Sometimes, when Libby thought of Ryan, she had that same, disembodied, numb feeling she’d had the afternoon she’d taken a golf club to his truck. Sometimes, she feared that she was sinking into anger again, losing her objectivity.
The sound of her phone ringing startled her. She hurried back into the kitchen where she’d left it, vaulting over a dog, and grabbed it up from the counter. She smiled when she saw the display and answered it. “Hi, Alice. What are you doing?” she asked, and with the phone to her ear, began to tidy up while Alice talked about dance class.
FIVE
A couple of sun-drenched days later, Libby drove into Pine River. Thankfully, she’d been very busy since the day she’d stopped at the soccer fields and hadn’t had time to dwell on it. She’d mowed the lawn at the ranch with an ancient mower. She’d painted the gazebo, a much bigger job than she’d realized. But that had kept her mind on tasks that had to be done for the civil union ceremony of Austin and Gary, and today, she had things to do and people to see, not to mention lunch with her mother.
She had every intention of driving past the back entrance road into the subdivision where Ryan and Gwen lived. Every intention. But as she neared that road, she couldn’t stop herself from turning in, from driving by Ryan’s house. She never knew what she was looking for—some signal that there was trouble in paradise? That it wasn’t perfect? Or was she looking for signs of perfection, of a happy family that didn’t include her? Why did she even do that to herself?
That was a problem of late—she could never seem to stop herself from doing it.
Libby turned in and cruised around the winding streets up the hill to where the Spangler house sat, a sentry over the other, similar-looking Craftsman houses. When Libby lived here, she’d thought the house looked cozy and homey, but today, it didn’t look so special. It was in need of paint, which Libby had mentioned to Ryan more than once. Max’s Razor scooter was in the yard, just asking to be stolen. There was a bench beside the front door, shoes in various sizes piled next to it.
Sloppy.
The house had a big backyard that was perfect for the dog she’d let the kids get. It had a front porch and a bed of roses just below the porch railing. Two chimneys, one in the living room and one in the playroom, faced each other from either end of the house.
Libby had once loved this house.
She hated it now. It almost sickened her to look at it, the place where she’d once belonged, where she’d once put all her hope for a bright future with a big family. It was like looking at the worst car wreck—she couldn’t turn away.
She rolled to a stop across the street from the house. Gwen’s Subaru was in the drive, next to Ryan’s truck. What was he doing home from work at ten in the morning? Sex? A shudder of revulsion ran down her spine. Ryan was always so horny in the morning. Gwen had probably strutted around in some shorty shorts and a cute, tight T-shirt with a funny saying, knowing that Ryan would pull her back into bed.
He used to do that to Libby. There was a time he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, when he would tell her she was beautiful and he loved her. When had he stopped doing that?
She stared at the house.
She wouldn’t be here now if he hadn’t talked to her in the parking lot of Safeway. Libby debated going up to the door. But that would be truly crazy of her.
Or would it?
Maybe Ryan meant what he’d said, that he’d made a mistake. Maybe he wished he could take it all back. Maybe he needed an opportunity to grovel as he asked her to forgive him, which, of course, Libby would not do. At least she didn’t think she would.
Better still, maybe Alice would come to the door.
Before she could decide, however, the garage door began to slide up. “Shit,” she whispered, and tried to start her car, but as usual, the junker wouldn’t turn over on the first attempt. As Ryan walked out onto the drive, she got it to catch and hit the gas. The damn thing puttered and spit before picking up enough speed for her to pull away from the curb. She sped down the quiet residential street with her heart pounding, ignoring the old woman walking her dog who shouted at her to slow down.
She turned recklessly onto the main road and headed into Pine River. She relaxed a little, but then happened to look in her rearview mirror. Ryan’s truck had just turned onto the road and he was barreling after her.
With a squeal, Libby careened into the parking lot of a convenience store. She slid down in the seat as far as she could go hoping that Ryan would drive by. But the sound of his truck rumbled in behind her, and she winced. She grabbed her wallet, her mind whirling around what she’d say, how she’d explain sitting out front of his house.