His Sassy Wife

by Brogan Riley

  I realize they’re not scared of me. They’re curious.

  “Are you a fire-fighter?” Colleen asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m only a guitarist.”

  “Are you Mom’s boyfriend?” Jaclyn asks and all the kids start giggling.

  “No,” I say.

  “But you want to be her boyfriend?” Caspar asks.

  “No, I don’t.” I thread my fingers through my hair. There’s silence until I clear my throat. “She’s too pretty for such an ugly guy like me.”

  “You’re not ugly,” Colleen says. “You look like a hero.”

  They all nod in unison.

  “Mom likes you,” Diana adds as her eyes narrow and she tilts her head.

  I feel like it’s some fucking test. Fuck me. These kids are like four judges.

  “I like her too,” I say.

  They look happy with my response.

  “Our dad was like a zombie,” Caspar says as his right eye twitches.

  “He was really scary,” Jaclyn says. Her eyes widen and she starts panting.

  I feel my throat tighten. Their eyes say it all. He wasn’t a dad to them. He was someone they feared. The guy had been dead to them long before he died.

  I lower to the floor and shoot my arm toward Jaclyn. I sit her beside me and throw my arm over her back. Colleen sits at my other side.

  “Can you visit us again in a few days?” Diana asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “We’ll tidy up the house,” Caspar says with passion.

  “That’s a fair deal,” I say.

  The front door creaks open and the sound of female footsteps urges me to rise to my feet.

  Rhue

  I stop in the doorway and draw in a long breath. The smell of detergents wafts through the air as the surfaces’ shiny cleanliness almost blinds me. Someone has tidied up the cushions and blankets. The curtains have no creases. The sweets wrappers have vanished like someone has cast a spell. My kids are sitting on the floor around Ethan like they are pupils from a strict boarding school.

  “What happened?” I explode.

  Ethan chuckles. “Nothing very exciting.”

  Diana rises to her feet and grabs Colleen, putting her small form under her arm, and then growls at Caspar and Jaclyn. I raise my hands in a dramatic gesture as my kids exit the room in a queue as though they’re escaping a fire.

  I can hear Jaclyn say, “Why do we have to go to bed?” A long groan leaves her mouth.

  Diana growls, “They need to talk.”

  Weird. Are they even my kids?

  “Your appointment went okay?” Ethan asks as he stands in front of me.

  “Yes, I just need a couple of tests.”

  “What tests?”

  “Nothing to worry about.” I sweep my hand above the floor. “How did you manage to clean it up?”

  “My soldiers were very obedient.”

  “Your soldiers?”

  “Yeah, they’re very quick learners.”

  I nod. “Who would think?”

  Ethan clears his throat. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Sure. A cup of tea?”

  I don’t store alcohol in my house. I’m scared my kids could become addicted to alcohol if they watched me open a bottle of beer or pour myself a glass of wine. Even the word alcohol has the power of awakening my bad memories. Sally’s bar is different. It’s my job, but most importantly our customers are very well-behaved.

  Not to mention that I’ve never been a fan of drinking. I’m addicted to coffee but I try to have a healthy lifestyle. Alcohol is not healthy. It kills mercilessly.

  Ethan nods and gestures for me to walk out of the living room. We move into the kitchen. I stand by the granite worktop and put the vintage kettle on. It hums like a jet engine.

  “So,” I start.

  “I’m gonna say that straight, Rhue.”

  I freeze as my heart jumps up into my throat. My stomach is in knots as thoughts course through my head. He wants to tell me I’m a horrible mother.

  “You’re not their servant, Rhue.”

  My jaw drops open. “But—“

  “They’re big enough to help you with cleaning and laundry.”

  Tears prick my eyes. “I gave them a shitty father and a shitty life. It’s been only a few months since…” My voice breaks as the tears roll down my face.

  “You feel guilty.” He takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. “But you shouldn’t.”

  “I’m the worst mother in the world. I couldn’t leave him. I should have left him. But I didn’t until he died.”

  “He was a manipulative abuser, Rhue.” He cups my face in both his hands as his thumbs wipe away the tears. “And his mother was even worse. You thought you could lose your kids.”

  “I should have been wiser.”

  “You’re very wise.” He kisses me on the forehead, the heat from his lips sending tingles down my spine. “And you are a damn good mom, believe me. They’re smart little shits.”

  I sniffle. Our glances meet.

  My God, I want to spend eternity in the captivity of his arms.

  He moves backward. “Everything’s gonna be fine, sweetness.”

  “Thanks, you’re great.” The kettle clicks so I make us two cups of raspberry tea.

  He nods several times. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Yeah, sure. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Diana?”

  “Ah, you’ve noticed. Yes, she’s not Charlie’s.”

  She’s another man’s daughter. That man was my childhood friend. He was a good African-American man.

  He was my one-night stand after Charlie got drunk to the point of unconsciousness. I was so young. So angry and lost at the same time.

  So stupid.

  Bayden wanted to marry me, but I was in love with my charming rich boy. I was blind. I overlooked the vague symptoms of Charlie’s alcoholism.

  Bayden died in a plane crash two months later. I attended his funeral without Charlie. He was busy attending a party at his parents’ place.

  I realized Diana was Bayden’s daughter when my little girl was three months old.

  Charlie never realized it but Diana knows. She’d figured it out just before Caspar’s ninth birthday. I’ve tried to talk to her about it a hundred times, but she always brushes me off.

  I grab a tissue from the top of the fridge and blow my nose. Diana walks into the kitchen and rolls her eyes as a smirk crosses her face.

  Ethan moves toward the doorway. “I’m gonna clear off.”

  I want to protest but he waves his hand at me and then strides off.

  Diana rummages around the kitchen as if she’s looking for something very important to her. I look at her face. My lips curl into a smile. She wants to talk to me.

  Diana pours herself a glass of orange juice and drops onto the corner bench around the kitchen table. She props her elbow on the tabletop and stares at me. Mischievous flickers dance in her eyes.

  “I didn’t forget to feed you or something?” I ask.

  She laughs. “No.” She takes a sip of her orange juice and smirks at me. “He looks like Tyce Holmwood.”

  “Who?”

  “Your colleague.”

  “I mean who’s Tyce Holmwood?”

  She looks at me like I’m an extraterrestrial. “Hope and Hell. Rings a bell?”

  I lean against the 1950s cupboard. “That’s a rock band, right?”

  “A very famous rock band. Tyce was their guitarist.”

  “Was?”

  “He died in that accident a year ago when a tank truck hit his car.”

  Now, I remember. I saw the report on the news. Three people died on that night, the driver of the tank truck, the guitarist, and one of the band’s backup singers.

  Diana rises to her feet and saunters off as I make another cup of tea for myself. I lean against the cupboard as the smell of chamomile and lemon rises to my nostrils.

  “And he’s
hitting on you.” Diana’s voice comes from my left and makes me shudder.

  Hot liquid splashes onto my hand and that forces a quiet swear word from my mouth. I put my cup on the worktop. I grab a tea towel and wipe the back of my hand but my skin stings so I turn on the cold water and cool it under the tap.

  Jeez, my kids are like little thieves. They can sneak in and sneak out without you even realizing it.

  The cold water begins to work its magic on my hand. I keep it under the stream for a few more seconds and dry it with the tea towel.

  I turn to face Diana. “Who?”

  “Tyce Holmwood.” She shoves a piece of newspaper into my hand. “You should dye your hair.”

  “Have you done your homework?” I know my kids have different brains to mine but sometimes their comments are very weird.

  “A lavender hair color would make you look even more beautiful,” Diana says.

  “Why on earth would I want a lavender hair color?”

  “Trust me, Mom. Go dye your hair.” She bobs her head at me, her eyes gleaming. “And shave your legs.”

  My throat pulses. “I’m proud of my unshaven legs.” I snort. “Who cares?”

  “Your colleague cares. Trust me.”

  “And you go do your homework.”

  She salutes me and walks off. I raise my hand and spread the piece of newspaper open. I look down at it.

  My breath stops in my throat. Dread surges through my veins and everything feels surreal for a moment.

  No, that’s not possible.

  But the man in the photo looks like Ethan Smith without his scars. His name is Tyce Holmwood.

  The resemblance is so striking.

  No, I’m tired and that’s why idiotic thoughts are tumbling in my head. I should go to bed and have a good rest.

  But Tyce’s eyes? My God. There’s only one pair of such eyes in the world and they belong to Ethan.

  Chapter 7

  Rhue

  I grab my laptop from the windowsill and put it on the kitchen table. I start typing in. A few swear words leave my mouth at the slow internet connection.

  With my eyes glued to the screen, I keep typing in until the day is about to dawn and three mugs of coffee I’ve had cause my stomach to twist. I retch and push the laptop away.

  Fuck.

  I pull myself up and stagger over to the bathroom. I take a quick shower. Brushing my teeth, I look at my reflection in the mirror. It winces at me, haunting me with dark circles under the eyes.

  I retch and spit out the toothpaste foam.

  Should I go to the police?

  Should I talk to Sally?

  A blurry memory floats through my mind. Sally called him Tyce. She thought I was inside the bar. I wasn’t.

  Or maybe I’m creating new memories out of tiredness?

  I rub my dry eyes and walk out of the bathroom. Colleen bounces off me.

  “Mommy!”

  I lean over her and lift her off the floor, sitting her on my hip. “What is it, honey?”

  “I had a bad dream,” she gasps.

  I feel my throat tighten. “A bad dream?”

  “About Dad. He wanted to hit me.”

  I choke back tears. “Nobody will ever hit you, I promise.”

  “Ethan won’t let anyone hit us.”

  “He won’t.”

  “He’s a hero.”

  My heart fills with rays of painful warmth at the shy hope ringing in her voice. “Yes, he is.”

  “He wants to stay with us.”

  “Oh, we don’t know what he wants, honey.”

  It’s clear to me that my kids have sensed the goodness in him. They crave a good dad’s attention so much and Ethan is a decent guy.

  What have I done to them?

  What am I going to do?

  Tyce

  She called Sally and told her she was sick.

  “Give me her new phone number,” I yell to Sally.

  I know she bought a new cell phone a few days ago but I forgot to ask about her new number. Diana has her old phone but she hasn’t answered any of my calls. She’s at school, that’s why.

  Emily looks at me like I’m a rabid animal. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I growl.

  Emily arches her eyebrows, shakes her head, cursing under her breath, and walks off.

  Rhue had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. She said everything was fine. But apparently, it’s not.

  My heart flutters as anxiety fills my veins like an icy wave. “Sally, please, I just want to talk to her.”

  Sally puts her hands on her hips. “She’ll be back to work tomorrow.”

  Is this like witches’ coven or something? No man allowed?

  I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need to check if she’s okay.

  I storm out of the bar and jump on my bike. I start the engine and roar toward Rhue’s house.

  I can’t let anything bad happen to her.

  Rhue

  My kids are with Caroline and their tutor, a curvy lady in her fifties, so I can have a nap.

  I don’t know what to think about this Tyce aka Ethan thing.

  Maybe it’s my imagination? Yeah, I love thrillers and crime movies. I’ve always wanted to be a detective.

  And I’ve always wanted to be a fashion designer.

  After I finished college, I worked as a seamstress for a small company making gothic clothes. I went to university. I met Charlie and it was the sad end of my dreams.

  My eyes are so dry from the lack of sleep it feels like a thousand needles are pricking them. I drink a glass of water, almost choking, and shuffle over to my bedroom. A loud knocking on the front door causes every cell in my body to jump, and I freeze for a split second.

  A quiet swear word leaves my mouth as I turn around and walk across the hall to open the door. I pull the door handle and someone’s massive form tumbles inside the house. I lose my balance and someone’s massive arms wrap around me.

  “Rhue, how are you feeling, baby?”

  I feel like I’m inside a hot cocoon. “Ethan,” I squeak. “What are you doing here?”

  He moves me into the kitchen and watches my face in the light penetrating the window. “Is this an eye infection? Your eyes are quite red.”

  “No, fuck no. I’m fine.” I wiggle out of his arms.

  A thought hits me hard. He’s scared that I might be unwell.

  I’m kind of scared of him.

  He threads his fingers through his hair and I see them tremble. “Sally said—“

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Because of me?” His jaw muscles twitch. “I didn’t want to be harsh on you. I just wanted to help.”

  “No, it’s not about what you said last night. You were right. My kids are old enough to help me.” I sweep my curls down my back. I haven’t styled my hair yet so I must resemble a crazy old witch. “It’s…”

  Suddenly, something breaks inside of me. I don’t know whether it’s the lack of sleep, or the fear that has tormented me for so long. I’ve been lonely since I met Charlie. My kids are great and they’re everything to me, but they’re my kids. It’s a different kind of love. I also need a grown human being, a friend, a partner. A good husband.

  I need to know.

  Something kicks me toward the fridge. I raise my hand and grab the piece of newspaper Diana gave me last night. I slap it onto the tabletop. “Who are you?” My eyes lock onto Ethan’s.

  “What?” Confusion paints his face.

  “The resemblance is so striking, you know, and you can play the guitar like a genius, just like he could.”

  His eyes flick over the photo and then his glance travels back to me. “Rhue, sweetheart—“

  “I’m not crazy. I did my research. It took me seven hours but now I know everything.” Wow, I’m so bold and certain.

  A crease appears between his eyes as he draws in a deep breath. “Alright. I don’t want to lie to you. You’re not crazy but you have to keep quiet.�
�

  His words bang against my brain like a ghastly confirmation, and I feel like I’m falling into a chasm. “You mean… Ethan, please tell me it’s my imagination.”

  “Keep quiet, Rhue.” Mortal coldness radiates from his eyes.

  I shudder. “Are you involved in the mob?” I squeak like a mouse.

  “What?”

  “You faked your own death. It must be something connected with the mob then.”

  “No, Rhue, stop it. It’s not like that.”

  “So what is it all about?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “I will keep quiet but I want to know why. Jeez, they all think you’re dead.”

  “It’s not about me. I mean it was until it wasn’t. It’s about someone else.”

  “That woman, Florence—“

  “Rhue, please. Don’t ask. I can’t tell you. I don’t want to lie to you either.”

  I can’t stop asking. It’s like I’m turning into an instinct driven by morbid curiosity. “Is she in the mob? Because she’s alive, right?”

  He clenches his jaw and I see an inkling of the battle in his head shadow his glance. “She’s dead and she wants to stay dead.”

  My heart freezes and then starts thundering. Blood thumps in my ears. “Are you two in witness protection?”

  Tyce

  I nod. “Yes. That’s why you have to keep quiet.”

  Fuck, I feel horrible, but I promised Florence to keep her secret. Maybe a tiny lie will calm Rhue? She looks very disturbed.

  I don’t want to lie to her, but Florence’s hidden life is at stake.

  “But is it dangerous?” Rhue’s voice falters as her chin quivers. Her face has a light tinge that reminds me of white coffee.

  “No, not anymore. The case has been closed. I just prefer Ethan Smith to Tyce Holmwood and that person is the same as me. That’s all, Rhue. No mob, no crime, just two people who want to be left in peace.”

  The detective closed the case a while ago. Florence and I live as if we’re in witness protection. I’m just coloring the reality so as not to scare Rhue.

  “You have a family, Ethan. I mean, Tyce. Your brother must be worried sick. I mean he’s mourning you. I mean—“

  “It’s better this way, believe me.”

  Cole knows. Mae knows. But maybe Rhue doesn’t need to know this?

  She tilts her head. “He’s married your fiancée. That’s why you don’t want to return to your old life.”