Not Your Everyday Housewife (18 page)

Cyn deposited the last bag of groceries on the kitchen table and set down her purse. Tonight she planned to serve Chicken Marsala with homemade pasta and capers. She’d already bought Granny Smith apples for tomorrow’s dessert, deep-dish apple pie, Sam’s favorite.

She’d been home three days, and though she was exhausted from scrubbing six weeks of soap scum, ironing countless shirts, disinfecting toilets, and re-stocking the cupboards and three stomachs with homemade meals, it felt wonderful.

One task spilled into another until the day ended with Cyn falling into Sam’s strong arms. But the night didn’t end there, because gratitude overrode exhaustion as she pleasured her husband until he groaned his release.

This was her new life, her second chance, and she wasn’t going to blow it. Sam encouraged her to call about a broker’s license or at the very least, get back on the computer and start trading.

But she couldn’t.

Even the girls tiptoed carefully around, seemingly uncomfortable and wary of her new submissive demeanor. She didn’t yell, criticize, or demand. Cyn just took it all in, like a giant ball of air and bounced it back, grateful to be among them.

Each day, guilt seeped away like a yellowing bruise and the memory of Steve Miller’s handsome, smiling face faded. She’d only talked to Derry and Shea once, to return their phone calls.

Maybe she couldn’t talk to them right now because they served as neon reminders of Steve Miller and how she almost totally screwed up her life. Or maybe it had to do with the life she’d chosen now, homemade pasta and all, a self-imposed punishment they might not think she deserved.

And maybe they were right. But maybe they weren’t.

If she hadn’t pledged to this new self-imposed Martha Stewart mantra of swiping dust, sorting silverware drawers, and devoting hours to the welfare of the home, she might never have noticed the yellow paper wedged between the refrigerator and the counter. But Formula 409 and Lysol were her two new best friends with the broom and dustpan close seconds.

Cyn tried to snatch the paper but it slipped to the floor just out of reach. She grabbed a wooden spoon and kneeled on the linoleum, swatting at the yellow paper. After several futile attempts, she snagged an edge and dragged it toward her.

It was a discharge summary sheet from Mercy Hospital.
Apply ice to affected area. Ibuprofen or Tylenol every four hours as needed.
Schedule follow up appointment with family doctor in one week.
Discharge instructions from the night Kiki ran the Camry into a street light. Cyn started to fold the paper when the time-dated stamp on the corner of the paper caught her eye—2:22 a.m. Hadn’t Sam told her the accident happened around 10:00 p.m.?

She studied the paper, trying to reason the time difference. Why would Sam lie to her?

And then she saw the reason glaring back at her in small, neat script next to the patient name slot.

The element of surprise was often the best way to glean the truth, especially from formerly “trusted” individuals. So, Cyn busied herself rolling meatballs and baking bread, all the while counting the hours until she had her family together.

It happened at dinner. Janie had just finished saying grace and they’d taken their first mouthfuls of spaghetti, when Cyn spoke.

“What time did you say Kiki’s accident happened?” She addressed all of them but her eyes were on Sam.

He was a horrible liar. His eyes darted at Kiki and Janie, then back to Kiki before he swallowed a third of his wine and said, “I think it was around 10:00. That sounds about right.” His sandy brows pulled into a line and he repeated, “Yes, 10:00.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Janie threw her a horrified look as if she recognized the ploy Cyn often used on them.
If I ask you, it probably means I already know the answer
. Kiki kept her head bent, intent on twirling massive amounts of spaghetti onto her fork.

“I’m sure,” Sam said. “Right, girls?”

“Sure,” Kiki murmured, studying her fork loaded with five mouthfuls of spaghetti. Janie busied herself with a meatball, stuffing half of it in her mouth, a convenient way to avoid answering.

“Janie?” Cyn leaned toward her youngest daughter, also the weakest link. “Is that right?”

Janie kept chewing and shrugged.

“She wasn’t there,” Sam blurted out. “She doesn’t know.”

“You left her at home while you went to the hospital?”

“Right.”

“How long? Janie doesn’t like being alone at night, let alone with her sister in the emergency room.” Cyn forced a laugh. “Janie’s too inquisitive to let that slip by.”

“She was asleep.”

“At 10:00? I haven’t known Janie to go to bed at 10:00 since
she
was ten.”

“Why all the questions, Cyn?” He chugged more wine and said, “I handled it.”

“I’m just…” She paused and searched the faces at the table, but none of them would look at her, so she plopped the word “curious” in front of them.

Sam shrugged and bent over his plate. “It was a hell of a time. One I’d just as soon forget.”

“I’m sure.” She lifted her wine glass and took a sip. “But something just doesn’t make sense.”

“You’ve been watching too many re-runs of Columbo.”

She threw him a tight smile and countered, “I love Columbo. He always gets his man.”

“Except this isn’t an investigation. Or is it?”

Cyn halved a meatball and shrugged. “Not unless there’s something to investigate.”

“There isn’t.”

“Kiki? Is that right?”

Of course her daughter wouldn’t give her the common courtesy to look at her. She never had so why start now? “Hmmm,” was as much as she could get from the top of her dark head.

“Janie?” She saved the youngest, most vulnerable for last. “You stayed here alone while Dad went to the hospital for Kiki?”

Janie’s face scrunched up and her mouth curled into a knot. “I…”

Sam threw down his fork. “What are you doing, Cyn? Leave her alone.”

“I’m just trying to find out what happened while I was gone. What’s wrong with that?”

His face burned red beneath his tan. “If you cared that much, maybe you shouldn’t have taken off for six weeks.”

“And maybe you should try telling the truth.”

“She knows!” Janie yelled, tears streaming down her face. “She knows, can’t you see?” Her eyes darted from her father to Kiki, settling finally on her mother. “It was wrong to try to keep what happened from you. I’m sorry, Mom. I was the one—”

“Shut up!” Kiki’s threat sliced through her sister’s confession.

“
You
shut up! It’s all your fault anyway. If you and that jerk boyfriend of yours hadn’t snuck around in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have followed you in the car.” She looked at her mother and said, “She uses the emergency fire ladder to sneak out her window and meet Brad. I caught her twice.”

“So, you shoplifted,” Kiki spat out.

“And you’ve got condoms in your underwear drawer!”

Cyn grew hot and cold, her brain spinning so fast she thought she’d throw up. “Condoms?” was all she could manage.

“What the hell are you talking about?” This from Sam.

“Oh, don’t even start.” Kiki stood up and tossed her napkin on the table. “From the looks of things the other night, you could’ve used one.” Her green eyes glittered in disgust. “Or did Rita have her own?”

“Rita?” Who were they talking about?
What
were they talking about? Cyn felt as though she’d been dumped into a real life version of Talking Head’s,
Beautiful Life
.

“Cyn, I can explain.”

“Try it, Dad,” Kiki spat out. “Tell her how Rita was doing a lap dance on your lap with her tongue in your mouth.”

“That’s enough,” he said. “Both of you go to your rooms right now.” When neither daughter made a move to leave, Sam raised his usually quiet voice six more decibels
. “Now!”

Kiki and Janie scrambled out of their seats and ran from the room. When they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Cyn and laid a hand on her arm. “Cyn, I can explain.”

She stared at the spot where their skin touched, flesh pressed to flesh, and wondered how a woman could share a life and a bed with a man for twenty years, birth his children, bury his mother, cook his meals and wash his underwear, and still, not know him.

This man hovering over her, speaking words she couldn’t hear with such tender regard was a stranger. He looked and sounded like Sam Cintar, but he was just an aberration.

Her Sam didn’t lie about which daughter he’d taken to the emergency room and he would never cheat. Not her Sam. A vague numbness crept through, drying the tears on her face, settling her bones into a languid state of disbelief.

“I’ll tell you everything, Cyn, just listen, okay?”

Her eyes remained glued on the tanned hand massaging her forearm, flesh to flesh and yet, she felt nothing.

“When Kiki called me the night of the accident, I didn’t know at first that Janie was driving. I thought she was just a passenger. But when I found out, all I could do was imagine her mangled body trapped inside the car. I wanted you there so badly, Cyn, but you were on a vacation with your friends, and that made me furious. And I’d just uncovered the password to the online trading which made me even more angry and suspicious about the real reasons for your trip.” He sighed and stroked her arm.
Still, no feeling.
“Once I saw Janie and knew she was going to be okay, I didn’t see a reason to tell you. I know it was wrong, but I handled it.”

“I had a right to know.” The words slipped out of her mouth, cold and empty.

“Dammit, you’re right. And I’m sorry.” He leaned close and swiped a tear from her cheek. “As for the other, Christ, that was a nightmare. I’m going to tell you everything, Cyn, even some things you might not want to hear. Alec Rohan hired a private investigator to spy on his wife during your trip.” He waited for her response and when she said nothing, he continued, “He took pictures of Derry with Steve Miller. There were some of you there, too. Christ, when I saw that photo of you smiling up at that asshole as you entered his home and then when I found out you were there most of the night, I went berserk. Alec and I went to a bar to commiserate our situation and have a few drinks. He left, I didn’t. That’s when his intern, Rita, showed up. She came on to me and I had just enough booze and misery in me to let her.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No, I swear to God, on our marriage.”

“But you wanted to.”

“I wanted our marriage back but I thought you’d thrown it away with that asshole.”

“But you were the one who threw it away.”

“I didn’t.” He leaned in close and his breath fanned her cheek. “I swear to God I didn’t.”

Her gaze moved to the gold ring on his left hand.
Until death do us part
taunted her. “You let me beg for your forgiveness and you never said a word about what you’d done.”

“It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I tortured myself about the money for months and couldn’t get back fast enough to confess the sordid truth about Steve Miller. And you let me.”

“I really am sorry.”

“And the obsessive cleaning and cooking, you let me do that, too.”

“I thought you wanted to,” he said helplessly.

“Only an insane person would want to, or an extremely tormented one.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “And the nights, I gave you those nights seeking forgiveness.”

“And I gave back, seeking the same. I love you,” he said gently. “I’ve always loved you. Look at me, Cyn. Please.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the familiar face of the man she’d lived with for two decades and felt nothing.

Alec rubbed his eyes and stared at the document in front of him. He’d read the same sentence ten times and still he couldn’t remember what the hell it said.

Derry’s throaty laughter reached him through the French doors. He pictured her racing Charlie to the backyard for a game of freeze tag. Her hair would be mussed in a shiny, black tangle, her blue eyes bright, her full lips slightly parted. Was she wearing one of those second skin T-shirts with the scoop neck? And short shorts? Better yet, what surprises did she have on underneath? He grew hard just thinking of the numerous possibilities.

Shit.
He pushed away from his desk and stood. Maybe he should pack up his documents and head to the office for a few hours. At least it was quiet there.

Who was he kidding? He could be in a Tibetan monastery and he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He found himself in front of the window facing the backyard. Derry and Charlie were on the swings, kicking their feet high in the air, heads thrown back, mouths open, screeching in delight.

Alec smiled.

He wanted to hang onto these last four days and the ones to come before Sheila left for as long as possible. He and Derry shared casual conversation such as the details of Charlie’s soccer practice or the lawn service’s recommendations, or maybe even Sheila’s upcoming book release. It was all just chatter, thrumming through Alec’s brain like a mating ritual, increasing in intensity and duration as night approached and he waited.

Derry gave herself to him each night, willingly, openly, and with a sexual zeal that surpassed even their earliest days together. They never spoke of the deal they’d made, or what would happen once Sheila left. The only communication they shared in bed came in the form of raw desire expressed with hands, fingers, tongues, lips, and sex organs. No talking.

Sheila had mentioned at dinner last night that she planned to leave next week. Which meant Derry would move out of their bed. She’d hate him for the deal he forced on her. It was wrong, sick even, to use sex as part of a deal, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her as much as he wanted to stamp out every trace of Steve Miller’s touch on her body. The ferocity of his lovemaking each night filled his subconscious with the bitter truth. If these next few nights were all he had, then he would meld his body with hers, flesh to flesh, desire to desire because soon it would all disappear, like the maple leaves scattering the ground.

Alec cursed under his breath and pushed away from the window. When the phone rang, he snatched it up, grateful for a diversion. “Rohan residence.”

“She’s gone.”

“Sam?”

“You told me to tell her the truth but I didn’t listen. I was too damned afraid she wouldn’t understand.” His voice broke. “And now she’s gone.”

“Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

“Cyn found out I lied about Janie’s accident. And then we started fighting and Rita’s name came up.”

“How did it just happen to ‘come up’?”

“I yelled at Kiki and she threw it back at me. I tried to explain to Cyn but she didn’t care. She packed up and moved out of the house.”

“Give her time, she’ll come back.”

“Alec, I lied to her, intentionally deceived her and almost commit adultery. Would
you
come back?”

Alec ignored the question and asked instead, “Where’d she go?”

“Terrington Cove. Took Janie with her.”

“I’m surprised Derry didn’t mention it.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know.” And then, “I can’t lose her.”

“Just relax. You sound like shit.”

“We were wrong to do this, Alec. We shouldn’t have spied on them.”

“
I
spied on them, remember? Not you.”

“But I looked at the photos, didn’t I? And I was wrong about what I saw. So were you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Derry didn’t sleep with that asshole. She went there as bait to steal the photos he took of Cyn.”

“
What?”

“Your wife ended up exposing Miller’s blackmail scheme. He’s been doing this for years and she busted it up. She never slept with the guy, Alec.”

***

“Can’t you just stay another week? Even a few days?”

“If I do, sweet sister, I may never go home.”

“Would that be so bad?” Derry asked in a strained, embarrassed whisper.

Sheila set down her coffee mug and clasped Derry’s hand. The various pieces of metal covering her body jangled as she moved, creating a resonance that blanketed Derry in peace as calming as a rain stick.

And now that peace was leaving.

“I can’t stay, Derry, you know that.” She tightened her grip on her sister’s hand. “You’ve given me the greatest gift anyone could. A perfect ending.”

“But I don’t want this to be an end. I want this to be a beginning.” It was as close as she’d ever come to begging. “I need this. Please?”

If you leave I might lose you again … and then there’s Alec…

“You have your life and though I may be directionless at times, I have my own path. My sabbatical ends winter quarter and I’ll be teaching a class on Abnormal Psychology at Long Beach City College. It’s not Berkeley, but it’s a start.”

“You will keep in touch?” Sheila packed her life with the frantic madness of a hummingbird’s tiny wings.

“Of course, I will. And I want you to meet Rachel, too. She’s the sensible one.”

“You’ll call?” Derry persisted. “You can reverse the charges. And I’ll give you my e-mail. You do have a computer, don’t you? I’ll get you one if you don’t.”

“Derry.” Sheila spoke her sister’s name with the tenderness of a parent ministering to an injured child. “I’m not going to disappear. Okay?”

The rock in Derry’s throat made it impossible to speak so she merely nodded.

“I need you as much as you need me.” Sheila’s smile made Derry wish she had ten siblings. “Besides, trust me, my therapist will want to explore our relationship in microscopic detail.”

“I wish we’d met sooner.” Maybe it would’ve saved Sheila from years of feeling neglected. But no more. Derry would phone, write, e-mail, anything to let her sister know she was loved.

“You’re going to be a great sister,” Sheila said softly, her eyes bright with tears, “and an even better friend.”

“Thank you.”

Sheila pushed back a lock of silver-black hair, leaned in close and whispered, “Now just tell me one thing before I go. When are you going to tell that handsome husband of yours about the baby?”

***

“I can’t believe she moved and didn’t even call us.” Shea peered out the windshield of Derry’s Navigator. “Why would she do such a thing?”

Derry shot her a sideways glance. “You mean not tell us or leave?”

“Both.”

“I don’t know but we’re damn well going to find out,” she said as she turned down a secluded drive surrounded by pine trees.

Shea leaned forward in her seat and took in every detail. She’d only seen pictures of Terrington Cove in the real estate section of the Sunday paper. Rumor had it lots of celebrities rented these condos—exercise gurus, bank executives, entertainers. Each bathroom had a bidet which Shea found mind-boggling. She couldn’t wait to see if it were true.

“What’s the number again?”

Shea scrunched her eyes at the notepad in her lap. Damn, she’d forgotten her reading glasses again. She held the pad at arm’s length and read aloud, “27. I think it’s that way, past the tennis courts.” The condos were layered three high with stucco and terra cotta rooftops, like a wedding cake trimmed in cinnamon sticks. Each had a wrought iron balcony with hanging baskets of begonias, petunias, or impatiens, perfectly coordinated in coral, white, and red, to compliment the terra cotta roofs. Shea caught a peak of a tiny hibachi on one balcony, a gas grill on another, and, gasp, a bicycle on still another.

But other than those three little signs of outdoor living, there was nothing. No cars, no skateboards,
no people.
Not like Randalee Road where all you had to do was peek out the window every morning like clockwork to find Mrs. Andelson waist-deep in her hibiscus and zinnias, picking off Japanese Beetles and plunking them to their soapy deaths in a Burger King Biggie cup. Or Billy Vanderhorn in his skater jeans, circling up and down the homemade ramp at the end of the driveway. And you couldn’t forget Gladys Olschefski sneaking behind the garage every night to steal a cigarette when Mr. Olschefski went to his VFW meeting.

Shea couldn’t help but comment, “I hope she doesn’t plan on staying here long.”

“I hope she works things out with Sam so she’s back home.”

“Wow, wouldn’t Tula Rae go wild with these flowers,” Shea said, pointing to perfect balls of yellow and burgundy mums tucked behind a wrought iron fence. “And those.” She pointed out another similar cluster, this one snow white.

“They’re all the same,” Derry said with a shrug. “Look over there. All they changed were the types of bushes and the color of the flower. It’s like drinking Cristal seven days a week. After the seventh day, it loses its spark and you’re half wishing for a cup of good old Welch’s grape juice.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Shea said, “but then I’ve never tasted Cristal either.”

“Just trust me on that.” Derry pointed to one of the condos. “There it is.” She maneuvered the Navigator into the neatly marked space and turned off the engine.

Shea studied the black scrolled numbers next to the stained cherry door and murmured, “Do you think those are plated or real?”

“What do you think?” Derry slid the key out of the ignition and stuffed it in her purse. “Let’s find out what the hell’s going on.”

Shea climbed out of the SUV and fixed a smile on her face, just in case it wouldn’t flow naturally when Cyn opened the door. Of all of them, Cyn should’ve been the one shooting for a fiftieth anniversary bash, but now look.

How had everything gone so wrong? Ogunquit was supposed to provide a mini respite and instead it had facilitated a three-way relationship debacle. Images of Richard’s handsome face shot through her brain. He’d been the perfect husband these past few days, taking her to dinner, drawing her long baths scented with lavender, rubbing her feet.

It was driving her crazy.

Every time she looked at him, she saw Tanya Madison’s growing belly.

The door opened and Cyn stood before them, dressed in a silk print sleeveless top and slim black slacks, Ann Taylor style, not Cyn’s usual garb. She’d cut her hair to chin length, and was Shea imagining things, or did it look redder? More Sophia Loren? Even her lipstick seemed darker.

“Well?” Derry held out her arms. “Aren’t you going to invite us in to see your new digs?”

“Yes, please, come in.” Cyn sounded embarrassed as she moved aside, her gaze shifting to a point beyond them. “I was going to call both of you, once I got settled.”

“Friends don’t wait for friends to ‘get settled’,” Derry said, stepping into the sparkling white two-story foyer. “And from the looks of things, we could’ve been waiting a long time.”

Stacks of boxes lined the room that Shea guessed to be the dining room. Sony, Pioneer, Dell, more Pioneer. “These aren’t moving boxes are they?”

“No.” Cyn waved a hand over the boxes and pointed to the living room. “Everything’s new. The only thing I took from the old house was what fit in my suitcase.”

Shea ran a finger along the mahogany railing. “No photo albums?”

“No Maid-for-You mixer?” Derry asked.

A shock of pain flashed across Cyn’s face and vanished so quickly Shea thought she might have imagined it. “I don’t need any of that. I can buy everything I need.”

“Can’t buy friends,” Derry said, picking up a Waterford vase.

“He cheated on me.”

“Sam?” Shea almost dropped a glass paperweight.

“Well, maybe he stopped just short of having sex with the woman, but he would’ve if Kiki hadn’t intruded.”

And then the sordid, unbelievable tale of Sam and Alec’s intern spilled out of Cyn like pea soup from the Exorcist. If that weren’t enough, apparently he and the girls had been engaging in their own domestic subterfuge with Janie behind the wheel. Cyn’s voice grew louder as she spoke, her eyes wider, her perfectly made face paler. “I came home begging him to forgive me, and he’d done worse than me.”

“So, what now?”

“Now, I put on my Jones of New York suit and meet the manager of Phillip Dramen and Associates on Monday at 10:00.”

After a cup of oolong tea and amaretto biscotti which Cyn said she’d picked up at the Harry & David’s near Shaker Square, they said their good-byes with promises from Cyn to keep in touch very soon.

“What the hell happened to her?” Shea asked the second she climbed into the Navigator.

“I hope she’s just hiding underneath those Ann Taylor duds,” Derry muttered. ”Jimmy Choos can only carry a girl so far before she trips.”

“She looked like she was going to a dinner party not unpacking boxes.” Shea turned around and stared at Cyn’s new home as they drove away. “When have you ever seen her wear anything around the house but jeans and sweats?”

Derry shrugged. “New house, new look, I guess. Look at you, scrubs seem to be relegated to hospital hours these days.”

“That’s different.” Shea smoothed her peach top and shrugged. “I did look like a walking hefty bag in those scrubs. But Cyn looked great, just not like the Cyn we know.”

“We’ll give her a few days and then go back and talk some sense into her, okay?”

Shea frowned. “I’m not sure we should wait that long.”

“She’s got a lot to sort out right now and she doesn’t want anyone pushing her. I know how that is.”

Derry shot a sideways glance at Shea, who merely smiled and said, “Are you or are you not back in Alec’s bed?”

“It’s only because—”

“Uh-huh. Doesn’t matter why, all that matters is you are.”

“And you’re not sleeping with Richard?”

“Sleeping, yes, having sex, no.”

“Oh.”

“Cyn’s the one we have to worry about right now. The missing mixer is the giveaway.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil, care to elaborate?”