Beautiful Mistake

by Vi Keeland

At first, I’d been concerned that Caine had gotten much sicker, maybe had even gone to the hospital or something. But if he was able to read my texts, why wouldn’t he be able to respond?

  After about an hour of the ninety-minute lecture, I was so distracted, I cut the class early. Caine wouldn’t be happy about it, but that wasn’t my immediate concern. Anxious, I dialed his number before the classroom had even emptied. It rang once and went to voicemail.

  When a cell is turned off, it goes immediately to voicemail. When someone is unable to answer it, it rings a bunch of times before dropping to voicemail. But when it goes to voicemail after one ring, the recipient is hitting ignore. What the hell?

  I left a message. “Caine, it’s Rachel. I’m worried about you. You haven’t responded to my texts and didn’t show up for class. Can you please let me know everything is okay so I don’t start calling emergency rooms like a crazy person?”

  I wanted to drive over to his apartment and check on him, but I had to be at work in an hour, and there wasn’t enough time to get there and back. Tuesday was also the only day I worked alone. I opened for Charlie because he did his grocery shopping and went to visit his wife’s grave every week like clockwork. No way was I going to interrupt that because my boyfriend wasn’t answering my calls.

  Is he even my boyfriend? The entire drive to O’Leary’s, I found myself debating anything and everything to do with Caine. One little hiccup and my mind was a frenzy of paranoid observations. By the time I parked, I’d come full circle. The man wasn’t avoiding me—he simply didn’t feel well. Unfortunately, when I checked my phone, that theory was obliterated.

  Caine: Feeling better. Thank you for covering class.

  That’s it? No damn explanation? The knot I’d had in my stomach all morning wrenched into anger. I deserved more than that. Tossing my phone into my bag, I unlocked the front door at O’Leary’s and sprang into my opening ritual on autopilot. I flicked the lights on, turned the oven on in the back, unloaded the dishwasher, and brought out the first crate of glasses to stock behind the bar before counting out the register. Promptly at twelve, I turned on the open sign. Then I checked my phone again. Nothing.

  The hours dragged by after that. Ava popped in at four—an hour before her shift started—to visit me, and I was ripe for a verbal explosion. She took a seat at the bar. There was just one other patron at the other end, a retired cop friend of Charlie’s who didn’t say much and only required a beer an hour.

  “So you are still alive?” she said. “I figured maybe you’d been fucked to death by the angry professor.”

  Ava took one look at my face and hers fell. “Oh no. What happened? That asshole screwed you over? Is he married, because I’ll seriously go ballistic on his ass.”

  I sighed. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  I then proceeded to verbal vomit on my poor friend, telling her all the details of the last few days. Well, not all the details—the incredible sex parts I kept to myself—but I told her everything that might be relevant.

  “Do you think he got cold feet because you took him to Riley’s? Some men have ridiculous meet the family fears—they think that’s the last step before you drag them down the aisle.”

  “I suppose it could be…although I don’t think that’s it. He never hesitated or showed any concern about going with me, and the first ten minutes or so after we arrived, he was fine.”

  “What happened between the time you arrived and when he said he wasn’t feeling well and bolted?”

  “Nothing, really. I’ve replayed it over and over in my head. We were sitting down in the living room looking at photo albums.”

  I stared into space as I visualized the three of us—me, Riley, and Caine—sitting on the couch. Photos. Pigtails. Mom dying. Benny. It figured something would go wrong at the mere mention of that man. Then it dawned on me. Could Caine possibly be pissed because I’d lied about not having a stepfather? It was so insignificant; I couldn’t imagine that was it.

  “Family photo albums? He bolted because he felt pressure.”

  “But I didn’t pressure him. He had asked to see a picture of me when I was little.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged. “He’s a commitment-phobe.”

  “I really don’t think that’s it.”

  “Well, then maybe he was really sick? Maybe he went into your sister’s bathroom, got a bad case of the shits, and didn’t want to clog the toilet.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Do you really need to describe it like that?”

  Ava shrugged. “Do you want me to justify him running out so you can pretend he doesn’t have commitment issues or not?”

  Honestly, all I wanted was to get rid of this unsettled feeling. If Caine did have commitment issues and a visit to my sister gave him cold feet, I could deal with that. All I needed was honesty.

  Caine

  Fifteen years ago

  This was the fourth stop she’d made to pick flowers on the side of the road on her ride home. Her life sounded like a clusterfuck of bad shit, yet she spotted the beauty in the middle of weeds and tall grass.

  I stayed at least two blocks back, and she hadn’t seemed to notice me at all. Which reminded me, I also needed to have a heart to heart with my little lamb about being aware of her surroundings. Any psychopath could be tailing her.

  Well…

  It had to be a good two miles before she finally pulled into a driveway. The house was actually pretty nice. I’d envisioned a run-down trailer down at the end of a long dirt road, with sheets hung to conceal the windows and heavy brush camouflaging any sign of life—probably three or four rusted-out, non-functional cars on the lawn. But the driveway she pulled into was paved and led to a small but well-maintained Cape Cod-style house. The grass was mowed, open curtains framed the windows, and neighbors were outside nearby, going about their business. The single car in the driveway was a few years old and had one of those Jesus fish symbols on the back. Nothing like I’d expected.

  I watched as the little girl disappeared around the side of the house and came back to the front door without her bike a minute later. Without hesitation, she walked inside.

  I stayed there looking around for a good half hour after that. For the first time, I questioned whether maybe she was making things up. She could’ve had a vivid imagination. The seed of doubt was planted, but my gut told me she wasn’t telling a tall tale. I took one last look at the ordinary house and turned to head back home. At least I wouldn’t have to wait much to find out—so long as she showed with her sister tomorrow.

  I waited six hours. At a little after one in the afternoon, I gave in to the fact that she wasn’t coming this morning. Before I’d followed her home yesterday, I’d had zero doubt something was going on. But now, after seeing an ordinary-looking house in a normal neighborhood, doubt had crept in. Then again, Ted Bundy looked pretty fucking normal, too. I groaned and stood from the back pew where I’d listened to three masses this morning as I watched the door. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew where I was heading.

  Four blocks from her house, I realized I needed gas. Since I also needed to figure out a game plan, I made a pit stop at a full-service station with a mini mart and headed inside to pay the attendant. My hand was on the door handle when, from the corner of my eye, I saw something that caught my attention. Parked on the side of the station was a car that looked damn familiar—the same make and model as the one parked in the little girl’s driveway yesterday.

  Benny is a damn mechanic.

  I walked over and took a look at the back of the car. Sure enough, there was the Jesus fish symbol. Looking over at the mini mart, I saw a two-bay garage attached to it. One of the doors was closed, but the other was open about two feet. The lights were also definitely on.

  I lingered inside the mini mart, pretending to read the back of a bag of chips while the two customers finished paying. When it was just
me and the woman working the register, I took a can of soda and a Snickers bar to the register.

  “Is the auto shop still open? My car has some rattling I’d like to get checked out.”

  She looked up at the clock. “Closed at noon today. But I think Benny’s still inside.”

  My body tensed. “Thanks. Is there an office or something?”

  The cashier waved toward a door at the back. “Go right through that door. He’s probably in one of the bays.”

  My breathing became deeper with each step as I headed into the dim garage. There was a screwdriver sitting on the top of a red tool chest. I picked it up and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans.

  “Hello?” The garage held four cars, but there didn’t appear to be anyone inside.

  A man poked his head out from underneath the hood of one of the cars the next bay over and nearly scared the shit out of me.

  “What can I do you for?”

  I stared at him. I had no plan.

  He pulled a towel from his pocket and started to wipe his hands as he took a step toward me. “We’re closed. I need to be getting home to my girls. There’s a station about a mile north of here, if you got car problems.”

  His girls.

  “You Benny?”

  “I am. Who’s asking?”

  I needed a stick to poke the bear. A light bulb lit in my head. “I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

  Suddenly I had his attention. His entire demeanor changed. He stopped wiping his hands and looked me square in the eyes. “My daughter’s not allowed to have any boy friends.”

  “Why is that?”

  His face contorted with anger. “Because she’s a little slut.”

  We had been standing on either side of a car, but he started to walk around it toward me.

  “You sniffing around my daughter? Let me give you a little advice. You want a nice girl. That one…she’s no good. Fifteen years old and nothing but trouble already.”

  “Keep away from them both.”

  Benny looked momentarily taken aback. He paused his advance toward me. A slow, evil smile spread across his face. It gave me chills. I was staring into the face of a monster.

  “You think you know something? Why don’t you go on and spit it out.”

  “You like little girls. You sneak into the older girl’s room at night and threaten her to keep quiet or you’ll do the same thing to her little sister. Keep away from them both, or I’ll go to the police.”

  He narrowed his eyes, searching, as he seemed to piece together a puzzle. Seeing the full picture for the first time, a sardonic smile grew on his lips. His tone matched the evil of his face.

  “You got something to do with them packing a bag, planning to run away, don’t you?”

  I said nothing.

  He took a step closer. “They won’t be running anywhere after last night. Taught them a lesson, just like I’m going to teach you.” Benny reached into his overalls pocket and pulled out a small remote. Staring at me, he aimed it at the partially open garage door, and it started to come down. I followed his eyes as they locked on a tray full of tools within his reach. Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion.

  He reached for a wrench.

  I pulled the screwdriver from my back pocket.

  I was scared shitless, until he spoke again.

  “Get your own damn pussy.”

  Caine

  “What are you looking at?”

  Murphy rested his head on my lap, his big brown eyes staring up at me. I scratched his favorite spot behind his ears, and he let out a big sigh.

  “Jesus. Your breath stinks, buddy.” At least I thought it was Murphy’s. It was possible it was actually my own.

  I shut my laptop and took off my glasses to rub my eyes. How the fuck was I going to tell her? I’d been cooped up in my apartment for two days, hadn’t showered, barely ate, and felt completely defeated. Rachel must’ve taken the hint that I was blowing her off since she hadn’t texted me since yesterday.

  I realized just how crazy about her I was when I debated never telling her for the hundredth time. It wouldn’t be such a difficult decision if there weren’t so much to lose. And I’d definitely lose her. How could she ever trust me after she found out we’d known each other fifteen years ago? That I’d lied to her for months? That I’d taken something she held so sacred—a priest she trusted—and manipulated her through a screen each and every week.

  If I told her, I was going to lose her. Hell, I wouldn’t trust anyone who pulled that kind of shit.

  But if I didn’t tell her, everything we had and everything to come would be based on even more lies.

  I’d been selfishly trying to justify never telling her. Telling myself I’d be hurting her twice by coming clean. I knew she cared about me. I’d be reopening old wounds I doubted she wanted to revisit. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?

  There was one thing I couldn’t get past—I didn’t want to be another man who let her down. She deserved better than that. Fuck. She deserved someone better than me. I tugged at my hair as I raked my hands through.

  Tell her the truth and lose her—while hurting her in the process.

  Lie to her face and try to move on with that lie always between us.

  Even though I’d wasted two days debating the issue, deep down I knew there was no real fucking choice. I couldn’t keep lying to her.

  The only consolation was that once she hated me, it would be easier for her to move on. At least it would be easier for one of us. And my prolonging things was only being selfish.

  I reached for my phone just as it illuminated. We hadn’t had contact in more than twenty-four hours, so the timing of her text was impeccable.

  Rachel: How about some chicken soup? I could stop over after work tonight.

  I stared at my phone for a while, hesitating. It was one thing to live on death row, but another to have your execution date set. Before I could grow a pair of balls to answer, a second text came in.

  Rachel: I get off work at eight.

  I didn’t want her driving at night while she was angry or upset. It was time I grew some balls.

  Caine: I’ll come to your place about nine.

  After a shower, I decided to take Murphy for a long walk to clear my head and kill some time. We’d made it a block and a half when a thought crossed my mind.

  “What do you say to an afternoon road trip?”

  Murphy wagged his tail, so I took that as a yes. If I stayed cooped up in my apartment anymore, I was going to lose it. I needed to get out and clear my head. Might as well make the day a good one for someone…

  An hour later, we were walking into the main building at Regency Village. I’d called ahead to make sure it was okay to stop by, and the nurse had said she’d let Lydia and Umberto know I was coming. Lydia was waiting in the reception area. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and Murphy.

  She bent to pet him. “He looks just like our Max.”

  “This is Murphy. I figured Umberto might like a visit.”

  “You have no idea. This is going to make his day—probably his year. No matter where his head is, he never forgets that damn dog.” Lydia looked around. “Is Rachel with you?”

  “No, just me. I was in the area so I thought we’d stop by,” I lied.

  “That’s so sweet of you, Professor West.”

  “Call me Caine, please.”

  “Caine it is.” She smiled and nodded as she stood from petting Murphy. “Umberto is taking a nap right now. He should be up soon. Would it be alright if we took a walk? It might seem odd, but I’d love to hold the leash and walk around the property. My husband and I used to take a walk with Max every night after dinner, right before we had our tea and cookies.”

  “Of course.” I offered Lydia the leash and my arm. She took both, and we headed outside for a stroll under the blue skies.

  “So tell me, Caine. Are you married?”

  “No, not married.”

  “Handsome yo
ung man like you with such a sweet dog, women must be falling at your feet.”

  I’d never been the type of person to talk about a woman I was seeing—not even in college when the other guys couldn’t keep their mouths shut. But what the hell.

  “There’s a lady in my life, but I did something stupid and screwed it up.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it? I have more than fifty years of marriage experience. Maybe I can help you fix things.”

  “It’s not something that can be fixed so easily.”

  Lydia was quiet for a long time. “Do you love this lady?”

  I’d been avoiding figuring out the answer to that question. But lying to Lydia was harder than lying to myself for some reason. I nodded.

  “I think I might. I have no idea when it happened, though.”

  She smiled. “That’s how it happens. You just turn around one day and it hits you right in the face as if it’s been there all along and you were too blind to see it. That’s the thing about true love—we never see the beginning or the end.”

  Great. No end in sight. Just what I need to hear before Rachel dumps my ass.

  Lydia must’ve noticed my dejected face. She squeezed my arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s all going to work out. When you’re in love, mistakes can be fixed.”

  “I’m not sure some mistakes are fixable.”

  “Have you told her about whatever it is that you’ve done wrong?”

  I shook my head.

  “We all make mistakes. Life doesn’t come with instructions. Someone who loves you will forgive you for them. But when you hide them or lie about them, they’re no longer mistakes—they’re decisions.”

  “To be honest, I’ve been avoiding her for a few days, knowing that when I come clean, she’s going to get hurt.”

  “Well, unfortunately, the truth does hurt sometimes. Another woman makes my husband happy now after more than fifty years of marriage. It’s not always easy. But in the long run, it’s better to hurt someone with the truth than make them happy with lies. Because she can make the decision to move on with the truth. Lies keep you stuck in place.”