My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (2 page)

Marital affairs expert Peggy Vaughan has been my mentor. She took time to read the entire manuscript at an early stage and offered praise and constructive feedback. She is a tremendously giving individual, who has shared invaluable wisdom, knowledge and understanding with me, through ongoing correspondence.

I would also like to thank my friends and colleagues, who read the manuscript and provided valuable feedback and encouragement: Margie Thaler, Deidra Robertson, Monica Columbus, Michelle Elrick, Jan Mosley, Karen Anderson, Chris Hildebrandt, Shirley Clark and Gail Ostiguy. This book would not have been as good without their valuable input.

My editor Andrea Scott-Bigsby did an outstanding job of making the text flow smoothly, clearly and chronologically. Her detailed editorial advice has greatly enhanced this manuscript. She helped me to include important nuggets in the story, avoid getting bogged down in unnecessary details and to avoid being offensive in a few places. We affair survivors have strong emotions sometimes.

FOREWORD 

Every individual is unique, every marriage is unique, and no two affairs are exactly the same. Nonetheless, the devastation and emotions experienced by those on all ends of an affair are sadly similar.

In this book, I have recounted the events that took place in my life after learning that my husband had an affair. I have told my story as accurately as possible.

To preserve anonymity of the other people involved in our lives at that time, the names of all characters in the book have been changed, except for those of our own family. Also many of the particulars have been altered to preserve confidentiality without distorting important facts or essential truth.

It is important to note, that for a period after learning of the affair, I was in a state of emotional shock and unable to process information logically. I have written about these events as I experienced and perceived them in the moment.

Clarity came later. Many of the things I thought and experienced in the moment were not actually true. They were my reactions at the time. In the beginning, I had limited information and therefore a limited ability to fairly evaluate what was happening. This is universal among those who discover their mate has been unfaithful.

In reading this book, you, the reader, have the opportunity to learn the many truths that we did, but I have not spelled them out for you. I invite you to live through the experience with me and discover them for yourself. The conclusions you draw may even be different than our own.

It has not been easy to expose our hearts: the good, the bad, and the ugly. As human beings we often fall short of the ideals we set for ourselves. I concluded that we are probably not alone in some of the bad and some of the ugly, so I have laid it out here, at the risk of criticism and rejection, in the hopes that others will identify with our situation and be helped.

It is my sincere desire to play a part in ending the silence and shame around the topic of extramarital affairs, as well as clear up some of the misconceptions that are held by society as a whole. I do not condone affairs, but they happen, and I am committed to helping those who experience them understand, heal, and build greater lives on the other side.

I am also committed to helping those who have not endured this particular pain, to relinquish their misconceptions and judgmental attitudes about infidelity.

I hope that people will learn from our experience and be deterred from having an affair. It may at first appear to be a pleasant road, but it leads to pain and regret beyond description, and once it is embarked upon, one cannot turn around, retrace his or her steps, and undo the journey.

I cannot predict how likely it is that husbands and wives who find themselves tempted by an affair will be deterred by understanding the pain their actions will cause others. People in this position do not think of the beloved spouse they would be betraying, nor the painful realities and consequences, but only of the selfish pleasure they desire in the moment.

What can, however, be a deterrent to having an affair is learning to understand oneself, daring to look inside one’s heart, facing the truth, and embarking on the road to spiritual growth. This road leads to a life suffused with indescribable pleasure and joy, a destination available only to those who have courage and are willing to do the work. For these people, there is a path that appears thorny in the beginning, but in the end leads to paradise.

Anne Bercht

Abbotsford, British Columbia

March 2004

PROLOGUE 

How can I tell my beautiful wife of eighteen years, with whom I make love almost nightly, that I am caught up in an affair? I’m not even sure how it happened. A few months ago I would have sworn I was not the unfaithful type. Now the woman I’m seeing has suddenly told her husband about us, and she’s pressuring me to leave Anne and start a new life together.

The affair began when Helen asked me to lunch and told me about the struggles she was facing in her marriage. At the time, I actually believed that I would be able to help her by sharing some of the things that Anne and I do to keep our marriage fresh and strong. But I didn’t tell Anne about that lunch.

Then, when Helen and I met alone for a second time, I felt a magnetic force drawing me to her. It was a force I chose not to resist-there was an emptiness in me that needed filling. Soon Helen and I shifted from being friends to lovers. Now we are facing a huge decision.

I constantly ask myself, why did I accept that first invitation? I still love Anne. How can I be doing this to her? I am confused and unsure what to do. But I do know I can no longer keep my affair a secret.

I have to tell Anne.

-Brian Bercht

CHAPTER 1
Cinderella ...NOt 

MONDAY, MAY 15, 2000

“Un-break my heart, say you’ll love me again. Undo this hurt you caused when you walked out the door and walked outta my life. Un-cry these tears I cried so many nights. Un-break my heart, my heaaaarrt, oooooh.”

The words of the Tony Braxton song blared from the radio, and I sang along with great gusto. I was enjoying every moment alone in the car, with no fear of my private karaoke being slightly off-key or just plain too loud.
Perfect song. Right in my range,
I thought to myself as I sang with passion.
The words are completely depressing, though. Boy, that would be awful. Good thing I have a great marriage. I feel sorry for people who have to go through that kind of pain.

Commuting alone was a welcome diversion from my constant interaction with people. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, but with three highly social teenagers, my home resembled a busy shopping mall more than a quiet place to escape from the outside world.

One of my biggest dreams at this stage in my life was to take a weekend and go to a cabin in the mountains all alone-without even my beloved husband Brian. I would eat chocolate and drink wine while reading a good book in front of the fireplace, totally uninterrupted. But there was no time in my life to make this dream a reality right now.

I swiftly rounded the corner, hit the left turn signal light and headed up the hill towards our home on a quiet residential street. Our place looked like all the other houses on the street. It was what’s commonly referred to as a B.C. (British Columbia) box, in reference to its unoriginal floor plan.

I edged into our driveway, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the garage and simultaneously engaging the emergency break. I clicked off the blaring radio, switched off the headlights, grabbed the keys from the ignition, and hopped out of the car.

Swinging the door shut, I headed for the house with a bounce in my step. I had just come from music practice, where I was learning how to sing. I loved it! I had great friends there and singing was therapy for my soul. I opened the front door, feeling grateful for my life, grateful for Brian, and grateful for our marriage.

We’d been challenged in the past few months by my extra hours at work, the death of Brian’s father, and the truly harrowing teenage episodes of our oldest daughter, Danielle, but I felt that we could make it through these problems. Brian and I were best friends and passionate lovers. He was a good provider, a hard-working, rough and tough kind of man’s man, and I loved him beyond measure.

When I came in, I could see Brian standing in the kitchen. He turned and looked at me. He didn’t look happy. I recalled what a grouch he’d been yesterday, which was Mother’s Day.

He had complained that the kids didn’t honor me in any way for the special occasion. Somehow this made me feel sad, guilty, and hurt all at the same time, as if it were my job to teach our children to honor their mother, not his. Brian had given me a pot of bright

yellow geraniums, but it felt like they were given out of duty rather than love.

I forgave him, though. I knew the past few months had been hard on him. I was determined to be loving and supportive. In fact, I welcomed the opportunity to be strong for him when he needed me to. It made me feel like a good wife.

Now his eyes seemed to be filled with a strained and questioning sadness. I gave him a reassuring smile, and then he spoke.

“Anne, we need to get the kids off to bed so we can talk.” Even though Brian’s tone was serious, I felt excited. I really enjoyed talking with my husband and hoped that we could have a long overdue heart-to-heart. Over the past six months, I had wondered whether Brian was depressed. Something was wrong inside of him. I had made every effort to find out what was wrong, but he closed me off.

I suggested that I make coffee. He thought that would be fine. Coffee makes talking fun. It creates the mood.

When I had doctored up our coffees just the way each of us likes it, I entered the living room carrying two mugs. I handed Brian his, and curled up on the large chair next to the sofa where he was sitting.

“I need to talk with you about something,” Brian said. I kept my mouth shut and waited. One thing I had learned from Brian is never to talk when you should be listening. Some people need long periods of silence before they can express themselves. His face looked strained. He looked into my eyes, then quickly looked away.

After a long silence, he said “I, um.” I continued to wait patiently and said nothing. I wanted to encourage him. I could see he was struggling intensely. I didn’t know how to help him.

Whatever he was about to say, I wanted and needed to hear it. Still, a slow fear began creeping up my body, starting at my feet. I carefully placed my coffee mug on the table, having taken only one sip.

“This is really difficult,” Brian said. “I don’t know how to say this.

I don’t know how to start. I really love you, Anne. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” After what seemed like an eternity had passed, he continued. “I’m involved with someone else.”

When I was little, I decided I would
never
get married. If marriage was what my parents had, I didn’t want any part of it, not the manipulation, the misunderstandings, the mind games or the pain, and especially not the divorce. Ever. But on Sept. 26, 1981, life dealt me a wild card. His name was Brian Bercht.

At the time, I was twenty and working as a draftsman trainee for an engineering company in Houston, Texas. My boss Tom was a man of character who was devoted to his wife and children. He was the first man to treat me with respect in the workplace. Tom was compassionate, wise, and an excellent mentor-which I needed.

I’d brought a mountain of personal problems with me to the job, like a snail carrying the weight of its house upon its back. I had money problems, relationship problems, self-esteem problems and, to top it all off, my seventeen-year-old brother was living with me, so that he could attend school in the United States. (Our Danish mother planned to join us as soon as she was able to sell her property in Europe.)

Six months of working with Tom had transformed my life into something I could be proud of. I felt like a truly free person. As a result, for the first time since I was thirteen, I was not only
not
dating anyone, I was completely uninterested in the whole dating game. Of course, this was the moment when my knight in shining armor decided to ride into town on his Yamaha 750.

Ironically, I met Brian while out on a blind date with someone else entirely. Tom set me up with a wealthy contractor named Dirk, a Canadian who was touring the U.S. by motorcycle with his buddy Brian.

Tom had fast-talked me into taking Dirk as my date to our company’s annual outing, a baseball game at the Astrodome with luxury seats in a skybox. Dirk asked if he could bring his fellow biker along,

which was fine with me. After all, I didn’t want to be going on a date, remember? Brian was twenty-two.

The three of us had a great evening together, and over the course of the next two weeks I showed the two of them all the sights of Houston. When Brian asked me to go out with him alone, I said yes. Five nights-and five dates-later, Brian was over at my place watching me bake chocolate chip cookies for him. We were laughing, talking, and joking while I worked, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.