Coming Back Home

"You don't mind? I mean ..." She fumbled around for words. "I mean that it's, like, Drew."

I wasn't going to touch that. "Look. You're a smart woman and you'll make up your own mind. And I'm the last person in the world to be handing out relationship advice. Divorced, remember?"

Still, she hesitated. Then I could almost see her bite the metaphorical bullet.

"Why are you divorced?"

"Because my wife ran off with one of my friends to live in New York City, and for some odd reason, I wasn't okay with that."

The sarcasm didn't deter her. She dropped into the chair across from me. She waited expectantly, clearly wanting more. Did she have zero concept of boundaries? If she didn't, I did. I stood and went back to the den.

Avery came over and we were in the den later when we heard the outside kitchen door open. By some trick of acoustics, anything above a whisper in the kitchen could be heard clearly in the den. Drew probably thought he was being quiet, but we could hear the masculine grumble. "He's in there? Fuck, I better go." I met Avery's eyes in shared amusement.

That was followed by a few words of Madison's quieter hiss, "... polite ... say hello."

They pushed through the swinging door. I noticed the surprise on both of their faces at Avery's presence. Madison knew about the two of us. We'd been through that awkward-morning moment, handled with aplomb by the two women and with a red face by the man. But I'd driven, so Avery's car wasn't in the driveway.

"How are you doing, Dr. Liaci? Everything going okay?" Drew's question to Avery pulled my attention away from Madison to him.

The question had been to Avery, but his eyes were on mine, and his face was tight.

"Uh, why yes, Drew, it is," she answered. I could see the tone of his question wasn't lost on her.

The moment dragged for that fractional-second that edges into uncomfortable. If I had been alone, I'd have poked the bear with something like "Anything wrong, Drew?" as part of my no-fucks-given approach to opprobrium. But I wasn't alone. I was with a woman who was spending the night, and three minutes ago, my thoughts had been on lechery. I wanted to be back in that mood.

"Why don't you two go out into the living room?" I said. "That way you'll have privacy."

"What's his malfunction?" Avery asked as we closed my bedroom door behind us.

"He's Patrick Mackey's son." I handed over the whiskey I'd been carrying for her, her hands being full of overnight case and purse.

"And what does Patrick Mackey have to do with anything?"

"Patrick and I were in high school together. Along with Anne, my ex. He wanted her; they even dated for a short bit. But I got her. He eventually married Drew's mother, but she got sick and died a few years back. After a little while, he made a pass at Anne one night when I wasn't around. She turned him down, but it rekindled the jealousy." I stopped and took a sip of my drink before continuing.

"When Anne and I came back and started to fight about living here, he got wind of it. He thought his second chance had arrived. Then, she did the runner to New York. He went ballistic that I drove her away.

"He confronted me in a bar one night, stinking drunk. Said that, even though I was too pathetic to hold onto a woman, I shouldn't have spoiled it for someone who could have. He tried to take a swing at me, but some others pulled him back. Lucky for me."

I smiled to show that I had a sense of humor about it. I did. After all, she'd dated him first, so who had had trouble holding onto a woman?

"You couldn't stand up to a drunk?"

I looked at Avery in disbelief. "Have you ever seen Patrick?" I didn't wait for an answer. "He's about six-four, two forty if he's an ounce, and ain't none of it fat. High school may have been seventeen years ago, but I bet he'd be just as lethal a linebacker now as he was then."

"Hmm. Well, neither he nor Anne are here now, so why don't you figure out what you want to do with present company?" One hand raised her glass to her lips for a sip; one hand started popping buttons on her blouse; both eyes twinkled.

The sound of hammering interrupted our early morning sexy time. We managed to ignore it as Avery crossed the finish line like Willie Shoemaker, with me barely holding on to the end. As we lay there in a little sweat-soaked puddle, the rhythmic smacking sound filled the room.

"It's boiling in here, and it smells like someone had sex," Avery said. "I'm gonna crack a window."

"If that's Doug, you'll give him a heart attack if you do it like that." My bedroom window faced his house.

"Improves the circulation in old men," she laughed, "but he won't hear me over the hammering." She studied what my neighbor was doing. "He's putting up Vote For signs."

"Primaries are around the corner."

She continued to look out. "He must have fifteen signs up along the edge of his property, and there's a pretty distinct pattern to them. Oh look, another sign about an issue. He's one of those people who think they know all the answers about what's best for us."

"I think that might be an overstatement."

"Really?" She gestured out the window as if to say the proof was right in front of her. "Do you agree with those?" I got up and walked behind her to look.

"Some yes, some no. But actually, Doug cares more about others than most people I know. The fact that what he thinks is right doesn't always match someone else's opinion or mine doesn't change that." I leaned around her and cracked the window. Doug glanced up briefly, causing Avery to step back, and then he went back to his hammering.

"Come back to bed," I wheedled. She did and a pleasant Saturday morning was made even more pleasant as she lay on her side with me sliding into her from behind, my hands overflowing with softness while one of hers reached back behind her head to pull me in to nuzzle her neck while we fucked.

"No hickeys!" she laughed when my mouth became a little aggressive. I switched to nibbling on the lobe of her ear, continuing even when her hand left my hair to reach down between her legs and work herself in time with my thrusts until she exploded in her third of the morning and I followed shortly with my second.

Later, when I went over to get Lucy for a walk, Doug held up a sign.

"Can I put this in your yard?" He was grinning. He knew the answer. It was the same one I'd given him every year and my father had given him every year before that.

"Not a chance."

"Okay." As Lucy bounded up to me, he turned to go, then looked over his shoulder and winked. "She appears to be an extraordinarily ... healthy woman."

I laughed and nodded. I debated whether to tell her. I couldn't decide if she'd be embarrassed and pleased, or embarrassed and irritated at two guys united in appreciation of what she'd had on display.

The greeting I got later that week when I wandered around Bothwell to find her after dropping off Madison was a lot cooler.

"I thought you said you and Anne just didn't agree on living in Seylerton."

Well, I guess she's finally heard the rumors, was the first thought that popped into my head.

"No. I did say that we didn't agree on living here, but I don't think I used the word 'just' when I did. For example, we also didn't agree on her sleeping with a friend of mine."

I wasn't trying for a sympathy vote, but if I had been, it failed. Her face didn't thaw.

"Nothing else?"

"Everything else stemmed from that, so actually, no. Nothing else."

The still-tight jaw and sharp tilt of the head made it pretty clear my thought had been right. It also made it pretty clear what her reaction was. She thought my response was bullshit. She waited.

I could tell that answering her silence with my own disconcerted her. Also, that she read it as unwillingness to admit my guilt.

"Nothing to say?" The disdain was plain.

Did she think I was going to plead and claim something like "I'll never do it again"? She hadn't read me very well in the time we'd known each other. Well, obviously ... she'd already convicted me in her mind.

"So how bad were the bruises?" I asked.

The non sequitur threw her. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

"You know, the ones in the evidence pictures I assume the police took when I smacked her. I've never seen them. How bad were the bruises? Or did you only talk to people who saw firsthand the black eyes and choke marks? Maybe as a vet, doctors gave you some professional courtesy and you saw hospital reports?"

The confusion was still there. Now it mingled with "He's a freak."

The jaw tightened even more. She'd made her decision. "I think—"

"I've seen no evidence that you do that," I interrupted. I turned and walked away.

Carrie saw me stalking out. The expression on my face was certainly an indicator of my mood.

"Will?"

"Patrick or Drew or someone talked to Avery. She bought it."

The concern on her face morphed to something softer. "I'm sorry."

Madison, standing in the doorway of the office, looked on with concern. "See you later," I called over. "By the way, Avery may be your friend, but she's not welcome in my house."

I ignored the eyebrows shooting for the ceiling and headed home.

Later, as she helped me put the dinner stuff out, Madison brought it up.

"Carrie explained what happened."

I waited. Nothing. I waited for her to say "sorry" or ask how I felt, but she busied herself with silverware. Oh my God, was she finally learning boundaries? She could at least have said it was too bad that I was going back to a cold bed.

I snorted inside at my hypocrisy.

"You should finish high school," I said over breakfast one morning.

Madison froze.

"Well, or go to trade school if you want to be an electrician or something. But minimum-wage jobs forever is a bad plan."

"I'm not going back to Oregon," she said decisively.

"Finish here."

Finally, in a small voice, she asked, "I could stay?"

"You can stay as long as you want. I like having you here." That brought a flush to her cheeks. She thought for a bit, then shook her head.

"Transferring credits from West Kincaid would mean letting the pedo and the bitch, like, know where I am."

"I doubt that. You're eighteen and I suspect you could do a transfer on your own. But if you're concerned about that, get a GED. You might have to study a lot, but ..."

"You have an answer for everything."

"Yes. I am far older and far wiser."

"You're a nerd."

"True."

She considered longer, then shook her head. "Carrie's going to take me on full-time and ..." She paused, shook her head again. "No. I need to get my shit together first, then I'll figure out my life. But thank you for, like, letting me stay."

I shrugged. "Thank you for reminding me how old I am by saying 'like' all the time." I ignored the tongue stuck out at me. "And congratulations on Bothwell." I got up and dumped my dishes in the sink. "Think about what I said. Minimum wage."

"My life's good the way it is."

I let it go for the moment.

"She's back." Carrie's somber tone was a clue as to whom she meant. I was dropping Madison off and Carrie had pulled me aside.

"Anne?"

She nodded. "Apparently, all that glitters is not gold, including the streets of New York."

"What have you heard?"

"It's all third-hand, so take it for what it's worth. Friends of friends of friends say that he turned out not to be a prince. He got what he wanted from her, and when he'd had his fill, he looked around elsewhere. When she raised a ruckus, he went elsewhere."

For a second, Carrie's eyes turned inward. For the umpteenth time, I wondered about her story, the two years away while her cousin managed the stable, the daughter, the varying and seemingly casual dates with bachelors in the area. But I knew I'd never know. Carrie was fiercely private. Her eyes came back into focus.

"Then she found out that rent prices there are nothing like here. Nor are food prices, paying for your own insurance, or any other real-world things. And when your job resumé is thirteen years in small-town retail, high-paying jobs in New York aren't abundant. So, home seemed a good idea even if it meant Mom and Dad."

"Talk is going to flare up," I sighed. Her eyes were sympathetic.

"Probably. But you know something, Will? The people who are your friends, who can see what's plain as the nose on your face, they all couldn't be prouder of you."

"I've become a grouchy old man."

"That's true. You need to work on that. But you've also carried yourself with dignity. I'm glad you're my friend."

Coming from one of the people I respected most on the planet, it eased my reaction to the ominous news. We saw Avery turn out of a stall far down the row. Her eyes went to us, then shifted away.

"She's not her uncle," Carrie observed. "Jim Harvey always said, 'Listen, think, ask, then open your yap.'"

I nodded. I'd heard him say it. It'd struck me as a Yogi Berra-ism at first, but it made more sense as I got older.

The doorbell rang, and when I looked through the sidelight, the devil incarnate stood there.

"If you're looking for Cheaters Anonymous, I think it meets at the Ramada on Thursdays." My snide greeting disconcerted her, and she didn't respond. "What do you want, Anne?"

"I-I came to see if those boxes of clothes are still in the basement."

"Goodwill. Oh, isn't that funny!" I fake-laughed. "Bad Will gave them to Goodwill. Bye-bye." I started to close the door.

"Will, please!"

I swung the door wide again. "What?"

"Can we talk for two seconds?"

I debated, then let her in the door, but I didn't offer her a beer or a chance to sit down. She stared at her feet for a second, the fingers of her right hand working convulsively. That had always been a sign she was nervous.

"So?"

"I didn't come for the clothes. I was ninety-nine percent certain that nothing of mine was left in this house."

"Six years of marriage. I guess you learned a thing or two about me."

She gave a little nod. "I-I came because I've been hearing what's going around town. At first, I didn't realize what they meant when they commiserated with me, then I did. It shocked me."

"It's pretty much what one would expect when your wife brands you an abusive husband."

"I didn't actually say that," Anne protested.

I gave her a look that made it clear just how much I wasn't buying that. "If you didn't say it, you implied it. And you certainly never denied it."

She didn't say a word. Anne always clammed up when she didn't want to admit she was wrong. I waited her out. If she wanted to talk, fine, but I wasn't going to whitewash over bullshit. She caved.

"I'm so sorry, Will. I wasn't thinking right." If I hadn't known how easily she could turn on the waterworks, I might have believed the tears that threatened to spill. "I was stressed, and my parents were on my case. Mom was yelling at me. Dad had done that ice-cold thing he does. I was afraid they'd never speak to me again. So, when he asked if there was some reason I felt I needed to leave town, I just said I needed to get away from you and let him jump to conclusions." She looked miserable.

"I'm so sorry. It was a horrible thing to do. If it's any defense, I never imagined that anyone in town would believe that of you except my family. I thought everyone would just say it was ridiculous and no way Will Dannreuther would do that."

"People love dirt. And your dad knows a lot of people in this area." I stood. "Time for you to go, Anne. I don't feel like talking to you."

"I'm so sorry."

"Fine. Time to leave."

"I just want to apolo—"

"Time to leave."

She stared, stricken. Then she turned toward the door. She looked back over her shoulder. "The bridges are burnt, Will?"

I looked at her in complete and utter astonishment. That was answer enough. She nodded and opened the door, then hesitated again.

"I lied about having sex with him in our bed. I was trying to hurt you. The only time we did it before I left was once at the Motel 6."

"Only once. Imagine my relief. Okay, I'll add one needlessly destroyed mattress to the list of things you cost me then."

She gave a jerky little nod and left.

I found Madison sitting in the kitchen when I went to get a drink. She had trouble meeting my eyes. She had heard the conversation. Whatever. I headed back to the office to get some work done.

Before I reached the door, she spoke. "Will?"

I stopped and turned back.

"I'm sorry I doubted you. I should have known better after the way you've treated me."

I shrugged. The bitterness was eating me up right at that moment. "You barely know me. I grew up in this town and they all doubted. So, don't beat yourself up about it."

"Maybe. But I know what it's like not to be believed. I guess I'm no better than my mom."

That stopped me. I turned back a second time. "No. I'm just someone you know ... and not even all that well. She was someone whose entire job was to protect you. She didn't even try. You're not the same as she is. At the risk of sounding like an asshole, you had two parents who didn't have a clue about what being a parent meant."

I turned and went to the den and a Married With Children episode, another of my dad's favorites. Fuck working. But nostalgia-based entertainment wasn't enough. I put on some Pearl Jam, switched it for Nirvana, and buried myself in my book. A little while later I heard her call, "I'm going to take Lucy for a walk."

I felt a little guilty; I knew Madison didn't care for grunge. But it's my house, and my even keel of existence had just gotten rocked by a rogue-wave bitch of an ex, so I didn't feel too bad. I lived with Maroon 5 blasting from her bathroom when she showered.

I was surprised the next morning when I went out to get some wood. Doug walked over.

"For a while now," he said by way of greeting, "I haven't known whether to listen to my gut or my ears."

"What?"

"Madison talked to me a bit when she came by for Lucy yesterday."

"Oh."

"You may not know this, but the Whites are second cousins of my late wife." I hadn't. Anne had never mentioned it, but in an area with so many old families who had intermarried, that wasn't surprising. She was probably related somehow to half the people in the area. He nodded. "Yep. So, while my gut was telling me one thing, family grapevine was saying something else. It made me careful. I hope I wasn't too much of an asshole to you. I tried to stay neutral."

"You weren't an asshole at all, Doug. Just distant."

He nodded again. "No hard feelings?"

"You didn't know, and family's family. So no, no hard feelings."

He smiled, probably the first really warm smile he'd directed at me in over a year. "I called Carl and told him the story he'd been fed was a load of horse manure."

"What did he say?"

"He told me to go fuck myself." Now he barked a laugh. "Carl takes a while to change his mind, but he gets there eventually. Anne's in for a tough conversation with her dad in the near future."

"Tell me what really happened," Madison said to me over dinner two days later.

"Huh?"

"With your wife."

"She's not my wife. I have a piece of paper to prove it."

She rolled her eyes. "With your ex, then."

"No. It's none of your business, and it just dredges up stuff I'd like to forget."

"People are telling me all kinds of crap, and I don't know what to say to them."

"Say nothing."

"I know for a fact you didn't abuse her. So, what was the real reason she left?"

I got stubborn and shook my head. She got stubborn. Guess what?

"Anne and I lived in New Jersey after we got married. Her dream was to get an apartment in Manhattan, and I said okay. I didn't truly want to live in the City, but I figured I could hack it for a year or two. Compromise, you know?