by ML Michaels
There'd been stories about that too. About the ones who'd skipped town, hoping to run away from the men they owed money to. But the stories never ended well. They ended at the bottom of a lake or in a car crash. The people Martin owed money to were not to be trifled with, and that was why, on that night, he finally came to his wife for help.
“Baby, hear me out,” Martin said softly, sweat gathering on his forehead.
“Don't you 'Baby,' me! I can't believe I'm hearing this. $67,000!?” Rose couldn't keep her anger in check. It was too much. She'd worked so hard towards providing the perfect life for both of them, and now it was being thrown away, all because Martin had an itch he had to scratch.
“Rose, honestly. They've been cheating me down there. No one loses like that.”
“You're a fool, Martin. That's why they call it 'gambling.' In the end, everyone loses if they don't know when to quit.” Rose was pacing in the kitchen. Back and forth. Back and forth. She'd always known where they were heading in the past, but now the road ahead looked blocked—and bleak.
“We need to pull together. If we don't pay them back, we're screwed. They'll come for their money, and if they don't take it out of our bank accounts, they'll take it out on our bodies, on me.”
Rose stopped pacing, resignation sweeping over her. A kind of acceptance, half-hearted. “How much do they need now?”
“3,000 a month.”
“$3000! We don't have that kind of money, Martin!”
“We're gonna have to find it. Because if we don't, there isn't a carpet in the world big enough to sweep all this under.”
They looked at each other. And in that moment Rose remembered. She remembered how she used to feel about the man in front of her. About how he'd been The One. They stared into each other's eyes, and for the first time since they'd met, she didn't feel it. That giddy feeling in her stomach. That involuntary response which made her want to kiss, hug, and protect him.
For the first time in her life, Rose didn't know if she loved her husband anymore.
But she was a fighter. If life had taught her one thing, it was that you don't give up. And while she could see the cracks in their marriage – feel them – she knew she'd have to do what she could. They'd have to cut corners. Hell, they'd have to cut entire sections of their world clean off. An amputation of anything, no matter how small, that required money.
Maybe, just maybe, they could make the monthly payments. But after that, Rose didn't know what she'd do. She knew she couldn't leave Martin to it himself. There was no way he could pay those men back on his own.
That was when the coldness began. A distance of ice between them. They'd always been affectionate with each other, but that stopped. And in the months which followed, that division only grew deeper.
It was unimaginable to her, but Rose could see her marriage ending. All it needed was a push, the slightest force from outside and it would fall, shattering on the ground.
That push came sooner than she imaged. His name was Jake Beauchamp.
***
The people of Hattersfield had been chattering about him for a few weeks. “A millionaire” some said, "a billionaire" others claimed. Whether either was true no one knew, but there was no doubt that Jake Beauchamp had money and bags of it. He'd been making inquiries around town and catching up with some old acquaintances.
Jake Beauchamp had been to Hattersfield before. Many times in fact. But not since he was a boy. Some remembered him but most didn't. Those that did, vaguely recalled the sandy haired Beauchamp kid running around outside Farley's store and getting hit by a car when he was messing around. There wasn’t a lot going on in Hattersfield, and so a child of eight or nine being run over was something the old timers remembered to this day.
Jake survived the accident but not without a broken leg, and his father was furious with his aunt who looked after Jake in the summers. But their arrangement remained. Each summer came and went, and with it Jake Beauchamp. Between each visit he grew, until in his early teens when his aunt passed away. There were no more visits to Hattersfield after that. No more apple pies cooling on his aunt's kitchen window. No more catching up with his Hattersfield friends. No more Hattersfield, period.
But the memories remained. Little nuggets of happiness that had bored into his soul. He loved the town and had always meant to come back. But life had always gotten in the way. Work. Work. Work. He'd made his fortune in his twenties founding a company that ran an entertainment website – news, funny videos, the sort of thing that kept other twenty-somethings amused. It had been time consuming, although being a rich young man, he'd certainly made sure he still had some fun.
Actually, he'd had a lot of fun. Too much perhaps. He'd worked hard, but he'd always found the time to go to parties, usually with a gorgeous woman on his arm. He was a young man who had it all and that suited him just fine.
Jake knew that others would happily swap places with him. But between the work, parties, and women, something stuck deep in his chest. A feeling. One that wouldn't let go. That emptiness that all people try to fill. There was something missing in his life, and he wouldn't be made whole by living the high life. He needed what most people needed: A home. The only time he'd ever felt that kind of stability, a place where he could truly rest and be himself, was during those long summers in Hattersfield.
All he had to do was find the perfect house... Or build it...
***
Rose had been clearing up a few bits and pieces surrounding a messy divorce litigation. While it was a client's marriage and not her own, she did think about the parallels. Two people who had promised themselves to each other cut adrift by the decisions they had made throughout the years. Decisions that could only lead to a fork in the road and set husband and wife on two different paths. A split which would never be healed.
Just as Rose was thinking about the financial plight Martin had put them in and how their circumstances could represent a possible fork in the road, a knock came at the door. It was Mr. Xavier, her boss. Harry Xavier to be precise. The door opened and Harry stuck his balding head through the gap staring intently at Rose.
"Rose, you can finish the Marlowe litigation later," he said, pointedly.
"But Mr. Xavier, it needs to be done today, and I have to get home to..."
"We all have homes to get to, Rose. Sometimes things come up. I need you to talk with a client. I'll send him in unless it's too much for you, of course?"
Rose could feel Mr. Xavier's glare. It was a test, and she felt as though he hoped she would fail it.
Rose smiled: "Of course, Mr. Xavier. Send him right in."
"Good." And with that he closed the door.
A minute later, Rose's office door opened, and in stepped a man. A striking one at that. In fact, through all their financial troubles, it was the first time Rose had noticed a man. Really noticed one. His thick blond hair was cut short and combed back. He had designer stubble on his rugged face, and he was impeccably dressed wearing a dark blue suit, black shirt and pinstriped tie.
He smiled, and Rose felt a flutter in her stomach. The same one she used to feel for Martin. In that moment, she realized how much she'd missed feeling that way. Feeling alive.
"Good afternoon, Rose is it?" the man said in a calm yet firm voice.
"Yes," said Rose, sticking out her hand to shake his.
"Great. My name is Jake Beauchamp. Have you heard of me?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Beauchamp." And that was true. While the town had been alive with the gossip surrounding the new young millionaire who had decided to make Hattersfield his home, Rose had been too busy working every hour she could to try and pay the loan sharks Martin had been dealing with.
"All the better then. I like a clean slate." Jake smiled again, and Rose fluttered.
"How can I help you, Mr. Beauchamp?" Rose asked, trying to hide her obvious attraction.
"I used to visit Hattersfield when I was a kid, and now I'm back I'd like to buy some land so I can buil
d a house."
"A pet project?"
"More like a dream one. I've always wanted to live in Hattersfield. I've been looking, searching for months, but now I've found the perfect piece of land on the Ainsley farm."
"Oh. Isn't that Rob Ainsley's place?" Rose asked, knowing the answer.
"Yes, it is. I've been trying to persuade him to sell up so I can build my new home, but he's being pretty stubborn about it."
Rose laughed: "Yeah, old Rob is a stubborn one. But how can I help?"
"I was hoping that with a local touch, maybe he could be persuaded. I'm offering a very generous amount for the land, twice what it's worth in fact." Jake went on to explain that he had offered $3 million for the entire farm.
But Rob Ainsley had lived on the farm for 50 years, built it up with toil and sweat. His wife had lived with him. They had been a sweet couple totally devoted to each other. Sadly, Suzanne Ainsley had passed away the previous fall. For Rob, no doubt, holding on to his home was keeping her memory alive.
"Are you asking me to represent you, Mr. Beauchamp?" Rose asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am. And please, call me Jake."
***
Two days and one letter to Rob Ainsley later, they met for a quiet lunch in a restaurant out of town. On the face of it, Rose was simply meeting a client. A man she was representing who wanted to buy some local land from a farmer.
But she knew there was more to it. She felt it. Like a child dipping its toe into warm water, she didn't know whether she would dive in or not, but there was one certainty – it was all she had thought about for the past two days.
Jake was as charming as he was handsome. He knew a lot about the local community, which surprised Rose since he hadn't been back to the area in about 20 years. But he'd kept up with developments.
"So why Hattersfield?" Rose asked as she scooped up some spaghetti with a fork and spoon.
"Why is anywhere your home? I guess I feel most relaxed here. I used to visit every summer. My aunt was a kind woman who had the most positive impact on me. She pushed me to believe in myself," Jake said.
"You didn't get encouragement from your family?"
"Not really,” he said without rancor. “My mom died when I was young in a car accident."
"I'm sorry..."
"Don't be, I barely remember her. You don't miss what you never had, you know?"
"Yeah, I suppose..." Rose said, not sure if she agreed. Her family had been everything to her, and she'd envisioned creating the same home for her kids with Martin. But sitting there in a restaurant with Jake, that hope seemed like an unrealistic dream that had soon turned into a nightmare.
"You okay?" Jake had noticed Rose's eyes glaze over for a moment as she contemplated her life.
"Yes, sorry. Go on. What about your dad?"
"I guess he had good intentions. But after my mom was gone, I don't think he handled things well. He tried his best. But most of the time he worked during the day then got drunk every night. I got the feeling he couldn't wait for the summers to come around so that my aunt could look after me. But that was fine, I couldn't wait either. Summers in Hattersfield were the best parts of growing up."
Jake Beauchamp was a puzzle. His strong jaw and deep blue eyes made it easy to fall for him, but deep down he seemed wounded. And for someone like Rose, who loved to take care of people, he became in that moment an even more tantalizing proposition.
She felt that quickening in her stomach, that teenage angst she hadn't felt for years. An urge to be with someone, to learn all about them, to connect. She tried to think about her husband to keep those thoughts at bay, but all that did was show Jake in a better light. Rose's relationship with Martin had become more of a bad arrangement than a marriage, the division between them fueled by his gambling habit.
Rose listened to Jake's story, how his difficult childhood propelled him on to greater things. How he'd used those pains, those crushing disappointments to build a business and become a millionaire at such an early age. Of course, he didn't specifically mention the millions, but Rose had done a little research since their first meeting – he was, several times over.
When they parted after the meal, Rose realized that she had barely talked about Rob Ainsley's farm and Jake's attempts to buy it. They had talked about everything else, except for Rose's marriage. They'd spoken about her love of Hattersfield, how she hoped to work her way up to partner one day and pay off her mortgage. But there was no mention of Martin, the only telling sign that she was married was the small ring on her finger.
Afterwards, guilt set in. In every way, the meal had differed from any business meeting she'd had with a client before. In every way that mattered, it felt more like a date. Rose went home and wandered to the spare room, sleeping in the empty bed. It had been several months since Martin and Rose had shared a bed, and as she fell asleep, giddy from her meeting with Jake, Rose wondered if she'd ever sleep in the same bed with Martin again.
And so it went. Weeks passed. Then months. Every week for two months without fail, Rose saw Jake. Initially it was under the guise of a business meeting. To cafes, to restaurants, to the office. But eventually the conversations about business dried up. Still they had so much to share. Nothing happened, no hand holding, no physical affection or goodnight kiss, but in Rose's heart she felt as though she was slipping towards an affair. An affair with Jake, a kind, successful man who seemed to feel the same way, although she couldn't be sure.
Of course, Jake did feel that way. He wanted her. He had felt that way since that very first meeting in her office. There was something about Rose that made him cling to Hattersfield even more. In his fantasies, he saw their future stretch out before him. He'd buy the land at Ainsley's farm. He'd build a beautiful country house there. And he'd be with the prettiest girl in the county. Rose. And to him, she was in every way that most romantic of flowers.
But he knew. Knew she was married. He knew she was with Martin. On their fifth meeting, Jake decided to broach the subject. They were in a small cafe, again, two towns over. He knew why that was, why Rose kept choosing places away from Hattersfield. Just as the gossipers had spread the word about the Beauchamp kid being run over years ago, those same gossipers, or perhaps their descendants, would spread the news that Rose was meeting with the new man in town. The Beauchamp kid returned to conquer the town of Hattersfield and to take a well-liked man's wife away from him.
That's why he asked about her husband. It wasn't unheard of that a woman would wear a ring to ward off unwanted men. It could have been for that reason, or perhaps she could be a grieving widow who refused to admit that the till-death-do-us-part agreement had been fulfilled on both sides. But deep down, he knew Rose wanted to keep their meetings away from prying eyes, and that meant only one thing: She was spoken for.
"Who is your husband?" Jake asked.
The words struck Rose like a lightning bolt. Her eyes opened wide and for a moment she was completely at a loss for words. Until that moment, she had been able to avoid this inevitable conversation by simply not mentioning the fact that she was married. With four words, Jake broke the spell. For all this time and during all these meetings, Rose had been able to justify her omission to herself. Why did she need to talk about her husband? She hadn't done anything wrong, had she?
No, she hadn't done anything wrong, but she was certainly entertaining the idea. She looked into Jake's deep blue eyes and sighed. “I've been married for over two years. It was good in the beginning, like it should be. But now I'm not sure. We've grown apart, he's made life difficult for me, and I'm not sure I can ever forgive him for everything that’s happened.”
There. The cat was out of the bag. In just a few sentences, she'd laid out how she felt about Martin and her marriage. It was a weight off her shoulders. She had never said those words allowed. Not even to her closest friends. With Jake Beauchamp, however, she felt she could truly be herself and speak openly.
But with those words came problems and guilt. Jake was s
ympathetic, but he knew that Rose was in a difficult situation. She was a loyal person, so he knew an affair was out of the question. In any case, with each meeting he realized that he wanted more. He wanted Rose to be his girlfriend and to see where the romance would take them.
But he wouldn't push too hard, not yet.
They continued to meet, and with each meal, each drink, each word, they grew closer. In body, they were not having an affair. But in their heart and soul, it was a different matter.
***
And then the realization came. Martin suspected. He knew something was wrong. Of course his wife hadn't slept in the same bed as him since the truth about his gambling debts had reared its ugly head. Most nights, they ate in different rooms, and even when they sat at the dinner table eating a simple meal to save money, their eyes wandered around the room never falling upon each other.
He knew his marriage was in trouble. But for the first time, his trust began to wilt. Rose had always been loyal to a fault. And perhaps it was a fault. Maybe she would have been better off without him. Better to let the loan sharks deal with him and find someone else.
But had she found someone else? The thought cut like a knife into his very soul. He loved her so much. With every fiber of his being. And the thought of Rose with another man made his blood boil. But he couldn’t confront her yet. He needed more than just intuition. He needed proof.
She was always meeting clients after work, and until that day, until he'd found the cinema ticket stub in her coat pocket, he'd always believed her. But who goes to the cinema with a client? You can't get much talking, much negotiation done in the dark recesses of a dingy cinema hall. But you can steal a kiss.
The jealousy was slowly turning into rage. Martin decided he would find out the truth. When Rose left to meet a client, he would follow out of sight. He would watch and find out if she truly was having an affair.