Lindsay

As I stare into the fire, my cheek resting on Ronnie’s shoulder, it dawns on me that the ties that bind us one to another are difficult to rationalize. Most notably, the unspoken connection that creates intimacy with someone you’ve only recently met. No wonder I’ve always appeared irrational and impulsive. Once you’ve felt this way, it seems ridiculous and unappreciative to pretend the moment was simply imagination.

I’ve heard this phenomenon romantically referred to as “love at first sight,” and pessimistically referred to as straightforward lust. By nature, I’m not given to lust. I don’t want to set myself up for failure, but I have always carried the ability to focus on the inner person, regardless of the exterior. Which is why I could love a man who looked like Jake, straight out of action hero Hollywood, and Ron, straight off a Hair Club for Men ad.

It’s why I was able to speak up harshly to Haley when I met her. I knew she needed some tough love, and our immediate intimacy has created the best friendship I’ve ever had—even within the confines of the Trophy Wives Club, where I had plenty of great friends already.

Haley was different. I draw in a deep breath. Ronnie is different.

Although Ronnie has a great exterior—lust-worthy by anyone’s standards—it’s his inner sensibilities that attract me. His ability to see the mansion as a means for his ministry shows his mind is not swayed by materialistic goals. As someone who is easily swayed by materialistic pursuits, I find that endearing and balancing. I am not blind, though, to all the reasons his goodness is for someone other than me. I will myself to sit up and pull away to the corner of the sofa. Without another word to each other, we get up, I lock the door, and we head to the car. Once inside, Ronnie suddenly speaks.

“Is something wrong, Lindsay?”

Yes! I want to shout. Just once, I want it to be convenient to fall in love. Is that too much to ask? There has to be some nice widower at church who needs a woman who knows how to call a caterer, plan a party, and lay out his suits for him before work. I need that man. Definitely not you.

My stomach flutters at the memory of being surrounded by Ronnie’s arms, followed by another immediate and healthy portion of guilt. No more guilt. I want to live life without a steady diet of guilt. Am I so desperate for attention that I have to throw myself at the one man I can’t have?

“We were caught up in the moment. The house was warm and inviting. We’re both lonely,” he says. “Nothing happened anyway.”

“Right. That house brings up a lot of emotions for me. You’re so right. That’s it!”

“I was caught up myself. It’s such a beautiful house. Yeah,” he says looking out the window. “Just beautiful. A beautiful house.”

“Don’t forget,” I say with a forced laugh, “you did just break up with your girlfriend, so what’s a hug between friends? Plus, I’m feeling lonely and planning my best friend’s wedding shower. It was a natural reaction to snuggle. Nothing more.” Bringing it up again did not salve either one of us, and I tremble at my faux pas.

“Snuggle? You would call that a snuggle?”

“A hug. It was simply a hug.”

“I hug people all the time,” Ron states. “I hug my mother! Heck, I even hug my neighbor’s dog.”

“Well, if I still had a mother, I’d totally hug her too. See? Completely innocent.”

“Completely.”

I suck in a deep breath. “So why do I feel so blasted guilty? Nothing happened.”

“We’re not perfect.”

“So you’re saying it was a mistake. Well, I never claimed to be remotely close to perfect. My mistakes are laid bare for all who wish to account for them. At least I dropped my fiancé before YouTube came on the scene, that’s all I can say. Public isn’t nearly as bad as it could be. I’m blathering. I have nothing to be nervous about, so why am I blathering?”

“I don’t care to account for them,” he says. Then he turns his shoulders and faces me. “Your sins, I mean. Anymore than I wish to have mine reiterated to me if I’ve moved forward. Hopefully, we’ve learned and won’t make the same mistake twice. Growth. It’s all about growth. We’re growing. Tell me about dumping your fiancé; you’ll feel better about this.”

“Absolutely, you’re so right,” I agree. “Okay, so I was dating my high school boyfriend and that was nice and all. He was handsome, and he opted not to go to college. He went straight to work for his father, a contractor. After I got out of college—”

“What college did you go to?”

“UCLA. I majored in Art History. It was a pretty useless major, but college was great.”

“You didn’t meet anyone at school?”

“I worked during school and was only there for classes, so there wasn’t much chance of that. I saw my boyfriend on the weekends, and that was that. Maybe I lacked motivation, but it was enough for me. I didn’t have the gumption to look for anything different, and you know, it was fine.”

“So tell me then, how did you meet my father?”

“Jake, that was my fiancé. He was working for Ron building this house, remember? I saw that chandelier in the dining room and I thought to myself, ‘Can you imagine what it’s like to eat your meal every night under something that fabulous? That would make me a really important person.’” I look to Ronnie, and his face is crinkled. I shrug. “I was young and naïve. I don’t think that now.”

“No, of course not.”

“So I dressed in what you might call provocative gear, for me anyway—nothing like what the girls wear nowadays—and I came to the front door one day when I knew Jake wouldn’t be there, to meet the owner.”

“You purposely came here to meet him because of the chandelier?”

“I see it differently now. I see that God was watching over me, and He gave me grace when I didn’t deserve it. Ron had just found the Lord, and he was eager to share what he’d learned with me. Jake’s family was all Christian, and I understood everything, but I didn’t have a real faith. Not really. Part of my falling in love with him was falling in love with Jesus, and the Lord knew I needed him. When I read that story about Ruth laying at the feet of Boaz and taking the leftovers from the threshing floor, I thought to myself, ‘That’s me. That’s all I want, just what’s left.’ It seemed like a sign from above.” It seems to be working. My telling Ronnie about my old self is definitely separating him from the new self. Never underestimate the ability to repel people with truth.

“So you married him.”

“I think that he liked that I wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe he did know it was the house that kept me here at first, but that soon changed.”

“So what now, Lindsay?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel the passion for life I once did. I used to love to help people with their financial planning. Ron taught me to do that with such skill that I don’t think I’d feel poor even if I made minimum wage. It’s a mind-set.” I point to my temple. “Though I must say, it’s hard to keep it when surrounded by all this. I get tempted. Naturally. I suppose that’s why Jesus asks us to flee from temptation.”

“Where are we?” Ronnie asks as we look out over the crashing surf.

“I don’t know. The car came here. It’s part of the trip, to see the ocean. Besides, it’s sunset at the beach now. We’ll follow it. I couldn’t resist the temptation. Ah, you see. I told you. I am easily tempted.”

He leans in toward me, and I shut off the car. I know the ocean is before me, but I can’t hear the thundering surf over my heartbeat. I stare at his chin and feel my eyelids slide shut. I drink in his warm scent and it sends my body emotions I know I can’t handle. My eyes fly open.

“So!” I say with an obnoxious clap of the hands. “A walk, maybe?”

He’s thinking what I am, that once this evening is over, we’ll have lost these moments forever and there’s a loneliness in my heart that can’t bear to say good-bye to this stolen time sooner than I need to.

“No. No walk.” He brings his cheek to mine, and I breathe in this deep peace that I know cannot last.

But my mouth betrays me. “So did we regret our snuggle? I mean, hug? Or didn’t we?” I ask him as I pull back. “I just want to be clear.”

“I believe we’re still debating the issue.”

“Let’s debate outside. On a walk along the pier.”

“It’s cold out there.”

“I won’t feel it.”

“Neither will I.”

We both get out of the car, and Ronnie comes around to shut my door, but he doesn’t get that far and I find myself in his arms. We lean against the car and my head falls into the crook of his neck. I can feel the sweetness of his breath upon my face and the strength of his devotion in his grip. Something about the way he holds me says he won’t ever let go, and though I am at a loss to explain this, my trust is vast and deep like the Pacific.

“How long until the wedding shower? I imagine I won’t see you much after that and the house is on the market.”

“Two weeks.” I force the whimper from my voice. It comes out strong and overly loud. “Then, you’ll be able to sell the house and this whole difficult incident will be over.”

“Is that what this is?” he croaks. “A difficult incident?”

“Ronnie.” I put my palm on his chest and step back. “I promised your mother. I promised her this very thing wouldn’t happen. She knew something.” I pull away from him.

“My mother knows me and she knows I have never looked at another woman like I did the first day I was allowed into your home. It’s not your beauty; it’s the spark that lies within you. I couldn’t begin to explain it, but I felt it being in the same room with you.”

“What if she’s right, Ron? Did you think of that? What if she does know you so well, and this is about your devotion to your father and not me?”

He grips my arms. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what I think. I know I want to be a good person. I want to prove my mother wrong and yet I keep ending up exactly where I shouldn’t be. That doesn’t make a good person, Ronnie!”

“Doesn’t it? You’re not seducing me, Lindsay. You’re not taking anything from me. You’re here for me, and I want to be here for you for as long as I’m able.”

I shake my head. “No, this is all happening too suddenly.”

He backs away. “I’ve got nothing but time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Your mother doesn’t believe I’m a Christian, and why would she? I made one vow to her. One vow and I haven’t kept it.”

I feel Ronnie’s soft kisses on my cheek. “Ronnie, don’t.”

His firm lips are soon on my own, and I am swept away in the moment, lost in his closeness and desire. Part of me acknowledges it can only feel so good because it’s wrong. It’s sin, I remind myself. Sin! I push him away and wrap my arms around myself as I run to the pier, away from the temptation. The wind is ripping across the pier, and it’s sharp and brisk. But I’m thankful for its thunderous noise because warmth envelops me, and I want to get lost in my head and forget that this will all come to an end soon. Because I am Lindsay Brindle, and it is not my fortune to walk in such easy sentiment.

After I find my voice again, I walk back toward him. He meets me on the pier.

“Your mom says he did it on purpose, made probate for the house while everything else was in a trust. She said he did it on purpose to keep her here.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Your mother thinks I’m after your money. Maybe she thinks Ron orchestrated all this so that I might be taken care of.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Then why did he bring her back here, Ronnie? You know as well as I do that I could have handled this. Quickly and without the drama. He wanted you both here.” I know it has something to do with Ronnie’s real father, but does he?

“Maybe he was trying to keep me a secret. Did you ever think of that? He wanted to be your hero. Maybe he wanted to stay that way in your eyes and having a son you’ve known nothing about—well—”

The waves crash hard against the shore and slap up against the pier underneath us. Ronnie brings his arms around me and tightens them so that the roar of the wind is silent against the deep beating of his heart.

“Does any of it matter anyway? They lived their whole lives like this, with secrets and questions. Do you want to live the rest of your life like that? Because I don’t.”

“Oh no, I know what you’re getting at, and we’re not telling your mother this happened. Any of it. I’ll have the shower in two weeks, and we’ll put this all behind us.”

“And we’ll share a secret. Just like my parents did.”

I pull my head back and look into his eyes.

“He thought my mother was running away by living in Mexico. But she loved it there. She’s so much more at home there, I wish you could see her in her element. She’s so tense here. I think Ron just thought he knew my mother, but maybe he never did.”

I feel a tear fall knowing that it has something to do with Ronnie’s real father and will he be able to handle the loss when it comes? What will he think of my betrayal in this madness?

After a long, silent drive in my car, Ronnie and I pull up to my condo, and the lights are all off. Only the orange streetlights illuminate the front walk leading into the darkened hallway.

“I guess my mother is still out with your friend,” Ron says. “Diabetic. Can you believe she’d keep that from me? I was hoping to check on her before I trekked home.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Ronnie. Drive safely,” I say, patting him on the shoulder like a Labrador.

He lets out a haggard sigh, and we both know what it means. Our night of romance is over. We’re about to wake up from this fantasy we managed to create for ourselves tonight. This element of peace in our chaotic worlds.

As we get out of the car, Cherry’s porch light goes on, and I notice there’s a man in front of my stoop. Her curtains move as she sends my visitor a non-welcoming message.

“Who’s that?” Ronnie asks, putting his arms around me.

“I’m not sure. It looks like…” It looks like Ron, but of course, I don’t say that out loud.

“Stay here.”

I grab the back of his jacket and stay close. “I’m coming with you.”

I’m not hallucinating. He sees the resemblance, too—the man looks nearly identical to my dead husband. A car pulls up alongside the curb and parks and I hear a door slam. It’s followed by flashing lights, and I look back to see a patrol car slide in behind Bette and Jane. There’s a rash of slamming doors.

“Mitch!” we hear from behind us. “Ronnie. Lindsay. Come back here!” It’s Jane’s voice, but my eyes are fastened to the door and the mirage I’m seeing.

I jump as a cat creeps along my calf.

The feline blinks at me. His eyes are blank and without life behind them, and my shoulders drop. Ronnie stands alongside me, and holds me firmly. “Mitch.” Jane scurries beside us, out of breath and wild-eyed. She tries to catch her breath. “Stop this—we need to talk. Ronnie,” she barks back at the two of us. “Go inside with Lindsay.”

“What’s going on, Mom?”

“Go inside! Do as I tell you!”

“Mom?” The man says, focusing on Ronnie. “This is my son?”

“This is Ron’s son,” Jane says definitively, and she looks away from me as I express disappointment in her.

“Janey, please. It’s time,” he says.

We’re all standing around in a half-circle. Bette, Jane, Ronnie, myself, and this policeman, waiting for answers from a mysterious stranger bearing a striking resemblance to Ron. I imagine even Cherry thought she’d gone to the next world when she laid eyes upon his portly shape.

“Is this a domestic dispute?” the officer asks.

“This is my son, Officer. I’m here to meet my son.”

The officer looks to Jane, whose eyes are as wide as lagoons. She shakes her head. “A minute, please. Can we have a minute?” Jane pulls the man she called Mitch aside and even in the dim light, I can see her trembling.

I step back, certain now that this man isn’t my long-lost husband, but uncertain of everything else. He looks remarkably like Ron, but where Ron had smiling eyes, creased in the corners with delight, this man has lowered eyebrows and that straight line above his nose that has become rutted with anger.

Ronnie looks to his mother, back at the stranger, and then steps forward, ignoring his mother’s request. “Mom, do you know this man?”

Her shoulders slump. “This is Mitch. Ron’s brother.” She crosses her arms across her chest. “Can you just give us a moment, son?”

Jane and Mitch walk away again, but their emotions are high and their words float across the yard like Jesus giving a sermon on the lake.

“Mitch, this isn’t right. You need to give me a chance.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do, Janey,” Mitch says. “Trying to call you and tell you about my release, but you kept hanging up on me. I’ve done my time. I’m begging you, don’t make me do anymore.”

“Everything all right here?” The officer calls, his hand ominously on his revolver. “We’ve had a call about a strange man lurking about the property.”

“That would be me, Officer. Mitch Brindle, I’m a free man.” He walks toward the policeman, his eyes perusing Ronnie as he walks by. “Just came to claim my kin is all.”

“Is that so?” Jane says. “Stay here for a minute, Officer. I have some questions for him, and I’d appreciate protection.”

“Protection? Janey, you know I’d never lay a finger on you. What is this? Haven’t you done enough to make Ronnie think ill of me?”

“You wanted Ron’s money!” Jane accuses. “That’s why you were calling, so please don’t act like the long-lost family now! Don’t think I don’t understand what you’re up to. I’ll send you back to jail for extortion if you try anything with me.”

“Extortion?” Mitch asks. “You’re going to talk to me about extortion? If anyone ran off with what belonged to someone else, it was you. Exhibit A,” he says, motioning to Ronnie.

She takes the familiar stranger and walks toward the street, her expression pleading. Ronnie looks as though he’s been sucker-punched. “Let out? My father? I’m in another dimension.” He takes two fingers and pinches me.

“Ouch!”

“I’m still here. That’s good.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Ronnie.” But of course, my own mind is rabid with conclusions. If Ron did indeed have a brother in jail, why on earth wouldn’t he have told me? In Ronnie’s eyes, I see betrayal flicker across his brow at he stares at his mom.

“She wouldn’t lie to me about my father.” He looks to me for support. “She wouldn’t.”

“If she did, it would have been for your protection, Ronnie. Your mother loves you more than life itself. She’d never do anything to harm you.”

His questioning look of deception now focuses on me. “You knew about this.”

“I didn’t. I swear. I didn’t know Ron had a brother.”

“Is Ron my father? Answer me, Lindsay.”

I swallow. “I don’t know.” And I don’t. I only know what Jane has said, which isn’t much of anything. But seeing Ronnie now, I want to protect him. If Jane did lie, seeing his face now, I know exactly why she did it.

He shakes his head back and forth. “I trusted you.”

“I didn’t have anything concrete to tell you! I didn’t want to gossip and make it worse.”

“Look at my mother’s face. There’s desperation in her eyes. She’s despondent talking to that man, whoever he is, and I’ve never seen him before in my life. If my father isn’t who she said he is, how could she have kept that from me?”

“I’m saying we don’t know the whole story. We’ll find out the whole story eventually, so there’s no sense in filling in the blanks. Ronnie, please.” I clutch at his hand, and he thrashes it away from me.

He stares at his mother, the pain in his eyes worse than anything I’ve endured with my own mother.

“If Ron is not my father, there’s no inheritance. There’s no money for the schools in Campeche. It’s stolen. It’s not mine to give away.”

“Trust your mother to finish this, Ronnie. Think about the kids. Ron left the money to you. Not to Ron Jr., his son, but Ron Jr., the man. It’s yours, free and clear. He had to know.”

His eyes darken. “You did know about this!” His gaze is accusing and angry, and I feel my throat swell. I’m afraid for Ronnie to find out the truth, whatever it might be. Not here. Not like this. And the way he looks at me with disgust in his eyes, it’s worse than I could have imagined. The problem with such a quick connection is that it’s just as easily detached. The beach, only a half an hour before, feels light-years from my present.

“Ron considered himself your father, Ronnie. He wouldn’t have left you the money if he hadn’t. I know that much about my husband.”

“You didn’t even know he had a brother,” he scowls. “You didn’t even know I existed until Ron mentioned me in the will. You only knew what Ron told you, and clearly, it wasn’t much.”

My stomach roils at the painful truth. “I guess that’s right.” Is it any wonder I was such an enabler to Ron’s drinking? Out of the shadows breaks another strapping figure into the orange glow of the porch light. My eyes narrow as I see Jake’s smiling face come into view. Not now!

“What’s going on out here?”

“Nothing’s going on.” I look at my feet. “Just some family business. Can I call you tomorrow Jake? This isn’t the best time.”

“Cool. Hey, Linds.” Jake grabs my arms. “I did it.”

“You did what?”

“I broke off my engagement. There’s no wedding on Saturday. I’m free. I’m a free man!” He rakes his hand through his hair, oblivious to Ron’s presence or his current crisis. “I feel invincible!”

“Jake, that’s great. Would it be all right if I called you later?”

“Jake?” Ronnie comes and stands in front of him. “This is the fiancé? The one you dumped for Ron, the man who may or may not be my father?”

“Jake.” I shake my head briskly. “Please just go.”

He claps his hands and shouts to the air, “Ah! I’m a new man. A new man I tell you. No more doing what I’m supposed to. I’m going with the flow from here on out.” He picks me up at the waist and twists me around. Truly, he’s oblivious. “I owe it all to you, Angel!”

As he places me on the ground, I see Ronnie’s expression turn. “You’ll excuse me.” He marches toward his mother and Mitch.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jake asks with false innocence.

“Jake, can I call you later? Please.”

“Aren’t you happy for me, Linds? If anyone would know how I hate to be boxed in, it’s you sweetheart. Look, you married that pruned-up old man to get a commitment.”

“I am happy for you if this is what you want. Of course. But that pruned-up old man was my husband and I loved him, so I’d appreciate it if you would show him some respect.” I can barely think of the words to answer him. Clueless, I want to shout at him. Go tell someone who cares!

“I made the right choice. For me. For us.” He motions between the two of us.

I blink a few times. “What did you say?”

“We’re free and clear, Lindsay.” He stands over me with his hands on the back of my neck. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

Free and clear. Free and clear. I search for meaning in his words when my brain finally dislodges from where it’s stuck. “I have to go.” I clamber for my keys.

I want to be good, God. I want to be good. Why can’t I be good?

I enter my condo, collapsing against the wall. “What have I done?” I search my memory for if and how I led Jake on—and if I did, how is it I ended up in a cozy snuggle with Ronnie all night? My cell buzzes, and I scramble hopeful it’s Ronnie, but there’s another text message from Tim at the singles’ group.

ONLY DNR CALL ME!

If Ron were here, he would clear this all up for me. Perhaps not, but if he were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’d be married and planning parties for his clients! Even Ron might not understand my situation this time. Mexico is sounding better by the minute. Ay carumba.