Authors: Nancy Frederick
R.J. stood and walked around the small table, Annabeth's hand still in his, and he tugged on it, causing her to rise.
"A man can want a hug from his wife without somethin' being wrong, can't I?"
Wrapping his arms tightly around Annabeth, R.J. held her until he felt the tension in her spine relax, until she was hugging him back just as tightly.
Then he leaned down and kissed her.
Hesitating only an instant, Annabeth, being without guile or a nature even remotely suspicious, wrapped her arms more tightly around her husband's back and leaned into the kiss, losing herself in the comfort of it, the familiarity, and returning emotionally to a time when everything in her life made sense.
Over and over he kissed her, and over and over she responded, feeling her head begin to swirl from the intensity of the moment.
His body pressed against hers with an urgency that she found dizzying, causing Annabeth to let go of all rancor, and being unable to think straight or to concentrate, she just responded to the raw emotion she felt.
R.J. ran his hand along her torso in the hurried way he always did, then down her hip and back across her breast.
Leaning more heavily on her, his weight pressing against her, he moaned, "Come upstairs."
Annabeth lay in R.J.'s arms, kissing him again and again, the debris of months of pain and alienation brushed aside in one grand gesture of reconciliation.
For just a second she pulled back from his lips, whispering feverishly, "Oh, I've missed you so.
Oh, I love…," but before she could complete the sentence, his mouth was upon hers again, and he was pulling her skirt up in the frenzied way he always made love.
Feeling him on top of her, Annabeth clung tightly to R.J.'s back and together they rocked and pounded each other to a suitable conclusion, then lay panting and limp.
Barely able to say a word, yet unable to remain silent, Annabeth spoke softly, and lovingly, "I never thought we'd do this again."
She reached over and kissed R.J.'s damp cheek in a manner very gentle and tender, and surprisingly he shivered then, and glanced once more at the clock.
Annabeth knew he was yearning to sleep, as he always did after sex, but instead of drifting off, he spoke, "This house gotta lotta memories in it.
A lotta laughs.
Good times."
Annabeth smiled at him and nodded, agreeing. "It's an old place though.
No dishwasher.
Lotta maintenance.
Termites." Annabeth tensed but he continued, "No place to start over."
Annabeth turned her head toward R.J. and scrutinized his face closely, not daring to hope that what she was hearing was true.
He patted her shoulder then went on, "The best thing about this place is it's old.
Probably a historic landmark.
And the location is pretty.
Secluded."
Annabeth gazed at R.J., the hope clearly visible on her face.
He looked away and bit his lip once again, then continued speaking, "You gotta sign this paper, putting me in charge of selling the house.
Then I got a surprise for you."
Sliding his arm from beneath Annabeth's head, R.J. reached for his pants which lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, and from them he pulled a folded sheet of paper and a pen.
"Sign this and I promise everything will work out perfect."
Annabeth looked at the paper, and seeing what it was, she recoiled.
Pressing against R.J.'s chest she moved somberly to rise from the bed, shaking her head.
R.J. jumped up and clutched at Annabeth.
"No, no, you don't understand.
Okay, get dressed.
I wanna show you something."
R.J. glanced at the clock once again.
"Come on, hurry!"
Annabeth, her hand clutched tightly by R.J.,
stared out the window as they drove, first toward town, past Hawkins Ford, then down a side street about a mile from the main road.
R.J. pulled the car into the driveway of what appeared to be a brand new brick house, squeezing Annabeth's hand and saying, "This is the kinda house you start over in."
She looked out at the yard, a barren stretch of dirt, no shrubbery yet, no flowers, and in her mind she saw what could be put there.
In a vision blooming with green and pink, Annabeth saw the lawn lush and perfect, azaleas covered with vibrant buds, flower beds bursting with life, and she smiled at the potential that lay before her.
Following behind R.J., who somehow had a key, she admired the sparkling new kitchen with its modern appliances, so unlike her own, the three huge bedrooms, walk-in closets, a roomy den, and at each new sight he squeezed her hand.
This was what R.J. now wanted?
To begin again with her--in this spotlessly new house?
"It's a great house, isn't it?" he asked, smiling at her, leading her back to the kitchen.
She could envision the furniture arranged to maximize the space, could see dinner parties in the gracious dining room, fires blazing in the hearth, muscle-relaxing soaks in the Jacuzzi tub, even perhaps the two of them in it together, and she smiled and nodded.
"It's beautiful."
"See.
I told you.
And all you gotta do is sign this paper and everything will be all right."
"And you're planning to move back home then?
You want to come back?"
R.J. placed his arm around Annabeth's shoulder and he repeated, "Everything will be all right."
Annabeth took the document from him and she began to read it, using that time to let the thoughts churning in her mind settle.
R.J. was coming home!
They wouldn't be divorced after all.
A happy ending.
The girls would be so pleased.
And they'd move to this beautiful house.
A real family again.
All as it should be.
Wasn't this amazing?
As she reached for the pen he'd handed her, R.J. drew in a deep breath, but a noise at the door startled them both.
He leapt away from her then, but maintained the nonchalance in his voice when he said, "Go on and sign, sweetheart.
I'll go check on it.
Probably nothin'."
Once again he glanced at his watch as he hurried away from her.
Annabeth, hearing voices, walked toward the front of the house and paused, not wanting to interrupt a discussion. R.J. was talking to another man, "A buyer at the amount we discussed?"
Annabeth listened, realizing they were discussing the sale of her house.
She smiled to herself. Imagine that R.J., doing all this to surprise her.
The other man said, "Yes, it's a good deal.
And then you and that sexy young bride of yours can move in here."
Annabeth gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth, the shock of recognition like a blow to her heart.
She took her time, breathed deeply and composed herself.
Her heart continued to pound, even after her breath was steady, and her thoughts were clear at last.
Walking into the room then and smiling at the stranger, Annabeth said, "I'm Mrs. Welner," then before R.J. could speak, she walked closer to him, as if to step into his arms for a hug.
Feeling him raising his arms to hold her as if on instinct, Annabeth moved closer, wrapping her arms around R.J.'s neck, and then without a plan, without a thought, acting on impulse herself, Annabeth swiftly raised her knee and slammed it into her husband's groin, then stepped back quickly as he crumpled to the floor.
Once again she smiled at the man, whose mouth was agape, and she said, "But I'm divorcing him."
Then she turned and walked out the front door, not looking back.
She trod across the barren dirt that would someday be somebody's lawn, leaving her footprints in the soft earth.
Annabeth pressed her hand to her chest.
Her heart raced; she could feel it pounding against her hand.
Walking faster, she strode down the lane, back toward the highway, the tears streaming from her eyes.
What had she done to deserve such
deception?
But for that interruption, she would have signed away her house.
Now weeping violently, she stumbled on, walking as fast as possible while the sobs wracked her body.
After fifteen minutes of swift walking, Annabeth was out of breath and stopped.
Spotting a tree stump, she sat on it, holding her face in her hands and she wept without restraint, all alone there beside the quiet lane, no cars in either direction to embarrass her.
No thoughts intruded on her pain for quite some time as she sat there, letting all the emotions ricochet through her as she wept.
Eventually she had no more tears and a bitterness surfaced which Annabeth could not avoid acknowledging.
There was no excuse for what he did today, no excuse at all, and no matter what the future brought, she would never open her heart to him again.
This thought should have been comforting, but it was not, and more tears slowly filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.
She was no longer weeping, just suffused with sadness.
It was heartbreaking that he would betray her so cruelly.
It was her fault, after all, she knew it was over, knew he was gone.
She was a fool not to see through him.
At least now she knew for sure that her marriage was over completely and forever.
It was the past. But she still had George.
Maybe he would become her future.
This thought calmed her a bit, so Annabeth sniffled, then reached in her purse for a tissue, to mop up her face. She glanced in a tiny mirror.
She looked a wreck and wished she didn't have to see anyone, but what choice was there?
She'd have to stop in and see if Doug could give her a lift home.
Rising from the tree stump with another sniffle and a huge sigh, Annabeth pressed on, and within another ten minutes, she'd arrived at the dealership and walked into Doug's office.
Instantly seeing that something was wrong, Doug leapt from his desk chair, walked to the doorway where Annabeth stood and put an arm around her shoulder.
He guided her gently to a chair, then closed his office door.
Taking a seat in the chair beside Annabeth rather than behind the desk, Doug took her hand in his and spoke softly.
"Tell me everything if you want to."
Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't manage the words, so she clenched her jaw shut, willing herself not to cry in front of Doug.
"If that George has hurt you, I'll…"
Annabeth's eyes widened, hearing the intensity in Doug's voice, and it was his depth of emotion that steadied her, that made her able to compose herself at last and speak.
"No, no, George and I are fine, closer than ever.
I just had a terrible scene with my husband.
I need a ride home.
Or I could call a cab."
Doug's brows gathered together and his dark eyes flashed.
He squeezed Annabeth's hand even more tightly, saying, "Of course I'll take you home."
Annabeth noticed Doug watching her out of the corner of his eye as they drove.
He was so thoughtful and kind, so nice to worry about her.
In moments they arrived
at her house and he turned off the ignition and walked to her side of the car to help her to the door.
Although she wanted more than anything to be alone, Annabeth knew that she could not fail to invite Doug into her house, not after all his concern and courtesy.
"Come in why don't you?" she invited, "Unless I've taken up too much of your time already."
"I would love to come in and visit with you," Doug said, smiling gently, "But I think what you need is to be alone now."
Releasing a huge sign, Annabeth replied, "Oh thank you for understanding.
I would love to show you my house though--sometime soon."
Doug opened his arms and enfolded Annabeth in them, saying nothing, and she stood there, feeling safe and protected for a long moment.
He started to speak a couple of times but restrained himself, finally saying, "I'll always be your friend."
Annabeth stepped back a bit from his embrace and smiled up at him.
"Thanks.
I feel that way about you too."
Annabeth entered the house and returned to her seat at the kitchen table.
She tried to reach for the paintbrush to complete the mirror, but she could not summon the will to do it.
Instead she sat quietly, thinking about her life, about R.J.'s actions.
Why was it she'd loved him so much, and why was she so willing to take him back?
Her heart weighed down with the sadness of betrayal, she thought of the events of the day, of this man who'd been her husband and someone she'd loved so deeply.
He did often take the easy way out, but after all the years, after everything they'd shared, after Richard, his birth and death, after the girls, even with him wanting a divorce, even then, but how after all, how could he do that, not to her but to anyone?
No, how could he do that to her?
Annabeth's eyes filled with tears, the bewilderment as strong as any love ever in her heart and for a long time she sat at the table blankly, raw and empty and trying to comprehend R.J. and his awful treachery.
None of it made any sense to her, so eventually she stopped questioning herself and thought instead of George.
A smile crossed her lips then.
Maybe she could just let go of R.J. at last; she had George now, didn't she?