Homefires (56 page)

The voices continued, “...it’s too soon, Kirk. She needs time to....”

“...worried about her. She’s not eating and...acts out of it.”

Anger stirred, then buzzed like hornets. “Hey!” I yelled. “I’ve got ears! I’m not going to melt like sugar in a rainstorm,
ya’ll.
And I’m not crazy.
Not yet.
”

The front door slammed and Kirk returned to the den, his eyes clouded with concern and a touch of fear. “Honey, you’ve got it all wrong about Cal. She’s worried about you, too. And – ”

“I know. I know,” I snapped. “I just want everybody to stop – acting like I’m a time bomb, set to blow into tiny bits.”

He dropped down beside me, curving to face me and lean in, so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. My body responded. That he had the power to sway me after such a betrayal proved something terrible was wrong with me. Was I so unlovable I grasped at crumbs?

“Neecy?” Kirk spoke softly, his finger running over my shoulder, neck, ear. Goosebumps scattered all over me. I didn’t look at him. Wasn’t ready to. Humiliation stirred thickly in me. And need. I hated it. Anger began to rise again.

“Neecy, have you thought –
prayed
about staying here in Solomon? Could you find it in your heart to stay here, where we could work together here in the church and – ”

It was the desperation in his voice that pushed me over the edge.

My head whipped around. “I can’t, Kirk,” I said firmly because suddenly, I knew it was true. “That’s one thing I
am
certain of.” I turned from the pain in his eyes. Had to. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I can’t stay here.”

Where rumors run rampant about the preacher and that woman who was murdered.
I couldn’t face the pity in folks’ eyes. Worse still, the contempt, because if he was running around, something
had
to be wrong with his wife, doncha know? I’d said it myself – not about Tillie, however – but the old adage of two sides to everything now haunted me.

I’d already seen it, this morning in church. In Zelda and Alton Diggers’ not so subtle, measuring gazes. And others of their clan had cast knowing looks from me to Kirk and back.

“’Know what Sarah said to me this morning?” I asked in a weak whisper.

I felt Kirk stiffen. Then, a quiet, “what?”

“She said, ‘
why you losing so much weight, Janeece?’
I told her I’d been so busy lately, I’d forget to eat.”

She knew. Deep down, Sarah – skeptic that she was – knew. She wouldn’t have taken Callie’s word on Kirk’s innocence, with such juicy evidence as she’d collected. It was only a matter of time before it blew up in Kirk’s denial-face. I didn’t want my children subjected to such shame and disillusionment. They didn’t need to lose respect for their father. He was a good father.

Above all, I wanted to protect the children.

And to do that, I had to keep my sanity.

Okay, so the Prince of darkness had found my Achilles heel. It had always been there, the hidden, unlovable part of me. But I’d always managed to juggle my self-worth while
capitulating to Kirk’s wishes, to his dreams. I’d been his appendage, his cheerleader. I’d helped him row his boat all these years.

Now, it was time for me to paddle my own canoe to a safe shore.

I can survive this. I will survive this.
It wasn’t Kirk telling me. It was
m
e telling me.

What a marvelous discovery: I trusted me to make my own decisions. Something I’d not done before.

“Are you going to leave me, Neecy?”

I looked at him, my husband, his eyes bottomless pools of green pain, the most gorgeous specimen of manhood I’d ever known. And I knew I loved him with every fiber of my being and nothing would ever change that. Another thing I knew: I could no longer entrust my welfare to another mortal.

“I’m leaving Solomon, Kirk. If you want to come with me, that’s fine. If you don’t, I’m going, anyway. Because I can’t live here. What we had here is gone. I don’t want to leave Krissie behind, but someday in the future, her grave can be moved. Life here is spoiled for me. For us. It could never be the same. Too many bad memories.” Fatigue caught up with me. Somewhere between words, I’d grown limp and it took great effort to talk. “I’m weary of fighting. Life shouldn’t be all battles. There has to be peace somewhere.”

Kirk had moved closer as I spoke, I felt his breath stir my hair. “Neecy, I can’t lose you. That’s all I know.” He pulled me into his arms and held me so tight I could feel his rapid pulse. His was an embrace of desperation, of devotion and respect and, God help me, worship. “Whatever happens,” he murmured, “we’re together.”

It was something I’d have given my kingdom for years back.

Today, it came at too great a cost.

“Let me help,” Callie insisted, hovering hesitantly in Toby’s bedroom doorway, watching me purge his closet of toys he’d not played with for at least three years. I’d just finished emptying the drawers in my room, knowing soon, we’d be moving and this had to be done. Another thing was, it kept me busy
working off this new humming energy, one fed by anything remotely wired to anger.

“I’ll be moving out tomorrow,” she said inanely, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.

When I didn’t reply, Cal grabbed an empty plastic garbage bag and began to stuff discarded items into it. A week had passed since Kirk’s stunning revelation. Callie had given me space to work through things, had not pressed me one way or another in my dealing with Kirk, though I felt her sympathy was more with him than me. It didn’t matter.

“Women have more to give than men,” was her pat blanket for most marital conflicts.

So, she’d simply gone about her business when I visited my husband’s office for one reason or another. My old compliance had done an abrupt about-face. The Janeece of old would never have appeared during working hours without a valid reason, simply out of respect for the Pastor’s office. Now, my esteem for its sovereignty was jaded.

“Neecy,” Callie paused to set down her bulging bag, tighten its drawstring and plop down onto Toby’s cluttered bed, “We need to talk.”

Ice water trickled into my belly and I cast her a sidelong glance as I sorted through old ball gloves and worn-out balls. “So, shoot.”
No more revelations, please.

She leaned forward to rest elbows on denimed knees and cup her chin in her hands. “Why don’t you talk to me about it, Neecy?” she asked softly. “We used to talk about everything. Remember?”

“Yeah,” I turned the frayed basketball over and over in my hands before tossing it aside. “That was before I knew there wasn’t a Santa Claus.” I looked at her then. “You were the one who told me. Remember?”

She gave a tiny huff of a laugh. “Yeah. I remember.” Her dark eyes grew misty, faraway. She shifted to lean back against the pillow-garrisoned headboard, deep in thought. I resumed my task, ignoring the silence, glad for it. Finally, she said, “When did we stop?”

I tumbled the ball bat into the ‘SAVE’ box. “Stop what?”

“Talking to each other.”

My hands idled and I thought for a long moment. “When you started dating.”

“Really?” She looked astonished. “That long ago?”

“Um hum.” I pitched a Hopewell Methodist ball cap into the box with the bat.

“You know why?” she asked, stretching out her legs on the bed and crossing her bare feet at the ankles. “Because I didn’t want you to know how bad a person I was.”

I snorted, a little too sharply. “I got the idea you didn’t worry about
what
I thought of you, Cal. Or what anybody else thought, for that matter.” I tore into the pile of sweats.

I heard her long sigh. “I didn’t think I gave a rip in those days. But later – after being hurt so dreadfully by a man I thought would always love me – I realized I was so angry, it ate me alive. I went along that way through two marriages...and then I met Jack Farentino.”

I slid to prop my tired back against the far wall, facing her. “Bad, huh?” It helped – as she knew it would – to focus on someone else’s problems, if only temporarily.

“He made the other two look like Mary’s little lambs.” She slowly shook her thick mane and lowered her gaze to mine. “It nearly destroyed me. If I hadn’t come here and—oh, well,” she shrugged, “the rest is history, as they say. Thing is – in God, I found the strength to forgive Jack for – ”

“Whoa.” I lifted a palm toward her as my chin fell onto my chest. “I’m not ready for all this just yet. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Callie. I just – I’m still numb in places. And the other places scream in pain and rage. I’ve got to – ”

“Listen, Neecy,” she scooted into upright, tailor position, elbows planted on thighs, eyes level with mine, “I’ve got just one more thing to say to you...Kirk is a good man.”

I closed my eyes against the jagged lance. “I – know....”

“Honey,” Cal struggled for words, and sighed with frustration. “All I’m saying is, I was there when Roxie put the make on him. Kirk didn’t have a clue. Oh, he was sorta flattered. He couldn’t help but be, it’s human nature. But his main concern was to help her through Moose’s vamoose. I know that. Problem was Roxie didn’t. She used tears like a machine gun and – ”

“Stop.” I took a long, deep breath and blew it out. “Please, Cal – no more.” I rolled my head back and flexed my neck from side to side, hoping to dispel the dizziness crashing over me as this discussion progressed. “As for forgiving Kirk – I think I can. It’s just – so fresh. Everything.”

Callie leaned forward, an earnest appeal stamped over her lovely features – a beauty that, for the first time ever, stirred me to uneasiness.
Jealousy is a terrible, terrible thing, Neecy....

I looked at her then, forced myself to remember that she was my friend.
Callie, for heaven’s sake!
I felt the thing curled inside me slither to a dark corner.

“Neecy, Kirk didn’t know. He didn’t know what Roxie was capable of...not until it was too late. He was so innocent...I work with him and know him. I tell you,
He was like a lamb led to the slaughter.
”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. It was too, too graphic. Callie could sit here and talk about my husband with an objectivity that ripped me to shreds.

I threw my head back and leveled her an angry look. “I’m sorry, Cal, but this is not something I can be as detached about as you can. Kirk and I never – well, we were the first, the
only ones
with each other. That’s like,” I grimaced and spread my hands in search of apt words to describe our exclusivity, “a gift. The greatest treasure you can give one another. To lose that....” My voice trailed off, and I stared unseeing out the window as the leaded sickness settled inside me again.

“I do understand, Neecy, but you – ”

“No.” My gaze whipped to her. “You
don’t
understand, Cal. I’m sorry, but you haven’t a clue as to what I’ve lost. I know you feel I’m not giving Kirk the consideration – ”

Callie was on her feet in a blink, in the doorway, squared off, “Seems you’ve already decided what I’m thinking. So, since you’ve got it all figured out, I won’t explain myself any further. I’ll be moving this weekend. If you need me, you know my phone number.” With that, she vanished in a puff of the old Callie-grandeur.

I sat there for a long time, trying to make sense of my relief that she would soon be gone. That I wouldn’t have to face
anybody who
knew
, who analyzed and sifted and threw back at me what I needed to do or needed not to do. What I should or shouldn’t be. Fact was I had no more control over
now
than I’d had over
then.
Few would understand that. Least of all Callie, who hadn’t treasured monogamy a day in her life. Not to say she wasn’t a changed person, but even so, she had no exclusive relationship experiences from which to draw and compare with mine.

I crawled onto Toby’s bed, curled into a ball and shut my eyes against what had happened, still happened daily, to my world. It was a situation in which I found myself isolated,
wanted
to be isolated. I trusted no one, yet, to impart wisdom to me. Women, my former
sisterhood
, posed threats as base as breathing and gender. Men, were they truly so fragile? Oh, I didn’t slide completely off into the deep, but I wrestled – oh, crazy pun – oceans of new notions

I never consciously moved away from God. I’d simply crash-landed so far removed from Him that I knew not in which direction to begin searching for Him.