Affirmative Morality - Jeremy McHarry - E-Book

Affirmative Morality E-Book

Jeremy McHarry

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  • Herausgeber: Bentockiz
  • Kategorie: Krimi
  • Sprache: Englisch
  • Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Beschreibung

My spirits soared at the animated change, I didn’t know if it meant anything, but it was a definite improvement. Within ten minutes, he’d left the road behind and we were moving swiftly through thick forest. Even though I knew the area would be unlikely to dump his vehicle and go it on foot, he didn’t care about roads, his only concern was finding the straightest route. I followed unquestioningly. Daylight found us miles from familiar territory and I had to force him to stop so I could give us all a water break.

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Title Page

Affirmative Morality

Turning Point

Jeremy McHarry

Affirmative Morality / 2nd of series: Turning Point / By Jeremy McHarry

Published 2023 by Bentockiz

e-book Imprint: Uniochlors

e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden

e-book ISBN: 9789198834185

e-book editing: Athens, Greece

Cover Images created via AI art generators

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Introduction

Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.

It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.

This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.

This may be the start of something amazing!

Chapter One

I was determined to stay away from Allison after that. The fact that she was married brought me to my senses. I’d already been down that road, and wasn’t about to give a repeat performance.

Locking myself in the house, I allowed no one except Mrs. Maxwell, ironically Allison’s half-sister, anywhere near me, and that only because it was even more important than before that my regular routine continue in order not to arouse Fairchild’s suspicions.

Buckshot constantly whined to go out, but instead of allowing him into the yard alone, I put him on a leash and stood there with him while he did his business. I couldn’t risk allowing him to escape.

The pain in my heart paralyzed me. I’d finally found the only woman I could ever love, and she was not only married, but because of me there was a maniac out there who wanted her dead, although hopefully he didn’t realize it and never would.

Buckshot was fast becoming frantic in his desire to escape and it was all I could do to hold his leash when I led him out into the backyard...not to mention how hard it was to get him back inside the house afterwards.

Three days after Allison’s revelation about her husband, Buckshot finally succeeded in his bid for freedom; he jumped through a window...a closed one.

As I hurried out of the study, knife drawn, to investigate the sound of breaking glass in the living room, which I seldom used—I did most of my living in my study and basement—it was obvious from the shards scattered about on the ground outside that Buckshot was bleeding.

Desperate to catch him before he could reach his goal, I was out the front door as well as the front gate, Lady close on my heels, before I realized I hadn’t stopped for my hat, jacket, or sidearm...the only weapon on me was my knife. I paused temporarily in order to slide it back into its sheath in my boot; it would have to suffice.

Buckshot had to be stopped.

Lady took the lead, sniffing out his trail quickly, which of course led directly to Mrs. Maxwell’s house. We were still quite a distance from our destination when we heard Buckshot’s howl.

Cursing silently, I sped up and Lady, sensing my urgency, did the same.

As the house came into view, I noted thankfully that Buckshot was still outside the back door alternately wailing in a painfully loud manner while scratching furiously at the closed door and grabbing the doorknob between his teeth in an effort to open it, but nothing inside stirred.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the obviously empty house, I bent down and hooked the leash onto Buckshot’s harness just as the door opened.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Allison said, standing framed in the doorway, dressed in the same black skirt and thin blouse she’d worn on the plane when we’d first met. “Right after I got home from church, Buckshot showed up and began howling and scratching at the back door, but I didn’t know what to do. Sophia is sleeping, nothing wakes her, and Angelica is working and the kids aren’t here and I was too scared to open the door...” she trailed off apologetically glancing at the dog. “Oh no, he’s bleeding!”

“That is what happens when you jump through a glass window while it is still closed,” I replied, eyes on Buckshot desperate to avoid looking at her. “I shall drag him home and clean him up.”

“Please...bring him in. I know Angelica has a first aid kit you can use to...”

“No thanks,” I interrupted, realizing that it was all I could do to hold Buckshot as he yanked and pulled on the leash in a wild attempt to throw himself at Allison, “we should get back.”

“I...I’m sorry,” she faltered at my tone “I didn’t mean to...intrude. I was just trying to be helpful.”

Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes for a moment before shaking my head to clear it. Her presence affected me too much to be able to think lucidly.

“No, I am the one who should apologize...for my rudeness,” I replied as gently as I could. “You are very kind to offer, but I have no intention of abusing your hospitality. Buckshot would not be a very polite houseguest I fear.”

“But I want to help. What if it gets infected? I’d feel so badly...”

“It would be his own fault.”

And mine, I amended silently, realizing Buckshot probably sensed my own attachment to Allison, which of course would reinforce his. Even Lady watched Allison eagerly, ears pricked forward, hoping for a bit of attention.

“Please...I’d like to help...and maybe get to know your dogs a little bit...if that’s okay...?”

“You hate dogs.”

“I thought I did, because of a frightening experience I had when I was a child, but Lady’s so well-behaved and Buckshot is so...”

“Buckshot,” I finished for her.

She laughed and agreed, “He is certainly...enthusiastic...and...”

“And all over the place,” I supplied, “hence the name.”

“Makes perfect sense,” she agreed. “Please stay...I’d like to try to pet Buckshot again and maybe...if you don’t mind...even Lady...”

“Lady would truly enjoy that.”

Allison opened the door wider, and stepped back to allow me to manhandle Buckshot into the house.

“Lady, Fuss.”

“What’s ‘foose’?”

“The command to heel.”

“Forgive my ignorance...but what’s ‘heel’?” Allison asked as she moved to a cabinet and brought out a first aid kit.

“That simply means I want her to walk with me,” I elaborated. “So tell me about the childhood experience that inspired such horrendous fear of all canines.”

“I’m afraid you’ll laugh. Do you need anything else?” she asked as she handed me the kit.

“Would you happen to have an old but clean rag that I could use to mop up the worst of the blood? I am afraid it will have to be thrown away afterwards.”

“I’ll be right back,” she left and returned with a couple of freshly laundered socks full of holes.

“Interesting rags...”

“Angelica keeps Samuel’s worn-out socks to use for some things,” Allison laughed, “like cleaning up bloody dogs, of course.”

“Of course,” I repeated in amusement as I wet one of the socks in the sink, keeping a firm hold on Buckshot’s leash at the same time. “If I had known she was so easily pleased, I would have been saving my old socks instead of furnishing her with expensive cleaning equipment.”

“Don’t tell her I told you that,” Allison warned playfully. “She’ll kill me.”

Thankfully, I was bending over Buckshot, who was uncharacteristically still as I attempted to get rid of most of the blood so I could take a look at the cuts, and was therefore able to hide the odd mixture of pain and fear I was sure would be in my eyes at her carelessly uttered phrase.

“So...your dog story...?” I prompted, changing the subject.

“Could I pet Lady?” Allison asked instead.

“You are stalling.”

“Would she mind, do you think?”

“Is it that bad...?”

“My friend’s mother had a dog that was...less than friendly, and I tried to pet it once and it attacked me.”

“How old were you?”

“Five,” Allison admitted, embarrassed.

“I find nothing funny in that story,” I reproached her as I examined the wounds, noting with relief that there were just three deep cuts and only one that looked even remotely serious.

Buckshot was definitely a hardheaded dog...literally as well as figuratively speaking.

“The dog...she was a Chihuahua,” Allison finished in a rush, no doubt expecting me to find her statement ridiculous.

“Then it is no wonder you were attacked,” I commented. “Those dogs can be extremely vicious to anyone other than their owners. I personally would never own a Chihuahua for that reason. While they are very loyal to their masters...or mistresses...they are often antagonistic to everyone else and are definitely not a child’s dog.”

“But it was so little,” she knitted her brow, “and cute.”

“Did you know that Labrador retrievers are the most popular dogs in the US?” I asked as I applied an antibiotic ointment to Buckshot’s cuts. “Their temperaments make them a good choice for almost anyone, although I wouldn’t suggest a lab puppy for a family with small children because of the sheer size of the breed in combination with their tendency to be a bit...overly exuberant.”

“Is that what Buckshot is?”

“He is both overly exuberant and a yellow Labrador Retriever, or Lab as most people call them,” I elaborated. “An owner would have to work extremely hard to make one of these dogs into anything even remotely vicious.”

“That’s good to know,” Allison smiled in relief. “And Lady...?”

“Lady is a German Shepherd.”

“Are they popular, too?”

“Somewhere in the top five, but they need an extra firm hand, which doesn’t always happen, regrettably. Do you still want to pet her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“She enjoys a good scratching around the ears,” I suggested wickedly.

“I think I’ll settle for a pat on the head to start with.”

“Lady will like that.”

Allison squatted down next to me and, reaching out tentatively, placed her hand between Lady’s ears, resting it lightly for a few seconds before withdrawing it quickly. Lady never moved, but I could see she relished the attention.

Buckshot, however, was a different story. He’d been fairly still...for him...while I administered the first aid, but as soon as Allison touched Lady, he went totally nuts, straining against the leash and temporarily unbalancing me in his attempt to grab her attention for himself.

“Buckshot, Sitz!” I commanded, but Buckshot was beyond listening, which admittedly wasn’t unusual in the least, as he barreled into Allison knocking her onto the floor and enthusiastically licking her wherever he could find bare skin...mostly on her face and neck.