"Not too weird," Taylor said. "It's mental telepathy between a mother and daughter." It sounded good to her anyway.
"Yeah, I guess," Audra said. "So is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Taylor assured her. "Today's my day off. I was just feeling a bit lonely and thought I'd call."
Audra seemed less certain. "Where's Dad?"
Taylor sighed. "He's at the university, doing what he does best." She hoped that didn't come out the wrong way, though she wasn't sure there was a right way to say it.
"Of course," Audra said, as if it were the most obvious thing. "I always get the time screwed up back in the States." Audra said something in a muffled voice, then told her: "Jessie's here. He says hi."
"Tell him hi back," Taylor said. Jessie was, as Audra put it, "her cutie pie Brit beau." Translation: her English boyfriend. Taylor was okay with it, knowing that Audra was responsible, if not impetuous. She doubted her daughter would be ready to settle down with one guy till she had graduated, started a career, and made loads of money, before starting to seriously think about motherhood.
"Mom, you really need to get out more," Audra said. "If Dad's too busy doing his thing, you have every right to do yours."
"I'll keep that in mind," Taylor said, and thought about Vaughn Mitchell. She had never told Audra about him and had only mentioned him vaguely to her husband Paul. She supposed Audra had never considered that she might have had a life before meeting her father. Taylor had been content with that. Now she wondered if Audra should know more about her past and what might have been.
"We were just about to go out for a bite to eat," Audra hinted, then giggled as though Jessie were tickling her funny bone—or something else.
"You go ahead then, honey," Taylor said. "We'll talk again soon."
"Okay. Love you, Mom."
"You, too."
The line went dead and Taylor knew what she'd known all along. Her little girl was now a young woman, getting on with her life. It reminded her of her own free spirited college days when everything was new and exciting...and she had to make her own mistakes and correct them.
But who am I today? Taylor wondered. Am I really who I want to be or where I need to be at this stage of my life?
She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door. Like it or not, staring back at her in a gray sweater, jeans, and bare feet was a forty-six-year-old woman. Over the years, she had pretty much managed to maintain a comfortable weight. Even when she was pregnant with Audra, she'd hardly gained any weight. Though slender, Taylor felt that she could still benefit from thinner hips and a tighter butt.
Taylor studied her face now, trying to remember what it used to look like so long ago, and realized she could not. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes, around her generous mouth, and creasing her brow. She imagined her face had once been fuller and tighter than the narrower, not as taut image now presenting itself.
Her once long blonde hair had been replaced with a shorter, more manageable style. And she'd noticed that more and more gray strands had begun to appear in recent years, forcing her to add blonde highlights to obscure them, resigning herself to this concession of aging.
The one constant Taylor could always count on was her eyes. They were a rich green that reminded her of the well-manicured shrubbery her father always seemed to be working on outside the house when she was a child. Whereas she had once felt cursed for having green eyes when most other girls she knew had blue or brown eyes, Taylor now saw it as a blessing because they made her who she was.
All in all, she considered herself still attractive for a woman now considered middle-aged.
Have I really gone through my twenties, thirties, and more than half of my forties, with fifty right around the corner? Taylor thought, almost in disbelief. She wondered if Paul had noticed the changes over the years. Or had he been too preoccupied with his own world to pay much attention to her appearance?
What would Vaughn Mitchell think of me now? Taylor thought. Do I even care?
She could imagine that he probably hadn't changed much over the years. Men rarely did, other than around the midsection for those who willingly let themselves go. Vaughn had once prided himself in staying in tiptop shape, which was part of his charm.
The thought depressed Taylor, even if she never saw the man again. She wondered what other information Vaughn had supplied to the Forever Sweethearts staff about them—or, more specifically, about her. The thought of what he may have divulged made her uneasy. It was like having ancient skeletons unearthed that had no place in today's world.
Was it possible that Vaughn had secretly kept track of her whereabouts over the years while keeping a safe distance?
Now you're getting paranoid, she thought. It's been twenty-five long years. Regardless of his desire to see me again, the man obviously had his own life to live.
And she had hers.
It was too late in the game to think otherwise.
Still, a tiny and maybe selfish part of Taylor wanted Vaughn Mitchell to tell her publicly that he was sorry for dumping her and that it had been the worst mistake of his life. Only then could she get some satisfaction in saying: "I told you so."
Did he actually hope that if they reunited on a reality TV show they could somehow rekindle a burning flame that had never been completely extinguished?
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Taylor admonished herself out loud, snapping back to reality. What was she thinking? There was no point getting too carried away with this. She couldn't go back in time. Nobody could.
Taylor dismissed the notion altogether, as if she were treading down a dangerous path. Yet it was as if something tugged deep within her from yesteryear, something she had no control over but was, in fact, controlling her. Taylor suddenly knew that she had to see Vaughn Mitchell again, if only for one last time. Even if it meant making a complete fool of herself on a reality TV show.
As far as Taylor was concerned, it was the only way she could exorcise a ghost of her past who had suddenly and inexorably reappeared in her life.
* * *
Taylor and Paul sat at the contemporary cherry dining table, eating a combination platter of egg foo young and sweet and sour pork and washing it down with a bottle of wine. Paul loved Chinese food and brought it home at least once a week. Taylor considered it more or less a necessary evil because he loved it. As such, it gave her a perfectly legitimate excuse to keep from cooking real food, which was admittedly not one of her strong points. Now that Audra was away at college, Taylor and Paul had more or less gotten into the habit of eating takeout food, microwave dishes, and dining at restaurants.
Taylor had met Paul Holland at Michigan State University more than twenty years ago. The college was located in East Lansing, Michigan—a quaint town just east of Lansing, the state's capital, and some eighty-five miles from Detroit. She was teaching women's studies and he was a professor of criminal justice, having received his Ph.D. at Oxford. It had not exactly been a match made in heaven. She was all of twenty-six and still trying to find her way in the world. Paul was eight years older, devilishly handsome in an odd way, and much more experienced in the ways of the world. He had lived with a woman for twelve years whom he claimed to detest for much of that time, but stayed with nevertheless.
On the other hand, Taylor had not been in a serious relationship or even had any decent prospects for more than a year. They were a case in point that opposites attract, for she and Paul didn't really seem to be compatible in any way aside from some good debates and incredible sex.
Yet, less than a year later, they were married and expecting a child. And suddenly Taylor was no longer Taylor Braxton but Mrs. Paul Holland.
Taylor believed she had fallen in love with Paul Holland because he was the first man she'd ever met who seemed to want her more for her mind than her beauty and body. It had never occurred to Taylor that time and routine would cause his interest to wane slowly but surely, even as her superficial
qualities began to lessen with age. She wondered if this just came with the territory in longtime marriages: they grew stale after a while and neither partner could do much about it other than grumble or get a divorce. She hoped it would never come to the latter, even while the former seemed to do little good in the scheme of things.
She put a chunk of glazed pork in her mouth, and watched the look of amusement on her husband's face across the table.
"I thought it was so damned funny," remarked Paul as a preface to a joke a colleague had told him. "Stan has always looked at the bottom line, apparently even as a struggling college student." He paused while pushing his gold tinted glasses up to the top of his long nose. Through the bifocals, the gray-blue color of Paul's eyes was as prominent as a foggy lake. "After being asked out to lunch one day while in grad school, with barely two cents to his name, he was forced to decline. But because he didn't want his friend to take it the wrong way, Stan claimed he was going to be up to his neck in books and had no time to eat." Paul stopped to sip his wine before continuing. "Then the friend said to him, obviously disappointed, 'That's too bad, Stan. The meal was going to be my treat.' Upon hearing that, Stan did a complete about face, rubbed his stomach rather hungrily, and declared: 'Oh in that case, I accept!'"
Paul broke into a boisterous laugh that showed all of his whitened teeth, including the porcelain crown he'd gotten just last week. He was an even six feet tall and, at fifty-four, still in pretty good shape. Recently he had shown signs of thickening around the midsection and in his neck. His once thick, curly raven hair had turned grayish-white, was receding, and had thinned considerably.
Taylor noted that Paul was still wearing the crumpled russet-colored suit and wrinkle-resistant white shirt he'd worn to work, minus the silk tie—as though this was a department luncheon instead of dinner with his wife.
She found herself laughing with him, as she usually did. They both knew each other so well that they often operated on habits and instincts rather than impulse. After twenty years of marriage, she wondered if there were no more surprises, magic, or sparks left.
Would Audra end up following in their footsteps—perhaps with Jessie—someday?
The idea did not sit too well with Taylor. She tasted her wine, fully aware that such thoughts had been conjured up by the phone call this morning. She'd had the opportunity to flatly reject any chance to meet with Vaughn Mitchell again. Instead, she had deliberately left the door open, as if it was beckoning her to enter with both feet.
She had decided to accept the challenge and appear on the Forever Sweethearts show. This scared and excited Taylor more than she wanted it to. She had never cheated on Paul or even thought about it, and saw no reason to start now. Though their sex life had gradually declined over the years, in the past few months it had been almost nonexistent by mutual agreement for the same reasons that most wives and husbands stopped making love. They were too tired. Too sleepy. It was too routine. Too much work to do. Too little time. Too this. Too that. And other too's that seemed to fit into their lives perfectly like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Taylor convinced herself that it was perfectly normal not to desire your husband the way you once had after so many years together. Especially when it was obvious that his desire for her had taken a nosedive in favor of work, play, and anything else he could think of. But that hardly meant either of them wanted or needed to look elsewhere. Did it? Certainly not to old lovers from another lifetime.
She quickly erased those thoughts. As far as she was concerned, reuniting in an artificial and platonic setting with an old friend for two days on a reality TV show—and, yes, Taylor reminded herself, they had been friends first—was hardly the same thing as embarking on a torrid affair with the man who had broken off their engagement twenty-five years ago without just cause.
Not in her book.
Taylor hadn't realized that Paul had stopped eating and talking and was staring at her, until he touched her hand. Startled, she jumped involuntarily.
"Hello up there," he said. Paul made a fist and knocked on the side of his head mockingly. "If I'd wanted to speak to myself, I could have done that during the drive home," he said irritably.
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling her cheeks flush. It was almost as if he could read her mind. She knew he couldn't, but that didn't stop her from being annoyed that he had to be cruel about it. She batted her eyes at him. "What were you saying?"
He sipped his wine and adjusted his glasses. "I was saying that they want me to speak at a four-day conference on guns and homicide starting next Friday in Atlanta. Apparently I'd be a substitute for some asshole who backed out at the last minute." He sighed half-heartedly. "I said I'd let them know by this weekend—"
Aside from teaching criminology courses, Paul frequently traveled around the country to speak at various criminal justice seminars and conferences. He'd gained a reputation as an expert on everything from male criminality to juvenile delinquency to terrorism. In recent years this had been a sore spot with Taylor, since it often meant taking away what little precious quality time they had together. But she tried not to complain too much. It was what he did and apparently loved to do. Deep down inside, she was proud that he was in such demand as a criminologist. Though the selfish side of her wanted him all to herself, another side of Taylor actually welcomed the space Paul's travel afforded her.
"You should go," she told him.
His eyes blinked, as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said. "I know this is important to you."
He looked away awkwardly. "I know we had talked about going away for a few days next week—"
"So we'll just go some other time," Taylor said with a catch to her voice, knowing it had been her suggestion and he had reluctantly agreed, though his heart clearly wasn't in it.
Paul looked at her and said hesitantly: "You know, you could always come with me. We could make it a working vacation...maybe even give Audra a call and tell her she doesn't know what she's missing in Atlanta with her folks."
Taylor thought about it briefly before rejecting the idea. She had accompanied Paul on a number of speaking engagements, though less often in recent years as her work took up much of her time. And when she had gone along, he usually treated her like she wasn't there or as something akin to a trophy wife. It rarely ended up being much of a vacation for her.
"I can't, Paul," she told him, trying to sound disappointed. "I have my book to work on. Then there's my classes..."
And it also happened to be when the taping of Forever Sweethearts was scheduled, Taylor thought guiltily.
They finished off their meal in stone cold silence.
CHAPTER TWO
After changing into a pale blue cotton nightshirt, Taylor climbed into bed. Paul was already asleep and snoring, a sound that resembled a soft nasal whistling. She touched his broad shoulder, hoping for the slightest reaction, as if he could sense her needing him. There was none. She had never felt more lonely than at this moment, and was not sure why.
Am I looking for trouble where there is none? Taylor asked herself. Is today any different than yesterday? Or, for that matter, the last five years?
I can't expect any more from Paul than he's capable of giving, she thought. Revisiting the past and another man would not change that.
Yet somehow it did change things in Taylor's mind, at least in a roundabout way. She wanted more out of her marriage and her life. If thinking about Vaughn Mitchell could somehow bring that about, then so be it.
She turned away from her husband, lest he wake up and realize that she was crying. He hated to see her cry for any reason. To Paul, crying was a sign of weakness and, as he put it, merely an excuse to avoid dealing with life's anxieties and suppressed feelings.
Taylor lay there in a fetal position, unable to sleep for about fifteen minutes, when Paul rolled around and put his arm around her. When his hand routinely made its way to her breast, she felt a slight sensation stir within her
and wondered if he would do more. After a moment or two, she put her hand around his and moved it across her nipple, causing it to harden.
Taylor gasped. She tried to guide his hand down her body to between her legs. As if on some unconscious level of rejection, Paul jerked his hand away and brought it back to safe territory beneath his own body. Taylor suppressed the need to cry again, instead focusing on Audra and how lucky they were to have brought her into the world. Then her thoughts turned to Vaughn Mitchell and whether or not he had any children.
Nearly an hour passed before Taylor finally fell asleep.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Taylor slipped quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Paul. She washed her face in the adjoining bathroom and applied some moisturizer before putting on her jogging suit and running shoes. She tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs of the two-story, four-bedroom house made of lightweight composite concrete.
They had their house in East Lansing built ten years ago, with an eye on its low maintenance, use of solar energy, environmentally friendly construction, and close proximity to the Michigan State campus. Each room had hardwood floors, vaulted arched ceilings, and three-way sunlight, allowing for no dark corners. Permanently vented windows enabled a continuous circulation of air. A blend of French provincial and contemporary furnishings occupied the rooms.
Taylor went into the kitchen with its modern, sleek built-in appliances and stone countertops and drank a full glass of water while thinking about last night. Whatever she and Paul had, it was not a fairytale where fantasies all came true. Theirs was a modern day marriage, with plenty of bumps and occasional bruises along the way. It was still better than being all alone out there, as was the case with some people Taylor knew who were just pretending to be happy that they were alone. She had no plans to join that crowd.
Minutes later, Taylor was out the door and running down the street. Daylight had barely broken and the quiet maple tree-lined streets of East Lansing were mostly empty. She had taken up running in college because it seemed like the "in thing" for health-conscious coeds. In the ensuing years, she had pretty much stuck to it to one degree or another, except during the late stages of her pregnancy. She now ran three times a week, varying between three and five miles, depending on her mood.
Billy The Kid’s Wife (A Time Travel Romance Short) Page 5
