When She Falls

by Jessie Clever

  “Your father is gone?” Lydia spun around to find Cam standing naked behind her, his eyes wide with concern.

  “Yes,” Shannon said, her voice overly bright, the strain evident.

  “Okay, Shannon, I need you to concentrate.” Lydia’s eyes focused on Cam’s. “When was the last time you heard from him? Did you see him today? Where are you now?”

  Shannon was at least two hours away by car up in Portland. They needed to leave now. Someone needed to get to Shannon. She gestured for Cam to get his clothes on, miming the motions of starting a car. He sprang into action without question, piling another sliver of doubt onto the guilty heap that had begun to weigh her down. Several seconds had passed before Lydia realized Shannon hadn’t answered her.

  “Shannon?” she said loudly into the phone, only to be met by silence. Panic welled up in Lydia’s chest, but as Cam grabbed up his jeans, pushing his arms into his shirt as he headed for the stairs, a calm swept over her. “Shannon, is Ian with you?” she asked, referring to Mr. Rocket Buns. If she couldn’t get to her friend, she hoped to God Mr. Rocket Buns could.

  “He’s gone,” Shannon said through the phone.

  Lydia paused as she struggled to get a sheath over her head, her heart tripping once more into a panicked pace.

  “Who’s gone? Your father or Ian?” Silence. “Shannon?”

  Lydia slipped on a pair of flip flops and headed for the stairs, the phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear while she tried to zip up the back of her dress. Still silence.

  “Shannon?”

  Cam stood at the bottom of the stairs, wrestling on his shoes even as he reached for her car keys on the front hall table.

  “Shannon, Cam’s getting the car. We’ll be there in a little more than an hour, okay?”

  Still nothing. The panic was a full-blown roar inside of her, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could have happened to Shannon’s father, what was happening to her friend.

  “Shannon?” Maybe if she kept saying her name, her friend wouldn’t feel so lost. Maybe she could hold on until they got there. What about Emily? Someone had to call Emily. She grabbed Cam’s arm and mouthed Emily. He stopped long enough to pull his phone from his pocket, looking at her for the number to call their friend. When Shannon still hadn’t responded, she gave up on all pretense of having a conversation with her. She spoke directly to Cam saying, “I’m going to keep her on the phone while you drive.” But before she could say more, including giving him Emily’s number, Shannon came back.

  “I’ll call you right back.” The line went dead.

  Lydia stood in the foyer of her townhouse, one hand holding the now silent phone, the other on the arm of her husband, both of them in a crumpled state of dress as they rushed to get out of the house and to the car. As the first sounds of a summer storm broke the air, Lydia looked at her husband in the orange glow of the overhead light and for the second time that day, felt grateful that he was there and hated herself for it.

  They stood there frozen under the yellow light of the entryway. Her pulsed echoed in the silence between thunderclaps, and she waited for something. Anything that would distract her from the fact that she’d just made love to her husband. Her completely wrong for her husband, muddying an already complicated arrangement.

  “Cam—”

  The phone beeped in her hand. She moved it so they could both see the screen as a text from Shannon appeared.

  Found him.

  That was it. Just two little words, and Lydia’s heartbeat slowed. Her breath evened out.

  But her hand still rested on her husband’s arm. The firm muscle warm beneath her fingers. The rain came down in a steady sheet, thunder booming in the distance. She needed to get away from here. She needed to get away from her husband. Temptation was too strong with that one and overrode every logical part of her brain that said he wasn’t right for her.

  She looked up at Cam, and his warm, brown eyes were wide with understanding and attention. Shit, why did he have to be so attentive?

  “Want to have sex again?” she asked instead of saying anything else that would have been entirely more appropriate.

  Ten

  “You really need to let me have my coffee before you dump such a loaded phone call on me,” Emily said as Lydia sat in the garden behind her townhouse several days later, avoiding eavesdropping husbands.

  “Sorry.” She crossed her legs, settling into her perch on one of the benches that lined the path to the center courtyard. “I hadn’t really planned on jumping my husband, so I’m not completely prepared to talk about it now.”

  Although it had been days since her momentary lapse of good judgement that had resulted in a wonderful, if short, bout of outrageous sex with her husband (well, two bouts actually), the memory of it was still so fresh, Lydia walked on eggshells in her own home just to avoid the man with whom she’d had that lapse of good judgement.

  There was a clanking noise through the phone, as if Emily were getting that needed cup of coffee.

  “And you’re calling me already? It must be bad.”

  Lydia shook her head, easing the muscles in her neck as she did so. Her mind drifted back to that night—Cam’s long, hard body pressed against her, his fingers coaxing, his mouth—

  “No, not bad,” she said, an entirely different tone to her voice.

  Emily snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine. So why are you calling me?”

  Lydia frowned, a battle erupting in her mind between whatever was happening between her and Cam and the impending events of the weekend and Evelyn Hatfield’s birthday party. Lydia had not seen any of the Hatfield women, not even jovial Tabitha, since that disastrous afternoon of the beach wedding dress with Rebecca. But of everything battling for space in her mind, a different thought came to the fore.

  “I’m worried about Shannon,” she said. “I haven’t been in touch the past few weeks like I should have been, and I just feel like something is happening with her.”

  She heard more clanking and the sound of a microwave dinging.

  “Not something, someone,” Emily said. “And I think it’s one of those things that she would have to go through sooner or later.”

  “I haven’t told her about Cam.” Lydia watched a robin land softly on the back of the bench opposite her. “I mean, she obviously knows now after that phone call. But I haven’t talked to her about it.”

  Emily paused on the other end, the sounds of a breakfast in the making fading as her friend seemed to consider her answer.

  “I think we all knew that one day this would happen,” Emily finally said. “One day we would all grow up, but even in the growing up, we would be there for each other. The other night is a good example of that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were prepared to walk— no, make that run— out your door after shagging your husband with no makeup and flip flops on your feet because one of us called you asking for help.”

  Lydia watched the robin, turning and twisting on its perch as if it were taking in the world around it. “And the flip flops didn’t even match the dress.”

  Emily laughed. “See what I mean? We may be growing up, and our lives may be getting more complex and less about just us. But the growing up doesn’t mean growing apart. It just means something different.”

  Lydia heard the back door of the townhouse open behind her, and she turned to see Cam coming out, his smartphone to his ear. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but he seemed to sense her, his eyes finding hers as he started down the back step. He paused, and in the space between them, a message passed.

  Cam smiled, the expression small and almost sheepish before he ducked back into the house. Lydia sat very still, watching her husband retreat and for the first time in their chaotic history, something almost like peace washed over her. His smile, the way he stood on the back stoop of her townhouse, his wrinkled shirt and loose jeans. There was just something about him in that moment that made her stop
hating everything about the rash decision she had made five years ago.

  “Yes, I think it does mean something different,” Lydia said.

  “Why do I have the feeling you’re talking about something else?” Emily said.

  Lydia moved her gaze back to the bench opposite, but the robin was gone. “I think we’re all getting old, Emily.”

  Emily laughed. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  There was a noise then that sounded like a distant ringing followed by the sound of Emily shuffling the phone. Lydia glanced at her watch finding it to be hardly past seven in the morning. Her mind filled with all that she needed to do before they packed up to head to the Berkshires and Evelyn Hatfield’s birthday party. She straightened suddenly as her veering thoughts collided with another one.

  It was almost over.

  In only two short days, Cam was free to leave her again. Perhaps forever this time. If all went as planned this weekend, Evelyn Hatfield would sign a contract with Baxter’s of Newbury, and Lydia would have accomplished the very thing she set out to do. Regardless of whether or not Rebecca Hatfield really believed she was getting married, her mother thought she was and maybe that was enough.

  The phone erupted in a cacophony of crashing pottery and muffled, embarrassingly mild cursing. Startled, Lydia pulled the phone away from her ear.

  “Emily?” she nearly squeaked once she’d recovered enough to bring the phone back to her ear.

  There was some more PG-rated cursing followed by some Ows and then silence.

  “Emily?” Lydia tried again.

  “I’ll need to call you back!” Emily hissed in a sotto whisper as if worried someone might overhear her.

  The line went dead before Lydia could say anything else, and she was left sitting on a bench wondering when her friends had all gone a little crazy on her.

  “I think a good shag is just what the doctor ordered for you.”

  Cam would have scolded his mother for talking about a very personal matter between him and his wife, but he thought it didn’t really matter much. His mother was due to say what she pleased anyway.

  “I never said we…shagged,” he finished using his mother’s term when he couldn’t find a better one of his own.

  “You didn’t have to,” she said. “I can tell by the change in the tone of your voice. Something’s happened, and if it has anything to do with why you’re in Boston to begin with, it’s likely you and the lady wife have come to some sort of agreement.”

  Cam set down the coffee mug on the kitchen corner, leaning over the sink to look through the window above it. It was turning into a beautiful early autumn morning, and he through the drive to the Berkshires would prove to be a sight. Especially if Lydia remained in the docile mood she’d been in the past several days since…well, since they’d been shagging. He scrubbed a hand over his face, racking his brain for a different word.

  “You make it sound like we have a relationship similar to yours and Joseph’s.”

  His mother laughed, the sound rich and vibrant. “Then you must be happier,” she chortled.

  Cam frowned. “Can we talk about something else?” He turned away from the kitchen.

  He headed down the back hall toward the stoop that led down into the shared courtyard. He’d take in some fresh air if he had to listen to his mother go on about anything to do with sexual relations.

  “I don’t remember raising such a prude, Cameron,” his mother scoffed.

  The change in tone of her voice must have alarmed the dogs because a chorus of yips and barks came through the phone.

  “Puddles, stop,” she said. “You know he can’t help himself.” There was some shuffling followed by a licking noise. “That’s my little man.”

  Cam wanted to roll his eyes, but it would have been wasted. He reached the back door and stepped out on the stoop. He looked up, his eyes traveling toward the lightening sky when he saw her.

  Lydia sat cross-legged on a bench along the stone path that led to the shared portion of the courtyard. She wore dark jeans and a white blouse she had rolled up at the sleeves. Her hair was in a loose knot, long layers falling about her face. But it was the look in her eyes that stopped him. The warm brown tones sparked in the strengthening sun filtering through the leafy oak canopy above them. Her jaw was relaxed, the set of her cheeks placid.

  He had never seen her look so at peace.

  At peace with herself. At peace with him. At peace with everything.

  It had been days since they had made love, an unexpected explosion of emotion, an unbelievable release of pent up frustrations. But something in him wouldn’t let him credit some good sex with the look on her face just then.

  She, too, had her smartphone pressed to her ear, and he imagined one of the fearsome threesome was on the other end. Perhaps it was Shannon. After the abrupt phone call the other night, he worried a little more about that particular member of the threesome. A text had come just a few minutes after the call assuring Lydia that Shannon and her father were all right, but Lydia had been off the rest of the night.

  Not that her having sex with him was an expected occurrence, and anything after that would have seemed strange. It had something more to do with whatever had happened at the shop that day. If she had met with the Hatfields or if something with her mother had set her off. But seeing her then, sitting in the rippling sunshine, he didn’t think it could have been something with her mother. Her mother had been a source of irritation in Lydia’s life for far too long, and he was fairly sure she had grown used to the woman.

  “Cam?”

  Speaking of irritating mothers.

  “Sorry. What was that?”

  “You’re worrying, Cameron.”

  He looked away from Lydia, backing quietly through the door. “I’m not worrying, Mum.”

  “You are worrying. You’ve always worried, and I fear you always will worry.”

  Cam let out a sigh before he could stop it.

  “Cameron McCray, do not take that tone with me. I am your mother, and I will tell you how you’re feeling.”

  “Right, Mum, you will.”

  “Now, Cameron, I think it’s time you stopped all this worrying. Lydia is a capable girl, and she will find her way through whatever mess has landed on her now.”

  Cam glanced back through the window of the door. Only Lydia’s profile was visible at this angle, and then, not very much of it. He looked away. “But what if she can’t?”

  Lydia tossed her bag into the backseat of her car and reached for the driver’s door. Her hand collided with the bulky knuckles of her husband, and she looked up quickly, snatching her hand back as if it’d been burned.

  “Hey,” she snapped. “What are you doing?”

  Cam raised an eyebrow. “Chauffeuring my lovely wife on this weekend work excursion.”

  She continued to hold her offended hand but now she raised an eyebrow at him. “Chauffeur?”

  Cam frowned, wrenching the door open and in the motion, pushing Lydia aside. “Do not get all feminist on me now, Lydia. It shows a lack of ambition.”

  He slid into the driver’s seat before he could see the look of disdain she wanted to impel him with. And then a single hand extended through the crack in the still open door.

  “Keys,” he mumbled, his fingers snapping in a give-me motion.

  She slammed the keys into his hand before she could think up a pithy response.

  “You’d better not hurt my car.” She got in the passenger side.

  As she expected, he revved the engine, ratcheting his eyebrows to make it a degree more obnoxious. When she laughed, she wasn’t sure who was more surprised, but she quickly looked out the window until the moment was shattered.

  It wasn’t until they were on the Mass Pike that Cam said what she was hoping he would not say for the entire of the trip. Or the rest of his life. Whichever came first.

  “I think we should talk about the other night.”

  Lydia stared straight ahead, hiding b
ehind the amber frosted lens of her sunglasses. “Why?”

  Cam stole a glance at her, but she kept her face straight on, not giving him any indication that she was listening or cared about what he said. Because if she were to tell the truth, Lydia was fucking pissed, and she wasn’t pissed at Cameron, which was a rather new and odd occurrence.

  No, it wasn’t him at all. It was her friends, the fearsome threesome as Cam coined them. After that night’s frantic call from Shannon and then the odd phone call with Emily that morning, Lydia was quite certain all of her friends were having wicked adventures without her.

  They hit a pothole in the pike, and Lydia wanted to throw up her hands in surrender. Shannon was likely having some torrid affair with a hot defense contractor guy that looked far too much like a model while little, quiet Emily was—

  God, Lydia wanted to swear right then but Cam’s presence really did a number on her potty mouth. A whole mess of swears just to let some of the pressure out that was building inside of her would have been great.

  She needed to focus on work that weekend. She needed to close this deal. This deal had the power to end all her dreams or prove to her father once and for all that Baxter’s of Newbury was not some little woman’s plaything. Instead of thinking of any of that, she was envying her friends and their seemingly mysterious escapades. And all this while sitting in her car on the Mass Pike avoiding talking to her husband about how they had accidentally banged the other night.

  “Oh my God,” Lydia screeched, her hand going to her mouth.

  “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” Cam asked, his hand already on the gearshift, down shifting to slow the car.

  Lydia sat up, waving her hands frantically over Cam’s to get him to speed back up to normal traffic.

  “No, no, no.” She shook her head, her ponytail of hair bouncing about her. “It’s not that.”