Deception (2 page)

She spoke of the influence of the weather patterns on the writings of Emily Brontë and of the detailed computer program Bailey had created to keep track of all the data and weather patterns that exist in the writing.

“I got you a new car. It’s in the garage.” He tossed a key fob onto her bare stomach.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“A bit late for that discussion. I own you. Besides, I don’t know why you insist on driving that piece of shit. It’s not safe.”

In these moments she didn’t understand Alan. She could understand the lying, cheating, angry, and abusive Alan. But she didn’t understand his tender moments after such brutality.

“Alan, why do you do this?”

His fingers slid from her skin and she internally sighed with relief. He laced his hands together behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “You’re the only connection I have to her.”

He was speaking of their child that she’d carried to eight months. Alan had pushed her, causing her to take a nasty tumble. Early labor had ensued and resulted in a stillborn child. The sight of the tiny infant-sized casket at the funeral had broken her heart.

“Do you think she’s happy with the way you treat me?”

He sat up, facing away from her. “Maura, I blame you for everything that happened. You deliberately provoked me. What’s done is done. He stood. “Her spirit doesn’t live on anywhere. You know I don’t believe in that shit.”

“She does live on in heaven, she absolutely does.”

“Does that help you, Maura? I don’t see how. She’s still dead.”

Alan gathered his things, and then he was gone. She lay on the bed with her wretched thoughts until the room turned dark. The therapy she’d sought had brought her a little peace and maybe closure. She felt sad at times, but she tried hard to understand that she wasn’t to blame for the events of that day. Alan was projecting his guilt onto her because he knew it was his ultimate action that had killed their child that dreaded day. As much as she detested him, if he came to her seeking the same closure she had, she’d help him find it. She wouldn’t wish that sorrow on her worst enemy.

Gathering her composure, Maura sat up and stretched deeply, put on her robe, and then padded to the bathroom. She poured gardenia oil beneath the flowing water and inhaled. Tying the sash tighter around her robe as she walked through the house, she searched for her purse. Her hands shook as she poured one little white anxiety pill into her palm. She soaked in the tub until the water turned cold. There were no tears to be had because she’d learned tears didn’t bring solutions. Maura was a planner. Her immediate plan would be to continue living at the David home until she found a home of her own to rent. That was all she’d be able to focus on at the moment.

Maura sat on the bed in the mint-green room with its beautiful bay window that overlooked the gardens of the David estate. It was Saturday. That meant Rosa would serve cinnamon rolls along with the chorizo and egg burritos she made every morning.

Maura hadn’t let herself think about that night with Alan, but the fading bruises had been a constant reminder. She’d been a whirlwind of activity at work—keeping her mind so busy that it wouldn’t stray to thoughts of Alan. It had worked, but now that she was caught up she feared the memories would come screaming back.
His hands on her body. His knee in her back. His skin on her skin. His tongue in her mouth.

Shaking out her hands Maura stood and then stretched. She’d go ask if Rosa needed any help preparing breakfast and maybe see what Bailey was up to today. However, it seemed likely she’d strike out with Bailey—ever since her kidney transplant she and Parker had been inseparable. Maura missed Bailey, but she didn’t relish the idea of being a third wheel.

Maura was thankful for the David family. As if Parker donating his kidney and the family paying for the medical cost of the transplant weren’t enough, they’d allowed Maura to stay with them indefinitely. It had felt so nice to be part of a family again and in their home Maura felt safe and untouchable by Alan.

She dressed in shorts and a Bonnaroo concert T-shirt, and then rifled through the clothes in her tote bag, but was unable to find her flip-flops or the pair of leather sandals she sometimes wore. Uselessly, three pairs of stilettos peppered the floor. When the sweet smell of baking yeast and sugar with cinnamon hit her nostrils her mouth watered. Screw it, she’d go barefoot. She padded out the door of her room and down to the kitchen.

Bailey had been home from the hospital for two weeks now. She was recovering at an amazing pace. Even her doctors were impressed. Her blood tests had all returned within normal limits. Parker had willingly given of himself to Bailey and her body had accepted Parker’s kidney like a second skin. All the years of struggle and fight to survive were over for Bailey now and Maura no longer had to worry about her sister’s health. She’d been amazed at Parker’s recovery as well. He’d never even acted like he’d had a kidney removed.

The entire family had rallied around Maura, Bailey, and Parker and offered support, even Julian. However, lately he’d been distant and she missed his presence and his intense solicitation of her. She’d enjoyed letting him take care of her.

“Good morning, Maura.” Rosa said.

“Hi, Rosa. This smells delicious. I’m so hungry.”

“May I make you some coffee?”

“Oh no, allow me.”

Maura set up the drip style coffee maker and then clicked it on.

“I’ve got to run an errand, but do fix yourself a plate. Everything’s warming in the oven.”

“Thank you.” Rosa grabbed her purse and was gone, leaving Maura once again alone with her thoughts—the very thing she’d hoped to avoid.

Maura sighed and pulled a tortilla from the package, inhaling the floral scent before placing it on a plate. She opened the oven door and loaded her tortilla with egg and chorizo sausage and a huge cinnamon roll dripping with sticky icing. She poured a mug of coffee, and then took a seat at the breakfast nook in front of the kitchen’s bay window.

She ate and watched as gardeners mowed and pulled weeds. The smell of fresh- cut lawn mingled with the flavors wafting up from her plate. She sighed in delight at the easy and peaceful feeling. She bent her leg, resting her foot on the bench while she relished the feel of the warm coffee mug in her hands. When a plate clanked against the counter she turned to see who’d come to join her on this glorious Saturday morning—Julian.

His back was to her, but his attire was similar: shorts and a T-shirt, no shoes. As she sat quietly she guessed he’d not seen her. Instinct had her sinking lower on the bench. When she’d attempted to speak with Julian to explain what he’d seen that dreadful evening at her home he’d refused to hear her out. In fact, he’d seemed angry.

She’d felt slighted because none of this mess had been her fault—the name on the rental agreement had been Mandola Properties. She’d had no idea Alan owned it. Later she’d discovered it was one of his so-called “new” ventures. The same thing happened with the grant money she’d been awarded securing her position at the university—a grant that was currently providing graduate education for four research assistants. The money had come from another of Alan’s companies, and yet another
new
venture.

With his plate full of food, Julian stood at the counter and sipped coffee. He unrolled the day’s newspaper and read. Unexpectedly he gathered up his plate, mug, and paper and walked in her direction almost sitting in the breakfast nook before he saw her. It was then that she noticed he wore a Bonnaroo T-shirt from the same year. He took in her shirt and as he set his plate on the table their eyes connected. A slight smile curved his lips, but hers she knew was as big as the sun.

“Julian, about that night at my house, I—”

Julian’s palms turned out to face her. “You don’t need to explain. It was pretty clear.”

He’d seen Alan enter her home on Edgewater Lane and make himself at home. She recalled the way Julian’s eyes had stared at the overnight bags Alan had casually dumped beside the couch. Julian had set his penetrating green eyes on her and they’d tightened immediately. Alan had introduced himself as her husband. Bailey corrected him, letting the crowd know he was her
ex-
husband, but the damage had been done. All the more when Alan asked Maura to take his bags to the room they shared.

Maura hated that Julian had felt so betrayed by her situation. She sat up on the bench, placing her foot on the floor. “What seemed so clear actually isn’t.”

The knife in his hand sliced through soft dough. “Maura, the truth is easy—you’re either available or you’re not. I don’t want to be in the middle of your unfinished business with Alan.”

“It
is
finished. I divorced him.”

He leaned forward and pointed his fork in her direction. “It’s not finished. My dad is helping you tie up the loose ends. Maybe we need to look up the definition of finished.”

“I just meant that I want it to be over, but sometimes people don’t always get what they want. Sometimes sacrifices are required.”

“Do me a favor, if you feel a desire to talk to someone about your issues talk to Dad, but please don’t confide in me. I work hard to keep my life free from relationship drama.”

“I’m just going to go for broke here—I felt things with you that I’d never felt with anyone else. I thought we had a connection.”

He stared down at his plate. “I thought so too, but I can’t do this again.” He shook his head ever so slightly as he spoke softly into his plate. At that moment she saw the stone set in his eyes. The wall had been erected.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to throw it away?”

“No, you are.” Julian dropped his knife and fork, tossed his balled up napkin onto the uneaten food, and then pushed his plate away. “Maura, I just want to sit here in my kitchen and enjoy a quiet Saturday morning.” He opened the newspaper, shielding himself from her view.

She felt sick to her stomach. Walking her mug and plate to the kitchen sink she scraped the unfinished bits into the trash, and then she washed her dishes, dried them, and placed them in the cupboard. She quietly padded away, down the hall, and up the stairs to the room where she’d been staying. Pushing the door closed she leaned her forehead against the hard wood.

Julian was never going to give her another chance. He was serious about what he deemed her deception and the punishment was his revoked friendship. She focused on keeping down the large breakfast she’d just eaten. Even worse than the loss of his friendship was the withering of the tender bloom of love that had developed. She’d never again get to experience his gentle and warm passionate kisses or his tender caress as she cried into his chest. She swallowed down the catch in her throat.

It wouldn’t do for Maura to stay at the David estate much longer. With a sigh she dressed in jeans and a silk shirt, popped her feet into a pair of black stilettos, and pulled her hair into a neat ponytail. She grabbed her bag and set out to greet the day, hopeful she’d be able to find a small rental she could make into a home—
her
home.

Stopping in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water she spied the newspaper on the counter. She snatched it up thinking she’d use the classifieds to begin her search. On her way to the front door she felt the paper slide through her fingers. Turning, she met the narrowed eyes of Julian.

“Why are you stealing my newspaper?”

“I’m sorry . . . I guess I assumed you were done with it.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions. It doesn’t become you.”

He slid sunglasses onto his face and walked down the hallway. She quit trying to understand him. The sooner she could move out, the better things would be.

***

By three o’clock in the afternoon Maura had looked at five houses and applied for a one-year lease on three of them. Using her impeccable references, she hoped to hear from the owners soon. On the way back to the David estate her stomach growled so she stopped at Crazy Cajun to get a to-go order of fried shrimp.

She walked through the doors of the large David home and was surprised to find the house empty. Maura made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting on a stool at the bar. She twisted off the top of a locally-brewed bottle of
Pancreas
beer and took a long, cool sip. The refreshing taste zapped her already heightened taste buds. Maura bit into a shrimp, and then chewed with pleasure. The food was delicious, just like all the other culinary delights she’d sampled since arriving in the bayou country. She extracted the half-finished crossword from her bag along with a pen. A door closed in the distance, alerting her that someone was home.

Sipping beer she contemplated seventeen across. When she heard heels click on the marble floor she looked up to see Courtney enter the kitchen. Maura always admired her energy and today was no different. Courtney smiled when she spied Maura at the bar.

“Hey Maura, how’s your Saturday going?”

“Can’t complain.”

Courtney went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. She was extremely pretty, with blond hair and green eyes. She always looked as if she’d stepped out of a magazine—highly polished with fresh makeup and not a hair out of place. Maura pressed a palm to her own head to ensure her locks were smooth. She could feel that they weren’t, which wasn’t any wonder given that she hadn’t run a brush through her hair since last night.

“It’s hot as blazes outside.” Courtney leaned against the counter near Maura. “That shrimp smells insanely good.”

“Please help yourself. There’s more than I can eat.”

Courtney daintily plucked a shrimp from the pile and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Good.” She drained the rest of her water.

“Please, take as much as you want.”

“Can’t. I’m dieting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Maura slid the take-out away from Courtney so she wouldn’t be tempted.

“Please”—Courtney swatted the air with her hand—“growing up with three unsympathetic brothers in the house I’ve developed a will of steel. All they ever want to eat is fried shrimp or rib eye steak.” She cut her eyes to Maura and regarded her with an elevated neatly-groomed brow. “By the way, is Julian still being an asshole?”