A Stranger on the Beach

by Michele Campbell

  Caroline parked, then walked to the spot under the awning where her husband stood. Aidan expected to see a cold welcome, possibly even a confrontation. He was ready to spring into action if the need arose. Instead they embraced. As he watched, that dickwad took the woman Aidan loved into his arms and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Still. The guy’s hand was on the small of her back, her head tilting up toward him. A jealous fury bubbled in his blood. He opened the door of the truck and got out. His hands instinctively balled into fists, he was itching so bad to break them up. But uncertainty kept him from going in closer. This could be a ploy on Caroline’s part to lure the husband into letting down his guard and revealing where he’d stashed the money. If so, Aidan shouldn’t screw it up. But what if what he was seeing between them was real? What if she’d lied to him for some reason, and she was still in love with the guy? But no. That wasn’t possible. He was doubting, because this thing with Caroline seemed too good to be true. Because he didn’t believe in himself enough to buy that she really cared for him. He needed to have more faith.

  The rain had finally stopped, but the blacktop was shiny and slick. The air smelled of fall. Wet leaves, a tang of woodsmoke. Water dripped from the tree beside him onto the shoulders of his leather jacket as Aidan watched the husband open the restaurant door for Caroline. She went inside. But the husband stayed behind under the awning, on his phone again. He was pacing, waving his arms, looking increasingly agitated. Must be an interesting call. Aidan was too far away to hear. He crept closer, maneuvering between the cars, wishing he had a smoke in his hand. Dirty habit, but it made for a good cover. A man lurking in a parking lot could seem like a threat; a man smoking a cigarette was taking an innocent break.

  As Aidan drew within earshot, Stark glanced in his direction and hunched over, shielding his phone, his expression wary.

  “Hold on a second,” he said, and stepped out from under the cover of the awning.

  Stark slunk around the side of the building until he was out of Aidan’s line of sight and earshot. If the dude was willing to stand in the rain to avoid being overheard by a complete stranger, this call must be something sketchy. Was he talking to the mistress? Were they scheming about the money? Or was it something even worse? Shady dealings that might affect Caroline? Aidan would love to be able to give her a detailed report.

  A row of tall bushes along the front of the building gave off a heady smell of wet mulch. Aidan glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, then ducked behind them. He brushed against the branches, darkening his clothes with the rain, as he made his way to the corner of the building. He could hear the conversation clearly now. Stark was talking about money, all right. He mentioned a number—half a million. That was a lot of cash, more than a guy would spend on a mistress. This had to be something else, something bigger than cheating. Maybe it was what Caroline had alluded to, that her husband was mixed up in criminal activity of some kind. Aidan moved closer, straining to hear more.

  “—at the warehouse?” Stark asked, then paused. “I’m not stupid, Galina.… I’m doing what I can, but I told you, she’s giving me a problem.… You have my word. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done.”

  Galina. That had to be the Russian woman. Stark said that someone—somebody female—was giving him a problem. Was it Caroline he referred to? The talking stopped abruptly. Had the asshole moved away again? Aidan couldn’t see. He took a step out from behind the bushes, around the side and—

  Pain exploded in the side of his head. He was lying on the wet pavement, on his back, seeing stars.

  “What the fuck?”

  The guy had sucker-punched him. Aidan touched his temple. His fingers came away bloody. Jason Stark stood over him.

  “I don’t know who you are or why you’re following me. But stay away from me, or I’ll kill you,” Stark said.

  Then he walked away nonchalantly, like nothing had happened.

  Fuck that.

  This ain’t over, pal. Not hardly.

  22

  As I walked into the restaurant, I spotted Jason and Hannah at the corner table, their dark heads together, deep in conversation. The sight of them made me stop and catch my breath. How many restaurant dinners had we shared, the three of us, since Hannah was a baby in her carrier? I could still picture her as a little girl, thin and pale, with big brown eyes. What a picky eater she’d been, and then later, what a junk-food junkie. As much of a struggle as it had been to raise her, with Jason gone so much and everything on me, I’d give my right arm to have those days back. I’d loved being a wife, and a mom. Now our little family was shattered.

  I had a piece of paper in my handbag that was sure to make everything worse. It would take what Jason had started and make it permanent. I didn’t want to use it, but he’d left me no choice. He’d cheated and lied. He’d drained the bank accounts and left me destitute. Now—if what Hannah told me was right—he was planning to skip town. As much as part of me still loved him, it was time to face facts.

  I sighed and started toward them. Jason and Hannah looked up simultaneously, with identical dismayed expressions, and I saw that my first impression of a cozy tête-à-tête had been mistaken. In her first weeks of college, Hannah should be glowing and full of adventure. Instead she looked pale and worried, her skin acting up, her hair stringy. And Jason, beside her, looked haggard, like he’d lost ten pounds in the few days since I’d seen him.

  “Caroline.”

  “Mom, I said this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to barge in like this, but your father left me no choice. He—”

  “Can we please leave Hannah out of this?” Jason said. “She doesn’t need to hear the ugly details.”

  “Don’t blame me. Hannah told me you’re planning to leave the country. And you won’t return my calls. Where’s the money, Jason?”

  In spite of my best intentions, my voice rose. People were turning to look. A waiter stepped up behind me with a chair. Jason waved him off.

  “She’s not staying.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Mom, Dad, please,” Hannah said, red-faced with embarrassment.

  She was looking around the restaurant, obviously worried that someone from her school might be in attendance to witness her family drama. I felt terrible that her parents’ problems were hurting her at this important moment in her life. But, come on. I was the victim here. If Jason didn’t put the money back immediately, I’d have to start pawning jewelry in order to eat. Hannah wouldn’t wish that for me.

  Jason stood up. “Caroline, come outside. Hannah, your mother and I need to talk.”

  Jason took my elbow and steered me toward the exit. My cheeks were burning. I hated scenes, and I never meant to shame my daughter. But I refused to let him mistreat me with impunity. I had my payback planned. Out in the parking lot, I reached into my handbag and pulled out a manila envelope.

  “You’ve been served,” I said, and thrust it at his chest.

  The lawyer Lynn recommended had done quick work, drafting a divorce complaint and a court order in the space of an hour to stop Jason from stealing any more of my—our—money. It might be too little, too late. What he’d taken, I might never see again. But the divorce papers at least made me feel that I was sticking up for myself. They included every salacious detail I could think of to make Jason look bad. The Russian woman. The lies about his business trips—let his partners suck on that. How he’d left his devoted wife destitute after twenty years of marriage. I’d humiliate him in front of the world, like he’d done to me. It didn’t feel good, but nothing felt good since I’d discovered his betrayal.

  “What is this?” he said.

  “Divorce papers. My lawyer’s filing the complaint in court tomorrow. It has all the dirt about you and that Russian woman, and your so-called business trips. I know you’re lying about where you go. Everybody will know that now. They’ll see what a rat you are, Jason.”


  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Maybe not for you.”

  My voice rang out in the silence of the dark, empty parking lot. A misty rain had been falling all evening. The chill got in my bones, making me shiver. I longed for an apology. I’d settle for shock, or even anger. Instead, Jason looked dejected, and his unhappiness gave me no satisfaction.

  “It’ll be hard on Hannah,” he said.

  “I don’t want to do this. But you told me you would take care of me, then you took all the money, and you’re planning to flee the country. How am I supposed to react?”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  In the light from the streetlamp, I gazed at his familiar face, and my heart flooded with regret. I didn’t want revenge. All I wanted was for the past week never to have happened, for our marriage to be warm and cozy, for Jason to be my rock, like he’d always been.

  “It kills me to put you through this,” he said.

  “Then don’t,” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. “It’s not too late.”

  To my intense relief, he opened his arms, and I walked right into them.

  * * *

  When Jason and I returned to the table fifteen minutes later, we were holding hands. He pulled up a chair for me, and I gazed at him over my shoulder as I took a seat. Hannah looked back and forth between us in wonder.

  “Looks like you guys had a good talk,” she said, and the hope in her face tugged at my heart. I had hope, too, even if it was last-ditch and desperate.

  “Your mother and I made up,” Jason said. “But let’s not talk about it too much, because I don’t want to jinx it. Hand me the menu. I hear they have great carbonara.”

  He signaled the waiter. I felt hungry suddenly and realized I hadn’t eaten since the scrambled eggs this morning. Scrambled eggs …

  Aidan.

  Was that really today? Was it even this lifetime? Thank God that ridiculous fling was over. What a crazy mistake. Now that I was back with my family, where I belonged, I could put it out of my mind and never think of it again.

  From behind me, a man’s hand, holding a pitcher, reached to fill my water glass. Something in the hand was so familiar that I held my breath, afraid of what I’d see if I turned around. Could it be? I stared straight ahead.

  I saw Jason look up, and his eyes widen.

  “You’re the guy from the parking lot,” he said. “You work here?”

  “Yes, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

  At the sound of Aidan’s voice, I froze. Had he followed me here? I could tell that he was standing right behind me. In a terrible moment of suspended animation, I waited for him to say something that acknowledged our connection. To call me by name. To spill the truth about our affair to my husband, with whom I’d now—I hoped and prayed—reconciled. Instead, he circled to the other side of the table, coming close enough to brush against the back of my chair. I saw that he was wearing a black apron embroidered with the name of the restaurant and carrying a pitcher of ice water. What the hell? Either this was the most bizarre coincidence of all time, or he was masquerading as a waiter. It was the latter; I knew it in my gut. He’d followed me to this restaurant, stolen the apron and the pitcher, and walked up to our table, in some deranged attempt to make contact, to barge into my dinner with my family. I had no idea why. But he could only mean harm.

  I watched in horror as Aidan filled first Hannah’s water glass, then Jason’s. He lifted a hand to push back his hair, and I saw that the left side of his forehead had turned a deep purple, marked by a dark red gash where he’d bashed it against the dashboard of my car. Aidan finally met my horror-stricken gaze. And smiled. What did he hope to gain by sneaking up on me like this? I wanted to ask him. I wanted to demand that he leave me and my family alone. But my voice died in my throat. The only thing that mattered right now was saving my marriage. If Jason knew I’d cheated, even though he’d done exactly the same, our fragile reconciliation would be at risk. So, I sat completely still, praying in silent horror that—whatever his intentions—Aidan would leave us without giving me away.

  The elderly, white-jacketed waiter returned to check on us. He looked Aidan up and down in confusion.

  “Who are you?” he said. “You don’t work here.”

  “I’m new,” Aidan said. But he set the water pitcher down on the table and hurried away.

  “Uh, folks, could you give me a minute,” the elderly waiter said, and rushed to follow Aidan.

  I watched as Aidan ran out the front door of the restaurant. The elderly waiter stopped at the maître d’s station. He and the maître d’ stepped outside, then came back in moments later and engaged in an animated conversation.

  “That’s odd, don’t you think?” Jason said, watching them, too.

  My voice was rusty with shock, to the point that I had to clear my throat before I could get out a reply.

  “What—what do you mean?”

  “That guy who brought the water. I don’t believe he works here.”

  “Who knows,” I said.

  The elderly waiter shrugged, then headed back in our direction.

  “Here comes the waiter,” I said. “Forget about that guy. I’m starving. Let’s order.”

  Aidan was gone, thank God. But for how long?

  23

  I opened my eyes to feel the delicate morning light kissing my face. The drapes were open, and the smell of fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen. I rolled over and sighed with happiness to be in my own bed in our New York apartment, with the pillow on Jason’s side dented from where his head had rested last night. Then I remembered—and sat up so fast I saw spots.

  Aidan.

  Aidan had followed me to the restaurant last night, and—bizarrely—pretended to be a waiter and approached our table. I didn’t understand why. He hadn’t acknowledged our relationship, or even said anything to indicate he knew me. Thank God for that, yet it made his behavior seem even more bizarre. Was he trying to get close to me, after I’d said goodbye? Or threaten me with the prospect of ratting me out to my family? I’d managed to escape without Jason or Hannah finding out about our fling—this time. But if Aidan followed me again, next time I might not be so lucky.

  My gaze traveled around the familiar bedroom. It felt suddenly precious to me, and precarious, like my home of over a decade might vanish in the blink of an eye. We’d lived in this apartment since Hannah started kindergarten. I vividly remembered the day we moved in, what a palace it’d felt like at the time. We’d scraped and saved to afford it. A two-bedroom prewar with high ceilings and good light, on a pretty block within walking distance of Hannah’s school. Over the years, as Jason became more successful, I tried to convince him to upgrade. We could use more space. The kitchen and bathrooms were dated. There were more exclusive buildings, with better-connected neighbors who could’ve opened social doors. But Jason refused, and now I was grateful we hadn’t. This was home. This was where we’d raised our daughter together. I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and kiss the faded carpet. But I couldn’t take for granted my return to paradise. Not with Aidan out there, plotting who knows what. He was the snake in the garden.

  Uneasily, I put my feet in my slippers. I pulled on my silk robe and made my way to the kitchen. Jason sat at the island, the newspaper open in front of him, dressed for the day in suit and tie. I’d forgotten how distinguished he could look, with his chiseled features, his dark hair graying at the temples. I remembered seeing Aidan on the beach that first day, looking like some goombah thug. Not just looking like one. He was a thug. He owned a gun and had a probation officer. I didn’t know what crime Aidan had committed, but now that he’d shown up to haunt me at the restaurant, I’d damn well better find out. Was I dealing with a petty thief or a killer?

  Jason saw me, glanced at his watch, and stood up.

  “Better get going. It’s later than I thought,” he said.

  “Oh. I wanted us to have breakfast together. You should’ve woken me.”

>   “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to bother you.”

  He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. The familiar scent of the shaving cream and hair pomade he’d been using for decades made me want to cry. I grabbed his arm and kissed him on the lips, but he didn’t respond.

  “Don’t go,” I said.

  “Have to. Important meeting today,” he said.

  But his eyes were shadowed, and his face looked strained. I felt like he was avoiding me. He was certainly keeping something from me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine, hon.”

  Jason’s words didn’t ring true. Was I imagining it? Could I trust him? Was this reconciliation for real? I was afraid to ask him whether he’d broken things off with the Russian woman. What if the answer was no?

  “You seem … distant,” I said.

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  I wanted to ask him about the bank accounts. He’d promised to put the money back in. There were bills to pay. But I didn’t want to seem like a nag or make him think that my only motivation for getting back together was cold, hard cash.

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice, and let go of his arm.

  If he left now, if we parted like this, I’d brood over it for the rest of the day. I had to ask.

  “Jason—”

  “What is it?” he said, sounding annoyed.

  “I have to ask. That woman who came to the party? Is she—are you still—?”

  “I told you, that wasn’t what you think. It was business. And the thing I’m working with her on is coming to an end. I promise. After that, believe me, I never want to see her again.”

  “It was only business? You swear?”

  “I’ve never cheated on you, Caroline,” he said, in a cold, angry tone. “I wonder if you can say the same. You might want to check your phone.”

  My hands felt icy cold as Jason trained his gaze on me.

  “Why?”

  “It was ringing like crazy before. I put it to silent, so I could read the paper in peace. Repeat phone calls from someone named Aidan.”