The Husband Lesson

by Jeanie London

  More kicking. More running. More cheering. She performed admirably, and everyone seemed willing to forgive that she was the very reason they were outside melting in the growing heat. Karan was on third base when she sensed him.

  Why she would even be aware of him was a mystery. The man was a memory from a long-ago, painful past, one she’d rather not dwell on in her present. But she was so aware. No point denying it. She could practically sense him the second his Jeep pulled into the parking lot, felt as if she was on display as he walked around the building. He was not happy. It was all over him, from the long, no-nonsense strides to the stony expression on his face.

  No surprises there.

  He was still dressed for fishing, wearing worn jeans and dirty deck shoes that looked damp. And stank, no doubt. Unfortunately for her, he might look unsavory, but the jeans still rode low on his hips and the T-shirt didn’t do much to conceal the impressively muscled chest and rock-hard abs below. No need to ask if he still worked out regularly.

  His gaze skimmed across her, and for some reason Karan couldn’t possibly explain, her breath caught in her throat, a physical reaction despite the scowl on his face.

  Her saving grace came when the game came to an abrupt halt as several of the key players recognized Charles. Both the therapist and the nurse left their posts to greet him.

  Karan detected the faint odor of fish as he passed, not acknowledging her at all. Rude man. They’d been married for over four years. The least he could do was acknowledge her presence.

  But there was also a tiny part of her, deep down inside, that was so relieved he didn’t. She hated responding to him against her will. This man had proven to be heartache underneath the shiny wrapping, and he seemed to enjoy breaking hearts if the way he lived his life was any indication.

  Besides, she wasn’t fit to interact with him on equal grounds right now when every inch of her felt sticky and her summery pantsuit was a wrinkled mess. The sun might be making her bra cling uncomfortably to her skin but it hadn’t managed to dry the dew on the grass. No, she would not look at her shoes.

  Charles powwowed with Elizabeth, the nurse and Deputy Doug before heading inside with the deputy. Karan suspected they were inspecting the place because the firefighters disappeared inside again and no one returned for a good ten minutes.

  The moms made a valiant effort to keep the game going, but once the firefighters reappeared, the kids were more interested in seeing the fire trucks drive off.

  Finally. Air-conditioning beckoned, and Karan went to stand on the gallery in the shade while awaiting official word they could go inside before she wound up smelling worse than Charles. Fingers crossed he wouldn’t hang around long. No doubt the fish were eagerly awaiting his return.

  Luck wasn’t on her side. Really. The fire chief thanked everyone for their cooperation and took off himself. Everyone eagerly filed inside, but Charles chose then to address her.

  “A moment of your time, please,” he said.

  Cody swept past, looking mildly regretful, as if she’d been called into the principal’s office. He might feel bad for her, but he had no intention of joining her.

  Cody’s eyes widened when he stepped inside and he made an exaggerated gagging sound. “You sure it’s okay to be in here? I feel brain cells dying.”

  “Ugh,” Bryce chimed in. “I won’t ever eat popcorn again.”

  Amy narrowed her gaze and shut them both down with a look.

  Karan didn’t say a word. She only tried not to gag on the charred air. But horrible though it smelled, it was blessedly cool. The uncomfortable feeling of cotton clinging to clammy skin quickly abated.

  She accompanied Charles, resisting the urge to talk for no reason other than to hear something other than this silence between them, a silence that left her all too aware of how the past was scrambling into the present. She had nothing to say to him yet the simple act of walking together felt familiar and natural as though years hadn’t passed since they’d stood in front of a judge in a divorce court.

  And that awareness.

  She hoped he felt it, too. A lot more than she did. Would serve him right.

  Karan’s hopes for a private discussion were dashed when he led her toward the scene of the crime.

  One look at the microwave, door hanging wide to reveal the blackened interior of what had been a new piece of equipment, made her wince.

  “I’m sorry.” There, she got that out of the way. It was only fair. However rude this man might choose to be, the simple fact was he—along with everyone else around here—had been inconvenienced because of her error.

  Even the neatly trimmed beard couldn’t hide the way his mouth tightened. He came to a stop in the middle of the large, industrial-like kitchen and looked down at her. There was no missing the way he seemed to brace himself, as if needing to prepare even for such a simple act.

  Honestly, what had she done to earn such hostility from him?

  “This is the second time you’ve been on this property and you’re already taking it apart. What were you doing?”

  “I was microwaving a bag of popcorn.” That much should have been obvious.

  “Since when do you cook?”

  She didn’t dignify that with a response.

  He turned and glanced inside the scorched interior.

  “We need to replace that.” Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. “Margaret doesn’t cook in it, per se, but the residents heat up what she doesn’t serve hot on the table. You want us to use petty cash?”

  “Is there enough money to cover it?” There was no missing the concern in Charles’s voice. “Didn’t see this coming so I never wrote a replacement in the budget.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “We don’t need anything fancy.”

  “Make sure it has a popcorn button,” he added.

  That did it. Karan felt bad enough without Charles adding insult to injury. Honestly, what had she ever seen in this man? Something must be wrong with her. Had he always been so unpleasant?

  “I’ll replace it,” Karan said.

  He scowled down at her. “Unnecessary.”

  “Not unnecessary.”

  Elizabeth tiptoed out the door and vanished.

  “Karan, don’t be—”

  “For the record—” Karan wasn’t interested in hearing anything else he had to say “—if I’d have had any idea you would be part of this alternative sentencing, I’d have let the judge throw me in jail.”

  She spun on her heels and strode across the kitchen to a staff locker area that might have once been a mud room. Heading straight to her locker, she retrieved her purse and car keys and left by the back door. Since she didn’t officially have a job, she wasn’t abandoning her post.

  Breathing deeply of the hot, but blessedly fresh air, she clicked her key fob to start her car. She slipped into it, then remembered.

  From home to New Hope.

  From New Hope to home.

  Between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 p.m.

  Wannabe Jenny had been quite explicit.

  Karan could practically hear Susanna asking, “Do you want be incarcerated?”

  “I’m in hell,” she whispered to no one in particular and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

  The air-conditioning blasted her as she indulged in a moment of absolute nothingness for as long as it took to cool off from the temperatures and the heat of her reaction to the rude man who ran this program. She was going to banish every remnant of him and only think about how refreshing it felt to be out of the sun. How each breath wasn’t tinged with the horrible stench of burned popcorn and charred electronics.

  How Charles was inside New Hope, so close but so far away.

  She remembered this feeling, too.

  No, no, no! She was not thinking about him. For one blessed moment, she was going to pretend she was driving to her beach house in Connecticut, where she could enjoy the summer sun, which was exactly where she might be if she could drive.

  W
hen she finally lifted her head, she glanced in the rearview mirror, beyond the parking lot, beyond the heavily wooded patch of pine and the security wall concealed therein. The next stop was Walmart. So close yet so far away.

  Technically, this was New Hope business. But Wannabe Jenny hadn’t said she could drive for New Hope business. She’d said: From home to New Hope. From New Hope to home. Between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 p.m.

  Susanna was absolutely right. Was Karan willing to risk another visit to court if she got caught driving? With the way her luck was running lately, she’d get caught.

  So what could she do—ask Charles for a lift? She’d rather scale the wall herself. Grabbing her purse and keys, she shut off the car and headed out into the heat.

  The Supercenter might have backed up to New Hope’s property line, but in reality skirting the perimeter involved several long city blocks to access the parking lot.

  By the time she arrived inside the air-conditioned store, she wasn’t nearly as enamored with her Prada loafers. For what she’d paid, she would have thought they would be somewhat comfortable for walking. Not.

  She found the display of microwaves, chose the most expensive model, which should have all the bells and whistles, then checked out the listing of features on the back of the box.

  Yes, a popcorn button.

  She hoisted it into a cart.

  Making one last trip into the grocery aisles this time, Karan grabbed several industrial-size boxes of microwaveable popcorn. One swipe of her debit card and she was done making amends.

  It didn’t occur to her until she got outside that she didn’t have her car.

  She stared out at the parking lot with its veritable sea of cars. Luxury cars. Economical cars. Beaters.

  “Hell is a never-ending stretch of highway where I get to walk for all eternity and watch everyone else drive.”

  No one heard. No one responded. No one cared.

  There was nothing to do but keep pushing the cart.

  Karan had the receipt for her purchase, so she wasn’t worried about being stopped as she shoved the cart out of the parking lot. But the right front wheel had some glitch that made it hard to push over the escalations in the old sidewalk.

  But she was determined.

  She didn’t want the memory of Charles’s whining about money to follow her home. Not for an appliance that cost a piddling hundred dollars and change. Please. She’d give away a house or two not be subjected to Charles Steinberg and his moods. She wanted this project done and over with so she could go home and pretend this day had never happened.

  Of course, this neighborhood wasn’t the greatest. Tree roots had long ago upended much of the sidewalk and the hamlet of Bluestone Mountain obviously hadn’t seen to the repairs. Pushing the cart felt like an uphill trek, particularly when she had to use her body weight to bump the cart over the big breaks in the concrete. And it was hot, hot, hot. She glanced at her watch. Almost noon. Naturally.

  A car turned the corner ahead, bass pounding obscenely through the open windows as it cruised down the street toward her. She endured catcalls with a stoic expression, never slowing her pace, mentally cautioning the kids in that car not to mess with her. They would truly be sorry, and she’d wind up in front of Wannabe Jenny again. This time for beating a random kid to a bloody pulp with a boxed microwave.

  She kept pushing. The pulse-pounding beat faded, but she was sweating so much her toes slid around in her loafers, making the leverage she needed to keep the cart moving difficult.

  What had possessed her to buy these shoes anyway?

  They were cute. They were Prada. That’s about all she could come with as she maneuvered around the last corner. She could see the driveway to New Hope beyond the auto repair shop.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” some kid at the repair shop said when he caught her eye.

  She ignored him, focused on her goal. And she made it, finally turning off the sidewalk onto the driveway…a sharp upward slope that took the very last of her strength. The security guard at the gate eyed her skeptically and let her through.

  Deputy Doug happened to be on the gallery and, gentleman that he was, saved her from having to wheel the cart up the handicap ramp by carrying the box to the door.

  “Kitchen?” he asked.

  She nodded, too winded to waste breath unnecessarily.

  Balancing the box against his chest, he swiped his security card one-handed then stepped aside to let her grab the door.

  “We can place the old one in this box and dispose of it,” she suggested. “Unless you can think of any reason they’d want to keep it.”

  “None at all.”

  Setting the microwave on the counter, he plugged it in. Karan glanced at the manual and tested a few functions to ensure everything worked properly. Perfect. They were back in action.

  While Deputy Doug was packing the old microwave away, Elizabeth arrived.

  “Think this will do?” Karan asked. “It has a popcorn button.”

  The woman chuckled and came close to inspect the new addition. “Wow, this is even fancier than the one we had. Look at this defrost function. Margaret will be thrilled.”

  Karan was glad someone would be, assuming Margaret was the cook.

  “That wasn’t necessary, Karan.” She felt Charles’s voice more than heard it, a sound that poured through her until every part of her was hyper-alert.

  He was the only man who’d ever made her feel this way.

  It took every ounce of her will to turn around. Another deep breath before she found him standing in the doorway. “Never let it be said that I burdened your budget. Again, my apologies for the inconvenience.”

  She sounded so much more together than she felt. That in itself was impressive.

  “I saw the cart outside,” he said. “You walked?”

  What was with this man’s inane questions today? Couldn’t he see her standing here sweating so much she must smell like a goat? She inclined her head, refusing to indulge his stupidity.

  And he responded by staring at her with his too-handsome face, making her wonder if deep down inside somewhere, he didn’t feel the tiniest bit bad for being so mean.

  Of course that would presume he had a heart beating in that broad chest.

  Karan was sure he didn’t.

  So why did she even care what he thought?

  She didn’t, she reminded herself. “If you all are through with me, I think I’ll sign out for the day.”

  Charles shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  No doubt!

  Karan left. She was not going to subject herself to any more of this abuse today. She would get into her nicely air-conditioned car and head home. Then she was going to pay her housekeeper to chauffeur her to Mill Hill Resort and Spa, where she would convince her masseuse to squeeze her in between appointments. On a Saturday, no less.

  She’d almost made it out the door when Deputy Doug caught up with her. “You know it’s illegal to take a shopping cart off store property, don’t you?”

  Karan stared.

  He gave her a goofy half grin. “Well, I know you only borrowed it to deliver the new microwave and were planning to return it right away.”

  Argh.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC WAS LONG gone by the time Charles pulled into New Hope and, as anticipated, the property had settled down. The staff hanging around after the close of the business day was not only skeletal but specifically prepared to deal with anything that may come up during the night.

  According to Rhonda, the goal was to give the families who sheltered here a sense of normalcy. Quiet nights created routine, a sense of winding down after busy days, a semblance of privacy in a place where families had been forced by need to sacrifice even that simple dignity.

  Rhonda’s car had been in the lot, so after making a pit stop into the kitchen, Charles went to the office.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s Monday.”

  “I coul
d ask the same about you.”

  “Figured things would have quieted down by now.”

  She peered up over the rim of her reading glasses. “Really? Did the fact that the volunteers usually clear out by now have anything to do with that decision?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because your ex-wife used the exact same logic. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Oh, come on.” He rapped a fist into the palm of his hand. “She’s coming when she thinks I won’t be here?”

  “Well, you usually aren’t.”

  No, he wasn’t. He was in surgery all day on Mondays and found his weeks ran smoother when he took time to get organized in his home office before things degenerated into craziness. “I put a package in the refrigerator for you. Think I’m going to give it to Margaret instead.”

  That perked her right up. “Fresh rainbow trout?”

  He feigned a threatening expression. It wasn’t Rhonda’s fault that his plan to avoid Karan backfired.

  “You are a class act, Dr. Steinberg.”

  “And you are here unexpectedly, Dr. Camden. I thought you had patients in your practice on Mondays.”

  “My six o’clock had to reschedule until later in the week, so it’s not a big deal to swing by before my next one.”

  A lie. There was no swinging by. Rhonda’s crisis center was in the heart of downtown Bluestone Mountain while her private practice was in an office close to the hospital. New Hope was on the outskirts of town in another direction entirely. She was trying to keep him and Karan apart.

  He didn’t get a chance to decide if he appreciated the effort when she said, “But I am glad I caught you before Karan shows up. I wanted to apologize about Saturday. I’m glad you could salvage some of your weekend. If there had been any way for me to be here, I would have.”

  “No apology necessary. It happens. Thought you might be talking someone off a roof.”

  “Thankfully not. Just running interference with the county and the police. An incident with a patient.”

  Admittedly, Charles was sketchy on what constituted an incident in Rhonda’s field. “Doesn’t sound good.”