Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  “Mom, I’m not feeling the best.”

  “One cup!” her mom insisted.

  Sheri sucked it up and crawled into her mom’s car.

  They were seated in a booth at the coffee shop, and her mom looked at her. “Talk to me.”

  “Hi.” The waitress stood at the end of their table. “Coffee?”

  “Yes,” her mom said, smiling at the woman and ignoring her bad timing.

  The waitress disappeared. Her mom fiddled with her napkin. “You don’t have allergies.”

  “It was a hard day,” Sheri said.

  “I could tell,” her mom said.

  The waitress appeared again with two coffees. She just stood there.

  Her mom looked at her.

  Neither woman said anything for several long seconds. “Food?” the waitress finally asked.

  Her mom looked at Sheri. “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” Sheri said. “But I’m not hungry.”

  Her mom looked back at the waitress. “We’ll have two large stacks of pancakes with extra butter and syrup.” She looked at Sheri. “Breakup food.” Her mom poured cream into her cup. “What’s going on, Sheri?”

  “It just didn’t work out,” Sheri said. “He was hurt by his parents and then his ex-wife. He’s commitment-phobic.”

  Her mom looked confused. “I wasn’t talking about Danny.”

  “You said breakup food,” Sheri insisted.

  “That was almost a minute ago,” her mom said seriously.

  “Okay, what are you talking about?” Sheri asked, but deep down she knew.

  “You still haven’t read your father’s letter, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. But considering . . . the breakup, could you give me a break?”

  He mom leaned back and studied her. That look scared Sheri, too. It was her mom’s I’m-about-drop-a-bomb look.

  “You have never forgiven him, have you?”

  “Did you need sugar-free syrup?” the waitress’s voice startled both of them.

  Her mom didn’t even look up. “No.”

  The waitress ran off, and her mom’s gaze narrowed on Sheri. “Have you been back even once to his gravesite?”

  Sheri felt caught in her green eyes. “I . . .” she suddenly couldn’t lie. “No.”

  Her mom frowned. “You haven’t forgiven him?”

  “I . . . I’m working on it.”

  “It’s because of Bradley, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what? And don’t try to lie to me, Sheri Nicole. I know when you lie.”

  Sheri swallowed. She recalled Chloe telling her she should be upfront with her mom. Then she remembered Danny saying almost the same thing. Could they be right?

  Her chest tightened. “Okay, yes. It’s Bradley, and it’s everything. I’m not as perfect as you are. I’m having a harder time forgiving him. And I know he’s dead and you’re not supposed to think ill of the dead, but he did you so wrong. And sometimes I don’t understand how you can forgive him!”

  Her mom’s eyes widened with hurt. “Yes, he slipped up a time or two, but—”

  “No!” Slipped up? “Mom, he did more than slip up! He . . . drank and got ugly with you. You think I didn’t hear him? How could I not? He yelled. He was a mean drunk!”

  Her mom’s light green eyes now filled with tears. “He never raised his hand to me.”

  “But what about his voice?”

  Her mom inhaled, and the sound of it was painful. “It was a disease. He couldn’t help it.”

  “You had cancer. That’s a disease. You never got ugly.”

  “It’s not the same thing, and you know that.”

  “Fine. Maybe he couldn’t help it, but he cheated on you, and this kid, this Bradley. How do you think he feels about his dad? Did he support him? No.”

  Her mom took in a deep breath of air. “He was afraid to tell me. Afraid I couldn’t forgive him. But before he died, he told me he’d sent money to him and to the mother whenever he could. So he . . . did try.”

  “That’s no excuse, Mom. The truth is you deserved better than Dad.”

  Her mom sat up. Her shoulders pulled up. “Sheri, you act as if I’m perfect. I’m not. I made mistakes. Lots of them.”

  “You didn’t sleep around,” she accused.

  Her mom exhaled and grabbed her coffee cup. “You don’t know everything.”

  “I know enough. And I know you’ve forgiven him and God’s forgiven him. And in time I will, but just not right now. Give me some time.”

  “Forgiveness is a funny thing,” her mom said and looked into her cup. “Sheri, I’m not . . . perfect.” She set her cup down, leaned back and glanced at a paper napkin that she’d wadded into a ball. Then she looked up. “You were six months old. I was suffering with postpartum depression. Not that they even knew what it was back then. Your father was finishing school. He’d just gotten his first church. He was so busy, and I was . . . so lonely. I went to get a job. I found an upcoming lawyer who needed a secretary. He was married, but . . .”

  “No, I don’t want to hear it,” Sheri insisted. “It’s not important.” Dear God, it wasn’t important!

  “It is if you are going to judge your dad.” She leaned forward. “The affair continued for about three months. After the first month, I told your dad I wanted a divorce. I went back and lived with your grandmother. A few months later, Mr. Jenkins informed me he wasn’t leaving his wife. I’d been a fool. And I’d done your father so wrong.” She hesitated. “That’s when he started drinking. And that’s when he had the affair. He didn’t tell me because he was afraid I’d change my mind and not go back with him.”

  Sheri just sat there, trying to wrap her head around her mom having an affair.

  “But when he came to see you, Sheri, he was always sober, and he never missed a visit. I realized what a fool I’d been. I went to him and begged him to take me back. He never even blinked an eye. He said he’d been waiting for me to come around. He could have sued for custody of you. He’d have won back then, because I’d been the adulterer. But he didn’t. He loved me, unconditionally. Not once, Sheri, not once did he throw it in my face. Not even when he was drunk. And he loved you.” Tears ran down her mother’s cheek.

  Not unlike the tears falling from Sheri’s lashes.

  “It took a while for him to sober up, but he did. And I know he slipped up some through the years. But Sheri, I was married to that man for over thirty-nine years. He fell off the wagon eight times. None of them lasted more than a few months—except the last one when I had cancer. In total, he was drunk for less than two years. I refuse to judge him for two years when I had thirty-seven wonderful years with a man who never, ever held me accountable for my own sins.”

  Sheri wiped away her own tears. She didn’t have a clue what to say. Oh, she didn’t judge her mom. She loved her. But it suddenly became clear. She’d not offered her dad the same deal. She’d judged him.

  Right then the waitress came back and had their syrup in her hands. She looked from her mom’s teary face to Sheri’s.

  “Just leave it,” her mom said.

  She dropped the syrup and ran off.

  “Now, young lady, I’m not saying your father was a saint. When he drank, he got mouthy. And sometimes, even when he was sober, he was too hard on you. And I tried to fix that. I think he was so worried that you would make the mistakes he did. He thought by being tough, he could save you. But he loved you. And don’t you ever question that.”

  The waitress came back. She held a plate of pancakes in each hand. “Do you . . . ?”

  Her mom looked up at the woman. She smiled. “Would you please take those pancakes and stick them where sun doesn’t shine, and I don’t mean in the fridge!”

  The waitress ran off with their pancakes.

  Sheri, having never heard her mom lose it, burst out laughing.

  It took her mom a few minutes, but then she started laughing, too.

  Mom, being M
om, went and apologized to the waitress and had her bring back the pancakes.

  “I’m not going to tell you what to do about Danny.” Her mom leaned in.

  “Good,” Sheri said, and knowing it was too good to be true, she started counting in her head. She gave it ten seconds.

  On three, her mom spoke up. “Except . . .”

  Sheri looked up.

  “People make mistakes,” her mom said. “They do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing, and it can hurt. It hurts more when you love them. But love’s worth it, young lady. So worth it.”

  • • •

  It was after eleven when Sheri got home. She walked straight into her bedroom where she’d dropped the bag she’d brought from Danny’s. She pulled out her father’s letter and sat down on the bed.

  For the first time, Sheri saw her father in a different light. She could only imagine how much her mother’s unfaithfulness had hurt him. And yet he’d offered her mother the thing Sheri hadn’t been able to offer him.

  Forgiveness.

  She felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

  She pulled it out and realized she had three missed calls from Chloe.

  That’s when she saw a new text from Danny. He’d apologized for staying at the ceremony.

  She was staring at it, trying to decide if she should text him back, when another message popped up. Also from him.

  Good night.

  Her chest tightened, and she almost called him. But she was so tired. Emotionally and physically.

  And she really needed her wits about her when she talked to him. What was she going to say to him? If she told him she’d heard him talking to Anna and knew he hadn’t wanted her there, would he think she was snooping?

  She had to tell him something, didn’t she?

  But not tonight.

  So instead she texted him back.

  I’ll call you tomorrow evening.

  Another text came back almost immediately.

  Miss you. And Taco.

  Sheri cried herself to sleep.

  • • •

  The next morning, the first thing Sheri saw when she opened her eyes was the unopened letter on the bedside table. The second thing was Taco’s snout right in her face.

  But the first thing she thought of was Danny.

  She closed her eyes, and her heart went straight to aching.

  Taco nudged her with his nose. She petted him. “Danny said he missed you, too.”

  The dog whined. She looked at the clock. It was already past eight. She’d slept late.

  “Okay, I’m getting up. I’ll let you out.”

  Picking up the letter, she took it with her into the kitchen. She let Taco out, filled his bowl with food, made coffee and then sat down at the table and stared at the letter.

  Her phone rang. She half expected it to be Danny.

  It wasn’t.

  “Hi Chloe,” Sheri said.

  “You okay?” her best friend asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you get my messages last night?”

  “I saw you called, but I haven’t listened to the messages yet. I went out with my mom after the ceremony.”

  “Danny came here. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but he really looked upset. He wanted me to tell him where the ceremony was last night. He wanted to be there for you. I didn’t tell him, but . . . I felt bad. Maybe I should have told him.”

  “He showed up,” Sheri said.

  “Did you two talk?”

  “No, but I told him we’d talk tonight.” Sheri reached over and pulled the letter closer.

  “How did the ceremony go?” Chloe asked.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want to go to lunch and talk?”

  Sheri almost said yes but then she heard her mom’s question from last night. Have you been back even once to his gravesite?

  “Can I have a rain check? I have something I need to do today.”

  They said good-bye. Sheri stood up, dropped the letter in her purse and went to get dressed.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Danny headed into work, and because of the fog, traffic was a bitch. He arrived a little late. Frankly, he didn’t know why he’d even come. He wasn’t sure he’d be worth a shit today. He’d barely slept. He hadn’t eaten. All he could think about was Sheri.

  He vowed not to take his bad mood out on anyone else though. Yesterday he’d been a bastard, and being a bastard wasn’t like him.

  When Danny pulled up, Cary was just getting out of his car.

  His friend stood by his car and waited for Danny.

  Remembering his vow not to bark at anyone, he walked over.

  His friend looked guilty. “I’m sorry about last night. Chloe’s so protective of Sheri.”

  “It’s okay,” Danny said. “I shouldn’t have put you in the middle.”

  “So you two are going to talk tonight, huh?” Cary asked.

  Danny looked at him, a little surprised that his friend knew. “Chloe talked to Sheri?”

  Cary nodded.

  “Did Chloe say anything else? Does she know why Sheri left?”

  He shook his head. “She told me the same thing she told you. She thinks Sheri’s scared because you left her once.”

  “So she’s getting even by leaving me?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s like that. Chloe said Sheri was really upset. She wouldn’t even tell her what happened. She actually said nothing happened, but Chloe didn’t believe it. At least not until you showed up.”

  Danny ran a hand over his face. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Cary shrugged and gave a half-ass smile. “They’re women. Haven’t you heard? They’re not supposed to make sense.”

  Danny shook his head. “Then why the hell do we even bother?”

  “Because they smell good. Taste good. Because they make us better men.”

  Walking toward his office, Danny saw what was posted on the bulletin board. A blown-up picture of him wearing a Little Mermaid party hat. He didn’t even care.

  He went into his office and dropped down in his chair. He noticed the manila envelope on his desk and recalled Turner dropped it off yesterday. The new sketch from James Perkins.

  Would this one be any better? He picked it up, opened it and hoped like hell it looked like Patrick Ledger.

  It didn’t.

  He tossed it down on his desk. What were the chances they were still wrong? He looked back at the sketch.

  It wasn’t the asshole he’d seen with his hands up Sheri’s skirt that day, but suddenly the face looked familiar. Danny wracked his brain to remember where he’d seen that face before.

  It finally hit him. At the church last night.

  Shit! Who was this guy?

  He shot out of his chair, grabbed his phone and dialed Sheri’s number.

  It rang once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  And went to the fucking voicemail on the fifth ring.

  He texted her and put 911 in the message.

  Reaching down for the sketch, he ran out into the hall and called Turner and Cary.

  “Come here. We got a problem!”

  • • •

  Sheri got out of her car and walked into the cemetery. It had taken almost thirty minutes to get here. After she’d spoken with her mom, she’d turned her phone off so she wouldn’t be interrupted. The morning was cold, misty and foggy. It made the graveyard look like something out of a scary movie. Not that it was just the fog. The cemetery was old, and spooky, on the best of days. Some of the statuary was falling apart as if death had claimed them, too.

  The fog hung low to the ground. All around her, gravestones stuck out of the earth like arms reaching out.

  A chill ran down her spine. She pulled her sweater tighter.

  Sheri looked around. The place looked completely abandoned. But it wasn’t. A car had actually followed her into the parking lot.

  It took her a few minutes to find her father’s
grave. She stood there, her chest hurting.

  She read the headstone: Samuel Clark Thompson, 1952–2015. Beloved husband, father and man of God.

  Dropping to the ground, she pulled her knees to her chest. The ground was wet, but she ignored it. Her jeans soaked up the moisture, and she shivered again.

  Unzipping her purse, she pulled out the letter. Happy birthday, Baby Girl.

  She looked back at the stone, and her hands shook, not from the cold but from the hurt inside her. “Hey, Dad.” She inhaled. “I brought your letter with me.”

  She swallowed a knot down her throat. Tears filled her eyes. “You want to know something? Right now I’m remembering a sermon you preached. It was the one about holding grudges. About letting go and forgiving.” Tears filled her eyes, and she felt them, warm against her cheek. “Mom told me. About what she did. That was big of you to forgive her. I guess people make mistakes, don’t they?” She wiped her tears from her cheeks. “They . . . slip up.” Her voice shook.

  “I haven’t read your letter yet.” She held it out as if he was sitting there and could actually see her. “That’s why I’m here today. And to say I’m sorry. I held grudges, Daddy. I remember what you said. That grudges were like shadows that kept the sun out. Without sunshine, your life can’t grow.” She sighed. “You had a way with words, Daddy. They inspired a lot of people. There were a lot of things you did right, but because of the shadows, I didn’t see them. Or didn’t want to see them.”

  She inhaled. Her lungs wouldn’t take a bit of air at a time, and her breath shook right along with her hands as she opened the letter.

  • • •

  Danny paced his office. He had a black and white go to Sheri’s apartment. She wasn’t answering her door, and her car wasn’t there.

  Cary had Chloe call Sheri, but so far Sheri hadn’t answered. He sent Chloe a picture of the sketch. She didn’t recognize it.

  He called Sheri’s mom, and she didn’t answer. He shot her a picture of the sketch with a note . . . “This guy was at the ceremony last night. Who is he?”