Tag Archives: unconditional love

Into the Storm

She stood in the doorway of the veranda, the moon shining through the branches, casting eerie shadows over the lawn. She watched as he pulled out of the circular drive, his taillights disappearing into the night; remembering his last words, wondering if she’d ever see him again, knowing full well she didn’t want to live without him, not certain at this point if she even could.

The music and laughter from the house full of guests below wafted up on the breeze and assaulted her; when all she wanted was to be alone. She was torn between two worlds; the one it seemed she had always known, was safe, comfortable and accustomed to; and the one unknown, where she dared to tread.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen, didn’t even know such a thing was possible; but there she was, center of the circle, completely in love with two different men. And though the last thing she wanted was for anyone to be hurt, the pain she now felt she was certain would kill her.

Dante hadn’t flinched when he walked in and found her in Alexander’s arms; her back against the wall, Alex’s hand under her dress exposing her bare naked thigh, as they stole a forbidden kiss at the party she was hosting, where Alexander was an invited guest. Dante spoke not a word, but the look in his eyes revealed all she needed to know. He loved her completely, unconditionally, and if she chose to stay and end this now, she was certain he would do everything within his power to make certain she never regretted it. That’s just the kind of husband he was.

Alexander had demanded a choice. He was not willing to share her any longer. He loved her and wanted to make a life with her. He begged her to leave with him right then and there, was furious and hurt when she hesitated in her response. He told her he was leaving for home on a morning flight to Tuscany; where there would be a ticket for her waiting at the gate, should she choose to join him.

She was a fool to believe it could continue as it was; her having the best of both worlds. In her heart she knew it would one day come to this, but still she was not prepared to make a choice, to give either one of them up. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She kicked off her heels and stripped out of her dress, leaving it where it fell on the floor. Thunder crashed outside as she made her way to the closet, the wind whipping the lace curtains of the veranda doors, causing her to shiver as it licked at her naked flesh.

She stepped inside and turned on the light, pulling on a pair of jeans, a sweater and her favorite leather boots. She took off her wedding rings and the crucifix Alex had given her and placed them on the bedside table. She stopped when she reached the door, turned back and looked at the room one last time, before she made her way down the servant’s stairs and out into the garage.

Lightening streaked across the sky, illuminating the treetops, as she put the Jag in reverse and pulled out of the garage. She put the windows down then pushed the overhead button and the sunroof fell back into place, exposing the night sky that was dotted with black clouds; the moon disappearing then coming back into view.

She drove for miles on those winding country roads, ones she knew so well she could maneuver with her eyes closed; something she did often, to ease her worried mind, but did absolutely nothing for her on this particular night.

She was almost to the marsh when the sky opened up and the rain pelted down upon her, but she did nothing to protect herself against it. The bridge over the Intracoastal was just a few miles ahead and so she began to accelerate on the wet, slippery road. She put on her bright lights so as to better see through the rain, but it was only a brief downpour that didn’t last.

She maintained her speed as the sign came into view, warning drivers to slow over the bridge that was just up ahead. She set the cruise control, then reached down and pushed the button at the side of her seat, holding the wheel as it reclined. It wasn’t until she was lying all the way down that she let go of the wheel and in a loving gesture, cradled her arms over her belly, as if to somehow protect the child that grew in her womb from what was to come; a child created from absolute love, whose father she would never be certain. She took a deep breath and gazed up through the roof into the night sky, the moon showing itself to her one last time.

© jillterry


A night out with the girls, after a tumultuous week at the office; heads turning as they were led to their table; the waiter taking a quick inventory of Blackberry’s, designer bags and bling; calculating his tip even before introducing himself. Once seated and situated, they immediately began bitching about co-workers and letting off steam, then somewhere between appetizers and the second round of margaritas things took an awkward turn.

Shana was the drama queen of the group; pampered, posh and completely plastic. There wasn’t a single person in the office that wasn’t aware of the fact that she didn’t have to work, she chose to; for walking around money. Whenever there was reason for an occasion, she made it a point to play hostess, then downplayed the maid and gourmet chef who not only worked the soiree, but were full time employees.

They had three children, with a live-in nanny who raised them rather than tended them. Ponte Vedra Beach is where they resided; in a sprawling 8,000 square foot oceanfront mansion with their own private stretch of beach; a showplace to be certain, just as Shana was a show piece to her husband.

Sure, she thrived on the attention her looks afforded her, but in truth she loathed the amount of time she was made to spend on her appearance. Yes, “made to.”

Her husband was the most sought after plastic surgeon in northeast Florida and had invested tens of thousands of dollars of his time and talent, on breast implants, tummy tuck and lipo after their last child was born and they were certain they wanted no more.

He hired a personal trainer, which came five mornings a week, to make certain she worked out, because quite frankly, he didn’t trust her to do it on her own; and the chef was to prepare all her meals and keep track of what she ate on a daily basis, so that at the end of the week he could assess her caloric intake and adjust her workout accordingly.

He put her on a routine Botox schedule, which just so happened to coincide with her Mercedes maintenance. Three thousand mile oil change, tire rotation and Botox injections, all in the same day, which she swore was just a coincidence.

As she drained the last of her third margarita, she confessed that he’d recently hinted that for her 43rd birthday he might be giving her a facelift, then burst into tears; professing how miserable she was, and that at the end of the day, all the money, clothes, jewelry, memberships and trips abroad did nothing to ease her loneliness.

Then in the very next breath she turned to me and asked if I knew how many calories were in a margarita. I told her I didn’t know and what difference did it make. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “Are you kidding me? It makes ALL the difference! I don’t have the luxury you do, of having a husband who loves me unconditionally. Richard is surrounded by young, beautiful women every single day and the last thing in the world I want, is to be forty-three and single, with three kids and forced to take care of myself!”


© jillterry

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