The Woman He Married (7 page)

“Uh…yeah,” Josie said, not sure if that was a question or a statement, while looking down at her fully-dressed body, right down to the shoes.

Chin raised, he looped his tie around, and said, “Thought you were going to buy a new dress or something.”

Her stomach sank, crushing the flutters. His demeanor gave no hint that he’d come bearing gifts.

“Well, you know the caterer cancelled, and I had to—”

“I was short with you today,” he said, now attempting to smooth down his hair that by nature wanted to be messy.

Is that some sort of lame excuse for an apology?
 
She decided to let it go. Opening her lipstick tube, she said instead, “I saw your ad today.”

“Yeah?
What did you think?” he asked.

As she applied her lip color, she wanted to say,
Why
was everyone in it but me?
Only, even in her head she sounded like a whiney four-year-old. “It was good, but I thought you could have focused more on your qualifications and less on—”

“Jocelyn, what do
you
know about writing a campaign ad?” he asked as he turned and exited the bathroom.

“Well, not a whole lot, but I’m an intelligent person and a savvy voter.” She closed her lipstick and followed him out. “I just don’t think you need to appeal to the lowest common denominator,” she was saying until she realized he was no longer there—she was effectively talking to herself.

She exhaled heavily.
Why can’t he listen to me for just one second?
 
Then she remembered reading somewhere that when women talk to men they should use as concise statements as possible because the sound of a women’s voice lulls a man into a minor state of unconsciousness, or something like that.
What am I supposed to do?
she
wondered,
speak in Internet Messenger language?

“B
tw
,
ur
ad sucks,” she muttered to herself. “And,
idk
, I don’t have an appropriate dress b/c I didn’t have
enuff
time b/c I was buying food to feed
ur
bffs
.”

That should be concise enough,
she decided as she started out after him
.
“John, I think we should talk about—”

Josie stopped when, to her surprise, she was met by three smiling faces all dressed in their Sunday best, standing side-by-side in the hall outside her bedroom. Her own smile materialized as she swelled with pride, looking at her little darlings.
The same darlings who, a half-hour ago, were little monsters.

“Y’all look pretty as a picture. Thank you for helping your momma all by yourselves.” Their smiles grew wider still. “Come on
now,
let’s go see what we can do with that hair.”

* * * *

After Beth’s hair had been fastened up with a black velvet bow, she hopped off of the stool and out of the bathroom, swishing her black and white checked taffeta dress as she went. Returning only minutes later, she carried a sparkling tiara.

“This too, Momma,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I want to look
perty
for Daddy’s important guests.”

Josie looked down into the expectant eyes of her darling girl. She knew as a Southerner she was supposed to revere her sons. After all, didn’t every Southern woman feel that it was her duty to God, society, and her husband to rear, and then pamper beyond belief, at least one son, knowing all the while no other woman could ever take her place? The truth was that she loved her sons as much as Beth, but the simple fact remained: Beth was a female and their double Y-chromosomes would forever bond them on a level she’d never share with her sons.

Choosing her battle wisely, Josie secured the crown in front of Beth’s bow and then stood back, taking in the precious sight of her little princess.

After making one last pass through the family room to straighten up, Josie headed to the kitchen to put the bread into the warmer. She was just closing the oven door when the sound of the doorbell caused her to jump. Looking at the clock—half past six—she knew it must be Gina and hurried to answer the door before John. Rounding the corner from the kitchen to the entry, she saw John coming out of the study, sure to get there before she could.

Damn, I’m too late
, she cursed, watching with worried anticipation as he unlocked the deadbolt and turned the knob.

On the doorstep, Gina was sporting a
don’t-even-start-with-me
smirk. As an annoyed expression reached John’s face, he stood square in the middle of the doorway and said, in a short and almost angry voice, simply, “Gina,” while holding his position as if guarding his domain from an angry mob.

“John.” She greeted him with a snarl as she pushed past him and entered the house.

Unwillingly, he turned his body to the side, watching her through narrowed eyes as she passed. When he looked back through the door, John’s baleful expression deepened as he failed to hide his annoyance at seeing Audrey, Gina’s sixteen-year-old daughter, sneering at him as she came up the steps. A very intelligent, opinionated and, at times, funny girl, Audrey was almost a carbon copy of her mother.

As Audrey passed, John greeted her by saying, “Spawn of Gina.”

“Bite me, David Duke.”

John looked back at Gina and said, “
Nice
.”

Gina shrugged.
“If the shoe fits.”

Closing the door, John almost hit Gina’s husband, Dash, on his way in. “Hold up, there,” Dash said, as John grabbed the door before it hit him.

Dash was a relatively short man—he and Gina stood pretty much eye-to-eye—with pale skin, round wire glasses, and wavy light brown thinning hair. A history teacher at the local high school, he was kind, patient, and soft-spoken. Who else could marry Gina? Any other man would have purchased a huge life insurance policy and had her “taken out” before enjoying the good life in some exotic country with no extradition.

“Dash!
I didn’t realize this was a family affair,” John apologized, softening his tone a bit—he really didn’t have a problem with Dash.

“It seems I’m your bartender tonight, or so I’ve been told,” Dash replied with raised eyebrows as he passed John and headed for the back of the house.

John checked out front to make sure there wasn’t anyone else coming before slowly closing the door. As it clicked shut, Josie could see the sky had become black, with enormous billowing storm clouds. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she shivered as the seconds between lightning strikes and the thunder following lessened with the advancing storm. With his hand still resting on the knob, John stood facing the door, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“What are
they
doing here?” he asked slowly and deliberately, enunciating every word, his jaw set, eyes narrow and angry.

“It was the last minute. Who else was I going to ask?” Josie replied. “What did you
think,
I was going to
serve
the food myself as well?”

He exhaled loudly. “They best be on their best behavior.”

“Or what?” she muttered, and then the doorbell rang again.

With a roll of his eyes, John turned and let in the sitter—a young teenage girl from their church.

Smiling demurely at John, she said, “Evening, Mr. Bearden.” She was flipping her blonde hair as her long legs carried her past him.

Apparently there isn’t a female alive who doesn’t find my husband attractive,
Josie mused as she instructed her to keep track of the kids until the guests had all arrived and been properly introduced. Then, it was off to the guesthouse, secure for the evening.

In the kitchen, looking very professional in their white blouses and black pants, Gina and Audrey were busily working preparing the appetizers when Josie walked in to apologize for John’s rude behavior.

“I guess the warden didn’t know we were coming,” Gina said, looking up briefly from the Crab
Rangoons
she was arranging on a cooking sheet.

Letting out an
embarrassed
laugh, Josie said, “Sorry about that.”

Gina gave her a wink and a smile. “No problem; my day isn’t complete unless I’ve infuriated at least one person with my presence.”

“Please, just for me, don’t say anything that would…um…you
know
.”

“Infuriate the warden, causing you more problems that you’ll undoubtedly add to your list of marital issues that need avoidance,” Gina said flatly.

“Exactly,” Josie said.

The doorbell rang. Seven o’clock sharp.

“Show-time,” Audrey announced.

Chapter 3

Josie listened to the sound of the rain as it fell against the dining room windows. The light tinkling sound was just soothing enough to keep her nerves in check. The dining room with its ocher walls and bold blue, maroon, and gold silk drapes, along with the candles Gina lit right before supper, illuminated Josie’s grandmother’s antique table, china, and silver perfectly. At the opposite end of the table John sat in all his glory surrounded by the people who would, undoubtedly, be the means to achieving his ultimate dream—elected public service. To his left, Philander Montgomery, or
Lanny
as everyone called him, and his wife Barbara showed no signs of recognition.

A rather large and menacing man in his sixties,
Lanny
had thick graying hair and eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a red nose, and rosy cheeks. Not quite Colonel Sanders, more like the actor Brian
Dennehey
. Barbara was short and a bit stocky with dyed-brown hair that had been curled and teased into the classic “helmet” look. She was dressed in a rich flowered blazer with matching skirt and wearing a tad too much makeup.

Josie glanced around the table, seeing that everyone appeared in pretty good spirits. Gina, Audrey, and Dash had kept the food and drinks coming all evening—no one would have ever known they weren’t professionals.

Although Josie could hear voices, she wasn’t listening as her gaze kept drifting back to John’s press secretary, Trisha. Sitting directly to his right, she wore an off-the-shoulder, stretch dress that perfectly accented her round breasts and firm abs. Only it wasn’t her beauty or toned, never-had-a-baby figure that troubled Josie, but the sparkling piece of jewelry dangling from her wrist.

It was a tennis bracelet made of pear-shaped gemstones surrounded by twinkling white diamonds. Josie couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked to be an exact match to the very bracelet John had supposedly purchased from
Roy
for her.

Josie forced herself to take a bite of food.

She chewed slowly as her eyes scanned from Trisha and on to Trisha’s husband,
Denton
. His cell buzzed and he excused himself to take the call. The epitome of tall dark and handsome,
Denton
was a highly successful, and evidently sought after, surgeon.

To Josie’s left, Andy was telling an unflattering story about his wife. “I guess it’s for ditzy women like my
Lydia
they put,
‘Warning, contents are flammable,’
on the
outside
of the box of fireworks,” he said and a low roar of laughter rose from the table. “Isn’t that right, Honey?” he finished with a devious smile.