by Joy Fielding
“Fingers crossed,” Maggie repeats, finishing what’s left of her coffee and standing up, afraid to prolong their visit any further. “I really should get going, get those groceries in the fridge,” she says, deciding Craig is right about not getting involved. Have the last eighteen months taught her nothing?
Besides, she likes Olivia. The woman is sweet and open and trusting, and clearly has enough on her plate. Voicing her suspicions would only upset her, probably unnecessarily, end a budding friendship before it has a chance to really develop. And she could be mistaken. There could be a perfectly logical explanation.
Except there isn’t, and she isn’t.
Still, this isn’t her problem to solve. Olivia will undoubtedly discover the truth on her own, sooner or later. She doesn’t need Maggie’s help or advice.
Besides, what is it they say about shooting the messenger?
Chapter Seventeen
Dani’s hands are shaking, her fingers still twitching from all the rounds she fired at the range, as they head back home along I-95.
“You okay?” Nick asks.
“I’m fine.” More than fine, she thinks, her head spinning. In truth, she’s exhilarated.
Exhilarated and confused.
“More fun than you thought it would be,” her husband says, not bothering to minimize the “I told you so” in his voice.
“It was.” Dani had been prepared, indeed had been expecting, to hate everything about this morning’s excursion. And she had—right up until the minute she held that damn gun in her hands and squeezed the trigger.
The fact is that Dani is almost embarrassed by how much she enjoyed the experience, especially once she got the hang of lining up the gun’s sights to the target and balancing the weapon properly with both hands, remembering to exhale as she pulled the trigger. She’d been initially startled by the force of the bullets as they exited the gun, but what really astonished her was the degree of pleasure she’d felt, the sublime sense of release firing that damn thing had provided.
The first time she actually hit the target sheet, albeit only the edge of its white border, she’d felt an unmistakable surge of pride. The first time she hit inside the outline’s torso, she’d felt a rush of adrenaline so strong it almost knocked her off her feet. When subsequent bullets pierced the outline’s head and heart, she’d experienced a wave of satisfaction so strong, it was almost sexual.
As if Nick instinctively understands what she’s feeling, his hand reaches over to caress her inner thigh, his fingers disappearing between her legs, reaching ever higher. Dani squirms, glancing quickly toward the backseat to make sure her sons aren’t watching. But Tyler is busy playing with his Super Mario stuffed figurine and Ben is staring absently out the side window. She opens her legs slightly to accommodate Nick’s probing fingers.
What a day this is turning out to be, she thinks, giving herself over to the surprising gentleness of his touch. Maybe this morning is the start of a new beginning, she tells herself. As bizarre as it sounds, as bizarre as it is, maybe this activity is something that will bring them closer together. As a couple. As a family.
The family that shoots together…
The boys had been less successful in their efforts. Ben, despite his eagerness and bravado, had a tough time balancing the gun and a tougher time lining up his sights to the target. Tyler had better luck lining up the sights but lost his balance each time he pulled the trigger, causing the bullets to fly off in all directions except, of course, the right one.
But perhaps the most surprising thing about the morning was how patient Nick had been with all of them. He never lost his temper, never so much as uttered a disparaging rebuke. It was all “Good effort” and “Don’t worry. Keep trying. You’ll do better next time.”
Next time, Dani finds herself thinking as the car leaves the highway at PGA Boulevard, heading west toward Military Trail. Next time can’t come soon enough as far as she’s concerned. Firing that gun has given her a sense of power she hasn’t felt in years.
She can’t wait to do it again.
Ten minutes later they reach Hood Road, and minutes after that, the small cul-de-sac that is Carlyle Terrace. “You boys find something to keep you busy for a bit,” Nick instructs, taking Dani’s hand and leading her toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Tyler asks.
“Your mother and I have some business to take care of,” Nick tells him, not breaking stride.
“What kind of business?”
Dani opens her mouth to object, but the sound that emerges is more a groan of anticipation than protest.
“I’m hungry,” says Ben.
“Have a glass of milk,” Nick calls down from the top of the stairs.
“But—”
“You heard me.” Nick guides Dani into the bedroom and locks the door behind them.
Dani can’t remember the last time she was so turned on. Her entire body is tingling as Nick pushes her back on the bed, pulling off her shorts and panties in one expert swoop, his head quickly disappearing between her legs, his tongue finishing the job his fingers started in the car. She cries out as she climaxes, a sound so guttural she can hardly believe it’s coming from her.
Seconds later, he is on her and inside her, surrounding her with tenderness, and she is almost weeping with pleasure.
And then, suddenly, everything changes.
“My turn,” he says, pulling out of her and flipping her over onto her stomach.
“What are you…?”
“Hold still.” He parts the cheeks of her buttocks, mounting her from behind.
Nick has mentioned wanting to try anal sex several times over the last few years, but Dani was always able to dissuade him, or at least divert him.
“Wait. I don’t know…”
But he is already pounding his way into her, her pleasure disappearing into a pain so intense she feels she might split in two.
She tries willing her body to go numb and closes her eyes, picturing herself back at the gun range, the .22 in her hands, pumping bullet after bullet into her target.
Except this time, the target has a face.
She groans as she watches the imaginary bullets shatter Nick’s skull, obliterating his once-handsome features, fragments of his flesh and pieces of his bones flying into the air like so many spent casings.
She squeezes the trigger to the rhythm of his thrusts, shooting him again and again, over and over, until there is nothing left of her husband but an empty outline riddled with holes.
The outline crumples to the floor as Nick collapses onto the bed beside her, his body bathed in sweat. “Whew,” he mutters, then laughs. “That was intense.”
“Mom…Dad…” Dani hears Ben call from downstairs. “How long are you gonna be? I’m starving.”
“Be right there, sport,” Nick calls back. “I think you might be bleeding, babe,” he says as he pushes off the bed. “Nothing to be concerned about. You’ll be fine. I promise it’ll be better next time.”
Good effort. Don’t worry. Keep trying. You’ll do better next time.
Dani remains on her stomach, motionless. If she moves, she will fall apart.
“Mom!” Ben calls again.
“Come on, babe,” Nick says, giving Dani’s backside a playful slap, causing fresh spasms of pain to shoot through her body. “Up and at ’em.”
She watches as Nick climbs back into his clothes, then opens the door and disappears down the stairs.
Only then does she find the strength to move, her legs all but giving out when she tries to stand. Her hands, which just a short time ago were shaking with excitement, are now shaking with outrage and shame.
“Did I hear someone say they’re hungry?” she hears Nick say.
“I am!” Ben exclaims.
“Where’s Mommy?” Tyler asks.
“She’ll be down soon,” Nick tells him, sounding as sure of himself as he always does.
As sure of her as he always is.
Dani pushes one foot gingerly in front of the other, keeping close to the bed so as not to fall over, as she shuffles toward the bathroom. She locks the door behind her and steps into the shower, releasing the hot water and letting it wash over her wounded flesh. She watches the blood drip down her thighs to dance circles around the drain, then disappear, wishing she could follow suit. Grabbing the soap from its dish, she rubs it over her breasts, her belly, her thighs, between her legs, between her buttocks, rubbing even harder than she’d rubbed her hands at the range, trying to obliterate every trace of the poison that is her husband, stopping only when her efforts threaten to draw more blood.
She lifts her head toward the shower’s steady spray, opening her mouth and letting the water fill her throat until she gags. Her body doubles over as she empties herself of the taste of Nick’s fingers, the smell of his skin, the obscene rhythm of his thrusts. Only then does she shut off the water and step out of the stall. She stands there naked, staring at the steam coating the mirror over the sink, blocking her reflection. “I know you’re in there somewhere,” she whispers, not moving until she hears a knocking on the bathroom door.
“Dani,” Nick calls from the other side. “I’ll be out front with the boys.”
She nods, says nothing.
“I made you a sandwich,” he says.
Is he expecting her to thank him?
“It’s on the kitchen counter,” he adds when she doesn’t.
She waits until she hears the front door close before leaving the bathroom, opening the bedroom window and standing just out of sight while staring at the street below, grateful for the burst of fresh air that fills her lungs. She sees Nick toss a baseball to Ben and watches her son leap up to catch it in midair. Ben immediately throws it to Tyler, who misses, and they both watch helplessly as the ball rolls into the flowering shrubs lining Julia Fisher’s front walk.
As if on cue, the old woman and her grandson emerge from the house. The young man quickly retrieves the ball and throws it back to Tyler. “Catch it,” Dani whispers, leaning forward to watch, her forehead resting on the glass. “Please catch it.” But her sweet son misses it again. “Damn it,” Dani mutters as the ball rolls into the McKays’ driveway.
“It’s Mark, right?” she hears Nick ask the young man. “Feel like joining us?”
Mark smiles. “Sure. That’d be great.”
Another door opens and Sean Grant appears, his twins rushing past him to take part in the impromptu game, his daughter choosing to remain at his side. Seconds later, Aiden Young opens his front door. He hangs back, despite calls to join in.
“Hey, you, up there,” her husband suddenly calls to Dani, spotting her in the window and waving her down. “Get that gorgeous ass down here.”
Heads shoot toward her as Ben bursts into gales of laughter. “You said ‘ass’!”
Dani says nothing.
What can she say?
Her husband has robbed her of her voice.
Whatever power she felt earlier is gone.
Chapter Eighteen
“What’s going on?” Heidi asks, coming up behind her husband, her head sneaking through the crook in his arm. “Oh, fun!” she says, watching her neighbors as they spread out across the road in front of their houses. “Can I play?”
“Everybody’s welcome,” Nick says. “You, too, Julia.” He beckons the older woman forward.
Julia laughs, holding up both hands. “With these fingers? No, thank you. Think you’ll have more fun if I just watch.”
“Hi, there,” Mark calls to Heidi. “How’d dinner go the other night?”
“Who’s that?” Aiden asks his wife.
“The kid I was telling you about,” Heidi explains, under her breath. “The old lady’s grandson. The one who helped me make the dinner your mother didn’t eat.” The dinner is still a sore spot for Heidi. She’d tried putting it in the microwave the next night, but heating it up had only dried out the chicken, and the blueberry bread pudding, while still tasty, went more than a bit rubbery. “It was great,” she lies, watching him effortlessly leap into the air to catch the ball in his right hand.
Which he promptly tosses to her.
Heidi squeals with delight as she catches it and runs into the street to join the others. She throws the ball to one of the twins, who throws it to his sister, who throws it to Nick, who throws it to Ben, who tosses it back to Mark, who throws it back to Heidi.
Heidi turns toward her husband. “Come on, Aiden, honey. Come play with us.” She tosses him the ball.
He catches it, allowing himself to be coaxed into the street, and throws the ball to Nick, who passes it, underhand, to Tyler, who misses it again.
“Come on, buddy,” Nick says, as the ball rolls into the shadows of a palm tree at the side of Sean’s house. “You gotta pay attention. Eye on the ball. Remember?”
“Sorry,” Tyler says, running after it.
Maggie’s car approaches from Hood Road.
“Okay, guys,” Nick instructs. “Everybody off the road.”
Everyone gets out of the way to allow Maggie’s car entry.
“What’s going on here?” Maggie asks, pulling into her driveway as the game resumes. She exits her car, surveying the scene.
“Neighborhood ball game,” Nick explains. “Feel free to join in.”
Maggie unlocks the trunk of her car and removes an armload of groceries. “Maybe after I get these put away,” she says, deciding that the fates have determined it’s high time she got to know her neighbors.
A young man almost crashes into her as he leaps up to catch a ball. “Sorry about that.”
Maggie takes a step back. “Who are you?”
“That’s my grandson, Mark,” Julia calls from the doorway of the house next door.
Maggie nods. “Nice to meet you, Mark,” she tells the young man, glad her daughter isn’t around. This kid, with his long hair, skinny torso, and bad-boy vibe, is just the sort of young man Erin would probably find attractive. If only to spite her.
“Is Erin home?” she hears a voice ask.
Maggie is startled to hear her daughter’s name at almost the exact second she was thinking it. “Excuse me?” She looks down to see Tyler Wilson staring up at her.
“Is Erin home?” he repeats. “Can she come out and play?”
“Oh, no, sweetie. I’m afraid that she and Leo are with their father this weekend.”
“Oh.”
“But you and Leo should play together when he gets back. Maybe one day this week?” Maggie looks around to see if she can arrange a playdate with Tyler’s mother, but unsurprisingly, Dr. Dani Wilson is nowhere to be seen.
“Does Leo like fish?” Tyler asks.
“Well, he’s kind of a picky eater….” Maggie watches the boy’s face fill with alarm. “Oh, you mean that kind of fish! I’m sorry. Yes, Erin told me all about your amazing fish. A betta? Is that right?”
“He can do tricks….”
“Tyler,” his father admonishes. “Let Mrs. McKay take her groceries inside.”
“Hey, kid, catch,” Mark says, gently tossing Tyler the ball.
Tyler catches it and looks toward his father for approval, but Nick is no longer paying attention.
“Here comes another car,” someone shouts, as Olivia’s car approaches from the main street.
Once again, everyone scurries out of the way, allowing Olivia to pull into the small cul-de-sac. She pulls into her driveway, using her remote to open her garage door and parking beside her husband’s car. “The damnedest thing just happened,” she whispers to Sean as he’s helping her with the groceries. “Both my credit and debit cards were denied in Publix. If it hadn’t be
en for Maggie…”
“Maggie?”
“Our neighbor,” she says, waving to Maggie as she’s about to disappear inside her house. “She happened to be there and offered to put our groceries on her card. You wouldn’t happen to have two hundred dollars on you, would you, so I can pay her back?”
“Are you kidding?”
Olivia notes that the color has all but drained from her husband’s face. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s a mistake. I’ll clear it up with the bank on Monday. Hey,” she says to the small crowd. “How about I go inside and make us some lemonade?”
The children respond with a chorus of cheers and “all rights.”
“Lemonade sounds fabulous,” says Heidi.
“And I have some wonderful chocolate chip cookies my grandson made just this morning,” Julia tells them. “I’ll go get them.”
“I believe I may have just died and gone to heaven,” Nick says. “Tyler, go upstairs and see what’s keeping your mother. She won’t want to miss this.”
Tyler immediately starts running toward his house.
“Leave the ball,” his father instructs.
“Sorry,” Tyler says, dropping it.
Ben runs over to pick it up, then throws it to Mark, who, once again, throws it toward Heidi.
“Looks like someone has a crush,” Aiden says to his wife, extending his arms in front of her to catch it.
“What? No. Don’t be silly,” Heidi says, laughing.
Aiden hurls the ball back at Mark, the ball whizzing by his head to land in Julia’s small patch of front lawn. One of Olivia’s twins runs to retrieve it.
“Easy there, big guy,” Mark says. “Don’t want to break a window.”
“You okay?” Heidi asks her husband, laying a protective hand across his arm. The air is hot and humid, and Aiden isn’t very good with either.
“Yeah, fine.”
Behind her, the twins are fighting over the ball, their voices raised.
Heidi watches Aiden wince. He isn’t very good with loud voices.
“Sure is getting hot,” Mark says, running over to introduce himself. “Mark Fisher, Julia’s grandson.”
