by Brea Viragh
I shoved him away, no easy task. “What aren’t you telling me?”
His brows drew down irritably. “What? Are you going to jump me every time I don’t want to talk about my day?”
“Whoa, there.” I held my hands out like a shield and sat up. “You don’t have any reason to get upset. What’s wrong? Did we get more bad news from Hank?”
Duncan sat up as well, clenching his fists. “No, there’s been no news from Hank. You’d think paying a man a huge wad of money meant he’d keep you in the loop, but around here everyone runs on their own damn time.”
“Who are you mad at, baby?” I framed his face with my hands. “What happened while I was gone today?”
He pushed me away. “All I wanted to do was enjoy a nice evening with you without any talk of money or contractors.”
I raised a brow. “We can still have a nice evening together. I only just got home.” I straightened my shirt for something to do. “I’m sorry I brought it up, although I don’t understand why you’re in such a bad mood.”
“I’m not in a bad mood. I’m feeling a little frustrated.”
“It seems like a bad mood to me.”
The past week hadn’t gone our way, I admit. Amidst the stressors there had been a healthy, and daily, dose of bickering often keeping us at odds. There were nights we went to bed without saying “I love you.” I tried not to personalize the slight because I was, in part, to blame as well.
When Duncan remained silent and sullen, I continued. “We can get back to the loving if you want. Will it make you feel better if I take my top off?” I moved to the buttons on my blouse, surprised when he stopped me.
“No, it won’t make me feel better. Keep your clothes on.”
“Duncan—”
“It’s too much, Iz.”
My gut flipped at the tiniest prospect of more bad news. “What’s too much?”
“All of this.” Duncan gestured around the room before rising to his feet. He reminded me of a caged zoo tiger. “I go to work and come home, repeat the cycle every day, confined to this tiny room where there isn’t enough space to pee in private.”
I nodded, folding my hands on my lap. “I understand. It’s getting a little hard to handle. But the septic system should be fixed soon and then we can focus on moving in.” Look at me, being the optimistic one. And Duncan said I never looked on the bright side.
“There’s a whole other issue.” Duncan prowled the space between the bed and the television console. “Our possessions are in storage, and when we finally get to move into the house, whenever that blessed day comes, it’s going to be even more work.”
“If you’re trying to tell me you’re bored, believe me, I understand.” I gave a half shrug. “I’m feeling a little cooped up myself.”
“I feel like, moving here, I abandoned my security. You know? It took me a while to realize I miss my old, solid friendships. The guys I met in California. And with you so busy and distracted…”
“I understand.”
“This isn’t how I want my life to be.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Do you mind if I take off for a bit to clear my head?”
“I guess not. But we haven’t seen each other all day,” I answered.
Duncan crossed to me, kissing my forehead forcefully before grabbing the car keys. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll get through this.”
I wondered if “this” was something new or the compilation of the crap. At least the universe threw us a bone with the cake. “Sure, no problem.” I forced my voice to remain gentle despite the nagging suspicion inside me begging to stop him. To grab him by the arm and demand concrete answers. To make him stay and tell me the truth.
I did none of those.
Duncan closed the door gently behind him and I listened to those heavy footsteps until they faded. The cheerful whistling may have been my imagination.
I fell asleep waiting for Duncan to return. Those bright red numbers on the bedside clock marked the hours of his absence, ticking away despite my curiosity and eventual frustration. Where had my fiancé gone? What was he doing?
And why wasn’t I enough to keep him home?
Those were my own insecurities talking, the product of an overactive imagination coupled with low self-esteem. So as I tried to be valiant, to soothe my nerves by remembering my successes—and there weren’t many—other voices crept inside. Voices whispering of what little I’d accomplished with my life and all the milestones I’d failed to conquer. Now I’d alienated the one man in all my doomed relationships who loved me enough to, yes, put a ring on it.
Of course Duncan wasn’t feeling at peace with the Heartwood community. He left behind an established group of friends, a growing insurance practice, and the stability of a home network. Sure, he grew up and went to college in Alabama, but for the last fifteen years he’d made California his home base. Although he’d agreed to move to Virginia with me, Duncan hadn’t been aware of the stakes, his happy-go-lucky nature steaming ahead with the positives and refusing to acknowledge the what-ifs.
I knew as we packed up the apartment in Santa Barbara that we were in for a rough transition, though I kept my concerns to myself. Too many lectures about being a Negative Nancy. From coast to coast, diving into a different way of life with vastly different people and none of the benefits of acquaintances, was a rough transition.
It was a lot to ask of a person, so I shouldn’t have been surprised at his breakdown. Yet I was. Of the two of us, I considered Duncan indestructible. Level-headed compared to my flights of fancy.
Now I doubted I’d be able to do the same for him. For although I didn’t want to admit it, my coming back to the town of my youth changed all kinds of balances between us, and the repercussions continued to ripple.
Everything would look better in the morning, I assured my frayed nerves. It had to.
Sometime in the wee hours I heard the door crack open, accompanied by hushed footsteps on the carpet. Duncan crawled into bed later smelling of sweet things, cologne, and sugar. Half awake, I smiled at his return and curled my body toward him, rewarded when those arms drew me close. We fit together uneasily, me the little spoon and him the bigger one.
“I’m back,” he whispered in my ear.
I murmured a response and promptly returned to sleep.
**
Three days passed amidst a stew of bickering and more than our fair share of slammed doors and passive-aggressive jabs. I attempted to help Duncan adjust his tie and took no offense when he brushed my hands away to do it himself. Okay, half-truth—I took offense, but tried not to let it bother me.
“I’ve got it. I know how to tie my own knot,” he insisted tersely.
“All right, you’re the master at this kind of thing.” I pursed my lips. “You’re a little prickly this morning.”
Duncan took a gander at the mirror and brushed at his stubble. “I didn’t sleep too well last night, Isabel. You know this.”
“That makes two of us.” I smiled even when he didn’t. “You’ll have to come home early and take a nap.”
Duncan grimaced at the notion. “I can’t spend any more time in this room than absolutely necessary.”
Like I was any different? Still, I continued to chirp happily about the day ahead of us. “I know your schedule is packed, but do you think you can carve out some time for us to see the house? I have an idea for a sun porch and I want to run it by Hank. I don’t think it will be too labor intensive.”
“And spend more money than we already have? I said not to worry, but let’s not be stupid.”
“We could always do the work ourselves, but I’m unlikely to be of any help. See these chicken wings?” I pointed at my bicep. “Nice to look at but useless when it comes to heavy lifting.”
Duncan didn’t bite at my joke. “I’ll see what I can do, Iz, but I have a full day planned and people I need to see.”
So why do you look so cheerful at the prospect? Who do you need to see? I wondered, though I kept t
he thought to myself as I bounced back to the bed.
“Let me know, okay? I think it’s important to spend time together. You’ve been so busy—”
“Yes, well, someone has to keep a handle on these bills still rolling in, and I don’t see you doing it.”
Ouch. His tone cut right to the heart. “You told me money wasn’t a problem and I’ve been trying to save a bit on the side.”
Duncan turned from the mirror and held out a hand to me. “I’m sorry if I seem rude. I’m stressed.”
I placed my hand in his, grinning when he squeezed my fingers and happy for the connection. “I know.”
I drove to work later planning the coming two weeks in my mind. Venue and dress were taken care of, as well as the cake and food. Thank God the French restaurant had a catering menu. Deposits went on the credit card while I saved money and worked my ass into the ground.
Needing reassurance on the home front, a quick check of the old homestead had revealed a freshly graded lawn, new sod, and the finishing touches coming along on the septic system. Hank sent me on my way with a promise to be finished before the wedding. I would have kissed him if not for the mustache.
Duncan’s return meant I stayed the course. Remained on the right track even when I felt tilted, ready to topple. I kept his late night reassurances in mind when I pulled into the tiny parking spot behind the County Corner General Store.
“Good morning, everyone.” I breezed through the back door smiling. Fake it until you make it. I vowed to apply the saying to work as I kept the grin in place.
Beulah’s quicksilver mood changes didn’t faze me. “Where did you grow up, in a barn?” she exclaimed as I walked into the prep area. “You’re tracking mud all over the place!”
“I just came from the house, sorry. I wiped them off as best I could but there’s always a little dirt sticking in the treads.” To emphasize my point, I knocked the side of my shoe against my leg and watched dried mud crumble to the ground in a zigzag pattern.
“See? I’ll sweep it up in a minute.” I dragged a hair tie from my wrist and did what I could with the chin-length strands. “It’s no problem.” I donned an apron and prepared for work.
Beulah blustered, “You better believe you will. I’m not touching a broom for your mess.”
“Aw, lay off her,” Kelly said as she chopped lettuce. “Can’t you see she’s finally happy instead of moping around infecting everyone with her bad mood? Take advantage of the situation, B.”
“Kelly’s right.” I pointed at them both with a carrot and grater. “Take advantage of this, because we all know it won’t be long before I revert.”
“Why the change? Did you get laid last night?” Kelly smirked.
What was this I detected? A hint of sisterly camaraderie? Maybe the phony optimism worked its wonders fast? “Nope. I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I got a dress I don’t hate and have a cake lined up with a professional.”
“How wonderful, honey. Simply marvelous.” Beulah had to smile. “I know you’ve been dreading the whole wedding planning brouhaha. Heaven knows I had a time of it back when I wed my Phil, and we’ve been together twenty-five years.”
Somewhere along the line I fell into sync with those mixed-up ladies and I pondered the change in myself. I dreaded heading to work less each day, fell into an easier rhythm, and almost didn’t mind Beulah’s back-handed compliments. Almost.
We prepped salads and soups for the mid-afternoon rush, organized the desserts, and checked the supply of condiments. I was about to joke on the usefulness of a good condiment when August walked in the back door.
Hell, my good mood extended to him as well, and I sent him a warm grin.
“You aren’t supposed to be in the kitchen,” I told him playfully. “Get out. Shoo.”
“Can I have a word with you in private?” His hands were deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. “It’s important.”
“Jeez, okay. Ladies, I’ll be right back. We have to have a word in private.” I excused myself amidst their giggles and followed August out the back door. “What happened? Please tell me no one is dead.”
August shook his head. “No one died.”
I shaded my eyes against the sun, shining at its peak for the day. “So there’s another important reason you caught me at work…like maybe a lottery win?” I said with exaggerated excitement. A girl could hope.
He scuffed at a pebble. “I had a…disturbing…talk with Leda earlier today.”
In my mind, any talk with Leda fell under the category of disturbing. “God, I did not throw her stupid cupcakes out. No matter what you heard.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “I dropped the basket in the trash, yes, but I fished them out later and Duncan and I shared them. They were actually delicious, and you can tell her that for me.”
August shifted his feet, refusing to meet my gaze. The seconds ticked by and my forced good mood, which had been on its way to becoming real, suddenly shifted back to the quicksand of uncertainty. My heart sank.
“It’s not about the cupcakes. She told me some upsetting news today,” August continued. At once we were eight years old again, caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I prodded. “August, you’re being a little vague. What about? She’s moving away?”
“No, she’s not moving away.”
My expression was grim and my eyes focused on him with the strength of laser beams. “Spill it, please. I won’t ask a second time.”
His foot scuffed at pebbles again. “Duncan came on to her.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, all signs of my earlier good mood gone. Raw emotion stormed through me until my hands became fists and my stomach a ball of knots. “Tell me you’re joking, August. I haven’t heard a word about this, and I think Duncan would have told me if he and Leda—” the words were like ash in my mouth and I swallowed hard.
August sighed, his face lifted to the sky as he turned away. “I hate to be the one to tell you, then, but Leda was adamant. She said he was helping her design fonts for her business logo and made some…untoward remarks about her figure. Tried to kiss her before she pushed him away and told him to leave, but then he grabbed her…”
Shaking my head until I saw stars, I spoke confidently, to prove a point. “I don’t believe you. Duncan wouldn’t do a thing like that, and he never said anything about helping Leda with her cupcake business logos. Lies, I tell you. Leda is lying.”
“She has no reason to lie.” August moved to touch my arm lightly, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Iz. I thought you should know.”
“No. She is lying.” I felt the heat as anger rose from furious depths. All the harsh negative feelings I’d pushed away for my own peace of mind now blazed. “Duncan is faithful. We’re getting married in two weeks.”
“I know.”
I didn’t jerk, nothing so forceful, though I edged away from August in a small but deliberate motion. “She’s lying,” I repeated emphatically.
“All I’m saying is you should have a conversation with Duncan. I believe Leda one hundred percent, and if there is something going on then it’s best to get it out in the open now before you go through with something you’ll regret. Maybe Duncan isn’t the perfect groom you’ve made him out to be.”
There was no antagonism on his end, only cool resolve. Knowing August so well, I recognized the emotion flitting across his face, something akin to pity. Regret. Yes, I’d seen that look before, I thought, as August shifted to lean back against the wall. An edge of honesty and resignation there, the same look he’d had the night he told me about Brett and his cheating.
Could I have made the same mistake in choosing a partner now as I had then? I hadn’t believed August all those years ago. And now…Odd how his face took on those same characteristics again. Raw nerves, sadness, a hint of disappointment. The same feelings from my past surged forward, a half remembered dream now fully realized once more.
Left wit
h little choice, I crossed my arms and stuck to my guns. “No. There’s nothing going on, I can assure you.”
He has been acting strange, my subconscious whispered. I told my subconscious to go shit in a hat.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Please, just have a talk with him, okay?” August glanced out to the road, to the two lanes and single stoplight where cars waited. In either direction rose mountains and fields, where corn reached toward the sky and pines grew tall.
Then those eyes shot back to me and held. “I’m sorry, Isabel.”
“What are you sorry about?” I asked testily. “Nothing happened. Your girlfriend is a rotten liar.”
His face darkened. “She’s telling the truth.”
“Did you see it yourself? Walk in on them in a compromising position?” Saying it aloud had my stomach dropping the rest of the way into a sour pit, a wave of bile bubbling up my throat. “Because if you weren’t there, then I call bullshit. Maybe you should have a talk with Leda because she obviously has an agenda.”
Puzzled, August shifted before settling back to study me. “How do you figure?”
I jerked my shoulder up. It took a whole lot of willpower and pride to keep my gaze level instead of searing him with a death glare. “She’s made eyes at him before, so it’s not a far stretch to imagine her taking advantage of his goodwill.”
“You’re wrong,” he told me slowly. “Have a chat with your man and get back to me. Leda has no reason to cause a stir, and if she says he was out of bounds, I support her.”
What about me? I longed to ask. Who was there to support me in all this hullaballoo?
My fingers curled around my arms to steady my shaking hands. “I have to go back to work.” I resisted the urge to rub my eyes against the sudden burning sensation. August had closed himself off, I realized in a snap. Whatever he’d had to say, the burden constricting his chest, was no longer his alone. I now shared whatever concerns he had, whatever betrayal may or may not exist.
The small shred of good feelings I’d managed to instill in myself shriveled and died as my mind raced.
“I thought you needed to hear it from someone who cares about you,” August said softly. “Try not to think about this now while you’re at work.”