Love Will Find a Way (22 page)

"I can't. I'm expecting a call at five o'clock.” Without bothering to explain further, Emily hurried out the door, got in her car and drove the short distance to her house.

At precisely four-fifty-seven she came through the front door. The telephone was ringing. Racing across the room, Emily picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. “Yes. Hello."

"Emily?” Robert's deep voice sounded across the wire. “I called a few moments ago and you didn't answer."

Emily pitched her handbag on the couch. “I just got home."

Robert waited, hoping, she suspected, that she would offer further explanation. After a short silence he said, “Tomorrow is Sunday."

"Yes, I know.” Emily wondered where all this was leading.

"Would you like to go with me to visit Mom and Dad?"

Emily hesitated, “I don't know if that's such a good idea.” George and Clara would ask questions that Emily wasn't ready to answer, not yet anyway.

"They would love to see you."

"And I'd love to see them, but...."

"Why don't I come by and take you to lunch? We can talk about it then."

There wasn't much privacy to be had in a crowded restaurant, Emily asked, “Why don't you come to the house and let me make lunch for you?” She grimaced into the telephone. Was she out of her mind?

Robert hastened to accept. “I'd like that. What time?"

Emily answered, “Around twelve or twelve-thirty?"

"I'll be there.” Robert hung up the phone.

As she made her way to the kitchen Emily wondered how long before she would begin to feel at home in this place? She had been so sure that moving was a wise decision. Now second thoughts moved in to whisper through her mind. She shook her head to clear her brain. Only hours ago she had decided to set a course of action and pursue it and now she was worrying about the wisdom of a decision she had already made. “I'll feel better tomorrow,” she whispered.

But that same doubt popped into her head the next morning as she opened her eyes in a strange room.
What I need,
she reasoned, as she made Boo's breakfast,
is to stop worrying about all those past mistakes I can't change and start making positive plans for the future.
She patted Boo's head. “Don't you agree?"

Boo's answer was to wag his tail.

"Is that your studied opinion?” Emily put a plate of food on the floor and watched as Boo wolfed it down. Her mind drifted back to yesterday's conversation with Dennis. He had advised her, without actually saying it in so many words, to put her own needs and desires first. Or had she read the wrong meaning into his equivocal advice? She had gone to Dennis half-expecting him to give her some clue as to how to bridge the gap between Robert and his sons. Instead, he had raised more questions than he had answered.

She had thought, too, that he would tell her something about his session with Kevin and Larry. He had not only refused to do that, he had carefully refrained from giving any indication as to how either of them felt about reconciliation between their parents. Emily pushed the thoughts from her mind and decided to cook an elaborate lunch. That should keep her hands busy and her mind occupied until Robert put in an appearance.

She was only half right. Her hands were busy through the remainder of the morning. But even as she made a pot roast and baked a lemon pie, thoughts shifted through her mind like patterns in a turning kaleidoscope.

As she chopped lettuce and sliced tomatoes, she forced herself to review the question Dennis had put to her the day before. Aloud, she asked, “What do you want, Emily?” She would have gladly answered, if she had known what the answer was.

Emily was putting the final touches to her dining room table centerpiece when the doorbell rang. She rushed to answer.

Robert stood on the other side, with a wine bottle tucked under his arm, and holding a bouquet of flowers. “Am I too early?"

"No.” She couldn't remember the last time he had brought her flowers. Stepping back, she motioned with her hand. “Come in.” Was she being a fool, inviting him into her house and into her life again?

Robert came inside before handing Emily the bouquet of carnations and babies’ breath. “These are for you."

"Thank you. They're lovely.” Emily started for the kitchen.

Robert followed her. “I remembered you like pink carnations."

"They're very pretty.” She rummaged around under the cabinet, found an empty jar and filled it with water. “I'll put them on the table.” She nodded toward the dining room. “We're eating in there.” It occurred to her that if they had been half as anxious to please each other before their divorce as they were now, their marriage might never have fallen apart in the first place. “I cooked a special lunch."

She set Robert's bouquet in the center of the table and put her own arrangement of spring flowers on the sideboard. “I cooked all your favorites."

Robert put the bottle of wine beside the flowers. “I smelled your pot roast when I came through the door. It brought back a host of good memories.” He hung his hat on the back of a chair. “Is it too much to hope that you also made a lemon pie?"

"I did,” Emily replied. “There's a fresh vegetable salad, too, with French dressing."

Robert gazed at the table. “You did all this for me?"

Her first impulse was to make light of her efforts. Something in his painful expression stopped her. “I enjoyed doing it.” She nodded toward the table. “Sit down. I'll bring the food."

Robert ladled gravy over his pot roast. “Aunt Beth says you came by to see her last week. That was nice of you."

"I wasn't being nice.” Emily was genuinely fond of Robert's great-aunt. “I enjoy visiting with Aunt Beth."

They ate in relaxed silence. As Robert helped himself to a generous slice of lemon pie he asked, “Would you like to stop by and see Aunt Beth this afternoon after we visit with Mom and Dad?"

Emily set her glass on the table. “I'm not going to your parents with you."

A frown knitted Robert's brow, “Why not?"

"I don't think it's a good idea.” She had half-expected him to be angry.

Instead he asked softly, “Don't you want to see them?"

"I do see them at least once a week. I don't want to go there today."

Robert laid his napkin beside his plate. “What you mean is, you don't want to go there with me. Why not, Emily?"

How could she explain to someone else something she hadn't settled in her own mind yet? “You promised not to pressure me."

Robert closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I'm not pressuring you; I am trying to understand you. I think that's something I failed to do for a lot of years.” He opened his eyes and stared at her. “You tried so many times to tell me how you felt about things and I didn't listen. I'm ready to do that now, if you'll let me. Tell me, please, why you don't want to go with me to visit my parents."

Emily pushed her plate aside, put her elbows on the table and set her chin in her hands. “If we go there together George and Clara will think we're back together again."

"Would that be so terrible? That's what they hope will happen."

"But suppose it doesn't work out for us? Then they'll be disappointed all over again."

"That won't happen. I won't let it.” Coming around the table, Robert took her hand and led her into the living room, where he pushed her down on the couch and sat down beside her. “We can talk much better here without a table between us.” He took both of her hands in his. “You're not sure we can work through our problems.” When she tried to pull her hands from his, he held them even tighter, “Why not, Emily?"

There had been more between them than a table. There still was. “Because I'm not sure of anything anymore.” This time Emily succeeded in pulling her hands free. She folded them in her lap. “Things change, people change."

"I know things have changed between us. Sometimes I wake up in the dead of the night in a cold sweat afraid that I can never again rebuild that bridge of love and trust between us.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That's it, isn't it? You're afraid that somewhere down the line I'll walk out on you again."

"It could happen.” Emily tried to retreat and found her back pressing into the couch arm.

Robert touched her face with the tips of his fingers before letting them slide gently through her hair. “You're not going to lose me, not ever again."

"I've already lost you. We're divorced. You've been with someone else. I keep asking myself, what did she offer that I couldn't give you?” She pushed his hand away. “It must have been potent and very real for you to trash your marriage and alienate your sons to have it."

He moved back as if she had struck him a physical blow. “I've told you it was all a mistake. Can't we leave it at that instead of dragging out all those painful old memories?"

"Maybe you can. I can't.” If they ever hoped to get past this traumatic episode in their lives, they had to talk about Robert's infidelity. “If it happened once, what assurance is there that it won't happen again?"

He stood and paced restlessly across the floor. With his back to her he said, “It won't happen again for the same reason a kid doesn't touch a hot stove the second time. I've been burned. I know the pain it brings and I also know that pain is all I would get, that and an aching wound that doesn't ever heal.” He turned to face her. “I was too proud to admit that I, the great Robert Franklin, could suffer from so common a malady as middle-aged infatuation. So I decided I must be in love again. A part of me actually believed I was."

A part of her didn't want to hear this confession, but another part of her knew that she must. Emily nodded her head. “Go on."

"I convinced myself that what was wrong with our marriage was your fault. Susan was there, offering me solace and comfort."

"And sex,” Emily added.

"That, too.” Robert moved restlessly across the floor.

A fear Emily had avoided all these months suddenly surfaced. “How experienced is Susan?"

A resigned sigh pushed Robert to his feet again. “Susan is not a promiscuous woman. But it did enter my mind after the fire began to turn to ashes, that going to bed with a woman I really didn't know that well was foolish in more ways than one.” Again, he collapsed onto the couch. “I had the good sense to get myself tested. I don't have any sexually transmitted diseases."

That was a thought that had never crossed Emily's mind. “I'm glad, but that's not what I'm talking about."

Robert tilted his head to one side. “Then what are you trying to say?"

Emily searched for word that would get her point across and still leave her pride intact. “Has Susan slept with many men?"

Robert exploded, “Good God, Emily. Why would you want to know that?"

"Because I haven't, I'm sadly lacking in experience. In a blushing young bride, that's excusable, maybe even admirable. For someone my age, it's ludicrous. I can't compete with a woman who's slept around.” She spoke aloud a fear that had tormented her for months. “What if after being with Susan you find me inadequate and boring?"

On a tortured breath, Robert gritted, “That would never happen."

Without an ounce of malice, Emily said “It already has. The last few years of our marriage, for you sex with me was no more than a habit.” It was not an accusation, but a calm statement of fact.

"What about that night in Wimberly?” he asked. “That was pure magic."

"And you said afterward it was a mistake."

The impatience she knew to be an integral part of him suddenly surfaced. “That was because I thought of myself as being committed to Susan. I had just made love to the wife I was convinced no longer gave a damn for me and it was fantastic. I was more than a little confused."

For Emily that night in Wimberly held bittersweet memories. “I want to forget the entire episode."

"Well, I don't!” Robert stated with that old aggressive fire Emily knew so well. “And I couldn't if I wanted to; it's etched into my memory forever.” His voice dropped. “Here I've been thinking you wouldn't let me near you because you suspected I might have some social disease and I discover you're afraid of your own imagined inadequacies."

"Oh, they're not imagined, they're very real."

Robert put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. “May I kiss you?” His eyes held hers in a magnetic stare.

"I'm not a child, Robert. You can't kiss me and make it better."

"How do you know until we try?” Holding onto her chin, he edged a little closer.

"Do you remember the first time I kissed you?” He moved again shifting his weight carefully, seeming to sense that any sudden movement would break the spell that was weaving between them. “I mean really kissed you and not just a hello or a good-bye peck on the cheek?"

She did remember. They had been standing in the back yard of her parents’ home. It was her sixteenth birthday. Robert had lingered until the party was over, her giggling friends had all gone home and both sets of parents had retired to the house. The cloying scent of honeysuckle hung in the warm twilight air. “You told me to close my eyes, that you had something for me."

"Close your eyes,” Robert whispered. “I have something for you."

Emily closed her eyes and waited.

His lips claimed hers in a sweetly seductive kiss. After a few blissful moments, Robert broke the embrace and moved back. “Do you remember what you said to me then?"

It had been years since she had thought about that incident. “Something stupid, I imagine."

"It wasn't stupid.” He still held onto her chin. “It was very sweet and very innocent, and very honest. You rubbed your hand across your mouth and said, ‘You stuck your tongue in my mouth.’ Then you asked me to do it again."

"And you refused,” Emily said, as that old memory sharpened and came into focus in her mind. “I thought you'd been completely turned off."

Robert guffawed, “Turned off? I was turned on, so turned on that I knew I had to get out of there before I did something really foolish, like try to seduce you.” Remembering made him smile. “I worried for weeks that you would tell your father and he'd come after me with a shotgun."