19
I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE and turned off the ignition, not remembering much about the drive home. It was one thing to suspect Stephen of being unfaithful, but to know it . . .
The driveway was empty, and I was relieved Alex and his crew had already left. Inside, I dropped my purse and keys in the entrance hall and walked to the kitchen, my throat parched. Three times I filled a glass from the tap and drained each one. Why Stephen felt the need to tell me about Susan unbuttoning her shirt, I’d never know. I slammed the glass down on the counter so hard it cracked—just like something inside me, swift and sharp. I doubled over to catch my breath, fighting to close my mind to the memory of Stephen’s voice. To the image of them together in his car!
How could I have been so stupid to trust him again? Instinct had told me not to. But I hadn’t listened. I’d given him the benefit of the doubt, yet again. But now there was no doubt. I had half a mind to just pack and leave. But where would I go? I could fly to Idaho. Paige would help me figure things out. She always did.
Back in the entrance hall, I fished my phone from my purse and pressed the third name on my Favorites list. Paige was such a good—. The call went to voicemail.
I texted:
I looked at Maggie’s name next but knew better. She would have to be told soon enough, but not today. And I didn’t have to worry about Stephen calling her. No way he’d risk tarnishing his standing with her.
Richard’s number was next. But I’d heard all his advice, and look where it got me. That wasn’t fair, I knew. But I couldn’t think straight. Mom’s old cell number was still listed, and I stared at her picture, wishing I could talk to her again, if only for a moment. What wisdom might she give me? What words of comfort and assurance? I knew she would tell me to trust God. But hadn’t I already done that?
“How could you?” I whispered into the silence, knowing he heard me, despite my never having felt so utterly alone. This house felt less like home than any place I could remember. “You knew this would happen. You know the future as well as you do the past, and yet you still told me to follow him. I did exactly what you wanted me to, left everything I knew. Why?”
I didn’t know which was harder to accept, Stephen’s betrayal or God’s.
I needed to get out. Take a drive, a walk, whatever. But I couldn’t stay here. I hurried upstairs to change, feeling the walls closing in on me.
My phone sounded. Paige? But Stephen’s face filled the screen as the Doobie Brothers’ song played. I rejected the call, but he called again. And again. Finally he left a message, which I immediately deleted.
In the bedroom, I stopped short. Alex and his crew had left satchels of tools and other supplies along one wall. Why had I proceeded with this? I wished I could call and cancel, but contracts were signed, deposits paid. No turning back now.
I quickly changed, not bothering to hang anything up, then reached for my tennis shoes. My phone dinged:
Work through things? He truly thought there was a chance of our staying together? Was the man really that arrogant? He called again and again, and I kept rejecting the calls, leaving the phone on in the hope Paige might reach out. When he called yet again, anger shot through me and I picked up. “Have I not made it clear that I do not want to talk to you? Stop calling me!”
“Claire, just give me a—”
I hung up, but he kept calling.
Finally I answered again. “Listen to me, Stephen—”
“I’m on my way there right now so we can—”
“Listen to me,” I repeated, a steel in my voice I hardly recognized. “If you come over here or call me one more time, I will file a restraining order. And I’ll make certain the firm—and everyone else, including Maggie—knows what you’ve done. Do you understand me?”
Silence weighed the line.
“Yes,” he finally said. “I understand. But you need to know how much I still love—”
I hung up, shaking. I went to splash water on my face but hardly recognized the woman in the mirror—eyes red-rimmed and puffy, complexion drained of color, looking far beyond her age. I’d allowed him to do this to me. But no more. I determined not to shed one more tear. Stephen’s vanity was lined with neatly arranged bottles of expensive products he used to maintain his looks. With one swipe, I sent everything crashing to the floor.
On my way out, I grabbed our wedding portrait from the dresser and threw it against the wall, glass spraying everywhere. I picked up a heavy crystal award the mayor of Denver had presented to Stephen for his pro bono work—at a women’s shelter, of all places—and sent it sailing. It slammed against the wall but didn’t break.
The handle of Jimmy’s sledgehammer stuck out of one of the satchels. With one satisfying swing, the crystal exploded into a hundred jagged pieces. Next thing I knew, I was smashing pictures of us on vacation through the years. It felt as if I were outside myself, watching me do this—until I missed one of the pictures and the hammer went through the wall. All the way through.
But that wasn’t possible. Interior walls in this house were two bricks thick. Alex had said so. Panting, I managed to pull the sledgehammer free, but with it came chunks of plaster and wood that left an opening the size of a dinner plate.
Heart racing, I peered through the opening but couldn’t see anything. I caught a musty smell and slowly reached inside, expecting to feel a brick wall. But the darkness swallowed my arm, inch by inch. Nearly up to my elbow, I felt wood, then a tickle, like something crawling on the back of my hand. I yanked it out and frantically brushed off the cobwebs, checking for spiders.
I shined the flashlight on my phone inside the hole, but whatever I’d touched—a beam, maybe—obstructed the view. This couldn’t be a load-bearing wall, at least not the part I’d knocked through. I used the sledgehammer again, this time to make careful strikes in close proximity, mindful of the layers of plaster and wood. The wall somehow seemed more formidable now, as though it had awakened and didn’t welcome the disturbance after all these years.
But I kept at it, finally using the steel head like the claw edge of a hammer and gently prying away layers until I could see inside. And I couldn’t believe my eyes.