Chapter 1

It took a funeral and a three-year-old child to pull the blindfold off my eyes and make me face what I really knew had been there for a while. I hadn't wanted to see it; I'd ignored it as long as I could but suddenly I was right up against it. The funeral was for my maternal grandfather, who died of a massive heart attack, and the three year old was my daughter Alyssa.

We were at my mother's house the day after the funeral, making ready to leave and return home. The luggage was all packed and loaded into the rear of the Navigator and I was putting Alyssa in her car seat.

"Would you like your shoes off, honey?" I asked her. I knew the answer but I liked asking, because I loved the sound of her little girl's voice.

"Yes, please," she said solemnly and very distinctly. I smiled at her and began to unbuckle the straps on the tiny Mary Jane shoes. I didn't bother to ask if she would like her socks on or off. The answer was always "off." That had to have been from my side of the family. I'd rather go barefoot myself than deal with hot, uncomfortable leather.

With her socks off and her toes wriggling in undisguised relief, I tickled the bottoms of her feet. She knew I would and had been watching me intently, waiting for the moment she could squeal and kick her feet as if she actually wanted to get her away from my fingers. She didn't though. She'd have been disappointed if I hadn't done it. This was a game we often played, and one we'd both come to cherish.

It struck me that we'd been playing it a lot lately. My young daughter and I were spending more and more time together. Both of us seemed to cherish the hours we had in each other's company. It was not so with my wife, Laura. Before I could explore that thought, my angelic little daughter interrupted my thoughts.

"Daddy?" Alyssa asked. I was leaning past her and placing her shoes on the bench seat beside her. I stuffed each sock carefully inside the proper shoe and pushed the shoes a little into the cushion so they'd stay there.

"What, punkin'?" I asked gently. When she didn't immediately answer, I turned to look her in the eyes.

"Why doesn't Mommy love us anymore?" she asked simply. I was taken aback. I stared at my child for a moment, unable to answer.

"Honey... your Mommy loves us both, I'm sure," I said slowly, "and in particular, she loves you more than anything else in the whole, wide world," I assured her. For a brief instant, there was a sparkle in her eyes, but it faded quickly.

"But she didn't want to come with us to say goodbye to Gran'pa," she said plaintively. I had no real answer except the one Laura had given me.

"She had to work, honey," I said. I was going to explain about the biggest account in the accounting firm my wife worked for and how it needed so much of her time and attention, but that would have raised far too many questions in a three year old's mind. I was quiet for a long moment.

"Mommy will be there when you get home, baby," I said consolingly. "She'll be there waiting for you."

"Does she have to work at night, too?" Alyssa asked. I started to answer, saying no, her mother went out at night with "the girls" a lot to unwind. But, again, that would have raised more questions than it answered in Alyssa's mind.

"No, baby girl," I said, "I think Mommy's about done with having to work so hard and then she'll have lots more time to spend with you... and me," I told her. Suddenly, I had to end this conversation. It was too uncomfortable. I buckled the last strap on the car seat, kissed my little cherub of a daughter, and patted her arm before closing the door.

Twenty minutes later, she was peacefully asleep in the rear seat while I drove the big SUV down the Interstate. My daughter slept, but I could not. I kept replaying her sad words in my mind. If a three year old was noticing, it wasn't just me anymore. That was what my wife had implied the last time I'd asked why she was going out with her friends so often.

The sun had nearly set when we pulled in the driveway. My wife, Laura, was indeed home. Alyssa ran upstairs, excited and bursting with things she wanted to tell her mother about all the cousins she'd encountered at my mom and dad's. I tailed along behind, still consumed with the dark thoughts that had taken root in my mind on the drive home. Why was my wife spending so much of her time in the office or partying with her girlfriends?

I found Laura sitting before her vanity, putting on makeup in her bra and panties. She rose to give me a peck on the cheek in welcome. Without warning, the idea struck me that I couldn't remember the last time she'd given me a strong, lusty kiss and wrapped her arms around my neck to show me how much she loved me. I sat down on our bed and watched.

Alyssa talked to her mother for a while without much of anything in reply. It was obvious even to little Alyssa that Laura wasn't paying any attention and, after a while, our daughter wound down and quietly went down the hall to her own room. Laura continued primping, touching her hair and getting her makeup on exactly right.

"What's going on, Laura?" I asked, trying to keep the unexpected emotion out of my voice. My stomach muscles were abruptly cramping and I could feel the surge of blood up the back of my neck. It was difficult to breath.

"What do you mean, honey?" she replied. She hadn't noticed my sudden agitation and was still giving all her attention to the mascara brush so near to her right eye.

"We've only been home ten minutes," I said brusquely, "and you're rushing off somewhere already?" She stopped brushing at her eyelashes and looked at me with poorly concealed impatience.

"Honey, you know I always go out with the girls on Friday nights," she said in a tired, we've-gone-over-this-before, voice. I didn't like her tone and I didn't like the implication that she was doing something we'd agreed was right and proper.

"Actually, my dear," I said sardonically, "you go out with "the girls" on Friday nights, some Saturdays, almost every Sunday, and virtually every Wednesday after work for happy hour and sometimes they all blend into one long, excruciating night out for you."

Alyssa had quietly disappeared after her mother had shut her out and was in her room with the door shut. I heard the strains of one of her educational toys begin playing a jingle. Getting up, I closed the bedroom door and turned back to find Laura also standing and looking at me without any expression on her face. Moving fast, I stepped close to her and caught up both her hands in mine. I hugged them to my chest.