by Lori Leger
“I’m sorry, Cyn. I tried to keep quiet, I really did.”
She closed her eyes and rested her face against his broad chest. “Don’t apologize for defending me.”
He rocked her back and forth, holding her tightly in the silence of the room for several moments before he spoke. “If you don’t mind me asking, how can you be so sure about what you said to him? I mean, the man is dead and he didn’t admit to anything, did he? Isn’t it possible—”
She pulled away from him and shook her head. “I have my reasons. Believe me, I’m right about this.” She wiped a tear from the corner of one eye and clamped her jaw against the pain nagging and pushing at her, no matter how hard she tried to set it aside. She’d be so happy if she could find a way to erase it from history.
He grabbed her hand when she tried to turn away from him, his blue eyes turning a shade darker as he brought his face level to hers. “Tell me, Cyn. If it’ll help you to get it out, tell me. You have my word no one else will ever hear it from me.”
His sincerity touched her. It touched the one place in her heart she’d tried to harden against the pain of her husband’s deceit. Judging by the tears tightening her throat, cutting off her breath, she’d failed miserably. He pulled her close, one large hand moving in soft, comforting circles on her back as the fingers of his other gently massaged the base of her skull. Her barrier crumbled and hot tears trailed down her cheeks, soaking the front of his shirt.
He led her to the couch, sat, and then pulled her onto his lap. She buried her face in his shoulder, both hands clasped around his neck. Even then she was in control, withholding the body-wracking sobs he’d been expecting. It bothered him. He didn’t think she’d be an out of control, blubbering mess, but he wanted some kind of relief for her.
He held his tongue though, because he understood. She’d had to be strong for her children. She’d had to find a way to grieve for a husband who’d committed the ultimate sin, the ultimate betrayal, was still committing it at his time of death. Jesus. What a soul-crushing dilemma.
He made an honest attempt not to hate the man who’d done this to her. She said he’d always treated her well. He’d been a good man with one flaw, one mark against him. But damn if it wasn’t one hellacious, black, ugly mark.
Try as he might, he couldn’t understand how a man who loved his wife could deceive her in such a way. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Gene had loved his wife. No way could he have been married to this woman and not loved her.
Cynthia’s too-brief allowance of tears ended, and she tried to lift herself away from him. “I’m probably too heavy for you.”
He held her there with a firm, but gentle grip. “You’re kidding, right? You weigh nothing.” He sensed the moment of her surrender, the second she quit trying to run and settled into his embrace.
It took a few more seconds of waiting patiently before she finally began to speak, her voice cracking at first, until she found her reserve of strength. The same strength she’d, no doubt, been relying so heavily on since her nightmare had begun.
“Two years ago, around our anniversary, Gene was scheduled for a week of training in Tulsa. The last night, he’d made reservations at this fancy restaurant and asked me to meet him. The plan was to spend one night at the hotel and drive home together the next morning.
I made it there a little early, so I was sitting at the bar waiting for him. He walked up behind me as the bartender brought me my second drink and asked if I was alone. I played along, and said I was, for the time being. He asked if he could buy me a drink. I said it depended on whether he expected anything in return because I was a married woman.”
Cynthia sniffed and accepted the handkerchief John Michael gave her. She used it to dry her eyes. “He gave me some corny line. I said he was wasting his time. He’d have to be a hell of a man to steal me away from my husband. He said if I gave him one chance, he’d make me forget all about him. We ended up cancelling the dinner reservation and I followed him to his hotel room, where we kept up the pretense of being strangers.”
She stopped, drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “It was the hottest night of sex I’d had with my husband in years. I thought it was the simple change in routine. But Gene admitted it had been the temptation of forbidden fruit. He said it excited the hell out of him.”
John Michael found himself examining the timeline. “This was two years ago, and he died, what is it now, about twenty months ago? So …”
She released a hysteria-tinged chuckle. “You got it. My husband must have been running on sensory overload that night. Not one, but two dirty little affairs.”
John examined her hand, turned it over to place a soft kiss on the inside of her palm, wanting more than ever to erase every miserable ghost of a memory that son of a bitch had left her.
“After he died, it took me a year not to get physically ill every time I thought of that night.”
He swallowed the bile rising in his own throat at the level of betrayal and pain it must have caused her. “I can see why. Hell, I’m halfway there myself.”
“You know, he asked me never to tell another soul about it, like it would be our little secret, something to keep the heat in our marriage.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know why, but it made me a little nervous at the time. He made me feel self-conscious and unsure of myself. I asked him if he thought what we had, our life, our marriage, wasn’t enough for him. He laughed at me, said it was more than enough, it was perfect and he’d never need anything else.”
Cynthia turned to face him, her eyes filled with a sadness he hated seeing there. “Obviously, he lied.”
John pulled her close, placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “So what did your shrink have to say when you told her about you and Gene’s little sex-capade?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever told.”
Her admission shocked him. “Are you kidding me?”
“It shamed me, John Michael. It still does. I didn’t want another human being on earth to know about it.”
“But you told me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Does that make me special?”
“Yes. I believe it does.” She lifted her plump lips to his and kissed him, chastely at first, then deepened it, tugging at his tongue. She nipped at his lower lip then wiggled out of his lap and stood, her hand reaching out for him.
He took it and pulled himself to his feet.
She turned, tugging at his hand. “Follow me, John Michael.”
He balked slightly. “Where to?”
“Don’t ask questions.”
She pulled him down the hall to what was obviously her bedroom. He stopped in the doorway. “So, you want our first time to be in your mom’s house?”
Her eyes sparkled with something that didn’t quite come off as humorous. “Maybe. What’s wrong? Don’t you want to do it in my mom’s house?”
“Not really, no.”
She reached up onto her toes and nipped at his lower lip. “Why? Are you afraid she’ll come home and catch us?”
He set her at arm’s length. “As a matter of fact, I am. I wouldn’t want to disrespect your mother, and frankly, I don’t want her to lose respect for either of us.”
Her lower lip jutted out in a sexy pout. “Don’t you want me, John Michael?”
His gut soured at her question, knowing full-well what was behind it. “By now, you should know better than to ask, Cyn. Even if you don’t, you need to remember one thing. I’m not Gene.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. “I didn’t imply you were.”
“Implied, no, but maybe you’re assuming my preferences would mirror his. They don’t.” The thought irked the hell out of him. “Do I want you? Hell yeah, I do, but not because you’re forbidden fruit. Not here in your mother’s house because we’d risk getting caught.”
He pointed at his chest to emphasize his next comment. “I already know I don’t want anyone else. When you can say the same thing abou
t me then we’ll make love. It’ll be a night when we know we’re committed to each other and only each other, and it will be both sexually and emotionally fulfilling and satisfying. Not just an afternoon romp of forbidden sex to act out a little revenge on a husband who died cheating on you.”
She turned away, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
“Really, Cyn? You told me something you’d never told another living soul. I don’t know why you can’t see it, but I have to ask myself why. Why wouldn’t you share something like that with your shrink during six months of sessions with her? She’s the one person who could help you to sort out your feelings.”
He shook his head. “Maybe this is all too soon for you. Maybe you’re not finished nursing the hurt Gene left you with. It’s like an old, flat beer, one you keep taking tiny little sips from, even though it does nothing to quench your thirst.”
Cyn swung around to face him again, her eyes bright with anger. She had to see it. She was far too intelligent not to hear the ring of truthfulness in his words.
“You’re being ridiculous now.”
“Am I, Cyn? I don’t think so.”
“Well, maybe you should go, then.”
He stared at the stubborn lift of her chin. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather our first time be somewhere we don’t have to sneak around, and preferably when you’re not using me to hurt a dead man.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, what if I don’t want to do it at your house? How is it fair to me? To do it in the house you shared with Beth?”
He stepped forward, leaned in close until they were nose to nose. “I’ll tell you what, hon; when you’re ready, really ready to commit to me, and only me, you let me know. I’ll take you someplace neither of us has ever been before and we’ll make love all day and all damn night if you can keep up with me. If by some chance you decide I’m worth keeping around, I’ll sell my damn house and everything in it if you want me to. I’ll buy or build us another house. Would that make you happy?”
“Maybe.” She paired her two syllable comeback with a careless shrug.
Her actions irritated the living hell out of him, but he let it go, suspecting her anger and hurt feelings were really targeted at Gene rather than himself. “When you know for sure, you let me know. I’m not here to play games.”
John grabbed his Stetson and walked calmly out of the house. His feelings contradicted the storm rumbling in his chest, even as the phrase “tough love” bounced around in his head. He buckled himself into his truck and peeled out of the driveway before he could change his mind.
During the entire trip home it took a concentrated effort not to turn his truck around. All he could think about right now was going back there to take what she’d offered so generously.
After two days of nursing the hurt from John Michael’s rejection, Cynthia found herself reconsidering his words. He’d accused her of wanting to have sex for all the wrong reasons, not only as revenge against Gene, but because the danger of being caught pushed the excitement level to maximum. Suddenly the facts hit her square in the face. She felt it then. That painful, secret, hidden ache, the reason she couldn’t seem to let the past go.
She was far too comfortable being angry with Gene to admit knowing why he’d done what he did. Although she didn’t agree with it, she understood it. So, why hadn’t she told her therapist what she’d shared with John?
It was one thing to admit her failure to herself. It took another week of no contact with John Michael, of moping around at work and at home, before she could do what she should have done a year earlier. She called for the earliest flight to Tulsa and then made an appointment with her therapist.
Cynthia adjusted the strap of her carry-on and grabbed the keys to her rental car. Even with a slight delay in her flight, she was still on schedule for the Monday afternoon appointment with her therapist on the east end of Tulsa.
Afterward, she planned to drive the hour and a half to Trini and Mick’s place west of Van Buren, Arkansas for a heart to heart with her middle child. It was time to close the gap on this emotional distance between her and her daughter.
Halfway to her therapist’s office she called Trini’s land line. Her son-in-law answered after several rings.
“Hey Mom. How are you?”
“Getting by, Mick. How are Trini and that beautiful granddaughter of mine?”
“Zoe is growing up so quickly. I can’t believe she’s talking as much as she does. Her vocabulary is amazing.”
“And Trini?” She couldn’t help but notice the pause, the tightness in his voice when he finally spoke. The poor guy had troubles of his own, for sure.
“Trini is going through something …”
Cynthia released her breath in a long sigh. “Listen, Mick. I’m only in the area for tonight, but I want to talk to her later today.”
He sucked in his breath. “I wish you luck with that, Mom. You’re-you’re not …”
“I know. I’m not high on my daughter’s list of favorite people right now. And what I have to tell her is bound to knock me down a notch or two, or a dozen.”
Mick paused again. “Is it okay to ask what’s going on? If I know ahead of time, maybe I can prepare myself for—”
“Super storm Trini?” she finished for him. “I’m seeing someone, Mick. And no doubt she’ll see this as a betrayal to her father.”
He seemed to ponder her statement. “I can’t see it going down any other way than that,” he admitted. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m happy for you. You deserve nothing but the best.”
“Thanks, Mick. To tell you the truth, he deserves better than what I’ve been able to give him so far. It seems Gene’s actions are far-reaching when it comes to damaged psyches and trust in personal relationships. I’m here to resolve some issues of my own.”
She turned into the medical center’s parking lot and pulled her car to a stop. “I’ve got to go now, but I’ll give you the heads up when I’m done here.”
Cynthia exited the medical complex feeling slightly better about the situation. She’d completely opened up during the two hour session with the woman she’d spent hundreds of hours speaking to about her marriage, Gene, and the side-effects of his long-running affair with
Tamara. This time, she’d truly crossed a threshold, one that helped her leave that old hurt in the past. She’d finally gotten the closure she’d been reaching for.
She spoke to Mick, who assured her Trini had been alerted and she was more than welcome to spend the night with them. She thanked him, all the while thinking that would be determined by the outcome of the looming mother/daughter talk.
She spent the hour and a half drive to their place, mentally preparing herself. She parked her rental next to her son-in-law’s truck. Mick met her at the door carrying Zoe in his arms.
Cynthia dropped her purse and carry-on just inside the doorway and reached for her only grandchild. “Look at Zoe, all growing like a little weed. Can Grammy hold you, please?”
Trini looked up from the pot she was stirring at her cooktop. “She probably doesn’t remember you anymore, Mother, so don’t force her. You’ll just upset her.”
After a moment of shyness, Zoe dropped the act and threw herself into Cynthia’s arms with a heart-melting “Gammy!”
“Hey, sweet girl! I’ve missed you so much.” Zoe broke into a fit of giggling as Cynthia covered the toddler’s face with kisses.
Trini approached, arms crossed and her lips drawn in a hard, tight line. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself for that.”
“Trini …” Mick’s growl of warning to his wife was met with a sneer.
She raised her palm in front of her husband’s face. “When your mother abandons you to move to backward Cajun country, you can talk. Until then, this is none of your business.”
“That’s enough, Trin.” Cynthia’s bark seemed to take her daughter by surprise. “That reminds me.” She reached into her purse
and pulled out a hard cover book on the history of the Acadians. “You may want to read this before you pass judgement on the hardworking people who made your existence possible.”
“They were ignorant swamp—”
“As I said,” Cynthia cut her off with a sharp comeback as she pressed the book into her daughter’s hands. “You need to read this. It’s time you replaced your own ignorance about our ancestry with a little pride in your French-Acadian heritage.”
Trini turned on her heel, huffing as she dropped the book unceremoniously on the end table.
“You do know your Oklahoma ancestors were either Irish or German immigrants, don’t you, Trini? They were farmers too, and were no better or worse than anyone comprising your Louisiana roots.”
Trini disappeared down the hall and seconds later, slammed her bedroom door.
Cynthia released a low growl of frustration and turned to her son-in-law, who’d already picked up the book to thumb through it. “She acts as though I’ve tainted her royal lineage or something. Where does she get that attitude?”
Mick’s brow lifted. “I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we? I loved my father-in-law, but I didn’t always respect his opinions, and I sure as hell can’t condone his behavior towards you.”
Cynthia gave him a one-armed hug. “No matter what my daughter says or does, I want you to know, I realize what a good man you are.”
He hugged her back. “Thanks, Mom. It means a lot coming from my wonderful motherin-law.”
She gave herself another ten minutes to enjoy Zoe before knocking on Trini’s closed bedroom door.
“Can I come in?”
Trini jerked the door open. “Sure. I was just leaving.”
Cynthia placed her hands on her daughter’s stiff shoulders. “Not just yet. We need to talk.”
“I’ve got to finish cooking, Mom. I take care of my husband even if you didn’t.”
Cynthia pushed her daughter into the room, stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “How do have the nerve to speak to me that way? I treated your father far better than he deserved.”
