Not To Us (33 page)

My pulse skyrockets. I dig through my purse and dial Kimberley Powers’ cell phone. “No. No. No” I keep repeating over and over. My hands shake by the time she answers on the third ring.

“Kimberley, it’s Ellie.” I fight for my composure as my thirteen-year-old son looks on.

“Fuck! Are they already there? I was just about to call you,” Kimberley says. “They’ve got the story, Ellie. They have a photo with you and Court from Italy and they’re running it.”

“What kind of photo?” I ask.

“One of you and Court, it must have been taken with a telephoto lens, but it’s damaging, Ellie. They’re running with it. I tried to stop them from printing it, but once they had the photograph and figured out who you were, well, it’s a great story in their view.”

“Some reporter was at my son’s school, Kimberley.”

“Okay. I’m on my way. I’m just boarding the plane in New York. I’ll be landing in Seattle in the next five hours. I want you to gather your family. Go home and wait for my call. Do you understand? I don’t want you to use the landline or your cell or answer the door
—
same goes with your family.”

“Does Court know?” My heart starts pounding faster in just saying his name.

“Yeah,” Kimberley says with a hint of sympathy. “He’s already been told
not
to call you. I wonder how long he’ll actually follow that directive.” I hear the sarcasm in her tone along with a little laugh. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m sorry this has happened to you. It’s…I’m sorry. Court said to tell you that as well.”

“How bad can it get?” I ask with a trembling laugh.

“Oh, Ellie.” Kimberley groans. “I wish I didn’t know the answer to that. Just hang tough, until I get there. We’ll check into a hotel tonight and I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“Okay.” I hesitate. “I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. We’re re-running all the tests
—
”

Kimberley is swearing.

“Ellie, they’ll have the hospital staked out. Your husband works at one of them; right?”

“Yes. Oh, God. I should call Michael.”

“Yes. Call him now. He’ll need to lie low like the rest of us for a couple of days, until we come up with our response.”

“Okay.”

“Gotta go. The flight attendant is giving me the evil eye,” Kimberley says. “Hang in there. I’m on my way. I’ll work on strategy on the flight and call you after I land. Gotta go.”

Call ended flashes on my phone. I can’t even talk. I just sit there in a stunned silence. Frozen. I begin trembling all over and then hear Mathew say something to me from the backseat. “Mom, we need to get Em.”

I can only nod as I start the car again and pull back onto the road. I pick up my cell again, stare at it a few minutes, and slowly dial Michael’s cell phone. It goes straight to voice mail and I leave a message that he needs to come home right away and to call me as soon as he gets my message. I hesitate wanting to give him the gist about the media story and the connection being made about me to Court Chandler because Mathew is right here.

I can feel my life falling apart even as I pull up to Emily’s school. I put the car in park, stalk towards my child, and pull her to me just as the flash goes off from some photographer’s camera. I awkwardly pick up Emily and hide her in my coat and stagger to the car with her. It takes another five minutes to get past the two reporters that are busy taking pictures of me and my children as we leave Wilkes Elementary.

I take a back route to our beach house. My paranoia runs at an all-time high. I tell the kids that they are not to answer the phone or their cell phones or use the computer or watch television.

“So, exactly, what are we doing, mother?” Emily asks in exasperation.

“You’re watching
Enchanted
in the family room,” I say.

“Awesome!” Emily responds with a giggle. Mathew actually laughs at his sister’s excitement. I smile at him and mouth “Thank you.”

I park the car in the garage and we make our way into the house. The message light is flashing on the answering machine. I press play. There are three calls from a reporter and a call from Michael as well as Robert all within the last half hour. I call Robert first because it is the easiest call to make as my apprehension with Michael grows.

“Robert,” I say, subdued when he answers.

“Ellen Kay, what’s going on? I’m leaving court today and a reporter is asking me all kinds of questions about you…and this guy Court Chandler.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, ensuring the kids can’t hear my conversation. “Look, it’s a long, complicated story. Michael already knows about this. I just need you to not say anything to the media. Can you do that?”

“Yes, but, Ellie…are you in…
involved
with this guy?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about, Bobby,” I say sharply, too sharply, reacting to his judging tone. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have to get involved in this anymore than you already are. The less you know the better.”

There’s a long pause on his end of the phone and knowing Bobby as I do, I’m sure he’s sifting through arguments on how to approach this situation with me. “Okay,” he finally says with a heavy sigh. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

“Okay. It might be best for you to take the kids this weekend.”

“All right. Ellie…are you going to be okay?” Robert asks.

“Yes, we’re all going to be okay,” I say back to him.

The surety in my voice is for both of us. Even I want to believe the sincerity in which I tell this lie, though uncertainty has already started to creep in on me. “Look. I need to go. I need to reach Michael. Can you get the kids from school tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Robert says, and then hesitates. “Ellie, whatever you did; I’m sure Michael will understand. The one thing you are is loyal,” my ex-husband says to me before he ends the call.

The tears run freely down my face and I wipe them away as the shame courses through me. I’m a liar and a cheat and somehow, Bobby Bradford never sees me this way. Exactly, where and when did I get off track? Was it twenty years ago when I was secretly hoping Michael would ask me out again even after Bobby proposed? What is wrong with me? I brush at my tears, awash in self-hatred.

≈≈

I race through the house deciding to start some sort of dinner, while I try Michael’s cell phone again. He answers on the first ring.

“I’m on the ferry.” I can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s already been touched in some way by this disaster.

“Tell me.”

“A reporter caught me in the hospital parking lot and started asking all kinds of questions about you and Court Chandler. He showed me a picture of you and Chandler…and wanted to know if I had a comment about my
wife’s
affair.”

“I’m…sorry, Michael. I didn’t intend to…hurt you this way.”

“Well, I guess that’s what happens when you fuck around with someone famous,” he says back to me with a bitter laugh. His flippancy barely contains the fury I can easily detect in his voice. His breath is staggered as if he’s gasping for air. We are right back to where we started, a few months ago. The image of Michael with Carrie in her white Mercedes assails me now. I involuntarily cry out, remembering the desolation of that life-changing moment.

“Let’s just remember who fucked around first,” I say without thinking.

There’s this stunned silence between us and then he says, “I’m sorry.” His remorse reaches for me through the phone line. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

We say our goodbyes and I stare at ‘call ended’ on my phone, until it disappears from the screen. Call ended, just like that.
Life ended, just like that, too.

With growing fear, I busy myself with getting dinner for the kids, looking around for plates and serving up reheated leftover lasagna for Mathew and Emily. I have this sudden overwhelming sense of loss of Nick. I miss his smile and his teasing. I miss my sixteen-year-old son so much. I wipe away tears with the back of my hand and carry the heaping plates of food into the family room and set them down in front of Emily and Mathew and try to act normal. I tell them I’ll be upstairs and leave before they can get a good look at my tear-streaked face.

Minutes late, I’m staring at my undressed self in the bathroom mirror where I stand in only a lacy white bra and panties. I scrutinize my breasts and my rounded basketball of a stomach and feel the babies move. “How did I get here?” I ask the woman in the mirror. She doesn’t answer.

The fact is, whatever this media explosion might be, it is nothing compared to what we’ve been through over the loss of Nick and Elaina and the loss of each other.

In a daze, I put on a robe and walk down the hallway, open the door to Nick’s room, and close it quickly behind me. Standing in the center of his room, I note it’s just the way he left it. There are his Seven Jeans thrown haphazardly across the bed. His laptop is still open. As I move the mouse trying to capture the essence of him as he must have sat at this very desk. His computer screen lights up. An e-mail that he started to Elaina is in full view.

Elaina,

I guess the newly-married Shaw’s want us to go bowling. I can deal with that, if you can. Look, I know I didn’t say it right the other night, just know I love you and I can wait. I will wait for you, Elaina. You mean