Читать книгу The Husband She Couldn't Forget - Carmen Green - Страница 8

Melanie stood on the top step of her Atlanta, Georgia, home and wondered how any woman in her right mind could be wearing stockings in this kind of June heat. The tall black woman who’d just rung her doorbell smelled faintly of cigarettes and looked as if she needed one bad.

An odd expression crossed her face, and Melanie looked at her own left hand and jerked it behind her back, embarrassed. She was still holding the Not Pregnant test stick from the pregnancy test she’d just taken, and her flush of disappointment sizzled into nothingness under the bright noon sun.

“I’m sorry, I just heard the door a second ago,” Melanie said, pocketing the apparatus.

“Mrs. Melanie Bishop?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Regret passed over the woman’s face before she tapped Melanie’s arm with a large manila envelope. “You’ve been served.”

Hubert, Boyle and Stein. Divorce attorneys. She’d heard whispers about them in the ladies locker room at the country club her husband had insisted they join. They were the best. Or the worst. Depending on which side of the table you were on.

Her smile felt parched and false.

The woman took the winding steps down to the sidewalk in a hurry but sensing no threat, slowed down as she walked to her old grayish-looking Civic and got in. The car rumbled to life, but she didn’t pull off.

Melanie stared at the envelope, knowing, but not wanting to know, why Deion was having her served.

The massive front door was blue. Deion wasn’t fond of blue, but he hadn’t said he hated blue. She could’ve changed it. Would’ve, had she known.

Maybe they shouldn’t have compromised on the Porsche he’d wanted, and should have gotten it instead of the Lexus SUV.

But where would he put the baby when they had one?

That had been her argument.

Maybe he’d gotten tired of her arguments for everything.

Maybe Deion hated—

“Melanie?”

“Yes?” she said, looking around, unsure of who was calling her. It was the process server.

The woman had leaned over the passenger seat and was looking out the window. “You got a mama?” she called up to her.

“She died seven years ago.” What an odd question coming from a stranger.

“A sister or best friend?”

“A friend.” Him. Only him.

“Go in your house and call her right now. Okay?”

“Okay.” Melanie turned the knob and put her shoulders into pushing the heavy door open. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Inside the house, her sneakers made hush, hush sounds on the nearly black hardwood floors and not for the first time, she felt as if the cool silence was mocking her. She’d only agreed to this house because she’d thought they’d fill it with children. But they’d been trying for five years and she didn’t need telepathy to tell her that the papers in her hand were her expiration notice.

“Dial Deion’s cell phone,” she said aloud to the voice-activated system that controlled everything in the house.

She walked to their bedroom to Deion’s closet and didn’t notice more than the usual amount of clothes gone.

Deion was in New York at a conference for portfolio managers. She could hear his cell ringing, then roll over to voice mail. She sat on the end of their bed.

“This is Deion Bishop. I’m making deals happen, and if you’re ready, I’ll make them happen for you. Leave your name and number.” His voice was still sexy after seven years of being together. She hadn’t tired of it. Would never.

“Honey, we need to talk,” she said, injecting a smile into her voice. “There has to be some way we can make this work. We can talk about anything. Please call me here at home. I love you. Goodbye. End call.”

Two weeks after she was served, Melanie slid her maid’s paycheck through the crack in the front door, but wouldn’t open it all the way. “I don’t need you this week, Juanita. I’m just not feeling well and I don’t want you to catch my germs.”

“Mrs. Bishop, I clean two times a week, every week for five years. Mr. Bishop says so. He doesn’t like his bathroom with any dirt. I’m coming in.”

“No!” Melanie swallowed her tears. “Mr. Bishop isn’t here right now, so there’s no need to worry about his bathroom. Here, I’ll pay you for the entire month. I’ll call you when I need you. Thank you, Juanita.”

“Mrs. Bishop, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, closing out the concerned-looking woman. “Goodbye. I’ll call you. Really. Bye, now.”

“Mrs. Bishop.”

Melanie closed the door and walked back to her bedroom. “Call Deion at work,” she commanded, relieved when she saw Juanita’s car slowly leave the cul-de-sac.

“Good morning, MJM Portfolio Management.”

“This is Melanie Bishop. May I speak to Rod Burke?”

“Just a moment, please.”

At least this time she didn’t get the baffled silence from the receptionist.

“Melanie, it’s Rod. I heard that you’ve been calling.”

“I have, Rod. Deion isn’t home from a trip he left from two weeks ago. I’m worried. He hasn’t answered his cell and I’m not sure where exactly he is.” She’d been weeping so long, her throat was raw. She cleared it, knowing she sounded like a desperate housewife. “Where is he?”

“Melanie, Deion quit working here two weeks ago.”

“What?” Shock and panic and a desperate sense that everything was coming to a close enveloped her. He loved his job and if he quit there, he had much bigger plans.

“Deion walked in one day, said he had an opportunity he couldn’t pass up and handed in his resignation. I wasn’t happy at all, but I couldn’t stop him.”

“When was this?”

“Exactly two weeks ago today.”

“Rod, do you still hold his license?”

“No, I gave it to him. We severed all ties, and he left. Funny thing, though, I thought he was going to try to undercut me and take his top clients, then I’d have recourse to sue him, but he hasn’t touched them.”

Melanie knew better than to say Deion wouldn’t cheat Rod, but that’s how Rod had gotten his start—by avoiding his former firm’s client list.

“Nothing at all, Rod?”

“Not a peep. Mel, I wish I could help, but I’ve got a meeting. I don’t know any more than I’ve told you.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother. Bye,” he said and hung up.

Melanie listened to the dial tone. All communication between her and Rod was probably over forever.

The tears poured from her as she walked from room to room, opening doors, letting her pain fill each space. Open-mouthed she cried out her sorrow in the nursery that would never know the rhapsody of her children’s glee. The guest room that had never experienced the joy of a guest, and the master bedroom that had lost its master and mistress.

Tripping on her slippers, she tumbled down the step in the den and lay there, wishing her pain would end. Why hadn’t he just told her face-to-face it was over?

How could he break her heart this way?

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.

“Mrs. Bishop, why are you crying?”

“Juanita? You’re back.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was worried about you. Come on, get up. I was afraid. This is my husband, Jusef.”

They helped her off the floor and to the sofa. Juanita dispatched her husband to the kitchen for a towel and glass of water. “What’s wrong?”

“He left me and I don’t know why. Just served me with divorce papers weeks ago and he’s gone.”

Juanita rubbed Melanie’s back and closed her eyes. “Let me pray for you.”

Softly in Spanish she prayed for Melanie as Jusef stood in the doorway and waited. When his wife was done, he brought the water. “May I see the papers? I’m in law school.”

“You are? Juanita, I didn’t know.”

Shame filled Melanie because she’d never gotten to know the woman who cleaned her house and had indulged her and Deion’s nonsensical wishes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No. I came here to do my job not to talk, talk, talk. I do enough of that at home. I’m helping Jusef through law school and then he will help me through culinary arts school. We will do well together.”

There was love in this family, Melanie saw, and respect. She wished she’d been able to have that with Deion.

Melanie finished the water and felt better.

“Jusef, the papers are on the dining room table. They’re clear-cut and he even signed them. I’m leaving. I was just walking around thinking about all the dreams that were lost, and I guess I got overwhelmed. This morning I accepted a job in Kentucky.”

“Are you sure you won’t give him a little more time?” Juanita asked, her own eyes sympathetic.

Melanie wiped her tears and accepted Juanita’s hug. “No. I talked to his boss and he said Deion quit his job. I’ve called everyone and nobody’s seen him. Nobody knows anything and if they do, nobody’s saying. He doesn’t want me to find him. It’s time to face reality that he’s gone for good.”

Jusef returned, reading the papers. “You can take what you want. Do you want to contest this?”

“No. He’s being more than generous.”

“He may have more assets.”

“No, I’m not going to fight over anything. I put some things in the car and I shipped my gardening tools and seasonal clothing yesterday.”

Juanita looked around. “You didn’t take anything.”

“I did. Some papers and other smaller things I wanted. I kept the personal things he gave me, but overall I want to make a fresh start. I have money, so I’ll buy whatever I need once I get there. Do you need anything, Juanita?”

“No, ma’am. We are just fine.”

“Juanita, we need a bed. Our bed is twenty-five years old and we are only thirty. Why are you saying no?” Jusef said. “You didn’t learn anything from church on Sunday.”

Melanie smiled for the first time in days. “Jusef, I’ve got just the bed for you.”

The next morning, Melanie felt the tears building, but kept them at bay. She swept up the last of the trash and pulled the garbage can to the curb, waited as the garbage man dumped it, then dragged it back to the garage where she hosed it down. She washed her hands, then walked back down the driveway.

“Mrs. Bishop, you sure you want me to take all of this?”

“Yes, please enjoy everything.”

Melanie looked at Juanita’s overloaded Chevy Trail-blazer. She’d filled the SUV with all the items a new couple would need to start a home. Jusef’s brother had brought his big truck and had carted away the bed this morning after Jusef and Juanita had awakened. They’d been kind enough to stay overnight with her.

Melanie stood by Juanita’s side, then hugged her fiercely. Jusef came down the driveway and handed her the keys. The house was locked up and she couldn’t look back.

“I’ve paid the utilities and taxes. You’re going to come by every two weeks to check on the place and make sure nobody bothers it,” Melanie said to Juanita, looking at the ground.

“That’s right, Mrs. Bishop, I mean, Melanie.”

“Here’s my number if you need me. The alarm company has your number. If you want to quit, move, or whatever, please call me.”

“I won’t quit. You paid me a year’s salary in advance. If he comes back, shall I call you?”

“No. Just tell him all the bills have been paid, and he’s officially divorced.”

Melanie climbed into her car, which had been backed down the driveway by Jusef moments ago. He’d turned the Volvo around and positioned it on the cul-de-sac so she wouldn’t have to look at the house as she drove away.

“You are sure?” Juanita asked.

“Stop, Nita,” Jusef cajoled. “She is ready.”

Melanie took a deep breath, then stuck her left hand out the window, and they grasped it and blessed her. She let go first and drove away, tears blurring her eyes, listening to the recording as she drove, “I’m sorry the number you have reached is not in service or has been temporarily disconnected.”