The Magnolia Affair

by T. A. Foster

  The next morning I stumbled to the kitchen in search of the coffee pot. There was a note next to one of my new mugs.

  Celebration dinner tonight. My treat. Promise I won’t be late.

  —S

  I thought I was going to be sick. Everything came back in violent flashes. The feel of another man’s breath on my neck. His mouth claiming mine. The way I let him touch me. The way I reached for him. Oh, God. I dropped to the floor, Spence’s note fluttering with me.

  I wanted it to be a dream. One of those fantasy dreams that all married women have but we don’t act on. The innocent kind where it can be torrid and elicit, but you wake up telling yourself you would never actually do it. I wanted it to be something I could wash down the drain with the shower, but instead it clung to me like dirt.

  Pepper nosed the side of my cheek, reminding me he still needed to go outside. I picked myself off the floor and unlocked the door.

  I could see the magnolia tree. The branches hung low, heavy with waxy green leaves. The sour pit flipped in my stomach. It had happened only feet away from my back door and I let it.

  I had to tell Spencer. He needed to know. I shoved the coffee away. He would be angry. It would hurt him like nothing else I had ever done, but we could get past it. It was a kiss and nothing else had happened. I stopped it. I ran. He would know that part too.

  Spence would have that injured look on his face and he might even want to sleep in the guest room for a few nights. I could live with that. I deserved it after what I had done. However, I couldn’t lose him. He would probably blame the wine. Four glasses was way too many. He would blame Paxton. Sleazy politician. All of it sounded likely. I would wait until after dinner and just lay it out there.

  I didn’t know what words could make it right, but I had to find them.

  My phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from a number not programmed in my contacts.

  I’m sorry. Can we please talk?

  I stared in disbelief at the message on the screen. The notepad. I had given Paxton my number yesterday before book club. My hands shook.

  No. I can’t. I have to go to work.

  I wasn’t sure why I had responded. Instinct told me to ignore him, cut all communication from this point. If he came to the neighborhood Christmas party, I would walk into the next room. If he came to the next book club, I would quit. If he needed someone to get his mail while he was out of town, I’d ask Tina instead.

  My phone buzzed again.

  Just 5 minutes. You can stop by on your way out. Promise it will be quick.

  I read it twice.

  I opened the door for Pepper. He had found an old dirty tennis ball under the deck and dropped it by my feet. “Gross, dog. Why can’t you bring in nice things like flowers?” I lobbed it over the railing.

  Ok.

  I sent the text before the next roll of nausea hit me. I was acting like a thrill junkie, needing my next fix on a toxic hit.

  I hurried to my closet and threw on a tank top with a pair of shorts. No point in dressing up for cleaning out the classroom. I gathered my hair in a ponytail and turned off the light. I poured my coffee into a to-go mug and collected my messenger bag.

  It was already eighty-five degrees outside at 8 a.m. We were in for a scorcher of a summer. I charged across the driveway and through the shortcut to Paxton’s yard. I scowled at the magnolia tree. It didn’t look as torrid in the morning.

  I pounded on the front door.

  Within seconds, Paxton was standing in front of me.

  “Good morning. Come on in.” He moved to the side.

  “No, we can talk here.” I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if Mrs. Ellerby was watching us through her kitchen window.

  His face looked drawn. I guessed he didn’t sleep well last night either.

  “I think it would be better to talk inside. Five minutes. I swear.”

  A pair of joggers waved from the sidewalk. I could hear bits of their conversation as they passed the house.

  “Ok, but five minutes. I have to get to school.”

  “Five minutes.” He closed the door behind me as soon as I entered the foyer.

  I backed up, wanting him to know I wasn’t going to follow him into the house. This was far enough.

  He exhaled. “Look. I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  “Don’t say anything.” I shook my head. It was better if we pretended it didn’t happen.

  “I need to say something. It was a shitty thing to do. I never should have kissed you, no matter how much wine we had.” His eyes were heavy with remorse.

  “I get it. Me too.” I turned for the doorknob. Two minutes alone with Paxton were too many. It was already happening again. The air felt different. My heart thudded against my chest. I had to get out of here.

  “It’s just—I—” He sat on the bottom step of the staircase, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t met anyone since Sarah died that I’ve connected with, and I’m kicking myself that I thought we had some kind of connection. It was wrong. I know you’re married.” He hadn’t looked up from the floor yet to face me.

  “I am. Very married.”

  “It’s not like I do that all the time. I just want you to know that.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone if that’s what you’re implying. I’m not interested in hurting your campaign.”

  “God, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” His eyes flared. “I’m trying to apologize. I can’t explain how or why I have feelings for a woman I just met. For you. I’ve screwed this up.”

  “It wasn’t just you.” I had clung to him too. Sought his body in the dark.

  “I hope we can be friends.”

  “Friends?” The word sounded silly on my lips.

  “Yes, friends. Neighbors.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” I shook my head. The longer I stayed in his house and talked, the more I wanted it to go on. Standing close to him lit something in me.

  “If you want me to leave you alone, I can do that, but I was hoping we could move past this. Call it a mistake. Call it a lonely widower doing something impulsively wrong that he’ll never forgive himself for.”

  “I’ve got to go to work. This never happened.”

  “I’m sorry, Audrey.” He stood and took a step.

  Before he could take a second one, I slammed the door behind me. I glanced across the street and thought I saw Mrs. Ellerby’s curtains ruffle.

  The magnolia scratched my arm as I tore past it. I rushed to work and spent the day tossing artwork in the trash, cleaning out my desk, and scrubbing the desks. It felt good cleaning the goo and pencil marks off the Formica tops. The harder I pressed, the cleaner they looked.

  I didn’t look at the clock until I heard the last bell ring for the day. The school kept them on schedule all year, whether students were in the building or not.

  I never expected to get my choice school when I applied for teaching positions. It wasn’t a secret there was a teaching shortage, but the senior teachers wanted Charleston Oaks and it was one of the harder jobs to land.

  Spencer never doubted for a second things would fall into place for us.

  “I’m at a new firm, and we just got back from our honeymoon. Of course you’re going to get that job.”

  “But, the only experience I have is student teaching. Charleston Oaks doesn’t usually take first-year teachers.” I was preparing myself for the bad news.

  Spencer tapped the tip of my nose. “This is our year, babe. The perfect year for both of us.”

  I loved how Spencer saw the good in every situation. He didn’t doubt. He didn’t question that the right thing would happen. That was what made him such a good attorney. He believed his clients wholeheartedly. He would defend and fight for them no matter the case. I thought the other partners in the firm took advantage of Spence. They would pass off the cases no one else would touch, but brought in big money, racking up billable hours.

&
nbsp; Spence was right. I got the job at Charleston Oaks. Actually, I interviewed at all four schools that were hiring. In the end, I was able to take my pick.

  I loaded a box of items in my backseat and headed home. I kept my eyes forward when I neared Paxton’s driveway. I had managed to avoid thinking about last night and our conversation this morning for most of the day.

  I closed the garage door, sealing myself inside the house. The blinds were drawn in the kitchen and I couldn’t see that damn magnolia tree.

  Paxton would forget about it. Men didn’t dwell on things like this.

  He’d meet a pretty, single girl. Someone who loved to listen to his political theories. A girl who wanted her picture in the paper and didn’t mind standing next to him during press conferences. She’d be polite and educated, probably from an upstanding family like his. Yes, he’d forget me. He’d forget the night under that magnolia. He had to.

  There was a black dress in the back of my closet Spence always wanted me to wear. I tried to explain to him I couldn’t wear the same dress over and over. Tonight, I put it on without him mentioning it.

  I had to tell him. If I didn’t, it would always be there. I told myself it wasn’t a selfish act to confess. I wasn’t just doing it to make myself feel better. Nothing about it felt good. People who said that weren’t in my situation. They didn’t know how it hurt to carry the guilt, how it weighed me down, how I knew it wouldn’t leave until I told him. It would always be between us—a dark, nasty secret.

  Spence needed to know the truth.

  He had a table reserved for us overlooking the water. The hostess showed us to our seats.

  “Here you are. We’ll bring the wine list.” She left us alone.

  I fidgeted with the napkin in my lap.

  “You know I love that dress on you.” Spence smiled.

  I nodded. Even taking a compliment from him made me feel guilty.

  The waiter placed a thick leather menu in front of us. “The wine list. I’ll give you two a minute to look it over.”

  Spence plucked it up and flipped to the back. “Here it is.”

  “What?”

  “A surprise. You’ll see in a second.”

  I knew the kind of prices attached to the wines in the back of the book. “The last day of school isn’t a real celebration, Spence. We don’t need an expensive bottle of wine.”

  “But we do.”

  The waiter returned. Spence handed him the menu. “A bottle of the Dom.”

  My eyes widened and he smiled at me.

  “Spence, I’m serious.”

  “I made partner.”

  “What?”

  “Yep. I found out yesterday, but I didn’t want to ruin your book club night. They offered it to me with everything I wanted in the contract.”

  “Oh my God. That’s awesome. It’s amazing.” I walked from around the table and drew my arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you. Really, you deserve it.” I pressed my forehead against his.

  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it if you didn’t support me.”

  I loosened my hold on his shoulders, studying the earnestness on his face. “I did nothing.”

  “Sure you did. How many wives would be so understanding about the amount of hours I had to put in? This is just as much your celebration as it is mine.”

  I shook my head. I almost couldn’t take the way he was praising me, thinking I was a stellar wife.

  The waiter returned with the bottle, presented it to Spence, and began the ceremony of uncorking it.

  Spence nodded with approval. He raised a glass in the air and laughed. “I’m terrible at toasts. Can we just say ‘to us’?”

  “We can.” I sipped slowly, knowing my timing was off. I couldn’t ruin his moment of achievement.

  There was never a good time to tell your husband you kissed another man. There was no good way to explain it or ease the certain misery such a revelation would bring. But, this wasn’t the time. He would always associate the night we celebrated his partner news with this twisted, dirty thing I had done.

  I smiled through dinner and asked him to explain every detail of the contract. I asked if he would have a new office and if he needed help with the décor. I sipped the champagne, not caring how it made my head spin. We laughed about how expensive it was, and completely out of our price range.

  We called a cab at the end of the night, Spence always sensible, knowing neither one of us was fit to drive. I hurried the memories of last night to the farthest recesses of my mind when he peeled his favorite black dress off me in the kitchen. I unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest while he whispered my name. My arms and legs opened for him when he led me to our bed. I cried out as our bodies moved in unison, knowing the other with tender familiarity. No, tonight wasn’t the night to confess.

  Four weeks had passed since that night, and I didn’t see Paxton. Not mowing his lawn or getting the mail. Not pulling in the driveway or out for a run. He had become a ghost. Spence mentioned inviting him over for dinner sometime. He thought maybe they could catch a baseball game together, but luckily, he was too busy with his new position at the firm to remember he had even suggested it.

  I fell into my usual summer habits, running in the morning, lying by the pool in the afternoon with a book, and making dinner from a recipe I spotted in the latest Southern Living.

  I gave up trying to talk to Spence about what happened after book club. I didn’t expect the guilt to subside, but it did. Each day I woke up feeling more like myself, not like someone who had been fueled by primitive lust. It really was the wine.

  I flipped over in the lounge chair, pushing my book forward so I could see the pages. There was another book club tonight. As usual, I waited until the last minute to cram in the reading. I was glad we had voted on something more romantic for the summer. I ignored the infidelity in the novel. I interpreted it as a love story. I took a sip of water and returned to the book.

  “Hey, Audrey.”

  I lifted my sunglasses. “Hey, Cricket.”

  “Haven’t seen you in weeks. How’s summer vacation going?” She wiggled into the chair next to me.

  “Good.” I placed a bookmark in the center of the last chapter. “Just finishing up the book.”

  “I read it last week. Loved it!”

  “I only have one chapter to go.”

  “Don’t worry. No spoiler alerts here.” She threw her hands in the air.

  I pretended to laugh.

  “Where are the kids?” Cricket had two of the most adorable towheaded children I had ever seen. Despite the way their mother always seemed to irritate me like sandpaper, I loved her kids.

  “With the nanny.” She sprayed her arms and legs with sunscreen, then adjusted a wide-brimmed hat above her sunglasses. “Looking forward to book club tonight. Do you think the senator will be there?”

  I tried not to react. “Not sure.”

  “I know we keep it strictly ladies, but I wouldn’t mind if he showed up again. You know?”

  I pretended to concentrate on the book. “Uh-huh.”

  “If I weren’t married…” Cricket babbled on about Paxton’s eyes and broad shoulders. I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his eyelashes. I recited the alphabet front and backward, trying to drown out the sound of her voice. “I mean, it’s the saddest thing, him living all alone in that big house. No one to share his campaign with. I’m sure he’ll get elected. What do you think about Senator Hughes?”

  “Sure.”

  “Haven’t you been following the news?” Cricket spun her legs between our chairs.

  “Not really.” The truth was, anytime I saw election coverage, I turned the channel.

  “Well, the race is heating up for sure. No one thought that incumbent Hughes had a chance, but I’m starting to think he’s going to give Paxton a fight. But he’s going to win in the end. I know he’ll win. Senator Tanner has a nice ring to it.”

  I turned the page, having no idea what I had just rea
d.

  “You’re going to vote for him, aren’t you?” Cricket prodded.

  I learned when we moved into the neighborhood not to get involved in social discussions. I was ok not sharing the same perspective as my neighbors; that wasn’t it. The people around us didn’t seem as accepting of opposing views, and it wasn’t worth awkward encounters like this one at the pool.

  “I don’t know, Cricket.” I rolled onto my back.

  “The election is still months away, but he has my vote. It can only be a good thing to have the ear of a state senator. He lives right on our street. He’s your next-door neighbor. I know you’re going to vote for him. You will.”

  I started to pack up my pool bag. “I’m going to head home and shower. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Ok. See you then. Tell Spence I said hey.”

  “I will.” The pool gate clanked behind me. A family loaded with water noodles ran by as I walked home.

  I hadn’t thought Paxton would attend book club tonight. It had to be a one-time deal. After discovering it was a women’s only group, he wouldn’t barge in again. That was what I told myself.

  I turned on the shower, ready to rinse off the sunscreen and sweat I had collected all afternoon. My phone rang on the counter.

  “Hey.” I held the towel close to my chest.

  “I’m on the road.”

  “Ok, I’m getting in the shower.”

  “Nice. Sorry I’m missing it.”

  “Spence,” I teased.

  “I’ll call when I get there. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  “Good luck. I know it’s going to work out. Isn’t that what you always tell me?” The mirror was starting to fog.

  “It is. But I don’t know about this one, babe. I’ve only been partner a month and I’m already pitching an acquisition with a group in Columbia. I think I’m out of my league.”

  “The other partners obviously don’t think so. You’re perfect for this.”

  “If you say so.” His voice was garbled by car noise.

  “I do. Now I’ve got to get in the shower before I run out of hot water. Text me when you get to the hotel. I’m at book club tonight and I don’t leave my phone on.”