“May I offer you a little snippet of advice, Vivien, my dear?”
“Of course.” I tried to appear relaxed and unfazed, so I smiled at her.
“If you don’t have anything nice to say then keep your pretty little mouth shut.”
Was she referring to me, or herself? That expression was not new to me. “What are you saying?”
She beamed at me sweetly, a tiny splotch of fuchsia pink lipstick stuck on her front tooth. “I’m telling you that Buck and I had the perfect marriage, and if anyone—I mean anyone—tells you different, they are quite simply… lying.”
Eight
By the time I got home it was already six-thirty. I had meant to call Ashton but ended up not having time. I did send him a text to let him know I’d be late and that I hadn’t organized anything for dinner. I hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed. I checked the mailbox again. No new note. I still had no clue, no inkling who had sent it.
Ashton was waiting for me, all bright and happy as if I’d been away for months.
He opened the kitchen screen door with a flourish and let me pass through. Ashton always opened doors for women, and if you were at a restaurant and got up to go to the bathroom, he would rise from his chair and give a nod, in a true gentlemanly fashion. He behaved this way with all women, not just me. Once, I witnessed him stop his car in the middle of a traffic-choked street, get out and help an old lady cross the road. The vehicles were honking their horns, but he didn’t care one whit.
“Honey,” he said. “How was your day?” He pulled me into a bear hug. His hug said it all. A release of tension from doing such a demanding, high-precision job. Operating on people’s nervous systems, with vulnerable lives in his hands every day of the week must be beyond stressful, I thought. Just one slip of the scalpel or laser. It didn’t bear thinking about.
He clasped me even closer and inhaled my hair. Then out came a long, appreciative sigh. We stayed like that, our hearts beating at different rhythms, but connected. These were the moments I treasured so much.
If only it had been like this always.
I finally broke the embrace. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get home, but I got involved at Community Promise and then I went to see your mom.”
“I know, thanks for the text.”
I waited for him to ask me how she was doing, but he said nothing.
“I wish you’d come too sometime,” I said. “She’d adore to see you.”
“I will. I will. Just so busy at the moment. She doing okay?” He said this without feeling, as if it was his duty to ask. He got some white wine out of the fridge and poured me a glass then fixed himself a Scotch on the rocks.
“She was in pretty good spirits,” I let him know. “Talked about your father, actually.” I hoped this would act as a springboard for Ashton to say more, but all he did was tell me a few stories about his dad and him going fishing.
After a while, I said, “It’s such a shame your mom can’t live with us in the guest house. Be independent yet close by.”
Ashton didn’t respond, just came out with, “I’ve made dinner, by the way.” He held both of my hands and appraised me for a beat as if to show how much he approved of me. I had made an effort for Georgia-May and was wearing a floral print silk jumpsuit and makeup.
“Vivien, honey, how come you decided to work on your day off?”
“I figured you’d be sleeping most of the day. And there’s this kid, this teenager, who really needs my help right now. You didn’t have to make dinner, Ashton honey, there’s a lot of stuff in the freezer we could’ve heated up.”
He led me to the kitchen table, where he’d set it up beautifully, with candles, linen napkins, and an open bottle of red. He poured me a fresh glass and handed it to me, then one for himself. We made a toast to our happiness.
I took a long sip then set my wine down. “The table looks beautiful.”
“I felt like cooking. It’s simple, just salad and pasta, nothing fancy. Informal, just here in the kitchen.”
I grinned. “Your lasagna with sun-dried tomatoes? My favorite?”
“Lasagna with the sun-dried tomatoes, your favorite.” He kissed me on the forehead and held my face before laying his lips gently on mine. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into my mouth. “You escaped earlier. My fault, I guess, for falling asleep on you.”
I abandoned myself to his kiss, my body blazing from the intimacy. He clenched me close again, this time with more urgency. It felt so good to be in his arms. I was safe in that moment. Treasured. All my troubles melted away as if there had only ever been perfection between us all along. As if hurt and betrayal and those degraded feelings I’d suffered had never played a part in our relationship.
“If you carry on doing that, there’ll be no dinner, I’ll carry you straight upstairs,” he said, and laughed.
“Fine by me. But the only problem is I’m ravenous.”
He pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down, relax. Thought I’d take you out on the boat tomorrow. It’s Sunday, we need a break. We’ve both been working too hard. I’ll show you some secret places that I used to go as a boy. Since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Little islands that belong only to the birds, and inlets leading to places that nobody knows about. Would you like that?”
“I’d love that.”
Through the summer, although we’d been out sailing, the ferocious heat of the sun was something I wasn’t used to. The weather was humid, unrelenting and, in the evening, the air thick with mosquitoes, so we tended to go swimming during the day or have dinner in the screened-in porch, rather than venture out on long boat rides. I was excited at the prospect of finally discovering these places that Ashton had told me about. He had two boats. The sailboat and a smaller motorboat that could slip its way through lagoons, sounds and riverine estuaries, even salt marshes teeming with seagrass.
Ashton stood there, his six-foot three frame hovering halfway between the table and the kitchen. He rubbed his weary, shadowed eyes. Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, the ropes of his muscles strained as he stretched his arms and yawned.
“Excuse me, I probably should’ve slept longer than I did.” He suppressed another yawn.
“Did the boy make it?”
Ashton didn’t answer.
“Your patient?” I prompted.
A sad resignation flickered in Ashton’s eyes, but then he said, more upbeat, “He’s in the hands of my team. If anyone can keep Brady alive, my team of doctors and nurses can. I say ‘my team’ but, you know, we’re all equal, we all have a stake in our patients’ lives. We work as one unit.” He shook his head resignedly. “I hate to say it, but Brady’s chances are very slim. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart, they’re not pretty.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s heartbreaking. His family must be out of their minds. They’ll live with that guilt for the rest of their lives.”
The loaded gun in the house.
I took a long sip of wine, tasted the fruity warmth on my tongue and prepared my next sentence in my head. I came out with it in a gush. “I don’t like it, Ashton, that you keep that loaded shotgun in the house. It terrifies me. Considering—”