Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Love In The Cross Hairs Ch. 03 free porn video
Peter’s first reaction was disbelief. He spoke again, ‘Laurie?’
Laurie had her back to the ocean, a stiff cold land breeze was in her face. More wind than breeze, it smacked her in the face, it swept her breath away, through a hacking cough she rasped, ‘Peter?’
Peter sort of recognized the voice. It sounded a lot like Laurie’s, only it was caught up in some grating hoarse shallow whisper. Could it be her, really her? His face was to the first grey warnings of the sunrise, hers trapped n the shadows, it was impossible to make out who the woman was. He asked again, ‘Laurie is that you?’
From where Laurie stood, though the man’s face was wrapped in a thick woolen scarf, she could tell who it was. She started to repeat his name but the wind chased her voice back down her throat. She was only able to release another scratchy wheeze, ‘Peter.’
He knew it was her all right. Laurie Stanton, influential blue blood, co-conspirator in the plot to steal his company and wipe him out, here she was, right here on the beach, right where he was, at the exact same spot at precisely the same time. This was too good to be true. Somehow the rich bitch had found out where he was. She’d tracked him down. What, she wasn’t satisfied she’d ruined his life, broken his heart, literally run him out of town? Now she was here. To do what, finish him off, deliver the coup De grace?
Totally out of character Peter erupted, ‘You bitch! You low down, cold blooded, reptilian bitch!’
Laurie heard some of what he said. She heard the anger, but she couldn’t precisely make out the words. She gasped out, ‘Peter…I’ That was all she could say. Between the wind and the tightness in her chest she was stopped. Her response dissolved in a bone chilling cough.
To call what Laurie emitted a cough was a gross exaggeration, it was more like an explosion, a convulsive expulsion of yellow green phlegm accompanied by a deep low throat tearing moan, a viscerally repugnant raw scraping rasp akin to fingernails on a chalkboard, a hacking whistling wheeze, a short hoarse gasp for air. It was as if, vomiting into her lungs, she was drowning in front of him, struggling for that last dram of breath. Her attempt to get out her words, any words resulted only in a whistling rattling dry echo, a raw desperate attempt to breathe, to keep from choking.
Peter was angry, infuriated, but even through his fury he gathered something was wrong. The sun had broken through. Her visage was still as clouded as the darkness of her outer apparel, but he knew she was sick. In spite of himself, in spite of his desire to lash out and do the unconscionable and hit a woman, he stepped forward. He reached out his arms and grabbed her by the shoulders.
He shook her, ‘What are you doing here?’
Laurie felt so weak, so fragile, the wind, the cold, ‘Peter I…’ Nothing more came out, only more coughing.
His anger was gone, it died the moment he’d touched her. She was sick! He pulled her closer and felt her forehead with his hand. She was afire! She was like some wispy hollow reed about to snap, victim of the harsh wind and the piteous cold. He bent forward and lifted her, ‘Laurie you’re sick!’
She tried to reach out, to touch him with her arms, she just lacked the strength, ‘Peter I’m…’ No additional words were forthcoming. Even wrapped in his arms she doubled over, convulsed with a second battery of dry deep barking whoops, heaving honks that betrayed a deeply entrenched inflammation.
The sun was up. He could see her face clearly. It was scarlet, and not from the sun or the wind. He briefly touched her face again. It was dry and hot, the kind of dry heat associated with a high fever. She was desperately ill.
She made another attempt to speak.
He shouted down at her, ‘Shut up!’
He turned and strode westward across the sandy beach. He was apoplectic, intensely furious, wrathful, but mostly scared! The further he walked, or rather struggled across the soft sand, the more he felt the heat emanating from the helpless girl so tightly swaddled in his arms. Peter’s anger found new direction, it turned toward the sand, the distance, the wind, the cold. The further he walked the more rapidly his anger with her dissipated. That anger, that justified self-righteous fury he knew was his by all that was right and good evaporated, it was melted away by the heat from the small torrid body he carried.
By the time he reached the boardwalk, though it had been only a few seconds, his ire had floundered on the rocks of fright, fright turned to fear, then to terror. People who angered him, those who betrayed him, who were deceitful weren’t supposed to get sick. They were supposed to be impervious to pain, incapable of suffering, always hale and hearty.
He couldn’t hate, couldn’t despise someone in need of help, his help, that wasn’t in his nature, and at that moment no one needed his help more desperately than she did.
He ran to his truck. Holding her tightly in one arm he fumbled around and found his keys. There was a first aid building about three blocks up the main highway. He knew it would be open, this time of day it was mostly the habitue of drunks and over indulgent drug addicts. This morning they’d handle a real emergency!
Laurie was partially alert, ‘Peter I want to tell you…’
He wasn’t interested, ‘I said shut up. You’re sick.’
‘I’m sorr…’
‘I said shut up.’
She shut up.
He got her in, buckled her seat, flew around, jumped in his side, turned on the ignition and peeled out. With total disregard for traffic lights and pedestrian warnings he swerved and sped as fast as his old truck would allow. He’d completely forgotten past injustices, this was Laurie, and she needed a hero. She needed him.
First aid station in sight, he veered off the main drag, jumped the low concrete median strip and pulled to a stop at the front door. Out of his truck, around to her side, he unfastened her safety buckle, lifted her and, kicking the front door of the aid station open carried her through to the Triage desk. He shouted at some half somnolent older woman staring passively at a computer screen, ‘She’s sick! Get the doctor!’
The older woman groggily looked up, ‘Insurance? Identification?’
He placed Laurie in a wheel chair. In the clear light of the clinic she looked frightful, piteous. It frightened him even more. He pulled open his wallet, found a credit card, and threw it on the counter, ‘A doctor! We need a doctor! Can’t you see she’s sick?’
From the back a young looking woman emerged, ‘I’m the nurse on duty. Can I help?’
Peter, glad to get anyone, said, ‘This lady, my girlfriend is sick.’
The nurse told him, ‘We’ll take care of her. Can you tell us what’s wrong, who she is? Does she have any insurance, allergies?’
‘I’ve got money. She’s allergic to bees. She’s burning up with fever. Do something!’
By then another young woman, more a girl than woman appeared.
The nurse turned to her, ‘Let’s get her in the back.’ She looked at Peter, ‘Calm down. She’ll be all right now. Care to wait outside?’
‘No, I’m going in with her.’
The nurse smiled, ‘All right.’ She started for the door that led to the back.
The older woman, the receptionist started to say something, but the nurse touched her arm, ‘It’s OK. Call Doctor White.’
The receptionist gave Peter a quizzical look.
He grinned a little sheepishly, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t steal anything.’
The receptionist turned away, and started to type the girl’s name into the computer. In seconds she had the girl’s medical background and family up on her screen. The Stanton’s were at least as well known in this small ocean side town as they were back at home. She picked up the telephone and made two calls.
++++++++++++
Back inside the aid station the nurse was quick to make a diagnosis. She’d also noticed the
diamond, though on the wrong hand, she inferred what she thought it meant. She turned to Peter, ‘Your fiancé might have a bad case of bronchitis, though it could be pneumonia. I’m going to take a little blood, and do an X-ray, but I’ll need someone to sign off on this.’
‘I’ll sign.’ He gave no indication nor did he say anything to dissuade her of her mistake about his relationship with Laurie.
The younger girl produced some paperwork, and he signed off on it. He strongly suspected anything he signed was probably either illegal or would have no bearing on anything, but he didn’t care if they didn’t.
He waited in the room they’d taken her while they rolled her off for the X-Ray. Shortly, the nurse came back with some results from the blood work. She nurse said, ‘I’m sorry, the blood work probably wasn’t needed. I just wanted to make sure of a few things.’
‘What’s that,’ Peter asked?
‘We doubt she has hepatitis or anything, but, of course, you know she’s pregnant, and I thought she might have pneumonia.’
Peter had no clue about pregnancy, but he didn’t let on, ‘If she has pneumonia she’ll need medicine, ‘That won’t…’
The nurse smiled and interrupted, ‘It won’t hurt the baby, and if you’re worried about the X-Ray that won’t either. However, antibiotics could weaken,’ She looked down at the chart, ‘Laurie’s immune system. She could suffer some side effects.’
Peter started to shake slightly. Laurie was down here, with him, with pneumonia, and pregnant. He wondered if she was with anyone else. Should he call someone? Her parents will want to know. They might even be here with her. He should call them.
While Peter was pondering what he should do, the nurse had been on the phone with one of the town doctors. The physician she’d called was an older man, and their main contact there at the aid station. His advice had been to keep her at the station for the day, pump her full of antibiotics, water, and Tylenol till they stabilized her temperature. He told her he’d be down later to look her over. If her temperature hadn’t gone any higher, and they had a good warm place nearby she could go home later that evening or better still, the next morning.
The nurse reported to Peter what she’d done plus more, ‘Her fever is a little over 103. She does have pneumonia, but it looks like Streptococcus, the most common and most easily treated kind. The doctor will be in later this afternoon, he might want her to stay over one night.’
Peter checked his watched. It was after 9:00 a.m., and he was exhausted, ‘Is there a place I can stretch out for a while?’
The nurse gave him a thoughtful look. Normally anything like that would be out of the question. But it was January, the place was empty and would most likely see little activity, ‘You should go home.’
‘I’d like to stay. I mean in case she wakes up and needs somebody.’
The nurse looked around, ‘I guess we could find you a cot. We’ll put you up in a storage area off from the waiting room.’
Peter thanked her.
++++++++++
Further west, in a city across the bay the phone rang. Mrs. Stanton picked it up, ‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Stanton, Aurora Stanton?’
‘This is she.’
‘You have a daughter, Laurie?’
Mrs. Stanton sat up in bed, ‘Yes.’
‘I’m calling from Ocean City. A young man just brought your daughter into our clinic. She’s feverish and has pneumonia.’
Aurora was on the side of the bed, ‘Where are you? What street?’
The reception shared the information she was asked.
Aurora turned and poked her still somnolent husband. He rolled over. She said, ‘Wake up. Laurie’s sick, pneumonia, and she’s with some stranger.’
Mr. Stanton was awake and already out of bed, ‘Where is she?’
Aurora told him.
He yanked the phone from her hand, closed the receiver and reopened it. He called the airport. He checked his watch, forty minutes to the airport, another forty in flight, he’d be at her bedside inside three hours. He got the assistant where his plane was stabled, ‘This is Carroll Stanton. Get my plane ready, and clear a line for me to the Ocean City airport. I want to leave within the hour.’ He hung up.
Aurora lay in bed and watched her husband as he drew a quick shower, dried off, and started to slip into some clothes, ‘What are you going to do, go down and fetch her home?’
Carroll slipped into a pair of BVD’s, khaki slacks, and then pulled over a yellow rugby shirt, ‘She’s gotten herself into something, and I intend to find out what it is.’
‘You bringing her home?’
‘I don’t know, probably. I told her she could stay there. I’d hate to go back on my word, but sometimes I don’t think she’s that responsible.’
Aurora sat up, ‘You knew where she’s been all this time?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You didn’t tell me?’
‘She made me promise.’
‘Promise what?’
‘Not to tell you.’
By then Aurora was out of bed and pulling on a pair of expensive designer sweat pants, ‘I’m going too.’
Carroll looked over and grimaced, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘I don’t care what you’d rather. I’m finding out what goes on down there.’
Now Carroll was interested, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Some man was responsible for her being sick, it was a man who took her to the clinic.’
Carroll thought, ‘the plot thickens’, ‘Well hurry up if you’re going. I’m leaving with or without you.’
Aurora already had her sweat suit on, and was slipping into a waist length fur coat, ‘Come on, I’m ready.’
Together Aurora and Carroll, two concerned parents, hurriedly walked to they’re waiting limousine.
Carroll stood by while the still groggy chauffeur held the door for Aurora. As Carroll got in he said, ‘Thought I’d let Jarvis drive, that way I can recheck with both airports and make a call to the clinic.’
Aurora, having already slipped in and over said nothing. Carroll slipped in, Jarvis started the car, and they pulled away.
++++++++++++
Peter tried to get some shut eye, but he was over tired and stressed. After several fitful attempts to get comfortable he sat up. There was a Dunkin Donuts just up the street. He got up, pulled on his overalls, slipped on his work boots, tied them off, found his hat and heavy coat and left the clinic. He figured he’d be gone just long enough to grab a coffee and a doughnut. Maybe that would calm him down enough to clear his muddled mind. He doubted if he’d get any sleep, he had a lot of thinking to do.
He found the Doughnut Shop and went in. He walked over to the counter, pulled out his wallet and asked for a coffee and a plain doughnut.
The man at the counter wasn’t natural born. Probably from Pakistan Peter figured. He pointed to the coffee, ‘I’ll have a coffee with cream, no sugar, and I’d like one of those.’ He pointed to the plain doughnuts.
The man behind the counter was holding down the inside shop plus a drive through window. Though it was late in the morning, there was still a pretty brisk business.
The man at the counter got the doughnut, slipped it into a small bag and turned to the coffee, ‘Coffee, cream and sugar.’
Peter tried to stop him, ‘No, no sugar.’ He watched as the man poured the coffee and then plopped in two, then three scoops of sugar. ‘Crap’, he thought, ‘and they have good coffee too.’
He picked up his change and took the over sweetened coffee and plain doughnut to one of the two small tables inside the shop. He bit into the doughnut, it was stale.
He looked around, he remembered not many years ago the Dunkin Donut Corporation was largely locally owned franchises where they made the doughnuts on site. He scanned the place he was in. It was clean, but sterile. He couldn’t say too much about the seaside doughnut shops, but he remembered the ones back in the city. They were usually owned by some old Jewish couple. The man did the cooking
, and the woman probably handled the books. They cooked fresh every three hours or so, and local kids filled in during the busiest times.
They used to bury the donuts in glaze or icing. Cream filled donuts were a meal in themselves. Everything was thick and rich, and always there were six or seven tables fitted out with chess or backgammon boards. It was commonplace to walk in and see a half dozen men sitting around a chess match, all swilling coffee and gobbling up the pastry. Whatever those old Jews lost in better product, they more than made up in patronage and goodwill.
Jeez he missed that. His country had become so dried up, cold, all for the quick buck, all the ambiance was gone. He didn’t blame the Pakistani or whatever he was, he never knew. But something good, something wholesome had died.
Peter finished his coffee, wiped off the table, and left. It was time to get back to the clinic and think.
++++++++++++
Carroll and Aurora made it to the airport, checked out their private plane, got the appropriate directions and took off. The weather, though icy cold, was otherwise good. They expected to be at the ocean side airport within forty minutes. Neither said much. They were both lost in their own thoughts.
Carroll half guessed who the man who’d taken Laurie to the clinic was. He knew he’d skipped out of the city, he just wasn’t sure where he landed. Laurie must have found him, and they’d renewed their relationship.
Carroll had paid for a thorough investigation into Peter’s background. The kid, man really, was thirty-one. His mother was sixteen when she’d gotten pregnant. She’d married some guy, not the one who’d knocked her up, and then had dropped out of school. He found no trace of Peter’s biological father, only the man who ended up in prison.
Apparently the man Peter’s mom had married was never able to handle the fact his oldest child wasn’t really his. They’d had a second child, Peter’s sister, a couple years later. Somewhere along the way he started to abuse Peter’s mother. She was over eighteen so her records hadn’t been sequestered.
She’d had a pretty rough time. Eventually she ended up at the House of Ruth, a halfway house for battered women, but like most women in that situation, she took responsibility for his brutality. From then on when she wasn’t ensconced in some safe house she was in and out of the hospital. Finally it got so bad a neighbor called the police. They probably saved her life. He was arrested and charged with attempted murder. Since it had left the realm of being a domestic dispute she couldn’t cover for him. He was found guilty and given a stiff sentence. When he got out the state slapped him with a restraining order. He tried to go back once, but someone saw him, and the police picked him up again. After that he disappeared for another year until his body was found somewhere out west, Kansas City the report read.
Peter’s mom had been a welfare cheat, or at least technically she was. She got welfare for herself, and social security checks for each of her children as long as they were under age. The money must not have been enough. She found ways to supplement her income. She got an older lady to watch her kids while she worked at bars for tips, and probably for the occasional outside sexual favor.
Carroll sort of knew what those sexual favors would have been, probably leaning into an open car door while four or five guys stood around and watched and laughed. He remembered when he was in college doing exactly that. It never occurred to him then the women they used had lives, that they were human beings. He did remember some things about those women, he remembered the phony smiles, the pretense at fun. It must have been awful for them.
In spite of all that he saw from the report she somehow managed to get her GED, and about the time the daughter reached high school she was ready to find a real job. It wasn’t much, someone at the House of Ruth helped her get a teller’s job at a bank. She must have worked her tail off because she was an assistant branch manager when the economy went south in 2008. That was the end of that. She scrounged around until she found something at a grocery store, a Super Fresh or something. They went belly up too, and she landed something at another food store cutting lunch-meat at the deli counter. That’s where she worked now.
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