by Jewel Allen
I opened my eyes. Shanna was standing there, holding the steaming cup of chocolate. Her features were blurred by the steam, bringing back, with disturbing clarity, the scene with those children who’d died from smoke inhalation.
I blinked and reached for the drink. Our fingers touched as she made the transfer.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked, still standing.
For a moment, I thought she was Kennedy. She used to ask me that question when I came home, and I always declined when it was something horrible like this.
I was tough. I could cope with the desolation from the death of these poor innocents. But the temptation of a listening ear, a compassionate fellow human, was great. The world felt heavy on my shoulders. It would feel good to unburden, for a change.
But…Kennedy had accused me of not letting her into my life. Letting Shanna in before I let Kennedy felt like a disservice to my wife and to our marriage.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice firm, “but I’ll be fine.”
Shanna’s eyes glimmered with understanding. “I’m here for you whenever.”
I set my drink on a side table to shuck off my coat. It felt good to get out of my hot gear.
Shanna began to move away when the sound of the door keypad being pushed startled both of us. Stumbling in her step, Shanna fell awkwardly into my lap.
“Oops,” Shanna said. In her eyes came a flicker of mischief.
She had done this on purpose.
I tried to push her off, but I wasn’t fast enough.
I turned to see Kennedy standing there with a piece of cake, her face pale as the moon.
Chapter Eighteen
Kennedy
I let go of the knob and the door swung back shut, muffling Stratton’s shout, calling me by name.
“Well, thank you anyway.” I shoved the piece of cake toward Coleman, the station reserve who’d led me here, his eyes wide and full of worry. “You can have this.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I turned and fled, fighting back tears.
When I got the call from Coleman about what happened tonight, my heart broke for Stratton and his crew. I was at my parents enjoying some cake for dessert and had this crazy thought to go and deliver a slice to Stratton at the hospital. I confirmed he was still there and left the children with my parents. They were already planning to see their dad on Sunday.
This time was just for Stratton and me.
I didn’t know how he would react, or if he would even open up to me, but I wanted him to know that I still cared about him.
In past tense.
The scene that greeted me in that hospital room had landed like a slap to my face. Coleman was witness to it all.
I ran down the hallway, everyone turning to watch my progress.
In high school, my friends always commented that I was graceful as a gazelle. I was never the fastest at track meets but I did have grace. But now, as I ran sobbing through the hospital, I didn’t care for form. I was simply fleeing from the horror I had seen.
Shanna in Stratton’s lap in that tiny room.
How long had they been doing this?
We had a pact not to date, and already, he had broken it.
“Kennedy!” Stratton shouted as I reached the final doors that would lead me out to freedom. For a moment, I thought about stopping. But what was the use?
I had seen his betrayal clearly with my own two eyes. It wasn’t even based on hearsay.
Shanna could have him, and good luck keeping him from finding someone new when he got bored with her.
I busted through those doors, startling a few families sitting in the waiting area. I had an advantage over Stratton in his bunker pants and boots. I ran as fast as I could, slipping into the revolving doors and out into the dark night.
Chapter Nineteen
Stratton
“Kennedy!” I shouted into the parking lot. But our station wagon was already tearing out of the lot, into the street. I watched until the red taillights disappeared down the road.
I stood there gasping for breath. I had discarded my coat back in the break room when I decided to take off after Kennedy. I would have to get it back. For now though, I didn’t want to face Shanna. I didn’t think I could be civil enough with her. Anger burned through my body at her trick.
I went back into the hospital and found Coleman waiting for me at the nurse’s station. An apology cut across his face.
“In the break room,” I said. “I left my coat. Do you mind getting it?”
“I have it right here.” Shanna was walking toward us, holding the coat with one hand.
My jaw tightened as I looked at her like a man would look at a viper.
“Sorry she saw us—”
“Shut up.”
Shock flashed across her face. “Pardon me.”
I rubbed my temple. “I’m so angry right now I can’t think straight. You just ruined whatever little trust my wife had for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Her eyes widened. “You saw me trip and fall.”
“You did that on purpose.”
Shanna crossed her arms over her chest. “You think too highly of yourself if you suspect me of orchestrating that whole thing.”
I didn’t know what to think. Maybe she was right. But it sure looked like she had staged it. I wanted to keep talking to her. To tell her that there could be nothing between us, but this wasn’t the time nor the place.
I turned away from her. “Let’s go, Coleman.”
Coleman followed me out. Once we were in the engine, he commented, “Cap, I’m sorry. I—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I interrupted. “You were trying to help. I wish that . . . ” I didn’t even know where to begin.
“Rough day,” he said into the gap.
“Yes,” I said, feeling exhausted to the bone. “It was.”
I called Kennedy once my reports were filed for the night. She picked up at the third ring.
“Hello, Kennedy,” I said.
Silence.
I leaned my head against the wall and pressed the phone to my ear. “I’m sorry.”
Again, silence. But then she said, “Let me go out where the kids can’t hear me.” After a moment she came back. “Okay, I’m good.”
I began, “What you saw—it wasn’t what you think it was.”
“Stratton, I don’t think we should talk right now. I drove home and my mind kept spinning scenarios. I’m so . . . upset, I’m ready to see the lawyer tomorrow.”
“No,” I said in a rush of breath.
“How long have you and her been . . . ” and then she broke into sobs, tearing at my heart. My sweet, darling Kennedy.
“Kennedy,” I tried to soothe her. “There’s nothing between us, I swear. She tripped and fell in my lap.”
Even as I explained, it sounded really lame in my ears.
There was a strangled sound. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
I swallowed and took a deep breath. I was embroiled in so many emotions from the past night. I needed her, but she needed me even more.
To the extent that she was willing to give me another chance, otherwise we wouldn’t still be talking.
“No, I guess I don’t,” I conceded. “Can we talk about it some more after our date Saturday?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I can’t believe you expect me to still go out with you . . . after this.”
“Kennedy, please. If I could only explain to you in person—”
“No. Leave me alone for now, Stratton, okay?” She paused. “You can still see the kids if you want. I’ll have them dressed and ready Saturday night.”
And then she hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand. There were so many words inside me, now dying before they could see the light of day. Words that may never make their way to Kennedy. For a minute, I thought about catching some sleep before our next call. But the need to reach Kennedy pressed on me with urgency.
I stumbled
out into the hallway of the dorms and went to my darkened office. Flipping on the light switch, I looked around for my stash of copy paper. And then a pen.
I took both back to my room.
Plumping up my pillows, I sat there for a long time, letting my feelings swirl around me. I would keep this short. It had been so long since I wrote anything more than a report, I was sure I didn’t have a lot to say.
When I finished the letter I looked up at the wall clock with surprise. Two hours had passed. I re-read the letter and folded it. I didn’t know when I would give it to her, but it was there for when she was ready.
Chapter Twenty
Kennedy
Two minutes to seven that Saturday night, I glanced at the clock, wondering if Stratton would truly show up. He’d texted that he would love to take the kids to dinner.
Maybe he’d chickened out. Which would be good. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face him. Not after catching him with that floozy. Part of me wanted to believe him that it had been an accident, but it was too preposterous. Nurses didn’t just “fall” into firefighters’ laps.
The children were playing in our rented cabin with a LEGO set that my parents had given them the other day. Mom had been especially sweet to them lately, trying to make up for our heartache with her own brand of caring.
I stood there in the living room watching them for a few minutes. They were my respite from my pain. I would do anything for them, including making sure they grew up happy and well-adjusted, whatever happened to me and Stratton.
There was a knock at the door.
I began to move to open it, but Ben jumped up and said, “I’ll get it!”
Ben pulled open the door to Stratton and the children ran into his arms. Not agreeing to the date tonight was a good thing. My heart was experiencing all sorts of conflicting emotions. Anger. Pain. Yearning.
He had bent down to let the children into his embrace and he looked up now with a hesitant smile.
“Have fun, kids,” I called vaguely out their direction.
Stratton straightened up and took something out of his pocket. “Here. Read it when you have a chance.”
Ben jumped for it. “I can give it to Mommy.”
“Okay,” Stratton said. “Why don’t you do that?”
I took it from Ben and thanked him. He tugged at my hand and looked up at me with his beautiful eyes. “Can Dad see the loft?”
I wished they would leave. I didn’t want Stratton here. The space felt invaded and cramped all of a sudden.
But I couldn’t say no to Ben’s soft, beseeching eyes. “Sure.”
Stratton took his shoes off at the door. I stood to the side so he could pass and climb the ladder with Evie, followed by an eager Ben.
This was the first time he had been inside our little house since he helped us move and I wondered if he was sizing it up. Stratton wasn’t judgy that way, but surely, he couldn’t help but compare what the children were used to, and the little I could give them.
Swallowing my pride, I waited for them to be done.
“Isn’t this cool, Daddy?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, it sure is.” Stratton’s low voice pierced my heart.
All of a sudden, I was overcome with missing him, his touch, his everything.
I folded my arms over my chest, to symbolically ward off any softening. I needed to protect my heart. In my hand, I still held the envelope. I set it down on the kitchen table. I would read it later. But for now, it taunted my curiosity as it lay, crumpled from my grip, on the scarred surface.
“Read us a book, Daddy,” little Evie said.
Oh, dear. I might as well sit down and wait it out. There were books up in the loft—all their favorites. The children and I had made it a bedtime routine to read a few before lights out. I pulled out a chair and sat, alone, in my new kitchen.
Stratton read one that was funny. The kids giggled as he made all the appropriate dramatic pauses. His voice was deep, like a commentator’s, perfect for bedtime reading.
Perfect for quiet conversations in bed when the children were asleep.
I got up and poured a glass of water, to keep myself busy and distracted from the sweet scene unfolding above me.
At the sink, I looked at my reflection on the four-pane window. I hadn’t even really made myself up or anything. Next time, I would. So he didn’t think I was languishing at home waiting for him.
Because, with Shanna, he certainly wasn’t.
My fingers gripped my drink tightly and I set the glass on the counter stronger than I intended. It clinked on the surface, but didn’t break.
“Mommy,” Ben said, “Daddy’s going to read your favorite.”
“Good.” I stared at my glass.
“Come and read it with us,” he persisted.
My first reaction was absolutely not. But again, how do you say no to a little boy that was an innocent party in all of this?
“Okay. Be up there in a minute.”
When I could no longer procrastinate, I climbed the ladder to join them. Stratton was lying on his side, blocking the entrance. As I reached the top, Stratton turned slowly. “Sorry. I’m in the way, huh?”
He flattened himself on his back, but it still meant I had to straddle him to get over to where the kids were, on the other side.
Stratton’s hand shot up and grabbed my arm. “Steady,” he said, and then he let me go as I hurried to sit with the kids. Even with that two-second touch, I felt myself coming undone. I took a deep breath as my heart rate spiked.
Stratton stared at me for a long moment before turning back to the book he held in his hand. I lay down so that my back was flat and stared at the ceiling. I could be with them without looking like an appreciative party. Or not having to watch Stratton in full color.
“Ready?” Stratton asked softly.
I looked over to him and our glances collided. My pulse raced under his intense gaze, where he’d not attempted to hide the desire gleaming in his eyes.
“Yes!” Ben shouted.
Stratton cleared his throat and proceeded to read “Do not eat your classmates.” I refused to look over, but his words washed over me, making me smile at the funny parts. The children giggled and pointed at the pictures while I tamped down the feeling of missing being together as a family. Having my husband be father to my children in my home. If it weren’t or that woman, this could have been healing for our family.
In the midst of the sweetness of it all, a fierce anger at the memory of Stratton in that hospital room gripped my chest and made it hard for me to breathe.
When he was done, the children clapped and begged for another story.
Stratton glanced at me. “Only if it’s okay with your mother. I can read here all night.”
“Story time is over,” I said, staring at the ceiling, my words clipped. More gently for the kids’ sake, I added, “I think you should get going on your fun adventure with Daddy.” I steeled myself before gazing at Stratton, not hiding my renewed anger. He flinched with surprise.
Lowering his eyes, he said, “Your mom’s right. Shall we?”
He climbed down, followed by the kids. I followed after them and turned, expecting to see them at the door, but Stratton was still standing by the ladder. His face was mere inches from mine.
“Thanks for letting me read to the kids,” he said.
I moved away, wrapping my arms around my body. “You’re welcome.”
They piled out into the summer evening. They all waved from Stratton’s truck and I waved back, mostly at the kids. I shut the door and leaned against it for a long moment.
So this is how divorced families do it. The kids, acting like watered-down glue. A messy, messy proposition of frayed nerves and tangled emotions. It could be civil, I supposed, so long as bad memories didn’t intrude.
My gaze settled on Stratton’s letter. I approached it and looked it over. There were no markings outside. As I opened it up, I was struck with how much handwriting was on it.
When we were dating, Stratton would give me love notes occasionally, but nothing as long as this.
I sat at the kitchen table and read it.
Dearest Kennedy,
I am not a man of nice-sounding letters. I am sure I will misspel words here. But I wanted to share with you some things I’ve been thinking about the past few days.
First of all, even though the situation went south real quick, thanks much for bringing me a piece of cake that night. It had been a rough, rough day, and your kindness meant so much to me.
You asked me to be more open with you, and so here’s my attempt at it.
That night, Coleman and I had to rescue two children from a burning house. By the time we got there, it was too late. Both, as you may have heard, died of smoke asphyxiation. They were a little older than our kids, but not by much. The grief of the parents, when they came to the hospital, was horrific. I wished I could have done more for them. Then I recognized that I did. I tried to save their children, but sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you want it to.
It’s always tough answering a call, but to be honest, the ones involving children are the hardest for me. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing by keeping the pain to myself, but I never wanted to burden you with something so awful. Maybe it was wrong of me, I just never wanted to give you the kind of brain stains I’ve had to deal with.
Second, please know and believe me that there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING between me and Shanna, even though it was possibly the most compromising scene you could have come to. I have made the choice to avoid her at all costs. Regardless of its innocence, I know now that keeping a friendship with her would not lead to a good ending. It will not help our marriage. Nor will it help our family.
I wish it didn’t take you leaving to give me a wake-up call, but it did. I wander the house and everything reminds me of you. I miss you so much and hope you will give me—us—another chance.
Why?
Because I love you with every fiber of my being. I have always loved you since the day we met and I have never stopped loving you. Even through the times when I have been guilty of putting my work ahead of our family, and not letting you into my heart as I should have.
