by Candy Caine
“What’s with you and Richard?”
“Huh?” Carla replied, caught off guard.
“It’s not a trick question,” Lynne responded looking directly into Carla’s eyes.
“Then what…nothing. We’re friends. What else is there?”
“I don’t know. When I’m with the two of you I feel something like static electricity in the air.”
“Well then I’m glad your clothes are clinging to you and mine aren’t. Just don’t electrocute yourself.”
“Carla, must you make a joke out of everything?” Lynne seemed annoyed as her pouty, crimson-coated lips turned down at the corners.
Carla dropped her fork into her plate. “For God’s sake, what did you expect me to say? I’m married to someone else.”
“It was just an observation. I meant nothing by it,” Lynne replied.
However looking back, Carla knew Lynne had touched a nerve. Carla understood now why. She hadn’t then and had become defensive. She remembered her assertion to Lynne:
“I guess you forgot that I’ve been killing myself in order to win back my husband from the clutches of some home-breaker.”
“No. Not really. Only, goals sometimes change,” Lynne had responded quietly. “Life isn’t a flat line.”
As the memory faded, Carla now understood what Lynne had meant about goals changing. Should she be trying to win Martin back? The feelings she’d once had for him weren’t as strong as they once were. Yet, despite all that, she didn’t want to just throw away their marriage. Like her ideas for her books, she’d worked with them until she exhausted all attempts to make the stories work. She was all for saving, not destroying.
However, this wasn’t fiction; this was her life. She couldn’t keep trying to make it work forever. Then, what do I want? She asked the image in the mirror. The person that looked back at her remained silent. She sighed. All the preparations had been completed. She’d go through with what she’d planned. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be, she thought as she drained the glass.
* * *
Blondie alerted Carla to Martin’s arrival. She lit the candles and looked at the dining table one last time. Everything was set and ready. The wine had quieted her jitters. She met Martin at the front door dressed in a black silk peignoir, which had been Lynne’s suggestion.
Martin’s jaw dropped nearly to his knees. His eyes bounced from her face to her body and back again.
“Are you going to remain there all night while dinner gets cold?”
Eyes now riveted to her face, he asked, “What did you do to your hair?”
“You don’t like—”
“No-no-no! I love it!”
“I was afraid it might have been too—”
Her words were drowned out as Martin’s lips crushed hers. He hadn’t kissed her like that for ages. She guessed they were off to a good start.
Regaining his composure, Martin asked, “What’s the occasion? I didn’t miss our anniversary, did I?”
Carla shook her head. “We’re celebrating us.”
He began to take off his coat. She grabbed a sleeve and said, “Here, let me help you.”
As she drew closer, he kissed the side of her neck. Together, with his arm around her, they walked toward the dining room table. The glow of the candles reflected in his eyes and she saw the happier times they’d once shared. Whatever doubts she’d had about the advisability of bringing back the past were gone. She had done the impossible. She could turn back time.
Martin reached for the chilling bottle of French champagne and popped the cork. “Let’s make a toast to us,” as he poured the bubbly, liquid gold into two fluted glasses.
He lifted his glass high and declared, “To the most beautiful woman in the world, my loving wife, I pledge all my love eternally.”
Carla tried her best to be light hearted. She found herself gulping down three glasses of champagne. She knew his declaration of love was a little too late, but he did look like he meant it.
“What’s for dessert?” Martin asked, patting his middle.
“Is there anything special you’d like?”
An impish smile appeared instantly on his handsome face. “You,” he said and kissed her. As his tongue tangled with hers, his fingers tugged at her nipples. His erection pressed against her mound. Despite her turbulent thoughts, Carla found herself responding. The champagne also helped to loosen her inhibitions.
They kissed their way into the bedroom. Martin slowly began to undress her, paying homage to each area of her body he unclothed. Things were progressing perfectly as if they were following a script of some romantic play. They made slow love and Carla experienced some of the old excitement they once shared. But after the euphoria subsided, she felt curiously empty. And she was disturbed by her thoughts of Richard as she climaxed.
Lying in the web of Martin’s arms as their heart rates slowly returned to normal, she knew it was time to bring up the subject of his infidelity. Only, her best laid plans veered totally off-track.
“Carla?”
“Hmm?”
“I have a confession to make.”
She was still mellow at this point—which was a very good thing.
“I’ve been having an affair.” Martin stated this as if it were merely a matter of fact.
“I know.”
“You do?” he lifted himself up onto one arm and looked down at her, his face contorted with shock.
“I’ve known all along.” Carla was astounded by her own composure.
“And yet, you didn’t raise hell or try to punish me.” His look of surprise had transformed into one of astonishment.
Carla duly noticed that he hadn’t mentioned castration.
Martin wasn’t finished glorifying her beneficence. “Instead you were the super woman you are and figured I’d eventually come to my senses.”
“And, have you?” she asked, trying to stifle a budding yawn at the same time.
“Yes. I can’t imagine what I was thinking. How could I risk our marriage?”
She felt another yawn coming on, but Martin wasn’t quite finished with his soul searching moment yet. God, she was tired and wanted to close her eyes.
“I must have been crazy. I have this gorgeous woman at home who loves me and what do I do? I go out and cheat on her.” He shook his head. “I’m lucky you didn’t send me packing all those times.”
Had she heard him correctly? Was he referring to more than one woman? Suddenly, she didn’t give a damn if it had been one woman or twenty. Maybe it was because she was tired and longed for sleep, but as Martin rambled on, she found herself no longer listening. She didn’t care enough to listen.
How ironic. She had put herself through a grueling regimen of exercise and diet to transform herself into a desirable woman in order to win back Martin’s love. It worked like a charm—only it no longer mattered.
Then the reason why hit her with such force her eyes flew open. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with Martin. Sure the sex was okay, but hell, that’s all it was. When had she stopped loving him and neglected to tell herself?
As tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. After Martin had talked himself out and fell asleep, the tears welling in her eyes slipped silently down her cheeks. How had she come to this point? And what would she do next? She knew the answer. It had always been there.
It was all about Richard. When had he become a part of her every thought? It had always been so obvious to Lynne. She had tried to tell me. Boy, talk about being dense. How had she ever allowed things to get so messed up? And despite the trial, why hadn’t Richard taken five minutes out to call her? That thought alone twisted her stomach into a tight knot as her heart began to ache.
* * *
Richard tossed and turned. Interviewing safety experts for the trial wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped and was dragging on. However, that wasn’t the only thing keeping his mind from shutting down and allowing him to sleep.
He missed
Carla. He’d heard her voice messages and steeled himself not to return her calls.
During his waking hours, he found his mind drifting back to happier times spent with her. He could hear her laughter ringing in his ears and wanted to reach out to touch her—something that gold ring around her finger prevented him from doing. Her marriage to that philandering excuse for a man infuriated him. The man had a treasure in his grasp and abused it. If he ever gets the chance—stop! That will never happen in your lifetime, buddy.
He knew Carla would be ready soon to give Martin her ultimatum to drop his bimbo as part of her plan to save her marriage. The last time he’d seen her, she looked good—damned good. But, to be honest, he’d probably loved her from day one even before the weight loss. She radiated love and beauty from the inside out. He wanted to break his self-imposed exile, but knew it was best not to. The last thought Richard had before falling into a fitful sleep was that if Martin kept breaking Carla’s heart …he’d kill him.
* * *
When Carla opened her eyes it was morning. Martin was gone and a note telling her how much he loved her was left on his pillow. She groaned when she read it. It felt as if a ping-pong game was taking place in her head from all the champagne the night before. She forced herself out of bed and into the shower.
Feeling a little better, she emerged from the bathroom as the phone began to ring. It was Lynne checking up on her.
“Hello,” was all she managed to say without having any coffee in her system.
“You sound exhausted. Must have been some night,” Lynne said cheerfully.
“About last night…”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound so good.”
Carla related what had happened.
“That’s great! Er…isn’t it?” Lynne said uncertainly, hearing Carla’s strange tone.
“Do you remember the day you told me that goals change?”
“Uh-huh. Oh, no.” Lynne sat up perfectly straight in her chair as if it would help her hear better.
“Oh, yes. I want to divorce Martin.”
“You’re joking, right? Or did you have too much champagne and are still hung over?”
“I’m sober and dead serious,” Carla replied. “Months ago, when you gave me your advice I wasn’t listening carefully and now I’m sorry for it.”
“Could your feelings for a certain other person have anything to do this with surprise decision?” Lynne finally asked, a huge smile appearing on her face.
“You were right. I’m in love with Richard.”
“Does he know?”
“You’re the only person I’ve told.”
“So you haven’t told Martin yet?”
“No,” Carla said quietly.
“He’s going to freak.”
“Especially after he confessed his skirt chasing to me last night and promised I’d get all his future business.”
“His ego won’t allow him to take this lightly, you know,” Lynne cautioned Carla.
“Don’t I know.”
“He won’t hurt you, will he?”
“I don’t think so.”
There was a pause, then Lynne said slowly, “You can always stay with us.”
“Us?”
“Haywood and me. Don’t you remember, we’re living together.”
“Yeah, right. That’s great.”
“Yeah, it is. But, right now it’s you I’m concerned about.”
“Don’t be. No matter what, I’ll land on my feet. I promise,” Carla replied with false bravado.
“What’s your next move?”
“Well, since I’ve got the crying part done, I can skip to the next step.”
“Which is?”
“Tell the guys,” Carla muttered.
“Good, luck, babe.”
“Yeah, that will certainly come in handy, though a small miracle might work a lot better.”
* * *
Martin had driven to work smiling. The distance that had existed between Carla and him had been spanned and he felt once more like a newlywed. He’d come clean and she accepted it. What a wonderful woman she really was and he was a very lucky man to have married her.
His smile widened and then faded, as a vision of Heather popped into his head and rained on his parade of happiness. He’d given a great deal of thought to why she’d thought Orson knew about them. Apprehension reared its ugly head as he wondered if she’d made it all up. Had she decided to get rid of Orson for his money? And was he included in her plans?
Until Martin discovered what was going on with Heather, he had to act as if nothing had changed—except his running the old showroom, of course. He definitely didn’t want to make her angry knowing she was capable of telling Orson that he was making advances to her. He’d get the boot in the blink of an eye. And that was the thing that scared him the most.
Keeping Heather happy wasn’t the worse thing he’d have to do. She was the best lover he’d ever had. Sex with her was always exciting. She was the one woman who knew how to blow his mind with her unpredictable moves. Funny though, he should have heard from her by now.
He entered the showroom and greeted the other salesmen as he passed their desks. The sight of all those shiny new Mercedes usually made him smile as he passed them, but not today. Heather was on his mind and he wondered why he hadn’t heard from her. Dropping into his leather chair, he reached for the phone. Her voice mail came on and he disconnected.
Chapter Thirty-One
Carla called Richard’s cell hoping she might catch him. A recorded message came on informing her that the number she was calling was not in working order. She didn’t dwell on the reason. Richard could have lost his phone or switched companies. Instead, she called his apartment.
The answering machine picked up again. She wondered where he might be since it was Saturday. Hey, he did have a life she reminded herself and left a message asking him to call her. She’d tell him of her impending divorce and her feelings for him when she saw him in person. Though she couldn’t wait to let him know all this earth-shattering news, it wasn’t something that should be left on an answering machine.
As for Martin, she’d tell him when he came home that evening. The sooner the better. She did not look forward to it.
* * *
Jessie made an appointment with Heather and then called Jake Saturday afternoon, at the no-tell motel he’d been hiding out at, to tell him she was heading over to Heather’s. Hemmings had made things easier for her by being away for the weekend. She hadn’t wanted him to know her business.
Just as Jessie was walking out the door, the phone rang. It was her aunt. Was she calling to tell Jessie she would give her the money?
“Hello, Aunt Louise.”
“I’m just calling to thank you again for helping Haywood. He’s seemed to have found himself a girlfriend because of it. He’s very happy.”
I’m glad,” she said. So are you going to lend me the money?
“Were you able to straighten out your financial crisis?”
No thanks to you, Jessie thought, so she stretched the truth. “Heather Hemmings, my boss’s wife, has graciously offered to lend the money to me. In fact, I’m on my way there now.”
“Good. Hopefully that husband of yours has learned his lesson and repaired his ways. Take care, Jessie.”
It took Jessie a moment to realize her aunt had hung up.
As she drove Jake’s pickup truck to Heather’s, Jessie thought of several ways to ask for the money. Too desperate, she hadn’t wanted to consider what she would do if Heather turned her down. She had to get the money from her. There was absolutely no other person she could go to for help.
This was it.
There were no other options.
* * *
Heather opened the door to find Jessie Thompson standing there thin as a rail, looking like a former inmate in a concentration camp. Her face, drawn and sallow, held sad, lusterless eyes. A slight tic by her right eye and a trembling lower lip finished the pictu
re. Heather had never seen her high school friend looking so awful. She put Lovey down and the dog sniffed at Jessie’s feet before going back to her master.
“Jessie! What’s wrong?”
“I need your help.” Jessie sounded as if she’d break out in tears at any given moment.
“Come inside. We can talk. Orson’s away.” Heather closed the door and followed Jessie inside. She took Jessie into the den. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Jessie shook her head no, but Heather walked over to the wet bar and poured two glasses of wine, anyway. Her friend looked like she needed something to help settle her nerves. She handed a glass to Jessie who clasped it between both her trembling hands before setting it down on the cocktail table.
“I really didn’t want to come to you—but I’m desperate and have nowhere else to turn. You’ve to help me!” Jessie grabbed at Heather’s arm before she sat down with such urgency she nearly knocked the wine off the table.
Heather knew she owed Jessie. If it wasn’t for her, she would have been snagged by that PI her husband had hired. “What’s wrong, Jessie?”
“Jake’s in serious trouble. He’s gotten in over his head with some bookie.”
“How much does he owe?”
Jessie gulped down some of the wine. “Fif…fifteen-thousand dollars.”
“Christ! I dunno…Hmm…maybe ten—”
“They’re gonna kill him if he doesn’t come up with all the money!”
Heather saw the naked desperation in Jessie’s eyes. She needed all of her money for her new life away from Orson, however, she couldn’t let Jessie down. An idea came to her. She unclasped her new diamond necklace and slipped it around Jessie’s neck. “Here, take this. It’s got to be worth at least five grand. I’ll go get my checkbook for the rest. It’s upstairs in my purse.”
Jessie grabbed Heather’s hands in hers. Breathing hard she cried, “I’ll pay you back every cent. Thank you!”
The doorbell rang as Heather climbed the stairs with Lovey in her wake. Thinking it was the delivery Orson had mentioned, she called, “Get that for me, Jessie, I’m expecting a delivery.”
“Sure.”
Jessie went to the front door and opened it. Her eyes widened as she stared into the business end of a sawed-off shotgun.