A Woman Loved

by T. B. Markinson

  Since I had my back to her, I quietly released a cleansing breath and then ventured into the danger zone. “I’m not sure Ethan is the best to dispense marriage advice. He’s a special case. You know this.”

  “He’s married, though.” Maddie said it as if Ethan was the only rational person she’d listen to about the subject.

  “Yes. Lots of people in this world are married. Getting married doesn’t automatically qualify you as an expert in relationships. Right, Demi?” I kissed the bottoms of her pink feet. “I’m going to eat your feet.”

  “Fffffttt.” She giggled, releasing a spray of spit bubbles.

  Ignoring Demi’s cuteness, Maddie continued. “But Ethan’s miserable. What if Gabe and I get married and I end up like that? And let’s not forget, as you mentioned earlier, the last time I was engaged, I dumped the groom on our wedding day. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to nuptials. And said humiliated groom is currently downstairs. The whole thing is messed up. What’s wrong with me? Why did I think a relationship with Gabe could work out? Happiness isn’t for me. Nor are relationships.”

  And why come to me about this?

  Channel Sarah, Lizzie.

  I snapped Demi’s pants back in place, swept her into my arms, and flipped around to see Maddie’s red-rimmed eyes and Ollie’s uncharacteristic worried expression.

  Now what?

  I took a seat in the rocking chair next to hers. “I’m not sure you should focus on your engagement with Peter, which had issues—”

  “He was cheating on me. You can say it.”

  I turned my head to meet her combative eyes. “Do you think Gabe is cheating on you?”

  “No.” Her voice was meek, and her eyes zeroed in on the pattern of Ollie’s blond hair that went every which way.

  “Do you think he’s the cheating type?”

  “No, but what if down the road, he does? Or I do? There’s no guarantee—”

  “There isn’t with anything in life. Not just marriage,” I cut her off. “I can get creamed by a semi while riding my bike tomorrow.”

  “You aren’t helping.” She rested her head against the wooden chair.

  “What do you want me to say? That no one in your marriage would cheat? I can’t. That you’ll always be happy. You won’t. But I can tell you, you won’t know if marriage is right for you until you try.” She seemed unmoved, so I added, “Look at Sarah and me. We have a happy marriage, at least seventy percent of the time. Two beautiful kids. A house full of crazy family members and friends intent on destroying Christmas, but I wouldn’t change it. This is life. This is family. You can take it or leave it. But ask yourself what you’ll gain if you never step outside your comfort zone.” I squeezed her thigh. “And, take it from someone who knows; staying a party of one out of fear is the loneliest feeling.”

  Maddie remained quiet.

  Laughter and beginning chords of “Silent Night” from downstairs trickled into the nursery. I stood, placing Demi on my hip. “I should get back downstairs. You want to hang out here for a bit with Ollie? She’s a great thinking buddy.”

  She shook her head, eliciting a smile from Ollie. “Do you want more eggnog, Ollie Dollie?”

  “I knew it!” I feigned being outraged, placing my free hand on my empty hip, and gave Maddie my best hairy eyeball.

  Maddie got to her feet, a little slower than usual. “You know, Lizzie, when I least expect it, you can offer semi-decent advice.”

  I placed Demi’s hand over my mouth, speaking through the tiny splayed fingers. “Don’t tell anyone. With the madhouse downstairs, I’d be huddling with different peeps all night dishing out Lizzie pearls of wisdom. Life is so”—I stressed this word, adding a gazillion Os—“much easier when everyone thinks you’re a moron.” I kissed Demi’s fingertips, receiving the most wonderful laughter in return.

  Downstairs, Helen pried Demi from my hip. “Ethan’s looking for you.” She jerked her head in the direction of the library.

  “My work is never done,” I whispered to myself as I stomped off to the kitchen to fix a cup of eggnog, knowing deep in my bones I’d need liquid courage.

  Ethan paced from one bookshelf on the south side of the room to the other. “She’s not answering my calls or texts.”

  “Who?” I asked in slim hopes he’d fall for it, and part of me prayed he’d say Mrs. Claus.

  He growled at me, pivoting like a soldier on the parade ground, and headed off in the opposite direction, but only a few feet before he reached the furthest point.

  My go-to of playing dumb obviously wasn’t going to cut it.

  “How’s Casey taking it? Being away from her mom on Christmas Eve?” While her dad fumed in my library?

  “She’s Casey. Too wise for the rest of us.” He waved a limp hand in the air.

  I perched on the arm of the couch nearest to the exit. “I’m sure it’s still hard for her. Being intelligent doesn’t shield you from this.” I waved to his approaching form, slightly intimidated by his grimace and sheer height.

  “What do you want me to do?” he said through gritted teeth. “My marriage is falling apart. It’s not like women are lining up to be with me. Lisa,” his voice cracked. “She’s the only one who ever understood me. Accepted my quirks.”

  I nodded, knowing he was speaking the truth.

  “But, I can’t just give in to Lisa all the time to keep her in my life.” His expression morphed into steely resolve, which looked like it took great effort to accomplish. “We’re barely surviving financially with just one child. I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, wondering if the electricity or gas is still on. Or if we’ll be able to afford groceries on Saturday. Every time my debit card is swiped, I hold my breath, waiting for it to go through. Student loans, mortgage, insurance.” He stopped mid-step and turned to me. “What if one of us gets sick? Really sick and our health insurance won’t cover the treatments? Then what?” He placed both hands on top of his head, straining to breathe, and the color drained from his face.

  Was he in the midst of a panic attack?

  I set my eggnog on the coffee table and hopped to my feet, ushering him to a seat. He reached for my drink, but I preempted him by asking, “Do you need some water?”

  He nodded.

  I retreated to the bar and grabbed a bottled water from the mini-fridge. “Here.” I squatted, placing a hand on his thigh.

  Ethan twisted the cap off the Evian bottle and gulped the cold water. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

  “Have you talked to Lisa about all this?”

  He raised his left shoulder. “Some of it.”

  “I think it’s time you two had a full-on reckoning. Lay out all of your worries. She can do the same. But, Ethan, you shouldn’t be the only one shouldering all the financial worry. You and Lisa are a team. Both of you work. Both of you should go over the finances together. Let her in to shoulder some of this.”

  He balked. “Why should she be as stressed as I am all the time?”

  I peered through his coke-bottle glasses. “That’s life and marriage.”

  “She doesn’t handle money matters well.” He clung onto the water bottle like he was afraid some force would strip him of it.

  I bobbed my head. “Well, she’s not handling you cutting her out, either. Is her mom really in the hospital?”

  “Yeah, I think so. We couldn’t afford the airfare for all of us to go.”

  Lisa’s mom had been diagnosed with emphysema right after Thanksgiving, another reason why Lisa would be furious with Ethan for smoking.

  “I get that. Does she know that’s why you’re here with Casey instead of with her during this trying time?”

  “Casey wanted to be here. She refused to go before I even said we couldn’t afford it. Lisa’s parents are… protective, and with everything that’s going on...” He left the rest unsaid.

  I hadn’t met them, but if they suspected Eth
an and Lisa were on the rocks, I imagined they’d make things even more difficult, either by trying to interfere or taking Lisa’s side, putting Casey in the middle of the feud.

  Not wanting to get into that topic, I said, “We love having Casey, but shouldn’t Lisa know the truth? Do you really want her to think Casey prefers being here? And what about you? What excuse did you give her for you staying behind, knowing Sarah and I would have welcomed Casey with open arms? Lisa has to be wondering why you aren’t there.”

  “Someone has to look after our daughter.” His voice was brusque.

  I groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t put it that way.”

  “W-well, it’s true,” he stuttered.

  “Partly true.” My knees were killing me from squatting, so I sat on the couch next to him. “You of all people know how dangerous it is to keep things from your spouse. How many times have you counseled me on this very topic?” I nudged his leg with mine. “Ethan, you have to talk to her.”

  He reached into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone. “How, when she won’t answer my calls?”

  “Do you really think this is the conversation to have over the phone? When she gets home and recovers from dealing with her mom’s illness, sit her down and show her the numbers. Tell her how scared you are about financial ruin and the things you haven’t told anyone else, including me. And”—I squeezed his thigh—“this will be the hard part since you always think you’re right, listen to what she has to say. Maybe things aren’t as bad as you’re making them out to be.”

  “Says the woman who has more money than God.” He took a tug of water, slopping some onto his sweater.

  “Uh, that brings me to a touchier subject. You know, if you ever need any—”

  He held up a hand. “I’m not taking any of your money.”

  We locked eyes. “Fine. I’ll give it to Casey. She’d probably invest it in the next rage and rake in millions.”

  “If only I’d invested in Bitcoin.”

  “One of my greatest regrets as well,” I mocked.

  “Do you even know what it is? Just a few years ago, you were listening to audiobooks on cassette until Sarah purchased an iPod and uploaded your books and her music for you.” He jabbed his elbow into my side.

  “Now I have a Kindle and have mastered one-click purchasing.” I demonstrated with my finger.

  “La-di-da!”

  “Welcome back. Now let’s go out there and spread some fucking Christmas joy!”

  Chapter Eight

  Peter and Tie, along with Rose and Troy, stood near the Christmas tree in the living room. The fire behind the glass doors roared, and the orange and red flames reflected in Tie’s eyes, reminding me of a devil flick Maddie and Sarah had watched recently. Was that a sign for how the holiday would go? Or was I imagining things knowing Tie’s propensity for stirring shit as much as humanely possible?

  Rose asked, “Do you two have any travel plans coming up for the New Year? I’m trying to convince Troy to fly to Italy over his spring holiday.” She threaded her arm through Troy’s.

  This was news to me.

  Was Italy the honeymoon destination? And, from what I remembered, Troy wasn’t the best traveler. Motion sickness or maybe it was something else.

  “Oh, Peter works way too hard.” Tie stressed works and then turned to Rose. “You’re so lucky you’re only connected to the Petries via Sarah’s marriage.” Tie leaned in close with the pretense of whispering in Rose’s ear but said loud enough for all to hear, “As you know, the Petries have issues with fidelity.” She jerked her head toward my father and Helen, who were speaking with Allen and Gabe across the room. “Lizzie seems to be the only good egg in the family. Sarah is truly lucky.”

  My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, and both Rose and I avoided looking at the other. For years, Rose had loved to make engine revving sounds as a way to remind me if I hurt her daughter again she’d mow me down with her car.

  Had Rose forgiven me completely now that I’d helped smooth the waters with Sarah after she started dating Troy? Or would Rose mention that before Sarah and I married I hadn’t been as well-behaved as Tie implied?

  Or did Tie know more than I thought? Was she about to plunge into my past to cause even more issues for the night, Tie-phoon style?

  Peter bristled.

  Troy said, “Uh, I do think I can make Italy work if we wait until summer. My therapist—”

  “There you are. How is everyone?” Sarah looped her arm through mine.

  There was dead silence.

  I said, “We’re talking about summer vacation plans. I think it’s the snow making everyone dream of warm days in beautiful places.”

  “Oh, Lizzie. You crack me up. Always trying to smooth over everything that goes on in this family. Don’t you get tired of lying and covering for everyone?” Tie forced her arm through Peter’s. Was she mimicking Sarah? Rose? Or ruffling Peter’s feathers with physical contact?

  Sarah’s eyes glanced over me and then pounced on Tie. “You know what, Tie, I could use your opinion about the turkey. Lizzie is useless in the kitchen, and I’m not used to cooking such a large bird.”

  Peter’s laughter cut through the air. “Tiffany can’t even heat up a can of beans. Good luck.” He never referred to her as Tie, like the rest of us. Truth be told, he rarely called me Lizzie, my preferred method of being addressed.

  Sarah was usually better at diversionary tactics, and I worried about the rest of the night.

  Tie patted her husband on the cheek. “I’m not the one with a bun in the oven.” She flipped around to Sarah. “I’d love to talk turkey with you.”

  The two of them left.

  Peter swallowed, ran his hand through his hair, and then departed without another word.

  I mulled over her reference to having a bun in the oven, but forced it from my mind, not having the mental bandwidth for yet another obstacle to the perfect Christmas. Could a Tie-phoon strike if no one paid her any attention? And would Peter be so stupid to get another woman pregnant? My eyes landed on my father and his second wife, who had been his mistress for nearly two decades. Oh God… Neither of us had great role models. That didn’t excuse all, but it did have an impact on us, the unloved children.

  Troy released a low whistle. “Is she always like that?”

  “Yes. I should go help Sarah, but I don’t know… about large birds.” I stayed rooted in place as if physically unable to move.

  “Trust me, Lizzie, my daughter will put her in her place. It’s best to stay here. And…” She left the rest unsaid.

  I didn’t say anything either. Surely Rose caught the bun in the oven reference. Perhaps she was of the same mind—don’t acknowledge. Not on Christmas Eve. Thinking that made me slightly queasy, but honestly, I didn’t trust Tie. Or Peter. Why was this my problem?

  Troy, probably sensing there was more to the conversation than he realized, started discussing the snow outside the glass veranda door. “It’s really starting to come down. Do you think we’ll still be able to go caroling? I’m really looking forward to it.”

  I wasn’t.

  I was tempted to create a fake emergency of some sort and kick everyone out. What would qualify? Some type of health quarantine, but it wasn’t like I could conjure up Typhoid Mary to scare the bejesus out of everyone.

  I wished I could just stand on a chair, whistle, and say, “All of you are being terrible. Leave.”

  Knowing my luck, the storm would force everyone to stay the night, and that was the very definition of Hell.

  As an atheist, I didn’t believe in Hell.

  If there was one, though, it would be filled with Petries.

  Maybe it would be best if we didn’t have any more children.

  But if we did, no way in hell would I let any of them marry or even associate with a woman like Tie. What in the world had Peter seen in her in the first place? They’d started off as an affair, while Peter was engaged to Maddie. Rule number one: never marry th
e mistress. They knew all the dirt and held resentments right from the start. But Dad and Helen seemed happy. Or had the excitement started to wear off now that they’d married? My brain was spinning like tires on ice, unable to grip anything solid.

  Sarah returned minus Tie, and she jerked her head, indicating she wanted a word in private.

  Rose placed a hand on my shoulder. “Families, Lizzie, can be so very hard.”

  Tell me about it.

  I approached Sarah, brushing my lips against her cheek. “There’s my lovely wife. How’d it go?”

  “We need to keep a close eye on that one. She’s up to something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I have a feeling it’s going to be epic.”

  “Do you want me to keep her by my side?”

  Sarah gave me her you are so adorable smile. “Thanks but maybe Ethan would be a good candidate. He has experience with angry women.”

  I laughed. “And you don’t think I do?”

  Sarah ignored my comment. “And Maddie. That’s complicated…” She tapped a fingernail against her front teeth. “The Peter connection, obviously.” Sarah wheeled about and left me in the dust. “Ethan, my dear, can you help me flip the bird?” Sarah added, “The turkey, I mean.”

  Sarah needed a new excuse to pull guests to the side for her little confabs. Even I was catching on to the turkey gambit, and I wasn’t the type to catch on to things very easily. At least that was what everyone always said about me.

  Tie sidled up to me all on her lonesome. “The house looks amazing. And all your trees, how much time did it take to decorate? Or did you hire someone like Maddie? That’s what Peter does. And your father. They say the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

  Another veiled reference to my past mistake?

  I gulped, not willing to share the actual amount of time we’d spent getting the house ready. Sharing details with a she-devil was on my never do list. “Oh, Sarah is quite the organizer, and her battle plans make everything as easy as pie.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

  This was only a little white lie.