Cutting Through

by Joan Hohl

  “Looking,” Roger quickly added, trying a weak and tentative smile on Jon. “And if I’ve insulted you—”

  “You haven’t,” Jon assured him, his tone now easy, his smile friendly. “Actually, I’m pleased to hear others think the same way about Julia as me.” His smile disappeared. His tone cooled. “Just so long as everyone remembers Julia is my wife. And you might pass that along.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Roger was quick to reply. “Even though I don’t think it’s necessary. Julia has never been anything but pleasant to any one of us.” He shrugged. “Besides, every man in the hospital respects you too much to even think about trying any fooling around.”

  “That’s nice to know,” Jon said, meaning it. “Now, you guys want to quit and leave me all this money? Or do you want to play a little while longer, try to recoup some of your cash?”

  They played for another hour, an hour and a half later than the time Jon knew Julia usually returned from the Equestrian Mothers’ meeting.

  He was still distracted, his mind not fully on the game, but this time his lack of attention worked against him. By the time the others called it quits, he had lost at least three-quarters of the pile of bills in front of him.

  Jon didn’t mind. He knew how little money the interns made and was glad they had won some of it back.

  While paying attention to the sparse traffic as he drove home, Jon mulled over Roger’s remarks about Julia, how she was pretty, nice…hot.

  The other men’s opinion matched his own. Jon thought Julia was not merely pretty, but beautiful…and nice…and hot. She certainly could turn him on, ever since the first time he had seen her in the radiology department. His feelings for her had never changed…even if he had been tempted to accept what Brooke offered.

  He was ashamed of his feelings, of kissing Brooke and yes, enjoying those two kisses. He was ashamed of being so damned tempted to indulge himself with a warm, receptive woman. It had been so long since he had enjoyed that sensuous intimacy with Julia.

  A sigh escaped his throat. He shifted in the seat, his body made tight by a strong surge of need for his wife.

  There was a time when Julia was everything to him, more important than even his career. Had she indicated an unwillingness to move from Philadelphia, he’d have chucked the fabulous opportunity to work with his idol and mentor, Dr. Michaelson. And he would have felt only slight twinges of regret for the decision.

  As the old saying went, those were the days. He and Julia had laughed together, played together, even after the girls were born. They had been fantastic together in bed.

  Lord, the two of them in bed. They had laughed together there, too, and played together. At times they were like kids, hiding under the covers, teasing, tickling. At other times, they were completely abandoned, luxuriating in sensuous pleasures given and received.

  Compared to Julia’s, Brooke’s kisses were merely pleasant. Admittedly arousing, they were without the senses-rattling passion Julia could whip up in him with her hot mouth and hungry body.

  The passion that hadn’t been between them in a very long time.

  He looked at the house to see a dim glow and sighed. A night-light. Julia had gone to bed. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t that late.

  The flick of his remote activated the automatic door, and Jon drove into the garage. The note on the kitchen table was the first thing he noticed on entering the house. Bending over the table, Jon frowned as he read the note.

  Jon, Mother called earlier. She wanted to know if we had plans for a vacation or for the 4th. When I said we didn’t she asked if the girls could go down and stay with her and Dad the first two weeks in July. The girls want to go.

  That was it. Julia hadn’t even signed her name. He could remember when in the smallest note, Julia used to not only sign her name, but draw a tiny heart next to it.

  Well, seems those days are gone forever.

  Grimacing at the thought, and the realization there could be no in-depth discussions with Julia that night, Jon switched off the night-light and unerringly made his way up the stairs in the darkness.

  No Fourth of July celebration. No vacation. Heaving yet another, deeper sigh, he quietly entered the bedroom, and made his way to their private bathroom, softly closing the door before turning on the light. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he made a face of distaste.

  He hadn’t given a thought to the Fourth or a vacation. And he should have. How long, he wondered, had it been since they had taken a family vacation in the mountains? Three, four years? Jon couldn’t exactly recall, but he feared it was four. And, during those years, it had been Julia who had entertained the girls, taken them on day trips and picnics by the lake.

  He had been too busy expanding his practice, honing his expertise, building his career, basking in his accomplishments. And being proud of himself, too proud, and yes, too angry to admit to Julia that he had performed the major part of Emily’s surgery.

  What an ass, you are, Jon told his reflection. Somewhere along the way, in your pursuit of success, you forgot you were a husband and father, as well as a surgeon.

  Jon turned away from the image, tired of looking at himself, unmasked, so to speak.

  He undressed and turned off the light before opening the door and felt his way to the bed. His shin made hard contact with a bedpost and he let out a muttered curse.

  “Jon?” Julia asked, sleepily. She flicked on the bedside lamp.

  “Yeah.” Jon blinked, and focused on her as she sat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, smothering a yawn with her hand.

  “Walked into the bedpost.” Jon was quick to circle to his side of the bed while the light was still on.

  “Oh.” Another yawn. “Are you hurt?” she asked, a little belatedly, Jon thought.

  “A bruise, no more.” He shook his head as he slid beneath the covers. The bed felt cold. Jon was tempted to move closer to the warmth of her, but thought it prudent to refrain, under the current circumstances.

  “Did you win or lose?” There wasn’t a whole lot of interest in her tone.

  “Both,” he answered, a bit shortly.

  “What?” She turned and frowned at him.

  “I won some, then lost some, but wound up a little ahead in the end,” he explained, not covering his mouth as he yawned. “The girls want to visit your folks in July?”

  “You read my note?”

  “Well…yeah.” He frowned back at her.

  She sighed…a rather long-suffering whisper of expelled breath. “If you’d prefer to discuss this in the morning…?” She trailed off, dousing the light.

  Jon counted to ten as she settled back under the covers. “We can discuss it now,” he said adamantly, following her example, sighing as he settled in.

  “Fine.” She was every bit as short as he had been. “As I wrote in the note, Mother called and asked about our plans. I told her we hadn’t made any, for either the Fourth or a vacation. Then she asked if the girls could visit her for two weeks…if they wanted to.” She laughed. “Ha! As if they wouldn’t jump at the chance of visiting their grandparents, and being spoiled rotten in the process, without either one of us along to interfere.”

  Too true, Jon thought, smiling into the darkness. “So what did you tell your mother?”

  “Of course, I told her I would have to talk to you about it before making a decision.”

  Jon couldn’t miss the hint of exasperation in her voice. “Oh, of course.”

  “Well?” Edgy now.

  “Well what?” he retorted, quietly. “You know damn well you’re going to allow them to go.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she replied, her voice oh-so-pleasant. “Do you object?”

  Jon was on the point of snapping “Does it matter?” but thought better of it. What was the use? It could only make things worse between them…if that were possible.

  “No, I don’t object.”

  “Y
ou hadn’t considered something for the Fourth, or going to the mountains…had you?”

  “No,” he admitted. Truth to tell, he hadn’t so much as thought of the Fourth-of-July celebration…never mind a vacation. He likewise admitted to himself that in all honesty, Julia had every right to be impatient with him.

  “Well, then, it shouldn’t matter,” she said, the edge still clinging to her voice. “Should it?”

  “No, it shouldn’t,” Jon said, hating the truth in the admission. “It’ll probably be good for the girls to get away for a while. They haven’t seen your parents since—” He broke off, simply because he didn’t know how long it had been. He hated having to face that truth, as well.

  “Since Mom and Dad were here for Christmas,” Julia refreshed his memory in the sweetest of tones, adding, “The year before last.”

  Oh, sweet Christ, Jon thought, four years since they had vacationed as a family? A year and a half since Emily and Emma had seen their maternal grandparents? Was it really any wonder the distance between him and Julia had turned into a chasm? Maybe it was too late to mend the gap. Maybe, except for the girls, Julia no longer gave a rat’s ass about the fraying state of their marriage.

  “Have you fallen asleep?” Though very soft, Julia’s voice held sharp impatience.

  “No, Julia, I haven’t fallen asleep,” he answered, tired, but uncertain if he’d sleep at all for the rest of the night. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

  “No.” Julia no longer sounded sharp, weary of the discussion. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Julia.” Closing his eyes, Jon pictured the sign on the wall above their bed. Julia had had him hang it there soon after they had moved into the big old house. The phrase on the sign was simple and profound.

  Always Kiss Me Good-Night.

  Jon knew there would be no kiss for him that night. Memory of former good-night kisses hurt. He had dropped the ball by refusing to tell Julia he, not Dr. Michaelson, had performed the surgery to save Emily from a life of paralysis.

  No damned wonder she was little more than lukewarm when they made love. No, Langston, he snarled to himself. They hadn’t made love in a long time. They had sex. The same kind of sex he could have had with Brooke.

  His last thought caused Jon to go still and cold beneath the covers. The same kind of sex he could have had with Brooke and Julia could also have shared with another man. There were several other doctors the nurses seemed to be all moony-eyed over. And he knew firsthand that Julia was not only more than pretty and…hot-looking, she was loaded with sensuality.

  No! The denial exploded inside Jon’s head.

  She wouldn’t. Hadn’t Roger said, and Rob and Josh agreed, that Julia was never more than friendly to everyone at the hospital?

  He had to know. Even if he had to start an argument this late at night. Jon had to know. He had to…

  Julia’s soft, regular breathing filtered through the near panic seizing Jon’s brain.

  He couldn’t wake her from a sound sleep. Despite the deep twisting pain invading his gut, Jon knew he’d be making a big mistake by waking her and demanding to know if she had been unfaithful to him.

  Grimacing at the sudden reflux of his stomach, causing a sour taste of beer to sting the back of his throat, Jon slipped from the bed. Carefully he felt his way to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet where the antacids were kept.

  Chewing the tablets, he decided to wait to confront Julia until the girls left for Florida. He and Julia would be alone in the house. That would be a better time.

  Yes, a much better time, Jon decided, chasing the antacids with a couple sips of water before making his way back to the bed, certain he wouldn’t sleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  A sudden sound startled Laura awake. A crackle of lightning, the rumble of thunder in the distance? Sitting up, she turned to the window, watching, listening for a repeat of the noise, the sound of rain against the pane.

  Nothing.

  A thousand thoughts of what could have awoken her raced through her mind. Had someone broken into the house? Was it one of the kids? Her initial alarm rapidly grew, and she reached out to shake Drew and wake him.

  Beside her the bed was empty.

  Dammit! Where was…Laura’s mind stilled, caught by another sound.

  She laughed with relief as she identified the noise. Their chocolate lab, Cocoa, had jumped down from the low, padded window bench. Laura leaned on her elbow to switch on the bedside lamp, blinking in the sudden brightness. Cocoa needed to go out.

  Laura knew she was right when Cocoa’s wet nose nudged her. The dog’s large head poked over the side of the bed to touch her hand.

  “Okay, okay, I’m getting up,” she muttered, throwing back the cover as Cocoa started dancing in expectation of the biscuit she always received after going out.

  Slipping into her mules, Laura frowned as she glanced first at the empty space beside her, then at the clock. It was after two o’clock in the morning…the third morning that week Drew hadn’t been home in bed before 2:00 a.m.

  At any other time Laura wouldn’t have been aware of what time Drew got home. Busy all day, she had always been a deep sleeper. When she was out for the night, she was totally out. Never before had she heard Cocoa lightly jump from the bench to the carpeted floor. She normally wouldn’t wake up until the dog had touched her with a nudging wet nose.

  That was then. Since finding Megan’s sickening note and key the previous week—the mere thought of the younger woman had Laura gritting her teeth—she had been sleeping in fits and starts. She hadn’t said a word to Drew about the damning key—not yet ready to confront him in her startled state. She’d simply dropped the key back into the pocket of one of his other new suits.

  Laura actually made a hissing sound as she pulled on her robe and followed the dog out of the bedroom door. Damn Drew, she railed. Damn his faithless soul and raging libido straight to hell and the devil.

  At any other time, Laura would have felt guilty about damning her husband, but that was any other time. Now, fed up to her back teeth with his blatant lying and cheating, she wanted to do more than damn him. If she were a man, Laura inwardly raged, she’d beat him up and mop the floor with his worthless body.

  Rather shocked by her own violent thoughts, Laura drew a deep breath to gather some measure of calm, and reached for the back doorknob. Yet just as she was about to turn the knob, it began to turn from the other side and the door was pushed in.

  Cocoa dashed outside, nearly knocking Drew over as he attempted to step inside.

  “What the—” he began.

  Laura turned her back to him. “She had to go out.” Keeping her voice level wasn’t easy.

  “What are you doing up at this hour?”

  Was that the tone of a seriously guilty man…or what? Laura fumed, hardly able to believe he’d actually had the nerve to ask her that stupid question.

  She’d begun to notice his uncertainty around her—his voice, his actions—ever since she had found that key. Although she’d slipped the damning evidence into the pocket of another suit, another new suit, he had been acting very hesitant around her.

  Laura had no idea if Drew had realized the key was in a different suit, and she no longer cared. She’d stopped trying to hide her feelings. And she’d had a headache ever since.

  Oh, yeah, Drew was feeling guilty as hell.

  Good. Laura didn’t bother to turn around. Reaching into the wall cabinet above the sink, she retrieved a bottle of aspirin and a glass. “I already said Cocoa had to go out.” A low whine came from outside the door. “And now she wants to come in.”

  Shaking out two pills, she listened as Drew opened the door for the animal. Swallowing down the pills, she started for the hallway to the stairs, saying over her stiffened shoulder, “And now she wants her treat.”

  “Laura…?” Drew called after her.

  “Good night,” she called back, silently adding, you rotten bastard.


  Guess it was her night to shock herself, Laura thought fatalistically, mounting the stairs. Sighing for what might have been, but never was, and now never would be, she slipped beneath the covers.

  Laura was still pretending to be asleep long after Drew crawled into the bed beside her, and almost immediately began to softly snore.

  Maybe he wasn’t feeling as guilty as she had thought. Either that, or that woman had worn him out.

  She was now wide awake, her mind tormented by visions of Drew having sex with Megan. The mere thought of the woman and Drew writhing on a bed together brought a sour taste to Laura’s throat, and a rolling, queasy sensation to her stomach.

  Silently cursing, while fighting a stinging rush of tears, Laura knew she would have to do something about the situation.

  There were so many factors to consider. Her tired mind rebelled at looking at each and every one. She felt trapped, her mind running in circles, getting nowhere.

  The pills she had swallowed hadn’t eased the pain in her head. Her temples felt as if a vise was pressing in, tighter and tighter.

  She wanted a cigarette. No. She needed a cigarette.

  Since she had quit smoking—before they had moved—she had not smoked in this house. Her new dream house. She had determined she’d never again have to listen to her kids complain about the smell of smoke in the house, in their clothes, in their hair, on Cocoa’s fur, or anything else.

  Since that key day when she had sought solace—a calming influence from smoking—Laura had gone onto the back deck every time she took a cigarette break.

  But it was now going on four in the morning, and it was dark out on the deck. Her head pounded. Stifling a groan, Laura gave in to the craving.

  Carefully slipping off the bed, she stepped into her slippers, grabbed up her robe, and whispered, “Come Cocoa.” The dog had alertly raised her head the second she had left the bed.

  Pattering at her heels, Cocoa followed Laura down the stairs. Scooping up her pack of cigarettes from the end of the countertop, she opened the door. Cocoa brushed by her to run out first, her large head lifted, her ears up, her nose sniffing the early morning air.