Linda's Legacy

NOTE: This is a standalone story which can be read and enjoyed without prerequisite. It is also a derivative work of "February Sucks!" by GeorgeAnderson, who is the author and sole owner of his work and the characters he created. This takes place 29 years after the events of that story, and 9 years after the end of my own alternate; "February Sucks: Same Old Me."

https://literotica.com/s/february-sucks

https://literotica.com/s/february-sucks-same-old-me-4of4

***

Why am I driving to my mother's house at eleven o'clock at night in the pouring rain?

Why are my husband and children safe and dry at home, probably already asleep in their beds?

Why did Bradley threaten to divorce me? I haven't even done anything!

What the hell is going on?

Why won't anybody talk to me?

***

My name is Emma Smyth. Except, of course, professionally. I practice under my maiden name, Johnson. My husband, Bradley, never objected to that. He understood how important it was to me that I earned my degrees and certifications in clinical psychology under my own name, before we got married. He was always supportive, and that's why we didn't have the ceremony until I was twenty-six.

That day, just over nine years ago, was probably the happiest day of my life. We had the perfect wedding, not too big, not too small, and all of our families were there. My father, Jim, is one hell of a dancer. He'd been taking lessons for something like fifteen years. That's how he met his wife, Grace. Technically she's my stepmom, but I was already seventeen when they first met, so she didn't have a hand in raising me. My mother, Linda, was also there, with her fourth husband, Glen. Having them all together at the wedding was a major feat of diplomacy, but it went smoothly. I even saw mom sitting at a table with dad and Grace while I was dancing with Bradley, after the father-daughter dance.

We wanted to start our family right away, since we'd waited to get married. Braelyn is eight, and Cayden is six. A girl and a boy, two years apart, just like me and my younger brother Tommy. I know it's silly, but it makes me feel like I accomplished everything correctly. They're at home now... and I'm not.

I should go back. Fuck this. I don't know why I should have to do this. I belong in my house, with my family, and Bradley needs to just get over his hurt feelings and accept what's going to happen. I NEED to go back home. I NEED to make things right with him.

But I can't. I'm not welcome.

I should explain.

***

I arrived home early, as I'd planned. I had the groceries I needed for Bradley's favorite dinner- my mom's meatloaf recipe, believe it or not, and a nice bottle of red wine. Idaho potatoes, sour cream, chives, Wisconsin cheddar cheese, and brussels sprouts. I know, lots of people don't like them, but I roast them with olive oil and a little salt and pepper, and they're just perfect. Key lime pie for desert. Oh, and a few delicate little things I'd picked up at Victoria's Secret that Tuesday, so we'd spend the weekend making things special before I left for my conference... the one he didn't know about, yet. The one I was planning on telling him about after dinner.

It took me almost an hour to get everything ready. While the meatloaf was in the oven, I cleaned off the table and vacuumed the dining room, put out the good place settings, and had time to shower, do my hair and makeup, and slip into my new blue dress. The color really brings out my eyes. I dressed it up with a necklace Bradley had given me for our fifth anniversary. The kids liked my meatloaf okay, but I had to make mac-and-cheese for them, since they wouldn't eat the potatoes or the sprouts.

The moment he arrived home having picked up the kids, it was showtime.

Braelyn and Cayden ran around like the little tornadoes of chaos that they are, and we were barely able to get their shoes changed and their things put away before dinner. I plated their food and had them sat down and was decanting the wine when Bradley joined us, with one eyebrow questioningly raised.

I just smiled at him. I beamed the most sunshine-filled smile full of love and adoration I could muster at him.

It only made him look more worried.

Everyone was delighted and happy, they all praised my cooking, the kids ate like tasmanian devils, and even enjoyed a small piece of key lime pie each. Cayden didn't like his, he said it tasted sour. Braelyn finished it for him. After we plopped the kids in front of a movie... their favorite movie, which they'd watched a thousand times already, Bradley nudged me back into the dining room. He'd already cleared the table and filled the dishwasher. He had the last of the red wine in a glass in front of me, and he poured himself a finger of Glenmorangie, neat. He'd picked up the habit from my father years ago.

"So." He took his seat. "Are you going to tell me what this was all about?"

"Aren't I allowed to surprise my husband with a lovely dinner?"

"Oh yes. You absolutely are. I've enjoyed every moment of this evening. The meal was perfect. You are beautiful. Stunning, even. You've clearly gone all out. But it's not my birthday, or yours. It's not our anniversary, our dating anniversary, Valentine's day, Sweetest day, or anything like that. As far as I can tell, it's just a Friday night. What is the occasion?"

"Okay, you got me," I said, blinking coquettishly. "I may need a little favor from you next week."

"I see. What sort of a favor?"

"Well... I'm going to a conference. In Chicago. It's four days, Tuesday through Friday. I'll fly out Monday evening, and I'll be back Saturday afternoon. So I'm afraid you're going to play at being a single dad for a little while." His face darkened. I'd have to step it up. "In the meantime, tiger, I'm going to spend the whole weekend rocking your world. And when I get back, lover," I leaned forward, giving him a healthy peek down my dress, "I'm going to rock it... twice... as... hard." I'd drawn my words out across my lips as slowly and sensuously as I could.

"Uh... Huh." He nodded skeptically. "And why am I only hearing about this now?"

"It just came up."

"It's a conference. Those things are organized a year or more in advance."

"Well, I was only just invited."

"Ah-huh. I couldn't help but hear you say 'I'm going.' Not 'I'm thinking of going,' or 'would it be all right if I go,' or 'I told them I'd have to check with my husband,' or anything like that. You're going, period. No matter what I have to say. And I'm the last one to know about it."

"It's not like that, honey. It's not like that at all."

"Oh? What IS it like?"

"You don't need to feel hurt, okay? It's just this once. I'll make it up to you. Whatever it takes."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

He stood up before I could stop him. He waved his hands down at me, indicating I should stay seated. "Shit," he said. "Shit, shit, shit. Fuck." His wide-open eyes squeezed themselves shut and I could tell his mind was going a mile a minute.

"Honey..."

"SHHHH. Not one more word. Not One More God Damn Word." He was shaking.

"Baby..."

"NO." He nearly shouted it. Damnit, I did not want the kids hearing us fight. I guess he didn't either, because he quickly dialed it down. "No. No. No. No. Do not speak. Okay. Okay. Here's what's going to happen right now. You're going to put the kids to bed when the movie is done. I'm going to... do what I gotta do. I need a few minutes to get my head together. This Conversation Is Not Over. Okay?"

"Bradley..."

"Not. Over." His knuckles were white, gripping the top of the dining room chair. He shook his head, turned on his heel, and went upstairs.

Well, shit. That didn't go as planned.

***

He spent the next twenty minutes stomping around the house like a caged tiger, looking at his phone. He'd furiously read something, swear under his breath, stomp around some more, and then do it again. He made a call at one point and left a voicemail. I only heard him say:

"It's Bradley. She's pulling a Linda. Right now. It's happening now. Please call me the instant you get this."

What the hell? 'Pulling a Linda'? What did my mom have to do with it?

It wasn't much later that his phone rang and he stepped outside the house to take the call, glaring at me. He clearly didn't want me, or the kids, to hear any of it. He came back inside after the call, his phone rang again, and he stepped back outside. The kids seemed confused, but not bothered by his behavior. As the movie was wrapping up, he went into the kitchen and I heard his coffee grinder going. Braelyn and Cayden gave me surprisingly little of their usual resistance to their bedtime routine, brushing their teeth and getting into jammies without a fuss, somehow knowing that something was up.

I myself was trembling like a spooked kitten the whole time. What was he so upset about? What did he know? Who was he talking to? Why was he talking about mom?

With the children bedded down, I came downstairs to find Bradley back at the table with a full carafe of coffee, two mugs, and a large Yeti cup.

"Sit," he said. I did. He poured the coffee.

"I don't want any coffee, Bradley. It'll keep me up all night."

"That's the idea. You're going to need it."

"No. Tell me what's going on in your head."

"I will if you will, dear wife."

"Nothing's going on. I swear. You're getting all upset over nothing. It's just a conference."

"Just one conference. Just one Event. Just Once. Because this is something you need to do, for your sake. Is that right?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Shit." He took a swig of his thick black brew. "It's worse than I thought."

"What's worse than you thought? The coffee?"

He looked at me as if I'd blasphemed. His coffee was perfect, of course. That was His Thing. He had thousands of dollars' worth of gleaming steel coffee equipment in the kitchen and I didn't know how to use half of it. I wasn't even allowed to touch the espresso machine.

"No. The coffee is fine. Look. Before we begin, do you think that I'm stupid?"

"No, of course not."

"Are you sure? You're the one with the graduate degree. You're the psychologist. Don't you think you're a lot smarter than me?"

"Bradley... no."

"Do you have any respect for me at all?"

"Of course!"

"Let's be clear. Do you respect me as a husband? As a partner? As a man? As a human being? Any of that?"

"All of that! And more. So much more. Bradley. You're my husband. You're a great man. You're my partner, you're my lover, you're my best friend. You're the most important thing in my life and I'm so, so, unbelievably lucky to have you!"

"Okay. I'm going to ask you to remember that."

Oh dear. This was not going at all the way I'd hoped. It probably showed.

"All right. We're starting now, Emma. I'm going to ask you some questions, and I'm going to demand honesty from you. Not half truths. Not shades of gray. Not just what you think I could handle, or in the words designed to make it easier or more palatable for me. I deserve at least that much from you. Agreed?"

"Honey, I don't see..."

"Agreed?"

"You don't need to be..."

"This is going to be a very short goddamned conversation if you keep that up, Emma."

"I... okay. Agreed."

"Good. Before you answer anything, please understand that I know more than you think I do about what's going on. I don't know everything, but it's enough to matter. Also, please understand that you know LESS than you think. As you said, I am not a stupid person, and you do respect me. So, if you lie, or prevaricate, or try to make this go the way you want, it's not going to go well."

"I would never lie to you, honey."

"You would, however, lie to yourself."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Okay. So it begins. When were you invited to this conference? How long have you known, before you told me tonight?"

"It only just happened."

"Before today?"

"I just... yes. Before today."

"Before Tuesday?"

Tuesday? Why'd he say Tuesday? "Er. Uh. Yes."

"So. More than enough time to make your plans for this lovely evening. You decided this was the best way to soften me up for it."

"Honey, it's not... It's not like that."

His silence was more of a condemnation than anything he might have said.

"Let's try this again. Who invited you?"

"A colleague."

"Oh, bravo. I see this is going to take a while. Who's paying for you to attend?"

"I'll reimburse them."

"That's not an answer. One more time. Who arranged the fee, the airfare, and the hotel? I've already been through our account statements for the last three months. Either you planned it a long time ago, or you have secret accounts you're using to hide stuff from me, or... some 'colleague' of yours is spending a Huge wad of money on you being there."

"Bradley... I can see you're upset. I can even understand why. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. I promise."

"Is Richard Taylor going to be at the conference?"

"What???" I felt the color drain out of my face. "He knows, Emma, you idiot, he knows," said a voice deep inside my head. "Shut up!" I told it right back. "He doesn't know anything, not for certain. And if he doesn't know, it won't hurt him. It doesn't count. It won't mean anything."

"Simple question. Is. Richard. Taylor. Going. To. Be. There?"

"I don't know. I suppose he might be there, yes."

"Well, I would hope so. He's presenting a paper on Wednesday." Bradley tapped his phone and spun it around on the table so I could read it. He'd found the conference's agenda online. SHIT.

"Oh."

"You didn't know? This is a complete surprise? What with you and Richard being such good friends and close colleagues, one would think he'd have told you about it. This is a pretty important and prestigious conference, after all. It's a tremendous honor. A real feather in his cap, professionally speaking. Surely it must have come up."

"I... okay. Yes, I knew about it. I guess it must have just slipped my mind."

"Emma. Stop it."

"Stop what?"

He just glared at me for a moment.

"Stop Confabulating."

I had to force myself to remember that no, my husband is not stupid. He was correct to remind me of that at the start of this confrontation.

But I didn't have anything else to say.

"Let's review," said Bradley. "Some time ago, weeks, or maybe months, your handsome older colleague, a real ladies' man who's been trying to scheme his way into your panties since the moment you met, invited you on an all-expense-paid five-night romantic vacation getaway to the Big City. You immediately said yes, but decided to spring it on your stupid cuckold of a husband at the last possible moment, distracting me with sex, food, and romance, with the promise of more to come, and shackling me with the children so that I couldn't stop you."

"It's not like that at all!"

"The hell it isn't. I asked you not to lie to me, OR to yourself, remember?"

"I'm not lying."

"How long have you been fucking him?"

"I'm not fucking him."

"Okay, how long has HE been fucking YOU?"

"He hasn't!"

"How long have you been fucking anyone other than me?"

"I'm not!"

"What's the State Capitol of California?"

"What?"

"Just checking to make sure you're still on this planet."

"I am." My head was whirling like a cyclone. How much does he know? He can't know any of this! I haven't fucked Richard yet. He must know that much. He's got to believe me. He's my husband. He's got to have faith in me and believe what I tell him.

"Capitol of California?" He was resolute.

"Uh. Sausalito."

"Sacramento."

"Shit, that's right."

"You're smarter than this, Emma. You're a LOT smarter than this. Your affair fog is making you dumb."

"I'm not having an affair."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it's just that you're not fucking him YET."

Shit!

"Aha. There it is."

"There what is?"

"That look. The one on your face. The one that indicates extreme guilt."

"Look. Bradley. You've got it all wrong. Okay? Yes, Richard invited me to the conference. He asked me to be his guest six weeks ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't want you to take it the wrong way. He is paying for everything, but I'll have my own room! We're staying in separate rooms! I'll pay him back, if it's that important to you! And it really is an important conference! It would benefit my career to be there! It would benefit both of US, you and me! And nothing is going to happen! You can trust me! Bradley! I'm your wife! I love you! I love you and only you! I would never betray you like that!"

Bradley reached for his mug and slowly took a sip. He only ever took it black, just like he only drank his whiskey neat. He said he didn't want anything getting in the way of the really high-quality stuff.

"You already have."

"I have not!"

"By going behind my back and planning all this, yes, you have already betrayed me. By conspiring, keeping secrets, lying, and obscuring the truth about what's going on, by playing me for a fool, for abusing my trust, yes. It's betrayal. To what degree, well, that's yet to be determined, but you have Definitely crossed that line."

I took a deep breath. I could still win this. I hadn't done anything wrong. Yet. Shut up, voice.

"Bradley. I swear to you, on whatever you like. On my life, on the lives of our children. I was not planning on having sex with Richard Taylor."

"You weren't planning NOT to. You have no defenses in place. You've done your best to hide everything from me. You set yourself up for it and figured you'd see how it goes. Maybe 'planning' to have sex with him isn't the right word. Maybe you're just 'expecting' to."

He's not wrong.

"There it is again. More guilt."

"Bradley... I... I have no more words."

"Who was all that lingerie for?"

"For you!" Shit. Tuesday. He saw the charges. "It was for you! For this weekend, and for when I get back!" Mostly.

"Riiiight. And you weren't going to pack any of it for your trip? There was absolutely zero chance that Richard would see a special little something? There was nothing, nothing AT ALL from your shopping spree that might-or-might-not have been just for him?"

"NO!" Yes.

"Emma. I have no reason to believe you, and plenty of reason not to."

"I don't know how to say it, Bradley. You have to believe me. You have nothing to worry about." Actually yes, he has PLENTY to worry about.

"I think I do. And the fact that I even think so means YOU have something to worry about, too." He set down his mug. "Here is what's going to happen. As of today, as of right this minute, I'm kicking you out of the house. You don't live here anymore, and you're not welcome here. I'll give you time to pack a bag, and you can collect the rest of your stuff later. You're going to drive to your mother's, where you are going to have a long conversation with her about how a married woman should or should not behave if she wishes to remain married. You'll be spending the night with Tom and Berniss. I've already called them, they're expecting you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You can't do that."

"Ridiculous, eh? Know what's ridiculous? Running off on a honeymoon with some other guy and expecting your dumb husband to just sit back and take it. THAT is ridiculous. Fortunately for me, this family has experience with this kind of thing. I was SPECIFICALLY warned about it. So. You Are Going To See Your Mother, TONIGHT, and you are going to learn from that experience. If you fail to do so, this marriage is already over."

"You can't possibly be serious!"

"As a heart attack."

"You can't make me. You're my husband, not my owner."

"Aha. Well, you're right about that. I don't own you. I don't control you. I figure you're going to do whatever you damn well please, regardless of what I have to say. But that door opens in both directions. If I don't like what you're doing, you can't stop me from divorcing your ass, either."