In Another Man’s Bed

by Francis Ray

  Once home, she hadn’t stopped until she’d moved all of her things to the guest bedroom. The maid thought Justine had moved because sleeping in their bed would have been too painful.

  The housekeeper was partially right. The rice-style bed was a reminder of his betrayal and of what a gullible fool Justine had been.

  Dressed, she grabbed her keys and purse off the dresser and went to the kitchen. The automatic coffeepot had the coffee ready. She poured herself a cup, added sugar and cream, then stared out the window as she sipped. The kitchen looked out onto the side of the house, where pink crepe myrtles grew surrounded by St. Augustine grass an inch thick and so green it looked artificial.

  Andrew had hired a lawn service along with a maid even before they moved into their house. With both of their busy schedules neither one of them had time to maintain the huge, landscaped yard or the forty-five hundred square feet of living space. Their dream home.

  Her prison.

  Justine’s slim fingers clenched on the handle of the delicate cup, a wedding gift. Many of their three hundred wedding guests had commented that they’d never seen a happier couple or one more in love. They’d been wrong, or had they? When had the lies started? How long had Andrew cheated, or was it his first time as he’d said? No matter. Once or a thousand, the betrayal couldn’t cut any deeper than it already had.

  Rinsing out the cup, she put it in the dishwasher. She’d go to the hospital to be with Beverly, and hope she’d be able to leave soon thereafter. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending to be the dutiful loving wife. But she had to. Other people depended on the illusion.

  “Andrew, you have a lot to answer for.”

  “Mrs. Crandall, your mother is wonderful,” Carolyn, the dark-haired head nurse for the seven-to-three shift, commented the moment Justine entered the ICCU patient area.

  “She sure is,” Sadie, the ward clerk, agreed, then grinned and patted her protruding abdomen. “She brought brownies. I’ll have to start my diet tomorrow.”

  Carolyn rolled her eyes. “You’re always saying that.”

  “And I always plan to,” Sadie said, her grin growing.

  Amid the laughter and good-natured ribbing, Justine hoped no one noticed that her steps had slowed. The few times her mother had visited, the nursing staff had relaxed the rules to allow all three women to be in the room instead of the required two.

  Not for the first time Justine wished the chief of staff, an old friend of Beverly’s from high school, and the nursing staff weren’t so accommodating. Taking a deep breath, Justine pushed open the door and paused. Beverly and her mother stood on either side at the head of the bed, staring down at Andrew as if they expected him to wake up and start talking. Both looked up as she entered.

  “Good morning, Justine. Look who’s here, Andrew.” In a lime green suit Beverly looked as crisp and as well turned out as she always did. Justine didn’t know how she managed. It was an effort at times for her to drag herself out of bed. Her mother looked equally well dressed in a black gabardine pants suit and white silk blouse.

  “Good morning, Justine.” Her mother greeted her as if the stilted conversation between them last night hadn’t happened. In public her mother was the epitome of a loving, supportive mother. When it was just the two of them they were awkward with each other, and the conversation always dragged.

  “Good morning, Mother, Beverly.” Justine let the door swing shut behind her. “Thank you for bringing the nursing staff the brownies.” She’d long since gotten over being hurt when her mother did for others and not her.

  Her mother had been room mother for each grade from pre-kindergarten through high school graduation. There had been very few years in which she hadn’t been a PTA officer. If there was a committee, her mother’s hand was usually the first to go up. Perhaps that was why she and Andrew hit it off. Both presented the perfect picture outwardly, but in actuality were frauds.

  “They deserve it for taking such good care of Andrew,” her mother said, visibly swallowing.

  Justine wondered, not for the first time, if, were she in that bed instead of Andrew, her mother would keep a vigil over her the way Beverly did. “Yes, they do.”

  “I was telling your mother that Andrew had a good night.” Beverly beamed down at her son lying lifeless on the white sheets.

  “That’s good to hear,” Helen said. “It will be so good to have him back with us.”

  Beverly smiled and patted Andrew’s still hand. “It’s just a matter of time. I feel it.”

  Justine glanced from one woman to the other. They continued to watch Andrew as if they expected him to open his eyes and sit up. “Did the doctor say anything different this morning?”

  Beverly rolled her eyes. “I don’t need him to tell me anything. I feel it. Mothers are instinctive, aren’t they, Helen?”

  “Yes,” her mother answered.

  If Beverly heard the hesitancy in Helen’s stilted voice, she didn’t comment.

  “Justine, you can take my place and keep Andrew company while Helen and I go for a cup of coffee.” Beverly picked up her black Louis Vuitton purse. “You can tell him all the wonderful things you’re going to do together when he comes home.”

  “Beverly, the doctor doesn’t—”

  “No.” Lips tight, Beverly held up her small hand to cut Justine off. “There’ll be no more negative talk in this room. Dr. Thomas will have a talk with the neurologist today. If he can’t keep an open mind, we’ll find one who will.”

  Justine didn’t want to point out that Dr. Lane didn’t appear to be the type to take orders from anyone. Not even the chief of staff.

  “Justine agrees wholeheartedly with you, don’t you?” her mother said, her lips pinched.

  Both women stared at Justine, almost daring her to challenge them. She was still a coward in so many ways, but only to a point. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Beverly smiled. Helen studied her, as if recalling that her daughter didn’t like confrontation and might appear to be agreeing while in actuality planning to go her own way, just as she had with the opening of the bookstore.

  Helen had thought Justine was crazy to leave her job as an elementary school librarian in Charleston to open a bookstore. Her mother had predicted she’d go broke in six months. Justine had gone ahead with her plans and hadn’t consulted her mother again. The success of the store hadn’t changed her mother’s opinion. She’d been to the store exactly three times since it had opened.

  “Go get your coffee,” Justine finally said.

  “Thank you.” Beverly went to the door. “We won’t be long.”

  Helen shoved the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Good-bye, Justine. We’ll talk later. I’m leaving from the coffee shop for work.”

  Justine hadn’t expected her mother to come back up. She was there for Andrew, for Beverly, to play the part of the good mother, but not for her daughter. “Good-bye, Mother.”

  The door closed behind them. Justine wrapped her arms around herself and looked anywhere except at the bed. The day couldn’t get any worse.

  Two hours later she discovered she was wrong. Her cell phone rang just as she stepped on the elevator. Since it wasn’t Brianna’s dial tone, she ignored the call. If it was the bookstore, she’d be there in twenty minutes.

  With Andrew’s condition so unstable since he was transferred to Charleston, she hadn’t been to work for longer than a couple of hours at a time. She had a good manager in Iris, but it was past time for her to take care of things herself.

  By the time she pulled out onto the street from the parking garage, there had been three more calls. Deciding the caller wasn’t going to give up, she fished the cell phone out of her oversize drawstring bag at a signal light and answered. “Hello.”

  “Justine, good morning,” Marcus greeted. “I hate to bother you so early, but could you come over here?”

  “Here?” she said, but she already had a good idea.

  “The foundat
ion.”

  No! her mind shouted. She didn’t want to look at all those sympathetic faces and hear all those platitudes. “Why?” If it didn’t mean people would lose their jobs or all the projects be scuttled, she wouldn’t care what happened to Andrew’s growing empire.

  “Please, it’s important.” Marcus paused, then continued. “You haven’t been here since Andrew’s accident. People need to know they have to keep hope alive, they need to know that things will be all right. Your presence will reassure them.”

  A horn blast startled Justine into looking up. She pulled through the green light.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I understand why you haven’t been by. I know how much you love Andrew, how painful it would be if you came here,” he went on to say.

  She glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Everyone thought they knew what she was feeling. She’d never known until Andrew’s accident that so much sympathy could be draining.

  “Justine, it’s important.”

  Marcus wasn’t the type to complain. The firm was more important than Andrew or her hurt feelings. Regardless of Andrew’s deceit, he had touched people’s lives and helped them to be better, happier. Too bad he hadn’t listened to himself when he discussed honesty and fidelity. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Thank you, Justine.” The relief was clearly heard in his deep voice. “I’ll be waiting in the front of the building for you. I’ll okay it with the security guard to leave your car in front.”

  Justine disconnected the phone and prepared to be inundated by well-wishers with questions. Lord, give me strength.

  The Having It All foundation occupied the entire top floor of an office building near downtown Charleston. The white facade gleamed in the morning sun. As promised, Marcus was waiting on the sidewalk for her. Andrew would have sent someone unless the person arriving had very deep pockets.

  Marcus was at the door of the van by the time it stopped. “Thank you, Justine.”

  “The foundation is important.” She got out of the van, her hands gripping the strap of her shoulder bag.

  “I knew you’d understand.” Taking her arm, he went inside the building. The sympathetic gazes of people followed them to the elevators on the first floor. “They mean well.”

  She glanced up at him. She hadn’t thought he was so perceptive. She’d been so wrong about so many people.

  They stepped on the elevator and Marcus punched 10. Justine concentrated on trying to relax. Thankfully, they went straight to their floor. The shiny metal panel doors slid open.

  The first thing she saw, as every visitor did, was the life-size oil portrait of her and Andrew. The artist had captured what he thought he saw, a young couple very much in love and extremely happy. Dressed in a light blue sleeveless dress, she leaned back against Andrew, who wore a blue shirt and tan slacks, his back braced against the trunk of a big oak tree, his arms circling Justine, his hands clasped at her waist.

  “Andrew loved that picture and what it represented. Total love, total commitment for a lifetime.”

  She couldn’t say anything. Apparently Marcus understood. Taking her arm, they continued down the hall. People going about their normal business in the office saw her and immediately came to take her hand or give her a hug or both.

  More employees came out of offices as news spread that she was there. The foundation had a staff of over fifty. All she could think of was to hold on, that she could get through this.

  Just when she didn’t think she could stand another sympathetic, often tearful face, Marcus intervened. “Justine appreciates your concern and prayers. But why don’t we let her have a chance to catch her breath?”

  “Thank you for caring,” Justine mumbled as people tipped their heads and moved away.

  “Let’s go in here, where we can talk,” Marcus said.

  Justine readily followed him, only to stop short when they entered Andrew’s outer office where his secretary had her desk.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Marcus said, for the first time sounding nervous. “Andrew’s office is bigger than mine. I needed the space for meetings and think sessions. Except for moving my files in here, nothing has changed.”

  “It’s all right,” Justine said. She passed through the outer office, briefly wondering where Andrew’s secretary, Teresa, was, then pushed open the door to Andrew’s office herself.

  She didn’t expect the stab of remorse on seeing the executive desk and Andrew not sitting behind it. They’d picked the oversize mahogany piece out together. He had joked about one day coming back when everyone was gone and making love on top of it. They never had, but had he made love to someone else there?

  The thought made her remember her trip to the cabin to seduce him. She cringed inside. Perhaps that was why Andrew had strayed, perhaps she wasn’t daring or spontaneous enough.

  “If you’d rather, we can go into my office,” Marcus said.

  “No.” Crossing the carpeted floor on trembling legs, Justine took a seat in one of the twin blue leather chairs in front of the desk. Trying to find the reason behind Andrew’s unfaithfulness would drive her insane.

  Closing the door, Marcus went to her. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  She shook her head. What she wanted was to get out of this office as soon as possible.

  Marcus nodded, then pulled the matching chair around so he could face her as he sat down. “I can see this is difficult for you, so I’ll be quick. Andrew was a dynamic force and following in his footsteps is a big job, perhaps impossible. He drew people to him.”

  Especially women. Justine glanced away as if Marcus could read her mind.

  “He was booked a year out. Programs had to be canceled, money refunded.”

  Her gaze slowly came back to Marcus. She’d never thought about money. Kent Taylor, Andrew’s business manager, the business manager for the foundation, had come to her the first day at the hospital and told her not to worry about finances. She hadn’t. Money had been the last thing on her mind. “Is the foundation broke?”

  “No, no,” Marcus hastened to assure her. “Andrew was a smart man, and Kent watches the bottom line like a hawk.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Marcus rubbed his hand over his head. “Nina says I always take the long road. But this is hard.”

  “Say it.”

  “We’re fine financially, will be for a while, but with the cancellation of the retreats and seminars, we won’t be if things continue in this way.”

  “Andrew . . .” Justine began.

  “We’ll come through this,” Marcus said, his voice as determined as Beverly’s. “Long ago I promised him I’d take care of you, his mother, and the foundation in that order if anything happened to him. I don’t break promises.”

  With so many loyal people who loved Andrew, why hadn’t he been worthy of their trust and respect? “I know you will.”

  There was a knock on the door. Marcus stood. “That’s Kent. Come in.”

  In walked a rotund man with wire-rimmed glasses, dressed as fashionably as Marcus was out of fashion. The pocket square matched the silk tie, the wingtips were Italian, and so was the fine gray wool pin-striped suit.

  “Justine, it’s good of you to come. I know this isn’t easy.”

  She realized something as he gently squeezed her hands and stared down into her face. “It hasn’t been easy on any of us.”

  Kent pulled a chair from the small conference table that seated six. “How much has Marcus told you?”

  She repeated what Marcus had said. “What can be done?” she asked.

  The two men exchanged nervous glances. “One thought was for you to lead a benefit recept—”

  “No.” The word was out before he finished.

  “Told you,” Marcus said. “I’m for restarting the retreats.”

  “But how?” Justine asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Me,” Marcus said, holding her gaze. “With your permission, of course. I’
ve studied under Andrew. I can offer the same solid foundation. We wanted to see how you felt first.”

  She honestly couldn’t see Marcus taking Andrew’s place. “I don’t know.”

  He smiled wryly. “I know Andrew dressed better, looked better, and charmed better.” His expression turned serious. “But I want to do this; I feel I can help people. Nina promised to pick out the clothes.” He chuckled softly. “She’s been wanting to do that for a long time anyway.”

  “We’d start small,” Kent said as if he sensed her reservations. “A retreat in Summerville with about fifty men.”

  Andrew’s goal to help marriages stay strong was a good one. Both of them had grown up without their fathers in the home. “If you’re asking my permission, you have it.”

  Both men blew out breaths. “Thank you, Justine,” Marcus said. “Nina will be with me for the first couple of meetings, just as you were with Andrew. Seeing a happy couple helps people believe.”

  Justine said nothing. Luckily Marcus continued. “I don’t mind saying that I’m proud of her and blessed to have her in my life. Sometimes I can’t believe she chose me.”

  Justine had often thought the same thing. Now she understood why. “Anyone who knows you can answer that. You’re a man of strength and character.”

  “Thank you. Andrew always said you were incredible,” Marcus said.

  Justine concentrated on keeping the smile on her face. “Thank you.”

  “There’s one more favor we have to ask,” Kent said, watching her closely.

  Unconsciously, Justine pressed her back against the leather back of the chair. “What?”

  Kent leaned forward. “There is a ministerial luncheon in about an hour at the Doubletree hotel. Many of those attending have pledged their support both financially and personally to the senior citizen complex that the foundation is spearheading. Ground breaking is scheduled in two months.”

  She knew what was coming next. “You want me to attend the luncheon.”