Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (46 page)

My dangled foot
kicked
the stupid ball on the floor across the room.
Nigel ran and brought it back, setting it directly in front of my
toes. My leg heaved forward, kicking it back across the room. After
twenty minutes of tedium, he was finally panting.

I sat up—the most physical activity Dr.
Grainger recommended—and lifted him from the ground onto the bed
beside me. He scampered across my legs, bounding around my
mountainous stomach to lick at my face. The tickling made me
chuckle as I pet his white, wavy hair. I should have been thankful
to Sheri for the dog, but thanked God, instead. He knew I needed
the company.

Normally, I didn’t mind being by myself. So
long as I had things to keep me busy—but there was nothing. I was
tied to the bed, a prisoner to my gigantic womb. I spent most of my
time reading, changing my mani-pedi, and folding laundry. I’d also
gotten pretty good at grabbing things with my feet. Evan’s movies
kept me busy for a few hours a day. They were a little predictable
and total chick flicks, which explained why Noah never liked them.
Evan was definitely the best part of them. I’d heard he was filming
a biopic on Bobby Fischer. He was going to knock that out of the
park. Evan was limitless when it came to his work.

A knocking noise echoed down the hall.
Nigel’s ears pointed towards the French doors that led out to the
pool. His little legs lunged into the air, jumping from the tall
bed to the floor and out his doggie door to investigate. I
recognized the sound of the garage door and slid to the end of the
bed, stuffing my underused feet into my sneakers.

I was not supposed to be moving around
unless I had to, but I was the only one home. The boys had left for
school. Lily was working. They weren’t due back for several hours
and I wasn’t expecting anyone. Least of all, an entrance through
the garage. The reverb stopped and started again while I made my
way down the hall.

I flipped on the light to the laundry room
before crossing to get to the garage and waited. Peering through
the crack of the doorway, an eerie feeling crawled up my spine. The
automatic garage door rolled up to completion, paused, and started
back down the iron track. There was no one is sight. The driveway
was empty. The only car was mine, parked in the usual spot
inside.

I tip-toed to my car and checked the visor
over the driver’s side. The remote opener was still in place. The
giant door touched the pavement and stopped before beginning to
noisily roll back up.

I checked the manual button panel on the
wall. The green and red lights were flashing. I moved closer to
inspect and noticed the main button was stuck in the ‘down’
position. Noah must’ve hit it too hard when he left earlier in the
morning. I worked the edge of my fingernail under the side and
tugged until it popped back up.

The garage door rolled up all the way and
stayed. After a minute of conscious waiting, I gently pressed it
again and watched the door roll down, checking to make sure it
stayed before locking up the garage on my way back inside.

Since I was already up and passing by, I
opened the washer and started a load. The dryer was full, too, so I
yanked out the clean clothes. I recognized the black elastic shape
of my belly belt sitting on the shelf over the dryer and slipped it
on under my maternity top. The elastic support helped with the back
aches. Bending now, with less discomfort, the last thing to come
from the dryer was one of Evan’s sweatshirts. Noah must have taken
it from one of his boxes still lining my bedroom wall. It didn’t
smell like him—like smoke and honey. It smelled like lavender
scented dryer sheets, but I tossed it on, pretending that wearing
his clothes wasn’t as pathetic as it seemed.

Sheri said she’d come back and get the
boxes, but she never did. After the incident at the hospital, she
stopped coming by. Her visits had picked up again, recently,
though. She called to apologize a few weeks ago and I accepted.
Still, his things were sitting there. Sheri never said much about
him, except in reference to the divorce papers, and that was always
a reluctant topic. She was never what I’d call an accessible
person, but she’d been very remote, lately. Mostly, she’d arrive
unannounced and sit on the couch in the formal living room, making
quiet observations about obvious things, and then leave after a few
minutes. I figured she was lonely.

Tired of the view in my room, I carried the
laundry basket on my hip to the couch in the family room. I
shouldn’t have been walking around, but my legs would cramp if I
didn’t move around a little every day.

Peeking out the kitchen door, I called for
Nigel. He came running from the side of the house and happily
hopped inside. I locked the glass door behind him and turned on
some music to fill the quiet, before sitting down on the couch to
fold. As I worked, I spotted the cordless receiver wedged between
two cushions and hopped up to set it on the charger.

The doorbell rang. Baby kicked me in the
ribs as I maneuvered to check the peephole.

Sheri was on my porch. And she was wearing
jeans. That was the first time I’d seen her dressed so casually,
aside from the one time at the hospital. I watched her walk from
the edge of the porch to the door and look directly into the
peephole as if she knew I was looking back.

I mumbled a command to heel at Nigel, who
seemed to have disappeared, and casually swung the door open.
“Sheri, what brings you by?”

Her eyes fell to my swollen belly before
straying up to my face. “May I come in?”

“Sure, pal.” The unintended sarcasm leapt
out as I stepped aside. If I hadn’t been exiled to the lonely
island, starved for interaction, I probably would have told her to
come back later.

She stepped in, slowly walking to the couch
to sit down. She patted the cushion next to her.

I sank into the chair across the room, being
careful with my back. I still had about three weeks until my due
date, but my belly was colossal and always in the way. So I had to
be careful where I sat, if I planned on getting up. Once my cheeks
felt the cushioned seat, I adjusted the elastic belt around my
tummy and leaned back awkwardly to breathe easier.

“You’re huge,” she said in a clipped tone,
and I knew it’s going to be one of those visits.

“You know, I never get tired of hearing
that,” I said, soft and polite. I took no offense at her honesty—I
mean come on, I was a cow—only that she was trying to use it to
hurt me. My pride would not give her the satisfaction. I crossed my
arms and waited.

She fidgeted for a second, messing with the
sleeve of her blouse, pulling at a thread.

“I assume this about the divorce
papers.”

“I was hoping to get some idea as to a time
frame, to get the ball rolling.”

“Evan and I will talk about it.”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to
happen.”

I’d been teetering on the edge of calling
him since my birthday. “You aren’t the only one who has his number,
you know.”

She leaned forward, “Grace, you and I both
know if you really wanted to talk to him, you would’ve done it
already. I came by, hoping to have a true conversation with you
and, well, it’s delicate.”

“Is it, now?”

“I thought things might be easier if you
knew why I’ve been so adamant lately.”

“Shoot,” I said, casually.

“He’s seeing someone.”

Three word-like bullets to the chest. I had
to remind myself to breathe. Pictures of him with a lot of
different girls were plastered everywhere. Some fans, but mostly
female costars. None of them proved he was involved with anyone. I
did my best to ignore them all.

“How does that relate to me?” I felt the
blood draining from my face and closed my eyes.

“I think he’s finally found his match. He’s
happier than I’ve ever seen him.” She smiled. “I think this will
finally work out for him, but only if you play your part.”

“By divorcing him.”

She nodded, and I don’t know if it was the
hormones or the fact that I just could not get along with her, but
I was furious.

“What makes you think you have any say
over what I do? You bear no responsibility for the choices I make.”
I fought my way from the chair and made for the door. It swung open
wide, waiting for her. “Once Evan and I speak, I’ll get the ball
rolling in whichever direction
I
see fit.”

She stood, adjusting her shirt as if it were
a waistcoat. “Grace, Grace.” Her tone was full of infuriating pity.
“Haven’t you figured it out?”

My temples pulsed.

Her eyes sparkled. “I assume he never told
you since you’ve shown no aversion to me, but I wondered why you
never asked about that night. See, I put up with you out of respect
for Evan, but we’re at the point where you need to know. You’re
having his child—against his wishes, I might add—and desperately
clinging to this pathetic fantasy that somehow you’ll get your
happy ending. But life and its rewards wait for no one. In this
world, you get what you take.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the one. I have been, for the past
seven years.”

I pulled back, feeling as if I’d been
slapped. “You’re the one he slept with?” And I understood what she
was saying and scoffed. “That’s crazy. You’re crazy!”

I don’t think she heard me. She was too busy
going on and on about some illicit affair the two of them were
having under my nose. It was so preposterous, my mind would not
even let me begin to consider the slimmest possibility. Her
intimations were fogged by my absolute, unconcerned disbelief.
Whatever her feelings for Evan were, they’d never given off a
romantic vibe.

I waited until she was done before asking,
“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe. Sign the
damn papers.” The tension of her command forced a chill up my
spine. “It’s a simple signature making the current conditions
official.”

“Does he even know you’re here?” I
don’t know what possessed me to ask the question, but her eyes
widened and I knew. I
knew
I
was onto something.

“You were never more than a conquest; and
Evan, he loves a challenge.”

“Bye, Sheri.” I waved towards the open
door.

“You think because you’re having a baby, it
means something? You’re nothing. A bad memory.”

“Leave.” I stomped my foot, at once appalled
and anxious. I wanted her out of my house as soon as possible.

She stalked closer as if she wanted to
steamroll me, swerving at the last second and heading out. The
second her keister cleared the threshold, I slammed the door and
locked it.

Heading towards the kitchen for some water,
the contemptuous sarcasm bled through. “Evan loves a challenge.” I
mocked in an exaggerated, nasally voice.

“I’m calling him!” I screamed at the empty
house.

I’d been up too long. My head was thumping.
I grabbed a baby aspirin from the kitchen cabinet to set under my
tongue.

I could be pretty stubborn, even
thick-headed sometimes, but her? I’d sooner believe he went back to
Gretchen. As a woman, you could sense when a man was attracted to
someone. There was a tangible force between the two. Sheri, for
some reason, was trying to make me think she was, or that
I
was the other woman? As opposed to
what? Her supposed secret goings-on with my husband? As Evan liked
to say, I call bullshit. The very idea was amusing. I would have
laughed if it wasn’t so nauseating. She just wanted me to divorce
him. The audacity. She’d been a constant annoyance, a thorn in his
side. One thing was for sure, she would never set foot in my house
again. Her whole game was just that—a game. A way to keep us from
talking so she could get what she wanted.

What did she want?

Lily thought she was in love with Evan. As
much sense as that would make, it didn’t feel right. Sheri was a
lot of things—controlling, nosey, calculating and overbearing—but
none of it seemed authentic. It was more like an image she
projected, a paper tiger. I’d spent a lot of time around her and
still, she was an enigma.

I could not consent to a divorce. Signing
was a self-betrayal on the most fundamental level. If Evan really
wanted it, he would have to be the one to file. The more Sheri
pushed, the more I doubted. If I could hear him say it, if I could
look at his face and see that he did not want anything to do with
us, then I would have to give him what he wanted. But as it was—and
it seemed my only hope—the only thing Evan had ever told me was
that he wouldn’t come back. The circumstances made me think that he
might have if I’d asked him to. As far as his outburst at the
hospital was concerned. . . I didn’t want to believe it. The vile
outrage in his voice didn’t make sense. And then I considered our
relationship, the way we communicated. Even when we argued, he
never got disrespectful. But he spoke to Sheri that way all the
time.

“There’s nothing between them.” I felt the
truth in the words.

That opened the door for a whole other set
of questions. Worries I could not afford right now. I’d tell Lily
all about it when she got home and ask her what she thought. For
now, I’d have to file the disturbing visitation away and set my
mind to more immediate matters, like laundry. And resting. After a
quick call to Marcus.

I plopped onto my bed and picked up the cell
phone, then set it down again. I’d get better reception on a
landline. I shuffled back to the kitchen, complaining to the empty
house. The pain in my head—a combination of hormones and high blood
pressure—got so bad, sometimes it confused me.

I took the phone from the cradle and dialed.
The line rang twice before a sleepy-sounding voice answered.
“‘Ello?”