And suddenly Jill didn’t feel like telling him anything. She crawled back up to the head of the bed and slipped under the heavy quilt. Screw him. She was going and she wasn’t about to let him stop her.
Chapter 6
Monday morning, Jill had everything in order. She woke up when Scott was getting ready for work, but remained in bed, feigning sleep. She heard the garage door open, his car start and pull out, and the garage door close. Still, she stayed in bed. Sometimes Scott would come back into the house in the mornings to retrieve something he’d forgotten. Jill waited, a million thoughts racing through her mind, about the trip, about Scott, about what she was doing.
After a few minutes of silence, she sat up in bed. She hadn’t slept much, but was wide-awake.
She quickly dressed in the jeans, t-shirt, and cardigan sweater she’d picked out the night before then made the bed. Practically running to Martie’s room, Jill pulled her suitcase out from underneath the bed. As she started to unzip the zipper, she heard a car outside. She ran to the window of Martie’s room, which faced the street, to see a man in a small truck flipping newspapers out onto the front lawns around her house.
Sighing in relief, Jill finished unzipping the suitcase and opened it up wide. She raced to her bathroom to gather her personal hygiene items, then returned to Martie’s room. Zipping the bag back up and setting it on the floor, she heard a car horn give a short honk. It was the taxi she’d called for the night before.
She returned to her room and pulled the books about Ireland from her dresser, then retrieved the backpack out of her closet, stuffing the books into the bag. Jill pulled the note she’d already written to leave for her husband from the bag. She hesitated, for a moment, to read it.
Scott –
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this in person. I’ve decided to take Mary’s place at her cousin’s wedding in Ireland, since she broke her leg. I didn’t want you to try to talk me out of it. I’ll be back next week.
Jill
The note didn’t seem good enough, didn’t express her true feelings, but it would have to do. She didn’t know, really, what her feelings were right now. She needed time to figure that out.
After giving her luggage to the taxi driver and settling into the back seat of the cab, she looked up at her house. Jill had the feeling that she might not be back for a while. Her heart beat wildly at that thought. It frightened her horribly to be doing what she was doing, but nothing and no one could keep her from doing it.
Jill flew from Phoenix to New Jersey, where she had a three hour layover at Liberty International Airport. She thought about trying to take in some New York City sights, but decided she really didn’t have the time. So she found the gate for the outgoing flight to Dublin and settled into a seat. Digging around in her carry-on bag, she found a novel she’d bought to read during the trip and opened it up to the first page.
She’d been reading for a while, vaguely aware that the seats around her were beginning to fill up. Someone sat down beside her on each side, but she didn’t look up. There was a television mounted high above the seating and the newswoman was talking about a flood in Tennessee. Jill glanced up to see the awful pictures of people standing on their roofs, waiting to be saved by police in small motorboats.
“Guess we could have it worse,” the man on her right commented, gesturing towards the television.
Jill turned her head to see a nice looking man, forty-something, smiling at her. She looked back up at the flood scenes.
“Yeah. Pretty bad, isn’t it?” she said. “We don’t have many natural disasters like that where I’m from.”
“Where’s that?” he asked.
“Phoenix. We have a 100-year flood, but I wasn’t living there the last time it happened. Now we’re in the middle of a drought, so it’s not much of a worry.”
He nodded. “I’m from Los Angeles. Other than a few earthquakes and some mudslides, we’re fairly immune, too.”
They both looked up at the television in silence. Then the man turned back to Jill.
“So what’s in Ireland?” he asked.
“I’m sorry… what?” she was caught off guard. What does he mean, what’s in Ireland?
“Leprechauns?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
The man laughed heartily and Jill noticed now that he had deep blue eyes. He said, “I meant, why are you headed to Ireland?”
Jill laughed, too.
“Oh…” she said, smiling at the man. “A wedding.”
“Yours?” he asked.
Jill had to laugh again. She started to say she was married, which was true, but was it going to stay true? Realizing she still had her wedding ring on, she decided honesty was the way to go.
“No, no. I’m already married. It’s the cousin of a friend that is getting married,” she said.
“A cousin of a friend. Sounds like a close relationship,” he said, clearly finding her humorous.
“It’s a long story. I’m basically a stand in guest. My friend, the one with the cousin who is getting married, broke her leg badly last week and can’t go. So here I am.”
The man nodded.
“Oh, I’m James,” he said, twisting to offer her his right hand.
Jill shook his hand. He had a nice firm handshake, not overbearing, but not a dead fish handshake either. She couldn’t stand that.
“Jill,” she said in return. “And you? Your purpose in Ireland?”
“I’m a reporter. Doing a story on the Irish illegal aliens that are in California.”
“Irish illegal aliens?” she asked incredulously, thinking he was putting her on.
“I know, sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” James said, and shifted in his seat to face her more directly. “Apparently back in the eighties the economy in Ireland was bad, really bad, so a lot of the young college graduates migrated to the Silicon Valley in California, many of them on temporary visas and now they are somewhat stuck. The visas ran out years ago, but they’re entrenched in the industry and economy in California.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” Jill said.
“Yeah, and now with the push to stop the flood of illegals from Mexico, the Irish in California are getting some attention, because essentially, they are in the same boat as the Mexicans. They’re here, they’ve been here for years, they’re working, and most are paying taxes. The jobs the Irish are doing tend to be a little higher level than the ones the Mexicans do here, but the problem is the same for both groups.” He looked back up at the television, then back to her. “Now the Irish and U.S. politicians are trying to cook up a deal to let the Irish stay legally, while trying to stop the flood from Mexico.”
“What’s your opinion?” Jill asked him.
“I don’t get paid for opinions, I get paid to write the truth.” James said, as he shook his head. “But off the record, I don’t think it’s fair to give a deal to one group and not to the other, just because one group has college degrees and speak the same language as we do.”
Jill nodded. Being married to Scott, who was very conservative where she was a little more middle-of-the-road, she had learned to stay away from these types of discussions. They usually ended up with her crying because Scott wouldn’t let her have her own opinion. But James didn’t seem to be forcing his opinions on her, just putting them out there for her to take or leave.
Jill chatted with James for the next forty-five minutes until the plane to Dublin started boarding. James gave her his business card from the L.A. Times and told her to look him up next time she was in L.A. She smiled and said she would.
After finding her seat and settling in, she thought about talking to James. For years, that kind of easy conversation had been impossible for Jill. Scott saw everything in black and white. He would not have seen it as just a friendship; he believed it was impossible for Jill to have a friendship with a man. It wasn’t that he was insanely jealous. It was more that he just thought she wasn’t capable of having a simple friendship with a man. Or any woman to ha
ve a simple friendship with a man. She guessed that he had friendships with women in his firm and with female attorneys that he saw in court. But apparently he thought she wasn’t able to handle such a relationship.
Jill sighed. She’d shoved these types of thoughts back for so long, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with the truth. The truth was that her husband had turned into an egomaniac, a male chauvinist, and a jerk. She could finally just say it. Scott was a jerk.
She wondered what Scott was doing now. It would be about evening time in Arizona. Jill had turned off her cell, not wanting to take the chance that someone would catch her before she’d boarded the flight to Dublin and try to change her mind. Scott rarely called her during the day, unless they had plans for the evening. Nothing planned for tonight. At least, nothing for him. She had plenty planned.
The flight was a red-eye, not that long, but with the difference in the time zones, Jill would be arriving in Ireland about eight in the morning local time. She knew she better get some sleep. Covering up with the soft blanket provided by the attendant, she snuggled up against the window, thinking about James and his interest in her, and drifting away into sleep.
Scott Owens came home to an empty house. He had called his wife twice that afternoon, but her phone went immediately to voice mail, so he assumed that she had been forgetful again and let her phone battery die. Jill was always doing that, he thought to himself. It was just another perfect example of her irresponsibility.
Now, as he came into the house, he found the house dark and quiet. Odd.
“Jill, I’m home,” he called, but received no answer.
Walking into the kitchen, he flipped on the lights. The kitchen was clean, nothing out of the ordinary. Jill was usually pretty messy, but she liked to keep the kitchen clean. Scott opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Opening the bottle and tossing the lid into the trash under the island counter, he noticed the piece of paper on the small eat-in kitchen table. He picked it up and began reading it. Slowly, he lowered the beer from his mouth.
“What?” He was confused. What did this mean, she’d gone to Ireland? She’s gone to Ireland! “What?” he repeated.
He sat down and reread the note. That’s why she had not answered his calls. He was shocked for a few minutes. Then, as he began to think about it, he became angry. He jumped up and grabbed the phone off its cradle. He dialed his daughter.
“Martie, it’s Dad.”
“Oh, hi Dad!” She sounded happy to hear from him. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine,” he answered tersely. “Do you know anything about this trip your mother is taking?”
“Trip?” Martie was confused.
“To Ireland. Do you know anything about it?”
“She’s going to go to Ireland?” Martie asked. “Why? When?”
“You don’t know, do you?” Scott’s anger bubbled, but had lessened. At least she hadn’t cooked this up with the kids. “She’s gone. She went to Ireland. She left a note.”
“What?” It was Martie’s turn to ask. “What for?”
“Your mother’s friend, Mary, was going to go to a wedding, a cousin’s wedding, but she broke her leg, and I guess your mother went in her place.”
“But she didn’t tell you?”
Scott was embarrassed to have to admit this to his daughter, who considered him her hero and her parents’ marriage perfect. “No. She just left his note.” He picked up the note and waved it around as if Martie could see him.
“That is so weird. She didn’t say anything to me. Have you talked to Ryan?”
“Not yet. Maybe he knows something.” Scott knew that Jill had a closer relationship with Ryan than he did.
“I can’t believe she’d just leave without telling you! It’s, well, it’s so mean!” Martie was now the one who was angry. “You’ve always said she was irresponsible – this just proves it.”
“Just what I was thinking. I’m going to hang up and call Ryan,” he said.
“Dad – call me back if you find out anything.”
“I will.” Then he hung up and dialed his son’s number.
“Ryan, it’s Dad.”
“Hey, Dad, what’s going on?” Ryan asked warmly.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” his dad asked.
“Is this about Mom?” Ryan asked hesitantly.
Scott exploded in anger. “You mean you know? How could you not tell me?”
“Yeah, I know about it.” Ryan said calmly. “Listen, Dad. Would you have let her go if she’d asked you for your permission or blessing or whatever you want to call it?’
“Go to Ireland? By herself? No, of course not. Your mother can barely get herself to the grocery store and back. What makes her think she can travel across the ocean to another country on her own?” Scott ranted.
“Do you really have such a low opinion of Mom?” Ryan angrily asked.
“She doesn’t do anything but hang around the house now that you kids are gone. She shops, throws a dinner party every once in a while – which she has catered, by the way – and keeps the house clean. She’s practically an agoraphobic,” Scott said dismissively.
“Dad, you can be such an idiot. You have no idea, do you? You don’t know her at all. You want to know what she really does during the long hours that you work and ignore her?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Scott tersely asked, his jaw clamping and unclamping.
“Dad, for the past few years Mom has learned how to play the piano. She’s got a yellow belt in karate. She’s taken dancing lessons and voice lessons. She can paint beautifully and has been writing songs. She’s done all these things while you’ve worked.” Ryan laid it out for his father.
Scott was very stunned. Could what Ryan was saying be true? How could Jill have done all these things without him knowing? Without him even having a clue?
“Haven’t you noticed that she’s lost weight, that she looks great? She walks a few miles every day, takes different classes so she can dance… I mean, come on, Dad.”
He had noticed. He just hadn’t taken the time to tell her. And he hadn’t taken the time to wonder why or how she’d done it.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked quietly.
Ryan didn’t say anything immediately. Finally, he said, “Dad, this is tough to say, but it’s the truth. You don’t treat her very well.”
“What? What about this house? What about her car and clothes and jewelry?” Scott asked, becoming angry again.
“Stuff, Dad. Stuff. When’s the last time you took her out that wasn’t a business dinner or event? When’s the last time you two went on a vacation? Dad, when’s the last time you told her you loved her?”
“I’m busy, Ryan! When am I supposed to do all these things?”
“She’s your wife. You should have made time. She’s a terrific person and you’ve made her feel like she’s nothing. She had to break out. She was dying inside with you.” Ryan said. “Frankly, Dad, I don’t think she wants to be married to you anymore.”
“Did she say that to you?” Scott asked.
“No, but it’s pretty clear, at least from where I’m standing.”
Scott expelled a short sigh. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“Wait. Maybe she’ll see things differently when she gets back. Maybe you will, too.” Ryan advised his father. Then suddenly feeling pity for him, Ryan softened. “It’s only a week, Dad. She’ll be back.”
Scott hung up the phone. How could she have done all that without him knowing? When did she stop talking to him, stop telling him everything? He had no idea.
Picking up his bottle of beer, he walked down the hall to the office. It was really his office, since Jill rarely did anything in there. When they first bought the house, they both planned on using the office, but Jill became a stay-at-home mom and basically just stayed out of the office. Or so he had believed.
He sat in the big leather chair behind the desk and took a long drink f
rom his beer bottle. Looking around, everything seemed to be in place. But now as he sat there, not preoccupied by work, he saw the room with new eyes. Jill had been in here, he was sure of it.
Opening the bottom desk drawer, he was surprised to find class catalogs from the nearby community college. He pulled one out and flipped it open. Sure enough, she had highlighted class names yellow. Acting? Painting? Singing? He had been completely in the dark.
He put the catalog back in disgust. He had paid for all these classes. What a waste of money. Like she would ever do anything with any of this. He slammed the drawer closed and picked up his beer bottle and downed the rest of it. Jill better enjoy her little trip to Ireland, because when she got back there was going to be hell to pay. She could kiss these classes goodbye. No more wasting his money.
Chapter 7
Jill woke about twenty minutes before the plane landed in Dublin. One of the attendants was on the sound system talking about having all their travel documents completed and ready to present when they landed in Dublin. She quickly filled out the forms and tucked them into her passport. Her stomach turned nervously. It was at this point that she allowed herself to become excited, to acknowledge what she had done. She was in Ireland and on her own.
Well, maybe not completely, but it was first step. Her heart filled with happiness, joy, and a little bit of fear. Oh well, it was a bit like jumping out of a plane, scarier than hell, but so exciting that it was worth the momentary fear. Or so she thought. Like she’d ever jump out of a plane.
The jet bumped to the ground and a few minutes later turned into the gate. Jill gathered her things and stood to wait her turn to leave the plane. As she stood waiting for the line of passengers to begin moving, she looked around at the others waiting. She wondered what their stories were. Why were they here? Running away or running to? She smiled slightly. Good question for herself. Was she running away from Scott or running to something else? Only time would tell.
The Replacement Bridesmaid Page 4