Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (40 page)

He nodded. “Honesty can be difficult, but
always best. If it helps, you can send him my way. I’ll work out
something for him to do over here and maybe he’ll talk to me.”

I nodded again, knowing it wouldn’t help.
Noah wasn’t so much disappointed as he was angry. He saw me as a
victim, the way I saw him. Look at what my selfish desires had done
to my family. In Noah’s academic career, he’d never had a single
behavioral report. But he’d been involved in three fights in the
past two weeks. Trying to defend my reputation. I took him with me
to help out at the church’s Food Closet last week, and that seemed
to lighten his mood a little. But then he went back to school.

Pastor Tony offered a smile that didn’t
reach his eyes. “It’ll work out, Grace. Just give it time.
Remember, God never closes a door without opening a window.” He
stood, offering his hand. When I took it, he pulled me from the
chair and into his soft embrace. “Keep up with your charity work
and I’ll keep praying for you and the boys.”

I’d been putting in time at a second-hand
store the church supported on my days off. It started when I took
some usable household items to the stores’ drop-off center. The
woman that ran the place, Theona, didn’t look at me funny. She was
too busy trying to sort out the huge, disorderly mess in the in the
warehouse style building adjacent to the store. After I mentioned
the pastors’ name, she jumped at my offer to help.

Helping others was the only way I knew to
keep my head above water. But I was worried, too. I was scheduled
to serve in the nursery next Sunday. I’d been dreading facing the
parents and had contemplated cancelling.

He stepped back, releasing me. “I know how
judgmental some folks can be and took the liberty of cancelling
your monthly childcare service days. If you want to serve, all you
need to do is show up. But there’s no obligation. They won’t be
left short-handed if you don’t.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it but my voice
sounded flat.

“In case you’re interested, the soup kitchen
and women’s shelter downtown are always in need. They specifically
serve the indigent population in our community and can always use
another set of hands.”

I relaxed a little. “I’ll keep that in
mind.” The people I’d met the few times I served at the soup
kitchen were the nicest, least judgmental group I’d ever known.

I was still having trouble keeping my eyes
off the floor. “I appreciate your . . . candor.”

Dr. Lena wasn’t at
her desk. I stared at her silver nameplate from my usual
chair nearest the door and waited. Leaning my head against the back
of the couch, I closed my eyes, hoping for a stroke to help me
forget the whole, agonizing situation.

My head had started hurting during my talk
with Pastor. It seemed to really kick in when I stood to leave.

I was been laid bare, literally and
metaphorically. Private things spilled into public, subject to
demoralizing, hypocritical judgment. It was nice to know I had my
cleric’s support, but still my stomach ached. Keeping this
embarrassing fiasco at bay was proving more difficult than I
thought. I was constantly confronted and didn’t see how I was
supposed to live with the scrutiny and not let it stress me
out.

I was finding myself jealous of Lily because
Evan called her. Because she talked to him. It was so ridiculous
and stupid and I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh, you’re here.” Dr. Lena’s voice sounded.
My eyes shot open. “Pastor said it wouldn’t take long, but I didn’t
know he meant lickety-split.” She was taking her seat behind her
cluttered desk, holding a mug of coffee.

I shrugged, clasping my hands in my lap.

“How have things been? I haven’t seen you in
a while.” Her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose as she
looked over the rim to better see my face. The tight curls of her
dark hair were relaxed into gentle waves.

“I’m furious.” I crossed my legs and gazed
towards an empty corner of the room.

“Let’s explore that,” she said, and I could
not stop my responsive scoff. Her eyes widened. “Sorry. I’m just so
. . . extremely disappointed with myself, my choices, the way
things are going.”

“And how is that?”

I scoffed again. “I know you know.” She
ascended with a slight nod while I continued. “They’re beyond
awful. The parents at Caleb’s school, they look at me like—” I
shook my head, thinking of the glares I got while dropping him off
that morning. “Apparently, I’m a prostitute by association. You may
want to keep your distance, make sure you don’t catch my depravity.
This Internet thing is like a freaking shadow. Everywhere I go,
it’s right there and everyone sees it! People I’ve never met have
seen me naked!”

The embarrassment rolled down my cheeks.
Funnily enough, I didn’t sound sad. I sounded angry. “Half the
time, I’m on the verge of losing my mind.”

The anger wasn’t overpowering. It was
encompassing, but not consuming. It didn’t cloud my thoughts, but
clarified them, and I was able to articulate exactly what I
felt.

“When it rains, it pours.”

“You can say that again. Oh, and here’s the
kicker,” I tossed my hands, “I’m pregnant! And we’re
separated!”

“You have my congratulations to the first
and condolences to the second. May I ask why?”

I accepted her tribute and responded, “No,
that humiliation is solely mine.” But I continued telling her about
how upset I was, the feeling that I’d lost something I couldn’t
describe and my sorrow in knowing I’d never get it back, my
appreciation for the Pastor’s sympathy, my problems with Evan’s
problems, and distaste for life in general.

“I don’t like this feeling so . . . so
impotent. I’m ashamed and furious that I didn’t see any of it
coming. I knew being with him would cost me. I just never imagined
the price could be so high.”

The gushing wounds of my heart bled all over
her floor.

She responded with a sweet, supportive pat
on the arm. “I have complete faith that you’re able to handle it.
You hold your head high. Keep praying and reading your Bible.”

I drove home flustered.

Pace yourself.

I thrust the metal pan into the dirt and
heaved a mound of soil into the waiting wheelbarrow.

Cool dirt flew onto my legs. It was too warm
for jeans. Yesterday’s dark clouds had passed us by without a drip.
I repeated the movements, intently shoveling until sweat ran down
my forehead.

Arnold has died. I found him, listless,
inside the garage yesterday. When I got him to the vet emergency
hospital, it was too late. I had him cremated.

Noah was taking it the hardest, pretending
like nothing was wrong, and Caleb wanted a puppy. When they came
home from school, we would bury him. Arnold always liked lying
under the pine tree in the corner but the roots were too large and
mangled to dig around, so I settled for a wide open space on the
opposite side of the yard—the corner I was going to use for a
garden—because he used to lounge there in the sun on cool
mornings.

As I patted my non-existent belly, a shadow
moved between the flat boards in the fence. The sound of a metal
latch clanged as the new gate to the adjoining yard opened up. I
held my breath, nerves welled in my throat.

I started shoveling again, as if I’d never
stopped, like I hadn’t noticed his presence.

“Can I help with that?” His hand moved to
take the shovel.

“No, thank you,” I tightened my grip.

Evan’s hand pulled back and I noted the
loose skin on his long fingers. When I straightened up to stare, he
was noticeably thinner. His pupils were dilated in the bright
light. All my tenderness faded to exasperation.

“What are you doing here?” I thrust the
shovel heatedly into cold earth.

“Don’t you miss me at all?”

I bit my lip.

“I know you’re upset with me, Gracie, but
for all the wrong reasons.”

“What are the right reasons, Evan?” When he
didn’t answer, I changed the subject. “How is the hunt for our
voyeur going?”

“My investigators learned where the original
video was uploaded and determined what type of phone it was that
took the recording. That helped to find where it was purchased, but
it was probably paid for with cash. They’ve got a short list of
people they’re looking at, but no one’s saying anything yet. It has
been taken down, though. But you know how that is. A million people
have probably already downloaded it.” He stood calmly with his
hands in his pockets. Not a trace of nervousness.

“How long have you been staying there?” I
pointed towards Ray’s old place that was supposed to be for
Marcus.

“A few weeks.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.”

I’d noticed several things out of place
lately. Mostly small things, like the television was on a different
channel than it was when I turned it off. Things had been moved
from one place to another. The most notable items: my pillow and
perfume had gone missing. And I kept getting the strange feeling
that I was not alone. I tried to convince myself that it was just
me, but apparently it was him.

It burned that he was being so open about
his secret hovering and yet so tight-lipped over something I’d
caught him doing.

“I heard you didn’t start the last
picture.”

“The director was fired.”

“What about your other projects?”

“I pulled out,” he shrugged, nonchalant,
disheveled hair blowing in the breeze.

Dammit, he was still beautiful. “Why are you
doing this to me?”

“I want you back.”

A painful ripple tore through my chest. It
was exactly what I wanted to hear and the absolute worst thing he
could say. I swallowed the pain, deciding to let my anger
answer.

“And you think using drugs and spying on me
is a good way to go about that?”

“I’m doing the best I can in a really bad
situation.”

I start digging, again. “You look
awful.”

“And you’re beautiful as ever.” He stroked
my cheek, sending warm shivers up my back. The hairs on my arms
stood at attention. “I miss you, and I’m so sorry about Arnold. I
know how you loved him.” The sincerity of his eyes was tainted by
whatever he’d been taking. I shied away.

“I can’t touch you?”

I stared down at the shovel, shaking my
head. I shut my eyes tight. It felt like a lie. I wanted him to
touch me more than anything. I wanted him to take hold of me and
kiss me, to make forget about the last two months. But I couldn’t
let that happen. He was in such bad shape.

“How did it happen?”

“He ate rat poison.”

His brow crumpled. “How did he get it? I saw
it in the cabinet when—” he stopped.

“Go on,” I urged, “When you . . .”

“The other day, I was in the garage looking
for the drill. I saw it up in the cupboard. And I know you haven’t
set it out.”

“Because you’ve been watching. What was the
drill for?”

“Hanging pictures,” he shrugged, looking
away. It was the first time he’d looked at anything but me since he
came into the yard.

“Why are you doing this?” I drew in a ragged
breath, hoping to chase away the quiver in my voice. “You
said—”

“I didn’t mean it. You didn’t believe me.
You still don’t, I can tell. Why haven’t you called Sheri?”

“This type of behavior isn’t healthy, Evan.
Normal people don’t do this kind of thing.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I’ve told you
the truth. I need you.”

“No, you need counseling,”

“We can go to counseling. I’ll get in the
car right now and go.” His thin face lit with displaced hope.

I felt sick. I’d waited so long to see him,
only to wish I hadn’t. If I did what I wanted, if I took him back
now, I’d be a crutch.

“
Not ‘we’. There is only you. You need
counseling.” He was still smiling. “You’re making me crazy
with—with you . . . you’re right here!” I stuttered, decidedly
taking a deep breath to wait for the right words. “I need you to
leave me alone. To get better. I can’t get through this if you’re
everywhere I look.”

I had to see him in the grocery store, on
billboards, posters, folders, stickers, backpacks, countless news
stories, and rack after rack in the entertainment section of every
place I shopped. No television, no street or store was safe.

“I can’t take you hating me.”

“Try listening to me for once!” I shoveled
furiously, stepping into the hole. “And I don’t hate you—I want you
to take care of yourself.”

After a few shovels’ worth of silence, I
looked up. The yard was empty. When the hole was deep enough, I
headed inside to cry in peace.

Consoling myself in the kitchen with a glass
of juice, I heard it—a loud crashing—and darted out back, through
the adjoining gate, into the neighboring yard. I stopped at the
edge of the patio, staring, jaw agape. The large glass door to the
kitchen had been shattered. An upturned dining chair rested inside
the frame as explanation. The cement patio was sprinkled with
diamond-like bits of glass. A fluid curtain flapped gently in the
breeze as the sound of more destruction thundered from inside the
house.

Against my better judgment, I maneuvered
through, crunching into the open dining area. The family room
beyond was sparsely furnished with a single couch and one picture—a
large painting depicting the streets of London. It was all browns
and grays, a blur, save the bright red two-story bus tearing down
the street, as a woman talked on the phone inside a booth across
the roadway.

To my right was Evan, his back to me as he
slouched in the kitchen. Broken drawers lined the floor below empty
slots in the cabinetry. That explained the ruckus. Suddenly, his
arms flailed, tearing doors from the kitchen cabinets. One stuck.
He jerked it again and sent it flying into the microwave. He
screamed, shoving them both to the floor. The combined sounds
became a frightening roar. His face was contorted, his muscles
bulging. Sinews streaked the length of his arms as he snatched the
heavy cutting board from the counter top. He brought it crashing
down on the granite and then sent it flying.