18
“Oh, Jo. What am I going to do?” Nora moaned. It was the end of the day, and they were sitting at a table together in a little sandwich shop a few blocks from their building. The waitress came by to refill their coffees a second time, but Nora still had no compulsion to go home.
Jo leaned back in the wrought-iron bistro chair and scrutinized the younger woman. “Nora, I’m going to say this because you already know I’m thinking it, okay? Here goes.” She took a deep breath. “I told you so! Why on earth do you not listen to your elders? Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”
Jo was the only person she could talk openly to about her crisis, the only friend who knew the sordid details of all that was going on. Renee was a ready and willing alibi when she needed one, but she was too caught up in her own love affairs to care much about the details of anyone else’s heart problems. Although Jo disapproved vehemently of the double life Nora was leading, and didn’t hesitate to say so, she also understood the emptiness Nora was trying to fill, and was a willing sounding board for her. “You can’t keep this up, Toots, being in two places at once. You’ll go crazy, I guarantee it.”
“Crazier than I already am? Is that even possible?” Nora shook her head. Almost every waking moment was spent keeping track of her story, and her dreams were even more distressing. The more time she spent with Tristan, the harder it was to go home and pretend like she didn’t want to be somewhere else. Yet while she was with him, she missed her family, she missed being a family. Granted, she could hardly stand being alone with Jake, but she missed the camaraderie they had once shared, the four of them doing life together. They’d been a family far too long for her not to miss it.
“Not in a million years would I have imagined that I would be the one to be unfaithful. I thought it would be Jake, if either one of us was to go down that road, because I’ve always considered his drinking to be an affair of sorts. He was much more interested in the woman at the bottom of the bottle than he was about me and the kids when he drank.” When he quit drinking, the doubts waned dramatically in light of the relief Nora felt, but every once in a while, they resurfaced, usually due to some erratic behavior on his part. In the last few years, she admittedly found herself doubting him more often, wondering what he did with the unaccounted hours in his days. Although she never found evidence to support her fears, neither did they ever quite go away. “Which is why I wasn’t surprised when he told me about his little waitress the morning after he came home plastered, back in September.”
“Why didn’t you leave him then, Nora? Even your church would have supported you back then. But not now. Now you’re the bad guy, not him.”
Jo’s words mocked her somehow. This wasn’t a game they were playing; she wasn’t trying to one-up Jake, or point fingers. She knew they were both at fault before the waitress or Tristan came on the scene. But the truth was that she, Nora Anderson, had always been the rock in their marriage, the stable one, the dependable one, the stalwart enabler, and she was still having a difficult time believing that she, and not Jake, was having a real-life, full-blown affair.
She was even more surprised at how easy it was to lead the double life. At first, anyway. She put distance between her and Jake as a result of his night out, and it worked to her advantage as she indulged in her new relationship with Tristan. The increased time she spent with the children by taking on their transportation needs and extra-curricular activities eased her conscience somewhat, but as Tristan demanded more of her time, she found she was having a harder time juggling everything. Jake was aware of her weariness and frustration, she knew, but he didn’t question her when she attributed it to being overwhelmed with work. He willingly helped when she let him, but instead of freeing her up, it just weighed her down with guilt.
The turmoil was affecting her work. She was having a difficult time concentrating and paying attention to details, and some of her customers were beginning to notice, not just Renee. At the beginning of her illicit romance with Tristan, she’d been radiant, glowing with passion about everything from paint colors to bed linens, and her clients were ever so responsive to her suggestions. Now she felt stretched so thinly she thought she might be see-through in some places, just like Jo had said so many months ago, and she sensed her customers’ loyalties beginning to waiver. Heaven forbid that Jake, or even worse, the children, should happen to see through one of those transparent places to what was really going on.
“I just can’t make myself leave him, even though I know it’s not fair to him that I stay.” Her voiced cracked as she spoke from her turmoil. “Sometimes I actually hate him for needing me so much, but I’m tired of carrying around his fears. He’s afraid of losing me. He’s afraid of making me angry. He’s afraid of not meeting my needs. He’s always, always, asking me if I’m okay. I can’t stand it!” She felt tethered to him, tied down, a ship held fast by an anchor in the middle of the ocean, never able to make it to any port.
“Huh. Sounds like pretty good reasons to leave, if you ask me.” Jo toyed with the yellow fringed plastic on the end of the toothpick that had held her sandwich together.
“You don’t get it, Jo. Sometimes, I need him, too. I know what to expect of him, and I know what he expects of me, and sometimes that’s exactly what I need.” She frowned. “This sounds terrible, but he’s like my favorite pair of jeans. I know where his worn spots are, and I’m usually comfortable with the way he fits.”
In contrast, with Tristan, everything was an adventure; new, uncharted territory. His confidence and self-assurance excited her, and she was caught up in the whirlwind of his world. The way he abandoned himself into his art, exposing himself in fearless brush strokes and vivid, bold colors, made her heart ache with something she couldn’t define.
Guilt and shame warred with passion and self-indulgence, and she was beginning to hate herself for the constant state of compromise in which she lived. “But what do I do? How do I get out of this now? I don’t want to lose either one of them. I get nauseous when I think of giving up Tristan, and I have panic attacks when I consider leaving Jake. I…I think he might die if I do. Besides, I can’t even imagine how it would affect the children.”
“If you didn’t have kids would you still be with Jake?”
“I’ve asked myself that question, too, but we do have kids so it doesn’t really matter what I might or might not do if we didn’t.”
“Are you still sleeping with him?”
Nora cringed, disgusted even by the thought of it, even more so by the truth of it. “With Jake? Yes,” she admitted, shame tightening her throat around the words. “It’s so wrong, Jo. Sometimes I go from one bed to the other in the same day because I can’t say no to either one of them.”
“Tristan knows that you go home to Jake, and he’s okay with that?” Jo scowled, her disapproval unmasked. The toothpick snapped in two, and she tossed the pieces onto the table between them.
“I don’t know that he’s okay with it,” Nora said. “We don’t talk about it. But he knew I was married when we started seeing each other, and he didn’t make any demands then. Maybe he just doesn’t think about it.” She shrugged and stared down into her half-filled coffee cup. “Or maybe he avoids asking because he doesn’t want to know the truth. I don’t know.”
“What kind of guy is okay with screwing you and then sending you home to your husband to be screwed by him?”
“Wow, Jo. Thanks for putting it so delicately.” Nora frowned at her friend.
“Hey, I’m not the one warming two beds, Toots. There’s nothing delicate about your dilemma, except for the way you have to maneuver yourself through it. You’re going to trip up. It’s inevitable.” Jo wiped her mouth with her napkin, folded it neatly and tucked it under her cup. She smoothed on a fresh coat of lipstick, dropped the tube back into her purse, and began to dig for her keys. “You know how I feel about Jake, that I think your marriage is pretty hopeless, and that I think you deserve so much better.”
“You’re always so encouraging, Jo.” Nora’s sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, but Jo pressed on even harder.
“Yep. But the way I see it, your Tristan isn’t any better a man. He sounds fun and charming and passionate and all those good things, but he also sounds selfish and immature to me. He’s getting his cake and eating it, too, but he doesn’t have to pay a penny for it.” She reached across the table and put her hand on Nora’s arm. She continued in a more gentle tone, but her words were just as harsh. “Of course he’s not asking questions or making demands, Toots. Why mess with a good thing, you know? He—”
“Okay!” Nora interrupted, pulling away from Jo’s touch and covering her ears with her hands. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” She grinned wryly, trying to lighten the blow of her outburst, but Jo wouldn’t let her off the hook so easily.
“I’m being honest with you because you’re my friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else either. But if you don’t figure things out, like I said, it’s inevitable. There are going to be a lot of hurting people in this town. You’re the only one who can do anything about it. You know that, right?”
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jo finally spoke again. “You want to know what to do? Really?” She waited until Nora responded with a nod. “Just do the right thing. I know you know what that is.”
Nora dropped her eyes to the table cloth, her shoulders slumping, but didn’t say anything. Jo stood and came around the table to hug her friend.
“Go home, Honey. Go home until you sort things out.”
19
Easing her eyes open, she stared at the moonlight prying its way between the slats of the blinds, slashing the bed covers to ribbons across their bodies. Nora tentatively drew her legs up, curling into herself, turning her back to the sleeping man beside her. Please don't wake up, please, oh please. She held her breath, afraid even the tiniest exhalation would stir the air between them, reminding him of her presence.
Why was she here, she asked herself for the thousandth time. Why did she keep coming back when she knew it would just mean more pain, more heartache for everyone? What was it that kept drawing her to him, to his arms, to his bed?
Like a druggie to the needle, like a drunk to the bottle, like a moth to the flame, like a fly to the web, like a.... The taunting voice inside her head paused, running out of stupid clichés to which she could compare herself.
Oh God, where are You? A single, hot tear spilled from the corner of her eye, running down her temple and into her ear where it pooled and tickled. She didn't wipe it away; all she needed now was for him to wake up and find her crying.
Her low back ached from the pressure in her bladder, and she knew she couldn't hold it much longer. Sliding her feet from beneath the covers, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She waited, afraid to look at him, to see his eyes half open, his hands reaching for her.
But he didn't stir. She took a step away from the bed, tugging her nightgown down over her hips. The floor creaked and she paused, slowly turning to glance over her shoulder at him.
“Mmpph.” He rolled onto his side and flung out his arm. It landed on her pillow, and his hand curled around the soft edges, pulling it toward him. She fled the room.
Standing at the sink a few minutes later, she dropped her chin to her chest, and covered her face with both hands. Her tears surprised her as they began to fall in earnest. What was she going to do? How was she going to get out of this? Where would she go? Where could she go?
Tap-tap-tap! The punctuated rap of knuckles on the door startled her, and she let out a frightened squeak.
“Nora? Are you okay?” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and she shivered at the rasp of it. “Nora?”
“You scared me, Jake! I'm fine. Just going to the bathroom.” She prayed he wouldn't notice the catch in her voice.
“Are you okay?” He knocked again.
“I'm fine, really. I'll be right out.” Please go away, she silently begged him.
“Are you sure? Do you need anything?”
Just for you to leave me alone. Can't I even go to the bathroom without you checking up on me? “I'm fine, Jake,” she said again, hoping the children wouldn’t wake up. “Really.”
“Are you coming back to bed?”
“Where else would I go?” The words were out before she could stop them.
“What was that?” He jiggled the handle, and she grimaced, thankful she'd had the foresight to lock the door.
“I said, 'Just needed to go,' Jake. I'll be right there.”
“Okay.” He didn’t sound very certain. “Don't take too long. I'll keep the bed warm.”
As she washed her hands, she studied her face, the mirror above the sink stark and honest in the glare of the energy-efficient lighting that framed it. She hated those bulbs, preferring the old-fashioned kind with the softer glow. It had been a long time since she’d shed any tears over the condition of her marriage, and she resented the dreams that had her emotions so stirred up without her permission. The puffy shadows under her eyes, and her swollen, red nose, bore witness to both her lack of sleep and her tears. She hated crying. She couldn't hide it to save her life. One look and he'd know.
“Oh well,” she shook her head and opened the door, reaching over to turn off the light as she did.
“You’re crying.” Jake stood there in the hallway just outside the bathroom. This time she actually shrieked.
“Sorry!” He reached for her, pulled her up against him. “I didn't mean to scare you, Nor.”
She hid her face in his chest, her heart pounding so hard between them she thought she could feel it reverberating back against her cheek. Why on earth was he standing outside the bathroom door in the dark?
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. If he asked her that again she would scream. And maybe never stop.
“But you were crying.”
“Just a nightmare, I guess. I woke up crying.” She surprised herself at how easily the half-truths slipped off her tongue these days.
“What was it about?”
“I don't know, Jake.” She pushed away from him. “I just woke up sad from it. Which means I probably don't really want to remember it.”
“Okay. If you're sure….” He studied her while she brushed her fingertips across her cheeks, wiping away any lingering dampness. Standing this close to him in the narrow passage made her feel ill at ease, and she turned away to gaze across the hallway toward the bedroom.
“Were you waiting to use the bathroom?” she asked, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye.
“Oh. Oh! Yes. Yes, I was. But I just want to make sure...”
“That I'm okay?” She cut him off. “I'm fine, Jake. Honest. I'm just tired. It is the middle of the night.” Nora pressed her hands to the ache in the small of her back that hadn’t eased up, even after using the bathroom. She realized her mistake too late.
His eyes dropped to the contour of her breasts now plainly outlined beneath the thin fabric of her nightshirt stretched across them.
He reached up and cupped her curves possessively. “You're so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her. She turned away slightly, not ready for where this was heading, and Jake's voice dropped to a husky whisper against her ear. “Playing hard to get, are you?” He slid one arm around her and pulled her against him, his other hand skimming up the back of her thigh beneath her hem.
Trapped.
Oh, no, no! Please no. She held her breath as his fingers caressed her flesh, his mouth moving over her face, her neck, her shoulders. His choppy breathing was making her stomach knot, and she flinched as his teeth nipped at her ear.
“I thought... Didn’t you say you needed to use the bathroom?” It was a desperate attempt, but that's exactly how she felt. Desperate.
He whispered against her neck; there would be no reprieve tonight.
~ ~ ~
Jake awoke from his troubling dreams and p
eered through half-open eyes at the clock on his bedside table. He sighed, rolled onto his back, and reached over to rest his hand on his wife's thigh. Her skin was warm from sleeping cocooned against him. The familiar rhythm of her breathing was a sound he loved waking up to.
She looked so serene and soft with her long hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head, her mouth relaxed and slightly open, her brow smooth, sleep softening the lines of motherhood, and work, and life in general. But her eyes seemed puffy to him, as though she'd been crying, and he closed his eyes, trying to recall if anything had happened the night before that would cause her pain.
Nothing. He remembered nothing but a certain stillness about her she'd attributed to fatigue. She readily agreed to go to bed when he asked her to, and she readily participated in their love-making before falling asleep beside him, her foot resting against the top of his the way she'd done their whole marriage.
And later—he smiled at the memory and felt his pulse begin to quicken—in the middle of the night she'd come out of the bathroom looking all soft and rumpled, her hair a little wild around her face. She'd cocked her head and peered up at him out of the corner of her eye, posing in a provocative way that drew his gaze away from her face, away from her glistening cheeks....
She had been crying. She'd brushed it off as nothing, just dreams. I'm fine, she'd said, then let him lead her back to the bedroom.
Jake sighed, berating himself for being so insensitive. He should have paid more attention to her needs and not his own. Something had upset her, and even if it was only her dreams, they'd been bad enough to make her cry. He studied her again in the morning light.
Waters Fall Page 15
