Together, David and I found the email from Vintage Car Chick and forwarded it to Nadia, then we invited her, Jesse and Ellen to come for dinner the following weekend.
Nadia replied five minutes later to inform me that she had already spoken to her sister on the phone and Diana was eager to roll up her sleeves and get to work. Rather than accept our invitation to dinner, however, Nadia countered with the suggestion that we come to her home in Waltham for a barbeque to meet Diana and her husband Jacob—a cardiac surgeon who worked at Boston Mass, and incidentally had treated Nadia before her transplant. Nadia also mentioned that they had just installed a nifty play structure in the yard for Ellen, and they were keen to put it to good use.
David and I accepted her invitation and couldn’t wait to see where she lived. She had described her “blue house on the water” with great passion and affection.
I wanted to see it, because it was the place where a part of Alex now lived.
* * *
I’m not sure if Nadia asked her sister to make our case a top priority, but three days later I received an email from Diana directly. I read it as soon as I came home from work, then I called David right away.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, staring at the computer screen, tapping my foot under the table. “It looks like they found her.”
“You mean Carla?” he replied.
“Yes.”
Wendy was in the living room, bouncing around to The Wiggles again.
“My God,” David said. “Were they able to tell you anything about her?”
I took a deep breath as I read over the email for what felt like the hundredth time. “Her full name is Carla Christine Matthews. She lives in Boston and she’s a waitress, but does some acting on the side. Mostly theater, but she’s done some local commercials. She’s a single mom—no big surprise there—and takes her daughter to a neighbor’s house when she goes to work. All the information is right here, including her address, new email and phone number. There’s even a photograph. I’m forwarding it to you now.”
“Holy crap,” he said. “They sure work fast. What does she look like?”
I swallowed uneasily. “It’s hard to make out her features very well because the picture was taken from across a busy street and it’s just a profile shot. It looks like she’s walking fast, but I can tell her hair is blonde. I’d say she’s about my age.”
“Is her daughter with her?” David asked.
“No,” I replied. “She’s carrying grocery bags.”
David was quiet for a moment, and I moved to the kitchen doorway to check on Wendy, who was still dancing in the living room.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. What do you think I should do?”
He considered it. “That depends. Is this enough to satisfy your curiosity? Or do you want to meet her and find out if her daughter really does belong to Alex? If she is his child, it could complicate your life, not to mention open up a whole new can of worms in terms of child support from his estate.”
I sat down at the kitchen table. “I don’t care about that. I mean, I do care, but if she’s Alex’s daughter, that makes her Wendy’s half-sister. I just want to do the right thing.”
I ran my finger along a groove in the oak tabletop, waiting for David to say something. Then at last he spoke. “I admire you,” he said. “You’re a good person.”
A pleasant warmth moved through me. “Thank you.”
“And I know it’s going to be tough,” he continued, “but I want to help. I can come over if you want me to be there when you call, or I’ll go with you to meet her.”
“I think I’ll start by sending her an email,” I said.
“What are you going to say?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to figure that out when I start typing.”
Chapter Forty-six
As soon as I sat down to send an email to my late husband’s mistress, I found it surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I suppose, by that point, I just wanted to know the truth, and I believed I was getting close.
Dear Carla,
We’ve never met, but I think we may have something in common. My name is Audrey Fitzgerald and I was married to Alex Fitzgerald, a firefighter in Manchester, Connecticut who died on the job two years ago.
Recently I found a photo from a pregnancy ultrasound, and I think it may have been yours. I found it in the glove box of my husband’s car. Does the photo belong to you? Did you know my husband?
I know this is an awkward question to ask, and I only want to know the truth about your relationship with him. I mean you no harm. I would very much appreciate hearing from you. You can either reply to this email or call me at the number below. If you would like to meet in person, I would be happy to come to Boston.
Sincerely,
Audrey
I debated whether or not I should delete the word “happy” to describe my feelings about meeting her—which wasn’t entirely accurate—but I didn’t want to scare her off. I believed that a friendly, non-threatening approach would yield the best results.
As soon as I hit send, I rested my elbows on the table and steepled my fingers together in front of my lips while I stared intensely at the computer screen. I waited about thirty seconds, then reverted to the Inbox, but there were no new messages.
I puttered around on Facebook for a while and checked the weather, then returned to my email program and opened the Inbox again.
No new messages.
Letting out a deep breath, I reminded myself that a watched pot never boils, so I forced myself to get up and do something else.
* * *
A full twenty-four hours passed, and Carla Matthews did not respond to my email.
“What will I do if she doesn’t reply at all?” I asked David on the phone that night after I put Wendy to bed. “And how long should I wait?”
I dropped an herbal teabag into a mug and poured hot water over it.
“You could always try calling her,” he said, “or you could go to her house and knock on her door.”
I turned to stare at the pile of papers on top of the large manila envelope on the kitchen table. “According to the information from the PI, she lives in a high-rise apartment building with a security entrance. So that might be easier said than done. I could always go to the restaurant where she works, but I don’t know how she’d react. I’d hate to cause a scene in front of her boss.”
One thing was certain, however. I couldn’t just let it go. Not after coming this far. I needed to know if Alex had cheated on me, and if he was the father of another child. Did Wendy have a half-sister?
“Can I ask you something?” David said. “Last night you mentioned you wanted to do the right thing and you said it was important for you to know if Wendy had a half-sister, which I get. But if it turns out that she does, how are you going to handle that? Do you imagine you and Carla and your kids could become one big happy family?”
I carried my tea into the living room and sat down. “I don’t know. I’m still really angry with Alex. Though I’m trying to be level-headed about all this, I’m only human, and whenever I think about this woman with my husband, most of me wants to scratch her eyes out.”
David chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. I was starting to think you were superhuman, and that’s intimidating.”
I blew gently on my tea. “Nope. Not superhuman. Not by a long shot.” David stayed on the phone with me while I picked up the remote control and turned on the TV.
“What I really want to know,” I said, setting the remote down on the sofa cushion beside me, “are all the trashy details, like how long was the affair going on, and how did they meet? Was it a one-night stand and did she become like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction? Or was he actually in love with her? Was he planning to leave Wendy and me?”
Just then, the computer chimed, alerting me that an email had come in.
“Oh… I just got an email.” I
rose quickly from the sofa and went to check it out. “Please don’t let it be spam…”
I wiggled the mouse to turn on the screen light, and there it was—a personal reply from Carla Matthews.
“Oh my God,” I said. “It’s from her.”
“What does it say?” David asked. “Can you read it to me?”
“Yes.” I sat down with my tea. “Are you ready? Here goes…”
Chapter Forty-seven
Dear Audrey,
I was surprised to get your email, as I’m not sure how you found me. Alex made me promise not to contact you or any member of his family—though I believe he would have told you about me eventually—but when he died, I couldn’t bring myself to betray that request.
I was devastated when he was taken from us, as I’m sure you were as well, but it was very difficult for me because there was no one I could talk to about it. No one who actually knew him. None of my friends or family had ever met him.
I did attend his funeral, but I remained respectfully at the back of the church. I saw you and your daughter Wendy and I wished there was a way I could take away your pain. He was such a good man—the very best. Please accept my condolences for your loss.
I’m not sure where to go from here. Now that you’ve found me—and I’m so glad you did—it seems pointless to avoid meeting each other. We may have some difficult decisions to make about the future and whether or not to introduce my daughter Kaleigh to Alex’s family. Maybe we could talk about that.
If you would like to come here to see me, we could meet at my place. The address is below. Any day this week would be fine. I work most evenings, so if you are free in the day, that would be great. Let me know, and please bring your daughter. Alex told me so much about her. I would love to meet her!
Warmly,
Carla
“Good Lord!” I said, sitting back in my chair. “Is that not weird? She has no shame. She makes no apologies.”
“It is weird,” David agreed. “Are you sure you want to get involved with her? What if she turns out to be like Melanie? What if she wants to latch on to you and Alex’s family?”
I covered my cheeks with my hands. “What is that old saying? Let sleeping dogs lie? Maybe I should have just left it alone. What was I thinking? After getting my house burned down once, you’d think I would have learned my lesson.”
“Hang on,” David said. “At least you’ll get answers when you meet her, because she certainly seems willing to be open about everything. And if you don’t want to have any further contact with her afterward, you can make that clear. She’s respected Alex’s wishes for the past two years. That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah. But she came to his funeral,” I mentioned. “She was there in the back of the church watching Wendy and me. That kind of creeps me out.”
“Well, you can’t fault her for attending,” David said, gently reminding me to be sensible. “Obviously she cared for Alex, and at least she sat at the back. She didn’t try to horn in. That tells us she has some degree of self-restraint.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I replied. “But I don’t know about bringing Wendy. I think I need to check her out first, make sure she’s not Glenn Close.”
David laughed. “Now, now. Glenn Close is supposedly a lovely woman in real life. But yes, it would be wise to do a recon mission first. And you shouldn’t go alone. I’ll come with you.”
A large amount of tension drained out of me and I felt my shoulders relax. “I’d appreciate that, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding me?” he replied. “I insist. Actually, I’m as curious as you are. I want to know the whole story.”
“Me, too.” I sat for a moment, taking it all in. “I’ll email her back right now. Can you tell me what days you’re free this week? Let’s hope our schedules match up.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he replied, “so let’s start with your schedule.”
I felt slightly breathless. “You’re awesome, you know.”
He chuckled. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Jean and Garry were wonderful, as always, about taking Wendy for the day on Thursday—and not asking questions about what I had planned—which allowed David and me to travel to Boston together alone.
He had GPS in his vehicle, so we found Carla’s apartment building without any trouble, but when we pulled over at the curb and he turned off the engine, I found myself glued to the seat.
“My heart’s pounding,” I said. “This is worse than public speaking.”
He reached for my hand, raised it to his lips and kept his eyes fixed on mine as he kissed it. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
The butterflies in my belly fluttered around, and I wasn’t sure if it was the touch of David’s lips or the situation as a whole that caused such a response in me. Either way, I was grateful to be with him now, when I so desperately needed a friend.
“What would I have done without you these past few weeks?” I asked, turning in my seat to face him. “You’ve been my rock.”
“And you’ve amazed me at every turn,” he replied. “Alex was a lucky man.”
Something intense flared through my veins and I knew in that instant that my feelings for David were moving quickly and steadily beyond mere friendship.
I couldn’t think about that now, however. I needed to stay focused on getting the answers I needed about my marriage.
“You say he was a lucky man,” I replied, “and yet…”
David laid a hand on my cheek. “If he cheated on you, it was his shortcoming, not yours. Don’t ever let yourself think otherwise.”
I nodded and finally felt ready to open the car door.
* * *
As we rode up ten floors in the elevator, all I could do was face forward in silence and watch the numbers blink on the display. Then bing! The doors slid open and it was time to step off.
I felt David’s hand on the small of my back, guiding me as we walked the length of the narrow carpeted hall.
“Here it is,” David said. “Are you ready?”
I nodded and he knocked on the door.
It swung open immediately, and there stood Carla, as if she had been listening for our footsteps all the way from the elevator.
She was strikingly beautiful with a tall, slim figure, clear skin, full lips, big brown eyes, and wavy honey-colored hair. I found myself staring at her in a foggy haze of disbelief.
Had this woman made love to my husband? Did she flirt with him and lure him away from his family? Did she not see the wedding ring? Was he even wearing it at their first meeting?
Anger welled up inside me, but I pushed it back down.
“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Carla. You must be Audrey.”
Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Her daughter—who looked to be about two years old—came barreling through to greet us with a smile.
“And this is Kaleigh,” Carla said.
As soon as I saw the child, I knew that she belonged to Alex. She had the same dark features and charismatic eyes. The realization knocked me off balance emotionally, and I was confused by my feelings.
Part of me wanted to scoop the child up into my arms and hug her tight.
Another part of me wanted to shake the daylights out of Alex. If only I could.
Carla swept her daughter close, up against her leg. Her smile was radiant and I was briefly mesmerized. This reaction was immediately followed by bitter, sour-tasting jealousy.
“This is my friend David,” I said, gesturing toward him.
“Oh yes.” Carla shook his hand as well. “Alex spoke highly of you. He showed me pictures and told me about your work, and how you were friends since high school.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” David said, and I suddenly found myself wishing I hadn’t brought him after all, because I half expected Carla to flirt with him, too.
She stepped aside to make room for us to enter. “Come on in.”
The layout of the place was standard for a high-rise apartment. The entry hall was narrow. There was a small kitchen to the left which opened to a modest-sized carpeted living room beyond.
David and I followed Carla and Kaleigh into the living room where she had a vegetable tray set out on the coffee table with a bowl of dip.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked. “I have juice, pop and coffee. Or would you like a beer, David?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I replied because I had no appetite.
David, however, said he’d love a glass of water.
While Carla went to fill it at the sink in the kitchen, he and I sat down on the sofa and exchanged glances. He gave my hand a squeeze.
Carla returned and set his water on the coffee table. “There you go.” Then she met my gaze as she took a seat in a facing chair. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you. I’ve wanted to talk to you for so long. It was hard not to contact you over the past two years, but I always forced myself to resist. I didn’t want to break my promise to Alex, but maybe he would have wanted me to…. I’m still not sure, but the fact that you found me makes me wonder if he did want that. Who knows?”
I swallowed over my disbelief. Was this really happening?
Little Kaleigh climbed up onto the sofa beside me and smiled. “You have pretty glasses,” she said.
I smiled in return. “Thank you.”
“She has a thing for the type of glasses you’re wearing,” Carla explained. “I don’t know why. Maybe she saw something on TV.”
Kaleigh continued to smile at me, and I was overcome by a perplexing mixture of emotions. She was an adorable little girl, and her eyes… They had the same spark as Alex’s. It was the same spark that had made me fall in love with him.
Which made me feel hurt and betrayed.
Shifting uneasily in my seat, I tried to focus on all the questions I wanted to ask. “So how did you meet Alex?”
Carla stared at me for a moment, as if confused. “Well…I can’t really remember the first time, I was too young…but in a way, I guess I’ve known him all my life.”
The Color of a Memory Page 14
