Chapter 2

I started my car and pulled out of my driveway onto the street. Headed towards the freeway to get to work. After a short commute on the freeway, I arrived at my destination and quickly found a spot in our vast parking lot. I walked to the building after grabbing my purse and lunch; I could hear my heels clicking on the ground as I briskly walked to the building. Wishing I could enjoy the nice summery weather; a trip to the lake would be nice; I thought to myself. I had not gone since Brad’s death. I just did not feel right going without him as that was always our place for relaxation and transformation. We would go to have fun and be together, fishing or just sitting by the lake and talking. I felt an aching in my heart for the man I missed and loved so much. I arrived at the front door of the building and walked in, anxious to begin my day.

I greeted the receptionist with a hearty smile, “Hello,” I said as I walked by towards the elevators.

There was a memorial picture of the security guard on the door to the elevator. "Oh my," I said as I walked up and stared at the picture of the man. This poor man had died trying to help me get away that psycho from my car. Tears rolled down my face as I stood there looking at his picture. The family was asking for donations for his funeral. I would definitely need to call and ask what they needed to help out. I took out my phone and took a picture to call the wife to ask her how I could help.

My office is on the fourth floor; I promptly pushed the button in the elevator and rode up, listening to the soft classical music playing in the elevator, watching the floors tick by as they lit up above the door. My department is located on the backside of the fourth floor. I walked by the accounting department and the human resources department, which are both decorated in drab earth tones of tans and grays. As soon as you arrive in the graphic arts department you are assaulted by the colors; there are flyers hanging on the walls, and the individuals that occupied them transform grays of the cubicles into a plethora of bright, bold colors. Everywhere you looked, there are pictures and displays of decorations to animate the area into one of fun and excitement.

I entered my office that was also decorated with bright bold colors; bright swashes of color are painted across the walls to detract from the drab tans it was originally painted. I set my purse down on my desk and looked at the messages and information that needs to be handled within my inbox.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the picture. Dialing the number I waited patiently until I heard a muffled "Hello" on the other end.

"Hi this is Vivienne Layley, I work in the building where your husband was a security guard, I would like to help pay for anything that you need for the funeral," I said.

"Oh Ms. Layley I heard that my husband was a hero trying to help you, the mayor has called and wants to honor him for his heroic effort in giving his life trying to save yours," the security guards wife said.

"I would be happy to pay for the funeral and any expenses associated with his death, I am so sincerely sorry for the pain and grief that this has caused and I am so grateful to your husband," I said with tears in my eyes.

"Okay, thank you so much, all arrangements are taking place through Brown's Funeral home, you can call and speak to the secretary and she can assist you," the wife said.

"Okay, I am so sorry for your loss, please call here if you need anything," I said before hanging up.

I called my assistant Jen into my office, "Can you please make arrangements with Brown's Funeral home to take care of all expenses for the security guards family. Also find out if he had any children and set up a trust for each with 10,000 dollars for future needs and wire another 10,000 to his wife for anything she might need. It's the least I can do after that man saved my life," I said.

My days are filled with ensuring the art department runs smoothly and all clients’ requirements are taken care of. Typically, this involves client meetings as well as department meetings with my staff to determine who can take on a project or who is right for a particular client’s requests. By the end of the day, I am exhausted from dealing with individuals and just want to relax at home. Today is much different as I am meeting several clients for dinner and drinks after work.

I screamed out and beat my fists against the wall. Why oh why did he have to be gone? I cried into the night. I ran my fingers through my mess of dark brown hair. I hadn’t combed my hair in days. When was the last time I showered, I thought to myself as I cried on the floor of our bedroom? It had been six months since I lost the love of my life.

We had met on a beautiful summery day. Sitting in a lawn chair by the lake enjoying the afternoon sun, reading a trashy romance novel, when this man came running by, asking,

“Can you help me with something really quick?” I nodded looking up at him.

Before I could get out of the lawn chair, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He all but ran dragging me to the edge of the dock. We both peered over the edge of the dock, and I saw a large bundle of fur wrapped up in what looked like rope. I took a closer look and gasped; it was a dog, a big brown furry dog.

“I saw him float out from underneath the dock all tied up like that, but he won’t let me get near him to untie the rope! Would you mind keeping him occupied while I jump in the water and untie him?” he asked me, finally releasing my hand.

I felt a strange sense of longing and wanted to hold his hand again. I pushed aside my thoughts and focused on calling to the dog to get its attention. He jumped into the water further away from the dog, as the dog was focused upon me, he waded slowly through the water to the dog. He got to the dog and slowly started to unwrap the rope; the dog whimpered but did not try to get away this time.

He spoke calmly, telling the dog that everything would be ok, as I distracted the dog by telling him what a good swimmer he was and generally talking in a soothing voice, to a dog no less! He got the dog unwrapped from the rope and then the dog was licking his face and swimming all around him, wagging his tail. The man waded out of the water as I walked down the dock to meet him at the water’s edge.

“Hi, I’m Brad thanks for helping me with that. I felt so bad for that dog,” he stated, gazing up at me as he bent down to pet the dog on the head.

“No problem, glad to help, I’m Vivienne.” I smiled at him, extending my hand.

He stood up and took my hand in his, our fingertips touched, and I felt a jolt of energy, an electrical magnetism drawing me closer to him. I felt a rush of emotions, an attraction, lust, and desire for this man. I do not know if it was his soft touch on my hand or the fact that I had just assisted him in rescuing a dog; I could sense he had a warm, giving heart.

Our fingertips lingered, as we held hands briefly, continuing to gaze into one another’s eyes. That was the beginning of our beautiful friendship, built upon a love that could last ages, or so I had imagined. We spent many days and nights together after that first meeting at the lake. About six months after our courtship began, he proposed to me at the same lake, upon the dock where we originally met and saved the dog.

Six months later my dad walked me down the aisle to spend the rest of my life with the man of my dreams! It was such a happy day, and we were married for just over a year when he was killed in the accident. We had worked hard to build a home over that year, and he worked on succeeding in his career as a corporate accountant, spending long hours at the office, but he always spent his weekends with me working on the house together or spending time at the lake.

I finished dressing for work reminiscing about our first-time meeting, as I wandered out of my bedroom and downstairs to the living room. I flipped on the news so I could quickly catch the weather before I headed out to my job as CEO of a large graphic design firm. I spend my days creating artwork for commercials, signs for companies, and general flyers or miscellaneous art works for companies. My passion is creating elegance in the form of paintings and works of art, not commercially prepared corporate flyers for company picnics or to notify customers of an upcoming sale.

It is a career and it allows me to be somewhat creative, which sometimes I must stifle in order to give the client what they are requesting. I headed into the kitchen after hearing the good news that it would be in the upper 70’s today, a beautiful June day in Minnesota. I live in a suburb of a major metropolitan area. It is a nice break from the hustle and bustle of city living but allows me the opportunity to head into the city for dinner, to catch an art showing, or a theatre production.

I live only a 15-minute drive from work, which is actually about a 5-mile commute. When it is nice, and I do not have meetings with clients for which I need to wear a skirt and heels I ride my bike to work for a change of pace.

Today I have a client meeting, so I am dressed in a simple long black skirt, black pumps, nylons, and a beautiful purple blouse that goes great with my dark brown curly hair. I grabbed an apple and a yogurt from the fridge and my purse, and then headed into the living room to shut off the television as the reporter gave a report on the state of the economy.

I locked the door behind me and headed out to my car, a simple white Ford Focus. It is a reliable car, not flashy, but then I do not need flashy; all I want is a dependable car, and I want it to start in the cold winters of Minnesota.

Brad always liked a flashy car. That said, I am in control of my own destiny; he always called his Mustang, his "stroke me" car.

“A man needs a 'stroke me' car,” he would always say to me before he got his Mustang. The Mustang is parked in the garage, and I have not driven it. The day he came home after I told him he could get the car provided my fondest memory of our lovemaking. I will never forget that day, it was so exciting and out of the ordinary. He was so thrilled as he drove up in that red Mustang (of course he had to get red, even though I kept telling him that it was a ticket magnet for the local police). He would not listen since he wanted his red Mustang with a passion; I have never seen anyone who felt like this for an inanimate object.

He of course wanted me to go for a ride. “Come on baby, just one ride around the block with me, you will love it,” he pleaded to me through the open car window.

I smiled at him, walked around to the passenger side door, and got into the car. I had to admit it was very nice, all leather with a black interior, “It is nice,” I said as I patted his hand.

He grinned at me like a little boy with a new toy. He carefully backed the car out of the driveway as I put on my seatbelt, he was being careful not to ding it or get any scratches. We drove down the street at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feel and smells of the new car.

“Well, are we going to take this baby for a ride and see what she can do?” I asked with an evil grin. He did not even respond but immediately headed for the freeway, holding my hand he took the entrance ramp to the freeway and gunned it bringing the car to a fast speed at an alarming rate. I felt myself push back into the seat as we whizzed by cars on the freeway.