Not Your Everyday Housewife (16 page)

“Let’s do it,” Cyn said. “I’ll go first.” She turned to face them and cleared her throat. “I guess what I’ve learned most is to value what I have, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential. And to be happy with that.”

“Has Tula Rae been talking Buddhist with you?” Derry asked.

“I just want a second chance.” Cyn squeezed her eyes shut and made a quick sign of the cross. “A do-over,” she whispered, “not the kind that leaves everything behind. I want the kind that starts again from the same place.”

“Me, too.” Shea said in a quiet voice.

“I guess that leaves me odd man out,” Derry said. She had a pending divorce and a strange woman claiming to be her sister, waiting for her in Reston. She hadn’t mentioned the sister to Cyn or Shea.

Did she want to start over in the same place, or did she just want to start over? That was a question with no answer. Derry squinted against the sun, flipped her sunglasses into place and turned onto the highway.

Randalee Road looked almost the same as it had six weeks ago—lawns splashed with red and orange leaves, sun-dappled roofs, clusters of mums crowding flower beds, all neat and tidy.

Cyn’s house stretched out in front of them, a tan and brick colonial at the end of a cul-de-sac with a Chinese maple spread out over the lawn and three flower beds. Someone had been watering them, from the looks of the mums.

“Well, here you are,” Derry said. “Home, sweet home.”

They’d spent the night in a Motel 8 off Route 220 in Pennsylvania and had gotten up at 5 a.m., grabbed a 7-eleven coffee and muffin, gassed up, and hit the road. Urgency surged through them, like a living, breathing creature, forcing them home.

Time to say what needed said.

For Cyn, it was time to tell the truth, all of it.

“Good luck,” Shea said, rubbing Cyn’s shoulder as they pulled into the driveway. “Just tell him the truth. He’ll understand.”

“I will. God, I’m so nervous.”

“He worships you,” Derry said, “even if he picks out dorky birthday gifts.”

Cyn forced a smile. “Well, here goes.”

The front door opened and Sam stepped outside. Cyn’s gaze brushed over the tall, lean frame of her husband, clad in khaki’s and a blue polo. His arms and face were darker, his blondish-gray hair lighter. And he definitely looked thinner.

“Hi, Sam,” Derry yelled at him. “We’re returning your bride.”

Why did Derry have to say that? And why did Sam hesitate a few seconds before moving toward her? Cyn wiped her hands on her shorts and fixed a smile on her face. Then she opened the car door and stepped outside.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Cyn.”

The deep timbre of his voice still burned a spot low in her belly, even after all these years. They stood less than two feet apart, staring at one another. She moved first, flinging herself at him. She clasped her arms around his waist, buried her head against his chest, and squeezed her eyes shut.

This was home. Exactly where she wanted to be.

Sam pulled her close, casually at first, and then with a fierceness that surprised her.

“I missed you so much,” she murmured into his shirt. “I love you, Sam.”

He buried his face in her hair and whispered gruffly, “Me, too.”

“Okay, lovebirds save it for the bedroom.” Derry placed Cyn’s bags on the sidewalk next to Cyn’s feet. She flicked her sunglasses up and smiled at Sam. “Good to see. You’ve got a great wife. Take care of her.” And to Cyn, “Bye girl. It’s been a blast.”

Cyn eased an arm from around Sam’s waist and hugged Derry. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Sure.”

“And call me tomorrow. Let me know,” she paused, “about everything.”

“Yup.” Derry pushed her sunglasses on her face and threw them a quick wave. “See ya.” She hopped into the Navigator, shifted into gear, and flew down the driveway.

“Crazy woman,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“It’s just Derry. She means well.”

“So did Hitler.”

Cyn lifted a hand and ran her fingers along Sam’s jaw. “I really missed you,” she whispered.

His gray eyes darkened as he lowered his mouth and kissed her, soft and slow at first, and then with soulful urgency. “Ah, Cyn.”

“We need to talk, Sam.” She pulled away and forced herself to say, “There’s something I have to tell you. It’s the reason I went away.”

***

Sam watched Cyn fidget with the lemon, attempting to cut thin slices for their lemonade. “Damn!” She yanked her hand back and balled her fingers into a fist.

“What’d you do?”

“I cut myself.” She hurried to the sink and turned on the faucet. As she unfolded her fingers, thin streams of red washed over her left forefinger in quick, steady pulses. “Damn.”

“Here, let me.” Sam shut off the water and slapped a paper towel on her finger, applying pressure. He stared at the faint traces of red oozing through the double-ply cotton. “I should have warned you I just sharpened the knives.”

She shook her head but avoided his eyes. “No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful.”

“You’re not going to tell me you’ve hated those knives for twenty years and wished my brother had given us
one
Cutco instead of twelve pieces of junk?”

“No.”

“Look at me, Cyn.” Her eyes mirrored the pain and torment he felt. “It’s time to talk.” He held her hand and led her into the living room where he sank onto the corduroy sofa, pulling her down beside him. He wanted to get this over and done so they could move on with their lives. Would she tell him all of it, about the money
and
Steve Miller? And if she didn’t, what then?

Guilt pricked him but he forced his own indiscretions aside. She didn’t need to know about the accident, the girls were fine. As for Rita, nothing happened, certainly nothing bad enough to risk his marriage.

Cyn pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “Oh, God, I’ve been dreading and hoping for this day for over six months.”

“Six months?” His heart lurched against his ribcage. Maybe there was more he didn’t know about.

“I lied to you.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, across her chin, onto her lap. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered in short, choppy breaths.

Sam braced himself for a truth he didn’t want to hear. “Just tell me.”

“You know that money we set aside in the credit union for Kiki’s college?”

He nodded. It was about the money. That he could handle. It was the other he dreaded.

“Well, I was watching this seminar on TV about day trading one night when you were out of town.” She sucked in a breath and finished, “And I kind of borrowed the money.”

“You spent Kiki’s college money?”

“Well, kind of.”

“Cyn, there is no ‘kind of.’ There’s only yes and no. Which is it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Jesus.” He dropped her hand and stared at her. “You took your own daughter’s money?”

“You said it wasn’t that much, Sam, not compared to what we would’ve had if you hadn’t lost your job three years ago.”

“Don’t put this on me, Cyn. How much did you lose?” Would she tell him the truth or make up another lie?

“Actually, I didn’t lose.”

“For God’s sake, stop it.” He tried to keep his voice even but anger seeped through. “I
know
about the day trading. I found your password and the spreadsheet.”

“You know?” She sank back against the couch, her eyes narrowing on him in disbelief. “How long?”

“A few weeks after you left. You lost fifteen hundred dollars on some scheme and you never bothered to tell me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I found the spreadsheet, Cyn. I know what you lost.”

“What?”

She had the nerve and quick thinking to look confused. “Come here.” He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go take a look.” Sam led her to the study and pulled out the computer chair. “Sit.” Cyn sank into the chair while he leaned over and typed in a file name and password. “There,” he said, triumphantly. “A three thousand dollar investment in May and a fifteen hundred dollar loss.”

He waited for a reaction but she just sat there fixated on the screen. Dried tears streaked her cheeks in pale lines, making her look half sick.

“Say something,” he demanded when the silence in the room threatened to burst his eardrums.

“This was the first transaction I ever made,” she said slowly. “But it wasn’t the only one.” She closed the file and brought up another, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard. “This is the other spreadsheet,” she paused, “the one with the final numbers.”

Sam scanned the bottom line, squinted, and studied the numbers again. “Am I reading that right?” He scratched his head, leaned closer. “Does that say one hundred and fifteen thousand?”

“Yes.”

“As in dollars?
”

Cyn nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I guess I have a knack for it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She’d made a ton of money and kept it from him for six months? Why? And then it hit him like a dump truck. “You were going to leave me.”

“No!” She shot around and the horror on her face told him she was telling the truth.

“Then why?”

“I was just trying to find a way to get a little extra money to help us. We were always so strapped and you were so stressed about money for college and yet you didn’t want me to work. I had to find a way to help out. I thought I’d make just a little and that would be it, but I was good at it, really good. And then I didn’t know how to tell you I’d borrowed Kiki’s college fund and how we suddenly had all this extra money. Every day, I kept thinking I’d just earn a little more and then work up the courage to tell you.” She grabbed his hands and said, “Oh, Sam, you don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, how many things I wanted to buy you. That set of Callaway clubs you’ve always dreamed of, a new riding lawnmower, a Rolex—”

“Hey, stop,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “I don’t need all those things. All I ever wanted was you, Cyn.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I’m through with day trading. I promise.”

“What are you talking about?” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. “You’ve got a gift, Cyn. Use it.”

“Really?”

“Hell, yes,” he murmured, framing her face with his hands. “Hell, yes.” He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the tantalizing sweetness of her mouth.

This was what he wanted, all he’d ever wanted. Just Cyn. Nothing and no one else.

She broke the kiss and searched his face. “There’s something else, Sam.”

He forced himself to remain calm when every cell in his body wanted to rage. She was going to tell him about Steve Miller.

“I met a man when I was in Ogunquit.” She swallowed hard, her voice quivering, “His name was Steve Miller and he said he was a photographer.”

“And he offered to take your picture,” Sam said blandly.

She looked shocked. “Actually, yes, he did.”

“And you let him.”

“No, not voluntarily.” She blinked hard and continued. “He invited me to his home because he said I’d make a perfect subject.” Cyn shook her dark head. “And I believed him. Instead, he drugged me and then took pictures. For blackmail.” She bit her lower lip, locked her gaze on the collar of his shirt.

“Jesus.”

“I ended up on the lawn of Tula Rae’s. Of course, we went to the police but there wasn’t much they could do without evidence.”

“Did he…did you…?” Sam struggled with the words.

“No.” She dragged her gaze to his. “There was no sign of sexual assault. Just horrible humiliation.” Her voice dipped. “And a feeling of being dirty, no matter how many showers I took.”

Sam wanted to kill the bastard.

“He seemed so normal, but he’s been blackmailing unsuspecting women for years. When he tried to blackmail me, Derry stepped in and set him up.”

“What are you talking about?” Alec told him Derry had been with Steve Miller, too.

“She used herself as a decoy. She’s the reason the police arrested Steve Miller.”

“So, she wasn’t
with
him?”

“No, why would you think that?”

Because Alec has pictures.
“I don’t know. You have to admit, she seems like the kind that might fall in with a guy like that.”

“
I
fell in with him, Sam.
She
pulled me out.”

“How?”

“Crushed valium in scotch.” Cyn stroked his hair, his cheek, his jaw. “I just want to start over. If I learned one thing from this trip, it’s how much I love you and the girls, and how good my life is, just the way it is.” Her voice dipped. “Can you forgive me, Sam? Can we start over, please?”

“I…” He blocked out the past six weeks. The fear of losing his wife, the pain of believing she’d slept with another man, the agony of rushing to the emergency room for his two daughters, the unforgivable behavior he’d exhibited with a stranger in front of Kiki. It was all too much.
He
needed to forget. “Yes,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “We’ll start over, just the two of us.”

He took her hand and led her upstairs. The girls wouldn’t be home for another three hours. Thank God. Sam closed the bedroom door and pulled Cyn into his arms. The need to come together burned through him as they clung to one another, lips and tongues intertwined. His hands roamed his wife’s body, cupping her buttocks, sliding inside the slim band of underwear, desperate to touch skin, make her part of him.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He dragged his mouth along the naked skin of her neck and she moaned. He lifted her shirt and knelt on the carpet, placing soft kisses on her belly. Sam held her gaze as he unzipped her shorts and slid them down. “I want you.”

She stepped out of her shorts and kicked them aside. “Come by the bed.”

He would have crawled on the roof if she’d asked him to right now. Sam made it to the bed in three steps. Cyn knelt beside him and slowly unbuckled his belt.

“I want you,” she murmured, sliding her hands inside his jockey shorts and pulling them down. She bent over and took him into her mouth. Sam groaned and jerked against her. “Cyn…you don’t have to do this.” He groaned again, unable to stand the sweet torture of her mouth on him. “I know you don’t like this…”

She answered by taking him deeper into her mouth. “Ah, Cyn.” He closed his eyes and moved his hips, harder, faster, burying his hands in her silky hair. Everything ceased to exist but her tongue on him. He lurched against her, once, twice, and when he felt his climax pulsing, he eased her onto the bed and spread her legs. “I need to be inside you.” He plunged into her, grabbing her buttocks as he moved with deep, intense strokes.

“Sam,” she moaned, her legs wrapped tight around him, pulling him deeper inside.

He let out a desperate groan as his climax overtook him, ripping at his self-control with a force both exultant and petrifying in its sheer rawness. Cyn moaned, thrashing her head from side to side, eyes squeezed shut as she convulsed against him. Sam collapsed next to her, his lips pressed to the hollow spot of her neck.