"Do you think for one moment that I was asking you to pay for it?" Mother raised her hands in disgust. "Of course, I would pay the tuition. But if you're set on destroying their education, I can't do anything more."
"Stop it."
"Fine. The conversation is closed."
The waitress came with our lunch, and silently we began to eat.
"So, how is Paul?”
"OK, I guess. I haven't heard."
"Does he anticipate getting orders for Symington, after this little tour?"
"I have no idea where he plans on going after Korea."
"But you'll follow, correct? Just like the good wife that you are?"
Now it was my turn to be sulky. "Yeah, right."
Mother laid her fork down. "Kay, I know that you two are having problems. It's to be expected in any marriage."
"What's your point?"
"The point is life is nothing but problems. Do you think your father and I always had a smooth time of it? Men who intend to make something of themselves often give their wives and family short shrift while they are pursuing their careers."
"This has nothing to do with his career."
Mother ignored me. "Do you think I was always gracious and understanding every time a patient called in the middle of the night? Do you think I smiled politely, every time I had to hold his supper and put you to bed before he even came home?"
"Don't you get righteous with me!" I exploded. "You still don't cook, and Novella tucked me in!"
"That's not important. You simply have to understand while your husband is climbing to the top, you're going to have to sit back and wait for him. When he is promoted to general, then you'll be able to enjoy each other."
"Yeah, right!" I hooted derisively. "What about all the time you and Daddy had to enjoy each other? Wasn't it fun finding him dead on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night?" My voice escalated; people were beginning to look at us, but I didn't care. "The man worked himself to death—and for what? That mausoleum you called a house? That Mercedes? Yeah, he's enjoying everything, six foot under."
"Lower your voice. There's no need for this," Mother’s voiced dropped to an ominous whisper. "I don't know what the problem is between you and Paul, but I do know this much—you better work it out, before any more gossip about you and that nosy reporter gets back to me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I clenched my napkin in my lap.
"I don't know and I don't want to know what's going on. But while you're righting the world's wrongs, I suggest you preserve your own wedding vows and make sure your children are cared for in the best possible way—by making sure they get the best education Jubilant Falls has to offer. If this gets ugly, you'll at least have Walshingham Academy on your side. I'm doing this for your own good, Kay."
"You like to think everything you do is for my own good, don't you? I want to know who told you. It was that old battle-axe friend of yours, Lovey, wasn't it?"
Mother froze, and an odd, hunted look came across her face.
"No. It wasn't Lovey."
"Then who? I think I have a right to know who's spreading these lies about me." God, I hope I sounded convincingly pious.
"I can't tell you."
“Oh, for God’s sake. It’s not like it’s national security or anything. What if something like that got back to the literacy center board?”
“You’d probably lose another do-gooder job, but that’s not important.” Mother sipped her coffee, gazing over the rim of her cup like a grand duchess. “It’s beyond me why you’ve got an education degree, but you insist on behaving like some government social worker. The important thing is making sure that my grandchildren aren’t being shuttled between divorced parents. Or worse, that I only get to see them during summer break because their mother was behaving like a whore and lost custody.”
I leaned across my plate, twisting my napkin in my lap. She hit the bull’s eye, and she knew it.
“Alright. I’ll take Andrew to Walshingham Academy first thing tomorrow,” I agreed. “I’ll even let you and your filthy money pay for it all, because appearances are so damn important to you.“
“I’m only thinking of the children, something you haven’t done since Lovey saw you here with that weasel of a reporter.“
“So it was she.” Mother didn’t answer, but I had all the confirmation I needed. “And you’ve got the nerve to believe her above your own daughter! You won’t ask me if it’s true—you just assume it is. You don’t care if I’m having problems in my marriage. Just patch it up. Don’t let anybody see what goes on behind closed doors.“
Mother paled and put her perfectly manicured hand to her throat. I rolled my eyes.
“Oh don’t be so puritanical. Just once in my life I’d like to know I can come to my mother when I’m having problems and get a little support. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. And you know what? I’ve never gotten it. Never in all my years have you supported anything I wanted to do!“
Mother exploded. “And you’ve made such lovely decisions my dear! The kind any mother would be proud to hold up to her friends.” Her voice moved up a bitter octave. “‘Mother, this is Grant Matthews. We got married last night. Mother, I’m calling you from the emergency room. Grant broke my nose. Mother, I’m at the emergency room again and this time they’re stitching up my face. Mother, I need money for a divorce lawyer.’ Can you see why I’m concerned about how everything looks? You insist on sinking to the lowest level, Kay, and this time you’re not going to do it! Not if your actions will cost me my grandchildren! I’ll do anything I can to stop this foolishness of yours.”
The silence stretched uncomfortably across the table. As if to break it, the waitress approached our table, smacking her gum.
“Ya’ll are finished here, now?” she asked, reaching for my plate. “Is this separate checks, or how we gonna do this?”
“We’re finished now,” I said, glaring at Mother. “We’re really finished.” I stood and threw my napkin on the table, then fished around in my purse for a ten-dollar bill. “I’ll find my own way back to the office, thank you,” I said, slapping it on the table. I turned to go.
“Kay, wait! You don’t understand. It’s for your own good!” Mother reached for me, as I stepped away.
“You really, really believe that, don’t you?” I stopped.
“Yes, Kay. Yes I do.”
“Then that’s your mistake this time, isn’t it?”
I turned on my heel and walked away.
* * *
But I was so happy with Marcus! Our relationship was a sweet, safe cocoon, swaddled in all the buffers that romance brings. The years between us had evaporated, and as time passed I realized my decision to come back to Jubilant Falls was the best I ever made.
It was too good to last.
In mid-December, I waited with the kids in front of the airport's plate-glass window. My stomach churned in guilt, dread, and horror as the small commuter plane rolled across the tarmac. That morning, a telegram came announcing Paul would be coming home for Christmas:
Kay, Will be airborne by the time you receive this. Will arrive in Jubilant Falls 16:25 local time. On leave until 15 Jan. Merry Christmas! Paul.
There hadn't been time for the answer I wanted to send: "Don't bother!" Instead, I stood awaiting his arrival, mute and guilty.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look, Mommy, there's Daddy!"
Involuntarily, I sucked in my breath as Paul disembarked from the plane and walked to the gate, two bags of gifts in his hands. He was dressed in tight jeans, his broad shoulders nearly bursting the seams of the brown leather aviator jacket. No wonder everyone thought he was a hero; every inch of him looked the part.
I smiled appropriately, as he came through the gate and stood stiffly as he hugged me, the shopping bags banging between my shoulder blades.
"God, it's good to be home, Kay." Paul's lips moved dangerously close to mine, and a deep, familiar need crashed against a deeper scar of betrayal somewhere deep inside me. I turned my head quickly, offering only my cheek for his kiss.
His green eyes hardened for a moment, then clouded over with hurt.
"Let's go get Daddy's luggage!" I called out brightly, leading the procession to the baggage claim carousel. Andy, still in his Walshingham School uniform, and Lil chattered excitedly behind me with their father.
We spoke very little to each other in the car. We couldn't even if we had wanted to; the children's babble would have prohibited anything deeper than "How was your flight?" or "Was the food any good?" Lillian stood in the back seat with her arms around her Daddy's neck, with Andy seated firmly on Paul's other side, trying to out-shout his sister as they filled their father in on what had happened during the last six months.
I kept my stiff smile plastered across my face, saying as little as I could. How could Mother ask me to live up to my vows with a betrayer, a cheat, and a liar like Paul? I hated the sight of him, but until we were alone no one else would ever know.
That night, we lay side by side in that old cannonball bed, staring silently at the cold moonlight tracing across the ceiling the naked branches of the oak outside the window. Paul rolled over and embraced me, kissing my neck. His hand slid to my breast, and his powerful leg eased over mine. His erection pressed against my thigh, and I felt sick.
"
Mmmmm.
I've missed this," he purred into my neck.
"Stop it." I pulled the covers up to my shoulders and turned away.
"What is this? Punishment?"
"I was under the impression you weren't coming home for another three weeks and then only for a few days. That was our agreement."
"I had an opportunity to come home, so I took it. Jesus, I thought you be happy to see me."
"You guessed wrong."
Paul was silent for a moment. "What's his name?"
My reply wasn't convincing or quick enough even for me. "What's whose name?"
"The other guy."
"What other guy?"
"You're a very poor liar, Kay. You always have been. I had two letters from you in the last five months, you hardly talked to me on the phone the last time I called, and now that I'm home you're cutting me off cold. What else could it be?"
"Are you sleeping with her?"
"Jesus, Kay, don't be ridiculous. I don't even know where she is. If I knew—"
"You’d be out of here so fast, we’d never know you even came home, wouldn't you?" All the wounds that I thought were healed tore open again, and I knew how damaged I had been six months ago. It had been Marcus's love that kept me going, nothing else. I thought of him sleeping alone in his odd, little apartment, and the pain around my heart grew.
"So, who is it?" Paul repeated his question.
"Go to sleep. We've got to go out and get a Christmas tree tomorrow morning." I rolled back to face him. "Mother wants us to have dinner with her, too. I'll thank you to put a good face over all this."
The bed springs moaned in protest, as Paul turned toward the window. I rolled over, too, tears beginning to pool in the corners of my eyes. The damage had already been done before he came home, I reminded myself. This is all his fault.
* * *
At the tree lot early the next day, I stood apart from Paul and the kids as they bartered over a blue spruce. It was ungodly cold. It took a long time, though, for the numbness in my fingers to match the numbness in my head.
This marriage was dead. I could see that now. Like a hit-and-run accident, all that was left was to push the dead carcass out of the roadway and get on with our lives.
Suddenly, I wanted to hear Marcus’s voice, to feel his warm arms wrap around me, enveloping me with his love.
I blew on my hands. I had to talk to Marcus. The 7-Eleven across the street had coffee inside. Paul wouldn't follow me. After last night he was too angry even if he didn't show it, and, besides, he wouldn't leave the kids. I could get away with it. I shoved my hands into my pockets and slogged through the snow.
Once inside, I felt the store's warmth begin to seep through my heavy coat as I called Marcus. He answered on the first ring.
"Hello?" His voice was tense and expectant.
"Hi honey. It's me."
"God, I miss you."
In the glaring fluorescent lights, amid the Double Cola Slurpees and the stack of two-day-old
Wall Street Journals
, I could feel the security of his love. I didn't belong with that big, dumb jet-jockey; I belonged with Marcus. I knew I could never return to Paul. The man who truly loved me, who would stand by me through all that laid ahead of me, never traveled at Mach two and never, ever would betray me.
"I miss you, too. I can't live like this any longer, Marcus. I'm going to tell him about us."
"If you think that's the right thing to do." I heard him exhale heavily. "I'll be here, Kay, if you need me." Softly he hung up.
Across the street, Paul had the tree strapped to the top of the Porsche and was looking around for me. Andy and Lil were jumping around in excitement. I quickly bought four cups of hot chocolate, and returned to my family.
"Just checking in at work," I said lightly, passing the Styrofoam cups around.
Paul shot a sideways glance at me. "Oh, really?"
"You used that excuse for years. Why can't I?" I shot back.
"Because maybe I really was checking in."
"And maybe you weren't."
He sighed. "Let's go home."
"Or what's left of it."
Paul set the tree up near the front window, placing the Christmas angel we bought in Munich on top, as I watched from the couch.
As the children decorated, I realized nearly every ornament was a milepost in our marriage: glazed sand dollars on gold cord from two years in Florida with Eglin's 33rd Tactical Fighter Wing; pewter colonial pineapples from Williamsburg, Virginia, when we were stationed nearby at Langley Air Force Base and assigned to the 1st TFW. There were wooden snowflakes from Germany and brightly colored miniature Korean ladies.
“This family has a history,”
they seemed to say.
“Can you let that go?”
"Look, Mommy! Daddy brought us home some new pretties for the free!" Lillian held up two handfuls of miniature paper fans.