Into the Quiet

by Beth C. Greenberg

  Ruthie flipped onto her side, her back to Zach. Without a moment’s hesitation, Zach burrowed under the covers and snuggled in close. When one’s wife writes her sexual fantasies in vivid detail, a wise husband does not let the intel go to waste. It just so happened that Zach had very recently taken a refresher course taught by none other than Henry the handyman.

  Zach wouldn’t describe himself as a masochist, and yet, how else could he explain Monday night’s self-flagellation? Riding high on the board’s approval, Zach had taken Joan to dinner, where they’d finished off a bottle of Caymus. The buzz followed him back to his hotel room, where he’d planned to fall into a deep, contented sleep. Unfortunately, the giant wall of loneliness waiting inside his room didn’t get the memo. Not only was Ruthie not there to share Zach’s success, but he fully expected she’d be upset with him—like, marriage-rocking upset—for keeping the move a secret. To top it all off, Ruthie was back home in Indiana playing house with the hot, horny handyman.

  Somehow, in the grip of his maudlin, wine-infused mood, Zach had decided a reread of Fixer Upper would bring him closer to Ruthie. Two hours later, Zach knew for sure the reread had been a terrible mistake. What had once lived as a mere fictitious flight of fantasy had materialized in flesh and blood as if conjured by Ruthie’s words. Pinocchio had become a real boy, and it wasn’t Quentin’s nose that kept Zach up at night. Perhaps most troubling of all, Zach had sprouted wood from the reread. Despite basically watching his wife have an affair, Zach was turned on. And boy, did that piss him off.

  He’d slept poorly and sucked it up for the real estate agent, but his heart wasn’t in it. Every showing was a new mistress. The apartment Zach suspected Ruthie would love was the sluttiest of all, splayed open in the light of day, displaying all her treasures for every stranger who walked through the door. Later, he’d cloaked himself in the monkey suit and danced for his new investors. Not that Zach minded; he just missed his dance partner. And then she showed up.

  Henry retreated to the realm of the imaginary, where he was not only tolerable but instructive. Thea was all about the slow tease. Zach could manage that, now that they’d gotten the initial, frantic bone-jumping out of the way. He started with a tickle at her neck and moved lower with a whisper-light touch. Ruthie never could resist a back scratch, especially when chased by a trail of soft kisses across her shoulders. She rewarded him with a sigh and wriggled backward against his chest. Slipping an arm across her belly, Zach tucked her to him. The soft pillows of her bottom nestled against his groin, exactly where they belonged.

  “So, I have a confession to make,” he whispered into her neck.

  Ruthie tensed. “Zach, don’t.”

  “Don’t?”

  “I always thought I’d want to know, but now that it’s in my face, I really don’t think I could handle knowing you slept with another woman.”

  He bolted up beside her. “What?”

  “Seriously. Please, don’t.”

  “Ruthie, I didn’t sleep with another woman.”

  She flipped onto her back. “You didn’t?”

  “You seriously need to ask me that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I got a little crazy.” What killed Zach was that Ruthie didn’t sound angry, just sad.

  “You guess? Ruthie, do you really think that little of me or our marriage?”

  “I feel like I’m holding you back sometimes, and Joan”—she said the name as if sucking on a lemon—“wants to help you soar.”

  “I can’t soar without you.”

  “You seemed like you were doing pretty well. That email you sent me right after the meeting?”

  “Yeah, I was excited, but this whole thing didn’t make any sense until you showed up. I was a bit of a wreck last night, worried you’d hate the whole idea.”

  “Well, you know, Zach, there was a simple way for you to find out how I’d feel.”

  Zach slumped onto his back beside her and searched the ceiling for wisdom. “I’m sorry, Ruthie. I guess I was afraid you’d discourage me from the expansion, and I felt, with all my heart, this was the right direction for the organization.”

  Ruthie turned toward Zach. “I get it,” she said.

  Zach propped his head with his hand and met her gaze. “What do you mean?” He held his breath, praying he wouldn’t have to speak the painful truths.

  “I’m a homebody. I don’t exactly embrace change.”

  Zach smiled. “No, but I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Yeah. That hurt.”

  “I’m sorry. By the time I found out Glover wanted to move me to DC, you’d already started work on your study. I know how important this project is for you, and I didn’t want you to stop moving forward.”

  “Again.” There was no way not to feel the weight of all of Ruthie’s self-recrimination and Zach’s disappointment over the years.

  Zach shrugged. “I was damned if I told you and damned if I didn’t, but this grant wasn’t a certainty. I rolled the dice. I’m sorry if not bringing you in earlier was a bad decision.”

  “Honestly, I understand why you didn’t. I guess part of me is glad I finished the room even if I won’t be able to use it now. It would have been a lot harder to leave the nursery behind.” Her thoughtful expression softened into a misty-eyed smile. “I did it, Zach. I finally let go.”

  “You did. I am so proud of you.”

  He linked his fingers with her hand against the bed, leaned in, and kissed her in that way that leads to more. She moaned into his mouth; his groin answered with a pleasant tug.

  Things were just getting serious when Ruthie pulled back. “Hey, what was your confession?”

  He smiled. “I reread your handyman story last night.”

  “What? You too?”

  “Me, too?”

  It was too dark for Zach to tell if she was blushing, but he could sure as shit see her eyes darting around the room. Zach wasn’t sure how to feel about Ruthie rereading the story with the embodiment of Henry just a few yards away. Not to mention how quickly she’d leapt to the wrong conclusion about Joan. What was that saying—the cheater always suspects?

  Unlike his delicate wife, Zach needed to hear the truth, no matter what. “Ruthie? Should I be asking if something happened with Quentin?”

  “No. God, Zach. He’s a friend.” Ruthie couldn’t lie to save her life—or marriage.

  Zach let out a rocky breath. “I believe you.”

  “Good. So, you’re not jealous?”

  “Of course I’m jealous.”

  “Oh, Zach. You know I’d never be unfaithful.”

  His heart was still catching up with his head on that point. Zach trailed his finger down Ruthie’s cheek. “He brought your smile back. That was my job.”

  “God knows, you tried. I wasn’t ready.”

  “I shouldn’t have given up so easily.”

  “Easily?” Ruthie chuffed. “Zach, it’s been years. Maybe I just needed someone whose heart wasn’t also broken to lift me out of my coffin.”

  “Come on, Ruthie,” Zach said as gently as possible, considering his own heart was still feeling a little wobbly. “It doesn’t hurt that the guy could be Adonis’s twin, and he obviously has a thing for you. He told me as much himself.”

  “I won’t deny it was nice to feel wanted.”

  “That’s my job too,” Zach answered. “I never stopped wanting you, but I certainly failed at convincing you.”

  “You don’t get to take the blame for that. I’m the one who packed on the pounds. It’s pretty hard to feel sexy when you can’t stand the sight of yourself.”

  “And yet, a total stranger managed to.”

  “There’s no accounting for taste.” Ruthie reached out and ran her hand up Zach’s bent arm, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

  “Lucky for me, or I ne
ver would’ve caught a girl like you.”

  “Mmhmm.” She rolled her eyes, her usual response to anything close to a compliment. “Because you weren’t hot at all, Mr. ‘Wild Thing.’ Speaking of which, when did you make that playlist?”

  “Oh, I, uh, made it for our anniversary, but that night didn’t exactly go as I’d hoped.”

  “Wow. You really are so much more romantic than I am.”

  He drew her hand to his lips and left a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m married to a romance writer.” Wink.

  “I think you’ve always been a few steps ahead of me. Remember how you used to microwave popcorn to cover up for the vomit smell of those gingko trees that mated outside your dorm room?”

  “But we had to keep the windows open because there was no way to turn down the heat?”

  “And I thought you were deliberately turning your room into a sauna so I’d take off my clothes.”

  Zach sighed. “Back in the good old days, when you believed that I loved seeing you naked.”

  Ruthie skimmed his cheek with her soft palm. “I believe you now.”

  “That’s good.” Zach sighed. “We need to be more careful this time, Ruthie. We’re not actually invincible.”

  “No. Even the hardiest tree will die without sunlight and water.”

  “Don’t forget fertilization, baby,” Zach added, with a thrust of his hips.

  “Such a romantic.” Ruthie giggled as Zach rolled between Ruthie’s legs and put an end to the discussion.

  38

  Homeward Bound

  “Ahhh. Home, sweet home.”

  “For now,” Ruth answered quietly, staring out the window as the taxi turned onto their street. Normally, coming home was her favorite part of any trip, but this place had an expiration date. The decay had already begun.

  Zach pulled her hand into his lap and wriggled his fingers until they settled between hers. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ve been so excited to start our new life, it just hit me what we’ll be leaving behind.”

  “I promise I won’t rush you. We’ll ease into the transition.”

  The transition. Packing up their lives into cardboard boxes. Selling the house they’d built from the foundation up. Leaving her kids at the center. Saying goodbye to dear friends who’d shared the good times and held them up through the awful ones.

  Change sucked, even good change, but if she were honest, the idea of leaving Tarra scared Ruth far less than returning now to the “scene of the crime,” this place where they’d both forgotten who they’d promised to be. Would the magic cocoon of four days alone in their new city—hand-holding and stolen kisses, real conversation, making love like newlyweds—shield them from the dull blade of the familiar or the temptations that had sunk their hooks into each of them?

  Sigh.

  Adonis’s twin, Zach had called Quentin. Ruth certainly wouldn’t dispute the resemblance, but his physical being, though spectacular, was only a fraction of the seduction. Quentin oozed a lethal combination of charisma and sincerity, and Ruth had always been a sucker for both. On top of all that, he was unfairly talented with his hands. The guy even loved her dog, for crying out loud.

  And, as she’d confessed to Zach, it was nice to be wanted. Would Ruth have fallen for Quentin if there hadn’t been such a huge void in her marriage? With the rift now repaired, surely Q’s charms would be easier to resist.

  Her theory lost steam the closer they drew to Quentin’s figure at the top of the driveway. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at their approaching taxi. An unnaturally perfect ray of sunshine filtered through the treetops and bathed Quentin in a supernatural glow, and if that weren’t bad enough, he had to go and bend over in his hip-hugging jeans, scoop up Pookie, and jog over to greet their car as if he’d been desperate for Ruth’s return.

  A sharp squeeze of Ruth’s hand startled her. Oops.

  Zach chuckled and gave her a gentle nudge. “Go. I know how much you missed your . . . little marshmallow.”

  Only slightly tormented by her own eagerness, Ruth sprang out of the back seat, straight into Quentin’s welcome-home hug. So much for resisting. For a split second, Ruth forgot about the dog smooshed between them until Pookie let out a harsh yip.

  Quentin jumped back. “Sorry, girl.”

  Not one to easily forgive, Pookie glowered at Quentin, scrambled out of his arms, and flew into Ruth’s.

  “Aww, I think someone’s jealous.” Ruth barely had time to close her mouth before Pookie’s sandpaper tongue made a swipe at it.

  “Ahem.” Zach pulled up short behind Ruth and snaked an arm around her waist. His warm breath tickled Ruth’s ear. “I think I know how she feels.”

  Quentin’s shell-shocked stare bounced back and forth between them. “But I thought . . . I mean, it seems that everything went well.”

  “It did.” Ruth and Zach answered together, looked at each other, and grinned.

  Zach’s hand shot out toward Quentin, releasing Ruth from his embrace but not from the man sandwich, of which she and Pookie were the filling. “I was just messing with you.”

  “Oh.” Quentin took Zach’s offered hand as if testing the shower before stepping inside.

  “Ruthie was right about you, Q. All of it. Thank you.”

  “Sure,” Quentin answered, regarding all three Millers as if they hailed from a different planet.

  “Okay, then,” Zach said with a clap of his hands, “Pookie and I are going inside to unpack.” He grabbed both suitcase handles and set off toward the door. “Come on, girl. Let’s go.”

  Pookie kicked her little legs against Ruth’s grasp. Zach’s attention was a rare treat Pookie wasn’t about to miss. Ruth bent to the lawn just as the dog flew out of her arms and scrabbled after the suitcase wheels. Hyperaware of Quentin’s presence beside her, Ruth focused on the disappearing husband and overstimulated cockapoo until the door closed behind them.

  “Your husband scares me a little,” Quentin said, tracking Zach’s movement up the stairs and across the picture window.

  “He really is very grateful. We both are.”

  “Honestly, Ruthie, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You took a huge chance hiring me and then offered me a place to live when everything fell apart with Pan.”

  “How could I not?”

  Quentin huffed. “For starters, you could have said this would really put a strain on your marriage.”

  “My marriage was strained long before you showed up.” After miscarriage number two, Ruth had firmly and conclusively rejected that old cliché, “Things happen for a reason.” It was entirely too cruel to imagine her God could have any reason that would possibly justify taking the life of a beautiful, innocent soul. Still, she had to marvel at Quentin’s auspicious timing. “I don’t know how, but you seemed to drop into our lives out of the clear blue sky right when we needed you.” She sniffled, and Quentin lunged forward to comfort her, which made her sniffle harder.

  His arms closed gently around her back, and she melted into his embrace. She wasn’t tempted to kiss him this time, but boy, did that hug feel nice.

  His words floated across the top of her head. “Did you ever think that maybe someone up there knew you deserved to be happy and sent me to help?”

  “Please, don’t make me cry again. I’m running out of tears.”

  “As long as they’re happy tears, Ruthie.”

  “Yes,” she said, composing herself enough to pull back from his arms. “Now they are.”

  “That’s great, Ruthie. I’m really happy for you.” She believed him, but his words were tinged with pain.

  Loss. Ruth knew it well.

  “Zach and I still have a lot to work out, but I found my husband again, and we’re gonna be okay.”

  “I know you are. I knew as soon as you b
ought that dress.”

  The dress. Mmm, the heat of Zach’s palm on her back. “You really think one little dress can save a marriage?”

  The dress had served its purpose well, but still, it was just a piece of cloth. Quentin seemed so adorably sure of himself though. As if a mere human could actually unravel the mysteries of love.

  “It was your moment of commitment. You realized your marriage could actually fall apart, and you set your priorities on winning your husband back.”

  “Yeah, that was a bit of a shock.” Marriages failed all the time, but not Ruthie-&-Zach.

  “Ruthie . . .” Quentin reached for her arm, thought better of it, and stuffed his hands inside his jeans. “I don’t think any couple believes it can happen to them, until it does.”

  What an insensitive fool she’d been not to see it sooner. “You’ve been through a bad breakup. Not a divorce, I hope?”

  His lips flattened into a grim line. “No, but a, uh, close friend of mine went through a terrible one.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s awful. I watched Gail go through it. What a miserable process.”

  He nodded, forcing a smile. “But that’s not you. You didn’t let that happen.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “You’re the one who got on that plane, Ruthie.”

  She’d never have another chance to speak about this with Quentin, and he deserved to know the truth. “You know, you really shook me with that kiss.”

  Quentin froze, doe-eyes caught in the headlights. “Ruthie, I’m sor—”

  “You were right, though. Not kissing you was probably the most proactive feat of my entire relationship with Zach. Up to that point, I never faced any difficult choices. And then you came along, and for the first time, I had to actively resist temptation.”

  “And you did,” Quentin said, managing to look both hurt and proud of Ruth at the same time.

  “Barely,” she shot back, “but knowing our marriage will hold up under pressure is better than never encountering the challenge.”

  Quentin’s right hand escaped his pocket and drifted to his chest like a schoolboy about to say the Pledge of Allegiance. “You enjoy being tested?”