The Memory of All That - Nancy Smith Gibson Page 0,52
sure he washes his hands and face before he comes back down.”
Marnie found leftover chicken from the night before, along with a bowl of potato salad and gelatin with fruit. She put it all on the breakfast bar and was putting the finishing touches on the place settings when David and Jonathan arrived.
Supper was a silent affair. While Marnie and David ate, Jonathan struggled to stay awake.
“I think that’s enough. His face will be in his plate any second now,” Marnie said.
David lifted Jonathan from the bar stool, and he was asleep by the time his head reached his father’s shoulder. Marnie trailed them upstairs and helped David get the sleeping boy out of his clothes and into pajamas.
Together they returned to the kitchen, put the remaining food away, and loaded the dishwasher. Few words were spoken between them as they tended to their duties. With the last crumb wiped away, Marnie hung the cloth over the sink divider and stared out the window. She felt so awkward she didn’t know what to do next. Her attraction to David was powerful, yet she knew he didn’t feel the same thing toward her. She had ruined their relationship with her infidelity and disloyalty. The kiss meant nothing to him, she was sure—nothing at all.
“This day has worn me out just like it did Jonathan,” she said. “I think I’ll go up and take a hot bath and get to bed early. Maybe read for a while.” Now she wouldn’t have to sit around and make awkward conversation.
“That’s a good idea. I think I’ll do the same.” Together they went up the massive staircase.
“I’ll just check on Jonathan to see he’s sleeping OK,” she told him.
“I’ll go with you. I like to check on him last thing every night.”
Together, they watched their sleeping boy. Marnie leaned over and kissed his forehead. When she straightened up, David was just inches away. He put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers.
When he finally released her, Marnie was reeling, but David set her away and took a step back. He looked as stunned as she felt.
“Good night,” he said, as he hurried from the room.
Chapter 29
Marnie tried to relax by taking the hot bath she had mentioned to David. Drawing a tub of soothing water liberally laced with bubble bath, she lit the candles that sat on the rim and placed the poufy bath pillow at one end. The relaxing water and atmosphere should have calmed her, but it didn’t.
Bubbles tickled her chin as she sank deeper into the water. What is going on in his mind? The first kiss was only a throwaway for him, I’m sure of it. It meant nothing to him, even if it did shake me to my toes. But the second one! That one was mind-bending, muscle-melting, can’t stand up, stupendous! And then he just walked away. What’s with that?
She had been told she did not love her husband. She had used pregnancy to trap him into marriage because she wanted his money. She didn’t love him. Her repeated infidelity proved that. She and her lover schemed to get more money out of David via a son she planned to use for ransom.
But all of this didn’t line up with the way she felt. She didn’t understand why she wouldn’t be in love with David. He was kind; a loving father; generous, even with his wayward wife; handsome; and a great kisser. There most certainly was passion between them, as this day had proven.
The stories she had been told were from other people’s viewpoints. What Marnie didn’t know was her side of the story. There was bound to be a lot they weren’t telling her. I know I wouldn’t marry just for money, she reasoned. There had to be more to it than that. And maybe I didn’t cheat on him. Maybe that was just the idle gossip of people who were jealous because I married the boss. Maybe Ruth perpetuated those stories, spread them among her friends, and told them to David. Maybe she encouraged him to believe them because she thought my mother had an affair with her husband. Ruth wants Celeste as a daughter-in-law instead of me, and she’ll say anything to make that happen.
I’ve been beating myself up because I thought all those things about me were true, but maybe they aren’t. Maybe they’re stories that have gotten twisted every which way and blown out of proportion.