Locked Hearts

by D. Brown

  “I came back outside a few minutes later and looked for Diane. I didn’t see her. She wasn’t anywhere. No way she could have made it back to shore that fast. I was inside for just two minutes, three at the most.”

  He studied the waves slapping at the concrete seawall.

  “It could have been my imagination anyway. Thinking back, I can’t swear I saw anything at all; a splash or anything that might have told me Diane was in trouble. I didn’t see anything. One minute she was there, the next minute she’s gone. I started to call out for help, thinking something was wrong. I felt it in my gut that something was wrong. I knew she was in trouble. There were no lifeguards on the beach at the time so I was also the only one who saw her swimming out there. If she did go under, I was the only one who suspected it.”

  Tears pooled in Sam’s eyes and he smeared them away with the back of his hand.

  “I took off for the water, three strides, didn’t even make it across the yard, and then stopped. My screams for help caught in my throat. That’s when I remembered Frank Wiley, and what he said over the phone, “Hello beautiful. I can’t wait to see you.” I remembered every jealous suspicion confirmed by Frank answering my cell phone call.”

  “Hello beautiful,” Sam said with heavy bitterness in his voice.

  “I’m sure she had already made plans to sneak off into town and meet up with him sometime today. I was ready for the unexpected excuse to leave following her shower, ‘I’m running to the store, be back later. Don’t wait lunch.’ So I stopped. I stood there and watched the water. I didn’t see her anywhere in the water or anywhere on the beach, and I wondered if I ever really saw her out there at all.

  “I was completely disgusted with everything, so I turned and went back inside thinking if she’d gone under it served her right. I waited an hour and when I came back out and didn’t see her, I called the police to report my wife missing. I thought then, if she had gone off to be with Frank Wiley, she’d have some serious explaining to do when she got back.”

  Sam struggled with the rising wave of emotion.

  “But it didn’t happen that way. Thinking back, I wish it had happened that way. My kids would still have a mother if it had.”

  Sam clenched his fists repeatedly, as if trying to squeeze away the guilt from his soul.

  Maggie's heart quietly broke for him.

  “I didn’t do anything to save her,” Sam said in a very small and very lost voice. “I let her drown.”

  9

  For the first time, Maggie saw Sam in his true light, not as a man with a playful smirk and a carefree outlook on life, but a man instead whose expression reflected his tortured soul, a man who silently carried the world’s guilt on his shoulders.

  “Our marriage was failing. I could have moved out. I could have moved on with my life, and let Diane move on with hers. The hurt would have gone away eventually.”

  His chin nearly touching his chest, Sam spoke to the surf below his dangling feet. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with her.

  “All of those things I could have endured, easily, and the mother of my children would still be here for them. I could have spared them that pain and tragedy. But I didn’t. I chose not to. I made a conscious decision not to do anything, and let my wife die rather than see her in the arms of another man.”

  “I was afraid of enduring that hurt, her rejection,” Sam said. “And I let her die as a result.”

  “Oh Sam.”

  Maggie touched his arm.

  She did this without thought.

  She just touched him.

  She did that from time to time, as a means of offering comfort.

  But not like this.

  Her heart broke for him. “I’m so sorry.”

  A tingle coursed through her at his touch, and suddenly, she felt her own throat constrict and tears well in her eyes as well. What surprised her: how she left her hand there, on his arm, and how Sam made no attempt to pull it away.

  Instead, he slid his arm up until his hand found hers and he took it.

  And she let him.

  “Frank Wiley showed up about the time the police did. I saw the anguish on his face when they found her. He screamed when they brought her body ashore. He followed us to the hospital. He showed up at the funeral. He was a complete wreck. He cried.”

  I didn’t.

  “He acted like the widowed husband, not me. I didn’t even look at her urn.”

  And Sam never said a word to anyone about what he knew.

  He looked deep into her eyes. A soft smile spread across his face.

  “Through everything that happened, and everything I told you, suddenly, your opinion of me matters more than anything. I don’t want you to see me as some pathetic nutcase who sticks guns in his mouth.”

  “Sam, I don’t think that at all.”

  “Or as a man who killed his wife.”

  They realized their hands had entwined as if on their own volition and quickly jerked them away.

  Maggie’s hand tingled as if she touched a live wire.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have done that,” Sam said looking sheepish. “I’m not sure Robert would approve.”

  Maggie laughed, “No, I can tell you with absolute certainty, Robert would not approve.”

  “He doesn’t like me much.”

  “Don’t lose any sleep over it. Robert doesn’t like anybody much, but no he doesn’t care for you much, no offense.”

  Sam smiled, “None taken.”

  Maggie wanted to say something – anything to help ease his suffering.

  “There’s no way you could have known.”

  “But I did.”

  “Maybe afterward, but not at the time, there’s no way anybody could have known what happened. Nobody saw her go down, not even you.”

  Sam was glad she was here; glad he had told her everything after all, “I tried to convince myself believe me. Diane went under. I saw her swimming one minute and the next she was gone. The thought crossed my mind she might be in trouble but I didn’t do anything. In fact, I said it served her right.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Maggie said, “and it helps no one to keep punishing yourself like this.”

  “I let her die,” Sam said. “I should have done something.”

  10

  A rumbling of thunder rolled above the tree line behind them.

  Sam looked over his shoulder at the rapidly advancing stain of deep gray seeping above the trees as a white, flicker of lightning scrawled a crooked line trailing from the cloud’s dark underbelly to the ground. The wind kicked up in furious gusts.

  No calm before the storm this time.

  “Now we’re about to get wet,” he said.

  They hopped off the concrete wall and when Maggie turned around to look at the sky behind her, she saw the angry gray stretch to the north. Another jagged line of lightning traced from cloud belly to treetop, and a few seconds later, that first attention-getting bellow of thunder confirmed what Sam had just implied.

  They were about to get wet.

  “Can you run?”

  Maggie laughed, “Can I run? I can run, just not very fast.”

  “Me neither,” Sam said, “What the hell. This is the beach. You’re supposed to get wet here.”

  She couldn't ignore the prod of guilt poking her in the ribs. She should have paid attention and noticed the approaching storm.

  So foolish.

  I should have been thinking about the kids.

  A flurry of things she needed to do rushed through her mind all at once. The kids’ beach toys needed picking up. There were beach towels to gather. Umbrellas and coolers needed to be taken to the porch.

  Kids too, who knew where they were scattered.

  They’re out in this.

  Plus there was Robert.

  She had forgotten about Robert out on the golf course somewhere.

  Well, Robert is an adult he can take care of himself.

  “I have to get ba
ck,” Maggie said. “The kids are outside.”

  The rain hit them fast, falling in great torrents; pulsating waves slanted sideways, slashing across the beach whipped by roaring gusts of wind.

  Maggie stood outside on her back porch and watched the storm spend its fury and plow out to sea, arms folded tightly about her to ward off a chill no coat or blanket could still.

  Never had she seen it rain so viciously.

  Sam said this was what they called coming up a bad cloud in the South.

  Her thoughts though, were not focused on watching the thunderstorm, as she told Robert she wanted to do while the rest ate lunch – tuna salad, she apologized and not tuna melts. She made any excuse to get outside, to get away, just in case there was a chance she might see him.

  And that made her feel like crap.

  This was wrong.

  I shouldn’t have gone off with him.

  I shouldn’t have touched him.

  I shouldn’t have taken his hand.

  Maggie didn’t know what to think.

  I am a married woman.

  I have a husband, and while her marriage may not be in the best shape and on autopilot for the past couple years if she were being honest, she still took her vows seriously.

  Robert didn’t deserve this, and she regretted taking the walk with Sam, regretted the cold look Anna Beth flashed at her. She regretted everything about this morning and wished she could go back and start over, and undo everything since she walked outside this morning to find Sam standing on the beach.

  She couldn’t get him, or his story, out of her mind.

  In fact, Maggie realized she couldn’t think of anything else right now, but Sam.

  She heard the whine of the screen door open and close couple with the creak of the floorboards behind her.

  “What are you doing?” Robert asked as he stepped to her side.

  “I’m watching the storm,” she replied in a softer tone than any she’d allowed for her husband so far today. “I’m just thinking.”

  “Oh,” Robert said and fell quiet. “You’re not still angry about that silly old bullet, are you?”

  Maggie sighed, “No Robert, I’m not still angry over any silly old bullet.”

  “Good,” he said, and Maggie was sure, he considered the issue closed.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you out there,” she said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “It’s okay,” he said and slipped his arms around her waist, pushing aside her hair to kiss the nape of her neck.

  His touch made Maggie’s skin crawl, which made her feel even worse. She stiffened slightly, but did not retreat from his touch.

  “I love you,” he said.

  His sudden expression of affection surprised her.

  “I love you too, Robert,” Maggie replied, but her words lacked any trace of conviction, which made her sad.

  Whatever happened this morning, Sam or not, Maggie now saw her husband in a different light, and she realized, as if for the first time, she was no longer in love with the man she married. If asked, she couldn’t even honestly say if she still loved him at all.

  Did she ever really love him?

  Maggie watched the rain and waited for the other shoe to drop from Robert. She felt the tension creep into his arms as if he had something else to say.

  Earlier, she and Sam made it as far as the pier when the bottom fell out of the sky.

  She was soaked and screaming with laughter as they turned up the beach slope. They shouted quick good-byes where the walkway split and Maggie dashed for the sanctuary of her covered porch.

  The kids were waiting, gathered around the stoop at the back door, and howling with laughter as she dodged picnic tables and lawn furniture.

  Then, just as Maggie ducked under the awning, lightning split the sky apart and thunder crackled like rifle shot.

  They all screamed.

  “The kids said you and that Sam fellow got caught out in the rain,” and so dropped the other shoe from Robert.

  Maggie expected this as soon as she heard the opening screen door. The kids, probably David, told their father the hilariously funny story about how momma had been caught in the rain with the man from next door in hopes of sharing a good laugh with his dad.

  It didn’t happen that way.

  I’m sure Robert gave David the cursory chuckle, and marched right out here to demand to know what hell happened this morning.

  “We took a walk along the beach,” she said, trying to quell the ice picks of guilt

  “Why would you take a walk along the beach with him?”

  Him, came out sounding as if she’d taken a walk with a convicted pedophile.

  She jerked away from his embrace.

  “Because you weren’t here, Robert. You left us this morning. You had to play golf, remember?”

  Wrong or not, two could play this game, she thought.

  “Maggie, I don’t understand why you won’t give me a chance.”

  What the hell brought that on?

  But Maggie knew.

  Any conversation between them wound up here, as if drawn by magnet, and why Maggie wouldn’t give Robert a chance.

  Robert didn’t want a chance.

  Robert wanted sex.

  They hadn’t made love in some time, weeks in fact.

  Maggie was too tired to mess with lovemaking, especially when she came out of it with very little anyway.

  “Because Robert?” she said, the weariness of rehashing this over and over again, evident in her voice. “I shouldn’t have to give you anything. Any chances you want you earn, and you refuse to do that.”

  Even in the way he brought up the subject, her being required to give him the chance, told Maggie all that concerned Robert was getting his own way, just like he’s always been.

  I’m happy as long as I get what I want.

  “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you hate me so.”

  “Robert, when did I ever say that I hated you? I may not like your behavior lately or the fact you expect to be waited on hand and foot, or how you treat me more like your hired help than your wife, but I don’t hate you.”

  “I...” he started to reply, but then fell quiet.

  “Robert, this is my vacation too, and if taking a walk with Sam on the beach is relaxing for me, then why can’t I take a walk on the beach?”

  “You’re a married woman.”

  “Oh my God, Robert, I won’t dignify that comment with a response.”

  But she did anyway.

  “Tell me Robert, where is it written after I say ‘I do’ I am no longer allowed to talk to or take walks with half the human race?”

  Her guilt pangs persisted and his words clearly stung, because there was an air of truth to them.

  He hit the nail right on the head and it infuriated her..

  She turned away and looked out beyond the falling rain, not searching for anything specific, but looking anywhere so she didn’t have to look at her husband.

  “Do you talk to other women?”

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  “Then why can’t I talk to other men? Sam is an interesting man who has been very kind to us and we’ve done nothing but throw it back in his face. I am embarrassed and ashamed of our behavior as a family. You want to know where they get the term ‘Obnoxious Yankees?’ The Scott family from Steubenville Ohio showed them all just how obnoxious we can be.”

  She looked at her husband with a cold, spiteful glare.

  “Suspicion and distrust does not become you Robert. Now please, grant me this one favor, and let me enjoy my time right now . . . Alone?”

  Robert mumbled something under his breath that included, “sure, whatever you want,” and went back inside. She enjoyed these little snippets of solitude, and dammit anyway if Robert didn’t come out here to ruin it yet again heaping on layers of guilt as to why she wouldn’t give him another chance.

  I feel guilty enough already.

  It was an innocent walk
.

  So why did she feel so guilty?

  Maggie heard a whistle dance between the patter of falling rain. She saw Sam standing among the shadows of his back porch, watching the storm. He had a white bath towel slung around his neck and a beer bottle in one hand. He nodded, smiled and tipped the bottle to her in hello.

  She smiled back, and felt an excited pull in her stomach again. Something about Sam intrigued her. Just exactly what, she couldn’t place a finger on, but she found herself wanting to find out.

  This is wrong!

  The voice started shouting at her now.

  11

  David slouched in one of Sam’s Adirondack chairs.

  A knee slung over an armrest, elbow propped on the other, his chin buried in his palm, and working up one good pout. Tears welled in his eyes and a sour look pulled his face into a scowl.

  He was not a happy camper.

  Sam ambled over from the porch, having rolled the smoker to its storage place against the back of the house. The noonday storm had passed out to sea and took some of the intensity of the day’s heat with it.

  The Fourth of July weekend officially began with the arrival of Friday afternoon.

  David sat slouched in the chair, having as awful a time as any seven-year-old can have at the beach.

  “What’s up champ? Why the long face?”

  “It’s Robbie,” David spat through the protruding lower lip.

  “And what did Robbie do?”

  “He went off with a girl.”

  ‘Girl’ came out as if David found the mere mention of the word pretty much akin to eating broccoli, “A stupid girl.”

  “He did huh?” Sam crouched to one knee, “Robbie will do that you know. You see, he’s at an age where he’ll want to be with girls.”

  “Well, he was supposed to take me fishing.”

  Now, Sam understood.

  “I see. So Robbie let you down, huh?”

  David nodded and a tear spilled down his cheek.