by Leanna Ellis
“It’s not about Mother.”
He studies me a moment, his pale brown eyes thoughtful. “What is it?”
The words stall, like a car engine on a frigid morning. “Did you figure out the problem with Mr. Peavy’s air conditioner?”
“Sure. We got it runnin’ again. Is that why you came here? To ask me about his air conditioner?”
I shake my head, weary of being afraid, of hiding the truth. “No, it’s me. Something I’ve done. That I can’t undo. And … and …” Tears swell in my throat. I take a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
He leans back, crosses his arms over his chest. The same posture on Mother would seem judgmental, but on Daddy I know it’s his thinking position. I remember when Drew and I were caught on Makeout Flats and the sheriff brought me home. After Mother ranted and raved about my reputation and what a loser Drew was, Daddy simply leaned back, arms crossed, and watched me. “Suzy,” he had said, “are you okay?” Later he asked, “What’d you learn?”
He hadn’t blamed, hadn’t accused. He had accepted. And I search his face for that love that I need now. It’s there, etched in every crease, every line.
He doesn’t prod either. He simply waits.
But I can’t find the words to tell my father what I’ve done. Of how I’ve messed up not only my life but Mike’s and Oliver’s and Drew’s. It’s worse than any funeral Mother could arrange.
“Daddy, have you ever done something you were ashamed of? I mean, really ashamed of. And you had to keep it a secret. And yet you couldn’t? And you knew when it came out that lives would be shattered?”
“You’re living it right now.” He runs his fingers through his thinning gray hair. He’s not a particularly handsome man, but he used to be. What’s been worn away has left not a hardness, not bitterness, but a kindness. “I shouldn’t have ever started toying with the idea of—” He stops himself. “Here’s the truth, Suzanne. I didn’t want to tell you this.” He huffs out a breath. “Truth is, I didn’t want to see disappointment in your eyes. That might break me.”
I reach for him, hold his hand. “What is it, Daddy?”
“I been studying … while I’ve been sitting around here the last few days. Lookin’ at the good book. And I found a verse there that cut me to the core. I’ve been hiding this thing inside. Hiding the truth even from you.”
“What is it, Daddy?”
“The good book says somewheres in Proverbs that if you cover up your sin, which is what I’ve surely been doin’, then you can’t win, can’t prosper, I think is the word it uses. But if you confess, say it was wrong, wrong, wrong and walk away from it, well, then there’s mercy. Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
He gives a nod, as if telling himself to go on. His mouth is in a tight line, a last resistance. Then he squeezes my fingers. “Sugar Beet, there is another woman.”
His words knock the breath out of me. I feel my insides flinch. I try to school my reaction, to control it. “But Daddy—”
“Oh, I know.” He pulls away, stands, and walks to the end of the bed. “I was a fool.”
He shrugs as if uncomfortable.
I fight the tears that suddenly sting my eyes.
“Or I should say,” he goes on, “I thought there was.”
Confusion and disappointment churn inside me. Being married to an attorney, I know the statistics on divorce. I’ve seen our couple friends swap spouses so often it makes me dizzy. But if anyone is the least likely to fool around on his wife, it’s Archie Davidson. Still, I know better than anyone how something foolish and stupid can happen in only a split second. I’ve heard a lot of excuses. “We grew apart.” “He doesn’t understand me.” “I couldn’t stop myself.” I’ve even come up with a few of my own. “I wasn’t thinking.” “He left.” “I needed someone.” But, I have to admit, excuses don’t excuse.
“What do you mean? You thought there was another woman?”
“Well, there was somebody I was interested in. She made me feel … well, different. Better. Like I wasn’t always doing something wrong. Like maybe I was doing something right for once. I thought the feeling was mutual between us. You probably know me well enough to know I ain’t the type to sleep around.” His glance slips toward me then away, makes my own guilt more acute. “Don’t look at me like that, Sugar Beet.” He walks back to me, puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve always been faithful to your mother. Thought I was a good husband, you know?” His mouth twists.
“I know you have, Daddy.” I pat his hand. I realize the toll his secret took on him and how hard it was to tell me. But do I have that kind of courage?
“But then I started talking to … well, it doesn’t matter who.”
A cold lump forms in my stomach. Was it Josie?
“I thought I’d leave your mother first and then be free to pursue … well, you know.” He runs his hands along the edge of the bed and sits down in front of me again. “Thought I had it all figured out. Knowin’ your mother, I figured it would be uncomfortable stayin’ here. Her givin’ us the evil eye, making things awkward. So I planned to take off with … this woman. We could settle someplace else. Oklahoma maybe. My territory runs into Oklahoma and New Mexico, so I could move anywhere. I thought Santa Fe might be nice.”
I nod, realize my own infidelity wasn’t as well thought out. But Daddy had planned it all. My stomach clenches with suppressed emotions.
“But I spooked the lady.” He swears, which is a rarity. “She was interested, I’m sure of it.” He slaps his hand on his thigh. His jowls turn a bright red, moving right up to his ears. In a softer voice, he adds, “But she didn’t want me full-time.”
“She liked you better when you were off-limits?”
“I been thinking about this and trying to figure out how I could be such a fool. I didn’t feel loved by your mother. I took her criticism as rejection. And that left a hole in me, a vacancy. And I started searching for something, someone to fill it up.” He rubs his jaw and his whiskers make a scraping sound against palm. “When you try to love someone, then get rejected … well, there’s just almost nothing worse. I shouldn’t have left your Mother, I know that now. I was wrong. I was searching in the wrong places. Now I’ve ruined everything. She feels rejected, and she’s trying to fill up that hole that I left with flowers and sympathy. Look what problems I’ve caused.”
Tears well up in me. I know the rejection. I felt it when Mike walked out of our home so many years ago. Leaving me. Rejecting me. Hurting me so deeply I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted to be loved. And I know that’s what my daddy was feeling. I reach forward, place a hand on his knee. “You just wanted to be happy.”
“Oh, sure. Don’t we all? But it’s not always about us, is it? If I hadn’t started seeing …” he clears his throat, “this other woman, then maybe I would have gone on thinking everything was just fine. She made me want more. More than I deserved. And I made a fool of myself.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“Do you?” He tilts his head to study me. “Well, now I’ve made a real mess of things.”
“But Mother—”
“This ain’t her fault, Suzy. It’s mine. And I take responsibility. Now she’s fooling around with that old beau of hers.”
“She’s not fooling around, Daddy. I don’t think—”
“Well, I didn’t mean having sex. But seeing some other man by her side has reminded me of when I fell in love with your mother. And it’s made me realize I do want her back.
I’m just not sure how to go about it.” He leans forward, covers my hand with his. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you. And your problem. So in answer to your question, yeah, I’ve done foolish things, things I’m ashamed of, things I wish I could undo. But I can’t. And now I have to figure out how to make it all work.”
“But …” I start then stop myself, unsure of my question, unsure of what to say.
“But?”
&n
bsp; “What if you’d kept your love for this other woman secret?”
“Well, then I’d be a liar. To myself. To your mother. Speaking the truth is better than living with a lie. No matter what happens now, even if I’ve lost your mother and my family and everything. Because in speaking out, in a way it was crying out, it could pave the way to reconciliation. Or not. There are consequences, right? But God’s merciful. I’m just not sure your mother is. But living the way we were living wasn’t right.” He touches a lock of my hair, rubs it between his fingers. “So how can I help you?”
“I don’t think you can.” Tears choke my words. I rub my hands along the tops of my thighs, wishing there was something to grab hold of, something to hold onto, but I feel my life slipping off the edge of a sharp cliff. “I’ve been covering up something too, Daddy. And I have to tell Mike. I have to own up to it. But I don’t know how. And I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“You have a good man there.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“You should have seen him working with Ned Peavy. You know all your mother could see was some naked man swatting flies and ruining her view. But not Mike. He walked over there. Risked getting shot, I guess, because when you’re dealing with someone like that, you just never know.”
“At the least,” I say, “he could have gotten swatted.”
“Exactly. But he reached out to that poor old man. None of us knew his air conditioner was out. Mike’s a good man.”
I bow my head, feel in the fibers of my being the awfulness of what I’ve done. How will he ever forgive me? But now that Drew knows the truth, and Oliver, I don’t have much of a choice but to tell Mike. But I also know inside my heart that it’s the right thing to do.
“I don’t think Mike will give me a funeral next week,” I say, “but it could destroy my marriage. Break apart my family …”
My father’s mouth thins then twists. “If you’ve been hiding something, hard as it might be, then you gotta face it. Hope for the best, Suzy. Pray for Mike. Pray he can forgive or forget or accept. But prepare yourself for the worst.”
“I am, Daddy. I am.”
“God will see you through this. No matter what happens.”
My throat feels thick with emotions and I can only nod and hold onto my father’s hand.
“Then just know that whatever happens, I love you. And I’m always here for you.”
I lean forward, rest my head against his chest, feel his arms close about me. He smells of Chaps cologne and butterscotch candies. “That’s good. Because if Mike kicks me out, then I guess I’ll have to get a room next door to you here.”
33
Does Dad know?” Oliver sits on the riding lawn mower. His legs are covered with bits of dirt and grass.
I came back to Mother’s and found him doing more chores for Mother. Mike’s rental car is gone. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. I lean against the wall of the garage, aching for my son who is fighting so many emotions as I’m fighting my own. Mike should have been the first to know, but Oliver’s needs eclipse everything at this moment.
“I haven’t told him yet.” Yet. That word strikes fear into my heart. “But I will. Did you say anything?”
“No.” He doesn’t quite meet my gaze.
“But I will. I will, Oliver.”
“So what will happen now?” He digs his thumbnail along the hem of his shorts.
“I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”
He shrugs. “What does that matter?”
“It matters a lot, Oliver. This concerns you even more than the rest of us.”
He gives a barely perceptible nod.
Feeling awkward and stiff legged, I walk toward him, kneel down beside him so I can look up into his face. I place a hand on his knee. “Oh, Oliver. I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry that I lied to you, to your father, to Drew. I’m sorry about what I did. But at the same time, I’m not. Because if I hadn’t … well, then you wouldn’t be here. And I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you in my life. You are my joy.”
The muscles along the length of his throat contract. He swallows hard. “You don’t blame me?”
“Blame you? Oh, sweetheart! This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who … I did this. I–I—Can you forgive me?”
For a long moment he doesn’t move or speak. Fear rattles my nerves.
“It’s okay if you can’t. I understand. I can’t forgive myself either. But just know, Oliver, that I love you. And I’m here for you. And we’re going to try to work this all out. Okay?”
His mouth pinches at the corners, making tiny dents in his cheeks. He nods, then he turns the ignition and takes off on the riding lawn mower to be alone.
* * *
THE SUN HAS long since begun its descent. It’s the end of the day. Tomorrow will bring my father’s funeral and all that entails. The horizon deepens to the color of a ripe peach. As the sun dips lower, the sky darkens to the shade of brand-new Levi’s. I’ve been sitting out here on the porch since dinner. Mother fancified Oliver’s hotdogs with side dishes and sprigs of parsley set around the serving platter. My mind is unable to clasp onto anything but what will happen next.
The back door opens, and Mike joins me on the porch.
He sits on the swing next to me and offers me a glass of iced tea. Fresh from his shower, he smells of Dove and Mother’s Herbal Essence shampoo.
“Where’s Oliver?” I ask.
“Watching ESPN and trying to explain hockey to your mother. He’s been fairly quiet since he got the test results back. You think he’s okay?”
“I don’t know.”
Mike puts an arm loosely behind my back. “Your mother seems chipper.”
“Well, she is burying her husband tomorrow.”
He grins briefly. “Look, Suzanne, I know something is wrong.”
“Everything is wrong with this situation.”
“You can’t solve your parents’ problems.”
“This isn’t about my parents.” I place a hand on his thigh, need to feel his solidness before I rock his world with my confession. I wish we were home, someplace we could have total privacy. But I know this can’t wait any longer.
“Is it about Josie?”
“No. Being home has brought up a lot of memories and emotions from long ago. A hard time for us. For you and me.” I glance sideways at him, feel my heart pounding.
He stops the swing from idly rocking back and forth. “Is this about Drew Waring?”
My heart stops mid-beat, then races.
Mike stands suddenly. The swing rocks in an uneven way. I press my feet into the wood planks to right it.
“Let’s not go back.” He leans against the porch railing. “You can’t drive a car by staring at the rearview mirror.”
“But it’s back there, Mike. It’s following us like a big trailer. It’s all my fault.” I stand and walk over to him. We don’t look at each other but out across the rocky terrain at the flames of sunset. Then I clasp his hand, his rough palm against mine, his fingers squeezing with an intensity I feel all the way down to my bones. “I’m sorry, Mike.” My voice starts to break. “It was all my fault.”
“No.” He turns to face me, brushes the hair back from my face that the wind tossed sideways. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I wanted a baby so badly that I put that in front of everything else. It put pressure on you. On us. And then—”
He pulls me against his chest, holds me there, his arms around my shoulders. “I’m the one that left, Suz. I take responsibility for that. No one wanted us to be a family more than I did. And when I couldn’t … when we couldn’t …”
It occurs to me then that Mike isn’t surprised Drew has something to do with that time period. He doesn’t ask what I’m talking about. He doesn’t wonder what a high school boyfriend has to do with the trouble
between us. Maybe he thinks it’s baggage I carried into our marriage. Maybe he thinks I still harbor a love for Drew after all these years.
“I don’t love him now,” I say, my words drifting toward the darkness.
He doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t push me away either.
“How did we make it?” I ask in wonderment, resting in the solidness of his embrace, praying it isn’t the last time he holds me.
“God.” Mike’s answer is simple. “That’s how I managed. It’s as simple as that. God got me through it. He brought me back to you when I didn’t have the courage. He helped me to see my mistakes, my failings. He helped me—” Once more he cuts off his words.
“Helped you do what?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. But if I had acted the way I wanted, then we wouldn’t be here together.”
“We have a strong marriage,” I reassure him and me, bracing myself for the inevitable crack that is to come.
He nods, resting his cheek against the top of my head. “We’ve survived.”
The conversation ebbs, and I contemplate letting it go. But something rises up in me, pushes me to confess what I never wanted Mike to know, what I tried to protect him from. Am I being masochistic, throwing everything at our marriage to see if it’s strong enough to withstand another blow? After all, Drew isn’t demanding visitation rights. Oliver is quiet but resolute. I don’t know. Is it God urging me to clean the slate once and for all? Or do I simply want all our secrets out on the table where nothing else can shake us to the core again. The answer I had been searching for came to me when Daddy told me what he’d learned over the past few days. Hiding sin doesn’t make it go away; it makes it seem bigger, more overwhelming than it is. Bringing it into the light, confessing it, well, it might not work out. It might ruin what’s left of my life. But at least fear won’t rule my life anymore.
“I’m proud of you, Suzanne.” Mike’s words surprise me, catch me off guard.
I pull away from him enough to look into his eyes. They’re deep and soulful. “What do you mean?”