Chapter 21 #2
Wes laughed as he joined the women, but after a few more songs, Riva could feel her concern for Marcus growing.
Or maybe it was guilt. Had she abandoned him?
What if Kitty was in there making him miserable right now?
Holding him hostage with her bad manners and nonstop mouth?
Was the poor guy too polite to walk away?
Did he need rescuing? Since this was her house, which suggested she was the hostess, was she responsible for the welfare of her guests?
Maybe . . . And so, sneaking away from the happy dance party, she went back inside.
The kitchen was void of people. Other than the muted sound of music outside, it was quiet.
The countertops were a cluttered mess of opened leftovers containers, strewn about and slopped over with random serving spoons and utensils scattered.
How could one person possibly create so much havoc?
And to do it so quickly? Riva was about to tidy the kitchen again, then questioned herself.
Why should she clean up after Kitty? And where was Kitty, anyway? And where was Marcus?
She went out of the kitchen, listening for the sound of voices, but the house remained silent.
She went past the library, then caught a bit of movement from the corner of her eye, but the glass doors were shut and, with no lights on in there and only dusky light from the outside, it was hard to see clearly.
She cracked open a glass door and peered in to find Marcus in one of the old leather club chairs, head bent down as if asleep.
“Marcus?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb him.
His head snapped up. “Oh?” He blinked as she turned on a reading lamp. “I thought you were Kitty.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. I thought you were, uh, napping.” She sat down in the chair across from him.
“Just enjoying a moment of peace.” He rubbed his temples. “Trying to lose a headache.”
“Do you need something for it?”
“No. It’s better now. Just needed a quiet hideout.”
“Hideout? From what?”
“That wild Kitty in the kitchen. She wouldn’t stop talking and complaining and rattling dishes and making messes.
I just couldn’t take it. I’m sure I made her mad when I abandoned her.
I told her I wanted to be alone to think and then I heard her stomp up the stairs.
Man, that girl can make some noise. But I’m sure she’s inebriated.
” He frowned. “What are you going to do about her, Riva?”
Riva leaned back and closed her eyes. “I have no idea.”
“She’s a real piece of work.”
“I know,” she said. “She’s making Laurel crazy.”
“I suppose we should be grateful she didn’t go out there and go after Laurel again. That’s another reason I didn’t want to go back out. I didn’t want to get her riled up enough to stir things up with Laurel. I would’ve just gone home, but I brought Wes tonight.”
“Sounds like you did the right thing with Kitty. And I do think Wes’s enjoying himself. He was even dancing.”
Marcus sat up straighter, causing a book in his lap to slide to the floor. “I sneaked one of your books.” He leaned down to pick it up.
“Which one?”
His smile looked slightly cheesy as he held up an old Louis L’Amour paperback. “Good ole comfort read.”
“Hey, sometimes we need those.”
“I’ll say. I’ve read this one before, but it’s been ages.”
“Did you get very far?”
“Just the first chapter. But then the light faded, and I wanted to rest my eyes.”
“I read some of those after Paul and I first got married. He had a small collection. I think they were his comfort reads too. Especially after law school. He needed an escape.”
“I guess we all do at times.” Marcus almost smiled. “I always liked how L’Amour’s characters were so heroic and yet so human.”
“That’s a good way to describe it. Heroic yet human.”
“Something to aspire to.” His mouth twisted to one side. “You should be out there with your guests and the music. Don’t feel you need to keep me company.”
“I just wanted to make sure that Kitty hadn’t gagged and shackled you and dragged you off to her lair.” Riva laughed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He laughed too. “I don’t know why not. It’s not that far from the truth. She did get mad at me for rejecting her advances just now.”
“I’m sorry about that. I have to figure a way to get her to move out.” She waved a hand. “But I don’t need to trouble you with that.”
For a long moment, they both just sat there. The gentle glow of the reading light illuminating the spines of the books made the room feel cozy. And above, the ceiling fan was slowly rotating, so despite the overly warm day, the temperature was comfortable.
“So tell me, Riva, what do you think of Wes? He really seemed to like you. And, believe me, I know the guy, I’m not exaggerating.
I never saw him warm up to a woman that quickly before.
To be honest, I was hoping he’d be interested in Windy.
I could imagine those two together. Wes seems the kind of man who could use some kind nurturing. Windy would be good for that.”
“Yeah, he told me a bit about his ex and his daughters. Sounds like he might’ve gotten the short end of the stick.”
“That’s how he and I became friends. We met at church and became golf buddies. Then we discovered we’d been through similar experiences with our wives. Oh, Livvie didn’t die like Anne did, but she left Wes high and dry in a similar way.”
Riva just nodded. “Both sound hard.”
“Yeah. A bad marriage leaves some wounds, for sure.”
“I appreciate how Wes takes his share of responsibility for his failed marriage. Not all guys would do that.”
Marcus glanced at the book in his lap, fiddling with the bent corner of the cover and then looked up. “I realize I’m partly to blame for Anne’s discrepancies too,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t the most attentive husband.”
“I think you told me that before,” she said. “I don’t know if there’s anyone who’s been married or is still married who hasn’t made mistakes. Even if you’re heroic, you’re still human, right?” She smiled.
He barely nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
“I think we all need to move on. We need to remember to forgive ourselves and to forgive others . . . like Jesus taught. I don’t think we need to keep dragging ourselves through it or carry that old baggage with us.
” She told him about drumming with Windy and how freeing and invigorating it had been when she finally allowed herself to move forward.
“I had kind of an aha moment . . . when I realized that my inability to participate and enjoy myself socially was related to my last two years of caring for Paul, watching him, well, dying, I felt like a giant light bulb went on.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Well, like I said, Paul was dying. There was no getting around it. Every day I could see him getting weaker, having more pain, steadily fading away . . . I knew he was leaving me.” She took in a steadying breath. “I think in a way, I sort of began to go with him. Does that even make sense?”
Marcus leaned forward with interest. “I think it’s beginning to, but can you elaborate a little?”
She shrugged. She actually wanted to minimize the experience.
But at the same time, it was a very big deal to her.
She wanted to be open about it. “While I was drumming with all those women, I began to feel like I was waking up. Like it was time to return to the land of the living. But I had to make a choice. I needed to be willing to do more than just exist. I needed to fully live life again. For some reason, beating on a drum helped. Sure, it was only one small step, but it took me out of my comfort zone, and I really wanted it. As strange as it sounds to hear myself say this, I’m ready to embrace life now.
” She considered this. “Okay, embrace might be too strong a verb at the moment. I know myself too well. But I do want to participate . . . to learn to embrace. I don’t want to be shut down or partially dead. I really do want to live now.”
Was it her imagination or were his eyes glistening? They both just sat for a bit and then he spoke. “Thank you for sharing that. I needed to hear those words.”
“I guess I needed to say them,” she confessed.
He nodded with a thoughtful expression. Perhaps he was just soaking it in.
But realizing neither of them were speaking now, she got uncomfortable.
Was it wrong to be sitting in the same room that she and Paul had so happily occupied together—with another man?
Apparently old habits, and thought patterns, really did die hard.
But she reminded herself that she was living a new life now, and the awkwardness evaporated.
She sighed in relief. Baby steps, she told herself.
Just keep moving forward . . . one small step at a time.