The Good Enough Husband (14 page)

“Thank you,” she said, using her finger to wipe away the tears.

“I know my parents can be a pain. Deep down they only want us to be happy. I’ve always supported you in whatever you wanted to do. I really thought that you’d enjoy real estate and it would be a good way for you to use your talents while we made a family. I’m sorry I was blind to your unhappiness.” She could feel her resolve weakening. Ben felt more like a figment of her imagination than the real person she’d married right in front of her.

Hannah resisted the urge to massage her temples. “What’s in the folder?”

He handed it to her. There were a couple of printed sheets inside. She moved by the lamp to read them more clearly. The first page was a receipt from a domain registration company. She had to read the words twice before it sunk into her brain. He’d gotten her two domain names, one for her music career, and the other for her photography. She’d foolishly abandoned these so long ago. The other paper was a receipt from a web designer. He’d prepaid someone a hefty sum to build two websites for her.

She sank into the other chair. “Wow. This is… I don’t know what to say.”

Michael looked directly at her, arousal clear in the breath flaring his nostrils like a bull in heat. “I have an idea of how you could thank me.”

Hannah couldn’t figure a way out of this. She could only delay the inevitable for so long. “Let me…” she gestured toward their bathroom. Escaping behind the bathroom door, she turned the fan on its highest setting. Hannah sat on the toilet lid, face in her hands. No matter how she racked her brain, she couldn’t think of a way to get out of having sex with her husband.

She could do this one last time. Women had been through worse. Hannah pulled open the drawer next to the sink and pulled out a hermetically sealed tube of lubricant. The folks at the fertility center had given her a handful of sample Pre-Seed tubes to help Michael’s sperm swim their way to her egg. She’d started using it every time they had sex because it made it hurt a lot less. She scrounged for scissors, snipped the top, and went to work.

By the time she got out of the bathroom, Michael was nude on the bed covers. Attempting to make the room more romantic, he’d lit a few candles. Lying propped against the pillows, naked as the day he was born, her husband’s erection jutted from the curly blond thatch that surrounded it. He always did this preening di
splay. Like she should be salivating at the sight of a nude man. He held out his hand and she let him grab hers, pulling her on the bed next to him.

Michael reared up. He positioned her in the middle of the bed, pillows propping up her head and rear. He always made love to her this way, as if she were a porn star on display for his pleasure. He pulled off her t-shirt and jeans, dropping them to the floor without a care.

“Lift up,” he implored.

She did as he said and he unceremoniously unhooked her bra. He slid her panties down and off her legs. He thrust a hand b
etween them, rubbing at her clit, his fingers like sandpaper against her most sensitive flesh. Hannah pulled his hand from between her legs and placed it on her hip hoping he’d get the message.

9

Eight days without Hannah and Ben was stir crazy. He couldn’t fathom how he’d ever thought solitude was a good idea. So here he was in Eureka with Chase Edgerson, shooting pool in the local bar.

He missed an easy shot and Chase looked at him, coolly apprai
sing. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ben grunted, watching Chase sink ball after ball. The money he’d laid neatly on the side of the table quickly made its way into Chase’s pocket.

“Woman trouble. How did someone find you up in your Lost Coast monastery?”

Ben ignored him, racking the balls and breaking again. Back into the groove, he made a few shots, then missed. He hadn’t lost to Chase or anyone at Ragg’s Rack Room in two years. His hand eye coordination was legendary up here. But for some reason he
was having his ass handed to him tonight. Maybe too many small animal surgeries had blunted his accuracy. He flexed his fingers. Cracked his knuckles.

“She was a patient’s owner.”

Chase pocketed more of Ben’s cash. “If this keeps up, I’m going to have the down payment for that sweet little Challenger I’ve got my eye on.”

Ben quit when he got down to his last twenty. Out here in the country, he always kept a little something in his wallet in case of emergency. They moved to a booth on one side of the room, and ordered a couple of draught beers. The Sacramento Kings were playing silently on the big screen.

“What’s her name?” Chase asked, his gaze trained on the screen.

“Hannah.”

“Why are you with me instead of her?”

“She lives in Orange County.”

Chase reluctantly tore his gaze from the heavily endowed twenty-year-old woman selling corn chips on the big TV screen. “Fess up.”

Ben sketched in the story of how he’d met Hannah while she was up here figuring out life. “And she’s single?” Ben nodded. “So was it a fuck and forget it, or are you angling for something more?”

“Don’t know.”

They were quiet, nursing the mediocre beer and neon orange corn snacks for the entire third quarter of the game. The Kings were losing badly.

“Look, I’m not sure what went down with your ex-wife, but for you to come out of retirement is a big fucking deal. You’ve got to figure out if it’s worth pursuing. Buy a plane ticket and get down there. She’s in Southern California, not Antarctica.”

The hour-long drive home was cold without Hannah. She had radiated warmth and heat when she was in the car. Her body and hair crackled with life. Everything had appeared in Technicolor when she was here. Now that it was back to its muted sepia, he wasn’t sure about his self-imposed isolation. His hands danced on the steering wheel, the gearshift, the dashboard. It was the first time he missed having a mobile phone. Right now, he craved an instant connection.

The small clock on his mantle struck eleven when he entered the dark house. Bypassing the living areas, he picked up the cordless handset from the kitchen and headed to the bedroom. Other than that one time between patients, he hadn’t called Hannah. They’d made no promises to each other. He’d assumed that when she’d gotten her life situated she’d come back to him. In hindsight he could see, it was a stupid assumption. Because she was between careers, and exploring other aspects of her life, didn’t mean she should or would drop everything and appear on his doorstep, dog and suitcase in hand. It was a ridiculous fantasy he’d harbored. He’d been burned pretty badly, but wanted to see where this would go. He’d waited long enough.

***

“Hannah Keesling’s phone,” a man said into the receiver.

Ben was a little taken aback. The phone had been with Hannah like another appendage. He couldn’t guess who was answering her phone. Panic closed his throat, making speech difficult. Had he
waited too long? She was an attractive single woman. He couldn’t be the only man interested in pursuing her.

“I’m Ben Cooper,” he said, finding his voice. “I’m the vet who helped Cody when Hannah was in Shelter Cove.” He hoped that sounded like a plausible explanation. After all, didn’t vets call for follow up at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night?

“She’s in the shower. Can I give her a message?”

How could she be naked in such close proximity to another man? He unballed his fist and loosened his death grip on the plastic phone. “No message.” Ben pressed the ‘end’ button. Had he missed the boat? All his worry about getting hurt, dating another woman like Samara seemed foolish. He wanted Hannah. All he had to figure out was how he was going to get her.

He was groggy with sleep when the phone rang. The clock confirmed that it only been an hour since he called Hannah. He’d been so worked up, he never thought he’d fall into a deep dreamless slumber.

The phone bleated again. Was that the second time or the s
eventh? He snatched it from the cradle.

“Ben?” the familiar husky voice said hesitantly. Hannah.

Sleep lowered his inhibitions. “Come back to me.”

“I will,” she said

“Who’s with you?” She hesitated. “A guy answered your phone earlier.”

“A friend helping me out.”

“Get here soon.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said. Then Hannah disco
nnected the call.

When he awoke in the morning, he wondered if he had dreamt all of it.

***

Her bags packed, Hannah walked through the Newport house one last time. She’d fallen in love with the place the minute it had gone on the market. She’d envisioned bringing babies back here from the hospital, though not much beyond that. Lack of foresight was starkly evident now. But none of that mattered. As soon as Michael came home from work, she was going to break the news to him that she was leaving. Looking around at all the perfectly decorated rooms, she knew in her gut that she would never be back way again.

Leather bottomed ballet flats slid along the gleaming hardwood floors as Hannah looked at the perfect molding, the custom arches and woodwork of the great room. She’d miss the acres of black granite that topped custom white cabinets. She’d never cooked much but the sixty inch stainless steel stove and vast number of Viking appliances had always invited her into the kitchen—even if it was only to microwave dinner. The built-in bar and huge family room had always begged for entertaining, but she’d never gotten around to it. She walked through the four bedrooms that she’d planned to fill with a couple of children and all their stuff. The travertine baths that she never used gleamed. She stood by the saltwater pool, and looked over the perfectly manicured lawn and watched the calm waters of Upper Newport Bay lap at the shore.

She heard the garage rumble open, and swallowed the lump in her throat. It was time.

“Hannah,” Michael shouted.

“I’m out back,” she responded. Cody wiggled, jumped and licked at Michael. He leaned down and patted the dog before pus
hing him away with his knee. He didn’t like dog hair on his custom tailored clothes.

A sheaf of glossy papers fluttered in his outstretched hand.

“What’s that?”

“I saw Dr. Stern today, and he gave me a list of pamphlets on surrogacy and private adoption.”

Hannah closed her eyes, solidifying her resolve. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Surrogacy? Adoption? I know there are pros and cons to each, but if we want to have children someday soon, I think we’re going to have to be willing to compromise.”

“Michael.” She paused to get his attention. “Listen to me.” Hannah took a much longer pause this time. “I’m sorry.”

He dropped the papers onto a stone table, determined to get his way.

“Look, I know it was a devastating blow. But I’m ready to move on. We want the same things. I don’t see any reason to wait.”

“Stop.” She put her right index finger on Michael’s determined lips. “Please stop.”

“Why?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“I want…” Hannah faltered. “I want a divorce.”

“Oh my God. You’re leaving me. Because of the infertility?” His face shone with incredulity, hurt and anger.

“No, it’s not that,” she assured him. “I decided this while I was away. Before…well, before…”

“You met someone else.” Michael’s volume was increasing. It was unlike him to display anger, especially where others could see or hear. He’d always been concerned with what the neighbors thought of them.

She averted her eyes. “That’s not why. We’re not right for each other. I don’t want you to think…”

“Think what?”

“The fire’s not there. I thought I could live without it, but I can’t. I want… I want my life back.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?” Hannah tried for innocence.

“Who is he?” Michael saw right through her.

“I met him
after
I made my decision Michael, after. Who he is isn’t important. I’d be doing this either way.”

“Are you leaving here and driving straight to him?” he asked, raking his hands through his hair. She’d rarely seen him muss his carefully waxed hair.

“You’re not being fair,” she said softly, hoping he’d match her tone.

“I’m not being fair,” Michael shouted. Cody cowered by the French doors. “After all these years together, that’s it. You’re pul
ling out. No warning, no marriage counseling, no talking this over.
You’re
done—so
it’s
done? Is that it? Correct me if I’m wrong here. I’m supposed to—what—bow out gracefully so that you can drive off into the sunset with someone new—someone who
fires
you up?”

She wanted to protest—to say it wasn’t that simple. But in rea
lity, it
was
that simple. “Yes.”

With one word she cut him to the quick. He crumpled onto a brightly striped chair cushion. Actions warred within her. Should she comfort the man who used to feel like her best friend, try to make him feel better, or leave him in the chair oozing like an open wound under a prematurely torn off bandage? She shook her head clear. There wasn’t anything
she
could do. His parents could give him solace. She patted her thigh, ushered Cody through the house into the garage, and into the car. If she left now, she could be in Shelter Cove by tomorrow morning.

***

Hannah only made it as far as Tustin before she had to pull off the road. Had she lost her mind? What had she done? She’d left her husband for a guy she’d only met a month ago. She had done irrevocable damage to her marriage…to Michael. They would never be friends again. She’d never live in that house or have that life. Yawning unknown stretched before her. She didn’t know when or if she’d ever work again, whether it was real estate, photography, or music. She didn’t know if she’d ever have the children that she’d so desperately wanted only a month ago.

Pulling her phone from the charger, Hannah dialed her mother even though it was nearly midnight in Copenhagen.

“Mor.” She cried when the achingly familiar voice answered.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Her mother spoke to her in Danish. Growing up it had always been an intimate way of speaking—a language only the two of them shared.

She switched to her mother’s native tongue. “I left Michael.”

The phone clattered to the floor, sounding a discordant note in her ear. She heard mumbling, between her mother and her stepf
ather, before her mother came onto the line again. She could hear the familiar sound of water filling the kettle, and knew her mother was putting up coffee.

“Are you okay?”

Hannah nodded. “I think so.”

“Why now?” The question jarred Hannah.

“Now? Did you think this would happen?” She heard her mother sigh. She knew that sound. It carried days, or months, or years of things gone unsaid. “Mor? Tell me.”

Hannah could almost see her mother in her kitchen. It was very simple, very old, and very Scandinavian with its white IKEA cab
inets, ancient wood stove, and light pine floors.

“I never thought Michael was right for you.”

“You never said anything.”

“That was not my place. You had made a decision. I wanted to support you in any way that I could.”

“Why did you leave Dad?” She had never asked her mother that directly. They had talked around the topic in a hundred different ways, but she never knew why her parents broke up.

“I’m not sure if going over this will help you.”

“I need to know, Mor.”

That sigh again. The clink of the spoon against the porcelain sink, Mor had poured and stirred her coffee.

“I loved your father. I never regretted any moment we spent together.” Her mother paused. “I will always be grateful that he gave me you, Hannah. In many ways, you are the love of my life.”

Tears leaked from Hannah’s eyes. Her mother was rarely se
ntimental. The Danish weren’t like that, except when they were drunk.

“Shay, Daniel, was passionate, and hot tempered, and incred
ibly talented. I loved all those things about him. But, I spent nearly twenty years with a man who was more passionate about music than he was about me. He was happy to be on the road, singing, and performing with his band. Shay could spend weeks in the studio recording a new album, rarely coming out. When I toured with him, when I was working—this was all fine. But after I had a baby, the life of a jazz musician wasn’t practical. I didn’t see him at night, or on the weekends, or when he was touring, or making a record. I loved him, Hannah. He swept me off my feet. I never felt like I got off the whirlwind ride. But, I think he loved the music more.”