Coming Unglued

by Rebeca Seitz

  Truth lay in that thought. Enough truth to pull her mind from the ghetto of self-hatred.

  God. Truth lay there.

  True love lay there. Not some hyped-up conversation with pseudo-sharing. But intimacy. Knowing and being known. That truth rang in her soul. To the depth of her marrow, her being recognized the rightness of the thought.

  And in that thought lay freedom.

  Could it be so simple? Could she know and not try?

  “Darin?” Her voice, so small, trembling, stopped his prayers. She met his eyes, looked into their depths, and stepped to the edge of a very high cliff. “I need to tell you something. And I wish,” she sniffed, “I didn’t. I wish we could walk out of here and pretend we never came in.”

  He rubbed her hands, face open to whatever message she would share.

  “Over there,” she tilted her head to the damning picture, “is a picture of Lorena and her husband.”

  Darin waited, not taking his eyes from hers.

  “I know that because I know her husband.”

  Darin’s hands stopped moving.

  “His name is Harrison Hawkings.”

  Darin straightened, his body going rigid. Face hardening into lines that aged him by decades.

  But when you step up to a cliff, it’s not so you can back down. There’s only one reason to hang your toes over the ledge.

  “I know this because he’s the man I was seeing.”

  And with that her freefall began.

  Twenty-One

  Kendra stood in her studio, shorts and T-shirt spattered with paint, getting her breath. The phone rang. Again.

  She checked the caller ID. Ignored it.

  Again.

  As she would keep doing until the little screen reflected back to her the only number she cared to see. Desperately cared to see.

  Darin. His eyes, full of a pain she’d inflicted with her actions and admission, were burned into her memory. He hadn’t spoken the entire way back to Stars Hill yesterday. No amount of pleading, of explaining, of begging, had broken his silence. He’d offered only two words: “All right.”

  That’s all he’d said in Lorena’s office. Oh, he’d made excuses to Lorena about needing to leave, an urgent matter to attend to. And Lorena had let it go, albeit with a dozen quizzical looks cast in Kendra’s direction.

  But he hadn’t spoken to Kendra past those two words. “All right.”

  The canvas before her vibrated with the intensity of color it held. This safe place for emotions that scared her with their depth served as therapist.

  Obviously Darin had told Clay. Who must have told Tandy. Who would have told the sisters. Which explained the relentless ringing of the telephone.

  She removed the canvas and picked up another. They were all probably talking about her right now, this very second. Shaking their heads in disappointment, pooling their thoughts to determine a course of action. Taking turns dialing her number.

  Pretty soon she fully expected a knock at her door. Which also would go unanswered unless it was the knock of the only person with whom she wanted to speak.

  Dipping her paintbrush into a violet circle, she closed her eyes and let the frustration pour out through the art.

  Freedom through confession. Was it Tolstoy who lamented his inability to put principles into practice? Right now she could show him the safety of keeping principles ensconced in ink on a page. In practice the principle of confession only wreaked havoc with daily life. And not just hers. She lay the violet brush down and picked up a thicker one. Dipped it in crimson.

  No doubt the sisters’ lives were in turmoil as well. She’d lied, and now they knew it. Nothing to do but admit that as well.

  Liar.

  Adulterer.

  The accusations came fast and strong, tormenting with their accuracy. Yet not finding a home in the depth of her being. Their vile purpose lay eradicated by the cleansing, protective shield of forgiveness.

  Confession wreaked havoc, yes, but it also brought a balm of peace and healing. At least a certain kind of peace. Not one that would allow her to ignore the agony of Darin’s face or give up the pursuit of his forgiveness.

  She picked up the phone and hit redial.

  “You’ve reached the voicemail of Darin Spenser …”

  Kendra dabbed color onto the canvas, running out of steam with each successive canvas. When Darin’s greeting ended, she said, “Hi, Darin. It’s Kendra again. I know I have no right to … well … to anything, but please call me.”

  She disconnected the call and considered the painting before her. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. Just another headache.

  Calling Darin didn’t get her what she wanted either.

  Go over there? Did she have the courage for that? What if he slammed the door in her face? He’d be right to, but she couldn’t see kind, sweet Darin slamming a door in anybody’s face.

  Okay, maybe that of his ex-wife.

  Whom Kendra no doubt reminded him of right now.

  So maybe going over there wasn’t the best option.

  What, then? What could be done to make this right? To make him look at her with those kind eyes, make him want to pray for her, with her, again. Make him care about her?

  She picked up the phone. Enough moping alone. Enough trying to figure it out yourself, Kendra. Haven’t you learned anything from this? Letting others know might be a good thing.

  Dialing Tandy’s number, she waited two rings until Tandy answered.

  “I’m calling a scrapping night.”

  “About time. We’re all going nuts. Are you okay? Why won’t you talk to any of us? What happened?”

  “It’s … complicated.”

  “Of course it’s complicated, Kendra. It’s life.”

  Kendra smiled for the first time in two days. “You mean it’s my life.”

  “Your life, my life, Joy’s life, Meg’s life—they’re all complicated. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t be living; we’d be existing. Now tell me what happened.”

  “You know, I’d rather do this only once. I’ll see you tonight. Seven?”

  Tandy sighed. “Yeah, seven. I’ll call the others.”

  “Thanks, T.”

  “Uh-huh. You can thank me by telling me what’s going on. Clay’s worried sick about Darin.”

  “Why? Has he talked to Darin?” Her heartbeat kicked up at the possibility of getting news.

  “Are you kidding me? He’s practically moved in with him. Been over there for two days, hasn’t been to the diner, I’m desperately trying to help out and keep things running while Clay sticks by Darin’s side, but we’re going to need to order food soon, and I have no idea how to do that.”

  “Has he said anything about how Darin’s doing? What he’s thinking?”

  “These are guys. I’m lucky to hear what they had for dinner.”

  “Call him. Ask him questions. Find out if Darin …” What, forgives you? Loves you? Wants you back? Don’t kid yourself.

  “Find out if he’s okay.”

  “Kendra, his best friend has holed up in his apartment for two days and is showing no signs of leaving anytime soon.

  I think it’s safe to say Darin is not okay. What happened with you two?”

  “Too much to go into now. Call the sisters. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Kendra hung up before Tandy could hear the tears in her voice. At least Darin had a friend to get him through this. He didn’t need to be alone. Thank God for Clay.

  And for the sisters. They’d help her figure this out. How many times had she listened to their problems over Momma’s old scrapping table, offering up solutions and defenses for their crazy choices? They’d know what to do.

  * * *

  FOUR HOURS LATER Kendra bumped down the gravel drive to Daddy and Momma’s house. Meg’s van, Joy’s Lexus, and Tandy’s Beamer sat like sentinels to the side of the porch. She parked beside them, took a deep breath, and got out of the RAV4. Please, God, let them know what to do. The old porch
stairs creaked beneath her weight as she hurried up them. Please, please.

  She pushed through the heavy front door and went in search of the three women in the world who always had her back no matter what stupidity she exhibited. She found them in the kitchen, huddled over a batch of brownies.

  “Hey, y’all. I hope you made at least three hours’ worth.”

  “Momma’s recipe was for two hours. I doubled it.” Tandy cut her a square and offered it. “Ready to scrap?”

  “Is a sheep ready for shearing?”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not going to be that bad.” Meg pulled her along to the stairs. “Besides, everything looks better with chocolate and scrapping.”

  “Amen to that.” Joy brought up the rear, toting the tray of brownies.

  They trudged up the stairs to the scrapping studio. Instantly Kendra’s heart lifted. No matter how much damage she’d done, this room reminded her that life went on.

  “Okay, Ken,” Tandy started, “you called the scrap night. Spill it.”

  And she did. She told them about meeting Harrison at the jazz club in Nashville, how it started off as just fun conversation and progressed to something more. How she excused it because it wasn’t physical, then cut off contact when it got physical. How he came back into her life and they set boundaries. How she hadn’t heard from him since the accident. Hadn’t even thought of him for a while until she sat down in that chair in Lorena’s office.

  Meg dropped her brownie. “He’s married to Lorena?”

  Kendra nodded, reliving the misery of that moment.

  “‘Of all the gin joints in all the world …’” Meg quoted.

  “Hey, are you graduating to movie quotes now?” Tandy stuffed a piece of chocolate in her mouth.

  “Variety is the spice of life,” Meg countered.

  “So let me get this straight.” Joy’s eyes were serious on Kendra. “You befriended a married man, spent time alone with this married man, enjoyed conversations with him that—let’s be honest—he should have been having with his wife. And he just dropped off the face of the earth?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not buying it.”

  “That’s what happened.” Kendra chewed brownie, feeling better now that the sisters were on the case.

  Joy shook her head. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That means you lied to us the first time we asked if you were seeing someone other than Darin. And you’re still lying. You expect us to believe Harrison just disappeared from your life?” She snapped her fingers. “Poof, like that?”

  “I never understood why, either, Joy. But that’s the truth.”

  “Um, I may have a little light to shed here.” Tandy raised her hand. “He came to see you in the hospital.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Tandy, I was out of it a lot in the hospital, but I’d remember if Harrison had come to visit.”

  “That’s just it. You were out when he came. I was in the room.”

  “What?” Kendra threw her brownie back on the plate. “And you didn’t tell me? What’d he say?”

  “He told me not to tell you.”

  Kendra planted her hands on her hips. “Why?”

  “Does it matter? He was trying to do the stand-up thing and end it.”

  “But you should have told me.”

  “What good would it have done? He said his good-byes that day. Your calling him up to prolong the good-bye or say it yourself wouldn’t have accomplished anything other than keeping you in touch with him.”

  “That wasn’t your call to make.”

  “Fine, get mad at me. But I only did what he asked me to do, and it was my call not to ignore that.”

  Kendra picked the brownie back up and chomped on it, fuming. Harrison had been to her hospital room? No wonder he didn’t return her calls. He got his closure, his final good-bye. She was left wondering what she’d done to drive him away, whether the idea of her disfigurement rendered her unworthy of him.

  And, all the while, it hadn’t had anything to do with her.

  “Okay,” Joy ran a glue runner down a photo, “now we know why it ended. For whatever reason,” she shot a look at Kendra, “ending it was good.”

  Kendra had to agree. If Harrison hadn’t ended it that day, who’s to say where they might have ended up? How far down that slippery slope they would have slid? Another kiss? Something more?

  “Sorry, T.”

  Tandy walked over to Kendra and slung an arm around her. “No worries.”

  “I’m confused,” Meg said.

  “That’s news.” Kendra grinned.

  “Ha ha, very funny. I thought you said you told Darin about Harrison.”

  “Not quite. I told him I’d been seeing another man and that it had ended. I didn’t give him names, and I didn’t tell him the man was married.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t see a reason for it. Remember, Darin’s first wife left him for another man. I thought if I shared that Harrison was married, it would only hurt Darin more.”

  “And make you run the risk of losing him,” Joy said pointedly.

  “Yeah, that, too.”

  “Wow, finding out that way. That must have been tough.” Tandy shook her head.

  “It was. For both of us.” Kendra ached all over again at the memory.

  “And he hasn’t talked to you since?”

  “No. I’ve called him over and over. Left umpteen messages, but nothing.”

  “Clay said he’s hurting and trying to figure things out.”

  “You talked to Clay?”

  “I called him after you and I hung up. He’s a little mad at you right now.”

  “Darin or Clay?”

  “Both.”

  Kendra slumped on her stool. “What am I going to do?” She turned plaintive eyes to her sisters.

  “Well, you’re not going to give up; that’s the first thing,” Joy said.

  “What we need is a plan.” Tandy went to Momma’s old desk and got a piece of paper and a pen.

  For once Kendra thanked God for Tandy’s insane commitment to planning. “Okay. Where do we start?”

  “First, we figure out why he’s mad.”

  “Duh,” Meg said. “She cheated on him with a married man. I’d say he’s mad about that.”

  “Yeah, but why? Because he didn’t know and feels duped? Because he feels like he’s reliving his past? Because he feels dumb for not suspecting? What exactly does Kendra need to apologize for?”

  “I think it’s because he feels like I’m his first wife all over again.”

  “Okay,” Tandy scribbled on the page. “So you’ve got to show him how you’re different from her. How this situation is different than his first marriage.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?”

  “You already have, sort of.” Meg cropped a picture. “You didn’t leave him for the other guy, and you’re trying to reconcile. His ex didn’t do either of those things, did she?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good, then that’s a start.”

  “But I’ve already done those things, and he’s still not talking to me.”

  “Wait, wait, we’re just getting started here.” Tandy nibbled her pencil.

  Kendra took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

  “What else is he mad about?”

  “You mean there has to be more?”

  “There doesn’t have to be, but there probably is,” Tandy guessed. “For him to still be talking about it two days later, I’ll bet there’s more.”

  “He could be wondering if she’s lied about anything else,” Meg offered, positioning the picture on her layout.

  “Hey! I did not lie about anything else.”

  “I’m not saying you did. I’m saying he might wonder if you did. Shoot, he might even be questioning his ability to know if anyone is telling the
truth. I know I would be.”

  “Ouch?”

  “Well, goodness, Kendra, think about it. The man’s first wife cheats on him, and he doesn’t know until she tells him. Then you do close to the same thing, and he doesn’t know until you tell him.”

  “He knew before she told him.”

  “He did?” Joy looked up from her photos.

  “He said he did. He just didn’t say anything for a while because he didn’t want it to be true.”

  “You think he knew about you and Harrison before you told him?”

  ”He said he knew there was someone else. I’m almost certain, though, that he didn’t know Harrison was married at that time.”

  “Okay, so we’re back to him feeling duped.”

  Kendra nodded, and Tandy made a note on the paper.

  “What we need here, then, is a plan for reminding him you’re (a) not his ex,” Tandy ticked off the points on her fingers, “and (b) not deceiving him anymore.”

  “How do I do that? I mean, both those things are true, but how do I make him see that?”

  “Assuming, of course, that he wants to see it.” Joy inked up a sponge.

  “Again, two days of talking about it makes me think he’s still invested in this relationship.” Tandy laid her pencil down and picked up a photo.

  “Gosh, I hope so.” Kendra tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. Could Darin be done with her? Finished? Sick of the whole situation?

  “Kendra, quit worrying.” Tandy put photos on top of each other in groupings.

  “Get out of my head.”

  “I would if I could, but you’re sitting over there brooding when we should be planning your comeback.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Okay, first you’re going to need to grovel.”

  “Groveling. Check.”

  “And then beg.”

  “Begging I can do.”

  “And then plead.”

  “Pleading. Will do.”

  “Wow, you are serious about him.” Meg slid a finished layout in a page protector. “The sassy, satisfied Kendra Sinclair is going to grovel, beg, and plead?” She raised her eyebrows. “Wish I could be a fly on the wall for that.”