The Mistress (5 page)

There was something almost therapeutic about cooking. She missed cooking at home. It wasn’t the same experience as preparing dinner at work. It was much better. Not only could she have creative freedom, but she was also cooking for her husband rather than someone else. There was almost a sense of pride that washed over her every time she made a meal for her husband. It was as if she was providing for him, nourishing him. His body. His soul.

After she had fully prepared the meal, she packed up two servings in to-go containers and packed them nicely in a tote bag. She then grabbed cookies from the jar and wrapped them in plastic wrap so that they could have a quick dessert after their meal.

Loading up the tote full of food, she drove to Jared’s mother’s house. She knew that’s where he would be. After Jared’s many separations with his wife, that was usually where he ended up.

Pulling into the drive, she noticed something strange. No Jared. No Daniel. Their cars weren’t there. She pulled out of the driveway and called Daniel’s cell. No answer. “Where could they be?” she mumbled to herself. She remembered the worry that washed over her. She frantically called Jared, her mind focusing on the worst case scenario. “Uh – hello?” he asked, seemingly confused. Jared was Daniel’s friend, and she never called, but confusion wasn’t an emotion that she expected considering Daniel was with him.

“Can I speak to Daniel?” she asked hastily, just wanting to hear his voice.

“Uh...” he hesitated.

“He said he’s with you?” she found the need to clarify.

“Oh, yeah he is,” he stammered, “he’s just in the bathroom. He’s hanging out with me and Julie tonight.” he announced, surely proud of himself.

Julie. His wife. Jared’s estranged wife. Then it hit her: it was a lie – a boldfaced lie.

Not only, though, did Jared lie to her – but Daniel had lied to her. Daniel. Her perfect husband – in the matter of one split second – had become her imperfect husband, her lying husband, her lying
bastard
of a husband.

“Oh, yeah, I know. Silly me. I found what I was looking for. No need to get him! You all have a great night!” She recovered, trying to keep from losing her composure. It was falling fast, but she managed to pull it off without suspicion and they hung up soon after.

She held in the crying the best she could; she was focused on something a little more pressing: finding the truth. She didn’t care what the truth would bring, she just wanted it. Her faith in Daniel was fading fast, but even after having proof that he lied to her, there was still some part of her still held onto the trust.

She turned her car back around and set her destination to home, ready to seek him out, but scared of the discoveries that awaited her. It was a lonesome and emotionally draining car ride. She knew when she saw him that she would have to question him. Lying was one thing she did not tolerate, and he had clearly done so. Not only had he lied – but it was with great ease, too! She could tell how easy it was because of his wonderful acting abilities. There was no hint of guilt anywhere in his tone, and she had to wonder how many times he had lied before.

~~~

A
fter the series of events that occurred when she finally confronted Daniel that night, she was lost. When she had arrived home – he wasn’t there. So she waited; boy, did she wait. She was waiting for the truth, and now that she had heard it, it was as if a whirlwind brick had hit her square in the face. The words that came from his mouth and the demeanor in which he held himself seemed so foreign to her, and they hurt with an intensive blow that would surely leave her bruised and battered.

She had been – completely and utterly – blindsided. She didn’t know where to go, or who to go to with this. She hadn’t thought of anything. She went on pure instinct and went to the place where she felt the most love and acceptance. The Lancers’. Pulling into the cul-de-sac drive, she didn’t even think about what she was going to say. It was late, and she had left hours ago. What was her excuse to be there?

She knocked, and there he was. Preston. She immediately let the tears flow as if they were a roaring river without a dam. She broke down, and fell before him. “Haley!” he called, pulling her up to a standing position. “What happened?” She heard the worry in his voice, and she trembled in pain. He cared more than her husband. A man that employed her cared more for her wellbeing than her husband. Her husband.

She remembered feeling safe in his embrace. He led her to the couch. She didn’t realize how much she had leaned against him on their journey to the living room until he had sat down and her body nearly collapsed on top of him with force. It was as if she were leaning against a boulder that had slightly budged. Her body fell against his, and normally this would have been slightly compromising, but she hadn’t thought of it – not even in the slightest.

She merely shook against him and sobbed into the crook of his neck. He didn’t pressure her, nor did he ask her to explain. He merely held her, and let her cry for as long as she would. She didn’t remember how he got her to talk; all she knew was that after sobbing into his shoulder for God knows how long, her words spewed like a shaken carbonated beverage. It was out – messy in all its glory. It was in the open, and she trusted him with it.

“Move in. I’ll talk to Marissa about it tomorrow. She loves you – the kids love you. Just move in. Get out of that house –” he began, but she quickly interrupted him by merely holding her hand up. “Just go to sleep. We will talk about all of this tomorrow, ok?” he finished, signaling for her to lie down on the couch. His hand lightly caressed her shoulder as he stood up to let her stretch out completely.

She felt his warmth ease away from her and undeniably and immediately missed the comfort that it caused her. “I’m getting you some blankets. I’ll be right back,” he said over his shoulder as if to reassure her as he walked, lightly, across the hardwood floors.

His body faded as he stepped farther away from the living room’s extravagant chandelier. She noticed for the first time how much light it actually put off. It was the only light on in the house that night, and it had completely brightened both the living room and foyer. Its light even reached part of the foyer’s stairs leading up to the second story. Despite that though, he nearly completely disappeared after he crossed the threshold on the opposite end of the large living room. The hallway.

She knew where he was headed. She folded the laundry every day and frequented that very spot often. He was heading towards the linen closet. It was just the first door on the left once you crossed into the hallway from the living room. But in this gigantic house, it seemed to be just far enough to be out of sight of the chandelier’s glow. His steps quieted and slowed as he reached the pitch black hallway, though not from fear of the enveloping darkness, but for fear of the noise. She smiled at how much she knew about the house.

See, the floor creaked slightly there, and their bedroom, which was located just one door down from the linen closet, was in perfect earshot. It was an annoyance that constantly hindered them, but apparently not enough for them to ever have it fixed. She always wondered why. They had the money, after all. It’d seem like a constant nuisance to hear the creak of wooden planks as someone’s foot stepped over them. This was especially true if you were trying to sleep when others were awake. And this happened daily. Marissa always went to sleep before the rest of the family. She was always the first to sleep and the first to rise, as she was always up at 3 a.m. to go to the shop so that she was ready for the breakfast rush at the bakery. She always advertised fresh pastries, and she meant it.

He tiptoed back into the living room, several blankets in tow. “I didn’t know which fabric you liked to sleep with, so I brought a little of everything,” he whispered, smiling. His tone was so soft. She had never seen that side of him. Preston was very intimidating upon first meeting him. In fact, she was a nervous wreck when the couple interviewed her. It wasn’t as though it was a formal interview – just a coffee shop meeting, but he emanated a ferocious, yet somewhat endearing, aura. The care that dripped from his tongue was something she hadn’t expected, but she had to admit she really enjoyed it. She now knew – after all these years – he really did have a great soul.

Now it wasn’t as though Preston was ever a mean man. He just never particularly advertised his kindness, and she was so impressed by the production he was displaying at that moment that her mouth seemed to get ahead of itself. “You’re actually kind...” she blurted in a very hushed and mesmerized tone. She knew that her eyes likely held a glistening affection. It wasn’t a romantic affection. It was purely just gratefulness, and a great appreciation for her fellow man actually displaying kindness with no hidden agenda.

He laughed loudly, obviously caught off guard, and tossed the blankets at her playfully. He realized how loud he had gotten when he heard his wife’s movements. “Preston?” Marissa asked in a loud whisper, as she called from the hallway. Her footsteps were nearing. “Haley?” she questioned as she reached the living room’s threshold. She squinted, clearly struggling, as her eyes tried to adjust to the light.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s just let her get some sleep,” he said sternly yet softly. He gestured for her to lie back down, and allowed her to sort through the blankets of her own accord. “We’ll leave you to it,” he said with finality, as he tore his gaze from her and set his sights towards the hallway and walked to his wife.

She heard Marissa ask what was wrong as he looped his arms around her shoulders and led her to their bedroom. She smiled. She heard the worry in her tone, and she knew that she really had found a family here. Her mind was set: she was going to move in and leave her past behind her. Despite her night, she was smiling. That meant something to her. It warmed her heart to know that she was truly welcomed – and for the first time she felt a void start to fill.

H
er mind was jumping everywhere. She had to stop. She had to focus at the current moment, and in that moment she was supposed to be working. She couldn’t reminisce any further, and she couldn’t try to take back what had already happened. She had to move forward, and move forward she did. She powered – beeline fashion – and almost angrily through the kitchen and into the mudroom.

She grabbed the laundry basket and began sifting through the garments that lay inside, separating them as she went. She enjoyed laundry. It was systematic, always the same. It never changed. The garments may have differed slightly. Every now and then, a new article of clothing may be added to the pile, and some clothing was eventually surrendered. But no matter what, there was always the machine washables and the hand washables. There were always the colors, the whites, and the delicates. It was the same. Always. It never changed. That’s how she liked it. Routine. Normal. No surprises.

Frustrated, she chucked an armful of whites into the washing machine and cranked it to a hot temperature. She heard movement from within the kitchen, and almost screamed in annoyance. He was still here. She hated that he was off today, and she hated that she actually had to stay and work after what just happened. What she hated more, though, was that she was angry at him when in reality she had no business being angry at anyone except herself.

She let this happen. Twice. Fucking twice. Strands of brown hair had fallen into her reddened face, blocking her vision as she glared angrily at the doorway leading to the kitchen. Exhaling a large puff of breath, she blew the strands away and stormed towards the door. “What the FUCK do you want, Preston?” she screamed, rounding the corner.

Immediately her foot went directly into her mouth, because standing before her was not the tall and muscular man, but the much shorter slender boy she had cared for all these years. He dropped his sandwich to the floor, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. He was frozen, unable to formulate coherent words. She knew his confusion was real, and his mind was likely reeling.

“What the hell are you doing here, Lucas?” she asked, outraged that he had obviously skipped school. She had to focus on that. It was her duty to protect him and do what was best for him. She had to at least stand by that principle. She had to ignore what had just left her mouth, or bother with answering his likely questions regarding his father and her.

“I could ask you the same thing...” he muttered, obviously annoyed, before bending to pick up his sandwich. It only had a single bite taken out of it, and she laughed when he looked at it with concerned fortitude. He shrugged and took another bite.

“I work here,” she stated matter-of-factly, before she walked to him and grabbed the sandwich away. “Answer the question: why are you here?” she repeated, sternly.

“I needed to get the hell out of school,” he announced, a tinge of sadness coating his voice. Lucas had never liked school, but the past year was seemingly becoming more difficult. She didn’t know whether or not he was having issues with other students, or if it was just the simple fact that he was an angsty teenager now, but something was going on.

“Language...” She felt the need to say it, even though she could tell he was in pain. She grabbed his hand and led him through to the living room. “What is going on?” she asked, her worry etched all over her face, as she pulled him gently to the couch. He collapsed against her with a dramatic enthusiasm. She smiled. At least he was beginning to be playful again.

“What in the world are you doing home?” she heard a sharp masculine voice call from behind them. Her head snapped up, and she turned around towards the foyer to see where the voice had come from. Preston, of course. Of course it was Preston, and of course he would come now – it the most fucking convenient time for him to do so; just when two people were trying to have a conversation and get to the bottom of an issue, here he was preventing the resolution of it.

He must have still been upstairs. She couldn’t believe that she had forgotten he was home. Seeing Lucas made her forget her indiscretions and merely focus on the problem at hand. He was good at taking up her thoughts – she worried about him constantly, and she loved him more than she could have imagined ever loving someone else’s child.