Chapter 8 That Humiliating Appointment in Winter
That Humiliating Appointment in Winter
Erin
Jeremy
I can’t do this without you.
Two weeks ago, I would’ve leaped over the moon if Jeremy had sent me a text.
He rarely bothered. Appointments—that was his usual excuse.
I couldn’t deny he was busy taking care of his patients, but somehow, he always found time to text his friends on the rare Sundays he came to brunch with Matilda and me.
When had Jeremy stopped being my lover to become the person phoning in his life beside me?
“Mummy!”
I plastered on a smile and waved. Matilda wouldn’t be able to see my tears from the playground. The miniature wooden barn and slide installed by the farm shop were her favorite—when she could reach the top.
She waved from the bottom of the rope ladder. “Watch!” Her sneaker landed on the bottom rung. She easily climbed to about halfway, but her ankle twisted in the rope and flipped her around. She squealed, her tiny hands gripping for dear life.
I pushed off the bench and ran to help her, but Callan appeared from behind the farm shop. “Whoa there!” He dropped a box of seedlings at my feet and raced forward. “Need a boost?”
“No!” She glared at him. “Matilda do it!”
He backed away with his hands up. “Cool.” He leaned his shoulder against the climbing frame. “I’m going to hang out here for a bit to watch, okay? Pirates work with a lot of ropes, you know.”
Wide-eyed, Matilda nodded.
“Don’t encourage her,” I said.
“Why not? I could always do with more buccaneers on my crew.” He winked at me before reaching over to tickle her belly. “Isn’t that right?”
She giggled.
“Cal…” I warned.
His face softened with a lazy grin. I remembered that smile from when we were teenagers, and he’d tease me about jumping last into the river.
“You’re just chicken,” he’d say, and I’d never deny it.
I always needed to think everything over.
The last one in the water… The last one fighting for my marriage…
I glanced at my phone.
Jeremy
I miss you.
Maybe…
I put my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and wandered closer.
The toe of Matilda’s sneaker wiggled, searching for the next rung of the rope ladder. Her bottom lip jutted out. She was stuck again. Her big brown eyes found Callan.
“Try putting your foot here,” he said, pointing to a safe spot. “And reach up big and tall for this one.” He tugged at the rope beside her head to show her the one he meant.
Up and up she went, following Callan’s instructions. She reached the top and declared, “Did it!” before toddling into the barn at the top.
“Thanks,” I said.
He grinned. “This scurvy old seadog is just happy to be useful for once.”
“You’re always good to have around, Cal.”
His smile flattened, and wordless, he bent over to grab the box of plants. The scowl was extra fierce on the scarred side of his face. He was upset about something.
“Everything…okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Bloody hell, Ez… Yeah. Did I just act like a dickhead?” He sighed. “It’s not you…”
“Want to talk about it?”
“You’ve got your own problems.”
“I like to think there’s enough room in our friendship for both of us to have problems.” And forgetting my own for a few minutes would be great. “What’s bothering you?”
“This.” His head jerked at the farm shop.
Confused, I glanced behind me. A fresh coat of paint had livened up the old wood, and I’d peeked through the window yesterday to check out the new displays and the updated cafe menu ahead of the shop reopening in the spring. What was the problem?
“I suppose the pink trimmings are really pink compared to the stained timber you used to have,” I said.
“Bronte picked the color.”
“And here I was thinking it was the dastardly Captain Callan.” I grinned. “It was your idea to freshen it up, though?”
He nodded.
“And to install the playground… And redo the gardens… And have the artist do this adorable mural.” I pointed to the hand-painted strawberries curling up the side of the shop. “You could pop pictures of this place onto a postcard. It’s gorgeous.”
“You really mean that?”
“Bronte will have no problem marketing the hell out of this place in the spring. You’ll have to fight off the tourists stopping by.”
“Why isn’t it enough then?” I’d never seen his blue eyes so helpless—not even after his accident. “Why doesn’t Dad care?”
“He still hasn’t signed over the farm to you?”
Callan shook his head. “Not officially. It feels like no matter what I do… No matter how much I try to prove myself…” He sighed. “It feels like everyone’s just holding their breath waiting for Cole to come back.”
“Cole’s not coming back.”
That comment caught him by surprise. His eyes widened. “Other than me, you’re the only person who’s ever thought that.”
I lifted my shoulder. “He wasn’t happy for a long time before we lost Lila. He only stayed because she wanted to stay. They fought about it a lot before she got sick.”
“I… I didn’t know… Cole and Lila always seemed… I don’t know. Perfect.”
“They were happy together, but…”
“Not happy here?”
“Yeah.”
Callan’s gaze drifted to the rows of budding plants stretching to the barbed-wire fence on the horizon. “I couldn’t imagine not being happy here,” he murmured.
I inched closer and rested my hand on his arm.
That wasn’t a world I could imagine, either.
“Cole took over running the farm out of duty, but you… You do it out of love, Cal. Everyone can see that. Even your father.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Hang in there, okay? Good things are worth waiting for.”
His smile was soft when he agreed, “They sure are.”
Richmond hadn’t changed in the years I’d been gone.
Weathered gray cobblestones still guided the way into town, winding around the sandstone shops that curved over the hill. Only a few tourists braved the crisp winter morning with their knitted hats pulled low, nothing like the swarms of people the town would welcome in the spring.
Matilda, of course, marched past it all.
“This door?” She pointed to the ice cream shop.
“Nope,” I said. “A bit further.”
She huffed but powered on, arms swinging. “This one?” She pointed at the dark green door of the doctor’s clinic.
“That’s the one.”
Excited, she bolted ahead, determined to open the door. She loved being first.
The receptionist flipping through a magazine didn’t seem to mind my over-energized toddler storming inside. She rose from behind the desk and flipped a tumble of blonde curls off her shoulder.
“Who’s this adorable little miss running into my clinic?” she asked.
Tiny footsteps scurried to the reception desk, and my toddler bounced on her tiptoes trying to see over the top. “Matilda!”
“You got an appointment, Miss Matilda?” the receptionist asked. “Or are you here for your mama today?”
Matilda blinked confused eyes at me.
“The appointment’s for me… Erin…” I paused. Should I call myself Erin Easten anymore? I’d made the booking in my married name, but my mouth tripped on the word.
The receptionist handed me a clipboard. At least there would be more time to muddle through impossible thoughts.
“Your mama’s going to fill in my paperwork,” she said to Matilda. “If you can be a good girl and sit real quiet, I’ve got this yummy tray of sweeties you can pick from.” She held up a wooden tray stuffed with bakery treats. “If your mama says it’s okay.”
Matilda’s eyes widened when she saw the cupcakes piled with pink frosting. Awestruck, the tiny imp said, “Mummy say okay,” her hand sneaking toward the tray.
“Just one,” I said. “And what do you say?”
Matilda was already face-first in her cupcake, gobbling the frosting off the top. Big brown eyes lifted. “Thank you!” She smiled sweetly.
The waiting room was deserted. A woman eyed me over the top of her magazine when I found a seat, but I pretended to focus on filling in the paperwork. My finger tapped nervously on the top of the clipboard as I read over the questions.
Marital status
There was no checkbox for “Figuring it out because my husband cheated on me with a woman called Tallulah that I haven’t been able to find online.”
Occupation
The box wasn’t big enough to write, “Unemployed stay-at-home wife missing a husband.”
Emergency contact
A smile burst across my face as I neatly printed Callan’s name and number. That was the easiest part of the form. My gaze drifted out the window to the mountains cradling the valley. He was over there somewhere making sure the crops survived the last weeks of winter.
A pinch of regret tugged at my heart. He shouldn’t have to trudge through his days on his own with the weight of his family’s legacy on his shoulders.
Why hadn’t he settled down with someone?
He used to date… God, it felt like years ago that Lila had last spilled about Callan hooking up with some girl I used to know from high school.
Did the farm keep him too busy now? He must be so lonely.
“Erin?”
My head snapped around. An army of blonde women ran this clinic. A new one, wearing enormous glasses too big for her face, stood smiling from the corridor. Dr. Lola Hughes. Bronte said Lola was “a bit of an odd duck, but really nice.”
“God, sorry!” Flustered, I jumped up from the chair and shoved the clipboard at the receptionist. “I was off in another world. Til, come on.”
I hurried her down the corridor, even though the doctor told me not to worry about it.
Lola waddled a bit like a duck, too. Her belly was enormous!
In the consultation room, she whispered to Matilda that she could play with the toys in the corner and motioned for me to sit before almost collapsing into her chair.
“Sorry for the ungraceful entrance,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was only five months along.”
Five months! She looked ready to pop. “You’re not that big…”
Lola gave me a dubious look. “You sound like my husband.” She laughed. “Anyway. Enough about this little lumberjack.” She smoothed a hand over her belly before adjusting her glasses to switch into doctor mode. “What brought you here today?”
“I, um…” Nerves fluttered in my stomach. Was I really going to admit my truth out loud? “It’s, um…”
Lola scooted her chair closer. A fleeting hand touched my knee. “Take your time.” She held out a tissue.
Was I…crying? I flicked the back of my hand over my eyes and saw the glisten of fresh tears on my skin. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” I grabbed the tissue and dabbed as quickly as I could. “I…”
“We’ve got as long as you need.”
“But the other patients…”
“There’s a reason we offer everyone cupcakes and have all those gossipy magazines.”
I hiccupped a little laugh. “T-thanks. I’m not usually…” So emotional? No, I’d been bottling it up, hadn’t I? I’d been putting on a brave face for everyone. For Matilda. For Callan. Most of all… for myself. “I’m married. Well, I was. No, I am, but… I left.”
“Do you feel safe enough to tell me why you left?”
“My husband had an affair.”
“That must have been incredibly painful to find out.”
“Y-yeah… I was in shock and then angry… And now…” How did I feel? “Confused.”
“You’re not sure what to do next?”
“No. Well, sort of. Me and Til…” I glanced over at where Matilda happily cooed to the baby doll she’d found squished in the bottom of the toy box. “We’re staying with a friend. I’ve got a lawyer. That’s all taken care of, but…”
Lola was quiet, only filling in my silence by handing me a fresh tissue.
“My husband said it only happened once,” I said, “but how can I be sure? And we were still…”
God, how stupid I’d been shamelessly throwing myself at him to keep him happy in the bedroom, knowing now that he hadn’t found me attractive.
Had he been thinking about her all those times?
Or someone else? My heart twisted painfully in my chest. What if there were others?
Not just Tallulah… Maybe a Crystal… or an Ashley…
or one of the other doctors’ wives who actually went to Pilates…
“You’d like a sexual health checkup?” Lola prompted gently.
A flood of tears burst out of me with a loud sob. “No.” I wanted to rewind time to when Jeremy was still faithful. I scrubbed my eyes with the tissue.
Lola rolled her chair closer and said the thoughts screaming to get out of my head.
“You shouldn’t have to get these tests,” she said.
“Your husband shouldn’t have made the choice he did.
That’s not how a man should treat the woman he chose to spend his life with.
” She rested a comforting hand on my arm.
“But this is about protecting yourself. If he’s not man enough to do it, you’ve got to be strong enough to do it yourself. ”
“But I’m not strong.”
“You decided to stay with your friend. You’ve got a lawyer. Your daughter’s thriving and walked in here with all the confidence in the world. Erin, you are strong.”
Maybe the doctor was right. Jeremy had stolen my confidence, but I was sitting here, making choices and planning a future.
I’d held my best friend’s hand as she took her last breath, and I’d saved the big, painful sobs that hurt my chest for when she wouldn’t see them.
I kept going after that, too. Maybe I was stronger than I thought.
But that didn’t stop me from lying on the examination bed with tear-stained eyes glued to the ceiling, my last shred of dignity stripped bare, and humiliation clawing at my chest as the doctor poked and prodded at me as gently as possible.
Matilda never saw me cry. I refused to make my marriage—or my divorce—her burden. She could still love her daddy even if I couldn’t anymore.
When the appointment mercifully ended, the two of us wandered around town, stopped for an ice cream, and laughed as we tried on different silly hats from the display outside the antique shop.
But when I’d safely strapped my daughter into the car seat, and her eyes drooped, I took out my phone and opened the email to my lawyer.
I have no intention of continuing my marriage. Please send Jeremy confirmation of our separation.
I refused to go through an appointment like that ever again. Jeremy would never get a second chance to hurt me.
I hit send.