Never Smile at Strangers (16 page)

ONE GLASS OF wine turned into two, then three.

After the first glass, the two ended up moving from the kitchen table to the couch. Rachel asked Mac about his relationship with Haley, and he told her how strange she’d been acting since Tiffany disappeared, and how she’d pushed him away.

“That’s horrible,” Rachel said, her fingers going to her wrist, then remembered it was bare. Where could her bracelet be? she wondered. “Relationships are difficult enough without all of the stress she’s going through. Maybe she’ll feel differently once Tiffany’s found.”

Mac shrugged. “If she ever is.”

Rachel had the urge to talk to him about Tom. To ask him if he’d heard anything about the affair. If he’d heard their names spoken in reference to Tiffany’s disappearance. But, of course, she didn’t. It would be inappropriate. Even more so than having a few drinks alone with the young man.

Several moments later, Mac lifted his half-empty wine glass in front of his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank this much wine before,” he grinned, his words slurring ever so slightly. “I’m a beer guy.”

“Going to your head?”

He nodded.

She was relieved to see that he was finally relaxing around her. At first he had seemed tentative, almost cautious in her presence, something she chalked up to their age difference. But finally, he seemed at peace. He even seemed as though he was enjoying himself.

They talked until two o’clock in the morning, until they’d finished a pot of coffee and Mac felt clear-headed enough to make it home. The grass remained uncut, but it was such a small price to pay for the hours she was able to forget about her problems. She had had a nice time.

In fact, it was the best conversation she could remember having with anyone for nearly a year. She had almost forgotten what it was like to have a decent adult conversation.

ON SATURDAY EVENING, Rachel and Mac sat on the couch, finishing up a bottle of Merlot. Tom and the kids weren’t due to return until the next afternoon, and when Mac again came by to cut the lawn, she’d insisted they sit and talk again.

Mac had seemed mildly hesitant when Rachel again invited him in, but his hesitance quickly dissipated and the two found much to talk about between the hours of four and six o’clock.

After the last drop of wine had been poured, Rachel failed to remember her problems or fears. . . or the nagging feeling that told her that this new friendship with Mac was inappropriate. After all, Mac was of age to do anything he wanted. And he wasn’t a student.

She just focused on the way Mac looked at her and how handsome he was. She had always thought him to be especially good-looking, but only lately had she noticed how much of a man the boy had become. She thought it strange how relationship troubles could do that to a woman. Make them notice such things.

Plus, Mac understood what she was going through with Tom. He’d listened intently to every word she’d said.
Really
listened. He’d sat, silently, just taking everything in. He’d been interested in what she was going through. . . even angry that Tom had been treating her the way he had. Being understood gave her relief—she’d
desperately
needed someone to understand.

Rachel set down the empty wine bottle. “Shall I uncork another?” she asked, grabbing for her bracelet, then remembering yet again that it wasn’t there.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t be doing this, Mrs. . . uh, Rachel.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just—”

“No,” he interrupted. “It’s not that. It’s because I gave Haley a lecture about not drinkin’ so much. She’s goin’ through a really hard time and is hitting the booze too hard. Even though we’re
not together
anymore, I’m still really worried about her and this kinda makes me feel like a hypocrite, you know?”

Rachel wasn’t sure what to say.

“Besides, I really oughta take a shower,” he said. “I could come back after—”

“Don’t be silly,” Rachel exclaimed, patting the air. “You can’t drive in this condition. Just take a shower here. You can change into something of Tom’s.”

After a little more prodding, Mac took the shower. Then, afterward, mid-way through their second bottle of wine, they began to kiss. In her drunken state, Rachel was unsure who had kissed who first. All she knew was that it felt better than anything had in a long while.

The first kisses were clumsy and wet, but also warm and exciting. Rachel tasted wine and a hint of spearmint chewing gum on Mac’s tongue. Then, she found herself leading him into the back of the house, to her bedroom.

There, she ripped back the purple comforter, unbuttoned the pair of shorts Mac was borrowing from Tom, and pulled the zipper down. She began unbuttoning her own blouse and watched Mac as he stared at her. He seemed very nervous. Thinking it was sweet, she gently pushed him down, and pressed her body against his.

They kissed for a long while, their mouths hot and soft. The temperature inside her chest and between her legs spiraled as she kissed his neck and ran her hands through his short, thick hair.

She stroked him.

And his breathing grew louder.

Pulling Tom’s t-shirt from Mac’s back, she gazed at his wide, tanned shoulders and muscular abdomen. She ran her finger across his nipple and watched it stiffen.

These days, Tom was too quick, too removed. As though it was a chore, as if the experience was just his own. Like she wasn’t there, or at least didn’t need to be.

She thought about Mac’s ex-girlfriend and wondered if he, too, was thinking about her. How different was her body from 19-year-old Haley’s? Naked, did she seem that much older?

He rose above her and threaded his fingers through her hair. “You sure you want to do this?” he whispered.

“I’m sure,” Rachel whispered back. And she was. Why not? Tom had done it with someone outside of the marriage. Why couldn’t she? Revenge, she thought, would help mend her heart.

Mac’s touch was soothing. Why would Haley give up someone this lovely, this caring? Mac was the whole package: manly but still warm, gentle. The things Tom would never be again, hadn’t quite been in the first place.

Mac’s hands were all over her. And she was pleasantly surprised by how hard he was. She stroked him harder, faster. Wondering if his girlfriend had been sensitive to his needs, she lowered herself, her face parallel to his chest, then his stomach. . . his hips. Then, finally arriving at her destination, she made him moan even louder.

***

THE SECOND TIME was different, less tender. Rachel could tell he was much less nervous and began to wonder if he’d been holding out the first time. Maybe he’d been thinking of her as a thirty-something year old, a novelty, and now he realized that age was just what it was, an unforgiving number.

He was better than Tom had ever been. He took more time, moved with much more precision.

Rachel now lay with her neck extended. Mac pinned her hands behind her shoulders. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, then worked his way down to her chest. He stayed there for a while, his tongue tickling her cleavage. Her nipples. The heat and desire was intense. As intense, if not more so, than their first time.

He rose to kiss her again and she wrapped her arms around his back. His skin was smoother than Tom’s, even when Tom was his age. Tighter, more supple, more tan. His breath was now warm and heavy next to her ear. His breath smelled of gum again, always smelled of gum. When had he chewed it? Why hadn’t she seen him stick it in his mouth? He started to move lower and Rachel laughed.

His mouth was suddenly by her ear again. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,
more
than okay.” she said, having no idea why she’d laughed. She hadn’t meant to. It had something to do with the cloud the wine had made in her head. The cloud that cushioned her thoughts, dulled their razor-like talons.

Mac lowered his body, kissed her abdomen, and slowly worked his way down below. Using long, hard strokes of his tongue, he thoroughly explored her with his mouth. When she began to squirm, unable to stand it any longer, he lowered his hips against hers, and entered her.

Afterward, they slept on their sides, their legs entangled, Mac’s big arm draped over her. They slept long and hard. Rachel’s sleep, for once, was peaceful and uninterrupted. Her dreams were of rain clouds. Tender, cleansing, big billowy white clouds. And she wanted nothing more than for them to just swallow her up.

She awoke to a ray of sunlight dancing across her eyelids. Mac was snoring softly, his smooth back to her. She sat up and turned to face the window. She startled.

Someone was looking in.

It was Tom.

BY THE TIME Rachel pulled on her robe and made it out of the bedroom, Tom was in the kitchen, opening a cabinet. He casually pulled out a glass and took his time filling it with water.

“I guess we’re even,” he muttered.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I have a feeling we’re
far
from even, Tom.”

The two stood in the kitchen in silence: Tom drinking the water he’d just poured, and she staring, at a loss for words. She waited for the guilt. . . remorse. . . to hit her. But there was none. If anything, she felt better than she had in a long time. Sleeping with Mac had opened her eyes in an odd sort of way. He’d been kind to her. Gentle, caring. She felt desirable and feminine again and realized that the lack of desire in this marriage hadn’t been her fault.

But what
was
her fault was that all of her focus had been on Tom and somewhere along the line she’d stopped loving herself.

“You must be wondering why I’m back early? And without the kids?” Tom said.

Yes, she had.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?” Rachel asked, folding the robe over her thighs and taking a seat at the table.

“Well, seeing that I come home to find you bedding a 16-year-old—”

“Twenty-one,” she interrupted. “Two years older than the little whore you were fucking.”

Tom smirked. “Fair enough. Anyway, I came home so we could have a discussion. One that’s long overdue. “But now,” he said, filling his glass again, “I’ll just let my lawyer handle the discussions. Fair enough?”

Rachel didn’t react. Without emotion, she said: “You just do that, Tom. And tell him to expedite things. I’ve wasted way too much time as it is.”

And she meant it.

***

SEVEN HOURS LATER, Rachel dropped to all fours on the ceramic tile. She’d dropped a glass and it now lay in jagged pieces in front of the sink. She hurriedly picked up the bits, tossing them in the garbage can. The kids had just returned home and she didn’t want them to see that she had been drinking.

She knew the trick to drinking was knowing when to stop, but she’d been unable to master the trick her whole life. The only way she didn’t drink too much was when she didn’t drink period. She wasn’t even sure why she drank today. She’d felt so strong after the conversation with Tom.

The drinking. It was a problem she would deal with soon. But one thing at a time.

She was shaking out the blue hounds tooth rug when Kelsey walked in and stared at her.

“What?” Rachel asked, defensively.

Kelsey had been acting oddly. More odd than usual. She’d been hanging out in the living room with her brother when usually she escaped to her room unless
forced
to spend time in the common areas.

Had Tom told her anything about what he’d seen? He was a pig, but surely he wouldn’t do that.

Kelsey moved closer. She eyed the open garbage can and the shards of glass that lay on top.

Rachel readied herself for a quick comeback should Kelsey remark about her drinking again. Lately, that had been Kelsey’s argument of choice.

“I saw a man in the backyard, Mom,” Kelsey said finally.

“When?” she asked, dropping the rug.

“The other night.” Kelsey took a seat on a barstool. “And it was really weird. He was looking at our house. He, like, looked at it for a really long time.”

“Where were you?”

Her daughter hesitated for a quick moment. “In the woods. I was coming home and I saw him in the yard.”

“Why were you in the—” Rachel stopped. Kelsey was talking to her for the first time in weeks. She couldn’t put her on the defense. She needed to know about this man. “Did you recognize him?”

“No. It was too dark. All I could tell was that he was tall,” her daughter said, rubbing the back of one of her arms. “Mom, this guy was creepy. He really scared me.”

Rachel reached for the phone on the wall. She was livid. She was calling the sheriff again. She’d file a lawsuit against the department for not doing more.

“Mom?”

“What darling?”

“I, uh. . .” she said, then stopped. She gazed into Rachel’s eyes, her eyes almost soft.

Almost.

“There’s something else.”

Rachel noted that the usual anger in Kelsey’s eyes had vanished. In its place was what appeared to be confusion.

Rachel put the phone down. Was this about Mac? So, Tom
had
told her. The big shit! Suddenly she felt ashamed.

“What baby? Go ahead, you can tell me,” she said, preparing herself.

Kelsey’s voice was gentler than it had been for over a year when she next spoke. “Why are you staying with Dad?”

Rachel blinked. “What?”

“I know what he did.
Everyone
knows what he did, Mom. And he treats you like rat shit. He doesn’t come home. He won’t even
talk
decent to you. So why do you stay with him?”

Rachel was at a loss for words.

Kelsey dug her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and looked down at the floor so she didn’t have to meet her mother’s eyes. “You used to be so strong, Mom. What happened to you?”

***

RACHEL WATCHED THE blood swirl down the drain. There was a lot of it. Too much.

She’d cut the inside of her hand picking up a missed sliver from a broken wine glass. Now she was running cool water over it. The sheriff was on his way over to take a report from her and Kelsey. All the windows in the house had been checked and she’d instructed the kids to keep the doors locked. But she still felt they were unsafe in the house.

She was ashamed. Kelsey’s words had stung her worse than she’d ever been stung. . . even by Tom. She was right. Rachel
had
lost herself and she was no longer as strong as she’d once been.

No wonder the family had grown so far apart.

And now there was this strange man. He
wasn’t
a product of her imagination. She had to protect her children. She had to do so many things differently.

She quickly bandaged her hand, then picked up the phone. Her hand trembled as she dialed a phone number she hadn’t dialed in a long while. After a few moments, someone picked up on the other end.

“Mom? It’s Rachel,” she said, sniffing back tears. “The kids and I. . . we’re going to come out to Phoenix for a while, if that’s okay.”