Pretense (8 page)

She hadn't, but tears that had been squelched then now filled her eyes. She came into her mother's arms, and Paul, with a hand to Delancey's back, took the other little girl from the room.

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Marrell, dressed in nice slacks and a blouse, never hesitated. She sank down to hold Mackenzie right where they were.

"I don't like it when you're gone all morning," Mackenzie admitted when she could talk, her nose still drippy.

"I know, but I had a good time, and I haven't seen my friend in a long time. In fact, she offered me a job in her office, but I told her no because I wanted to be home with my little girls."

Mackenzie smiled, and Marrell kissed her cheek.

"Now, tell me something fun that you did."

"Dad took us down to play tennis. D.J. went first and then me, and then D.J. and I played each other."

"Are you getting better at hitting the ball?"

"Sorta. I think D.J. hits it more than I do." A competitive frown lowered the nine-year-old's brow, and Marrell smiled.

"Did y'all have lunch?"

"No, and I'm hungry."

With Shay's face suddenly in her mind, Marrell hugged Mackenzie. Remembering how painful the morning had been, she knew that no job she might need to perform for her children and husband would cause her to complain.

"So how was it?"

Night had finally come. Paul and Marrell were alone in the living room. Only one light burned. Marrell was on the sofa and Paul in an overstuffed chair. The light was on Marrell's face, and Paul was watching his wife, much as he'd done all afternoon. She had played with the girls and been completely normal for them, but he had seen the pain.

"It was hard, Paul," Marrell began softly. She was silent for a moment and then continued. "I was so afraid that it would be uncomfortable, and it was, but not because of the divorce. Shay's head is so messed up. She's been into all this trash, ridiculous psychotherapy, and even drugs, and now she's on the verge of having an affair with her therapist."

Paul nodded but wasn't too surprised. Something pretty serious had to have made his wife this upset.

"You probably wouldn't have recognized me," Marrell went on. "I told her how I felt. I decided that I would have my say even if she kicked me out."

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A small smile lingered around Paul's mouth. He would have loved to see her in action.

"What did you say?"

"I can't remember all of it," she admitted. "I know I asked her if they'd already been intimate, and when she said no, I told her to call and break it off with him. You wouldn't have believed it, Paul." Her face was shocked as she remembered it all over again. "He called in the middle of our conversation."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I were. I was ready to leave her so she could talk to him, but she wanted me to stay."

Marrell had run out of words. She laid her head against the sofa back and stared at the ceiling. Paul continued to watch her.

"How did you end up inviting her for dinner Tuesday?"

"I don't think she has anyone," she said before looking at him. "We don't have plans, do we?"

"No, I just wondered. She's not bringing this guy, is she?"

Marrell shook her head. "She broke it off. Right on the phone she told him. Their sessions are usually on Tuesday nights, so I invited her for that night specifically so he can't contact her."

Paul took a moment to compute all of this, remembering the way she had come home and hugged him, the almost desperate way she had held on. Paul wasn't close to anyone other than his wife and girls, but he hurt when they hurt and could well imagine how all of this had affected her.

"Still glad you went?" he asked.

"Yeah. I love her, Paul. And in so many ways she's still the same Shay. Even with all she's been through, I feel so lucky to be in the same town and able to see her." Marrell pulled a sudden face. "She says I have an accent."

"They're saying the same thing to me at work."

Marrell's mouth opened. The women she had met in Texas had had such pronounced accents that she never heard her own.

"Do the girls?"

"I'm sure they do. What's the trauma?"

"I just don't want them teased at school."

"Don't borrow trouble. The other kids may think it's fun."

Marrell was not convinced, but Paul was done talking about Shay, Texas accents, and his daughters.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

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"A little."

"How tired?"

There was no missing his tone. Marrell smiled, and with that Paul rose and went to the stereo. Moments later the room was full of the soft sounds of the Glenn Miller Band. Paul held out his hand, and Marrell joined him in the middle of the floor. They danced slowly for the next 40 minutes with little need for conversation.

Not until Marrell had stood had she realized how tired she was, but the photo of Shay and Marty came to mind.I
don't hate the man, I just can't live with him.
With a huge sigh, Marrell moved a little deeper into her husband's embrace.

Marrell was nervous on Tuesday evening. Half of her expected Shay to call and cancel, and the other half hoped she would. How well did she know Shay now? What if she decided she wanted Paul?

Marrell felt horrible for the thought and pushed it away. No matter what Shay had been into, she would not try to entice Paul. Marrell was sure of that. Not to mention Paul; he was not interested in other women. Marrell had always known that. A marriage built on suspicion was no marriage at all.

"How's it going?"

Marrell turned in surprise to find the man of her thoughts standing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're early."

"Yeah. I assumed you were working yourself into a trauma, but I must have been wrong."

"Why do you think you're wrong?"

He shrugged. "The table's set, the house looks great, the girls aren't fighting."

"Well, I'm glad to know that the surface looks good."

Paul came and put his arms around her for that.

"What has your imagination dreamed up?"

"That she'll decide she wants my husband next."

"Oh, Mary." Paul's voice was low.

"I'm sorry, Paul. I'm going to give you a horrid impression of her. I love Shay. I wish I hadn't even thought of it."

"I'm sure we'll get along fine. And even if she did put designs on me, there's only one woman I'm interested in."

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"I just finished telling myself that." Paul kissed her. "Where are the girls?"

"They want Shay to see their rooms, so they're fixing them up." Paul kissed her again. "I'll check on them on the way to the shower. Is there anything else you need?"

"No. You're home, and that's all that matters." Paul smiled before moving on his way. The clock read 5:20. Shay would be there soon. The lasagna was in the oven, and the salad and dressing were waiting in the refrigerator. She wouldn't do the bread until after Shay arrived. It was one of the few meals she never messed up, but she was still nervous. The sound of water came from upstairs, and she knew Paul was in the shower. The thought calmed her. She didn't have to face this alone. She was glad she'd met Shay again, but if for some reason it didn't work out, she always had her husband and girls. Telling herself she was finally ready to face the evening, Marrell went back to work on the pot she was washing.

"I can't believe how pretty they are, Marrell," Shay said several hours later.

Marrell smiled. Paul had just taken the girls off to bed, and the women had already started their coffee in the living room.

"We think so," Marrell replied, "but we're just a bit biased."

"Mackenzie's huge gray-green eyes and brown hair, and D.J.'s blond hair and blue eyes-I can't believe it. But then you've always been pretty."

Marrell laughed, but then she had been laughing all evening. She had expected Shay to arrive in a sad state, but in truth she'd been in a very good mood. There were moments when Marrell caught a look in her eyes, but Shay was swift to disguise it. Now, however, with no one else looking, Marrell caught sight of the pain that she had masked.

"How are you doing?" Marrell asked for the first time.

"All right." Shay's voice was soft. "He actually came to the office yesterday to see me, but I think I made him see that I was serious. He was upset but didn't cause a scene. I wanted to cry my eyes out after that but didn't and found that I actually had done the right thing."

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"I wondered about that. I was prepared to have you call at any moment and tell me that I should have minded my own business and that you never wanted to speak to me again."

"No," Shay shook her head, "I wouldn't have done that. In fact, on Sunday night I called my grandmother and told her everything. She said that little Marrell Walker was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"She's probably still picturing me in grade school."

"Probably, but she's still right, Marrell. I needed someone from outside to tell me to get my act together. My assistant was jubilant when Dante left. She asked me if we'd seen the last of him. It was good to be able to tell her yes."

"I'm so glad, Shay. I hate to see you hurting."

"Well, I do hurt, but I still know I did the right thing."

The women fell silent for a moment, and it wasn't long before Paul joined them. He fixed his own coffee and sat next to Marrell on the sofa.

"I'm impressed," Shay teased him, as she'd been doing to all of them the whole evening.

"With what?"

"That you get your own coffee. My friend Marrell is the most liberated woman I've ever known."

Paul laughed but wasn't going to rise to the bait.

"Did she tell you I offered her a job?"

"Yes. She also told me that she informed you she already had one."

Shay shook her head. "I didn't think there were any couples like you left on the planet."

The Bishops only stared at her, causing her arms to go up in frustration.

"Come on, you guys! You know what I mean. Paul goes to work, and Marrell happily keeps house at a time when women are burning their bras and telling men off. I just don't get it."

Marrell could have told her friend that that was the very reason she was divorced. Shay Elliot didn't understand how love could change a person, but telling her would have been too cruel.

"I think you have a wrong impression of us, Shay," Paul surprised Marrell by saying. "I don't own my wife. She has her own life. I do come home expecting dinner, but if for some reason nothing's made, I don't go into a rage. I work hard to support

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Marrell and the girls, but I don't expect them to fall at my feet in gratitude every time they see me.

"I didn't tell Marrell that she couldn't work for you, but we both happen to think that our daughters are very important, and if we can make it on my salary, then we at least want one of us to be here with them."

Shay looked at Marrell, her face surprised. "I guess he told me."

"It's true, Shay. We do like things the way they are. That's not to say that the girls never drive me crazy, but don't forget, I didn't grow up with a mother. My grandmother was wonderful, but I want more for Micki and D.J. than I had."

Shay sighed. "Well, you've found something that few people do."

"What's that?"

"True happiness. I envy both of you."

"You'll have it too, Shay," Marrell said kindly. "I know you will."

Shay nodded. Paul was still sitting there, but it was as if the women had forgotten him. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I've scheduled an appointment with another therapist."

"Oh, Shay."

"This one's a woman," Shay swiftly put in, "and comes highly recommended."

Marrell's head dipped to one side. "What do you hope she'll tell you?"

The other woman shrugged. "I don't know. Often I feel so empty inside, and I just wish I knew why."

Marrell wouldn't have admitted it for anything, but she often felt the same way.

"Well, if she doesn't help you," Marrell suggested quietly, "don't prolong it. I think some of these counselors have more problems than their patients."

"I've met a few that have, but I'll tell you, Marrell, there's something very special about getting to talk about yourself for a whole hour every week. You don't have to compete with anyone or listen to their problems, and most of the time, I feel very good when I leave."

Marrell nodded, but inside she thought it sounded extremely self-centered. Paul changed the subject and rescued Marrell from having to reply. She refilled everyone's coffee, and the three

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talked of general things until almost eleven o'clock. When Shay left, they made plans for her to come again the next week.

Shay was all the way to the car before she gave in to her tears.
Why,
she asked herself all the way home,
can't I have a happy life like theirs? What's wrong with me that I'm always on the outside looking in?
No answers came to Shay's tortured mind, and she drove home in a fit of despondency.