Ray woke up in the leather living room recliner with a blanket tucked around him. He pushed the chair into an upright position and rubbed the back of his neck. His muscles were stiff and sore. How long had he been here?
He let out a long sigh, trying to shake off the cobwebs of deep slumber and looked around. There was an empty highball glass on the end table next to his chair. What time is it? Ray looked at his watch—one thirty. Glancing into the kitchen, he saw brilliant sunshine against an indigo sky. So, it must be one thirty in the afternoon on Saturday?
His thoughts were muddled, and he realized he was wearing clothes from the day before. What on earth? Ray’s memory was a blank; he had no recollection of the past several hours.
The house was quiet, and he called out for his wife. “Susannah! Honey, where are you?”
Ray tried to rise from the recliner and was overcome with dizziness. He fell back hard. Why couldn’t he remember anything? And where was Susannah?
Ray picked up the empty glass and smelled it—maybe that would trigger his memory. The oaky whiff of Maker’s Mark filled his nostrils. That was unusual in itself; he rarely drank alcohol.
He called for Susannah again. Getting no response, he rose slowly from the chair and dragged his heavy feet into the kitchen. Ray steadied himself on the kitchen counter. What the hell was happening?
A memory flickered. In Friday’s mail, a letter had arrived confirming a large withdrawal from their stock portfolio. He vaguely recalled a confrontation. They had argued. He thought he remembered her insisting she’d withdrawn the money for them but wouldn’t explain further. Susannah refused to talk with him until he calmed down. She had poured him a whiskey and soda—he recalled the drink being stiff on the whiskey—and announced she was going for a walk until he could be reasoned with. Where was she?
The last thing Ray remembered was accepting the drink.
Slowly, he walked out the back door. The garage was open, and both their cars were there. She must be here somewhere.
Ray hollered at the top of his lungs for his wife. “Susannah! Susannah, are you here?”
It was a glorious August day, and sounds of active neighbors filled the air. Kids rode their bikes, while parents mowed lawns and tended to vegetable and flower gardens.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead!” Susannah’s cheerful voice came from outside the shed where they stored yard equipment.
Ray shielded his eyes from the bright sun, watching her close the door of the shed. She ambled across the yard, wearing her gardening clothes and carrying a basket of dead flowers. As she approached, dry grass crunched under her feet.
“How long have you been out here?” Ray still felt confused about where he was or the day of the week.
She held out the basket. “Just cutting back some plants.”
He met her at the halfway point of the yard.
“How are you feeling? I was worried about you last night.” She came alongside him, planting a soft kiss on Ray’s cheek and slipped her arm through his.
He had no idea what she was referring to. “I’m still a little groggy. How long did I sleep?”
She stopped and turned to look at him, her brow crinkled. “Sweetheart, can’t you remember? We had a spat yesterday, over our financial portfolio. You accused me of withdrawing money without telling you. I was disturbed. I’ve never seen you that angry. After dinner, you made yourself a drink, which you almost never do, and you wouldn’t speak to me. Around ten o’clock, you said you didn’t feel well and were going to bed. But you fell asleep in the recliner instead.”
He listened keenly. What Susannah was telling him was fuzzy at best. “I remember our argument. I thought you made me a drink, then went for a walk in the heat of things—”
“No, Ray, I never made you a drink or left the house. You were very upset—I mean, honey, you hardly ever drink. Anyway, I went up to get ready for bed, and when I came back downstairs, you were out cold.” She reached up to massage his aching shoulders. “I shouldn’t have let you spend the night in the recliner. I tried to wake you, but you were sound asleep.”
He could not remember any of this, and it bothered him. Ray opened the back door, and they entered the kitchen. “I do want to discuss this portfolio matter further—”
Susannah held a finger up to his lips. “We’re going to have that conversation right now. I’ll come clean and tell you my surprise.”
Ray joined her at the kitchen table, where she had laid out glossy travel brochures, presenting the majestic white sails of a windjammer cruiser amid a stunning tropical locale displaying blue sky, white sandy beaches, pristine aqua waters, and swaying palm trees. “What is all this?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“It’s a Windstar cruise to French Polynesia. The cruise itself is eleven days, and I propose that we stay at least two weeks. I withdrew the money for a substantial down payment to reserve us a spot for next March. How long has it been since you’ve had a real vacation? Think of all the things we can do—snorkeling, windsailing, kayaking, walking along the beach. Yes, I realize a trip of this nature is expensive and requires detailed planning, which I am happy to undertake. We didn’t take a honeymoon, and after all the work we’ve put in to make The Road to Calvary a success, we deserve a moment for ourselves. It would be a once-in-a-lifetime journey.”
Ray reviewed the breathtaking brochures. He had been untrusting, just as Susannah had said. He felt like a complete ass and reached for her hand. “Forgive me for doubting you. This would be an amazing adventure, and you’re right, we need a proper honeymoon.”
Susannah came around the table and settled into Ray’s lap. He was a pushover for her soft touch and kisses. “I need a shower after working in the yard,” she said. “You could use one, too.” Arms around his neck, she pulled Ray close for a deep kiss.
“That I could.” He kissed her passionately.
She smiled seductively and tugged at his shirt.
His grogginess was eroding as her small hands slid into his trousers. Ray began unbuttoning her top, and they climbed the stairs, roaming hands all over one another’s bodies.
Susannah had certainly opened Ray’s sexual horizons to new possibilities, and lovemaking in a warm shower was one of them. Dressed, he called out to her before heading downstairs, “Want to try Charlie Gitto’s?”
“That would be great,” she said, and the blow dryer ramped into high gear.
He had forgotten a belt and returned to the walk-in closet. While he was threading the belt through the loops, he noticed that Susannah’s side of the closet seemed to have far fewer clothes than he remembered. Maybe his night sleeping in a recliner was still affecting him. Surveying the clothes rack, he was positive her favorite outfits were missing.
“Honey, why are almost half your clothes gone?” he asked casually.
Finished drying her hair, Susannah came into the bedroom. “Oh, darn! I wanted my purge to be another surprise. I have far too many clothes, so I’m donating anything I haven’t worn in the last year. I thought, why not give them to women who need business attire for a job or an interview?” She kissed him again. “Why don’t you make reservations for dinner, and I’ll be right down.”
He pulled her close for another kiss. Lost in a tight embrace and deep, moist kisses, Ray knew he was the luckiest man in the world.