Perfect Piece

by Rebeca Seitz

  She dug some cash out of her purse and tossed it on the table, eager now to get out before Jamison saw her. Did it even occur to him he might be spotted?

  The second garage sale forgotten, Zelda got in her car and pointed it toward Stars Hill. This would not be an easy conversation to have with Jack, but she’d be darned if she would hide Jamison’s secret. Let Jack handle his “sweet” girls. If they’d deigned to offer her friendship, she might be inclined to walk with Meg through this. Heaven knew she’d had some experience with it with her first husband.

  But Meg and the others were happy in their private little kinship. So Jack could deal with it.

  Seventeen

  A crack of thunder woke him up. Jamison turned to look out the bedroom window, blinking his eyes at the bright lightning.

  Great. We make it to the weekend and the bottom falls out of the sky. He closed his eyes. Would Hannah or Savannah be scared by the storm enough to come to their bedroom? Not really a question of if, he amended, but of who would arrive first. He clicked on the lamp and picked up a book.

  He didn’t have to wait long before Hannah came through the door, her pink polka-dotted elephant under one arm. “Hey, sweet girl, did the storm wake you up?”

  Hannah nodded and hugged the elephant closer. “It’s loud outside.”

  “Yes, it is, sweetie. Would you like to come up here with Mommy and Daddy?”

  He barely had the sentence out before she climbed up the side of the bed and snuggled down between him and Meg. Meg barely stirred.

  Before the surgery, one of their kids could sneeze in the next county and she’d be running out the door with a Kleenex. Now Hannah could crawl up in bed and even carry on a conversation with him, and Meg’s breathing didn’t miss a beat.

  He realized now how many nights her sleep must have been interrupted before he began waking up with the kids. Thank heaven Hannah was two and Savannah and James had their sleeping habits down well. How did Meg ever get them through to this age? No wonder she’d had a brain tumor; her brain probably went on mutiny after all she asked it to do.

  After all he’d made her ask it to do. Lately more and more thoughts crowded in. He couldn’t deny their convincing number. He’d been a pretty lousy husband thus far. He looked across at the sleeping forms of his wife and youngest daughter, their faces bathed in lamplight. Meg had given him three beautiful children, a warm and loving home, and her constant support while he built his career. How did he repay her? By spending more hours at the office than he had to, rarely if ever thanking her for anything she did, and generally taking her for granted.

  In some ways, he owed the tumor a debt of gratitude. If they’d continued on the way they were, would Meg have gotten fed up at some point and left? Not until the kids were grown and out of the house, he felt certain. But would he have awakened the day after Hannah’s eighteenth birthday to a lonely bed? To a closet half-empty?

  Too many other guys told the story of a wife who stuck around until the kids were grown, then split. Until the past few weeks, he’d never considered he could become one of those men.

  He’d give nearly anything now to have that warm, loving, solid woman beside him. Instead, every new morning brought the familiar question. Which Meg would open her eyes beside him? Loving Meg? Angry Meg? Volatile Meg? Frustrated Meg? Resigned Meg? Patient Meg?

  On the days he got glimpses of the old Meg, hope blossomed. Would today be one of those days? He set the book back on the nightstand, convinced by the passage of enough time that Savannah must not have been roused by the storm’s thrashings outside.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Meg’s soft voice drew his attention.

  “Storm woke me up.”

  Meg glanced back to the window where rain poured down in rivulets. As she watched, another flash of lightning sparked. Thunder rumbled a moment later. “Goodness, it’s coming a gully washer out there.”

  “Yeah, forecast said it would blow over by morning though. Good thing we’re getting it. This will give the farmers a good crop.”

  “When did Hannah join us?”

  “Not too long ago, a few minutes maybe.”

  Meg smiled. “I can’t believe I don’t wake up for this anymore.”

  “I’ve decided it’s about time you got a break, anyway.”

  She propped her head up on one elbow. “A break?”

  “From the middle of the night stuff. I’m telling you, Meg, I don’t know how you did it. And I should have told you long before now, but I’m grateful and honored with everything you’ve done to make a family and home with me.”

  Alarm jumped when tears filled her eyes. Maybe early morning wasn’t the best time to try for an emotional and honest conversation.

  “You’re welcome.” She leaned across the sleeping Hannah and kissed him.

  Sleeping child or not, he returned the kiss. Who knew when Meg would be in such a loving mood again? He inwardly sighed, wishing Hannah had slept through the storm. The way his luck ran these days, though, it made sense that Meg would finally open up to him when they had a two-year-old lying between them.

  Meg broke the kiss and leaned back into her pillows. “Since we’re both awake, you up for some conversation?”

  Conversation with Meg. Oh, how he’d missed it. Even if he hadn’t slept for seven straight nights, he would have found a way to stay awake.

  “Sure. Something on your mind?”

  “No, not really. How are things at work?”

  “Fairly good. We got some new business in while I was away, so I’m trying to get up to speed on that. Otherwise, things were pretty much as I left them.”

  “Paperwork still stacked to the ceiling?”

  “Would it be my office any other way?”

  She chuckled. “By the way, I don’t think I ever thanked you for hiring Jenny.”

  “She’s working out well?”

  “She’s a godsend. Why didn’t we hire her years ago?”

  “Because I’m a moron who didn’t see how much his wife did around here.”

  “Oh, well, as long as we’ve figured out the reason.”

  He winked. “Trust me, we figured it out.”

  “Hey, I was thinking about getting up and making us some pancakes this morning. Think you could help?”

  Meg wanted to fix breakfast? He’d do backflips in the living room and deliver plates on his feet while walking on his hands! Maybe, just maybe …

  Things might never be normal in his house again. “Absolutely!”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m not talking special recipe pancakes or anything. Just some Bisquick, egg, and milk.”

  “Honey, you could probably throw water on sawdust and these kids would eat it. I’m afraid my culinary skills have lowered the bar of taste bud requirements in this household.”

  “Your spaghetti was good.”

  “Thank Tandy. She told me her way of doing it was idiot proof. Guess she was right.”

  She crossed her ankles. “You asked Tandy how to cook?”

  “No, I griped to Clay about how I couldn’t make anything but hot dogs and mac and cheese. He had mercy on me and told Tandy to call with easy fixings. He started out telling me about his dishes, but I got lost after, ‘Find a big bowl.’ That man’s talents aren’t appreciated in this town. He’s over there flipping burgers when he could be a chef somewhere.”

  “Yeah, I wonder sometimes if he shouldn’t have gone to Orlando with Tandy instead of her moving here. He might be working in some four- or five-star restaurant by now.”

  “Bite your tongue, woman. If he left, he’d take all those burgers with him.”

  “Not to mention Clayton.”

  “That, too.”

  She ran a hand down Hannah’s hair. Hannah slept on. “I’m glad Tandy moved back here. I missed her those years she was in school and then Orlando. I’d about resigned myself to never having her back and then, just like that, she decides Orlando isn’t the place for her and a life here in Stars Hill with Clay fi
ts her dreams better. Just goes to show you, you think you know a person and then they surprise you.”

  The irony of her words cut deep. Meg had been nothing if not a constant surprise for two months.

  She caught his eye and read him more easily than the front page of a book. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult these days.”

  “Honey, you’re not difficult,” he lied.

  “Oh, stop. I know I am just like I know I’m as sick of this whole situation as you are. But I’m getting better. I feel a little more like me right now than I have since the surgery.”

  His hopes rose further. She acted more like her right now, too. “I’m glad.”

  Meg swung the covers off her legs. “I’m going to get a shower and get started on breakfast.”

  “Wait,” he checked the clock, “it’s barely six. How about I put Hannah back in her bed and we spend a little more time in here? Just the two of us.”

  Her smile made his breath catch in his throat, for it was the smile he’d known and loved since high school. He quickly picked Hannah up and turned toward the door. Storm or not, Hannah was about to learn how wonderful her own bed could be.

  Thankfully the sleeping child’s breathing barely changed rhythm when he slid her into bed and pulled up the covers. The storm outside hadn’t lit up the windows in at least five minutes. He prayed the worst had passed and he’d have the next hour or so with Meg before the kids stirred.

  Aching with a need to hold her and listen to that voice that melted his heart, he hurried back to the bedroom.

  She lay where he’d left her, now holding his book.

  “Find some interesting reading?”

  She looked over the top of the book at him. “Your bedtime reading is Dean Koontz? How do you calm down enough to sleep after reading this?”

  He shrugged and joined her in bed. “I don’t know. At some point my eyelids start going down and I can’t keep them up. I put the book aside and fall asleep. Why? What do you read at night?”

  “Mmm.” She put the book on the nightstand and rolled onto her side to face him. “Romance.”

  For the next half hour, he forgot about books. He forgot about the storm. He forgot about everything. Nothing mattered but this.

  Reconnecting with the woman he’d loved for as long as he could remember.

  * * *

  JAMISON WOKE THE second time to a sunny room and a snoring wife. Remembering what they’d shared before falling asleep together, he smiled and kissed her cheek. The clock warned him the morning outside was well underway and he wondered why the kids hadn’t come barreling into the room by now.

  Oh well. No need to borrow trouble. He slipped out of bed and headed for the shower.

  He’d just gotten the shampoo into his hair when the door opened.

  “You know, it’s not good manners to leave a woman alone in bed.”

  He turned to her, a smile automatically stretching across his face. “I’m so sorry for the error. Allow me to make it up to you.” His lips met hers and he pulled her into the shower. They stood beneath the spray like they’d done before everything went crazy. Things would work out.

  Maybe he wouldn’t go visit the diner on Monday. If Meg was back to normal, then he had no need to see Karen anymore. She’d wonder why he didn’t come around, but Karen had served her purpose. He’d found a source of conversation and happiness that allowed him to maintain his sanity while giving Meg her space.

  He mentally patted himself on the back for having worked such a neat solution to the dilemma he’d been facing. As beautiful and wonderful as Karen was—and he had enough honesty to admit that to himself, at least—she didn’t hold a candle to Meg when Meg was … well … Meg.

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER he and Meg stepped from the shower and toweled off. “Do you still want to try making pancakes or do you need to rest a while?”

  “Thinking pretty highly of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “No, babe. I was thinking of your leg. Thought it might need some rest after all that exercise.”

  She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine right now. I still need your help, though. Who knows when this thing is going to give out and I go sprawling across the floor?”

  He placed his arms around her and pulled her close. “I promise to pick you up.”

  “Thanks.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes a minute before she pushed him away and continued drying off. “Okay, no more fun for you this morning. The kids need pancakes and I intend to make them.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” He made short work of his hair and threw on the first pair of shorts and shirt his hands touched. Today didn’t demand high fashion, just his presence. Because today he and Meg would make breakfast together for their children. Had they ever made breakfast for the kids?

  He paused a second to think about it but couldn’t come up with a single instance in which he and Meg had come together in the kitchen to make a meal. What a wealth of missed opportunity. No time like the present to remedy that situation.

  “You coming?” he called.

  “Be right down. Will you go on and wake up the kids?”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Put them in front of a VeggieTales and tell them pancakes will be ready before it’s over.”

  “Will do.”

  He nearly danced out of the bedroom, his soul light and outlook finally bright.

  Eighteen

  Elation stayed with Jamison the rest of the weekend and greeted him Monday morning like a kiss. Meg’s mood had held. Were they finally past the worst of it? Since the doctor’s warning advised they could have been waiting a year for this—or even more—he felt particularly blessed that Meg bounced back after only two and a half months.

  Careful not to wake her, he left their bed and began his morning preparations for work. He briefly considered calling in just to enjoy the day with Meg, but too many clients needed his attention after his month-long absence. As much as he wished he could spend the day with her, he needed to make sure they kept their source of income.

  He showered and shaved, picked khaki trousers, a white oxford, and his brown sport coat, and set about finding his shoes. It took a few minutes before he remembered he’d left them in the study downstairs where he’d sat with Meg watching Battlestar Galactica reruns and polishing his shoes on Sunday night.

  He dropped a kiss on her cheek—she smiled through her slumber—and left the bedroom.

  Downstairs Jenny came through the front door as he crossed the foyer.

  “Good morning, Jamison.”

  “Morning, Jenny.”

  “Did you have a good weekend?”

  “We did. And you?”

  “Pretty good myself. Anything in particular you’d like me to do today?”

  He cast a glance up the stairs. “Check with Meg when she gets up, please.”

  “No problem.”

  He continued on to the study. Jenny would go about cleaning the house or doing the laundry or whatever chore she could find until the rest of the house stirred and Meg decided Jenny’s tasks for the day. Thank heavens for Jenny Sanders. Where would they be without her? Surrounded by piles of dirty laundry and dishes.

  His shoes lay right where he’d left them and he managed to get them on in a matter of minutes. With one last thought to the wish of staying home all day, he walked through the kitchen and out the garage door.

  At the end of the driveway, it occurred to him he hadn’t grabbed any coffee. This did not bode well for the day. The mountain of paperwork awaiting his attention required caffeinated sustenance. Attempting to conquer such a Mount Everest of paper without caffeine would be worse than leaving on a road trip to Mexico with no gas.

  He could run to Clay’s, but Greenfield wasn’t that far away and he should do the polite thing and let Karen know he wouldn’t be coming around much anymore. He hadn’t talked about Meg much with Ka
ren—enough to let her know he had a wife and they had hit a rough patch. Karen didn’t need to know anything else. Their discussions were blissfully free of anything requiring hard thought or negative feeling. Instead they talked about movies they’d seen or places they’d visited or exotic lands they wanted to see.

  Before he realized he had fully made up his mind, he found himself steering the car toward the Greenfield Highway. Arguments competed in his brain the entire way there. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just going to get some coffee. Sure, he could have turned around in the driveway and gone back inside for some, but that ran the risk of waking up the kids, which would force Meg out of bed and he didn’t want to do that to her.

  That didn’t rule out Clay’s as an option, but Clay would want to talk about how Meg was or something and Jamison didn’t feel like having that kind of conversation right now. No need to jinx the fabulous situation at home by talking about it.

  That left Wimpy’s as the coffee place of choice so, really, he had no other option. He wasn’t going specifically to see Karen, though telling her his marriage had come out of the rough patch was the right thing to do. He’d complained a bit to Karen about Meg, feeling guilty at the time. Now he could make that right by telling Karen they’d pulled out of it.

  Thankfully the drive only took a few minutes and before he could become completely schizophrenic he parked the car and headed for the door. A quick nod to the old timers on the porch and he was inside, taking “his” spot at the last stool by the counter.

  Karen came through the kitchen. He noted the way her eyes lit up when she saw him there and felt a sharp pang of loss. He soothed it with the image of Meg’s smile this morning.

  “Good morning, Jay.” She poured his coffee and rested a hip against the counter. “Big plans for the day?”

  “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Numbers to crunch and all that jazz.” He’d told her what he did for a living, just not that he owned the firm.

  She smiled sympathetically. “Long day in front of you?”

  “Judging by the mountain of paper I left stacked on my desk on Friday, yes. Unless some paper fairy came in during the weekend and magically made it all disappear.”