The Storm (Fairhope)

by Laura Lexington

  I punched in my access code and stepped inside, cautious as a cat stalking a mouse. Without a peep, I peered to the right where Brooke’s unit was, noticing we were alone.

  Her unit still locked, she leaned against it with her head tucked between her knees, shaking slightly. She was crying. To my surprise, my heart tugged a little at the sight of her.

  As the tilt of her head allowed me to glimpse her face, I could see she was absolutely, completely distraught.

  The foreign desire to hug her hit me like a ton of bricks. I was baffled at my unexpected emotion because hugging her was the last thing on Earth I would have imagined wanting to do. Hit her, slap her, kick her—those were the images that usually played out in the movies in my mind. “Brooke?” I was tentative, nervous.

  What the hell are you thinking? Stalking was Andrew and Grace’s arena, not mine. I fought the urge to bolt.

  My footsteps echoed between her sobs. Wordlessly, speaking only with her eyes, she told me I was the last person she wanted to see. Silently, I told her I understood because she was the last person I wanted to see in Gambino’s.

  Well, maybe the next-to-last person I wanted to see … Jeff won the number one spot on that list.

  “Go ahead, Jana. Ask me what’s wrong. Ask me whatever you want.” A bitter laugh accentuated her pause. “I made him meet me in Fairhope because I thought we wouldn’t see anyone. I forget you live here, too.”

  That was not what I was expecting to hear. Go away, bitch? Maybe. But not that.

  I sighed and walked over to her. “I-I … don’t know what to say.” I don’t even know why I followed you here, other than I’m a bored, nosy housewife who was happy to see trouble in paradise for you two, but now I feel bad about it. “I was just, um, coming to get some of my clothes out of our unit…”

  She waved her hand dismissively, obviously not caring what excuse I had for being there. “You think I’m a whore, Jana. But it’s not that simple.” Sniffling, she reached into her purse to silence her iPhone.

  Shocked is a tame word for my facial expression when I realized this conversation was about to happen.

  She continued, “I fell head over heels in love with Jeff. The attraction was mutual. Danny had already filed for divorce after he found ‘the love of his life’ in a bar in Mobile. Well, I thought I’d found mine, too.”

  I think she wanted me to say something, but I just stood there, dumbfounded.

  “You know, I wanted your job, but I couldn’t work for him. I buried my feelings and tried to resist him, but I couldn’t. He told me he loved me and not his wife, but could not leave his family.” She paused. “Before you roll your eyes, I know married men usually don’t leave their wives for their mistresses. But…” She couldn’t control the tears anymore. “…my husband left me for his.”

  “I am sorry you are hurt, Brooke.” She may have deserved it, but she was still pitiful.

  “I should have never returned his first call. I’m not a dumb woman; I know affairs never end well.” She blew her nose with the tissue I handed her. “I have no idea why I am telling you all of this. You hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.” All of a sudden, I didn’t. My feelings certainly weren’t affectionate, but I didn’t hate her. In front of me, I saw more than a home-wrecking slut; I saw a heartbroken woman. Much to my chagrin, I actually pitied her.

  “I got fed up with being his piece of ass on the side. I realized how much I loved him when we almost got caught a few weeks ago. I saw what I really was to him … in a fit of rage, he told me he would never leave her. Apparently, he just wanted to taste something younger.”

  You just now realized that? He’s seventeen years your senior, and you didn’t think you were his mid-life crisis? I pinched myself and told myself to be nice.

  I sat down beside her, wondering if I should loop my arm around her shoulder. The moment of silence we shared was strangely not uncomfortable.

  I broke the quietness. “Brooke, what you did was horrible, but you don’t deserve to be treated that way.” Was I seriously comforting Brooke Bennett? I thought about pinching myself again to see if it was real. What the hell had gotten into me?

  “I know it was wrong.” Her voice was steady. “I know how it feels to be cheated on, and I did it anyway. I feel like I deserve this. I thought about telling his wife, because I know I was relieved to finally find out the truth, but then…” Tears cascaded in waterfalls down her cheeks again. “I see their family Facebook picture, those two beautiful girls, and I couldn’t do it. I’m walking away, which is what brings me here.”

  It dawned on me exactly what she was doing. “You’re quitting.”

  “Yes, Jana. I put in my notice to my boss today, and told Jeff at lunch. My boss was pissed and told me to clear my things. I start with Medtronic in a month.” She smiled at me, the first genuine smile I’d ever seen from her—the kind that reaches the eyes. “I’m happy. I need a new start.”

  “It sounds like you need one.” I was still in shock. Crap, I was popping my knuckles again, headed straight for a diagnosis of arthritis at, like, thirty-five.

  “Want to know something?” Brooke’s eyes held a sly sparkle.

  I’m not sure. Sudden change of heart about me or not, I was still skeptical of her. “What’s that?”

  Dramatically, she leaned in until I riveted at her breath on my ear. “He could not last more than two minutes. Maximum.”

  Oh, gross. Ugh. That information should have been on a need-to-know basis, and I did not need to know.

  Managing to crack a snicker, I shook my head rapidly to remove images of Jeff and Brooke having bad sex.

  She opened her individual unit and groaned when she saw stacks upon stacks of Covington Company propaganda. “Looks like it will be a long afternoon.” She rolled up her sleeves and faced me as I stood up and dusted off my hands. “Jana, I want to apologize for bringing up Grace last time we were here. I am truly sorry about her death.”

  Any mention of Grace was painful. “Thank you,” I mumbled, dreading the familiar tightening of my throat.

  “A year ago, we both had bright futures at Covington Company.” She laughed bitterly as she looked over a clinical trial. “How quickly things change, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “I know we have never been the best of friends. But I know you did a great job. Your customers loved you, too. I might have been…” she winced, “…just a little jealous because you were Jeff’s pick for the job.” For the first time, I witnessed embarrassment blush her cheeks.

  Wow. Were these words coming from the mouth of the “viper”?

  She kept talking. “I apologize for not taking up for you to Jeff. Jana, I hope we can start over. It’s a small world, and I don’t want any enemies.” Tentatively, she took one step in my direction.

  Forgive her.

  “I accept your apology.” She edged toward me as if she wanted a hug, but I wasn’t exactly ready to kiss and make up.

  “Listen, I know I have been a bitch to you, and it hit me that we really don’t know each other. Grace and I were too much alike to be friends.” She paused. “This thing with Jeff made me think about what kind of person I want to be. The stares from other people, the lying … I don’t want to be the ‘that girl’ ever again.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Life is too short, and I’m ready for a change.”

  “Too short,” I agreed. I hoped when the dust settled from her heartbreak, her words would still ring true.

  “I didn’t write the note, Jana.” Her eyes pierced mine. “I would have sued, too, if I were you.”

  I froze, the bad memory resurfacing. “So it was Collin.”

  She nodded. “He didn’t like his shitty behavior being called out. Jeff threw him under the bus after they were both questioned. Collin blamed it all on you.”

  “Bastard,” I muttered. She nodded in agreement.

  Brooke started packing old papers into an empty box. “And Jana?”

  “Yes?” />
  “I will keep in touch, in case Medtronic has an opening and you’re interested.” She bent down to close a crate that overflowed with folders. “One more thing… ”

  She winked at me and grinned. “Good luck with the lawsuit.”

  I still questioned her motives, knowing she was fresh out of a forbidden relationship with the man who set my career afire. “Thanks, Brooke. You know I never asked for any of it.”

  “Oh, I know. You were screwed from day one and completely disposable from the day you got pregnant.” Picking up the box, she walked toward the door as I started toward my unit. “Who knows, Jana … maybe we could be friends one day.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Maybe so, Brooke … if you steer clear of my husband.”

  “NOTHING STAYS THE same except change, Jana.” Mama stroked my hair as I cried softly. “When things are good, treasure life. When things are bad, hold on … change is on its way.”

  I never forgot her words of wisdom. Then, I was a sophomore in college, my heart shredded over a worthless boy and my stress level high because my father stood in the unemployment line. Two months later, “good” change made an entrance; I met Andrew. Over the years, her words consistently proved true.

  The winds of change were coming, ready to deliver me from this storm.

  Cold weather was a prized luxury in Southern Alabama, even if it was December. Dazzling, unexpected snow flurries raised the spirits of Fairhope’s citizens, drifting in town just in time for the annual charity ball. We could not really claim it was “snowing,” but feeling the light flurries on our faces was enough to thrill most of us. However short-lived, any rescue from the blistering sun of our long summers was welcomed.

  The morning of the charity ball, I awakened shortly after the sun. I lingered in bed for an hour, limbs entangled with Andrew’s, staring at him as he slept peacefully with Calla nestled under one arm. I didn’t have to count my blessings to realize how fortunate I was.

  I flipped on my Keurig, my taste buds watering for their daily dose of caffeine. I gazed out the window as the coffee brewed, a smile creeping across my face as I anticipated Calla’s reaction to the picturesque snow flurries.

  My thoughts wandered to the last time I’d made Andrew chocolate chip pancakes as I pulled the ingredients from my cabinets. With a sickening feeling, the nightmare called Covington and the nuisance of toxemia came rushing to the surface. My stomach started to turn.

  No. Those things were over, and I would not revisit them.

  Our bedroom door creaked several minutes later, the sound followed by Andrew dragging himself into the kitchen. “Hey, sweetheart, good morning. What are you doing?” His sexy dimples flashed when he noticed the bag of chocolate chips. “Hmmmmm…”

  I smiled, eyeing his shirtless, muscular midsection, thinking maybe we should go back to bed. “Just cooking my handsome husband his favorite junk breakfast.”

  His strong arms wrapped around my waist, the gesture making me feel safe and loved. He pointed at my batter-streaked hands. “Nothing sexier than a woman who likes getting dirty,” he replied, leaving a trail of suggestive kisses down my neck.

  I made a face. “Ugh. Morning breath.”

  He laughed boyishly and took his chair at our breakfast table. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t want to wake Calla.”

  I listened intently, but the atmosphere was void of adorable blabbering. “Sounds like she’s still out.” I flipped the last pancake. “Breakfast is ready.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Bring on the diabetes!”

  I pranced over to the table, setting his plate in front of him.

  Playfully, he grabbed my breasts and massaged them in his hands. “I think I could take you right here and skip breakfast. Are you ready to make baby number two?”

  Before I could tell him he was nuts, the phone rang. I hurriedly set his plate down and answered it. I expected to hear something from Jack any time now.

  “Hello,” I said.

  My greeting was met with silence on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

  “Is … is this Jana Cook?” Something about the voice sounded familiar.

  “Yes,” I said hesitantly, shooting Andrew a confused look. With a mouth overflowing with pancakes, he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  A bit alarmed, I motioned to Andrew to come closer. “Who is this? About what?”

  “I … uh … I … this is A—”

  Click. Before I could respond, the woman hung up. I pulled away from the phone, confused. We never got prank calls.

  I waited for her to call back, but she didn’t.

  “Well, that was strange,” I told Andrew as I poured a glass of orange juice. “She sounded incredibly familiar and said she needed to talk to me.”

  “Probably just a telemarketer, don’t worry about it.” He dismissed my concern with another huge bite of chocolate chips with a little dough.

  The voice irked me, and I could not shake the air of familiarity. Who would call me and hang up? Was it the press? I gulped at the thought, my nerves awakening.

  I checked the caller ID. Unknown Caller. Had she blocked her call?

  I dismissed my concern. Andrew was right; the woman was likely a telemarketer.

  “Oh. My. Gosh. You are stunning!” Stunning was barely fitting to describe Sadie. She was a knockout in jeans and a t-shirt, but standing under the soft lights in that mint, A-length gown accented with diamond jewelry, she was nothing less than drop dead gorgeous.

  The blush that often accessorized Sadie matched the rosy tint of her hair. “You are too, Jana.” A little nervously, she fingered her clutch. She agreed to be my date for the charity ball when Andrew suddenly came down with food poisoning. The charity ball raised money for different types of children’s cancer, and Andrew’s company strongly encouraged employees to support the cause.

  We wasted no time dipping into the elaborate display of appetizers, but I craved more than food to satiate me. My first real girls’ night, since Calla graced my life with her presence, was not going to waste. My old friend Chardonnay and I would meet again and enjoy a night of passionate reunion. For a hundred bucks a ticket, I might clean out their supply. Sadie, my sweet Baptist friend who kept her drinking hidden behind the Pier 1 curtains in her living room, would learn to live a little if I had anything to do with it.

  Sadie understood my love for Fairhope after spending several teacher holidays here. Single and beautiful, she was the perfect accessory for the charity ball. I hoped her timeless looks would take my lawsuit out of the limelight. So far, it was working. Every single male acquaintance of Andrew’s and mine found an excuse to be in our presence, pining for an introduction to my gorgeous sidekick.

  All except one.

  Gavin was in attendance, but as a performer. This would be his first show since Grace’s death. I knew it would be difficult for him, though my heart smiled to see him fill his life with things he loved again.

  After an awesome cover band from Florida stepped down for a break, hip-hop from my college years hit the air. A mischievous grin spread across my flushed face. I nudged Sadie, whose wine glass was still nearly full. I considered switching her to something like a Sex on the Beach where the liquor was masked by the other flavors. Break her in until a slight glaze masked her eyes…

  “Let’s dance!” I grabbed her arm and steered her to the dance floor.

  She protested, looking down at her sleek formal, as if she were scared of ripping it. “Jana, I’m not the best dancer.”

  “Neither am I,” I lied, tossing back the rest of my wine like it was a cold beer. I spilled a little bit, but the evening gown I borrowed from Jessica was red, and a dry-cleaning would be necessary anyway. “We are a good match. Let’s do this!”

  Within sixty seconds of tipsy floundering around drunken debutantes in tuxes, suits, and formals, we claimed a spot. I closed my eyes and followed the rhythm of the music, my body moving with the skill
I thought I left at the nightclubs in Tuscaloosa. I motioned to Sadie to join in, and after a few minutes of shy effort, she got the hang of it and developed her own technique. As she lost herself in the music, her inhibitions gradually disappearing, I decided it was a good thing I didn’t switch her to liquor or I might have a problem on my hands.

  “You’re a natural!” I shouted over the music. “Not the best dancer, my ass!” Keenly, I observed the throes of bloodshot-eyed men eyeing irresistible Sadie, undressing her with their eyes. I’d survived my teenage years with most of them, and they were unworthy of her conversation, much less her kiss (or anything further). My brow furrowed, thinking I would shield her from their playboy games.

  We danced for nearly half an hour until the lights dimmed, signaling that someone new was taking the stage. Bubbled up happiness welled inside me, spilling out in fits of giggles. I was seriously having a blast. Laughing hysterically, Sadie and I finally stumbled off the dance floor and found chairs neighboring the wine station (in my opinion, the best spot in the room).

  “That was so much fun!” Sadie shrieked, her red mane now wild and untamed. I had succeeded in cracking her timid shell. “This was the break I needed. The stress of teaching can drive you mad.”

  “I bet. One kid can drive me mad. I’m glad you had fun. I needed this night, too.” Grace’s contagious laugh reverberated through my ears, and I felt overcome with physical pain at the memory. I glanced at the friendship bracelet on my wrist and reminded myself that she would want me to have fun.

  “I love the music, Jana. I’ve been helping with the choir at school, and I’m in heaven.” She smiled sweetly as a friend of mine waved at us. “All of the musicians have been great so far.”

  My eyes followed the final act as he took the stage. I whispered in Sadie’s ear, “Wait until you hear this one.”

  The crowd hushed as Gavin adjusted the microphone. A few murmurs floated through the room but quickly ceased as his fantastic voice filled the air. As he belted out the first few notes of Bruno Mars’s “When I Was Your Man,” every heart in the room felt the emotion bleeding through his words. Couples started slow dancing, lost in the romantic ambiance of the night.