by Tia Louise
The color scheme was all white and the floors were bright pine, but I’d already decided I’d add color to the interior. Not immediately, as my heart felt like all the color had been drained away. But everything was ready to go as soon as I was ready to pull myself out of the bed.
It was a battle. It took longer than I cared to admit, but I’d gotten back on my feet, and now we were headed into the holiday season.
My only setback occurred a month after I arrived. Halloween had passed, and I was doing my best to rebuild my client base. Elaine recommended I visit the private school where she worked to leave a card. I hadn’t made it over until the end of the day, and walking from the parking lot, I couldn’t help noticing a well-dressed, well-built, honey-blond male walking near me. I jumped two feet when I realized who it was.
“Patrick!” I breathed as his hazel eyes lit with recognition.
“Hello, Melissa.” That handsome smile crossed his lips, and I felt like an idiot. I should’ve known they were still together.
Just as fast, I grew tense. “Are you alone? Is—”
“I’m alone,” he said. “Had some business in Raleigh, so I figured I’d drop in on my way back. Surprise Elaine.”
“This isn’t on your way back.”
“It can be.”
My lips pressed together. Elaine had been kind enough never to mention what happened in Princeton or the guys at all since my return to Wilmington. At the same time, Brian was ancient history, and she never dated anyone to my knowledge, which was very unusual for my flirtatious friend. Now it all made sense.
“I’m sorry,” I blinked down, studying my tan pumps. “I hadn’t realized you two were still together. Elaine doesn’t talk about it.”
“I know.” We were standing in the parking lot, and he crossed his toned arms over his equally toned chest. “We thought it would be easier if we gave you two some space for now.”
“For now?” I shook my head. “You can be as open as you like. Derek and I are through.”
His lips parted then closed, and I could tell he was trying to decide what to say. “I’d like to be a little more open with you. If you’ll hear me out.”
“Patrick, please…”
“I don’t want to offend you or pick at a fresh wound,” his voice turned gentle, “but if you’re still deciding—”
“I’ve already decided…” Sadness burned in my throat stronger than the anger I normally used to fight it.
Seeing Patrick reminded me too much of being with Derek, of being held in those strong arms, of that deep sense of safety he’d given me. He had been so comforting after my year of nightmares. Of course, I’d fallen in love with him. I was an idiot.
“Derek’s wife died six years ago,” Patrick continued. “He wasn’t the same for a long time. Not until…”
My eyes burned with rapidly forming tears. “Please stop,” I whispered.
“He had no idea, Mel. Neither of us knew what you’d been through.”
“He should’ve told me the truth,” I said. Two tears splashed onto my cheeks when I blinked, and I angrily wiped them away. “He lied to me. That’s all that matters.”
“He’s sorry.”
I spun on my heel and headed back to my car. The last thing I needed was to hear about his regret. Any man who could do what he did, get as close to me as he did, and then lie, hide something that important, was capable of anything. And I’d already been down the road to anything. I wasn’t revisiting the location.
Derek Alexander was a thing of my past, and if I never met another man as long as I lived, I’d be happy.
My beach condo was absolutely perfect for my recovery. Just being in it made me feel peace. It also made me feel lucky, like I was getting another chance.
It was part of what had been envisioned as a planned beach community near Sea Breeze that fell victim to the recession. When the developers went broke, they sold off what was left for cheap, and I happened to be on the market at the exact right moment. It was as if all the negatives in my life had managed to twist out one beautiful positive for me.
Since the location was only partially developed, I was secluded from much of the tourist traffic that regularly invaded the area. Most of my neighbors were full-time residents who’d lucked into their properties as well. We were all bound together by sandy paths and picket fences, and we valued the seclusion of our area. Our dunes were untrodden, and the sea oats and beach scrub formed a nice barrier between us and the high-end resorts nearby.
Sitting on the shore, I inhaled the salty air, tasting it on my tongue. I straightened my shoulders and allowed the warmth of gratitude to tingle through every part of my body. I was alone, but I was content in this new, healing chapter of my life.
Except when Elaine visited. Since I’d bumped into Patrick that day, she’d stopped tip-toeing around their relationship. And my former one.
“Patrick said he does nothing but monitor Sloan now,” she said, removing the ingredients for our dinner from the brown bag she’d brought with her. I was busy opening a bottle of wine. “He’s determined to catch him breaking the law and bring him down.”
“I don’t care, Elaine,” I said in my usual monotone when she got on this subject. “And I’m so tired of having this conversation. Derek and I are through.”
“But he’s still in love with you,” she insisted. “And he wants that bastard to pay.”
“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” I said, pouring us both large globes of red wine. “I’m a little irritated you didn’t tell me you were still dating Patrick. He was in on the lie, too, you know.”
“He didn’t know you were sleeping with Derek,” she said. “You didn’t even tell me that part until after!”
“You couldn’t see anything but each other,” I said taking a sip. “Besides, he knew they were there to spy on us, and he didn’t tell you. How can that not drive you crazy?”
“Mmm… Patrick drives me crazy in other ways.” She winked, taking a sip of her wine.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“And I think you’re secretly in love with Derek.”
“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.” She couldn’t understand because she’d never been hurt like I had. “I won’t be with someone who could lie to me like that. So convincingly.”
“Patrick said he wanted to stay out of it and let you decide what to do about your marriage. He was hoping you’d come to him once it was over—if it was over.”
I shook my head, my voice growing thick. “When the man you love, the man you married, attempts to rape you, then beats you when you try to defend yourself, it makes it impossible to tolerate much from anyone. Ever again.”
“Oh, Mel,” Elaine crossed the kitchen to me, tears in her eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” She pulled me into a hug, and I held her waist. For a moment we were both silent, remembering that horrible night, how it changed everything. Including me.
“I just care about you,” she said, wiping her nose. “And I know Derek’s sorry. He’s such a good guy.”
“Let’s have some dinner,” I said, going to the bag. I pulled out the box of ziti while she began cutting a pepper.
“Patrick wants to relocate,” she said quietly, sliding the ingredients into the waiting sauté pan. “Since their work is primarily online, he’d like to move here.”
My lips pressed together as I filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to boil the pasta. Once it was going, I picked up my glass again and leaned against the counter. “Are you two that serious?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, it’s hard to know when we’re separated. Distance makes everything so emotionally charged. It’s like the first time every time.”
“Sounds like you two are enjoying some hot reunions.”
Elaine blushed then laughed. “It almost makes me want to maintain the distance.”
The water was boiling, and I turned to dump in the ziti. For a few moments, I watched it, poking the dry
noodles with a wooden spoon. My mind drifted to the time I’d had with Derek. Had our intensity all been a product of some feeling of urgency?
He had known the whole time I was married, but he claimed he didn’t know how bad my situation was. Was he afraid I wouldn’t leave Sloan? Did he think I might decide to stay with my husband?
I shook my head. It didn’t matter.
“So the marketing business is booming?” My friend was finished chopping and handed off the raw ingredients to me before hopping up on the counter.
I took her handiwork and pushed it all into the pan, cranking up the heat and stirring rapidly. “It is, and thanks to you, Saint Samuel’s has become one of my most loyal clients.”
“Good. They need the help.” Her little school was trying to grow but struggling against new, free charter options. “Have you heard any more from… him?”
I sighed and turned the heat down to let everything simmer. “Sloan tried giving me trouble over the divorce proceedings, but I faxed those emails to Thomas. He said I’d have my final paperwork by the end of next week.”
“He’s such a prick,” Elaine growled, taking a sip of her wine. “I still can’t believe you didn’t take him for everything he has.”
“I don’t want anything he has,” I said, sipping my own wine. “He’s a bastard fucknut, and I hope I never see him again.”
“A no-nut sphincter taster.”
I snorted and caught my nose with my hand. “A what?!” I cried.
Elaine split into laughter. “I don’t know. It’s something my brother used to say.”
“Come on,” I pulled her off the counter. “Let’s go eat.”
Elaine stayed until after midnight. We enjoyed the spicy ziti and peppers with our red wine and finished it all off with coffee and tiramisu. I asked her to spend the night, but she insisted she had to get up early for a teacher’s meeting the next day. So we hugged each other, and she started back for the mainland.
After she left, I walked down to the shore again—this time using my flashlight. It was a secluded area, and that only increased my risk of getting lost in the dark. But I was careful, and I was learning my way around my new landscape.
At the water’s edge, I sat and reconsidered everything Elaine and Patrick had told me. I thought about Derek losing his wife, and the pain he must have felt to spend six years alone. What about me had brought him out of that isolation? Did he connect to a shared sense of loss? Was I able to help him find his way back from that sadness? Could he help me?
I thought about getting away from Sloan. Once the final divorce papers were in, I’d be free and I could truly recover from the disappointment and ultimately the trauma that had been my married life. After that, I could think about maybe talking to people and perhaps giving certain people second chances. If those people were still interested.
Who knew, perhaps it was possible the road to anywhere could turn into a road to somewhere. For both of us.
Chapter 17 – Finally Over
My mother was visiting the day my divorce papers arrived. We both sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee when the postman rang the bell. He carried a package wrapped in brown paper and a long, legal-sized envelope along with assorted letters and bills. I handed Mom the package to open as I pulled the brown envelope apart. She let out an exclamation of delight, but my face fell. In her hands was a box of cupcakes from Bea’s Fancy Cakes, but in mine were several long, legal-sized sheets. At the very top of the first page, in bold, all-capital letters were the words FINAL DECREE.
Despite everything that had happened, all the pain and humiliation, a sick lump of failure tightened in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and blinked to her frowning eyes. She slowly lowered her happy gift.
“Oh, Mel. How are you doing really?” she asked in her best psychiatrist’s voice.
“I’m relieved, of course,” I exhaled, trying to smile. “But I confess, seeing my name there in black and white followed by DIVORCE in all caps…” I shrugged. “I can’t help remembering how optimistic I was on our wedding day. I thought my life would be so different.”
To her credit, my mother only nodded. Once I’d returned to Wilmington, she’d dropped all suggestions that I try to work things out with Sloan. She immediately switched to supportive mode, and any indications that I might have made a mistake were gone. I assumed she reserved those types of urgings for the pre-divorce discussions, and now that it was over, so were they. Either way, I was thankful. Yet at the same time, I could sense she knew there was more I wasn’t telling her.
“Here,” she said, putting the package on the counter and going to my refrigerator. She opened the door and pulled out a bottle of champagne I’d stuck in the back—in case of celebration. I’d read a quote that said sometimes just having a bottle of champagne in the fridge could be a reason to celebrate. That was two months ago.
“It’s time to open this guy,” she said.
“What?” My brows pulled together in disbelief.
“We’re celebrating. It’s a new chapter in your life.” I watched as she twisted the wire basket off the cork and then popped it.
“Talk about pendulum swings.”
Mom shook her head. “You were very different when you got back home three months ago. I didn’t say anything at the time, but you had a definite look in your eyes.”
I pulled two flutes down from the cabinet and placed them in front of her to fill.
“Was it the look of a crazy person?”
“We don’t use that term in the profession,” she gently scolded as she poured. We waited for the fizz to settle, then she held my glass out. “You looked like you’d been through a long and difficult battle.”
I took the sparkling wine from her. “I had,” I said softly.
“You looked nearly broken,” her voice strained. “It hurt so much to see the remnants of that kind of pain on your face.”
My mom’s eyes were brown, but she had my dark curls. Our eyes met in a warm understanding, and she stepped forward. “I believe you did the right thing,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sorry I ever questioned you.”
For a moment, I relaxed in her healing embrace. She didn’t know the full story; I didn’t want her to know the full story. It was enough that we were here. It was more than enough. My head rested on her shoulder, and I held her waist.
A few minutes passed and I stepped back, giving her a smile. I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
Then she clinked her glass to mine. “Here’s to a better future.”
I smiled and agreed, taking a sip.
Mom stayed through dinner, and we had one of our best visits since I’d married Sloan. It was a cold night, and she pulled on one of my sweaters. I lit the gas log, and we sat close together in front of the fireplace sipping coffee and eating the luscious cinnamon-bun cupcakes.
They were warm and comforting and perfectly timed, considering what else arrived with them. Not only that, they were cupcakes like only Aunt Bea could make—moist and buttery cake with a slightly spicy cinnamon ribbon swirling through the middle. On top was a deliciously crusty buttercrème frosting that was the exact flavor of cinnamon bun icing. We were both swooning from the first bite.
“None of my clients send me gifts like this,” Mom teased, finishing her small confection.
“Isn’t Bea the best?” I agreed, taking another nibble. “She can’t figure out the Internet, but I convinced her I could maintain her account from here. And I still get my seasonal treats.”
Mom placed her hand over mine and rubbed. “I’m glad to hear Baltimore wasn’t all bad.”
I nodded. “There are great people there. Bea was one of the best.”
Aunt Bea might not understand how small the world had become, but she did know how to show kindness from any distance. Her gifts went a long way toward restoring my faith in both humanity and in one’s ability to recover from any setback.
“I need a tree,” I said, taking a sip of
coffee and hoping to transition the conversation away from the past. Christmas was coming, and Mom loved decorating.
It was the perfect detour, and she immediately launched into the different options I might choose. That led to the topic of gifts, so I pulled out my Macbook. We spent the next few hours looking at pin boards and making lists, until she announced it was late.
I walked her out, promising to drive in and spend the night with her the next weekend—we could complete our lists, do some shopping. For a few moments I stood outside in the cold air, listening to the waves crashing far off and watching the taillights of her car fade into the distance.
Slowly I went back inside and put our dishes in the dishwasher. Our champagne flutes were still in front of the fireplace, but I was tired. I walked to my bedroom ready to wash my face and slip between the cool sheets. Halfway there, I heard a noise in the kitchen. A banging as if a window were falling.
“Mom?” I called, swiftly going back down the hall. “Did you forget something?”
The scream was out of my mouth before a thought registered in my brain. Sloan stood in the kitchen doorway, backlit by the yellow lights. “It’s only me, hon.”
I dashed into the living room and ran around the couch, putting as much space between us as possible. Quickly, I scanned my room for anything to use as a weapon. All I saw was a lamp.
“S-Sloan…” I caught my breath, struggling to keep my voice calm, not fearful. Authoritative and not yielding my ground. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s not very a welcoming remark,” he said, with a grin, a wicked glint in his eye. “We’re supposed to show guests that southern hospitality, aren’t we?”
“What do you want?” I reached for the lamp, resting my hand on the neck and waiting.
“Nice place,” he said, surveying my new home. “I see you got your divorce papers today. Not celebrating, I hope.”
Fear stole the air from my lungs as he quickly crossed the room to me. I snatched up the lamp, but he caught my wrist, jerking it and sending the fixture crashing to the floor. I tried to pull my arm away, but he held it fast, turning me so my back was pressed firmly against his chest.