by Joy Fielding
THE SMELL OF freshly brewed coffee roused Kristin from her sleep about an hour later. She’d been dreaming about Suzy, she realized, opening her eyes and then quickly closing them again, trying to hang on to the fleeting image of the sad-eyed young woman. Kristin pushed herself out of bed, wrapped herself in a pink silk robe, and padded toward the kitchen in her bare feet.
“Aren’t you the sweetest thing in the whole world,” she said to Will, who was already at the table, wearing a blue shirt and brown pants, and nibbling on a piece of toast. “How did you know this is exactly what I needed?” She poured herself a mug of coffee, inhaled its rich aroma.
“I can make you some scrambled eggs, if you’d like,” he offered.
“Are you kidding? I would love that,” Kristin said, laughing. “It’s been forever since anybody’s made me scrambled eggs.”
“Well, they just happen to be my specialty.”
They exchanged positions, Kristin sitting down at the table, Will walking to the counter, smiling as their shoulders touched briefly in passing.
“Don’t look at me.” She brought her hand to her face in an effort to hide it. “I look like crap.”
“You look gorgeous.”
“I didn’t sleep well, and I don’t have any makeup on.” She sipped on her coffee, her large mug effectively blocking most of her face.
“You look better without it,” Will said. “Why didn’t you sleep?”
“I don’t know. I guess I kept worrying about what Tom said about killing Suzy’s husband. You don’t think he meant it, do you?” Again she pictured the gun in the back of the drawer in the nightstand and wondered if it was still there.
“Nah,” Will said, although truthfully he wasn’t certain. Tom’s behavior was growing ever more erratic. Surely it was only a matter of time before all that big talk exploded into something far more ominous. “Guess that early-morning phone call didn’t help your sleep any,” Will said, trying to erase thoughts of Tom from his conscious mind. “Nice of Jeff to go in early.” He walked to the fridge, reached for the eggs. “Two or three?” he asked.
“Two.”
Will removed two jumbo-size brown-shelled eggs from their carton. “You like them made with milk or water?”
“Your choice,” Kristin told him.
“I prefer water. It makes them fluffier.”
“Fluff away.” She watched Will crack the two eggs into a bowl, then add water, salt, and pepper. “I bet you did this for Amy all the time, didn’t you?”
“Sometimes,” Will answered, feeling her name sting his skin, like the sharp bite of a wasp.
“And she let you get away? What was the matter with that girl?”
“Maybe she preferred French toast.”
Kristin smiled, took another sip of coffee. “The more I hear about that girl, the less I like.”
“What have you heard?”
“Just what you told Jeff.”
“Which Jeff promptly told you.” It was more statement than question.
“Is that a problem?”
“He always tell you everything?”
“Jeff isn’t exactly Mr. Discreet.”
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” Will said.
“Men like Jeff don’t talk to other men,” Kristin said knowingly. “Not about personal stuff. They talk to women.” She lowered her mug to the table, then lifted up her right leg so that the bottom of her foot rested on the seat of her chair, exposing a flash of inner thigh as she rested her chin against her knee.
Will quickly looked away, turned on the stove, and extricated a pan from the cupboard directly beneath it. Then he returned to the fridge and located the butter at the back of the second shelf. He scooped some into the pan, stood there listening for the sizzle. “What else has Jeff said about me?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What do you mean?”
“Is he glad I came? Is he anxious for me to leave?”
“He’s glad you came, Will,” Kristin said, lowering her leg back to the floor.
“He said that?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“So how do you know?”
“Because I know Jeff. Trust me. He’s glad you’re here.”
Trust me. Why do people always say that? Will heard Tom sneer as he poured the contents of the bowl into the pan, watching the eggs quickly bubble and congeal. Did you know that armadillos are running amok in the state of Florida? he heard Tom ask.
“He scares me,” Will said.
“Jeff?” Kristin asked, clearly surprised.
“Tom,” Will corrected her, turning down the heat as he poked at the eggs with a rubber spatula. “Sorry. I was thinking about last night.”
Kristin watched Will continue scrambling the eggs as he reached into a nearby cupboard for a plate. “You know who scares me ?”
“Who?”
“Dr. Bigelow.”
“Suzy’s husband,” Will said, although there was no need for clarification. “Yeah, he’s a pretty scary guy.” He transferred the eggs from the pan to the plate and placed it in front of Kristin.
“Mmmn. This looks fabulous. Aren’t you having any?”
“I might have some of yours.”
“Not a chance,” Kristin joked, pulling the plate closer to her and lifting a forkful of eggs to her mouth. “These are the best scrambled eggs ever.”
“Glad you like them.”
“Somebody should shoot the bastard,” Kristin said, swallowing another mouthful.
“What?”
“Sorry. Just thinking out loud. I mean, the guy’s obviously a psycho. Threatening you guys the other day, coming into the club last night, hitting on me.” She speared another forkful of eggs. “I guess I should be grateful he was hitting on me, not actually hitting me. He saves that for Suzy. Guy deserves to be shot,” she added between swallows. “I can’t believe I actually found him charming.”
“You found him charming?”
“He offered to introduce me to this famous photographer who just happens to be a close personal friend. The oldest line in the book, and I almost fell for it.”
“You found him charming?” Will asked again.
“Well, he’s not a complete Neanderthal. I mean, there has to be a reason Suzy married him. No?”
“I guess.”
“First comes the charm, then come the fists. Poor Suzy.”
Will lowered his head, tried not to see the bruises marring Suzy’s beautiful complexion.
“I really don’t understand how a man his size,” Kristin continued, clearly on a roll, “not to mention a doctor, a man who’s taken an oath to do no harm, how somebody like that can justify hitting a woman, especially someone as delicate looking as Suzy. She’s skin and bones, for God’s sake. What satisfaction can he get from slapping her around? You wait—he’s going to kill her one day. And when he does, it’ll be partly our fault because we knew about him, and we didn’t do anything.”
“What are we supposed to do? Call the authorities?”
“Yeah, like that’s going to do any good. They’ll ask for proof, we’ll tell them we don’t have any, and they’ll tell us to mind our own business. Maybe they’ll question Suzy. But if she’s like most battered women, she’ll just deny everything and we’ll end up looking like idiots. Later on, she’ll get the crap kicked out of her even worse.” Kristin finished the last of her eggs, pushed her plate aside. “No, there’s nothing we can do. Which is why I feel so damn . . .”
“ . . . impotent?”
“Exactly.”
Will nodded, understanding the feeling well. He felt that way most of the time.
“Oh. I didn’t save you any eggs,” Kristin said, looking at her empty plate.
“No problem. I can always make more.”
“Promise?” Kristin pushed herself off her chair, leaned over, and kissed Will on the cheek. “You really are the sweetest thing.” In the next second she was gone, sweeping from the room in a flash of pink silk.
>
The unmade bed beckoned as she returned to the bedroom, and for a brief moment Kristin toyed with the idea of crawling back inside it, drawing the covers up over her head, and trying for a few more hours of sleep. But it was too late for that, she decided, walking to the window and opening the curtains, almost tripping over Jeff’s discarded jeans in the middle of the floor. She smiled. Interesting that Jeff would bother to change into a fresh pair of jeans when he was supposedly so pressed for time, she thought, bending down to pick them up, about to toss them in the hamper when she felt something in their back pocket. “Getting more interesting all the time,” she muttered, returning to the kitchen, object in hand. “Jeff forgot his wallet,” she announced, waving it at Will.
The doorbell rang.
“Probably him.” Kristin ran to the door. “Forget something?” she asked, opening the door, then taking a quick step back.
Lainey Whitman strode into the center of the room. She was wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a deep scowl. “Kristin,” she acknowledged, her gaze quickly shifting to Will. “And you must be the famous little brother.”
“Lainey, this is Will. Will, meet Lainey, Tom’s wife,” Kristin said, introducing the two and wondering what other surprises the day had in store.
“Nice to meet you.” Will thought that Lainey wasn’t nearly as unattractive as Tom had made her out to be. A little unconventional looking, perhaps, her features maybe a touch too imposing for her face, but pleasing nonetheless.
“Is Jeff here?” Lainey asked. “I need to talk to him about Tom.”
“He’s at work.”
Lainey suddenly looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She stood motionless in the middle of the living room, saying nothing.
“Why don’t I walk over there and deliver this?” Will offered, taking Jeff’s wallet from Kristin’s hand. “Give you two ladies a chance to talk.”
“No, that’s all right,” Kristin began.
“I’ll check in later,” Will told her, ignoring the look in her eyes imploring him to stay. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Tom.
“Nice meeting you, Will,” Lainey said.
“You, too.” He reached the door, gratefully pocketing Jeff’s wallet. My brother came to my rescue without even knowing it, he was thinking as he closed the door behind him. He’d have to find a way to thank him.
NINETEEN
“WOULD YOU LIKE A cup of coffee?” Kristin asked, gathering her robe around her and tightening the silk belt at her waist. “Will made a large pot. I think there’s some left.”
“Will made coffee?”
“And scrambled eggs.”
“Tom never makes anything,” Lainey said. “Except trouble,” she added unnecessarily.
“Can I get you a cup?” Kristin asked again.
Lainey shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Would you like to sit down?” Kristin motioned toward the sofa, where Will’s blanket lay neatly folded at one end. She hoped Lainey would say no, as she had with the coffee, and mumble apologies for having disturbed her first thing in the morning, but Lainey seemed grateful for the offer, sinking down into the soft cushions and taking several deep breaths. “Are you all right?” Kristin asked, sitting down beside her.
“Not really. You heard about Tom’s latest stunt?”
Kristin nodded, tugging at the bottom of her robe so that it covered her knees.
“We didn’t want to call the police. We really didn’t,” Lainey said. “But what choice did he leave us? What else could we do?” She lifted her hands into the air, palms facing the ceiling, fingers opening and closing, as if grasping for answers. Kristin noted she was still wearing her wedding ring. “He’d been following me around all day, first to the lawyer’s office, then to my hairdresser’s, where he made the most terrible scene, screaming at me in front of everyone, saying such awful things, you really couldn’t believe it. And then later, at dinnertime, he parked himself down the street from my parents’ house, just sat there for more than an hour, staring at the house. My mother was so upset, she couldn’t eat a thing. My father was so angry he wanted to go out and confront him himself, but we begged him not to, so he called the police instead, and they came and took Tom to the station. But they couldn’t hold him—technically he hadn’t done anything illegal—which is why we have to go down there this morning to take out a restraining order against him. Not that I think it’s going to do any good. I think it’s only going to make him angrier. But what choice do I have? I tried reasoning with him, but that didn’t work. He doesn’t listen. He never has. And I can’t have him following me day and night. I can’t have him upsetting my parents and scaring the kids. And I’m really frightened, Kristin. What if he does something crazy? What if he tries to kidnap the children?”
“I don’t think he’d do anything like that.”
“That’s what I used to think. I used to think that no matter how crazy he got, he’d never do anything to hurt me or the kids. Now I’m not so sure.”
“He’s just upset. Your leaving took him by surprise.”
“How could he be surprised? I’ve been warning him for months that this would happen.”
“He didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”
“What else could I do?” Lainey demanded. “What choice did he give me?”
“No choice,” Kristin said quickly. “Believe me, Lainey, I understand. Frankly, I’m amazed you hung around as long as you did.”
“He’s my husband, the father of my children. I tried to be patient and understanding.” She began nervously tugging at her wedding band.
“I know you did.”
“He hasn’t been the same since he came back from Afghanistan. He doesn’t sleep; he barely eats; he has nightmares every night. God only knows what he saw over there, what he did. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“He needs help,” Kristin offered.
“Of course he needs help,” Lainey shot back. “But he won’t even consider counseling. He says that if Jeff doesn’t need therapy, he doesn’t need therapy. There’s no way he’ll go.”
“Then you’ve done everything you can,” Kristin told her. “You have to look after yourself and your children.”
“I told him this would happen. How many times did I tell him?” Lainey asked. “I said that if he didn’t stop drinking, if he didn’t stop staying out half the night, I wasn’t going to stick around.”
“You gave him plenty of warning,” Kristin agreed.
“As far as he was concerned, I was just a convenience, someone to cook his dinners and keep the bed warm. I tried talking to him, but you can’t tell him anything. He doesn’t listen. Why should he? He knows everything.”
“Nobody blames you for leaving him.”
“I did everything in my power to make him happy. I never pressured him to get a better job, I never complained about money, I let him go out with Jeff whenever he wanted. All I asked was that he be home at a reasonable hour. But some nights he wouldn’t come back until three, four in the morning. And maybe you don’t care what time Jeff comes home . . .”
Kristin was about to interrupt, but Lainey wasn’t finished.
“ . . . but we have two kids, two kids who don’t need to wake up crying in the middle of the night because their father’s too drunk to keep his voice down.”
“It can’t have been easy for you,” Kristin offered.
“Easy?” Lainey repeated. “Are you kidding me? Try impossible.”
“You gave it your best shot. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
“Who says I feel guilty?” Lainey snapped. “I don’t feel guilty. I feel angry. I feel frustrated. I feel frightened. The man’s lost his mind. He said the most hurtful things to me yesterday. You can’t imagine.”
Kristin nodded, conjuring up the string of invectives her mother had hurled at her after finding Ron on top of her more than a decade ago, the words as lethal as if they’d been shot from a gun, as immedi
ate as if they’d been uttered yesterday. Lainey was right: She couldn’t imagine; she didn’t have to.
“And now he’s all upset about the kids? Bullshit! He never cared about them,” Lainey said. “Not from day one. How many times did he tell me he never wanted them, that I’d used them to trap him into getting married, that I’d gotten pregnant on purpose, even though he was the one who refused to wear a damn condom? But that was Tom. Nothing was ever his fault. Nothing was ever his responsibility. He blamed me for everything. Hell, he’d blame me for Afghanistan if he could.” She swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “He even said he didn’t think the kids were really his. And now he suddenly sees himself as father of the year? He’s screaming that I can’t take his kids away from him? He’s telling me he’ll quit his job before he’ll pay a dime in child support, that we can starve to death for all he cares? Does that sound like a man who loves his children to you?”
“He’s just angry and upset. Once he calms down—”
“He’s not going to calm down. He’s not going to be reasonable,” Lainey said, releasing a deep, tremulous breath. “He’s going to be Tom.”
“What would you like us to do?” Kristin asked after a long pause.
“I need Jeff to talk to him. He’s the only one Tom listens to, the only one who stands a chance of getting through to him.”
“I think he’s tried.”
“He needs to try again. He needs to try harder.”
Kristin nodded.
“My father wants him out of the house by the end of the week,” Lainey said, “or he says he’ll have him charged with trespassing.”
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” Kristin cautioned. “Maybe you should give him a little more time to get used to what’s happening.”
Lainey shook her head vehemently. “My lawyer says that prolonging things will only strengthen Tom’s resolve, not to mention his legal standing. Something about establishing a precedent. I didn’t quite understand. . . .” She folded her hands in her lap, nodded once and then again, as if trying to convince herself. “No, Tom has to leave. Jeff has to persuade him to find his own apartment.”