Anyone but Him

by Theresa Linden

  Expression softening, he stepped toward me. “Zoë needed help. I went to talk her out of making a big mistake.”

  I shook my head, struggling to access more memories, not sure what to believe.

  “I told you already,” he whispered, closing the distance between us, “I don’t cheat on you.” With smoky eyes locked onto my face, he brushed his fingertips down my arm.

  Liking and hating the sensation from his touch, I twisted away from him. Too many questions filled my mind for me to trust him. “So, who stayed at the local hotel? I saw the charge from the Indian Fort Hotel on our credit card statement. Me? Needing a break from you? Or, let me guess...”

  He leaned a hip to the countertop and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, squirming as I spoke.

  “Another girl?”

  “Caitlyn, stop.” Head shaking, he rolled his eyes and sucked in a breath. “She needed help. It was your idea, you said—”

  “Oh? Was she pregnant?” At some point, I’d started smirking. He was such a louse. How many children did he have?

  “Not by me.” He stepped toward me again, so I darted to the other side of the island counter. “I don’t cheat on you.”

  Something in the way he said it gave me pause. Was he accusing me of cheating? But that wouldn’t be possible. No matter how miserable my marriage became, I would never cheat on my husband. Jarret had probably made the insinuation so he could get the attention off himself.

  “So, you’re just a pregnant-girl magnet?” I said.

  With a huff and another eye roll, he opened his mouth as if he had something to say. A full two seconds later, he said, “Why don’t you let me explain?” His hands shot up and out in an angry gesture that made me jump. “All of this, this was your idea. I’m a, uh, I’m a counselor. And so are you. We help troubled teens. We volunteer at the—”

  The doorbell rang.

  Jarret gave me a don’t try it look, and we both made a mad dash for the front door like a couple of kids after the last open swing on a playground.

  Heart thumping, I reached the door first. I wrapped my hand around the doorknob, but then he wrapped his hand around mine. His touch, slimy as a slug, slithered down my spine, so I slid my hand away and backed up.

  He opened the door only enough to see out. A cuss word escaped him. He gave me a glance and then stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re kidding me. What are you doing here?”

  The door clicked shut.

  CHAPTER 11

  I TRIED TO turn the front doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. Jarret must’ve held it. I peered through the peep hole but could only see the back of his head, so I slid behind the leather chair, adjusted the blinds, and peered out the front window. Except for Jarret’s car, the driveway was empty. And I couldn’t see who was standing on the front porch, but I spotted a black canvas suitcase. Was it a girl? Was it Heather?

  I pushed the window open slowly so as not to make any noise.

  “I don’t want your help,” Jarret said.

  “Why not?” The voice sounded like Roland’s.

  Heart pounding with hope, I lunged for the door and tried the knob again.

  “Open the door!” I pounded on it. Was it Roland? I tried to get a view from the front window again.

  “Let me stick around for a few days. I’ll try talking to—”

  “I don’t want you around. Don’t you get it? She thinks she’s eighteen. She hated me when she was eighteen. Didn’t she?”

  Roland gave no audible answer.

  “And she was in love with you. Wasn’t she?”

  Again, no audible reply.

  “All she remembers about me is what a bad a—”

  “Just let me talk to her.” Roland spoke over Jarret’s complaint. “I think I can help.”

  “You’re not gonna help. You’re gonna make things worse. I already have to explain why...”

  I turned without thinking and smacked into the back of the leather chair. Stumbling past it, I rushed for the patio doors. I squeezed around the chair at the end of the dinner table and yanked open the screen door a little too roughly. The screen door flew open, banged against its track, and slid back, hitting my arm as I escaped the house.

  The second I stepped outside, the smell of lilacs and the chatter of birds assailed my senses. A squirrel scampered off the patio table and over the railing, where it disappeared. Sunspots on the deck warmed my bare feet as I hurried to the backyard.

  Jarret was not going to send Roland away!

  I jogged through the cool grass along the shady side of the house and past flowering bushes in the front landscaping. Then I saw him, and an enormous weight lifted from my heart, rising and dissipating in the sunlight.

  Roland, my pale and handsome knight, stood on the porch with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his black jeans. His hair, dark and wavy, was shorter than I remembered. He shook his downcast head, then sighed and looked up at Jarret.

  Clutching the doorknob with one hand, Jarret waved his other arm as he ranted. Halfway across the yard, I could hear him. “Hell, she don’t even remember that we—” His gaze fell on me. He let his hand slide from the doorknob and shut his mouth.

  Roland turned. His gray eyes and thick dark brows had always conveyed the strength of steel and the gentleness of a dove. When he smiled, my heart melted. “Caitlyn!”

  I ran to him and fell into the safety of his arms. A rush of relief, love, and peace filled my troubled soul as I relished the feel of his arms around me and the scent of shampoo and freshly washed clothes. “You came.”

  “Oh, my God,” Jarret mumbled, defeat heavy in his voice.

  Stroking my hair with one hand, Roland held me tightly with the other. “Yeah, and maybe Jarret will let me stay for a visit.”

  Not wanting to release him, I turned my head to speak to Jarret. “Please, please, can he stay?”

  Jarret’s face twitched all over, his jaw, his mouth, his cheeks. He inhaled and held it. “If that’s what you want.” He said it without making eye contact and then flung open the front door and stomped inside.

  I paused and watched him go, a twinge of guilt teasing at my chest, then I took Roland’s hand and gave him my full attention. “Oh, I can’t believe you’re here. Let’s sit and talk.” Releasing his hand, I sat on the edge of the porch and dangled my legs over the landscaping.

  Roland stared solemnly at the door for a moment, then he tore his gaze from it and sat beside me. “How are you doing?”

  “Terrible.” I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. Just seeing him gave me comfort, but something about him seemed different too.

  “Jarret says you have amnesia.”

  I reached for the sore spot on my head and gingerly touched the bump. “Oh, tell me I’m not really married to him.”

  Roland bumped his shoulder against mine and gave me a sweet smile that stirred my feelings for him. “Now, Caitlyn, give him a chance. He’s different from when we were in high school.”

  I grabbed his hand. “That’s what he said. So when did he change?”

  Roland shrugged. “There was always some good in him.”

  “Struggling to get out,” I said and giggled.

  He smiled and bumped me again. Roland always found the good in others, like a prospector searching for gold or precious minerals. He had broken through the layers of willfulness, pride, and arrogance of Jarret’s outer crust and discovered something good and worthy of love. He had seen the flesh in Jarret’s heart of stone, the glimmer of light in his dark soul, the speck of goodness hidden by the fog of selfishness.

  I wished I had Roland’s gift. Maybe then I’d understand why I’d married Jarret, of all people.

  “What ever happened to us?” I searched Roland’s eyes, but he only shrugged. “I feel the same as I always have about you. When did my feelings for you change?”

  He stared across the street to where a car pulled into the driveway of a little ranch house that resemb
led Jarret’s house and the other six houses on the cul-de-sac street. He gave no answer.

  “Oh,” I said. “My feelings didn’t change. Yours did?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. If you think about it, if you really think hard and look into your heart, I think you’ll understand.”

  “Understand?”

  “Ever since we met in high school, we’ve been close friends. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a closer friend than you. But it just never went to the next level. Something was missing. We tried.” His emotionless tone said he spoke of ancient history.

  “But I do feel romantic about you.” Tears welled in my eyes.

  “Uh.” Roland glanced over his shoulder at the door and turned back with a pink face. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then grabbed my hand and rubbed it with his thumb. “I did too, Caitlyn, but we were better as friends. I didn’t end it.” He released my hand and ran both hands down his thighs.

  “I did?”

  “You told me about Ling-si.”

  “Ling-si?”

  “We met her our first year at SDU. She’s Chinese.”

  I giggled. “I figured, you know, with that name.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled and gave me his shy look. “We all became friends right away. It was as if we had known her for years. Then one day toward the end of our first year at college, you told me she liked me, said I should ask her out. Which I didn’t understand at first, because I always thought it was you and me. But you told me to look into my heart. You said I was your closest friend, and you weren’t interested in anyone else, but you didn’t think we were meant to be a couple. So, I thought about it for a few days, and I realized my feelings for Ling-si were different than my feelings for you.”

  Heart aching as if I’d just been dumped, I sniffled and tried not to let the tears escape. “Are you still seeing her?”

  He nodded. “I think we’ll get married someday.”

  “You do?” My heartache eased, and I felt a burst of happiness for him. “That’s wonderful, Roland. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  He gave me a funny look.

  “Again, I mean, or remember her. That would be better, I guess. I’d like to remember. I would really like to remember how I got myself into this... situation.” I was going to say mess but I didn’t want to offend Roland with my negative feelings for Jarret.

  Roland had always been defensive of Jarret no matter how Jarret treated him. When he came to school with bruises, he said he got them messing around. I suspected they came from Jarret. I knew for a fact that Jarret’s schemes had plunged Roland into trouble at home and at school, even causing him to serve hard detention time. But he never sought revenge. He wouldn’t even tell on Jarret. Roland was the real treasure. In those years of brotherly neglect and torture, where any other child would’ve hardened in anger and sought revenge, he had grown in patience and mercy. Any girl would be blessed to marry him.

  “Ling-si must be special.”

  He smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Yeah, Jarret’s probably seething,” I said.

  Tilting his head, Roland gave me a playful look. “Now, Caitlyn. Give him a chance.”

  I carried a black ceramic plate to the table and gazed through the patio doors. The cornflower blue, early evening sky and the lilac-scented breeze reflected the joy in my heart, the joy I’d felt ever since Roland arrived.

  Roland and Jarret talked together out on the deck, their voices traveling through the screen door.

  “I’ll handle this my own way.” Jarret faced the grill and flipped hamburgers with a long-handled spatula.

  “What’s your way?” Roland sat on the deck rail, a glass of water in his hand. “I mean, what’re you going to do? And, and why can’t I help?”

  Except for our brief conversation on the porch, I hadn’t spoken with Roland at all. He hung out in the weight room while Jarret worked out, then he watched him change the oil in his truck. When would he talk to me? He probably felt it necessary to tame Jarret first, to bring him around to his way of thinking.

  I could wait. Since Jarret wouldn’t let me go anywhere or do anything outside the house, all I had was time.

  Hugging the black plate to my chest, I studied the table. Roland would want the black plate. Where should I put it? The table seated eight. I had placed an orange plate on one end, for Jarret, and a blue plate on the other, for myself. Would Jarret let Roland sit next to me? Probably not. Unless... I set the black plate on one side of the blue plate and relocated the orange plate to the spot across from it. We could all sit together. I returned to the kitchen for silverware.

  The smell of charred hamburgers wafted into the house and Jarret uttered a curse. I glanced outside in time to see him do an arm-waving, hamburger-rescuing dance by the grill.

  Roland laughed and turned to look inside the house. Our gazes connected. I smiled. He smiled back, and my heart melted.

  “Look, I didn’t ask you to come here.” Jarret tossed the last hamburger onto a serving plate and turned a knob on the grill.

  “I know. But I think I can help. Why can’t you ever accept my help?”

  “Help?” He snorted. “You’re not gonna be any help. You’re making things worse.” Jarret glanced inside.

  I looked away.

  I arranged the condiments between the three plates and brought out the baked beans and potato chips. If only we had a vase for flowers. It would make the perfect finishing touch. I could clip some lilacs from the bush in the backyard. Nothing compared to the sweet scent of lilacs in bloom.

  Wanting to find a vase, I returned to the kitchen. If this were my house, where would I keep vases? I yanked open the cabinet under the sink and a bunch of plastic grocery bags fell out.

  The screen door slid open.

  “What’re you looking for?” Jarret set the burgers on the table and moved the black plate to the opposite end.

  I straightened. “Nothing.” I shoved the bags back under the sink, closed the cabinet door before they fell out again, and scurried to the end of the table. “I thought we could all sit together.” I snatched the black plate and placed it back where I wanted it.

  “That sounds nice.” He gave me a cocky grin.

  I flashed a fake smile. He huffed.

  Roland stepped inside and instinctively took the chair by the black plate. “Need help with anything?”

  “No,” Jarret said with finality. He sat at the head of the table, leaving me the place adjacent him and opposite Roland. Not exactly how I wanted it but oh well.

  I opened the bag of hamburger buns and put one on Roland’s plate. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “He knows where the refrigerator is.” Jarret spun his face to Roland, saying, “Grab me a Coke.”

  Roland popped up to do his bidding. Was I like that? Did I run to fulfill his every desire? Ugh.

  I took a bun for myself and set the bag by Jarret’s plate.

  “Nice.” He snatched the bag and got out his own bun.

  Roland returned with Jarret’s Coke, a glass of water, and an iced tea. “You still like iced tea?” He held it out to me.

  Flattered that he knew me so well, I smiled and took it.

  “Ni-i-ice.” Jarret narrowed his eyes at Roland. “So where do you plan on staying for your helpful visit?”

  “I thought—”

  “Can’t he stay here?” I had stabbed a hamburger with my fork and moved it toward my plate but ended up dropping it on the table.

  “Here?” Jarret’s glare deepened. “Are you...” He raised a brow at me. “... gonna let me sleep in our bed?”

  My mouth fell open and a wave of heat washed over me.

  “I didn’t think so. We only have one couch.”

  Roland shrugged. “I can sleep on the loveseat or on the floor. You have sleeping bags, don’t you? I don’t mind.”

  “That sounds great.” I inched forward on my seat and propped my elbows on the table. “Doesn’t it, dear?”

 
; “Great.” Jarret slumped back in his seat and exhaled like a deflating balloon.

  After saying grace, we ate without speaking, stealing furtive glances at one another.

  Roland broke the silence. “So, Caitlyn, what are some of the last things you remember?” Roland reached for the mustard at the same instant Jarret did. He backed off.

  “Don’t ask her that,” Jarret said, glaring. “Why would you ask her that?” He squirted mustard on his burger and set the bottle by me.

  “Well, I... why not? Why wouldn’t I ask her that?”

  “You,” I said in answer to Roland, while offering him the mustard. “I remember you.”

  His eyelids fluttered and his mouth wrapped around the word oh but it never became audible. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Jarret. He faced me again and accepted the mustard, but it took him a moment to get out his next question. He was probably trying to foresee the answer and Jarret’s response before he asked. “Have you checked out your photo albums or videos?”

  “We don’t have any videos,” Jarret said.

  “Jarret showed me the photo album with pictures from our wedding.” Peter’s poses in the photos came to mind, and my lips quivered as I suppressed a giggle.

  “That’s good. Right?” Roland gave Jarret a hope-filled look. “Did that help?”

  Jarret and I shook our heads, then exchanged a glance.

  “Don’t you have classes?” Jarret said to Roland. “You’re working on your bachelor’s degree. Quarter ain’t over yet, is it?”

  “Yes. No.” Roland brought his hamburger to his mouth but then returned it to his plate. The way Jarret glared at him probably had something to do with it. “We’re in the last two weeks. I’m getting A’s. I got permission. There’s stuff I can do on-line. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s his own business,” I said. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. Roland’s always been responsible. You just don’t want him here.”

  Jarret turned his hardened glare on me. “That’s right. I don’t. You’re my business, and I don’t want him messing things up for me.”

  “For you?” His selfishness amazed me. That, and his jealousy. He did nothing to hide it. Jealousy disgusted me. It showed insecurity, fear, weakness. Maybe that explained his obsession with weightlifting. He felt weak and had to prove his strength to himself, to others. No, I didn’t believe that. He didn’t feel weak. He simply knew the strength of my feelings for Roland, and he didn’t want to lose me.