by Jewel Allen
And of course, there was Kennedy. Invisible to me the past several weeks, years, even, as wrapped up as I was in my own concerns. Concerns that surely should be secondary to my family’s.
I felt so inadequate, I didn’t even know where to start to fix our marriage.
I slumped back into a chair, rested my elbows on the table and clasped my hands together, hiding my face in shame. Despite all my vows to the contrary, I was turning out like my father. Even though I didn’t drink like he did, I still abandoned my family when they needed me most.
I had made a commitment when we married that I would defend Kennedy and our family from the forces of the world. I defended structures while falling short on my duty with my own home.
I pictured a life without my little family, without Kennedy. Tears coursed down my cheeks and I didn’t bother to wipe them away.
Nothing else mattered if I didn’t win them back.
Minutes ticked past. The sense of desolation kicked into a different emotion.
Oddly enough, I felt hope.
Hope that this separation may help both of us see each other in a new light. Hope that if I do my part, Kennedy would recognize that and give me another chance. Hope that I could put back the pieces of our fractured life and perhaps even make us stronger. Together.
I determined as I stared at the kitchen wall through blurry eyes, that no matter what it took, I would do everything in my power to make her fall in love with me again.
Chapter Nine
Kennedy
I was finishing getting dressed the next morning when I realized I’d left my tube of sunblock in the master bathroom. Anxiety filled me. I had been avoiding Stratton since our big talk the day before.
That kiss.
I recalled Stratton pulling me across the table and branding me with his kiss, my traitorous body craving his. I had wanted him with every fiber of my being. I could lie till I was blue in the face but my kiss couldn’t. My face turned pink in the small half-bath mirror at the memory of my response. Like a wildfire raging over dry brush.
I knew better than to enter our room. He would get the wrong message, and I would be tempted. But I needed sunblock or I would for sure get burnt.
I’d already dropped Ben off at school and Evie was watching a movie in the living room. She would be fine for a few minutes. I tiptoed to our bedroom door, which was slightly open, and glimpsed Stratton’s arm tangled in the sheets. He was still asleep. I could sneak in and out and he wouldn’t even know I’d been in there.
I pushed the door open and passed our bed. Stratton’s arm covered his eyes. He was sleeping shirtless, as was his preference. And mine to, come to think of it, but we won’t go there. The sheet had been pulled down to reveal his bare chest.
My breath hitched in my throat, an ache of desire gnawing at me. Missing him. Wishing I could crawl under the covers and snuggle with him on our soft mattress instead of that pathetic little camping cot in Evie’s room.
Shaking myself mentally, I looked away and walked on into the bathroom, where I found the sunblock under the sink. As I took it out, the sink door thudded shut.
Oops.
I tiptoed back out. Or tried to, anyway.
Stratton lay in bed awake, watching me. He had lowered his arm to his sculpted stomach.
“Hi,” I said, my cheeks warming.
“Hi.” His voice was gravelly. Sensual.
“Sorry,” I stammered, “I was just getting this.” I dangled the sunblock from my fingertips.
He continued to stare at me, as though willing me to come forward. “I don’t mind you coming in here,” he murmured.
I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away. “I’m taking Evie with me this morning.”
He seemed more awake, his eyes trailing over my sundress. “Where are you going?”
“Emma’s going to show me some properties.”
His expression turned cool. “I see.”
I turned as he said, “I can watch Evie.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder then away. “But you’re still in bed.”
“I’m up.” He yawned again. I pictured him stretching, getting out of bed. Shirtless.
“Okay.” I nodded without looking back. “Thanks.”
I practically ran out and tried to resume normal breathing outside our bedroom. He followed me out thankfully with a shirt on and sat with Evie in front of the TV.
“Hi, baby girl,” he said.
“See you later,” I told them both.
“Bye, Mommy.” Evie blew me a kiss.
I blew her a kiss back. Behind Evie, an unsmiling Stratton caught my “kiss” and pressed it on his lips.
I stood outside for a moment, trying to recover from that little flirtation. Here I was on the verge of a trial separation from my husband and I was a hot mess. I needed to exercise some control or I would be scurrying back to him without us fixing a thing.
My phone rang, bringing me back to earth. “Coming, cousin?” Emma asked.
“Sorry I’m late, but yes, I am.”
As I drove to meet her, I recalled my job hunt the day before.
I had thanked Emma for offering me a spot on her real estate team but the three-month training was a deal-breaker. The other jobs were in fast food. In the end, I decided to take the motel job because it sounded more interesting and for the higher pay.
So I could move out and away from Stratton.
Away from his knee-weakening kisses.
After our heated discussion the day before, the imprint of our searing kiss lingered like a ghost between us. We stayed physically far apart in the kitchen while working on dinner together. I felt like a marionette tied to his strings. I was aware of his every movement even as I pretended he didn’t affect me. It was confusing, which only made me more determined to move out. I didn’t want physical attraction muddying up the waters. Like I told Stratton, I needed more than just physical intimacy. And even that was lacking nowadays.
I wanted Stratton to prove to me he was willing to change and save our marriage and family. As for myself, I needed to strengthen my own identity so I could give more back into our marriage.
After a short drive across town, I parked the station wagon behind Emma’s spunky red sedan alongside a junky-looking apartment complex on Main Street. Within sight was a strip of businesses. Across the busy road, a couple of businesses had “Available for Rent” signs.
I clutched my purse tighter and adjusted the strap on my shoulder. Emma emerged from the car, on her phone as usual, and waved at me. A man in a stained tank top came out of a first-floor apartment. The tank top barely covered his paunch and he wore a brown cap.
Emma got off her call. “Hi, girl. How are you today?”
“Fine.” I put on a brave smile.
“What did that husband of yours say when you told him you got a job?” she whispered as we walked across the cracked parking lot.
“He’s confused.”
“I bet. You seem to be doing well, and here’s his wife wanting to work outside the home.”
“I already explained it to you.”
She raised her hands. “I know, I know.”
I clutched at her arm. “Please tell me that’s not the landlord.”
Emma patted my hand. “We don’t have to stay long.”
“Well,” the guy smacked his lips together noisily when we approached. “So this is my new tenant?”
Emma gave him a steely-eyed gaze. “Mr. Richards, I presume?”
“No need to mister me.” He flashed yellowing teeth. “Bruce will do.”
A feeling of panic surged through me. What I thought was a brown cap was actually a white cap stained with sweat. His eyes gleamed with interest that creeped me out.
We talked for a few minutes outside, with him explaining the terms of rental while my eyes wandered and pictured my children playing here, right next to all the traffic breezing past.
“Is there a playground nearby?” I asked when he finished his sh
ort litany of amenities.
“There’s a dirt patch in the back. You have kids? They’ll love to dig there.”
They would, too. But I wouldn’t want my kids around him.
“We had a rope on that tree in the back,” he continued, “but it broke.”
An unbidden image of Stratton outfitting our grown tree in the back with a rope for a swing came to mind, his shirt clinging to his muscled torso.
I blinked the image away and paid attention to Emma, who asked if I wanted to see the apartment.
“Sure.” I didn’t hold high hopes, but we might as well look.
It was worse than I expected.
The reek of cat urine hit me at the doorway. The carpet had a worn out trail clear to a cramped living room area. From where I stood I could already see that the kitchen linoleum floor was grody with stains. Emma and I exchanged glances. She had a question in her eyes and I answered with a little shake of my head.
“I think we’ve have seen plenty,” Emma said. “Thank you so much.”
The guy stared at her. “But won’t you look in the bedroom? It’s a lot better than out here.”
We were already heading out. “It’s all right,” Emma said.
Emma and I converged by her car before driving off to the next place. I could tell she wanted to talk to me about this apartment but the landlord kept watch outside.
“Now, where we’re heading is a bit…special,” she said. “The husband’s a friend of a friend, so I can somewhat vouch that he’s eccentric, but not dangerously certifiable.”
“Oh goodie,” I said. “That’s a relief.”
Emma grinned. “I can tell you more, but I think you’ll just have to see.”
“I’m really curious now.” I followed her in the station wagon and came to the edge of town that abutted wildlands. It was a rolling piece of land with a field of desert defined by a rustic split rail fence. There was a charming house in the middle of that expanse, with a little cabin off to the side.
“I assume the cabin is the one for rent?” I asked Emma as we trekked through dirt to the house.
“Yes. It’s small but I already confirmed that he has it rigged with a swamp cooler.”
I already felt sticky walking around a bit this morning. I couldn’t imagine not having some sort of cooling system in a house especially for later in the season.
A woman came out of the house. She was an older lady, probably in her 70s, with wispy blonde hair cut short around her jawline. Her smile was contagious and her eyes were kind. I infinitely felt safer in her presence than at the previous rental property.
“Good morning,” she greeted us. “My name is Selina Anderson, and you are?”
After Emma introduced us, she took my hand in hers. “Emma tells me that you have two little children. My grand-littles live far away. It will be good to have kidlets underfoot once again.”
I clasped her hand tightly. “Thank you.”
She moved away and looked around. “Now where is that husband of mine? George? Yoo-hoo!”
For answer, there was a huge swooshing noise in the back. Emma and I exchanged worried glances as Selina hurried to the back. We followed.
“George!” she scolded him. A tiny old man with a buttoned-up plaid shirt tucked in slacks was standing with a huge hose that rivaled the ones on Stratton’s station engine. He was pumping gallons of water into a gopher hole. “Stop that right now!”
He gave us a sheepish smile and walked over to a huge wheel. He turned it a few times until the water slowed to a trickle.
He grinned. “Is this our new tenant?”
“Fat chance she’ll be with your shenanigans,” Selina retorted. “Ladies, this is my husband George. George, of course you know Emma. And this is Kennedy. Please forgive George. He’s not a water hog. He just wants to get rid of our gophers.”
George continued to smile. “Been trying to for the last forty years. Do you ladies have a problem with gophers too?”
“Actually, yes,” Emma said. “But I’ve pretty much given up on getting rid of them.”
George scratched his head. “What did your husband try?”
“I have no husband,” Emma said, sounding almost gleeful. “I’m a divorced single mom.”
If my marriage were to succumb to divorce, would I be crowing about it too? As much as I admired Emma and how she turned lemons into lemonade, I didn’t want to end up a single mom. I dreaded the d-word.
“I’m sorry.” Selina patted her arm.
“I’m not.” Emma looked over her shoulder. “May we look at the cabin?”
“Of course,” Selina said, shepherding us across the dry brush toward the cabin.
“Nice name.” George nodded as we fell into step together. “Very presidential.”
“Oh.” Selina waved him off. “He thinks he’s so funny.” She peered at me. “Were you named after President Kennedy?”
“No. My parents just liked the name.”
“I admit,” Selina cocked her head. “It’s rather unusual for a girl.” The couple nodded in agreement.
I smiled. I liked them already. I crossed my fingers that the cabin would be decent. For the price, I didn’t expect great things.
The cabin looked to be in fairly decent shape with sparkling white paint. Now if only the outside would match the inside…
“Oh,” I said, when George opened the door.
The interior was cozy, with a little living room that had a loveseat and chair. To the left, there was a round table by a curtained window. The kitchen had a sink and fridge and a sliver of counter space. Up above was a loft.
“The loft has space the equivalent of four twin beds,” George said. “Selina needled me into making sure the grandkids would all fit in there.”
“That sounds so fun.” I climbed the ladder to the loft and felt a rush of pleasure seeing the sleeping area.
I climbed down and noted the small but adorable space. “My children will think we’re doing a sleepover every night.”
“That was the thought.” George’s eyes twinkled.
“About the rent,” I began. There was a moment of awkward silence, and I continued. “Are you sure you want that little? This is worth much more than you’re asking.”
Emma gaped at me, like I was shooting myself on the foot.
“I just want to be fair,” I added.
Selina shook her head. “No, it’s a fair price in my mind. It’s only a fun playhouse. I’m sure glad someone in your position could use it.”
Someone in your position. A potential divorcee. My chest compressed with sadness.
Obviously Emma shared some of my situation, and I didn’t mind too much. I hoped the Andersons would be good allies.
“Thank you so much.” I looked the couple in the eye, and they both seemed pleased with themselves.
Selina took George aside and pointed out something for him to fix, giving me a chance to have a little pow-wow with Emma.
“What do you think?” I whispered to Emma.
“Definitely should take it.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
“I was afraid they were going to bump up the rent.”
“I would have been willing to pay a bit more.”
“Honey,” she gripped my arm. “I’d gratefully accept all the breaks you can get. Take it from this battle-wizened broad.”
To the couple, I said, “I would love to be your tenant, if you’ll have me.”
Selina gave me a hug. Her kindness gave me hope.
At the curb, I stopped to chat with Emma. “Thanks, cousin, I owe you.”
“No,” Emma said, “I owe you. I should have stepped in long ago and stopped you from falling in love with that firefighter.”
I sucked in my breath. “No, no. Of course not.” I added, truthfully, “Regardless of the outcome, I’ll never regret falling in love with him. I still want to make it work. It has to!”
“Of course,” she soothed. “I can’t help but feel responsi
ble for your sadness right now.”
“Would you stop that?” I chastised her. “You did try to talk sense into both of us.”
“But love was so powerful.” She sighed. “I have been thinking though, do you not see yourself patching up with him?”
“I would love to be with him forever,” I murmured. “I don’t want the kids to grow up in a broken home.”
“Mmm.” She gave me a thoughtful glance. “Well then, moving out seems so…extreme .”
“In a way it is,” I agreed quietly. “This way we can work things out without the stress of day to day life. I’m giving myself five months.”
“That sounds so random. Why five?”
“He’s been prepping to test for battalion chief. He gets done then. It’s a real hard time for all of us.”
“You mean you bailed when the going got tough?”
I gasped and stared at Emma, who cracked a smile. “Kidding,“ she said. “No, I get you. Hard to see things for what they are when you’re staring at it up close.”
Her quip made me feel uncertain. “I just got a new job, and I don’t want to ditch them too soon. And also, I need to prove I can make it on my own.”
“To Stratton?”
“To myself.”
Emma studied me before putting on her shades. “Mmm. Well, it’s your decision of course, Kennedy, but I wonder if you’re making it easier to give up what you guys have. You know, out of sight, out of mind.”
I looked away, then back. “We each have to work on things.”
“I can see what a workaholic firefighter needs to work on. But you, Kennedy? You’re a saint.”
“That’s sweet of you to say that, but I’m absolutely not a saint.”
Her mouth gaped open. “No way.”
I slapped at her playfully.
She grinned. “Seriously, you’re the sweetest thing.”
“Maybe I need to grow a backbone. To assert myself. Ask for what I need. So I can give him what he needs.”
Emma nodded and opened her arms out for a hug. “Gotcha. You do what you gotta do, lady. I’m here to support you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
