She beamed. “Eric’s inside. You must be having a good time with Uncle Dave. It’s nice to see you looking relaxed and happy again.”
“Hi, Tom,” Eric said as he stepped out the door.
“Hey, Eric.” Although it never set well with him when Lindsay’s friends called him by his first name, in Eric’s case Tom preferred it to the frightening alternative dad. He turned back to Lindsay. “You take the master bedroom tonight. Eric and I will take the bunks in your room.” Tom caught the amused look that passed between Lindsay and Eric, but he felt he’d asserted his parental authority without being too uncool.
Dave spoke up, avenging the fishing bet. “In other words, you two will not get up to any hanky panky under his roof. No way, no how, never, ever, over his dead body.”
Tom flashed daggers at Dave, but he didn’t really mind the laughter at his expense. He was having a good day.
“If one of you clowns wants to get the grill going,” he said, “I’ll cook lunch.”
An hour later, stomachs full, Tom and Dave sat smoking on the screened porch. Eric and Lindsay had taken the boat out on the lake, but they hadn’t gone far because Lindsay’s laughter drifted back to them in the stillness of the afternoon.
“She laughs like her mother,” Dave said. “My God, I just flashed back to the day you met Julie. Right here. About this time of year too.” He turned to Tom, his grin wide. “I’m surprised the sound’s not still echoing.”
Tom’s brow creased. “What sound?”
“The sound of you falling. The mighty Tom, felled with one look from sweet Julie.”
Tom shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling. “I played it cool though.”
“Which was a good thing; she couldn’t have handled the full T. J. whammy.”
“Damn right.” They laughed together. Tom grew silent remembering. Knowing Julie was out of his league, he’d taken a risk that day and made a play for her anyway. But to his surprise she didn’t reject him. Until now. “Jeezus. Julie’s going to divorce me.”
“What she said and what she does could well be two different things. To me, that phone call seems so out of character for Julie, I have a hard time believing it was her idea.”
Tom lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of his last. “No one held a gun to her head.”
“I’m just saying, I think she’s being influenced. She’s with that overbearing friend of hers, right?”
“Patricia.” And Eddie.
“I only met the woman that one time, but something about her didn’t sit right with me. Seemed like she was hiding something.”
“Well, she’s not hiding anything when it comes to her dislike of me. That’s out in the open.”
“Then Patricia’s ignorant. What does Julie see in her?”
“Well, not to put a guilt trip on you, but Becky was Julie’s closest friend, and when you guys moved away, she was lonely. She hired Patricia to help her decorate the house and sort of latched on to her … or vice versa. Then they started working together, and now Julie’s decided she wants to sell real estate, so Patricia’s been helping her study for the exam.”
“That’s too bad.” Dave was quiet for a minute. “You know, there’s plenty of work for contractors in Florida. Real estate agents too.”
“And people in Indiana also have heart problems.”
“Well … maybe when Becky’s parents are gone.”
That lump was forming in his throat again. He put a hand over his eyes and swallowed hard, but the tears came anyway. Dave sat in silence until Tom got himself back under control.
“Tell me the truth, Tom. Are you sleeping with Annie?”
“I swear to God, no.”
“Did you?”
“No. Never. We talked a lot. I had dinner with her and breakfast once. We … I kissed her. Twice.”
“Kissed. That’s all?”
Tom kept his eyes on the lake. “That’s not all I thought about doing.”
“Yeah, well, that’s no reason for her to divorce you. I’d bet money Julie’s had those same thoughts about at least one man in the last twenty-three years. So here’s the plan—when she gets home, you confess your sins of kissing and talking and eating with the other woman and ask for Julie’s forgiveness. Then you keep on talking until you fall in love with each other again. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He’d do his best to follow Dave’s plan, but he had doubts. He’d told Dave the truth as far as he knew. There was still the matter of those blackouts and what he might have done during those hours he couldn’t remember.
*
As they stepped from the elevator, Eddie announced, “I’ve ordered brandy and coffee for us all.”
Julie held back a sigh. She’d been drowsy all day and would have preferred getting to bed early, but she followed Eddie and Patricia toward his suite. Room service arrived a moment after Julie slipped off her shoes and curled in a corner of the sofa. Patricia sat in an armchair smiling at Julie between sips of her coffee.
“You were so quiet today, Julie,” Eddie said. “I thought you might want to sit and talk tonight.” He crossed the room to the desk.
“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied. “But I haven’t had time to think anything through since we’ve been here.”
Eddie, holding a small envelope in one hand and his brandy in the other, settled beside her on the sofa. “You may not agree, Julie, but I’ve always felt that my second thoughts were never as clear as my first ones.”
“I have been having second thoughts … about the divorce.”
“Yes,” he said, “I thought you might.”
“I mean, after twenty-three—”
“After twenty-three years you deserve better than having to see these.” Eddie lifted the flap of the envelope, withdrew several photos, and handed them to her.
Julie’s heart sped up even before she glanced at the photos. By the time she comprehended what she was seeing, her body was shaking in time to that rapid beat and a low moan was rising from her throat. A song of pain. Tom. Another woman. The photos showed the woman with her legs wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back. Slut. The heat of Julie’s anger set her face ablaze.
She jumped to her feet, clutching the photos in a hand held out to Patricia, to Eddie. “Look at them! Just look at them!”
Her vision distorted with tears, she stumbled to the door.
*
Tom answered the cabin phone on the second ring.
“You son of a bitch!” yelled Julie. “You make me sick. I didn’t want to believe it was you.”
“What—”
“I saw the photos, Tom, but I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right there in public … where anyone could see you. Oh, God.”
Julie’s voice shook and it took him a few seconds to make out her words, but he felt the impact of them immediately. She knows everything. He felt as if every organ, every muscle, every bit of everything inside him was suddenly free-floating. He had no weight, no substance. Julie had cut him loose—and he was the one who’d handed her the knife.
“What pictures?”
“The ones of you and her. On the hood of my car. My car.” She broke down.
Her sobs wounded him far worse than her words had. He’d answered the wall phone in the kitchen. Now he turned his back to the table where he, Dave, Lindsay, and Eric had been playing poker and pressed his forehead against the wall. Abracadabra. One of his blackouts dissolved. Behind closed eyes, he saw it all, remembered it all. He and Annie in the parking lot of the Coach House. Oh, God. He couldn’t deny what those photos revealed. He had no defense against the truth. There was no need for more questions. He didn’t need to ask who had shown her the photos. Good old Eddie had turned out to be lousy at secret keeping, but good at picture taking.
“Julie, please, I don’t know—”
She shrieked. “You’re going to be one sorry son of a bitch.”
When the dial tone assaulted his ear, his lighter-than-air body slam
med down to earth, weighing tons. Numb, he hung up the phone.
“Why didn’t you let me talk to Mom?” Lindsay asked.
Humiliation had tattooed his neck and face red. How could he turn and face his daughter? “She just called to check in. They were on their way out somewhere.” He took two deep breaths, and the heat from his face diminished enough to risk facing her. “You can call her tomorrow.” He caught Dave’s eye, silently pleading for help.
“I’m starved,” Dave said. “Lindsay, why don’t you and Eric go over to the marina and pick us up a pizza?”
“It’s after eleven!” she said.
“They’re open till two,” Dave countered, never breaking eye contact with Tom.
Lindsay hesitated, but Eric evidently caught the drift. He jumped up and pulled Lindsay from her chair. “Large deluxe with extra cheese okay?”
“Sure,” Dave said.
Tom didn’t speak until Eric’s car pulled away from the cabin. “Julie knows.”
Dave got up to search in the cabinets. “Don’t you have anything stronger than beer?”
“I don’t want any—”
“You need it.” Dave pulled a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet over the refrigerator and nearly filled a juice glass. “Here, drink this.”
Tom tipped the glass to his lips, but he seemed to have forgotten the art of swallowing. Two rivulets of whiskey dribbled down his chin. He didn’t bother to wipe them off.
“How does Julie know?”
“Pictures.”
“You have pictures of Annie and Julie found them?”
“No.”
“Talk to me, Tom. Who the hell has pictures of who?”
“Eddie. The blackouts. Eddie has pictures of Annie and me. In the parking lot. I blacked it out. He showed them to Julie.”
“Who the fuck is Eddie?”
The question hit Tom like ice water poured down his back. He could barely mouth a response. “I’m not sure I know.”
*
Her fury spent, Julie dropped her phone on top of the photos and collapsed on her bed. She gave way to body-wracking sobs. She wanted to scream and never stop. Her life had shattered into a million shards, each one piercing her heart. She wanted to go home. She wanted Lindsay. She wanted to be alone.
“Please, don’t cry, Julie.” Patricia knelt on the floor beside the bed, smoothing Julie’s hair. “This is for the best. You’ll see. Would you like a drink? That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Julie didn’t reply, but Patricia got up to pour a brandy for each of them.
When Julie waved hers away, Patricia set it on the table next to her and walked around to the other side of the bed. She settled next to Julie, and went on talking calmly. “You’ll move in with me when we get home. Of course, we’ll tell Tom to move out of the house, but until he does you’ll stay with me.”
Despite the jumble of thoughts in Julie’s mind, Patricia words filtered through to her and forced back the tears as she tried to make sense of them. Julie pushed herself upright, sat back against the headboard, and reached for the brandy.
“Getting through this mess with Tom will be hell for you, sweetie, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. It kills me to see him hurt you. I love you so much, Julie.”
Julie turned her head to say she appreciated the sympathy and was startled to see Patricia leaning toward her. Before Julie could react, Patricia pulled her closer and kissed her passionately.
Instinctively, Julie shoved her backwards, spilling brandy on them both. “Oh, God … what are you do—” Julie jumped off the bed and spun to face Patricia. “Oh, my God. What the hell were you doing?”
“I don’t understa—”
“You don’t understand!” Julie was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Keeping Patricia in sight, she staggered backwards to a chair. “I never—ever—gave you any reason to think we were more than friends.”
“But Eddie said—”
“Eddie!” Julie shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell does Eddie have to do with this? He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, for God’s sake.”
“No.” Patricia frowned. “No, he’s—”
“He’s what?”
Patricia started toward Julie, arms outstretched, wailing. “But you love me. Eddie said you love me.”
“No.” Julie stood and moved behind the chair. “This is crazy. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. Oh, God. I can’t deal with any more shit tonight.” She gestured toward the closet. “Get your things out of my room, Patricia. Just leave me the hell alone.”
*
For over an hour, Tom lay awake listening to Eric’s and Max’s snoring with Dave chiming in from the next room, but the racket couldn’t drown out the continual replay of his conversation with Julie. The blackout curtain had remained lifted. Julie had photos of him with Annie, so she knew he’d gone far beyond a couple of kisses. Under the influence of Jacob or not didn’t matter. He deserved everything Julie threw at him. He deserved nothing good. He buried his head in the pillow and cried for all the love he’d thrown away.
When the phone rang, he was finally in a state of half-sleep, and he responded automatically, reaching out for the bedside table before he realized he was grasping only air. He sat up, cracking his head on the underside of the top bunk. “Ow, goddammit.” He grabbed his jeans from the floor and ran toward the kitchen phone.
He picked it up, but before he could say anything, he heard crying. “Julie. Is that you?”
“I … I need to talk to someone.”
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t … yes, I’m all right, but … Patricia told me she loves me.”
“Oh, Julie, Patricia is the last thing we should be talk—”
“No, Tom. Patricia is in love with me.” Julie paused as if waiting for some reaction, but he only stood on the cold wooden floor of the cabin with his mouth hanging open.
“She made a pass at me.” Julie’s voice wavered on the last words, but she didn’t break down again. “She kissed me on the mouth.”
Frantically, Tom weighed the importance of this turn of events against all he wanted to say to Julie. “Babe, I know that upset you, and I want to listen to whatever you need to tell me. So why don’t you just come home?”
“The situation’s too awkward here now, so I was planning to come home tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s great. The sooner the better.”
Julie was so quiet, he thought they’d lost the connection. Then she sobbed.
“I’m so confused,” she said. “I don’t want a divorce. I don’t know why I said I did. I’d changed my mind, I was going to call you and tell you, but then Eddie had those photos and—”
“I love you, Julie. I truly do. I know you probably can’t believe that, right now, but—”
She broke down again, but Tom was able to make out her response—“I love you too.”
He didn’t realize he was still in his underwear until he hung up the phone. As he pulled on his jeans, Julie’s coming home was all he could think. It was all that mattered.
*
Julie clicked off from Tom and called down to the concierge. “Could you please let me know what flights are available to Indianapolis tomorrow?”
“Oh, of course, Mrs. Cogan, but … well, when Mr. Bond changed his flight he indicated you would be staying a few more days.”
“He’s leaving early?”
“Actually, he’s already left. I’ll check on tomorrow’s flight schedule and call you right back.”
Had Eddie left the hotel immediately after she’d left his room? Before Patricia had … had … and now he’d left her and Patricia here alone. So it was true. He had given Patricia the impression that her attentions would be welcomed.
Why?
Why had Eddie persuaded her to come on this trip? Why had he convinced her to tell Tom she wanted a divorce? Why had he shown her those horrible photos? Was it all in a misguided belief that she and Patricia belonged together?
Julie took her bags from the closet and started gathering her things, leaving any that Patricia had left behind. The photos lay scattered on the nightstand, where she’d thrown them during her raging call to Tom. Before she left, she would tear them into unrecognizable bits, though the housekeeping staff wouldn’t recognize the people … the couple …
No. Don’t go there again.
Looking straight ahead and feeling with her hands, Julie gathered up the Polaroids. Polaroids? She jumped when the phone rang. The concierge gave her the flight times, and she told him the last morning one would probably be best. Maybe she could manage a few hours sleep before she checked out. Absently, she glanced down at what she held in her hand. She looked. She saw. She saw a house. And another. She flipped through them one by one. All houses.
No Tom. No woman.
“Mrs. Cogan?” the concierge said. “Are you there?”
“Yes.” Her lips felt numb.
“Do you want me to book you a seat on the ten o’clock flight, then?”
“No … when is the earliest one?”
“Six twenty-five.”
“That one,” she said. “I’ll take that one.”
She’d lost all hope for sleep. There were too many thoughts screaming at her. Photos can’t change. She shuffled through them again and recognized properties Patricia had sold. Where were the images she’d seen when Eddie handed them to her? Now, she felt numb all over. She was afraid. Frankly, she was terrified.
But of what?
*
Now wide awake, Tom stepped out to the porch for a smoke. The sky had clouded over; leaving only a trace of light from the full moon. Max was a darker blob against the darkness of the woods as he edged along them. Lindsay’s bare feet on the hickory floor made no sound as she walked through the cabin toward him.
“Dad?”
Startled, he spun toward her silhouette in the doorway. “What are you doing up, baby girl?”
“The phone.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to get to it as soon as I could.”
“I picked it up … at the same time you did.”
No. What had she heard?
“I know I should have hung up … I’m sorry … but—” She rushed toward him. Hugging him around the waist like a child, she buried her head against his chest. “Oh Daddy, I thought … I thought that’s why Mom left. I thought she was going off with Patricia.”
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