Chapter 36
Then
I was kissing Michael goodbye at the airport and hoping this would be the last time.
“Tell Daddy bye-bye,”
I told Monica.
Michael took Monica in his arms and kissed her cheeks, telling her to be a good girl for Mommy.
He was leaving for Seattle once again.
Six months ago, he was offered the position of lead research engineer for Boeing.
Yet, I was still living back in Michigan. I asked several times to put the house on the market. But Michael said he wanted to give it a full year before moving for good. Monica was almost four, and Michael was missing out on her growing up.
I watched him leave through security and waved when he looked back.
Each time it became more challenging, and I missed him so much.
Not only that, but what closeness we built up again in Florida was now melting away.
He used to call as soon as he arrived and when his workday was over.
He would talk to Monica, and she couldn’t wait for Daddy to call. Now, his calls were few and far between.
He was still staying at the hotel the company put him up in, and I asked if he started looking for a house.
Occasionally, he would say he checked out a few, but they were overpriced.
Tammy, Ryan, and their new daughter, Casey, were my only companions.
And even then, I felt I wore out my welcome.
As much as I hated to ask, I needed Tammy to watch Monica for at least a week, so I could fly out and surprise Michael.
She was a new mother now and putting a four-year-old in the mix wouldn’t be easy.
But when I returned home from the airport, I called her.
“What’s up? Michael gone?”
“Yes.
I just dropped Michael off at the airport.”
“Are you coming over? I just put a pizza in.”
“No.
I won’t bother you tonight.”
I cringed over what I was about to ask.
“I need a favor, Tammy.”
“Sure.
What’s up?”
“I hate to ask, but could it be possible to take Monica for a few days? I would like to fly out and spend a week with Michael.
Maybe if I’m out there, it will push him to make a decision about moving or not.”
“No problem.
Monica loves playing with Casey.
But I hope the decision is not,”
she said.
Ever since Seattle was brought up, Tammy and I would discuss how we would handle our long-distance friendship.
I didn’t want to leave her behind.
But I didn’t want Michael to go on without us.
“Oh, thank you.
I will call Michael’s hotel and find out when would be a good time.”
“Don’t worry.
We’ll be fine.”
I hung up and counted the hours until Michael’s plane would land, and he’d be at his hotel.
After four hours, I figured he’d be back and called.
There was no answer, so I left a message at the desk.
“Hello, this is Jill Danforth.
I want to leave a message for my husband, Michael Danforth.”
“Yes, Mrs.
Danforth.
Let me check his room number,”
the man said.
I waited for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, he came back and asked.
“Do you know his room number? I don’t have a Michael Danforth listed here.”
“Are you sure? He’s been living there for the last six months.
He’s with Boeing…if that helps?”
“Ah yes,”
he said, and I felt relieved.
“Mr.
Danforth left the hotel three months ago.”
My heart dropped, and I began to shake.
“Well, that can’t be right.
I just took him to the airport.
He should be arriving there anytime.”
“Yes, Miss.
I see where he was registered here with Boeing.
But Mr.
Danforth checked out on May the seventh.
He hasn’t returned, according to our records.”
“Oh…okay. I see.”
I felt the phone slide in slow motion down my face and drop to the floor.
I couldn’t breathe, and my heart was banging against my ribcage.
I could still hear the man on the other end as the phone dangled against the wall as I slid to the floor.
I reached up and set the phone back into its cradle.
Michael was somewhere in Seattle, and I had no way to get ahold of him. I would have to wait until he called—If he called.
My mind went to the darkest place, and Michael was gone on some faraway island with another woman.
Maybe, he was not even at Boeing.
However, wherever he was, he was still paying the bills.
I would have to wait until Monday morning when the bank opened and find out where Michael’s checks were being deposited from.
. . . . .
It was noon, and I was on my lunch hour walking into the bank.
Michael and I had a joint account, so there should be no reason for me not to see activity on it.
The credit card statements had all been ordinary transactions—clothes, dining.
What wasn’t expected was the number of guests that dined on his card.
I hoped it was all business-related.
“Good day, Jill.
What can I do for you?”
“Um…I need a printed-out statement of our checking account.
A few things I can’t remember if I recorded.”
“Sure, no problem.
Have your ID with you?”
Mrs.
Black, the bank teller, asked.
“Yes,”
I said and pulled out my wallet.
“Thanks.”
As she pulled up the account, I started making small talk to avoid sounding suspicious of my husband.
“Michael used to always run the checkbook.
I want to make sure I’m not making any mistakes,”
I said.
She smiled and excused herself.
“I totally get it.
It’s printing out.
I’ll have to go back and get that for you.”
As I waited, I told myself I was paranoid, and all was on the up and up.
But this was Michael I was dealing with.
And I knew what he was capable of.
“Here it is,”
she said walking back.
She handed me the printed-out copy and I folded it up and put it down in my purse.
But I was dying to read it now.
“Thank you,”
I said and smiled politely at her.
Once in the car, I pulled it out and scanned over the transactions.
Men’s clothing stores—seemed appropriate since Michael had to dress the part.
There were lots and lots of dining.
And then I saw a purchase for Bowers Jewelry. The transaction was long before Michael came home. If he bought me jewelry, why didn’t he give it to me?
My hands trembled as I read the list, looking for any clues.
According to the automatic deposits, Michael was still employed with Boeing.
A transaction for seven thousand, six-hundred and eighty-seven dollars was deposited into the account each month.
Michael was making more than he let on.
But it was the withdrawal of half his pay the same day I questioned. Why did he withdraw half his paycheck, and where was it going?
He never called last night to check in, and I would now have to reach him at Boeing.
But I had no extension—only his name.
I wished I didn’t have to go back to work.
I wanted to call him now.
No long-distance phone calls were allowed at the hospital. But then I remembered my phone card. I just had never used it.
Racing now to get back to work, I ran to the nurses’ station and called information for Boeing in Seattle.
“Which plant are you asking for?”
the operator asked.
I didn’t know there was more than one, so I asked for them all and wrote the numbers down.
I thanked her and started with the first number.
“Hello, I’m calling for Michael Danforth’s office.”
I could hear the shakiness in my voice.
“Do you know his extension?”
Of course not.
Why hadn’t he ever given it to me? Why hadn’t I ever asked?
“I don’t. Sorry.”
“Does he work in this plant?”
Again, I didn’t know.
“I’m not sure.
Micheal is in research.
Engineering?”
Knowing so little of his job, I didn’t want to say I was his wife.
“Okay, that would be building five, fourth floor.
Do you have that number, or shall I transfer you?”
“Oh, that would be great if you could.
Thank you.”
“No problem.”
A few seconds later, I was greeted by another operator from Boeing, and I asked for Michael Danforth’s office again.
And again, I didn’t have his extension.
“Let me page him,”
she said and put me on hold.
A few seconds later, Michael answered.
“Hey, Babe, what’s up?”
Babe? He had no idea it was me because I had no way to get ahold of him.
So who did he think was calling?
“Michael?”
“Jill?”
There was a question in his answer.
“Yeah, Michael.
Were you expecting someone else?”
A slight pause.
“No, I figured it was you because I forgot to call home last night.
I’m sorry.
I left a message on the recorder.
But you must have left for work. Is something wrong?”
Everything was wrong, but I didn’t know how to begin.
I didn’t have any proof that Michael was doing something wrong.
But I could ask why he wasn’t at the hotel anymore, and why he left three months ago.
“I called the hotel last night.
They said you moved out three months ago.”
“Yes, that’s correct,”
he said with no hesitation.
“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry.
I should have, but I guess it didn’t seem like a big deal.
Boeing is putting me up in one of their pilot hotels.
They own this hotel and use it for pilots during layovers.
It’s all a budget thing. And, the accommodations are much nicer, I can tell you that.”
He was rambling on so smoothly that I couldn’t accuse him of anything.
“Oh, well, you should have told me.”
“I know, I’m sorry.
How’s Monica?”
“She misses you.
So do I, Michael.”
“I know.
Shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Longer? Longer for what?”
We hadn’t ever put the house on the market.
“Longer until we decide what to do.”
“Do you like the job? It seems to pay well.”
I now had a reason to ask why he withdrew half his paycheck each month.
“Yes, I do.”
“Michael, I was balancing the checkbook, and I saw you withdraw half your pay each month. Why?”
“I’ve put it into a special savings Boeing offers its employees.
It’s to save for a house, Jill.”
Okay.
That was explainable.
“Tammy’s going to watch Monica, so I can come out and spend some time with you.”
“That’s not really necessary, Jill.
I was just home last weekend.
Don’t be wasting your vacation time.
I’ll be coming home again.”
“Michael, I want to.
I want to check out the place.
This decision involves me too.”
There was another slight hesitation.
“Ah…you’re right.
But I can’t promise how much time I’ll be able to spend alone with you.
I work late most nights so I can get my projects done and come home at times.”
“I understand.
I…I would love to see you, Michael.
I love you.”
“Baby, I know you do.
Let me check with the hotel and see if it’s okay for you to stay.
If not, I’ll get us a place of our own.”
He wasn’t going to say he loved me back?
“Okay.
Thank you.
I’ll let you know my flight schedule when I book it.”
“Okay.”
I heard his hand muffle the phone and talk in the background.
“Hey, I have to go.
Let me know when you get here. Bye,”
he said and hung up.
No ‘I love you’ back.
. . . . .
Michael was there, waiting for me at the airport when I walked through the terminal.
It was hard to leave Monica, but I needed to find out some things for myself.
Michael was dressed for work: black slacks, white shirt, sans tie and black suit coat.
As usual, he was devastatingly handsome, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him.
He was tanned, and I wondered where Michael had found time in the sun—since he worked so late.
He smiled and waved me over, and when I walked up to him, I had visions of jumping into his arms and being swirled around.
But no such thing. He simply pecked me on the cheek and said, “Let’s get your baggage.”
Baggage? I would have preferred the word luggage.
But I was still on defense, and he didn’t have a clue.
We grabbed my bag and headed out of the airport.
Michael’s rental car was parked not far, and we pulled from the parking lot.
He hadn’t said much of anything in the last five minutes we’d been together.
“You look nice, Michael.
Is that a new suit?”
Recalling his shopping sprees.
“Yes, I’ve picked up a few new suits.
Oh, we’ll be staying at the Hyatt.
I’ve got us a room for your time here.”
“Oh? We can’t stay at this…pilot hotel?”
“No.
Even though we’re married, it’s for employees and pilots only.
Sorry.
But, this will be more private for us.
No bumping into work colleagues.”
I wanted to see who his colleagues were.
“I’ve taken the rest of the day off so we can spend some time together.
Is there anything in particular you want to do?”
See what you’ve been hiding for six months.
I reached over and kissed his cheek.
“Just be with you.
Why don’t you show me some of the sights and neighborhoods?”
And talk about putting our house on the market.
“Alright.
First, let’s get your baggage put away and I’ll drive you around.” Baggage.
After we dropped off my luggage, Michael took me to a small court where food trucks were lined up.
I found it an odd place for him to suggest lunch when I saw all the exotic dinner places on the credit cards.
I wanted to ask but knew Michael would only give me a suitable excuse, and I wanted to appear to be here on true intentions.
But Michael had no idea of my true intentions.
The view through the valley was quite picturesque with the snowcapped mountains and green hills as we sat on a picnic table enjoying our deli sandwiches.
I noticed Michael was wearing a new watch.
One I hadn’t seen when he was back home a few weeks ago.
I thought now would be a good time to ask about the jewelry purchase.
“Michael, is that a new watch?”
He looked at his wrist and then back to me.
“Yes, my old one broke.”
Sounds reasonable.
“Did you just get it?”
“Yes.
My old one broke on the plane coming back.”
“Where’d you get it?”
He looked at me painstakingly.
“Oh, I don’t know.
I can’t remember.”
He couldn’t remember where he bought a watch two weeks ago.
“I saw a purchase in our account from a Bowers Jewelry store.
Would it be from there?”
His face turned ghostly, and then he acted as if a light was turned on.
“Yes, that’s where I brought it,”
he said.
The purchase was from two months ago.
I didn’t want him to know I was fishing.
“I like it.
I would like to buy my father one.
His birthday is coming up.
I think he would like a nicer watch.
Could you take me there while I’m here?”
“Sure, no problem,”
he said while wiping his mouth with a napkin.
As he chewed, he stared at me, and I was afraid he was reading my suspicious mind.
I needed to play it cool.
I planned to find something out.
So, I kept the conversation at a level of reason.
“Michael, it’s gorgeous here.
I think I would like it.
Maybe while you’re working, I could look at a few houses? And…do you think it’s time to put the house on the market? You never know how long it will take to sell.”
“What about Tammy and your family? I wouldn’t think you would want to leave them.”
“Michael, you’re my husband.
I need to be with you.
Monica needs to be with her father.
Tammy and my family will come to visit.
Why can’t we put the house up for sale?”
He took a deep breath and appeared bothered.
“I don’t want to sell it.
I haven’t been here for a full year.
I still only have my foot in the door.
I need to make sure.”
“Well, we could always just buy another house if we want to come back.”
“And…be stuck with another house here.”
He was stubborn, and I was not backing down on this one.
“What if we rent our house out and rent a house here?”
His eyebrow quirked at the thought.
“Yes, that’s a maybe.
We’ll see.”
Finally, I had some movement where the house was concerned.
But what about Monica and me?
We left, and I told him I wanted to see his place of work.
I wanted to meet his co-workers and visit his office.
“But, I thought you wanted to look at houses?”
he asked.
He was backpedaling, and there was a reason he didn’t want me at his work.
“So, you want to check out some houses? Rent or buy?”
He studied me as he drove, and his eyes went back to the road.
“Michael, is there a reason you don’t want me to see where you work?”
“Of course not, Jill.
It’s just…I’ve taken the day off.
So, why would I want to go back? I’m here with you.
Maybe before you go back.”
I watched his expression as he drove.
Not once had he asked how I had been or how his daughter was.
The hotel had a hot tub, and I suggested we grab a few drinks and check it out.
I brought a new bikini and some sexy lingerie and kept my hands all over him as much as I could.
He seemed skittish, and I wanted to question him about it.
Michael never lacked in the wanting-sex department, and I had to wonder why now.
But now wasn’t the time. I had my plans and must play it down.
I came out of the bathroom with the new bikini, turned around, and shook my ass at him.
“What do you think?”
I was relieved when his brow quirked and a smile formed on his lips.
“Nice,”
he said with a sexy, exciting voice.
“Wow, sometimes I forget what a beautiful body you have.”
A chorus of angels filled my heart with song, and I felt that doubt shifting.
Maybe it was my paranoia that only made things seem suspicious.
But in a few days, I would know the truth.
After the hot tub and a few martinis, Michael made love to me.
And it was different, passionate.
Not his usual fuck hard and talk dirty.
He seemed…scared, unsure, and maybe it was the long distant relationship finally taking a toll on his emotions.
He kissed me hard, and I couldn’t remember the last time Michael kissed me during sex. It was almost a goodbye like we would never see each other again. It was the first time Michael had shown a real passion for me… and it scared me to death.
It was my last day in Seattle, and I told Michael I had a taxi taking me to the airport and for him to go to work.
It was an early flight.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s fine—I hate long goodbyes.
You’ll be home soon, right?”
“Yes.”
But his look told me differently.
Soon, I would find out why.
I wasn’t going back to Michigan.
I booked the last two days at another hotel.
This was my plan. To make him think I was only here for five days when I was here for seven.
Instead of having the taxi take me to the airport or the hotel, I told the taxi driver to drop me off at Avis, where I had reserved a rental car.
After claiming my rental, I checked in at my hotel.
I paced the room, waiting for five o’clock when Michael got off work.
He had driven me by Boeing, so I knew where it was.
But he never gave me a tour.
At five o’clock, I was in position—parked two cars away from Michael’s car.
I watched him walk out of the building and to his car.
I was expecting him to come out with another woman.
But to my surprise, he was alone, and I prayed my intuitions were wrong.
And Michael would never know that I mistrusted him and spied.
His car pulled out, and I stayed close behind, hoping he wouldn’t see me in the car.
He showed me the hotel where the pilots stayed but never took me there again.
I thought this would be the route he would take.
But he didn’t, and twenty minutes later, we pulled into a housing estate with big, gorgeous homes.
What the fuck? Why would he be coming here? But deep down, I knew why.
I was close behind him now, and he turned into a driveway.
I watched the garage door open.
No other car was inside, yet he pulled in to leave room for another.
Who would be coming?
I drove past and turned around in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street.
I slowed next to the curb when I reached the house and parked the car.
My hands were wet with sweat, and I was shaking all over.
I needed to go into that house.
Glancing in the mirror, I checked my appearance, saw the frightened look in my eyes, and exited the car.
My legs felt like jelly as I walked to the door.
I was about to ring the doorbell when I saw Michael walking through the house from the sidelight window.
I checked the door, but the handle was locked.
Peering through the window, I could see the patio door was open to the backyard, and I slowly walked around. Michael was nowhere around, so I padded in and looked around. What was this place? Had he already purchased a home and didn’t want his family with him?
I looked around for a place to hide.
I wanted to witness with my own eyes what I knew would kill me, and I saw a coat closet next to the entry door.
Michael must have been in the shower because I could hear water running from the bedroom.
I padded to the door and snuck inside.
I was also grateful that the door was louvered and not paneled. I could see everything from the inside. I had a front-row seat if this show was to be taking place in the living area. But the floor plan was open to the kitchen and the downstairs. And…completely palatial. How could Michael afford this place while still making the mortgage back home? I would soon find out why when the utility door from the garage opened into the kitchen. In walked a woman—fortyish, professional, and…pretty.
She dropped her designer purse on the counter and bent down to remove her three-hundred-dollars Louboutin’s.
“Michael? I’m home, Babe,”
she yelled.
My heart was thumping so loud.
I knew for sure she could hear it.
I was hyperventilating, and no matter how much I prepared for this moment, my blood was pumping iron.
The thrashing sound through my ears sounded like waterfalls, and I was afraid I would go deaf and not hear what I needed to hear.
Michael came down the stairs—showered, with wet hair, and wearing only three-hundred-dollar designer jeans.
“There you are, Babe,”
she said, pulling him to her tugging on his jeans.
“God, I love the way you look in these.
Could you pour me a glass of wine? I’m going to shower.”
She kissed his lips and then licked down to his naked navel.
“Red?”
Michael asked.
“Yes.
And…did you tell her?”
Michael turned to get the wine, and she demanded.
“Oh, God, Babe.
Please tell me you told her so we can continue this.”
This?
“Okay, not yet.
But I told Jill not to sell the house.
I’m still waiting to cash in my stock to pay it off.”
He had enough stock to pay off our house? But why did he want to pay it off?
“She’ll be well taken care of, Michael.
My God, get it over with.
Daddy said he would represent you pro bono.
It will be the easiest divorce ever.
I mean, what can she argue about? She’ll have a home with no mortgage, child support monthly, and you can use her college debt you paid as leverage.”
My God, I was just a case to them.
How long had they been setting up my fate?
“Cami, we were married when I paid for her college.
Most of it was paid by my tuition reimbursement from Whirlpool.
She doesn’t owe me a thing.”
I stepped out of the closet and walked to where they were standing.
“Hello, Michael.”
I turned to the woman who considered me a case. “Cami.”
“How’d the fuck did she get in here?”
she yelled.
“Jill? What are you doing here? I thought you went home?”
I smirked, forcing myself not to cry.
“Well, I guess we were all wrong.
And by the way, Michael, we are still married.
But it looks as if you’ve forgotten.”
I looked at Cami and saw a necklace around her neck.
“Did Michael buy you that necklace at Bowers?”
Her hand went to the necklace as her fingers smoothed the pendant on her throat.
I wanted to rip it off and stab her in that soft hollow spot, the way I learned in self-defense.
Michael never bought me jewelry—not even a wedding ring.
“Yes, he did.”
I looked back at Michael.
I hoped he recognized all the hurt and betrayal he had caused me all these years.
What was so special about this woman?
“Well, enjoy it.
I guess I paid for half of it.”
I turned to leave and walked toward the front door, but it was still locked, and I struggled with the handle.
Turning the lock one way and then the other, I still couldn’t open the door and slapped the wood.
Michael’s hand appeared above mine.
“I need to put in the code.”
That was it? The code? He flipped a panel next to the door, and after four beeps, I heard the door click.
I opened the door and ran to the car.
Michael chased after me.
“Jill, you’re too upset to drive.
Let me call you a cab.”
This was unbelievable.
But then again, it wasn’t, knowing Michael.
“Oh, now you finally care about my well-being? What about my heart, Michael? What about our marriage?”
“Just let her go, Michael,”
I heard Cami yell from the front door.
“She finally knows now.
It’s over.”
I opened the door to the car and fell in.
Michael held the door open and spoke his last words.
“I’ll be home soon, and we’ll sort this out.”
I looked up at him incredulously.
“The divorce.”
“Looks like you two have it all sorted out.”
He stood back, and I slammed the door.
I started the car, and even though I had no memory of returning to the hotel, I somehow drove through traffic and was parked in front of the building.
I ran through the doors and pressed the button for the third floor—five times, dying for it to open.
I needed Tammy.
I needed her with me right now.
Struggling with the damn keycard because I was inserting it backward, I finally unlocked the door and ran to the phone.
“Hello? Jill?”
“Tammy,”
I cried.
“I need you.”