The Magnolia Affair

by T. A. Foster

  I took a leave of absence from Charleston Oaks Elementary, promising I would return once I sorted out my husband’s affairs. It seemed like an odd thing to say. Spence was gone. What difference did it make to him what was settled in his will or the process for his life insurance policy? They were my affairs. Always my affairs.

  The new dean accepted my veiled resignation politely without having to say I wasn’t welcome back at Charleston Oaks. We both knew a public affair breached the school’s code of conduct for teachers.

  Pepper and I were in the backyard. I tossed the grungy neon ball while he sped after it, sometimes accidentally nosing it farther ahead.

  “Come here, Pepper.” He pranced at my feet. “Sit.” I tugged until the ball was free from his teeth. “Ok, here we go.” I hurled it thirty feet.

  “Knock, knock.” Cricket stood at the arbor gate. She held up a casserole. “I brought you some dinner, honey.”

  I flicked the latch and let her into the backyard. The grass tickled my ankles. It hadn’t been cut… since. Well, it needed to be cut.

  “Thanks.” I accepted the Pyrex dish. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I kept meaning to stop by and I made one for Jill too so…”

  “How is her mother doing? I didn’t think I should go to the funeral. But I wanted to.”

  “She understood. I think the plan is now, since it’s just her mom, she’s going to move her into the guesthouse out back and hire a nurse. Maybe it’s two nurses. I can’t remember.”

  I nodded as if I knew what she was going through. Jill’s father died the week after Spencer. I couldn’t handle the looks. It was better for Jill if I didn’t go. The focus should be her dad, not my sordid affair.

  “I guess that’s good.” Pepper dropped the ball next to Cricket.

  “But how are you? We missed you at book club.”

  I laughed, more of a scoff. “Cricket, we both know I’m not going back to book club.”

  “Why not?” she asked, then tossed the ball on the other side of the wilting tomatoes.

  “Because. My husband was murdered and I had an affair with Paxton Tanner. I’m not going to make other people uncomfortable. I’m actually surprised you’re here.” Grief had made me blunt and edgy.

  “What, you think I’m worried what people would think of me? So what? You had an affair. Who hasn’t? Can’t keep yourself hidden in here the rest of your life.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. She was trying too hard to act liberal and non-judgmental.

  “I know what people are saying. It’s better I stay away.”

  “You’re in here beating yourself up, Audrey, but I’m telling you, it could have been any of us.”

  I studied her. Her waxed eyebrows, and enhanced cleavage. “I don’t think so.”

  “I would have done it. Heck, any of us would have slept with him. He’s charming and charismatic. Rich. Richer than all of us put together. And you can’t ignore that body.” She stopped short of fanning herself. “All I’m trying to say is we all have a weakness. It could have been any of us. No one cares that you had an affair. Seriously, honey. Don’t throw stones in glass houses—that whole thing fits this entire street.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. I also have a dead husband.”

  “We all miss Spence.” She threw the ball for Pepper again. “You need support now. Don’t be a recluse. You’re like…like…who was that author we read?”

  “Virginia Woolf?”

  “Yes. Like her.” She grinned.

  “I’m not going to drown myself, Cricket.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I’ve got to scoot. Heat that up on 325 for about thirty minutes. Ok?”

  The casserole was starting to get heavy. “Ok.”

  “And I’m serious. Don’t stay away. We can handle it.”

  I lugged the dish up the deck stairs. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Call me sometime soon.” She waved before rounding the corner of the arbor. “I still have an open spot at my bridge table.”

  I stuffed the casserole in the fridge. There was a missed call from Avery and a text from my mom. I’d get to them later. Paxton had asked me to come over tonight. He had discovered something we could use.

  I showered and fed Pepper. I picked the chicken out of Cricket’s concoction as an excuse for dinner then locked the door behind me.

  “Hey.” Paxton met me at his back door.

  “Hey.”

  “Wine?” Two glasses sat on the counter.

  “Sure.”

  “How have you been?” He had switched to drinking red.

  “Waiting for you to find something. I want Hughes to go to jail. What’s taking so long?”

  “I wanted something that would hold up in court.” He walked into the living room and sat on the couch. I had assumed we’d be in the office, looking through emails or whatever Paxton’s men had found.

  “Can you just give it to me?” I held out my hand. “I’ll plant it and call the police tonight.”

  “Hold on. I know you’re anxious, but let’s just talk through it.”

  “Ok.” My shoulders relaxed slightly. I was anxious and nervous. I let the wine soothe the knots in my neck. “I didn’t mean to rush you.”

  He fished something out of his pocket and held it up. “This is what you’re going to find.”

  “A flash drive?”

  “Yes. I think there’s enough on here to at least point the police to Hughes. They’ll start digging through his emails, and they’ll find what we need them to.”

  “What’s on it?” I touched the top of it lightly.

  “Do you want to know? Maybe it’s better if you’re in the dark about it.”

  I leaned forward. “I can handle it. Tell me.”

  “I had to think through what we could put on it. It has to look real. It has to be something Spencer would have saved. Something that he would have intentionally placed on the drive. That’s why I haven’t had anything for a couple of weeks.”

  “But did you find something real? Is there real evidence on it?”

  “Yes. But I think it’s best if, for your sake, I tell you everything is real.”

  “All right. I accept that. It’s all real. Just tell me, Pax.”

  His eyes softened with recognition. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

  “It’s just a habit. Don’t read into it.”

  “Right.” He flicked the flash drive. “Anyway. This is loaded with some of Spencer’s personal files from his desktop. It also has tax documents. Copies of your Christmas letter. Pictures from a vacation.”

  “How did you get those?” I questioned.

  “Hackers remember? But no one should wonder why they’re there. Authentic personal files mixed in with the others make the flash drive look legitimate. They are copies of things from his desktop.”

  “Ok, what else?”

  “There’s a folder labeled Anderson & Lee. That’s where the docs are that we need the police to see. An email draft Spencer saved there describes what he uncovered. It spells everything out. He mentions the affair. The development deal. The financial connections between Hughes and Lewis Anderson. All of it.”

  “And you’re certain this is enough for an arrest?”

  “I know the law. I might not practice as an attorney anymore, but I know exactly what the police need. It’s there. I promise. This proves everything.”

  I felt relief. My shoulders finally relaxed. “You did it? You actually found a way to end this nightmare.” I sat back on the couch. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. I needed to do this for you.” His eyes softened. “I wish I could do more.”

  “This is enough. It’s what I needed.”

  He emptied his glass. I followed his throat as he swallowed.

  “It wasn’t you.” I shook my head.

  “No. It wasn’t me. I was here with you that night.”

  “When I woke up, you were gone.�
�� It was less than a month since Spence’s death, but sometimes it felt like years had passed. “And when I heard Spence was killed, I went back to that moment—waking up alone in the guestroom. I couldn’t get past it. God, I’m sorry, Pax.”

  “No. No, don’t say anything. You were in shock. You were looking for answers. The police carting me off in cuffs didn’t help either.”

  “But what I did was unforgiveable. They released you in an hour’s time. Even they knew you weren’t guilty. You have been here helping me the whole time, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “I don’t think about it, Audrey. It wasn’t you. If you only knew how I reacted when Sarah died. It was—” He paused and I didn’t think he would continue. “To be honest, I thought about giving up.”

  “Giving up?” I stared in disbelief at the strong man sitting in front of me.

  “Yes. I stopped eating. I basically survived on bourbon. I drank until I passed out, but then all I found were nightmares.” He was speaking my language. “I didn’t know why I was left here to breathe and she was gone. I gave up. I blamed the mechanic who had changed the oil in her car—actually attacked the guy at work. Punched him until he was balled on the floor at my feet.”

  “Oh my God, Pax.”

  “I’m ashamed of who I was during that time. The poor guy had nothing to do with the accident. She fell asleep at the wheel, but I didn’t want to accept that. I wanted someone to be responsible. Someone should pay.

  So, if for a minute, I gave you somewhere to target your anger, I’m glad. Anger is something you can hold on to for a little while. But not forever, Audrey.” He lowered his voice. “I know it wasn’t you who blamed me.”

  He sounded sure, but I didn’t know who I was anymore.

  He stood from the couch. “We need refills.”

  I watched him through the doorway. He grabbed the bottle of red.

  “Here you go.” He filled my glass to the top.

  “Thanks.”

  He sat closer to me on the couch this time.

  “Now, tell me how you’re really feeling.” His smile was tender, his gaze determined.

  “Empty.” My eyes drifted across his lips. It was as honest as I had been since Spence’s death.

  “It’s my fault you feel this way. My candidacy did this to you. Please tell me what I can do. I want to do more.” There was anguish in his voice.

  I reached to touch his jaw. Stubble covered it in even shadows. He closed his eyes. “God, Audrey, I never thought you’d touch me again.”

  I placed my glass on the table. I took his and set it next to mine. “What can you do to make me feel?” I asked plainly.

  “Really?” He searched my eyes.

  “I feel nothing but numbness. I can’t laugh. I stopped crying. Can you make me feel again?”

  He took my hands in his lap. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”

  “You know exactly what I’m saying.” I yanked my hands from his grip and attacked his top button.

  “Audrey, I don’t want to take advantage of this situation. You’re grieving. You’re still trying to find your place.” His eyes closed when I sat back.

  “Isn’t this one of the stages of grief?” I asked flatly.

  “God, I don’t know.” He leaned closer to me, his breath heating the side of my cheek. “I can’t think straight when you look at me like that.”

  “I’m tired of being empty. Can you make that stop?”

  There weren’t thoughts or plans. Only desperate need to feel human again. To be with the one person who didn’t pity me or despise me. The only one who didn’t see me as a cheating whore.

  “Audrey?” he breathed against my neck, and I knew he was trying to restrain himself, trying to be cautious with me.

  I pushed back from him and rose. I walked into his room, tipping Sarah’s picture over as I passed it. Slowly, I pulled the shirt over my head, and stepped out of my jeans. I climbed into bed and waited for Paxton.

  It may have been five minutes before he walked into the room; I don’t know how long I waited.

  He stood in the doorway. It was dark, just like the last night we were together. I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t need to.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I asked.

  “No.” He crossed the room. His shirt dropped to the floor. I heard the buckle from his belt hit the hardwood. “I wanted to give you time to think in case you wanted to change your mind.”

  He pulled the covers back, and I gasped when he rolled me on my back. The sheets were cool against my skin.

  “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispered against my throat. Paxton kissed my neck and behind my ear, his hands coiling long strands of my hair between his fingers.

  I needed heat. I needed him to banish the coldness of guilt and sadness in me. I needed him to take the emptiness away.

  “Make me forget,” I begged him. All the while knowing that I couldn’t think about anything else. I was broken, fractured into pieces so tiny they could never be reassembled.

  I closed my eyes as he moved in and out of me, taking his time. Whispering how much he loved me. Pushing deep into me, declaring I was beautiful and sexy. And when our bodies quivered and spiraled with vibrations that drummed in my head, I screamed. I clawed and screamed, pulling his hair, biting his skin. I fought the warmth and the comfort surging through me. I was wrong. It was better not to feel.

  “Shh…” Paxton nestled behind me. His arm locked against my chest. “Shh…it’s ok. You’re ok.”

  My skin started to cool. The sheets were damp with sweat. I stared at the dark wall.

  “I love you.” He kissed my shoulder. “I missed this. I’ve wanted you to come back. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t think about love. When I heard his breath turn to rhythmic snores, I slid out from under his arm. I walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

  I didn’t know what I felt. However, for a moment, I forgot. There was a moment when I wasn’t a widow and my husband wasn’t murdered. I wasn’t unemployed. I wasn’t pitied. I wasn’t shamed. I wasn’t an adulterer. There was a moment all of it fell away.

  I walked back to the bedroom and climbed into the bed, rolling Paxton on his back. I straddled him and kissed his chest.

  “Hey,” he mumbled sleepily.

  I rocked forward again until he responded underneath me. His hands landed on my hips, and I lowered myself onto him, gasping at the feeling.

  “You ok?” he asked.

  “Just fuck me,” I whispered. I closed my eyes.

  I needed another moment.

  The next morning, I took the flash drive home and dropped it in Spencer’s top dresser drawer. I called Detective Pendleton and told him I thought he should come over. I may have found something while I was boxing up Spencer’s things, but I didn’t want to touch it if it was important to the case.

  The detective was at the house within the hour. I let him in.

  “Hi. Thanks for coming over so quickly. I don’t know if it’s important, but what if it is?” I had rehearsed my innocent lines with Paxton over breakfast.

  “I’m glad you called. With an open investigation, it’s critical to examine possible evidence. You never know what might turn up. Where is it?”

  “In here.” I led him to our bedroom. I had staged boxes around the room. I pulled open the drawer. I pointed at the socks. “It’s in the back. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

  Pendleton moved Spence’s socks to the side, revealing the thumb drive. “Huh.” He held it up.

  “Spence kept everything from work in the office. Everything. I don’t know why this would be in the back of his drawer. I haven’t looked at it yet.”

  The officer put it in a small plastic bag and sealed it across the top. “Might be worth seeing what’s on it.” He tucked the evidence in his inside breast pocket.

  “Thank you. I hope there’s something on there
.”

  We walked back to the front door. “I’ll keep you posted.” He turned. “If you see anything else like this, let us know.”

  I nodded vigorously. “I will. And you’ll tell me what you find?”

  “Let me get back to my station and take a look. I’ll call you.”

  “Thank you, detective.”

  I watched as he walked down the sidewalk, carrying the stick Paxton had created. There was real data on it, I told myself. It didn’t matter if we had to blur a few lines. Senator Hughes was responsible for killing my husband.

  Paxton had come through for me when no one else had. No one else would have been able to do what he had done either. He had the money and resources to catch Hughes. He was a step ahead of the police. It may have taken a few weeks, but it would be worth it when the police arrested the bastard who had Spencer killed.

  Today Pax was attending a rally on gay rights. He said he would call later, and stop to check on me. He would want to know what Pendleton said.

  I sat on the couch and waited for the detective to call.

  The next day, the only story on the news was the arrest of Senator Hughes. He was taken into custody immediately following one of his stump speeches. I watched it, giddy almost. The man who was behind Spencer’s death didn’t look like a murderer. He wore round glasses, spectacles really, and his salt-and-peppered hair was definitely more salted than in his campaign photos.

  I had read somewhere that he had four children. They were adults now, but what kind of father would put his family through something so evil? What kind of man could do this to me?

  Detective Pendleton told me they had found an email from Spencer. In the email, he tried to warn his fellow partners that their business deal was suspect. Lewis Anderson was siphoning money to the incumbent senator’s campaign.

  The detective said it was enough to provide motive. That along with the statement from Paxton that Hughes had threatened to ruin his campaign, the police didn’t delay with an arrest.

  I granted a few choice interviews. I crafted quotes ahead of time with Paxton’s help.

  “I’m happy justice will be served.”

  “I have the utmost faith in the Charleston Police Department.”