Carole Page - Decidedly Married

When she realized it was Michael, her heart started pounding in a way it hadn’t since they were dating. Her reaction startled her. It was as if their relationship had already undergone a profound change since their parting this morning, all because of a note she had found from someone named Beth.

“Listen, Jewel, I’m glad you’re home already. I’m going to be tied up tonight, so don’t hold dinner, okay?”

Michael sounded distracted, harried, almost the detached, self-conscious tone people reserved for answering machines. “I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

“What is it?” she asked thickly. “A client?”

“Yeah,” he said without missing a beat. “We’re closing a deal and you know the mountains of paperwork involved. It’s a headache, but what can I say?”

“’We’?” Julie repeated. “You said ‘we’re closing a deal’?” Usually Michael would just say, I’m closing a deal.

“You know how it goes, Julie,” Michael replied. “Another Realtor brought in a client for a house our office listed. We do this all the time and share the commission, you know that”

“Yes, of course,” Julie conceded, feeling a trifle foolish. “Do you want me to keep something warm on the stove for you?” The rest of a can of soup? she thought bitterly.

“No, that’s not necessary, hon. I’ll grab a bite somewhere.” His tone softened into the gentle, tender baritone that had made her heart do flipflops all those years ago. “How’s Katie?”

“She went with a friend to youth group.” No sense in telling him yet about the long-haired boy with the ring in his ear.

“By the way, sweetheart, you sound awful. Looks like that cold you were fighting got a real foothold.”

“Yeah, it did. I stayed home from work today and played couch potato.”

“Good You can’t be too careful with all the weird viruses going around these days. Better doctor yourself with that smelly stuff and get to bed early. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Just take care of yourself, and I promise I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”

“You think you’ll be that late?” Julie asked, feeling suddenly close to tears. She was always a sucker for Michael’s sweet talk. He could charm fuzz off a fly. Why did he have to use those concerned, heart-melting tones when she was all set to be infuriated with him?

“Are you okay, Jewel?” he asked. “You sound…funny—and I’m not talking about the cold now. Is something wrong?”

“What could be wrong?” she murmured without conviction. “I guess it’s just—misery loves company, you know?”

“Look, I’ll try to make a short evening of it, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Michael?” she ventured. “I was just wondering—who’s the other Realtor you’re working with?—on this deal, I mean.”

“Nobody you’d know, sweetheart.”

“Humor me, Michael. I’m curious. Which office is he from?”

“ She’s with Consolidated Realtors in Huntington Beach. They’re in the book. Now I’ve really got to go, hon.”

“What’s her name, Michael?”

“Who?”

“The Realtor. In case I need to reach you.”

“Are you feeling that bad, Jewel?”

“No, it’s just—I assume you’re meeting at her office, so I’d like to know who she is.”

“Yeah, sure. Fine.” Michael sounded annoyed. “Her name is Beth. Beth Chamberlin.”

Julie felt as if someone had walloped her in the pit of her stomach. For an instant she couldn’t catch her breath. She held the receiver away from her ear, but she could still hear Michael saying, “Did you hear me, Jewel? Julie, are you there?”

“Yes, Michael,” she murmured, her voice catching. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling worse. I’ve got to go.”

“Listen, take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he said again, as if she were the only woman on his mind or in his heart. “I’ll see you soon. Sleep tight.”

Without another word she dropped the receiver back into its cradle, stumbled into the living room and curled up on the sofa. She felt stunned, baffled, wounded, betrayed. Beth was more than a name in a note. She was real, a real person, someone who was meeting with Michael this very evening. “Michael, sorry about last night. How about tonight? My place. Love, Beth.” That wasn’t the note of a colleague planning the closure of a deal; it was a woman planning an intimate tryst with a man she loved.

“What kind of a fool do you think I am, Michael?” Julie rubbed her temples. Her dull headache was quickly turning into throbbing, viselike pain. No matter how she played it, the two scenarios didn’t jibe—Michael’s business deal, Beth’s intimate note. “Am I reading too much into this?” she asked aloud. “Or, God forbid, is Michael having an affair with some bimbo named Beth?”

The thought of Michael cheating on her left her feeling incredibly helpless and vulnerable, like someone sitting in the path of an oncoming truck. She wanted desperately to get out of the way before the careering vehicle struck, but she was powerless; her life was about to be shattered, and she couldn’t fathom a way to avoid the impact.

Julie stood and paced the floor for several minutes, her mind replaying Michael’s words over and over. Was there a clue she’d missed? No, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing she could get a grip on. Except Beth’s note. But try as she might, she was only going in circles, retracing the same confusing details until nothing made sense.

She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She considered going straight up to bed, as Michael had suggested. It was tempting to let slumber obliterate her pain, her questions, her confusion. Why not? She would go upstairs, swathe her throat with that greasy, pungent stuff Michael hated and tie one of his large handkerchiefs around her neck, the way her mother had always done with her father’s handkerchiefs when she was a child.

Michael always teased her about her mother’s homemade remedies, but he wasn’t above trying them himself when he felt bad enough. And right now, more than anything in the world, Julie needed a touch of her mother’s tender, loving care, even if it was only in the form of an old handkerchief smelling of camphor and menthol.

But hold on; wait a minute! What was she thinking? She didn’t want Michael coming home from a date with some gorgeous blonde—for surely she would be gorgeous and surely she would be blonde—and finding his wife sleeping in her scuzzy flannels with a smelly hanky tied around her neck. No matter how lousy she felt, she would go upstairs, take a bubble bath, wash her hair, douse herself with Michael’s favorite perfume and maybe even put on a touch of makeup. She would slip into her most provocative negligee, and, by George, she would be awake when Michael arrived home, no matter how late it was’

Minutes later, as she lay in her oval tub up to her neck in warm water brimming with sweet-smelling, opalescent bubbles, she allowed her body to unwind while her mind traced the rocky, bittersweet history of her marriage.

She had lived for seventeen years with the knowledge that Michael had married her because she was pregnant with his child. Some women chose to abort their unwanted babies, but not Julie. She’d never considered it for a minute; all right, maybe half a minute. But she knew instinctively that this baby—Michael’s baby—was a treasure God had given her, and she would do whatever it took to nurture and protect it.

“I always wanted kids someday,” Michael conceded when she told him about the baby. “Maybe not this way and not this soon, but, hey, we’ll make the best of it. If it’s my kid, I want to give him a good home—with two parents who love him.” He managed a resigned smile. “So what do you say, Julie? We could drive to Las Vegas this weekend, tie the knot and be back in time for classes on Monday morning.”