The smile disappeared. “Amy, I’m sorry. I thought you were just happy to live the way we were living. You upstairs watching sappy movies about love and reading all those books beside your bed. I’ve got to tell you, Amy, life isn’t tied up in a neat bow, like those stupid movies would have you believe. People have to work hard.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “At times I thought I was going to combust or go out of my mind. How many weekends could I endure going to the grocery store with you and want more to go and do something different? How many nights could I sit alone on the couch and watch the same crap on television? It seems like I fell asleep more there than I did in my own bed. Just to wake up the next day and do it all over again. That’s not the guy I felt I was inside.” He tapped his chest.
“Oh, I see. You weren’t that guy? I’m sorry, I must’ve never been introduced to the guy inside you. You know, the one you felt was tied up and gagged? Who exactly did I marry, Wesley? Were you playing that guy because you thought I liked him? I liked the lie you were living more than the guy you really were? Exactly who was that, anyway?”
“It was me, Amy.” He banged his head on the back headrest. “I guess I just wanted to step out of our comfort zone and experience more life. Go out more, party, be wild and crazy.”
“You’re describing fraternity life. We joined the real world when we graduated from college and got married, Wesley.”
“I know that, but we weren’t doing anything spontaneous anymore. And I don’t mean checking out the new farmers’ market in the village at six o’clock in the morning on Saturday. I mean something like me picking you up from work on a Friday evening and jetting down to a beach in California. Surfing in the day and lying around a campfire at night, staring at the stars.”
“That sounds like a movie, not real life.” I adjusted the seat belt from cutting into my neck and looked away from him. How absurd.
“Life is what you make it, Amy. We don’t have any kids. Why couldn’t we just take off somewhere?”
“We were trying to save for me a new car, Wesley, and you one of those gas weed whackers for the backyard. We were going to make a koi pond after we got it all cleaned up back there.”
“Maybe I didn’t want a koi pond. All it is is something to clean and look after, Amy. I’d rather go to the wine country, taste a few dozen types, sleep at the inns and eat fancy meals, barely making it to work by Monday. Have something new to tell the guys, something other than the new bedsheets we found at Bed, Bath and Beyond.”
Why was this all a shock to me? I didn’t feel as if I knew the guy I had shared a same house with. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t feel like it’d do me any good. You’d just roll your eyes and tell me it was all right to go out with the guys once in a while. Have a little fun and come back at a reasonable time on Saturday night.” He turned his head and looked out his window. “I wanted spontaneous with you. But that’s not who you are.”
I felt my insides give me hints that a breakdown was about to take place. My stomach was sputtering and I got that stupid smell of ammonia in my nose. This was not the best time to be dropping by a visit to my emotional self. His little “mystery man” self could just stay trapped on his inside and not bring up any more moot points. My palms began to sweat.
“Do you think I’m a prude? That I wouldn’t have cared?”
“Honestly?” He took his eyes off the road again and looked at me with his tortured brown eyes. “No, I didn’t think you cared.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It hurt. But my feelings were hurt more. “I did care, Wesley. You were my husband. Of course I wanted you to be happy. That’s why I bought that lingerie. That’s why I spent the first week you were in a coma trying to change my wardrobe and makeup to be someone you’d stay with when you woke up. Only I learned too late that none of that mattered. You’d found someone else.”
“So did you.”
All that could be heard was the tires cutting through the dirt road. They finally stopped and he put the Jeep in park. We were there. And not a minute too soon. I’d broken up with my boyfriend, hashed out all that was wrong with my marriage, and my wrist still felt numb from the lack of blood flow for the last few hours I’d slept on it. I’d never survive past the turkey and stuffing the next day offered at this rate.
He turned off the ignition and looked over at me. I didn’t want to return his stare but it would’ve made for an awkward trip if we’d stopped talking. We were there to convince everyone we were happily married, right?
“What?” I gave him the blankest stare I could conjure.
“We screwed up, didn’t we?”
“Royally. Now let’s go and pretend we didn’t, and get you your money, shall we?”
I needed to keep it light. I couldn’t have a bunch of reflection hanging around. As far as I was concerned, our marriage was already in the ground and a tombstone had marked it finished. I didn’t want to dissect it now. Onward, Amy.
Chapter Five
Margaret met us at the door. She and Jeff always tried to beat us to get the master bedroom. It was Wesley’s dad’s cabin, for goodness’ sakes. But ever since Mr. Whitfield’s death, Jeff Tillion thought it should go to the next in line. And that would be him.
“Come on in, you two. You’ll drown out there.”
She stood back from the opened front door and ushered us inside. I wiped the mass of wet hair that clung to my forehead and scraped the inside of my left eye in doing so. Wesley carried in all our bags and dropped them on the front Aztec pattern rug. I swung my shoulder bag off and looked around. Nothing had changed since the last time we were there. At least with the cabin. Its rustic charm with logs for walls and the deer antler light fixture hovering over the open living room were all very much the same. It was Wesley and me who were different. Now just not to show it.
“How were the roads?” Margaret picked up a few stray leaves I’d managed to bring in on my wet shoes. “I told the others you might’ve gotten washed away on that last one to the house.”
“Not in my Jeep,” Wesley gloated. As if he were the one who put the thing together, bolt by bolt. He drove the thing, whoopty doo. Stupid Jeep.
“Others?” I asked, suddenly feeling outnumbered.
“Of course, dear.” She always spoke to me as if she were my mother. And although she was made like that—blouses and cardigans, molded hairdo, and a string of pearls around her neck—I always thought she had been a little too friendly with my dad. Buttering his toast in the morning, washing his dirty clothes and ironing them before Mom could. “Claire and Nick are in the room over by the blue-themed bathroom and, well, we brought Tyler.”
I saw where she half-heartedly motioned. Her son Tyler sat on the sofa in the oversized living space, staring at the television. Some documentary about war, it looked like. Lots of army men and tanks. Someone droning on in the background about artillery and manpower. He didn’t once turn to see the commotion we were making.
“I guess I’ll take these to our room, Amy.” Wesley smiled and toted the luggage up the stairs. He’d only brought a duffel bag so there wasn’t too much to carry. Still, it left me with Margaret and my uneasiness that I was sure I wore like a blinking neon sign.
“So where’s Claire and Nick?”
Claire and Nick were staples at every function, and now that their kids were all old enough and staying away from home, they joined the annual Thanksgiving retreat. Nick was a partner in the law firm. He was a goofy guy, shy by nature, but always telling bad jokes, and Claire was always doing an eye roll and over-compensating for his delinquency. She was a professional buffer for any and all situations. When she was around, I felt as though a tiny security blanket lived and breathed.
“They went out to get some last-minute things I needed.” She scurried to the table that sat squarely beneath the dining room light in the shape of a rooster, straightening out the tablecloth. “I swear, I’m so absent-minded nowadays. Can you be
lieve I’d forget stick butter? How could I possibly make stuffing—or anything for that matter—without butter?”
“I can see it. You have a lot on your mind. It’s not easy toting all the groceries for a feast up here. Wesley and I could’ve helped.” Well, not really, but it sounded empathic all the same.
I looked over to the sofa. There Jeff lay, feet up in the leather recliner and one hand in the front of his pants, sleeping away. Must have been all the action from his son’s choice of television viewing or the fact he worked night and day, six days a week. Either way, he seemed very unconcerned about the butter crisis.
“Anyway, tell me how you’ve been. I haven’t gotten to see much of you at all this past summer. Mostly because I was away.” She looked out toward the sofa before she signaled me to follow her through the swinging cafe door to the kitchen. She lowered her voice. “I’ve had a lot to deal with. And among all the woes, I had damage control to maintain. I’m sure you heard.”
“No.” I grabbed a paper towel to squeeze the water from my hair. “After Wesley’s accident, I really felt out of the loop. It took so long to get back to normal.”
She grabbed her mouth. “Right! What was I thinking? Sure you were. Out of the loop, that is. I know, because I was too.” She took a slice of apple she must’ve been cutting before we arrived. A loud crunch came when she bit down on it. A little juice dribbled down her chin and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “I’m not sure you know then, but Tyler’s wife left him.”
“Oh my gosh!” My jaw dropped before I could catch it. I’d gone to their wedding. Another fairy-tale one that wasn’t my own. They had it at the country club. A white limousine dropped them off from the church, where all the little flower girls wore lavender and their golden retriever had carried their rings on its back to the altar. It was simply magical. And the bubbles. Yes, I remember now. Everyone blew bubbles when they left. They stood up through the sunroof of that white limo and he kissed her passionately, announcing to everyone this was the love of his life. I think I saw every bleached white tooth in his mouth when he exclaimed it.
“What happened?”
She wiped up the apple peeling with a napkin and took it over to the trashcan. “I don’t know. After he didn’t answer my call for days, I drove to his house and found him in his living room, sitting on the floor in a stupor. The place was a complete mess. He was a complete mess. Hadn’t eaten for days, hadn’t showered either.” She stared off in the distance, one hand on her mouth while her head shook back and forth. “All he says is she’s coming back. I’ve tried to get him to counseling. Anything. He’s been living with me and Jeff for going on two months now. His house is in foreclosure because Janet quit paying the mortgage.”
Just then Wesley walked in. “Everything all right?”
He must’ve seen the shock that was stuck on my face like wet toilet paper. “Yeah, sure.”
“Jeff is really out. He’s snoring out there.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough week for him at work. I hope he can unwind a little bit here at the cabin. Away from the incessant phone calls from clients and associates. He needs to distance himself from all that worry. It’s not good for his health.”
“Have you all had lunch?” He looked at Margaret.
“Just snacks. There’s some granola and a few bags of chips in the cabinets. The other things I have to cook. Dinner will be ready at around five.”
My stomach was not happy with the thought it might get a nut tossed into it. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I feel there ought to be some type of starving ritual when breaking up with someone. Fasting for penance, or something like that. Who can think about food when the future you dreamed about—the person you dreamed about was soon going to be boarding a plane and flying out of your life? To Chicago.
“Amy, do you want to go to the general store and see if we can get a sandwich? I’m starving.” Wesley rubbed his stomach when he made the suggestion.
It did sound appetizing. It’s a mom-and-pop shop where the family all pitches in and does everything from running the cash register to doing short order for the small colony of people who live by the lake. A ham and cheese wouldn’t seem as though I was indulging, would it?
“Sure.”
“Hold on a minute.” He came very close to my face and reached out to touch it. I slightly flinched. “Wait, you have a scratch beside your eye.”
He ran his fingers over it with a most peculiar look of care in his eyes. My wounded heart softened for just a second. “I think I did it just a moment ago when we came inside.”
“Does it hurt?” He was now looking into my eyes. I remembered those eyes from years ago. The eyes of the guy I thought I was madly in love with. There was still mystery in those eyes.
“Nah.” That’s all I could conjure up to say. Nah. What else could I do? He stood too close. Closer than a pending divorce partner should. Wielding care and wafting cologne into my nostrils. Cologne I was familiar with smelling on him. Woods, I think it was. He kept it by the sink and sprayed it on every morning before work. And yes, I noticed his haircut. Just the length I always liked. Don’t get me started on the J. Crew sweater. Blue…really? My favorite color on the guy? Where had the wrinkly castaway gone to who showed up on my doorstep just a few days before?
“How about that sandwich?”
“Okay.”
I waited until we made it to the car before addressing the whole “does it hurt” debacle. I was agreeing to stay there longer than just dinner for the selfish reason of avoiding Mark. The least Wesley could do was not care.
“What was that back there?” I asked accusingly.
He put the Jeep into gear and backed out of the driveway. “What?”
“Touching my face and acting like…well, touching my face.” I was exasperated with not being able to express myself more accurately. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I saw the change of weather in those brown eyes of his. No more groggy fog; it was sunshine and clear skies.
“It looked like it hurt. That’s all. Good grief, Ames. What’s up with the defense shield? You act like I’ve never touched you.”
“For the record, you didn’t. And now that we are pre-divorce, I don’t think it’s appropriate. It gives the wrong impression.”
“But the impression is that we are married. Don’t you remember?”
Crap. He had me there. But seriously. If he wanted it to be believable, we could act like last year and I’d play cards with Margaret at the table while Wesley shot pool with Jeff and Nick. Then I’d retire early to bed and fall asleep reading a book and Wesley would climb into bed late, smelling like cigar smoke and brandy. Touching would certainly raise some eyebrows if he didn’t knock it off.
“Last year we didn’t touch, Wesley.”
“And that’s probably why we’re pre-divorce, as you call it.”
“Not that I want to split hairs, but I think a little thing called Violet is why we’re pre-divorce.” I had to do it. I had to get the dig in.
“Amy.” He could say my name to mean a plethora of things. In this case, it was coming at me with both barrels loaded.
“Just sayin’.” I probably wouldn’t bring it up again, but you never know.
We pulled into the general store and already my mouth was salivating. Ham and cheese going down in t minus five minutes. “Hey look, isn’t that Jim and Natalie?”
Jim Huntington. Moved from private school to the public school in our freshman year of high school. And it didn’t take until the time he was senior to get atrociously cute; he moved there that way. Brown hair with hints of golden honey running through it, light eyes, and one naughty smile to boot. His jock card was full with cheerleaders, a new one every season.
His family was disastrously rich. As soon as he got his driver’s license, Jim drove a convertible Jag to school. All the girls drooled over him and Wesley couldn’t stand him. Something about guys and their turfs. Wesley was the quarterback and Jim was all-star on t
he basketball team. It was pretty well known that you never invited both of them to your party or someone wouldn’t come out alive. People rotated invitations when it came to those two.
Natalie was another story. She had Ashley beat with the guy catcalls. Maybe because she gave out more than Ashley. I never knew that blonde tart to have a relationship that lasted longer than a weekend. I heard she was now a realtor. She probably sells more than home warranties to sweeten the deal to closing. Lest we forget her curvy body and red bombshell lip color.
“Let’s wait in the car until they’re gone.”
“Oh Wesley. Jim is a really good guy. I haven’t seen him in ages. I want to say hello.” I got the privilege to tutor him in calculus one year so he could remain on the team. His bad boy persona was actually a facade. I got to see the real guy. One who liked photography and who would talk nonstop about one day working for National Geographic.
I grabbed my bag and swung open the door. “You occupy Natalie for me. I can’t stand that girl.” I smiled devilishly over my shoulder. “Who knows, maybe you two could hook up. You know, during our post-divorce.”
I didn’t wait for his comeback. Jim had already spotted me and was on his way over to greet me. Yep, still had that charm that circled around him like a shiny ring. Two buttons open on the baby-blue polo shirt, hair groomed as though he’d just stepped out of a barbershop, and that infectious smile. Like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. It had a way of making you forget whatever was on your mind three seconds ago.
“Amy! What the hell? What are you doing up here?” He grabbed and pulled me tight to his chest…his very toned chest. I could smell the fabric softener in his shirt.
“I’m here…well, we’re here for our annual Thanksgiving retreat. You know, with Wesley’s law firm or other.” It was hard to explain. Although, last year I’d bumped into Jim at the market down the road and had told him the same thing. I had been scouring for cranberry jelly and he was buying seven six-packs of beer. One of the young stock boys had to help him out to his car with his loot.
Leaving Amy (Amy #2) Page 5
