Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (39 page)

The house was empty
when I closed the front door, then my bedroom door, and
lastly, my closet. The plush carpet cushioned my knees. This was a
good spot. I was concealed in the most intimate place in the house.
There was not a single place outside where I felt safe. I hunched
over, one hand on the wall for support, another clasped a thick
sweater. I bit into the cable knit and let out the
scream.

Why?

I looked around at the full closet,
remembering a time not so long ago when one side was empty. Part of
me wished it still was. The way he’d turned me upside down—I was
fine before we met.

Was I not enough?

Clutching the tangible pain, I concentrated
on breathing in slow, deep breaths, reminding myself to keep
perspective. It wouldn’t always be so bad. Time would inevitably
pass and my reaction would be the same as always—mechanical. Cry
like a baby, suck it up, and find the strength to move forward. One
thing would be different—I was not going to allow a repeat of my
mistakes. I was not going to get stuck again.

I would find a way to muddle through; of
that, I had no doubt. Change was always difficult. I had no doubt
about that, either. Most importantly, no matter what happened, I
would be most careful with this baby. No risks. No stress. If that
meant avoiding confrontation, even reality, then so be it. He or
she deserved to have the most peaceful gestation ever known to
man.

My first official act of peace was to call
my brother Ronnie and make arrangements for a visit. I hoped the
distance would do some good.

May
3
^rd

Four long weeks. It had been four
excruciating weeks since I’d walked out of his hotel room, and I
was still trying to make sense of it. That’s twenty-eight lonely
nights spent crying and reflecting, and twenty-eight days spent
speculating with my brother and Lily. All the what-if’s and
suppositions led to one defining point—I was a fool. Always have
been.

I had yet to tell Evan about the baby. I
told my brother, Aunt Rose, and Pastor Tony. Lily told Maria.
Everyone knew, except Evan and Marcus. Telling Marcus was as good
as telling him.

My brother sided against me. Ronnie said I
had no right to keep this tidbit from Evan and I couldn’t convince
him that I didn’t intend to, but simply could not fathom a way to
face him. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to see him and then
watch him reject me. Us.

Evan had made no qualms letting me know
where he stood in terms of reconciliation. My initial reaction was
anger, but the words hit like a cannon firing at close range. I
couldn’t run from the impact and was sinking fast.

My cheeks burned hot as I wiped the loose
hair from my face and pulled it back into a messy knot.

“What am I going to do?” I asked the marble
slab, sitting in the cool, green grass. Solomon didn’t respond.
Well, he was probably lecturing me for only waiting a year before I
met and married someone else. And I’d always had an innate ability
to block out criticisms. Still, that ability was being put to the
test.

I’d tried to keep my humiliation from Lily
at first, ignoring her impatient questions and answering without
answering. I’d tried to make her think my coming home so soon was
no big deal, that everything was fine. Of course, she went right to
the internet. Her inquisition intensified when she heard his next
film was put on hold. Then she heard the funding fell through. She
wanted to know when Evan would be back. I told her I didn’t think
he would be, and blubbered the sickening details. I held out for
twelve whole hours.

I heard he was at a rehab clinic in Arizona.
She was keeping tabs on him—must know how badly I wanted to know
what he was doing.

Every problem is a blessing
in disguise
, Sol used to say. Sure didn’t feel like
it.

Ronnie liked to say that life had a way of
working itself out. I was nowhere near the ‘work-out’ portion of my
thought processes, still deeply entrenched in mourning the death of
my barely begotten marriage and the loss of my new best friend.

“Why do I allow things to happen to me? Why
do I never take control of anything?”

What was it about me that made Evan think he
could treat me any way he wanted? He was sorely mistaken if he
thought I’d be bought with a few words of remorse. But he wouldn’t
even admit it! He wouldn’t even say, ‘Yes, I screwed up.’ I
couldn’t forgive him if he wouldn’t cop to what he did. It wouldn’t
matter so much if I were the only one to pay for my mistakes, but
the boys loved Evan, too.

What I’d give for the courage to look him in
the face and say the words. At least then I could try to imagine
moving forward. But I knew myself and the power he held over me. I
may start out angry but, were we to come face to face, I would
cave, probably apologize for blowing everything out of proportion,
and then hate myself for it later. Evan would think he didn’t have
to respect me because I didn’t respect myself.

If only I could carry the assertiveness I
had with my kids over to other areas of my life. But with my boys,
there was a clear course of action. I could see each choice and
where it might lead. There was always a definite right and wrong
way to handle each of them, according to my principles and their
personalities. I saw a destination, a way to get them where I
hoped.

With Evan, I was always flying blind.

What did I hope for? What terms would I be
willing to accept from Evan? The first question was the easiest. I
hoped we’d have a healthy, happy baby. I wanted all my children to
be well-adjusted, honest, admirable men of faith. And I wanted to
be with Evan. Of course, I cared about what happened. But not as
much as I should have, certainly not enough to stay away. He seemed
to care even less than I did, and that infuriated me.

Was she so beautiful, so desirous, that he
was willing to risk us? Or was I of so little value to him that he
simply didn’t care? There were no answers to be had, so long as he
was denying everything. Did he expect playing stupid was enough to
convince me? Love may be blind, but it wasn’t deaf and dumb! I
wondered where he met her. Probably through Stevie. That much I
could believe. Sheri told me he was bad news. She said he was a
prick. I wondered if Sheri really knew the truth like Evan said, or
if he was counting on her to cover for him.

Should I ask her?
The question was consumed by fury. How dare he put me in the
position to have to resort to a third party!

Images of things I didn’t want to see filled
my head. I imagined him kissing and touching a faceless woman the
way he touched me. The same way he acted when filming with
Gretchen. I wondered if it was her. Had he whispered the same sweet
words—lines? How long was it going on? One time, the whole time?
Did he love her, too, or just not me? Is this what he did—how he
got his philandering reputation?

If he didn’t love me, he should have said
so. He never should’ve asked me to marry him.

I looked back to the gray headstone. “Why do
I want to believe him instead of the evidence?”

I wanted to call Lily. I needed reassurance
that I was not on a hormonally-charged tirade. That I was not
overreacting to a simple misunderstanding, like Evan had wanted me
to think. I know what I saw and I wanted it verified. Again.

As if she heard my thoughts, Lily’s number
flashed on my cell’s caller ID. Relief coursed through me, until I
heard the tone of her voice.

“You need to come home, right now.”

“Why? Is Maria—”

“She’s fine. It’s . . . oh, this is bad,
Grace. I’d rather wait until you’re here to tell you.”

“Why?” Knowing me the way she did and
hearing her grave tone, she was probably right. I’d probably be
happier if whatever it was remains a mystery, but asked her to tell
me anyway.

“You’re going to freak out. It’s not even
me, and I’m freaking out for you. Grace, you have to pick up the
kids and come home. Now.”

I’d already patted Sol’s headstones was on
my feet, running for the Jeep. Lily was never cryptic. Whatever she
had to tell me must be bad. Really, really bad.

“Lily, just tell me.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Lily!”

“There’s a video on the Internet . . .”
Maybe she was expecting me to ask but I couldn’t form a question
without more information. “It’s Evan—”

“What did he do? Is he sober?” I steeled
myself beside my Jeep, knowing this was it—the defining piece that
would determine which direction I’d go. With him or without
him.

“You’re in it, too.”

“What?”

“I think it came from when you went to visit
him on set.” She paused again. “You guys are in his trailer. It
looks like it was taken from outside, through the screen on a back
window. It’s kind of grainy, but it’s—well, obviously you thought
you were alone.”

Thank God I didn’t know many people. I
couldn’t look a single one in the eye.

It was like being pummeled. Beaten down into
a spineless lump of clay.

One would think that all my trials—surviving
the loss of my parents, living through the death of my first
husband, being a single working mother of two strong-willed
boys—would have helped me garner some form of courage. But I was as
big a chicken as ever.

I’d been repeatedly mortified, on a much
larger scale. My humiliation was made available on demand to anyone
over the age of 18 with $29.95 to spare.

My mother used to say that a person never
really knew what they were capable of until they were put to the
test and the whole disaster certainly felt like I was being tested.
And failing.

That video had tried and convicted me and I
was suffering under the punishment. The torment of trying to
accomplish everyday things while strangers—people I would never
meet—sat in the privacy of their own home, and watched me make love
to my husband.

I felt naked and abused. Empty. But I kept
telling myself it would get better and it had to be true. There was
no conceivable way that things could possibly get worse.

To top things off, it was Evan’s birthday
and I couldn’t muster the courage to call him. I wasn’t even sure
he wanted me to. He’d chosen to call Lily and ask her to tell me
about the video. He said he didn’t want to bother me. I think that
hurts the most.

I was lingering at the door to Dr. Lena’s
counseling office at my church, debating the wisdom of keeping my
appointment, when Pastor Tony stepped out from another door down
the hall.

“Good morning, Grace,” he called, gently
waving his hand.

“Morning,” I held my focus on the door in
front of me, depressed. I’d been spotted, now I have to go in.

“I’d like to speak with you.”

I gestured to the counseling office. “I have
an appointment.”

“It won’t take but a minute,” he assured,
running a hand through his dark, wavy hair. Patches of gray had
recently formed on the sides. “Elena won’t mind if you’re a few
minutes late.”

“Oh, okay.”

I hadn’t spoken with Pastor Tony in months.
His sudden desire for a meeting felt like a call to the Principal’s
Office.

I sat in a high-backed wooden chair in front
of his large mahogany desk. He met my speechless stare with a
cutting gaze, and I knew he knew everything.

Shame flooded my eyes until I couldn’t
see.

“I heard about your recent troubles.” His
sweet southern drawl could not temper the bite of his words.

My frazzled thoughts gathered and shattered,
leaving me speechless.

“I’d like to talk to you about it.”

If only the floor would open up and swallow
me.

“Grace, look at me, please.”

My overwhelming shame would not allow me to
grant his request. I was exposed again; naked and unable to find
cover. “You have no idea how violated I feel.” I crossed my arms
over my aching stomach. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course not.” I squeezed my eyes
shut.

“I know this is uncomfortable and I do
apologize, but my position as your cleric requires me to see that
you’re alright.” He sighed. “I’d also like to believe that we know
one another well enough to discuss this. I would love some eye
contact right about now.”

I strained against it, but met his eyes
halfway.

“Though my contact with you has been
somewhat limited of late, I still believe you are a woman of
strong, moral character. One who dedicates more time to the service
of others than most regular attending members of this church.”

He leaned back in his leather chair. “If you
don’t want to speak with me, I understand.”

I remembered the kindness he’d shown after
Sol died, offering to preside over his funeral and checking in on
me and the boys, recommending me to Dr. Lena.

I took a deep breath, using my anger to push
through the teary shame and shove my words out. “I went to visit my
husband while he was working. We were alone in his private trailer.
Maybe I should’ve checked to make sure that the windows were
completely covered, but he spent so much time inside and never
showed any concern for his privacy. I saw no reason to worry. I
didn’t know a person could be so disgusting. He’s hired a Private
Investigator, and his attorneys are handling things.”

“I’m awful sorry for you, Grace. How are the
boys handling this?”

My boys
. The
thought broke me and I began to snivel. “Caleb doesn’t seem to know
anything. And Noah . . . he can barely look at me. He won’t talk
about it and I can’t deny it’s a relief. How do I
explain?”