by Mary Alfort
“I guess not. No chance of fixing it?”
I could say ‘yes’ and save face, but what would be the point? Tom and I were so over they needed a new word for it. “No. It’s over. The divorce will be final very soon. He doesn’t want me or our child, and he’s now engaged to his secretary. I’d say that’s a good indication there’s no fixing it.”
“I’d say you’re probably right. I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
I nodded, and an oddly companionable silence fell between us.
“When did life get so confusing?” he asked after a while and I smiled. It felt as if we’d known each other for years.
“I wish I knew. I’m sorry about your wife. How long ago did she pass?”
“A little over a year,” he answered with a touch of sadness. “Breast cancer. Pathetic, isn’t it? A physician who can’t save his own wife.”
I reached out to squeeze his hand, my fingers lingering there. “No, I’d say that makes you human. Still, it must have been tough.”
Jake’s eyes had a distant look in them, as if he was remembering the time vividly. “It was. For the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on. At times, just leaving the house seemed impossible.”
I thought about my own meltdown reaction to Tom leaving me. In a way, it had felt as though I’d gone through a death. The death of our marriage. “I can understand that. When Tom asked for a divorce, I think I went a little crazy there for a while.”
Jake didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised by my admission. “I’d say it comes with the territory. Sometimes there’s nothing like a good mental breakdown to get you back on track.”
I really liked his smile. “So, can I ask you a question? And please be honest with me.” I waited until he’d silently agreed before asking. “How many times have my aunts broken into your house?”
He took his time in answering. “Are you sure you want to know?”
I closed my eyes and feared the worst. “Yes, I think I need to.”
“Six, counting the last time with you.”
“Oh, no.” I covered my eyes with my hands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do. Selma has always been a little... wild, but since I came back home, she’s taken it to the extreme.”
He flashed me another of those award-winning smiles. “I think she’s just frustrated about getting older and trying to shake things up a little. Selma’s harmless. Don’t worry about her. As I said, I kind of enjoy her escapades.”
Jake and I ended up spending several hours talking back and forth that way. Joking, and sometimes sharing serious moments. We’d probably have been there even longer if he hadn’t been paged back to the office for his next appointment, which apparently he was late for already.
“A few more minutes won’t matter. Let me walk you to your car.”
I didn’t argue with him. I’d actually found myself enjoying the time we’d spent together. I hit the remote keypad and unlocked the door before turning to him. “I’ll talk to Thelma. Somehow, I’ll convince her to come in.”
He surprised the heck out of me by taking my hand. “Laney, look. I don’t believe in playing games, and I’m certainly not good at flirting, so I’ll just be straight with you. I’ve enjoyed our chat today. I’d like to see you again. But you’ve just ended a marriage, and I understand how hard that must be for you. So you’ll have to tell me if I have a chance or if you want me to get lost. I know we’ll have to wait until your divorce is final, but I don’t want to walk away from a potentially good thing, so I’m coming out with it now. But I’m terrible at reading minds, so I need you to tell me what you want.”
I was literally shaking. I was about to cry and I couldn’t bite my cheek or clench my hands hard enough to stop the tears. I tried to turn away, to open my car door and simply leave him, but he stopped me.
“Hey, it’s OK.” He started to pull me in for a hug, and everything about him felt foreign to me. So unlike the familiar arms of the man who’d walked away from me without another thought. I couldn’t go through that again. I pushed him away. “I have to go and you have an appointment to keep.”
I didn’t say anything else and I hoped my lack of words had said enough. I hated that, but I wasn’t ready to move beyond Tom. I didn’t want to think about being alone or becoming eccentric like Selma, though. I didn’t know what to do, but what I did know was that Doctor Handsome should probably be running as fast as he could away me and my crazy family.
8
Sometimes a little breakdown can be just what the doctor ordered.
By the time I’d driven the ten-plus minutes from the medical center to the diner, I’d convinced myself I had overreacted. It wasn’t as if he’d tried to rush me; he’d made it perfectly clear that he was willing to wait…who broke down over a man wanting a date, anyway? I was just so messed up emotionally that I’d read more into his kindness than what was really there. He’d simply wanted to comfort me. Nothing more.
With this settled in my head, I was ready to face the next disaster the aunts could throw my way.
Aunt Thelma was serving up sage advice along with chicken-fried steak to a woman who embodied the stereotypical image of an old maid, right down to the graying bun on top of her head and old-lady lace-up shoes on her feet.
“Well now, hon, don’t you think that nice Mr. Blackman over at the elementary school would be perfect for you?”
The sixty-something woman sniffed in annoyance. Clearly, she had not asked for Thelma’s input along with the lunch special.
“He’s the principal, you know. I hear he makes lots of money.” Thelma pretended to refill her full water glass and took a seat across from the woman, her eyes alight with the idea of matchmaking.
“I’m aware of who he is, Ms. McClanahan.”
“Oh, now Mabelene, you can call me Thelma. Why, I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”
At this point, I think Mabelene hoped if she ignored Thelma long enough she’d simply go away. I considered rescuing the distressed Mabelene, but didn’t have the heart. Aunt Thelma was doing what she did best. She loved solving people’s problems, even when her help was not wanted. It was her gift from God.
“You know if you took off those glasses, he could see your pretty eyes—”
“Thelma McClanahan, I’m too old for courting.” Mabelene barked, but there was something in her tone—a little lifting at end of the final word that made it sound more like a question than anything else. Thelma had her interest piqued at last.
“Oh, my, no. Why, you’re just a young thing. And that nice Mr. Blackman, well, I bet he’s a few years older than you. I happen to know some things about him that might just give you an edge. But there isn’t much time, so you’ll have to act fast. The word is out. Honey, this town’s teaming with single women looking for a nice man to snap up. He won’t last long in this market.”
Mabelene leaned closer. “What sort of things...?”
I smiled, left Thelma to her matchmaking, and retreated to my office to do a little investigative work of my own. While I’d convinced myself I wasn’t even close to being interested in Jake Montgomery for anything other than a friend, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to do a little research on him. Just in case I could convince Thelma she needed a checkup.
I closed the door and then locked it guiltily before firing up my computer. When I searched on the internet for his name, I found a wealth of information at my fingertips. At the age of thirty-five, Jake was one of the top innovators in the field of geriatric medicine. He had made remarkable strides in treating patients suffering from Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia.
The next page I brought up was from the obituary section of The Boston Herald. It was simple and to the point. A little more than a year ago, Melissa Montgomery, wife of Dr. Jacob Montgomery, had succumbed to breast cancer at the age of thirty-two after a valiant struggle with the illness. She’d been buried in a family plot outside of Boston. In lieu of flower
s, the family asked for donations to a breast cancer foundation being set up in Melissa’s name.
There was a photo included, taken at a benefit. It showed Melissa and Jake smiling into the camera. Her fair beauty was the perfect complement to his dark, rugged handsomeness. They’d made a lovely couple. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for Jake to move on without her.
Reasons why I’m thankful I came home to Down:
1: To help my aunts stay out of jail.
2: To stop feeling sorry for myself.
****
The last time I went to church, I was seventeen years old and it was Easter Sunday. I finally agreed to attend a Sunday service with my aunts for reasons that escaped me. Maybe we were all feeling a little guilty about our behavior as of late, or perhaps we were just hoping for divine intervention with the Feds. As I stepped inside the church I’d practically grown up in, a familiar sense of peace I had almost forgotten existed settled around me.
Sorry it took me so long to come back to you, Lord.
I’d left Down after high school, vowing never to return for more than a visit. I’d been so sure I knew exactly what I wanted from life back then. Now I couldn’t remember any of the reasons that had made me anxious to leave.
I’d been home for only a short period of time, and I was losing pieces of my old life in Dallas. What had I found so interesting about the endless country club get-togethers? What was so great about shopping at exclusive shops? Why was it that the friends with whom I’d shared many lovely dinners hadn’t once thought to pick up the phone to see how I might be faring?
The truth was that I’d been living Tom’s life, not mine. And it was well past time I woke up, and started making decisions for myself, as I’d been taught by my aunts. I wasn’t Tom’s wife anymore, after all.
The pastor talked about God being the God of second chances. If anyone needed a second chance at life, it was me.
Thank you, Lord.
Half way through the service, I spotted Jake seated close to the front and wondered what his reasons for coming to the service today might be. Did he need a second chance? Maybe we were both broken and looking for guidance from God. I hadn’t told the aunts about my talk with Jake. I was still searching for a way to bring up the subject of setting up a doctor’s appointment.
“Well, as I live and breathe, if that ain’t Jake Montgomery. Now why do you suppose he’s come to church today for the first time? Haven’t seen him here before.” Selma nudged Thelma’s side after the service ended.
“He does seem to be a troubled soul,” Thelma added with a knowing look.
As I tried to figure out how Thelma had come up with her assessment of Jake, he made eye contact with me. He then walked over to a group of ladies, several of whom I recognized from the Tuesday Night Book Club meeting. He said something to Millie Porter, then walked away, seemingly unaware of the heated conversation going on behind his back—most of which was probably completely unfitting even for the church parking lot. He made his way towards us.
Selma and Thelma were trying to act normal.
I smiled at their conspiratorial behavior. “You know he realizes you’re all talking about him, don’t you?”
“Ladies. It’s nice to see you someplace other than my living room.” He grinned at Selma and winked at me. “Ya’ll feelin’ guilty ‘bout somethin’?” he added in his best fake Texas drawl.
I was amazed at how easily he’d figured out how to get them riled.
“Why, I don’t know what you mean, Jake Montgomery,” Thelma exclaimed in outrage.
“I’m only teasing, Ms. Thelma.” His shoulders started to shake. He was struggling to keep from laughing at my aunt’s indignant expression.
“Oh, Jake. Well, I never.” Thelma wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn’t stay angry at anyone for long. It wasn’t in her character.
“Who’s running the diner today? Don’t tell me you closed it?”
Selma gave him her best dressing down glare. “I’ll have you know, the Pine Street Diner is open seven days a week without fail. And that’s been in spite of snow, sleet, and a few boyfriends.” She turned to her sister. “Come on. Reverend Platter was ‘specially long-winded today. That girl you hired to manage the counter will have run off our entire Sunday morning breakfast crowd by the time we get there. You coming, Laney?”
“Coming, Aunt Selma.” I turned back to Jake and mouthed, “I’m sorry”. As we made our way across the graveled parking lot, I could still hear the sound of Jake’s amusement.
“That boy ain’t got no manners, if you ask me.” Selma took her usual place behind the wheel of the truck, and I braced myself for another hair-raising ride to the diner. Since I’d returned home, I had been dropping subtle hints about Selma’s dangerous driving, and had pointed out dozens of news items involving elderly people and auto accidents. So far, nothing I’d tried had gotten through to her. Selma had been driving since she was ten years old. She wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.
“Aunt Selma, Jake’s actually very nice when you’re not breaking into his house.”
She eyed me suspiciously for a moment. “You could do worse than the likes of him, I guess. Least he won’t leave you high and dry. But I’m telling you, that boy’s hiding something.”
I knew it would be pointless to argue with her that I had no intention of going down that road again for anyone. Not even Jake Montgomery.
****
“Laney, we need to talk.”
Upon hearing Tom’s voice so unexpectedly, I dropped my cell phone and fought to keep from being sick. When I could manage to speak without heaving in his ear, I responded. “About what? What do you want, Tom?”
The moment of chilly silence that met my words made Tom’s opinion of my attitude clear. “Well, you don’t have to snap my head off.”
I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Had I heard him correctly? “I beg your pardon?” At this point, I counted to twenty. “Is there a point to this call?”
The fact that I resisted the urge to bang the phone against the desk spoke volumes about my self-control. I was proud of myself. I’d grown up a little since returning home.
“Just to tell you the divorce is final.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how he’d accomplished this feat so quickly.
“I have a friend who’s a judge. He managed to expedite it.” He replied before I could ask.
I sat back in my chair and waited, expecting all sorts of emotions to follow that bombshell. I was pleasantly surprised to find the only thing I felt was hunger.
Is hunger an emotion or a feeling?
“That’s it? That’s the sole purpose behind this call?” I opened my filing cabinet and dug behind the files and stack of papers I’d purposely put there to hide my chocolate peanut butter bars from prying eyes. Why I felt the need to cover up my addiction, I didn’t know. I cracked open a new bag.
Oh, no, no, no. There has to be more to this than a simple update on our marital status.
“That, and to tell you I’ve sent the papers to you in the mail, along with something else.”
“Something else? Tom, I don’t have time for this. What do you really want?” I blew out a frustrated sigh while a loose strand of hair flew on top of my head in its wake.
“I’m sending you a document relinquishing my parental rights to the thing.”
“The thing?”
He had the nerve to refer to our child as ‘the thing’?
I think I had an out-of-body experience. I watched myself from above as I slowly lifted the phone, and then slammed it down hard against the desk. Even from my high vantage point, I could hear Tom squeal. Then I hung up on him.
Reasons why I’m thankful I came home to Down:
1: To help my aunts stay out of jail.
2: To stop feeling sorry for myself.
3: Never to have to see Tom Winters’s face again.
I actually felt
pleased with my new addition to the list until Blake Whitney knocked on my door a few hours later. When he stuck his head around the jamb and I got a good look at his grim expression, I knew Tom’s call wouldn’t be the worst of my problems.
“Got a minute?” he asked while closing the door.
Oh, no.
“Sure, have a seat.” I indicated one of the mismatched chairs in front of my desk.
“Thanks.” He made a slight production of settling his briefcase so that it didn’t tumble over before looking at me. “Laney, I wish I could say I have good news.”
Geez, I’d completely forgotten his meeting with Agent Eanes today. “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”
“You could say that. Laney, there’s a very real likelihood this case will go to trial.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, much less speak. “What? For what? Taxes? How? They can’t actually believe my aunts—”
“It’s about more than taxes. Apparently, Butch Peterson has managed to convince Agent Eanes and the DA that not only did your aunts know about his crimes, they were the ones who orchestrated the money laundering scheme. The prosecutor believes they have proof your aunts are the ones with the ties to organized crime, not Peterson.”
“That’s absolutely insane. My aunts haven’t got a clue about organized crime or any other kind of--crime.” I stumbled a little over the word as I remembered our most recent breaking-and-entering incident.
“I believe you, but they have a strong circumstantial case. I haven’t seen all the evidence yet, or the videos of their interviews with Peterson. They are obligated to disclose every piece of evidence they have, so I should know something more in a few days.”
How on earth would I tell the aunts this bit of news?
Blake got to his feet and retrieved his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch soon, but until then, I don’t have to tell you, they need to keep their noses clean.” He threw me a look that had me wondering how much he might have heard about my aunts’ recent antics.
9
You never know what you can do until you realize what you can’t.
