Just one moment

by Poppy J. Anderson

  “Why?” her mother asked, clueless, as usual. “Didn’t you have a nice time?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I did,” Barbara replied dryly. With that, she decided her only remaining option was to throw the failed dough in the trash, complete with its bowl. She ripped her hands from the sticky mess and stared at the globs of dough on her fingers.

  In addition to fearing she would never get the crud off her fingers, she was also afraid she’d need to pay her chiropractor a visit, for her neck was getting stiffer by the minute.

  “I can’t imagine that Marcus Lindsay wasn’t nice to you,” her mother said.

  “He was very nice, Mom. I think he can’t help being nice.” She debated a moment before admitting, “He tried to ask me out.”

  “Oh.”

  Barbara narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “What is it, Mom?”

  “Nothing … I just thought … It’s nothing.”

  Barbara knew her mother’s It’s nothing all too well. Even two years after their divorce, her mother was still extremely fond of James and always reacted with dismay when Barbara told her a man had asked her out. Over the last two years, that had happened quite a few times, but so far Barbara had never accepted any of those invitations. However, ever since Marcus Lindsay had showed interest in her, she’d kept thinking that maybe she should jump into the dating scene again.

  Still, somehow, it didn’t feel right. The mere thought of kissing a man who was not James—or worse, to undress in front of a man who wasn’t James—frightened her immensely.

  “So do you want to go out with him?” her mother asked.

  “I don’t know,” Barbara replied truthfully. “He’s very nice indeed, but …”

  “But what?”

  Although her mother couldn’t see it, Barbara shrugged a shoulder. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Alright.” Naturally, her mother did not change the subject. “Well, to me, it sounds as if the evening was actually very nice, if Marcus Lindsay wanted to go out with you.”

  “Mom, change of subject, please. The evening was … It was certainly not nice.”

  “But I don’t see why,” her mother grumbled, not ready to let it go.

  Barbara grabbed a dish towel and started vigorously scrubbing her hands, which resulted in a sprinkle of dough crumbs all over the counter and the kitchen floor. Forget the darned cake! She would buy a cake from the store, and the first mom who dared comment on that would get said store-bought cake in her face. Barbara clutched the receiver tightly and glanced around the empty hallway of her house to verify it was, indeed, empty. “Isn’t it enough for me to tell you the evening was a disaster?” she demanded. “If Patrick tries to send me to an event in his stead again, he’ll be signing his own death sentence!”

  There was a shocked silence on the other end.

  Finally, in a sympathetic voice, her mom asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Barbara felt a strangled sensation in her throat. “I am livid!” she hissed.

  “No, you’re not,” Eleanore Ashcroft disagreed gently. “You sound ready to burst into tears. What happened?”

  Barbara balled her right hand into a fist and pressed her lips together so tightly it hurt.

  “Barbara …”

  “You’d take his side again anyway,” she blurted out. Her eyes stung. “You’re always on his side!”

  “Whose side would that be?”

  “Mom!” she choked out a wail. “I don’t want to talk about it! Scott … Scott needs a new pair of soccer cleats, and I … I need to bake a cake for Hamilton’s swim team party. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  Unfortunately, her mother was as stubborn as a donkey. “If you don’t tell me what happened last night, Barbara Gabriella, I’ll come around to your house and spank you. Whose side do you think I am on? You know full well that I’m always on your side!”

  Barbara sniffled and stared out of her kitchen window and into the garden, where children’s toys were scattered all over the lawn. She leaned against the sink and wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand.

  “You’re always taking James’s side,” she nearly whispered. “You keep looking for excuses for his behavior, Mom. You have no idea how much it hurts me.”

  “Oh, honey.” Her mother’s voice came soft and gentle. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

  “But it is!” Barbara swallowed hard. “We’re divorced, yet you talk to him on the phone all the time and act as if nothing happened.”

  “Honey, why are we suddenly talking about James?”

  “He was there last night,” she explained in a shaky voice. But she neglected to mention who was with him.

  Eleanore Ashcroft sighed heavily into the receiver. “Barbara, I am on your side,” she said calmly, “and it breaks my heart to see you hurt so much.”

  “But?”

  “But that doesn’t change the fact that I like James. I’ve always liked him.”

  Barbara ground her teeth. “You do the same thing with Amy!” she snapped. “I don’t understand why you’re so damned indulgent when it comes to your daughter-in-law and your son-in-law! Amy hurt Patrick so badly—and James broke my heart! But you act like everything is totally fine!”

  “Even if you’re filled with righteous anger, there’s no need to take it out on me,” her mother said patiently. “I’m on your side, but I also feel sorry for James.”

  For a moment, Barbara thought she hadn’t heard correctly. “What? You feel what?”

  “I feel sorry for him, Barbara. Your ex-husband has my compassion, too.”

  “Mom!” Her jaw dropped, and she felt the outrage mounting within her. “Are you kidding me? Why would you feel compassion for him? He’s the one who caused all this misery! It’s his fault alone!”

  “People make mistakes, Barbara, but what matters is how they handle those mistakes. And I’m of the opinion that James couldn’t have handled his mistake in a more decent way than he did.”

  The feeling that her skull might explode any moment grew worse with every passing second.

  But her mother wasn’t done. “Of course, James did make a mistake, but if you take into account—”

  “Don’t say it, Mom! Don’t you dare find some sort of excuse for the fact that he had an affair!” She could feel her fuse blowing. “You’re on his side! I knew it!”

  “I’m on your side—I always will be, my darling.”

  “Do you have any idea how I feel?”

  “Of course, I know that—”

  “No, you don’t!” Barbara began sobbing uncontrollably, somehow managing to close the kitchen door so neither Hamilton nor Scott would hear from upstairs that their mother was crying into the phone like a child. “Do you know how deeply he hurt me, and how unhappy I still am today? Do you have even the slightest idea what it feels like when you go to a stupid gala and find your ex-husband sitting beside the woman he cheated on you with while you were sitting at home with two small children and full-blown depression? And do you know what it feels like when your own mother has more sympathy for her son-in-law than her own daughter?” Barbara sank onto a stool next to the counter, sobbing, and wrapped an arm around her waist, bending over it in an attempt to stop the ache in her chest.

  She barely understood the soothing murmurs her mother had to offer.

  Finally, after many minutes of struggling to calm down, she managed to end her sobbing with a series of hiccups. Her nose was running steadily, and her eyes felt swollen, but the tears appeared to be running out.

  “Barbara,” her mother said in a voice filled with sympathy. “Darling, please … You just told me how strongly the whole thing is still weighing upon you. Can’t you talk to someone?”

  “No.” She shook her head and took a deep breath, wiping her tear-stained face with a trembling hand. “I … I’m okay.”

  “That’s not true,” her mother disagreed gently. “Do me a favor and find someone who can help you work through this.”

  Bar
bara sniffled, a sound that wasn’t very ladylike. “I don’t want to work through it, Mom. All I want is to forget about it. Oh, I wish …”

  “What, my darling?” Eleanore probed after a few seconds of silence.

  “Nothing. Forget it.” Barbara swallowed the rest of her tears, straightened her shoulders, and took another deep breath. “Listen, Mom, I really have a lot to take care of today. Can we talk another time?”

  “Of course,” her mother replied softly. “But don’t forget that I love you more than anything in the world.”

  “Love you, too,” Barbara said flatly, and hung up.

  Refusing to wallow in self-pity, she pulled herself together and rose from the stool to start a second attempt at baking a cake.

  While she mixed the new dough, she told herself that she couldn’t go on the way she was. Two years had passed since her divorce, but she still felt like she was running in place, not going anywhere. Her marriage was a thing of the past, so she needed to begin opening up to something new. Maybe she would only be able to find closure if a new man entered her life. She felt indecisive, but Marcus Lindsay immediately came to mind. There would be no harm in accepting his invitation, right? She had to take a first step out of this slump—so why not do it with a nice man like him?

  “Mom?”

  Barbara snapped out of her reverie. On her right, she found her youngest studying her with a thoughtful, concerned expression and a pout. Scott must have come in silently, or maybe Barbara had been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him.

  She hoped Scott didn’t notice her swollen eyelids. In vain. The little boy wrapped his arms around her hips and hugged her tight. “Can I help you with the cake, Mom?”

  “Yes, of course, honey,” she said tenderly, resting a hand on his slim neck.

  ***

  The first person Barbara saw when she and the boys arrived at the swim team’s summer party was, of course, James.

  Two days after the gala, she still didn’t think she was ready to face him, but she didn’t want to make a scene either. There were too many overeager swim team moms around, just waiting to witness a scandal.

  That was the only reason Barbara forced herself to fake a cheerful smile, greet the other guests, and carry the chocolate cake she’d baked with Scott’s help to the large table holding the buffet. She kept her back to her ex-husband as he hugged his sons.

  She was cutting the cake into neat slices when she sensed James step up behind her. She didn’t even have to smell his familiar aftershave to know it was him.

  “Barbara?”

  She feigned indifference and glanced back over her shoulder. “Mm-hm?”

  “Could we talk for a minute?”

  His face showed worry and contrition, but she reacted with a nod that was demonstratively cordial. She vowed that she wouldn’t let him see how shaken she still was by the sight of him with Anna Whitmore. Instead, she continued to cut the cake into uniform slices, replying calmly. “Yes, of course. I wanted to talk to you as well.”

  “Listen … I wanted to call you yesterday,” he murmured, wringing his hands, as she could see when she turned to face him—only after she’d cut the cake to her satisfaction. “I’m so sorry, Barbara. I’m serious. I had no idea—”

  Before he could say the name of the woman he’d cheated on her with, she interrupted him briskly. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” His blue eyes looked miserable. “I’d have gladly spared you that experience. Really, I—”

  “Could you take the boys this weekend?” she cut him off. “I know it’s my turn, but maybe we can switch? Do you have time for them?”

  Barbara registered his confusion, before he nodded with an expression of profound relief. “Sure … Of course I can take the boys.”

  “Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt and explained with a perverse satisfaction, “I’m going on a date Saturday evening, and I can’t find a sitter, but I’m sure Hamilton and Scott will be overjoyed to spend the weekend with you.”

  When she saw the consternation in his face, she felt a stab in her chest, and for a moment, she detested herself for hurting him on purpose. But she immediately suppressed that feeling.

  As far as she knew, James hadn’t dated anyone in the past two years either, but Barbara didn’t plan on spending the rest of her life in this situation. They were divorced and had no obligation to be considerate of each other’s feelings.

  “You’re going on a date?” he asked, incredulous.

  Without acknowledging his distress, she nodded curtly and picked a muffin and a napkin from the table. “Yes, I am,” she said, her tone businesslike. “I’m grateful you can take the boys. I would’ve hated to decline. Do you want me to bring them over on Friday? Scott’s going on a field trip with the Boy Scouts. He should be back by five. I could bring them over after that.”

  When James continued to look at her with disbelief, not even blinking, Barbara cleared her throat.

  “James?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want me to bring them over on Friday?” consternation

  “Uh …” He shook himself. “Yes … Yes, that’s be fine. Listen …”

  Again, she didn’t let him finish whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, she took a bite from her muffin and pointed behind her. “Would you excuse me? I need to say hi to Hamilton’s swim coach.”

  And with that, she abandoned him, heading straight for the coach and exhaling deeply. She’d been holding her breath for a long time.

  Chapter 5

  It was past midnight, but James lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

  He was thirty-four years old, and he was tossing and turning, unable to sleep because his ex-wife was on a date. He was so tense his shoulders were aching. The thought of Barbara going out with another man, drinking wine with another man—right this moment—laughing with another man, maybe even being kissed by that other man … It drove him to distraction.

  And the idea that another man might end up sleeping with her was killing him.

  Ever since she’d asked him to take the boys that weekend so she could go on a date, he hadn’t been himself.

  He wanted to crash her date, burst in and beat up the jerk she was out with, just to show him that Barbara was his wife, that he would kill any man before they could get close to her.

  But, unfortunately, James had no right to do any of that, no right to go all caveman on anyone, because Barbara was not, in fact, his wife anymore.

  She was his ex-wife, and she had been thoroughly humiliated only a week ago, when she’d discovered him sitting next to Anna.

  James tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a moment.

  He had always liked Anna—as a colleague and a friend, but he’d never entertained the idea that she might become anything more to him. Despite all the times they’d worked late into the night at the office, nothing had ever happened between them. He’d never actually looked at another woman after he’d met Barbara. Not like that. But then there’d been a business meeting in Toronto, which he had almost messed up because his thoughts were a thousand miles away, with Barbara. He’d been desperate at the time and unburdened himself to Anna in the hotel bar late that night, only to wake up shocked to find himself in bed with her.

  Of course, he’d known what he’d done, and he wasn’t so cowardly as to blame the alcohol for the fact that he’d slept with another woman. No, this dilemma was his fault alone.

  However—and this however had been haunting him for two years now—maybe he had been at the end of his rope at the time. Maybe he hadn’t known how else to win back Barbara’s attention after she’d ignored him for months prior to the Toronto trip. James had been desperate because he’d had no idea how to get his wife back.

  Of course, when he’d returned from Canada, he’d immediately confessed. If he’d hoped that that would be Barbara’s cue to finally open up to him, he’d been sadly and grossly mistaken. Even after he changed jobs so h
e wouldn’t see Anna anymore, and even after he suggested they go to couples’ therapy, Barbara had filed for divorce and barely spoken to him ever since.

  And now she seemed ready to kick him out of her life for good. She had started to go out with other men.

  James didn’t know how he would react if she built a real relationship with another man. The sheer idea hurt him so deeply that he wanted to do something drastic.

  The soft creak of wood made him lift his head and blink into the dark, his eyelids heavy. He spied Hamilton standing in the doorway to James’s bedroom, looking indecisive.

  “Hey, pal,” James whispered, sitting up slowly. “You can’t sleep either?”

  Hamilton shook his head. “No.”

  James smiled and scooted to one side. “Do you want to sleep here?”

  His son didn’t need another invitation. He quickly crawled under the duvet as James generously surrendered his favorite pillow and laid back down.

  “That better?” James asked, listening to his son sigh.

  “Mm-hm,” the nine-year-old mumbled.

  James reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “Is everything okay, big guy?”

  Hamilton didn’t answer right away but wiggled and tossed until he’d found a comfortable position. Only then did he look up at his dad.

  James stroked his son’s tender neck soothingly, remembering with dismay how deeply Hamilton had suffered during their separation. He still berated himself to this day for not only hurting Barbara with his mistake, but also throwing this amazing child for a loop. For months afterward, his oldest son hadn’t been able to sleep alone. He’d crawled into his dad’s bed every time he spent the weekend here.

  Hamilton was quick for a nine-year-old, a fact he proved yet again when he stated thoughtfully, “We were supposed to be at Mom’s this weekend, weren’t we?”