The Woman He Married

by Ford, Julie

  “How’d you get the file…Josie?” Lanny asked.

  She knew that telling the story was the only way out, or she could run like hell, but to where? Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she looked around the table and saw that Trisha was glaring at her—Trisha hated it when someone else was getting all the attention—Andy was sporting his usual smarmy expression, while everyone else appeared to be hanging on her next word. Even Barbara was looking curious now after trying unsuccessfully to avoid the subject in the beginning.

  Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, Josie started, “Well, my friends and I…we knew the report was in the plant just like Lanny said.” Josie paused and John jumped in.

  “By we, do you mean, Gina?” John winced as he uttered her name.

  “Yes, actually.” Josie glanced at John to see if he wanted to ask anything else before she continued. “We also knew there were these guys that worked at the plant who always partied at a little dive bar in town after work. They were always coming on to us—” John cleared his throat again, indicating that Josie should move on. “Anyway, some of us girls waited there for them and…well…um…when the plant workers were properly intoxicated, a few girls stayed behind…you know, to look after them…and a few of us simply took their coveralls, hard hats, and security badges from their truck, put them on and let ourselves into the plant.” Josie rattled off the last part fast, knowing that it was all a bit more complicated than that.

  Silence. Everyone was staring at her, speechless.

  She took a deep breath and finished quickly. “We got the report, end of story.” Silence again, except for Andy’s stifled laugh.

  “Yeah, but once you got in,” Lanny said, not satisfied with the Readers Digest version, “how did you get the report? It was in a locked room—in a locked cabinet—there was a security guard.”

  Josie glanced over at John before continuing. He was staring straight ahead with a blank expression. She couldn’t make out what he was thinking, but she was pretty sure their marriage was over, or he was plotting her demise. Either way she really didn’t have anything more to lose at this point.

  “Well, we may have given the security guard the impression that he would be ‘pleasantly’ rewarded if he gave us a tour that included the file room.” Josie felt her cheeks flush.

  “You’re telling me that one of my daddy’s security guards just let you into the file room and then stood back while you ladies rifled through the files?”

  Ugh, does he have to hear every little detail? “He was sort of…distracted, you might say.”

  “Distracted!” Trisha questioned, her face distorted as she made quotations with her fingers. “By who?” Then, she finished with a sardonic, “You?”

  “Whom,” Josie retorted; honestly, she’s John’s press secretary? “Yes, me.”

  “And just what did this ‘distracting’ consist of?” Andy asked the question everyone wanted to know.

  Josie ignored Andy. “Anyway, when Gina got the file, she gave me the thumbs up, and we took our leave. The next day we showed up in court, and the judge had no choice but to set a date for trial. Brian was released. The water was eventually cleaned up, and the families compensated.” Josie stopped a short moment, thinking about how satisfying it was to take down a toxic polluter. “I will never forget the look on Old Man Montgomery’s face when we waltzed into court with that missing report. Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to make it to my next birthday.”

  Silence again. No one dared to speak, or even move.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned!” Lanny shrieked, slapping the table with his hand. “Mystery solved—and I finally get to meet the elusive Josie McClain.” With a huge grin, he put his arm around Barbara. “This is turning out to be one hell of a trip.”

  “Sir…” John couldn’t quite find his words. “I just want to say that—”

  “Oh, don’t you fret. Jocelyn’s a hero. Hell, what my daddy was doing was wrong. I probably would have given her the report myself—all she had to do was ask.”

  Everyone stared, mystified at Lanny’s sudden change in demeanor.

  Josie stammered, “You’re kidding…right?” As she watched Lanny rejoicing over what they did to his daddy fourteen years ago, Josie thought maybe somehow she’d tripped and fallen into the twilight zone. I’ll be damned.

  The band started up, playing an old Bennie Goodman song and Barbara, looking pleased overall, turned to her husband. “Lann, do you remember this song? Let’s dance for old times sake.”

  “Great idea. Come on, ya’ll, let’s all dance.” He motioned to all the men. “Come on, grab your darlin’. I feel like celebrating!”

  Everyone pushed their chairs out while still glancing tentatively at Josie, before making their way onto the dance floor.

  Josie pushed her chair back to stand up, but John stayed seated.

  “John,” she said, “I think Lanny wants everyone to dance.”

  Standing slowly, he asked, “Just so I have this right. You broke into the plant of my biggest contributor—a felony, I might add. Stole documents…and then, slept with the security guard to cover it up?”

  “Well, the documents were already stolen; I just took them back. And…technically, we didn’t actually do any sleeping.” She gave John a demure smile and a wink before swiveling around. The chiffon hemline of her dress floated up lightly with the movement as she headed for the dance floor.

  John trailed, befuddled, in her wake.

  * * * *

  Josie’s head was reeling as she twirled slowly on the dance floor in John’s arms for the first time in…well she couldn’t recall for sure. Talking about the old days when she and Brian were fearless, self-righteous, and invincible made her feel almost giddy. She’d been cornered by Lanny but stood firm, took him on, face to face, and somehow everything turned out all right. Unconsciously, a smile kept forming on her lips, but she tried to rein herself back in; she didn’t want to appear too smug.

  Dancing as close as two people with healthy girths possibly could, Lanny and Barbara keep smiling over at Josie. Patrick and Amy were nestled together romantically while Andy tried to tango with Lydia. With one arm around Trisha, Denton was typing on his Blackberry with the other, while Trisha watched John. Following Trisha’s gaze, Josie was surprised to see that John’s eyes were fixated, staring down at her.

  “So, Brian McAlister…” John said. “The same Brian you’ve been working with for the past six months or so, is the same Brian you…lived—” John choked on the word lived, “with during college?”

  “Yeah, I thought you knew that.” She really hadn’t meant to keep it a secret.

  “I’m pretty sure that I would have remembered something like that,” John said, distracted, looking over Josie’s shoulder—and she knew it was in Trisha’s direction.

  “Oh, please! You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said in the last year.” Josie shocked herself, and John, with her own frankness, and then added, “Maybe more.”

  Turning his attention back to Josie, he wrinkled his brow, eyes amused but thoughtful as he carefully regarded her face before asking, “You really impersonated a steel worker and risked prison to save a small town that you have no known ties to in order to stop a toxic polluter?” His lips turned up as his eyes warmed.

  Josie shrugged, feeling her cheeks blush. She couldn’t remember the last time John had smiled at her. “And, to get Brian out—”

  “How did Brian feel about you…um…doing what you did with the security guard?” he asked, his voice pensive, his gaze locked with hers.

  “I think he was more concerned with getting out of jail and cleaning up the water than…well, some inexperienced security guard that…” Josie hesitated, thinking about how she’d inadvertently left everyone with the impression she and the guard had had sex. Truth be told, he’d barely made it to first base. Josie laughed on the inside, remembering how he’d fumbled around, trying to figure out what to do next. “Well, anyway,
we didn’t actually have sex.” She decided to come clean. “I mean, by the time he was…um…getting warmed up, Gina had the report and we were on our way.” She felt John breathe a sigh of relief.

  Glancing back over at Trisha, Josie watched while she and Denton continued to avoid conversation. And then, as though the wind had suddenly abandoned her sails, Josie felt her mood drop, realizing that what she’d done all those years ago couldn’t possibly make any difference now. Only a few feet away, Trisha was keeping an eye on John while around her wrist, tiny reflections of light danced beautifully from her bracelet.

  * * * *

  At the front desk, Josie tapped her finger while the clerk tried to figure out why her key card wouldn’t open the door to their room. After they’d all enjoyed a dance, Lanny said it was time for the men to “get down to business” and they headed off to devise a plot to conquer the universe—or so it seemed. On her own now, Josie had considered going to the island’s club, but stopped short at the door. Looking in at all the young people in trendy clothes, rubbing up against each other as they danced, she decided that her feet hurt and headed to the room.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the clerk said, appraising Josie carefully. “What did you say your name is again?”

  “Josie—Jocelyn Bearden.” Why is he looking at me like that?

  “Uh, huh… Let me just try something else.” He turned his accusing eyes back to the monitor and typed fervently before stopping abruptly and breathing out deliberately.

  With a forced smile, he cleared his throat. “It seems that you received the wrong key card.” Clearing his throat again, he said, “Let me just get you the right card.”

  After punching a few more buttons, the clerk avoided eye contact with Josie while he waited for the machine at his side to spit out another room key. “Sorry for the inconvenience…must have been some sort of misunderstanding, I’m sure,” he said, smiling through what looked like excruciating pain.

  Feeling a little uneasy, Josie took the card, confused as to how she ended up with a key to someone else’s room.

  Chapter 7

  The bright sun fell warm to her shoulders. A cool wind brushed past, sending a tingling sensation over her skin. Josie stirred as her subconscious drifted between the past and present, sending her back to the night before. Back to the room. Steel Magnolias was rolling across the flat screen TV. Julia Roberts shames Southerners with that muddled accent, she’d thought, didn’t she grow up in Georgia, for heaven’s sake? She was alone. Where’s my husband? Her mind wandered off again…

  A gull screeched overhead; another breeze touched the trees. In the room once more, John was rifling through his stuff, searching for something. He looked disconcerted, so Josie pretended to sleep.

  The heat from the sun faded, the brightness dimming temporarily. Josie shivered; her stomach turned. Her mind tumbled back to this morning. “Well, if it isn’t the out-law Josie McClain,” Trisha’s voice mocked as her image shuddered into focus. “That was quite a story you told last night, but I wonder…was it true? It sounded a bit embellished.”

  Trish’s breasts had strained against her sports bra, while her tight, fully exposed abs blurred, and then cleared.

  “Imagine what the press would do if they found out John Bearden’s wife committed a felony—or was it two?” Trisha clicked her tongue. “Could be very embarrassing for John.”

  Josie struggled to respond but it was as if she no longer had control over her tongue.

  “Do you just spend all your time coming up with ways to embarrass your husband? Like the stunt you pulled the other night with the costumes.” She raised a perfectly plucked brow. “I bet you and your friend had a good laugh about that one.”

  “No,” Josie mumbled.

  “I wonder how many of your messes I’m going to have to clean up before this campaign’s over?” Trisha’s choice in words oddly resembled John’s. “Or, was last night just another example to add to your growing list of unacceptable behaviors?”

  The lounge chair pressed hard against her body—she wanted to move. A man and woman discussing the lunch menu brought her back to the beach. How can they think about food at a time like this? She felt agitated. The voices faded, the words, “cleaning,” “messes,” and “behavior” taking their place, swirling painfully through her head. Whose words were they originally? John’s, or has Trisha been poisoning him against me?

  * * * *

  “Jocelyn…um…Josie,” Barbara sang softly into her ear. “It’s time for our spa appointment.”

  Josie’s eyes resisted at first, but finally edged open just enough to see two empty umbrella-clad glasses on the table next to her chair.

  “We’re going to miss our appointment if we don’t get a move on.”

  Blinking against the harsh sunlight, Josie tried to focus on the face smiling kindly down at her. “What time is it?” she asked, though she really didn’t care.

  Barbara held out Josie’s cover-up. “Just a smidge past one, dear.”

  Once she’d awkwardly turned herself over, Josie pushed herself to sitting. Her head spun with the movement. It took a few tries, but she finally managed to tie the slippery fabric of her cover-up around her hips. Standing up, she felt the world tilting oddly to the side. Maybe drinking Long Island Iced Teas on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea.

  After what seemed like a mile hike through the resort, Josie had to concentrate hard just to appear somewhat steady as she and Barbara walked in silence through the spa doors. With lightly painted walls, bright colored bouquets of flowers, and workers in white lab coats, Josie thought the spa looked more like a clinic than a place one came to relax. On edge now, she wondered if maybe this wasn’t a spa at all, but some sort of intervention center. She glanced around, expecting John to appear with the rest of his entourage, saying, “Jocelyn, this is for your own good.” If this were rehab, she hoped that there would at least be a good-looking guy like Viggo Mortensen in 28 Days.

  A slim young woman with a tight bun and high cheekbones introduced herself as Amber, their spa coordinator. She instructed them to change out of their clothes and into the robes she was holding. “Remove everything,” she said.

  Locked in the small compartment, Josie could barely move and wondered how Barbara was managing to change in hers. Still unsteady, Josie lost her balance while removing her swimsuit and fell against the wall with a thud. This isn’t good, she thought as her knees gave out and she slid down the wall, to the floor.

  Barbara knocked on the door. “You all right, dear?”

  Wedged into the corner between two walls that now seemed to be getting closer by the minute, Josie had no idea how she was going to get up. And to make maters worse, when she looked up, the small compartment began to spin.

  Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.

  “I’m okay…just a minute longer,” Josie said, trying to sound in control as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and hoisted herself up. I’m never drinking again.

  More than a few minutes later, miraculously, Josie emerged from the “box,” almost colliding with Barbara and their coordinator. Barbara gave Josie a patronizing smile while Amber held out two capsules and a glass of water, saying, “Swallow these—they’re N-Acetyl-cysteine.” When Josie gave her a quizzical look, Amber said, “They’ll cleanse your liver.”

  Josie popped them into her mouth, saying, “Maybe I should have a few more.”

  Barbara and Amber blinked vacantly back at her. Neither woman seemed the least bit amused with her joke.

  “So. What would you ladies like to do first?” Amber asked as if Josie hadn’t just spoken. “Massage or facials?”

  Josie chose the massage first. After the dressing room incident, she thought lying down would be her best option for now.

  * * * *

  More relaxed after her massage, Josie was lounging in a comfy leather recliner next to Barbara. Both of their faces were covered in brown gooey mud, their hair up in a towel, while two women wor
ked on their feet. Up until now, they’d kept mostly quiet.

  “I was thinking that maybe we could go shopping after the spa,” Barbara said, breaking the silence.

  “That would be great,” Josie slurred. Even her lips felt relaxed. “I don’t have anything decent to wear tonight.”

  “The shops on the island are over-priced but then, price doesn’t really matter; it’s more important how the clothes make you feel.”

  “Mmmm,” Josie hummed, doubting that John would be so easily persuaded.

  “So Jocelyn—or do you prefer Josie?”

  “Josie, actually. John and my parents are the only people who’ve ever called me Jocelyn.”

  Barbara smiled tentatively, then plunged on. “Josie. So, I’m curious. How did a liberal activist such as yourself end up married to a…well, a rather conservative man like John?”

  * * * *

  John, Andy, and Patrick leaned against the golf cart, waiting their turn to tee off. Four older gentlemen from the Northeast were in front of them and moving slowly.

  “Come on, already! What’z wrong wit ya?” a young stout man in light blue shorts and a Yankees hat complained as an older gentleman in plaid pants kept moving his tee around, setting up each time, but then changing his mind.

  Another man put in, “You gotz a problem or somtin? Come on, pop! Just hitz da ball.”

  “Just hitz da ball already; we’z don’t got all day.”

  “So. I’ve been wondering about something,” Patrick said, looking to John. “How is it that a guy such as yourself ended up married to someone like Jocelyn?” He rushed on to clarify. “I mean, she sort of has that sexy, rebellious, free-spirited thing going on, and you’re so…reserved.”

  “Come again?” John asked, offended.

  “I mean, she tries to act like this proper little housewife, which she obviously isn’t. Face it, y’all are like night and day is all I’m saying.”

  * * * *

  Josie spoke methodically, trying to remember. “It was the spring after my second year of law school, and Brian and I were finally going to Africa. We’d been wanting to go there for a long time and were just waiting for the right opportunity