The Years Between Us
Page 19
She allows a small laugh. “What does it matter now who knows?” She leans in closer to me, a devious look in her eyes. “I’ve been screwing that boy silly since he came back for the summer.”
“What?” I let out a breath, shocked, wondering if I’d misheard. “You and David?”
“Don’t look so disgusted, Claudia.” She pulls back. “It’s not any different than what you and Luke are doing, and I’m two years younger than Luke. It’s just sex and not very good sex if I’m being honest.”
“But Rhonda’s your friend—does she know?” I’m still somewhat disbelieving.
“Rhonda only knows what she wants to about her son. She’s a wonderful woman, but she’s clueless when it comes to that boy. I, however, am not. I know what makes people tick, and I’ll tell you now that David might have been having sex with me, but he was obsessed with you. It felt good telling him that I’d seen you kissing Luke because he went through the roof, and I was done with him right then and there. I should have known to never ask a boy to do a man’s job.”
The secrets keep coming, and I’m left reeling. Any guy would be lucky to be with a woman as beautiful as Emily, but I’m having a hard time imagining her wanting to be with David... ever. I guess it was only sex, but her use of the word “obsessed” to describe David’s feelings toward me is frightening.
“He’s not obsessed anymore, is he?” All I’d ever wanted from David was to be left alone by him.
“Hell if I know. He called once, sniffing around out of desperation, but I’ve already taken up with a man down in Ellensburg, a ranch owner who knows his way around the bedroom a hell of a lot better than David ever did.”
I put my hand up. I really don’t want to hear any more. “So, does this chat mean that we’re good… that you aren’t going to try to hurt me and Luke?”
“I’m past that… yes.” She straightens again, a proud look in her eyes. “I’m not completely self-focused, you know? And perhaps I just wanted to be sure and warn you, woman to woman, to be very careful.”
“I will be,” I say in appeasement, ready to get up and get the hell out of here.
“Rhonda thinks you might be pregnant,” she says as I turn to leave.
My skin goes cold, and my body freezes.
“Nothing to say about that?” Another small laugh.
“It’s not really any of your business,” I snap, thinking she’d gone from friend to enemy again.
“No, of course not. Everyone will know eventually if you are—you can’t hide something like that unless you ship yourself off for nine months, but you should be careful. Luke is a complicated man, and while I’m sure his love for you is real, I’d hate to see you end up as a replacement, both you and that potential baby of yours, for things that he’s lost but can’t fully let go of.”
I don’t want to hear any more of this. I can’t hear any more of it.
“I’m going.” I’ve taken maybe one sip of my tea, but I just let it sit there on the table.
“Think about what I’ve said. One must be careful.”
“Yes, that should go for you too,” I tell her walking to my cart, “because I’m sure Rhonda would hate to know her friend had been sleeping with her son.”
Emily grins, stands up and puts her basket over her arm. “Well, with that attitude, you might just be fine after all.” And before I can even push my cart away, she’s gone, walking toward the front of the store, her heels clicking against the tile floor.
I’m more upset than I probably should be that Rhonda suspects I’m pregnant. I guess it’s because I can’t help but think it would be disappointing to her, to see a young woman with promise get knocked up with a guy she’s known for such a short time. But then again, Rhonda might be used to disappointment considering her son has been sleeping with one of her best friends for the past couple of months. I’m not immune to the hypocrisy in me thinking how awful David having sex with Emily is since I’ve been doing the same thing with my best friend’s dad. But at least I hadn’t been chasing after someone else while I’d been doing it. If David had actually been a nice guy… if I’d actually liked him, then this entire thing with him and Emily would have really hurt.
But the only thing that could hurt me now would be some inescapable truth about Luke that would make our relationship untenable. While I hadn’t really wanted to hear the specifics of Emily and Luke’s time together or even why she’d decided to make things difficult for us, I’ve gotten over that part of it pretty quick and mostly put it out of my mind. It’s what she said about Luke and his ex-wife that sticks, the thing about me and our unborn child being a replacement for what… Isabelle and Danielle? It’s a terrifying thought, that Luke might not see me as my own person but some reincarnation of what he used to have, what he still can’t fully let go of.
When I pull up to the house, I consider just putting it out there and talking to him about it, even though I know he’s knee deep in work stuff as well as his continued worry about his daughter. But what if Emily is wrong? What if she bared her soul to me just to get me to trust her, to get me to listen to her? If she really wanted to get back at Luke, that might be the best way to do it, to cultivate a mistrust in me and for Luke to see it.
By the time I’ve brought the groceries in, everything about running into Emily has given me an enormous headache, and I don’t even want to make dinner the way I’d planned.
“Hey, babe.”
I startle at Luke’s touch, his hands suddenly on my shoulders.
“I didn’t hear you come down,” I say.
“Apparently not. Did I scare you?” He turns me around, and I still see the same, beautiful, gorgeous Luke in front of me with eyes that make me melt, make me want to do anything for him, make me want to be connected to him forever. But damn if I don’t also see something darker in them now, that connection to his past that I’m afraid he can’t let go of, that I’m afraid might doom us.
“I’m really not feeling well,” I tell him, looking away and easing out of his embrace.
“Is it the baby?” He cups his hands along my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.
“No… no… that’s all fine. I’m just kind of exhausted.”
He looks hurt, like he knows I’m not being forthcoming with him. “Okay,” he says, allowing his hands to slide away from my cheeks. “Can I get you something? You have to eat, you know.”
“Can it be later?” I pull away and start to put the groceries into the cupboards.
“I can do that. You go upstairs and get some sleep. I’ll check on you in a while, okay?”
I nod, appreciative. “Thank you, Luke.”
“Of course.” His smile is slight but real, and I do at least give him a quick kiss on the lips before I run upstairs.
It does feel good to slip out of my clothes and into the softness of his bed. Under the sheets and the comforter, I close my eyes. I’ve always felt so safe and loved here by Luke, like being with him was the very best thing for me. But what if I’m wrong? What if who I am and who I’ve always wanted to be gets absorbed into this life I hadn’t imagined myself having until I was older, until I felt it was time to settle down? And what will happen if Luke keeps going back to Isabelle time and again? As I drift slowly off to sleep, I can’t help but to worry that, because of her, he won’t be there for me when I really need him.
Chapter Thirty-One
LUKE
Even as I drive to Seattle, getting closer to my past, I know that I’m neglecting my present and my future with Claudia. She’d been upset the other night, and I tried to tell myself it was just about being pregnant, being tired, maybe just wanting some time to herself to forget she’s having to lie to her parents about us and that her relationship with my daughter is damaged and may never be the same again.
But I think it’s more than that. She’d mentioned Isabelle when I’d gone to check on her the night she hadn’t been feeling well. She was half asleep at the time, so she’d obviously been thinking about m
y ex-wife. After working for a couple more hours, I’d gotten into bed and held her, as if just doing that would let Claudia know she was going to come first for me, even if it meant making some difficult choices with Isabelle.
What I’m hoping, as I pull into the parking lot of the step-down facility Isabelle is now at, is that those choices won’t be so hard. My ex-wife has been getting better and is requiring less care. This facility isn’t locked and is more about preparing patients for life after hospitalization, how to cope with day-to-day stressors and seek out help before things get too bad. Isabelle has been in this very same facility before, twice actually, but they do say the third time is the charm, and that’s what I’m hoping for.
However, once I’ve locked up my truck and am making my way through the lot, I notice a garish black sedan with tinted windows, and my stomach drops.
It’s not that I don’t think her current husband should be seeing Isabelle, it’s that he should have been seeing her while she was in the hospital. Or better yet, he shouldn’t have pushed her to the edge he’s so good at doing, the edge that sets her off, makes her drink, makes her suicidal, basically gets her dragged off in an ambulance to their local hospital at the coast until I hear about it and get her the best care I can in Seattle.
Steeling myself for a possible confrontation, I make my way to her room. Maybe today will be the day I can finally talk some sense into him or at least convince Isabelle to stop hanging every last bit of hope she has on a man who has only disappointed her, time and time again.
“I’m going to recreate this wonderful dish they make here for you, honey,” Isabelle says as I stand at the door to her room, her voice animated and her attention focused on the husband I can’t see yet. “It’s this layered lasagna that is so delicious—I swear, it must have at least ten different kinds of cheeses!”
I knock, and Isabelle turns her head to me.
“Oh… Luke? I wasn’t expecting you.” Her disappointment is obvious.
“Might I come in?”
She shrugs, and I enter, coming around the corner to see her husband, Gabe, sitting in a chair and picking at his fingernails. He barely looks up at me.
“You have company,” I say to her, then turn to Gabe. “You finally decided to make it, I see.”
He’s changed since the last time I’d seen him a year, maybe even two, ago. There is gray in his curly brown hair now, and it looks like he’s dropped some weight, and not in a good way. And while faint, I smell nicotine, which means he’s probably taken up smoking again, an old habit of his that had died hard and apparently been resurrected.
He clears his throat. “You know how busy I am, Luke. It’s a good two to three hour drive from the coast.”
I want to laugh at that. Gabe busy? He’s an artist, a painter, and not a very good one, though his pictures do sell in some of the galleries in the tourist towns dotting the coast. He’s also an alcoholic, a womanizer and a man who will sometimes disappear for weeks at a time. And for some inexplicable reason, Isabelle is head over heels in love with him and has been for years.
“It would be better for her if you came more often, if you were a part of her recovery.” I might as well be talking to myself in telling him this for as much as he’ll take it to heart. But I figure it’s better that than to stand here and list off all of his shortcomings, upset Isabelle and have him storm out of here and send her into another tailspin.
“Oh, I’d love it if you’d come more often, my love,” she says to Gabe.
“I’ve been in a period of creativity,” he tells her, loading up his excuse. “Every day, I’ve felt the need to create. I’ve done thirteen paintings while you’ve been away, Bells. I couldn’t interrupt that, now could I?” He stands and walks over to her, putting his hand on her forehead like she’s a dog.
And it infuriates me.
“Has your ‘period of creativity’ burned out now?” That’s why he’s here. He’s decided he finally misses her, that his paintings and his other women are only distractions and that he has to return to his original muse until he gets tired of her again.
“You know the process ebbs and flows,” he tells me with no hint of shame. “At the moment, I’m sapped, and I need Isabelle to recharge me. Tell me, Bells, how many paintings should I do of you when I get you home?” He pulls his hand away from her head and sits next to her on the narrow bed.
“Oh… as many as you please… an infinitesimal amount, my love.”
“Infinitesimal? That would be challenging, even for me, but what artist doesn’t love a good challenge?” He wraps his arm around her, a smug look of winning on his face, and she just melts into him, her body fully relaxing, her expression one of pure contentment.
I once thought that Isabelle would follow Gabe to the ends of the earth just to be with him, but I’ve come to realize she’d not only follow him, but she’d jump off that edge, even alone if he asked her to.
“Isabelle.” I clear my throat. “Isabelle.” I have to say her name that second time for her to notice, for her to turn her head away from the man who can do no wrong in her eyes.
“Yes?” she asks, barely looking at me.
“Dr. Franklin has been working with the staff here and says you should be able to go back home in a few days, but he wants you to work on your safety plan, you know… so you can focus on something positive when you’re upset and tempted to drink or to hurt yourself.”
“Yes… I know. I’ve been doing just what he’s been telling me to do,” she says as though I’ve insulted her with my reminder.
I look at Gabe. “She needs to follow the safety plan, and you need to help her.” My voice is stern, my eyes surely angry. Speaking to him is like talking to a spoiled child.
“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. “She’ll come home with a sheet of paper full of instructions. We’ll do our best.”
His best has proven not to be enough, and I have no illusions it will be different this time.
“Danielle is on a vacation with Carlos,” I say, switching gears, hoping mentioning her daughter will remind Isabelle of the most important reason for her to remain healthy.
“Carlos?” she asks, barely looking at me while Gabe’s attention floats out the window.
“Her boyfriend from high school,” I remind her. “They reconnected this summer. They’re in California for a while, being tourists I suppose.” In truth, I don’t know where my daughter actually is. She could be in California or Nevada or Oregon or anywhere really. I don’t know, and I’m not pushing her to tell me until she’s ready.
“I hope she’s having fun,” Isabelle answers, and that’s it. There is no further request for information, no desire to see or talk to her daughter who she last briefly saw and barely talked to almost a year ago at WSU. And this settles it for me—I was right not to tell Dani about this latest relapse.
“I’m going to head back now,” I announce, inwardly fuming at the lack of these two caring for anything but themselves. “Let me know if you need anything, Izzy.”
She doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m going. She’s turned back to Gabe, being absorbed by him, and all he offers me is a slight nod.
Heading down the hallway, I ask myself why the hell I do this. Why do I keep spending money and resources and taking time away from my life to care for a woman who, half of the time, doesn’t even notice I’m here for her? Is keeping this shell of a woman around for Dani really worth it?
Behind me, there is the pounding of heavy feet on the tile floor and then a “hey” that I know is coming out of Gabe’s mouth.
I turn around, and he stops, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“What is it, Gabe?” I really just want to get out of here, and I’m not in the mood to listen to whatever bullshit he’s going to throw at me.
“Can we talk… outside? I could use the fresh air.” He looks down the hall toward Isabelle’s room. “This place if stifling.”
Of course it is.
We don’t speak a word to one another as we make our way out to the front of the building, the sun shining bright enough that I slide my sunglasses on.
“I guess I should thank you for what you do for Bells,” he says without looking at me. “You’ve got that brain thing going where you can keep everything together, like juggling eggs without breaking them.” He pulls out a cigarette and lights it and takes a drag. “But me?” he says then blows out a puff of smoke. “Shit, I just slide right into the zone… and if I came running every time Bells had a breakdown, I’d never get anything done.”
Fucking asshole.
“She has breakdowns because of you,” I tell him like it would do any good. “Best thing in the world you could do is divorce her and let her get help and move on.”
“You know she’d never do that.” He sucks another drag in off his cigarette.
“She might, and it would be better than you always driving her right to the edge and then abandoning her when she needs you the most. Why the hell do you do it, Gabe?”
Sometimes I wish he’d get angry, wish he’d show enough emotion to tell me he actually cares, but all he does is shrug. “Because I love her… and I can’t really let her go. That’s what it is. It’s fucked up, but that’s who we are. It’s our life.”
Man, I want to punch him. If it were possible to beat some sense into this guy, I would. We’d come to blows before, but it had only made it worse. It had only pushed Isabelle deeper into her sickness and her defense of him.
“If it wasn’t for Dani…” I begin, not sure he even deserves to hear my beautiful daughter’s name.
“What? You’d just let Bells die or something?” He drops his cigarette to the ground and smashes it with his boot. “She’s needs us both, man. That’s how it works. We love her in our own ways and get what else we need on the side.”
I ball my hands into fists. He has no clue.
“You don’t love her anymore?” he asks, likely seeing the rage in my eyes, even under my sunglasses.