Every Woman Needs a Wife (38 page)

T
anya slipped into a soft, pink sweatsuit, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She checked on the beef stew simmering on the stove. Fresh-baked bread cooled on a rack on the counter.

She waited outside of Brandi’s office for a few moments before she cleared her throat and said, “I have an idea for a business.”

“I’m all ears,” Brandi snapped without looking up.

Tanya hesitated. “Do you want to discuss this when you’re not having a PMS moment?”

Brandi sighed, took a long breath, and pushed the
Fortune
magazine away. She then pulled
Black Enterprise
to the top of the stack, and said calmly, “I’m all ears.”

“What about a place that does background checks strictly for women who are just getting into a relationship?”

Brandi blinked and stared at her. A bit of Tanya’s confidence slipped.

She explained a bit more. “If a woman wants to get involved with or wants to marry a guy, she can have him checked out and see what the references say. Just like a job. You do background checks on new applicants, right? Same thing.”

“Vernon really hurt you, didn’t he?”

Tanya inhaled sharply. “More than I can say.”

Brandi flipped open the magazine, scanning the pages. “You’ve got to get over it.”

One sandy brown eyebrow shot up. “Have you?”

“No, but then again, I signed up for the long program—thirteen years.
I still love him, but I have regrets. I should’ve married what was behind door number one. I can’t spring for a new business right now. I can’t split the focus. I’m struggling to make ends meet, and if there’s no turnaround, and I mean real soon—we’ll be meeting the end.” The rush of words stopped for a moment as she thought things over. “Here, I’m gonna give you a template for a business plan. If you’re so sure that it’ll work—you do the research and fill it in.”

Tanya gasped, eyes wide with shock. “I can’t do that. I don’t know anything about running a business.”

“You know how to run this house, right? Balance a checkbook? Straight-up accounting. Groceries? Supply and inventory. Sierra and Simone? That’s human resources,” Brandi said, flicking a finger up with each point. “Coordinating three meals a day is time management, organization, and synchronization. Apply your life skills to what you know, then do the research. The rest is trial and terror.”

When Brandi spoke again her tone was softer. “You passed your GED, and got pretty high scores on the ACT and SAT. And now you’re taking English and calculus college courses. At some point, you’ve got to step up to the plate. You have an idea—develop it. See what you can do before you say the words
I can’t
.”

“Okay,” Tanya said, in a resigned whisper. “I’ll sell my engagement ring. Soon I’ll be able to buy my own.”

For the first time in a long time Brandi smiled. “Now that’s the spirit!”

♥♥♥

Yes, Tanya Kaufman had spirit by the droves. Though she may not have been born that way—the long walk to Walton Medical Center that cold night had served to bolster a strength rich girls didn’t seem to gain until marriage number three.

Margaret Jaunal had been more concerned with her husband’s status than with her daughter’s well-being. What other reason could there be for that back-alley abortion? Tanya couldn’t let them get away with it.

She walked down the side of the road, steeling herself against the pain with every step until it subsided some. Her footprints were visible in the mist-covered grass that the moon’s reflection made into a white glow. Where was Mindy? If her mother had gone this far with her, what had her mother done to silence her little sister?

Tanya slowly made her way toward the Mars Hill Baptist Church, remembering the times she’d skipped the quiet and calm of Catholic mass to visit the fiery and soulful services of Michelle’s church. Closing her eyes against the pain, she moved forward, but pictured the inside of the church. No organ, but an occasional guitar. Mr. Jefferson banged the life out of that old piano. The choir sang old hymns, and the men’s choir sang a cappella. She could hear them now, their melodious voices draping over her, shielding her from her pain. She imagined the choir marching in their flowing white robes, taking their places in an area that only had twenty-five chairs and three step-up rows. But those powerful voices had reached her soul. And the memories were reaching her now as surely as if they had marched up the street beside her and had spread out in a circle of protection around her.

The oak pews in Mars Hill had red cushions that matched the carpet. The baptismal pool lay flush against the wall next to the kitchen area. Her parents didn’t know that when was ten she had been baptized with Michelle one Sunday, accepting Christ as her savior and letting the Lord into her heart. Then she screwed up all that good salvation by telling her parents that the reason her hair was wet was because she went swimming. Well, it was called a “pool,” right?

Tanya called on God to help her as she walked toward the well that signaled the beginning of Social Circle’s life and history, a time when merchants were required to close their stores at ten. Any person found on the streets would have to give a satisfactory account of their presence or spend the night in the guardhouse. Luckily, times had changed or Tanya would have had to give an earful to the police officer who stopped her. She wondered if he would be someone who was in her father’s pocket.

In the distance, she could see the small airport that only housed crop
dusters and her father’s private plane. If she could, she’d hop in that plane and fly as far away as its wings would carry her.

Then she braced herself to walk past the antebellum home, that had once belonged to a Dr. Brown. The house had a permanent guest who had made the place legendary. A strange calm spread over Tanya as she passed by what everyone called the Brown Plantation. Anyone who mentioned the place was sure to be asked, “Have you seen her?”

At the moment Tanya did see the fair-skinned woman, with a wide hoop skirt, dark hair pulled back into a bun, a small smile on her lips and a sad glint in her eyes that mirrored Tanya’s own.

The woman glided across the grass, catching up with Tanya’s slow pace and extended her hand. Aghast, Tanya placed a shaky hand inside the ghost’s hand and followed her, as though in a dream.

Wild plums used to make wine and the small wild grapes that Tanya once ate by the handfuls littered the grounds making it difficult to walk, but Tanya kept her eyes on “The Lady,” as everyone called her. She was known for watching over the children in the house and had never been sighted outside of the Brown Plantation. The Lady guided Tanya along the path, then turned her toward the east side of Social Circle.

Tanya couldn’t believe she had walked the five miles; for the second time in her life, she collapsed. This time it was on the doorstep of Michelle Pitchford’s house.

When she came to, members of the Pitchford family were scooping her off the cold ground. She reached down into her waistband, passed the jar, its gory contents surprisingly intact, to Diane and said, “Please get this to the hospital and tell them that it’s my baby. Promise me you’ll get it there.”

Mama Diane did more than that. She yelled for the rest of the family to come help. Edward Pitchford placed Tanya next to his wife in the front cab of their pickup truck and turned it in the direction of Walton Medical Center.

Tanya laid her head on Mama Diane’s soft shoulder. The woman stroked Tanya’s matted hair.

Tanya looked out of the car just in time to see The Lady from the Brown Plantation wave and turn away.

A
s angry as she was at Vernon, Brandi finally gave in and agreed to see him and to get inside his head. Now she lay next to her husband at the elegant Fairmont Hotel. The suite’s French décor was supposed to set the mood. It would take more than a suspense movie, dinner at Charlie Trotter’s, and a suite overlooking the Chicago River. Vernon grazed her breasts with his soft tongue.

“Wow, dinner, a movie, and the possibility of some really great sex? We’re really moving up in the world.”

Vernon paused midway to her navel. His gaze locked on hers.

“It’s amazing how different you’ve become.”

“A husband sleeping around on you can do that.” She looked down at his erection and said, “By the way, where’s your condom?”

Vernon shifted on the huge bed. “Condom? I’ve never used a condom with you.”

“Rumor has it that you didn’t use one with Tanya either.” She leaned back gracefully. “So like I said,
where’s your condom
?”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, never taking his gaze from the lower half of her body. “You’re my wife! I don’t have to use one with my wife. That’s one of the main reasons I got married—”

“Then you should’ve made sure you did everything in your power to keep it that way,” she said, grinning up at him, thighs swinging open and closed like a camera shutter.

Vernon let out a long, weary sigh. “How long are you gonna punish me for one indiscretion?”

“Not just one time, my love,
several
times with her over a two-year period. But who’s counting. Oh, that’s right—I am!”

He reached for Brandi. “It didn’t mean that she meant more to me than you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” she snapped, pushing him away. “You introduced our children to her. You were taking it to a whole new level.”

“I was never gonna
leave
you for her.”

She shrugged and looked him square in the eye. “Then that’s a pity, because you were satisfied to use her and throw her away. Just like our marriage: add one mistress—,” she snapped her fingers—“will dissolve like Alka-Seltzer.”

“Aargh!”

The hard-on that had been swimming strongly out to sea was now floating back to shore, shriveling like a California raisin.

“Let Tanya tell it”—Brandi wagged a finger—“And she did give up all the dirty details, you naughty boy—your dick’s got more mileage than the average used car. I would never trust you enough to let you ride bare-back again.”

She gave his warm bare cheeks a solid pat. “You either saddle up, big boy, or you and your leeeeeeetle friend can mosey on down to the saloon and take your pick of local whores. I’m sure someone out there would appreciate second-hand dick.” Then she beamed as her eyes widened with delight. “Hey,” she said, perking up. “Tanya may even be up for a small touch up around the edges. And then again, maybe the old girl could use a full relaxer.”

Vernon could only stare at the woman he’d been married to for thirteen years. “When did you become so cold?”

“The moment I found out that you didn’t think I was good enough. The moment that I became Tanya’s…husband.”

The woman was actually serious! He could give in or kiss quality time with his wife good-bye. “I’ll go get a condom.”

She nodded. “You do that.”

Then she turned her back to him, pulling the blanket over her luscious naked form.

Rain pelted the windshield as Vernon drove to the nearest Walgreen’s. The elation that he felt when he first decided to seduce his wife had quickly dissipated. Purchasing a condom to have sex with a woman he loved and had been with for over thirteen years brought home the fact of just how much things had changed.

Underneath all the posturing, he loved his wife and missed the conversations about business, the kids, or sometimes nothing at all.

He wasn’t her first choice for marriage and he understood that. So he spent the first part of their marriage trying to show her she’d made the right choice. He always felt that no matter what he did, he was never good enough. Then she took the business in a whole new direction, changing to an upscale décor and starting an aggressive campaign for new clients. So far, he’d spent the second half of their marriage competing with her, trying to excel in the same places she did.

She was steadily gaining the upper hand, something his father had told him should never happen.

He admired her. He loved her. And he was downright jealous and ashamed. She had become more like his father than he cared to admit. Her hard work had turned The Perfect Fit from a company breaking even to one with a quarter of a million dollar profit each year. Comfortable. Nice.

“Hey, I know you,” the gray-haired cashier said with a wide grin. “Aren’t you that guy with the wife and mistress living in the same house?”

Vernon didn’t answer. Instead he slid a twenty-dollar bill onto the Formica counter.

“I’d love to be in your shoes,” the slender man said with a hearty chuckle as he dropped the Trojans in a small plastic bag. “You must be on cloud nine.”

Grimacing, Vernon reached in the bag, stuffed the condoms in his pocket, took his change, and walked away. He realized he was nowhere near cloud nine. He hadn’t even left the ground.

Thirty minutes later he arrived back at the Fairmont a note on the empty bed:

Thank you for the flowers, dinner, and the movie
.

With all the new developments in our marriage
.

I think the timing’s all wrong for anything else
.

Despite everything, I still love you
.

Brandi

Vernon swiped the wineglass from the nightstand. Glass shattered against the nearest wall, splintering into tiny lethal weapons. Slivers lodged in Vernon’s arm and a piece wedged in his upper foot. As he slumped to the floor in the corner, he didn’t feel any physical pain. The pain stabbing forcefully into his heart had taken a front seat and was driving his emotions to the nearest cliff.

Vernon realized that winning his wife back would take more than seduction and a little “below the waistline sunshine.” The open trust he’d taken for granted had disappeared like the Chicago skyline in a thick layer of fog. And trust—that one element had done more for his marriage than he thought. She loved him, but trust was something that was possibly out of reach.