A Long Walk Home

Her features twisted in disbelief. “Surely, it’s not serious, or you’d have told me about this man sooner.”

I curled my hands around the warm mug of tea, tried to steady my grip, tried to soften the impact.

I went for broke, no more skirting the issue. “He loves me, and I love him.”

“What about Paul?”

Paul’s dead.

Too blunt, too hurtful. I sucked in my lower lip and blew out a soft breath. “I can’t bring Paul back.”

“You mourned your husband for less than a year,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “How can you do this?”

She made it sound as though I’d cheated on her son.

I wanted to ask her how long I should mourn a man who’d betrayed me. I considered shattering her distorted image of her son, but I couldn’t do that to her.

“I was a good wife to Paul while he was alive. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life alone.”

Avoiding eye contact, she stared across the room. Tense silence stretched between us until I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“I just need a chance to accept this,” she said, her voice hollow. “I know Paul is gone. I know we can’t bring him back. You’re young. You have a right to be happy. Maybe you’ll even have children. I could be their grandmother,” she said, a tinge of hope creeping into her tone.

Tony already had three children from his first marriage. He’d made it clear he didn’t want any more babies. I understood. Plus, I’d reached the point in my life where I no longer yearned to hold an infant in my arms and to watch my child grow: first steps, first words, being loved unconditionally.

At least I didn’t think I did.

“I’m a bit old to have babies,” I said, not wanting to lead her astray.

“You’re still young. Nowadays I can’t turn on the news without hearing of some actress having a baby in her forties. Lots of women are having children later in life. You could, too.” She sighed again and looked at me. “I apologize for overreacting a few minutes ago. I just never thought of you with another man. I can’t fathom seeing you with anyone but my Paul, but that’s silly of me.” She paused for a moment as if absorbing what she couldn’t change. “Maybe we can discuss your Tony in a few days after I’ve had a chance to think this through.” Her voice softened. “You and Paul were perfect together.”

I’d thought so, too.

We were far from perfect, only I didn’t discover that until after his funeral.

Vi reached across the table and took my hands in hers. “I don’t blame you for trying to find that close bond again. Give me a little while to think about this. I’m sure in time I can accept that you’ve found another man to love you. I certainly can’t blame you for wanting to get married again.”

I’d dreaded this most, but I’d come this far, it wasn’t time to back down. “Tony is moving in tomorrow, but we don’t intend to get married.”

Vi’s face flushed, and she pulled her hands away. She made the sign of the cross and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, I saw disbelief and shame.

“This is a disgrace to Paul’s memory.”

CHAPTER 2

T wo weeks later on my way home from work I stopped at the florist and arranged for a bouquet of red roses to be delivered to Violet. Since she was the most stubborn woman I’d ever met, I knew she wouldn’t make the first move. I’d missed her. I signed the card, Love, Annie. Now it was up to her to respond.

I pulled my white Volvo into my driveway next to Tony’s silver Porsche. I owned a modest three-bedroom cape in Gray, Maine, a small town on the outskirts of Portland. After Paul died, I’d used some of the money from his life insurance to re-decorate and try to wash away some of the painful memories. I’d moved out of the master bedroom and chose the smaller room which faced my backyard and my flower garden. I’d added a sunroom off the deck and invested in a hot tub, something I’d wanted for years but Paul had considered frivolous.

I’d felt a deep sense of power the day the hot tub had arrived. Although I suspected my purchase might have been partially an act of defiance, it was also a milestone: the day I started to take charge of my life.

Tony owned a house in Saco that he planned to rent on a month to month tenancy. Neither of us was willing to surrender our independence.

As I opened the kitchen door, the spicy smell of oregano and thyme teased my nostrils. Tony stood at the stove, his broad shoulders hunched as he stirred the pasta sauce. He turned and smiled at me. Due to the steam, a stray lock of his deep brown hair curled over his forehead. He hated that his hair waved, but I loved running my fingers through the thick, silky strands.

“How’s my Italian?” I asked, walking toward him for the kiss I craved. “I’m famished.”

“I’m horny.”

“What else is new,” I said with a laugh.

“You’re to blame, always giving me that ‘she-devil’ look.”

I laughed. “What you see is the look of a starving woman.”

“Starving, huh, in more ways than one, I bet.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“When it comes to you, I am,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. His lips claimed mine in a kiss filled with need and passion.

Tony pulled away a little and leaned his forehead against mine. “That’s some welcome. Say the word, and I’ll abandon this meal.”

“Not so fast, Bucko.” I playfully wrenched free. “What’s a woman gotta do around here to get fed?”

“She needs to stop seducing the cook,” he said with that crooked grin I loved.

I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and exposed a little of my white slip. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“You’re a wicked tease,” he said, lifting his right eyebrow. “You’d better plan on tipping the help…if you know what I mean.”

“Incorrigible…”

“That’s because you’re a wanton sexy hussy.”

I glanced down at my gray pinstriped business suit. “I’d hate to think how you’d react if I were wearing a camisole and garters.”

“That’s an interesting premise. Go ahead, I dare you….” His smile deepened. His eyes darkened a few shades.

“I hate to disappoint you, but I was planning on changing into jeans and a flannel shirt.”

“You’ll look sexy no matter what you wear.” He picked up the wooden spoon and winked.

“Hold that thought,” I said as I turned and walked through the living room and into my bedroom.

In the short time we’d been living together, I’d come to enjoy the camaraderie. And the dynamite sex. More than lovers, we were friends. Tony made me happy.

We completed each other….