Broken Promise: A Thriller

Then Arlene went to the top of the stairs that led down to the basement. “Don? You there?”

 

 

When she didn’t get a reply, she figured there was only one place left to check. She went out the back door and limped across the yard to their garage. The main door was closed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. She tried the side entrance, found it unlocked, and entered.

 

And there was Don. Standing in front of his workbench, clutching a bottle of beer. There were two empties standing in front of him.

 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said.

 

“I was right here,” he said.

 

“Well, I had to look in all the other places first before I found that out, didn’t I? Me with a bad leg and all.”

 

“You should have looked here first.”

 

“What are you doing drinking beer in the middle of the afternoon?” she asked. “In the middle of the summer, maybe, but now?”

 

“Is that why you were looking for me? To find out if I was having a beer?”

 

“I didn’t know you were having a beer until I found you.”

 

“Then what the hell do you want?”

 

She did not answer him. She crossed her arms and looked sternly at him. “What’s going on with you?”

 

He grunted. “There’s nothing going on with me.”

 

“How many years have I been married to you? Whatever the number is, double it, and that’s what it feels like,” Arlene said. “I can tell when something’s eating at you. You started acting funny yesterday.”

 

“I told you, I’m fine. What did you want?”

 

“I wanted to ask you . . .” She stopped herself. “Damn it.”

 

“What?”

 

“What the hell did I want to ask you?” She shook her head. “This is driving me crazy.”

 

“Where were you when you decided you just had to find me?” Don asked. “They say if you think where you were when—”

 

“Rice or potatoes?” she asked him.

 

“What?”

 

“With pork chops. Rice or potatoes, or sweet potatoes? Oh, and I’ve got a box of that Stove Top stuffing that Ethan likes.”

 

“I don’t care,” Don said. “Make whatever you want.”

 

She put a hand on his arm. “Talk to me.”

 

He pressed his lips together, as though keeping the words he wanted to say from escaping. He shook his head.

 

“Is it David? And Ethan? Is it getting you down, having them here? He just needs time to get his life back together. It would have been better if he’d just stayed in Boston, hadn’t quit that job at—”

 

“It’s not that,” Don said. “I . . . I like having them around. I like having my grandson here.”

 

The corner of her mouth went up. “Me, too.” She paused, then said, “You’d better spill what it is that’s on your mind fast, because I need to head upstairs and lie down with some ice on this goddamn leg. Talk.”

 

Don opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. The fourth time he tried, words came out.

 

“I have regrets,” he said.

 

Arlene nodded. “Sure. We all do.” She hesitated. “I hope I’m not one of them.”

 

He shook his head, put a hand on her shoulder. “No.”

 

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she said.

 

“There are times when I could have been a better man.”

 

“Better for whom?” she asked.

 

“Just . . . better.”

 

Arlene had always thought, even with all his faults—and there was no question Don had a few—he was as good a man as any woman could hope to find. It was difficult for her to imagine that this was a man who harbored deep secrets, that there could be anything he’d done that would make her think less of him.

 

She’d never had any reason to believe he’d been unfaithful to her, even though there would be the occasional fleeting thought. But that had more to do with her own insecurities than with suspicions about Don’s behavior.

 

“There’s times,” he said, “when you wish you acted differently, but you can’t go back and do things again. The moment is gone; there’s nothing you can do. And the thing is, even if you tried to do the right thing, there’s no guarantee you might have been able to make a difference. But it haunts you just the same. You feel like less of a person.”

 

“Okay,” Arlene said slowly.

 

“Like, for instance,” he said, “you remember that time you were backing into that spot at the Walmart, and you—”

 

“Oh, please don’t bring that up.”

 

“You dinged that car, and you got out and had a look, and it was a little dent, and you thought about leaving a note, but finally you decided to get back in the car and drive off and go shop somewhere else instead that day?”

 

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