Winter in Full Bloom (35 page)

I lowered the rearview mirror to gaze at myself. I’d fixed up more than usual and reapplied lipstick too many times to count. I had no idea why I’d gone to so much trouble, except that if Vontella turned out to be the starlet type, I couldn’t stand for the woman to think I was the clichéd housewife who’d let herself go and who tooled around the house in a tattered duster. Yes, I had become that shallow.

Who knew, maybe I had become that kind of housewife. Then again, Marcus didn’t seem to think so. Marcus had even told me I was beautiful.

You’re just stalling, Lily. Get out of the car.
Even though the daylight was fading, Vontella probably saw me from the kitchen window. But my body refused to move. I’d prayed every kind of prayer I knew. I had a level of peace, and yet my hands trembled.

The past visited me as it always did when I didn’t want it to. I remembered Nanny Kate and how she’d coax me out of the car with the promise of ice cream. She’d used that ploy for everything because it worked. It was how she’d gotten me to go on one of our many nature outings. On one of those day trips, Nanny Kate showed me that trees would grow even in the rocks. That nature would fight for life, that it struggled to live. So, when had I stopped fighting to live life to the fullest? When had I become a walking shadow of gloom? I knew the answer in that moment, sitting there in front of Vontella’s house. It was the day I saw the letter from my husband’s lover, hidden inside his desk.

From Vontella.

Even though the promise of ice cream did little to encourage me now, I knew I needed to do this thing. I had to confront Vontella—since I didn’t want my fears to overtake me. I no longer wanted to be a child in search of hiding places. I would do it for Nanny Kate, wherever she was. Perhaps she had her own family now, her own struggles to overcome. Perhaps from time to time she thought of me with fondness, and maybe she would be proud of me as I unlocked the car and pulled the handle.

For all of Nanny Kate’s rallying words and for Mother’s courage to change, I let the door swing open wide. I stepped out, planted my feet on solid ground, and began my march up the walkway toward the house. Now I was committed. No turning back. The woman’s car sat in the driveway. Perhaps she’d just gotten home from work. The house appeared warm and uncomplicated, the landscape tidy. Just the right kind of a house to stage an extramarital affair. Or perhaps it had taken place in a hotel room. Or even my own bed!

Now, Lily.
Not a good way to start. At this rate I would want to wring her pretty little neck right after ringing the doorbell. “Lord, please let my words and meditations be acceptable, because I’m starting to feel villainous about now.” My thoughts were getting as foul as dung.

I had wanted to face this woman ever since that first day I found out about my husband’s affair. I’d just never had the courage until now. Or the stupidity.

But what if the woman was married, and her husband answered the door? What would I do then? Before I could chase that potentially formidable rabbit trail, the door opened. Vontella Quinn, or the woman who surely must be Vontella, sat before me with a puzzled brow. The woman sat because she was in a wheelchair. Now, that was the last thing I would have expected. She wasn’t a glamorous woman but handsome enough with her buxom body and thick mane.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m … well, I’ll say it straight out. I’m Lily Winter.”

“I know who you are.” Surprisingly, the woman didn’t look irritated, but more weary—like a woman with baggage that was too cumbersome to carry.

“You do?”

She nodded. “Your husband showed me a photo of you.”

“He did?” Now why on earth would he do that?

“Yes. I know that must seem odd.”

“It does … seem odd.”

“I was sorry to hear about it … when Richard died,” she said. “I didn’t go to the funeral, as you know.”

“Yes, it was a rough time.” My hands fumbled around until I slid them into my coat pockets. “Look, I realize this is terribly awkward, but would you mind if we had a brief talk? I promise I’m not here to make a scene or anything. I just want to understand things better. After my husband’s death I’m still struggling. I need some closure.”

“And you think talking to me will give you that.”

“Maybe. I don’t know for sure, but I felt it was important enough to try … if you don’t mind.”

“Well, that sounds honest at least.” The woman opened the door and moved her wheelchair back to let me inside. “Come on in. I see no reason not to talk to you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Vontella Quinn, but you probably already know that.”

“Yes, I know.”

She motioned for me to sit down on the couch, which seemed to be the only new piece of furniture in the living room. The rest of the house was a hodgepodge of furnishings, and when I breathed in, my nostrils were accosted by the pungent smells of musty fabric and cooking grease. “He suspected you found out about us. So, I always wondered if you wouldn’t stop by someday to drag me over the coals.”

“No coals, I promise.” I smiled, even though I didn’t feel like it. But it was impossible not to wonder what my husband had seen in this woman. Had I failed our relationship in some way to make him flee into her arms? Was it a midlife crisis, or had he had a moment of weakness? I didn’t take off my coat, since I didn’t intend to stay that long. “I’m sorry if you’ve been in an accident recently.”

She scrubbed her hands along the arms of the wheelchair. “No accident. In the last few months I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, and sometimes it gets bad enough to keep me from walking. Now I use the wheelchair when I’m having a flare-up.”

So the wheelchair was a more recent addition to her life—something Richard had never seen. My hands flailed around; I took a throw pillow and fiddled with the corner tassel. “I’m sorry. It must be painful.”

“It is … very painful.” The woman took a deep draught of me, even though her eyes were at half-mast. “But you didn’t come here to discuss my ailments. In fact, I would think that my suffering would bring you joy. You know, my just deserts and all.”

“I’ll try not to rejoice in your suffering, and if I do, I’m sure I’ll repent about it later.” I smiled, trying to lighten our discussion. If things spiraled into anger, she would mostly likely ask me to leave. That was the first and the last thing I wanted. I guess extramarital affairs made for complicated emotions—like gasoline and lit matches. Bad combo.

“Humph.” Vontella splayed her fingers over her cheek and pursed her ruby-painted lips.

The thought that those lips had kissed my husband’s with passion made me crazy with disgust and anger, so I dismissed the image as best I could. “The thing is … my husband died before we had a chance to talk about this. I guess the biggest question that has been burning a hole in my spirit is … why. I know you two worked together, and it’s not uncommon for men and women to meet at work and form a bond that could, well, blossom into more, is a nice way to put it.”

“If you’re referring to love, that’s not what we had. At least it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh.” I waited for her to go on, but perhaps she felt too embarrassed to talk about the other “l” word—
lust
. She deserved to face her shame. It would be good for her to feel its teeth.

“The affair was centered on God or, more accurately, the absence of Him.”

Curious woman. “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, your husband tried to witness to me. I’m an atheist, and I didn’t appreciate his proselytization at work, although sometimes I admit it was entertaining to watch him try to match wits with me concerning religion. I even felt sorry for him, since I felt like a cat batting a mouse around.”

She raised her chin. “I was on the debate team in college. Anyway, after one of his particularly self-righteous sermonettes I got it in my mind that I would find a way to bring him down. To show him he wasn’t all that righteous after all. I knew one way might be easier than others, since men tend to be … well, thirsty if you know what I mean. And they like their egos massaged. They like to be king of the mountain. And so over time, I meticulously worked from that angle. It became an obsession for me to work the chain, until I found the weakest link in your husband’s scruples.”

That it wasn’t love or even lust on Vontella’s part was a concept I hadn’t considered. Richard had been a handsome man, so I couldn’t imagine that homing in on my husband came from some anti-Christian obsession. “Why was winning so important to you? If all religions mean nothing to you, and you’re confident in your belief, then why did you work so zealously to prove him wrong? Especially since the affair could make you both look unprofessional at work? Seems like a lot of risk just to prove something to yourself.”

“Yes.” Vontella shrugged. “Maybe I was bored too. I needed something to do.”

I tugged on the pillow tassel, nearly snapping it off. Come to think of it, I would like to have torn up all the pillows in her musty little living room and then flung the stuffing around the room—especially the fluff from the pillows that were used during the affair. But then surely my husband hadn’t stayed in this place. “Well, your boredom could have broken up a happy family.”

“So, I see you brought your hot coals after all.” She lifted a tumbler of amber-colored liquid from the end table and took a sip.

“I’m just stating the facts. Isn’t that what you do on a debate team?” I kept my tone respectful and calm, even though I felt like lashing out at her for her actions, which were riddled with foolishness and pride and a hundred other sins conjured up in the darker corners of hell.

Vontella didn’t reply.

Rope in the anger, Lily, and remember why you came.
“One of the reasons I need closure is because I’ve been dating a man who is hoping for a commitment from me. Even though I love this man it’s been difficult to think long-term because of what Richard did.”

She fiddled with her chair, rolling it back and forth. “So, now I’m your shrink?”

“No, but do you mind if I ask how long it took to make my husband give in to this transgression?”

“Almost three years.” Vontella seemed to scrutinize me.

“Really?” Was she joking? But it was certainly not a teasing topic. The woman who sat across from me had to be neurotic.

“If it will make you feel any better, know that it took me longer to turn your husband’s head than it did for any of the others. So, he does get that prize.”

“Others? You mean you’ve done this before?”

“Several times.” Vontella fingered a greeting card, which sat on an end table next to her. The front read “get well” in big pink sparkly letters.

I wanted to say something truly nasty but bit my lip. “So, this is a game to you?”

“
Sure, why not?” Vontella pushed
on the front of the greeting card with her fingernail until it fell over onto the floor. She didn’t bother picking it up.

“Wouldn’t you want to be known in your life for more than that? You have the potential to do good. You were made for so much more than this—”

Vontella gave me a wave like she was swatting at a mosquito. “Please don’t you start with your religious babble. If this is all there is, then what does it matter what I do? All our good or bad deeds will come to nothing. None of it matters, except to get the most out of each day. I have faith only in the here and now. If you want my advice … you should marry this man who wants you. Enjoy him for as long as you can. Before you get bored or he finds—”

“Before he finds another woman like you?” My mouth said it before I could think of anything else.

“Yeah, something like that.” She picked up the glass, clinked the ice around with her finger, and then took a deep swig. Some of the whiskey splashed onto her pantsuit, but the stain it left didn’t seem to ruffle her.

“But if this is all there is… even if the thrill of another sexual conquest doesn’t really matter, I’m surprised you don’t promote suicide.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far, although I’ve considered it for myself, especially now that I’m sometimes confined to this infernal wheelchair. The pain and depression that promise to come with this disease will eventually make me seek that kind of end. But I won’t tell you to take
your
life.”

“Why not?” I lifted my shoulders nonchalantly.

Vontella looked at me. She was trying to figure me out. How much was twaddle and how much might be something else—something real? “Well, you wouldn’t follow my advice anyway.”

“My husband certainly followed your advice.” I had no idea where I was going with the conversation, but I felt edgy and tempestuous and maybe a little bit sorrowful about her plight. I wished Vontella could see beyond the hopeless world she’d created.

“Yes, Richard did take my advice. Not right away, but in the end he did.”

“So, why won’t you suggest that I kill myself?”

Vontella glowered at me, her eyes glistening and her cheeks rosy from the liquor. “You won’t give this up, will you? I don’t know why I won’t advise you to take your life. You’re probably just pulling my leg with all this claptrap, but since I don’t really know what you’re capable of, I have to tell you, you’re scaring me a little.”