On the occasions when I did get home Bill was neither seen nor heard about. Charlene was mine on my weekends in the country. In January I was home once. In February I was home once. I wanted Charlene to move back to Portland where we could act like we were married. I said so.
Charlene showed me her last pay stub. She had gone from $9.50 an hour when she started in April to $19.00 an hour! She was doing quite well in her new job. Not only that but she was getting between ten and twenty hours of overtime every week! I was doubly surprised when she showed me a brochure for a vacation she thought we might like. She wanted to know when I wanted to go. We decided that late May would be good. I'd never been to Alaska on a cruise. Now we would have a week of sun, scenery, and a small cabin for fun!
In March we had some really bad weather and for two weeks the road was washed out and the drive would have been eight hours longer to get home. I didn't go. I was home one weekend. I was starting to see a pattern. I was married two days a month and celibate the rest of the month.
The weather cooperated in April. It rained some but that only added an hour or so to the commute. I was home the first weekend in April. On the following Wednesday I got a call from Charlene just before I headed for work.
"Hi. How are things in Portland?"
"Lonely, but the weather looks good for this weekend."
"That's why I'm calling. I need to go to a conference this weekend for the farm. Mary was going to go but two of her kids have chicken-pox. You can come up if you want but I'm going to be gone."
"I can't say I like the idea of you going out of town but I'll come up. If the weather holds I can get a couple projects done."
"That would be good. Maybe you could clean up some of the winter debris in the yard?"
"Sure. I'll put that high on my list."
Charlene told me she would miss out special time and promised to make it up to me.
On Friday I bought some things in Portland that I thought I may need in Trout Lake. When I got off at midnight I gassed up and headed home. At a little after four I parked next to Charlene's car and went into the cabin. She must have driven with someone to the conference. I sacked out alone and slept until lunch time on Saturday. I drove to the gas station and got gas and since the only burger place is part of the gas station I had lunch. I had been unseen around town for most of the winter so the four people eating burgers didn't know me. I listened as they talked, especially after I heard one woman mention Charlene.
"You know Charlene is gone this weekend?"
"Really? Bill must be tired of screwing her at her place. Where did they go?"
"Bill was telling the office staff that there was a conference in Bend for equipment he thought we might need this summer. Darlene told me he had her book two rooms in Bend."
"I wonder if either of them will actually go to the conference?"
"I saw them in conference last week in the big barn. Seems Charlene was on her knees examining something Bill had in his pants."
"I've seen that same conference out in the drying barn."
These young people were telling me that Charlene was messing around with her boss, Bill! Damn! I wondered if it were true, and how I could verify their story. I needed proof! I finished my lunch and went back to our cabin. Using my cell phone I called Bend Chamber of Commerce and asked where the conference for farming equipment was being held. I called that hotel and asked if Charlene Peterson was registered. They said "No." I asked if any rooms were registered for Green Leaf Farms. They confirmed that two rooms were registered for the farm.
I called a friend that worked for the same company as I did, but in our Bend office. After a conversation with him I emailed him a picture of Charlene. Three hours later I had a return email of five pictures my friend had just taken of Charlene and Bill at the hotel. Two of the five were of them kissing. One showed Bill holding Charlene's ass while they stood in the elevator. I was convinced that the story I heard was true. My wife was screwing her boss! Now the question became what to do about it.
I started a couple small projects around the house and finished them as I thought. One thought was about Bill's wife. Did she know? Did she care? I had no idea where they lived in the valley but figured I could find out fairly easily. I drove over to the tiny post office. Trout Lake doesn't have delivery. Everyone in town goes to the post office to get their mail.
Once at the post office I spoke to the postal worker. I told her that I was thinking about buying a cabin and spending part of the summer here. The more we talked the more I learned about Trout Lake the community. In the fifteen minutes I was there eight women came in to check and pick up mail. I asked if men came in too. She told me that one man always picked up his own mail. Bill. Seems his wife didn't get out much. Word was that she was shy. Lived in a big brick house just out the north side of town. She had a car, a black Ford Expedition that she used to transport kids to and from school. We talked a couple minutes more and I said I'd be back as soon as I found a suitable cabin.
I drove out north of town and saw the brick house with a black Ford SUV parked in front. A woman was out in front using a hoe on the flowerbeds along the fence. I drove up near her and rolled down the window of my car.
"Is this where Bill Stevens lives?"
"Who's askin?" She leaned on the hoe and looked me over. I looked her over too. Bib overalls can hide a multitude of sins but these seemed intent on allowing her breasts to escape. She wasn't overweight to my eyes but, she was wearing bibs. About 5'5", maybe 135 ponds, brown hair cut short for comfort and ease of care. That was my two second assessment.
"I'm Pete Peterson."
"Charlene's husband?" Her eyes widened. She looked around.
"Yup."
"Drive three quarters of a mile down this road to a small sign that says CR-18. Turn right and go about two hundred yards. Wait there. I'll be there as quick as I can. It may take me half and hour. Now, go." She went back to work with her hoe. I drove off.
"She knows," I said, out loud. When I saw the sign for County Road 18 I turned. Two hundred yards later I stopped at a small clearing. A picnic table and one of those camp stoves the forest service uses were there. I got out of my truck and sat on the table. Twenty minutes went by.
A black Expedition parked behind my truck. Mrs. Bill Stevens got out. She looked around and then walked to me. Twice she brushed her hair back.
"You came to see if I knew, didn't you?"
"Yes, among other things."
"OK. I know. I can't prove a damn thing and Bill says nothing is going on, but I know he's lying!"
"Unless we can prove it we both stand to lose a lot by taking any action. What do you want to do?"
"Get the evidence and hang them both out to dry!"
"OK. I agree. I need to be able to communicate with you. Can we set a schedule and have you call me down in Portland?"
"No. Bill watches the phone usage like it meant his life. He even arranged that incoming calls are on our bill. You can't call me. And, don't write. He picks up all the mail and he reads every piece."
"I'm coming back next weekend. I will bring you an unlisted cell phone. Keep it off except when you can get away and call me. To be safe I will include a slip of paper with my cell phone number on it. Only the last two numbers will be two digits high. My number ends in 4725 but on the slip it will say 4747. That way if someone sees it they still won't have my number."
"How will you get the phone to me?"