I rummaged through my closet for a more sensible dress. I settled on one of pale yellow with a scoop neck and fitted waist. I looked nice, more like the wife of the owner of a successful landscaping business and less like a hooker on the street corner.
I heard Matt’s truck in the driveway and peered out the window. He ducked into the garage and a moment later backed out my Mercedes. I watched him exit the car and walk to the side door. He wore khakis and a gray dress shirt with a pale-blue tie that really would have matched the black dress better than the yellow. He looked toward our bedroom window. My heart threatened to leap from my chest and out the second-floor window to fall at his feet. I lifted my hand, but he mustn’t have seen me because he continued toward the house.
I glanced in the mirror one last time, scooped up my purse, and jogged lightly down the stairs.
Once again, Matt stood at the kitchen counter shuffling through bills. I could pay them, but it had always been his job, something he’d liked to do.
“Hi.” I took a bottle of water from the fridge.
He glanced up. “Hey, you look nice.”
A far cry from the wolf-whistles I used to get when I dressed up to go out with him, but I’d take it. “You too.” He’d spiked his cropped hair with gel. The spicy scent of his cologne—the same he’d worn since high school—combined with that of his aftershave to bring back a million memories I couldn’t think of now lest I smudge my mascara. I pushed them down. “Ready?”
“Yup. I’ll grab a water too.” He moved near me to get to the fridge and I stood frozen, aware of his nearness, the knot of his tie at eye level.
I remembered the last time we’d had sex, just two days before he stood at our mantel and announced his desire for a separation. I certainly hadn’t been able to tell his want to be apart from me that particular night. He’d been gentle and giving as always, intent and relentless.
His breaths fanned my forehead and he looked down at me. I felt the attraction between us, tugging us closer, drawing us with invisible force. Every fiber of my being ached for his nearness. I knew he wanted to kiss me, though I couldn’t be certain of his reasons—because he missed me or because we hadn’t been together in a month and he, like I, hurt physically from the separation. Or maybe a combination of both.
The bedroom was one place we never argued, one thing we had in common. Our passion for each other never dwindled for long. Sure, there were occasional dry spells or arguments that got in the way, but we’d usually find common ground in the physical act of love.
If he kissed me, we’d end up in the bedroom, late for the dinner. Matt was never late. I waited, anticipating the light pressure of his lips on mine, his arms around me in possessive gentleness.
He dipped his head. It took every ounce of willpower not to bury my face in his hard chest and seek the solace of his strong, familiar arms.
We weren’t meant to be apart. Couldn’t he feel it as much as I could?
“We’re going to be late.” His minty breath floated to mine. I moved aside. It appeared spearmint was the only taste I’d get of my husband tonight.
He led me out of the house and opened the passenger door. I slid in. The leather cooled my legs, the interior chilled from the car sitting in the garage all day.
In five minutes we sped along the highway.
“How’s Kyle?”
“Good, but I think he’s realizing he doesn’t want to follow in my footsteps.”
“You okay with that?”
Matt shrugged. “The last thing I wanted at his age was for someone to tell me what to do with the next fifty years of my life. I’m giving him space to think.”
I grabbed my left hand with my right one to keep it from reaching out and touching him. “You’re a good father, Matt.” He seemed uncomfortable with the comment, so I plowed on. “His birthday’s next week. You two want to come back home and we can celebrate? I mean, for the day of course.” Or forever. Forever would be nice.
“Got another crew starting the golf course around then. It’s going to be tough to get away. Maybe we can cook on the grill and you can bring a cake down to our place?”
Our place? This conversation had about ten thousand things wrong with it, but the fact that “our place” didn’t include “my place” stuck harder than the rest. I didn’t voice my thoughts. “Sure, whatever works for you guys.”
“You can talk to Kyle about it tonight. He’s meeting us there.”
“Good.” At least I’d have someone to talk to at the dinner, assuming my teenager wanted to hang with his mom.
Matt veered onto Route 24 and I studied the billowing clouds on the horizon. Looked like rain. From the speakers, Johnny Cash sang out, “I Walk the Line.”
“How’s the extra hours going?”
I considered it a plus that he remembered. “Good. Busy, but good.”
I wanted him to ask me more, indicate he cared somehow. He was silent.
“I’m thinking about going back to school.” I regretted the words once they were out, knew they were a cry for attention, a cry for him to show a sign that he cared about something in my life.
A tick started in his clean-shaven jaw. “What? Why?”
My stomach trembled. “I’ve always wanted to become an NP . . .”
“You’re serious.”
I’d shared this dream with him before, I knew I had. More than likely, he hadn’t been listening, or hadn’t taken me seriously. I couldn’t help but think of Pete in that moment, hanging on my every word about Barb and Elizabeth’s journal. Anger swirled in my belly, though I couldn’t be sure if it was at Matt or at myself for thinking of another man when I finally did have time with my husband.
“Yes, though at this point it’s only a thought. Nothing’s definite—”
“I’m just wondering why you think now is a good time to do this? And how do you think we’re going to pay for it?”
My defenses rose. I didn’t need his permission. And if he’d been around, he would have known of Barb and all she’d left me and my desire to do something meaningful with it. “I have my own means.”
He raised his eyebrows, gave a derisive snort. “Do you now? Well I sure as Sam would like to know how you came upon your own means.”
The Mercedes sped up as we drove over the Sakonnet River Bridge. Puffs of white sails dotted the bay, gliding free over the sparkling waters.
“Barb left me with some money.” I whispered the words, trying not to add gasoline to an already growing fire.
“Oh.” The fight seemed to leave him. “That was . . . nice. Well, go for it then, I guess.”
He sounded as if he didn’t care. Or as if he’d just given me his permission, as though I needed it.
“I wasn’t going to apply without talking to you.” My voice lost its fight, too. I didn’t want to argue with him, especially tonight.
“It’s okay, Sarah. Forget it.”
Right. Like that would happen.
We drove through Portsmouth and Middletown, and I questioned him about his jobs and golf. Safe topics. We drove by Easton’s Beach in Newport. The lifeguard stands stood empty, the crowd thinned. I would have loved for us to pull over, disregard the dinner, and walk on the beach or the Cliff Walk together. Forget our differences, forget our arguments, forget everyone and everything but us.
Matt kept driving.
“You and Kyle are around here, right?” I asked.
Matt pointed to a quaint summer cottage off Memorial Boulevard. “Right there.”
Flowerboxes hung on the windows and a small porch with two rockers cozied up to the left part of the first floor.
“Walking distance to the beach. Nice.” And he worried how much school would cost.
“Yeah. Maybe we can go on Kyle’s birthday.”
He was trying. I had to give him credit for that.
We drove past Bellevue Avenue and down the hill until we turned onto America’s Cup Avenue for parking. Matt grabbed the parking ticket and found a spot c
lose to the entrance. The billowing clouds I’d seen earlier weren’t in sight near the water. The sun made its way toward the horizon. Beautiful...romantic even.
“Where’s your ring?”
My blood ran cold. I’d completely forgotten that Lorna’s plain ring adorned my finger, not the sparkling rocks Matt loved so much.
“I—I switched to this one for the hospital. I didn’t want to dirty the others.” The lie tasted like ashes in my mouth. How were Matt and I to work toward healing when I couldn’t even muster the truth? I promised myself I’d tell him later. Now wasn’t the right time, before his employee dinner. He’d be too upset. The lie was for his own good, really.
His mouth pulled into a tight line. “I wish you would have worn the others for tonight.”
“Sorry.” I was sorry I couldn’t give him what he wanted. Shiny wife, shiny rings. Instead I felt more than a little lackluster, much like Lorna’s ring.
I didn’t wait for him to open the door for me. We walked toward Thames Street. When we neared The Red Parrot, he grabbed my hand. I savored the feel of his fingers in mine.
Even if it was only for show.
Chapter 16
Matt and I walked up the two flights of stairs to the uppermost floor, which he’d reserved for his employees. A mix of men and women milled about. I allowed Matt to weave me in and out of wooden columns, wait staff, tinkling glasses, and high-heeled shoes, grateful for his guidance in this sea of faces I saw only once a year.
He stopped and talked to several couples and a handful of men. He slapped them on the back, encouraged them to grab another drink at the bar on the floor below, bantered back and forth about the clients or the lawns that wouldn’t stay moist, the flowers that wanted to droop in this hell-inspired heat. I waited by his side, my hand now sweaty in his, for my cue. The line that meant I was expected to step up and play my part.
“You know my wife Sarah, don’t you?”
Or the occasional awkward hug from one of Matt’s longtime employees. “Sarah! You look wonderful. How are you?”
I had all the right answers, of course. Subtle answers. Answers that brushed past the fact that my marriage was in trouble. I complimented the dresses of the women, smiled and listened to the men, ignored the suffocating smells of too-strong colognes and perfumes mixed into one overwhelming scent.
I didn’t despise these people. They were good people. Hard workers. They helped Matt’s business succeed. He appreciated them, and so did I.
But I despised the performance. Just once, I wanted to fling it off and be the real Sarah, whoever that was.
Then I saw one face in the corner I wouldn’t have to perform for. He sat with two other young men his age, a smile on his face, his gaze glued to his parents’ joined hands, hope written on every corner of his expression.
I released Matt’s hand and walked over to Kyle. He rose, shuffled around occupied seats, and gave me a hug. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, yourself. I sure missed you,” I whispered into his ear.
“I miss you, too.” He pulled from my embrace. “This is Doug and Blaine, guys I work with.”
The two young men stood and I shook their hands. They went back to a conversation, and I sat with Kyle on the other side, facing the crowd of people in front of the large fireplace at the other end of the room.
“I thought you might not come,” Kyle said. Gel slicked his hair. He sported a tan that must have made the girls on the beach go wild. This was not a time in his life I wanted to miss, and yet that was exactly what was happening.
“Your dad wanted me to. I couldn’t say no to him.” I turned my full attention on my son. “You look good. I think the hard work agrees with you.”
He shrugged. “Thanks. Only I got the meanest farmer’s tan this side of Idaho.”
I laughed. “You having any fun outside of work?”
“Dad’s taken me golfing a few times. I walk down to the beach at night, hang out with some kids. You know, mess around.”
Were any almost-seventeen-year-old boys more vague with their mothers?
I looked to where I had left Matt talking to a couple other guys. He wasn’t there anymore. I spotted him with one of his foremen in front of the fireplace. He stood with his hand held up, behind a woman’s back. I couldn’t tell if he actually touched her, or if it was one of those invisible touches he sometimes did when introducing people.
All I knew was that the woman was wearing the black dress I bought yesterday. And while I may have looked desperate and overdressed in the shimmering piece of cloth, she looked sophisticated and confident. And from the shape of her legs, she was either a runner or closer to Kyle’s age than Matt’s. Maybe both. She turned slightly and leaned into the side of the staircase railing, one high-heeled shoe dangling off her tilted leg.
She was gorgeous and young—mid-twenties probably—dark-blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. She reminded me of Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield from the Sweet Valley High book series I read as a teenager.
I wracked my brain for who she could be. Matt had a secretary and a landscape architect, but she was neither.
I tilted my head in Matt’s direction, tried to keep my voice casual. “Who’s your dad with?”
Kyle leaned to the side to get a better view. “Oh.” His face reddened. Did my son have a crush on this woman? “She’s Cassie Waterman. You know, the Waterman mansion we’re working on? That’s their daughter.”
I fidgeted with my purse, still in my lap. “I didn’t think your father invited clients to these dinners.”
“He usually doesn’t. But he hit it off with the Watermans. They’re nice, Mom. Not snotty like you might think.”
I wanted to ask more, but Matt blew a shrill whistle. “If we can all find our seats, I think the wait staff is ready for us.”
Couples filled in the many tables scattered through the large room. Outside, the sun cast red streaks on Newport Harbor.
Matt ushered the Waterman girl over, her dress swinging and clinging to her generous curves. An older couple walked on Matt’s other side. The woman wore a string of pearls and an elegant baby blue dress that fell just below her knees. The man stood tall and lean with streaks of gray in his hair. They must have been in their early fifties, but they pulled off a youthful wisdom and elegance I found intimidating.
“That’s the Watermans,” Kyle whispered from my side.
When they arrived at our table, I stood.
“Elise and Troy, I want you to meet my wife, Sarah.”
I held out my hand and tried to remember to give a warm smile and firm grip, conscious of my sweaty palm. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“And this is their daughter, Cassie.”
I slipped my hand into Cassie’s cool one. Her blue eyes found mine. They sparkled beneath the chandeliers. It wasn’t hard to see why my son had a crush on her.
“So nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Really? Had Matt spoken well of me despite the strain in our marriage?
“Please, sit.” Matt sat at my side. Cassie found his other.
In moments the wait staff poured water, set out bread, and served us baby Caesar salads. I placed my napkin in my lap and picked up my fork. Elise Waterman waited for my first bite to enter my mouth before she spoke, her attention directed at me.
“Your husband is an absolute genius when it comes to landscape design, Sarah. But of course you must already know that. The pool is Troy’s favorite, but the path to our waterfront is mine. I absolutely can’t get enough of hydrangeas and boxwoods.”
She assumed I was familiar with their plans. Probably thought my husband talked to me on a regular basis. Go figure.
I finished my bite hastily before replying. “It sounds lovely.”
“You’ll have to come and see it for yourself, sometime.” Cassie lifted a champagne glass to her lips. “Maybe we can all play a round of golf. You two can come over for a swim.”
I didn’t appreciate Matt�
��s obvious chuckle. “Sarah doesn’t golf. I don’t think she knows the difference between a driver and a seven-iron, do you honey?”
Light laughter floated across the table. Cassie’s tinkled like delicate wind chimes. A thin line of sweat trickled down the center of my chest, and I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin. I tried to think of a witty response, but it was all I could do to stay in my seat and not run out of the restaurant like a baby, unable to bear being the butt of a joke.
“Well, maybe a ride on the yacht then?” Cassie said.
Strike two. I rushed to answer before Matt could comment on my fear of open water. “That sounds nice.”
Matt gulped his water. He never drank alcohol, even at social events. He once told me it was because he wound up on the wrong side of too many whiskeys growing up with Lorna’s boyfriends.
“Mom, Cassie’s a doctor.” Kyle stepped in, likely out of pity. “You guys would probably have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m not quite a doctor yet.” Cassie spoke to me. “I’m still in residency. Do you work in the medical field, Sarah?”
“I’m a nurse,” I said. The profession I’d been proud of until now somehow seemed less than adequate in this company. And yet when I’d expressed interest in becoming more, Matt hadn’t been exactly encouraging.
He must have been thinking the same thing. “Sarah’s thinking about going back to school to become a nurse practitioner.”
Elise’s eyes lit up. “Is that so? Well, that’s a fine endeavor, isn’t it, Troy?”
Troy put down his Coors. “Never a shortage of good NPs out there.”
“Thanks. I—it’s a little intimidating at this stage in my life, but I think I’d like to go for it.”
“Oh, you should.” Cassie broke open her roll. “You’re still so young. You should do it now, before it’s too late.”
If I was still young, I wonder what age qualified as “too late.”
I thanked Cassie for her encouragement. She really did seem sweet. I could almost like her if she didn’t sit so close to my husband, if her arm didn’t brush his every time she padded her bread with butter, if my son didn’t stare at her from across the table as if the sun and moon hung on every word that came forth from her pouty, perfect mouth.
The Edge of Mercy Page 12