“When it comes to certain things, it makes a big difference. If she was just looking to someone else for what she needed to hear from you—”
“Jon, if you’re getting to the part where you tell me to go find my wife, bring her home, and make it work—save your breath.”
“What are you going to do then?” Jonathan asked, finishing off the last of his beer.
“I’m going into town tomorrow, and with the last of my savings, instead of buying an electric refrigerator, I’m filing for divorce.”
Speaking the words aloud jolted him as much as they did Jonathan.
Jonathan rolled the bottle between his hands for a moment.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait a while before you make that decision?”
“Why wait?” he asked as he took Jonathan’s empty bottle and replaced it with a new one.
“What about the kids?” Jonathan asked.
“I’ve already talked to Maura. She’s going to come by and help me during the day.”
“What did she have to say about all this?”
“For the first time, nothing much. She listened. It seemed to make her sad. She offered her help before I could ask. Typical Maura. I know she went out looking for Arianna after I left.”
Jonathan dared to smirk. “I almost feel sorry for her if Maura finds her.”
“I don’t,” Caleb said. “She deserves everything Maura has to give plus some.”
He rose suddenly and pushed open the back door. Jonathan followed and dropped himself down on the porch swing next to Caleb.
“Maura will help until I can afford to hire someone. That’s the only good thing about everybody being broke—people are willing to work for next to nothing. Eventually, I’ll meet someone new and remarry.”
Jonathan didn’t like hearing any of this. He didn’t like the finality in Caleb’s voice and knew that even if Arianna crawled up the driveway on her hands and knees, begging for forgiveness, in his present mood, Caleb wouldn’t.
“If I can help at all, let me know,” Jonathan said.
“Aryl doesn’t know she’s gone. You can tell him he was right.”
Nothing could be done to fix this, at least not right now. Jonathan’s thoughts came back full circle to his own concerns.
“Did Arianna tell you that they were getting together at Ruth’s on Friday nights?”
“Yes.”
“I saw Ruth today. She said that they haven’t been.”
“Like an idiot, I believed her,” Caleb said with a huff.
Jonathan stared straight ahead. “Well, my friend, you’re not the only idiot.” His concern morphed into anger. “Because Ava told me the same thing.”
***
When Jonathan came home, the sky had further darkened. An afternoon storm wasted no time moving in. He said nothing. He barely acknowledged Jean’s warm welcome and he said nothing to Ava.
Upstairs, he changed clothes and silently went outside to work on the Tourer. It was choking and he needed to figure out why. Ava watched him, his deep-set frown, the way his shoulders were taut, pulled back. His eyes avoided her completely. Dread washed over her. She wondered just how much he knew.
***
Dinner was tense and quiet. Even Amy didn’t smile and whisper as she normally did. Ava had no appetite; she picked at her food, waiting for it all to come down. She wished he’d hurry. Every minute was growing more miserable.
Finally, after the children were finished, he said something.
“Jean, Eddie, take your sister in the living room and turn on the radio.”
Jean slid down, pulled Amy from her chair, and hoisted her up on his chest. With a concerned glance at his parents, he did as he was told, Eddie following close behind.
Amy babbled, Eddie whispered to her softly, and they heard the radio turn on.
Jonathan took his time saying anything. But he wouldn’t shrink away from it as Caleb had. The tremendous effort to stay calm was obvious.
“What’s his name?” Jonathan growled, eyes glaring hard at the table.
Ava sat back and crossed her arms. “Josh.”
He swallowed hard, his jaw flexed.
“Where does he live?”
“I—I don’t know. What does it matter?”
“I need to know where he lives.”
“Why?” she asked in a flat tone.
His eyes flashed up. “So I can kill him,” he seethed.
Her mouth hung open for a moment, and she was trapped in his furious stare.
“There’s no need to kill anyone,” she said. She would have laughed if she didn’t find his eyes so disturbing.
“There’s not?” he asked darkly. “I’m supposed to just let this go on?”
“It’s not your place to do anything about it,” she said gently.
“The hell it’s not!”
“I know you’re Caleb’s friend. But it’s up to him to deal with this.”
“Why would I let Caleb deal with the man who’s having an affair with my wife?!”
She stared blankly. Then her eyes flashed wide.
“You think I’m—”
“I was at Ruth’s today and found out you haven’t been going to her house every Friday night like you said.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, dropping her eyes. This wasn’t something she expected. Taking part in Arianna’s antics, yes. But not this. She’d covered her tracks so well. She’d made sure not to tell a single soul since none of the souls around her could keep a secret to save their lives. But she’d forgotten to talk to Ruth.
“And you think…” She paused, trying to find a thread to begin unwinding this tangled misunderstanding.
“I am not having an affair,” she said, looking him in the eyes.
“Then who is Josh?” he asked and looked as if he might rocket out of the chair at the mention of his name.
“He is…” She huffed, let her eyes wander all around, and then went ahead with it. “He is who Arianna is seeing secretly. Although it’s not much of a secret now.”
His face fell in shock.
“You knew about that?”
“Only recently.” She wouldn’t lie if he asked, but she wasn’t going to offer anything else that might make this situation worse. As it was, she had to come clean about the Friday nights. She doubted she’d get so lucky as after the girl’s night where he was distracted and didn’t press the issue.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He was still angry, but not on the verge of exploding.
“She asked me not to. I thought it would be short lived. She’d get it out of her system, go home, and behave.”
“When have you ever known Arianna to do that willingly?”
She shrugged without an answer.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I might have helped prevent what happened if I had known.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“She didn’t run it out of her system and go home. Caleb caught her last night. He threw her out.”
Ava’s eyes went wide. “Where is she now?”
“No one knows.”
“Jon, we can’t just let her wander—”
“Oh, now it’s time to do something?” he asked mockingly. “He said Aryl told him. Did you share your secret with Claire?”
She nodded. He bristled. “But not me.”
They both sat in angry silence through several radio commercials. When the normal programming resumed, it was louder and he continued.
“That doesn’t explain where you’ve been. Or why you lied to me.” He folded his arms, waiting.
“You’re going to be angry,” she said softly.
“As if I’m not already,” he replied tersely.
She rose, went to the cupboard, and pulled out a small tin. She placed it in front of him before she sat down. “Open it.”
He did and was surprised to find money.
“There’s eleven dollars and seventy-eight cents.”
“Where did you
get it?” he asked warily.
“I’ve earned it.”
“How?” He closed the tin, pushed it away, and watched her carefully.
“A most unlikely place.”
“I’m waiting,” he said though he didn’t appear to be patient about it.
“I should probably just start at the beginning.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose it all started with the girl’s night.”
She went on to tell him about the club, Arianna reincarnating to her former glory and bringing Maura in to help them in the end. He looked neither amused nor entertained at the recount of the evening, or the fact that she’d kept it all from him.
“It was a few days later that someone came to the door. Come to find out, she was the owner of the club. She’d seen me that night and came to offer me a job.”
“How did she find you?”
“I have no idea.”
“What job?” he asked warily.
“In the… area of entertainment.”
His face hardened. “You mean she offered you a position as a whore?”
“No,” she said quickly. “One of the women who runs around, glamming the place up, interacting with guests. There’s no prostitution involved. These women dress beautifully and make the rounds, making sure guests are having a good time.”
“I know exactly what you’re talking about, and the feminine decorations these places employ aren’t as innocent as that. Eventually, they end up in bed for the money and the house gets a cut.” He shoved a hand through his hair. Sometimes her naivety infuriated him. “And you’ve been doing this?” Suddenly, he didn’t look any less angry as when he thought she was cheating. Before she could answer, he barked, “Well, not anymore. This woman can find someone else to entertain her guests.”
“No, I haven’t been doing that,” Ava snapped.
“Then what have you been doing, if not that? Or worse.”
She stiffened at his insinuation; her anger rose up and matched his.
“Are you implying—”
“No, I’m not,” he snapped. “What is it then? Waiting tables? Parking cars? Cleaning up after hours?”
None of these suggestions helped improve her disposition.
She sat tall. “Singing.”
He stared, not comprehending.
“I can sing.”
“If you can, how did I not know that?” he asked, feeling as if reality was anything but.
“I’ve hidden it. I’ve always hidden it. I used to sing with my aunt. She had a beautiful voice. She helped me develop mine.”
“Ava, I’ve never heard you sing a note.”
“My cousins would make fun of me. I grew self-conscious, and I’d only sing when I was alone. It became a habit.”
“And then one day you just decided to jump onto the stage at this club?” he asked.
“No. The woman who owns the club, Jenny, when she came here, she heard me through the window. I was singing to Amy, trying to get her to sleep.”
“And she thought you were good enough to offer you a job?”
“She did,” Ava said, drawing herself tall.
He glanced at the tin and back up to her.
“Who else knows about this?”
“No one.”
The shock of this news as well as the extra money waned, and he fell into deep concern. “Even if you’re just singing, it’s not a safe place for you, especially alone.”
“It’s been fine,” she said. “Jenny has someone looking out for me all the time.”
He shook his head. “It’s an illegal speakeasy, Ava.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “And they’re everywhere.”
“It’s only a matter of time before they’re busted like all the rest. It’s not like before where we’d go and drink and dance. There are bad things that congregate in those houses.”
“Jenny runs a decent place. Even Claire said she was picturing a broken down shack with two rickety tables and a few drunks passed out in the corner. It’s nothing like that. It’s not as nice as the places we used to go, but they’re trying.”
He looked as if he’d relent. Looked thoughtful and, thankfully, not as angry.
“I don’t like it,” he said, looking up at her. “It’s not safe.”
“Jonathan, we need this. I’ve made enough money in three nights to outfit the children with winter coats!”
He glanced at the tin again. “You have and that is appreciated. But I’ll not have you risking yourself to do it. Providing is my job.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me I can’t work anymore?” Her words were posed as a question with so much more laced in.
He was never one to order his wife to do or not do anything. It just wasn’t something that he was comfortable with—until now. In an effort to preserve what was left of the evening, he worded his sentence carefully, too.
“I’m telling you I’m worried about your safety, and I would be more comfortable if you stopped,” he said, positioning himself as he would in a business deal.
“I see,” she said, mimicking his posture. “And what if I told you I didn’t want to quit?”
“I would ask you to try to see things from my position.”
She smiled sweetly, reached across the table, and took his hand. “I see your position and hear your concerns,” she said. He relaxed in his chair. “But I’m not quitting.”
It was getting late. The sun was setting, and the children would need to be put to bed soon. It was only Sunday. He had all week to talk her out of going and was confident he could do so.
Right now, she was ready to fight for what she wanted, and he was too exhausted to meet the challenge. Stewing on the idea that your wife was having an affair took a lot out of a person. For now, he’d be grateful she wasn’t and then change the subject.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” he asked, almost in jest. “Might as well get it all out now.”
“Claire is pregnant, wants an abortion, and Aryl is fit to be tied,” she said almost casually. “I think that’s the last of what everyone’s been hiding.”
After absorbing the news about Claire, it all made sense. Aryl had worked harder and faster today than he’d ever seen. At first, Jonathan thought he just wanted to get the day over with. Now he understood the smoking, brooding, the anger fueling that shovel. He’d make a point to talk to him tomorrow on the boat, try to find segue in the conversation to get him to open up. Oh, he knew how. Ava working in a dangerous place behind his back. He’d share first and Aryl was sure to follow.
He sat back and put his hands on his head as thunder rumbled over the house.
“It’s turning out to be one hell of a summer.”
***
Arianna’s back and feet ached. She adjusted on the bench, ignoring the warm rain as it started to fall, and stared down the empty tracks.
“Déjà vu,” she whispered.
The small station was sparsely populated; more people would be getting off the train, heading home for the night rather than boarding it. She had thought of going to Maura’s, but she’d get a lecture laced with curse words, possibly even a few swats on the side of the head. That was expected. Maura would send her home to make amends. But she hadn’t seen the look in Caleb’s eyes.
More times than she could count, she’d made him angry. Done stupid, childish things in her wild days, and every single time, he forgave her. Even the night she’d drank so much, she didn’t remember bursting into the card room of whatever house they were partying at, and starting a strip tease… even then, he hadn’t been this angry. The next day, he was falling all over himself to take care of her.
The Caleb that stood in front of her this morning was a different man. His changing must have been gradual because she hadn’t noticed it. Of course, she hadn’t noticed much between Ethel’s fits, the children’s needs, and her newfound freedom.
She’d walked around town all day until her bag felt like an iron weight, contemplating what to do. She
couldn’t go to Ava or Claire’s homes. Jonathan and Aryl would side with Caleb and never let her in. She thought she’d crumble if another door were slammed in her face. She could go to Ruth’s and almost did. But what would she do there? Sit in Ruth’s beautiful house and get fat eating pastries all day? She had no way to support herself. Planning a party would only buy so much charity.
She thought about going home after giving Caleb the day to cool off. Something in her gut told her that it would take much more than a single day.
She had just enough in her purse for a ticket, and when she thought of her babies, she couldn’t help but cry. She wouldn’t stay gone long, she promised herself. She’d write to Caleb. They’d work this out through letters, and she’d return home.
That was her hope, anyway.
The whistle blew loud as it rounded the final corner and came into view.
Episode Six
Purge
Arianna woke in the night to a child crying. She sat bolt upright, calling Savrene’s name. It took mere seconds for her to realize she wasn’t in her own bed and it wasn’t Savrene crying. It was Roan.
She was on Shannon and Patrick’s sofa. She caught her breath, looking around in the dark. It was stifling hot. She heard Shannon open her bedroom door and go into the children’s room to soothe him.
She fell back on her pillow, kicked off the sheet that was clinging to her legs, and draped an arm over her eyes.
She tried not to think. The empty silence made that all but impossible. It had been three days. She’d start a letter to Caleb when the sun came up, and by the time she went over it, worded it just right, and mailed it, it will have been a week. Surely, he would be over the worst of his anger by then, and if not, at least drowning in enough housework and childcare that he’d consider letting her come home for that reason alone.
After a late breakfast, she sat down with pen and paper while Shannon bustled around. Patrick had taken the children out to the park and for ice cream after. Shannon used this time to get caught up on things and get a moment’s peace. Both women were grateful for the quiet.
Arianna needed to word this just right if she had any hope of getting home soon. She had to appear sorry, but not groveling. She was never one to grovel. She wouldn’t be unnecessarily cold or overly loving. Caleb was practical. He’d appreciate that in a letter.
Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 13