Lilies and Roses

Ok, here it is folks. I finally finished this saga. Hopefully I have filled in some of the holes from the first story. This is a work of fiction. A lot of things in life happen for no apparent reason. Was it really our choice or mere happenstance? The definitive question I must ask is 'Will it matter a hundred years from now when we are dead?' Usually the answer is 'no'. Judge for yourself. Oh, and please, before you comment would you take the time to read it again? Thanks to Patricia51 and HenryDavidThoreau for insightful comments and elucidation. Cheers.

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Megan's story

Chapter 1

The five o'clock whistle blew and the women moved to put away their tools and tidy the area. They all stood by their work areas as the matron moved among them, checking to see that all was in order. The matron yelled, "Clear!" The women moved to the wall in order, formed a line and waited for the matron to open the door. Upon opening, the women moved through in single file going down the corridor to the cafeteria where they stopped at the end of the line ahead of them and waited to get their trays.

The trays were stainless steel which had been formed into divided areas, no plates needed. Each portion went to its own section and was spooned on as the ladies went through the line. Each inmate picked up a glass of milk, juice, or coffee (warm) along with their plastic utensils, then moved to sit down and eat. Nobody said much. When they were finished, they moved to the line to leave.

Megan Johnson had the routine down pat. She'd been here since her sentencing after her trial. Hell, she wasn't even embarrassed any more in the open bay showers. Naked women moved in under the running water, soaped up, rinsed off, and went for a towel. They put on clean clothes and moved in a line back to their cells. She didn't think she would ever get used to the sound of that cell door slamming behind her. At least, she'd never cried out loud the way some of the other women did and some of them still do.

She'd been lucky, she realized, when she first came inside. She had been marched in with some other 'fresh meat' after being bussed to the prison. She had undergone the usual 'full body cavity search' with the others and had dressed in the utilitarian white underwear, pullover shirt, and pants with no pockets or belt.

When she was moved to her cell, she saw a young dark haired woman sitting on the upper bunk. They introduced themselves to each other. Megan and Linda were now cell mates. Contrary to the rumors she had heard about prison life, she hadn't seen any violence or heard about any gang rapes. That wasn't to say that she wouldn't later on, it just hadn't happened yet. There were a few books to read and stories to pass back and forth. Time moved slowly and she thought about where she'd been and what she had to look at for a future. Not much. She decided to keep a diary of her prison life, but after she received the writing materials, she changed her mind and decided to write about her past. Maybe she could figure out where she had gone wrong.

Chapter 1

Some of you are wondering what I was thinking when I threw away everything in my life that was important. My marriage of over 20 years to a hard working, faithful, and loving husband. The finest two children anyone would want. The esteem and respect of our neighbors and friends. Well, obviously, I wasn't thinking about any of that. I was thinking about myself. Now look at me. I'll be here in prison for probably the rest of my life. If they do let me out, it will be to move into a nursing home. I guess the best way to explain, no that's the wrong word; relate my story would be to start at the beginning.

I was born at an early age to Phyllis and Harold Phillips in Chicago. I was their only child. There were times when I wondered why they had me at all. Mother was an interior decorator and consultant, constantly on the move going far and wide to take care of her clients. Father was an architect with a prestigious firm and never went anywhere but work. Never since have I met anyone as conceited and narcissistic as either of my parents. They held grand parties where the alcohol would flow and caviar was as commonplace as peanuts are in a bar.

I remember the gowns. These weren't just dresses, these were special gowns. Most were private label designer gowns, designed to be worn once and then tossed on the heap going to a Goodwill box. All the clothes worn to my parents parties were haute couture, but I remember the gowns most of all. I also remember dreaming about the day when I would attend my parent's party in my own special gown.

When my big night arrived, I was in for a shock. Nobody appeared to care, except me. My gown was black, cut down to there and with a slit on the right side. I had my hair in an upsweep and my makeup had been meticulously applied. I entered the room alone after my parents had already 'arrived', but I wasn't noticed at all. Bummer. What does a girl have to do to be noticed around here? I hung around most of the night on the periphery, watching how people acted. I listened in on various conversations, but didn't join any. Who would want the observations of a barely eighteen year old naïf?

I went to private schools and had European vacations, but not with my parents. I never lacked for anything, well physical. I do think I was a little emotionally stunted since I hardly ever saw my parents together. It seems the older I got the more distanced they were. I don't think I ever rebelled. Oh, I might have, but it is hard to rebel when you don't know what to rebel against, you know?

Chapter 2

I decided to go to college, but didn't declare a major for a year while I tried various odds and ends classes. You know, Art Appreciation (basket weaving 101), Geology, Math and Physics (once and only once!), Sociology, Political Science, etc. I finally ended in Business Administration. I wasn't really scatterbrained and unsure; I was just wasting a lot of my parent's money. I mean they spent their time spending it, why shouldn't I?

Anyway, I met Ted Johnson in college. What a hunk with his dark eyes and dark hair and that slender build. It sent chills down my spine whenever I saw him on campus. After following him around and getting his schedule, I started arriving before or just after he did at various campus places. I suppose that could be called stalking these days, but I was only trying to be noticed. That is also how I ended up in Business Administration. Eventually, he finally noticed me and asked me out on a date.

Now, I had done the high school dating thing and I wasn't impressed at all. There were some make out sessions along with the (almost mandatory it seemed) groping in the car, but nobody ever got into my pants. Nobody did at all. Try that, buster, and just take me home! No more dates in the future, either. After all, a girl has to have standards.

That is, until Ted came along. I don't know what it was that separated him from the others, but I couldn't help myself. I checked his major and he was into business marketing. He tried to explain the various differences to me between sales and advertising and marketing, but he often just gave up when I gave him that blank stare.

I do remember him telling me about when his parents had died. They were in a small plane that went down in the Rockies someplace. He was still trying to recover from the devastation that the tragedy had visited upon him. That's why it took so long for him to notice me. He was still grief stricken and was just going through the motions at school. I like to think that I helped him recover a little bit. It was nice to feel needed.

It was shortly after he had told me about how his parents had died that he asked me to marry him. I was in my own heaven for the next few months.

We married almost immediately after graduation. And yes, I was still a virgin. I think he was a little experienced, but all I cared about was how tender and gentle he was with me.

Anyway, I did get to meet his grandparents, who turned out to be really neat people, before the wedding. Of course, my folks said they adored Ted. I wasn't so sure about that. We had gone to the house to meet them immediately after the engagement, but they seemed preoccupied for the entire evening. I still think after all this time that my parents didn't notice when I moved out of the house. I just wasn't that high up on their priority list.

I hadn't seen Ted throwing money around, but was rather frugal like most other college students. I presumed he was on some sort of scholarship or was living on loans. The money subject never came up.

Shortly before we got married, I remember one time when Ted and I were talking about the future and he wanted to bring up the past. He started to tell me about what he called the 'Johnson Family Tradition'. Then he started talking about his many great, great, grandparents and who married who, and I lost my concentration.

Now, I'm not some scatterbrain who can't focus on anything for more that 2 minutes. It just didn't seem to me to be that important at the time. I know I should have paid better attention. What can I say? I made a very large error in judgment, and that error was to not listen to my husband. I prefer to think that knowing about the blind trust and the heirlooms and so forth ahead of time wouldn't have affected my life all that much. Yes, I would have loved going to the society events in town wearing fancy gowns and not having to put off doing things because we didn't have enough money for them.

I loved Ted and wanted to be with him regardless of his financial circumstances. We did take family vacations and trips and had a very good time. I hope that I didn't harbor any resentment for going coach instead of first class. I certainly didn't consider myself a gold-digging bitch out to fleece him of his heritage. But, who knew? Would knowing about his wealth have changed what happened with Ron? I really don't know. I mean, here I am in prison because Ted mopped the floor with all of us. I guess I'll never know what would have happened otherwise, and now I have to live with that pain.

Sorry, I digress. But I couldn't keep track of a thing he was talking about, so I asked him to tell me about it later. I know, I know. Talk about stupid. But whenever he brought it up to tell me about it, I got cross eyed and stupid. I just couldn't listen to his family tree, even after his grandparents and his Aunt Rose all passed away. He didn't have any family left except for us, and I hurt him terribly by not listening to him and being there for him.

I did listen when he told me about his safe deposit boxes at the bank because I needed to know, but I never, not once ever, went to the bank to check out the boxes myself. As far as I was concerned, they were full of this Johnson family stuff and I didn't care!

Chapter 3

Life goes on, so they say. First we had Timmy and what a handful he was, let me tell you. He had croup for the first four or five months, every night about 8:30 and he would cry with it until at least 9:30 or sometimes until 10:00. Egad! And of course, we didn't have any family around us. My folks were in Chicago and his grandparents were in Los Angeles. We had a small circle of friends and acquaintances from Ted's work. I stayed home with Timmy.

We made it through, but I just knew I would never be caught up on sleep again. Silly me. About the time I thought things were getting better for us, along came Joan.

Wow! What a difference. The sweetest child you ever saw with her chubby cheeks, brown hair and eyes like Ted's. She was sleeping through the night by three months. As the kids got older and started school, I felt somewhat at a loss. I didn't really want to go to work and, after all while Ted's income wasn't the best, he supported us well.

It wasn't that I was unhappy with life. I just wanted to do other, different things. I'd read in the newspapers some of the things that various volunteer groups were doing around town, so I thought I would go volunteer when I had some free time. I ended up working with the Public Library, the local Museum, and Mercy Hospital. I thought I was happy. Hah!

If I was so damned happy, why am I now sitting in prison? That mealy mouthed, money grubbing, lying, manipulating piece of shit named Ron Clark, that's why.

We had raised the kids and they were both now in college. They wanted to be lawyers, only God knows why. I sure don't. The only lawyer I ever knew socially was Greg Howard. He and his wife Gretel moved to town a couple of years before from someplace in Texas. They were fun to be with and had kids who were just a little older than ours. That was how we met, a school function. We started going to each other's house on weekends to play cards. Later on when the kids were older, we started going out on Friday nights for a nice dinner and then dancing at clubs around town. It was a nice way to get out and do something different.

I think that we had started doing this as a means to try and stay connected to and with each other. I mean, Ted had his work and I had my committees and we had the kids. What we didn't have was a whole lot of each other. Yes, we still bounced ideas off each other and so forth, but I wasn't there with him and he wasn't there with me. We had lost the feeling we were sounding boards for each other. As time went by, the things we were talking about just didn't seem to register with the other, so we started talking about them with other people instead. The typical ennui in an overly comfortable existence where each partner was now taken for granted.

Of course the sex life also went almost kaput, falling in frequency as well as passion. It was now comfortable, occasional, and overlooked.

We'd try to spice it up now and again, especially now that the kids were gone, but even those occasions started to pale. We were too comfortable, too self satisfied, too wrapped up in ourselves and not each other.

An insect called an ant lion lays its eggs in a hole in the sand. The hole is at the bottom of a cone and is surrounded with very loose sand. A victim steps onto the sand and starts to slip downwards. The insect knows it must get away, so it valiantly starts struggling to go up. Of course we all know that said victim can only slide downwards on that slippery slope until it reaches its fate.

Chapter 4

It was a fund raising event for Mercy Hospital. They had one every year in the fall and this one was a carnival. I was on the organizing committee this year. It was hard work to make an event like this successful, especially since it was a fund raiser and that meant we couldn't spend any funds. Yes, I know the old axiom "You have to spend money to make money." That was the world of finance, not the world of fund raising events for a hospital. The money we raised went to pay the 'uncollectible' bills. Homeless and low income people need medical care too, but the hospital can't go on treating people without getting some reimbursement somewhere. Don't get me started on HMOs and the like. Yes, I just loved 'John Q'.

Before he left for work that morning, Ted told me that he would take me out to eat after I got home. We used to attend events like this as a family, but since I was on a committee I had to be there all day. The kids were both away at school, so it was only the two of us.

Anyway, there I was talking with some friends and a stranger came up to me and asked me if he could talk to me for a moment. I excused myself and we stepped off to the side.

I found myself checking him out. He wasn't bad looking, but I noticed his brown eyes were rather small. He had brown hair and wore a nice brown suit, and he was over 6 feet tall. It was nice looking up at his eyes since Ted and I are almost the same height. I had stopped wearing high heels because I didn't want to be taller than Ted, but I found myself thinking that I could wear heels next to this man and not feel self-conscious. Don't ask me why that thought occurred to me.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Mr. Clark, Ron Clark. I asked those people over there who put this event together and they directed me to you. I wanted to complement you on your efforts."

"Oh, well, hello, my name is Mrs. Johnson, Megan Johnson. Thank you for the complement. I try to do my best for the hospital."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. But, please! No false modesty here, you have done an amazingly good job. All of the exhibits flow seamlessly, donation areas are well marked but subtle. It takes an excellent organizational mind to place things just so. How long have you been working on these events? It must have been years to become this smooth and functional."

"Why, thank you. I have been working with three organizations here in town, and I have been doing so for almost ten years now. It just gets easier with practice," I gushed. This was getting to be a bit much for me. Something in his manner invited my responses and I found myself wanting his approval.

I mean, I knew that my efforts were appreciated at the hospital. Ted has often remarked on my ability to organize and manage, but this man was over the top. After lauding my praises longer than I should have let him, he said he had to leave for some business meeting.

Before he left, though, he asked where he could meet me the next day. He stated that he was the chairman of some upcoming charity event in Dallas and that he would really appreciate it if I could give him some ideas on how I accomplished the job. He also stated that he was leaving the next afternoon, so I suggested meeting for a lunch. He was staying at the Marriot Hotel and asked me to meet him there and then we could go someplace and talk. Sure. I fell for it. He left and I went back to the group. After Ted showed up, we went out as planned. I started to tell Ted about Mr. Clark, but he was going on about how good a job I did again this year, so I put it off until later. All these complements in one day overwhelmed me. Whew.

The next day, I was at the Marriott to meet Mr. Clark about 12:30. I asked for him at the desk and was told he was waiting for a phone call and had asked that I be sent to his room. I was hesitant about that. After all, I am a married woman and I wasn't real thrilled about going to some man's room at the Marriott. I told the clerk that I would wait for Mr. Clark in the lobby. The clerk nodded and pointed to some chairs where I could wait. About ten minutes later, Mr. Clark came into the lobby, looking around the room for me. He was dressed casually in a short sleeved shirt and brown slacks. I stood up and went to where he was standing. He had a frown on his face as I approached and I became somewhat nervous.

"I told the clerk to send you to my room when you arrived. You're still down here. So, what's the problem," he said rather abruptly.

I was taken aback at his tone of voice and became rather agitated. "Just wait a minute here, bub," I replied. "I'm not some chippie off the street and I don't go to men's hotel rooms just because someone said so. I'm here to meet for lunch and have a discussion. Going to your or anyone else's room is not part of that plan. Now, if you want to go to lunch, then let's go, otherwise I'm going back home."

He'd started turning red in the face when I stood up to him, but he managed to calm himself down with some effort. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I've been on the phone with my people and things are getting messed up. I shouldn't have taken my anger with them out on you. Of course, I want to take you to lunch. I really need your expertise to help control that fiasco. I didn't mean to offend you by my request; I was just busy and didn't consider your point of view on the matter."

"Ok, apology accepted," I said, "Shall we go eat now? I get grumpy when I'm hungry."