did everything wrong and now I just want it all out in the open.”
She could see the tension in his shoulders, knew he was working to hold on to his control. “You made a mistake?” he asked. “That's how you see it? You just made a simple mistake? Lady, you have a helluva lot of nerve coming here. Get off my porch and leave me alone.”
He started to close the door in her face.
“Wait! I just... give me fifteen minutes, Joe. I just need fifteen minutes. We're both living in Dreyerville. It'll be easier for both of us if you know the truth. Hear me out and then I'll leave and I won't ever bother you again.”
He scoffed. “You want me to know the truth? I don't think you'd recognize the truth if it jumped up and bit you.” But he swung open the screen door and she collected her courage and walked past him into the house.
It was as neat as the yard, a man's house with a dark brown vinyl sofa and chair and inexpensive oak tables. There was a bookcase filled with books against one wall and a small TV on a stand next to a magazine rack. A Newsweek sat on top. Joe had always been interested in current events.
“Have a seat,” he said then kind of threw himself into the overstuffed brown vinyl chair.
Syl sat down stiffly, trying not to wither under Joe's murderous regard, knowing she deserved every one of his disdainful glances.
“So what is it you came here to tell me?” he pressed as if the sooner it was over, the sooner she could be gone.
She took a deep breath and tried to keep her hands from shaking, told herself she could do this. “I lied about everything. Not one word of what I told you was true.”
“Big surprise.” He stood up, a large man and tall, his stance a little threatening. “Now get out.”
Syl held her ground. She was only going to say this once. She didn't have the courage to leave and come back again. “I was sick. That's the reason I left. Two days after we ... after that night at the lake, I found out I had cervical cancer.”
Joe sank slowly back down in his chair.
“They told me I would have to have surgery. Chicago had some of the best doctors for that sort of thing and my Aunt Bess lived there. Afterward, I had to have chemotherapy. There was a long period of recovery. At the time, I wasn't sure I would ... survive.”
Joe said nothing.
“I didn't. . . didn't want to put you through that, Joe.”
“For God's sake, Syl.” When he sat forward on the edge of the chair, his usually dark complexion looked a little pale.
“I decided to lie to you, tell you I didn't... that I didn't love you. I made everything up. I thought it was better that way.”
“Let me get this straight. You said you didn't love me. You lied about that?”
“I was crazy in love with you, Joe. That's why I had to go away.”
He seemed to be fighting to make sense of what she was saying. “Are you ... are you all right now?”
“I've been more than six years cancer free.”
Joe's jaw hardened. The anger he felt seemed to eat through his control, and he shot up out of his chair. “Damn you! Damn you, Syl, for what you did! How the hell could you do it? How could you just walk away?”
She started crying. She had promised herself she wouldn't but this was Joe and she had loved him so much, and when she looked at him, she couldn't seem to help herself. “I'm sorry, Joe. If... if I had known what would happen…”
“If you'd known I'd end up in prison, you would have been honest with me? You would have let me help you? Can you really believe it was easier for me to lose you than to be with you when you needed me most?”
She swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. “I thought you would finish college. I thought you would find someone else to love— someone who would live a long life and be there with you when you were both old and gray. I thought you would find someone who could give you children. I knew how much you wanted a family.”
“We both wanted children. We were going to have a houseful of kids—that's what we said.”
“I'm ... I'm sterile, Joe.”
His throat moved up