She reached for Huck’s leash in the basket by the back door.
“I’m going to take him for a walk,” she said as Huck leapt to his feet eagerly.
“Okay,” Frank said. “Sure.”
She attached the leash to Huck’s collar, then put on a coat and gloves and went outside, still holding her mug of tea. Its warmth was welcome through the fabric of her gloves.
The Sunday paper was still on the front walk. Tomorrow was a school holiday and Frank had planned to take the day off, which meant they were halfway through the long weekend.
As Josie walked around the block, she stared at the houses she passed. Their neighborhood was a pretty one, with wide sidewalks lined by mature trees. Most of the homes were simple, two-story brick ramblers, but residents had added personal touches—wooden decks, curving flower beds, and wide front porches. Basketball hoops stood in more than a few driveways, inviting neighborhood kids to come play after school. Stop signs marked nearly every corner, easing the minds of parents.
What a great place to raise a family. Josie was certain she and Frank had said nearly those exact words to each other the day they’d signed the mortgage papers to buy their house.
As she and Huck turned the corner toward home, Josie passed by a neighbor named Maggie whose children were older—all but one were already in college.
“Good morning!” Maggie called cheerfully as she bent down to pick up her newspaper off the front walk.
“Morning!” Josie said. Instead of turning back to the warmth of her home, Maggie walked toward Josie, even though she was only wearing yoga pants and a thin sweatshirt. Josie’s first thought was that she somehow knew, that word had already traveled through the neighborhood and Maggie was coming to offer her condolences.
“I loved having the girls visit yesterday,” Maggie said. “Tell Frank to drop them off anytime!”
“Oh?” Josie said. She struggled to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. “I was out so I didn’t know . . . When did he bring them?”
“Around four,” Maggie said. “Just for a bit. They were delightful!”
At four o’clock, Josie had been at Karin’s house.
“I’m glad,” Josie said. “Thank you.” She continued on her way.
Why had Frank done it?
Had he met with Dana during that time? Josie felt as though her skin were burning; if she opened her mouth, she would spew fire. But no, she couldn’t believe he would have done that; if Frank wanted to leave her for Dana, she would have sensed it by now. He seemed desperate to fix things between them.
She returned home and unclipped Huck’s leash. Before she could enter the kitchen, Frank approached her in the hallway.
“Where were you yesterday?” she hissed. “When you left the girls with Maggie?”
“I was looking for you!” Frank blurted. “I thought you were out walking somewhere because you didn’t have your car and I was worried.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. That seemed plausible. She hadn’t told him she was going to Karin’s. She exhaled, and her body unclenched.
But, as she would discover later, it was just another lie.
• • •
By lunchtime, Josie knew she needed to get away. Her initial shock was yielding to a deep, crimson fury. If she had to be around Frank much longer, she knew she’d explode. And she wasn’t ready for that confrontation, not yet. She gave Frank curt instructions about where to take the girls that afternoon for the carnival. He listened, then followed her upstairs and watched as she threw things into an overnight bag: a pair of pajamas, clean underwear, a book from her nightstand, a sports bra in case she felt like exercising (but no running shoes; she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to plan out the full outfit), her favorite old frayed-collar sweatshirt.
“Can I ask where you’re going?” Frank said timidly.
“I don’t know. Maybe a hotel,” Josie said, realizing as she said it that that was exactly where she wanted to go. Everyone else had clear ideas about what she should do: Frank wanted her to forgive him; Karin wanted her to leave. Josie knew what her mother—who was in a miserable marriage with Josie’s father—would say: Marriage requires sacrifice, with the implication being that swallowing this episode and moving on with Frank was a sacrifice Josie should make, no matter what the cost to her. Maintaining appearances was the supreme goal in Josie’s family.
Josie needed to be alone, to think, without the sound of everyone else’s voices arguing in her head.
“Are you sure?” Frank asked. “Can we talk first?” She shook her head.
Then she paused.
“Unless there’s something else you need to tell me,” she said.
Frank looked startled. “No,” he said. “I’ve told you everything.”
Frank was standing too close to her; he hadn’t showered yet today and she could smell his body odor. She felt as if she might gag.
She grabbed her bag and ran downstairs. The girls were in front of cartoons now, and Josie swept them into a hug.
“You guys!” she said, making her voice bright. “I have to go away just for a night, but you are going to have so much fun with Daddy! He’s taking you to the Girl Scouts carnival!”
She was prepared for protests, but the mention of the carnival distracted the girls, as she’d hoped it might. They gave her kisses and she promised to call at bedtime and then she ran out the door, feeling the pressure inside her build to an almost unbearable level.
She reversed the car down the driveway, then flung the gearshift into drive. Before she could press on the gas, the front door opened and Frank came running down the walk in his bare feet.
“Wait!” he called, waving. She rolled down her window. If he asked for his phone back she’d run him over.
“Do you want me to go instead?” he asked.
“I want you to have not cheated!” she hissed.
She peeled away, anger making her foot slam down on the gas, her tires giving a squeal.
Frank yelled something else that she couldn’t hear clearly. It might have been “Be careful!”
• • •
Josie made two decisions as she pulled out of the neighborhood and onto a larger traffic artery: One, she would treat herself to a decent hotel, rather than a motel off the highway. And two, she wanted to hear the voice of the woman whom Frank had kissed.
Frank’s phone was still in her purse. She was going to use it to call Dana.
Josie found the Courtyard Marriott that Frank’s parents had stayed in the last time they’d come to visit, and she pulled into the wide, circular drive. A bellman hurried to open the door for her and she thanked him, wondering whether he assumed she was a traveling businesswoman, someone weary of being on the road, someone independent and unencumbered.
But of course, she was still wearing her wedding and engagement rings. She’d removed them only twice, during the last few months of each of her pregnancies, when her fingers swelled painfully. As she approached the reception desk, her thumb fingered the cool metal of the rings, trying to gauge how easily they would slip off.
“Reservation?” the clerk asked.
She shook her head. “Is that a problem?”
The hotel was probably busy during the week, with business travelers coming into Chicago, but today, the leather sofas and oversized chairs clustered in the lobby were empty. An old Carole King song—“You’ve Got a Friend”—played over the speakers. It had always been one of Josie’s favorites.
“Not at all,” the clerk said, tapping away on her computer. “For how many nights?”
“Just one.” Josie could always extend it.
“I can give you a corner room for two twenty-nine,” the woman said. “It’s an upgrade for the price.”
“A corner room sounds great,” Josie said. She, who bought most of her clothes at Old Navy and always put the cheapest gas into her car, would have taken it at twice the cost. She wondered how much Frank had spent on Dana during the course o
f their affair. Had he paid for those killer margaritas? Frank was always picking up the check; Josie liked his generous spirit at times, but it also annoyed her, such as when they went out with his colleague Barton and his pretentious wife, who always waited until Frank had grabbed the check before trying—not very hard—to take it away. Frank had paid the last three times they’d had dinner together, and Josie had told him she wouldn’t agree to another one unless Barton picked up the bill.
“Even if you have to outwait him,” she’d said. “Just go to the bathroom or something.”
Frank had agreed, but Josie had known that if Barton delayed more than a few minutes, Frank wouldn’t be able to control his compulsion. She’d been dreading the idea of another dinner.
Maybe she would never need to go to one now.
Dana could go instead, she thought. She’d intended it to be a sarcastic, throwaway notion. But she felt as if something hard had rammed her in the stomach.
“May I have a credit card?” the clerk asked.
Josie slid her Visa across the divider, and a moment later, the clerk returned it along with two keys in a little paper folder. “The tenth floor,” she said, smiling as she indicated the room number written on the folder. “Enjoy your stay.”
“I will,” Josie said, smiling back. Surely something in her eyes or her face had changed during the past twenty-four hours, Josie thought. Evidence of what was happening must be written on her in some way. But neither the clerk nor Maggie had seemed to notice anything amiss.
Maybe, though, Maggie had tucked away a few details in her subconscious that would only emerge down the line if she learned Josie and Frank were divorcing. Weeks or months from now, Maggie might think back to the cold morning when Josie had been out walking Huck, and suddenly remember with remarkable clarity how surprised Josie had been to learn Frank had dropped off the girls.
Josie stepped onto the glass-walled elevator, realizing she hadn’t been alone in a hotel in at least ten years. It rose swiftly, making Josie’s stomach drop. The girls would have loved it. Izzy probably would have asked to ride up and down a dozen times.
She missed her daughters, and she hated Frank more for that.
The doors opened with the sound of a chime, and Josie pulled her wheeled overnight bag behind her as she walked down the hallway, staring at the numbers on the doors she passed.
She found her room and slipped her key into the slot, then pushed through the doorway. She stood in the deep quiet, taking in a long, slow breath. The room was pristine. It contained thick carpeting, a bed with fluffy white linens, a desk and straight-backed chair, and twin nightstands in blond wood with matching lamps. Atop the desk rested a phone, a complimentary bottle of water, and a small notepad with a pen placed diagonally on top.
Coming here had been the right decision. Josie needed the distracting clutter and chaos of her life to be stripped away in order to do what she had to next.
She tucked her suitcase in the closet and shut the door, then slipped off her shoes and placed them by the foot of the bed. She removed Frank’s iPhone from her purse, then sat down at the desk. She found Dana’s phone number in Frank’s contact information, under her real name. As if he had nothing to hide.
Josie tapped the screen to dial the number, then quickly hung up. She didn’t want to call from Frank’s phone. If he’d managed to tell Dana they’d been discovered and that Josie had his phone, Dana would know it was Josie calling. And Josie wanted the element of surprise on her side.
Even as she reached for the hotel phone, Josie marveled at her ability to try to outmaneuver her husband at a time like this. If someone had asked her about her capacity for subterfuge a few weeks ago, she would have said that she was an open book.
She thought about the stories she’d heard of mothers who exhibited superhuman strength when their children were in danger—like a mom who’d lifted the back end of a car when her toddler was trapped beneath its wheel. Perhaps now, in the middle of the biggest crisis of her life, Josie was finally learning what she was truly capable of.
Frank never would have believed this side of her existed. He’d become a stranger to her, in some ways, this man whom Josie could have sworn she had pegged. But perhaps they’d both shielded parts of themselves from the other.
Josie dialed Dana’s number again. She was aware her posture was rigid and her abs were clenched. Despite her lack of nourishment, the anger glowing within her gave her strength and a purity of purpose.
The phone rang a second time.
“Hello?”
It was a woman’s voice, lower and more gravelly than Josie would have expected, especially given Dana’s slight stature.
“This is Frank’s wife,” Josie began. She hadn’t planned what she was going to say, but as soon as she uttered the words, she knew they were the right ones.
Silence. She could hear Dana’s quick inhalation, though. Dana hadn’t hung up.
“How long have you been having an affair with my husband?” Josie asked.
Dana gasped. Josie felt a surge of satisfaction. Some of the power she’d lost during the weeks when she’d been foolishly unaware of the affair shifted back into her hands.
Then Dana whispered, “Hang on—please just hang on a second . . .” She sounded scared.
Josie could hear a rustle of movement, then a door closing. She wondered whether Frank had found Dana’s deep, almost androgynous voice sexy.
“I’m here,” Dana said. Her tone was a bit louder, but still relatively hushed.
Her husband—Ron—must be nearby, Josie thought. Perhaps he was watching TV on the couch, thinking his biggest worry was whether the Bulls made their next basket. If he was anything like Frank, he probably hadn’t even noticed Dana had left the room, because he was so engrossed in the game. Did he think he had a happy marriage, too?
Josie felt a surge of pity for Dana’s hapless husband. He and Josie were on the same side now.
“How many times did you sleep with my husband?” Josie demanded.
“I didn’t—we just . . . No, I didn’t sleep with him,” Dana protested.
“How many times?” Josie repeated. Her voice was steely and unwavering. “I’ve got all of your emails. Maybe I should forward them to your husband?”
“No, no,” Dana said. It sounded as if she had begun to cry. “Oh my God, please don’t.”
She, Josie, who shied away from confrontation, and who never thought of a comeback quickly enough when someone was rude to her, somehow knew exactly what to say.
“How many times?” Josie repeated. “Last chance.”
Dana took in a long, shuddering breath, then continued. “I only saw him three times.”
Three times. Not twice, as Frank had sworn.
Josie fell back into the chair, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling as if she’d been punched.
She’d wanted to know this information. She’d used a threat to extract it from Dana. She’d thought she’d been prepared for the worst, that she could handle whatever she learned. But each newly exposed lie seemed to tear away another strip of the protective, numbing layer around her body.
He must not have talked to Dana since Josie’s discovery, Josie realized. Whatever he was doing yesterday when he dropped the girls at Maggie’s, at least he wasn’t meeting her. Because otherwise, they would have corroborated their stories. Dana would have insisted they’d met just twice.
“But we didn’t sleep together,” Dana said. “It didn’t go that far.”
So that meshed. But what else had Frank lied about?
Josie’s mind spun back to exactly what Frank had said. It was only kissing. Dana contended they hadn’t slept together.
But there was a pretty big gray area between those two assertions.
“Hello?” Dana said.
“Hold on,” Josie snapped.
She didn’t have much time. Dana could hang up at any second and refuse to speak to her. And Frank would be going back to work on Tuesday. Josie couldn’t kee
p his phone much longer; he needed it for his job. Once he had it back and he talked to Dana, they’d be able to compare notes and conspire on a story, one that minimized what they’d done. Josie might never know the truth.
She had already made the choice to dive off this cliff. She had to use this time to find out whatever she could.
She stood up and paced the room.
“Frank said it was more than three times,” Josie said.
It was a gamble; if she was wrong, Dana would know how little information Josie actually had. But Josie’s instincts told her to take it. There were a lot of open nights during a seven-week period.
Dana’s voice broke. “It wasn’t . . . It was five. Okay. We got together five times. I’m sorry, I forgot . . .”
Her words ripped away another swath of padding, leaving Josie feeling raw and exposed. But she managed to press on, to keep talking. Her brain stayed clear and fiery even as her body reeled from the blows it was taking.
“You expect me to believe you just forgot?” Josie asked.
Dana was silent.
“Are you still married?” Josie asked.
“Yes,” Dana whispered.
“Good luck with that.” Scorn rippled through Josie’s tone. “I have a feeling your husband is going to find out about everything.”
She ended the call and slammed down the phone.
Five times, she thought. Five.
She wanted to curl up on the bed and sob like a child. It hurts, she thought. Had anything ever hurt her this much before?
She wanted to punch Frank, to hit him as hard as she could. To make him feel the same sort of agony that was tearing through her body. How could you? she thought. How could you do this to me?
In her wallet was a little piece of paper containing the number of the divorce lawyer. The lawyer, a woman, would be a shark if Karin had recommended her. Maybe Josie would phone her.
But she needed to make a different call first.
As she walked toward Frank’s iPhone to pick it up off the desk, it began to buzz.
The Ever After Page 5