She tucked her hands into her pockets and hunched her shoulders against the bitter cold. “But we’d been married for so long, and you’d worked so hard to turn your life around, to regain my trust. I was so proud of you. I did what I thought was the right thing. And you know what? I can’t explain why, but those last months we had together, even though I was in love with another man, those were good months. Some of the best of our marriage. Until it all backfired on me, in a messy, terrible, irrevocable way. I was devastated when you died. And so very sorry for my part in it. I hope you can forgive me.” The wind whipped at her hair, and she swept it back from her face. “God knows, I’ve tried for four years to forgive myself.”
It was snowing hard now, and she needed to get home. Rob would be worried. Holding her hair away from her face, she said, “I won’t be coming here for our little chats any more. It feels too much like cheating on my husband. Marriage vows mean something to me, Danny. This ring I’m wearing—it means something to me. Love and trust and fidelity. He’s my husband now. He’s the one I owe that fidelity to. I’ve moved on with my life, with the man who’s my soul mate, and we’re starting a family together. And while I hope you’re happy for us, it really doesn’t matter, because I don’t need your approval any more.”
She stood there a moment longer, snow falling all around, big flakes now, wet and splotchy and beautiful. Said to him, “This is my last goodbye.”
And turned and walked back to her car.
Rob
He was halfway home from the real estate office, his headlights on low beam because of the snow that drifted toward him in huge, hypnotic, cottony flakes. Driving past the cemetery, he was so mesmerized by those swirling flakes that he almost missed seeing the car parked beneath the giant elm at the top of the hill. A pea-green Mitsubishi. His wife’s car. Beside the car stood a slender figure in a black wool coat, arms folded against the cold, a brisk wind blowing that dark, silky hair around her face.
The pain hit him low in the belly. What in bloody hell was she doing in the cemetery, at dusk, during a snowstorm? What could she possibly have to say to Danny that couldn’t wait until tomorrow? He automatically hit the brakes, saw the flash of red in his rear-view mirror. Then let his foot go limp. What was the point? What was the point to any of it? What was the point in trying to build them a future when she kept running back to the past?
The anger rose in him slowly, but to be truthful, it had been building for some time. He drove home, stomped into the house in a mood so black and murky that Paige, peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink, took one look at him, instantly recognized a MacKenzie in high dander, and spun back around without speaking. He tore off his jacket, tossed it on a chair, stalked to the refrigerator and opened it. Nothing looked any different than it had two hours ago. He slammed the door shut, rattling glass jars and sending a coffee cup, inexplicably left atop the refrigerator, crashing to the floor. It broke neatly in two, and he bent and picked up the matching halves and heaved them into the trash.
Headlight beams flashed across the room as his wife swung into the driveway, climbed the hill, and parked beside his Explorer. He heard her come into the shed, pictured her kicking off her shoes and hanging her coat. Precise and fastidious person that she was, she would never leave her coat tossed on a chair the way he had. He should have seen it years ago. They weren’t compatible, not in any way. Not when you analyzed their basic personalities. She was a goddess, while he was just some lax, high-functioning slob. It was amazing that she’d stuck with him this long. Of course, with her god lying six feet deep, she could afford to go slumming.
She came into the kitchen, his goddess, exquisite in a body-hugging burgundy sweater, snowflakes still on her hair and eyelashes. There was a glow to her that he’d never seen there before. Even dead, he thought bitterly, Danny still held more sway over her than he ever would.
“Where the hell have you been?” he snarled.
Those elegant eyebrows went sky-high. “Did I just walk into the wrong house? Should I go back outside and try again?”
He squared his jaw. “Answer the question, Fiore. It’s not that hard. Where the hell have you been?”
With infuriating calm, she said, “I had an appointment in town. I already told you that. What’s this all about?”
“Don’t lie to me. Lying doesn’t look good on you.”
Something in those green eyes of hers caught fire, some dark fury that set his blood pumping. Good. He’d managed to push the right button. Now they could get down to it.
“I am not lying to you, MacKenzie. I don’t lie. You know that. Not to you, not to anybody. So I don’t know what’s gotten your ass into a pucker, but I don’t intend to fight with you tonight, so you can just back off!”
“I saw you at the cemetery.”
“Oh, for the love of God. I stopped there on the way home. What’s your point?”
“My point? My point is that it’s time you decided whose wife you are. His, or mine. Because you can’t be both!”
“For God’s sake, Rob, how many times are we going to play this scene? I can’t believe we’re playing it again.”
“Yeah? Well, neither can I, cupcake. Do you have any idea what it’s like for me? Every time you come back from that place, I feel like I just swallowed ground glass. But I keep my mouth shut and hold it in, even though it kills me to see you going back to him, over and over and over. The guy’s been dead for four years, but you still can’t break the umbilical cord.”
“You are a complete and utter idiot! And you couldn’t be more wrong!”
“Oh, so I’m the idiot in this little scenario? Well, I don’t know. Let’s examine a few facts and see what we come up with. I treat you like a queen. Hell, if you asked, I’d probably go flat on the ground and let you walk all over me wearing cleats. That’s pretty much what we already do every day anyway. But that’s not good enough for you. I’m not good enough for you. Because you’d rather live in the past, with your memories of a dead man, than build a life in the present with a man who’s alive and breathing and would take a bullet for you!”
“Stop it!” she said, and glanced warily at Paige. He followed her gaze, saw his daughter standing by the sink, her face bone-white.
“Go to your room,” he told her.
“But—”
“You heard me. This is between my wife and me. Go to your goddamn room!”
The kid looked stricken. She glanced at Casey, who gave her a brief nod, then back at him. Said to him, “I hate you!” And fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.
“Nice,” Casey said. “You must be really proud of yourself.”
“He was a shitty husband, you know. You never could see it, but it was obvious to everyone else.”
“This isn’t about Danny. This is about—”
“Like hell it isn’t!”
“—you and your goddamn insecurities!”
“Fuck insecurities! He was a selfish bastard who was too much in love with himself to even notice you were alive!”
“Maybe you should try psychotherapy. I hear it works wonders. And that’s utter bullshit. He loved me!”
“Not as much as he loved himself!”
“You are full of shit, MacKenzie!”
“You think so? Maybe I can refresh your memory. Who was it that kept you from starving when Danny had his head so far up his ass he couldn’t see that the cupboards were bare? Who was it that saved you when you were drowning in your pathetic little life in that dinky apartment on Beacon Hill, and Danny was too wrapped up in his career to see how miserable you were? I threw you a lifeline and saved your ass. I gave you the music. I sat with you, day after day, month after month, and spoon fed it to you until you could carry your own weight. Where was Danny when I arranged that abortion for you? He wasn’t the one who went with you to that hideous rathole of a doctor’s office, was he? And he wasn’t the one who held your hand and cried with you when you couldn’t go through with it!”
“I don’t understand. Why are you rehashing all this now? It’s ancient history!”
“You really don’t understand, do you? That just proves my point. I’ve loved you for two fucking decades, and you still don’t get it! When you lost his baby, sitting in a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor, I was the one who picked up the phone and called for help. And when they hauled you off to the hospital, and Danny went with you in the ambulance, it was me who got left behind to mop up all that blood. So damn much of it that I was terrified you wouldn’t make it to the hospital in time.”
“Oh, Flash.”
“And when Katie was born, and Danny was six thousand miles away? I talked my way onto that private maternity ward. I was the first person, outside of hospital staff, to hold your baby. And five years later, when she was lying in that bed, fighting for her life—”
“Stop. Please.”
“I was there for you. But you sent me away. Why the hell did you do that? Even after what happened in Nassau, when we both knew we could’ve had something amazing if only you’d opened your eyes and actually seen me, you chose him! You left me on my ass in the dust, and you went back to him!”
His voice broke, shaming him, but he couldn’t stop now if he tried. “And when Mister Wonderful died, I cooked your meals and vacuumed your floors and reminded you to eat and sleep and bathe. I held your goddamn hand until you could walk upright by yourself again. And what did I get in return? You sent me away. Again. You always sent me away!”
His wife was on the verge of tears now. He could see them glistening in her eyes, but he wasn’t ready to stop. He had to finish what he needed to say. Had to get all the poison out of his system. “You stopped writing with me. I think that’s the most hurtful thing. I’ve been so lost, trying to work without you. My partner, my collaborator, the other half of me. I told myself it was because Danny wasn’t around anymore. That you’d just given up on the music. That I was a big boy, and I could handle it on my own. But I’ve been struggling, trying to reinvent the wheel, because writing without you is a whole different animal. Then I come home from tour, and I find out you’ve been writing with Paige. How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”
“Be serious, Rob. You know it wasn’t—”
“I don’t think I can do this anymore. This marriage is killing me. I feel like some emotional ping-pong ball, being bounced from one corner to the next. I’ve given everything I have to you, and it just doesn’t seem to be enough. Well, you know what? There’s this thing called self-preservation. I think it’s time I took advantage of it.”
“What the hell are you saying? That you’re planning to leave me?”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told her the biggest whopper that had ever come out of his mouth. “Yes.”
“I don’t believe you!”
The fury returned. “Yeah? Well, watch me!” He strode across the room, picked up his coat, shoved his arms into it, and headed for the door.
“Stop it!” she said. “This is ridiculous! You’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re not big enough to stop me.” He crossed the shed, flung open the door and plunged out into the cold.
“It’s a snowstorm, for God’s sake. Rob!”
He squared his jaw and stalked toward the Explorer. “Leave me the hell alone.”
“This won’t solve anything. Damn it, we need to talk. You need to listen to me—” She caught him by the arm, stumbled along behind him as he slogged through heavy, wet snow.
Bitterly he said, “That’s the problem. All I do is listen to you. But you don’t listen to me.” He reached the Explorer, opened the door, and turned on her. “I’m done listening!”
Behind Casey, his daughter stood in the open doorway of the house, silently watching them. “Let go of me,” he said.
“No! I love you, you moron! You’re a total jackass, but I love you.”
She was shivering in the sweater and jeans. He could see it. Could feel it. Freeing his arm, he said, “Go back in the house, Fiore. You’ll end up with pneumonia. Jesus Christ, you’re not even wearing shoes!”
“Damn it, MacKenzie, you come back here!”
Ignoring her, he climbed into the Explorer, fitted the key into the ignition, and shut the door in her face. He adjusted his seat belt, cranked the engine, and rolled the window down. She stood beside the car, arms crossed, visibly shuddering, snow falling all around her while a single tear tracked down her cheek. That tear was nearly his undoing. But he couldn’t back down now. He’d taken this too far. He had to carry it through to some kind of conclusion.
Suddenly drained, he said again, “Go back in the house.”
“Where the hell are you going?”
He had to escape, before his own tears started falling and he humiliated himself more than he already had. “Right now? As far away from you as I can get.” He rolled the window back up and crammed the car into gear. Halfway down the driveway, he glanced into the rear-view mirror.
His wife was still standing there, barefoot in the snow, watching him drive away.
Casey
What the hell had just happened?
She stood in a blinding snowstorm, barefoot and freezing, watching as his tail lights gradually disappeared from sight. Feeling a hand on her arm, she turned to see Paige standing behind her.
“Come inside,” her stepdaughter said. “You’ll end up with hypothermia.”
Like an obedient child, she accompanied the girl into the house. “Sit,” Paige said, and pushed her gently into a kitchen chair. “You stay there. I’ll be right back.”
Fingers stiff with the cold, she buried her face in her trembling palms. Paige returned with a blanket and tossed it over her shoulders. Teeth chattering, Casey clutched the edges of the blanket and closed it around her while her stepdaughter knelt in front of her, peeled off her sopping wet socks, and began rubbing her feet with a towel.
Casey reached out a hand to touch the girl’s hair. Paige glanced up, met her eyes, then returned to her task.
He’d be back. Rob MacKenzie was generally an easygoing guy, the sweetest man she’d ever known. But every so often, he had an epic meltdown. This wasn’t the first one she’d witnessed. Despite what he’d said, he would come back. No matter how mad they got at each other, he always came back.
Paige continued rubbing, while Casey desperately searched her mind for something that would explain her husband’s behavior. What could have pushed him over the edge? Obviously, her visit to the cemetery. Correction: her ongoing visits to the cemetery. But were those enough to trigger a meltdown of this magnitude? There’d been the cufflink. That had really stuck in his craw. And apparently he was royally pissed because she’d been writing with Paige. She had honestly believed he would be happy to know she’d finally broken past that wall of silence.
But judging by the vitriol he’d spewed, the anger and frustration had been festering inside him for some time. He’d made some serious accusations. How much truth was there to his words? Had she been remiss in her wifely duties? Had she taken him for granted? Had she been so self-involved that she’d simply ignored his wants and needs?
“Is it my fault?” she said aloud.
“It’s not your fault,” Paige said, still rubbing.
“How do you know that?”
“Because.” Paige rocked back on her heels. “I’ve seen the way you are with him. You’re open, and genuine, and you clearly think he walks on water. But he has this major hang-up about Danny. He can talk all he wants about you not being able to let go, but personally, I think he’s the one who’s still hung up on the past.”
Her stepdaughter picked up the towel and stood. “He has this sick and twisted view of things. Even I can see the truth. I’ve tried to tell him, but he won’t listen to me. I’m just a kid.”
“How do you know so much at fifteen?”
“Please. I’m almost sixteen. There’s a world of difference.”
“Yes, you are. And there is. Thank yo
u. For the blanket. And the foot rub. I can almost feel my feet now.”
“No big deal. Anybody would have done it.”
“The Paige who came to us three months ago? I’m not sure she would have.”
“You’ve been good to me. And I know you’re not my mom, and nobody will ever replace her. But, hey. You’re okay.”
***
They ate a mostly silent dinner together. Every time she heard a car approaching the house, Casey jumped out of her chair and ran to the window. The plow passed, first going one way, then the other. But still no sign of Rob. She knew he’d need time to cool off. But as that time grew progressively longer without so much as a phone call, needles of fear began to dance in her stomach. Danny had died on a night like this, on a slushy Connecticut highway. It wasn’t fit outside for man or beast, yet the man she loved was out there somewhere, driving around, angry and upset. She told herself he was level-headed—which was mostly true, except when he was being an idiot. Told herself the Explorer had 4-wheel drive with decent enough traction to get him over the Himalayas, let alone a back road in Maine.
Told herself he wasn’t holed up in some motel somewhere, contemplating a divorce settlement.
Two hours passed, then three, then four, and she flashed back to the time, many years ago, when Danny had stayed out all night. She’d lain awake until dawn, and when she finally heard his key in the lock, she’d been furious. All those hours she’d spent awake, imagining all the terrible things that might have happened to him. At the peak of their knock-down-drag-out fight, he’d confessed to cheating on her. She’d been pregnant that time, too. She’d been so devastated by his admission that she’d lost the baby, slouched on the kitchen floor in Freddy Wong’s roach-infested apartment building, the blood pouring out of her and pooling between her legs. Funny how those old memories came back to haunt you at the times when you were most vulnerable.
Days Like This Page 31