Waters Fall

by Becky Doughty

  “Why are you doing this, Nor? I am their father, and I’d like to attend school functions, too.”

  She just pointed at his phone and eyed him across the table. “The school doesn't keep their schedules a secret, Jake. All you have to do is call. The kids write most of the stuff on the calendar anyway. Maybe you should look at it every once in a while.”

  The calendar was a sore spot for him and he made every effort not to look at it. He could not, for the life of him, remember to have the kids write stuff down on it, but now that Nora was Commander-in-Chief, they dutifully marched in the door, made a beeline for the refrigerator, filled in any necessary information, and pulled out the tray of snacks their mother had prepared for them; cheese slices, vegetable sticks, and their favorites, dill pickles.

  She also took over making the evening meals. The first time she found him in the kitchen when she and the kids arrived home from school, she acted surprised, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

  “Oh! What are you doing in here, Jake?”

  “I'm making dinner.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you, but you need to let me know ahead of time,” she said, not unkindly. “I already have plans for dinner. Remember? Feeding the children is my job, not yours. If you would like to provide a meal for the kids, check with me, first, okay?” She spoke to him like he was a presumptuous guest in her house.

  “Then what, exactly, is my contribution to this household?” He followed her to the table where she was setting out dishes.

  “I've been wondering the same thing for years.”

  He’d walked right into that one.

  That was less than a week ago. Now, here it was their anniversary, and the weather couldn't be more appropriate. Nora hadn't said a word about what she wanted to do, and he didn't dare make any plans without consulting her first.

  He got up and straightened the couch, folding his bedding up and stuffing it into the bottom drawer of the TV console. He still couldn't believe he'd spent the last two and a half weeks sleeping out here. It wasn't uncomfortable, but he missed his bed, his room, his wife. Oh, how he missed sleeping next to his wife.

  “I miss my wife,” he muttered. Things were so different now. They conversed only about things like home maintenance and grocery lists. She left with the kids in the morning, not returning, even for lunch like she often used to, until the end of the day when she picked Felix and Leslie up. And since they both had after-school activities right now, the house stayed quiet for a long time.

  Jake should have been getting a lot of work done but he couldn’t focus. Hours went by in a day without his being aware of time passing. Then he'd scramble to have something to show for his time before everyone got home.

  Not that it mattered anyway. It wasn't like she was checking up on him.

  Well, today, he was going to make an effort to change things. They couldn't continue on like this indefinitely, and he was just going to have to take the bull by the horns.

  He would begin this day with taking her breakfast in bed. Nothing fancy, just things he knew she liked. He put on the coffee, strong the way she preferred it, located her favorite blue mug, and set it on a serving tray he’d found among the cookie sheets. In the breadbox was a new package of cheese bagels, a local bakery specialty. He toasted one and dug around in the fridge until he found the tub of whipped cream cheese. He also discovered some seedless grapes in the fruit drawer and added a bunch of them to the tray.

  Jake tapped lightly on the bedroom door but there was no answer. When he pushed it open ahead of him, he held his breath, anticipating the worst. He reached the foot of the bed before he realized she hadn't heard him at all. She was sound asleep, lying so that she faced his side of the bed, one hand spread out on the blanket where his chest would usually be. He could almost feel her fingers resting over his heart.

  He set the tray on his nightstand, sat down, and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Gently, tenderly, he kissed her knuckles. A tremor of pleasure raced through him at the sight of her smiling dreamily as she opened her eyes to look up at him.

  The light of recognition dawned on her face as she jerked her hand out of his. “Jake!” She said his name like she'd been expecting someone else. “What are you doing?”

  He shook his head, alarm tripping through him. “I'm bringing you breakfast in bed. It's our anniversary.”

  “Oh.” She had the grace to sound a little embarrassed, but Jake didn’t feel any better.

  “Yeah. Oh. So I take it that wasn’t me you were dreaming about?” Why? Why, oh why did he have to open his mouth? Why did stuff like that always come out of him? He would give anything to take those words back. Nora closed her eyes and rolled away from him, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders.

  “Go away, Jake. I'm not hungry.”

  “Come on, Nora. Give me a break. I'm sorry.”

  “You didn't knock.”

  “Yes, I did. But you were sound asleep.”

  “You shouldn't have come in, then.”

  “It's our anniversary, for crying out loud, Nor! When are you going to forgive me? How long are you going punish me? I screwed up, okay? I'm sorry. I don't know how to be any more sorry than I already am. What else do you want from me?”

  The answer was soft, muffled, and he had to lean forward to hear her. “What?”

  “I want you to undo it.”

  “Undo what?” He figured he knew what she meant, but it seemed such a silly thing for her to say. He couldn't just “undo” everything.

  “Never mind, Jake. Go away.”

  He sat there a long time, waiting, hoping she'd say something more, something hopeful. Finally, he stood.

  “There's coffee and breakfast. I'm leaving it here. I'll feed the kids this morning.”

  “Thank you.” He was just closing the door behind him when she said it, but he knew he wasn't imagining it. Those two little words stopped him in his tracks.

  Hope. Only a flicker, but it was there. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the kitchen to fry up some eggs.

  The day was no different than any other, and the evening was spent as usual, too. But after the kids were in bed, instead of sitting down to work at the table again, Nora opened a bottle of her favorite sparkling wine. She poured herself a tall glass of the bubbly, amber liquid, and disappeared into the bathroom, humming softly as she walked past the living room where he sat on the couch, pushing buttons on the remote control. He heard the bathtub filling with water, and he breathed in the aroma of sandalwood and tea rose drifting out into the hallway; bath oils she reserved for special occasions.

  He turned the television off and sat forward, listening intently to the sounds coming from down the hall. He'd shared this experience with her enough times that he could close his eyes and imagine exactly what the scene would be in there.

  …clothes puddle on the floor, one pale foot, then the other, stepping over the side of the tub. The water, way too hot, turning her skin pink as she sinks down into the scented bubbles. Her sigh of pleasure as she leans back against the little blow-up pillow she keeps in there for just this purpose. She’s closing her eyes, one hand draped over the lip of the tub, the other holding her chilled glass high….

  Jake didn't like taking baths, but he loved it when she did. She used to invite him in with her, but after a few miserable attempts, primarily due to the painfully high water temperature she preferred, he opted to wait his turn until she was almost done. They usually talked quietly, twining fingers, the world completely tuned out, while they tuned in to each other. The night inevitably ended with a session of the kind of love-making that left her purring and curled up against his side, and him a satiated and happy man. Jake never felt more like her hero than he did in those moments.

  He needed her tonight. He was going crazy without her. He stood up and began pacing the room. This was insane. She was his wife. He was her husband. Why couldn't they work this out?

  The open floor-plan of the livi
ng room, dining area, and kitchen, gave him ample space to wander. He opened the fridge door, closed it again. His jaw was beginning to ache from clenching his teeth, and his shoulders were tight, his breathing shallow. Balling his fists, he shoved them in the pockets of his 501s.

  He crossed to the sink where he splashed water into a glass. Half of it sloshed over the rim as he brought it to his lips, spilling down the front of his shirt.

  His hands were shaking as he set the glass down too close to the edge of the counter, then he cursed as it toppled into the sink, shards of glass skittering around the porcelain basin. He grabbed a paper towel and carelessly swept the pieces together to scoop them out.

  “Ouch!” He cursed again as a sliver of glass pierced his finger just below the bend of the first knuckle. He turned on the faucet and ran his finger under the cold water, blood turning the fragments still in the sink into swirled Murano glass. Jake roughly pinched and squeezed his finger, reveling in the pain it was causing—who would have thought one tiny little shard could hurt so badly—until he had forced the sliver out far enough to grab it.

  He threw it in the sink with the rest of the pieces and stared at the mess, then smacked both hands flat against the counter, leaving a smear of blood behind.

  “Enough!” He was done playing this game. No more. He was going to his bedroom, he was going to get undressed, and he was going to wait for his wife in his bed. He was going to demand his conjugal rights, and then they were going to sleep pressed together, right where they both belonged.

  He marched down the hall and paused outside the bathroom door, just to ascertain that she was still splashing around in the tub. He heard her singing softly and paused, listening. She had such a pretty voice; it’d been a long time since he'd last heard it. Suddenly she stopped mid-phrase, and there was silence. He had taken one stealthy step away from the door when she called out.

  “Jake?”

  He closed his eyes, berating himself for lurking outside her door. “Yes?”

  “Can you do me a favor?” She sounded very relaxed.

  “Of course.” As long as it isn't sleeping on the couch anymore.

  “Can you bring me my robe, honey?”

  12

  Nora couldn't concentrate. Meeting with Renee Nash always set her on edge, but the woman liked to spend money.

  “I absolutely adore everything you do, Nora, dear.” Renee's standard uniform consisted of skin-tight, cleavage-baring outfits, and extremely high heels, hair that looked like it might shatter in the slightest breeze, and enough make-up to stock a high-school girls’ dormitory for at least a year.

  The first time they'd been introduced, Nora was terrified of what she might ask of her. Her taste in home décor, however, was superb. The woman loved clean lines and antique color schemes, beautiful, quality furniture with classic accents. Her style was a perfect blend of all things elegant, and Nora loved putting ideas together for Renee's home. It was her life-style, and the fact that Renee felt she must discuss every last detail of every party, every event, every affair she put together, that left Nora drained. Today, Renee was sharing with her about another kind of affair in which she was involved.

  “You remember Tanya Sharpston, the woman who introduced us? Of course you do. Well, I still can't figure out how it happened, but I'm sleeping with her husband.” She giggled like a school-girl, and fluttered her bejeweled fingers over her enormous bosom. “I think I'm in love, Nora, but this really throws a damper on my relationship with Tanya. I mean, we're co-hosting the annual Wine and Dine Gala at the Country Club next month, and every time I look at her I just want to weep. I feel so sorry for her, so badly for what Freddy and I are doing to her, and she doesn't even know!”

  “You say that like it would be better if she did know.” Nora was appalled at how reasonably the woman spoke, as though her behavior was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “It would be! I wouldn’t feel so badly, then!” Renee frowned a little, then she looked up at Nora with a resolute expression, her scarlet-tipped fingers waving decisively in the air in front of her. “I really must tell her. Get it out in the open. That way we can clear the air and get on with things.”

  Nora just shook her head. Get on with things? How does one just get on with things after news like that?

  “Oh, don't look at me like that, Nora, dear. Everyone knows I like other women's husbands. And everyone knows that Tanya hates hers. Sleeping with him is one thing. That happens all the time. I mean, him with other women. But now that I’m falling in love with him, I don't think I want to share him with anyone, especially someone I have to work with every day. Besides,” Renee winked at Nora, as if divulging a saucy secret. “She's younger than I am.”

  Nora couldn't come up with anything appropriate to say in that moment. At least not out loud. She's going to talk to the woman? To clear the air between them? How would telling Tanya that Renee was sleeping with her husband clear the air between them? The words were all inside her head, but Renee responded as if she’d spoken them aloud.

  “Oh, Nora, dear, I'm not such a monster. I don't expect him to divorce her. She deserves his name and his money after all the years they've had together. And three kids, to boot. She's a great girl, Tanya Sharpston is. She's been a wonderful friend, she's got a creative flair that is so charming, and she's put up with a multitude of Freddy’s affairs over the years. I'm sure I'm just the most recent in a long line, just as I'm sure there will be more that come after I'm gone. I'm not stupid. But I do want him all to myself while our little affair lasts, and I hope she'll understand.”

  “I'm not sure she will, Renee. I don't even understand, and I'm not the one you're doing this to.” Nora couldn't keep quiet any longer. “It’s really a horrible situation all the way around. Someone has to get hurt, you know?” She shook her head. “I feel sorry for all of you. Especially the kids.”

  “Goodness, Nora, dear. You don't need to worry about the kids. They're so pampered and protected, the world could blow up around them, and they wouldn't know it. But don't you feel sorry for me, either, not for one moment. I'm having the time of my life! I feel young and alive again. I'm barely sleeping, and I haven't looked better in years! Love is the elixir of youth, Nora, dear.” She leaned forward across the table between them, and Nora had to look away just in case the woman's left breast escaped its confines. “I can tell when a woman is in love. Do you know how? She looks like she's had a face lift, that's how. And I,” She sat up and jabbed at her chest, inadvertently setting everything into motion. “I ought to know about face lifts.”

  By the time Nora left Renee's home, she was practically in a stupor, numbed by the woman’s ceaseless banter about the lifestyles of the rich, if not famous, her relentless gossip. It was almost two o'clock, and she hadn't eaten since breakfast nearly seven hours earlier. She still had a few hours before she had to pick up kids, so she debated whether to go back to the office and just finish out the day, go home to eat something, or stop somewhere along the way.

  She spotted the familiar exit just up ahead. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled off and made her way toward the cluster of shops. In the parking lot, she maneuvered her silver car into the same spot she’d parked in the last time. She could get some food when she picked up the kids. Right now, she suddenly wanted to see Tristan’s Isolde more than anything else in the world. And, since she didn't really feel like lying to herself, she admitted that she wouldn’t mind running into the artist himself today either.

  It had been exactly one month since she’d been here, and even though she and Jake were sleeping in the same bed again, that was about all that was back to normal. She still refused to allow the children to ride with Jake, and even though he told her she was being paranoid, he didn't really argue. She couldn't decide if that made her more or less confident in the sincerity of his apology.

  Revamping her schedule required a major effort on her part, and she often felt more overwhelmed than ever. The rewards of spend
ing those extra hours with her children made up for the exhaustion, but not having those hours to invest in her work was taking its toll on her business. She had turned away a few very influential patrons, not because she didn't want them, but because she couldn't get to them within the time period they requested. All she could do was refer them out to another decorator she knew was both reputable and had great taste. Even though she'd received a lovely gift basket and thank you card from Suzi's Shenanigans, the woman was still her competition, and it riled her up to have to feed Suzi clients who should have been her own.

  It was that very gift basket, however, that had her unable to get Paradise Lost Art Gallery off her mind this week. It was a typical gift basket, complete with pretty notepads and pens, fancy teacups, some organic Middle Eastern tea, a tin of butter cookies, and some honey sticks. The card, however, was a piece of art. The image on the front was a print of a piece she’d seen hanging near the front of the gallery, and Nora couldn’t help but wonder if Suzi had purchased the set of cards there. Since the moment she’d received it, she couldn’t stop thinking of visiting again.

  Or the way Tristan had looked at her.

  She was not an imbecile. She knew that entertaining thoughts of going back, especially under the volatile condition her marriage was in at the moment, was dangerous. Somehow, though, after hearing Renee's callous description of the love-triangle in which she was involved, Nora felt an even greater need to return. It didn't make sense, really, but she almost felt like she had to prove that her attraction to Tristan was nothing like Renee's vulgar relationship with her friend's husband. It really was only a bit of flirting between two people. It would never go anywhere; she was not like Renee.

  Just as she turned off the engine, her phone rang. She dug around in her purse for it and checked the number.

  Vicky Johanson.