His Wife for One Night (21 page)

“Walter?” Her voice was a sweet caress.

Fight for what you want,
he told himself.

“Evening, Sandra,” he said.

“What’s got you wandering around so late?”

“I was…” He stopped the lie on his lips.

Fight,
he told himself, but he didn’t know exactly how to do that. He figured he’d do what he did with Jack. He’d start with the truth.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw her curled up in the couch, wrapped in that blue shawl. She looked like a robin’s egg and he wanted to pick her up, hold her in his arms.

“Well, you found me,” she said and he heard something different in her voice, something that turned that smile of hers into a lie. Sadness.

She’d been sitting here crying.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sitting down next to her, so aware of her leg inches away from his.

“I am, Walter,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I am fine. I think, maybe, being in this house is harder than I thought it would be.”

His heart tripped and his “fight for what you want” pep talk died a scared little death.

“You miss your husband,” he whispered.

“I do.” Her voice cracked. “I do.” She took a deep breath and began to stand up. “I should go,” she said, but he put his hand on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin under the shawl. He wanted to hug her, pull her into his arms, rub his hands down the elegant curve of her back—give and take whatever comfort they could offer each other.

He’d been frozen for so long, since way before Jack was even born.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sandra,” he pleaded, but she shook her head, the tension ratcheting up until it felt as though the whole roof might blow off.

“Please,” he whispered, wanting to take away her pain.

“I’m so mad!” she yelled and he was so shocked he reached for her, but she slapped at his hand and the eyes she turned on him were livid. “I’m so mad at you,” she hissed.

“Me?”

“This was my home. I cared for it. I cared for every person here and you let that woman—” She stopped, shaking her head, gathering herself together. “I’m sorry, Walter. It’s been a long night and I think I should just go.”

“I think you should say what you need to say,” he told her, seeing the undeniable need in her. What he had to tell her seemed useless in front of all her suppressed feelings. He felt like a fool, coming in here with plans to unburden his pathetic heart, while she stewed in an anger he’d never seen.

She clenched the ends of that shawl in bone-white fists. “I’m angry that you let that woman ruin this home, your family, all because you were a coward.”

He flinched, but stayed silent. Sandra had a good head of steam on and showed no sign of stopping.

“A.J. was your best friend, he worked this land beside you and you let his family get pushed out of the only home we’d ever known, weeks after his death, before we even had a stone on his grave.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“I know you are, Walter. You’re a sorry man. And I thought I could come back here and feel nothing, but I have twenty-five years of living in these walls and if I’d had my way I would have died here and been buried right beside my husband. And I was robbed of that.”

More apologies rose to his lips, but he kept quiet, his heart beating a ragged rhythm in his chest.

“Lucy and I will be leaving soon,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “You can stay. I…I would like you to stay.”

She watched him a long time and finally shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s too late. Lucy’s business is in L.A., and that’s where we belong.”

He wanted to argue with her—hell, any fool could see she wanted to stay here. But it wasn’t his place.

“Good night, Walter,” she breathed and left, silently crossing the living room.

When she was gone and the shadows turned from purple to black, he took a deep breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, letting loose the words he’d come into the room to say. “I’ve always loved you.”

Silence answered him, the silence of an almost empty house, like a cave with nothing but cobwebs and echoes. Ghosts of a life that might have been.

“I need a drink,” he muttered and went in search of his bottle.

The thought was bittersweet and she pushed it away before it could grow into a wish.

“Why did your dad marry your mother?” she asked, and Jack shook his head.

“We haven’t talked about it,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t want to bring it up.”

Mia hummed in response. Unable to help herself, she tilted her nose closer to his chest, just so she could smell him. Laundry soap and hard work and just a little bit of sex.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Yep. You smell good. Like sex.”

Jack’s chuckle rumbled under her ear and she didn’t know when she’d ever felt this happy. This…complete.

“I’m leaving day after tomorrow,” he said.

Great, she thought, leaning away from the magnetic heat of the man she loved. Good feeling gone.

He braked and threw the truck into Park. The lights from the ranch were just around the corner and Mia wished she were there right now so she could hide out in her room and avoid this goodbye. She’d had enough of them. Wasn’t strong enough to do it again, with a brave smile and dry eyes.

Part of her was dying and she didn’t want to pretend otherwise.

“Come with me,” he said, shocking her. “I want you to come. I meant what I said on that roof. I love you, Mia.” She opened her mouth, but nothing but a choked gasp came out. “It’s only a few days. With branding done, Chris and the boys can handle—”

“Okay,” she breathed. She knew what she was doing, the great gamble she was taking against terrible odds, but she couldn’t help it. Her better judgment was in some kind sex-sated coma and her heart was running the show.

“Okay?” he repeated, as surprised as she was that she’d agreed. She nodded, unable to stop the smile, the strange giggle that erupted from all her happy places. He hauled her into his arms. “Oh, my God, Mia,” he breathed into her hair. “Thank you. Thank you so much, I know how hard—”

“We both do,” she said, putting her hands over his mouth before he woke up her better judgment. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“You won’t be sorry,” he said, kissing her lips, her cheeks. “I promise you, you won’t be sorry.”

I hope not,
she thought.
I really hope not.

“She is trying to break her own heart. Again.” Lucy stepped into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

“I think…” Mia took a deep breath and took the black dress Lucy had loaned her for the Santa Barbara trip out of her closet. “I think it’s going to be okay and I know you just want the best for me, Lucy. But I think…I think Jack is the best for me.”

“Listen to you,” Lucy said. “You’re not even sure yourself and you’re trying to convince me?”

Mia stared at her sister for a long time. “I know it seems crazy,” she whispered.

“Totally loco,” Lucy agreed.

“But…I can’t not do it,” she said. “I can’t let him go without trying everything I can to make my marriage work.”

“That’s my girl,” Sandra said, taking the dress from Mia’s hands. “Marriage takes effort. Relationships take effort. Your sister doesn’t know this because she is too busy to date.”

“Oh, ho!” Mia laughed and Lucy groaned. “Score one for Mom.”

“Fine,” Lucy said. “But if you’re going away for the weekend, you’re not taking these.” Lucy reached into Mia’s suitcase and pulled out a handful of cotton underwear.

“Hey!” Mia said, trying to grab them back.

“Your sister is right. That underwear does not belong on a weekend with your husband,” Sandra said, and Lucy and Mia shared a quick horrified expression. “What?” Sandra asked, a vixen’s smile on her lips. “Your father was a happily married man for thirty-six years and it wasn’t because I’m a good cook.”

Lucy dug through Mia’s drawers for the silk and lace scraps that she bought her every year for her birthday.

“Now,” Sandra said, zipping up the packed bag. “Since you are back on your feet and everything seems to be in hand here, I think it’s time Lucy and I headed home.”

“What?” Mia asked.

“Yeah, what?” Lucy seconded.

“We are not needed here,” Sandra said with a shrug.

“You’re kidding, right?” Mia asked, wondering why her mother was saying this. “You’ve made this house a home again, Mom. Honestly, you can’t leave now.”

“But Lucy’s work—”

“Can keep,” Lucy said, and Mia turned to her sister, surprised to hear her volunteer to stay. “It can,” Lucy said. “And the truth is, I want to be here when you get back. I want to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mia said, stroking her sister’s shoulder.

“But thank you.”

Sandra was shaking her head. “I really think it’s time.”

“Mom,” Mia said, “I know Walter seems all right now, but two months ago the man could barely walk. I would feel a lot better leaving for a few days if I knew someone was here to watch him.”

“I am not that man’s nursemaid,” Sandra said with more venom than Mia had heard from her mother in years.

She shot a quick glance at her sister, who seemed just as baffled at their mother’s sudden adamant desire to leave.

“I know you’re not and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to be. The truth is, he’ll probably be fine, but I would feel better knowing you were here. To help if it was needed.”

Mom could never resist a call to help, but still she seemed reluctant, so Mia pulled out the big guns.

“For me.”

Sandra groaned and muttered something in Spanish that Mia couldn’t quite hear.

“She just put double the baby-making curses on you,” Lucy whispered.

“They are prayers,” Sandra said, wrapping her arms around her girls. Mia dove into the hug, hauling her family against her.

“Fine,” Sandra whispered. “We’ll stay until you come back, but then we leave.”

“Okay,” Mia agreed.

The world was different today. Colored in shades of hope and happiness, and she couldn’t find it in herself to doubt. It seemed like sacrilege in the face of all this love.

So she didn’t doubt. She believed, with her whole heart, that her life was beginning anew.

He nodded stiffly, running a hand down his tie. “It’s just a formality,” he said. “I’ve already resigned.”

She didn’t say anything; the argument over his resignation had nearly ruined the drive from the ranch. She felt he was making a decision based on grief and in a few years’ time, he’d regret it. He’d wish for his old life back.

“Have some faith in me, Mia,” he’d said. “I know my own mind.”

It had been an inauspicious beginning to a weekend that had only gone downhill. Dinner last night had been stilted. In a college town like San Luis Obispo, everyone knew everyone. The second she and Jack sat down to eat, it seemed as though everyone in town came by to see how he was doing and to express their condolences over Oliver.

Jack had sat there with so much grief in his face she’d had to go to the bathroom to dry her eyes.

He’d dropped her back at his apartment, and gone to the university to take care of some loose ends. His condo was a two-bedroom with a beautiful view of the mountains and almost totally devoid of any sign of life, much less personality.

Looking in the cupboard at his two coffee cups and three plates, she started to believe that maybe he did know his own mind. Maybe he was ready to leave this empty life he lived behind.

That sense was reinforced when he came home last night, sliding into his king-size bed and holding her so tight she couldn’t tell his heartbeat from hers.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whispered. “I’ve been so distant. This is harder than I thought.”

“It’s okay,” she’d said, rolling over in his arms, cup ping his face in her hands. She didn’t believe her own assurances, but she wanted him to believe it.

And now, in front of the conference room doors, Jack looked like a man heading toward the hangman’s noose.

“You don’t still blame yourself, do you?” she asked, smoothing down the worst of his haywire hair.

She should have given him a haircut before they left the ranch.

“It’s not that simple, Mia,” he said, moving away from her touch. She tried not to take it personally, but everything was so screwed up. Jack was living in his head again and she couldn’t figure out how to reach him. “I know I’m not the reason they’re dead, but I would feel a whole lot better if I had done everything in my power…” He shook his head, his breath shaking when he exhaled. “Christ, if I had just done my job. Maybe…”

Her heart ached for him and as much as she wanted to touch him, she couldn’t. Between the tension and his mood, the arguments they’d already had about this, she didn’t know how to navigate this situation. Doubt, whisper-thin but poisonous, crept in along the seams of her belief. Her love.

You don’t fit in here,
doubt said.
His world has no room for you.

But he was leaving this world behind, she reminded herself, throwing her shoulders back in the black dress.

A dress that was totally inappropriate, she knew, but it was the only slightly nice thing she had. It didn’t feel right to wear jeans and cowboy boots and that was all she owned.

“Thank you for being here,” he whispered, lifting her hand and kissing her fingers, breathing warmth onto her palm. “I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

She kissed his ear. “I’m glad to be here,” she said, pushing the doubts aside. “Should I go in with you?”

He shook his head. “You can wait at the end of the hallway,” he said. “There’s a faculty lounge there. Coffee and stuff.”

She nodded, wishing she could make a joke or something, anything to lighten the mood, but she felt so illequipped. It was tough not to wish they were back on the ranch.

He kissed her hard on the mouth and then opened the door.

Sunlight flooded the hallway from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the conference room, and she got a quick look at a bunch of men in suits before Jack slipped in, shutting the door behind him.

Well,
she thought, staring at the dark wood door.
I guess now I wait.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to wait in the killer shoes she was wearing. She slipped them off with a sigh of ecstatic relief before heading down the hallway toward the lounge.

The room was cheerful, with yellow walls, a stainless-steel fridge and large windows that looked out over the mountains and the busy quad in the center of campus. A white counter crowded with small appliances ran along a far wall and the rest of the room was filled with an old couch and a couple of empty chairs and tables.

The coffee smelled old but strong, and she walked across the cool tile toward a cupboard looking for a mug.

She found about thirty of them and chose one with a horse on it. The coffee was as bad as it smelled, but she took the full cup and headed over to the fridge looking for milk.

Beside the fridge was a bulletin board filled with press clippings. All about Jack.

Pictures of Jack and Oliver shaking hands with the president. And Matt Damon. Surrounded by the smiling faces of a dozen children.

Headlines screamed: Professor Brings Water And New Life To Village. Scientists Changing the World One Well At A Time. Cal Poly Faculty Shortlisted For Humanitarian Award. President Obama Asks To Meet Faculty.

Two people walked in and Mia jumped, coffee splashing down the front of her dress.

“Crap,” she muttered, pulling the soaked fabric away from her chest.

“Are you…lost?” the woman asked, and Mia looked down at herself, barefoot and wearing a cocktail dress.

On a Monday morning.

Mia scrambled into her shoes.

“No, no, I’m Mia Alatore—I’m Jack McKibbon’s wife.”

“Oh!” The woman smiled and reached out to shake her hand. “Sorry, we don’t get a lot of women in fancy dresses hanging out in the engineering lounge.”

Mia laughed, but it was awkward and after the man and woman got coffee they were out of there pretty quick. Leaving her alone, feeling foolish and even more out of place.

She looked up at those headlines, all those pictures of Jack smiling, looking worn-out but satisfied.

Was he really going to give up all that to work the Rocky M?

She looked sideways at her reflection in the stainless-steel fridge.

He’s going to give up all that for me?
she wondered. She didn’t even come close to fitting into his world.

But it doesn’t matter,
she told herself, closing her eyes and turning away from the clippings.
It’s a world Jack is leaving behind.

But she was having more and more difficulty believing that.

Mia wasn’t sure how long this meeting was going to take, so she kept her shoes on and sat down with her coffee and an ancient
People
magazine she found in the couch cushions, determined to keep her chin up.

More people came and went. Lots of men in suits and she tried to be invisible and for the most part it seemed to work. But one crowd seemed to linger and she couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

They were talking about Jack.

“If he would accept the research position, we could keep him in the field for years at a time,” one man said, taking a sip of coffee and then making a face before set ting the cup down on the counter. “We just need to get to him before MIT does.” He turned to a woman at his left.

“And I heard Matt Damon was kicking around, hoping to talk to him about contract positions with NGOs.”

Mia slumped down in the couch, her heart turning to lead.

The small group of people kept talking about Jack, discussing the possibilities they could offer him, but she tuned them out. Her head was buzzing.

She’d been right to doubt. Jack’s world was going to come calling again. It was going to find him and he could only hide out on the Rocky M for so long.

So whether it was now or five years from now, Mia had no doubt that he’d leave. Again.

But he’d said he loved her, she reminded herself, carrying the words like a talisman.

Mia set aside her coffee cup, doubt like rocks weighing her down. And she waited. She waited long past when Jack said he would be done. The sun shifted across the sky, sending long shadows across the quad below.

She took off her shoes again.

Still she waited.

She crept back down the hallway. The conference room doors were shut, but she heard rumblings from inside. Male voices laughing.

Not a reckoning, then, she thought, her stomach slip ping down to her feet. Mia looked down at her coffee-splattered dress, her bare feet covered in blisters and felt like a fool.

Hope, foolish and misguided, had led her far from where she belonged and it was time to go back.

She was an afterthought again.

Mia was done waiting.