The Someday List (3 page)

Gabe moved around her and turned toward the mahogany
dresser, where he pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

"Nothing is good enough for you, Rachelle-not this big house
and a maid, not the new car you have to have every few years,
not even your access to enough money to do whatever you want,
without having to work. And let's not even talk about the two
gorgeous kids. What's the problem?"

Resentment churned in her gut. "There you go again, listing
things;' Rachelle said. "Actually, I went through childbirth, so I
gave you the kids, Gabe. And, if you'll recall, I never asked to be
a kept woman. I'm an optometrist, remember? I enjoyed the few
years I worked in my field. I became a stay-at-home mom because
that was what you wanted. But I'm beginning to wonder if you've
ever really given me what mattered most-you. I'm wondering if
you even know what that means, or if I do"

He frowned at her and stepped into his jeans. "Where is all of
this coming from? Why are you talking about optometry when you
haven't practiced in almost a decade? What is wrong with you?"

Rachelle shook her head. She walked over and stood in front
of him and continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I was just a `right' choice, Gabe, wasn't I? Like all the other choices you made to fit
into your parents' world. Right career? Medicine. Right family?
Pretty wife and kids. Right neighborhood? Tanglewood. When
have you ever done something just because you decided on your
own that it was important or special, without worrying about
what your parents wanted or about keeping up with everyone
else? Have you ever done that?"

Rachelle saw that she had hit a nerve. Gabe was speechless. He
quickly recovered, though, and rolled his eyes.

"Girl, you sound like you're having a midlife crisis;' he said.
"You're too young-snap out of it. After this conference, I'll be
gone for just about three weeks. That's enough time to get yourself
together. Maybe you can get a part-time gig at that boutique you
love while the kids and I are out of the house. Or find another
volunteer opportunity to whet your appetite. Or maybe you and
your girlfriends should go to that spa you like in Austin. Just don't
do what you did this morning. Ever again."

Rachelle surprised herself when she grabbed his arm before
he could walk away.

"If we're going to fix this, you have to be present, Gabe;" she
said. "You can't keep barking orders and disappearing."

He chuckled and shrugged out of her loose grasp. His disdain
struck her like a slap in the face.

"You know what? I need some time to myself right now, so I
can think clearly," she said.

Gabe gave her a quizzical look. "What does that mean?"

She didn't answer.

"You can't change the past, Rachelle;' he said. "You're married
to me now."

She shifted her gaze. Hadn't that always been one of their issues? Lingering shadows from her past?

Gabe mistook her silence as surrender and changed the subject. "I need to be at the airport in the morning by six a.m. for
my flight to New York. The other does are meeting me in front
of the Delta terminal so we can check our bags all at once. And
knowing Stevens, he's going to want to pray or something before
we board the plane. I need you there"

She hesitated. That was the least she could do. But the good
angel that usually sat on her shoulder continued to bat zero today.
"How about I `pray' for you now? I need to take care of me. I'm
leaving for a while."

Stunned by her own boldness, Rachelle turned away from him
before her eyes betrayed her. What was she talking about? She
wasn't scheduled to fly to California until Friday-two days from
now. At that moment, however, she decided not to waver. She
obeyed whatever her heart told her to do these days. God forgive
her if this time she were wrong.

He bent over to grab his shoes and chucked them in his closet,
then walked out of the bedroom. Rachelle knew where he was
headed-to the third level of the house where he could unwind
with his wall-length flat screen TV, his Wii, and his wet bar.

In a few hours, he would be so tipsy he might not remember
this conversation. Or at the very least, he'd have an altered memory
of what their argument had been about and how it had been
resolved. Happened every time they had a fight.

Rachelle returned to her closet and grabbed a canvas bag to
hold a few pieces of clothing and toiletries.

She plodded down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she
looked around and took a deep breath. Her heart pounded so
frantically she was sure Gabe could have heard it, if he cared to
listen.

She opened the door leading from the kitchen to the three-car
garage and put her luggage on the backseat of her silver Lexus. She slid behind the wheel and sat there for a few minutes. Was
she really doing this? Did she know what it could mean?

Years ago, she would have probably paused to pray, but she
hadn't talked to God in so long that now she wouldn't know what
to say. No matter what her Aunt Irene always said about him
being on time, Rachelle was almost certain that rule applied only
to dues-paying servants.

She brushed away those thoughts and pressed the garage door
panel near the windshield of her car. She knew Gabe was blasting
his music or the TV and wouldn't hear her leave. He'd go ballistic
when he realized she hadn't been bluffing.

The thought made her smile. Finally, she had found a way to
shake him. His cell phone rested on the charger in the kitchen.
She called it instead of the home phone so Gabe would receive
the message later.

"I'm going away for the night, to clear my head and take care
of myself," Rachelle said on his voice mail. "Have a nice flight to
New York and enjoy the conference."

She didn't say whether she would see him when he returned.
In the rush of actually doing something independent of him, she
wasn't sure she wanted to reassure him. Gabe needed to feel some
of the conflicting emotions she had been wrestling with for a long
time. She had reached her limit.

Just before sunset, Rachelle pulled in front of one of Houston's
fanciest downtown hotels and ended a winding, two-hour drive
across the metro area. She checked into the Magnolia with the
travel bag that contained her sleepwear, a jogging suit, and her
iPod.

She entered her suite and flung herself across the bed, onto
her back. She stared at the patterned ceiling and shook her head.
I can't believe I'm doing this.

She lay there for half an hour and let her thoughts wander.
She should call her parents to make sure the children had arrived safely. She should check in with Gabe, but then again, why
bother?

When she finally sat up to survey her quarters, Rachelle zoned
in on a set of double doors that led to a well-lit bathroom the size
of a large walk-in closet. Inside, she found scented candles and
complimentary bubble bath awaiting her.

She filled the Jacuzzi-style tub with the lavender-scented gel
and warm water. When water lapped near the edge, she peeled off
her clothes and slowly slid inside. Rachelle positioned her shower
cap-covered head against the tub's ledge and reviewed how she
had gotten to this place, both physically and emotionally, and
why she was throwing her security to the wind.

Had she really left her husband sitting in a restaurant this morning with no ride home? Was she really leaving it up to him to get
himself to the airport tomorrow? Rachelle Mitchell Covington?
Miss Goody Two-Shoes?

She laughed out loud. It was short and quick, tempered by a
pang of regret.

Just because she could act so foolishly didn't make it right. She
sat there, considering what her options would be if she stayed
with Gabe and what she might face if she chose to leave. Soon,
the tears came, first a trickle and then in buckets.

Why, she wasn't sure.

Maybe for Jillian. Or for herself. Or for Gabe. Or for what could
have been that maybe never would be.

When she was spent, Rachelle sat up in the tub and shivered.
She'd been there so long that the water had turned cool. She
reached for the spigot for a fresh surge of wet warmth, but realized that what she really wanted was out of her control.

Adoration from her husband, maybe? A joint effort to reduce
this gap of nothingness between them before he left the country?
She wanted ... She needed ...

Sadly, this was the issue. She wasn't sure where the empty place
deep inside of her resided. That meant she also wasn't sure how
to fill it.

Could it be that this isn't about Gabe at all?

Rachelle banished that frightful thought without giving it
full consideration. She rose from the tub and wrapped herself
in an oversized towel. When she was dry and dressed in a peach
silk nightgown and matching robe, she strolled into the sitting
area of the suite and curled up on the sofa. She stared out of the
fourteenth-floor wall of windows at the starry sky.

Was there really a God up there?

The notion of a loving higher power was understandably attractive for those who needed a way to connect with other people for
a common cause, but if you were self-reliant, some of what most
churchgoers called faith seemed like mindless devotion. That was
one thing upon which she and Gabe still agreed.

Soon after they married, she had joined the church he had
grown up in, and they had attended during holidays and other
special occasions to make his mother happy. But since Geraldine's death several years ago, Gabe hadn't suggested that they
return.

"My mother never liked the minister anyway," he had replied
when she asked why they no longer went. Rachelle had secretly
enjoyed the sermons and the music whenever they visited, but
she knew if she insisted on attending, Gabe would run faster in
the other direction.

Sundays had been filled with golf outings, brunch with friends
and colleagues, and weekend getaways with other doctors and their wives. Church became an afterthought. So much so, that
Rachelle had all but forgotten what was so meaningful about
regularly attending services and worshiping an unseen force.

Tonight, however, she peered into the darkness and pondered
whether there was something to this faith that her favorite aunt
and uncle had always raved about when she visited them during
her years in college. She wished she had something or someone
here now, to guide her.

Do you have any answers for me, God? If you're real, can you
show me?

Claps of thunder didn't rattle her ears and the sky didn't part.
Rachelle sighed. That would have been too simple.

Her cell phone rang and she dashed to pick it up before the
call was routed to voice mail.

"Mommy, where are you?"

Tate's high-pitched voice made her smile. "Hi, sweetheart;' she
said. "How was the flight?" She wiped her eyes and focused on
her son's responses.

"No turbulence this time. And Gram was so happy to see us.
She took us for pizza, and then we went to the park to watch the
sunset"

Rachelle grinned. Tate had already forgotten the complaints
he had spouted all the way to the airport this morning. Gram got
an A-plus for wowing him on the first day of his stay.

"I'm glad you had such a good day, baby. Sounds like your visit
is off to a great start. Behave yourself, now."

"Okay, Mommy. But why did Daddy tell me to call you on your
cell phone? Where are you?"

Rachelle hesitated. "What did Daddy say?"

"He just said to call you; you had to go out and do something"

"Daddy's right, sweetie;' Rachelle said softly, thankful that Gabe
hadn't brought their son into this.

She asked to speak to Taryn and reminded her daughter to listen
to Gram and to have a good time. "I love you, little lady."

"Love you too, Mom:"

When had this eight-year-old become too grown up to call her
"Mommy"? Rachelle's heart sank.

She ended the call and glanced at the digital alarm clock next
to the bed. It was 9:30 in Philly and 8:30 p.m. here in Houston.

Rachelle rose from the sofa and stretched. She walked over to
her bag and pulled out the outfit she planned to wear tomorrow.
She slipped out of her nightgown and into the navy blue stretch
pants and matching pullover top.

This has been the shortest, and as a result, the most expensive,
hotel stay of my life.

Something was leading her home. Nothing had changed, really,
but after hearing her babies' voices, she knew that this couldn't
be all about her. She had to do right by them.

She picked up her cell phone and dialed the house.

It rang until the call was routed to voice mail. Rachelle was
surprised, but surmised that Gabe was probably blasting his music
or taking a shower so he'd be ready to catch his pre-dawn flight.
Or maybe he was so mad that he was ignoring her call.

She plopped onto the bed and sat there, Indian style, debating
her options.