He waved and she slammed the car door, making a run for the front porch. Maybe, just maybe, her new running shoes could still be saved.
Chapter 10
After grabbing a quick shower and stuffing her running shoes with newspaper to keep their shape while they dried, Marcy settled on the couch in a T-shirt, no bra, and a pair of cotton gym shorts she'd borrowed from Katie's laundry basket. The lack of the bra made her feel liberated. It was amazing how little things could make you happy after you'd survived plummeting off a bridge into icy water and wrapping your face around a tree.
Marcy tried Phoebe's cell phone and when she got only her voice mail, she left a third message. "Phebes, it's Marcy. I'm worried about you. Would you call me, please?"
Then she called Jake. In a rare moment of sisterly love, Katie was playing a board game with Ben on her bedroom floor. Marcy knew it wouldn't last long, so if she wanted a moment of privacy, she'd have to grab it now.
"Hello."
She smiled at the sound of Jake's voice on the other end of the phone line and it delighted her that she could feel this way about him again, after all these years. "Hey," she said. "How was your day?"
"Good. Even better now that you've called. Just about makes my day perfect."
It was almost like they were dating again. Marcy knew it sounded silly, considering how long they had been married, but she was enjoying it. It was nice to be pursued, even if it was by the man she had been sleeping with for the last fifteen years.
"My day was good, too." She straightened the shade on the lamp beside the couch. "Except that I got caught in the rain on my run. I think I would have ruined my new shoes except that this paramedic who actually worked on me at the scene of my accident gave me a lift home."
"This a male somebody?"
"As a matter of fact it was, Mr. Nosy." She tucked her bare feet beneath her and reached for her water bottle. "But you're safe. He was cute, but not my type. A little young for me."
"It's going to take me a while to get used to the idea of all these men hitting on my wife," he teased.
She laughed. "So did you get a chance to crunch those numbers for me? I know I should have done it myself, but my head is still flying in a million different directions. I was afraid I would make a mistake somewhere, and when you're talking this kind of money—"
"You don't want any mistakes," he finished for her. "Hang on a second. I brought the paperwork home with me. I've got your copy of the contract, too. Marv says it looks good."
For the next half an hour, Marcy and Jake talked about the restaurant. She wanted to borrow enough money to buy the property and get it off the ground, but no more than she absolutely had to. Jake had done a good job with the numbers, and she liked what she heard.
"This is do-able," she said, almost surprised by her conclusion.
"It is. I know you can make it work, Marcy."
She pressed her lips together, her chest suddenly tight with emotion. Jake didn't know what it meant to her to have his support. "You mean that, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I wouldn't say so if it wasn't what I really thought." He paused. "We're talking about my life, too, Marcy. At least I hope we are. And the kids'."
"I told you. I'm not touching their college money, no matter what." A sound coming from the direction of the back porch startled her, and she got up off the couch. "That's weird," she said.
"What?"
She had left the drapes open on the glass French doors, but standing in the light of the family room, she could barely see onto the screened porch. The storm was moving east to dissipate over the ocean and the sky was no longer illuminated with streaks of lightning. It was pitch black out.
"I just thought I heard something outside." She walked up to the French doors, seeing herself in the reflection. Nervously, she checked the lock. It was set.
"Probably just the wind, branches kicking up against the siding," Jake said, unconcerned. "I need to get out there and trim those azalea bushes before they take over the back yard."
"Yeah, probably just the azaleas." Marcy pressed her hand to the glass door, squinting. She needed to get someone to look at the security lights. But she could see well enough to tell that no one was there. She glanced at the fireplace along the same wall. It was gas now, but it had once been wood burning. Maybe a branch or something had fallen into the chimney. There was a cap on top, but it had blown loose before in a storm just like this one.
"You want to drop by tomorrow and pick up this packet with your proposal for the bank?" Jake asked. "You can get the contract, too."
She pulled the drapes closed across the doors. "You think I should do this if the bank gives the okay?"
"I think you should do it, Marcy. There aren't many people who get a second chance at life. You'd better use it."
Marcy returned to the couch. "It's just so scary. It's so much money that it doesn't seem real."
"Yeah, but done right, this kind of restaurant does great in this town. You invest in a little advertising, run some fun specials like you were talking about the other night, and people will be driving over from other towns. Summer traffic on Route One be damned."
"You really think so?"
A sound at the front door made Marcy bolt off the couch. "What the heck now?" she muttered as she turned around to look through the front foyer to the door.
"What is it?" Jake asked. Now he did sound concerned.
"Probably just something else brushing against the house." Marcy walked slowly around the couch, her gaze fixed on the white, paneled front door. She thought she had locked it, but she had been in such a hurry when she'd come in from running. She'd been wet and hadn't wanted to drip puddles on the floor.
"You want me to come over?" Jake asked.
"No. No, we're fine." She gave a little laugh as she stepped into the foyer, the tile cool on her bare feet. "I'm just rechecking the door. I seemed to get spooked so easily these days. You know me. I was never like that before."
She reached out to be sure the deadbolt was thrown, and just as she did, the doorknob turned. Marcy involuntarily made a sound as she jumped back.
"Marcy! "Jake called in her ear.
The door opened and Phoebe stepped in, soaking wet.
"It's just Phoebe." Marcy pressed her hand to her pounding heart. "Phoebe's here, so I'll go. Talk to you tomorrow."
Marcy hung up the phone. "Look at you," she chastised, still trying to catch her breath from her scare. "You're soaked."
"I know. It's really raining hard out there. But I got us something to eat. Chinese and frozen yogurt." Phoebe held up two damp brown paper bags. The aroma of hot Szechwan chicken and steamed rice rose from one of the bags.
Marcy took them from Phoebe. "We ate earlier."
"So eat a little more." She smacked Marcy on her rump as she passed her, headed up the stairs. "Let me change and I'll meet you in the kitchen." She ran up the steps calling down. "Chopsticks are in the drawer next to the wooden spoons."
Marcy carried the bags of food into the kitchen. This was always the way it was with Phoebe. A big blowup, she'd take off, and then eventually she would show up again after a few hours, a few days, sometimes even a few weeks. When they were juniors in college, Phoebe had disappeared for three months. Marcy and their parents never heard a word from her until she called collect from Guadalajara saying she needed to have money and a plane ticket wired to her so she could get home.
Marcy flipped the overhead light on in the kitchen and dropped the bag of Chinese food on the counter. She pulled two pints of frozen yogurt from the other bag and stuck them in the freezer. By the time she had unloaded the clean dishes from the dishwasher and put them away, Phoebe had appeared in shorts and one of Marcy's new T-shirts, her hair wrapped up in a turban on her head. Marcy hadn't even taken the price tags off the shirt, but she didn't say anything. At least she knew Phoebe wasn't in Mexico.
"Beer?" Phoebe asked.
"Nah."
Phoebe opened the
refrigerator and pulled out two bottles. "Come on, it will hit the spot on a hot, humid summer night. It's light beer, for cryin' out loud."
Marcy laughed. "Oh, all right. Just one." She grabbed the basket of paper plates off the counter and carried them to the kitchen table.
Phoebe took the chair across from her and began to dig out the little boxes from the brown paper bag. She pulled a plate from the basket. "You're having some, aren't you?"
Marcy twisted the cap off her beer and took a sip. Phoebe was right; it did hit the spot. "You go ahead. I think I'm saving myself for the Cherry Garcia frozen yogurt calling my name from the freezer."
Phoebe dumped half the box of rice onto her plate and then piled the chicken and Chinese vegetables on top. Marcy was still fascinated that her sister could eat so much and stay thin. Like their mother had always said, different metabolism.
Marcy watched Phoebe eat a couple mouthfuls and wash it down with the beer. "Listen, Phebes, about the other night—"
"Say no more." Phoebe held up her chopsticks. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. It was silly of me to get all upset about you wanting to open a restaurant. I should be happy for you." She stuck a piece of chicken in her mouth. "I am happy for you."
"Phoebe, it was insensitive of me. After all you've been going through—"
"I don't want to hear it—you just took me by surprise is all," she said with her mouth full, getting up out of her chair. "End of discussion. You want another beer?"
"No." Marcy took a sip from the brown bottle in her hand, still more than half full.
"So tell me about your place." Phoebe slipped back into her chair with another bottle of beer in her hand. "You're thinking a French Bistro? That's such a great idea. We don't have anything like that around here."
Marcy and Phoebe sat up until late talking about the restaurant. Ben and Katie said good night and went to bed, and the sisters talked for another hour. Finally, Marcy gave in.
"I have to go to bed, Phebes," she said, beginning to collect the beer bottles to place in Ben's recycling container in the broom closet. "I'm beat."
"I'm right behind you. Long day, but I got a job and a lead on a one-bedroom apartment."
"That's wonderful!" Marcy backed out of the closet, genuinely thrilled for her sister. "Where?"
"The job is an assistant manager's position at The Volcano. You know, that trendy place in Rehoboth."
Marcy nodded. "And the apartment?"
"Over some business." She gave a wave. "It's nothing great, but it will work until I get my feet back on the ground."
"Of course it will." Marcy was so excited by the idea of getting her house back, her life back, that she could barely keep from doing a dance across the kitchen floor.
"I'll be upstairs in a minute." Phoebe began to gather her paper plate and utensils and the littering of little white boxes across the kitchen table. "I'm just going to clean up and take the trash out to the dumpster. You know how Chinese can stink up the kitchen by morning."
"All right." Marcy paused in the doorway. "So I'll see you in the morning?"
"You bet." Phoebe grinned and leaned over to remove the lid from the trash can.
Upstairs, Marcy checked on Ben and Katie. They were both asleep. She went into her bathroom and brushed her teeth. Only then did she realize she'd forgotten her glass of ice water she liked to keep beside her bed at night to sip if she got thirsty.
Marcy went back downstairs. The lights were out in the kitchen, but the hall light was still on. She wasn't sure if Phoebe was still up or not, but as she passed the powder room, she heard a sound. She halted at the door.
It sounded like her sister was throwing up. She hesitated, then called out. "Phebes?" She rapped on the door lightly with her knuckles. "You okay?" She heard the toilet flush.
"I'm fine," Phoebe called cheerfully. The faucet in the sink came on.
Marcy stared at the closed door. She knew what she had heard. "You sure?"
"Yeah." Phoebe walked out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth with a hand towel. "You were smart not to have the Chinese. I think I must have accidentally ordered the hot Szechwan dog instead of the chicken." She headed for the stairs. "'Night."
"Good night," Marcy called after her.
In the kitchen, she filled a glass with ice and waited as the automatic dispenser poured cold water in a stream into the glass. Phoebe had acted strangely tonight. Even stranger than she usually did after they had had a fight. Manic almost.
Marcy flipped off the kitchen light and padded barefoot down the hall. Remembering the sounds she had heard on the back porch earlier, she decided to leave the hall light on. Climbing the stairs, she wondered if she was just being overly sensitive with Phoebe. After all, the two of them had been through hundreds of battles, and whenever her sister needed something from her, like now, she did come back with her arms full of gifts and just the right words. And honestly, did it matter? What was important was that Phoebe had landed a job and would be out of Marcy's house soon.
Maybe then she'd be ready to talk to Jake about moving back in.
* * *
The following Friday night, Marcy stood in the front foyer with Jake. He was waiting for Ben and Katie to grab sweatshirts. They were going out to a movie with their Dad, and Marcy had insisted they go back upstairs for something warm. The air-conditioning was always turned up too high in the theaters in the summer.
"You sure you don't want to come with us?" Jake asked, sliding his arm casually around her waist.
His touch made her feel good. Sexy, not just physically, but in her head. "Nah, you guys go have fun. Since it looks like this loan for the restaurant really is going to go through, I need to present the bank with our personal financial records. Tonight I plan to balance our checkbook and tally the money market and savings accounts." She gave him a playful push on his shoulder. "Have you looked at our checkbook lately? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a CPA and your checking account hasn't been balanced since Thanksgiving?"
He grinned, almost boyishly. "I am ashamed. I guess while you were in the hospital, it just wasn't a priority." He rested his other hand on her waist and faced her. "You were my priority, Marcy. Fat, skinny, scarred, or stunningly beautiful."
He reached out to caress her cheek, and she laid her hand over his. "It's nice to hear you say that."
"I mean it," he whispered, his dark eyes searching hers.
She slid his hand to her lips and kissed it. "Phoebe is moving out in the next couple of days. Once she's gone, I..." She swallowed the lump in her throat, and with it, her fear. "I think we should talk about you moving back in."
"I can be packed in an hour." His tone was light, teasing, but he got his point across. He wanted to come back to her bed.
"Now I'm not talking about the way we were," she said. "I think we could probably both use some couples counseling, but—"
"But we're not ready to give up on our marriage yet," he finished for her.
Smiling, she shook her head, and he lowered his mouth to hers.
"Mom!" Ben shrieked as Jake brushed his lips against Marcy's. "Katie's teasing me. She says she's going to hide my telescoping fire escape ladder again!"
Ben bounded down the stairs, and Marcy pulled out of Jake's arms. She felt as if she and Jake needed to take this slowly, and the kids were already confused. She didn't want to make things worse.
"Tattletale!" Katie accused her brother, chasing after him.
Marcy couldn't resist a smile. At thirteen, her daughter was so mature in so many ways; the responsibility she was taking with her baby-sitting job, starting her period, her interest in boys beyond sticking her tongue out at them. But in some ways, Katie was still just a little girl, and Marcy intended to savor these last fragments of her daughter's childhood.
"Katie," Marcy called up the stairs as Ben hit the bottom step and hurled himself into his father's arms.
"Dad!"
"What have I said about tormenting your little brother?"
Marcy asked patiently.
"You said 'don't'." Katie offered a nearly perfect teenage smirk. "But it's just so easy."
Ben stuck his tongue out at his sister as Jake lowered his feet to the ground. Katie stuck her tongue out at him.
"Enough already, you two," Jake said and pointed to the door. "Get your stuff and get in the car if we're going. The movie starts at seven-thirty, but we need to get into line to get our tickets."
"Bye, Mom." Ben bounced out the door, dragging his gray sweatshirt behind him. "See you in the morning."
"Later, Mom."
Jake caught the front door with his hand as Katie disappeared out the door carrying her own and her brother's overnight bags. "You sure you want to stay home alone tonight?"
"Phoebe is supposed to be by. Apparently she really did get the job and the apartment. She called earlier and asked me if I had any boxes to pack her stuff."
"I can come by sometime this weekend and haul the boxes out of here, if she wants."
"That's nice of you." Marcy ran her palm over his chest. "But I'm afraid to make the offer. I don't want to do anything to delay this move." She brushed her hair back over the crown of her head. "I know she was really great to you and the kids while I was sick, but it's time she went back to leading her own life."
"I know. You're right." Jake leaned on the doorknob. "I don't know what's going on with her, anyway. She's been acting pretty strangely."
"You think so, too?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's my imagination or maybe she's just pissed that we took the bank card back and told her she needed to start supporting herself again."
"You're probably right. She—"
"Dad! You coming?" Ben hollered from outside. "We're not going to get the tickets if we don't hurry!"
Jake looked at Marcy again.
"It's all right," she said. "Go. We can talk later."
"We'll meet you at the ballpark in the morning. Ben plays at nine-thirty. Enjoy your evening." He leaned to offer a good-bye kiss, and she accepted.
His kiss made her warm to the tips of her bare toes. "See you later."
As Marcy walked into the family room, she heard Jake back out of the driveway and checked her watch. She had a good five hours to herself before bedtime; even with Phoebe stopping by, she could get a lot accomplished. Passing through the room, she picked up Ben's discarded handheld video game, an empty glass, and a women's fashion and health magazine Phoebe or Katie had left on the coffee table. She dropped the game in the basket at the edge of the couch and, balancing the glass, turned the pages of the magazine to close it so she could add it to the magazine rack. As she flipped the pages, a heading caught her eyes.
She'll Never Tell Page 19