The Woman He Married (28 page)

Forcing herself to consciousness, Josie woke with a start. She blinked her heavy eyes deliberately, resisting the urge to fall back to sleep. Looking for the source of her pain, she had a hard time focusing at first, but then, seeing the abrasions on her hands, Josie lay back and wondered.
What happened?

Everything ached, and Josie thought that maybe she needed to change positions, but rolling onto her side proved even more uncomfortable. With the back of her hand, she pushed herself up to sitting. Through the shutters and out to the balcony she could see the sun had gone down, but the moon and stars were bright. Searching for some clarity, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and standing slowly, she slipped into her robe.

On tentative legs she shuffled outside and into the fresh air.

Josie watched the ocean roll over the sand while the night breeze brushed calmly past, cooling her face and keeping her conscious. She thought of John and felt a tinge of anger. But then, there was something about a nice shower—maybe that was just a dream too.

Her memories seemed to ebb and flow, following the rhythm of the ocean below, leaving her barely able to concentrate on any one thought for more than a second. She looked down at her
palms,
put a tattered hand to her throbbing ribs—

An explosion and then, nothing.

Vague flashes of recognition popped in and out with the breeze and the rustle of the palm trees. Her head started to ache, and she saw flashes of the burning bus,
Denton
performing CPR…then John—Josie felt irritated again.

“Look
who’s
up.” John’s voice floated lightly from the open doorway.

Josie looked over and saw him walking toward her, his face lit up with a smile. Now, she knew she was dreaming. John never smiled like that—at her, anyway.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders gently.

Thinking for a moment, Josie decided to answer, just in case she wasn’t dreaming. She looked back out to the ocean and assessed how she felt before saying, “Like I’ve been shot out
of a
cannon.”

John threw his head back in laughter. “Please, tell me you don’t know what that feels like.”

“Well, no. I reckon I don’t.” Josie looked up at John, glowing down at her.
He’s acting very strange. Not like
himself
at all.
If this was a dream, she was relieved that at least he wasn’t brandishing a sword.

Carefully taking her hands, John examined her palms. “What were you thinking, Jocelyn, going back into that bus?” He touched her face lightly. “You could have been killed. What would I do without you…what about the kids?”

What did I do?
 
Josie searched his face, looking for some meaning to his questions, until the faint memory of that poor woman flickered by. Oh, right. “I suppose I was thinking that if she lost what little money she had…” Josie trailed off.
What did
Denton
give
me, anyway?

“Well, I’m just glad you’re all right.” John reached up to sweep a wayward strand of Josie’s hair away from her face. “You scared me half to death. I thought that I’d lost you forever.”

And, that’s a bad thing?
Josie was about to say, until—

John stepped closer and began lightly caressing the scratches and bruises scattered about her face and neck. Josie stood immobilized, feeling her heart quicken with his touch, while a voice in the back of her head warned her to step back. But she didn’t. His touch was alluring. Her body refused to move.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.” Taking her chin in his hand, John tilted her face up, and leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, gently kissing her. Again, Josie heard a warning sound in her muddled psyche, but she hadn’t been kissed like this in along time.

John’s kiss intensified, his lips moving hungrily against hers. He released the belt of her robe and slid his hands beneath the fabric. Josie moved her arms up to his shoulders when she felt the light touch of his hands tracing across the exposed skin between her tank and panties.

He pulled her closer, and another alarm went unheeded by Josie as she felt John’s hands moving under her top, gently up her back, and to the side, finally caressing the edges of her breasts. His touch on her sore ribs sent darts of pain shooting through her core. She winced, but didn’t want him to stop.

On her toes now, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer still, and kissed him hard.

Breathless, John pulled away, saying, “Let’s go inside.” Taking Josie by the hand, he lead her back into the room and over to the bed. His eyes locked on hers, John stood back and pulled his polo up over his shoulders, before letting it fall to the floor.

With tentative fingers, Josie explored his firm chest and abdomen, still questioning whether or not this was all an illusion.

“Am I dreaming?”

“No,” John said. “I’m right here.”

She moved her fingers down to the buttons of his jeans. One by one, she released each of them until they were all undone. He stepped out of them.

“I don’t think we need this anymore,” he said as he slid his hands under the collar of Josie’s robe, over her shoulders, and along the backs of her arms, allowing the light fabric to flutter softly to the floor. Then, he slowly removed her tank top.

As if seeing her for the first time, John took in every inch of Josie’s exposed body. “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was almost a whisper.

Her adrenaline mixed with what remained of the sedative, and she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling lightheaded under his gaze.

When her eyes opened again, John was standing a breath away as he took her face in his hands and lightly kissed each eyelid before tracing his lips over her forehead and cheeks. His mouth was warm, his touch familiar.

“
Mmmm
, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said.

Gently, he cradled her tattered body in his arms and laid her down onto the feathery covers.

Lowering himself down on top of her, he left his upper body hovering above hers, supported by one arm.
With the other hand, he deliberately traced over the black and purple bruises that dotted her ribcage. His touch caused her heart to pound without inhibition. Her chest heaved with her increased need for oxygen.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

Josie reached up and took hold of John’s neck. Pulling his lips to hers, she breathed, “I won’t break.”

He kissed her tenderly as he eased his body down alongside hers, and she rolled onto her side to face him. When Josie felt her bare skin touch his, the alarm sounding in her head was finally silenced.

* * * *

Beams of bright sunlight pressed against Josie’s eyelids, and she fought the impulse to let them open. Something heavy was resting across her ribcage while her palms burned and itched at the same time. Too uncomfortable now to fall back asleep, Josie allowed her eyes to slowly open. Looking around at the open shutters and billowing white sheers, she realized where she was. When she stirred to relieve the pressure from her ribcage, she noticed a man’s arm was draped over her. Another arm rested beneath her neck and shoulders. Someone was cuddled up next to her. She was afraid to move as her gaze darted about, trying to remember exactly what had occurred here last night.

Nothing came to mind.

Her body aching, Josie knew she needed to move. Hoping she could escape without disturbing her guest, she edged herself carefully toward the side of the bed. When she was almost free, one of her feet caught on the tangled covers, spinning her body over the side, and sending her tumbling out of control.

When she landed with a thud on the floor, shockwaves of pain shot through her body. The coolness of the bare tiles alerted her that she was naked. After allowing the pain to subside, Josie looked over and saw her robe lying in a heap just a few feet away. She pushed herself up to sitting, reached for the robe, and slipped her arms into it, tying it the best she could around her bruised ribcage.
What happened to me? But first things first,
who’s on my bed?

Josie sat back on her heels, huddled next to the bed. With her head buried into the mattress, she tried to muster the courage needed to take a glimpse of the man whose arms she’d spent the night wrapped in. Remembering
Denton
from the other night with those young women, Josie hoped that she didn’t…she didn’t want to even think about that. As she crept up slowly, another thought crossed her mind,
Patrick! Oh, please don’t let it be Patrick.
Josie closed her eyes until her nose touched the top edge on the mattress. She opened one eye at a time and then her head snapped back in shock when she saw that the mysterious man in her bed was, in fact, her husband. Using the bed for support, she pushed her aching body up to standing, watching him carefully, wondering if he was a figment of her imagination.

John was sleeping peacefully on his back, one arm still outstretched to where Josie had been
lying,
the other resting on his bare abdomen, the sheet revealing just enough for Josie to see that, he too, was without clothing. Taking a few steps back, Josie wrapped her robe tighter around her body, and secured the belt, folding her arms firmly at her waist.

“I had sex with my husband,” she muttered quietly.

After watching John a few seconds longer, she smelled the coffee that brewed automatically in their room every morning and realized that she needed to think. She poured herself a cup and moved out to the balcony. Settling into one of the wicker deck chairs, she took a deep breath, sipped her coffee, and began to piece together the events of the last two days—what she could remember, at least.

Josie’s memories of the bus accident and going back in after that poor woman’s purse finally come flooding back. And then she knew why she felt like she was wearing a cap too tight for her head, and why she had bruised ribs and scraped hands.

She remembered searching frantically through the smoky bus for the tattered handbag. Then, running from the bus, she thought that she’d escaped until… She winced, remembering the biting force that had propelled her through the air just before everything went black.

A bit further back, she remembered the Sea
Doos
, the campfire, and the crush that Patrick had on her. Trisha’s triumphant expression as she returned from… And then the source of Josie’s anxiety reappeared—John disappearing from the beach with Trisha, and all those uncomfortable faces staring back at her from around the fire.

The muscles in her hand weakened with the realization of her bemusement at seeing John naked in her bed, and she set the cup down on the table before she dropped it.

But deep down Josie knew that Trisha wasn’t the problem. She was merely a symptom. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with John after the golf game. Of course he didn’t know about her history with
Lanny’s
father, the countries she’d traveled to, or that she had a working relationship with an ex-lover. Why would he? He’d never taken the time to even get to know her. Thinking back with new clarity, it seemed their whole marriage had simply been a sequence of calculated events for John. Marrying the Judge’s daughter, buying the house, having children—all required steps taken in pursuit of his ultimate goal.

Gina was right when she looked around at Josie’s kitchen, littered with food in preparation for a supper—all for the sake of John.

Why am I doing this, staying in this marriage?

Josie saw her mother’s desperate face, pleading with her to think about what
she
wanted from life. Then, the night of the play, drinking
herself
half to death as she attempted to dull the pain. And all the times before, growing in frequency as the years wore on, each
time losing
a bit more of herself.