Through the Heart (11 page)

I stayed out there, alone in the fields, longer than usual. I stayed until the sun went down and the temperature dropped even more. Then, when my nose and fingers were numb and I was almost shivering, I walked back to the car and drove home to my mother’s house.

I went straight upstairs to take a hot shower, and then I took the time to blow-dry my hair, which I almost never do since it takes forever. I dug out the makeup that I hadn’t used for ages. It had been so long, in fact, that when I tried to use the mascara, I discovered it had dried to a solid inside the container. For the first time I realized how much I had let slip in the last three years.

I put on the nicest dress I had, which was also the only dress I had. I’d bought it for the one date I went on in Chicago in the spring, and I hadn’t worn it since. Then I put a pair of heels in my bag and put on jeans underneath the dress and an overcoat on top of it. I knew if I went out in a dress and heels, and my mother saw me, there was no way I was going to get out of the house without an interrogation. And I wasn’t ready to be questioned—especially since I didn’t have any answers.

Even with my disguise, getting out of the house proved to be tough. It was like my mother had radar for the times when it was most inconvenient for her to be difficult.

She was sitting, watching TV, when I went downstairs.

“I’m going out,” I told her.

She turned to look at me, and I felt like she had X-ray vision, as if she could see right through the coat to the dress underneath.

“Where?” she demanded.

“Meeting Tammy.”

“Tammy is more important to you than your own mother?”

“Of course not,” I said.

“Good. Then stay in with me tonight. I’m feeling low. I’ve been alone in this house all day. I need some company.”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I can’t tonight.”

“Why not? You see that girl all the time. Why do you need to see her tonight?”

I spent practically every night with my mother, sitting on the couch watching TV. I couldn’t even count the number of nights she told me I should be going out instead of sitting around, that my life would be over before I knew it, and I’d still be sitting there on the couch alone because she wasn’t going to be there forever.

“I promise I’ll stay in tomorrow night,” I told her.

“I’m not talking about tomorrow night. I’m talking about tonight. Are you going to stay with me
tonight
? That’s all I’m asking you. I don’t think it’s so much.”

I realized that if I had really been going out with Tammy, I would have given in and stayed in with my mother. I knew it and she knew it. So by saying no, it was as good as saying there was something I wasn’t telling her. The only thing for me to do was to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

“Sorry. Not tonight, Mom,” I said, heading for the door. “I’ll probably be back a bit late. See you tomorrow.” And I hurried out, not waiting to hear what was sure to come. I could hear her through the door, but, mercifully, I couldn’t make out the words.

I drove far enough away for it to be safe to pull over, wriggle out of my jeans, change my shoes, take off the bulky coat, and put on some lipstick. Then I drove back to town and pulled up behind the now familiar convertible. Tonight the top was up, and the rear window was so small, and it was so dark, I couldn’t see if he was inside.

He wasn’t. He was standing underneath the Starbox awning. As soon as I turned off the car, he came over and opened the door for me.

He smiled at me as he took in what I was wearing, but didn’t say anything. Most men will say something on the first date: “You look nice,” or even “I like that dress.” Something. But he didn’t say a word. He just escorted me over to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for me. Then he went around to his side and slid into the driver’s seat.

I gave him directions for the few blocks we had to drive to get to Mike’s Italian.

“Mike’s?” he said when he heard the name. “People like to name their restaurants after themselves here, don’t they?”

“It works,” I said. “I bet Neil would be doing a lot better with his place if he named it Neil’s. People would feel more comfortable.”

Mike’s was actually a fancier place than its name implied. Fancy for our town anyway. There were white tablecloths, linen napkins, candles, and fresh flowers on the tables.

Well, usually it was one of the fancier places. I hadn’t been in ages, so I didn’t know that, to help business during the week, Mike had started up a Tuesday family night. Kids under five ate for free.

I realized the change when we walked into the restaurant and, instead of the murmur of adult voices, two little boys were doing laps around the tables like it was a track meet. Rising above their yells was the ear-splitting shriek of a baby. What’s more, there was brown paper on the tables instead of white cotton, and crayons in shot glasses instead of fresh flowers and candles.

Timothy looked over at me. “Is this another test like the pumpkin latte?” he asked me.

“It’s not usually like this,” I said. “Why don’t we—”

But before I could finish my sentence, Mike had discovered us at the door.

“I have a very quiet table,” he said immediately, reading the looks on our faces. Then he herded us into the restaurant, arm outstretched, as if in welcome, but I swear it was more blocking tactics to keep us from making a break from the door.

As he ushered us across the room, he said, “And the kids, they have early bedtimes. A lot of the families will be finishing up soon.”

I looked around. Most of them didn’t even have food in front of them yet. But it was too late to escape easily.

Timothy caught my eye. He was laughing, and he shrugged as if to say, “Why not?”

We managed to make it across the dining room and into a little nook that was quieter and a little recessed from the rest of the restaurant.

As we sat down, Mike pulled off the paper tablecloth and returned a minute later with a real tablecloth and two candles. He lit them both with a lighter from his pocket, winked, and disappeared.

Timothy looked across the table at me.

“You are full of surprises,” he said.

“Believe me, this is as much of a surprise to me,” I told him.

“It’s not just the restaurant. You also had this hidden.” And he reached out and lifted a lock of my hair from where it had fallen forward over my shoulder. He brushed it back, saying, “You attract a lot of attention with that hair.”

“That’s why I usually wear it up,” I said. “But I think I’m safe from attention here.”

“Do you?” he asked curiously.

“In a room filled with families and screaming kids, yes.”

“A man doesn’t stop being a man when he gets married and has kids,” Timothy said.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. He spoke with such authority. Of course I’d already checked the ring finger and found it empty. Was he
that
guy—the one who refused to wear a wedding ring? Or, worse, the kind who took it off when he went away on business trips?

My face must have showed something of what I was thinking because he said, “My brother is married and has two kids. That’s how I know.”

I wasn’t used to being read so easily. I thought about whether I could get away with denying I’d been thinking that very thought. But I didn’t have a chance because he went on.

“And, just so you know, I think every man in here watched you as you crossed the room. And there’s one over there to your right who is looking at me like he wants to kill me.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said.

Then I looked over.

It was Dan.

He was sitting at a table with Stacey and his two kids—and Timothy was right. If you could kill someone with a look, Timothy would have been dead at that moment. Dan was so intent on Timothy, he didn’t even notice me looking at him.

“Is there something I should know about?” Timothy asked.

“No,” I said. “Nothing.”

“The wife doesn’t think it’s nothing,” he observed.

I looked back over. Stacey was looking at Dan almost as ferociously as Dan was looking at Timothy. I had the thought that without the social veneer, in a more primitive time, I didn’t know what might have happened.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with me.”

“Mmm,” he said. It was a sound of agreement, but it wasn’t agreement.

He seemed to study me for a second. And the way he looked at me—how can I explain it? It felt like no one had ever actually looked at me before him. I thought they had, but in comparison it felt like they were looking through me or over me or around me. He looked right at me.

His eyes narrowed a bit, considering. Then he said, “Is this false modesty? Or is this real? I have to admit, I can’t tell.”

“It’s not modesty, false or otherwise. It’s reality.”

He snorted as if he didn’t believe me.

There was a reason for that—it turned out I was wrong. Not about the modesty, but about the fight between Stacey and Dan being about me.

Right after we ordered our drinks, I noticed Stacey talking heatedly to Dan. And a moment later she started furiously bundling the baby’s things into a bag. Then she scooped the baby up in her arms, and grabbing Dan Junior’s hand, she hustled them out the door, leaving Dan alone at the table full of barely touched plates of food.

I still didn’t think it had anything to do with me, until I saw Dan get up—which I expected—but instead of following Stacey out the door, he stalked over to our table and stopped right in front of my chair.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dan said to me.

I pushed my chair back. I didn’t like the way he was standing over me.

“Dan, I’m having dinner. Do you mind?”

He seemed to take the question literally. “Yes, I do mind. Do you even know who this guy is?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It should be yours,” Dan said. “What are you thinking, going out with a guy who’s already hit on half the women in this town?”

Timothy spoke then. “What on earth are you talking about?” He sounded calm and reasonable.

“I’m not talking to you,” Dan said, not even turning around.

“No, but you’re talking
about
me,” Timothy said. “And, quite honestly, you’re talking nonsense. I’ve been in this town for a total of about thirty hours. So I have no idea when I might have been seducing all these women. Or who would have told you.”

“You can’t hide things in a small town,” Dan said. “Even if you’re only here for a day. My wife’s good friend said you were all over her yesterday. And now you’re out with Nora tonight.”

All of a sudden something clicked in my brain. I remembered that Jeanette and Stacey had been really good friends in high school.

Timothy caught my eye and smiled.

“Is he talking about who I think he’s talking about?” he asked me.

“I think so.”

“The lion’s cage?”

“At feeding time,” I said.

“Jeanette,” we both said at the same time.

“You know about it, and you still agreed to go out with him?” Dan said, as if personally outraged.

“Dan, he was flirting with her. Flirting isn’t a crime. It doesn’t mean you can’t take someone else out to dinner.”

“He might have told you it was flirting, but it was a lot more than that—I can tell you.”

I looked back over at Timothy.

“After eating my hamburger and your apple pie, I got back in my car and drove to the highway and checked into a motel. I went to the Burger King next door for dinner, and I came to see you first thing this morning.”

I looked back up at Dan. “Not that this is any of your business, but are you saying you heard something different?”

“Well, not . . .” Dan floundered, then tried to recover by asserting angrily, “It was a whole lot more than just innocent flirting. He practically propositioned her.”

The way he said it make it sound as if the crime were attempted murder. Had he forgotten that just last weekend he’d pretty much done exactly that to me in the aisle of the 7-Eleven? And if he hadn’t forgotten, how on earth could he be so righteous?

“Dan, you’re being ridiculous.”

He ignored my words. “I know what you’re doing,” he told me.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to make me jealous.”

I tried again. “Dan, you’re married, and you have two kids. Go home to them, okay?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Suddenly this was familiar. I had totally forgotten that he was like this, but whenever he realized he was losing an argument, he started sounding like a five-year-old. It used to drive me crazy. I felt like I had a child instead of a boyfriend. I had spent a good part of the last three years thinking about him, but I never once remembered this. All the good times, all the wonderful things, yes. But this had been erased from my mind as if it never happened. Why is it that when you sit around thinking about your ex, you don’t remember these things? The things that drove you crazy and now you no longer have to deal with?

“Okay, don’t go home,” I said. “I really don’t care. But let me have my dinner in peace.”

Dan just stood there, glaring at me.

“I believe Nora asked you to leave,” Timothy said. The words were mild, but his tone was not.

Dan finally pivoted to face Timothy, but at that moment Timothy picked up the menu and started reading it. He didn’t even look up at Dan. It’s hard to fight with someone who’s not even looking at you.

Dan stood there for a moment, looking increasingly awkward. Then he turned back to me.

I was expecting . . . I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’t what he did.

He looked at me intently, and he said, “You look beautiful.” Then he turned around and walked away.

I didn’t know what to do with that. I really didn’t.