A romantic encounter

            Dina shut off the light to the exam room leaving just the faint light of her eye chart glowing.  Craig was sitting in the exam chair as asked upon entering the room.  ‘Darn was he gorgeous’, Dina thought to herself.  Dina noticed his eyes, of course, when she first glanced at him in the waiting room earlier.  She noticed how very green and sensual his eyes were.

            Dina went through the normal exam of determining Craig’s ability to see near and far.  She knew the best was yet to come.  The process of looking deep into one’s eye was her favorite.  She could tell so much from this part of the exam.

            Dina guided Craig’s chin firmly up against the tonometer, a machine to check for glaucoma, briefly touching his cheek with her finger tips.  She felt him shiver.  Deep into his eye Dina noticed a very unusual pattern, a pattern similar to a spider web.  She was fascinated.  Dina’s knee bumped Craig’s by accident as she adjusted her equipment.  She noticed that her handheld magnifying piece dropped and landed in Craig’s lap at his crotch.  They both suddenly looked at each other, Craig appearing embarrassed.  Thank goodness he couldn’t see the color of Dina’s face clearly in the dim light or the excitement her body displayed.

            She didn’t know what was happening but Dina wanted this man.  She had never felt this way before, especially about a patient.  ‘Snap out of it,’ Dina told herself.  She could smell Craig’s aftershave, or maybe it was his cologne.  It didn’t matter.  Whatever it was Dina would love to drop him here and now to do unmentionables.

            There it was; the disease starring her in the eye.  Craig’s ophthalmologist was spot on.  There was definitely a change in the pressure within Craig’s eye; a clear sign of something more serious. 

            “More testing is needed Craig in order to further understand what is going on with your eyesight.  I’ll set you up with a dye injection at Boston Regional.  This test will allow us to further access what’s going on,” Dina explained.

            “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Craig replied.

            “Well, I’ll do my best to get something scheduled later this afternoon or first thing in the morning if that will work.”  Dina hoped it wouldn’t so Craig would have to stay in town longer.

A Willing Prey: Chapter 1

            She found herself again in stirrups, naked and sure this time Dr. Rachel Johnson would find something wrong.  Why else can she not find the right man as a partner and best friend?

            “Nope,” said Rachel.  “There still is nothing wrong with you Dina”.

            “Are you sure?  I’ve been feeling different.”  She had felt cramping, spotting and heavy menstrual cycles.  She was sure that she was projecting off some sort of scent or something that was keeping that right man away from her.

            “Dina, you need to stop convincing yourself there is something wrong.  Next time I’m going to charge you double.  I love you but seriously I have other patients who have real problems.”  She could tell her long-term friend from college was getting fed up with the more frequent visits in Rachel’s very busy OB/GYN office.

            “Okay, okay.  I swear not to be back until at least my next annual exam.”

            “I think you’ve had more than enough exams this year Dina.  Give yourself and me a break.  No offense but I’ve seen enough of you and your vagina.”

            Rachel Johnson and Dina Montgomery had been best friends since medical school.  Rachel always knew she would be working with babies.  Dina was late in deciding her medical career but once she selected her specialty in ophthalmology it only made sense.  She had a knack for seeing into the being of a person and knowing exactly who they were.  Or at least she thought she did.  She still hadn’t mastered that talent with her men.

            “Okay Dina, I will see you Friday at the spa.”  Rachel pushed back her stool from the exam table peeling her gloves off and depositing them into the biohazard container.

            “I won’t be late, promise.”  Dina had been late the last couple of times.  Rachel usually is the one who has the emergencies with early arrivals from eager babies entering the world but lately Dina had been the one late.  Her practice was keeping her busy for some reason with unexpected orbital fractures out of the local county jail.  She was almost convinced those prisoners did nothing but knock each other out for the hell of it.

            “I think we should catch lunch at Little Italy on Beacon Street after the spa.  What do you think?”  Little Italy was her favorite ever since she met her most recent on-line date there, which turned out to be a tragedy except for the food.

            “Can’t.  I have a c-section at two that day.  Maybe next week.”  Rachel was entering her busier season.  It amazed Dina that there was actually a busy season for gynecologists.  She guessed the old wise tale of cold weather creating babies holds true because summers kept her best friend Rachel extremely busy from August until October.

            Rachel walked Dina out of the exam room and to the front desk.   She knew the drill; hand the charge form to the receptionist, pay the co-pay and schedule her follow-up appointment.  Today she knew better than to reschedule.

            “I will see you Friday girlie.  Enjoy your week and try to stop worrying.”  Rachel gave Dina a quick hug and turned to go to her next patient.  Dina knew Rachel was right.  Dina had nothing to worry about.  She totally trusted Rachel.  Rachel was the best doctor and friend anyone could have. 

Dina smiled sheepishly at the receptionist who returned the smile as to say she knew that Rachel was tired of seeing Dina in the office.  The receptionist took Dina’s credit card, ran it through for the usual co-pay and returned it with her receipt.  Dina gathered up her belongings and headed out the door back into the heat of the day.

Chance encounter

     Separated by mere chairs along the wall outside the lone courtroom in the very small town courthouse we are both here today researching our ancestry.  Spider tells me he is from here; I on the other hand have traveled from the east coast to find myself and my past.  I have no interest in small talk.  I have a lot of ground to cover and things to do during my trip in a small amount of time.

     Suddenly a small stout man quickly emerges from the lone courtroom.  He told Spider and I to "come with him" and wisked us off to a small wood paneled room next to the courtroom.  The next thing I know the judge introduces himself as the appointed clergyman who is going to marry us today and where were our witnesses.  Spider looks at me at the same time as I quickly look him up and down.  We both stammer at the judge boisterously and simultaneously, "we're not getting married".  The judge jerked his head up from his paperwork with a questioning look upon his face, "then why are you here together?"

     We cleared up the misunderstanding with the judge, walked out of the look alike chapel and sat back down outside the courtroom where our documents were still sitting incomplete and some untouched.  For a moment we both sat there taking it all in when finally Spider turns to me and says "do you want to go to dinner?"  "Sure," I replied still stunned by what happened and how quickly things could have turned very weird, very fast.

Ana Bell Johnston

            I’ve had enough.  I leave in a hurry from our run down farmhouse that I’m constantly reminded is not mine.  I don’t want it to be mine.  Who would?  The porch is falling down and the carpet needs replaced, where we have carpet.  The basement is actually a crawl space with a dirt floor that you can’t do nothing with.  Larry hoards everything he finds and thinks he’s gonna make a fortune out of it but will never part with anything.  I think just about every car and truck he’s owned sits in our backyard.

            But I’ve had enough.  His drinking tonight is more than I can handle.  I walk up the road knowing I’ll come to The Rebel first before I head out of town to the hollars.  It’s a hot night, very muggy.  Luckily it ain’t any earlier.  I hate walking when the mosquitoes are out.  I stumble a little because I’ve been having those pains again.  The kind I get when I can’t breath.  Doctor says it’s from my up-bringing.  I am traumatized or something and I have breathing attacks remembering it.  Whatever, I just take them pills because it goes great with tequila chasers.  They take the pain away.

There isn’t much traffic out this time of night on a weekday.  I didn’t think about what I was wearing when I left.  I just walked out with my shorts and t-shirt grabbing my purse on the way.  Little does Larry know I still have his paycheck with me.  He’ll be pissed in the morning but what else is new.  I think that man wakes up pissed and goes to bed even more pissed.  Today is no exception.  I’ve spent all day being yelled at for one thing or another.  I’ve had enough.   It’s about time I left his ass for good.  I know, I’ve said it before but this time I mean it.  I’ve had enough.

There ain’t too many cars out front of The Rebel.  I’m grateful for that.  I don’t want to be seen by too many people with the shiner Larry gave me on my birthday.  When I asked him what he got me for my birthday, he punched me and said “this is what I got you bitch”.  My eye still ain’t healed all the way.  Nothing a little make-up can’t take care of.  But that’s been a few days and Larry totally denies it ever happened.  He said “you fell walking up on that rickety porch out front woman and don’t you go round telling lies otherwise”. 

I walk through the door of The Rebel allowing a few seconds to pass so my eyes can get adjusted to the dimness of the room before I venture any further.  I pretty much know my way around.  I use to work here.  This is where I met Larry one drunkin day long ago.  It should have been a sign, meeting in a bar.  I’m learning from every bruise and attack on my body that alcohol and Larry don’t mix. 

Prologue

Dear Kaylie Mae,

If you are reading this you have found my voice put on paper over many years.  You have only started to know me, your Mama, as an adult; the friend I could have been if only I were given the chance.  The life I wanted and the life I lived were two different worlds intertwined beginning many years ago. I witnessed and learned things that no one should have to see or know. I protected those I love in different ways. I protected one for life and protected another from death.

I don’t expect you to understand why I did the things I did. I did what I did out of love, deep love and protection for you and your Daddy.  I truly don’t understand how it all started myself. To look back on my decisions that I made I know that my actions had to be the way they were. I had no choice. I value life, I value family more. I did what I had to do to survive in the only way I knew how.

Please understand as you read my journey, my life, that I love you and I will always love you and your Daddy. I’m sorry if my actions to protect those I love have caused you heart ache, shame or discontent. One day when you have a family of your own you will feel the joy I felt with the family I created, the family I had to protect from despair and destruction.

Love always,

Mama

Exert from Betty's diary

When I was young I dreamed of better; a better life, a better opportunity, a better everything.  I met Mack Jr. and everything changed. I was warned.  I knew better.  There it is again that word 'better'. But at the time I thought Mack Jr. was better.  He was better than others.  He was better than working Daddy's fields.  Better than working Daddy's store with no appeciation. Better than slaving in this hollar.

I met Mack Jr. at the town dance. I hated the dances, plus I never could go because of my chores at home. Karla Jo begged me to go. She went often enough to make a name for herself.  It wasn't something I liked.  Karla Jo was me best friend. We'd known each other since the 2nd grade. Our town wasn't that big so you were either friends or not. Everyone knew everyone.  You know everything about everyone's business.

I've done my best though to keep my family secrets. I'm not proud of the life I've been dealt. Kaylie Mae was the best thing to happen to me. If it weren't for her I don't know what I'd do. It took me forever to get pregnant. I often wondered if it would ever happen. I was fairly confident it wasn't me. I was more scared that it had something to do with Mack Jr. I guess scared isn't the word for it. Mack Jr. was rarely home so I know I had a hard time conceiving because of him. 

Mack Jr. and I had a good relationship. We weren't best friends. I document this now in hopes that Kaylie Mae will understand. I only want you Kaylie Mae to do better in life than I did. Yep, there's that word again 'better'. Through documenting my past I hope to do better even still for the love of my life, Kaylie Mae. If I can only achieve this part then I have done 'better'.

Kaylie Mae

I hate this long trip to the Saint Mary's Correctional Center.  I now find myself making this trip weekly as the end nears.  SMCC houses a variety of convicted offenders but it also houses those geriatric and chronically ill prisoners.  My Dad qualifies in both categories.  I come weekly more for the material I need for my book.  At least that's what I tell everyone.  My friends try to be understanding.  Michael will come along with me during many of the trips.  No one else will visit my Dad.  I really shouldn't be either.  I do it for the book but my heart tells me I'm doing it for other reasons.  I haven't figured that part out yet.

I've always been a writer.  I spent my younger years growing up watching my Mom writing.  She wrote for the local gossip paper.  I later found out she wrote so much more than anyone ever knew.  As I drive the long trip to SMCC I wonder what to do with Mom's writings.  She wrote poetry, short stories and many entries about her life.  I haven't even read it all.  I need to.  It will definitely help me finish the story I am writing about my life, "My Life Related to a Serial Killer", or something like that.  Not the catchy title I was hoping for. 

I'm under obligation to finish this book by year's end if I want to pay Michael back for the past year's rent.  Michael warns me daily as I stare off into space that time is nearing.  I know it is.  Time is not on my side; it is not on my Dad's side either.  Being the daughter of a convicted serial killer I feel as though life in prison is my sentence.  Dad didn't get life of course.  He was sentenced to death.  But as with any death the time cannot be predicted.  Appeals are required for such a sentence and then he waits. 

I try to think of something else.  The lingering book deadline is causing me worse anxiety than the trip to see Dad already puts upon me.  I keep stressing over that one piece of the book that I feel I'm missing.  That's why I've decided to make the 8 hour trip once a week to see him in prison.  The answers are there.  I feel it.  He always makes me believe he is speaking candidly but I leave SMCC feeling as though I'm still missing something.  I'm still missing that cliff hanger that will finally publish my book.

Mack Jr.

It was the hottest night of the year or at least it felt like it.  I had been out a few hours and decided to stop by the dance.  Maybe I could pick up a girl at the dance and do what I do best.  I considered myself a smooth operator.  My brother Billy and I kept track of our takings.  I was one ahead.  He promised to be ahead by weekends end.  I started out good at the dance.  There were plenty of opportunities.  Most of the girls I knew, some were in from the other country sides visiting relatives in the hollers.  I could have my pick and up the ante before Billy even got warmed up.

I never paid no attention in the past to Betty Jo.  She was plain, simple and not that good looking.  Tonight though, something in her jumped out at me.  Her smile maybe?  Or the fact that KarlaJo was acting like a fool made anyone look good; I’m not sure which.  I tried me best line on Betty Jo, “do you want to have a little fun tonight”.  She didn’t fall for it and walked away.  KarlaJo stood there with her mouth open.  I could have settled for KarlaJo but now I was determined more than ever to be with Betty Jo.  I finally convinced Betty Jo that I just wanted to dance.  That was only half the truth. 

            I had to see Betty Jo after the dance.  She left out of there so quick that I didn’t see which direction she went.  I know her folks own that broken down market up the hill and into the next holler so that’s what I set out to do, make the trek to that silly market just hoping I could catch a glimpse of Betty Jo.  So as the Summer dragged on I walked the extra mile or so past Coy’s Market and to the next holler just to buy cigs.  Damn was it hot that Summer.  I felt every last sunray as it beat down on me.  Sometimes I hitched a ride, most of the time I cut through the creek bed making the trip a little more bearable.  Either way I knew I had to see her.  I had to have her.  Betty Jo wasn’t like the others.  Some of the others aren’t like anything now but that’s beside the point.  Betty Jo was different.  I would never do anything to hurt her.

            Betty Jo finished school the next Summer.  It was slow going, her and I.  I caught up with her at a few dances but I also had to keep up my numbers so Billy didn’t get too far ahead.  Being a man I can’t let no body compete better than me.  So I still went out with random girls in town as well as some from other hollers and country sides.  None stayed in my mind as much as Betty Jo.  After she graduated her Ma allowed her to officially date.  Wasn’t much we could do without a car and money and all.  We’d walk down Betty Jo’s holler and talk.  She wasn’t allowed to my side of town, but that didn’t matter. 

One day Betty Jo brought a basket along.  She had a sandwich for herself and another that she had to pay off her younger sister Carmen to take.  Guess she had to clear dishes and do the laundry that week for the extra sandwich.  With money being tight her Pa would never allow food to fly off his table for “no redneck living on the other side”.  It was good all the same and we talked about everything along the creek bed as we sat.  I tried to kiss her but she wasn’t having any of it.  I knew that would have to change sooner than later.

            “Betty Jo, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.  Why won’t you give me some of that,” I begged her.  Yes, me begging hard to believe huh?

            “Mack, you know I’m not that kind of girl.  I’m only 15 and I have too much ahead of me.  What on earth would I do with a baby?”

            “Kissin don’t give you no baby Betty Jo.  Lovin gives you babies.”

            “And babies put you on the Welfare Mack Jr.,” Betty Jo insisted.

            “Now just because people have babies don’t mean they’re poor my love.  There are plenty of folk in this town with kids that aren’t on Welfare.  Look at the Coy’s.  They’ve been running that corner market for years survivin.”  I pleaded.

            “The Coy’s own half the county including the next holler too you know.  They’d better not be on welfare taking my Ma’s only way to feed us.”

            So it was settled, at least for now.  No lovin, no kissin from my one and only true love.  At least not that Summer.  I would wait though for her if that’s what it took.

Hobo Jack

Long ago I had a house, a wife and a young child.  I had a job, not necessarily a career, but what I made supported us along with some local assistance from the Welfare Office.  Then I got into some trouble being young and immature.  It was too much for Ellie.  Being a mother responsible for another human life she kicked me out.  I can’t blame her or least at the time I couldn’t blame her.  I wish she would have had faith in me and our relationship but that’s not the way it worked out.

I was given very limited supervised visitation with our daughter KarlaJo but I never exercised my rights.  I was too self absorbed in myself at the time, my demons and those that contributed to my struggles.  Ellie didn’t want KarlaJo to be part of my life then and as I wised up she didn’t want her to be part of my life later either.  But our paths would cross again at a time that my daughter needed me the most; the day KarlaJo was brutally attacked by someone she trusted, someone that no one should have ever trusted.

He was KarlaJo’s age.  I had seen him around.  Living off the creek road in my own piece of the holler away from civilization had its benefits but I would see him in the night doing unmentionables.  I kept an eye on him.  He was slick, but not as slick as I was.  I always tried to keep one step ahead of him, eyeing him, making him fearful enough to stay his distance from me.

At first I thought it was a sort of lover’s lane type of thing, necking in the woods but then the screams came; some quick, muffled, distant then non-existent.  Others ran into the night.  Some may have gotten away, I can’t be for sure.  I minded my own business but kept one ear listening and an eye keen to what was going on in my woods.  I watched him slither into the darkness.  He could disappear back into the night as though he and his latest prize had never been there.

------------
The night fate brought me to KarlaJo was one I wouldn’t forget.  I heard her screams, chilling and coming closer.  I lied in wait, trying to disappear into the night living the quiet secret life I had chosen years ago.  This night it wasn’t going to be possible.  The screams got closer, faster.  I snuck into the night trying to deter attention to my home, a sleeper into the dusk to hush the noise.  No struggle, just calm as she felt secure in my grasp, my hushes and assurance, she was okay with me as I guided her through the woods.  Maybe it was a subconscious or a familiar feeling that calmed her.  After all I am her Dad.  We walked quietly, briskly through the night quietly by moonlight through the holler pathways to her Mother’s.  I knew the house well.  I’ve spent countless hours, days, even years visiting the area sitting and watching my family that I once had.  I delivered KarlaJo through the night to the backdoor I so often looked into from afar.

Her Mother, my wife, was sitting at the kitchen table drinking her favorite evening glass of hot tea and milk.  It always helped her sleep.  I startled her as I pushed open the door and handed our daughter over to her, battered, bloody and now hysterical.  I quickly turned away and left the house back into the night not giving any chances to answer questions or creating new ones.  Our eyes locked briefly, Ellie knowing who I was but not knowing what to say except to console our daughter.

I’m sure the two of them had lots to say.  I knew KarlaJo was okay but mentally the attack by Mack Jr. would take a toll on her.  I heard in town that after the attack Ellie shipped our daughter to her Sister’s in upstate Jersey.  It was for the good I know but I miss seeing her even if it was at a distance.  As the years went by I would find out more to why KarlaJo was sent upstate.  When Mack Jr. was picked up for multiple counts of murder many outsiders, attorneys, media, journalists, you name it they came from far and wide.  Of these outsiders one came for more than the story of the hillbilly murderer.  He came to find himself and the history from which he came from.  My interest peaked in him and vice versa as he came poking around.  Another sense of familiarity just as KarlaJo had felt with me those many years ago as she ran for her life from Mack Jr.  This stranger was familiar.

-------
The last thing I wanted was to talk to any of the “common” people.  I’ve made a quiet life for myself deep in the holler away from civilization, away from the demons and struggles.  The case of the hillbilly murderer was big news in a small West Virginia town.  There were too many people poking around, pulling public records, interviewing locals at every local hangout for any bit of information to boost their stories.  One young man, Michael, was eerily familiar and persistent in speaking to me.

I mind my own and stay away from even the locals.  I stop in the Pick N Save once a month if I have to in the middle of the month, early in the morning, and every now again into The Rebel for a drink by myself at the end of the bar.  I say a few words to Ed the cashier at Pick N Save, a man I use to know well years ago.  I say a few more words if I have to with Bernice the owner of The Rebel.  I’m sure they talk about me and how strange I am but I prefer that mystery in my life.  The less they know about me the better off we all are.  Unfortunately one of ‘em clued the sleuth to my shopping habits and there he was trudging through the woods in his fancy New York clothes.

Michael was his name, a reporter from the Underground something or another.  As I mentioned he seemed familiar but when I first met him I didn’t know why.  His features were eerily similar to mine and that of my daughter’s.  I had heard in town many years ago that KarlaJo passed away suddenly at a much too younger age.  Rumor in town was that the child Mack Jr. fathered during that brutal attack on KarlaJo was living with my ex sister-in-law Gigi.  If it were to be true it was for the best.  Gigi and her husband could offer a child a better life that I could or these parts of West Virginia ever could.

I always liked Gigi.  Never had a bad word to say about her.  We had met a few times, first when Ellie and I got married then again when KarlaJo was born.  Ellie was close with her sister Gigi.  Gigi could never have kids.  Some female problem of some sort.  Gigi would have been a great mother.  She was always patient with KarlaJo and a great sister to Ellie.  Gigi was really the only family Ellie had left besides me and KarlaJo.  After she kicked me out Ellie went to stay with Gigi for a time.  I was too busy drinking at the time and really didn’t care either when it was all happening.
So when I was rudely disturbed by that big city reporter I wasn’t interested in talking to him but I wanted to know more about him.  Michael answered a few questions about being an only child, his mother died many years ago and he was raised by relatives before stopping to say he was the reporter wanting to ask questions and did I have some time.  “Nope, too much to do.  Don’t care to talk to outsiders,” I replied.  I briskly walked away down the hill, round the corner, across the creek where I lost him in dense woods.  I knew more than he needed to hear.

Betty Jo

I lived a simple life.  My parents owned a small market that earned enough to get by.  Those in our hollar would stop by mostly for cigarettes and beer.  Momma didn't want to sell beer but Daddy said it was the only thing keepin us in business.

We farmed our land and sold corn, tomatoes, beans and a few other items from our hard work.  We ate more pinto beans and cornbread that I can't stand 'em to this day.  My Daddy worked us hard with no sympathy for age, strength or number of hour he made us work.  Everyone had a job.

My best friend Karla was different than me but we became easy friends at an early age.  Karla and I did everything together in our hollar.  We knew that hollar edge to edge.  Momma said Karla was invitin trouble.  I wasn't sure what she meant at the time.  Karla did like the boys, but bein friends with boys aint bad I didn't think.  Momma said bein friends gets girls pregnant.  Karla thought Momma was funny.

I met Mack Jr at the town dance.  Karla was besides herself when I refused to "have a little fun" with him at the dance.  I know what fun leads to.  Momma said it lead to babies and I wanted no part of it.  "Dancin don't lead to no babies", Mack Jr told me.  "I only want to dance with you."

So we danced.  And afterwards he persued me for years.  Momma didn't much like it but I thought he was nice. 

Kaylie Mae

Kaylie Mae always felt like an akward child.  She didn't have a lot of friends.  She was an only child.  As she grew older she believed her family to be disfunctional, but then again a lot of families in the hollar were odd.

Kaylie Mae's family owned a junk yard right in their front yard.  Her Dad believed it to be the largest "parts department" in all of Kanawha County.  Kaylie Mae could never understand if the junk was so important and profitable then why did they have to go to the Welfare Office dressed up once a month begging for help.

Kaylie Mae's goal growing up had always been to get far away from the hollar as she could get.  She studied hard, took all the right classes and always listened to her teachers.  Education in West Virginia typically ended at 14.  It's not as though kids dropped out, it's when the WV Education Association claimed students completed all necessary coursework.

The way out of the hollar was not to get pregnant.  That would not be a problem.  Kaylie Mae always knew she wasn't interested.  She felt it early on.  Instead she wanted to move to the big city, to New York City, where she would be a reporter.  She loved to read and she loved to write even more.  She believed herself to be a sort of investigator.

Writing was in her genes, in her blood.  Her Mom, Betty Jo, loved to write.  She always encouraged Kaylie Mae to be creative.  Betty Jo never criticized Kaylie Mae when snooping around for that big story.  Betty Jo believed it to be harmless.  Kaylie Mae believed she was onto something.

Getting started

Time to get serious at writing, rewriting, developing characters and making some money.  Or just having fun.  More to come.  Hope you enjoy.