The Consequences (20 page)

CHAPTER 35

“R
obert. Robert.”

Robert Walker opened his eyes and looked around. He knew where he was . . . in the bed of his lover. He smiled as her face leaned in toward his. “Hi . . .”

“Hi.”

Then the bubble burst. The smile faded as his eyes moved toward the curtains, which were closed. “My God, how long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours. It's almost nine.”

Nine. Where had the afternoon and evening gone? He remembered having a shower, the hot water an incredibly sensuous and satisfying experience. Then he'd wrapped himself in Stephanie's red flannel robe just to dry off and then . . . He'd no idea how he ended up in bed with a thick duvet over him. He jumped out of bed. “I've got to go. . . .”

“You've got to eat,” Stephanie said firmly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray in her hands. It held a broad flat pizza flanked by a bottle of ginger ale and two glasses. “I ordered from Zesto's. My fridge was empty, and I didn't want to leave you.”

Robert looked at the ham and pineapple pizza and started to shake his head—he had to get back; Kathy would be frantic and furious—but then his stomach betrayed him, and rumbled loudly, and he suddenly realized that he was hungry, ravenously hungry. “Just a slice then,” he said with a grin.

He ate quickly, while he worked out his excuses for Kathy: He'd called on a few friends in the business, and they had ended up talking about Jimmy. That had led to a couple of drinks and then a meal. He hadn't been able to call her because his battery had run out. Would she believe it? It was plausible enough. Like all good lies.

“When did you last eat?” Stephanie asked eventually.

He shook his head. “I've grabbed a few bites on the run. When Jimmy . . . when Jimmy died, I was left to make the funeral arrangements and contact his family. Two of his three brothers are coming home. They're spread all over the world: Lloyd is in Australia, Mikey's in Canada, and Teddy's in New York. I spoke to Mikey, the oldest. He told me to go ahead with the removal, but to delay the funeral until they arrived.”

“When will the funeral take place?”

“Monday the thirtieth, at Forest Hills Cemetery.”

“That's just a few blocks from here.”

“I know. Teddy and Mikey are coming in tomorrow morning, but Lloyd's not going to be able to make it.”

“That's a shame.”

“True. But they've never been close. Jimmy never really told me the full story, but I know he went to live with his mother when the family broke up, while the older brothers chose to live with his father. When his parents separated, it destroyed all their lives and shattered the family. Almost exactly like my own experience.” He glanced up at Stephanie and smiled. “I'm sorry; I've done nothing but talk about me. Tell me what you did over Christmas. You went home?”

Stephanie nodded. She lifted the tray and moved around the room to put it on the nightstand. Then she leaned back against the windowsill and folded her arms. “I went home. It was a last-minute rush, and I had to go via Chicago and Milwaukee, but I made it back late on Christmas Eve, and I'm glad I went. It was good to see Mom and Dad again. They're getting old, Dad especially. I know people say that time slips by—it doesn't; it races. I'm going to try to get home regularly, maybe every second or third month, to keep in touch with them.”

“That's a good idea.” Robert pushed away the duvet and slid his legs out over the edge of the bed. He glanced sidelong at the clock on the nightstand. It was after nine, and the roads were probably icy. It would be after ten before he got back. “I really should be going.” He tugged on his underwear, pulled on his socks, and stepped into his pants.

And then Stephanie suddenly, shockingly, exploded. “Hang on a second! We've talked about everything but the most important thing: us. Me. And the fact that I'm probably pregnant.”

He opened the closet and pulled out one of the shirts he'd left there for emergencies. He was surprised by her reaction. He'd thought when she hadn't brought it up earlier that it was no longer an issue. He had assumed that she'd come to a decision. He turned to look at her as he did up the buttons. “How sure are you?” he asked.

“Sure?”

“Sure that you're pregnant.”

“Almost positive. I'm nearly two weeks late now.”

“Did you do a test?”

“Yes. It came back positive. That's why I came home.”

He nodded as he tucked his shirt into his pants. He was no expert, but while two weeks was late, he didn't think it was
that
late. “So, let's say you are. What are you going to do about it?”

Stephanie came off the window ledge to stand directly in front of Robert. She was radiating anger. “What do you mean by that?”

Taken aback, he blinked in surprise. “I mean, you can't seriously be thinking of having it?”

“Of course I am,” she whispered.

What was she thinking? Well, obviously, she wasn't. Surely she wasn't going to throw away everything she'd spent years building? Maybe it was her jet lag and a highly emotional state that were confusing her thinking. “But you can't,” he said, keeping his voice reasonable. “You've got this place . . . and then there's your job. You can't have all that and a baby.”

“I could if I had a partner.”

At no point in Robert Walker's New-Year-New-You plan was there room for a baby. He'd had his children seventeen and fifteen years ago; he'd done all that; he didn't need to do it again. Gathering his thoughts, concentrating on his cuffs, he said carefully, “If I'm the father of this child . . .”

She cracked him across the face, the force of the blow snapping his head to one side, shocking him, the pain and the surge of her anger surprising him.

“How dare you! You are the father. There's been no one else.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, pressing the palm of his hand to his stinging cheek. This was obviously his week for getting slapped in the face—and on the same cheek too. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. It just came out wrong.” He wasn't trying to suggest anything; he had no doubts that there was no one else in Stephanie's life. “I mean, let's be logical about this. I don't want to start again. C'mon,” he pleaded. “You don't either. You're on the corporate ladder—a child would stop that dead. Neither of us can afford to have a screaming baby in our lives.” If he could just appeal to her common sense, he was sure he could make her see reason. “And what would I tell Kathy and the kids?”

Stephanie remained silent, and he guessed that he was getting through to her. He knew she'd see sense in the end. He'd gotten her into this situation, so he was quite willing to help her get out of it.

“I'll pay for the abortion, of course. And we'll go on with our lives.”

He smiled as a sudden thought occurred to him: He hadn't told her the news yet—that he was going to move in with her. They would be living together in January; he wouldn't have to make any more excuses. He opened his mouth to speak. . . .

But Stephanie spoke first, her voice so low that he couldn't make out what she was saying. Was she agreeing with him?

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

And then she screamed, the sound shocking him with its raw savagery. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Dumb with surprise, Robert backed away from her. Stephanie reached for the nearest item—the pizza plate—and flung it at him. It missed and shattered against the wall, leaving a bloody smear of sauce. “You bastard!” she gasped. “You bastard!”

“Stephanie . . . I'm just suggesting . . .” This was a woman he did not know. This was a stranger . . . and she was terrifying.

“You've got a key to this house. Give it to me,” she demanded.

There was no point in arguing with her at this point. As he tugged the key off of his key ring and dropped it on the bed, she was rummaging through the closet and flinging his shirt, his tie, and his patent leather shoes across the room at him. “Stephanie.”

“Give me the key. Give it to me!” she screamed.

“Let's talk.” He tried to reason with her. “I know you're upset—”

“Upset? I am way beyond upset. We're finished,” she said icily. “Don't you ever speak to me again.”

He'd talk to her in a day or so, he decided, but right now, her face was set in a mask that robbed any beauty from her features.

“I loved you. I loved you with all my heart. Now, I see you for what you are: an egotistical, arrogant bastard. This isn't a problem to be solved; this is a life and a future we're talking about. And you think an abortion will solve everything! A quick abortion, then we go on as if nothing has happened? I hate you, Robert. No, more than that. I despise you. Now get out. And don't come back. Don't ever come back.”

Still not entirely sure what had happened to set her off like that, Robert hurried from the house, pulling the door closed behind him. He threw the shirt, tie, and spare pair of shoes on the passenger seat as he climbed in and started the car. As he pulled away, he thanked God that he hadn't told Kathy that he'd intended to leave her on Monday after Jimmy Moran's funeral.

Book 3

The Wife's Story

When I discovered the truth about the affair, I hated him.

He had betrayed me, betrayed my love, betrayed eighteen years of marriage.

But I still loved him.

And he said he still loved me.

But did I believe him?

Would I ever believe him again?

CHAPTER 36

Tuesday, 24th December
Christmas Eve

 

 

“J
ingle bells . . . jingle bells . . .”

The irritatingly cheerful polyphonic version of “Jingle Bells” her son had put on her cell phone surprised Kathy Walker. She wasn't expecting any calls. Keeping her eyes on the road, she rummaged through her purse on the passenger seat; probably one of the kids wondering where she was. She fished the phone out of her bag, but before she answered, she glanced at the screen: Robert Cell.

She didn't want to speak to him.

At this particular moment, Robert was the last person she wanted to talk to, but she still hit Answer and switched the phone to speaker. “Yes?” she said shortly.

Her husband's voice sounded flat and echoing, the speaker robbing it of all emotion and inflection. “Hi . . . I was just wondering . . . just wondering how you are.”

“I'm fine,” she said shortly. Under the circumstances, that was probably the most stupid question she had ever been asked. How did he think she was?

“Where are you?”

“Almost home. Where are you?”

“In Mission Hill. I stopped to give Maureen her Christmas bonus.”

“Good.” Well, at least he'd had the good manners to do that. She'd been disgusted to learn that he hadn't even bothered to visit Maureen when she was out sick over the past number of weeks.

“She told me you'd spoken to her.” He made the simple statement sound like an accusation.

“Yes, I have.” She could understand now why he wouldn't want her talking to Maureen—or indeed any of their few mutual friends. She also understood why he hadn't invited her along on any of the social events or business dinners over the past months; he had probably been terrified that someone would say something to her about his mistress. Or, worse still, that Stephanie Burroughs would be there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice popping in and out as the signal wavered.

“How do you think I'm feeling?” she snapped. “I've just been to see my husband's mistress. I've just learned some very ugly truths. We'll talk later.” She hung up.

Truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure how she felt. She thought she'd feel worse, but if she could put a name to one overall emotion, it was relief. His affair was out in the open; now they could move beyond the suspicions and lies, deal with them, and go forward. And mingled with the relief was something else: shock and astonishment. And pride. She had fought for Robert.

And won.

And no one was more surprised or more proud than she was. She hadn't thought she had it in her.

The anticipation of the encounter with Robert's mistress had definitely been worse than the actual event. She'd built up an image of Stephanie Burroughs in her mind as a scheming, manipulative home wrecker who'd deliberately set out to steal Robert away from her. Yet the truth could not have been more different. If Stephanie was to be believed—and Kathy did believe her—then the woman had only allowed herself to have a relationship with Robert because she thought that his wife didn't love him. Kathy had been watching Stephanie when Robert admitted before them both that he still loved his wife; and she had seen the look of genuine anguish in the younger woman's eyes. It was at that point that Stephanie had backed away, confessed that she'd made a mistake, a terrible mistake, then told Robert to go back to his wife. . . . “If she'll take you, that is. . . .” she'd added. In that moment, Kathy had liked—even admired—the woman.

In other circumstances, Kathy thought, they might have been friends.

When she'd set out to confront Stephanie, Kathy hadn't known how the day would finish up. On the drive over she prepared herself for the worst: that Stephanie would fight for Robert . . . and that Robert would want to go to his mistress. Kathy even prepared the little speech she would give the children. Having Robert walk in on the conversation had been both terrifying and disgusting. He'd turned up at the house laden with an armful of presents. When was the last time he had taken his time over choosing a present for her, rather than just grabbing something at the last minute at the local Brookline florist?

But Kathy wasn't going to need the speech for the children—not yet anyway—because Stephanie had done the decent thing. She had walked away. The only one of the three of them who had come out of this affair badly was Robert. He'd lied to her, lied to Stephanie . . . probably even lied to himself. How did he think the affair was going to end? Was he one of those men who thought that he could have his cake and eat it too, that he'd be able to manage his wife and mistress without someday having to face the consequences? Robert hadn't been thinking—at least not with his brain.

Kathy was eager to get home; she still had the turkey to prepare for tomorrow's dinner, though she didn't think she was going to have any appetite. Her stomach had been upset from the moment she left home to drive to Robert's mistress's condo. Once they got through Christmas, she would insist that Robert go to a marriage counselor with her. A problem like this obviously needed professional help. Robert wouldn't like it, she knew that—he was an intensely private person—but she'd make it one of her conditions. If they were going to stay together, then things would have to be different. He would have to change. She vowed that she would as well. There was no denying that if she'd been paying attention, to him, to the business, to their relationship, then he would never have found either the time or the opportunity to start and then maintain an affair with Stephanie.

As she turned onto Boylston Street, Kathy suddenly smiled. A bizarre thought crossed her mind: She should be grateful. At least she now knew that there was a problem in their marriage, and she had an opportunity to fix it before the problem became insurmountable. Her late mother had always said that Kathy could find the good in every situation. Her mother had been dead for the past eighteen months . . . just about the same length of time Robert had been having his affair. Kathy wondered if the two events could, in any way, possibly be connected. Had Kathy retreated in her grief? Had it made her so selfish, so painfully blinded by her own loss that she couldn't see what was going on around her? Her therapist said that her mother's death had triggered a fear of her own mortality. Well, her therapist was going to have a field day with the new information she'd be bringing to the office next visit.

Kathy slowed as she turned down her road. Although the weather had turned bitterly cold, there were plenty of little kids running around, bundled up in thick anoraks, Bruins hats, and woolen scarves. When they were wrapped up like that, she knew all sounds were muffled and their range of vision was strictly limited. She kept reminding Robert of that every time he drove down this road—she was convinced that he drove too fast through the neighborhood. Not that he listened to her of course; in fact it had been a long time since he had sought her opinions on any subject. Her lips twisted in a smile; it had been a long time since she had volunteered an opinion. What had happened to the self-confident young woman who'd gone to Bard, and double majored in philosophy and global marketing? The self-reliant young woman who'd traveled through Cambodia with the Peace Corps. The self-assured young woman who wanted to set up her own production company and make documentaries and features? Eighteen years of marriage, children, and keeping a home together, that's what had happened.

Maybe it was time to start again.

The situation was serious, but she figured that they'd weathered the worst of it and managed to come through with a reasonable amount of dignity. There would be some tough times ahead, and although she still loved Robert—she didn't really like him right now. He'd said that he loved her. If that was true—and she had to believe that it was—then they had something they could work with; they could start again and go forward together.

There were more cars than usual parked at the curbs and in the driveways; Christmas was a time for family and visitors. As she was turning into her drive, she caught sight of a big, dark blue SUV making its way gingerly down the road behind her. Kathy's wry smile faded; it looked like she was about to have a visitor of her own, someone she would definitely not be sharing her latest bit of news with: her older sister, Julia.