Safe Harbor?

by Wardell, Heather

  “Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he said, hanging his head, but not before I could tell he was blushing. “Weren’t nothing.”

  “No? Never mind then.”

  He looked up at me and we laughed, then his eyes slipped past me and he said, “Your husband is returning so perhaps I’ll leave you two alone to relive your wedding.”

  He moved off before I could answer, calling to a group of three women who appeared to be dressed as Charlie’s Angels, “Ladies! Anyone want to rub me for good luck?”

  They turned around then burst out laughing and moved toward him with their hands outstretched as he hurried over crotch-first.

  “Ready to go?”

  I turned to Owen in surprise. “Really? But Melissa and Nicholas haven’t left yet.”

  “It’s eleven o’clock and I’m still wiped out from my trip. Plus they’re planning to stay until two in the morning. I don’t have that in me, Celia.”

  I looked into his eyes and realized that was true. Though I couldn’t feel anything emotional from him I could see his exhaustion, and sympathy filled me. Today must have been so hard for him, but he’d held it together. “Okay, why don’t you go get the car while I say goodbye? Unless you want to come with--”

  “No, let’s do it your way,” he said, and gave me a ghost of a smile before leaving.

  Proud of myself for taking a bit of the burden from him, I found Melissa and Nicholas on the dance floor and told them Owen and I were heading out.

  “Thanks for coming, and for dressing up,” Melissa said, smiling at me awkwardly. “We appreciate it.”

  “Thanks for having us.”

  We all smiled at each other, still awkwardly, then I went to the door to find Owen wondering if the crazy family I’d married into could ever somehow become the close-knit and drama-free one I’d longed for as a child.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My life did begin to approach the calm normalcy I wanted over the next eight weeks or so. Though I still got overwhelmed in crowds and near people with overwrought emotions, knowing why I was losing control of myself helped to bring me back under control, and spending time with my husband every night helped too. His work was going well, mine was too, and even Dawn had vowed to stop picking up inappropriate men and then expecting them to be something they weren’t.

  Everything made sense.

  And then it didn’t again.

  At our company holiday party the weekend before Christmas, I stood, sweaty and laughing, beside Owen as we tried to catch our breath.

  “I won’t interrupt your dancing any more than I have to,” Lawrence said, smiling out at all of us, “but I’m leaving in a few minutes and before I go I need to thank you for your great work this year and wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy holiday season and an amazing 2013!”

  The hundred or so of us clapped and cheered, and Lawrence wrapped his arm around Winter as they both waved at us and then left the stage and the party.

  A slow song started up, the first one for ages, and Owen turned to me with his eyebrows raised and his hand out. “Just need a quick washroom break,” I said, wishing I didn’t have to because I’d seen a lot of women heading in that direction, “then I’m all yours.”

  He gave me a dramatic little bow, and I giggled and curtsied in return then made my way to the washroom. There was indeed a line, so several more songs had gone by and another slow one was starting when I finally emerged.

  On my way back to the dance floor, I saw something that made the amazing dinner and several glasses of wine I’d had slosh uncomfortably in my stomach.

  Owen.

  Dancing with Kelly.

  He held one of her hands in his, and his other hand rested on her lower back while hers lay on his upper arm against the fabric of the silver dress shirt I’d had custom-made for his birthday present a few weeks ago. He wasn’t holding her inappropriately close and his hand on her back was not even close to too low, so I shouldn’t have minded, but the sight of another woman in my husband’s arms upset me even before they turned enough that I could see her face and realize how happy our coworker was to be with him.

  I looked away, then went to the bar for a glass of water. I had to sober up and calm down. I was not supposed to care what he did, especially when what he was doing was perfectly acceptable.

  Owen hated drama. I knew that. Emotional entanglements were the definition of drama. If I went over there and yanked Owen away from Kelly and threw a fit, he’d be horrified and disgusted. Our marriage was based, even more than Owen knew, on staying calm and cool and unattached. So why was I instead feeling jealous and sad and furious?

  Once I had my water I stood off to the side of the bar and watched though I didn’t want to. They were chatting away, and Owen was smiling at her, then he said something else and she burst out laughing and pulled her hand from his to give his shoulder a gentle slap. Instead of taking his hand again, though, she slid both arms around his neck. Owen, left with a free hand, seemed confused for a moment then put that hand on her back as well.

  The urge to put my hands around her neck, and squeeze with all my might, ripped through me so hard it hurt but I closed both hands around my water glass instead. Poor substitute for what I really wanted to do but the only thing I could do.

  I tried to convince myself I only cared because it was Kelly he was with. I’d thought before she wanted him, so their dancing could be her first attempt to take him from me. She’d already managed to move it from a more distant position into something that was nearly a hug; what would she do next?

  Did it matter? If Owen didn’t respond, which I couldn’t imagine he would, then...

  I looked down into my half-empty glass, knowing it did matter. I didn’t want another woman dancing with him, touching him. Kelly or anyone. Though he wasn’t responding, I didn’t want him that close to someone else.

  And what if he did respond? He hadn’t yet, but what if he pulled her closer, let her kiss him, maybe even kissed her first? He wouldn’t do it here in front of our coworkers, but what if he did it somewhere else? And even if he didn’t do it, what if he wanted to?

  Before I knew I was going to move, I’d smacked my glass down on the bar and was stalking toward the dance floor.

  “Mind if I cut in?” I said, doing everything in my power to hide how scared and angry I was.

  Owen released Kelly at once, not in a ‘you caught me’ kind of way but like he obviously wouldn’t keep dancing with her when I was available. I liked it, and also liked that his quick movement made the way she still held onto him look weird and desperate.

  She must have known it, because her cheeks pinkened and she pulled her arms from his neck and said, “Of course. I was just keeping him entertained. He’s all yours.”

  I looked into her eyes and said as casually as I could, “Indeed he is,” and both felt and saw her frustration that I’d taken Owen back from her. I’d been right. She wanted my husband.

  She turned and left the dance floor and though I wanted to run after her and make sure she knew I’d kill her if she tried anything I wound my arms around Owen’s neck and said, “Did you miss me?”

  He smiled at me and laid his hands on my lower back, but I saw confusion in his eyes as he said, as he had to say, “Of course I did.”

  Did he? I didn’t know, and for the first time the real downside of not being able to read my husband’s emotions hit me. Was his confusion because I cared? Or because he cared about Kelly?

  Ours was a business-like marriage. What would happen if he fell in love with someone else?

  With misery, I realized he wasn’t holding me any closer than he’d held Kelly. Did he care about me at all?

  And why did I even want him to, given that if he did and I knew it that would mean his emotions had broken through and he was no longer the safe quiet place I needed?

  Tears filled my eyes and I closed them so he wouldn’t see.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded and blinked my eyes
clear. “Just tired.”

  He rubbed my back. “Want to go after this song?”

  I nodded again, and as the song played on and the singer told of how madly in love he was with his woman, I danced with my husband like he’d danced with our coworker and wondered how the hell everything had changed.

  Chapter Twenty

  On Christmas Day we went to Linda and Raul’s place, but when we arrived Melissa opened the door before we knocked. Instead of letting us in out of the bitter cold, she slipped out onto the porch and closed the door quietly behind her.

  “You’re going to freeze,” I said, since she wore just a t-shirt and jeans and socks, but she waved me off as her agitation hit me.

  “Never mind that. Listen, Raul’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  She opened her hands in a ‘no idea’ gesture. “He wasn’t here when we got here, and when Nicholas asked when he’d be back she said never. And she won’t say anything else.”

  Great, more drama. Owen and I hadn’t discussed his dance with Kelly but in the three days since it happened I’d been trying in vain to convince myself I didn’t care. And now Raul, the calmest member of this crazy family and the only one who could talk Linda into behaving, was gone.

  The argument I’d seen between them at the wedding came to mind. Had it been more serious than I’d thought? Had they been fighting the whole time since then? We’d seen them a couple of times in the last two months and they’d seemed okay, although that fierce rage I’d felt in Linda at the wedding had never gone away.

  Maybe it had overflowed and Raul had taken off as a result.

  Or maybe she’d wanted him to leave.

  “What do we do?”

  Melissa shrugged. Then, for the first time I could remember, she raised her eyes to look directly at Owen. “Any ideas? She’s... manic, I guess is the word. Hyper. Acting like everything is perfect. But she won’t even let us say his name.”

  “I’ll try it,” Owen said. “Go back in and let us knock. Pretend we just arrived. I’ll ask and see what she says. Maybe she’s just being silly. She does that sometimes. Plays around.”

  Melissa nodded, but she didn’t look convinced, and her stress increased mine.

  She went back inside without a word, and Owen sighed and said, “Fantastic. Merry Christmas.”

  I gave him a grimace of a smile. “At least we had a good morning.”

  “Yeah,” he said, letting his shoulder nudge mine as he reached out to knock. “We did.”

  I’d found a recipe online for making French toast out of cinnamon buns, and since Owen loved both of those things I’d figured he’d love the combination even more. He had, though we hadn’t come close to finishing the batch I’d made, and then his cinnamon-and-maple-syrup-flavored ‘thank you’ kiss had turned into more and we’d gone back to bed for the first sex we’d had in a week. Being with him had felt even better than usual, like Kelly couldn’t be a problem if we were this good in bed, and I’d loved every second.

  Afterward, lying in a happy daze with a full belly and a satisfied body, I’d almost been asleep when I’d felt something furry moving on my shoulder. After opening my eyes in surprise, I’d burst out laughing and reached for the gorgeous plush Pooh bear toy Owen was making dance against me. “Merry Christmas,” he’d said then, with none of the bitterness he’d used just now, and kissed me again before having Pooh deliver a black cashmere cardigan as the rest of my present.

  Owen’s hand, in one of the cashmere-lined leather gloves I’d given him as we laughed together about both choosing black cashmere gifts, banged the lion’s-head knocker against the door, and in moments Austin appeared. “Mom,” he shouted back into the house, “Celia and what’s-his-face are here.” The joking was typical. The tension in his eyes was not.

  “Something’s not right,” he hissed as we entered the house. “She’s messed up.”

  Linda’s heels clicked on the kitchen tile as she approached the foyer, and I knew she wasn’t playing around as Owen had hoped even before she appeared before us because her emotions hit me so hard my stomach lurched. Even the man who’d thrown that woman off the roof hadn’t been as furious. Not hot like her usual anger, Linda’s rage now seemed like a bone-chillingly cold black cloud around her spreading out in all directions. Whatever was causing this, it went deep.

  “Linda, what’s wrong?” I said without meaning to, because she shouldn’t have to handle something as awful as this felt alone.

  “Nothing,” she said, shooting me an icy look. “It’s Christmas. What could be wrong? What the hell could possibly be wrong?”

  I took a step back, honestly afraid she was going to hit me. Owen took one forward at the same time. “Mom, come on. Tell us. What’s up with Raul?”

  “Oh, they told you, did they?” She rolled her eyes. “None of my children or their wives know how to keep their mouths shut.”

  Her venom on “wives” shocked me, and it seemed to shock her too, shock her out of how she was behaving. “Sorry, Celia,” she said awkwardly. “Not your fault.” Raising her voice, she said, “Everyone in here. Now.”

  Once the other three were standing with us, she said, “Okay. Look. Raul is gone. He won’t be back. And that is all I want to say about that.”

  “But--”

  She cut Austin off. “But nothing. There’s nothing else to say. Nothing else you need to know. Now, shut up and get into the living room for presents.”

  As we obediently shut up and took our seats in the living room, I knew there was something we needed to know. The rage she’d been feeling was still there, but when she’d said we didn’t need to know a sickening fear had joined it. No doubt, whatever Linda was furious and terrified about would affect her sons at some point.

  And whatever affected Owen, affected me.

  *****

  With the help of a few glasses of rum-laced eggnog, Linda managed to pull herself together. I could still sense her fear and fury but they were muted, like she’d stuffed them away somewhere inside herself. Owen did a better job of blocking his emotions.

  Refusing to let myself wonder if that was actually any better for him than what Linda was doing, I gave Melissa a smile I hoped looked genuine as I handed over her heavy gift. I had given it a lot of thought, wanting it to be right so it wouldn’t increase the awkwardness between us and might even help reduce it, and with Nicholas’s help I hoped I’d succeeded.

  She unwrapped the box and stared inside. “Wow. These look cool.” She began pulling out the writing reference books I’d bought her. “Name origins, character emotions, how to describe things... I don’t have any of these.” She raised her head and smiled at me, looking as genuine as I’d wanted to look. “How’d you know what to get?”

  I shrugged, smiling back both because of her expression and because I could feel her happiness. “I made a list of what seemed like good books, then... well, I got a little birdie to check whether you had any of them.”

  She shot Nicholas a sideways glance. “Little birdie, eh?”

  He fluttered his eyelashes at her and she laughed. “Well, you and your little birdie did a great job,” she said to me. “Thank you. I’ll name a character after you in my next book.”

  “Name the monster after her,” Austin suggested.

  “Can’t,” she said, rolling her eyes and giving me a “what can you do?” look as I smiled at her. “Naming it after you.”

  “Then Celia can be the heroine who saves the day. But not by killing the monster. I don’t want to die.”

  “Anyone need more eggnog,” Linda cut in, “or is it just me?”

  She topped up the glasses of those who raised their hands then held up her bottle of rum.

  Austin and I accepted but Nicholas shook his head and Melissa said, “I’ve had enough too.”

  Linda started to pour for Austin then stopped. “Wait, you two. I didn’t give you any rum the first time. What do you mean, you’ve had enough?”

  “We gave ours
elves some,” Nicholas said, reaching for a shortbread cookie. “When you were in the washroom.”

  I didn’t remember seeing that, and though he sounded calm I could feel a new nervousness in the room, but Linda shrugged and said that was fine because it meant more for her and nobody else said anything about it so I let it go. Not like we needed any more drama today.

  “Okay,” Austin said after a second, “I’ve got something in my lap for Celia.”

  I puffed out my cheeks and pretended I was going to be sick, but then I couldn’t help laughing. Austin was such a ridiculous flirt.

  “Nice,” he said, giving me a wink. “Make the guy feel bad on Christmas.” He picked up the red envelope that had indeed been lying in his lap and held it out to me.

  “Use some hand sanitizer afterwards,” Nicholas advised, with amusement in his voice.

  “Quiet, you,” Austin said as I took the envelope.

  Inside, I found a brochure for a class that promised “everything from still life to life drawing to landscapes” in twelve weekly sessions, along with a receipt showing Celia Reel was registered.

  A shiver of happiness running through me at the sight of my married name, which I still hadn’t quite gotten used to, I said, “You signed me up for an art class?”

  “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

  I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. “Well, I noticed that you draw a lot, and a little birdie told me that you might like a class, so I hope you do. And if you end up drawing a pretty naked lady, I want a copy of the picture.”

  “No chance, buddy,” I said, trying to sound annoyed, but it was hard because what he’d done was sweet.

  And it was even more sweet that he’d talked to Owen about it. I didn’t know whether Austin had had the idea of the class and had run it by Owen or whether Owen had suggested it himself, but either way it meant my husband was paying enough attention to me to know about my hobby of doodling, and I liked that. Probably too much.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I shifted uncomfortably in my gold high-heeled sandals, wishing I were at home on the couch watching TV with Owen. He’d shot down my ‘why don’t we just spend New Year’s Eve relaxing?’ suggestion, though, because Leonard and Tam had what he called a great party every year and we had to be there.