Unconditional Conditions

[blueeyz]

Very interesting! You're definitely off to a good start! You're establishing Isabella's character and feelings towards Peter really well. Got me curious about what Peter's up to......I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

[Cheza]

Great work, Boston! Thanks for sharing.

[valerie]

See you next Chapter , my talented friend

[bostongirl]

Blue - As always thanks for your encouragement. Glad that you like it.

Cheza - Thanks!!! I look forward to your next installment as well.

Val - Thanks. You are such a wonderful supporter.

I will post the next chapter soon. I am traveling and will hopefully figure out how to get my laptop connected.

- Boston

[jillywilly65]

Boston
This is good stuff. I enjoyed reading it although I am anxious for them now. Yikes!
Looking forward to the next chapter.
Sorry it took me forever to get to it.

Jilly

[bostongirl]

Thanks Jilly and everyone. I have the next few chapters written. I just cant get them onto the Internet. I am home for the holidays and i cannot seem to figure out how to get my laptop connected to the network where i am, which is where the next chapters are. Will work on it tomorrow. If not, then i will not be able to post until next Sunday . Sorry.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving.

-Boston

[BBE]

Hey Liz, I really enjoyed your story. Will you ever write another segment of it?

[bostongirl]

Nancy - Thank you!!!! I actually deleted the story in one of those moments of doubt. I really appreciate your note. I have not finished the entire story but have much more written than what I posted. Perhaps I will continue.

See you soon!!!!

Liz

[BBE]

Liz, I hope you do write more and post it. I'm left wondering what happens to the characters, and what is haunting the leading man?

[bostongirl]

Again I would like to thank Nancy for her enocuragement to continue this story. I sort of lost my confidence and deleted it. I so not remember how much I posted, so I am going to post all the chapters I have written so far. It is long, so you might want to grab a drink first...Brevity has never been my strong suit ;D.

I also lost confidence in the story and started to change some things. I have deleted that and am going back to the original so it will take some time to get through the whole thing.

I will post one chapter at a time. Have fun and let me know what you think. And thanks to all for your support. This is so new for me.

[bostongirl]

Chapter 1

Isabella could feel it coming as sure as the thunderstorms on a hot summer’s day in Clearwater. It was predictable but she did not know how to stop it. It was seven months since the last storm and she had hoped the last. But the signs were unmistakable.

The day started out like most Sundays. Last night she and Peter had gone to the Zepher Club to see their good friend Kirk play. His band was on its way to stardom and both Peter and Isabella could not have been happier for him. After the show they left the club for a lot of drinks and a lot of dancing at The Zone. The Zone was one of those clubs where the frenzy was so high that you felt like you were walking on air in the twilight zone. The place was always jammed packed with swingers looking for fun and action. It was also a hang out for the elite and famous from Los Angeles. The Zone was definitely the place to be seen. Friday nights were Isabella’s favorite time. She loved to socialize and hear new musicians and the after parties were wildly entertaining. The whole club scene was so new and exciting to her. Isabella came from a very conservative family and this world was foreign to her. Peter, on the other hand, grew up in this social scene. They hung out with friends, met a few new exotic people, talked about the world of art, music, sex, and whatever was the latest Hollywood gossip and eventually made their way home in the early hours of the morning.

Peter would always have so much pent up energy and excitement left in him from the evening, the bedroom scene would inevitably end up like scenes out of an x rated movie and last night was particularly unusual. She loved it and was eager to please him. He was amazing in the sack. She did not know who taught him the art of lovemaking but wanted to thank them profusely. They slept late Sunday morning, had some coffee and croissants in bed and then made love again and again, in a slower, saner way. Then it was off for their 6 mile jog. Well, jog for Peter, run for Isabella.

During the week she would not let Peter slow his pace for her. She was so much shorter and slower it would not be the workout he wanted or needed. But on Sundays, they would fall in pace together and enjoy their run along the Strand between Redondo and El Segundo and back. Isabella loved the sand, sea and the never ending sunshine of California. The Strand was a side walk of sorts built along the shoreline between the sand and the houses. It ran about 3 miles long and was the perfect distance and place to be in the fresh air. It was also a very safe place for Isabella to workout when Peter was not with her. Volleyball courts lined the beaches and the scenery was spectacular for both genders.

They finished their jog with the usual cool down walk to Starbucks around the corner from Isabella’s condo. She was very addicted to coffee and ordered her usual caffee latte with skim milk and Peter’s usual Tazo Chai tea. When they got back to the condo it was warm, so Isabella opened all the windows and sliders to let the cool, fresh air in. Then off to the showers. This was one area of her home that Isabella splurged on when she bought the condo. She loved showers and had a two person walk in marble shower installed. It had a three hundred sixty degree design with water hitting every inch of her body. Some mornings she would stay in the shower until the hot water ran out. Showering together had become an intimate ritual for them. Peter always washed her hair and she would wash every inch of his tall, lean six foot three body.

Sunday afternoons were slow, lazy, and peaceful just hanging around the condo listening to music. Peter was the cook and would always conjure up culinary delights that would put Govind Armstrong to shame. He was definitely the most creative person that she ever met. Everything he did he put thought into and the outcome had his unique signature, whether it was an Italian pasta dish, putting together an outfit for the evening, or one of his books. He was now on his fifth book and was becoming quite famous. Isabella was a software engineering consultant and had become quite sought after in her own field. It seemed to Isabella that this was a perfect match. It was definitely the differences that attracted him to her. They shared time, space, and love but had their own very different and independent lives.

But this Sunday afternoon would be different. This Sunday afternoon would be the start of the scene that would end up with the “exit”. Yes, she knew the signs well. She was lounging on the patio with the warm sun beating down on her tanned body and was deeply engrossed in the latest Anne Rice book. And then it happened. She heard Peter walk in from the kitchen. She looked up and knew instantly that the peace and beauty of this amazing October day had just come to an end. That look, the stance, the body language. She knew the ending already.

Peter was standing there holding a carton of eggs. “Issy, we need to talk”. He sat on the edge of the lounger and looked so serious, as if he just got word that someone close had passed away. He had the most beautiful, soft spoken voice that she had every heard but he could flip that gentleness into a raging blast without warning. She knew what was coming and a knot in her stomach started to tighten. She could feel panic starting to creep from the tip of her toes up her body. “Issy, please put the book down so we can talk”. “You know I do not mind doing most of the work around here, but I have asked you many times not to put the eggshells back in the box”. “Not only is it unsanitary, but yet again, I have no eggs to cook with when I think the carton is full”. Ok, to her, this was the silliest argument that they got into. It was a bad habit that she picked up years ago. It seemed perfectly fine to her to put the shells back in the carton so all the slimy, gooey whites did not get all over the kitchen when she cooked. She was not the neatest of cooks and it was a perfect solution to her. It drove Peter insane. She could tell from his face that this was not about the eggs. The panic continued to rise through her body. ”Peter, I am so sorry. I really do try to remember. I promise to try harder. Do you want me to help you with dinner”? But he was not going to stop. “Look, it is such a simple request and you know I don’t ask much of you around the here. I am more than willing to take care of this place, but I need for you to just try to abide by a few small requests. And you have not put the toothpaste back in the cabinet once in the last month. I do not understand why these things are so hard for you. This place could look so much better and would run smoother if you would just listen to me”. His voice was steady and soft, but the tone was not the usual patient Peter. This voice was cold and calculated. Like a script being read for the first time. Ok, he was right, but that was not the point. It could have been anything. He was just setting the stage. He went on for about twenty minutes lecturing her about socks, cds, dishes, calling him when late, you name it he wanted to explain the error of her ways, and then as quickly as he appeared, he vanished into the bedroom. Every cell in Isabella’s body was quivering. Not because of the confrontation, but because she knew what was coming next and would give anything to be able to stop it. She did not want to cry, that would only make it worse.

Peter emerged from the bedroom about ten minutes later with a suitcase and his laptop. “I am going to spend a few days in New York City. I just need some time alone to work on my book. I am really sorry, Issy, about the egg thing. You did nothing wrong, it’s me”. He came over and wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss. She had all she could do not to disintegrate on the spot. “Peter, please don’t go”, she said trying to steady the tears in her voice. I miss you too much when you leave. Whatever the problem is, let me help you work it out”. “Issy, I love you more then anything on this earth and do not want to leave. But you can’t help me. I promise to be back next week”. And then he was gone.

[bostongirl]

Chapter 2

Isabella Stanford was thirty six years old, born and raised in Nashua, NH. Her parents Judy and Frank Stanford were typical, steady, conservative New England people. There ancestors had come to America with the pilgrims and had settled in New Hampshire. Every generation since had grown up within twenty miles of each other and either worked on the farms, schools, or the local police department. Isabella was the first in her family to attend college. She graduated from MIT with a bachelor of science in mathematics, and then completed her graduate studies in software engineering.

Isabella was petite, barely making it to 5 feet tall. She had shoulder length blonde, curly hair. She hated it because it seemed to have a mind of its own. She never felt like her hair looked good because no matter how hard she tried, there were always curls falling out in some odd direction. Her features were delicate with a straight tiny nose, and huge green eyes. Many of her friends would tell her how beautiful she was, but she always thought that they were just trying to make her feel good. She was not fond of exercise but had developed a healthy workout routine and diet when she was in her teens and still followed it. Her parents nicknamed her Belle and she could not wait until the day came when she would leave her home and shed that name. She thought it made her sound like a poof-poof, helpless, little female who could not make her way out of a paper bag without the aid of a big strong man. She was anything but that. She took pride in being independent and decided early on that she would become financially independent so that she could plot her own course in life. Her mom did not understand her fierce independence and kept Isabella under strict watch to protect her from the world. When Isabella left home she was book smart and street ignorant. She would learn many lessons the hard way.

Work was her passion. She loved designing new systems and had become renowned in her field. After about 8 years working for various companies, Isabella decided to start her own consulting company. That was 7 years ago. She now had 14 employees consulting at some of the most prestigious companies around the world and annual profits would reach about $4 Million this year. She owned a condominium right on Redondo Beach. It was a three bedroom on the ground floor. It had an expansive patio area facing the Pacific Ocean. About three years ago, Isabella also purchased a home in Clearwater, Florida from her close friend, Dawn. Dawn was short like Issy, had flaming red hair, smoked, and believed that life was one big party. Dawn was going through her fourth ugly divorce and had to drop the property quick or lose it to the low life man that she had married. This home was more lavish and sat on one of the Intracoastal waterways. There were four bedrooms, three baths, and an in-ground pool. And Dawn threw in the inboard/outboard, forty three foot Donzi speed boat that was her ex’s baby. At the moment she was renting it out to Dawn. Two homes, one on each coast. Not bad for a farm girl.

She was easy going and loved to surround herself with friends and family and treasured casual evenings filled with good food, great wine and stories and laughter. She had a unique sense of humor that most people could not understand. It took her a long time to realize that and had learned to adjust her comments. Life was really good for Isabella except in one area. She could not seem to find anyone suited for her to love and share her life with.

She was very naïve about men. She had little experience through her college years. She dated mostly nerds like herself, so no one really knew what they were doing. It made for some pretty awkward dates. She dated casually, after she graduated but nothing serious until she met Michael. She thought she was in love. Michael was a banker and had a strong, powerful personality. He was looking for a wife. Isabella was looking for love. After two years and a lot of fights, they parted ways. It was devastating to Isabella although she could not quite understand why. Her best guess was that she hated the feeling of being rejected. She could not bring herself to get serious about a man again, after Michael. Until of course, she met Peter.


Peter Matthews was born to Hillary and Jonathan Matthews, two highly active socialites on the New York City theater scene. Jonathan and Hillary both came from money and enjoyed the life of philanthropists. Peter was an only child and lived a life of privilege. It was assumed that he would go to a collegiate college, learn business and finance and take over the families many investments. He was a quiet, well behaved child and learned early on that making waves was a losing battle. So he took another path and made many waves in places that were invisible to his parents.

Peter was six foot three inches tall, with thick light brown hair, intense gray eyes, and a smile that could light all of Los Angeles. He was not particularly handsome, but had that look which made most women turn his way. He was a fascinating study in contrasts. He was tall, yet did not seem so when you were standing beside him. He was confident with his body and when in public walked like a famous star. Yet when not in the public eye he walked with slightly rounded shoulders with his head down. He seemed to be a light-hearted soul, yet if he let a person into his world the moody, dark side would show its face on a regular basis. He was a genius, but saw himself as average. He would appear at social events with his parents as the quiet, serious son. Yet, you could find him at The Zepher club most Saturday nights dancing like most men could only dream about. He had the mind to be a brilliant business man, as his father had hoped, but the soul of an artist that only his mother really appreciated. In the end, the artist won the battle.

Peter had a passion for writing. He loved to write stories of adventure and mystery with plots so complex once you got past page three you could not put the book down. His endings were always a surprise and never disappointed the reader. Peter had the gift and he had already written four best sellers at his tender age of twenty six.

They met at Summerfest in Chicago. Isabella had only two close friends, Dawn and Valerie. She would trust both of them with her life. Dawn, who was a rocker chick since the day she shed diapers, was a die-hard groupie. This may have contributed to the downfall of her four marriages, but don’t try to tell her that. And the truth was she had the unique skill of looking out into a crowd and finding the biggest creep in the place. Oh, he would look all cool and easy going, but inevitably he would turn into a monster. It was amazing how quickly she could find them. And each time, there was no talking her out of being with the guy. She would always think that this one is different. Isabella could not pass judgment on Dawn. First of all, it was not her way. She was not fond of people who deemed themselves in a position to judge another. And secondly, she herself had been a colossal failure when it came to men.

Isabella had not been particularly interested in going to Summerfest, but Dawn was relentless in convincing her to go. It had been the hottest day of the summer and Isabella was miserable. They had been walking around, drinking beer, and listening to bands for hours. She had to admit the music was fabulous and electric. But she was hot. She wore a baseball cap to keep all those curls out of her face and the sun off her head, a halter top and shorts to stay cool, and her favorite Teva flip flops. She was getting sunburned and just wanted to jump in a cool pool anywhere. Dawn was off flirting with some guy in leather and chains. He had enough tattoos to cover Yankee Stadium. It was going to be a long day. Isabella decided to get another cold beer and find shade anywhere.

The beer line was very long and slow. When it came her turn to order, she decided to get a large size. “One large Coors Light, please, you must be dying back there it is so hot”, she said to the gal behind the counter. The girl laughed and poured two glasses. “Here, take two the line is really long, it’s on me”. Isabella quickly thanked her and headed for the food tent where they had set up picnic tables. She was half way there when she remembered that she forgot her change and made an abrupt one hundred eight degree turn to go back. She slammed into a tall tree, promptly spilled both glasses of beer, lost her balance and landed on her butt. At least, it looked like a tree in the blinding sun. “Are you alright?” She thought the voice had to be Saint Peter because it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She looked up and saw this very tall man extend his hand to her to help her up. She had spilling both glasses of beer down his jeans. Isabella quickly took the guys hand and got up. “Oh God, I am so sorry, I am so clumsy. Can I buy you a beer to make up for it?” The man laughed and smiled. She could not believe anyone could have such an amazing smile. He took her hand headed for the beer stand and said, “No, but let me buy you a beer, it was my fault”. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, watching more bands and laughing at all the strange sites. When the sun finally set, Peter asked her if he could see her again. Isabella was mesmerized by this charming stranger but unsure that she wanted to get involved. Then without warning he leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, warm, and long. She kissed him back. He wrapped his long, strong arms around her and did not let go. And the rest is history, so to speak.

They had been together for the past two years, expect for the times when Peter would disappear. It had happened three times since they moved in together. Everything would be going along great. And then without warning Peter would start an argument with her and then pack his bag. He would claim that he needed some new scenery and solitude to work on his book. And then he would vanish. The first two times he was only gone for about three weeks, but the last time she did not see him for four months.

Each time he would return looking like he had been through a war zone. He would get so thin it was scary, be exhausted with no visible life in those amazing gray eyes. She would take him back, love him, and nurture him back to health. She knew one thing. He did not go to NYC just to write. There was something dark and painful deep inside him. She was not sure whether it was drugs, another woman or something she could not even imagine. She only knew that Peter worked really hard to bury it, but it always seemed to resurface. She wanted to help him fight the battle, whatever it was, but he would not let her into that part of his life.

[bostongirl]

Chapter 3

Peter was ashamed at what he had just done. He did not really want to leave Isabella again. He wished that he could go back, but there was no turning around now. The last few days he had been in a fog trying hard not to give in. But then the phone call came and it was the trigger that set his course. He had been trying to talk himself out of going because he was not sure that he could win the battle that was in front of him. In the end, he decided that he had to stop fighting these battles and win the war. So he decided to go to New York and confront his demons head on.

He boarded United Flight 293 and settled himself into the second row seat in first class. He brought his laptop and iPod to occupy his mind for the 4 hour trip. Peter thought about Isabella and felt his throat tighten as he pictured her back at the condo. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and it just tore him up inside that he kept hurting her. But he knew one thing for sure. If she ever knew the truth and the whole truth she would dump him like an old, hot potato. The disdain that he felt for himself was overpowering and he would not be able to withstand the look of disgust he was sure she could not hide if she knew.

Peter put his headphones on and turned on Shuffle so he would not have to think. Rock and roll blasted through the headset. The flight attendant showed up with a glass of wine and a huge flirty smile and asked “Is there anything else that I can get for you Mr. Matthews”? He could not even manage a smile and did not look up. “No, thanks”. Opening his laptop he began to write the next chapter of his book. It was a dark adventure about two deplorable human beings trying to steal someone else’s life and identities. He was only on chapter 2 and was trying to decide if he wanted the characters to have any redeeming qualities. Perhaps, something that would carry the reader through to the end. He was torn between writing the really dark story that was in his head and thinking about what readers would find palpable. It was always best to go with the truth and hope that people liked to read it. It was never a good idea to compromise your art for marketing. He chose the dark side.

Chapter 2 was almost done when the jet touched down at JFK airport. He did not check bags so headed outside to find a cab. It was October and the cold was starting to settle into the Northeast for the winter. He pulled the collar of his leather jacket around his neck and waited his turn for a cab. He did not notice an admiring woman standing near him trying to gain his attention. But then again, even on the best of days, he barely noticed. He never thought anything about the way he looked and it never occurred to him that anyone else did.

As the cab made its way through the noisy streets to Manhattan, Peter just stared out the window wondering why he had caved in and come here. He promised himself that he would stay in the apartment and work on his book. He should call Isabella and talk with her but did not know what to say. He would need to come up with something to say first and at the moment he could not think of anything past, I’m sorry and I love you. God, he loved her so much. Why couldn’t he be just some normal guy? He would give anything to marry her and spend the rest of their lives together. But that was out of the question until he could look himself in the mirror without hating himself.

Peter meant to tell Isabella about the apartment many times. It was not that it was a secret; it was just not an easy thing to bring up. “Oh, by the way, Issy, you know when I walk out and go to NYC? Well, I have this apartment that I own and that is where I stay. Sure, I would love to show you sometime”. Sooner or later he would have to tell her. The more secrets that he kept the less likely it was that they would stay together. After all, how much forgiveness could one man ask?

The apartment was really cold. Peter flipped on the lights and headed straight for the thermostat. Any luck the place would warm up within half an hour. He felt like he had ice water running through his veins and was totally exhausted. He dropped onto the couch and threw the comforter over himself. Sleep was not to be his on this night. Each time he started to doze off the images in his mind would cause his stomach to churn and wake him. Those thoughts sickened him. He would not let this destroy what he had worked so hard for. He wondered what Issy was doing this very second.

[bostongirl]

Chapter 4

After an hour of being paralyzed from Peter’s abrupt exit, Issy had made her way into the condo and into the bedroom. She sat in the middle of the bed with her head buried in Peter’s pillow. She could smell the scent of him on the pillowcase. The panic had made its way into her throat and she was having a difficult time trying to breath. She wanted to call Dawn and Valerie but she feared her voice would not make any sound if she tried to talk. She tried to walk away from this relationship after the first time Peter vanished. But when he returned she could not deny him her love. She loved him deeper than she thought it possible for one person to love another. But she could not live the rest of her life this way. She was not strong enough. This time she could not just sit and wait for him to return. This time she needed to do something but had no idea what.

She really needed to talk with her two friends for both support and some ideas. Slowly she made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a big glass of Shiraz. The October night air was making its way into the condo, so she carefully closed and locked the windows and sliders and then threw on her favorite sweats. As she turned to leave the walk-in closet she remembered the keys. Issy was sorting and putting away laundry a few weeks ago, which was something she rarely did. She was putting away Peter’s socks and found two identical keys on the bottom of the drawer. She had no idea what they were for but was pretty sure she was not supposed to know they were there. As she moved away the socks she saw only one key. She took it and held it tight in her hand. It was the clue to something and she needed to find the answers. She tucked the key away in her wallet, grabbed her cell phone and made her way back to the bed. Valerie and Dawn were both on speed dial. This would need to be a three way call.

The first call was to Valerie who was the most solid, level headed person that Issy had ever met, other than her Dad. Valerie and Issy were friends since childhood and had been in the same schools from kindergarten through high school graduation. Valerie then attended UCLA art school. She was very talented and had her own gallery in Soho. When Val was thirty she met and married Henry Peterson and they quickly produced two children Adam and Allycia. It seemed to Issy that Val had found the perfect life.

“Hey Val, it’s me”, Issy said with much effort. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t even try to deny it, I can hear it in your voice”, Val said with a very concerned tone. “It’s Peter, he’s gone again. Wait let me get Dawn on speed dial. I need help with this one” replied Issy. She dialed Dawn’s cell phone. It rang about ten times before Dawn picked up and laughed “This better be good, Issy, I have company right now”. When Dawn heard why Issy had called she walked onto the patio for privacy and replied “Oh, honey, I am so, so sorry. That guy really sucks. I keep telling you to dump him. There is something just not right there. Ok, I am sorry. You did not need that right now. When did this happen”? With both her friends now on the phone, she told them the whole story and that she needed to do something but needed some help in figuring out what that was. The three talked for about two hours throwing out ideas that ranged anywhere from hiring a private detective to leaving a Dear John voicemail. In the end, they all agreed that Issy needed to find Peter and confront the problem head on. They hatched a plan for Issy to stay with Val in Soho and start her search there. Dawn agreed to also fly to NYC and help her friend. To Dawn, there were no other options. Issy was her best friend. She had saved her life years before, and pulled her butt out of many a sticky situation. There was nothing that Dawn wouldn’t do for her friend.

When everyone finally said goodnight, Issy collapsed on the bed and again grabbed Peter’s pillow. Oh god, Peter, where are you and what are you doing kept playing over and over in her head as she fell asleep.

[blueeyz]

Hi Boston! I finally read this......once again I am intrigued and impressed!! And so proud!! I look forward to reading more....