His heart counted the seconds with its beats. Without warning, the door swung open. There stood Marienne, dripping wet, wrapped in a huge plaid robe, shower still blasting in the background. She brought her tear-filled eyes up to meet his, holding his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, then fell into his arms, sobbing. He held her as she cried, kissing the top of her soaking wet head, never wanting to let her go.
Chapter Forty-Three
As if the day wasn’t difficult enough Marienne’s mother insisted on coming back to her house after the funeral. Marienne watched as Lois talked with guests, bemoaning the loss of a son-in-law she had barely even known, repeatedly mentioning how hard it had been when her own husband had passed.
To make matters worse Lois insisted on gravitating toward Ella. Marienne bristled every time she saw her mother even get near Ella and immediately intervened. She didn’t want Lois alone with her for a second. The thought made Marienne ill.
When people started to leave, it became apparent that Lois had no intention of going anywhere, and Marienne decided it was time to tell her to go.
“Daniel,” she said, grateful he was there.
“Yeah.”
“Would you please take Ella to the park so I can say goodbye to everyone.” She glanced toward her mother. Daniel followed her eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to know that Ella is somewhere safe.”
“Okay,” he said. “But I’m not leaving you alone for long. We’ll be back in a little while.”
Marienne smiled a thank you and watched as he went to get Ella from the family room then escorted her out the front door, his hand clasping hers.
More people said their goodbyes and Marienne started putting away the remaining food, trying to give everyone the hint that it was time to leave. She wanted everyone gone, especially her mother, but even after the last guest left, Lois remained. Her stomach tensed into knots. The last thing she felt up to was a confrontation.
“I’m sure you want to be heading home now,” Marienne said, as politely as she could manage.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What?” She felt her shoulders lock in place.
“You need me. I know what it’s like to be a widow. You’ll need help.”
“I’ll be fine.” Marienne tried to keep the quivering out of her voice. Her heart pounded.
“You’re being very unrealistic.”
“I’m not unrealistic or ridiculous. I’m quite serious. I’ll be fine, and I think you should go now.”
As she said the words, she heard the front door open and Daniel and Ella walked back into the house.
“Ella’s tired. She wants to watch TV,” Daniel said. “I’ll get her set up in the family room.”
“Thanks,” Marienne said then turned back to Lois. “Look, I have to take care of Ella, and I need you to please leave now.”
“Don’t be stupid. You can’t take care of that child all by yourself. Why don’t I take her home with me.”
Marienne could feel her pulse in her ears. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice rose uncontrollably. “You don’t even know her.”
“That’s your doing. Now I’ll get to know her.”
“You’re not taking my daughter anywhere,” she said, her voice shrill. She started to shake.
“Everything okay in here?” Daniel entered the room and moved to Marienne’s side.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Marienne said. “My mother was just leaving.”
“Fine.” Lois stared straight into her eyes. “Get Ella ready, and we’ll go.”
“Over my dead body.” Marienne kept her voice low, but serious.
“You’re being very unreasonable, Marienne. You can’t possibly take care of that little girl alone.”
“Excuse me,” Daniel said. “I’ll have you know that Marienne most certainly can take care of Ella, and she won’t be alone. They have tons of people who care about them and will help with whatever they may need.”
“And who the hell are you?” Lois asked.
“I’m one of those friends. And I have watched your daughter be a mother to Ella since the day she was born. She’s the most capable parent I’ve ever seen. And right now I believe she’s asking you to please leave her house.”
Lois’ eyes flashed at Daniel. “I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I know exactly who I am. I’m someone who’s going to be here to support and help Marienne and Ella. I’m far more concerned with who you think you are. Marienne has made it clear that she wants you to go and yet here you are, threatening to take her daughter and upsetting her, in her own home, on the day of her husband’s funeral.”
Lois turned to Marienne. “You can’t be serious. I’ll stay here then, for a few weeks. You can’t manage everything yourself.”
“Yes, I can,” Marienne said, the conviction returning to her voice. “You paid your respects, now I’m asking you again, please leave.”
Lois looked from Marienne to Daniel then huffed. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me for help when everything falls apart, which it will.”
“I won’t,” Marienne said. “I can promise that.”
“Good, because I won’t be there to bail you out. This is your chance, and you’re blowing it.”
“She won’t need bailing out,” Daniel said. “She’s going to be fine.”
Lois glared at both of them then turned on her heel, grabbed her purse off the kitchen chair, and stomped out the front door, not even stopping to say goodbye to Ella.
Marienne stared at Daniel, flabbergasted.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” she said, unable to take her eyes off him.
“What?” His brow furrowed.
“I don’t think anyone has ever dared to talk to my mother like that. You’re amazing.”
“No, just honest. I didn’t say one word that isn’t true. You and Ella have lots of people who care about you, and you are the best mother ever. You’re going to be fine, and I’ll be here to help you, no matter what.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The box from Frank’s office had been sitting in the foyer, untouched, for almost two weeks and Marienne decided it was time to open it. She checked to make sure Ella was sleeping, then carried the large carton to Frank’s desk.
You can do this. It’s just a box of things.
She picked up a pair of scissors and held her breath as she dragged them across the top to slit the tape.
The box sprung open as though it had a life of its own. Frank’s Eagle’s sweatshirt had been crushed into the package and without the tape holding the flaps shut the sweatshirt popped out. She ran her hand across it. She knew it well and hadn’t realized that he kept it at the office. Her eyes filled as she laid the shirt on the desk.
Layers of newspaper separated the picture frames that had graced his desk. A wedding photo. Ella’s birth announcement and footprints. Her newest picture in the I LOVE DADDY frame she’d given him for his first Father’s Day. She struggled to swallow, her throat tightened at the thought of the emptiness Father’s Day would always bring for Ella.
She unloaded the rest. His mug. Two leather bound planners. A few books. A tie. The crumpled paper bag at the bottom of the box looked like part of the packing material, but when she moved it aside, she realized the bag wasn’t empty. She opened it and reached inside.
Trojan ribbed? We don’t use condoms.
Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest as her mind began to race.
We haven’t needed condoms since before we conceived Ella.
She flipped the box over, looking for an expiration date, then realized she had no idea how long condoms lasted. An expiration date wouldn’t tell her when they were purchased. A receipt would. She held her breath as she reached into the bag and extracted the thin strip of paper.
Her eyes took in his signature and the word Trojan as she scanned for the date. The breath left her body in a wordless rush. They’d been purchased one month ago.
She stared, reading it over and over. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears.
Two days before the accident.
She reached over and turned on his computer. Her body was numb. She didn’t know what she hoped to find, she wanted something, anything, that could offer an explanation.
His shortcuts appeared on the green desktop background.
Documents? Personal calendar?
As she debated where to start, a pop-up appeared on the lower right corner of the screen.
“You have received seven offline messages. Delete or Read Now?”
Her hand trembled as she clicked Read Now.
Received Thursday, 7:45 am. Seeing the date of the accident made her stomach twist further into knots.
SunnyDay: You’re late. I miss you.
8:04 am
SunnyDay: You’d better not be blowing me off. Cause if you are you know I won’t be blowing you at all for quite a while. *tapping foot*
8:20 am
SunnyDay: Ok, now I’m really pissed, you’re almost an hour late. I told my boss I’d be in by 10 today. You know he hates when I’m late!
8:24 am
SunnyDay: If you went straight to the office today I’m going to kill you!! You do realize that I have a job too right? If I find out you’re ignoring my calls we’re through.
9:00 am
SunnyDay: Your secretary hasn’t seen you yet today, so I’m going to assume you’re not at work. Where are you? Now I’m getting worried.
9:20 am
SunnyDay: If you’re not answering because I sounded bitchy I’m sorry. Really. Please call when you get this.
9:45 am
SunnyDay: I have to leave for work now. I’m really worried. Please, please, please don’t be mad, I just want to know that you’re okay. Call me. Soon. xoxo
Marienne couldn’t move. She could hardly breathe. The ringing phone startled her so much she knocked the mouse off the desk. It bounced across the wood floor, banging into the file cabinet with a clang. She stared at the phone. It was Daniel.
If I don’t pick up, he’ll be worried.
Her hand moved in slow motion as she pressed the talk button. She couldn’t speak.
“Hello?” Daniel’s voice came through the line.
She opened her mouth, but only a sigh escaped.
“Marienne?” he asked. “Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
Barely.
“You okay?”
“No.” The word caught in her throat.
“What can I do?” he asked. The sound of his voice made her want to curl up in his arms and cry. “You still there?”
“Can you watch Ella for me?”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Marienne hung up the phone and picked the mouse up off the floor. She clicked through the messenger history and up popped pages of old messages from SunnyDay. She scrolled, catching only words and dates.
Still tingling from this morning, when can you come again? …Call me, I’ve got Tuesday off…I had the dirtiest dream about you last night….I can still taste you…
Her stomach flipped over so fast she thought she might throw up. The message history dated back over two years.
Since I was pregnant. He’s been with her since I was pregnant.
The sound of Daniel tapping on the back door made her jump. She stumbled as she stood, her legs felt rubbery and weak.
Breathe,
she reminded herself as she walked to the door.
“Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“He was cheating on me.”
“What?”
“For years. There are messages. Hundreds of messages. And condoms. I’m so stupid.”
“Wait, are you sure?”
“Yes.” The sympathy in his eyes was more than she could bear. “I have to get out of here.” She brushed past him and grabbed her keys.
“I don’t think you should be driving. How about I get you a drink.” The concern in his voice made her more certain that she needed to be alone.
“I have to go,” she said, desperate to leave before the tears came.
“Marienne.” She heard him calling her name, but she kept moving, straight into the garage, into the car. He stood in the doorway as she backed out into the darkness.
****
Daniel scrubbed his hand through his hair as he listened to her car speed off.
Bugger.
He knew she shouldn’t be on the road in her frame of mind. He thought about going after her then remembered that Ella was sleeping upstairs. He closed the door to the garage. The kitchen was dark except for the glow from the light over the stove. The house was silent. He glanced down the hallway and saw the light coming from Frank’s office.
The box of Frank’s belongings was open on the floor, a clutter of newspapers around it. On the edge of the desk sat a box of condoms and a crumpled receipt. He rubbed his face with both hands. The monitor was still on, countless IM windows covered the screen. He pulled the desk chair closer and sat down.
Each message was worse than the one before.
Bloody wanker.
His nostrils flared as he imagined what it was like for Marienne to read them. Remembering the pain in her eyes made his stomach churn. He glanced out the window. No sign of her returning.