by Kim Pritekel
He looked up at her from his perch on the bed with confusion. “Tonight was Bronte’s spelling bee thing. You guys weren’t supposed to be home.”
“That was last week, Jim! You were there, remember?”
He threw his hands up and looked away. “Shit.” He eyed her. “Well, she didn’t mention anything to me.”
“What is she going to say?” Lysette asked, exasperated. “Uh, gee honey,” she deepened her voice for exaggerated effect, “I kinda ran into your family while trying to figure out what the hell you meant by your Superman suit.”
He let out an irritated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “Crap. Yeah.”
“Yeah. That poor girl is in over her head with you. She’s a nice lady, she really is,” Lysette said, genuine affection for a strange situation. “But I have to ask.”
He looked up at her, expression guarded. She knew he knew that tone of voice from her. He wasn’t going to like what was coming. “What?”
“Do you have such little respect for me, for the kids, and for the home we’ve made for them that you’d bring your mistress here?” she asked. “And then if that’s not bad enough, you fuck her in my bed?”
His eyes widened, and his face paled. He swallowed before his demeanor changed, a conscious effort on his part. “What are you talking about?” he said, attempting to wave off her accusation. “That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” she asked, arms crossed far more casually over her chest than she was feeling.
“Did she tell you that?” he asked, voice sounding far less sure that he could get one over on her.
“No.”
He physically relaxed, pushing to his feet. “Well then, that’s absurd—”
“Your son did.”
He stared at her for a long moment before turning away, again that hand pushing through his hair. “Little bastard.”
“Don’t you dare blame this on him,” she growled. “He only told me tonight, after watching Fran come and go. That poor baby had to hold in the fact that this father is a cheating rat for more than seven months. He was really upset by it.”
“I’m a cheating rat?” he asked, turning on her, hand on his own chest. “I’m a cheating rat? You cannot tell me that you didn’t bring one of your, your floosies into this house to fuck!”
She walked up to him, angry and over all of it. “Don’t call them floosies. Any one of those women has more class than you’ll ever have. And no, I never did. I didn’t have sex with any one of them in our bed, in our home, or even in the same goddamn county. There’s a thing called discretion. And even though you and I opted to take the lowest of the low road in our marriage, I wasn’t about to do that to our children.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Or to you.”
“Well, aren’t you just a fucking saint,” he said evenly.
Deciding enough had been said, Lysette wanted to move on to what she’d been thinking about all evening. “I think you and Fran should take this house. Aunt Josie and the kids and I will find a place here to start over.”
“And Eleanor,” he bit out.
She wasn’t going to take the bait. “If that’s what we decide to do down the road, absolutely,” she said casually.
“So you expect me to move Fran into our marriage bed?” he asked, incredulous.
She brought a hand to her hip and looked him square in the eye. “You already did.”
He looked away, jaw muscles working as he attempted to control his temper. “Fine,” he said at length, heading to the door. “I’ll make an amendment in the papers, which should be ready for your attorney to look over by the end of the week.”
“Jim,” she said.
He stopped, hand on the bedroom doorknob, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“We need to have a proper discussion with the kids. Soon.”
He nodded, then left.
Chapter Thirty-five
“Mama, where do you want this? Though I think the better question is, why do you want this?” Eleanor held the small knitted blanket up for inspection, her face pulling in mild disgust. “It’s definitely seen better days.”
“Excuse me, but that was your first baby blanket, thank you very much,” Emma said, indignation in her voice where she stood at the counter pulling newspaper-wrapped dishes out of a box.
“Yes, and I’d wager it still has my first diaper change on here, too,” Eleanor muttered.
“Yup, and it’s right about where your hand is.”
Eleanor gasped, her hand falling away as though burned. Realizing by her mother’s mischievous grin she’d been had, she rolled her eyes and tossed the blanket so it drifted down onto her mother’s head. “You figure it out,” she grumbled playfully.
Emma chuckled, pulling the blanket away and lightly setting it aside.
“Hey, now,” Josie said, glaring at Eleanor as she stepped up next to Emma, placing a protective arm around her shoulders. “You be good, or I’ll take you out back for a good whoopin’. Your mother is in recovery,” she said sweetly, her demeanor instantly changing from playfully gruff to tender with adoration in her eyes fixed solely on Emma.
Eleanor stood back and watched. She honestly couldn’t be happier for her mother, as she’d truly never seen joy in her eyes the way it was there when Josie was anywhere near her or was simply mentioned. The only thing that had ever brought her joy like that was Eleanor’s own successes in life or when Emma was surrounded by anything green that grew.
Josie hadn’t left her side in the entire month since she’d arrived at Memorial and just over two weeks since she’d been released. Even once Eleanor had to go back to school, she’d felt far more okay about it because she knew Josie was with her. She knew that Josie was finally giving Emma everything she’d dreamed of: love, attention, affection, and true acceptance for all that she was.
“Lunch!”
Eleanor looked to see Bronte leading the parade inside. She carried a large paper bag that was filled with Styrofoam containers of lunch orders taken when Lysette had called earlier. A few moments after she entered and headed their way, her mother and brother followed, though Eleanor could tell not all was well.
“Jimmy, your dad told you no,” Lysette was saying, a cardboard tray with a few drinks in Styrofoam cups on it in her hands, Jimmy carrying the rest.
“What does it matter what he said?” Jimmy stepped over the threshold behind her. “He’s a jerk.”
“Jim,” Lysette said, turning on him, her voice lowering with warning. “I know you’re angry right now with everything going on, but he’s still your dad.” She leaned in closer to him, their conversation no longer able to be heard.
Not wanting to seem like she was trying to nose in on the situation, Eleanor turned away and focused on Bronte. “Hey, kiddo. Lunch, huh?”
“Yup,” she said, grinning brightly as she handed the large bag to Emma. “Mom let me put your order in myself.”
“You did?” Emma asked, hands on hips. “And what, pray tell, did you order me?”
“Something Mom said would be nice to your heart.” Bronte placed the large bag on the floor and opened it, reaching in and pulling out a closed Styrofoam container. “Salad!” She grinned. “With chicken.”
Eleanor smiled and turned to the small kitchen table that the movers had brought in with the rest of the furniture the day before. She was about to start clearing the packed boxes off it when she felt a small touch to her arm. Turning, she saw Lysette standing next to her.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” Lysette looked tired and a bit exasperated.
“You okay?” She wanted to give her a hug and kiss, but they decided to keep things quiet until school was out, which would be in a few weeks. Eleanor didn’t feel right fully disclosing their relationship to Jimmy, considering he was in her class. He wouldn’t be next year, and it would be a couple of years before Bronte would be. By then, any and all wrinkles should be ironed out.
“Yeah,” she said, blowing out a breath as sh
e set the drinks on the table. “I’ll tell you about it later. Do you think your mama would be upset if I kidnap you after lunch?” She stuck bendable straws in the thin plastic covering the hole in the lids on the drinks. “I want to show you something.”
“No, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Eleanor said, accepting her lemonade. “We’re down to the kitchen and a few odds and ends now in the unpacking arena. I mean, they’re even sleeping here now.”
Lysette gave her a devilish grin. “Is that weird for you?”
Eleanor sipped her drink and glanced over at her mother and Aunt Josie. The two were getting everyone’s lunch containers out of the bag they’d brought up to the counter, standing nearly hip to hip in their work. “Not weird, per se,” she responded. “It’s different, for sure, but honestly,” she added, glancing at Lysette, “I can’t think of two women more deserving of happiness.”
Lysette gave her a loving smile. “I can.”
****
“It is an absolutely gorgeous spring day,” Eleanor said, arm resting along the passenger window, which she’d rolled down in Lysette’s car.
They drove along the quiet streets of her mother’s new neighborhood, which was headed slightly toward the outskirts of town. She felt so content and happy to be with Lysette. She reached over and took Lysette’s free hand, Lysette immediately entwining their fingers as the two shared a quick smile.
“So what’s going on with Jimmy?”
Lysette let out a sigh. “He’s been fighting with Jim nonstop since we told the kids that we were getting a divorce. He’s convinced it’s because Jim brought Fran home and he told me.”
“Oh, man. Baby, I’m sorry. Wow. Couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Exactly. So he’s on this kick that anything Jim tells him he doesn’t have to listen to because obviously Jim doesn’t want to be part of the family anymore.”
Eleanor listened, but the rare bumps the Vaughns hit in this road of separating lives always made her feel equal parts guilty and worried. Her worst fear was that Lysette would decide it wasn’t worth it and call off the divorce, despite all the endless assurances she got from her that would never happen. She was always reminded that the divorce would be final as of June 1, just over a month away.
“You know, the irony is,” Lysette continued, unwittingly breaking through Eleanor’s morose thoughts. “I always thought Bronte would struggle more with this. Heck,” she said with a smile, “she’s super excited to have a younger brother or sister to pick on. You know,” she said, glancing at Eleanor before turning left onto a road that took them out into the wooded area that surrounded Woodland. “She’s been the baby for almost thirteen years and picked on incessantly by her older brother.”
Eleanor smiled, nodding. She’d certainly seen enough of that in the months she’d been back in Lysette’s life. “I’ll bet.”
“Jimmy is such a laid-back kid, you know? I’m really surprised by how he’s acting out.”
“Well, consider how close you two are. I’m actually not surprised at all that he’s doing this,” Eleanor said. “I see it with my boys at school, whether it’s a younger sister or a girlfriend. They get very territorial when any other boy comes along. I think he’s just being protective of you and probably of Bronte, though he’d never admit it.”
Lysette smiled. “Isn’t that the truth.”
The car slowed and turned onto a private lane that began under a wooden gate, ranch-style. A handwritten sign was stuck in the ground: Estate Sale. “We’re going to look at old stuff that belonged to dead people?” Eleanor asked, confused.
Lysette chuckled. “Sort of.”
The New Yorker pulled up the long dirt road that led to the house, which was about a half-mile back from the road, patches of trees obscuring much of the view until suddenly they cleared, revealing the beautiful property.
The old two-story farmhouse had a wraparound porch and dormers jutting out from the roof.
“What a darling house,” Eleanor said, noting the tables of belongings that were laid out on the front lawn, a few people wandering around looking at things. This was obviously where the sale was.
Lysette pulled to a stop and killed the engine. As they climbed out of the car, a frail, petite man hobbled over to them. His skin was like leather while his hands, far too large in proportion to his small stature, were that of a man who’d worked hard his entire life.
“Welcome back, Miss Lysette. I see you did indeed bring your friend to see the house.”
“I did, Mr. Oscar. This is Eleanor,” she said, presenting Eleanor to the old man, who held a hand out in greeting.
“Hello, Miss Eleanor. You gals take your time looking around now.”
“I see,” Eleanor said as they headed up the stairs to the porch and into the house. She winced when the screen door, with its entirely too-tight hinges, slammed behind them. “So we’re here to look at the house that belonged to dead people.”
Lysette chuckled. “Exactly. I guess Oscar was the caretaker here for about fifty years for the same family. The last family member died last winter, so now it’s time for him to move on.” She glanced at Eleanor as they made their way through the downstairs rooms. “So he told me.”
“This place is great,” Eleanor murmured, noting the original molding and beautiful fireplace in the sitting room. It was obvious it was an old house, the rooms small and plentiful, much like they were a hundred years before.
“So, Miss Historian,” Lysette said, leading the way into the kitchen. “According to Oscar, this house was built just after the Civil War ended. Four bedrooms, five acres, and a horse barn.”
Eleanor nodded, thinking it would be fantastic for Lysette and the kids. “Sounds great. You could get horses down the road for Bronte.”
“My thoughts, too.” They took the winding narrow staircase at the back of the house in the kitchen to the second floor. At one time, it would have been used by any servant help. They walked down the hall, peeking into the three smaller bedrooms, as well as a bathroom to be shared. Finally, in the master bedroom with a rare bathroom for the time period, Lysette stood in the center of the room, hands on hips. “What do you think?”
Eleanor took in the second fireplace tucked into the corner. “I think it’s unfortunately been neglected, but it’s nothing some elbow grease and paint can’t cure. There’s plenty of space without it being ostentatious or unmanageable.”
Lysette nodded, taking in the empty room around them. “And,” she added, eyeing Eleanor, “it’s only about a fifteen-minute drive to the school.”
Eleanor met her gaze. Her mind went to the kids getting to school, but from the look in Lysette’s eyes and the carefully hopeful smile, she knew the kids weren’t exactly who Lysette meant by that.
Looking around to make sure they were alone, Eleanor walked over to her, reaching out to place her hands on Lysette’s hips, gently tugging her toward her. Lysette’s arms snaked up around Eleanor’s neck, fingers lightly playing in the short dark hair at the nape of Eleanor’s neck.
“What are you saying, hmm?” Eleanor asked, not wanting to assume or hope, regardless of what she felt Lysette was insinuating.
“Well, I know we just started dating about twenty-three years ago,” Lysette said, that grin on her lips that Eleanor loved. “I want us to be together, Ellie,” she said, her smile replaced by seriousness. “When you’re ready, whether it’s this house or the other one I’ve been looking at, I want you with me. Every place I’ve looked at over the past month, I’ve had us in mind.” She tugged lightly on a strand of hair to emphasize the “us.” “I want us to make a new life together. You, me, and the kids.” She smirked. “I mean, they already love you, and Bronte and your mama have adopted each other.”
“Jeez, isn’t that the truth,” Eleanor said, leaning in to initiate a slow, deep kiss, though she kept it short, concerned they’d be discovered. “Okay,” she whispered against Lysette’s beautiful lips. “Sounds like a plan.”
Epilogue
The house was filled with loud chatter and laughter amid the crackle and popping of a dancing fire, which Jim sat near reading the paper while Jimmy and Aunt Josie were attempting to teach the new puppy Ralph a few tricks in the grand entryway of the farmhouse. In the kitchen, Fran laughed at one of the endless anecdotes Eleanor was sharing about her students with the ladies as they finished the last few details of dinner. Fran and Bronte were carrying the food into the formal dining room, decked out for the special Thanksgiving meal. Davis was in New Hampshire celebrating the holiday with Lysette’s brothers and their families, the entire group expected in Colorado for Christmas.
“Is that it?” Fran asked, hand resting on her massive belly.
“That’s it. Call ’em in,” Lysette said, carrying the last of the food dishes in.
“Let’s eat!” Fran called out, carefully taking her seat.
“Need any help, Fran?” Eleanor asked, standing nearby just in case.
“Nope,” Fran said with gritted teeth as she lowered herself into the chair. She let out a loud sigh as her behind made contact with the padded seat. “I’ve got this.” She grinned up at Eleanor, who returned the smile.
“Where are you sitting, baby?” Lysette asked, walking up beside Eleanor. They hadn’t used the formal dining room since they’d moved in six months before.
“I don’t know,” Eleanor said, looking at the filling chairs. “I guess here at the end and you to my left?”
“Oh, I see,” Lysette teased, giving her that smile saved only for her. “You get to be the ‘man’ of the house, huh?”
“Bet your cute little ass,” Eleanor murmured into her ear, making Lysette laugh.
With everyone seated, Eleanor looked out over the large table, a feeling of absolute satisfaction filling her. She’d never been happier, her relationship with Lysette as strong and fulfilling as she always knew it would be. And though there were a few bumps along the way, the kids had settled in remarkably well with both their parents’ new situations.
