Stardust Miracle Page 5

  She frowned. A month after the funeral for Jim’s father, when his mother left town to live with a friend, his mother’s expression had been alive, so different from the closed-up, unhappy woman Becky had been used to. As if her husband’s death had set her free.

  Now Becky was living with her sister. And she felt more alive – and more scared – than since she married Jim sixteen years ago. History was repeating itself, though her stay with Sarah’s family would be temporary.

  She stood back to allow Jim to enter, and Sarah groaned. Becky raised an eyebrow at Sarah. “I’m only letting him in because he asked. After all, he could’ve just walked in.”

  “He’s smart enough to know you would walk right out if he did.” Sarah glowered at him. “Plus, you’ve got the pictures.” She glowered harder. “If that’s why you came, you wasted your time. Becky has her cell phone well hidden. And I have the pictures on mine, too. And Becky opened up a new email account. One you’ll never access.”

  Jim stepped inside. “I deserve your contempt.” He turned to Becky, his brow creased. “And your anger.”

  “I’m not arguing with you.” She still held onto the door. Sarah came over and put her arm around her shoulders. Knowing that Sarah had her back, Becky let go of the door.

  “You mind leaving me with my wife for a few minutes?” Jim asked Sarah.

  “Yes, I do mind.”

  Becky wanted to laugh but it would hurt her stomach. “Jim, you’re wasting your time. I’m not coming back to you or this place. I’m not deleting the photos. I don’t know what else there is to say to you.”

  “I screwed this up, didn’t I?”

  “Big time. Surely you don’t expect me to disagree?”

  “And don’t expect her to change her mind,” Sarah said.

  “I already know that.” He kept his gaze on Becky’s face, his mouth pressed tight and radiating pain, as if he were hurting bad.

  Another woman might’ve been flattered. Instead, Becky stared back, not impressed. She was too tired to care. Too numb. She just wanted him to leave. She just wanted to pack up so she could go back to Sarah’s where she could eat some chocolate and figure out what she needed to do to get on with her life.

  “I just wanted to say I was sorry. I tried to be a good husband and I failed. I failed you and I failed myself.”

  Out of nowhere, Becky’s eyes prickled. She blinked hard. No tears. She would not cry in front of him.

  “I’ve been thinking about our marriage,” she said. In between running to the bathroom and sleeping and feeling like she never wanted to eat food again, she’d thought about a lot of depressing stuff. Most of it had to do with Jim and her dad.

  “You should sit down,” Sarah said to her.

  Becky glanced at her. “I won’t be long.” She faced Jim again. “Our marriage wasn’t good from the start. I realize now that I married you because it’s what my father wanted. And you married me because it’s what he wanted.”

  “Maybe that was part of it.”

  “A big part of it.”

  “Not all of it. I did love you.” He paused and stared into her eyes.

  She looked right back into his. Not saying anything. If he were waiting for her to say she loved him back, he’d be waiting for a long, long time.

  Maybe she had loved him. She couldn’t remember. But their marriage held only a tepid kind of love. Nothing like Sarah’s marriage with Marsh. Their love was a Romeo and Juliet kind of love. Like a teapot steaming so hot it whistled. She and Jim, on the other hand, were like lukewarm water that never boiled.

  Jim still didn’t say anything. Just waited.

  Sarah’s hand on Becky’s shoulder tightened, and Becky could feel her getting pissed.

  “Not enough,” Becky said quietly, only because if she didn’t, Sarah might slug him. “You didn’t love me enough.”

  “You’re right.” He sucked his lips in and then out, and bobbed his head. “Not enough.”

  “And you’re still an asshole,” Becky said.

  He laughed, looking surprised. Then his laughter died and his forehead furrowed. “I was a jerk. I admit it. I already admitted all of it to the congregation.”

  “Of course you did,” Sarah said. “Yet somehow you made them feel it was Becky’s fault.”

  “I told them I was unfaithful and my wife left me. I didn’t say anything more.”

  “They wanted to believe it was my fault.” Becky glanced at Sarah. “He’s their spiritual leader, after all. They need to continue to believe in him.”

  “I won’t stand in your way,” Jim said. “I’ll split our finances.”

  “She should get more.” Sarah let go of Becky and took a step closer to him. “You still live in this house rent free. She was working at the church since you were married. Not making any social security. Not making any wages. Not anything.”

  Jim eyebrows tipped down into a frown, and Becky could practically see his brain cells firing. “I already took half the money out and left half for you. My lawyer thought I was being generous. We’ve saved quite a bit. And it’s not like we have kids.”

  Becky stiffened. He already talked to a lawyer? Already took money out of their joint account?

  But none of it hurt like his last sentence, about not having kids.

  She wanted to hurt him back. “Get out, Jim.”

  “Becky—”

  “Out.” She pointed to the door.

  He gave her his ‘you always make a big fuss about everything’ look, then shrugged and left.

  As the door closed behind him, Becky said, “Asshole.”

  “I want to hurt him,” Sarah said.

  “Me, too.”

  “When we get home, you’re calling a lawyer. I know a good one.”

  Becky nodded, feeling sick again. “Let’s pack and get out of here.”

  In the bedroom, Sarah told her to sit and she would pack.

  “I can’t let you do this,” Becky said.

  Sarah gave her a stern frown. “Hey, you were the one who raised me. This is just a small thing I’m doing in return.”

  “I’m living in your house.”

  “You changed my diapers.”

  “No, Mom did that. By the time she got too sick to watch you, you were out of diapers.”

  Sarah disappeared into the walk-in closet though her voice carried to Becky. “I think I still must’ve done a few disgusting things.”

  Becky laughed and lay on her bed. Her mind whirled and so did the ceiling. She hoped she didn’t get sick...

  The next thing she knew, Sarah woke her. “I think I’ve got all your personal stuff. It’s in the car.” She pointed a finger at Becky’s face, stabbing the air. “And don’t say I should’ve waited for you. Is there anything else here?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “I didn’t take dishes or anything.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “He’s keeping the furniture, too. Tell your lawyer Jim needs to reimburse you for your half of everything.”

  Becky laughed but it was harsh and joyless.

  Sarah helped her off the bed, as if Becky were an invalid.

  Fitting, because she felt old and decrepit, with no more energy than a zombie.

  When they got outside, Becky stopped and looked back. “I won’t miss that home or anything in it.”

  “Including the asshole.”

  “Most of all, the asshole.” She turned to the car and hobbled toward it.

  “Men drive women crazy,” Sarah said. “They just do.”

  Becky laughed, and already felt better. Not happy yet, but as if she could see happiness ahead of her.

  It wasn’t the a-miracle-is-about-to-happen feeling, though. And she wondered if the sparkles at the church that Sunday before her life as she’d known it had fallen apart had meant...anything.

  Chapter Nine

  Four days later, Becky drove back to Sarah’s from the big city of Wausau, feeling happy and sad, scared and brave.
Her mood seesawed by the second. The sky was bright and shiny, and so was her future.

  Maybe.

  And on the passenger car seat were the papers and something else. Something that sent her heart thumping like a scared rabbit’s.

  Her father would be furious if he knew what she planned. She felt as if someone would arrest her any moment.

  But of course, they wouldn’t. It was her money. She could do whatever she wanted with it.

  When she pulled into the driveway, Marsh was heading out. He stopped the van and stuck his head out of the window.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “My lawyer is filing the papers.” Becky heard the perkiness in her voice and winced. Her people-pleasing tendencies needed to stop. She really wasn’t perky, and the person she wanted to please from now on was herself. She could even be a little snarky – at least in her thoughts.

  Maybe she should put that on a resume. All she needed now was to find a job that required sarcasm and she was set.

  “How long before you lose the loser?” Marsh asked.

  She laughed too loudly but for once didn’t stop herself. Maybe she was really the kind of person who laughed too loud. There were worse crimes than laughter. And what Marsh said deserved a super-loud laugh. He and Sarah were the only ones in town who would call Jim a loser.

  “Four months, if Jim doesn’t contest anything.” And he wouldn’t. She had the photos as insurance. But she felt free already. Freer than she’d felt for a long time. As if she’d been a bird in a cage and now the cage door was open.

  And she was teetering on the edge, seesawing, a few strings still pulling on her, saying, ‘Be careful or you’re going to screw this up, too.’

  “Great.” Marsh nodded, a distracted look on his face, already thinking of someone, something or somewhere else. He was a man who’d settled everything in his mind and was ready to go on his way. Her father had that look, and so did Jim. If God were really a man, she’d bet He would have that look, too.

  “Before you go,” she said, “I’ve got something for you.”

  “Yeah?” He looked forward. Still mentally somewhere else.

  She glanced in the rear view mirror but didn’t see anything at the Webber’s house across the street. The kids should be at school, Joy and Kevin at work. Sarah had driven to a gallery in Merrill to get appraisals of a few paintings Marsh had bought a couple days before. Becky had promised to be back when Cody got home from school, glad to do something for them.

  No one else lived close enough to see what she was going to do.

  Her hand slid into her overlarge purse that she’d used for church meetings and the deadly dull ministerial conventions she and Jim attended every year. She pulled out a manila envelope then held it out the window. “Here,” she said in a low voice.

  “Huh?” He looked at her, and his eyes focused. “What’s this about?”

  “About this.” She waved the envelope at him. “Take it.”

  His eyebrows rose and he took it from her. She waited while he opened it and looked inside.

  He lifted his head and stared at her. His face paled, and for the first time she noticed a spattering of orange freckles on his nose and across his cheekbones. He didn’t speak. Just stared.

  “Don’t tell Sarah,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone. No one needs to know.”

  “Why?” His voice was harsh.

  She stared back. Now she was speechless. Unable to say the words. Because you were there for me. Because I should have done more for you long ago. Because I know your truck is falling apart and you can’t afford another one. Not with the baby coming.

  Because I love all of you so much that I lie awake at night sometimes and when I think about you, it keeps me from going into the dark places.

  “It’s rent,” she said.

  “Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pounded his steering wheel with each ‘fuck,’ grinning like he’d won the lottery. Like he’d been carrying a heavy load on his shoulders and it had just lightened up by a ton.

  Then he put his mouth in a line. Looked down on his lap. Shook his head. Picked up the envelope and handed it back to her.

  “I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.”

  “Come on.” She wanted to hit him.

  “Sarah wouldn’t take it.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you.” She wanted to hit him twice. “You need it. I got it. Our dad should’ve given Sarah and you money long ago.”

  “I never asked him for money.”

  “Neither did Jim or I. But he gave it to us.”

  His left eyebrow lifted in a skeptical arc. “Maybe you didn’t, but I bet Jim hinted pretty broadly.”

  “Not around me.”

  “He didn’t get blow jobs from other women around you, either. Besides, I don’t base my behavior on his.”

  Tears welled up. She turned her head from him and faced the field, blinking away the tears. So tired of tears. She sniffed and looked back to him.

  “Put the money in the bank. I gotta go.” He grinned crookedly. “Hey, thanks for the thought. For half a moment, I was feeling pretty damn good.”

  “You can still change your mind.”

  He laughed. “You’re a devil, you are.” With a nod, he took off.

  She’d just stepped into the house when her phone rang. She dropped the envelope on the table and dug into her purse, not as happy as before Marsh turned down her money. She wanted to help them.

  There had to be another way. She would think of it.

  The phone trilled again, and she looked at the Caller ID. Derek Muench.

  She didn’t want to talk to him now. The only person she wanted to talk to right now was a fairy godmother, and good luck with that. But unlike an imaginary fairy godmother, Derek was flesh and blood and wanted to talk to her, so she put the phone to her ear and pressed ‘talk.’

  “Hey, Derek. Thanks for calling while I was sick. I appreciate it.”

  “Mom says Pastor Jim doesn’t deserve you. I agree one thousand percent.”

  “I filed for divorce today.” The words dropped out of her mouth like rocks clunking onto a road.

  She made a face. Why had she said that? Derek was a guy. They didn’t want to hear this kind of thing.

  “Oh.” There was a pause. “Good. Would you, uh, like to go out to eat tonight?”

  She frowned. “With you and Elaine?”

  “No, not with Mom. Just me.”

  She looked down at her left hand. At her bare ring finger.

  Was Derek asking her on a date? With romantic intentions?

  “I’m not sure...” She stopped herself from saying more. She was being silly thinking he thought she was...well, datable. Or something more. Derek probably thought she was ancient. For a woman to be seven years older than a man was like a generation dividing them. Guys who were twenty-nine were dating twenty-year-olds, not thirty-six-year-olds.

  Obviously he was inviting her to dinner as a friend. Payback for all the times she had him and his mother over for dinner. She was one of the few who asked Elaine to her home and smiled as the woman rambled on about all that she still did for Derek despite her physical problems.

  “I know you like Italian,” he said. “Paradiso in Tomahawk is one of my accounts. I just updated their website yesterday. Pete, the owner, said to come over anytime and bring a friend. How’d you like to be my first guest?”

  Her shoulders relaxed. He just thought of her as a friend. They both liked Italian, and the meal was free. Nothing romantic about a free meal.

  “Sounds wonderful. I’d love to be your first. Thanks for thinking of me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he said, and his voice changed. Deepened.

  A small frisson went through her, like a tiny starburst shooting through her bloodstream.

  They set up a time for him to pick her up. After she ended the call, she let Goldie outside then went to the guest bedroom to change into a sweatshirt and pa
nts with an elastic waistband. Not that she needed elastic. She still hadn’t regained her appetite, and instead of gaining weight, she’d lost another pound.

  Three weeks ago, she would’ve been thrilled. Now she didn’t care. Well...maybe a little. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She could see herself from her hips up. But what she saw looked good.

  “This is what you’ll never have again,” she said to her reflection, meaning the words for Jim, not herself.

  Then she went to let Goldie back in to be with her puppies, and followed the dog into the puppy room. The black puppy tried to climb up her leg. No one wanted him yet. He looked too much like a black lab for perspective owners to pay the designer-dog price that Sarah and Marsh were asking.

  She wanted to tell him she’d take him, but how could she? She had no idea where she’d be living. How much time she’d have.

  Goldie barked, stopping her thoughts. The large dog got up on her feet and faced the front, barking louder. All the puppies squealed and the black puppy barked. Small, high barks that sounded cute now but she knew would soon be loud and irritating.

  Becky climbed over the barrier that kept them from escaping – an old door in bad shape that looked like it should be firewood once the puppies were gone. Sarah had plans to spruce it up for resale.

  In the living room, Becky peered out the large front window at a white truck, sized about halfway between a semi and a pickup. Squinting, she stuck her nose close to the glass to see a black and red emblem, with more lettering on the side. But all she could make out was one word: ANTIQUES.

  The driver walked around the cab, and she breathed in – then couldn’t seem to breathe out. The air stuck in her lungs.

  Almost eighteen years had passed since she’d seen Trey Niemow, and she probably wouldn’t have recognized him if Earl hadn’t mentioned his name at the village board meeting. He’d filled out some. In a good way. His shoulders were broad under his blue long-sleeved shirt, and his hips and legs lean under his jeans. From this distance, she couldn’t see too much of his face, but he wore his hair short now. He probably didn’t feel he had to show the world he was a rebel anymore. Financial success did that to a person, she thought.