That was it. Everyone in the town knew she wasthe mystery woman; that she was Liza. Elizabeth closed her eyes andtried to stop the pounding in her head. Saturday night. The party.Jack. Standing too close. Going off, talking in a dark, secludedspot. His hands on her waist. The palpable tension between the twoof them. Him taking her home. Someone dropping a glass as she toldhim to call her Liza. Oh God, this was what all the talking and thedirty looks were about. This was why she had not heard back fromJulia. This was why Nicole Bovee ignored her in the supermarket,and why Carrie pulled Caroline from the program.
Oh God! What was she going to do? Who was shegoing to call? Should she call Peter? How do you explain this toyour husband? Should she call Nancy and try to talk to her? Shouldshe call Julia? Oh wait, Julia wasn't speaking to her. No one was.She felt friendless, and all alone, adrift as the seas got choppierand choppier. The last time she felt this hopeless anddespondent—well that had led her to Jack. Jack. That bastard. Whatwas with the name thing anyway? Why didn't he tell her that hewrote under a pseudonym? Why did Nancy refer to him by J.P. insteadof Jack anyway? How was Elizabeth so blind as not to see theconnection? Nancy's son was John.
Elizabeth went into Teddy's room and got outthe year book. John was a year older than Teddy, so he was justcompleting the fourth grade. Elizabeth flipped to that section.There he was, John P. Davis, III. Of course. Jack Davis. It was acommon enough surname that Elizabeth never even thought of theconnection. She smacked herself in the head. And again. And again.Inflicting physical pain slightly lessened the emotional pain thatwas ripping her apart inside.
She had to get out of here. She was afraid thatif she did not do something soon, she would hurt herself. And thistime, she was so shamed already that she did not think she hadenough wherewithal to stop herself. She called Agnes.
"Mom, I need your help." Elizabeth tried tokeep the desperation from her voice.
"Oh, so now you need me?" Agnes saidacerbically.
"Mom," Elizabeth pleaded. "I really need yourhelp. Please."
"Oh my God, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Are youin trouble?"
"No, yes, I don't know."
"What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to get over here for when the kidsget off the bus. I need to leave, right now. They'll be home about1:45."
"Okay. I can take them over to my house andthey can go swimming."
"That sounds great," Elizabeth saidflatly.
"Now, what's going on?"
"I, um," she faltered. "I can't talk about it,not just yet."
"Are you in trouble?"
"Yes, I think I am," Elizabeth admitted meekly."But I can't really even figure out what's going on from here. Ineed to step back, and I need some help. I'm driving to Susan's totalk to her. I might not be back tonight."
"Does Peter know?"
"No, not yet. I need to figure out what's goingon before I can talk to him about it."
"Okay. I guess I can call in tomorrow and keepthe kids overnight, if you don't think you can make it back. Becareful driving up to Susan's."
"I will, Mom." Elizabeth said a silent prayerthat Agnes was a fierce Tiger-mom, still after all these years, andwould step up to help Elizabeth.
"Don't 'I will' me. I mean be very careful. Youremember what happened last time you drove up there. All that cartrouble, and then you had to stay with Susan for two days whilesomeone came out to fix it. I don't want you to have that kind oftrouble again."
God, if Agnes only knew.
Elizabeth didn't know how she made the drive.She had to shut her mind down and literally focus on the road. Shefollowed her GPS, marveling at how different the scenery lookedcompared to the last time she had made this trek. Barren desolatebranches were replaced by lush foliage, bursting with green andlife. She noticed with bitter irony that Mother Nature seemed to bemocking her. She was like the trees. The last time she had madethis drive, she appeared dead and detached, bare and barren. Now,her life seemed full and vibrant, full of color and texture. Herlife, like the branches of the trees, had reached out andintermingled with others, rather than standing apart and alone. Itwas this proximity which was now isolating her.
Elizabeth tried not to look out of herperiphery as she passed Jack's house. The house seemed innocuousenough in the daylight. It did not seem like a house that couldhave created such hurt and betrayal. Perhaps the house was not toblame, just the inhabitant. Finally, she reached Susan's house.Elizabeth had not even called her to tell her she was coming. Sheknew that she couldn't speak about it without falling apart. Shetried to compose herself, exited her car and knocked on thedoor.
There was no answer. Of course.
Elizabeth sat down on the front stoop,defeated. She folded in half, resting her head on her knees, againwishing that her virtual fetal position would protect her from theassaults of the outside world. She sat like that and sherocked.
Time passed, but it had no meaning forElizabeth. In her mind, she was replaying the events of that night.The one that had brought her back into Jack's sights. She had neverpegged him as mean or vindictive, but obviously she was not a goodjudge of character. After all, she had married Peter. Peter. OhGod, what was she going to tell Peter? Her thoughts raced 'roundand 'round, whirling in a vortex of panic and despair, when she wasstartled by a voice.
"Elizabeth? What are you doinghere?"
Elizabeth looked up at her kind friend's facewith scarlet-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face. She couldn't sayanything.
"Oh my God! Are you okay?" Susan wasstartled.
Elizabeth just shook her head.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" Susan beganscanning Elizabeth, looking for signs of injury.
Finally Elizabeth croaked, "Can I comein?"
"Oh God, of course!" Susan maneuvered aroundElizabeth, pausing to help pull her to a standing position. Sheinserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. "C'monin."
"What's going on?"
Elizabeth walked
