Contingency (Covenant of Trust) (28 page)

The restaurant’s big screen televisions playing basketball and hockey ruled out any substantive conversation. Before Bobbi could escape to her car, Chuck caught up with her in the parking lot. “Can I take you for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Bobbi looked at him and checked her watch, then glanced over toward the car and her sons. There wasn’t a believable excuse on earth she could give him.

Chuck followed her back to the house and waited while she got Brad and Joel safely inside. As she locked the front door, he got out and opened the passenger door for her. She slipped around him without a word, got in the car, and pulled her door closed.

Three blocks from the house, Chuck broke the silence. “You haven’t said anything bad about my car yet.” He smiled, trying to see her face and still watch the road.

“Those days are gone, Chuck, when your car was the biggest dispute between us.”

At Dear Joe, Chuck held the door for his wife, then every muscle tensed when the guy behind the counter looked up and smiled at Bobbi.

“She’s my best customer. I try to take care of her.” He set a cup on the counter in front of Bobbi. “That’s the Moroccan you liked so well. My treat. Now, what can I get you?” He waited for Chuck to answer his challenge.

The menu board made less sense to Chuck than the Spanish owner’s manual for his cell phone, but he couldn’t let Coffee Boy know that. “Turkish,” he said, and enjoyed the hint of surprise on the guy’s face. Turkish was the only kind of coffee he could remember Bobbi drinking.

He scanned the menu board.
Minnie ... Molly ... What?
Sizes, gotcha.
There was no way Chuck was ordering a girl size. “Uh, Bill.”

The corners of the coffee guy’s mouth turned up as he poured the cup then snapped the lid on. “That’ll be three-twenty-five.”

Chuck laid a ten dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll buy my wife’s coffee, thank you.” He gulped from his cup without taking his eyes off Clay Bartel. The coffee, thick and bitter, caught in his throat, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from coughing and spitting. “You ... you keep the change.”

They had Dear Joe to themselves, so Chuck led Bobbi to a booth in the corner and took the seat facing the counter. “Is that guy always like that?”

“Clay? Like what?” She glanced back toward the counter and Chuck bristled.

“All hitting on you,” he said.

“Hitting? Please. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me.” She nodded her head toward Chuck’s cup. “And I can finish that if you need me to.”

“I’ve given you the time and space to sort all this out. Rita needs to back off and give you that same space.” He took a long slow breath. “When we got married, nobody could make that decision for you. It was yours and yours alone. This has to be the same way.”

“So, I can’t talk to anybody else?”

“I didn’t say that. I want you to make your own decision, from your own heart, and not base it on what you think someone else wants you to do.”

She sipped her coffee in silence. “What if that decision isn’t what you want to hear?”

“If it’s what
you
want, I can live with it.”

She frowned, and rolled her eyes at him.

“Okay, I’ll prove it to you,” he said. “You tell me what
you
want me to do for Thanksgiving. Go or not. Your decision.”

She looked him in the eye and her voice never wavered. “I don’t want you to go.”

“All right then. That’s settled. I’m not going.” Bobbi chose Rita. How much longer before she took her sister’s advice and divorced him? Then Coffee Boy could swoop in ...

He drove Bobbi home, knowing if he said anything right now, it would be the wrong thing, and would only make matters worse.

When they got back to the house, Bobbi didn’t even give him a chance to turn off the car. “I can let myself in,” she said, without looking at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You’re okay with Thanksgiving?”

Would she change her mind if I said ‘no’?
“I’ll be fine.”

Bobbi nodded and got out of the car. He watched her walk in the house and close the front door, then he slammed his hands against on the steering wheel. “This is two against one, God.” Tears of frustration left dark dots on his slacks. “I can’t win this.”

*******

Wednesday, November 23

Chuck answered his
mother’s call before the first ring faded. “I got your message,” she said. “What’s wrong? You sounded agitated.”

“It’s just ... We ... It’s Rita. She’s poisoning Bobbi’s mind. I don’t stand a chance. From a woman’s perspective, okay? Not my mother’s perspective, but from a woman’s perspective, what can I do? What does Bobbi need to see from me to get rid of whatever picture Rita’s painted for her?”

“Mom! I need help, not more accusations!” Silence. “I’m sorry. I haven’t slept. She ... she doesn’t want me there for Thanksgiving.”

“
Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him;

Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,

Because of the man who brings wicked schemes to pass.

Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;

Do not fret—it only causes harm ...

The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord,

And He delights in his way.

Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down;

For the Lord upholds him with His hand.”

*******

Chuck exited the
interstate and twisted in his seat so he could pull his phone from his pants pocket. He needed to let Tracy know he’d be at her place right on time, but before he could dial, his phone rang. It was Bobbi. “Hey, almost home?”

“
I wish,” she said. “It looks more like eleven or eleven-thirty. How about you?”

“
About the same, maybe a little later. I’m not quite to Columbia yet.”

“
How’d things go?”

“
Good. I think we’ll wrap this up ahead of schedule.” His call waiting beeped. “Hang on. I’ve got another call.”

“
Go ahead and take it. I didn’t have anything else. I’ll see you at home.”

“
Tell Gavin to drive carefully.” Chuck picked up the other call. “Hello?”

“
Where are you?” Tracy asked.

“
About fifteen minutes from your place.”

“
I was getting anxious.”

Me too.
For two days now, scenes from Tuesday evening replayed in his head, slipping into his memory in the most unexpected moments, like in the middle of the meeting with Tom Conrad.

And she was anxious. It had nothing to do with making sure he got his toolbox. No, she was anxious to be alone with him again. Incredible. He wasn’t going to her place with the intention of having sex again. He just ... he wanted to see her, talk to her, that’s all. Enjoy some intelligent conversation.

He pulled into Tracy’s driveway and untied his tie. He got out of the car and tossed his suit jacket on the passenger seat with the necktie. Casual. Low-key.

He rang Tracy’s doorbell and worked to roll up his sleeves while he waited, but he only got the left one before she opened the door. When he saw her, he forgot the toolbox, forgot he had sleeves, forgot he had a wife, forgot everything. She was dressed like a Victoria’s Secret model, in sheer black lace lingerie, with a short, silk robe. Her hair fell down to her shoulders, and his jaw dropped.

She smiled and opened the storm door for him. He stepped inside, never taking his eyes off her cleavage. She pushed the door closed, then pinned him against the wall, pressing her hips against his. She kissed him hard, sending a shiver down his spine.

He thought he heard the deadbolt, as he slid his hand around to her back. He felt her breath on his ear, caught her scent. “Make love to me, Chuck.” Then she pulled back, twisted away from him. He forced an eye open. He was alone in the foyer of Tracy’s house.

‘
Make love to me,’ she said. Tough to do when he couldn’t find her. He rubbed his eyes, then looked in the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. She was upstairs. He stood with a hand on the post, looking up the long flight of stairs. If he followed her upstairs, he couldn’t explain that one away. He was consciously choosing to be unfaithful to his wife. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t nine o’clock yet. Plenty of time. He grasped the banister and took the steps two at a time.

*******

At a quarter
past midnight, Chuck pulled into his own driveway. He had showered before he left Tracy’s so her scent didn’t linger on him. Strange soap he could explain. Strange woman ... not so much. One thing was absolutely certain. He could not be with Tracy Ravenna again. He couldn’t. He was a married man. A father ... He went to church ... Just this past Sunday. He sat there in church beside his wife. That had to count for something.

Granted, he crossed a line tonight. He chose. He chose Tracy, but if he stopped now, there was no real harm done. He could choose to end it, and it would end now. He’d go in there and be Bobbi’s husband from now on. He draped his suit jacket and tie across his arm, and grabbed his briefcase. He’d get the garment bag from the trunk in the morning. And the toolbox.

Bobbi left the front door unlocked for him. That meant she hadn’t been home long. What if she was still awake? His pulse quickened and he ducked in the downstairs bathroom. He carefully inspected his face. He didn’t think Tracy was wearing any lipstick, but he couldn’t risk it. He washed his hands, so his sweaty palms didn’t give him away, then he stole upstairs.

Thank God, she was asleep. The bathroom light was on, so he could see to change clothes. He hung his suit on its hanger, and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from the dresser.

“
Welcome home,” Bobbi said. Her voice, soft and gentle, startled him so that he had to grab the corner of the bed.

“
I thought you were asleep. You scared me.”

“
I missed you this week.”

“
Missed me? But I’m gone all the time.”

“
I was gone this time. I felt like I’d abandoned you.”

He flipped the bathroom light off, then pulled the covers back, and climbed in bed beside her. “You had a good time, though?”

“
I did, but ... I don’t know. It just really hit home how much I missed you.” She surprised him, laying a hand on his chest, then leaning over to kiss him on the lips. “I wish it was a different ... uh ... week of the month, you know.”

“
I’ll give you a rain check. We’re both exhausted, anyway.”

“
I intend to collect ... soon as possible.” She nestled beside him, once again laying a hand on his chest.

“
Goodnight, Bobbi.” He didn’t move a muscle until he heard her breathing grow slower and deepen. He had to think. This was Thursday. He was going to be out of town next week until Thursday evening. If he made it a point of being with Bobbi this weekend, then he could see Tracy Thursday. That would work. He’d have things to catch up on so it would make sense for him to stay late at the office. Thursday it is.