Jillian's Promise

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  “Hannah,” I began, smiling. “You look—”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know. I look old-fashioned. Mr. Foster wouldn’t allow me to wear my bikini in the hot tub. Can you believe it? He said it was inappropriate for this type of family environment.” She put air quotes around the word inappropriate.

  I hid a smile, grateful Keith cared enough about Matt and Drew to insist Hannah dressed modestly.

  “Where did you find the bathing suit?” I asked.

  Drew answered my question. “Dad bought it for her when we went to the store for hamburgers to grill on the barbecue tonight.”

  “He also bought ice cream and caramel sauce for you,” Matt added.

  I traced a pattern through the water, touched Keith remembered my weakness for caramel sauce. “That was nice of him. And I think your bathing suit is nice, too, Hannah.”

  “I do, too,” Matt agreed.

  Hannah scoffed. “Yeah, maybe if I was an old lady. Like thirty or something. No offense, Ms. Jillian.”

  “Oh, of course not.” I smiled, remembering that like Hannah, I, too, had once believed youth was something I controlled.

  The back door opened, and Keith strode across the deck, his gaze focused straight ahead and his jaw tightly clenched.

  “Thank you for connecting the hot tub,” I offered.

  Refusing to look at me, he gestured behind him. “Your date is here.”

  “My date?” I looked up, shocked to see Bryan standing at the kitchen window in his tuxedo. “Oh, no! What time is it?” Glancing at the clock on my phone, I panicked, realizing Bryan was here to take me to the gala.

  I raced into the house, flustered. Bryan frowned at the sight of me in jeans and a T-shirt. I flew past him, down the hall toward my bedroom. “I’ll be ready in a minute. Grab something to drink and I’ll be right out.”

  “And what exactly am I supposed to drink, Jillian? All you have in your refrigerator these days is Dr. Pepper.”

  “Sorry,” I said, knowing it was true.

  I closed my bedroom door. Taking care not to ruin the updo Bianca had created, I quickly changed into the black and silver evening gown I’d found at the consignment store. Bryan had been hurt I’d declined his offer to buy me a dress from Mrs. McMahan’s, but I didn’t feel right accepting such an expensive gift.

  I threw on my makeup and slipped into a pair of impractical spaghetti strap stilettos borrowed from Hannah. Hopefully, I wouldn’t trip and break my neck in the heels. Hannah had insisted the stilettos completed the look, but now I questioned the wisdom in taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old.

  When I looked in the full-length mirror, however, I was pleased by my transformation. I pressed a fingertip to my lip where Keith had kissed me. Would Bryan be able to tell something had happened? Should I just get it over with and confess right now? No, that would only ruin all the hard work we’d done for the gala. For now, I’d put the kiss out of my mind and focus on the evening.

  “Jillian?” Bryan called my name from the other side of the bedroom door.

  I cast a longing look at my pajama bottoms on the bathroom counter, wishing I could stay home for burgers and ice cream with my family. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and watched Bryan’s jaw hit the floor.

  My mother always told me the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but in that instant, I knew she’d been wrong. Judging by Bryan’s awestruck expression, an elegant evening gown with uncomfortable shoes was much more effective than a lasagna.

  “Jillian,” he stammered. “You look amazing. I don’t know what to say.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He kissed me on the cheek, and we walked down the hall where Matt, Drew, and Hannah stood in the kitchen, their wet bathing suits dripping water on the tile floor. All three kids voiced their approval, especially Hannah who was ecstatic to see me wearing the stilettos.

  “We should go so we’re not late,” Bryan said.

  I glanced through the window to the garage apartment, wondering if Keith was okay. Ashamed, I realized I wanted him to see me dressed up like this. Wanted to feel his admiring gaze on me. Wanted him to storm into the kitchen and demand I not leave.

  It was a ridiculous and selfish desire, but that’s how I felt.

  “Jillian, are you ready?” Bryan asked.

  “Yes.” I forced a smile. “Hannah, you can stay as long as Mr. Foster is here, but—”

  “We know the rules.” Matt placed an arm around Hannah’s waist in a way that only made me more apprehensive.

  “Good night, kids,” Bryan called, heading toward the door.

  I told Hannah and the boys good-bye then followed Bryan outside where Keith was rummaging through his truck. My stomach churned at the desperate way he yanked his clothes from his rucksack and discarded them on the seat.

  “Keith?” I called.

  He immediately stopped what he was doing and glared at me. “What, Jillian?”

  The disdain in his voice was thick, and I swallowed hard. “Bryan and I are leaving for the night. I left money on the counter for pizza—”

  “I don’t need your money.”

  Desperation marred his eyes, and in that moment, I knew he was looking for a drink.

  “Do you want me to call Dr. Jacobs?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

  “No. If I need the doc, I can call him myself.”

  I swallowed back my fear. Of course, Keith was capable of calling Dr. Jacobs if he wanted. I was just afraid he didn’t want to.

  Chapter 24

  Lyla

  “Mommy so pretty.” Avery sat on Lyla’s bed.

  Lyla twirled around, showing off the sleek evening gown she’d borrowed from her neighbor. “Wait until Ms. Justine does my hair and makeup, then I’ll look like a true princess.”

  The phone rang and Ronnie’s picture flashed on the screen. “Daddy!” Avery lunged for the phone before Lyla could stop her. Although Ronnie had sent Avery a bouquet of balloons three times larger than Hank’s, this was the first time he’d called since Lyla sent the e-mail breaking up with him.

  “Mommy going ball with Coach Hank,” Avery blurted out. “She pretty.”

  For once, Lyla hoped Ronnie hadn’t been able to decipher what Avery said. Of course he had, and the line between Avery’s eyes deepened as she listened to her father’s response. Looking up at Lyla, Avery nodded and said “okay” several times before finally handing over the phone.

  Lyla took the phone from her daughter. “Hello—”

  “Did I hear her correctly? You’re going on a date with her gymnastics coach?”

  Lyla tightened her grip on the phone, rattled by the tightness in Ronnie’s voice. She should hang up before he ruined her night. “I assume you received my e-mail.”

  He scoffed. “You told me there wasn’t anyone else. Now I have to hear from my own daughter that you’re dating one of her teachers?”

  Lyla placed a gentle hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go play with your Barbies while I talk to Daddy.”

  Avery ran off, and Lyla closed the bedroom door. “This is none of your business, Ronnie. I don’t mind you calling to talk to Avery, but—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone else?” His voice was filled with so much sadness, Lyla almost felt sorry for him.

  “Hank is a friend.”

  “I’m going to break it off with my wife. As soon as the election is over, I’ll file for divorce. We can be married by—”

  Something inside Lyla snapped. “I’ve heard it before and I’m no longer interested. Stay with her or break up with her. I don’t care.”

  “What about Avery?”

  “I told you. You can see her any time you want, but—”

  “Not you,” he said.

  “No. You and I are over. I’ve been spending a lot of time in prayer, and—”

  “Prayer is good,” he agreed. “As a Christian man myself, I completely believe in prayer.”

&nb
sp; Lyla rolled her eyes. Had he ever read the Bible? Maybe he simply misunderstood the meaning of the word adultery.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but Romans 3:23 says, ‘All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.’ Nobody is perfect, Lyla. Not even Christians.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try to align our will with God’s.”

  “So, you think having me in your life is no longer part of God’s plan . . . now that you’ve become a Christian?”

  Lyla didn’t know how exactly to answer that question. Had she become a Christian? In addition to praying, she’d started reading her Bible and watching YouTube videos about becoming a new person in Christ. But was she worthy enough to call herself a Christian?

  Putting aside her trepidation, she lifted her chin and spoke clearly. “All I know, Ronnie, is I want to change. I don’t want to continue living like this, and that means stepping away from you.”

  *

  A little later, Justine arrived to help Lyla with her hair and makeup. Avery entertained Madison on the floor, showing the baby her Barbie doll collection. When the doorbell rang, Avery ran down the hall and peeked out the window. “Coach Hank! Coach Hank!”

  “Okay, let him in and tell him I’ll be out in a minute,” Lyla hollered from the bedroom.

  The front door creaked open, and Avery greeted Coach Hank enthusiastically. Lyla gave Justine an apologetic smile. “She’s a little wound up. Hopefully, she’ll settle down for you once I leave.”

  “She’s fine,” Justine said. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

  “Nervous.”

  “Don’t be. You’re going to have so much fun, and you look absolutely stunning.”

  Lyla studied herself in the mirror and smiled. “Thank you for your help and the dress.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Justine bent down to scoop up the baby from her Bumbo seat. “I’ve always loved that dress, and it looks amazing on you.”

  The two women exchanged a smile before walking down the hall to the living room where Avery was practicing her headstand. Hank, dressed in a freshly pressed black suit, held a bouquet of yellow roses in one hand and Avery’s foot in his other.

  Lyla had never seen Hank wear anything but his gym clothes, and the sight of him all dressed up made her insides tingle. She placed a hand on her tummy, even more nervous now.

  When Hank saw her, his entire face lit up. “Whoa.”

  Lyla blushed. “Hi Hank.”

  “Lyla, you look . . .” He stopped speaking and just stared.

  Avery jumped out of her headstand and thrust her hands into the air like an Olympic gymnast. “Fabulous!”

  Hank smiled sheepishly. “Yes, she does look fabulous. That’s the exact word I was looking for.”

  A warm sensation spread through Lyla. “Thank you, Hank. You look very handsome yourself.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled at the baby and introduced himself to Justine before offering Lyla the roses. “I hope you like yellow flowers. My sister said they’re a symbol of friendship.”

  Lyla breathed in their fragrant scent. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”

  “Avery and I will put them in water.” Justine reached over to take the bouquet. “Now, you two go on and have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Bye, Mom. Bye, Coach Hank.”

  They said good-bye, and Hank walked Lyla to the car where he opened the passenger side door for her. “I noticed the For Sale sign in your yard. You’re not leaving the island, are you?”

  She smiled sadly, sick over selling, but knowing that was her best option for independence. “Where we move will depend on the sale of the house, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to stay on the island.”

  Once they were on the road and headed to the gala, Hank complimented Lyla again. “You really do look beautiful.”

  “You do, too. I mean . . . you look handsome. You clean up very nicely.” Lyla laughed nervously and tried not to feel embarrassed receiving and giving this much attention to another man. For years, Ronnie had been the only man in her life. Dating, or whatever she and Hank were doing tonight, would be an adjustment.

  On the drive, Lyla asked Hank about his sister and the rest of his family. Unlike Lyla, Hank had been raised with a loving mother and father. He’d had a regular Norman Rockwell upbringing as opposed to her life with a single, drug-addicted mother.

  Instead of being jealous, Lyla found herself comforted by Hank’s description of life in Michigan before moving to Texas. He talked about summer vacations spent on the lake and winter break skiing at Crystal Mountain.

  “What brought you all the way down to Texas?” she asked.

  “My family. My sister and parents were living in Galveston, and when the gym became available on Rose Island, I moved down here and bought it.”

  “That must’ve taken quite the leap of faith to move and buy a business.”

  He pulled to the stoplight and smiled. “Leaps of faith are good for the soul.”

  Lyla returned his smile. The light turned green, but instead of driving toward the harbor, he continued on the road that led to the west side of the island where Ronnie had his vacation home.

  Lyla adjusted her seatbelt so it wouldn’t wrinkle her dress. “I think you missed the turn. The Carson Mansion is by the harbor.”

  Hank shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you? The mansion was the original location, but they sent out an e-mail saying the venue had been changed to the Governor’s Villa.”

  A sickening feeling twisted through Lyla. Was this some kind of cruel joke? She shivered as a frigid chill gripped her.

  “Are you cold?” Hank reached for the knobs on the dashboard to adjust the temperature.

  “No, I’m fine.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but every single muscle in her body stiffened.

  Hank returned his hands to the steering wheel. “I’ve driven out here a few times and always wondered what the inside of the house was like. Now we’ll see it firsthand.”

  Lyla cast a quick glance at him, noting his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Why was he nervous? Did he know about Ronnie?

  She wanted to believe Hank wasn’t playing games, but how could she not fear the worse? Should she feign a headache and insist he turn around and take her home?

  She said very little as they drove past all the beautiful houses on the west side of the island, most of them empty as they were second homes or rental properties.

  When Ronnie’s Tuscan-style villa came into view, Lyla sucked in a sharp breath. She’d seen pictures of his home in Town and Country magazine, but she’d underestimated its lavishness.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hank joined the long line of cars waiting to park.

  Unable to speak, Lyla nodded. The enormous stone house sat in the middle of a vineyard with breathtaking views of the ocean. Soft garden lights illuminated the dozen ornamental pear trees that lined the driveway leading up to the house.

  Hank began describing the history of the villa and its impressive architecture, but Lyla couldn’t listen as she was so unnerved. Would Ronnie be standing at the front door greeting everyone? Would he confront her in Hank’s presence?

  Hank left the car with the valet and gently placed a hand on the small of Lyla’s back to escort her up the stairs and into the house. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” he said, as if believing her anxiety was due to the opulence.

  They entered the grand ballroom where a country western band played Alan Jackson’s song “Who’s Cheatin’ Who.”

  The scene was magnificent, but Lyla couldn’t enjoy it. This was the home Ronnie shared with his real wife while on the island. Was he here? Was she?

  “I’ll be right back,” Hank said.

  “Where are you going?”

  He leaned toward her to speak over the music. “I thought I’d get us a drink.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Lyla smoothed down her dress in an attempt to stay calm while she waited for Ha
nk’s return. Regardless of her relationship with Ronnie, she had every right to be here. Besides, she couldn’t live in fear any more.

  There’d been a time in her life when she’d enjoyed elegant events like this. Enjoyed putting herself in exciting situations and meeting new people. Ever since becoming a mistress and a mother, she’d lost her desire for new experiences.

  Her phone dinged with a text, and grateful for something to do, she checked the message.

  “You are the most beautiful woman here.”

  Her blood froze.

  Ronnie.

  Frantic, she scanned the ballroom. Where was he? Watching through a security camera? Help me, Lord.

  Being surrounded by happy couples, laughing and talking, turned Lyla’s fear to anger. She had just as much right as everyone else to enjoy herself tonight, didn’t she?

  Yes. Don’t give him the power to destroy your evening or your happiness.

  Turning off her phone, she shoved it in her purse, only to panic at the thought of Justine not being able to call if there was a problem with Avery. Immediately, she reached back into her purse, grabbed her phone, and turned it back on to discover there was a new message from Ronnie.

  “Take the elevator to the third floor. I’ll meet you there.”

  Bile burned her throat. She looked up to see Hank, striding toward her with two glasses of wine. He smiled, and Lyla breathed a little sigh of relief. Surely, Ronnie would stop bothering her once Hank arrived.

  Her phone beeped again. “Take that bozo’s wine and meet me upstairs. Now!”

  Chills ran up the back of her neck. He was watching her, and she hated the influence he had over her. Refusing to be bullied, she shut off her phone and stashed in it her purse. If Justine needed something, she could call Hank’s number.

  “I should’ve asked if you prefer red or white.” Hank gestured to the glasses of wine. “I didn’t know, so I brought both. Which would you like?”

  “I’ll take red, if you don’t mind.”

  “Perfect.” He handed her the glass and proposed a toast. “To fancy charity galas and dressing up in uncomfortable clothes.”

  Lyla clinked her glass against his and took a sip. They wandered through the ballroom, admiring the artwork, sampling various appetizers, and placing bids on the silent auction items. The whole time, Lyla’s eyes darted around, waiting for Ronnie to find her.