by Tami Kidd
“Then, my dear, I’ll see you there.”
“Bye, Nathan.”
At 12:25, Mara pulled up to Joe’s. A rush of nostalgia hit her like a tidal wave. She and Thomas had lunch here quite often. Looking at the red building with its green striped awning felt like a lost child finally coming home. What the small restaurant lacked in size, it made up for in warmth. As Mara stepped inside, the inviting cool air and delicious aromas greeted her like sweet kisses.
Nathan stood and waved from the table. She walked over and, always a gentleman, he politely pulled out her chair.
“You look great, Mara. How have you been?”
“Pretty good, I guess.”
A young waitress walked over to the table and gave them menus and took their drink order. Mara’s mouth watered. The eggplant parmesan called her name. Nathan ordered the linguini with clam sauce. The waitress brought bread, hot out of the oven, and spiced olive oil in two small dipping bowls.
Mara feared she would lose her appetite if she asked Nathan about the letter beforehand, so she waited. No sense wasting this wonderful food.
When lunch arrived, they made small talk as they ate.
“How are things at work?” Mara asked.
“Fine, except we all miss Thomas like crazy. Things aren’t the same without him. How is the writing coming along?”
“I haven’t started back yet. My heart isn’t in it.”
“I understand. It must be very hard on you right now.”
After they finished lunch, Nathan tilted his head to one side. “Mara, I don’t believe you asked me to meet you here to make idle conversation. Not that I don’t love talking to you, but I can tell you have something on your mind. What is it?”
Mara took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling to find the words she had avoided so far. “Nathan, I have something I want to show you. Please give me your thoughts. And please, be honest.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is serious, Nathan.” Mara reached into her purse and took out the letter. She handed it to him. As he read, she studied his face for any signs that might help her read his thoughts. His face revealed nothing. When he finished, he refolded it and passed it back.
“You want to know if I know anything about this.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I’m sorry, Mara, I don’t. I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you that Thomas never cheated on you, because as you know even good people do bad things. I’m a prime example.” He leaned forward. “I can tell you with all honesty that Thomas never said anything to me. Nor did I ever suspect him of having an affair.”
Relief and disappointment flooded Mara at the same time. “Thank you, Nathan. I appreciate your honesty.”
Nathan sat back and looked at her with grim eyes. “But I believe I know who R.K. is.”
Eight
The floor beneath Mara opened up and swallowed her. It felt like she plummeted down a huge dark hole. A thunderous roar sounded in her ears. God, please don’t let me pass out again. The wonderful smells of the little Italian restaurant vaporized into something thick and foul. She felt sick to her stomach.
Up until now, she had habored some hope that Thomas’s infidelity was fake, a horrible, horrible joke. Nathan’s admittance to knowing R.K. confirmed the letter and the woman who wrote it really existed.
Mara remained seated only because she didn’t think she had the strength to run. She wasn’t being stoic or strong. She really wanted to run. She wanted to pretend that it was all a nightmare. Thomas didn’t die. She hadn’t found a letter to him from another woman. R.K. wasn’t a real person.
“I can’t be sure, Mara, but I remember someone who worked in our office for a while with the initials R.K.,” Nathan said with some hesitation.
“Who?”
“Her name was Rebecca Kincaid.”
“You said she worked in your office. Does that mean she doesn’t work there now?”
“That’s right. She left about a year ago. I think she moved back to Chicago. That’s where she had originally come from.”
“Tell me everything you can, Nathan. Did you ever see her and Thomas act in a suspicious manner? Did they go out to lunch together? Did you see or hear anything that might have raised your suspicions?”
“No.” Nathan shook his head. “I never saw them act inappropriately toward each other. Always polite, they were coworkers, but I don’t believe they were ever anything more.”
That doesn’t mean anything. They might have tried to assuage suspicion by avoiding contact in the workplace. “Tell me what you know about her.”
“Well, she was also an Environmental Protection Specialist. She came to assist in a proposal we were working on at the time. For a year, her position was a term position or temporary, but she received a six-month extension.”
“When did she work for you?”
Nathan focused on the table and rubbed his graying hair as if trying to remember something long forgotten. “Let me think. She worked for me about a year and a half. Her contract was up and then she left. That was about a year ago.”
“Do you know for certain she went back to Chicago?”
“No. I never heard from her again. Do you know when the letter was written?” Nathan asked.
“No, there’s no postmark on it. It was hand delivered.”
Nathan looked as if he had flunked a final exam or had been rejected at a job interview. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
Mara looked at him squarely. “What does she look like?”
“Mara, I don’t think…”
“What—does—she—look like? Tell me.”
He hesitated. “She was a beautiful woman. But you know Thomas. Beautiful women never turned his head. He only had eyes for you.”
Mara tilted her head. “Now, you’re insulting my intelligence.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You and Thomas were married for a very long time. He would not have jeopardized losing you for anything.”
“We would have been married twenty years on June 24.”
“In all that time, did you ever suspect him of having an affair?”
“No, but—” Unable to maintain direct eye contact, she looked at her hands.
“I know what you’re going to say. Maybe he just didn’t get caught, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Mara, let me say this one thing. In all the years I knew Thomas, not once did he ever take a second glance at a woman. I truly believe that with all our business trips and meetings upstate and all the personal time we spent together, I would have noticed if he had.”
“Thanks for lunch, Nathan, but I have to go.” Mara stood up and dropped her napkin on the table. She turned to leave the restaurant.
“Wait, Mara.” Nathan quickly pulled some cash out of his wallet and threw it on the table. He ran after her. “Please don’t leave like this.”
“Leave like what? You told me what you know, and I appreciate it. I really do. I’m sorry if you think I’m abrupt or rude, but I have things I must take care of. Really, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Nathan put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. “Okay, I’ll let you go, but call me if you need anything. Day or night. Promise me that.”
She gave him a hug and then opened the door to her trusty little car and got in. “I will. Scout’s honor.”
Mara drove back to Riverside with a determination she hadn’t felt since Thomas’s death. She would find out the truth if it was the last thing she did.
Future plans spun inside her head. I’ll go through all Thomas’s things again. Maybe I missed something. I wasn’t looking for anything suspicious before, but now I know to keep my eyes open.
First thing, she planned to check the credit card, at least the statements from the past two years. She didn’t think Thomas would be stupid enough to use their card. The evidence would show up. S
ince Mara very seldom looked at the statements, maybe he thought he could hide them from her. Next, she would go through his personal emails, but that didn’t mean he never opened a secret account. I’ll look at his cell phone bills to see if there are any numbers that don’t look familiar. Or from out of state, especially Illinois. Thoughts raced through her mind faster than she could keep up.
She didn’t know why she wanted to go to the trouble to search for more proof, the evidence painfully clear. There had been something going on. Hello? It’s right there in front of you, stupid. In black and white. What more proof do I need?
Mara knew she couldn’t stop. No matter how hard she tried, she had to have answers.
Nine
For the next week, Mara was relentless in her pursuit of the truth. She searched through all their credit card statements. She scoured the cell phone bills and looked up every phone number on the internet that she didn’t recognize. She even went through his emails.
Not stopping there, she searched every drawer in the house and every pocket in every item of clothing that Thomas owned. She went through Thomas’s personal items the guys from the gym brought from his locker. She searched the contents of the box from his desk at work. Any file folder she found, she went through it page by agonizing page. She even rummaged through all the junk drawers in the house for matchbooks with phone numbers written on the inside. She removed the cushions from the couch and the chairs for something that might have fallen in between the cushions. The search inside Thomas’s truck didn’t turn up anything either.
By next Friday, Mara was totally drained. She sat on the couch in the den staring out the window at the backyard and tried to come up with any ideas that might help. A knock on the door and a muffled voice from the other side snared her attention.
“Mara, you home? It’s me,” Lucia called out as she eased the door open.
“I’m in the den,” Mara said in a weary voice.
Lucia walked into the room and took a seat adjacent to where Mara sat on the couch.
“What’s up?” Mara asked more out of politeness than actual interest.
“Not much. I thought I’d check in on you. I haven’t heard much from you all week. What have you been up to?”
“Not a great deal. I ripped apart my house.”
Lucia looked around. “What have you ripped apart?”
“Everything. I want to find out more about R.K. Excuse me, Rebecca Kincaid,” she said with contempt.
“Any luck?”
“No. I didn’t find anything. Well, unless you count two remotes and $1.28 in change.”
“Hey, that’s nothing to sneeze at. Those remotes will come in handy. And you can get a milkshake or something with the money—or put it in your piggy bank.”
Mara didn’t find Lucia’s attempt at humor amusing. Still upset with herself, her anger with Thomas doubled. She felt like she wasted her time. “I guess my deductive skills aren’t as good as I thought they were. How come it’s so easy to write about and solve mysteries, but when it’s a real-life mystery, it’s like climbing Mt. Everest?”
“Let it go. Don’t torture yourself. Get on with your life. Don’t obsess about this woman. Don’t worry about what may or may not have happened between her and Thomas.”
Mara leapt as though she’d been stung. “I can’t!”
Lucia looked shocked. Mara rarely lost her temper.
Mara softened her tone. “I wish I could, Lucia, I really do. I can’t let it go. I told myself it was stupid and that it’s not going to solve anything. If I find out what happened, what good will come of it? It doesn’t matter. I know this, but I have to know. I have to.”
“I pray every day that you will find peace. I love you. You are like my sister and it hurts me to see you in such pain.” Lucia stood and put her arms around Mara.
The sweet scent of Lucia’s perfume filled Mara’s senses. The tenderness in her touch seemed to draw the anger out of her body. “Thank you. I love you too and I feel the same way. I am so lucky to have you, Lucia. You don’t know how thankful I am that you watch out for me.”
“Always. That’s what sisters do.”
“You know what I want?” Mara asked as if she came to a sudden realization.
“No, what?”
“I want a banana split milkshake. Come on. My treat. I recently came into some money.”
“You’re on. I’ll drive.”
Sitting like two little girls in the ice cream shop, Mara and Lucia savored the sweet creamy deliciousness of their shakes. They were in Heaven.
“Mm, mm, this is the best milkshake ever!” Mara said. “The flavors fuse together into a delightful explosion in my mouth.”
“It’s wonderful. I’m so glad you suggested it. I’ve never had a banana split shake before.”
“Thomas dreamed it up one time when we were here. He asked the kid behind the counter if he could make a banana split, except in a milkshake. He did and we were hooked.”
“It’s genius!”
They enjoyed their treats in silence. Then a serious look shrouded Lucia’s face. “What are you going to do now, Mara?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you continue to write your novels? Sell the house? Get a job? What are your plans?”
Mara stirred the shake with her straw. “I thought I might sell the house and get a smaller one, or maybe an apartment. Thomas left me quite a substantial life insurance policy, and I have a nice little nest egg built up from my royalties. So, I don’t have any immediate plans. As far as writing, I think I should wait till my muse comes back. I don’t have any stories in me right now. I feel flat and empty. Like Elvis, my imagination has left the building.” Mara pulled a sad smile.
Lucia reached across the table and softly touched her arm. “I’m worried about you. I can see you’re in pain.”
“I feel like I’m sailing through life without direction. Drifting aimlessly.”
“Are you finished with the letter? Will you put it back in the safe-deposit box?”
“No, I closed the account.”
“I guess Thomas must have gotten the box specifically for the letter.”
“It appears that was the case.”
“I wonder how long he had the box.”
Mara’s eyes widened. She slapped the table. “That’s—a—very—good—question.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Lucia asked, confused.
“Luc, thanks, you’re a genius!”
“Why, what’d I say?”
“If I can find out when Thomas first opened the safe-deposit box, that might help me pinpoint when he got the letter! Maybe I can narrow down my search to a specific time.”
“But I thought—”
“I know, you thought I was going to give up the search. But this may really help. I have to know, Luc. I have to.” Mara picked up her cell phone and searched for Riverside National Bank. She quickly punched in the numbers.
“Yes, hello,” she said anxiously when a real person answered instead of the usual automated voice reeling off the menu. “My name is Mara Byrne and I recently closed out a safe-deposit box. Can you tell me when it was originally opened?” She looked at Lucia and gave her a thumbs-up. “She put me on hold,” Mara said. “I think she may be getting the information for me.”
“That’s good.” Lucia stuck her thumb up and smiled.
“Yes, I’m here. Are you sure? Please, check the date again. Okay. Thank you.” Mara looked at Lucia in disbelief as she put the phone down on the table.
“What? What’d they say?”
“She said it was opened a year ago, ten days before Thomas died.”
Ten
Lucia drove Mara home. She offered to come in, but Mara told her she wanted to think and promised to call her tomorrow.
Mara had questions she wanted answered. They flew around in her head like gnats around a fruit basket. Did Rebecca Kincaid and Thomas have an affair after she moved back to Chicago? Or was R.K. someone else e
ntirely? If they had been having an affair for over a year, then why only one letter? Why no other signs? Nothing made sense. Nothing added up.
She read the letter again hoping to find more clues. The only reference to a date was January 4. But which January 4 was R.K. referring to? For all she knew, it could have been January 4, 1999!
That night, dreams disturbed her sleep. Dreams about Thomas and some faceless woman. The thing that struck her as odd the next morning was how often Alex appeared in her dreams. Many times, Mara dreamed of Alex because her character was always forefront in her mind. Alex seemed more like a real person rather than a character in her novels. Sometimes solutions to problems with her storyline or plot would come to her in dreams. Alex even helped her solve crimes.
Thomas always shook his head and smiled when Mara told him about the dreams. He never remembered his own. He found it hard to fathom someone who almost always remembered.
The next morning, Mara walked to the front lawn for the newspaper.
It was already hot. She loved the heat in Southern California, a dry heat nothing like Arkansas, where the humidity rolled off your skin in waves of sweat. Mara had grown to love the desert. California was home and Arkansas had become a distant memory, one that always held a very special place in her heart. She regarded family who still lived there very dear to her, but California was where she felt she belonged.
The walkway burned her bare feet, so she quickly trotted back to the cool tiled-floor inside. She sat at the breakfast nook, opened the paper, and sipped her coffee. It felt good to keep up with her morning ritual as much as possible. Right after Thomas died, she didn’t care if she lived or perished, but now, even something as mundane as reading the newspaper made her feel closer to him.
She scanned the front page for ground-breaking or earth-shattering news; however, more of the same about the economy, bailouts, and the war on terror faced her. An article about a teenage girl abducted from her home stood out. The family made a statement, more of a plea for the safe return of their little girl. That’s so sad. Please, God, send that girl home safely to her parents.