His Wife

by Ashley Hastings

  “Why aren’t you listening to me? I’m telling the truth!” I just managed not to yell the words, but I could feel my panic building.

  He advanced on me. I couldn't bring myself to submit to him when his eyes were so cold. Before when we played, he was rough with my body, but his eyes were always so tender and caring. Not tonight.

  Nathan retook my arm. I risked a peek at his face, but his eyes were still distant. I tried to pull free because I didn't like this distance between us. He spun me around, so I was facing the wall, and he positioned my hands against the wall at about waist-height for me.

  "Bend over." He had shut himself off from me.

  This didn’t feel right. Nathan had spanked me before, and it had always felt like a game. It was frequently a turn on. But not tonight.

  With a harsh whistling sound, the belt struck me lightly across the backs of my thighs.

  “That was just a warning. Bend over.” His voice was warming with his growing anger.

  Who thought being hit with a belt was a turn on? I’m sure somebody did, but not this girl.

  I had to stop this before it went too far.

  I turned around to face him, chin raised in defiance. I held up a hand to ward off the belt.

  “No. We aren’t doing this. Not this way, and not this night.” My voice was strong and clear this time.

  Nathan’s eyebrows raised, and he looked at me for a moment, considering.

  I held his gaze. I wasn’t going to back down.

  I heard Nathan drop the belt. I could see it out of the corner of my eye, curled up like a snake. I was as wary of it as if it really were a snake, coiled and ready to strike. I had worried about coming across snakes at Peacock Alley. I just didn't expect the snake to be in the form of a belt.

  Nathan ran a hand over the back of his neck, and he suddenly looked tired. His shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a heavy burden. But how would I know about his burdens? He rarely told me anything about his emotional concerns.

  He blew out a breath and shook his head, straightening to his full, imposing height.

  “Come here.” He held out his hand to me, but his voice was still harsh and cold. I didn’t take it.

  Nathan scanned me from head to toe. I wearing my gorgeous lingerie that I had put on with him in mind. My jaw tightened, and my eyes narrowed at his reaction. Was that the faintest beginnings of sexual desire in his eyes? Unbelievable.

  I knew where this was going. He was going to hold me close, and then he would want to make love.

  I remained frozen in place. I didn't feel the slightest bit like having sex with him.

  My husband had been hurt by my costume choice. I knew his feelings were real, even if he wouldn’t talk about them with me, but so was the anger that was beginning to boil in my soul.

  I had done nothing wrong. I knew this to be true. I was my harshest critic, but I knew I was innocent of the crime of which he had tried and convicted me. I didn't deserve this punishment. I didn't deserve his anger.

  I did not give a shit about his feelings at this particular moment. A slow burn moved from my toes to my head.

  He reached for me, but I stepped back. Usually, I lived for those moments, when I knew he desired me. The sex between us was always explosive and highly satisfying. But not tonight.

  Nathan stepped forward.

  Maybe he had chosen to forgive me. But was I ready to forgive him?

  I balled up my fist and cold-cocked him right in the nose.

  Tiny as I was, my fury made me strong, and he didn't see the blow coming. His head snapped back, and I freely admit, it was a satisfying moment. Asshole.

  But I was not done.

  "Don't you dare touch me, Nathan." My voice was strained and hoarse again from all my crying, but an underlying fierceness was emerging. I stepped away from him.

  Tears flowed down my face again, and this time I didn't fight them. Let them come. Let everybody see. For once in my life, I didn't care what anybody else thought of me.

  It was time somebody heard ME. My voice mattered, my thoughts and feelings were important, too. Fuck everybody who thought they could run all over me, who thought they could control me. I was done. Doormat Darby was gone.

  It was time everybody, including me, saw who Darby Turner Randolph really was.

  Nathan looked pale.

  Too bad he wasn’t bleeding. I wanted to see the effects of my anger. I was certainly feeling them myself.

  I approached him, hands on my hips. He didn’t back away, and soon we were almost touching.

  "For the last few months, ever since we got married, I've been hiding from the ghost of your first wife. She has been everywhere I have gone. Savannah was at the top of the Empire State building when we had our first date. She stood between my new mother-in-law and me. That bitch whispered in the ear of every visitor to Peacock Alley when they came to judge your new bride. She was in the fucking garden house when I was exploring. Savannah was holding that butt ugly vase when it fell to the floor and shattered."

  I broke off because my voice was weakening. I took a breath and had to step back.

  Nathan was staring at me, eyes wide and jaw open. Good. I wanted him to feel my pain. I couldn't stop the words from coming, one after another.

  "I walk into a room, and I smell her perfume. Her ghost has been everywhere I have gone. Savannah takes every step I take. Or so I thought."

  I paced back and forth in the small stall, then turned to face him.

  "No more. I realized tonight that Savannah doesn't haunt the halls and pathways of Peacock Alley. She's not a ghost. She's dead and gone."

  Nathan stood there in silence, watching me. Why didn’t he say something?

  I grabbed a horse blanket from a hook on the wall and wrapped it around my near-naked body. I threw my head back and straightened my shoulders. I made my way to the door of the barn, and I looked back at my stunned husband.

  As I spoke, my voice broke one last time. "I'm the ghost of Peacock Alley, not Savannah. I'm the one who is invisible."

  Thirty-Four

  I walked back to the house wearing little more than a horse blanket. My head was held high, and I refused to cower. Thank God for comfortable shoes for a walk of shame.

  Funny how I didn't see a single soul on my walk. I could hear them, of course. Over two hundred guests had been invited, and by this time, surely most had arrived. For whatever reason, no one crossed my path.

  Ominous lightning split the sky, following by low rumbles of thunder. Maybe that was keeping everyone indoors, but there was still no rain. I made it to a back door and slipped up a narrow staircase that had once been intended for the servants' use.

  Once in my room, I washed my face, removing all traces of my makeup. I inspected my face, and found my eyes to be red and swollen. No problem. I applied some eye drops and then I crossed to my dresser.

  I changed my lingerie and perused my closet to find appropriate party wear. I was going to my damn party, no matter what.

  I found a gorgeous fire engine red Carolina Herrera dress I had ordered weeks ago. It was clingy, sexy, and classy. For a moment, I considered the looks on my guests' faces if I just showed up in the horse blanket. Now, I really didn't care what I wore. I was only determined to show up, with my chin in the air, pride intact.

  I slipped on the dress and studied myself in the mirror. The red was bold. Good. I felt like being bold tonight.

  I redid my makeup carefully, glancing over toward the door at every little noise. I kept expecting Nathan to burst into the room at any minute, ready to continue our argument, but he didn't show.

  It was hard to carry on with confidence when I was so sad, but I had no choice.

  I stood at the top of the staircase again, and looked down at the crowd. Head high, I moved with purpose down the steps. With every step, I gave myself a pep talk. Stay smooth. Stay focused. Stay in control.

  I made my way to the main ballroom and started greeting my guests.


  “Darby, what a lovely dress!”

  I turned to greet the speaker, a fake blond with fake eyelashes and huge boobs. I couldn’t remember her name, but I was all smiles.

  “So glad you could come tonight! Love your costume!” Not only did I not remember her name, but I had no idea what her outfit meant. She was in all yellow with some random red highlights here and there. I didn’t even try to figure it out, just kept smiling. “My Halloween costume never arrived. Can you believe it? That’s just my darn luck.”

  I made my rounds, and my smile never slipped. I left each group smiling and laughing, as I explained my predicament. I made sure all my guests were greeted, and I held a glass of champagne like it was a prop to complete my act, even though I didn’t feel much like drinking.

  “Mr. Michaels, so good of you to come to our little party. Can I get you another glass of champagne?”

  “Where’s Nathan? Did he go hide somewhere? I know he hates these social occasions.” Mr. Michaels laughed. “He’d much rather work out a business deal than make small talk.”

  “I think you’re right. He’s probably in his library right now, reading some boring legal document.” I laughed and moved on.

  One guest after another. Smile after smile.

  Only a small, select few knew the truth. One by one, the group that had watched me descend the staircase in my costume approached me privately to console me.

  Maxwell ran into as I was crossing the room to greet more guests. He pulled me into a private corner for a chat.

  “Are you okay?” Maxwell leaned in, eyeing my champagne flute. I wasn’t fooling him.

  I shook off his concern, smiling lightly. “I’m doing just fine.” I kept my voice light, and my chin held high.

  Maxwell looked at me with concern. I glanced away from his knowing eyes, and mercifully, he left me alone to continue my charade.

  Two were the exception. My good friends, Beth and Tom, stayed at my side for a long time. Beth whispered encouraging words in my ear as we sat at one of the elegant tables and nibbled on slices of cake. Or in my case, pretended to eat the cake.

  “Are you okay?” Beth asked the question, but Tom leaned in to catch my reply.

  “I’m doing the best I can.” I spoke in low tones and avoided eye contact. I didn’t want to risk more tears.

  "You are doing great, Darby. No one could have handled this situation with more grace than you are doing now." Beth placed her hand on my arm as she spoke.

  I spotted Mother on the other side of the room. She stayed far away, and that was probably a smart move on her part. I wasn't above ducking her head in the sangria bowl. Bitch.

  My eyes continued to scan the room. I wondered where Nathan was, but I wasn’t going to search for him. Maybe he was in his library, after all.

  For hours, I played the dutiful hostess. At some point, Nathan came in and stood at my side as I paused by the fireplace, chatting with neighbors. I stiffened, but I made my smile even brighter. He followed my lead. We never stopped smiling, talking to guests, occasionally checking in with the party staff on minor issues.

  I could feel Nathan looking at me at times, but I never once glanced his way. I was afraid if I looked him in the eye, my anger might erupt again, and then my façade would crack, and everyone would know what I was really feeling.

  At midnight, the rain still hadn't arrived, so the fireworks display went off without a hitch. I had been amazed to learn that fireworks were the finishing act of every Peacock Alley ball, no matter what the occasion. I stood next to Nathan on a third-floor balcony, with our guests spread out on the lawn below us. I was like a queen overseeing her kingdom. Overhead, the fireworks exploded against the dark, rolling storm clouds, appearing like bright jewels on a backdrop of navy velvet.

  Nathan turned to me. I could sense his hesitation in the way he started to reach for me, but dropped his hand as if unsure I would allow his touch.

  "Darby, we probably should talk."

  My head snapped toward him. "Now you want to talk? We should have talked a long time ago." I sounded bitchy, but I still didn’t care.

  I walked away, still fuming, but I kept that damn smile on my face.

  Finally, now that the fireworks were over, the guests began to leave. They must have had a wonderful time because many of them lingered over their goodbyes to me.

  The thunder sounded frightful, but still, no rain fell. The guests gathered their things and made their departures, and I was there through it all, smiling and waving my goodbyes.

  Thirty-Five

  Nathan disappeared again around three in the morning. I stood in the foyer and watched him go after the last guest walked out the door, but I had no idea where he went. It was now November 1, the day after Halloween, the one-year anniversary of Savannah's death. I was sure he was somewhere mourning the loss of his one true love.

  Maybe he went to stand over her empty grave and brought her roses to leave at the headstone. Maybe he went to the garden house, the scene of their torrid sexual encounters to cry alone in the dark, much as I had done in the barn. Maybe he drove over to the lake, to stand on the shores and look out over the dark waters, as he had done in the photo I saw months ago. Who knew?

  I was hurt. I had spent so much time smiling during the party, and pretending everything was okay that I didn’t have time to dwell. I had pushed down my feelings and pain, but now my feelings were confronting me all over again.

  I walked back into the ballroom and surveyed the mess the guests had left behind. A few staff members had begun the job of cleaning up, but the room was quiet. I sat down at one of the tables, and slipped my shoes off. I wish I could turn my thoughts off as easily as I removed my shoes.

  It was clear to me now that he would never love me the way he had loved Savannah. I was a pale substitute for that lost love, and he was no longer satisfied with a mere replacement. For that matter, I was no longer content with being that substitute. I deserved to step out of the shadows and into a life where the focus was on me, not on a dead first wife.

  I went upstairs and got ready for bed. I was exhausted, yet sleep eluded me. I tried to read for a while, to distract myself from my missing husband but wound up pacing for two hours instead. I kept wondering what my next steps should be.

  Should I be packing, and preparing to leave Peacock Alley? The very thought of giving up on my marriage brought the tears back. Should I be looking for my wayward husband? The thought of searching for him made the anger and hurt rise up.

  I was also worried about Nathan, even though I didn’t want to be. I loved him very much, despite the anger and the hurt I was feeling now. Was he okay, or was he overcome by his own grief? He probably didn’t want to see me anyway. He probably wanted to be alone with his memories.

  I frowned and looked out of the window and tried to decide what to do next. The sky lightened as the sun began to rise.

  Finally, I climbed back into bed. I fell into a fitful sleep, and my dreams were unpleasant, and I tossed and turned uneasily in my sleep.

  In my dreams, I was riding Bella at full gallop in a thick, ominous fog. Something or someone was chasing me, but I couldn't tell who was doing the chasing. I kept looking over my shoulder in fear, but I couldn't see anything. Guests from the party, in full costume, were lined up on either side of me as I rode by. They were laughing and pointing. I realized I was only wearing the horse blanket, and it kept slipping down, revealing my nudity. I saw Mother, and strangely enough, she wasn't laughing. Maxwell was at her side, as were the Nolans. They all stared at me with solemn, sad faces. I rode Bella into the cemetery, right up to a freshly dug grave. I read the headstone: Darby Randolph. His second wife. May she rest in peace.

  I sat up in bed, gasping.

  I immediately turned towards Nathan’s side of the bed. It was undisturbed and untouched and the sheets were cold. Where was he? Tears welled up again as I stroked my hand over his pillow and realized my hand was throbbing like a bitch. Hitting your husband in the
face had lasting consequences. Good to know.

  I got up and dressed, being careful of my sore hand. I examined it in the morning light. It was blue, purple, and swollen, but I could open and close it without too much effort. I doubted it was broken.

  I went down to breakfast because I was finished hiding from Mother.

  I found Mother and Maxwell sitting at the table. Still no sign of Nathan. Maybe he spent the night in the garden house.

  "Good morning, Maxwell, Mother."

  I sat down at the table, and put my napkin in my lap with a flourish. Suddenly, I was starving.

  Maxwell looked inexplicably pleased with me and returned my greeting. He got up and came to my seat to pour me a cup of coffee.

  "Where's Nathan, Miss Turner?" The icy tone was back in Mother's voice.

  I looked at her over the rim of my mug, considering my words with care.

  "No idea, Mother." My tone was breezy and confident.

  "So I guess it's finally over?" She looked triumphant again, as she smirked at me, and that was it.

  I put my coffee cup down on the table with a satisfying thud.

  "Fuck you, you heartless bitch."

  I was so calm, it took Maxwell and Mother a moment to realize what I had actually said.

  No one spoke, just looked at me with big eyes and raised eyebrows.

  I sat up straight and stared Mother down.

  "Fuck you and your ridiculous, immature attempts at sabotage. The state of my marriage is between Nathan and myself. You don't figure into it at all. If there is something I think you should know, I will share that information with you."

  Mother stared at me. I could see Maxwell dabbing his mouth with his napkin, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

  Mother drew her shoulders back and attacked.

  "Miss Turner, I think it's way past time for you to realize how inadequate you are for the task of running Peacock Alley, and for being the wife of a powerful man like Nathan. I have waited long enough for you to realize what is obvious to everyone else."