Their Secret Wife (Shadows Between Lies Book 2)

by Nicky Webber

  Both sisters returned to their respective homes three days after their mother’s funeral. They too had spoken several times to Maddy, expressing deep concern for their father’s ability to cope with his loss and desolation.

  CHAPTER 23

  Abandoned

  In the early evening, several weeks later, Logan stands in the fading light, surveying the soft expanse of the master bedroom he used to share with his late wife. He still senses her presence in the room and the faint scent of her body nearby. If he concentrates hard enough with his eyes closed, he can feel her lips delicately, almost imperceptibly, against his own. Despair etches its miserable impression on his face as he pulls back the blankets, revealing the crumpled indentation on his side of the bed, contrasting against the smooth pillow and white cotton bedsheet on Mila’s half. He moves into the walk-in closet, emptying drawers of Mila’s clothes onto the bed, pulling selected items of her clothing off hangers and throwing them on top of the increasing pile of women’s apparel. His logical, clear thinking-nature has shrunk to a sliver of its former self and could no longer override his distraught emotional anguish. Like a tsunami of abject misery, it barricades him behind a fortress of stoicism, masking his pain from all who talk to him and those who love him.

  He wants one last connection with her, hoping to exorcize Mila from his house, but not his heart. Last night he drank straight from a bottle of bourbon. Half empty now, he lifts it from the bedside table. He swigs it down unceremoniously in between loading Mila’s clothing onto the bedcover. It’s getting dark, and he is unaware of the time, but he doesn’t care. He strips his own clothes off and lowers himself onto the large king-size mattress. Logan stretches out the full length of his body and rolls onto his side, facing Mila’s half of the bed, where the mound of scrambled clothing sits. He clutches the remnants of her strewn underwear, shirts, dresses and jeans to his chest, surrounding himself with her. Logan lifts handfuls to his face, burying his nose into the fabric and breathing in the elusive scent of his dead wife. He sits up and wrenches the white linen sheet over himself along with Mila’s crushed clothing, nestling himself amongst it, desperately trying to untangle his heart and unearth his lost hope and spirit.

  Sobbing out loud, he encircles her clothes with both arms, clutching the bundle, pressing it against the full length of his naked body. He gently rocks, rolling back and forth, as if comforting her by comforting himself.

  How could she do this to him? Abandon him when they still had many years to enjoy together. A familiar tension pulls across his neck and shoulders. Logan’s anger at Mila had erupted several times over the past few weeks, but now he endures remorse at having smashed her favorite dinner plates. He had carried them outside onto the covered veranda and one by one; smashed the fine white china onto the stone pavers, shattering them into countless pieces before falling to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. His heart pounded in his ears as another blinding headache sears his mind with rising guilt. It’s all so hopeless; he thinks now. Everything in his life seems utterly pointless.

  Years ago, Logan read somewhere that your head story dictates your attitude. Nothing’s good or bad, but thinking makes it so. He repeats the famous quote several times over, still clinging onto Mila’s clothes while trying to shift his thoughts to happier times, memories that used to lift their spirits and make them both erupt with laughter. He lies silent and unmoving, replaying the time Mila surprised him on his thirtieth birthday with a diamante covered body part. A faint, almost imperceptible smile graces his lips as he ventures deeper into the memory.

  She had returned home around dinnertime that day and bustled into the kitchen carrying supermarket shopping.

  ‘I was wondering where you were,’ Logan says.

  ‘Aha,’ she beams. ‘Your concern centers on your food quota being served on time.’ Before Logan could respond, she continues, almost taunting him with suppressed laughter as she packs the shopping away in the pantry shelves.

  ‘I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about anything,’ she says, chuckling. ‘I promise, the last thing on your mind will be food when I show you what I’ve got you for your birthday.’

  ‘Really?’ he looks at her, trying to decipher if she is serious or just teasing.

  ‘I’ll feed the kids first and then we can have some alone-time,’ she says in an exaggerated sexy hushed whisper.

  She amuses Logan with her flirting.

  The next morning Logan left Mila fast asleep and shuffles into the kitchen. His two daughters have the television blaring out cartoons as they sit eating toast. He leans over the sink and fills the kettle with water, flicks the espresso machine on and absentmindedly watches the girls munching through a slab of peanut butter and jelly on toast. He can still see Mila’s Bedazzled Brazilian and her hysterical delight at his shocked expression as she ripped her clothes off. Both utterly spent, as they drifted into blissful sleep, she explained to Logan how horrified she was after the waxing at the beauty parlor that day.

  ‘But I look like a twelve-year-old down there,’ she complained to the beautician, waving her hand in the general direction of her nether regions. ‘My husband will be more shocked than… ah… inspired, if you get my drift.’

  ‘I can fix that in a heart-beat,’ offered the beautician, and twenty minutes later Mila’s bald patch is camouflaged with a stunning array of stick-on diamante sparkles.

  Logan grinned broadly, remembering his shock at Mila’s birthday surprise. It surprised him, all right!

  The memory took him back to that early morning kitchen reality with the squealing of Sacha at the television.

  ‘Hey, you two, what’s with the half jar of jelly on that toast? It’s a bit much.’ Logan warns. ‘You better eat it before your Mom gets down.’

  Both daughters look up at their father, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. They swivel the bar stools around to peer at him.

  ‘What’s that?’ asks Sacha, pointing at her father’s face.

  ‘Yeah, Dad. What’s going on with your cheek?’ demands his young, accusatory teenager, Suzie.

  Logan looks from one daughter’s perplexed face to the other and rubs both hands over his stubbled face. He catches something on the second pass and peels it off his left cheek with his thumb and index finger. It is a stick-on diamante piece of evidence from Mila’s birthday gift.

  A rush of blood burns his crimson cheeks with embarrassment, which quickly spreads down his neck to his chest, peaking out through his wrap-around dressing gown.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he says abruptly, swinging around and grabbing his coffee before retreating to the bedroom.

  His daughters call this incident his ‘walk of shame’ when teasing him in later years. As parents, they never escape the knowing, giggling and teasing of their daughters. The looks of mock-disapproval from Maddy and Fred after the sisters reported the incident added more fuel to the situation. There were so many fond and funny memories…

  But now there was nothing. He tries to block out the present and eventually Logan falls into a dreamless sleep.

  As the first rays of early morning sunlight cast shards of light across the disheveled bed, Mila’s husband opens his blurry eyes, rubs his tired hands over his pale, stubbled face, and sighs. He hasn’t slept at all. Relentless grief and exhaustion shatter him. Closing his eyes, he knows he needs to gather the strength to face another empty, heartless day. But today, he understands there is no hope and there will never be another Mila. The full burden of being alone for the rest of his life sits like a rock in the pit of his stomach. So many regrets flock like unbidden bats, flapping their accusatory wings inside his head.

  This cold, blunt edge of grief extends throughout every night over many more weeks. He climbs into their shared bed, clutching at the last strands of Mila’s existence. Finally, on this day, he recognizes the need to eradicate her from his life, remove all clothing, photographs and marital souvenirs from the house, or he can never claw himself back to
reality. His eldest daughter has promised a visit next week, so he must pull himself together. Work told him to take all the time he needs. But there wasn’t enough time in his life to grant him that wish. His boss calls twice every week to see how he is doing. He must get himself towards himself, as Mila used to say, quoting an old Irish expression.

  Standing up, he casts a disengaged look around the cluttered room, clothing strewn on the carpet, shoes, and stuff everywhere before he spots his boxer shorts and pulls them on. After coffee, he will call Maddy to come and help him sort out Mila’s things. She will know what to give away and what to keep. They can work together clearing out everything and delivering clothing to the Salvation Army. Some other less fortunate people may benefit from Mila’s shortened life.

  The next day Maddy arrives feeling miserable but masks her suffering with a brave smile. She hasn’t grasped how deep the misery impacts Logan, but the state of the house is enough to confirm her worst fears. The kitchen looks like a bomb site, with every surface covered in glasses, empty alcohol bottles, and cans, along with half-finished plates of food. Logan had scattered clothing and clutter throughout Mila’s once happy home, providing evidence of his depressed frame of mind. He had hidden behind closed drapes and false reassurances for weeks. Her heart contracted with pain. She calls him every day, but he is in a far worse state than he sounded on the phone. His grief is almost palpable inside the house. Everywhere she looks is dark and desolate, heavy with his suffering.

  Logan sees the pitiful expression on Maddy’s shocked face, confirming the dire chaos of his life. They both register this would horrify Mila. Maddy reaches out to Logan, pulling him close in a familiar hug.

  ‘Oh Logy, why didn’t you ask me for help?’

  Tears spring into his eyes. His lips press together as he shakes his head. She hugs him again.

  ‘You get in the shower, and I’ll make a start,’ she orders.

  Maddy strips off the bed, piling Mila’s clothing in one corner of the room, ready for boxing up. She carries the bedding to the laundry room and throws it into the washing machine. Grabbing the soap-powder, she lifts open the top of the box. Picking out the plastic scoop buried in the white granules, Maddy feels something sticky underneath the packet. She stops, puts the scoop down on the top-loader, and lifts the soap powder box up again. There is a piece of tape with a small, torn, folded fragment of paper, half hanging from underneath the laundry powder box. She lifts it above her head and peers closely, tilting the cardboard container, then peeling back a thick piece of tape which holds a small flat metal key in place.

  Maddy picks the rounded head of the key from its glued position and holds it in her open palm. To her surprise, she recognizes it as belonging to a small lock-box. It is the key to Mila’s metal safety-box she kept on the top shelf of her bedroom wardrobe.

  She slams the washing machine lid closed and turns it on before racing to the master bedroom. Logan is still in the bathroom. She reaches up and removes the metal box from its hiding place and sits on the bed. The key easily slides into the lock, one twist and the lid pops open. There is a white sealed envelope inside, with both Logan and Maddy’s name inscribed on it in Mila’s careful handwriting. She opens it without hesitation. Maddy pulls out a single sheet of folded paper.

  Dear Logan, Maddy and Fred,

  I’ve not been entirely honest with you all, as I could not bear to see the sadness in your eyes for the last weeks of my life. After a recent scan, the medical experts informed me I only had three more weeks to live. I agreed with Maddy, and I thank her from the bottom of my heart for adhering to my wishes.

  I didn’t want to cause any more hurt. Logan, I want you to know that I always loved you, and only you.

  Please forgive me and love one another. Mila Xxx.

  CHAPTER 24

  Fear Multiplied

  The undercurrent of fear is almost palpable, and Maddy realizes that before the gene testing results exposed her love affair with Logan, it would be wiser to take the proverbial by the horns and confess to her husband. Coming completely clean about the entire situation makes her stomach churn in a sickening grip. Fear stalks her every waking moment as she plays out all the machinations and variations her conversation with Fred could take. There is just no simple way around the obvious. It’s horrific from every angle.

  There was one exception. They could ignore the gene test for Fred. She could dream up some excuse. Let Blake take the test and pray there is no conflicting genetic data. It was a high-stakes, risky strategy. Not having the paternity test factored in could simply avoid that entire layer of exposure for her and Logan. She could please under medical confidentiality with the doctor to not expose the genetic results and focus on the treatment for Hawke. A long shot, but at this stage she will try anything.

  She considered if it was best to tell Fred about her affair with his best friend, but held off with the news that Logan was the father of Hawke. She had several discussions with Logan about stalling the test for Fred, which could buy more time to unravel the unholy mess they now faced. But in the end, they would still have to face up to it and go through the humiliation and emotional upheaval.

  In amongst Maddy’s stress and tears with Logan, he pointed out that Hawke had never taken a paternity test.

  ‘Maybe, just maybe, there’s a slim chance that Hawke is Fred’s son?’ He raised this issue at risk of destabilizing Maddy even more. But she sat, defeated, drained by the thought of emotionally wounding her son, sick and illegitimate. How could she ever face Fred?

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Logan asked.

  She slowly nodded, wishing she were dead — the ultimate avoidance of the inevitable.

  Maddy had a conscience, and her marriage was faltering on the brink of imploding. Telling Fred would mean taking her medicine, easing ongoing guilt but ending her marriage. She half believed admitting the affair was part of the solution to healing the relationship. But telling him Logan is Hawke’s biological father was too catastrophic to consider. How could she risk Fred’s devastation over his cancelled fatherhood?

  There was no way she could make the conversation with Fred more palatable. Maddy felt as if someone had thumped her in the chest with an unexpected blow to the heart. What had she expected? She had imagined Logan would retreat and they would both pick up their separate lives, never getting embroiled ever again. If only her relationship with Fred was stronger. Like the tide, he seemed to recede further away. He retreated from her. Recently, Logan’s emails were almost non-existent. So too, this tidal love she had with both men contracted in its ebb and flow. She felt disheartened by the impossibilities, instead of dreaming of what could be. They stacked the barriers to meaningful love against them all in an emotional game of roulette, none of them willing to pull the trigger and knowing she held the incendiary explosive that could blow them all apart.

  Of course, she had engaged in various conversations with her friend Jess, thrashing around on the hook of reason. Jess kept challenging Maddy.

  ‘How is this going to work?’ she asked Maddy repeatedly. ‘How could anything ever work out with Logan?’

  It was true. They never meant their diverse lives to merge. Maddy grumbled about Fred’s disconnected marriage to her. She felt alone and isolated. Here she was almost at the end of time and kept falling back in love with Logan and him with her. The two of them were hopelessly repeating a treadmill of love that never progressed, and neither did it force any change in their lives.

  ‘You wouldn’t leave, Fred.’ Jess stated the facts. ‘He would be lost without you.’ The words hung like blades in the air. Maddy sat on the cusp of telling Jess about Hawke, but quickly thought better of it, given the volatile, emotional nature of her friend.

  It was true. Maddy could dream, but reality cut through the flimsy fabric of fantasy. Could she not have a taste of the dream once a year, with no one being disturbed or upset? No pressure, no upheaval, just a close connection for a fleeting moment, an intimate love that could
support all three of them for the other eleven and a half months of the year.

  ‘You’re dreaming!’ Jess shot back. ‘Well, I guess you could carry on indulging in this nutty thing with Logan, but it will creep into your world and destabilize your marriage, eventually.’

  ‘I think it already has.’ Maddy gave Jess a quizzical look.

  ‘It’s going to get harder and harder to compartmentalize your life and love. It’s never going to function properly, and by the same token, if it were going to work, it would have worked already, don’t you think? This Yo-Yo affair shows me that neither of you wants to go the full snorting hog,’ Jess said, sounding triumphant.

  Maddy looked down at her half-finished coffee sitting on the table at their local café. There were about eight tables with only one other couple eating at this off-peak time of day. It provided a private, intimate way to download her frustration. But Jess was not Mila. While she was critical, she offered no pragmatic solution. But then again, who could? Even she and Logan had not worked things out.

  ‘I know you’re right, Jess. But I can’t accept it. I also recognize that I’m incredibly self-centered.’ She sighed, and Jess reached across and clasped her hand in the same way Mila used to. It gave Maddy a slight jolt, a flashback of her best friend, reviving sadness that Mila had gone. She pulled her hand away, picking up her cup again, and took a slow sip of the tepid coffee.

  ‘It’ll pass, give it time, and things eventually find their own level and get back to normal.’ Jess carried on. Maddy heard Logan’s words. He would never know how deep the bitter-sweet sliced. Her cell phone beeped. It was Fred, but she didn’t take the call.