Back to Life (9 page)

My eyes feel as watery as the two eggs set before me. I have placed so much in the belief that I could make things better for Ronnie if I only waited the situation out. But darn that girl, she’s given me the speck of doubt that keeps the fear alive in my belly.

“What reason do I have to lie to you, Jane?” She asks as she slathers organic butter over the syrup. “I’m a washed-up trophy wife whose husband is dead. I don’t exactly have a well-laid-out future. What threat do I represent, exactly?”

“I’ve left my previous life behind too when I moved to Mexico. That’s what happens when life changes, you move on. Considering
Jake’s appearance, I would think you could understand the desire to do that.”

“I understand it. I’m only saying it won’t happen and neither will anything with Jake. That chapter is closed. But this thing with your son will haunt you until you come clean.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I tell her as I stab at my eggs with my fork. “Why do you suddenly care about my sordid past?”

“I didn’t, until I met Ron Jr. It just seems wrong to lie to him. Doesn’t that get to you?”

“He’s my son. What do you think?”

She shrugs as she shoves more food into her mouth and talks around the pancakes. “My mother lied to me. I guess the whole scenario hits too close to home.”

“Moms do strange things for their children, and it may not make sense to you at the time, but later…when you’re grown and gone.”

“It still makes no sense to me.”

I find myself getting tired of being questioned. “You got what you married for. What do you care what happens to the rest of the money? You didn’t love him, and it’s not a bad take for ten years of labor, is it?”

This isn’t like me, and I hate the barrage of words coming out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, Lindsay.”

She throws her water bottle back like a tequila shot and wags her finger at me. “No, that’s all right, but for the record, I never said that.”

“Said what?”

“I said I didn’t
marry
for love. That doesn’t mean I didn’t come to love and appreciate whom I did marry. Ron and I had a great relationship in the end. Give me a little credit. I made the best of my situation. Some people who marry for love can’t even say that.”

“Who was Jake, then? Maybe you’ll feel better spilling
your
secrets. Maybe it’s not me you’re concerned about at all. You don’t expect me to believe you forsook Jake for Ron and stayed true.” I laugh, but Lindsay doesn’t and maybe it isn’t obvious with so many men who want to be actors around here. But Ron is George Costanza next to Jake’s Brad Pitt. “He looked like a movie star and seemed to know a great deal about you. So now what? You’ll go to church and confess your sins and be free and clear and set for life after just a decade with Ron Brindle? Not a terribly steep price to pay for having it all.”

Lindsay turns crimson and her expression puckers into an unflattering, bloated manner. “Is that what you think, Jane? That I’m happy Ron is gone? Chances are you didn’t marry for love, either, or Ron Jr. would be named after his real father, whoever that is.”

Below the belt.
“I’ll stay in a hotel when I return.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, Jane.”

“No, I attacked first. That was fair.” I take a bite of dry toast, and it scrapes my throat as I swallow.

Lindsay looks down at her plate and swishes the pancakes around in the syrup. She taps the fork, drops it and looks at me. “Money doesn’t solve anything, you know. That was the thing I never understood until I had it. Sure, it makes some things easier, and it helps you to numb pain or hide your fears behind the stuff, but you never stop craving what you really want.”

“More coffee?”

The waitress interrupts our conversation, and I stare over at Lindsay’s beautiful face, wan from her troubles and pain. I wonder what anyone could have done to that girl to make her marry a man twenty years older. It’s not like Ron looked young for his age. I shake my head to the waitress.

“What is it you really want, Lindsay?”

“I want to be a good person, not the bad kid my mother thought I was. I want to be good. I mean, I know I’m saved and all that, but I want my mother to see the goodness, and I don’t think she ever will. She hasn’t spoken to me since I married Ron.”

Personally, I thought all religious sorts saw themselves as good. The reality may have been different, but that never seemed to change their views. I’m shocked to hear Lindsay admit such a thing, and against my better judgment, I find myself feeling for the girl again.

“Sometimes, people—even mothers—are critical because they don’t know any other way to be.”

“You’re telling me I should have some mercy on my mother?”

“I have no idea, but my guess is that she only wanted the best for you, even if she went about it the wrong way. You seem to judge how I chose things for Ronnie pretty harshly.” I drop my fork and lean in toward Lindsay. “I’m only saying, it’s easy to think one thing without knowing all the facts. Maybe you should find out the facts.”

“My mother doesn’t like me. Those are the facts.”

I shrug. “Maybe she doesn’t. Having a baby doesn’t make everyone a good mother, but wouldn’t you rather know before she’s dead and gone? Wouldn’t you rather believe the best of her?”

“She hasn’t spoken to me in ten years!”

“That only tells me she’s headstrong, and I could have told you that by looking at her daughter.”

A man walks by and practically hurts himself staring at Lindsay. Honestly, there are at least ten women in here who are nearly identical to Lindsay, but there’s a warmth in her that charms in a way I find terribly disconcerting with a son her age. What’s most upsetting is that it’s not her looks, it’s the invisible aspect that seems to mesmerize people, mostly men. There is no way to describe that, much less protect one’s son from it.

“What’s that like?” I ask her.

“What’s what like?”

“Being stared at all the time.”

“I’m not stared at all the time.”

“Lindsay, you are. There’s one man in this restaurant and at least twenty-five blondes, and he tripped over that chair right there to stare at you!”

“You’re imagining things, Jane.” She shoves another bite of pancakes into her mouth so that it looks like she has a giant gumball in her left cheek. She swallows. “Did you love Ron?”

“Lindsay, it’s such a convoluted tale, you wouldn’t believe you if I told you. I loved Ron like a brother. He tried to do the right thing, but I was too young and too vindictive to appreciate any of it. It’s a terrible thing, how when you finally understand life, you look like this.” I open my arms and look down.

“Will you ever tell Ronnie who his real father is?”

That’s a very good question, and I suppose the answer is, not if I don’t have to. “I’m not sure. Will you tell that young man who was over the other night you’re not over him? I saw the way you looked when he left.”

“I am over him!” she protests. “Honestly, I am.” The way she says it, with all the conviction in the world, I have no choice but to believe her, which makes my heart pound because the last thing my son needs is Lindsay’s heart being available. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid, but I’ve never seen that look in my son’s eye. It’s bad enough he chose to live here in Los Angeles, but if he and Lindsay do any research whatsoever, my secret is out. And with it will go all the respect my son ever had for me.

“I guess you are over him at that.”

Lindsay pushes her plate away. “I don’t think you should go to Mexico.”

“So you’ve said. Why on earth would you care if I stayed?” I see her meekness when I ask—the shy little waif who answered the door when I appeared uninvited.

“I simply do. You should stay. You’re free to go, of course. I have no hold over you, but I want you to stay. It’s a feeling. I get them sometimes.”

“A premonition?”

“I don’t know, maybe…no, that sounds too important. Just a feeling. I think we might have something to teach each other.”

“Did you have a feeling when you married Ron?”

She looks down at the table and then back up to me. “Yes,” she says adamantly. “And I ignored it because it was too inconvenient, but I don’t regret my marriage. Marriage taught me a lot about myself, most of it negative.”

“That’s your religion talking. All the guilt and shame. That’s why I never cared for religion.”

“Religion and guilt is what I’m trying to lose. Relationship with Jesus is what I’m trying to attain. I want to be more like Him. I want my mother to be proud of me, and I want to take what Ron gave me and do something in the world.”

For some odd reason, I feel the skin on my arms prickle at her words. “All right. For once, I’m going to try sitting still, and I’ll stay until probate ends,” I tell her. “If only to seize a new experience.”

A peace descends upon me. If I’d fought the current of life less, perhaps my journey down the river would have been easier.

Lindsay

I
’m glad my nosey neighbors don’t speak. What happens here, stays here. Unless the cats start talking—then we’re all in trouble. The Trophy Wives Club meets tonight. I’m in dire need of companionship, and if I have to force my way in, I will do so.

I hardly feel like explaining my odd group to Jane. She thinks I’m shallow enough as it is. I tell her the name of my Bible study, and I can hear her laughter now. We take our name from the Bible verse in Philippians. “I press toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” We are wives of Jesus, our eyes on the greatest Trophy of them all—a life well lived for the Lord. I race my BMW to the church, as though I’m making some sort of getaway like Bonnie and Clyde. Without the Clyde.

We used to meet on Tuesday nights, but all of the groups did, and since we’re the redheaded stepchild of the church, we made an
executive decision to meet on a quieter evening. When we could come and go, like the sinners we are. (Yes, it’s true that everyone else should be right there with us, but they’re not aware of that fact, apparently.) Besides, it’s always easier to look at someone else’s sin as bigger than your own, and we simply got tired of being the other side of the scale. Let them all compare themselves to the middle school group from here on out.

No one is in the room when I arrive. Too eager, once again. Eager to run from the live ghost who now haunts my halls, eager to see Bette, my mentor, and have her remind me to leave the past in the past.
Leave well enough alone
, she’ll say.
We’re on a forward journey. What good is it to dwell on the past?
Although I can repeat everything she’ll probably tell me, I crave reassurance—hearing the words in her whispery, honeyed voice. I suppose I need to purge myself of the guilt, once and for all.

I keep replaying Jake’s common nod toward me in the coffee shop, then his coming to my house with a check and a good-bye peck on the forehead. It’s closure and I wanted closure, but I won’t feel free of it until I admit the whole sordid tale to someone. Bette will listen and remind me the redemption I crave is already mine. She’s the Miss Manners of First Community’s Trophy Wives Club. Still not quite sure that there’s an etiquette reference to dumping true love for money, but one never knows. I can’t believe how easily those old feelings are stirred, like the mud at the bottom of a once-clear river.

You only think the past goes away, but it takes nothing at all to surface again. “Lindsay?” Bette comes in and turns on the light. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Was I? The sun must have gone down some more since I sat down.”

She looks at her watch. “The sun has been down for a good hour, at least.”

“I’m going to start a ministry with the after-school program Ron used to support,” I say, out of the blue. “I’m going to help the mothers with some of the financial decisions they make and see if their lives can’t be slightly easier. I’ve been sitting here thinking about it.”

“That’s a very noble cause, Lindsay. It’s good to hear you thinking of your future. What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about what’s next for a while, but I had an old boyfriend visit, and I suppose that’s what made me start taking action. You have to accept when life has changed, don’t you?”

“An old boyfriend? Is this something that has a future associated with it?”

“What? Oh no, nothing like that. Believe me, Ron was by far the best choice. Then and even now, looking back on my life with him.”

“That’s good, because there was a young man in here on Sunday looking for you. His name was Tim. Do you know him?”

Chinless Bond. “I met him at the singles’ group.”

“See! I told you that it was time to move on.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bette, do you think if you did something really bad in your past, it’s possible to truly get over the incident? If it hurt someone else more than you?”

Her eyes crinkle with a knowing smile. “Well, I suppose that depends. Is it something that is still having consequences?”

“I’m not certain. Do you think I’ve wasted my life, Bette? I mean, Haley has become this agent assistant her boss can’t live without. Lily practically runs the world. Penny is raising up those darling boys. Helena could tell you what Cleopatra wore at her death. But
I’ve decorated a condo and married a rich man. It’s not much to show for a life, is it?”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. I agree that it’s time to do something different. You’re far too talented, and Ron loved to see you doing what you do best. You have a heart for women, and why shouldn’t other people benefit from your gifts? Where would Haley be, if it weren’t for you helping her get her life back on track, let alone the help you’re providing for her wedding?”

“Oh, that’s easy. She’d be asking Christina Aguilera for sequin advice. And I haven’t done that much. Not really.”

Bette laughs. “That girl sure knows how to enjoy life. We’ve all learned a great deal from her, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know where I’d be without Haley. But anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard my news by now. Ron’s ex-wife is at the house. She’s an artist. She’s probably sixty, and it made me think I have a long way to go until I’m sixty.”

“Heavens!” Bette gasps. “That old? It’s amazing she manages to get out of bed each morning.” She gives me just a hint of a smile.

“Bette, you know I don’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course I do. That can’t be easy to see Ron’s first wife at such a difficult time. We’re almost upon a year now, aren’t we?”

I nod. “Just past it, actually.” My phone starts to buzz, and I look down to see a text message coming through.

MISSED U @ SINGLES. DINNER?—TIM

“Bette, did you give Tim my cell phone number?” I turn off my cell.

“Heavens, did I?” Her eyebrows arch. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” she points to my handbag where I’ve plopped my cell.

“Bette, you have lived your entire widowhood alone. Why on earth do you think romance is the answer for me?”

“Don’t accuse just me. We all think romance is the answer for
you. So what’s this big, dark secret? Spill it, so we can start setting up blind dates for you.” I look into her eyes. Eyes that only shine brighter, now that her skin tone has faded with the years. She’s one of those women who will always have the beauty of her youth, because it comes from within.

I trust these women with my life, no question. But with blind dates? Only a disaster can ensue. “Six months. Just give me six more months, and I’ll start dating, all right? And please, don’t encourage Tim. Our babies wouldn’t have a chin.”

“Oh, babies!” she claps her hands together. “Any plastic surgeon can insert a chin.” She laughs at my apprehension. “I’m kidding, Lindsay. That’s fine; I will call Tim off. When does Ron’s first wife leave?”

“I’m not sure. It could be awhile.” I glance at Bette. “She’s got a son my age, and I think she’s worried about him around me, so it may be sooner than probate is up.”

“You’re a beautiful, sweet woman. What would she worry about? If my son chose a beauty like you, I’d be looking forward to my beautiful grandchildren.”

“You always know what to say to make me feel better, but seriously, those are probably not Jane’s first thoughts of me. So, I made a mistake that I can’t really make amends for, and I thought I’d ask your advice. I almost told Haley, but she’s so joyful right now, I didn’t want to bring her down. So I came to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Haley would never think you were trying to rob her joy. Friends are there for one another. You’re so black-and-white, Lindsay, you just choose to throw the baby out with the bathwater. We’ve all made mistakes—”

I shake my head. “This isn’t like that. I don’t think I’m overemphasizing the fact that I can’t make up for this one. Bette, have you
ever committed a sin that had repercussions on others? But really, you couldn’t see that it harmed you in ways other than your own guilt? Have you ever ridden off into the sunset and left someone else behind to deal with the fire you started?”

“You act as though living with guilt is a small price to pay. Sometimes, it’s the biggest price to pay. Guilt is not from God, conviction is.”

“I’m not sure if I have guilt or conviction. It seems that I got off easy.”

“The others will be here soon, perhaps you can stay late and tell me more.”

Bette unloads her canvas bag of study materials and pens while she speaks, and I have to admit, I’m feeling slightly ignored.
Um, I was talking here! I mean, breakdowns don’t exactly come up when it’s convenient, do they? Where’s all this friend talk now? Hmmm?

“Bette, I need to say this and hear your opinion. It’s important.”

“I’m sure it is, but Lindsay, I want to ask you to take over leadership of the Trophy Wives Club. Not forever, just for the first year while I adjust to being a wife again.”

“Me? Weren’t you just trying to get rid of me—to pawn me off to the singles’ group?”

“Of course not. We’re trying to get you to think about your future. We’re not going to abandon you, Lindsay.”

“Okay, now you’ve done it. Now I have to spill the truth. My conscience is getting the better of me.”

“Lindsay, you’re a natural leader and you love the Lord. You were a good wife to Ron, and you have so much to offer the younger women. I’ve watched you overcome an enormous amount of bitterness, and now you’re starting life again. It’s the perfect time to consider how your life can mentor others.”

The Jezebel School of Mentoring
. I shake my head. “This is not false modesty. Bette, you have no idea.”

“Lindsay, you’re shaking.”

“Let me get this out before you offer me this job. This is important. It might change your mind. I ran into an old acquaintance.” I rethink my words and pray for strength. “That’s a lie of omission. I ran into my old fiancé. First at a coffee shop with Haley, and then he came by my house to give me something that I lent him.”

“You were engaged? Before Ron?”

“Uh-huh. To my high school sweetheart. We were inseparable from the time I was fifteen years old.” Doesn’t that sound so sweet and innocent? And yet, I’m going in for the kill.

“Young love is so powerful.” She sighs, shaking her head from side to side. “We think they’ll never be another for us. We’re so naïve, but that time is so special when—”

“No, Bette, I was anything but naïve. This isn’t that kind of story.” How my life could have been different if I had been! “The first time I saw Jake, I was a freshman in high school, and he was a junior. I thought I’d found my destiny. I know I was young, but that didn’t stop me from thinking like an overeager Jane Austen fan. I think they fed me too much Shakespeare in freshman English. Anyway, I staked out his locker and conveniently got mine relocated next to his. Our first date, we went to see
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
.”

“He must have been quite a young man.”

“His family helped show me what a healthy family—well, perhaps healthier than mine is a better statement—was like. My mother was an angry person in general, resentful for being saddled with a kid when she was young and beautiful. All the men wanted her, she told me. Until they found out she had a child.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Well, now I do, of course, but when you’re sixteen, it can lead you to some rather stupid decisions. I realize she was just a hurting woman and I’ve forgiven my mother many times over. I still want her to be proud of me, but I think the problems may be hers and not mine there. She did the best she could, but she told me that I’d never amount to anything because I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I made it my goal to prove her wrong. You know how obstinate I can be.”

“Yes.” Bette laughs. “I’ve seen a touch of that.”

“Jake’s family took me in as their own. They paid for my graduation gown and my prom dress so that we could go, but it was too late. I was already scheming subconsciously how to prove my mother wrong. After college, when everyone expected us to get married, I got nervous. Jake didn’t have a college education and I did, paid for by the government. He was working in construction, and suddenly, I thought I could do better. I got nervous that if I married poorly, like she did, then she would be right about me. Then, I met Ron.”

“And you fell in love!” She clasps her hands together.

“Wouldn’t that be great? No, I didn’t fall in love. I was in love with Jake. Ron was his boss.”

“I see.” She looks down at her Bible, clearly averse to hearing more. “Let me understand, Lindsay. Are you saying that you purposely dropped Jake for Ron”—she pauses for a moment to clear her throat—“because he had more money?”

My first inclination is to protect myself. “Jake was working on a job building Ron’s Pacific Palisades home. Jake took me there after-hours one evening to show me a special bookcase he’d built with storage behind them in one of the dormers.” The reality of the memory spurs the truth. “He was so proud, and I barely glanced at the bookshelves. I’d never seen such luxury. The kitchen in that home was bigger than my entire house. When I saw the chandelier,
I don’t know, something in me shifted. I saw a way to prove my mother wrong because the person who lived under the light of that chandelier could never be viewed as a nothing.”

“Oh,” Bette murmurs.

It gets worse, but this part I keep to myself. I dressed in black slacks and stiletto heels went to the house looking for Jake…on a day I knew he wasn’t there. I pulled my tiny, chip diamond ring off my finger and shoved into my slacks’ pocket. I rang the doorbell and posed. The rest is history. Ron was easy pickings. He was mourning his wife, who had long-since taken off to a foreign country. For Bette’s genteel ears, I pick up the story after the stiletto part, no sense giving her heart failure before the wedding.

“Ron had just moved from Texas to open another branch of his business—and he was lonely, a new Christian, and convinced that God had sent me to fulfill His plan. I never told him the truth about Jake, not even when we separated for a short time two years ago. We got back together, and I just went back to the facade. No harm, no foul.”