by T. L. Haddix
She made sure the doors were all locked, then went to the bedroom. As tired as she was, she still couldn’t get in the bed. She stood beside the bed she’d shared with John for five years. She hadn’t even been able to come in the room last night and face it. The idea that John might have been involved with someone else had been too much to bear. She’d curled up on the couch, instead.
Except for when he was finishing school in Richmond and the nights she’d been in the hospital having the boys, they’d spent every night of their marriage together—until the night before. And Zanny didn’t know if they would ever spend another night together again. That idea was unbearably sad.
She loved sleeping with John—not just the lovemaking, but the actual act of sleeping with him and sharing that intimate space. She knew that if she needed strong arms around her in the middle of the night or got cold, she could curl into him and be welcomed. She liked feeling his body beside hers, hearing his breathing, and waking up to see him sprawled on his stomach, his jaw shadowed with the dark beard that he had to keep closely shaven.
She swallowed against the memories that threatened to rise up and overtake her. She knew that the best thing for their marriage at that point was space and time. Keeping that at the forefront of her mind was going to be hard. But she knew she had to do it.
Stripping down, she climbed under the sheets and pulled the covers up to her chin. All she wanted was the oblivion sleep promised. Everything else would take care of itself in time. Whether or not it worked out the way she wanted, the wheels had been set in motion, and how the story ended was out of her control.
John made it as far as the living room of the farmhouse, where he found Amelia and his sons. He kicked his shoes off and settled in on the rug to play with the boys, who climbed all over him with glee. Amelia was on the couch doing homework, and though he could tell she was curious, she didn’t say anything other than to inquire as to whether Zanny was okay.
When his sister sighed for the fourth time in ten minutes, John peeked over the top of her notebook to see what she was doing.
“It’s algebra,” she volunteered. “It makes no sense. And they put me in the advanced class because I’m supposed to be smart. I think they should have put me in the remedial class, instead.”
“Let me see.”
She handed him the notebook, where five lengthy equations were written out. They looked simple enough to John. “What is it you don’t understand about this?”
“All of it.”
“Explain what it is your teacher wants, then.”
She did, and they were in the middle of a discussion about what Amelia understood and didn’t understand when Owen and Sarah came in.
“Hey, kids. What’s shaking?” Owen asked.
“John’s helping me with algebra.”
Eli climbed onto the couch and held up his arms for Sarah, who stood behind it and hugged him. “Have you had lunch?” she asked Amelia.
“Not yet. I wanted to wait and see if you all got back first.”
“Then why don’t you change clothes, and you and I will head out for a little while?”
“Sure. Will you be here later?” Amelia asked John as she put her textbooks back in her bag.
He handed her the notebook. “I’ll be staying for a few days.”
She blinked at him rapidly, then gave a small smile. “Okay. Then maybe you could help me figure this out later.”
“I’ll be glad to.”
He stood as she bounded out of the room and upstairs with a loud clatter. John noticed that his mother had yet to look at him directly.
“Mom, I—”
Sarah held up her hand. “Don’t talk to me. Not yet.” With Eli in her arms, she turned and left. “Noah, come with me. Let’s get you boys some food.”
“Guess she needs some space, too, huh?” John asked Owen.
“I think that’s a safe bet.”
John had the feeling the fallout was only just beginning. “Well, if I had to screw up, I suppose now is as good a time as any. At least Emma isn’t here to rake me over the coals, too.”
To his surprise, his father laughed, though the sound was somewhat sad. “Oh, John. That probably is just about the only silver lining in this whole mess. If she was here, she really would kick your ass.”
Though Ben had returned home the fall before, Emma was still in Georgia, working as an assistant photographer for a prominent photography studio.
“You know what, though? If she was here, she’d be angry with me, yes. But she’d also be here for Zanny.” John scrubbed his hands over his face. When he’d walked in and seen the boys, the implications of what he’d done and what he’d said had started to hit him. “Tell me she’ll be okay, Dad. Tell me I can fix this?”
Owen slid his arm around John’s shoulders and hugged him, but he didn’t say anything. That was very discouraging. John supposed his father couldn’t really make that kind of pronouncement, but it would have been nice to hear the platitudes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time Wednesday evening came around, word had spread through the family about the separation. Zanny had heard from all John’s siblings at least once, including Rachel, who was in school in Lexington.
Furious at John, Emma had called her from Georgia. “If you want me to, I’ll be on the next plane home. I’ll hold him down, and you can beat him to death.” Though the words were typical Emma and made Zanny laugh, the edge to Emma’s voice worried her.
“Are you okay? You sound kind of funny.”
“I’m…working on something. Someone. And it isn’t working the way I’d hoped. That’s all. So I may come home and move in with you. Then we could really make John pay. But I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. When are you going to talk to him?”
“Tonight. Your folks are going to pick the boys up and give us some time. I have to tell him about the baby.”
Emma was quiet for a minute, long enough that Zanny wondered they’d lost their connection. “I’m sorry all this is happening, Zan. As much as I bluster, I’m really sorry you’re having to go through this mess. My brother’s an idiot, but he loves you.”
Zanny had come to that conclusion herself. “I know he does. But I don’t know if that’s enough anymore, Em. I don’t know if it ever was, really. And that’s something I guess…something I’ll have to figure out before we can do anything else. I hope he understands that.”
Owen came by just after four for the boys. “We’ll spend some time in the library and then get some supper. We’ll call before we come back, make sure it’s okay.”
“I appreciate this, Owen.”
“Don’t mention it. How have they been sleeping?”
“Okay. It’s been an adjustment.”
The boys had not reacted well to John’s absence. Eli had been a little anxious, but Noah had been affected the most. He’d turned clingy and a little sullen and was clearly confused as to why his father wasn’t there. Zanny had tried to explain that Daddy was spending a little time with Grandma and Grandpa, but Noah wasn’t buying it. Though he was only four, he was very sensitive to her emotions and to John’s. He always had been. If the separation lasted much longer, they were going to have to work hard to make sure Noah felt as secure as possible.
“Well, hopefully, my boneheaded son will come to his senses. If it’s any consolation, he’s been moping.”
“We will see.”
John got there a little before six. “Sorry I’m late. I was in a meeting with Dave.”
Zanny hated that she was inspecting him for signs of lipstick. “It’s okay. Come on in and sit down.”
She tucked herself into a corner of the couch, with her back against the arm. John took the opposite end, and for a few minutes, they just looked at each other. He did look tired, and
she felt a small pang of guilt.
“How are you?”
She gave a half-hearted shrug and looked out the window behind the couch. “I’m coping. You?”
“Marking time. I don’t like being apart from you, Zanny.”
An awkward silence fell. She managed to curb her instinctive rejoinder that he’d been the one who caused them to be apart, but just barely. She didn’t speak again until she had the impulse firmly under control. “There’s something I should tell you. I’m pregnant.”
John looked away from her, and she could see him blinking rapidly. “I figured as much.” He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. “How far along?”
“About eight weeks. I didn’t suspect until a couple of weeks ago. I had a light period, you know, and I’ve never done that before. How’d you know?”
His mouth moved into a tiny smile. “I know you. Things just fit.”
“I know we didn’t plan this.”
He surprised her by chuckling. “Zanny, we never plan this. We seem to be good at not planning this.”
That startled a laugh—and a few tears—out of her. Without speaking, he handed her the box of tissues. “Thanks. We do keep finding ourselves pregnant, don’t we?”
“Think this one’s a girl?”
“I don’t know. I’m not as sick. That’s part of why I didn’t suspect sooner. As a matter of fact, if they hadn’t done a blood test, I would have a hard time believing I’m actually pregnant.” A deep sadness settled in her chest. “John, what are we going to do?”
He held out his hands, and she leaned forward and took them. “I don’t know. But something I need you to know, to believe—I am not now, nor have I ever been, cheating on you.”
She tilted her head and studied him. After a bit, she decided it was time to make a decision about that. “I believe you. But we’re in trouble. Do you believe that?”
John’s face grew guarded. “I believe you believe that,” he hedged. “And I can understand why you think that. But I think we just need to work on a few things.”
Zanny gently pulled her hands from his. “We do need to work on a few things. But I don’t think they’re small. I think they’re pretty big. First and foremost, you’re not happy. Until we address that, we’re kind of stuck.”
She could tell she’d struck a nerve by the way he flinched, his head snapping back as though he’d been slapped. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, as he caught his breath. “How do you propose we do that?”
Zanny wrapped her arms around her knees. “By talking about whatever it is that’s been bothering you for the last few months. I believe you when you say you aren’t cheating on me, but…” She shrugged, feeling helpless. “Cheating isn’t the only way a marriage can end.”
John nodded. “I know.” That was all. He didn’t elaborate or offer to explain what was bothering him.
Zanny felt a flare of annoyance. “So do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you?”
He picked at a spot on the back of the couch. “Actually, I need to excuse myself. Is it okay if I use our bathroom?”
“Um, sure. It’s your house.”
He left her sitting on the couch, staring after him in consternation. Zanny didn’t know what to think. They’d always told each other everything, or at least she’d thought they did. That openness was part of the depth of their relationship. They’d always been able to talk openly and freely, without fear of condemnation.
Whatever John was holding back had to be pretty big, and that made her perhaps more nervous than anything had thus far.
Chapter Twenty-Three
John gripped the counter in the bathroom, staring himself down in the mirror. Zanny was waiting for him in the living room, waiting for him to open up about what was bothering him. The trouble was that he had no idea where to begin.
He’d been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. The way he’d spoken to Zanny, and about Zanny to his father and Ben, kept coming back to haunt him. His mother still hadn’t spoken to him, other than a few cold words here and there. He could only imagine what she would have said if she were talking to him.
John knew Zanny worked hard. He knew that keeping the house orderly while still managing to make it a home for a lout like himself and two small, active boys wasn’t easy. But that was part of the problem. Things were too perfect. How was he supposed to tell his wife, the sweet woman who worked so hard to make the ideal home life for him and his sons, that he felt as if he couldn’t live up to her standards?
And then there was the other issue—the problem that had been growing ever since shortly after Noah was born.
For the first few months of their marriage, intimacy between John and Zanny had been more than he’d ever dreamed it could be. They were fun, spontaneous, hot, desperate, and everything in between. But after Noah was born and Zanny had healed, things had been different. The first time they’d tried to make love, John had gotten overzealous. He’d hurt her. Not badly—he hadn’t raped her, but his vigorous enthusiasm had caused her discomfort.
The thing was, Zanny hadn’t stopped him. And John, too caught up in the sensations of being inside her for the first time in about three months, didn’t notice until she started crying. He’d stopped immediately, but the damage was done to his psyche. A couple of weeks passed before he was even willing to try again he was so worried, despite her assurances that she was okay. And he’d needed a while—at least a month or two—to relax enough to have anything approaching normal sex.
They’d fallen into a gentler routine, which he still enjoyed, but the fire that had been there before was tamped down. After a while, John put his stronger urges aside and just accepted that their intimate life was what it was. He’d pretended for the last four years that he was satisfied with the way things were, and he’d done quite well, he had thought.
It hadn’t started to bother him until the last two or three months. The need for more was getting to be more than he could control.
How the hell was he supposed to tell his wife—his pregnant wife, no less—that he’d been consumed in recent months with the need to screw her senseless? Especially considering that the last time he had made love to her like that, he’d hurt her?
That wasn’t something he could talk to anyone about. And the pressure was really starting to get to him in a pervasive way.
He knew Zanny was sitting in the living room, waiting for him to come back in and spill his guts. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. He knew she would take it personally, as though she had failed, and after the way he’d hurt her the week before, he couldn’t bear to do it again.
He had to give her something, though. He thought he knew where to start. Pushing away from the counter, he headed back into the living room. She’d turned on the lamp and closed the curtains against the darkness beyond the windows.
“Hey. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
He didn’t sit down, but walked over to stand in front of the fireplace. It had been an ugly red-brown brick when they’d bought the house, but Zanny had painted it and the whole living room a soft, creamy white. She’d done an excellent job of transforming the old house into a cozy and welcoming home. He realized he’d never told her that and opened his mouth to say how much he appreciated her efforts, but then he figured it probably wasn’t the time.
“So there was a bit of a mess at the office, thanks to Tracy’s little game.” Hands in his pockets, he turned to watch Zanny carefully. “Dave’s probably going to let her go because of it.”
She pushed her hair back behind her ears. “I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me, either. It’s sad, because she’s a good CPA. But what she did?” He still couldn’t quite fathom it. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you and done something.”
&
nbsp; She took that in for a minute. “Thank you for that. What if he doesn’t fire her? What then?”
“Well, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Remember Hershel Bowling?”
“Sure. The guy who owns the coal mine and all that commercial property, right?”
“That’s him. He called again last week. We didn’t get a chance to discuss it, thanks to all the drama. But he made me an offer. I think I want to take it.”
Zanny frowned lightly. “What kind of offer?”
“A good one.” He told her that Hershel was offering a significant increase in both benefits and salary, and her eyebrows shot up.
“Wow. That’s a very good offer. What’s holding you back?”
“Dave. I hate to leave him. He gave me a start, Zan. He didn’t have to.”
She nodded. “That’s true. But, and don’t take this the wrong way, even though you didn’t necessarily cause the whole thing with Tracy? I think it probably isn’t going to be the most comfortable working situation for you with everyone else.”
“I know. And I think I’d like the job with Hershel better. I wouldn’t be dealing directly with the general public. It would be a challenge, but in a good way.”
“It’s ultimately your decision, but I think it sounds like a good opportunity. And I think Dave will understand.”
He stretched. “I suppose so. I have to give Hershel an answer this week. I just…I don’t know what to do.”
