Anyone but Him

by Theresa Linden

  “I really had fun yesterday.” I bounced on my toes, feeling a bit shy.

  “Me too.” He returned the phone to its cradle, leaned against the counter, and watched me with a little smile on his face.

  “I see you’re wearing tennis shoes and not your new flip-flops.” I carried plates of cheesy eggs and toast to the table.

  “I hate flip flops.” He sat at the head of the table. “I don’t see the problem with bare feet in a restaurant, especially one near the beach. We should be able to come as we are.”

  I sat in the chair nearest him, smiling, thinking of last night. After our heart-to-heart talk on the beach, we’d tried finding a restaurant, but Jarret’s bare feet had posed a problem. “It was fun, anyway. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

  Once his smile faded, he led the Prayer Before Meals and took a few bites of his breakfast. Then he started patting his pockets. “I gotta find my cell phone, then I gotta run.”

  “Maybe you left it in the weight room.” Oddly, it pleased me to feel I knew him well enough to guess where his phone might be.

  “Yeah, probably.” He glanced in the direction of the weight room, then back at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Hey, you probably heard me on the phone. I—I’m gonna swing by work, but I have somewhere else to go today. I’m kind of in a rush now, but I really want you—”

  The phone rang again. I definitely sat closer. He needed to start trusting me. I pushed out my chair.

  He popped up before I could stand and gave a bossy command: “Finish eating. I’ll get that.” Then he had to squeeze past me to get to the kitchen.

  Disappointment fell like a timebomb in my stomach. If I didn’t disarm it, it would go off.

  “Hello?... Hey, what’s up?” Jarret carried the phone to the living room. Stepping around the couch, he gave me a glance.

  I looked away, but I listened.

  “Nah. What’dya want?... No! What do you want?... What?... No, I’m sure of it. There’s nothing on those pictures, just artifacts, tools, and dirt... A student? That young? I don’t think so. You’re getting your facts and theories messed up.”

  I shoved the last bite of eggs into my mouth and picked up my plate. Jarret watched as I carried it to the sink. He hadn’t finished his breakfast, so I shouldn’t start the dishes yet. I opened the pantry and stared blankly.

  “Whatever... Yeah, you can look at them... No, not over here. I’ll get them to you. I’ll put them on a jump drive... I said no!”

  When he shouted “no,” I snapped out of the blank stare and my gaze landed on a box of chocolate chip cookie mix, so I grabbed it and mindlessly started looking for a mixing bowl.

  “Okay, well, I’ll tell her...” Jarret sighed and stepped into the bedroom, making it harder to hear his voice. It sounded like he said, “You can come over after dinner.”

  A moment later, Jarret returned to the kitchen with the phone. “Making cookies? Now?”

  I gave a pleasant smile, pushing suspicion down, though I could almost hear the timebomb that had fallen in my gut ticking off the seconds. “Who was that?”

  He opened his mouth then closed it again and slid the phone across the counter, toward the cradle. Then he stepped around to the head of the table.

  “Jarret, who was on the phone?” I opened the refrigerator to get butter, trying not to look anxious for the answer. Tick, tick, tick…

  A second passed. Another second. Another—

  “Roland.” He spit the name out and his lip curled up on one side as though the name gave him a bad taste.

  “What did he want?” I smashed the butter into the cookie mix with a fork.

  Jarret brought his half-eaten breakfast to the sink and scraped the eggs into the garbage disposal. “Look, I’ve gotta run up to work but—”

  “Did Roland ask to speak with me?” Irritation wrestling with patience, I stopped mixing. Tick, tick, tick…

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Uh... yeah.”

  “So, why didn’t you give me the phone?”

  He rinsed his hands and turned, reaching for the towel. “I took care of it.”

  I snatched the towel before he got it. “No. If someone calls to speak with me, I want the phone.”

  He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. “He wanted to look at some pictures. They’re my pictures from work.”

  The timebomb exploded in slow motion, anger radiating to every inch of my body. Folding my arms across my chest, I glared. “Maybe he knows something about what happened to me. Maybe he wanted to ask me questions or tell me something.” My face tensed and my voice came out too loud. “Are you that jealous of him? Don’t you want to find out what happened to me? Or do you think I’m going to run off with him? We all know he has a girlfriend.”

  He huffed. “And if he didn’t?”

  I shook my head in annoyance, spun around, and threw myself into mixing the dough.

  He stepped behind me and spoke low over my shoulder, his breath warm on my neck. “And if he didn’t?”

  “I thought we moved past that.” I dropped the spoon and faced him, putting my back to the counter. “Yes, I still have feelings for him. But things were changing. I—I really enjoyed being with you yesterday. And I’m amazed that you were going to let me... leave you. And our talk... I thought we were getting somewhere. But how can my feelings for you grow if one moment you’re nice to me and the next...” I gave a little headshake in lieu of saying, “you’re mean, jealous, and possessive.”

  Emotion rippled through his face, then he glanced at his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I have to be somewhere.”

  “So, go. And I’ll use this time to think. I don’t have my memories and I can’t help how I feel about things. You have to respect that. Respect who I am now. I’m obviously not the girl you married.”

  He blinked and averted his gaze.

  “And you can’t control me. If I want to talk to someone on the phone, to Roland or my mother, you have no right to stop me. And if I want to go home to my family… you need to let me go.”

  With dark brooding eyes, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what I said.

  But I had more to say. “I know you said it would ruin things for me to explain all this to my mother.” I swung an arm out in the direction of the phone. “And I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. But it’s my life.” I slapped my chest. “And I need to make decisions for myself... even if I ruin things.”

  “It’s your life. What about me? You’re my wife.” His gaze flicked to my belly. “And what about my baby? Are you going to leave me and take my whole life with you?”

  “That’s just it, Jarret. I’m not going to leave you. Not forever. I’ve begun to see qualities in you that I really like, but I need you to trust me and let me figure things out for myself. I still don’t understand things about us, about you.”

  He stood speechless, his gaze flitting from me to the countertop to the floor. He shook his head. “All right.” He threw his hands in the air and stalked past me. At the front door he stopped. “Did you ever call Kelly?”

  “Who?”

  “I gave you her phone number.”

  “Oh...” That’s right, he had. What had I done with it? “No, I never called.”

  “I wish you would. You’d figure some things out about me. About us.” He yanked the door open.

  “Jarret, wait.” I went to him, ready to push things even further. “I need to ask you something.”

  He stood by the half-open door, giving me a blank stare, waiting for the question I hated to ask.

  I cleared my throat. “Did I ever tell you about...” I struggled to get the name out. “…about Sean... how he... kissed me?”

  His stone face crumbled at his mouth. “Sean?” Gripping the edge of the door, he grimaced and gazed outside. “Great. That memory’s come back to you, the one with him. None with me.” His jaw twitched.

  I closed the space between us, wishing I could ease
his pain. “No, I don’t have any memory of it. I found out. I just wondered if I’d told you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Of course you told me. I like to think we don’t keep crap from each other. Took you long enough, but you told me.”

  “How did you react?”

  He snickered under his breath. “How do you think I reacted? Some guy kissing my wife?” His jaw tensed again.

  “So, you were mad at me?”

  “I was mad.”

  “Did we fight?”

  He gave me a “What do you think?” look and stared outside.

  But I needed more. I needed specifics. “I mean, Jarret, was there shouting, angry words... Was I crying?”

  He met my gaze, stared for a moment, then nodded.

  I only had one more question. “When did I tell you?”

  As if not wanting to remember or wishing this conversation would end, he blinked a few times.

  Stomach knotting, I forced myself to ask, “Was it that Friday? When you came up at lunchtime with my camera?”

  His eyebrows twitched. Did he not understand the question?

  “Was it that Friday I came home late?”

  His lips parted. He closed his mouth and gave a slight nod.

  “When I woke Saturday with amnesia, you asked if I was still mad at you. Is that what you were talking about? You thought I was mad because of how you reacted?”

  “I...” His voice broke. “...go over it in my mind every day.” He stared at the ceiling, his eyes welling with tears. “That was our park, where we always went together. Did you go there alone because of me? Because of my anger? Something happened to you because of me?” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. In a voice heavy with regret he said, “It’s my fault you have amnesia, isn’t it?”

  I touched his hand but couldn’t think of the words to say. Even if it were true, I wouldn’t want him to feel such guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

  Dragging an arm across his eyes, he turned away. “I gotta go. I’m gonna be late.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm before he made it through the door. “I’m inviting Roland over.”

  His head moved. Was it a nod? I shouldn’t need his permission. I was a grown woman. He was my husband, not my father, but I desperately wanted it to be okay with him. So I said it again.

  “I’m going to call Roland and have him come over here.”

  He nodded for sure this time, then he asked in a soft, vulnerable tone, “Will you be here when I get home?”

  “Yes.” I meant it. If I was going to leave him, I wouldn’t sneak to do it. We were past that now. He would have to respect my choices.

  He dropped his gaze to my mouth then turned to go.

  CHAPTER 33

  THE HONDA WHIRRED as Jarret backed out of the driveway. The car straightened, the tires squealed, and Jarret peeled down the street.

  Jittery and sick to my stomach, I dropped the curtain and staggered back, bumping the brown leather armchair. “Wow, what just happened?” I said aloud. Everything we’d built yesterday on the beach had just crumbled in a few short minutes, like a sandcastle overcome by the rising tide.

  Mind racing, I returned to the kitchen. Jarret said he was only stopping at work, that he had somewhere else to go. Where? And why? What could possibly be more important to him than his job? And what had Roland wanted when he called?

  Growing in determination—I needed answers—I snatched up the phone. I tapped out Roland’s cell phone number and pressed the phone to my ear. The first time I used this phone—that I remembered—I’d spoken with Roland. He’d heard the panic in my voice that day and had taken the first flight out to help me. What a friend.

  Roland’s phone rang in my ear. What did his girlfriend think about him taking off? How would I have felt in Ling-si’s place, knowing he’d taken off to help another woman? An ex-girlfriend.

  Then I remembered the airline ticket... Jarret had claimed he’d gone back to help Zoë. Did all the West boys feel the need to rescue every damsel in distress?

  “Hello?” Roland’s voice came through the receiver.

  With a big exhale, I slid into a chair at the table. The view through the glass patio door attracted me. Morning sunlight illuminated the blooms on the lilac bush, bounced off shiny green leaves, and glistened on blades of mowed grass.

  “Hi, Roland. Can you come over? We need to talk and I could really use a friend.”

  “Where’s Jarret?”

  I groaned. He would ask that. He wouldn’t want to do anything to upset his brother. His unflagging loyalty almost annoyed me.

  “Well, he’s on his way to work and then I don’t know where. He said he had somewhere else to go. I told him I was inviting you over. He said it was okay.”

  “Really? He was pretty adamant about me not coming over until tonight, when he’s there, I guess.”

  “I know. We argued about it. But he’s okay with it now.” I winced, recalling Jarret’s sad expression as he’d left this morning. “You can call and ask if you don’t believe me.”

  “I believe you, Caitlyn. And I’ll come over. I’m just surprised. But Jarret can be moody.”

  Placing the phone in the cradle, my thoughts returned to the beach, to our talk, to dinner, and to holding hands. I had to admit that Jarret had good reasons for some of his moodiness. This last week must’ve been torture to him. I had no doubt that he loved me. Maybe he wasn’t moody so much as passionate. And maybe I liked that. If only I could trust him.

  I made hot tea, got dressed, and baked chocolate chip cookies while I waited for the expected knock on the door. Heavenly aromas filled the house, but I wouldn’t try one until Roland arrived. I arranged the cookies, two empty plates, and two mugs on the table. The lilacs still looked fresh and made a nice centerpiece. Sunlight streamed in through the patio door, shining on the vase and mugs, making everything picturesque. Of course, the kitchen had become a bit of a mess. Maybe I’d have time to clean it. Jarret probably had dishes in the weight room too.

  After setting the batter-crusted mixing bowl in the sink, I headed for the weight room. I stepped through the open doorway of the sun-drenched room and my gaze snapped to an empty glass and…the cell phone on the end of the computer desk. Oh, Jarret left without it.

  I picked it up, my thumb accidentally brushing a button on the side, and it came to life. A message notification appeared along the top.

  I froze, staring at the phone. My pulse thumped in my ears. Kelly had sent Jarret a text. See you tomorrow.

  Kelly? The same Kelly Jarret had wanted me to call? Who was Kelly? How close of friends were she and Jarret? What were they doing tomorrow? No, not tomorrow. The text was dated yesterday, so that meant they had plans today. Now? Is that where Jarret was headed after he stopped by work? All dressed up to meet with Kelly?

  Hand trembling, I swiped the face of the cell phone and tapped the text messenger. What other texts had Kelly sent? And what had Jarret sent her?

  A knock sounded on the front door.

  I jumped, jerking my head up and tightening my grip on the phone. Roland!

  Anxious for a friend, someone to share this with, I raced through the living room and flung open the door.

  Roland took one look at me and his dark brows climbed up his forehead. He ducked inside, giving me a quizzical look. “What’s the matter?” Then his head swiveled toward the kitchen. “Something smells good. You make cookies?”

  Unable to keep from frowning, I gestured toward the breakfast nook. “Help yourself.”

  Rather than head for the cookies, he drew closer to me. “What’s the matter?” His gaze snapped to the cell phone in my hand. “You found your phone?”

  “No, I found Jarret’s phone. He was in a hurry and left without it.” I swiped the face of the cell phone again to turn the screen back on. Chest tightening with my anxiety, I tapped the text messenger again. Then I tapped the name at the top of the list: Kelly.

  Roland peered over my shoulder and
we read the most recent messages together.

  Kelly texted: Still on for tomorrow?

  Jarret texted: Yeah, sure.

  Kelly: Good. Everything ok?

  Jarret: A little nervous.

  Kelly: You have no reason to be.

  Then the message from Kelly that I had first seen: See you tomorrow.

  Every word I read stabbed my heart. Jarret, my husband, and some girl named Kelly… Had yesterday meant nothing? Was our marriage built on sand? I staggered to the couch, flopped down, and let the cell phone slip from my hand.

  Roland picked it up, sat across from me on the loveseat, and looked at it again. “You should just ask him about this. Maybe he has a job interview or something.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “A job interview?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean, he’s texting a girl, but we shouldn’t jump to the conclusion that he’s… you know.”

  I groaned, frustrated, but then an idea came to me and I got up. “You know what? Instead of jumping to conclusions, I’m going to find out exactly where he’s going today. He’s obviously meeting Kelly somewhere. Let’s find out why.” I stomped to my bedroom to change into something a little more presentable.

  “How are we going to do that?” Roland’s voice came through my closed bedroom door. “We have no idea where to look.”

  I yanked a casual black shift dress from a hanger and grabbed cute black heels. I rarely wore heels. But a strange sense of competition boiled inside me. After all we went through yesterday and all that we talked about, it sickened me to think he could have another love interest. A part of me hated to think he was the same playboy he was in high school, but another part of me wanted to fight for my man. “He said he had to go to work first, so let’s drive up there and follow him.”

  “Do you know where his work is?”

  “Sort of.” I slipped my feet into the heels and gazed across the bed at my reflection in the dresser mirror. My hair was a mess of unruly curls. “He pointed it out to me once, when Sean and I met Melinda Meyers at a park.” I tried smoothing a few curls, then bent over and flipped my hair, hoping it would all fall into place. Unwilling to waste more time on it, I stepped out of the bedroom.