The Night Will Only Know

Prologue - March 20, 1995

          Jonathan sat in his chair as he had been doing for the past six months, waiting, wishing for some life, some spark of interest, to come into his wife’s eyes. He stroked her freshly combed hair, feeling the silkiness, watching it shimmer when the light hit it and remembering when she used to brush it 200 strokes every night. This was now the nurse’s job if he wasn’t available, and Jonathan insisted it be done every night.
          It had been six months since he’d started coming here. The first six weeks spent by Valerie’s bedside in ICU after the fall. When she came out of here coma, the doctor’s felt she would be fine. Since that time, nothing had changed except that she was sitting up with eyes open instead of lying down. There was no reaction no response. Many types of specialists had been brought in with no answers for him. She was in some sort of deep subconscious shock. Nothing could be done unless someone could reach her. All who had tried so far had failed.
Ever since that day, that day of the fall, he’d wanted to grab and shake her. They were so close at one time. What had happened? Where did his wife go?

Chapter One-October 25, 1994

          Wendy Marshall sat at her vanity looking the mirror. The puffiness in her eyes and cheeks made her look like she’d spent the night crying. Unfortunately, the odor gave away the bottle of scotch she’d drank the night before waiting for Mike to get home. She wasn’t sure if she passed out before he got home or not. In fact, she wasn’t sure if he came home at all. If she asked the maid, Liza would cover for him and say he left early for the hospital. Wendy knew she couldn’t trust the hired help. They didn’t like her.
          Wendy knew where her husband was when he didn’t come home and it sure wasn’t at the hospital. Mike spent his time away in that South End trailer park with that little tramp. Wendy thought his infatuation would have ended by now. In 28 years of marriage, Wendy learned to just ignore the flings. Mike always came back. He kept her in the comfortable life she loved. Wendy loved her servants (or what they did for her), her garden parties, and charity work. She loved introducing herself as Wendy Marshall, the wife of the prominent neurosurgeon, Mike Marshall. Wendy had worked hard to get this far. The daughter of a middle class insurance salesman. She met Mike in college and realized that he was headed places. All she had to do was hang on for the ride. She did it well too. She kept a consummate house, raised her child with all the right stuff……

Chapter Two

          The alarm clock blared in Tom Olney’s ear. He looked over to the 10:00 a.m. staring back at him. Slamming the snooze button he laid there staring at the ceiling. What he wouldn’t give for a hot cup of coffee right now, but he knew Rachel had already been gone for hours and any coffee that was left would be ice cold. One day, he thought, he would get up with his wife and spend some quality time with her before she went to work. Their schedules didn’t seem to fit anymore. Rachel was a junior partner working very hard to advance her career. Tom owned a small bar and grill on the corner. Business was good, but it took a lot of personal time to keep it that way. “Things used to be so different” he thought.
          Tom spent a lot of time reminiscing. He liked remembering when things were simple. He was going to be an architect and Rachel was going to be a stay at home mom. After 13 years of marriage and two kids those plans seem like someone else’s life. Now they hardly ever saw each other. Hell, Rachel didn’t see anyone but clients or partners. “Well enough of ‘where’d the good times go.” He thought. Time to get some coffee in him and get to work. The grill did a good lunch business and his regulars would be waiting for the bar to open. Life could be worse, Rachel could be like those business men who spend most of their day in the bar on the “business lunches” and nearly have to be escorted to the bus/cab or car at the end of the day. Those people’s family life had to be
a lot less pleasant than his, or, maybe, they have just got a different way of coping

Chapter Three
          Jonathan and Valerie sat across the kitchen table enjoying their morning coffee before the hectic schedules took over. The peacefulness of the day usually lasted just long enough to get the first cigarette of the day smoked. Today Jonathan already had the bills laid out figuring out what had to be paid this week. Payday mornings were always like this. Lots of paper shuffling, not much conversation. Jonathan spent a lot of time worrying about money. The Edwards were working class poor, the politically correct term. Just enough money to keep food on the table, roof over their heads and some of the bills paid most of the time. Valerie’s student loans usually went for catch up and a splurge at Wal-Mart and the grocery store. So when payday came, it was Jonathan’s job to decide what needed to be paid and give the rest over to Val to handle the basics of food, clothes and treats for the kids.
          This day was no different than most every weekday at the Edward’s. At 7:30 Valerie would get up from her coffee, go down the hall and rouse the boys. She’d flip the light on and turn the alarm clock off (no man in this house ever heard the alarm clock). She’d start shouting “Time to get up. Jon shower. Nick brush your teeth.” The boys would groan, crawl out of bed and head off groggily to the bathroom. The morning routine was still Valerie’s. She rather enjoyed her morning ritual, it was the only “qualitytime” she had with her kids some days. With Valerie’s school schedule, Jonathan had taken over the most of the child rearing tasks like running with the children to music practice, ball games, etc. He sometimes thought he knew the soccer moms better than he knew his own wife. But this was the deal he had made