The Longest Night Read online

  “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “I have three cats and a dog. Are you allergic to animals? Because as much as I like you, they matter to me.” He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Some people don’t understand, but they’re my family.”

  I let out a slow breath, a wave of relief washing over me. “I love animals. I don’t have any because my ex didn’t want them messing up the house. We had a dog when we were first married, but after she passed away, he told me he didn’t want to get any more. I’d love to meet them,” I said, meaning every word. I had wanted a cat for years, but John had put his foot down. It suddenly dawned on me that his needs had always come first, even when we were first together. How had I never noticed?

  “Do you want to come over? We can skip the follies if you want.”

  I realized he was asking me if I wanted more than just to meet his pets.

  I thought over the offer. As enticing as it was, I knew I wasn’t ready yet.

  “I think…I’d like to meet them, but another time.” I flashed him a smile, as the waitress brought over our second helpings of spaghetti.

  The follies were actually a lot of fun. It wasn’t the symphony, and the choir was off-key, but the enthusiasm of the singers and the inventiveness of the skits and dances enchanted me. I shivered as the snow fell around us, but Chris wrapped a blanket around our shoulders and we snuggled together on the bleachers, watching along with half of the town.

  We stopped for cocoa at the diner afterward, and then he escorted me home. As we stood at the front door, I decided it was time for a little confession of my own. I had been mulling it over in my head for several days, and I realized it was important to make myself clear. I didn’t want a repeat of what had happened with John.

  “You told me about your pets. Now it’s my turn. I have something to tell you.”

  “I’m waiting.” And he was—the look on his face expectant but neutral.

  “I’m Pagan. John was too, when we first met. But conformity became more important to him than his beliefs. I can’t let that happen to me again. I need to know if you’re comfortable with dating someone who belongs to—and practices—an alternative spirituality. Because it’s important to me.”

  Chris nodded, a soft smile forming on his face. “It’s hard to meet someone when you follow a path that isn’t commonly accepted. But there are more of us out there than people think. Aren’t there?” The light in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

  He leaned down and gently placed his soft, full lips against mine as he gathered me in for a kiss. My head began to spin, the kiss flowing through my body like smooth brandy. He was warm and his body was firm against mine, and the kiss went on and on until I almost felt like I was drowning. John hadn’t kissed me like that in years, and I was suddenly so hungry for connection that I almost asked Chris to come in. But something held me back. Maybe it was the fear of getting hurt again, or maybe I wasn’t quite ready. But as I placed my hand against his chest and whispered good night, I knew that I wanted to see him again. To kiss him again. And that thought frightened me.

  Chapter 4

  “I HAVE TO admit, I’m petrified.”

  Betty and I were eating breakfast at the diner a couple of days later. I’d told her all about the date.

  “Have you seen him since?”

  I shook my head. “No, but we’ve texted a bit. He had a couple emergency calls on Sunday, and he had a lot of appointments scheduled for today. But I’m not sure…” In the intervening days, a flicker of doubt had crept into my heart. Had I been imagining how enthusiastic he seemed? Maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

  “All right, tell me what’s wrong. You don’t find someone you click with so much and then just walk away. Why are you afraid?”

  And that was the million-dollar question. It wasn’t like we were engaged. We had only had two dates, both on the same day.

  “I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. All I know is that when I think about him, and I think about him a lot, I really, really want to see him again. And that scares me. What if something goes wrong? What if I find out he isn’t who I think he is?”

  “You could walk outside and get hit by a bus. You could be driving along the road and run off into a ravine. The bank could suddenly collapse and foreclose on your house. Any number of horrible things can happen, Marilee. The relationship might not work out. But is that a good-enough reason to hide, to avoid giving it a try? I know you’re fresh off of a long, heartbreaking relationship with someone who tried to change you. He broke your heart and your trust. That’s going to leave some scars. But remember—Chris isn’t John. Oh, I’m not saying to totally trust him—not yet. But you can’t close up. Stop building the wall until you see if there’s really something to build it against.”

  I knew she was right. It didn’t make it any easier, but I knew that if I crushed the hope of a relationship out of fear, I’d only be hurting myself. I stirred another spoonful of sugar into my latte and stared at the mug. The swirl created trails in the foam.

  “I know. I know I’m reacting this way because of what happened with John. I promise, I won’t write off the relationship before I have the chance to find out if there’s something really there. But damn, this is scary.”

  “Of course it is, honey. You’re human like the rest of us. Life is scary.”

  Time to change the subject. “On the positive side, my art has suddenly come roaring back to life. I finished a painting of a hawk, and now I’m painting a snowscape. Once I got over my fear of holding the brush, I realized that my talent’s still there. The dam broke loose, and I’ve been painting every day.”

  “That’s the Marilee I want to see. Come on. Let’s find you a pretty dress. Friday night the town holds its annual winter ball. Ask Chris to go. After all, it’s 2016. Girls are allowed to ask boys out now.”

  As we were shopping, Betty turned to me. “This may not be any of my business, but let me ask you this. Did you love John? I mean, I know you did at first, but by the time you left him, did you still love him?”

  I thought about it for a moment before answering. “In a way, I suppose I did. Over the years, though, I think he slowly killed the best of what there was. Each time he discounted me, each time he blew me off, each affair he had, I loved him a little less.”

  “You said he moved out before the divorce?”

  “Yeah, the divorce was final a month ago, but I kicked him out in January. It took all spring, summer, and autumn to come to a settlement agreement, and my lawyer said—for our circumstances—that was fast.”

  “You lived alone during that time?”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t like now. Every day something would spark a memory. The good ones hurt, the bad ones hurt. I finally decided it was just too much. I couldn’t be happy there. But John actually helped me find the house here. Once he figured out that I wasn’t going to take him to the cleaners, he started being…almost considerate.”

  “How nice of him,” Betty said, grimacing.

  “I know. Apparently, treating me like an important part of his life while we were married required too much effort. But I knew that he was playing nice because he was afraid I’d change my mind and demand two-thirds of his income, or something like that. Although…there was one moment…about a week before I left, he came over to drop off the keys to this place. I had everything packed and ready for the movers and the cleaners had come through and polished up most of the house for the new owners.”

  Betty laughed. “That was nice of you. When I bought my house, the previous owners left a mess. They were artists, starving artists who ended up getting foreclosed on, that is.”

  “I like leaving a good impression. And I wouldn’t want to move into a house that was filthy. Anyway, John came over and he looked around at all my boxes, and at the empty house. I suppose a wave of nostalgia hit, because he turned to me and said, ‘I’m sorry we ended like thi
s. I never meant for this to happen.’”

  “What did you say?”

  “I looked at him, and all I could say was, ‘What happened to you? Where did the man I married go? You lost all of your dreams and all of your ideals, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. It’s not like you couldn’t be successful and still be who you were.’

  “He couldn’t answer me. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me, and all of a sudden we were kissing like we had when we first fell in love. But I put a stop to it right there. He had his new girlfriend, and I’m not the kind of woman who’s willing to settle for leftovers. Not anymore.”

  “Do you think he was really sorry?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that he got caught? But maybe I’m wrong. He never tried to cover up the affairs. I guess when I ignored the first one, he thought I’d put up with his behavior. Was he sorry? Maybe. But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop our marriage from crumbling when he had the chance.”

  Betty held up a beautiful hunter-green dress. The brocade top reminded me of a corset, and it had decorative laces down the back. The skirt flowed out into an asymmetrical hemline, and I could tell that it would hit me just above the knee in front, trailing down to the floor in back. It was in that jewel-toned velvet that looked so plush.

  “This would look so beautiful on you. Go try it on.”

  I bit my lip. “It is beautiful.” I ran my fingers over the top of the tone-on-tone filigree design. “You really think this would look good on me?”

  Betty firmly placed the hanger in my hand. “Go find out.”

  There was a hidden zipper on the side of the dress that made it easy to get into. As I stepped into it and slid it up over my body, the smooth satin lining felt good against my skin. I adjusted my breasts, thinking I would need a strapless bra if I bought this. As I zipped up the top and gave one final tug to shift it into place, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

  I stared at my reflection, speechless. I might as well have been Cinderella. The dress made me look like I had swept in from some fairy tale. Even though I could see my bra straps and my hair was pulled back in a ponytail, for the first time in years, I felt truly beautiful. I glanced in the side mirror to check how it draped in back and smiled. Betty had a good eye. This dress made me feel like a queen.

  “Well, how is it?” Betty was standing outside the fitting room, waiting for me.

  I stepped out of the room, grinning like an idiot. “You were right.”

  Her eyes lit up and she clapped. “Oh, you’re going to be the most beautiful woman at the dance.”

  “Well, if I have a date, I will be. Otherwise I’m not going.” I still hadn’t called Chris.

  “Whether you have a date or not, you’re going. If you don’t have a date, we’ll go together. Roger can’t make it, so I’m going stag. Or would that be doe, considering I’m a woman?” Ever since she had moved to Starwood, Betty had embraced her single life with glee. “I’m surprised Chris hasn’t called you for another date yet.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I had been thinking the same thing myself. There was no reason why he should, it wasn’t like we were dating on a regular basis, but we had such a good time that I had assumed he would call again.

  A sudden fear washed over me. Had he changed his mind and decided that we’d be better off as friends?

  “I hate this. I hate feeling like I’m eighteen again.”

  “We all feel like we’re eighteen, no matter what the calendar says.”

  “Maybe I should call him now.” As the words came out of my mouth, I wished I had kept quiet. Now Betty would be all over me to follow through.

  “Do it. Now. You know you want to,” she added with a grin.

  I sighed, returning to the dressing room. I might as well get it over with. As I pulled out my phone, all the new rules of dating hit me. I wasn’t old-fashioned, but I had been out of the scene for so long that I wasn’t sure how to get back in. I preferred to wade ankle-deep before I plunged into the ocean.

  Finally, I gathered my courage and called him, hoping to get an answering machine so that I could leave a message. It was easier to talk to machines than humans sometimes. But Chris answered on the first ring.

  “Rent-A-Geek, Chris speaking. May I help you?”

  “Hi, this is Marilee.” I froze, unsure of what to say next. But he put me at ease with a gentle laugh.

  “Marilee, I’m glad you called. I would have called you yesterday but I was swamped with a couple emergencies. Local writer had her computer crash and she’s on deadline. I spent four hours trying to figure out what was wrong. And after that I had two scheduled appointments for installs. I didn’t get home until 8 p.m., and I was so tired that I figured that I would call you today after I finished work.”

  A rush of relief cascaded over me. “That sounds grueling. I’ve mostly been painting the past couple days. I feel inspired again.” I realized that I was still standing in the fitting room in a state of half-undress. “Hey, I was wondering…are you interested in going to the dance on Friday night?” I was out of the dress and halfway into my jeans by now.

  “Oh, the dance.” He sounded hesitant. “Listen, about that… I agreed to go with somebody else three weeks ago. I’d cancel, but I don’t like being rude. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

  I stifled my disappointment, blushing. I was embarrassed, even though it wasn’t like he had made that date in the past two days.

  “No problem. I realize it’s short notice, but I just found out about it. Look, give me a call when you get a chance. Have a good week.” I hung up before he could say another word. He called back immediately, but I sent it directly to voicemail. I knew myself well enough that if I answered, I would just stumble over my words.

  “Well, the dress can go back on the rack.” I shoved the hanger with the dress back into Betty’s hands. “Chris is already taking somebody. He said that he agreed to go with them three weeks ago.”

  Betty took one look at me and draped the dress back over my arms. “Oh no you don’t. Just because he already has a date is no reason for you to be embarrassed, or for you to squirm out of going to the dance. You are going with me. And you are going to look fabulous, and he’s going to regret having made a date already. “

  I argued, but Betty insisted. So we added a strapless bra and a pair of shoes to the cart. By the time she dropped me off at home I had spent over $300 on a dress I didn’t want to wear for a dance that I didn’t want to go to.

  “You don’t have any choice in the matter. I am taking control of your social life on Friday night.” Betty treated us to Starbucks before driving me home. “I know you’re embarrassed, but you have nothing to feel bad about. He made the date before he met you. And you said that he’s keeping it because he doesn’t like being rude. That’s a good thing—that’s a good quality. He’s keeping his word, and you know that’s important to you.”

  I sucked on the straw of my mocha Frappuccino. “I suppose you’re right. If he’d canceled his date just to take me out, I guess I would have thought he was like John. All right, I’ll go. But you owe me a corsage, since I’m your date.” And with that, I jumped out of the car and waved at her as she drove off.

  As I hung the dress in the closet, I couldn’t help but wonder what Chris’s date looked like. And how old she was.

  Chapter 5

  THURSDAY EVENING WE had a major storm. Friday morning, I woke up to find two feet of new snow on my sidewalk. Luckily, the house had come with a snow shovel. What I really needed, though, was a snow blower. I jammed my legs into a pair of sweatpants, and then pulled on a tank top and layered a sweatshirt over the top. It was cold enough for a thick jacket, but I expected to be sweating by the time I finished shoveling the walk. I slipped on gloves and earmuffs and headed out the front door.

  The shovel was standing beside the door, where I’d left it, and as I picked it up and turned to face the mass of pristine
white that spread over the yard, the cold punched me in the gut. I turned around and went back inside to grab my muffler. Hoping that would help, I returned to the front porch and shivered as my nose began to run.

  The first few shovelfuls cleared off the porch steps, but there was still a layer of ice beneath the snow. I went back inside and dragged out a ten-pound sack of rock salt and began scattering it over the porch, hoping it wouldn’t run off onto the grass.

  Finally, I started in on the walk, grateful that I was in decent shape. I wasn’t athletic, by any means, but I could shovel a walk without having a heart attack. By the time I finished, I was sweaty and chilled.

  “Enough with this crap. I’m hiring somebody to take care of my yard and walkway.” I turned myself around, tramped back into the house, and yanked off my boots. Before I even went to get a cup of coffee, I turned on my computer and immediately began searching for local yard care on Cindy’s Site, a nationwide referral place.

  Twenty minutes and two phone calls later, I sat back. I was now a woman with a gardener, who would also take care of the gutters, power wash the walkways, and shovel snow. One more worry off my shoulders, I headed into my bedroom, stripped off my clothes, and stepped into the shower. Half an hour later, warm and dry, I curled up in my big, oversized easy chair with a book and a hot mocha.

  As I watched the snow fall, I realized that if I had still been with John, I wouldn’t have thought twice about hiring someone to help me. It would have been automatic, just one more task on the to-do list. John had ceased helping out around the house three years into our marriage, when his business started to take off. Shaking thoughts of him away, I went back to my book, trying not to be nervous about the dance tonight. Chris might be taking another date, but I wanted him to leave there thinking about me.