“Hi, I’m from next door,” Sheila said, putting on a smile and talking loudly to be heard over the dog. “My name’s Sheila. It looks like my timing isn’t exactly ideal. I brought along something to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“Stop it!” the woman hissed, jerking the dog back by its collar. It let out a startled yelp and ducked back into the foyer.
Sheila winced.
With an exasperated sigh, the woman collected the vase of flowers and the wine bottle from her. She immediately set the vase on the floor, but she inspected the wine bottle for a moment as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d drink it or use it to make spaghetti sauce. With a look that seemed to say “spaghetti sauce,” she put the bottle on the floor, too. The German shepherd sniffed it.
“My name’s Sheila,” Sheila repeated.
The woman nodded. “Leah Engelhardt,” she said, unsmiling. With a hand on the knob, she kept the door half closed. Sheila guessed it was meant to both keep the dog in and her out. “I’m really busy right now,” the woman said. “Is there anything else you wanted?”
Sheila tried to smile. “Well, as long as I’m here, I was wondering if you were home last night. Your dog, I’m sure he’s just not used to the new surroundings—”
“He’s a she,” the neighbor said impatiently. “Her name’s Trudy.”
“Well, I heard Trudy barking all night. And I’m sure I’m not the only one . . .”
“Yeah, well, dogs bark,” she said shrugging.
As if on cue, Trudy started barking again.
“See?” the woman said. She turned and swatted the poor dog on the back of her head. “Quiet!”
Trudy let out another frightened yelp and backed away.
Sheila shook her head. “You really shouldn’t do that.”
“You want her to shut up, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“So I’ll do my best to keep her quiet any way I see fit. Okay? Now, I really need to go. Thanks for stopping by.”
Then she closed the door in Sheila’s face.
*
Dressed in his street clothes, gym bag in hand, Dylan roamed around both floors of the Pro Club. He searched around the machines and free weights and in the classrooms where the gym hosted group yoga and Pilates sessions, but he didn’t find Brooke anywhere.
She’d made it quite clear to him on Friday that they shouldn’t see each other again. But since everything had gone to hell on Monday with Eden’s unscheduled visit, he’d longed to be with Brooke. He wanted to be around someone who didn’t look at him as if he were a criminal. For the past two days, that was all he’d gotten from his family—including the daughter he never knew he had.
Brooke had made him feel important. He hadn’t even kissed her. They hardly knew each other. Still, he’d missed her terribly these past few days. Just thinking about her was like a reprieve from the grim reality of his current situation. She was his salvation.
As he found himself back at the gym’s front desk, Dylan felt so dejected.
He didn’t want to work out. That wasn’t why he’d come here. He thought about driving to Brooke’s apartment building and parking outside—maybe he could catch her coming or going. He realized this was total stalker behavior, but he didn’t care.
He was about to head out the door when he spotted her, coming from the hallway that led to the locker rooms. She had on her glasses, and her blond hair was swept back. She wore a dark blue rain slicker and carried a collapsible umbrella along with her gym bag.
When they locked eyes, Brooke stopped abruptly.
At first, she didn’t look happy to see him, and Dylan’s heart sank.
She shook her head at him, but then she smiled.
Dylan hastened toward her. “Thank God,” he whispered. “I was so worried I’d missed you.”
“I purposely came here early, so we wouldn’t run into each other,” she said under her breath. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to get involved.”
“I never agreed. You said something like that, but I never agreed.”
Brooke just shook her head again and continued toward the exit.
The young man folding towels at the front desk called to them, “Have a nice night!”
“Thank you!” Brooke called back.
Dylan caught up with her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I had to see you tonight. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Listen, Brooke, if you really want me to leave you alone, I will. I mean it. Everything in my life is so screwed up right now. The last thing I want is for you to feel like I’m stalking you.”
“Well, you kind of are,” she said, heading down the stairs to the lobby. “And I’m sorry, too, Dylan. But I thought I made it clear the other night that I didn’t want to see you.”
Dylan stopped. He watched her continue down to the bottom step alone. Then she suddenly seemed to realize he was no longer beside her. From the lobby, she turned to gaze up at him, looking a bit lost. After a second or two, she turned back around and hurried out through the lobby doors. Once outside, she stopped and stood there in the rain, staring at the wet sidewalk.
With uncertainty, Dylan came down the stairs and stepped outside.
“It’s so crazy,” she whispered to him. “You drove me home and we talked for twenty minutes, and then we went to dinner together. We’re practically strangers. There’s still so much I don’t know about you. But I can’t stop thinking about you, either. It’s not supposed to happen this quickly. It’s not supposed to happen period. I love my husband. You love your wife.”
Standing in the rain with her, Dylan took hold of her arms. “I know.”
She let out a sad laugh. “After my big speech the other night, I was here on Monday, absolutely heartbroken when I didn’t see you.”
“Monday was a rough night for me,” he said.
“Me, too,” she replied. “I came here early tonight because I told myself I needed to avoid you. Yet I was still looking around for you, still hoping.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away. She glanced around—at the sidewalk, the street, and then toward the glass doors to the gym’s lobby. “I know it sounds paranoid,” she whispered. “But I can’t get over the feeling that someone’s watching us. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Dylan shook his head. “No.”
“When is your wife expecting you home?”
“In about an hour.”
“I really don’t want to go home yet,” she said. “Can we just drive around?”
They hurried to his BMW. Once they were inside, he started up the car. Brooke shuddered, and Dylan switched on the heater. But he didn’t shift out of park.
As they sat and listened to the rain, he realized he couldn’t go anywhere until he told her the truth about everything that had happened this week. His hands on the steering wheel, he stared out the windshield. “Remember the other night, when you asked if I’d ever been unfaithful to my wife?”
“Yes . . .”
“When I told you that I’d never strayed, I was lying,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t exactly have a perfect record. It’s happened a few times. And—well, one of those times from long ago has come back to haunt me.” He turned to her. “I’ve disappointed everyone in my family. And now I’m going to disappoint you, too. But I can’t lie to you. I care about you too much. I guess if this doesn’t finish us, nothing will . . .”
“What is it?” she asked, a hand on his arm.
“On Monday, I found out I have a daughter I didn’t know about. She’s sixteen.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Then she let out a stunned little laugh. “I’m not judging you, but oh my God.”
Dylan told her the whole story. They drove around the Eastlake area for about twenty minutes. Except for asking a few questions, she didn’t say much. One of the questions she asked was why he’d been unfaithful to his wife at certain times.
“It’s not that I don’t love her,” he said. “I think, for both
of us, our relationship just isn’t very exciting or romantic anymore. I know it sounds selfish, but I get so frustrated with her at times. She’s so—complicated. I’ve talked to her about couples counseling, but she doesn’t want to go. Anyway, I’m sorry I lied to you the other night when I said I’ve never strayed. I wasn’t ready to tell you the truth. I was afraid you wouldn’t like me if I told you.”
True to her word earlier, she didn’t seem to pass any judgment. And it was the most honest explanation he’d ever given to anyone for why he cheated.
They ended up parking along a dark, narrow street by Lake Union. The rain let up, so they climbed out of the car and strolled down to an old wooden pier that jutted out beside a row of floating homes. The two of them were alone with a beautiful view of the water, the illuminated Space Needle, and all the lights in the buildings on the other side of Lake Union.
“Well, thank you for telling me,” she said finally, after a few minutes of silence between them. Her shoulder pressed against his as they looked out at the dark water. “If you’re asking for my advice, I think you really need to focus on being a father to your children—all four of them. I also think you and Sheila could use some couples counseling. What I don’t think you need, Dylan, is to be meeting in secret with another woman.”
“I know,” he murmured. “I’ve screwed things up royally. I don’t want to screw up your life while I’m at it.”
She slipped her arm around his. “Still, I’m glad you told me. It makes me realize how miserable we’d make things for ourselves if we kept seeing each other, how miserable we’d make the lives of the people we love. Maybe—maybe we could just be friends.”
He let out a sad little laugh. “God, I think that would make me even more miserable, being with you just as friends and nothing more.”
“Me, too,” she sighed. “I don’t know why I said it.”
He turned toward her and touched her cheek. “I need to get home, I guess.”
She nodded.
He couldn’t help it. He had to kiss her. When his lips met hers, Dylan forgot for a moment about everything else—including all the advice she’d just given him. She was kissing him back. He hadn’t felt this way before about anyone. He couldn’t let this be a good-bye kiss. He had to see her again.
Brooke pulled away for a moment. But then her arms moved around him and she pulled him closer. “We’re going to end up paying for this. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know, I know,” he whispered. And then he hungrily pressed his mouth against hers once more.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thursday, September 27—7:16 A.M.
“Did anyone borrow my eye drops?” Sheila asked. As usual, nobody paid any attention to her. Steve and Gabe sat in the kitchen’s dinette booth with Dylan, eating their pancakes. The Today show was on the small TV. Hannah had just rushed in to grab a Diet Coke out of the fridge. She’d drink it while wolfing down a Special K bar on her way out the door. Her ride to school, Jennifer, would be honking the horn any minute now. In her bathrobe, Sheila ate standing up—nine-grain toast and coffee. Everyone else was dressed and would be gone within five minutes—including Dylan, who started back at work today.
Eden slept in, her last chance to do so for a while because she started school tomorrow. Sheila would be alone with her for part of the day. Later in the morning, Sheila had her dance classes at the retirement home, so, for a while, Eden would have the house to herself. Dylan had given her a key.
Sheila hated to even ponder the possibilities. She imagined the girl taking inventory of the silver and china in the dining room and maybe, once again, all her jewelry. Eden might even invite her boyfriend over, the one who was supposed to be in Portland. He could search the entire house with her and help himself to whatever he wanted.
Sheila told herself she was being paranoid. After all, she hadn’t seen the boyfriend since Monday, so maybe he really was in Portland. Plus, Eden had actually been civil toward her last night. She’d cleaned up after making a special vegan dinner for herself—something with tofu that looked pretty disgusting. Dylan said she was settling in and making the bedroom hers. She’d hung some café curtains and put the new comforter on her bed, among other things. She’d mentioned that she wanted to shop for some posters in the Pike/Pine district. Sheila had offered to drop her off on the way to the retirement home this morning. So Eden really wouldn’t be alone in the house for very long. What harm could she do?
Still, Sheila didn’t want Eden home alone when the FedEx package arrived from March-Middleton Funeral Services. Though the package would be addressed to Eden, Sheila wanted to get her hands on it first so she could copy the names and addresses in the memorial service guest book. Afterwards, she’d give the package to Eden and pretend she’d opened it by mistake. It was sneaky and underhanded, but she needed to talk to Antonia’s friends. She needed to find out the truth about Antonia’s death and the daughter she’d left behind.
Besides, sometimes it was part of a mother’s—or stepmother’s—job to be sneaky and underhanded.
Dylan was in a positive mood this morning, despite having been exiled again last night to the old Star Wars sheets on Gabe’s bottom bunk. Maybe his upbeat attitude had something to do with getting back to work and his normal routine today. Or perhaps last night’s trip to the gym had helped.
At least one of them had gotten some sleep last night, Sheila thought. Thanks mostly to both of the bitches next door, Sheila had tossed and turned for hours. Trudy had had a bark-fest until about three in the morning. Sheila had figured her owner hadn’t been home for most of it because no one could have slept through that.
She’d woken up this morning looking and feeling like hell. When she’d reached into her medicine chest for the Visine, she hadn’t been able to find it. Yesterday morning, it had been in there—practically a new bottle, too. Of course, she’d immediately thought of Eden. But would the girl have gone into her medicine chest again, so soon after getting in trouble for doing it the night before?
Sheila had splashed some cold water on her tired, puffy eyes and figured she’d blend right in with the folks at the retirement home today.
She took her cranberry juice out of the refrigerator and poured the last of the sixty-ounce bottle into a glass. “I repeat,” she announced. “Did anyone borrow my Visine last night?”
“Not me,” Dylan answered. “You know I don’t use that stuff. It’s actually supposed to be bad for your eyes if you use it every day, hon.”
“Oh, really?” she replied sarcastically. “I think you might have mentioned that to me—only about two hundred times since we’ve been married. I happen to like my eye drops in the morning.”
“Visine cocktail!” Steve exclaimed.
Gabe laughed. “Wedding Crashers!”
“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Sheila asked Dylan.
He just slurped his coffee and shrugged.
She heard a car horn. It was Hannah’s ride to school. Steve went to the same high school but took the bus.
“See ya!” Hannah said, heading out of the kitchen with her backpack, her Diet Coke, and her Special K bar.
“Think I can get a ride with you and your cool friends?” Steve called, razzing her.
“Yeah, right!” Sheila heard Hannah reply. Then the front door slammed.
“Steve, I don’t believe hell has frozen over yet,” Dylan said.
They ate in silence and watched the Today show.
Sheila took her vitamins and chased them down with the cranberry juice. The juice tasted a little funny. But she figured that was because it came from the bottom of the container.
She drank it all, finishing the glass.
*
By 10:15, Sheila felt the lack of sleep catching up with her. Or perhaps she just needed her Visine, because her eyes hurt and her vision was a bit blurry. She was okay to drive, but at practically every stoplight, she took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes.
&nb
sp; Sitting in the passenger seat, Eden didn’t seem to notice. She had her earbuds in and was staring at her phone for most of the car ride. She did, however, notice one thing as they approached the Pike/Pine area. “God, it’s so hot in this car! I’m, like, suffocating, aren’t you?”
Actually, Sheila was freezing. She’d been getting chills all morning. Still, she turned down the car heater for her stepdaughter. She figured she could endure it for another few minutes until she dropped Eden off. Then she’d crank the heat back up. She’d probably feel better once she got to the Summit Park Retirement Home. The thermostat there was always set at about eighty degrees, and despite the staggering heat, most residents wore sweaters. Yes, she was going to fit right in with her elderly friends today.
She pulled up to a loading zone in front of a grungy used-record store that Eden claimed had good posters.
Eden opened her door and then stopped to squint at her. “Y’know, you don’t look so hot.”
“Well, thanks,” Sheila said with a jaded smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Anyway, I’ll see you back home around three. Don’t forget, the number 49 practically takes you right there.”
Eden nodded. “Yeah, I know, thanks.” She climbed out of the car and shut the door.
Sheila realized that Eden indeed knew about the bus. The number 49 was where Sheila had encountered her new stepdaughter’s awful boyfriend.
Pulling back into traffic, she turned up the heat again.
*
To the beat of Bobby Darin’s “Mack the Knife,” Sheila led twenty-seven senior citizens in her Sit Down and Dance session in the lounge at the retirement home. The class occupied two rows of chairs in a semicircle. Sheila sat in front of them in an armless swivel chair. The class was geared for the more sedentary residents. For this session, Sheila was like a geriatric aerobics instructor: sitting there, raising her arms over her head, left, then right, and then a little jazz hands followed by some light kicks, left and right—all set to music and Sheila’s vocal encouragement. No one ever had to leave their chairs. The residents had similar lessons three times a week from someone who called himself Mr. Lyle. But apparently, the group didn’t enjoy the sessions with Mr. Lyle much. “Lyle plays this Lawrence Welk garbage,” one of Sheila’s favorite residents, “eighty-six years young” Estelle, had confided a while back. “I mean, please. My parents listened to that. I knew I liked you the minute you played Fats Domino.”
The Betrayed Wife Page 18
