Feeling burdened with these upsetting thoughts, I drove to Mr. Denzel’s office the following day, fear roiling up my throat at the prospect of having to acquiesce to Edward’s demands. After the secretary announced my arrival over the phone, I looked up when I heard the door open. There stood an older man, over six-feet tall with a thick head of white hair, dressed in a dark suit set off with a bright yellow tie.
“Mrs. Chambers,” he declared in a deep baritone voice. “Come right in.” He gestured dramatically for me to enter his office.
After taking a seat in front of his desk, I looked around and saw photographs of what appeared to be a younger version of him lining the walls. He was dressed in a baseball uniform, all labeled with the number “12.”
“Like baseball?” he asked, a huge smile forming below his full, mostly-white mustache.
“Watching baseball relaxes me. It’s not a super-fast sport, and when I’m stressed out I often turn on the television to the Sports Channel to see if I can catch a game. Did you play professional baseball?”
“Angels, 1970 to ’75. Pitched four no-hitters in five years.”
“But you wanted to be a lawyer.”
“Wrist injury. Got my law degree and set up shop here in my hometown. Made a lot of good friends over the years practicing in a small city like this. I’ll treat you right, I assure you.”
Nodding, I had to grin. He seemed like a real character, unlike any lawyer I’d ever met. Was he giving me a subtle heads up he knew people in high places? Perhaps that would be in my favor. Or just extremely self-confident and boastful? I guessed I’d find out soon enough.
He leaned back so far in his chair I could practically hear it groaning under his weight. “Tell me what’s going on, uh…” He looked down at the sheet of paper I’d filled out. “Brandy. I knew a Brandy once in college. Man, oh man, she—but that’s water under the bridge. Tell me what you’ve come to see me about.”
I suppressed another grin. He’d succeeded in making me less nervous, his demeanor so relaxed my stomach stopped grinding. “I’m married and had an affair. The other man is my child’s biological father and—”
“What’s this other man’s name?” he interrupted.
“Edward. Edward Barnes.”
His bushy slate-grey eyebrows popped up. “Attorney?” I nodded. “You know how to pick ’em.”
“What do you mean?” Alameda’s a small town and I shouldn’t have been surprised Edward and Mr. Denzel knew each other.
“He’s a helluva nice guy, Brandy. Doubt he has anything squirrelly up his sleeve if you’re worried about him taking your child away from you.”
I shook my head. “He’s not a horrible person, Mr. Denzel—”
“Call me Justin,” he interjected.
“I don’t want my child to have to live half of her life with her mother and the other half with her father. I have no idea what Edward’s rights are in this matter, and I haven’t a clue what he wants either.”
“I’ll get in touch with whoever’s representing him, Brandy, see what he has in mind.” He leaned forward in his chair, folded his hands on the leather blotter. “I’ll have my secretary call you with the date for the hearing.” He stood up and walked around to where I sat. He stuck out his hand and I put my palm in his. He helped me out of the chair with a smile. “Wipe that frown off your forehead. It’ll all work out just fine. I guar-an-tee it.”
“Thank you, Justin.”
“No worries, my dear.”
I left with the oddest feeling in my gut everything could work out after all—just as Justin promised. I’d done everything I needed to, turning matters over to those who dealt with the legal issues. And with Claudette and Justin on my side, I didn’t feel so alone now.
Chapter 19
April. And I was eight months along in my pregnancy. I met with my ob/gyn once every two weeks, and the baby was apparently right on the mark in weight and size. I was healthy and felt fine, especially considering the emotional upheavals surrounding my life. The weather was warmer and I’d started a vegetable garden in the backyard, just as I’d done in San Francisco. I was planting seeds when the phone rang in the kitchen, and I rushed inside the house to answer it.
“Brandy? Edward here.”
The sound of his voice chilled me. “What do you want?” I barked.
“God, do you have to be so hostile? You and I might be seeing each other a lot, Brandy, so we should cultivate some type of friendly relationship.”
I sighed. “I haven’t heard from my attorney yet and I don’t know what to make of that. Is there a problem I’m not aware of?”
“I haven’t spoken with my lawyer in a week or so either. He went out of town for a conference. That’s probably why you haven’t heard from yours. At least, that’s my educated guess.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Listen, Brandy. Maybe I’ve seen too many of these situations go sour, so I want to make this whole thing legal. Can you blame me? You’ve fought me the whole way on this, since the beginning. And I’m not asking for much. I’d like to be able to see my child a couple of weekends a month. I want to help out financially as well, start a college fund along with a monthly stipend.”
I let out a deep breath, relief flooding through me. “I have no problem with that. I was afraid you would demand a lot more and I appreciate your being so understanding about this.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “So, how are you feeling? Everything going okay with your pregnancy?”
“Yeah. The baby’s fine. I feel great. No problems in that area.”
There was a pause in the conversation, then he asked, “Does that mean there are problems in other areas?”
I didn’t answer right away, not sure whether I should reveal any personal information. But why not? This man would be a part of my life for years and bound to find out about the dissolution of my marriage fairly soon. “Weston filed for divorce.”
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You know, Edward, we don’t know each other well anymore but suffice it to say, Weston had an affair of his own while in New York.”
“You’re kidding me! That changes things. Did you forgive him his transgression?”
“Yes, I did. We were enjoying a renewed relationship when you showed up and blew everything to pieces.”
“I’m sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you or your husband. I only wanted to do what’s right.” He paused and let out a sigh. “Geez, I don’t know why your husband can’t see his way past this. I mean, you weren’t intentionally trying to get pregnant for God’s sake. Doesn’t he get that?”
“I guess not. I never had a chance to talk to him about it. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“What a mess. That night you came over my house, I should never have let things go as far as they did. It’s just…you were sitting there looking so pretty and I’d been infatuated with you since high school then when I kissed you—God, I’m sorry. About everything.”
He sounded so genuinely remorseful I almost felt sorry for him. “No need to apologize, Edward. I’m a big girl. I made a decision to have sex with you. No one forced me into it. But I never thought the child was yours. The blood test determined the date of conception around Labor Day when Weston came home for vacation.” I paused, thinking back to my one night of passion on the couch in Edward’s front room. “I hadn’t even thought about the date I went to your house. Now I’m reaping the benefits of my foolish act. But I can’t blame you. I’m responsible for my own behavior.”
“Sounds like you’ve given it some thought. Actually, you sound like you’re doing pretty well with it. Are you going to do the whole natural childbirth thing?”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it. You know, the last pregnancy ended in such a disaster, I’m anxious about this one. This child is really special to me. Not that every child isn’t, but it’s like I’ve been given a second chance.”
“Everyth
ing will be just fine, Brandy.”
“I hope so. I had a complete meltdown after my first baby died. I blamed myself. I believed I must have done something wrong during my pregnancy that caused her death. And I figured Weston must blame me too. I was so filled with guilt. And shame too, because of the way I’d treated him.” I sighed, remembering the past, and regretting it too. “I should never have slept with you.”
“You’re right. But don’t be so hard on yourself. Losing a child is one of the most stressful times in anybody’s life. You were obviously acting out of character at the time we got together.”
“Yeah. I walked around like a zombie most days. But I’m fine now. I’m happy to be pregnant again. It’s not Weston’s child, but it’s still an exciting time for me.”
“I have a question for you. And I don’t expect you to answer me right away, but…I’d like to help you out. With the birthing classes. If you need a partner, I’d be happy to be that person.”
Caught off-guard, I stumbled to get out the words. “Uh…I’ll have to think about it. Discovering I’m pregnant with another man’s child is new territory for me. I’m sure you understand.”
“Absolutely. I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant before. Anyway, think about it. I’ll understand either way.”
“Okay. I’ve gotta go now. Thanks for calling.”
Having such a friendly talk with Edward surprised me, never anticipating we’d be civil to each other. But it felt right. If our futures should end up becoming intertwined because of the baby, better to have an amicable relationship rather than fighting and arguing at every turn. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 20
Claudette Delacroix’s secretary phoned and asked me to make an appointment to talk about the divorce proceedings. I was anxious to find out what Weston’s demands were regarding the house, alimony, my child. Unfamiliar with California law, I felt uncomfortable not knowing how my life would change once the divorce was final.
When I arrived, Claudette said she’d ask me several questions, give me the list of Weston’s requests, and explain the details of what my new life as a divorcee would look like, depending on what I thought was fair.
“Brandy, you and Weston have been married for almost seven years. You own a home in San Francisco which you’re currently renting out. You moved to Alameda, purchasing the house at 1716 Lauren Drive. That is correct, no?”
“Yes, that’s right. I got pregnant while we were living in the city, then we moved here. Unfortunately, I lost the baby in June of last year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. On the positive side, your husband’s making no claims with regard to your future child. It would be almost impossible for him to acquire custody of the child anyway, unless he tried to prove you’re an unfit mother, which he has no intention of doing. Additionally, you now have proof the child isn’t his. If anything, Mr. Barnes could fight for custody of your baby, but Mr. Denzel is representing you with regard to that case, no?” She glanced up and I nodded.
“Looking at your combined assets, if you sell your house in San Francisco, you could purchase Weston’s portion of your home in Alameda, split the remaining assets, and you’d be left with a great deal of money. He has agreed to that. He’s unwilling to pay support for your future child but agrees to pay you a reasonable monthly alimony. This seems more than fair to me.”
“Wow! I haven’t spoken to Weston since the day he walked out of the house, so I had visions of this divorce being anything but amicable. The terms seem more than fair to me too.”
With a monthly alimony and money left over to invest for the future, I wouldn’t have to worry about my baby’s future. I’d received a considerable inheritance when my parents died several years back. Being an only child, I was their sole heir and they’d invested wisely. After selling their house, I’d been able to devote my days to writing, a dream I’d had since graduating college.
“That part’s done then, Brandy. I’ll take care of all the paperwork and your divorce should be completed in six months, sometime in October.”
How easy to dissolve a marriage, to throw away years of loving and caring for each other. I still loved Weston, but he obviously couldn’t handle my carrying another man’s child. In the end, my deceit and lies helped ruin our marriage, and I couldn’t blame anyone but myself.
I picked up my purse, preparing to leave. “By the way, Claudette, do you know where Weston is living now?”
“The address I have on these documents is 2030 Santa Clara Avenue.”
I felt like I’d been slapped in the face. When Weston had told me Carol had left the company, I assumed she’d returned to New York. “You’re kidding me?”
“Does it matter to you?”
“It’s where his old secretary lives. Well, not old, age-wise. She was his secretary in New York, the one he had an affair with when he lived there.”
“I’m sorry. It’s obviously been quite a year for you. But I’m glad your divorce is turning out to be one of the easier ones, Brandy. They can get quite messy. By the way, your husband wants to pick up his remaining items in the house, shoes, clothes, things like that. I’ll have my secretary arrange a date agreeable to both of you. You’ll be hearing from me if there’s anything I need to ask you.”
We both stood, shook hands, and I left her office, disoriented and depressed. Weston living with Carol Smith stuck in my gut like a knife. Why hadn’t Carol moved back to New York?
Claudette’s secretary phoned the next day and I agreed to Weston coming over Friday to pick up his things. The morning he was scheduled to arrive, I woke up feeling nervous and anxious, knowing he’d be here in a few hours. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since March and I missed him. Then again, I resented the fact he hadn’t wanted to talk about our marriage before he filed for divorce.
I dressed in my nicest maternity outfit, though it was near impossible to look like anything but an oversized marshmallow in my white capris and stretchy white top. When the bell rang, I took a few deep breaths and reached for the door knob. There he stood, looking handsome in his distressed jeans, black biker boots, hair neatly trimmed, his mustache and goatee dark and sexy. This man always made my heart skip a beat. Some things would never change.
“Brandy.” He nodded once. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine, thanks. Come in.”
He followed me into the front room where we sat at opposite ends of our favorite couch. It was an awkward situation. I felt as though I should make conversation with someone I didn’t know very well.
“You noticed the boxes next to the front door?” He nodded. “Those are your things but feel free to look around and take what you want. I won’t be a jerk about this, Weston.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked down at the rug. “Thanks, Brandy. I—”
“I would have liked to talk with you about everything before it came to this, West, but you’ve made it impossible to contact you. However, my attorney did mention you’re living on Santa Clara Avenue now. I’m assuming you’re with Carol?”
“It’s none of your business who I live wi—” He paused, shaking his head. “Shit, I’m not gonna do this. I apologize.”
He turned toward me, tears in his eyes. I stood up and knelt in front of him on the rug, taking his hands in mine. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Sorry for doing what I did, sorry for getting pregnant, sorry—”
He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Don’t, Brandy, don’t do this. I’m sorry too. Sorry for sleeping with Carol. Sorry for being so weak. Things went so wrong with us. I don’t exactly know why. Maybe just too much bad stuff happened, Christine’s death, your depression, my affair with Carol, yours with Edward. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for freaking out after Christine died. It was a horrible thing to endure.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, squeezing my hands in his warm grasp. “Everything just got so messed up. And when I left for New York, I felt lone
ly and sad about you, about our baby. I just lost it. My good sense went out the window…But, hey, water under the bridge.”
I looked up at him. “Can we still be friends?” I searched his eyes, trying to gauge his response.
“I don’t hate you, Brandy.”
I paused, not wanting to ask the question, but I had to know. I’d been obsessing about it since finding out he was living with Carol. “Do you love her?”
He glanced toward the front window. “I don’t know. She’s been there for me since I left you and…” He raked his hand through his hair, then shook his head. “I’ve gotta go, Brandy. Thanks for packing my stuff.”
He stood up, leaning over to help me up off the floor. I followed him as he walked toward the front door. After opening it, he turned toward me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry…about all of this.” He leaned over and picked up a couple of boxes.
I opened my mouth to say—what? This felt like the end. If he loved Carol there wasn’t much more I could say. We were both sorry and sad, too. One chapter of our lives was ending. Another was starting for Weston and Carol, and mine was just beginning for me and my child.
“Need help?” But I was talking to his back as he slowly made his way down the path toward his car.
He turned around, our eyes met. “No, I can handle it.”
I closed the door softly, my hand lingering on the knob after it shut. He wasn’t handling the end of our marriage well at all. He seemed confused and unhappy. How could he throw away all we had so easily? Then again, he appeared to be having a difficult time with it so I rephrased my confusion. How could he throw away all we had, period?
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