Counterpointe (39 page)

“Are we at the end, Clare?” His chest was so tight he found it difficult to breathe.

Her eyes came up to meet his. “If not an end, then what?”

He was suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know. I do know running away wasn’t the answer.”

“Maybe it was. I needed time alone to...figure things out.”

“Did you? Figure them out?”

“I know what I did was wrong. Marrying you because I was too frightened to face things on my own.”

“Was that the only reason, Clare?”

“You’re asking if I ever loved you. Of course I did. Just not enough, maybe. Everything was too mixed up. I was too mixed up.”

“Are you sure about a divorce?”

“I thought it was what you wanted.”

“Is there someone else, Clare?”

She shook her head.

“Then, if you’re doing it because you thought I wanted it...do you think we might wait awhile? Not rush it.”

She cocked her head as if considering. When she finally nodded, he realized he was holding his breath.

Adagio

A series of slow,
graceful movements of
simple or complex
character, performed with
fluidity and apparent ease

Hope House was a shabby three-story brick building with a narrow strip of threadbare front yard. The overlay of poverty was as palpable as the smell of garbage. But no matter if he found it off-putting, this was the place that helped Clare bloom again.

He followed her inside, to find it clean but with no decorator enhancements. She led the way to the second floor past a room where several men were using computers or typewriters and others were reading or writing. Next door, they encountered a man large enough to play center for the Patriots.

“Beck, I’d like you to meet my husband, Rob.”

Rob felt a brief spurt of pleasure at the words...”my husband.”

Beck reached out a hand that engulfed Rob’s. “Good to meet you.” He appeared to be willing to be friendly but was clearly reserving judgment.

“The saints be praised.”

Rob turned to find a stocky black woman standing in the doorway, beaming at him. “Hello there, beautiful.” She stepped forward and took his hand between both of hers. “I’m Vinnie, and you must be Rob.” She was a shrub next to Beck’s oak. Oak, nothing. The man was a redwood. Old growth redwood. The thought amused Rob, and he smiled at Vinnie, who was examining him closely.

She nodded, smiling back, her face transformed to beauty. “You’ll do,” she said.

Rob felt absurdly pleased although he wasn’t entirely certain what she meant. He chatted with Vinnie and Beck for several minutes, responding to their questions about his sojourn in South America. Then Clare escorted him around the rest of the building, introducing him to everyone they encountered. He tried to ignore the discomfort the searching appraisals he received caused, and mostly he succeeded. Eye-opening, however, to see how these men, whose bad choices and difficulties had etched lines in their faces, reacted to Clare. He saw affection in their expressions and heard respect in their voices.

“This is Kenny,” Clare said. “He made this.” She touched the small key she wore around her neck.

Rob had noticed the key and wondered about it. Kenny was almost as big as Beck and he moved with a slight limp. A scar bisected one eyebrow and continued to the corner of his left eye. Rob shook Kenny’s hand, thinking that if he ran into him on a deserted street after dark, he’d be thoroughly intimidated.

Kenny fixed Rob with a baleful look. “You needs to talk to Clare. Tell her to stay here with us. No need her going off some other place.”

“I am hoping she’ll reconsider.” It wasn’t the way he planned on saying that to Clare.

“You hear that, Clare? He telling you to stay here.” Kenny gave Clare a stern look.

“I’ll definitely give it some thought.” Clare spoke lightly, then she touched Rob’s sleeve to direct him to follow her, as Kenny went off in the opposite direction.

“Oh, John, there you are.”

Approaching them was the man he’d seen walking with Clare. Rob clamped down on a spurt of irrational jealousy. Or perhaps not so irrational, given the man’s expression when he spotted Clare.

“This is John Apple. John, my husband, Rob.”

Apple had a firm handshake and piercing blue eyes he used to dissect Rob.

He doesn’t like me
.

Apple turned to Clare, his fierce gaze softening.

He’s in love with her
. The realization hit Rob like a punch in the stomach.

When Apple left, Rob spoke quickly. “I better be going. Thank you for sharing this.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.”

He wondered what she would say if he were to ask about her relationship with Apple. Probably something like,
Why are you asking
? And maybe he’d say what was really eating at him.
You no longer wear your wedding ring
.

He walked out of Hope House before he ruined the visit by saying something so stupid.

“You still planning to divorce that nice man?” Vinnie asked Clare when she saw her later.

“What makes you think he’s nice?”

“Clear as the nose on your face, beautiful.” Vinnie tapped Clare on the cheek. “That’s a good man. I seen enough bad ones to know. So how about it?”

“Yes. I’m still planning on it.” She gave Vinnie a steady look, daring her. She should have known better.

“Like to know why.”

“You know that expression Beck uses,” Clare said. “You’ve got to walk the talk? Well, Rob walked it all right. All the way to South America.”

“And you upped the ante by planning that move to Cincinnati. That right, girl?”

“Best laid plans.” Clare sighed. “I was planning to be gone before Rob got home.”

Vinnie harrumphed. “And you still don’t believe the Father’s watching over you?”

“Are you saying the Father arranged for Jamal to be murdered?”

Vinnie looked shocked. “Course not. But the Father can take the bad, use it for good. Like making sure you’re still here when that husband of yours come home. You don’t think the Father had a hand in that, means you ain’t paying attention. Besides, notice you ain’t said you don’t love him. Course love ain’t only about what you feel. It’s about what you do. People talk about love, really talking ‘bout sex. Sex okay. Just ain’t enough to build a life on. Why I got to tell you this? You know it already, beautiful.”