Claire liked the grizzly cheeks.
“I hoped to get here before you, Mom. Could you take a break? Go for a walk? Claire and I need to have a conversation. Alone.”
“Whatever you need to say can be said in front of Mom.”
“It’s okay,” Mary said, raising her hands, her smile fading. “I’ll go to the front. You two need privacy.”
When Mary left the workroom, Peter placed his hands inside his denim pockets. He seemed jittery, uncomfortable. “Look, I was leaving town, but it wouldn’t be right to leave without telling you…”
He paused, not looking at her. The silence stretched while Claire waited for him to speak, feeling like her entire foundation was shaking. She understood that serious stare. When Peter couldn’t look her in the eye, when his expression furrowed with weariness and frustration, hearing his words could only lead to more heartache.
“I’m leaving.”
Claire swallowed. She braced herself against the countertop, hoping this wasn’t the separation she’d been fearing. “When will you be back?”
He shook his head. “Look, this isn’t a business trip. We need some time apart.”
“What are you saying? Are you leaving me, Peter?”
The silence stretched for several seconds, giving rise to an awkward and uncomfortable space. How should she respond to such a statement? Claire didn’t want him to leave. At the end of the day, she wanted him to come home with her, but how could she convince him to stay? A wife should make a plea for her heart’s desire, a second chance to love again, but the sad look in his eyes and fear of rejection held her back.
Peter stared at the floor instead of her. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want, but this isn’t working for me. I need more.”
Claire glanced at him. Avoidance, her usual tactic, seemed best. At least until they were comfortable sharing a frank conversation. She grasped Peter’s favorite pie, key lime, and moved to walk past him.
“I need to take the pie to the front,” she said, trying to breeze past. “We’ll have customers soon.”
“No,” he said, grasping her arm. “You have to stop, stop avoiding the problem.”
The pie slipped from her hand and landed with a splat on the floor. Aghast, Claire brooded over the cream filling, white meringue, and a broken piecrust. Peter’s favorite pie, splattered on the floor, symbolizing their relationship trouble.
Two hearts were broken. Lost. How could they find hope to heal the divide and rebuild their relationship? Claire collapsed to her knees, powerless to pick up the pieces.
“Let me help,” Peter said, kneeling beside her on the floor.
“No, it’s okay. I can clean this up. You’re leaving,” she said, whispering. Her voice came out strangled; her hands shook. He stretched forward, maybe to touch her, but then eased away. Claire appealed to him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Claire…” His tone low, empathetic.
Her mother peered around the corner. Her concern mirroring Claire’s fragile thoughts and emotions.
“You won’t let me help you with a wasted pie?” Peter rose upward, throwing his hands in the air. “What do you want from me? I look at this workroom…I know this bakery bears some responsibility in our marriage troubles. If you were not here so much…”
Claire glanced upward, sensing his unhappiness, a look that mirrored her sorrow. Yet she perceived desperation and need in his eyes, too. “It’s not only about me. Your accounting firm bears some of the blame.” Her eyes filled with fluid. “What are we doing, Peter? Why are you leaving? Is there no way to fix this, fix us?”
He shook his head. “Look, I came here to tell you that we need time apart. To think. To get our heads in place.” He paused. Was that emotion in his voice? Was he hurting as much as her? “My bags are packed. They’re in the SUV. If you need anything…leave a message on the phone.”
“That’s cold and impersonal. The issues in our marriage are not all my fault.”
“Did I say they were? Did I lay the blame on you? I need more. Don’t you want more? You’re not there for me in the morning.”
“You’re not there for me at night,” Claire bit back, face heating. “It feels like you’re blaming me. Where are you at the end of the day? Where are you going now? Is there someone else? A new bed, a new pillow to lay your head? Because you sure as hell have not been sharing mine.”
He didn’t respond to the taunt.
“She’ll never love you as much as me.”
“Who? What are you insinuating?”
Claire swallowed, picturing Lori. “Long blonde hair curled to her waist. High heels, fashionable blouses and red lipstick.”
His face contorted in frustration. “I’m not dignifying that comment with a response.”
“Will you be staying with her?” Claire took in a shaky breath, thinking the name might help her face the truth. “With Lori?”
“She’s offered her couch.”
Claire sniffed. Angry tears formed in her eyes at the realization of his probable destination. “I get it. You don’t have the courage to tell me the truth. Just go to her then. Get out of here if you don’t want me.”
“Is that what you believe? That I don’t want you?”
Peter studied Claire, seriously considering her while waiting for a reply. The thorough scrutiny triggered discomfort and made her question if the implications for an affair were accurate. She had not witnessed a physical embrace, not even a kiss.
“I don’t know what to believe.” One of them needed to say: I love you, but Claire didn’t have the courage. He might not believe her. “Does it matter? Your decision is made. You’re leaving and I need to clean up this mess.”
Peter backed away, increasing the distance between them. Her mom walked around the corner and approached them. “I’ve watched you fighting for weeks.” Her mother’s stature had never seemed so small, nor her voice so low and soft. “Peter, Claire, it’s time to get help.”
“Mom…” Peter gestured toward her with his hand… “this is between my wife and me.”
Her mother grabbed a wooden spoon and spatula and came between them, moving toward the ruined pie. The frown on her face, and the tight hold on the implements, exposed her misery. The mess on the floor shifted her focus, but Claire knew her mother. She was determining how to fix the problem, their marriage woes, more so than a damaged pie.
Mary said to Peter, “When you married into the Davis family, did you think we wouldn’t offer advice when times were tough? I know you don’t want my help, but I can’t stand by and…”
Peter placed his hand on his mother-in-law’s shoulder. “I know you mean well, but you can’t fix everything.”
“Not by myself. If this bakery is part of the problem, Burt and I will find a solution. I’ll talk to him. We can work together, so the two of you can have better balance in your marriage.”
“It’s not my work that’s the problem,” Claire said, shaking her head, “but it’s just like you, Peter, to not admit that your work hours contribute to our marriage difficulties.”
“Fair enough. I can’t argue with that, but my income pays the bills. This work,” he gestured toward the broken pie, “sinks money into a risky business.”
“Whoa,” Claire stated, wiping away a tear, “this is a family-owned bakery. A lifetime worth of work. Don’t be disrespectful, especially in front of my mother.”
Now anger crumpled her mom’s face. Her cheeks blossomed with red. “Peter Douglas, I’ll forgive you for that comment. Have you forgotten you had one of your first dates right here at the bakery?” She pointed at the broken pie on the floor. “Key lime has always been your favorite. It’s a mess, but I can fix it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Peter said, sighing. “You’re right, but this doesn’t change anything.”
Mom went crazy. She knelt on the floor, reached for the pan, then carefully maneuvered meringue and pie filling back inside, leaving the pie crust on the floor. “Look, the f
illing is clean.”
Claire didn’t say a word as her mother spread key lime cream around the pan, making a new concoction. She spooned broken pieces of meringue around the top. “Of course, it’s not the same, nothing looks or feels the same after twenty-some years of marriage. Look at my graying hair, the wrinkles beneath my eyes. I’m still the mother-in-law who was overjoyed to have a son like you come into my life, and a mom who has always given you advice, Claire, even when you didn’t like what I had to say.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Claire replied. Sometimes, her mother’s advice was spot-on, but this time, her advice couldn’t make a difference.
Mary plunged the spoon into the mix and held the key lime concoction up to her son-in-law. Peter didn’t know how to respond. His facial expression wrinkled in shock. Blank and unreadable. Mary said, “The pie looks different, but it tastes the same. It could be better than before. Peter, why don’t you sample it?”
He appeared horror-struck. “I can’t believe I’m considering this.”
He accepted the spoon from his mother-in-law and tentatively tasted his favorite dessert, albeit, missing the pie crust. White meringue coated his lips. Claire would normally wipe, lick, or kiss the sweetness, but a messy situation didn’t inspire closeness. Unwilling to take the first step to reconciliation, she felt frozen inside while staring at him.
“The standards have fallen a bit, but you’re right. Delicious as always.” He licked his lips and Claire watched his tongue, the longing to love him gnawing inside her gut. “Reminds me of an Eton Mess, but don’t feed it to the customers. I’m sorry, it’s time to leave.”
“Claire…” her mother said, appearing as if she would hurt her if she didn’t say something.
“Don’t go,” Claire whispered, hoping. “I need you.”
They stared at each other then, neither of them speaking.
“Stop it!” Mary pleaded. “Don’t do this. You love each other.”
Peter touched Claire’s arm, gazing intently into her eyes, and then he shook his head and backed away. “Time apart will do us good.”
“You need time together,” Mary said.
“I know you mean well, Mom, but I have to go.” Peter paused at the entryway, turning back momentarily. “If you need anything, Claire, message me.”
She nodded.
Peter left the workroom. Claire heard the bell chiming at the front entrance as Peter passed through the doorway. She grasped her head. Her mother stared at the pie, the frustration wrinkling her face. Mary threw it, pie plate and filling, into the garbage.
“It’s over,” Claire said, feeling numb inside. Empty. What would her life be like without Peter? Without his strength, his support, his love...
“It’s not over,” her mother replied, “but it will be if one of you doesn’t try to work through the issues.”
Claire looked at her mother, recognizing the concern.
“And by the way, this is a family-owned bakery. I’ll talk to your father. He’s bored at home. Maybe it’s time one of us came out of retirement.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. Just because we’re over the age of sixty-five doesn’t mean we don’t have a few more miles to go.”
Overcome by the bakery’s work and her marriage woes, Claire reclined in a nearby chair. The tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Does Nora like pie?”
“She’s more of a cupcake kind of gal.”
“Hmm,” Claire said, considering, wiping at her eyes. “Let’s approach her. I have an idea.”
“I do, too.”
“What is it?”
Her mother came before her and grasped her shoulder, squeezing. “I won’t burden you with the details. Not today. You’ve faced enough. Give me time to talk to your father.”
“You’re worrying me.”
“My children are all that matter to me. I’ll find a way to help.”
Her mom assumed a contemplative look and then left Claire to take newly baked pies to the front of the bakery. Claire heard her mother humming and wondered what had inspired her sudden change in attitude.
Chapter Three
Peter wanted to do something more than walk away from the problem. He’d given up too easily. Had the distance between them grown so wide that having a simple conversation wasn’t enough anymore? The disturbing silence; the lack of laughter. One of them should initiate conversation. One of them should take a chance.
Why hadn’t he?
He drove his Volvo XC40 along the highway, pushing the pedal to the metal, accelerating, driving in a careless way. He licked his tips. The tang of meringue pie still coating his tastebuds. His mother-in-law knew how to sweeten him up. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Damn! She knew her son-in-law didn’t want to leave his wife.
What did he want? He didn’t want to quit, so what had really coerced him to leave?
They’d been in trouble for months.
At first, Peter shared his marriage woes with Lori to receive genuine advice. He hadn’t meant for her to get the wrong idea. Their conversations had led to shifting relationship boundaries, which could have crossed the lines of propriety, breaching Claire’s trust. Lori’s advice had done nothing more than confuse him. He had to get it together; get his head on straight if he were to rectify the situation.
Who could he turn to that would understand? That person should be his wife, or at the very least a counsellor.
Time apart will be good... Lori was wrong. They needed time together.
Peter had made the worst mistake of his life. The pain…the emotion on her face, he couldn’t unsee her sorrow, her sniffles, her weeping. His heart constricted. His own eyes filled with unshed tears.
What are you doing, man?
Is it too late to go back?
He wondered, would time apart improve or complicate the situation, increasing the distance between them? His mother-in-law’s point of view gave him clarity. There had been enough time apart. To work this out, time together—quality time—would benefit them more. What would Claire say if he went back? Would she accept him? Or…would she reject him the way he had rejected her?
Peter groaned. Emotional fatigue caused his head to ache. They hadn’t made a physical connection in weeks. Claire hadn’t so much as touched his arm or kissed him goodnight at the end of the day. Her kiss… They didn’t sleep in the same bed. In fact, she was too tired to look him in the eye to know if he was upset. Avoiding conversation, he often came in late at night, and his beautiful wife, she was always asleep.
Sometimes, he’d stand at the foot of their bed, staring at Claire. An angel asleep, breathing gently. Open your eyes; notice the man standing beside your bed.
Nothing was in alignment. Not the moon and stars, not relationship schedules or work schedules. It didn’t seem right.
What was a man to do? What should he do? One thing was for damn sure, he couldn’t accept Lori’s offer, giving him a convenient place to stay.
He reached for his cell phone and punched the phone number into the keyboard, then waited for Lori to answer.
“Hi, Peter, are you on your way?”
He sighed.
“Peter, are you there?”
“There’s been a change in plans.”
“Oh? You decided not to leave?”
“Something like that.”
“You know, you’re welcome to stay with me. It’s no trouble.”
“Hey, I’m grateful for the offer.” He lied to her. “But staying with you wouldn’t be fair to Claire.”
“What are you talking about, fair to Claire? The woman who won’t have sex with you?”
Peter gripped the steering wheel. “Have some respect, she’s my wife. You know what, I made a mistake. I’ve been sharing too much personal stuff with you.”
He listened to the derision in her voice, the catlike drawl. “A man like you…your wife must be crazy not to submit. When you realize it’s over, I’m here, my couch is here,” she purred, p
ausing, “but if you need something more, something you’ve been missing, I’d be willing to share my bed.”
Peter sighed. His guts twisted. “I have to go. I’ll be out of the office for the next few days.”
“A business trip or a hotel room?”
“Lori, it’s none of your business.”
Peter didn’t give his office manager time to respond, he disconnected the call. The taste of key lime pie lingered in his mouth. His favorite pie. The confection connected him not only to Claire, but a family, too.
He knew what he needed; he needed his life back. He didn’t know where to start.
Peter paused on the highway, shoulder checked for oncoming vehicles, then turned the SUV around and headed to Ocean Park. He couldn’t go home. He’d told Claire he was leaving, but his mother-in-law had offered to help. Should he go there? He decided to stay, for the time being, with his in-laws if they would accept him.
When Mary saw her son-in-law standing on the other side of the door, his forlorn expression squeezed at her heartstrings. The fear, the anxiety in his eyes almost undid her, but she breathed a sigh of relief that he’d chosen to come home, rather than choose a place that would only cause further separation in his marriage. Mary took a deep breath, not wanting to submit to tears, reaching for patience and strength. Claire and Peter needed her.
She opened the door. “I’m glad to see you, Peter.”
He waited on the front stoop, dangling his keys between his fingers. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
Mary stepped backward, inviting her son-in-law into her home. “I know why. Come inside, Peter. The kettle’s on, and…” He didn’t move. Just stood on the stoop, somber looking. What should she do?
Burt came up behind Mary. “Come on in, son. I know it’s early in the day, but I’m thinking about having a beer, and from what Mary’s told me, I think you could use one.”
Peter stepped inside the breezeway, then paused in the entryway. “Is it okay that I’m here? I’ve let you down. I’ve disappointed my wife, your daughter You must hate me.”
A Sea for Summer Page 2
