Runaway Vampire (14 page)

“Me,” Dante growled. “And you are not useless.”

“No I'm not,” she agreed quietly. “But I didn't see that then.”

Mary took another sip of coffee before continuing.
“Of course, after his first outburst, Joe was very sweet. He was constantly at my bedside until I was released from the hospital, then took care of me at home.”

“Guilt,” Dante said shortly. “And he
should
have felt guilty.”

Mary just smiled wryly and went on, “He apologized for his affair with his secretary. Promised to have her transferred to work for someone else and swore it would never happen again. He said he could live with not having biological children so long as he had me. We'd adopt, or use a surrogate, whatever it took to make me happy. So, I said I forgave him and stayed.”

“But I didn't really,” Mary admitted in the next breath, and explained, “Forgive him, I mean. I was angry for a lot of years.” She grimaced. “We pretended all was well, and set about adopting children. A little boy first, and then a little girl. But things were not all right. I couldn't bear him touching me. I could hardly look at him. I know he had other affairs then, he warned me he would if I didn't stop treating him like a leper, but I didn't care. I was angry, at myself and at him, so I punished us both for it.”

She smiled wryly. “I'm surprised he didn't give up and divorce me. He didn't though. Joe told me years later that he felt he deserved the punishment. Anyway, while I was a horrible wife, I was a good mother, and we acted as if all was well for the sake of the children.”

Mary took another sip of coffee and then said, “We probably would have stayed like that till his death if
things had just continued as they were going. As it was it went on for fifteen years.”

“What happened to change things?” Dante asked with curiosity.

“I found out about one of his children. A son,” she said quietly. “An angry fourteen-year-old who showed up at our door one day. His mother had finally told him who his father was and he wanted to confront him. He was faced with me first.”

Mary peered down at her coffee mug. “I was furious. There I was unable to have children of my own and Joe had gone and had them with another woman. Not only that, but he'd just abandoned him. I didn't know what made me angrier. I hired a private detective to find out if there were any others and . . .” She paused and swallowed the bile rising up in her throat at the memory of how she'd felt when the detective had given his report. “Joe had at least four children by four different women that he knew of. The one boy I'd met, and three girls. There may have been more though; he couldn't be sure. But he was sure that Joe wasn't a part of their lives. He'd just been dropping his seed and leaving it to grow as he danced on to the next victim.”

Mary glanced to Dante and smiled wryly. “Joe admitted that most of the women he had affairs with had no idea he was married. He said a friend had helped with that. I'm guessing now that it was Dave, but Joe wouldn't tell me who it was at the time. I suppose that was to prevent me outing Dave to Carol. Joe would only say he was just a chum from work. But he told
me that they went out together to meet women, often double dating. A woman who met two male friends hanging out didn't imagine that he would be married and carry on an affair with his friend's knowledge. And his “chum” backed up any story he gave to explain why he couldn't see her at certain times, or why she hadn't met his family or any other friends.”

Mary shook her head with remembered disgust. “Of course, once the girlfriend started pushing for those kinds of things, it was time to end it and move on anyway in his mind. Or if she got pregnant,” she added grimly. “As far as Joe was concerned, birth control was the woman's problem and he always asked if they were on the pill when they started up. If she said no, he moved along. He wanted no chance of having to explain why he had condoms in his wallet when we weren't having sex. So, they were all supposed to be safe, and if a woman got pregnant, he was sure she was just trying to force him into marrying her. Joe claimed he offered to help with an abortion and if she refused, it was “sayonara sweetheart.”

“He really was a bastard,” Dante muttered.

“Yes,” Mary agreed solemnly, “And I was a total psycho bitch.”

“Mary!” He gaped at her with dismay, and she smiled slightly.

“I was,” she assured him. “I was making his home life as miserable as possible. For instance, he traveled a lot then and one time when he was gone for two months, I bought the kids a cat. Joe was deathly allergic to cats. But the kids had had it for two months by
the time he returned. He could hardly take it away from them then. He had to get an inhaler and start taking allergy shots twice a week just to be able to breathe at home. Joe hated shots.”

“Diabolical,” Dante said on a laugh.

“Hmm. I did other things as well.”

“Like what?” he asked with amusement.

Mary considered the various things and said, “Oh, if I knew he hated something, I made it a lot for meals, saying I was sure he'd said he'd liked it last time. If he liked something, I never made it again. I deliberately used his razors on my legs so the blade was always dull when he went to shave his face. I constantly washed his whites with reds to turn them pink. I bought him the loudest and ugliest patterned shirts and ties every birthday and Christmas and then acted wounded if he didn't wear them. And I used to cook him something with mushrooms in it as his meal before each flight. It didn't matter what, so long as it had mushrooms.”

When Dante glanced away from the road to give her a confused look, she explained with amusement, “Mushrooms gave Joe gas, you see. Which made the flight miserable for him. Gas expands as the plane climbs in altitude and causes terrible stomach pains.”

Dante's mouth dropped a little at this news, and then snapped shut. Turning back to the road he muttered, “Remind me not to anger you.”

Mary grinned faintly, but shrugged. “He was the only one I did those kinds of things to. I'm pretty sure I was a good mother. I worked very hard at it. And
I was perfectly lovely otherwise.” She pursed her lips and admitted, “I think getting all my aggression out on him made me much more patient with the children and everyone else.”

“Thank God,” Dante breathed.

“Yes, I could really have screwed up those children had I allowed my anger to stretch to them. Fortunately, torturing him was enough.” Mary paused and frowned and then admitted, “Although, I did influence their opinion of him a great deal. It was inevitable, of course. He was often away and I was always there. I shuttled them to school, practice, friends etc. And I never praised him to them. I didn't put him down either really. I mean I never said he was a lying, cheating louse or anything, but I did often use the term, “Oh, your
father
,” in that derogatory manner you really shouldn't use in regard to the other parent in front of children.” She made a face and admitted, “I'm pretty sure I undermined his position with them without even really trying.”

“But that may not have had much affect had he been there to spend time with them,” Dante pointed out reasonably. “Had he been there, they would have got to know him as his own person rather than the man who occasionally showed up at the house and the one you ‘oh, your fathered' about.”

“True, but then I didn't make his being home an attractive proposition,” she pointed out.

Dante frowned, but Mary continued before he could argue further. “As I say, that went on for years. Fifteen to be exact.”

“And then his son showed up at your door,” Dante said quietly.

Mary nodded and fell silent as the pain of that discovery washed over her anew. She loved her children and had considered them her own from the minute they'd been placed in her arms, but in that moment, looking at the young carbon copy of her husband . . . Mary thought she might have killed Joe if he'd been home at the time. But she knew without a doubt that after she'd heard what else the boy had to say, she definitely would have killed her husband had he been there.

D
ante glanced toward Mary with a frown. She'd quite suddenly gone silent, and considering the topic, he was concerned about her. After another moment passed in silence, he said gently, “You must have been very hurt.”

“Hurt?” she asked dryly, and then snorted. “I was freaking furious.”

Dante's eyes widened and he glanced quickly her way, taking note of her anger now just at the memory. She was nearly vibrating in her seat with it. Shifting his gaze back to the road, he cleared his throat and asked, “Because the boy was proof Joe was continuing to have affairs?”

“No,” she assured him. “Not about the affairs. I didn't give a rat's ass about the affairs by that point. I had been completely asexual since the miscarriage, shutting down that part of myself. What I cared about was his children. I was furious that he'd had them, and
paradoxically, furious that he hadn't been a part of their lives or taken any responsibility, even monetarily, for their existence.”

“Ah,” Dante murmured, and wasn't sure what to say to that.

Another moment of silence passed and then she announced, “I left him that afternoon. I packed up the kids and checked into a motel and made an appointment with a divorce lawyer, all by dinner.” She swallowed and then admitted, “But I never went to see the lawyer.”

“Why?” Dante asked at once, and when she didn't answer right away, glanced over to see that she was peering out the window at the passing scenery. Her expression was closed and he shifted his gaze back to the road, simply waiting.

After a moment, she sighed and said, “Carol came to see me at the motel. We were good friends even then. Dave and Joe often traveled together, and we were each other's support when they were gone. So, of course, I called her with the crushing news of Joe's betrayal. She came rushing to the motel and we talked and cried for hours. She thought I should leave him, of course,” Mary added wryly. “And then she gave me the number of a therapist her sister had been trying to get her to go see. She had no interest in counseling, but if I wanted the number . . .”

“Surprisingly, I did. I knew I was angry and had contributed at least somewhat to things, and I didn't want to carry that anger and self-destructive streak on out of the marriage and into any future relationships. So, I
called this therapist. Her name was Linda and she just happened to have a cancellation the next morning, so I went to see her. It was the best call I ever made.”

“Really?” he asked, and couldn't hide the doubt he was feeling on the subject. She had stayed with Joe, after all, something he thought was just wrong after everything the man had done. He would have thought a good therapist would have insisted she leave, not convince her to stay.

“Yes, really,” Mary assured him solemnly, and then explained, “Linda listened patiently to my tale of woe about my marriage. How he'd convinced me not to go on to further my education. How he'd cheated on me. How he'd refused to face me, forcing me to drive madly off and crash, and how he, how he, how he . . .” She let her voice trail off and then he heard her sigh and she said, “And then Linda asked if I'd even been in the marriage.”

“What?” he asked with confusion, casting another glance her way.

She smiled at his expression and admitted, “That was my reaction, but then she said that the way I told the story, I hadn't made a single decision or choice. Linda said I was taking the victim's role. That, yes, Joe had suggested I didn't need an education, but was it possible it was because he'd realized that I was unsettled about what to take and perhaps a little afraid and so had tried to make my decision easier by giving me the option to be a housewife? If I'd really wanted that education to fall back on, wouldn't I have spoken up about it and insisted? Even if only to take part-time courses to see
what I liked? After all, as I'd told her, he was making good money, and I wasn't pregnant for the first three years of our marriage. I could have taken courses until we were blessed with that baby if I'd really wanted to. Wouldn't he have allowed that?”

Mary paused and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her coffee cup for a sip. After swallowing, she continued. “I had to admit that yes, he probably would have been fine with that. And she said, so, I hadn't really been interested or wanted a degree. He hadn't forced me not to go on to further my education.”

“Hmm,” Dante murmured. “I suppose she is right.”

“Yes, well that was the first of the revelations,” Mary said wryly. “By the time I left her office, I was thinking less like a victim, and acknowledging my part in things. I had told even myself that I wanted my marriage to work, but my actions said something else entirely. In truth, I hadn't wanted Joe back as a partner; I'd wanted to punish him pure and simple. And I had. I'd got exactly what I'd wanted,” she said wryly. “And then Linda made me begin to question Joe's motives in all of this. Why had he put up with my punishing him? Why had he stayed married to me when I offered him nothing but food he disliked, a cat he couldn't breathe around, and children who grew increasingly distant from him? What had been in it for him?”

“She suggested I put off the divorce, and that we work together first, her and I, and once we got to a space where I felt comfortable, bring in Joe for couples counseling.”

“I was sure Joe would never agree to couples counseling,” she admitted quietly. “But I was wrong. We set the divorce aside. I moved back to the house with the kids and he got a temporary apartment close to work while I started therapy. But it wasn't long before my whole attitude was changed and I was able to see things more clearly. And then the couples counseling started. I found out the first session that after I'd spoken to him about the couples counseling, Joe had called Linda and asked if he could see her one-on-one like I was doing. So he'd been working too. We both knew what our motivations were, and understood what we'd each been doing, and it was just a matter of admitting it to each other, and finding out a way to deal with each other without falling into old patterns.”

“And what was he doing?” Dante asked dryly. “Aside from having affairs at every turn?”

“Joe hadn't intended on having the first affair,” Mary said quietly. “That had developed over long hours together working a project. He said he knew he should have arranged for her to be transferred the moment he realized what was happening, but he'd been afraid of looking stupid or weak at work. It had been a mistake.”

“I'll say,” Dante muttered.

“No one's perfect,” she repeated solemnly. “And there were extenuating circumstances. We'd been married three years when I finally got pregnant. I expected it would happen right away, but it didn't. It took three years, so for three years I was just a housewife, cleaning house and cooking meals and getting comments from friends and family like didn't I want to do anything?
Didn't I feel I should stop being a burden to Joe and get a job?” She paused and then admitted, “It wasn't very good for my self-esteem. I felt like a failure because I wasn't getting pregnant and started having problems with depression. I doubt I was great fun to live with after the first year or so.”

“That does not—” Dante began, but she continued over him.

“Then when I finally did get pregnant? Well . . . I was over the moon, of course, and sick as a dog. I spent more time hanging over the toilet than anything else. Joe used to come home from work to a mess, no food and would spend hours just rubbing my back and holding my hair out of the way as I threw up. My doctor said he'd never seen such a bad case of morning sickness. Which is a misnomer by the way, it was morning, noon and night sickness.”

“Then Joe had a big project come up. If it was a success, he'd get a promotion. If not . . .” She shrugged. “He started working late hours on it, probably partially because he needed to, but maybe also a little to avoid coming home to my misery.”

“And he started the affair with his secretary,” Dante said quietly and glanced over to see her nod in response. His mouth tightened as he shifted his eyes back to the road, and he growled, “You were carrying his child, Mary, and apparently very sick in doing so. It is not okay that he had an affair.”

“Oh, of course it isn't,” she agreed. “Don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying it was okay that he had the affair. He should have talked to me. I was so mis
erable myself; I didn't realize how miserable he was. He should have suggested I see a specialist and see if anything could be done about the nausea. Or, he could have suggested I get a friend or family member in to help me. Or found any other way to handle it. But he didn't. He had the affair. That was his choice, and what he had to live with afterward.”

“My choice was in what I did when I began to suspect he might be having an affair. I didn't talk to him either. I too turned to someone else and hired a private detective. And then when the detective gave me that address, I chose to go to the motel and catch him rather than simply confront him with the information when he came home. And when he didn't satisfy my need for confrontation and my “Ah ha!” moment at the motel, I was the one who drove out of there like a maniac, straight into a semi.”

“Most of my anger was at myself for doing that, but I buried it under my anger at him and blamed him for everything. He, in turn, felt guilty about his part in it and so let me punish him for the next fifteen years rather than leave me to find a healthier relationship and happiness. He even refused to see his own biological children because he felt that would be the ultimate betrayal.”

“The affairs were not?” Dante asked with disbelief.

“The first one was, but after that, as I said, I wanted nothing to do with him in that area. He figured I didn't care anymore if he slept around, but acknowledging and being a part of the life of a child he'd had a part in creating when I couldn't have children anymore . . . ?
To him, that seemed like the ultimate betrayal. Especially when he felt guilty for his part in the accident that caused the miscarriage and my inability to have those children. He felt like he'd ruined everything, especially me. And I felt the same way. So I punished him, and he took it. But it was a punishment for me too. I wasn't any happier than he was.”

“And yet you stayed together,” he said grimly.

“We almost didn't,” she admitted. “I mean, when I realized how much time I had wasted on punishing us both . . . And I think he felt the same way. Like we'd done enough damage. But Linda suggested we at least see if anything could be salvaged. We'd been in love once. Could we get past the hurt of the past and find that love again?”

“She sounds like a quack to me,” he said abruptly, anger sliding through him for everything she'd been through. Mary was a beautiful, smart, and caring woman. She should have been loved and cherished, not cheated on and betrayed and that quack counselor should have said as much and encouraged her to get the hell away from Joe Winslow.

“Joe said the same thing,” Mary said with a chuckle. “He'd liked her until then, but that suggestion convinced him she was a quack and he said it to her face. She just smiled and asked, “What's wrong? Are you afraid? Besides, what have you got to lose? If it doesn't work, you divorce, just a couple months or so later. But if it works . . .”

“So, we both agreed to give it a try with her counseling. He continued to live in the apartment and we
started to have dates that we then dissected in her office during our appointments.” Mary sighed. “At first, it was hard. There were still a lot of emotions to work through, but she helped us get through them. And eventually, we started to find each other again, but this time it was better.”

Dante couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice as he asked, “How?”

“I'd always looked up to Joe and kind of put him on a pedestal,” she said, trying to explain. “First he was the “senior boy” to my freshman in high school, and then he went and got his degree while I didn't, and then he got the big impressive job while I was a housewife. In my mind, we weren't so much a couple as he was the star and I was just the supporting cast,” she admitted quietly. “But after everything that happened, he was no longer on that pedestal. He was just Joe. On top of that, I realized that I needed to boost my self-esteem and think more of myself, so I started taking classes at the university.”

Dante glanced to her with surprise. “In what?”

Mary hesitated, rolled her eyes and then admitted, “psychology.”

His head swiveled toward her, his eyebrows flying up in surprise and she shrugged helplessly.

“I wanted to better understand myself so I didn't mess up again,” she admitted wryly, then added, “And I wanted to help others who might be going through the same things I had. Joe and I had wasted so many years on useless emotions we didn't even understand.” Mary was silent for a minute, then sighed, and said,
“So I got a bachelor's, then a master's, then went on for my doctorate.”

“You're a
doctor
?” he gasped, unable to hold back his shock. That surprised the hell out of him. He'd got used to the idea of her being the housewife she kept talking about. This news was a bit surprising.

“Dr. Winslow, psychologist, at your service,” Mary said lightly with a nod, and then admitted, “It took me a while to get it. I was thirty-four when I started taking courses, and that first term I only took a couple classes. But then I started going full time, and even taking summer courses and I got my doctorate just before turning forty-four.”

Dante didn't care how long it had taken; it was damned impressive.

“A psychologist,” he said with a smile. “Nice.”

They were both silent for a minute, then he glanced to her and teased, “So how does a psychologist end up with body issues?”