Is my marriage even valid? I grab creamer from the fridge, hands shaking as I absorb that shock. It was all a sham.
“Did you really not know?” she asks. “About me, his real name, any of it?”
I shake my head, offering her a mug of coffee before lifting mine to my lips, wondering what she must think of me. “I didn’t know a thing.”
“He’s a lying bastard,” she says. “That piece of shit,” she mutters before apologizing when she remembers the kids. “Do you mind if I use the restroom?” she asks. “It was a long drive and I’m a hot mess right now.”
I show her where a bathroom is before going to my bedroom and pulling on a bra, then slipping a black cotton jersey dress over my head. The color and fabric are forgiving and as I brush my teeth in the attached bathroom, I think just how unforgiving I feel. What the fuck is Ledger up to? This isn’t him. The man I know. But Emma’s words are simple, direct, and the proof is in the photos. The scar cutting across the bridge of his nose.
“How did you get that?” I asked him the first night we met, in the motel bed, my finger tracing the scar. I was already so wrapped up in him, his arms holding me tight.
“An accident when I was ten. My foster brother and I were sword fighting with sticks.” Ledger laughed. “He won.”
Now I splash cold water on my face, looking hollow and red-rimmed, memories surfacing too fast. I feel like I’m drowning, like a woman whose husband just died. Whose husband just left. Whose husband she never really knew.
My phone buzzes and I grab it, thankful it’s my mother. I close the door halfway as I tell her, with shaking breaths, what I’ve just learned.
“What in God’s name,” Mom mutters. And I squeeze my eyes shut. Not wanting to face this. Any of it. I want my husband here to explain this all away.
“I know,” I exhale, trying to remain calm. The last thing the kids need is me in meltdown mode. “According to Emma, he faked his death after I told him about the pregnancy, Mom. He left his wife for me. But it’s worse than that. She thinks he’s doing the same thing right now. That it’s me he’s left this time.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s weird, right, both car crashes?”
“You trust her?” Mom asks. I hear the pull on her cigarette. Can practically smell the smoke through the phone. “What if she’s batshit, Pen? Be smart about this. Where is she right now?”
I draw in a sharp breath and push open my bedroom door. I run down the hall to find Emma on the floor with the kids, as Tiny and Benny show her their Legos and Barbies that are spread out on the living room carpet.
Emma’s eyes meet mine, a soft smile on her face. “They wanted to show me their toys.”
I nod, pointing to the phone. “Just taking a call. Give me a sec?”
She gives me an understanding nod and turns back to Benny, who is demonstrating his rocket launcher.
I step out of the front door, keeping it open. “I don’t even know what I do from here.”
There’s another call coming in. Grand Slam Transit flashes on the screen. “I gotta go. It’s his work. Maybe they have an update.”
“How about I come over and get the kids, bring them here to go swimming?”
“Don’t you have work?” I ask.
“Penny, I took the week off, obviously. Your husband is… Well, he’s not here.”
The other line keeps ringing. “Right. Okay, see you soon.”
I hang up with her and accept the other call, but it’s too late. They’re already leaving a voicemail.
“Hello, Penny. This is Vance Donovan, an internal investigator for Grand Slam Transit. I know you’ve had a rocky twenty-four hours, but if you can give me a call as soon as possible that would help everyone move forward with this case.”
I frown, staring at the phone. The word case feels so heavy, so final. I expect the police to call it a case, but Grand Slam? From them I expect condolences. Walking back into the house, I ask Clementine and Benjamin if they had enough to eat.
“Yeah,” Benny says, carrying his empty dishes to the sink. “Bethany’s muffins are good.”
I tousle his hair, wrapping my arms around him, thinking that I should probably go talk to my neighbor. She’s probably freaking out. And she doesn’t even know the half of it. She wanted a wine night to dish on Joanne and Marty’s split — but the gossip about my life is one hundred percent more provocative. My marriage may be written entirely in lies.
“Grandma’s on her way over,” I tell him. “She’s gonna take you swimming again at the apartment.”
Clementine perks up at this. “Really?”
I nod. “Yep, so go put on your suits, and brush your teeth and hair, okay?”
Tiny bites her lip. “Mama, are you gonna be okay without us?”
I kneel down on the floor, pulling the pair into my arms. “I have some people to talk to today, people trying to find Papa, okay?”
“Okay,” Tiny says, her voice so small. “But first, can we call him?”
Benjamin nods. “Yeah, we can tell him we love him in case he’s lost and trying to get home.”
My heart aches at their innocence, their hope. The same sort of hope I held last night, in the early morning hours. The hope I had before Emma arrived on my doorstep and turned my world upside down. Everything can change so damn fast, in the blink of an eye.
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my phone. “Let’s call him and let him know we love him.”
He may not be the man I thought I knew, but he’s still their father — there’s no doubt about that. And our children deserve to love him without the bitter facts I’m trying to swallow.
I place the call on speakerphone, and as it begins to ring, I’m very aware of Emma, stepping closer to us in the kitchen. Tears fill her eyes again as she stands perfectly still, listening as the call goes to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s Ledger here. Sorry I missed your call. I’m probably busy watching The Bachelor with Penny or rolling around on the floor with the twins. Catch ya soon!”
“Hi, Papa,” Tiny says, her bottom lip trembling. “I love you. And I miss you.”
Benny scrunches up his little face, trying hard to be brave. “I love you, Papa, I hope you’re coming home soon.”
Tears flood my eyes and I look up, meeting Emma’s gaze. Her expression is unbearable and I can only imagine what it would be like to hear the voice of the man you believed was dead.
The twins end the call and I retrieve my phone. “I’m sure when Papa hears that, he will be so happy,” I tell them, unsure of what else to say. The fact remains that I’m holding my shit together right now for one reason and one reason alone: them.
They head to their rooms to get dressed and I rub my eyes. Exhausted and it’s not even nine a.m.
“I should go,” Emma says, reaching for her purse. “I barged in on you and I know this is a lot to process.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t go. If what you say is true, it’s up to us to find Ledger.”
Chapter Eight
Mom comes and gets the twins, her face blotchy, concern written in her eyes. I doubt she’s slept at all.