Helene took a quick breath, unsure what she was going to say until it came out. “No. Thanks. Actually…I…I used to know someone who lived here.”
The woman narrowed her eyes.
“Twenty years ago, I mean,” Helene clarified, so as not to get the woman’s husband into any sort of trouble. She waved the years ago. “An old boyfriend,” she was babbling, “ancient history. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“Wait a minute. Are you…Helen?” The woman stepped forward, and that screen door clattered shut with the exact same clang that punctuated so many of Helene’s memories.
Helene froze, hearing the woman clatter across the wood porch toward her.
“I knew you looked familiar,” the woman said. “Don’t go—you’re in the right place.”
Helene turned back to her. “I’m not sure I am,” she said with a smile, more to herself than to the woman.
“David’s going to be back any minute,” the woman said, hurrying toward her, bouncing the baby on her hip as she ran. “He forgot his lunch today. Go figure. He takes it with him every single day; but today?—he forgot. And he never forgets. Oh, my goodness, he’s going to be so surprised. You are Helen, aren’t you?”
Helene nodded, momentarily unable to find her voice.
“Oh, my goodness, wait until David sees you. I’m Laura, by the way. David’s wife. And this is Yolande.” She touched the baby’s nose.
“Oh. Well. It’s—”
“I’ve heard so much about you! You left quite an impression on my husband.” She said it without any hint of jealousy or discomfort. “Of course, we’ve seen you on TV now and again. Who hasn’t? You’re very pretty, you know. But then I’m sure you know that. You probably hear it all the time. Do you think you’ll be First Lady of the United States someday?” She pronounced it You-knighted States.
“N-no, I—I’m not sure.” Helene tried to smile. “You know, I’m really pressed for time this morning, so if you could just tell David I stopped by to say hello—”
“There he is now,” Laura said. “Look at that, he made it just on time. He’s like that, you know. Always lucky. Everything happens just in the nick of time for him.”
Helene watched the scuffed-up Toyota Highlander pull into the old drive. “I guess so.”
“That’s how David is, always…”
Helene stopped hearing. Every sense she had was focused completely on the man who was getting out of the old car. He was, of course, thirty-nine now. A grown man with a sweet, chatty wife, and at least one little redheaded baby. A man with a job, and a home, and a family, and a distant memory of a high school girlfriend who’d shot out of town like a bullet and never looked back.
But as he walked toward her, frowning with concentration, she saw and recognized not the man, but the faded pastel ghost of the boy who had given her her first kiss. The blue eyes that scrutinized her now were as familiar as her own, even all these years later.
It seemed to take forever for him to get to her. Time enough for tears to burn behind her eyes and spill down her cheeks, dissolving her into silent sobs for all she’d lost.
She struggled to pull herself together and stood tall, facing him, though still crying. Her voice wouldn’t come to her. She could only look at him, and marvel at how clearly she saw the boy in the man before her.
“Hell, it took you long enough to get back here.” He pulled her into a big bear hug that absorbed twenty years of tears in one long heartfelt embrace.
When Helene was finally able to collect herself enough to speak, she drew back and said, with a smile, “Why didn’t you pay the ransom?”
He got it immediately. Just like she knew he would. Even when they were kids, they had the same dark sense of humor.
“I knew they’d give you back eventually,” he said. “You were too ornery to keep around forever.”
She sniffled and nodded.
He put an arm out, and Laura fit herself into the crook of it. “You met Laura? And my daughter, Yolande?”
“Yes.” The syllable left Helen’s lips without her control. “They’re both beautiful.”
Helene and David locked eyes.
“Come on in,” he said. “To hell with work, we’ve got some catching up to do.”
When she pulled her car out of the driveway three hours later, Helene felt like a new person. A void she hadn’t even fully realized was aching within her was finally, finally filled. David was okay. And he remained there in the same old house, guardian of the past.
“You’ve done real well for yourself,” he’d said to her, over coffee made with Folger’s instant crystals. “Looks like you were right to get out when you did.”
But when he talked about his own life with his wife and kids, she could tell he was really and truly happy.
To Helene, this was the real fairy tale.
She drove home feeling like she had a whole new lease on life. Finally she could let go of the past. It wasn’t exactly resolved, it would never be resolved, but it was, at least, more settled.
When she’d driven north that morning, she’d been unsure what she was going to do about her pregnancy. But driving back, she knew she was going to welcome it, and the baby, no matter what changes it brought.
As she drove, she marveled over the newfound peace she felt at her decision, wondering if it was in part the result of that visit or if there was something to the pregnancy hormones everyone talked about.
There was certainly something to the fact that pregnancy made a person absentminded, because it wasn’t until she was crossing back into Montgomery County, Maryland, that she realized Gerald’s blue car was behind her again. Or still. He had to have been following her the entire time, and she just hadn’t noticed, because there was no way he could have just happened upon her here in the north end of the county.
Furious, she pulled off onto an exit from 270 and headed toward Lakeforest Mall, making sure to go slow enough that he could follow her. This time she didn’t want to lose him; she wanted to catch him.
She drew to a halt in a parking space by the food court entrance, and Gerald pulled up next to her, making no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that he was there.
“What the hell are you doing?” Helene demanded, her heart rate instantly escalating.
He put his hands up in front of him. “Don’t get mad.”
“I thought you got the message.”
“I did! I’m not following you.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“Okay, okay, I did follow you,” he said. “I admit that, but it’s because I have something for you.”
It suddenly occurred to Helene that she should be using a lot more caution in a situation like this, especially since she had the baby to be concerned about now. She glanced around, and was glad to see a couple of twenty-something guys putting antifreeze into a car in the next row.
“What do you mean you have something for me?” Helene asked, backing up and feeling for the car door handle behind her, just in case. “Why would you have something for me?”
He gave a half shrug. “I, uh, I felt bad about following you. See, I sort of felt like I got to know you since I was watching you every day and, you know, I think you deserve better than that scum you’re married to.”
She didn’t know what to say. He was trying to compliment her, she supposed, but it was coming across as sort of creepy, too. “I appreciate that you felt bad for following me,” she said. “But you’re following me now, too. It’s got to stop.”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Right away. Pronto.”
“Good. Then we have an agreement.” She pulled the car door handle and opened the door.
“Wait a minute.” Gerald put a hand up, then turned and opened his car door to get something off the front seat.
Helene positioned herself behind her open car door, though if he pulled out a gun, it wasn’t going to do her a hell of a lot of good to stand behind the door.
“Here.” He produced
a manila envelope.
She looked at it skeptically. “What is it?”
He approached her, holding it out. “Just something that might come in handy for you.” He shook it at her. “Go on, take it. It’s not gonna bite you.”
Slowly, she reached out and took it. “Thanks. I guess.”
He gave a quick nod and dragged his hand along under his nose. “Just, uh, just save it for a rainy day.”
She frowned and started to open it.
Gerald, meanwhile, got into his car, started it up, and drove away, his little blue car spitting a small black stream of smoke behind it.
The envelope contained papers. Photos, she saw when she looked closer. She pulled them out.
“Oh, God.”
They were full-color eight-by-ten photos of Jim and Chiara Mornini, naked in Chiara’s big round red satin bed. There were hands, legs, tongues, and fairly graphic shots of other body parts.
There was no doubt what was going on.
Helene felt sick. She put a hand to her chest and sat down in the driver’s seat, closing and locking the doors before looking at the pictures again.
She wasn’t sure which was more upsetting to her, seeing Jim, whom she knew to be a philanderer, or seeing Chiara, who she’d thought was her friend.
For a long time, Helene just stared at the pictures. Anyone passing by and glancing in at her would have thought she was some sort of sicko looking at porn in a public parking lot.
If only she had the money, the access to her credit cards, she would have gone right into the mall and spent these worries away. But she didn’t. Thanks to Jim.
Thanks to Jim.
The realization dawned on her like sunrise on time-lapse film. Gerald had just done Helene a huge favor. So had Chiara, come to think of it, though the bitch certainly hadn’t intended to.
Neither Jim nor Chiara would want the press—or, more important, Anthony Mornini—to see these pictures.
If she acted fast, Helene could write her own divorce settlement.
Joss went home and fell dead asleep in bed. It had been a totally exhausting night.
The next morning, her alarm went off and, half sleepwalking, she got Bart fed and dressed and took him over to his friend Gus’s house. Fortuantely Gus had a very cool older nanny named Julia, who took one look at Joss and said, “Honey, go home. You look like you can use the rest.”
“No, I’m fine,” Joss objected, but she stifled a yawn halfway through the sentence, which detracted from her point.
Julia laughed. “I was twenty-something once. Go home. And someday you can spell someone else the way I’m spelling you now.” She gestured for Joss to go. “Don’t worry, they’ll never know. I’ll give you a ring when it’s time to come get Bart.”
Joss didn’t need much more convincing than that. In fact, she was genuinely afraid that if she stayed and watched in nanny-ish silence, she’d fall asleep in her chair. “Thanks,” she said gratefully. “Really. I owe you one.”
“Forget it,” Julia said, waving her hand. “I was young once, too. I remember having a life.”
If she only knew. Still, Joss was more interested in going back to the house and getting some much-needed sleep than explaining the less-interesting truth of where she’d been the night before. So she thanked Julia and drove back to the Olivers’ house.
Alone. She was finally going to be alone. This would be the first time in, what, three months? Joss was giddy with anticipation as she pulled her car into the driveway.
She noticed the dark green Saab parked outside on the street, but since it was parked closer to the neighbor’s property than to the Olivers’, it didn’t register as anything of any importance.
Not until she got inside and heard a strange man’s voice—well, no, that wasn’t accurate, it was more of a strange man’s grunts (but they were distinctly too high to be Kurt Oliver’s)—coming from the Olivers’ bedroom, two doors down from Joss’s.
She froze for a moment, wondering what to do.
Here it was, the proof that what Deena was accusing her—trying to convict her—of was the thing she, herself, was guilty of. Theoretically, Joss could take her handy-dandy camera phone to the door and get pictures of Deeena in the act. It would make her life a lot easier.
But…eew.
She couldn’t do it. No matter how horrible Deena had been to her—and Deena had definitely been horrible—Joss couldn’t go to the door and take pictures of her having sex with some guy.
Then again, she couldn’t very well stay here, acting like she didn’t notice anything was amiss. Obviously Deena wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, since she’d left her bedroom door halfway open.
Joss scurried, as quiet as a mouse, into her room and called Sandra. “Help.”
“What’s wrong?” Sandra asked, not questioning who was on the line.
It was nice that they’d become good enough friends that they didn’t have to announce who they were on the phone.
“I left Bart at a play date,” Joss whispered, getting as far from the door and bordering walls as she could get. “And I came home and there is some sort of raunchy sex going on in the Olivers’ bedroom.”
“Ick,” was Sandra’s first reaction. Then, “But I guess they’re entitled since it is their house and they thought you’d be taking the child out.”
“It’s not him,” Joss whispered urgently. “I heard a man who is not Mr. Oliver. I think she’s having an affair. And, as much as I’d like to humiliate her by catching her, I’d much much much rather get out of here and pretend I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Sandra said. “The way she’s been treating you…you do know this could be to your benefit.”
“I know, but—” Joss shuddered. “—no way. So what do I do?”
“In that case,” Sandra’s voice was strong and definitive, “you keep the phone on your ear and if someone comes in, start chatting like you’ve been listening to me, and not them, all along. I’ll wait on the line so the phone doesn’t ring in your ear unexpectedly.”
“Okay.” Joss took a steadying breath. “Okay. I’m opening the door….” She opened the door to her room. “And I’m stepping quietly into the hallway.”
“Oooh!” came from the Olivers’ bedroom, just before the door burst open and a thin arrow of a man, with white-blond hair and a white-white goatee, flew into the hall, buck naked and sporting an almost comically large hard-on. “Come and get me, big boy,” he said, clearly unaware of Joss’s presence, “if you dare.”
“If I dare!” The voice, shockingly, was not that of Deena Oliver.
It was Kurt Oliver.
Joss knew it because he leapt into the hall after the blond, equally naked, equally hard, but not nearly so big.
All Joss could think, as she backed frantically back into her room, was that she’d seen too much.
Way too much.
“Joss?” Sandra was calling over the phone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Joss rasped, trying to catch her breath, although at this point it was surprise, in addition to panic, that had gotten a hold of her. “But it’s Mr. Oliver.”
“Oh, Mr. Oliver is with Mrs. Oliver?” Sandra questioned.
“No,” Joss whispered. This was too weird. Things like this never happened in Felling. Or, if they did, people kept it well hidden. “It’s Mr. Oliver and some other guy.”
“Oh!” That got Sandra’s attention. “Then, for God’s sake, get some pictures with your phone.”
“Pictures! God, you want to see this?”
“No, they’re for you. Keep them, just in case you need them later, as evidence, or blackmail, or something.”
“But—”
“—but, nothing. This might be your best defense against Deena Oliver if she accuses you of anything else. Seriously, Joss, I know you don’t want to, but get out there and take some picures. You don’t have to use them, but if you need to, at least you’ll have them.”
&nbs
p; “I can’t. I don’t even want to look!”
“You don’t have to look, just hold up the phone. Trust me,” Sandra urged, “you’ve got to do this. For your own protection.”
“Okay, okay, but then how the heck am I going to get out of here without them noticing me?”
Sandra laughed. “Honey, from what you tell me, they’re not that interested in what’s going on around them.”
It was true. After Joss hung up the phone, she peered around the corner from the door, and the two men obviously had no interest in anything but each other. So she drew back quickly, closed her eyes against the image that was now burned into her gray matter, and held her camera phone out to take two pictures.
The noises didn’t stop, so she gathered she had managed to go undetected. However, given the fact that they were in the hallway, she doubted she could manage to leave without being noticed.
She had to wait until they were finished. Or until they moved. Fortunately, the hall led to two different stairways in two different parts of the house. Unfortunately, the men were currently in between both.
So she leaned back against the wall, hiding, waiting, and—so ironic—hoping she wouldn’t get caught.
It felt like hours, but in reality it was more like ten minutes before they went downstairs to the kitchen.
Joss crept stealthily down the stars like a child on Christmas Eve trying to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus, only in her case, she was trying to avoid the odd bearded man in the house.
She opened the front door and looked into the surprised eyes of Deena Oliver.
They must have mirrored the surprise in her own eyes. Or at least some of it. Given what Deena was about to walk in on, though, she had more shock coming.
“What are you doing here?” Deena demanded. “You were supposed to take Bart to a play date.”
Joss wondered frantically if she should talk loud, to warn the men someone was coming, or if she was better off pretending she knew nothing.
She decided this was not something she wanted to get in the middle of.
Shoe Addicts Anonymous Page 25
