Discovering Normal (28 page)

“Okay,” Chris said and backed against the door to allow Danielle
by
. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Beth said and then Chris used every ounce of strength he had to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” Danielle said behind him. “That must be odd.”

What the hell?
His life was made up of oddities. Always had been. Maybe that’s why he’d failed as a husband when he hadn’t even known he was flunking. “Here.” He handed her the small-framed photos of the kids.

Danielle took them in her fingernail polished hand. “Oh boy, does your son ever look like you!”

Chris ran a hand through his hair and reached for the scotch. “Yeah.”

“But your daughter…” Danielle looked up and then handed the frame back. “She looks like your wife.”

“Yeah,” he said again, poured a shot and downed it.

“I think I’ll call that cab from the lobby.”

She was definitely as smart as she was good looking. “Probably a good idea.”

“Nice to have met you and Merry Christmas.”

Chris raised the glass as a toast to what he wasn’t sure. “Same to you.”

Danielle peeked around the door panel and then turned back his way. “She’s not out here to see that I’m leaving. Maybe you should make sure that she knows.” She smiled and he realized that not all politicians were jerks.

The door closed gently and Chris sat on the arm of a chair, glancing between the falling snow on the opposite side of the balcony and the pictures of his kids--smiling, happy, unaware.

Chris downed the last of his scotch, snatched his passkey and trotted down the hall to Beth’s room. At least he hoped it was her room, but his training had stressed the power of observation and he was pretty sure this door had been ajar when he’d spotted Beth at the ice machine. He knocked, sucked in a breath and then knocked again.

A moment later it slid open and her round eyes--so clear, so classy, so green--looked back.

“I couldn’t remember your parents’ number off the top of my head.”

“Would you like me to write it down?”

“Sure.”

She extended the door and he stepped inside, hearing it click closed behind him. Her room was identical to his, right down to the framed wildflower prints above the beds. She started to jot something and then looked up. “You could just call from in here. I never got the chance to talk with Audrey. She was taking a bath.”

Beth reached for the receiver, covered it with her palm and waited.

“Okay,” he said and watched her expertly punch in the numbers. It wasn’t long until she made contact and he listened to her asking for and then talking to their four-year-old as if she were the only person in the world. “Here’s Daddy,” Beth said then and extended him the phone.

He took it and could smell the faint hint of jasmine that clung to the receiver. He talked his way through the conversation, though Audrey didn’t make it hard. She chattered on about Christmas, dolls, tea sets and snow before giving the phone to Noah who sounded a little too excited that
both of
his parents were actually in the same room.

“See you really soon,
”
Chris said before he hung up the phone.

Beth stood with her arms crossed, gazing out at the tumbling snow. How could it feel so much like old times, but yet so different and awkward and confusing at the same time?

Beth turned ever so slightly. “Glad you got a chance to catch up with him. He really wanted to talk with you.”

Chris shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Wanted me to give him the exact time and which day we’d make it ice fishing.”

Beth smiled and flicked on a nearby light. “He has this huge calendar and he’s marking off the days until he gets there. Then he drew little pictures in each square for things that you’ll do when he arrives.” Her smile was so warm, so friendly. “Do you think he’ll allow your daughter a few minutes of your time?”

Chris shrugged. “She can tag along.”

“Audrey on ice? I don’t think so. Not unless she has tiny skates.”

Their eyes locked, stayed. “She’d be okay,” he managed to mumble.

Beth took a step toward him and then sat down on the edge of the bed covered with an ugly maroon-colored spread. “Chris, I wanted to say--”

But for some reason he couldn’t listen. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I want to. I want to say that I’m sorry for so much.”

“You saved my life.”

She lowered her head to look at her folded hands and then shook it. “I was a real coward. I was
scared;
I didn’t believe I could make a difference.”

“Are you talking about the siege or our lives?”

She looked up; glistening eyes, tousled hair, bare lips that drew him in every single damn time. “I’m not sure.”

He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “You did good, Beth.”

She stood up and shoved her hands into her flannel pockets. The tee shirt came untucked with the movement and Chris caught an inviting glimpse of her navel.

“I had such a hard time believing that you’d take your life.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know. I went to the house after Deej called. It was strange, but there were things that I just knew.”

He swallowed, waited.

“I know you slept with Anita Borden.”

Chris sighed a heavy sigh and shook his head. Did she understand desperation? Did she understand the need to do
something
so the hurt would go away for an instant? “What do you want from me, Beth?”

A tear trickled then. She didn’t move to swat it, just let it fall and dangle at her dainty jaw. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I miss you.”

He couldn’t listen, couldn’t stay to hear it. He turned to the door, but she’d moved to catch his arm.

“Did you hear me?”

She was so close now he could see her, feel her, smell her. He remembered all too well what it was like to taste her. “I heard you.”

Beth released his arm, but didn’t move away. “I think it would be good if we talked. If we both got the chance to explain some things.”

How could she possibly
not
know what he’d felt, what he’d
always
felt? He shook his head though he wasn’t completely aware of it. “There’s nothing to say.”

“We just went through a life
-
altering experience. There must be
something
you can think of to say to me.”

Chris gripped the doorknob because he didn’t trust himself to let go. “You want my thanks for going in and pulling me out? Thank you.”

“No, I don’t want that. You did the same for me once, and I hope you’d have done it again if the
situation was
reversed and it was me inside.”

“I would.”

“I know.”

They just looked at each other like they were strangers instead of a man and a woman who had loved beyond reason and limits and then crashed beyond time.

“I hate fucking games,” he muttered.

“Please,” she said and he didn’t have a clue what it meant.

She neared him, reaching out this time--touching his cheeks, his eyes, as if she’d never touched them before. Her fingers laced through his hair and then paused to give the gold stud he’d slid back into his lobe a tug.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, far needier sounding than he would’ve liked.

“Do what?” she whispered back as her hands explored him, lifted his face so their gazes met.

“Don’t screw with me, Beth.”

“I’m not. I just want a take-back.”

“A take back?”

“I want to tell you what I felt and what we can do to change things.”

And then he laughed because it was so typical. Chris backed up to break the contact. “You want to tell me what I could’ve done to make you happy?”

“I didn’t mean--”

“No, you never mean it, do you, Beth? You just say it. It just runs out because all you know how to do is blame other people for the way you’re feeling.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it’s not what you meant, but it’s the truth. You’re still just a spoiled little rich girl who thought she could have some fun slumming with a guy who, when you get right down to it,
is
really nothing more than a
cop from
Philly. But you stuck around too long and played one too many hands. You ended up with kids and demands and not a tiara in sight.”

It was evident a slap couldn’t have hurt her more. She just stood
there, staring
in utter disbelief. “Is that what you really think of me?”

            Chris couldn’t answer because he wasn’t really sure. He turned to the door, fumbled with the lock and was in the corridor in seconds--the swarthy jewel tones and winking vending machines filling his senses.

What the hell had he wanted, expected, hoped? He stumbled toward his own door, three down the way, and wondered if George and Deej were in the two between them. It seemed fitting somehow for the man who’d wedged inside
of
their marriage
to
be wedged between them now.

“Chris!”

She was calling him and she probably wasn’t going to stop. A door down the corridor opened and a
man
peeked out, only to shut it again just as quickly.

“Chris! Come back!” she called.

He turned and saw her there, disheveled hair that was generally perfectly styled, flannel pants, rumpled tee shirt, gleaming eyes. God help him if he took even one step back.

“Get back here!”

“No.”

“Stop acting like a child and come talk to me.”

He stood at the door, passkey in hand. “Go to bed, Beth,” he said as he turned to the lock.

And then she was next to him. She’d stomped down the hall
way
, allowing her door to swing shut behind her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Since I just locked myself out of my room, I’m coming in
to
yours to call the desk.”

“That was a pretty dumb-ass thing to do.”

She raised a sculpted brow. “So was darting away instead of finishing a conversation.”

Chris sucked in
a breath and exhaled. The same guy
opened h
is
door and peered out again.
Chris
had two choices; he could let Beth in or allow her to make a spectacle in the hall. He yanked the door and nudged her through. “There’s the phone.”

Beth crossed her arms. She looked almost childlike and so innocent with her hair still wildly escaping her crude ponytail, but indignant fire was blazing in her eyes. “I want to talk to you.”

And then he was pissed. “There is nothing to talk about! Thank you for saving my life, I’ll give you your divorce, we’ll decide on the best situation for the kids. I just said it all in like eight seconds flat
!
”

“You
always
do this. You always reduce everything down so I’ll look foolish.”

Chris lunged for the receiver and thrust it her way. “Call the goddamn desk.”

“No.”

“Then I will.” He started wildly punching in the number.

Beth reached out and disconnected. “I’ve told George that I don’t want to see him anymore. I was misleading him.”

Chris looked up, still holding the phone in his hand. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”

She sat down on one bed with a soft plop. “I don’t know.”

He set the receiver back in its cradle. “I don’t know either.”

She looked up, eyes misty and blue and sad and confused. “What happened to us?”

Chris sat down on the opposite bed.  “I’ve never known.”

“We have great kids.”

He nodded. “We do.”

“And we still weren’t happy.”

“
You
weren’t happy, Beth.”

“And you were? You
liked
the two extremes of silence or bickering?”

“I was just living my life. I thought it was what we both wanted. One day you were miserable and you never tried to work through it.”

Her dainty hand flew to her chest. “I never tried? I
begged
you to go to counseling, I
begged
you to work less--”

Chris stood up in one swift move. “What the hell is this proving?”

“We’re on the verge of a divorce and we’ve never discussed anything.”

“
You’re
the one who ran away. You’re the one who found someone else.”

She hopped up too. “I didn’t find someone else! He just sensed that I was unhappy and he listened to me, Chris.”