Authors: Kate Vale
“George?” Margaret refilled her tea cup.
“Brad’s senior partner. Brad said George told him she had to go, that she made too many mistakes, not being on time, that sort of thing. Probably because the law office wasn’t where she did her best work, if you know what I mean.”
Margaret chuckled. “Probably not. So tell me what happened at the beach.”
“I finally just had it out with him. I put up with it too long, Margaret. I don’t know what made me say it. Part of me is glad he’s dead. But I feel so guilty.”
Margaret sighed and reached for a brownie. “More tea, Suzanna?”
“Please.”
“Honey, it was his bad heart, not you, that killed him. When’s the funeral?”
“Not until Penny gets home. When I talked to her on the phone, she cried and cried. She was always her daddy’s girl. I hope she doesn’t blame me.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. “I can’t seem to get a handle on things … what I’m going to do now.”
Margaret stood up and motioned for Suzanna to stand. “Let me give you another hug.” She rubbed Suzanna’s back. She released her and her gaze dropped to Suzanna’s upper arms. “Did Brad give you those bruises, too?” She squinted at the discolored skin and then back at her friend. “Tell me the truth.”
“He shook me so hard my teeth rattled. I think it was his class ring that did the damage. At the time, I wanted to spit in his eye, but after he let me go, that’s when I got really scared.” She reached for her teacup, her hands shaking. “Right after that was when he collapsed.”
“Sit down and drink your tea before you fall down. What are you going to do—after the funeral and all? I know you have to get that out of the way.” Margaret looked her up and down in between sips of tea, and pursed her lips.
“I don’t know who I am anymore. All I know is I don’t like what I’ve become, what he made me. Maybe if I got away, took a trip, I might find myself.”
“
New clothes, Suzanna, get a new wardrobe.
That’s what I did after William died.
I
t will do wonders for your mood.
” Margaret
nibbled her brownie, seeming to savor every bite and not minding that she was doing most of the talking. “Brad didn’t deserve you. And now that he’s gone, you can
be a merry widow
and enjoy yourself. He left you with plenty of money, didn’t he?
”
“We’re comfortable. The biggest expense right now is Kevin’s college. Only two more years unless he goes to grad school.”
“Well, it’s time you started doing things you want to do. You need to stop crying over Brad. He doesn’t deserve it.” Margaret reached for the next to last brownie on the plate. “I didn’t mope
around after William’s
death, and I loved that man. There just is no point in tearing yourself apart. You said yourself Brad’s father had heart trouble. He probably inherited a bad ticker. You have to
go on living. Besides, you’re still young. How old are you now, Suzanna?”
“Forty-six.” Suzanna felt like sixty-six, however that must feel. Old. Tired. Afraid. So alone.
“Maybe you should look for someone else. You’re still young enough.”
She stared at Margaret. “Are you crazy? The last thing I want is another man. I can’t think of anything I’d want less right now. Maybe I never will.”
“Okay, forget about another man. How about a new
do?”
Suzanna
brought her hands up to her hair,
middling short, with a light wave.
Its
color was still dark brown,
only
a few strands of gray. Her hairdresser had suggested occasional rinses to hide them, but she had
never
bothered
.
“Maybe I’ll let it grow.”
Brad
had
never liked
her hair long. “And go on a diet. Do you think I’m fat?”
“No way. You’ve got curves, dear girl. If anyone’s fat, it’s me.” Margaret reached for the last brownie. “But I prefer to think of myself as zaftig. And I guess you know why. I can’t resist sweets.”
In spite of herself, Suzanna smiled. But she felt too rounded, too heavy in the hips. Maybe she would lose weight. She’d had no appetite at all since she’d come home. “I need to be more like you, Margaret. Independent. Carefree.
Except
you don’t
have children to worry about.” That was her problem
,
her children
, why she felt she couldn’t change anything
. But she
mustn’t
blame them. She was the one who had to decide what to do
with her life, if only she could
.
“Don’t you let Penny or Kevin stop you. They’re almost grown and they’d want you to have a life of your own. Talk to them about it. Maybe after the funeral.” Margaret stood up. “I have to go to my massage. You should get one, Suzanna. Nothing puts a smile on my face faster than someone slathering me with scented oil and pounding away on what’s left of my muscles.”
“Maybe after the funeral.”
Margaret waved as she left.
Suzanna looked at the calendar. The funeral. She had to talk to Penny.
Find out when she
’d be
back from that New York trip.
She was about to make the call when the phone rang.
“I’ll be home tomorrow, Mother.” The background noise suggested her daughter must be in a bar. When Suzanna could no longer decipher her daughter’s comments, she wished her a safe trip home and hung up.
Suzanna leaned back in Brad’s chair. The den with its muted colors and dark leather furniture mirrored her mood. How would she go on? What was their true financial situation? Brad had always taken care of such things. She needed to call their accountant, right after she called George at Brad’s office.
She sat down at the piano and let her fingers ramble over the keys, not sure what to play. She opened the book of show tunes on the music stand. At first she selected quiet pieces. But when her guilt and then anger at Brad intruded again, she pounded a piece that forced her fingers to fly over the keys, her foot keeping the sound loud, much louder than she normally played. When she finished the piece, she pressed her head against the lip of the music stand.
Too tired to eat dinner, she wandered upstairs to her bedroom. But once she was in bed, her mind flitted from one possibility to another. Penny had said she should take a cruise after the funeral. But Suzanna didn’t want to go on a cruise. She just wanted to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about anything. Except she couldn’t sleep. Too many questions cycled endlessly through her mind.
I shouldn’t have asked him for a divorce.
She should have just let her attorney—someone Brad didn’t know—serve the papers. But would he have responded any differently? She’d been afraid to ask the doctor if their argument had caused the heart attack. When she’d made vague references to stress, all he’d said was that it could have contributed. She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow. The bruise on her cheek still throbbed, reminding her of Brad and his hateful words, so dismissive of her, and how he had hurt her for so many years, always trying to control her.
When had she first questioned her willingness to stay with
him
? She remembered only that the idea of leaving him had become a
more
recent issue—particularly after Kevin began college. But she had put it off—
why? Because she was afraid she couldn’t make it on her own
? Was it easier to
stay where she was
for
the children’s
sake? Did
Penny
suspect
what
her
father
had been
doing
all those years, what Kevin knew after that one awful night
?
What did she want, now that Brad was gone?
She had no idea, except that she wanted a change. She
needed
a change. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that reflected her fears, but they seeped onto her cheeks anyway. Before she finally fell asleep, her pillow was damp.
Chapter 2
Two months after Brad’s funeral,
Suzanna looked around the stateroom
of the HMS
Paradiso
. Two dresses lay on the bed, evidence of her indecision. She
sat down
at the small desk
and reached for her
hair
brush.
Why did I let Kevin and Penny talk me into this cruise?
She
shrugged out of her blouse and hung it in
the miniscule closet,
looking again at the dresses on her bed. She was supposed to dress for dinner, but
she didn’t really want to go. If she stayed
in her room
,
she wouldn’t have to see anyone, be with anyone, make conversation with
strangers
.
Margaret
kept telling her she was in the “walking wounded”
stage, to stop counting the days and just enjoy herself
.
Kevin
had said
she should
get a job or go back to school. She knew he was trying to be helpful
. Penny
had told her to
take
all the time she needed.
“W
hat
do
I want?” she asked the image in the mirror. “What do
I
want? And, when am I going to stop waiting for someone to tell me what to do?
If only I could just reach out and grab life
by the ears!” A nice thought, but
taking action seemed to elude her.
S
ince the funeral, she had changed no
thing. Maybe that’s what she needed to do
—start small, with little changes, whether Penny objected or not. She smiled ruefully. At least Kevin had been encouraging
. She took out a piece of paper.
Clean out Brad’s closet
, she wrote
. She needed to get rid of his things, even though she hadn’t
had
the mental energy to
tackle that chore
. Maybe when she got ho
me. It would give her more room
for her clothes.
Lose some weight
.
Even though she was thinner than before the trip to the beach, s
he would start dieting after the cruise with its perpetual buffet table.
Sell the house
.
That
was a big
gie
.
Penny
was sure to have
a fi
t. M
aybe Kevin, too. Suzanna debated whether to leave it on the list, crossed it off, and added it back again.
The house was much too big for her now that she was the only one rattling around in it.
She looked up from the paper.
What else c
ould she get rid of?
S
ell Brad’s Mercedes
. She never drove it. She really only needed her van,
even though it
was
five years old
. What was the point of keeping the newer, fancier
car
?
She could only drive one at a time, and both kids had their own wheels.
Suzanna studied herself in the mirror
then stood and backed
up to the door
to
see her legs and feet.
Her ankles had always been trim. Perhaps if she did more walking
…
hiking
would be better. Something that got her heart pumping.
Circling Lake Harriet every day might help, and she’d always enjoyed walki
ng with friends. If Margaret would
n’t walk with her, perhaps
she’d ask her neighbor Eva
. She pulled her skirt
above her knees
and stared at her legs. They were ok
ay
, too.
Walk more
, she wrote—around Lake Harriet, at least three times a week.
Suzanna surveyed her list. Brad’s closet, her weight, the house, Brad’s car, walking. What about his practice? His law partners had been so good to her
, but she had to talk to them about selling it and they weren’t going to wait forever
.
I’ve got to get off the dime and make a decision about the practice.
George had wanted to talk to her about that, but she’d never got around to meeting with him. He and Lloyd deserved to know her preference.
She
wrote
an arrow next to the notation about Brad’s practice
…
First on
the list.
“I
’ll
do that as soon as I’m back,” s
he
murmur
ed. “What else? Maybe something new
, something I’ve never done
—
not just new
clothes.”
Buy a dog
, she wrote and smiled
. With
Penny
in her own apartment and Kevin at the frat house, a dog might be fun, a companion. But did she dare? A puppy or one already trained? A dog might be a nice distraction
and walking partner, someone to love who would love her back, no strings attached
.
“It’
ll prove to
the kids
that I’m moving on.” She tried to sound firm.
What else? She put down her pen and wiggled her wedding ring, a gesture she’d
found herself doing a lot lately
. She had worn the simple gold band
and the small diamond engagement ring
for such a long time.
A little over twenty-five
years. She looked back at the
mirror.
When had she stopped being herself? When had she become
a
wife and mother, no longer
also
her own person? She couldn’t remember when she hadn’t thought of them
first. Most of the time, Brad made the decisions for her. Even the
cruise had been the
kids’
idea—
Penny
’s
, anyway. Her blond
daughter
,
so beautiful
and
self-assured at
twenty-four
, so assertive
. Penny
was so like her father
.
But Kevin had agreed.
“Think of it this way, Mom.
You’ve always wanted to go on a cruise. Now you can do that. Dad isn’t
here to say no
.”
She
had
smiled at her son, brushing an unruly lock of his dark hair out of his brown eyes
, just like his maternal grandfather
.
H
e had always been more like her …
in loo
ks and in how he treated others:
gentler, more giv
ing. “Yes, I guess you’re right,
both of you. All right. I’ll go.”
Suzanna put do
wn her pen and stood up again.
Time for me to find out who I am
again
.
She ripped
the list from the pad of paper, folded
it
then
tucked
it into her purse with a sigh. It was time to dress for dinner.
Suzanna entered the bar.
She saw Hal, one of her tablemates.
He was
talking with the bartender when she walked up to him
,
wearing
the dark evening dress
Penny
had picked out for her, saying
she looked good in it, slimmer. The d
angly earrings
she’d selected made her feel adventurous
. Hal winked at her and she smiled back.
“You make me look good, Suzanna,” he boomed and he leaned over to deposit a
sloppy
kiss on her cheek. “What would you like to drink before dinner?”
She allowed him to escort her to a table in the darkened bar. Nearby, a couple
were locked in an embrace
. Honeymooners, she assumed
.
“Didn’t you say you were here post-funeral?” One of Hal’s
oversized paw
s covered her
hand
when she
glanc
ed
at him
.
Without waiting for a reply, he added,
“
So
I guess
this is your chance to jump
into the dating scene again, right?”
“I’m out of practice for that sort of thing, Hal.”
“Well, how about I introduce you to it?” He leaned forward as if to kiss her. She
started to move
out of reach
.
“I’m not quite ready for that.”
But he seemed not to hear her and pulled her into a boozy embrace b
efore she could escape, planting
a
too-wet kiss on her mouth.
She
tried to smile at him, wondering what to say next, and wa
s relieved when their dinner sea
ting was announced.
“Come on,
girl
. They’re calling our table. It’s time to sit
with the Cap’n of this tub.”
Together, they walked into the dining room.
Three othe
r couples were seated with the c
aptain, who engaged them in pleasan
t conversation through dinner. When the small combo began to play, the c
aptain leaned toward Suzanna. “Would you care to dance?”
“I haven’t done much of that for more years than I want to count.
I’d hate to kick you in the ankle or ruin that shine on your shoes.”
He pulled her seat out for her.
“Humor me. I was thinking more in terms of
a casual stroll than a fast fox-
trot.”
She let him lead her onto the dance floor, pleased that he
had asked her
to dance
, toying with the thought that he might think she was
attractive, wondering how
her dinner partner
felt about her dancing with the dignified
officer
in his white uniform
. But Hal was laughing with a group of men at a nearby table
.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the captain said
, “Got to keep up appearances, you know. My passengers are supposed to be happy with me—and having a good time. If you look unhappy, you’ll ruin my reputation.”
You care about appearances? Are you another Brad?
“Your reputation is safe with me.” She sighed, and
tried to concentrate
on the music, willing it
to soothe her hurt feelings.
They danced the rest of the number in silence. He thanked her and approached another woman for the next dance.
Suzanna resumed her seat. While she sipped the remains of her ice water, she looked up when she heard Hal’s booming voice. Thinking he was going to ask her to dance, she p
ushed back her chair and p
r
epared to rise from the table. But i
nstead of approaching her, he helped another woman out of her chair and took her in his arms.
“Didn’t you say you were getting over your divorce, Hannah
? H
ow about
I introduce you to
the dating scene?” They moved onto the dance floor.
So much for H
al, the bad kisser with the pot
belly.
Minutes later,
Suzanna said her good
byes to the other couples at the table.
She wandered onto the deck, watching the moon
rise as it shone on the sea. The phosphorescence from the wake of the ship added sparkle to the water as the big ship
surged forward, propelled by the steady heartbeat of its humming engines
.
She thought of the list she had made.
“No time’s better than now,”
she said. B
efore she could change her mind, she pulled off her ring
s
and slipped
them
into her purse.
“I suspect there’s a reason you did that.”
Suzanna whirled around.
A woman with white hair stood nearby, leaning heavily on a cane. The old
er woman
reminded Suzanna of her grandmother.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.
Thirty years ago, I did something like that—but I dumped the giver of my ring
s
first.
Was that the order you used?”