Resentment Part 4 – Before I Let You Go – By Coley

New Orleans

 

The unambiguous symphony of labored rushing breathes and mumbled words stopped with the motion of John’s tensing muscles. Those blue eyes that rarely looked away hid behind clenched lids. A near smile turned the corners of his mouth. Leaving a soft kiss where his chest pulsed, I climbed slowly from his body.

 

“I don’t think grandparents behave this way, honey,” I said, falling to John’s side to lay in the crook of his arm.

 

He glanced down through half-lids, “In what way?” “Lustily,” I said, tracing the outline of his lips. “Wait a minute. You’re a grandmother,” he curved a

 

hand over his mouth. “No way a grandmother behaves the way you do. I don’t believe it.”

 

 

“Believe it.” I sat up and threw my legs over my side of the bed. “Although, it’s been easy to forget, being here with you.” I rubbed his arm and leaned over to kiss him before getting to my feet.

 

He grabbed my hand, “Where are you going?” “Away from my prison if that’s okay.” I laughed

 

falling back across his chest. “You’ve had me chained to this bed for hours. I was thinking I’d maybe stretch my muscles. Have a drink of water?”

 

He smiled as he relaxed into the sea of silken gold and red pillows. “I guess you deserve a break then. “Come here,” he directed pursing his lips.

 

I took his face to pull his mouth to mine. “That’s better,” he pulled away. “You may go now.”

 

“I didn’t realize I was married to such a taskmaster.” Achy legs carried me across the soft maroon carpet. I

 

stopped at the tray of untouched food on a cart where room service had left it yesterday afternoon. I lifted the lid wrinkling my nose at the sour smell. The steak and salad had lost their appeal. The leaves had wilted; the steaks were bone dry. There were two half-empty flutes of champagne beside the silver bucket of melted ice. I drained the warm champagne and found a carrot to munch.

 

 

I’d lost track of time. Night had risen into gray morning outside. We had arrived separately yesterday morning. I’d checked into our hotel first and then went looking for little trinkets for the children on Bourbon Street where he met me an hour later.

 

The French Quarter, New Orleans itself, had a bursting sensuality. Everywhere we’d gone, couples were lazing through the streets wrapped around one another. Music poured into the streets from the sidewalk clubs near our hotel. It was easy to remember why I’d invited John to come on this working mini-vacation while we walked through the French Quarter. We had lunch at a cozy café that streamed jazz through its dining room. The slow dance that began under the blazing afternoon sun ended in our hotel room peeling clothes off our sticky bodies. We’d fallen into bed after taking a shower together. The movie and dinner we’d planned were forgotten. I dozed off and woke up to the intoxicating smells of the dinner John had ordered. He insisted on feeding me while I l sat in his lap distracting him with my mouth nibbling at his neck. The champagne went quickly to my head, as it always did. I had two bites of steak before I pulled him back into bed to make love uninterrupted, again.

 

We couldn’t stay in bed all day like we had managed to yesterday. I was in New Orleans to give a lecture that

 

 

afternoon. I had been shocked and pleasantly surprised when John agreed to drop whatever he was doing back home to join me. The lure of New Orleans and our history in the city had done exactly what I–we needed. We needed to reconnect. Our lives were moving so rapidly that I felt like we needed a moment to stop and just enjoy each other like married couples, without the children. I had enjoyed every carefree minute. I hadn’t been able to share this kind of freedom with John in a long while, not with children as young as we had, or with our careers. I was already dreading that it would soon come to an end.

 

I went back and crawled into bed. He’d fallen asleep. I lay my cheek across the fuzzy flesh of his belly where I had a perfect view of his face. A beard threatened from two days of not shaving. There were shadows beneath his eyes. He was a tired father burning the candles on both ends.

 

His eyes opened when I stroked his cheek. He began rolling strands of my messy hair through his fingers. “You’re back.” He lifted my hand to kiss the palm. “It’s been a long time since I had you all to myself,” he said. “And of all places New Orleans.”

 

There was the hint of complaint. We weren’t living a quiet, retiring life with our grandchildren crawling over our

 

 

legs as we rocked in our chairs on the back porch. We still had three children who hadn’t gone through puberty. We also had grown children and grandchildren. And work that kept us apart most of the time.

 

I’d been promoting my book, Letting Go, for two years. I had written it to exorcise past demons. It was about my life, lessons that had helped me understand the process of letting go to gain something better. It had become a bestseller too quickly for any of us to process. Our lives were now revolving around the book and where it took me to next. After this New Orleans engagement, I’d asked my book agent for some time off in order to spend the first weeks of summer with the children and John.

 

“I have to leave soon, John.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. :. “They’re sending the car by eleven.”

 

I wanted to stay there, curled into his warmth. Inhaling him with every breath and listening as his heart found a smoother rhythm.

 

“I know,” he yawned. “Lay with me for just a couple more minutes. Come here.”

 

At dawn, he had whispered those same words with purpose. I’d awoke to the rugged sound of his voice piercing the shell of my ear. Asking. Begging. It was hard to tell which. There hadn’t been any clothes to be removed. They were still on

 

 

the floor. He had been holding me since the last time I’d come apart in his arms.

 

“I miss this kind of day. I miss us.”

 

“I know you do,” I said softly. “We have the next couple of weeks. Just us.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it.” He yawned again. “It’s been too long.”

 

I kissed his lowered lids and left him sleeping.

 

“We’ve been busy,” John was saying into his phone when I came in from my shower. I knew from his tone that it was one of our children. His voice was low and filled with tenderness. “I like spending time with Mama, too. She is my wife, you know.”

 

I extended my wrist for him to clasp my charm bracelet. “Which one?” I whispered.

 

He mouthed Noah, smiling. “Son, Mama and I will be home by bedtime.” He added a kiss to my wrist after securing the bracelet. “We miss you too, kid. Yes, we miss Nicky and Jules, too. I promise.”

 

Our breakfast tray had arrived while I showered. A beautiful spread of fruit and beignets on a silver tray that John had left on the cart beside the bed. I piled some fruit on

 

 

a plate and handed it to John. I sat down on the bed beside him and accepted a piece a cantaloupe from his free hand. He was more adept at dividing his attention between the children and me than I was. When either of my babies had my attention, everything in the world was paused so that I could focus on them completely. John was different. He stroked the side of my neck smiling appreciatively at my partially dressed state as he listened to Noah. My blouse and skirt were still hanging in the closet to avoid wrinkles. I was wearing a simple pair of black French cut underwear and a matching lacy bra.

 

“Yes, Mama’s right here,” John said. Fingertips inched toward the swells of cleavage toppling the cups of my bra. “She misses you guys as much as you miss her. She always misses you.” He soothed our youngest son as his eyes floated from mine downward.

 

“John,” I whispered, closing my eyes to discourage

 

him.

 

“Of course you can speak your Mama. She’s right here, son.” He pressed the phone to my ear, leaning close to whisper, “I think you’re going to have to shower again.”

 

The unmistakable voice of my youngest son mingled with the husky force of John’s. “Hi, baby. How’s my boy?” John placed the plate of fruit on top of my thighs. He grabbed a pineapple

 

 

spear and rubbed it slowly across my lips until I took it into my mouth.

 

“I want you to come home,” Noah demaned. “Not later Mama, now. Can you come home now?”

 

John moved slowly as he sculpted his body against mine from behind. I struggled for words to answer Noah, but John’s hands were distracting. They had begun their journey across the planes of my legs.

 

“I am, sweetie. I promise. I’m coming home tonight, just like daddy told you. I miss you guys. Are you being sweet for Holly?”

 

“No,” my son admitted. “I don’t like her, Mama.” “Noah…” I couldn’t help smiling at him. At six, he

 

hadn’t learned that honesty didn’t have to be so harsh. “You’ll hurt her feelings if she hears you. Holly loves you.” She’d been working with our family for three years now in an all-capacity role; my personal assistant, nanny, housekeeper, and cook as needed.

 

“I just want you and Daddy to come home.”

 

John’s lips moved to my neck as his hands bridged over my stomach. “John…”

 

“Mama?”

 

I bit into my lip before answering. “I know you do

 

 

baby.”

 

“We can’t,” I told John, covering the phone. “I’d love to but we don’t have time. I have to finish dressing and dry my hair.”

 

“Just let me…” he slid a hand past the waistband of my underwear.

 

“Mama,” Noah called out in frustration. “What are you

 

doing?”

 

“Honey, I’m here,” I startled as the plate of fruit fell at my feet. “I was just telling your Daddy something.” I pulled John’s hand back to my stomach. “Daddy needs something he can’t have right now.” John sighed and slanted his head against mine laughing. “Where are Nicky and Noodle?”

 

“Sleeping, I guess.”

 

“Does Holly know you’re on the phone?”

 

He hesitated, “No.”

 

“Baby, I’m glad you’ve memorized Daddy’s number but–” “Yours too,” he said swiftly. “You didn’t answer. What

 

were you and Daddy doing?”

 

“Sleeping.” I laughed softly. “Now do Mama a favor? Be good until I’m home. Tell your brother and sister I love and miss them when they’re awake. And have Holly call me. Okay? Can you do those things?”

 

 

“Yep.”

 

“Good. I love you, sweetie.”

 

“Love you, Mama. Daddy, too.”

 

I held the phone to John’s ear for him to tell Noah goodbye. “I love you, kid. I’ll see you soon.”

 

I took the phone back and said goodbye.

 

“I can’t blame the kid for missing you. You leave quite an impression,” John said, getting out of bed and bending at my knees to pick up the fruit. “But I can blame him for his timing.” He cleaned the mess and stood to put the plate back on the cart. He put on his robe and walked to open the doors of the balcony.

 

Sunlight slipped inside our cozy room of filled with antique romantic furniture. He stood like a god burnished by the sun. “I guess I’ll go workout while you work.”

 

“Last night didn’t count as a workout? I don’t think I’ll have to work out for another week. Thanks.”

 

“We could add another week.” He lifted a bushy

 

eyebrow.

 

I pretended to contemplate. “Hmm, nope.” I rose from the bed and went into his opened arms. Our bodies molded to the places we knew best. My head beneath his chin; his arms woven tightly around me. “I loved last night. I’m sorry I’ve been so

 

 

busy.”

 

“It’s okay. One of the things I love about you is your ability to reach people. I’m just missing my wife. Don’t hold it against me.”

 

I tilted my neck to look into his face. “I don’t. I appreciate that you allow me to be exactly who I am without much complaint.” His mouth closed roughly over mine.

 

“We needed this,” he said, breaking away. “I hate when we’re out of sync.”

 

“I know you do.”

 

My schedule was far heavier than his was. Once the success of the book overtook my schedule we had to come to some hard decisions. When I couldn’t be home, we decided that, even with Holly there that he should also be with the children. I wanted them to have one of us if they couldn’t have both of us physically there. And Holly had her own family; a husband and little boy. She couldn’t be with the children every hour of the day. Even if Holly could, I still wanted my children to have one of their parents around consistently.

 

“It’s flattering to be so loved.”

 

I was teasing but he tightened his hold and grew serious. “You are loved. No matter what, I love you and our kids. I love our life.”

 

 

“You’d better,” I stroked his cheek. My touch didn’t soften his face. “Are you all right, honey?”

 

My question drew him back from whatever edge his thoughts had gone to. “Yes…now go before I change my mind.”

 

“Going,” I smiled, leaving a light kiss across his

 

chin.

 

“The first relationship I shared with a man taught me fear and loathing.”

 

The flat truth of those words spread over the hushed crowd. They held their attention as strongly as I held control over my voice. Telling this part of my story always cut through my center. It wasn’t a story over whose details you could dance. Alex, good or bad, had set the path for every relationship to come after.

 

Intensive therapy to recall the moments that I spent with Alex came at a cost. I remembered. And the pain ached crueler the second time around. But, I finally had something to give back to Rachel. Some part of the childhood that we’d both been robbed of. I remembered organically that had feared Alex as much as I loved and adored Rachel. I was able to recall how I

 

 

protected her from Alex’s mercurial moods, how giving birth to her gave me courage I’d forgotten in my relationship with Alex. She was as blessed not to remember as I was cursed to remember. Neither of us came out unscathed. She lost me when she needed me the most. I began the book as a love letter to her, and it flowered into something greater.

 

“I learned a very real lesson through this relationship. If you’ve read Letting Go, you know it was an abusive marriage. My ex-husband forced me to live within an unnatural torment.” I didn’t use Alex’s name in the book or in public out of respect for Rachel and the already tarnished thoughts she carried of him.

 

“It crept into our marriage without warning. It would be so much easier to just say he was disturbed instead of cruel. We forgive disturbed people all the time. Except my ex-husband wasn’t. He was cruel. His cruelty diminished everything my parents taught me about myself. All the value and love I’d been raised with could not withstand his cruelty.”

 

“He taught me to hate myself.” I moved away from the lectern. A pair of wide brown eyes followed. They belonged to a young woman sitting in the front row. She’d perched forward on the seat. “He taught me how to mistrust my instincts. To seek approval for my existence. To become responsible for someone

 

 

else’s anger.” She nodded faintly at each description. “I’ve only just recovered from those pathologies. It took years to overcome his conditioning. But, and this is the lesson: it doesn’t matter how much of yourself you’ve given away. You can always take yourself back.”

 

Most of the people in the crowd were here because they’d seen the dozen or so television interviews I had given over these last two years. My life intrigued them. The myriad of marriages and children. The media-hyped fairytale of my latest marriage to John and our second chance at strong family. Women could identify with me. The men were fascinated. My book agent and publishing house counted on that. It was all a very neat package.

 

However, there were women like the young girl whose eyes burned into mine. These women who had shared the crueler intimacies of my story. Their tears were as real as their admiration. They were looking for something I could give, but I could only give them me and what I’d learned, how I had somehow survived.

 

“Beyond anything you see standing here, I’m a mother first. More importantly, I’m the mother of daughters. Five daughters. My four boys are sweet and gentle, respectful. I don’t worry as much for their emotional health. Their fathers

 

 

are great role models. With the exception of this relationship,

 

I married loving and compassionate men. It’s my duty to teach my

 

girls by example to love and honor themselves so that they won’t

 

ever lose themselves the way that I almost did.”

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Welcome Home, Doc

 

My cellphone was blinking with notifications of voice messages from the children after I finished my speech and signed books. The security woman assigned to me had led me though a barely lit hallway toward the car that had been chauffeuring me around New Orleans. I thanked her and climbed into my waiting car.

 

I had to prepare myself to hear their message. The pull they had over me was undeniable. And I was missing them terribly. As much as I was loving all the quiet time that I had with John, I also loved the time that I was able to spend with them. There were nights that I spent crying into my pillow in the empty hotel rooms I stayed in across the country from missing all of them so much. Their daddy and them. It was awful,

 

 

the guilt that I had taken on since I’d become America’s favorite author.

 

I took a breath and played the message. They spoke as one, a trio of voices asking me very sweetly to come back home soon. Noah’s voice was smaller than Nicky’s but stronger than Juliana’s. My older girls, Rachel and Belle, and also left messages. Holly had, too. In a couple of hours, I’d be thrust back into the sometimes noisy flood of my family.

 

For now, I took in the calm as we drove along. It was the only way to piece myself back together after talking about the things I had to talk about in my lectures. In my hand was the note from the young woman in the front row. She’d scribbled a simple message: Thank You. She had waited patiently in line with a book to be signed. Without sharing her name or story, I understood it by the firm hold of her arms around me. My wet cheek from her tears. She’d pressed the note into the palm of my hand and scurried away.

 

“I hope you enjoyed my city,” Carlo, the driver said. His green eyes peered from beneath his pageboy cap. “You’ve been a pleasure to escort around. One of the nicer celebrities I’ve driven.”

 

“I’m not a celebrity, Carlo, really,” I said. Being considered a celebrity wasn’t something I would ever be

 

 

comfortable with. The word itself came with high expectations and assumptions. “But, thank you for saying so.”

 

He snorted. “Of course you are. My wife saw you on Oprah. Thanks for signing her book. She’s been showing everybody.”

 

I smiled. “It’s the least I could do, Carlo.”

 

He cleared his throat. “Must be hard, having so many people know everything about you. Every detail there for the taking. You’ve been married almost as much as Elizabeth Taylor,” he chuckled adding, “I read some of your book.”

 

I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I keep some things for myself.”

 

“Good for you,” Carlo winked. When he pulled up to the curb near the entrance to the hotel, he got out and opened my door. He took my hand and helped me out of the car. “Just call when you’re ready to go to the airport.”

 

“I will. Thanks, Carlo.”

 

John didn’t hear me as I used my key to enter our room. His was standing on the balcony with his back turned. The room was in a bit of disarray. Our suitcases were on opened on the bed. He had started packing them both but had probably been distracted by the phone. The toys I’d gotten for the children were scattered with my clothes. The television was blasting the

 

 

latest baseball scores.

 

I called out to him, but he didn’t hear. He was entrenched so deeply in his conversation. He was holding his head in one hand, the other was tightly gripped the phone. His knuckles were bone white.

 

I walked softly toward him and wrapped myself around his back. He trembled and jumped at my touch while shrinking away. He jerked around, eyes stretched wide with panic. His Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively as he swallowed.

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I covered my own thudding chest feeling his panic spread throughout my body. “I just wanted to let you know I was back.”

 

His eyes grew dark. “Don’t do that to me, Doc,” he nearly shouted, clenching his jaw.

 

I stepped back still holding my chest. “John, I’m sorry.” I barely whispered.

 

He seemed to come to himself. The light moved back into his eyes. “No, no, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just didn’t hear you come in.” He repeated, covering the phone.

 

I kept my distance even though he’d reached out for me. “I don’t see how you could. The TV’s so loud, honey. I could hear it in the hallway.”

 

 

“I was watching a game,” he explained. “Doc, I’m dealing with this guy on the phone. Give me a minute?”

 

“Yes. I’m going to change for the flight.” I started undoing my pants. “I want to get home as soon as we can.” I slid my pants down and stepped out of them. “I’m going to shower.”

 

“Wait,” John said. He brought my body closer to his. “I really am sorry for that. Forgive me. Please.”

 

“Honey, I’m fine. You rattled me there for a minute but I’m okay.” I tasted scotch when he kissed me. “I am a little tired,” I pulled away. “I need to go shower. I’m anxious to see the babies.”

 

That brought a wide grin to his mouth. “They called you again, didn’t they?”

 

I glanced at the carpet, at our bare feet. “They did.”

 

He tilted my chin up. “Mother’s guilt.”

 

“I don’t care,” I moped. “I just want to snuggle my

 

babies.”

 

“Ah baby,” he soothed, kissing my forehead.

 

“Finish your call.” I said, heading to shower.

 

“We’re home,” I called out slipping my shoes off at the front door.

 

 

It was evening, and the house was eerily quiet and dark. It matched John’s mood. He’d grown less talkative on our flight back home. The seductive charmer who’d seduced me in New Orleans hadn’t made the trip back home. He seemed distracted on the plane, even slightly irritated. I assumed it had something to do with business and the phone call I’d interrupted.

 

“It’s after nine. Everybody’s in bed,” he said following behind with our luggage. “Tomorrow’s a big day for the boys.”

 

“A big day?” I searched my memory, switching the foyer light on. “Remind me why?”

 

“Baseball,” he answered gruffly. “Tomorrow’s the first game. Nick’s pitching.”

 

We hadn’t talked much about the children in New Orleans. Not about their summer schedules. The last time I was been home was at least two weeks ago for Noah’s Kindergarten graduation. Before that, I’d spent two weeks on the west coast on a ten-city tour up the coast culminating in San Francisco. New Orleans was an unexpected addition to the schedule. So unexpected that Holly had had to pack for me and send the bag along with John.

 

“I haven’t looked over their schedules yet.” Holly kept them taped on top of my desk. She did that with all

 

 

important dates that I couldn’t possibly remember with my schedule.

 

Baseball had completely slipped my mind. John was coaching this year, the boys’ first, and they had been practicing in the backyard since the weather had broken. “I know there’s baseball and swimming. Noodle’s dance classes. I just need a couple of days to get settled back into our routine.”

 

“It hasn’t changed since you were home last,” John said. He started up the stairs with the luggage. “Coming?” he asked when I didn’t follow.

 

“In a minute,” I said. “I want to check on the house, make sure everything is where I left it. I’ll be there soon.”

 

He nodded and continued up the stairs with our

 

luggage.

 

There was always a readjustment period after being away, not only between John and I but also with the children. I’d forgotten because of the way we were in New Orleans. It was such an effortless thing to envelop myself in the attention of a husband who missed me. He had appreciated the time as much as I did. But, we were home now and the cold front had blown back in. I had stupidly forgotten that we had been arguing a little more than usual. He had made me forget so beautifully in New Orleans.

 

I tried very hard not to take any of it personally. I

 

 

missed everything about not being with them as much as they missed me. I always missed home, especially being there with the people who lived in that home. John had done a beautiful job of choosing this home for us, the same way he’d chosen the penthouse for Belle and I after Roman and I separated all those years ago. It was sizable but moderate. There was enough room for all the children and even the grandchildren. We’d incredible memories here, especially John and I. We had probably made love on every surface and in every room. I chose to remember those moments instead of the tense ones that kept creeping up.

 

I passed through the foyer into the dining room and continued onto the kitchen. This was my private ritual after each homecoming. I wanted to see and touch things. I needed to smell the children in each room, see the things they’d left disheveled in their paths. It made me feel a part of their days, even if I was miles from them.

 

Their favorite room in our house was the family room. It was the hub of all of their activities. It was also always the messiest room in the house. I saw imprints of all three of them when I entered the room that was just off the kitchen.

 

Nicky’s video game sat in the floor, a tangled mess of controllers and game cases in front of the mounted television. A cup of milk left by either Noodle or Noah sat on the end table.

 

 

Noah’s Transformer book bag was thrown on the sofa, its contents spilling out. Even John’s imprint was there in the form of the baseball jersey that he wore to watch games. It lay crumpled up in his reclining chair.

 

“Life goes on around here when you’re gone,” John had told me the last time I was home. It had hurt to hear it. We’d been in the middle of a quiet disagreement about how we would celebrate Noah’s graduation. I wanted a huge party until John pointed out how unfair of me it was to expect that when he’d be the person planning the event in my absence. He suggested a smaller gathering with the children from Noah’s class; a pool party so he that he could grill hotdogs and hamburgers in the backyard. I hadn’t disagreed with those plans. What I didn’t like was that he wanted to have the party while I was away. “Kids have plans,” he’d told me not too friendly. “Their lives don’t revolve around your crazy schedule.” He was right, of course. And he did have the pool party while I was in California with Holly and our eldest daughters’ help.

 

I was rinsing the cup of milk I’d taken from the family room after picking cleaning it up when I heard Holly come into the kitchen. She was carrying a manila folder pressed to her chest. Holly Lewis had spent the last three years shadowing my life. She was great at managing the big and small details.

 

 

She hugged me before handing me the folder.

 

“You’re doing the dishes?” She laughed, shaking her head. “After a romantic vacation, this is what you come home and want to do?”

 

I tossed the folder on the island and sat down on the stool. “Not exactly.”

 

Holly sat across from me. “I saw him on the stairs. He doesn’t seem to be in a pleasant mood.” Her voice was low, cautious. She spent enough time with John to read his moods as well as I did.

 

“I noticed.”

 

“Must be going around. Ben’s been impossible.” Ben was her husband. They had a little boy named Jake. “I haven’t been exactly running home after work.”

 

I didn’t know Ben as well as Holly, but she hinted at cracks in their five-year marriage often. She was half my age with a young son. I remembered those days of trying to balance a new marriage with children and work. It wasn’t any easier with age. I told her that as much as she’d listen. The therapist in me innately doled out advice because Holly seemed as though she needed and wanted to hear it.

 

She was a pretty woman who reminded John of Kim Delaney. Long brunette hair, gentle mouth and dark eyes. She

 

 

looked younger than her age especially standing near her husband, who was older by at least twelve years. He’d been her boss at one time. She’d lost her job as a result of their relationship and John, having known Ben through business, recommended Holly for the job with me.

 

“So how was it?” Her eyes flashed. She could look ten years younger just in the way she angled her face and squared her eyes. “Being locked away with your husband for all those uninterrupted hours must have been replenishing.”

 

“Replenishing,” I sighed. It had been just that. “That’s a great word. It was wonderful.”

 

“I bet.” Her finger curled imaginary lines across the marble island. “Too bad it didn’t last past the afterglow,” she said, watching her hands. They were tiny, like her frame.

 

“Yeah.” The weight of her words struck the pit of my stomach. “So, what’s this? From Yuri?” Yuri was my book agent.

 

Holly looked up. “He faxed over the new schedule. There were cities added, a possible trip to New York again.”

 

I closed my eyes. It could all be so suffocating. The touring and interviews, lectures. Sitting in my kitchen was a reminder of how much. “Yuri Waller will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m going upstairs to kiss my babies and try to put my husband in a better mood. How were the children?”

 

 

“The usual. Juliana being the boss with her brothers falling in line. She has a sleepover this weekend. She’ll need a gift for Stella, that’s the girl who’s birthday sleepover it is. I added it to her schedule. The boys were good. Noah missed you both a lot. Maybe when you’re away you could call every night? Just to put his mind at ease. He gets very fidgety still. I couldn’t get him to sleep alone. He spent last night in Nicholas’ room.”

 

“I think the daily calls are harder on them.” I’d tried it before when the touring was heavier. It had only just picked up steam again after my appearance on the Today show. “Noah has always taken absence harder than Nicky and Noodle. He’s the baby. It’s always harder on the baby.”

 

“I guess that’s true. Jake is a little clingy.”

 

“He’s two. That’s within range of his socialization skills. He only knows you.”

 

“Oh, but Ben is his world.” She said sarcastically.

 

I glanced at the time. “Speaking of Ben and Jake, you’d better go. It’s getting late. Thank you so much for being here.” I put my arm around her shoulders to guide her out of the kitchen. “You don’t have to come in tomorrow. I’ll handle the children. I’ll give you a call after I get my bearings

 

 

together.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

We hugged quickly and I locked the door behind her. Jogging up the stairs, I stopped to Nicky’s door first. Faint light poured into the room from the hall as I opened his door. I could barely make out his shape in the bed until he tossed an arm above his head. His feet were hanging over the edge of the bed.

 

I crept over and bent low to kiss his warm forehead. He didn’t budge. He never did. He was my hard sleeper who always needed more than one warning to get out of bed for school in the morning. Every time I went away and came home, he seemed to be an inch taller. He’d just completed second grade; he also played every sport he could except football. His father had yet to convince me that football was not as violent as I believed it to be. Not enough for me to feel comfortable allowing Nicky to play. Since his daddy John baseball, he was raising two little boys who also loved baseball. They usually watched games in a huddle together. This was the year that John would be able to share his expertise with them. And I’d forgotten, which is probably why he was so sharp when I’d forgotten about their game.

 

I covered Nicky’s legs and went to Noodle’s room. Her

 

 

dark hair covered her face, lit softly by the nightlight near her bed. I knelt at her canopy bed and inhaled her soft scent. She smelled like my perfume. She’d developed the same habit as her sisters at this age of ruffling through my vanity when I wasn’t around. Noodle, although she corrected me when I called her that now, was maturing quickly. She was eight going on sixteen, but still as sweet as the first day that I held her in my arms.

 

I’d all ready raised three girls. Her transition to break away and create her own identity, I understood. It was the pace that she wanted to transition at that I worried about. Our last conversation revolved around her wish to wear a color lip-gloss. She’d stomped away after I told her it was out of the question. She wasn’t angry anymore one of her voicemails to me had said when I was on the road. She apologized the way she always did. Her quick temper always reminded me of her father and Sami. Noodle was as quick to forgive as she was to get angry. Her brothers felt that temper more than I did but she also loved them fiercely. Noah especially. She was very protective of him, sometimes even with John and me.

 

I bent to pick up the iCarly book she’d been reading in bed. It had fallen face down on the floor. I kissed her forehead and placed the book on her desk. She was very neat and

 

 

organized. Nothing was out of place on her desk or in the bedroom. Stella’s invitation was tacked to the little cork board above the desk. She’d written it on her calendar in purple ink and drawn stars in the little box.

 

“Mama,” Noodle’s voice startled the quiet.

 

“Hi baby,” I whispered. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” She made room for me to sit on the edge of the bed. “Go back to sleep, sweetie. I’m home. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

“For how long?” she asked curling onto her side. “Three weeks.” I kissed her eyelids. She was barely

 

awake. “I love you. Good night.” She mumbled something I couldn’t hear and rolled over. “Love you.”

 

I pulled her door up a little and went to the room closest to ours. Noah’s bed was empty. I found him where I thought he’d be–curled in the center of my bed. He often found his way into our bedroom after we’d gone to sleep. He would climb gently between John and I letting his presence be known only after a leg or arm collided with our sleep.

 

I climbed into our bed beside Noah, snuggling into his warmth. His skin smelled faintly of blue raspberry bubble bath and sweat. He was growing taller but he was still small enough for these kinds of hugs. Tight, closed armed cuddles. Out of the three youngest, Noah was the most receptive to displays of

 

 

affection. He still fit nicely between the crook of my arms and my chest.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you Mama,” Noah said peeking up through his sandy eyelashes.

 

“You were faking Mama out, huh?” I nuzzled his neck until he laughed. “I thought you were sleeping.”

 

“I couldn’t. I wanted to see you.” He started giggling

 

again.

 

“Well I’m here now.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “You took forever, Mama.” “I didn’t mean to, Noah.” I kissed his hair. “But you still did.”

 

“Well, I’m here now and I’ll be here.” Satisfied with that, he relaxed against me. “Does your daddy know you’re in here?” I could hear John in the shower in our bathroom.

 

Another round of giggles began. He hid his face in my neck. “I faked him out. He thinks I’m sleep.” He lifted his finger to his mouth. “Don’t tell him.”

 

“Honey, I don’t think we can fool Daddy. He’s very

 

smart.”

 

“Smarter than you?” he asked, twirling the ends of my hair between his brown fingers.

 

I shook my head and held my finger against his lips.

 

 

“He doesn’t have to know it.”

 

Noah leaned back. His brown eyes lifted to mine. “Mama, you went to the ocean?”

 

Bodies of water were his new obsession. Sailing with his father fanned the obsession.

 

“I did. In California, and I stayed right on the beach. Remember when I talked to you and you heard the water in the background? That was the Pacific Ocean.”

 

“I remember.” He nodded. “We ran in it when we went to

 

Eric’s.”

 

We’d gone to California where Eric lived last summer for vacation. “We’ll go visit your brother again and stay in a house right by the Pacific Ocean. You’ll be able to hear it when you’re sleeping.”

 

“When?”

 

“Soon,” I brushed his nose with my lips.

 

“What’s soon?”

 

Noah and I looked up to see John standing in a towel. “Visiting with Eric so that Noah can run in the ocean again.” John looked a little more relaxed. “Feeling better?” I asked.

 

He ignored my question and focused his attention on Noah. “What are you doing up, kid?”

 

Noah shrugged.

 

 

“Waiting for me,” I answered pulling Noah closer.

 

“Can I sleep here?”

 

“Of course you can,” I answered before John could answer. “You have a big day tomorrow.” I caught John’s sinking gaze. “Daddy’s as excited as you and Nicky.”

 

“Daddy’s not playing.” Noah informed me as he threw his arms around my neck and got comfortable. “You coming to the game, Mama?”

 

“Yes my boy, Mama will be at your game yelling louder than Daddy.” I kissed his forehead and pulled him into a tight hug. “Mama will be around so much that you’ll get sick of me.”

 

“No way,” he giggled. “Daddy looks mad. Is he mad at me?” Noah whispered.

 

Our son was perceptive. “No, he’s tired,” I answered nuzzling into his cheek.

 

We were laughing and tickling until the phone on John’s side of the room rang. John walked stiffly over to his side of the bed and took a seat. His towel inched lower on his back. He grabbed the phone from its cradle sharing a couple of words with the caller before he turned to look over his shoulder. It was for me.

 

“Yuri.” He passed the phone over. “It’s a little late for business, don’t you think?” he asked without waiting for an

 

 

answer.

 

I held the phone watching John get up and walked towards the bathroom. Anger hardened his footsteps and tightened the muscles in his back and face. It was a face I didn’t recognize, so distracting that I couldn’t remember why I had the phone in my hand until Yuri called out to me.

 

“Is Daddy mad with you?” Noah asked.

 

“No,” I said, feeling the hairs stand at attention on my neck. “I don’t know who he’s upset with.” It was whispered and unheard by Yuri and Noah. We obviously needed more time readjusting. It was the only explanation that calmed my nauseated stomach.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Life As We Know It

 

Nature does not dictate that children are meant to know the entire geography of their parents’ lives. The moments when one act should have supplanted another, when a choice made without thought leaves indelible impressions upon the seams of a life– unfortunately, my children have never been spared. The truth has always been right out front for them to take in.

 

“Who is Alex?” The question floated so innocently from Noodle’s precious little mouth. She said his name as evenly as she would a friend’s name. As though he’d been a part of her life and memory.

 

I could never lie to them, not any one of them. Stalling to recover my breath was something I could do. “Honey, what made you ask that?”

 

 

Noodle shrugged. “Isn’t he Rachel’s dad?” She hadn’t looked up from her the menu in her hand to ask.

 

My silverware clanged against the ground. I was made immediately aware of the surroundings. Of the people. Their attention. “Yes, he is,” I answered softly.

 

We were sitting on the patio of Rachel’s favorite café waiting for her to arrive for lunch. Noodle and I had gone shopping for Stella’s birthday gift after Nicky and Noah’s baseball game. Never once did I get the indication that Alex North had taken root in her mind.

 

“I want pasta.” Noodle announced as casually as she’d asked about Alex. She looked across the wrought iron table, those brown eyes flickering with questions. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

 

A lump took hold of my throat. I sipped at my glass of water. “Noodle, first, can I ask you where you heard of Alex?” He was an open secret among the older children but we certainly hadn’t discussed him in front of the little ones.

 

She said without hesitation, “You.”

 

“Me? I’ve never spoken about him to you.”

 

“No,” she said looking around, “but you said it on

 

TV.”

 

I had. The majority of my television interviews had

 

 

consisted of acknowledging in painstaking detail the extent of Alex’s abuse. Oprah spent two segments alone focusing on exactly how I’d managed to marry what she called a “psycho” and then get away to create a life outside of his anger. We’d only brushed over my life with John and the children.

 

“Noodle, you’re not supposed to watch things that Daddy and I don’t know about.”

 

She looked puzzled. “I know you Mama.”

 

“Yes, but there are things about Mama that you don’t know. Things I would have liked to discuss with you once you’re older.”

 

“Mama, I’m not Noah.”

 

“No, you’re Noodle but you’re also too young to understand the kinds of things that happen between adults.”

 

She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Mama, not Noodle. Jules. I’m not a baby.”

 

“Okay, Jules, my little sweetheart…there are things that happened in my life, things that we’ll talk about one day. But now is not the time.”

 

She tossed her shoulders back. “I all ready know

 

anyway.”

 

I leaned forward and took her tiny hands between mine. “All you need to know is that I was once married to him-”

 

 

She interrupted, “Like you were married Sami and Eric’s father?”

 

“Yes,” I acknowledged uneasily, “but before that…”

 

“How many husbands do you have?” Complete strangers asking these questions weren’t as invasive as my eight-year-old daughter’s curiosity. Her father’s stubborn streak burning in every one. “I know you married Daddy two times,” she said touching the ring John had given me on our wedding day.

 

“Noodle…Jules, it’s difficult. You really won’t understand any of this. What matters most right now is that I’m with Daddy and we’re a family. Right? That’s really all that matters.”

 

“But Mama, Stella says that Alex hit you. That’s what her mommy told her. Did you get hit by the other husbands, too?”

 

“Okay, Juliana, that’s enough.” I said shakily. “We won’t discuss this now.” Our hands fell apart. She curled into her chair and crossed her bony arms over her chest. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed. “Really, honey, it’s just too difficult to discuss with you.” I spotted Rachel being led onto the patio by the hostess. “Your sister’s here,” I said grateful for my eldest daughter’s presence.

 

“Hi Mama.” Rachel folded into my arms, her thin frame encasing my own. “You look beautiful as always,” she said still

 

 

holding on tightly. “I missed you.”

 

“Thank you, baby. I missed you too.”

 

She let go, kissed my cheek and then went to Noodle to greet her. She persuaded her for a hug. “What’s up? You upset with me?” Rachel asked kneeling beside Noodle’s chair.

 

“Me,” I answered, sympathetically glancing at Noodle’s re-folded arms and pouty face.

 

Rachel kissed Noodle’s cheek and stood back up. “Well you look cute anyway, pout and all,” Rachel told her, taking the seat between us at our table.

 

“How’d the boys’ game go?”

 

“Great. Nicky’s so good out there. He’s so focused on the job. And John is in his element with those kids. I don’t think Noah liked it so much.” I smiled because he’d actually sat squat on the dirt when John put him in the outfield, out of boredom.

 

“They won,” Noodle added blandly.

 

“They did? That’s awesome. So when do I get to watch you play soccer? I heard you’re pretty good yourself, Jules.”

 

“Our first game is next week. You’re coming?” Noodle asked brightening up a little.

 

Rachel responded in kind, smiling. “Yes, I’m on vacation for two weeks. I’ll be there.”

 

 

“Good. I am pretty good,” Noodle added, her “John Black” pride shining. “Mama doesn’t know. She’s never seen me practice.”

 

This was Noodle’s first year in soccer and she was right. I hadn’t taken her to any practices or seen her kick one single ball. Soccer was a new thing. We’d been doing dance for a couple of years, but she seemed to be outgrowing it. “I’ll be there for your first game,” I assured her.

 

“Only that one?”

 

“Honey, we’ll see.”

 

“I know. Like always,” she continued pouting. Rachel interceded, “Hey, you’re having a really bad

 

day, huh?”

 

“I only wanted to know about your daddy, that’s all,” she retorted. “Mama doesn’t want me to know. Do you know your daddy?”

 

“Juliana,” I said sternly, concerned for Rachel’s

 

reaction.

 

She ignored the warning. “Do you?” her eyes pierced

 

Rachel.

 

Rachel’s emotions about Alex were still very raw. “Jules, I don’t remember my father at all.” Her eyes latched onto mine. We’d done some therapy together but Alex was a touchy

 

 

subject between us. He would always be that.

 

“Juliana, I want you to stop it right now. Okay?” I raised an eyebrow, staring with gentle reproach.

 

“Whatever.” She tossed out the word with complete disregard.

 

“Jules,” Rachel discouraged her with a head-shake. “No, Rachel, it’s fine. Juliana, do you understand?” “No,” she said honestly. “I don’t Mama.”

 

A silent moment passed between us, encompassing

 

Rachel.

 

I could understand the curiosity. If I could present my life to the world, why not to Noodle? A curious daughter wanting to understand her mother. Noodle was reaching toward the woman she would become, stepping out of my shadow. Rightfully. But, did my little girl, with no concept of love, anger, and pain as it related to marriage have a right to question me about Alex? She was eight. What did she need to know of abuse?

 

“Mama, I have some news,” Rachel spoke quietly, trying to settle the waves Julianna had made. “I’ve met someone. A very special someone.”

 

I sat back with a genuine smile. It was about time that she had. She was a very hard worker whose personal life was null and void. She spent all her free time with the children, or

 

 

with Sami and her children. She was a diligent aunt and sister. She loved being around them. We all loved having her in our lives, but I wanted her to have a family of her own one day too.

 

“Let’s order lunch and I’ll tell you all about him,” she said with a smile that reminded me of Alex.

 

I had to remind myself to breathe and see my daughter for who she was, not Alex’s daughter. She didn’t belong to him. She was all mine.

 

“Noodle and I had a little disagreement at lunch,” I shared with John dabbing a nude gloss across my lower lip.

 

I watched the flurry of his movements being reflected in the mirror of my vanity. I was getting ready for the party that my book agent Yuri had thrown together. John had only agreed to it because it was being thrown here at the house. He was pacing and trying to choose between the striped royal blue tie and the solid red tie in his hands. The panels of his shirt were pulled apart, baring the crinkly dark hair on his chest. He wasn’t wearing slacks, only a dark pair of boxers.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be hearing about it,” I added looking over my shoulder. “John? Did you hear me?”

 

 

He stopped pacing. “The blue one?” He held the tie up against the shirt.

 

I shook my head slowly. “I haven’t said anything about the tie, but the blue tie works. It matches your eyes.”

 

Eyes that were not on me. He tossed the red tie away and continued pacing.

 

“I said that your daughter and I had a disagreement at

 

lunch.”

 

“A disagreement? You and Jules?”

 

“Yes.”

 

John draped the tie around his collar and pulled the shirt panels together. “Isn’t that the usual with you and Jules these days?” He began buttoning his shirt.

 

That wasn’t the response I’d expected. “Do you hear yourself when you talk to me anymore? Why would say something like that?”

 

“Doc, it’s true,” he sighed. “Jules has been pissed with you for months. Are you just beginning to notice?”

 

His brash attitude and words assaulted the sensitive place where I held onto that mother’s guilt. It was starting to crowd the narrow span of my shoulders. Feeling too heavy to remain seated, I stood briskly.

 

“John…she’s not. She’s…”

 

 

“Disappointed?”He crossed one heel behind the other and allowed the wall to hold his weight; one arm folded over the other.

 

They all were disappointed. I’d have to be blind not to see it in their eyes. “Maybe a little, but that’s not what our disagreement was about.”

 

“Well what?”

 

“Alex,” I revealed. “She asked me about Alex.”

 

“What the hell does she want to know about North for?”

 

His expression shifted. “And what did you tell her?”

 

I hesitated, estimating the contempt rising in those pools of blue. “What do you think?”

 

“I know we said we wouldn’t talk about that with them. You said we should protect them from it.”

 

“I still say that.”

 

“Then what did you say to Jules?” he asked trying to maintain a low tone.

 

“I didn’t tell her anything and that’s why she’s upset with me.” Much harder than her asking was that John believed I would answer her. “Did you really think I’d lay all of that before Noodle?”

 

He didn’t hesitate in saying, “You don’t have a problem sharing it with a million others.”

 

 

Paralyzed by the callous edge of John’s words, I turned on my heel and walked out of his presence. I went into the bathroom to get ahold of my emotions. There were people gathering downstairs to celebrate the second printing of my book: friends, my New York editor, Ingrid, Yuri, and John’s business associates. I didn’t have time for the appropriate reaction to whatever had lodged itself between John and I since we’d returned from New Orleans.

 

One night, one day–we hadn’t even spent a full hour in the same place face-to-face communicating about anything other than the children. Those conversations were pleasant. The children were usually within earshot. Now, they were away, Nicky and Noodle were spending the night with their respective friends. Noah’s godmother Edie had taken him for the night. She was the only person who could get him to leave my side after my long absences.

 

I checked my wrist. I didn’t have time to hide out in there. I couldn’t be rude to my guests. They were expecting me to give a reading in less than twenty minutes. I made a decision to ignore the tension and John for the next couple hours. I walked back into the bedroom expecting to see him but he was gone. I grabbed the dress that Holly and I had decided would look best from the bed where she had laid it. It was the color

 

 

of fresh dandelions. A vivid yellow that complimented my tan. I sat down on the bed and slipped the soft material

 

slowly up my body.

 

“I want to apologize,” John said, peeking his head into our bedroom. “I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re as protective of the kids as I am. I don’t know where that came from.” He stopped short of passing the doorframe. “Honey?”

 

I had stood to pull my dress over my upper body. It hugged me in all the right places. I sat back down and pulled on my heels. I was purposefully taking my time to avoid looking into his face.

 

“Doc?” He didn’t move from the doorframe.

 

A hurricane gripped my belly. “I know you’re upset with me,” I told him. “And it’s frustrating because I don’t exactly know why. I mean I know why, I can understand why.”

 

“I’m not upset with you, Doc.” He stalked over to our bed and took my hand into his lap. His hands were clammy. They were trembling. “Baby, I’m so proud of you. I just have so many things on my mind. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m married to the sexiest woman in the world. The total package. I’m proud to be at your side through all of this. Of course it gets frustrating, but don’t question my support of you.”

 

John pushed my hair aside to slant a kiss against the

 

 

side of my neck. To calm both our drumming hearts, to avoid going downstairs into a crowd of people pulsing with discord. I wanted to believe the sanctity in his words, but I couldn’t dismiss the hollowness plaguing them. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him; John was one of the most honest men I knew, in every way. That’s why I couldn’t fully accept his explanation. Even if he thought he was being truthful, his body, his actions, spoke louder than words.

 

I told him as plainly as I knew how, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” He answered, cupping my face between his clammy hands to kiss me roughly. “I don’t want to do anything to lose you. I can’t lose you,” he whispered pressed against my lips.

 

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere.” I told him running my fingers over the hard cords of muscle in his back. “Honey,” I whispered, bent to the rim of his ear, “you’re shivering. What is it? Tell me.”

 

“Marlena,” his voice came out as tiny as a thought. He pulled me into his lap. “Honey, I love you so much.”

 

“I know,” I said, looping my arms around his neck. “I love you the same. Now, tell me.”

 

“Baby,” he laid his cheek on my chest. “There has never been anyone like you in my life. I can’t-” words seemed to

 

 

be failing him inexplicably.

 

I felt his turmoil, deep in the pit of my stomach. Nerve endings stood with the obedient stiffness of good soldiers. Dark lashes swept his cheek. “You can’t hide from me because I am you,” he used to say. And when we tried, when either of us thought we could protect the other from a terrible truth, our failing was miserable. He knew that as well as I. He believed it as much as I.

 

“You know that you can tell me anything,” I reminded him. Anything under the sun. I wouldn’t leave; I’d promised too many people, including him. I didn’t know anything overwhelming enough to untie the bond we’d shared over the years.

 

I lifted his firm chin, forced our eyes to meet. “Anything.”

 

A soundless second or two passed before Holly interrupted. Everything that I had pulled from John, the warmth and opening into his inner restlessness, fell back into a hard composure. He went rigid with Holly’s shadow darkening our bedroom door. She was standing there with her face distorted with confusion. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen us this way–intimately embraced. She was no stranger to our public displays of affection. I suspect she may have walked in on our privates moments a time or two as well. John’s reaction to her

 

 

intrusion was puzzling.

 

“Holly, can you give us a minute?”

 

John rubbed my arm, pecked the curve of my jaw and slid me from his lap. “Later,” he stood, letting his hand fall into the familiar space of my lower back. “We’ll do this later, when you have more time.”

 

“John,” I touched his shoulder. “Wait, I’ll make

 

time.”

 

“No. We’ll do this later when we’re alone.” He kissed my wrist and then brushed past Holly as he left the room.

 

“I’m sorry,” Holly shrugged, “for my bad timing. I came because Yuri’s here. He and Ingrid just arrived.”

 

“It’s fine, Holly. Thanks. Just give me a minute.” My heart hadn’t slowed yet. John’s disheveled state was unnerving. “I’m going to check my face and hair, and then I’ll be down.”

 

Holly smiled. She grabbed my hand. “You always look beautiful, Marlena.”

 

“Thanks,” I returned her smile. “I’ll be there

 

shortly.”

 

“This is our golden girl,” Yuri announced holding the small of my back. “We’re all here to celebrate her. Can we lift our

 

 

glasses for a toast?”

 

Yuri’s hand–slender, clutching, and nervy–felt strange. It was only a fraction of John’s, and very unfamiliar. The triangular opening in my dress exposed the length of my back. John’s touch was the only one that didn’t leave any foreign discomfort along my skin. But he was on the other side of the room though all of his attention were with me. The men who were gathered around him didn’t notice the division of his attention. They were so enthralled by the sounds of their own voices that they continued speaking and gesturing about. Every now and again, John’s head tipped respectfully to their words as he sipped his glass of scotch.

 

Yuri was also unaware of John’s scrutiny. If he could read John as I could, the ease of his touching would scurry away. John’s jealousy–marriage or no marriage–would never disappear. It lurked, waiting patiently to strike when conjured. Yuri and I had been alone many times on the road which made John ask questions about the kind of man that Yuri was. I’d expected them. John knew that I wouldn’t, couldn’t become that woman–a selfish, lust-driven heap of emotions–for anyone except him. One affair and a near-miss affair were enough for a lifetime.

 

John’s questions didn’t show mistrust of me. They were due to his mistrust of men, of men like Yuri who lived their

 

 

entire lives untied to anyone or anything other than their jobs and bank accounts. Yuri didn’t have a wife or children. He’d never been married and he was exactly John’s age. He was also good looking with dark Mediterranean arrogant features. A calculating New York personality.

 

The circle around Yuri and I tightened. Glasses were raised and Yuri mumbled a couple words of congratulations on the success of the book. My editor Ingrid had flown in from New York. She walked from the crowd and touched her champagne flute to mine.

 

“Congratulations, Marlena.” She air-kissed both sides of my face. “You look stunning. I love this look on you.” Her own style was minimal, very structured but hipster. A mild-mannered woman with brown hair that was cut into a razor sharp bob.

 

“Thank you, Ingrid. You look great, too. Thanks for flying in.”

 

“I love celebrating our bestselling authors, Marlena. Yuri’s right. You’re our golden girl.”

 

“Aren’t you sweet, thanks.”

 

“Now,” she looked about the room, “where is your gorgeous husband? I haven’t seen him yet. And the children?”

 

“John’s over there,” I gestured behind the milling

 

 

crowd. “He’s engrossed in business or maybe they’re talking baseball. The children are all out tonight. They have social lives, if you can believe that.”

 

“I do,” she laughed. “My little ones’ social calendar is fuller than my husband’s and mine.”

 

“It’s frightening, isn’t it?”

 

“For us Mama bears, it is indeed,” Ingrid agreed.

 

“Enough about the domesticities, ladies. It’s

 

depressing the single man in me.”

 

Ingrid cupped Yuri’s cheek maternally. “There’s only one cure for that kind of depression.”

 

“A nice stiff drink?” Yuri deadpanned before swallowing his champagne.

 

“Well there is always that,” Ingrid laughed. “Okay, I’m going to mingle. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it, kiddo. Join me Yuri, please.”

 

“I will.”

 

A hand curved over my shoulder. “Hello Marlena.” I turned to Holly’s husband, Ben. He hugged me softly. “You look gorgeous.”

 

“Thank you.” I accepted a chaste kiss from him on my

 

cheek.

 

“My wife puts together a great party, doesn’t she?” he

 

 

said with a hint of unpleasantness.

 

I smiled uncomfortably. The hollowness of his words were a reminder. Of John. Something familiar clouded Ben’s nickel-colored eyes. He wasn’t a large man, not in height or weight, but he seemed to be sinking. Defeated. This man who controlled a large corporation appeared as though he needed a lifejacket to stop flailing in the waves tossing him about. The last time I’d seen him, his hair hadn’t been as gray as it now was.

 

We weren’t friends enough to warrant the question that burdened my tongue. Are you all right? I wanted to ask. “How’s Jake,” I asked instead. It was the safer inquiry.

 

His eyes lit up and the dourness lifted from his face. “He’s a great kid. The one redeeming thing about my life.”

 

“Children have that special magic.” I reached out to touch him. “They are a beautiful gift.”

 

He said simply, “Yeah. He is.” He covered the hand I’d placed on his chest. “John’s a very lucky man.”

 

“I am,” John’s voice barreled behind us. I hadn’t heard or felt him until the wall of his body cemented against mine. His hand, feverish and heavy, held my hip. He placed the other across my stomach. “What are you guys talking about? It looks serious,” he addressed Ben.

 

 

I tilted my neck to look back at him as much as his hold would allow. “Jake,” I said honestly. Choked by his possession, I covered his hand. Ben and John were friends. Business associates. He’d been to our house many times, and we’d gone out together as a foursome.

 

“Ben, is everything okay?” John asked.

 

Ben took a breath. “Isn’t it always? I’m fine, John. I was just telling your wife what a lucky man you are. Look at her,” Ben’s eyes ran the entire length of my body, “she’s stunning, loyal, faithful. Appreciate her, John.”

 

John’s hold hardened. “I do appreciate her, man. I love this woman. She knows it.”

 

“Yes, I do,” I added, unwinding from John’s grip. “She’s a keeper,” Ben said tilting his head to kiss my

 

cheek again.

 

John allowed the kiss, and then pulled me closer to him, away from Ben. “She is and she is all mine.” His words were coated with scotch.

 

“I’m going to find my wife,” Ben announced, rushing

 

away.

 

I turned to face my husband. “Don’t ever do that again.” I whispered. I didn’t wait for a response. I walked away while I was still in control.

 

 

Yuri and Ingrid had pleaded for a reading prior to setting up the party. Whenever I promoted the book, readings were expected but standing in my own house, it felt intrusive. All eyes were cast upon me. John’s being the only pair I couldn’t ignore.

 

I opened the book the place I’d decided to read and took a deep breath. Yuri had placed a stool in the center of our dining room that was glowing in soft candle light. They had created a circle around me.

 

“He didn’t begin his part in my life in the role of monster. He came into the fold as a friend. A dear friend with kindness and warmth. The monster came after I’d all ready fell in love.” This was the part that was so misunderstood. I’d shared it and shared it, but still could see the disbelief in the faces of anyone listening.

 

“You don’t marry a monster. The real monster shows up long past too late. I would have had to look very closely at his behavior to have seen. But I was a people-pleasing twenty-something year old girl. I was away from home for the first time. My twin–the person I’d shared my entire life with up

 

 

until that point–had gone away to live her own life. I had been broken by the unhealthy relationship I had with my professor. All of these things made me ripe for ex-husband. He saw the need pouring out of my skin. He heard the fear whenever I spoke. I couldn’t have been any more naïve.

 

“I know this will shock you,” I continued to read my words aloud, “but I loved him. I wanted to be everything he needed and wanted me to be. It wasn’t even something I thought about. I just knew that if I did this, if I could be this person, he would want me and love me. The truth was that I didn’t love myself and having someone say with complete conviction ‘I love you’ meant that I didn’t have to then.

 

“The first time I truly met him, I thought to myself, here is a man with everything in line. He was so orderly, so compelling, and protective. He found me crying. That was our introduction. I’d seen him in classes and heard him speak but he’d never said a word to me, never showed that he was interested in me. That day, my professor had finally admitted that he was married and he was not going to leave his wife. Then he asked me to keep our relationship a secret. He told me that his wife and children depended on his job and if I told anyone about us he could lose his job.

 

“I felt awful for him, more than myself. I would get

 

 

over this, I kept saying to myself. He would be destroyed. See, how the people pleasing role imprisons. I didn’t even consider myself in the equation. Only him. Well my ex-husband had heard our conversation somehow. And after the man who I’d been seeing for weeks left me to deal with our affair, crying in the back stairwell of the Psychology building, he appeared like a white knight. He sat down beside me on that top stair and wrapped his arms around my shoulder. Without words, he allowed me to crumble in his lap while he stroked my hair. He held on until I stopped shaking and then he lifted me up, took my hand, and walked us out of the building. He never said a word. He simply walked me to his car, opened the door and drove us to the diner where students congregated at off campus. Monsters don’t save you from collapse. That’s exactly how easy it was to love him.”

 

I closed the book.

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

No Safe Place

 

I knew that frozen and faraway look, staring at images unseen except by the sharp rounded focus of his blue eyes, content in their surveillance. He stood in the pale light of the moon remaking memories that belonged to me, and through some cruel transference that belonged now to him. He couldn’t sanitize them anymore than I could. He wanted them vanquished.

 

Hearing about Alex, the life I lived with Alex, was painful for John. A raw pain that threatened the peace he tried to keep about it. He’d admitted years ago that he would always be jealous of any man who’d been a part of my life. He made his peace with Don and Roman. He could live with them on the

 

 

peripheral of our life, tolerating their presence as friends with boundaries. Ex-husbands who abided John’s overprotective nature, who respected our marriage, and allowed the past to remain there. John could make an intimidating husband when provoked. But he couldn’t intimidate a ghost. Alex didn’t abide by John’s rules. He always seemed to be there.

 

I’d written my book with John’s blessing, with our family’s blessing. I think I might have written it even without their approval. Some things were just for me, my memories and how I dealt with them weren’t up for the approval or forgiveness of others. I dug deep for two years to recover all that I thought had been lost. Two painstaking years of recovering things about myself that most people wouldn’t allow themselves to then share. It was enough to be able just to remember carrying Rachel in my womb. Or that I’d named her from a story in the bible: “Rachel was lovely in form and beautiful.” She became the something greater than all the horrible things Alex put us through. My own beautiful but I had to accept that the harsher moments had to accompany the precious ones. My book, a love letter to Rachel and all the other women who survived their Alex, was healing.

 

The one person who I thought should understand the book hadn’t even read the first chapter. Tonight, I realized, he

 

 

hadn’t had a choice except to listen.

 

John had swallowed a mouthful of scotch after I finished my reading.

 

I stopped counting his drinks after the fourth. I knew there were more. Over the evening, he’d withdrawn into a sullen silence. Our interrupted discussion occupied my thoughts, but only when I looked around for John and found him in a corner nursing a drink. He’d been in this mood before I read a word from my book.

 

Watching him had became a secret habit. He had been the watcher for years in our relationship. The one who took careful glances in the unawareness of others, relaying a secret intimate message meant just for me. There were times that I felt uncovered just in the way he looked at me. I had learned to appreciate a man who could express love without words, without alerting everyone around us. When we first met, I found this uncomfortable. I’d catch him watching me doing the most inane activity–cooking, sleeping, or thinking–and be undone by the attention until he told me why. He liked to watch me so that he could ‘see’ me without the shiny wrapping. To catch a glimpse of the me I assumed nobody knew of, the true soul without the shell.

 

He turned from the window he’d been aimlessly staring

 

 

through with a slack smile. The alcohol firing through his veins relaxed him, like a seasoned trainer holding the lounging tiger back. An hour before, he’d been among crowds of people who sympathized with the uncomfortable position of listening to my reading. A consoling stroke of his back, a tipped head from other husbands had placed him in a role he never found easy. That of victim. Someone who couldn’t do anything to respond to another’s violence. It wasn’t his nature.

 

He’d retreated into his darkened office. Away from our guests, who’d since left–perhaps away from me. He’d slipped benevolently out of the room while someone else had my attention. Holly had noticed his absence before I could. She’d even offered to find him but I knew his disappearance wasn’t meant as cruelness and told her to let him be. He wanted to breathe without all eyes trying to discern his mood, how he was handling the details filling the room under the soft near-whisper of my voice. I understood.

 

He was this unreachable island on the other side of the dark room. “They’re all gone,” I said from the doorway. He hadn’t moved toward me, instead he sat on the seat of the window.

 

“Finally,” he murmured. The white of his eyes were glassy in the moonlight. He smiled over the rim of the glass

 

 

drinking until all of the scotch disappeared down his throat. He pulled the glass away from his lips and held onto it. “Party was a success, Dr. Evans,” he announced too loudly. “I’m proud of you. A drink to celebrate?” He lifted the glass ceremonially.

 

“A drink?” I asked unsure if the request was sincere. I’d had two glasses of champagne. Those drinks didn’t have half the impact that John’s obviously had. “No, I don’t think so.” I took three small steps into the room. My feet were bare against the cool wooden floor. I’d left my shoes outside in the hall.

 

“Have I reached my limit?” he asked. “You’re looking at me like I have, Doc.” He set the glass beside him on the windowpane. “I know that look.”

 

“What look is that, honey?”

 

The room was dark. Only shadows told of the presence of the things surrounding us: a desk, chair, couch, and computer. The desk split the room into halves. It sat between us.

 

“Do you mind if I turn on the lamp?” I moved before he answered tugging on the gold chain beneath the green-globed lamp cover on his desk. A small oval of light glowed over the lower half of his face.

 

He rubbed his cheek and used the window frame to help him stand. He wasn’t drunk; he had more self-control than that

 

 

but he didn’t posses his usual suaveness. He sunk into the chair behind the desk and assumed acute control of his body. He stiffened his back against the chair and arms along the leather-covered rests. The starless sky hovered over his shoulders. Blankets of vague darkness. It had started raining and the water pellets struck rapid beats against the window.

 

“The look that says something about disappointment,” John said, picking up the conversation. “Have I disappointed you with my behavior?”

 

“What behavior?” I asked cautiously.

 

“Hiding like a coward,” he grunted.

 

I folded my arms over my chest. Coward. That wasn’t a word I could use to describe John often. “Is that what you’re doing now? Hiding?”

 

“I don’t know, Doc. Maybe,” he sighed heavily. “I’ve got a thousand emotions running through me.” He dropped his head roughly against the headrest.

 

“We can deal with them,” I said finally feeling freedom to leave the spot I’d been standing. I had an intense need to be nearer to him. I walked around the desk and put my hand on his shoulder.

 

John covered my hand and looked up into the shadows of my face. He laughed softly. “The benefits of being married to a

 

 

shrink.” The laughter felt heavier than his hand, falser.

 

I leaned down and nestled my face against his hair. His scent filled my nose. A mix of shampoo, scotch and sweat. He draped his arm around me and began rubbing my back at our awkward angle. The quiet blended peacefully with the rain. Whatever he was thinking, I allowed him to continue because of the incredible way it felt being wrapped up with him in the dark, secluded room. It couldn’t last, but as long as I held him, it did.

 

I pulled away first, touching his hands to ask for freedom to move out of his hold. He lowered his arms and sat deeper into the chair. I sat on his desk in the center directly over him, so that our knees touched and I had a good vision of his countenance. The hem of my dress inched higher. I felt the chill of the wood under my thighs and the burn of John’s eyes between my panty-clad center, now on partial display.

 

John licked his lips, contemplating his words. He stared at me for a moment before asking, “You believe anything can be worked and talked through, don’t you?”

 

“I have to,” I said firm but gently. “I’ve devoted my life to doing that work. I have a lot of faith in communication.”

 

He exhaled. The rush of hot air flared his nostrils.

 

 

“Communication isn’t the problem,” he said sadly.

 

I didn’t like that word problem. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t know how to stop picturing us apart. I didn’t know where that sudden vision had come from. I curved my hands over the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “Then what? You’ve been trying to tell me something for a long time now. I can see it on your face. What I don’t understand is what’s so hard to talk about with me. I’m your wife, remember? I share my life with you.”

 

He bent forward a little. His eyes took hold of mine. There were moments like these when the man I loved folded into the abandoned little boy, when his wholeness splintered into pieces. As confident as he was, he could be just as vulnerable. And afraid. So very afraid of losing or being lost. The look of a child who looked away from his mother for just a pinch of a second and then, through no faults of anyone’s, the child and mother was lost to each other.

 

I raked through his soft dark hair. Sometimes he just needed to be touched and reminded that he wasn’t lost anymore. I could bring him back to me, away from his blank memories of loss, with that touch. I’d done so many times; I expected that I would forever. Anchored together, indissolubly. I wore his ring. I bore his children. I let every wall I’d ever erected as

 

 

protection fall in favor of him. I could penetrate his walls as easily as he’d knocked mine down. I knew the places inside of him, even if he didn’t, that needed to be healed.

 

He spoke with a pain I recognized. “When you talk about Alex, I can’t even imagine a man being that cruel to you,” he said bowing his head over my lap.

 

I smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck. “Honey, that’s over.”

 

His breath saturated my skin. “Not when you relive it. And you relive that life every time you talk about it.”

 

“It helps me to talk about it, John,” I said sounding more motherly than spouse.

 

“It hurts me.” His voice was low.

 

I lifted his head. “I know it does and I’m sorry about that but this is what I have to do to stop hurting. I couldn’t heal from it until I spoke it aloud. The shame didn’t go away until I was able to talk openly about it.” I muffled into his hair as I circled his neck. “I’m sorry this hurts so badly.”

 

“How could you love a man like that?” He said nearly inaudibly. “You said it was easy. You said he saved you.”

 

Tears slid down my cheek and found a home in John’s hair. “He did, John,” I said, closing my eyes. I was glad that I didn’t have to look into his eyes as I said, “And you ask how I

 

 

could love him so easily. It’s the same way I could love you. It just happened.”

 

His tone hardened. “I’m not Alex.”

 

“No,” I pulled back quickly and looked him directly in the eyes, “you’re John. My husband. Alex was another lifetime, honey. I’m here with you. That’s all I want. It’s all I’ll ever need.”

 

He wiped my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Softly, the way he did when Noodle skinned her knee or Noah had a bad dream. “I know that, but when I hear you talk about the way he,” he swallowed hard, “hurt you. He left bruises on your skin.” He traced lines in my skin, looking as if he’d see those bruises develop right before his eyes. He stroked my cheek and let his fingers walk slowly down the column of my neck. A kiss followed the path of those fingers, against my throat. The other side of my neck. My lips. I closed my eyes, falling into John’s pawing, capable hands.

 

His kisses were drenched with scotch. I ignored it and opened my mouth for more. Our tastes merged in the collision of our sparring tongues. A strong hand closed over my neck. I breathed him in; he was the only thing I breathed and smelled, felt. I could hear the rain in the distance. I couldn’t hear myself but I knew sounds came through my widened mouth. I heard

 

 

John loudest. He sang my name hoarsely. Over and over. He closed my face between his coarse palms and started kissing me until I was dragged onto his lap from the desk.

 

“I can’t breathe,” I whispered into his mouth. “I can’t…” My knees were straddling his thighs in the chair digging into the leather. When I fell into his lap, my dress had climbed up over my backside and settled around my hips. “Wait, give me a minute,” I said, touching two fingers to his lips as I let my haunches support my weight. “We need to talk, don’t we?” I didn’t really know. The only certainty I possessed sitting on his lap was that we were going to cave into that familiar need to make love. He was solid under my thighs. My own sex was throbbing, a pooling spring that soaked the seat of my panties.

 

“I know I’ve been unreachable the last couple of days,” he whispered coming back toward my lips. “I just need you so badly right now.” He took another kiss. A hard one that sent a trickle of blood down the center of my bottom lip.

 

I winced and made a wounded noise. It stopped John. He sat back, his chest rising and falling as I licked at the coppery taste of my lip. “I hurt you,” he said, as if he hadn’t ever realized the wholeness of his strength. We weren’t strangers to wounds inflicted during lovemaking, but this time, it startled him. He ran his finger delicately over my lip. “I’m

 

 

sorry.”

 

Terror struck me looking at his face. “John,” I stroked his forehead. “I’m afraid,” I admitted.

 

“Of me?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know.” I lowered my eyes. It was truthful but I couldn’t handle the wounded way John had stared back at me. He’d stopped touching me. I felt empty, unworthy. “Not of you,” I edited. “Never of you.”

 

I swooped closer to him. Ignored the sting of my lip for the depths of his mouth. I didn’t know where my confession had come from but it stymied the air. Preventing the words I was holding forcefully back, I entered that place where nothing existed beyond fulfilling the rising tide of pleasure. It didn’t take much for John to join me there. The alcohol and exploration of my hands easily led him back.

 

I slowed down, savoring the beauty of his moving tongue and hands. They both manipulated hungry parts of my body. He dragged my earlobe between his teeth until it tinged with pain and then licked the spot to quell it. His tongue flicked at the spot behind my ear connected to the nerve between my legs. My flesh grew warmer under his handling, under the slow stroking of his hands. He grabbed handfuls of the globes of flesh hugging his thighs and pulled me flush to his chest.

 

 

He nestled his face between my breasts, nipping at the skin with his teeth. I held his head in place. My own head fell backwards involuntarily. It was all I could do not to move my panties aside to welcome the bulge straining against my legs. He slowly unzipped my dress and pulled the material down off my shoulders.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he told me drinking in the sight of my uncovered breasts. Holding them in both hands, he kissed each tenderly before concentrating on the darkened skin of my nipples. His tongue painted the circle around them, and then pulled at them with his teeth. He was careful not to be too rough with one of the most sensitive parts of my body. Content with teasing and biting, he lavished inordinate attention.

 

I needed to touch him but he was still fully clothed. I sat squat on him, more than half-naked, squirming against the rough fabric of his pants. Lovemaking was a partnership.

 

Sometimes we shared the role of leader, but always together, we worked. It was unfair to have him touching and kissing my naked flesh while his body remained hidden in clothes.

 

“Honey,” I wet my lips, still savoring his teasing my nipples. “I want you undressed…now.”

 

He looked up with a lazy grin. “Now, huh?”

 

I nodded. “Right now.” He kissed my neck before

 

 

falling back to give me room to start unbuttoning his shirt. I undid the first button, kissed the exposed skin and moved onto the next until the panels of his shirt lay opened. I pulled it off his shoulders and tossed it on the floor. The crinkled hair prickled the tips of my fingers as I caressed him.

 

“Is that better?” he asked.

 

“Much,” I said, taking his nipple into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. “Are you ever going to make love to me?” I asked, moving across to his other nipple.

 

His laugh came deep from his belly and rumbled against my lips. “Maybe if you’re really good.”

 

I looked up from his chest. “I’m really good,” I said cocking my eyebrow. “Really, really good.”

 

He ran his finger over my lip and I dragged it into my mouth, sucking the tip. “I can’t figure you out. Every year, hell every day, every time I get anywhere near you, you get sexier. How do you do it?” he asked conspiratorially.

 

I looked heavenward and pulled his finger from my mouth. “You. Or didn’t you know that. It’s you.”

 

He stroked my torso, sending ripples of delight down my sides. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed some air harshly. “It’s a good thing your children aren’t home,” he whispered helping me stand.

 

 

I stepped back and stared down at him. “Why is that?” “Because we’re about to make love louder and harder

 

than we have in a long time.”

 

I felt myself blush. “It is a good thing then.”

 

“Come here,” he said, using his finger to guide me as he swiveled his chair away from the desk. “I want to see all of you. Take this dress off.”

 

I stood in front of him and he reached to help slide my dress over my hips and down my legs. I stepped out of the dress and stood before him, naked save my underwear, in the dimness. They were low-cut and lacy. My skin peeked through the rosebuds in the black fabric. It was impossible not to feel decadent and sexy standing in the moonlight with John’s eyes crawling the length of my body.

 

With John, there were no inhibitions. He loved my body. He’d taught me to love it as well, as more than a vessel for children and working. It was his temple and at it, he worshipped. I didn’t care about the years of children at my breasts or lines crowding my stomach or thighs because John didn’t. He’d made me secure in the knowledge and appreciation of my body. The years hadn’t been unkind. I did work to stay in shape but I suspect it wouldn’t matter either way with him.

 

I thought back to the moment when I’d said I was

 

 

afraid. My fear was anybody’s fear. That moment between knowing and unknowing. It wasn’t the first time while making love that I’d felt this fear bubbling.

 

The affair I had with John had taught me this fear of being too close to someone. So close that you couldn’t control yourself or your actions in their magical presence. I didn’t blame him anymore. I had wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. It was just too much to resist him. On that plane and conference room table, we learned that we weren’t in control. That terrified me more than even Roman finding out. I couldn’t stop wanting John on top of me and inside of me. I couldn’t forget the shape of his scorching hands coming over me like a storm, or how he filled me completely up.

 

There we were, coming apart together, forgetting formality and rightness for the sweet moments in each other’s arms. What was scarier, I learned only recently, was that with John on that plane and conference room table, I was more myself than I’d ever been in my life. I was the woman he could make love to anywhere. I wanted to be her. I just hadn’t been brave enough to say so then. Freeing her always frightened me. It was still frightening to know that with John I didn’t own myself or my body. He did.

 

“You were always the one,” I said sparked by the quiet

 

 

reflection I’d been in until John’s fingers slipped into the back of my underwear.

 

“So are you.” He kissed my bellybutton and turned me around to do the same to the small of my back. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said with his nose and mouth pressed against my back.

 

I turned back to him. “I know, John. I’m not. I had a moment.” It had passed. The only thing I felt was the dampness between my thighs. And John’s hands, his seeking fingers taunting my skin. “Don’t hold it against me, honey. I miss you so much. This book tour is hell. Being away from you and our babies is more than I bargained for but I am home with you and I love you. I love us. I need us, John. I need us.”

 

He drew me to him and I went down on my knees. We were face to face again. The glassy cast hadn’t left his eyes but something else had arisen. Lust. He began kissing me with urgency, tangling fingers in my hair as he stole my breaths. He opened his legs and I moved between them.

 

“You know you’re not the only one who needs,” he told me. “This tour is killing me, Doc. I don’t want you not to do it. I just want you all to myself. I feel lost when you’re not here. Like I’m not myself.”

 

“I know. You’ve been so distant with me lately, but I

 

 

don’t care. I feel you right now here with me,” I hugged him close. “I miss you so much when I’m away that I can’t stand to even pick up the phone to call you. That’s another kind of torture, hearing your voice without being near you. I don’t know how to sleep when you’re not against me.”

 

“Doc, shh…” he slanted a finger across my lips. “I love you.”

 

I smiled and moved my hands to his lap. “I love you, too. I also love when your hands are all over me. And,” I unbuttoned his pants and pulled at his zipper, “when you look at me the way you are now.” I reached into the slit in his boxers to run my fingers the entire length of his shaft. I grabbed tightly and pulled him through the slit. I kissed his tip and then took it into my mouth.

 

“Wait,” he jerked. “Baby, not that tonight.”

 

I looked up, puzzled. “Honey, I want to,” I said. I’d never had to plead before. It was a natural act of our lovemaking. He enjoyed the intimacy of being tasted by the woman he called wife. He told me years ago that all men did. It wasn’t the unnatural act that Alex’d called it. It was love, a deeper expression of our love. “I haven’t had you this way in a long time.” He’d stopped me in New Orleans, too. He’d woken up with my face between his thighs kissing and licking at him. His

 

 

reaction was quick, even cold; he pulled me from his lap and quickly gotten out of bed. “Don’t I please you this way anymore?” I asked timidly.

 

He sighed. “Doc, of course you do. It’s not that. I just want this to be about you. I’ve been such an ass lately.” He heaved me into his lap, crushing my back to his chest. “Everything you do pleases me. Everything,” he kissed the back of my neck. “I just want this night to be about you.” His hand slid down my stomach into the banding of my underwear. My legs parted with ease. “Did I do this?” He murmured against my neck.

 

I reached behind me to wrap an arm around his neck. “Yes,” I moaned, dropping my head over his shoulder. He cupped a breast while rubbing the dampness between my legs. He parted the moist folds of skin and began using my wetness to circle the exposed nub. “Right there…god, honey, right there,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.”

 

“Do you love me?” he asked.

 

I nodded indolently.

 

“Say it,” he said. I didn’t know where my voice had gone when I tried to use it. “Doc, I want to hear you say it again.”

 

“I…love…” I panted, half out of my mind with pleasure. He slid two curved fingers into me and began thrusting

 

 

them along with his circular massage.

 

“Who?” He asked with an unmissed edge.

 

“You,” I managed to cry out. “Baby, only you.” I bit into my lip feeling the familiar waves lifting in my stomach. I couldn’t contain myself, the assault of his fingers and the soft wet kisses drenching my neck tightened the muscles in my stomach. I writhed against his lap. My hips moved of their own volition to his rhythm. I jerked, my orgasm physically hitting me before I could mentally grasp it. I tensed and swallowed gulps of air as John continued massaging me.

 

“How did that feel?”

 

I chuckled, still panting. “Like you have to ask.” I turned my face and dropped my arm. “I love when you do that to me.”

 

He kissed my cheek. “I’m not finished.” He patted my hip and helped me find my balance on shaky legs. I was a sticky trembling mess. He reached and I went into the circle of his arms.

 

We stood under the moon sort of slow dancing to a distant song. I put my arms around his neck and he slipped his around my back.

 

“Do you know that before I met you I was in a deep sleep and I didn’t even know it?” I broke the silence. I needed

 

 

him to know that my life hadn’t been the same since he’d become a part of it. “I think I was always making my way toward you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. If I hadn’t found you, we wouldn’t have all of the wonderful things we’ve made together. This life, our babies. You make me completely happy.”

 

John stopped swaying. “Even when I’m being an ass?” he asked seriously.

 

I touched his cheek. “Especially when you’re being an

 

ass.”

 

He laughed and began to sway us again. “They want me to run for Senate,” he said after a beat. “The United States Senate. Senator Quinn is leaving office. It would be a special election. They asked me two weeks ago.”

 

It was my turn to stop and look at him. “That’s what you’ve been struggling to tell me? Honey, that’s wonderful.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“It’s honorable that they think you’re worthy of such a position, isn’t it? I think you are.”

 

“You’re biased,” he teased. “Besides, isn’t our life already too crazy?”

 

“Yes,” I considered his question only briefly. “But when hasn’t it been crazy, John. We thrive on that. It’s just

 

 

what we do.”

 

“Still…”

 

“John, is this something you’d like to do?”

 

“It would change our lives completely, more than your book. If I won, we’d have to leave home and move to Washington.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…and the scrutiny of being a political family is harsher than being a celebrity.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’d be responsible for effecting change in people’s

 

lives.”

 

“Yes,” I said. “And the problem is?”

 

He thought on the question. “I don’t know.”

 

“Honey, I know.”

 

“I’m afraid that things will change too much, that we’ll change.”

 

“We’re changing anyway,” I reminded him. “We’re not the same family we were even a year ago. The children have grown up. Your business is different; so is mine. Nothing is the same and we’re still okay.”

 

“Doc, I don’t want this to hurt us.”

 

“Why should it?”

 

He rolled his shoulders. “It shouldn’t.”

 

 

“I can’t believe this is why you’ve been so distant. You could have told me weeks ago. I’ve always supported your dreams and whatever you’ve wanted to do, haven’t I? What made you think I wouldn’t this time?”

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged again uneasily. “I really don’t.” He kissed me. “I don’t even care about that right now. Come with me.” He took my hand and started walking.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To bed.”

 

“Not yet,” I stopped. “You’re not finished.” I reminded him touching his erection. “Now you come here,” I said, backing into the wall and pulling him to me.

 

“I can do this here.” He said tracing a line down my body. He stopped at the top of my underwear and pulled them down my legs. “I thought you would be more comfortable in our bed.”

 

“What are we? An old fogey married couple. What happened to that man who made love to me in the backseat of our car in a parking garage? I remember the time you snuck into my office at the hospital and made love to me against the door while my secretary was just on the other side. Where’s that man?”

 

“Right here,” he assured me with a deep tongue-exploring kiss. He peeled off his pants and boxers and kicked

 

 

them aside. “I remember that time against the door. It was raining then too, if I recall correctly.” He tested the swollen folds of my still sensitive center with a quick swipe of his finger. “I also remember a time or two on a plane. You were so hot for me that you were nearly crawling out of your skin.”

 

“I was crawling out of my skin,” I admitted, watching him suck the fingers he’d used into his mouth. “I wanted you inside of me then, too.”

 

He swept his tongue across my lips, leaving the tangy taste of me there. “So sweet.” He went to his knees and planted his face firmly against my lower lips. He eased his tongue up one side and down the other.

 

The wall supported my weight as I fell heavily against it. “John…” I gasped, knotting fingers through his hair. “I can’t…you’re killing me.” I hadn’t come down from the first orgasm he’d given me. Still sensitive, I knew wouldn’t last long. “Sweetie, I want you.”

 

He dove deeper into my folds, disregarding the protests. He bent my knee over his shoulder continuing to French kiss my center. I tugged roughly on his hair. He laughed and thrust his tongue deeper, using it to penetrate my opening over and over.

 

I heard myself shout his name. And then he was

 

 

standing tall in front of me. My legs had gone numb and the room dark. I was still pulsing deep inside when I felt him glide full and heavy into me. He lifted my hands above my head, wrapped my legs around his hips and started driving himself deeply into me. He used the wall to his advantage, feeding me his full length and then taking it back. I had nowhere to go but up and down the hard shaft sealing us as one. I dug my nails into his back holding on as I rode harder and harder.

 

“You feel so good,” he moaned into my neck. “So damn

 

good.”

 

I bit the top of his ear. “Oh god you’re going to make me come again.” I clenched his hips tighter with my legs in preparation for my third climax. It was there at the edge, right where his tip kept hitting. “Baby…” I purred feeling it building in my stomach again.

 

“Give it to me,” he grunted against me. His moaning had taken over the room. He slammed his hands on the wall, flattening them on either side of my shoulders. His slickened skin rubbed mine eagerly as he slanted his head against my chest to keep up the pace of his hips.

 

I came first, hard. My entire body curled into his. He wasn’t finished. He pumped until his body betrayed him with climax. He slumped against me circling me with his damp arms.

 

 

His essence seeped around his shaft when he pulled back from me. It trickled down my thigh and he lovingly wiped it away before carrying me upstairs to our bedroom.

 

He put me down gently on our bed and went to get a cool dampened facecloth. I fell into a light sleep while he was away. His touch awakened me. I felt drugged, my body satiated and in need of rest. We cleaned up and he climbed into bed behind me.

 

“I haven’t made a decision about the election,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t without talking to you first but I should have known you wouldn’t say no. I should have had more faith in you.”

 

I was nodding off. His words were only whispers in the dark. “We’ll talk in the morning. Just stay close to me.”

 

“I’m right here,” he said. “I love you.”

 

“I know.”

 

I awoke to an empty bed. It was almost eight o’clock. The only time that happened is when I was away from home promoting my book. I snuggled into the waves of soft sheets covering my body. John’s scent was there, Noah’s too. In the pillows and sheets. The smell made his absence harsher.

 

 

Our bedroom was so quiet. This kind of quiet sometimes unnerved me when I woke up alone in hotel rooms across the country. Silence triggered Alex flashes. He’d moved in and out of rooms with quiet calculation. Because of that, I loved noise. Sleeping was difficult without it. I had grown very accustomed to the sound of my husband’s breathing. To the sound of our children coming in and out of rooms with their distinct noises, but on the road I didn’t have that. The sound of your own breathing and thoughts could paralyze you if you weren’t careful. And memories. Those Alex memories.

 

All of my babies, all of their sounds, were gone but I had fallen asleep listening to John’s breathing. I called out. “Honey, where are you?” Only dead air answered.

 

I looked around the room. His favorite gray sweatshirt that usually hung on the back of the chair was gone. Maybe he’d gone for a morning run. How he had the strength to move after last night was amazing. I felt the strained muscles protesting as I sat up and draped the sheet around my body. A hot bath was calling my name. The children were taken care of for at least three more hours. I planned on picking up all three before noon.

 

I grabbed my robe from the end of the bed and pulled it on. John had left it there. There were quite a few times that our children had walked without knocking into our rooms and

 

 

witnessed one or both of us completely naked. Nicky and Noodle had learned to knock more. Noah had not reached that threshold yet. He came and went as he pleased into our room. I thought it was somewhat cute the way he bucked into a room without fear of what he might find there. He was a secure little guy in our world. John had said he was trying to teach Noah boundaries while I was away. I kept trying to explain that boundaries weren’t something a little boy understood.

 

I stood and stretched, smiling. He was a great daddy to each and every one of our babies. He had a picture of them on his nightstand. All nine of our brood standing and smiling at the camera with him sitting dead in the center. It was taken on Father’s Day a while ago. Whenever we made love in our room, depending on the kind of love we were making, that picture could be put on its face at any given time. Having sex with all of our children’s eyes on us was a little too disturbing.

 

I noticed a biography of Teddy Roosevelt sitting in front of the picture. It was a large book. I picked it up and ran my fingers along its spine. I opened the cover to familiar writing. Holly’s. In purple ink she had written, “To the next great politician. Yours, Holly.” I sat back down on the edge of the bed, settling the book on my lap. It was opened to Holly’s handwriting. I traced the letters of Yours, Holly mindlessly.

 

 

She had known. John had told her.

 

“Life goes on when you’re not here,” he’d said. Those words made me cringe now. Life certainly did. I trusted John and Holly. It wasn’t about mistrust, the gnawing that had started in my belly. It wasn’t that. I knew my husband loved me. There was no doubt in my mind. But he’d shared this significant moment with Holly before me. That was something that made me immediately uncomfortable. I didn’t like it. Jealousy rose quickly. I could touch it, name it, and own it. John told me on countless occasions that I never acted like a jealous wife, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. There was pure jealousy running the rails of my thoughts. He had debated and worried himself almost sick trying to tell me about this and Holly, our nanny had known before I had.

 

I let the book stay open to the page where she’d

 

written.

 

Doubt starts with a whisper. Tiny and secretive. Don’s affair with Liz happened that way. He was lonely. He hurt over our son’s lost. It had supposedly opened the door to unfaithfulness. And all he kept saying was how much it hadn’t meant anything to him. Those words did nothing to repair the tear that opened inside my heart.

 

Yours, Holly.

 

The words wouldn’t loose themselves from my mind. Words followed images of John and Holly holding each other close. In our bed, with my children at the door.

 

I closed the book. The images fell out of sight. I hugged the book to my chest, inhaling the cottony smell of the pages. Tears were falling before I knew how or why. I didn’t believe what my mind had just said was true. I knew it wasn’t.

 

“What’s wrong,” his voice barreled into the room. He stood just inside the door. His hair and face were glistening. The front of his sweatshirt was soaked.

 

I watched him, holding the book filled with Holly’s writing against my chest. I didn’t answer him. Foolish is how I felt.

 

He came across the room in what seemed like two steps. He went to his knees to look up into my face. Shame had sunk my eyes and chin.

 

He touched the hand I had covering the book. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

 

“You’re crying.” He wiped my cheek. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” he asked with panic riding his words. His face was more stern than comforting. His hands were rough in their appeasement.

 

 

I eased his hands from my hand and face. I pushed away, moving into the bed. Confusion mapped his face. He stood up. His eyes moved over me slowly. His breathes spurted from his lungs. I had felt his heart against my knee, shaking his chest.

 

“Is there something,” I hesitated, swallowing as I wet my dry lips, “…going on?” I pulled my knees to my chest and settled the book on the bed. It opened to the page I had all the questions about.

 

His eyes fell to Holly’s purple words.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

He didn’t stop to think. “Nothing,” he said.

 

“John.” I sighed.

 

“What?”

 

“Is there something going on between you and Holly?” The thought was now solidified. I couldn’t go back and unthink it. I couldn’t lasso my fears back because he was looking at me with horror.

 

“Why would you think that? Because of this,” he grabbed the book. His knuckles flexed around the cover. “She gave me a book. It doesn’t mean anything is going on, Marlena. Did she say something to make you think that?” he asked thinning his eyes with suspicion.

 

“John, is there something going on?” I asked again.

 

 

He sat down with his back turned. The veins in his neck bulged with every hard breath he took. He put the book back on the nightstand with a thud.

 

“You’re avoiding the question.” I said quietly. “Why?” His body trembled as he buckled forward. “I wouldn’t

 

do that to us, baby. I wouldn’t risk losing you or my family. I don’t understand why you think I would. Because of this? A book?” He stood taking it into his hands. I could see that he was crying when he turned around. “This book doesn’t mean anything. Do you want to see how much it means?” He tossed it into the receptacle near his nightstand.

 

“She gave me a book. Nothing is going on.” He came back to the bed and grabbed me. He pulled my arms until I was standing in his face. “Do you hear me? I’m in love with you. Nothing happened.”

 

“You told her about the election…before me?” “She was here when I got the call. That’s why,” he

 

explained away too easily.

 

It was all coming together too perfectly. But this was John; I trusted him.

 

“You don’t know how much I love you by now? You’re still unsure of that.” He crushed me flat against his soaked chest. “I love you, gotdamnit. You know that.” His grip

 

 

tightened.

 

“I do know that,” I told him letting him bend us back

 

into the bed. “I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

 

He was kissing me, crying, whispering. “I’m sorry,

 

baby. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Painful Memories

 

Noah had no idea how much he reminded me of Keema. The smallest gesture could unfold memories from the hiding place where I’d tucked them away. Not all memories were bad; some were mysterious and beautiful. Her place in my life was fleeting, ethereal. I stopped questioning why she came, and why she left. What she left behind explained it all. Noah. He was the only thing that made sense. He filled a hole that I didn’t know needed filling. I had assumed that I had all the children I would ever have. I was satisfied with that, but then a little girl whose heart needed fixing entered my life. She was carrying my child. Fix your heart around those mysteries.

 

She had sat in that first meeting with the other girls

 

 

looking as if a smile from a stranger could break her apart. Her shoulders sunk, her eyes were drawn low. She distrusted everything and everyone, especially my being there. Why would a white woman want to help a group of poor black girls? she’d wanted to know. What had I been trying to prove? She had no idea how similar we were in that moment. I felt as unworthy and unloveable as she. I just hid it better. John’s and my relationship was awful then. Like her I feared raising my children alone. I feared my daughter and son growing up in a household that didn’t include their father. I had decided that if love with John didn’t work, that I didn’t want it while he was trying to decide if I was worthy again. Those tumultuous moments when a ‘no’ from John could destroy the quiet hope I carried. We lived on this very fine thread. One step too far and we’d both fall over. Keema never understood what I had learned– all pain is the same.

 

Noah didn’t know that kind of pain. If I could help it, he would never know. What he knew of his mother was that she had carried him inside of her belly for us and then went onto heaven. Her picture had a place high on his bookshelf. It came in a box of her belongings a couple of months after she’d died. There wasn’t much inside the meager shoebox that was taped together at the sides. Her only friend had gathered up what

 

 

belongings she left at her house and sent them to us, for Noah. One day he might want to know what she smelled like, she’d written in the note. A tattered panda bear with a heart sewn into its paws did have a smell. Even all these years later. I hadn’t washed it. I wanted to preserve its smell. A fruity soft scent that reminded me of being sixteen years old. Right on the cusp of everything. When Noah was still a baby, I put Keema’s panda in the corner of his crib. Now it was in a box in the top of his closet. Every now and again I went into his room, took the box–the same box that it came to us in–and pressed it close to my nose.

 

I didn’t need a scent to feel her. Sometimes Noah turned such a way or said something and she was back, right there breathing the air I breathed. He would bite into his bottom lip, gnawing and drawing it into his mouth. Keema did her thinking that way. She could be so deliberate and careless in one motion. And that was my son, beautifully careless and deliberate.

 

He was studying the map in his hands. Confusion flickered over his face momentarily. It wasn’t a Keema look. It was John’s. He scrunched his eyebrows close together and let his eyes travel the room. He was deciding if he could trust his instincts. He gathered the flaps of the brochure map into one

 

 

hand and reached for my hand with the other. His confidence grew. “This way, Mama. The sharks are through here,” he guided us down a short incline that led into a larger circular room.

 

It was dim, a little cooler. A distinct smell held the room. A smell that would always remind me of Noah’s excitement about the aquarium. The first time we came he was barely walking on his own. John had carried him through the entire three floors of the aquarium. He could have the heart of a teacher when his patience allowed. Any question that Noah or the other children had was answered. Our visit had taken a whole day. Noah’s eyes grew wider and wider with every explanation. I believe it was John who made Noah love this place as much as he did. Noah skirted around the throngs of people gazing at the tanks of fish and turtles. Going about his business the way a typical boy in one of his favorite places would, a small measure of excitement peppering every step. Even without the map, he had nearly memorized the layout of the building.

 

We’d gone over the exhibits that he wanted to see before bed last night. Noah had climbed into bed with me and John that morning, showered and dressed. “I’m ready,” he said moving into the space between our bodies. He was wearing the clothes I’d laid out for him. Khaki cargo shorts, white tennis shoes, and a red angry birds shirt. “Do you know what time it

 

 

is, son?” Noah looked at his wrist and told John without missing a beat. What he missed–the grating irritation in his father’s voice.

 

“You’re walking too slow, Mama.” He said.

 

I smiled a little. “Am I?”

 

“Yes. Can we hurry?” he asked, looking back. “The sharks won’t be gone when we get there. I

 

promise.”

 

“I don’t like it when there are too many people in the tunnel. Remember?”

 

I nodded and picked up my pace. “You’re a little bossy

 

today.”

 

“I’m not. Daddy’s the boss.”

 

I chuckled. “Says who? Daddy?”

 

He said yes without turning around. “He’s bigger than

 

us.”

 

“I see.” I followed Noah down another long corridor. My mind was elsewhere. On Keema. On John and Holly. “Sweetheart, slow down.” I wished his excitement was contagious. There were thoughts I wanted to banish. Images. Noah was completely unaware of what went on inside my head.

 

This was our day. A day separate from his birthday, which we would celebrate that weekend. We had chosen this day–

 

 

the anniversary of Keema’s death–to always remember her by celebrating with Noah. It was Edie’s idea after the first anniversary of Keema’s death. A way to combat depression that croaked loudest around this time. I had been unprepared for my delayed reaction to it; I had taken to bed for a whole week before I remembered why it was that I was so sick with grief. Briefly, only briefly, I had forgotten the golden girl whose gift of a child was the something I didn’t know I needed until he was in my arms. Edie had come to visit Noah and found me moping around in my robe. She gave me a stern talking to, one I never forgot. This day rolled around each year and we, John and I, spent it in celebration with Noah alone.

 

“Mama…” he tugged at my wrist and stopped walking. “They’re taking our picture.” He pointed at the camera lens turned our way.

 

“It’s okay, Noah.” Being photographed without my permission came along with the new territory. “They’ll take them and be finished with it.”

 

He pulled away with a start. “Stop doing that,” he shouted at my admirer. He stood as tall as his little frame would allow with his shoulders raised. His feet planted firmly in the ground. “Leave my Mama alone.”

 

“Baby, don’t yell,” I pulled at him, loosening his

 

 

rigid stance. “It’s okay.” He softened and wrapped his arms around my legs. “They’re not trying to hurt us. I promise. Take me to the sharks.”

 

Noah looked up. He’d buried his face in my legs. “I don’t like them.”

 

The woman with the camera gave a little wave, as apology. A medium woman with a little extra weight around the middle. Her hair was long but pulled into a ponytail. She smiled at us and touched her chest. Her sons, twin boys who were dressed alike, ran ahead of her. She started after them after mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

 

I crouched down. Comforting, I wrapped his arms around my neck to lift him. He came with ease. “I’m sorry, baby.” He was solid. A heavy reminder that he wasn’t a baby. He had grown into a handsome boy with features I knew, and some I did not.

 

Another flash lit us from behind. A new admirer. A middle-aged man. I turned around and gave him a smile. It was the easiest way to get the pictures to stop. He snapped another picture. “Mama…” Noah whined. I tucked his face into my neck and headed for the tunnel of sharks. John was waiting there; it was a surprise for Noah. John had an early meeting but he was leaving it to meet us. We were going to have lunch in the cafe on the other side of the shark exhibit. I moved slowly under

 

 

Noah’s weight. He had wrapped his legs around my waist. I walked through the crowds, hoping to make it to John without another uncomfortable encounter for Noah. There were some nods, a smile here and there but no pictures or autographs.

 

We made it to the mouth of the tunnel. It opened into a long shaft of muted blue light. John was supposed to be standing near the entrance to the wall-to-wall underground life-sized tank. I lowered Noah back to his feet and looked around. John wasn’t there. He hadn’t phoned to say he would be late. If he wasn’t able to make it, he would phone. A fleeting second passed where I nearly dialed Holly’s number. She would know; and, because she would know, I didn’t. Words, her words, had changed that. A sweet inscription that John called innocent; it made me uncomfortable. The way John was acting made me uncomfortable too. He was non-reactive. Too non-reactive.

 

John came spilling out of a group of people, looking far removed from a day at the aquarium. Most patrons wore jeans and t-shirts to browse the exhibits. His gray suit and lavender tie clashed harshly within the casual environment. He was on the phone. Lately, he was always talking into his earpiece. It made my stomach turn and I didn’t know why. He didn’t notice us standing there, waiting.

 

Noah spotted him. He began to wave frantically in

 

 

John’s direction but his eyes were on the ground. “He can’t see us,” Noah decided, and he took off in John’s direction. I called after him, gaining John attention. He looked up with a gentling smile. He waved with his free hand; the other was holding a Starbucks cup. John scooped down to lift Noah up slowly. The sight of John and Noah took my breath away. Noah’s arms and legs folded around his father, he laid down against John’s shoulder.

 

I found myself surrounded by an influx teenagers. They were on a field trip. Their shiny keen faces glanced around the room without pleasure. A museum guide was giving them a tour.

 

They were divided into two long lines with their shaky teacher standing ahead of them, behind the tour guide. Only a couple students acutely paid the tour guide any attention. The others huddled close together sharing words through whispers. Their teacher’s eyes stayed forward. She looked and moved in a hurried cluster; very little thought to her clothing. Her blue jean jacket was too small, cut squat just above her sharp hips. She’d missed the first button which slanted the panel of her jacket awkwardly against her chest. The zipper of her gray pencil skirt was askew. Her hair, a brown shoulder length helmet, was the only neat thing about her. She listened raptly to the guide who was moving quickly through her words. She didn’t stop for air as she explained the eating habits of the

 

 

sharks before they entered the tunnel as a group.

 

“I’ve seen you on TV,” a young man with smooth cocoa skin said suddenly. He was an arm’s length away standing at the back of the line. He had a round face like a chubby baby. He revealed his perfect white teeth as we watched John and Noah walking over. He offered his hand,”I’m Parker Reynolds.”

 

I took his soft palm into mine. “Hello, Parker.” “That’s your son, right?” he asked, his brown eyes

 

widening. “Cute.”

 

I hugged my middle. “Thank you.” I looked into his eyes. They were brown; they held depth rarely seen in youthful eyes. “He’s a wonderful little boy. I’m lucky to have him,” I was moved to tell him.

 

Parker nodded with another smile. “Does he ever

 

wonder?”

 

“Wonder what?” I asked.

 

“Why he’s the only brown person in your family,” he wanted to know. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. Does he ever wonder why his mother and father have white skin?”

 

My arms tightened around my stomach. “I’ve never thought about it,” I said honestly.

 

We watched Noah walking with his father. “He doesn’t seem to be bothered.”

 

 

“I don’t know,” I said, hearing the tangle of Noah and John’s voice growing nearer.

 

“I didn’t mean to get so personal,” he lowered his head, “I just wondered. Every time I see a picture of your family, I wonder about your son. You must be a good mother, though. He looks happy.”

 

I heard the clear sound of my child’s voice calling me the name he’d been calling me since he learned to talk. Mama. It wasn’t defined by the tone of my skin or the texture of my hair. I was Mama. The person who brought him home from the hospital, who had been caring for him since his mother’s death. Mama wasn’t black or white. Noah hadn’t yet learned that we were different beyond age. He understood that John and I were older and that he was the baby. It didn’t occur to him to ask the other obvious questions. I hoped we had several years until those questions arose.

 

“Mama,” he called out.

 

I touched Parker’s shoulder. “He is perfect. Thank you for asking.”

 

“Who is that?” Noah asked his father.

 

“Parker,” the young man told my son. He opened his palm and waited until Noah’s smaller hand moved into it. “Like that shirt, my dude. Have a good time.”

 

 

“Thank you, Parker.” Noah said politely.

 

“It was nice to meet you,” Parker said as he turned back to his group and followed them into the tunnel.

 

“He’s just a student who has seen me on television.” I answered John’s curious look. The other parts of our conversation would be discussed when Noah wasn’t hanging from John’s neck watching my every word.

 

“Doc, are you okay?” he held my elbow and looked into

 

my face.

 

He shifted so easily into protective John. The tight grip on my elbow, holding Noah pressed against his chest. “I’m fine,” I said softly. “We’re all fine. Right, Noah?”

 

Noah moved his neck back and forth as his lips slipped into a smile.

 

John’s eyes were following the after Parker’s group in the tunnel. I touched his chest. His heart’s beat collided with my palm. I hadn’t realized until he grabbed me. When he took my elbow into his protective hold I felt an uneasy quiet anger release itself within my body. I was upset with him for the vulnerability running the edges of my nerves. I understood by my reaction, the possessive way I removed myself from his hold–I was angry. I just hadn’t said anything.

 

He didn’t know. The suspicion had left his eyes. He

 

 

was calm again. “Hi beautiful,” he said tilting to kiss the corner of my mouth.

 

I thought to step back but his hand was now pressed against my back, drawing me to him. “Hello.”

 

He lingered, letting his nose roam my neck and cheek. “You smell wonderful.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Always.”

 

I turned away from the heat of his mouth. And his words. “I think Noah’s ready for the sharks. Right, sweetie?”

 

“Noah doesn’t mind his old man giving his mother a kiss, do you buddy?”

 

He did mind. His face twisted in disgust. “Gross.” “There are people watching,” I said. A couple walking

 

along with their hands clasped had caught my eye.

 

John tilted toward my mouth again. “Let them,” he said with a kiss.

 

“I want a shark,” Noah announced, “that sleeps in my room with me.” We were sitting at a little red square table in the aquarium’s Rainforest Cafe. Our table was in the back of the nearly packed room. It was brightly lit. Children were running

 

 

back and forth between their table and the closed-in jungle gym near our table. Noah was waiting for his chance to get into the chaos.

 

He was humoring me until I gave my permission to run free. Our deal was eating before playing. He bit into his cheeseburger, causing a thin ribbon of ketchup to slide down his chin. He reached for a fry and plucked it into his mouth. All the while his brown eyes were on me. “What do you think, Mama?” he asked chewing his food quietly.

 

I chuckled. Noah was mimicking his father, who had stepped away from the table to take a another phone call. John was standing at a distance behind Noah in a quiet part of Rainforest Cafe. He’d been excusing himself since we sat down. The first two calls were understandable, maybe even the third, but whenever he came back to us, he was still miles away. My eyes seemed to seek him out without my permission. I tried to focus on Noah, his conversation about sharks, but John’s eyes found mine; and the conversation we were avoiding began in the invisible air between us. We hadn’t talked about whether or not he was going to accept the offer to run for the Senate seat. He was. He just hadn’t been able to say it aloud to me. The thing with Holly was also now intertwined with the senate seat. He couldn’t bring up the topic unless he was willing to talk about

 

 

Holly again. And he wasn’t.

 

He had silenced me with sex. It was his way–our way. When things were uncomfortable the go-to method for communicating was climbing into bed and making love until the questions died on the drenched surfaces of our skin. I’d found Holly’s book four days ago. We made love every day since. Another wife might have read into his actions as someone trying to overcompensate. I wasn’t that kind of wife. He wouldn’t make love to me because he’d done so with Holly. He would to keep me from thinking of the possibility of it.

 

Noah shot up on his knees and leaned across the table onto his elbows. “Mama? What do you think?” he asked, touching my cheek.

 

“Honey, about what? And do Mama a favor, sit down on your bottom. Please?”

 

He shook his head, grinning. “What do you think?”

 

“I think,” I stood and lifted him from the table, “you should sit down before you hurt yourself.” He sat back down into the chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t pout. What were we talking about?”

 

“Sharks,” he said a little too loudly. “Don’t speak to me in that tone, Noah Black.”

 

He repeated himself, quietly this time. His outburst

 

 

had gotten John’s attention. “I want a shark in my room.” “I don’t think so,” I told him gently. “Why?”

 

“Ask Daddy,” I said watching John walk back over to the table.

 

“What?” He asked, sitting down. He pressed his chair close to mine and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “What is it, buddy?”

 

“I want a shark in my room.”

 

“A shark?”

 

“Yeah, like the ones in the tank. Can we get one?”

 

“Yes,” I corrected, “not yeah.”

 

“Where’s he going to sleep?” John grinned.

 

“With me,” Noah said as if it were the most natural answer in the world.

 

“Sharks live in water,” I reminded him.

 

“Oh yeah…I mean yes, Mama. The pool?” His eyes brightened. “He can live in the pool.”

 

I wiped the ketchup that had dried on his chin. “No, Sweetie, just no.” I said, collecting his food into a pile on the tray. “I think you’re finished with this. Do you want to play for a while?”

 

Noah hopped down and headed toward the jungle gym

 

 

without another word.

 

“Honey, be careful,” I said after him. A confident stride that mirrored John’s, he slipped into the room and headed for a group of boys his age. “I’ll stay and let him play awhile if you have something else you need to do.” I wasn’t looking at John; I was still watching Noah. He had established himself the leader. The boys who were banded together in the play area were now following his lead. That part of him came from John. “Look at him..that’s you.”

 

“Look at me,” he said.

 

I let the words dance around without doing as he’d asked. I looked through the glass windows at Noah instead.

 

He turned my body, my chair toward him, my eyes. “I’m not sleeping with Holly.”

 

The words landed hard. “Why would you say that?”

 

He grabbed my chin, “You’re worried. How many times do I have to remind you that I know this face? Hmm?”

 

“This isn’t a conversation that I want to have here.” I looked away. The room was full of people waiting for an unguarded moment like the one John was trying to force. “Not here.”

 

“Nowhere,” he said firmly. “We don’t have to have a conversation. I’m telling you that there is nothing for you to

 

 

worry about.”

 

“John,” I said, tamping back words. And even then I couldn’t stop them. “I just feel like there is something. I don’t know what. You’re being evasive.”

 

“Am I?” he asked, a genuine look of repentance masked his face. “I don’t mean to be.”

 

“Forgive my insecurities for moment, I’m trying not to give into them but I’m not around as much as you would like. The children miss me. You miss me. I want to be home with you all but I’m not. She is.”

 

“She’s not you. You have nothing to be insecure about,

 

baby.”

 

“It just feels too familiar.”

 

He sighed and reached into my hair, twirling the ends across the meaty folds of his knuckles.

 

“Like with Don,” I continued, moving as close to his face as possible. The tip of my nose met his chin. He cupped the back of my neck and pressed a kiss not to tenderly against my pursed lips. “We’ve done this before, remember? We’ve done this with each other…”

 

He interrupted, “And to each other.”

 

No matter how many times he had said so, he hadn’t forgiven me for what happened with Dr. Shalit. There must not be

 

 

recovery from betrayal, not with John’s loyalty system. I could deny it again. I could be firm and demand that he listen again but he would still have that feeling in the pit of his stomach. The same one growing in mine. You could love someone and still betray them. I knew it as plainly as the fear eclipsing John’s eyes.

 

“Mama.”

 

We turned toward our little boy’s voice. John’s hand ran down the curve of my arm. He gripped my elbow, smiling at Noah.

 

“He needs me,” I whispered.

 

“I need you.”

 

“You have me,” I reminded him lifting an eyebrow.

 

“Mama.”

 

“I need to…” my words drifted into his lips as he fused our mouths together. Why are you doing this? The hungry kissing, eyes collecting each one. Why are you afraid?

 

“Let’s get Noah and go,” he said gruffly. “We can get them to bed early and spend some time alone.”

 

His suggestion left me cold. “I’ll get Noah.” We parted unceremonially and I stood. “I still want to talk about this. I want to talk about Holly.” I couldn’t walk around with a knot in the pit of my stomach.

 

 

“Nothing to discuss,” he said dismissively.

 

“For me there is, John.”

 

He smiled. “Then we’ll talk. Later,” he punctuated

 

with a firm kiss against the tops of my fingers.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

A Change Has Come

 

“Mama, why is she here?” A clear disappointment wrapped around Noah’s words. They were uttered so freely, childishly that they stole my breath.

 

I had turned into our driveway and waited for Noah to click open the garage with the opener. We had been talking about his favorite exhibits at the aquarium. The sharks. We’d stopped by the gift shop with John. He told Noah to choose anything in the little novelty store. It was filled with posters, t-shirts, and stuffed animals. Noah chose the largest sky blue shark from a wall mount. His father paid the ruddy-faced cashier. She was a chubby teenager who took John’s smile for her own reward. She grabbed a long steel hook to dismount Noah’s new stuffed animal, handing it to John who had Noah on his back. Noah remembered his

 

 

brother and sister. He chose, with his father’s approval, a t-shirt for Nicky and Jules, and a poster for himself.

 

He was asking, with the garage door opener in his hand, where we could hang his poster when he saw the little red car.

 

And then he asked the question I had heard myself asking, internally. I gripped the steering wheel, letting the hard grooves knead my skin. Evening was coming on very slowly. It was still humid. I felt warm sitting with my son’s judgment and the undeniable tide of fear rising. Fear. Was it fear that caused bullets of sweat to stream from the warmer places on my body? Fear that made me ignore Noah’s question, even as he sat waiting for an answer.

 

“Grab your bag,” I told him. “We can hang your new shark poster in your room.”

 

“Mama…”

 

I gave him a look that distracted him. He put the opener on the seat beside him and leaned forward to get closer to me. He sunk his chin in the valley between the front and passenger seats. I hadn’t turned around. His cheek was touching my shoulder. I was sweating still, with air conditioning blowing briskly throughout the car. The space beside Holly’s car was John’s. He wasn’t home. I pulled into his spot and turned the

 

 

engine off. Holly’s red sedan was parked in the space usually reserved for my car.

 

Why was Holly here? What I should have said, what I was thinking was Holly was always here. It was her job to be here. This was our normal.

 

Noah’s open-eyed gaze was directed at my reflection in the rear view mirror. My heart began a forceful rhythm, wild and free in the warm space of my chest. I couldn’t name the feeling, but I licked my dry lips and then swallowed to coat my even drier throat. What was this? It wouldn’t have mattered before. How many days had I opened the garage with Holly’s car parked there? More days than I could name. But what I shared with John at the aquarium was now overwhelmingly true. Something had changed. It was as though a hole had opened inside of the trust I held in Holly.

 

A song was playing faintly on the radio. I hadn’t noticed until we were sitting idly in the car. I knew the song. In my mind, I hummed along. Letting my heartbeat calm to the soft rhythm of its lyrics. I had danced with John to this song before. The name escaped me but I saw the silhouette of our bodies together in a half-lit room, holding on to each other when I allowed myself to inhale deeply as I lowered my eyelids. When had we danced together like that last?

 

 

“Mama?” Noah tapped my shoulder.

 

I opened my eyes. “Yes, honey?” He was watching me curiously.

 

He pointed at Holly’s car. “Why is she here?”

 

I sighed and let my head roll back. “It’s her job,” I said, carefully pressing my fingertips over my eyelids.

 

“But why?” he asked.

 

I reached for my purse and the bag of t-shirts that Noah had picked out for Noodle and Nicky. “Grab your bag.”

 

“She’s in your spot, Mama,” he pointed out.

 

I turned off the radio and then the ignition. “Noah, I want you to be respectful to Holly. And kind. Daddy and I would be very disappointed if you weren’t.” Noah fumbled with his belt and his stuffed shark. I bent around to look into his liquid brown eyes. “That’s when I’m away, and when I’m home with you all. Is that understood?”

 

He shrugged and shook his head. “Well nobody asked Noah but I just want you and Daddy home with us. Not Holly.” He finally managed to unbuckle his seatbelt and quickly open his door to climb out. He yanked his new shark out of the car and perched it on his shoulder. “You’re home now. We don’t need her,” he said, closing the door.

 

 

“Noah…”

 

He shrugged his slender shoulders again, jumbling the shark. “What? Isn’t that an opinion?” he asked, stumbling over the largeness of a word he’d picked up from either John or me. “That’s what you say, right? Opinion,” he said slowly.

 

“Let’s forget opinions for now,” I told him swallowing the threat of laughter. We were raising respectful children. They could have opinions but within reason. Noah was the child who tested this practice the most. Nicky and Noodle could be stubborn and mouthy, but they weren’t as cute as Noah doing so. “Be nice when you see Holly,” I warned him gently. “That’s all Mama wants from you right now.”

 

He nodded, a little chastised. “Yes, Mama.” He grabbed

 

my hand.

 

We walked up the four stairs that would take us into the kitchen. I remembered that I hadn’t heard from John after leaving the aquarium. We had planned to meet back at home and have supper with the children tonight. He was talking about pizza after I offered to cook when his cell phone rang. We had been standing in the aquarium parking lot putting Noah into my car. It was an unexpected meeting that would probably take a couple hours, he’d said. He kissed Noah goodbye, closed his door, and hooked his arm into mine to walk with me around my car

 

 

to the driver’s door. I’d waited until Noah couldn’t hear us to say, “I have things I need to get out.” I told him as I climbed into my car, “We need to talk.” He’d smiled and brushed his lips along my cheek. “As soon as I get home,” he promised.

 

I checked my wrist. It was almost suppertime. I was reminded by the smells rounding my kitchen. Noah and I had entered the house so quietly that Holly had no idea we were there. I stood with Noah in the frame of the door watching her make her way comfortably around my kitchen. Noah seemed as transfixed by the sight of this as I was. He was uncommonly quiet and still. He kept his hand inside of mine. His other arm had encircled the backs of my legs.

 

Holly moved about the room with a disturbing grace. Familiarity that I hadn’t accessed in all the years that I had lived in the house that had been a gift from John. She knew where to find things. The pots, spices, and utensils that created the suppers that nourished my children. My husband.

 

The jealousy started creeping with every footstep, with every turn of the spoon she used standing over the stove. She’d pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head so that loose strands shaped her face. She had a gentle, beautiful face that had shared secrets with me. I knew this woman. I had never felt any insecurity about Holly being in my house until I

 

 

read the intimacy of her words to my husband. This thing that had opened up like the pages of a book couldn’t be unlearned, unread.

 

She was lining up spices on the stove when she called out to Juliana, by her nickname. Her raised voice tightened Noah’s grip around my clammy hand. I almost took his hand and walked inside but the sudden sound of my daughter imprisoned my feet to the ground. I’d heard her rumbling down the back stairwell before I saw her. She skipped into the kitchen with the most pleasant smile I’d ever seen on her face and ran into Holly’s arms. She went so easily, holding on until Holly’s lips brushed her hair. They parted and Holly took her over to the stove, showing her the row of spices. Noodle picked up the spoon and Holly covered her hand over the handle. She was explaining something about the spices. She uncovered one and reached for a pinch. She released it over the pot and watched as Noodle stirred it. Their heads were bent together over the pot.

 

“I’m not eating that,” Noah whispered without looking

 

up.

 

“Baby.” I had to stifle the natural laughter at his unfiltered opinion. He was absolutely serious. “We can’t hurt your sister’s feelings.”

 

“Mama…”

 

 

They were fixing spaghetti. The smell of basil and tomatoes filled my nose. A little garlic. She had also grilled steaks. They were sitting on a plate on the counter. I knew the steaks were for John. Holly was a vegetarian. I had wanted John to cut down on red meat, also and I had shared so with Holly but he loved steak; she knew that.

 

“Holly?” My daughter leaned back into the slender wall of Holly’s body. “Did you know that Mama was crazy,” she whispered without looking up from the pot. “Before..not now,” Noodle edited. “She was in a place when Nicky was born. Did you know?”

 

Holly was unshaken by her candidness. She started stroking Noodle’s hair. Her dark curls were falling around her face. “I did know,” Holly said. “She was ill for a little while, Jules.”

 

“I know.”

 

“How do you know?” Holly asked the question I wanted

 

to know.

 

“Her book.” The ‘her’ stung. An invisible distance, the one that burdens mothers and daughters ribboned through me. “Mama swears that we can’t look on the internet to find out stuff about her either.” She was flippant, and oddly mature.

 

“You’re not supposed to do that, Jules. I think you

 

 

should talk to her. She’s a great person to talk to.”

 

Even her endorsement didn’t lessen the dead weight of Noodle’s distancing words.

 

“She won’t talk to me. I’m a baby to Mama and Daddy.”

 

“You are their baby.”

 

Juliana rolled her eyes. She placed the spoon on the stove and turned into Holly’s arms. “I’m not. They have a lot of babies. I’m only one of them.”

 

“Jules, I wish you wouldn’t feel that way.”

 

“I don’t…feel any way. I was just saying.”

 

“Talk to her,” Holly suggested, rubbing Noodle’s back.

 

“Was she crazy?” Noodle asked.

 

It catapulted Noah from my grip into the kitchen, barreling towards them. “Mama is not crazy,” he yelled coming upon them.

 

His anger forced them apart. I tried to move, to stop Noah but my feet wouldn’t leave the spot where I had been listening. Holly and Noodle looked across the kitchen at me standing with Noah’s discarded bag and shark at my feet. I smiled, politely. Weakly. I bent down and picked up Noah’s things feeling the weight and heat of Noodle’s eyes.

 

“Take it back,” Noah demanded of them. He was standing in the space between them. They were standing apart, far away

 

 

from each other.

 

“Noah, calm down.” Holly told him. She was walking over to me still crouching to pick up Noah’s things.

 

“Noah…” Noodle didn’t know what to say to him. She stayed at the stove, stirring at the pot again. She was looking down at Noah, sullen and quiet now. The betrayal of our eavesdropping was written all over Noodle’s face. Her body twisted awkwardly.

 

“Mama’s not crazy,” Noah shouted angrily.

 

She put the spoon down and turned, wrapping her arms around her chest. “You shouldn’t have been listening to conversations that aren’t about you.” She said to him. “You don’t even know,” she said, glancing at me.

 

“Why are you here?” Noah asked, turning swiftly on

 

Holly.

 

“We’re making spaghetti,” Holly told me instead of answering Noah. She was near enough that I smelled her fruity perfume. “Jules wanted to learn how to make it. I didn’t think it would be a problem.” She reached for Noah’s things from me. I was standing like a statue now, looking at her. She seemed to be totally removed from what was happening. “Did he enjoy the aquarium?”

 

“Yes,” I said. It was all I could say. Maybe Jules was

 

 

right. I was paid to communicate well. To help others communicate but the conversation between Holly and Jules had stolen any ounce of awareness. The creeping jealousy had been replaced by a searing inability to look Holly in her eyes. I also couldn’t answer anything else that might have come out of her mouth. I walked toward my son and daughter, placing my purse on the counter, near the steaks.

 

Jules watched my movement toward her. We shared a look. One that let her know that we might have some things to talk about; we wouldn’t be discussing them in front of Holly. A quieting look that would settle whatever else she would say. They had said enough.

 

“Noah, take your things up to your room for me.” The mother inside took control. The wife and friend might have wilted if blown on. “Hi Noodle,” I said, pulling her into a hug. She didn’t resist. Her cheek met my stomach. I placed a kiss on top of her hair. I could smell Holly there. “We’ll talk later,” I whispered.

 

“Okay.” She wanted to escape. I felt it urging her body away from mine.

 

“Go help your brother get cleaned up for supper. I’ll help Holly finish this up.”

 

“Okay Mama.” She pulled away.

 

 

“I love you,” I told her as she walked away with Noah angrily in tow. He moved away from her touch when she tried laying her hand on his shoulder. “Noah, be kind.”

 

“That was sort of surreal, wasn’t it?” Holly asked as soon as the children’s footsteps had disappeared upstairs.

 

I watched her closely. The tiny vein in her neck pulsed beneath her skin. “Very,” I admitted.

 

She touched her cheek. There were smatterings of freckles there. “I didn’t start the conversation, Marlena. It was very uncomfortable for me.”

 

“Really?” I asked without measuring the accusation filling the question.

 

“Yes,” she said earnestly.

 

She looked small, smaller.”She’s curious. It’s natural,” I excused her. “John and I should have been more proactive about preparing them for this. I’ll handle it with him.”

 

“Of course,” she was smiling. “You are her parents.”

 

I agreed with a thin tight smile. “Yes, we are.”

 

“I did tell her to speak to you.”

 

“I heard,” I said, touching her shoulder. I needed this moment to end. “Holly, I’m not blaming you. I’m not blaming my daughter. It’s just uncomfortable to walk into your home and

 

 

find another woman cooking over your stove and speaking to your daughter about something that happened before either of you entered my life.”

 

I hadn’t raised my tone, but the tone of my words had stung her. She lost the confident position of her shoulders. Her eyes dimmed. We had become equal in the awkwardness.

 

“I’m sorry,” she hugged me.

 

I let go first. “Uh huh.”

 

“I’ll finish dinner and then I’ll go on home.” “Good,” I patted her back. “I’m going to check on the

 

children.” I started to walk away, but couldn’t. “Oh, Holly?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I told you before we’re trying to cut down on red

 

meat.”

 

She looked over at the steaks on the counter. “He wanted them.”

 

“He did? He asked for them?”

 

“Yes, I asked what he wanted for dinner.” She said. The intimacy of that–I bit into my bottom lip. “I’ll

 

speak to him, then.” I watched her look agreeable, but something else passed through her eyes. I nearly said the words that I had said to John. My level of discomfort over her note. I wanted to burden her with my knowledge. I wanted to; I didn’t. I wasn’t

 

 

ready to have that conversation with her. So, I did something I would never suggest to any patient. I avoided the situation by excusing myself to my bedroom.

 

I closed the door with everybody else on the other side of it. I didn’t go to the children. I didn’t know where they were. It was quiet. The peace in calmness, the quiet of that tranquility altered my body. I felt lighter. My bedroom was almost deathly quiet. This was my sanctuary. Often my most religious place; the bed I shared with John. I sunk into its softness and let it cradle me.

 

I had no prayer ritual. We hadn’t gone to church since Keema’s funeral. I only said quick prayers when I wasn’t thinking totally of God. Like, Oh my god, what am I going to do? The casual interpretation of the existence some people craved to be closer to. I knew lying there what they felt. I craved a connection just then. I wanted to say something to hold me closer to earth, to someone who was larger than the deepest hurt. That’s what it was. I was hurting. I had no words for it. And no one to hold me through it. I closed my eyes to hold prisoner the tears.

 

I lay waiting. For what? I didn’t exactly know.

 

 

I don’t know how long I laid there until I fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

When I opened my eyes again, the sun had disappeared west. It took its warmth and left behind a blue-black starless night. Only an hour had passed. I felt absolutely alone in the house.

 

Loneliness I hadn’t known since my sister’s death, and subsequently, when John and I separated. After losing Sam, many nights were spent lying in dark rooms, waiting. Then, it was for my sister to return. For the truth of her death to be a lie made up only in my head. The truth was harder to accept in my being. Losing her, even with our occasional unhealthy bond, required something more than I was willing to give. It was the same for John. In a way I hadn’t been able to fully tell him, he filled the places Sam left gaping and wounded. I trusted him with the same degree I trusted Sam. My twin. We’d shared Mama’s womb. With John, it was often as if we’d grown together in another place and found our way back to each other in this place.

 

“Marlena?” Holly’s small voice and soft knock disturbed the peace.

 

If I didn’t answer, she would assume I was still napping. I tried to pretend. I closed my eyes tight. The darkness erupted into a single tear. It broke loose and rolled

 

 

down my cheek. Sam and I had this game of pretend, where she taught me how to go inside and become a study of stone. She’d learned to do so when kids teased her about her lisp in grade school. We would lie in bed holding our breaths and hands until we felt like statues.

 

It didn’t work without Sam.

 

“Yes, Holly…” I called out. I dried my cheek with my hand and sat flush against the headboard. My legs were extended in front of me. I folded my hands over my lap.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“Come.”

 

She entered with a glass of white wine in hand. A cautious smile as greeting. “I thought you might want one of these.” She came to the side of the bed where I was. The side where John’s book had lain. “It’s chilled.”

 

It was so quiet.

 

“Where are the children?”

 

She sat down. “They’re having dinner. Nick came home after you came up here.”

 

I accepted the glass by the stem. “Has my husband come in?” This new habit of calling him that surprised the both of us. “John…” I said as an afterthought.

 

Her eyes flew to the table, and then slowly circled

 

 

around to the book in the trash.

 

“We haven’t heard from him.”

 

The chill of the glass cooled my hand. “He had a meeting.” I took my first swallow of the sweet wine.

 

“With Mr. Christman,” she answered.

 

“Mr. Christman?”

 

“He’s the guy in charge of encouraging John to run.” She met my eyes. “He told me that you all had discussed it. Christman is this little spout of a man. He will annoy you, I assure you.” She was speaking giddily as she shared this information.

 

“You’ve met him,” I asked, drawing my knees to my chest. Away from her.

 

“Yes, he came to the house while you were in New

 

York.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Marlena.” She had come into my room for something. This was her moment. She steadied her eyes and placed her hand over my lap. “Is there something going on? I mean, are you upset with me?”

 

“I’m not,” I said calmly.

 

“Not about that thing with Jules earlier?”

 

“No.”

 

 

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a little distant

 

lately.”

 

The heat of her hand warmed mine. “Have I?” I asked coyly. “I haven’t noticed. I have so much going on, the tour and book. The kids.” All of these excuses felt as flimsy as the shirt caressing her olive skin. It was sheer, black, half-opened to a dark camisole.

 

“I hope you would tell me if you we had an issue, one that I’m not aware of. We are friends.”

 

I agreed. “Yes, we are.”

 

“Next time any of the children have any more uncomfortable questions, I’ll tell them it’s not my place to speak about it and to come directly to you.”

 

“That would be a great idea.”

 

“Okay.” She stood, withdrawing her heat. “I’m going to get going. Ben’s waiting.”

 

“Have a good night.”

 

“You, too.”

 

She left behind the soft fruity perfume that she wore. It mingled on her clothes and skin with the meal she’d prepared. She happened to be a very capable cook. Of course Noodle would have asked her for lessons. I still had trouble not burning boiling water. Holly had tried to teach me basics. She’d put

 

 

together a little manual of the basics. Simple meals that my children loved. Holly earnestly attempted to reverse my disdain for being in the kitchen. It just wasn’t a place I would ever be comfortable in. Her little book was crammed into the back of one of the junk drawers in the kitchen.

 

I listened for her footfalls on the stairs. She had a distinct way of letting her tiny feet pad along with enough sound to signal her arrival and departure. She was heading downstairs slowly. More than likely replaying our conversation in her mind. It was a habit that she’d admitted once to having. She was nervous. Wine made her less so. I’d smelled it on her breath.

 

It calmed her. For me, it could relax but also weaken my self-control, make me unnecessarily giddy. How many nights had John and I made very clumsy love after I’d consumed just one drink? I wasn’t planning on making love to him. I wasn’t certain that I was even speaking to him. Holly had revealed new things, things that I didn’t know.

 

I took the last three sips from the glass. The cool sweet liquid went down smoothly. When I stood, it was too quickly. The room tilted a little. A burst of light flashed before my eyes. I sat back down, took a breath. It took a minute to get back to my feet, solidly. I stood again. I took measured

 

 

steps toward the hall. The children’s voices echoed from downstairs. Nicky’s voice dominated the others. They were tangling around each other. Noodle. Noah. And John, I realized when I gripped the wooden railing standing at the top of the stairs. He must have come in through the garage. Holly was still here, laughing too loudly at whatever they were discussing.

 

“Where’s Mom?” I heard John ask.

 

They’re answer might have been to point upstairs. I didn’t hear him again until he was climbing the stairs with his tie in hand. He was wearing a grin so filled with pleasure that it reminded me of the moment in the kitchen between Holly and Noodle. I smiled back because I couldn’t help myself.

 

“You were tired?” John asked reaching the top stair. He came instinctively over to me for a kiss. I tightened my lips smiling as he touched my mouth with his. He lingered, “Hey…something happen?”

 

I drew back, crossing my arms around myself. “Tired,”

 

I told him. “Are you just getting home?”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Were you heading down?”

 

I shrugged.

 

“Come talk to me a minute,” he pulled at me to follow him into our bedroom.

 

I planted my feet sturdily in the carpet.

 

 

“They’ll be fine for a minute.” He circled my wrist with his larger hand. “Come on.”

 

I turned toward him, “Is she still here?”

 

“She?” he looked genuinely confused. “Holly? She was heading out when I came in.”

 

“Oh,” I said, pulling at the inside of my lower lip with my teeth.

 

“Doc?”

 

“I’m going to check on the children.” I decided.

 

He was troubled by me pulling away, turning away from him. “I wanted to tell you about the meeting.”

 

“You don’t have to.” His heavy hands slid down my sides coming to rest on my hips. I had no choice but to face him, the cold resolve, and questions in his eyes.

 

“What is this?”

 

It came so easily from my mouth. There was no bartering. The truth was all I had. “You’ve put my head in a weird space, this thing with Holly.”

 

He tightened his mouth; his hands grew heavier on my sides. “There is no thing between me and Holly, Marlena.”

 

My heart started pounding, hard. That Marlena meant something that someone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have guessed. It wasn’t said harshly, but it said something. I could

 

 

probably count on my hand how many times he called me Marlena in a day. “May I go see my children, Mr. Black?” I asked coolly.

 

He closed his eyes, exhaling. “What is that?”

 

“John, please…”

 

“Are we arguing?”

 

“I’m not,” I said, trying to release his grip on my body. It reminded me that he was stronger than I was.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Would you like the truth?” I asked, negotiating how much I wanted to say standing there.

 

“It would help.”

 

“It makes me uncomfortable now. Holly being here…” I saw her standing in my kitchen with my daughter. The image curled my stomach. “I came home today and her being here, seeing her in my kitchen. She’s cooking. She knows everything about doing that. I don’t.” I was rambling. John was trying to follow. I was trying to not shed a tear. He started stroking my arm, my cheek.

 

“I mean, I don’t care. I didn’t. She’s a big help. I think she is a good person, but you’ve made me suspicious of her. Both of you. And then she’s cooking for you, John. Cooking for my children…”

 

“Honey, you don’t like cooking…” he said when I

 

 

paused.

 

An inconvenient chill ran up my spine. “That was really insensitive.”

 

He laughed a little. “You don’t.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Hey, hey…come on, Doc.” He was still laughing lightly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never known you to be intimidated by another woman’s presence. Come on.”

 

I’m not a violent person, but I wanted to cross his face with my hand as hard as I could. Instead, I pulled away. “Let me,” I said when he refused to ease his grip. “I don’t want to do this.”

 

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing. I keep telling you.” “Obviously, I’m not hearing you.” I told him, trying

 

again to free myself. “Let me go, John.”

 

He drew his hands away dramatically. He lifted them above his head with his palms facing me. “This is ridiculous,” he said.

 

“I agree. I’ll stop being ridiculous if you let me pass. I’m going to check on the children.”

 

He moved aside. Walking away was my intention. I had gathered the anger and stubbornness for a reason. I wanted to walk away. But he looked into my eyes, and I couldn’t.

 

 

“Your daughter told Holly that I was crazy when I had Nicky. They were discussing my life like they had a right to it,” I said, feeling tears in the thick of my throat. “I’m her mother and your wife. I don’t want to be a stranger in my own house. If that’s ridiculous…”

 

“Hey,” he reached for me.

 

“No…”

 

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me that?”

 

“Because it might be ridiculous,” I admitted. “Listen to me,” he was holding me and I didn’t know

 

how. “This is your house. Those are our kids. If you want Holly gone, then that’s what we’ll do. Do you hear me?”

 

I did. I didn’t say so, but I did.

 

“You don’t have any reason to be threatened, if that’s what this is. Doc, I’m at a loss here. I don’t know where this came from. I love you.”

 

“I know that,” I said.

 

“Then act like it.”

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Mr. Integrity

 

“John wouldn’t do that to you,” Hope had said with absolute conviction before she walked away to tend our meal. She was standing over the smokey grill turning chicken breasts spearing into the thickest part of the meat with the ends of a long silver fork. Juice trickled down the browning skin into the glowing embers beneath the rack. I could hear its sizzle over the grasshoppers. With each flick of her wrist the bracelets that circled her tiny arm glimmered in the sunlight. Always rail thin, she looked casual and youthful in khaki capris and a light blue tank top. A cross clustered with diamonds hung loosely at her throat.

 

I squinted against the mirror-glaze of the sun that beamed directly overhead in the openness of Bo and Hope’s

 

 

backyard. The grill sat on a small plateau of grass a few feet away from the back cemented patio where I was laying in a cushiony lounger. Hope had fixed a pitcher of strawberry daiquiris and filled my glass to its brim, topping it off with a small mountain of whipped creme. Beads of water slid down the body of her lemon colored glass on the table where she’d left it. I held on to my drink. The second I’d had since she’d blended them inside and brought out the pitcher on a red and white patterned tray.

 

The frozen slush had a kick. Gin, I believe. I’d started off slipping slowly but the turn of our conversation shortened the time between gulps of the slushy mixture. She’d asked, point-blank, “What’s going on there?” after John had taken the boys into the yard to play touch football with Bo. Noodle and Ciara had already disappeared into the house.

 

It was a reaction to the way that John and I were behaving. A weird energy had encircled us. We were moving awkwardly around each other, behaving oddly towards one another. He wasn’t reaching for my hand, and I wasn’t leaning closer for reassuring kisses. When I spoke, it was to one of the children or Hope and Bo. John was guilty of this too. He didn’t attempt to address me directly. It had been this way for days. We hadn’t discussed anything since the night on the stairs, but it was

 

 

because I hadn’t wanted to discuss it. Not with him. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about all of that, about Holly being removed from our everyday lives, from John’s life.

 

It felt like betrayal; I had developed a certain loyalty to Holly. That was unexplainable to even the best shrink.

 

I just wanted a day when I wasn’t thinking about Holly or John, or Holly and John.

 

Hope and I had decided this morning to get the children together for a barbecue because our families hadn’t been together lately and because my schedule was absolutely clear, I agreed. I had no phone interviews about the book or calls to return to Yuri. And John was finally back home. He had gone away for two nights on business to Switzerland. It had come up so suddenly, and conveniently, right in the midst of our misunderstandings, that I didn’t send him away with any pleasantries. He’d gone without any of our customary goodbye lovemaking; there had been no kisses or hugs. Not even a real goodbye. He’d phoned the children from the plane to tell them he was going away. I had hovered around them, listening, waiting for him to ask to speak to me but after Nicky said goodbye he promptly ended the call. He didn’t call at all while he was away. Not me or the children. It let me know that he was as

 

 

unhappy with my attitude as I was with his behavior.

 

When he returned home last night, the children and I had gone about our night as though he wasn’t there because he hadn’t been for two days. They didn’t seem to notice the tension or him when he decided to return. We were having pizza for supper in the family room while watching Shrek when he had come in to say hello to us. His phone was attached to his ear.

 

Nicky and Noodle were lying on the floor with their eyes trained on the movie. He stooped to kiss them both hello. They barely responded so engrossed in the movie were they. It was almost ten’oclock in the evening. I could not imagine who he needed to talk to at this time of night, especially after being away. So important that he couldn’t hang up to give the children a proper hello.

 

He looked over the children’s heads, finally noticing that I was watching him. My head started shaking almost involuntarily. He stood and came over to me and Noah. We were reclining in his chair. He leaned down to kiss Noah first, then swiftly moved up to press his lips against mine. I turned away; his lips landed on my cheek. He gave me a wounded confused husband look before scurrying out of the room.

 

 

Noah was in my lap half-asleep. He’d been glued to my side lately. He had been sleeping in our bedroom since John had gone away. He was like another limb. When Noah’s weight started to numb my legs I stopped the movie and ushered the children to bed. John was still on the phone. I heard him in the office as I led the children in a train upstairs.

 

Noah was spidered around me. He whined when I tried loosening his legs and arms to lay him in his bed. “It’s bedtime, sweetie.”

 

“I want you,” he cried.

 

Being with him everyday was unrooting the slight independence he was unknowingly developing while I was away on the book tour.

 

“Baby, I’m here,” I said, sitting on his bed. His body was still a tight vice around mine.

 

“I want to sleep in your bed.”

 

I squeezed him. “Daddy’s home.”

 

“He can sleep with us,” he told me as his moist breath pressed into my neck.

 

“Daddy wants you to sleep in your bed,” I reminded

 

him.

 

“Where is Daddy,” he yawned leaning away to look into

 

my eyes.

 

 

“Downstairs.”

 

“You can ask.”

 

“Ask what, Sweetie?”

 

“If I can sleep with you and Daddy.”

 

I smiled. “Can I now?”

 

“Yep.”

 

I kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t say ‘yep’.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s incorrect.”

 

“How do I know that?”

 

“Mama just told you so,” I said, stroking his soft cheek. “Why are you all the sudden so talkative? You were so sleepy a moment ago.”

 

“I don’t know,” he laughed lightly. “So can we?”

 

“Can we what?”

 

“Ask Daddy.”

 

“He’s probably really sleepy. He’s been flying all day, Noah. I’ll tell you what, we’ll read a story and I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

 

“No,” he shook his head.

 

“What do you mean no?” I laughed.

 

“I don’t like waking up without you, Mama.”

 

I hugged him tight. “You’re such a sweet boy. Mama

 

 

doesn’t like waking up without you either.”

 

“Good. You’re a good Mama.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes,” he nearly shouted. “I love you more than Holly. She’s not my Mama.”

 

“No, she isn’t. She takes great care of you though when Mama is away, doesn’t she?”

 

He shook his head. “She likes Daddy more than she likes Noah.”

 

“Why do you think so?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. “I mean, what makes you say that.”

 

“She does,” he said. A child’s resolve. No absolutes. “I don’t like her.”

 

“I’ve gathered, Noah.” I decided to change the subject. “We’ll sleep here,” I said. “Climb into bed.”

 

He started to unlatch his arms, “Mama, I forgot to

 

brush.”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

He hopped down and stumbled a little before landing flat on his barefoot. “Bad move,” he said, smiling and then turning to scurry from the room.

 

I followed him into the bathroom that he shared with Nicky. He grabbed his Spongebob toothbrush from the holder after

 

 

stepping onto the wooden stool in front of the sink. I turned on the water, watching him spread toothpaste on his toothbrush. He brushed carefully. I waited, counting to ten in my head. Seeing Holly’s face after each number. And John being liked by Holly. My son’s opinion mattered. As childish and immature as it was, it was settling in my stomach.

 

“Is this good?” he asked widening his lips to show his sudsy teeth.

 

“Yes, now rinse.”

 

“Okay Mama.” Noah held his toothbrush under the faucet to let water wash over the bristles. He tapped it against the sink twice and then replaced it in the holder. He then filled his Spiderman cup and swished his mouth clean. He poured out the rest of the water and then put the cup back next to the solid blue cup that Nicky used.

 

“Clean?” he asked, showing his teeth again.

 

“Yes, very clean. Bedtime.”

 

He hopped off the stool and sprinted out of the bathroom. I stayed behind to wipe down the sink. When I turned the corner, John was there holding Noah in the hall. Noah was giggling against John’s tickling fingers.

 

“Mama help,” Noah cried out, squirming. “Daddy is tickling me to death.”

 

 

His grasp of language was impressive. I laughed and went to try to save him from John. “Grab onto Mama,” I said reaching for Noah. He curled over toward my arms. His cheeks filled with air, his face with pleasure. He was laughing loudly.

 

“Whose side are you on Mommy?” John pulled Noah away playfully. They were towering over me in my bare feet.

 

“Mine,” Noah squealed. He erupted into another bellyful of giggles.

 

“You heard him,” I answered with a firm grip on Noah.

 

John loosened his hold and Noah came tumbling into my arms.

 

“Traitor.” John patted Noah’s back. He pointed toward us. “There will be a rematch, kid.”

 

“No way, Daddy.” Noah tucked himself close. He hid his face in the folds of my neck as he calmed down.

 

John loosened his shirt and tie. “Are his comrades

 

asleep?”

 

“Probably not.” I started rubbing Noah’s back gently. His little body was resisting the sleep it needed. “You might want to go in and say goodnight to them,” I couldn’t resist saying, “…since you didn’t have a chance to while you were away.”

 

John closed his eyes and then opened them up just as swiftly. “Doc,” He rubbed at his chest slowly. “I was under the

 

 

gun the entire time.”

 

I shrugged. “I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just suggesting that you to tell your children good night.”

 

He pressed his lips together tightly. To preserve

 

peace.

 

“Good night, Daddy,” Noah said quietly. He was growing heavier and sleepier in my arms. “Mommy’s sleeping with me tonight.”

 

John rubbed Noah’s head. “Is she?” Noah answered with a sleepy nod. “Maybe you can let me have her for a little bit?”

 

“What’s a little bit?”

 

“Enough to talk about Daddy’s trip.”

 

I interrupted the negotiation of my time between my son and his father. “We don’t need to talk about your trip.”

 

“Mama doesn’t want to talk.”

 

“I’ve heard, son.”

 

I blinked under the pressure of his eyes over Noah. I had been slowly moving away from John. The wall was now at my back.

 

“Is this about my trip?”

 

“It’s not about anything. I mean, I did find it unusual that you would go away so abruptly and not call every now and again to at the very least check in. I understand busy.

 

 

I’ve been busy for two years, but I never go away and not call. We don’t do that to each other.” It was more than I should have said. Standing there with our sleepy son listening.

 

“Doc?” John traced his thumb along my jaw.

 

“I can’t talk about this now,” I motioned toward Noah. “When can you?” he breathed. “Maybe I didn’t call

 

because I knew this is the communication, excuse me, the non-communication I would get.”

 

“So, you weren’t busy?”

 

He lifted my chin. “I was.”

 

Noah’s arms fell like dead weight against my body. “I’m going to put him into bed.”

 

“Let me.” John reached to take Noah. He was curved so warmly into me that his lost caused a sudden chill.

 

The transfer from me to John stirred him. “Daddy?” “It’s me, baby. Your old man is going to tuck you into

 

bed. Is that all right with you?” He reached for me. “Mama’s coming, too.”

 

I followed his footsteps holding Noah’s hand over John’s shoulder as he passed Noah’s room for ours. He made a sympathetic figure holding my baby boy against his broad chest. Kissing Noah as he lowered him into our bed. He moved him to the middle and pulled the blanket over his body.

 

 

“No matter how many times we go through this, it still amazes me how quickly they grow up. Remember when we brought him home?” John climbed into bed and pulled Noah to him. “I wasn’t sure if we could or should do it,” he admitted.

 

“You weren’t?” I hadn’t known that. I sat on the other side of Noah, on my side of the bed. “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why weren’t you sure?”

 

John looked up. “We’d just been through hell. You were raw about Keema, about that animal attacking you. Fragile as hell. I didn’t know if you could handle it. I held you every night. I felt those nightmares shaking your body.”

 

I had forgotten. Thankfully. All I remembered was the smell of a newborn baby and John. The way Noah’s soft hair felt against my skin. And Noodle and Nicky fighting for my attention. All those glorious things had removed the harsher memories.

 

“You’re an amazing woman, honey…but you’re an even better mother. That’s when I knew for sure. I only had to see Noah in your arms to know that we’d all be fine.”

 

This was the man I had fallen in love with. This John who stroked Noah’s hair while staring into my eyes. He knew me well. Too well. I wanted to let the walls drop between us, if not just to keep the warm feeling between us growing. But, he

 

 

knew me too well. He knew what to say to break those walls. How could I stay upset at him for not calling, for Holly, for his cavalier dismissal during our argument when he was looking at me with those eyes?

 

“I’m going to have a bath,” I said, standing.

 

“A bath?” He repeated, dazed.

 

“Yes, I’m feeling a little grubby.”

 

“I’m going to say goodnight to those other two rascals and then maybe join you?”

 

I shook my head slowly.

 

“No?”

 

“This thing…I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be dismissed by making love. I want to figure it out and I can’t do that when we make love.”

 

“I told you…”

 

I stopped him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“For you to leave me alone for a little bit. Let me

 

think.”

 

“Doc?”

 

“I mean it, John. Please, just give me some space to

 

think.”

 

He moved out of the bed gently. “Whatever you say. I’m

 

 

going to tell my kids goodnight. I think they’re still talking to me.”

 

I bit into my cheek. What I wanted to say stayed behind my lips. I watched him leave and then after walking into our bathroom, I locked the door behind me. I couldn’t be sure that if John came to me that I would be able to turn him down.

 

When I emerged, bathed and oiled, he was not in bed. Noah had rolled into his spot. He had kicked off the blankets. I pulled them back over his curled body and then went to check on Noodle and Nicky. Noodle was tucked in bed sleeping. Nicky’s bed was empty; his television was playing a baseball game.

 

I found Nicky and John in the family room watching the same game that had been playing in Nicky’s room. They were sitting side by side on the couch. Nicky’s head rested on John’s arm while he explained something about the game animatedly. I backed out of the room before they saw me, heading to bed.

 

Hope came back from turning the meat and laid in the lounger beside mine. We were staring out into the yard at Bo, John, and the boys. She pulled her sunglasses from her hair down over her brilliant jade eyes. “That man is entirely devoted to you and those kids, Marlena. The John that I know couldn’t and

 

 

wouldn’t do that to you.”

 

They were playing touch football but every now and then John would stand tall, put his hand on his side, and look my way.

 

I turned toward Hope. Had she lost her mind? She might have forgotten. We all wanted to forget but it was still a part of my memory. Those few months when we all believed that JT was John’s son. All of the ugly arguments and quasi-separations that came as a result. When John confessed his big secret, I felt as if I were losing my mind as well as the love of my life. I just couldn’t imagine, or even stomach really, that John had been with someone else. That he had given another woman the sacred gift of being the mother of his child. But maybe her memory had given her the gift of forgetting. Why else could she say with such conviction what my husband would do?

 

“You’re more certain than I am.”

 

“Trust me.”

 

I did trust Hope. We had once been sisters-in-laws while I was married to Roman. And friends even if I wasn’t with Roman. There had always been a connection there. We rebuilt a healthy friendship after those troubling times, after her and John’s encounter. I couldn’t call it an affair. They hadn’t done the kind of things that people having affairs do. I knew very

 

 

well how those functioned. John taught me; I taught Roman. When I broke my marriage vows to Roman for John, even

 

before I broke them, I had already given John something that wasn’t his to have. It was a total mind thing. He took over my every thought. I would sit around my home, with my children and husband there, thinking about another man. Thinking about John. Where he was? What he was doing? Thinking of the times and ways we had made love when we both thought he was Roman, and then those times after we knew he wasn’t.

 

Years later, I convinced myself that I had convinced him that he was my husband. He had taken such good care of me and the children before we were even shown proof that I know now I wanted to believe it. I needed to. It’s why our affair was so easy. It didn’t feel like one until I wasn’t with him, when I had to return home with Roman and think about us. Those were the times I felt the guilt the most. I couldn’t stop comparing my husband to him. Wishing that I was with him instead of there with my family.

 

That’s what affairs looked and felt like.

 

What John had with Hope was ugly, but it wasn’t an affair. It was one night that neither of them remembered. That’s what you tell yourself when you say that you have forgiven, but not forgotten. It hadn’t meant anything. It was a physical act.

 

 

It didn’t compare to our life and the love he felt for me. It might have destroyed me if I thought that he actually loved Hope.

 

“It wasn’t us,” Hope touched my shoulder lifting her glasses and lowering her eyes. As though she were reading all that was running through my memory.

 

“I know.” It didn’t hurt less, but I had come to some kind of resolution with it. “This isn’t that, Hope. This is something different.” I couldn’t tell Hope what I thought it was. I didn’t know.

 

“What does it feel like?”

 

I smiled through my sadness. “You sound like a therapist.”

 

“I’ve learned from one of my best friends,” she smiled back. “Honey, I don’t know much about Holly. I do know John and how he feels about you.”

 

“He’s doing suspicious things,” I said, feeling guilty. He wasn’t being suspicious now. He was swinging our little boy in the air while Nicky swatted at his feet.

 

Hope sat up and turned toward my chair. “Lying?”

 

“No, he doesn’t lie,” I said, processing the

 

unexamined feelings I’d been burying. “He’s too damn truthful.” “He is mister integrity, Marlena. Hell, I trust his

 

 

word more than I trust Bo’s.”

 

My mouth dropped involuntarily open. “Really?”

 

“John Black?” She lifted her eyebrows with

 

exaggeration. “Have we met? He truly is mister integrity.”

 

“Is it me? Am I guilty because I’m not there and Holly is…” She came to mind, her gentle face. “She’s taking my place,” I said quietly, out loud, for the first time.

 

“I would understand if that were the case, but why would you be suspicious of John? If all Holly is doing is being too good at her job for your liking, how does that translate into your suspicions about John and her. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? Or not saying. That you think there is something going on between John and your nanny.”

 

It was like a drum sounded in my head. Suddenly, I had a splitting headache. “I really have no idea,” I admitted, touching my temple.

 

“Another drink?” she asked, seeing my empty glass.

 

I had finished the last one and was stilling holding onto the cool glass. The chilly surface gave a small reprieve against the afternoon heat. My shoulders and neck were exposed in the off the shoulder salmon maxi dress I wore. My skin always burned quickly in the blazing sun. I’d forgotten to put on sunscreen after I made sure all of the children had theirs on

 

 

before we left home.

 

“Two drinks is probably enough. You know me and drinks have never been really great companions.”

 

“I wish I had your tolerance. It takes a great deal of these to loosen my reins.”

 

“I’ve never been able to handle it. John loves that about me. My inability to control myself after a drink or two.”

 

“You too?” she laughed.

 

I rolled my eyes. “Embarrassingly so. I’ve done things after drinks that I might never have thought to do sober.”

 

The night Holly brought me wine, John had hoped things might go in that direction. I saw the hungry look in his eyes when I’d finally come to bed later. When he reached for me, I’d turned away and fallen into a hazy alcohol crowded slumber.

 

“Okay, well let me definitely get you another…” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

 

I shrugged. “Actually, do you have sunscreen? I’m burning in this sun. And my head,” I rubbed the throb with two fingertips, “is pounding. It may be the sun. Do you have anything?”

 

“Yes, it’s upstairs in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. Sunscreen, too.” Her narrow fingers measured the temperature of my skin. “Maybe you should get out of the sun for

 

 

a while. I can manage this for a while without you.”

 

I searched her face. “Are you certain?”

 

“Sure, I’ll fix another pitcher, just in case.”

 

I squeezed Hope’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll be back. Keep an eye on my guys.”

 

I slid into my wedge sandals on the ground beside the lounger and rose to my feet. The two drinks had gone to my head, but I didn’t realize until I tried to walk a smooth path into the house. Slowly, I made my way through the patio door into the kitchen. The remnants of Hope’s meal preparation occupied her countertops. Diced celery lay in neat piles on the blue tiled counter for the potato salad. The smell of opened eggs assailed my nose. She’d split the shells and sliced into the hardened yolks, leaving them on a cutting board beside an empty white bowl.

 

Hope entered the house behind me. She was carrying the empty pitcher and our two glasses on the tray. “I forgot all about the mac and cheese,” she said, setting the tray down and heading to pull open the oven door. She pulled on an oven mitt and slid the hot oven rack out of its cave. She bent to smell the delicious scent of baked cheese.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

I had stopped to watch her in awe. She looked the way

 

 

a wife and mother should in their home. “Sometimes, I wish I were more like you and Maggie.”

 

She lifted the pan of mac and cheese from the rack. “How’s that?”

 

“You know,” I stammered, not having the appropriate way to convey my thoughts. Without sounding condescending. “I wish I could cook and be this way for John. He’s never had that with me.”

 

“He married what he wanted. I’m sure he knows what he has in you.”

 

“…maybe that’s the problem,” I whispered, walking away before Hope had a chance to answer.

 

Hope’s house had always reminded me of the house that Roman and I bought together and lived in as a family. Quaint and neat, small enough for their family but not limiting. We had plenty parties and picnics there. It fit Bo and Hope’s personalities to a tee. They were both salt of the earth, hard-working people. They loved their family and jobs. Their walls were covered with framed photos of their children and the granddaughter that we shared. Of family gatherings over the years. In some of them, I was Roman’s wife. In others, I belonged to John. It used to trouble me to think what others must be thinking of when they spotted the telling pictures. Our

 

 

circle of friends was so intimate. I’m not sure how they had learned to live with the awkward transition. John had made it easy for me by insulating us from the outside world. He loved me beyond my own embarrassment. He taught me not to care. But I always wondered.

 

I headed up to the second floor where the girly chatter between my daughter and Hope’s was barricaded behind Ciara’s purple bedroom door. I pressed my ear to the surface. They were only a year apart, and more like cousins than friends. Noodle and I hadn’t talked about what she had said to Holly. She was like me in that regard. She’d avoided having any conversation with me about what happened. She looked so terrified whenever we found ourselves in a room alone that I couldn’t bring myself to force a discussion. If she had said what she did to Ciara, it wouldn’t be so troubling. That she chose Holly to express her unchecked thoughts to wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. It was the same intimacy I had trouble accepting between her father and Holly.

 

Leaning against Ciara’s door, I heard Noodle’s voice. She was talking about a boy. Thankfully, not us or me, her disturbed mother. She had just the right amount of animation about a crush. Generic things about his eye appeal and niceness. Ciara didn’t agree. She said so confidently. Noodle then

 

 

respectfully disagreed. It made my heart smile. Hope and I were raising two young girls to become women who could love and respect each other without tearing each other down. That was important to both of us–having confident daughters.

 

I left them to their crushes, feeling lighter. A little more peaceful than I had come. Hope’s bedroom door was at the end of the curved hallway. Earthy browns warmed the immaculate space. I took off my shoes at the door. The blush colored carpet cradled the arches of my feet. I filled my lungs with the smell of patchouli. A nice clean, serene smell. Nothing in their bedroom was out of place. Their bed was perfectly made. Pillows fluffed and situated against an orange quilt. There were crosses everywhere. It implemented a certain humility. Large intricately designed wooden crosses hung on the wall above her cherrywood headboard. They sat upright on the dresser and vanity, sitting in a lonely corner of the room. They were even on the back of the his and her sinks in their bathroom.

 

I pulled open the mirror hiding their medicine cabinet. It was a very personal place. One’s life could be deciphered by the contents of the shelves. Four plates of glass held the elements of Bo and Hope’s interior lives. Birth control pills. Contact solution. Toothpaste. Whitening strips. Floss. There were four cloudy orange bottles of prescribed medicine. I

 

 

lifted one. Bo had a prescription for Viagra. I couldn’t imagine a marriage as sexually healthy as theirs seemed to be would need any help. I didn’t want to judge, but just being around each other instigated any sexual energy that John and I needed. Our sex got better and better. Even when I wanted to kill him I couldn’t force myself to stop wanting him. I wondered what needing help to make love to me would do to a man like John. What was it doing to Bo?

 

I eased thoughts of Bo’s “problem” away by giving the bottle a slight turn on the shelf. Enough to hide what they were from other people who ventured into the medicine cabinet. It wasn’t my business.

 

There were two other prescriptions. An anti-depressant for Hope. I had once prescribed her some when she was having issues with Bo about his daughter Chelsea. The bottle was more than half full. The last bottle contained a muscle relaxer prescribed to Bo. milligrams. It was a strong dose in a tiny white pill. I couldn’t remember if Bo had a recent injury that required such a strong pain killer. He was as active as any man his age should be. He still boated and played sports. As a member of the police force, he had to maintain a certain level of health consciousness. If he’d been hurt it had happened out of the realm of my knowing.

 

 

I visually bypassed the muscle relaxers and moved on to the Tylenol. I picked it up to unscrew the lid, shaking some into the palm of my hand. Two would suss the pain in my head and unsettle my stomach a little. One muscle relaxer would numb everything. The thought came so quickly, I couldn’t tamp it down. I didn’t force it away. I took two Tylenol and put the others back into the bottle. I placed it back on the shelf and picked up the muscle relaxers. One. I only took one from the bottle, pinched it between my fingertips and popped it into my mouth. Swallowing it dry, I turned on the faucet and cupped some water into my hand, letting the tylenol fall down the drain as I sipped at the puddle in my hand. The bitter taste of the pill grew wet and disappeared. So did the guilt in what I had just done.

 

The sunscreen was on the last shelf. I grabbed it and closed the cabinet to my reflection. The skin across my shoulders was red and blotchy. It hurt to look at, even worst to touch. I clicked open the lid.

 

“That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” John said, startling me. The bottle of sunscreen crashed to the ground. It splattered across the carpeted floor. “I’m sorry that I scared you.”

 

We stared down at the mess instead of at each other. “I didn’t hear you come in,” I said hitting my knees

 

 

quickly. How long he had been standing there. His past enabled him to quietly enter rooms and watch without ever being detected. “This will stain.”

 

“Here, I’ll clean it up.” He covered my hands. “Hope said you weren’t feeling well.”

 

I stood nervously. “I’m not. My head….” I

 

remembered. “I think it’s the sun.”

 

“It is beating hard out there. Look at your skin,” he trailed his finger across the blotchiness. “Come here, you sit and I’ll get this cleaned up and then we can put something on to help.” He walked me over to Hope’s bed, and I sat down. He went back to the bathroom and started looking under the stink for something to clean up the mess we’d made.

 

His hair was shining with sweat. He was wearing all black. T-shirt and jeans. I could smell him, the powerful mix of cologne he’d worn for years and sweat. The powerful mix of the pill I’d just swallowed and two drinks stole my concentration. It was suddenly hard for me to stay in a sitting position. I laid back and closed my eyes. I didn’t like numbness, but I hated feeling helpless to my emotions. I hated how I couldn’t get Holly and John out of my head. Or how Noodle’s voice sounded when she spoke about my past illness. But what had I done? What was I thinking?

 

 

I sat back upright. “John…” I hated the weakness in

 

my voice.

 

He was there instantly. “Honey?”

 

“Do you know what Noah said to me last night?”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“He said that Holly likes Daddy more than she likes

 

Noah.”

 

He sighed. “Oh, come on Doc. When are you going to get tired of this subject? There is absolutely nothing going on with Holly. Nothing.”

 

“It doesn’t make this feeling in my stomach go away. It makes me want to push you away.”

 

“Doc.”

 

“John, I’m serious. I can’t…I can’t let you touch me. Or hold me. I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.”

 

“Where is this coming from?”

 

“You,” I said, feeling crowded with him bent his knees near my lap. “You and her. And my children. Are you punishing me for being away?”

 

“Doc, are you kidding me? I’m not punishing you for anything. I’ve been nothing but supportive with this book.”

 

“Life goes one when you’re not here,” I told him.

 

“What?”

 

 

“You said that to me,” I reminded him.

 

He hesitated, “It’s true.”

 

“Move,” I said pushing against his chest.

 

“What?” He asked. “You didn’t like that? I’m being

 

honest.”

 

“Move.”

 

“No, I’m not going to move. You’re going to sit there and talk about this.”

 

The pill was slowly lessening the tense line of my spine. I leaned over, close enough to feel his breath on the bridge of my nose. “When you thought I was carrying on with Dr. Shalit it drove you crazy,” I whispered slow and deliberately, “do you remember that? Remember how you couldn’t stop torturing yourself with that? You were so upset that you left me. You left me pregnant with our daughter. You left Nicky…”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “Marlena…” the tone was meant to silence me.

 

“John,” I said with my version of his tone. “You did.” He got closer, pressing his chest against my knees.

 

“So you’re thinking of leaving me?”

 

I raked my fingers wildly through my hair. Where was this conversation going? He was kneeling there with his nostrils flaring. Waiting.

 

 

Pillowed by alcohol and the pill, I risked his temper. “So that you can be with Holly?”

 

He flew up quickly. “You’ve had a few too many drinks. You’re not even making sense now.”

 

I stood, too. “Did I hit a nerve?”

 

“There is no nerve to hit,” he answered. “You’re insecure about a woman I have no interest in. None.”

 

My voice had lowered involuntarily. “Why do you keep saying those kinds of things to me?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he reached for me.

 

I pushed him away, “no, you’re not.”

 

“I am. I’m tired of this subject. I told you that we can let her go. It’ll be tough to find a replacement but I don’t want this to keep coming up.” He overpowered my will and pulled his body to mine. He buried his face in my hair, crossing his arms over my chest. “I can’t keep doing this. We don’t get much time together as it is. Do you think I want to spend it talking about another woman? About what you think is going on with another woman? Doc, there is nothing there. She’s an employee.”

 

“That you’ve grown close to…”

 

“But not in the way that you’re thinking.”

 

“Feeling…” I said, allowing his hug to comfort me.

 

“I miss you,” he whispered into my hair. “I miss

 

 

touching you.”

 

“John…” His hands met beneath my breasts. Over my stomach. One moved upward, cupping my breast softly. The other slid down to undo the button on my pants. He methodically kneaded both breasts while kissing my neck and letting his fingers traipse into my underwear.

 

“How long has it been?” he asked gravelly.

 

“John…no,” I managed around a moan.

 

We started swaying together. The rhythm belonged to him. “How long?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Too long. Don’t you miss us?” He moved to the other side of my neck, leaving moist kisses in a downward path. His hand had found the place it sought. “Please…” he begged, fingers parting and stroking my middle.

 

I widened my stance and let him hold the fullness of my weight. “…We can’t…do this…please don’t do this to me here.”

 

His mouth hovered over my ear. “Where?”

 

“Not here…Noodle and Ciara are down the hall.”

 

“I’ll close the door.”

 

“…No, no, no. Stop.” I pried his hands from my pants and put space between us. “John…” I turned around to face him,

 

 

“nothing has been resolved.”

 

He pulled me back close with a rough grip of my chin. “It will be. We’re going to fire Holly. That’s it.”

 

“I’m not sure that will solve anything.” He kissed me. Hard. It felt like a dismissal. “No, stop doing that. I don’t want to talk through sex.”

 

“Can we at least have sex?” he asked seriously. “I don’t get to have you anytime I want since you started touring. That’s not a complaint,” he added quickly. “You’ve been so pissed with me lately. You won’t let me touch you, you’ve stopped touching me. I’m missing you. I miss having you.”

 

“John.”

 

“I’m serious, Doc. That’s why we had New Orleans. I needed that time with you. I think we need some more.”

 

“You want to go away again?”

 

“I think we need to go away.”

 

“Without the children?”

 

“Yes, without the kids.”

 

I eyed him suspiciously. “I thought you wanted to fire

 

Holly?”

 

He rubbed his face. “Oh, come on Doc. Then the kids can come with us. I make love to you all the time with them in the house. I used to anyway.”

 

 

“Is this just about making love?”

 

“It’s about connecting with you. With our babies. Don’t you feel like we’re out of sorts? I do. I’ve felt it for some time. I just haven’t said anything.”

 

“Going away is going to solve things?”

 

“I hope it’ll smooth some things out.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I know you don’t but trust me.”

 

“Honey…I want to. I need to so badly. I need to get the vision of you and Holly out of my mind.”

 

“Let me help you,” he was standing as close as a breath. Reaching out, he spidered our hands together to pull me into a hug. I let him. I welcomed the hard lines of his body against mine. I welcomed his mouth as he started walked backwards, struggling to guide us into the bathroom. “I love you lady,” he whispered.

 

I swallowed his words and kisses. “Wait…close the door…” I said holding him from touching my lips again.

 

“Doc, I can’t keep stopping,” he grunted, kicking the door closed with his foot. “I need to touch you.”

 

“Come here…” I said softly.

 

He started to but stopped when I started undoing the buttons on my shirt. His eyes followed the slow movements of my

 

 

fingers pulling apart the panels of my shirt. I hadn’t done so purposely but I had on one of his favorite undergarments. A rose colored bra that my breasts spilled over. There were little petals strategically placed. It clasped in the front. John licked at his lips. He shook his head when I started to open it.

 

“No?” I questioned confused.

 

“I want to do it.”

 

“Then come over here,” I told him.

 

He moved over me like a hurricane. Lifting me as though I were weightless and wrapped my legs around him. His warm hands slid up my back to curve over my shoulders. He buried his face between my breasts and placed soft kisses there. In the distance, outside the window I could hear Nicky and Noah playing in the yard. He started kissing my neck. Teasing my skin with little nips of his teeth. I pulled his face to mine to feel his mouth against my lips.

 

“I miss you so damn much.”

 

“I miss you too,” I admitted. “I’ve been so upset with

 

you.”

 

“I know…I know. Doc, please…”

 

I slid down his body until my feet were on the floor. We moved in a smooth motion toward the sink. I was up on the counter helping John ease my pants down when a tiny knock

 

 

paralyzed John.

 

“Mama?”

 

“It’s Noah,” I whispered falling into John laughing.

 

He clenched his teeth. “That kid’s timing.”

 

“Mama…” he knocked again. “Mama, what are you doing? Can I come in?”

 

“Hold on, sweetie pie.” I said, climbing off the sink. “Mama?”

 

“I’m coming,” I said hurrying back into my shirt. “Are you sure you want them to come away with us?”

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Feel My Love

 

(Sunday : PM)

 

“Mama, I’m taking all these,” my youngest son announced. His eyes were as wide as saucers. In his arms were the clothes he’d cleared from the bottom drawer of his tall wooden dresser. Every piece that had been carefully folded and placed there. They fell to the ocean blue carpet beneath his bare feet. He knelt and began picking through the pile. “I need lots of shorts too.”

 

He was helping me pack his suitcase. It sat opened beside us on the carpet, empty. His brother and sister were in their own rooms doing the same. I planned to inspect theirs. But, I had to first finish with Noah who was being tedious and

 

 

nit-picky.

 

When a spark lit behind those hazel eyes at the chance to choose his own clothes, I knew it would become a chore. He’d offered to pack alone–like Nicky and Juliana. I didn’t have the heart to discourage his independence. So, I compromised to spare his feelings. Having packed for toddlers for most of my adult life, I could have three suitcases packed in under twenty minutes. Ten in a tight spot. Not so with my Noah. We had already spent thirty minutes alone in his closet just choosing a pair of tennis shoes, sandals, and water socks. He had to be talked out of bringing the red cowboy boots given to him by Edie. He finally had to agree that it was too hot for cowboy boots where he was going.

 

“Honey,” I tried to gain his attention. He was pressing his lips into a thin line of concentration searching the pile.

 

“Where is my shark shirt?” He turned back to the empty drawer. “Mama?” he asked, closing the drawer to open the one just above it. He yanked out a couple more pieces of folded clothes that made it into the growing heap in front of his suitcase. “I don’t see my shark shirt.”

 

“It’s probably underneath all of those,” I pointed to Noah’s growing pile. “Baby, you won’t need all of these

 

 

clothes.”

 

Noah stopped rummaging through the drawer and looked over his shoulder. “Seven days,” he told me as a matter of factly.

 

I held up my hand spreading my fingers wide apart. “Five days.”

 

He knelt down again. “Seven days in a week,” he told me, digging through the pile again.

 

“Correct but you’re not going away for a week, which is why you won’t need all those clothes.”

 

He cupped his forehead. “Mama you’re confusing.” “And you’re amusing, now choose a couple shirts and

 

bottoms,” I pointed at his pile, “so that we can finish packing.”

 

“Mama…” he began to protest when my phone vibrated and started glowing in my shirt pocket.”Is that my Godmommy?”

 

He gathered an armful of clothes. “Noah, don’t put those into that suitcase. We have to choose some,” I said answering my phone without looking at the screen.

 

“New York City in three days.”

 

“Yuri…” I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear to stand. “I should have let you roll over to voicemail,” I said shaking my head at Noah’s quiet insistence to sneak the

 

 

clothes into his suitcase. “I’m in the middle of packing.” “Very funny, golden girl, but I’m the guy who has your

 

best interests at heart.” He laughed, but I heard the serious overlay. “So, New York in three days. Ingrid and I have put together a blitz of appearances. A talk show, two signings, and you’re going to be the guest speaker at the women’s state conference. You can do one of those seminars you’re always asking to conduct.”

 

Noah was at my hip tapping. “Mama, is that Godmommy?” “No baby, it’s not,” I covered the phone. “Do me a

 

favor? Go find Daddy and tell him that you need your floaties from the pool house.”

 

He tilted his neck back slightly. An earnest look of protest followed the folding of his arms. “I don’t want to get my floaties. When is Godmommy coming?”

 

“Noah, do as your told. Go and find your Daddy.” I instructed calmly. With Noah, everything was becoming a battle. “We’ll finish packing after this call.”

 

“Gosh,” he mumbled, dropping his arms to his sides. “You could just say you want privacy.” He said, stumping out of the room.

 

“Marlena?’

 

“Sorry…I’m here, Yuri.” If not a little distracted.

 

 

Anymore, my time was about dividing and sharing. Noah’s mini-tantrum wasn’t justified but I understood his reaction. My babies missed having a full-time mother. Holly could take them to as many games, cook plenty delicious meals, but I was Mama. Noah especially missed that. We’d spoiled him; I especially spoiled him.

 

“So?” Yuri prodded.

 

I looked at the open suitcase on Noah’s floor. “I thought we agreed to some advance notice about these things.”

 

“Three days is notice, my dear.” He said without

 

humor.

 

“I can’t, Yuri,” I said softy. My small voice reminded me of being afraid to ask Mama and Daddy to go someplace that I knew I was forbidden to go.

 

He waited a beat before asking, “What do you mean?” “I mean that I’ve made other plans. Significant plans

 

that can’t be changed now.” I didn’t add ‘with my husband.’ Some things still had to belong to us, to John and our family.

 

I had finally agreed to go away with my husband. Despite being busier than usual, he’d cleared his schedule and made plans for us that he hadn’t even shared with me. It was going to be a surprise. The children were all handled. Noah was flying to Texas for five days with Edie to her family reunion.

 

 

Ciara and Noodle had conspired to spend the week together at Bo and Hope’s. Nicky was heading to Rachel’s for a couple days and then he would stay with Theo at Abe and Lexie’s for the rest of the week.

 

“Are these plans for promoting your book?” A hint of disappointment rested around his question.

 

“No,” I said, addled that he’d even asked. Disappointment or not. My life was mine. “I had a life before I ever wrote the book, Yuri.”

 

“Yes, but your life has been this book for the last two years. You and I have lived and breathed this book. We’ve also made a lot of money together. You’ve gained a certain amount of celebrity. You’re at the threshold, Marlena. We can’t slow down now.”

 

“I’m not suggesting that we slow down,” I said honestly. “This isn’t about slowing down. I realize that I have obligations to the book, to you, to Ingrid but Yuri, I also have a family. My children don’t remember what it’s like to be tucked into bed at night by me. I have obligations to my family. I told them that we would have a couple of weeks before I went away again.”

 

And I wanted a week alone with my husband to make uninterrupted love. To have him fix me breakfast in bed, and

 

 

then make love again. We needed this time together. Yuri didn’t deserve that kind of explanation. What I said about the children was true, but this week was about my husband and I reconnecting.

 

“I’m not breaking a promise.”

 

“That’s one hell of an argument, doctor.”

 

“It’s true. I miss just being with my family,” I admitted in a moment of rare distilled honestly. Our relationship was strictly professional, but we had spent plenty of time together. He should know me well enough to know any of this without having to explain it, but he didn’t. Yuri and I had spent a lot of time together on the road but we never talked about things as personal as family. I might mention that I missed my children; he might smile appropriately but we didn’t go deep into the fact that I was missing significant things with my husband and our children. Yuri would never understand; he didn’t have a family. His love was money. He didn’t mind admitting so.

 

“What if you brought the children with you?” he asked, clicking his teeth. “You have a great nanny. She can keep an eye on them while you work.”

 

“We’re letting her go,” I told him simply.

 

We hadn’t yet but my heart and mind had finally come around to severing our dependence on Holly. We would handle it

 

 

after we returned from our getaway.

 

“And they don’t want to be stuck in hotel rooms while I run around the city anyway. It’s the summer. They need to be outside. They need to see more than five minutes of me.”

 

He wasn’t finished trying to persuade. “This is your

 

time–”

 

I had to stop him. “–Then it’ll be my time when we’re

 

back.”

 

“What’s going on with you?” he asked. The sound of ice clinking in a glass filled his background.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You sound weird.”

 

“I sound weird? Yuri, are you diagnosing me now?” I laughed quietly.

 

“Marlena, you’ve worked your ass off for two years. I’m hearing, I don’t know, some defeat in your voice. Are you becoming wary?”

 

“Yuri, I need to spend this week reconnecting to my family. That’s it. We can discuss my schedule after that.”

 

He tried another approach. “Ingrid will be displeased.”

 

“She’ll understand,” I paused, and then added, “As a wife and mother, Ingrid will more than understand.”

 

 

He took a sip of whatever he was drinking. I heard him swallow and say, “Maybe.”

 

I smiled. “She will.”

 

“Well, if there is no way to change your mind I guess I should say enjoy yourself.”

 

“I plan to.”

 

“Call you in a week, doctor.”

 

“Absolutely,” I said, feeling victorious. I would

 

always choose my family over anything. Maybe I’d led Yuri to

 

believe otherwise but that was going to change. “Oh, and

 

Yuri…thank you. Talk to you soon.” I clicked off the call and

 

slid my phone back into my pocket.

 

Noah’s suitcase needed packed. My babies were my priority, at least until their daddy whisked me away to destination unknown. I was going to miss each of them terribly. But, I promised John my undivided attention while we were away. That meant one phone call per day to each of them. Nicky and Noodle would be fine with that. I told John good luck explaining that to our baby boy.

 

I chose the clothes that Noah liked best, refolded them and placed them into his suitcase. Edie liked to spoil him as much as I did. He would come home with new clothes and gifts anyway. For this reason, I left some space in his suitcase.

 

 

I grabbed a couple of DVDs from his shelf for the plane ride. His portable player was in the backpack that he would carry on the plane. He had been flying since he was a little guy. He was a seasoned vet, but he always became bored easily. On his father’s plane he could go and come as he pleased. When we flew on our plane, either Noah would climb into my lap and fall asleep until we landed or he would force Nicky to play one of the many games we kept on the plane for the children. A commercial plane ride could be hellish for Edie with a bored Noah. She could more than handle it but I wanted to arm her with plenty options.

 

I looked around his room for his tablet to play games on. I also found two of his favorite shark books and added them to his backpack. That would be enough for the three-hour flight to and from Texas. He was excited to be going but I knew he’d become anxious by week’s end to see me, especially with John’s limited calls demand. If he didn’t, Noah would call every hour if he could. He would simply need reassurance.

 

A letter.

 

I sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. I wrote a couple of lines in blue ink telling him that I would be missing him as much as he missed me. I told him to have a wonderful time with his godmother while he was away. I would

 

 

be here when he came home on Friday. I folded it into a rectangle and put it into the front pocket. I would tell Edie it was there when she picked him up. On Noah’s desk was the picture of me holding him at his first birthday. He had cake smeared all over his face by John and Noodle. He was staring right into the camera with his two front teeth showing. He was my baby. My last baby. I felt a tug in my uterus.

 

“No more babies,” I whispered. But if I could, John would want ten more. He never stopped reminding me that he wanted to live out his barefoot and pregnant dreams with me. We’d never done that. Not without drama.

 

I rubbed my stomach. Never again. We had enough

 

children.

 

I left Noah’s room to check on Nicky. He was zipping his duffle bag as I walked in. “All finished?”

 

“Yep…yes” he edited seeing disapproval at his word choice. “Is it okay if I take some of my video games to Theo’s?”

 

“As long as they’re not shooting games.”

 

He lifted his lean shoulders and peered through the dark hair falling in his eyes. “You don’t buy me shooting games, Mom.”

 

“That’s right,” I touched my temple in exaggeration, “we don’t do that, do we? Then I guess you can take whichever

 

 

games you want to Uncle Abe’s.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.”

 

“No problem, sweetie pie. So, what are you going to do at your sister’s?”

 

“We’re going to a baseball game,” he told me as though it were the only answer to my question.

 

I sat on his bed watching him thumb through the collection of video games on his shelf. “That’ll be fun.”

 

“Yep. Rachel likes playing my video games, too. We’re going to have a tournament in Madden.”

 

“What’s Madden?”

 

He looked at me with disappointment. “Football, Mom. John Madden.”

 

I shrugged at him. “Sorry, Bubsie, the only Madden that I know is the one whose shoes I wear.”

 

Nicky shook his head and went back to his videos. “Anyway, I can’t wait.”

 

“See, that’ll be better than going away with Daddy and

 

me.

 

He grinned a winning John-like smile. “For the record, I didn’t want to go away with you two, Noah and Noodle did. I’m happy not being around when you two are all over each other.” He swept his hair from his eyes.

 

 

I barked out laughter. “All over each other?”

 

“You know what I mean, Mom. Dad is so gross the way he tries to pretend that he’s not watching you or trying to hug you. And you’re even worse.”

 

“I’m worse than Daddy? I always thought that he was worst than me.”

 

He made a grim face. “You kiss in public.”

 

“Eww,” I mocked gently.

 

“It is gross. Parents aren’t supposed to do that.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“You know,” he said, grimacing over the images funneling through his mind. “It. Aren’t you too old for that?”

 

I eased over to him. He was gaining height at an alarming rate. I bent forward hoping to steal a hug. He obliged by backing into the circle of my arms. “My dear boy, how do you think you and your brothers and sisters were made?” I asked, planting a kiss against his dark hair.

 

“Mom,” he squirmed away. “That’s enough. You’re so

 

gross.”

 

“We are so gross.” I added more kisses against the crown of his head until he relaxed against me. “Icky loving gross parents.” I smelled his hair and squeezed him. He smelled like sweat and grass. “Make sure you have everything,” I said,

 

 

loosening my hold on him.

 

He slid a handful of video games into a side pocket in his bag. “Okay. Mom?” He lifted his eyes to mine. “I’m kinda glad you and Dad are going away, though.”

 

I folded my arms across my chest. “Really?”

 

“The two of you seemed mad at each other ever since you came home from New Orleans,” he said glancing away.

 

“We aren’t Nicky,” I said without thought.

 

A mistrustful look crossed round face. “It seemed like it,” he told me with a voice filled with maturity and uncertainty.

 

“Trust me, Daddy and I are fine. Don’t worry about us. We want you to enjoy your week. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” His voice was drained of worry. “I’m kinda hungry, Mama.”

 

Mama. I resisted letting him know how much I loved to be called Mama by him and his siblings. My heart skipped a beat. It was the sweetest thing I’d heard from Nicky since I’d been home. Tears thickened in my throat. “Daddy’s ordering pizza,” I managed around invisible tears. “I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

 

A piercing sound crackled on Nicky’s desk. “Thank you.” He strode toward the repetitious melody.

 

 

“You bet, honey.” He was already distracted. His fingers skittered across the phone screen emitting a glow that encased his face.

 

Nicky didn’t notice that I was still standing there, watching. His iPhone held all of his attention. The shy and protective little guy who had spent so much time under me as a toddler had grown into a pair of spindly legs and arms. With a social life, apparently. The faint smile parting his thin lips spoke volumes. He was texting a girl. Probably his first real crush. It all went by too fast. Growing up. Becoming one’s self in one’s own skin.

 

I still remembered, and could feel the way his little body felt pressed against mine in sleep. The smell of his breath, milky and warm when he left kisses on my cheek. That little boy smile. I had blinked and that little boy was running towards manhood. I was missing so much. I’d missed the way that Nicky had allowed his hair to grow into a messy mop of hair spray and bangs that hid his beautiful eyes. Noodle had explained that boys her brother’s age were copying a singer named Bieber. When he was a boy he only wanted to mimic his daddy’s hair. When I complained to John about Nicky’s hair he didn’t hesitate to remind me that our babies weren’t babies anymore. They were their own people.

 

 

“Nicky?” He lifted his eyes from the phone. “Make sure you thank Uncle Abe and Aunt Lexi for allowing you to stay. Your sister is coming after supper to pick you up. Don’t forget to thank her as well.”

 

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I will, Mom. I always do.” They fell back to his phone.

 

“Good boy.”

 

“Later,” he said. A polite dismissal.

 

Taking his cue for privacy, I nodded and closed the door. A trail of sunflower seeds lay in a ruthless path along the hallway carpet. Noah. Baseball had given him this new messy habit. He liked to lick the salty shells until the they cracked open before spitting them out of his mouth. He still hadn’t returned with his floaties. I opened my mouth to yell his name when the photos of the children at various stages caught my attention.

 

I’d lined the hallway walls with the black and white photos encased in black frames. My favorite was of the three of them lying in bed with me. Noah couldn’t have been more than one; Noodle and Nicky were three and four. John’s lens had captured us asleep. Noah was lying on my chest. Noodle was curled against one side and Nicky against the other. It was the only way they would sleep for a while. There was no room for

 

 

daddy. I’d wake up to John sleeping in the rocking chair that I kept in our bedroom for Noah. Another photo I loved was of my girls. All of my girls. Rachel, Carrie, Sami, Belle, Juliana, and Claire. Rachel and Belle had arranged to surprise me with it for mother’s day. They all wore jeans cupped just above their ankles and white t-shirts with a huge red hearts on the front in their bare feet. The older girls stood huddled together with their arms hooked together. Claire and Juliana were on their bellies with their feet hiked up behind them; their heads rested across their upturned palms. Beautiful smiles on each of their faces. It still brought tears to my eyes to see it.

 

There was a picture I’d snapped of John and Noodle. She sat in front of him with a patient look while he attempted to braid her hair before a recital. She’d been so adamant about having Daddy do it that I handed over the brush and ribbon and dashed to get my camera. I couldn’t remember what her hair looked like after but the picture of John’s marked concentration and crooked fingers tangling Noodle’s hair was priceless.

 

I stopped at Noodle’s closed door. Her name was spelled out in pink letters across the top. She and John had made a project of going to the store and going out into the back yard to John’s shed. When he wasn’t doing Basic Black things, he liked to tinker around out there. Men things, he said. He and

 

 

Noodle took those letters out there and painted them in the faint pink color that she’d chosen. He let her help hang them by standing at her side with a stepladder and a lift every now and again. That seemed like ages ago.

 

Tapping lightly, I let myself in after a minute of silence. She wasn’t there but her suitcase was exactly as I thought I would find it–neatly packed and zipped up on her white canopy bed. Her room was spotless. That was me in her. The need to keep our spaces tidy. The boys were clutter bugs like John. They thought their clothes walked to the hamper. Noodle didn’t even like her hamper to be visible. She kept it tucked in a corner of her closet. Her shoes were in neat rows along the closet wall. Each shelf had perfectly folded clothes. The clothes on hangers were color coordinated. John thought her neatness was hilarious because he understood it was a trait she’d picked up from my gene pool. Mama was the same way. Rachel, too. Belle and Sami were less me, more John.

 

John could only see the parts of Noodle that I contributed, but she was a perfect mixture of her mother and father with full possession of his stern concentration and a little mischievousness. She was bold, braver than I remembered any of my other girls being. That was John in her. The ability to lock eyes with me or any other person to demand integrity.

 

 

Truth. That was John in her asking about Alex and Roman, about my divorces and my illness. She was her father’s daughter. In a way, she would always belong to him.

 

Those familiar eyes and curly dark hair held her daddy’s heart in a tight grip. John’s love for his girls was enormous, but his baby girl–his Jules–and he shared an extraordinary bond. He catered to her in ways that I hadn’t allowed with Belle. The iPad and Macbook beside her suitcase were two extravagances I would have never have given to a young child. My young child. I wouldn’t have given Nicky an iPhone either.

 

As much as it was possible I wanted the children to maintain a certain innocence; the kind of childhood I’d had. One of Midwestern values: kindness, dedication to hard work, and simplicity. Living in a storied home, as much of a mansion as I’d ever lived in, a gated community, an endless backyard, an Olympic-sized pool and accompanying spa; and being chauffeured to school in luxury cars, having a nanny, traveling in private jets–had all informed my youngest children’s childhoods. John provided very well for his family. He always had. He was unlike any man I’ve ever been in love with in that way. It was a blessing and a curse. During one of Sami’s unpleasant phases she’d blasted me for leaving her father for John because of his

 

 

wealth. That had been one of the first times that she’d voiced her resentment about the difference of lifestyle between her childhood and Belle’s.

 

The twins life had been completely different from Belle’s and Brady’s. Roman Brady was the kind of father my father had been. They weren’t able to provide the luxuries of wealth but they gave a wealth of love. Roman was exactly like his own father. Salt of the Earth. Gritty. He wanted the twins to work hard for the things they wanted. And not that there was anything wrong with it but Roman avoided luxury at all costs. He strived for simplicity. He still drove a pickup truck, lived in a neighborhood filled with working-class people, and had beers in front of the television on the weekends. The twins benefitted from having his influence. Even when Sami and Eric lived with John as children, they were accustomed to that kind of living. John’s wealth came after Belle’s birth. She had almost lived a narrower life as Roman Brady’s daughter, but then truth came out about her paternity and she became John’s little princess instantly. Our lives were never the same. When he found out that Belle was his child, we weren’t anywhere near being in a solid relationship but he took responsibility quite seriously.

 

He moved us from the room at Alice’s into a luxury penthouse overlooking Salem. A beautifully decorated and

 

 

furnished space that he said I deserved. It was an overwhelmingly beautiful home that took quite an adjustment period of getting used to. Belle transitioned easily from the little girl of a cop to one whose wealth and generosity entrapped her surroundings, her every want and need. She hadn’t known anything else by the time her memories were formed. She would never remember being Roman’s child in Roman’s house with her siblings. She grew up in the penthouse with me where I was able to curtail some of John’s extravagances. Since he didn’t live with us when she was small, he didn’t have the ability to lavish everything that he wanted on Belle. Oh, he certainly tried his best. I understood his need to love her in the huge way that he did. He was guilty–we both were–for the precious time he spent not knowing that she was his baby girl. Those months were spaces of time that would never be given back to them. He never wanted her to feel as if she weren’t loved because of the way she’d come into our lives. He wanted her to know and feel that she was always wanted even if we hadn’t planned for her. He would come to the penthouse and spend hours just holding her, talking to her. Staring at her. From the moment that he held her at Alice’s, he was hooked. Their rocky beginning made it hard for him to ever discipline Belle. All she had to do was smile and wrap her little arms around him and he

 

 

was putty.

 

It was exactly the same for Noodle. It was unintentionally but eerily similar to his relationship with Belle. Us being separated when Juliana was born and for almost the first two years of her life, affected the way he doted on her. His guilt was fortified. He wanted to make up for the time he’d lost the same way he had with Belle. I’d given up trying to police his parenting, especially in these last two years. It wasn’t possible to be bad cop from thousands of miles away. John wouldn’t listen anyway; if he did, Juliana usually found a way around a no. She’d asked me if she could have an iPad before going to John because she’d seen me working on mine. My answer was in a couple years she could earn one but as soon as I went away again she went straight to her daddy. He bought it the same day. I only found out when I received a FaceTime call from her new iPad.

 

She was a daddy’s girl. They had grown even closer since I’d written the book. She had turned away from me towards him. Not that it was a competition. I understood my role as her mother as well as John understood his. She was on the verge of becoming her own person. It was natural for her to run away from me. It was comforting that John was there to cushion the harsh transitioning from little girl to adolescent. She talked to him

 

 

about everything. Anything. She wouldn’t do that with me. I understood. I also hated it.

 

“Doc?” John’s voice tunneled down the hallway outside Noodle’s door.

 

“I’m in Noodle’s room,” I told him, unzipping her

 

suitcase.

 

“Jules wants me to run her…” he paused after stepping inside of her bedroom.

 

He’d been working out in the basement. Sweat stained the places where his shirt met with skin. He was wearing one of his many Salem PD white tees. The one I liked to sleep in when it was warm enough. Or after making love and not having the energy to redress myself, John would gently pull the shirt over my head and down my sated naked body.

 

“You look so beautiful,” he said quietly. As though it was a thought he hadn’t meant to let free.

 

I was bent over Noodle’s suitcase checking which clothes she’d packed. “Beautiful?” I touched the ponytail holding my hair back from my face. “I’m a mess.”

 

John’s shirt was swallowing my frame. I’d found it hanging on the bathroom door after Noah had interrupted my shower this afternoon. He and I had had a lazy morning in bed watching Sprout, his favorite channel. When he fell asleep in my

 

 

arms, I’d snuck off to finish showering. Like clockwork, as soon as I lathered and rinsed off, Noah was at the door. I hadn’t even had time to dry off. I just grabbed the blue shirt and threw it on. It still held the smell of John.

 

He ignored my excuse. “You’re beautiful.”

 

I continued looking through Noodle’s clothes. “Where does she want you to take her?”

 

I felt his energy shift my way. The hairs on my neck rose. “She?” he asked, taking slow steps toward Noodle’s bed.

 

“Noodle. You were staying something about she wanted you to take her somewhere.” I pulled out a bathing suit, a bikini I’d never seen before from the bottom of the suitcase where Noodle was hiding it. “Where did she get this?” I asked, turning around just in time for John to be at my side. “Did you buy this?”

 

He looked at the little pieces of pink material dangling in my hand. “Hell no.” He yanked it from my grip.

 

I shook my head, chuckling at the disheartened look on his face. He was imagining our little girl in the inappropriate bathing suit. “She wants to grow up much sooner than our other girls. What are we going to do with her?” I turned back to the suitcase to put the approved clothing back the way Noodle had initially packed it.

 

 

“Lock her up,” he said seriously.

 

“Until?”

 

“She’s forty. And then I’ll think about letting her

 

date.”

 

I felt his breath on my neck before I felt his arms wrap around my waist. “You smell good,” he nuzzled against my neck.

 

“I smell like soap. As you can see I haven’t been able to finish getting dressed.”

 

He began playing with the shirt buttons as he curved into me. “What do you have on under here?” he asked tugging at the shirt.

 

“John,” I laughed tapping his wandering hand.

 

He unbuttoned a single button to slide his hand through the opening, grazing my skin with the warm, damp tips of his fingers. “Nothing?” He was shocked. “Doc, you’re absolutely naked under here…under my shirt?”

 

“As the day I was born,” I answered playfully.

 

He’d started a rhythm between our bodies. A little dance. He was pressed firmly against me swaying our hips. I fell into his dance naturally letting my neck fall freely back over his shoulder. He kissed lightly, like the whisper of butterfly wings, along the long column of skin between my shoulder and

 

 

ear. It erupted in fever. Goosebumps prickled.

 

His fingers dusted lightly over my stomach, traveling up until my breasts were enveloped in his strong hands. He rubbed his damp palms across each nipple tantalizingly slow. As if the threat of the children coming to find us didn’t exist.

 

“John,” I murmured against his stubby face, inhaling the salty smell of his sweat caked cheek. I snaked my arm around his neck to keep his mouth tasting my neck. “Where are your children?”

 

“I don’t care if the Colorado Rockies entire bench walks into this room,” he grunted cupping a breast roughly. “I’m making love to you.”

 

“You’re all sweaty,” I teased, folding my hands over

 

his.

 

He whirled me around without warning. “You care?” His fingers closed over my neck as he pulled my face closer.

 

“Not really…” I wet my lips with deliberation. I not only wanted to make love to him, I needed to. I was a needy, trembling mess standing in front of him. My entire body was aflame and over-sensitized. The little teasing and petting that he’d done already had sent every nerve on its head. I was tingling and throbbing between my thighs. And moist. A slow leak rolled down my thigh. I sat down on the bed and stared up at

 

 

John as I slowly unbuttoned my (his) shirt.

 

Blue eyes watched studiously. His damp hair glistened in the sunlight pouring into the window behind him. It was taking strict self-control not to move, not to touch me. I had to grin at the hunger in those pools of blue. He drew his lips together as I parted the panels of my shirt and leaned back on my elbows. His eyes continued to roam my naked body. They started from the top of my head down my neck and over my spilling breasts, across the rise and fall of my belly. I lifted my feet to the bed and bent my knees as I opened myself to him. It was an invitation. One that was forever his.

 

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to bury myself inside of you?” He groaned.

 

I licked my lips and tilted my head. “Show me, honey.

 

I’m so hungry,” I grinned, raising an eyebrow.

 

He smiled at the word we used around the kids when we were talking about sex. “You’re hungry?”

 

“Starving, baby.” I batted my eyelashes with purpose, parting my legs further. “Come here.”

 

He dove forward and settled his face between my dampened thighs. “I’m hungry, too. I’m starving,” he said French kissing my throbbing center.

 

“I don’t think we have time for this,” I whimpered

 

 

pitifully, attempting to keep my eyes open. He was stroking the outside of my legs, parting them further as he stiffened his tongue and began circling the raw nerve that held my undoing. “One of them will be here…”

 

“We’ll close the door.” His words vibrated where he lapped with his tongue, moving up through my belly.

 

“No, honey…” I threaded my fingers through his damp hair to pull his mouth away, but he was doing such a masterful job of making me forget why it was a bad idea to have sex in our daughter’s bed that I let him continue kissing and stroking. I bit into my lip when it became so good that I couldn’t stop sounds from escaping my mouth.

 

“Wait a minute, baby,” he warned suddenly, stopping. I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind when he left me on the bed.

 

I felt the emptiness immediately. I also heard Nicky in the hall. He was calling for Noodle. It pulled me slowly from the fog of sex. I sat up quickly and pulled my shirt together. John had obviously heard him first. He was already in the hall directing Nicky downstairs to keep Noodle and Noah occupied. I made the mistake of checking my watch. It was almost time for Rachel and Edie to come. John still needed to drop Noodle off at Bo and Hope’s in a couple hours. The children needed to have

 

 

supper. This wasn’t going to happen. I wanted him but we would have to wait.

 

“Come on,” he said coming back into Noodle’s room.

 

I took his hand. “Where are we going?”

 

“To finish this,” he told me. “Nicky’s going to order the pizza. We have at least twenty minutes.” He was half-dragging me across the hall to our bedroom as he talked.

 

“Honey, I want to so badly,” I said, watching him close us inside of our bedroom, “but Rachel and Edie will be here before we know it.”

 

He twisted the lock on our door and then turned back to me. “Come here,” he demanded. My shirt had fallen apart allowing my breasts to wrangle free. I stood there, deciding.

 

He pulled me by his shirt forward, deciding for me. I collided against the muscled wall of his chest.

 

“I thought you were hungry,” he said close to my

 

mouth.

 

I shut my eyes as his mouth crushed into mine. He repeated himself.

 

“I am,” I said, tasting myself in his kiss. “I want

 

you.”

 

It was his turn to tease me. “You want me?” he asked, pulling away.

 

 

“Come here,” I demanded. “Kiss me.”

 

He shook his head slowly. He stepped back to take a long look. “Maybe we should wait until we go away.”

 

I resisted reacting to his teasing. Instead, I shrugged and turned away from him. I slowly peeled off his shirt, letting it fall to the carpet. I heard his breath hitch. I smiled in secret, knowing he was behind me, waiting and watching to see what I would do. I slinked over to our bed and crawled up the middle.

 

“I guess I’ll have to finish this alone,” I purred turning over and lying on my back. I mirrored the same position I’d done a moment ago in our daughter’s room. I started counting in my head the seconds that it took for my hand to travel downward until John couldn’t stand it. If we were on our normal lovemaking routine, he might have watched as I performed for him, even to completion, but we hadn’t made love for so long. He couldn’t help himself.

 

By the count of eight, he was on top of me. There was no time for foreplay. We were both too needy. He had kicked off his pants himself but I had to drag his shirt over his head. My nails raked his skin as it went. I tossed it aside and began kissing the ridges of hard muscle corded under his skin. He cupped my face between his hands and smoothed back loose hair.

 

 

“I love you,” the words spilled from my mouth into his as our mouths bridged.

 

“I love you,” he answered, dragging my lips between his. “I want to make love to you, Doc.”

 

“Aren’t you doing that?”

 

He smiled against my cheek. In an instant his fingers were loosening my hair from the ponytail. I sat up and shook it until it fell in wild curls around my shoulders.

 

“Beautiful,” he said. “I love your hair this way.”

 

“I love being with you,” I ran my hands from his fuzzy hard belly toward his chest. “Lie down for me.” It was a demand. I pulled his arms above his head–the way he did to me all the time–and loosely locked his wrists together.

 

“Are you going to ride me?” he asked with a curious

 

brow.

 

I laughed, “Oh, you want naughty sex?”

 

He swatted my backside. “Very naughty.”

 

“You mean you want to,” I bit my lip and drew closer to his face as I climbed on his body, “fuck me?”

 

He was amused. “Doc…”

 

“What?” I leaned over to bite his earlobe making sure his mouth was near my right nipple. “You don’t like that? I thought you wanted naughty sex. We haven’t had that in a while.”

 

 

He lapped hungrily at my nipple until I pried it away.

 

“No, we haven’t.” He squirmed beneath me.

 

“Do you want to?” I tightened my grip on his wrists. He tried to steal a kiss. I pulled back. “Doc…” “Answer me.”

 

“What?” he asked exasperated.

 

“Do you want to fuck me?”

 

His eyes widened. There was a part of him that wanted this kind of talk in bed. He had taught me how to make love to him without embarrassment years ago. Taught me how to please him and myself without feeling self-conscious about our energetic lovemaking. But there was a part of him that was uncomfortable with me speaking so unlike myself. He didn’t want prim and proper Marlena in his bed, but he also didn’t know how to reconcile raunchy Marlena in that same space.

 

“Yes,” he said moving his hips harshly forward.

 

“Say it,” I whispered, dragging his bottom lip between my teeth. “Tell me.”

 

He freed his hands and brought each down to cup the full spheres of flesh sitting just above his thickening erection. I had lost the control. He’d taken over. He swatted my rear again before pulling me flush to his chest.

 

“I want to hear it,” I told him.

 

 

He brought my face close and kissed long and hard, until I was gasping for breath. “You want to hear how badly I want to fuck you,” he said in a low teasing voice. “I do. I want to fuck you until you can barely walk. I want to fuck you in the car on the way to the airport and then again on our plane. Over and over again, baby. And then when you can barely stand it, when your body is so tender and sensitive from all that fucking, I’m going to give you a bath and then make the sweetest love to you. Because you’re my baby and I love you.”

 

I closed my eyes, whispering, “I love you, too.”

 

He took himself into his hand and rubbed his tip along the place where his children came from. I was more than ready. I’d been ready since before on Noodle’s bed. I wanted to prolong the feeling of him sliding into the place he fit into perfectly. He kissed me as he slid slowly into me. He groaned at the way my body welcomed him. I brought my hands to the small of his back and squeezed my insides to imprison his fullness.

 

“Wait, wait…don’t move,” I begged. “Just stay there. Kiss me, hug me…just don’t move yet. I want to feel full for as long as I can.”

 

He covered my mouth again and thrust his tongue smoothly against mine. I loved his drugging kisses. They were intoxicating. He spoke another language with them. They spoke of

 

 

need and want, of possession. I could live on his kisses alone if I had to. He was able to quench my thirst for him in the sweet wet cave of his mouth. But it wasn’t just his mouth making love. He wasn’t moving but his hands were. They caressed my body seemingly from head to toe. They squeezed and kneaded, massaged. His touch was electrifying. With his hands, his kissing, him being inside of me, I needed more.

 

“I’m hungry,” I whispered. “Now…” my hips rushed against his.

 

He flipped me onto my back and threw my hands above my head. I widened my legs and brought them to rest on the sharp angle of his hips. He nudged slowly past the tightness, burying himself until a smile caressed his lips. Making love during the day had its benefits. Seeing my lover’s face as he filled me completely. His mouth tightened as he pushed and slackened when he pulled back. He didn’t close his eyes, denying me the pleasure of sharing another connection. His heated stare held mine until he stroked a place that ripped through my belly. I turned away to bury my face in the blanket. To stifle crying out. I dug my nails deep into his back–to hold on. He was thrusting with purpose, hard and fast.

 

“Baby, I’m already there…” I moaned into his

 

shoulder.

 

 

“I know,” he whispered, filling me again. “I love you so much. I need you.”

 

Unable to find my own voice anymore, I whispered, “You

 

have me.”

 

“Don’t let me go…” a simple sad utterance that brought tears to my eyes.

 

I held on tighter.

 

The sun was shining over our bed through the ceiling lighting heating his back and my face. He was gnawing at my neck, leaving marks that I would have to cover with makeup. Our bodies melded together, damp skin to damp skin. He pushed further and further, deep long strokes that forced me to cry out. He forced himself into my depths, holding on for dear life as he did. All of him.

 

He made love like we were making babies. Sweet love that started the quivering within my belly. It felt like he was all over me. Touching every part inside of me. He gripped my neck and tilted my face up. To stare at him while he dove over and over into my drenched center. Noises rose from the bed. My quick breathes. His grunting. The bed creaking. A sticky song where we were joined. His fingers bit into my skin as he began riding into his orgasm. Mine had come and gone, another was just behind it. I squeezed him and gave into the sensation filling my

 

 

body. I cried out into his shoulder, biting into his damp skin to bury the yelp of his name. Everything went black behind my eyelids. I could hear him singing my name into my hair as he emptied himself inside. I could feel him. Swollen and leaking. And then I felt him collapse on top of me.

 

“That was just for starters,” he said with a kiss.

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

Intoxicating Thoughts

 

(Monday 🙂

 

The memory of his mouth intoxicated my thoughts. I could still feel the imprint of his teeth denting my lips, shaped by the strength of his.

 

Sitting at my dressing table with dewy skin from the shower, I was preparing for our trip. This was the second shower I’d taken since waking and this one I’d taken alone. John had answered his father duty when Noodle phoned. It was only our daughter who could tear him away to bring a forgotten phone charger to Bo and Hope’s.

 

We had been in the middle of making quiet love in our bed. The kind that isn’t rushed. When our bodies are so

 

 

entangled that distinguishing one from the other could prove impossible. Where he laced his fingers through my hair to tug until my scalp protested. Where, when we finally stopped moving against each other to stare into each other’s eyes, we needed to whisper how much we loved each other. This need was born out of being together over the last twenty-four hours. It was a reminder. I needed him. And I told him so.

 

Those words were spoken against his neck tumbling onto our sides, bringing us closer, bringing him deeper inside. His mouth and hips worked in tandem. A collision between our bodies. I coerced his body to shatter within mine and then stroked the damp small of his back until his voice returned. My name fell from his lips when we untangled; he apologized for having to leave.

 

I had laid in bed while he showered. At the top of his lungs, he sang Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World.” We had watched The Big Chill after the babies had gone. I’d popped popcorn, sprinkled on some parmesan, and asked him to join me on the couch. We cuddled and necked like high schoolers in our parent’s basement. Touching each other as if our bodies were still mysteries. I joked with a hint of seriousness that had I known him in high school, I might have forgotten myself and been one of those girls who found herself in trouble. The kind of

 

 

trouble that led to early marriages between confused teenagers. He found humor in that, but then in a grave tone said, “I would have taken care of you and any one that we might have created.”

 

When he’d finally emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in dark cargo pants and a fitted shirt emblazoned with the words World’s Best Dad across his chest. He walked over to the bed with a smile as wide as the world. He was enjoying our time alone. He leaned over and pulled me from the sea of sheets to my feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he’d said, sending me to shower with a kiss along my shoulder. I’d stayed beneath the water long enough to release the tension from my muscles. I had spent too much time wrapped around him. My body was beginning to ache in all the right places.

 

I knotted my hair loosely on top of my head. Small, telling marks dotted the unhidden portions of my neck. I propped my elbows on the vanity to examine my skin. A smile, small and knowing, parted my lips. John was right. He’d loved color, life back into my face. He was certainly good at that when I allowed him. I shrugged my robe off of my shoulders. The satin soft pink material hid another collection of the nearly artistic motions of John’s mouth. I touched them gently. They would shift into a marriage of yellow and purple by tomorrow. Bruises always rose fairly easily to my skin. I had learned this when hiding bruises

 

 

due to the man in my life was as natural as breathing to my daily existence.

 

I wasn’t being careful.

 

Seeing the bruises seemed to wake the sleeping demon. His voice surfaced from that deep dark place of unforgiving memories. Married women should be covered up anyway. Ever since you had the baby you’ve been unattractive anyway. I don’t know a man alive who wants to see your sagging breasts. I don’t. I’m doing you a favor. Wear sleeves. Leave your hair down. There were apparently untapped reserves of these moments. His voice penetrated my ears, sending chills chasing the length of my arms and spine.

 

“It’s over, Marlena. He’s gone,” I whispered into the silence. To the memory.

 

Alex was gone, but the memories unfortunately were not. I’d unearthed them for my daughter. The gift of remembering also meant the curse of remembering. In the mirror, just over my shoulder I saw myself there, in this memory, sitting at a similar vanity.

 

A bruise mirroring the shape of Canada riddled my collarbone. I patted heavy foundation into my skin, flinching each time the soft moist pad met the awkward bruise. This was my

 

 

reminder never to interrupt Alex in public. He’d been explaining to the head of his department at the hospital why I wasn’t ready to return to work after the baby. I had brought him lunch as it was my routine–and Alex’s way to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. His boss happened to be standing in his office when I arrived with a roast beef sandwich and chips, and Rachel in her stroller.

 

Every morning before work Alex left a list written in his tight handwriting for me to complete before he came home. He was punctual enough to arrive home exactly eleven minutes after leaving the hospital. But a part of my day included bringing him lunch. I always knew what he wanted to eat for lunch and dinner because of the list. His colleagues assumed that I was being a dutiful; I was actually the terrified wife who was avoiding showing Alex any kind of disrespect.

 

His boss, Dr. Cord, was a very polite man. Talkative and very interested in his colleagues. We’d gone to supper at his home more than twice. I felt comfortable speaking to him with Alex at my hip, holding my elbow tightly. My mistake. When he asked when I was going to return to work honesty spoke. I said soon. Alex’s fingers cut into my skin until they broke the surface. His body pulled into a rigid line. I hadn’t gone back to work yet because Alex didn’t want me to. Apparently it wasn’t

 

 

my choice anymore. He cleared his throat–my signal to stop talking. His thin lips curved into a smile as he said that I was overwhelmed with motherhood and probably wouldn’t be returning to work.

 

Rachel was only a couple of months at the time. I was overwhelmed, but not by my daughter. Although, I was a new mother–a first-time mother–I felt sure I could handle it all. Had I been braver then, I might have admitted to that kind-faced man that it wasn’t motherhood, that I was overwhelmed by my husband’s violence and the psychological battle being waged. He sent me home with a cold kiss. A promise of retaliation.

 

I waited for my punishment like only a forgiving child could. Waited to hear his keys in the door. I’d put Rachel in her crib and turned on music and then pulled her door close. I had protected her from him so far. I would keep doing so. It was easier to be hit in our bedroom, I’d learned. I went there and sat on the edge of our bed. When he entered the room, I stood and swallowed a breath. It happened without words. He shoved me into our bedroom wall and then climbed on top of me in the middle of the floor. I was protecting my face with my arms when he tore them apart and pummeled at me with clenched fists. He’d left me there, on the floor, after his rage was satisfied.

 

I crawled as slow as possible to the bathroom, crying

 

 

softly. I couldn’t risk Alex or the baby hearing me. He had gone in to see Rachel. I cleaned up my face as best as I could. I showered. Alex would become enraged if he saw that there was any blood left behind. Bruises were allowed. In fact, they were a part of the lesson, but blood, red and alive, were not. Amazingly, the only sign of his latest campaign in his personal war against my self-esteem and body were a perfect split dividing my bottom lip. I’d done a masterful job of protecting my eyes from impact. My cheeks, too. Sitting at my vanity, I examined the entire naked space of my body. It was the only way to make sure I didn’t miss any bruise. How would I explain them? It was when I learned about covering up bruises until there wasn’t any sign that my husband had brutalized me, yet again. He broke my heart and body over and over again.

 

“Thank you God,” I said, shaking the memory clear like Noah did with his Etch-a-Sketch.

 

“For me?” John’s smiling reflection met mine in the

 

mirror.

 

“Of course. I thank God for you everyday.” He looked refreshed with his sun-kissed arms and face. And Loving, very peaceful. Relaxed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

 

He heard the unsteadiness in my voice. “Are you okay?” “Yes, honey,” I projected strength into my tone as I

 

eyed him stride confidently toward me. “I’m just trying to cover up all these little love bites that some ravenous depraved man left all over me.”

 

“Who?” He lowered his powerful chin and fixed his mouth into an unconvincing smile. “Point him out…I’ll make sure that he knows that you have a husband who does not approve.”

 

I leaned back to rest against the hardness of his stomach. “I think you know him very well,” I told him, rubbing the arms he’d circled around my shoulders.

 

“I’d better.” He tilted my neck with examiner’s eyes. “You know I never know that I’m doing this to you until I see them.” He found a mark and pressed his mouth to it. “I’m sorry.”

 

His aftershave perfumed the air around us. “Mmm, you smell nice,” I sniffed his freshly shaved skin.

 

“So do you.” He took a generous whiff between my neck and ear. It was his favorite scent. “You never change. I love that about you.”

 

“Feeling’s mutual.” His eyes sought the bruises. “John, they’re hickies. I’m fine. I’ll just wear lots of clothing on vacation,” I tried teasing.

 

 

“Lots of clothing?” He furrowed his brows. A habit Nicky had inherited. “You won’t need them.”

 

“Won’t I?” He shook his head and crossed our arms together over the swell of my chest. “Where are you taking me anyway?”

 

“It’s still a surprise.”

 

“Just a hint?” Another toss of his head. “A tiny hint? Maybe just tell me the weather, so I can pack appropriately.”

 

“Oh, Doc.” He skimmed his lips along my jaw. They stopped to place a feathery kiss just on the corner of my mouth. “Trust me, you won’t need clothes.”

 

“We’ll see about that, darling.”

 

“Get dressed woman.” He instructed, standing to his full height. “We’re leaving here soon.”

 

“Don’t call me woman.” I swatted his behind as he walked away.

 

One night alone. It had taken just that for us to touch hearts and minds again, to reconnect. The sex was dynamic. It was also nonstop. Dr. Shalit wouldn’t be impressed.Sex wasn’t always the solution, but it could answer the problem for a moment. And for the moment, John and I had spent last night in each other’s arms making love in the dark after the movie. So rarely did we have the house to ourselves that we could make

 

 

love with our bedroom door wide open. Even rarer to fall asleep with arms and legs wrapped around each other completely naked. We’d done both. I could cry out without worrying that the children would hear us. And I did, several times.

 

Our children had left behind two horny parents, and the necessary quiet to make love without interruption. Like newlyweds. I believed he was trying to fulfill the oath he’d said to me during our quickie. To make love until I couldn’t walk or stand anymore. I was nearly at that threshold and we’d only been alone together for twelve hours. Joints ached and protested when I moved. I was doing so slowly. This morning, before he left for his sunrise jog, he’d woken me up with his tongue. An orgasm before breakfast. Another in the shower. There he’d lifted me easily to his hips and pinned my back against the shower wall to penetrate the place that he called his. I wasn’t sure I would make it through the week.

 

“At least tell me the time zone,” I stood, letting my robe puddle on the floor. I hadn’t moved three steps before he swooped up behind me and tossed me right into the center of our unmade bed. “Honey…no no no no…” I pleaded.

 

“Just a kiss,” he stole one. And then another.

 

That familiar ache rose between my legs. I tore my

 

 

mouth away. “You said one,” I reminded him as he came closer for another.

 

“You don’t drop your robe and expect me to look away to finish packing, Doc. I can’t resist you. You know that.”

 

“You have to,” I whispered.

 

He hovered on his elbows above me. “I do?”

 

“I can’t make love to you.”

 

“Why not?” he asked sharply.

 

I buried my face in his chest. “I’m sore.” My laugh echoed against his skin.

 

“Oh Sweetheart…” he grew tender, leaning up to sit. Pulling me into his lap, he held me close to his chest. I lay there listening to his heart. I found his hand and clasped ours together. This was all I needed for now.

 

“Isn’t this nice, too?” I asked.

 

“Being with you is always nice.”

 

I kissed his knuckles. Because they were soft. And they didn’t leave bruises. “I promise we’ll make love every hour while we’re away.”

 

“You don’t have to promise that, Doc. I’m not taking you away to make you my sex slave.”

 

“You’re not?” I teased.

 

“Well, maybe a little.”

 

 

“I knew it.”

 

“You know your man well.”

 

“That I do.”

 

“But seriously, I just want to be with you. We can sit and stare at each other for the next five days. I just want to be in your presence. I want to talk to you and listen. I want to fall asleep in the same bed, and wake up the same way. Don’t get me wrong, I want to make love to you, too. I always do, but this isn’t about that. I just need to be with you again. I need to look into this face and remind myself how lucky we both are.”

 

He was swimming before my eyes. I didn’t know it even happened. The tears were just there. “Oh honey…you’re so sweet.” He dragged his thumb beneath my eyes, drying the tears. I took his hand and kissed his fingertips. “I have to finished getting dressed.”

 

“I know.” He framed my face between his palms. “This trip is for us. I love you. Now go, get dressed,” he said with a kiss.

 

“Sure thing, Sailor.”

 

I shuffled off to my closet to grab the outfits that I’d chosen for the trip. With John, romance was always key on these mysterious getaways. And I wanted to look wonderful for him. I wanted him to look at me in the way he that was watching

 

 

while I went back and forth to my closet completely naked. Studiously. He rubbed at his chest while chewing the inside of his lip. The clothing I chose was purposeful. He could say this wasn’t about making love until we couldn’t stand it anymore but I knew my husband. I wanted clothes that reminded him not only of his luck, but of his proprietary nature. Clothes that brought attention from others. Then he would have to show me how lucky I was. That I was his. We’d been playing this game for a long time. I knew the kind of clothing that he liked to see framing my body. Anything that allowed my back and shoulders to be on display. Rear hugging jeans. Shirts that revealed just enough cleavage. Flirty dresses. I’d have to go through a medicine cabinet full of foundation to wear them, thanks to his hickies, but that was also a part of our game.

 

“You’ll need swimwear,” he announced.

 

“Times like these are when I’ll miss Holly the most.” I placed the outfits in the garment bag hanging on the closet door.

 

“Baby, you’re more than capable to pack a bag.” His words were razor sharp.

 

“Why does the mention of Holly’s name rattle you so?” “It doesn’t.” His eyes followed as I went to my

 

lingerie drawer. “At all,” he clarified.

 

 

“Are you sure about letting her go?”

 

“If that’s what you want,” he offered patriotically.

 

If that’s what I wanted? I thought we had both agreed.

 

“I thought we both wanted this.”

 

“We do. The situation is making you uncomfortable.” The word situation fell like dead weight between us. I

 

stopped folding the champagne-hued nightie in my hands. I searched his face, his eyes–what was I looking for? What we had found in twelve hours shouldn’t be dissipated by the mention of our nanny’s name. “What do you mean when you say situation?” I couldn’t help asking. I wanted to let it die, but it nagged at the edges of my emotions.

 

“Marlena.”

 

The use of my name, not an endearment, categorized the situation for me. We could continue asking questions tucked into broader questions, crystallizing the odd rush of emotions I felt when I gave thought to John and Holly. I could force him to look into my eyes–he wasn’t; his eyes were cast off in the direction of the window. Cajole some truths from him. Or I could continue choosing sexy undergarments for him to rip off on our trip and let every doubt go.

 

I chose the latter. I tapped at the corner of my mouth. “Swimwear. Let’s see if I remember where your favorite

 

 

bikini is.” It was a black suit with gold metal embellishments. I only wore it in his presence. The last time had been last summer in our own jacuzzi one evening after the kids were asleep.

 

“That’s it.” His eyes rose to the bikini dangling in my hand. “Are you bringing that red dress?”

 

“Red dress?”

 

“You know,” he hopped up off of the bed. “You wore it to Basic Black’s annual.”

 

“Honey, I have a lot of red dresses.”

 

“I hiked it over your hips when you begged me to make love to you in the elevator.”

 

I grew warm just remembering. “I begged you?”

 

“You were so hot for me you couldn’t wait long enough to get to my office.”

 

He wasn’t untruthful. We’d been flirting all night across the room. He was in John Black businessman mode. Mogul. He kept sending me drinks–banana bangers–through his personal assistant. A young man named Titus. And texts. Racy texts that made my cheeks flash crimson. When we were seated for dinner, he snuck a hand under the table trying to make its way under my dress. The hem wasn’t long enough to cover my thighs while sitting. It didn’t take much effort for him to gain passage pass

 

 

my thighs to move my panties aside. It wasn’t the first time John had done something like that to me in a crowded room. I was prepared for him to stroke me quietly into an orgasm. He was stroking slowly, holding a conversation at the other end of the table. I kept my hands on the table for fear that I might bring attention to what he was doing. I opened my legs wider and wider, allowing him access to my soaked center. He brought me right to the edge and stopped short of me squeezing my legs together to keep from falling out of my seat in pleasure. I was so flustered, I swallowed a whole glass of water to calm my body back down.

 

“I was, wasn’t I?”

 

“You don’t remember?” he asked, grinning.

 

“Darling, I remember everything you’ve ever done to

 

me.”

 

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

Truth Bell RInging

 

(Tuesday : am)

 

Words that are able to destroy whole countries are words that should stay unspoken and unconfessed; unreleased bombs that will level an entire lifetime of trust.

 

This isn’t an act of dramatics; what destroys her destroys me also. My wife, my Doc. And I knew this, even when I was participating in destruction that could lay us bare and open to waiting pilfers. I blame me. She’ll blame me, too. She’ll have reason enough. Reasons.

 

I think she should know what’s been going on between us. Holly’s text flew across my iPhone screen with fury. Like a dying man’s last words stay long beyond their last breath,

 

 

Holly’s resonated. Broken and unsparing, they lasted beyond my quick and deceitful deletion. I could send Holly’s words into the unretrievable, but I knew in another thirty minutes–or ten–depending on her mood, another would fill my inbox. I had to ignore them. I had ignored every one of them since leaving Salem with Marlena.

 

Her texts had changed in tone, structure, and even grammar. Long paragraphs were now stubby packed sentences. This small thing had become a mountain. I couldn’t avoid it anymore because Holly had finally gotten angry. And somehow Marlena had now become she. The she in our texts and angry conversations. There were so many of those now.

 

Before this, I could never have imagined Holly as edgy but this is exactly who she was now. Ever since what had happened between us–a small act of compromise–I’ve been a man with a stone around my neck, dragging the knowledge of what I’d done. Against the vows we promised to uphold. The reasons why had no power, no defense.

 

I’m just going to tell her, I texted back quickly.

 

I’d decided just then.

 

She–Doc–was lying in bed, asleep. She was finally beginning to trust herself against the doubts that Holly had opened up inside of her. For weeks now I had seen the questions

 

 

in her eyes. I had also managed to avoide every one with a truth of my own. Was something going on between Holly and myself? No. That was the truth. I believed myself when I answered Doc’s doubting eyes. There wasn’t. I didn’t have any compelling feelings toward Holly. There was nothing there.

 

Really? Holly wanted to know. Her single word felt unsure, a testing.

 

I looked to my wife whose slightly browned skin glowed beneath the hovering sun that filled every window in the mountain hideaway we’d arrived at last night. Whose body was naked and beautiful, and curled into a ball around the pillow that held my scent, and whose hair was curly from lovemaking. It hid her face but not the delicate length of her smooth neck.

 

“Yes.” I answered Holly’s impatient second text. I might have been bluffing. I might have been serious. I just needed the space to decide. By answering her anger, I realized I might have lit the dynamite myself.

 

Being ignored hadn’t stopped the endless texts. They were ceaseless during meetings, while I was with my children–and Marlena, now that she was home. Holly wanted constant contact. It was the way she controlled our situation. I had encouraged her by not ignoring her after what happened between us because I felt like she was a good person. She had taken great care of my

 

 

children in their mother’s absence. I kept trying to tell her we needed to find a way to coexist without anything else happening between us. Marlena was on the road then. Holly was always there, and if she wasn’t in the house, then she was texting. Her presence had suffocated me a long time ago.

 

I was no longer afraid of what she might say to Doc.

 

She couldn’t control this anymore. By telling her that it would be me telling Marlena about what had happened would either infuriate or neutralize her. I didn’t care which at the moment.

 

I was on vacation with my wife. I powered off my phone. This week was bout my marriage, about connecting to my wife again. And possibly about breaking her heart with my inferior heart.

 

The cabin, which belonged to Christman, was in the Adirondack’s surrounded by mountains and green trees that looked as if they were created in the skylines. A lake sat at the end of an ancient long wooden bridge that was perfect for skinny dipping. Marlena had called it cozy when she laid her eyes on the water. It was quiet and hidden away from the other homes around the lake. There was only one way onto the property that Christman had offered when I told him I needed a place close to

 

 

New York City. The other part of our trip included a fundraiser planned by Christman in the city that she had no idea about. I planned to tell her later in the week.

 

Marlena had loved the property on first sight. We’d landed at the private airstrip and driven up to the cabin under a sky full of stars. It was the perfect night. We let the soft listening station fill the car instead of our voices as we had driven to the cabin. She was relaxed against the seat. Her cotton candy colored toes were curved against the dashboard. I’d worn her out over the last couple of days.

 

I’d kept her hand pressed to mine as I drove. Her fingernails had played against my skin. Every so often, she’d tilt close enough to kiss the edge of my mouth. Only the danger of being arrested for indecency held off the urge to pull over and make love on the side of the road before we reached the property. But after we pulled off the main road into the long gravelly path leading to the cabin all bets were off.

 

There was something about the way she looked or seemed. Lately, whenever we talked about anything it was hard not to notice that she was trying hard to keep her head in the conversation. These little trips–like our Louisiana trip– seemed to be the only time that she was less distracted. Things had not only changed in our relationship but they had also

 

 

changed in our house. Not just because of Holly. Everything had changed with the publication of her book. She wasn’t as available–hell, she was not at all available since her life began to revolve around the book and wherever it took her next. But, Marlena was my partner; and I needed her. Ever since the kids had gone away and I’d had her to myself, it was beginning to feel like I had my Doc back. It had only been a couple of hours but already I felt progress.

 

After we pulled onto the property, she had looked out across the night’s horizon and talked about the way the moon was dancing on the lake. A quick smile curled her lips. My favorite bikini was in her bag. Fireflies circled themselves making their own light show against inky darkness. She liked that, too. Up a tiny slope of grass on a hill was the cabin. The second floor balcony looked out onto the lake. I had chosen this spot because it presented itself as a world unto itself. We wouldn’t have to leave for anything for days. The fridge was stocked with wine, cheeses, fruits; all of Doc’s favorites.

 

“There’s where we’ll be staying,” I’d directed her eyes toward the cabin. It was lit up inside, waiting for us.

 

Her fingers gripped my thigh and squeezed. She tossed her head playfully making her ponytail sway behind her. “I want you to make love to me,” she said under her breath, waiting a beat

 

 

before she climbed carefully into the back seat. “Right here under the stars,” she’d said as she pulled off her gold strappy sandals–he ones that made her legs look sexy as hell–to toss them into the seat she’d left empty.

 

She was wearing an electric blue dress. I could see round indentions of her nipples pressing against the thin material. It was still wrinkled from our quickie on the plane. At take-off, I had had her on the bathroom sink with her dress hiked above her hips. By the time the airplane leveled altitudes, we were bent over each other catching our breath.

 

Pearl buttons were holding the dress together between her breasts. Barely holding it together. The moon glowed blue through the sunroof forming a perfect halo over her hair. She started to unbutton her dress slowly. Her breasts fell loose and free. Her bra was stuffed in her purse. And in my pants’ pocket were her dampened panties. I sat patiently watching her find the sexy alter ego reserved purely for me from my seat behind the wheel. I watched through the rearview mirror as she wet her parted lips, her legs followed suit. She raised a finger and directed me to come to her.

 

An animal cried out in the woods.

 

She turned toward the feral sound, and pulled her dress back over the skin she had bared just seconds ago. Her eyes

 

 

darted to me. The vulnerability turned my stomach. I opened my door and climbed out into the darkness. The smell of nature hit me harshly. I recognized it from some distance memory that I couldn’t exactly place. The wry scent of mud and trees and mating animals tucked in muggy moisture.

 

Doc opened the door, her arms wrapped immediately around my shoulders. We fell together backwards. I could smell my cologne in her hair, along her neck. “I guess you didn’t need those underwear after all,” I joked, helping her wrap her legs around my back. She fumbled with my pants using her feet to pull them down my legs.

 

There was no barrier between us. Her fingers had run down my back and curved over my ass needing an immediate connection. We’d cleaned up from the plane before we stepped off, but she was pulsing with nectar as I nudged at her tightness. She pulled at me and I gave her what she wanted thoughtlessly. She bucked at my rough entrance. She cried out, her fingers clawed into my skin. She lowered her legs and arms.

 

“Are you okay?” I’d asked, pulling back my fullness from her moistness.

 

She hid her face in my chest and whispered, “Maybe I’m still sore…but I need you. I don’t care.” She wrapped her legs around my hips and propped her feet tightly against my back.

 

 

“You need me,” I asked, giving her a moment to relax and loosen before easing back into her. “Again?”

 

She squirmed past the discomfort muttering,

 

“Always…honey.” She was clenching her teeth, bracing for the

 

connection our pelvises made when I rocked into her. “I love

 

you,” she repeated as she turned away from me and started

 

moaning.

 

Her arms involuntarily rose above her head to hold onto the door handle. I gripped both elbows in my palms and used them to add depth to my smooth but hard movements. I was mindful of her tenderness but she still answered my hips with odd whimpers that sounded painful in my ears.

 

I started making love to her slowly, purposely. As though our mission was two-fold: pleasure and conception. We never planned for babies. I felt an emptiness in that. We had never consciously together made a baby, the way newlyweds plan and do. Belle had been my choice; Nicky and Noodle were God’s. Marlena had always found herself pregnant by some act of unknowing will. If we were making babies still, this is the way we’d do it. The way we had been all over each other all day and the day before. Anywhere. With a faith that we were adding to our family, sealing our fate to each other. I never used protection anyway. I never bothered with it. I let Marlena

 

 

handle that. I couldn’t say for sure if she was on any birth control but since no more babies had come into our family after Noah, I assumed that she must be taking something.

 

I had a secret wish that she wasn’t. If I gave her another baby, she couldn’t leave me and our other babies. She wouldn’t do pregnancy alone again. That was a conversation that we had had. She’d said that she regretted the way each of her pregnancies went because of the turmoil. I did, too.

 

“Wouldn’t it be something,” I whispered, “if we were making a baby right now?”

 

Her eyes grew larger as she looked up into my face. I was circling inside of her, touching all the hidden places. “A baby?” she asked in an even quieter voice, like she didn’t want the universe to hear.

 

“Yeah,” I gritted, holding back from a sudden rush of energy rising from the sound of Doc’s voice. I could be inside of her forever because we weren’t rushing; I wasn’t. I was cherishing the unconscious sounds leaving her as I moved against her. “Another one of our babies?”

 

She moaned and whimpered, her mind was elsewhere. Her legs had fallen along with her resolve. She still had the presence of mind to clench deep within. It drove me crazy feeling her muscles tensing around me. Drawing me deeper,

 

 

slower. I let her elbows go and leaned forward. “Doc, you’re killing me. I don’t want to finish yet…I don’t want to yet…”

 

“Say it…” she moaned, smiling slyly.

 

“Say what?”

 

“What am I going to make you do? Say it,” she said, squeezing tighter inside.

 

I recognized the glint in her eyes. They were lit by the moon smiling into the sunroof. She wanted to be someone other than proper Marlena. Maybe it was the moon or the seclusion, but I took her up on her invitation. Sometimes our sex was what she would call naughty. Dirty words that would make her blush anywhere else except during sex.

 

“Honey, don’t stop,” she half-pleaded when I stopped moving between her thighs.

 

“Shh,” I said, kissing her pursed lips. She opened her mouth and took hold of my tongue. We kissed as she tried to get my hips moving again. “Turn around,” I said, surprising her. “I’m going to make you come.”

 

She grinned and grabbed another kiss before we broke apart for her to turn slowly over onto her knees. The space was tiny. She was too. Her knees fit perfectly within the width of the seat.She squirmed in anticipation. I taunted her flesh with kisses when she lowered her face and lifted her backside like a

 

 

worthy gift. I swatted her creamy skin, eliciting a yelp. I kissed the reddened place and moved to kiss the swollen glistening lips between her legs. I lingered behind her lapping at her until she couldn’t stand it. I knew by the growing sounds escaping her mouth. I sat up and swatted the other cheek without warning and then moved to plunge back into her waiting center. She was closer to an orgasm than I was, but I didn’t need to finish again. I wanted her to wilt under me when her body exploded. She was angled so perfectly against me that I didn’t have to work hard to send her over. I held onto her hips and rode her forcefully until she was calling my name repeatedly, until she stiffened and then shivered into her orgasm. She collapsed on the seat and I fell over her.

 

“You didn’t…” she breathed out, welcoming my arms around her from behind.

 

“I’m good, honey. This was about you.”

 

She pressed my hand to her lips and inhaled. “I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too Baby.”

 

It was humid by the time I changed into running shorts for a jog around the lake. Doc was sleeping. I was tempted to wake

 

 

her up making love to her with my mouth but she looked so peaceful that I couldn’t disturb her. I had left my phone on the nightstand, powered off. It was time to clear my mind. Even with all the sex, I was still tight with nerves. My chest and neck were the most effected. I needed one of Doc’s killer massages. I felt too guilty to ask for it. I deserved the discomfort. This run was going to relieve some of it. The scene before me was peaceful. I stood at the railing on the wrap-around porch that curved the entire length of the cabin. On the water, fishers were casting lines in its center. It was the first sign of life I’d seen on the lake since last night.

 

I peeled off my tank and tossed it across the back of a lounger. The humidity was so thick pellets of sweat formed immediately. The sun hadn’t fully turned on its shine. It was hiding behind a pocket of clouds. There would be rain later. I could smell it rising. I headed down the stairs of the cabin to stretch in the grass.

 

More than exercise, I needed to work my mental muscles. I had a running script in my head of what I would say to Doc. It was an ongoing tape that played. Ruining a life doesn’t need an audience. I had people that I could talk to but I didn’t want to admit that I had betrayed Doc to anyone except for her. I didn’t want to say the words aloud to anyone else except to the person

 

 

who deserved to hear them. I had a hard enough time hearing them in my head.

 

There were very few times in my life when I’ve felt paralyzed by anything. But I was dreading this, dreading that I would have to bring Doc into my confidence about this particular secret. If I hadn’t learned anything from Stefano I learned that protecting your family was the most sacred job a man could have. That meant protecting them from any harm, even harm that I caused. Holly had hinted that she could make running for the senate seat hard, but more than I wanted to run for any public office or be successful at my business, I wanted my marriage and my family.

 

I bent to tighten my shoestrings, took a couple slow breathes and stood. I’d noticed a worn path that ran the edge of the lake into the woods surrounding the property. I hit the solid ground with unmatched energy and darted down the hill toward the lake. For the second time, the smells struck me with instant familiarity. I closed my eyes to images that seemed to belong to me. Not something given through hypnotic suggestion or any other trick. But a blood drawn memory that felt genuine. I saw the blurry images of two adults standing near the water. They were calling out to me, but I didn’t understand the language. Or what they called me. A man and a woman, both dark-

 

 

haired. I kept running, kept seeing.

 

I tried to pace my breathing with my stride, but raggedy breaths intruded. I made it down the dirt path into the mouth of the woods. I’d never felt a memory so genuine, one that I knew I could trust. Who were they? I had an intuition that they belonged to me. That they were a part of me. That they were mine. I held onto them as I ran on.

 

There in the haven of trees, where the sun was forbidden access, I stopped. My head exploded with images. They knocked with force at the edges. My chest erupted in pain. Sharp shooting thrusts of pain that ran up and down my arms. I cried out, Doc, before collapsing in the cool dirt. I grabbed my head and squeezed to stop the pain. I called out again, Doc. I took some painful breathes and reached into my pockets. No phone. The pain rose behind my eyes. The last image I saw, clear and warm, was of Doc smiling down into my face.

 

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Reckoning

 

(Tuesday : pm)

 

“Belle.”

 

Relief flooded through me when I heard her voice on the other end of the line. Thank God for phones that memorize numbers for you, otherwise my shaky fingers would never have managed to get Belle. As it was, Belle was thousands of miles from us which meant extra numbers to remember. I couldn’t extinguish the panic from my voice if I’d tried.

 

“Honey…”

 

Her sunny voice faded.”Mama? What’s wrong? You sound

 

strange.”

 

“It’s your Daddy…” It was difficult to string

 

 

logical words together. “…I can’t…I can’t find him honey.”

 

“What do you mean you can’t find Daddy? Where is he?”

 

Her questions sprung forth like darts. Precise and cogent. “Where are you?”

 

I looked around the sun-lit cabin whose floors had been worn dull from my pacing. A distinct tread lay in the rug underneath my feet. I had finally given into exhaustion and sat down on the chocolate couch to call Belle.

 

“Honey, Daddy brought us to this cabin…in New York, upstate New York. Last night.” Our bags were still near the door where John had left them. The jeep keys hung on a hook near the door. “The jeep is out front. I found his shirt on the front porch.” I was holding it in my lap, had smelled and hugged it. My voice broke over my next sentence. “He didn’t leave a note. I don’t know where he is.”

 

I’d called Belle for obvious reasons. If there was any other person on earth who understood why my heart was in my throat, it would be our daughter. She would understand it all. The odd need to vomit. The startling darkness crowding my thoughts. She would know. She was his daughter. And because of this, she would try her best to help me find him.

 

“How long has it been?”

 

Her question drew a blank. “Since?”

 

 

“Since you’ve seen him, Mom,” she said patiently.

 

Oh my goodness, I heard myself whisper. “Um, um this morning…” I tried to mentally recall the time. What we did. When. “I slept in this morning. We had a long night. I..I think he woke up at six or seven. It was really early.”

 

“So about eight hours?”

 

“He left while I was sleeping,” I told her, anew with panic. “Honey, that’s a long time. Daddy never does this. He always lets me know where he is.”

 

“I know Mom,” Belle said, her voice trembling.

 

“So what is this?” I whispered.

 

She ignored the unanswerable question. “Have you tried

 

calling?”

 

“Of course, Isabella,” I nearly screamed out. It was the first thing I had done after sitting and waiting for an hour and a half. “It just goes straight to voicemail, Belle. I’m sorry I yelled, baby. I’m terrified.”

 

“It’s okay, Mom. I know you’re going out of your mind with worry.”

 

“I am,” I admitted chewing into my bottom lip. “What is this? What’s going on?”

 

“Mama, please calm down. I know Daddy’s okay but we have to remain calm. Okay?”

 

 

“Honey, I don’t know where Daddy is,” I was compelled to remind her.

 

“I know.”

 

“I want your Daddy, Belle.”

 

“Mama, look around. Check your surroundings. Maybe there is a note that you may have missed. Right?”

 

“Belle…”

 

“Mom, just do this for me. I can’t be there right now. I wish that I could; I wish I were there with you right now. I feel completely helpless but you can’t fall apart right now. Okay? Do this for me? Where are you?”

 

“On the couch.”

 

“Stand up, look around. Dad’s the king of

 

surprises…check the refrigerator. The bathroom. I’ll wait…”

 

she coaxed gently.

 

I stood, quickly. The room tilted with vengeance. I plopped back down and curved my fingers around the edge of the couch pillows. I struggled for air until the room leveled.

 

Belle sat waiting quietly on her end. She hadn’t heard

 

me.

 

I stood again, this time slowly. I let my eyes roam the beautifully lit room. It was awash in neutral colors that complemented the wooden walls and floors. I hadn’t paid much

 

 

attention to my surroundings last night. The couch faced the ceiling high window that looked out onto the lake. A medium light brown table sat near the couch. Brochures and menus laid on top spread into a neat fan.

 

I walked around the couch toward the center of the room. I circled slowly eyeing every flat surface before moving onto the kitchen. It was an L-shaped room with chrome appliances and brown marbled counter tops. There was no note anywhere in the kitchen.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Nothing so far, baby. I’m walking through the first floor before I head back upstairs.”

 

“Okay. I’m here. I’m trying Dad’s line now on Shawn’s

 

phone.”

 

“Maybe we should try his secretary or Holly…I don’t

 

know.”

 

“Okay, I’ll do that while you search. Look everywhere

 

Mom.”

 

I had swept through the dining room before heading up the two sets of stairs leading to bedrooms. The only door ajar was the bedroom we were in. It was the master suite. The bed was still messy the way I’d left it when I woke up a little after eleven. I was starving. I had gotten out of bed and threw on the

 

 

silky black nightie that I’d left on the end of the huge wooden sleigh bed. I’d pulled open the curtains that covered the balcony door and opened it to allow some fresh lake air to circulate in the room.

 

The curtains danced in the wind lifting them from the floor. John’s pants from last night were on the dresser where I folded them. It looked exactly as it had when I discovered him not there.

 

“Belle, I don’t see anything.” I started for the bathroom when John’s phone caught my eye. “Oh my, honey it’s here..it’s here on the nightstand. I don’t know how I missed it.” I had it in my hand. “It’s powered off Belle.”

 

There was instant relief in Belle’s voice. “Good Mom, that explains why he’s not answering. Shawn’s on with his secretary. She hasn’t heard from him since Monday morning. He cleared his schedule for the week. He’s going to call Holly next.”

 

“Okay,” I sat on the bed with the phone in my hand. He wasn’t missing. He wasn’t avoiding my calls. The slender phone eased some of my anxiety.

 

I held the button until it switched on. “Baby, he probably went for a run. It makes sense. He wouldn’t take his phone to run.” I pieced it together for my own sanity. “The

 

 

shirt on the porch. I think he’s out for a run.”

 

“Yes, that makes total sense.” She spoke to Shawn in the background while I waited for the phone to load. “But, Mom, it’s been a long time. He’s still not back.”

 

She was right. “Honey…”

 

“Don’t worry. Holly spoke to Daddy this morning,” Belle was feeding the information Shawn was getting from Holly to me.

 

John’s lock screensaver popped up. A picture of the babies taken over two years ago. Noodle and Nicky were sitting beside each other while Noah stood behind them with a huge grin. It brought a much needed smile to my face. I slid the unlock bar and the phone popped open. It instantly registered all the voicemails I’d left. in total. Belle’s voicemail, too. There were calls he had taken from his secretary and the babies. There hadn’t been any calls between last night and now. I cleared that notification and sent the phone back to the home screen. I went to the message screen. Holly’s name was the top message. There were ten unread messages. For the first time since John disappeared, I felt real dread thrust itself into my chest. My stomach fluttered harshly.

 

“Honey, what’s Holly saying?” I asked, opening the

 

thread.

 

 

“Nothing we don’t know. She said they texted earlier.” I scrolled through the texts nodding absently to

 

Belle. Think of what happens if you tell her. I don’t want to hurt her anymore than we all ready have. Don’t do it. Think of your family. I was being brash. I wouldn’t hurt you in that way. Forgive me.

 

I dropped the phone into my lap.

 

“Belle…”

 

“Yes Mama?”

 

“I…” What was it that I wanted to say? “The texts from Holly…”

 

“Mom?”

 

“I don’t know what’s going on…”

 

“What’s wrong? What do they say?”

 

The screen had gone black on John’s phone but her words were burned in my memory. I held back. Out of respect for John and our marriage. The thing that I had been feeling was now hardened deep in my belly. I could vomit. I felt the urge pulling at me. What was going on between my husband and this woman?

 

“Mom?”

 

“Honey, tell Holly I’ll phone her. Hang up with her.

 

Now,” I said bluntly.

 

 

Belle didn’t question it. She told Shawn and through the line I heard him relay the message. I didn’t know if he was gone because of her, or if she were playing games. What I did know was the feeling in my belly tightened until I had to press my hand to it. I didn’t know if I should be concerned about John or just angry. It was there. They both were; a complete blend of anger and fear. I opened John’s phone again with a swipe of my finger. Holly’s messages were the only one’s that came to his phone while it was powered off. Had he done that to stop her from contacting him? Was he off licking his wounds? Did he go away to think about this damn thing that was making me sick.

 

It rose so swiftly that I could only grab the trash receptacle near the bed to catch what expelled itself from my mouth. Belle was calling my name, asking if I was all right as I heaved into the trash. After some dry heaving, I was able to set it back on the floor and pick my phone back up.

 

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

 

“I’m worried sick,” I explained. “I’ll be okay. Let’s just find Daddy, Okay.”

 

“Okay…who do we call next? Roman? Uncle Bo?”

 

My head was again spinning. “Baby, I really don’t know. We’re in this isolated cabin in the woods. I don’t know what to do.”

 

 

“Will you be okay if I hang up and make a few calls?” “Sure,” I said. I wanted to get into the bathroom to

 

get some water to rinse my mouth out. “I’m okay.”

 

“Mom, I’ll call you back in less than ten minutes.”

 

“Go on, Honey. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Mom, I love you. I’ll find Daddy.”

 

“Okay, Belle. I love you, too.” I ended the call and headed slowly into the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and let the water turn cool. It ran between my fingers. I grabbed the cup on the sink board and filled it with water. Swallowing quickly, a couple drops made their way down my chin. It didn’t settle my stomach but my mouth felt cleaner. I bent to the low sink and splashed water onto my face. My skin was feverish. The cool drops felt good rolling down my cheeks. I dried my face and hands with the towel hanging on the wall near the sink. My reflection was startling when I finally had a good look at my face. The makeup from last night had made muddy paths beneath my eyes. My hair frizzed into curls that lay in messy heaps against my head. My eyes were pink and swollen.

 

“Oh my goodness…” The children, I thought. I could so clearly see Nicky and Noodle’s faces turned in horror at the thought of never seeing John again. Noah would be destroyed. We all would. Our lives would be so empty of happiness and joy if

 

 

he was gone. I didn’t want to think in those terms but standing in the mirror I faced that truth. What if he was gone? But if he was, where and why had he gone?

 

I couldn’t stand around waiting for something to happen. He wouldn’t do that. He would be looking for me. He would be combing this entire place looking for me if I were the one who had gone missing. In order to do that, to search I needed to put on something other than the nightgown barely covering my body. Downstairs. The bags were still downstairs at the door. My nightgown had only made its way upstairs because I’d snuck downstairs to get it after John fell asleep.

 

I headed down to the bags and pulled out the first thing I felt. I shed the gown at the door and pulled on the pair of pants I had in my hand. I rummaged through the clothes and came up with a GAP tee shirt. I pulled it over my head and kicked the bags out of the way. Shoes. I didn’t see the luggage with the shoes. John would have had to have pulled his running shoes from it. I looked around the living room. It wasn’t there. I walked around the first floor until I spotted the rolling bag with all of our shoes. He’d left it by the back door in the kitchen. It was unzipped; some of the shoes were spilled on the floor. I sat down on the floor and put on my white Keds. What next? What would John do? I was trying hard to put myself in his

 

 

shoes when a loud knock came from the front of the cabin.

 

I rushed towards it, tripping over my own feet as I went. I reached the door breathless. I opened it to the stern face of a New York State Trooper. My knees gave out. The trooper reached forward as he stepped into the cabin. He held me up as I fell apart in his arms. “He’s not…” I mumbled into his chest.

 

“Ma’am, please…let’s sit,” he said, losing the sternness. “Come on,” he patted my back as he led me over to the couch. He sat beside me. “By you’re reaction I’m assuming that you are who I’m looking for.”

 

I was sitting up on my own holding my hands in my lap. “I’m Mrs. John Black.”

 

“Your husband then, he’s not dead, ma’am. Let me tell you that first.” He offered this softly. His hand was on my back again. “He was taken to Glen Falls Hospital this afternoon.”

 

I searched his lined face. “Why? What’s happened?”

 

“A heart attack I’m told. He was found in the woods by a local resident. Your husband didn’t have any identification on his person. We had to do a process of elimination to determine who he was. You’re the last cabin on the lake here.”

 

“He couldn’t tell you?”

 

“He’s been unconscious since they admitted him.”

 

“Oh goodness,” my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh

 

 

my…John.”

 

“His name is John Black?”

 

“Yes, he’s John Black. My husband. He’s…I didn’t know what happened to him. I’ve been worried out of my mind. I was just about to go looking for him.”

 

“I understand ma’am.”

 

“Who found him? Who?”

 

“Mrs. Demitriou. She owns some property across the lake. She happened to be on a walk when she came across him lying there. It’s lucky that she did. She may have saved his life.”

 

“Oh my…can you take me to him?”

 

“Yes ma’am. The hospital isn’t too far from here.”

 

I rose on shaky feet. The trooper whose name I hadn’t asked held my hand as he stood. “My daughter. I need to call her. She’s as frantic as I am.”

 

“Okay, we can do that from the car. Let’s get you to

 

him.”

 

“I’d appreciate that, Mr….”

 

“Trooper Declan. Do you need to get a purse or anything?” He asked.

 

“I guess so. It’s on the counter in the kitchen, I think. My phone. Oh, it’s upstairs on the bed. I have to get

 

 

that.”

 

“You sit here, ma’am. I’ll get them. Just catch your breath. You don’t look so good.”

 

I thanked him and waited until he went off to get my phone and purse.

 

He’d been lying in the woods, dying. I couldn’t feel my heart but I knew it was beating roughly under my skin. I heard a thunder clap over the cabin. The wind had gotten louder outside. John, my tower of strength had lain in the woods. Dying. I couldn’t loosen the image of him crumbling to his knees in the bed of dirt and grass, clutching the chest I loved to lay against. I knew the mechanical aspects of a heart attack. The tightening and shooting pains. The gasping for air. John had suffered all of these. It was hard to believe it. I couldn’t. Not even after the trooper came with my things and ushered me out of the house. Just as soon as I stepped onto the porch the sky opened up. I continued walking as rain pelted harsh drops against the earth. Trooper Declan offered to bring me an umbrella so I wouldn’t get wet, but I didn’t care. I let that rain run down my face and body, dampen my clothes. It was the only thing I could feel. Everything else had gone numb. He opened the door and I slid into the backseat of his car. He placed my purse and phone in my lap, and squeezed my hand before

 

 

closing the door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

 

We drove in silence as the storm surrounded us. The rain was hard and ferocious. He pulled out of the driveway onto the long road that led to the highway. I lay my head against the window. The sky had taken on an awful gray color. I wanted to phone Belle to let her know that her daddy had been found but I couldn’t. I needed to see my husband and touch him.

 

(: pm)

 

He was lying behind a glass window in a private room connected to machines. He looked the most fragile I had ever seen him. I couldn’t recall any time as a matter of fact having seen him look so vulnerable and stricken. I felt the most alone I’ve ever felt in my entire life, standing there with my arms wrapped around my middle. The nurse handling John was sweet enough to allow us privacy. We were in this room because the nurses at the front station recognized me. They had gotten the private room approved quickly upon my arrival. He had still been in the ER when I arrived. Trooper Declan called ahead to share John’s identity and with my permission release any medical records. The attending physician phoned as we drove. He had been

 

 

made aware that I was myself a doctor. He shared his diagnosis: a mild heart attack. They were monitoring his heart. It seemed strong, they said. Tests were to be run but nothing would be done until I was there, Dr. Hansen assured me. He was still unconscious when I arrived.

 

I had gone right to his bedside, careful of the wires and IVs, to touch him. He felt alive. His skin was warm and familiar. I put my cheek against his and closed my eyes to thank God. He was thankfully breathing on his own. Susan, his nurse, said they wanted him relaxed. He wasn’t in a coma, just heavily sedated. I had misunderstood that part on the phone. I folded our hands together, kissing the bond it made. He was going to be all right. He didn’t look strong but his resolve was stronger than anyone I’d ever known. This wouldn’t end him. For this, I was thankful. After holding and kissing him until I felt better, I left his side to phone Belle.

 

Half of Salem had called while I was riding in the police car. She had alerted her siblings and Roman. They all called and after being sent to voicemail sent text messages. Rachel offered to come here since Belle was unable to come. Sami and Roman also wanted to come. They were still under the assumption that John was missing. The outer suite to John’s room had a comfortable couch and recliner. I sat down and opened my phone. I created a

 

 

group text to include everyone important in our lives with these words: He’s okay. He’s in the hospital. Had a heart attack. Please don’t worry the children. I’ll call when I can.

 

Belle, I phoned. “Baby, it’s okay. He was in the woods. A lady found him. He had a heart attack.”

 

“A heart attack?” Belle was shocked. “Daddy is the healthiest person I know.”

 

“We’ll know more when the tests results come back, but it was mild. No real damage. No oxygen lost. I do believe your Daddy is going to be just fine.”

 

“Mom, are you sure?”

 

“I am, baby. I’m sitting here looking at him now. He’s a little worst for wear but that’s to be expected.” I was still nervous but I didn’t want Belle to hear that. “He’s been heavily sedated honey but when he finally wakes I’ll make sure he knows that you love him.”

 

“Will he be able to call me?”

 

“I think so, Sweetie. Let’s just wait until he comes

 

around.”

 

She exhaled. “Mom, I’m so relieved. I was so scared that he was gone.”

 

“I know, baby. I was too but he’s not. He’s right

 

here.”

 

 

“I’m so glad. I’m planning to come home, Mom. I was going to anyway but this just makes me want to do it sooner.”

 

“Honey, I’ll take good care of Daddy. You have a

 

family.”

 

“You two are my family. If something were to happen to you or Daddy, Mom, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for being so far away. I miss you.”

 

“Baby, we miss you, too.” A tear pricked my eye. “I’ll always miss you.”

 

“Now is not the time, but I was planning on calling you anyway. There are things I want to say to you that I can’t now.”

 

She sounded strange. “Baby?”

 

“No, take care of Daddy. I’ll be in touch.”

 

“Of course….and Belle, thank you for being there for

 

me today. I really needed you.”

 

“I’m glad I was the one you called. Now kiss Daddy and make sure you rest too.”

 

“I will. Goodbye, honey.”

 

“Bye Mom.”

 

There was a text waiting when I lowered my phone. Holly. I’m praying for John. I hope everything is all right. For one moment, temptation curled my fingers over the keyboard of my

 

 

phone to reply with all the anger I’d bottled up since seeing her texts to John. It was easy to sequester that emotion when John was missing. I was the champion of compartmentalizing my emotions. But now, my husband was behind the pane of glass and Holly was reaching out. There was enough silence to think on those texts. I hadn’t done that yet. I had avoided going there. But, Holly, it seemed was determined to insinuate herself into my thoughts. Even as I sat waiting for my husband to recover.

 

There were moments I now needed to dissect. What had I missed? There were things that now made sense that hadn’t before. John’s behavior over the past couple of weeks. It was all leading to this. His heart couldn’t handle whatever this was. And, to be clear, I didn’t know what it was. I only knew that my stomach hadn’t stopped turning. It mirrored the tumbling of thunder and rain outside.

 

You can think that your life is a perfect sunny day–and then the clouds roll in to destroy that myth. We had rebuilt our lives over the last couple of years. I trusted John more than anyone else in my life. I had given him myself in every possible way. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Had I been foolish to do that? It wasn’t as though he’d never hurt me before. That was a given. We had destroyed each other before but I thought we had moved on from that. Were we still those people? I mean, what was

 

 

Hawaii and that ceremony if it wasn’t to promise to never do anything to rip us apart. I meant every word I said to him. I had sworn to be a better person and wife, a mother, in front of our children and my parents. I hadn’t done that generically. I thought that John hadn’t either. But you can never truly know another person’s heart. And realizing this saddened me more than anything else.

 

I had to breathe outside the walls surrounding us. John was still sleeping. My legs were unwilling to stay seated. I hopped up and left John’s suite. Susan and I met in the hall. She looked a little concerned.

 

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I was just going to get some air.”

 

“You don’t look well,” she eyed me from head to toe.

 

“I’m well. I just need air.” Susan’s face blurred.

 

“I’m a little dizzy.”

 

She reached for my hand and took a strong hold of my elbow as my legs gave way for the second time. “Dr. Evans, come with me.” She led me down the hall and turned into an empty hospital room. She helped me sit on the bed closest to the door. “Have you eaten?” She pressed her hand to my forehead, gave my eyes a look over. “How long ago?” She asked after I nodded. My shrug received a sigh. She reached behind me to hit the nurse’s

 

 

call button. When Francine, her partner at the front station answered she asked her to grab some fruit and a gingerale from the cooler. She advised me to lay back in bed until the dizziness subsided.

 

“I’m really fine, Susan.”

 

“You’re not. You don’t look well.”

 

For a woman who suspected that her husband was having an affair? Or for a wife whose husband had just had a heart attack? I didn’t dare ask. Of course I didn’t feel well. My life was twirling into a hurricane around me as I tried to stay planted in the center. You have to start re-evaluating things that before you were so certain of. Last night, this was the man who I trusted to submit to sexually, on my knees and let him turn my body into his playground. This is the man who woke up kissing and stroking me until I couldn’t do anything except climb on top of him to make love. Our daughters’ loved him; our son’s adored him. My parents trusted him to take care of me and our family. I broke apart my family with Roman over the love I couldn’t not share with John. This isn’t who we were.

 

Francine came with the jello and gingerale. She offered it to me with a smile that made me feel silly and useless. She put it on the bed table and left the room. Susan watched and waited until I took a couple spoonfuls of the red

 

 

jello. She kept a vigilant eye on the way I was barely able to swallow it. It drained down my throat with a sip of gingerale. My stomach buckled at its intrusion. I had my head in the bedpan that Susan held at my mouth soon after. She was taking this all in with her nurse’s eye.

 

I tried my own explanation. “It’s nerves. I’m all jittery from this morning. I haven’t calmed down yet.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“That’s exactly what it is. I’ve been shaky all day. And dizzy.”

 

She touched her mouth. “Have you been ill lately?” “No,” I combed my memory quickly. “It’s the stress of

 

today.”

 

“I can give you something.”

 

“A sedative?”

 

“Sure.” Susan said, turning to walk away. She paused and came back. “Dr. Evans, you’re not pregnant are you?”

 

I laughed before I could help myself. “Pregnant. Goodness, no…”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Of course. I’m on birth control.”

 

“Women have been known to become pregnant on birth control, as you know.”

 

 

I shook my head. “Susan, I’m absolutely not pregnant. I would know. It’s stress.”

 

“Can we take a test to be safe before I administer any medication?”

 

“A test? No, I don’t need any test. Do you realize how old I am? I’m not pregnant.”

 

“Stranger things have happened, Dr. Evans.” “Believe me, I am well aware of that but this isn’t

 

pregnancy. I’m a little shaken from my husband’s heart attack. I’ll be fine. I don’t need anything.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.” I sat up in the bed, showing her that I was better. My head was still a little wobbly, knees unsure. I put on a brave face. “I’m going to get some air.”

 

“Yes, Dr. Evans…” Susan said, helping me stand. We started walking when Francine paged Susan to John’s room. She looked at me and said, “He must be awake.”

 

My heart dropped. “Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Respectable Anger

 

There is pain so palpable that you can see it on someone’s skin, in their eyes. You can feel it scratching at your own skin, clawing at the opportunity to name itself. For her sake, I hoped this pain wasn’t without end. I hoped the pain dividing Doc’s face between relief and sadness would find a stopping

 

point. She had stepped into the room behind a nurse whose sense of duty sent her right over to my bedside. This woman dressed in lavender scrubs that added the only color to the bland white room where I’d opened my eyes laid her child-like hand on my shoulder. She smelled like fruit. One of those watered-down body sprays that Doc never wore was doused all over her clothing. Long walnut hair was gathered in a low ponytail. She stood over me with discerning eyes, small and dark to fit

 

 

the narrow spaces of her angular face.

 

She didn’t look more than twenty-five. “Mr. Black, I’m Susan. Do you know why you’re here?” Her tone was school teacher-y.

 

Her body blocked my view of Doc. “Chest pains,” I said, laying a hand over my heart. Those two words took effort to come out. I hadn’t used my voice for what felt like days. My words were stuck behind the thick wall formed in my throat. I forced air through the blockade. Susan raised the upper part of the bed. She poured water into a clear plastic cup from the beige container that sat on the night table. She eased my head forward and held the cup to my lips. I sipped slowly at the cool water. It saturated the driest parts of my mouth and throat.

 

“Is that better?”

 

“Much,” I said, lying back.

 

“Now, tell me about you coming here.”

 

A reflexive memory provided us the answer. “I must have passed out while I was running in the woods.”

 

Susan nodded. “Yes, you had a mild heart attack,” she revealed. Her words gentle and calming.

 

Panic lifted my eyes to Susan’s face. “Heart attack?” “Calm down, Mr. Black.” Her lowered hand was meant to

 

do so. “It was a mild heart attack.”

 

 

Susan had moved one footstep to the right and Doc was once again in line with my sight. She stood hugging herself against the wall. Someone had given her a dark blue jacket; a man’s jacket that looked huge on her. It was unzipped and pulled together by her arms. She had already settled into the fact that I’d had a heart attack. She wasn’t at all shocked. Her hazel eyes had gone dark. Blank. Pressing herself rigidly against the wall, she looked the way Jules looked when she was being shy and fearful.

 

Doc was able to look past me to Susan. They glanced and shared a private communication. An understanding. Marlena’s body eased a little. She watched as Susan lifted my arm and pressed her fingers against my wrist. She was a professional. The awkward silence between husbands and wives didn’t rattle her. She went about her work without words, too. She lowered my arm back to the bed and turned to the quiet machine monitoring my heart. She turned back to add a dark blue blood pressure cuff to my upper arm. She adjusted the cuff around the thin material of the hospital gown and then pressed a button. The cuff started a slow squeeze against my muscle.

 

Doc played absent-mindedly with her wedding band. She was so emotionless propped by the white wall, but she wasn’t without thought. Her emotions were hidden beneath the layer of

 

 

professionalism that she rose as needed. She had thoughts. Her eyes didn’t speak of them but her body did. She was terrified, I’m sure. I was in a hospital bed strapped to machines because of a mild heart attack. It didn’t matter that I was probably the healthiest person that she knew. She had been taught to not only be objective, but to project it with her patients. There were times that she came home and shared how a patient’s story had broken her apart inside. Not the details, just the way those details tore her up. She said she felt uncomfortable with others pain. That it could slice into her very core without drawing blood. Years of practice just made her better at hiding it than others. Removing yourself from your emotions was a part of her training, but they gnawed and chewed at her until she could find an outlet.

 

It could be mistaken for callousness, her detached way of handling things that didn’t happen inside her practice, by people who didn’t know her. Words disappeared, emotions froze. This quiet mood also struck her in times of fear. It had been that way when we found out about Nicky’s cancer. That silence felt terrifying. I couldn’t draw her from inside herself. She would sit with Nicky in her arms staring out of the hospital room for hours. In stark silence. An icy aloof quiet that chilled me to the very bone. And then, on her own, she would

 

 

come back to herself, to me and then let herself fall apart in my arms at night. In lovemaking, through tears. It was like her emotions had cracked through the top of the frozen pond and melted the ice. The next day, she’d be right back into her wordless state.

 

“Vitals look good?” Doc asked.

 

Susan removed the cuff from my arm. “Perfect.”

 

She sighed, mouthing Thank God, under her breath. How had she found out that I was here? I didn’t know if she’d waited for me to return to the cabin and panicked when I hadn’t. She shared a reluctant glance with me. A thin space of understanding opened between us. We were both relieved. I closed my eyes and thanked God myself. How had I gotten here? An older woman happened to enter the woods just as I collapsed my memory reminded me. I hadn’t been lying there long. She might have even seen when I’d fallen. She just appeared quickly as I struggled for air to come and go through my lungs. She put my head in her lap to cushion me from the damp ground. She told me that she was getting help. She dialed up and directed them with precise directions. She knew the woods and where we were she assured me as she stroked my temples. Dispatch stayed on the phone. She laid it on the ground beside me and began to whisper in another language, maybe Greek or Italian to herself while we waited. A

 

 

solemn collection of words. Her thick hair hung past her shoulders down the entire span of her back. When she leaned down to check my breathing, silky ropes of wavy golden hair covered my face. Her own face was youthful, line-less but she was an elder. Her lips were bright red; her eyes were pastel blue.

 

I could remember all of those details but not her

 

name.

 

All of this had happened nearly nine hours ago. I’d gone for a run at around eight this morning. It was almost dinner time. How Doc had missed the blare of the siren that cut through the woods to the very spot I lay was puzzling. I had been loaded into an ambulance with the woman who had found me held my hand and said very close to my ear that I would be fine. Her face disappeared behind the closed doors of the ambulance. I would have told her to find Doc and let her know what was going on. I hadn’t had the chance to do that. And now it was apparent what my wife had gone through in my absence.

 

I took a chance. “Doc, are you okay?”

 

Her tired brown eyes slanted across my face. “I’m fine,” she announced. Her words were rigid.

 

“Are you sure?” I asked.

 

Remorse rendered a softer answer. “How do you feel?”

 

“I’m good.”

 

 

She lowered her arms from her hugging her belly. “You’re not good. You had a heart attack John.”

 

“A mild one,” I smiled, feeling foolish when she responded with an eye roll. “I’m sorry. It’s not anything to joke about.”

 

She shook her head, “No, it’s not.”

 

“Why are you way over there? Come here.” She bit into her lip, thinking it over. “Doc?”

 

She conceded and came over to me. I reached for her hand. “Are you really okay?”

 

Susan answered for me. “He’s great. It really was a mild heart attack Dr. Evans.”

 

“See?” She finally took the hand I offered.

 

“He’ll recover quickly,” Susan assured her.

 

“Good,” she smiled at Susan.

 

“I’m more concerned with you,” Susan said looking down at me. “Your wife almost fainted, Mr. Black.”

 

Marlena flashed Susan a look. It ended Susan sharing her opinion. The awkward editorializing ended the warmth between she and Doc. She said that the doctor who took care of me would be in later and then left us alone.

 

There weren’t any windows in the boxy room. It was a private suite with sparse furniture: a chair at the foot and

 

 

next to the bed. No television. No lamps. She didn’t look all together like herself. She looked as if she’d been rushed here herself. Her hair was still curly and being held back from her face with a clip in the center of her head. No make-up except the remnants of yesterdays. Her eyes weren’t lively. They had a dull sheen. She’d been worried sick.

 

In light of what Susan had said, I asked, “You feeling all right?”

 

She took her hand from mine and folded her arms over her chest. “No, I was out of my mind with worry for you.” Tears escaped; she wiped at them roughly. “I didn’t know where you were. All of these things went through my head. The babies and the other children. Me. I called Belle. I was just out of my mind.” I tried sitting up to comfort her, but she gently held me back. “John, don’t do that. Do you realize that you’re not invincible? You’re as human as any other man.”

 

“Listen to me,” I grabbed her and forced her to bend to me. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry that I worried you. Hey,” she was pulling back, “wait a minute. You’re not invincible either. What’s up with what the nurse was talking about?”

 

Her eyes grew wide. “Don’t worry about me. I”m fine.” “Doc, baby, this isn’t a big deal.” Her arms went

 

 

around my neck. She was gentle about lying her head on my cheek, kissing my neck. “That’s all I needed.” She took deep painful breathes in my ear. Her heart was beating harshly. “I would never leave you. I love you so much.”

 

She stiffened, drawing her head back slowly. “Do you?” She asked when we were face to face.

 

“Of course.”

 

She angled her face down, hiding her eyes. “Do you love our life together?”

 

“Hey,” I eased her chin back up. “You know I do. I love our babies, every single one. I love our life.” She allowed me a tiny kiss. “There is nothing in this world that could destroy that.”

 

This made her shoot up from my arms and back away from the bed. She shook her head and turned slowly around, walking back to the other side of the room. Away from me. She took the same pose she’d held when Susan was examining me. Holding up the wall with her rigid body, she folded her arms and narrowed a glance my way. There was something burning inside her eyes. A destructive flame that threatened anyone who chanced to look into her glare. But her mouth stayed gentle, sloping. She was afraid. Trying to manage her anger or fear with the grace of her sweet nature. It was a battle waging before my eyes.

 

 

She spoke. “When you talk about us being destroyed…I want to throw up. You love me and our life? You love our family?” Sarcasm and disbelief carried each question.

 

“Yes,” I said, unsure of where this was coming from. “I love you.”

 

She answered that with a cold stare. An icy overlay had overcome the burning anger. This was righteous anger. It wasn’t fear or terror. And she didn’t care at this moment that I had probably almost lost my life. She wanted a confrontation.

 

Holly. She knew about Holly. I could read it in her

 

eyes.

 

I had practiced this. What I would say and how, but in the face of her anger I was speechless. We stared until the tension was too much. Words weren’t something we could share. But I couldn’t leave her out there in her anger alone without an answer.

 

I chanced a redemptive answer. “I don’t know what you know, or what you think you know…” or what Holly might have told her.

 

She didn’t respond. Her eyes fluttered and I saw the tears coming down. She hugged herself harder. And she looked at me in a way that I’ve never seen her look before. I couldn’t handle that look.

 

 

“Honey, say something.”

 

“I’m trying to figure out when you learned to lie to me so well. I didn’t think you could,” she shook her head sadly, “not well. I always thought I would know.”

 

“I’m not–” Her lifted hand stopped me.

 

“You lied when you said that you loved me.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know anything…all I know is that you and Holly are holding onto something that you both don’t want me to know. That’s all I know. It’s unacceptable. You’re lying and I can’t live with someone who doesn’t tell the truth. It’s not how I choose to live. I don’t deserve to live a lie because you’re too cowardly to be honest. My children don’t deserve that either.”

 

“Our kids,” I corrected her.

 

“Your kids, our kids…either way, you’ve made decisions that will change their lives.”

 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Nothing was going to change, not if I could help it. “It’s not what you think. There is nothing that is going on between us.”

 

“You’ve said that and said that,” she cried quietly. “I don’t believe you.”

 

That tore me up inside. “Doc…”

 

“I saw her texts, her own words.” She wiped her face

 

 

again. “Did you sleep with her? While my children were in the house? Did you do that?”

 

“Doc.”

 

“Answer me,” she raised her voice for the first time. “Honey, what did she say to you?”

 

“Not to me, John…she sent you texts. When I was on the verge of losing my mind, I found your phone. Your phone. Her words. Not mine. Not my decisions. You two…”

 

“There is no us two.”

 

She raised both hands to her face. She was crying still, trying to catch her breath. Wounded eyes surfaced from behind her hands. “Don’t lie to me. Please, don’t do that to me.”

 

“I’m not,” I said adamantly.

 

Her hands fell to her sides.”This is how you’re going to…Johh, tell me something. Please.”

 

“I love you,” I said simply.

 

Her head shook violently. “Then you have a fine fucking way of showing it.”

 

She sighed and left the room, left with her words and anger, without saying another word to me.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

An Unexpected Guest

 

Susan graciously ignored the disjointing sight of me tearing out of John’s room. We narrowly missed collision. She moved aside, pulling the clipboard in her hand to her chest. Her eyes singed their imprint across my back as I kept walking, past her and the questions that might have surfaced if I stayed. I didn’t have a single word to offer her or anyone. Not my even my husband. I needed a moment to myself. There were things that could overwhelm the nice balance I’d gained on my sanity. Not that I felt that I was close to losing the careful grip I had, I wasn’t that person any longer. I had done terribly hard work to get where I was now. Since Shalit, and now with Dr. Taylor. I know John feared that the numb clone that took over my life when I was pregnant with Nicky could come back at any time. I would

 

 

never ever be that ill again. I couldn’t allow myself to be. I had children who needed me more than I anything else.The only thing John had to worry about was us. I didn’t know what we were.

 

I walked on without guidance. Following the invisible trail of my own footsteps ushered me down the endless corridor. It was so blank. Stark and picture-less, I searched for some burst of color. A sign of life. A focus other than the torrent of thoughts clouding my mind.

 

They were there again, rising as fiercely as a summer storm that smiled on you as it destroyed everything in its path; those nagging doubts about Holly and John that I’d buried. That I allowed John to help me forget in the assurances of lovemaking, of solemn words that felt as genuine as the wedding band encircling my finger. Hadn’t he declared last night how much he loved and only wanted me. Lies easily whispered with the slowest descent of his hand, the unification of our bodies, were still lies. I had been so blind and eager to believe him. And eager to have him inside of me. Our coming together was proof that what he said was true.

 

I was wrong. He had lied so well that I thought I might have created the suspicions. I had began giving Holly the benefit of the doubt. She was a woman, a wife and mother, too.

 

 

She appeared to have respect and genuine admiration for me. I am one of those women who believe that affairs would cease if women learned to respect another women’s space. Not that the impetus belonged solely to women, but if men were incapable of respecting that boundary shouldn’t women do so in the name of sisterhood? Shouldn’t Holly, as a woman who had the same fears and responsibilities as me understand that?

 

It wasn’t about Holly, though. This was about John, who hadn’t even flinched when I asked him about Holly. He didn’t even have to think about lying. How long had he been lying? Would I even know it? I trusted him so entirely that I lived in the un-mistakeable mist of a clueless wife. Imagine, a woman my age with a lifetime of marital experience and a practice that has given untold insight into relationships, affairs–my own affair with John–missing the signs. When did it become so easy for John to lie to me? When did I stop paying that much attention to my husband, my marriage?

 

I kept moving down the hall. I had no instincts. It wasn’t until I wound up at the end of the hall, which was an intersection between the elevator, the door to the stairs, and the window, that I realized I was holding my breath. It was making me light-headed. I paused there, in the frame of the ceiling-high window. The rain was still falling outside. Heavy

 

 

gray clouds shrouded the sky. Evening was coming on strong. I curved my hand along the window sill and leaned my face against the cool glass. My legs felt as though I’d been using them to run a marathon. The fatigue came over me like a coma, sudden and inexplicably. My eyes closed and I relished the darkness it offered. A reprieve from the engulfing vagueness, the uncertainty. I could sleep for days tumbling through picture-less dreams and thoughtlessness. Except that my brain wasn’t as forgiving as that. Swiftly, the image of John and Holly lifted behind the curtain of my eyelids. They were curled into a disturbing ball of mechanics; they were devouring each other. I shook the picture loose, tearing my eyes open. And then sound ripped through my throat, and then came tears that I let fall as freely as the rain outside.

 

“I don’t know what do,” I whispered to no one at all. Tears overcame my eyes. I didn’t think I had any left. Everything became glassy. The slick street on the highway that was cushioned against the hospital’s campus. The beautiful trees and landscape of upstate New York. My wedding rings. Twisting it around my finger encouraged another onslaught of tears. My body gave into sobs. I trembled so that I folded my arms around my frame and used the wall to hold me up.

 

The elevator chimed. The sound was alarming. It was

 

 

the first thing I’d heard over myself. The steel and cables thrust to life beyond the doors as it made its way toward the floor I was on. Watching the numbers above the doors quickened my heart. I wiped my face roughly. There was no hope. Anyone who saw me would know I’d been crying. I pulled my hair down and fluffed my bangs around my eyes. When the elevator reached the floor, the doors slid opened smoothly.

 

A tiny girl no more than three strolled out. Her little voice was wrapping itself around a song that I know my babies had sung. Her parents were behind her. Like most children, she was in her own world using her imagination to entertain herself. Until she saw me. She stopped in front of me. Her sweet chubby face was shaped by brown curly hair. She looked up with the sheen of innocence and the unvarnished truth. The way my Noah looked.

 

She gave a wave. “Hi.”

 

I smiled down into her sweet face.”Hello Sweetie.”

 

She tugged on her mother’s hand, and then pointed toward my face. “Is she sad, Mama?” Her mother, embarrassed for us both, crouched near her little girl. She smiled sympathetically at me as she whispered to her daughter. The little girl nodded obediently. “Have a nice day.”

 

“Thank you, Sweetie.”

 

 

They walked away, disappearing into a room about midway down the hall.

 

I turned to the door leading to the stairwell and pushed into the only place that offered solitude. People rarely used stairs in hospitals. They opted most always for the elevator. I’d lived practically my adult life working in places like this. It should feel as familiar as any other hospital. I hadn’t practiced at Salem University in years but all hospitals should feel the same. I should feel the same. Assertive and in control as any other doctor in a given situation. It didn’t. I felt as foreign as rain in a dessert.

 

We were on the top floor of the hospital. I peered over the steel bars where the sound of the hospital seemed to be congregating. The elevator, air conditioning, and PA system. If I jumped, how long would it be before I didn’t feel the pain anymore? Dr. Shalit would be alarmed that a thought so dangerous and selfish could have space in my mind. John would be troubled. But, I wasn’t going to jump. I wasn’t sad. Or suicidal. Only red anger filled my body. Raging un-chartered anger. John had been spared my anger over the years that we had been together. I usually reserved anger for people that I didn’t love. I could always find some justification for why my children or loves would allow themselves to hurt me. I always felt that people

 

 

whom I loved wouldn’t hurt me had they been able to help themselves. When Sami was being unbearably angry, I combated it with love every time. She couldn’t help herself. I had hurt her in ways that destroyed her innocence. Maybe that’s why I accepted her anger and never matched it.

 

When John was with Kate, even Kristen, I found reasons why those things had happened. I had pushed him away, told him to make things work with Kristen. The guilt over our affair was something I didn’t easily get over. Roman had left me and our children. Belle had turned out to be John’s. So many things took precedence over the feelings I still had for John then. This was the reason I didn’t begrudge him for falling in love with Kristen. The situation with Kate was hurtful. As hurtful as any relationship that your husband shares with someone who is not you. But even then, I understood. This situation with Holly I did not, and I would not.

 

I closed my eyes and screamed as loud as I could. A wild yell that came from the pit of my belly. My temples exploded in pain. I gripped the steel bars until my hand felt tight with tension. It was silly but I didn’t know what else to do. In this strange place, John was down the hall and I had run away from the truth he decided to tell me.

 

I did it again; I screamed out.

 

 

This time it fell short of loudness. It was more of a helpless yelp; the cry of a child who knows no other way to talk about pain. What else could I do? I could not just leave him in this hospital and fly back home to my children and the life that belonged to me. Despite what Holly and John had done, it was mine. I couldn’t just walk down these stairs until I reached the street and then find a way back to the cabin. I could not leave him. Oh, I wanted to get as far away from him as I could; but, I couldn’t go.

 

The children would never understand if I abandoned their daddy. Not the older ones anymore than the younger. What was happening between John and I, I couldn’t share with them. I didn’t want to hurt them with the possibility of what this all meant. To leave him here would mean explanations to those little bodies we had created and were responsible to. John’s girls, Belle and Noodle, would never forgive me if I allowed my own pain to outweigh John’s. He had been struck down by a heart attack. I hadn’t admitted it but he did look helpless in that hospital bed with the wires and machines. So much so that I didn’t think it was a good idea for the children to see him that way. I wanted them to only think of him as an indestructible force that protected them. How I felt about him didn’t matter when it came to them.

 

 

I missed them. All of them. I had forced myself not to call any of them. I didn’t want to impose on Belle anymore. There was something in her voice that I couldn’t decipher while I had been in my own state of despair but it was clear that she was hurting. I knew my daughter. And I missed her terribly. I missed her sweetness and the little baby girl who had inherited that same sweetness.

 

I wanted my babies with me. Being away from them, being this isolated made me long for them to be here. At least I could wrap my arms around them and feel the honesty of their unconditional love. I needed to feel that. Being alone made me feel like a lost puppy. Unsettled and searching. My center was shifting as I stood here trying to hold on.

 

I hadn’t allowed myself to feel so vulnerable in a long time.

 

It was something I could not help, not standing in the lonely stairwell avoiding John. I could not walk back to his room now if I wanted to; my pride and anger would not allow it. How could this have happened? How could he do something that would shatter the very thing we painstakingly took so much time to rebuild. There had a been a promise that nothing would tear us apart again. Were we both deceiving ourselves? Had we both grown so accustomed to our lives that we’d began to take them

 

 

for granted? It was possible with my schedule. It was absolutely possible for John and Holly to have developed feelings for each other. I had given them the space to do so. I was away and I depended on them to take care of things until I came back home again. Had I opened the door to whatever happened to them?

 

I didn’t want to know.

 

I didn’t want to think about them.

 

I didn’t want to be around John. Not alone. I couldn’t face him. I wanted my children to be with us.

 

I wanted them now.

 

What would I tell them about John’s heart attack? “Would Dr. Evans please report to the third floor

 

nurse’s station,” a tinny voice sounded over the system. Panic, an old fear almost made the decision for me. I felt myself heading automatically in the direction of his room. I got to the door, standing there with my hand pressed to open it. Because I knew my husband, I knew it wasn’t his heart again. I knew it was him trying to draw me back into his web. He wanted me back in that room so he could explain better. Explain until I seemed accepting of his explanation. I had done the thing that he hated most: I’d left. The system repeated the same message. I turned away from the door and started down the stairs slowly.

 

I kept going until I came to the second door in my

 

 

journey. A sign said that this was the floor that the chapel was on. I pulled the door open and walked until I saw the double doors leading to the chapel. It was empty and dark except for the glow of candles. I sat, collapsed really, in the front pew.

 

It was rare, but sitting there in the solitude of the sanctuary, Stefano Dimera entered my thoughts. That bastard. He’d asked me a question once, playing mind games the way only he could. He had taken the liberty of sitting down in the seat that John had left vacant. We had been at Maggie’s place trying to have a civilized dinner. The crisis about JT being John’s son was fresh and we were still destroying each other with words. John’s patience then was so low that instead of arguing with me, he simply stood and left me there. I hadn’t had time to even react before Stefano slid into John’s empty chair. I was already embarrassed by the scene that John’s leaving had created; I didn’t have the energy to create another one.

 

He started with questions, of course. Questions that were asked for his pleasure and my discomfort. There was plenty that I let slip out of my memory. But there was one thing that Stefano had said that I filed away at the time. It was about John. When he was taunting me about John and Hope’s affair. It was a complex quote. A Machiavellian quote. “A great man cannot be a good man,” Stefano had said with that horrible accent. I

 

 

didn’t let him know it then, but it was provocative enough to be the only thing that now came to my mind about John. Maybe Stefano or Machiavelli was correct.

 

Maybe this was the man that Stefano created. A man who couldn’t stay true to me even if he wanted to. Maybe that was Stefano’s plan from the beginning. Send him into my life, hope that I fell madly in love with him only to watch him destroy me over and over again. I’ve never given Stefano the credit he deserved for John because I thought my love could outweigh whatever that monster did to him. He’d taken his past, made him believe it was a past that he shared with me but who was I married to?

 

Wasn’t the man who made love to me last night, the man who loved me and my children, who gave us a beautiful life and everything we ever wanted the man I had loved all these years? How could he have made love to me last night if this wasn’t true?

 

(Wednesday : am)

 

“In here,” I directed the young man carrying John’s

 

 

things to the room down the hall from the one we had shared two nights ago. I opened the door and switched on the light. It was the smaller of the bedrooms in the cabin. A huge change from the lavish main bedroom. A full bed and night table were its main features. An odd window in the corner of the room opposite the bed gave a slim tunnel of light in the otherwise dim room even with artificial light.

 

Last night, I’d left John sleeping at the hospital and came back to the cabin. I arranged to have the car service bring me back to the secluded woods where I started my night alone nursing one glass of red wine. I had no need for food. I’d drawn a bath and sat watching my tears collect in the soapy water that cooled. I added hot scolding water only after I started shivering. When I felt cried out, drained and far sleepier than I knew, I climbed from the water and dried off. I went to the bed that John and I had made such wonderful love. The thought of it made me sick to my stomach. I was on my feet and then sticking my head over the toilet before I knew. There was nothing to give. I heaved and heaved, straining the muscles in my back with every lurch. I went back to bed after rinsing out my mouth. I could smell him there, smell us there. A headache had starting twisting at my temples. I tossed and turned for hours. On one swift turn John’s phone came into view. It was

 

 

sitting on the dresser across the room. Holly’s cryptic messages were still there. I leapt out of bed with a pillow under my arm. I avoided the other bedrooms; I didn’t want to sleep in any bed alone. I walked downstairs and curled up on the couch. The sun was breaking into the windows when I finally fell asleep.

 

I woke up three hours later when Susan phoned to say that John was being released with a stipulation–the young male nurse who transported him from the hospital. The young man who now stood with John’s bags in the bedroom I wanted John to sleep in while we were here. John was getting settled in downstairs. I had not revealed our new sleeping arrangements to him. After I left his room last night when we exchanged words, when he decided that he didn’t respect me enough to tell me the absolute truth, I’d sat in the hospital chapel and made a few decisions myself; I wouldn’t give him the chance to lie to me again. We had nothing to say to each other; I had nothing to say to him.

 

I was relieved when the hospital arranged for John’s transportation back to the cabin. It meant that I wouldn’t have to go back there and be drawn into the role of concerned wife. I had looked over his charts before leaving last night. He was otherwise healthy. I had knowledge that the doctor and nurses didn’t have. My husband’s secrets had torn his insides apart. That was something he would have to fix himself. No medical

 

 

cures would do so. And I decided he would have to do so himself without my understanding.

 

We had exchanged an awkward greeting as he passed through the door. The burly young man trailing behind John had asked if there was anything that he could do to help John get settled. I pointed out the luggage at the door and then led him up here. It was a convenient excuse to remove myself from John’s presence.

 

“Is there anything else, ma’am?” he asked after placing John’s things at the foot of the bed.

 

“Um,” I looked around the room, “nothing. Thank you.”

 

I hadn’t asked his name. “I’m sorry…”

 

He realized it quickly. “It’s Deon, ma’am.” His handsome brown face smiled.

 

“You dont have to call me ma’am.”

 

“Sorry, my grandmother would kill me if I didn’t,” he

 

said.

 

I smiled. “That’s sweet.” He was the kind of man who I would have loved to have seen Keema with.

 

He started towards the door, “I’m going to check on Mr. Black and then I’ll be out of your way.”

 

“Thank you, Deon.” He left and I walked to my bedroom. In preparing for John’s homecoming, I had pulled the

 

 

linens from the bed and tossed them into the washer. My children would be arriving shortly. There were rooms for them to sleep in but I wanted them here, near me. And I wanted John’s scent out of the bedding.

 

The huge bed was bare now. The pillows lay stacked at the end of the bed. The laundry room was just off the kitchen. I needed to put the bedding in the dryer but I couldn’t force myself to go back downstairs. Not yet. The children’s arrival would alleviate these kinds of moments. Uncertain moments. If I knew anything, I knew that John was good at making me forget myself. Having the children come here was selfish; I knew it and still didn’t think it was a bad idea. I had called my eldest daughter to ask this favor as I rode back the cabin. Rachel was aware of John’s heart attack. She didn’t question my asking her to bring her brothers and sister to me. It’s probably why I chose her. She probably assumed that the children were being sent for to brighten John’s spirits, not mine.

 

We arranged for Rachel to bring Nicky and Noodle on our plane and wait for Noah at the airport. His flight here was harder to arrange. He and Edie were still in Texas. Once I told Edie about John’s heart attack, she agreed to fly with Noah to New York on the first flight out this morning, hand him off to Rachel and then head back to her family reunion tomorrow. I

 

 

wasn’t comfortable allowing him to fly alone to meet Rachel and the other children. Edie felt the same way about Noah. We were overly protective of him. This was a time that I appreciated having another person, besides John who loved and protected Noah the same way that I did.

 

I had managed to do this without John’s awareness. Whatever his feelings or reaction might be would be muted in front of our children. It was close to noon. I expected them to be pulling up to the cabin soon. That meant heading back downstairs to finish up the laundry. I went to the window and looked out. Deon’s car and the jeep were the only ones sitting in the pebbled driveway. Deon could buffer the silence until the children arrived. I passed by the dresser where John’s phone was sitting. I picked it up. Not to check his messages. I had seen enough yesterday. For a man who was never without his phone, he didn’t seem to care where it was. He hadn’t asked for it once even after knowing that I’d seen Holly’s messages there. They were there in black and white.

 

He was standing in the kitchen as I passed through. “There she is,” he announced. Deon was sitting at the table filling out paperwork. “Are you hungry?” John asked without looking up from the stove.

 

 

He was cooking eggs. I crinkled my nose at the pungent smell. “No,” I said, holding my stomach.

 

“Are you feeling okay, ma’am?” Deon asked.

 

I covered my mouth. I nodded, lowering it. “Yes, I think I caught a bug.”

 

John turned his attention to me. “A bug? The nurse mentioned something yesterday. Are you sure?”

 

“I am.” I told him coolly. I was feeling poorly but why wouldn’t I be after the kind of day and night that I’d had. “Don’t worry about me.” I said heading to the laundry room. As soon as I was out of their sight, I covered my mouth and closed my eyes. The smell of the eggs wafting through the house turned my stomach. This bug was strong. A full night’s sleep would have been beneficial but I hadn’t been able to sleep long last night. I did feel like crawling back into bed. Sleeping and turning my brain off, but I couldn’t. My children were coming. I had to get the bedroom back together and prepare myself for whatever John’s reaction might be. Muted or invisible.

 

“Hey.”

 

“John, I’m fine.” I said. He was standing in the doorway. “I’m tired.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Good, then let me finish this.” I pressed my lips

 

 

together tightly. If I stopped letting air into my mouth the sensations to vomit would stop. I turned to the washer and pulled out the bedding. I wanted out of this room, out of John’s sight.

 

“Here,” he reached for the pile. He had opened the

 

dryer.

 

“I can do it.”

 

“Marlena.” His tone was sharp. He grabbed the bedding and started to pack them into the dryer. “So this is how we’re going to deal with this? You’re going to avoid me?”

 

“I’m not avoiding you.”

 

He turned swiftly toward me. “You’re not? You haven’t spoken a full sentence to me since I came home. You’re doing laundry. Come on, Doc…don’t do this.”

 

“I didn’t.” I tried to keep the tremble from my words. I failed. “I didn’t do this. You did.”

 

He considered my words. They were meant to hurt but also inform him. He seemed to be confused about my reaction to what I’d found out. He reached out between the space between us, to touch my cheek. I flinched and backed away. That stung him. He pulled back his arm and dragged his heavy hands down the front of his face. I reached into my pocket and slid his phone

 

 

out. I held it out in the palm of my hand, waiting for him to take it.

 

He shook his head sadly. “Marlena.”

 

“Honey…no, don’t make this something that I’m doing to punish you. This isn’t some conspiracy being manipulated by outside forces. This is all about you.”

 

“Doc.” He reached out again.

 

“Please don’t,” I whispered, remembering that we were not alone.

 

“Ask me.”

 

“Ask you what?”

 

“Ask me what happened.”

 

I lifted his phone closer to him. “I don’t have to ask. I can imagine.”

 

He snatched the phone and sailed it across the room. I jumped at the sound of it hitting the wall behind me and then it falling in defeat to the floor. “Ask me,” he said again.

 

I thought I had done that. I thought my questions in the hospital were enough.

 

“Would you like me to ask you where and when it happened? I’m sure I can picture that. Or did you need me to ask for the concrete details of your sex life with our nanny? I don’t know what you want from me.” I fanned my hands over my

 

 

face. Still nauseous, the walls felt like they were closing in around us. “I can’t do this right now,” I mumbled. I walked blindly forward. He was standing there erect and strong. I couldn’t pass him even if I had wanted to. I stepped back and lowered my hands. He was staring at me. “What?”

 

“You know how much I love you. Don’t do this to us. You know how much I love you,” he repeated, his defiance and anger growing. “You don’t want to ask because you know there isn’t anything or anyone in this life that would replace you in my heart.”

 

“I don’t know that.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t,” I shouted. “And I don’t want to know what happened. I don’t care. I’ve been consumed by it for weeks and you kept telling me that I was wrong. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me.”

 

His grip was quick and strong. My elbows folded into the palms of his squeezing hands. I couldn’t find words. He was silent, too. We stood staring, eyes warring.

 

“Mr. Black, there’s someone at the door,” Deon interrupted us timidly.

 

I was immediately embarrassed. “We’re coming,” I said. “No…” John pressed on, holding me there, “whoever it

 

 

is can wait. You don’t care?” he asked looking into my eyes. “No, they can’t. It’s the children,” I shared as I

 

pulled free.

 

“Our kids? What are…” I had started walking to the door. He shadowed my footsteps all the way to the door. “You sent for them kids?”

 

“John, please,” I said, pulling the door open.

 

“Hi Mama,” Noodle greeted prancing into the door into my opened arms. She wrapped herself around me gently. Her body fit into mine perfectly. I inhaled her. She locked her arms at the small of my back. The way she stayed there absorbing this told me that my little girl had missed me.

 

“Oh, Baby Girl, you feel so good in Mama’s arms.”

 

“I missed you, Mama.”

 

“Good. I missed you too.” I let her go. “Where are the

 

boys?”

 

She tossed her head toward the opened door.

 

“Coming…well Nicky is,” she said, grinning at her father. She went to him and they embraced. He lifted her from the floor and squeezed until she started laughing. “Daddy.”

 

“You didn’t miss your old man,” he was asking her while I headed to the porch.

 

 

“Noodle?” I was confused seeing only Nicky walking toward the house with his and Noodle’s suitcases in his hands. He had climbed out of the dark Lincoln Town Car that had collected them at the airport.

 

Noodle and John came to the door. “Yes?”

 

“Where’s Noah?”

 

Nicky started jogging up the stairs flashing a sweet smile. He dropped the bags at the top of the stairs and came for a hug. I enfolded him into my body.

 

“He’s with Aunt Edie,” Noodle answered over my shoulder. “They’re coming later on, I think.”

 

“Where’s your sister?”

 

“At home,” Nicky told me. “She brought Jules and I to the airport.”

 

“So who flew in with you?”

 

“Holly,” Noodle said naturally.

 

I peered over my son who I was still holding. Holly was emerging from the back of the car, a disarming smile on her face. She waved at us from the distance.

 

“What is she doing here?” John mumbled.

 

I turned to him, “I don’t know.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

The First Cut

 

The current state of things, the awareness that I now owned of this secret painful ‘thing’ that had occurred between Holly and John, my husband, hadn’t deterred her. People react to guilt differently. They carry it in their bodies differently. When I betrayed my marriage vows and my husband, I felt the pull of shame and guilt as wide and deep as an ocean. It was an engulfing vast lure that caused a heavy dose of self-consciousness.

 

Holly had stepped out of the car in what could only be described as arrogance. As though things were still the same between us. Believing that maybe she could face me and then we would embrace in gentle understanding, a female commiseration of genuine friendship thriving with my total forgiveness and

 

 

acceptance. She had been mistaken.

 

Arrayed in all white, airy pants and a slim ribbed tank top, she looked ill-prepared for any confrontation. She obviously hadn’t expected one. She looked majestic, virginal. The way that I remembered her from our first meeting. If only she could still be that person to me and my family. But she wasn’t, she was now this thing, a person who I couldn’t trust. Not her smile, which was insistent; it reached through the distance separating us. Frozen across her lower face as she made her way into the maze of confusion erecting between my husband and myself.

 

She struggled with her overnight shoulder bag through the uneven grassy hill. Tan wedge Espadrilles added to her shakiness. If things were the way they used to be, John would have gone to help her. The gentleman in him would have taken her bag and held her elbow until they were on sturdier ground. He didn’t budge. Not one inch to the right or left.

 

I was restrained by my own fascination. And my

 

children.

 

“This is your problem,” I spoke under my breath for Nicky and Noodle’s sake. “You can handle this.”

 

My children’s innocence was of far greater importance

 

 

than a confrontation. Any child’s was, but most especially Noodle and Nicky’s. There was a small part of me that still carried guilt over the way John and I functioned as parents when they were toddlers. All the back and forth that kept them in the middle of our turmoil. They were probably made stronger but they could not escape the scars of their childhood anymore than Belle or Brady could. I had no interest in investing anymore unnecessary strife on them.

 

All of our children were highly tuned into the workings of our marriage. And they were also sensitive, like John, who presented an image of strength and indestructibility but lived with a tide of overreaching emotions under the surface. Whenever we argued, I was always aware that these little ears were listening and taking in everything that we would say to each other. I was careful even of my body’s reactions because they, especially Noodle, had an ability to decipher a disingenuous hug.

 

Her eyes were the ones trained on her daddy’s face. He’d lifted her to his hip and wrapped her long legs around his stomach. Hairs rose along my arms and neck. They made a beautiful picture. Their dark hair and sun-kissed skin, a combination of genes and fate mapping their faces, told anyone who wondered that they were father and daughter. John reached to

 

 

scruff Nicky’s messy hair. It looked like he’d worked hard to shape it into a hairstyle that hid his eyes. He stood at my side watching Holly’s shaky trek across the yard.

 

“I thought you two wanted to be alone.” Nicky said. “Why did Holly have to bring us here?”

 

I tilted my neck towards Nicky. “I missed you. We both missed you too much.”

 

“That’s all?” Nicky questioned.

 

I nodded, reaching to move Nicky’s hair from his eyes. “You’re going to love the cabin,” I told him. “Let me show you. Get your things.”

 

“Can we water ski?” Nicky asked as he grabbed his and Noodle’s bags.

 

John answered him. “Sure, there are paddle boats and fishing rods.” He lowered Noodle from his hip. “Do me a favor though, give me and Mama one minute alone. You guys go in and look around.”

 

Noodle eyed us circumspectly. Her brother’s attention had been pulled to his phone at an alert. He slid it from his the pocket of his jeans and began texting. Noodle could look through you, past your false intent and words. She settled on my face for a second. Her eyes were demanding. I looked away and caught the intensity of John’s stare. He squinted and gave me a

 

 

sad smile. I shook my head slightly.

 

“Why is Holly standing there?” Noodle looked down on her waiting in the sun. “Isn’t she staying?”

 

“No,” John said brashly. “She’s not.”

 

I grabbed Noodle’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you around. Nicky?”

 

“Yeah, Mom…” he said without looking up from the

 

phone.

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “Yes, Mom. Let’s go.”

 

“Doc,” he raised his eyebrow, grabbing my hand. “I need to talk to you.” He moved closer to the door, blocking us from entering the cabin.

 

“John.” I widened my eyes. Noodle and Nicky’s were following closely. “I’m not doing this,” I mouthed, “in front of them.”

 

He reached up to clench my chin between his fingers. “I don’t know why she’s here.”

 

Noodle raised her hand to John’s chest. Her face painted in confusion. “Daddy?”

 

I covered his hand, steadying a hard gaze on him. “The children,” I warned quietly.

 

 

“I can respect that, but I want you to know…” I shook my head, pressing my fingers to his mouth. His hand fell from my chin.

 

“Just take care of it.” I squeezed Noodle’s hand and rounded Nicky’s shoulder. “Ready?”

 

Nicky walked obediently towards the door. His focus had already slipped into the house before his body, but Noodle, ever vigilant and observant, stayed put. She looked from her father to me, and then down, again, to Holly.

 

“What’s going on?” she asked us.

 

“Nothing,” I lied, kissing her hand. “Come on. Let’s go into the cabin.”

 

She turned to her father. “Daddy?”

 

He kneeled down to her. “Jules, everything is fine.” He smoothed her hair and tilted her chin up. “Trust me, Honey. Go inside with Mommy.”

 

She looked between us once more. “Mama?”

 

“Noodle, trust us. Everything is okay.”

 

She still looked unsure, but she squeezed my hand and started for the house. She allowed her eyes to find Holly before she crossed the doorframe. Once we were inside, she stopped and turned to me. “You’re acting weird. Holly, too.” Nicky had run up the stairs. “Will you tell me why?”

 

 

“Trust Mama when I say that everything will be all right.” I pulled her head to my side and kissed the top of her hair. “Now go with Nicky. Did you bring your suit? I’d love to get into the lake later.”

 

“Yeah…I mean yes,” she corrected lifting her head. We broke apart. “Mama?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Is Holly getting fired?”

 

Her question, those blazing eyes, unnerved me. “What makes you ask that?”

 

“Just cause,” she shrugged.

 

“Did she say something to you or your brother?”

 

“No, she’s acting weird like you but no.”

 

“Noodle,” I covered her cheeks between my hands. “She will no longer be working with our family.”

 

Noodle looked confused. “Really?”

 

“Yes, is that okay with you?”

 

“Sure, but who’s going to do everything that she does?” she asked thoughtfully.

 

The vessels near my heart tightened. “Me…your mother,” I said nearly inaudible.

 

Noodle dragged her bottom lip into her mouth. “What about your book and stuff?”

 

 

“We’ll figure it out.”

 

Noodle shrugged. “If you say so.”

 

“We will. I will…your brothers and sisters, you, are the most important things in my life. You always have been since the day you all were born. Do you know that?”

 

“You like working,” she answered.

 

“I like being your mother, too.” She looked unsure. “Juliana,” I tilted her chin up, “you know that, don’t you?”

 

We were interrupted by Nicky’s shouting downstairs for

 

Noodle.

 

“I love you, Noodle…Juliana.” I needed to assure her. “Very much. Now go, go find your brother.”

 

She accepted another kiss and then scurried off. Because children speak out of their own fears and

 

insecurity, I felt the guilt of my success and absences all the more. Our conversation had pulled me another few miles from my center. I had been gone for two years in fragments, but each moment or day was one that my children had spent without me. Holly had been there. Her presence had became a staple and now I was taking that from them as well. Maybe I should have waited until John and I had a discussion before I had them brought here. Maybe it was too much for all of us. It surely wasn’t their fault that we couldn’t get and then keep it together; as a

 

 

couple, as their parents. But from the moment that John’s betrayal came into my awareness the only thing I knew was that I wanted my children close. They were an absolute assurance that our lives hadn’t been as false as it now felt. They would remove the rock hard anger that tightened my body until it was wringing with pain. Dripping along the floor for everyone to see. My children had always been the only thing that kept me moored to an otherwise dying situation.

 

I sent for them because I needed them. And for them and with them, I would decide what to do next.

 

I didn’t realize how warm it was until I stood there in the living room feeling beads of moisture rolling down my back. After the rainy day and night, the heat and sun had returned. The stifling humidity crowded into the house through the opened front door. I had turned off the central air last night because I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. I had never felt so cold and alone then last night. It was the absence of John, his strong arms holding me as I slept. I had curled up on the couch under a heavy fringed afghan and still couldn’t get warm.

 

Now, the heat, John and Holly outside, the children, all of it were taking their toll. My head become fuzzy, crowded with things I didn’t want to feel or process. I felt dizzy

 

 

enough to have a seat on the couch. My mouth was extremely dry. The headache I thought had gone had found its way back, its pressure a vice around my head. I tossed my head back against the pillow and lifted my feet onto the table in front of me.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Deon asked as he made his way from the kitchen. He was carrying the bag that contained his supplies.

 

I sat up. “It’s the heat.”

 

“And you probably could use something to eat.” “Yes, that’s probably it.” I admitted. “I will. My

 

children are here now,” I said smiling. “That means pizza or burgers. Plenty of fat and grease.”

 

“That’s good. The kids will be good for Mr. Black.” Deon said. “I’m going to get out of the way. Don’t worry about your husband, ma’am. He’s in better shape than I am. I’ll sign off on the paperwork so that he won’t have to see us again.”

 

I watched him speaking, wondering how much of my tattered life he had heard. What opinions he’d formed. “Thank you, Deon.”

 

It was hard not to hear the hushed words between John and Holly teetering over the threshold of the door. Deon’s back faced the door, but it was impossible not to hear. There was a steady stream of exchange and then John’s voice overpowered the

 

 

talk. Deon and I turned at the sound of John’s raised voice over Holly’s.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“I’m sorry,” I lifted my eyes. “I’m all over the place. You can imagine.”

 

“I can,” he agreed. “I was just wanted to say that I’m sorry to have intruded on the conversation that you and your husband were having before. For what it’s worth, I didn’t hear any of it.”

 

I didn’t believe him, but I stood and shook his hand.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” I decided.

 

When I stepped onto the porch with Deon, John and Holly grew as silent as children being chided for bad behavior. They were standing at the bottom of the steep stairs, maybe a footstep between them. Her arms were folded over her chest. Wide sunglasses covered her eyes. John’s met mine. A silent apology passed through them.

 

Deon broke the silence. He told me goodbye and jogged down the stairs. He shook John’s extended hand. Holly took a couple steps back from them. Her eyes were hidden but I knew they were aligned with mine. Her posture was sharp, defiant. We had turned a page. There was no acknowledgment of my presence.

 

 

John had dropped the anvil. I saw it in the way she held herself away from him. Not because I was watching, but because this thing that had gone on between them was no longer just for them. I knew. His wife was now in on the secret.

 

“Mom…” Nicky called out from the second floor. “I’m coming, Honey,” I answered, though I did not

 

move.

 

Deon had gotten into his car and driven down the drive. The car that had brought the children and Holly was still sitting in the driveway. John’s body moved back towards Holly’s. His back was to me but I knew that he was trying to convince her that this was a bad idea, that there wouldn’t be anything that either of them could say to me right now. She wasn’t interested. He raised his voice again, realizing that I was still standing on the porch when Holly told him.

 

He sighed and turned his head to me. I worried for a second about his heart and what could happen because he’d just been released from the hospital. I didn’t want him hurt at all. I didn’t want him back in the hospital, not with the children now here with us. For a moment, I thought about walking down and getting between them. My presence would end the endless words that Holly seemed to have for him. I knew. I could stop this thing, but I couldn’t. This was his mess.

 

 

I turned to go to my son when I heard Holly say something. Not to John. She had lifted her sunglasses and propped them in her hair. She was talking to me.

 

“Excuse me.” I walked back to the top of the stairs where my vision of she and John was clear.

 

“We never meant for any of this to happen.” She said

 

timidly.

 

John moved dangerously close to her. Not in a menacing manner. He simply raised his hand and said, “Holly. Don’t.”

 

“We?” I couldn’t help myself from smiling. “I didn’t realize this was a relationship.”

 

“Marlena.”

 

“No, John…I didn’t know that Holly now spoke for both of you. I didn’t know that this,” I encircled them with my finger in the air, “was something that had a title.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Holly said.

 

“Mama…” This time it was Noodle.

 

“I’m coming Baby,” I shouted into the house. There was something else I wanted to say to the two of them, standing there blanketed in their own shame. I wanted to shame them, but my children were right upstairs and when Holly was on her way I still had to deal with John, not as my husband but the father of my children.

 

 

“Stay away from my family,” I warned her. “That’s it. It’s over.”

 

“I’m sorry,” her voice louder than it had been since she arrived, “but it’s not.”

 

“Holly,” John half-shouted, “stop it. Go.”

 

“Ask him why it’s not over,” she said pitifully.

 

“I don’t need to ask him anything,” I told her, told them both. “I don’t care. I want you to leave now. My children are in there. I don’t want them to hear this.”

 

“Marlena…I’m sorry that this has to hurt you. I never wanted that.”

 

Her explanations were pitiful. “Leave,” I yelled out. John turned, startled by the force of my voice. He

 

picked up Holly’s bag from the ground beside her and mumbled something to her. She didn’t respond or react. Her eyes were planted solely on me. She was intent on having my understanding. I didn’t have that kind of generosity to offer her.

 

“You have to tell her,” Holly said cryptically. She had lowered her arms and encircled her belly. “You have to tell her why it’s not over.”

 

I withdrew myself from them emotionally. “I don’t want to hear it,” I said turning on my heel.

 

“That’s part of the problem,” Holly said. “You walk

 

 

around with blinders on. You’re so sanctimonious. Your husband and I have been together…do you realize that? And you’re standing there like we’re having a disagreement over a high school love triangle. Everything is not perfect. Not in your marriage or mine. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

 

Her words cut deep; they’d stopped my tracks dead. She was no stranger. She had inside knowledge of my marriage that others didn’t. She had been in the middle of the disagreements over the children and my being gone. She did cook and clean for my children. Act like my personal assistant and John’s. She had keys to my house, my cars; and access to my bank accounts. This wasn’t some woman who didn’t have some sort of clarity about my life, even if it was from her distorted point of view.

 

“So, he got you into bed by telling you how much of a failure I’ve been as a wife and mother?” I asked them both. I didn’t want this provocative exchange with her. It was absolutely against everything I believed, but she had displayed the smugness of a happy mistress.

 

“He told you that I wasn’t there for our family or him the way I used to be? Is that what you want to tell me? Because honey, I’ve heard all those things and still it doesn’t justify this.”

 

 

John, who had been standing silently, finally spoke up. “Doc, that’s not…Honey…”

 

“That’s not what happened?” I asked sarcastically. “She didn’t fill in where I lacked?”

 

“We didn’t…” he shook his head angrily, “she didn’t fill in anything.”

 

Holly was taken aback. “I wasn’t some accidental woman, Marlena. I didn’t seduce him.”

 

“I don’t care,” I said. “Leave, just leave.”

 

“I can’t,” Holly crumbled. “I wish it was that easy.” “John?” I wanted him to do something other than stand

 

with the fear of God in his eyes. I’d never seen him so paralyzed. She was monopolizing a power I didn’t think another woman would ever hold over him.

 

“I haven’t told Ben yet,” she wiped her face, “but I will. I’m going to tell him everything. I was telling John that he has to do the same.”

 

“Holly please…” he sounded so defeated.

 

She touched his shoulder. “No, John…you have to tell her. You have to tell her everything.”

 

“I’m so damn tired of this conversation. I don’t care what you do. Either of you. I just don’t care.” I reached the doorframe.

 

 

“Marlena wait,” she said, passing by John as she headed quickly up the steps.

 

“I can’t…”

 

“I’m pregnant, Marlena…” She stood in my face, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry.”

 

Before I had time to let her words, the thought, fully enter my blood, my little girl came walking out of the door with a puzzled face. She looked at her daddy. The man she trusted more than any person in the world, she looked at him with the ache twisting my heart.

 

“Mama, what’s going on?”

 

I pulled her close quickly. “Baby, I don’t know.” She leaned back and I saw that she was crying. “Don’t cry, Love. Come on.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Holly said once more.

 

“Leave now,” I told her. “John, I’ll leave. I’ll take my children and go…”

 

She looked at Noodle and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen this way.”

 

I brushed past her with my daughter shrouded under my arm. The weight of Holly, her confession was shut out when I closed the door. Noodle and I walked in a trance upstairs. Each dissecting what we’d heard. What she had heard was a mystery to

 

 

1. I didn’t have the nerve to ask her. She was too upset to

 

speak so we went into my bedroom and sat on the bed. She fell

 

across my legs, her back trembled in sobs. I stroked her hair

 

and back, rocking her as best as I could. There weren’t words.

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

I Hate You

 

The world was cast into darkness. Only sound and smell could present themselves to my senses. I lay in the coffin of pitch black paralyzed by the harsh grogginess of sleep deprivation. My body had cramped from the awkward angle in which I’d fallen asleep with Noodle. She had cried herself to sleep pressed firmly to my chest. My own body must have given in to its exhaustion after hers tired of reckless sobbing into my lap. I had been unnaturally tired over the last couple of weeks. And sleep would not satisfy this exhaustion, which kept at me like a whining child in need of soothing.

 

I had had one hell of a morning. The headache behind my eyes told that story. The whole thing stayed lit within the frame of my mind. That stinging memory of John’s face scrunched

 

 

in terror as Holly confessed the extent to which they had betrayed me. It had killed her, this confession of being pregnant. Their faces were burned into the patchy spaces between sleep and wakefulness. And then there was Noodle, her little body being undone by what had transpired before her eyes on the porch. She must have been standing in the shadows listening to Holly. She had retreated into silence when I took a hold of her and guided her upstairs, away from the rip in her otherwise charmed childhood. We melded into each other. Drawn together by the uneasy sadness thrusts into our lives like a sharp knife.

 

When I fell asleep or where Noodle was now were a mystery. I skimmed the bare mattress with my hand. The place where she had lain had grown cold. A slow chill rose up my spine. I was there alone, aching and groggy, with unsettling memories. Opening my eyes took effort that the muscles beneath my eyelids lacked. I had a particular need to get up from the bed to find my daughter, but the drag of sadness was an anchor. The thought of John being with Holly, an anchor to this sadness. I squeezed my eyes tighter, until white strikes of thunder flashed in the darkness of my eyelids. I felt anger spurring through my chest, down my arms. Red hot anger that charged my skin to fever. Muscles coiled tightly along my back. This kind of anger wound itself into the veins and vessels circling my

 

 

most vital organs. A killing anger. I remembered John lying in the stark white hospital bed. I did not want the children to see me in the same position. If I lay here allowing it to colloid I would end up where John had been. I couldn’t.

 

I stretched my eyes open fully. Fresh light hugged the room. The sun was still perched high in the sky. I lifted up very slowly from the bed. I pulled my legs over the side resting my bare feet along the cool wooden floor. Noodle’s shoes were turned askew at the side of the bed. I wanted to find her; we needed to talk about what she had heard. In sitting up, pressure rose and started hammering behind my eyes. I pinched my nose to alleviate the pressure. There was no relief. I flattened my palms against the bed in a false attempt to stand. It took more energy than I possessed. I didn’t have the capacity to even shift one leg to the next, to stand and walk. So, I sat and let myself feel the exhaustion. I allowed my body to relax and lay back down along the very edge of the bed.

 

Edie’s southern sweetened sound was unmistakeable. “Marlena,” she tapped cautiously on the doorframe before stepping inside the room. “Are you awake?”

 

She was covered in light blue denim. An ankle-length skirt and chambray button up shirt. A pronounced limp guided her steps across the room, a wobbly clop-step. I’d noticed some time

 

 

ago but didn’t ask where it had come from. I had learned rules that existed in her culture. If it wasn’t openly discussed, one didn’t ask. It was one of the things that we disagreed with when it came to Noah. Her childhood had taught her to speak when spoken to, and to let things go unspoken as a sign of respect. I learned this lesson when she’d stopped dying her hair brown and let the silver overtake its fullness. I thoughtlessly asked her why and it turned our conversation sour that day. She was significantly older than me, wiser but also unchangeable. She told me in no uncertain terms that it was sometimes polite to let things be as they were, without all the questioning. I had cleared the air by smiling and telling her that my job would never allow me to be that kind of person. We could respect each other, our differences because we had genuinely grown to love each other. Our relationship had grown comfortably with her relationship with Noah. At times, she was the caring elder whose arms made everything feel less tumultuous.

 

“I am,” I answered, feeling the comfort of her presence deep in my bones. I moved to sit up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest to wrap my arms around them. “I didn’t know that you had gotten in. Where’s Noah?”

 

Her searching brown eyes took hold of mine. Without words, she leaned down and took my face between her thick palms.

 

 

What I looked like to her I could only guess. She held my head high, smiling thinly as she pressed her full lips into the center of my forehead. The threat of tears burned my throat. I swallowed hard, exhausted with the ease that they came now.

 

I unwrapped my arms from my knees and circled them around her waist. I pillowed my head against her ample breasts and belly. She had gained some weight over the years. Noah and I worried about it because she had also been diagnosed with diabetes. I had to teach him to be aware of her condition for the times when they were alone together in case he ever needed to make a medical decision to call . Edie called it ‘fussing over nothing’ but after Noah saw her injecting insulin into her body the first time there was no way not to explain what it all meant. His Godmommy was one of the most important people in his life. She had been since his birth, and after his mother’s death she understood that Noah would need someone like her, like Edie, to help Noah maintain some parts of his culture. Edie and I agreed that John and I could raise him without sharing the same color skin, but Edie also believed that the world would eventually intrude with it’s harshness and that she would help cushion him from it when it happened.

 

“You were asleep when we came,” she answered rubbing my back. “I told John to let you sleep. He said you needed rest.

 

 

You look like you need a little more.”

 

I pulled back slowly from Edie. “I’ll be fine. It’s been one of those days.” I lifted my eyes skyward and shook my head.

 

“You look like the devil’s been doing his due on you, Love.” She sat down beside me. “This business with your honey’s health is doing a number on you? He looks good though. He’s down there playing with the babies. They’re climbing all over him, monkeying around. Seems in better spirits.” She took my hand and smoothed her fingers over my knuckles. “Tell me.”

 

I lowered my eyes to the floor. It was polished to the point of seeing yourself reflected back. I trusted Edie Charles as much as I trusted my own mother. I trusted her with my child, but I also trusted her with my life. But my pain, that was something different.

 

“It’s just been one hell of a day, Edie.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know, M.” She tightened the grasp on my hand. “It’s John?”

 

“No, it’s…” I couldn’t lie to her. There was no reason to do so. “Some things I need to think about before I can talk about them. Okay?”

 

Her lips parted revealing her jagged bottom row of teeth. “Of course, I understand that.”

 

 

“Thanks.” I lay my head on her shoulder. “Hmm, you smell good.” Her favorite perfume White Diamonds cloaked her clothing and skin.

 

“I made hamburgers and baked sweet potatoes. You can thank Noah. There’s some left downstairs. You up to a bite?”

 

The thought of seeing John turned my stomach as much as the thought of putting anything on my belly. For the man I had loved and told every thought I ever had, I now didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how to ignore the sting of what I’d heard. I couldn’t fathom the thought that another woman, Holly, was carrying my husband’s child in her body. The thought of it made my skin crawl. I shivered against Edie. She drew her arm around my back.

 

“Hey, are you sure everything is okay with John?”

 

“John’s fine.” I answered coolly. “You said it

 

yourself,” I softened my voice. “He just has to take it easy.”

 

“Good. He wanted me to check on you.”

 

I straightened my back. “I’m fine. You can tell him.” “And that little wild child Noah? What should I tell

 

him? He’s been itching to get himself up here since we came.” “Oh, my baby boy.” He made me smile. “How was he in

 

Texas?”

 

“You know he does well with me. He missed you though.

 

 

I didn’t tell him about his daddy’s heart attack. I thought you and John better handle that.”

 

“Yeah, I haven’t told the younger children why they’re here yet.”

 

Edie looked evenly at me. “Do you know?”

 

I shrugged. “I just wanted them all close to me,” I bit my lip and squeezed her arm. “I missed them. I’m away from them too much.”

 

“You’re doing what any mama does. You’re working and taking care of your own spirit so that you can take care of theirs. They understand that. Noah might be a little spoiled by you and his daddy, but he understands that.”

 

“Thank you.” It really did make me feel a little better, Edie’s opinion. “I think I’ll take a shower before I come down.”

 

“I’ll keep them out of your hair then. They were talking about a swim in that dirty water.” She made a face. “We can wait for you. We both know I’m not going in that water.”

 

I laughed. “Yes, I told Nicky and Noodle we’d do that. Tell them I’ll be down soon.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Edie and I stood together and she patted my face. I walked her to the door and watched her disappear down the hall.

 

 

I could hear my children downstairs. The familiar composition of the three of them speaking above their normal range crept up the hall. It sounded like a game was directing their conversation. A board game that their father was playing as well. His voice lifted and spread over theirs. Noah’s giggle erupted at whatever John was doing. I could see that sweet brown face watching his daddy with an idol’s shine in my mind. I heard Noodle join in with her brother’s laughter. I wondered what had happened between she and her daddy while I slept. Had he been able to convince her that what she’d heard was not only unquestionably false, but that she hadn’t heard what she thought she might have. Whatever happened, the relationship between father and daughter seemed intact. It made me feel a little better. This thing didn’t have to tear us all apart.

 

The shower removed some of the grit from this morning, but did nothing to loosen the tight muscles in my shoulders. I stepped from the shower and grabbed the yellow towel that I’d folded over the rack. I walked over to the sink with water sliding down my body. The mirror was steamed over. I ran my hand up and down the dewy surface until my reflection appeared. Standing nude, I took a long look at my freckled body. Things

 

 

had shifted.

 

I saw myself through the eyes of a woman like Holly who was younger, firmer than me. I touched my cheek, sliding my fingers down my neck. My skin wasn’t as tight and fresh as it once was. I’d never liked the brown spots mapping my body in odd combinations and patterns. John did. He could make a game of connecting the dots for hours that usually ended with lovemaking. Now they felt like an imperfection. I started drying off slowly, my legs, my arms, my back. When the soft yellow touched my breasts, they tingled and ached. I lowered the towel and looked at them in the mirror. They were uneven; they felt heavier. The skin circling my nipples looked darker than usual. I gently prodded at the skin there. I flinched at my own touch, surprising myself.

 

The towel slipped from my hands. My eyes and then hands fell to my belly. There was a small swell under the mountain of breasts. I closed and opened my eyes slowly. It was undetectable if one wasn’t paying attention, but knowing my body as I did, it was a change that didn’t make sense. I shook encroaching thoughts away, picked the towel up and continued drying off.

 

More self-conscious than ever, I cursed myself for bringing the red bikini sitting on the bathroom counter. I had

 

 

no other option other than telling the children that I couldn’t go swimming with them. That wasn’t an option. I wanted to do anything they wanted to. I would keep all of our minds off of what was going on. I grabbed the top and poured my breasts into the cups, tying the string at my neck and back securely. The red material barely covered the portions of my breasts. I adjusted them in the cups as best I could. The bottoms fit like a glove across my lower regions. I touched my belly again, shook the thought–the picture of a baby in my arms–away and hung the damp towel back across the rack.

 

I walked back into the bedroom. Someone had thankfully brought the linen and made the bed while I was in the shower. A cup of steaming tea sat on the nightstand. It was Edie. The neatness and fluffed pillows spoke of her maternal touch. I went and lifted the warm mug to my lips. It smelled wonderful. Chamomile and almond milk. I sipped slowly. It was exactly what I needed. I had no food on my belly. The warm liquid seemed to tame the convulsions that arose whenever I allowed anything to enter my mouth. I set the cup back down and walked over to the dresser that held the clothes I’d placed there last night. I pulled open a drawer and searched through the couple of items that lay unfolded. I was looking for the denim shorts that I always wore with this bikini. They were aged, falling apart at

 

 

the seams. I think they pre-dated even Belle. They were there under the other tiny bits of clothing. I pulled them out and sat down on the end of the bed to slide them up my legs. They were a little tighter than usual when I stood and snapped the front button.

 

The denim suffocated my skin. The front button pushed against my lower belly. I unsnapped them, cupping my stomach. There was no way. I was imagining this weight, the swell there. The restrictive bikini bottoms were stretched across my skin. There was no way that I could be anything other than retaining water. The headache had to be a symptom of all the stress I’d been through over the last couple of hours. The nausea was obviously a bug that wouldn’t give up. I wasn’t pregnant. I was on birth control. John and I barely had time to make love, except these last couple of weeks. This was an emotional reaction to John and Holly that was manifesting as something else. Nothing more.

 

“Doc?”

 

My hand froze over my belly at the sound of my name. I stood erect, like a stone statue, with my back facing him. The electric current that circled the room was immediate. Goosebumps tracked up the surface of my arms. I lowered my eyelids and took a deep breath. If I were standing here completely naked, I could

 

 

not have felt anymore vulnerable.

 

“Doc?”

 

“I’m not ready to talk to you,” I told him quietly. “Well honey…” his voice faltered unnaturally “…I

 

don’t accept that.”

 

“Unfortunately, what’s accepted and allowed are completely at odds here. I can’t talk to you right now.”

 

He allowed silence to ease between us. I heard him breathing. He was deciding if he could bend to my needs and allow me to have time to think about what was happening. He had shown unusual patience in giving me this much time to myself. I wasn’t ready for this. We weren’t.

 

He took a deep breath. “You believe her?” Pain marked his words. “You believe that I would hurt you in that way?”

 

This forced my eyes open. I whirled around to face him. His eyes were on the floor. “I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do,” I said, carelessly. The twenty plus years that we’d shared, the children, the life, our home, all of the things that we shared didn’t feel apart of this exchange.

 

His eyes darkened as they rose to my face. “I wouldn’t do that.” They looked haunted by the past. Or the present. “After JT, you have to know I would never do something like that.”

 

 

“Why do you keep framing it in that way…something like that or in that way?” The psychiatrist couldn’t let his constant denial rests. “You didn’t impregnate her but you slept with her?”

 

He didn’t flinch. “If she’s pregnant, it’s not my

 

child.”

 

My hands flew up. “If she’s pregnant, it’s not your child,” I spat out. “The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach. You did this, didn’t you? You’ve been with her. Why else would she do this? It’s not as though it can’t be proven. Why would she lie about a baby?”

 

“I don’t know…” he hesitated.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

He lowered his eyes. “I don’t.”

 

“If you know, then tell me or I swear I’ll take the children and…”

 

He took a few steps into the room, stopping short of being face to face. “And what?” His jaw tensed, knuckles flexed as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’ll take my children and leave me?”

 

I didn’t know if I meant that, but it was out there now. I couldn’t take it back. “Tell me.”

 

“Is it that easy for you to walk away from me?” He

 

 

asked almost child-like. “One lie from a troubled woman and you’re ready to take flight. To take my children and run?”

 

“John…”

 

“No, I want to know if it’s that easy for you to walk away from me. You know how much I love you. You know what we’ve both sacrificed to be together. And you know me.” His hand pounded his chest. “You know me.”

 

I shook my head sadly. “I don’t.”

 

“You do,” he said, coming closer. “You know exactly who you married.” He was standing extremely close to my face.

 

“Were you there today? Did you hear her say that she’s carrying your child? Did I imagine that happening?”

 

“She’s…Doc,” he reached up to touch my face. “She’s troubled.”

 

I pushed his hand away. “Is she?”

 

“If she thinks that she’s having my baby then she is. It’s impossible.”

 

“Because you used something?”

 

He pressed two fingers over my lips. “Stop it.”

 

I took a step back. “Is that why it’s impossible? Because you were smart enough to use something when you were having sex with someone that isn’t your wife?”

 

“Because I was smart enough to not have sex with

 

 

someone who isn’t my wife.” He leaned and grabbed my face, hard. “Look at me.”

 

“No,” I tried twisting out of his stronghold. He would always be stronger than me. “Don’t do that.”

 

He relented and dropped his hand. “She’s not pregnant with my child.”

 

“Then why is she doing this?”

 

“Because she thinks that she’s in love with me,” he blurted out.

 

“Why?”

 

“She took my kindness for something that it wasn’t. I mean, Doc, she basically lived in our house for two years. She’s all mixed up about her marriage. She wants what we have. She wants to be you.”

 

“No, she doesn’t.”

 

“It’s true. She wants what you have. It has nothing to do with what did or didn’t happen between her and I.”

 

“Something happened,” I said, looking into his eyes. “She’s not inventing something.”

 

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

 

“Then what did you do?”

 

“I didn’t do anything.”

 

“John?”

 

 

“I didn’t…she…”

 

“Tell me.”

 

He didn’t hesitate. It was was all right in the open. He couldn’t hide from it any longer. “We had an argument. You and I…about Noah or Jules, I don’t remember really. I mean we had been arguing a lot over the kids. It was all because we missed each other. I missed having you with us. So, I’d get into my ego and pick arguments with you because I was pissed at you. That night, I had maybe three drinks. I was sitting in the office at home and she knocked on the door. She’d heard us arguing.”

 

I was getting nauseous. Closing my eyes brought his hands to my face again. He squeezed until they opened. I didn’t know if I could take whatever he was going to say. “I don’t want to hear this.”

 

“Doc, listen…I want to tell you. I didn’t know then, but she was listening to our conversations. That night, she wanted to talk like we usually did. It was an innocent conversation that changed too quickly. One minute I was telling her how much I loved and missed you…and the next she was on her knees in front of me. And then her mouth was on me and I was so drunk or numb that I let it go too far. I let her…”

 

“…You’re disgusting. Let go of me. Now.”

 

 

“Doc, no…that was it. There was no sex.” “There was no sex?” I yelled. “What do you think

 

having another woman’s mouth wrapped around your penis is? That’s not sex? Who are you? Bill Clinton? You allowed another woman to have you inside her. I don’t give a damn if it were only her mouth. And I don’t know if I believe that. She’s in love with you because she gave you oral sex? What am I? An idiot. Is that believable to anyone except for you?”

 

“Doc, take it easy.”

 

“You take it easy,” I shrugged him away, shoving roughly against his chest. “What is wrong with you? How could you let that happen? Were my children home? Were they?”

 

He nodded.

 

“You bastard,” I crossed his cheek with my open hand. The sting left my palm aching. “You’re disgusting. You were upset with me. I was away. I mean, this is such typical male bullshit. I don’t care if I was in Siberia for three years, you are married to me. You are committed to me. You don’t do that to someone you love. And you don’t do that with my fucking children in the house. What if they had come in? What if they saw you?”

 

“Doc.”

 

“That’s it. That’s all you have to say. Doc? Doc?” I crossed his face again. “I hope it was worth it. I hope your

 

 

blow job was worth our family.” I attempted to retreat, leaving him there, but he grabbed my wrist and wrested me back.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“I’m done,” I said crumbling.

 

“No, you don’t get to make that decision. You’re not done. I’m not going to let you walk out of here. I’m not losing you or my kids.”

 

“Take your hands off of me,” I said calmly.

 

“No.”

 

“I can’t do this with you anymore. I don’t know…what am I fighting for? What do we have if you could do this to us? I don’t know…I don’t know.”

 

“I know. I love you.”

 

“Well I hate you. And I hate myself for trusting you,” I cried, pummeling his chest with my closed fist. “I hate what you did to us.”

 

“You don’t hate me,” he said, broken. “You don’t.” “I do.” I told him without regret. “I hate you.” He grabbed my face again. “Don’t say that to me.” “Stop it.” A river of tears rolled down my cheeks. I

 

pulled away only to be snatched back into his grasp. “John, please let me go.”

 

“I’ll never let you go,” he told me, closing his mouth

 

 

over mine.

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

We’re Not Making Love

 

She was closer than a layer of skin, pressed against me trying to control her spurts of breaths as her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her freckled skin was pink and fragrant from her shower. Cherry blossom soap. I took liberal whiffs of her tear-soaked cheeks. She had given up trying to pull away, and finally let her hands fall to her sides. I had a solid hold of her neck between the palms of my hands. She denied the intimacy of those blazing hazel eyes staring back into mine. Her eyelids were lowered. Lashes, darkened by tears, lay against her cheek.

 

Her soft lips held firmly together. This thing, our love, was such that she would let me kiss her, sad and hurt as she was. It wasn’t something that she or I could help, that distracting attraction that tied us into knots. Our relationship

 

 

had gone to hell and back more than once, but never had she been able to deny herself that we were magnetically attracted to each other. I mashed my lips with her reluctant pout. She had wilted into herself.

 

I tried parting her lips. They tensed and she came to life. “Stop…” She slanted her forehead to mine, stealing her mouth from the desperation of the one-sided kiss. Her breath was minty and warm. She had opened her eyes. The tears continued. They leaked from the corners of her eyes neatly down her cheeks.

 

“Please don’t do that…” Her plead was strangled with undue guilt. Even now denying me tore her apart. “Don’t make me have to tell you no. Don’t make me do that to you.” Glossy hazel eyes met mine. She took one step back covering my lips with her slender fingers. Her lips seemed to move without sound. “I’m not going to make love to you.” She covered my hands and lowered them from her neck.

 

“Baby?” I could grab her again, force her into my arms and change her mind. This was ‘us’. Her vulnerability always caused this innate reaction. Our history was storied with moments as confusing as this. Instantaneously, without fail, blood raced to the parts of my body desperate for contact with hers.

 

She was tormenting herself, trying her damnedest to

 

 

keep herself from me, from my touch, from any possibility of allowing herself to falter to my will. In that red bikini. It wasn’t the bikini so much as the woman poured into the stingy red material. Her freckled skin being displayed; the places usually hidden behind conservative clothes, and the not so hidden were earmarked by the fading bruises that my mouth had caused days ago.

 

I couldn’t not touch her. “Doc.” She flinched as I traced the hickies on her collarbone. Our eyes were locked, calculating the exact amount of convincing she would allow.

 

“Don’t,” she said stopping my fingers. “And don’t watch me in that way.” She turned around quickly. She yanked open a drawer in the dresser and came up with a shirt. “It’s not going to happen.” She fumbled with the nearly see-through shirt sliding her arms through the short sleeves. “What are you thinking?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest.

 

I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting–to her body, to her anger. “You’re glowing,” I told her.

 

She was. Her skin radiated with some inner light. She looked polished and pure. Her hair had sprung into loose curls from her shower. A thin headband held the curls away from her face. Without makeup, she and Belle could pass for sisters.

 

“I’m not,” she answered quickly. She lowered her arms

 

 

to cross over her slightly exposed stomach. “It’s…stop it…”

 

she pulled together the panels of her shirt. “I need a

 

minute…can you leave me alone for a minute?” She bit into her

 

lip as she tightened the hug she was giving herself.

 

I shook my head slowly. “I can’t.”

 

She sighed. “John.”

 

“I can’t. If I go, I don’t think we’ll ever be the same again.”

 

“We’re not,” she started crying softly,”…we are not the same.” Each word was emphasized with a widening of her eyes. “And I have no idea how to make this right. I don’t know how you expect me to be the same after you betrayed us.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s like my skin doesn’t belong to me anymore. You’re so much a part of me, how could you have been with another woman?” She fanned her hands across her face. The sound coming from her tightened the muscles surrounding my heart.

 

“Doc…” I went to her and wrapped her into my arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for this.” She let herself relax against my chest. Her head lay across my shoulder. Tears burned at my throat and misted over my eyes.

 

“This doesn’t feel like my life anymore.” She sounded hollow. “Our babies…”

 

 

“Doc, I’m sorry. Please.” I held her tighter.

 

“…Why did you do this?” She pealed herself from my chest, sobbing into her hands as she moved away. She stared hard into my eyes backing away until her back hit the wall. “Why?” she half-cried, half-shouted.

 

“I don’t know, baby. It just happened.” “Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you?” “I’ve hurt you,” I told her weakly.

 

She shook her head roughly. “You’ve destroyed me,” she

 

cried.

 

“You think that’s what I wanted? I don’t know how this happened. I just…”

 

She gasped sharply. “You what? You just what?”

 

“I don’t know. What do you want me to say to you? I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” she muttered. “You did this. You’ve been destroyed by less than this, remember? You treated me like shit for two years when you thought I had an affair with my shrink when it was the least thing from the truth. You did that John.” She shouted freely. “You walked out on our lives with our children because you were hurt. You gave up. You left us. When I was pregnant…” her voice broke and she stopped for air.

 

 

“It’s not the same. And you know that even when I was away from you how much I loved and wanted you back. You know that.”

 

“It was a kiss…it was absolutely wrong but it was just a kiss.”

 

“Don’t tell me that. It wasn’t just a kiss. This man wanted you and he didn’t give a damn that you had a family with me. He inserted himself into our lives and you gave him the space to do it.”

 

“Exactly,” she raised her voice again. “And if you think that all you have to do is make love to me and tell me I’m beautiful, how sorry you are, that that’s enough then you’re a bigger fool than I ever was for Dr. Shalit.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

She scrubbed her face with one hand. “Get out.”

 

“Marlena?”

 

“Get out,” she yelled. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. The whole thing makes me sick. I can’t. Just go. Get out.”

 

“And go where? Huh? Leave you and my babies here while you make decisions about our life without me? I can’t do it. You know me. You know I can’t do that. I love you.”

 

She grabbed her head in frustration. “John, leave me

 

 

alone.”

 

I reached out. “Doc, please.” She pushed me away. “I can’t handle this right now. It’s too much.” She

 

lowered her hands and looked earnestly into my eyes. “Maybe I should take the children to my parents for a little while. It’ll give me time to think and…”

 

“And give you time away from me.” I heard the panic in my own voice. “Haven’t we had enough space between us?”

 

“You don’t get to ask me that. You don’t get to decide what I do from here on. You don’t, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m still your husband.” It was taking an army of self-control not to break the distance between us.

 

“You were also my husband when Holly was sucking

 

your…”

 

I stepped closer. “Doc, don’t do that.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry…you want me to be pristine about this, about your girlfriend, um how do you want me to phrase this?”

 

“Stop it, she’s not my girlfriend.”

 

“No, because she wants to be much more than that. The mother of your child, or me, apparently. John, please leave me alone. I’m tired now. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

 

“She’s not the mother of my child. You are the only

 

 

mother of my children. You…so don’t do that petty bullshit. I’m telling you that there is no way that the child is mine. I wouldn’t deny my flesh and blood. You at least know that. All the other stuff we’ll deal with but tell me that you know that I would never have impregnated another woman.”

 

She inhaled deeply. “…What about me? What would we do if you impregnated me?” she whispered. Her eyes were on the ground. “What if at the worst possible time we created another life?” She paused and looked back up. “What would we do then?”

 

I was close enough to touch her. I didn’t. Instead, I let my eyes travel down her entire body. “Doc?”

 

She was crying again. “I don’t know if it’s true, but it feels true. Something about this conversation is making things so clear and also cloudy.” Her voice was manic, distorted. “I mean, it’s impossible, isn’t it? It’s…it’s so outrageous. I’ve been on birth control…but it’s not fail proof. But I don’t know if I feel this way because of what’s going on.” She looked stone cold into my eyes, “The possibility that another woman is carrying your baby. If I’m borrowing some insane scenario of being pregnant. At this age, at this time. It’s insane but what if it’s true?”

 

“Honey, what are saying?”

 

“John, I have been feeling a little off. Constant

 

 

nausea and headaches…all the things that usually tell me I’m pregnant. But, how could that be? I don’t know. I was standing in the mirror and…I feel like I’m going crazy.”

 

“You’re pregnant?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

 

“But you could be?”

 

“So many things are telling me that it’s possible, but what’s going between us now…”

 

I found courage to grab her face lightly. She looked like she was drowning. Without the life jacket. I heard the words she hadn’t said. I knew what she wanted to say but didn’t have the courage to say. Not to me. “You’re saying you wouldn’t want to be?”

 

She lowered her head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m having this conversation without having thought it through in my own head.”

 

I spoke to the top of her head. “It seemed like you were saying you wouldn’t be happy about a baby.”

 

“I wouldn’t be,” she said without hesitation.

 

That confirmation bulleted through my stomach.

 

“Marlena.”

 

“John, let’s not argue over a pregnancy that might be my imagination.”

 

 

“Imagination or not, you wouldn’t be open to another

 

child?”

 

“Are seriously asking me this right now? Have you taken leave of your senses? I don’t even know if I can go back to my own home and live with you as your wife. A child? A baby?”

 

“Our baby not just a baby…and haven’t we done the cut and run thing enough?”

 

“I’m not going to…”

 

I forced her to look up. She brought her lips together and stiffened into her full height against the wall. If she wanted to get beyond me it would take her full strength, but she didn’t try. She stood tall and defiant, her posture perfected. We matched eyes. Hers had the red tint of endless tears consumed with fear. She breathed in short tufts of air, nostrils flared. When my hand rose, she flinched, but didn’t stop my opening the panels of her shirt.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked, as I shaped my hands over her belly. “John…” It was odd but I hadn’t noticed that her stomach was different. Rounder, fleshier. I smoothed my hands over her warm skin. What if my baby was in there growing?

 

“Don’t leave me,” I said, feeling the mountain of what we’d been arguing about in this bedroom at my back. I crouched down slowly in front of her and lay my head on her exposed

 

 

belly. “Please, don’t.”

 

“John…”

 

“I messed up…I did but please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you and the kids. I can’t.” I felt her fingers in my hair, the other on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right for you. I will. And this baby…I mean, think about that. A new baby? What if we are pregnant? Let’s figure this out together.”

 

“John, you’ve hurt me so badly.”

 

“Baby, I know that.”

 

“I don’t know how we can go on.”

 

“We have no choice.”

 

“There’s so much that needs to be worked out.”

 

“I want to work it out.”

 

“John, I don’t know if I can have a baby again…I also don’t know if can go back to life as usual. I need time.”

 

“Honey…”

 

Our son entered the bedroom like a hurricane. As usual, he went right for Marlena.

 

“Mama, I’ve been waiting for you.” Noah moved between us breaking us apart.

 

I stood up immediately, rubbing my face clear of all signs of tears. His mother did the same. Noah didn’t notice

 

 

either way. He was so excited to see his mother that everything else disappeared.

 

“Baby boy,” she cleared her throat and lifted Noah into her arms for a hug. She grunted at his weight but didn’t deny him the embrace that he was accustomed to from her. “Oh my, have you gotten bigger since I saw you last? I missed you so much.” They folded together.

 

He smiled into her cheek looking at me from his perch. “I know. I missed you even though I didn’t call a lot.”

 

“I know. You did so well with that.” She looked over our boy’s shoulder towards me. “Daddy missed you too,” she added, putting Noah down.

 

“I know. He told me downstairs.”

 

She patted his cheek. “Good.”

 

His eyes circled between us. “What are we doing up

 

here?”

 

“Nothing, kid,” I tapped his head.

 

“Are we swimming?” he asked, looking at Marlena. “Yes,” she smiled. “I was heading down to take you and

 

the others out onto the water.”

 

Noah stood in front of his mother and tilted his head back. “Mama, you okay? Your eyes look red.”

 

“Allergies,” she said quickly, rubbing her face.

 

 

“Let’s go.”

 

“We’ll finish this later?” I asked, watching as she

 

and Noah disappeared into the hallway.

 

She didn’t answer.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

You Welcome Ghosts Home

 

Massive hemorrhages are inner wounds that kill in silence.

 

I learned this completing my OBGYN medical rotation. It was then that I watched a girl die who was not much older than myself after giving birth to a fiery-skinned little boy. She had been so alive, so ridiculously happy about bringing her little boy into the world only to hemorrhage on the table.

 

I cannot say why that moment came to me sitting on the wooden bridge overlooking the endless murky lake below the cabin. Something about the silent way she’d floated from joy to undetectable pain felt very real. It was a concept that I could name and touch because I felt as though my heart was hemorrhaging. A deep, growing wound that increased with each minute.

 

 

A civil war raged between my heart and mind within a silence that was holding my sanity afloat.

 

Edie was a perfect companion. She sat in the seat at my side in her own quietude. And because I was a magnificent hider-of-pain and champion at sparing the world my feelings, she busied herself with a glass of sweet tea and keeping her steely brown eyes on the children playing down below us in the sand.

 

They were the reason I was acutely aware of not showing them how unsure I was that next week we, as a family, would be back in our home living as though this day hadn’t happened.

 

Under the harshest heat of the sun, the three of them were reminders of the good things in my marriage as they sat watching their father.

 

He stood shirtless like a chiseled Greek god whose divinity was restored by sun’s energy. They had brought down the kayak and paddle boat from the shed behind the cabin. He was going to take them across the lake. Nicky, with his father’s approval, had decided that he was able to take the kayak out alone while John would paddle Noodle and Noah in the safer boat. Nicky’s decision tempted the limits I normally liked to set for

 

 

him, but his father believed in him. Even if he was a horrible husband, he rarely made bad decisions when it came to our children. John wanted Nicholas to trust himself and as his mother, I trusted John to know our son.

 

He was teaching them water safety. It was more than likely for my benefit but he had Nicky’s total attention. He watched closely as John moved his body into paddling positions. He’d taken a few laps in the water already. His damp hair glistened in the sun. He had already browned from the short time they had spent outside.

 

John’s skin wasn’t spared. The coiled dark and subtle gray hairs covered some of his tan but the span of his shoulders had turned already. He didn’t look like a man who had spent time in the hospital recently. The light that had dimmed was now bold as ever. Our children did that for him.

 

Being around the babies always made him seem younger. Seem stronger. John Black’s weaknesses as a man were not indicative of his strengths as a father. He was able to cast a spell effortlessly. I knew a lot about that kind of magic. He could make you feel as though you were the only and most important person in the world.

 

And that felt very real, even with some doubts, it felt real.

 

 

I had watched Nicky be yoked into his daddy’s magic his entire life. John was his protector. He had protected Nicky from me when I was too sick to know better, and then protected him from himself when we were separated. And when Noodle needed his reassurance after Noah joined our family, he somehow made that all right for her, too. He was magnificent in this uncompromising fatherhood I had gifted him. And he would be with another child. I knew that better than he did. John could offer another baby as much love and attention as he was with the three children who we had yet to fully raise. He wanted that. He had said so many times over the years.

 

Time just hadn’t been kind to our life together. If I had met him when I was a young girl, we might have had ten children by now but that wasn’t my life. I was past the age of being able to just have children without thinking of all the things that entailed. Without the mess of our lives, I had the children I wanted. And I selfishly couldn’t imagine having anymore.

 

As though she were listening to the running tape in my head, Edie leaned over the arm of the chair holding her weight to say, “Whatever he is or isn’t, Love…John Black is a good daddy. Look at those children’s faces.”

 

My eyes had never strayed from them. Nicky’s attention

 

 

never wavered from John but Noah and Noodle were less attentive. Noodle’s body curved into a perfect C as she stuck a broken small branch into sand. Her red striped bathing suit clung to her small frame, her tiny back and bottom. With her hair piled into a messy bun atop her head, the golden skin of her neck became visible. Gold hoops that her Daddy gave both of us for Christmas decorated her earlobes. She was entertaining Noah’s attention. He added the rocks that she’d dug out of the sand into his light blue bucket. They worked in tandem, peacefully.

 

There were times that they didn’t. There were days when Noodle had no patience for Noah and days when he had none for her. These were the days that my heart loved. They were sitting close together, heads bent near each other as they worked. John, their savior daddy was going to be in the boat with them. His safety lessons had no bearing on their trip. Daddy was powerful and strong. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to them on the water. They didn’t have it in their minds that he was as human as they were.

 

“He always has been.” I admitted. This was the man who raised my children when I wasn’t able to. And also the man who called a daughter who was neither of ours his baby girl. I loved him. I could barely stand to look at him, but I did love him.

 

“He was blessed with a heart for children. Look at

 

 

Nicholas, he’s completely enraptured by his daddy.”

 

“I know. I’ve watched him with Noah over these years. A boy isn’t worth anything less than the wholeness of his daddy.” Edie’s eyes sought her godchild. “Noah is going to be one hell of a man.”

 

Her opinion was so important. “I hope so.”

 

“Trust me, M. He will. He’s so much like you two…you can’t even see it, can you?”

 

I looked down at Noah. He had dragged his sister closer to the water. She was helping him rinse off his rocks. “I see it…I see John all over him.”

 

Edie laughed. “You’re missing you. He has your compassion and that curiosity. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s very much his daddy’s boy. That fearlessness doesn’t come from anywhere other than that man down there.”

 

She leaned back into her chair. A floppy straw hat protected her face from the sun. She was covered from head to toe to avoid any direct contact. She lifted her ice tea to her mouth for a sip.

 

“I sent him up there earlier,” she said after quenching her thirst, and without preamble. “It was getting heated.” Edie adjusted her hat on her head. “I’ve never heard you two go at each other like that.”

 

 

I felt my cheeks heat. “Did they hear?” I asked

 

softly.

 

“Not anything directly,” she said.

 

It was bad enough that Edie had been subjected to our argument. It would have killed me if I thought that our children had had to hear the things that we discussed. I wanted to protect them from this as long as I could.

 

“I kept them busy with eating and talking. They didn’t hear.” She said as reassurance.

 

Still bothered, I asked, “Did Juliana mention anything about John and Holly?” She had been the one who came to the porch during the awful confrontation between Holly, John, and myself. I was absolutely terrified to ask Noodle.

 

Edie lifted the lid of her hat after turning to me. “No…but what would she mention?” After an unanswered minute, she reached across the chair. Her thick fingers circled my arm. “Oh…oh not that.”

 

She dug the tips of her fingers to my arm. She understood. Some things were feminine knowledge. She had this intuition. What I couldn’t tell her earlier, she now grasped in its entirety. She looked down at John, her face contorted with a look that read confusion and disappointment.

 

Her fingers moved down to clasp my hand. She sighed

 

 

and I smiled. It was the only response I had.

 

“No wonder you seem so different. So bogged down,

 

Love.”

 

I wasn’t exactly ready to talk about John and Holly with anyone else. I still hadn’t fully let the whole truth really sink into my marrow. There is acknowledgement and then acceptance. The transition between those weren’t fully realized.

 

Then out of some misguided attempt to make John feel badly, I’d blurted out that I might be pregnant when I had no idea if that were even true. It could be true. Anything was possible with the careless sex life that I shared with John. When you don’t believe pregnancy is possible you take all kinds of reckless approaches to sex. Especially since I thought I was protected. I couldn’t talk about that, not my probable pregnancy or my husband’s indiscretion. Not yet.

 

I had to tell her something. “He says it wasn’t anything significant.”

 

“He said that?” She reacted sharply. “What’s his definition of significant?”

 

The baby that Holly spoke about was something I would discuss only with John. “A sort of impersonal sexual act,” I said, adding to the mystery. She was my elder and talking about sex with her felt as awkward as talking about it with Mama would

 

 

be.

 

“Oh, M. I’m sorry. That’s what you were going at each other about? Holly?”

 

“Yes it was all abut Holly, but also because I mentioned taking the children to my parents.” I had told him that and it was the thing that received the loudest reaction. “I need time to think.”

 

“Of course you do.”

 

“But, I know John. He would never let me take them and just go without him behaving in some drastic dramatic way.”

 

“What’s drastic?”

 

“You never know with him.” He had a plane and money at his disposal.

 

She had turned fully towards me, chair and body. “Tell me, what do you want to do?”

 

“Go back to yesterday when I didn’t know anything about John and Holly.”

 

Edie laughed humorlessly. “What else?”

 

“Protect them from this.” Noodle and Noah were finally on their feet holding hands. John was adjusting each of their life jackets as they stood in a line by age. He hesitated at Noah’s jacket. Bending on one knee, he leaned into Noah and seemed to be whispering something.

 

 

“We were separated when Noodle and Nicky were just babies. It was so painful. We co-parented with a mediator then. It was awfully hard on them. I don’t want them to have to go through that again. I definitely don’t want Noah to have to go through it.”

 

“…because you love John or because you want to protect them?”

 

“Both,” I admitted, realizing it as I spoke. “I love my husband. Up until yesterday, I loved my marriage.”

 

“Sweetie, you just told me that your husband cheated

 

on you.”

 

“Well, now you see that we’re not perfect.”

 

She patted my knee. “I never thought you were. I also never understood a woman’s need to marry the same man over and over again. Look at Liz…did it work for her? I just don’t understand that kind of thing.”

 

“Neither do I except I know what that kind of love feels like.”

 

“Crazy,” Edie responded sadly. “Plain crazy.” “Come with us Mama,” Noah yelled from his father’s

 

shoulder. John had lifted him near my side of the bridge. “We want you to come in the boat, too.”

 

“Is this the something drastic?”

 

 

I watched John as I spoke. “Maybe…”

 

“Mama?”

 

I stood up and turned back to Edie. “This is what it is. This is my life,” I allowed with some sadness.

 

I walked down the bridge slowly. At the bottom of the stairs, down the slant of sand, my children and their father waited. I knew exactly what he was doing. I gave him a look when I reached them to let him know it. He set Noah back on his own two feet so that he could help Nicky pull the kayak down the sand to the water’s edge.

 

“Baby, please be very careful out there.” I told

 

Nicky.

 

He smiled at me. “I will. I promise. Thank you for letting me do this.”

 

“Oh, honey, you’re welcome.”

 

“Okay, Nick, come on…” John held the paddles out to Nicky. He was holding onto the boat so that Nicky could climb into it without tipping over. “Honey, you can get Noah into the boat.”

 

“I want to sit with you,” Noah said.

 

“I guess that leaves us,” I said to Noodle. She was watching her brother set out into the water. “Come on Noodle.”

 

I stepped into the boat and sat down making room for

 

 

Noodle to climb in. “Daddy?” Her eyes flashed as the boat wavered against the water. She reached out in panic. “Daddy…”

 

“I’m here,” he lifted her over the boat quickly. “I have you, Jules.”

 

Noodle’s panic disappeared with her father’s touch. She folded serenely into his arms. The fear that had come over her disappeared as swiftly as the fish leaping through the water. Noah had spotted a beautiful minnow nipping at the side of the boat. He got to his knees and reached over the side trying to stroke the shiny body of the fish.

 

“Noah’s going to fall in,” Noodle said as they eased into the seat beside us.

 

“I have him,” I assured her. He was between my knees. “I’m not scared like you,” Noah teased as he slapped

 

at the water.

 

“Don’t tease your sister.”

 

“Daddy, she is scared.”

 

“I’m not scared enough to not throw you in the water.” Noah didn’t flinch. “I can swim,” he reminded his

 

sister.

 

“That’s enough,” John warned. He had maneuvered the boat away from the edge of the sand toward where Nicky was directing us. “Look at that. Look at my boy.”

 

 

A quiet overcame the four of us as we watched Nicky’s arms power through the calm waters. He was the guide on this trip. I rested against the warm padding of my seat. Noah was as usual, a ball of energy. I leaned forward and brought him onto my lap, wrapping my arms around his middle. He allowed this. His hair smelled of sweat and saltwater. I had missed him while he was away. As the youngest of our brood, he still accepted affection without feeling babied. He was open to hugs and kisses. Being on the water, so near John, was painful. It was the last place I wanted to be–beside the person who was twisting my insides into knots. He was mercifully avoiding eye contact. We were close enough to touch but his hands were wrapped around Noodle. His eyes were on the water, on Nicky as he crossed the water ahead of us.

 

I pulled Noah closer. “What did you do while you were

 

away?”

 

“Ate,” a laughed vibrated between our bodies. He rubbed his belly dramatically. “Godmommy’s family makes all kinds of food on a big grill. You know like the grill Daddy has at home? It’s just like that.” He opened his arms wide describing it. His words were rapid and endless. “Barbecue, Mama…it didn’t taste like Daddy’s. It was good. I had three plates.”

 

 

His animated spirit poured through me. It was contagious. “Did you?”

 

He nodded. “And something called banana pudding. Do you eat that or is it only for people like us?”

 

“Us?” I questioned, puzzled by that particular phrase. “Our family?”

 

He squirmed around in my lap until we were face to face. He threw his legs on either side of mine. “No Mama, you’re not like me.” With is fingertip, he drew a line down my chin. “See, I’m brown and you’re not. Like Godmommy’s famiily. They all look like me, not you.”

 

“Noah…”

 

“He’s not white, Mama,” his sister chimed in from her father’s lap.

 

Shock filled my voice. “Juliana.”

 

It was then that our eyes–John’s and mine–met over their heads. He shook head his gently. Don’t do it. I closed my eyes and swallowed the dry ball lodging my throat. We hadn’t discussed what to do in this moment. I had my ideas about race and raising him colorblind, but they held no merit as I looked into Noah’s questioning eyes that were remarkably unfilled with confusion. He seemed anything but a confident little boy with facts that could not be disputed.

 

 

“I’m not white, Mama…” His words neutralized the panic I was trying to keep below my tongue. “I’m black.”

 

I held his face. “Who told you that?”

 

John cleared his throat but I refused to look up. I watched the confidence possessing my little boy and decided to step into the fray. He was old enough to know but was he old enough to understand. He knew that he was not born of my body, that his mother was Keema and that she had given him to us. That wasn’t the part that he wanted to know about. He was asking a question that I had hoped would never have to happen between us.

 

“You tell me,” he answered with a frightening amount of maturity.

 

“You’re my son. You’re Noah Black. I’m your Mommy and that’s your Daddy. You have sisters and brothers. That’s our family.”

 

“But nobody looks like me.”

 

“He didn’t know before,” Noodle explained. I realized that the two of them must have had a discussion about Noah’s realization. “He didn’t know that his real mama wasn’t white.”

 

“Mommy is my real Mama,” Noah disputed. “She just didn’t carry me in her tummy like she did you.”

 

“Exactly,” I said rubbing his cheek. “But that’s what makes you who you are.”

 

 

“Jules, what makes Noah and even you who you are is who your family is. We’re your family, Buddy.”

 

“Daddy, Rachel isn’t your daughter but she looks like you. Noah looks different. Look at his hair.”

 

“Okay, that’s enough,” I interrupted.

 

“Mama, it’s okay. I’m still your baby boy. I’m just

 

black.”

 

John raised his hand. “Let’s leave it at that.” “No, John…Noah, you’re my baby because inside of

 

here,” I touched his chest, “we all look alike. You and I look just the same.”

 

“I know Mama.”

 

“Do you?” I asked, holding his chin.

 

“Yes,” he said, ending the conversation by slipping from my lap to lean over the edge of the boat again. He lowered his hands in the water. “I want to catch a fish, Daddy.” He said as though the conversation that had nearly stopped my heart was finished. That it was understood.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

When Children Speak

 

“Are we getting divorced?” Noah half-whispered in the patchy darkness of the evening.

 

“Divorced…” The word tumbled out thickly as it settled in my mind.

 

Divorce–it felt like betrayal just to acknowledge it. To speak it, even as quietly as I had. I could not pretend to be brave enough to say it again, so instead, I poked at the fire blazing at our feet and said, “Do you want more marshmallows?”

 

We were sitting along the edge of the lake underneath the silvery moon. John was teaching Nicky to skim rocks a few feet away. They were like two monuments glowing by the light of the fire that John started in a little pit that was surrounded by old tree stumps that had been smoothed into low benches.

 

 

“No more marshmallows,” he answered glumly.

 

He was facing the fire sitting upright on my lap. I didn’t have to see his face to know the disappointment hardening his features. He pushed the end of the thin branch he was holding into the fire and inquired again calmly, “Are we?”

 

There was a different texture to his voice this time. A little shakier than his first asking. He turned his head in John and Nicky’s direction.

 

“Noah.” I tossed my twig into the fire and pulled Noah’s back to my chest. “Do Daddy and I…” He turned around in my lap like a tornado.

 

I lost my nerve. There was an entire lifetime of trust in his eyes. We had taken him into our family and promised to always love and care for him. He was our baby. The last baby that had slept between us, the little guy who John hadn’t known he could love as much as he found himself loving him.

 

My hear tore apart seeing his fear.

 

His face began to swim in front of me. He raised his hand to wipe away the tears leaking down my face. Don’t cry…” he consoled.

 

That voice made me want to pull it together. To erase the fearful way Noah’s eyes held onto mine. I swallowed the ball

 

 

in my throat; I cleaned my face with a slow swipe of my hand. “Noah,” I took hold of his face, “what would make you

 

ask that?”

 

“Just cause,” he shrugged, dropping his head. “That’s not an answer, sweetie.” I said, kissing his

 

forehead. “Noah, look at me.”

 

He dropped the marshmallow that he’d been holding onto into the fire. He began muttering,”I just want you to tell me.”

 

“And I just want to talk to you,” I told him.

 

“You always want to talk.” He sighed imperceptibly reminding me of his father.

 

“Can we?”

 

He looked at me as earnestly as a little boy could. “Are we divorcing Daddy?”

 

“Look at me.” He became a heavy mass as he shifted in my lap reluctantly. “Hey, look at me Noah. Where is this coming from?”

 

He filled his cheeks with air, breathing out the words, “I don’t think Daddy loves you anymore.”

 

His earnestness caused the tiniest ripple of fear to rise. It took me a second to swallow Noah’s truth–as he knew it to be. He was a kid who was dealing in truly adult emotions. I could see them wrestling within as he squirmed on my lap.

 

 

Noah leaned into my chest, whispering, “I’m sorry,

 

Mommy.”

 

I was only Mommy when he was vulnerable. “What are you sorry about, sweetie?” I asked, rubbing his back.

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged again.

 

“Look at me.” I lifted him from my chest. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about because I love you. And your daddy loves you.”

 

“Does he love Holly too?”

 

Hair rose on the back of my neck. I looked over to where he was standing with Nicky. “Holly is Daddy’s friend.”

 

“That’s not an answer,” Noah told me maturely.

 

Be careful, I reminded myself. Be careful in this moment. Something was about to change again. I could feel it in the way that Noah’s eyes moved to his father; by the way he wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

 

“Daddy loves Holly, as a friend.”

 

Noah shook his head against my chest. His eyes were drawn tightly together. He rubbed at my back gently.

 

“Do you and Daddy still love each other?”

 

“Of course baby,” I answered too quickly. There couldn’t be any doubt in my son’s mind of my love for his

 

 

father. “I’ll always love your daddy.”

 

“Then why are you so mad?”

 

“I’m not, Noah.”

 

He sat up from our hug, looking into my eyes. “You keep yelling, Mama. We heard you.”

 

Tears fell again. “I’m sorry about that.”

 

“It’s because of Holly. She loves daddy more than a friend. Doesn’t she?”

 

“Honey…”

 

“Mommy, I saw them.”

 

Those words struck a place inside that immediately recalled when another one of my children had said those words to me. Sami. My sweet Sami who never fully recovered from the affliction of knowing too much truth about one’s parent.

 

The truth was rattling around my chest. This is the moment when your life changes, I quietly acknowledged to myself. This changes something.

 

“You saw who?” I asked carefully.

 

“Daddy kissed her,” he said in one breath. “Friends kiss,” I told him to give him an out. “No, Mommy not like that.” He closed his eyes as

 

though he was grappling with the image. “He kissed her between her legs.”

 

 

“You saw that,” I asked too loudly, too harshly. “When honey? Where?”

 

“Before you came home this time.” He looked out to where his father stood again. “Are you going to be mad at Daddy?”

 

“Noah, where were they?” I asked, unable to contain the anger and curiosity.

 

“Your room.”

 

“You saw Holly and Daddy in our bed?”

 

“Mommy, I…”

 

His discomfort was like a glass of cold water being thrown into my face. I was questioning my baby about his father’s acts of infidelity as though it was his job to reveal these things.

 

“I’m sorry,” I pulled him close to my chest again. “I didn’t mean to see them…I only wanted to sleep

 

with Daddy that night. I wasn’t being nosy the way that Sissy says that I am. I just wanted to sleep with Daddy.”

 

I stroked his back as I kissed his head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Mama’s going to take care of all of this.”

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

“Trust me,” I told him.

 

He nodded.

 

 

“Now do me a favor? Go tell Nicky that it’s time for his shower, then I want you and your brother to go up to the house and tell Godmommy to get you guys ready for bed. Can you do that?”

 

“Mama, what’s going to happen?”

 

I didn’t know. I was just following my instinct. “Honey, it’s going to be okay.”

 

“Don’t be mad at Daddy.”

 

“I’m not.” I was hurt. So was my son. “Listen to Mama, this is not your fault. Whatever happens, nothing that you told me is the reason. I need you to know that, baby.”

 

Noah lowered his head. He said, “Okay, Mommy.”

 

He climbed from my lap and started walking heavily down the lake. After he reached his father and brother, Noah and Nicky started racing up the hill towards the house.

 

“When you came into my life all those years ago, when my life was completely leveled…I was pretending to function for the twins and for my family and friends in order to just make it, and there you were. You saved my life.”

 

“I don’t trust you even with our children, I’ve never felt

 

 

that before.

 

<<<<>>>>