Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay) (6 page)

“
Oh, God.” I glanced over my shoulder at the two of them giggling over a tray of earrings. “How do you survive something like that?” I kept my voice quiet.

“
You do it because you know you have no other choice,” she answered softly. “And one day, you know you can’t survive another moment in hell, so you find the strength to leave.”

The power in her voice touched something deep inside me and suddenly I struggled with a sick feeling of guilt. How insane, how selfish I
’d been for almost a year, weeping and feeling sorry for myself when women like Jeanie and Holly and Sarah had suffered so much more pain than I’d ever known in my life.

I touched Sarah
’s shoulder. “I want to help. Tell me how I can help.”

SIX

I was fairly bubbling with enthusiasm as I set plates on the counter for Will and me in Carrie and Liam
’s kitchen. The change in me was so dramatic I almost had to keep checking the mirror to see if it was really me. Working at the shelter had brought new purpose to my life and I hopped out of bed each morning ready to go. What a difference from when I’d arrived over a month ago.

Will sat on a barstool, watching me bustle around the kitchen, tossing a salad, cleaning asparagus, and checking the chicken baking in the oven. I was talking a mile a minute, but he didn
’t seem to mind. He simply sat, wearing an enigmatic smile. I imagine he couldn’t believe I was the same sad quiet Julie who’d arrived several weeks earlier.

We
’d gotten past that awkward night when we kissed, mostly because Will insisted on it. If I’d had my way after that humiliation, we’d only have nodded to one another as we passed in the elevator or at the mailboxes. But he kept inserting himself into my life at every opportunity, and tonight, I was glad for his company. However I was still determined to keep things between us strictly casual.

I knew it irritated him that I never missed a chance to treat him like one of my sons, even to the point of offering him cookies and milk one night when he showed up at my apartment with
Tracy and Hepburn, The Definitive Collection
on DVD. Hell, I even tried to sew a button on for him when a shirt had come back from the cleaners missing one, and he’d dropped by to borrow a needle and thread. It was a defense mechanism, and the fact that I felt compelled to use it worried me some. Did that mean I was more drawn to him than I was willing to admit?

The man
was
incredibly attractive— intelligent, easy to talk to, warm, and funny. He could charm the socks right off any woman he wanted, so why had he chosen to spend time with me? I’d made it very clear that I couldn’t get involved with him, but he seemed content with simply hanging out as buddies. We watched movies, met for coffee in the mornings, and ordered in take-out a few nights. He even joined me in the pool in the mornings, swimming laps with a long, loose-limbed stroke.

But sometimes I caught him gazing at me, and the look in his eyes was way more than friendly. I
’d opened up a can of worms that night with that kiss, and I wasn’t at all sure how to close it. The difference in our ages wasn’t truly my biggest issue; it was just a convenient excuse. No, my problem was Charlie. Even though he’d been gone over a year, I was still good and married. Menopausal horniness aside, no other man—not even one as kind and interesting as Will Brody—would ever have my heart.

Charlie was with me. I felt him near all the time. I knew he approved of my moving to Chicago for the winter, and I sensed his support of my volunteering at the shelter. It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do. Charlie was a philanthropist—he
’d donated time to the free clinic in Traverse City, and he was one of the few cardiac surgeons who operated on uninsured patients for free, which always had him in hot water with the other docs in his practice.

Some nights, I talked to him, telling him about my day at the shelter or my visit to the new therapist or even that I
’d found a new restaurant or an interesting shop. I could pretend he was just a few steps away in the bathroom or changing in the closet. When I was alone, I drew comfort from my memories and the sense that he’d always be near me. The therapist said it was perfectly normal to think,
Oh, I’ll have to tell Charlie about this,
or,
Wouldn’t Charlie think this was hilarious?
After being with someone for over thirty years, wanting to share your life with them was natural. But Dr. Jardin also encouraged me to find new friends, so that’s exactly what I was doing with Sarah Everett, the other volunteers at the shelter, and of course, Will Brody.

I poured
Riesling into wine glasses and set one in front of him. “Found this at the wine shop over by the law school. I hope it’s decent. Rieslings can sometimes be too sweet.” We both sipped and I nodded approval. “Not too bad, huh? I tried to find Tuckaway. It was Charlie’s favorite and really yummy.”

“
Tuckaway?” He took another sip of the wine and cocked his head. “Are you talking about the winery in the Sierra foothills in California?”

“
Mm hm, the town is called Angels Camp. I only remember that because I loved the name. I’ve never been to the winery, but
he
went whenever he had conferences in San Francisco. He always had it shipped since we couldn’t get it in Michigan. I’m guessing you can’t get it here, either.” I took another drink before adding the asparagus to the simmering water. “I should check their website.”

“
You should. I’ve actually been there. Liam and I used to go wine tasting when we were in California. Tuckaway is a great winery.”

“
Charlie loved their Riesling and their petit Syrah.” I bent over to open the oven door to check the chicken and set the loaf of bread on the rack next to it while I was down there. When I shut the oven door, I shook my hair back off my flushed face. “Almost. Just about five more minutes and everything will be ready.” I sat down next to him, one fuzzy slipper hanging precariously off my toe.

“
So things are working for you at the shop?” His voice was a little strained, and he was focusing intently on my face—a trick I’d seen too many men use when what they really wanted was to stare at my breasts.

Maybe this blue, wide-necked sweater was a mistake tonight, but it was one of my favorites and
I’d gained back enough weight that it had finally stopped sagging on me. I ignored his expression and went for the question. “I love it. Sarah and the girls are so sweet and dedicated and I can see why. I haven’t heard everyone’s story yet, but the ones I have heard are horrific. The men they were involved with were pure evil.”

“
Really?” At last I had his attention. “Like how?”

“
Well, every one of them was physically abusive in some wretched way, but also emotionally and mentally. They tore these poor women down to the point that most of them truly hate themselves. There’s a group therapy session at the shelter and even some of the women who no longer stay there come back for it.” I rose again to check on the asparagus. “And these are intelligent, educated women from good backgrounds—one of them is a nurse and one’s an attorney, whose husband was a judge. He used to make her lick his shoes.”

“
Jesus!” Will’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“
Yep.” When I nodded, my hair brushed my neck and bare shoulders. “And that’s not the worst thing I’ve heard. God bless them all, their stories are nightmares. I don’t know how they did it… or why.”

“
I’ve never gotten that, either. Why do women stay in circumstances like that anyway? Why don’t they just leave?”

“
Sarah told me these situations take years to build up. That the men work hard to gain the women’s trust and love, and then tear them down bit by bit. They convince them they’re worthless and not worthy of anyone’s love. These guys are real nutjobs, but they’re also often quite charismatic. And it doesn’t matter how much education you have, when you’ve had your mind messed with at the level these guys do it, your self-confidence and ability to discern reality go in the toilet.”

“
God, that’s frightening.”

“
Isn’t it? Sarah comes from a very prominent family in Georgia. Her ex is some big real estate mogul down there, but he treated her like a dog and I’m not being metaphorical. He used to put a leash on her when they were in bed.” I shut my eyes at the memory of Sarah’s story, which I’d heard one night after we’d closed the shelter and opened the bottle of tequila Sarah kept in her desk drawer.

“
That sounds really grim, Julie.”

“
It’s not.” I shook my head. “I mean… the stories
are
grim, but the women are so amazing. They come in completely defeated, and by the time they leave, they’re ready to face the world on their own. It’s inspiring.”

“
What does the therapist say about you being there so much?” Will reached for the bottle of wine and refilled both our glasses.

“
She’s all for it.” I got the chicken and bread out of the oven, wrapped the bread in a towel and covered the chicken breasts with a piece of foil to let them rest for a few minutes. “I think she wants me to see that even though I’ve had tragedy in my life, other people have too. It’s not only making me doubly grateful for what a wonderful husband Charlie was, but I’m pretty much over feeling sorry for myself.”

“
You do seem happier.” Will’s grin warmed me right down to my toes. His eyes narrowed as a flush warmed my cheeks. I knew he could see the dangerous effect he was having, and I wished I was better at hiding my reactions. Instead, I stepped back.

“
I
am
happier, and I had a great idea last night for another fundraiser for the shelter. When I mentioned it to Sarah today, she was all about it.”

Color rose
up his neck, too, and he started to say something. The words wouldn’t come, so he gulped down the wine, then cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

“
I was thinking that it would be fun to do a fashion show. You know, using clothes that have been donated to Belle Femme. I’m sure I could get some of my model friends to help out. At first, I suggested using women from the shelter as models. I thought it’d be a kick for them, but Sarah nixed that idea.”

“
Why? I bet they’d have fun.”

“
She was afraid of the publicity—that maybe the women’s exes would see them in a newspaper picture or TV feature or something. I get that.” When I shrugged, the sweater, which had a wide loose neckline, fell to one side, revealing a glimpse of my collarbone and shoulder. Hastily, I rearranged it, wondering again if I should’ve selected something less revealing to wear tonight.

Will gave a little sigh and got up from his stool, jiggling change in his pocket as he wandered around the kitchen like a nervous cat.
The laptop was set up and open on the wooden surface of the table by the window. He picked the little optical USB mouse beside it, turning it over in his fingers.

I caught his smile.
“Hey, kid, no making fun of an old timer who can’t handle a track pad, okay?”

“
I didn’t say anything.” He raised both hands in self-defense. “I’m glad to see you got the wireless going.”

“
You didn’t have to say anything. I caught the smirk.” I scooped poached asparagus onto our plates next to slices of baked chicken. “And don’t start congratulating me yet. I still haven’t figured out the damn wireless, so I can’t get on the Internet. I’ve been emailing the kids from the shop. There’s always downtime and Sarah told me to feel free to check for messages if I felt like it.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s all I ever use the computer for anyway. But I really
would
like to get this one working so I can use it to map out plans for the fashion show and to email my friends from the agency. That’s Charlie’s old laptop, but I can get to my own email with webmail.”

“
I’ll take a look after dinner, okay?”

“
Dinner’s ready.” I waved my hands like a magician over the spread on the countertop. “Come and get it.”

SEVEN

Dinner was delicious. Cooking had always brought me pleasure and it was nice to have someone to cook for again. Not that I intended to be making meals for Will Brody on a regular basis, but I had to admit it was good to be in the kitchen and using my creative skills. As we ate and chatted about the neighborhood, his work, the latest emails from my family, and the shop, I was suddenly conscious of how at ease I could be with him. The attraction simmering just below the surface didn
’t have to make things awkward. We could do this if we both simply kept things in perspective. Friends—relaxed and easy.

But it also occurred to me that I
’d spent most of the evening talking about myself and the shop and my kids. With news of Kevin and Meg’s due date coming up, the fashion show fundraiser, and Renee’s latest email from Africa, the conversation had centered on
my
life. I knew very little about Will, while he knew my whole history.