Her Sister's Shoes

by Ashley Farley

  He lifted his head and stared at her, his mouth agape. “You mean, you knew?”

  She sat up tall and smiled smugly. “Of course I know about your little mistress, you bastard. I saw the two of you cuddled up together in the back corner of the Inlet Coffee Shop. You really should be more discreet. I’d hate for your sons to see you parading your mistress around town.”

  He furrowed his brow.

  “You haven’t thought about that, have you?”

  “Of course I have. That’s why I decided to go up to the mountains early, so I can tell them at dinner Friday night.”

  “Liar. You are too much of a coward to tell the boys. You will save that unpleasant task for me.”

  “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

  “Better than you know yourself.”

  “That’s just it, Jackie. You don’t really know me at all. You see the bad. It’s almost like you expect it. But you never acknowledge the good.”

  A part of her knew he was right. When had she started jumping to the wrong conclusion without giving him the benefit of the doubt?

  Around the time he started disappointing her on a regular basis with his broken promises.

  “You are having an affair with another woman, Bill,” she said softly. “Where’s the good in that?”

  “I’ve been a good provider and a good father, and you know it.” He slumped back against the bench.

  “Maybe in the past, but you blew it this time.”

  They sat in silence for a minute. “I suggest we see how the separation goes before we tell the boys,” he said.

  “This woman, your mistress, is a person, Bill, not a new suit. You can’t just try her on for size, then come running back to me when she doesn’t fit into your life.”

  “That’s not at all what I’m suggesting.”

  “Then what are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting we wait until the boys get home. What’s the point in ruining their time at camp? This is about so much more than my affair with Daisy.”

  “Daisy? You’re having an affair with a woman named Daisy?”

  “Her name is Daisy Calhoun. But that’s really beside the point. As I was saying … our problems started long before my affair. I just need a little time to figure a few things out.”

  She sprang to her feet. “Here’s a news flash for you, Bill. I have no intention of sitting around here, waiting for you while you’re off playing doctor with your nurse.”

  “Can’t you at least give me a little time, after all I’ve given you?” He stood up and faced the house, his arms spread wide. “I just want to feel like me again.”

  Placing both hands on his chest, Jackie pushed him back down to the bench and leaned over him, exposing a good portion of her creamy bosom. She grabbed his necktie and twisted it around her hand. “Listen, Bill, and listen good. You are a grown man, not a college kid asking his parents to send him to Europe for the summer to find himself. I will not grant you a trial separation. You made a vow. ‘Till death do us part.’ You broke that promise, and now you will pay. First thing tomorrow morning, after you leave for the mountains with the boys, I plan to call my attorney and file for divorce. Do you understand?”

  He held both hands up. “I get it.”

  She loosened her grip, smoothed out the tie, and pinched his cheek. “Good.”

  He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her close to him, his lips on hers. “I miss that spunk. Why have you been hiding it from me for all these years?”

  She wanted to smack the dimples right off his handsome face. What a fool she’d been, falling for the man because of his good looks. She slapped his hand away, then turned and sauntered up the dock. When she felt his eyes on her backside, she winked at him over her shoulder. “You’re missing out on a whole lot more than spunk.”

  Eight

  Samantha

  Sam hadn’t planned to spend the night at the hospital, but once they got her mother moved to a private room on the third floor and they were waiting for the nurse to bring her a sleeping pill, Sam had dozed off sitting straight up in the lounge chair in the corner. At some point during the night, someone had reclined her chair, stuffed a pillow under her head, and covered her with a blanket.

  If rest was such a vital component for recovery, why didn’t the doctors and nurses ever let the patient sleep?

  According to the clock, it was only half past six but the nurses at the nurses’ station across the hall were laughing and chatting about the disastrous blind date one of them had been on the night before.

  Lovie blinked open her eyes. “Morning, Mom. How do you feel?”

  “Groggy.” Her mother closed her eyes again. “I’m not used to taking sleeping pills.”

  “You had a big night. Just lie there awhile and rest,” Sam said as she tucked the covers under Lovie’s chin.

  Sam splashed water on her face at the sink in the corner and rinsed out her mouth. She raked her fingers through her hair and rummaged through her handbag for a cotton headband to tame her cowlicks. She located her cell phone, stuck between the cushions in the lounge chair. The last in a long thread of texts with Bill had come through after she’d fallen asleep. The previous texts pertained to her mom’s medical condition, but this last one, received at 2:35 a.m., regarded a different matter altogether. While the message was short, Bill’s meaning was clear. “Mission Accomplished.”

  The inconsiderate ass had ignored her advice, and so, for the rest of her life, Jackie would associate her fiftieth birthday party with the end of her marriage.

  Sam dropped the phone into her handbag and sank back down to the lounge chair. She thought about her sister waking up in an empty bed and facing the first day of the rest of her life alone. She imagined Carlotta tapping on the door, then tiptoeing in with a white wicker breakfast tray—coffee, orange juice, Greek-style blueberry yogurt, and a pink rose bud from the garden. Jackie would find Carlotta’s handwritten note announcing her resignation tucked inside the Post and Courier.

  Sam placed her hands on the wooden arms of the chair, halfway anticipating vibrations from Jackie’s fit of rage. But the chair was still, the room was silent, and even the nurses in the hall had finally stopped yapping. The longer Jackie allowed her anger to fester, the bigger the explosion would be in the end.

  A nurse scurried into the room carrying a breakfast tray. Her pink uniform matched her plump, rosy cheeks. With twinkling blue eyes and cropped gray curls, the nurse would have made a fine Mrs. Claus in Prospect’s annual Christmas parade.

  “How do you feel this morning, honey?” she asked the patient.

  “Like I’m all better, and it’s time for me to go home,” Lovie said.

  The nurse winked at Sam. “They all say that in the beginning. But once you see how much fun we’re gonna have, you’ll be begging to stay on a little while longer with Ole Pearl.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Lovie replied.

  Pearl laughed, a deep belly laugh that jiggled the skin under her neck. She raised Lovie’s bed to a sitting position, plumped her pillow, and arranged it behind her head. She moved the tray table in front of her and lifted the lid off a steaming plate of scrambled eggs. “You need to eat now, honey. They are sending a limo soon to take you down for some tests.”

  Sam contemplated the day ahead of her. She couldn’t afford to waste valuable time sitting alone in her mom’s room. “How long do you think the tests will take?” she asked Pearl.

  Pearl looked up from her clipboard. “Most of the morning, I imagine.”

  “Would it be all right if I sneak home for a shower while she’s gone?”

  “Of course. I see no reason for you to be back before noon.”

  Lovie took a bite of eggs and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Do you think you might have time to pick up a few of my things from home?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “My toothbrush and a change of clothes. I can’t very well wear my party clothes home.�
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  Sam placed her fingers to her lips, faking shock. “Are you worried your neighbors might think you spent the night with a man?”

  “Hush up, you naughty girl.” Lovie shooed her away. “Go on and leave me to finish my breakfast in peace.”

  Sam meandered through the maze of halls to the emergency room parking lot. Once home, she went straight to Jamie’s room. He was sleeping soundly, curled up in his comforter with his tower fan blowing in his face. Most days he slept until noon. The idea of him spending yet another day playing Xbox when there was so much he could do at the market frustrated her.

  She nudged him. “Wake up, Jamie.”

  One eyelid cracked. Then seeing her, he shut it tight.

  She poked him again. “Listen, Jamie. I could really use your help at the market. I’m worried we won’t be ready in time for the reopening. There are plenty of things you can do.”

  Jamie shifted to lie on his back. “Yeah, like what?”

  “Dusting and stocking the shelves for starters?”

  “No thanks.” He rolled onto his side with his back facing her.

  “Please. I’m willing to pay you overtime.”

  “Leave me alone, Mom.” He pulled the comforter over his head.

  “Fine, but if you change your mind, call me and I’ll come pick you up,” she said, closing the door behind.

  Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed and nibbling on a slice of cantaloupe, Sam located Dr. Baker’s contact info on her phone and clicked on her office number. The receptionist had just received a cancellation for the following Thursday afternoon. She made the appointment.

  Coffee mug in hand, Sam hopped in her Wranger and backed out of the driveway. It was not quite nine o’clock, which left plenty of time to grab Lovie’s things and still get some work done at the market before returning to the hospital.

  Her mom’s townhouse was a disaster, just as Faith had said. Dishes were stacked high in the sink with crumbs scattered across the counter in the kitchen. The refrigerator contained a carton of soured milk, a brick of moldy cheese, and a mass of brown hamburger meat wrapped in white butcher paper. In the large sunroom, where her mom spent most of her time, magazines and old newspapers were stacked on the floor and the surfaces of all the tables. Sam discovered several unopened bills on the desk, stamped Past Due from two and three months ago. Thumbing through one of many notepads, Sam discovered nearly every page covered in writing, lists of names and numbers of people and things, as though Lovie was struggling to remember the everyday occurrences and details of her life.

  Sam cleaned out the refrigerator, dumped the old periodicals into trash bags, and organized her mom’s clothes. She packed her mother’s clothes and toiletries in a small rolling suitcase she found in the closet. Satisfied that everything was at least cleaner than when she’d found it, she tossed the suitcase and six black trash bags into the back of her Jeep and headed for the market with an hour and a half to spare before she was due back at the hospital.

  Faith was behind the market, sorting through the contents of the POD storage container they had rented, when Sam pulled up beside the construction dumpster and began unloading the trash from Lovie’s.

  “What’s in all the bags?” Faith called across the parking lot.

  “Trash. From Mom’s townhouse.” Sam hurled the last bag into the dumpster and joined her sister at the POD. “You were right. The place was a disaster.” Sam noticed Bitsy for the first time, sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes of grits and cocktail sauce and seafood breader mix. “What’s going on, Bits? Did your Mama put you to work?”

  Bitsy bit her lip and ducked behind Faith’s legs.

  “I hope you don’t mind her being here,” Faith said.

  “Not at all. We need all the help we can get.” Sam fished two dollars out of her pocket and bent down eye level with her niece. She handed Bitsy the money. “Put this in your piggy bank, okay?”

  Bitsy flashed her aunt a snaggletoothed grin.

  Sam straightened. “Something’s definitely not right with Mom. After what I discovered in her townhouse, I’m going to insist she stay with me for a while. At least until we can get a handle on what’s going on inside her brain.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Where’s Curtis?” Sam asked.

  “Inside, unpacking boxes. You might want to make sure he’s putting everything where you want it.”

  Sam stacked several boxes on a dolly and wheeled it over to the back entrance to the market. The painters had nearly finished in the showroom, and she was thrilled with the effect of the linen-colored walls. Soft and warm, clean and subtle. Not dramatic, just the right amount of contrast against the white trim. She imagined their new logo on the empty wall above the wine section—the seaweed-green interlocking Ss.

  The paint foreman waved to Sam. “What you think, Miss Sam? It’s pretty, yes?” Lou bobbed his head enthusiastically. Although he’d come to the United States from Mexico ten years ago, his English was still broken.

  She gave him a thumbs-up. “It’s perfect, Lou.”

  He beamed. “You lucky. Looks like we’ll only need one coat.”

  Sam caught a whiff of alcohol and realized the smell was coming from Curtis, who was unpacking boxes as fast as he could, slamming items around, and arranging them in a haphazard fashion on the metal shelves behind her.

  “Hey, take it easy there, Curtis.” She took a jar of tartar sauce out of his hand and placed it gently on the shelf. “You might chip the glass.” She noticed his chest, bare and glistening with perspiration. Spotting his T-shirt draped on top of one of the boxes, she threw it to him. “The health department requires all workers be fully clothed when handling food.”

  He struggled into his T-shirt. “This ain’t the kind of food they mean, but whatever.”

  Sam ran her finger along the edge of the metal shelf. “Did you think to wipe the shelves down before you loaded them up?”

  His angry eyes bore a hole through her. “Faith didn’t say nothing ’bout cleaning no shelves!”

  “There’s a layer of construction dust on everything.” She held up her dirty finger as evidence. “The whole showroom needs to be cleaned.”

  Curtis swept his arm across the shelf, sending several packages of stone-ground grits into the box on the ground. He got in Sam’s face. “What’re you gonna do about that, Sexy Sammie?”

  She smelled his sour breath. Whether he was hungover or not, she needed his help. “I’m going to let the cleaning service dust the shelves when they get here. In the meantime, there’s plenty for you to do in the kitchen. Come on, I’ll get you started.”

  Once the two of them were alone in the kitchen, Curtis turned on her. “I don’t appreciate you dissing me in front of them Mexicans.” He grabbed Sam’s wrist and twisted it behind her.

  “I wasn’t dissing you, Curtis, and you know it.” She took a deep breath and counted to ten, reminding herself to be patient. “Look, this is my fault. I should have given Faith some instructions. Let’s just put our feelings aside and get back to work?”

  “Feelings?” He released her arm and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “So you’re finally ready to admit you have feelings for me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Curtis.”

  When she turned her back on him and started to walk away, he forced himself on her, pinning her from behind against the stainless steel counter. “Admit it. You’ve always been jealous that I married your sister instead of you.”

  The bulge of his erection against her backside sent chills down her spine. She elbowed him in the gut and snatched a butcher knife from the wooden block on the counter. She turned on him, pointing the knife at his chin. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll slice your nuts off and feed them to the crabs.” She raised the knife so the tip was touching his skin. “And just so we’re clear. The only thing I’ve ever felt for you was pity.”

  On a bitterly cold Christmas
Eve in 1997, the Sweeney family gathered around the mahogany table in their tiny dining room to celebrate the holiday and the recent engagement of their youngest member.

  “I’d like to propose a toast to my baby girl.” Oscar Sweeney raised his glass of champagne to his youngest daughter.

  Lovie clinked her glass against Faith’s. “May all your days be merry and bright.”

  Oscar turned to his soon-to-be son-in-law. “As for you, Curtis, if you hurt a hair on my daughter’s head, you’ll have to answer to me.”

  Everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except Curtis. Oscar’s size alone was enough to scare all the young men in town. His reputation as the sharpest shooter in the eastern part of the state only terrified them more.

  “Yes, sir!” Curtis downed his champagne in one gulp. “As long as she promises to obey me.” His comment fell short of funny.

  Oscar’s lips formed a tight smile. “Marriage is a two-way street, my young friend. It would benefit you to remember that.”

  “How’d he pop the question?” Sam asked Faith, hoping to break the tension at the table.

  Faith stared dreamily at her small diamond engagement ring. “He took me out to dinner to our favorite restaurant.”

  “Dinner out at a special place is always a good choice,” Bill said.

  “Even if that special place is the Pelican’s Roost,” Jackie added, her lip curled up in disgust.

  Bill reached for his wife’s glass. “I think you’ve had enough of that. Alcohol isn’t good for the babies.”

  Jackie grabbed the glass back. “A little bit isn’t going to hurt them. It might even calm them down enough for me to get some sleep.”

  “Hang in there.” Bill rubbed her swollen tummy. “Not too much longer.”

  Jackie brushed his hand away. “Easy for you to say. I have to listen to you snoring peacefully night after night while I flop around like a beached whale hoping for just a few minutes of sleep.”