Still Waters

by Misha Crews

  Of course, all that was gone now. The shining future he’d envisioned for himself had been built on a rotten foundation of lies and secrets.

  A bitter taste rose in his throat as he thought of all the times that he’d held Jenna in his arms, stroked her alabaster body, and congratulated himself on being so fortunate as to call himself her lover. And all the time, she — she —

  He opened the car door and vomited bile onto the pavement. He drew a shaking hand across his mouth, and he glanced around furtively as he closed the door. He was down the block from Jenna’s house, but someone might recognize his car, and if they did, they would certainly remark on him throwing up in the gutter early on a Sunday morning.

  Secrets. Lies. All of the ugliness that loomed behind the gentle suburban block seemed painfully vivid now. Why had he never seen it before?

  Women, that was why. Women had a way of blinding a man, of making a man insensible to his own good sense. Well, Frank had had enough of them, all of them. Evelyn, Jenna, Kitty — they could all take their secrets and their lies and dump them in the river.

  A shiny blue car came around the traffic circle at the end of the block. Frank’s bowels cramped painfully, and his lips begin to tremble. He knew that automobile. It belonged to him, to Balentine. Frank’s eyes followed the car as it came toward him, then made an abrupt U-turn and pulled up in front of Jenna’s house. What the hell was he doing here?

  Frank’s hand drifted to the ignition as Adam got out of his car and stood like a pillar in the street, staring at the house. Tempting target, that. It would be so easy. How long would it take? Start the car, put it in gear, press down on the gas….

  But before he could find out, Adam was bounding up the stairs and onto the porch, out of Frank’s line of sight.

  Disgusting. Frank dropped his hand from the keys. To go to a woman’s door in the early hours like that. He peered around again, this time hoping that some busybody would be watching, someone who could whisper about it to the neighbors. But the windows were dark, people in their homes still asleep and oblivious to the wickedness going on right under their noses.

  He wondered what the good people in this gentle neighborhood would say if they knew the truth about Mrs. Jenna Damont Appleton. How would they react, if they knew precisely what she was and what she had done?

  He sneered around the sour taste of vomit. The poor widow woman, the pitiable mother raising a child alone. Lies, all of it! She was no better than any of the filthy, disgusting —

  No. Frank stopped himself abruptly. His hands found the steering wheel and gripped it.

  He would not allow his thoughts to travel down that forlorn path. Jenna might have wallowed in the muck, but he, Frank, would take the high road. Men of his stature should always take the high road. Lead by example, as Dr. Kidd used to say. That was the only way that lower-minded people would learn anything. Frank had never thought that he would have to include Jenna in that category, but it couldn’t be denied any longer. She was who she was, and someone needed to teach her a lesson.

  Yes, a lesson. He felt calmer now, and cleaner. He readjusted the rearview mirror so he could once again get a good look at himself. He smoothed his hair, adjusted his shirt collar. Jenna needed someone to help her. And obviously he was the only one around who had the courage to do it.

  He found himself smiling as he pulled away from the curb. He felt better already.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “OH MY GOD, JEN. HOW COULD this have happened?” Adam asked, sinking into a kitchen chair.

  His body was vibrating from the shock of her words, but he kept his voice soft in deference to Jenna, who was so pale and shaken that he feared she would be sick. She was still in her bathrobe and slippers, her eyes dark and shadowed, hair uncombed. He had never seen her like this, stripped bare of her self-control, bruised to the soul. Why else would she have called him so early in the morning?

  He had flown back from Chicago late last night, having secured an earlier flight after neatly turning down his friend’s job offer. The plan had been for Jenna to talk to Frank while Adam was gone. Then the two of them would’ve gone out and seen Bill and Kitty that day, to break the joyous news of their engagement. While he knew that Bill and Kitty would be surprised, and maybe even a little upset for Frank’s sake, he was sure that they would be thrilled at the idea of he and Jenna getting married.

  That was what he’d thought he was coming home to. Instead, he came back to chaos. To devastation. To the ruination of the only family he’d ever known.

  Jenna spoke, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I didn’t plan to tell them — and God knows I didn’t want to do it — but the words just came tumbling out. If I had waited, I’m not sure what Frank might have said. He might have even told them about Joseph, and I don’t think they’re ready to hear about him, do you?”

  “They’re not ready for any of this.”

  “I know.” Jenna’s eyes filled with tears again, and with shaking hands, she lifted her cup of tea to her lips. Outside, Adam could hear Christopher’s laughter as he played with Fritz. The boy was up early, just like the rest of them, but he was still beautifully oblivious to the horror of what was going on in his family.

  Adam took a breath. He had to fix this thing, if not for himself and Jenna, then for Christopher. “Well, look, we should just go right back out there and talk to them. Bill and Kitty deserve a chance to confront us, to ask questions, to curse us if necessary. After they vent their anger, maybe they’ll be ready to talk.”

  “I wish that were true,” Jenna said softly. “I would have let Kitty slap me a dozen more times if I thought it would have made a difference. And I can’t blame her for doing it. I mean, I’m the one who lied to her for six years. I’m the one who cheated on her son. I’m the one who….” She broke off, sobs shaking her narrow shoulders.

  He reached out and took her hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all by yourself, Jen. I wish I had been there for you.”

  She squeezed his fingers gratefully. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. This is squarely on me.”

  “Well, like you once reminded me, you weren’t exactly alone when Christopher was conceived.” He saw her small smile, saw the quick flood of tears in her eyes, and added, “But you’ve been alone ever since, haven’t you? My poor Jen. Maybe we should just give them some time.”

  “I don’t know, Adam. Part of me thinks that even if we give them to the end of eternity, they’re not going to forgive us. Especially not me.”

  He gripped her arm. “Don’t say that, Jen. You can’t really think it’s true.”

  “I think…I think it would take a miracle.”

  Adam sat back, letting Jenna’s words sink in. If she was right, if Bill and Kitty were so heartbroken that they could never forgive, how would he live with himself? He saw the thought reflected in Jenna’s eyes and felt his heart breaking. For her, for himself, for Bill and Kitty and Christopher…for all of them.

  I’m so sorry, Bud, he thought. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to pull your family apart.

  He dragged a hand through his hair and struggled to pull himself together. Then he stretched out and collected both her hands in his. He raised them to his lips. “Jen, remember the pond where we used to swim in the summer?”

  She stared at him with eyes wide and dark. Then she nodded numbly.

  “It would freeze solid in January, but by mid-February it would start to thaw. When we saw the cracks in the ice, we knew that spring was on the way.”

  He waited, but she didn’t speak, so he continued. “Well, that’s what this is. The water’s dangerous right now, but soon it will be warm again. How do we know that? Because there are cracks in the ice. Change is coming; the world is renewing itself. In time, we’ll forget it was ever this cold. And whatever happens, you still have me, and you still have Christopher. Remember that, okay? You still have your family.”

  The back door banged open,
bringing a wash of cold November air through the kitchen. Christopher flew into the house like he was riding on wings. Yesterday’s tantrum had been forgotten. Today his eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed with the autumn wind. Adam released Jenna’s hands just before Christopher threw his arms around his mother. “Mommy, I saw the squirrel! You were right, he’s okay!”

  “What?” Appearing distracted and somewhat startled by her son’s excited display of impulsive affection, she patted him on the back.

  “The squirrel, Mom! He’s outside.” Christopher grabbed her hand and pulled. “Come see!”

  Jenna rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Sweetie….”

  He tugged harder. “Come see!”

  Adam watched Christopher pull Jenna to her feet and across the kitchen. Jenna peered through the screen door, pulling her robe more tightly around herself. Then she blinked, straightened up, and turned to Adam. For the first time that day, a slight smile began to spread across her face. She held out a hand to him.

  “Adam, come look at this.”

  He took her hand and stood beside her, looking out the back door. On the railing of the back deck sat a common gray squirrel, its fluffy tail ruffled by the breeze. Between its paws, it was clutching half a walnut. The squirrel fixed them with one beady black eye, but continued munching on his breakfast.

  Adam looked down at Christopher, then over at Jenna, taking in the rapt delight on their faces. His heart swelled with love and gratitude, driving out his desolation. Despite everything that had happened these past few days, he had the woman he loved at his side, and his hand was resting on his son’s shoulder. There was a lot to be thankful for, and that was the truth.

  “Did you give him that nut?” Jenna asked Christopher at length.

  “Yep,” he said proudly. He kept his voice low, to avoid spooking the squirrel.

  “But where did you get it? I put the bag of nuts in the upper cupboard.”

  “I’ve been carrying it in my pocket,” Christopher replied. “Just in case he came back.”

  Adam saw a single tear spill from Jenna’s eye and roll down her cheek. He squeezed her hand.

  “That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” she whispered.

  Christopher looked up at her. “It’s not just wonderful, Mom. It’s a miracle.”

  And with that, he opened the screen door and gently slipped back outside.

  Jenna’s eyes found Adam’s, and they stared at each other. “That’s not quite the miracle we were looking for,” she said finally.

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “At this point, I think we should take them where we can get them,” he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THE TEAKETTLE ON THE STOVE BEGAN to hum, and the kitchen filled with the moist scent of hot metal and boiling water. The humming sharpened gradually into a low whistle.

  Jenna heard it, but paid no mind. She was staring out the back window, down at the winter-brown grass. She was thinking of fresh starts. And pork chops.

  It was hard to believe that only a few days before, her world had been turned upside down and inside out. Only a week prior, she had been sailing on familiar waters: she had been steadfastly dedicated to the idea of marrying Frank; Bill and Kitty still loved her; Maya wanted nothing to do with her; and Adam was an ache she sought to forget. Now the waters were choppy, and the shoreline was distant and strange. And in between, she had been forced to shoot the rapids, heart in her throat, not sure if she would survive.

  And yet here she was.

  It was Tuesday morning, three days before Thanksgiving. She had kept Christopher home from playschool yesterday, but this morning he had insisted on going. “I have to tell Miss Naverly about the squirrel, Mom,” he’d said. “She’s not going to believe it.”

  And so Jenna had gotten her son dressed and taken him to school. Life was already beginning to resume the pretense of normality, which was both reassuring and worrying at the same time.

  The kettle’s low whistle built slowly to an insistent shriek, and reluctantly Jenna pulled herself away from the window. She poured hot water into a mug, added tea, and sat down at the kitchen table.

  She had no idea what she was going to tell Christopher about his grandparents. She could hold him off for a few more days, but on Thanksgiving, he was going to wonder why they were eating at home and why his mother had made pork chops instead of turkey. “I’m too worried to go to the grocery store,” was not exactly something she could say to her son. The idea didn’t even make sense, true though it was.

  Adam had stayed with them all day yesterday, which had been a blessing. Last night, the three of them had walked across the street to have dinner with Stella, Max, and Rose. Jenna had taken more care with her makeup than usual, trying to conceal the shadows under her eyes and the paleness in her lips.

  Stella had taken one look at her and known something was amiss. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked as soon as the women were alone in the kitchen together. “You’re here with Adam. Did you and Frank….”

  “We’re done,” Jenna had said quietly.

  Stella had nodded, her black eyes somber. “And that’s not all,” she’d said astutely. She’d waited a moment to see if Jenna would speak, then added, “What else?”

  Her words weren’t spurred by a salacious desire for dirty details. They were more like the gentle prodding of a mother who knows a child has a secret that must be told, the way a rotten tooth needs to be pulled to give the body relief.

  It took Jenna a few seconds to find the strength to speak. “I had a fight with Bill and Kitty,” she said. Her voice was soft and quavering. Her body still trembled with the grief of it. “It was bad.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Stella said. Jenna was sure Stella wanted to ask more questions, but she wasn’t the type to pry when the situation was serious.

  “Thank you.” Overcome with gratitude that she had such a friend, Jenna enfolded Stella in an abrupt embrace, holding on to her as she never had before. When she released her, Jenna could see the surprised look on Stella’s face and the tears in her eyes at the unprecedented display of affection.

  Stella turned away to check something on the stove. Her movements were brisk to cover her emotion. “And Adam?” she asked over her shoulder.

  A smile stretched over Jenna’s face, belying the tears she felt on her cheeks. “The only good thing to come out of this,” she said. She just had to remember that, to hold onto it when things became difficult.

  After that emotional scene, the evening had passed pleasantly. Christopher seemed

  unconcerned with Frank’s absence and Adam’s presence. Too young to worry about it, Jenna had thought affectionately. Lucky little guy.

  Rose had noticed, of course. Her sensitive, intelligent eyes watched Adam and Jenna together. She didn’t say anything, but Jenna sensed she approved of the arrangement.

  Adam had offered to sleep on the couch that night, but Jenna assured him she and Christopher would be all right on their own. “You have to be at work early tomorrow,” she’d reminded him. “Stay at your place; you’ll get a better start to your day.”

  He’d admitted the truth of her statement, but had seemed reluctant to leave.

  “Pretty soon you’ll spend every night with us,” Jenna had said with a smile. “Go home and sleep in the middle of the bed while you can.”

  That had done it. He’d departed, but not before he checked all the doors and windows. “Call me if you need me,” he’d said. He had kissed her just once, deeply, and then he was gone.

  Jenna hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she needed the time alone. Although she had felt much improved from yesterday and this morning, her body was still vibrating like a live wire. She’d needed to sit on her sofa in the darkened living room, knowing her son was sleeping peacefully upstairs, hearing the gentle snoring of Fritz as he snoozed on the braided rug at her feet. She needed some time to grieve.

  Oh, she’d felt plenty of grief over the past forty-eight hours, and r
egret, self-recrimination, hopelessness. But that was for Bill and Kitty. Now was for Frank.

  As sad as she was over what had happened with Bill and Kitty, in some ways she was sadder still about Frank. He had been good to her, and good for her in a lot of ways. She hadn’t told Adam everything about Frank’s outburst on Saturday, hadn’t revealed that he had pushed her, grabbed her, struck himself in the head. If she had, Adam would probably not have left her side for the next six months.

  The shrilling of the kettle brought Jenna back to the present. She pushed herself away from the window and poured hot water into the teacup waiting on the table.

  Poor Frank. Everything he’d loved about her had been a lie. He had also been trying to hold his world together, and Jenna had smashed it to bits. She’d constantly told herself that he was a good man, and he was. But he was also troubled, damaged, maybe even broken. If nothing else, he deserved her pity and her silence.

  Jenna swirled the tea in her mug and checked the clock on the wall. Almost time to leave to pick up Christopher, which was good. The house was too quiet without him. Maybe she would take him to McDonald’s for lunch. That was a rare treat, but she felt the need to indulge him, spoil him, lather him with love. She was sure Adam would come for dinner tonight, and maybe with him here she could find the strength to go out and buy a turkey, make them a real Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. It would be good for the three of them to spend a quiet day together.