Scarlett Sinner (The Scarletts

by Brenda Barrett

  The sign on the gate said 33, and there were two stately Italian cypresses flanking the entrance to the building. It looked imposing. She wondered how Troy could afford to live there. This was not what she had expected.

  "Rich," Kadeem said, looking out and echoing her thoughts.

  Rich. This looks like a place wealthy people live. She was almost afraid to drive into the driveway, but then the door was opened and Troy stood in the front.

  Chelsea parked under the undercroft since it had begun to drizzle. She got out nervously.

  She had not seen Troy for a while. She drank him in. He was in a thick grey sweater and jeans. Ordinary attire. But he looked gorgeous to her. He might not be as bulky and hunky as Kadeem but he was just right: wiry and lithe, with a smooth, masculine face.

  She dragged her eyes from his, cursing her softening heart and opening the car’s backdoor.

  Dahlia was still groggy after her nap.

  "Daddy!" she squealed in unfettered joy when she saw her father, running to greet him like she was an orphan and he was her only relative in the whole world. He scooped her up in his warm arms and Dahlia rested her head on his shoulder clinging to his neck like a limpet.

  Chelsea smiled grimly. "Hello Troy."

  "Chelsea." Troy looked her over and then at Kadeem in the front.

  "This was a working trip," Chelsea said. "I had to drop off Dahlia personally."

  Troy nodded, his gaze watchful.

  Kadeem came out of the car and stretched. "I am Kadeem Virgo. Auditor at Villa Ingles."

  "Troy Scarlett." He said it with his voice as expressionless as possible but then he looked at Chelsea, a question in his eyes, as if he thought that Kadeem was more than who he said he was.

  "Would you like to come inside?" Troy asked, wincing a little as Dahlia hugged him tighter around his neck.

  Chelsea was curious to see inside but she saw the little boy as he emerged from the house and a shaft of unexpected pain squeezed her heart. And then she shook her head. "No, thank you."

  "Come along, Todd," a lady's voice said. Chelsea got a glimpse of her and almost reeled in shock.

  She was young and she was pretty and she was living with Troy? What on earth was Troy doing?

  He had moved on wholly and totally, then?

  "Hello," she smiled at them. "I am Faye."

  The housekeeper? Chelsea had heard that name before, when Dahlia had given her blow-by-blow account of the weekend, but who on earth would have thought that Faye was going to be so young or so nice-looking?

  She glanced from Troy to Faye, her eyes glinting. She barely registered that Dahlia had loosened herself from her father and had gone into ecstatic mode when she saw her brother.

  "Hello," Chelsea said. "Well, I have to, er, get back."

  She pulled out Dahlia's bag out of the back seat and handed it to Troy.

  He took it and stepped back. "Have a nice weekend, Chels."

  She didn't trust her voice to speak, she just nodded and got into the car. Not even checking that Kadeem had closed the door properly or saying goodbye to Dahlia, she roared out of the brick-lined driveway.

  Her breathing was erratic.

  "That lady, Faye, was really beautiful," Kadeem said beside her. "Your ex surely knows how to pick the ladies."

  "Shut up." Chelsea gripped the steering wheel and stepped on the gas a little bit harder than usual.

  "You didn't even say hello to your son," Kadeem said, looking at her in confusion. "Are you okay, Chelsea?"

  "I am fine," Chelsea gritted out. "He is not my son. He is the other child."

  "Oh," Kadeem slapped his head. "I have really put my foot in, haven't I? Now I get it. They sure do look alike, though."

  Chelsea stepped on the brakes, almost jackknifing the car across the road.

  "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

  She was hyperventilating. She could barely get enough air into her lungs. Troy was not sitting down and waiting for her to work out her feelings toward this. He had moved on, changed his career, changed house and was forming a tight little family with his two children and a young-looking housekeeper who slightly resembled Erin. She had always known that Troy had a type. Big-breasted ladies with an hourglass figure. She had never been his type. All of her insecurities came rushing up to meet her, fueled by a healthy serving of jealousy.

  Kadeem was still looking shell-shocked from the sudden stopping of the vehicle. He nodded jerkily.

  "Okay. I am sorry."

  "Good." Chelsea inhaled shakily. She parked at the side of the road, her hands trembling. "Give me a moment."

  "You got it." Kadeem had an alarmed look on his face, like he wasn't sure what she was going to do next.

  Why was it that everybody had moved on, as if what happened was just a mere thing? It wasn't a thing. Her husband had slept with Erin Irving! Snarky Erin Irving.

  Wicked Erin Irving.

  Evil Erin Irving.

  And she had had his son. A son! Troy had always wanted a son. He loved his daughter but he had always wanted a son. It was probably a man thing, wanting to carry on his name or something. But of course Erin Irving had beat her to it.

  Her breath caught in a hitch and she forced herself not to cry. She couldn't cry in front of Kadeem twice in one day. She wound the window on her side all the way down and inhaled and exhaled deep gulps of cool mountain air, and then she started the car again.

  Kadeem waited until Chelsea looked calm enough before he asked quietly. "We won't talk shop till Monday, okay?"

  "Fine," Chelsea said through gritted teeth, "that's fine with me."

  "You could show me where Sherman's Cove is and unwind a little. Apparently this place is some deeply kept local secret."

  "Not in the mood," Chelsea said roughly. "I can't get my hair wet now. I have church, though. I am not even sure that I am up to going."

  "What about Saturday night? Can we hang then? You know, over at Potter's House. I heard they had poetry readings and serve the best steamed fish."

  Chelsea glanced over at Kadeem. "I don't think so, and no, they don't have the best steamed fish. My mother-in-law, Daisy, has the best steamed fish in Treasure Beach, bar none, and I have eaten everywhere. But of course Daisy won't be around this weekend. If she had been she could have spared me seeing my husband and his pretty housekeeper."

  "Come on, Chelsea," Kadeem urged. "If you stay at home you'll be beating yourself up about your husband. Obviously he is a cheater and he doesn't love you. He has moved on. You should be thinking of moving on, as well."

  "It would serve him right if I did, too," Chelsea growled. "I can't believe that he has that woman there with him...this is beyond the pale...first Erin, now Faye..."

  "Revenge can be sweet." Kadeem caressed her leg and then withdrew his hand. Chelsea was in no doubt as to what he meant.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Your ...er... wife seemed to be in a hurry," Faye said to Troy. He was looking through old sermon notes; she was dusting his study.

  He grunted at her comment, unwilling to take up the bait to discuss Chelsea. He was feeling a tiny sore spot in his heart region when he thought about how swiftly she had left.

  "Your wife is very fashionable looking," Faye said when he was getting orange juice from the fridge for Dahlia.

  Troy nodded. It was true, she had whittled down somewhat but she was still the elegant, sinewy Chelsea that he spent five years of his life with.

  "Your wife has very long hair; is it real?" Faye asked when she was upstairs steam pressing Dahlia's church dress and Todd's shirt.

  Troy looked outside for the children. He heard them squealing in the back garden. Dahlia was running away from Todd, her face flushed with happiness. It was amazing how much fun children could have by themselves. When the two of them were together he had no worries about entertaining them for the weekend.

  He looked back at Faye and folded his hands. "You know, you don't do a very good job at leading questions."

 
Faye flushed. "I am sorry, Troy. It's just that..." She paused while the steamer spluttered over the arms of the shirt. "It's just that, how can she leave you and the kids? Is something wrong with her?"

  Troy sighed.

  "And that guy, that big guy, that came out of the car—he doesn't look like any auditor. He looks like a bodybuilder or something."

  Troy clenched his fists. He was trying not to speculate about that. At first he had been shocked when Chelsea had shown up with this big, hulking guy. When she had called him he had held out some hope that Chelsea could spend some time with him, that they could talk. He could show her around. Instead, she had shown up with a guy who could give the Incredible Hulk a run for his money and then she had refused to come into the house and then had driven off like a bat out of hell.

  Their wedding anniversary was in a week's time. It would mark one year since Chelsea became hostile to him and one year since he had had his wife. It was an untenable situation.

  "There is nothing wrong with Chelsea." Troy moved away from the wall. "She is just leading her own life; after all why not? Our marriage is all but over."

  Faye shook her head. "Never say never."

  "Hope," Troy grimaced, "the last frontier. We'll see."

  "My second son's father and I had a pretty rough four years," Faye volunteered quickly, "and I thought that we were over for good. He was insanely jealous of me. At one point I had to take out a restraining order against him. I thought I had enough but the other day he came back.

  "He has a job now. He is taking care of his kid like he should have been, acting all responsible. And though I used to swear that I would never in a million years want to go back to him, I am thinking that maybe I shouldn't have said never."

  Troy raised an eyebrow. "Insanely jealous, huh? Maybe I should keep an eye out for him."

  "He's not like that anymore," Faye said hurriedly. "These days he is like a different man."

  "Only go back to him if you are very sure about that," Troy wagged his finger at her, "and don't sell yourself short, okay?"

  Faye smiled. "I won't. I am realizing that there are still good men around. You being one."

  "I wouldn't call myself good," Troy said wearily. "I made some pretty stupid decisions a couple of years ago."

  Faye snorted. "You mean Todd?"

  Troy nodded.

  "Before you got married to your wife?"

  Troy nodded again.

  "Your wife is just spoiled and incredibly stupid to let this come between the two of you for so long." Faye shook her head. "She’s acting as if she has never made a mistake in her life."

  Troy frowned. "Faye, please..."

  "It's true." Faye huffed. "You’ve looked so sad in the last couple of weeks. I know it’s none of my business and I might not know all the details but still, enough is enough."

  Troy smiled slightly. "Faye, thank you for the indignation on my part but I can't have you calling Chelsea names."

  "You know what," Faye said contemplatively, ignoring Troy altogether, "maybe she needs some competition for her to wise up."

  "You mean play games with her?" Troy shook his head. "No thanks. I counsel students all the time that games don't work. They have a tendency to backfire."

  When he left the room, he missed the mischievous glint in Faye's eyes.

  *****

  Troy took Dahlia and Todd to Mulgrove for church, a very rural area, where even phone signals were not reliable. He remembered the church as a student minister. It was way off the beaten track, in the middle of the mountains.

  He loved it there. It was teeth-chattering cool; added to that, it was drizzling intermittently. He bundled Todd and Dahlia in their thickest sweaters before they left the relatively warmer conditions of Mount Faith.

  He even wore a jacket over his jacket.

  The people were warm, though, and friendly and the cold, foggy day was not a deterrent for them to come out and worship. The church population was small and made up mostly of older folks but they were vibrant.

  When he arrived the main speaker for the day had not showed up yet and so the elders were extremely pleased to see him. They remembered him from his student pastor days.

  It was a good thing that he had actually looked up some of his old sermons the day before. He stepped into the pulpit once more and felt at home. He missed this. Maybe it was his calling to preach. He preached about Moses and the crossing of the Red Sea. "…When God said stand still. When you have done all you can, just stand still…"

  It was a message to him which he could apply to his relationship and a message to the congregation. He felt revived when he stepped down after the sermon, and he realized something else. Todd became extremely clingy after that, almost hero-worship clingy. He pressed into his side at the greeting session at the door, beaming from ear to ear as the people shook his hand.

  And it struck him anew how impressionable children were. Todd was probably thinking that his daddy was the best daddy in the world.

  It gave him pause. It reiterated the kind of awesome responsibility that he had to this little boy, the mammoth task of raising him as a single father without a female influence in his life.

  In a few weeks he would be six.

  He had a responsibility to his children to be the best father that he could be. He had to provide the best possible family unit for them, to nurture them so that they could grow into well-adjusted adults. Just like his parents did for him, he had to do for them. And he had to do it with or without Chelsea.

  The thought was sobering. He felt as though he was a man who had been treading water in the middle of the open sea and then realized that he would either swim or drown.

  "Pastor Troy, man, you hit the nail on the head today!" A tall, thin guy with a grinning bearded face from back in his seminary days shook his hand vigorously.

  "Pastor Lance Beuforth." Troy laughed. "Imagine seeing you up here. What's up, man?"

  They hugged, the people around them looking on fondly.

  "This is my church, man," Lance said, grinning. "You have to come eat with us. Where's Chelsea?"

  "Not here today," Troy said, his smile slipping a notch. Everybody who knew them from college would have asked that question. "My kids are here, though, and yes, we would be happy to come to your place."

  *****

  Lance and his wife Verna lived midway between Mount Faith and Mulgrove in a fairly large house in the middle of a woodland.

  Todd and Dahlia were instantly fed and were being entertained by Verna's teenage sister, a very resourceful storyteller who really seemed to be enjoying their company.

  The adults had lunch at the kitchen table, which Verna pointed out was the warmest place in the house.

  "So how's it going, man?" Lance said, leaning back in his chair. "A little birdie told me that you no longer have a church. I promptly told them to stop spreading rumors."

  Troy nodded. "It’s true. I was given the old heave-ho."

  "But why?" Lance frowned.

  "Yes, why?" Verna raised an eyebrow. "What did you do, Troy?"

  "Nothing from the present day. Back in school days I had a thing with Erin. It lasted all of three days. Todd is the result. I found out a couple months ago."

  "Erin Irving?" Verna clapped her hand over her mouth. And then she frowned. "But the two children are twins right?"

  "No." Troy sighed. "They aren't."

  Lance shook his head. "That's just wrong, man. How can they let you go for something that you did when you were not even a pastor?"

  "Those are the rules." Troy shrugged. "Of course, there is the appeal process. I don't have the energy for that. I got an inheritance from my grandfather and finished up my Master’s in counseling. So now I am at Mount Faith, working in the counseling department."

  "Well, if you are fine with it, who am I to say?" Lance looked at him and frowned. "Erin Irving, though? She was a pretty girl but her reputation was not all that good."

  "No wonder Chelsea is not here
with you today." Verna snapped her fingers. "Troy Scarlett, that must have been a low, low, low blow."

  "And it is past," Lance interjected. "And they have a lovely son together. Where is Chelsea, Troy?"

  "In Treasure Beach." Troy rubbed the back of his neck. "She is not pleased with me, so she is taking a long time off from our relationship."

  Verna nodded smugly. "I would not be pleased either. Erin was not one of us. I knew what she was capable of with men; she had all those married lecturers jumping through hoops to please her. Let’s face it, a word from Erin and they were pulling people's grades and re-administering tests. Remember that time she almost got Chelsea expelled?"

  "Good Lord," Lance moaned. "Verna, Erin said she had nothing to do with that. There was an anonymous report."

  "Why are you defending her, Lance? Did you sleep with her too?" Verna growled. "Did you, Lance?"

  Lance opened his mouth. "For heaven's sake."

  "Did you?" Verna hissed.

  "Guys, guys," Troy held up his hand, "the children can hear you if you speak this loudly. Verna...Erin is dead. Surely it doesn't matter anymore what she did or didn't do."

  "I don't care!" Verna was looking at her husband with an angry light in her eyes. "My husband is alive and not answering the simple question. Did he or didn't he?"

  "I didn't." Lance sighed. "I didn't sleep with her."

  Verna was far from mollified. "Okay, so you didn't but sleep is putting it mildly. Did you have sex with her?"

  "Define sex." Lance murmured, looking cornered.

  Troy looked at his friend tensely. He didn't want this to be another wrecked marriage. He had not even suspected that Lance could have had a fling with Erin. His wife obviously thought so, though.

  "Lance, stop playing with Verna," he murmured. "I am telling you from my own experience that not answering can have strong repercussions."

  Lance laughed and looked at his wife. "I was teasing. I was teasing. Relax."