Tree Climbing For Beginners

by Joyia Marie

  Harold sat in the car for a moment, trying to gather his courage. This was it, no more avoiding. Jillian wanted to meet the children so they were all going out for dinner the next night. He hadn’t talked to Helen in a couple of days, but he thought she was in contact with the kids.

  It’ll be fine, he assured himself as he got out and walked into the kitchen. The table was set and he could smell dinner on the stove. Mrs. Gunderson was standing next to the front door with her purse. He wondered if she had a second job because the one day he had come in five minutes late she gave him such a look he mentally promised himself it would never happen again.

  There was no way he could do this without Mrs. Gunderson. She kept the house clean, she cooked, even though he would appreciate something other than German comfort food and the kids liked her. If she left on Helen’s heels, he was screwed and he knew it. He was especially grateful she had taken over the coffee making.

  He still wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, but the pot, he fixed left him jittery all day long. He made coffee at work, rarely, but he had. The coffee at work came in pre-measured packs, but at home all he had was a can of coffee grounds and he had added them until it looked about right. It hadn’t been, he thought with a quiver. Not even close.

  Harold saw Mrs. Gunderson out, then called the kids for dinner. They lock stepped down the stairs their eyes pinned on him. They moved to opposite sides of the table and sat down in perfect unison. Helen’s chair was empty and conspicuous in its emptiness. The twins looked at her chair, then looked at him and he knew the time had come.

  They were silent as they filled their plates from the dishes in the middle of the table. He looked at them, silently, knowing any small talk would be ignored. He tried that the first night and that was a dismal failure. He was out of practice. It was so long since he joined his family at dinner that he didn’t know the rhythms or subjects they usually talked about.

  “Kids,” Harold said after choking down a single bite of his dinner.

  Tonight’s offering of Sauerbraten wasn’t going down easy and the vinegar from the marinade was making his eyes water. Or so he told himself. He didn’t want to have this conversation. How was he going to explain to his kids that he had broken up their home and caused their mother to leave?

  Again he wondered what Helen was playing at, the kids didn’t want him they wanted her. Was she mad enough at him to make her kids unhappy? Obviously or she’d be there, he told himself, but he wondered. Helen was practical, but he never knew her to be vindictive, no matter what the provocation. He wondered if there was something else behind this other than vengeance.

  “Yes, Daddy,” Tonya said coolly. Her meal was half finished, as was Tony’s. They seemed to be enjoying dinner, he thought absently. He wouldn’t mind a break from his tour of Germany and that was another reason he was looking forward to eating out the next night.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your mother,” he said slowly, hoping the right words would come. As much as it tempted him to blame it all on Helen, he knew he couldn’t. Despite the fact she wasn’t the kids wouldn’t hesitate to check his story with her. With the rumors already flying it was sure to get back to the kids.

  He winced when Tonya set her fork down, then focused on him. Tony he noticed kept eating, but Harold was sure he saw a dark eye peeking thought the hair in his direction. He cleared his throat, and then took a sip of his water. He was dying for a drink and promised himself one right after this.

  “You see, kids, sometimes people get married then they discover they don’t want to be married anymore. Even though they have children they love very much they decide to live apart,” he said slowly, tiptoeing around the subject.

  Tonya looked at him for a long moment as if to give him a minute to get to the point before she pounced, “Kelli Carson said she heard her mom telling Mrs. Johnson she saw you in the park one day with a blond woman, kissing her.” After this announcement, Tonya sat back and looked at him.

  Harold’s eyes bugged and he started choking. This couldn’t be true. He and Jillian was so careful. Okay, maybe they got carried away, but that was just what happened to people in love. But they couldn’t have been seen. Could they?

  “Uh…” Harold said impotently.

  “Is that true, Daddy? Were you kissing a woman other than Mom?” Tonya asked, a prosecutor with a hostile witness.

  “Look,” Harold said, seizing the reins of the conversation again. “I don’t know who Mrs. Johnson is or what she thinks she saw. I won’t lie to you though, there is a woman that I care for deeply and I would like you to meet her. We’re going to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “You care for her more than Mom?” Tonya asked with tears in her dark eyes. Tony was looking at him with a matching sorrowful expression.

  Harold’s heart broke. What had he been thinking? How could he do this to his kids? He suddenly wished for a time machine to go back to Sunday night and never have that conversation with Helen. According to what she said the other day, she knew about the affair and was willing to overlook it to keep their home together. Why hadn’t he just left things alone?

  “No, sweetie, not more, just different. I know all this is hard on you both and it involves a whole bunch of adult stuff you shouldn’t even be bothered with but this is what’s going on,” Harold said softly.

  “All I ask is that you give Jillian a chance. She won’t replace your mother, but I’m sure she’ll be a good friend if you give her a chance,” Harold begged, ignoring the looks of doubt the twins were exchanging. He had doubts of his own. How could Jillian parent his kids when she was barely older than they were?

  Harold gave a sigh when the children resumed eating silently. It went better than he thought, but he knew it wasn’t over yet. He noticed the twins exchanging looks that excluded him and he wondered how tomorrow night would go.

  He picked up his fork and forced down his meal. He would need to keep his strength up for the coming events. He sent up a prayer and hoped his feeling of dread were unwarranted. He doubted it. He had the strange feeling this was the quiet before the storm.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Jillian

  Jillian stood in her walk in closet and flipped though her clothes. She had a glass of wine in one hand as she considered and dismissed different outfits. She was stymied and it looked like she might need to go shopping the next day. Nothing she had was suitable for meeting her married lover’s children for the first time.

  Jillian took a large gulp of wine, totally confused by the current events. She just knew Helen would be back home by now, but thus far the wily hausfrau was still missing in action. Her friend at the phone company had tracked down an address that Jillian thought might be promising, but so far, Jillian hadn’t had time to go from there.

  Jillian only saw Helen a couple of times at company functions. Helen struck her as a bit mousy. Jillian was sure that with a careful application of guilt she could do what Harold hadn’t managed to.

  People were easy to manipulate if you knew the right buttons to push. What mother would resist the implication she might be a bad mother? What would be worse than a mother who deserted her children? Helen would be putty in her hands if Jillian could catch up with her for a face to face. The impact wouldn’t be the same over the phone.

  Jillian walked out her closet, resigned to a trip to Wal-mart the next day. There was no sense in putting a lot of money into an outfit she didn’t intend to wear more than once. Her clothes were meant to entice men, rich men, and that wouldn’t do for the kiddies.

  Then again, Harold did have a pre-teen boy so who knew? The girl would probably enjoy seeing how a real woman dressed. Her mother from what Jillian could remember dressed like a slightly younger version of his mother. No wonder Harold was so ripe for the picking.

  She had to admit to some disappointment in Harold. She knew he was weak or she never would have stood a shot, but not as weak as he was proving to be. How could he let Helen get the jump on him in getting out the door
?

  She distinctly remembered discussing Harold packing his bags before he talked to his wife. She shrugged off the thought. Then again, there was no way she could anticipate this? Who would have? Even her mother kept her when her mother split up from her father. In addition, everybody knew finding a new man was easier without a kid in tow.

  Then again, she thought her mother might have been getting child support so maybe that was her mother’s rationale. Jillian wondered absently how her mother was doing. She only spoke to her once since her move. She didn’t need her mother coming down and muddying this pond as she had Houston.

  Jillian finished her glass of wine and set the glass resolutely in the sink. She longed for another glass, but she needed to be at her best looks for this meeting. She tried to book an emergency appointment at the salon, but they were booked solid.

  Funny, but usually Raphael could squeeze her in even at the last minute. Jillian sighed, this was just par for the course as to how things have gone lately. Jillian comforted herself with the fact her natural color was just barely peeking through at the roots. The right hairstyle and no one would ever notice.

  Jillian walked into the bathroom for a shower. The old strong scented soaps were resigned to under the vanity and her original fragrance was back in use. She was glad, that strong stuff made her smell as if she sold more than paper products. She was surprised Helen had never kicked up a fuss. She knew she would have.

  Once she and Harold married, she’d cut his nuts off if he strayed before they got a divorce. She knew once a man strayed that it would be that much easier for him to stray again. She’d be damned if she played one of those oblivious wives, she helped cuckold in the past.

  Then again, she thought with a smirk, an affair would make her divorce settlement that much sweeter. Maybe she’d arrange for Harold to have one when she was done with him. She ran scenarios in her head as she quickly washed up.

  Jillian was out and in bed 15 minutes later. She was exhausted. She had spent all week on the road with nothing to show for it. She wouldn’t even be able to get the money for her mileage. Mrs. Fitzgerald took an inordinate amount of pleasure in telling her that company policy stated the only mileage for sales staff that was reimbursed was that connected to sales.

  Jillian hissed when she pictured the old bat’s smug smile. Jillian was between a rock and a hard place. If she refused to run Mrs. Fitzgerald’s errands, then she could get fired for insubordination. If she kept it up, then she’d go broke using her own money for gas.

  This didn’t even touch the fact she wasn’t making any money if she wasn’t making any sales. There was no time for that while she did her tour of the outlying suburbs of Greater Fort Worth. That second job as a taxi driver was looking more likely every day.

  Jillian pushed the situation out of her mind and concentrated on dinner the next night. She had to convince Harold she was the best possible stepmother for his little brats so Harold would push for a divorce and they could marry.

  Jillian snuggled under the covers, almost used to spending her evenings alone again. Harold played Mr. Mom all week and even after the kiddies went to sleep, he wouldn’t sneak out or let her sneak in. She had to admire that, he was a good dad, which meant he’d be a good father to their eventual child. Good fathers paid generous child support on time.

  Jillian thought about the next night perfecting her performance. She wasn’t sure what a good stepmother acted like and the media didn't help. Stepmothers were always portrayed as child-abusing villainesses. Jillian would be as nice as the brats let her be. She had nothing against them and she didn’t see them co-habitating all the long.

  Helen would come back, she assured herself the thousandth time since Monday. She drifted off to sleep with her new favorite fantasy of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s sorrowful face as security escorted her off the Peterson Paper property. She smiled in her sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Helen

  I woke up Friday bright and early. Funny, even without the kids, I was up early every day that week. Like I told Harold from the salon, lots and lots to do.

  Tuesday evening, I had met with the architect and hammered out the plans for the loft. He was easy to talk to and eager to work. My friend had come with him and his friend and told me why. Seems the architect had a love of racehorses and the betting on them. Unfortunately, the picking of winning mounts was not a gift he possessed.

  He had made an ill-advised bet and now ‘Big Tony’ was looking for him. I stopped asking questions at that point and prayed he was a better architect than he was a gambler. Fortunately, he was. He was at my loft early Wednesday morning before work with the plans. I guess ‘Big Tony’ should look into motivational speaking because he certain motivated the architect to produce.

  I approved the plans and ran to the bank to get the eager gambler his money. I swear there were tears in his eyes when I handed him the cash. He left with the look of a man saved from the gallows and a promise from me to keep his identity private.

  I spent the rest of Wednesday setting up appointments with contractors and even met with a couple of them Wednesday evening. A down economy is as motivating as Big Tony. I worked on edits of my book between contractors and got to bed early Wednesday night.

  Thursday I spent meeting with contractors. I did fit in another call to my kids as I had on Wednesday. Tonya had stopped asking me when I was coming home, but the question floated in the air between us. I was getting sick of Harold and decided to give him until Friday to get his ass in gear before I gave him a call to goose him along.

  Funny, he was a regular Chatty Cathy to me about this on Sunday night, but now he’s as closed mouthed as a priest. Every time I think of the smug look on his face while he told me about his ‘new love’, I want to hunt him down and slap him on GP. I can say I made sure he didn’t have it when I left.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised Harold hasn’t come clean with the twins. I have come to understand that Harold has dual citizenship. As well as being a citizen of the country of Avoidance, he was also a resident of a country called Denial.

  I added that chore to my to do list if he hadn’t. I would see what Tonya had to say and proceed accordingly. His mother called once, but I let the call roll to voice mail. If I wasn’t going to help him out with the kids, I really wasn’t going to help him out with his mommy. As with Tonya, so it is with Gwendolyn, Harold is on his own.

  I was glad it was Friday. The week was action packed but I was ready for a break. I was really ready to see my kids. I would be taking them for an overnight after the soccer game Saturday. I made a note to call Mrs. Gunderson and have her pack them an overnight bag.

  Today should see the end of my running around at least for a while. I think I had a contractor. I had a suite booked at the long-term stay motel and I would be decamping today. The loft with its minimalist look was seriously getting old. The kids wouldn’t appreciate sleeping with mommy on a futon.

  After coffee and washing up, I put on an outfit I had collected from Casa Asshole. The rest was already packed and ready for transport. I was wearing a soft gray linen suit with a red silk blouse. A little upscale for me, but I thought it hit the right note for meeting my divorce attorney.

  I closed the futon for the last time for a long time and put away the linens. A friend of mine with a truck would be delivering it, the cedar chest, and my office furniture to the storage unit later today. Grandma’s painting I would be taking myself to another unit.

  The little I had left from my old loft was in a normal unit and the paintings were stored in a secure, climate-controlled unit. Only I knew what was in there, I took all the paintings in personally, already crated. Any observer would be hard pressed to figure out there was close to five million dollars in artwork tucked away in the non-descript unit.

  I took a last look at ‘Days/Nights’ before wrapping it in brown paper. I had a crate at the unit for it, but this would get it there without detection. Aiden’s response was a welcome change from Har
old’s disinterest.

  I looked at my watch. Up only an hour and already thinking of the man next door. This isn’t including the numerous dreams he made guest appearances in last night and every night since the night we met.

  I allowed myself on a sigh of regret over our aborted kiss before stiffening my resolve yet again. My resolve was getting a real workout. Every time I saw that man, I wanted to climb him like a tree. It was weird feeling like this. I never had this urge with Harold.

  Then again, maybe I knew subconsciously that if I tried to climb Harold’s spindly ass, we both would have ended up on the floor. When he carried me over the threshold on our honeymoon, it was a bit touch and go there for a minute. Let’s just say I was happy when he managed to put me on the bed without dropping me.

  I put the painting near the door and got a refill on my coffee. I didn’t bother with my laptop. I wasn’t expecting anything and if it came, it would wait. I had packed to take just in case I got a free minute. I was deep into the edits for my last book and an idea for a new project popped into my mind.

  My current situation was gold as far as a story line. In addition, I could give my libido free range with my imaginary Aiden even if I couldn’t in real life. I made a note to have my divorce lawyer fast track my divorce if possible. Aiden and I might not be anything but a flash in the pan, but I was ready to find out.

  I walked out and tucked the painting into the trunk of my car. I slid my laptop into the passenger seat and my coffee cup into the holder I have installed. Purists would have a fit about the sacrilege of altering my classic car, but as I did not intend to sell my baby, the priests could kiss my hinny.

  I had just started my car and let the convertible top down when the door to Aiden’s loft popped open. He looked deliciously rumpled and tired, just as I could imagine him looking after a long night of sex. Bad married woman, I chided myself halfheartedly and my libido didn’t pay me a lot of attention. She was still pissed about last night.