Maybe This Time (16 page)

She left the library and drove slowly down High Street, trying to avoid hitting any jaywalking students while preoccupied with her options. Maybe a psychiatrist, maybe her mind was playing tricks. Or maybe a detective, the Archers had an agency right there in Columbus they used, so maybe somebody just needed to investigate and find out . . . Something. There had to be
something
. . .

She looked up and realized she'd automatically turned off High and onto Fifth Street, force of habit from when she'd been married to North and made that drive every day, so when she reached Neil Avenue, she turned left, heading south again. But when she neared the big blue Victorian that said
ARCHER LEGAL GROUP
on the tastefully painted sign out front, she slowed and then pulled over when the car behind her honked.

The light was on back in North's office. It was almost six but he was in there, she could see the glow from his window. He'd be in there for hours yet probably. The second floor of the house was dark, Lydia must be out, and of course the attic apartment wasn't lit up; North wasn't there.
I'm not there.

So he was working late behind that damn desk. She hadn't always hated that desk. There'd been many an evening when she'd gone downstairs from their apartment at six and said,
Hey, you have a wife,
and shoved his papers on the floor, and he'd kissed her and they'd ended up on that desk, breathing hard. That was a sturdy piece of furniture, which had been a good thing, until the day she'd gone down to see him, and he'd snapped, Not now,
I have to finish this
. . .

The door to the house next door opened and Southie came out with the usual bounce in his step, off to have dinner with whatever woman he was chasing or drinks with some pal or something else that would make him happy.
Maybe I should have married Southie,
she thought, and then realized how awful that would have been. Southie was a sweetheart but she'd have killed him before the year was out just from sheer exasperation at his inability to focus on anything for longer than a month. And he didn't work. It really was hard to respect a man who didn't work seriously at
something
. . .

Wow,
she thought.
That came out of nowhere.
Maybe that had been part of North's pull, that he was such a hard worker. There was irony for you.

Southie got in his car and drove away.

She looked back at the light in North's office. She could go in there and talk to him. She could tell him that they should look into art schools for Carter, she could tell him that Alice would love to meet a lepidopterist although she wouldn't act like it, she could tell him she thought somebody was playing tricks on her, that she was having weird dreams . . .

No, she couldn't tell him about the dreams. And she couldn't go in there, either. He was working.

She looked at the clock and saw it was almost six-thirty and started the car. She was late, and there was no reason in the world for her to walk through that door again, walking through that door just made her angry.

She made two turns and got back on High Street, irrationally upset, and angry with herself for being irrationally upset.

She had bigger problems than being discarded ten years ago.
Focus,
she told herself, and turned the car down Frankfort and into German Village and her future husband.

 

Andie found a parking spot not far from Flo's house and ran the block and a half to the restaurant. Will was sitting next to the window in the narrow side bay, and his face lit up when he saw her and he waved as she ran by, so when she kissed him and then sat down across from him, breathless, he said, “Easy there, kid.”

“I'm sorry I'm late,” she said, leaning back to catch her breath.

“I'm just glad to see you,” he said, laid-back as ever, the soft overhead light shining on his blond hair, and she thought again what an extremely nice guy he was.

Oh, hell,
she thought.
I haven't seen him for over three weeks. I should be thinking of something besides “nice guy.”

“What's wrong?” he said, his smile fading.

“I'm not sure.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Did you see North? Did he upset you?”

“No, I didn't see him.”
I thought about him, though.
She looked at Will and realized that she'd never once felt the same way about him that she felt now for North, even now when it was over and she was never going to be with him again, she'd still been parked outside his house thinking,
I could go in there.

“Well, then, let me get you a beer,” Will began.

“No, I have to drive tonight,” Andie said, remembering that long trip home in the dark. “Diet Coke would be great, though.”

Will caught the waitress and asked for a Diet Coke, and Andie picked up the menu. The year they'd been married, North had just ordered a Diet Coke and ice water with whatever he ordered. So if she was late, the drinks were on the table when she got there. It wasn't important, in fact, it was kind of controlling of him, really a black mark against him . . .

It had been nice. To have the little stuff like that just . . .
handled.

“Andie?”

If she told Will that she'd like him to order the Diet Coke and water before she got there, he would. He wasn't a mind reader, for Christ's sake.

“Andie?”

“What? Oh, sorry. Distracted.” Andie looked at her menu without seeing it. Something was really, really wrong, and it wasn't ghosts. She put the menu down again and looked at Will, really looked at him.

He was a good guy. Sweet, thoughtful, charming, smart, a really hard worker, she'd fallen for him because he was all those things and because he'd never break her heart the way North had because she didn't love him that way, that hopeless, helpless, all-consuming passion for somebody that wrecked your life . . .

“Now I'm getting nervous,” Will said.

She didn't want that kind of love again. But maybe Will did. Maybe he deserved somebody who loved him that way.

“Andie?”

“It's just strange coming back here,” she told him.

“To Max and Erma's?”

“To Columbus.”

“You've only been gone three weeks.”

“It's been an intense three weeks.”

“All the more reason for you to spend the night,” Will said, smiling, easy. “Give yourself some time to decompress.”

“I've been compressed since I walked into North's office.”

“I love hearing about how he makes you feel crappy,” Will said. “Does that make me a bad person?”

He was grinning at her, trying to get her into their usual laughing conversation, but she shook her head.

“You're one of the best people I know,” she told him.

“Well, thank you very much. So what's wrong?”

“I'm just really tired. It's me, not you.” Well, it was a little him, but mostly it was the kids. She looked at her watch. It was almost their bedtime now, but Crumb probably wouldn't put them to bed, and she definitely wouldn't tell Alice a story and—

“Andie?” Will said, and she jerked her attention back to him.

“Sorry. It's the kids' bedtime. I'm thinking about tooth brushing and storytelling. Not very romantic.”

“See? I knew you'd want to be a mother after you had some time with kids.”

“I don't want to be a mother,” Andie said, really sick of saying that to him. “I want to take care of Alice and Carter.”

“I can't wait to meet them,” Will said, trying to placate her.

He was being nice. She was being bitchy. “Oh, hell, I'm sorry again. I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Maybe you're sexually frustrated,” Will said. “Come back to the apartment and I'll take care of that. You can go back tomorrow.”

I don't want to.
“That's very generous. But if I leave now, I can be home by midnight. I don't like leaving the kids alone.” Andie leaned back as the waitress put her Diet Coke in front of her. “Thank you.” Would she have said no to North? She never had, not until the end, when she was on her way out the door, trying to save herself—

“There's a housekeeper.”

“Yeah, well, you haven't met the housekeeper.”

“I'd
like
to,” Will said, his smile gone. “But you won't let me—”

“Will, can we just . . .” She looked at him then, at the great guy he was, and thought,
Great guy but the wrong guy. Goddammit.

“Can we just what?”

“You're a great guy, Will.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her again.

“You're sweet and you're kind and you're smart and you're hardworking, you're everything I admire in a man.”

“If you're trying to make me feel better, you're doing a great job.” He saluted her with his beer.

“And you're very good in bed.”

“So about tonight,” Will began.

“And those are all the reasons I wanted to be with you.”

Will's smile disappeared. “Wanted?”

“I chose you because you really are an amazing man, somebody I could have fun with for the rest of my life, somebody I could trust, somebody who would always be there for me.” The words were pouring out of her now, she couldn't stop if she tried—

“These are good things,” Will said, looking confused.

“And I really do love you,” Andie said.

“Good,” Will said, even more confused.

“When I left North, I left him. I never went back. I didn't see him for ten years. And then when I went to give him the checks back, I sat in his reception room just simmering with anger, I was still so angry with him, Will, I was irrational.”

“Hey, if he makes you that unhappy, stay away from him.”

“If he makes me that unhappy, I'm not done with him,” Andie said, and there it was, right there out loud.

Will nodded. “I know. I think it's good you're talking to him again. I mean, I don't like it, but I can see where you need to sever that connection—”

“That's not it,” Andie said. “I love you, I think you're a great guy, and I'm not going back to North, I can't go back to him, but . . . I'm still
tied to him,
and until I work that out . . . I'm so sorry, Will. I'm so, so sorry.”

“So I'll wait until you work it out.”

“No,” Andie said, and then the waitress came back to take their
order and she shook her head. “No,” she said, and the waitress left again, and she said, “No, I need to stop this. I can't see you anymore.”

Will sat back, looking stunned. “Just like that?”

“It's not just like that, it's been like that since I saw North again and met the kids.” She frowned, trying to think of how to explain it. “I've been running ever since I left North ten years ago. Well, before that, if I'm going to be honest. But now I've got something I can't run from.” She leaned forward, trying to make him see. “The kids need me. They don't want anything from me, they'd be delighted if I left, but they need me. And things are so much better—”

“I don't care about the kids,” Will said. “I care about you. I—”

“I need to be without North and you,” Andie said. “Until I get the kids safe, until I figure out what the hell I want, I need to just be . . . me.”

“When have I ever asked you to be anything else?” he said, clearly annoyed now.

“You haven't. I put that badly.” Andie rubbed her forehead. “Okay, I'll make this simple. I can't give you what you deserve, and I'm not going to feel guilty about it anymore, so we're finished.”

“Don't you think I should decide what I deserve?”

“I think I should decide what—”

“Because ‘I need to take care of two kids I barely know' is not a good enough reason.”

“I still want North.”

As soon as she said it, she slumped, as if the tension of denial had been keeping her upright.
God, that felt good,
she thought.
The truth really does set you free.
Then she looked across the table at Will as the silence stretched out and thought,
Oh, hell.

“I'm sorry,” she began, and then somebody rapped on the window and Andie jerked around.

Flo was outside, waving.

“Wonderful,” Andie said, and got up.

“Wait a minute,” Will said, looking furious.

“No,” Andie said. “I am so sorry I did this to you, I am so sorry I'm doing this now, but . . . no.”

She turned and walked away, out of the restaurant and around to Frankfort Street where Flo was waiting.

“I saw your car,” she said. “You look awful. What's going on?”

“I just broke it off with Will.”

“Good.” Flo patted her arm.

The sympathy was almost too much. “I think I might still be in love with North.”

“I know, honey.” Flo put her arm around her. “Come on back to the house and I'll make some cocoa.”

That sounded so good that Andie almost said yes, just to be able to go back home with her mother, put her head down on the old wood kitchen table, and cry like a baby from all the released tension while Flo made soothing noises and put marshmallows in her hot chocolate.

“I can't,” she said. “I have to get back to the kids.”

“Then I'll walk you to the car,” Flo said, and made soothing noises for a block and a half.

“Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so,' ” Andie told her when they reached her car.

“Like I would.” Flo stretched up and kissed her cheek. “If you need me, you call.”

“Right,” Andie said. “I will. I really will. Thank you, Mom.”

She kissed her mother good-bye and then made good time heading south, turning off onto the ever-more-deserted roads and then finally onto the narrow lane to the house, taking that insane drop to the driveway that Bruce still had not gotten around to fixing—“I'll probably be out in a couple of days or so,” he said whenever she called—all the while thinking about North. Not Will, the nice guy she'd just dumped who would have been a good, steady, loving
husband who'd never neglect her, but the rat bastard who'd deserted her for his career, just left her upstairs in their attic apartment to rot . . .