“I thought you were…”
“What?” she prompted.
“Okay, look, I thought you were attractive. I still … do.” He swallowed. “I mean, you were standing there in those overalls, looking so cute…”
“Cute?” she said dubiously. “In my overalls?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned self-consciously and took a step toward her. “You look great in them, in fact.”
“In my overalls?” she repeated, incredulous.
He gave her a speculative look. “You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?”
“Apparently not,” she mused distractedly.
To her surprise, he took a step toward her and laced a finger around one of the straps of her overalls. He tugged her forward and stared deeply into her eyes. He saw confusion there, knew he should probably pull back, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. Leaning in, he claimed her lips in a kiss.
***
Marcia attacked her back lawn with a vengeance, taking wide passes with her weed whacker. She needed to do the physical activity, in order to occupy her hands and her brain. Lord knew, she couldn’t seem to quiet her mind.
Over and over, she relived Ethan’s kiss. It was sweet initially—a tentative exploration on his part, but he had deepened the kiss, pressing with a gentle insistence. To both her shock and horror, she had responded to him, matching his urgency until he had finally pulled back, running a hand through his hair, and letting out a breath of air. Finally, he had said simply, “Wow.”
Her sentiments exactly.
Why had he kissed her? she wondered. He’d told her he was attracted to her—specifically, he’d said he found her attractive in her overalls. He’d called her cute. That almost brought a giggle to her lips. Cute? In her overalls? She knew that couldn’t possibly be true.
Jay had detested her overalls, had implored her not to wear them. But she had found them both comfortable and convenient as she had attacked her home improvement projects. The fact was, Jay had never approved of her attire—had criticized her clothing choices at every turn. If she dressed up for a special occasion, he’d inevitably ask that she return to her closet and select something different. If that outfit didn’t please him, the process continued until he would finally select something for her—all the while muttering about her lack of a fashion sense. She couldn’t count the myriad times he had compared her attire to that of other women, often in the company of those women. It had been mortifying.
When she had confronted him, pointing out that his behavior left her hurt and embarrassed, he had simply shrugged away her concerns—calling her overly sensitive. He had gone so far as to tell her she couldn’t discern criticism from a constructive critique—and that as her husband, it was his job to shape and mold her for her own good.
She grimaced, remembering his ongoing commentary about her weight. By all accounts, and every doctor’s chart, she was slim—but never thin enough for Jay.
She brought the weed whacker to a stop, taking in a lung-inflating mouthful of air. Breathing deeply in a continuous rhythm, she attempted to still her pounding heart.
Despite her attempts at self-calming, a wave of anger washed over her—at him, but mostly at herself. Why, why had she remained married to a man who considered it his primary objective to tear her down in order to…? What? What was the reason for his constant verbal attacks?
She felt tears dropping onto her cheeks. She knew why he had wielded his relentless verbal assaults. Because … she had let him.
Chapter Fourteen
Marcia dropped into a lawn chair. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. The yardwork had tired her more than she realized.
Bright sunlight permeated her lids and warmed her face. She could feel her tears drying on her cheeks and knew she probably looked a fright. Oh, well, she thought. A tear-streaked face was a small price to pay for a moment of self-awareness. Or perhaps the better words were—‘ex-husband’ awareness.
Jay was a jerk. Was and is. She had been drawn to a jerk, had married a jerk, and had deferred to a jerk. Even when she knew she was right, she had deferred to him in order to keep peace in the home.
Did that make her a jerk?
Probably.
She sighed as she draped her arm across her face. The sun was simply too bright, despite the fact that her eyes were closed. Inhaling the spring air, she felt herself growing tired. She knew she shouldn’t fall asleep in the sun, but found she wasn’t particularly inclined to leave her place beneath the warming beams. Perhaps because it had been so long since she’d been in the sun, both literally and figuratively, she craved those healing rays.
Honing in on the soft sounds of nature around her, she settled into the lounge chair more comfortably, tipping her head to the side and dropping her arm off her face. She was nearly asleep when she heard Ethan’s voice.
“You’re going to get a sunburn.”
Abruptly, Marcia sat up, glancing around her, and then up, in alarm. Her vision was assaulted by the now brighter sun, and she blinked against it. The piercing rays were suddenly vanquished by Ethan’s form, as he positioned himself in front of her. He smiled into her face, but abruptly frowned. “Hey, are you all right?”
She smiled self-consciously and had yet another epiphany; Ethan was forever inquiring about her well-being. “You ask me that question a lot,” she mused dazedly, struggling to lift her tired body from the chair.
“We need to get you in the shade,” he said, still frowning. “In fact…” He glanced around. “Why don’t I join you?”
Marcia’s foggy mind didn’t register his intent, until he reached behind her and grabbed a hold of another chair. She rose and watched him walk across the lawn and position it beneath an elm tree. He returned and retrieved her chair, placing it beside the other, and fixing it in the sitting, rather than lounging, position.
He dropped into his chair and nodded toward the other one. “Are you going to join me?” he called.
She glanced around uncertainly but finally acquiesced, walking across the lawn to sit down beside him. She turned to him briefly, before glancing away. She knew she looked terrible. She’d been crying, for Pete’s sakes. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” she said. “I should go inside and freshen up.”
She rose to leave, but he gently grasped her arm. “You look fine. Really.” He reached a hand toward her face and scrubbed at her left cheek with his thumb. “There. Perfect.”
She watched him with tentative eyes, and he nodded. “Trust me. You look great.”
She dropped back into the chair, knowing full well she looked anything but great. “Did you need something?” she asked him too cheerfully.
He shook his head. “No. I was working in the back yard and happened to glance over here and it looked like you were sleeping, so…” He shrugged. “I didn’t want you dealing with a bad sunburn later.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” she said, forcing a smile.
“It wasn’t until I got over here that I realized you’d been…”
“What?” she prompted with forced brightness.
He leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on his knees, and he turned toward her. “I saw you’d been crying.”
“I really should go inside,” she said, averting her face. “I’ll be just a minute.”
He reached a hand out and grasped her arm. “You look fine. Really. Were you crying because I…?” He winced. “Because I kissed you earlier.”
Marcia looked startled. “I don’t know what…” She shook her head, suddenly horribly embarrassed. “No, no. Really. It wasn’t … that.”
He attempted a smile. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t have…”
“It wasn’t the kiss,” she assured him. The fact was, that kiss was among the top two bright spots of her day. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that.
“Then, I mean, I don’t want to intrude, but…” He sighed. “You look so sad.”
Marcia sat up straighter in the chair and g
lanced around at her yard. “I’ve had a rough couple of days and…”
“Anything I can help you with?” he asked with concern.
She shook her head. “No.”
He looked perplexed, and likely because she was desperate to make conversation, she filled him in on her morning. She explained about the mix-up with the paint—how the worry had weighed heavily on her mind—and finished by explaining that, miracle of miracles, someone had actually come into the store and purchased all the paint and then some.
“Wow, that’s great,” he said. However, with a sudden, fearful awareness, he realized he should fess up to being the purchaser of all that hideous, mustard yellow paint. Because although his intent had been to help her, by not telling her he was the buyer, he was yet again lying to her. He swallowed hard.
The reality hadn’t even occurred to him that when he’d swept in like some knight in shining armor and bought that paint, he had put himself in a precarious position. What if she found out? She was obviously a proud woman. Would she question his motives? He groaned aloud then, prompting her to give him a questioning glance.
If she found out, she would question his motives. Would she wonder if he wanted something from her in return? Would she think he had expectations of her? He felt himself growing sicker with dread by the moment.
“Ethan, are you all right?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine,” he lied. “Hey, well, I’m glad that, uh, paint problem was resolved.” He whistled. “Two hundred some gallons. Wow, yes, good for you.”
“Definitely good for me,” she agreed, feeling a little lighter thinking about that horrible bullet she had dodged.
Desperate to change the subject, and to get his mind off of his potential culpability in whatever repercussions might be forthcoming due to his involvement with that paint purchase, Ethan said gently, “So, why the tears?”
She gave him a stricken look that pulled at his heart strings. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away her pain. He resisted the urge—knew he’d probably send her running into her house if he made too sudden a move toward her. What the heck had that ex of hers done to her anyway?
Marcia watched the array of emotions cross his face, intrigued by them. She’d never been one to wear her emotions on her sleeves. She knew she could thank Jay for that too. She liked the openness in Ethan’s expressions—how he seemed to laugh easily. His expressiveness seemed genuine, whereas Jay had always been so difficult to read.
She realized her ex had practically turned her into a chameleon. When she felt real, honest-to-goodness emotion, he had often challenged her right to those emotions, asserting that she was simply emotional and overwrought—when she had always been as even-keeled as an individual could be. She would then abruptly change her facial expressions, to mask her real feelings. Wow, yet another epiphany. Her face contorted in anger, and Ethan noticed.
“Marcia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I know I’ve made you angry…”
“You haven’t made me angry,” she said distractedly, her face still fixed in an expression of contempt.
He was relieved to hear that, but doubted she was being truthful. He had probably crossed the line when he kissed her. “Again, I’m sorry I, um, kissed you,” he ventured.
“Well, I’m not,” she murmured, still clearly entrenched in some sort of emotional turmoil.
He was slightly taken aback. So… Did that mean she had liked the kiss? He knew he had like the kiss. “So, you’re okay that we kissed?” he clarified.
Apparently, this question penetrated, since she turned toward him and frowned. “What?”
He sat up taller in the chair. “Well, I, uh, just apologized for kissing you, and you basically said you’re not sorry I kissed you.”
“I did?” she said.
“Yes.”
Her face flamed red beneath the tear-stained cheeks. How was she supposed to respond to that? Deciding not to, she opted simply to come clean. She met his gaze and sighed. “Have you ever been in a relationship, in which you really didn’t see the true nature of the relationship until after you got out of it?” She shook her head self-consciously. “Wow, that was a mouthful.”
He nodded. “I actually know exactly what you’re talking about.”
She nodded in return. “It’s as if you need the time and distance to really understand the real dynamics of the relationship. Unfortunately, in my case, I find myself getting angrier and angrier…”
“At him,” he cut in.
“No,” she responded abruptly. “At myself.”
Ethan looked confused and spread his hands. “Why are you angry at yourself?”
She attempted a smile. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making much sense…”
He frowned and took her hand. “You’re making sense,” he assured her, searching her face. “Marcia, you apologize a lot. You apologize when you don’t need to apologize. You seem, almost, fearful…”
“Oh, no, I’m not afraid,” she said too quickly, but then paused and met his gaze. She shook her head. “It was never about fear…” She instantly changed her position. “Yes, it was…”
“He didn’t hit you…?” He suddenly looked angry.
“No, no, it wasn’t that,” she assured him. “It was more that…” Her words trailed off. She realized she was about to confide some of the most personal details of her relationship with a veritable stranger, when she hadn’t completely sorted out those details. She suddenly waved off her words. “You know what, it’s okay. I’ll work it out.”
“I’m happy to talk about it with you,” he assured her. “The truth is, I’m in kind of the same boat. I was in a long-term relationship that ended six months ago.” He sighed. “It’s only now I’m experiencing real clarity as to the real nature of the relationship. It’s only now I’ve realized I wasn’t happy, but I’m compelled to ask myself, why did I stick it out for so long? Why was I apparently content with the status quo?” He gave a brittle laugh. “Well, content isn’t exactly the right word. Had I truly been content, I’d still be in that relationship, wouldn’t I?”
Marcia gave him a speculative glance. “Well, if my husband hadn’t left me, I’d still be in the relationship.” Her eyes narrowed with regret. “What does that say about me?”
Chapter Fifteen
Ethan stood back to assess his handiwork. The newly installed siding at the front of the house looked good. He swiped his hands along the front of his jeans. It was
midmorning now and the heat of the sun was relentless. Fortunately, he’d started working at six, when it had still been cool, and he had managed to complete the entire front of the house before it had grown too hot to work outside any longer.
He strode to gather up his tools and cast a glance at Marcia’s place. He hadn’t seen much of her over the past couple weeks. After their conversation the day he’d helped her fix her gate, he’d hoped they had managed to restore what had been at minimum a budding friendship, but what he had hoped might develop into more. Unfortunately, he feared that as a private person, she had divulged more of herself to him than had been comfortable for her, and now felt inclined to avoid him at all costs.
Of course, he couldn’t really know why she was avoiding him, or if she really was avoiding him. Maybe she was simply busy. Just the same, he kept an eye out for her, and was always glad when the two at least exchanged a wave or a hello.
“Hey, Ethan, the siding looks great,” Mr. Grambel called as he approached.
Ethan turned to see his neighbor carrying a large, frosty glass of lemonade in his outstretched hand. “I’m really hoping that lemonade’s for me,” he declared with a grin.
“Yep, the missus said you look awfully thirsty over here.”
Ethan took the glass and drank until he’d emptied half of it. “Oh, that’s good,” he said with appreciation.
“My wife makes tasty lemonade,” Mr. Grambel said.
The two men stood back to study Etha
n’s current handiwork. “So the siding’s all done?” Mr. Grambel asked.
Ethan nodded. “Yep. And I’m nearly done with the roof too. I’ll be getting busy inside soon. Shouldn’t take too long to finish up.”
His neighbor nodded. “I haven’t seen much of Marcia,” he said, eyeing Ethan speculatively. “Any idea where she’s been?”
Ethan gave his neighbor a questioning glance and shrugged. “Why would I?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “The wife and I kind of figured you and Marcia might…”
“What?” Ethan said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Well, we were kind of hoping…”
“Yes?” he prompted, now smiling confusedly.
“Look, we sort of hoped you two young folks might hit it off. You’re both such good kids and all…” His words trailed off.
Ethan laughed, unsure how to respond. He’d hoped they might hit it off too. He shook his head, still chuckling. “Well, the truth is, I don’t think Marcia likes me very much,” he admitted.
Mr. Grambel looked surprised. “Why would you say that?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.” Rather than go into detail as to the reasons, he simply sighed. “I get a vibe, I guess.”
Mr. Grambel’s expression grew serious. “She’s understandably skittish, if you know what I mean.”
Ethan cocked his head slightly. “No, I guess I don’t.”
His neighbor sighed loudly and worriedly as he raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know how much I really should say, but the truth is…” He glanced off, as if grappling with his conscience. Finally, he said, “Marcia is a good woman. You won’t find a better one. Unfortunately, her ex was a real dud—had zero appreciation for her—treated her like she was some sort of work in progress he needed to fix. Truth is, the guy couldn’t fix anything, which is why she had to do just about everything around that place of hers.” He grew silent for a moment, and then gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Wow, I’ve just joined the rank of neighborhood gossip.”
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