A Sundog Moment Read online

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to start beekeeping here?” Carol teased, but she was uneasy. Was Elizabeth serious? She wondered if she should tell Michael but immediately discarded that thought. She didn’t need to tell that man squat about his wife. She wasn’t going to betray her cousin.

  But bee venom?

  Elizabeth moved into a more comfortable position and looked intently at Carol. “Why was a stretch limo in front of your house for hours yesterday?”

  She watched as differing emotions washed over Carol’s face before she frowned.

  “It was Ray.”

  The surprise was enormous. “You’re kidding! I heard the car was out front all afternoon.”

  Carol made a face. “Since he didn’t have the courtesy to tell me he was coming, I wasn’t home. Gordon and I went to the medical association luncheon together.”

  “So Gordon got to meet Ray? I bet that was interesting.” Elizabeth couldn’t imagine.

  “Not really.” Carol was vague.

  Elizabeth waited, but when Carol remained silent she finally asked, “What did he want?”

  Carol bit her lip and looked away. “He wanted me back. He came to tell me he loved me and that what happened before was a case of temporary insanity on his part.”

  “You mean his affairs?”

  “Affair,” Carol said quietly. “He only had one.”

  “Oh.”

  Carol, silent and lost in her own thoughts, seemed to come to a decision.

  “Elizabeth, the reason I left him was because he betrayed me. I came home early—after almost two months of traveling for research. I came home earlier than I planned, or he expected, because I missed him.” Carol closed her eyes, as if that could deflect some of the pain that still lingered.

  “I found him in our bed—”

  Her voice caught, and Elizabeth tried to finish for her in a sad voice, “With another woman.”

  Carol shook her head. “With another man.”

  The words hung naked in the air. Elizabeth looked at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding! He’s gay?”

  Carol shook her head.

  She was out of her league, perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

  “As he told me,” Carol repeated, “he was lonely and horny. He also said he lost his mind because he was merely infatuated with this man. His psychiatrist had helped him discover this was merely a midlife crisis and I shouldn’t have taken it so seriously, meaning a divorce was neither necessary nor appropriate. Oh yes, he wants me back. Now that he is no longer insane, he knows he loves only me.”

  “And he can just go to hell,” Elizabeth said, furious. “How dare he do this to you! Carol, I’m so sorry.” She looked at her cousin. “What did you say to him?”

  “I pretty much told him what you said, only my words weren’t so pretty.”

  “Good.”

  Carol smiled briefly. “You’ve got to swear you won’t tell a word of this to anyone. And that includes Michael.”

  Elizabeth ran one finger across her mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

  A little smile settled over Carol’s features. “I certainly hope so. You know, this feels good. You’re the only person I’ve spoken to about this, besides Father Joseph.”

  “What did he say?”

  Carol was vague. “A lot of reassuring things. He’s a remarkable person, a very practical man of faith who makes it all seem so accessible. But I have to say, Gordon has helped a great deal, too. He’s been through so very much himself. Did I tell you he recommended a therapist?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. So that’s why Carol seemed a little easier. And thank God there had been no more barhopping dates.

  “She’s the one he used . . . to deal with his wife’s death. Gordon’s a good guy.”

  She was glad Carol had finally trusted her enough to share this awful secret. A sudden question popped into her mind.

  “When you . . . found them together, what did you do? Throw something at him, scream, demand an explanation?” Elizabeth didn’t have the imagination to figure out what she’d do.

  “It was pretty self-explanatory,” Carol pointed out drily. “I left. The first thing I did was go to my doctor and get checked out for any STDs, AIDS; you know, all the capital-letter stuff.” Her laugh was harsh. “I’m in the clear, thank God, but I have no idea about Ray.”

  “Yes, thank God he didn’t give you anything.” Elizabeth was suddenly shocked by how little she really knew of life. “It suddenly occurs to me I’ve led a very sheltered and naive life.”

  Carol’s response was succinct. “Be thankful for it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Come in.” Adrienne’s smile was as big as the day, waiting as Elizabeth walked up the ramp to their house.

  “You aren’t using your crutches?” Elizabeth was immediately sorry those words slipped out, but she had never seen Adrienne use a motorized wheelchair. What did that mean? Did this mean Adrienne had gotten worse in the weeks since she’d met her?

  “She’s paying for overdoing yesterday, big-time,” Ian announced, putting a hand on Elizabeth’s arm and escorting her inside their home.

  She looked around with approval at the large open room with high ceilings and exposed beams and loved all the windows, which allowed the daylight to stream in. “What a marvelous place.”

  There were small walls dividing large rooms, keeping doorways wide and easily accommodating Adrienne’s motorized wheelchair. “What did you do yesterday?” Elizabeth wanted to know, sitting down on one of several love seats in the family room, a large room in the back of the house that boasted three walls of windows overlooking a portion of Elizabeth’s river.

  Adrienne shrugged and looked at Ian. “Do I have to tell?” Her voice was plaintive, a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth quickly assured her, even as Ian admonished, “Don’t baby her. She’s dying to tell you what she did and how she wouldn’t listen to anyone with a shred of common sense.” He was gruff even as he was trying not to smile. Actually, he wasn’t entirely pleased with his wife’s behavior. If she just wasn’t so much fun when she was getting herself into trouble, he might be able to play the heavy and insist she not do stupid things. Then again, one of the things he loved about her was that defiance; a mixed blessing, at the very least, he constantly reminded himself.

  “Well,” Adrienne began, placing fingertips together, gathering her thoughts. “It was for an excellent cause. I walked the gym track at the high school five times at midday and raised five hundred dollars for the church building fund.”

  “Five hundred dollars?” Elizabeth was impressed. “Instead of using the wheelchair you used the crutches?”

  “Yes, and now I can’t even lift my arms past my shoulders, and Ian’s been grumpy with me ever since. I’m glad you came. Maybe you can get him to stop fussing and lighten up.”

  “I don’t know, Adrienne, you probably didn’t do yourself any favors,” Elizabeth said, and then stopped herself as Ian started wagging a finger at her, only half amused.

  “Speaking of which, has Mrs. Whittaker decided yet what she wants her husband to do? You see, I haven’t forgotten our last conversation. I recall the good man had your very best interests at heart, as I do Adrienne’s, and you, ma’am, were less than appreciative. Just like my wife. We husbands are clueless; we just can’t win.”

  Under his amused scrutiny, Elizabeth colored.

  Adrienne, however, waved him off. “You get off that high horse immediately, Ian Moore! It’s not the same at all, and you know it. Don’t pay him any attention; he’s trying to compare apples and mangoes. It simply won’t work. Elizabeth is my friend, and of course she’s concerned for me. But she would have been out there yesterday cheering me on, I have no doubt.”

  She started to turn away somewhat dramatically to dismiss him, but then thought of something. “Why don’t you bring in the tea you so graciously made this morning, and we’ll let bygones be byg
ones,” she added sweetly.

  His response was to walk out of the room, shaking his head and pretending to mutter darkly under his breath. There was no missing, however, the struggle he had with keeping a smile out of his eyes.

  With a smile of her own, Elizabeth leaned back against the cushions, relaxing in the ease that always seemed to surround this couple.

  “What’s the building fund for?” Elizabeth was curious. “They aren’t adding on, are they?” That old church hadn’t changed in all the seasons they had come here. Same congregation, only a few new faces in the summer when weekend places were in use. Other than that, nothing seemed to change.

  “It’s for the new handicapped ramp out in front of the church. I’ve been helping to raise money for it.”

  “Bravo.” Elizabeth was impressed. “I think that’s wonderful.”

  “Then would you like to make a donation?” Adrienne never missed an opportunity.

  “Sure.” Elizabeth grinned. This woman, whether in a wheelchair or using crutches, certainly made things happen. She couldn’t believe that old, tradition-bound church would agree to something so modern and . . . useful.

  Not only did Ian bring in a tea service, but also some hot scones. Butter and jelly were already on the wicker table. “Help yourself,” he encouraged as he poured a cup of hot tea for each of them. Then he sat down and nodded toward Elizabeth.

  “So, Elizabeth, since we’ve already touched on the subject, did you ever decide on what you wanted your husband, er, Michael, isn’t that his name? Yes, what do you want him to do?”

  Elizabeth nibbled at the sweet buttered scone and considered. She thought immediately of the essay by Lynne Howard. Even now she could feel the small stab of envy—what were those words?

  “I want,” she tried to remember, “a husband . . . whose presence intensifies the good moments, yet remains steadfast despite the very bad ones.” She thought she had gotten everything.

  “Ohhh, I like that,” admired Adrienne. “Don’t you, Ian?”

  He nodded and then asked another unanswerable question. “How are you going to achieve this?”

  Adrienne grabbed his hand. “The same way I’m going to get you to do it. Nag, nag, nag.” She threw back her head and laughed as he groaned.

  Still clutching his hand, Adrienne fixed a radiant smile on Elizabeth. “So. How are you going to get your husband to toe those lines?”

  Elizabeth threw up her hands with a helpless grin. “Nag, nag, nag.” She added with a mischievous glint, “Actually, I’m going to move up here and watch a master like you, Adrienne, perform your magic on your husband, and then I’ll know what not to do.” She sat back with a satisfied smile that was contagious.

  “She’s good,” both Ian and Adrienne said at the same time and then yelled “Jinxed!” This was followed by some mumbo jumbo that was comprehensible only to themselves. Elizabeth watched, fascinated. When they finished, they sat with folded hands and looked at her with perfect innocence, as if what they had just done was totally normal.

  Elizabeth leaned forward. “You two are the most fascinating people I’ve met in a long time.”

  Ian gently squeezed his wife’s arm. “At least she didn’t say crazy. That’s a step up, I’d say.”

  Adrienne snorted and punched him back with her elbow. “Speak for yourself, old man.” Then with a grin she explained their shenanigans to Elizabeth.

  “Our godchild was with us all last week, Thomas Edward Smith. He’s ten and very much into superstitions and unjinxing and all that. Let’s just say he put us through our paces, and we haven’t gotten over it yet.” She chuckled. “He is the dearest, funniest child. I hope you can meet him sometime this summer.”

  “He certainly is a pistol.” Ian grinned. “Here, let me show you some pictures.”

  The next thirty minutes were spent showing pictures and chronicling Thomas’s life. By the time they finished, they all had laughed so hard tears fell. Even though Elizabeth had never met this boy, she felt as though she had known him forever.

  She dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex from the box Ian had brought to the table. “You’ve got to let me know if he visits you this summer. I would love to meet him.”

  They chattered on happily for a while longer, until Ian said, “All irreverence aside, would you like to come and see the church? It’s a beautiful old place with a huge arched sanctuary. The wood is fine and old, the stained-glass windows are just as elderly and beautifully made. Or perhaps another time? I wonder if we haven’t tuckered you out with our ramblings.”

  Elizabeth assured them she would love seeing the church. “Maybe the next time I’m down here, I can attend a service with you,” she offered, adding, “When we first started coming here in the summers, we went there once, but it was a frigid place. They didn’t seem to like children, so we never went back.”

  “That’s why this church nearly died—all these old folks who didn’t care to bring in new families. When it was drawing its last feeble gasp and nearly ready for last rites, some of the old people realized that children were precisely what that decaying old place needed.”

  “At least that’s what we’ve heard,” said Ian, wanting to be sure to set the record straight.

  Elizabeth looked out at the sky. “Have you happened to see any . . . sun dogs since you’ve been here?” she asked casually, hoping they wouldn’t know what a sun dog was so she would be able to tell them.

  “Saw one today, as a matter of fact,” Ian replied.

  “No! You did?” Elizabeth said, feeling a sudden burning in her eyes. Why hadn’t she looked up at the sky today? She certainly could have in all the time it took to drive here.

  “Well, yes. Close to midday.” Elizabeth was obviously upset, and both Ian and Adrienne glanced at each other, puzzled. “Why?”

  “Because of a sermon my rector gave last year.” She told them about it in an abbreviated form, smiling at their reaction.

  “How charming!” Adrienne exclaimed. “Don’t you think so, Ian?”

  He nodded, adding, “Someone should write that down. That’s a gem. But it doesn’t explain your reaction over not seeing it today.”

  “I loved his story, and I’ve been looking to see a sun dog ever since.” Elizabeth felt foolish trying to explain, not totally understanding herself why it was so important. “But I haven’t.”

  “Well, we will call you the very next time we see one, won’t we, Ian,” announced Adrienne. “Now, not to change the subject, but to change the subject, guess what I’m going to try to start this fall?”

  Elizabeth smiled back, finding her lightness contagious. It seemed Adrienne was always up to something.

  “I don’t have any idea,” she said truthfully.

  “A support group,” Adrienne said, hauling out some brochures and flyers she had made with her computer.

  “A support group? You mean for other people who have your illness?” Elizabeth was surprised there was anyone else around who had this rare condition.

  “No. A neuromuscular support group. How about that? Then people like you can come, people with arthritis—there’s a bunch of different kinds, and people with any of the other dystrophies.”

  “The criteria,” explained Ian in an amused monotone, “is anyone who has a chronic, incurable disease. That covers it, doesn’t it, dear?”

  “Yes, thank you very much.” Adrienne turned to Elizabeth and said, “Ian doesn’t think it’s a very good idea. He wonders why anyone would come to something so depressing.”

  “I would,” Elizabeth said loyally. “It might be fun.”

  Adrienne beamed and then looked at Ian as if to say, See? “Have you been to any of the support groups in Richmond?”

  Elizabeth grimaced. “Once. I went to one of the ‘minimally symptomed’ ones, you know, for people who don’t look like they’re sick?”

  “Sure, that’s the kind for cowards who don’t want to see the possibilities,” Adrienne said pleasantly.

  “I am so
glad you understand,” Elizabeth said drily. “I went to one that had just started, but no one knew the lady leading it was this evangelical creature who was convinced we all had to save our souls in order to be healed. You know, ‘We wouldn’t be sick if we were right with God’ sort of stuff.”

  Adrienne closed her eyes, shaking her head. Ian grimaced, thinking how unfair and unkind some well-meaning people could be. He tried not to recall their own encounters with these types. “Heaven help them, is all I can say. I take it you didn’t go back?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Now tell me about why you’re starting this, ah, neuro-what group?”

  “Neuromuscular support group,” Adrienne enunciated very clearly. “Because I went briefly to one in northern Virginia, and it was so cool. We all had a blast!”

  “Really?” Elizabeth asked, surprised to hear the shading of doubt in her own voice.

  “Absolutely. Why, I remember the last meeting; it was a picnic, a kind of farewell for Ian and me. They knew we were leaving. Do you remember, Ian?” She looked at her husband expectantly.

  “How could I forget?” He turned to Elizabeth, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “The majority were in motorized wheelchairs, and someone had the bright idea to find out who had the fastest—”

  “So we all lined up in the road in front of the house. Ian had some lady’s scarf in hand, and he stood in front of the pack and yelled, ‘People, start your engines; on your mark, get set, GO!’”

  “And they did,” Ian continued, in the tone of a man who is forever being forced to do things he knows he should not do. “As a matter of fact, they did three carts at a time, so there were several heats, if you will. And then”—he looked sternly at his wife, who was bubbling over with laughter—“and then the police came. It seems the lady across the street was very disapproving of our turning her road into a drag strip. She thought we were all crazy and irresponsible.”