“Tuesday,” she replied, trying not to look directly at me.
George and Anna both appeared a few moments later. “Would you like to sit down?” George asked, directing me to the nearby lounge.
“Can I play with Noah?” Jolie chimed in, finding a way to rise above her embarrassment for me or at least mitigate it some.
I turned and handed Noah off to her before following George and Anna.
“We are so sorry that ... ,” Anna started.
I raised my hand to cut her off. Platitudes, well intentioned though they were, were confusing right now. I wasn’t sure how I felt and I was anxious for answers, answers I was hoping they could provide. “Do you know what happened on the night shift the evening Paul was shot?”
Both registered surprise at the question. George finally answered. “I’d have to look over the records, but I think it was a pretty uneventful night.” He let out a small gasp at the insensitive comment he had inadvertently made. “I mean, nothing unusual went on here at the hotel.”
“Why did Paul head out to the grocery store in the middle of his shift?” I asked, adding, “In the dead of night?” as if somehow I wasn’t clear the first time, or maybe still trying to deal with the questions in my mind.
If I had thought they’d looked surprised before, I was mistaken. They looked at me, then at each other. As if by mutual agreement, Anna began, slowly, softly, “Brea, Paul wasn’t working that night. He took a leave of absence about a month and a half before he was killed.”
Knives couldn’t have felt sharper to my heart. I wanted to stop the pain, to take the knives out and stanch the flow of blood that was beginning to drown me. Why didn’t I know about his leave? Why didn’t he tell me? If he hadn’t told me about that, I had to wonder what else he was hiding. No, it bitterly dawned on me, I needed to make that past tense. What else had he hidden from me? He wasn’t even here to answer for himself. How dare he chicken out that way!
I was boiling inside. What was he doing taking a leave of absence in the first place? And if he was on leave, where in the world had he been going all that time? The pain spread to my lungs as I took a sharp intake of breath. His “leave” coincided with his working the graveyard shift. What had he been doing?
I took a slow, deep, cleansing breath. No pain came this time. My hands were in tight fists, but I forced myself to speak calmly. “Did he say why?” I should have been embarrassed needing to ask the question, but my desire for answers overwhelmed any sense of shame.
“He said the three of you were going to be taking an extended family vacation, visiting your folks who were in ill health.”
“Are you sure? My parents are perfectly healthy. They actually were in Europe until a week before Paul died. You didn’t mix him up with someone else did you?” But, of course, I knew the answer to that.
They didn’t insult me by trying to answer what was surely a rhetorical question. We all sat in stunned silence as possible answers swirled in our minds. I could see in their eyes the thoughts dancing past, none of them pleasant.
At my prompting, we all stood without a word. George reached out to me and embraced me. When he let go, Anna took his place. “Let us know if there is anything we can do for you.” But we both knew the words were hollow, even if she meant them to be sincere, because it was readily apparent to all that the situation was beyond help.
I numbly walked to the front desk, took Noah back into my arms, and shuffled in stunned disbelief to my car. I had never dreamed that my husband had been lying to me, never entertained even an idea of such a thing. In many ways, this was worse than his dying. When he was shot, his physical body had died, but now the man I thought I knew was disappearing before my eyes. Did the man I knew even exist in the first place? What was real and what was fake? I felt overwhelming grief all over again. With his death I had lost a future with him, now it seemed our past was being taken as well. I was too shocked even to cry.
CALLING OUT FOR MOM
I don’t remember driving home. The rest of the day was one long blur until I put Noah down to bed. When he settled down, I slumped to the floor in the hall outside his room. I was reluctant to be far from his side, afraid he would evaporate like the rest of my life.
With that fear came new frenetic thinking. I needed to understand what Paul was doing, had done. Even if it meant facing that fear, risking everything, I had to learn the truth. Before long I realized it was midnight, but I picked up the phone. “Mom?” I could hear an audible sigh of relief on the other end. “Mom, before you say anything, I need your help. Can you and Dad come out and help me with Noah? I have some things I need to take care of. I’ll explain later. I don’t think I could now, even if I wanted to.”
With only a moment’s hesitation, “Absolutely, dear, we’ll check on flights and see how quickly we can make it. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
I had made a commitment to be Noah’s mother above anything else. I hoped I wasn’t backing out of that. No, I assured myself, this was a necessary step. If I was going to be any kind of a good mother to him, I needed to find out what his father was.
A minute later, the phone startled me. For the first time in days, I answered it. “Mom?”
“Yes, Brea, it’s me. Dad and I will catch the first flight out in the morning. Should we rent a car?”
“No, Noah and I will come and pick you up. And while you’re here, you can use Paul’s car. He doesn’t need it anymore.” I was surprised at how matter-of-fact I was being. Having a task to accomplish was helping me be very practical. “But, Mom, I don’t know how long I’ll need you.”
“That’s okay. We are in the process of clearing our schedules. We’ll stay as long as we’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Mom. I ... I know I’ve been shutting you out. I just ... “
“It’s okay,” she cut in. “We’ll talk tomorrow when we see you. I’m just glad you finally let us back in. We’ve been worried, but there’s something in your voice that tells me you’ll make it. ‘Til tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom,” I whispered back. If she only knew where the determination in my voice was coming from, she might not be so sure of a positive outcome.
I stood up from my perch in the hallway and wearily made my way to my bathroom. I picked up my toothbrush and then paused at the reflection staring back at me. It had only been a short while since Paul left us, but I could see the grieving in my face, grieving that was now replaced with what? Anger, fear at what I would find, confusion? That was probably it - confusion. Was there another woman? I finally voiced the thought in my mind. It rattled around in there, like a fly trapped by a closed window. Surely, there was some other explanation, but that thought just could not escape.
I looked again at my reflection. Was I not enough for Paul? My blonde hair was longer than when we had met, but it had the same natural highlights and gentle wave. My face was still young and what most would consider attractive. Was something wrong with it? I turned from side to side, critically staring at every imperfection. Was this happening even though my looks hadn’t faded? What would have happened if Paul had lived and with time, they did fade? Or was it something else? Was it something wrong with me, who I was as a person? Where had I gone wrong?
I was jumping the gun, I knew. I didn’t know if there even was another woman. Get control of yourself, I told myself. Stick with what you do know.
So what exactly did I know? I knew only one thing, that Paul told me he was working the night shift when in fact he wasn’t. So what did that mean?
That I was too trusting is what it told me! Never did I question Paul’s move to the night shift. Then again, I hadn’t felt the need to question what he told me. I was a trusting person by nature.
I looked in the mirror again. I was more than what I saw reflected back. Paul knew that, didn’t he?
Was he more than a handsome face? He was just so incredibly charming. Was that it? Paul’s charm? He could have charmed the skin off a snake and had the snake slither away happy.
Sleep was far from me as I began to examine my life. Had Paul always charmed me into everything? Was his love for me real? Maybe I shouldn’t have married him so quickly. But I pushed that thought aside, knowing that if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t have done things any differently. Questioning the decisions I had made wasn’t going to help in the end. I trusted Paul. Trust wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?
I honestly didn’t know, but I did know that it was time to start thinking, time to start asking the questions I should have been asking all along. I determined to do all I could to figure out exactly what was real and what was a lie. Tonight I would make my own plans, and then when my parents came to help with Noah, I would find the answers I needed, answers so I could get on with my life, so that Noah and I could get on with our lives, one way or another.
My mother and father would be devastated by what I would tell them, but that could wait until after they arrived, maybe even until after I learned what was really going on. For now, let them have their peace, thinking the worst was over.
STARTING AT SQUARE ONE
Noah and I picked up Mom and Dad the next day at the airport. I watched them loading their bags into the back of the car. They were a good team. Mom was 5’8” and nestled perfectly under Dad’s 6-foot frame. It was a protective embrace and never a domineering one.
My dad was going gray above the ears, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was more pronounced than when he had been here for Paul’s funeral. I felt a twinge of guilt for my part in that gray. When Dad finished loading bags and turned to smile at me, I found myself bathed in his love. He would do anything for me, even trade his dark hair for gray, just as I would do anything for Noah.
Dad had been a consultant for years, working for himself. It had paid him well, eventually, after those money-building years. Now, with some wise investing, he could set his own hours and choose his own vacations. Mom had been his invaluable office manager through it all. I was grateful that they had been able to drop everything to come, knowing that most don’t have that luxury.
Mom came up behind Dad. She was a beautiful woman with short, wavy, blonde hair sprinkled with gray. She had put on some weight over the years, just like Dad had, but she wore it well. It made her look more like a loving grandma that way.
She added her smile to his, but hers spoke chapters while his had been a single sentence of love. I could tell she had worried herself through many a sleepless night. The dark circles seconded this. More than anything, I could see the tentativeness in her smile. Could she let her guard down yet? Was I really on the upswing?
The words of reassurance I wanted to give her were stuck in my throat, cutting off my breath. It was with disheartening reality that I knew I would add to her worry before I would allay it. I didn’t even trust my smile not to betray my concerns to her. Instead, I reached out to embrace them both before climbing into the car to drive them home.
Mom and Dad had barely brought their suitcases inside when I was itching to be on my way. The car ride had been quiet, except for Mom’s playful words with Noah. I hadn’t known where to begin. Now, unfortunately, it wasn’t any better, but I didn’t want to put it off any longer.
“Mom and Dad, would you mind coming and sitting down for a minute?”
“Sure,” was the quick response. They both registered an eagerness to know what was going through my mind.
When we were settled in chairs in the great room, with Noah crawling around our feet, I finally met their gaze. Could I really do this? Time to be strong, I told myself. I would face whatever was coming head on.
“This is not the easiest thing to talk about, but something was up with Paul. I don’t know what it was. I need to figure it out. It dawned on me yesterday that he had no good reason to be in that grocery store the night of the robbery. I did some checking and found out he wasn’t even working at the hotel anymore. He had taken a leave of absence, supposedly so the three of us could go visit you two.”
“Are you sure, honey? Was he planning a surprise trip?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Mom. There was no trip. He said it was because you were in ill health, and all of it was apparently taking place when you and Dad were in Europe. Paul was well aware of where you were. There’s no mistake. He out and out lied to a lot of people. I don’t know the reason for it yet, but my imagination is starting to get the best of me, and I’m not coming up with anything good.”
I took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not sure that I’ll like the truth, but not knowing it is eating away at me.” I looked at my parents, people who could trust each other, and just as important, a couple still very much in love. They had in their marriage what I thought had been present in mine, that was until yesterday. With a sigh of resignation, I continued. “I want to find out what was happening. It’s for me and Noah, so we can move on together, but I need you here so that I know Noah is safe and happy. Then I can learn what I need to know.”
Their faces registered the shock and hurt I expected. Thankfully, I also saw the fierce determination that had been my birthright, the determination that Paul had finally unleashed within me. I wondered if he would really want me to be self-confident right now.
Mom spoke first, but she spoke for both of them. “Brea, you do what you need to do. When you want to talk it out, we’re here, but if you want to just think and mull it over, we’ll understand. You go; we’ll take care of Noah.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, until I released it. Admittedly, I hadn’t expected any other response, but I was grateful to have it expressed. I looked at them both for a moment. I was ready.
I bent down and kissed Noah. “You have fun with Grammy and Grampy, okay little one? Mommy loves you.” I almost added, “You’re the apple of my eye,” but I caught myself up short. It all felt like rotten apples about now.
Hugging Mom and Dad in turn, I said, “I have my phone with me. Call me if Noah needs anything. I’ll be back when I can. Thanks again.” Grabbing my purse and my newly created list, I went out to the garage.
This time opening the garage door and inserting the key into the ignition, I had no questions about where I was going. What I would find was another matter. I did, however, know where I was starting. I was going to visit the grocery store where Paul lost his life, hoping I could find what I was missing.
. . .
Harper’s Mart didn’t look like much from the outside. It looked as if it had been built in the middle of last century and hadn’t been updated since. Even the sign out front was leaning to one side with faded blue letters spelling out “Harper’s Mart.” The small parking lot was empty except for one car in the back, I assumed the owner’s, and a broken down truck with a big “For Sale” sign in the front window. “Boy, Paul sure knew how to pick ‘em,” I muttered to myself.
I stepped out of my car, making sure to lock the car doors behind me. Stepping gingerly over the cracking and weedy parking lot, I approached the front door. Not surprisingly, the paint was peeling around the doorframe. I pulled open the door and stepped inside. I didn’t want to look down at the floor in front of the register, but I couldn’t help but do s
o, even though no bloodstain remained. I stared at the empty spot, feeling acutely the hole in my heart.
“Can I help you?” came from somewhere behind the counter. I looked up to see an older man with thick bifocals. He still had a lot of hair, but most of it was growing out of his ears and in a ring like a fallen halo above his ears and around his head. It was hard to see where the halo-hair stopped and the ear-hair began. He stood up to greet me, but being vertical didn’t increase his height much, being bent over with age. I felt sorry for this man who had been robbed of probably what little he had. My thoughts were straying from my purpose, and I was beginning to doubt this would help me any, but I was here, so I may as well ask my questions.
“Yes, I hope so. My name is Brea Cass. My husband was Paul Cass who ...” and I could tell from the look on his face I didn’t need to finish my sentence.
“Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what would’ve happened if your husband hadn’t been here. But, I’m so sorry, so sorry.” He looked as if he might cry, but I was feeling that way myself.
“Are you Mr. Harper?” I asked.
“Oh, no. Mr. Harper died years ago. I bought this place from him. Didn’t see any need to change the name, though. I’m Walter, Walter Schultz.”
“Nice to meet you, Walter,” and I actually smiled at him. “I was just wondering if you could help me a little. I’m trying to figure out a few things about the night my husband died. Can you tell me anything you might remember about him that night? Anything he said or did.”
He wrinkled up his brow in thought. “I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary. He came in before my regular customer, Frank Walker, did. I think he was talking on a phone, but I can’t be sure.” He paused to drag the recesses of his memory for any remaining details. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much else other than him jumping in front of Frank and taking that bullet for him. He didn’t even hesitate to do it. I’m so sorry,” he said while shaking his head. “Such a waste, such a waste.”
The Apple of My Eye Page 7