Read Dry as Rain Online

Authors: Gina Holmes

Tags: #FICTION / Christian / General, #FICTION / General

Dry as Rain (8 page)

BOOK: Dry as Rain
11.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

As she followed me up the walkway, I felt her hands trying to smooth away a wrinkle from the back of my suit jacket. “You might want to get that dry-cleaned. Not only does it smell like your customers, it looks like you either slept in or on top of it.”

I threw a perturbed look over my shoulder. “Don't start.”

She grabbed my hand, forcing me to stop and look at her. “Baby, are you okay?”

I pulled away. “I'm fine. I'm just thinking about something at work.”

“You work too hard,” she whispered.

“What else is new?” I started walking again. There was a certain amount of comfort in settling back into one of our regular arguments. Hurrying in front of me, she blocked my retreat to the house. “You're not dead. That's new.” She bit her bottom lip and gave me what may or may not have been bedroom eyes.

“Kyra! Eric!”

We simultaneously turned to face the yuppie neighbors I referred to as
D.I.N.K.s
—double income, no kids.

Neighbor Brenda Harrington laid her pruning shears beside the boxwoods in front of her house and tugged on the sun visor framing her pasty forehead. Her husband, Bram, pulled off suspiciously dirt-free gardening gloves. They both wore jeans that were made to appear worn, with deliberate factory-made tears and uniformly frayed cuffs.

The Harringtons met us at the end of the walkway, wearing grins that looked as fake as mine felt. “Kyra, Eric,” Brenda cooed. “It's good to see you both.”

“Good to see you, too,” I lied, trying to nudge Kyra up the stairs by her elbow before these two phonies could say more than her mind could safely process.

Instead of appreciation, Kyra ripped her arm away from me and scowled.

Brenda shifted her weight to one leg and tilted her head to the side like a dog. “I can't remember the last time I saw you two together. We were really worried that you'd be selling soon and we'd be getting new neighbors.” She looked at her husband. “Isn't it nice to see them together, honey?”

As usual, Bram had pasted his hair with too much gel and hairspray, giving him a Ken-doll appearance. “It really is.”

If they said
together
one more time . . . I cleared my throat and tried, once again, to encourage Kyra up the stairs.

She batted my hand away and scowled harder. “You know Eric works a lot.” There was an unmistakable defensiveness in her tone.

Both Bram and Brenda tucked a thumb into their front pockets at the same instant as if they had choreographed the move. I wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn they had. Their whole life seemed choreographed to me.

I stepped in front of Kyra like a human shield. “If you'll excuse us. My wife was in an accident and—”

Kyra stepped out from my shadow just as the couple gasped. Bram's eyebrows fell in an exaggerated dip while Brenda's hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh no! Are you okay?” Her gaze jetted over Kyra's body, searching for evidence of injury.

“She's fine,” I said, “but she has a concussion, so her memory is a little hazy. I'm sure you understand that I want to get her inside and lay her down.”

Kyra nodded solemnly, looking relieved for the out.

“Oh, of course, of course,” Brenda said. “I just wanted to remind you that our godchild, Adel, is competing with her pony club this Friday evening. Kyra, you had said you'd try to make it, but now that you two are,” she paused, giving Bram a private look, “well, it sure would be nice to have you both there.”

“We'll look at our schedules,” I said, knowing we'd both have something, anything, to do that night.

“Fair enough, neighbors.” Bram took his gloves from his back pocket and slid them back on.

I waved a good-bye, but the couple just stood there.

“Well, okay then,” Kyra said, waiting, like me, for them to get the hint.

When they didn't, I ushered her inside, leaving them standing alone on the sidewalk. I shut the door and peered through the peephole. They were still standing there staring up at the door as if they expected it to fly open and be invited in. I shook my head and turned around.

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Why do they think we would want to spend an entire day watching that spoiled brat—not only of no relation to us, but of no relation to them—prance around on her stupid pony with her nose stuck up the sky's butt?”

Heading for the kitchen, I heard her footsteps following behind me. I poured myself a glass of water from the tap and leaned my back against the counter. “They're something else,” I said between sips.

She pressed her body against mine and played with a button on the front of my shirt. I would have backed away if the counter weren't preventing me. Instead I cleared my throat and gave her a dull look, hoping she couldn't feel my heart pounding.

“I thought you said you wanted to lay your wife down.” She trailed her hand down the front of me, giving me no room to misinterpret her intentions.

I turned around to get away from her, giving her my back, and refilled my glass. I tried to gulp down a swallow of water but inhaled it instead. My body convulsed as my lungs tried to force the liquid out through violent coughs.

“You okay?” She backed up to give me room.

After a moment, my coughing subsided and I was able to catch a few breaths. “Wrong pipe,” I choked out. My glass clanked as I set it on the granite counter. “So, I guess I'll be getting back to work if you'll be okay.”

She frowned. “Already? I thought you, we, might . . . I mean, you don't know how much I've missed you.”

“Well, um,” I stuttered, probably wearing the same look I did when I was trying to get away from the Harringtons. “Mr. Thompson was kind enough to let me off two mornings to deal with this whole . . . but . . .”

Her shoulders drooped. “Rain check, then?”

I looked at the floor. “Sure.”

“When will you be home?”

I paused so long she probably wondered if I'd fallen asleep with my eyes open. What was I supposed to say? Maybe her memory would return while I was at work and I'd get an angry phone call. Sadly, that was really the best I could hope for. I decided to bide my time for now. “I guess it'll be late. I need to take care of some business and catch up. You go on to bed.”

She combed her fingers through the ends of her hair like she did when she was nervous. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe I'll invite Marnie over.”

She didn't remember her sister was out of the country on business, and I wasn't sure if I should tell her.

“I'll see if she can do dinner tonight,” she said and opened the refrigerator. It was nearly empty except for a few Styrofoam takeout containers, a head of browning lettuce still in its plastic wrapping, and a jar of dill pickles. She unscrewed the metal lid, dipped her fingers into brine, and lifted one out.

As she crunched into it I thought of Marnie and wondered if she would already somehow have heard about her sister's little adventure in Batten Falls. I didn't see how. She'd been in France for a month and it wasn't like they had any family besides one another to spill the beans.

No, she probably didn't know yet, but surely Kyra had called and told her that we were separated. I needed to get to her and let her know what was up before she got to Kyra. I wanted to believe my motivation was just following Hershing's orders to protect her, but I knew that wasn't entirely true.

* * *

With Kyra's cell phone in my pocket and my heart in my throat, I backed out of the driveway of my once-more home. By the grace of God, ingenuity, or sheer luck, I'd successfully navigated my way through the land mines of my wife's spotty memories and unpredictable emotions.

I slid her phone out of my pocket, feeling a little guilty about leaving her without one, especially since we'd dropped the landline. But what was the alternative? She'd have called Marnie. Then what? The gig would have been up.

I turned off Macabee and parked in front of a white colonial. A black cat perched in the window, watching me as I checked Kyra's text messages. All were deleted except one to Marnie, which just said a simple,
“Hurry home. Be safe.”

I dialed her number and pressed the asterisk. When it asked me to enter the password, I didn't really expect it to work, but surprisingly, it did. I couldn't believe that she hadn't thought to change her voice mail password since we'd separated. I could have been listening to her private messages this entire time for all she knew. There was one message from Bill Parsons, our youth pastor, asking about Benji, and one from Marnie, asking Kyra to pick her up from the airport that evening. Apparently her fashion-scouting trip had come to an end. Since I had to get to Marnie before Kyra did, I had no choice but to meet Delta flight 8319 at five fifteen.

I set the phone in my empty ashtray and shifted into drive, watching the cat watch me drive away. Thinking of the convoluted web I was weaving, I was more unsure than ever how to proceed with the medically-prescribed charade, or even if I should.

Nothing had prepared me for the raw pain of being thrust into the past. Of being looked at once again by my wife with eyes of love. Over the years her feelings for me had seeped out in such a slow trickle, the leak was hardly noticeable, until the pool lay completely dry. Seeing it full again made me desperate to dive in. I hadn't realized just how much I missed those waters. How much I missed her. But that wasn't my motivation for keeping her in the dark. I wanted to protect her. She was vulnerable, and I was still her husband. At least for a little while longer.

If only her accident had happened a year ago, or even a few days ago, how differently our lives might have turned out. I never would have believed how quickly she could stir up the old feelings in me with just one bat of her lashes.

Maybe she could forgive me too. A spark of hope ignited inside me as I turned left out of our neighborhood—until words spoken long ago echoed in my ears: “Samurai, I'll give you everything, forgive you anything . . . except that.”

Had she considered for one second that someday it might be
her
in need of forgiving?

Bloomless crape myrtles lined the side of the road, their multistemmed trunks reaching from the ground like gnarled fingers. I pulled along the shoulder and stopped beside them. A truck flew past, making my SUV tremble in its wake. I draped my arm over the steering wheel, lay my head down, and did what I had not allowed myself to do since my marriage fell apart. I cried.

What was I going to do? I had to tell Kyra the truth before someone else did. Of course, no one—not even her sister, Marnie—knew that I'd gone to bed with Danielle. Sure, Marnie might remind her of our e-mails, either unknowingly or, in her case, probably knowingly, but she couldn't fill her in on what she didn't know herself.

Kyra obviously had no recollection of the damage either of us had caused. What if she never did? I tilted the rearview mirror and checked myself. My dark eyes were puffy and red-veined, but they'd clear up on the drive to the dealership. After a Mazda Miata shot by, I adjusted the mirror, then eased onto the road.

I lowered the window, letting the morning air lap my face. How had I gotten myself into such a mess? Maybe it would turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Stranger things had happened. Maybe Kyra would never remember what I wished more than anything I could forget.

The double yellow lines splitting the road blurred into one as I stared at them. Even if she never figured out how far we'd strayed, I still had Danielle to contend with. I knew all too well how unpredictable a woman scorned could be. If I could explain things, make her understand the delicate situation and how sorry I was, maybe . . . just maybe . . .

Ten

“Danielle, you have a minute?”

Her pouty lips curled into a sly smile, reminding me why I had been attracted to her. Part cheerleader, part sex kitten, she did have a way. I motioned for her to come in. Her gaze traveled the length of my body as she sauntered past. I eyed the windows making up the far wall of my office. Nothing like trying to have a private moment in a fishbowl. Even if the showroom staff could see our every move, at least they couldn't hear what we said.

Danielle touched her neck, drawing my gaze to the creamy hollow beneath her ear I'd focused most of my kisses on the other night. “I hear Kyra's doing okay.”

Word certainly did travel fast. I forced my eyes off her skin. “She's back home.”

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at the windows. The staff appeared busy and unaware. “That's good news. Hey, if you don't already have plans later—” she inched toward me—“I was thinking maybe I could buy
you
dinner this time. Soho's downtown is supposed to be amazing.”

It had suddenly gotten uncomfortably hot. I pulled at my collar and stepped back. “See, the thing is—”

Before I could finish the sentence, Larry busted in. “Hey, ladies.” Beneath his glasses, his gaze barely brushed Danielle before taking on a hardness and settling on me. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need boss man here to okay a deal so I can close.”

BOOK: Dry as Rain
11.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Son of a Certain Woman by Wayne Johnston
Under a War-Torn Sky by L.M. Elliott
How to Be Lost by Amanda Eyre Ward
The Vineyard by Barbara Delinsky
Water by Harmony, Terra
The Beatles Are Here! by Penelope Rowlands
Astonish by Viola Grace