Sharon stiffened and turned around. “I did it, okay, Jenny? You don’t have to keep on with this.”
“But Mom, I mean it.”
Sharon sighed and went to the medicine cabinet to look for aspirin. “I’m getting a headache.”
“Maybe you and Anne will become friends,” Jenny suggested. “She’s really nice, most of the time. We’ve gotten to be kind of close, and—”
“I think the best we can hope is that we’ll learn to tolerate each other,” Sharon interrupted, hating the bitterness rising inside her. “And we’ve got a long way to go.”
Jenny put her arms around Sharon’s neck and forced her to look at her. She was as tall as her mother already, and it amazed Sharon that she had been as small as Christy not so long ago. Time was flying. Finding it hard to hold onto her bitterness with that sweet face smiling at her, she returned the hug.
“I love you, Mom. And you really are living your faith. I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Sharon said, letting her go. “I knew it was just manipulation.”
“Hey, that’s my job,” Jenny said. She stepped back and gave her mother a serious look. “I’ll help while they’re here. It’ll be good for me, too. I’ll learn responsibility. I can help with Bobby and the kids. It’ll be nice to have them around the house, won’t it, Mom? To have the house full of kids?”
Sharon sighed. “Jenny, I know this is going to be fun for you. But I hope you’ll be sensitive to the fact that some of us won’t take very well to it. Not only that, but your father could still wind up in prison.”
“He won’t, Mom,” Jenny said. “We’re gonna find out who really killed Mr. Dubose. We’re gonna prove he’s innocent.”
The determined tone in Jenny’s voice alarmed her. An image flashed through Sharon’s mind: Jenny out scavenging the streets in search of the real murderer. She took Jenny by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “You are going to stay out of it. You are not going to pry around to find Mr. Dubose’s murderer. Do you understand me? We’re talking murder here. This is dangerous.”
Jenny hesitated. “Mom, somebody’s got to do something.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” Sharon promised her. “I have as much at stake now as you do.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The sooner we clear your father, the sooner they can go back to their own lives.”
Jenny’s face fell so hard that Sharon thought she heard it crash. “Yeah, I guess it’s not forever, is it?”
Sharon almost laughed, but she stopped herself. “No, honey, it’s not forever. Now why don’t you go help the girls get Emily’s things put away?”
Jenny’s mood changed quickly, and as she whirled to jog up the stairs, Sharon noticed the bounce in her step and the joy in her eyes that her family had finally been grafted back together again.
Anne had managed to get Bobby to sleep by the time Ben made it back to the bedroom. As he entered, she was sitting on the window seat, gazing out over the backyard. There were plenty of trees, and a swing set for Christy, and that tree house that Sharon had hired someone to build. It was clear from the way she gazed out the window that Anne envied Sharon’s home.
He stood behind her and began to massage her shoulders. “You okay?”
When she looked up at him, he saw the tension on her face. “This is hard, Ben. Really hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be. The kids are thrilled.”
“The kids don’t have a clue.” She jerked away from his massaging hands, got up, and went across the room to the suitcase. As she began to unpack, tears came to her eyes. “How did all this happen?”
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Just trust me.”
“I have trusted you,” she snapped. “When I told you I was worried about our being so dependent on the gallery, you said to trust you. When I told you that we needed our own home for security, you said to trust you.”
“Owning our own home wouldn’t have helped us today, Anne. I still would have been set up for murder charges.”
“Yes, but we could have gone back to our own house, instead of living off of your ex-wife.” She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes tormented. “It’s humiliating, Ben. It’s my worst nightmare.”
“You’re being melodramatic,” he said.
“No, I’m not!”
“Look, if you’re worried about something going on between Sharon and me, it won’t. I’m married to you now.”
“Being married didn’t stop you before, did it?”
It was a low blow, and he took a step back. “If I recall, you played a part in that, too.”
She didn’t like being reminded of that, so she turned back to the suitcase and jerked out a stack of his shirts.
“Anne, look at the bright side. I get to be with my kids. Emily and Christy get to be together.”
“That’s right,” she said, swinging around again. “One big happy family, huh? Just like it was before I came into the picture. Daddy and Mommy back in the same house. The only thing wrong with this picture is me!”
He turned to the window. “Anne, it may not have occurred to you, but I’m the one who spent the night in jail. To have to come crawling to my ex-wife for help, to let my kids see me destitute and in trouble—you think I wanted it this way?”
“I don’t know what you wanted,” she said, flinging more clothes into the drawer. “I have no idea. All I know is that your name is being smeared all over the papers as a common murderer, and you’ve got me living in my archenemy’s house. From where I stand, life with you isn’t looking too good right now.”
Ben looked back at her. “Anne, I need you to pull yourself together. You’re my only alibi. If you start falling apart—”
“Alibi?” she almost shouted, then quickly lowered her voice. “That’s another thing, Ben. I told them I was with you the whole time yesterday, but the truth is, I wasn’t. When you went for that walk, you were gone over an hour.”
“We needed some distance, Anne—because we were fighting, just like we are now,” he said. “What do you think? That I jogged over to the gallery and killed Louis in that hour?”
“No!” she cried. “I don’t think that. But they might if they knew!”
“Then don’t tell them!”
She turned away and jerked another stack of clothes out of the suitcase. “This is a nightmare, Ben. I hate it.”
“So do you want out? Is that it?”
“Out of what?”
“The marriage. The commitment to stand behind me no matter how tough things get.”
“Where would I go, Ben?” she asked through compressed lips. “Whatever money I came into this marriage with is gone now. I can’t even afford to take my child to the doctor. And I’m not really up to taking more money from your beloved ex!”
“Then get a job! If you’re so dead set on getting away from me, then make some money and leave!”
“I’m not leaving without my kids, Ben.”
“And I’m not letting you take them.”
“Fine.” Her face was reddening, and she crumpled over and dropped on the bed, breathing out a heavy sigh. “I’m stuck with you, then.”
Ben had never been one to keep the tough-guy act going when a woman started to cry, so he sat down on the bed next to her and let out a ragged breath. Putting his arms around her, he pulled her against him. “Look, I’ve messed up once before, and my kids had to pay for it. I don’t want another family to break up. Please, just relax and try to get through this. We can do it. We’ve had tough times before.”
“Not like these,” she cried.
“No, and neither have the kids. We have to be strong for them.”
She tried to pull herself together. Wiping her face, she said, “I’m tired, Ben. I haven’t slept since we left our apartment. How many days ago was that?”
“We’ve only been gone two nights. But I know how you feel. I haven’t slept much, either. Can we jus
t write this fight off to fatigue? Can we just forget the stuff about leaving each other for now?”
Again, she pulled away. “I don’t know, Ben. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“You need rest,” he said. “Why don’t you take a nap while Bobby’s asleep? It may not last long. If he wakes up, I’ll take care of him.”
“And what will you be doing?” she asked suspiciously. “Puttering around in the kitchen with your first wife?”
He sighed. “No, Anne. You don’t have to fear Sharon. I’m the last man on earth she’d be interested in now.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “But if she were interested, it wouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”
“Wrong. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“No. I’m just interpreting them.” She got up and started out of the room. “I don’t think I can sleep right now. I’ll go help Emily get unpacked.”
Sharon decided to set the table alone, dreading the moment when everyone came to the table. When she’d finally gotten all the food into serving bowls and put them on the breakfast counter so that everyone could serve themselves, smorgasbord-style, she went to round everyone up.
Ben was on the telephone in her study talking to Lynda about the possibility of hiring a private investigator to try to find the real killer. Sharon knew that she would have to foot the bill for that, and the fact that he hadn’t even asked her made her angry. On the other hand, it was worth whatever it cost to get Ben off the hook and out of her home. Jenny, who seemed not to know the purpose of chairs, sat on the floor in front of him, listening intently.
She told them both to come to the table. “Where’s Anne?” she asked Jenny before she left the room.
“I think she’s watching TV with the girls. I’ll tell her.”
“That’s all right,” Sharon said, determined not to let her feelings inhibit her. “I’ll tell her myself.”
She walked up the hall and went into the den. Christy sat on the floor next to Emily, both of them engrossed in some sleazy tabloid show that she normally didn’t allow Christy to watch. Since it was just going off and a preview of the news was flashing on, she let it go. Anne sat in a recliner staring at the screen, but Sharon suspected that she didn’t see any of it. Her mind seemed a million miles away.
“It’s time for dinner, everybody,” Sharon said in a light, upbeat voice. “Wash your hands, girls.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Christy got up to reach for the remote control. But just before she could turn the television off, the news came on—and a picture of her father flashed across the screen as the headline story. “A local man is the primary suspect in . . .”
“Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!” Christy shouted.
Sharon froze, and Anne slowly leaned forward. “Ben Robinson, local artist, was arraigned today on murder charges. The gallery owner where he worked was found dead—” As the anchor spoke, footage showed the body covered with a sheet being wheeled out on a gurney. “And evidence points to the disgruntled artist who lived in the studio and had been fired the day of the shooting. We’ll have this and other stories when we return in a moment.”
Sharon rushed forward to turn off the television as Christy and Emily gaped up at her, their eyes round with horror over the image of the dead man in their father’s gallery. The man the newscaster said their father had killed.
“Go wash your hands, girls,” Sharon snapped.
Christy couldn’t move. “Mommy, is that the man they said Daddy—”
“Your father didn’t kill anyone,” Sharon said quickly. She turned to Anne angrily. “I would think you’d be a little more careful about what the children watched, especially today.”
Anne bristled. “I had no idea that was about to come on. You were standing there, too.”
“But I never would have allowed them to watch that stupid tabloid show. Whatever happened to Barney?”
Anne’s tired face reddened. “This isn’t about Barney or a tabloid show, Sharon. At least have the decency to say what you mean.”
The girls left the room quickly, and Sharon watched them go, flustered. “You’re right,” she said through her teeth. “It isn’t about the tabloid show. It’s about them seeing their father called a murderer on television. We’re going to have to be careful and monitor what they watch. Any fool would know that today of all days—”
“Oh, that does it!” Anne said, springing out of her chair and heading for the door. Sharon watched her, furious, and saw the girls still hovering together in the hall. “Girls, I said to go wash your hands!” she yelled.
Anne spun around. “Hey—you can order your kids around, but leave mine alone!”
“Fine,” Sharon grated through her teeth. “Dinner’s ready.” She stormed out of the room, but Anne was right behind her.
“Hey, you know, this wasn’t my idea. I don’t like it. Like you said, I’m here because I have no choice.”
“I know that,” Sharon said. “But I did have a choice. I invited you to come here of my own free will.”
“Why?” Anne shouted. “What’s in it for you?”
Sharon stopped midstride and spun around to face Anne. “My children love their father, and it killed them to know he was in jail. I did it for them, not for either one of you!” she returned. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I have rules in this house about television, and I don’t want my children watching graphic images on the news about how their father murdered some guy—”
Ben walked in and Sharon stopped in midsentence.
“What are you guys talking about?” he asked.
“The news!” Sharon blurted.
“Yeah,” Anne said, turning on him and beginning to cry again. “You’re already all over it. Everybody we know is going to think you’re a killer. You’re a disgruntled employee, after all!”
“The news?” he asked.
Sharon knew she shouldn’t add fuel to this fire, but she felt the need to enlist Ben’s help. “Ben, your wife just let your children see Dubose’s dead body being taken out of the gallery.”
“Give me a break!” Anne shouted. “I had no more idea that was coming on than you did!”
“You should be more careful!” Sharon yelled.
Jenny walked into the room, carrying Bobby. “You woke him,” she said quietly.
The censure in her voice stopped them both, and Sharon felt like a child being reprimanded by a teacher. Gritting her teeth, she went into the kitchen and began sticking serving spoons into the bowls. “Someone’s gonna have to start eating,” she said through gritted teeth. “Come on, Jenny. Eat!”
Jenny put the baby into the high chair that hooked onto the edge of the table and began to fix herself a plate. Sharon heard Anne whispering behind her to Ben, and she wanted to scream. Instead she just decided to leave the room.
“Where are you going, Mom?” Jenny asked when she was almost out of the kitchen.
“To find Christy and Emily,” she said. “They ran out of the room upset.”
Jenny shot a glance to her father and Anne, then silently took her plate to the table.
In her room, Sharon closed the door of her bedroom and struggled with the emotions coursing through her. She wanted to tell Anne to get herself and her family out of her house, and not to expect any more help from her. But the truth, Sharon admitted, was that she hadn’t done what she’d done for Anne’s sake at all—she’d done it for Jenny, and she’d done it for Christy. And she had even done it for Ben, though he was the last person she ever wanted to feel compassion for.
Her only choice now was to quickly get this murder resolved so that they could get out of her house.
She picked up the phone and dialed Lynda’s number.
“Hello?”
“Lynda, it’s me,” Sharon said.
“How’s it going?” Lynda asked knowingly.
Sharon couldn’t even speak for a moment. “Lynda, you’ve got to help me.”
“I’m doing ever
ything I can.”
“I know,” Sharon said. “But I mean, really help me. I’ll pay for the private detective you were talking to Ben about, no matter what it costs. We’ve got to find out who really killed Dubose and get Ben off the hook so we can get them out of my house.”
Lynda was quiet for a moment. “What happened?”
“Let’s just say that Anne and I rub each other the wrong way. There’s so much friction that I’m afraid I’ll catch fire.”
Sharon could hear the smile in Lynda’s voice. “Well, I had a feeling that might be a problem.”
“He’s being set up, Lynda. Someone’s framing him. And it couldn’t be that hard to figure out who.”
“That’s my thinking exactly,” Lynda said. “Look, relax and try to get through this. I know this is hard for you, but as soon as I find out anything I’ll be in touch. I know Ben’s life hangs in the balance. Trust me, I’m not taking this lightly.”
“I know you’re not,” Sharon said, falling back on her bed. “But you’ve been a little distracted lately with Jake and falling in love and all that kind of stuff—”
“You act like I’m a boy-crazy teenager.”
“Call it jealousy,” Sharon said, her tone serious. “I just can’t remember what it’s like.”
Lynda chuckled. “Well, having Ben around might remind you a little bit.”
Sharon quickly shook her head. “I’m wondering what I ever saw in the man in the first place.”
“See how far you’ve come since the divorce? There was a time when you thought your life was over, and that you’d never get over Ben. Now you can’t even remember feeling that way.”
“I guess God has a way of anesthetizing us against those painful memories,” she said. “And time heals. As far as I’m concerned, I wish Anne and him the utmost happiness—far, far away from here. Meanwhile, I just have to keep reminding myself that this is the right thing to do.”
“It is,” Lynda said. “There didn’t seem to be an alternative—at least not one that would be fair to the kids. But you’ll be all right. You’re a sweet lady, and God can use you in this.”
Ulterior Motives Page 6