“You sure you’ll be back in time?”
“Absolutely. I’m coming home Thursday.”
“Okay,” she said dubiously.
“I’ll be there,” he assured her.
* * *
It was three in the afternoon on Thursday and Adam was zipping down the freeway when his trusty company car decided it no longer wanted to be trustworthy. He limped off the freeway to the nearest auto repair shop.
“Well, good news,” said the head mechanic after keeping Adam waiting an hour. “It’s only a fan belt.”
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “Great.” It shouldn’t take long to put in a fan belt. He could probably be on the road in an hour.
“We don’t have that particular belt in stock so we’ll have to order it.”
What was with his life lately? Had some gremlin put a kick-me sign on his butt? “How long will that take?”
“I’ll order it now. We’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”
If they got going first thing in the morning and were done by nine he’d still be okay. He’d drive like a madman and make it back to Icicle Falls by six-thirty, with a half hour to spare. “How long will it take to fix?”
The mechanic shrugged. “An hour or so. Part should be here by ten. We’ll have you on the road by eleven.”
Eleven? “That’s too late. I’ve got to get home to Washington. My wife—”
The mechanic, a middle-aged family man type, pointed a finger at him and completed his sentence before he could. “Is having a baby. Right? Due any day?”
“Well, no.”
The guy looked disappointed. “So she’s...sick?”
“Uh, no. But we’ve got an important dinner.”
“Oh, your anniversary.”
That sounded better than a let-me-come-back-home dinner so Adam said, “Yeah. And it’s really important I be there.”
The mechanic was now the picture of a man ready to bust his hump to help another man stay out of trouble with his wife. “I hear you.”
“So can you get me on the road any sooner?”
The mechanic shook his head sadly. “Afraid not. You’d better change your plans to Saturday.”
Okay, they could go out Saturday. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the car had crapped out.
“Meanwhile, we can give you a loaner,” said the mechanic. “There’s a nice Best Western just down the road.”
Adam got his loaner car, checked into a motel room and then made the dreaded call to his wife.
“Why are you calling?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because I...” She’s not gonna believe you. Lie! “I couldn’t get a reservation for Friday.”
“Really?” she said, a world of scorn in her voice. “I wonder if you’re having trouble getting a reservation because Friday is poker night.”
“What? No! No, that’s not it.”
“You can always get a reservation for a Friday when you call a couple of days ahead.”
“Well, I couldn’t this time,” Adam insisted.
“Adam, you’re lying. I can tell.”
“I’m not lying,” he lied.
She ended the call, leaving him talking to the dial tone.
He was going to have to tell her the truth, fantastical as it sounded. He called her again.
“What?” she snapped.
“You’re right, I was lying. But I was lying because if I tell you the truth you’ll think I made it up.”
“Try me.”
“I’m stuck in Idaho. My car died and I need a new fan belt. They can’t get the part until tomorrow and God knows when they’ll get the car fixed.”
“You could’ve told me that in the first place,” she said. “I’d have believed you.”
Just like she had when he was stuck in traffic.
“I always know when you’re inventing stuff.”
No, she didn’t. In the past he’d told some fibs and sweet-talked his way out of trouble more than once. He decided to not to argue the point.
“I’ll make it up to you on Saturday,” he said. “Seven o’clock.”
“Okay.” But her tone of voice added, “And you’d better not screw up.”
* * *
“Where’s Adam?” asked Kyle as the men settled around Jonathan’s table with their cards and their snacks.
“On his way home from Idaho,” Jonathan said. “His car crapped out.”
“First his wife, now his car. He’s sure having bad luck lately,” Kyle said.
“When it comes to women, there is no such thing as bad luck, my friend,” Bernardo informed him. “You either put in the work and are rewarded or you don’t and you lose.”
“Not buying that theory,” Vance said as he dealt the cards. “Sometimes bad luck comes in like Godzilla and stomps everything to shit.”
What had happened, Jonathan wondered, to make him such a cynic? He suspected Vance had a story to tell but he didn’t ask. Unlike his sister, he didn’t believe in butting into somebody else’s business. If Vance wanted them to know about his love life, he’d say something.
“I agree with Vance,” Kyle said as he anted up. “Here I thought I was going to Jillian’s, and it turns out that dinner invite was from...another woman.” He frowned. “Sometimes a man hasn’t done anything wrong but he still loses.”
“You don’t think chasing after the wrong woman is doing something wrong?” Bernardo countered.
Kyle frowned. “What are you saying?”
“He’s saying maybe you’re fishing in the wrong stream,” Vance explained.
“You know,” Bernardo said, “before I met my Anna, there was this girl. Whoo, man, she was muy caliente. I was so sure I was in love with her.”
“Yeah? What happened?” Kyle asked, throwing in a poker chip.
Bernardo shrugged. “She liked my best friend more.”
I feel your pain, Jonathan thought.
“Why didn’t you get in there and fight and take her away?” Kyle asked.
“That is a fight you think I would have won?” Bernardo sounded incredulous. “No, when a woman is determined on a man, that is the man she gets.”
“Well, that stinks,” Kyle said, and scowled at the cards in his hand.
“Oh, at the time, sí, it does. But things have a way of working out. You let go of that one and someone even better comes along. A year later I met my Anna and she was perfect for me.”
“And what about the other woman?” Kyle asked, throwing in a blue chip. “What happened to her?”
“She married my friend. They had six girls. Oh, that house, every day there is drama. And my poor old friend, he is always in trouble. No, I am happy with the woman I got and I’m glad things didn’t work out the way I wanted. It would have been me being nagged and yelled at because I wasn’t making enough money. So, you see, when it comes to women, there is no such thing as bad luck,” Bernardo concluded.
Jonathan and Kyle chuckled. Vance, however, didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he threw in two blue chips. “I’ll raise that by four bits.”
What had happened to Vance to make him so bitter? Whatever it was, Jonathan hoped it wasn’t contagious.
“Well, I’m gonna create my own good luck,” Kyle said. Then he frowned. “There must be some way I can get Jillian’s attention.”
“Read Wooing Willow when Adam’s done with it,” Bernardo suggested.
“I don’t have time to wait for Adam to be done with it.”
“Then buy the damn book,” Vance said. Everyone folded and the pot was his. “You all are such a bunch of cheapskates,” he muttered as he raked in the chips.
“I’m not,” Jonathan protested. “I’ve spent a fortune on books.”
“Good man,” Vance approved. “You’re helping some hard-working writer pay her bills.”
Jonathan had never thought about whoever wrote those books needing to earn a living. He’d been more concerned with learning something. Now he was glad he’d laid down some hard-earned m
oney for the latest novels he’d been consuming.
“Hey, I’ve been buying books, too,” Kyle said. He shook his head. “I don’t know how the men in those stories think up all those cool things to say.”
“That’s easy,” Jonathan said. “They’re written by women, who put the words in their mouths.”
“How do you learn that stuff?” Kyle asked. “I mean, I’m reading it but I haven’t got a clue about applying it. How do you know what to say to get a woman to fall for you? There oughta be an app.”
Jonathan grabbed his smartphone. “Let’s ask Ida.”
“Who’s Ida?” Bernardo asked.
“Not a who, a what,” Jonathan told him. “It stands for Instant Data Acquired. It’s an app, a quick reference. You ask Ida a question, she finds the answer.”
Bernardo whistled in admiration. “No kidding,” he said.
“You can ask it anything from ‘Who was the fourteenth president of the United States?’ to ‘Where can I hide a body?’” Jonathan continued.
“You’ll have better luck asking it where to hide a body,” Vance said.
Jonathan brought up the app, held the phone to his face and asked, “What do women want to hear?”
“May as well use a Ouija board,” Vance continued.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that,” said a female voice, making Bernardo laugh.
“That’s because it’s impossible,” Kyle grumbled.
“Stick with the books,” Bernardo advised as Kyle dealt the cards for the next hand. “And then practice what you read,” he added, dredging a potato chip through the onion dip. His platter of veggies sat on Jonathan’s counter, completely ignored.
“That’s great advice, except I don’t have anyone to practice on,” Jonathan complained.
“Adam’s still here. Practice on him,” Bernardo said.
“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said in disgust. He was already dancing with his sister. That was as far as he was willing to go.
“Look,” said Vance, “pick out some good lines the heroes say in those books and then memorize them.”
Jonathan thought of the line he’d written down. Okay, he was on the right track.
“A lot of those are one-size-fits-all,” Vance went on. “You can use ’em anywhere.”
Jonathan remembered a line he’d read earlier. You’re my very breath. My every heartbeat whispers your name. That pretty well summed up the way he felt about Lissa. He’d tried to move on, get a life. After all, he wanted a family, wanted someone he could spend the rest of his life with. The problem was, there was no one else like Lissa.
It had been hard to see her dating other guys over the years, but he’d known he wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe, if he was lucky, by the time he was done getting buff and becoming a real-life hero, he would be. He sure hoped so.
“Hey, are you in or out?”
Vance’s irritated voice brought Jonathan back to the game. So far he’d lost ten bucks. He figured he’d lose more before the evening was over. It wasn’t easy to outbluff Vance.
They were halfway through the night when Adam finally rolled in. “Want us to deal you in?” Kyle asked.
“The way my luck’s been running?”
“Deal him in,” Vance said with a grin.
Adam grabbed a beer and pulled up a chair. “So, what’s happening?”
“Vance is skinning us,” Kyle said.
“What else is new?”
“Nothing new with you, I guess. You’re still here,” Vance said.
“Did you read that book?” Bernardo asked.
“Yeah, I did. And Chelsea and I are going out tomorrow.”
This was encouraging news. For both Adam and Jonathan. “That’s cool,” Jonathan said.
Adam nodded. “I just hope she takes me back.”
So did Jonathan.
* * *
Saturday night Adam showered, shaved and doused himself with cologne, then went to pick up Chelsea. It felt weird to be walking up his own front walk as a suitor instead of a husband. He felt stupid ringing the doorbell rather than just walking in. He reminded himself that he had to earn the right to walk back in.
The door opened and there stood his wife, looking tantalizingly beautiful in a blue sundress and heels. Her hair, which she often wore pinned up when she was at work or out in the yard gardening, was down. The way he liked it. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he didn’t. That was another right he was going to have to earn back.
“You look good, Chels,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said primly. No smile.
It was going to be a long, uphill battle. He stood aside and let her pass, then watched the sway of her hips as she walked to the car. His wife had the cutest butt in the world.
“Hi, Dennis,” she called.
The predator next door was sitting on his front porch, reading a book. Probably for cover so he could watch Chelsea, too. Adam frowned as he opened the car door for her. “I don’t like that guy,” he muttered.
“He’s perfectly nice,” she said.
Yeah, he was being perfectly nice for a reason. The same reason Adam was on his best behavior. He walked around and got behind the wheel. “You know, he can’t be all that perfect. He’s divorced.”
“His wife left him,” Chelsea said.
“Well, that proves it. There must’ve been a reason.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when Adam realized he’d said the wrong thing. Next to him, Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “I know you had good reason to kick me out,” he said.
“I did.” She said it defensively, almost as if she was trying to convince both him and herself that she’d done the right thing.
Well, maybe she had. Maybe he’d needed a major wake-up call. “Thanks for going out with me tonight. I want to make this work.”
“So do I,” she said softly. “I’ve got an important reason.”
He got that. “We always said we’d never be like our parents, never split up.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I know.”
At the restaurant the maître d’ led them to a quiet corner table covered with a snowy linen cloth and gleaming silver and crystal. A little candle added a romantic glow and the flowers in the vase were fresh. Schwangau was the fanciest restaurant in town, and it was the place to go if you wanted to impress a woman. Tonight Adam needed to do some serious impressing.
Their waiter appeared and asked if they’d like to start with drinks.
“Yes,” Adam, said and proceeded to order Chelsea’s favorite—champagne.
“No champagne for me,” she said.
Nothing to celebrate. This didn’t bode well. “Okay,” Adam said. “What would you like?”
“Lemonade.”
“I’ll take a Pilsner,” he told the waiter, who nodded and left. Now it was just the two of them and suddenly Adam didn’t know what to say. He tried to remember something, anything, from one of those books he’d read and drew a blank. So, instead, he pulled her present out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “Happy anniversary. I promise I’ll be on time next year.” Please, God, let there be a next year.
She smiled. It was the first one he’d seen since she kicked him out of the house. There was hope!
He held his breath as she picked up the package and unwrapped it, opened the jewel case and gave a little gasp. It reminded him of when they made love. How he wanted to hear that little gasp again.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. She took out the emerald necklace and held it up.
“I wanted to give you something special, to make up for...” Here he faltered.
Now the waiter was back with their drinks. Adam grabbed his and took a big gulp. After seven years of marriage he was back at square one, nervous and tongue-tied with a beautiful woman he wanted to impress.
She held the necklace out to him. “Help me put it on?”
He took it and came around to her side of the table. He pulled aside her
hair, exposing her neck, and flashed on the image of doing the very same thing when they were in bed together, then kissing her neck. He wanted to do that now, but he clasped on the necklace and returned to his chair.
“Adam, did you mean all those things you said in that letter?” she asked.
“Of course I did.” He’d poured his heart into that letter. How could she even ask?
She lowered her head and studied the menu.
“I know I wasn’t perfect, but was I really that bad a husband?”
She looked over the menu at him. “Sometimes, yes.”
“But not all the time.”
“Not all the time,” she conceded. “Not at first.”
Now the pesky waiter was back again, needing to know what they wanted to eat. A restaurant was not the place to be when you were trying to have a serious talk with your wife.
They placed their orders, the waiter left and Adam said, “Okay, finish what you were saying.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, but it was the only way they were going to settle this and get back to normal. The new normal, he reminded himself. The old normal hadn’t worked so well.
“Remember when we were first dating?” she asked.
What did that have to do with anything? He
nodded.
“You called all the time. You drove across the mountains in a snowstorm to see me at Christmas.”
“Because I wanted you.” He still did.
“And then you got me. But after a couple of years...” She shrugged.
“What?”
“You started taking me for granted. Like that fish in the rec room.”
“What?”
“The fish you caught in Mexico.”
“The marlin.” He’d had that baby mounted.
“I was like that marlin. You got me, and then you didn’t need to work anymore. I might as well have been hanging on the wall along with the fish.” In case he hadn’t gotten the symbolism, she added, “You’ve been taking me for granted, practically ignoring me. I want to be with someone who wants me all the time, not just some of the time, like when he’s after sex or needs something picked up from the cleaners.”
Ow. “Come on, Chels, I can’t have been that bad.”
“Yeah, you could.”
“What do you want—I shouldn’t work?”
What She Wants Page 15
