Part 7 (2/2)
”Maybe.”
”Gwyn?”
”Okay ... a little.”
”That's better. We'll work at improving on that when you get home.”
I had to cut Trevor off at that point because a teenaged boy was standing in front of me anxious to purchase a print. I gave a smile to my new customer, apologized to Trevor, then hung up.
When I arrived home late Sunday night, the lights were still burning, but Trevor didn't rush out to greet me as I'd hoped he would. I quietly shut the side door entrance and glanced up the stairs, then toward the kitchen, but Trevor definitely wasn't around. Home though. His car was in the garage. I walked upstairs and heard his m.u.f.fled snores as I stepped into the bedroom. I thought about waking him, but instead listened to him breathe for a while, then walked back downstairs.
As I entered the kitchen, I caught the unmistakably sweet scent of roses. Two dozen or more red ones, my favorite, swelled out of an antique-style vase on the table. A note poked out from between the petals.
I'm sorry if I'm not awake to greet you. If you walk in and I don't run out and carry you to bed in my arms it will only be that the spirit was willing, but my body was shot... I love you with all my heat, (heart). Trevor I laughed softly and leaned down and breathed in the rich perfume of the roses. He hadn't given me roses in a long time, not two dozen anyway. Maybe I was being too hard on him. All of the questions, all of the worry, had created so many doubts.
I undressed in the upstairs hall bathroom so as not to disturb him, then tiptoed into the bedroom once more. I laid my clothes neatly beside the bed, then eased in beside him. I laid my head back on the pillow, then blinked, turning my nose into the soft folds to again test what I'd sensed when I put my head down. It was perfume-not a leftover impression made by the roses-but the undeniable scent of another woman there on my pillow. My heart picked up speed, thudding wildly as my mind searched for an explanation to replace the unthinkable one that was rapidly filling my head.
I turned to look at him, wanting to take my foot and shove his body right out of the bed. So, he was too busy to call me all weekend. Too tired to talk when I called. Then as a cheesy afterthought, he'd bought flowers to a.s.suage his guilt. How very predictable and ordinary of him.
I slowly climbed out of bed and crept back down to the kitchen. I cried for a while, then sat staring at the flowers, wondering what would be my next move.
Chapter 6.
I pretended to be asleep when Trevor tried to wake me and make love the next morning. Not surprisingly, he didn't try all that hard. He patted me patronizingly on the shoulder, then headed to the master bath and turned on the shower. I watched him through the slits of my eyes. It had been all I could do not to reach up and slap him.
He picked his keys off the dresser, then leaned over the bed and kissed me on the cheek. ”I'll call,” he whispered, ”you get some rest.”
When I heard the side door slam downstairs I leapt from the bed and ran down to the foyer. I stood there, cold and naked, my arms clasped tightly to my chest as he backed out of the garage. Last night, after I'd gone back upstairs, I'd been tempted to find my flannel nightgown and put it on, but Trevor would have noticed, and I didn't want him to notice a thing.
Padding across the foyer tile to the kitchen, I spotted a note he'd left behind on the table.
You must have been a tired puppy too. I missed you this morning. I might be late again tonight. Sorry, honey. Please forgive me. Don't save me dinner, and call ”immediately” when you get up. Love you, Trevor I crumpled the note into a tiny ball and pitched it into the garbage. Shaking, but not so much from the cold, I stomped back up to the bedroom and threw on some clothes. I spent two hours brooding into my coffee cup, then dialed Linda.
She answered on the second ring.
”Well, hi, Gwyn. I was just making some blueberry m.u.f.fins and thinking of calling you too. Want to come over and have some with me?”
”Sure.”
”I think I'll be able to play tennis sooner than the doctor said. I've been slowly moving my arm and it's starting to feel almost normal.”
”I think the doctor was talking about your head, not your arm, when he said that.”
”Why? I don't play tennis with my head.”
”You know what I meant.”
”Hey, what's with you? I'm trying to be funny. You could at least try to laugh.”
”Sorry, rough weekend.”
”Oh. That's right. The art show. I didn't even think to ask. How was it?”
”Okay.”
”Just okay? You did sell some of your paintings, right?”
”Yes. Actually I made more sales than I expected.”
”Well, that's great. So what's the problem?”
”Nothing. I'm just exhausted. It was a lot of work.”
”I'm sorry I couldn't go with you-to help you out.”
”That's not why I invited you. I could have hired someone to help me. I didn't want to.”
”So tell me about it. You were so excited.”
I didn't feel like talking about it, but Linda would think it odd if I didn't. I had been excited about it ... before.
”Well, all right. It turned out to be a nice mall, a lot of foot traffic. I did have some trouble setting up. It started to rain, then sleet. I couldn't find my area, but when I did, saw that I'd gotten a good one-sort of an island with shoppers pa.s.sing on both sides. By the end, I'd sold at least half of what I brought and took several orders for prints and maybe an original. But the woman needs to give me a deposit for materials, and I'm not sure she won't back out. She was kind of flighty.”
”Well, that doesn't sound bad.”
”I guess.”
”Come on over. I'll cheer you up. We'll have a nice visit.”
”Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about.”
”What?”
”Not over the phone. And, please, promise me you won't come unglued. I just couldn't handle it today.”
”Well, what is it for pity sakes? You can't drop something like that on me and expect me not to react.”
”Just promise me you'll stay calm.”
”Why, what is it? Are you and Trevor getting a divorce?”
”No,” I said, wondering if this would eventually prove true.
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