Pictures of Ida and Reggie watched me from their perch on the mantel. Fire churned in my middle, spiking my veins with a potent cocktail of frustration and humiliation with a twist of betrayal. “Or how about kicking her out with nowhere to go?” With nothing more than a few changes of clothes, a couple of toiletries, and the cash in my purse.
The line went silent. I paused, my heart thudding. I’d never spoken to him like that before. But pain and distance could make a person bold.
“I deserved that.”
Was that actually remorse? My throat constricted. Now what? Would he ask me to come back? I looked around Ida’s living room. This house represented all the things I’d always wanted. A fresh life. A family.
The sudden pinch in my heart surprised me. When he’d first kicked me out and kept everything, I’d dreamed of him calling me, saying he was wrong, and begging me to come back.
Now that he’d called, I suddenly realized I didn’t want that life. I didn’t want to hold his betrayal over him. Make him beg for forgiveness. Make him earn my trust back. Because, even if he did, I didn’t know if I wanted to go back to the life he’d given me.
“Look, I’m sorry.” His accent quivered with frustration. “I’m a passionate man. You know that. Italian blood and all. You always enjoyed it.”
I closed my eyes and tried to push away the dirty feeling that welled up inside me. Did I even like the person I was with him?
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, babe. All that, it’s over. Out of my system. I want you to come back. I miss you. Let’s go back to the way we were.”
And what way was that? At first, Derick had doted on me. Showered me with compliments and attention. I’d resisted him, since he owned the restaurant I worked in. But the more I turned him down, the more he pursued me. Truth be told, I’d liked the attention. And, at first, our relationship had been good. He was romantic. Took care of me. Bought me things.
Slowly, I’d made one compromise. And another. Things so small that I didn’t even realize how far those little steps had taken me. Soon, I’d moved in with him. His house was better than my little apartment. He asked more and more of me, and I gave it, because he’d already given me so many other things.
Tears pricked my eyes and burned their way out past my lids. I was so easy to use and throw away.
“Are you there?”
I unclenched my fist. “Yeah. I’m here.”
Derick’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Come home.”
Home. That word didn’t belong on Derick’s lips. He’d invited her into our “home.” I pulled my resolve up around me. “I can’t do that.”
He sighed. “I know you’re mad. But be reasonable. I can take care of you. You won’t even need that job at the school.”
He knew about that?
“I’ll take care of you, babe. You won’t have to work unless you want to. I’ll even marry you. Anything you want. Come home, and we’ll work it out.”
Something within me longed to reach out for his promise. For the comforts he could provide. Was I so desperate for security that I’d be willing to go back to a man who would probably cheat again, just so I wouldn’t be alone? A woman who had always told herself she didn’t need anyone? The hypocrisy soured my stomach.
“No.”
Surprise filled his voice. “No?” His tone turned icy. “Found yourself another man already?”
Anger boiled through me, filling my veins with fire. I looked at Ida’s picture on the mantel. She wore a fitted, calf-length dress from the ’50s. Her expression held quiet strength and a sense of dignity I longed to emulate. And that started with knowing I was worth more than the way people like Derick treated me. No matter what I had to deal with here, I wouldn’t crawl back to him.
I straightened my posture and stared at Ida’s determined features, imagining her approval. “I don’t need a man. Not you, not anyone else.”
He laughed. “Right. Keep telling yourself that. I’ll be here when you get this thing out of your system.”
I clenched my teeth.
“Love you, babe. Call me when you’re ready.”
The line went dead. I stood in the living room for a long time staring at Ida. What would she do? She’d have something wise to say, no doubt.
“You okay?” Nancy stood in the doorway.
I stuffed the phone into my back pocket. “Yeah. Fine.”
She watched me a moment. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Ida had said the same thing. And I’d let her gentle probing dig way too deep into my life. Look at all the problems that had come from that.
No, not problems. Opportunities. I’d lost Ida, but her love and acceptance had opened up part of me I’d kept walled off for a long time. Of course, now that meant I had to keep examining parts of myself I didn’t like to see. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
The timer in the kitchen dinged. “We can talk about it over a slice of fresh bread,” she said.
Since I wouldn’t have Derick watching my waistline, I let myself enjoy the idea. “With some of Ida’s fig preserves.”
Nancy grinned and led the way back into the kitchen. She sliced the hot bread, and I opened the fridge to find the jam.
“Uh, looks like you need a trip to the store.” Nancy peered around me to frown at the empty fridge.
“Oh. Yeah, I’ll get around to it.”
She didn’t comment but busied herself with slicing the bread and putting it on two white plates. “So, who was that on the phone? If you don’t mind my asking.”
The buzz of the chainsaws started again. As soon as I finished the bread, I’d need to go out there and have a look. “No one. Ex-boyfriend.”
Nancy spread the thick preserves on her slice and passed the jar to me. She took a bite. “Mmm. Delicious.”
I slathered my own slice and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. Heavenly.
“You know what would go good with that other loaf of bread? Homemade lasagna.”
I smiled. “Sure would. Put some garlic and butter on a few slices. Maybe a Caesar salad on the side.”
She plucked off a piece and popped it in her mouth. “Problem with lasagna is I always make a giant pan. Too much for two people to eat.”
I paused with a piece of bread halfway to my mouth.
“You come on over this evening, and I’ll teach you my grandmother’s recipe. Then you can help us eat it.”
She’d made the offer because of my empty fridge. My pride welled up within me against the thinly veiled charity, and I almost shook my head. But Nancy’s invitation was also neighborly friendliness. No harm in accepting a dinner invitation. I could always return the favor later.
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Nancy grinned. “And tomorrow we’ll make applesauce and apple pies.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “Or maybe a blackberry cobbler.” She shook her head. “No, those aren’t ripe yet.”
Wait a second. Did she plan to—?
“Don’t give me that look.” She pointed a bony finger at me. “You have to eat. And no one likes eating alone.” She glanced at Kitty. “Cats don’t count.”