A Girl's Guide to Moving On (24 page)

“You get Owen and I'll collect his things,” Rocco suggested.

I nodded, eager to get this over with.

I could hear Owen crying even before I reached the front door. It felt odd to ring the doorbell to the very home in which I'd once lived. This wasn't the first time.

Jake yanked the door open and glared at me. “It took you long enough.”

“We came right away.”

It was as if Jake hadn't seen Rocco, who stood directly next to me. “ ‘We'?” He took one look at Rocco and burst out laughing, as if this was the biggest joke he'd ever heard. “You're kidding me, right? This is the guy you're dating? This…Neanderthal.”

I ignored the comment, and thankfully so did Rocco. “Where's Owen?”

“No, no, I want to meet this Rocco fellow. I don't get it, Nichole. I always thought you were a classy woman. You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel with this one.”

Rocco took one step forward but then stopped. It went without saying that one punch from him would flatten Jake. Maybe that was what my ex wanted, so he could press assault charges against Rocco.

I heard a woman's screech come from down the hallway. “The little shit just threw up on me,” she screamed. Her outrage was followed by a string of swear words.

“Speaking of classy women,” Rocco muttered.

I wasn't waiting while these two played chicken. I scooted around Jake and hurried down the hall to collect Owen, ignoring the woman who stood frozen in the bathroom. The minute my son saw me, he burst into tears. “Mommy, Mommy, I got sick.”

“So I see.” I grabbed a washcloth in the bathroom and wet it down.

The woman seemed to think it was for her and made a huffing sound when I wiped Owen's mouth and hands. I picked him up, grabbed his backpack and coat, and carried him and everything else into the living room.

Rocco and Jake were standing chest to chest, only Jake was about five inches shorter than Rocco, which made for a comical sight. If I'd been in a laughing mood I would have said something.

“Rocco.” Owen stretched his arms out to Rocco, wanting to go to him.

Jake blinked and stepped back. I saw the disappointment in his eyes as Owen leaned forward and Rocco took him from me. Jake watched me slip past him and follow Rocco out to the truck. Owen had his small arms wrapped around Rocco's neck and his head on the big man's shoulders. In every way it seemed Jake's affair had cost him more than just me and our marriage. It looked as if he'd lost his son as well.

I arrived at the hospital at seven in the morning in order to see Sean before he headed into surgery. The attendant at the surgery desk checked the chart, running her finger down the list of names on the schedule, and then asked, “What is your relationship to the patient?”

Fearing I would be denied access if I admitted that I was his ex-wife, I murmured, “Wife.”

She made a check on the sheet and said, “Follow me.”

I was led down a long corridor to the room where Sean was. He was reclined on the bed, in a hospital gown with a number of IVs hooked to his arm. A monitor registered his heart rate and blood pressure every few minutes. His head had been shaved; he looked deathly pale and terribly frightened.

“You came.” He stretched out his free arm and took hold of my hand in a death grip, squeezing my fingers to the point of pain. “I wasn't sure I'd see you before the surgery. Thank you.” He had tears in his eyes, which I'm sure embarrassed him, because he turned his head and looked away.

Standing at his bedside, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Of course I'm here,” I assured him. “I wouldn't want to be anyplace else.”

He expelled a wobbly breath. “I don't mind telling you I've never been more terrified in my life.”

“Anyone would be.” I noticed that his blood pressure was elevated and his pulse rate was above normal. The proud, arrogant man I'd spent the majority of my life married to was reduced to a frightened child needing reassurance. “It's going to be fine, Sean. Take one day at a time and don't worry about anything more than that.”

He nodded. “You're right.”

“I prayed for you this morning,” I told him. “You're in God's hands now.”

Knowing that I'd prayed didn't appear to comfort him.

After a few minutes the surgeon came into the room, dressed in blue hospital garb with a blue cap on his head. A displaced face mask hung around his neck.

“Hello,” he said, looking to me and extending his hand. “I'm Dr. Allgood.”

We exchanged handshakes. “Leanne.”

“This is my wife,” Sean said.

I wanted to correct him, but I'd basically said the same thing to the attendant. It seemed easier that way, although it made me slightly uncomfortable.

The surgeon went over the surgical procedure with us both and explained what was about to happen. He told me the surgery could take as long as four or five hours. It was delicate, to say the least.

I listened and nodded at the appropriate times, but the medical terms and a lot of what he said went over my head. It wasn't important that I understand as much as it was for Sean to know I was there to lend him emotional support.

When it came time for Sean to be wheeled into surgery, I walked alongside the gurney and held his hand. The fear in his eyes ate at me. He held my gaze as long as possible, until he went through the doors to surgery. I waited there in the middle of the hallway until the automatic door closed.

A nurses' aide took me to the surgery waiting area, where a volunteer sat behind a desk. “There's no need for you to stay here, seeing that the procedure will take several hours,” the volunteer told me. “If you'll give me your cell-phone number I can call you if there are any updates. The doctor will want to talk to you following surgery. As long as you're back between ten and noon you'll be able to chat with him.”

I'd assumed I'd just sit in the waiting area, but the volunteer was right. I could be out and about doing something constructive in that amount of time. I left her my cell number and headed toward the parking lot, wondering what I would do. Kacey would love a visit, I knew, but it was still early and I didn't want to appear on her doorstep before eight in the morning.

It came to me that perhaps I should check the house to make sure everything was in order for when Sean returned from the hospital. I no longer had a key, but I knew where the spare was kept.

I hadn't been to the house since the divorce had been finalized and I'd removed my personal items. We'd built this custom home twenty years into our marriage. It'd been our dream home, situated next to the golf course, with a beautiful view of the clubhouse in the distance. When we first moved in, I had taken great care and pride in decorating each room.

Sure enough, the spare key was in the fake rock in the flower beds. Sean had hired a lawn service, and while the yard was maintained, I could see that the flower beds were in bad shape. I'd always been the one to see to the care of the flowers. I found it disheartening to see how neglected they were. Not my problem, though.

I unlocked the door and walked into the home that had once been my pride. I knew Sean had a cleaning service come in once a week. My sense of self-importance had been stung by how easily I had been replaced in his life. A lawn-maintenance company and a cleaning service were all it took. To my shock, the house was an utter mess.

The kitchen counters were littered with mail, newspapers, empty glasses, and cartons of takeout food. I started there, ready to fill the dishwasher, until I realized it was full of clean dishes. I spent nearly an hour in the kitchen before I was satisfied.

The bedroom wasn't much better. Sean had discarded clothes on the floor. He'd always been meticulous when it came to hanging up his clothes. I found the hamper full of dirty laundry and ran a load of whites through the washer and dryer while I stripped the sheets and remade his bed.

The bathroom and living room were also a mess. I found a pair of women's black lace underwear under the sofa cushion and rolled my eyes. Taking a pair of tongs from the kitchen, I removed them. They were the skimpiest pair I'd ever laid eyes on and probably cost a fortune. I suspected whoever owned them was upset that they'd turned up missing.

It took three and a half hours to clean the house. I left in a rush and hurried back to the hospital, afraid I might miss talking to the surgeon. I hadn't gotten a call, so I had to assume everything was on schedule.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. It was a full hour after my return before the surgeon came to talk with me. I stood as he stepped into the room. He drew me into the hallway outside, where we had a bit more privacy.

“Your husband came through the surgery without a problem.”

My shoulders relaxed with relief. “Were you able to get all of the tumor?”

“Not all of it. What I was able to extract is being tested. We should have the results in a couple of days.”

“And if it's cancer…” I could barely get the question out.

“If it's cancer we'll do everything we possibly can. But there's no need to concern yourself with that now.” I noticed that he didn't quite meet my eyes as he spoke. It didn't sound good, but I could be wrong. I hoped I was.

“Your husband is in recovery now. I'll have the nurse come and get you so you can see him before you go.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling uneasy about the white lie.

He patted my shoulder and turned away.

I wasn't in the mood for company, so I didn't call Kacey the way I'd originally planned. Instead I wandered down to the cafeteria for a bowl of soup. I knew Jake would be wondering about his father, so I contacted him.

“How's Dad?” Jake asked as soon as he picked up, his concern obvious.

“He's out of surgery and doing the best that can be expected.”

“Was the tumor cancerous?”

This, of course, was on all our minds. I knew Jake hated not knowing as much as I did. “We have to wait for the test results. The doctor said it would take a couple of days.”

“I feel bad I couldn't be there for Dad. I know he appreciates you going to the hospital.”

“It's fine, honey. I don't hold any ill will toward your father.” I was sure he knew that, but a reminder wouldn't hurt.

Jake went silent, and when he spoke again his voice was full of pain. “Mom…”

“Jake,” I whispered, “you don't need to worry. Your father takes care of himself physically. He's going to be fine.” I tried to sound confident and reassuring.

“I know, I know. This weekend…Listen, Mom, I met Rocco. Is Nichole serious about this guy? Because I have to tell you, he looks like he's part of a motorcycle gang or something.”

My son wanted to use me to find out information about his ex-wife. I was having none of it. As much as possible, I tried to remain neutral when it came to matters between Jake and Nichole. “The person you need to ask is Nichole, not me.”

“But the two of you are close.”

“Yes, we are,” I agreed. Jake had already used me once to influence Nichole, and I wouldn't allow myself to be manipulated again.

“Nichole can't be serious about him, she just can't. That kind of guy is a bad influence on Owen. I don't want my son hanging around a man like that. Is she desperate? Is that it?”

Knowing some of the women my son had brought into the house, gossip Kacey had been far too eager to share, I found it interesting that he was asking me these questions. “Nichole isn't desperate,” I said, doing my best to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Furthermore, I don't believe you have a say in who Nichole sees or doesn't see, Jake.” I tried to be as nonjudgmental as possible. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to bridle my tongue.

“It about killed me to see her with that guy,” Jake admitted, his voice stiff and angry.

The double standards of my ex-husband and son astonished me. I found myself lashing back, despite my best intentions. “Did you think it was any easier for Nichole to learn you were cheating on her? Or to hear about the parade of women you've brought into the home that had once been hers?” I asked.

He sucked in a breath. “That was low, Mom.”

I should have kept my opinion to myself. Jake was angry now; I could hear it in his breathing. His voice was hard when he spoke next. “Let me know what you hear about Dad.”

“I will,” I promised.

Jake ended the call before I had a chance to say anything more. It gave me no pleasure to know my son was suffering because of the end of his marriage. Like his father, he'd brought this on himself, but he didn't seem to recognize or accept his part in the divorce.

By the time I returned, Sean was out of recovery and had been taken down to his room. I sat at his bedside and read a magazine until he woke. He rolled his head and smiled when he saw me.

“I knew you'd be here,” he whispered, his eyes shining with gratitude. “How long was I in surgery?”

I told him. “I didn't wait at the hospital. I went over to the house and got it ready for when you're able to go home.”

Regret flashed in his eyes. “The housekeeper didn't work out. It was a mess, wasn't it?”

I didn't confirm or deny what he already knew. “Would you like me to hire someone for you?”

“Please.” He found it difficult to speak, and I reached for the water cup and put the straw in his mouth. He drank thirstily.

When he finished I withdrew the straw and set the cup back on the side table. “I should leave now. I'm teaching this evening.”

I could see by his look that he wanted me to stay.

“I'll be by tomorrow,” I reassured him. “You might have the test results back by then.”

He shut his eyes and whispered, his voice emotional, “Thank you, Leanne. I don't think I could have made it through this without you.”

I bent forward and kissed his forehead. As I left the hospital, my cell rang. Caller ID told me it was Nikolai.

“Hello,” I said.

“How is Sean?” he asked, concerned and caring. “I pray this morning. I light more candles and ask God to be merciful.”

“Thank you.” My heart swelled with love, knowing he'd prayed for my ex-husband. “Sean came through the surgery fine. He's pretty much out of it just yet, which is what I expected.”

“And cancer? You no have answer?”