Chapter 16
I woke to the sound of pounding on the front door. I threw back the covers, donned my chenille robe and ran down the stairs.
"My God, where were you?" Alex asked when I swung open the door. “I’ve been knocking for five minutes.” He gathered me in his arms, lifting me off the floor. "I thought Irwin carried you off to his netherworld lair."
"I’m fine. I overslept."
He set me down and looked at me. "I'd say. It's eleven o'clock."
"Eleven o'clock?" I said around a yawn.
"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"
I smiled. "Irwin wouldn't hurt me or the children. We came to an understanding. I promised to help him and in return he agreed not to hurt us."
"Uh-huh. And you can take the word of a ghost?" He shook his head. "Your naiveté may be your undoing."
"Maybe." I looked at the brown paper bag in his right hand. "Whatcha got there?"
"I came bearing gifts — hot croissants from MacKay’s Bakery and freshly brewed coffee."
I could easily fall in love with this man.
When I came downstairs after brushing my teeth, washing my face and dressing, he had pillows spread across the Oriental rug and a fire blazing in the hearth.
We devoured the pastries and coffee, then lounged lazily across the carpet.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
I looked up at him and smiled. “You know I did. Did you? Not everyone appreciates winter like I do.”
“I had a good time.”
“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to do things you don’t enjoy just because I like them.”
He ran his hands gently up and down my forearms and looked deeply into my eyes. “Even if I didn’t like barreling down a mountaintop like a whirlwind, or rolling around in the snow with you in my arms, the pleasure I got from your enjoyment would have made it all worthwhile.”
“That’s so sweet.” And maybe a crock. The man knew what to say. I gave him that. But was it true? What would it take to convince me?
Alex stared at the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. “Why don’t you tear down that wall and the wall dividing the kitchen from the dining room?”
I followed the direction of his eyes. “Are they in the way?”
He smiled. “No, but it would open up the space.”
I gave that some thought. “It would.”
He stood. I watched him stride through the hallway, admiring his nice buns and long, lean legs until he disappeared around the corner. A moment later the back door leading to the porch opened and closed.
I stood and stared out the living room window. Snow fell steadily again. Half a foot of powdery snow sat atop the already heavily snow-laden ground, but I couldn’t take delight in the wondrous sight. Our righteous behavior last night disheartened me. It shouldn’t, but it did. I should find relief in the fact that we handled our emotions like responsible adults, not like two curious teenagers with raging hormones. I wanted him like nothing I ever wanted before.
I always played by the rules, and if I didn’t follow advice given to me, I listened. Just for once I wanted to experience the feeling of doing something naughty, something that, when tomorrow came, I would berate myself for, then giggle and tell myself how wicked I’d been.
Since my divorce, I questioned my sexuality. Jonathan found love in another woman’s arms. What did that say about me? That I didn’t satisfy him in bed? Maybe that was it. Alex seemed to want me, though. No, I corrected, he definitely wanted me. The perpendicular swelling between his legs when we laid beneath the pine tree last night told me so. Or maybe it was just sex he desired and nothing more. Men wanted sex from anyone they could get it, didn’t they? It would take someone a lot more worldly than I to know. Maybe I should ask him. I imagined how a conversation like that would go and shuddered. What would he think of me then? That I was a girl masquerading as a woman, that’s what. If only I could react spontaneously in the moment and damn the consequences. But no, I needed to analyze, scrutinize and plunder every ounce of fun out of everything. Well, no more.
Once we took that step, would he come back for more, or would he run in the opposite direction from me? Maybe. I liked his company and hated the thought of ruining what promised to be a wonderful friendship.
“Susan?”
I looked up and realized that Alex had spoken to me. “I’m sorry. I spaced out for a moment.”
“Were you thinking about whether or not to tear down these walls?”
Yes, of course, that’s what I thought about. Uh-huh. “It would open up the space, wouldn’t it?”
He nodded. “You could have a peninsula separating the two areas. It’d give you extra cabinet space.”
A woman could always use extra cabinet space. “And the sofa could stay where it is. A long, rectangular table would look great at its back.” I envisioned it and liked the idea. It would mean less walls to repair and paint, also. That idea appealed to me even more.
“The walls aren’t load-bearing. There wouldn’t be a problem taking them down.”
“So, they don’t serve any purpose except separating the two rooms,” I said more to myself than him.
He stepped back. “So, is it a go?”
“Huh?”
“Up or down?”
What a question to ask when my mind focused on erections. “Down, I guess.” And before I could say another word, he took a swing at the living room wall with the sledgehammer that I never noticed in his hand until now. Dust clouded the air. I coughed and fanned my face. “I’ll get masks.”
I returned and handed him one. After donning the other, I opened the windows.
The sledgehammer disappeared inside the wall again. He yanked and twisted the handle until he freed it. A ragged hole about a foot wide revealed splintered slats that held the plaster in place. I took a step back and watched through clouds of plaster dust as he performed his windup and slammed the hammer against the wall again. Then again and again until every slat was broken and the plaster crumbled to the floor. He was so kind to do this for me.
After a short water break, he repeated the procedure on the opposite side, then I helped him tear off what plaster and slats clung to the walls. Only the studs remained. Once the dust settled, I stepped across the debris-covered floor and looked between the two-by-fours.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I don’t know. A front page of a newspaper back when this house was built or a dollar bill from that time.” I shrugged.
He frowned. “Why would you think those things would be inside the wall?”
“When Jonathan and I built our house, I saw one of the carpenters putting an empty beer bottle between the studs. He said he always left something behind for someone to find later. And ...” I noticed him smiling. “What?”
“He probably said that to distract you from saying anything about him drinking on the job.”
That made sense, more sense than the carpenter’s explanation, for sure. “Oh.” God, I was so gullible.
He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “It’s true, though. Sometimes you do find interesting things between the walls of these old homes. For instance, did you know they used horse hair for insulation back when?”
I watched his face, waiting for those delicious dimples of his to form. They didn’t. “You lie.” I grinned and cocked a hip.
“No, it’s the truth.” He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“That’s probably why houses back then went up like haystacks when they caught fire.”
“Could be.” He bent and picked up the twenty-one ounce hammer that Benjamin insisted I buy to prepare for every contingency. “It would have been interesting, though, to find a newspaper from 1965.”
Something occurred to me. “How do you know when my house was built?”
He looked at me with a quizzical expression. ??
?You told me.”
“I did? When?”
“The night I cooked dinner for you.”
“Right.” Would anyone remember a detail like that? Maybe. Maybe not. I recalled the night I found him leaning lazily against the lamppost staring at my house. Maybe his interest was more than a morbid curiosity in ghosts.
“Now, what do you say we take down these studs and attack the other wall?”
“Go for it.”
When the last stud was removed, I stood back and looked things over. He was right. Removing the walls opened up the space. The area seemed so much larger now.
While he carried the two-by-fours and bags of plaster to the back yard, I mopped the floor. Just as I finished, Jonathan arrived with the children. I rushed to the front entry.
“What’s all this dust?” Jonathan asked, fanning his face in broad, exaggerated motions.
I ignored him. Benjamin dashed past him and leapt into my arms. “I missed you soooo much,” he said against my face.
He hugged me so tight my spine creaked. “I missed you sooo much too, honey.”
"Why's it so dusty in here?" Benjamin fanned the air and coughed.
"Alex and I tore down a couple of walls in the living room."
"Alex's here? Cool. Where is he?"
"He's outside. He'll be back in a moment."
Over his shoulder I looked at Katie trudging up the stairs. “Hi, Katie. I missed you.” She stopped, grunted, but continued to look straight ahead.
“Did you have a good time?”
Another grunt.
“Mawum, you’re hurting me,” Benjamin complained.
“Oh. Sorry.” I released my hold, but kept him close. My daughter took advantage of the moment and scooted up the remaining stairs. We’d talk later. I turned my attention to Benjamin.
“Did you have a good time?”
He cast his eyes downward. “I missed you the whole time.”
I choked back a sob. Benjamin spent the whole weekend unhappy. God, what kind of parents were we to destroy our children’s happy home? Why couldn’t Jonathan continue to pretend to love me until the children were adults? Why couldn’t he have put his son’s and daughter’s needs before his? I would. I did.
The back door opened and closed. Benjamin peered past me, then shook himself free. He dashed through the hallway and only stopped when the toes of his sneakers hit Alex’s. “Alex. My man. Good to see ya.”
They did the hip handshake, the one where they hit knuckles and slapped palms.
“I wish I would’ve been here to help you tear down those walls,” Benjamin said, beaming. “I coulda helped. I know a lot about tearing things down cuz I watch home improvement shows all the time.”
Alex smiled and ruffled Benjamin’s hair. “Next time, okay?”
“Awright.”
They high-fived.
No more tearing down walls for me. I’d probably still sweep up plaster dust in July.
“What wall did you take down?” Benjamin stood on tiptoes and peeked into the living room.
Alex swept his hand to the side. “Come on and I’ll show ya.” He nodded at Jonathan on his way by.
“Yay.” Benjamin followed close behind on his heels.
I stood and turned toward Jonathan, who peered around the corner to see what we'd done in the living room. “How were they?” I asked to get my ex-husband's attention.
He turned, spread his legs and crossed his arms against his chest. I recognized the stance and knew instinctively I wouldn’t like what would come next.
I stood rigid as he told me about our daughter's subterfuge Friday evening.
“I confronted her and she lied. She said the clerk was mistaken. She wasn’t at the store and certainly didn’t get in a car with two boys.”
“Maybe he was mistaken.” For whatever reason — to take my daughter’s side or to ease my guilty conscience — I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Jonathan shook his head. “The clerk knew her by name, said he wanted to ask her out. He was sure it was Katie.”
“And you believed him?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan would know. Police work taught him how to read people. “How did you know in the first place she didn't go to Phoebe’s?”
“She forgot her backpack so I went over there to bring it to her. When Phoebe said Katie hadn't arrived yet, I drove around looking for her, couldn’t find her, so I went into the store to see if anyone had seen her. When I got back to Cindy's, Katie was there. She said she'd changed her mind about spending the night with her friends and took a walk instead." He looked at me. "We can't let her get away with this, Susan. I thought we’d talk to her together.”
“I’ll talk to her.” I didn't want Jonathan involved. Katie rebelled. Jonathan disciplining her would only cause her to rebel more. “Okay?”
He agreed, but the doubt that I could manage it capably was clearly etched in his face. He gave me so little credit. “How’s Cindy?” I didn’t mean to spit her name.
“She’s fine.”
“That’s good.” I didn’t mean to spit those words either. I looked down and tossed an invisible pebble around with my foot.
“I checked out your boyfriend.”
I'd thought he might, but I asked anyway. “Why’d you do that?”
“Since he’s spending time with my children, I want to know everything there is to know about him.”
I doubted that reasoning prompted him to investigate Alex. Jonathan collected ammunition to use against me one day. “Maybe I should check Cindy out.” I tilted my head and pretended deep thought. After a few seconds, I said, “No, wait. There’s no need. I already know. She’s the town mattress. With nothing between the ears but space.”
“Susan.”
He said my name with such pity, my bravado deserted me. No. I would not cower. I took a deep, soothing breath and returned his stare, forcing the same measure of pity in my eyes as he did his. He looked away first. Hooray for me.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“My God, Jonathan.” I bent at the waist and spun in a circle. When I stopped, I could only shake my head.
“Did you know your boyfriend didn’t exist until he was two years old?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
I despised that smug look on his face. How I’d love to scrape it off. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just ... oh, what’s the sense? You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” I threw my arms in the air. It still escaped me what I'd seen in Jonathan beyond his blond-haired-blue-eyed handsomeness.
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, I got your point. You investigated Alex, hoping to find something you could throw in my face. You don’t want to see me happy, and you can’t stand the thought I’m not withering away to nothing without you. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for what you found.”
“Susan.” He took a step toward me. I moved out of his reach. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I crossed my arms against my chest, not believing that for a minute. “Why don’t you just go.”
He shook his head. “Not until you hear what else I found out about — ”
“I don’t want to hear it, Jonathan.” Truthfully, I did, but not from my soon-to-be ex-husband. It would give him too much satisfaction. “Just go, Jonathan.”
“No, I will not. Not until you hear what I have to say.”
“Keep your voice down,” I whispered. “You'll frighten the children.”
Then everything happened so quickly — the sound of rapid footsteps, Benjamin and Alex charging into the front entry, a haze swirling around Jonathan’s head — it seemed to all occur at once. I clutched Benjamin tightly against me.
"Is there a problem here?" Alex directed the question at Jonathan.
The two men stood head to head, like rams ready to charge. Alex’s fists clenched and unclenched at
his sides. I thought he might take a swing at Jonathan. Benjamin couldn't see his father in a fistfight.
Benjamin moved with me when I stepped between them, facing Alex. “Everything’s all right,” I said softly and turned to Jonathan and narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that right?”
A moment passed, then another. He nodded, but kept his gaze on my face. “No, there’s no problem.”
He wasn’t happy. I recognized that. “You’d better go, Jonathan.” I smoothed my hair, sure it stood upright.
Noticing the frightened expression on Benjamin’s face, I leaned in close to him.
“Everything’s all right, sweetie.” I kept my voice calm. “Daddy and I just had a difference of opinion.” I shooed him back to the living room, waited three seconds, then looked up at Jonathan. “Well?”
Without turning, he grabbed hold of the doorknob, then clutched his behind and screamed for Jesus.
Unable to stop myself, I giggled. Irwin was up to his old tricks. “What’s the matter, Jonathan?” I asked sweetly.
He looked at me like I'd caused his pain, then without a word, he left.
Alex looked at me. “What was that about? What happened to him?”
“Irwin likes to hurt him for some reason. You gotta admit the ghost knows an ass when he sees one.”