by Karen Cimms
“Okay.”
“What should I tell him?”
“What do you want to do, Iz?”
She shrugged. “We haven’t seen him for almost two weeks. Zac misses him. And you.”
“Right,” I tried to smile. “That’s fine then. Tell your brother. He’ll be happy.”
Chase told the kids to be ready by eleven Thursday morning. I got up early, showered, did my hair, and put on makeup. I wore a pair of dark jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, somber and conservative. I hadn’t called him again, but I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to talk to him when picked up the kids.
I had expected him to use his key, so it surprised me when the doorbell rang about ten after eleven. Before Zac could beat me to the door, I pulled it open. Dylan stood waiting on the porch. I peeked out to the driveway, but the Range Rover was empty. He smiled a little more smugly than usual, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking the obvious.
It didn’t matter. Dylan was happy to offer the information.
“He’s waiting for me to drop them off.”
I was afraid my voice would give me away, so I just nodded and closed the door, leaving him outside in the cold. After I kissed my babies goodbye and made Izzy promise to call me when they got to Allentown, I climbed back into bed.
When Dylan dropped them off again Sunday night, that’s where they found me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I went back to work the next day. I warned Mom when I walked in the door that I didn’t want to talk about anything. I could tell it was killing her, but she left me alone. So did the rest of the crew. I worked in the kitchen, trying to make up for lost time, stockpiling soup bases, muffins, and cookies in case I had another meltdown. I had a feeling there would be more in the days and weeks ahead.
Turned out the next one wasn’t even that far away.
After we closed that afternoon, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home and was loading my groceries into the back of my Escort when a man walked past me, then doubled back.
“Excuse me.” He smiled. “Are you Rain Storm?”
I shook my head.
“Really? I could’ve sworn you’re the same girl who used to work at Blondie’s.”
It was obvious he didn’t believe me. “It’s Holgate. Rain Holgate.”
He snapped his fingers and grinned, shooting his index finger in my direction. “That’s right. You’re Rain Holgate now.”
“Yep.” I kept moving bags into the trunk, not in the mood to talk about old times and sure as hell not in the mood to get hit on.
“Well, Mrs. Holgate, I guess this is for you.” He handed me a large manila envelope.
“What is this?” I turned it over. It was addressed to me. The return address was a law firm in Allentown.
“Sorry, Mrs. Holgate. You’ve been served.”
The look on Diane’s face when she opened the door said it all. The tears running down my cheeks only confirmed what she’d already heard.
“Irreconcilable differences.” She set the divorce complaint down on the table. I had tried to read through it, but my brain refused to process the words. They melted and ran into each other, running together like the rivulets of rain trailing down the glass patio doors.
“What does that even mean?” I gripped the mug of tea Diane had poured when I’d first arrived and relished its warmth. The sky had grown dark and the rain began to ping against the window and onto the deck as it turned to sleet. The kitchen was warm and comfortable, but still I shivered.
“It means that he thinks you two are incompatible and that there are problems that can’t be fixed.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I know you guys were having issues, but honestly, I’m stunned.” She took my hand and held it from across the kitchen table. “What happened? Something had to have set this off. He didn’t just get up one day and decide he didn’t want to be married anymore. He practically worshipped you. I don’t get it.”
Worshipped me? I never wanted to be worshipped. I only wanted to be loved. By him. And if Chase worshipped me, why did he want a divorce? He couldn’t possibly believe the nonsense he’d thrown at me. It made no sense.
I struggled to take a full breath, but it seemed impossible with the thousand-pound weight sitting on my chest.
“I don’t know. The only thing I can even think of is when he came home early a couple weeks ago and started carrying on about some flowers someone had dumped in the parking lot of the shop. Then he accused me of—” I struggled to find the words, not even wanting to say them out loud. “He accused me of sleeping with Preston. He acted as if he’d just missed us in the act.”
“Wha-aat? What would make him think that?” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t—”
“No!” I stood so quickly the ladder-back chair flipped over, noisily clattering to the floor. “Geez. If you don’t believe me, no wonder he doesn’t.”
“I do, I do. It’s just … it’s Preston. You never had a lick of sense where he was concerned.”
“So you think I’ve been deliriously happy for four years, madly in love with my husband even through his insane bouts of jealousy, and then one day I just said ‘Fuck it! I’m going to throw it all away on some loser who wasted nearly two years of my life’? That’s how little you think of me?” I stooped to pick up the chair.
“No wonder my husband left me. You guys should form a club.”
I grabbed my coat.
“Rain, stop it.” She yanked the coat from my hands. “Sit down. I do believe you. But if my mind went there so quickly, think how his must be working. Have you tried talking to him? I don’t understand how seeing some flowers could make his mind jump right to adultery. He’s not crazy, for god’s sake.”
“I don’t know. He had this whole elaborate scenario worked up in his head. And to listen to him tell it, even I might’ve believed it.” I sat back down and explained about the music, the wine, and the shower.
“Yeah, that’s a wee bit incriminating, given your history. But there has to be more to it than that.”
There wasn’t. Anything more would be a totally made-up story, and who would do that? I couldn’t believe anyone in Chase’s family would want to hurt me bad enough to hurt him as well. It had to be some horrible misunderstanding. But what?
“Not that I can think of. And he won’t take my calls. He took the kids for Thanksgiving, but Dylan picked them up and dropped them off.” My voice broke. “He won’t come anywhere near me.”
Diane toyed with the spoon beside her cup in thought. “Maybe the next time he takes the kids, you can give Izzy a letter to give to him. Or I can ask Wally to give it to him.”
“Who knows if he’ll even read it?”
She sighed, then picked up the complaint and other papers that were in the envelope. “It seems what he’s doing here is filing for an uncontested divorce. The letter from his attorney implies that if you don’t go along with it, he might file for divorce citing adultery. You really don’t want to go through that, sweetie.”
I pressed my hands against my mouth. When I was certain I could speak without screaming, I balled them into fists and lowered them to the table. “On what grounds? He’d have to prove it. And he can’t, because it didn’t happen. If he wants to drag me through the mud, then let him. I’m not signing this.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not.”
“I’m not sure you can stop someone who wants a divorce from getting one. And he’s being very generous here. You get to stay in the house and on the mortgage, yet he’ll continue to pay it and take care of any major repairs. You only have to pay for utilities. He’ll keep the kids on his insurance and continue to put money into their college funds. Plus this is a generous amount of child support—you know, legally, he doesn’t have to give you a dime for Izzy.” She pursed her lips. “If you fight him on this, he could turn into a real bastard. It happens, sometimes even with the best of men.”
I rose from the table and stalked to the sink, dumping my unt
ouched tea and splattering it over the dirty dishes piled in the dish pan. I added the cup to the mess. “Too bad. I’m not rolling over and going along with this. I don’t know what his angle is, but I don’t believe for one second that in the course of three weeks, that man decided he no longer loves me.” I yanked the papers from her hand and stuffed them back into the envelope. “I’m not signing. He loves me. He’ll be back.”
Chase loved me as much as I loved him. I wasn’t just being hopeful. Even when he was a jerk, he loved me. And he loved our family. He’d be back. He just needed to come to his senses. I had to bide my time.
“What are you going to do?” Diane asked, following me to the door.
“Right now? I’m going to pick up the kids and then go home and make dinner.”
She pointed to the envelope. “I mean about that.”
I held up the envelope. “As far as I’m concerned, this doesn’t exist.”
“If you ignore this, it will proceed without you.”
“I’ll figure something out.” I buttoned my coat and tugged on my gloves before I stepped out into the cold. “I’m not losing my husband. That’s all there is to it. I’m not.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to win Chase back if he refused to speak to me or see me. I had no idea if he was listening to my messages or reading my emails. I figured out how to attach those read receipts to my emails, but they never came back as having been read.
In the meantime, Chase removed himself from our joint checking and savings accounts and had his attorney send me a check each week in the amount he had proposed in the settlement papers. He continued to pay the mortgage and the insurance on the house and my car. The attorney also sent an additional three hundred dollars for Christmas gifts from Santa, along with a note saying Chase would be buying gifts for Zac and Izzy from him. That hurt almost as much as the initial divorce papers. For some reason, I’d pictured him putting this nonsense aside at least long enough to go to Toys“R”Us and do the Santa thing together.
But no, he told Izzy he wouldn’t be coming to her Christmas concert or her dance recital if I was there. I agreed to stay home for the Sunday afternoon recital so that he would go, but only because she begged me. My mother told me he arrived late and left early, but I was glad for Izzy’s sake that he made it.
He’d said nothing to the kids about Christmas itself, and I held out little hope that we’d spend it as a family. I sent another email inviting him to at least come for Christmas morning, even if he didn’t want to spend the entire day with me, or if not, suggesting ways we could each have the kids for part of the day.
I was surprised to get a reply within the hour.
By the subject line of your last email, I assume you’re interested in discussing an equitable arrangement for the kids and Christmas. First, I’d like you to understand that I have deleted your voicemails and emails without listening to them or reading them, and I will continue to do so. I have also discarded your letters. I understand because of the children we are in an untenable position that forces us to communicate, but for now, Izzy is of an age and level of maturity that she could handle being a go-between. I’m sorry to do that to her, but it is the only way I can manage at this time. I want no communication with you. I do not wish to see your face or hear your voice. You at least owe me that courtesy. I’ll be giving Izzy a cell phone when I see her. That should make things easier for all of us.
Easier? He couldn’t be serious.
After looking up the word “untenable,” I closed the laptop. He hadn’t used my name once, nor did he sign his own. It didn’t seem possible for one brief email to hurt this much, but it did.
I stared at the wall, unseeing, before finally putting the laptop away in my room. I read Zac a story and tucked him in, promising that yes, he’d been a good boy again today and Santa was certainly watching. I kissed him good night, then knocked on Izzy’s door. She had her earbuds in and was doing math homework. I couldn’t help but smile. The only math I could do was tripling recipes, and even then I second-guessed myself. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She jumped, then tugged the earbuds from her ears.
“Could you do me a favor?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. She nodded. “Email Dad or call him, whatever, and find out what he wants to do about Christmas. Whatever he wants is fine. Just let me know what you decide.”
She nodded slowly. “Do you think he’ll come here?”
I tried to control the emotion seeping into my voice. “You can certainly invite him, but don’t be disappointed if he says no.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to bed soon. Don’t stay up late.”
She rose from her desk and wrapped her arms around my waist, tucking her head beneath my chin. “I love you, Mom.”
I closed the door behind me. In the kitchen, I took a lime from the bowl on the counter and sliced it into wedges. I pulled the bottle of tequila from the cabinet over the refrigerator, grabbed a shot glass and a salt shaker, and headed for my lonely bedroom where I drank until it didn’t matter anymore why I was drinking.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was well past midnight, yet the bedroom light remained on. It had been hours since I responded to her email. Was she still up? Had she fallen asleep with the light on? I tugged my jacket tighter, then decided to risk it and start the engine. I’d been sitting a half block from the house for a little over an hour now, and I was freezing. As I sat there, the Christmas lights decorating my neighbors’ homes flicked off, one by one. There were no lights outlining the outside of my house this year.
Just one more disappointment I’d heaped onto my kids.
I’d become the ultimate stalker. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Rain, afraid I’d cave and beg her to take me back. Even though she didn’t love me. Had probably used me. Yet I couldn’t stay away. I needed to know she and the kids—our kids—were home safe.
I also needed to know she was alone. The thought made the blood pound in my head. Should Preston show up one of these nights, there was a good chance I would end up in jail. It was foolish for me to be there. I knew it, and every morning I swore never again. And every night, here I was.
Other than the first couple of nights after I’d left and while I was in Allentown over Thanksgiving, I’d driven past the house I’d shared with Rain every night. I’d park just beyond the edge of the property, the last on our street, where a copse of trees partially obscured the truck, and I’d wait for the bedroom lights to go out. I would imagine her curled under the covers, the little sounds she made as she fell asleep, knowing that within ten minutes, she’d be dead to the world.
And then, even though I wanted to stay, I’d drive back to the gas station and sleep on Dylan’s shitty couch. I’d be moving into an apartment on the second. I’d found a place not far from where I lived when I first moved to New Jersey, and although a part of me wanted to get as far from here as possible, I couldn’t leave the kids. I’d all but lost my heart leaving Rain. I couldn’t lose them too.
It was growing late, yet the bedroom light remained on. I turned off the engine and leaned back. I pictured her reading my email: harsh words, but this was the way it had to be. She couldn’t keep trying to contact me. I hadn’t opened or read any of her messages, but I’d lied about throwing them out. I’d saved everything. I couldn’t open them, but I couldn’t delete them either. I hated lying, but this was self-preservation.
My eyelids growing heavy, I stared at the window through the barren branches and tried to picture what she might be doing up this late.
A sharp rap against the window made me jump. A cop stood beside the truck, motioning for me to open the window. Fuck. I must’ve fallen asleep. I glanced at the bedroom window. The light was still on.
“License and registration.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, tugging my wallet from my back pocket. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”
The officer didn’t answer. He ju
st continued to shine the light into the cab of my truck, running it over the seats and foot wells. I handed him my information and rubbed my eyes while he strolled back to his cruiser to run a check on me. I wished he’d turn the lights off. Nothing like flashing red-and-blue strobes to wake up a neighborhood.
When I saw him returning to the car, I lowered the window again.
“Have you been drinking tonight, Mr. Holgate?”
“No. Not drinking.”
“Can you explain what you’re doing sitting here outside your residence?”
“I, um, we had an argument and I … er, I just wasn’t ready to go back inside.”
He flashed the light in my eyes again.
“I was under the impression you no longer lived here.”
Fuck. “Where would you hear that?”
“I didn’t. I figured it out myself after your wife called us to report a robbery, and I was the one who had to tell her that her husband had most likely left her.”
Double fuck. While I tried to think up a response to essentially being called a scumbag, he asked if I had any weapons.
“Why the hell—”
“Could you step out of the truck, please?”
I tossed my wallet on the seat beside me and gave one more glance at her window. She must have fallen asleep with the light on. I opened the door and slowly stepped out.
“Could you walk a straight line for me, please?”
“I told you I haven’t been drinking.” As the words left my mouth, I remembered the two beers I’d had after work. The way my luck was going, I’d fail a sobriety test on the couple of Heinekens I’d had hours ago. “Well, not really. I had a couple beers around five.” I was about to add that I’d probably pissed them out by now, but that wouldn’t have helped my case.
When the officer was convinced I wasn’t drunk or about to kick in my own back door and assault my wife, he allowed me to get back in the truck.
“Why are you parked out here?”
