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Spotting Rachel, Francine shrieked. Ted turned. His jaw dropped, but surprise quickly changed to irritation. He stood up, scowling, and grabbed two robes lying within reach. Moving in front of Francine, he managed to shield her as she scrambled into it, giving Rachel only a glimpse of her in the buff. Then he climbed out without any obvious haste. Rachel avoided more than a glimpse of his shriveled penis by looking beyond him while he donned a robe. Francine hovered warily just behind him, looking as if she thought Rachel might be armed.
Later, in telling Marta about it, Rachel had found some humor in the situation, but she felt no inclination to laugh now. She knew suddenly with a sick, sad resignation that her marriage was truly over. It would not be possible to get beyond actually seeing Ted with Francine this way.
“What do you mean by barging in here like this, Rachel?” Thanks to Walter, his left eye was puffy and half closed, making his outrage seem almost comical. She could not tell if his nose was broken, but she could always hope.
“Isn’t it obvious, Ted? I’m mad as hell and you’re going to hear about it whether you like it or not.”
“For God’s sake!” he said in disgust. “What does it take to convince you? Didn’t you hear anything I said this morning? I’m in love with Francine. She loves me and we want to be together. We’re going to be together whether you like it or not. Go home and get a life.”
Rachel mastered an urge to leap over the hot tub and scratch his other eye out. “I’m not here because I want anything from you, you thoughtless bastard! I’m here because of the sneaky way you packed up and left. Why didn’t you wait until Nick and Kendall came home so you could at least try to reassure them? Don’t you give a damn about your kids anymore? Is…is this—” she threw her arm out to include the house, the deck, the hot tub, Francine “—all you care about now?”
He looked irritated and anything but repentant. “I was planning on calling them later tonight.”
Fresh from a romp in the hot tub, he was still too dazzled to feel any guilt, Rachel thought. “Are you sure you can spare the time?” she asked sarcastically.
“Give it a rest, Rachel.” He stuck his feet into rubber slides and reached for his Rolex. “I still love my kids and I’ll explain how this happened.”
“How exactly will you explain it, Ted?” she asked, seeing that she wasn’t getting through to him. “Like you explained it to me? One day you and Francine were friends and the next you were having sex together? I think they’ve got that part already, thanks to the scene in our home this morning. And Nick, for one, is mad as hell over it. Kendall is simply bewildered.”
“It’ll take some getting used to, but they’ll be okay with it,” he said, dismissing almost casually something that was going to turn his children’s lives upside down. “That is, unless you go behind my back and paint me as evil incarnate.”
“You know better than that, Ted.”
His face was tight, his eyes hard. “These things happen a lot, Rachel. Probably half Nick and Kendy’s friends are part of blended families.”
“Blended families,” she repeated. “That has such a benign sound, doesn’t it? But I know from dealing with those kids every day that there’s pain and depression and jealousy jockeying for position in ‘blended families.”’ She used her fingers to make quotation marks. “And you don’t have a clue, Ted. So, don’t try to spin the effect of what you’re doing to me. It’s going to be devastating for Nick and Kendy. Even the most amicable divorces do terrible damage to the children involved.”
Ted let out an exasperated breath. “You sound like you’re reading some kind of research paper, Rachel. You’re exaggerating, as usual. You see only the screwed-up kids in your job. Nick and Kendy will be fine.”
Was he really so obtuse? She stared at him, her husband of eighteen years. He seemed totally unaffected by her attempt to bring him to his senses. When had it happened that this man whom she’d known more intimately than any other had become a stranger? “And what if they aren’t, Ted?”
“Ted…” Francine finally spoke, touching his arm. “Any discussion about your kids is between you and Rachel. It doesn’t concern me. Why don’t I—”
“Excuse me?” Rachel gave her an incredulous look. “You claim to be in love with Ted and the two of you want to be together, but you have no concern about the future of his children?”
“I don’t know anything about kids,” Francine said, looking uncomfortable. “Walter and I chose not to have any.”
“Do you even like kids, Francine?”
She shrugged, said nothing.
“What about that, Ted?” Rachel asked.
“What about it?” he repeated with some resentment. “Francine and I haven’t decided on our own future yet, so all this talk about kids is premature.”
“Is it premature to ask you to find an hour away from your love nest to talk to Nick and Kendall?”
“I told you I’m planning on it.”
“Not on the phone. In person. It’s the least you can do.”
“All right, all right.” He reached for Francine and slipped his arm around her waist. “But the next time you get a wild idea to come charging out here, have the decency to knock first.”
Rachel was still furious as she drove away from the cabin. As much as she hated to admit it, Cameron Ford had been right. She needed a lawyer. Worse yet, she must have sounded like a naive twit defending Ted. Well, so be it. Since it was now obvious that she couldn’t protect them from Ted’s callousness, she could at least try to protect the lifestyle they were accustomed to. Knowing time was now of the essence, she picked up her cell phone, punched the information number and asked for a listing for Stephanie Roscoe.
Six
By the middle of the week, the news was all over town that Ted Forrester was having an affair and had left Rachel and the kids. It was impossible for word of the scandal not to reach into every nook and cranny of Rose Hill. Everywhere she went—from church to the grocery store, from the shopping mall to staff meetings at school—Rachel felt herself the object of pitying looks and worse, the morbid curiosity people had about infidelity when it struck someone they knew.
“I feel like an all-too-familiar cliché,” she told Marta in the break room on Wednesday. “I’m the nearly forty, boring wife who’s been dumped for the more exciting, sexy younger woman.” She stirred powdered cream into her coffee. “And you know what, Marta? It happens so often that it doesn’t even shock people anymore. I’m the only one who’s shocked. What they say is true. The wife’s the last to know. What galls me the most is that I should have seen it coming.”
“How could you when you just don’t think that way? And you aren’t boring.” Marta worked at the tab on a can of soda. “Besides, you’d never cheat even if you were bored to death and sexually frustrated to boot. You’d look for solutions.” She stopped with the can at her mouth. “I guess you’re thinking of suggesting counseling to him…or something like that, huh?”
Rachel leaned against the counter holding her coffee. “It takes two, Marta. And Ted’s not interested in trying to save our marriage. He just wants to get on with the transition from husband and father to unfettered bachelor, ASAP.”
“What a guy.”
Rachel stood in silence for a few moments. “I’ve retained a lawyer.”
Eyes wide, Marta set her can down hard. “Now you’ve surprised me. This is good. This is smart. What did he say?”
“She. It’s Stephanie Roscoe. She urged me to be at the bank when it opened Monday morning. I thought Ted probably wouldn’t be devious enough to fool around with our finances without consulting me, but after that scene at the lake, I wasn’t willing to risk taking the chance. Besides, I’d only learned about the affair on Friday and I assumed he wouldn’t have had time to do anything.”
“I think I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
Rachel still felt stunned. “But apparently, right after the scene with Walter, he went to a branch of our bank that’s open on Saturday and drew out almost all our ready cash, then he fixed it so that nearly everything else is blocked. So until we work out some agreement for the division of our joint assets, I’m pretty much dependent on what he sees fit to dole out. It’s humiliating to be the object of everyone’s pity now that his affair is public, but this makes it even worse. On top of being infuriated, I’m frustrated as hell, Marta.”
“What happened to ‘I only want a separation,”’ Marta asked, looking openly disgusted.
Rachel’s effort to laugh fell short. “After I ripped into him at the cabin, I think he’s probably rushing to have divorce papers drawn up. Which is fine with me.” She was still furious over the sneaky way he’d moved out, but her tirade had prodded him into facing the kids. He had shown up soon after they came home that day and made a lame attempt to explain why he was leaving. Nick was stoic, for the most part. And Kendall was a little weepy, bless her heart. Rachel had remained silent, and after Ted left, she’d had a hard time keeping her own resentment from showing when they’d plied her with tons of questions.
“What does Stephanie say?”
“That I’m certainly not to sit still and let him take advantage of me. She and I worked out some terms of the separation on Sunday and he was served with the papers Monday morning at the practice.” Making a face, she set her coffee aside. “I’ve tried to reach him ever since, but he’s obviously avoiding me. I just hope there aren’t any other stunning surprises in store.”
Both looked up as the door to the break room opened and Monk Tyson entered.
“Hey, Rachel. Marta. How’s it goin’, gals?” Lifting the coffeepot, he poured himself a cup and turned, propping one hip against the small table, his feet crossed at the ankles.
“Just peachy,” Marta said. “And you?”
“Same here. Couldn’t be better.” Rose Hill’s coach and athletic director looked exactly what he was—an athlete just past his prime. His broad shoulders were a little too thick and he wasn’t as buff as he’d once been. But he was a good-looking man with strong features, very light blue eyes and a full head of sandy-blond hair.
“Morning, Monk.” Rachel was not in the mood for Monk’s chitchat. Just the opposite. He’d ignored the last note she sent him about Ferdy Jordan, one of his athletes who was one point away from academic probation. As a coach, he needed to take a stronger hand in encouraging his athletes academically instead of helping them get around the standards established by the school. It was an ongoing battle between them that she was determined to win for the sake of the athletes.
He leaned against the counter with his coffee and spoke to Rachel. “Hey, I heard about Ted and it stinks to high heaven. What’s wrong with that guy? He’s got steak at home and he wants hamburger instead?” He shook his head. “I hope you don’t let it get you down.”
“I think I’ll survive,” she said coldly. Inside, she cringed with humiliation. She’d had no doubt that all of Rose Hill was buzzing with the scandal, but having Monk chatting about it so casually was particularly embarrassing.
“Hard to figure what comes over guys when they get to that stage,” he said.
“What stage is that, Monk?” Marta asked in an even tone.
“Well, you know.” He turned back to get a paper napkin. “They’re forty-something, they get an itch, they spot a sweet thing and, wham, they lose their minds.”
With both hands around her can of soda, Marta looked at him. “Hmm, that is deep.”
Unfazed, he looked at Rachel. “I’m glad I ran into you, Rachel. I’d planned to drop by later today.”
“You got my note about Ferdy?”
“Yeah, but he’ll be okay. I’ll jack him up and he’ll get it together. It’s Nick I wanted to talk about.”
“Nick?” She paused, her cup in midair.
Using the napkin, he wiped at a few drops of coffee on his shirt. “He’s been looking real good in practice lately, so much so, that I’m thinking he’ll work into first-base position next year. It would hurt if he was to let this get next to him, trip him up enough to take the edge off his performance.”
“Let what get next to him, Monk?” she asked carefully.
“The divorce. It sometimes takes the juice out of a kid. Trust me, I see it all the time.”
Beyond winning ball games, Monk ranked low on a list of people she trusted to be sensitive to a boy in emotional turmoil. If Nick was too demoralized over Ted’s abandonment to play baseball, then she didn’t give a damn what Monk thought about it. She knew his priority was the athletic program. All that mattered now was Nick’s survival.
“As for my alleged divorce, I don’t know where you heard that, Monk, and I certainly don’t intend to discuss my private life here,” Rachel said. And with Monk, never, she wanted to say, but didn’t. It was a struggle to keep her voice steady. “Ted and I are having some difficulties. It would be ludicrous to deny that, under the circumstances, but divorce…no.” At least, not yet.
“Well, sure,” Monk said easily. “But I just thought I’d mention it, in case it comes to that. Kids overreact to this stuff. And the hurt can extend to every little corner of a kid’s life.”
“You mean, as in his position on the team?” Rachel guessed. “I’m touched by the depth of your concern.”
“Well, hell, Rachel, you know what I mean,” he said, undeterred by her sarcasm. “It would hurt us all, Nick as well as the guys on the team. You know our stats are high so far this season and the Mustangs are gonna make the playoffs if all goes well and the creek don’t rise. We need everybody to stay focused. So, what I’m saying is I hope you’ll be on the lookout for trouble or for signs that he’s not handling this too good, divorce or not. A kid sees separation of his parents as traumatic as the real thing.”
“As a guidance counselor, trust me, I’m aware of that,” Rachel said, now openly sarcastic.
“You bet. So if that happens, you call me. I stand ready to listen if he wants to talk. Better than that, I’m willing to spend extra time with him. I just want you to know that.”
“Thank you, Monk,” she said. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Hey, I’m glad to do it.” Hearing no irony in her voice, he turned to go.
“Just a minute…before you go…” Rachel set her cup down and followed him to the door. Tyson’s remarks about Nick were out of line, but she couldn’t let her personal bias about the man keep her from tending to the needs of at-risk students. And one of his athletes was definitely at risk. “I’m trying to persuade Jason Pate to come in and talk to me,” she told him. “I have a feeling he’s troubled about something and his drinking is a way of coping. But so far he’s resisting. It’s alcohol now, but drugs will be the next crutch if something isn’t done, and I don’t think his parents are going to be much support right now. Maybe you could suggest that talking to me is a good thing. From the little I got from him on our way home from Dallas, your approval would do it.”
“Aw, I just think he’s one of those kids who like to binge. I don’t think he’s headed for alcoholism or anything. If that’s what you’re worrying about, you can let it go. He’s okay.”
“Bingeing is an early-warning sign, Monk,” she said stiffly.
“Well, we’ll see.” He flashed her a smile. “I’ll mention it. The kid’s got a future in pro ball if he doesn’t screw it up.”
“I’d really like to talk to him.” She was pushing, but it was necessary. She’d misread Jack Ford with tragic consequences and she was determined not to make the same mistake with another boy ever again.
“Hey, I’ll try.” He shifted to see around her and, spotting the trash, tossed his empty cup toward the can in a basketball-like free throw. It went in smartly. “Gotta go, gals.” He left, grinning.
“I have never been able to figure that guy out,” Marta said as she and Rachel watched him stride confidently down the hall. “Have you ever noticed when you see him interact with those young athletes? They’re all around him, buzzing like little bees around the queen.” She grimaced at her own metaphor. “Planets, I guess I should say. They’re like little planets around the sun, Monk being the sun.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Rachel said, picking up her coffee. “He definitely has a way where they’re concerned. Charisma, I suppose.”
“Or something,” Marta said dryly. “To tell the truth, I never got it. Too pushy and jocklike for my taste. But, whatever he has going for him, we know it works. Like he said, they’re headed for the play-offs and will probably finish first in the division again this year.”
Rachel gathered up paperwork she’d meant to scan and fell into step with Marta. “We know he’ll do anything for his precious sports program, but does he care at all about those boys’ future beyond sports? I wonder sometimes. I’ve dealt with him for the past five years and I still don’t know the answer to that.” She made a mental note not to depend on Monk to persuade Jason. She’d do it herself, somehow.
But even as she dismissed Tyson’s disinterest about Jason, his remarks about Nick made her uneasy. So far, Nick had not shared what he felt about Ted’s leaving with her, but she knew there was a lot going on inside him. He was moody and uncommunicative and Rachel guessed he needed time to get his head around such a drastic change. Ted had been neglectful lately, but at least he’d been in the house. Not being a presence anymore, albeit a shadowy one, was the new reality for Kendall and Nick. Coach Monk’s offer might be a welcome distraction, she thought, frowning with concern over Nick again. The man seemed to have the right touch when it came to his players. And at least he’d recognized the fact that Nick’s life was turned upside down, which was more than she could say about Ted.
Nick walked into the locker room, stripping off his practice jersey as he went. He’d been off his game today and there was nothing he hated worse. “I really sucked out there today,” he complained to Ward in disgust. “I should never have let that grounder get past me.”
“It happens.” Ward Rivers, who’d been in the same class as Nick since kindergarten, pulled his locker door open and tossed his cleats inside, then stripped off his jersey. “Coach didn’t say anything, so don’t sweat it.”
Nick sat down on a bench to remove his cleats. Coach had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but so far Nick hadn’t seen that side of him. He’d always been pretty nice. He rose to put the cleats into his locker as three athletes rounded the corner. Jason Pate, in the act of removing his jersey as he walked, hardly noticed him or anyone else. But Ferdy Jordan, second-string outfielder, stopped and so did his butt-ugly sidekick, B. J. Folsom, who was practically Ferdy’s shadow. Everybody knew B.J. didn’t take a dump unless Ferdy told him how.
Ferdy grinned slyly, while idly passing a baseball from one hand to the other. “Hey, Forrester! Heard about your old man.”
B.J. snickered. “Whoa, way to go, Forrester. Gettin’ it on with the partner’s wife.”
“Knock it off, you jerks,” Ward said with disgust. He slammed the door of his locker shut. “I think I hear your mothers calling.”
“Wait, wait,” Ferdy said, pointing to Nick. “His mom’s supposed to have all the answers, right? She tells everybody what to do and how to do it, and now we find out she don’t know how to run her own life. So, Nicky, what’s her take on old Teddy-boy screwin’ around?”
Nick dropped the cleats and leaped over the bench, bent on ripping Ferdy’s face off, but before Ward could step in, Jason Pate suddenly appeared from the next bank of lockers and quickly got a choke hold on Ferdy’s neck. “Get a life, you dumb shit,” he told Ferdy, then gave a nod to Ward to force Nick, still bristling, back over the bench. When he saw that Nick was restrained, he let Ferdy go. “What the hell you guys doing?” The question was meant for Ferdy and B.J.
Ferdy, not dumb enough to challenge somebody of Jason’s stature, moved backward with his hands up, palms out. “Hey, man, we were just horsin’ around.”
“Yeah, right.” Jason shoved Ferdy’s ball glove back into his hands with a little more force than was necessary. “Then next time, horse around with somebody who appreciates redneck humor.” And with a disgusted look, he swept up his jersey and headed on back to the senior lockers.
Ward still kept a restraining hand on Nick and watched as both Ferdy and B.J. couldn’t leave fast enough. “You okay, Nick?”
Nick tossed his cleats into the metal locker and slammed the door. Then he stood a moment just looking at the puke-green surface. His heart was pounding and he felt a deep, red rage building inside. He wanted to take somebody’s head off and Ferdy Jordan was his first choice. Ferdy had no class. He had no talent on the field. He had nothing but a smart-ass mouth and one day—
“Sometimes I think I hate him, Ward.”
“Yeah, well, Ferdy’s the kind of jerk you do hate, man. He’s worthless. Forget him.”
“Not Ferdy. I meant my dad.”
“Oh, jeez, Nick.”
Nick pulled a towel from around his neck and stuffed it into his gym bag. “How could he do this? What was so awful about us that he’d want to cut out? I know it’s happened to other people and all, but you don’t know how it feels until it happens to you.”
“Yeah, it’s the shits, man.”
Nick just stood holding his bag for a moment. “And you’re right. Ferdy’s a jerk. I guess I lost it there for a minute.”
