The Woman He Married (44 page)

“Are you
insane
?” Andy started, but then paused when he spied Josie. “Hey, Jocelyn,” he greeted her almost casually before getting back to business. “I have everyone assembling down at headquarters so we need to get moving, contain this before it hits the national news.”

Face white and void of emotion, John turned to look at her. Josie searched his expression for anything that would tell her what she’d just seen was some sort of hallucination.

“Jocelyn, are you all right?” he asked in a weary voice.

“John, we need to get moving,” Andy reiterated.

John gave his brother
a firm look
. “Just give me a minute alone with my wife. I’ll be along.”

Andy unwillingly agreed.
“All right, but just a moment.”
Then, moving past Josie toward the door, he snatched the coffee cup from her limp hand. “Let me just help you with that,” he said, before taking a sip. “Good coffee, thanks. One minute, John, that’s all you get,” he warned, tapping his watch as he slid the door shut.

Josie stammered, “Can she do that? Can she just put our personal lives out there for the whole world to see?” Of course, she knew Trisha could—she just did—but the shock of hearing John’s affair broadcast to all of
Birmingham
seemed too surreal at the moment, and she couldn’t quite wrap her head around it.
But, worse than that.
“Oh my god, the children!
What am I going to tell them? There’s no way to keep this from them now.”

“You’re not going to tell them a thing. This whole mess is my fault; I need to tell them, take responsibility,” he said with a sigh that encompassed his whole body. “Momma’s bringing them home around three. I’ll call her and tell her not to say anything. I’ll be back, talk to them then.”

Andy tapped on the window. John rubbed his tired face. “Jocelyn, I have to go. Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want me to stay?”

Josie was quiet, thinking for a minute while indignation swelled within her. Temporarily in control of her faculties, she said, “No, you do what you have to do. Don’t let that woman take you down, John—not after everything you’ve—we’ve—been through. She is
not
going to be your undoing.”

John’s face warmed with admiration. “That’s my girl,” he said.

Andy hit the window again, this time with his fist. John gave Josie a wistful look before turning and dragging his feet over to the door. One hand on the knob, John turned back to face her. “I’m so sorry, Jocelyn…for everything.”

“Me too,” Josie admitted as she watched him disappear through the door and back out to the guesthouse. Unable to clearly define what she was feeling at the moment, Josie knew one thing for sure—for the first time since she’d married him, she felt like she and John were on the same side.

* * * *

The congregation at the
First
Baptist
Church
sang “Face to Face”
soberly, muffling the creak of Josie’s loafers as she made her way up the center aisle to what looked like the last empty seat in the sanctuary. Tugging at her baby blue cable-knit cardigan, Josie smoothed her tan and brown plaid skirt, avoiding eye contact while taking her seat on the red velvet pew. After John and Andy had left, Josie found
herself
desperate to avoid answering the plethora of calls coming in from family and friends, and decided the best place for her to hide would be in church—no one would think to look for her there.

But as she settled into her seat she could sense the intrigue in her fellow churchgoers, imagine them glancing conspiratorially at one another, then to her, and then back at each other again. She knew they couldn’t possibly have all seen the news this morning, but it only took one God-fearing Christian “in the know” to spread juicy gossip such as John’s with such great efficiency.

What Josie needed was a way to protect the kids.
Maybe a witness protection program?
No, a scandal protection program.
With the abundance of allegations heaved against football coaches, politicians, and clergy, a state like
Alabama
surely had a need for an agency devoted to protecting the innocent family members. The Scandal Protection Agency, or SPA, it would be called. Josie envisioned green lawns with mature oaks and white sparkling buildings where families could hunker down, attend group therapy, and relax until the storm of controversy blew over.

Her cell vibrated in her purse. She edged the phone out just enough to see another text from Brian. He’d been trying to contact her all morning and leaving insistent messages that she get back to him. Against her better judgment, she desperately wanted to see him, feel his arms engulf her, and allow the strength of his body to reassure her that this too would pass. She didn’t need scandal protection—she needed Brian.
Haven’t I always felt safe with him, reassured?
She knew all she had to do was ask and he’d take her and the children away. The kids would never have to know what their father had done.

Josie thought about all the exciting places she and Brian could take them and the experiences they could have.
What
are they missing by living their whole lives in
Alabama
, and like their father and most of their classmates, never going much further than the Gulf coast or
Atlanta
,
Georgia
?
John
let
me
go last night, but would he be so willing to say goodbye to his children?
Eleven years ago he’d married her out of convenience, stayed married to her through a sense of honor, duty. Josie put her hand to her abdomen, remembering that her circumstances were more complicated than she wanted to admit. She decided she couldn’t contact Brian just yet, and returned the cell to her purse.

When the hymn ended, Reverend Hayes took his dictatorial position behind the pulpit high above the congregation. The sun shining through the stained glass cross built into the forward wall behind him angelically outlined his hair and the whiteness of his robe. Preaching about the hardships of life, the reverend quoted Bernard Baruch: “
‘The
art of living lies less in eliminating conflicts than growing with them.’”

Damn,
Josie thought, realizing what he’d said negated her scandal protection idea. But then she had children to protect. How could this possibly be a growing experience for them? Surely their situation would be an exception. Assuming a comforting mode of avoidance—too much personal growth at one time could be dangerous—Josie decided to tune out the rest of his sermon until the reverend quoted a scripture in Ecclesiastes 3:1.

Snatching the Bible from the wooded pocket on the pew in front of her, Josie flipped through the pages, searching for the passage. With no table of contents, Josie cursed her four years of college, three years of law school, and passage of the Alabama State Bar for not preparing her to find a simple scripture in the Bible. Obviously a “real” Christian would know where to find it. When she refused to give up, amazingly the pages finally opened to the right place, and Josie read…

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

She read the passage a few times, trying to fully capture its meaning. Thinking back over her thirty-something years of living, she identified the “seasons” of her own life. The years with Brian, and their carefree lifestyle of school and travel, free to take chances without worrying about tomorrow. With no children of his own, what season of life was Brian in? He seemed to want her back, but would he be willing to embrace the restrictions of being with a woman who had three, maybe four, children?

Then, marriage and motherhood, feeling stifled, depressed, and insignificant. With each season having a purpose, what should she be focused on now? She’d finally broken free to pursue her dreams, but what dreams was she pursuing?
The dreams of a season now past?
Now that she was a wife and mother, was she making a mistake by trying to reclaim her lost dreams, to pick up where she’d left off? Maybe she should have been—
wanted
 
to
be—focused solely on raising her children.

Overwhelmed by her predicament, Josie had nowhere else to turn for answers. If there were a God, now would be a good time for him to reveal himself, and she humbly closed her eyes to pray. Holding her eyes closed tight, she pled,
then
waited. She felt nothing, but she persisted. As she did,
a warmth
she’d never before felt engulfed her soul from the inside out. The feeling grew as the choir sang the closing hymn. She’d received her answer. Josie slowly opened her eyes, now knowing she couldn’t rely on an “agency” or Brian to save her. But she would have to draw upon her own strength to figure this one out. And she took comfort in knowing that, from now on, she wouldn’t be alone.

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling,
It’s
just you and me now, Lord. Don’t let me down.

* * * *

Local restaurants braced themselves for the influx of hungry churchgoers as Josie remained in her seat waiting while the rest of the congregation filed toward the back of the sanctuary.

“Josie, how are you holding up?” asked an empathetic voice with an uncanny resemblance to that of Lori Watson.

Josie sprang to her feet. “I’m well, fine,” she said, taken aback. Lori’s eyes were strangely warm, compassionate.

She spoke softly. “These things are never easy, especially once everyone knows,” she continued, her dark eyes watching Josie’s with all the pain of a woman who knew how it felt to be publicly betrayed by her husband. “Thankfully, the pain subsides with time. The trust, well, that’s another matter.”

Lori talked as if Josie should know about her personal life when the truth was, she didn’t pay much attention to gossip. Josie looked over at Lori’s husband. Balding now, his mid-section expanding considerably in true Southern fashion, he joked with one hand on Reverend Hayes’ shoulder.

Josie was completely baffled. “I’m sorry, Lori, I really had no idea.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for bringing my daughter home the other night.
And, for not telling anyone.”
Smiling, Lori wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’re a good person, Josie, and I’ve treated you unfairly all these years. We…I’d be honored to have you back at the school as a volunteer any time you’re ready.”

* * * *

Leaning a shoulder against the front dining room wall, Josie stood next to the window with her arms crossed. Out front, another network news van from a local station parked across the street, joining the others awaiting some sort of newsworthy event they could record and then broadcast to their bloodthirsty viewers.

“I can’t believe the nerve of that woman, spouting lies ’bout my John,” Gloria ranted while pacing around the table.

Of course John’s mother was in denial about his infidelity. Unfortunately, denial wasn’t her most obvious character flaw. Like many Southern women, she suffered from generations of repressed assertiveness along with the belief that
all
women were inherently evil. For her, outward appearances were all that counted. In other words, it was ludicrous to think a woman could possibly be nice on the inside too.

“What makes you think Trisha’s lying?” Josie asked, challenging her mother-in-law’s denial indifferently while keeping an eye on the cameras and reporters out front.

“Of course she’s lying. My John would never do such a thing to his family!”

“And I suppose you think Andy wouldn’t either?” Josie’s words dripped with sarcasm as she thought about Andy’s secret love nest.

“What are you insinuating?” Gloria snapped. “If it
is
true, John never would have done such a thing unless you drove him to it!”

“Momma, that’s enough.” John’s authoritative voice startled them both. “Jocelyn’s not responsible for my indiscretions.”

“That’s because it’s all just
hateful
 
lies
!”

“
Momma,
would you just…” Sighing, John gave up quickly and turned his attention to Josie. “Where are the kids?”

Josie’s palms started to sweat—the moment she’d been dreading since this morning had finally come. “Family room,” she said.