Perfect Piece

by Rebeca Seitz

  He picked up his fork. “Famished.”

  “Dig in, then. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here making plans.”

  He smiled and picked up the saltshaker.

  Half an hour later, with a belly full of good food and a heart full of good feelings, he left the diner and headed to work. He should have been starting all his mornings like this. It was just bad timing that he’d found Wimpy’s when Meg was in the middle of her recovery. If he’d been coming here before the surgery, it probably wouldn’t even be an issue to worry about.

  He sighed. Timing. Just his rotten luck that he’d stumbled upon Wimpy’s during the darkest days of his marriage. Because he still would have enjoyed the place if he’d found it years ago. He felt pretty sure of that. He might not have hit it off so quickly with Karen. Before the surgery he didn’t know any other women existed on the planet except Meg, his mother, and the sisters. He would have known her, and Meg would probably have known her, and it’d be no big deal.

  Ugh. Timing.

  His cell phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. Meg. He debated answering it, then decided she’d just call the office if he didn’t and she’d know he wasn’t there yet. He pressed the button to take the call.

  “Good morning.”

  “And good morning to you. You at work yet?”

  His guard went up. Was she checking up on him? “Almost there. Why?”

  “Just wondering. I’m going to the grocery store this morning and wondered if you had anything you wanted to add to the list but didn’t want to interrupt if you’d already gotten that head of yours into the numbers.”

  He relaxed. “Oh, nope, I’m numbers-free right now except for the stock report on the radio.”

  “So?”

  “So, what?”

  “Anything to add to the grocery list?”

  “Oh. Um, nope. Whatever you think.”

  “Okay, then. You all right?”

  “Of course.”

  “You sure? You sound funny.”

  He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, just have a lot on my mind. Monday morning, you know.”

  “Well, then I’ll let you go get to it. Have a great day.”

  “You, too.” He ended the call and ran a hand through his hair. The boulder of guilt settling on his chest finally convinced him.

  Going to Wimpy’s either had to stop or he had to make sure Meg was okay with it. He had enough going on in his life without feeling guilty about where he ate breakfast.

  Of course, he wouldn’t feel this guilty if Jack hadn’t preached that sermon. But Meg had heard the sermon and hadn’t disagreed with it. At least she hadn’t said that she disagreed with it, so he had to assume she agreed. He still thought going to Wimpy’s was fine—he hadn’t broken any vows or cheated on Meg. He would never be the kind of man who could cheat on his wife.

  Then why did the sermon yesterday make you feel like that kind of man?

  He pushed the bothersome question aside and made his way back out to the car. It wasn’t long before he parked in the office lot and grabbed his briefcase. Time to put all this from his mind and focus on the day’s work. His clients certainly didn’t care where he ate breakfast. They only wanted their finances handled with intelligence and efficiency. Shoving Meg and Karen and the whole mess into the back of his mind, he resolved to give the clients what they paid for.

  An hour later Jamison sat staring at his computer screen.

  Every time he tried to bury himself in the numbers—a safe haven he’d counted on for years—thoughts of Meg and Karen kept bobbing to the surface. He’d no sooner make one calculation than he began calculating the costs of talking this over with Meg or of not ever going back to Wimpy’s.

  Sighing, he focused again on the computer screen and tried to figure out Walter Prescott’s quarter earnings. Prescott had a board meeting in one week and needed these numbers a week ago to prepare. His phone call that morning left no doubt in Jamison’s mind that another firm would get Prescott’s business if Jamison didn’t have a report finished by the end of the day.

  Jamison stuck his pencil behind his ear and tapped keys on the keyboard. Creating quarterly reports didn’t even require his entire brain, he’d been doing them so long. He could finish this one in no time and then have the afternoon free to—

  His fingers froze over the keyboard.

  To what? Think about Karen? Meg? Since when did he take time off of work to worry over his personal life? Other than the month after Meg’s surgery, he’d been as constant at the office as daylight was each morning. What had happened to his staunch commitment to the clients?

  He shook his head. The fact that Prescott had even felt the need to call and ask about the status of his reports ought to have been a wake-up call. Jamison was losing his edge here. Get in the game, man. Focus.

  Karen’s smiling face appeared in his mind’s eye and, for a moment, he let himself forget the numbers to enjoy it. Then he shoved it away and buckled down. This report had to get done, and he’d quit before he let a client down.

  * * *

  MEG RAN MOUSSE through her wet hair and scrunched it between her fingers. The brochures had warned her not to expect the hair she’d had before surgery, but she’d hoped they were wrong. If the inch-and-a-half growth on her head was any indication, her thick, strong hair had decided to make a comeback. Which was a great thing since her husband was obsessed with a waitress who had her hair. Or hair that looked like hers. Or something like that.

  She shook her head. Thick hair that hung past her shoulders had been one thing. This short do was quite another thing entirely. How did Zelda do this every day? Short hair didn’t let itself be thrown up in a ponytail and forgotten on errand day. No, it had to be styled if the wearer had any plans to go out in public.

  She sighed and scrunched some more until her hair resembled something close to a do. Good enough.

  Grabbing her Kabuki brush, she applied powder, then a touch of eye shadow and mascara. Now she looked presentable. Not as good as the diner woman, but she doubted that woman had been through brain surgery lately. No wonder she’d turned Jamison’s head. No doubt, she’d been turning it just this morning. That would explain why Jamison hadn’t been at the office when Meg called.

  A quick glance at the small quartz clock on her vanity told her she hadn’t a moment to spare worrying about her husband’s devotions. Kendra would be here any minute to watch the kids and free Meg up to go grocery shopping.

  Meg didn’t understand the thrill she felt at undertaking the mundane task of shopping for groceries except that it resembled a return to her normal life. An assuming of tasks that she competently handled before the surgery.

  Finding humor in her own enthusiasm over a grocery list, she went downstairs to see if the movie she’d plopped the kids in front of had reached an end.

  She heard Bob the Tomato’s voice saying, “So you see, kids,” and knew she’d come in the last two minutes of wrap-up. How did parents get anything done before VeggieTales?

  She came around the corner and stopped at the sight of Kendra sitting in the middle of the couch with kids on either side of her. “Hey, I didn’t know you’d gotten here.”

  “Figured you were upstairs putting your face on, so I came in here with the kids.”

  “You figured right. Do I look okay?”

  “You look great. Think the leg will hold out?”

  Meg knocked on her thigh. “Feels good so far.”

  “Okay, call me if you need me.”

  Meg would have turned to go, but this whole idea of Jamison falling for another woman had her so rattled that she stopped.

  Kendra looked up. “Something you forgot?”

  “Can you come in the kitchen a second?”

  “Sure.” Kendra gently tipped Hannah off her leg and stood.

  Meg turned and walked ahead of Kendra into the kitchen, wondering if she shouldn’t let the whole thing go. All she’d seen was Jamison talking to a waitre
ss. And, of course, a good suspicion that he’d been back there this morning. Why would he still be going there when things were going so well between them? What allure did the woman have? What hold over him?

  She came into the kitchen and turned to face her sister. “Something happened on Saturday when we were out with Zelda.”

  “I knew it!” Kendra snapped her fingers. “For the record, I didn’t buy your headache story. You were acting weird.”

  “Wives do that when they see their husbands flirting with other women.”

  Kendra froze, her eyes going as wide as a full moon on a harvest night. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t make me say it again.”

  Kendra blinked. “Jamison? Jamison was flirting with another woman? Who? Where? You saw him?”

  “You know the diner in Greenfield? In the main part of town? Same diner I found the receipt from a few days ago in his pants pocket?”

  “Yeah, Whompy’s or something like that.”

  “Wimpy’s.”

  “Okay.”

  “He was there, drinking coffee and eating breakfast again, except this time I figured out he’s not going there for the good hash browns. You should have seen her, Ken.” Meg paced the floor. “She had hair like me and looked like me and he sat there on that stupid red stool just staring up at her like she’d hung the sun, moon, and stars.”

  “Tell me you dumped his coffee on him. His eggs, at least.”

  “He doesn’t even know I saw him.”

  “Girl, you better be kidding me. You saw your husband flirting with another woman and you did nothing?”

  Meg threw her hands up. “What was I supposed to do? It wasn’t exactly a situation I had prepared for and I panicked. I left so I could think.”

  Kendra crossed her arms. “I can’t believe I slept through all this.”

  “Me, either. Remind me to call and wake you up the next time we’re under a tornado warning. You’d sleep right through the thing.”

  “I have a weather radio. Wakes me right up.”

  “Fabulous. Can we get back to the main issue here, please?”

  “Right, right. Sorry. Okay, so this was four days ago. You haven’t said anything since?”

  Meg shook her head, more miserable by the minute.

  “Not a word? Not even a mean look?”

  “No. And believe me, I should get a Grammy for my performance.”

  “An Oscar. Grammy Awards are for music.”

  “Kendra! Focus!”

  Kendra winced. “Sorry again.” She thought a minute. “I guess this explains Daddy’s sermon Sunday.”

  “You think Zelda said something to him?”

  “I think that’s one weird coincidence if she didn’t.”

  Meg looked at the ceiling and paced some more. “Great. So now Daddy knows. I can’t believe he hasn’t come over here and yanked a knot in Jamison’s tail himself.”

  “You sure he didn’t?”

  “I’m sure I’d know if he had.”

  “Good point. So, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know! Do you think I should even be upset? I mean, all Jamison did was talk with the woman. It’s not like he’s having an affair or anything.”

  Kendra’s face hardened. “It starts with words. Trust me on that.”

  Too late Meg remembered Kendra’s bout with a married man before settling down with Darin. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry to bring that up.”

  “Don’t sweat it, really. It’s in the past. But learn from someone who’s been there and never use the phrase, ‘It’s only words.’”

  Meg nodded, biting her lip. “So you think I should be worried.”

  “I think if I saw Darin talking it up with some girl and he hid it from me, he’d come home to a couch with a sheet and pillow on it.”

  Meg fell into one of the chairs and dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, Ken. I don’t think I have the strength left in me to deal with this. I just want to pretend it’s not happening.”

  She heard Kendra’s Keds squeak on the tile as she crossed the kitchen, then felt her sister’s hand on her head. “I know, Meg. I know. I wish I could fix it for you.”

  Meg let the comfort of Kendra’s hand seep into her. It was a gesture they’d all seen Momma do time and time again when life dealt a devastating blow. Meg wanted her Momma more than anything right now. Momma would know what to say, what to do.

  Daddy would, too, but it wouldn’t be the same. A girl needed her momma when her husband acted the part of a jerk.

  Meg sniffed and lifted her head. The understanding in Kendra’s eyes nearly did her in. “Thanks, Ken.”

  “I didn’t do anything but have homicidal thoughts.”

  “If I need to move the body, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll get to work on escape plans.”

  Meg managed a smile and stood. “I better get to the grocery store before this leg decides it’s done for the day.”

  Kendra’s arms came around her and Meg leaned into her sister’s strength. “No matter what happens, Meg, you’ve got the sisters.”

  Meg swallowed and took a deep breath. Women had gotten through worse with a whole lot less.

  * * *

  JAMISON TYPED THE final word on Prescott’s report and pressed the button to save and print the document. He heaved a sigh as he sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. Time to admit the truth that stared him in the face and dogged his thoughts for the past six hours.

  He had a problem.

  And its name was Karen.

  How he’d gotten to this point he wasn’t quite sure. Just realizing he’d gotten here left him bumfuzzled. He felt like he’d just roused from a bad dream. Like someone had draped gray netting over his eyes for the past three months.

  Now, having taken six hours to do a report that normally took two, the netting had been whisked away. And he was left with a clear image of the truth of what was, yet a murky path to having gotten there.

  He ran a hand down his face to wipe away the residual grogginess. Opened eyes didn’t necessarily mean a clear path lay at his feet. He couldn’t exactly go home and declare, “Hi, honey! I’ve been driving to Greenfield several times a week to talk to a woman who reminds me of you.”

  He’d sound like a lunatic.

  At the same time, honesty had always served as a cornerstone of his marriage. Even when the truth hurt or would cause an argument, he and Meg gave each other the gift of honesty, no matter what.

  Until now.

  He couldn’t hide this from Meg any longer. She needed to know he’d shared—what? Friendship? Conversation? Interest?

  As the printer behind him hummed and spit out Prescott’s report, Jamison thought back to Jack’s sermon. It didn’t take him long to put his finger on the exact point he’d gone wrong.

  He’d allowed Karen to meet a need only Meg had the right to meet. The need for conversation, for understanding, for entertainment, for laughter, for the ability to feel liked and wanted. For a sense of being connected to someone.

  For emotional intimacy.

  He’d turned to Karen for those things when only Meg should be given that right. But knowing what to confess didn’t make him rush from his chair to the car. As much as he needed to make this right with Meg—and he needed that like a dying man needed oxygen—he had to have a plan. Without it, he’d go blundering in and hurt her even more in the process of confessing than he did in committing.

  At a complete loss, he raked his hand through his hair again and cast about for ideas—any ideas—to present his stupidity to Meg.

  Okay, start with the fact that you’re an idiot. She knows that already, but it might help for her to know that you know it, too.

  He jerked open the desk drawer and snatched up a pad of paper. If ever the time for a list had existed, this was it.

  1. I’m stupid.

  Tapping the pencil on the notepad, he thought some more. Focus on her? On the fact that he loved her? Since she’d do
ubt that after his confession, it was probably something he should reiterate up front.

  2. I love Meg.

  Okay, there. He had two steps. He could do this. He pushed off from the carpet and turned circles in his desk chair. Try as he might, he couldn’t get to step three. Ridiculous. He could make an utter mess of his personal life, but he had barely a clue how to clean it up. He was as bad as Hannah with her Barbies.

  Worse, really, since Hannah knew where her Barbies belonged.

  Recognizing desperation, he thought about calling one of the guys. Did any of them have any experience with this sort of thing? Darin! Not only had his first wife left him for another man, but Kendra had been seeing a married man before she married Darin.

  If any of the guys could help him, it was Darin. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, man, you got a second?”

  “Sure. Everything okay? You sound panicked.”

  “I am, but I think I can make it okay.”

  “Make it okay? What’d you do?”

  “Why do you think I did something?”

  “Because Meg’s still in the free-pass zone. She can do stuff, but it falls under brain-surgery recovery and she can’t be held accountable. You, on the other hand, can be held accountable all day long. What’d you do?”

  Jamison sucked in a very deep breath and took the plunge. “I got too close to a woman other than Meg.”

  Silence greeted his confession. So that wouldn’t be the way to go with Meg. Okay.

  “Darin? You still there?”

  “I’m here.” No missing the hard edge in his friend’s tone. “And you’re calling me for what?”

  “Because I don’t know how to tell Meg without hurting her any more than she’s already going to be hurt.”

  “Why tell her at all?”

  “Because I’m not going to hide things from her. Not any longer. That’s what got me in this mess. If I’d been honest with her from the start, I’d have stopped things with Karen a long time ago.”

  More seconds of silence ticked by. Maybe Darin’s wounds were still too raw. “Look, man, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry to bring this kind of stuff into your life again—”

  Darin’s long sigh made him sputter to a stop. “Naw, don’t worry about it. Guess it’s just my lot in life to help folks through it.” He sounded weary. “What kind of plan you got so far?”