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Authors: Richard Paul Evans

Promise Me (5 page)

BOOK: Promise Me
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Heart you
,

Ash

There was a smudged crimson lipstick kiss at the bottom of the note.

My heart, my lungs, the whole world, froze. Then I began to tremble. “He's cheating on me.”

“I'm sorry,” Roxanne said, looking pale. “Maybe it's . . .” she stopped. There was no other explanation.

“He's going to Scottsdale on Tuesday.” I looked up at her blankly. “We're so happy. Why would he . . .” My eyes filled with tears.

“Baby.” She put her arms around me. “That stupid, boneheaded creep,” she said. “A gorgeous feast like you at home and he goes dumpster-diving.”

My head was spinning and I felt light-headed, like I might faint.

“Sit down,” Roxanne said. “Breathe.” She pushed a chair toward me. “Here, breathe, honey.”

I sat as everything around me spun. After a while, I don't know how long, I said, “I've got to go. I'm sorry. I've got to go.”

“Honey, be careful. Let me drive you.”

“I just need to go.” I stood and walked outside to my car.
Roxanne followed me out. “Baby, don't do anything crazy. What are you going to do? Tell me what you're going to do.”

“I'm going to talk to my husband.”

The drive home was a blur. That stupid note lay open on the seat next to me. Every time I looked at it, the lipstick kiss seemed to jump off the paper at me, sharp as a slap. I felt so humiliated. So small. So stupid.

At one red light I completely melted down, sobbing, until the car behind me laid on the horn.

Five minutes later I screeched into our driveway. Shaking, I walked into the house. Maybe you're supposed to rehearse these things, but I had no idea what I was going to say. Marc was sitting on the couch next to Charlotte reading her a book. He looked up at me as I entered the room. “Hey, you're back early,” he said smiling. His expression changed when he saw my tear-swollen face. “What's wrong?”

“Who is she?”

“Wha . . .”

I held up the note. “Who is
she
?”

He looked stricken, like one of those guys on a
Dateline
sting who's just been caught on camera. He glanced down at Charlotte, then back at me and stood up. “Come here,” he said to me. “Charlotte doesn't need to hear this.”

“Where you going, Daddy?” Charlotte asked.

“Daddy and Mommy need to talk,” he said.

I followed him into our bedroom. I was trembling with all the emotions that were flowing through me. “Who is she?”

He took a deep breath. “She works up in Ogden. She's a supply manager for St. Jude's recover—”

I screamed, “I don't care about her résumé! Who is she?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “She's a woman I met a while back. We've been . . . seeing each other.”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe six months.”

“You're not sure.” I tried to maintain my composure. “Why? Why would you do that?”

He just stood there looking dumb.

“You need to go. You need to leave this house.”

“Beth.” He reached out for me. “Honey—”

“Don't touch me. Don't call me honey. Don't say my name. You need to go.”

“She doesn't mean anything to me.”

I began to cry again. “Well, she means a lot to me.”

Just then our bedroom door opened. “Daddy?”

“Not now, Charlotte,” I said.

“. . . I threw up.”

“Get out,” I said to Marc.

“Come on, Beth.” He again took a step toward me, his arms extended.

“Don't touch me!” I screamed. “How could you do this to me?”

Charlotte started crying. “Stop yelling at Daddy!”

“Charlotte,” Marc said. “I'll be out in a minute. Go back
and watch TV.” Charlotte took a few steps from the door, then stopped, frightened but too fearful to leave.

I put my hand over my eyes. I wanted to die. With all my heart I wanted to die. When I looked up, I said, “I thought we had a good marriage.” My voice cracked, “I thought you loved me.”

“Beth, I do love you. It's not . . .”

I looked at him. “It's not what?”

“It's not as bad as you think.”

I stared at him in utter amazement. “How much worse could it be?”

“She's just a friend.”

“This is what you do with your friends?”

“Please don't make this worse than it is. I was going to tell you. I've been trying to end this.”

“You need to go. Go to your girlfriend, your . . . Ash, or whatever her stupid name is.”

“I don't love her, Beth. I love
you
.”

I slapped him. “How dare you say that! How dare you?” I started sobbing again.

“Daddy!” Charlotte screamed. “Don't hit Daddy.”

“Charlotte,” Marc said. “Go to your room now!”

My legs felt weak, like I might collapse. “Please go,” I pleaded. “Please, just go away.”

He exhaled deeply. “Okay.” He took a few steps toward the door, then turned back. “It's not your fault,” he said.

“Why would you even say that?”

“Because I know you. I know you'll blame yourself later.
But don't.” He walked outside of the bedroom, still within my view. “Come here, Char-char,” he said. “Daddy's got to go away on another trip.”

“I don't want you to go,” she said, her voice cracking. “Please don't go.”

“I'm sorry, honey, I have to. But I'll call. I promise.”

She grabbed onto his legs and began to cry. “Is it because Mommy hit you?”

He crouched down, and wrapped his arms around her. “I have to go. And Mommy didn't do anything bad. Daddy was bad. And Mommy will be here for you. She'll take good care of you.” I didn't know if Marc was talking to Charlotte or me. He kissed the top of her head. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” I'm not sure why, but he looked back at me. I turned away. Marc kissed her again, then stood. “Be brave now. Go to Mommy.”

She wiped her eyes. “Okay.”

Marc stood and walked away. Charlotte came into the room and wrapped her arms around my legs. I knew I needed to be strong for Charlotte, but I failed miserably. I broke down crying as soon as I heard the front door shut. I couldn't help it. It was as if the ground had given in beneath me and I fell to my knees and wept. I kept asking myself the same question:
How could he do this to us?
I loved him. I would have loved him forever. I would have stayed with him forever. Our fairy-tale romance had burned to the ground. Ash was a fitting name for the other woman.

Life is a house of cards, balanced on a teeter-totter, precariously perched on a roller coaster. The only thing that should surprise us about our surprises is that we are surprised by them.

Beth Cardall's Diary

Roxanne called the house several times that night, but I couldn't bring myself to answer the phone, so she took it on herself to come by around seven. She let herself in the front door and walked right into my bedroom. Charlotte was in the living room watching television. I was lying in my bed with the night-table lamp still on. I'm certain that my face was as puffy as a bag of marshmallows.

“Oh, baby,” she said when she saw me. She sat on the bed next to me, her legs dangling from the side. “Are you okay?”

“I made him leave,” I said hoarsely.

“Of course you did.”

“Charlotte was so upset.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Charlotte's still sick.”

Roxanne shook her head. “Baby, when it rains it pours. That's why you got me. I'm your umbrella and your galoshes.” She gently ran her hand over my cheek. “I called Ray and told him I wouldn't be home tonight. What have you got for dinner?”

“I'm not hungry. Charlotte . . .”

“Don't worry about a thing, I'll make Charlotte a grilled
cheese, she loves those. Then I'll give her a bath and get her ready for bed. You just rest.” She slid from the bed.

“Rox.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever I can do, baby. That's what I do, whatever I can do.”

We still don't know what's wrong with Charlotte. I'd like to cry a swimming pool, but then I'd probably drown myself in it.

Beth Cardall's Diary

BOOK: Promise Me
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