Butterfly Lane (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

J
ohn gripped the counter in the bathroom, staring himself down in the mirror. Zanny was waiting for him in the living room, waiting for him to open up about what was bothering him. The trouble was that he had no idea where to begin.

He’d been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. The way he’d spoken to Zanny, and about Zanny to his father and Ben, kept coming back to haunt him. His mother still hadn’t spoken to him, other than a few cold words here and there. He could only imagine what she would have said if she were talking to him.

John knew Zanny worked hard. He knew that keeping the house orderly while still managing to make it a home for a lout like himself and two small, active boys wasn’t easy. But that was part of the problem. Things were too perfect. How was he supposed to tell his wife, the sweet woman who worked so hard to make the ideal home life for him and his sons, that he felt as if he couldn’t live up to her standards?

And then there was the other issue—the problem that had been growing ever since shortly after Noah was born.

For the first few months of their marriage, intimacy between John and Zanny had been more than he’d ever dreamed it could be. They were fun, spontaneous, hot, desperate, and everything in between. But after Noah was born and Zanny had healed, things had been different. The first time they’d tried to make love, John had gotten overzealous. He’d hurt her. Not badly—he hadn’t raped her, but his vigorous enthusiasm had caused her discomfort.

The thing was, Zanny hadn’t stopped him. And John, too caught up in the sensations of being inside her for the first time in about three months, didn’t notice until she started crying. He’d stopped immediately, but the damage was done to his psyche. A couple of weeks passed before he was even willing to try again he was so worried, despite her assurances that she was okay. And he’d needed a while—at least a month or two—to relax enough to have anything approaching normal sex.

They’d fallen into a gentler routine, which he still enjoyed, but the fire that had been there before was tamped down. After a while, John put his stronger urges aside and just accepted that their intimate life was what it was. He’d pretended for the last four years that he was satisfied with the way things were, and he’d done quite well, he had thought.

It hadn’t started to bother him until the last two or three months. The need for more was getting to be more than he could control.

How the hell was he supposed to tell his wife—his pregnant wife, no less—that he’d been consumed in recent months with the need to screw her senseless? Especially considering that the last time he had made love to her like that, he’d hurt her?

That wasn’t something he could talk to anyone about. And the pressure was really starting to get to him in a pervasive way.

He knew Zanny was sitting in the living room, waiting for him to come back in and spill his guts. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. He knew she would take it personally, as though
she
had failed, and after the way he’d hurt her the week before, he couldn’t bear to do it again.

He had to give her something, though. He thought he knew where to start. Pushing away from the counter, he headed back into the living room. She’d turned on the lamp and closed the curtains against the darkness beyond the windows.

“Hey. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

He didn’t sit down, but walked over to stand in front of the fireplace. It had been an ugly red-brown brick when they’d bought the house, but Zanny had painted it and the whole living room a soft, creamy white. She’d done an excellent job of transforming the old house into a cozy and welcoming home. He realized he’d never told her that and opened his mouth to say how much he appreciated her efforts, but then he figured it probably wasn’t the time.

“So there was a bit of a mess at the office, thanks to Tracy’s little game.” Hands in his pockets, he turned to watch Zanny carefully. “Dave’s probably going to let her go because of it.”

She pushed her hair back behind her ears. “I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me, either. It’s sad, because she’s a good CPA. But what she did?” He still couldn’t quite fathom it. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you and done something.”

She took that in for a minute. “Thank you for that. What if he doesn’t fire her? What then?”

“Well, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Remember Hershel Bowling?”

“Sure. The guy who owns the coal mine and all that commercial property, right?”

“That’s him. He called again last week. We didn’t get a chance to discuss it, thanks to all the drama. But he made me an offer. I think I want to take it.”

Zanny frowned lightly. “What kind of offer?”

“A good one.” He told her that Hershel was offering a significant increase in both benefits and salary, and her eyebrows shot up.

“Wow. That’s a very good offer. What’s holding you back?”

“Dave. I hate to leave him. He gave me a start, Zan. He didn’t have to.”

She nodded. “That’s true. But, and don’t take this the wrong way, even though you didn’t necessarily cause the whole thing with Tracy? I think it probably isn’t going to be the most comfortable working situation for you with everyone else.”

“I know. And I think I’d like the job with Hershel better. I wouldn’t be dealing directly with the general public. It would be a challenge, but in a good way.”

“It’s ultimately your decision, but I think it sounds like a good opportunity. And I think Dave will understand.”

He stretched. “I suppose so. I have to give Hershel an answer this week. I just…I don’t know what to do.”

“What would you tell someone else to do?”

“Jump on it.”

Zanny just smiled and spread her hands, and John was struck by how simple she made it sound.

“Okay.” He pulled the coffee table over and sat on the edge. Leaning forward, he touched her knee. “Now, what do we do about us?”

“I don’t know.” She put her hand over his, curling her fingers around his. “We can’t just go on like we’ve been. I know that much.”

John ducked his head. “Zanny…I love you. But I can’t answer your questions. Not yet.”

She didn’t speak, and after a minute, he looked up.

“Okay. And I can’t give in on this. My gut is telling me it’s too important, John. I love you, too, but we have to fix this.”

John lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth. “So what do we do? I want to come home.” When tears filled her eyes and spilled over, John had to clear his throat. He reached out to gently wipe away the dampness. “But you’re not ready for that, are you?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t expected her to be. “I had to ask.”

“I know.”

“What do we do about the boys?”

She squeezed his hand and put her feet on the floor. “You could come here this weekend, spend some time. Maybe come down Saturday? Spend the day, and we’ll go from there?”

He didn’t like it, but he didn’t feel as if he had a choice, not if he wanted to save his marriage. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. What if you need me?”

“Then I’ll pick up the phone and call you.”

With a sigh, he cupped her face. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

She stood up, and John moved the coffee table back so that she had room to move, but he captured her hands and tugged her to a stop. “Can I see?”

This time, her smile was genuine and pleased. “Yes.”

Positioning her so that she was in front of him, her waist at his eye level, he eased her top up. Zanny held it while he unbuttoned her pants and pulled the waist down.

“You know it’s too soon to feel anything.”

“I don’t care.” He rested his head against her belly, his hand flat and gentle as he caressed the skin of her abdomen. “I love you, Zanny.”

She ran her hand over his head. “I know. I love you, too.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until John sighed and sat back. Zanny straightened her clothes and moved to away without looking at him.

“I guess I’ll head out. What time do you want me here Saturday?”

“We’ll be up around eight or nine, if I know your sons. So whenever you want to come by.” Arms crossed over her chest, she walked him to the door. “John? Thanks for understanding.”

“Don’t think this is easy for me. Because it isn’t. But I know you need time.”

She looked up at him. “Not just time. Until you’re ready to talk, there isn’t much we can do.”

John didn’t have a response. He couldn’t bring himself to answer what she was asking him. “Promise you’ll call?”

“I will.”

Taking a chance, he bent his head and kissed her softly. He took heart from the way Zanny clung to him and returned the kiss.

Lifting his head and walking out the door was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But knowing what was at stake, he forced himself to do just that.

Chapter Twenty-Four

J
ohn thought about stopping to get something to eat on his way back up to his parents’ house, but he wasn’t really hungry. He would grab something later from the provisions he’d stocked the studio with on Sunday.

As much as he didn’t want to talk to anyone about his conflict with his intimate desires, he desperately needed advice about the rest of it. The one person he knew he could depend on for that advice was his mother. She wasn’t talking to him, but John figured it was time to offer an olive branch and attempt to mend that breach.

He stopped at the farmhouse. Amelia let him in, then rushed down the hall toward the kitchen. John followed slowly.

“What’re you doing, Pip?”

“Cooking supper. You hungry?”

“A little. What are you fixing?”

She threw him a grin over her shoulder. “It’s a surprise.”

That meant she was experimenting and didn’t know what to call it. Amelia had been following their mother around the kitchen since she was old enough to walk, and she loved to cook. Most of the time, her concoctions turned out well enough.

“So how did it go? Your meeting with Zanny?”

John grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and sat down at the island before answering. “Well enough, I think. I’m hoping to talk to Mom tonight when she and Dad get home.”

Amelia assessed him shrewdly, and John was struck with the realization that his baby sister, at sixteen, was nearly grown. “I’ve been wondering when you’d brave up enough to do that. She’s been pretty angry. I can’t blame you for being hesitant.”

“Well, she’s had reason to be angry.”

“I know.”

They talked about her algebra class as she dished up a bowl of whatever it was she’d made. John was a little wary when she handed him the dish of noodles, broccoli, and cheese, but he figured it couldn’t be any worse than something he would make. He forked up a bite and tried it.

He felt his eyes widen as he looked across the island at his grinning sister.

“Good, isn’t it?” Satisfied, she came around to sit beside him with her own bowl.

John was too busy eating to answer her. “Good” didn’t quite cover it. The food was fabulous. When he’d inhaled half the contents of his bowl, he told her that.

“Thanks.”

The front door opened, and Sarah called out.

“We’re in here!” Amelia patted his arm and stood as footsteps approached. “Hey, Mom, Dad. I’m going to finish eating in the living room.”

Owen came on into the kitchen, but Sarah stopped at the door. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him.

John looked directly at her. “Mom. We need to talk.”

Owen nodded. “I’ll join Amelia.”

She put her purse on the counter next and accepted Owen’s kiss as he passed, but she didn’t leave the room. John took that as a positive sign.

Finished with the food, he got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. “How was Zanny when you left her?”

“Okay. A little sad.”

“Yeah.” He studied his mother, who was inspecting the pot of noodles. “The kid’s a good cook. You should try some of that.”

“Maybe later.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Sarah’s hands, busy with straightening the counter, stilled. “All right.”

“I messed up, and I know that. And I said some things I’m not proud of. Things I shouldn’t have said and didn’t believe, not really.”

“Is that what you told Zanny tonight?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know how. And…I know you’re angry. But I need your help.”

Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. John didn’t know if her expression was less angry than it had been in the last few days or if he was just being optimistic, but he was going to stick with the former. “You said it to me easily enough.”

“It’s not that simple with Zanny. If I apologize, I have to explain why I said what I did in the first place. And that’s something I don’t know how to do without hurting her. I don’t want to hurt her again.”

Sarah sighed and pushed her hair back off her face. “This sounds like it’s going to take a while. How does coffee sound?”

“Sounds good.”

They didn’t talk about what he’d said as the coffee brewed. Instead, she asked him about Zanny. “She told you she’s pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He toyed with his wedding band, rotating it on his finger. “I think I knew before she did this time.”

That gave his mother pause. “You’re not upset?”

“That she’s pregnant again so soon after having Eli?” He felt his cheeks flush a little. “I’d hoped we’d wait a while longer, yeah. It’d be nice to have some time for us. But I’m just a little disappointed. Not upset. I mean, it’s a baby. We make adorable babies. Maybe this one will be a girl.”

Sarah laid a hand on his arm and squeezed, and John had to clear his throat as emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

The coffee was ready, and they took their cups down the hall to Sarah’s sitting room. A reading nook tucked in at the back of the house, the room was a cozy area Owen had designed and built for her after Ben and Emma were born. The kids, even to this day, were only allowed in by invitation. She closed the door behind them, and John took a seat on the overstuffed couch.

“So talk to me. Tell me what it is you can’t say to Zanny.”

John did. “And when we were arguing Friday night, I…I didn’t handle it well at all, obviously. And it isn’t that I don’t think she works hard. That was mostly anger and later, alcohol, talking. I know that now.” He looked down at his hands. “But I don’t know how to tell her to-to chill out, I guess, without hurting her. I can’t even find the words to tell you.” He groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Help.”

“Hmmm.”

John glanced at her and saw that she was watching him with a frown. It was more thoughtful than angry. He relaxed a little.

“So it isn’t that you don’t like what she does. Just that she does it so well.”

John laughed. “God, I sound like a fool. But Mom, she…she’s perfect. She puts so much pressure on herself, and I feel like if I don’t try to at least match her, I’m letting her down. I don’t know how to tell her to just let things go from time to time, that she doesn’t have to worry about disappointing me, without her taking it the wrong way.”

Sarah blew out a long breath. “I do understand what you’re talking about. We’ve seen it. When she stayed here with us while you finished school, she was like that. She made me feel like I was a slouch, but she seemed to enjoy what she was doing. And it bothered her when we tried to get her to slow down. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she wouldn’t have. So I understand. I don’t really know what to tell you. I need to think about it.”

“Thanks.” John felt better, knowing that his mother didn’t think he was crazy.

“Is that the only thing bothering you? The only thing you’re not talking to her about?”

“Uh…no. But I can’t talk about the other thing. That’s something I have to do on my own.”

Sarah sat forward and touched his arm. “John, please tell me there isn’t someone else.”

“What? No!” His face felt like it was on fire, but he met her eyes. “No. There’s only Zanny.”

His mother closed her eyes briefly. “Thank God. I love you, no matter what, but if you’d been cheating on her, I don’t know how I’d handle that.”

They talked for a few minutes after that, and then joined Amelia and Owen in the living room. John didn’t stay very long. The day had been emotionally draining, and he needed some time to process it all.

Sarah walked him to the kitchen door. “I’ll think about what we discussed.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

The night was cool, but not cold, and the air smelled like rain as he crossed the short distance between the house and the studio. It was the kind of night he and Zanny loved to spend in their bedroom after the boys went to sleep, with a window cracked open just enough to let fresh air inside. They would snuggle together under the blankets and hold each other, love each other, or sometimes, just talk.

The spike of pure hunger and emotional need he felt almost drove him to his car and back to town. For probably the first time in his life, John felt truly alone, without the one person in the world by his side who could make it better just by breathing. That feeling shook him because he knew Zanny had probably felt that for most of her life. That knowledge tore him apart.

Once inside the studio, he went straight upstairs to the bedroom, then out onto the balcony beyond. From there, he took the stairs that led up to a walled flat area on the roof where he knew his parents liked to go to stargaze. He sat down on the lounge chair, drawing his knees up to his chest, and let his emotions come.