Flowers for All Occasions

I spent nearly three hours at the KOC hall visiting with law enforcement officers from all over the upper Midwest and Plains. It was nearly 17:00 and there didn't seem to be much point in going home just to have to come back and pick up the boys from Clarissa's. And so I went back to the office and worked on a few items but didn't really get anything done. I just felt like I needed to be somewhere doing something.

Finally, about 18:30 I got in my truck and made my way over to the condo complex where Clarissa lived. I pretty much had to drag myself to her door and force myself to ring the bell, not because I didn't want to pick up the boys but because I just really didn't want to deal with Clarissa. But ring the bell I did and she answered. She was dressed in a light cream-colored mid-length one-piece form-fitting dress that seemed overly formal - and even a bit inappropriate given how closely it seemed to hug her figure.

The thing, or things, that stood out were sitting on her chest. Clarissa had always had a very trim and athletic figure. She was a good looking woman, make no mistake about it. I had never griped about that. One would never guess, however, that a black lump of coal beat inside her chest in the same spot that most people actually have a heart. Perhaps that lump of coal where her heart should have been was responsible for fueling the fire of insanity that seemed to have been lit where her brain should have been. Regardless, it wasn't my problem to worry about anymore, save for where my boys were concerned.

But while Clarissa had always been a very attractive woman, voluptuous was a word that no one had ever described her with; which made me wonder just exactly where the new pair of sweater kittens came from that now graced her upper torso. The entire time Clarissa and I had been married she had sported a set of A-cups that I never once complained about. They did their job adequately in nursing our kids and I had always paid them their proper and due respect every time I made love to her in the past.

Now, however, she was sporting what was clearly a set of enhanced "C's" or maybe even some low-end-of-the-scale "D's". I wondered whether her mother, Caroline and her extremely wealthy companion Martin Belmond, had paid for the "enhancements" or if Clarissa's on-again-off-again romantic interest, Tom Wellington, had ponied up for the chest pillows.

But against my efforts not to stare, I apparently glanced a bit too long as Clarissa answered the door and she noticed my extensive gaze, as evidenced by the half-smile half-smirk that crossed her face.

"Good evening, Patrick," she almost cooed.

"Hello, Clarissa. Are the boys ready to go?"

"They're just finishing supper," she said. "Have you eaten? I can fix you a plate before you go. Just some tater tot casserole, but the boys like it. Want some?"

"No, thank you. One thing about funerals is that there is no shortage of food and flowers."

"Well, the boys will be finished shortly," she said, turning away and obviously arching her shoulders back to push her new boobs out forward in full display. I just shook my head in disbelief. No matter how hard she would try, her tits were no match for Shannon's. And best of all, Shannon's were real!

I waited impatiently for the boys to finish eating and was becoming more and more agitated, especially since Clarissa wanted to engage in endless small talk the entire time. She was slowly sipping on a glass of wine and doing her best to try and look sexy while doing it. No matter how good she looked, she would never again hold any sexual interest for me; not after what she had done to butcher our marriage by fucking numerous other men while still married to me and planning to destroy my life at the same time by plotting a very lengthy prison sentence for me, as well.

"Come on boys, let's finish up already," I finally said, losing my cool.

"I want seconds before we leave," Nick said. "I love Mom's casserole."

"Come on, Nick, get your stuff. We're leaving. If you're still hungry when we get home, we've got plenty of stuff there to eat."

"Dad, Mom made a lot. Can't I just have some more before we go?"

"Nick, I'm warning you. Get your backpack and let's go. Your brother is ready to go and so am I. You can get something to eat when we get home, okay? I've had a very long and stressful day and I'm just ready to get home, okay?"

Nick stood there like I had run over his puppy. But I was getting irritated with him as he generally never challenged me. But he seemed to be getting more surly since he hit his teens.

"Come on, sweetie," Clarissa said. "I'll put some in a Tupperware container for you to take home."

"Okay," Nick said, dejected.

"Grab your stuff and you and Jake can head on out to the truck," I ordered.

Nick reluctantly did as I said but not before giving me a look of death in the process. For a brief moment, I was actually tempted to smack him but I held back. He took the container of casserole from his mother and stormed out of the condo, followed by Jake.

"Patrick," Clarissa said. "I understand you have had a horrible day and week. But the boys don't understand that. Whatever you're feeling right now, you don't have a right to take it out on them."

"Oh, give me a break, Clarissa! You knew damned good and well what time I was picking the boys up tonight. They should have been ready to go. But no, you were just feeding them as I was getting ready to pick them up."

"Yes, dinner was a bit late, but I wanted to actually spend some time with the boys and we lost track of time. I'm sorry, Patrick."

"Oh, please. I show up and you're wearing a form-hugging dress to show off your brand new tits, slowly sucking down a glass of wine and wanting me to have a glass with you, all the while you're dragging way past the time you're supposed to have them."

"What, you think I wore this to try and seduce you or something? Boy, do you have some ego!"

"Give it up, Clarissa! The only reason I even let the boys spend time here is out of the goodness of my heart and not because I have to. Keep this up and I'll enforce the actual terms of our divorce and you can see the boys every other weekend!"

I left Clarissa standing in her doorway, mouth nearly dropped to the floor, as I stormed off back to my truck. As Sheriff, I might have to put up with a lot of people's shit on a daily basis.

But I didn't have to put up with Clarissa's.

*****

With the funerals behind us I could finally start to focus on the wedding, which was coming up in only a couple of short weeks. There was still so damned much to do that I was almost dreading it. The church was reserved, we knew who was going to be participating in the wedding party and we knew where the reception and dance was going to be. Now came the part of figuring out all the minutiae that would tie everything together.

I decided to take a day off work and spend it with Shannon helping her get some of those things figured out. First of all we needed to get the flowers finalized. We were working with Cherbourg Floral who had a flower shop in the Red River Mall. Our local shopping mall isn't much to brag about and has had a lot of trouble keeping decent stores in there. Mostly, it was because so many people made the trip to Fargo and St Cloud to the bigger malls. But we felt it important to support a local business and the Cherbourgs had been in business for over 40 years.

A weird thing happened while we were in the store, though. A cold wave washed over me and it was all I could do to keep my hands from trembling. I started sweating and my heart began to feel like it was going to fly out of my chest as it was beating so fast and so hard. Worse, I also felt a range of emotions take hold of me; a combination of both fear and rage. There didn't seem to be an explanation for it. I excused myself from store and went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I was in there for almost ten minutes before I felt calm enough to return. I decided not to say anything about it to Shannon and would just claim an upset stomach if she asked.

We had just finished giving the final order to the florist and decided to grab a snack from Pretzelmaker. As we strolled through the mall, I saw someone who looked so familiar and, yet, so very different. The identity was confirmed - not by recognizing the person - but by recognizing who she was with. And that person was none other than my predecessor, former Mason County Sheriff William "Bud" Roberts. And the person he was with was his emaciated wife, Margolene Roberts.

I was shocked as I looked upon her. A smile crept over her face as she saw me. She had never been what I would call an obese woman but Margolene had never been tiny, either. She now looked so terribly thin and her cheeks appeared sunken in. She walked slowly, holding Bud's hand. Her skin was pale and almost ashen. The dead giveaway was the fact that she was wearing an immaculate silk bandana to wrap her head in. Margolene obviously had cancer.

"Patrick!" she exclaimed in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

"Margolene! What a surprise!"

She delicately reached out to me and took my hands as I leaned in and gave her a platonic kiss on the cheek.

"It is so good to see you, Patrick! It has been too long."

"Yes, it has. Yes, it has. Margolene? This is my fiancée, Shannon Sullivan. Shannon, this is Margolene and Bud Roberts."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Shannon said, shaking both their hands. I damned near felt the need to get an empty ice cream bucket to hold all the drool that Bud was slobbering as he ogled Shannon.

"She's your fiancée?" Margolene asked. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone, Patrick, let alone engaged. How marvelous! And I must say, you are absolutely gorgeous, Shannon!"

"Why, thank you!" Shannon blushed. Bud just stood there and gawked at her, which royally pissed me off.

"Uh, I don't mean to pry," I said, delicately, "but are you doing well, Margolene?"

"Ah, yes. The head wrap gives it away. I was diagnosed with breast cancer this past January. Sixteen weeks of chemo and radiation. But I'm determined to take Old Man Cancer the full fifteen rounds and give it all I've got," she said with false motivation.

"How far are you?" I asked, afraid to know.

"Well," Margolene said, hesitantly, "I was stage 3 when I was diagnosed and officially stage 4 by the time I finished my first round of chemo."

I was taken aback by her statement. Stage 4 following her chemotherapy could only mean one thing - her cancer was terminal.

Margolene could tell I was shocked by her admission that her cancer was so advanced. Meanwhile, Bud just stood there and said nothing. Worst of all, he acted like Margolene and I were just talking about the weather. It was obvious that he didn't give two shits about his wife's cancer.

"Margolene, I really don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, Patrick. We're not out of options yet and I don't intend to go quietly into the night," she said, reaching out and taking Bud's hand. Bud seemed to shake out of a daydream as he looked at Margolene and flashed her a politician's smile. "But please, Patrick. Tell me about the wedding. I don't think I ever received an invitation," she said, both hopeful and slightly hurt.

"Oh, gosh," Shannon said, coming to my rescue. "That's probably my fault. I'm the one who put the guest list together and I wonder if I just overlooked it. I'm so sorry. But here," she said, handing Margolene an invite from her purse. "I just happened to have one on me! I'm sorry it isn't personally addressed but, of course, you are cordially invited!"

"Oh, how wonderful! Wow, it's really getting close! Only a week from Saturday! But I think we are actually free that day! Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Well, we'll be so excited to have you both!"

I gave Shannon a look of 'what the hell?' But she just reached over and grabbed my hand as a sign of reassurance.

"Would you mind sitting with me for a while, Shannon? I'm a little tired and need to rest for a bit and I'd love to visit with you and get to know you a little better."

"I'd love to," Shannon replied. And the two of them sat down on a bench in front of the Walden's book store.

"I'm gonna go look at something in Sears real quick," I said. "I'll be back in about five minutes."

"Okay, babe," Shannon said.

I didn't really have anything to look at. I just needed to get out of the immediate vicinity of Bud Roberts and I knew that Shannon would be safe as long as she was in the company of Margolene. Plus, she knew all about Bud Roberts and Clarissa.

I was just doing some window shopping for some Craftsman tools when a familiar and unwanted form came up behind me.

"You decided to excuse yourself from the girl talk, too, huh?" Bud said.

"No, Bud. I just decided to change the scenery," I acidly replied.

"Fair enough," he said, downtrodden. "Look, Patrick, I know you don't owe me anything. I've accepted that. But I want you to know that I was sincere when I apologized to you about everything that happened. And now, with everything going on with Margolene, I realize more than ever what a fool I was and how badly I hurt my family."

"Really? I'm supposed to think you had some epiphany from God that made you see your evil ways?"

Bud looked at me for a bit. "I suppose I deserve that. And, no, it wasn't an epiphany. It took me a long time to get there and to admit to myself what I'd done and how I hurt so many people. And, in the process, I also hurt myself, too."

"Yeah, you looked really broke up about it at the time."

"Look, Patrick. I know I can't expect you to forgive me. But I've learned that I can't live the rest of my life waiting for people to forgive me, either. So, I've basically had to learn to forgive myself; to allow myself to be human and make a human mistake."

"Look at me, Bud," I said, moving face-to-face. "What you did was no mistake. You preyed upon my ex-wife. You took advantage of everything you knew about me and everything you knew about my ex-wife and you used that to manipulate me. You let me believe we had a friendship and a solid professional relationship. And you used both of those things to move in on my wife and my family and to generally plot my eventual destruction. Your plan involved framing me for a lot of shit I didn't do and to have me thrown in fucking jail, you self-centered prick! None of that was a mistake! It was all planned! So get over your damned self!"

Bud sighed and tried to look defeated. "I understand how you feel, Patrick. If I was in your shoes I would probably feel the same way. I just want you to know I'm sincere."

"You know what the problem is with insincere people, Bud? They always have to try and tell everyone how sincere they are. Because nobody believes them."

"Look, Patrick. My wife is...dying. I'm not dealing with it very well and I'm truly trying to come to grips with some of the decisions I've made in the past. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that the mother of my children is getting ready to transition from this life to the next. I'm going through a hard time, here."

I took a deep breath and faced away from Bud. "In deference to Margolene, a woman I have the utmost respect for, I'm going to cut you some slack. But don't think that this means we're friends. I'm only doing this for your wife and kids."

"Thank you, Patrick."

"How are your kids these days?" I asked, trying to change gears.

"They're fine, they're fine," Bud said. "Billy works as a software analyst for Harley-Davidson in Milwaukee. Absolutely loves it. Bruce works for IBM over in the Twin Cities. Abigail works in public relations for United Airlines, also in the Twin Cities, and Melissa is still going to the University of Minnesota with a major in mortuary science. God only knows where she picked up that interest but no doubt she'll have a job for life."

"I guess we never know how our kids will end up. We can only support them as best we can."

"Yeah, you got that right," Bud said. "So, uh, how are your boys doing these days?"

"They're good. Nick is in 8^th grade and has the attitude to prove it. Getting to the point where he's got it all figured out. But he's a good student and loves playing football. Jake is in 6^th grade. He's discovered he likes soccer more than football, which gets him a lot of crap from his brother."

"Ah, yes, soccer," Bud mused. "I've always liked Mike Ditka's philosophy about soccer. He said, 'if God wanted us to play soccer, he wouldn't have given us hands'", he chuckled.

I had to admit it was a good line. And for a brief moment it almost felt like Bud and I were friends again - the way we were before I found out he had been fucking my wife for over a year. But the elongated pause that took place told me that Bud was just dying to ask about Clarissa. I decided not to take the bait and, instead, just let him twist in the wind for a minute or so before he finally got the balls to ask.

"And their mom?" he finally asked.

"Clarissa? What about her?" I said, narrowing my eyes. Bud obviously didn't get the hint.

"She's, uh...she's good?" he asked, sheepishly.

"She's fine," I replied, tersely.

Bud just nodded, obviously realizing the danger of going much further. Truth is, I really didn't give a shit about him and Clarissa anymore. Or, at least I thought I didn't. But I did get a kick out of seeing him anguish over the fact that he couldn't have her and the fact that Clarissa really didn't want him anymore, even if she thought I didn't care if they were ever together again. But it was pretty damned distasteful that he was asking about his ex-lover while his long-time spouse with cancer was literally just yards away.

"I think it's time to end this conversation and get back to Shannon and Margolene," I said, turning to go.

"Right, right."

"Find anything interesting over there?" Shannon asked as I returned.

"Nothing we can't live without," I said, forcing a smile.

"So, I guess we'll see you a week from Saturday then! Oh, gosh, I just can't wait," Margolene said, ecstatically.

"It was so nice visiting and getting to know you," Shannon said. "It will be an honor for us to have you there!"

"Yes, it will," I added.

"I'll go get the car and pick you up at the entrance," Bud interjected. "I don't want you to have to walk that far."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Margolene said, squeezing his hand.

We visited a few more minutes with Margolene until Bud arrived with the car. She mentioned how she felt Bud wasn't taking her illness very well and how she thought he was in denial and she worried about how he would take care of himself after she was gone. It was tough hearing someone talk about the end of their life and the whole thing made me uncomfortable...and extremely angry. A lot of the old anger was resurfacing, especially because this woman loved Bud Roberts but had absolutely no clue about the depth of his betrayal to her...or me, for that matter. And I never had the guts or the heart to tell her.

Shannon took Margolene's arm and walked her the short distance to the front of the mall and helped her into Bud's vehicle. Bud, of course, didn't bother to get out and help, being the caring husband and all.

"I know how tough that was for you, Patrick," Shannon said. "But I also know how much you like Margolene and I can see why. She's one of the most genuine and caring people I've ever met. Something about her seems so real."

"She is," I replied, kissing her. "She reminds me a lot of you. You're right. She's the real deal. Besides having an affair with Clarissa, I just can't get over the fact that he would do something like that to Margolene."