Zach raised himself up on his elbow. “Do you ever think he suspects anything?”
She sat on the edge of the sofa and buckled her shoes. They had those pizza slice–looking heels. His daughters called them wedges. “Sometimes,” she said. “I’m always the most nervous when I see him right after we’ve been together.”
“You get nervous? You don’t act nervous with me.”
She stood and straightened the edge of her blue blouse, then leaned over and ran her hands through his hair, brushing it to the side. “I’m not nervous with you. It’s out there in the real world where I get nervous.” She kissed him softly. “I’ll see you soon.” With that, she grabbed her handbag and slipped out the door.
In the real world. This wasn’t the real world for either of them, was it? There were no bills here. No fussing children. No nagging wife or preoccupied husband. This was easy. She didn’t dictate his day or demand explanations. She just enjoyed him. He hadn’t been enjoyed in a long time.
But he wasn’t stupid. He witnessed the tsunami effect of relationships like this one virtually every day. He knew what they had together was based on illusion.
What would their life look like in the real world anyway? Family dinners. A mortgage. In-laws. All he was doing was acting out a fairy tale that in the end would hold nothing but heartache. Familiar shame spread through him like the cancer that it was, burrowing into the places where some semblance of life remained.
Just a few hours ago he had been sitting in church—a church where he’d invested his time and energy since it started two years ago. And just a few hours before that he’d woken up in his bed with his wife, the woman he’d promised to love and honor.
How did he get from there to . . . here?
He had always tried to be a good guy, do the right thing. He’d even saved himself for marriage, something a lot of the guys in his Fellowship of Christian Athletes chapter at college couldn’t claim. He’d been a leader on his college football team, someone his teammates respected. He was a well-thought-of lawyer, a man others came to for advice.
This sinking had happened so gradually. Little by little, he’d found himself seeking comfort in places he’d never dreamed of visiting. And now here he was. Sprawled on the sofa in his office as if he had no common sense, no self-worth, no moral compass. No better than some of the jerks whose marriages he’d helped dissolve over the past few years.
Mental battles like this made him want to tell Caroline—just lay it all out there and let the chips fall. He wanted something to shake her, to awaken her to the fact that he existed. That he wanted to love her—or at least at one point had wanted to love her. Because what they’d had at first was real. When they first met, she was vulnerable and captivating. She was crazy about him and trusted him. But she could never break free from the strong arm of her mother or her own brittle perfectionism, and she could never forgive him for his shortcomings. Sometimes he wasn’t sure there was room in her tightly controlled life for him. Maybe she wouldn’t even care if she learned the truth.
He knew better, though. She would care. And he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her hurt. Of watching his children realize he wasn’t the man he had claimed to be. Or worse yet, of the pleasure Adele would take in realizing he really was the failure she thought he was.
He got up from the sofa and put on his clothes, then ducked down the hall to the bathroom and studied his reflection in the mirror. The blue Izod shirt clung to his chest in the right places and made the blues of his eyes explode—at least Caroline used to tell him that when he wore this color. At forty-two he still had something to offer, and if Caroline couldn’t see it, there was someone who could. Someone he made happy.
What amazed him was how he could make someone so happy and feel so miserable at the same time.
“Scarlett Jo, did you have more coupons for Tylenol Precise?”
She put her hands on her full hips and gave a big smile to “my Ted,” as she liked to call him, the manager of the Rite Aid up the street from her house. “Are you flirting with me or trying to give me a good deal?”
His smile was just as broad. “Scarlett Jo, you know I take care of my couponers. That Tylenol stuff is free this week if you’ve got that coupon from the newspaper.”
“I’ve got this.” She opened her three-inch binder and pulled out the Rite Aid sheet she’d printed off the Southern Savers website. Learning to navigate that site—the full extent of her computer savvy—had paid off big-time. In fact, if she ever met the person who started that thing, she’d pick her up off the ground and plant a kiss right on her. That woman had given Scarlett Jo the ability to feed her family on a preacher’s salary without mortgaging her youngest child. Though there were days when she’d be willing to do that with almost any of them.
“I’ve got me six coupons right here,” she said, waving her stack.
“Well, go enjoy yourself. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You know I will.” Scarlett Jo wasn’t what you would call an extreme couponer. She couldn’t walk into a store and get a thousand dollars’ worth of stuff for free. But she had learned how to pay little or nothing for toothpaste, toothbrushes, and deodorant. And today she would be getting six bottles of Tylenol Precise for free.
She was still flipping the pages of her binder when Amanda, her young chocolate-haired bombshell of a jogging neighbor, rounded the end of the aisle. As soon as she saw Scarlett Jo, there was no denying the slight look of panic on her face.
Scarlett Jo loved a challenge like that. She scooted her cart up next to Amanda and didn’t even pretend to avoid the woman’s stares at her large binder. “Last week I came in here and got me ninety-three dollars’ worth of stuff for six dollars and sixty-two cents.”
“With those?” Amanda pointed at the binder as if it had the plague.
“Yep. Have you ever couponed?”
Amanda’s expression made it clear she thought Scarlett Jo had just asked the stupidest question ever.
“I know,” Scarlett Jo said. “Time sucker, right?”
Amanda raised a manicured hand to her blue-spandex-clad chest, her large diamond catching the fluorescent light above them. “Well, with preschoolers running around my feet, I can’t imagine adding anything else to my life.”
Scarlett Jo laughed and snorted. “Oh, honey, do I know that feeling. At one point I had four under the age of seven, and I’m telling you, I had sweet tea on an IV drip in those days. If someone had looked at me and told me to try couponing, I would have run down the street screaming like a crazy woman. But I’ve got to tell you, I have saved oodles. In fact, you want to hear something? I actually put this binder together with all my coupons while I was sitting in first class on my way to San Francisco.”
She saw Amanda’s hands shift slightly on the blue plastic handlebar of her cart.
“First class!” Scarlett Jo repeated. She punched Amanda’s arm and worried for a minute that she might have just broken her humerus or bruised her triceps. “That flight attendant looked at me kind of like you are, and I just told her, ‘Honey, it’s these coupons that got me up here in first class.’”
Amanda’s dark-brown eyes darted right and left as if the woman was seeking an escape, though she kept a fixed smile on her face. Scarlett Jo leaned in closer. She’d learned a long time ago that the people who resisted friendship were often the ones who needed it the most. “Want me to teach you?” she asked. “I’m great at it.”
Amanda backed up. Her lips pressed together. “Ah, no, I think I’m good for today. But thank you so much for the offer.” She edged her cart in the opposite direction down the aisle.
“Well, you just let me know if you ever want to.”
Amanda gave her a nod and didn’t even bother pushing her cart in as she made a beeline for the store’s exit—itemless.
“I’m here every Sunday afternoon,” Scarlett Jo called after her. “If you aren’t, the other couponers will take all the stuff and leave you waiting
until Ted gets his next shipment on Thursday. They’re crazy women!” She raised her hand to wave good-bye. “Still would love to have you over for dinner!”
Scarlett Jo watched Amanda as she left. The woman’s black workout pants stretched tightly around her tiny rear end. Scarlett Jo had no idea how she had little ones and a body like that. The woman must jog to Memphis and back every day.
Scarlett Jo patted her own thighs and muttered, “I know, girls. I promise I won’t ever put you through that. Now, let’s go see what we can get in the chocolate aisle.”
“Tucker, go get the groceries out of the car for me,” Scarlett Jo said as she walked into the house.
His shoulders immediately slumped. “Aw, Mama. Seriously?”
“So serious,” she said, dropping her purse on the counter. “Where’s Dad?”
“In there.” He tossed a hand over his shoulder toward the screened-in porch as he headed for the garage door.
“Hey, Tuck,” she said, a slyness in her voice.
He turned his mop of dark curls toward her. “Yeah?”
“There’s chocolate in there. You bring the bags in, you can have two pieces.”
She wouldn’t have to ask twice. She walked out to the porch and was surprised to see Tim McAdams there. Tim and his wife, Elise, were long-time friends. They’d taken the step of faith with Jackson and Scarlett Jo to start this new church and now served as music pastors. Elise led the singing while Tim played the keyboard and led the band.
“Well, I didn’t expect to see you today, Tim. Where’s Elise?”
He stood quickly. “Um, she should be at the house.”
“You don’t have to leave. Sit. I’ll make you something to drink. Apparently, Mr. Hospitality didn’t offer you anything.”
Jackson turned to Tim. “Want something to drink?”
Tim laughed. “No. I would have asked.”
“See, that’s what I tell her. But she thinks I should offer first.”
Scarlett Jo blew air out of her mouth.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jackson said to Tim before she could ask another question. Both men’s body language told her she didn’t need to offer anything else.
She went into her bathroom and began to unload the bags that Tucker had put in there for her. All the chocolate was gone, of course. She’d told him two pieces.
Jackson came and leaned against the door. “When have you seen Elise last? Outside of church, I mean.”
She opened the door of the cherrywood cabinet. Her couponing stash stared back at her—dozens of toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste, and containers of deodorant, all stacked in neat rows. If World War III ever broke out and they were sequestered in a bomb shelter, at least they would smell good.
“It’s been a while.” She answered her husband as she added another toothbrush to the stash. “Why?”
“Nothing. Just wondering.”
She stopped what she was doing and turned toward Jackson. “Is that why Tim was here? Is he concerned about her?”
“I told him I’d keep his confidence. Just wondering when you’d seen her last.”
She scoured her thoughts. “Quite a while, honey. Honestly. Haven’t heard much from her. Just see her at church.” She didn’t add that she’d check on her. But she would.
“Okay.” He walked over and kissed her on her cheek. “So what did you steal today?”
“Today they paid me three dollars and fifty cents to take eighty-two dollars’ worth of stuff off their hands.”
“If I ever see you diving in a Dumpster, that’s it. I’m outta here.”
“How about a recycling bin?”
He didn’t say a word, just walked from the room. And she left to go get her chocolate back from Tucker.
Grace checked the caller ID of her ringing phone as she pulled into the studio parking lot. It was Tyler. After he left yesterday, he hadn’t come home, still wasn’t home when she left for work. His absences these past two weeks had gotten longer and longer, and he had stopped using physical therapy and working out as an excuse. He had used Jeff a few times, but most times he didn’t even feel the need for an excuse. When she’d asked, he let her know in no uncertain terms that he was a grown man who didn’t need a GPS for a wife.
She sent him to voice mail—a rarity for her, but she just didn’t have it in her to talk to him right now. Not before work. Plus, he should be where normal sane people were at this hour—in bed, asleep. So he could endure for a little while what it felt like to be ignored. She grabbed her outfit and bag from the backseat and headed into the one place where she could count on every detail being scripted, organized, and timed down to the minute. The tight schedule made her feel safe. She treasured what she could trust.
She punched her code into the keypad by the front door, a security light on the side of the building illuminating the numbers in the still-black morning. When the lock released with a click, she let herself in. Her flip-flops were the only sound in the quiet hallway as she made her way to her small corner office on the second floor. The station was nestled in one of Tennessee’s hills, and she loved the solace of nature her view afforded her, though she wouldn’t actually get to see it until after the newscast. She pulled a pink sweatshirt from her bag and put it on over her white T-shirt. Leo kept it cold enough to hang meat in here, and he was still always sweating. She shivered slightly as she sat behind her desk and turned on the computer, waiting for the world to make its way to her fingertips.
She shifted the orange-and-white picture frame that held a picture of Tyler and her from one of the UT–Vanderbilt games they had gone to. The ceramic felt cool beneath her fingers. She studied her grinning face in the picture. She loved football. Then her eyes moved to Tyler’s face. He showed the camera his professional smile, the one he reserved for things he endured. She wondered if that was how he felt most days in regard to their life together.
Movement at her door caused her to look up. She saw Leo’s stomach first. It was hard to miss because it was always the first thing that entered the room. “Howya doin’ this morning, Grace?”
This wasn’t a normal “Howya doin’.” This was a real question, a question that seemed to include the possibility that she wasn’t doing well.
She pushed the photo aside. “What is it, Leo?”
He fidgeted with the top of his pants, working to fold down the white lining that his belt pushed to the top. “I was waiting for you to call in this morning. To beg me not to run this story.”
She let out a soft laugh, then started pecking on her keyboard. “I don’t have time for games today. I’ve got to work on my script and get ready for the show.”
“You haven’t talked to Tyler this morning?”
She raised her head quickly. “I’m too mad at Tyler to talk to him. And why would you ask me that anyway?”
“Oh, so you know.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Know what?”
He shook his head as if she was making this too difficult. “Have you talked to Tyler at all this morning? In the last two hours?”
She remembered his picture on her caller ID. “No. He tried about five minutes ago, but I didn’t want to get into an argument right before I go on the air.” She pulled her chair closer to her desk. “That does none of us any good.”
Leo shifted in his Reeboks. “Tyler was arrested last night on a DUI. Other networks have already called. They’re running the story.”
Time stood still for her in that moment.
“Grace—” her name came out of Leo’s mouth with a father’s tenderness—“we have no choice. We have to run the story.”
Then time was unleashed. Her thoughts ran wildly. They were like a bunch of first graders running off a school bus, and she didn’t know which one to grab first.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought for sure you’d know.”
Her hand came up to her mouth. “I can’t believe this. How . . . ?”
He walked toward her desk. “We got word about one
this morning. Apparently he was arrested around midnight, and his blood alcohol level was two times the legal limit. Didn’t it worry you when you got up and he wasn’t home?”
“He’s rarely home when I leave.” The vulnerable words came out before she thought about them. She scrambled to explain. “He’s just . . . he has a friend who’s going through a hard time. He’s been spending a lot of time with him.”
Leo scratched the side of his head, where a small remainder of hair resided. “I can’t bury this. It’s going to be covered.”
Her wits came back quickly. She grabbed for her phone. “I’ll call the other producers. This is just common courtesy. Professional etiquette. We wouldn’t do this to them.”
Leo tugged at his belt. “Actually, we have done this to them. We ran the affair of Callista McIntire’s husband last year. You know, Channel 2’s evening anchor. Trust me. We won’t get a pass here.”
Panic surged through her. Her life was about to be exposed, and on television at that. She couldn’t let this happen. “You’ll have to think of something then.” Her throat was so tight her voice came out in a squeak. “Because if this runs on the station I’ve given the last ten years of my life to, I’m quitting.”
His stubby hands rose quickly as if moving them could settle the tremors that had just announced the earthquake. “Now calm down. You’re being irrational. This, this is something I don’t have any control over. Besides, local news isn’t the only thing you have to worry about.”
Fear swallowed her whole. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Tyler is a professional athlete. I’ll be shocked if the major networks don’t run this story, but for sure the sports networks will.”
Her feet were moving before her brain could register all the ways her life was about to change. She grabbed her bag, and her words came out laced with panic. “You heard me, Leo. If you run this story, I’m out of here. And if you won’t try to get the other stations not to run it, I’ll do it myself.”
Secrets over Sweet Tea Page 9