by Moore, Lila
She was petty and ridiculous. There was nothing between me and Theo; she had nothing to feel threatened by. Of course that didn’t stop her from viciously trying to neutralize me as a threat. I was starting to understand why all the other mothers hated her.
“You forgot your coffee,” Theo said from behind me.
I stiffened. I hadn’t heard him approach. He handed it to me over my shoulder. I took it without turning to face him. When I’m nervous, or angry, my face gets red and I had no doubt it was scarlet now.
I didn’t want him to see me like this.
I heard the sound of a deckchair being dragged across the wooden floor. Theo sat down beside me, but slightly behind as if he was afraid of getting too close. I could see him out of the corner of my eye watching me.
“Mrs. Devereaux was called away,” he said. “An emergency at her store.”
“I hope everything’s okay,” I said, not really caring.
“I’m sure it’s fine. It will be a relief to have her-”
“Have her what? Gone?” a man said from behind us.
We both startled at the sound of his voice.
“Mr. Devereaux,” Theo said, “you’re home early.”
I glanced at my watch. It was after six. How late did he usually get in? I wasn’t sure what he actually did for a living, but it was hard to imagine any job in our small town operating late into the evening.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m just messing with you.” A wolfish grin spread across his face as he sized me up. “And who is this?” he asked.
Theo cleared his throat. “This is Mrs. Sinclair. Her son Aiden is friends with Bella. She brought him over so they can play.”
He kept his eyes on me as Theo continued to talk.
“Mrs. Devereaux was called away with an emergency at the store.”
Mr. Devereaux nodded absently as if he was barely listening. “Have you prepared Bella’s dinner?” he asked sharply.
“Uh, not yet.”
“Why don’t you go do that now?”
It was more of a command than a request. Theo looked at me uncertainly then said: “Right away, Mr. Devereaux.”
I watched Theo leave. He looked tense. I sensed he didn’t like leaving me alone with Mr. Devereaux.
He sat down in Theo’s seat, inching his way closer to me.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.
“No.”
“I’m sure I’d remember a pretty thing like you.”
I took a big drink from my coffee. The sugar and caffeine made my head swim. I cleared my throat.
“The kids seem to get along well,” I said, trying to change the subject away from me.
“It’s warm out. Why don’t you take off that sweater and relax,” he said, ignoring my comment.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You’re a different breed, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just that most of these soccer mom types they’re all so, well, uptight. I can tell you’re different. You’re the kind of girl who’s been around the block- the kind of girl who knows how to keep a secret.”
He leaned in close and placed his hand on my knee.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
I squirmed away from his touch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you a good girl?” he said with a laugh. “No. I can tell you’re wild. You’re an artist, right? I’ve seen your work down in the courthouse.”
It was true; I used to be an artist before my husband died. It was how we met, but I stopped painting when he died. The piece that was hanging in the courthouse downtown was actually done by my husband though.
“I don’t know,” I said, wanting this conversation to end.
“Sure you do. It’s the painting of the farmland down past the lake. It’s signed Sinclair.”
“That was my husband’s work.”
“Oh, that’s right the one who died. I was there when they pulled his body out of the lake.”
Part of me was repulsed by Mr. Devereaux, but another part of me was oddly comforted by his candor. I spent so much time around people who tap-danced around my husband’s death. They would feign outrage or sympathy. It was patronizing and insulting. I didn’t want or need anyone’s pity. Mr. Devereaux couldn’t be bothered to fake pity. He was simply stating the facts.
“You were there?” I asked.
“I used to be volunteer law enforcement. They called us all down to scour the area for clues.”
“Clues? I don’t understand.”
The days following the discovery of my husband’s body were all a blur to me. I was in shock. I remember very little from that time.
“Evidence. The Sheriff suspected murder. Still does. We never found any evidence though.”
This was news to me. Town gossip was that my husband had been murdered, or committed suicide, but I had no idea the Sheriff had seriously entertained these notions.
Mr. Devereaux put his hand back on my knee. “Don’t you worry, now. No one ever suspected you.”
I snapped my head around. “Of course not. Why would they?” I was speaking louder than I should have been.
“Easy now,” he laughed. “I’m not accusing you. I know you’re innocent. It’s just that you’re not from around here. You come from the city and for some folks that’s enough to make you suspect. Trust me, I know. I grew up out in the country, but used to work in the city. No one trusts me now just because I had an important job on Wall Street.”
He squeezed my leg and moved it higher up my thigh. He was starting to make me angry. I wanted to scream in his face: Really? You think they don’t trust you because you used to work on Wall Street? Maybe it’s because you’re a creep who can’t keep his hands to himself?
I tried to bite my tongue, but I couldn’t resist. “Are you so sure I’m innocent? I mean you never know. Wives snap all the time. They find out their husband has a wandering eye and they lose it. Do you know any temperamental women like that?”
I hoped he was smart enough to read between the lines: if your wife finds out, she’ll kill you. He didn’t look frightened. In fact, he thought it was hilarious. He threw his head back and laughed.
“I knew I was going to like you. You’re feisty.”
I gritted my teeth. “I think it’s time Aiden and I go.”
I didn’t bother to make an excuse as to why we were leaving. I jumped up. It was a relief to have his clammy hand off me.
“Aiden?” I called. “Time to go.”
“But mom-”
“No, buts. It’s getting late and you’ve got school Tomorrow.”
“I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of each other,” Mr. Devereaux said.
He took out a business card and handed it to me. I glanced at it. It listed his name and phone number. There was no business title or profession listed.
“Now, that’s my private number,” he said. “You call whenever you like.”
He smiled at me like a used car salesman while brushing his light brown hair out of his face. His blue eyes sparkled with a degree of charm. If he wasn’t a cheater and a creep, he would have been cute.
I stuffed the business card into my pocket and walked across the lawn to Aiden. As usual, he was taking forever to collect his things. I put his dinosaurs in his backpack and told him to tell Bella goodbye. I had the urge to flee this madhouse before I was cornered again.
“Bye Bella.”
“Bye Aiden!” she screamed.
I winced, then laughed. Bella was loud, but adorable in her own outspoken way.
“Thank you for having us, Bella,” I said.
“Thank you very much for coming,” she responded; perfectly polite, but in a way that sounded rehearsed.
I took Aiden’s hand and led him towards the gate. I didn’t want to go through the house and get trapped in another conversation with Mr. Devereaux or Theo.
“Don’t forget to call now,” Mr.
Devereaux said with a wave.
I smiled politely and dragged Aiden back to the car.
“Bella says I can come back whenever I want,” he said.
“We’re never coming back here again.”
3
After dealing with a litany of why’s from Aiden, I finally managed to get him off to school. He’d spent all evening and all morning demanding to know why I refused to go back to the Devereauxes’ house.
I couldn’t tell him the truth, that Bella’s father was a creep and her mother was manipulative and cruel. Ultimately, I quieted his demands for answers by promising him he could invite Bella over sometime to play. He seemed satisfied for the moment, but I was sure that would change.
I was relieved to see him off to school. I drove away and briefly considered going by the art supply store and picking up paints and brushes. In a moment of grief and anger, I’d thrown away all my art supplies. I never regretted the decision until this morning. I’d woken up to the sight of a Goldfinch perched outside my window. I’d never seen one at this time of year. My first instinct was to worry that the little bird was hurt, but it soon flapped its black wings and started to groom its yellow breast.
The bird’s coloring was a stark contrast to the dead leaves outside. I desperately wanted to capture the image in paint, but I’d thrown everything out. The only art supplies in the house were Aiden’s crayons and whatever remained in my husband’s art room, but I couldn’t bring myself to go in there.
I laid in bed a bit longer and watched the Goldfinch hop along the windowsill. I was afraid to move lest I scare it away. Eventually, I had no choice. I had to get up and get Aiden ready for school.
To my surprise, the bird didn’t fly away. He tilted his head to the side and watched as I dressed. In that moment, I became strongly convinced that there was something more to the bird. Its presence was an omen. What I didn’t know was whether he brought good tidings, or a warning of doom.
After dropping Aiden off at school, I drove down Mainstreet. When I came to the art supply store I slowed. I wanted to stop, but a nagging voice told me to move on. I was convinced my artistic talents had died along with my husband. There was no point in continuing to think I had what it took to call myself a painter.
I drove slowly. I could still stop. It wasn’t too late. A car horn blasted from behind me. I jumped and hit the accelerator. I sped past the store feeling rattled. Without thinking, I pulled up to a local coffee shop and went inside.
The last time I’d been inside was with my husband. As I entered the shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit me. I was awash in memories. I could see myself sitting with Tom by the window after a night in the city. We’d come home late, but we had no desire to go to bed. We ended up in the all-night café talking and laughing.
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind me.
The dreamlike state I was in burst.
“Sorry,” I said, stepping aside so a woman could get past. I was blocking the door. Suddenly, I wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. I turned to leave.
“Sabine!” a woman called from the other side of the store.
I pretended like I didn’t hear her and opened the door.
“Sabine!” she called again.
There would be no escape. Maddie was on me, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around. Before I could stop her, she wrapped me up in a big hug, squeezing the breath out of me.
I coughed and hugged her back gently.
“God! It’s been forever,” she said.
Maddie and I used to be friends, but we drifted apart in the wake of Tom’s death.
“Yeah, how are you?”
“Good, good. How are you?”
She narrowed her eyes and examined my face closely as if she was trying to decipher a puzzle.
“Good,” I lied.
She nodded slowly. “Would you like to sit down?” she said delicately.
The fact that she was treating me like I was fragile proved how little she thought of my mental state. Maybe she was right. I hated to think I was that far gone, but Maddie’s face was twisted with concern.
I let her lead me to a table in the back of the café. She took the liberty of ordering a cappuccino for me. I told her I was in a rush, but she insisted I stay and have a coffee. I relented though not without protest.
“So, what’s been going on in your life?” she asked. “Anything exciting?”
My life consisted of taking care of Aiden and little else. It’s hard to explain how all-encompassing grief can be. It was like my life had come to a standstill the night I got the call about Tom.
“The usual. Nothing special,” I said, not wanting to talk about the depressing truth.
“No men in your life?”
I laughed. “Just Aiden. He’s a handful. I don’t think I could handle anymore.”
“You never know. You might meet someone when you least expect it.”
I shrugged and thought of Theo. There could never be anything romantic between us. It felt like a betrayal of Tom to even consider falling for another guy. Theo was cute though. I tried to tell myself the attraction was just physical and nothing more.
“Speaking of men,” I said. “Have you ever met Mr. Devereaux?”
“Yes! He’s the worst.”
“I took Aiden over to his house yesterday for a play date. Mr. Devereaux started hitting on me as soon as his wife was gone. He gave me his number and told me to call him.”
“Please tell me you’re not going out with him?”
“No! Of course not. He creeped me out. He wouldn’t stop touching my leg. It made me super uncomfortable. Besides, even if he wasn’t a creep, he’s married. I’m not getting involved with a married man.”
Maddie frowned as if considering something.
“What?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with a married man?”
“No.”
She laughed off my question, but there was something off about her response. It was none of my business what Maddie did. Still, I couldn’t help but worry she’d gotten mixed up in an affair.
“You know, Mr. Devereaux got a girl who works here pregnant,” she whispered.
“Does Mrs. Devereaux know?”
“I don’t think so. As soon as her baby bump started showing, she disappeared.”
“Permanently?”
“No. She came back a year later. Her stomach was flat and she never mentioned a baby. Everyone assumed she had it in secret then gave it up for adoption. She stayed on here for a while, but left a couple years ago.”
This was the first I’d heard of any of this, but I wasn’t surprised. Mr. Devereaux struck me as the type to have more than a few skeletons in his closet.
“Best you stay far away from him,” Maddie said.
“Trust me, I’m way ahead of you. Aiden’s furious.”
“Why?”
“He’s quite taken with Mr. Devereaux’s daughter, Bella. She’s really sweet. I hate to punish the kids by keeping them apart, but that house is just too much for me. His wife was a real bitch to me, too.”
I was surprised by how angry I felt at the memory of the way she’d callously used my husband for her benefit. I’d spent most of the last year wandering around in a daze, feeling numb. This was the first time I’d felt really angry in ages. Maybe talking with Maddie had brought out something in me I’d lost.
“What did she do?” Maddie asked. She leaned in confidentially as if someone might be listening.
“Nothing,” I said, losing the desire to rehash it. “She was just rude.”
“Well, that’s the Devereauxes for you. Have you seen their hot manny?”
I sipped my coffee and nodded as if I was disinterested. “Yeah. He was at the house, why?”
I was curious about the gossip surrounding him, but I couldn’t just come out and say it. I didn’t want Maddie to know I was interested. It was too embarrassing.
“He’s easy on the eyes. Don’t you
think?”
“I suppose. I didn’t really notice,” I lied.
“‘Didn’t really notice,’ please! How could you miss him? He’s a ten.”
I smiled and bit my lip.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, what are you thinking? I can see that gleam in your eye.” She studied my closely, like she was trying to figure out a particularly challenging puzzle. “You do think he’s hot, admit it,” she said.
“He’s cute, but…”
“But, what?”
I shook my head dismissing her question.
“Did he ask you out?” Not waiting for my response, she said: “You should ask him out. Ask him out for coffee or for a date in the city.”
“I’ve never been good at approaching men.”
Not true, actually. I approached my late husband first, pursuing him even after we’d had a disastrous first date. He’d spent the whole night babbling about work. Then when he tried to kiss me, he tripped and fell into me. I slipped on the icy sidewalk and landed flat on my ass. We laughed about it later, but at the time I thought we’d never see each other again.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’d never called him up for a second date if he’d still be alive now. It was too depressing to think about. A part of me felt cursed. My father had died young too. I had no memory of him. He died a couple months after my birth. Was any man who got too close to me destined to have the same fate?
“I’ve been busy lately,” I lied. “And, you know, Aiden is a handful. I don’t have much time for dating.”
“Make time. A man like that doesn’t come around often.”
“Mrs. Devereaux seems quite taken with him,” I said.
I dangled the bait in front of her, hoping she’d pick it up and spill everything. Were they sleeping together? I shouldn’t care, but the idea bothered me.
“Mrs. Devereaux is fond of most guys.”
Maddeningly, she didn’t elaborate.
“Do you think they’re…?”
“Sleeping together?” Maddie shrugged. “No. I don’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as the type to fall for her charms.”
I wasn’t so sure. Mrs. Devereaux had a tight, fit body, long blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin was tanned year round and she had an aggressive confidence that men seemed to like.
