Chapter 2: The Hard Truth

I left the house a little after ten on Saturday morning. The Explorer had just over a quarter tank of gas, so I stopped at our local service station and filled it, shuddering when I saw the total. Kittitas was at least forty-five minutes from our house and luckily, the road was almost deserted. I arrived at the antique store and went inside to see how I would go about getting the rocking chair.

"Yeah, I've got it set aside over here," the manager said as he led me to the front of the store. It was busy and as I looked around, I noticed he had a good sized inventory for sale.

I looked at Reese's purchase very carefully and saw that it was in good condition with only the usual signs of wear. It was a solid and heavy duty chair, fairly big as rockers go. It took a little fiddling and fussing to get it into the back of the Explorer, but with the manager's help, we got it done.

"Your wife didn't take long to make a decision," the man said. "She walked in, looked it over and bought it. I don't think she was in the store more than fifteen minutes."

"She was here? Why didn't she take the rocker with her?" I asked, now starting to get an uneasy feeling."

"Oh, the fellow she was with couldn't get it into his car. She said you'd be along to pick it up."

"This guy she was with, what was he driving?"

"Uhhm ... don't think I saw it ... don't know," he said thoughtfully.

I nodded, thanked him for his help and turned the Ford back out toward I-90 and the junction to Yakima. I don't remember most of the trip home. I was beginning to piece things together and I didn't like what the puzzle was turning out to be. The question was, what would Reese's explanation be? On the surface of it, I suspected she had gone to Kittitas with someone, bought a rocking chair on a whim, and then sent me there to pick it up.

And there was the story about finding and paying for it online. She did neither. I could feel anger building as I drove and knew I was going to want some answers when I got home. That didn't happen.

"Where's your mother?" I asked Matt when I got home.

He shrugged. "Don't know. Gone somewhere. Said she'd be back in a while."

"When did she leave?" I asked, probably in a more demanding tone than I should have.

Matt looked at me strangely before answering. "Just after you did."

"Did she take my car?" I wondered.

"Nope. Somebody picked her up."

"Do you know who?"

He shook his head. "Must be some rich guy. He was driving a new Lincoln."

Fuck! What the hell was going on? Now I was really starting to steam.

"Can you give me a hand with this rocker your mother bought?"

"Sure."

In no time at all we had the rocker in the house, sitting in the living room, waiting for instructions to find out where Reese expected it to go.

"What time is your ballgame?"

"They called this morning. They've delayed it until four o'clock because of the heat."

"Does your mother know?"

"Nope. She was gone when they called."

I picked up the phone and called Reese's cell. It rang twice before going to voice mail.

"Reese, we need to talk. Call me on my cell if I'm not at home. It's important."

"Something wrong, Dad?"

I nodded. "Yeah ... I think so. You had lunch yet?"

"Nope."

"Where's Jess?"

"The usual, at Mindy's."

I could see Matt was a little uncertain now that I'd revealed something wasn't as it should be.

"Come on, let's go to Clyde's and get something to eat." I was trying to control my words, my stomach, and my reaction to what I thought might be happening. Clyde's was a small deli with a few tables and good, home-made food.

"Sure, sounds good," Matt agreed immediately.

I didn't have any appetite, but I forced myself to have a sandwich and a glass of milk. Matt, as usual, had twice the amount any normal human could consume. I could see he was wary, however, wondering just what was wrong and when he was going to find out.

"What's going on, Dad?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "I'll have to wait to talk to your mother to find out."

"She's been acting different lately," Matt offered.

"How?"

"I don't know, exactly. She's jumpy and not like she usually is. You know, in charge like."

"Anything else?" I asked, now curious.

"Sometimes if she's on the phone when I'm around, she'll hang up without saying anything. You know ... like goodbye or whatever."

I was getting that sinking feeling once more. Her behavior sounded suspicious and, combined with the other odd things that were happening, it added up to a bad situation. Was I jumping to conclusions without evidence? It was hard to imagine she would be having an affair, but bits and pieces of information seemed to be pointed that way. I hoped I was wrong, but only a forceful conversation with Reese would likely tell me.

We had to leave for the ball park before three-thirty and Reese still hadn't returned to the house. I didn't know whether to be angry or worried, or both. I called Mindy's parents and let them know that no one would be home and could Jess still stay there until someone called. I got an immediate 'okay' and was relieved of that worry.

I didn't pay much attention to the ballgame that afternoon. Matt had a very good game, with three hits and errorless fielding. His team won 8-2 in a laugher, just as he had predicted. My thoughts were almost constantly on Reese and what she might be up to. It was eating at me and I couldn't put off talking to her even if the children were home at the time. I'm not that good an actor and I needed to get my concerns out no matter what.

When we arrived home, Reese was in the kitchen and had made a cold supper for us. I didn't say anything when we walked in and neither did she. Matt and I both went upstairs to shower before coming back down. When I walked into the kitchen, she looked at me carefully, but said nothing. I took a beer from the fridge and walked out onto the back deck. Try as I might, I had no idea how to start the conversation. Reese took that problem out of my hands. She followed me onto the deck.

"Thanks for getting the rocker," she said, watching me carefully.

I nodded. "You didn't tell me you bought it in person and paid for it at the store. You didn't tell me that someone else had driven you up there, but couldn't fit the chair into his car. In fact, you told me something entirely different. Why? What's going on, Reese?"

"I'm sorry, Graham. I really am. I was hoping you wouldn't find out until I was ready to tell you."

"Tell me what, Reese? That you've been cheating on me? What was it you weren't ready to tell me?" I said in my coldest voice.

"You've probably guessed most of it. I've found someone else. I'm filing for divorce and when it's through, I'll be marrying him."

"Who?"

"Gordon Winters," she said simply.

"Gordon Winters, all-star sleazy car salesman. I thought you were moving up in the world, Reese. Surely you can do better than him," I sneered.

"Gordon is not sleazy and he's in line to take over one of Kimble's dealerships as general manager. He's on his way to the top," she snapped triumphantly.

"Oh, he's a paragon of the community, all right. He breaks up a near eighteen year marriage without the slightest worry about his reputation. And what about your reputation, Reese? Or don't you care."

"Don't do this, Graham. Don't make this dirty. I fell in love with him. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but that's what happened. I didn't set out to get involved, it just happened."

"You just happened to fall into bed with a man other than your husband and forget all about your marriage vows," I snarled.

"He ... he was ... irresistible. I couldn't help myself. I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn't help myself. I fell in love and that's all there is to it," she said, lamely trying to excuse her behavior.

"Well, that's not all there is to it. Have you thought about the children? What do you plan to tell them? What do you plan to tell your parents? How are you going to make it sound anything less than betrayal and deceit? I doubt they will be proud of you."

"The courts will grant me custody of the children. You know that, Graham. I'll be fair. I'll give you liberal visitation rights."

"Lucky me," I spat. "I'm thinking you'd better be prepared for problems with the kids, though. They may not see you as the ideal mother any more. And I doubt Gordo will enchant them with his suave patter and super salesmanship."

"I understand you're angry, Graham. I knew you would be. I'm sorry that this has happened. You didn't do anything to cause it. You're just unlucky enough to have married the wrong woman."

"It took you eighteen years to realize that?" I said incredulously, raising my voice.

Her argument didn't make any sense, even to her. It was pointless, really. She'd already committed herself to someone else. The adultery was past tense.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I have no intention of moving out," I said in a no-nonsense tone. "If you're so anxious to be with lover-boy, you can pack your bags and leave right now."

"I'm not leaving, Graham, you are. I'll get a court order if I have to. I'll need a proper home for the children and this is it. I'm sorry, but you are the one who will be packing his bags." Her tone was equally demanding and uncompromising.

"We'll see about that. I'll be talking to a lawyer first thing Monday. In the meantime, I'll move downstairs to the family room. I expect my privacy to be respected. Oh, and one more thing. Don't you dare bring that shit-head boyfriend of yours into this house. I won't be responsible for his health and safety if you do."

"Are you threatening to attack him?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Read into it what you like, Reese, but you've been warned."

I stomped upstairs and started pulling clothes out of the walk-in closet in our bedroom. It took more than two trips to take everything I needed down to the family room and set up my temporary living quarters. My actions didn't escape the notice of the children. Matt followed me down and sat on the sofa-bed.

"What going on, Dad?"

I sighed and sat down beside him. "Your mother has decided she doesn't love me any longer and is going to divorce me and marry someone else."

"No! She can't! I won't let her!" he cried.

I put my arm around his shoulders and he leaned into me, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

"Why, Dad? Why doesn't she love you anymore?"

"I don't know, Matt. I really don't know. You'll have to ask her."

With that, he jumped off the sofa and ran upstairs. I stayed where I was, curious about what would take place in the kitchen. The answer wasn't long in coming. I could hear Matt's raised voice, then, surprisingly, Jessica's as well. Both of them were yelling at their mother. I almost smiled in satisfaction, but knew I was going to have to intervene. I got up slowly and walked upstairs to the kitchen.

I stopped before entering the kitchen where, once again, Reese was located. At the moment, she was backed into a corner by the two angry youngsters venting their rage at her. She looked up briefly and saw me, her eyes pleading for me to put a stop to the tirade from Jess and the angry look and folded arms of Matt. I was almost about to leave her to their rant when I made a decision.

"Jess! Matt! Stop it! Stop it now!" They couldn't fail to hear the authority in my voice and amazingly, they stopped and turned to me.

"Reese, why don't you find some other place to be for a while so I can talk to them," I said, indicating with my tone that there was no anger or command in it.

I saw a look of relief on her face and she scurried out of the kitchen, heading for the back porch. I turned to the children.

"Let's go to the living room. We'll talk there," I suggested in a soft voice. Two very silent, unhappy young persons walked out of the kitchen toward the living room. I followed them and watched as they sat together on the sofa. They made space for me and I sat between them.

"I hate her," Jessica spat almost immediately. "I hate her and I'm never going to be nice to her again ... ever!"

I shook my head. "No, Jess. Don't do that. Don't hate. It won't solve anything. Despite what you might think, your mother loves you both. She didn't do this to hurt you. She would never deliberately hurt you. You know that." I tried to use a calm and even tone as I talked to them.

"Why, Daddy?" my daughter continued on the verge of more tears. "Why is she mad at you? Did you do something bad?"

"No, Sweetheart, I didn't do anything bad. Your mother ... your mother just ... doesn't love me anymore," I said, still trying to come to terms with that reality.