Tainted Love: contemporary womens fiction love story and family saga (Behind Closed Doors Book 1) (8 page)

"I won't have this, Faith." Both fists thumped the chair either side of my head. Cal leaned into to me, so close I felt his breath on my face. "I won't have this at all. If you don't want any more children, tell me. Don't lie to me!"

His eyes... they were so intense. He looked like he was ready to hit someone. Anyone! And I was the only person there. I've never been so scared in all my life. My pulse bumped just below where the heat of his hand burnt against the base of my neck. The sound of the children playing outside was all but a distant memory to the blood rushing through my ears... and I'm sure I'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Goddamn it, Faith! How can you do this to me?"

When his enormous hands smothered my neck and jaw, I honestly thought he would hurt me. I actually let out a screech of some kind. It disappeared beneath a hot and fiery kiss. Oh boy, hadn’t I seriously misunderstood. Right there… with you and your friends so close by... we, em… well, we made a miracle happen of our own. I’m surprised we weren’t caught!

Chapter Sixteen

We bought a Christmas tree on December second the year before you turned eighteen the following January. We put the trimmings and the mistletoe up, no wreath. Cal even put lights on the roof. Do you remember we went to Rockefeller Center? Georgia was crazy over the idea of ice skating, but the weather was too bad and they’d closed it. Cal promised her he’d organize another weekend where he could take her, but she was persistent and difficult and acting like a little spoiled brat, demanding I take her the next weekend.

In the end, he snapped. Cal never raised his voice to Georgia, but he told her she’d have to wait, and if that meant waiting until next year then so be it, because I was not stepping on the ice while I was pregnant. None of you knew the news yet. We hadn’t found the right time to tell you, and when December came, I told Cal it was up to him. If he wanted to tell you this month it was okay, and if he wanted to wait until the New Year, that was okay too. December was always difficult for him.

I finally learned the secret of why he was always home late when the practice closed early on Christmas Eve. He went to the cemetery. And this year, he asked me to go with him.

Oh yes, he had his moments. But this year, he seemed to enjoy the holidays for the first time. I thought he'd laid his ghosts to rest. I was hoping for a pregnancy we could share. One where he'd come to doctor’s appointments, go to classes, gush over sonogram pictures. After all, this had been his idea. I was wrong.

He started to get moody, started to make promises he didn't keep, started to... dare I say it... to be the old Cal. As I grew excited about the baby, the more he withdrew from us. It wasn't until Dylan started to move did I notice he stayed later at work and left earlier in the morning. He wasn't at home more than long enough to sleep. The fourth clinic and the overall expansion of the McKenzie Medical Group were taking up most of his time.

On the day of my twenty-six week scan, he promised he'd come to the appointment but he promised he'd come to all of the others too and forgot. So I called. He wasn't happy I'd called to remind him. And guess what? He didn't come. I was furious but I didn't say anything because, you know, this is Cal. He was forty-three years old and a leopard couldn’t change his spots, right?

The thing was I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. So when he asked me what I was doing the following morning, I was by no means in the mood for sharing.

"If you'd been there Cal, you'd know." I continued checking my blood sugar levels in our bathroom, out of the way of you, Georgia, and Caleb. Later, I would tell you. When I'd wrapped my head around this, figured out how to manage it, work out the words the younger ones would understand. It was only temporary, but if something happened to me when we were alone, they needed to know what to do, or be able to tell someone I had problems with my blood sugar because I was pregnant.

"Fay —"

"It’s fine," I sighed, "but you must realize as much as we pretend he's an accident, we’re fooling ourselves."

"He? You found out? But we agreed not to, just like the others."

Those were the days when he was happy. The day I'd seen the sparkle in his eye that he'd gotten something he truly wanted. I thought things had changed. They hadn't. "Yes, Cal. Again, if you'd have been there, you'd know why."

"Don't take that tone with me, Fay. I had a problem with a patient which couldn't wait."

"But a problem with your wife and unborn child could?" He flinched. "You know what? Forget it. It's not life threatening and we're both going to be fine. But it would have been nice of you to tell me you didn't want any more children before we got this far, because to be honest, I can't keep up anymore. This time, it was
your
idea."

He stepped closer. "I'm a doctor, Faith." His height and width advantage blocked the light in the small room. "Just because I don't work at a hospital it doesn't mean I don't have medical emergencies." The edge in his voice stroked a warning along my spine. "Look at me."

I couldn't. I was terrified of what I would see there.

"I said," a hand grabbed a fistful of my hair at the back of my neck and yanked my head backwards, "look at me!" His hawk-like eyes bore into mine. "I won't apologize for doing my job."

"Cal?" I gasped. "You're hurting me!"

"Hurting you? I'll do more than hurt you if you speak to me like this again."

What? This didn't make any sense. How had we gotten here? "Cal, I'm sorry." Tears filled my eyes. "It's not your fault. Yes, I'm angry at you, but it's not really you, Cal, it's the situation. You've never been to an appointment; of course you'd think this one was no different. You weren't to know they'd tell me I've got gestational diabetes. And you promised you'd be there, but you weren't. Now there's so much more to think about... and possible risks... and complications... and... I'm so sorry."

"Shush." His arms wrapped around me, and he soothed away my worries as though nothing had happened. "It's all right, Fay. Everything is going to be all right."

But I had a sinking feeling. There was something giving me a sick little warning and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Like maybe a sixth sense, deep in my gut. Something telling me
don’t be so sure
.

Of course, I ignored it.

Cal always had bursts of temper. They were infrequent, only occurred two or three times a year, but they were usually because I did something to trigger them. Like when I put up the Christmas decorations on the anniversary of his wife's death, or when I called him a liar and sided with you over financing your college education, and when I didn't take the unused pills back to the pharmacist. This time, I was in trouble because I didn't tell him about the pregnancy-related diabetes when he came home from work.

I had to admit, over the years his flares of temper became more frequent. But if I managed to keep on top of everything, avoided the things I'd learned would upset him, it wouldn't need to happen again.

The further the pregnancy progressed, the more these outbursts occurred. I tried to be patient and understanding. The risks involved must have triggered some memories from bad times. I certainly hadn’t helped by throwing it in his face the way I did when I knew how delicate these things were for Cal. But eight weeks later, he scared me. He was doing all the shouting in this particular argument. You were at your girlfriend's house, Caleb was at soccer practice, and Georgia was in her room getting ready for a hockey match.

He really scared me, D. I don’t remember why. They tell me I may never regain those few moments but all I remember is the feeling of fear, the sound of his villainous laugh, and a vague sensation of...how do I explain it…

Do you ever have that dream? The one when you’re running but not gaining any ground? That’s the sensation… maybe it’s because I was thirty- four weeks pregnant and getting anywhere was slow.

The next thing I knew I was in the hospital, and I wasn’t pregnant anymore.

Chapter Seventeen

Oh, my baby girl. She's never played ice hockey since. She won’t even go on the ice anymore. How do you convince a twelve-year-old she wasn't to blame for my accident? I fell over something she left lying around. How do you do that without telling her I was running away from her dad? I was running away from her hero.

And of course, I was back to being the stupid bitch, the crazy whore and the inane slut, because he had to bury another son. He didn't give a damn about me. He saw Dylan, held him, said goodbye. I was unconscious through the entire thing. He arranged the funeral. I didn’t get an opinion. Not that I could have given one even if he’d have asked. I was numb for the entire experience.

I tried to piece together the information. There was no way Cal would hurt me, so why did I run away? Whatever happened in our bedroom spooked me but what was it? I had no idea.

Things just got worse for us, and if I'm honest... our marriage should have ended there. But I didn't see it back then. There was too much pain. There was too much anger and too much pushing important issues aside, because we either didn’t want to deal with them or because of the children.

My heart breaks every time I think of Georgia back then. She was devastated. She burst into tears every time she saw me. She shouldered the blame for the death of her baby brother, for my injuries, and Cal didn't want to deal with it. He didn’t want to face it. He couldn’t see her in so much pain. He buried himself in his work and I had to beg him to talk to her about it, just once, just to see if she had post-traumatic stress. He was the expert and he was the only one who could reach her. He was her hero, after all.

Of course, when he realized how damaged she was by it all, it cost me. My irresponsible fall downstairs had not only killed our son, but traumatized our daughter. He made me pay for it. No, three cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a miscarriage hadn't been a high enough price for Cal. He was furious, angrier than I’d ever seen him before but still, I wasn’t expecting the broken nose he added to my debt notice, too.

I know... and I'm sorry... I lied to you. I said it was the concussion; that I went dizzy and I fainted in the shower. Even then I knew what was happening, with refreshed memories of his hands clutching at my hair. I remembered the day in the study when he had his hands around the top of my throat. I saw that day on the beach with his body crushing against mine. I saw marks of years gone by, saw the bruises still to come, and no matter how hard I tried, they just wouldn't go away.

How did I explain it when you found me sobbing in the bathtub? When your first reaction was to fetch your hero, Cal? So I told you everything was okay. I sucked it up and I put on a brave face. I told you not to worry about me, to focus on your scholarship at the pre-med college of your choice. Didn’t I say every marriage had their make or break defining moments? This was just one of ours. When I placed it all in perspective, things really didn't seem so bad.

Of course, right now D, I’m ignoring the fact it wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. I can’t go back and talk about those days. We have no photographs and there aren’t any fond memories for us to share. And once again, I’m jealous of my husband because he has something I don’t, and I wish I knew why. Because until then, I’ll never be able to think about the baby I never held, and never saw, and not... not… well, maybe another time.

Chapter Eighteen

June 1993

There's always been one thing about my marriage I've always been proud of; our ability to create fireworks in the bedroom. I know that sounds really pretentious, but it’s never gone away. You’ll have probably heard from married friends about falling into routines and only having sex on special occasions, or maybe ‘being on a promise tonight’, but that’s never happened to Cal and me.

Except during pregnancies, even during some of our meanest arguments, he'd get that twinkle in his eye. You're a good looking guy, D, maybe you've seen it? It's the one that says, "Goddamn! You're irresistible!” And I'd find myself swept up in a tidal wave of passion before I even knew what was going on. Sorry if I’m making you feel a little uncomfortable, we don’t usually talk about this kind of thing.

And we’re not going to.

After Dylan, Cal and I argued. Or rather, he argued and I listened, agreeing in the right places, or disagreeing in the right places, because I knew one step out of line would tip him and I'd pay. He loved me. I knew he loved me. It was just that this was extra hard for him. He told me this was extra hard on him. I stayed closed off from the rest of the world but he had to go to work. He had to run the family business. The McKenzie Medical Center was in half a dozen cities now. He couldn't sit around and mope, like me.

So I sat there, night after night, looking at him as he prowled the bedroom like a caged bear. I was his meal but he never once approached me, never once touched me, and never once looked at me. Cal had found himself another woman. Didn't he think I knew?

If you're ever foolish enough to cheat on your future wife when you finally meet her, D, then don't say I haven't warned you. A wife knows these things. It’s A, whether she chooses to accept it, and B, whether she chooses to do anything about it. In my case, I accepted it. He needed time to heal. He needed something more than I could give. So no, I didn’t do anything about it.

He thought he was being discreet but I’d developed a sixth sense. I’d become so attuned to his every expression, his every moment, his every sound, his every breath, his every scent, his every touch, that I knew the very day she appeared. It was on our fourteenth wedding anniversary and he didn’t think I’d notice?

He smiled to himself, spending a lot of time on the phone in the study “working”. His cologne would have a hint of jasmine when he came home from work that wasn’t there when he left in the morning. You know she had red hair, wore red lipstick, and wore cheap red underwear he tried to pass off as mine. I've never owned a pair of red lace briefs in my life, and at thirteen, neither had Georgia!