Point Hope (12 page)

“Okay.” She watched the sunset darken to deeper reds. Her wine and his beer arrived. She held the glass close and drew in the fragment aroma before taking a sip.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said, bringing her gaze back to him. His eyes were glowing. He was looking at her, really looking at her in a way she had almost forgotten. In the soft candlelight, he suddenly looked years younger, like he was twenty and on fire for life.

His words, and maybe the wine, made her head feel light. She’d only drunk a few swallows but found it hard to believe that his attention could make her swoon like that. “Thank you.”

Maybe he had meant more than just putting aside their troubles for tonight, even if that seemed too simplistic. They couldn’t fix their marriage by putting off their problems, but what about tonight? She wondered if they could step away from everything and be two people who were attracted to each other again.

“You look really good too,” she said at last, attempting to sound normal. “I love that shirt on you.” He held her gaze, giving her the impression he was feeling out the situation. She wished she could say,
I just want us to be like we were before.

Their waitress entered the sunroom with their soup, offering a welcome diversion from Rosette’s thoughts. Hearty soup made her think of wet, windy days and eating dinner with friends. Angel was famous for her delicious homemade chowder with extra bacon, bits of potatoes that weren’t too mushy like the restaurant kind, and just the right seasonings.

“I can’t remember what we were fighting about,” Trey said, looking out the window. Darkness was winning out. He glanced at her.

“When?” she asked.

“That’s what I mean. Which fight? When? What was it about? I can’t answer any of those.”

She tilted her head, so many words hovering on her tongue:
You weren’t there when I needed you. You didn’t care that I had a miscarriage. You tuned me and your kids out when I needed help.

To be fair, it hadn’t been one-sided. He’d had some valid complaints about her too. She did, however, have more trouble remembering those right now.

She gave a little shake of her head. “I guess I don’t know either.”

Maybe things would be better if they forgot. The flame on the candle flickered and stilled. Something about the glow illuminated her thoughts, and that’s when she had a true moment of insight. All along, she had been hoping for an apology from him. And maybe that was simply all that was needed: a heartfelt acknowledgement that he hadn’t fully stepped up to the plate, and a sincere promise to take more responsibility.

The air felt lighter around them, but she noticed they still weren’t saying much. Voices mingled all around the room, and a toddler was being a little fussy in the back corner.

Their food arrived with a whiff of scrumptious aromas, and they ate while making small talk. It felt so nice that she didn’t care about anything else.

“Did you see the picture Candice drew of our family?” he asked.

Rosette shook her head because her mouth was full of noodles. It was strange that he’d seen the drawing and not her.

“She drew all of us together, with Summer and Hope even, and—” He stopped, choked up. “And Ricky and Amanda were flying above us, with angel wings.”

Tears crowded Rosette’s eyes too. She blinked until she could speak. “We should save that. Hope might want to see it when she’s older.” She grabbed her wine, not wanting to let all the emotions crash back in.

“So,” Trey said, forcing a more cheerful voice. “Alex wanted a family trip to the beach for his birthday?”

At least that was something brighter to talk about. They kept the conversation light throughout the rest of dinner, but Rosette felt the mood change when they walked outside into the chilly night air. Was it just the darkness? She shivered on the way to the car. Once Trey started the engine, she adjusted the heat all the way up.

“This weird thought keeps popping up,” Trey said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “It doesn’t make sense though.” He fell quiet, definitely thinking about something.

An idea about them? About her?
Trey glanced her way as if he actually wanted her to press him for a change. Instead, she held her breath and played with her wedding ring.

“Do you think it’s possible…” he paused as he made the turn from the street onto the highway. She knew he didn’t need to concentrate that hard to drive. Something was really bothering him, she realized, and her meal started burning in her stomach. Maybe she should have skipped the wine with dinner. “What if someone drove her off the road?”

Rosette opened her mouth as if words would come. None did. Could he have a reason to think someone tried to hurt Amanda? Or was he simply hoping it wasn’t suicide.

He looked at her, hard. “Is that crazy talk?”

She shook her head. “No.” That would explain so much, if it were true.

“There’s this girl,” she began. Maybe the girl didn’t have anything to do with Trey. Maybe it was all about Ricky and Amanda. She felt a sick mix of relief and dread.

Trey pulled to the shoulder. They were on the highway, but there was hardly any traffic heading out their direction. Just a few sets of headlights came and went by. “What girl?”

“Alex spotted this young girl that walks by the house really slow sometimes. I’ve seen her too.” A car passed and she thought she saw the idea take root in Trey’s mind. “Should we call the police?” she asked.

Trey raked a hand through his hair and leaned forward on the steering wheel. Like her, he must have been going through the evidence. What would they tell the police?

“Did Amanda ever mention anyone who had it out for her?”

It was such a strange question. “No. I can’t even think of a single person who didn’t like her. What about Ricky?”

He turned toward her in the darkness. “What about him? He was killed in Afghanistan, fighting for their freedom.” A twinge of bitterness came through his voice.

“He sacrificed everything,” she said carefully. “To keep Americans safe too.”

“I know, I know.” He rubbed his face. “I just don’t see a connection between that, and someone hurting Amanda here, especially if it is that girl you’ve seen.”

“Maybe she was in love with Ricky.” Even as Rosette said it, she thought it sounded ridiculous. They were grasping for any theory that was better than suicide. “You know, we may be totally off base here.”

He straightened, checked the road, and put the car in gear. “Well, I’ll look into it—see if there’s anything that makes sense.”

She should think through it logically, too. But right now, she was trying not to picture a strange vehicle driving toward Amanda’s car, forcing her off the road.

Chapter Eleven

Trey parked in the garage and turned off the engine. Rosette again noticed his cologne, shifting her mind back to her husband. Memories of standing on the porch after one of their early dates swirled around her, and she wanted to say something that would bring back those feelings.

He reached for the door handle but paused. “Let’s keep this between us for now.”

His mind was still on that darker subject. She wasn’t sure who else she’d even tell at this point. “Alex knows,” she reminded him. “At least about the girl watching the house. Not about any of our suspicions.”

“But we can leave it at that.”

He used his half-questioning, half-telling voice that made it hard to argue. She wasn’t exactly sure why he had made the request, but she nodded. He nodded too. They went inside and found the house quiet and still. She felt safe again and realized she’d been nervous in the car, thinking about Amanda’s accident…and about the feelings and possibilities with Trey. This smelled like their home and had all the markings of their family, from Alex’s shoes by the garage door to the kiddie art on the fridge.

Trey looked at her, reaching over and running his hand down her arm. The soft touch felt unfamiliar but welcome. “I guess things went okay here,” he whispered. She smiled, forcing it at first but then finding her real smile.

“I kept picturing Alex with a screaming baby for three hours!” She nudged off one high heel and then the other, picking them up by their sling-back straps.  

Trey took her free hand as they tiptoed up the stairs together. A soft light was shining out of their open bedroom door. Alex was lying across the bed on his stomach, reading a book, and looked up at their arrival.

“How’d it go?” he whispered, his gaze honing in on their hands. For an odd second, it felt like he was the parent and they were the teenagers, coming home late and trying to sneak upstairs.

“The food was great. We had a good time,” Trey replied. “Thanks again for thinking of us.”

Alex tried to cover his lopsided smile.

They whispered goodnight, and Trey shut the door after Alex. They shared a look, a happy one that said they’d given Alex what he needed. Rosette walked to the crib and checked on Hope. This tiny girl needed them too. She had no idea that her parents were gone and this family was hanging on by a frayed thread.

Trey came up behind her. She could just barely feel his body heat as he hesitated. Then he lightly touched her hip and slid his hand up to her waist.

Familiarity and desire bloomed in her like a match to a candlewick, making her draw in a ragged breath. Their sex life had once been rowdy and fun but had dwindled down to plain survival sex.

Tonight his touch was different. Her body felt different. She wanted everything they used to have.

Encouraged, he leaned close to tickle her neck with his mouth. She leaned back into him and felt their bodies connect through their clothing. Either he turned her or she did. Soon she faced him and their mouths met for a tentative, yet pressing, kiss. His hand went to the top of her dress zipper, but he didn’t pull on it quite yet. She was glad; his hands felt so nice on her back.

It was a miracle. They had actually managed to put aside their differences for the night.

But what if there
was
someone else? What if he was thinking about that person?

She pictured Leena with her perfectly styled, highlighted, smooth hair and cute, clinging clothes. Leena had new knee-high boots and one of those matching short leather coats with long sleeves. She had her nails perfectly done and wore flashy makeup that still managed to look good.

“Trey…” She pulled her head back, wanting to give in to his kisses on her neck, but more than that, she wanted to know the truth. “With all the problems we’ve been having, I keep wondering if you might have someone else.”

It was much easier than she’d expected to say those words, but once she’d spoken, stillness crept into the room like a chilly, blinding fog. He stiffened and straightened, leaving her cold and alone.

“Why would you ask that?” His tone was perfectly neutral, almost conversational, like he might be a bit surprised but not upset. Like he’d thought about answering this question way too often.

“Well, because we’ve had so many problems and have been growing apart, I started to wonder if you…had met someone else. Maybe even someone we both know.” She was fishing, and deliberately punishing herself. Did she really want to know? Of course not. But how could she kiss him and sleep with him if he were pretending she was another woman? It was eating her up like caustic acid.

He stepped back, sighing like she was a pesky little girl. “Rosette.”

So he wasn’t going to budge. His tone seemed to say she was being ridiculous, and yet he hadn’t denied it. There
had
to be something going on. They were standing close enough that she could hear the tension in his breath as he breathed in and out. 

“Maybe you should tell me about Ricky.”

Her heart stopped. Even her lungs quit working. He knew? He
knew?
All this time and he’d said
nothing
?

Her lungs burned, and she forced herself to take a breath.

Thank God the lamp was off. Even though she wanted to see his face—to see how hurt or angry he was—she couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at her.

They’d stepped apart a few feet by now, but it felt like miles.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, wincing at the high-pitched voice that squeaked out.

Trey moved toward her, but walked on by and into the bathroom, shutting the door. Apparently he didn’t want to talk about it. Why would he, especially after she’d denied it?

When he came out of the bathroom, he slipped under the covers and faced the other way. She got ready for bed, trying to understand how they were sleeping together in the same bed, when things were getting worse and worse.

~  ~ ~

Mondays weren’t supposed to be this bad, not when you’re off work. Hell, maybe life would be better if Trey convinced Harry to let him come back a week early. No, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever be ready to face his job again.

He leaned over his plate of eggs and bacon with half-closed eyes, thankful the dining area was quiet again. The kids had scarfed down their scrambled eggs and ran off to watch TV, and the older ones weren’t up yet. Was Summer one of their older kids now?

To say he felt like a train wreck would be an understatement. Things with Rosette had gone from horrible, to better, to completely FUBAR all in one night. He just wanted things between them to be good, for life to be good, instead of one painful day after another. Last night was a long night. A very long night. Trey had stayed in the bedroom with Rosette, aching for her, because he didn’t want her to think he left the room for the wrong reason. He couldn’t let her think he ran away because she suspected there was someone else. There wasn’t, not really, not anything that mattered or meant anything at all, so running away would just make him look guilty.

He also didn’t want her to think he left the bedroom so he could fantasize about another woman, or because he didn’t want to lie beside his wife. Both of those were so far from the truth.

Then there was the sticky little situation about Ricky. He didn’t want Rosette worrying that he was mad about it—as senseless as it was to simply let it go, he had done just that. He should be mad. He should have been mad six years ago when it happened, but since he’d never confronted her then, it now seemed like water under the bridge. Nothing had changed between them, or between Ricky and Rosette, after that kiss. He’d decided it was a fluke.