Stand Your Ground: A Novel (24 page)

“Tennis courts?” I exclaimed when Wyatt took me out by the pool and showed me the rest of the grounds.

“All for you.”

Wyatt saved the master bedroom suite for last, and when we stepped inside the already candlelit grand room with a circular bed that was as wide as the ocean, I almost cried.

“Who did this for us?” I asked.

His answer was a kiss on my forehead, and the way he held me, I knew that I was so loved. It was hard to hold my tears when he slowly unzipped my wedding dress, then unwrapped the fabric from my body as if I was the precious gift that he’d told me I was.

I trembled with anticipation because in the two years of our engagement, Wyatt still had never touched me in that way.

He had explained it to me: “You’re so precious. I want to honor you and save that wonderful moment for our wedding night.”

It had sounded weird then, but it felt so wonderful now. When we lay down on our bed, and Wyatt made slow, wondrous love to me, I knew for sure that waiting had been the best thing. These were moments to be remembered and treasured.

I was so blessed; an ordinary woman about to live an extraordinary life.

That had been an amazing night, though a few years later I came to understand that being Wyatt’s wife wasn’t what I thought it would be.

But what had remained from that time was the grandeur around me. I had this home, this money, this life. Could I go back to the way I used to live? There were lots of women who raised
their children alone. My mother had done it, though she hadn’t done it well. But I wasn’t my mother. I had an associate’s degree. So I could get more than a minimum-wage job and take care of myself and Billy.

As I thought of him, I heard the delight in his laughter rising up from the pool.

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine what life would be like with just me and Billy. But all that came to my mind when I thought about my son was that night.

Just as I adjusted the blanket over Billy, a sudden pop cracked through the silence of the late night and made me pause. I listened to see if I’d hear it again.

Nothing.

So I let the sound slip from my thoughts, kissed my son’s cheek, and tiptoed out of his room.

My first thought was to go to my bedroom. But then I wondered if I could entice Wyatt to have a glass of wine with me. To celebrate our anniversary, since he hadn’t remembered.

So I moved toward the stairs. And at the top of the landing, I stopped. Why was the front door open?

Sighing again, I wished so much that I could go back to that night and not see what I saw. Because now, I didn’t know what to do. Though that wasn’t completely true; I knew what was right.

I was a mother, I had a son, and I wanted to lay my head down every night and sleep in peace.

So I had to do right by Mrs. Johnson. I had to do right for her son and set the example for my own.

Billy and I would be just fine.

And to prove it, I rushed to my side of our bed, grabbed my
iPad, opened an app, then typed a list of everything I would need to live on my own with Billy: rent, food, utilities. I’d need child care, someone to take care of my son while I worked. And a new car because I was sure that Wyatt would see to it that when I left, I left with what I’d brought with me. Which meant that I’d need clothes, too.

I typed in numbers, added them up, and wondered where in the world I would get a job that would cover expenses of five thousand dollars a month. I deducted a couple of things, brought down the cost of my car, the insurance, and even lowered food to just two hundred dollars a month for the two of us, figuring that I could go without a lunch or two.

Still—over three thousand dollars?

I could do it! That was my thought, that was my hope, at least.

Then, something stirred inside of me, taking my breath away and my hand moved to my belly.

It could be just the stress of what was going on that had me so sick, that had my irregular period even more erratic.

Looking down at those numbers, I thought about what another child would mean. Many of these numbers would double. And what about health care? I’d have to have insurance for me and my babies. Wouldn’t that cost a fortune?

It seemed like so much, but didn’t I have to do this? But do it for whom? Would doing right for Mrs. Johnson mean that I was doing wrong for my own children?

Children. That was so different from just one child.

Switching over to the Internet, I signed in to my doctor’s portal, then searched for her next available appointment.

Tomorrow. At two o’clock.

I hadn’t
expected anything that soon, but maybe this was a sign. Before I could change my mind, I logged in my information, noted the reason for my visit, set the appointment, then closed my iPad.

Going to see my doctor was better than taking a home test. More accurate and there was no chance of Wyatt finding out.

I
took a breath before I knocked on Wyatt’s office door, then stepped inside. He was stretched back as far as his executive chair allowed, his eyes unmoving, staring at the television.

When he hadn’t been outside at the pool, he’d been inside, sitting here, catching every bit of the news. Again.

“Wyatt . . .”

He held up his hand, stopping me, and I was forced to do what I hadn’t yet done. I glanced at the television and saw the man that I’d seen almost a week ago. The caption below his image said:
Tyrone and Janice Johnson.

I took a tiny step closer and squinted so that I could get a clearer picture of her.

Janice. That was her name, and she was my reason.

“We are going to do this every single day until an arrest is made,” Tyrone Johnson said. “And if the powers that be in Montgomery County are expecting to wear us down by allowing time to pass, they need to know that won’t happen. Don’t mistake our peacefulness for passiveness. There will be justice for our son. Wyatt Spencer will be arrested. That’s all we’re asking. For justice . . .
through the system. But the system needs to start working. Because we have had enough.”

Then, the crowd chanted, “Justice, justice. Enough is enough!”

Wyatt muted the television, but his eyes were still on the TV as he spoke. “I don’t know why that . . . man and all those others have to constantly say my name.”

My inside voice said: Because you killed his son. Aloud, I said, “Sweetheart, I just found out that I have a doctor’s appointment.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I have an appointment. With my gynecologist. For a Pap smear.”

He peered at me as if he were seeing straight through to my lie. “You just had a Pap smear a few months ago.”

I wondered if this was normal. Did all husbands watch their wives so closely that they knew when they had their gynecological exams?

I nodded. “Yes, but Dr. Leach just called this morning. She wants to do it again.”

He swiveled the chair so that his whole body faced me, as if now I deserved all of his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, needing to assuage his worries. I paused, trying to determine what would be the best lie to keep Wyatt from calling my doctor and blowing this all up.

My decision was to say, “There was a problem in the lab and some of the tests were lost. So she wants to do mine again—just to have something for the record. She knows nothing’s wrong . . .”

The way he shook his head I wondered if the other lie would’ve been better. The lie that said there were some abnormalities and she wanted to test me again.

But with all that was going on in our lives, I didn’t want to put
something like that out there in the atmosphere. Plus if Wyatt believed there was a problem, he’d want to go to the doctor with me.

He said, “I hope she’s not going to charge you for this visit.”

I was amazed and relieved that money was his only concern.

“Of course not,” I said, rather than reminding him that his insurance was so stellar, we didn’t even have to pay for office visits. “It’s just going to be a quick in and out.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Newt doesn’t want us going out of the house.”

“I know, but I was thinking that I’ll have one of the security guards go with me. He’ll drive me, and if you want, I’ll even have him wait in the reception area while I have the test.”

He thought about it for a moment.

I added, “I’ll be fine; no one knows what I look like.” Then I shrugged. “And even if they did, would anyone be waiting for me at my doctor’s office?”

I needed Wyatt to believe that this was no big deal. Because I had to get to the doctor. I had to know today so that I could put an end to my indecision.

A few more pensive moments and then, “All right. I’ll send both guards with you.”

“That’s not necessary, Wyatt. I really want one guard to be here with you.”

He grinned. “You’re worried about me, huh?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t worried about Wyatt. Everyone knew what he could do with a gun. My concern was for anyone, like the postman, who might by mistake come to our door, and who might then, after an encounter with my husband, end up dead.

My husband needed supervision.

Wyatt reached out his hand, and when I took it, he pulled me
onto his lap. I paused for just a moment before I laid my head against his chest and sighed.

I lived for these moments with Wyatt. When he reminded me with no words that he really did love me. He held me close, for the first time since this madness started. Then, when he kissed me, leaned back, and said, “Do you really have to go to the doctor now?” I wanted to take back all of my lies. Just tell him the whole truth. Then go upstairs so that we could make love and figure this all out together.

But I couldn’t back away now. So with a sigh, I told him, “I have to go to the doctor.”

He nodded. “I know you do. Maybe when you come back.”

I had no idea what life would look like when I returned. Had no idea what I would know or what I would do. So I just wrapped my arms around him and told him that I loved him. Because I really did.

When I stood, he said, “I’ll have Andre go with you. The black guard. No one will bother you if you’re with him. What time are you going?”

“Now. I want to do this and get back to Billy . . . and you.”

He gave me that grin again as he pushed himself up from the desk. “I love it when you show me that you care.”

“Of course I do,” I said, uttering some of my first truthful words of the day. “I really do care about you and love you.”

He kissed my cheek, and as he left to set up my ride, I checked in on Billy before I grabbed my purse and jumped into the SUV that was a permanent fixture in our driveway.

As Andre took off, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried to rest my mind. But, of course, my thoughts would not stop.

This time, though, my thoughts were all about the doctor and this baby that I might be carrying.

As scared as I was, thinking about being pregnant was the only thing that made me smile. I had no idea how Wyatt would feel. Which is why I couldn’t tell him until I knew for sure. I couldn’t tell him until I knew what I was going to do.

“Mrs. Spencer?”

I’d been so deep into my thoughts that I hadn’t realized we had arrived. Andre was already standing at the open door, holding out his hand. He helped me out, then locked the doors with the remote.

But when he turned to follow me into the medical complex, I shook my head. “Just wait for me down here.”

He shook his head. “Mr. Spencer told me not to leave your side.”

“Really?” I frowned as if I were confused. “I don’t think he meant that literally.” I leaned closer and whispered, “I’m going to see my gynecologist and I know you’re not interested in seeing my legs hanging up high in stirrups.”

His eyes and mouth widened at the same time. “Uh . . . I’ll wait . . . down here.”

With a smile, I rushed into the building, but inside when I punched the elevator button for the fifth floor, all I did was lean back and pray. The only thing was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to ask God—did I want to be pregnant or not?

I greeted Dr. Leach’s receptionist, signed in, but before I could even sit down, the nurse told me that the doctor was ready for me.

There had never been a time when I’d come to my doctor’s office and seen her so quickly. Yet another sign, though I had no idea what any of these signs meant.

Two minutes after I stepped into the examination room, my doctor walked in. After her greeting, she said, “Your husband called me.”

“Oh, God!” I didn’t mean to say that aloud.

Dr. Leach held up her hand. “I didn’t say a thing—doctor/patient privilege. But he kept asking about new charges for a Pap smear. I told him that I would discuss it all with you.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, so grateful that she’d said the right thing to Wyatt.

“So, you think you’re pregnant?”

“I think so.”

She nodded. “And you don’t want your husband to know because . . .” Then she paused as if she wanted me to fill in the blank.

But what was I supposed to say? That I wasn’t sure if I would ever tell him about this baby because I was thinking about going to the police and telling the truth, so Wyatt might not ever see this baby anyway?

I said nothing, of course, so the doctor finished her sentence: “Because of what you’re going through.”

I nodded, though I hadn’t thought about my doctor knowing what was going on. Of course, everyone in the country knew.

“I really am sorry about what’s happening with you and your husband. I didn’t even put it together until I heard about the Cheesesteak Castles.” She paused. “How are you doing?”

“We’re hanging in there.”

“Well, if you’re pregnant, you know you’re going to have to watch the stress, right?”

“That’s why I wanted to know. Know for sure.”

“How late are you?”

“About a week, though you know I’ve never been regular. I didn’t
have a period last month, but I’ve never skipped two months.”