The Last Original Wife (24 page)

Actually, I thought to myself, that's kind of a funny point because what
were
my needs? I'd been so consumed by Wes and the children I'd never had time to develop any personal desires. I gardened, true, but mostly out of a sense of duty to the house. Okay, I'll admit I got some pleasure out of the results, and the work itself was a great way to relieve stress. But the only passion I really ever had, my love of chamber music, had been squelched by Wes's aversion to it. Well, things are going to be very different from now on, I told myself. Very different. Maybe I'd indulge myself in endless concerts, learn all about it. Maybe I'd grow fruit trees and wire gorgeous music into the garden of wherever I wound up living.

As soon as I passed Orangeburg and changed counties, I opened my windows and let the edges of the Lowcountry rush inside. It's just a fact of life that the air around Charleston is sweeter and thick. I wanted to drink it. I called Jonathan when I was about thirty miles outside of the city. He didn't pick up, so I just left a message that I'd be home soon.

Just as I was coming into the business area on the outskirts of Charleston, my cell phone rang. It was Harlan calling from Milan. I pulled into a gas station to talk to him.

“Ciao, bella! Come stai?”

“Tutto bene!” I said, using all my Italian in one exchange. “When are you getting home? I have so much to tell you!” I pulled over into a filling station.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine.”

“Where are you? Do I hear the roar of traffic?”

“Yes, you do. I'm in an Exxon station. As you know, it's against the law to hold a phone and drive an old beat-up car at the same time. I'm just coming back from Atlanta.”

“It's a bad idea anyway, never mind the law. Why did you go to Atlanta? A conjugal visit?”

“Heavens, no! No, this is terrible, but Wes found out that he had testicular cancer, so I went to Atlanta to get him through the surgery.”

“Testicular cancer? Holy Mother Church!
That's terrible!
Is he all right?”

“He's totally fine. They don't think he'll even need chemo.”

“Well, good, I guess. Now, more important, how's my Miss Jo?”

I giggled. I couldn't blame Harlan for not caring too much about Wes's well-being.

“She's been staying with her uncle Jonathan while I was away, and I fear he's spoiled her rotten.”

“Impossible. She couldn't be any more rotten than she is.”

“Well, we're all in love with her. That's a fact.”

“I brought her something she's going to love,” he said, in a voice that told me whatever the gift was that it was something ridiculous.

“Okay, tell me,” I said. “What extravagance did you manage to find?”

“Matching father/daughter Prada raincoats and hats.” He started to laugh. “You know Leonard adored anything Prada.”

“Oh, Harlan, there's no excuse for you!”

“And a great handbag for her auntie too! You'll love it!”

“Oh, Harlan! You are too much, brother. I'm going to make a feast for you!”

“If you'll just throw away all the catalogs and junk mail, that will be sufficient, thanks. Hey, how's Jonathan?”

“Jonathan's great. He's probably the kindest man I've ever met.”

“Hmmm. Sounds lukewarm to me. Don't settle for lukewarm, Les.”

“Hey, Harlan? I'm not settling ever again. Don't worry about that. See you tomorrow. Safe flight!”

Was my relationship with Jonathan lukewarm? Hardly. His kindness is what brought me back to life and made me feel like a woman again. Harlan would see that when he got home. But Harlan would also see that I wasn't ready to jump into another committed relationship with anyone. Besides, Jonathan kept talking about moving across country in perhaps as soon as a year.

By the time I pulled into Harlan's driveway, I had spoken to Jonathan. He had a plan. He was picking me up at six, we were driving out to the beach, and he was making dinner for me.

“Nothing fancy,” he'd said, “but at least you won't have to cook on your first night home.”

I'd told him I'd be ready and I was. I brought all my things inside and placed the pictures I'd brought all around my bedroom and the sitting room. I put a small one of Holly right by my bed. I was excited to see Jonathan. God forgive me, but the few hundred miles between me and Wes felt so good. I'm sorry to say it, but it just did. I was already dreading going back for the wedding.

I had this crazy fluttering in my chest, and the closer it got to six o'clock my pulse picked up speed. But true to his punctual habits, six o'clock rolled around and the doorbell rang.

“Hey!” I said. “It feels like I haven't seen you in a month!”

It was true.

“Hey, yourself!” He gave me a great big hug and a bunch of silly, noisy smooches all over my face that made me laugh. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too. You've got Miss JP in the car?”

“She's out at the beach. I can tell you with authority that she doesn't like the sand at all.”

“Well, of course not. She's got tender little princess paws. That mean old sand gets very hot.”

“I can't believe Harlan doesn't have little sandals for her,” he said. “In eight colors.”

“I know. It's abusive. He'll be home tomorrow. I'll bring it up with him.”

“Tomorrow? Great! I hate to admit it, but I'm not cut out for dogs,” he said.

“Really? I thought you loved Miss Jo.”

“I do. If you could potty train her, I'd love her a lot more. Come on, let's get going. I'm too old to pick up poop.”

He held open my car door, and I slipped in the car next to him.

“Potty train a dog?” I said. “I know they can potty train cats, but I'm too old to share a bathroom with anyone.”

We got to Jonathan's house and pulled up in the yard. I could hear Miss Jo yipping on the other side of the door. She was excited, and when we opened the door, she literally jumped with joy.

“Come here, you darling little girl!” I said, and she flew into my arms, licking my face in a frenzy of dog kisses. “My goodness!”

“Can you imagine what she's going to do when she sees Harlan?”

“She'll pass out cold!” We laughed. Miss Jo was now on the floor, on her back, tongue hanging out with happiness while I rubbed her tummy.

“Feel like a glass of wine?”

“Are you kidding? You cannot believe the week I've just had.”

He poured me a goblet of wine, and he had one for himself.

“I'll bet. Come on outside and let's catch the breeze.”

We walked out to the porch, and the breeze blew my hair all around. It felt like a baptism then, as though the damp salty air cleansed me of all my sins. It was telling me I was home and I was safe. I inhaled, exhaled, took a sip of my wine, and looked at Jonathan with the sparkling ocean and the white dunes and the crazy sky shot with so many colors, all behind him in a panorama of what heaven must look like.

“I love the way you look,” I said. “I love the way your eyebrows grow and the shape of your nose and how you listen with your eyes and ears. You're just wonderful. Do you know that?”

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Darlin'? I've been in the wrong church, in the wrong pew, at the wrong service. The air smells so good out here.”

“Yes, it does. So tell me how it went.”

“Where to start? Wes's surgery was textbook and he's fine, still waiting for the lab report but we're pretty sure he's rid of the cancer, but that doesn't mean it wasn't high drama. My daughter and son? They're another story. They almost drove me insane, and for the first time in forever, I gave them both a piece of my mind.”

“What's the matter with them?”

“My daughter just has this awful attitude. She thinks I live to wait on her like a personal maid. And she's pushy. And she's lazy. My God, she's lazy! She can't even wash a spoon! Can't support her child. And she drinks too much. Only to be outdone by her brother, who looks like a shepherd from the days of Moses. He can't earn a living either. And he smells.”

“Look, my kids gave me a run for my money too, but you can never give up on them. Ever hear the old saying, every flower blooms in its own time? They just haven't bloomed yet.”

“Well, my two are sure taking their sweet time.”

“Hmmm. Listen, just remember; don't give up on them. How old are they?”

“Old enough to act like adults.”

“Maybe now they will. You put the fear of God in them and walked out? I'm sure you gave them a lot to think about.”

“Honestly? I think they were more insulted than put in their place. I hope you're right. I guess a lot remains to be seen.”

“Always. Be thankful that life's long. You hungry? I've got a bowl of steamed shrimp in the refrigerator. And some kind of avocado, tomato, mozzarella salad they were selling at Whole Foods.”

“That sounds like exactly what I want.”

He had set the table in his dining room, but in the end we decided to eat at the table on the porch. The air was too delicious to ignore and peeling shrimp was a messy business anyway. We talked and ate until the island was covered in darkness, and then we lit some hurricane-covered candles and talked some more.

“So I promised him I'd go to this therapy with him, which I'm sure will be a complete waste of time and money.”

“Most therapy is a narcissistic exercise,” Jonathan said.

“Honey? You think Wes Carter is in this to justify his exemplary behavior and have a professional agree with him? Heck, no. He's trying to keep control of every single asset. It's all about control. He thinks a therapist can make
me
see the error of
my
ways, as though this will help me calm down and spend the rest of my life making Wes's breakfast. Ain't happening. You should've heard him. He said he set this all up for
me
so
I
wouldn't have any regrets.”

“Good grief. The subtle manipulation. I hate head games.”

“Me too. The only regret I have is that I agreed to go back.”

“Well, a few sessions with a shrink are one thing. But I can't imagine you going back to that life. I mean, it's your decision. You have to do what you think is the best thing for you.”

“Don't worry. I'm never going back. This visit convinced me of that more than ever.”

“You're not stringing me along, are you, Leslie?”

“Why in the world would you say that?”

“Therapy makes me nervous. A clever therapist can make you believe a lot of things.”

“I'll be on guard.”

In the morning, Jonathan dropped me and Miss Jo off at Harlan's and then went on to work. It was so easy to be with him. As much as I proclaimed that I wasn't going to get into a serious relationship with anyone, I could slide right into Jonathan's life like a hand slips into the perfect-fitting kid glove. We both knew it. The truth was that Jonathan was as much a friend as he was a lover and maybe at this point in my life, that was what I needed. Maybe as you aged, what you wanted from a relationship changed too. Yes, I could see that. It wasn't so terrible to get older if you could be with someone who had a good sense of how much you wanted and if how much you were willing to give was enough for them. No, Jonathan and I were in a comfortable groove.

I thought about this as I rushed around, tidying up all the rooms, putting fresh flowers in the dining room and a small vase of roses right from the garden next to Harlan's bed, but there was already one there. This house was making me a wreck. I lifted the vase and inhaled. They smelled delicious enough to eat. His e-mail said he was arriving at three, and I still had tons to do to prepare for his homecoming. I fluffed his pillows and changed his towels, which were probably dusty from sitting there for a month, and I checked the liquor cabinet, making a list of what to replenish. Then I shopped, deciding to make rack of lamb for dinner with mashed potatoes and those little French string beans. Comfort food. And I made an apple tart. Harlan loved apples. Okay, I used a premade crust, but the house smelled fantastic and I knew Harlan would be so happy.

All the while I flitted from room to room, Miss Jo was on my heels, following me everywhere. Every time I said,
Daddy's coming home,
she wagged her tail and barked. It was as though she knew Harlan was on his way back to her. Finally, at around three, she sat in front of her wardrobe closet and barked like mad. She wanted a new outfit. I didn't blame her. She'd most likely been wearing the same dress all week.

“I'm with you, girl. Jonathan's a great guy but all that seersucker? It doesn't scream fashionista, does it? I think it's time to resurrect the martini dress and the Barbara Bush pearls. What do you think?”

Soon, I was pulling into the Charleston Airport with a coiffed Miss Jo. Now, I'm not saying she knew
exactly
what was going on, but she recognized the airport as a place where people came and went. We parked, went inside, checked the arrivals board, and waited in the baggage claim. His plane had just touched down.

Minutes later, here he came. Miss Jo was so excited she wiggled her way out of my arms, jumped to the floor, and strained against her leash until he reached her.

“Yes, yes! My sweet! Daddy's home! Hey, Les!”

“Hey, Harlan.”

I couldn't stop laughing. It was the sweetest thing I ever saw. Miss Jo was wild with enthusiasm. Wild! She sat, she held out her paw, she walked on her hind legs, she rolled over, and she sat up to beg. She performed all her tricks to show Harlan how happy she was that he was back. Finally, he picked her up and cuddled her, and only then did she begin to calm down.

“Thank the Lord I only have one dog!” he said, and we laughed.