The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (56 page)

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course I know how to swim.”

There was a naked man only a few feet from me. An extremely well-built, naked man. A naked man who was not my husband.

“I’m not the type to go skinny dipping with a complete stranger,” I said. “Besides, I feel like going for a walk.”

“Suit yourself…Ma’am.” He added the last word before diving under the water.
 

I watched as he surfaced a few feet away, and with easy strokes, swam across the pond. For a moment, I was torn between screaming at him that I didn’t need to prove myself and tearing my own clothes off to join him.
 

***

It was hard not to be completely and totally aware of a naked man slicing through the water only a few feet away, but I did my best as I picked my way along the banks of the pond. I made an effort to keep my back to Jason so I wouldn’t catch an accidental glimpse. Not that I didn’t want to, but…

A cluster of the same bright red flowers I’d noticed earlier caught my eye, and I focused on them, settling into the soft grass, thankful for a distraction of any kind. I’d already counted four different types of flowers around the water. There were definitely fewer varieties growing in the shade of the woods than in the field, but there was something about the wildflowers thriving, with such minimal sunlight, that fascinated me.
 

I hadn’t always been a flower person, but on our very first date, Jon had brought me a bouquet, and after that I was a convert. It was such a simple thoughtful act, and relatively cliché, but it didn’t matter. It was sweet. After that first date, he would make a point to give me flowers on a regular basis. It made Steph jealous, because the men she dated either didn’t believe in romantic gestures or were too absorbed in themselves to consider that she might like some.
 

Even after we were married, Jon would still bring me bouquets, although they didn’t seem to come with the same frequency. Occasionally he would surprise me with roses, or my favorites, daisies, on our weekly date night.
 

We’d started our special Friday night dates when it became clear that married life was different than the fun and carefree college days. Especially with a baby on the way. With Jon busy working on his career, and me focusing on getting ready to be a mom, it was easy for the two of us to get lost in our daily lives and forget about each other.
 

We made it our mission to reconnect every Friday night after work by going for dinner at a new place. We did our best to try every restaurant in town, even the little diners and hole in the wall pubs. If they served food, they were fair game. I used to love our nights out and the satisfaction there was in turning down invitations from other couples, because I knew I already had the hottest date in town.
 

When had they stopped? Those dates seemed so long ago. It had been years since we’d laughed over menus, deciding on appetizers to share and which entree sounded best.
 

I wrapped my arms around my knees, remembering. After Jordan was born, I’d been buried in overwhelming feelings of being trapped by a new little being and the guilt that came from thinking thoughts like that. I knew I’d pushed him away. And after Kayla was born, it’d only gotten worse. More than once over the years he tried to take me out for a date. I bent to inhale the fragrance of the wildflowers. I knew exactly when the last time Jon asked me to go out was. How could I forget?

“Hey,” Jon had said. He’d come up behind me while I was folding a basket of Kayla’s tiny clothes. “I have an idea.” He’d slid his arms around me, and nuzzled my neck. “Let’s start up date nights again. I miss you.”

I’d pulled my head away; his breath on my neck irritated me. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” He had squeezed me in a gentle hug. “Steph would watch the girls.”

I’d twisted out of his grip, and said, “I have nothing to wear. Nothing fits.”

“So, go buy something.”
 

The thought of shopping—trying on clothes that were too tight in the harsh lights of the change room—had made me wince. “I don’t have time for that.”
 

“Come on, Becca. It’s been too long since we’ve been out. And the company Christmas party doesn’t count.”

No, it didn’t count. His party had been torturous, with all Jon’s associates’ wives, with their professionally styled hair, their tiny bodies in revealing, glittery dresses. They’d all toasted their husbands with countless glasses of champagne while I’d felt like a stuffed olive in my green satin dress, too tight on the arms, clinging to all the wrong places. I’d hidden in the ladies’ room until Jon sent his assistant in to find me and haul me back out. No, his party definitely didn’t count as a night out.

“Why do we have to go out?” I’d asked Jon.

“It’s important for us to get out together.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

I’d turned to him, Kayla’s sleeper in my hands. “I mean, no. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to get dressed up and pretend to feel good about it. I just want to have a bath and go to bed.”

“Maybe next week?”

There had been hope in his face then. He’d tried. And all I’d said was, “We’ll see.”

We never went.

“They’re called wood lilies,” Jason said, jarring me from my memory. “They’re native to this area.”

I released my knees and turned around to find him dressed again. Well, half dressed. He was still naked from the waist up and patting his chest with his t-shirt.
 

“They’re beautiful.” I turned back to the cluster of blossoms that had captivated me. “The color is really unique,” I said. “Not really orange, not really red. It would be a challenge to recreate.”

“You’re an artist?”
 

“No,” I said, too quickly. “I mean I was once, but not anymore.”

“Well, they are gorgeous.” Jason crouched down next to me. “I’ve always envied artists. If I could, I’d paint them, but with my total lack of skill, I’m sure they’d end up looking like red blobs.”
 

Aware of his proximity, I couldn’t control a shiver that ran through my body.

“Are you cold?”

My body felt about a hundred degrees. “I am a little,” I lied. “I should probably get back.”

He stood, and his thigh brushed my arm. The rough denim sent a shock through to my core. I desperately wanted to rub the spot he’d touched, but I didn’t move.
 

“Can you find your way back?” Jason asked. “I should get to work.” He yanked his t-shirt over his head.

“Of course.” I pushed myself up from the ground and tried to pretend I didn’t notice the way the dampness made his shirt cling to his chest. “I’ll let you get to it,” I said, and turned to leave.
 

I’d only gone a few steps towards the path when he called, “Hey, Becca?”

I stopped, but didn’t turn, afraid my face had already given away too much.
 

“Maybe next time, you’ll swim.”

Chapter 14

The next morning, I woke feeling like I did after a bender in college. Only there was no alcohol involved. It was guilt. I knew it. My dreams the night before had been filled with images of the girls; Jordan accusing me of abandoning them, Kayla crying out for me. My head was pounding, my thoughts fuzzy. I needed air.
 

I grabbed the books sitting on the counter as I made my way to the porch. It was a reflex, a comfort to hold a book, as if it held all the answers I needed.
 

The morning sun felt good on my skin. I slipped into the rocking chair and tipped my head back. My face soaked up the rays; the feel of the books, their solid weight on my lap, soothed me. I opened my eyes, looking at the first title. Reenergizing The Connection: Reconnecting With Your Spouse.
 

Reconnecting? Is that all it would take? Marriage shouldn’t be so hard. At least, it never used to be.

Jon and I used to be so close, it was like we were two halves of the same person.
 

It wasn’t fair to blame the kids; after all, every relationship changed after children. But when we’d found out we were expecting, even though it was a total surprise, it was exciting. I’d never forget showing Jon the stick with two pink lines on it. I was terrified, but he smiled and swung me around the living room of our little apartment into a dance.
 

Quitting art school had been tough, but it was made easier by how excited we were. And Jon had been so loving and protective as we watched my stomach grow. We read the pregnancy books together, marveling every few weeks over the pictures of what the baby looked like. As the months went on, Jon would rub my feet and we’d make plans for the future, talking about what things would be like when the baby came. We’d never been closer.
 

Then, things changed. After we brought Jordan home from the hospital, the image of the perfect family, the one we’d constructed so carefully, crumbled. Not at first, of course. In the beginning, Jon took time off work and he’d get up in the middle of the night to help me with feedings; he’d bring me tea and keep me company while I tried to nurse. But soon, he had to go back to work and reality set in. It was just me, alone, with the sleepless nights, the endless dirty diapers, and the crying. The crying that never stopped.
 

Just thinking back to the way I’d wished for Jordan to shut up, just for a minute, caused the ache in my chest to flare up again. I was an awful mother, even from the beginning. She’d cried inconsolably for hours on end. I’d tried everything but I couldn’t soothe my colicky little girl. It killed me to watch her, face scrunched up and pink from the effort of her screams.
 

It was the same again with Kayla. Except with her, Jon only took three days off work. He was needed at the office, he said. And when Kayla cried for hours on end, Jordan would hide in her room, hands over her ears, pretending she didn’t have a little sister. And I’d wished I could do the same. Instead, I rocked her endlessly, my own tears falling on my little girl who couldn’t be consoled. There were a lot of tears in those early days of motherhood, but somewhere along the way, they’d dried up completely.
 

Rocking on the porch, with the memories fueling me, a buildup of pressure swelled under my ribs, making me breathe deeply, gasping for a solid breath. I didn’t cry anymore. Ever.

But it wasn’t their fault. And just because I needed a break didn’t mean I could ignore them.
 

***

The message light was blinking the minute I turned on the phone. I ignored it and punched in our home number before I could chicken out.
 

“Hello?”

“Jordan, how are you?”

“Mom? Where the hell are you?”

She wasn’t allowed to say hell. I let it go.

“I’m just on a bit of a holiday. How are things there?”

“You’re kidding, right?” I could hear her usual sarcasm, but there was an undercurrent of worry, too. “Dad is going crazy,” she said. “Did you have a fight? Liz’s parents got a divorce after they had a fight. Are you getting a divorce?”

“No, Jordan. I told you, I’m just on a holiday.” I tried my best to sound cheerful. She probably saw right through it. “Everything’s fine.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fine. Dad’s making me babysit Kayla tomorrow and I don’t think he’s going to pay me. He should pay me right?”

“Yes, I’ll make sure he pays you,” I said. “I know you need to get to school, so I won’t keep you. But you can call whenever you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Is everything alright?”

There was a silence on the line. I held my breath. “Do you want to talk to Kayla?”

“Of course,” I said. “But—”

“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll get her.”

I heard the shuffle of Jordan walking down the hall and then the muted sounds of Dora the Explorer as she entered the living room. “Mom’s on the phone.”

“Mommy?” I heard Kayla’s muffled squeal and a second later, “Mommy!”

“Hi, sweetie.” My throat clenched at the enthusiasm in her voice and I swallowed hard. “How are you? Are you having fun with Daddy and Jordan?”

“Yup. We got chicken and fries for dinner. Daddy said we could have pizza tonight.”

I smiled. He was struggling without me. “Don’t forget to eat some vegetables, too, okay?”

“Do I get to play at Auntie Steph’s house again?”

“You were at Auntie Steph’s?”

“Yup, after school. Are you coming home, Mommy? Pup-Pup came home.”

“You got Pup-Pup?” I sent a silent thank you to the teenager at the gas station.
 

“Yup, Daddy said he took a bus ride. Are you on the bus? Then you can come home.”

I could hear the song in the background change to the familiar Scooby-Doo theme music.

“I gotta go, Mommy.”

“I love you, Kayla.”

“It’s me,” Jordan said. “She’s watching TV.”

“I love you, too, Jordan,” I said, wishing I could wrap my arms around my oldest. I had a feeling she’d let me if I tried.

“Mother, can I…”
 

“Is that your mother?”
 

I braced myself.
 

“Becca?” Jon’s voice came on the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“Hi, Jon.” I could feel my pulse pounding in my head. “I’m fine.”

“Come home. This is crazy.”
 

“I need some time.” I heard myself say the words.
 

“Time?” Jon asked. “Time for what? You can’t just run away from your life. You’re a grown woman. You can’t just leave like this. You have responsibilities.”

“I didn’t run away.” My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. I didn’t recognize it.
 

“Look,” Jon said, his voice softening a little. “I get it. Things can be crazy, and I know you need to look after yourself. I get that. But this isn’t the way. This isn’t okay, Becca. We need to talk. Where are—”

“I can’t.” The pain in my temple bloomed. “Not now.”

“Becca—”

“I’ll call again.”