Chapter 21
“How’s my grandbaby doing?” Dinah Kirkland asked her daughter late Tuesday afternoon. “Is he feeling better?”
“Yes,” Prissy answered, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she quickly scrawled her signature across the bottom of the form her secretary had brought to her. She handed the signed document back to Gayle, who pointed at her watch.
Prissy held up a hand and mouthed, Five more minutes.
Gayle nodded and strode briskly from the office.
“Prissy?” Dinah prompted. “Are you there?”
“Sorry, Mama. Today’s the bond election, so things have been really hectic around here, and I need to head back to the polling station soon.” She exhaled a deep, weary breath. “Yes, Maddox is feeling much better. He stayed home from school yesterday with Stan, who took him to the pediatrician. Apparently there’s been some sort of stomach virus going around. But Maddox’s fever is gone and he’s not experiencing any more nausea or diarrhea, so I think we’re out of the woods.”
“Oh, that’s good. You know how I worry about my babies.”
“I know, Mama.”
Prissy knew what was coming next, so she could only shake her head to herself when her mother sighed and lamented, “If you hadn’t moved all the way across the country, I could have helped you take care of Maddox while he was sick.”
“I know, Mama,” Prissy murmured.
“Doesn’t make any sense for you to be out there with no family,” Dinah fussed. “And it’s not right that your brother and I only get to see the boys a few times a year. It’s not fair to them, either.”
Prissy sighed, striving for patience. “Mama, this really isn’t a good—”
“I know, I know. Believe it or not, I didn’t call to lecture you. I wanted to see how you’re doing, and I also wanted to tell you how happy I was to hear about Stan receiving the Firefighter of the Year award. How wonderful!”
“Yes,” Prissy murmured. “It is wonderful. I’m very proud of him.”
“I can’t believe neither of you told me! I only found out when I called the house yesterday to check up on Maddox, and all he could talk about was the award his daddy had just won. Stan hadn’t mentioned a word when we were on the phone.”
“You know how modest he’s always been,” Prissy reminded her.
“I know.” There was a smile in Dinah’s voice. “Remember how proud we all were five years ago when he and his unit received the Medal of Valor for rescuing those families from that burning high-rise? I thought you and Mama Wolf would never stop weeping at the ceremony.”
A quiet, reminiscent smile curved Prissy’s mouth. “I remember.”
“Of course you do. It was one of the proudest moments of your life.” Dinah’s voice softened. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t succeed in talking him out of becoming a firefighter?”
Prissy’s smile faded. “I never tried to do that.”
“Oh, but you wanted to,” her mother countered mildly. “I’ll never forget the day you showed up at Theo’s house and told us that Stan wanted to become a firefighter. You were practically in tears, even though he’d already told you in high school that he wanted to fight fires for a living. When he landed that good-paying construction job after graduation, you just assumed that he’d forgotten about joining the fire department. But you knew, deep down inside, that he was meant to be a firefighter. And that scared you to death.”
Prissy said nothing. She couldn’t deny the truth of her mother’s words.
Dinah continued, “You tried to convince me and Theo that you were only concerned because Stan wouldn’t make as much money as a firefighter as he would doing construction, and that was a problem because you both wanted a big family. But your brother and I knew what was really bothering you. You were terrified that something would happen to him.”
Prissy swallowed with difficulty. She remembered the fear that had gripped her every time Stan left home for work, leaving her to wonder whether she’d seen him for the last time. She remembered the many nights she’d spent tossing and turning in bed, or pacing up and down the floors until dawn. She remembered the panic attacks she’d suffered every time she’d turned on the television and heard about a fire raging somewhere nearby. And she remembered the overwhelming relief that had flooded her when he would finally walk through the front door—slightly battered and exhausted, but safe and sound.
Since Saturday night, she’d found herself reliving those dark days when she’d been tormented by fears of losing Stan. It had taken years for her to conquer her demons and make peace with his dangerous occupation.
Now, after all this time, it shook her to realize that she might lose him after all.
Not to a deadly inferno, but to a woman.
Prissy leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, haunted by the image of Stan holding that beautiful woman in his arms at the ball. To the casual observer, he may have appeared bored or detached as he and Dr. Gilliard danced together. But Prissy had detected what others had likely missed.
Stan had been angry. Seethingly angry.
And the way he’d kept staring at Prissy had reminded her of a man who was desperate to keep his two worlds—one inhabited by his wife, the other by his mistress—from colliding.
Even as she’d told herself not to jump to conclusions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on between her husband and Dr. Gilliard. Something that would tilt her world on its axis, never to be righted again.
Which was why she’d panicked when Stan had tried to talk to her that night. She’d looked into his somber eyes and imagined him uttering the words she most dreaded to hear.
I’ve met someone else, and I’m leaving you.
She’d imagined him relaying the sordid details of his affair, causing her to burst into tears and scream hysterically at him. She’d imagined kicking him out of the house, sending him straight into the arms of his mistress. Worst of all, she’d imagined having to break the devastating news to their children—with Thanksgiving right around the corner—that she and their father were splitting up, just as their aunt and uncle had done.
Was it any wonder she hadn’t been ready to hear what Stan had to say?
“Prissy?”
Pulled out of her painful reverie, Prissy opened her eyes and tiredly rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, Mama. What were you saying?”
“Well, I was just telling you that I’m glad you’ve learned that history doesn’t have to repeat itself. Just because your father died on the job doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to Stan.”
“I know.” Prissy swiveled toward the window, gazing out at the scenic view of the Rocky Mountains as she relived the fun, romantic day that she and Stan had eaten lunch at the Black Kettle and gone bowling together. A lifetime ago, it seemed.
She sighed. “Can I ask you a question, Mama?”
“Of course, dear.”
Prissy hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “If you’d been given a choice, would you have wanted to know that Daddy was going to die?”
Her mother was silent for so long that Prissy wondered whether they’d gotten disconnected. She was about to say something when Dinah finally spoke, low and haltingly. “I never told you or your brother this…”
As her voice trailed off, Prissy instinctively tensed. “Told us what?”
“There was a woman…She attended our church, but you were probably too young to remember her. She was beautiful and, well, I thought your father might be attracted to her. He’d never given me any reason to suspect that he would be unfaithful, but there was something about this woman that I just didn’t trust. Your father was one of the church deacons, and whenever this woman needed help carrying something heavy to her car or repairing things around her house, she always sought out your father. As the months went by, I became more and more convinced that something was going on between them. So one morning I confronted your father, just asked him outright if he was having an affair with that woman. He adamantly denied it, but I didn’t believe him. We got into a terrible argument before he stormed off to go to work.” She paused for a long moment. “The next time I saw him was when I had to identify his body at the morgue.”
Stricken, Prissy gasped.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, her heart constricting with compassion. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”
“Because I was ashamed,” Dinah admitted, her voice heavy with sorrow and regret. “And I didn’t want to plant any seeds of doubt in your mind concerning your father. After his funeral, the woman came to see me. She admitted to me that she’d been enamored of your father for a long time, but she knew he would never return her feelings because he loved me and was committed to our family. Before she left, she handed me a small photograph that your father had given to her shortly after she’d confessed her feelings to him. It was an old photo of me. He’d told her that every time she thought of him, or was tempted to hope that they could ever be together, looking at my picture would help bring her back to reality.”
“Oh, Daddy.” Prissy swallowed hard, her throat tightening with raw emotion. “That’s why you never fully recovered from losing him, isn’t it, Mama? You blamed yourself because your last words to him were angry, hurtful accusations.”
“That’s right,” Dinah said mournfully. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret arguing with your father that morning. So when you ask me whether I would have wanted to know that he was going to die, my answer is yes, but only because I would have done things differently had I known that our days together were numbered. I wouldn’t have wasted so much time being consumed with jealousy and suspicion. I wouldn’t have assumed that his occasional silences and mood swings meant he was cheating on me. If I’d had the gift of foresight, baby, I would have spent every waking minute showing your father how much I loved and appreciated him, and how happy and grateful I was to be sharing my life with him.”
Prissy gazed out the window, her vision blurred by hot tears. “But what if he really had been cheating, Mama? How would you have known unless you came right out and asked him?”
“I suppose I wouldn’t have known,” her mother conceded. “Short of catching him in the act, how does any woman ever know for sure that her man has been unfaithful? If you ask him and he lies, what then?”
“You at least have to ask,” Prissy insisted, swiping at her watery eyes. “The alternative is to bury your head in the sand because you’re too much of a coward to face the possible truth.”
Dinah was silent, no doubt sensing that they were no longer talking about her and her late husband.
After several moments, she said with quiet gravity, “I suppose my advice to any woman would be to make damn certain you know what you’re talking about before you accuse a man of infidelity. And you’d better know in your heart of hearts that you’re ready to deal with whatever the outcome may be. Because as I learned the hard way, you can’t unring a bell once it has been rung.”