“Not in that crowd.”
“You don’t know that either. All sorts of people drink at the Anchor.” Jennie wiped her eyes. “You know yours was not the only cell phone in the room. I’m probably a star on YouTube by now. A video of that performance could go viral. It will be so much worse if your dad hears about it from someone else, if he hears in five years, than if he hears it now.”
“I’ll go with you, Jennie. We’ll tell him everything that happened, how I treated you, everything you did, everything that happened to me. He’ll understand. You know he will.”
“I’ll be happy to be with you to tell him what happened to you, sweetie, but he needs to hear what I’ve done from me.” Jennie began to cry. “I so wanted to marry your dad again. I wanted to be your mom, and Amy’s and Louisa’s.” She shook her head. “I really messed up.”
“Dad will forgive you, Jennie. I know he will. It won’t make any difference to him.”
Jennie wiped her eyes. “I know he’ll forgive me, but it will make a difference. He’ll never trust me again. He’ll always wonder.” She stared at the wall, thinking.
“I can’t trust me either. I saw my therapist this morning. I’m back on medication, but it may be months before…before I’m me again. I’m not strong, Tasha. I can’t do it on my own.”
“Yes, you are strong, Jennie. Taking the medicine means you are strong. It means you can see the problem and you’re willing to do something about it. If you weren’t strong, you’d just give up…And Dad will help.”
“I can’t ask your father to cope with me again.”
“You’ll get better and…” Tasha’s eyes closed.
Of course I’ll get better, Jennie thought. I was better for over a dozen years and look what happened.
She reached for her coat. She’d be back in the morning.
“Jennie?” As Jennie opened the door to leave, Tasha stirred. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I’m sorry for everything.”
***
Only a couple of spaces were taken in the parking lot. Jennie pulled into the one nearest the door. Persuading Kara to wait in the car, she walked inside, finding Curt standing behind the bar, wiping it clean.
“Ms. Jennie Lindsay,” he called as he saw her. “Back again. What can I get you?”
Jennie gave a small smile. “Nothing, thanks. I came to thank you and to apologize.”
“Thank me? Thank me for what?” He tossed his rag into a sink and leaned on the bar.
“For taking care of Tasha last night. I heard you leaped across the bar, gun in hand, to rescue her from a pack of men gone wild.”
“You mean you really know Tasha?”
Jennie nodded. “I do, she’s…”
“She’s your daughter like someone said?”
“Not really my daughter…it’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.” He laughed. “Tell me.”
“She’s my daughter’s step-sister.”
“So…your professor got over you and remarried.”
Jennie nodded. “He did.”
“New wife anything like you?”
“His new wife? Emma is…she was a lot nicer than I am.”
“Nicer? I always found you to be very accommodating.” He smirked.
“That’s not what I meant, Curt,” Jennie snapped. He didn’t need to insult her.
He chuckled. “Same old Jennie Lindsay. Smiling one second, ready to fight the next. I’ve always liked that in you.”
Jennie squeezed her fist, tensing the muscles. “Anyway, thanks for keeping Tasha safe and getting her home.”
“Don’t know about keeping her safe. She looked like she was beaten up pretty well.”
“She was, but she’ll be all right.”
“I’m glad.” Curt nodded. “She’s come in several times. Seems like a pretty good kid. I’d no idea she was related to you.”
“Yes, a good kid. Not at all like me.”
“You two do seem to be rather different.”
Jennie nodded. “Fair enough. Look, I’m sorry about last night.”
“What did you do? It was shaping up to be some party…”
“I shouldn’t have come…” Jennie realized Curt had never known her when she was normal. Her behavior last night was all he knew of her. He assumed she was the tramp Tasha feared she was. “I apologize if we caused you any trouble.”
Curt waved her off. “Not a problem. Not a problem at all. Just a routine night at the Anchor.”
Jennie looked at the floor for a moment, not speaking.
“I guess I need to go.”
“It was good to see you, Jennie. Come back any time.”
Confession
Winter generally doesn’t arrive in Charleston until after the New Year, but the thermometer on Jennie’s car read thirty-four degrees. Thomas would be wrapped in a fleece and a fire would be burning in the grate. Ordinarily, Jennie would have rushed directly to his house to take refuge in his arms in front of the fire. Today, though, her car crept down King Street. It was the week of Christmas and the tourists had fled the city. No one else seemed to be out either, and she had the streets to herself.
She paused frequently as she made her way toward the Battery, inspecting the houses, memorizing how they looked. She knew she would never see them again. It was terrible that her last visit had to come in winter. She would much prefer to remember Charleston in the spring, when the warm breezes drifted in from the harbor, when the children played in the parks, when the flowers bloomed. There was one magnificent yellow rose that hung over a brick wall a block over from Thomas’s house. She would love to see it again, to try, one last time, to capture its beauty in a photograph.
Jennie reached the river and idled beside the seawall. The tide was in, higher than normal, and the wind whipped whitecaps on the waves rolling in from the harbor. She circled the park, and started up Meeting Street. She had come a day early. It was Tuesday, and Thomas had invited her to dinner the next evening. She planned to be at home by then.
She allowed her car to idle in front of Saint Michael’s Church, admiring the glistening white building, wreaths hanging on every door. She recalled the window over the altar, Saint Michael thrusting his spear into the heart of the dragon. She wished he would slay the beast that had driven her to do the things she had done.
Turning right on Broad, she knew she had put off her interview with Thomas as long as she could. She headed down Church Street, her tires bumping over the brick pavement. A solid wall of cars lined the left side of the street, leaving barely enough room for her to pass. All of the spaces were taken, and Jennie saw she would have to return to the Battery, leave the car, and walk the two blocks back.
She reached Thomas’s house, but instead of driving past she pulled into the driveway when she realized the gate was open. Strange, she thought, Thomas always closes the gate. She counted her blessings and decided he must have run out for something earlier and forgotten it.
Jennie sat in her car, studying the house, recalling the first time she had seen it. It had been four years ago, almost five now, while she was petitioning for visitation. One morning at dawn, unable to sleep, she had taken her cup of coffee and walked out in search of Thomas’s house. Her mouth had literally dropped open when she had seen the number above the door and realized it was his. She had thought her little house in Whitesburg would fit inside the first story.
Only a week ago, she had imagined that one day, maybe soon, she would live here.
She climbed the steps and paused as she grasped the bronze knocker. The mist through which she had driven this morning was turning to drizzle. It was cold and the breeze from the harbor caused her to shiver. The day of Emma’s funeral, almost a year ago now, had been just like this one.
She lifted the knocker, allowing it to fall against the metal plate three times. She listened, but heard nothing. After what seemed like several minutes, just as she prepared to knock again, she detected the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs.
“Jennie,” Thomas exclaimed. He stood in the doorway, Louisa in one arm. He leaned over and kissed her. “I was expecting you tomorrow. This is a surprise, a very pleasant one.” He smiled. “Come in.”
As she stepped inside, he glanced at the porch. “Where is your luggage?”
Jennie’s duffle bag was in the back seat of her car. She had brought a single change of clothing for tomorrow. She feared that after talking to Thomas, she would be too broken up to make the entire trip home that afternoon.
“It’s in the car. I’ll leave it for now.”
Thomas closed the door and placed Louisa on the floor. She began to crawl away from them. “They’re dangerous when they are mobile.” Thomas laughed. “We’d better follow.”
They tracked Louisa to the kitchen.
“What do I smell?” Jennie asked. Her mouth was watering, but she did not expect to be there for dinner.
“Beef stew. It’s your mother’s recipe.”
“Oh wow. She hasn’t made that for me in almost forever.”
“Would you like hot tea? I was about ready for some myself when I heard your knock.”
Thomas brewed two cups.
“I have a fire in my office. Let’s go upstairs.”
Jennie carried the tea while Thomas carried Louisa.
“Here you go.” Thomas plopped the baby onto the floor in the center of a circle of stuffed bears. He placed his cup on the desk, then he put his arms around Jennie, pulling her close and giving her a long kiss.
“That’s better than a peck on the cheek at the front door.” He smiled and motioned to the rocker across from his desk.
“Sit down.” He sipped his tea. “It’s really good to see you. How did you manage to slip away from dinner with your cousins? Their Christmas party is tonight, isn’t it?”
“I told them I had to be in Charleston today. Mom is riding with Sarah.”
Thomas smiled. “I’m really glad you came.”
You won’t be after I tell you why…
They sat in silence for several moments.
Finally, Jennie cleared her throat and began. “I…I came early because I wanted…I needed to tell you about something, some things, actually, that have happened.” She took a deep breath, then another.
“A few months back, I stopped taking my medication. Dr. Wilson and I had been talking of weaning me off of it, or at least reducing it, and I…I decided to go ahead and…stop.”
“But why?” Thomas was leaning forward, a confused expression on his face.
Jennie held up both hands, as though to protect herself. “Please. Please, Thomas, let me finish. I can’t do this if I get sidetracked…”
Thomas studied her for a moment. “All right.” He leaned back in his chair holding the hot teacup in both hands, as if he needed its heat for warmth.
Jennie nodded and began again. “I was fine. No problems. Perfectly normal.” Her voice dropped. “For about a month. Then, I began having trouble sleeping.” Her cup trembled against the saucer as she lifted it to sip her tea.
“You know me. I go to bed at ten, get up at six, like a clock. Well, I began to fall asleep later and later and to wake up earlier and earlier. Before long, I was going to bed at midnight and I would find myself wide awake at three. It was weird. Three hours of sleep and I wasn’t a bit tired.” She looked down at the floor for a moment.
“It wasn’t all bad.” She offered a weak smile. “Do you have any idea how much you can accomplish if you sleep only three hours each night? I have lesson plans written through March. I enrolled in an online graduate course. Forty hours of work, they said…I finished in two weeks. I tell you, sleep is so overrated.”
Louisa began to cry. She reached out her hands. “Mil,” she said.”
“She said milk,” Jennie exclaimed.
“You know a lot of words, don’t you sweetheart?” Thomas picked her up. “Louisa is the smartest little girl I know.” He tickled her and she laughed.
In her mind, Jennie could see him playing with Alexis and Christa in the same way. She had hoped she would be able to share Louisa with him, but…Jennie sighed.
Thomas reached into a small cooler beside his desk and withdrew a bottle. “If we were downstairs, she’d use a cup.” He picked her up and handed her the bottle. She pushed it into her mouth and began to suck.
“Last time Tasha was at home, she worked for hours trying to teach her names. They’re coming.” They watched Louisa for several moments. Then, Thomas turned back to Jennie. “So, sleep is overrated?”
Jennie gave him a small smile. “That’s what I tried to tell myself. I began to feel angry. One day at school, some money was missing. The PTA had sold wrapping paper. I sent the money to the office, but when it arrived we were five dollars short. I was certain which student had taken it. I took him into the hall and I was screaming at him.” She began to cry. “And he’s such a sweet little boy. He hadn’t taken the money at all, and I can’t imagine how I thought he would.”
She looked up at Thomas, shaking her head. “I totally lost it over five dollars…That wasn’t the only time, but I always had a reason for what I did, one that made sense to me anyway. I told myself I was fine.”
She stood and started to pace around the room. Louisa began to crawl toward her, but Thomas caught her.
“One weekend, I had to have new clothes. I didn’t just want them, I needed them.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “When I arrived home that night, I had eight hundred dollars’ worth of dresses, pants, and tops in my car. Eight hundred dollars,” she exclaimed.
When my bank balance hit zero, I pulled out my Visa. I charged everything when I came over here on Thanksgiving. If I hadn’t, I would have been huddled in front of my fire eating hot dogs and baked beans for the entire week. I told myself I’d pay the balance at the end of the month, but…” She paused to look through the window. The drizzle had turned to rain. She could see it bouncing on the roofs of the cars that lined the street.
“Then I…I started to drink. Not much at first,” she added quickly, “just a glass of wine. I asked myself, why not? Everyone drinks wine. My Baptist mother drinks wine. All of the girls do. You have a cooler in the kitchen. You showed us the bottle that your brother, Richard, gave you, the one that sold for five hundred dollars. So, I reasoned, why couldn’t I have a glass of wine?”
“I had no idea.” Thomas stood and reached out to hug her, but she guided his hand away.
“Please, let me finish. I need to tell you everything…I didn’t want you to know I was drinking again. Besides, I told myself I could handle it.”
She moved away from him and sat down again. “Wine became Baileys, and that became whiskey. I used to love bourbon, and I found it was still the same, the taste, the warmth. I found it comforting for some…some weird reason.” She watched as Thomas picked up Louisa and burped her.
Jennie finished her tea and placed her empty cup on the desk. “On Friday, we had our staff party at a restaurant in Atlanta. I danced almost every dance. I flirted with every guy at the party—even Mr. Bane, and he’s old enough to be my father. The party ended at eleven, and everyone headed home, but I was far from finished. Not nearly finished.” She shook her head. “I…I drove over to the Rusty Anchor.”
So far, Thomas had hardly reacted to anything she had told him, but as Jennie mentioned the Anchor, his eyes narrowed—a sign he was becoming angry. Jennie’s tears turned into sobbing now. “Thomas, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was singing ‘Anchors Aweigh’ as I drove across town. I thought about you, and how much fun we would have the following night, and the next second I imagined myself at the Anchor…the two somehow seemed to go together…”
She rested her elbows on the desk and held her head in her hands. As much as she wanted to stop before she told Thomas all the really horrible parts, Jennie knew she had to continue. She’d left him once, without any explanation, this time she owed him the truth. At least then he wouldn’t need two years
to move on without her.
Jennie took a deep breath. “I…I…” She allowed her eyes a quick glance at Thomas, but looked away before the sight of him caused her to lose her courage. “Thomas, I walked through the front door of the Anchor almost naked. I showed off my body. I…I wanted to party.” She wiped her tears and raised her head again, but Thomas had turned to face the window. Jennie knew he understood what she meant.
“I was ready. The guys were more than ready. It would have been a long, wild party if Kara and Ms. Watkins hadn’t burst through the door and dragged me away.”
He spun to face her. “Ms. Watkins? Your principal saw you?”
Jennie nodded. “It was just horrible.”
She caught Thomas’s eye. “It all seems to make sense at the time. It doesn’t occur to me I’m hurting anyone, Thomas, that I’m doing anything wrong.”
She raised her hands, as if in prayer. “How does that work? How could I not realize what I’m doing? How could I go to the Rusty Anchor to party and think of dinner with you at the same time? That’s crazy.”
She heaved a sigh. Her shameful secret was out now. “I can’t control myself, Thomas. I was good for fourteen years, and still I fell back. I’m on medication again, but I can’t tell you that in the future—two years, five years, ten maybe—I won’t do it again. I don’t trust myself anymore, Thomas. You can’t possibly trust me.”
In the silence, she could hear the rain beating against the window. She could hear Louisa babbling, as if she were carrying on a conversation with a bear dressed like a London policeman.
“I was expecting you to ask me to marry you tomorrow night. If you were, I can’t possibly say yes. You hear people say they are broken, and that’s how I feel. I don’t work right. I thought I had been repaired, but I don’t believe it’s possible.”
“I’m sorry.”
What did that mean? Was he sorry she had done the things she’d done? Sorry she couldn’t control herself? Sorry that, no, they couldn’t marry and he would not be asking her?
Once and Future Wife Page 23
