Two Roads Home Page 6

  Instead he frowned. “We need to talk.”

  “Now?” They were already running late to get to her parents’ house.

  “Yes. We can talk more when we get home, but you need to know something. Now.”

  The tremor in his voice made her stop. She finished knotting the strings on Simone’s jacket and stood, studying her husband’s face. “What’s going on?”

  “Sari, you and Sadie take Simone out in the yard to play for a few minutes.”

  That made her breath catch. Something was up. Something serious.

  When the girls were safely in the fenced backyard, Jesse pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “You might want to sit down.”

  “What in the world is going on?” She sank into the chair, bracing her elbows on the table. The surface was sticky from lunch’s peanut butter and honey sandwiches. She jumped up and wrung out a sour-smelling dishrag, wiped her elbow, then the table, before sitting down again.

  Had Jesse been laid off from his job? That was the only thing she could think of that would make him so serious—oh, but wait . . . that girl from work. Michaela. Oh please, God. No.

  She knew Jesse had seemed a little restless recently. But she’d figured work was just stressful. And he’d been traveling a lot. She’d always trusted her husband. Completely. But the phone call from Michaela . . . That had been odd. And what man wouldn’t face temptation traveling with female colleagues who were younger and far more fascinating than she was?

  Since Simone came along it was all she could do to get through a day getting everyone fed and clothed and laundry done. She’d turned into a frump, taking time to do her hair and makeup only on Sunday—if they even went to church on Sunday. Of course, Jesse always went because he taught a junior-high Sunday school class, but too often, it was just easier for her and the girls to stay home and play catch-up before the next crazy week steamrolled them.

  In the space of a blink, her life passed in front of her and she saw her history with Jesse, their sweet romance, picture-perfect wedding, bringing each of the girls home from the hospital . . . Was this the moment her perfect life was going to come crashing down around her? Was it all going to end with something so ugly that she couldn’t even bring herself to speak of it?

  “Frank called me into his office today. He had some bad news. Strange news.”

  A trickle of relief wove a path through her. The way her imagination had filled in the blanks made unemployment seem like a picnic. “You got laid off?” she ventured softly, surprised at how much she hoped that was all it was.

  “No. No, nothing that bad. But . . . I guess it has the potential to be.” He bit his lip, the words apparently harder to say than he’d expected. “Apparently I’ve been accused of—sexual harassment.” It sounded like he almost choked on the phrase.

  “What?” Surely she heard him wrong. But this was too close to the nightmare her imagination had been toying with seconds earlier. “By who? On what grounds?”

  Jesse propped his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. “I should have told you before, Corinne. I didn’t think it was any big deal. I sure didn’t think it would come to this.”

  “Told me what earlier?” A sudden image floated in her mind—that woman on Jesse’s phone. The one who called him Jess and signed her texts simply M. “Who made the accusation, Jesse?” Her breath caught and she waited, hoping his answer could relieve the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Michaela Creeve.”

  “When?” She could hardly croak out the words. But she had to know. “When did it happen?”

  “When we were in Chicago.”

  “Wait a minute.” She scooted her chair back a few inches. “Something happened in Chicago? Or she accused you in Chicago?” That awful heaviness returned.

  “No.” He held up a hand. “I’m not being very clear. I just found out about her accusations. But in Chicago Michaela got pretty . . . familiar. A little too friendly for my taste. So when we got back, I—”

  Corinne stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘too friendly’?”

  “Just . . . stupid little things. Like leaning on me. Touching me when she was talking to me and—”

  “Leaning on you? Touching you? Where did she touch you?”

  “Just . . . putting her hand on my arm. Or my shoulder. Nothing that I could really make accusations about, but it made me uncomfortable. And when I dropped her off at her car when we got back from the trip—she hugged me.”

  Her face must have conveyed something because Jesse held up a hand. “Even that was nothing inappropriate exactly. No different than the way your sisters hug me— Well, maybe more than that. I’m sure you would have considered it flirting.”

  “Yes, and you never see that. You never get when women are flirting with you until it’s gone too far.”

  “I know. I know . . . I thought of how often you’ve said that. But it truly wasn’t anything I could accuse her about. I tried to just ignore it, but then after she called me at your folks’ house last week, I figured I’d better nip it in the bud.”

  “What did she want that night anyway?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. She never mentioned it at work and I didn’t ask.”

  “And she’s claiming sexual harassment for that? That’s ridiculous!”

  “Well, I think it’s more than that.”

  She tilted her head and eyed him. “Like?”

  “Wednesday morning I asked to meet with her. Just to politely ask her again not to call my cell phone outside of work hours. I tried to get a conference room—so no one would overhear and misunderstand. But they were all taken, so I called her into my office.”

  Corinne waited, trying to picture it all unfolding. Outside the window, she could hear their daughters’ laughter. Oh, to be so carefree and innocent again.

  Jesse sighed and gave a lopsided grin. “It didn’t go so well. She said I gave her the ‘wrong impression’ ”—he chalked quote marks in the air—“but I swear, Corinne, I have no idea what she’s even talking about.”

  “So she thought you were coming on to her?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t ask what she meant because I didn’t want to know.”

  “Well, maybe you should have.” She looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. She wanted to believe Jesse, but the fact that the first thing her mind had gone to—when he’d said he needed to talk to her—was Michaela . . . That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  “Corinne, I did not do anything remotely inappropriate.”

  “Then how can she be accusing you? What exactly is she claiming?”

  “That I made inappropriate advances . . . of a sexual nature.”

  “You didn’t though?” She held her breath, praying there wasn’t more to this.

  “Of course not. Corinne.” His voice took on an edge, and she saw the hurt in his eyes. “You can’t really mean that?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, Jesse. I must admit I thought it was odd that she was the one who called to tell me your flights were delayed—flying back from Chicago.”

  “I was on the phone with a client. We were about to board. I didn’t want you worrying.”

  She did believe him . . . Didn’t she? “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Because there was nothing to tell. Not really.”

  “Apparently there was.” She hadn’t intended her voice to sound so hard.

  “I did nothing wrong, Corinne. This is all completely trumped up.” He looked over her head at the clock on the dining room wall. “We’re going to be late.”

  “I know.” She scooted her chair back a few inches. “We’ll talk more when we get home. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  She tipped her head. “Why are you sorry?” Should she be reading some kind of confession into that?

  “I’m sorry to have to drag you through this.”

  “Wait—is this going to b
e . . . public? Did she talk to someone else about it?” She hadn’t thought about that aspect of it until this moment.

  “I don’t know. I hope not. But she filled out a form with some State commission.”

  “What?” Corinne tensed. “You mean she’s accusing you . . . legally?”

  “Frank says it’s not legal yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “She essentially filled out the forms and gave them to Frank . . . as a warning, he says. He doesn’t think she’ll even turn them in to the State. But he feels like they have to handle it in-house.”

  “What does that mean? Some kind of slap on the hand for you?”

  He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “That makes me furious! Why should they take her word over yours?”

  “I don’t know, Corinne. But let’s not worry before we have to.”

  Easy for him to say. She immediately felt bad for thinking it. This wasn’t easy for him. Of course not. But it was no picnic for her either.

  He pushed back his chair and stood. “We really need to get going. I’ll get the girls. And we’ll talk more tonight. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I just didn’t want to go to your parents’ without telling you—just in case rumors have already gotten around.”

  “Do you really think people will find out about this? About her accusations?”

  “I hope not. But you know Langhorne. It is a small town. I wonder if I need to warn my mom? I’d hate for her to hear this from someone else.”

  She looked at the ceiling. “Oh, please, God. Don’t let that happen.”

  “Believe me, I’ve been praying that all day.”

  All day? How long had he known about this?

  But before she could ask him, Jesse came around the table and took her hands in his, pulling her up. He cradled her hands against his chest and leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. She recognized his prelude to prayer. It comforted her to realize that it was a habit as ingrained in their marriage as their good-night kisses.

  “Dear God,” Jesse said, sounding strong and confident. “Just please help us get through this. Don’t let it come to anything, but . . . just let the truth come out.”

  She felt the earnestness of his whispered prayer in his breath on her face, and in her heart. “Amen,” she whispered.

  God, help me to trust my husband. And please . . . let him be trustworthy.

  9

  Daddy, will you come down to the climbing tree with me and Sadie? Poppa said he’s too old to climb trees.”

  Jesse laughed. Sari asked so sweetly that he hated to turn her down, but he’d promised to help Grant at the grill. “Not now, sweetie. I’m going to help Poppa with the steaks.”

  Right now climbing a tree sounded pretty good. He would like nothing better than to go hide out by the creek. And climbing a tree sounded like a good way to escape the scrutiny of Corinne’s family. Much as he loved them, it could be disconcerting how well they read each other’s moods—including his. And he wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened at work. He was still hoping that the whole ugly mess would just go away and he’d never have to tell a soul. He and Corinne had agreed they wouldn’t say anything tonight, but he knew it would be a tense evening for both of them.

  “Did I hear something about climbing a tree?” Corinne’s brother snuck up behind Sari and scooped her into his arms.

  She giggled and twined her arms around his neck. “Will you go with us, Uncle Link?”

  Link turned to Jesse. “You okay if I take them down to the creek?”

  “Sure. I have no doubt you’ll hear the dinner bell.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. And by the way, I already have dibs on the biggest steak.”

  “Not if I’m helping your dad man the grill, you don’t.” Jesse and his brother-in-law had been ribbing each other since the first time Jesse had driven out to pick Corinne up for their first date on a hot Fourth of July. Link had been a smart-aleck fourteen-year-old then, and in the process of showing off, had accidentally launched a firecracker at his sister’s date. The Black Cat had somehow landed inside Jesse’s collar before exploding, and he still had the burn scar on his chest to show for it. Corinne always said she would never have forgiven her brother if he’d scared off the love of her life.

  He looked across the yard to where Corinne and her mother were talking on the front porch. Even from the distance, he could see the worry etching new lines on his wife’s forehead. But she still looked beautiful to him. It would have taken a lot more than a wayward firecracker to change his mind about Corinne Whitman. Oh to go back to those simpler days.

  The heady aroma of beef steaks on the grill reminded him of his promise to Grant, and he gave Link a quick salute and ambled to the grill where Grant was taming flames with a spray bottle.

  “What can I do?”

  “Hey, Jesse.” Grant aimed the spray nozzle beneath the grate that held a dozen juicy steaks. He squeezed the trigger, and the flame sizzled and died down. “I think I just about have this fire whipped into submission, and the steaks will be ready in a few minutes. Audrey wanted to put some hot dogs on too; if you want to go in and get those, that’d be great.”

  “Will do.” He was grateful for an excuse to escape. He’d tried to avoid his father-in-law tonight because usually the topic of conversation between the two of them was business. If he told Grant that things at Preston-Brilon were going well, it would be a lie, and if he said work was awful, there was no way he could avoid explaining why. He wasn’t ready for that. Not until he and Corinne got a chance to talk things over. If only this whole mess would just fizzle out . . .

  Audrey and Corinne had disappeared from the porch, but he followed their voices into the kitchen where they were loading trays with condiments and bowls of potato salad and baked beans. They abruptly quit talking the minute he appeared. He tried to catch Corinne’s eye, but she turned her back and busied herself with something at the sink. Surely she hadn’t told her mother . . .

  “Grant’s ready for the hot dogs,” he said.

  “Oh . . .” Audrey motioned toward the fridge. “They’re in the meat drawer. There should be a few brats in there leftover from last Tuesday if you want to put those on too.”

  Corinne moved to get something out of the cupboard, and he tried again to catch her eye, to give her an everything-will-be-okay look before he went back outside. She seemed determined not to see him. She and her mom had to have been talking about what had happened. Corinne hadn’t agreed not to tell anyone, and he knew she and her mother were close. Still, he felt somehow betrayed. Neither of them knew enough about what Michaela’s accusations—her intentions—even were to be talking about this outside of their marriage.

  A fleeting thought nagged at him and he examined it as he walked back to deliver the hotdogs and brats to Grant.

  What would his relationship with Corinne be like when the dust finally settled from Michaela’s accusations? Could his wife forgive him? And if the situation had been reversed, would he forgive her?

  * * *

  Corinne carried a tray laden with paper plates and cups full of ice out to the backyard where Dad had twinkle lights strung up in the trees and woven through the pergola. It was a perfect evening and she would have relished the chance to be with her extended family if not for the awful knowledge hanging over her head.

  She’d managed to avoid Jesse’s scrutiny—or at least to avoid meeting his gaze—most of the evening, but she was on pins and needles, afraid the subject of his job would come up as it nearly always did when the men started exchanging war stories.

  The little girls had finished eating and begged permission to go play on the new tire swing Dad had put up in a corner of the yard. She glanced over and saw Simone toddling between the fence and the edge of the deck, chirping happily to herself. Sari was swinging, pumping with her spindly legs and leaning back so far her long honey-colored hair brushed the grass.

  Corinne didn’t see Sadie. She
pushed her plate toward the center of the table. “I’m going to go check on the girls. Anyone want anything while I’m up?”

  “I’ll go,” Jesse said. “Anyone need—” His cell phone rang before he could finish.

  “I’ll go.” Corinne told him, trying not to roll her eyes at that infernal phone. And wondering suddenly if it was Michaela Creeve on the other end.

  She slipped out of the picnic table bench seat and followed Jesse toward the house. She watched him check his phone and thought he looked puzzled—or was it distress on his face? He lowered his voice and she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but guessed it must be about that woman’s accusations.

  She kept walking toward the house, her mind reeling. What was going on that they would call him after work hours? Or was it Michaela herself calling?

  Her stomach clenched. Could there really be something going on between Jesse and that woman? She heard her daughters’ voices and went around the side of the house to check on them. Simone was sitting on the ground, and Sari and Sadie stood over her doing something to her head. Imagining the girls’ with Gram’s scissors and Simone with a patchy haircut, Corinne jogged to where they were standing. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Look at Simone, Mommy. She’s a princess!” Sari stepped back to reveal the baby with a wreath of Virginia Creeper and wildflowers on her head. Simone giggled and reached up to touch her crown.

  Corinne laughed and curtsied. “Don’t you look beautiful, Your Highness.”

  The older girls giggled and helped Simone to her feet. She toddled over to Corinne, but the wreath fell over her eyes and she stumbled. Corinne caught her and righted the wreath. Then gasped as she recognized a suspicious three-pointed leaf in the mix.

  “Sadie, that’s poison ivy!” She tossed the wreath to the ground.

  “No, it’s not, Mama. It’s ’Ginia Creeper.”

  Corinne found a branch and hooked the wreath with it. “See the leaves. Remember about the points? This is Virginia Creeper . . . it has five leaves. See?” She counted aloud, pointing to each leaf tip. “But poison ivy has three leaves.”

  The girls counted them with her, keeping their distance from the leaves.