Happenstance Ch. 03

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This fictional, novel-length story tells the tale of a man who finds out just how complicated life can be and how chance and coincidence - happenstance, if you like - can turn that life into something that Alice of 'Through The Looking Glass' fame might understand.

While reading this tale of love, deception and betrayal, those who persevere will come to understand that love can hide a multitude of sins. They might also come to understand that perception is not reality. This is particularly true about subjects many consider to be taboo.

I have published all five chapters of this story under the 'Loving Wives' category because that's the general theme. It should be noted, however, that there are references to subjects some readers might consider should be published under other categories. But please don't go getting your tits in a tangle about it. As I hinted at earlier, all is not what it seems.

Please note that the right of Black Jack Steele to be identified as the author of this work - Happenstance - is asserted under worldwide copyright laws. All rights are reserved.

HAPPENSTANCE

Copyright © Black Jack Steele 2022

CHAPTER THREE

Clouds on the Horizon

An old enemy slithers back into the garden.

The need for me to access the money I had put aside in a future fund arose when, near the end of 2014, we decided it was time to start looking for a larger home. Our current house had served us well, but the suburb we were living in was rapidly deteriorating. The worst part was that, as a result of the influx of low-income families into the area, the quality of education the twins were receiving at the local school was also deteriorating. We felt that with them quickly approaching high school age, it would be better for them to spend their last year of primary education in a school that would better prepare them for the next step on their educational ladder than they would receive if they stayed at their current school.

A few months after beginning our search, we found the perfect replacement in an outer northern suburb that had been developed as a semi-rural acreage estate back in the 1980s. The two-story house sat on five acres and had been built to mimic the Queenslander style. The main living area - four bedrooms with a master and second bathroom, kitchen, dining room and large living room - was located in the upper part of the house. Two additional bedrooms, another full bathroom, a large games room, a laundry and a double garage filled the ground floor area.

The games room opened onto a covered deck, which overlooked a nine-metre by three-point-five metre fenced-in swimming pool. The property also had a three-bay, barn-style shed set off to one side of the house, which would give us additional storage space, room to store our boat and give me the space needed for me to set up a workshop. It was ideal.

After having the builder who'd done the renovations on our current home run his eye over the place and give me an estimate on the cost of remedial work - minor repairs and a full internal repaint - and receiving pre-approval for a loan, we submitted an offer that was thirty-thousand dollars below the asking price. That offer was accepted.

While we had enough money in our house savings account to cover the deposit, we needed additional funds to pay for the remediation work. Shelley and I split that cost, with me pulling my share from my business's future fund and her matching my contribution from her savings.

The builder brought his crew in to carry out the needed work as soon as the contracts had been exchanged, and we moved into our new home at the end of April, 2015.

Rather than sell the old house, I decided to rent it out, using the income to cover maintenance costs and to help offset my share of the mortgage on the new house. The couple who leased it turned out to be excellent tenants who looked after the place as if it was their own. So good were they, in fact, that when I visited them after they'd been in the place for two years, I promised I would give them first right of refusal if I ever decided to put it on the market.

---oooBJSooo---

Settling into a new home can be a trying time, but we managed it without experiencing any major disagreements. That was probably because I agreed to leave Shelley to oversee the setting up of the living part of the house while I supervised the setting up of the downstairs and outside areas. We only shared an opinion about the other's area of responsibility when asked. And the only time I had been asked to offer an opinion was when we discussed the internal colour scheme before moving in.

As most of my suggestions had been rejected, I decided to quietly withdraw from the battlefield, surrendering control of such matters to Shelley. Cowardly? Perhaps. But I couldn't see any point in dying in the trenches over something as unimportant as the colour of the walls or where a piece of furniture should be placed. I figured that my energies would be better spent ensuring that my working environment was as comfortable and efficient as I could make it and that the yard was maintained. I was sure there would come a time when I would have to rattle my sabre over something more important.

That 'something more important' came much sooner than I'd expected.

We had only been in our new home a few months when, while catching my breath after a long coital callisthenics session one night, Shelley hit me right between the eyes with those five words every man dreads hearing: "Honey - or in my case, Daddy - we need to talk".

That certainly got my attention. I pulled myself up the bed and, with my back against the bedhead, waited for the second shoe to drop.

Shelley imitated my movements. It was as if she wanted to be in a position where she could avoid looking me in the eye when that second shoe hit the floor.

"There's no easy way to say this, but...."

"But you're leaving me to run off with one of the rodeo clowns when you go up to Mount Isa next month," I interrupted her, trying to make light of the situation.

"No," she responded, her quick wit coming to the fore. "I was waiting to tell you that just before I left. But now you've raised the subject, you need to understand that what he and I have is more than just sex. We're soulmates. His extraordinarily large... um... well, never mind. Anyway, it has nothing to do with my attraction to him.

"It's nothing you've done or haven't done," she continued, quoting lines from some of the stories I'd read to her during her away trips. "I still love you. But I love Clarence in a different way. I just need to spend some 'me' time with him to get him out of my system. I know you love me enough to let me do this. And I know you'll wait for me to return to you, however long that might take."

She couldn't hold back any longer and, rolling over and burying her head into my chest to muffle the sound, began laughing uproariously. That was the night my penis was given a name. From then on, he became known as Clarence.

"No, you fool," she said as she rolled back to her earlier position. "This has nothing to do with Clarence and his large... um... never mind. What I started to say is much more serious than that.

"What I was trying to tell you before you so rudely interrupted me was that Mum's back."

"Mum's back. What? You mean your mum? Charlie?" This was so far out of left field that I was having trouble getting my head around what she was saying.

"Yes. My mum. Yes, Charlie. She arrived back in town about six weeks ago, and I was wondering how you would feel about me inviting her around for a barbecue next Sunday. I thought it might be an ideal opportunity for the two of you to bury the hatchet and for her and Gran to meet the twins."

"Burying the hatchet has a certain appeal," I responded, "I'll tell you what. You invite her around, and I'll sharpen the axe.

"But, no. On second thoughts, perhaps you'd better not. I'd prefer watching my children growing up from outside prison. I don't want that woman - or her own poisonous mother - anywhere near my home or my children. I'll be happy if I never set eyes on either of them again."

"But she's my mother, Matt. Don't I have a right to see her? Don't I have a right - even an obligation - to try to close that gap that's existed between us for so long?

"I know she hurt you terribly, but can't you forgive her and put what she did behind you?"

"Forgiveness is highly overrated," I answered. "The only one who benefits from it is the one who caused the problem in the first place. Why would I want to excuse Charlie for what she did to me - to us - just to make her feel better about herself? What she did was a betrayal - a breach of trust - and for that, I will never forgive her.

"I can't stop you from doing what you feel you have to do in an attempt to rebuild the bridge that once existed between you and your mother and grandmother, but you're going to have to do it without my involvement. I can also understand that you'd want our children to meet their maternal grandmother and great-grandmother, but that, too, you'll have to do on your own.

"Let me tell you this, however. Whatever arrangements you make to meet up with your mother, those meetings are not to take place in our home. I don't want either of those women anywhere near the place. And be warned. The first sign I see that either of them is having a negative influence on our kids will be the last time they go anywhere near those two witches."

"Aren't you forgetting that this is my home, too? Surely I have some say about who I invite into it and who I don't."

"Yes, My Darling," I responded. "It is your home. And as co-owner, you are free to invite whoever you want to into it. But I've let you know how strongly I feel about your mother and grandmother. It's now up to you whether you want to live with me or assert your right to freedom of choice and invite them into our home."

"What do you mean by that?" Shelley asked.

"What I mean, My Love, is that if, knowing my feelings on the subject, you invite either of those two into our home, I will assume you have chosen them over me. If I even get a hint that one of them has been in our house, you'll be free to have them over here as often as you like because I'll be gone."

You can't possibly mean that," Shelley said, shocked at my determination.

"I mean every word of it," I answered. "Betrayal isn't something I take lightly. In fact, my response to your question about forgiveness should tell you that I take it very seriously. And betrayal is the only word I could use to describe your actions should you take your mother's side on this.

"You need to think about where your loyalties lie. I won't forgive her for what she did, and I won't forgive you if you should ever betray me."

"That's totally unreasonable," she said as she lowered herself into the bed and rolled away from me. I might be as dumb as dogshit when it comes to women, but after thirteen years of marriage, I knew that when one's wife turns her back on you, the conversation has ended.

Our relationship was a bit icy for the next couple of days but thawed on Friday night. We'd gone out for dinner with Ian and Marjorie and Roy and Adele as we did at least once each month, and Shelley had a slight buzz after having shared a couple of bottles of wine with her former colleagues.

It was obvious when she appeared wearing a sensual black babydoll outfit after having spent longer than usual in the bathroom that she was ready for a bit of loving.

"I'm sorry for behaving so childishly the other night," she said as she climbed into bed and laid her head on my chest. "I was just so excited about Mum's return that I didn't think about how much she'd hurt you. I'd also never realised how unyielding you could be when it came to matters of principle.

"You were right, though. She did betray you - us - and I can understand why you can't find it in your heart to forgive her. But while I respect your position, and I promise not to bring either her or Gran to our home without your agreement, you need to understand that she is still my mother. And while I can never condone what she did, I need to try to reconnect with her; and with Gran, for that matter. After all, they're the only family I have; apart from you and the kids, of course. I hope you can see that."

"Of course I see that, Baby Girl," I said. "I've not said anything about not wanting you to include her in your life. Nor have I said anything about not having them in the children's lives. I acknowledge that they need to have a connection to your side of the family. I just don't want either your mother or grandmother in my life.

"But I meant what I said about your mother and grandmother having an adverse influence on the twins. If I see a single sign that the children's behaviour is being affected by them being in your family's company, I will veto any further contact. We've raised our children to be well-mannered and respectful members of society. I don't want all our hard work to be destroyed by those two disrespectful, conniving, treacherous bitches.

"You might like to also tell them that any attempt to buy the kids off with toys, gifts and treats will have the same result. I don't want us to be seen as the bad guys by saying no to their every whim when they know their grandmother and great-grandmother will give them whatever they ask for, whether they need it or not."

The spoiling of the kids worried me the most, particularly after Shelley shared the reason for her mother's return with me.

It seemed that after they'd left Perth, they'd been relocated to Adelaide in South Australia, where, with new identities, they'd continued to follow their chosen careers; Jim in sales and Charlie in real estate. They'd both been successful in their fields and had been living well, right up until Jim had been killed when he was T-boned by a semi driven by a drug-affected trucker while doing his sales calls earlier that year.

With her two younger children - Tom and Gerrie - attending university in Adelaide, Charlie decided to move back to the east coast. Money wasn't a problem - she had done well in her real estate career and had substantial funds available to her in her own right - but she moved in with her mother while awaiting the settlement of her husband's estate. She also expected to receive a large payout from the truck driver's employer, but that claim could take years to settle.

According to Shelley, she planned to start looking for a new home for herself and her mother once she'd had time to get a feel for the local housing market. I just hoped it wouldn't be too close to our home. But that was wishful thinking on my part. The gods don't play by the same set of rules we mere mortals use.

Despite her earlier intentions, our lovemaking that night was subdued. Talking about her mother had put a dampener on our mood. Having cleared the air, however, our lives returned to normal... well, almost normal. Charlie's move back to Brisbane after an absence of twenty-three years caused an almost imperceptible shift in the Earth's axis, the first effects of which would not take long to become evident.

---oooBJSooo---

Of course, it was a given that - as much as I would like it to be so - I wouldn't be able to avoid crossing paths with Charlie forever. But I'd hoped I could put it off for longer than was the case. The trouble was that I had neglected to take happenstance into account.

That first encounter occurred at Shelley's network's 2015 Christmas function, just seven months after her mother had arrived back in town. As was often the case at such functions, Shelley and I had been seated at a table-for-eight reserved for her and her crew. In addition to her and me, there would be her cameraman and his wife, her researcher and her husband, and her producer and whoever he brought with him on that occasion. The first two couples mentioned were already seated when we arrived. The big surprise came a few minutes after we'd been seated when her producer arrived with Charlie on his arm.

I had met Dan Smith, a good-looking man of about my own age, at the previous year's function - not long after he'd been appointed to replace her previous producer - but I had no idea how he would have come to know Charlie; particularly as she had been living on the other side of the continent for the past two decades or so and had only arrived back in town a few months earlier. I looked over at Shelley as they approached our table, raising my eyebrows in enquiry as I did so. She had paled when she'd seen her mother arriving on the arm of her producer and gave a shoulder shrug, responding to my silent question with her own silent answer.

Her reaction to seeing her mother - the paled complexion and the shrug - got my senses tingling. I knew a story when I saw one, and there was certainly a story behind Charlie's appearance at the function and Shelley's shock at seeing her there.

"Good evening, everyone," Dan said as he pulled Charlie's chair out for her. "I'd like to introduce my date for the night, Charlene Rogers. He then went around the table, introducing the others to her.

"You've already met Harry," he said, acknowledging the team's cameraman sitting beside her. Harry was in his mid-thirties and carrying a bit of a paunch, but his baby-faces looks, I knew, would appeal to some women. He was a new addition to their team, having been pulled in to replace her previous cameraman. I'd been holding Shelley's hand during the introductions and felt her tense up at Dan's off-the-cuff comment about Charlie and Harry knowing each other.

"The lovely lady sitting next to Harry is his wife, Janine," he continued. "The young lady on my left is our researcher, Melody Jones, and next to her is her husband, Reg." As Harry and Janine had done, they shook Charlie's hand as they were introduced.

"Shelley Horseman, you know," he continued. "And the gentleman beside her is her regular partner at these events, Matt King.

"Matthew," Charlie said, looking at me with a smirk on her face after nodding to Shelley. "How lovely to meet you."

"Ms Rogers," I responded, thanking God that she and Dan were seated on the opposite side of the large table from us. It meant I didn't have to try shaking hands with her, which was preferable to making a scene by refusing to do so.

I had to admit that she was holding her age well. Despite the lines around her eyes, she could be taken to be closer to Shelley's thirty-five years than to Dan's. She had also maintained her figure, which I was sure had enhanced her appeal in the eyes of her escort. Looking at her, I could tell how Shelley would look when she was fifty-two. Of course, with me being fifteen years older than Shelley, there was always the possibility that I wouldn't be around to see it.

Even though the night was still young, I had already been given three pieces of a jigsaw I hadn't known existed before entering the function room. The first was that during the relatively short time Charlie had been back on the east coast, she had commenced a relationship with Dan Smith; a man with whom her daughter had a close working association.

The second was that Charlie also knew Harry Marks; another man with whom Shelley had a close working relationship.

The third piece of the jigsaw puzzle I'd been given was that, except for Shelley and Charlie, none of those present appeared to know that Shelley was my wife.

The first two could be explained, I thought, by Shelley having invited her mother to visit her workplace and introducing her to her team members during a tour of the studios. Dan and Charlie could have hit it off and started seeing each other afterwards. That their's had developed into an intimate relationship was not in doubt. It was obvious by the way they interacted with each other.