His Only Wife

by Melissa Brown

  “Try to look on the bright side,” Tiffany said, finally feeling her heartbeat slow to a normal rate. “You two are young, there’s plenty of time. You can save up for it.”

  “I have been. But I wanted…” He paused, staring at his car before pushing against the door frame in frustration. “I wanted to get her something bigger, something really perfect.”

  Tiffany’s heart warmed as he said those words. “That’s so sweet.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just have to get her a shitty ring. A shitty ring from a shitty guy.”

  “That’s not true. You’re just disappointed.”

  “Whatever.” He shook his head, still avoiding her stare.

  Tiffany knew she was making him terribly uncomfortable, and a voice inside her urged her to mind her own business, to walk down the street to the clinic and leave Porter to figure things out for himself. But she couldn’t do that.

  “I have some money saved up, you could—”

  Porter closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth with force. “No. I mean, thanks, but no. I need to do this on my own. I just wish I could give her everything, ya know?”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  He looked up, glaring back at the bank. His voice cracked as he stared at the brick building. “And I wish those assholes would’ve given me a chance. I wish this world would just give me a fucking chance. That’s all I want. Just a chance.”

  “I get it.”

  Porter shook her off at first, then turned his head toward her. Their eyes locked. “Yeah, I guess you do, don’t you?”

  Kindred spirits since the day they met—two kids who left the compound—she and Porter understood each other in a way that others never could. They understood the desire, no—the need to make it on their own, to do things their own way, and to escape the controlling influence of the compound. Porter had to know she understood. If anyone did, it was her.

  She offered him a weak smile in solidarity. “It’s all going to work out. I just know it.”

  Porter nodded before saying a quick good-bye and climbing into his car.

  Tiffany jogged to the clinic, determined to beat the clock. But as she settled into her job, her thoughts turned back to Porter, knowing that if he went to all this trouble to purchase a ring for Brinley only to be met with a resounding no, he’d surely fall off the wagon.

  That would be it for Porter Hammond; she could feel it in her bones. But it wasn’t her place to intervene, as much as she wanted to.

  Was it?

  Chapter 7

  Brinley

  After living in such a controlled, confined community, you would think that I would have developed a thick skin to the world around me. After all, I spent years taking orders from Leandra and Lehi, two of the coldest human beings I’d yet to encounter. While “married” to Lehi Cluff, I was given all sorts of orders, restrictions, and rules. You’d think I’d be impervious to disappointment and bad news, that I would have constructed some sort of wall around my heart to protect me from the bad.

  But it didn’t matter. Because in this new world in which I lived, I was starting over. I was free, but with freedom came infinite possibilities. And some of those possibilities led to disappointment.

  “It’s what?” My voice came out in a squeak, but I couldn’t help it. I could feel my heart breaking at Porter’s news.

  “Closing. This weekend is its last.” He wrinkled his nose and rubbed the back of his neck as he studied me. “My boss told me this morning. They’re tearing it down to build an enormous shopping center.”

  Our place was closing, that dilapidated and run-down drive-in movie theater, and as silly as it was, I was devastated. Tears gathered in my eyes, and even my embarrassment didn’t stop them from accumulating.

  Porter pulled me into his strong arms. “I’m sorry, Brin. I know you love that place.”

  “Because it’s our place. Aren’t you upset?” I wiped my eyes, feeling foolish. “I feel like someone just punched me in the gut.”

  “Of course I am. But we’ll find another one, even if we have to drive a ways.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to begin his search.

  I knew he was exhausted from his day on the job site; I knew I should let him put his feet up and relax. But I couldn’t let it go. My heartache was consuming my every thought.

  “But you said they’re few and far between. How will we find one?”

  “I’ll make it happen, I promise.” He threaded his fingers through my hair, which soothed me. For something like this to cause so much anxiety, so much sadness, was definitely an overreaction, but all I could think about was that first night with Clark Gable and the salty popcorn.

  My maternal instinct wasn’t a dominating force within me. But when I thought about the future, I saw us in the bed of the truck, snuggled up with our two young children, watching an animated movie or two before the little ones passed out in our arms. I saw it as our place through all the stages of our lives, as crazy as that might have been to do.

  “We should go this weekend. One last time.” Porter’s fingers brushed against the screen of the phone. “They’re running all the Harry Potter movies. You’ve been wanting to see those forever, babe.”

  “All of them? Won’t we be up all night?”

  “Who cares? We’ll help ’em go out with a bang.” He shrugged and a grin spread across his handsome face.

  I ran my hand down his light scruffy beard and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re so good to me. Why don’t you take a shower before dinner? You’re covered in sawdust.”

  Porter glanced down at his dirty hooded sweatshirt. “Good idea.”

  While steam billowed its way into the hallway, I picked up the phone and dialed Tiffany’s number. I hadn’t heard from her in weeks and needed to make sure she was all right. She answered just as her machine picked up.

  “Hey.” Her voice sounded distant, upset, almost monotone, which was odd. Tiffany was bubbly; she never spoke in a monotone.

  “Hey, everything okay?”

  “Yep, mm-hmm.” Her voice was abrupt, and I knew she was anything but okay.

  “Tiff?” My voice trembled slightly as I racked my brain, trying to pinpoint when and where I might have done something to cause this tension. “I haven’t heard from you in so long.”

  “Work is a nightmare. I’m thinking of applying somewhere else.”

  I took that statement and ran with it, determined to stretch it into an actual conversation where I could read her better. “Where? Like at the hospital? You’d be even closer to us.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  An awkward silence stretched out before I said, “Tiff, talk to me. You’re making me nervous.”

  She huffed into the phone. “It’s nothing, Brinley. Seriously. Listen, I have to go. We’ll chat soon.”

  The click on the line was distinct and decisive. Tiffany had no interest in talking to me. But why?

  I walked to the bathroom door, knocking on it as I pushed it open. Steam enveloped me as I entered the room.

  “Babe, would you be terribly upset if I went out for a bit?”

  “No,” Porter said as he turned off the shower. “But what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “I need to go to Tiffany’s place. She’s acting weird, and I want to make sure she’s all right.”

  Abruptly, he pulled the shower curtain open, an odd scowl on his handsome face. “Tiffany?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  He swallowed hard and grabbed a towel from the bar. “Nothing, go ahead. Be safe, all right?”

  “Of course.” I kissed him quickly on the lips before heading to the kitchen and grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. “I won’t be gone too long. Pizza’s in the oven. Save me a slice, okay?”

  “You got it.” He smiled at me from the bathroom door, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were solemn, concerned.

  Maybe he was worried
about Tiffany too. They’d always had a strong connection; with similar personalities, they seemed to understand each other. In any case, I was grateful for his support, and for the keys to the truck.

  • • •

  Tiffany’s eyes widened when she opened the door of her apartment. Her building was security conscious; normally she would have had to buzz me in. But I’d avoided that by assisting her neighbors as they carried in several bags of groceries.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Brinley, you shouldn’t have driven all this way. I’m fine.” She stepped back, allowing me in.

  Slowly, I walked to the couch and made myself comfortable, hoping she wasn’t upset with me. But if she was, I just wanted an opportunity to apologize, to make things right.

  “I can tell you’re upset about something, and if it’s me, then I’m begging you to tell me. Just tell me what I did wrong.”

  She threw her head back, and I could feel her annoyance from across the room. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything, I swear.”

  “Then what is it? Is it Darcy? Are things really that bad at work?”

  She shrugged and joined me on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around them. “No, they’re fine. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  “Please.” Her eyes locked with mine, begging for some sort of understanding that I couldn’t wrap my mind around. “Brinley, stop. It’s not my place.”

  “Not your place?” I raised my eyebrows, encouraging her to go on, but she merely leaned her elbow on her knee and pressed her fingertips into her forehead. “What are you talking about?”

  “Okay, fine.” She let out a deep sigh. “Remember a few months ago? In the boutique?”

  “Um, I think so.” I searched my brain, trying to pinpoint which shopping trip she was referring to.

  “You bought that blanket. You know, the one for the drive-in?”

  “Oh.” The events of that day came into focus as I remembered my slight panic attack. Months later, I still felt silly about that reaction, no matter how genuine it might have been. “What about it?”

  Tiffany stared off into space, slowing shaking her head back and forth. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Be careful, Brin.”

  “What are you talking about? Is this about Lehi? Have you—” Panic roared through me. “Have you seen someone from the compound? From that family?”

  “No. I mean, yeah, I see people from the compound. They come into the clinic from time to time. But no, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “You’re confusing me.”

  “I just want you to think about your future, about what you want, what you need. I want you to be happy, truly happy. And I want you to do what’s best for you.”

  I scrunched my nose in confusion. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I get that, but why are you acting so weird? You’re avoiding me, I know it.”

  “I’m trying to stay neutral, that’s all.”

  “Neutral? About what?”

  She popped up from the couch and began to pace the floor. “Do you love him? Truly love him?”

  Adrenaline shot through my belly.

  Oh no.

  Tiffany knew something, something Porter had done, something bad. Possibly something life-changing.

  “Of course I do.” My voice cracked and my hands shook. “I love him more than anything.”

  She sighed, looking relieved, and returned to the couch. “Then think about what you want. Think about everything, Brinley. Promise me you’ll do that.”

  “Did Porter do something? Do you…do you know something? Did he…” I couldn’t even form the words. But my imagination went wild, picturing Porter with a faceless woman, a woman with her lips pressed to his, her legs wrapped around his waist. And my stomach flipped at the thought.

  No, he wouldn’t do that. Not after everything we’d been through.

  Tiffany shook her head vehemently. “No, absolutely not. That’s not what I’m saying. God, I wish you could just realize what I’m saying.”

  “I wish you would just tell me, and end this suspense. I can’t take it, Tiffany. You’re making me doubt the man I love, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “Fine.” She wiped away her tears and met my eyes. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  Chapter 8

  Porter

  I hardly ever thought about Ron Hammond. Not anymore.

  And when I did, I didn’t think of him as my father. Not really. I had my moments, usually when I’d just woken from a deep, dream-filled sleep. You know those vivid dreams that you can’t shake for hours after opening your eyes? Usually Ron was the star of those dreams. I was a dumb tow-headed kid begging for his attention, his acceptance, his love. And most times, the dream ended in pain.

  Since meeting Jesse, those dreams were much less frequent. And the more time I spent with Jesse, the less time I spent thinking of the man who was supposed to guide me during times like these. The monumental times. The important moments and milestones that mattered most.

  Like the proposal I was planning.

  I had a clear-cut plan. Well, I hoped I had a plan. But executing that plan could be tricky. It was vivid in my head, but I wasn’t sure I had everything I needed to make it a reality.

  I had the ring. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to present her with, but it would do. For now, anyway. One day, I knew I’d earn enough money to replace the stones, to give her something she’d be proud to wear on her finger. It would just take some time.

  I bought a new set of plain white bed sheets from the bedding store. I borrowed clips and anchors from my boss. But the final piece—the most important piece of the puzzle—seemed to be nothing but an idea in my head. That is, until I spoke to Jesse.

  “You’re kidding? They sell them in stores?” I asked in disbelief. “And you’re not messing with me?”

  He shook his head. “Not messing with you, kid. They exist.”

  Jesse and I were finishing up our weekly check-in at the coffee shop in town. Once he became my sponsor, he suggested seeing each other outside of our meetings, feeling it was important that we could talk in private, away from all the other people who intimidated me.

  I always felt like I couldn’t live up to those who’d mastered this damn program. Those without relapses. Those who’d conquered all of their shit. I wasn’t one of them, and wasn’t sure I could ever be, but Jesse told me otherwise. He had a way of making me feel more confident in myself without cramming it down my throat. He believed in me, even though sometimes I wasn’t sure why.

  He stood and grabbed his jacket from the chair. “C’mon, there’s an electronics store around the corner. I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Cool.” I chugged the last sips of my coffee before chucking the cup in the nearest garbage can.

  Jesse ushered me into the store to prove to me that the piece of machinery I needed to complete my plan was, in fact, a reality and not just an idea in my seemingly inventive head. However, when I saw the price tag, I wanted to scream, feeling myself drowning again in my own bad luck.

  He cleared his throat. “What’s the matter?”

  I huffed, running my fingers through my hair in defeat as I stared at the blue carpet of the store, wishing I could crawl into a fucking hole. “I can’t afford it, man. I spent everything I had on the ring, that pathetic excuse for a ring.”

  Jesse nodded, his hands shoved into his pockets. I knew he had no idea what the hell to say to my pitiful ass. Silently I wondered if I’d ever make this man proud of me, or if he’d always see me at my worst, my most vulnerable.

  “You love this girl?”

  His question shocked me. If there was one thing I thought Jesse knew, it was that I loved Brinley more than humanly possible.

  “What? Of course I do, what do you—”

  He gripped my shoulders and met my eyes, the lines in his forehead deeper than I�
�d seen them in ages. “It’s on me, Chief.”

  “No.” I shrugged his hands away. “I can’t let you do that, no way. I do this on my own, or I don’t do it at all.”

  “It’s a gift.” He shrugged, trying to sound casual. But there was nothing casual about giving someone a piece of equipment that cost $500. Nothing at all, and we both knew it.

  “Audrey will kill you.”

  He smiled, exposing one of his missing teeth. “Let me worry about my wife. She’s a romantic, and I’m 100% certain this is a cause she’d get behind.”

  “And what cause is that?” Last time I’d checked, broke ex-junkies weren’t exactly a cause.

  “Young love.” He rubbed his goatee. “You forget, she and I were young once too. And we remember what it’s like—trying to make it on your own, to prove to the world you don’t need anyone’s help. No one but each other.”

  I shifted my weight back and forth and felt his eyes on me, as if he could see inside my head.

  “Am I right?” he asked.

  I nodded, breaking eye contact, embarrassed that he knew me as well as he did.

  “Let me do this for you, Chief. It’ll do my soul some good.”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head, pursing my lips as I crammed my hands in my pockets and paced the aisle. “I’m not gonna get high.”

  “What?”

  “You know, I just—I don’t want you to think that’s what I’ll do. If this doesn’t happen.”

  “Of course not.” He looked away briefly, and I knew.

  That was exactly what he was thinking. He was trying to save me from a relapse. He knew how much hinged on my proposal to Brin, knew I wanted to make it perfect for her. At least, as perfect as I was capable. And he was afraid I’d self-destruct if I couldn’t make it happen.

  I didn’t bother to confront Jesse’s motivations; I knew what he’d say. He’d deny it, he’d tell me that no gift would stop me from getting high if that was the road I was taking. But I couldn’t help it. My gut told me the opposite, and that was a hard pill to swallow. Would I always be a junkie, only one step from the edge of a relapse? Was that the life that was ahead of me? And was it fair to drag Brin through that?