however, swerved to the left. The next thing Laura knew, her car was airborne. Fear gripped her throat at the realization that she had, indeed, just driven off Suicide Point.
Trees and bush came up fast to meet her windshield as she felt herself dropping. Throwing her arms over her face, she closed her eyes and awaited death. A surprising calm settled over her.
* * *
Dexter O'Reilly wanted nothing more than to be out of this hall of partygoers. He hadn't even wanted to come in the first place. But his mother's grating persistence eventually irked him enough to agree with a short visit. He thought about the unfinished papers waiting for him back on his desk at the office. Impatiently, he glanced at his watch and wondered if he put in a sufficient length of appearance.
Swallowing the last of his drink, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall. He was in the cloakroom slipping on his tweed overcoat, when his mother exited the noisy doors from the banquet.
“You're not leaving so soon, Dexter?” She frowned heavily at him. “You didn't get anything to eat—”
“I'll get something on the way to the office.” He cut her short.
“But the dancing hasn't even begun yet—”
“I don't like to dance.” He finished buttoning his coat then began to slide his hands into a pair of warm leather gloves.
