Chapter 5
My hands shook on the steering wheel. I shouldn’t be driving, but I have to get back to Columbus. I have to find Lorie.
The turn to Peter’s house was between Callaway Gardens and the highway home. Should I drive by? Seemed masochistic to do so, but I couldn’t shake off the urge. How about a quick peek from the lakeside? That way I could stay on the road instead of going up the long driveway. I’ll do that.
The skies were still dark. Please let it not rain. My life was depressing enough without the heavens crying for me too. I drove a little faster.
How would I go about finding Lorie before class? I bet she wasn’t even going to the company since today’s class wasn’t mandatory. Did she still live at home?
What was going on with her? What Peter claimed she’d done was completely out of character. Could Peter be making the whole thing up? No, why would he? That would make even less sense.
Lorie and I had been good friends when we’d first started dancing at the Allen Ballet more than ten years ago—best friends even.
Time passed and eventually we grew apart.
I’d been hurt when she started getting all the lead roles. I’d thought I would catch up, but two years into our time in the company, it had become clear I would be playing second fiddle for a long time—possibly forever.
That’s when I’d started turning to guys.
Lorie’s decision to get a college degree while dancing professionally drove us further apart. She studied and danced while I partied and danced. She went to church and I didn’t. Her lifestyle seemed boring to me, and she probably didn’t appreciate mine. But through it all, we had remained friendly toward each other.
So, what was she doing now?
Would I be able to get to the bottom of it and convince Peter that I was telling the truth? After all, he did see me kiss Claus.
If only I hadn’t kissed him.
Turning toward Peter’s ranch, I passed the driveway and continued toward the lake. His house appeared in the distance. But that was not all that appeared.
There, next to the house and past the carport, was Lorie’s Ford Explorer. What?
The Thunderbird’s tires screeched as I turned around and headed to the driveway. What was she doing at his house? And by herself? The winding wooded path to the house failed to bring the usual peace and awe. It was just long. Too long.
Lorie’s car was on the other side of the house, past the carport. I could only have seen it from the lakeside, not from the driveway, where I had pulled in. Was she here when I came earlier?
I parked behind her and collapsed, slouching against the steering wheel to wait for a burst of energy that never came.
My eyes riveted on the Ford Explorer. It was time to get some answers— energy or no energy.
With the T-Bird blocking the Explorer, her only way out was a drive into the lake. Or an escape on foot into the woods. Go explore that. She wasn’t going anywhere without talking to me.
My boots touched the ground gently, and I tiptoed, keeping the sound of gravel to a minimum.
Should I use my keys or ring the bell? Ringing the bell seemed silly, as Peter’s house was practically mine, or at least had been for several months. I spent every weekend and holiday there. Vacations too.
Unsure of what I would find, I peeked in through the kitchen window.
Peter’s automatic Colt pistol was on top of the fridge, as it was supposed to be. Next to it and closer to the edge, my small-frame Smith & Wesson revolver, also where it belonged.
Lorie sat curled up with a pack of Oreos, looking in the direction of the TV. I moved to a different window to get a better view.
She was watching Carmen Suite, possibly the original. It was an old recording, and the camera was on Maya Plisetskaya’s fantastic profile—fearlessness defined as she prepared for the “Habanera.”
Carmen’s passion exploded in grand jeté en tournants, and with three of those jumps she had already traveled the length of the stage.
The music was equally strong, and Lorie had the volume set so loud I could hear it through the closed window.
Did Lorie carry that ballet around? It wasn’t mine—but the Oreos were.
And she was in Peter’s spot, wearing Peter’s favorite brown-and-black plaid pajamas. Drinking coffee from Peter’s favorite mug.
My fist hit the window hard.
Lorie jumped and hid the cookies under a pillow.
I marched to the kitchen door and busted in to confront her. I’ve had enough!
She jumped again. “Oh, Ana! Don’t do that! You scared me!” She brushed crumbs off her mouth then stood to face me.
“You’re eating my Oreos.”
“Sorry—”
I raised my hand. “No.” I could picture my heart contracting and pumping blood. Hot. Fast. Loud. Breathe.
“I’m embarrassed—”
“Just shut up.” This is a nightmare. I must be imagining all of this. “What’s going on here? How did you get in?”
“How do you think I got in?”
Was that a smile on her face? She was mocking me, wasn’t she? “Why are you wearing Peter’s pajamas?”
“Do you really want me to say it?”
I probably didn’t, but I had to hear it. Maybe then I would believe the impossible was actually happening.
“Ana, you broke the man’s heart. I’m just trying to fix it.”
“He is my fiancé.” My voice came out much louder than I had expected. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ex-fiancé?” She raised both eyebrows.
I was dizzy again. Do I want to know? My mouth was dry. I need to know. “Did you sleep with him?”
She nodded without uttering a word. For once, she did look embarrassed.
Tears welled up. I covered my face and sat on Peter’s recliner. The manly smell of Peter’s cologne enveloped me. When I looked up, Lorie hadn’t moved. “Why did you make Peter watch the rehearsal?”
“Ana, I truly believe, and I’ve believed this for a while now, that this life is just not for you.”
“What life? What are you talking about? Listen to yourself!”
“All of this.” She raised her long arms and pale hands. “The ranch, the Blake Shelton look-alike man, the small-town life.” Her eyes rested on a small picture frame on the corner table between us.
I looked at the picture too. It was the engagement picture Mom insisted we submit to the papers in Pine Mountain and Columbus. This is not happening. It’s got to be a joke, a nightmare, something. It’s not real.
“I’m sorry I had to resort to this, but I did it for you.” Her voice was like that of a kindergarten teacher talking to her little students. “This is just not you, Ana. You would be miserable in Pine Mountain, married to Peter.”
“Lorie, who are you to know what would and would not make me happy? You don’t know me anymore. Why did you poison him against me?” Why am I having this conversation? “This is ridiculous!”
Lorie’s body stiffened and so did mine. Had the sudden anger in my voice startled her?
“Now wait just a minute.” Her face came within inches of mine as she looked down at me. “I didn’t make you kiss Claus.”
Could she hear my heartbeat? I could. “Get out of my face. You’re done. I’m done with you.” She didn’t move. My hands turned into fists, and I pushed her backward. “You’re sleeping with my man!”
“He’s not your man!” She came back into my space. “He’s mine now.”
I slapped her face hard, and we both drew in a sharp breath.
No one spoke.
I held my shaky, sweaty hand. It ached. I’d never done that before. Her face had the red marks of my fingers. “Don’t ever get in my face like that.”
“Don’t ever hit me like that.”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Lorie, but the truth will come out one day. It always does. I love him, and I will get him back. Mark my words. I’ll win and you’ll lose.”
She seemed calm and collected, though her blue eyes were piercing. “I love him too, Ana. I’m tired of you being with all the men I love.”
“Excuse me? You saw Peter once, maybe twice, at a party. You can’t love him.” I put the last two words in air quotes. “What other men are you talking about?”
“Claus.” Her eyes filled up with tears.
“What?”
“He was here to dance with me. Why did you have to steal him?” Her screechy voice made my ears hurt.
“Lorie, that was ten years ago, and I didn’t steal him from you. We fell in love.” Did Lorie have feelings for Claus? That was breaking news. “I never suspected you had an interest in him at all.”
“Well, I did.” Big fat tears rolled out of her sad blue eyes. “That was my dream, Ana. We were going to dance Paquita, fall in love, and be one of those glamorous ballet power couples that grow and create together forever.”
Was she for real? “I’m sorry, Lorie. You guys looked beautiful dancing together, but he never showed any romantic interest in you. Besides, look at what a mess that was for me. At least your heart wasn’t broken when he ran back to Germany to be with Hanna.”
“Maybe if you’d let him fall in love with me instead, he wouldn’t have felt the need to run away.” Her voice was distorted by sobs. “You gave him all he wanted. Of course he ran.”
I looked in her direction, but my eyes were now on Carmen and Don José, my ears on the unique sounds of the castanets.
“You know it’s true.” Lorie added yet another nail in her accusation.
“Lorie, come on.” I clenched my jaw, working to keep my focus on the present problem. “Talk to Peter. Tell him the truth. Tell him I wasn’t having an affair with Claus. He will forgive me if he realizes the kiss was all there was.” Mainly now that he’s acted less than honorable too, by sleeping with Lorie. We were more than even.
“No. I’m with him now.”
Like that was going to last. “I feel sorry for you, because whatever you think you’ve got going on here, it won’t last. It’s not real. The truth will come out.” I looked down and headed for the front door.
“Enough with that already. The truth will not come out, Ana. Life isn’t fair, and there isn’t a thing we can do about it. Get over it.”
That made me stop and turn. My eyes met her sad gaze. “That doesn’t sound like you. What about God?”
“God is dead.” She froze as if startled by her own declaration.
And I froze too.
Surely I was the worst person to defend God. I didn’t have the knowledge or the moral ground. But she was wrong. “What’s really going on with you, Lorie? You’ve always believed in God.”
“I don’t anymore. I’m tired of seeing people do whatever they feel like doing and getting away with it. I tried to be good, to live a godly life, and it backfired in a major way.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Psalm seventy-three. Look it up. I feel like Asaph. He’s able to get his heart right again. But I can’t—I can’t and I won’t.” She walked back to the couch and mumbled, “I’m done being good.” She sat, got the Oreos, and went back to the beginning of the “Habanera.”
I nodded, hoping to find something to say, but I had no idea what she was talking about. “Is that the ‘Lord is my shepherd’ one?”
“No, numbskull, that’s twenty-three.” She finished chewing a cookie. “Why do I bother?”
“Numbskull?” We were down to that now? What’d happened to her? I looked outside at skies that seemed less angry. You are there, aren’t you God? In the distance, I spotted Peter’s truck. He was coming home.
He pulled up as I opened the door.
Had Lorie heard the truck over the music? I hoped she hadn’t.
My heart leapt at the sight of Peter. It is not over. I ran toward him, trying to step lightly to avoid making noise.
But the house door flung open, and Lorie dashed past me, struggling to run barefoot on the gravel. She reached the truck and opened Peter’s door. “I thought I was going to die!” She threw herself at him, screaming. “Please don’t let her hurt me. I just want to help.”
I’d been dead wrong and rotten about her acting abilities. If anyone needed to pursue a career on Broadway or in Hollywood, it was Miss Lorie Allen.
“What is going on here?” His face turned red. “Let me get out of the truck.”
Lorie backed away and showed him the red mark where I’d slapped her cheek. The redness was barely visible. “She hit me.”
He marched my way. “Are you crazy?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. She’s breaking up our engagement on purpose, and she’s lying! She said so five minutes ago in the house!” My hands shook and I didn’t recognize my voice.
“Lorie?” His teeth were clenched, hands balled into tense fists.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’m here trying to help, and I’m getting beat up.” She touched her cheek. The mark was completely gone.
“Lorie, I’m begging you. Tell him the truth. There is no affair. I made a stupid mistake, and I am terribly sorry.” You are the one having an affair.
“I’ve said all I had to say.” Lorie stood by the truck with her arms crossed and a less absurd look on her face. “I’m not lying.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I was loud on purpose now. They had to listen to me. “You’re crazy, Lorie.” I took a step toward her.
She ran behind the truck. “Stop her!”
Peter gripped my arm. “This needs to end.”
The madness had to end—not our relationship. “I love you.”
“Ana, please leave. We’ve already said all the things we needed to say. It’s best if you leave.”
“She’s lying to you. There was no affair.”
“No, Ana. You’re lying. I saw the way you kissed him. Don’t try to mess with my head.”
“I’m not lying!” I put my finger on his chest. “You’re the one having an affair!”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well, how convenient.” I threw my hands up in the air. “You’re accusing me of doing something I didn’t do when you are the one doing it.” I shook my head. “But you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sequence of events, Ana.”
“Only the events in your sequence are imaginary. They came out of Lorie’s head.”
“Ana, stop.” Peter raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve had enough.”
“So have I.” It didn’t matter what I did, my situation just kept getting worse.
He stared at me with contempt now, like an expert examining a new work by a favorite artist but finding it lacking.
This can’t be it. It just can’t. “Peter, I know things seem confusing right now, and you probably don’t know what to believe. Just take some time. Step back and think. You know me.”
“See, that’s the thing, Ana. I don’t know you.” He put both his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders. “I thought I did.”
I shook my head. Will the truth really come out one day? Or is this really it? I glanced at Lorie looking all righteous standing by the truck.
“Please leave.” Peter took a step toward Lorie.
“Maybe you should try to be alone for one day in your life.” Can’t believe he feels it’s okay to sleep with Lorie. Sequence of events… “Time alone will get you thinking right.”
He looked at his shoes without uttering a word.
“Some ‘help’ she’s providing you with,” I whispered, nodding in Lorie’s direction. I wasn’t sure if she could hear us.
“Ana, I was alone from the day I found my wife in bed with her news editor, a friend from our time at Auburn, until five months later when the divorce was final.”
I am officially a horrible person. I felt small and lifeless, like a sequin that didn’t shine. So that’s why he’d always been so vague about the divorce. I’d never pressured him for details—half of all marriages end up in divorce anyway—but I wish I’d known. “You never told me…” I said, trailing off when he lifted his hand to stop me.
“And then you asked me out, and I was so happy. I thought what had happened with Catherine had been just bad luck.” His face reddened. “And then it happened again.” He struggled for control as the words came out through his clenched teeth.
I thought of the pain he must have felt when he saw me with Claus, and the guilt slammed down hard.
“I don’t tell anyone. I’m embarrassed by it.” He looked down and seemed calmer. “Enough people know about it already.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?”
“Well, maybe I am personally insufficient, somehow. She cheated … and now you. There is a pattern here. It’s got to be me. Right?”
“Oh, Peter, you can’t be serious.”
“Mercy. Stop!” He grabbed his hair with both hands and grunted. “What do I have to do for you to just leave?”
The silence was absolute.
My eyes scanned Peter’s perfect property—no longer mine in any way. My hands trembled as I removed his house key from my key chain. “Here.”
He took the key. “Thanks.” On his face the same agony I’d seen in the morning at the church when he’d asked for his mom’s ring. He pressed a fist against unsteady lips.
The lake curled under the cool winter wind. Oh, how I loved that lake. Could it be that I was looking at it for the very last time? Warm tears rolled down my chilled face.
The flowerbeds were being prepared for the upcoming spring. The greenhouse hid Peter’s gorgeous ideas and creations. But this year I wouldn’t be part of any of it. Spring was going to happen without me.
I looked at the area where we were planning on building a backyard oasis with a swing and a fireplace, and a whimper escaped from my achy throat against my will.
Peter’s hand touched mine. He pressed his copy of my apartment key into the palm of my hand. He spoke in the softest and kindest voice I’d heard all day, “I love you, but you must go—you must go now. I need this day to end. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded with my eyes closed and my cheeks drenched. I love you, but…
As I walked to the car, Peter’s black lab, Jäger, dashed toward me from the woods—probably hoping for a ride with the top down.
He was my only ally, and I dried my tears to pat him. “Maybe another day, boy.” His soft ears warmed my cold hands. “I will love you always.”
I got in the T-Bird and backed out, looking at Peter one more time before turning away from the house and onto the wooded path. It’s over and it’s all my fault. My pain and Peter’s. I caused it to happen. If only I had stayed away from Claus…
In my broken heart, a soft melody called me to a better place. In my mind, the piano played and Brian taught: preparation, one, two, three, four—tails in, chin out, port de bras. Delicate and strong. Breathe.
Breathe.