by Alexia Adams
“What I see is that your obsession with destroying this man here,” she gestured at Ian on the other side of the car, “has led you to put aside your future, the wonderful future you could spend with me, and marry the woman he wanted all those years ago. You’re so determined to destroy everything that he wanted or that he has, you’ve lost track of what you need. You need me, Erik. I’m the perfect wife for you. Instead, you married her, some little photographer who used to be the girl next door. Well, I’m here to tell you that without me, this,” she swept her arm around the small farmyard, “this is all you’ll ever have.”
“Maybe it’s all I actually need,” Erik said, hoping to diffuse her tirade.
“See, you’re still living in the past. When we first met, you said that ten years ago you couldn’t wait to leave Manitoba and you never wanted to come back. Even last month, you said you were going to come here for three weeks, see your grandparents, then we were going to the Seychelles. That was your reward for putting up with three weeks in, and I quote, ‘relative-filled Manitoba hell.’ Are you telling me that in the past three weeks you’ve changed your mind? That now you love it here and never want to leave? I don’t believe you, Erik.” She started to cry. The tears were silent at first but soon were accompanied by a high-pitched wailing. Erik didn’t know whether he should try to comfort her or let her cry it out.
“Is that true, Erik? Is what she said true?” Analise’s voice crackled with emotion.
He whirled to see her standing ten feet from him. She swayed once, twice, then fainted. Thankfully, his muscles reacted before his brain, and he caught her before she hit the ground.
Chapter 15
A babble of voices sounded like they were underwater. Had she gone swimming? Analise wiggled, but something was holding her tight. Her eyes flew open, and she saw Erik’s concerned face staring at her.
“Get a cool cloth,” he demanded of someone as he lay her down on her grandfather’s battered sofa.
A woman’s legs appeared at her side. She followed the legs up to a Chanel suit, past a Hermes scarf, to the face of Erik’s ex-girlfriend, Brenda. Brenda, Erik, Ian. Analise struggled to sit up, but Erik’s strong hand pushed against her shoulder, holding her down.
“Easy, love. You fainted.” He ran a wet towel over her brow, his hand shaking as he did so.
She pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. I just got too hot. I forgot my hat; that’s why I came back to the house.”
Ian MacEwan entered the room and put a glass of water on the coffee table, then stood back, looking as though he’d rather be anyplace else.
“Don’t you think you should leave now?” Erik glowered at Brenda.
“I’m not going until I have some answers.” Her tone was defiant with only a hint of defeat. The anger that had sustained her during her tirade against Erik seemed to have burnt itself out. Now, all that was left was pain and betrayal. Analise knew, because that’s exactly how she felt.
Erik opened his mouth to comment, but Analise cut him off. “Yes, Erik. I think you owe us all an explanation. Please move; I want to sit up.”
As Erik stood, she swung her legs down to the floor. The room spun for a moment, but by concentrating on the pinched face of the woman who sat opposite her, she managed to make it come back into focus.
Erik remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. Now it was his turn to look like he’d rather disappear.
Analise nodded at the other man in the room. “Hello, Ian,” she managed after a sip of water. “And you must be Brenda.”
Erik’s ex was immaculately dressed and coiffed. Self-consciously, Analise ran a hand over her short hair, aware that it had been six weeks since its last cut, and it was now style-less. Brenda returned her scrutiny, and Analise could almost read her mind: “What does Erik see in her?”
No one seemed ready to make the first move. Brenda, having already said her piece, appeared to have nothing left to add. Ian stared at the floor as though to burn a hole through which he could disappear. Erik still stood defiantly at the end of the sofa, sharing his glare between Brenda and Ian.
“Ian, why don’t you start? What’s your argument with Erik?” Analise ignored her husband’s huff and concentrated on the other man in the room.
“Got nothing to say, except, why me?”
Analise could feel Erik bristle from where she sat. His arms unfolded, and his hands clenched in fists at his side. If she didn’t want her grandfather’s sitting room busted up in a brawl, she’d have to diffuse the tension somehow.
“Why don’t you start with what has happened since … since school, and what you think Erik is responsible for,” Analise prompted.
“With all the gossip about Karen’s death, I couldn’t get a decent job after school finished. Everyone blamed me. So I decided to start my own business. But he,” Ian pointed at Erik, “made sure they all failed. I had to take a job as a garbage man in Gimli to support my family. Then, a couple years ago, things started to turn around. I noticed your grandfather was getting rid of his horses and cutting back. I’ve always been a good rider, so I thought I’d take over his business. Suddenly, the bank started lending me money, said a private investor was interested in promoting growth in the region. I bought land, built stables and a house for my family, got a load of horses, some from your granddad, others at auction. It was going good, when all of a sudden the investor pulled all his funds and demanded I pay back every penny within thirty days. It wasn’t until Brenda here came to see me yesterday that I realized it was Erik’s money. He ruined me on purpose. I have to declare bankruptcy. My wife is on the verge of leaving … ” Ian put his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs.
Analise turned to stare at Erik. Guilt was written all over his face, but still she asked the question. “Is this true?”
“Yes.”
“And is what Brenda said true as well? Up until three weeks ago, you never wanted to return to Manitoba? Now, suddenly, everything is roses and you want to live here forever with me?”
“Yes. Am I allowed to make a statement in my defense?”
Analise sat back and crossed her arms over her chest to protect her aching heart. She’d let herself believe in the dream. That she could actually go back in time ten years and make a better life for herself and her child. Now she’d been deceived and lied to by another man.
He didn’t wait for her answer. “Ian destroyed my sister. He selfishly took her innocence and threw it back in her face. He deserves everything he’s gotten over the years. As for Brenda, yeah, I thought I loved her. I thought I wanted the big-city life. That a top-flight career in law could make up for a humdrum marriage. Then I came back here and met you again. Suddenly, everything I wanted became clear. I want to be known as a good husband and father. Good lawyers are a dime a dozen, but I truly believe I am the only man who can make you happy, Analise. Because I love you more than anything else in the world.”
“How can I believe you, Erik? After all you’ve done the past few weeks is lie to everyone who loves you? Don’t you think I’ve had enough deception in my life? Did you think you could hide all this from me? You’ve sabotaged Ian’s life and made me a pawn in your game of revenge. What did you think—that you could seduce me for old time’s sake and rub his nose in it? Yee-haw, you got the girl he couldn’t, congratulations. And for what? To avenge Karen’s death? Let me save you three years and thousands of dollars. Here’s what I learned in counseling: Karen had a disease, an illness. That’s what killed her, mental illness. Not me. Not Ian. Yes, he did something stupid, but we were kids for God’s sake. You can’t hold us accountable. And anything you do now, or ever, isn’t going to bring her back. It won’t bring any of them back.” Her voice broke, and a wave of nausea struck with such violence, there was no hope of quelling it.
Analise jumped to her feet and rushed to the toilet. When she emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, the room was empty except for her grandfather standing in the middle of the
sitting room, looking like a Norse warrior. His cheeks were flushed, and fire shot out of his eyes. She hadn’t seen him look so formidable since she’d first arrived and detailed her mother’s treatment at the hands of her father.
“Where’d everyone go?”
“I kicked them out. This is my house. No one upsets my granddaughter in it.”
“And Erik?”
“He’s gone, too. If you want to see him that’s your choice.” He looked like he thought it would be a crazy choice, but he’d support her if that was what she wanted. Problem was, she didn’t know what she wanted.
“You heard everything?”
“Yes. I saw you pass out and ran back here to check on you. Heard it all from the porch. When you went to be sick, I got old Bessy from the barn and reasoned with them to leave. Don’t think your man would’ve gone if I hadn’t threatened to put a hole the size of Lake Winnipeg in his chest.”
Her eyes shot to the door where old Bessy, her grandfather’s shotgun, sat ready to defend the house, and her, should it be needed.
“Afi, I need to go away for a few weeks—someplace where I can think in peace, with no emotional hangovers to haunt me. I’ve put some money in your bank account. Don’t ask where it came from. I earned it. Trust me, I earned every penny. But I don’t want it. Call Ian MacEwan—I think he might be interested in a partnership.”
Her grandfather nodded, a hint of moisture in his blue eyes. “Will you be back?”
“Damn straight, I’ll be back. This is my home, my baby’s home. I’m not going to let some weasel lawyer and his fashionista girlfriend keep me away.” Angrily, she wiped away her own tears.
“That’s my girl.” Her grandfather pulled her into his arms and hugged her until she stopped crying.
• • •
“Erik, there’s someone here to see you.” His mother’s voice broke through the black haze that had gripped him since earlier in the day when Gunnar had pointed a shotgun at him and threatened to blow him away if he didn’t leave.
He put down the pitchfork he’d been using to muck out the barn and rushed past his mother, not even asking who the visitor was. He’d left a dozen messages and texts on Analise’s cell phone, hoping that she’d read them as soon as she turned it back on and agree to see him so he could explain.
Bursting through the back door, he let the screen door slam, willing to face the wrath of his grandmother in exchange for seeing his wife a second earlier. Instead of his grandmother’s stern voice asking him where his manners were, he heard her offering a cup of tea to the person waiting in the front room. Erik paused when he realized the answering voice wasn’t Analise’s. But it wasn’t Brenda’s either.
Cautiously, because the afternoon hadn’t actually gone well so far, he entered the front room. Having faced one shotgun today, he wasn’t anxious for a repeat performance. His grandmother hovered near the sofa and excused herself as soon as she saw him.
Ian MacEwan’s wife stood as he entered the room; he wracked his brain trying to remember her first name. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a skirt and blouse that looked like it had been hiding in the back of her closet for quite a few years. She wiped her palms down her skirt before extending a hand to him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sigurdson. Remember me? I’m Melissa MacEwan, Ian’s wife.” Her voice wobbled, and her grasp was limp when he shook her hand.
Great, another woman come to tell me what she thinks of me. Perfect way to round off one of the worst days of my life.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. MacEwan?” Erik did his best to inject a note of helpful compliance in his voice.
She wrung her hands and stared at the floor. “I’ve come to beg you to reconsider foreclosing on my husband. Please, we have three small children. If we lose the house, we’ll have to move back in with Ian’s parents. I don’t think I can take living with them again—all five of us in one small bedroom. If you give us a chance, we’ll repay you as soon as we can.” She sank to her knees on the carpet.
If there was any way for Erik to feel worse that day, he didn’t know what it was.
“Please, get up.” He put his hand out to help her to her feet. “Have a seat.”
She did as he asked but still didn’t look him in the eye. “Ian doesn’t know I’m here.”
“I won’t tell him. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee, Mrs. MacEwan?” He didn’t know why he was prolonging this interview. Except he admired a woman who was prepared to fight for her family. Even if it meant humbling herself before a monster.
“Melissa, please call me Melissa. Yes, thank you, tea would be nice.”
He went into the kitchen and boiled the kettle. Looking out the back window, he saw his mother and grandmother sitting in a set of wooden chairs, admiring the flower garden. He couldn’t imagine either of them being proud of him right now. He wasn’t proud of himself. Instead of the victorious feeling he’d expected, he felt shallow and petty. He’d ruined innocent lives in his quest for vengeance. And if he didn’t set things right, he risked losing the woman he loved. His beautiful sister, Karen, wouldn’t have wanted any of this.
He poured the boiling water into the pot his grandmother had left ready and carried the tray into the sitting room. Melissa MacEwan sat bolt upright in the chair, her eyes darting between him and the front door. He poured the tea and waited while she added a bit of milk to the cup. He should have offered her a Scotch. God knows he could’ve used one.
She took a fortifying sip of the hot brew before setting it down on the coffee table. Her hands shook less now, and finally she looked him in the eye. She had soft, brown eyes—Bambi eyes. Was it possible to feel worse?
“Ian has paid for what he did to your sister. When we were first married, he’d have nightmares about her. It made it hard for him to concentrate and get work. Finally, as time passed and more people forgot, it became a little easier. Still, he named our daughter Karen so he wouldn’t ever forget. Said it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done and if someone treated his daughter like that he’d kill them. But, I hope you’ll see, Mr. Sigurdson, by foreclosing now, it’s not only Ian you’ll hurt. I’m not asking for myself. I married him knowing what he’d done. I went to school in Arborg, but he told me when we started dating, said I needed to know his bad as well as the good. It’s the children, you see. We’ve already moved four times in the past six years. They love the new house, finally they have their own rooms—” Her voice broke, and she grabbed for her handbag on the floor, searching for a tissue.
Erik reached over, pulled the box of Kleenex from the side table, and put it in front of her. He might need one in a minute. He’d wasted so much time. For years, he’d only looked at the catalyst to his sister’s suicide. He’d kept her memory alive for all the wrong reasons. Rather than remembering his sister for her beautiful personality, he’d focused on the horror of her death. It was as useless to blame the people involved as the rope she’d used to hang herself. He should have spent his energy assisting others—educating people and working to eradicate the stigma of mental illness so teens like his sister weren’t afraid to ask for help. Instead, he’d made things worse, ruined other people’s lives. Ruined his own life. But there was something he could still rectify.
“I’ll tell the bank to hold off. We’ll come to some sort of arrangement—maybe profit-sharing. That way, I won’t burden the operating budget. Go home to your family, Melissa. I won’t cause any more trouble.”
“Really?” She raised her tear-stained face to his.
“Yes. I’ll get the bank to call Ian in the next half hour.” The relief on her face was worth the financial sacrifice. Chances were he’d never recover the money, but that didn’t seem important now.
“You won’t tell Ian I came to see you, will you? I mean, you can if you have to. It’s just, he’s feeling a bit emasculated lately … ”
“I won’t tell him, although I think he married an incredible woman. At least he made one right deci
sion in his younger days.”
“Thank you.” As he stood, she flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
“No need. I shouldn’t have done what I did in the first place. I’ve made things worse and will probably pay for it for the rest of my life as well.”
“I think your wife should be proud of you. It takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong and try to fix it.” Her hand flew to her mouth as though she realized that insulting him might not be the best thing to do in the circumstances.
He tried to smile to show he hadn’t taken offense, but it was nearly impossible given the state of his marriage. Would Analise forgive him? Or had he inadvertently destroyed his own chance at happiness? “Good-bye, Melissa. I wish you all the best.”
She climbed into a battered pickup truck and drove slowly down the driveway. As she turned onto the road he went into the kitchen and made a couple phone calls—the first to the bank, then to leave another message on Analise’s phone. It had been only three hours and already he ached to see her. It was going to be a long evening.
Chapter 16
Erik took the stairs two at a time. The old Paris apartment building had seen better days, although it was clean enough. Hell, he’d seen better days. It’d been six weeks since he’d held his wife, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go on. Hope that she’d listen and take him back was the only thing that kept him going. And even that was fading now.
Stonewalled by Gunnar, Erik had had to track down Analise’s father to find out her address. Monsieur Tagan had to call his lawyer to find out exactly where she lived. What father didn’t even know his daughter’s address? What husband lost his wife after only two days? The familiar ache in Erik’s chest intensified.