“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” Officer Marshall said. “Was it a drug business?” he asked, his lips twitching.
“Goodness no!” Claire put her hand on her heart.
“I’m jus’ givin’ ya a hard time, Mrs. Thibodeaux.” He chuckled. “Go on, call your husband. He can come pick you up now. You’re clear.”
Claire closed her eyes for a second and thanked God for getting out of this mess. When she opened them, Officer Marshall was handing her the phone on his desk. She gulped. Gavin was going to find out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with now, she thought.
She picked up the clunky black receiver, and punched in the numbers, her hands shaking.
“This is Gavin.” His voice sounded so professional and serious on the other end, probably because he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hey,” she said nervously. “It’s Claire. Don’t freak out, but I need you to pick me up from the police station.”
“What happened?” His voice got louder, panicked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m totally fine,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Will you just come and get me, and I’ll explain everything in the car?” She could only imagine what was going through Gavin’s head.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
She hung up and gathered her phone and purse from the front desk before walking outside with her head down. She spotted Kimmy sitting on a wrought iron bench in front of the station. The sun had already set, and the old streetlamps in the parking lot were on.
“Oh my god,” Kimmy said, standing up and hugging Claire. “You’re out. I’m so sorry about this. I feel like it’s all my fault. I had no idea Mr. Bernard was doing that kind of stuff, I swear, Claire.” She pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her bag. “Are you okay?”
Claire shook her head slowly, thinking about everything that had just happened—it had been an emotional few hours to say the least. And soon, Gavin would be there, and she’d have to explain everything. She sat down on the bench and put her head in her hands. The scent of Kimmy’s cigarette smoke engulfed her.
What am I doing? Claire asked herself. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Kimmy, it had been one big distraction from what she needed to do: talk to Gavin. Even though things had improved with him, she still had never confronted him about the fact that he was going to a strip club and lying to her about it. And look where all of this denial had gotten her. Their marriage wasn’t fixed. It simply had a Band-Aid on it.
“Claire?” Kimmy asked, sitting down next to her. “Are you okay?” she asked again.
Claire massaged her temples with her fingers, wishing she could just go back to that night two months ago when she saw Gavin getting the lap dance. She wished they’d had an honest conversation then and that she’d never gotten caught up in all this.
Claire looked out into the parking lot and saw Gavin’s truck pull in. She looked over at Kimmy and put her arms around her.
“Thank you for everything. You’ve been a real friend.” With Kimmy’s eyes heavy on her, Claire stood up, grabbed her bag, and walked away.
• • •
CLAIRE CONFESSED EVERYTHING in the truck to Gavin—how she’d seen him getting a lap dance, how she’d confronted Kimmy, and how the two girls found a way to help each other. Gavin sat in silence, his jaw clenching harder at her every word. She told him how she happened to be at the strip club at the wrong time and how the whole thing was a big misunderstanding.
He continued to drive in silence. Claire nervously asked, “Aren’t you gonna say something—anything?”
Gavin finally turned his head toward her and slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “You want me to say something?” he asked, livid. “Here’s what I have to say: I am so disappointed in you, Claire. We have a reputation to uphold in this town and you almost ruined everything for us.”
A reputation to uphold? Just like that, Claire broke, her months of frustrations coming to the surface. “You’re being so hypocritical, Gavin! You know what you did, but now you’re holding me to a different standard than you hold yourself?” She scoffed. “What you did was way worse than what I did. You betrayed me and our marriage. I, on the other hand, was trying to help us—I wanted you to feel attracted to me again.” Her heart thumped quickly in her chest. “But you know what? I don’t care what you think anymore.”
For the first time, she understood completely what Kimmy was talking about when she said it wasn’t really about what the guys thought—it was about her, it was about how she felt about herself. And right then, as she called out Gavin on what he really was, she felt empowered, just like Kimmy said she would.
They stared at each other in heated silence. Finally, Gavin spoke, an eerie calmness in his voice. “I’m willing to work on it if you are.”
She knew what he was saying. But could they do it? Forgive each other and move forward? It wouldn’t be the same naive relationship. She thought about their perfect daughter, their perfect house, and the congregation she loved so much. She didn’t want to disrupt all that she had worked so hard to build, did she? But deep down, she knew the answer, the one she’d been trying so adamantly to deny. “I’m tired of working on things for you. I’m ready to work on things for myself.”
“What are you saying?” His tone was urgent.
With a heavy heart, she said, “I think we need some time apart.” The words echoed throughout the quiet truck.
“Do you want . . . a divorce?” Gavin asked, his voice breaking.
“I don’t know,” Claire said. “But I do know we can’t go on like this. If we have any chance to make it, we both have to look hard at ourselves and figure out if this is what we still want.”
Gavin stared at her with barely contained rage. She knew how it would look to his parishioners when word got out that they’d separated, and he wasn’t used to her standing up to him. But he must have seen the resolve in her eyes, because after he dropped her off to get her car at The Saddle, he screeched out of the parking lot.
Later that night, after Gavin had packed a bag and left for his parents’ house, Claire pulled out her phone and tweeted her last message from Gavin’s account: @Pastor_Gavin: “The sun will rise tomorrow, and you will, too.”
44
madison
MADISON CURLED UP with her Chucks on the seat and leaned her head on the window. The stench of a fellow passenger’s onion sandwich made her want to vomit, or maybe it was Cash . . . or the fact that her dad was dying . . . or the gin and tonic from the night before. She didn’t know for sure. But her stomach roiled as she sat watching the rain pour down outside. A bird flew by, dropping its business on her window.
“Shit just follows me everywhere . . .” she said under her breath, shaking her head.
Her phone buzzed on the seat next to her. In the split second before she picked it up, she secretly hoped she’d see Cash’s name. Maybe he realized what an ass he was being, she thought. An apology would be nice. She took a deep breath and braced herself. But it was just a weather alert.
She scolded herself for being foolish and holding out hope where there was none. Then she shut her eyes, wishing her mind would quiet itself enough to sleep. She hadn’t gotten any the night before. Her mind had spun restlessly, churning up old memories of her dad, like how when she was little, she’d walk behind him as he mowed the yard, fascinated by the little path of freshly cut grass he left in his wake. Or the time when she was six, and they made a dollhouse out of a refrigerator box. He let her use his camo duct tape for the wallpaper, and they made curtains out of one of his old black T-shirts.
“This is the most interesting dollhouse I’ve ever seen,” he had told her, scratching his chin and admiring their work.
He was such a good man. He gave to charity even though he didn’t have a lot, he went to work, even when he was feeling bad, and he never missed an opportunity to make Madison feel special, even when she felt like she didn’t deserve it.
She won
dered what he was doing now, if he was thinking of her and remembering the same things she was. She didn’t know what to expect when she got to the hospice center. Would he be on his last breath? Hell, would she even make it in time to say good-bye? God, please let him see me and know I made it. She didn’t want his last memory of her to be her leaving.
As the bus rolled down I-59, Madison tried to understand why someone like him would be taken out of this world when such mean and selfish people got to stay. It just didn’t make sense.
She leaned her head back on the plush seat. Death isn’t fair. But she knew it was inevitable. She couldn’t help but wonder what her life would look like when she neared the end. Would she be old? Would she be married? Would she be looking back on a life spent with someone like Cash, who caused her so much anger, or someone like her dad, who made her feel loved?
George. Her mind flashed to him. She wondered if she hadn’t left him, would he have been by her side right now, holding her hand, supporting her through all of this? She closed her eyes, her heart heavy with all she’d already lost and everything she still had left to lose.
• • •
“DADDY?” SHE SAID quietly as she tiptoed on the hardwood floors into his room at the hospice house. Her blue fishing lure charm bracelet jingled softly. The room was painted a warm yellow. A lush tropical evergreen sat on the mahogany dresser. The last bit of sun slanted in through the windows along the far wall. Everything about this place seemed lively, happy, and healthy except for Allen, who lay still in the twin-size bed with his eyes closed.
Her mom lingered by the door as Madison sat down on the bed and held her dad’s fragile hands in hers. He didn’t stir and his pulse was weak beneath his paper-thin skin.
“Daddy,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Daddy,” she tried again, struggling to breathe through her tears.
“I’m gonna leave you,” her mom said, putting her hand on her shoulder. “I’ve said my good-byes, so take your time.”
Madison nodded and watched her mom shut the door behind her. “Daddy,” she said one more time, gripping his hand harder. The words finally loosened themselves from her tongue. “I have so much to say right now, but I don’t even know where to start.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to know that you’re so much greater a person than I’ll ever be, but I’ll always strive to live like you did. With passion. And love. And kindness.” Her eyes blurred as the tears came faster. “Thank you . . .” Her voice cracked with emotion. She took another deep breath to compose herself.
“Thank you for all those fishing trips where you taught me much more than fishing. Like how to be funny and how to swear and how to dream.” She wiped her tears away, the fishing lure charm chiming on her wrist. “I just can’t imagine life without you. . . . I truly don’t know how I’m going to get through it. . . .” She trailed off, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “But I promise—I vow right here, right now—that I will keep your spirit alive with me for the rest of my life.” She broke down and cried into his chest. “I’ll try to keep laughing, and loving, and seeing the good in people like you do.” She squeezed his hand again. “And I want you to know Mama and me’ll be fine. I’m gonna take good care of her and make sure she’s happy and comfortable and everything else you want her to be. I don’t want you to go, Daddy, but I understand that you have to—I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”
She kissed his forehead and hugged him once more. “I love you, Daddy.”
And though he lay still, his breath ragged and pulse slowing, she could have sworn she saw his lips curve up in one last ghost of a smile.
45
gabrielle
THE BLINKING CURSOR stared back at Gabby, taunting her as she searched for the right words for her college scholarship essay. After the long day working at the day care, her brain felt like mush, but the deadline loomed—forty-eight hours to be exact—so she grabbed a root beer, pulled up a chair at the office desktop, and tried to come up with something . . . anything.
As nice as it was being in the day care when screaming sticky kids weren’t all up in her face, it was eerie being in the church complex after hours, when it was so quiet and empty. This was how so many of those horror flicks she watched on Netflix started, after all. But she knew staying after hours was the only way she’d be able to write her essay in peace. Her mom, while a very pleasant houseguest, couldn’t stop talking or humming, bless her heart. Despite the quiet, Gabby had spent the last two hours staring at that screen, trying to come up with the perfect answer to the seemingly simple question: “Which experience in your own life has influenced you the most?”
A few things had come to mind. She started to write about her experience growing up in Section 8 housing. How she and Claire would play “Fancy House” and pretend they lived in mansions. But she wondered if that really influenced her life, other than teaching her to pretend things weren’t as desperate as they seemed. Then she tried talking about growing up with a single mother, and how she and Elaine had to be there for each other, but she didn’t want the scholarship committee to think she was trying to win with a sob story.
The cursor kept blinking. She kept thinking. Finally, she started to type:
Have you ever wanted something so bad but were told you couldn’t have it? I’ve often felt like I’m the poster child for this. Time and time again in my life, I’ve dreamed and worked toward something only to hit the big wall of “no.” One of the hardest moments of my life was when I was told I couldn’t go to college—not because I couldn’t get in, but because I couldn’t afford it.
I know you asked for one single experience, but I’d like to lump together all of the “no’s” and “you can’t do that’s” into one. They, as a whole, have influenced me more than anything else. Without these individual setbacks throughout the years, I don’t know if I would have finally gotten to the point where I am right now, saying, “Enough is enough! It’s time to make things happen.”
After twenty-one years of being told I can’t have these things I’ve wanted so badly, I’ve finally learned my lesson: I’m not going to take no for an answer anymore.
I am writing this essay in hopes of getting financial help so that I can finally go to college. Of course you can say no (and you might), but for the first time in my life, I’m happy to say that I plan on doing it even if someone tells me no—because in my heart, I believe that dreams should come true and some things are worth fighting for.
Gabby looked at the essay and took a deep breath, starting to edit bits and pieces of it. The day care’s doorbell rang, the shrill sound echoing through the empty room.
Her eyes shot toward the door, her heart beating fast. Who would be trying to get into the day care at 8:00 p.m.?
The doorbell rang again. Gabby grabbed a baseball bat from the sports closet and walked cautiously to the front door. She peered through the glass and her heart leaped into her throat. There, on the other side of the door, was the most unexpected sight of all: Tony.
She wanted to collect her thoughts, but it was too late—he’d already seen her. He raised a hand in greeting. She sighed in nervous anticipation and slowly opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Tony stood there with a serious expression, his hands in the back pockets of his Levi’s. “Can we talk?”
“How did you find me?” Gabby crossed her arms over her chest, as if holding herself together.
“I have my ways,” he said, attempting a half-smile. “Can I come in?”
She nodded slowly and opened the door wider. They stood in the entrance, a small hallway covered with the kids’ drawings on one wall, and the other covered in chalkboard paint. She leaned her shoulder against the blackboard wall, the now familiar shame and embarrassment resurfacing. “Why are you here?” she tried again. It’d been a week since they ran into each other at the mall. Maybe he wanted to tell her off, or rub it in her face that he’d moved on.
Tony leaned his head against six-year-old Ja
cob Marston’s monster artwork. He had written the words “I smell” in big letters above it, an arrow pointing to the drawing, and it now appeared as though the arrow was pointing to Tony’s head. She bit back a small smile, then took a deep breath and braced herself for what he was about to say.
He shook his head angrily. “My dad told me everything. . . .”
Her heart stopped, not expecting to hear that. Why would Mr. Ford make such a big deal out of not telling Tony . . . and then tell him? Was it to hurt her even more? To prove that she was so devious that she would use him for a trade? To let Tony know just how trashy her family was? Anger festered inside her, making her palms sweat.
“I’m so ashamed, Gabby.” Tony lowered his eyes. “I’m so . . .” He paused. “I’m so sorry.”
She looked up in confusion. “Wait, what?”
“Can we sit down?” He started walking into the main playroom. “There’s a lot I have to say to you.”
Gabby led him to a small kids’ tea table in the middle of the room. “Have a seat,” she said, still thrown by his words. They both sat down, their knees bending so much they almost touched the floor.
“My dad did a horrible thing,” he said, fiddling with the tiny teacup in front of him.
She grabbed the other teacup, needing something to fidget with. “No, Tony, I did a horrible thing.”
“Okay, true,” he said with a soft smirk. “You both did horrible things, but I’m here to apologize to you on his behalf.”
“Why did he tell you what happened?” She leaned forward and put the teacup in the saucer.
“Seeing you at the mall the other day . . . man, that really screwed me up.” Tony rubbed his neck and glanced up at the ceiling.
She nodded. Seeing him again had haunted her, too. As much as she tried to put the relationship to bed, to be thankful to have Elaine by her side, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. When her car had gotten a flat the other day, her first thought had been to call him. And when she’d decided to go to college, she’d wanted to run to him and say, “Look, I can be the girl you fell in love with.” But then she’d remembered the withering look he’d given her and knew she’d never be anything but a liar in his eyes.
The Young Wives Club Page 28