Tainted

by Tess Thompson

  Mary knew the story. Her father was poor and lived with his single mother. Flora’s parents were pillars of the community and disapproved. When Flora became pregnant, she was sent away. They took the baby boy from her. She never knew what had happened to the baby. Mary’s father was gone by the time she’d returned, with no idea what had happened to his girlfriend. Over forty years later, Flora hired a private detective who found both Mary’s father and their baby boy. Cameron Post lived just north in a town called Stowaway. He’d been adopted by a nice couple, both of whom had passed on by the time Flora had found him.

  “You know how it is to lose a child,” Flora said. “I never got over it. The way they took him from me.” She shut her eyes and pursed her lips. “I try not to remember the sounds of his cries when they ripped him from my arms. But they haunt me.”

  Mary understood all too well. “It’s not something you ever get over.”

  “No, but Brody and Lance helped me to love again. They kept me busy, especially Brody. He was naughty when he was young, always playing pranks and causing mischief.”

  Mary placed her hand over her belly. Would this child help her love again? Could she love another baby like she’d loved Meme?

  A moment from that morning played in front of her eyes. She and Lance were at the breakfast table eating oatmeal and reading, a habit they’d developed over the past few weeks. He read slowly. For every two pages she flipped, he turned one. Every so often, he stopped and stared into space, as if to absorb a passage.

  The sun peeked through the clouds and spilled into the room. His hair was damp from a recent shower. Near the base of his neck, a lock curled in the shape of a snail shell. She wished to touch it with her finger and wind the silky strands around her skin.

  He laughed at something in the book, and it sounded like water boiling in a pot. Lance, slow and steady. The cross-country runner, pacing himself in anticipation of bumps and hills, maybe even the occasional root or hole. Not quick like her.

  Joy filled her. The shadow of grief still lurked in her heart, slowing its beat, but not extinguishing it. There, in the simple pleasure of a good book, a warm breakfast, and the companionship of someone she loved more than anyone in the world, joy crept through the fog and nestled next to the grief, as if to say, we can be here side by side in the same heart.

  Flora’s voice brought her back to the present. “This one here is Lance on his first day of kindergarten. Wasn’t he sweet?” In the photo, Lance grinned, his two front teeth missing. Freckles scattered over his nose. Big blue eyes stared into the camera.

  “He was adorable,” Mary said.

  “Yes indeed. Let me ask you something,” Flora said. “Have you fallen for him yet?”

  She blinked, startled by the question. “What do you mean?”

  “Dear, I know you married because of the baby. Everyone knows this to be true. My question is if you’ve managed to stay cold to him or if he’s wormed his way into your heart.”

  “It’s no one’s business but ours.” Interfering bossy old lady had no right to pry.

  “I’m not sure that’s quite accurate. Dax loves you and I love Lance. That makes your marriage our business.”

  “Loving us doesn’t give you carte blanche entrance into our relationship.”

  “Here’s my point,” Flora said. “Lance’s happiness is important to me. I want to feel assured that the woman he’s married to appreciates him. This business arrangement you two have is not to my liking.”

  “All due respect, I don’t really care.” She stood, unsteady on shaky legs. How dare this woman talk to her this way. Business arrangement?

  “Lance deserves the best,” Flora said.

  “I agree. But right now our focus is on the baby. We’ll work out what’s between us on our own. You and my father should stay out of it. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  She ran into her father on the way out the door. “Whoa there. Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked.

  “Anywhere but here.” She pushed past him and headed for her car.

  He followed her and grabbed the car door before she slammed it shut. “What happened?”

  “Your wife is an interfering old bat, that’s what.”

  “Mary Catherine. Shame on you.”

  “What’s between me and her precious Lance is just that. Between us. You two don’t get to dictate what we do.”

  “I agree.”

  “Tell her that,” Mary said. “She called my marriage a business arrangement and said I wasn’t good enough for Lance.”

  “Is that true? Is your marriage just for the baby? For insurance? Because I would’ve taken care of things for you.”

  She sighed and placed her hands on the steering wheel. “I know, Dad. Which is why we decided marriage was the best option.”

  “And there’s nothing between you?”

  “We’re best friends. We’ll co-parent well together.”

  His thick eyebrows lifted as he gazed down at her. “You ever think that’s what marriage is? Two best friends.”

  “We’re not in love, Dad.” Why couldn’t he just let it go?

  “You’ll divorce, then? Once the baby comes.”

  “We’ll see. I’m not sure. We’re not thinking that far ahead.”

  “Mary, I wanted you to have a real marriage. A family like we had.”

  “Like we had? You had a son you didn’t even know about. Our life was a lie.”

  “What a ridiculous thing to say. How could it be a lie if I didn’t even know about him?”

  “You never told me you loved someone before Mom.”

  “It never occurred to me you’d be interested,” he said.

  “Did Mom know?”

  “Yes. We shared everything. She loved someone before me. It’s unrealistic to think otherwise.”

  “How could you just forget her?” Mary gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. “And start up with someone you hadn’t seen for forty-five years. How do you do that?”

  “The feelings came back, honey. It happens.”

  “What if Mom were still alive? Would you have just run off with her?”

  “Of course not. I loved your mother very much.”

  “How is this supposed to work in heaven?” Mary looked up to the sky through the windshield. Angry clouds hung low. “Are you up there with your two wives?”

  His hands fell to his side. “I don’t know how it works. All I know is that your mother would want me to be happy while I’m still on earth, with or without her.

  “How do you know that?”

  “We talked about it many times.”

  She stared at him, flabbergasted. “You did?”

  He smiled. “Sure. We used to joke about who of our friends would be acceptable. She had a soft spot for Ellen Cunningham.”

  “She was nice. Good cookies.”

  “Great gardener,” her father said.

  “But she’s not widowed.”

  “Right. So, it’s a moot point.” He leaned his forehead against the doorframe and looked down at her. “Honey, you’re too old to be this upset about me remarrying.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what I feel or don’t feel.”

  “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

  “I am.”

  “Not really,” he said gently.

  “I hate seeing you with her. The way you stare into each other’s eyes makes me physically ill.”

  “I get that you miss your mom, but it was time for me to move forward. There were a lot of lonely years there.”

  “You had me,” she said.

  “That’s another reason why I needed to move forward.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As an example for you. It’s time you let yourself love again.”

  She turned away and glared at the dashboard.

  “Is there any chance you could love Lance?” her father asked. “Think about the baby.”

  “It has noth
ing to do with whether I love him. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust any man. You’re all cheaters. Even you.”

  He blanched and stepped back from the car.

  “I know about your affair. Mom told me. If you could do it, any man could.”

  Obviously flustered, he raked a hand through his hair. “It was a terrible mistake. One your mother forgave me for.”

  “Why? Why did you do it when you loved her?”

  “Mary, it’s impossible for you to understand. But men, some men, are broken in ways you can’t see on the outside. I hadn’t healed from the traumas of my childhood. With that came self-destructive behavior. A need for my ego to be built up by outside sources. You were a little baby and your mother wasn’t doing well.”

  “So, you helped her by screwing another woman?”

  “That’s the thing. I felt helpless and inadequate, so I did something to try and feel good about myself. It was one time. One stupid mistake. Your mother knew me like she knew her own hand. She understood why I did it. Not to say she forgave me easily, but your mother was wise. She knew our family was more important than holding onto her anger. So, she forgave me. We went into therapy, which was the best thing we ever did as a couple. I learned a lot about myself and when we came out the other side, after the hurt and betrayal eased, we were closer than I ever thought I could be to a person.”

  Mary rested her head against the steering wheel.

  “Honey, you can’t let my mistake or Chad’s betrayal ruin the rest of your life. Lance Mullen is a man who already knows his worth. He had a family that made sure he knew unconditional love. Don’t you see? He won’t cheat because he doesn’t need to.”

  “But what if it’s me? What if I’m so terrible to be married to that I push him into an affair? Look what I did to Chad.”

  “Chad was immature. You married too young and you weren’t suited, honey. Surely you see that now?”

  “Am I suited to Lance, Dad? You said yourself, he’s a fine person. I’m not.”

  “It hurts me to hear you say that. You’re your mother’s daughter. You know what kind of person she was.”

  The very best.

  “You’ve said yourself Lance is your best friend and confidant. The way he treats you is everything I’ve wished for you. Flora’s sure he’s in love with you.”

  “Flora thinks a lot of things.”

  He kept one arm on the car door. “You should give Flora a chance.”

  “She’s bossy and opinionated. Even Lance says so.”

  “Both true. But Lance loves her, right?”

  “Very much.”

  “Can you promise me you’ll try harder to forge a relationship with her?” he asked. “For me?”

  “I’ll try. But not today. Today I need to go home.” I need to see Lance. Talk to him. Have him put his arms around me and assure me everything’s going to be all right.

  When she started the car and drove out of her father’s driveway, the song she and Chad had chosen for their first dance at their wedding came on the radio. She quickly changed the channel. Memories of her first husband seemed to have great power today. They were everywhere, even on the radio.

  A month after her mother had died, three months after they’d buried Meme, she’d found texts on his phone. A nude photograph of the barista and a series of exchanges that were not meant to be seen by his wife. When he’d come out of the bathroom after showering, she’d thrown the phone at him.

  She remembered the beginning of that horrible exchange in vivid detail, only it was in black and white like in a dream.

  “Who is she?” Mary wore a flannel nightgown, the material thin at the elbows. Some days she didn’t get dressed. This was one of them.

  Chad picked up the phone, his face puckered like a rotting apple. “She’s someone I met. Since you’ve been so…”

  “So what?”

  “Depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed. I’m sad. There’s a difference.”

  “Okay. Since you’ve been sad.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Yes.”

  Prickles of pain, like the moment after you realize your arm’s fallen asleep and you shake or rub it to waken it, spread through her. “When were you planning on telling me? When did it start? Before Mom died? After?”

  “Before we got pregnant. I wanted to tell you. But then we found out you were pregnant.”

  A brick tore through her chest. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open like in a cartoon. “This started before? Before Meme?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I tried to break it off, but it’s impossible. I have to have her.”

  “You have to have her? Are you five?”

  “Mary, you’ve been a zombie.”

  “This started before I was a zombie. You were sleeping with another woman when your wife was pregnant.”

  The rest of the night was a blur. She remembered throwing a lot of household items, including a lamp, the television remote, a vase his mother had given her, and their framed marriage certificate. While she threw things, he packed a suitcase, dodging flying objects. Then, he left. The door slammed. His tires squealed as he pulled out of the driveway. He couldn’t wait to get away. She stood in the middle of the living room of her empty house. The hum of the refrigerator was loud in her ears. She sank to the floor and crawled to the couch. For the third time in her life, she wished it would end.

  * * *

  Now, she pulled into Lance’s garage and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his car. Freckles greeted her when she walked inside, wagging his tail and licking her hand. “Hey buddy. Where’s Lance?” Freckles barked and pointed toward Lance’s office with his chin.

  He followed her as she set her purse and keys on the kitchen table and walked over to Lance’s office. Normally, she didn’t bother him while he worked, but she needed to see his face. The tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. She needed Lance.

  She and Freckles stopped when they came to the open doorway of his office. Lance’s simple wood desk faced the sea, so his back was to them. He was dressed in what she knew were his favorite faded jeans and an old t-shirt he’d bought at a music festival with Kyle one summer. No shoes. He preferred bare feet during the warm months and socks during the winter. Details she’d learned over the last few months as his roommate.

  He clicked away at his computer, seemingly engrossed. One computer screen displayed a spreadsheet, the other a live feed of the stock market. Opaque shades over the large window were drawn to dim the bright sun. Only a blue streak of sea was visible from the bottom of the window. His desk was always tidy. She’d noticed it before, amazed that he moved large amounts of money around with a click of his mouse. Like Lance, his office was deceptively simple at first view.

  Freckles, tired of postponing their visit, trotted over to Lance. He sat and wagged his tail, secure that his master would stop what he was doing and pat his head. He didn’t have to wait long. “Hey boy, did you give up waiting for Mary?”

  Mary rapped on the door frame. “I’m home.” He turned, his chair sliding easily across the wood floor. “I should’ve known you were back. This crazy dog’s been waiting by the door since you left.”

  She smiled as she crossed over to him. Her fingers twitched with a sudden urge to place her hands in his glossy hair. She perched on the edge of his desk instead.

  Still seated, he rolled a few inches back and looked up at her. All his attention on me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

  “How did it go with Flora?” he asked.

  “Not great.”

  “What happened?”

  She thought for a moment about how much to share with him. It was impossible not to tell him the story without telling him about Flora’s question. Have you fallen for him yet?

  “She knows our marriage was because of the baby,” Mary said. “She said they all know.”

  “Really?”

  “Then she
asked if I’d fallen for you yet.”

  “That sounds like something she would ask.” His smoky blue-eyed gaze moved away from her face. He got up from his chair and pulled the shade all the way down. “What did you say?”

  “I told her it was none of her business.”

  “I’m sure that went over well.” He crossed to the other side of the office and sat in the dark leather loveseat.

  “She wants you to be happy,” Mary said. “Which apparently is the justification for getting in my business.”

  “She’s not exactly good with boundaries,” Lance said with a grimace.

  “I left abruptly and ran into my dad on the way out.” She crossed the room and sat on the coffee table next to the loveseat. “We talked about his affair. He told me he did it because he felt bad about himself—that’s why some men cheat. Do you agree with that?”

  He tilted his head to the ceiling and rested his neck on the back of the loveseat. “I don’t know. If I loved a woman enough to marry her, I would rather die than hurt her.”

  “That’s what he said about you.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yes, he said you’re too secure to cheat. He said something else too. Something I wonder about.”

  They were interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table. Lance glanced at the screen. His breath caught. The tips of his ears reddened.

  Before she could stop herself, she looked at the screen. Tori Hawthorne.

  Tori Hawthorne had called twice, according to the number next to her name. Who was Tori Hawthorne? A twist of dread ran up the back of her spine. Trouble.

  He stood and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. His eyes had turned a hard blue. “What should we have for dinner?”

  “Who is Tori Hawthorne?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not someone I expected to hear from again.” His voice had an edge she’d never heard before. Who was this woman?

  “Old girlfriend?” she asked.

  “The old girlfriend. The one who cost me my job,” he said.

  The girlfriend. The married girlfriend from New York.

  “What does she want?” Mary asked. As if he would know. Stupid question.

  “I can’t imagine.”

  He picked up his phone and stared at it, the muscles in his cheeks flexing. “I’ll call her back. Just out of curiosity.”