We sat down on worn couches, and she began opening up.
She told me Elaine’s husband vanished after her death. He just disappeared, leaving no forwarding address and no goodbye.
The police asked questions, then stopped asking them.
“He said he needed time,” she said. “Then he never came back.”
I tentatively asked about the boy.
Susan stiffened. “Why are you asking about my son?”
“I’m curious,” I said, hating myself.
“Then he never came back.”
“Curiosity costs,” she said sharply. “What do you want?”
I looked at the boy, who was coloring quietly, and said the truth I could manage. “I want to understand who Mark, my husband, really is.”
Her face went pale, and she clammed up. It was clear she was hiding something.
Susan quickly rushed me out of her house, accusing me of lying about who I was.
I tried to explain why I’d lied, but she wouldn’t hear it.
“What do you want?”
I went straight to the hospital, hoping Mark was awake.
He was, but still weak. I stood at his hospital bed and watched him closely.
“Where have you been?” he asked, choking on the last three words.
I met his gaze.
“I went to your storage unit.”
Silence filled the room.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally.
“I already did,” I replied. “So start talking.”
Mark swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the door as if he expected someone to walk in and save him.
…hoping Mark was awake.
“You had no right,” he said, his voice thin. “That unit was private.”
“I’m your wife,” I said quietly. “Or at least I thought I was.”
He turned his face away, staring at the wall.
For a long moment, he said nothing. I waited. I had learned patience over the years, but it had limits.
“Her name was Elaine,” I said. “I know that much. I know she was your wife. I know she died. And I know you disappeared after.”
His shoulders sagged, as if something inside him had finally given up.
“You had no right.”
“I was hoping you’d never find that wallet,” he said.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
He closed his eyes. “I didn’t kill her.”
“I didn’t say you did,” I replied. “But something happened that scared you enough to run.”
He looked at me then, and I saw fear there.
“It was an accident,” he said. “We’d been arguing. Elaine fell down the stairs. Neighbors heard raised voices. I found her at the bottom, not moving.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
My chest tightened. “And they thought it was you.”
“They thought it could’ve been,” he said. “They questioned me for weeks. They tore my life apart. Every look I got said the same thing. They didn’t believe me.”
“So you ran.”
“I broke,” he said. “I couldn’t breathe in that house anymore. Everywhere I went, I felt her. Susan blamed me. I don’t blame her for that.”
“They tore my life apart.”
I thought of Susan’s tired face, of the way she guarded her words. “You left her alone.”
“I know,” he whispered. “That guilt never left me.”
“And yet you married me,” I said. “You built a life.”
“I didn’t plan to,” he said quickly. “I met you years later. I told myself I was someone new. I thought if I stayed good, steady, honest with you, it would balance out what I’d lost.”
“Except you weren’t honest,” I said.
“You left her alone.”
He nodded. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d look at me and see a man who ran from grief.”
I laughed once, sharp and bitter. “I see a man who ran from responsibility.”
His eyes filled. “I’m sorry.”
I believed him. That surprised me.
continued on next page
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
