Hitts & Mrs.

by Lori Bryant-Woolridge

  In the weeks following, Will and Melanie were nearly inseparable, and quickly became an official couple. By Easter, he was certain that she was the one. Will surprised her at a Hitts family dinner a couple weeks later with an engagement ring tucked inside a beautiful egg-shaped music box. Full of love and appreciation for this special man, Melanie agreed to marry him without hesitation.

  So much had happened between them since those happy times. And now, after months of Mel trying to deny his existence, he was here, rekindling feelings and memories that made a mockery out of her vow to get over him and move on with her life.

  While Nat King Cole sang about chestnuts roasting, Melanie and Will sat on the floor in front of the fire playing a friendly game of poker. The Hitts family’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Louisiana gumbo had been heartily consumed, and with appetites satiated and dishes done, the group disbanded to various areas of the house. Xavier and Francesca were upstairs with screwdrivers and batteries, playing Santa’s elves after tucking their exhausted daughters into bed. Lawrence and Elizabeth had long retired to their bedroom, leaving the ex-couple alone in the glowing warmth of the living room.

  Mel watched closely as Will studied his cards. He triumphantly threw a pair of kings into the middle pile, winning the hand and the game. “Victory is mine!” he exclaimed as he brushed the pile of pistachio nuts over to his side.

  “It was never you,” Mel told him, dismissing his jubilation. Her out-of-left-field comment pushed away the joviality of their friendly card game and spun the evening around into an entirely different direction. “I left you because I didn’t want to be in the way. I didn’t want to keep you from finding the kind of love you deserve.”

  “Don’t you understand that by leaving you didn’t remove an obstacle? You created a hole.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And what made you think that you couldn’t give me the kind of love I need?”

  “Well, for starters—the house.”

  “Why would me buying us a house run you away?”

  “Because it told me that you didn’t know me as well as I thought. Otherwise, how can you explain making a purchase that major without telling me? How did you know that I even wanted to live in D.C.?”

  “This is where I work. Your family is here. I just assumed that this is where we’d continue to live.”

  “Exactly. You assumed. You didn’t know. But I’m not blaming you. We were so busy planning a wedding, we didn’t take the time to plan our life. We didn’t talk about where we’d live, when or if we’d have children, or what we wanted out of life as individuals or a couple. We didn’t discuss any of those things. I mean, on the surface, maybe, but not in any great depth. How could we get married when there were so many things we didn’t know about each other?”

  Will stood to stretch his legs and search his heart. It was true that they didn’t know each other as well as many couples who’d spent years dating before marriage, but that didn’t make his feelings for her any less true. The important basics were in place between them—loyalty, strong values, and similar morals. The other things were simply icing on what he believed to be an already splendid chocolate cake.

  He stretched out his arms and drew Melanie to her feet, then placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “I want you to look past all of your confusion and answer me from here,” Will said lightly, pounding his chest with his fist. “Do you still love me?”

  Tears began to form in Melanie’s eyes. “Yes,” she answered. Will wrapped her up in his arms and hugged her tight. He could feel his own tears begin to fall as Melanie confirmed what he’d always known. As long as she still was in love with him, he was confident that things would be all right. He bent down and touched her lips tenderly with his. His kiss was brief yet powerful and communicated all the things his heart was feeling but his mouth was afraid to say.

  A sense of déjà vu ran through Melanie’s body. Just a week ago, John had done the exact same thing and summoned forth similar emotions—tenderness, warmth, arousal. The feelings were comparable in that they both evoked desire, but they were also very different, as one stemmed from present experience, the other from past memories.

  A tremor of confusion followed. Never had two such different men, while occupying the same slice of her life, brought forth such equally potent feelings. Deep inside, Mel knew that she still loved Will Freedman, but at the same time she felt apprehensive, not understanding what was truly happening between her and John Carlson. On that yacht in Miami both delightful and disquieting feelings for John had gripped her imagination and left her pondering what, if any, possibilities lay ahead for them. Yet, standing here wrapped in the protective shell of Will’s embrace, she was convinced that their relationship deserved one more chance.

  Will stepped back and lightly wiped the tears from her cheeks and gingerly offered a smile. “Melanie, you just said you love me, and I love you. Nothing has changed. I still want you to have my babies. I still want to grow old with you. How can we let a silly house keep us from being together?”

  “It’s not just the house,” Melanie snapped, pulling away in frustration. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? You want all those things, but how do you know what I want? Like I said, we don’t know each other well enough to be married.”

  Will pulled her back into a hug, unwilling to lose any further ground. “Baby, I heard you. And I do believe you’re jumping the gun a bit. I don’t recall having asked you to marry me again,” Will joked, teasing her back into good humor.

  “I understand what you’re saying to me, Mel. But it would be criminal not to try again. All I’m asking is that we take the time get to know each other better. Then we make a decision about where we go from there.”

  “How do we do that?” Melanie inquired. “How do we go from being engaged to being just friends?”

  “We start at the beginning,” he said, extending his hand. “Hello, Melanie Hitts. My name is William Gregory Freedman and I’ve been waiting all of my life to meet you.”

  Melanie looked down at her hand safely encased in his and finally realized the truth in her mother’s statement that a man’s hands revealed a lot about his character. Will’s well-groomed hands were strong and powerful. The scars on his knuckles from years of playing football spoke the truth of a man who had worked and played hard all of his life. On the flip side, his palms, despite a few weightlifting calluses, were smooth and supple, the flesh as soft and giving as his heart.

  “Nice to meet you, Will Freedman.”

  “So we’re starting fresh?”

  “Yes, but promise me, no expectations. No pressure,” Melanie insisted.

  “I promise not to pressure you if you promise to communicate openly and honestly.”

  “I promise. Cross my heart,” Mel said, pantomiming her words and already feeling like a liar. Could she tell the truth to Will about everything? Would he understand her relationship with John? Especially when she didn’t?

  “Would it be pressuring you to ask you to spend New Year’s Eve with me?” Will asked, hope shining in his eyes. He was praying like hell that she hadn’t already made a date with her “friend.”

  Mel took a moment to consider Will’s invitation. She and Candy had talked about hanging out together, and now that she and Frank were on the outs, Griffin would most likely be her date. It might be fun for the four of them to ring in the new year together.

  “I do have plans already,” Mel began. Will felt his spirits drop and rebound as she went on to explain with whom. “But with that cast of characters, it could get a bit crazy.”

  “Crazy sounds perfect,” Will replied, locking his gaze onto hers. He lifted Mel’s hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her knuckles. The simple touch of his mouth on her skin sent powerful and familiar sensations throughout her body. Again, their smiles met, but this time without the trepidation that had peppered them earlier. These smiles communicated the remnant intimacies shared between two people whos
e life paths had once poignantly intersected.

  Melanie had no choice but to place her relationships with both Will and John into God’s hands and see where things went. After all, wasn’t that where faith came in? Allowing God and the Universe to guide you when yelling “Timber” in the forest did absolutely nothing to clear the trees.

  Chapter 15

  Amanda sat quietly studying the faces around the Carlsons’ dinner table as they chatted over dessert and coffee. The festive scene around her left Mandy feeling even more connected with her mentor. Just as Amanda had begun to do with Quincy and her crew, Sharon had created a makeshift family of good friends. Gwendolyn and Bob Robinson with their sons, Nicholas and Ryan, had obviously adopted Sharon, and thanks to them, she was able to experience the extended love that came with being part of a large family.

  Mandy surveyed the scene, her feelings alternating between joy and trepidation. She was particularly grateful to her parents for allowing her to stay in the States and celebrate a family Christmas, even if it wasn’t with her own. Throughout the evening, Sharon and her friends included Amanda in all of their traditions—the singing, joke-telling, and gift exchange—trying to make her feel part of the celebration. And despite their rocky start on the Bloomingdale’s sales floor, even Gwen had warmed up to her, presenting her with a pink suede journal and funky roller-ball pen.

  Sharon’s husband was a vastly different story. No matter what she had to say about any subject, John reacted with negative disdain. His distant and disapproving air made her feel nervous and unwelcome. Perhaps that was why her stomach had started to feel queasy again.

  “Amanda and her friends are going to help out at the nursing home for a few months,” Sharon announced, once again trying to draw Mandy into the conversation.

  “Is this some sort of community service project?” Gwen asked.

  “Sort of,” Amanda responded, not volunteering any additional information.

  “What are you, a Girl Scout or something?” Ryan asked.

  “No,” Amanda snapped. She was horrified, as any hip fifteen-year-old would be, that Ryan would dare suggest such a disgustingly infantile thing. “I got arrested and have to do fifteen hours of community service.”

  All activity around the table ceased. Forks were suspended in midair, mouths agape at the news. John immediately shot his wife an I-told-you-so look, though Sharon, Bob, and the boys were both flabbergasted and intrigued. Gwen, like John, seemed not surprised in the least.

  “You were arrested?” Nicholas asked. “That’s deep.”

  “Yeah, but the charges were dismissed.”

  “What were you charged with?” Bob Robinson asked in his authentic lawyer’s voice.

  “Disorderly conduct,” she answered, picking at her pound cake and ignoring Sharon’s imploring eyes. Amanda was sorry she’d let the news slip. She’d told Sharon only that she had to complete a community service project. Sharon had naturally assumed it was for school and had asked no further questions.

  “What exactly did you do?” Gwen asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “It had to be something,” John remarked sharply.

  “It was a couple weeks after this kid at school got caught with a gun, and a bunch of us got together to demonstrate against violence in schools. We were minding our own business and the police started hassling us. This one cop kept yelling for us to move along and we kept telling him that we had the right to be there.”

  “Did you have a permit?” Bob asked.

  “Well, no, but we really thought we had the right, you know, free speech, the right to assemble, and all. It turns out we did need a permit, but we didn’t know and he didn’t have to be so nasty. He pulled out his nightstick and said that if we didn’t go, he’d arrest us, and my friend told him to go ahead. The cop got rough with him, grabbed him by the arm, threw him on the ground, and handcuffed him. A group of us started yelling at the cop and tried to pull Max away, and he arrested us all.”

  “And that’s it?” John asked. “It doesn’t sound plausible that the officer would react so strongly, unless you and your friends were baiting him.”

  “We didn’t bait him. We were yelling at him to leave Max alone because we were afraid.”

  “I think you’re leaving something out,” John insisted.

  Amanda shot up from the table and sprinted toward the bathroom. She could no longer fight the nausea and didn’t want to further embarrass herself.

  “John, you’ve upset her,” Sharon said as she pushed her chair back from the table, ready to follow and console Amanda.

  “Sit down, Sharon,” her husband instructed.

  “Maybe it would be best to give her a little time alone,” Gwen suggested, trying to protect both her friend and the young girl.

  “Why were you so hard on her?” Sharon implored reluctantly, returning to her seat.

  “That girl is nothing but trouble,” John said.

  “She said she did nothing wrong and I believe her. Apparently so did the judge. And you’ve been rude to her all night, even before you found out about the arrest.”

  “I told you that it was inappropriate for her to join us in the first place. She has her own family, for chrissake. But you totally ignored what I had to say and invited her anyway.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was your job to determine who was appropriate for me to invite into my home,” Sharon replied sarcastically and with uncustomary defiance.

  John could well gauge his wife’s anger by her uncharacteristic willingness to ignore the presence of their friends as she waged this battle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bob and the boys trying to disappear into their chairs, while Gwen suppressed an I-am-woman smile, pleased that Sharon was standing up to him.

  “This is not the time, Sharon. We have company,” John stated, dismissing the subject.

  “Gwen and Bob are family, not guests. And they already know how dictatorial you can be.”

  The words left an eerie echo in John’s ears. Melanie had said something similar while they were in Miami. She too had accused him of being controlling and unyielding, though he’d always thought of himself as taking charge. And wasn’t that the way Sharon expected him to be? For their entire marriage she had looked to him for his decisive leadership, just as the employees of Carlson and Tuck and his clients around the world did. Was this not the role in which he’d been cast? But had he begun to take it all too seriously? Had he become, as Melanie and now his wife suggested, an arrogant tyrant?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be imperious and I apologize if I have been rude to Amanda. Why don’t you go see how she’s doing?” John suggested to the surprise of them all. It was not his usual habit to publicly apologize for his actions.

  Sharon left her seat and walked to the guest bathroom in the hallway. She put her ear to the door, expecting to hear sobs, but instead it was the sound of Amanda’s retching that greeted her. Concern enveloped her as she knocked on the door. “Mandy, are you all right? May I come in?”

  After several seconds, an ashen-faced Amanda opened the door. “Are you feeling sick?” Sharon asked.

  “A little. My stomach has been kind of upset the last couple of days.”

  “It must be that flu bug that’s going around,” Sharon said as she laid her hand across Amanda’s forehead to check for fever. “You don’t seem warm, but would you like to lay down for a while?”

  “Maybe I should go home. I can call a car to come pick me up,” Amanda suggested.

  “Nonsense. You’re spending the night, just as we planned.”

  “But Mr. Carlson—”

  “John asked me to apologize for his behavior,” Sharon told her, stretching the truth a tad, but for good reason. She could not bear the thought of Mandy spending her Christmas with the maid. It was terribly sad that her parents seemed all too happy to let strangers look after their child. “He’s been under a lot of strain lately at work, and he’s taking it out on everyone. You�
�re always welcome in our home,” Sharon said, giving her a hug.

  It was well after midnight when John and Sharon said goodbye to their guests and went up to bed. Mandy had retired to the guest room shortly after eleven, pleading a sour stomach. In truth, her stomach was fine, but she still felt uncomfortable around John and was reluctant to place Sharon in the middle of their mutual dislike.

  Sharon changed into her pale pink silk nightgown and sat down at the vanity to brush her hair. John approached carrying a shimmering gold bag with tissue paper speckled with confetti peeking from the top. He took a moment to view their reflection in the mirror before gently removing the brush from his wife’s hands and laying it on the table. Slowly John pulled Sharon to her feet and turned her body into his.

  “I’m sincerely sorry if I said or did anything to spoil your evening,” he said softly. He marveled at the ease with which those words slipped through his lips. He could tell by the surprised but pleased look on Sharon’s face that Melanie was right—a sincere apology meant a lot and carried much more weight than any expensive gift ever could.

  “She really is a good girl. If you just took the time to get to know her, you’d see.”

  John let her comment slide without response. He still had his apprehensions about Amanda Weiss, but he was done with that topic for the evening. “Merry Christmas. This is for you,” he said, handing her the bag.

  Sharon rummaged inside and pulled out the mother-of-pearl purse John had found at the flea market. She pulled open the elaborate turquoise clasp with curious admiration. The clutch was lovely but it certainly wasn’t new.