“Sharon and Nancy were best friends,” he said later. “It might sound crazy, but I had everything covered.”
Chapter 15
SUMMER TEMPERATURES HAD SHORN THE mountains of much of their snow, but they were as magnificent as Bob and Donna Goodhead remembered from their visit in October, the year before. En route to a Denver optical convention, the Goodheads returned to Weston and Wet Canyon the afternoon of July 23, 1983. Of course, they came to see Perry, but they also wanted another look at the thirty-two-acre property they had purchased to bail him out of some serious financial problems. Bob Goodhead had it in his mind that he would build a cabin and retire in Wet Canyon. He and his optometry school buddy would shoot the breeze and pal around until they were old and gray.
Donna Goodhead wasn’t so keen on the idea. She didn’t like the idea of spending any time—especially not her final years—with Sharon Nelson. Bob pressed on with his dream. He frequently remarked to folks back in Oklahoma that his Colorado acreage was so dam beautiful that if it had been in Tulsa, it would have been a city park. Few would argue the point when they saw the pictures.
It was not a surprise visit. Bob called over the Fourth of July holiday and spoke with Perry. Both men were going to take courses offered by the Mountain States Congress of Optometry at the rambling Denver Tech Center. Perry was not going to attend the convention, per se. Instead, he signed up for a pharmacology course that would garner him the certification allowing him to prescribe medicine. Since the two eye docs would not be together in Denver, plans were made to visit before and after in Weston.
Going to see Sharon and Perry was not atop Donna Good-head's Summertime Must-Do List. She understood her husband's friendship included Sharon by default. She’d have to put up with the woman. Donna didn’t like going to Round House, either. She dreaded ending up in a place like that— Bob's retirement dream or not. Donna considered Round House too isolated. It scared her. It was like dropping off the face of the earth just to get up the Nelsons’ godforsaken driveway.
Once Donna talked with Perry about that isolation.
“Perry, what if you need medical attention? What if something happens to you out here? You’ll kill yourself getting out of here. What if you cut your arm chopping wood?”
“We don’t think about that. We like the freedom of living in nature.”
I’ll bet, Donna thought. More like au naturel, than nature.
As they climbed the dusty, rocky driveway, the Goodheads noticed the topaz gleam of the new Jeep Eagle parked outside.
“I just can’t fathom how they can afford a new car,” Donna said. “Bob, they don’t even have groceries half the time.”
Bob didn’t disagree with Donna's sentiments. As much as he liked the man, there was no mistaking Perry was mixed-up when it came to money. Maybe, he hoped, things were better now.
While the Goodheads continued to chew over the subject of the Nelson finances, Sharon appeared at the doorway. A neon sign of makeup flashed across her features. Her top dropped so low it looked more like an addition to her shorts than a separate garment. Even at 38, it was Sharon as she had always been: a hot tomato in sling-backs.
“Perry is really looking forward to seeing you guys,” she said. Smoke curling from her lips, she smiled and waved Donna and Bob into her beautifully furnished living room. She exited to get some cold drinks.
“He’ll be home in just a little while,” she said.
So much had changed. The modest home in Rocky Ford. And the wife. The wife was so far from the first Mrs. Nelson they could not have been married to the same man. Bob Good-head pondered memories of Julie Nelson. She was a plain Jane, a matronly woman who focused her attentions on the children and the church. Sharon was the complete opposite. She was wild. She was a rebel. She was a sexual animal. She smoked. She ate meat. She dressed like a slut. When Sharon's kids ran amok, she paid them no mind. She was enjoying her own life.
And as usual, once Sharon began to blather, everything was fantastic.
“Perry and I had the best sex—the most wonderful sex— the night before he left,” she said as she ushered them inside.
The comment was typical Sharon. So much of what she said was about sex and about how wonderful, how desirable she was.
While the kids ran around the house, the adults continued to make conversation in the living room. Sharon, of course, never needed any help in that regard. She could carry on a complete conversation by herself. Sometimes it seemed as though that was exactly what she did. As the clock swept away the time, it brought more worry and anxiety that Perry had not yet returned. Sharon started mixing more drinks and consumed one after another.