It was a miracle. They had actually managed to put aside their differences for the night.
But what if there was someone else? What if he was thinking about that person?
She pictured Leena with her perfectly styled, highlighted, smooth hair and cute, clinging clothes. Leena had new knee-high boots and one of those matching short leather coats with long sleeves. She had her nails perfectly done and wore flashy makeup that still managed to look good.
“Trey…” She pulled her head back, wanting to give in to his kisses on her neck, but more than that, she wanted to know the truth. “With all the problems we’ve been having, I keep wondering if you might have someone else.”
It was much easier than she’d expected to say those words, but once she’d spoken, stillness crept into the room like a chilly, blinding fog. He stiffened and straightened, leaving her cold and alone.
“Why would you ask that?” His tone was perfectly neutral, almost conversational, like he might be a bit surprised but not upset. Like he’d thought about answering this question way too often.
“Well, because we’ve had so many problems and have been growing apart, I started to wonder if you…had met someone else. Maybe even someone we both know.” She was fishing, and deliberately punishing herself. Did she really want to know? Of course not. But how could she kiss him and sleep with him if he were pretending she was another woman? It was eating her up like caustic acid.
He stepped back, sighing like she was a pesky little girl. “Rosette.”
So he wasn’t going to budge. His tone seemed to say she was being ridiculous, and yet he hadn’t denied it. There had to be something going on. They were standing close enough that she could hear the tension in his breath as he breathed in and out.
“Maybe you should tell me about Ricky.”
Her heart stopped. Even her lungs quit working. He knew? He knew? All this time and he’d said nothing?
Her lungs burned, and she forced herself to take a breath.
Thank God the lamp was off. Even though she wanted to see his face—to see how hurt or angry he was—she couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at her.
They’d stepped apart a few feet by now, but it felt like miles.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, wincing at the high-pitched voice that squeaked out.
Trey moved toward her, but walked on by and into the bathroom, shutting the door. Apparently he didn’t want to talk about it. Why would he, especially after she’d denied it?
When he came out of the bathroom, he slipped under the covers and faced the other way. She got ready for bed, trying to understand how they were sleeping together in the same bed, when things were getting worse and worse.
~ ~ ~
Mondays weren’t supposed to be this bad, not when you’re off work. Hell, maybe life would be better if Trey convinced Harry to let him come back a week early. No, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever be ready to face his job again.
He leaned over his plate of eggs and bacon with half-closed eyes, thankful the dining area was quiet again. The kids had scarfed down their scrambled eggs and ran off to watch TV, and the older ones weren’t up yet. Was Summer one of their older kids now?
To say he felt like a train wreck would be an understatement. Things with Rosette had gone from horrible, to better, to completely FUBAR all in one night. He just wanted things between them to be good, for life to be good, instead of one painful day after another. Last night was a long night. A very long night. Trey had stayed in the bedroom with Rosette, aching for her, because he didn’t want her to think he left the room for the wrong reason. He couldn’t let her think he ran away because she suspected there was someone else. There wasn’t, not really, not anything that mattered or meant anything at all, so running away would just make him look guilty.
He also didn’t want her to think he left the bedroom so he could fantasize about another woman, or because he didn’t want to lie beside his wife. Both of those were so far from the truth.
Then there was the sticky little situation about Ricky. He didn’t want Rosette worrying that he was mad about it—as senseless as it was to simply let it go, he had done just that. He should be mad. He should have been mad six years ago when it happened, but since he’d never confronted her then, it now seemed like water under the bridge. Nothing had changed between them, or between Ricky and Rosette, after that kiss. He’d decided it was a fluke.
So last night they’d gone to bed silently, both rolling around during the night. He would drift off only to feel her roll over or to hear her sigh like she couldn’t get to sleep.
Now he sat here half awake, trying to sort things out in his mind about Amanda. He was becoming more and more convinced that someone had driven her off the road. He just had to figure out who and why. And he knew that girl watching the house was somehow involved.
Or maybe it didn’t make sense. He was pretty sure Rosette thought that girl was after the baby for some reason, but how did that fit with her to trying to kill Amanda?
He rubbed his eyes. Everything was piling up and becoming even more complicated.
“Daddy?”
He jumped and opened his eyes. Candice stood next to him, her baby doll in her arms. “Are we going to the beach today?”
“Tomorrow, sweetie.” He tried to smile. “It’s supposed to be sunny and warm tomorrow.”
She turned and ran out of the room, talking to her brother before she even found him. Trey sat back, suddenly sick of feeling like his life was getting away from him. He wanted to do something about it.
First, he went into their office and called Harry to relay his latest idea and the information Rosette had told him about the girl.
“Well, it’s not a lot to go on,” Harry said, “but I’ll see if there’s anything we can look into further.”
“Anything at all,” Trey said. “If something doesn’t look right, maybe it’s not. I need to look into it for Amanda.” For the rest of them, he thought, but didn’t share that. He got off the phone and left the office.
Rosette was in the living room, folding laundry from the basket on the floor, making piles on the couch. Trey stopped and looked at her, wanting to walk over and put his arms around her. She barely glanced at him. Hope was lying in the little bouncer seat they’d picked up from Amanda’s. It let her recline and look up at a bunch of hanging toys, but she was watching Rosette. He had a feeling they’d been having a “conversation” before he walked in.
“I’m going to run to the store. I’ll be right back.”
She just nodded. That was okay; he knew things wouldn’t change just because he’d decided to start trying. The garage and car were cold, but he was in a hurry and didn’t go back inside for a jacket. He pulled out and drove through the grove of firs that separated their house from the road. His grandmother Kay had loved those trees and spent as much time there as she did looking out the other side of the house, toward the beach. He still thought of the stand of trees as Kay’s Forest. Sometimes, when he thought he was forgetting the sound of his grandfather’s voice, he’d remember Grandpa talking about Grandma Kay and her forest. Then all the memories came back crystal clear, complete with sounds and smells.
The weather was picking up outside, with just a few fluffy white clouds skimming across the sky. A warm front was coming in, and the weatherman had promised a good day tomorrow. He hoped so. His family needed a good day.
Trey stopped by Chuck’s Seafood Market in Charleston for fresh scallops; then he drove into Coos Bay to Safeway for bacon, Brussels sprouts, and wine, plus the few items Rosette had put on the list on the fridge, and a dozen red roses. He chose the dozen carefully. He’d learned from Rosette’s friend Angel that not all roses in the stores smell fragrant and lovely. Mitch had brought flowers home for Angel’s birthday early in their marriage, and it’d somehow started a fight. The two wouldn’t even talk to each other. When Trey had played the moderator, he discovered Mitch had unknowingly brou
ght Angel stinky flowers. Trey had learned from Mitch’s mistake, and from then on he thoroughly sniffed any flowers he picked or bought for his wife. It was true—he had come across roses that had no fragrance at all. Apparently when a woman leans in and sniffs the flowers, the smell tells her how much you love her.
He skipped getting a card to go with the roses because he didn’t want to write his feelings. He wanted to hand her the roses and tell Rosette directly that he was sorry. That he loved her.
There was brown rice already at home and all the other ingredients he needed for dinner, so Trey headed up front to pay, feeling lighter than he had in quite a while. Both the cashier and the lady behind him in line smiled at the roses. He let himself pretend he was the good guy for a little while and left the store with a smile. Rosette would see he was trying, and that he wasn’t mad about the little thing with Ricky, and maybe she’d realize her worries were a little thing, too. Ten years together had to be bigger than a few arguments. Two kids. Alex. Hope. Summer. Their home. They could love their life together—it wouldn’t be so hard. Heck, they had it pretty good with a home overlooking the ocean. He had actually looked up what similar houses were selling for and he’d about had a heart attack. A neighbor’s house had sold for nearly two million dollars. Of course, their house was older, but they owned it outright since it’d been passed down, and it had the same view and the great beach just a short walk away.
Driving along the highway with million-dollar homes on the oceanfront and modest homes or even trailers on the opposite side underscored just how truly blessed they were. As he drove back through Kay’s Forest and pulled into the garage, his daydream cracked for just a second. What would happen to the house if Rosette pushed for a divorce? Would she want him to sell it and split the profit? How could they throw all this away? Of course, it was Alex’s house too. It was their home. He couldn’t think about that, so he pushed it out of his mind. It wasn’t why he wanted to fix his marriage, after all.
He went in through the garage to the kitchen to drop off the groceries and walked on to the living room. Two faces turned and looked at him: Rosette’s and Leena’s. He stutter-stepped but kept his composure, he thought. They were sitting on the couch together, with Hope in Rosette’s arms.
Both faces registered surprise with wide eyes, followed by duplicate gazes that dropped to the roses in his hands. Trey had pictured this moment so differently: Rosette’s stunned—then starry—expression and her delighted words, and then he would apologize and tell her he loved her.
All those words raced out the window. Guilt rushed in. He could see the same look in Leena’s eyes as he saw in Rosette’s. They were both wondering—are those for me?
It didn’t make any sense. He mentally kicked himself and smiled at Rosette.
“I didn’t forget a date, did I?” she asked, rising, giving a nervous laugh. This moment was supposed to be emotional. Healing. But instead she was faking it.
“No, I just wanted to get these for you.” He waited until she glanced down again to add, “Hello, Leena.” Trey monitored his voice, wondering how much his tone revealed, but he knew it would speak even louder if he completely ignored her presence.
Rosette walked close and leaned in to smell the flowers, and when she glanced up, it was a real smile on her face and real warmth in her eyes. Maybe the plan hadn’t gone completely to hell.
“I can put them in a vase for you,” he said, nodding toward the baby in her arms. Hope was waking up and making squirmy noises. He bent to kiss her little head. “Good morning, Hope.”
She looked at him with clear blue eyes, full of trust, recognizing his voice. Love ballooned in his chest so fast he sucked in a breath.
How had he missed it before? This was the first time he saw himself and his wife with a new baby, looking like a family. Unexpected, but real.
Confusion flooded in, pulling guilt behind it. This was Ricky’s child.
He retreated to the kitchen, blinking his stinging eyes, and dug around in the cupboards for the big glass vase. While trying to keep his mind blank, it hit him. Hadn’t he been longing to feel something again? Now emotions were hitting him like the powerful waves out on the jetty, over and over. Is this what he had been hoping for?
He put the roses in the vase and headed upstairs, throwing a very quick and neutral smile at Rosette and Leena in the living room, not wanting to look like he was sneaking by. He stayed upstairs until he heard Leena leave.
Even then, Rosette didn’t come up right away. Trey paced and overanalyzed things. Maybe Rosette hadn’t seen the look on Leena’s face. He hoped Rosette was admiring the roses and not stewing. Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairs. She walked into the bedroom slowly, expecting him to be there, he could tell. He motioned for her to come over, and they sat down on the bed side by side, close enough that their shoulders touched.
“Thank you for the roses,” she said gently.
“I wanted to give them to you and to say I love you.” He felt those words bloom into the air, full of memories, private jokes, secret minutes spent together. It’d been a while since they’d spoken those words. Rosette turned her head, and he thought he saw the sunlight catching a tear running down her cheek.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was soft and airy. At first he misunderstood—he hadn’t said “I love you” because they’d been fighting for so long. Then he realized what she meant. She had noticed something downstairs.
How could she have, he wondered, when there hadn’t been anything there with Leena? It was… well, he wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it wasn’t anything he wanted. He pulled in a breath, trying to form an answer, but he couldn’t. He exhaled a slow, defeated breath.
“Trey?” she asked, turning her face halfway toward him. “How did you know?”
Now she wasn’t talking about Leena. He knew her so well he could follow her wandering train of thoughts, and yet he couldn’t reach out and touch her like he wanted to. “I was walking to the kitchen and saw…” How should he phrase it? “I saw Ricky kiss you.” Honestly, he’d spent at least six years wondering if Ricky had leaned in to kiss Rosette, or if she had made the first move, or if they had both reached for the other. Maybe it was one kiss among many they’d shared over the years, or maybe there wasn’t any more to it. In the daylight, he could dismiss all that, but at night he wondered.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew, before now?”
He laughed, a hollow, hurt noise that revealed much more than he meant to.
“It’s just,” she paused, lifting her palms and dropping them again. “I feel like you’ve been laughing at me all this time, knowing and not telling me.”
“Me, laughing at you?”
She finally turned to look him in the eye. She was crying, the tears piling up and rolling down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it happened at all.”
“You asked why I didn’t tell you I knew, but why didn’t you tell me it happened?” He thought of all the times he’d almost asked about it. Trey had watched Ricky and Rosette closely after that, and thought about his marriage with Rosette…they had been in love then, happy, so he’d never asked about the kiss with Ricky.
“I couldn’t. I don’t know how or why it happened. We were just laughing. I think we were both a little drunk. Then, suddenly, he kissed me. I honestly don’t know who started it. It was only that one night, I swear, and Ricky and I never even mentioned it after that.” She smoothed the back of her hand over her cheek, wiping the tears. “Is it Leena?” she asked suddenly.
“No!” He answered without even thinking, speaking a kind of guttural truth…but one that wasn’t what Rosette would consider the complete truth.
She looked at him, surprised, confused, hurt, and relieved all at the same time. “It’s not Leena?”
“There isn’t anyone else. Just you.”
Rosette pulled in a shaky breath and nodded, but he wasn’t sure if she believed him. They heard Alex calling for her downstairs. There was a
certain tone in his voice—like the way he would call out when he was little, when he was scared or had had a nightmare.
The third time he called, they both jumped up. Rosette followed Trey out the bedroom door and down the stairs.
Alex was halfway up the stairs. “Summer called. She needs help. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s not making sense and she’s crying.”
Trey asked, “You think she’s drinking?” They hadn’t discussed it, but all of them knew Summer had a drinking problem before Amanda died.
“She… might be,” Alex answered.
“I’ll go get her,” Rosette said. Trey put a hand on her forearm, stopping her. “Trey, she might need another woman to talk to.”
“All right.” He dropped his hand. “I’ll check the fifth wheel for alcohol.”
“I don’t think she’s been drinking here,” Alex said. Trey was surprised to hear that from him and looked at him, curious.
“I’ll still check, just in case.”
Rosette hurried down the stairs, avoiding Trey’s eyes. It stung, and made him wonder if he had imagined they were making progress. Didn’t she trust him? Then again, why would she trust him?
~ ~ ~
Rosette called Summer as she worriedly headed down the road.
“Where are you?”
“Hi Rosette…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” Summer spoke in a slightly slurred voice like reality was crowding back in and gradually clearing her head.
“Where are you?” Rosette repeated. Summer listed the buildings around her instead of a street or address, but Rosette knew where to go. It was over by the strip mall. “Okay, we’ll talk when I get there.” She didn’t feel like talking now. Besides that, Trey must have taken the hands-free speaker out of this car, and she didn’t believe in risking a wreck by talking on the phone or texting.
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