A Wife Scorned: Complete Series

by Laci Mitchell

  A Wife Scorned: The Complete Series

  Laci Mitchell

  Copyright © 2017 by Laci Mitchell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Photo by Canstockphoto/Bialasiewicz

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Want More?

  The Seduction of Mrs. Valentine Sample

  Also by Laci Mitchell

  1

  July 15, 1958

  “Happy Birthday, Gracie.” My voice echoed in my solitary kitchen, and it only reinforced the empty feeling inside me. When I imagined what my fortieth birthday would be like, I never thought it would be spent alone. Perhaps I should have. It’s not like he had ever made any special effort on any of my other birthdays, so why should this one be any different? At least with the other ones I had my girls with me.

  “Buck up. This is how it is.” I sighed and shook my head. Now I was reduced to talking to myself, and my lips tightened for a second. I didn’t want to become a lonely old woman who talked to herself. So I took a deep breath, put on a smile on my face and opened the bakery box I’d brought home with me.

  Inside was a tiny cake, just enough for one person, and the sight of it inside the box, so small and alone put a lump in my throat. I tried to swallow past it, and it sat there like a hard ball until my efforts melted it away. I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself. I got the cake as a special treat, because on every other birthday I’d had since I’d gotten married I had made my cake myself. For this one, I wanted to splurge and have someone make it for me.

  The telephone rang in the other room and I stepped away from my lonely birthday cake to go answer it. It would most likely be Gloria, my oldest daughter, since I’d already gotten birthday wishes earlier today from my other daughter, Beverly. The chance it was my husband Earl was very slim, since calling me on my birthday would require him to tear himself away from the tramp he was currently shacked up with.

  I shoved aside thoughts of my louse of a husband, and put a smile on my face and in my voice when I picked up the receiver.

  “Happy Birthday, mom. I really wish I could be there with you, but with Don starting his new job and the baby, it’s hard to get out of town right now. I’ll come and see you as soon as things are a little more settled here. So what are your plans for today?”

  My mouth turned down. Hearing my daughter’s voice made me realize how much I missed her. This year had been especially hard, since it had taken both my daughters farther away from me.

  “Oh I’m just having a quiet evening at home. I got a cake from the new bakery in town and it looks delicious.” Despite my cheerful tone, I could hear just how pathetic my lack of birthday plans sounded.

  The silence that stretched out on Gloria’s end of the line said she thought so too.

  “You mean he can’t even be decent enough to celebrate your birthday with you?”

  Gloria didn’t have to say his name for me to know who she was talking about. Ever since she’d grown up and gotten married, she’d talked about her father in that scornful tone.

  “Gloria, remember he’s your father and deserves your respect.”

  “And what about the respect you deserve? I know you tried to shield Bev and me from what he’s doing, but we’re adults now. We all know that he doesn’t live in that apartment so he doesn’t have an hour commute to work. He’s living there because of her. Does he even come home at all now?”

  “No.” What more could I say? My girls, especially Gloria, were not blind to what their father was doing. The excuse he’d been using for years was that the drive to work was too long from our home here in the suburbs and he needed an apartment in the city. At least he’d come home on weekends when the girls were still here but since Beverly had gotten married and there were no more children left at home, he didn’t feel the need to pretend anymore.

  “It’s not fair that you have to be alone while he’s out having his fun.” At twenty, Gloria had yet to learn that life wasn’t fair, and I hoped she never would. I’d learned it when I was twenty-five, which put me seven years into my marriage. That was when I first became aware of his indiscretions. At least he’d done me the courtesy of trying to hide it then, which he didn’t bother with now. “You should have an affair of your own.”

  “Excuse me?” A laugh burst out of me, and at least Gloria managed to lighten the dismal mood. “Thanks for the laugh darling, I needed it.”

  “I’m being serious. Why should you spend all your time alone? Find someone to be with, and get a bit of your own back.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m not going to have an affair. I’m a grandmother, for God’s sake.”

  “You’re a woman of forty, and as far as I can tell you aren’t in your grave yet. You’ve alway taken care of yourself, and my friends are always saying how young and beautiful you look.”

  “I’m going to go now, Gloria, before this conversation gets any more ridiculous. Thank you for calling and for the birthday wishes.”

  “Don’t waste any more of your happiness on him. I’ll call you next week.”

  I put the phone back in its cradle before Gloria could say anymore. Imagine me having an affair. The notion was laughable. What my daughter didn’t seem to realize was that the rules governing me were different from the rules my husband lived by.

  I was well aware that my husband didn’t deserve my loyalty, but there was my reputation to consider. I was a married woman, had been married for twenty-two years, and I wasn’t some young bohemian. I couldn’t throw everything away for the sake of a fling. It was bad enough that the other women in the neighborhood looked at me with pity when it became apparent that my husband wasn’t going to come home. There was enough talk going on about my marital situation without adding an affair into the mix.

  I stood up and went back to the kitchen. No matter how much I tried to push it away, the notion of having someone in my life like my husband had in his wouldn’t go away. But honestly, how would an affair even be possible? All the men I knew were married, and there wasn’t a single one of them who interested me in the slightest, even if I had the inclination to be a home wrecker, which I certainly didn’t.

  No, it would be better if I found something to occupy my time now that my girls were grown and my husband had abandoned me.

  The cake was sitting on the counter, exactly were I’d left it. It looked even more sad and lonely. Even putting a single candle in the center and lighting it did little to cheer it up.

  I drew in a deep breath, and the lonely part of me made me close my eyes and make a wish. I wished that I had someone in my life who would devote themselves to me like my husband devoted himself to his mistress.

  With a shake of my head at my foolishness I opened my eyes and blew out my birthday candle.

  It had been a week since my birthday and no knight in shining armor had shown up to sweep me off my feet. I felt rather foolish for believing in wishes enough to make one. I wasn’t five any more, and needed to stop skulking around my house waiting for life to happen to me. I was in a rut, and I knew it, so I decided to start ga
rdening again. The yard work had been Earl’s domain, but he wasn’t around anymore so it fell to me.

  An inspection of the garden shed had shown me that it was too neglected to be of use, so I’d put an ad up at the market a couple of days ago. So far no one had shown any interested in doing some odd jobs around here, and I would have to figure out a way around it.

  I went to the phone and dialed the number that was etched in my brain. The call connected and she answered the phone. It was Saturday, so I knew he was home.

  “I’d like to speak to my husband, please.” How I managed to keep a civil tongue in my head when I had to call I’ll never know, but I did.

  While I waited for her to get him, I tapped my foot on the floor. I hated asking him for anything, but despite what he seemed to believe, he had some responsibilities for maintaining this house.

  “Hello Grace. What can I do for you?”

  “You can fix the garden shed. I want to start gardening, and the shed is falling down. It’s becoming a hazard.” I heard my husband’s long suffering sigh and gritted my teeth. It was getting more and more difficult to turn a blind eye to what he was doing, but if I wanted him to fix the shed I needed to hold my temper.

  “So hire someone to do it. I give you money, so you should have enough to hire someone. I’m too busy with work to do it.”

  Too busy with work, how often had I heard that excuse thrown around during our marriage? It was a joke at this point, and had become my husband’s way of saying that he didn’t have time to be my husband anymore.

  I didn’t bother saying goodbye to him, and hung up the phone. My fingers curled into my palms and my nails dug into my flesh. Why did I stay? Why did I put up with this?

  I knew the answer to that. My upbringing had not prepared me for anything but to be someone’s wife and the thought of starting my life over at the age of forty terrified me.

  The doorbell rang. I uncurled my fingers, smoothed my hands down the side of my cotton capri pants and pasted a smile on my face. I opened the door, and a flash of thought went through my head for a split second that maybe wishes did come true. Then I got a good look at the man standing on my front stepMichael and realized he was much too young for me.

  “Hi Mrs. Randall. I’m here about the ad you put up at the market? About fixing the garden shed?” He smiled at me and his teeth flashed white against the glow of his tanned skin. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place him. I was certain that I would remember a man with hair as dark as ink with such striking blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” I was usually very good about putting names to faces, but his name eluded me. I was certain that I would remember meeting him, despite the tickling in the back of my head that I did know him. Most men I ran into did not come this tall or broad.

  “It’s me. Michael Burke. I went to school with Gloria.”

  “Oh Michael. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Please come in. How long has it been?” I stood aside and he stepped into my house, and I saw just how tall he was. He was at least an inch over six feet tall, and I had to look way up to look him in the eye. I tightened the muscles in my stomach and thrust my bosom out a fraction until I realized what I was doing. I swallowed hard and chastised myself. He was the same age as Gloria, which put him at twenty years old, half my age. He shouldn’t be making my pulse pick up and my palms sweat like this. I shouldn’t be seeing him as a man I wanted to put hand on me.

  “It’s been about five years now. I’m at loose ends at the moment and decided to come back to my home town. I’m looking for some odd jobs and when I saw your ad I thought I’d come over and take the chance that you hadn’t found anyone yet.”

  He’d changed a lot in five years. He’d been gangly the last time I’d seen him, and now he’d filled out, become a man in the intervening years.

  “Did you move back here with your wife?” A young man as good looking as him had to be married.

  “Oh, I’m not married.” He looked into my eyes, the edges of his crinkling at the corner as he smiled down at me. I suppressed the relief that went through me when I found out he wasn’t attached. It was none of my business, and had nothing to do with me. He was here to see about fixing the shed, and that was it.

  I cleared my throat and looked away. “The shed is out back. Why don’t we go look at it so you can see what your getting into.”

  “Lead the way.” He swept out his arm and I turned toward the French doors at the back of the house that would take us out to the back yard and the shed.

  His large, warm palm touch the small of my back for the briefest of seconds, and I jumped inside my skin. I felt like I’d been branded, and told myself to stop being so ridiculous. The last thing I needed to do was simper at him like some school girl with a crush when I was old enough to his mother.

  “So how are the girls?” His voice was a deep rumble behind me, and I closed my eyes for a second. What a voice. It was smooth as silk, as deep and dark as a fine whiskey. It made me forget what he’d asked me for a second. I recalled myself just in time to stop from looking like an idiot.

  “The girls are great. Both are married now and Gloria just had a baby boy a few months ago.” I didn’t know what else to say, and for a moment I wished he hadn’t asked me about the girls. Although I was proud to be a grandmother and loved my grandson, with this good looking young man beside me, I felt old with him knowing that I had a grandchild.

  “That’s funny because you don’t look old enough to have grown daughters let alone a grandson.”

  I felt heat creep up my cheeks at his words. God, now I was blushing. If I start simpering I’m locking myself in the house and never coming out. I needed to get a grip on myself. He wants me to give him a job, so of course he’s going to try to flatter me.

  I didn’t acknowledge what he said, and finally we were at the shed so we could talk about something else besides how young I looked.

  “Well this is the shed. It’s pretty old and I’m afraid that it’s starting to rot.”

  Michael walked past me, and the light summer breeze in this part of the yard wafted the smell of his aftershave over to me. I closed my eyes. God, he even smelled good. I had to press lips together to suppress a whimper.

  What was wrong with me? I never reacted to men like this. I didn’t know what it was about him that made my libido rear its head, but it better calm down before I made a complete fool of myself. The idea that I wanted this young man was silly enough. The notion that he would even entertain reciprocating my interest was ridiculous.

  As long as I was realistic, I supposed there was nothing wrong with looking. He was a well put together man, and my eyes followed him as he walked around the shed. With his back to me, I saw the breadth of his shoulders which tapered down to a trim waist that could only belong to a man this young. Life hadn’t softened his body yet, and a fleeting thought of what a body like that would feel like on top of me, filling me, filtered through my head before I could stop it.

  “I’m afraid that it’s going to have to come down.” He turned back to me, and I quickly raised my eyes to his and tried to make my mind go blank. The last thing I needed was for him to read my desire for him in my eyes.

  “Would you be able to build a new one?” I tried to focus. He was here to fix a shed and not anything else.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. It will take me about a week to do it once I get the materials together. That’s if I have the job?”

  If I had any sense at all I should tell him that on consideration I’d decided that it would be better to by one of those pre-made sheds. Five minutes in his company and I was thinking about things that I shouldn’t be, at least not about a man so much younger than me. But apparently I didn’t have any sense because I stuck my hand out toward his.

  “You have the job if you want it. When do you want to start?”

  “I can start tomorrow.” He took my hand and shook it. The skin on his palm was rough, and his grip was fi
rm but not crushing when he took my hand. I swallowed hard. Now all I could think about was those hands on other parts of me.

  I walked him back into the house, to the front door and managed to say goodbye like a normal person. Fifteen minutes with him and I was ready to melt. As I sagged against my closed front door I knew it was going to be a long week.

  2

  Michael showed up bright and early the next morning. Day one of the shed project and I’d already had to take a cold shower. I could blame the heat for it, but it was relatively cool inside the house, and I didn’t usually need a cold shower on days as hot as this. I knew that Michael was the culprit, even if he didn’t know it.

  The man was like a magnet to me, and I was getting behind on my housework. I had a routine that I went through each day, cleaning my house whether it needed it or not. Since it was only me here now, it didn’t need as much work as it used to when I had two children at home, but habits were hard to break.

  So why then was I glued to the French door that led out to the back yard as if the most fascinating event was unfolding before my eyes? No matter how hard I tried to keep myself busy, I found myself wondering back here to look at him. My God, I hadn’t seen such a beautiful man in a long time, and I justified my spying on him with the notion that I was a red blooded woman who could appreciate a work of art. If a beautiful painting hung in a gallery, I could look at it without buying it. If I saw a delicious cake in a bakery window and admired it, it didn’t mean I was going to eat the whole thing. It was the same thing here. I could appreciate the beauty of him without doing anything about it.