And when I look at Margaret, the pain of what Tim did while we were married is at bay. Usually when I look at her, that’s all I see—my fall from grace from her point of view, how stupid I was to trust Tim, how I should have known better. But I don’t see that now. I just feel Gabe’s warm hand through my thick gray sweater, the sweater is one of Paul’s.
I feel…loved. Adored. I feel so new when I look at Margaret. Perhaps, I can’t help but wonder, she’s been quiet with me because she could see my pain. And at that second as she looks me over, when I usually feel like I should have worn better clothes, should have better taste, I feel redeemed.
I wonder if it’s because Gabe is beside me. And I wonder when he’ll lose interest and go away. I wonder when he’ll be disgusted that I lust after two other men and him. But at least I have him at this second when I need him.
“Mother,” Deidra says, her voice sounding small and soft. God, her mother changes her so much. “This is Officer Gabriel Thompson with our Jane. He’s her boyfriend.”
Deidra swallows. Audibly. I hold her hand, hoping to give her strength. She’s fun and mischievous, but around her mother she wilts into a shadow of herself. And I hate that.
Margaret’s inspection of Gabe is short. Perfunctory as ever. “Officer Thompson, nice to meet you.” She doesn’t hold out a hand to shake. She doesn’t get up.
Gabe takes a big inhalation.
“Gabe.” Deidra’s voice is even softer. “This is my mother, Margaret Emory.”
“Pleasure,” Gabe says and does the bold thing of sticking his hand out. He waits for nearly three seconds while none of us breathe, then Margaret slowing takes his hand, shaking it slightly.
“I haven’t known Jane for long. We’ve been dating for a little over two months now,” Gabe says, like he’s talking to his sergeant at work. “But I know her mother passed away a while ago, and you and Deidra are the closest thing she’s got to family.”
“She is family,” Deidra protests, even though her voice is a fraction of what it was without her mother’s presence. “Jane is my sister. And no one will tell me otherwise.” She looks at Margaret.
I don’t know what this means. Was Margaret telling Deidra to forget me? She’d paid me off and I shouldn’t be a part of the family now?
Gabe smiles at Deidra then looks pointedly at Margaret. “So I wanted to let you know, as I’ve let Deidra know, that I only have good intentions regarding Jane. I never want to hurt her. I’ll protect her from all harm. I’ll do my best to be a good man to her for as long as she wants me.”
I glance at Gabe. He’s taken me by surprise in so many different ways. He makes my heart thump and hurt and feel too good all at once. I want to wrap my arms around Gabe and I almost do, but Margaret speaks up first.
“That’s very gentlemanlike of you to say, officer.”
“Gabe, please call me Gabe, ma’am.”
She blinks rapidly for a moment. “Then please call me Mags.”
Mags? I’ve never heard anyone call Margaret anything other than Mrs. Emory or Mother or nothing at all. No one, not even the realtor who was scared she’d lose her job, would dare call Margaret a bitch. Margaret’s that intimidating, where she doesn’t even get called swearwords for her less than civil behavior.
Gabe smiles. Deidra looks baffled and I’m sure I do too.
Margaret laughs. “The look on you girls’ faces.”
I’ve only ever seen Margaret laugh when Tim was alive. He could get her to giggle like a school girl. He had this magical power that I was in awe of where a fortress of a woman like Margaret would melt into a puddle of goo. It wasn’t just that Tim liked to laugh himself, but he liked it best when everyone was happy.
I wonder if he hurt when he knew he was hurting me. Honestly, I thought him too selfish to care, but I could be wrong.
However, that’s the problem with having an issue with the dead. There’s no discussion. No confrontation. No validation. There’s only my wandering thoughts. But since having the men in my life, my issue seems to have taken a nap, rested. I don’t hurt as much as I used to. I’m not angry anymore. I do get sad, because without that bitter anger, it means I’m letting go of Tim. I’m letting go of wanting Margaret to love me. I’m letting go of everything.
Margaret looks at me. “Well, I like Gabe, Jane. Well done.”
“Th-thank you?” I don’t mean to make it a question, but it sounds like one.
Margaret glances at her daughter. “Deidra, sit, so our guests feel comfortable to do the same.”
Deidra sits, looking at me like she’s pretty sure she’s sitting next to the antichrist.
“I can’t stay…Mags,” Gabe says. “But thank you for the invite.”
“Certainly, Gabe.” Margaret says Gabe’s name like there’s cotton on her tongue, like she’s uncomfortable saying it, but she’s going to try.
Gabe kisses my cheek and scoots me into the chair next to Deidra. With Gabe’s big hand on my back, Margaret clears her voice delicately.
“Gabe, I—I’ve wanted to talk to Jane—I should let you know—”
Never before have I heard Margaret struggle for words, and I worry I’m staring at her, at the woman who’s always been stonily quiet, but the few words she’s chosen were always to the point and painful.
Deidra shakes her head. “Mother, please, don’t.”
Margaret thrusts her chin up. “You should know, Gabe, that I never want to hurt Jane either. But I know I do. I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I hurt every time I see her. I can’t help but think of my son who afflicted so much pain…” She stops herself on a sad note.
Looking into her teacup, something twists her perfect pink lips. I can’t tell, but I think she’s smiling as she continues. “You should have met my Timothy. He was—” she chuckles, “—he was beautiful and light and humorous. But not kind. My poor boy hurt Jane in so many ways. Has she told you?”
Gabe nods but then glances at me. His blue eyes seem to look into my very heart. Then he clears his throat and says, “I knew your son, Mags.”
I stare at Gabe. Was there an earthquake? Some catastrophe? Because I’m in a weird state of shock where I want to duck under the table and scream.
He won’t look at me but only at Margaret. “I was the patrol officer who arrested him four years ago.”
Arrested? Tim was arrested? I look at Deidra who looks confused too.
Margaret, though, is gazing at her teacup once more. “Tim had just been diagnosed with lymphoma. Stage four they told him.” She looks at me. “Well, you remember, Jane. They told him to think about a will, to get things in place. They told him surgery wouldn’t help. Chemo would make him too sick, yet they were willing to try it. Oh, and he needed to get his things ready, like he was flying to Japan or something. Why do doctors say such terrible things like that?”
We’re all quiet. Too quiet.
Margaret gives me another flickering glance before she says, “Tim was drunk, driving, and—I didn’t want to hurt you, Jane. I didn’t want you to know—about the girl he was arrested with. I took care of everything, made it so it almost never happened. So you’d never know. I told him to go back to you, told him what a wonderful wife you were, told him he’d never find anyone better than you.”
I can’t help but clutch over my heart. It hurts so much. And yet, Margaret is saying such beautiful things about me.
I peek up at Gabe. He sits in the chair beside me, holding my hand. But I want to snatch my hand away.
“I couldn’t tell you.” His voice is pleading.
I nod. I understand. Gabe’s job requires him to not babble on and on about the people he’s arrested. I get it. But I still feel angry he hadn’t told me. It’s irrational, and I know it, so I do my best to assuage my feelings. Wait, why has he said anything about it now? Why did he admit as much to Margaret?
Through my internal questions, I can’t help but wonder, “Did you know I was Tim’s wife when we met?”
&nbs
p; He winces.
The feeling of an impending catastrophe or maybe one that’s already happened crashes over me again. “You knew who I was?”
Slowly, he nods.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I’m about to say something, though I don’t know what when Gabe beats me to it.
“Maybe I should have said I knew who you were, but I figured you’d…you’d get uncomfortable. But, yeah, after I met Tim, after I found out about his cancer, I—there were a few more run-ins with your husband. None of us blamed him. Hell, I’d get drunk too if I found out my life was about to end.”
“More run-ins?” Margaret deftly asks. “How many more times did my son get pulled over?”
Gabe shrugs. “A few.”
“But you didn’t arrest him again?”
Gabe shakes his head. “The force knew who he was by then. We’d just drive him home.”
Then Gabe’s radio blasts something, and I’ve memorized enough of the code to know that dispatch is asking for his location.
“Copy,” he says into his radio. “I’ll be at my car, still at the front of the Plaza, in five. Out.”
He looks at me, seeming to beg for something. But I’m not sure I know who he is any longer. He’s the man who was just inside me, who made me orgasm and fall in love with him. But he’s so much more. He has secrets too. He knew Tim. He knew Tim had cheated on me before I’d ever gotten the chance to tell him.
Does he pity me? The poor idiotic wife?
He’s still wincing. “I gotta go.”
I nod.
“We’ll talk later?”
For a second I don’t nod. I just want to run, run from this different Margaret, run from the cacophony of the mall, run from everything I know and love. But I do nod since I know it’s rational to talk things out. I know it. But I still want to run.
He says his goodbyes to Deidra and Margaret, kisses me on my cheek, and I’m not sure but I think he whispered that he loved me in my ear. No, he couldn’t have.
And he’s gone.
“Deidra, dear, get Jane something to drink.”
I turn to Deidra. I’ve seen a picture of her after she’s been about a hundred yards away from an IED explosion in Afghanistan. She was dirty and bloody from her nose and ear. She looked shocked and so beautiful. She looks like that right now. And through my own rude awakening, I reach out and hold her hand.
My sister.
I smile at her.
I’ll always be hurt by the things Tim did. But now the hurt isn’t so bad. Why I’m in any sort of pain at the moment is because I wish Gabe had told me he knew of me, even if he couldn’t. And I don’t know who Margaret is and I wish she loved me like I love her. Oh, yes, I love her. I would do anything for her. And not because she’s Tim’s mother. But because I just love her.
I stroke Deidra’s hand. It must be so hard for her. She loved her big brother so much. I know she knew of the things he’d done. She’d been the one to call him a dick while he was alive. But she loved him fiercely. We all did.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
She nods, her eyes smart. “I’m fine. Fine. You?”
I smile even wider. “Yes.”
“Deidra, please get Jane a drink.” Margaret’s voice is edged with frost.
I’m fairly certain she wants to talk to me alone. Looking at Deidra, I’m guessing she’s having an internal fight over whether to leave me alone with her mother or not.
Margaret gives her a glance that could scare the devil, and I’m alone with my former mother-in-law, Deidra looking over her shoulder like she’d been given thirty pieces of silver and kissed my cheeks. She didn’t betray me. I know the force that is Margaret.
She takes a very long sigh. Her nostrils flare, her cheeks have a slight pink hue. “I was talking to Deidra about no longer calling you.”
“Why?” I whine. I hate that I’ve whined, but I can’t help it.
Margaret won’t look at me. “Because it seems all my family does is hurt you.”
“That’s not true.”
Margaret’s lips thin. “Then maybe only my son and I do that.”
“You haven’t hurt me.” But it’s a lie. However, Margaret only hurt me because I wish…I wish she’d show me she loves me. However, she bought me a big house, didn’t she? She reimbursed me after my savings were lost. She gave me twice what was taken. I’ve been a buffoon hoping for Margaret’s love, not noticing it was there the whole time. Granted, it doesn’t feel like love. But not everyone can offer the kind of love that doesn’t sting.
Margaret finally looks at me. Her eyes scorch into my soul. Tim’s eyes. Tim when he was angry at me for leaving my shoes in the hallway for him to trip over. He’d roar about shoes having a place, then say how he sounded like his mother, and tell me to leave my shoes wherever I wanted, kissing me with apologies.
I might sound like a doormat, but I don’t regret loving Tim. He’d make me laugh when I thought this world had it out for me. He made me feel…safe. I know that’s an odd choice of words, especially considering the man fucked more women then I’d ever like to know. But I never worried if he might ridicule my intelligence and knowledge. I never worried if he might belittle me. He belittled our marriage and vows, but he never did that to me, his friend.
I reach out and touch Margaret’s hand. I’ve never touched her. But I do this daring feat because suddenly I’m filled with love for Tim, for her, and I don’t care if Tim broke his vows. Okay, I do. But I also don’t. As a woman who came from a background where everything about who I was I secreted away, like my very soul was too foul for others to see, to have Tim’s acceptance and dysfunctional love saved me.
Margaret saved me from financial woes. She gave me such a big beautiful house that I’m currently sharing with three men. I love her and everything she’s done for me.
“Don’t push me out of your life, Margaret. Please.” I clear my throat since it’s tight and raw. “I love you. I want to talk to you—so much. I want to know how you’re doing.”
Margaret’s eyes instantly fill with tears. “Why? I’ve been—I—I know I’m not the sort of woman that’s easy to—Why?”
“Because I love you so much. And I’d miss you if you didn’t talk to me.”
“I don’t talk.”
“Well, I don’t either. Usually. But we can change that.”
Margaret barely touches my little finger with her thumb. “You’ve changed.”
“I think you have too.”
She glances at me, chin up. “I took a lover twenty years my junior.”
“Wow.” I laugh. Her husband died long before I met Tim. In all that time, she’d never dated. Tim got her a t-shirt that read, I’ve raised my children alone and all I got was this hair shirt. Apparently, she liked to use the fact that she was alone in her guilt trips for her children. And that makes me laugh even more. “Congratulations.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s a stupid affair.”
“Why?”
“He’s too young for me.”
I shrug. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
Now she really rolls her eyes, but then smiles and looks down at our hands. She’s holding one of my fingers. “You sounded like Timothy just then.”
I sigh. “He was so good at those tautological arguments.”
She laughs. Actually laughs. It’s soft but it’s bubbly and spirited. “He was.” She glances over her shoulder at her daughter, who’s looking at us like we might be kidnapped at any second. And she’s finally at the register, having battled a Christmas line for eggnog lattes.
Margaret looks back at me. “Gabe seems like a good man.”
I glance down. I’m great talking about other people. But me? Especially now that I’m in a relationship with three other men…I’d rather talk about the weather.
I nod.
“Do you love him?”
I nod again.
“He’s in love with you.”
�
��I found you,” says a desperate voice, one I know intimately.
I look up and try not to cringe when I see Paul.
24
Paul races toward me, taking my free hand and sitting where Deidra had been.
“I called Gabe and he told me you were here. I just—” He swallows. “I had to tell you…” But he trails off and looks at Margaret.
“Hi, sorry,” Paul says. “Usually, I’m not so rude, but I have to say something to Jane.”
“By all means,” Margaret says, her voice cool. She arches a blonde brow.
“Hi!” Deidra of course returns then and hands me one of the yuletide lattes sprinkled with nutmeg and heavy with whipped cream. “I’m Jane’s sister-in-law, Deidra. Er, Dee, if you don’t mind.” She sits on the only available chair at the table and looks at Paul with a playful smile on her face.
For a moment, I concentrate on my sister-in-law. Dee? She’s never asked me to call her Dee. Then again, Margaret usually calls her Deidra Alexandra. And Tim called her Dorkbutt. One word like that. She called him Cheesenerd. But later, after she found out about his indiscretions, he was Cheesedick. They made me laugh with their sibling names. I wonder how much Deidra must miss her brother.
Paul briefly shakes his head, scrubs his whiskered jaw with his long fingers, which makes a hushing noise I love, bringing me back to him, to this moment.
He sighs. “Hi, forgive me for being so rude, interrupting—”
“No, it’s fine,” Margaret says. She has a teeny smile on her face. It’s very small, but it’s almost identical to the one on Deidra’s. “Please continue, Mr.—?”
“This is Dr. Paul Riddick. He’s an English professor where I teach.” I talk to my lap, not sure if I can look at Margaret or Deidra. What on earth are they thinking? First, Gabe comes in and says such beautiful, romantic things, and now Paul’s clutching at me, looking feverishly like Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. God, just let him say something about school. Please.
Paul shakes hands with Deidra and Margaret as I introduce them. He smiles.
“You were saying, Dr. Riddick?” I’ve never heard Margaret’s voice like it is now. It sounds girlish and pretty. She’s having fun at my expense, and the thing is, I don’t mind. I mean, sure, I wish I wasn’t such a huge target for ridicule, but I love the slight twinkle in Margaret’s blue eyes.
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