Double the Love

by Taggart, Molly

  "Oh, I see," she drawls slowly, "so the first three things that come to mind are all ways I can serve you."

  Daniel's tongue edges out from between his teeth. He shakes his head. "You stepped right into that one, my friend." He rests his fingertips on Eden's shoulder. "My love, I think this might be a good time for us to make our exit."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A week passes, and although Aaron and Janice fall back into a comfortable marriage routine, there’s still a lingering tension between them. Her period has just “wrapped up,” as Aaron puts it, so he tells himself that’s the only reason they haven’t been having sex lately. They still say “I love you” every night. They kiss on their way out the door.

  Eventually, the Harrises repay their dinner invitation with one of their own, which is why Aaron is driving at the moment.

  "This is a beautiful neighborhood," says Janice, glancing out the window at the stone houses, each individual and unique, not the cookie cutter stamp-outs of their own neighborhood.

  "Yeah, I wonder why we didn't look here." Aaron turns down the truck's radio.

  "We did look here,” she says. “You said we couldn't afford it, remember? Although we probably could now, the way my business has taken off."

  He glances at her. She’s sternly watching the double yellow lines that partition the street. Does she mean to imply he was an inadequate provider? “Our house is plenty big,” he says. “It’s more than we need.”

  The GPS tells him he’s missed his turn even though there’s nowhere to turn. "Recalculating… recalculating… recalculating…" He smacks the steering wheel.

  "Maybe we should ask for directions," Emily suggests from the back seat before returning to her book. Sophie is asleep in the booster seat beside her.

  "What do you mean ask for directions?” Aaron grumbles. “We have a GPS. I'm not asking for any directions. I know where I'm going."

  Janice rolls her eyes as he makes a U-turn in the middle of the street, goes slightly up a curb, and then gets back on the road in the other direction.

  Aaron has chosen "Heather," an unexciting American girl, for his navigational voice, but whenever he gets in the truck after Janice has borrowed it, he finds she’s switched it to a British male voice. "In 300 meters, exit the motorway," the GPS now advises.

  "The motorway?" Aaron exclaims in the direction of the GPS. "We're in a neighborhood with a bunch of dead ends!"

  "We should ask for directions,” Janice insists.

  "I've got it figured out! I've got it figured out now. Don't you worry."

  "Recalculating….Recalculating…"

  "And why do you keep putting this on that British guy?" Aaron asks. "What, a southern accent doesn't turn you on anymore?"

  "A southern accent wasn't one of the choices,” Janice says, a little tightly. “And I like the way it says motorway instead of highway. It's pretty sexy. Motorway. There’s something sexy about an educated voice, don’t you think? Something sexy about an education?”

  Aaron jerks the truck to the right when he spies a sign he sees on the GPS map, even though the GPS doesn’t tell him to turn.

  "Turn right," the voice intones.

  "Now you tell us, you bloody Brit," he mutters.

  As they drive down the street, Aaron gazes around at the changing neighborhood. The modest, attractive homes they drove past earlier are being eclipsed by towering, mansionesque houses with triple-car garages and perfectly manicured lawns. He knows what the average professor makes, and it isn’t any more than he and Janice pull in together. So is Daniel still rich, after all? Has he held onto his money in the divorce? Or did Eden's books on the Shakespearean authorship controversy have a larger audience than Aaron would ever guess?

  He grows increasingly uncomfortable as the houses get larger and larger. "Geez…" he says. "Geez…" But then the GPS tells him to "bear right," and he finds himself driving down another road with more moderate houses. Janice calls off the numbers as they get closer, and Aaron pulls into Daniel's driveway, relieved to see a typical, middle-class house much like his own.

  Janice pats him on the shoulder. "Feel better now?" she asks. "They're just regular people." It’s amazing how she can read his mind and know what concerns him. He supposes if you share a bed with a woman long enough, she figures you out pretty well.

  "Yeah," he says. "You got the wine?"

  Janice reaches down between her feet and holds up the bottle. Sophie wakes up as soon as Aaron switches off the truck.

  Aaron is bothered by Janice’s obvious disappointment in him. He feels bad that he can’t seem to overcome his discomfort with her desire to throw herself into so many new things. He makes the small offering of coming around the side of the truck and opening her door for her. She accepts, for now. "Thank you," she drawls as she swivels her long legs to the side and slides from the truck. "Look at you, being a gentleman." She kisses him on the cheek.

  “Enough with the PDA,” Emily mutters as she leaps down from the backseat, sure to bring her book with her.

  When Eden invites the Mitchells inside, the first thing they hear is screaming.

  "Don't mind our boys," Daniel says as Eden takes the proffered bottle of wine. "They've just been sent to their room for a bit. One more minute!" he yells. "I told you! Every time you yell in there, you're getting another minute!"

  "NOOOO!" comes one boy's voice.

  "Ten minutes now!" yells Daniel.

  "It's not FAIR!" comes the other boy's voice.

  "Eleven!"

  "DAAAAD!" come both voices at the same time.

  "Twelve!"

  "Daniel, darling," Eden says, returning from the kitchen where she deposited the wine, "perhaps yelling at them not to yell doesn't send the most consistent message possible."

  "Well, Eden, darling, if you think up any more of these useful ideas while you're gone from 8 AM to 6 PM, enjoying uninterrupted lunches with your colleagues and conducting research in the calm stillness of the library or having rational conversations with your adult students, do pause a moment and write them down on a note card and be sure to put it in my suggestion box when you get home just in time to find dinner waiting for you on the table."

  Aaron would feel uncomfortable about this domestic bickering if both parties didn’t seem thoroughly amused with each other.

  "I'll be sure to do that," Eden says. "Fortunately for you, I just bought a fresh pack of note cards."

  "What's that I hear?" Daniel asks, cupping a hand around his ear. "Silence. Do you hear it, my love? Do you? They've stopped. They're taking it like men."

  By now the Mitchells are in the Harrises' living room. Emily has already ducked into the formal library and ensconced herself in a chair. Her parents excuse her rudeness and Daniel shrugs it off. “Eden’s like that sometimes. Just wants to read and not be interrupted.”

  "Let me show you to the playroom, young miss," Daniel says to Sophie. "And when Othello and Cory are finished in the contemplation corner, they'll join you."

  Eden invites the Mitchells to sit down in the living room and asks whether they want beer or wine. Sophie apparently finds the toys suitable, because she does not emerge from the playroom when Daniel returns.

  "So how did you two meet?" Janice asks.

  "When I was living and teaching in New York," Eden answers, "I published my first book, and I felt like I needed an accountant. I thought my finances were pretty simple, but Daniel kept telling me I had to come into the office for clarification." She glances at her husband and smiles slightly. "He was…persistent. He was also good-looking and charming."

  Daniel laughs. "Was, she says. Because after we had kids, you know, I let myself go."

  "How about you two?" Eden asks. "How did you meet?"

  "In high school," Janice answers. “He was a senior and I was a sophomore when he needed a little Algebra II tutoring.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” Daniel smirks. “Cradle robber.”

  “We didn’t start dating until she wa
s a senior,” Aaron insists. He went back to her for help with his college math requirements, on weekends and breaks. He didn’t have the nerve to ask her out. He was older, but she seemed somehow more mature. They joked and laughed whenever they were together, and sometimes he swore she was flirting with him, but she was so smart. He feared that, deep down, she could only think of him as a dumb jock. Though he did well in most of his high school and college courses, he struggled with math and science. He’d also grown up as an only child to a distant single father, and despite being a good-looking athlete, he’d always been unusually shy around girls. So instead of telling her how he felt about her, he pretended it didn’t bother him when she talked about her boyfriends. She went through three guys before he finally had his chance. She was dumped the night before the senior prom, and, crying, she called him at his college dorm. He took her to that dance, took her in his arms, and never let her go again. Six months later, they were married.

  "That’s impressive," Eden says. "You don't meet too many thirty-something couples who have already been together that long."

  "Long time," Aaron agrees, and he looks at Janice almost shyly. She’s smiling just a little. They’ve been married through two kids now, one who’s starting high school next year. That is a long time for a woman as beautiful and as talented as his wife to stick with one man. “Long time,” he repeats, and places a hand lightly on the small of her back.

  They all eat dinner on a table on the back porch, which means the kids can run free as soon as they’re finished and leave the parents to chat. One of the boys—Cory, Aaron thinks – disappears around the front of the house and comes back with a soccer ball. This is of no interest to Sophie, Aaron notices. She continues to swing on the stand-alone swing Daniel built using a few planks of wood and rope. She lies on her stomach, running against the ground with her feet, and then lets go.

  Aaron watches Cory kick the ball to Othello and observes that he’s surprisingly skilled for a five-year-old.

  Janice, as usual when they’re in company, steers the conversation. "So which elementary school are y’all zoned for?"

  "Barren Run," Daniel says, "but Eden wants me to home school the boys. At least until 6th grade. Then we'll kick punt them into the middle school."

  Aaron glances curiously at Daniel.

  "Homeschooling!" Daniel raises his wine glass. "It's not just for religious nuts anymore!" Eden shoots Daniel a look of caution. "What?" he asked. "They go to church on Sundays. They're religious, but they're not nuts. They know I'm not insulting them. Well, Aaron does anyway. I apologize, Janice, if you took offense."

  Janice smiles and half shakes her head. "Speaking of offense," Janice begins, "I hope you don't take offense at this question, but if you're going to homeschool…do you worry about socialization?"

  "Not really," Daniel replies. "I have friends. Aaron at least will still condescend to hang out with me, won't you, buddy?"

  Janice laughs. "I meant for your boys, obviously."

  "Nah," Daniel says. "They play with the neighborhood kids all the time. Plus I'll put them in community sports. And Eden was home schooled and she still somehow manages to make eye contact. Isn't that right, my love?"

  "I can't take you out in public," she answers.

  "Good thing we're home."

  "What do you want them to play?" Aaron asks. "Soccer, right?"

  Daniel laughs. "Well, Cory loves it. But Othello much prefers to swim. And, of course, once they get to high school, they'll both have to be on the rifle team."

  "Of course." Aaron watches Cory head butt the ball. Ten years, he thinks. So much has changed in just the past one year. Where will he and Janice be in ten?

  "Hey, I haven't showed you my gun room." Daniel stands up.

  "Your gun room?" Aaron asks as he rises to follow him.

  "Sure. Don't you have a man cave?"

  Aaron has his study, where he spreads out all of his soccer play diagrams when he’s preparing for a game. It has a small TV and a DVD player and a little fridge stocked with beer and water. It also has a couple of shelves where he stores his trophies and awards, but it’s nothing like Daniel's man cave. Aaron watches with raised eyebrows as Daniel unlocks the deadbolt on the door with a set of keys he draws out from his pants' pocket, and when he swings open the door and turns on the light, Aaron steps in cautiously. He looks around at the shelves and shelves of metal boxes, some of which are closed and some of which are opened and appear to hold empty shell casings. He observes the immense gun safe situated against the far wall, and the long workbench that houses a strange apparatus with a cone shape at the top and a handle. "Is that a reloading press?" he asks.

  "Yep," Daniel says, urging him excitedly in. "Yeah, I do all my own reloading here. Saves a lot of money. I sold Eden on it because I pointed out to her that it was basically recycling. Got to be green these days, you know."

  Aaron humors Daniel while he points out all the equipment and opens the safe to show off each of his guns individually. Aaron doesn’t quite get the man's enthusiasm for rifles, but he also understands what it’s like to experience an enthusiasm people don’t get. Football was the big thing in Georgia – not soccer. Most people in his home state didn’t appreciate how amazing the sport is.

  "Okay, you're bored, aren't you?" Daniel asks. "Eden tells me I don't know when to stop." He closes the gun safe and turns the large handle until it clicks.

  When they’ve returned to the door of the room, Aaron turns back and glances around in amazement. "Why didn't you go into law enforcement or the military or something like that?"

  "You know, I had no interest at all in guns until my son was twelve."

  "Really?"

  "Yep. My father was big time into fox hunting, so, naturally, I was anti-hunting and anti-guns." Daniel steps through the door after Aaron. "My son developed an interest in firearms. He did some shooting with a friend and really loved it, so I figured it was good opportunity for me to bond with my boy, right? I took classes, bought us each a rifle…and the rest is history. My son lost interest some time in college. I, on the other, hand…" He points inside the room just before he closed the door, "Well, you see." He turns the dead bolt.

  "How long were you married to your first wife?"

  "Fourteen years."

  That’s about as long as he and Janice have been together, and still it fell apart? Aaron slowly climbs the stairs behind Daniel. He can’t imagine surviving a divorce like that. How does a man move on? Daniel has obviously managed, but Aaron simply can’t imagine what his life would be like if he didn’t spend every year of it with the mother of his children.

  As much as he enjoys Daniel's company, Aaron suddenly wants very badly to be home alone with his wife.

  CHAPTER NINE

  On the way home from Daniel and Eden’s, Janice gets a call from a client about a last minute catering opportunity. She makes Aaron swing by the grocery store. She’s on the cell phone with her staff the whole way home, delegating who’s making what. She walks straight into the kitchen when they get home, grocery bags in hand, leaving him to take a sleeping Sophie to bed. His little girl wakes as he tucks her in, and they pray and he reads her a story. He then goes to check on Emily in her room and tells her she has to stop reading and turn the light out in thirty minutes.

  As he walks past the kitchen, he can hear pans clattering. Janice certainly won’t have any time for him tonight. He walks on to his study. He sharpens a pencil, sits at the small desk in the corner, and opens his playbook, but after fifteen minutes he admits he isn’t concentrating. He thinks about Daniel getting divorced after fourteen years of marriage. He thinks, also, of Janice's father, who left her mother, and about all the marriages that fell apart back home in Georgia. He can’t stop drawing up the list in his mind—all the broken and aching families he’s known. There are so many.

  He goes to the kitchen and watches Janice work. She’s flying from fridge to counter, counter to stove, stove to sink. “What can I do to help?
” he asks.

  She laughs. She’s making delicate, flowering, puffs stuffed with spinach and crab. No doubt she thinks he’ll ruin anything he touches. His hands are accustomed to holding soccer balls, not pastries.

  “Do you need anything from the store?” he ventures.

  She shakes her head and continues her frenzy of activity.

  “Do you need anything at all? Do you need….me?”

  The foil she’s just torn loose lets out a loud rasp and then shimmers. She freezes with her back to him. She must have heard the way his voice cracked before he could steady it. Janice turns slowly. “You could help me put these in storage containers for tomorrow and cover them with foil. As they come out of the oven, you need to put them on the cooling rack, and then…” She tells him what to do, and he follows her instructions. They work together for a solid hour.

  She finishes sculpting the last batch of shells and he takes the tray from her hands and slides it in the oven. “It’s artistic,” he says as he closes the door, “what you do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t immediately supportive about the college thing. I’m just …it’s a lot to juggle. And there’s been a lot of changes lately. I’ve got my soccer team, but you know, we're a team, too, Janice. You and I. And I want to…I’m here to cheer you on. I want you to know that.”

  She smiles and slides a sticky, flour-coated hand around his back. He doesn’t care that his shirt will be a mess. She rises on her tip toes and kisses him. “I know all this change hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “I was a stay-at-home mom for years, but…I want something else now. And it may be a few years before I go back to school yet. Like you said, the business is really picking up, but it’s something I was just thinking about. So I talked to Eden about it.”

  As he places his hands behind himself on the stove top, which is warm from the oven below, she relaxes her grip on him, allowing her hands to rest on the waist of his dark blue khakis. She snakes one finger through his belt buckle. “You never even told me you were even thinking about it,” he says. “That’s what bothers me. And maybe you had a point. Maybe you were right to think I would react badly.”