The Woman He Married

by Ford, Julie

  “What makes you think Trisha’s lying?” Josie asked, challenging her mother-in-law’s denial indifferently while keeping an eye on the cameras and reporters out front.

  “Of course she’s lying. My John would never do such a thing to his family!”

  “And I suppose you think Andy wouldn’t either?” Josie’s words dripped with sarcasm as she thought about Andy’s secret love nest.

  “What are you insinuating?” Gloria snapped. “If it is true, John never would have done such a thing unless you drove him to it!”

  “Momma, that’s enough.” John’s authoritative voice startled them both. “Jocelyn’s not responsible for my indiscretions.”

  “That’s because it’s all just hateful lies!”

  “Momma, would you just…” Sighing, John gave up quickly and turned his attention to Josie. “Where are the kids?”

  Josie’s palms started to sweat—the moment she’d been dreading since this morning had finally come. “Family room,” she said.

  “What are you planning to do, John?” Gloria stepped in front of him. “You don’t have to do this,” she pled, “you don’t have to admit such things to your children.”

  John moved around his mother. “They’ll hear about it sooner or later; should be me telling them.”

  With Bobbie in the middle, all three kids sat lined up on the couch while John took a seat on the coffee table facing them. Behind the children, Josie stood nervously biting her thumbnail while Gloria continued to shoot contemptuous glances in her direction. How has this become my fault?

  John wiped his fingers across his lips before beginning. His eyes were stained red with impending tears. “Something bad’s happened,” he started.

  “Did someone die?” Jack asked, his voice jumping an octave.

  “It’s nothing like that,” he assured them. “Your daddy has done something he shouldn’t and unfortunately now everyone knows. Soon the kids at school will be talking so I thought it best that y’all hear it from me,” he said, the shame muddying his usually confident voice.

  “Did you tell a lie?” Bobbie asked.

  “Sort of.” Sighing, he rubbed his unshaven face. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to—”

  “Oh, for the love of God!” Gloria interrupted.

  “Momma!” John warned, holding up his hand. “This is my family; would you just let me handle this?”

  With a huff, Gloria turned her back to the drama.

  He started again. “You know Miss Trisha?”

  Beth nodded her head. “Yeah, she’s real perty.”

  “Yes, she is,” John agreed, studying the back of his hand momentarily before continuing. “You see, she and I have sort-of been, I don’t know how to explain…dating.”

  Jack grimaced. “But you can’t date; you’re married to Momma.”

  “That’s right, I am. And that’s what makes what I did so wrong. It was a mistake, and I’m not dating her anymore,” John finished with a shake of his head, his watery eyes making careful contact with each child. “She doesn’t even work for me anymore.”

  “Is that why Momma put you in the time-out?” Beth asked, like she was finally hearing a reason for his exile.

  “Yes,” John admitted.

  Josie’s blood ran cold.

  Gloria added to the tension by pacing, gasping, and shaking her head.

  “You had an affair?” Jack asked.

  Beth looked confused again. “What’s an affair?”

  “It’s when you do things with someone you’re only supposed to do with your husband or wife,” Jack said, the contempt growing in his voice.

  Josie’s anxiety level peaked painfully when she realized, for the first time, how her and John’s selfishness and immaturity was affecting their children. Finally giving in to the emotions she’d been suppressing, she released the tears pushing at the corners of her eyes.

  “That’s bad?” Beth worried.

  Bobbie’s eyes grew wide and his breathing quickened as he started to understand the gravity of the situation. “Are you and Momma gonna get a divorce?” he said, his words catching in his throat.

  “What’s a divorce?” Beth’s voice was shrill.

  “It’s when your parents don’t live together anymore and you have to go visit your daddy on the weekends, so you never get to play with any of your friends anymore, and you get a Step-Momma, and she’s mean,” Bobbie said in one breath.

  The knot in the pit of Josie’s stomach tightened as she resisted the urge to intervene. She wanted to jump in, assure the children that she and John were not splitting up. Only, how could she when John finally appeared to be accepting that their marriage was over? But was this what she really wanted—to break her family up?

  “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry?” Beth whined.

  “Well, I did, Baby, but I hurt your momma pretty bad. Sometimes when you care as much for someone as I do for your momma it’s best to let go, if that’s what she needs, to keep from hurting her any more than I already have.” John glanced woefully at Josie.

  Jack got to his feet, face red, fists balled tight. “She should divorce you. You’re an adulterer and the Bible says that adulterers go to hell,” he blurted out.

  “That’s enough! I will not stand here and allow such disrespect!” Gloria jumped in. “Your father is an honorable man…” She appeared to have more to say but turned away again, wiping her tears with the back of her forefinger.

  Beth threw her arms around her daddy’s neck, exclaiming, “I don’t want another Momma!”

  Jack stomped to his room, slammed the door, and locked it behind him.

  Oh god, this can’t be happening.

  Josie met John’s gaze and they exchanged the pain and regret they both felt, knowing that this really hadn’t gone well. She knew it would be perfectly reasonable for her to blame John for this mess. But assigning guilt seemed trivial when compared to the pain and confusion on her children’s faces. She swallowed her pride once more, deciding that looking forward and putting this right for their sakes must be her first and only priority.

  But how?

  * * * *

  Nothing thus far in Josie’s life could have prepared her to watch John admit to their children he’d had an affair and that his infidelity would probably result in their parents’ divorce. With all three kids sleeping soundly in her king-sized bed, Josie sat alone at the kitchen table staring at the screen of her laptop. The curser was blinking.

  Waiting.

  Her home was dolefully quiet, mourning the loss of innocence caused by the words of betrayal spoken here today. Having lost track of time, Josie didn’t know how many times the screen had gone dark before she’d reached up and touched the mouse pad to bring it back to life.

  When she heard the garage close followed by John coming in through the kitchen door, she straightened, attempting to appear as if she’d been working.

  “You still up?” He stopped on the other side of the table, his hands pushed down into the pockets of his rumpled jeans, a manila folder tucked under his arm. His hair was mussed, face scruffy, and muscles tight with tension under a plain white t-shirt. In another time and place, she thought he would have looked especially sexy.

  Josie said, “I’m painfully behind at work. Did y’all make any progress today?” Taking the envelope from under his arm, he held it up to her before tossing it down on the table. “We scheduled a press conference for Tuesday morning, set up some news interviews, but it doesn’t look good,” he said, wiping his tired unshaven face with his hands. “Plus, the partners at the firm held an emergency meeting that I wasn’t invited to.” His voice, his stance, everything about him cried defeat.

  “You and I both know this isn’t the first time a partner at Tyler and Whitney has come under scrutiny,” Josie reminded him.

  “I know. But it feels like two careers shot to hell in one day.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat. “I just don’t know how things could get so out of
control so fast.”

  The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall, Josie wanted to say, but didn’t. Somehow, looking into John’s eyes, she knew she didn’t have to. Picking up the envelope, she asked, “May I?”

  She scanned quickly down the page and gave him an unimpressed look. “This is the best you and all your advisors could do?”

  “Pathetic, I know,” he admitted, taking the paper back and looking it over, his eyes blankly scanning the words.

  Josie knew it would be perfectly normal for her to revel in the justice of her husband’s fall from grace, but watching him hunched in his chair, defeated, she simply didn’t feel like rejoicing. Didn’t she promise to love, honor, and protect—in sickness—through good times and bad? Somehow she couldn’t remember any clause or fine print that exempted the bad times he just may have deserved.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Naw, I don’t think I could eat if I wanted to.” The corners of his mouth turned up at her feeble attempt to comfort him. “But thanks anyway.”

  They both sat quietly a moment longer before Josie decided that now was as good a time as any to ask a question she’d longed for an answer to. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “The last night on the island, what made you decide to come to me after all those months?”

  John’s dull eyes flickered briefly to life. “I guess I finally realized what I really wanted—what a damn fool I was being.”

  “I see,” Josie said, but was afraid to say any more. John was still under the impression she didn’t remember, but the truth was, little by little, the “events” of that night were coming back to her. The warmth and carefulness of his touch, the familiarity with which they enjoyed each other even though it had been nearly a year since they’d made love.

  Easing out of the chair, he shuffled to the back door. “Well, I best be getting on and let you get back to your work,” he said, and then disappeared into the night.

  Josie rubbed her throbbing temples before touching the screen to life once more. Glancing over at John’s lame excuse for a statement, she suddenly felt a wave of inspiration, and started to type.

  Chapter 15

  Josie moved her sunglasses to the top of her head as she entered the front office of John’s campaign headquarters. She was dressed in a sleek navy blue pantsuit and bright colored blouse, the cuffs protruding loosely from her sleeves, and carrying a manila envelope.

  The phones were ringing incessantly as she waltzed up to the front desk. Two college interns were ignoring the myriad of inquiries coming in regarding Trisha’s press conference the day before. Engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t notice her standing there.

  “Do you think she’ll divorce him?”

  “What I heard. But she’s probably been puttin’ up with it for a while.”

  “Is that why we never see her? I don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “She’s pretty, not like Trisha, but a man with looks like Mr. Bearden…” The intern stopped when she noticed Josie standing there.

  Josie smiled warmly at them. “Is Mr. Bearden in his office?”

  The girls simply nodded.

  “Okay if I just go in?”

  Silence. Then, “Of course,” choked out the girl who had recognized her. She turned to the other. “Vanda, this is Mrs. Bearden.”

  “H-hi, ma’am. I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s mine,” replied Josie, smiling.

  Red-faced and wide-eyed, the interns watched as Josie moved on to John’s office door. “She’s real pretty and seems nice too,” Josie heard one whisper to the other when she was walking away. “Makes you wonder why he’d even waste his time with a bitch like Trisha.”

  * * * *

  Elbows resting on his unusually disorganized desk, his face in his hands, John felt the weight of his decisions pressing down on his shoulders. How had his life come down to this? The end of his career, his marriage, his dream. What happens now? Will the firm take me back? Will Josie file for divorce?

  A knock rattled his office door. “Not now, I’m busy,” he called to whoever thought to disturb brooding. He wasn’t in the mood for any more bad news.

  “John, it’s me,” came Josie’s voice as she edged the door open and stepped in.

  Awkwardly getting to his feet, he pushed back his black mesh ergonomic chair and stood. “Jocelyn, what are you doing here?”

  Josie smiled and held out the envelope for him to take. “I just came to drop this off.”

  John swallowed hard. “What is it?” He didn’t want to take it.

  She waved the envelope. “Come on now, it’s not gonna bite ya.”

  John forced himself to reach out and take the envelope he was sure contained the final chapter of his marriage. Keeping his eyes focused on Josie’s to steel the dread, he eased the papers out.

  He quickly scanned the page, feeling relieved but confused. “What’s this?”

  “It’s for your press conference. I wrote it for you last night,” she said. “You can use it or not; it’s up to you.” She bit her sexy bottom lip before saying, “Well, I have to go. I’m late.”

  “Hold on, I’ll walk you out.” John set Josie’s work down. With his hand to the small of her back, he guided her out of his office and through the reception area. Opening the front door, he allowed her to exit before him. As he and Josie stepped out onto the sidewalk, he tried to ignore the agog faces of his campaign staff as they moved closer to the window for a better view.

  John rubbed a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. “Thanks for stopping by, and for your help. It looks good, what I read so far at least.” He wanted to say something else, to keep her here a little longer, but he couldn’t think of anything.

  “Sure,” Josie said and then looked at him with a question. “Yesterday, Trisha said that you two have been seeing each other for nearly a year?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “And before that?” Josie watched his eyes closely.

  “Never,” John said, definitively, gaze locked with hers. He wanted to say that he was sorry, a fool, but as he searched for the right words, Josie quickly turned away and climbed into the van before he had the chance.

  Back in his office, John slumped in his chair as the growing ball of regret churned in the pit of his stomach. What could he have done or said differently the other night? What was she so desperate to hear? He’d wanted to tell her he loved her but he worried that she wouldn’t believe him—that she didn’t trust him enough to accept he meant it.

  Then she’d come here this morning bearing a gift, helping without being asked. Could it be she still cared, or did she only want to help for the sake of their children? She looked so stunningly professional in her suit. He hoped against reason that Saturday night wasn’t the last time he’d ever touch her.

  Turning his attention back to the speech, he carefully read the message she’d prepared, absorbing the fluidity, articulacy, and directness of her words—her skills as a lawyer, a writer, going unrealized all these years by him. Motherhood was the most important job a woman could hold, he still believed, while regretting that he was too blind, too traditional, to encourage her to do both.

  Andy and Patrick burst through the door. He held up one finger to silence them while he finished the last two lines.

  “Someone said Jocelyn was here.” Andy didn’t wait. “What did she want?”

  “This.” John held up the envelope with the statement on top of it.

  “Divorce papers?”

  “No.” John tossed the speech across his desk for them to read. “It’s for the press conference tomorrow.”

  “Jocelyn wrote this?” Patrick picked up the statement, and taking a seat, he started reading, with Andy leaning over his shoulder.

  When he reached the bottom of the page, Patrick said, “This is good. Damn good.” He stood up and paced while thinking out loud. “It apologizes and accepts
responsibility while subtly insinuating that the affair is no one’s business but yours, and Jocelyn’s of course. I like it.”

  Andy grabbed the papers from Patrick and took a closer look. “Maybe we should’ve had Jocelyn writing your speeches all along.”

  * * * *

  Josie’s heart pounded as she made her way up the hillside cemetery, around low-growing live oaks, and across the thick grass, trying to remember exactly where the Judge had been buried almost nine years ago. She needed someone to talk to, but she’d already received all the advice she could handle from the living and to no avail. So she’d come to consult with the dead.

  When she finally found him she greeted his headstone belligerently, saying, “Hello, Daddy.” Seeing his grave for the first time since the day they’d laid him here, she mocked the writing on his memorial. “Honestly, Daddy, ‘Loving Father, Devoted Husband,’ in what delusional universe would that statement be true? Even in death the charade continues.” She circled his grave boldly. “Don’t try to pretend Momma put that there. We both know she wouldn’t do anything unless you said so, even with you dead.” She kept moving—part of her expected him to pop up any moment and put an end to her disrespect.

  “You’re probably wondering why such an ungrateful daughter finally came to visit her daddy after all this time. John comes, doesn’t he? After all, you loved him more—more than your own flesh and blood. Was it really so bad having me for a daughter?” Remembering the last precious moments of his miserable life, her words ripened with disdain. Choosing to speak his final words of advice to John, he had closed his eyes forever before addressing his only child. Then, long after everyone else had gone, she’d stayed with him, hoping he would open his eyes one more time.

  “Just three simple words, Daddy, that’s all I needed.” Her eyes would have threatened to moisten but she had no more tears as her anger erupted. “You bastard. What was I thinking, coming to you for help?” She balled her hands into fists and mumbled obscenities.