Norma realized the boy might be expecting an explanation. What more could she say? Herman’s idea of working at a relationship meant spending enough time away that the difficulties paled in the light of reunion.
And you were fine with that. Until recently, when she’d begun to wonder if she even loved him.
“I wanted to hate him for choosing you, but Mom told me she’d never expected anything else.”
Heat surged through Norma’s chest. How could Herman treat that woman and his child so callously?
The thought shocked her. Suddenly, she was on their side? She was taking up the cause of her husband’s mistress? She shook her head.
Herman’s car rolled up the gravel drive. She could see a flash of its light paint from where she sat. A sudden urge to confront him had her standing. She rushed into the kitchen, arriving at nearly the same moment he did.
He fumbled a bunch of flowers, a colorful arrangement of daisies dyed in bright shades of pink, purple, and yellow. The sight of them melted her irritation.
Early in their marriage, she’d asked why he never brought her flowers. “Cut flowers die,” he’d said. “When we get our own home, I’ll bring you potted flowers so they can last forever.”
And he had. The colorful blooms in the beds around the house were nearly all gifts from him.
Herman stepped closer, held the flowers toward her. “These aren’t as beautiful as you, but…”
Her fingers trembled as she took the bouquet.
“Are the vases still above the refrigerator?” He moved toward the cabinet as he spoke.
Norma said nothing as she watched him reach one of the vases in the high cupboard. He turned back to her, stopping. She hadn’t moved.
“Want me to get the water?” he asked.
“Why? You think cut flowers are a waste of money.”
Herman walked to the sink on an arcing path so he didn’t brush against her. Norma cocked her hip into the counter, studied the pull of the plaid shirt over his broad shoulders. Warmth uncurled low in her belly. How could she still find him attractive after his betrayal?
“I’m trying to make things right.”
The bitter laugh spilled out again. How she hated the sound of it, especially since it reflected the true state of her heart. “Flowers won’t make up for your infidelity.”
He set the vase on the counter and faced her. “My heart has always been faithful to you.”
She shook her head. “That’s how you’re going to excuse this? You have a son. You had another woman. You spent years with her while I was waiting for you at home.” She tossed the flowers on the counter, paced away. “Clueless. Your little submissive wife.”
“There’s no excuse.”
His quiet admission stopped her in her tracks. Emotion fluttered behind her breastbone and tightened her throat as she faced him.
“All that time, we made love and I begged you to give me a child.” She ground her teeth to force the swell of tears down her throat. “You must have laughed at my foolishness.”
“Never.” He stepped toward her, arms outstretched.
She’d fallen into those strong arms for more than half her life, but Norma backed away from them. Wrenching in her chest made her gasp.
“Poor Norma. It’s her own fault she can’t have children.” She waved her hands toward the back door. “Because you had a child.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
Herman stiffened. “It was a one-night stand. But when she got pregnant—”
Norma gasped and clutched her stomach. They had tried for years, and he expected her to believe he slept with a woman one time and got her pregnant? It couldn’t be that easy.
His pale eyes flickered between her stomach and face. “I couldn’t believe it either, but I had a duty to the boy. You know how my father—”
The back door creaked open. The proof of his adultery and his ability to father children stood there, empty glass in hand. His eyes were wide, and he started to back up.
“Don’t go.” Norma blurted the words. “You have more right here than I do.”
“Norma…” Herman started.
But she didn’t want to hear more lies. She spun away and rushed up the stairs.
Her heart nearly pounded its way out of her chest by the time she reached her room. She closed the door, panting for breath.
“Why, Lord? What did I do to deserve this?”
The question was an old one. She’d begged for its answer during so many fruitless years of fertility treatments and boxed pregnancy tests. Days of hope when her period was delayed, followed by soul crushing despair after the tests proved it false.
She stumbled to the bed and crumpled on the soft mattress. Sobs overwhelmed her until she could hardly catch her breath.
Just kill me.
Then the suffering would end.
10
Herman poured the thick, dark coffee, inhaling the rich scent of mornings. Steam from the over-sized mug swirled upward. His fingers curled through the handle, and he raised the barn-red cup to his lips, slurping the aromatic familiarity.
The mug made him smile. Norma had purchased it many years before at some flea market. Printing scrawled on the side proclaimed, “It’s still only one cup.”
Norma had gotten it for him after a doctor advised him to cut back to a single cup of coffee per day. She’d discovered almost eighteen ounces of liquid fit into the mug, but she never nagged him to obey the doctor’s orders.
She’d always been supportive of his ideas. Except for those years when her energy was focused on a pregnancy that never happened, she’d been an ideal wife.
And he didn’t deserve her loyalty.
He sipped the coffee. Liquid scalded his tongue and warmed a path into his stomach. He stared out the window over the kitchen sink and distracted himself by contemplating the pasture. Several notices in the hardware store advertised pasture rentals for summer livestock grazing. Generally, he allowed Fritz Travers to graze his herd there, but considering his financial situation, perhaps Herman should try to sublet it.
The stairs creaked, and Norma breezed into the room. Her hair and makeup reflected keen care. A floral dress covered by a royal blue cardigan accentuated her womanly figure. He scanned her with appreciative eyes.
“You’re here.” Her hand flew to her chest, as if he’d snuck up on her.
He grunted. Where else would he be?
She swiveled toward the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs before bumping the door closed with her hip. She gave him a wide berth as she pulled a small bowl and plate from the cupboard a few feet from him. “It’s Monday.”
“Want some coffee?”
She halted, as if his voice was a gigantic freeze ray. She stared at him, surprise clear in the depths of her brown eyes.
“Maybe half a cup.” The softness of her voice caused him to lean toward her. A gentle pattering took up in the corner of his chest.
He smirked, raising his mug toward her.
She shook her head. “A regular cup.” She twisted away, but not before he saw her mouth curving into an answering smile.
His heart leapt like a steeple chaser. He set his mug on the counter to fill a cup for her, and the pot trembled as he poured the brew.
“I’m scrambling eggs. Are you hungry?”
His stomach roared in response to the offer.
She hadn’t cooked specifically for him since he’d returned from Austin with Adonis. A few times she’d made enough food for him to eat, but she served herself, ate, and left the rest sitting in the kitchen rather than inviting him to join her.
The food hadn’t tasted as good reheated. Or perhaps all he could taste was the guilt of his betrayal.
“Thanks.” He set her coffee beside her elbow and picked up his own mug.
He leaned against the counter. She moved with precision, pulling out utensils and a pan. The whisk sang as she beat the eggs together.
Melting butter sweetened the air. A sizzle announced when she added the eggs to the pan. She twirled from the stove with the dirty bowl and nearly collided with him.
His hands steadied her. Warmth from her round shoulders skittered up his arms, and he sidled closer.
Her gaze jerked to his. Wide brown eyes penetrated his soul. The familiar connection hummed between them, but she scuttled from his grasp before he could decide what to do about it.
Dishes clattered in the sink, and the water ran briefly before she returned to the stove, briskly stirring the eggs with a spatula.
Herman plugged in the toaster and pushed two slices down to brown. His arm snaked around her to retrieve the dish of butter she’d used for cooking. The hair on his arm bristled at the contact with her smooth forearms.
Her sudden intake of breath started palpitations in his chest. He leaned closer, inhaling the fruity scent of her hair. He loved that she never caked on perfumes. Instead, she chose natural-smelling combinations for her lotions and shampoos.
She stiffened as his chest brushed her side. He resisted the urge to put a kiss on the spot where her neck met her shoulders, what he called her sweetest kissable target.
“Want a slice of toast?”
She shook her head.
He withdrew slowly, the crock of butter in his hand. Every inch of him wanted to stay beside her, hold her until she forgave him. But he figured it wasn’t the best idea with a hot skillet within reach.
By the time the toast popped and he’d buttered and cut the slices, she had two plates of scrambled eggs on the table. She poured herself a small glass of juice and snagged a brown-spotted banana from the counter before she sat across from him.
Herman bowed his head while she whispered a short quick prayer, and then he shoveled a forkful of steaming eggs into his mouth. The fluffy goodness woke his taste buds. Even the toast crunched with delight against his teeth.
“You were home last week, too.” She cradled the coffee cup in her hands, glancing between the steaming brew and him.
He nodded and swallowed the mouthful of food.
“Why? Did you take time off because of…” She blew and sipped her coffee.
Herman’s chest squeezed around his lungs. He’d taken time off, all right. But it hadn’t been planned, and it wasn’t any sort of vacation to catch up with the son he hadn’t seen in five years.
“Macadam’s downsizing.” He gulped down his coffee, hoping the heat would ease the tension in his chest.
Norma’s eyelashes fluttered, and she looked into his eyes for an instant before dropping her gaze to her plate. Her sigh was slightly impatient. “What does that mean, Herman?”
He swallowed more coffee and gripped the cup.
“Pink slips. And one of them came to me.”
Silence stretched between them. Herman set the cup down and fingered the crust of his whole wheat toast. When he finally glanced in her direction, Norma blinked owlishly at him.
“You can’t mean they fired you?”
“Laid me off.” He nodded.
His next bite of eggs lacked the same appeal as the ones before it. The pepper he’d generously added stung the roof of his mouth.
“But…you’ve worked there forever.”
Herman chewed another bite, gathering his explanation. “Old Man Macadam retired two years ago. His son doesn’t have the same appreciation for loyal employees.” No point in mentioning that sales had been slacking off for three years, and he’d already suffered two demotions during that time. With pay cuts.
“What will you do?”
Herman cleaned his plate, using the last half of toast to push bits of eggs onto his fork. When he glanced up again, Norma gripped the edges of her own half-full plate, wide eyes staring at him.
“A severance package will tide us over for a couple months.”
She sipped her juice. “Why didn’t you tell me this last week?”
Herman jerked his brows upward. “We weren’t exactly speaking.”
She slammed the coffee cup on the table. Nothing sloshed out. “How many secrets are you keeping?”
Acid couldn’t have burned him more than the ugly tone of her voice. He opened his mouth to claim his innocence and shut it again. Any number of things about their financial situation, the house he owned in Austin, and his care of Adonis and Osaria might be considered a secret to Norma.
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Everything.”
He laid his fork across his plate and settled his fingers on the edge of the table. “I never meant to keep secrets. I didn’t want you to feel like less of a woman because…of the boy.”
“Less of a woman?” Her laugh was ugly and bitter. “You mean like a woman whose husband shacks up with someone else? Has a whole family behind her back?”
“I had a duty—”
“Duty?” she shrieked, and he flinched. This wasn’t the Norma he knew. He’d driven her to rail like a shrew. “What about your duty to me?”
He blinked and straightened. He’d never shirked his duty to her. He’d provided her with a fine home and everything she could want. Except the one thing she wanted most.
“You think you performed it, don’t you?” She shoved away from the table with a squeal of wood on wood. “I have this nice home, nice things, and don’t even have to work.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to deny what she’d said. He couldn’t.
She threw her hands up, collected her dishes, and stomped into the kitchen. Stoneware and silverware clattered into the porcelain sink. She returned to stand beside her chair, hands on her hips. Her chest heaved and cheeks flushed.
Herman’s senses revved. She was gorgeous.
“Faithfulness. That’s how you failed me.” She snatched the banana off the table. “You had a son. You know how much I wanted that.”
Herman struggled to his feet. She held up her hand, stilling him.
“Now you don’t have a job, and you can’t bother to tell me that either.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know you.”
Their stares clashed. A burn started in Herman’s stomach. His breath rasped.
“Maybe I never did.”
She snatched the truck keys from the hook near the doorway, stormed from the room, and slammed out the front door. The motor roared to life. Gravel spit from beneath the tires as she sped down the drive.
The burn migrated into his chest. Spikes of agony shot down his left arm. He tried to breathe, but the air seemed as thick as cement.
His knees buckled, sending him back into the chair. He clutched his chest.
She’d broken his heart, but he’d broken hers first.
11
A strangled groan echoed around the dining room. Herman struggled against the vise squeezing his chest and gasped for air. Dark spots danced at the edge of his vision. The agony of a thousand stakes being driven into his chest anchored him to the chair.
From somewhere beyond the dancing spots, he heard Adonis cry, “Dad!”
Even the sound of that word on the boy’s lips didn’t ease the pain. His fingers scrabbled against his chest. Adonis rushed to his side and jerked the chair away from the table. Herman grunted at the sudden motion.
Adonis pressed his ear to Herman’s chest. When he raised his head, he asked, “Can you hear me?”
The effort to bob his head sent pain radiating down both arms. Breath rasped along his throat like sandpaper, and he twitched, trying to escape the pain.
“Heart.” The strangled whisper wreaked more torture inside his ribcage.
Adonis thumped the center of Herman’s chest. The world wavered.
Herman sucked in a breath, and Adonis collapsed into the chair beside him.
“Are you okay?” The boy’s voice quivered.
Herman’s eyes closed. His chest shuddered, and his hand clenched and released as if he was running an air pump.
The little boy voice dredged up memories of wide, dark eyes and playing c
atch in the fading light, and a stream of chatter and questions.
Herman opened his eyes. His head lolled toward Adonis, who touched his shoulder.
“What happened?”
“Norma left.”
Adonis grimaced. “Are you having a heart attack?”
Herman shrugged. Thoughts circled his brain like crows over a carcass. Adonis’s voice rumbled on, but the words jumbled together. Memories flashed behind Herman’s eyelids. Years of seeking his father’s approval overlapped with instances when Adonis tugged at his sleeve, eyes desperate for a father’s endorsement.
Time slurred. Adonis asked him questions, and he tried to concentrate. His head nodded and lolled, but he couldn’t remember the questions or make his lips form an answer.
Norma left him. He broke her heart. He wasn’t any different than his father.
“We need to get to the hospital.” His son’s words penetrated the fog around his mind.
Adonis grappled for purchase on Herman’s arm. Herman shrugged out of the grip. “I just need to rest,” he muttered.
Somehow he scooted the heavy chair closer to the table. His hands trembled as they wrapped around the giant coffee mug.
Another pain sliced into his chest. Norma had walked out, and he’d failed her again.
Adonis disappeared then reappeared. Haze settled on Herman’s thoughts, and every breath took effort.
Suddenly, he was in the car. Was he dying? If he died, how would he be remembered? As a successful salesman or a cheating husband? Would anyone even care?
He curled his fingers over his chest, closing his eyes. His mother’s tired, lined face shimmered into focus. She slapped a bowl of watery potato soup in front of Herman, claiming she wasn’t hungry.
“I gave her everything.” His lips felt heavy as he mumbled.
“What?” Adonis sounded far away.
His dad hadn’t cheated. He never had time. He traveled from oil rig to oil rig, across Oklahoma and Texas. The offshore drillers had offered him more pay, but before he could take the job, a fire claimed his life. Roughnecking on a rig was dangerous, and Herman wouldn’t have married Norma if he’d planned to stay there.
Love's Little Secrets (Sweet Grove Romance Book 2; First Street Church #10) Page 6
