The Secret Lives of Housewives (25 page)

“Are you going to tell Angie and Cait? We have girls' night out this Sunday.”

“What can I tell them, when I don't know anything myself? Within a week I'll know more.” She paused, deep in thought, then said with a sigh, “There's more to this than even you know so I probably will tell them. I need help with several decisions and you and Angie and Cait are just the women who can give me guidance.”

 

The following Sunday was Halloween, so driving through East Hudson had been an adventure for Monica, with children of all ages wandering the streets, dressed in all manner of costumes. Heedless of the fact that in their dark clothing they were almost invisible, they tramped up and down front walks, occasionally waving flashlights and lugging gigantic bags of loot. Although she drove through side streets at about fifteen miles per hour, Monica barely missed several children who recklessly darted out between cars.

The four women gathered in their familiar booth in Huckleberry's. Several of the customers, and all of the wait staff, were in costume, and the women smiled as they surveyed their surroundings. “What a zoo,” Cait said as their order for three piña coladas, a Diet Coke for Angie, and nachos was taken by a waiter dressed as a gypsy dancer. Once she was gone, Cait continued, “I'm so glad Tony's doing so well.”

“Actually, he's fine,” Angie said. “Except for a really nasty scar on his shoulder, he's back to where he was before the ‘happening.' That's what we've been calling it since the word shooting makes me cringe.”

“I'm so glad the shooter wasn't one of his students,” Monica said. The four women had been keeping in touch by phone and had seen each other briefly during the yoga class but it was especially good to be able to meet again, face to face, and further reassure each other about Tony's physical and mental health.

Monica noticed a new glow on Angie's face as she answered, “No, it wasn't. Tony said that most of his kids, as he calls them—even though several of them tower over him—have e-mailed him and begged him to come back. A few of the letters were slightly illiterate, but all of them were genuinely touching. He's thinking of going back to his old classroom. That frightened me at first, but I think it's what he really wants.”

“Is he going to sue?” Cait asked.

“We must have gotten a hundred calls, letters, and e-mails from lawyers who want to take his case, and the union is involved. I don't know what he's going to do since there were no out-of-pocket expenses. The lawyers all point out that lax security and ineffective police work finding the gun after the previous shooting were responsible for what happened, but Tony keeps saying, ‘Shit happens and they can't protect us from everything and maintain an atmosphere where any learning goes on.' The system might offer a settlement anyway, in addition to the desk job, if he takes it. It would be nice to have something in the bank for the twins' education,” she said, fiddling with her napkin, “but I can't help but agree with Tony. Shit happens.”

“Did they find the gun?” Monica asked.

“Oh, yeah. They didn't have to look for it this time. Several of the kids in Tony's class tackled the shooter and stomped on him until the school security officers arrived.”

“They have security officers?” Eve looked truly shocked.

“It's a really tough school, which I didn't realize until Tony told me all about it in the hospital.”

“Still, he wants to go back.”

“He's seriously thinking about it. He really loves the kids and thinks he's making a difference. He teaches them about books and filling out job applications, along with deceptive advertising and taking some responsibility for what politicians do. From the passion with which he talks, I think he probably does get to some of them.”

Their drinks and chips arrived, served by a waitress dressed as a vampire. They took deep swallows, then Eve asked, “What about Jordanna? I still can't believe what she did.”

“I think Tony's through with her. He couldn't believe that she'd said she was his wife and was doubly furious that I couldn't get in because of it. She pled innocent, but I think she knew. Cait was a tiger.”

Cait chewed a chip. “I think Tony understands what's been going on. I gather things are pretty good between you.”

“Very good. Except the twins are cutting molars. Some things never change.” They all laughed.

Monica looked at Eve but she remained silent. When Eve was ready, if she was that evening at all, she'd tell Angie and Cait about the lump. “How's Dan, and is there any news about the partnership?” Eve said, turning the conversation in a different direction.

“Another knotty problem,” Monica said slowly. With all the terror about Eve's lump, she hadn't shared this part of her job difficulties with anyone. Her problems seemed so small. She related her conversation with Harrison Conroy. “I know exactly what he wants, and every time I think I've decided to kick him in the nuts, a little voice chides me and talks about how great the partnership would be. After all, I'm not getting any younger.”

Cait made a rude noise. “What does Dan think?”

“I haven't told him about my ‘extra-curricular activities' or my conversation with Mr. Conroy. He says he loves me, but I'm still not sure he's ready to hear all about me and my job.”

“He actually used the ‘L' word?” Angie asked.

“He did, and I think I feel the same way about him.”

“You've been putting this off for a long time, Monica,” Cait said. “Don't you trust Dan to stick around if you tell him?”

Monica was silent for several moments. “I hadn't thought about it that way but you're probably right. I don't trust him not to run out if things get difficult, even with the ‘L' word…”

“It's time to fish or cut bait,” Eve said, a purposeful tone in her voice. “For all of us.”

“All of us?” Cait said, her head snapping around to face Eve. “What the hell does that mean?”

Monica reached out and took Eve's hand. “I've been to a doctor and had tests,” Eve said. “I have a lump in my right breast.”

There was silence for a heartbeat, then Angie said, “Of course, it's benign.”

“We don't know yet. The tests next week should tell us that, so I have to wait. Patience isn't something I'm good at.”

“Oh, God, Eve, I'm so sorry,” Angie said. “How long have you known?”

“Less than two weeks but it seems like months.”

“You didn't tell us,” Angie said, looking slightly hurt.

“Oh, Angie, you had enough on your mind. I didn't tell anyone but Monica and I only told her because I needed her help finding a doctor.”

“Can one of us go with you?” Cait asked, reaching out to hold Eve's hand.

“Monica's been a gem. She went with me to the oncologist and she'll keep me company next week, as well. It's already planned.” She gripped Cait's hand. “Thanks so much for the offer, Cait. I have no doubt that you'd be there for me if I needed you.”

“I'm glad you were there for her, Monica,” Angie said. “I'm just frustrated that I can't do anything.”

“Me, too,” Cait said. “I want to help in some way.”

“You do help, just by being here for me.”

Monica watched Eve's efforts not to cry. “I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you guys,” she said, “but this was Eve's story to tell.”

“Of course,” Cait said. “We understand. Sometimes there are things that are private.”

“Private. Yeah. There's something else,” Eve said, cradling her glass in her hands, “something that I haven't told anyone. Facing my own mortality, I've been thinking about someone from my past.” She fiddled with her straw, then took a long drink of her piña colada.

“You don't have to tell us anything, if it makes you so uncomfortable,” Monica said. “We all have secrets.”

“I hate keeping secrets,” Eve said, “but this one's been deep in my gut for almost sixteen years.” She paused, then said quickly, “I have a daughter.”

There was dead silence around the table so she continued. “I was in high school and there was a guy. It was brief, but I found myself pregnant. To make a long and, I guess, irrelevant story short, I left the area and had the baby. It was a little girl and I gave her up for adoption.”

Again Eve took a swallow, then set her glass down in front of her with a slight clatter. “It was an open adoption so I know the family who took Brittany.” Her smile was distant and wan. “I named her that even before she was born. I'd always loved that name and the new family agreed to keep it. They also agreed to tell her that she was adopted, but say that they didn't know anything about her birth mother. Otherwise, I left everything to them.”

“Do they live around here?”

“In Mount Kisco. I've never visited or even driven past the house, but I know the address. I asked that they keep me informed if they moved, but they've been in the same house since the year after they adopted my daughter. They are really nice people and they drop me a card from time to time with school pictures and such.” She took a long, slow breath. “My daughter. I haven't said those words out loud in more than fifteen years.”

“Are you thinking about seeing her now?” Monica asked. She couldn't imagine how Eve was feeling. To have a child and not have seen her for all those years. It was probably for the best for Brittany, but it must have caused Eve so much pain.

“Every doctor I've seen recently asked me about my family history and of course, I was able to tell them everything I knew. I've denied Brittany that and maybe a lot more. I think I do want to see her. When you look your future, whatever it holds, in the face, lots of things get clearer.” Again she paused, then added, “I told Mike good-bye.”

“Good for you. How did he take it?” Cait asked.

“He was upset, but what could he say? He said that he hoped I'd change my mind, that he'd miss me—he even went so far as to say he loved me. He didn't really mean it, it was just something he said to try to get me to stay. It's going to be awkward working with him, but I'll get over that and I don't care whether he does or not.”

“More important things seem to put others in perspective,” Angie said, obviously thinking of Tony's shooting.

“Yeah, they do,” Eve said. “I have no idea what I'd say to Brittany, but I think I have to try. I owe us both that.”

When the three other women lapsed into silence, Angie took a deep breath and said, “I wasn't going to say anything this early but I think we all need some good news. At least I think it's good news.” She sipped her coffee. “About a month ago, Tony and I did a dumb thing and had sex without protection.”

“You're not!” Cait said, and Monica suddenly realized the reason for Angie's Diet Coke.

“I am. I took one of those pregnancy tests yesterday.”

The three other women squealed in delight. Monica watched Eve's face to see whether a new baby would make her even sadder about giving her daughter away, but she saw nothing but joy on her friend's face. “That news makes everything else a little less scary,” Eve said. “Thanks for sharing it. I've only just begun to realize what a special thing a baby is.” As Eve reached over and hugged Angie, Monica realized that the deep friendship that she and these three other wonderful, totally different women shared was one of the best partnerships that life had to offer. Maybe she and Dan could become another such partnership. They were good friends and great lovers. What more was there?

She slid out of the booth and wrapped her arms around Angie, letting all the love she felt for her show. “Ladies,” she said to the occupants of their booth, “I think I'm going home and calling Dan. We've got a lot of talking to do.”

The other three raised their glasses. “Here's to all our changes. May everything go the way we all want.”

Monica grabbed her glass and drank deeply. “Amen to that.” Then she hastened out of the restaurant.

A
s Cait left Huckleberry's and bade good night to the other women, she thought about tonight's news. Eve might have cancer, and had a child. Tony was almost completely recovered and Angie was pregnant again. My God, so much was happening. Children were at the center of so much. Children made everything different. Maybe she'd talk to Logan again.

As she climbed into her cold car she shivered, pulled her heavy jacket around her, and looked carefully around the parking lot for the dark, late-model sedan she'd seen cruising her neighborhood several times in the past week. Why hadn't she shared her fears with her friends? She hadn't wanted to frighten them the way she was frightened, probably for nothing. What were the odds that he'd found her, that he even had the desire to pursue her? She was imagining things. Wasn't she?

It was also difficult to admit to anyone that she'd been so stupid. She'd all but told Hotguy her full name and where she lived. What an idiot she'd been. Hot chatting wasn't inherently dangerous as long as you were wary. She hadn't been.

She drove home slowly and carefully, Johnny Cash pounding through her car's speakers but not cutting the edge of fear that seemed to pervade everything she did these days. She'd snapped at Logan the one time he'd come home at a reasonable hour that week. Even surfing the 'Net hadn't helped. Between her nightmares and her constantly shaking hands, she could barely function. Her friends had noticed it, but even when asked, she denied the truth.

Fortunately the number of young children on the streets had dwindled to a few small bunches. She passed a few cars covered with flour and eggs and one tree in the neighborhood that had been festooned with toilet paper. Shaving cream had been sprayed liberally on several mailboxes. A few teens still hung out in groups here and there, dressed in outlandish getups, smoking and howling at passing cars. Thankfully Halloween was waning for another year.

She drove down Sheraton and eased into her garage without having to touch her brakes. At least something still worked, she thought as she walked into her kitchen. Of course Logan wasn't home. He was with his girlfriend. Yes, she'd finally admitted to herself that he had to be having an affair. His excuses for not coming home had been getting lamer and lamer and he certainly wasn't working tonight. It was Sunday.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Logan's cell. “Yes, Cait,” Logan answered, sounding totally exasperated. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

“I can hear how busy,” she said, listening to the chatter of voices in the background. He was somewhere in public. Probably out at some bar with his bimbo. Maybe Monica was right. All men were shits. “Just wondering whether you're planning on coming home at all.”

“I'll be home later.”

“Logan, I think I've had enough.” Eve's talk about cancer had frightened her enough to make her realize that she had nothing in her life, no children, no marriage, no nothing. Actually, Logan made it less than nothing. Money or no money, prestige or none, she'd had enough. “If you come home at all, sleep in the guest room. I'm done.”

“Cait, calm down. I can hear that you're upset. We'll talk about this.” He was using that infuriatingly cajoling tone he used when he wanted something. This time he wasn't getting it.

“I am upset, but I'm also calm. I'm done with this sham of a marriage.”

“Honey, relax. We'll talk in the morning.”

“Damn him,” she hissed as she pressed the
END
button, then flipped the phone closed and dropped it into her jacket pocket. No use fooling herself, she thought. Her life was falling apart. Except for Angie, Monica, and Cait, she had nothing. She let out a long sigh. Monica had Dan, Angie had Tony, and Eve had her daughter. She walked slowly up the stairs and dropped her purse on her dresser. She didn't immediately flip on the light, preferring the darkness. Moonlight shone through her bedroom window, giving her enough light to make out the door to the bathroom. A hot shower would clear some of the fog that had invaded her brain. She started to slip her arm out of her jacket.

“Hi, Cait, or should I say Loverlady.” The voice came from a darkened corner of the room. “I've been looking forward to this for weeks.”

Hotguy! She recognized his voice. This was no nightmare. Everything she'd dreaded was right here in this room with her. Her brain seized up like a motor running without any oil.
No,
she thought.
I can't let him terrify me. I have to keep my wits about me.
She tried to calm herself with her yoga breathing, then slipped her arm back into her sleeve. “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling a bit calmer but making sure fear showed in her voice.
Go ahead. Underestimate me, you bastard.

“I'm here to be with you, of course,” he said.

Brett. That was the name he'd told her. She'd been calling him Hotguy so long she'd almost forgotten. She schooled her voice to show fear, and the attempt to cover it up. Most of that was true, of course, but she wasn't going to be the wimp he expected. “Brett, I think I told you I wasn't interested. I'm not, so go away.”

“You're such a liar. You know you're interested. Rape fantasies. That's what turns you on, and I'm about to make your fantasies real. Isn't that wonderful?”

He sounded so calm, so reasonable, as if he believed that she wanted it. She didn't. “This isn't what I want at all, Brett, and I think you know that.”

“It's not Brett. That's just one of my identities. I'd like you to call me by my real name. It's Nick. Say it, Cait. Nick.”

My God, she really knew nothing at all about him. Even the name he'd given her was a phony. She really was a fool, one who could get badly hurt if she wasn't careful and very, very clever. She took a slow, deep breath. Whether for his own gratification or because he really thought she wanted it, she was going to be raped unless she could think of something to stop it. Under the cover of the shadows she reached into her pocket, slowly flipped her phone open, felt around the keypad, and pushed the
SEND
button twice to redial. Then she pressed her thumb over the speaker opening so any sound Logan might make would be at least partially muffled.

Hoping that Logan could hear what was going on, and that he cared, she said, “Nick. Don't hurt me. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I thought I made that clear,” he said, his voice totally matter-of-fact. “I'm here because you want me here.”

“I do not want you here so get out.” Could Logan hear anything? She palmed the phone and pulled it slightly out of her pocket so the sound would be louder. “Get out. My husband will be home any minute.”

“That pussy-whipped idiot? He's not good enough for you. I'll admit you've got a nice house, but any guy who'd let his wife play with me on the 'Net isn't man enough for you. Anyway, he hasn't been home before midnight any night this week, including last Sunday night.”

“I'm sure someone saw you sneaking around the neighborhood and into my house. They'll call the cops.” She prayed Logan was getting the hint and had already called the police.

Nick stepped from the shadows, dressed in black jeans, a black, long-sleeved polo shirt and black leather jacket. He held out the rubber head and face mask he had in his hand. “That's why I chose tonight,” he said, as if explaining himself to a small child. “Anyone who saw me thought I was your run of the mill trick-or-treater.” His laugh was deep and menacing. “Trick being the operative word. And you're going to be my treat.”

Her glance flicked to the control panel for the alarm system but Brett—no, his name was Nick—followed her eyes. “Don't think about tripping the panic button. I can be on you before you move. I might hurt you that way and I really don't want to.” He took a step forward. “I love this game you're playing with me. I can see how much you want this, and how good a job you're doing covering it up. You're doing it all so well. Have you practiced this with many other men?”

Maybe he really was deluded. “I don't want this! Not even a little bit! Playing out a rape fantasy is very different from wanting it in reality. Why don't you just leave and we'll forget this entire mix-up?”

He laughed as he took another step forward. “Mix-up? That's a good one. Right, a mix-up. Like you didn't all but invite me over to do this.”

What would the cops do, assuming Logan had called them? Would they show up with flashing lights and sirens? Probably not, she reasoned with the part of her brain still functioning. They'd consider this a hostage situation since she was in the bedroom with a rapist. They'd probably sneak up to the house, then get on the loud speakers like in the TV cop shows. She had to stall him until that happened. What if Logan didn't hear her and had just hung up? No, she had to think positively. The cops were on the way. She used her thumb to stroke the back of the phone, warm in her hand. “I didn't invite you. I can see how you'd think that way, but it's all a misunderstanding. If you leave now then there's been no harm done.”

Suddenly he was on her, his hand twisting her hair behind her head. “No harm done? You bitch. Of course there's no harm done. I haven't done anything yet.” The phone dropped to the bottom of her pocket and she stumbled backwards until the backs of her thighs hit the bed. “There's lots of time. We've got all night.” He grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled, sending buttons flying everywhere. “That's better. Let's get some harm done.”

He pushed and overbalanced, Cait fell backwards onto the king-sized bed.
Logan, hear me!
She felt the phone trapped in her jacket pocket beneath her, pressing into her hip.
Call the cops, Logan. Please.
In case he wasn't there, she knew she couldn't let this happen. She scrabbled until her knees were beneath her then skittered across the bed.

“You're doing this just right.” His voice was low and she could make out the wide smile on his face. “I love it when women fight me.” He reached out and snagged her ankle with one hand. “Keep it up, Loverlady.” He rubbed the front of his jeans with his free hand. “You're making it better and better. My cock loves this.”

She twisted and kicked out with her imprisoned ankle and was almost free when he suddenly backhanded her across the face. She saw stars and the pain made her crumple. When he hit her again, this time with his fist, she felt her teeth snick together. She tasted blood from the spot where she had bitten her cheek and her entire face began to throb. “Lie still or I'm going to have to hurt you more.”

Although her urge was to run, she quieted. She'd get her chance. “That's a good girl.” He grabbed one wrist and pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket. “See? I've come prepared.” As he bent over to tie the cloth to one wrist, she measured her leg's reach, and in one quick motion, backed by all of her body's yoga training, she lashed out and caught him in the groin with her heel. It had the desired effect. He let out a huge burst of air, then crumpled to the floor, hands cupping his crotch. “Bitch,” he hissed. “Bitch.” He pulled in a large breath. “You'll pay for that and it won't help!”

She ran for the bedroom door, then down the stairs. Bursting out the front door, she was met with a bright light in her face. “Stand still!” an authoritative voice commanded. “Police. Don't move.” She took a deep breath. Logan had heard her after all.

“He's upstairs in the bedroom,” she said, suddenly seeing stars.

“Keep your hands out where we can see them,” the voice said, “until we sort this all out.”

It was as though every bit of strength she had abruptly drained out of her body. Barely able to stand, she extended her hands at shoulder level. Her entire head was throbbing, her jaw ached, and her nose and mouth were bleeding. “Name?” the voice asked.

“Cait Johnson. That's Caitlin. I live here. The guy was…” That's when it all fell apart. She crumpled to the ground, started to weep, and couldn't stop.

Several minutes later she came around, lying on the ambulance stretcher, waiting to be loaded inside. She saw three women run across the lawn, looking almost as stricken as Cait felt. “My God,” Angie said. “Are you okay?”

“What happened?” Eve asked, while Monica just wrapped her arms around her friend. “It's okay,” she said. “We're here for you, whatever you need.”

The medic handed her an ice pack, and as she placed it against her cheek, Cait sniffled. “Right now I need a tissue.” Angie handed her a pocket pack while Eve held the ice lightly against her face. She gently blew her bleeding nose several times, then took the ice pack back. “I must look a fright,” she said, trying to smile through the excruciating pain in her face.

“Well,” Monica said, “the Miss America judges rated you very low.”

She started to chuckle but the pain stopped her. “God, don't make me laugh.”

“I'm amazed that you can,” Eve said. “We got a sketchy description of what happened from the cops. Kneed him in the balls, I gather.”

“Kicked him right where he deserved it,” Cait said.