Garwood Village by Robert F. Clifton (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

“Did you like it Robert?”, asked Sharon.

“Doc's right. It's a great automobile. Did I like it? Sure. However, every time I was in it when he drove I felt as though I was in an antique parade”. Wallace replied.

“There aren't that many around here to have a parade”, said Doc.

“I'm not referring to the car. I'm talking about you”, said Wallace.

“You asshole. I'm going to miss you pal”, said Edwards.

“Same here Doc. I'm glad you finally found happiness with a great lady. I wish you both the best”, Wallace replied.

“Well, I never thought it would happen, but by marrying Manfred, I became an American citizen and he became an Australian. Nice having dual citizenship”, said Sharon.

“Particularly when the Australians had enough and throw his ass out of the country”, said Wallace.

“I understand that you gave up news reporting and intend now to be a writer. Is that so?”, asked Sharon changing the subject.

“Yes. English was my main course in college. My minor actually was journalism. I wrote some things in college to pay small bills and to buy things. I feel as though I can do it again”.

“And, just what do you intend to write?”, asked Doc.

“Magazine articles, a novel perhaps. Then, there is always the possibility of ghost writing for someone”, Mary answered.

Doc Edwards turned again to Robert. “And when are you going to get off of your lazy ass and go back to work? You've been nursing this hip wound far too long”.

“As a matter of fact I called headquarters today letting them know that I'll be in next week. It might be just light duty sitting behind the desk, but I'll be back where I belong”.

“How is your hip?”, asked Doc.

“Better, all better. No pain. No limp. My Doctor told me that down the road I might develop arthritis, but I'll worry about that when the time comes.”

“What about the other wound, the intestine?”, asked Sharon.

“No problems to speak of right now. In the beginning I had a problem swallowing because of the tube they ran down my nose, but after a special diet and Mary's cooking the problem went away”, Wallace answered.

Doc Edwards looked at his wristwatch. “It's getting late. We still have some packing to do. Then we have to get up early to meet the van that's taking us to the airport”, he said.

“I still don't know why you won't let me take you. I've got nothing else to do”.

“Sure, I'm going to trust my life and that of my wife to a guy recovering from a hip operation. I don't think so. So, Robert, it's time to say good by. Thanks for all the good memories, great fishing, great eating and drinking. Most of all, thanks for the great friendship”, said Edwards as he placed his arms around Wallace and hugged him.

“Hey, you know how I feel. Just enjoy life pal. Enjoy life. It's so short. Sharon, you take care of this ugly bastard”, said Robert.

“I will”, she said as she kissed him on the cheek. “You know you can always fly down to see us”, turning her attention to Mary.

“We'll see”, Mary replied.

After the Edwards left, Mary placed the used dishes in the dishwasher. Wallace walked into the bedroom, open the drawers holding his clothes and after retrieving his suitcases from the closet began packing. Mary heard him and walked softly and slowly into the room. “In a hurry to leave?”, she asked.

“Not in a hurry, but it's time for me to get back home and back to work”, he answered.

“Are you sure that you're well enough?”

“Yeah, me and the police surgeon”.

“You know I want you to stay”.

“I know, but I can't. You know the reason why”.

“Yes, I know, it's because you don't love me”.

“Here we go again”.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I should have known that this is the subject you constantly avoid. I'll leave and let you pack. Let me know when you're ready and I'll drive you home”.

“I can call a cab”.

“Tell you what Buster. I'll call one for you”, Mary responded in anger.

“ Listen, there's no way you can work with me around here constantly. I don't know much about writing, but I do know that there are periods of what they call writers block. With me here, all you would do is worry about me, worry if I'm sick, worry if I'm hungry, most of all worry about if I'm happy. Then, on top of it you would bring up the fact that you and I should be married, even after I've told you a thousand times why we shouldn't”.

“Same old story. Same old excuse. Don't bother to go any further. I've heard it all before. What's your favorite expression? Oh yes, Bullshit. And that's what you're giving me!”, she shouted as she stormed out of the room.

Wallace unlocked the front door to his condo, picked up his suitcase and walked in. The place looked the same. The wastepaper basket next to his desk was still full. Esmeralda hadn't been here to clean sine he was wounded. “Hey, maybe she was like the others, thinking I was going to die”, he thought to himself. He looked at what used to be white, painted walls, stained yellow now by nicotine from the smoke of thousands of cigarettes he had smoked as he had worked at his desk.

He carried his suitcase into the master bedroom and placed it on the floor. Then he went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and found nothing but an old dried up head of lettuce and a few onions. He reached for the telephone on the kitchen wall, looked at the number he had written in pencil, dialed the number and when whoever answered, he ordered a pepperoni pizza to be delivered.

Feeling uncomfortable Wallace walked into his combination den and living room. He took a seat in his favorite chair. “What's wrong with me?”, he asked himself mentally. He got up out of the chair and walked to his stereo. Maybe it was music he needed to feel better. At least it was something to do before the pizza arrived. He turned on the set, and looked through his record collection. Not finding anything that he was in the mood for, he switched from phonograph to radio, then walked back to his chair and sat again.

He pushed back the recliner laid back and closed his eyes. Laying there he heard Frank Sinatra sing, “A Day In The Life Of A Fool”. Wallace began to pay attention to the lyrics:

A day in the life of a fool.

A Sad and Lonely Day

I walk the Avenue and hope

I'll run into the welcome sight

of you coming my way

I stop just across from your door

But you're never home any more

So back to my room and there in the gloom

I cry tears of good by

That's the way it will be every day in the life of a fool

He laid there in the chair thinking. “What's my future? Where do I go from here? What do I do next? Same old shit over and over that's what you have to look forward to. Will you try to change things? Will you try to make life better getting more than satisfaction from your job or will you just sit on your ass and throw opportunity after opportunity to be happy out the window?”

“How many times did I have the chance to take a wife, to marry, to raise a family? First, there was Deborah. Deborah Roth. (*Azreal) Nice girl, smart. Educated, like Sharon, a psychologist . She talked marriage all the time. Hell, I made her move to Israel. Then there was Elaine Benson (*House On Timber Lane) a nice wealthy widow with a thriving real estate business. Mary Higgins (*House On Timber Lane) a registered nurse. She was great in the sack. Hell, I don't remember her actually saying the word marriage. She hinted at it though. Then came Miss Jane Chambers. (*Gifts From The Kasbah) Ah, Jane, the one I went ga ga over and she turned me down. Me, one the nicest guys in the world. Keep thinking that bullshit and you'll start believing it. I can't blame her. She is talented, smart and has a great job. Why give that up for a life of washing dishes, dirty diapers, socks and underwear. Then, along came Mary. She was just a kid when I met her. (*Azreal) She still looks like a kid, short, petite, small breasted, freckles on her nose and a page boy hair style. Her eyes fill up with tears when she's sad and they sparkle when she's happy. Hell, it seems that I'm the one that makes her sad most of the time. But, I must admit that I seem to be the one that makes her happy other times. The question arises, can I make her happy all the time?”

His thoughts were interrupted by his ringing telephone. He got up out of the chair and answered it. “Hello?”

“Captain, this is Ben the doorman. Did you order a pizza?”

“Yes I did”.

“Alright, I'll send him up”.

“Thank you Ben”.

Wallace paid the delivery man then carried the box of pizza into the kitchen where he laid it on the table. He filled a tall glass with ice cubes then filled the glass with warm Pepsi Cola out of a can. As he ate. His mind wandered again. “Why in the hell should you care what people think about you if you have a young wife? It's our life. Actually, now that I think of it, it's her life and the life she wants to live is one with me. Well, why not? Why not take her up on it? Both of us have laid the cards on the table many times. I know what she wants,and she knows what she's getting marrying me. There sure as hell can't be any more surprises”.

He ate two slices of the pizza, closed the box lid, then carried it to the refrigerator and placed it inside. Walking back to the living room he went to his desk and pulled open a drawer. Reaching inside he removed first a ring box and then the receipt that came with it the day he bought it. Opening the box he gazed at the engagement ring with the large diamond. He was surprised that he no longer felt any attachment either to the ring, or Jane Chambers (*Gifts From The Kasbah) After closing the box, he looked at the receipt seeing, $5,000.00. He then placed both back in the desk drawer.

The next morning Robert Wallace showered, dressed, drank a cup of coffee then called his office. He heard, “Major Crime Squad, Sergeant Stiles”.

“Frank? Captain Wallace”, said Robert

“Yes sir. How are you?”

“Fine, listen, I'm do in a nine this morning, but I have to run an errand. Cover for me until I get there”.

“Yes sir, no problem”.

“And Frank is Myers still drinking tea and eating crumpets?”

“Yeah, the last time I looked”.

“OK. Tell the gang the Captain is bringing in breakfast”.

“Will do. We're all glad your back sir”.

“Thank you”.

Robert Wallace parked his car in front of Koon's Jewelry Store got out and walked inside. He heard the buzzer working, signaling that someone had entered. As he walked towards the counter Wallace saw Harry Koons coming out of the back room. Harry smiled as he greeted Wallace. “Damn Robert, it's good to see you. How are you feeling? I read in the papers that you got shot”.

“Yeah I sure as hell did”.

“And, now you're OK?”

“So they tell me”.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

Wallace handed Harry the ring and the receipt. “This is the ring I bought from you some time ago. It was