His Wife for One Night (18 page)

She stirred some sugar into the coffee, adding cream, and he stood there like a fool, watching her. Remembering all those years he hated himself for noticing his best friend’s wife.

“I’m surprised you have decaf,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

He’d remembered she drank decaf and had asked Gloria to pick some up with the rest of the groceries. He poured himself a cup and sat down on the chair across from her.

“Look at this place.” She sighed. “Hasn’t changed at all.”

“It’s only been five years,” he said. “You think we’d redecorate?”

She laughed, the sound like a breeze coming down off the mountains, warm and cool at the same time. “Hasn’t changed since I moved into this kitchen thirty years ago.”

He looked around, trying to see his home through her eyes. “Hasn’t changed practically since I was born.”

He could feel her watching him and he fought the urge to suck in his stomach. Preen like a peacock.

“How are you feeling, Walter?” she asked. “The Parkinson’s disease…”

“Good,” he answered and he wasn’t lying. Didn’t want to lie, not anymore, not to this beautiful woman in front of him. “The medication keeps me on an even keel. I can’t do a lot of the stuff I used to—riding a horse is probably beyond me—but I’ve been helping the men clear the old fire road to the high pasture and it’s…it’s good.”

Sandra’s smile was wide, lighting up her face, her round cheeks dimpling. Love lurched in his chest.

“That is very good to hear, Walter,” she said. “A man like you should work.”

A man like him? What did that mean? He picked apart her words as if they were a riddle.

“Tell me about Los Angeles,” he said. “Do you like it?”

She took a deep breath and held it, weighing her answer and he took her hesitation to heart. She didn’t like it. He’d never believed she would. Sandra was a woman for open spaces and wild places. The city had to feel like a cage.

“It is very crowded,” she said. “And…even working at the church, I am bored. Lucy works such long hours—”

“The jewelry design business,” Walter said, and Sandra’s eyebrows arched.

“I didn’t know you knew,” she said.

“I was oblivious to a lot of things,” he said. “But your girls were not ones to be ignored.”

Sandra liked that. She laughed and laughed and he smiled, pushing his chair closer to the table, as if he could slice right through the wood to be next to her.

She took a sip of coffee and he watched her long elegant throat through the open collar of her red shirt. They were both sixty-four years old and he felt like a teenager, aware of her, of himself in a way he thought he’d never be again.

He’d felt love for Sandra for a long time.

Desire came as a bit of surprise.

“Where is Victoria?” she asked, staring down at her cup.

“Gone,” he said quickly. “After the divorce she moved to Idaho to be with her sister. I haven’t heard from her.”

She shook her head. “That’s no way to end a marriage,” she said, and he sat, dumbstruck. Victoria had made Sandra’s life miserable five years ago, had made everyone’s life miserable for aeons, and she was scolding him for finally divorcing her?

“Marriage is sacred,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s easy to say when you have a good one,” he said. Sandra and A.J.’s marriage had been salt in his wounds.

She nodded, slowly, but he could tell she wasn’t agreeing with him. “You gave up a long time ago, Walter,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to resist sarcasm. “Do you remember my wife?”

“I do,” she said, looking him right in the eye, making him feel like a fool. “The woman that hit your son and treated your trusted employees like garbage. I remember her well. Probably better than you, since you weren’t around most of the time.” She stood up and he realized how badly this was going, how terribly opposite to what he’d dreamed, and he stood up, too.

“I’m sorry, Sandra,” he said. “I don’t want to fight.”

She paused next to him, wrapping a bright blue shawl around her thin shoulders. God, she was lovely.

“You never do,” she whispered. “And sometimes…sometimes you need a good fight.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, enlivening his old, dried-out body. Then before he could move, she was gone.

Leaving behind the scent of roses and spice and the shame of knowing that even when he thought he was right, he was all wrong.

“I’m done with bed,” she declared, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind her. The aches and pains of her body made her words a lie; she’d be back in her bed soon enough. But not until she had this conversation with Jack.

“What the hell was last night?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. It took a lot of courage to do this. She’d stood in her room most of the morning trying to muster up the guts to face this horrifically embarrassing situation head-on.

His smile was slow and knowing, and her body started to simmer.

“I know you’re not terribly experienced,” he said with a drawl, “but I figure—”

“Stop it, Casanova,” she spat. “I’m asking you why. I’m not a toy, Jack.”

The smile died. “I know.”

“Then why? We agreed on a divorce. You said you were leaving.”

“No.” He stepped closer. “I said I was leaving after you told me you wouldn’t give me a chance—”

“To experiment?” she screeched.

“Yeah.” His face got firm, his eyes hard. “I’m sorry my choice of words offended you, Mia. But you have to remember, I don’t have all that much experience, either. Now, the way I see it, you’re not supposed to be doing heavy work for a while longer, and I’m here for two more weeks until I have to go see the board anyway.”

She shook her head. “Forget it, Jack. It won’t work.”

“Why?”

“Because if you couldn’t fall in love with me in thirty years of friendship, or five years of marriage, then why would you fall in love with me in two weeks?”

He stepped closer and then closer again, and she really regretted slamming shut that tack room door. Actually, she really regretted coming out here for this little showdown. She was so weak when it came to Jack. One push, a nudge even, and she’d topple whichever way he wanted.

“You were right, Mia, I never saw you. Not…this way. Not as a real wife, or a lover. And I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. But listen to me when I say you are not a replacement for my work. You could never be. You’re too…big for that. Too important for that. And I see you now.”

“Now?” she asked. “Why is now different?”

“Because I see everything differently now. My dad, my past, Africa. You. Especially you.”

Her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and she moved backward toward the door, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her close and she had just enough pride to resist.

“I’m looking right at you,” he whispered. The world fell away. The tack room. The guys outside. Her injuries, his carelessness. Everything vanished except for Jack McKibbon looking at her the way she’d always dreamed.

Years too late.

“I’m tough,” she whispered, tugging her hand free, wrestling her heart loose. “But not that tough. I can only bend so far. If you hurt me again…I’ll break.”

She heard Lucy in the barn giving Chris a hard time, and she opened the door to the tack room, letting in cool air and distance. Distance she needed.

“You can stay for two weeks. I do need your help around here, I can’t lie. But after that…” She shook her head. “Don’t come back.”

“Stop it,” Mia whispered.

“I can’t,” Lucy said, resting her arms on the splintery beams of the fence. “Seriously, honey, you’re like a car crash. I just can’t look away.”

“It’s over,” she said, as if she’d said, “He’s died.” Odd that the end of her marriage hurt more now than when she’d brought up the divorce almost three months ago. Then it had been a twinge of pain, some embarrassment that he hadn’t fought back. And now that he was fighting back, the end of her marriage felt like a funeral. A death.

“I don’t think it was over last night when he followed you to your room and didn’t come back,” Lucy said, tossing her long, straight black hair over her shoulder. Lucy’s hair was like a tame dog compared to Mia’s. Always shiny and pretty, it did whatever Lucy wanted. Mia had to muzzle her hair into a ponytail and then a hat just to be presentable. “Honestly, Mia, you should have seen Mom’s face. It’s like she was counting the minutes until you gave her grandkids.”

“There won’t be any grandkids. We’re getting a divorce.”

“Really?” Lucy asked. Mia nodded. Stupid tears welled up in her eyes and she dug her chin into the wood fencepost.

“Then why are you crying?” It should have been obvious, so Mia just sniffed and kept her mouth shut. “You still love him.”

“Of course I love him!” she cried. “My God, Lucy, look at the man.” She turned, flinging her arm out to where Jack was riding up from the south pasture. She had no idea how she knew he was there, she just did. The same way she knew where north was. He was a part of her compass and she was so scared that when he left, she’d be lost.

“The man looks good in a cowboy hat,” Lucy said with a low whistle. “If you go for that kind of thing.”

“I’m a rancher,” Mia grumbled. “I live for that kind of thing.”

“I can see your dilemma.”

The silence was soft, comfortable, and Mia realized in a heartbeat how much she missed her sister. How, when Lucy took Mom to L.A., it felt as if part of her had gone missing.

And now that Lucy was back, Mia needed to unload the burden she carried. The baggage she stored and hid away that could no longer be borne alone.

“He’s going to go to that university in two weeks and tell them he’s responsible for Oliver’s death,” she blurted.

Lucy hung her head and muttered something under her breath.

“I know it’s crazy, and I think
he
knows it’s crazy. But I feel bad for him. I feel—”

“Come on now, Mia. How many more years are you going to dedicate to loving a man who doesn’t love you back?”

“Ouch, Lucy.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just… I can’t watch you put any more time into that man.”

“He says he sees me now, really sees me.” She looked over and caught her sister’s dumbstruck expression. “I think… I mean, I know it sounds desperate, but I think he’s changing. I really do.”

“But can he change enough?” Lucy asked after a long moment.

Mia’s heart pulled and strained like one of the dogs on a leash.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Well, I know!”

“Stop, please, just stop.” Mia looked up at the blue sky, the white clouds. So much beauty and she just didn’t care. The world could be gray and it wouldn’t make any difference. It would, in fact, only make Jack and his temptation that much brighter.

“Tell me something good,” she said, wanting some color in her life. Something to distract her from the fluorescence that was Jack. “Tell me how your business is booming and all the movie stars are wearing your jewelery.”

“All the movie stars are wearing my jewelery because I give it to them,” Lucy said, staring down at the dirt.

“Is something wrong?” Mia asked, worried by this cloud on her sister’s face.

“Wrong?” Lucy laughed and then shook her head. “It’s not exactly what I thought it would be. The de signs… Everyone loves the designs.”

“Of course they do,” Mia said. “They’re gorgeous.”

“I’m just having trouble with the business part of it.”

Lucy shrugged. “It’s a steep learning curve.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Mia said.

“I always do, don’t I?”

Lucy propped her old cowboy boots, which somehow managed to look stylish rather than serviceable, on the bottom rail of the fence and whistled.

Blue came walking over like a lovesick cowboy.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Mia said.

“With males of all species?” Lucy asked, her eyes twinkling.

“With horses,” Mia said. “Remember when Dad took you to that roundup?”

Lucy smiled and nodded, her eyes far away. “Mom about lost it.”

“Well, you were four. But you wouldn’t let him leave without you. And I can’t blame Mom, those mustang roundups were dangerous.”

“Not with Daddy,” Lucy said, scratching Blue’s nose. “Daddy made everything safe.”

Mia nodded in agreement. A truth they’d taken for granted until he died and their world became decidedly unsafe.

“I could never figure out why Victoria thought Mama and Walter had some kind of relationship,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Why on earth would she go after that old drunk when Daddy was around?”

Mia bristled at the name-calling, but she didn’t say anything. Growing up, Lucy had never liked Walter. Not that Mia had, either, but taking care of him for the past five years had given her some insight into why Walter did what he did.

Shame and grief could turn a man inside out.

“Mom didn’t and wouldn’t. Victoria was crazy,” Mia said.

“You can say that again. You know,” Lucy said, wrapping her arm around Mia’s, leading her back toward the house and the bed that waited, “I think it’s a good thing that your marriage with Jack is coming to an end.”

“You do, do you?”

“You deserve better.”

“Like what Mom and Dad had?”

Lucy stopped and turned to face her. “What’s wrong with being on your own?” Lucy asked. “There’s strength in that.”

“And loneliness.”

“You think Mom wasn’t lonely?” Lucy asked. “Dad worked long hours and Mom had nothing to do but wait for him. Raise his children and keep his meals warm.”

“This isn’t going to turn into some feminist diatribe, is it?”

“No. Well, maybe. I’m just saying, marriage can be lonely, too.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mia snapped. Hadn’t she lived in the loneliest marriage for the last five years?

“I know I don’t,” Lucy said, draping her arm across Mia’s shoulders. Lucy took after their father and despite being eighteen months younger, Lucy was a good half foot taller. “But before you go back to bed to nurse your broken heart, remember that even good marriages are unequal. And as happy as Mom was being married, she’s loving her freedom. She’s very happy living the bachelor life.”

As far as pep talks went, this one was pretty awful, but Mia appreciated the effort. She hugged her sister tight, wishing she could absorb some of her strength and fire. Something to keep her going when everyone left her again. “You’re not taking Mom out clubbing, are you?”

“She’s taking me out. The woman dances until she drops.”

“You’re very funny.”

“Yes, I am,” Lucy said. Mia allowed herself to be pushed back into motion, thinking all the while that her sister was right. Marriages could be unequal and lonely, but she remembered her parents’ relationship as a good one. And she wanted one like it for herself.

And if things were different with Jack, maybe she would have had it.

I could still have it,
she thought.
If Jack stayed, if I let him stay. If I took the risk he keeps yammering on about…I could have a real marriage. A real husband. I could have the man I love loving me back.

But the risk was just too much.

“Mia?” Lucy asked, stopping to look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

“My head hurts,” Mia said, and it wasn’t a lie.

But her heart hurt worse.