“Excellent. That’ll certainly make the whole process simpler. I had no idea how involved construction was until we built our house….”
Serafine liked that Dr. Michael put so much stock in Raphael’s opinion. She could see the boy sit up a little straighter as they fell into a discussion about framing and rewiring. Raphael had a good head on his shoulders. He just needed a chance at working more than low-end jobs to help him focus his smarts in a proper direction. And with him to set the example, the rest of Virginie’s brood would follow suit.
She had a good feeling about the whole situation. Especially when Dr. Michael bullied the conversation back around to Bayou Doré. It was a smooth effort on his part, but he got her kin chatting about the differences between the lives they’d left behind and what they saw ahead for their futures in Natchez. He fished for information about family customs and religion, specifically.
Philip seemed to be the only one oblivious to what Dr. Michael was looking for. Marie-Louise had the gift of knowing as strong as Virginie had and offered tidbits about their church, which had been damaged in the storm. She explained how the gas-station sign from across the street had shattered the beautiful stained-glass windows. Raphael said he’d been helping his great-uncle repair the steeple before leaving town.
Raphael and Marie-Louise knew they were being interrogated and wisely sidestepped any tidbits of real value, since they had no clue what Serafine had done to the man. She didn’t step in to save them, either, since she was enjoying the show.
Serafine watched Dr. Michael hover on the brink of asking if the Baptistes practiced magic several times, but he couldn’t seem to get the question out of his mouth. She waited until every morsel of food on the table had been eaten before deciding to put the man out of his misery.
“Well, this has been a wonderful meal for getting to know each other.” She stepped into the breach when the conversation lagged, smiling when Marie-Louise seized the opportunity and bolted from the table like a jackrabbit.
“Time for pie,” she said. “Hope everyone has room left.”
“We’ll make room for your raisin pie.” Philip got up to help clear away the plates, no doubt hoping he’d earn a bigger slice.
“Now you know all about us, Dr. Michael,” Serafine said. “And we know more about you and Mrs. Jillian. Leastways, what you’re looking to get out of owning Camp Cavelier. You need to let us know what we can do to help.”
“Just keep on doing what you’re doing.” He shot her a dashing grin. “And I must admit that all the good food is an unexpected perk.”
“Me and my kin owe you proper, and the Baptistes always pay our debts. We’re a proud bunch.”
Dr. Michael waved a dismissive hand. “If you’re talking about the bridge, we’re square after that marvelous meal.”
“Fair enough. But there aren’t many jobs around that would hire on a whole family and give us a place to live. You and Mrs. Jillian have helped us out when we needed helping.”
“Even trade then. Like I said, we need good people to help run this camp.”
“And we will, but with my kin being so young and without a lot of references, you’ve still placed a lot of faith in us.” She smiled and switched gears. “Sounds like you’re pretty tuned in to Mrs. Jillian’s thoughts. Is that true?”
Marie-Louise hid a laugh under the running water.
Raphael shot a gaze between them and scowled.
Philip dug through the silverware drawer for the pie server.
Dr. Michael’s baby blues widened. His mouth popped open as if he wanted to talk, but nothing came out.
Serafine took that for a yes.
“Well,” she said. “It seems to me that a man with a pretty wife who’s itching for a weekend getaway should set about helping make her dream come true. Don’t you think?” She met his gaze and bit back a smile. “So let me ask again, what can me and my kin do to help?”
JILLIAN AWAITED Michael’s return, considering what she’d overheard at the office earlier. Had he noticed Brandi the way she’d apparently noticed him? Was he intending to stray?
From the depths of her soul, Jillian couldn’t believe he would behave that way no matter what was going on between them. Aside from her dad and brother, he was the most honorable and forthright man she’d ever met.
Or was she deluding herself? Michael was a man, after all, and a very virile one, even if life currently distracted them from that part of their relationship. The passion had waned enough so that she’d even resorted to fantasizing….
But what about Michael’s handcuffs? Didn’t they prove she wasn’t the only one noticing the lack? Sure, he’d claimed that she’d given him the idea after their conversation with Amelia Preston, but what else could he say? Admitting he’d needed something a little extra to get him in the mood would be tantamount to agreeing that she did look hippy in the blue dress she’d almost worn to Jenny Talbot’s wedding.
Jillian didn’t doubt Michael loved her. Not for an instant. Their marriage might be transitioning right now, but that was natural. After all, seven years was a milestone. The term seven-year itch came to mind. She knew too many couples who’d faced midlife crises and various itches in their marriages. Those crises usually started with a man buying a red pickup truck and ended with divorce papers.
While Michael might be exercising again and looking better than ever, he hadn’t mentioned anything about a new car…
Unless he was visiting dealerships tonight.
Jillian knew she wouldn’t sleep and decided to do a little research on the Internet about the developmental norms of marriages. Knowledge was power, she’d always believed, and if she understood what was happening, perhaps she might come up with a better way of handling her concerns.
She only needed to buy some time—until she got a strong support staff in place. Once she had the camp under control, and could entice Michael into weekend visits away and introduce the R & R that they hadn’t made time for in so long, he’d see the merit of owning the place.
She was sure of it.
A Google search yielded a variety of Web sites, and she surfed one after another until she found the site of a reputable marriage counseling agency that provided an overview of key issues challenging many couples in today’s busy society and suggestions about how to keep a marriage healthy.
A loss of passion in response to busy, duty-filled lives was one of them.
The approach to analyzing a problem’s cause and assessing various ways to combat the ill effects made sense to Jillian, so she bookmarked the home page. Then she read some in-depth articles about why many relationships slid down the continuum from blissfully enjoyable to barely endurable.
It was while she was reading about couples letting the weight of the world steal their leisure time that a pop-up ad stole the bulk of her computer monitor.
“Oh!” Rearing back in her chair, she blinked at the images—naked couples engaged in some shockingly graphic acts.
She closed the pop-up window.
Unfortunately, that seemingly simple act threw her into a loop of more erupting windows, image after image of bodies locked in lewd acts, body parts engaged with other body parts…skin, skin and more skin until she finally was forced to shut down the system manually to stop the show.
“What on earth is happening here?”
Scowling at the monitor, she braced for more pornography as she rebooted the system. She couldn’t imagine those ads had attached themselves to the site of a reputable psychological agency. Besides, she and Michael armed all their systems with the latest in security software. Firewalls should protect them from this sort of cyber-stalking.
While her security software scanned the computer, Jillian maneuvered through the browser functions, peeking inside the system’s folders to see if she could locate any file names that seemed obviously out of place. To her surprise, she found that the browser history only listed the sites she’d visited tonight.
A trip into the operatin
g system’s temporary files revealed the folder had been meticulously cleaned out, too.
Hmm.
Maintaining the computer fell under Jillian’s domain. She regularly emptied these folders to keep things operating efficiently but hadn’t touched them for several weeks. With all the running back and forth to the camp, she hadn’t booted the computer, let alone performed maintenance. Michael never troubled himself. She wasn’t even sure he knew these files existed, let alone were cleaned out regularly.
But if she hadn’t done the deed then he must have, which left her staring at the monitor wondering why he’d developed a sudden interest in pornography.
And how much trouble her marriage was really in.
7
A few days later
“CHARLOTTE, do you mind if I interrupt you?” Michael asked, cornering his nurse inside the staff room alone.
The rest of the staff and Jillian hadn’t returned yet from lunch and Michael had known he’d find Charlotte alone. Every Thursday she holed up in the staff break room with her feet up, reading the newly arrived issue of World News Weekly, one of the weekly magazines Jillian subscribed to to occupy patients in the reception area.
“Not at all, Michael. What’s up?” Charlotte set the magazine on the table in front of her and slipped her feet back into her shoes.
“Had a question I wanted your opinion on.”
“Shoot.”
Michael leaned against the counter in a casual pose he didn’t feel. “Did you and Larry ever talk about your fantasies?”
She blinked. “My what?”
“Your fantasies.”
“Fantasies? As in fantasy fantasies?”
He was speaking English, wasn’t he? But Charlotte’s disbelieving expression made it impossible to do anything but nod in reply.
“You’re asking me about fantasies?”
“Well, yeah. It’s sort of a delicate subject, and you’re a good friend to me and Jillian. Who else would I ask?”
“Just a thought, but your wife comes to mind.”
“She’s exactly whom I don’t want to ask. At least not until I figure out if women like to talk about this sort of stuff with their husbands.”
Charlotte shook her head, clearly not getting it.
Michael tried again, trying not to sound defensive. “I read that some women feel uncomfortable talking about this stuff. Something about fantasies not being reality. I just wondered what you thought. You were married for a long time.”
“How am I supposed to know whether or not Jillian would feel comfortable talking about her fantasies? I’m guessing the answer would vary from woman to woman. Listen, Michael, I’m going to give you some advice, whether you want it or not.”
“Shoot.”
“You married a very competent and proud woman. If you’re waiting around for her to ask for your help or support then you’ll be waiting forever. From what I see, Jillian asks. If you don’t step up to the plate right away then you’re going to get left by the wayside. She’ll blow past you and take care of everything herself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Huh? “Are you referring to Jillian being comfortable talking about her fantasies?”
“Here’s another bit of advice—ask your wife.” Her tone and scowl combined to make him feel like the king of the idiots.
“Guess I will.” Michael beat a hasty retreat, glad he couldn’t hear Charlotte’s thoughts right now.
Laughter rang out from exam room five—the room where Brandi currently worked on a patient. But Jillian heard more than Brandi’s girlish giggles. Her husband’s deep-throated laughter floated down the hallway, too.
Jillian hung up the telephone. Ike had just called to inform her that his tractor was going to cost upwards of two thousand dollars to fix, and he needed to know what account to write the check on.
She should have been able to answer the question, but as she hadn’t yet returned her accountant’s phone call…
The laughter again.
Taking a deep breath, she willed her thoughts not to trail down this path again. The past few days since discovering pornographic pop-ups on the computer had been an exercise in self-discipline. One off-guard moment and her imagination conjured up images of her new-and-improved husband climbing out of a pool wearing nothing but dripping water and a Speedo while Brandi oohed and aahed from the sidelines.
The idea of Michael cheating went against everything Jillian knew about her husband. Then again, so did pornography surfing. And turning down Charlotte’s fried chicken for salad.
Argh! She refused, absolutely refused to let her overactive imagination and some weak circumstantial evidence override her common sense. She’d been married to Michael for seven years. They’d dated during high school and college. She’d known the man since Donny had brought him home when she’d been three.
If Michael didn’t want to be married anymore, he would tell her. He would never sneak around behind her back with another woman. Some men might find that sort of behavior acceptable, but not Michael. He respected her too much. He respected himself.
More laughter filtered down the hall, Michael’s and Brandi’s. Their patient, Jillian knew, would be lying back in a dental chair, mouth open and eyes wide as she got a bird’s-eye view of the hygienist flirting with the dentist.
“What on earth is Michael doing in there?” Jillian whispered to no one in particular. If anyone in the busy reception area noticed the office manager chatting with herself, they all had the grace not to stare.
But ten minutes to check a patient’s mouth? This woman had been scheduled for a routine cleaning, for heaven’s sake. Brandi hadn’t even taken X-rays.
Jillian rooted herself to the chair, refusing, absolutely refusing to give in to the urge to stroll down the hall for a peek. When the phone rang, she snatched it up, grateful for the distraction.
“All right, girl,” Charlotte said from the doorway after Jillian had completed the call and replaced the receiver in the cradle. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you sitting on the edge of that chair looking like you’re chewing nails?”
Jillian faced a decision—to ’fess up or not to ’fess up. Charlotte had become a confidant over the years, a friend whose opinion was valued. Charlotte’s husband had died only a year after Michael had opened his practice, and since her kids lived on opposite coasts with their families, she’d been accepting invitations to spend holidays with Jillian and Michael’s families whenever she remained in town. Nieces and nephews on both sides called her Auntie Charlotte.
But she also worked with Michael, and Jillian didn’t want to share anything that might affect their working relationship, especially worries based on weak evidence.
Then again, it wasn’t as if Charlotte would back off until Jillian came clean. She’d picked up the scent—not so hard to do since worry had admittedly been occupying a top slot in Jillian’s thoughts the past few days. Charlotte would ask politely, maybe even ask a second time. Then, if she didn’t get the answers she was looking for, she’d simply move on to interrogate Michael.
Jillian had no real choice, after all.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said in a whisper, not wanting any patients in the reception area to overhear the conversation. “But I’m listening to our newest addition to the staff giggle an awful lot whenever my husband goes inside her exam room. He’s been in there almost ten minutes now. Can you think of anything that interesting inside their patient’s mouth?”
Charlotte narrowed her gaze and stepped inside, wedging herself strategically in the doorway so no one could approach without fair warning. “Surely you’re not worried? Our newest addition is a kid.”
“A very beautiful kid. And men usually go for younger women when they’re having a midlife meltdown.”
“I see a couple of problems with that. The first is that your husband is in his early thirties, not quite midlife.”
Jillian waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe not, but turning thirty is a miles
tone—”
“That he reached two years ago.”
“And,” Jillian continued, not willing to be so easily deterred from her reasoning when her concerns had merit, “we just celebrated our seventh anniversary. Have you ever heard of the seven-year itch?”
“I have. But I’ve also been around longer than you, my friend. A lot longer. I’ve heard even more couples say that if they survive the first seven years of marriage, they learn how to be together. Most couples I know who’ve been married a long time swear they wouldn’t do the first seven years again if you paid them. So where does that leave your theory?”
Jillian shrugged. “I don’t know. But something’s up, and Michael’s not sharing it with me.”
“You’ve talked with him?”
“Yes and no. I haven’t come right out and confronted him, but I dropped hints and made myself accessible. He has had ample opportunity to discuss whatever’s on his mind.”
“I thought you two worked out your latest tiff.”
“Tiff, right.” She gave a snort of disgust. “More like Michael paid me lip service, and I bought it. Now we’re supposed to go on acting as if everything is perfectly normal.”
“You don’t think it is.” Not a question.
“We still haven’t dealt with the problem, and now every flag I have is flying.”
Charlotte inclined her head, willing to accept instinct even if she wasn’t buying into Jillian’s reasoning yet. “What’s bugging you?”
“His diet, for starters. What man starts making big-time changes in his life without a reason?”
“And…”
Jillian took a deep breath, debating how forthright she wanted to be, but before she got a chance to decide, Charlotte said, “If you’re worrying about putting me in an awkward position here at work, then I appreciate the concern. I also think you know better.”
A laugh slipped out unbidden, and Jillian smiled, already feeling better. “I do know. You’re such a good friend. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”
“I do. Now spill. I want to know what’s going on between you two. You’re really starting to worry me.”
If You Could Read My Mind Page 10