by Marci Bolden
“Okay?” she asked before taking a step.
“Yeah. A little lightheaded. It’ll pass.” He closed his eyes as if to give his head a few seconds to stop spinning. “I’m good.”
Sliding her hand in his, she guided him around the tables to the exit. As she’d suggested, they stopped at the maître d’ stand and asked the young woman to take their photo before leaving. John hugged her close, until he was pressing his cheek to her head. To the outside world, they probably looked like just another couple having a nice dinner.
Like always, the truth was much darker and more depressing than they let on to those around them.
Stepping out into the temperate Seattle evening, she was surprised at the contentment that filled her. The weather was a bit cooler than she was used to, but she loved the lack of humidity in the air. Houston was like a sauna in June. Sometimes she found the hot air too hard to breathe. Pulling her hand from John’s, she started to open her purse. “I’ll call for a car.”
“Not yet. Let’s take a walk.”
“Are you up for it?”
“Sure. Are you?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
They made it half a block before he pointed to an ice cream parlor, reminding her he still owed her dessert for the day at the beach when he hadn’t been up for the treat. Though she wasn’t really up for it now, she let him steer her that way.
John ordered a scoop of strawberry, one of chocolate, and nuts on top. He turned to her, silently asking what she wanted.
“Just get two spoons,” she instructed instead of ordering something for herself.
They continued their walk, sharing the treat and taking in the scenes of downtown Seattle.
“I like it here,” she said after a while.
“Yeah?”
She stared up at the buildings surrounding them. “The weather and the atmosphere. This is nice. Serene.”
“You should move here.”
“I’ve got a few more years before I can retire.”
Tossing the now empty container in the trash, John said, “Don’t wait, Caroline. Trust me. You don’t want to wait to start living again. If you like it here, you should move. Give it a try. The worst that can happen is you change your mind and leave.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is.” Stepping in front of her, blocking her way, he held her gaze. “What do you have in Houston that is worth putting off doing what you want?”
“Well, for starters, I have a job and a house.”
“Is that enough?”
Lifting a brow, she smirked. “Aren’t you the one who always told me a good job and a nice house should be enough?”
Her teasing didn’t budge the sternness in his eyes. “Yes. And you were the one who said there was nothing wrong with wanting more. You were right. Like always. What are you going to do when this trip is over? When you go home, what are you going to do with your life? Sit in your office and read reports all day?”
“My work is important.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. But does it make you happy?”
She opened her mouth, but the answer stuck in her throat. She would have said yes a month ago. A week ago. She wouldn’t have hesitated. Now she couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“You told me earlier today that I should have let you go. I should have lived my life,” John said. “You were right. I should have. I didn’t want to, but I should have. You may not want to let Tobias go and move forward, but you should. He’d want you to. Wouldn’t he? He’d want you to be happy. I didn’t even know him, but I believe that.”
“Yes, he’d want that.”
“So do I. I want you to live the rest of your life living. Not hanging on to the past or trying to reach some expectation your parents pounded into your head from the day you were born. You should eat the ice cream. Move to a new city. Start a new adventure.”
She laughed tenderly. “Easy for you to say. You aren’t sticking around to see me fail.”
“Who cares if you fail? Failing means you tried, right?”
“I don’t want to talk about this, John. This is depressing.”
She started around him, but he stepped in her way.
“You know what’s depressing? Standing at the finish line and realizing there’s no going back. There’re no do-overs. When it’s done, it’s done. I had everything. I had the world in my hands, and I pissed it away. You have no idea how much I wish I could go back.” Cupping her head, he put his forehead to hers the way he used to. “Jesus Christ, I wish I could go back. I wish I could take everything back and do it right. I’d still have you. We’d still have Katie. I’d have been the husband you deserved. The father I should have been. I’d be better. I swear.”
“I know,” she said, because she believed him. Spending time with him now, she believed he would have tried harder if he knew then what he knew now. “That doesn’t mean anything would have changed, John.”
“Maybe not, but at least I could look back and know I had tried my damnedest.” He pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her. “You don’t want to feel like this when you get to the end. You don’t want to look back and regret every goddamned day of your life.” Leaning back, he searched her eyes. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t go home and live the same day over and over when I’m gone.”
She heaved a sigh. “Okay. I promise.”
“You’re saying that to appease me, aren’t you?” Rolling his eyes, he dropped his hands from her. “You never were very good at keeping promises, anyway.”
“Oh my God. You really think you have room to talk about broken promises? Really?”
His laughter rang out as he put his arm around her shoulder and they started down the street again.
Ten
Carol tightened her grip on the steering wheel when John pushed himself up again. He’d been restless all day, leaving her nerves on edge. She continually glanced in the mirror, watching him pace. He’d open the fridge, scan the contents, slam it and walk to the bed. Then he’d sit at the table, stare out the window, and get up and pace again.
“What’s going on, John?” she asked.
Dropping into the passenger seat, John narrowed his eyes as he glowered at her, making his agitation clear. “You’re a liar.”
Glancing at him, she pressed her lips together, choosing not to remind him of his years of practice in that department. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’m a cop, Caroline.” His voice turned hard and filled with accusation. “I know how to read people.”
“Is that so?”
“Who is he?”
She stared at him longer than was probably safe considering she was driving a motorhome along the highway. Traffic grew heavier with every mile closer to Spokane they traveled. Swallowing, she focused on driving. “You’re getting confused. You need to go rest.”
Shaking his head, he slammed his hand into the dashboard.
“Hey!” Seeing an exit ahead, she moved to the right lane. By the time she pulled into a gas station and parked, he was pacing again. Turning off the ignition, she left the keys dangling as she unbuckled and turned her chair.
He took the four steps needed to cross the small area, turned, and took more steps, muttering the entire time. Agitation was a side effect of his tumor—he’d snapped at her more than once for no reason—but this was the first time she’d seen his temper this flared up. She wasn’t sure what to do. Probably let him go, let the episode play out, but then he turned to her and her heart lurched in her chest. He looked completely broken inside.
“I love you,” he said as tears filled his eyes. “Why can’t you understand how much I love you?”
“Get in bed, John.”
Shaking his head, he begged with the look in his eyes. “Who is he? Just tell me who he is before you leave. You owe me that much.”
“Get in bed. You need to rest.”
“Fuck you.” He started for the side door.
Jumping up,
she blocked his way. “No! You’re not leaving.”
Psychotic episodes and bouts of dementia were inevitable. Dr. Collins had warned her about this possibility when he’d pulled her into his office to try to talk her out of this trip. He’d warned that John could become violent and if he did, he’d have to be put on antipsychotic meds and possibly hospitalized. For her safety. That was what Dr. Collins had said. She’d have to have John admitted for her safety. She didn’t fear John, even as he stood there scowling at her. They had years of practice manipulating each other. They had a lifetime of pressing each other’s buttons. She didn’t need antipsychotic meds to control him.
“Don’t leave me, John,” she whispered, putting her hands to his cheeks. “Please. Don’t leave me.”
The edge of his anger visibly slipped away as she brushed her thumbs over his cheeks. Dropping back to his seat at the table, he rested his elbows on the top and pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes. “My head hurts.”
“I know. You need to rest.”
Lowering his hands, he met her eyes, looking at her like she’d somehow crushed his soul. “Are you cheating on me, Caroline?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you going to leave me?”
“No.”
Grabbing her hands, he squeezed them tight. “I need you. You know that, right? I can’t get through this life without you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t make things easy for you. I don’t mean to be difficult. You gave up so much to marry me. I know that. I know. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Things will get better. Just don’t leave me, okay?”
“I’m not leaving.”
He toyed with her wedding ring before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“My head hurts.”
She offered him a small smile. “You’ve had a long day. You should get in bed. Get some sleep.”
His eyes caught on hers for a few heartbeats before he finally nodded. Easing from the table, he moved to the bed. She sat, making sure he stayed there, before grabbing her phone. She started to call Dr. Collins, but hesitated.
If John heard her whispering into the phone right now, he might fall back into his delusion. The call could wait. She’d leave a message for the doctor after they stopped for the night. Sinking into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and got back on the highway. The sooner this trip ended, the better.
For both of them.
Caroline swallowed hard. This was her last chance. She had no doubt Eve, the head nurse, meant it this time. No more warnings. No more forgiveness. The next time Caroline was even one minute late, she was fired.
Everyone in the pediatric unit knew the score. They all knew John was a worthless drunk and Caroline tolerated him for reasons no one could understand, though they’d never said it bluntly. She tried to hide it, but the gossipers had caught wind as to why she was always late. Now everyone knew. She couldn’t let Katie stay home alone, and it was too far to drive her to her grandparents’ house. And her husband was always out drinking.
“Get a sitter,” Eve said, no longer trying to be sympathetic to Caroline’s problems.
She nodded. “I’ve been looking—”
“Stop looking. Find one or find another job.”
“Okay.”
Eve’s eyes softened, but only a touch. “It’s not fair to the nurses who have to cover for you.”
“I know. I won’t be late again.” Lowering her head as she walked away, she hoped to hide her quivering lip.
She turned into the first vacant room, closed the door behind her, and slipped into the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, she let go of the tears she’d been fighting since the confrontation with her boss started. Mostly because she knew this was the end of her career. She would be late again. It was only a matter of time, because John had had a fit the last time she’d hired a sitter. He didn’t want a stranger looking after Katie. He promised he’d be home on time.
He always promised. He never delivered.
“Hey,” a voice said from the bathroom door. Simon Miller, the pediatric pulmonologist who always seemed to be on duty, stepped into the small space and pulled her to him. He didn’t say anything as she melted into his embrace. He didn’t promise everything was going to be okay. Doctors didn’t make false promises like her husband.
He simply held her until she could control her sobbing and then let her step back.
Caroline kept her face down, muttering an apology as she snagged several rough tissues from the box on the sink. She wiped her eyes and nose and snuffled back as much mucus as she could. “I should quit.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No. I don’t want to get fired, either. Eve’s right, it’s not fair to everyone else. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t keep letting John drag me down.” She ran her hand over her hair and let out an audible breath. Lifting her face, she was expecting some kind of confirmation from him, but the look in his eyes was anything but understanding of her situation. The intensity in his stare was something she’d seen time and time again since he’d come to the hospital eight months prior.
Whenever she caught him watching her, which was frequently, the world seemed to stop spinning. She had to give them both credit. They’d resisted the pull for months, but standing there, feeling downtrodden, something in her broke. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t keep lying to herself that her marriage was more than a façade held together by her determination to not break up Katie’s home.
The last little bit of loyalty she had to her husband shattered in that moment. Not only because of the trouble he’d caused her time and time again, but because Simon Miller’s desire for her was plainly written on his face. She needed that. She needed to be wanted. She practically threw herself at him. He was right there, meeting her in the middle to catch her.
Their mouths crashed together, and all her troubles disappeared.
Caroline never would have considered herself the kind to commit adultery—she’d always prided herself on her ethics—but John had worn her down to the point that she simply didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t care. The latest lecture she’d received from her boss was the last blow her soul could take. She was broken.
John had broken her. She needed something—just one thing—that felt right in her life. Having a handsome and successful man desire her was a pretty good start.
Pulling away from the kiss, she licked her lips. She wanted that man more than she could ever remember wanting John. That said a lot considering how enraptured she’d been with him when they’d started dating.
Simon brushed his hand over her hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Me too.”
Awkward silence fell between them. She was married. They worked together. Too many things were wrong with what was happening. Still, he put his hands on her hips, drawing her against him, and she forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t let him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again, slowly this time, savoring the feel of his mouth working against hers.
He smelled like a doctor—like rubbing alcohol and soap—and his breath was fresh and his mouth sweet. Nothing like John. Nothing like the bitter taste of beer he left on her tongue that made her want to gag.
She rarely let John kiss her anymore, but when she did, she pulled away from him as quickly as she could. She wanted to never stop kissing Simon. She wanted to taste him forever, but that wasn’t possible.
“We should talk about this,” he whispered. “Someplace private so no one can eavesdrop.”
Guilt punched her gut. “If I meet you someplace private, I’m going to do more than kiss you.”
He cupped her face, lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes. “I hope so.” Frowning when the pager on his hip went off, he read the screen as she bit her lip. “Gotta go. I’ll writ
e down my address for you later.”
Her stomach dropped as a mixture of fear and excitement hit her like a lightning bolt. She should tell him no, but the word didn’t even come close to forming on her tongue.
He turned toward the door, but then stopped and looked at her. “I want to make one thing very clear, Caroline.”
There it was. The catch. The small print. The inevitable disappointment.
The intensity returned to Simon’s eyes as he stared at her. “You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. Your job is important. You are important. You deserve someone in your life who makes you feel that way every single day.”
Her smile returned as he left her standing there, letting his affirmations soak in. An hour later, she was scribbling in a chart when Simon stopped at her side. To anyone else, it might seem he was reading over her shoulder, but as he pointed to something on the chart, he dropped a slip of paper, said, “I’ll understand if you don’t show,” and walked way.
She didn’t react then, but before she put the chart away, she tucked his address into her pocket. Walking straight to the restroom, she locked herself in a stall and pulled the paper from her pocket to read his address over and over until she had it memorized. When the apartment number and street address were cemented to her brain, she flushed the paper and any evidence that he’d ever given it to her.
She was torn the rest of the night, not sure what she should do. When her shift ended and she climbed behind the steering wheel of her car, she sat for at least ten minutes, wrestling with her emotions.
She loved John. Not like she had five years ago, but she loved him. He was the father of her child. He wasn’t all bad. But his drinking. God, his drinking was taking over their lives. Anytime she tried to point that out, she got excuses and guilt trips and fights. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t fight with him one more time about the beer, the hangovers, the cancelled plans, her consistent tardiness to work.
She couldn’t fight him one more time. She was damned tired.
Being with Simon, even at the hospital, was a reprieve from that. The stress of her life evaporated when she was at work, but most especially when she got to work with Simon. He was a fantastic doctor, compassionate and understanding with his patients. He put the kids at ease and calmed frightened parents.
