Four Wives (23 page)

S
ORTING THROUGH THE
F
ARRELL
documents, they’d been over it again and again.

“I just don’t get why Carson Farrell is protecting her.
She
was the one losing her temper, and I have little doubt now that she was the one seeing the shrink. Now she wants to take his kids and he’s holding back.” Marie had been so focused on Farrell’s evasiveness she had overlooked the obvious. Now they had more questions than answers.

Randy caught her eye, then smiled. “Don’t ask me. You’re the one who believes in true love.”

Marie had considered love as the answer. For the better part of an hour, she had placed herself in Farrell’s shoes, asked herself how far she would go to protect Anthony from embarrassment if he were trying to take the girls from her. Taking into account even the truest of loves, the answer was indisputable. Anyone trying to take her children would face the fight of his life.

“The police report alone should have forced Connely to back down. He should have had Vickie Farrell at the settlement table from day one. And that’s not even bringing in the shrink.”

Randy nodded, enjoying his role tonight as Marie’s audience. He had come to understand her need to reason out loud, and to enjoy the bird’s-eye view into her mind. There weren’t many situations she couldn’t dissect’ most things having a cause and effect that could be uncovered. She could trace the lines, follow the motives of the players, even when they were mired in emotional muck. There was only one place she fell short, and that was where they now found themselves’facing the irrational.

“It’s the wild card,” Randy said when she stopped talking. “Some people, some things just can’t be explained.”

Marie thought about his mother, wondering if she was the reason he could accept the unacceptable. They might not know what was lurking in Carson Farrell’s psyche, but that did not mean it was unknowable. Everything had an explanation.

“We have to find this secretary. She would have handled the medical reimbursements for the shrink. And that would make her curious, listening more closely to Farrell’s conversations, tuning in on office gossip. She could know more than anyone.”

“Now look who’s stereotyping.”

Marie laughed, then reached for her phone. “I’d better call the girls.”

She stopped laughing when Love’s mother answered her phone. “Yvonne? Where’s Anthony?”

Yvonne sounded calm’or, rather,
calming.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s fine.”

“Anthony should have been there by now.”

Yvonne was silent, and Marie knew she wasn’t going to like whatever it was that was not being said. “What?” she asked.

“It’s fine … ,” Yvonne started to say, and Marie knew it could only mean one thing.

“He’s hitting balls, isn’t he?”

“He called a little while ago. I told him to go. Bill took his kids home’ I think he wants some quiet family time,” she said, trying not to reveal her worry at his hasty departure. “That leaves me and the girls, and they’re no trouble at all.”

“That’s not the point,” Marie said, exhaling loudly.

“Marie? You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“It’s no trouble.
Really.
It’s such a beautiful night. Let it go.”

“All right,” she said, though there was no chance of that. “Is Love doing OK?”

Yvonne hesitated. “Yes, fine. We’re all fine. You just do what you have to do.”

Marie thanked Yvonne again, told her she’d finish up and come home soon. Then she hung up the phone.

It was no mystery what had just unfolded. Still, Randy asked the question.

“Is everything all right?”

Marie shook her head. Her face was flushed. “No.”

There was so much more she wanted to say out loud, thoughts that were burning a hole inside her. Every night, she made sure she was home for the girls. Every night, she made dinner or fetched the takeout, even when the work was piled up. She could easily stay at the office the way Anthony did so many nights, indulging the desire to stay on top of things’to feel professional, for once. Instead, she took it all on herself, borrowing time anywhere she could, paying the price somewhere down the line. And for this one night, she had asked her husband to be home for her so she could figure out this damned case’the case that had been dogging her since it began.

“Do you want to go home?” Randy asked, not at all sure how to help her.

“No.”

Marie pulled a rubber band from a group of check registers. “When did the shrink visits start?”

Her words were clear, but her voice was shaky. Something inside of her was coming undone.

“Just after Simone was born.”

She started to check the front of each register for the dates, but they fell to the ground.

“Damn it!” Marie said, reaching to the floor to pick them up.

Randy leaned down to help her. “Here,” he said placing them one at a time back on her desk.

He was close now, too close. Marie pushed her chair away, then walked to the back of the office. She tried to focus her thoughts on the case, on the woman they were trying to locate and the things she might tell them. But other thoughts occupied her mind’the frustration from the day, the anger at her husband that had been snowballing for weeks. She was beyond fighting it.

Randy left his desk and approached Marie. Standing before her, he emptied his expression of all expectation, searching her eyes for some indication of what he should do. Helplessness cast a bright light on his youth, his inexperience. Still, the resolve to reach her remained.

Feeling the tears on her face, Marie brushed them off.
Fuck,
she thought. She never cried. She started to speak, but for the life of her could not think of what to say. As complicated as she liked to think herself, Randy Matthews had figured her out in a matter of days’her mind, her guilt, the conscience that was now failing her. He had watched her fall apart, seen her miscalculate. Still, he held onto an admiration that was no longer an awkward presence between them. Instead, it had grown into a deep caring that he now wore on his face.

“I …” She started to speak, but he stopped her. Moving forward with conviction, he placed his hands on her face and pulled her to him, his lips pressing against her mouth, which was still searching for words. She felt his chest against her as they leaned into the wall. His hands were strong. The kiss was still, holding them like statues against one another. She thought of one word.
Stop.
She heard it screaming from the inside out but chose to ignore it. She told herself there was no danger here. It was just a kiss, the manifestation of adolescent attraction, which could now, maybe, be put to rest.

That was all this was’her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands glued to her face, open palms softly cupped behind her ears. And although everything about him’from the body she could now feel against her, to the fullness of his wavy hair’was drawing her in, she willed herself to move away. Still, as she tried to retreat, she kissed him harder, as if it were somehow possible to draw from the kiss the way he looked at her, the way she felt when she was with him’so extraordinary, so perfectly flawed and human, and yet superhuman. She kissed him as though she could take him with her, outside of this moment.

Then she stopped. Feeling her pull back, Randy looked at her, his hands still unable to let go of her face.

“I have to go.” She slipped her arms from around his neck and gently placed her hands on top of his, pulling them from her. Releasing the last thread of their embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” Randy said, still feeling the kiss that had just passed between them, the young intern and the married woman. No matter how little he thought of marriage, never had he imagined himself capable of stepping inside one, pulling at fabric that was already beginning to unravel.

But Marie shook her head. “No. Don’t be sorry.” Pressing her hand against the side of his face, she smiled at him. “We both know this has been building for a while,” she said, then walked back to her desk. She reached for the jacket that she’d left draped over her chair. She checked the clock. Not five minutes had passed. As she gathered her things, she could feel the disruption within her. Each action’packing up documents, searching for her keys’felt intolerably cruel.

“Don’t do that.” Randy was soon beside her, his actions similarly grounded in the mundane, his mood heavy.

“Do what?” she asked without looking at him.

“Don’t be so … shit, I don’t know. So casual.”

She stopped now, this time turning to meet his eyes. “I’m not being casual.” Then she took his hand. “This is killing me.”

He started to move toward her, but she let go of his hand. “No, I have to go. You know I have to go.”

She hurried now, stuffing things into her bag, looking for the keys she’d already found and misplaced yet again.

“Are you OK?” she asked him before turning for the door.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll lock up when I’m done.” He was at his desk now, resuming the search as though nothing had happened. Still, he was immersed in a discernible sadness.

Walking away from Randy Matthews, Marie could almost feel the resistance, each step requiring a greater effort than the one before it. How stupid she had been to think that this would be easy, that her age had somehow imbued her with the kind of wisdom that could battle the most basic human need to be adored, to be seen with such clear definition. That she had surprised herself by pulling away so quickly was meaningless. She could see that now, as she got into her car, closing the door. That kiss’a fully clothed, subtle encounter’was more intimate than any moment she’d shared with her husband in a long time. Years, perhaps. And it was clear to her now that there was more than a trifling flirtation between them. This kiss was the physical embodiment of need, the kind of need that rises from the hollowest spaces. How could she not crave it again and again and again?

As she drove toward home, toward the husband she was mad at, the kids who would be mad at her for being so late, and the life she had built that rendered her so uncertain, it occurred to her that she had been wrong. Letting her mind go where it wanted, she could feel his hands pressed against her face, his soft lips, the warmth of his skin. There was no denying it. She could feel the danger of that kiss.

J
ANIE MADE POPCORN, TWO
microwave bags that she divided evenly into four little bowls. She placed the bowls on a tray, added juice boxes, a beer, and a glass of wine. It was movie night at the Kirk house’a celebration of Daddy’s little vacation from work. It was something he could do with his kids, a way of incorporating them into his new life as a couch potato.

All in all, Daniel Kirk was enjoying the convalescence. He spent his days watching sports, his nights watching sports. Janie brought him food and beer. His kids came in now and again to check on him. He’d caught up on the local news, thumbed through a pile of magazines, and e-mailed everyone he knew. The firm had accepted the small blood-clot theory and his request for a few days off to recover. They’d sent a basket of fruit and a get-well card signed by his coworkers and all the secretaries. And to Janie he seemed quite happy, indeed.

She carried the tray into the TV room, where
The Incredibles
was getting underway. They’d seen it a hundred times, and the kids were already showing signs of boredom. Still, it was more TV than they were normally allowed on a school night’and there was popcorn and juice to be had. No one was complaining. Janie took in the scene as she made her way from the kitchen. Four kids huddled around their dad. A family night.
A family.
She felt the knot in her stomach, the same one that had been there for weeks.
Please,
she thought to herself.
Love this man again.
Was it really that hard to do? He was handsome. He made good money. He loved his kids. And he was faithful.

“Popcorn has arrived!” she announced, setting the tray on the coffee table.

“Mine! Mine!” The cries echoed across the room as little hands reached for the bowl that seemed to have more.

“Guys … there’s plenty of popcorn! Come on, no fighting.”

Janie struggled to sort them all out, pulling them back onto the couch so they could hold their bowls and juice as they watched the television. Daniel grabbed his beer, then gave her a wink as she sat down on the other end of the couch.

“You ready to go back next week?” she asked after a short while, looking at her husband over the heads of their children.

Daniel shrugged. “Sure. I feel fine.”

Janie nodded. “You don’t think it’ll be too much?”

“Nah. I just need to work out more, get rid of the stress.”

He was completely nonchalant.

“Do you ever … ,” Janie started to say, then stopped and took a long sip of wine.

Daniel seemed content letting it go as well, drinking his beer and pretending to be interested in the movie.

But Janie felt desperate to reach inside him’to pull something out that she might connect with.

“Do you ever think that this is all too much? The pressure, I mean.”

He was feeling defensive now, she could see it in his face, his body language. “No. I don’t. It was one time. Too much work, not enough sleep. You know that.”

“I mean, do you ever think about doing something else? Something less stressful? You love sports, maybe you could coach or something.”

“Oh, right,” Daniel said, becoming sarcastic. “And who’s going to pay for all your pedicures?”

“I’m trying to have a conversation here. Maybe this was a wake-up call that we need to think about things.”

His face was red, the blood was racing, and that was exactly what had landed him in the hospital. Janie read him perfectly. He was in the first flight, the championship class. And now she was suggesting he couldn’t handle it, that he wasn’t as good as the rest of them. It was a direct affront to his manhood’the only kind of manhood he understood.

“Whatever. You think about things. I’m watching a movie with my kids.”

Janie drew a long breath and let it out slowly. Truth be told, she didn’t want to leave this life either. She liked the house, the Mercedes, the schools, and’yes’her weekly pedicures. But could they at least have a conversation? Having conversations’real grown-up conversations where two people listen to each other with respect and interest and understanding’ had never been what they were about. And she had never thought of it as a deficiency. But as she watched him now from the corner of her eye, she wondered what was on his mind, in his heart. Was it possible not to know after nearly twenty years together?

Daniel finished his beer and reached across the couch to hand her the empty bottle.

“Do you mind?” he asked nicely. His demeanor had done a 180, now that he needed something.

“Sure,” Janie said, getting up to fetch another beer. And as she left the room, she wondered if he had any idea what he’d just done.