by Robyn Carr
Beau delivered the divorce settlement money to Pamela’s lawyer so that his business would be cleared and was counseled by his lawyer that he was definitely entitled to a civil suit against his ex-wife to recoup some of his monetary losses. But Beau was exhausted. More lawyers and courts and lawsuits held zero appeal. He decided all he wanted was his freedom, at any price.
“That’s dangerous thinking,” Sonja told him. “Please don’t say that out loud.”
“Think she can find a way to make me pay more? More than sleepless nights for me and for Lauren and the boys?”
Deep in the dark of night Beau and Lauren whispered about it. They had thought their marriages were difficult and heartbreaking, not life-threatening. They had assumed their spouses would be selfish and greedy, not physically dangerous. Neither of them thought of themselves as cagey enough to get half of what they’d accrued in the marriage; neither was capable of really hurting someone for revenge or material wealth.
Beau just wanted to make the world beautiful. Lauren just wanted to live in peace and protect her family.
Beau found a way to make things better. At least once every week, depending on Lauren’s schedule, he stopped by the Emerson home and took her to a favorite park or garden for lunch. He knew the best hidden rooftop gardens, the most beautifully landscaped parks, the most delicious hideaways. They would eat a takeout lunch and talk like they used to in the gardens of Divine Redeemer.
Slowly, the tension seemed to ease, probably because his business was growing as it did in the spring every year. He had several designs in the works and planting yards and rooftops had begun because the weather was heavenly. An architectural magazine featured three of his rooftop gardens, the article went viral and he thought he was going to have to hire an answering service to take the additional calls that were coming in. Michael and Drew seemed to be getting along all right, thanks to some counseling, and Beau’s home life was better than it ever had been even with the danger they had experienced.
But, he looked in the truck bed and under the truck before getting inside every time he had to drive somewhere. It was a little like OCD but he decided if that was the worst thing that came of his mis-marriage and severely problematic divorce, he’d live through it. When he wondered if he’d manage another day through the stress, he just took Lauren into his arms, felt her mold herself to him in sweet affection, and he’d know he was finally where he wanted to be.
In April Lauren let her rental house go and even though her lease was for a year, the owner was very decent about it all. He probably didn’t want the domestic disturbances she’d been having to wear on the neighborhood any further. It left Beau’s home as her only home. It was not only where she wanted to be, it was also where she needed to be. They relied on each other now, after what had happened.
Beau and Lauren also enlarged Beau’s garden and updated the backyard because the weather was wonderful and Lauren had never loved being outdoors more. When she had lived in Brad’s house, she found her backyard to be too sterile and manicured, too artificial. In Beau’s yard and garden, there were things to watch growing and it was exciting. First there were little sprouts, then full thick stems then the start of fruits and flowers. Every morning, still in her robe, she wandered through the yard and garden, pulling a weed here or there, deadheading a bud or flowers, and before long Beau would join her, grooming the plants.
She had hardly any time to worry about her divorce, though she did check with Erica regularly. Brad was clearly stalling. Erica thought he’d rather pay fines and additional court costs than pay her, even though that wasn’t going to work out for him. It would all catch up with him eventually. Lauren’s job for Sylvie’s foundation was so rewarding, so busy, her schedule packed with meetings and planning sessions, she didn’t have a lot of time to worry about Brad. She and Beau were getting along just fine. The job had empowered her, made her feel vital again. She met with event planners, consultants, lawyers, account managers and sat in on the foundation board meetings.
Lauren talked to Lacey a couple of times a week and saw her for lunch or dinner about once a week. Sylvie had even hosted them at her house one day for lunch. Lauren wasn’t quite as worried about her daughter. Lacey seemed to be getting her footing, which probably had a lot to do with spending more time with Lauren at Beau’s house. She might be spoiled and a bit shallow, but she was growing more fond of Beau by the day. And she was seeing Brad less. Brad had, in his lifetime, driven a lot of people crazy.
In truth, Lauren hardly cared about her divorce anymore. Brad signing off on the marriage, even giving her a big check, could not possibly make her any happier than she was. She tried to explain that to Lacey. “I live in a stable environment with a very good man and his boys treat me kindly, with respect. I have a great job, good friends, my girls are in good health and while I’m not able to contribute much, I’m still able to help both of you.”
“But what am I going to do after I get my master’s? In less than six months? Teach junior high? I’ll have to give up everything! The salaries are so low!”
“I don’t know, kiddo. You might have to find a different kind of job. You’re welcome to stay with me and Beau if you want to. You might have to start over like a lot of us have had to do.”
“But start over doing what?” Lacey asked.
Lauren shrugged sympathetically. “Some choices are very hard to make. God knows I’ve put off the hard choices and regretted it, but once I dared to start over I’ve been so happy. Just finish your degree for now, then keep an open mind. I don’t have a lot of money to give you but I’ll cover your head and feed you.” Then she laughed and said, “Wait till you see the garden in Beau’s backyard.”
And Lacey said, “I don’t think his garden is going to get me as excited as it gets you.”
* * *
Brad asked Lacey regularly what her mother was doing for work, for fun, for getting along financially and Lacey just said, “We’ll get along so much better if I don’t talk about you with Mom or about Mom with you.”
But Brad knew. He couldn’t get near her—there was that restraining order, something he believed she’d done for show and leverage. It didn’t help her in any way that he could see. He knew she’d lost her job before Christmas, that his buddy Stu had resigned because of it, and that she was seeing a younger man. Some blue-collar type. A landscaper. A damn gardener. What was her problem? Was the pool boy all tied up? The landscaper probably supported her on his tips.
And he knew the gardener’s ex-wife had tried to have them killed. Once the police had interviewed him and explained why, he began following that story obsessively. The woman had been arrested and indicted and would stand trial. He wondered how smart Lauren thought she was now. Had that been a wiser choice than saving her marriage? But then Lauren wasn’t that bright, was she?
He knew Lauren was talking to Cassie and must be barely talking to Lacey; Lacey was deep in her studies and didn’t even always take his calls. He wasn’t sure how Cassie was affording law school but he did know she’d chosen that wimpy Jeremy who would probably never amount to much over her own family. Cassie had written him off over that misunderstanding—Lauren’s black eye. That could all be explained. He couldn’t help it that no one believed him. He was set up. It wasn’t him.
He knew he still had control of the family money and wasn’t going to part with it gracefully.
Things weren’t going well at home. He had the same yard crew, house cleaners, window washers, but there was no one to pull it all together. When the housekeeper washed his pants instead of taking them to the cleaners, there was no one to grab them, take them in for appropriate pressing. All the details fell through the cracks and it made him furious. He had immediately hired an assistant, someone to run his errands and handle any other details for him. He found out that domestic assistants didn’t weather him “correcting” them, pointing out the right way to do things,
as well as a wife. He was now on his fifth in nine months and he couldn’t stand her. He never mentioned this to his daughter because he didn’t want Lauren to know.
He was having trouble at the hospital. He was always in a bad mood, sidetracked by his failing marriage, or was that pending divorce? He was driven out of his mind by the idea that his beautiful wife was getting shagged by a younger man. Never mind Brad had had his share of much younger women, he had once had such wonderful control over Lauren. The thing that drove him craziest was, he never saw this coming. Even though she had threatened many times, he never thought it would happen.
He hated Lauren and he wanted to punish her, but his lawyer had warned him over and over that any kind of physical violence was going to cost him big. It would put him away. And felonies that included violence and assault might cost him his license.
He’d had a couple of complaints filed with the hospital. A resident and an OR tech had both accused him of abuse. He was under a lot of pressure; maybe he was a little terse. He dropped an instrument and a nurse said he threw it. They both needed to get spines. Limp dicks. Complaining babies. They should have worked for important surgeons like he had. He had never been coddled. And he hadn’t complained. Filing complaints? What was this world coming to?
Then came the straw that broke the camel’s back. He was tortured by the money this divorce was going to cost him, he hated that he’d lost one daughter to Lauren and was barely hanging on to the other, he was furious that she had implied to some people that he was abusive and swore out a legal order of protection... But he reached his breaking point when he learned that she was working for the Emerson Foundation. Those were his friends! He’d been Andy’s friend for years!
It was a simple accident. He called Andy and asked him when he was free for a round of golf at Pebble Beach. Andy said he’d have to check his calendar. Then he asked when the golf tournament for Andy’s kids was coming up and Andy said, again, he’d have to check his calendar. Brad’s hackles rose and he said, “What’s going on? Are you avoiding me for some reason?”
“Not at all, Brad! I’m sure we’ll continue to have a very amicable friendship and we appreciate all your support. We’ll find a good day to get together when it’s not awkward.”
Brad had laughed and said, “Why would it be awkward? You don’t like the color of my money? You managed to get your hands on plenty of it—if you don’t kick my ass on the golf course, you eat it up at the charity events!”
Andy chuckled and said, “I love your money. I just don’t want to put any further strain on you and your ex-wife. Sylvie depends on her. Best assistant Sylvie has ever had. It’s a good relationship.”
“How’s that?” Brad said, after a long pause.
“I was just referring to the fact that Lauren is Sylvie’s administrative assistant and director of the foundation, and that’s working out very well. For Sylvie and for me. So we want to keep it like that. Don’t we?”
Brad was stunned, but he said, “No problem there. Now take a look at the calendar and let me know when you’re free. It’s been a long time.”
“Absolutely!” Andy said.
Brad hung up on his friend and thought, fuck golf! He seethed. Had she moved into his circle of friends? And left them wondering if they should socialize with him?
He called Lacey. “So, I’ve asked you a couple of times now. What is your mother doing for work?”
“Well, she was offered her job back at Merriweather, but she got something else. And I’ve told you before, it just keeps things nicer if we don’t talk about Mom...”
“I heard she’s working for the Emersons,” Brad said.
“You heard that? Where did you hear that?”
“From the Emersons, that’s who! You might have told me! They’re my friends, not hers! She obviously used my friendship with them to get a job!”
“I don’t think so, Dad,” Lacey said.
He hung up on her. He called Lauren. To his surprise, she answered.
“It’s been nine fucking months!” he said angrily. “Don’t you think enough is enough? You’ve turned everyone against me, tried to wrench everything I’ve earned away from me and now you’re fucking some yard boy! You promised me life! If you end this cruelty right now, I’ll put the house in your name. I’ll pay for law school for Cassie. You can negotiate your own terms! This can’t go on!”
She hung up on him. She blocked his number—he tried to call her back and was informed by a tinny mechanical voice that a call from his number wouldn’t go through.
He threw things for a while, not caring. Housekeeping could clean it up when they serviced the house.
He had trouble sleeping, so he drank. Not too much, just a few. The next day was just a clinic day. The cleaning lady called his cell phone and asked, “Dr. Delaney, there’s broken things in the dining room! Like an earthquake!”
“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Mrs. Delaney was at the house having a little tantrum, throwing things. I meant to sweep up, but I had to get to the hospital.”
“Mrs. Delaney?” she asked.
“That’s what I said!”
He hung up and she called back. “You want to save any pieces?” she asked in her heavily accented English.
“No! Toss it!”
A few days later he had to cancel a surgery because he hadn’t been sleeping, he was exhausted and noticed a slight tremor in his hands. Low blood sugar, maybe. He checked his blood pressure and it was high, which he assumed must be Lauren’s fault. He prescribed himself something that should bring it down.
The lawyer called and informed him that a bench warrant would be issued, demanding his presence in court. “Let ’em try,” Brad said.
“Listen to me, Brad. They can arrest you. They can lock you up. They can leave you in jail until you cooperate with the process.”
“You said they don’t do that!” Brad argued.
“Judges would much rather see the two parties negotiate a settlement and get on with their lives, but if you refuse to negotiate, if you refuse to appear, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“Then I’ll get another lawyer!” he said.
“Doctor, you’re losing control. Can I recommend someone for you to talk to? I know a judge, retired judge, who is counseling now. He really helps disgruntled clients pull it together, get control—”
Brad disconnected.
A warrant was delivered to his office, demanding he appear in court. He didn’t. A few days later, he was arrested and taken to jail. He missed several surgeries. It took him a couple of days to untangle everything. He was visited at his office by the chief of surgery to whom he said, “Do you have any idea how vindictive a woman can be?”
“Maybe you should take a couple of weeks off and get this straightened out,” the doctor in charge said. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed that you’re getting more agitated by the day and frankly, you could put the hospital at risk.”
Brad told the chief of surgery to go fuck himself. And for that his privileges at the hospital were suspended.
* * *
Lauren was returning from the store with several bags of groceries. She brought the first two into the house through the back door and left two more bags in the trunk. It was going to be a big night. Both of Beau’s boys were coming over as well as Lacey. There could also be a girlfriend or two, depending on who had to work. The weather was perfect for grilling and sitting out on the patio. It was the middle of May, Cassie and Jeremy would be coming home in a few weeks. Jeremy for a visit, Cassie for a longer visit as law school was on summer break, but Jeremy didn’t want to interrupt his research for too long.
She put groceries in the refrigerator and left the nonperishables on the counter as she moved toward the back door to get another load.
“Hello, Lauren,” she heard.
She nearly jumped out of her skin an
d actually grabbed her chest in shock. It took her just a second to catch her breath and reach for the phone. Brad was sitting on the sectional in Beau’s great room.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Please.”
That request was not polite or solicitous, but commanding as usual and so she ignored it and dialed 911. She rattled off her information as calmly and quickly as possible. “My husband is here, in the house, and I have a restraining order because I’m afraid for my life. Please come. Please help.” Then she put the phone on the counter, leaving the line open, so she would have two hands free to fight him off, if necessary. “How did you get in here?” she asked him.
“I followed you right in,” he said. “If you’re serious about keeping me away, I would expect you to be careful, but you’ve always been such a ditz.”
“What’s your plan?” she asked him.
“I thought we’d talk. If you’ll just tell me what it’s going to take we can get this behind us.”
She frowned and nearly laughed. “What it’s going to take?” she echoed.
“I’ll forgive you and take you back. I’ll even give you something for security if that’s important. But you have nearly ruined my life, my career, my relationship with my daughters and friends, and I think you’ve got your revenge by now. Let’s get this over with. It’s been nearly a year. What are you holding out for?”
She shook her head. “I just want to be divorced,” she said. “Let the lawyers work out the details.” She strained to listen, hoping to hear sirens.
“I’ve been suspended from hospital privileges because of you,” he said. “My closest friends are now your friends. And employers—they’re your friends and employers. I can’t even imagine what kind of lies you had to tell to make all that happen, but I give up. I just want my life back. What’s it going to cost me?”
She squinted at him. Was he truly crazy? She shook her head a little wildly. “I never did anything to you,” she said in an urgent whisper. “I only want to get away from you! You’re mean and dangerous and you should go now. Go before the police get here.”