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Authors: Haywood Smith

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women

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BOOK: Wife-In-Law
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W
orn out from the long flight from L.A., I left Mama’s in time to get home before dark.
I always hate coming home to a stale, stuffy house after a trip, especially to find my ex-husband’s car parked across the street in my widowed best friend’s driveway. Especially when he’s cheerfully cutting the grass in the ninety-degree heat, something he never did at my house, regardless of the temperature.
He actually had the nerve to wave at me as I turned into my driveway.
What a hypocrite.
I just ignored him and kept right on going.
If Greg was willing to go to those lengths to impress Kat, she must not be sleeping with him yet. Not that I cared if she did, except for the fact that she might catch something from him.
Perversely, I wondered if my presence would be there with them when they finally did get down and dirty.
An evil smile overtook me as I wondered if Kat liked it quick, with no foreplay. I had, because Greg was the only man I’d ever slept with, but that didn’t apply to Kat.
I wondered if Zach’s presence would be in bed with them too.
Served Greg right, if it was.
I pulled into the garage, then closed the door behind me and got out to the smell of hot, oily metal from the car. Lugging my suitcases out of the trunk, it occurred to me that it might be fun to ask Greg to come do it for me. But I decided it would be even more fun to ask him to cut
my
grass—in front of Kat. See how long this Mr. Fixit façade lasted when I asked him to do something nice for me, for a change.
Entering my house, I was greeted by two weeks’ worth of hot, stale air.
“Whoa.” My personal thermostat shot to boiling, so I made straight for the AC control and adjusted it from eighty to sixtyeight. While I waited for things to cool down, I gulped two bottles of cold spring water, then went to freshen up. After much blotting, I renewed my undereye concealer, lipstick, and mascara. No need for blush in this weather. I was red as the beefsteak tomatoes in my vegetable patch.
Looking human again, I gulped down another cold water, then headed across the street in the sweltering dusk.
I hadn’t reached the sidewalk at Kat’s before she came out to see what was up. I waved to her and called over the lawn mower, “Congratulations!”
Seeing Kat, Greg pulled out the earplugs to his iPod and followed her line of sight to me. Immediately, his features congealed.
Good. He ought to be wary. I knew the sordid truth about his desertion, things I hadn’t even told Kat because they were too humiliating. Clearly, Greg hadn’t shared them with her either. He always had been able to erase unpleasant realities from his mind, especially when they got between him and what he wanted.
Not that it was my business to tell Kat the gruesome details. She knew what he’d done to me, but still wanted him anyway. Maybe Greg’s flexible memory was contagious.
I passed him with a friendly wave and greeted Kat with a cheery, “Hey.”
“Hey.” She watched with suspicion as I climbed the stairs.
Boy, had he brainwashed her. I smiled. “Amelia tells me you two are going to get married.”
Defensive, Kat started up with, “Now, Betsy. We’ve been through all this already. Greg’s gotten right with God. He’s not the same man he was.”
“And glory hallelujah, thank God for it,” I said as sincerely as I could manage. I waved again to Greg, who abandoned the lawn mower in concern and headed our way. “I think I’ll wait till Greg gets here to tell y’all both what I came over to tell you.”
Kat’s suspicion deepened. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”
It hurt to see she didn’t trust me anymore. She’d find out the hard way about the man he really was. But that was her problem, not mine. I was just glad he had somebody to look after him, so the girls wouldn’t have to worry about him.
Panting from the heat, Greg wiped his face with a spotless linen handkerchief as he approached. In spite of his sweat-soaked T-shirt, he draped a possessive arm across Kat’s shoulders. “So. What brings you here, Betsy?”
I looked at them both, amazed at how peaceful I felt. “I’ve just come to congratulate Greg and wish you both the best.”
Their mouths almost dropped open.
“I mean it.” I turned to Kat. “Kat, honey, I hope you have every good and gracious thing together.” Not that I believed they would, but I could hope. “You deserve it.”
Greg tightened his arm around Kat, unconvinced, but she pulled free of him and hugged me gingerly. “Thanks, Betsy. That means a lot to me.”
God bless her. She’d need it.
Heck, maybe Greg really
had
changed. That would be even better. Kat would be happy, and Greg might cut my grass sometimes. Lord knows, Kat was welcome to him. After what he’d done to me, I certainly didn’t want him anymore.
Now for the fun part.
I leaned toward Kat in earnest. “Would you like for me to walk him down the aisle and give him away with my blessing?” I asked. “Because I’d be delighted to, really.”
The look on their faces was worth a million.
“It would make things so much easier on the kids,” I said, “don’t you think?”
Greg frowned in disapproving confusion. Kat pursed her lips, nostrils flaring, and bit out, “I don’t think so.”
Boy, was it good to be over my ex. “Okay. Whatever you want.” I started for home, leaving them frozen in consternation. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.” I stopped at the edge of the porch. “Oh, and Greg, while you’ve got the lawn mower out, would you mind doing my yard too? My lawn mower’s on the fritz.” True.
He scowled. “Sorry, but Kat’s is about all I can handle.”
I pretended to be disappointed. “Oh. The thing is, I can’t find anybody to come fix mine. They all want me to bring it to them, and there’s no way I can get it into my trunk.” I used my best poor-pitiful-me face. “But if you can’t, you can’t. I was just thinking about the neighbors. Don’t want my yard to be the sore spot on the block.”
Kat elbowed him. “Greg, do it,” she whispered sharply. “She needs help.”
Greg did what Greg did best: he balked. “Sorry. No can do.” He grabbed Kat by the elbow and dragged her into the house, leaving the lawn mower sputtering in the yard.
Suppressing a smile, I turned and went home without looking back.
Once there, I went straight for the snacks and the white zinfandel, then sat eating chips and salsa, sipping my wine and thanking God that I didn’t have to take care of anybody but myself for the moment.
After I unpacked and went to bed, I said my prayers for the girls and my grandchildren, then added, “And God, please help Greg be the man Kat deserves. She’s already so hurt from losing Zach.” My spoiling had helped make Greg the selfish jerk he was, but Kat didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of. Greg’s lingering hostility to me kept me from believing his sudden conversion. He was simply doing whatever it took to get Kat to take care of him. “Please, God, protect her.”
Leaving it on God’s doorstep, I rolled over and went to sleep, then ruined everything by having an erotic dream about my ex at four in the morning. I was so mad when I woke up, I wanted to call his cell phone and cuss him out. Only good sense kept me from doing it.
After all, it wouldn’t do to tell
him.
He’d gloat forever.
Why had I let him into my dreams? Was just seeing him enough to trigger it? Lord, I hoped not.
Lying there in the dark, I wondered how I was going to manage, day in and day out, with Greg across the street.
How can you move on with your ex married to your best friend across the cul-de-sac? But Greg was a creature of habit who hated change, so I knew better than to hope he’d move away once they were married. The flat real estate market aside, Kat’s home would be way too convenient and familiar for him, doggone it.
Speaking of dogs, he’d have some adjusting to do with her feckless menagerie. I let out an evil chuckle.
And Kat’s horrendous housekeeping. That wasn’t going to sit well with my marine.
I smiled in the darkness. Maybe if Kat was lucky, Greg would get tired of the mess and clean it up himself. Now, there was a picture.
One thing was sure: things were about to change at Kat’s. I just hoped it would be for the better.
On that happy thought, I rolled over and went back to sleep.
 
 
In spite of my continued efforts to be friendly, Kat still froze me out. By the time her kids started decorating her house for the wedding, Amelia—who’d refused to have any part of her father’s remarriage—was begging me to come see her in California, so I wouldn’t be there when it happened. On the other hand, Emma, who’d been flown down for the wedding, argued that it was fine if I stayed home during the ceremony—as long as I didn’t peek out the windows while the wedding was taking place on Kat’s front porch.
Personally, I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. I’d meant it when I said I hoped my ex and my wife-in-law would be happy. I just wished they’d do it somewhere else.
 
 
D
addy was packing, but I didn’t believe he was really leaving. Mama had said he was, but it was April Fools’ Day. So I didn’t cry when she’d told me over breakfast that he was leaving us for another family, and I couldn’t talk to him about it, not one word, or he’d get mad and never come see me again. Or even call. But it had to be a joke.
I knew my father loved me, and he would never leave me with crazy Mama. Even if he did find another family without a crazy mother like mine, he’d take me with him. So I sat on the big bed and swung my feet back and forth while he packed, waiting for him to say “April Fools!”
Mama was in her chair in the living room, watching her soap operas, as usual, another reason not to believe Daddy was really leaving. If he really, truly
was
going, Mama would be hysterical. I mean, how would she live? She never went out anymore, not even to take care of the roses she used to love when I was little.
Where would she get money for food, and who would bring the groceries without Daddy? Who would take me to the bus stop and pick me up on rainy days?
No, he couldn’t really be leaving.
But when he scanned the room with tears in his eyes, then latched the big, beat-up suitcase he’d found in all the stuff Mama piled into our little house, I stopped swinging my legs.
His tears came faster, flooding his cheeks as he looked at me as if his heart would break. Then he hugged me, drawing me into his lap on the bed. “If there was any other way to do this,” he whispered, his words shaking, “my darling girl, I would find it. I tried, spent everything I had to try to keep you, but the judge was a throwback to the Middle Ages.”
Throwback? What was that?
Daddy sure wasn’t acting like this was a joke. My blood congealed inside me, prickling everywhere there was life. “Keep me?”
Daddy’s body quaked, holding me tight. “I thought sure they’d let me take you when they saw how sick Mama is, but they didn’t. So now it’s too late. Your mother signed the divorce papers, and the judge said you have to live with her.”
I loved my mama, but her sickness had made me dream of escape with my father ever since I was old enough to realize that other people didn’t live like we did.
“Now, the only way I can make the payments is to take the job in Saudi Arabia.” He broke down and sobbed.
I didn’t know exactly where Saudi Arabia was, but I knew it was very far away.
Divorce.
This couldn’t be real. Daddy couldn’t go off and leave me with Mama.
Cold. My hands and feet were so cold.
I grabbed on to Daddy with all my might. “You can’t leave!” My voice came out high and shrill as a two-year-old having a tantrum. “Take me with you! I’ll do anything, just don’t leave me here with
her
! Please, God, no!”
Daddy pried himself from my grasp and stood. “I have no choice.” He wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, suddenly looking like an old man.
“Betsy,” Mama shouted over the blaring TV, “let your father leave in peace. Remember what I told you.”
That he’d never call or visit if I tried to talk to him about it.
Grief and fear battled inside me, but in the end, fear of never seeing him again kept me silent. He was really going, saving himself, going to a normal family. And leaving me behind as a human sacrifice to Mama’s never-ending needs and craziness. I sat there, crushed by the horror of being responsible for Mama. It weighed so heavy, I could barely breathe.
“There’s a good girl, now,” Daddy soothed. He reached into his pocket and handed me a business card that said “Family and Children’s Services” with some woman’s name and number at the bottom. Daddy’s voice dropped to a tight whisper. “Hide this from your mother. If she doesn’t take care of you, call this lady, and they’ll get in touch with me.”
He kissed the top of my head, then started working his way through the narrow path to the front door. “I’ll write you,” he called without looking back.
Too devastated to cry, I just sat there on my parents’ bed as I heard the front door open, then slam.
This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare, and I would wake up, and everything would be the same. Daddy would just be traveling on business. He was a very good salesman, so he traveled a lot.
I closed my eyes, hard, and willed it to be a dream. But I didn’t wake up. My parents’ room was just the way it always was, crammed with junk on Mama’s side, and clean on Daddy’s.
Crazy, how little of the piles and piles of
things
in our house had been his.
Hate exploded inside me, aimed at the idiot judge who’d refused to let me go with my daddy, and at my mother’s sickness that had driven the one person I truly loved from my life. I started screaming from the bottom of hell and couldn’t stop.
Mama appeared at the door to her room. “Good Lord, Betsy, you’ll raise the dead. Shut up, before someone calls the police.”
“I hope they do call the police,” I shouted through my rage and grief. “And I hope they put you in jail, so I can go with Daddy!”
I expected her to scream right back at me, but instead, she came in and pulled me to my feet against her, gently rocking me back and forth despite my stiffness in her arms. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she said with her cheek against the top of my head. “I didn’t want to get divorced, but your daddy couldn’t handle my sickness anymore. I couldn’t let you go. You’re all I have left in the world. You’re my daughter, and I’m your mother. Nothing should take a daughter from her mother.”
Torn asunder, I felt like some ancient old hag, dried up and empty, with the weight of the world on my shoulders. Of course Mama couldn’t let me go. She needed me to take care of her.
But I was just a little girl. Mama was supposed to take care of me, not the other way around.
In that moment, I hated both my parents for what they’d done and vowed that I would never hurt my children the way Mama and Daddy had hurt me.
Even so, I missed my father so much, I could hardly get out of bed in the morning. At first, I raced to the mailbox every day when I got home from school, praying for a letter from him, but I never got a single one.
I made up all kinds of dramatic excuses in my mind for why he hadn’t written, but as the months passed into years, I gradually accepted the fact that he’d abandoned me.
He was gone, but every Christmas and Thanksgiving after that, the dark bitterness of his absence hovered at the edge of my vision like a ghost. I never got over losing him.
And the more dependent on me my mother became, the more I resented Daddy for escaping, at my expense. I came to hate him as much as I longed for him.
So I never trusted my heart to anyone again, until my own children were born. The love I felt for my girls helped me understand why my mother couldn’t give me up, even for my own good. Thanks to that, I stopped hating her, at least.
And I vowed to be the best wife and mother who ever breathed, so my husband would never, ever have cause to leave me.
BOOK: Wife-In-Law
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