His Other Wife Read online

  His Other Wife

  Deborah Bedford

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  To those who need to look forward instead of looking back, to the ones looking for light at the end of the tunnel.

  To the ones who want to run from the places that hurt them.

  And they rose up in the morning early, and worshipped before the LORD, and returned, and came to their house to Ramah: and Elkanah knew Hannah his wife; and the LORD remembered her.

  1 Samuel 1:19

  I want to die before my wife, and the reason is this:

  If it is true that when you die, your soul goes up to judgment,

  I don’t want my wife up there ahead of me to tell them things.

  Bill Cosby

  Prologue

  Boo never moved until Hilary got up. Eric went about his same routine every morning; he rolled out when the clock radio turned itself on just after five, rummaged through the drawer in search of athletic socks, tugged on his sweatpants, stuck his arms through the sleeves of the T-shirt that was worn so thin you could have read a newspaper through it, and headed downstairs to work out on his home gym. For almost a half hour, Hilary could hear the clank of the barbell returning to the weight bench, the whir of the pulley as Eric worked the leg press, the final silence when she knew he’d be doing chin-ups on the bar that hung from the doorway. And still the dog waited for her, his head resting atop his two front paws, one eyebrow cocked in a question over his liquid eyes. When she adjusted the pillow, he lifted his head and cocked one ear.

  “I don’t know why he can’t just go out for a run.” Hilary covered her head with the pillow. “Then he could take you with him.”

  Boo, a Jack Russell terrier with a brown spot around one eye and a black ear, didn’t move a muscle.

  Hilary swung her legs to the floor. “Why does it always have to be me?”

  The dog was gone in a shot. He barreled out of the bedroom before Hilary could even stand. He tore down the stairs, tumbling over himself with a thunderous clamor that could have come from a pack of dogs five times his size. He danced circles around his empty food bowl. Hilary came behind him much slower, cinching her terry robe around her waist.

  “Calm down,” she said, yawning herself awake. She opened the slider so he could go outside and sniff around the backyard. “How can anything have that much energy this early?” She scooped kibble from the bag in the pantry and ran fresh water into another and set both bowls on the floor. Then she opened the slider where Boo was already impatiently making nose prints against the glass. “Now,” she said as he started eating. “See? You’re going to live.”

  Hilary reached for the carafe on the coffeemaker and stopped short. It was empty. She’d forgotten to put in the grounds and set the timer the night before. As she reached for the French Roast overhead, she noticed the clock on the microwave and did a double take. “Oh no.” She gave up on the coffee and headed toward the stairs. She’d have to pick up a cup at the drive-through near the hospital. “I’m glad somebody gets breakfast this morning.” She gave a rueful glance toward the dog.

  She hadn’t heard Eric finish his workout and go upstairs, but there was water spraying in the shower. Good thing they’d built the bathroom with room for two. Hilary rapped on the door, said “May I come in?” and walked in without waiting for his answer. She never waited for his answer. She always knew it would be okay.

  Hilary unfogged a spot in the mirror with a towel. “Good morning,” she said as she tucked strands of blond hair behind her ears and made a critical exam of her face. “Sleep well?” She set about polishing her teeth with the Sonicare.

  Soap thudded on the shower floor. Eric must have dropped it.

  “Can you make sure Seth makes it to the bus?” she asked. “I’ve got to get going.”

  She expected Eric’s chatty voice from behind the glass, teasing her about being late again. She was always turning off her alarm. But he said nothing.

  “Eric?”

  “Yes. I’ll take care of it.”

  She heard something in his voice. “Everything okay, Eric?”

  “You getting in the shower?” he asked. “I’ll leave the water running for you.”

  “I will in a minute. Let me make sure Seth’s up.”

  “I’ll take care of Seth,” he said as he swung the door open. “Here. I’m out. You get in.” Eric grabbed a towel to scrub his hair dry and stepped past her.

  Their arms brushed as Hilary hung up her robe. Hilary shot him a smile. Here they were after a fifteen-year marriage and she still melted at the sight of him. Water ran in rivulets down his chest. Wet hair clung to his forearms in dark curls. She pressed her lips against his damp shoulder. He smelled like soap and aftershave. “Hmm-mm,” she said, closing her eyes. “I love the smell of man in the morning. Minty fresh.”

  It was the perfect opening. He could have used it to tease her. But what about the smell of a man in the afternoon? Only he didn’t.

  Hilary stepped into the flow and let the water drum her shoulders. She raised her face to the stream. She felt so lucky. God had blessed her with so much. She had one great kid, a good job, a satisfying marriage. Never mind the days when things got stressful in PCU. As she soaped herself up and rinsed herself off, as she ran a razor up her legs and slathered on lotion, she thought how nice it felt to be secure with a man who loved her, to have a job where she helped people.

  “I didn’t make coffee —” she called to Eric as she stepped onto the bath mat. But he would already have gone to the kitchen. He would have already found the empty carafe and would be laughing at her for it. Forgot to turn it on again, did you, Hil? But when Hilary slipped her arms into the robe again and carried the used towels into the bedroom, she found him still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to yell about the coffee. I thought you’d be downstairs.”

  He’d already dressed. He’d pulled on his pinstripe slacks and found the black shirt she’d given him for Christmas last year. He usually never got ready for the office until he made his energy shake in the mornings. He was on his vitamin B12 kick again. “Did you wake Seth up yet?”

  “Hilary.” He gestured to the bed beside him. His eyes, which never left hers, held something unfathomable. “Will you stop?”

  She stared at him, uncertain. “Stop what?”

  “Running around. Come sit down for a minute.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “But Seth needs to be up.”

  “Hilary, please.”

  “Something wrong?” In spite of all the changes this morning, the way Eric had acted different in the shower, she hadn’t quite spent the time to decipher it. Here they were starting their day together, rushing on with their routines, getting Seth off to middle school, going on with their lives. Why would Eric act so somber?

  “Yes. There’s something wrong.”

  “What is it?”

  “We have to talk.”

  A sense of foreboding began to creep up Hilary’s limbs. Her skin had gone cold. What was this? “Can’t it wait until tonight, Eric? I’ll be late.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “It can’t wait.”

  “You can’t be late, either.” It took a quarter of an hour for him to get to his office at the investment firm in the Loop, a little less if he took the L.

  “That doesn’t matter right now.”

  “The traffic —”

  “I’ve waited too long as it is.”

  She dropped the laundry on the floor and drew the robe tighter around her
. Her hair was still wet. She was freezing. “Is it money?” she asked. “I know I put the tires on the credit card, but it’s hard making things balance the month insurance is due.”

  “It isn’t money,” and, for a moment, Hilary felt relieved as she stood before him. “Well, what is it then?”

  “Put something on.” That was when her fear started, the moment he spoke and, at the same time, looked away. “Get dressed.”

  “But you said you wanted to talk. You want me to get dressed now?”

  “I do, Hilary. Yes.”

  She’d asked all those casual questions in the bathroom, the same script she followed every day. They never thought about the things they said to each other. May I come in? Sleep well? Everything okay? Only now did she realize. All those questions she’d asked, and he’d never answered.

  Eric found her something to wear in the closet. Hilary had a dozen scrubs or more; she needed them for the long hours she spent on the PCU floor. Eric didn’t thumb through them; he grabbed the first one he came to. She’d worn it yesterday, the blue shirt with smiling sunflowers. Her security badge still dangled from a Tweety Bird clip on the pocket. Bold letters read: Hilary Wynn, R.N. The yellow sun faces leered at her. “What is this, Eric? Just tell me.”

  Eric drew a deep breath. “It’s not easy.”

  She reached for his hand. “Should it be? Is this something you want me to make easy for you?” Outside, the garbage truck turned onto their street. It picked up speed, its engine crescendoing as it roared toward the neighbor’s driveway. Brakes hissed. A horrific clatter came as the hydraulic fork reached for a container, lifted it, and rained its contents into the hopper.

  Eric squared his shoulders and said, “I’m seeing someone.”

  Hilary stared at him. “Seeing someone? What? Someone? Who, someone? A doctor? A financial advisor?” It took her that long to begin unraveling his meaning. “What are you telling me, Eric? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m seeing someone,” he said again.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  “A woman,” he clarified.

  A hundred emotions ran through her at once. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. She must have heard wrong. She reacted as if she’d been burned, jerking her hand from him before her nerves signaled pain. “A woman,” she repeated, as if she had to say it herself to hear it. “You’re having an affair?”

  For the first time, he didn’t speak.

  “Eric, what are you saying?” Deny it! she wanted to scream. Tell me it’s a mistake. Tell me you aren’t serious.

  “I never meant it to get this far.”

  The air had gone out of the atmosphere. Hilary couldn’t breathe. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “This is how you start my day? You’re telling me this?” She could still be dreaming. She could wake up and find Eric sleeping beside her. The alarm would sound and she’d stagger out of bed and Boo would be dancing at her feet, waiting for his breakfast. The breath would rush from her lungs; she’d go limp with relief.

  “There’s no way else to say it,” Eric said. “I’m sorry.”

  For long seconds she couldn’t speak. If she tried, words might betray her. Words, spilling to the ground like blood spills from a wound. Her ears buzzed. Her hands started shaking.

  “Hilary, I —”

  “Don’t say anything more, Eric,” she said. “Please just stop.”

  It didn’t make sense. Eric was the man who’d loved her, who’d actually gotten permission from her father before he’d asked her to marry him, who’d positioned an engagement ring precariously in whipped cream and hot chocolate after they’d gone skating in Grant Park. He was the man who had held her after her father died. He was the one who’d placed his hand over her belly to feel the baby move, who’d wiggled her stomach and talked to unborn Seth in “Mister Ed” horse voices, who’d brought her Jolly Rancher candies and let her squeeze his hand during labor and breathed cleansing breaths with her when the contractions got too fierce to bear. What was he thinking, that he could throw it away?

  “That’s all you have to say? That you’re sorry?” Later Hilary would be furious. Anger would grow inside her like a geyser, ready to erupt. But for now she could only swim through a fog with everything upside down. She had no idea when they’d started living this lie.

  The neighbors were coming awake. Hilary glanced out the window to see the Hartmans, the retired couple who had lived on this street for the past two decades, out for their morning stroll. They’d always been the sweetest couple around, making sure everyone knew when their grandchildren would be coming for a visit. As they walked, the elderly woman curled her fingers around the crook of her husband’s elbow and gazed up at him. Mr. Hartman cocked his head and smiled at something she said. Hilary had thought she and Eric would grow old together like the Hartmans, celebrating milestones, amazing their friends with their exemplary marriage.

  “Do you want to tell me more?” she asked, her voice a study in control. “Or do you want me to ask questions?”

  She had trusted him. This couldn’t be the man she’d pledged her life to, the one who’d promised to stand beside her through better or worse, through richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death parted them. Eric wasn’t this man anymore. He was a stranger. Sure, they’d had their rough spots, everyone did, times when one or the other of them had been bored or unhappy, but they’d been honest with each other, hadn’t they? Sure, there had been times when she’d worked the long night shifts at the hospital. That wasn’t any reason to break a lifelong promise, to find someone else, was it? Her fists ached to pummel him. She wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting her.

  “Mom!” Seth’s voice came from the family room. “I’ll get detention if I’m late again. How come nobody woke me up?”

  Oh, Father, she prayed. What do you want from me? How do I respond? How do I stay sane and guard my heart and do the right thing?

  Hilary adjusted her badge and locked eyes with Eric. There were so many things she would find out later, who the other woman was, how she and Eric had met, how they’d stolen time to be together. But now Hilary asked the only question that mattered.

  “This other woman. Do you love her?” she asked.

  When he nodded and whispered, “Yes,” she felt like she’d been shoved to the ground.

  Do I fight for this marriage? Do I try to work through this, Lord? Or do you want me to quietly let it go?

  Downstairs she heard Seth rummaging through the pantry in search of the Honey Nut Cheerios. Seconds later she heard the refrigerator door slam shut and the chair scrape on the kitchen floor.

  Because I don’t think I can do either one.

  He said, “Hilary. I want to marry her.”

  She stared at him, the shock beginning to ebb. Pain knifed her chest.

  “Pam and I have wasted enough time. We’d like to do this fast.”

  “If you’re asking for a divorce,” Hilary said, her voice even, “you’ll have to file for it. I want everyone to know this isn’t coming from me.”

  “I’ve already started the process with my lawyer.” He turned toward the door as if he couldn’t face her for this. “The papers will be served on Thursday.”

  Oh, Eric, she wanted to cry. Isn’t there some way to fix it? Isn’t there something to make you forget her? Something to make you see what you’re giving away? But Hilary had too much pride to beg. “You’re leaving the house,” she said. “I’m not.”

  “We’re dividing the house,” he said, finding something fascinating on the ceiling. “It’ll have to be sold.”

  She didn’t flinch. She took a step toward him. “I’ll have custody of Seth. I’m leaving you no choice in that.”

  “That’s yet to be negotiated, Hilary.”

  All this time the little dog had been cowering at the foot of the bed, paws beside his ears, fearful eyes raised toward Eric. “Is it?” Hilary asked. “Is that what our life is now, Eric? Something to be negotiated?”
/>   “It’s the best I can do.”

  She sat on the bed and picked up Boo, holding the dog against her like a shield. “It isn’t,” she said. “It isn’t, Eric. It isn’t the best for anybody.”

  “It is for me,” he said.

  “So it’s all about you, is it? The rest of us don’t matter, I suppose. Especially your son.”

  “We have to leave Seth out of this,” Eric said. “I refuse to make this a power struggle about my son. For Seth’s sake, I expect that we can be civil.”

  “Oh, of course we’ll be civil, Eric,” Hilary whispered, and, to her horror, tears leaked from her eyes. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “And no matter how you’d like to twist this around on me, it isn’t a power struggle. It’s what you’re teaching him. That he isn’t important enough to you. That he’s easy to leave.”

  Eric said, “He isn’t the one I’m leaving.”

  Her tears came unbidden now. There was nothing she could do to stop the swirling storm, the emptiness. With jaw clenched and hands knotted into fists, Hilary stood her ground and watched her husband go, taking with him the marriage she’d always placed so much faith in, the man she’d never thought could betray her, the man she thought would never desert his family, leaving them stranded and alone.

  Eric had met Pamela when she’d come to decorate his office. He and Hilary hadn’t been talking much those days, that month, that year. She’d been coming to terms with her doctor’s report that she couldn’t have the second child they’d planned on, that Seth would be their only one.

  When Eric had wanted to talk about it, Hilary wouldn’t hear him. She’d be running out the door with her nurse’s bag in hand for another long shift at the hospital.

  When he’d wanted to admit to her that he felt vague guilt because he’d been the one who’d wanted to wait, to get further in his career before they had another financial drain, Hilary had been off to another church activity or buying oranges to take to Seth’s Little League game.

  Their conversations had run the gamut from, Did you feed the dog this morning? to, Weren’t you going to make a tax payment? Did you do that?